Improv: ECL 1 Osiris Eloah Elf Wizard (Generalist) 1: Journal Entry 2

Zombies to the left of me. Skeletons to the right. Here I am struck in the middle with them, my comrades in arms for nothing more than survival. Don't get me wrong, survival is of the utmost importance but can one truly survive against such overwhelming odds? After witnessing first hand the sheer power of the word from the man of the cloth, I say yes! I just pray there is a quieter way as noise seems to attract them. I must continue to look into this, very interesting. After incorporating a small band of refuges, a guard captain, what appears to be a couple of thugs and a few more women and children, things are becoming a little more, complicated shall we say. After barricading ourselves in this ransacked merchant building and getting a slight chance to replenish some of our supplies, the inevitable attack began. I must say the combat prowess of the Orc was something to be hold I almost felt sorry for the zombies, almost. As I provided "cover" from the second story window with my crossbow the big fellow made short work of several of those undead with his long spear. After one such exploit of sheer barbarism, I noticed a slight, almost indiscernible distortion to his meaty arm. He was infected. I'm not quite sure how or when but I was certain. With the staggering number of zombies descending upon us and every one doing their best to stave of the attack, I pondered the question, What should I do? He was rather close to the edge of the building, maybe I could..... That's just silly, listen to me rambling on. I need to stay focused and consult with the group. If anyone else has noticed this infection, contamination, or whatever it is even my keen elven eyes can't tell. Then just at quickly as it began, the attach was over, for now. I took this as my one chance to get the group up to speed; however, I did leave out this tidbit of information to the new additions to the group. For better or for worse I'm not quite sure but time will tell. As we found a secluded place downstairs in the cellar, four more zombies made their appearance. The Cleric, calling upon the faith of his God, made short work of the rotting corpses and insured they would not rise again. One by one I told them what I noticed, all the while keeping a weary eye on the Orc. I suspect he may know more than what he is letting on. After a brief discussion we decided to tell Trebuchet, I feel we owe him at least that much. "Infected!" He said. "Yes, I'm sorry" I said. After a few experiments it became clear that this unknown strain of infection was beyond our collective curative prowess. As I continued to ponder a cure and refuse defeat, Trebuchet made a comment I never though I would hear from a victim, "Cut it off". A matter of fact statement, "Cut it off". As much as I hate to admit it, this maybe the only way to save him, and possibly us. Using my spellfire I was able to provide not only stabilizing magic as the Warmage severed the arm but also fire to cauterize the wound. The last thing I want is this contamination spreading to the party. Our next move, the Church. Surly we can hold up there for awhile. As we all prepared to leave, it seems the zombies themselves need "sustenance" as they look to be "resting". Curious, very curious. I must look into this when I have more time. Now, off to the Church!