Act I-I: The Village of Mayfield

Varn takes aim with their crossbow at the feeble sheep that G'nark maimed horribly. With absolute precision, the bolt embeddeds itself smack dab in the center of its cranium, right between the eyes! The sheep slumps down, still in death as nature would have it.
With a threat downed, the youthful appearing Sentinel moves forth and unleashes a chill blast of glacial wind! Of the 18 that surround the building ahead, now seeming to be a tavern or inn, six are caught in the cone of frigid frost, while the others on the sides continue butting heads upon the wood and stone. Three of the sheep are hit by the spell and are frozen stiff! They make no noise any longer as they expired, but the other three that were caught in range merely have some of their woolen coat covered in frost and rime, the damage done. The front windows of the tavern frost up from the after-effects.
Prusx calls forth a nocturnal ally to attack the remaining enemy on the front side. The bat does exceptionally well, as two of the three that survived the frost perish from the creature's flyby attacks!

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13 sheep remain, continuing to butt the walls, trying to break in to the tavern. However, with the coming of noise, their attention is pulled to the new source of potential meals!
The sheep that remains covered in frost turns feebly and starts approaching Judea, as well as another two! Upon reaching the living construct, they attempt to chomp down on her legs! One of them manages to bypass her plating and deals 15 piercing damage!
The others hobble and wobble past them to feast on the others of the party and potentially those in the wagon.

Round 2 - Start!

Like a maelstrom of focused fury, the party makes quick work of the undead ewes and rams. G'nark's guardian spirits shred a majority of them. Talyn crisped perhaps three or four of them in a tall line of flames. Judea, in an awe-inspiring dance with their blade, slashes and pierces the three around her - with one that was slain by a concussive boom as it attempted to move away. Varn with great accuracy pins a sheep that barely left the tavern to its wooden exterior. Prusx's familiar, keeping to the air above the sheep, proceeds to finish off the remaining sheep, leaving them in disheveled piles.

After the dust had settled, the villagers from the caravan start to creep in behind, as well as the tavern's door creaking open. The face that pokes out is that of an aged male, his hair thinning on the top, his face showing that he has seen things in his past. With the door open and the man standing outside, looking around, a few others follow him. Those that look around, on both sides, are utterly shocked and dismayed - some even break out into tears.
The man from the tavern approaches the party, his face sullen and worn. He nurses a bandaged arm that hangs in a makeshift sling.
"Thank the gods... Had you not come with our other kin, I doubt much good would have befallen our fair Mayfield... Me and a few others tried to fend them off, but we overwhelmed as more came. Luckily, our village's priest is an adept in healing. But where are my manners? My name's Peculiar: most just call me Ol' Peculiar. I'm the owner of The Skeletal Arms Tavern, where we took refuge. We don't have much to offer as thanks, but I'd like to offer you all to stay in my establishment as long as you're here."

After inspecting the remains of the now dead sheep, Judea comes to the conclusion that these sheep were magically cursed and raised! However, it seems that they may have been able to inflict their curse unto others, but the extent is not known as to whether or not anything outside of animals are vulnerable to it. Additionally, something just seems off about them. The undead aura, the faint energies that permeate the air about them, is fairly weak. One might hypothesize that whomever did this was either very inexperienced or did this by some strange accident. She relates this to everyone after all is inspected.

"The Skeletal ARMS, lass," Peculiar corrects Judea. "I used to be an adventurer like yourselves. I've had to fight plenty of skeletons in a tomb once - that's where the name, and plenty of my scars, come from."

His attention turns next to Talyn and Prusx.
"R-right, we'll try our best to remember," he says a bit perplexed. "And no, this is the first we've ever seen any undead here in Mayfield. We rarely have to deal with raiding bandits. As far as when they first attacked, I'd say... Since the very early morning, maybe? All I can recall through the haze of panic in the village was that people were clambering inside my tavern since about 8 in the morn. It seems to have started after a strange courier came through. He purchased a room, but he hasn't been seen since the panic broke out.
"They went back off into the fields, that's perhaps the best I can tell, miss goblin. If I had to guess where, for some strange reason, I'd have to fathom the thought of maybe the Timberashe farm."

"Like I said, no one's seen him since the fracas began," Peculiar sighs heavily, the stress wearing on him like sacks of sand. "I checked every room I've got and everyone was accounted for aside from him. It's like he barely stayed in there.
"As for the Timberashes, they're the only ones with a farm out that way. These sheep came from their property, as no one else around in the village. So something I'll must be happening there..."

Peculiar looks betrayed by himself, realizing that he had grabbed on for long enough.
"By the gods! My age is truly wearing on my mind! Please, you must help the Timberashes - I'll tend to the others that you travelled with!"
He points in the general direction of the farm, urging great haste. He cannot lead the party directly after a battle injury from years long since passed.