Journey of the Dead (A Critical Situation)

Saratiana awoke on the cold floor of the village pub, the sweet stench of mead reeking from her dry mouth. Her head was heavy, her bag of coin light. To her left, the barreled chest of a dwarf rose and sank hesitantly, its resistance undoubtedly tied to the empty jug clenched in his meaty fist.

Little bastard better not have stolen my gold, Saratiana mused. She rose to her feet, brushing debris from her cloak. The half-elf reeled back her foot and gave the slumbering creature a swift kick in the ribcage.

"Dwarf! Get up! Where is my coin?!"

The dwarf shot up with a violent grunt.

"Whatter you implyin', warlock?!"

"I know how you little bas...hold now. How do you know I'm a warlock?"

"'Ardly a secret, you arcane folks always geta pint too deep and start bouncin' colors off the wall...the way you'ere tossin' coin, woulda though' you knew how to summon 'at too...Titi, innit?"

Saratiana pursed her lips and stared at the dwarf with mild annoyance. Titi, as she was known in her youth, was far too familiar a term for this dwarf to know. She must have been quite drunk indeed.

"Saratiana. And you are?"

"Hamlen. I ain' callin' ya Saratiana, 'at's more than I care to remember."

"I'm not surprised, given how your peo-"

"MY people?! Gods, ev'n the 'alf elves are a buncha pompous-"

"THEY LIIIIIVE! THE DEAD, THEY WALK AGAIN!"

Saratiana and Hamlen's bickering was cut short by a shrill cry tearing through the streets. The warlock and her dwarven companion craned their necks from behind the wall just in time to see a comely young maiden burst through the heavy pub door, mere moments from slipping out of her impossibly low-cut corseted dress. The two exchanged looks of concern and scanned the room for their weapons. Hamlen grabbed his axe, and Saratiana, a rapier, and the two rushed to the aid of the maiden.

Hamlen rushed to the door and held it closed with his burly body. The maiden seized the opportunity given to her and began to push the pub's sturdy wooden benches toward the entrance. Sensing her struggle, Saratiana joined in and helped the maiden to secure the entryway.

"What's all this, then? Did you just say that the dead are up and walking around?" A voice perked up from the back of the room.

The maiden turned her face toward the mysterious voice, staring wide-eyed into the darkness.

"Y-yes...I saw them...spilling forth from the cemetery. All headed in the same direction, as if they'd been called to."

"And just what direction was that, Gilliayna?" From the shadows stepped a tall, lanky dark-haired figure. As far as the others could tell, the figure was a human male. If his looks didn't give it away, his arrogant tone certainly did.

"They were coming toward town. They must be nearly here. We have to do something, please! Now is not the time for your cynicism, Roehan! "

"Didn't those Druids teach you anything? Can't you summon a tree to step on them or make them un-undead or something?"

"Oh for gods sake, Roehan, I can't heal the dead-- you know, you have become simply unbearable since the Thieves Guild booted you out and I'm just so sick and tired of your nonsen-"

"Oh, I'VE been unbearable? Okay, little miss one-with-nature, ever since YOU decided to just skip out to the forest and leave me here in town, you think you're too "attuned" to spend your days with me in my hut-- NOT that it was ever a problem for you before-"

A loud banging came from the other side of the pub's door. A bellowing voice forced its way through the chestnut frame.

"OY! LET ME IN! THIS IS MY PUB ANYHOW!"

"Terris!" Gilliayna gasped. "Hurry, we have to let him in!"

Roehan and Hamlen leapt to their feet and hurried the bench out of the doorway. A surly behemoth of a man squeezed through the doorway and tumbled onto the floor.

"Well, what are ya waitin' on?! Close the damn door! Don't ya know what's out there?!"

As Hamlen and Roehan scrambled to return the bench to its preferred spot, Saratiana turned toward the grizzly human.

"And what exactly is 'out there'?"

"The dead. They live. And they're headin' right for us. I swear I saw my auntie Sarya out there, gods rest her soul. Say, you're that half elf from last night...not much of your type 'round this way. Titi, innit?"

"Saratiana."

"The way you spend coin, I'd even call ya 'Your Highness'."

"Aye, wouldya believe 'at she 'ought I stole from 'er!" Hamlen exclaimed from across the room.

"HA! No need to steal when it's given away!" Terris let out a booming chuckle.

"Can we focus, please? There's kind of a crisis happening-"

"Oh, give it a rest, Gilliayna, just let the people talk-"

"Don't even think about starting in on me again, Roehan-"

The party's back and forth was interrupted by another loud banging coming from the other side of the door.

"I don't suppose we're expecting any more visitors?" Roehan inquired, a hint of foreboding laced within his tone.

The banging got louder, more violent, and then came to an abrupt stop. The group of five stood still, all with bated breath. As they focused on the door, a collective crash came from the shuttered windows set on each side of the pub. Gray, crippled bodies wormed their way through the gaping windowsills, and clawed their emaciated frames across the dingy pub floor, leaving broken bits of nail and bone in their trail. Without hesitation, Terris pulled a club from his belt and brought it down on the skull of the nearest corpse.

"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' ABOUT! COME AT ME, YOU LIFELESS SWINE! I HAVEN'T FOUGHT LIKE THIS SINCE I WAS A LAD!"

Terris leapt into the middle of the crowd of bodies, wildly swinging his club at every trace of decayed flesh. Hamlen, not wanting to be outmatched, followed suit and the two brutes laid waste to the bodies piling into the pub. As the dwarf and the barbarian congratulated each other, a final corpse climbed slowly into the building. Terris and Hamlen exchanged a look, and rose their weapons, preparing to eliminate their final enemy in tandem.

"Wait! Don't kill it!" Four shocked faces turned to face the young maiden Gilliyana.

"Are you daft, woman?" Roehan scoffed.

"Don't you see? It's not fighting back. I think...it's trying to go somewhere. Look, all the bodies were going in the same direction."

Though skeptical, the others stood back and watched the corpse crawl pathetically across the floor. It reached the back wall and began to scratch limply at a small, padlocked door.

"Terris...what's beyond that door?" Saratiana probed.

"The cellar. I was told that the Thieves Guild used to take passage through here, but that it'd been shut off since Sarandon was assassinated. "

Roehan chimed in. "You're half right, old boy. Truth is, the Thieves Guild always keeps their options open. Shall we see where our smelly little friend is headed? I have a visit to pay to some dear, old friends I suspect may know a thing or two. Nothing left here but old bones." Roehan scanned over the party, his eyes lingering on Gilliayna.

The reluctant adventurers exchanged uneasy glances. Terris stepped forth silently, careful not to step on the corpse trying desperately to get through the door. He unlocked the padlock, and pushed the door open, allowing his four companions to walk ahead of him.

The party descended into the darkness, dutifully following their decrepit guide dog.