It took the better two days for things to settle down for the town and for repairs to begin. There was pain within the village. Each person, each family, lost someone close to them. Each community member was a rock upon which the town's foundation was built; with those parts gone and those cornerstones were forever lost.

The village laid their dead to rest in the town's graveyard, and the major said a few words to rally the village folk, but most people still felt numb about them. The goblins destroyed several homes, but the few remaining became places of settlement for the people to gather and help one another. Even though they felt this emptiness with the loss, the town still stood together. No one was going to be left out in the cold. No one would go hungry. Calvary was a city that stood for centuries because of its morality and the community of its people. The people believed that they were more than just individuals; they were all parts of a greater whole. The town rallied together, sharing everything from food to blankets, and they were determined not to lose another soul.

This drive for togetherness is what caused the creation of the plan. It was simple at first. It began the night they put all the villagers to rest. A large group of survivors gathered in the pub, repairs had already started, and it was still a mess, but it was the heart of the town. Town Hall was the nerve centre of the village. Town Hall, where logical thoughts ruled, discussions took place. The village elders created the few rules that ran the town, and the community problems were solved, but it was not the town's soul. The pub was the place of song, stories, and time shared. It did not hurt that The Storyteller always had good drinks, besides the odd tale to take your mind off your problems.

The plan came about when someone began to grumble, "It isn't right," and another took up the question, "Why did this happen." It started to snowball; one grumble led to another until people began to argue.

Until it finally happened, one patron yelled, "We should march into those woods and kill every last monster we find."

Finally, the words created a spark among the survivors.

Jeremy took centre stage, "Everyone," he yelled, followed by a sharp whistle he would use in the woods to signal danger. The grumbling stopped, and they faced the young town hero. The crowd fell silent. "Look, I know you are all upset, and I am too. We lost a lot of good people, and some weirdness has sprung upon us. I, for one, want to know why. I cannot sit here and pretend nothing happened."

"Look, boy, I am not going to risk my life anymore," One customer shouted.

"You might have shown yourself at the gate, boy, but that is just it. You are a boy," a woman called out. "Let the grownups deal with this."

"You do not have to risk your lives, and I have shown more character in my short years than most of you here," Jeremy glared at the villagers who questioned him. "I have a plan!" Taking a deep breath and starting to count to ten, "It is a good one."

"What, are you going to walk up the mountain all by yourself? What can one ranger do, even if he is as skilled at the bow as you are," Greg, one of the men that was gathering corpses, asked and showed kindness to Jeremy as he did now? The young ranger could feel the concern for his safety in the tone and statement.

"No, I was going to ask for help," Jeremy smiled. With that, the crowd went still. It felt like everyone took a collective breath and was holding it. No one moved. No one dare breathe unless they are called upon to risk their lives. It was one thing to work crops together, to share a home, another to fight to save your life, but to risk your very soul to travel up that mountain was unthinkable for most.

"Now, don't all volunteer at once," this would not stop Jeremy. "My plan is simple because we do not know enough. I know you are all afraid! I am, too but ignoring the problem led to our homes being burned to the ground. The elders, hell, we need more information to act and plan; we don't know what we don't know. I know I am young. I know. I do not fit in with the normal running of the town, but this is my home, and I love it here. I, for one, will not let this attack go unsolved. I need to know why someone would murder Jaclyn or Jacob. We must prepare, and to do so, we need more information. You would be wrong if you think we are all safe now." The pub was still. Each member of the community reflected on how they had treated Jeremy's family, and now he stands wanting to defend them again.

"My boy has a point," Ulrok walks in from the kitchen, holding one of the largest ales the pub has ever seen within its walls. "I do not want to sit around here, waiting to die. I will take my shield with you, boy. Always have, always will. What is your plan? "Jeremy pauses. He wanted more information; that was his plan. Lucky someone else spoke up, taking some pressure off the young warrior.

"We need to talk about the path," Drovic stated as he rested his feet on the table and took a drink of red wine. "We need to take the old trail, travel it up into the mountain and find out what is going on up there. That was your plan, right." Pausing, taking another drink, as the townsfolk watched him, right ranger," giving Jeremy a little wink.

Jeremy nods. "We all can't go. What if it is a trap," townsfolk chimed in. Jeremy might have thought it was the miller but couldn't place the voice.

"Agreed, a small group is best. We can move light and fast. Be back in a few weeks with information," Drovic stated. "We will either find out two things. It is either a trap that we will spring and then report back. The other option, we will all be dead, and you will know it is a trap."

"Sounds like you are joining the group," Ulrok pointed out.

"That I am. However, we will need a few more volunteers." Ulrok slammed the ale down on the bar, "in the meantime, we should also send word to the lords and get some of those paladins or knights up this way as the town builds a few more defences."

Drovic smiled and had finished his wine now, "Just like a dwarf, always thinking the pragmatic way about the world, but I agree, build away and get support. All very logical."

Rebecca stood up, "I am going." The townsfolk were not shocked by her statement; she always dreamed big. "Not for help, but up the path."

"No, you are not, "the Storyteller said firmly.

"There is no way you can stop me. I am going one way or another. The best you can hope for is to support me," Rebecca smiled.

"Very well, I will travel too."

A lady dressed in red asked no one specifically, "Is no one else going to bring up the walking dead?" No one paid her any mind, she shrugged it off, but Jeremy did.

Ulrok leans over and whispers, "they are generally referred to as the waking dead because a spell caster had awoken them from their eternal slumber." With that, he nudged Jeremy with his elbow.

"Why don't we just call them Zombies," Jeremy smirked?

Kalven spoke slowly but deeply, "Because it is about respecting the dead in which we will thankfully all join one day." The group could feel the sadness roll off the man in waves.

"Right, so waking dead it is, but is there a short form," Drovic asked respectfully, which caught the group off guard.

"We could just call them the waking?"

"I like that Ulrok, alright! The Waking sounds good to me." Jeremy ended his point with a thumbs up to the group.

"Looks like we have our group and our plan." The town began to cheer and sing. They finally had hope from an improbable band of travellers. As the hours passed and bought drinks for the would-be saviours, people began to file out of the pub. As the hours neared midnight, all that remained in the tavern was the would-be band of heroes. They all joined each other at the centre table.

"So, what is the real plan," Rebecca coded glared at Drovic.

"Fast this one is," Drovic smiled at her, "I do not do much for free, but they almost killed me a few times, and I would like to know what they are after. Plus, they might be after what I am after. Safer in a group than not, do not you agree with me, my dear."

"Watch those lips of yours, Drovic, or I might Drovic my boot into them." Rebecca gave a little giggle to her joke and smiled at Jeremy.

Drovic cleared his throat and began. "That was the real plan earlier. We lack any real information; unless you know something, I do not. Let me spell this out to you, girl." All flirting was gone from his voice. "We do not know who created the giant boar monster; believe me, that thing did not come from nature. Someone or something with major magic pulled that creature into this world."

"What kind of magic could make a monster like that, Mr. Drovic," Jeremy asked as politely as he could.

Before Drovic could respond, Ulrok cut him off, "He ain't no, Mr., but if I had to guess, it was some kind of necromancy or transfiguration or the combination."

Drovic continued, "We also do not know why the orcs and goblins left their holes up in the mountains and marched into the village. After fighting their leader, I can say something hints at a Legend of Iron or great evil in the mountains. We are missing out on two key facts. Who is our enemy, and what do they truly want? To find that, we need to go where they are and dig deep. They are in those hills, and I want to find out while." Ending his point, he stabs his dagger into the table, followed by blowing Rebecca a kiss. Even if she would not want to say it, Rebecca agreed with Drovic on this point.

"It pains me to agree with our colourful friend here, but I agree, "Ulrok stated as he crossed his arms.

"You may be stressed, dear, sir, but if you speak to Rebecca that way again, I will burn you where you sit," With a flick of his wrist, a small flame left the Storyteller's fingertips. Drovic laughed, and Jeremy was always in awe of the older man's magic.

"Nice spark Gramps, very well. But it still stands; we need information." Drovic smiled, thinking that the fools were playing right into his plan. He needed to head into those mountains but had no desire to go alone. Jeremy sat still for a moment, watching his idea unfold before him and praying they would all make it back alive. He could not forget that strange feeling of a hiss creeping his back at this moment.

"We have all the information we need in the stories."

"Fool, this is a new threat using old power," Drovic explained.

"Drovic is right, Storyteller; this is an old power reborn from new hate," Ulrok nodded, still crossing his arms and thinking inwardly. "It must be some dark power being reborn or such to create that ugly pig of a monster." That was when they heard the front door open. Still covered in red, causing his leathers to change colours, he walks into Kalven. He walks towards the table slowly, facing the ground. Slowly he moved but with direction. The rest of the group watched as he sat beside the Storyteller.

"I am going to join you." No one argued the point, just nodded as one. The path was before them, and they made a plan. They finished the night but just enjoyed each other's company and one more drink. One by one, they climb the half-broken stairs to their respective rooms. Things were not so sleepy from the shadows, and a watchful eye smiled at himself as his plans came to fruition.

The morning was slow but productive. No one outwardly showed any excitement about leaving the village to travel into the heart of the enemy territory, into the unknown, but they were not going to back down. Rebecca was cooking up what was left of the perishable goods for breakfast and packing a week's worth of preserved foods. Drovic sat at the bar watching her, drinking his warm wine because his gear was packed. Drovic let the others do the heavy lifting. Rebecca did not mind the quiet company; for once, Drovic kept his tongue still. She thought it was strangely still and welcoming, almost like a natural home.

Ulrok was packing the two mules with all the gear they would need for the mountains: cold-weather gear, tents, tarps, and a small amount of ale. Whatever you could think of, he was packing it, just in case. Town Folks were coming by offering supplies and help in whatever they could spare. The two John's brothers rolled two twin barrels of ale up to Ulrok because they thought he could use it. The town rallied behind the band of adventures; finally, they were doing something about the darkness that had haunted their dreams for generations. The beast was finally going to be challenged, as Jeremy would explain. Ulroks's pride began to grow. Finally, he was not just wasting his time; he was part of a community again. His path was moving forward again.

Kalvan was sitting behind the Inn with a small fire brewing up a few mixtures that would come in handy. He spent the night awake and walking around the town, gathering a few needed chemicals and plants. Not knowing if he was asleep or awake, he did his business. Jeremy felt for the man, watching him as if the man had lost his heart. Jeremy felt that Kalven's personality was shattered beyond repair, but maybe giving him purpose might remake a small part of the broken man. When Jeremy lost his family, taking the call of a ranger helped provide him with intent. Kalven even forgot why he had come to this northern village; all that drove him forward was this longing to find out who. He sat, cooked his formulas, and watched the mountain.

Jeremy was using the large pub tables to look over his gear. It must have been the third or fourth time that he was finally content with what he had. He carefully checked everything. The straps on his bag were in good shape and the sharpness of his blades. He had crafting tools to fix anything wrong with his bow or arrows. He could always create what he needed from the woods, but he would need the right supplies to make perfect weapons. With great care, Jeremy packed his emergency supplies into the right side of his travelling kit. Taking a deep breath, he sat at the table and started packing his bag. Jeremy would finally take revenge for everyone: his parents, Jaclyn, and everyone he loved. Jeremy believed he was going to destroy the feelings of loss he had felt for all these years, but he was not going to do it alone.

Finally, it was the older man. Rebecca and Drovic had finished the meal prep and packed it on the mules, and gave everyone an emergency two days' worth of salted meat to carry on their persons, just in case. Ulrok and Jeremy were waiting with the mules, keeping calm and happy. Kalvan had finished up, put the fire out and watched the others silently, and if you looked closely under his travelling cloak, attached to each of the leather straps he wore were dozens of potions. The Storyteller locked up his home, rolled up his robes and, with a sad smile, said goodbye to his house. They did not know if any of them would make it back. They began the walk towards the mountain. The Storyteller thought it was a simple plan created by a young man with a big heart, but nothing ever worked out.

It was about mid-day when they reached the foot of the mountain, and they arrived at Jeremy's old home, nothing of the building but the skeleton of an old stone foundation. His family had lived here for three generations without any problems until one night; everything changed for the young man. Rebecca rested her hand on his back, showing him he was not alone.

He took a deep breath, "Come on, the trail up the mountain is back. There is not much left of it, nothing more than a game trail, so keep a close eye on one another. Do not let the mules get away or slip." Taking in the fresh air one more time, "Let…"

Drovic cut him off, "Before the emotions get too high, remember we could die at any moment." With that, he laughed and slapped Kalvan on the back, "Doesn't that make you feel alive!"

"Strangely, it does," Ulrok's deep laugh followed Drovic. The Storyteller thought Drovic knew the emotions were running dangerously close to panic and fear. He used humour and spite to break down the group's anxiety and lead the way. He would make a fantastic leader once he opened his heart more to the group. The Storyteller lets out a small laugh, and the world gets very strange.

Jeremy took point, leading the group away from any problems that might trip up the mules. Drovic was right behind Jeremy, keeping a watchful eye on anything that might be of importance. Rebecca and Ulrok were in the middle looking after the mules. Kalven followed in the group's rear and glided like a shadow over the path. Jeremy noticed that Kalven was not leaving any tracks and guessed that he must have some enchantment. The Storyteller moved throughout the group, pausing now and again to cast a genuine eye spell or provide a supportive statement. The group flowed along the path as if they had been travelling together for years. They were supporting one another's weaknesses.

"It will be dark in an hour, and I want to make camp around the corner. The area is settled enough to provide a safe retreat. Ulrok, please do not forget to feed and hobble the mules." Jeremy stated. He had camped at this ledge several times because he was one of the few people who dared to hunt this mountain range.

"Good plan, son. Lilly and Jessica will be happy to have the packs off." Ulrok smirked as he rubbed the mules behind the ears.

"Great, I get to travel with the one dwarf who loves pets," Rebecca giggled.

"Speaking of oddities," the Storyteller chimed, "What happened to that young woman? I heard whispers of The Waking?"

"She," Jeremy shrugged, "I have no idea. I thought she left after the goblins and kept going where she was headed." With that, the group left it be and focused on the task at hand. Jeremy did not want to explain to anyone his vision after his encounter with Jaclyn after the battle. The group began setting up the two tents and setting two watch fires. The Storyteller set up a few traps for any unwanted guests during the night. They set up a rotational guard as the others slept. Each pair takes a turn for two hours at a time. Jeremy was too excited to sleep and jumped at the chance for the first watch. As Drovic unstrapped his leather armour and slipped a few extra daggers into some inventive hiding places, he smiled. Plans were unfolding nicely.