It was unsettling to Hanzo, not getting rid of the dead like this, but doing so with essentially a reanimated skeleton. The monk and the living undead shared few words in the meantime, only when needing to coordinate their work. The strange blue faerie creature tried to strike up conversation a couple of times before ultimately deciding against it, considering the circumstances. Certainly, Hanzo had not seen anything quite so unique of life as this man and his companion.

It was something of a long and grueling process (made far more delicate by the many pieces some of the bodies were blasted into) to assemble all of the death outside of town, but they did it. In about an hour, Hanzo and Mortosh had a pile of cadavers (and most of the pieces they were broken into) at their feet, all of them soaked in the smell of dried blood and paling flesh. Mortosh had carried out a torch to light the pile, which he passed over to Hanzo for him to do the honors. Before they were to start the burning, however, Mortosh was insistent upon perform a ritual to allow the dead to properly leave the world. Hanzo had no quarrel with the idea, his clan performing similar deeds to their own fallen kind. 

Zam took out a tiny flute and began to play a slow song upon it, while Mortosh chanted out a parting prayer for the dead men. Hanzo mumbled a few words of his own, from what he vaguely recalled of his own ritual. He couldn't bring himself to think much about the dead bandits here, for each time, his mind drifted back to that gruesome, fateful battle years ago.

At Mortosh's go-ahead, Hanzo laid down the torch at the base of the pile, setting the cloth of one of the cadaver's legs alight. He stood back, and motioned for Mortosh and Zam to do the same. Soon the fire spread to the vulnerable flesh, fanning out to engulf the cadavers like a disease. [i]Cinder sickness[/i], he realized. This pile of burning dead could be those children if their cure didn't arrive in time. Whatever the adventurers were doing here, killing slavers to protect the populace, they very soon needed to start saving lives over ending them.

Eventually, the bonfire was in full force, billowing out deathly plumes of smoky, ashen remains. The smell of death and burning was overwhelming, standing in its awe like this, and Hanzo found himself a bit overwhelmed, it being all to similar to that day. Gods above, why couldn't he stop thinking about that!? Dwelling so much upon his history would do little to change it, and he couldn't secure the future if he kept himself in the past!

But this time just didn't feel good. The scene gave him a bad feeling in his abdomen, all while Hanzo fought to not let himself drift away to just pull from the scene and go rest at the inn. He turned and paced back onto the dirt road to fulfill the thought, but all too suddenly the feeling in his gut redoubled.

This wasn't normal. Something was quite wrong, and he knew it.

Slowly, cautiously, Hanzo looked around, his senses sharpening again. Whatever could set him off like that had to be something Hanzo had felt well before; if it was what he thought it might be, they were in trouble. He remained silent and focused he directed his attention to the south; there, as the dirt path lead out of town, the forest grew to obscure the view on either side, and then the road itself curved off sharply to one side.

A couple of slow steps further, and his senses intensified. Faint traces of a burning scent entered his nostrils, far different from the scorched corpses: sulfur. Joining it soon thereafter was the bestial growling and barking of dogs, not at all akin to the sounds of the forst surrounding this village. His eyes narrowed, almost zooming in...

The riders quickly rounded the bend soon after he heard them. Three men led the pack - one dressed in some vague regalia whom he presumed to be the leader, and two more gruff men aside him: a younger one with a scarred face, and an older with beaten-

[b][i]Oh no.[/i][/b] 

Hanzo snapped free, his expression turning to panic. "Run- back to the town! We have to warn them!" The monk cried out to Mortosh, backpedaling to start running back to the village. He hurriedly explained along the way, "The slavers are back, and they're armed. Get the others from the inn- I'll get the people inside!" As the two of them split up and dashed into town, Hanzo bellowed out in warning to the townspeople, warning them of another attack. He was hoping to get everyone inside before the slavers arrived, and pray that his meager half of the adventurers could hold them off...