Of undead and their ilk.

by **Tanothiel** Tue Oct 21, 2008 9:38 pm

((Edit: Forgot to mention, feel free to reply here, I've only begun the next portion and it'll be some time before I'm happy with it))

Tanothiel darted around the building, his lithe, elven form twisting
gracefully, not losing any momentum, while not so far behind a throng
of moaning humanoids shambled after the elf, desiring nothing more
than to rend him from limb to limb and feast upon his remains. One
word flickered through Tanothiel's mind like a small candle: Undead.
But then it was quickly dismissed by the more pressing concerns of
survival.

Bolting down an alley, he made his way through this deserted city looking for
an exit. Well, not exactly deserted, he thought, dodging yet another
of the flesh-eating abominations. The creature gurgled its protest,
but was quickly cut short when Tanothiel spun about and drew his
slender longsword strapped to his back, his long, raven-black hair
spilling down around his shoulders. With a simple backhand slash, he
found the decayed flesh no match for his elven steel, and
effortlessly parted the undead's head from its body. He didn't have
time to savor his victory though, for even as he replaced his sword
more of the beasts burst forth from the buildings around him, their
groans reminding him of his dire situation. Without a moments
hesitation, Tanothiel took off once more, the chase beginning anew.

Another turn brought a grimace to his fair face: he had run himself into an
alley with a barricade! A cursory examination showed him no means of
escape, and turning back the way he came was not an option, not with
the multitude of undead hounding him. Calming his breathing,
Tanothiel looked once more at the obstruction. It was nothing more
than a hastily made barricade, crafted by the former inhabitants of
the doomed city. A few overturned wagons, as well as various
furniture and barrels marked what he assumed was their failed last
stand. Seeing no other options, Tanothiel searched the barricade for
his first handhold and hoisted himself up. His piercing blue eyes
darted to and fro, spotting his next position, and as he made his
move, his eyes already tracked another handhold. With the speed and
grace of his race, Tanothiel found himself at the top, pausing to
catch his breath.

The sound of a window sliding open caused the elf to jerk to the side,
readying his blade and body for combat, but it wasn't another
gruesome visage he saw, rather a strained and weary face of an old
man.

"Hurry, in here!" He hissed in a hoarse voice. Without a pause,
Tanothiel leapt into the opening, narrowly missing the man that had
been standing there. Rolling to his feet, he quickly took in his
surroundings. Around him, he spotted four ragged forms, survivors he
suspected, all of them carrying fearful looks. Tanothiel slowly took
in their appearances, noting the torn and soiled clothing they all
wear and the look of despair. He paid extra attention to a solitary
figure huddled in the corner, nothing that the person hadn't moved
since his arrival.

"How long has that one been there?" Tanothiel inquired, pointing his
sword at the person of note.

"Not long, we've been in here for a week now, and he just moved over there
yesterday. Pray tell me, does your arrival mean that others are
coming to save us?" The old man responded, a small glimmer of
hope flashing in his sunken eyes.

"Hardly, I'm just passing through, and the fate of this town and those in it
is of no concern of mine." replied Tanothiel, his voice so cold
and emotionless that the old man couldn't help but shiver.

"Well, if you're here, would you mind terribly helping us escape? We'll be
sure to reward you in some wa-" The rest of the man's plea came
out as a gurgle as Tanothiel slashed at his throat with his sword,
causing the other survivors to shriek and flee to the corners of the
room. Slowly turning about, the elf glared at the others in the
room, his look lending no doubt to his feelings.

"If any of you others feel the same as this man, speak now so that I may
'rescue' you from this situation, else leave me be." He snapped
his glare back on the figure huddled in the corner. "And I
suggest you all remove him before he turns and kills the rest of
you." With that, Tanothiel spun on his heels and stepped back
out onto the barricade. His face remained impassive as he heard the
survivors behind him wail and moan over the loss of the old man, and
kept his face stoic even as the wailing turned to screams of fear and
death. Casually glancing behind him, he noted that the solitary
figure had indeed become an undead abomination and lurched after the
other survivors, who could only scramble about in the room while
screaming, some falling to
the claws of the ghoul. Offering only a simple shrug as if in
apology, the elf leapt down the other side of the barricade and once
more resumed his journey to leave the doomed city.

He did not travel far before a monstrous creature shambled out of an
alley unsteadily. The beast was large and bulky with skin that was a
solid blue hue. Enormous warty bumps covered its body, some oozing a
pus-like substance, others spewing clouds of green and presumably
noxious gas at regular intervals. What Tanothiel noticed first though
was the fact that the creature has what seemed to be 8 arms working
independent of each other. Fortunately it looked as if the monster
hadn't noticed the elf yet, ambling away from him slowly. Tanothiel
pressed up against the wall, not bothering to unsheathe his blade,
for he didn't know for sure if he'd be able to wound such a thing,
much less kill it.

The creature snorted, its 3 eyes swiveling about on separate eye stocks
atop its head. After a short pause, it continued lurching forward on
an unsteady gait, proceeding down the street.

"What in the name of the Gods has happened to this city?!" Tanothiel
mumbled, detaching himself from the wall and brushing a few flakes of
clay from his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, the elf sprinted down
the alley whence the beast had come, hoping that he'd not run into
another one any time soon.

Another groan escaped his lips when he came upon yet another barricade. In
this case though, it was much simpler, just two upturned wagons atop
one another, but long enough to block the entire alley. Without even
slowing his pace, the lithe elf jumped up and cleared the barricade
in one go. To his dismay though, he landed flat on the edge of what
appeared to be the main city plaza, which also was teeming with
undead. Again fortune favored him for they didn't seem to notice his
arrival, continuing to amble about rather aimlessly.

Not one to question his luck, Tanothiel immediately fell to his stomach,
sliding along the edges of the buildings, making himself as small as
possible to avoid their attention. He eased his way into a doorway,
snaking his hand up slowly and turning the knob, delighted to find
the door unlocked, but also wary to have found a door unlocked. He
slithered in, taking care not to issue any noise at all, and silently
closed the door behind him, noting that twilight was fast coming to
an end, and that nightfall was almost upon him.

He studied his surroundings in the gloom, noticing a small table and two
chairs around it. A doorway in the back led to another chamber, while
the windows were covered with dark linen curtains. Tanothiel closed
his eyes, focusing instead on sounds, but heard nothing but silence.
With a slight nod, he walked in towards the back, his boots thudding
heavily on the clay floor. Dust sprinkled down from atop the table.
He took a closer look and noted curiously that a fine layer had built
up on top, as if this room hadn't been occupied for quite some time
now.

He slowly unsheathed his sword, making his way towards the back chamber,
separated from the main living area by a cloth suspended from a bar.
All in all, the living quarters were very humble indeed, with sparse
furnishing, and what was there wasn't in very good condition. His
mind sensed something out of place, how a home right near the main
plaza could be in such disrepair, but it was quickly dismissed as he
focused instead on the second room. He hadn't heard anything, but
his hair was prickling up, a sure a sign as any that it wasn't quite
safe.

He pointed his blade forward, the steel catching the dying light
filtering in from the window, and pushed the makeshift curtain aside,
revealing the inside of the second room. His eyes widened into and
he stumbled back, his hand coming up to cover his mouth on his fair
face in shock.

The floor had been dug away to leave a hole, but how far down he couldn't
even begin to surmise. Suspended on the walls on either side were
the charred remains of what he guessed were humans. All that was
left of them were blackened skeletons, their skulls forever frozen in
the grin of death. What had caught his eyes though were that they
were both shackled up against the wall, with the whole of their body
leaning forward over the whole.

“Well, whatever happened to this city, I'm guessing it started here..” He
stepped back, unsure if whatever had come from the hole was still
about. Being about the width of the small table, he wasn't too
worried, but nevertheless, if it was enough to bring about the death
of a city, he didn't want any part of it.

He made his way to the front door, opening it slowly at first, and
peeked out. The last rays of light had gone down, and now the stars
had come out in full. To his fortune again, the moon was nearly full,
illuminating the plaza almost as well as if it had been day. The
sight though of all the undead shambling about in the moonlight
though gave the elf pause, considering the surrealistic nature of
what he saw. He stepped out silent as death, pulling a small piece
of charcoal from his belt pouch, and wrote a bold X
on the wall adjacent the door, marking where he thought to be the
source of this.

He reached back behind him, loosing his grapple from his belt, and let
it fly up to the roof of the building. Confident that it had hooked
onto something sturdy, he made his way up deftly, rolling up and over
the lip of the building. From that vantage point, the moonlight
washed over him as he surveyed the city. Only the occasional moan
rose up from various alleys, of undead hungering ceaselessly. His
eyes scanned the horizon, finally spotting the gate that he had
entered from, and not far from his position no less. With a grin, he
undid his cloak, rolling it into a ball, and set it down to use as a
pillow. He'd have to wait till daybreak to make his run, but he was
fairly certain that he could be out of here by morning tomorrow. With
that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep,
but his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his blade.