Ending the D-mise: Initiation Quest for Lucht du Sol

[A Nony Mouse]

Closed.
“Is it really worth it?” Travis Kiltias wondered aloud. It had taken him several days to travel from the coast of Dheathain to the domain of the draconians and now he was debating why he had come. As the leader, or Scison, of Lucht du Sol, he felt obligated to visit any site where there was a powerful artifact. “That needs to change,” he realized. He had other obligations, he couldn’t chase after any lead that came to him. With a sigh, the red-haired explorer decided that he might as well investigate so long as he was here. Mud sucked at his leather boots and insects buzzed about his head, but the traveler pressed on toward the small town of Knocfeln. Twilight began darkening the sky ahead, strengthening his resolve to make it before night fell completely. He didn’t want to be out here when night came.

His steel armor caught the last vestiges of sunlight as it fell through the outstretched skeleton arms of the trees around him, shrouding the world in an unearthly glow. The oranges and reds from the setting sun caught his armor on fire with their light. His links of his steel chainmail clinked together softly as he struggled through the marsh, the city walls now in his sights. Sweat dampened the straps of his Damascus bracers and steel greaves, making them rub uncomfortably against his skin. Not too much further, he told himself.

Within a half an hour, the adventurer arrived at the city limits and introduced himself. The guards seemed surprised to see a traveler so late and they let him in quickly. Everyone who lived in the area knew the perils of traveling after dark. If the draconian countryside was dangerous normally, it became a living hell when the sun went down.

“Where’s the quarantine?” he asked a nearby guard. The heavily armored man pointed to an area of the city and warned Travis of the dangers of entering. Nodding his appreciation, the Scison of Lucht du Sol trudged his way to the border and stopped to look at the inhabitants.

The villagers in the quarantine area looked much like zombies; their skin was flaky and hanging from their frames, their hair had fallen out in chunks, and they reeked of sulfur and decay. Travis gagged, but managed to hold his stomach as a guard came closer. “It’s a sad sight,” the man said woefully. “My brother’s in there somewhere.”

“I’m truly sorry,” Travis responded, putting a hand on the man’s arm. “I’ll do what I can.” The guard nodded and averted his eyes, tears glistening on his cheeks. The red-haired adventurer shook his head, Who would do something like this?

With the horror of recent events fresh in his mind, Travis turned toward the lord’s manor. He’d ask for an audience in the morning, right now he just wanted a room. As darkness took over the sky, forcing the glow of sunset to fade, Travis wondered once again, why am I here?

[Alabane]

Drake ran a hand through his dark hair, and stifled a grin. Beneath his hand lay four playing cards with fifth tilted so he could see it. Carefully looking at the three other players in the tavern, two shady types in cloaks and a bright-eyed youngster, he had to play this right. Stacked between them lay a mound of silver coins, and he was about to up the ante. Finishing his ale in one long draught, he eyed each of them almost hesitantly, taking care to let each of them notice. Finally, he threw out five gold coins, the highest stakes so far.

“Raise.”

The boy groaned in disgust, throwing his cards down and proclaiming he needed to get to sleep anyway. The other two each took a long moment before matching him. Finally able to grin, Drake revealed his cards while shamelessly gloating. “Knights trio, garrisoned with archers. Read them and weep, boys.” With disgusted grunts, the two men stood and grabbed even thicker cloaks on their way out.

The barkeeper ambled over across the empty common room before plopping into a chair opposite drake. “Well, I guess it’s good to see someone coming out ahead these days, even if it’s you.” Looking around, the portly man got a sly look in his eye. “Where this a gambling establishment, custom would be the house took half yer earnings.”

Surprised, Drake wasn’t entirely sure he was serious. Half! In Radasanth you just have to buy the beer. Just in case, he started sorting his coin into two piles with one hand, while gathering cards into an orderly deck with the other. This little earning wasn’t worth a brawl, and he’d have trouble finding anywhere else to sleep. “Business must be pretty slim if you’re making a point of this, but here you go.”

Staring at the pile of silver balefully, the innkeeper proposed the deal he’d thought up earlier. “Listen, I don’t need your money. I need customers. Everyone around here is either too depressed to go drinking, too scared, or lost a week’s work gambling to you. You’ve heard about the…curse, yes? They say it started at Cosain’s Shield, the other inn on the far side of town. At first I thought it was almost good news, took out my competition. Didn’t plan on people thinking my drink would make them into those damned zombie monstrosities too! You’ve got a sword, and the walk says you know how to use it. You gotta help me out.”

Pocketing the cards and coins, Drake shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, despite finally hearing about the very thing that had brought him from across the world. Zombies were precisely why he was here, to eliminate them and their source was the driving force behind his decisions and he’d gladly do so in this place. With an exaggerated yawn, Drake responded to the big man. “I guess I could help you out, but I need someplace to sleep.”

Catching on immediately, the tavern owner responded quickly. “You’ll sleep here, free of charge. As long as it takes.” Seeing Drake’s unimpressed look, he continued. “And free ale.”

Grinning, Drake sent the man for one last ale before he turned in for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

[A Nony Mouse]

“Master Travis Kiltias to see you, milord,” the servant announced to Lord Tetraine. The sickly thin noble nodded his head and the servant turned and opened the wide double doors. They swung silently on greased hinges and Travis strode boldly into the throne room. He bowed low and raised his head ever so slightly. When the lord motioned for him to stand, Travis stepped forward and approached the dais.

“Lord Tetraine,” he began, “allow me first to thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.” The nobleman nodded, his blue eyes devoid of emotion. “I received word that an artifact was involved?” The man on the throne stared vacantly into the air just above his visitor’s head and Travis waited several moments before clearing his throat and trying again. “Sire? There was mention of an artifact?”

“It is lost,” came the reply as Travis finished speaking. “It was here and then it was not. I know not where it is now.” The red-haired adventurer grimaced. This news certainly complicated things, but there was still hope.

“Do you recall what it looked like? What material it was crafted from?” the Scison of Lucht du Sol inquired.

“My scribes likely have a recording of its details and specifics, feel free to ask them,” Tetraine replied. Travis bowed low once more and then turned before striding quickly out of the throne room. He needed to find that artifact and determine how it operated. If it was indeed the source of the plague that had infected the town of Knocfeln, he needed to work quickly. First, he had to find a scribe.

“Find me a scribe, please,” he instructed the servant walking next to him. The man nodded and took off down a corridor, the mazelike interior of the manor confused any who did not travel it on a regular basis. Travis was glad to have help locating what he needed; on his own it would have taken triple the time.

When he arrived back in the entrance hall, he took a seat on a bench to wait for the servant to return with one of Lord Tetraine’s scribes. Hopefully the man would be of some help and then Travis could be on his way. Nothing is ever that easy, he reminded himself. Sighing, all he could do was wait.

[Alabane]

Rising early, Drake took the time to check the blade on his scimitar, smoothing out the cutting edge with a soft stone from his pack. From the sounds of it, many of the villagers had been converted to rotting zombies and would need cut down. Best to be done with that nasty work quickly, no time for a blunt edge. Content that his gear was in order, Drake ambled down the stairs to the common room just as the sun peaked over the horizon.

“I’ve heard there’s a man over at lord’s manor that’s here to help.” The innkeeper suggested, watching his only customer head for the door.

“Thanks for the head’s up,” Drake called back. Slipping out the door as he pulled his black cloak on, Drake braced himself against the humid chill. Better see what this guy and the lord are planning. Can't have them getting in the way.

Almost half an hour of wandering later, Drake found himself standing outside the lord’s manner, arguing with the guard. “Listen, I’m here about the guy and the thing in the place. Yea, you know what I mean. Just let me through, pal.” He didn’t mean to be vague, but he didn’t have any real idea who he needed to see or what he was dealing with in the town.

The guard didn’t budge. “That’s as may be, but you have to leave your weapon here. In the manor, no uniform, no weapon. Them’s the rules, bud.” A long moment passed as the two men stood staring each other down. With a great sigh, Drake handed the weapon over.

“I better get it back,” Drake muttered with an upraised fist and a stern glare. The guard rolled his eyes, easily twice as broad as the tall thin man and armored as well. With a lazy wave, the guard signaled Drake through the door and moved to place the weapon in a lockbox.

Inside, Drake looked around and found himself unimpressed. The man may have been a lord, but a stingy one if the unadorned gray stone walls were any indication. The only thing of interest was the man sitting on the bench, covered in armor with fiery red hair. That’s gotta be the guy, he thought immediately. Or the laziest guard ever.

Dropping onto the bench beside the man, Drake introduced himself. “Hey, I understand you’re here about the village’s …err…problem. Well, lucky you," Drake said with a wink, "that also happens to be the purpose of my visit as well. I’m Drake Alabane, and you are…”

[A Nony Mouse]

“Travis Kiltias, pleased to meet you.”

The lanky traveler who had taken a seat next to him appeared amiable enough and so Travis didn’t mind when he initiated conversation. Truth be told, he needed something to take his mind off the wait. Lord Tetraine’s servant certainly was taking his time finding the proper scribe in the manor’s interior.

Turning to take in the man’s appearance, Scison Kiltias responded to his comment. “Yes, I’m going to have a look at their problem. Are you working for an agency?” It would be good to note if there were rival groups vying for possession of the artifact… competition meant that he would have to guard his secrets closely. However, if the man had no alignment to a group... Perhaps I can pick up a new member, the leader of Lucht du Sol thought.

With a vested interest in the man’s response, Travis hardly noticed when the servants finally arrived with scribe in tow. Standing when the robed man drew close, the red-haired warrior shook hands with the scribe. “Hello, my name is Travis Kiltias of the Lucht du Sol and this is Drake Alabane. We’re looking for any information you’ve recorded about the artifact reported to have begun all this.” The redhead knew it was a risky move to let his potential rival in on his only lead, but Travis had a good feeling about the man.

Hoping that his gut instinct was right, he followed the scribe down a side hall. “I had better be right about this…” he muttered to himself.

[Alabane]

Tavis…Travis…where have I heard that name before? Shrugging off the irritating gap in memory, Drake took in the man’s next words carefully. He’d never given a thought to working for an Agency, but it certainly captured his imagination now. A group of shadow members, each using an alias or codename of some kind and operating across the nation, or many nations even, completely in secret. That was something he could be interested in, but somehow that just didn’t mesh with the man beside him.

Remaining silent as Travis introduced them to a rather bland looking individual, whose only remarkable thing about him was how unremarkable he was. That’s the kind of guy I could forget in a second, Drake commented to himself. As Travis continued, Drake felt his cheeriness dissipate a little. An artifact? No necromancers here then. Still gotta deal with the zombies though. As though to emphasize that last part, Drake reached for the scimitar that wasn’t there.

Refocusing his attention, Drake followed the pair down the unremarkable hallway. As they pushed forward he was just about to comment about how boringly grey the manor was when they arrived at their destination. His opinion of this lord guy would need to be severely reevaluated. The octagonal room before them was massive, two story bookcases lining every wall with more short bookcases arranged into aisles leading to a huge center round table. Placed atop the shorter bookcases were glass encased displays. Many held small statues or broken pottery, but a few held pieces of armor or weapons. Judging from those, it became apparent that the displays were of historical importance as many the weapons and armor were so crude or inferior that they could only have been used for wars long past memory.

Piecing together that it was an artifact that caused the town’s illness and this room, Drake was unable to keep his mouth shut. “Ha! Can you believe the lord actually paid for this? What do you think the salesman’s pitch was?” Catching himself before he could finish a tasteless joke, Drake shifted uncomfortably under the scribe’s stern glare.

[A Nony Mouse]

“Indeed,” the scribe said dryly. He ignored Drake’s comment and turned his attention to one of the many ornate bookshelves in the strangely shaped room. Travis waited patiently for the man to finish his work, noticing as he did that Drake seemed extremely fidgety. Maybe he’s just unused to being inside a lord’s estate, the redhead rationalized. After just a few moments, his attention was focused back on the scribe as the man turned and carefully set a large tome on the table near the center of the room.

“Here it is,” the scribe mused largely to himself. “An elegant knife was delivered to Lord Tetraine nearly two weeks ago by an emissary of the draconians. We had assumed that the emissary came from the nearby draconian city, but that fact was unsubstantiated. The cloaked draconian presented Lord Tetraine with the knife, said his piece, and then left that same afternoon. He gave the name D’Ralgrath.” The scribe paused for a brief instant, scanned the page with his finger, and then continued.

“The knife itself was typical of ancient weaponry and the blade had been dulled from many uses. The handle was carved from a single piece of onyx and the iron blade was laid in the handle several inches. Intricate runes decorated the blade and a tassle of some unknown material hung from the pommel. Its origins and properties are unknown.” The scribe slammed the book shut promptly and stared at his guests. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Travis was still trying to sort through the information, lost by how fast the man presented everything. Hooded men with old knives that did nothing but looked odd? That was the gist he picked up, but he couldn’t be entirely sure that it was accurate. “Could you copy that down for us? I’d just like to have it later as a reference.” Travis smiled as his own cunning; best to hide the fact that he only understood half of what the robed man had said.

“Anything else you need, Drake?” the Scison of Lucht du Sol asked his partner.

[Alabane]

Did he need anything else? Not really, but he did have some idle thoughts on the matter. First, it was foolish to accept anything from a draconian who only gave a first name. From the sailors he met getting to Dheathain, Drake heard that the dragon people went by their name followed by their father’s name, unless they were in disgrace. Second, why was the knife moved? Did someone steal it? He would think on these later when he had more time.

With a sigh, the scribe pulled parchment, pen, and ink from the folds of his robes. After scribbling the details down in a hasty and slanted script, the scribe handed the paper to Travis and ushered them towards the entrance. Leaving them at the door, the scribe quickly disappeared down the mazelike hallways.

Following Travis, Drake glanced at the building clouds on the horizon. In a few hours it’d be raining. Great. Moving through the town, subtle changes became more and more apparent. Pebblestone streets became softer and softer until their feet sank into it and each step made a squelching sound as the ground filled their prints. The air became wetter, almost sticky, eventually foglike as they neared the border of the quarantine. The ground obscured with thick mist, the buildings darkened by unnatural shadow, it was downright creepy. The sky was still blue, but this portion of the town was just inexplicably darker.

“Well, feel free to take the lead. “ Turning to his new ally, Drake made a pointed glance at Travis’s chainmail. “You’re better suited for going in first, you understand.”

[A Nony Mouse]

Groaning under his breath as his partner ushered him forward, Travis Kiltias drew his dehlar short sword and waded into the dank quarantine area. Guards nodded to them as they passed the border between the infected grounds and the town; clearly someone had warned them of the two travelers’ arrival. “Drake,” Travis whispered as they made their way forward, “What is the nature of this infection, do you think?” If it was an airborne plague, then they would be putting themselves in danger as they made their way further in. “Is this a foolish risk?”

From the look on his companion’s face, Travis knew he was being overly cautious. If the plague hinged on the mysterious knife delivered by the hooded draconian, then it was most likely an area effect. At least I hope it is, Travis thought. The mud sucked at his boots, but the redhead kept to his course even as he closed in on one of the zombies.

“Hail, villager,” he called in a low voice when they were closer. “We seek entry.” His greeting seemed to fall on deaf ears for the mutated creature continued shambling along toward some unseen goal. Travis green eyes peered about as far as they could see; every zombified villager was plodding along as if they had something to be doing. “Strange,” the explorer muttered to no one in particular, “Very strange.”

Keeping one eye on the infected villager, Travis turned back to his companion. “Farther in?” he asked Drake. Perhaps the knife which they were searching for would conveniently be located in the center of the quarantine area. However, nothing was ever that easy. Sighing, the red-haired adventurer waited to hear what his partner had in mind.

[Alabane]

Gritting his teeth as Travis hailed the villagers, Drake felt his shoulders tighten. Calling to the undead could very well have marked them for attack, but nothing came. Sighing in relief, he considered the situation carefully before responding to his partner’s questions.

“Travis,” Drake whispered back, “I don’t think there’s much risk of you being infected.” It wasn’t a concern for him, elementals didn’t leave bodies behind when they died and couldn’t be made into zombies, but he could see why his partner might be worried. Having your body reanimated and made a slave to magic couldn’t be pleasant. “The infection doesn’t seem contagious, otherwise all the guards would have it since they stand so close all the time.”

Drake almost added, “Don’t worry, I’ll kill you if you start to turn,” but thought better of it. Humans were sensitive about that kind of thing. They didn’t like to discuss eventualities.

Turning his lightless eyes to the side, Drake waved Travis onward. “No point in turning back. We need to find that knife.” It wouldn’t be that easy, he knew that. Magic items like this knife were made with a purpose. People didn’t just cast random spells at an object until one took, there was a specific use they had in mind. But why zombies? Good at taking orders, but not much else.

Quickening his pace to march beside Travis, Drake drew his scimitar. He might not have needed it, but seeing the ambling dead made him nervous. He always felt more in control with blade in hand.

[A Nony Mouse]

The two relic-seekers made their way further into the infected region without trouble. The shambling undead went about their business and made no move to bother the pair. In fact, their lack of attention worried Travis slightly. He’d always thought of the undead as relentlessly pursuing their prey until they were turned or hacked to bits. Though I’m glad we’ve had to resort to neither yet, he told himself. These are villagers after all.

Drake seemed to defer to the red-haired Scison and so Travis pushed forward with determination. Although he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, he felt it best to put on a good appearance. As long as he appeared to be in charge, Drake would likely follow.

The companions approached a larger building near the city walls where zombies were posted outside the door like sentries. Expecting them to be as oblivious to their presence as the rest had been, Travis strolled nonchalantly up the steps and made for the door. With uncanny speed, the zombified villagers sidestepped directly into the adventurer’s path, blocking him from entering the building. As he stopped in surprise, the traveler noticed short swords tucked into their belts as well. These decayed warriors apparently still had some pluck to them and Travis took a step back as a precaution.

“Drake,” he whispered as he slowly backed down the stairs, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “What’s happened?” As if on cue, the undead they had passed on their way into the quarantine appeared from between the buildings behind them, effectively capturing the two warriors in a tight circle.

Now armed with all manner of weapons and numbering nearly one hundred, the army of zombies shuffled forward with a purpose. The uncaring attitudes that they had displayed earlier were gone; these creatures had a singular goal in mind.

As Travis tightened his grip on his dehlar short sword, he eyed the mass of approaching zombies carefully. No break in their ranks gave an exploitable weakness and they were standing nearly three deep; the redhead could see no chance for escape. Even with decayed muscles and ligaments, their sheer numbers would be enough to overwhelm the two warriors. He backed toward Drake, unsure what to do next. “Any bright ideas?”

[Alabane]

He was coming up empty. There wasn’t any obvious way out with zombies covering every conventional path. They were going to have to cut their way out. “I say we take that door you tried for before. They’re obviously guarding it, so that’s where we need to go. Even if it’s not, we stand a better chance using the door as a bottleneck.”

He didn’t favor trying to kill that many all at once even if they could constrain them to single file in the doorway. “On three, break for the door. They’re tricky to kill, so just knock them out of the way as best you can and focus on the sentries.” Cracking his neck to the side, Drake recalled a bit of trivia he’d heard about the undead. “One. Also, don’t let them bite you.” The dark elemental hopped a little, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Two.” Now or never. “Three.”

Hoping his partner was following, Drake exploded across the ground in a full sprint. Muck flew from his boots as he closed the gap, each clod landing with a resounding plop. He reached the first and struck the man with the hilt of his scimitar square in the chest before the cursed thing could even raise its pitchfork. His stomped on its stomach as he ran over it and shouldered the following rank as hard as he could. Together the three of them all hit the ground with a wet splat, and tangle of flailing limbs and convulsing bodies. He crawled along using his spare hand to drag him forward while he sliced desperately around him, severing everything he struck. The zombies were excellent enemies to go against with a scimitar, their soft flesh and its viscous sawing cuts made its wielder an amputation machine.

It seemed like an eternity, but in a matter of seconds Drake had extricated himself from the pileup. As he ran to the steps, the dark elemental spared a glance around for Travis. In all the excitement he hadn’t kept track of him, or anything really. Pulling a still-moving hand from his collar, Drake scanned the growing swarm behind him. It was all zombies as far as he could see, but the screech of swords being drawn from rusted sheaths drew his attention back to the stairs.

[A Nony Mouse]

On ‘three’, Travis charged toward the stairs just behind his scimitar-wielding companion. His dehlar short sword soon became coated with muck and grime as it sliced through the yielding flesh of his opponents. Soon, however, he lost sight of Drake as he required full attention on his blade in order to avoid being disemboweled. His supple leather boots carried him quickly around the shambling zombies, but surprisingly several of them had the reflexes to compensate. It was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.

Briefly wondering whether their lack of deterioration was on account of the spell or the timeframe, Travis turned and hacked the head from an undead soldier standing at the top of the stairs. The unfortunate creature stumbled back as he was decapitated, but came back toward his target with a vengeance once he regained his footing. Grunting with exertion, the leader of the Explorer’s Society kicked the monster away and leapt up the creaky wooden stairs.

Drake stood just inside the door, facing the largest undead that Travis had ever seen. The hulking mountains of decaying flesh and rotting muscle pulled swords from their sheaths and came at the pair with determination. Their movements were shaky and unsure, but their strikes had all the force of an avalanche. As Travis stepped forward to block one of their blades, he was thrown several steps back. “Watch out,” he warned his partner.

The three undead champions moved closer and the zombies behind the pair of explorers suddenly stopped pressing in. They remained in their circular formation, but made no move closer to the two living amongst them. Their abrupt change in tactics worried Travis, but not more than the fact that they seemed to be coordinated. With a warcry, he plunged toward the approaching brutes, his sword leading.

The first zombie batted away the dehlar blade, but Travis turned to momentum into a whirl. As the monster slashed with its own sword, Travis’ weapon came cleaving through the air once again, but this time from the opposite side. The rotting corpse had no time to react, the blade bit deeply into its shoulder and lopped its swordarm clean off. Smiling as he planted his foot, Travis let the weight of his attack carry him free of the creature’s flailing arm. All manner of decorum lost, the remaining two brutes closed in quickly.

With only two blades left to guard against, the red-haired warrior went on the defensive. Surely he could fend off two of the things while Drake slipped around them to land finishing blows? And if not, the Scison thought… He let the problem trail off in his mind, better to focus on the task at hand.

[Alabane]

My posts this week may become sparse/absent. I'm coming up on a final. I should be back to normal next week though.
Drake was more than happy to let Travis face down the behemoths on his own. He made it look easy as he robbed the first of its arm, but the others seemed to be giving him a bit more trouble. Carefully avoiding wide swings, the dark elemental slipped behind their backs and went to his gruesome work.

The scimitar whistled as Drake sliced at the back of the first one’s knees. As the hulk lumbered to the ground, he slashed at each arm with long curved strokes. Each swipe cut muscle to the bone, disabling the arms. The pitiful thing still struggled on the ground, its hands clawing desperately in a futile attempt to rise.

The second and final beast backed away from the pair as it fended off Travis’s shortsword, showing surprising intelligence. It would not be taken down so easily and showed an almost human understanding in its decayed yellow eyes. With a while behind its back, the loathsome ghoul held them in checkmate with sword and scabbard drawn. Striking with supernatural strength, spittle flew from rotten teeth as the beast roared its defiance.

Taking what he sensed as an opening, Drake dove forward on the offensive. He wasn’t an endurance fighter, preferring to lethally precise strikes in rapid succession to fell his enemies. It had worked well in the past, his natural speed giving him an advantage few could match, but not here. The ghoul was on him before he’d even come close, stabbing him in the shoulder with iron scabbard.

The blow blasted him off his feet with a gasp, unknown bones breaking as he slammed into the wall. As he struggled to stand, and failed, Drake could only watch as Travis faced the creature alone.

[A Nony Mouse]

sorry for the wait.
The crippling blow that the brutish zombie landed on Drake made Travis wince in sympathy pain. As his dark-haired companion was catapulted into the nearby wall, the Scison of Lucht du Sol saw his opening. His dehlar short sword swung in a wide arch, meeting the beast’s scabbard and pinning it against a wooden beam. Following through with a whirling kick, the warrior’s leather boot connected in a punishing blow to the thing’s midsection.

Doubling over from the force as opposed to the pain, his enemy fell back several steps. However, his scabbard was still pinned and so he was forced to let go. It was exactly what Travis wanted. Yanking his heavy blade free from the beam it had been lodged into, he flew into the hulking zombie on the heels of his attack. Before the monster could recover, a shining blade sliced through its fetid flesh and removed its head in a clean strike. Sidestepping as the rotting body part fell to the ground, the red-haired fighter almost smiled. Almost.

Without its head to locate its attacker, the brute’s body went into berserker mode. With inhuman strength fueled by desperation, the thing swiped its wide blade in a keen arc through the air. Travis barely dodged out of the way as the rusty sword slashed at his heels. Luckily, the zombie didn’t realize that its prey had dodged out of the way and so it continued on its original course. Unfortunately, the next slash of the blade was aimed directly for Drake’s prone form.

“Bastard!” the red-haired adventurer screamed at the zombie warrior’s back. But there was little he could do; the beast’s sword would find its target sooner than his would. He could only hope that his partner had some defense or the plague would claim another man to its fell purpose.

[Alabane]

Drake could feel each lumbering step the hulk took, tiny vibrations tended to travel well through stone. When it slashed at him, it took all of his effort to roll out of the way with only one arm. For some reason his left wasn’t responding. The move left him gasping for breath, both from the effort and the pain. Clawing his way to his feet, Drake waved to Travis.

“We should move on,” his voice was grating, coming in short bursts as he lurched down the hallway. “Let’s not take any longer than we have to, eh?”

Struggling to stand normally, Drake was surprised he’d managed to hold on to his scimitar. He’d thought he let it go. After sheathing the blade, the dark elemental cradled his left side and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as it did.

In short time they made their way to a large circular room with three adjoining doors leading off in different directions. The walls were covering in dark dripping substance Drake guessed was blood, forming some form of script he’d never seen before.

“Well, which way now?”