Tragedy of the Dead

Dark, dank, and drowned in rain, the town sat, cradled in the breast of the surrounding hills like a baby in its mother’s arms. Miserable grey clouds blanketed the gloomy sky and showered the town and its muddy avenues in a torrential downpour. The stink of waste and mud poisoned the air. Echoes of the townsfolk voices could be heard, bartering, drinking, and arguing amongst the maze of buildings. Adrik observed the town from but half a mile away. He stood amongst the trees and examined the print on the muddy, slippery, slimy path before him. A trail of giant paw prints led towards the town. Adrik clutched his shield in his left gauntleted hand and drew his silvery blade with a shiiink, in his right hand. He began to follow the trail.

The beast, the foul creator of the prints was not within sight, it had vanished. All Adrik could do was follow. As the rain poured, it pittared and pattered on his shining steel armour. His face covered by a helm of cold metal; he is prepared for a battle. Adrik is taller than most, and wider than most, although his armour did its job in enhancing his size. Upon his chest plate, sat a symbol. A flaming human, with wings holding a black spot at its chest, sat engraved finely into the metal work. He was a Izeliam Warrior, which meant he would do his duty, no matter the consequences. He would destroy evil where it stood.

Squelch went the mud beneath his boots, howl went the wind has it whistled through the grate of his helmet. The town came closer and closer, creeping towards him as he trudged forwards. People moved and weaved in and around each other and distorted the tracks that Adrik now followed. The people of the town had not even noticed the footprints that led into the town via the main road. How had these people not seen it? How had they not heard it? How had they not seen the tracks? Like a tsunami, these questions flooded his mind. The people of the town, mostly dressed in ripped and raggedy mud-covered clothes parted and avoided getting close to a man with his sword drawn.

“An Izeliam Warrior” one voice whispered amongst the murmuring of the crowd.

“Why would one be here?” questioned another voice.

Adrik followed the prints and ignored the towns people. The Prints led into an alley. Rain cascaded down the sides of the walls as he moved into the cramped alley. He came to a silent halt, knelt down on one knee. He placed his fingers on the final print of the trail, he traced the foot printed and peered around. With a deep exhale, he stood once more, the creature was somewhere in this alley. Adrik would find it.

Reaching into a leather bag that sat strapped to his waste, he pulled out a small vile containing a purplish ooze. Examining the vile he launched it down into the alley. With a shatter the glass, ooze and a purple mist exploded forth and consumed the entire alley way before him. He smirked.

There it was.

In the purple smoke a set of yellow eyes glared at him. The potion had revealed it, it had been invisible. The glistening eyes began to move forward out of the mist. Adrik raised his shield and rested his blade atop it. He backed away slowly, methodically, he would not turn away from this fight.

The creature emerged from the smoke.

Its yellow eyes shone like gems from the pits of hell. Writhing and wriggling its many arms flayed. Its pearly white teeth filled a puss covered mouth. Snarling like a cornered wolf, it moved forward. Glistening black tar clumped together patches of matted fur all over its skinny, bone like form. It moved forward slowly, methodically, examining the man before it. This was a mutant, a demon of the deep, a creature of another realm, it was wrong, it was evil. It did not belong. Foul warm breath assaulted Adrik’s nostrils. Rearing its head that was but the pair of yellow pupilless eyes and a frightening set of gnarly teeth. It lunged forward. In a blink of an eye, the creature launched.

Smashing with a crash into the shield, Adrik began to slide backwards, towards the street, towards the people. His heart quickened, racing in his chest as if it were a charging stallion in battle. He pushed back with all his might, but his boots continued to slide in the mud. The creature plunged and reached its arms for him. He would respond with a cut from his blade. The creature would screech yet it still came.

The people screamed, boots slapped through the mud, yells carried forth the warning “DEMON.” The rain continued to pour. The creature had pushed him all the way into the street not. With a heaving grunt, Adrik stabbed, catching it in one eye. It writhed backwards, floundering and cowering. An inklike substance poured forth from the gushing wound. Adrik seized this moment. His heart slowed. His muscles pushed. Leaping into the air. The blade cutting through the air. This was it; he would kill the creature with one quick stab. He was wrong. With frantic frustration, the creature smashed its many arms into his side, sending him through the air. It slides, becoming caked in mud for several meters. The cold of soaked ground assaulted his body. With a sigh of pain, Adrik thought oh damn, that hurt.

Slowly clambering to his feet, dazed and winded, he spotted his shield had fallen a distance from him, and his sword had fallen between him and the creature. The creature had steadied itself, black blood still poured from its once glowing eye. Here we go thought Adrik. Both Adrik and the creature lurched forward. With a slide Adrik skidded under the beast gripping his weapon and clutching it with two hands. The rushing creature stampeded past Adrik and turned to face him once more. The Izeliam Warrior pointed his blade towards the creature. They began to circle one another. Circling, staring, hating, the two entities continued to move. The townsfolk had all put scattered, and the busy street had become Adrik’s quiet hunting ground.

Adrik moved his left hand from the hilt of his blade and placed it on the symbol upon his breast plate. “Izeliam” he prayed, “hear my prayer, give thee, thy flame to vanquish this monstrosity of the abyss.” Adrik’s gauntleted hand began to buzz and quiver as a roaring flame exploded forth from it. Gripping his sword with two hands once more, his silvery blade became engulfed in raging blackened flame. Hmmm, my flame is black now. Adrik puzzled to himself.

The creature had watched every action Adrik had made. It was now its turn. With a startling screech, black mist surrounded it, this mist sat upon on it as if it were ink in water. Adrik charged. The creature charged.

The creature sent three of its arms at Adrik, with a crackling fiery swoosh, Adrik severed those limbs from the beast. It struck at him again, again and again. Adrik dodged or sliced the gruesome, grim, ghoulish limbs.

Grunts and screeches consumed the air. The stench of burnt flesh and old irony blood polluted the world around them. The creature reared back for one final blow; Adrik pulled his blade back for one more blow. The people of the town had begun to watch from their windows, from street corners and from behind barrels and stalls. The rain seemed to stand still, as the two warriors battled with furious speed. Whack, the creatures remaining arms slammed into the chest plate of Adrik before he could respond. Stumbling back, the creature glared its teeth, now covered in black blood. Raising his free arm, the creature bit down upon him. Plate metal creaked and cracked as the creature began to crush his arm. Just as I planned. Thought Adrik.

Cool, collected and calm, Adrik brought is blade up with the power of a god slamming through and piercing the creature’s skull. Its eye flickered with a weeping sadness as it knew it was done. Crunch, his blade smashed through the opposite side of the beast’s skull. Its jaw released. It collapsed into a pile of tangled, bloodied limbs. It was dead.

Adrik collected his shield and sheafed his blade. Moving slowly back towards the creature, Adrik’s slowed, his breathing stabilised and became rhythmic once more. The townsfolk began to emerge from their hiding holes. Murmuring and chattering, “how did he defeat that thing?”

“What was that thing?”

“Why did it come here”?

“Thanks to the gods for sending such a hero.”

The crowd began to surround the twisted body. Adrik kneeled before his slain prey. Reaching out an armoured hand, he placed it upon the twisted diseased figure before him. The creature was still warm, inky blood still oozed; a faint murmur of a fading heart still thrummed. Adrik lay his hand upon the creature until the final beat then he whispered, “I did my duty, by Izeliam, I did my duty.”

He stood, with a clank of chink of steel armour. Surrounded by the townsfolk, they had made a circle around him and the blackened corpse. A large, wide, bulbous man pushed to the front. He wore much more expensive clothes than the rest, a curled moustache hugged his upper lip, and a small chunk of the days lunch loitered on his chin. Thinning hair rested upon his head and muddy brown eyes sat deep his fat face. “What is your name sir?” questioned the obese man, a cutting voice.

“Thy name is Adrik Stoneheart, a Warrior of Izeliam” stated Adrik through his helmet.

“Well Sir Stoneheart, it is not often we get one of you here, nor everyday we are defended from such a creature” the man paused to catch his breath, “please you must be rewarded, I am Mayor Wimbee, I will grant you a fine meal and many drinks to celebrate.

“No” cut in Adrik, the crowd stunned to silence. I did my duty! Thought Adrik to himself, the words repeating, again and again, over, and over in his mind.

His breath became quick, panting, he knew what was coming.

“Don’t be absurd, you must be rewarded, come now remove your helm and enjoy yourself, my towns hero.”

“I will not remove my helmet!” The crowd began to whisper and murmur.

Breathing hard, panting, beginning to sweat. I will do my duty! By Izeliam, I swore to destroy evil wherever it may be. He began to chant in his mind.

The man turned towards, the Warrior. “Why not, why would you want to hide your face?” The mayor raised an eyebrow and moved towards Adrik. “Why won’t you show your face sir?”

Panting, heart thumping, sweat pouring. Adrik chanted back to himself aloud now, I will do my duty! By Izeliam, I swore to destroy evil wherever it may be.

“Remove your helmet!” demanded the mayor.

Adrik, letting out a sigh, slowly lifted his helmet. The crowd moved in close. Adrik dropped the helmet with a crash to the ground, mud spluttered forth covering the feet of the surrounding people. His face revealed! He looked deep into the eyes of the mayor. The townsfolk gasped in shock, the mayor, startled took a step back. “You’re… You’re, Undead.” Stuttered the mayor. The mayors face changed, distorted by disgust, “burn him, get him NOW.”

“I will do my duty, I will rid the world of evil wherever in lurks, in the name of Izeliam!”

The towns people moved in on the Warrior of Izeliam… the man who saved them, the man who was Undead.

Cascading, exploding, engulfing in fire, the town sat, cradled in the suffocating embrace of the fire lite hills. Black thundering clouds loomed in a pouring sky, showering the town and its blood covered avenues in a colossal downpour. The stink of iron, blood and charred flesh poisoned the air. Echoes of cracking wood and collapsing buildings could be heard amongst the graveyard that was the town. Adrik observed the town from but half a mile away. He stood amongst the trees and examined the same print he had earlier that day. He sighed a sigh of relief, “I did my duty, I will rid the world of evil no matter the cost, for Izeliam.” Without a trace of guilt in his cold heart, he turned his back on the town and walked away.