Outracing the undead hoard wasn't so difficult, as they move quite slowly. The creatures were, likewise, not very intelligent, seemingly forgetting our very existence the moment that we left their sight. These qualities combined should have made for an easy escape, and would have if their numbers were at least halfway reasonable.
As weak as they seem, fighting them is clearly not an option, either. Sure, our party, minus Carrie-Anne, the newcomer, might have faced large numbers of foes in the past, and in many ways these wandering dead fighters were less dangerous than the death weavers, but there are just too many of them. Even if we could avoid getting overwhelmed by their sheer numbers, I can only imagine just how long the battle would take. Personally, I'm also less than comfortable fighting former humans. It's nowhere near as bad as facing flesh and blood ones, and I know that they don't feel any pain, but they're just too similar too actual people for me to put the idea from my mind.
Originally we had planned (well, 'planned' might be kind of an exaggeration) to simply run on through, but the battlefield spanned across the road ahead, the old warriors clustered too densely to hope to dodge and weave around all of them. Our efforts large only earned us more attention, however. Sure, the moment that one of the undead was distracted by, well, anything, they would completely forget about us, but the relatively open plain meant that we, and they, respectively, could see for quite a great distance. This just resulted into us running from one group, only to run head-long into another, adjust course, and essentially repeat that process in another direction. It was far from the most sound strategy, and we had found ourselves in the middle of the massive battle without even really realizing it, having no time to properly plan.
While the dead plains are largely wide open, and made up of gradual slopes, they aren't entirely without shelter. There are ruins strewn all about, hardly recognizable as former buildings, with little more than short, crumbling walls remaining, few of which are even taller than myself, but we managed to get lucky. We found a cellar, or at least what was once a cellar. It still is, I suppose, even if the wooden door has long-since rotted away, along with any semblance of whatever was originally stored within. Still, the stone, inner walls remain intact, and while the chamber is far from a massive one, it does run deeply enough to put us out of sight of the slow chasing decrepit soldiers.
And here we are. Me and Slave lie down on the dirt floor, panting from both the run and general stress of the situation. Vile looks mildly concerned, which says a lot coming from her, but remained atop the back of the black cat all the while and thus didn't tire herself out. As for Carrie? She's gone, insisting on going out to scout, alone, in spite of my objections. She insisted that she would be fine, being able to fly well out of the reach of the foes, and while the logic was sound enough, it still leaves me feeling quite nervous.
"Do you think she'll be back soon?" I ask, looking to the stream of light which flows in from the rotted wooden stairwell above.
"I doubt that she's in any danger." Slave says, "I don't think that any of those soldiers are smart enough to use magic, a bow or any other sort of ranged attacks."
"That doesn't mean that she won't just run off, though." Vile replied.
I want to argue, but I honestly can't. We didn't really have an ironclad deal set with the crow, instead the arrangement being that she would basically help us until she decided that she had earned the money I had paid. As for how long that would take, that's anyone's guess, and if she were to decide that she'd done enough, I'd hardly be in a position to argue. Still, I would be a little disappointed if that were the case. I know that, in the end, she's just a mercenary at heart and that we haven't known one another for very long, but I'd still like to believe that we're friends.
Fortunately, it's only moments later that the black bird silently swoops in and lands on my back... with an unpleasant pinch of her talons. "Well, the good news is that they didn't even try to attack me. I managed to get a good look around, and they didn't care at all about my presence." Carrie says.
"...and the bad news?" Vile asks.
"The bad news is that those things are... well, they're everywhere. When they first spotted us, one of them blew a war-horn which attracted the attention of all of the others for miles around. Even those that didn't actually see us are still heading in our general direction. If anything, there's way more of them now than there were before, and I don't think that sneaking past them will be an option."
We all nod in understanding, but Slave furrows her brow a bit. "Wait... if they're dead, they don't have working lungs, right? Plus, I don't think any of them even had lips left, for that matter. How did they manage to blow a horn?"
Claire sighs, about to give an answer, taking a good few seconds to realize that she doesn't have one. "I... I don't know! Does it really matter?" she grumbles, seemingly quite annoyed.
"I guess not." The black cat replies, but still seems disappointed by the lack of explanation.
"So, what's the plan here? Do we wait them out?" I ask.
"Unless we're planning on waiting for a few centuries, I don't see that working out too well." The crow answers.
"Maybe we can cause a distraction?" Vile says after giving the matter a few moments of thought, "You said that they started coming from miles around. If we can do something similar, far away from here, maybe they'll leave?"
"Maybe." Carrie-Anne says, "But we don't even know what got them so interested in us in the first place. All I can say for sure is that it isn't me. I don't see how we'd manage to get their interest, even if we could get far enough away to cause that distraction."
"Maybe we could steal one of those war-horns?" Slave says.
"Does anyone here have lips?" The crow gives the cat an annoyed side-eye. Nobody answers in the affirmative, of course, "Well, there you go."
I feel like she might have been a bit too quick to dismiss that idea. Those walking corpses don't have lips, either, and apparently can blow the horns just fine, somehow. Still, I'm not sure if I could properly blow a horn.
"Well, I don't think I can wait a few centuries. Isn't there anything we can do?" I say. I don't really know how long a century is, but I'm still quite confident in that assessment.
"First things first, I'd like to narrow down exactly what's drawing them to us. We might be able to make a plan from there. We know that it's not me, so I say one by one we test it out. We can always just run back if they start getting aggressive. Even in the unlikely event that one or two manages to follow us down here, we can take them out pretty easily." The crow says, "Slave, you go first."
"Why should she go first?" I ask, not liking the idea one bit.
"I figure that she's an unlikely candidate. If they're drawn to anything, it's more likely to be either Vile's mana or your... paladin-ness."
"Makes sense." Vile nods, hopping off of the soft furred back of the feline, "You're more than fast enough to slip away if there's any trouble. Still... be careful."
The cat nods, obediently, and wastes no time in running up the wooden steps. It's silly to worry, both because she's fast and virtually indestructible, but I just can't help it. I let out a deep, relieved sigh as she returns a couple of minutes later.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"Nothing." she says, "They don't seem to care about me at all."
"Well, that narrows it down a bit. Vile, let's go with you next." The crow says to the rat.
"You don't need to go alone." Slave says, crouching down, "We know that they aren't interested in me, so we can both go together, and I'll get you away if there's any trouble."
"Heh, I'm sure that I could handle a fun corpses... but those stairs are a bit steep for me." the rat shrugs, as she hops back up onto the back of her pet. Slave smiles, as she swiftly carries her mistress outside once more. That sense of worry returns once again, for a few reasons. One, Vile is the most physically vulnerable amongst our group, and two, if she isn't the problem, well, that only leaves me. As it turns out, she isn't the problem. The pair return quickly and without incident.
"I guess it's the princess' turn." Carrie says.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that..." I grumble.
"I think it's a very suitable title." Slave grins. Vile seems to be similarly amused by it.
"There's always the chance that for some reason they were drawn to us as a group, rather than just individuals." The crow adds, "Frankly, I'm still pretty confused by this. I don't see why zombies would know, or care that Squire is paladin, but I'm running out of ideas to test."
I perk up a little at the idea that maybe it isn't my fault, and nod my head. I rise to my feet and head out through the open cellar passage. It's kind of nice to see sunlight again. Even if we weren't stuck underground for all that long, I still had the nagging fear that the place would become out tomb. Things are looking pretty good, too. There are no shortage of shambling, armored figures wandering around, striking one another with rusted, broken swords and spears whenever they get too close to one another, but they seem to ignore my presence. I walk a little further away, just to make sure, and my confidence grows. This isn't entirely good news, though... it brings us no closer to solving the mystery of the aggression of the fallen troops.
It seems that my confidence wasn't quite warranted, however. The creatures were quick to forget us, and weren't actively searching for myself or anything else, for that matter. It seems that I had just gone unnoticed, at first, and while none of them actively looks for me, they were still quick (well, by their standards) to react once I appear within their eye-line. A broken wooden horn was raised to the bony mouth, and echoed with a dull warble. I wouldn't have thought that these creatures would have ears, either, but countless fleshless heads immediately turn in my direction. I immediately regret walking so far out from our underground shelter.
Battle Start! Squire versus WanderingDead(8)
Squire uses Divine Strike!
WanderingDead(1) suffers 825 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(1) is defeated!
WanderingDead(2) suffers 873 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(2) is defeated!
WanderingDead(3) suffers 902 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(3) is defeated!
WanderingDead(4) suffers 893 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(4) is defeated!
WanderingDead(5) suffers 831 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(5) is defeated!
WanderingDead(6) suffers 850 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(6) is defeated!
Critical hit! WanderingDead(7) suffers 1698 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(7) is defeated!
Critical hit! WanderingDead(8) suffers 1755 point(s) of damage! WanderingDead(8) is defeated!
WanderingDead(9), WanderingDead(10), WanderingDead(11), WanderingDead(12) and WanderingDead(13) have joined the battle!
Squire's has fled from the battle! Squire has gained 640 experience points and 80 gold(s)!
The silent, shambling figures are closing in from all sides, and I have no interest in sticking around to see how the battle will turn out. Luckily, their attacks are just as slow as their walking speed, and by the time the creatures raise their weapons to strike me, I'm already past them. This isn't to say that there's no danger, however. I have, indeed, wandered too far, and the direct path to our hiding place is now closed off, but fortunately, I'm able to find a space where the soldiers are more thinly packed, and manage to take the long way back, panting heavily as I rush down the wooden steps.
"Um... I think it's me that they're after." I say, sheepishly after regaining my breath.
Carrie doesn't look too happy about this revelation, however. "I don't get it... it just doesn't make sense. These things can barely even perceive the world around them... the idea that they could be drawn to something as intangible as divine energies..." she sighs and shakes her head before freezing. She looks up and narrows her eyes, staring at me. Or, more accurately, staring just above my shoulder.
"What? What is it?" I ask, meekly, in response to the accusatory stare.
"Of course they're attacking us..." she grumbles, "You're carrying a sword! Even long dead soldiers still have the instincts to recognize you as a potential threat!"
"Huh?" I ask, looking back at the handle which is conveniently set within reach of my mouth.
"You've got to get rid of it." Carrie says.
"No way! It's a family heirloom!" I say. Okay, technically it's not an heirloom of my family, but it is someone's! "I can't just throw it away!"
"I'll hang onto it." Vile says, leaving her mount to step closer to me. I can see the air swirl and shimmer in front of her, with the familiar magics of what she called a 'portable hole'. I furrow my brow a little, hesitant. I've had a sword on my back for nearly as long as I've been adventuring, and it feels like a legitimate part of me. That said, I can't really argue. If this is really what's making the undead attack us, well, hiding it for a little while is the obvious solution. With some effort, I remove not only the weapon, but the scabbard and straps from my body, handing it out in front of me where it vanishes into the ether. I find myself feeling strangely naked without it.
"Let's try this once more..." Carrie-Anne sighs, "I'm pretty confident this time, though."
I wish that I felt the same, but I still reluctantly lead the way, Slave and her rat mount following closely behind. There are even more undead around now, the horn calling all those nearby to our immediate vicinity. It's downright awkward to get around them, but as our newest ally had predicted, none of them, not even those looking straight at us pay any mind to our presence. I guess that they recognize anyone with a weapon, even a dog, as an enemy. Without it, well, I'm just another animal. And I kind of feel like one, too. Sure, that shouldn't be such a bad thing, but I suddenly feel so much less special.
Our group travels in silence. I don't think that we are in any sort of danger, even if we made some noise, but we're all still on edge as we duck and weaved through the thin, bony legs or the old warriors. On the bright side, once we manage to escape that massive cluster of them, their numbers thin out significantly. They were all seemingly instinctively drawn to the horn. As we pass through, many smaller fights break out between the immortal fighters, and still more would continue to as they grew more densely packed until it became another full-on war zone, but that isn't my problem anymore.
My problem lay in the distance, away from the road. Something that I can't seen see, only perceive in an intangible way. "Vile?" I say, stopping dead in my tracks, my eyes locked on seemingly nothing.
"Yeah?" The rat answers, seemingly a little unnerved by my sudden intensity.
"I'm going to need my sword back."
---
Squire: "That was pretty unpleasant. I hope that we don't run into many more undead in the future."
Vile: "You never really encounter them in civilized areas. There's something of a taboo against necromancy, and it's banned in most places."
Slave: "I guess that I can see how magic used to manipulate the dead might be frowned upon, although I have no doubt that Mistress Vile would use it responsibly."
Carrie-Anne: "Oh, it's not banned due to any sort of moral reasons. In the past, reanimated corpses were used as a cheap source of labor by the wealthy, leading to a massive workers revolt among the peasantry which, inevitably, led to the near eradication of the entire magical school."
Slave: "Really? Are you sure? That kind of sounds made up."
Carrie-Anne: "This is a story. It's all made up."
Vile: "Look, I know that these sections are supposed to be silly and non-canon, but that's getting just a little bit too meta."