“Adventurers are crucial because we all know that city guards and other military orders have their own purview and assignments to deal with. Thus having a group that can operate in the wilderness without the use of irregulars or specialized rangers can only be a benefit to society. Well, that and we can write off their losses without paying the families any compensation. It is with these considerations that I would also like to add that many outlanders we have met have also expressed desires of joining such a group and I suspect if we allow the guild to function within our territory we might gain said expertise as well.” - Lieutenant Colonel Kiara Elsoleil, Potomian National Army - Letter of Petition for Guild Establishment to King Ruthark II
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A loud roar interrupted the malformed undead, halting them mid movement, claws hung in suspended animation near the tree. For her part, Sophie could feel the exhaustion gradually overtake her and struggled to see what had become her unlikely savior. What the fuck, where the first words that crossed her weary mind.
Illuminated by torchlight, the drake hung limply inside a loose circle of undead, his body pierced by a multitude of different weapons. Limbs ripped asunder as his party watched on in mute horror. Blood pulled underneath the body soaking into the ground below, revealing an intricately designed circle in the dirt, grooves filling with crimson liquid.
In one swift motion the largest undead yanked the chains forward sending the woman tumbling next to the drake, frantically struggling to break free. Without warning, the undead moans and groans echoed once more, as if they were performing some strange alien ritual. Fleshy and rotted arms moving off beat yet surprisingly in sync with each other.
“No!” The man screamed futilely.
That was when the screams reached a crescendo as the dead gathered in a circle, the largest one in center, and stabbed downwards into the poor soul, then ripped outwards. A crimson shower erupted amidst the scream of pain, painting the gathered undead with red dots and bits of viscera. As her scream died down, the wail of her comrades could be heard, in particular the man who now openly wept distraughtly. Weeping into the ground he appeared mentally shattered as the larger of the catkin attempted to comfort him, only for her to be yanked forwards over the corpse of her companion.
Equal parts horrified and fascinated, Sophie watched as the ritual began anew only to feel that tingling sensation once more. Not a leggy feeling, but one of paranoia and uneasiness. Taking the moment to gaze around, she found her eyes meeting that of the younger catkin. Rounded green eyes stared at her, the torch light barely reflecting off of their eyes giving off an eerie tint. Auburn fur tinted with black and white stripes stood on their ends as the prisoner zeroed in on Sophie. They saw me, saints above if she shouts I’m dead, her mind panicked. But no shouting, or pointing, or gesturing, just the chants of the undead as they carried on with their ritual. No, she’s pleading, Sophie realized as the catkin wordlessly mouthed the words to her, she said ‘help us’.
It was then the surviving cloaked figure attempted to make his escape, shaking off the undead dragging him around before he took off running. The large dead seemed to give orders as it growled, sending off a handful of minions to run down the disobedient sacrifice leaving only ten odd undead behind. The man and the older catkin took that moment to begin their own rebellion, charging against the remaining creatures.
Sophie winced at the sickening cracking of bones as the two smashed their bare fists against the two closest undead. She assumed the man was a rogue of sorts as he bobbed and weaved, ducking and dodging the oncoming blades before returning jabs of his own. The feline pounced on top of one of the malformed creatures, her own claws tearing the pus-filled head off the creature sending a river of sickly ichor flowing down from its neck. The undead responded with viscous roars of their own and counterattacked the valiant duo.
One of the malformed creatures reared back and lunged with alacrity, surprising the feline as the two tumbled into a chaotic melee. The weapon wielding dead on the other hand, responded as emotionless dead would and slashed at the poor man, though he survived a few more blows and even bashing two skulls into dust, a vicious cleave from the largest undead cut the man in two. With nary a gurgle he collapsed on top of the elven woman, covering her in a shower of viscera and entrails. In a burst of rage the remaining fighter threw off the creature and tackled the large undead and herself into the fire, her rage filled screams echoing into the night.
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There were only two creatures and three skeletons left, odds that a veteran adventurer would be able to handle. But Sophie couldn’t move, though one hand rested on her spear, her muscles refused to budge, refused to move. What is happening? What is happening? She could only stare in mute horror as the young catkin shared a look of sorrowful hatred, likely on the verge of spitting out curses as the remaining dead moved to drag her away.
Sophie wanted to cry, she wanted to scream or throw the spear but her body wouldn’t obey her. In a fit of self loathing she clenched her hand into a fist, only realizing that an occupant was still resting within. Its guts and a liquidy substance began coating her palm as little now detached legs rested within her hand. I…I just squashed a…in my hand…it feels so… She had barely formed a coherent thought when she screamed and desperately tried to wipe away the spider’s remains, jiggling around the tree widely as she sought to smear what’s left onto the bark and not her.
It took most of a few seconds for her immediate panic to subside as she realized how ridiculous it was in the situation she was stuck in. Something which was made all the more evident when she turned around to see all the remaining undead staring up at her, a dark look in their hollow eyes.
She felt the crunching of bone underneath her boot as she landed, the first sword wielding undead crumpling into a pile under her as the rest of the undead moved to attack the new intruder, their movements filled with malice. Feeling a small gust of wind she darted backwards as one of the dead stabbed forward, the blade narrowly falling short. Aiming a blow to decapitate the second, she panicked as she thrust her spear at the creature, embedding it into its vile pus ridden abdomen. Both combatants froze as they stared at each other, or at least that’s what Sophie felt like as she swung her fist with a desperate might a horrified thought crossed her mind in a split second. This will hurt.
With a sickening crack the second undead’s head snapped off its rotten neck as Sophie reeled from the blow. She howled in agony, the shocking force of the blow sent a soul sucking jolt throughout her body, her hand unconsciously releasing the spear as the creature collapsed with it still embedded. As she shifted her position her right leg finally gave out from the strain and she tumbled backwards, smashing her back onto the tree bark behind her. Ow! Shit shit! Rolling away from an oncoming blow, she watched as the young catkin chose this moment to escape, her chained movements drawing the undead furthest away from Sophie as it moved to pursue. The elven women meanwhile had pushed off the man's body and grappled one of the remaining undead’s legs, dragging it down and drawing the attention of both remaining creatures.
Droopy flesh swung freely as one of the dead lifted its axe and aimed a clean cut at the woman, splitting her head right open as she let loose one last gasp of air. Seeing that she would be next, Sophie did what she suspected Eva would do in this situation. Mustering up the last of her reserves she pushed herself back up and tackled the undead to the ground while its back was turned. Landing on top of it, she hastily reached for the closest weapon and began bashing away at its skull with the shattered skull of its former comrade. Hearing a satisfying pop, she quickly turned to scavenge for another weapon and grabbed the axe before smashing its skull into a fine bone meal pulp.
The last undead cut off the woman's arm with a brutal chop, hand still gripping its leg as the undead squared off against Sophie. This has to end now, I can’t keep up. Holding back her pain she charged at the creature, a mad dash to the finish line as it too returned the attack in kind. Using her uncoordinated left hand, she performed a firm swing of her own as she felt her axe impact the undead’s wretched skull, shattering it into a fine dust as its own swing launched her backwards, embedding the sword just above her heart.
Sweat dripped from her brow as she glanced at her wound, surprised at how well she was taking it. Pulling the sword away she watched in shock as her uniform’s pocket fell away with it, the book she had hid there almost cut through, but the last chapters survived the strike. For a small moment Sophie began cackling maniacally before a dull thud intruded upon her celebration.
The deed done, Sophie stared at the carnage around her, how everything had gone wrong so fast. Five humanoid corpses lay scattered in various states of damage, the limbless cloaked figure still the most damaged. A variety of monstrosities and skeletons lay defeated around them as the sickening smell of charred cat from the warrior’s brave sacrifice unpleasantly tickled Sophie’s nostrils.
She glanced down at the now dead elven woman, she had so many questions. Clearly they were present when she was thrown in. They also likely could tell her where she was. But now, Sophie was left alone again, the only other living people having run away with the dead fast on their heels. As exhaustion finally took hold once more, Sophie slumped back against the tree, uncaring of the sickening tear that sounded as her uniform scraped against the bark. Her hands ached, her muscles ached, and whatever care Eva had shown her leg had been undone. Eva…she missed her, and as the pulsating pain in her head returned she passed out once again.