Vilkar approached the farmhouse, taking in its weather-beaten facade and the sagging roof. He could see that the building had seen better days, but he was undeterred. He was on the lookout for loot, and he had a feeling that this place might hold some secrets.

As he pushed open the creaky wooden door, he was greeted by a musty smell that made his nose wrinkle. The inside of the farmhouse was dimly lit, the light filtering in through the cracks in the wooden shutters. Vilkar's eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness, but as they did, he could make out the shapes of old furniture and farming tools scattered about the room.

He stepped further inside, his footsteps causing the old wooden floorboards to creak and groan. Vilkar's eyes roamed the room, searching for any signs of treasure or clues to the zombie ambush. He noticed a large, rusted scythe leaning against one wall and a pile of old hay bales in the corner.

After closer examination, he found out that it was an ordinary object holding no magic or magical properties.

As he continued to explore, Vilkar heard a faint shuffling noise coming from a nearby room. His heart quickened with excitement as he crept towards the sound, his hand reaching for the hilt of his trusty warhammer.

With a sudden burst of energy, Vilkar kicked open the door, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. To his surprise, he found himself face to face with a group of zombies, their pale eyes fixed on him with an unquenchable hunger. Vilkar braced himself for battle, ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

As Vilkar stepped forward, his warhammer raised high, the zombies lurched forward with a guttural growl. Vilkar swung his weapon with all his might, sending one of the zombies flying across the room with a sickening crunch. The other zombies closed in, their decaying flesh giving off a putrid stench that made Vilkar's stomach churn.

Vilkar ducked and weaved as the zombies lunged at him, his warhammer striking them with precise, powerful blows. The creatures seemed to have no fear, no pain, and no weakness. Vilkar felt a sense of unease creeping over him as the fight wore on. These zombies were different than any he had encountered before. Somehow they were more present, Vilkar could not describe it in any other way.

With fierce determination, Vilkar continued to fight on, dodging the zombies' attacks and striking back with his warhammer and burning them with hellfire. He could feel his strength waning, but he refused to give up. He would not let these creatures defeat him.

Finally, with one last mighty swing of his warhammer, Vilkar dealt the final blow to the last zombie. The creature crumpled to the ground in a heap, its lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

His strength continued to drop even after the battle and he knew that something was wrong. Vilkar hurriedly looked around and was able to see a life-size doll staring at him.

When his eyes met with the eyes of a doll his strength stoped weakening.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The Victorian life-size doll was a sight to behold, with her porcelain skin and delicate features. Her hair was a stark white color, cascading down her back in perfectly coiled ringlets, while her eyes were large and crystal clear, almost unnaturally so.

Her dress was a masterpiece of embroidery and lace, with intricate designs that seemed to dance in the light. The fabric was a rich, deep burgundy color, and it flowed around her like a river of silk.

Despite her beauty, there was something unsettling about the doll. Perhaps it was the way her eyes seemed to follow you wherever you went or the fact that her smile never wavered, no matter what was happening around her.

After he took a few steps forward he raised his hand to inspect the doll.

"Fascinating..." Vilkar said as he found out what it was.

"So you are Evangeline... what about Eve?" Vilkar said as he took the doll to his hand and brought it outside.

It was one of the eldrich creations made by old ones to serve as their spokesmen when they desired to communicate with "lesser creatures".

With a chuckle as he said, "Looks like I've found my new shopkeeper," he said to himself, settling the doll onto the rest of his loot. "What do you think, Eve?"

"With a little bit of hellish magic, you will make the ideal seller of my loot." Vilkar thought of ways to activate her and made himself her master.

When he was done he returned to the farmhouse to explore the rest of the rooms.

Vilkar took a deep breath and surveyed the rest of the farmhouse. It was clear that no one had lived there for quite some time - cobwebs hung from the ceiling and furniture was covered in dust.

As he began to explore, Vilkar made his way through the abandoned kitchen, where pots and pans lay strewn across the counters. He then moved on to the living room, where a rusted old gramophone sat in one corner and a moth-eaten sofa faced a fireplace, which had long since gone cold.

Vilkar made his way up the creaking staircase and found himself in what appeared to be a child's bedroom. A rocking horse stood in one corner, and a faded old teddy bear lay on the bed.

He moved on to the master bedroom, where a large four-poster bed stood in the center of the room. An old wooden chest lay at the foot of the bed, and Vilkar approached it cautiously. As he opened it, he saw that it was filled with old clothes and a few pieces of jewelry, which he quickly pocketed.

Finally, Vilkar made his way to the attic, where he found a dusty old trunk. He opened it to find a collection of old books and papers, and he eagerly began to sift through them. Unfortunately, they were ordinary items.

Finally, Vilkar came to the basement door, which was slightly ajar. He cautiously made his way down the rickety stairs and found himself in a dimly lit room. The walls were lined with shelves filled with jars and bottles of various sizes and shapes. Some contained pickled vegetables, while others held strange concoctions of murky liquids. Vilkar also noticed an old workbench with various tools scattered about.

As he made his way through the basement, Vilkar suddenly heard a strange noise. He turned around to see two zombie-like creatures staggering toward him. He quickly readied his warhammer and hellfire, preparing to defend himself against the undead enemies.

As the zombie lunged at him, Vilkar quickly sidestepped to avoid its grasp. He swung his warhammer with all his might, aiming for the creature's head. The weapon connected with a sickening thud, and the zombie stumbled back, its skull partially caved in.

But the undead monster was far from defeated. It shook its head, growling in anger as it charged toward Vilkar once again. Vilkar took a step back, preparing for another attack. This time, he aimed for the zombie's midsection, hoping to break its spine and immobilize it.

The zombie was surprisingly quick, and Vilkar's swing missed its mark. The creature grabbed hold of Vilkar's arm who in return summoned a torent of hellfire in its palm.

Flames started to burn the zombie until nothing remained, process took less than a second as the flames were exceptionally hot.