Of all the things that Finley had in stock, space was not one of them. He was taking on as much as he could from the dwarves. There was one free corridor down the center of the caravan that allowed him to walk from the front to the back.

He generally kept that area pristine. It was just enough room for him to lay down a bed roll at night. At least for him, that was his little slice of heaven. And so long as his bay mares had a nice cover over them, he was happy. He hadn't bought the little horse port that other tinkerers had raved about. At that exact moment he was regretting that decision.

"I can make a tripwire with local Flora. It will give us a head start if some zombies decide to attack at night."

"Will that be enough?"

"I honestly don't know. You said that you saw the goddess, right? Did she say anything special about how you were supposed to proceed?"

Anthony's blank stare told him all he needed to know.

"I honestly don't recall. The last few hours have been traumatic. Can we talk about something else? If I remember something I'll tell you."

"So do you want to take a vote? About what to do next? I assume you want to stay with me. I'm still heading to the kingdom. If anyone is alive and holding the line, that's where they will be."

Anthony sat in a reclined position against the caravan, propping himself against the wheel. The sky was a gorgeous blue and the fields were so pastoral that he couldn't help but wish he had time for a nap.

"What are the options? Hole up in the middle of nowhere, or head down to the nearest village? Are we going to sleep in shifts?"

"I don't need as much sleep as a human so I can do most of the watch. The darkness though, I'm not sure I can ease the horses in the full dark that it will be. We can make out way back to one of those farmhouses, and clear it out. If the zombies can't see us, then we should be safe... If there are any more of them."

----------------------------------------

The chosen ranger snuck past the patrols outside Dunnamore. The walls were fortified and there were bonfires raging inside. He was uncertain of how the undead had arranged patrols and kept fires going, but it was just his luck to be stuck with such an assignment.

He popped his head out over a gaping crack in the wall to see a group of them sitting around the fire. Next to them he saw about a dozen men and women, tied up to posts.

Beyond that was a cluster of three buildings. One of them must hold the controller of the undead around the area, and if he took that one down then the rest would be more mindless, easier to kill and perhaps help him to get the second class that his deity promised him.

Only one guard on top of the wall actually did his job with the patience only the dead possess.

He'll be the first one, then.

Tucking his crossbow into a sling, he pushed it up his back, thanking whomever that dead shop owner was that had left his door open when he became undead.

Mork bless his house and send him to a better place.

Hand by hand, he climbed, getting to where he can take a shot. He lined up a shot on his favored enemy and then loosed the bolt from his light crossbow.

Twelve bolts left.

The undead knight fell, silently slipping forward over the wall. The flash of the card in his soul was nothing against the bonfire behind the wall. The ranger gathered the card and the pieces he dropped.

Another bow ability. Excellent.

He didn't have time to read the card right now but it was going to be the next thing he did in downtime.

A sound from some of the horses kept inside the walls, alerted him of their direction . If he had known that they were keeping horses, then he might have brought one. It would be how he left, either way. A quick glance told him there were about twenty horses.

He sees a chance to cause some mischief and pulled out a vial of grease.

*These horses will provide a good distraction.*

He spread some of the grease evenly across the rope connecting to the stables. He made a quick snare trap that wouldn't last long. It only had to work once, and then badly. Using his woodsman skill he primed a torch attached to the snare. Then he adds the one thing he hadn't thought he would get some use out of-candle wire. Having not found any dynamite, he would have to content himself with homemade explosives.

Then he looked down, discerning which of the three targets to go for. The three tents looked similar in size of shape and any one of them could hold a death knight. If he was able to think like them he might hazard a guess, but with all that he knew, any one of them was good enough.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It was the old Monty Hall problem that his granddad had explained quickly to him as a youth. Now if only he could remove one of the options. He had to think that Mork had chose him because he knew about the Monty Hall problem, as the rest of his life dealt little with the things that the god of death and mathematics cared for. It stung.

He picked one at random after deciding which would be the hardest to sneak up on. There was no reason to hide. He would sneak in, decapitate the head of the undead here and then make off with one or more of their horses.

Probably.

The middle tent looked to be the hardest to reach, but would top brass want a longer walk to the exit? Either way, he found his way to the interior of the wall's edge.

He leaned into his ranger stealth skill, which had already reached fifth level. It helped him to find a pathway in the dark, avoiding the bright light of the two bonfires. He briefly wondered what they were burning before he saw a bony protrusion and his curiosity went away.

If he'd had a team for backup he probably wouldn't be so nervous. But then again, if he had a team he probably wouldn't be on a suicide mission from Mork to complete this damn quest. If Mork would have given him more details than he would be rewarded once he killed the death knight, then he would be happier, but then again?

He was at the rear of the tent, where the shadows were the darkest. The courtyard of Dunnamore had a lot of nooks and crannies around it's single story shops.

*Ranger class skill Stealth has advanced to level six.*

It was jarring that he got confirmation that he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. He paused before gently opening the flap with a bolt. If he had more bolts, then he could slowly whittle them down. But he needed a good blade and the death knight would have one of those in top of whatever card was in it's soul.

Mork hated the corruption of the zombie rot that turned humanoids and elvenoids into mindless beasts. If he could get an unlimited ammunition skill, he would be laying waste to the zombies with hit and run tactics. But he wasn't there yet.

The flap opened to a half naked knight.

"Who are you and why are you here?" The gravelly voice said.

"Paulie, here with a special delivery, bada bing, bada-"

*Thwip!*

He looked a bolt into the knights face, blowing the head clean off at that range.

"-boom."

On the side of the officers tent, a large sword in a special stand leaked dark power. Paulie hesitated for a second before grabbing it and then thrusting it through the death knights chest. The glow of a card popped up.

Epic Skill Card: Pathfinder Level 1

Find a friend or foe within five miles unerringly. As this card advances, the range advances.

He looked at it briefly before putting it directly into his soul. This would complement his existing skills immensely and Mork had intended for him to take this card. He had just met the deity, but he hadn't been steered wrong yet.

It was about this time that the rope he had greased up finally lit on fire. As he ventured out behind the tent for any guards, one of the other tents caught fire. Every single undead head in the place had turned to look directly at him.

*At least they weren't looking at the poor prisoners.*

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"The next town over-"

"Dunnamore. It's a dwarvish holding. Very rural. It supports the Irumian kingdom by providing them with all their food needs. Even farms this far out."

"Dunnamore. Ah. And you say that there's a walled courtyard we could use if we need to hole ourselves in there?"

"This is where the earth skills would come in handy."

"Interesting," Anthony said, "Like shaping the earth to form a part of the wall?"

"To patch it up, yes. I could do so with plants, but that would be difficult. And I wouldn't want to spend all that effort for them to just gnaw through the vines anyway."

"Ah. I see."

"Well if we wait for dark, at least we'll have some advantage. I'm sure that they're more dormant at night," Finley said, gulping.

"Are you sure about that?"

Darkness approached and then they could see two bonfires poking over a large wall.

"I'm certain that those were made on purpose. There has to be humans there. They're probably using them to incinerate the undead."

"That makes sense," Anthony said. "Is this a common thing?"

"I have never heard of it happening in my lifetime."

They continue on in silence then for a bit.

"We can still turn around you know. This close to the town, there are more roads than just the one that leads in. We can just go around it."

Finley's sense of the place did not extend inside of the city. He had expected some plant life to give him an idea of what was going on but he could barely see the town with his eyes from a span away. The sun dipped below one of the western mountains and the bonfires became even more pronounced.

"Hey, hero-Is that light getting brighter?"

"That... Can't be possible. Two bonfires and it's getting brighter?"

Finley reached to the horses, reading them to move.

"There's a road that goes around the town in a circle. We'll take that one," the elvenoid said, getting up. "It's going to be a hot night."

---

As soon as he activated the Pathfinder ability, he could feel it. Mork was pushing him to follow, in a very specific way. It wasn't just taking him to the right horse, it was pushing him away from the now mindless horde.

Next time, he would plan more ahead. Mork had promised him that there were more people that would fight against the undead. He needed to lead them away from the twelve that had thankfully been put into cages, even as some of the mindless undead scraped at the bar.

The horses would need to go first.

His pathfinder skill was telling him to pick one of the closest steeds, a white horse. Had he been a ranger for any longer, he might know the first thing about horses. His animal handling skill assured him that he would at the very least not fall off his horse.

He ran along the side of the wall as the zombies charged him. With no one directing their actions, they were far less effective.

The half door to the stable was easily dealt with. Then all the doorways were quickly opened. He ran up to the white steed, pulling on his animal handling skill. If nothing else he was going to ride out of here like a hero with a sword and a horse.

After making sure every horse was free to go, he pushed open the barn doors. The undead behind him hammered the entrance.

They can't get all of us, can they?

He could hear a familiar laugh as the barn doors opened and the horses made their way out. For a moment the chosen ranger felt like they were doing what he wanted, as they attempted to trample the first line of zombies.

"Quit horsing around guys," he said, spurring his steed onward, "I have someone to meet."