Jidar panted silently. Those skeletons just kept coming. At the moment he had his back pressed against the wagon and was surrounded by four of them. But suddenly his luck changed, as five people came charging at the skeletons. They began fighting when he noticed something odd. The 'people' currently saving hime were covered in dirt, were fighting the skeletons with only their hands(And were winning!), and appeared to be in the midst of decaying.

 

He was being saved by skeletons by corpses. Unfortunatly, Jidar had no time to process this odd information as one of the corpses began to advance on him. Jidar sliced towards the deadman's neck, only to have it lodge in it's arm when it put it up to deflect the blow. Screaming in frustration, Jidar quickly advanced and punched it roughly in the neck, hoping that crushing it's windpipe would help. Unfortunatly, dead people don't need air. Fortunatly, rats seem to like the taste of rotted meat. Or so Jidar decided, as a wave of them engulfed the corpse.

 

Approaching cautiously, he grasped his sword and pulled his sword out of it's arm. Looking around, he was happy to see that there didn't appear to be many things around that would try to be killing him. It should have been dark, but the fireman was being very helpful, lighting up a lot of the area as he reached for that screaming woman.

 

Jidar continued to scan the area. Screaming woman? He jerked his gaze back to the fireman. Yeah, there it was. Fireman currently trying to kill screaming woman. Jidar sighed and submitted to the urge to commit suicide, which, he figured, this would inevitably lead to if he still couldn't channel correctly.

 

With that thought, Jidar grasped saidin hurriedly as he ran, ignoring the taint for the moment, and began to channel. I need something that'll either destroy it or stun it for long enough for me to get the woman. Oh, Light, help me! As he neared, the fireman stumbled back a little as it appeared the embers where it's chest would be seemed to diminish, as if something had hit it and left an indent. Air! Thank you, Light!

 

As he ran past the woman he grasped her hand and pulled her along. The fireman was already recovering, and Jidar wasn't one to press his luck. Now, where to? He didn't see anywhere that would spare much protection for them. The best he could do was go to a wagon again and put her behind him.

Even as Dilora and Malic turned and began to run, Anton saw that Alianna wasn't with them. Looking about wildly, it was a streak of lightning that helped him find her as she faced off against a pair of undead. Turning in his run, mud splattered him as he ran through what was quickly becoming sludge. Smashing the back of a skull so hard it shattered, Alianna quickly put the other one down by smashing the front of the creature's face inward with the butt of her stave. As she turned to face others that were coming, Anton grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into running.

 

Lashing out at any of the undead that came near them, they ran their guts out. As they did, an impossibility came into their vision, as if anything else that was around them constituted normal. Flames, a living man of fire ran towards them, a shroud of steam following it in its wake. Its arms outstretched, the pair dived to either side at the last moment, the elemental being plunging directly into its pursuers. Indiscriminate in its victims, it wrapped itself around a corpse that had only been dead a few months, broiling it even as the monstrosity tried to escape the elemental's fatal embrace.

 

Their other pursuers either scattering or attacking the flames in mindless rage, Anton and Alianna were given a chance to get their breath as they got to their feet again. Seeing one of the undead perched on a corpse a couple of steps away from him, he reacted without thinking, leaping forward and thrusting the butt of his stave, knocking the creature away where it lay limp.

 

About to turn away, he noticed that the woman was actually alive! "GET UP!" Reaching down and grabbing her arm, he pulled her to her feet, only then realising her legs were broken when she tried to put weight on them and sagged. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to help her up until Alianna appeared to take the otherside and between them, they ran again, their staves in hand.

 

They ran into little resistance, in Anton's rapidly panicking mind it was because the undead were grappling with the silhouettes that one could make out in the rain. If he'd been watching closer, he might have realised it was not just the living fighting the undead. Rather, the undead were just as eagerly turning on each other, fighting over those they killed even as those who were killed rose anew to try and fight off those tearing at them with fingers and teeth, the darker details of which were hid by the dim light and the heavy rain.

 

Hope came with the sight of the wagon, and others clustered about it. The woman was limp in their arms, the pain from her rough rescue possibly sending her unconscious for all he knew. It was only when they'd loaded her in the back that Dilora's screams got through to Anton. The wagon was mired in the sludge, there were no chance of using it to get clear. Turning away from the wag-

 

We're going to die.

 

That was the one overriding thought that silenced every other consideration as he saw the line of undead that were advancing. Not some regimented line, rather a disjointed field revealed by random strikes of lightning to occasionally turned on itself as it inexorably moved forward. No rush, there was nowhere left for them to go without turning their backs, and that would prove to be as good as dead with so many of them now.

 

Too many, not enough, too many, not enough, too many, too many, dead, dead, dead everywhere, dead, dead, no, dead, no, kill, dead, no, kill, kill, kill, dead, no, kill, kill, No, NO, NOOO!!

 

Snarling as he crouched like a cornered animal, more primal urges took over him as he panicked; overwhelming fear, the instinct for survival, hatred and disgust of the abominations that shambled towards them, the desire to kill before being killed. All of it swept through his being, coursing through him and overwhelming all vestiges of rational thought. His knuckles clenched as they gripped the stave tightly, his shoulders set themselves and his breaths were no longer ragged from the running. Rather, they were like bellows, fanning the flames of his panick, fuelling his fear, his rage, his fury. Yet a tiny piece of him within all that was able to make sense of one last thought.

 

Kill.

 

RRAAAAARRRRGH!!!!!

 

The howl that tore his throat wasn't human as he threw himself forward into the first of the dead to close. Smashing the haft of his stave into a mutilated woman who had breathed but minutes before, he knocked her on her back from the force of it. Smashing his stave into a thin skeletal form to the left that sought to take advantage, he didn't even feel his right foot as it smashed down on the woman's head, burying itself at the back of the corpse's skull.

 

Withdrawing the foot as he stepped back, he swung to the right across the body with the same movement, the stave punching cleanly through what was left of one of the undead's stomach and spine. All the while, he yelled, howled and screamed as he was lost to the maelstrom of his primal instincts.

 

 

Anton Averdal

Traveller

 

OOC: I've noted that there were people crowded around the wagon by the time Anton got to it. You can either be one of those people or get to them after he arrived :) So far they're approaching from one direction, but naturally they'll circle about so they're coming from all sides and we'll be pressed up against the wagon using it to make sure we don't get stabbed in the back as we fight. There are NPC's with us, so if you're still thinking of writing one dying, here is another place for them to do so :D

 

At anyrate, get in and have fun :D

** to be re added with changes *strangles james**

 

** Per James’s request and a tent away form the carnival some. **

 

 

All morning Tayala had been running around the tent and Jara was smiling at her daughter. There was some thing special about Tayala, she had happiness in her that was catching, and any one around her could not help but smile. Shaking her head Jara turned around and continued to work on cleaning up the inside of the tent form their lunch, not really paying attention to what Tayala was doing in the back ground. As she looked up and out her the flap in the tent, some thing strange was starting to happen, the sky darkened and some thing seemed to be moving over the area. The things that she stated to see from in the tent were horrifying, people were being chased by monsters and some people were even being killed. There were other things that seemed to be flying pass in the small are she could see and attacking those who were outside. She saw some thing that looked like it had been dead for several days look at her and wink before biting some man that she did not recognize.

 

Jara was scared and almost screamed when Tayala touched her arm to get her attention. There was a strange feeling in the touched almost like she was feeling bugs climb over her arm. Looking down at her daughter, she did not even realize that she had dropped the knife she had been holding. Shock is the only thing that could describe her reaction; the knife was now sticking out of her daughter’s foot. It was not the fact that the knife was stuck in her daughter’s foot that was so shocking it was that there was no blood and her daughter was not in pain at all. Shaken by what she was seeing Jara bent down and looked in Tayala’s eyes.

 

“Are you ok Tayala?â€

 

“Yes mother, I am fine I just can not move my foot it’s stuck.â€

 

Jara could not believe was she was seeing, the knife had stuck in to the dirt that made up the floor after it had stabbed her daughter’s foot. Not sure of what to do she picked up a few pieces of cloth just in case, her sewing kit was close by so she could take care of the wound until she could get her to the one healer in the camp. Not wanting to scare her daughter she grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it out in one quick motion. Slowly she sat back on her heals and frowned, this could not be possible there was no hole or blood on her daughters foot at all. Not even the knife held any blood or trace that it had been in the child’s foot. Unsure of what was going on she smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and told her to stay close and becareful.

 

It was only a couple seconds later that she heard her daughter cry out in surprise, turning quickly she saw her daughter falling though the air. it did not take her long to reach the girl and she could see that there was nothing wrong with her at all even though she had fallen from the top of the tent, it was confusing because there was nothing at the top of the tent that she could have fallen off of. The top side of the tent however looked as if some thing had taken a circular section had been cut out of the material. She turned her attention back to her daughter and checked her over to make sure that she was not hurt in any way. Luckily there were no broken bones or any thing else wrong with Tayala, the day seemed to be stranger and stranger as time went by. Tayala got up and smiled at her mother before walking over to look out the tent flap, as soon as the girl did that she started to shake.

 

Things change a few moments after that, Jara walked over to her to see what as the matter and could not help but scream. All thought this time of horror and attacks, her little girl did not have any wounds. Now where the rain had touched her skin there were small sores forming, and her skin looked almost like some thing was moving under it. Tayala started to cry and itch at her skin on her arms, it was then that the horror really started, any place that her skin cracked small bugs started to come out. At first she was able to wipe them away but in no time at all more were pouring out of her skin. The girl started to scream and be sick, throwing up more insects, other ones started coming out of her ears and sores that were beginning on her legs.

 

Jara unsure of what to do tried to help her daughter by brushing the bugs off, with the first contact of her skin on her daughters, the bugs started to come after her. Thinking to get some kind of help, Jara started to go out the flap with Tayala coming after her. When they both were outside Jara realized that there was not any one around to help them, her moment of indecision cost her her life. As she was moving out in to the path she tripped over a body and the bugs swarmed over her, her daughter looked like a living mass of bugs as she moved in halting steps. No where on her skin was there any place that was not covered by something that crawled. Jara screamed as the insects started to dig in to her skin, it was not until she started to feel some thing moving around inside her that her screaming stopped, she laid there crying and looked down at her stomach. Her skin split apart and rats and spiders boiled out of her, slowly the cries stopped as the light left her eyes.

 

Tayala screamed as her mother died, but there was nothing that she could do to help her or herself. The bugs continued to come, then she started to feel extreme pain in her legs and arms, the pain was so much that she could not keep standing. Lying next to her mother she let out a muffled sob as the sores on her legs and arms split wider to allow several snakes to slip out of her skin. After the first one came out she did not even have time to take a breath before it bit her, the poison worked fast and she died with a horrified look on her small face.

Alianna stood, stupefied for the time being. To her side, she saw the horrified look upon Anton’s face and she heard Dilora’s screams as if from a distance though the woman stood not ten feet from her. She was outside reality at that moment. She was away from the cruel reality of her impending death. ‘I will join you soon, my beloved.’ she whispered to the spirits of her husband and son, waiting for her wherever it was that the Creator sheltered their souls.

 

Even as Anton rushed forward with an avenging cry, she stood stock-still. Just as she had at the edge of the crater at Chachin, she could not move so overwhelmed by shock was she. This time, however, it was her death she was witnessing, not her family’s.

 

Anton slammed into the line of the undead, quarterstaff whirling, desperately trying to escape the inevitable. ‘Why does he fight?’ though she, already submitting to death. ‘There is no escaping it now, only prolonging. Light, let it be quick. Please, let it be quick so I can join my family!’

 

One of the undead broke away from Anton, escaping the long reach of her fellow thief-catcher’s stave. It advanced towards her slowly, stiffly, as if it felt the long months it must have lain in that grave. Parts of skin still hung desperately to its skull as the flesh was consumed by worms and other insects. Where the eyes should have been, there were only craters, looking into where a brain should have been. The corpse must have been months, perhaps even a year or two in the grave. It should have stayed in the grave. Why did it come? What evil power possessed it an motivated its limbs? What forced it towards her?

 

She should have been welcoming towards the death that came to her so sweetly. Months of grieving were over as she left this cruel world to join her family in that paradise that was death. Finally she was leaving her worries, her pain, her sorrows, her emptiness behind. It would all leave her in peace as her inexorable death approached.

 

Why was it then that she felt fear? What was it that told her limbs to hang onto the curse that was life without Dominik and Henrik? How was it that her grieving brain told her arms to fend off her coming salvation?

 

In those critical moments, just as the thing came in reach of her stave, a sudden realization hit her- she didn’t want to die! Like a person taking their own life by jumping from some height, just as she was about to hit the ground she questioned the rationality of inviting death. She didn’t want to die! Even in her misery she wished to cling to that most precious gift that was life.

 

A wave a fear engulfed her, driving her almost to nausea. What was she doing giving up on her life without a fight? Fear forced her arms to move, to lash out with her quarterstaff. Sidestepping the animated corpse, she swung, bringing her stave up then crashing down on the protruding skull.

 

The stench of rotting flesh, flesh that belonged in the grave- that should have stayed in the grave- nearly overpowered her. She wiped her mouth as she vomited the pies she had eaten earlier over the already re-mobilizing body. Why wasn’t it staying dead? Was a second death not enough for it?

 

She saw Anton a few feet from her struggling with more of the living dead. Knowing she stood no chance against the corpses alone, she desperately fought her way towards him.

 

Advance. Swing. Parry. Retreat. Advance. Swing. Spin. Advance. Parry. Swing. Retreat. Advance. Duck. Sidestep. Swing. Advance. Parry. Swing. Spin. Sidestep.

 

In that way, by indirect route, she eventually found herself back-to-back with Anton. Fear filled her and it was obvious in her voice as she spoke, voice rising above the clamour of battle- for battle they did against these undying things, escaped from the nightmares of a child. “What are we going to do?†Her voice was punctuated by a sickening crack as she broke the neck of a woman, only hours dead, by swinging her staff neck-level and connecting with the base of its neck. Had she not already killed this same thing twice before? Light, but even as they killed the things they rose again to renew their efforts. At least when she had killed a thief in her line of duty- regrettable incidents those, however necessary- it had stayed dead.

 

“I’m afraid.†she shouted, tears beginning to run down her cheeks as she once again fell into despair. There was no hope left. They could not make a dent in their enemy. As she and the few living still remaining tired, the enemy strengthened adding the corpses of those who had fought against the things only moments before, before they had died. “When you kill a man, he’s supposed to stay dead!†she sobbed.

 

Her tears were those of despair, of frustration, of fear. Her arms ached from whirling her staff. Her legs felt ready to collapse from dancing with these nightmares. Her body was covered in lacerations from the nails, and occasionally weapons, these things used to attack them. A bite she had received on her arm throbbed, and she suspected it was infected. Light, but they were going to die!

 

ooc: no where near as long as my last one but ten points to whoever can name which of Shakespeare's works I quoted...

Jidar had long lost the Oneness, and was at the moment bolstering his tired body with adrenaline from the myriad of emotions floating through his body. Hatred at these dead abominations currently trying to kill him. Anger at his bad luck that he'd gotten a free day from training for the fair. Despair at the impending death. And irritation at the woman currently behind him, hysteric and not a bit of help. Then some lightning flashed, and he saw people gathered around a wagon that was being attacked by the corpses.

 

That's our best chance. Jidar thought, as he absently swiped the head off a corpse that had been trying to grab him. We need to cut a path through them and head for it. And that was when his luck changed.

 

A lance of lightning shot down into the mass of dead, and opened a hole in it between Jidar and the wagon. Reacting quickly, he grabbed the woman and cut an opening to the hole before it could close and rushed for the wagon, ignoring the tingle from the electric currents still in the air and slicing down any of the undead in his path until he reached the wagon and led the woman beyond the line of fighters to catch his breath.

 

Thank the Light. That was the kind of thing I wish I could do with the bloody power. After regaining his breath, he looked around and saw that they were almost to the undead were pushing the fighters to the wagon. Time to fight again. He thought as thunder roared through the wagon, almost drowning out the sounds of the dying and dead. Jidar rushed back into battle, sword slicing through the bodies of the dead.

The wagon was stuck. Seriously. It was stuck. Leilwinn and Toram had managed to survive the onslaught of undead in the carnival proper, that stupid necklace that had, for lack of a better term, attacked her, no fewer than three wrong turns leading to more (not less) undead in their path, and the injury of one of their party not from bite wounds or brain-eating, but from being tripped by a particularly tenatious piece of pink ribbon. They had sighted the wagon and the mass of living people and thinking this a great possibility, had joined them only to discover the wagon was incapacitated and now the cluster of individuals was being ringed on all sides by more undead. Sometimes a trip through the country just did not turn out as one planned. Sadly, it seemed like all of Leilwinn's trips went awry no matter what. There was the time with the brigands, the other time with the brigands, the Fight Club fiasco (though that at least was not dangerous), and now this.

 

People along the front charged the encroaching undead. Leilwinn moved to join them but Toram held her arm tightly. She could see his knuckles going white.

 

"I could leave my arm with you, if you like," she hissed, at the same time trying to wrench it free.

 

"No. You stay here. It is important that you survive this above all others. I will go."

 

Now it was Leilwinn's turn to be the restrainer though when she grabbed Toram's arm, he simply drug her a step or two rather than being stopped. It would appear her grip was not quite as powerful as his.

 

"I could say the same about you. You aren't just my protector, you know. You have a duty to the nation as much as I do. Besides, two swords are always better than one." She moved to follow him and all at once his arms were around her and she felt herself pressed against one of the wagon's wheels. "Are you hugging me? What are you doing? This is awkward..." Even as she spoke she moved to return the gesture. And found that she could not! He had tied her to the wheel with her own belt!

 

"Oh, you sneaky son of a goat!" she shouted, pulling at her restriants and simultaneously trying to kick the man.

 

"You'll free yourself before it gets dangerous, but at least this will keep you away from the front for the time being. If not, this lot will." Toram gestured at the other members of their party. "Stay with her. She must remain safe." And with that, he was off again, towards the onslaught.

 

Leilwinn freed herself quickly enough and moved towards where Toram fought. The men with her knew better than to try and stop her so they contented themselves with ringing her, blades drawn. Blocking out all else, Leilwinn moved forward in a slow charge, ready to hack her way through whatever evil or vile and disgusting thing showed itself in front of her.

 

"I'm afraid! When you kill a man, he's supposed to stay dead!" Leilwinn heard a woman cry. Her eyes grew harder and her grip on her weapon grew tighter. Her muscles tensed as she unleashed her first attack. So intent was she on the destruction of those that threatened her, she did not even hear the sickening crack of bone and wet squishy brains as she brought her blade down on her first victim.

CRAAAAAACK!!!!

 

Everything went white then black as Anton's vision was swallowed up. The shock of his eyesight being lost was in turn broken by the collision of someone into his chest, the stave being knocked from his grip as he flew back. Hitting the ground on his back with a squelch, he frantically wrestled with what was ontop of him blindly, managing to get it on its back and finding its head drew his fist back then stopped, what was under him wasn't moving.

 

Furthermore, it was no longer raining.

 

Staggering to his feet, he found he couldn't hear anything as he spoke, yelling he could only make out dimly. Reaching out with his hands, he bent down and tried to find his stave. His hands told a story in their own right, wherever his hands went they found the dead be it bone or rotten flesh. As he did so, Anton found himself questioning his own sanity, was he even alive?

 

That question soon answered itself as his sight began to return after what seemed like hours but was most likely only a few minutes. First a vague light creating a field of grey, then came focus and the ability to distinguish between shapes. As this happened, his hearing began to return as he heard others talking. Wandering towards the sound, tripping a couple of times along the way over the corpses underfoot, he managed to make it to the wagon.

 

Finding Alianna was safe was a relief, as was finding Dilora and Malic, even their horses. Their party was still intact, and there were others still that had joined them. As his sight improved, he was able to make them out, and he no longer had to shout so those near him could hear. But what loomed above stole his eyes.

 

The black clouds that had unnaturally formed were dispersing, the light breaking through the clouds to reach those that had survived below. It was when he looked around that the enormity of what had happened truly struck him. Corpses were everywhere, piled upon one another and the bones of skeletons to be found everywhere. In this macabre feast, vermin of all shapes and sizes still scurried about or so Anton could tell from the sudden flits of grey and black amongst the corpses.

 

Tears were what came to Anton more than anything else as he leaned against the side of the wagon. He had never seen anything like this, and he never wished to see such in his lifetime again. It was something he couldn't explain it, and all he knew was that he'd been more scared than any other time in his life.

 

Such musings and attempts to come to grips with what had happened were soon overpowered by the stench of the grave. The rot of the bodies that had been thoroughly soaked quickly had Anton staggering forward to heave his guts up. Collapsing onto his knees as he spewed, the smell from that only made it worse, and it was only by force of will in a moment's respite that he was able to pull himself away.

 

By this time, his eyesight was normal though his ears still rang dully. Looking upon the wagon again, he remembered the woman that he and Alianna had picked up along the way. From the looks of a couple of others, they hadn't done so well either. They'd be better off riding in the wagon, if they could free it of the mire it was in.

 

It didn't take long for them to organise it, and by their combined number of fifteen strong that were able, they managed to do it. Loading the others that were wounded into the wagon, it seemed a long way to the gates of Caemlyn. Trudging in the mud alongside the others, there was a quiet that hung over them as they made their way inside the city, or perhaps it was simply Anton couldn't hear well.

 

The undead had made it into the city and run rampant, probably the only reason why the Queen's Guard had not made it to the gate. Nearby, an inn whose sign was no longer to be found swinging above the door seemed a palace in Anton's mind. Not that he could hear anything, the place had most likely been fled as the gate was overrun. Turning around to the others, they stopped as he did.

 

"Lets go in there, offload those who are wounded. A couple of you that are able go and find a wisdom if you can, and bring them here. They shouldn't be moved much further if it can be helped."

 

Whether it was because he was right, or whether no one else was really thinking, oddly enough people did as he said. A couple of people he didn't recognise along with Malic left to find a wisdom while the others helped unload those who were hurt badly. Wandering into the inn as the others helped the wounded, Anton couldn't help but feel relief that there were no corpses or vermin waiting for them. Indeed, the place seemed untouched within, it must have been closed and its owner gone to the carnival.

 

Wandering upstairs, Anton dragged a pair of straw matresses downstairs and had them laid out as the first person was brought in, the woman he and Alianna had grabbed. More matresses were brought down by others and soon everyone was either on a matress or in a stool with a mug in hand as Dilora had found a keg after securing the horses. Peering into his mug before taking a long draw from it, Anton put it back down before speaking loudly enough to cut across the room.

 

"What do we do once these people are taken care of? I had hoped to stay in Caemlyn longer, but the dead walking... Dark One's curse, I've never seen anything like this..."

 

 

Anton Averdal

Traveller

 

OOC: Crack was a last massive lightning strike around the area, hence why the undead was hurled into Anton. Blast was around the outside so you'd be thrown in the wagon's direction. The bubble is officially finished, all that follows now is aftermath. :) Also, those of you that didn't make it to the wagon, if you want to meet up at the inn do so :)

One moment Jidar was charging through a sea of seething bones and rotting flesh, screaming his defiance as he realized he couldn't last for even a minute longer, when suddenly a deafening noise filled the air as he was thrown back into the wagon, vision going white for a moment before turning black. He gasped for breath, only to choke as a rotten taste filled his mouth and a chunk of meat touched his tongue. Rolling to his side, he began throwing up for five minutes, until he was having dry heaves. By the time he was finished, his vision had cleared enough for him to see through a film of red, slightly like when one looked at the sun.

 

Surrounding him were corpses. None were moving, they were just ordinary corpses. Rotting flesh coated Jidar, along with the slime from his own mess. He began heaving once again, crawling towards the wagons weakly, where he could just make out people moving. As he reached the wagon, where people had cleared away the dead, his arms gave out and his face went into the mud. Rolling onto his side, he went into a fetal position and began rocking to and fro, to and fro, weeping silently. He didn't pay any mind as he felt arms put him into the wagon. Nor did he notice any of the people in it, sobbing and trying to keep themselves alive. Nor the arms around him, as the woman he'd saved cried into his shoulder while trying to comfort him. He didn't know any of this. At the moment, all he could do was assure himself that he didn't do it.

Such images. Such pain and suffering. Such hurt and destruction and above all despair. Everything Dilora had seen had shocked her, and she had travelled far and wide without seeing such things and for once, screaming out in fear had seemed the perfect thing to do. Her mind was a tumult of images, horrendous things that swirled in her head in a riot of colours and violence like some obscene tattoo decorating the back of a tavern tough she had known once. This trauma would last. At the very least she could use the fact she had survived such an unbelievable series of events to help sell her odds and ends, and provide accurate news when she rolled into town. Another blessing. Altie was fine, settled in the stables of the inn they now stayed in; it’s owner gone, or lost, or dead, and all of the other horses were fine as well. Dilora was happy her travelling companion was still alive in the midst of all the chaos, not to mention Malic’s horse that had taken such a shine to the mare. On the return back from the stables, she had spied a keg and in spite of her slender frame, Dilora hefted it back to the common room and set it beside where Anton sat looking into his mug. All around them mattresses and pallets from the rooms were being laid down on the floor, to help the injured to rest until the Wisdom, or some sort of Healer could be found to aid them.

 

Once she had filled her own tankard and taken a long draught, Dilora made sure that everyone holding a cup had a drink of whatever they chose. Most went for the ale, although some did ask for something stronger and Dilora promised she’d do her best to try and find some for them for the shock, if nothing else. Some took only water. Dilora drained the rest of her drink and refilled it, pulling a stool close to Anton and casting a shaded eye at Malic. He did not look well at all, his eyes holding a haunted look and his shoulder hunched over, looming in on himself. No, he was not himself at all. She crossed to him and spoke in low, reassuring words, pressing more ale onto him, which he accepted and drank gratefully. When he met her gaze again, he had a modicum of his former humour about his face, although she would keep an eye on him to make sure he was all right. Dilora patted his shoulder and smiled at him.

 

"What do we do once these people are taken care of? I had hoped to stay in Caemlyn longer, but the dead walking... Dark One's curse, I've never seen anything like this..."

 

Anton’s words drew Dilora back to the awful images she had seen, the bodies, and the unnatural things she had seen as she had tried to get back to the wagon. Thank the Light the wagon had been rescued from the mud, else more would have had to be left behind this day for whatever it had been that attacked them. She did not believe her eyes. The tankard was halfway to her lips before she knew it; mere trickles rolling slowly down the side towards her waiting mouth. Light. Empty already. It was justified, obviously. She needed it for the shock. Better not have any more though, not until the wounded were cared for – Dilora knew that much at least.

 

“Has someone gone out to fetch a Wisdom?†Dilora asked the assembled group. Alianna seemed exhausted from the looks of her. Anton nodded in response to her question and Dilora sat back briefly, trying to recover a little before she tried to help those with the few herbs she kept in the strongbox of her wagon, taken as everyone had been brought into the inn and now safely in the pouch at her waist. Examining her own clothes she was tattered and torn in places that would be laughed out of most of society, but then everyone was in a similar boat. At least she still had her belt pouch with her. “Good. She felt weariness in every bone in her body, a tiredness that would only be relieved by a long hot bath in front of a fire, but that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Sleep could come later, when everyone was tended to, but for now she had work to do. “Light, I’ve never seen the like in my life, nor wish to again. How we survived I don’t know, but thank the Light we did.†Rising wearily, she reached into her belt pouch to the small amount of medicine contained within and crossed to the first pallet, kneeling alongside and reaching forwards with cool fingers to test for fever.

 

“Tell me where it hurts.â€

One moment she had been running for her life, knowing that death by fire was just a step away. The next she had jumped into the slimy water, hoping, praying even that that would save her. When she resurfaced, coughing because of the smoke and the slime, close to retching, it was all over. The creature was gone. Slowly she crawled out of the reeking creek, looking around her at all times. It was too dark, the fire creature was gone. Suraya would have cheered, if she hadn’t noticed her smell and the slime on her skin at that point. She stumbled to the nearest bush and emptied her stomach, dry heaving long ever all she had eaten that day was gone. The rain kept pouring down her skin, washing away the worst of the muck and the soot.

 

Feeling more than a little sick Suraya stumbled back to the fair and her wagon, pleased to find it was still whole. A quick inspection told her nothing had been disturbed by corpses or rats or fire creatures. “Thank the Light for small miracles.†She muttered, stripping out of her ruined clothing and washing herself as thoroughly as she could with the rain that had filled a bucket outside of the wagon. Some people walked past the wagon, but no one seemed to notice she wasn’t clothed. No one cared, Suraya least of all. She just wanted to get rid of the smell and the feeling of slime on her skin. She scrubbed and scrubbed, as if that was the only way to get rid of the things she had seen and felt.

 

By the time she was done, Sterre returned to the wagon, looking only marginally less rough around the edges than Suraya had. The other girl reeked almost as bad as she had, and Suraya was sure that if there had been anything left in her stomach, she would have lost it by now. Without speaking she offered the other woman another bucket that had slowly filled with rainwater. While Sterre washed, Suraya got dressed again, more conservatively that she had in the past five years. Her breeches were long and thick, and the blouse she wore was dark, and she buttoned it up to her neck. It didn’t feel right to wear showy clothing right now. The last thing she wanted was to stand out.

 

When Sterre was ready as well the two women waited outside of the wagon for a while, staring at the wreckage. They avoided the obvious things, like the decaying corpses lying no more than a few yards away. Finally Suraya turned to Sterre. “Maybe we should follow them.†She said, nodding at the slow procession of people walking into the city. Now that she felt less nauseous she noticed she was quite weakened by her run, and then emptying her stomach. “I need some food.†With a nod from Sterre the pair went towards the city, following the people. Eventually they ended up in an inn that was just slightly less crowded than the other inns they had encountered. Suraya was shivering by then, and Sterre wasted no time getting Suraya to a bench by the fire.

Tears blurred her vision. They stung her eyes yet when she licked her lips, her lips were not salty. Rather, she tasted a bitter, metallic something that nearly drove bile to her throat- blood. As if impaired vision were not enough, she felt dizzy, almost to the point of collapsing. 'Light, there must be quite a gash on my forehead. 'Dominik won't like that.'

 

Hysteria pulsed with her heart, filling her body with nearly senseless fear. The thoughts within her mind bordered on insane. Wasn't Dominik dead? Then why was she thinking of him? How could her beloved husband be dead? She had just seen him moments ago! Her son, Henrik, was he dead too?

 

Desperately she fought, wondering whethering each breath, each step, each 'kill' would be her last. The question of her family came up again and again in her mind, never seeming to fully leave her consciousness. 'Why-' the sane part of her brain whined '-must I always think of them? Am I not in enough pain?'

 

But any coherent thoughts were always drowned out by the part of her mind driven mad by hysteria. 'I wonder if this was how they died? Fighting some inexorable foe, fighting fear incarnate? Did they think of me before they abandoned me to this cursed life? Or are they alive and I dead? Is this the Dark One, tormenting me? What have I done to deserve this? I've worked for the Light! Dear Creator, save me from His hand! Don't let your child suffer! Oh Light, why?'

 

Another of the things clawed its way past the one she had just sent reeling towards the ground. Throwing the full wieght of her spinning stave into its chest, it too followed its fellow into the mud. But even sending that one back to the earth from which it came didn't gain her any respite. The fall of one made room for another and always the fallen came back.

 

Rain, blood, sweat and tears ran in a horrid combination down her face. Had she not been so terrified by the living corpses and been so busy fending them off, the meer taste of the mixture blocking her vision would have been enough to have her heaving her guts on the ground. As it were, that would have cost her her life and anxious as she was to meet her family again, she couldn't seem to let go of her wretched life. Like a begger with a single copper- useless to him, but prized none the less- she would not loose it without a fight.

 

CRAAAAAACK!!!!

 

Whether it was moments or minutes or even hours that she lay on the ground, she would never know. Upon regaining consciousness, Alianna found herself too weak to even move her limbs. Her entire body must have been a mass of bruises and lacerations. How she had managed to continue fighting was both mystery and miracle. Wearily, she let herself drift back into unconsciousness. Maybe death would finally take her. It would be a relief.

 

Gentle hand helped her to her feet. "What? I'm still alive? I had hoped... I thought I was dead." It was almost a plea. A plea for it all to end. The pain the horror, there was nothing left to live for. Collapsing again, she wept for her soul on Anton's shoulder.

 

Shock. Such a familiar emotion, yet in its famliarity it was no less strong as when she had stood at the brink of the crater where Chachin and her family had been. It took nearly an hour for the horror of the situation to hit her in its entirety. Leaning over the side of the wagon, everything she had ever eaten left her stomach, searching for some better place than the body of a woman so terrified by everything that had happened. And she had thought she had seen the worst at Chachin. Could the Creator in his glory not shelter her in her weakness?

 

When there was nothing left to vomit, she simply leaned limply over the side of the wagon, weeping again.

 

At the inn, where her companions put on a brave face and tried their best to help the rest, Alianna just sat crouched in a corner. Her eyes stared off at nothing, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the locket around her throat. She looked like nothing more than another of the corpses, her face covered in blood, tears, vomit, sweat, rain and a host of other things, to gruesome to be mentioned. Under the layer of grime, it was impossible to count the wounds and it wasn't until someone came to her that she even thought of washing. Or rather, that she thought at all. Thoughts were dangerous, too painful. So what's better, life or death? At this point she would have preferred the latter.

"Well let me see it at least," Toram said setting down one of the tankards of ale in his hands on the table in front of Leilwinn. After a long draught, he set his own down and took her bloodstained face in his hands, turning it from side to side like he was examining a small melon. "Might be broken, I guess. But really, it’s not like your nose was doing your face any favors in the first place."

 

"Well I was usig it to breathe," Leilwinn said in nasal way that made her sound like a pouty child with a head cold. She tipped her head back and went on, "I also used to use it to sbell. You dow, until you elbowed be in the face."

 

"Sbell?" Toram asked.

 

"Yes, sbell. You dow, like with by dose. Sdiff sdiff. You stink." She made a waving gesture over her nose to demonstrate.

 

"Oh! Smell!" Toram laughed and Leilwinn did her best to frown around her swollen nose. He held a fresh rag up and gently blotted a new trickle of blood. "Well, in any case, I’m sorry about that. It was just reflex. We’ll get you back to the pala-to a Sister as soon as we can."

 

"Well, I bean, we cad fiddish the ale first. I’b dot that bad off." She took a swallow from her mug. It was a bit of a challenge not to drown what with not being able to breathe through her nose, but Leilwinn managed. "But I’b curious. What bade you think I was a zombie? Did I look particularly brain hungry to you? Does subthing about by skin tode say to you ‘undead’? I ought to have you throwd in the dungeons for treasod."

 

"Treasod?"

 

"Cribes against the throde."

 

"Throde?"

 

"Shut up."

 

Leilwinn looked around the room at the other who had weathered the storm. As quickly as the onslaught had come it had dissipated, but not so for those who survived. She had seen a number emptying their stomachs though she didn’t know if it was from the fear or from disgust. She had long ago become used to gore, but though she wouldn’t say it out loud, not even to Toram, she was more scared now than she had been in a long time and it lingered with her even now. For the natural laws of the world to just change like that…

 

Looking around the room at the survivors, she was suddenly struck by what courage they must have had to outlast the storm. For a trained warrior it was one thing to fight such unimaginable things, but for simple villagers, shopkeepers, and normal citizens, it was quite another. She motioned for Toram to lean in.

 

"I was thinking of something..."