An orange beam of morning light shone through the ragged brown curtains. Ryder dunked his face into the cloudy water basin, put on his new garments, and heard two loud thumps at the door.
Durge leaned against the wall and glared at him in his usual grumbly morning expression.
“How do I look?” Ryder asked, showing off his green tunic, brown vest, and black pants.
“Spiffy as ever, Sir Scholar. Come on.”
Ryder attached his sheathe to his belt, strung his satchel over his shoulder, grabbed his bow, and walked through the inn’s halls. “We’re going out again, Skel! We know not when we’re coming back!” A faint and incoherent grumble about the ‘room keys’ were heard from the far side of the establishment.
With the clatter of metal against the counter, the front door swung wide, and the duo made their way to the Guild Hall. Shops were open and hundreds of commonfolk crowded the streets. Pushing past the eager adventurers blocking the entrance, they found a large crowd at the front desk with the familiar stranger off to the side.
“Everyone make a fucking line!” an older orc harked. The many adventurers that accepted the quest were being processed and signed onto the job by Rose and another clerk while the party leader stared at her scribbles into the great ledger.
“Suppose we’re waiting in line,” Durge said.
“Suppose so,” Ryder sighed.
Durge persuaded the scaly barkeep to give him an early tankard of stale ale while the line inched forward. Adventurers from all ranks joined the quest, except for the Glorious who peered at them all from their balcony, Catwood being among them. Ryder looked above and waved at the Gold-Rank. Catwood responded with a respectful bow toward the Potion-Giver, took a swig from his goblet, and flung the last few drops of wine over the railing before disappearing from the edge.
The duo moved closer to the front and the party leader noticed them, he gave a quick smile and nod before looking back at Rose’s writings.
“What’s the quest?” Ryder asked with a dry nervous laugh.
The party leader smirked, “Nothing you can’t handle, Potion-Giver.” He slapped Ryder’s arm and ushered him forward to be signed up.
“Name?” Rose asked.
“Emperor Pallingratz and his little squire boy,” Durge confidently said.
The clerk rose up, recognizing the dopey voice. “You two again, huh? Be careful of this one, boys, plenty of monsters on this quest.”
“What are we getting into, Rose?” Ryder whispered.
“You’re going south and it’s Iron-Ranked,” she whispered. “And don’t forget these on your travels!” she exclaimed in a cheery voice, handing two talc dog tags. “Happy Slaying and fare— Durge! I swear to the Family if you leave this building with that tankard I’m deducting your pay!”
Durge chugged the stale ale, and with a smug face, he set the mug on the floor.
“Suppose we’re waiting now,” Durge belched.
“Suppose so,” Ryder said, his thoughts racing while he felt his new dog tag. An iron slaying quest? I’m astonished Rose didn’t deny us for being so low-ranked. But with the dozens of people joining us, it mustn’t be that bad. But what if Durge was right and we’re only fodder for a—
“Group up, maggots and mutts!” the old orc yelled. “Fike has announcements!”
The strange man stepped onto a wooden crate, “Thank you, Willis. Now I know you’ve all joined this expedition without the knowledge of where we are heading or what we are slaying. But I have no doubt in my mind any of us will fail! All 18 of you have been specifically chosen by Willis and I because we recognize your talents, your abilities, and your strength. For I need each of you to follow me into battle! So follow me, my companions! Follow me to put an end to attacks in the south! Follow me to Locria! Follow me to destroy the deathless corpses that wander the nearby forests!”
The 18 other adventurers cheered for their leader while Ryder and Durge stood there stunned and staggered at the mention of their fallen home. Tales of wandering corpses made the duo suspicious, but they knew well enough where they must’ve originated.
“Reports have said they’re a day away! Overmorrow each of us shall slay the corpses that haunt the realm and clutch 20 shimmering gold in our palms when we return!” Fike exclaimed. “Now let us be off!” dozens of adventurers began the march to Locria while Fike and Willis mounted horses, trotting along the red road.
“Do they realize how hard it is to kill a corpse?” Durge grumbled.
Ryder was stuck in his mind, unfocused, while the group marched forward. “20 adventurers with 20 coins each.”
“The reward must be 4,000 gold in total,” Durge guessed.
Ryder snapped back to reality, “It’s 400, you oaf.”
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Durge stuck his foot in front of Ryder, causing the noble snob to trip.
The summer sun rose high in the sky. No clouds. No breeze. Banners of rival factions from long ago lay limp as they walked south. Over half of the party wore some shade of green or black while the other half wore a mish-mash of brown or white cloth. Most wore light cloaks and minimal armor, only equipped to protect from the sun and strikes to the chest or joints.
“Lot of us must be low-ranked,” Ryder said.
“I know not if I’d rather have high-ranks that throw us to the side or low-ranks that are too inexperienced,” Durge said.
“Our party leaders seem the most prepared to slay something. Have you seen Willis’ war hammer?”
“Have you seen Fike’s crossbow? Looks mighty powerful.”
Other adventurers were armed with the basic swords, shields, and mauls, while three others were seen with obvious magical amplifiers. Nine humans, five orcs, two sea elves, one stone elf, two dwarves, and a lonely starora. Durge was curious about the solitary “infernal” but did not approach the man. The elves and dwarves kept to opposite sides of the road, passing glares, scoffs, and spit at one another.
As night neared and the order from Fike to rest came, each species camped near their own. The orcs braved the element while the humans set up lean-to tents, and the dwarves and elves held a competition on who could be the most comfortable: covered hammocks from the elves versus dome tents filled with furs from the dwarves.
Willis visited each encampment, checking on every party member and dishing out small cups of soup and bread if an adventurer didn’t bring any provisions. Fike fell to slumber away from the others in his enclosed tent.
The orc offered bread to the duo as they set up their tents. “Can’t fight on an empty stomach!” he exclaimed.
Durge eagerly took the bread, “Anything beats breaking teeth on hardtack.”
Willis laughed, “I can agree to that, chipped a tusk on one of the damn things before! Fortunately it grew back fine ‘nough.”
“What’s your name again, orc?”
The orc shook his head and looked downtrodden, “Apologies, but I’m broke… but you can call me coinless!” he awaited a laugh but Ryder and Durge only looked confused. “Eh, I jest. I’m Willis, Fike’s right-hand man… orc.”
“How long have you adventured with him?” Ryder asked.
Willis stroked the white wisps on his chin, “A year I’d say. He’s a strong leader. Fike has some stints of harshness but he knows what must be done. Don’t fuck up, do your job, and get paid. Right?”
The duo nodded their heads and Willis left with a tusk-toothed smile. Ryder’s small campfire dwindled on the half-moon night. They were ready to stomp it out and head to bed until one of their party member’s approached. A skinny human with ragged clothes and wood armor was asking for the Potion-Giver.
“Aye, I’m him,” Ryder said.
The man grew wide-eyed with a smile, “Oh, do you have any to give? I’m looking for a red so me and my friend have a little bit of protection in the coming days. The Family knows we should’ve prepared better,” he chuckled.
Ryder sighed and peeped in his satchel, “I apologize, friend, but we only have two for ourselves.”
The man’s face turned dour in an instant, steely and stern.
“Don’t fret. There's 20 of us to protect one another,” Ryder grinned.
He walked off and the duo continued to ready for bed under the sea of stars.
“Get up maggots! We must make haste!” Willis spewed. Light from the east scarcely glimmered its yellow rays over the mountains before the 20 of them marched down the Roadmaker’s creation. Another full day of cloudless blue above with heatwaves in the horizon.
As Fike rode ahead, Willis stuck behind to herd the party forward. After five horizons of walking, Fike bellowed a cheer and galloped his horse ahead, the rest of the party jogged ahead to see two shambling figures in the distance. With the crossbow drawn, his eye down the rear sight, and a finger on the trigger, he let loose a steel bolt that ripped through the husk’s skull. The other undead dwarf reached for Fike but was trampled by the steed. Its fragile body smeared into the red road like ink on parchment.
Everyone cheered as Fike gallantly trotted back, his white horse’s hooves stained red.
He raised his crossbow in the air, “This is just the beginning, men! The more we march, the more of these corpses we will find! Let us guide them back to their graves with arrows and steel!” Fike galloped while the party sprinted to catch up to him.
“Fuck. He barely gives us a break,” Durge huffed.
“Better keep up before we get trampled by Willis,” Ryder said.
They ran for two horizons until more of the undead were spotted. Fike pulled taut on his reins and allowed the rest of the party to charge into the foes. Seven husks were battered, torn, and stomped upon before the pair could join the fray. Willis caved the last one’s head in with his hammer.
A rest was expected after the fight since the orange dawn approached, but Fike insisted for the adventurers to continue on. He split the party into two groups, one half to cover the west side of the road and comb the surrounding woods while the other half would scour the east. Willis led the west, accompanied by Ryder, Durge, a sea elf mage, the man who asked for a potion, two orcs, two more humans, and the starora.
“Oh, Cully Woods, how I missed you,” Durge said, feeling the copperwood trees.
Ryder snickered, “Better watch your step now, might lose a boot again.”
Durge scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I can’t fathom us returning to Locria.”
“I’m not expecting for any of it to still be there. Fires, storms, lootings, and now those husks from Rock Hollow. It’ll be flattened when we arrive.”
Willis walked the edge of the tree line, leading his horse with one hand while the other held his weapon. “Hush up, mutts! It’ll be dark, light torches if you got ‘em. Keep eyes and ears aware. Slay any that you see! We rest once we reach the other side of the woods!”
Durge and Ryder sighed exasperatedly, the only ones who knew that it would take a full night of travel to reach the road once again. Each member carried a torch except for Willis, the mage, and the starora. The dense forest radiated with smoke and fire as the party combed through underbrush, chopping away twigs, and getting frightened by flickering shadows.
Ryder noticed the east side of the forest shone like the lighthouses on the coast of the Gulf of Gold. Distant clashes were heard and the cheers of Fike and his men cascaded from the surrounding timber. Willis grew envious and ushered his party to move faster. While they scouted the black edge of the woods, a skeletal hand grasped one of the orc party member’s ankles and pulled her to the ground.
A legless rotten elf shoved the orc to the dirt and skewered her repeatedly with their sharp skeletal hands. Through the screams and dense underbrush, Willis shattered the undead’s skull. The orc’s blood soaked into the brown dirt as she gasped for her final breath from her punctured lungs.
Willis, Durge, and the rest of the party surrounded the bodies. They saw how deadly the undead were, stopping at nothing in their brutality until the soul left their target’s mortal prison.
“We must keep on guard. Do not let them take hold of you. Strike swift,” Willis said.
A shout from the woods drew their attention. A single stick of light came sprinting toward them, “More ahead! More ahead!” Ryder exclaimed. What followed him were dozens of corpses approaching from the outer darkness, revealing their wretched flesh and soulless eyes as they shambled into the dim torchlight.