by Neil Hartley
Dreth tied his pack off and looked at the undead munching on the remains of the thief. “Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be an adventure.”
“No, thanks, I was never the adventurous type. Anyway, I’m okay here. It’s not that bad really.”
“When I said, ‘why don’t you come along?’ I wasn’t really asking.” Dreth examined a variety of swords and other weapons he had saved from his many victims.
“Bastard. Everyone always picks on us Zombies, we’re the scum of the undead world, isn’t that right Percy?” He nudged the other zombie, who was sucking an eyeball out of the skull with a slurping sound.
“Eh? You what now?”
Cuthbert made a tutting noise and attempted to take a deep breath, though this was not altogether successful as his lungs were quite rotten.
One sword that seemed to throb with black energy caught Dreth’s eye. The hilt was silver and gold, inlaid with various red gems. White runes were engraved up the length of the blade. He picked it up and swung it about, testing the balance.
“Hey! Watch where you’re waving that thing! Nearly had my arm off! My other one I mean.”
“Sorry,” Dreth said, not very sincerely. He found a suitable scabbard and strapped the sword on around his robes. “How do I look?”
“Like a dead man walking.”
“Haha. Very funny. Now, finish your adventurer. There’s one more thing I need your help with.”
Cuthbert tucked the foot into his belt and stood up. “Now what?”
“There’s a group coming through the tunnels. This one,” he pointed to the now mostly eaten thief, “and that stupid fighter who pulled your arm off were members of their party.”
“So?”
“I want to take one with us.”
“You what?” Cuthbert gawked at him, spitting out several teeth. “Are you mad? Oh wait, you mean as a snack.”
“Nope, I mean whole and upright. Sometimes the fully alive can get past things that we… not quite living can’t.”
“Why just one then? Why not take the group? There are still three left.”
Dreth rubbed at his forehead. The trouble with zombies was that their brains were mostly rotten, they weren’t too great on thinking. “There’s a wizard, a Cleric and a barbarian. All of them together may be a bit hard to control out of our little area. One though, one would be manageable.”
“Well, I’m not taking the Cleric, that’s for sure.” Percy folded his arms. “They give me the creeps. Have you ever been turned? Not nice I can tell you. A friend of mine was turned a while ago, he’s been off his game ever since. Hardly even bothers to shuffle along properly any more.” He shook his head sadly.
“The Barbarian would be the easiest,” said Cuthbert, getting back on topic.
“Perhaps so, but the wizard would probably be the most useful,” Dreth said.
“Dangerous those mages,” Percy countered. “The current record holder for the Pit of Doom was a mage. The Giant Spiders were cleaning up for months.”
“Still, something to be said for a good spellcaster.” Dreth kicked the Halflings’ mutilated head across the room, bouncing it off the wall so it came to rest against a pile of skulls.
“Good shot,” said Cuthbert.
~ * ~
“Crug no like,” Crug said in his most eloquent tones. “Crug think trap.”
“I concur with our brawny friend,” the Cleric interjected. “My instincts say we should pay heed.”
The three surviving adventurers were huddled in another passageway. Having failed to open the slab that had trapped Littlehorn, they had backtracked and taken another route in the hopes of finding their friend. They hadn’t found the thief, but they had narrowly avoided two spiked pits, one swinging axe, a fireball activated by a pressure pad, and three tripwires. They were still no nearer to finding their companion, and tempers were beginning to fray.
“Look, of course it's a trap. The whole place is one giant trap.” Redthorne rubbed at his forehead in annoyance. “I admit I made a mistake hiring that worthless thief, or I should have at least hired two. Still, he’s gone now, and I say we push ahead with our mission. Unless you are going to renege on your agreements?” The mage raised his staff in a threatening gesture.
“Nom does not break his sworn oath!” declared the Cleric.
“Renege is what?” said the Barbarian.
“Just move forward,” sighed Redthorne. “Slowly!”
The three set off down the corridor, which had a number of shadowy alcoves along the walls, containing nothing they could detect. They traversed the tunnel with no mishaps, much to their relief, and emerged into a large dark cavern, the use of which was not apparent.
There was a slight noise, though it wasn’t possible to identify where it originated from, as the whole place seemed to echo. The three stepped into defensive formation, with Crug in front, his enormous sword raised high. Nom clutched the Orb of his god, Grom, and muttered a blessing, whilst Redthorne held his staff and readied magic.
A skittering noise came from the left. Crug swung round as a large black spider appeared out of the dark and lunged towards him. Two more of the creatures materialized from the right and Redthorne turned to face those, staff blazing white in his hands. More movement could be made out in the shadows.
Behind them, from the tunnel they had just emerged from, came another sound. Nom turned to see a zombie, arms outstretched, lurching towards them.
“Undead to the rear!” he cried, raising his orb.
“Deal with them then! We’ll take the arachnids,” the wizard commanded, throwing white fire at a giant Black Widow.
“I kill spider!” Crug said, covered in green gunk. The remains of a greater tarantula lay on the floor next to his feet.
Nom faced the zombie and raised his Orb. He cast his mind out to the Might of his god, and reached for the Power. The mighty deity Grom responded, sending the force of Good through his vassal and towards the undead in an invisible wave of energy. The creature made a hissing sound and staggered backwards as the magic impacted.
“My thanks to my Lord,” muttered Nom and, taking his mace in hand, strode forward to finish the foul beast, which was now fleeing up the passage.
The wizard shouted something behind him, but Nom was intent on his prey, and ignored the warning. The zombie lurched around a corner into an alcove and cowered against the wall as the Cleric approached.
“Die creature of evil!” Nom raised his mace of Smiting and brought it down upon the creatures’ skull.
Or tried to. Something restrained him. He looked up and saw a thin hand, pale skin barely covering the bone, gripping the shaft of his raised weapon.
A dry voice whispered next to his ear. “Perhapsss not.” Nom straightened as sharp claws dug into his back, just below his armor. He screamed in pain as cold fingers wrapped around the base of his spine, severing all control to the lower part of his body. He pitched forward, to be caught by the zombie he’d so recently cornered.
“Time for the zombies to fight back Cleric,” it hissed in his face, blowing fetid breath over him.
There was a wet sound, and Nom felt a cold sensation along his back as his spine was forcibly wrenched from his flesh. The restraints on his armor snapped and it fell to the floor with a dull clang. The tearing sound was loud in his ears now, and with the last moments of his life Nom saw his corpse fall forward, a long bloody hole where his backbone had been, terminating at a ragged tear where his head had been twisted away from the neck.
Blood spread outwards in a dark pool on the stone floor, and Nom’s spirit ascended to join his god.
~ * ~
“You cut it fine is all I’m saying,” Cuthbert complained as they walked along. “Another second and I’d have just been a load of rotting breakfast.”
“You were never in any danger. That medallion I gave you warded off the Cleric’s p
ower didn’t it?”
“Maybe so,” Cuthbert looked down at the dull black necklace hanging around his rotten neck. “But it still hurt.”
“Well here then, you deserve this one.” Dreth handed over the Cleric’s head, now permanently etched into a look of horrified surprise. The still attached spinal column dripped blood and muscle tissue.
“Oh nice! I do like a good lollipop.” Cuthbert took the remains and licked at the still dripping backbone. “Yummy.”
They wandered back along the dark corridors to where Percy was waiting.
~ * ~
“Where are they now then?” asked Percy, looking jealously at Cuthbert as he savored the tongue of the holy man.
“The spiders pushed them back, they’re resting just outside the Troll caverns.” Dreth arranged his cloak about him so that it looked the most ominous. “We still need to separate them before they leave our territory completely.”
“Why not just rush them?” Cuthbert asked, waving Nom’s jawbone about. “Oooh! A gold tooth! I always wanted a gold tooth!” He wrestled with the jaw, pulling at the item in question.
“I suppose we could,” Dreth considered it. “We should be able to take them easily enough now the Cleric’s out of the way. We need to act quickly though, if they wander into the trolls we’ll have a hard time getting the mage alive.”
“I dunno,” said Percy. “That wizard seems to be pretty powerful. I think we should push them into the goblins. Then we can take the wizard whilst the Barbarian is fighting them. We know the tunnels in that area, and the goblins are scared of you.”
Dreth looked up in surprise at this unusually bright idea from Percy. “Not a bad choice, though we aren’t on the best terms with the Goblin King if you remember.”
“Pah! Goblins. I can’t be held responsible if I accidentally eat one of them can I?” Percy looked disgusted.
“Maybe so, but you could have checked that it wasn’t their princess first,” Dreth said.
“Look at me! I have a gold tooth!” Cuthbert danced around grinning, his new denture forced into a gap in his gums.
“Just concentrate on the problem at hand please, or I’ll give your lollipop to Percy.”
“Bah, you were never fun,” the zombie cradled the Clerics’ head and sat down. “Why don’t we get the spiders to attack them, and take the wizard in the confusion? Worked for this one,” he patted his toy.
“How would we get them back into the spider’s lair?” said Dreth. “They know it’s there now. Besides, the spiders lost quite a few of their kind in the fight, I doubt they would go for it.”
“We could offer the Barbarian to them,” suggested Cuthbert, trying to see his reflection in an old helmet.
“No fair! You got the Cleric!” protested Percy. “The Barbarian is mine!”
Cuthbert grinned a gold tinted grin and held the noggin close. Dreth shook his head and considered the options. “We may have to go with the goblins, I’d prefer to lure them into the troll caverns, but I can’t think of any way to do that.” He sat down on his chair and then jumped slightly as a piece of parchment slid under the door.
“What’s that then?” asked Percy.
“How should I know? I’ve never had anyone slip anything under the door before.” Dreth thought a moment. “Well, except for a thief one time. Anyway, give it too me.” He waggled his fingers.
“Yes your highness,” Cuthbert said sarcastically, picking up the paper and handing it to Dreth, who was silent for a minute as he read the spidery script.
“So?” Asked the zombies in unison, when he finally put the parchment down. Dreth passed it back to Cuthbert, who squinted at it in the gloom.
“What’s it say?” said Percy, who had forgotten how to read. He peered over Cuthbert’s shoulder as his friend read the notice out loud, tracing the text with a finger.
Deceased and Desist Order.
It is come to our notice that ‘Dreth’, subsection 3b, area 4 (undead), designation: Undead Way Guardian (advanced level); henceforth referred to as ‘The Resident’, has been engaged in un-authorized activities. To wit: Venturing outside allotted dungeon domain (undead).
Furthermore: It has come to our attention that the Resident’s lair has been left unattended for unacceptable periods of time, and that the Resident has engaged and distracted several zombies, designation: Guardians (Fodder level), from their assigned patrol areas.
Such activity is in direct breach of agreed protocols and directly contravenes the contractual duties of the Resident.
This order is the first and only warning, as specified in sub-section 4,509, paragraph 52, lines 309-466, for the Resident to return to Dungeon Guardian (advanced level) duties. Failure to abide by the terms of the contract will result in disciplinary agents being dispatched.
Thank-you for your attention. Have a nice day.
DM.
“Fodder level is it?” muttered Percy. “Cheeky buggers. I’m a professional I am. That’s downright degrading.”
“Who’s DM?” asked Cuthbert, passing the note back to Dreth.
Dreth shrugged. “No idea, don’t care.” He scrunched the notice into a ball and threw it on the floor.
“Do you still have this contract?” Cuthbert said, as Percy wandered off grumbling to himself.
Dreth scratched his head. “I don’t think so. I signed it before… before I became like this. After the wizard changed me I didn’t really think about it.”
“So you’re going to stay here now then?” inquired Percy, who had started rummaging through a pile of old equipment in the corner. “Hey! Look! I found a wand!” He held up a long stick.
“Let me see that,” Dreth said. He examined the artifact closely for a moment. “Hmmm, a wand of illusion, still a couple of charges left.” He rubbed his chin. “I think I have an idea…”
~ * ~
“Are you listening to me warrior?” Redthorne poked the barbarian with his staff.
“Crug hear. Crug no like. Cleric dead for sure. Just…” the fighter counted on his fingers for a moment, “two of us now. Not good. This place bad.”
The mage leaned back against the wall of the alcove they had taken refuge in after the spider fight. “Yes, I know. However we’re blocked off from the exit. Big dropping slab remember? We have no choice but to push on.” He consulted a piece of parchment. “I think I know where we are anyway.” He pointed at a location on the map. “According to this there are goblins that way somewhere,” he waved his hand to their right, down a dark corridor.
“Goblins easy kill. No problem.”
“Yes, for once we’re thinking along the same lines. The important thing is... We must not split up! Do you understand? Hey! Are you listening to me?”
“Quiet. Crug hear something.”
“Don’t quiet me! This dungeon seems to work by picking people off one by one, if we stay together… Hey! Where are you going? Weren’t you listening to what I just said?”
“Crug hear woman! Maiden need help! Quick!”
“What the… Don’t be an idiot! What’s a woman doing down…” The wizard cursed to himself as the barbarian stood up and started jogging off to the left. “Blast the moron!” He scrambled around, stuffing papers into his pack before scrambled after his sole surviving companion. “No more barbarians! I swear! Next time it’s Rangers all the way. Crug you numbskull! Where are you? Oh there.” He glanced the back of the barbarian hurrying off down a fork in the tunnel, and scrambled after him. “Wait for me!”
The wizard panted as he raced down one tunnel and then up another after his companion. “Hold on blast you! This is not somewhere we can simply run about wildly!”
The passage terminated abruptly, and the figure stopped at the dead end to turn and face him.
As Redthorne drew closer some sixth sense caused him to slow and raise his staff. “Crug?”
&nbs
p; The fighters’ form shimmered and changed, to be replaced by a different profile altogether. The impostor was still tall, but far from the muscle bound torso of the barbarian, this one seemed to be more corpse-like. Indeed, it appeared to be skeletal thin. Pale skin was drawn tightly over bones, and dark eyes stared out at him from a deathly white face.
The figure stood still, its black robe hanging loosely around it, revealing a sword strapped to one side. A dark Aura swam about the weapon, visible only to the wizards’ extended senses.
“Beast! What have you done with Crug?”
“The barbarian is being dealt with by some friends of mine. He shall be worm fodder before you can do anything about it wizard.” The voice was barely more than a hiss.
“Then you shall die!” Redthorne raised his staff.
“Wait!” A claw-like hand raised in a gesture. “Look behind you.”
Redthorne looked at the creature through narrowed eyes. What was going on here? He glanced behind him. Two more figures, mere zombies, were at his back, one wielding a rusty sword and the other apparently straining to hold a spear.
“You may get a spell off, who knows? It may even hurt me, but even if you manage to harm me, my friends will run you through.”
“What’s your game creature? Why do you toy with me thus? Do you have my comrades?”
“Your comrades are no longer a consideration,” it said ominously. “However, I need your help.”
“My help? My help?” Redthorne kept his staff leveled at the figure. “You are but a foul servant of evil! Why should I help you?”
“Aside from the obvious answer that you will end up dead if you don’t? It could work to your advantage.”
Redthorne cocked his head to one side. This didn’t seem like your usual dungeon ploy. Something strange was going on here. He lowered his staff slightly, whilst still remaining alert. “Go on, I’m listening.”
~ * ~
“Save me! Help!”
Crug could hear the damsel clearly now, her high pitched voice ringing with desperation. He held his sword in front of him and moved, panther like, towards the sound. Of course it could be a trap, but Barbarians didn’t heed that sort of thing. They went in sword swinging. It was a tactic that had always worked for him before.