2. Session, End Vignette

Crowds stand huddled holding their breath, the wooden platforms creaking under their weight, waiting for the signal. Through the various groups of people, a woman silently moves to look for her child. The smell of rotting death and the sound of raspy groans is in the air. Worried looks and furrowed brows paint the faces of the masses, though many seem indifferent. One man stands on an old wine-stained barrel, his sorrowful eyes flickering between that of Ismark Kolynovich and the church. A silence befalls them only broken by a wayward cough. It's as if time, if only for a moment, stands still. Then the heavy sound of a funeral bell rings out. Silence. Then again, the sound finds its way through the ruined streets, bringing with it a choir of death, as suddenly the undead lumbering shapes in the street begin to stir. A baby begins to cry and its mother smothers the sound with a cloth. Movement. The living dead begin to turn in the direction of the church, and their legs begin to move, carrying them towards the sound. They move, almost like water from an overflowing river, like one mass, mindlessly determined. The people anxiously await the signal each looking to Father Donavich, he inturn looks towards Ismark. 30 seconds go by. Ismark looks at the few undead still left in the street, their movement limited by their lack of legs. He nods at Donavich, who proceeds to launch his hand forward issuing the command "GO!".
  With a sudden lurch, everyone, big and small begins to move, sliding down the rooftops and climbing down ladders, some more successfully than others. Most reach the ground safely, but a few sickening thuds can be heard as panicked people reach the ground faster than intended. Those who can, run, those who can't, walk or limp on the cobbled ground. An older man can be seen sitting on a cart filled to the point of overspilling with what seems to be the contents of a whole general store, somewhat secured by ropes, the whole contraption being pulled by a daft looking but very strong young man. The crowd soon forms a snake as the many different speeds people move by, spread them out. A determined Donavich shouts encouraging words as they slowly leave their homes behind.
  Meanwhile, Grace jumps to safety from the makeshift ramp as eldritch energy condenses like a sphere of thunderous energy around the ramp and the zombies fall to the ground on the other side of the iron fence, one of them getting impaled on the spikes. Our group wordlessly run westward towards the open fields that separate the town from the wild forest beyond. The church bells continue to ring out, their sound still drawing the attention of the hoards allowing for the escape of our heroes. The Old Svalich Road meanders through the sowed fields, its cobbles strewed with tatters of cloth and an assortment of household items dropped along the way. As the group arrives at an old stone bridge they catch up to Ismark and Donavich at the rear of the caravan. They have successfully evacuated the inhabitants of the village.