Chapter 1: The Dawn
Osric Dracht walks on his toes to avoid the creaky floorboards of his humble home. A few light steps from his bed to the table is all that separates him from breakfast. Some stale bread and cold coffee at his small table fuel Osric’s thoughts under an open window. Looking at the docks outside, he considers the importance of the day; his fifth anniversary of living in Korci. Five years of patrols as a city guard, five years of fishing with his friend, five years of freedom. He enjoys the peace, and how little it reminds him of the tortures he endured. Osric crunches into the last piece of bread and glances across the dozens of fetishes and holy icons nailed to the walls. Anything at all to ward off evil and the memories of that man.
Soon, Osric walks outside and locks his door. The mewing of ocean birds over nearly covers the crunching of his boots as he takes the gravel path into town. Osric smiles and greets the usual citizens along the way, as typical for his morning routine. However, not too far into his journey there is a scuffle between two men ahead on the road.
“Get off me, you drunk!” The man pushes the other who staggers to the pavement. The first kicks at the other before storming off. but do not pick him up. Osric quickens his step to catch up to the scene.
“Hey. Get up,” Osric kicks at the man’s foot to barely any reaction, merely the return of a small grunt. His breath is shallow and he reeks of vomit and garbage. The vagabond’s eyes are closed, sunken, and dark. Osric imagines he’s likely another fool high on the illicit drug that’s been getting around the city lately.
Osric looks around to see if anybody nearby is accompanying the man, but what onlookers were nearby have dispersed and his arrival. He makes eye contact with an old man watches above from a window who shares an unconcerned shrug with Osric. Hoping to find any kind of identification on the unconscious man, Osric begins to look over the man’s belongings. The man on the ground wears loose, torn clothing with little to hide. He isn’t carrying any pouches or containers, and when Osric touches his pocket, he releases a black sludge that pours onto the ground.
The acrid smell horrible and causes the old man to groan and shit his window. Osric can tell it’s some kind of fermented paste, and based on the rumors, likely involved in the creation of that new drug. If Osric hadn’t already seen the low shifting of his breath anyone would have thought he was dead.
Osric kicks again and pours some water from his waterskin onto the apparently comatose man in one last attempt to wake him. He makes no reaction, but the addition of water has made the fermented smell magnified. His nose starts to burn from the acrid fumes and the overwhelming stench nearly causes him to miss a familiar voice.
“Oh, Lords beyond! What have you done, Osric?” Turning down the road, Osric sees his good friend and fellow watchman, Spiros Falka. The dwarf approaches plugging his nose and grinning. “Don’t you have an outpost to man? Should you really be playing around with gutter rats?”
The street is starting to empty further due to the stench, leaving Osric and Spiros alone with the reeking man. Spiros is a typical dwarf who stands to a height just below Osric’s chest. His light, fair hair barely contrasts at all against his olive toned skin. His grass-stained sleeves billow out from beneath his leather breastplate.
“Hey Spiros! You know me, I like to kick em’ when they’re down. Well, at first it was a nudge to get him up but then that sludge came out and I got carried away. Where are you headed from, Spiros? You don’t live down this side of town now, do you?”
With his free hand Spiros pulls out a small box and shakes it, “Just stopped off near the docks and picked up some fish bait.” The contents rattle inside, “What do you say we move on and head to our post? This smell is killing me.”
“Agreed. Let’s get going.” The two continue north along the street leaving the putrid man behind.
After passing underneath the North Gatehouse, Spiros asks, “There’s been a lot more of those gutterlings recently, huh? There’s one banging the wall out my window last night. Not saying anything, just bang... bang... bang. Near about speared him.” He chuckles, “You heard any rumors?”
“I haven’t heard anything new or interesting. You?” Osric shrugs and kicks a stone on the side of the road, “That sludge is pretty damn weird though. I don’t like it. Have you heard if the Captain is planning on finding the dealers?”
“Hmm, a few. Only two good ones though, nothing about that stuff.” The men finally reach the ladder to their wooden guards’ tower outside the city. Spiros speaks up while ascending the ladder, “More interesting first; heard around town there’s a Tower Mage staying in Korci. Odd lady by the sounds of it, goes everywhere with some little badger. Hearsay is she’s with some big bruiser, though I’ve also heard he might be a mage too.”
Osric follows Spiros up the ladder, “That’s interesting. Wonder why they are in town. We have anybody officially keeping an eye on them?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Based on how much we get paid, I don’t expect the city to pay someone to stalk a lady. I say leave her be, folk like that leave behind a good story. Besides that, there’s the other rumor.” Spiros, now leaning on the railing, points towards Osric and wags his finger in emphasis, “You remember Cyrene, right? The goldsmith down in south quarter? Well she told me, that her supplier told her, that the little mining village that she buys from has up and vanished. Well not the buildings and stuff, but all the villagers are missing.”
Spiros waves his hand through the air and wiggles his fingers. “Odd, isn’t it? Some little nowhere hole in the earth up north ways. Sounded like the suppliers where the only ones to ever really head out there. Cyrene couldn’t even remember the name.”
Osric looks uncomfortable for a moment. The village sounds too similar to his old home. He steadies himself and looks out from the tower to the soggy lands below. “Yeah, I remember her. It is a bit unnerving. If it was bandits there would have been signs left. Sounds like they all just wandered off into the woods...”
Spiros agrees silently and most of the morning passes by slowly. After a few hours, Spiros is pacing around the stand, “Shouldn’t we have seen a caravan or something come through by now. We’ve had slow days before but this isn’t normal.”
“You’re very right Spiros. This is troubling. I think someone should go back into town to tell the watch commander. This isn’t right; the forest is eerily silent.”
Spiros agrees that someone should go update the watch commander and kindly lets Osric volunteer. Osric climbs down and starts the long walk back towards Korci’s gate. Only a few minutes pass before he hears the hurried sounds of a horse and carriage. Osric turns around to catch the carriage blast past the tree line. Black horses move at a quick canter and the driver, bundled tightly in dark wools, conceals their face. The driver appears stiff in the rigid way he controls the reigns. While Osric has little experience with horses, he determines these creatures look exhausted. The carriage passes by faster than Osric can keep up, failing to see through the drawn windows to see any occupants.
Osric starts running down the road back to town practically chasing the ominous carriage. The horses pull away past the gate and out of sight within seconds. Instead of continuing to chase after them, Osric resolves to stay on task and find his commanding officer. Now that it is nearly midday, the streets of Korci are bustling with activity. Men and Dwarves crisscross the thoroughfare like any other day in Korci. Vendors peddle their winter crops with gusto and a rather portly dwarven woman shouts above the crowds about the superior quality of her woven baskets over her ‘homely, no good’ competitor’s ‘down on Roff Street’.
Three blocks into town, Osric turn off the main thoroughfare onto Black Lane where the North Guardhouse is located. A group of children are clustered bear the bottom of the guardhouse steps. Three boys, two humans and a dwarf, are teasing a human girl about something Osric can’t make out from the distance. One boy pushes the girl down and they all run away laughing, leaving the girl to pull herself up and furiously chase after them.
With the children far outside of his reach, Osric climbs the short steps through the threshold and alerts the building to his arrival. “Guardsman Dracht, entering.”
Answering the call, North Commander Eulis steps into the room. The dark-haired, clean-shaven man is tall and broad with muscles honed over years of service. “Osric, is there something to report?” He asks, clearly surprised by the early arrival. Osric explains the lack of travelers he experienced with Spiros along with the sole carriage that fled into town. Eulis nods, taking the story in and calls for a page to enter. After the young trainee arrives the Commander explains, “I just received a similar description from the West Commander. That was good initiative from you, and I appreciate being able to corroborate with the other commanders.”
Eulis instructs the page, “Please transpose this and have it shared with the other guardhouses. Osric, I’ll have Guardswoman Rosdahl investigate the carriage you mentioned. Go ahead and return to post and have Spiros deliver the evening report. Dismissed.”
Osric salutes North Commander Eulis and exits back into the street. The children that were outside are nowhere to be seen or heard and the clouds are growing darker. ‘Is a storm coming in?’ Osric sighs, ‘It’s going to be a long day.’
Osric looks down from the sky in time to notice the patchy haired man step out of the shadows. He stops a few feet short of Osric and yanks at his sleeve, “Hey? You know ‘Tee’, don’cha? You think you could introduce me?” The man twitches his lips and exudes an odor that, while not as strong as the morning’s nasal assailant, is still quite offensive.
Osric steps back, he’s heard this street slang at the bar from the other guards before. ‘‘Tee’ probably means Tar’, he thinks, ‘that new sticky, black drug’. The junkie looks you up and down expecting an answer, oblivious to Osric’s position in spite of his armor.
“No, I do not know “Tee”. Get on your way.” Osric swings around the stranger as much as the narrow street allows all while keeping the man in view.
Osric is almost able to step back onto the main street, but the man tries to grab at his arm. Osric pulls away before contact and the man is distraught, “Hey! No, I need s- I need to meet ‘Tee’!”
Looking over the junkie’s shoulder, Osric views the commander’s page skip down the guardhouse steps and start in the opposite direction, unaware of the confrontation. “Don’t try to touch me,” Osric warns. He backs up slowly, glancing between the addict and the page in the distance making mental notes where he might be off to.
The guttlerling reaches for Osric again but trips on a loose brick. Osric takes the opportunity to quickly back out of the street and onto the thoroughfare. He curses when he sees Osric getting away, “Shit!” He kicks and swipes at the wall. “Damn it. Damn it!” His voice trembles with anxiety.
Osric feels a blast of cold wind as he turns the corner onto the thoroughfare. It appears the shift in weather has affected the crowds as the street is emptier than when he came through before. It’s a long walk back to Spiros, trudging directly into the wind. Osric pulls some of the under wraps up out from behind his banded mail to block his face. ‘Thankfully there are some cloaks at the watch stand.’
After the long walk back out to the station north of town, Osric reunites with Spiros. “Ev’ry thing go alright?” He asks.
“Yeah, Captain said he will look into it. Said that the other guardhouses reported the same thing. I saw an odd carriage flying down the road too. Told him about that. On the way back, a junkie tried to grab me, but I slipped him. So,” Osric smiles, “I guess it was a bit eventful.”
"Yeesh,” Spiros adds, “it’s been getting pretty bad with those gutterlings. Things have been more of the same here. There is that though...” he points above the tree line. “Started showing up just after you left.”
Osric notices the tremendous number crows perching in the tree tops. He must have not heard them over the wind. Thousands of black birds fly over the forest, in and out of sight. While the two watch the birds, Osric spies a human figure creeping into sight along the tree line. It’s difficult to make them out, but he can see the person struggle from tree to tree from the east, slowly making their way towards the road. Their movement reminds him of the way the gutterlings stagger while on their drugs. Spiros doesn’t seem to notice.
Osric puts his hand on Spiros’ shoulder and points to the person in the distance. “Shit seems real... odd, Spiros. We need to stay together. Don’t leave my side until we figure out what is going on. This is unnatural. Might be my mind playing tricks, but... I don’t think it is”.
Spiros nods when the figure falls prone into the road. It hesitates for a moment and slowly pulls itself up and turns to walk down the path towards the city. The figure is about 200 yards way now, and slowly staggering forwards.
Looking off the rampart Osric side eyes Spiros, “Know anything about zombies?”
“About what?” Spiros replies not taking his eyes off the person, half out curiosity the other of disgust.
Osric lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Ah I’m sure it’s nothing. Bed time stories meant to scare children.” Osric shifts into a lie to hold back the emotions building up inside him.
The figure walks slowly along the road. As they get closer to the stand, the men make out more details: a masculine build in old, unkempt clothing; short dark hair and pallid face; injured hands and feet seemingly from his collision with the earth. Just as he is nearest to the stand Spiros let’s out, “Aw, shit. Look at this guy.” Reacting to the words the man turns his body towards the stand and looks up at both guardsmen. Just barely audible over the icy wind and crows they hear him wheeze back, “Hun... gree...”
Osric whispers to Spiros, “Did that guy just say... hungry..? You heard that, right? Spiros?”
The man starts to take a few steps towards the stand. "Uh, yeah. That's what it sounded like. Think we should help the guy? Looks like he's pretty banged up."
“No! I mean, just wait. Don’t go down there just yet.” Osric leans over the railings to get a better look at the guy below. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The man looks into Osric’s eyes and seems to consider the answer for a moment. He breaks eye contact and looks around at the ground and focuses on something beneath the stand and staggers out of sight, ignoring the call.
“Hey!” Osric jumps back from the rail and nods to Spiros. “I’m going to try to get a look under the tower. Get ready.” Osric lays down on his stomach and slides to the ladder opening to look under.
The hungry man come into view, dragging his feet until he touches the ladder and looks up at Osric. His orbits are dark and bruised, but his eyes have a sharp brightness to them. He stares at Osric and stands still, wrapped by the freezing wind, until he begins to climb the ladder.
“Stop! If you come up here, I’ll… I’m going to kick the shit out of you.” Osric pulls himself to his feet and tries to calm his rising heartbeat. Nevertheless, the pallid man ignores Osric’s demand and continues to climb. Soon, he reaches the top and struggles to climb into the stand. As promised, Osric stomps the intruder's head causing him to lose his balance and slip from the ladder. He silently falls to the ground below.
The pair of guards both look down the hole and see is broken his leg and quiet groaning. His eyes are closed and one hand barely holds its grip on the bottom ladder rung.
"Shit, Osric." Spiros exclaims raising an eyebrow, "That might have been a bit much, don't you think?"
“Nope, no sane person would try to scale a guard tower. I told him what would happen if he came up here and he was undeterred. I’m not letting a man that’s whispering ‘hungry’ into close quarters if I can help it.” Osric looks down below to the man feeling a little upset that he had to kick him down but is still firm in his belief he did the right thing
The pallid man starts to stir in the dirt, then uses his grip on the ladder drag his body nearer to it. Slinging his free arm over his body he grasps the ladder with both hands to pull himself up. Soon he is not only standing on his good leg, but is once again climbing the ladder. His limp, broken leg batters against each rung on the ascent.
Osric and Spiros look to another and share a wide-eyed and deep “AHHHHHH”. Osric grabs Spiros shoulders and looks at him face to face. “What are we going to do? That man is definitely not normal; we have to be ready for anything. Do you have my back?” Before getting a reply Osric frantically leans over and yells again at the man. “Hey! You come up here I’m gonna kick the shit out of you again!”
Thump. Thump. Spiros grabs a spear from the corner. Thump. Thump. The man reaches the top of the ladder. His hand reaches into the stand to pull himself out.
“Oh no ya don’t!” Osric plants his foot right into its face to try and force the man to fall while yelling “Please forgive me!” Osric stomp his boot on to the man’s head over and over but the man holds tight.
Thwunk. Thwunk. “Osric, stop.” Thwunk. Snap. “Osric, stop!” The man’s neck breaks under the pressure. His body begins to slide out of the entrance hole, but his broken leg is caught between the rungs so it wedges him between the top of the ladder and the entrance.
“Gods, what have you done?”
Osric looks visibly shaken. He stops and looks at Spiros with tears welling up in his eyes. Osric is reliving horrid events in his mind from when he was younger. “Spiros... I... I don’t know how to explain.”
Spiros puts down the spear then grabs Osric by the shoulders, pulling him inwards and away from the ladder. It's a little awkward due to the difference in height. "Osric, it's gonna be okay. Something was clearly wrong with him, and it's our job to stand our ground. " He pats his shoulders lightly, " It's going to be- Holy shit!" Spiros pulls away quickly and Osric hears the stirring behind him.
The pallid man has fully pulled himself into the stand. His head flops limply over his shoulders as he fails to stand. "I'm so hungry-y..." His distended head moans. The man trips over himself each time he tries to put his weight on his broken leg. "I need... to eat." He reaches for Osric, the skin on his hands is torn but not bloody.
Osric grabs his shield and attempts to push on the freak off the tower, but he is so perturbed by the situation that he is unable to make them move. The man tries to paw past the shield, but Spiros thrusts into him with his spear. The spear sticks into the man’s shoulder, but he hardly reacts. The man’s eyes stare deep into Osric’s as he plies his psycho fingers limply against Osric’s shield and armor.
Managing to draw his sword and holding back the abomination on his shield, Osric hacks down between the neck and shoulder while Spiros jabs again with his spear. Again, the man doesn’t react to the wounds, yet instead he turns towards Spiros and lunges with his good leg only to land on the floor of the stand.
Osric moves into position like an executioner and takes his sword and cleaves at the creature’s neck, splitting the man’s neck and severing his head. The body goes completely limp, lying motionless. The stand is quiet except for the howl of the wind and growing cawing of crows.
“Oh shit. Shit!” Spiros shouts out of breath, “What hell did that come from‽ What is going on‽”.
Osric, a little winded, looks at Spiros. “That appears to be some sort of zombie, but that man definitely did not chew through a grave. Bad thing about zombies from what I understand is... it is never just one.” Osric composes himself and looks at the corpse on the floor. “Decapitation... Might need to find an axe instead of that spear, friend.” Osric looks out of each side of the tower before staring into the city and finally donning his heavy coat. Grabbing its pair, Osric tosses Spiros his own coat over his shoulder. Osric grumbles, “Suit up”.
Spiros starts grab his pack and gear. “What should we do with...” He waves his hand in the air towards the body.
Both guards notice it at the same time. The head is moving, wobbling; its face is pointed away from them. Spiros slowly nudges it with his spear, turning it around to reveal the face is moving. Eyes dart back and forth between Osric and Spiros. The mouth and expressions appear to show the face is trying to speak or yell, but no sound is produced.
Osric lets out, “Uhhhh? Oh boy... Let’s throw the body down into the street and set it on fire when we leave. Let’s take the head to the watch commander as proof. Let’s look for a bag. Something to put it in so it can’t harm us.”
“I’m not carrying that.” he throws an extra cloak at you. Spiros pulls the body towards the railing, keeping his eyes on the animated head.
Osric wraps up the grisly head carefully in the cloak. Finishing the task by tying the cloak up so tight the head can’t move its mouth. Once done Osric helps Spiros with throwing the body down. Clearing enough of an area so the fire won’t spread they grab a torch and set the body aflame. The two watch the cremation carefully. Spiros whispers, “I swear, it looks like it’s still twitching.”
“Keep alert, lets head to the Captain.” Osric hangs the wrapped head to hang off his belt
Spiros sighs at the burning body, “Man, Gemma and Druarch are going to be so pissed.” The thought hadn’t crossed Osric’s mind until now, the watchguards who take the shift after you.
Once the body is mostly ash, the two begin to head to town. Walking with the chilling wind and their backs to the forest they hear the crows rise in a frenzy. The entire murder takes off from the trees flying south over the city showing their full numbers. Thousands of crows caw and squawk as if fleeing something hiding beyond the trees. The feel of the head squirming against Osric’s leg makes this silent walk seem like eternity.
“I’m sure they will have some questions about a burned headless body and blood in the tower... but if they do then that means things haven’t gotten worse so let’s count on it.” Osric gazes up at the cloud of birds with mouth agape. Feeling the head squirm, he gives it a smack. “Quiet down in there,” he looking at Spiros for approval at his joke.
"Yeah." Spiros adds solemnly, making no reaction to the attempt to lighten the mood. The walk to the city is long and cold. Not long into the silence, it begins to snow.
Soon, Osric walks outside and locks his door. The mewing of ocean birds over nearly covers the crunching of his boots as he takes the gravel path into town. Osric smiles and greets the usual citizens along the way, as typical for his morning routine. However, not too far into his journey there is a scuffle between two men ahead on the road.
“Get off me, you drunk!” The man pushes the other who staggers to the pavement. The first kicks at the other before storming off. but do not pick him up. Osric quickens his step to catch up to the scene.
“Hey. Get up,” Osric kicks at the man’s foot to barely any reaction, merely the return of a small grunt. His breath is shallow and he reeks of vomit and garbage. The vagabond’s eyes are closed, sunken, and dark. Osric imagines he’s likely another fool high on the illicit drug that’s been getting around the city lately.
Osric looks around to see if anybody nearby is accompanying the man, but what onlookers were nearby have dispersed and his arrival. He makes eye contact with an old man watches above from a window who shares an unconcerned shrug with Osric. Hoping to find any kind of identification on the unconscious man, Osric begins to look over the man’s belongings. The man on the ground wears loose, torn clothing with little to hide. He isn’t carrying any pouches or containers, and when Osric touches his pocket, he releases a black sludge that pours onto the ground.
The acrid smell horrible and causes the old man to groan and shit his window. Osric can tell it’s some kind of fermented paste, and based on the rumors, likely involved in the creation of that new drug. If Osric hadn’t already seen the low shifting of his breath anyone would have thought he was dead.
Osric kicks again and pours some water from his waterskin onto the apparently comatose man in one last attempt to wake him. He makes no reaction, but the addition of water has made the fermented smell magnified. His nose starts to burn from the acrid fumes and the overwhelming stench nearly causes him to miss a familiar voice.
“Oh, Lords beyond! What have you done, Osric?” Turning down the road, Osric sees his good friend and fellow watchman, Spiros Falka. The dwarf approaches plugging his nose and grinning. “Don’t you have an outpost to man? Should you really be playing around with gutter rats?”
The street is starting to empty further due to the stench, leaving Osric and Spiros alone with the reeking man. Spiros is a typical dwarf who stands to a height just below Osric’s chest. His light, fair hair barely contrasts at all against his olive toned skin. His grass-stained sleeves billow out from beneath his leather breastplate.
“Hey Spiros! You know me, I like to kick em’ when they’re down. Well, at first it was a nudge to get him up but then that sludge came out and I got carried away. Where are you headed from, Spiros? You don’t live down this side of town now, do you?”
With his free hand Spiros pulls out a small box and shakes it, “Just stopped off near the docks and picked up some fish bait.” The contents rattle inside, “What do you say we move on and head to our post? This smell is killing me.”
“Agreed. Let’s get going.” The two continue north along the street leaving the putrid man behind.
After passing underneath the North Gatehouse, Spiros asks, “There’s been a lot more of those gutterlings recently, huh? There’s one banging the wall out my window last night. Not saying anything, just bang... bang... bang. Near about speared him.” He chuckles, “You heard any rumors?”
“I haven’t heard anything new or interesting. You?” Osric shrugs and kicks a stone on the side of the road, “That sludge is pretty damn weird though. I don’t like it. Have you heard if the Captain is planning on finding the dealers?”
“Hmm, a few. Only two good ones though, nothing about that stuff.” The men finally reach the ladder to their wooden guards’ tower outside the city. Spiros speaks up while ascending the ladder, “More interesting first; heard around town there’s a Tower Mage staying in Korci. Odd lady by the sounds of it, goes everywhere with some little badger. Hearsay is she’s with some big bruiser, though I’ve also heard he might be a mage too.”
Osric follows Spiros up the ladder, “That’s interesting. Wonder why they are in town. We have anybody officially keeping an eye on them?”
“Not that I’ve heard. Based on how much we get paid, I don’t expect the city to pay someone to stalk a lady. I say leave her be, folk like that leave behind a good story. Besides that, there’s the other rumor.” Spiros, now leaning on the railing, points towards Osric and wags his finger in emphasis, “You remember Cyrene, right? The goldsmith down in south quarter? Well she told me, that her supplier told her, that the little mining village that she buys from has up and vanished. Well not the buildings and stuff, but all the villagers are missing.”
Spiros waves his hand through the air and wiggles his fingers. “Odd, isn’t it? Some little nowhere hole in the earth up north ways. Sounded like the suppliers where the only ones to ever really head out there. Cyrene couldn’t even remember the name.”
Osric looks uncomfortable for a moment. The village sounds too similar to his old home. He steadies himself and looks out from the tower to the soggy lands below. “Yeah, I remember her. It is a bit unnerving. If it was bandits there would have been signs left. Sounds like they all just wandered off into the woods...”
Spiros agrees silently and most of the morning passes by slowly. After a few hours, Spiros is pacing around the stand, “Shouldn’t we have seen a caravan or something come through by now. We’ve had slow days before but this isn’t normal.”
“You’re very right Spiros. This is troubling. I think someone should go back into town to tell the watch commander. This isn’t right; the forest is eerily silent.”
Spiros agrees that someone should go update the watch commander and kindly lets Osric volunteer. Osric climbs down and starts the long walk back towards Korci’s gate. Only a few minutes pass before he hears the hurried sounds of a horse and carriage. Osric turns around to catch the carriage blast past the tree line. Black horses move at a quick canter and the driver, bundled tightly in dark wools, conceals their face. The driver appears stiff in the rigid way he controls the reigns. While Osric has little experience with horses, he determines these creatures look exhausted. The carriage passes by faster than Osric can keep up, failing to see through the drawn windows to see any occupants.
Osric starts running down the road back to town practically chasing the ominous carriage. The horses pull away past the gate and out of sight within seconds. Instead of continuing to chase after them, Osric resolves to stay on task and find his commanding officer. Now that it is nearly midday, the streets of Korci are bustling with activity. Men and Dwarves crisscross the thoroughfare like any other day in Korci. Vendors peddle their winter crops with gusto and a rather portly dwarven woman shouts above the crowds about the superior quality of her woven baskets over her ‘homely, no good’ competitor’s ‘down on Roff Street’.
Three blocks into town, Osric turn off the main thoroughfare onto Black Lane where the North Guardhouse is located. A group of children are clustered bear the bottom of the guardhouse steps. Three boys, two humans and a dwarf, are teasing a human girl about something Osric can’t make out from the distance. One boy pushes the girl down and they all run away laughing, leaving the girl to pull herself up and furiously chase after them.
With the children far outside of his reach, Osric climbs the short steps through the threshold and alerts the building to his arrival. “Guardsman Dracht, entering.”
Answering the call, North Commander Eulis steps into the room. The dark-haired, clean-shaven man is tall and broad with muscles honed over years of service. “Osric, is there something to report?” He asks, clearly surprised by the early arrival. Osric explains the lack of travelers he experienced with Spiros along with the sole carriage that fled into town. Eulis nods, taking the story in and calls for a page to enter. After the young trainee arrives the Commander explains, “I just received a similar description from the West Commander. That was good initiative from you, and I appreciate being able to corroborate with the other commanders.”
Eulis instructs the page, “Please transpose this and have it shared with the other guardhouses. Osric, I’ll have Guardswoman Rosdahl investigate the carriage you mentioned. Go ahead and return to post and have Spiros deliver the evening report. Dismissed.”
Osric salutes North Commander Eulis and exits back into the street. The children that were outside are nowhere to be seen or heard and the clouds are growing darker. ‘Is a storm coming in?’ Osric sighs, ‘It’s going to be a long day.’
Osric looks down from the sky in time to notice the patchy haired man step out of the shadows. He stops a few feet short of Osric and yanks at his sleeve, “Hey? You know ‘Tee’, don’cha? You think you could introduce me?” The man twitches his lips and exudes an odor that, while not as strong as the morning’s nasal assailant, is still quite offensive.
Osric steps back, he’s heard this street slang at the bar from the other guards before. ‘‘Tee’ probably means Tar’, he thinks, ‘that new sticky, black drug’. The junkie looks you up and down expecting an answer, oblivious to Osric’s position in spite of his armor.
“No, I do not know “Tee”. Get on your way.” Osric swings around the stranger as much as the narrow street allows all while keeping the man in view.
Osric is almost able to step back onto the main street, but the man tries to grab at his arm. Osric pulls away before contact and the man is distraught, “Hey! No, I need s- I need to meet ‘Tee’!”
Looking over the junkie’s shoulder, Osric views the commander’s page skip down the guardhouse steps and start in the opposite direction, unaware of the confrontation. “Don’t try to touch me,” Osric warns. He backs up slowly, glancing between the addict and the page in the distance making mental notes where he might be off to.
The guttlerling reaches for Osric again but trips on a loose brick. Osric takes the opportunity to quickly back out of the street and onto the thoroughfare. He curses when he sees Osric getting away, “Shit!” He kicks and swipes at the wall. “Damn it. Damn it!” His voice trembles with anxiety.
Osric feels a blast of cold wind as he turns the corner onto the thoroughfare. It appears the shift in weather has affected the crowds as the street is emptier than when he came through before. It’s a long walk back to Spiros, trudging directly into the wind. Osric pulls some of the under wraps up out from behind his banded mail to block his face. ‘Thankfully there are some cloaks at the watch stand.’
After the long walk back out to the station north of town, Osric reunites with Spiros. “Ev’ry thing go alright?” He asks.
“Yeah, Captain said he will look into it. Said that the other guardhouses reported the same thing. I saw an odd carriage flying down the road too. Told him about that. On the way back, a junkie tried to grab me, but I slipped him. So,” Osric smiles, “I guess it was a bit eventful.”
"Yeesh,” Spiros adds, “it’s been getting pretty bad with those gutterlings. Things have been more of the same here. There is that though...” he points above the tree line. “Started showing up just after you left.”
Osric notices the tremendous number crows perching in the tree tops. He must have not heard them over the wind. Thousands of black birds fly over the forest, in and out of sight. While the two watch the birds, Osric spies a human figure creeping into sight along the tree line. It’s difficult to make them out, but he can see the person struggle from tree to tree from the east, slowly making their way towards the road. Their movement reminds him of the way the gutterlings stagger while on their drugs. Spiros doesn’t seem to notice.
Osric puts his hand on Spiros’ shoulder and points to the person in the distance. “Shit seems real... odd, Spiros. We need to stay together. Don’t leave my side until we figure out what is going on. This is unnatural. Might be my mind playing tricks, but... I don’t think it is”.
Spiros nods when the figure falls prone into the road. It hesitates for a moment and slowly pulls itself up and turns to walk down the path towards the city. The figure is about 200 yards way now, and slowly staggering forwards.
Looking off the rampart Osric side eyes Spiros, “Know anything about zombies?”
“About what?” Spiros replies not taking his eyes off the person, half out curiosity the other of disgust.
Osric lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Ah I’m sure it’s nothing. Bed time stories meant to scare children.” Osric shifts into a lie to hold back the emotions building up inside him.
The figure walks slowly along the road. As they get closer to the stand, the men make out more details: a masculine build in old, unkempt clothing; short dark hair and pallid face; injured hands and feet seemingly from his collision with the earth. Just as he is nearest to the stand Spiros let’s out, “Aw, shit. Look at this guy.” Reacting to the words the man turns his body towards the stand and looks up at both guardsmen. Just barely audible over the icy wind and crows they hear him wheeze back, “Hun... gree...”
Osric whispers to Spiros, “Did that guy just say... hungry..? You heard that, right? Spiros?”
The man starts to take a few steps towards the stand. "Uh, yeah. That's what it sounded like. Think we should help the guy? Looks like he's pretty banged up."
“No! I mean, just wait. Don’t go down there just yet.” Osric leans over the railings to get a better look at the guy below. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The man looks into Osric’s eyes and seems to consider the answer for a moment. He breaks eye contact and looks around at the ground and focuses on something beneath the stand and staggers out of sight, ignoring the call.
“Hey!” Osric jumps back from the rail and nods to Spiros. “I’m going to try to get a look under the tower. Get ready.” Osric lays down on his stomach and slides to the ladder opening to look under.
The hungry man come into view, dragging his feet until he touches the ladder and looks up at Osric. His orbits are dark and bruised, but his eyes have a sharp brightness to them. He stares at Osric and stands still, wrapped by the freezing wind, until he begins to climb the ladder.
“Stop! If you come up here, I’ll… I’m going to kick the shit out of you.” Osric pulls himself to his feet and tries to calm his rising heartbeat. Nevertheless, the pallid man ignores Osric’s demand and continues to climb. Soon, he reaches the top and struggles to climb into the stand. As promised, Osric stomps the intruder's head causing him to lose his balance and slip from the ladder. He silently falls to the ground below.
The pair of guards both look down the hole and see is broken his leg and quiet groaning. His eyes are closed and one hand barely holds its grip on the bottom ladder rung.
"Shit, Osric." Spiros exclaims raising an eyebrow, "That might have been a bit much, don't you think?"
“Nope, no sane person would try to scale a guard tower. I told him what would happen if he came up here and he was undeterred. I’m not letting a man that’s whispering ‘hungry’ into close quarters if I can help it.” Osric looks down below to the man feeling a little upset that he had to kick him down but is still firm in his belief he did the right thing
The pallid man starts to stir in the dirt, then uses his grip on the ladder drag his body nearer to it. Slinging his free arm over his body he grasps the ladder with both hands to pull himself up. Soon he is not only standing on his good leg, but is once again climbing the ladder. His limp, broken leg batters against each rung on the ascent.
Osric and Spiros look to another and share a wide-eyed and deep “AHHHHHH”. Osric grabs Spiros shoulders and looks at him face to face. “What are we going to do? That man is definitely not normal; we have to be ready for anything. Do you have my back?” Before getting a reply Osric frantically leans over and yells again at the man. “Hey! You come up here I’m gonna kick the shit out of you again!”
Thump. Thump. Spiros grabs a spear from the corner. Thump. Thump. The man reaches the top of the ladder. His hand reaches into the stand to pull himself out.
“Oh no ya don’t!” Osric plants his foot right into its face to try and force the man to fall while yelling “Please forgive me!” Osric stomp his boot on to the man’s head over and over but the man holds tight.
Thwunk. Thwunk. “Osric, stop.” Thwunk. Snap. “Osric, stop!” The man’s neck breaks under the pressure. His body begins to slide out of the entrance hole, but his broken leg is caught between the rungs so it wedges him between the top of the ladder and the entrance.
“Gods, what have you done?”
Osric looks visibly shaken. He stops and looks at Spiros with tears welling up in his eyes. Osric is reliving horrid events in his mind from when he was younger. “Spiros... I... I don’t know how to explain.”
Spiros puts down the spear then grabs Osric by the shoulders, pulling him inwards and away from the ladder. It's a little awkward due to the difference in height. "Osric, it's gonna be okay. Something was clearly wrong with him, and it's our job to stand our ground. " He pats his shoulders lightly, " It's going to be- Holy shit!" Spiros pulls away quickly and Osric hears the stirring behind him.
The pallid man has fully pulled himself into the stand. His head flops limply over his shoulders as he fails to stand. "I'm so hungry-y..." His distended head moans. The man trips over himself each time he tries to put his weight on his broken leg. "I need... to eat." He reaches for Osric, the skin on his hands is torn but not bloody.
Osric grabs his shield and attempts to push on the freak off the tower, but he is so perturbed by the situation that he is unable to make them move. The man tries to paw past the shield, but Spiros thrusts into him with his spear. The spear sticks into the man’s shoulder, but he hardly reacts. The man’s eyes stare deep into Osric’s as he plies his psycho fingers limply against Osric’s shield and armor.
Managing to draw his sword and holding back the abomination on his shield, Osric hacks down between the neck and shoulder while Spiros jabs again with his spear. Again, the man doesn’t react to the wounds, yet instead he turns towards Spiros and lunges with his good leg only to land on the floor of the stand.
Osric moves into position like an executioner and takes his sword and cleaves at the creature’s neck, splitting the man’s neck and severing his head. The body goes completely limp, lying motionless. The stand is quiet except for the howl of the wind and growing cawing of crows.
“Oh shit. Shit!” Spiros shouts out of breath, “What hell did that come from‽ What is going on‽”.
Osric, a little winded, looks at Spiros. “That appears to be some sort of zombie, but that man definitely did not chew through a grave. Bad thing about zombies from what I understand is... it is never just one.” Osric composes himself and looks at the corpse on the floor. “Decapitation... Might need to find an axe instead of that spear, friend.” Osric looks out of each side of the tower before staring into the city and finally donning his heavy coat. Grabbing its pair, Osric tosses Spiros his own coat over his shoulder. Osric grumbles, “Suit up”.
Spiros starts grab his pack and gear. “What should we do with...” He waves his hand in the air towards the body.
Both guards notice it at the same time. The head is moving, wobbling; its face is pointed away from them. Spiros slowly nudges it with his spear, turning it around to reveal the face is moving. Eyes dart back and forth between Osric and Spiros. The mouth and expressions appear to show the face is trying to speak or yell, but no sound is produced.
Osric lets out, “Uhhhh? Oh boy... Let’s throw the body down into the street and set it on fire when we leave. Let’s take the head to the watch commander as proof. Let’s look for a bag. Something to put it in so it can’t harm us.”
“I’m not carrying that.” he throws an extra cloak at you. Spiros pulls the body towards the railing, keeping his eyes on the animated head.
Osric wraps up the grisly head carefully in the cloak. Finishing the task by tying the cloak up so tight the head can’t move its mouth. Once done Osric helps Spiros with throwing the body down. Clearing enough of an area so the fire won’t spread they grab a torch and set the body aflame. The two watch the cremation carefully. Spiros whispers, “I swear, it looks like it’s still twitching.”
“Keep alert, lets head to the Captain.” Osric hangs the wrapped head to hang off his belt
Spiros sighs at the burning body, “Man, Gemma and Druarch are going to be so pissed.” The thought hadn’t crossed Osric’s mind until now, the watchguards who take the shift after you.
Once the body is mostly ash, the two begin to head to town. Walking with the chilling wind and their backs to the forest they hear the crows rise in a frenzy. The entire murder takes off from the trees flying south over the city showing their full numbers. Thousands of crows caw and squawk as if fleeing something hiding beyond the trees. The feel of the head squirming against Osric’s leg makes this silent walk seem like eternity.
“I’m sure they will have some questions about a burned headless body and blood in the tower... but if they do then that means things haven’t gotten worse so let’s count on it.” Osric gazes up at the cloud of birds with mouth agape. Feeling the head squirm, he gives it a smack. “Quiet down in there,” he looking at Spiros for approval at his joke.
"Yeah." Spiros adds solemnly, making no reaction to the attempt to lighten the mood. The walk to the city is long and cold. Not long into the silence, it begins to snow.
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