I boasted of having vision, but my great accomplishment only yields me the obscure outline of a few insects. I'm not even sure why I can see those. Heeh, this body feels a bit weird. While acclimating to the low visibility, I test out my limbs. Or I should be doing that. I am on two legs, right? Why can't I feel anything? Panic's grip clenches tightly to me. How about I blink? Nope. I already miss being, whatever I was before. Wow, okay, relax. I take a breath. I hope I do, anyway. Fear is of the weak-willed.

Calming down does not seem to be helping me. I'm quite sure I'm standing. The bugs are quite a ways down from my line of sight. Attempting to block my sight with my outstretched hand does not prove successful. New approach. Reach for the tiny crawlers. I did it. Sort of. This worm-like thing is squirming its way up my supposed arm. Weird. The existence of limbs, thus proven, provides a most-welcome comfort. I'm pretty slow, aren't I? I probably still wouldn't have noticed my previous all-encompassing perspective; without my current normal vision. Well, normal in the sense of directions. I don't think my previous sight would have these little, discernible halos of luminesence around the local bugs and plants.

Hey! It works on plants too. Haha! The doors of ingenuity open for this sagacious sapient. I recall the great technique of memories past. I let myself drop. Alright, my body truly does not have a sense of touch. On to phase two. Paying attention to my vision, I roll towards a fig plant. After a bout of bumbling, I manage to wrap a nice portion of the greenery around me. Yes, gather round little creatures. Hmm? For such haphazard movements, the vermin arrive upon me quite quickly. I try to not disturb, as many of the critters as possible, whilst getting to my feet.

Using my acquired light sources, I piece together my visage. Milky, white-silver coats my appendages. Maybe I'm wearing some type of thin plating. My gaze flows up from my feet. Thin. Am I malnourished? Well, as whatever body I've taken was in this cave; it makes sense it wasn't the most well-fed. This is a cave, right? No. Some transient haze still hinders my reasoning. This place was much smaller, when I was something...less tangible. Hey now, actually, isn't this place still getting bigger?

I approach the nearest wall and place my hand against it. Truly, this...cavern is expanding. Not as fast as during my rampage, but quick enough that my hand is no longer against the wall. With my improved lighting; I notice there is a lot of waste dropping from the ceiling. Wait. Over there. Is that pile moving?

I proceed toward the latest mound of interest. A hand, not dissimilar to my own, bursts through the top of the pile. There is a hole in its forearm. No! No, no. Please be something completely different from me. The second arm reveals itself and joins the pursuit of freedom. I finally, work up the guts to look at my body. Haha! Ahahahaha. Oh, just taking a lovely look through my ribs, aren't I? Hi, Vertebra. How you doin, Hips?

"Ha, ha, hahahahahah! I...I am a skeleton," I chuckle in delirium. Well, I attempt to chuckle. Instead, the sound signifying my desolation is a raw clacking of teeth. "Of all the things, Why? What revenge could be had, as a skeleton. Even beyond the reaches of life, I have become a joke. Hm, hmm, perfect, just beautiful," my thoughts do not stoke my psyche with anything positive.

My fist launches itself into the chest cavity, before any accompanying thoughts can decide otherwise. I see the gouged earth, where a skeleton's hands once appeared; but its appearance doesn't deter me. I slam the unwelcome being into the ground. I feel a tug at my mind. My rage builds ever further. Pound. Pummel. Pulverize. I smash the skull, shatter the ribs, break the sternum, and the fury continues to build. Something foreign tries to allay my temper, once more. I scream.

The high pitch echos within this room for only a flicker. The room has grown darker, although I still maintain a portion of my own creative-luminescence. I...I feel so empty. Exhaustion sets in. I don't recall venting ever being so draining. Do skeletons sleep? Isn't a sleeping skeleton just a corpse? I'm thinking too much. My eyes don't shut, but I exit consciousness, all the same.

Life beckons me, after the dreamless, visionless slumber relieves me of my weariness. I mentally prod at my extremities. I'm amazed at my improved control over my limbs. Lots of curious beetles litter my arm with perceived shining, as I test different motions. I shift my gaze around the room, rotating my body as needed. There are definitely more plants and scavengers. The place now resembles more of a excavated forgotten-cavern. Moss, creeping figs, mushrooms, and new vermin have infested this expanding territory. I spot a couple of dark crevices. Are those tunnels? Explore that later. I feast my eyes on something much more fascinating.

Three of my kind seem to be aiding in this place's expansion. I feel confident in my judgement, but well they're actions aren't the easiest to assess. One of the skeletons is on his knees, tearing at the ground with his boney hands. He is missing a few ribs, and there are see-through fissures decorating his cranium. I think he might be the one, that stood in front of me, earlier. I shall name him, Brainless.

The next noteworthy member of the trio possesses a more inspired mindset. His hands are planted firmly on each of his sides, and his legs stretch out. He drags his lower body backwards with a slight scooping motion, as his pelvic bones sweep the dirt away. I'm not sure what purpose some of his motions serve, as occasionally he'll just start thrusting his pelvis upwards. I'd have to get closer to verify; yet I'm quite sure he has two gold teeth with a silver one in the middle. I'll name this unappealing fellow, Vainjaw.

I've saved the prodigious one for my final inspection. The final member of the undead trio has wrapped a fig plant around a piece of wood. This worker has taken the support role of sweeping away the gathering dirt.

I spot a hole, that even seems to be deeper than the Brainless' and Vainjaw's perspective dug outs. Unfortunately, whenever Vainjaw moves his legs forward, he is shoving dirt directly into that hole. Brainless, on the other hand, has no set style and proceeds to just grab-and-toss in any direction. Within five releases of his upheavels, he also seeems to be slowly filling the deepest hole.

Impressed by the sweeping skeleton's insight, I decide to make my way to the group. As soon as I stand, the foreign will contacts me.

"Dig," its desire presses upon me.

"As if," I non-verbally retort.

I put my skeletal fingers on the interesting undead's shoulder. No response. Oh, right, I guess all of us lack a sense of touch. I step in front of my muse and behold the sight of golden pupils surrounded by absolute darkness. I wonder if my eyes look like this. While I share a locked gaze with my soon-to-be acquaintance, I'm interrupted.

"Dig! Dig!" the urge drowns out my hearing.

Excited by my discovery of hearing, I grow bold,"Um, no. I'm about to learn how to communicate with, Skellywise, here. Then, I'm gonna see what I can scavenge in this place. Aft---."

"Dig! Now!"

This thing is really.

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

I'd like to believe, I wasn't one to whore myself out to unseen forces in my lifetime. My unlife has proven, that joining the service industry is simply fait accompli. I wish I didn't remember jumping into the largest of the holes. I'd love to not recall breaststroking through its walls. I mean, I guess I did manage to move a lot of dirt. But I could swear Skellywise's eyes dimmed more, each time I swam through a sheer wall of landmass.

I suppose it's better to do as I did in life. Let it fade away. I perform my teeth clacking technique of self-derision. I climb out of my excavated abode, and find the Skellys Three to be...sleeping. Brainless and Vainjaw are both laying at the bottom of their own dug-outs. Skellywise, though, I find laying at the edge of my renovated pit. This person must've lived long. Looking closer, I notice this one is quite a bit shorter than the rest of us. The hips look weirdly curved, probably was crippled by age. Hmm, he also has a pretty pointy chin compared to the other two; I'd bet he was a noble. It'd make sense for a learned noble to be the sensible skeleton. Since everyone has gone into some form of inaction, I recall wanting to check out the far-side of this abode.

Before going on a short adventure, I decide to check the rest of my senses. I grab a stray beetle, and pop it into my mouth. Taste is a no. Cramming my face with extra gusto, does not unveil any meager amount of smell. I finish my self-testing and head toward the leftmost crevice, that I wished to explore earlier. I wrap a fresh couple of plants around my limbs, along the way. Even though the place is indeed brighter now, I have no idea, if this will hold true in there. The breach is wide enough for two of me to squeeze in side-by-side. I'm forced to drop downward to even enter the crevice, as its floor isn't level with the rest of the room. After entering, I notice I can still reach the ceiling, if only barely. I'd doubt the upper boundary matters, anyway.

My journey is accompanied by more light than I could've hoped. Creeping figs and a variety of toadstools speckle the path in a dazzling manner. Beetles, worms, flies, and other creatures of decay bring contrasting splashes of color to my exploration. The path grows wider over certain stretches, and there are occasional divots in the wall. The tunnel of sights even lures me into false turns a few times, with a few dead-end pathways. I travel for, maybe, a passis on this uneven terrain before reaching a narrow right-turn.

Just a short trek later, I reach a rock-littered, raised opening. This stetch of path is bathed in the entryway's malachite-green. The color dances in all-manner of shades alongside the rocks populace. The extra-large butterflies are the perpetrators of the beautifully cast shadows. As they flitter about to-and-fro, I am enchanted by the harmonic display. I carefully, traverse the misshapen boulders and grab onto the passage's ledge.

The first thing I notice upon getting to my feet, is the humongous, orange-spotted toadstool towering over me. Surrounding the fungal behemoth is a plain of teal-striped, white fescue grass and a fairy ring. Is it windy? Nah, that can't be right. The toadstool slightly squishes upon itself, every few flicker, as if it's breathing. That motion, proceeds to cause a current of air to bring an alluring liveliness to the local scene.

I exit the pull of such splendor, to further spread my gaze throughout the room. Spiders hide upon a weathered tree of fruit-bearing, vibrant snakes weave between the knee-high grasses, but a foulness draws me away from these attractions. Ghouls.

Not only do I finally notice the presence of the ghouls, but zombies and unknown skeletons are in my view. They blend into the scenery more easily, than I'm comfortable admitting. It won't be enough to stop me, though. Such a plague, has never graced this world. I reach for my blade. I have to stop it here. My hand grabs nothing.

I stand in place, staring at the group of skeletons performing renovation actions. I watch the ugly ghouls, as some crouch and eat captured snakes. Others pursue their own meals on all fours. The repulsive things' skin grants viewers the vision of a bag being pulled, as tightly as possible around its inhabitant. The zombies aimlessly drift about the territory and try to bite anything within arm's reach. The wretched things are bloated and full of filth. As I recall, they have a penchant for proving it to the ill-informed. My brethren.

My disgust dissipates, but I don't gain any sense of comaraderie with these creatures. None of the undead seem wary of my presence. I travel past the zombies and ghouls without even the slightest acknowledgement from either side occurring. With my reasoning returning, I notice none of the undead possess the weird glow, that surrounds most things. I take note of the intrigue, and proceed to move amongst my fleshless kin.

There are twelve of them. Some, momentarily, halt any action and exchange a fit of uninformative gazing with me. Most have blue pupils enshrouded by the unending abyss. A longer greeting is shared between me and the two with fierce, green eyes. All of my new bone friends return to their previous actions, without displaying any more interest in me. I follow behind the two uncommon skeletons, as they return to their duty.

I figured they were more like Skellywise, when I decided to follow them. During our silent procession, I've begun to wonder if the colored-pupils have any meaning, at all. The two of them slip into snake burrows multiple times. They don't travel over or around gathered rocky formations. Instead, these upper class comrades of mine try to traverse in between the large rocks. Wrists snap off, feet fracture, entire arms get lodged between spaces, and none of it slows them. Once they finish their horrible pathfinding, and I drop from one of the towering rocks; I'm forced to question myself.

The lost pieces bit-by-bit restore themselves in less than a pass, after we overcame the obstruction. Am I doing the undead thing wrong? I almost could believe their bones are marginally thicker, now. I watch, as one gets its head knocked off by a tree branch. Nah. Anyhow, we shortly arrive at our likely destination.

A sparkling, gold pond sits in the middle of a clearing. Three violet funnel shrooms provide a wonderful canopy, although I'm the only one enjoying the comfort. Hyacinths highlight the area with their presence. The other two, without pause, walk straight into the water. I quickly follow, and witness an unexpected sight. My new friends are being ripped apart by vicious little fish. They don't even seem able to struggle against the onslaught.

Rustic oranges and ephemeral silvers dart around, over, and between my comrades at barely discernible speeds. I'm not the kind of man to just watch the helpless be bullied. I float over towards the two. It is probably more qualified to be called well-aimed sinking, but I won't admit to it. There was a time in life, where I was considered among the strongest, right. It's about time I get to see how much I can do now.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

First, my left leg cracks. I respond with a right-legged kick, and the right side of my face goes missing. I fail to counter, as a few ribs vanish into munching teeth. I look away from my predators, and realize I couldn't even provide a distraction. The two possess so little of their bodies, that they've begun sinking much more rapidly. They aren't being attacked nearly, as aggresively at this point. Casually observing their fall, I'm surprised by my lack of fear. I see another blur headed towards me. I clench my right fist. We've at least got to take a pound of flesh, in return don't we? I feel more familiar with its movements. I track it well this time, Now!

I blackout.

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I didnt...die? I'm...at the bottom of the pond? I try to stand. My line of sight isn't raising, so I crane my neck to look at my lower body. Well, seems I don't need all my limbs for consciousness. Several ribs are still missing, and I only have half my right leg.

"Safe now. Dig here," the annoying voice arrives.

I ignore the voice's nonsense and wade through the elodeas to the ponds border. I lean against the wall and decide to wait for my legs to repair. My eyes follow the fish circling above. I flex my fingers and clench my fists, constantly. I try to imagine the last punch I threw. It's easy summoning the vision of how it agilely swerved around my attack. One moment, my knuckles were about to replace its visual organs, and the next moment teeth were ripping through my neck. I try to imagine myself moving quicker.

I thrust my fist forward. Once, twice, a fourth, the ninth...with each following blow, I become more acclimated to my body. Eventually, I come down from my elevated focus. My legs are whole, once more. I stand and wonder just how I'm going to get out of here.

"Dig," the voice urges me.

I have complete certainty, that I'm not the one shoving my hands into this seawall. Flexing more strength than I believe I possess, my body makes thorough progress into the mass. My body exits, after only digging a short distance. It then continues to dig out several similar indentions, nearby. After diligently walking across the floor bed, and creating plenty more of these hideaways; my body sits down.

Torpor sublimates my consciousness.

"Dig," the command arrives again.

I hadn't even gained enough awareness to fight against the unnatural exhorter. My body returns to its previous works and expands the tunnels further. I try to wrest control of myself, but the effort proves fruitless. This body of mine, however, has much more success in its endeavor. The holes become both wider and deeper. They expand higher and even begin to intersect with one another. I feel like I'm watching the creation of an ant farm, but from the unique perspective of the ant.

The work finishes, when one of the holes breaches the surface. Under no control of my own, I climb out and begin covering the gouge. Wow! In the length of time that I've been underwater, the scenery has changed quite a bit. Authority over my actions returns to me, after I place a few of the smaller toadstools on top of the mound. I don't immediately jump for joy, but continue to watch the evolution of the surroundings for a while.

A large hill resides on an inlet, that almost reaches the middle of the water. Colorful stones and pebbles line the perimeter of the pool. The ground surrounding the area appears to still be under constructive influence. Sinkholes form at seemingly random spots nearby. Water, soon, spouts forth from these new openings, and I can imagine the pond's perimeter increasing. As I turn to leave, a hand noisily breaks the water's surface.

Half a body of one my formerly dead comrades, now, lies along the edge of the pond. I'm still surprised, that it managed to climb up in this condition. I look at it. It looks at me. I clack my teeth, repetitively. It watches me with something, that had it been human, I'd have called awe. After the brief scrutiny, it joins me in teeth clacking. I throw my head back and continue my obnoxious laugh.

I lift Salmos and take him with me, as I plan to drop him off with the others. Thinking of my newly named companion, amuses me. If this body could smile, I'd surely, not wear a frown. He almost seemed quite smart. I'd say he nearly completed his task, although he more certainly, almost lost his life. My friend hasn't even managed to fully recover, yet. Hehe. I guess a full glass is too much for him. He's a light-weight. Hehe. My imitation laugh shares itself with the dense woods. If I hadn't seen how quickly the pond was changing, I'd believe I was lost. There is so much more wildlife, now, than when we passed through earlier.

We, finally, return amongst the undead infested territory. A narrow river, now, weaves its way throughout most of the area. Lots of eyes cast a quick glance in our direction. Overwhelming. I'd have guessed there were about fifteen ghouls, before. That paltry group has become an intimidating populace of more than fifty, now. A scattering of newly formed hillocks, overshadows the presence of zombies. The groups seem more sensitive to my presence than earlier, but they reveal no interference to my passing.

I can't be amazed at the progress of my boney buddies. There are now two more cavern-openings, and a disorderly mix of holes mucking the path. Yeah. They've worked hard. Although, they would never know that. Many of them appear to be doing the dormant thing at the moment. I'd love to have arrived and been considerate of their rest. No. Something much more disturbing has ruined my return. The community of skeletons has definitely increased, but I'm certain that thirty isn't an appropriate number. Bones are scattered all over.

I can't understand this. One of those bloated abominations is trying to snake-throat one of the mindless skeletons. Its jaw has to be dislocated, I hatefully realize, as it tries to envelop the supine meal, beginning with its skull. I spot a few ghouls skulking through the area. Some drag the inert bones away and begin devouring. Others choose to burst forward with predatorial intensity and begin gnawing at the bones on the spot.

Just why aren't they fighting back? During my state of disbelief, the bone inhabitants have become twenty-five. Eh? Something is missing from my peripheral. Salmos! I turn to find a ghoul munching away at his hips. Two others appear from behind the tree, nearby the thief. They join the vermin, feasting on the spoils of my inattention. My feet carried me in front of them, during my situational observation.

I launch a kick at the one munching on Salmos' left shoulder. Uhn! Strong. I can't free my leg from this thing's grip. A single, scrawny hand's grip is stopping me. Unacceptable. Um, body. Hellooo! I'd like to jump, if you'd be so kind. I've overestimated myself, again. My body refuses to bounce off one leg, and bending forward is almost equally impossible.

This...this is how it ends? Overpowered by a worthless ghoul? No!

With my right arm, I tear my left from my shoulder. Fortunately, I have bent over, just enough, for my new weapon to wreak havoc. I swing at its face. It yanks me forward. The creature's head turns toward my arm-cum-club, and ferociously bites down on it. I let go and use the momentum to deliver an extra-quick jab to the thing's throat.

It hacks far more saliva than natural upon receiving my blow, and my leg is freed. Before the little monster can regain its composure, I grasp its head and ensure my rising knee won't be dodged. Impact! A mix of yellow and green fluids spill forth. That's nasty. I believe he needs more. The fourth round knocks him free from my clutch. His nose is caved in and his lower jaw hangs by his neck.

Salmos takes immediate advantage of my assistance. With his freed arm, he deliver's a finger stab into eyes of his hip-muncher. It backs away in agony, but its hands tear away a large chunk of my comrade's body. He's barely holding together with his assembly of half a sternum, a few ribs, a pair of gouged arms, and a cracked skull. Hmm? He's glowing slightly. He lifts his right arm, once more, and while tilting off balance; he delivers a savage hammer-fist to the reeling ghoul. It doesn't sit well with me, that the third ghoul simply retreated with a handfull of ribs. Still, job well-done Salmos. I'm pretty sure it'll be hard for him to upright himself, but I'll take care of the rest.

The hammer-fist victim looks far less harmed than I imagined.

"Salmos, buddy, about me taking care of the rest. Could I, shamefully ask you to hold out for a few more flicker? No, that's too much to ask?" My quick thinking doesn't provide anything substantial. My skull rocks up-and-down rapidly, "Indeed, friend. To become a champion, one must carry a champion's burden."

With my vision bouncing uncontrollably, I charge at Hardhead. Whilst mid-air, leaping onto Salmos; Hardhead stabs his jagged nails into the ground and spins his body toward me. Yeah, um, he doesn't appear injured at all. He swiftly arrives in front of me. His posture proves a superior stance, as I miss my downward swing. He goes for a tackle, but I surprisingly shut the attempt down with a sidestep. While he's off balance, I bring a kick towards his chest. Rather than trying to correct his posture, Hardhead flexes more of his nimble repertoire. His falling stance transforms into a flip over of my would-be kick.

Our fight is interrupted. Not him though, just me. Hangmouth has gotten ahold of my back. His sharp feet are shoving at my pelvis, and his hands are heaving at my upper body. These things are better fighters, than I'd have ever imagined. This bastard is trying to pull me in half, isn't he? Hardhead doesn't miss the opportunity. Seriously, this guy is trying to hard. His leg veins pulse, as he leaps with all the power of a wild animal. He's not jumping over or onto me. No. His bent-back, left leg springs forth and ends my right-eyes vision.

Thankfully, Hangmouth's mission doesn't gain equivalent success. He does manage to bring me to the ground, though. I swing my arm wildy at my opponents. I'm certain, I've been taught better than this. Sometimes, learning just proves inapplicable. By favor of fortune, I manage to get a hold of Hangmouth's arm. I lift him over my head, and slam him next to me. With Hardhead clinging under my ribs and biting at my sternum; I roll over and bring my elbow upon his seemingly concussed ally.

What a beast!? As soon as that final blow terminated Hangmouth's role in this scrap, Hardhead released me and took a low stance, once more. I size up the monster. His bruised skin is hairless and more of a sickly blue than his muddy-gray kin. He isn't as thin as most of his kind I've witnessed, but that only grants him a slightly less ugliness than his peers. The maiming-designed teeth are too large for his mouth. It perpetually looks, as if, he's stuffed too much food into the cavity; and even had the nerve to chew it all in the frontal area. He dashes forth.

I cut my observation and ready myself. I try to bend my knees, but this body doesn't do anything quickly. I abort the attempt and go with the usual stiff-and-obvious approach. I raise my leg, as high as possible. Well, it's nice to know I can get it waist-high. He's here. Seeing the incoming heel-drop, he halts and deftly circles toward my back. Forearm extended, I spin on my freshly planted floot. He's mid-air. Reach him first!! A tiny window of time appears in which, I see him; he sees me. We both see two zombies taking apart Hangmouth.

Hardhead blocks with one arm and latches onto my elbow with his free hand. A quick pull-up and both his feet support him flipping away from me.

"Just who are you supposed to be?!" I'm absolutely astounded by this opponent.

Noticing that more than eight zombies have gathered around us, Hardhead drops to all fours and quickly maneuvers his way out of this trap. At nearly the same time, I turn and dash to Salmos. Lifting his broken body, I search for an exit from the encroaching poachers. Step-by-step, they amble forth without revealing any obvious openings. The closing encirclement of these wretches is quite intimidating, as each of them is easily twice as large as myself. They barely resemble humanity with their sunken eyes, multi-layered rolls of fat, and heads that resemble creatures of croaking. Warts plague their greenish body and some type of disgusting leaks from all faucets, constantly. I turn and run to the closest tree.

My hand loses grip twice, but manages to pierce and launch me up the hardy wood on my third attempt. While lowering my head to check on my pursuers, I notice the ends are missing from my three longest fingers. No time to rest, though. The swarm is within reaching distance, just as soon as I make it onto the lowest branch. Or maybe I can afford rest. No coordinated rattling of my safety begins. I spot no enemies seeking to follow me up the wood. Instead, all of them are just bumping into each other and the tree with negligible force.

I take a non-existent breath. Mistake. I become the passenger, once more. I ride along as I, well...go nowhere. At least go higher up the tree, please. Watching as the number of zombies of fluctuate, from anywhere between two and thirty-one further exacerbates my mood. During my exciting view of unmoving diligence, my body completely recovers.

Even Salmos, climbs off of me with his recovered body. The son of ingratitude, then nonchalantly escapes on his own, during one of the low-count tides. I keep note, that two of his ribs didn't grow back, completely. Long lasts my stupor, until to my horror; this theater is interrupted by an excessively hardworker.

A much more greenish-purple variant of the zombies arrives, and after bustling his way through the crowd; he begins devouring the tree. Devour is indeed an accurate account of his action, as this freak has somehow learned to unhinge his jaw enough to take massive chunks out of would-be prey. Are you starving? Is wood some type of dietary snack? Apparently, he's a lazy eater. He actually lays on his side and begins consuming my saviour even quicker. Then I spot an impossible gleam in Solidpuke's eyes, once he begins eyeing me, whilst chewing. I'm thoroughly over the edge, now. I'd clack my jaws in maniacal laughter, if I was fortunate enough to have control in this time of madness.

Once I'm well within reaching distance of Solidpuke, he halts his crazed fiber diet and grabs my leg. Snatched from the tree, my vision follows along a daze-inducing, crescent ark, as I'm slammed into the ground. I think I was just slammed hard enough to richochet back onto my feet. If I weren't the bystanding-participant to this carnage, I might feel impressed by the display. I'm absolutely livid. In that same instant, my eyes don't stop at a vertical view; they continue onward to nose-distance with Solidpuke's face.

I'm further surprised to witness my fingers piercing deep into each of the monster's eye sockets. My hands turn sideways and rip outward. An explosion of gore follows, and Solidpuke drops to his knees. The nearly dead abomination begins expanding, but its bloating ceases, after my hand delivers a crunchy hammerfist through its skull. The other gathered monsters, encroach with their usual leisurely pace. I think one reached out for me, but my vision darted low and away to quickly for me to be sure. I do manage to catch sight of all of my fingers connecting side-by-side.

With the poor man's straight edge, my arm thrusts into the massive gut in front of me. The hole is stretched open by my arm, and my other quickly enters the belly, as well. Suddenly, my vision is clotted with viscera. Surely, I didn't just climb inside this thing. I am proven incorrect, when my head looks down upon the surrounding gang. Instead of my boney body, I only find layers of grotesque skin beneath me, and the body's likely former upper pieces. Soiled meat falls to reveal my shoulders, as my body lifts us out of the repulsive residence.

Another flabby arm approaches, and my vision turns parallel with the reach. I see one of my hands take the wrist and the other clasps near the elbow. My knee brutally arrives in the scene, contorting the arm into a inoperable bend. Hmm, the broken arm is somehow creating distance. An abrupt turn reveals, I was being pulled away. My vision drops just before, I complete the 180. I see my outstretched leg sweeping the interposer. The monster falls, and soon my elbow is crushing its head.

The dominance continues, and quite quickly only I stand among the lifeless. On a slope, relatively close-by, I spot a zombie, that sends chills through my psyche. Massive doesn't even begin to describe its girth. Legs possessing even more width than the body create a grisly sight of rolls-on-rolls. The arms are long, droopy masses, that I'm quite confident could reach the ground, as it walks. It displays no aggression towards me, but watching it swallow the bottom half of a member of its brethren; unsettles me.

I was unsettled by the zombie, I am outright disturbed by the ghoul on another of the tiny hills. His scrawny frame pulses with muscle, his posture is more upright, and his skin still retains some paleness of flesh. The truly horrific thing, though, are the dual bone spears in his hands.

Stepping back in fear, I don't even realize I've recovered control, during the stare-down. I do notice the buzzing in my mind, seems desperate to spew its rampant nonsense, with greater vigor.

"Claim place! Assert authority! Show what you got!" The repetitive garbage of the annoying voice breaches my mental wall.

"I hate this place," I decide, as I turn to run.