On a cold and windless night, an ancient tavern stands upon its wooden pillars, small cracks scarring its stone walls. It remains unkempt, the old tavern keeper was unable to keep up with the growing horde of undead that threaten to break down his tavern’s walls. The remaining lanterns cast a dim light within, where a handful of individuals have gathered to polish off the tavern's dwindling supplies of food and drink. As the townspeople eat and drink what seems to be their last meal, the peace is suddenly shattered by the bellowing voice of a tall, masculine figure. His fierce blue eyes shoot past the townspeople, landing on a mysterious figure. They turn to see his adversary: a female drow, her long red hair cascading over her skin as white as paper. Her vibrant red eyes look ahead with indifference, barely regarding the rampaging man approaching her.

The tavern doors slammed shut, the barbarian stomping towards the woman in red.

"Hey! You’re not allowed here!" the stranger roared, his voice echoing off the walls.

The dark elf barely glanced up, her fingers tracing the rim of her goblet.

"...And here I thought I could simply enjoy a drink," she murmured, disdain in her tone.

Then, a wicked grin spread across her face.

"But... perhaps I shall enjoy making you eat your words."

The stranger blinked, his fists clenching at her words.

"What? What did you say? Don’t you know who I am?" He says, appalled.

The elf cocked an eyebrow, uninterested. "I don’t—"

But the man cut her off, stepping closer and thumping his chest.

"I am Xerxes, the finest barbarian in my town! And you," he jabbed a finger in her direction, "you’re an evil drow!"

The elf stood, her cloak sweeping across the floor as she finally turned to face him. Her voice, icy and smooth, filled the room.

"Me? Evil?" She tilted her head, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Since you’ve introduced yourself, I shall return the courtesy. You may call me Madame Red... and yes, I am a drow. Now, kindly step aside before I make you."

At this moment, a furry left hand intervenes, preventing Madame Red from casting an attack on Xerxes. Both turn their gaze towards the new figure and behold a humanoid cat, with grey fur, blue eyes, and clad in dark blue robes. As tensions rose in the dimly lit tavern, a soft but firm voice interrupted the brewing conflict.

"Please," the stranger pleaded, stepping forward cautiously.

"Do not fight inside the tavern. I do not wish to be drawn into a brawl." His eyes darted around the room, taking in the wary faces of patrons, their unease palpable in the air. He gestured to the crowd.

"Look around you!" The once-lively chatter had faded, replaced with the nervous whispers of onlookers, all eyes now fixed on the confrontation.

The tavern, once a place of refuge, now teetered on the edge of chaos. Madame Red and Xerxes scanned the room, noting that every patron was armed and ready for a fight. Madame Red jerked her hand away from the furry figure’s grasp, wiping it off with visible disgust. Beside her, Xerxes grinned broadly, anticipating the brewing commotion.

Madame Red’s gaze landed on a small figure near the bar, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "And who might you be... hmm, feline?" she asked.

The humanoid feline perked up, his ears twitching as he stepped forward with a friendly smile. "Oh yes! Uhm... My name is Dexie, and as you can see, I am indeed a feline. I overheard your introductions earlier, so it’s a pleasure to meet you both—Madame Red and Xerxes!"

Xerxes’ grin widened, the earlier tension melting away as he nodded at Dexie. "Well, nice to meet you too!"

Dexie’s tail flicked excitedly as he continued, "How about a free drink for you two? Sounds good?"

Madame Red, ever composed, tilted her head slightly. "I have my coins, but if you insist... free is free, after all."

Xerxes clapped his hands together, eyes lighting up. "Ohh! Free drinks! We’re getting drunk tonight!"

Dexie blinked, his enthusiasm faltering just a bit. "Uh... only one drink... right?"

As the three sat in the tavern—Dexie dozing off at his seat, Xerxes indulging in his twentieth drink, and Madame Red casting a look of disgust at Xerxes—midnight struck, and a loud banging on the tavern door shattered the silence. Dexie jolted upright, Madame Red's gaze shifted cautiously toward the door, while Xerxes remained absorbed in his drink. The door creaked open, revealing an old, rugged, and frantic-looking priest, mumbling incoherently.

It was Father Lucien, the healer and priest of Greystone.

He limped inside, his leg visibly injured, muttering under his breath as he staggered toward a seat. The trio caught the word "crypt" repeated between his incoherent ramblings.

Madame Red’s usual cold composure faltered as she knelt beside him, panic flashing in her crimson eyes. "Someone help him!" she barked, her voice cracking. Her hands trembled for a brief moment before she forced herself to steady. "Stay still, Father. Let me look at your wound," she said softly, though her sharp commands betrayed her concern. Quickly, she set to work, her worry barely concealed beneath her calm exterior.

Madame Red lifted the hem of Father Lucien’s robe and recoiled as the smell hit her—his flesh was already rotting, surrounded by purple veins, the wound exuding a sickening stench. She examined the bite more closely and spotted something even more grotesque—a rotten tooth embedded in the flesh. The sight made her step back, her face twisted in disgust.

"There’s a rotting tooth in the bite mark," she muttered, grimacing. "I’m not getting close to that thing again."

Xerxes burst into laughter. "A tooth?! Maybe he just picked the wrong girl!" he guffawed, clearly entertained by his own joke.

Dexie, nervously chuckling, added, "Or maybe he got into a fight. Either way, we should probably leave, right?" His laughter trailed off awkwardly as the gravity of the situation dawned on him.

Madame Red shot both of them a sharp glare. "Get serious! We need to find help, now!"

In a sudden, dreadful moment, Father Lucien's body went limp and collapsed to the floor. The three companions froze, their eyes locked on his unmoving form. For a few tense seconds, a chill wind swept through the tavern, sending shivers down their spines. Then, as the wind grew stronger, Father Lucien’s body began to convulse—unnaturally, violently—before it reanimated.

Panic rippled through the group.

Dexie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What the...?"

Madame Red took a shaky step back, her voice faltering for the first time. "You’re dead... You can’t be alive—"

Xerxes blinked, rubbing his eyes as if to clear his vision. "Am I drunk?" he muttered, uncertain whether to trust his senses.

Father Lucien's body slowly rises, locking its gaze onto Xerxes before hurling itself toward him. With quick reflexes, Xerxes dodges, sending Lucien crashing into the stone walls of the tavern. The impact shatters his head completely.

Wiping his brow, Xerxes exhales in relief. "That was close."

Dexie's eyes dart to the ground, his fur standing on end. "THE HEAD! IT'S CRACKED?!"

Madame Red lets out an exasperated sigh, her patience wearing thin. "Will someone please verify if it's truly dead this time?"

Dexie quickly steps back, shaking his head. "Nope! Not me."

Xerxes grins, flexing his muscles as he steps forward. "I shall investigate!" he declares with a suspicious laugh, clearly enjoying the moment.

Xerxes approaches the prone form of Father Lucien, gazing at it for a brief moment before crushing the skull beneath his boot, ensuring the priest's demise. He turns to Madame Red and Dexie, smiling as if he finds humor in his action.

However, neither shares in his mirth. Madame Red remains focused on the lifeless body, while Dexie stands aghast at the unfolding events. Noticing their lack of response, Xerxes retracts his smile, a sense of melancholy washing over him as he returns to the group.

Madame Red kneels beside the still form, her eyes narrowing as she confirms its stillness. "Now that it is truly dead," she says calmly, her composure returning, "let us examine his body." She prepares to uncover whatever secrets the corpse might hold.

As they searched the body, they uncovered two items: a stake knife and a small pocketbook. Dexie grabbed the stake knife, while Madame Red secured the book. As night fell and darkness enveloped the tavern, the trio began to ponder their next course of action.

Xerxes scratched his head, glancing around. "So, what now?"

Madame Red stood up, her gaze shifting to the darkened windows. "Now? There are likely more of them out there. Did anyone bring any supplies?"

Dexie's ears drooped slightly as he sighed. "I left all my gear in my keep. How about you two?"

Xerxes blinked, suddenly realizing. "Oh, right! Where are my belongings?"

Frustration seeped into Madame Red's voice as she crossed her arms. "I, too, left mine at my keep. We should search this tavern for any useful items we can take with us."

As they survey the tavern, Xerxes spots an attic door in the ceiling. Without hesitation, he opens it, revealing utter darkness. Madame Red, noticing the opening, offers to help explore. Peering into the gloom, her eyes adjust, and she catches a glimpse of something within.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As she approaches, the floor creaks beneath her, causing an object to fall and startle her. Before venturing further into the darkness, she calls down to Xerxes and Dexie. "Hey! It's too dark in here! Can you fetch me a light source?"

Dexie nods quickly, his tail flicking with determination. "We'll bring it right away! Come on, Xerxes, help me gather materials for a torch."

Xerxes grins and claps his hands together. "Sure! I have just the idea." Eagerly, he follows Dexie, ready to put his plan into action.

Xerxes surveyed the tavern with a keen eye, then swiftly seized a stool and slammed it against the ground, splintering it into several pieces. The sudden crash startled Dexie, but Xerxes remained undeterred. He picked up one of the legs from the shattered stool, fashioning it into a makeshift club.

With deliberate intention, he approached the still body of Father Lucien. Tearing a substantial strip of cloth from Lucien's robe, he wound it around the top of the stool leg, creating a primitive torch. Xerxes then reached for his abandoned ale, dousing the cloth with the potent liquid.

Holding up the makeshift torch with pride, his eyes sparkled. "Aha! Behold, Dexie! I have crafted a torch."

Dexie raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. "Yes, I saw. I was watching you."

Xerxes’ enthusiasm waned slightly as he frowned. "Oh, right. The only problem now is how to light it."

Dexie stepped forward with a confident nod. "Here, let me see what I can do." He began rummaging through his bag for flint and steel, ready to tackle their latest challenge.

Xerxes handed the unlit torch to Dexie, who approached the fireplace, now extinguished by the earlier breeze. Dexie held the cloth close to the smoldering logs and gently blew on them. After several breaths, he noticed some embers still retained their heat. With persistence, he successfully ignited the torch.

Xerxes watched in awe as Dexie deftly lit the flame. "That’s clever! I would’ve never thought of that!"

Dexie shrugged, his tone modest. "It’s just simple survival skills, used creatively. Here, pass this to Madame Red. After that, let’s explore more around the tavern."

Xerxes nodded enthusiastically and hurried over to Madame Red. "Here, Madame Red! We’ve made a torch for you!"

She accepted the torch with a grateful nod. "Thanks! I’ll be down in a bit." As she began to carefully make her way toward them, the light flickered in the shadows.

Madame Red ascended to explore the attic. Raising her torch to illuminate the shadows, she noticed a faint reflection of light in the distance. With cautious steps, she approached the source and discovered a rune marked with blood, featuring an arcane symbol at its center. After examining it closely, she resolved to secure it for further study later.

Meanwhile, as Madame Red delved deeper into the attic’s mysteries, Xerxes stumbled upon a storage chest nestled against the wall, filled with spirits. He opened it gingerly and found a machete, a book, and four carrots. He took them all, setting them aside to share with the group later.

A moment later, a sudden knock on the tavern door startled Xerxes and Dexie. Meanwhile, Madame Red, still ensconced in the attic, remained blissfully unaware of the events unfolding below.

Filled with terror, Dexie glanced nervously at the heavy wooden door, while Xerxes, ever vigilant, readied himself for battle.

“Xerxes, you open it,” Dexie urged, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty in his voice.

Xerxes nodded, a determined grin spreading across his face. “Okay, get ready.” He braced himself and pushed against the door, prepared for whatever lay beyond.

Xerxes slowly approached the tavern door and opened it, revealing his dear friend Judas, impeccably attired and well-equipped. Both men visibly relaxed at the sight of one another after their separation. Xerxes called for Dexie to join them so they could discuss the events unfolding in Greystone.

Xerxes' eyes widened in surprise. "Judas! I can’t believe you’re here!"

Judas' face lit up with relief and joy. "Xerxes! It’s you! Thank God!"

Xerxes waved over to Dexie. "Dexie, come here! Meet my friend Judas."

Judas extended a hand with a friendly smile. "Hello, Dexie. Nice to meet you."

Dexie shook Judas' hand, his curiosity piqued. "Nice to meet you too. How was your travel?"

Judas frowned, his expression turning serious. "What do you mean? Wait— You guys have no idea?"

Xerxes tilted his head, puzzled. "About what?"

Judas looked between them, concern etched on his face. "I was in the village earlier and saw people attacking each other!"

Dexie's eyes widened in shock. "What! Why?"

Judas shrugged helplessly. "I don’t know! There were so many of them I couldn’t help, so I decided to come here, hoping to find some answers."

Xerxes furrowed his brow. "Why here?"

Judas glanced around the tavern, searching for familiar faces. "Look, Father Lucien usually comes here, so I thought maybe I would too! Is he around?"

Xerxes and Dexie exchanged a solemn glance, both reminded of Father Lucien's grim fate. At that moment, Judas rose from the table and surveyed the room, his gaze landing on Lucien's lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Horror widened his eyes as he took in the scene.

"What the— What happened here?!" he exclaimed.

Xerxes pointed an accusatory finger. "He started it!"

Judas looked bewildered. "What do you mean—?"

Dexie stepped in, his voice steady but urgent. "Listen, the father came in here limping, and we tried to help him. But as soon as one of us spotted the bite mark on his leg, he died."

Judas gasped. "What?!"

Xerxes nodded solemnly. "It’s true, my friend. Then, suddenly, he stood up again as if alive, but without a soul!"

Dexie continued, "He lunged at Xerxes but missed and hit the wall."

Xerxes added, "It seemed off, so I decided to kill him again."

Judas nodded, piecing the story together. "Now I understand. What’s happening outside is also happening to Father Lucien. How about I join you in investigating this tavern?"

Dexie smiled, relieved. "That’s a great idea."

Xerxes clapped his hands with a grin. "Just like old times."

Dexie wandered through the tavern, exploring its shadowy corners, while Xerxes and Judas lingered near the bar. What had started as a plan to gather clues quickly devolved into indulging in the remaining booze.

"Hey, look what I found," Judas said, holding up a bottle. "Come on, let’s try it."

"Why would I say no to that?" Xerxes grinned as they clinked their drinks and took long gulps.

As they stood by the bar, Xerxes noticed a door tucked beside the cabinets. He nudged Judas. "Hey, check this out. There's a door over here. Let’s see where it leads."

"Right behind you," Judas replied, his curiosity piqued.

They cautiously opened the door, revealing a narrow stairway that led down to a dimly lit basement. The flickering light cast long shadows as they descended the creaky steps.

At the bottom, a large metal door loomed ahead. Off to the right, in a darker corner, a faint figure was chained to the wall, barely illuminated by the scant light. The figure hung limp, its form obscured by shadows.

"Do you see that?" Judas whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

"Yeah... Let’s get a closer look," Xerxes murmured, already moving toward the figure.

As they approached, the dim light revealed a chest beside the wall and the woman who had been the faint figure. Her clothes were torn, and her hair matted in patches.

Xerxes moved first, stepping cautiously toward the chest. He opened it and rummaged through its contents, pulling out a shield, a sword, and a small, weathered rune. He studied the items briefly before tucking them away.

Meanwhile, Judas approached the woman, his hands trembling as he reached for the chains binding her to the wall. Her body was covered in bruises and claw marks, a testament to the torment she had endured.

"Careful!" Xerxes hissed, grabbing Judas’s arm. "She could be like the others you’ve seen."

Judas shook him off. "No, look at her. She’s not one of them. There are no bite marks. She’s a slave here, probably held by the barkeep. Quit freaking out."

Determined, Judas grabbed the chain and, with a grunt, wrenched it free from the wall. He did the same on the other side, and the woman collapsed onto his shoulders. Her body was limp, and her skin cold to the touch.

"Hey, are you okay? Talk to me," Judas urged, cradling her head. He gently slapped her cheek, trying to rouse her. But after the third slap, the woman's body twitched violently. Both men froze.

Xerxes instinctively reached for his weapon, his eyes locked on her. After a tense moment, she went still once more, her lifeless body draped over Judas.

"See?" Judas said, exhaling in relief. "She’s not one of them."

"Wait—Judas!" Xerxes shouted, but it was too late. The woman suddenly stood up, her eyes snapping open, glowing with a hungry, unnatural light.

Before Judas could turn to face the undead, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. The woman’s teeth sank into his flesh, and his body crumpled to the floor, paralyzed by the shocking turn of events. Xerxes stood frozen in horror, unable to process what had just happened to his friend. For agonizing seconds, he couldn’t move. Then instinct kicked in.

With a swift, brutal swing, he brought his machete down, severing the woman’s head from her body. The lifeless head dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

Panting, Xerxes dropped to his knees beside Judas, his heart heavy. Judas, barely clinging to life, shakily reached for his sword. His trembling hand lifted the blade, pointing it toward his own head. He looked up at Xerxes, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Thank... you... It’s been... a journey...” Judas rasped through ragged breaths.

With one final, deliberate motion, Judas drove the sword into his skull, ending his suffering. Xerxes watched in silent despair as his friend's body went limp, the light fading from his eyes.

For a moment, he remained there, kneeling in the cold, damp basement, his mind flooded with memories of their journey together. A tear slid down his cheek, and he made no effort to stop it. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. Without a word, he turned and left the room.

As he stepped into the basement corridor, the iron door behind him rattled, stopping him in his tracks. Xerxes froze, glancing over his shoulder. The door shook again, this time more violently. Then came the sound—countless fists pounding against the metal, the undead on the other side growing restless.

His heart pounded in his chest. He took a cautious step forward, his hand inching toward his weapon. But as he moved closer, the cacophony of undead groans and relentless banging grew louder. Too many. Far too many. Panic surged through him.

Xerxes turned on his heel and bolted up the stairs, his feet pounding against the wooden steps as he raced toward the tavern's main floor. He burst through the door, back into the dimly lit tavern where Dexie was still exploring.

Breathless, Xerxes slammed the door behind him, his pulse racing as the undead swarmed below.

As Madame Red descended from the attic, sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. She smiled, relieved to see both Dexie and Xerxes, though her joy quickly faded when she noticed their pale, exhausted faces.

"What happened here?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "Did you two find any clues?"

Startled by her sudden appearance, Dexie quickly responded, "We didn't find much, but Judas—"

Before he could finish, Xerxes interrupted, cutting him off sharply. "Wait! I found this in a chest," he said, holding up a book and a rune. "Dexie, you can have my machete and this shield. I'll keep this sword for now. Oh, and here are both the book and the rune, Madame Red."

Madame Red gave Xerxes a curious glance but took both items without further question.

She folded the attic stairs back into place and looked at both of them, her expression softening. "While I was up there, I also found a rune," she said, revealing it. "I can't make sense of it. Maybe one of you can?"

Dexie leaned in to take a look but shook his head. "I've never seen that rune before."

"Me neither," Xerxes added, studying the object but coming up empty.

Madame Red sighed, pulling out the rune Xerxes had given her. The moment her fingers made contact with its surface, they darkened, turning an ominous black. A sudden wave of weakness washed over her, causing her knees to tremble slightly. Alarm flashed across both Xerxes’ and Dexie’s faces as they noticed the change.

"Madam, are you alright?" Dexie asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Madame Red quickly tucked the runes away, forcing a smile as she steadied herself. "I’m fine," she lied, masking her discomfort with practiced ease. "It’s nothing. Now, let’s focus on what lies ahead."

She swiftly changed the subject, determined not to reveal the toll the rune had taken on her. "Well, it's morning now," she said, glancing out the window at the brightening day. "Why don't we head down to the plaza? Maybe we'll find something useful there."

Dexie and Xerxes exchanged a glance before nodding in agreement. The unease of the night still lingered, but with the daylight came a flicker of hope. Together, they gathered their things and prepared to leave, ready to face whatever mysteries awaited them in the plaza.