Our battle with the wight and his undead servants spanned the great open hall of the mausoleum. The decrepit, rotting bodies of his servants were much tougher than they looked. Goodman once again channeled the cleansing light of the Morning Lord and several of the undead monsters were put to rest. We put down all but the wight himself. With his fighting force destroyed, and several of his own wounds that would need tending, he yielded.
The wight told us that he had taken the head of the horseman to try and use as part of a ritual to raise and control the monster that the horseman had originally been called to fight. The ritual didn’t work as intended; the beast was raised, but not controlled. It now had the head in its lair and would attack any who approached it.
When we asked the creature about the horseman’s heart, his answers about what happened to it seemed to lend credence to our suspicions of the mayor and the true chain of events that led to the horseman’s death.
We made a deal with the wight, and said that if it led us to the location of the horseman’s head, and promised to leave this land forever, we would spare its life. The wight agreed and we set out for the monster’s lair, deep in the woods. The cemetery’s groundskeeper gave us a thankful nod as we led the wight out of the cemetery.
The wight took us deep into the woods and pointed out the area that the monster guards. All we would need to do is approach and the beast would spring out to attack us. As we agreed, we let the wight leave. We then pressed onward towards the lair of the creature. We would get the horseman’s head or die trying.
Letting this wight walk away doesn’t leave me feeling very good. It will only inevitably torment the people of some other far off land, but they gypsy fortune teller warned of the danger of letting my rage and hate control me. Slaying a defenseless being, even if it is an undead monster, could have lasting repercussions for my soul. I need to remember that.