Zach wasn’t much of a fan of fighting the Undead. Most of the fun from a good scrap came from bloodying your knuckles on someone whose brains wouldn’t explode all over your jacket. The living tended to bite less too, at least in his experience. The other thing was that Ghouls tended to have a rather distinct smell of rot which had a rather annoying tendency to hang around on your clothes. Not something the lovely ladies of the docks appreciated.
Zach didn’t find himself aiming for the face as much these days. It was a hell of a lot more satisfying to use his blade on his target's neck, slicing it through the muscles from behind and watching his foe drop, choking on his own blood. There was something all the more pleasing about that desperate gurgling sound they’d make as they slowly bled to death.
Even that was ruined on Ghouls though. The damn things were slow, shambling, and stupid. Not capable of appreciating a good takedown.
The two Ghouls currently in front of him were focused more on his companions. That was the joy of this particular trick of his. A quick veil of shadows was enough to trick a Ghoul's shite senses, even if they weren’t completely distracted. Hells, they hadn’t even realized that he’d gotten close enough to practically taste the damned Undead’s foul odor.
Letting the swirling shadows that hid his form away drop off, Zach brought one of his daggers up silently and thrust it straight into the first Ghoul’s ear canal, plunging the blade deep into what was left of its brain. The creature immediately dropped to the ground bonelessly and Zach was able to close the distance on the Ghoul’s mate in a matter of seconds.
Calmly palming a second dagger, he plunged it swiftly through the beast’s open mouth, up through its palate, and hit the brain once more. It was a risk, of course, aiming for such a dangerous spot on a beast known for their bites, but the creature had been mid roar, screaming at the sight of Ornn trudging into their midst.
That was the magic of teamwork, he supposed. His moves with his daggers were a fucking work of art, naturally, and with a proper distraction, it was near child play. Carefully avoiding the spray of fetid blood that erupted from the Ghoul’s mouth, Zach watched the Ghoul join its buddy on the cobblestone street, dead. Well, more dead, he supposed.
Zach retrieved his daggers from the corpses, briefly reveling in the satisfying squelching noise as he pulled each one out. He wiped them clean on one of the Ghoul’s rags and, checking to make sure that his jacket was pristine, he turned his attention onto his companions.
Winnie and Ornn were charging forward through the main group, Ornn sending Ghouls flying left and right, their fragile necks snapping as they landed, rag-doll-like, on the ground. Winnie was hurling her fists left, right, and center, swiftly taking care of the ones that Ornn missed. The two worked well together, which was honestly surprising for a dumb rock creature and a hot-headed pit fighter. Maybe he’d been wrong about Winnie. She was proving to be quite useful.
He watched as Skrakch finished off the last of the outer Ghouls. The Ratling was clumsy as best, nowhere near his finesse at slaughter. Squeakers was the bookworm of their little group, hardly made for hand-to-hand combat. Still, his grasp on the arcane kept him useful, and the vermin was nearly as quiet as himself when it came to stealth.
“Alright Squeakers?” Zach greeted as he strutted over to him. “I was expecting more Undead than this, kinda disappointing.”
The Ratling ignored him for a moment, instead, he seemed focused on collecting some of the dead Ghoul’s saliva. He pulled a small vial from his bandolier and filled it, raising it to the moonlight and studying it for a moment before stowing it away. Zach didn’t even want to know, though no doubt Squeakers was collecting it for another daft potion of his.
Skrakch didn’t volunteer the information, but Zach was well aware that the Ratling was on good terms with someone in the Alchemist’s Guild. Why else would the rodent be so keen on collecting random items, squirreling them away for later use?
Hells, Zach had originally assumed Skrakch was making the potions himself until he learned how long it took to even become an apprentice of the art of Alchemy. The craft required years of dedication, years Skrakch simply didn’t have, what with the pitiful lifespan of the average Iskrin.
“Aww, is it your first time out here Zacharias?” Skrakch sneered, grabbing the musing Halfling’s attention. “It’s not so bad this close to the Wall. The Tomb-Makers shoot down any Undead that ventures too close to the city. Plus, it’s still the middle of the night. We’d be long dead if it was still light out.”
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“Why’s that? They all come out to do their shopping or summat?” Zach replied with a snort. The rat was too clever for his liking. The little fucker always had been. He seemed to think his time wasted on books made him better than those out there living life. Consequently, it made him a bit of a know-it-all bastard, but so long as he was useful… Zach would leave it be. For now of course.
“Ghouls and Zombies hunt based on their senses, so the dim light keeps them from acting up too much.” Skrakch continued, ignoring Zach’s sarcasm and the fighting going on behind them. “Once the sun comes out though, all bets are off. The damned things attack anything that moves, including each other. Then as night falls, they tend to recuperate, absorbing the Necromantic Energy to heal.”
“And I asked for the impromptu biology lesson when?” Zach spat, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“It’s why no one has cleared them out yet-”
“Ah shit there’s more…”
“You’d think some greedy Lordling would push to reclaim this part of the City, but there’s little you can do against endless hordes of Undead.” Skrakch spat to the side, glaring around the destroyed city streets. “The only ones with the power to do anything about it are the Tomb-Makers, but Gods Below know they aren’t keen on the idea.”
“Politics innit,” Zach shrugged. “And besides, all these Undead fuckers keep the people in the City under control. Pretty genius when you think about it,” He continued watching Winifred pull the jaw off a ghoul, before smashing its legs and tossing it aside. “If you’ve got a whole City that are shit scared shitless of what’s just outside the walls, you’re not gonna have an uprising on your hands-”
“Exactly!” Skrakch said with enthusiasm. “And that’s how they make people think the Tomb Makers are a good idea! Because they keep the City safe and people are too scared to revolt against them and the Undead. It’s way too much for-”
“Squeakers, Squeakers,” Zach waved a hand dismissively. “You just agreed with me on something and honestly mate, it’s making me feel a bit sick so how about we just get our eyes back on the prize and never speak of this again?”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, Skrakch’s gaze affixed with a scowl and Zach grinning his damn perpetual smirk.
“We’re looking for a large mausoleum, right?” Skrakch cleared his throat, and focused on the here and now. “There’s only one mausoleum in the area according to my research, belonged to some bigwigs back in the day. Lionheart’s or some shit, just a bunch of rich folk who thought themselves too good for just lying in the dirt like us. So hopefully it’s the one we’re looking for,” He paused to side-eye Zach.
“Thankfully, the area ought to be clear for now,” He continued. “If there were any more of the Undead in the area, they’d be on us after hearing all that noise.” He tossed a paw in the direction of the ongoing melee between Winnie, Ornn, and the remaining Ghouls.
Zach winced slightly as he watched Ornn pull a Ghoul off his back and pulverize it against the cobblestone. That really had to hurt. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right, Squeakers. I gotta admit, good call bringing the little thing and the rock.”
“The Goblin,” Skrakch corrected.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. We’re not sharing the loot with ‘em though right?” Zach continued, cutting to the heart of the matter.
The Ratling made a small choking sound before chortling and shaking his head as though he’d just suggested something ridiculous.
“Gods Below, I barely want to share it with you! The only payment Meek is going to get is with cheese. Goblins don’t have a strong grasp on bartering, much less Ornn. Don’t ask me how Meek tamed the damn thing but it seems happy to follow him around without any kind of reward,” He replied.
Nodding to the fleabag, Zach decided to store that little tidbit of information for later. Maybe it was time to start befriending the little Goblin freak. Who knew what the future held? There could always come a time when he’d need to part ways with the rat and the fighter. If either of them became an issue, it would certainly save him a lot of effort to have the giant rock Golem take care of them. He didn’t know a whole lot about Goblins or whatever the hell Ornn was, but it seemed that they didn’t particularly care for money. He wondered if that extended to loyalty as well…
Of course, he had a handle on the rodent, for now the issue was Winifred. He watched as she walked over to them with a grin on her face, the high of battle not yet fallen off her. He’d never seen someone look so damn pleased to be covered in Ghoul's guts. If there was one thing Zach had learned, it was never to do business with someone you didn’t have a good understanding of.
Skrakch wanted to be a Chosen, he’d made that fact more than bloody obvious, Meek wanted some cheese apparently, but Winifred? She wanted her dose, and for now, that meant working for her favorite dealer. But he’d have to think of something to ensure her loyalty once they had the score of Dragon’s Blood. He didn’t trust her not to split as soon as she had what she wanted. Hell, she might even snitch on him to Sykes. It’s not like there would be anything to stop her.
So maybe it would be best if he took care of the issue more practically. Letting out a low whistle as they kept moving through the empty streets, he had to admit it. He did, after all, miss taking care of a living target.