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Flee...
SLAM! - The walls had finally fallen in, the insistent croaking of burning wood stopping as the crash brought silence for a couple of seconds, then the screams started, throat wrenching screams...
Hide...
They had made it through.... the screams were worsening, heightening to a ear shattering pitch as panic turned to stark terror. We were meant to have been safe. The first victim was grabbed, her coarse wailing aiding her not one inch as the hulking corpses drove her to the ground, feasting on her whilst she was still alive, her cries of terror slowly turned into sounds no person should ever have to utter. As her screams subdued, death taking her into mercy the real chaos ensued as the shambling corpses of the living dead saw the rest of the townsfolk, feral inhuman grins appearing on their rotting faces. The feast had begun...
Run.... RUN!
Craystor threw his halberd down and uniform off in a frenzied panic, sweat drenching his shirt beneath, the sigil of a guardsman on his uniform easily left behind in the blood soaked mud with the rest of the villagers he had promised to protect. Looking back to see a mother having her child ripped from her hands he turned and ran for the Western gate. The scene unfolding before him as he ran was that of a nightmare, down the alleys the zombies were feasting on human flesh, cries of pain and anguish drowned out by the ripping and tearing of limbs, he kept running...
Get to the gate... get out!
His fingers betraying his absolute stark terror, he failed to open the gate the first time with the keys authorised to him by the town council, fingers shaking and pasty white. Breathe.... Eyes set wide in terror he attempted to put the key to the gate once more, the heavy iron resisting his frantic tugging and turning at first, cursing and hissing in frustration his second attempt yielded success, the lock opening, the heavy hinges of the gate shrieking open matching the noise coming from behind him...
Get out..... lock it behind you...
Frantically working the lock once more he started to lock the gate behind himself, his back to the woods of Yew whilst he struggled with the unyielding gate. The screams grew nearer... frantic shouting and pleas of mercy heard from his friends, his colleagues his... wife? She was running just behind the rest of the townsfolk, modesty thrown aside as she ran in just her shirt and undergarments, cuts, scratches and worse covering her body like the rest of the townspeople.
OPEN THE BLOODY GATE!!
A chorus of screams and noise as the townspeople smashed up against the closed gate, Craystor on the other side with the keys watching their frantic frenzy as they claw and press up against the hinges of the gate, faces washed in fear and human anguish... Looking at his wife he see's she's holding one of the babies, her face sweaty and muddy yet still beautiful all the same with it's heart like shape outlined by auburn wavy locks of hair, but like the townspeople eyes frantic in fear as she watches her husband on the other side of the gate.. her lips moves, mouthing something incomprehensible, Craystor stares into her brown eyes then her lips trying to read her words..
You did this....
Her lips move over and over again repeating those putrid words... You did this.... you did this... She knew everything... what he had done in the village, his dealings with the others, his betrayals, the hooded stranger in red and more. He stared into her eyes, they suddenly widened in fear, the howling and shrieking soon send the villagers into a panicked chaos as children and the elderly were trampled to death as more and more of the villagers arrived shortly followed by the terrible horde of undead, bodies covered in blood and limbs from earlier victims... The villagers shouts and pleas for mercy grew louder drowning out all other sounds as the villagers at the back were slowly being devoured by the oncoming horde..
You did this....
Her lips uttered those final words... the undead were approaching her, the shouting and wailing of the towns people crescendoing to a animalismic roar of utter terror. Craystor did the only thing he could, dropping the key to the ground he saw his wife's face drop, her curses turning into shrieks of revulsion as the zombies came to her at last... he left them all to be eaten alive...
The longer they feed, the more time you have to get away
The last thing he heard before setting out into the woods were the frantic feasting of the zombies and terrified screams of townsfolk trapped with them. He left the town known as Abbeywood behind.
Craystor ran.
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The flickering torches cast a lingering shadow on the poorly lit basement as a soft breeze was felt, like tendrils; they crawled and slithered up the green slimmed mould covering the majority of the poorly constructed walls, the cracks in between letting rats in and out of their homes. The smell would be undesirable to most, however the lone figure sat in the gloom did not seem to mind it.
"Ah, Sammy, my pet... I think they suspect us..."
The figure caressed the creature in his hand absently, perhaps a stage too roughly as the rat lets out a pitiful squeak in protest that is sadly ignored by the figure in the dark, he continued his ministrations. The figure persists doing so as his head tilts slightly, looking at the oddly placed bookcase in the corner his mouth curves into a absent minded smile, rotten teeth revealed at the sides.
Months he had been there now, in the Village known as Blackwell. They had made him Captain, a role he knew would only cover his tracks for so long, the murders committed, the brutally dealt out by his hands and that of his men in secret and in public, he had acted too openly thinking that his rank would keep him safe. Not long now till they would come for him, the citizens of Blackwell..
"It's not fair my pet... the Mayor was meant to change everything.."
Hundreds of coins and countless of hours he had spend those days, ensuring that people voted for his chosen candidate, when coins did not work other methods were used, some with deadly consequences. This was not all, he ensured he was the one in charge of the ballots, doing the count, his men doing the actual paperwork to decide who won, even going so far to breaking the rules and voting in the Mayor a week early, all infornt of the people of Blackwell, and did they suspect a thing? Probably... but they could do nothing as power was shifted in a instant and his candidate was made Mayor.
"It all went wrong from there..."
First the brutal execution of Halla by my deputy, I can still recall her eyes, full of shock as the poisoned blade opened her throat, blood mixing with the pungent substance as her life was forfeit, feeling a moment of remorse I shot her in the chest to end her misery, that time too Derek was there though... Did he already suspect?
"Derek..."
I thought the promotion we gave him would bring him around, the trust we showed him, the more fool I was. Recently with the key I was given we went and found the house I had already checked previously, bringing Derek with me as a test on the second go. It was that of the dead Keres, one who haunts our town... Brianna. Gold, lots of gold was found in those chests, left unwanted I told Derek, I thought he bought the story, I thought I brought him that bit closer to my group of trusted people... the fool I was.
"Why Derek..."
The rat lets out a terrified squeak as the hands surrounding it stops caressing but rather squeezes with a slight tremble to its grip, the grasp tightening slowly on the creature as it claws at the hands constraining it.. Another panicked shrill squeak escaped the creature...
"Sammy.. I'm so sorry... oh Avatar... i'm sorry..."
We backed the wrong horse, the Mayor who was meant to be a puppet turned out to have more than just a candidate we chose to hide behind and use. Jarvis was the right choice... with him at least you knew his greed would take over any sign of compassion, but going to him won't work, not after we threatened him when our candidate won.. And now Derek has gone and told the Mayor everything about the coins missing.
"Isaac..."
He asked me to meet him, told me he knew of the stolen coins.. he... -demanded- that I return them. Has he lost his mind? The amount of gold I spend on getting him to this position and he treats me like a....disloyal dog. Derek had told him everything he said... The coins... the keys, everything.
"But we have a plan for Derek, don't we Sammy...?"
The figure leans over, kissing the rat softly on the head before the rat replies with a answering squeak that could in all honesty mean anything... Darkness soon settles in as the figure sits there, cooing softly whilst stroking the rats fur repeatedly...
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The downwards swing of the knife instantly penetrates the yielding softness of wood, the noise lets out a echo in the otherwise dark chamber, candles and torches fighting a losing conflict against the tendrils of darkness trying to consume them, soft incomprehensible cursing is heard, the soft hissing of a blade being pulled out as the figure in the dark places the dagger away.. The figure seems more pale than usual, his complexion haggard and drained, the rat sat on the table in front of him squeaks gently, perhaps in sympathy, or perhaps just because that is what rats do.
"Sammy..."
The voice sounds hoarse, depleted and flat, a slight hiss and phlegmish cough following the previous uttering of a name. The figure rasps a bit as he spits to the side, the sip of water more nourishing than any fancy meal as he takes the mug to his lips, draining the precious liquid...
"It was perfect... send a thief to capture a' thief"
It was as expected, the piles of coins, the abundance of armour and weaponry found in Jake's room was not the only things to prove his obvious guilt, scrolls of all kinds were found by my thief, not to mention the tools of a expert lock picker, trap removal kits, disguises, everything. One thing it all taught me however, never steal from another thief.
"Play them against one another..."
Which one to choose... Jake... or the other, plans within plans, it does not help that both could be loyal in their own way... as loyal as a master lock picker can be.
"At least we dont have to worry about Derek..."
His body is floating somewhere in the bay... no, thats a lie, turns out it was not as it seemed, not one bloody bit. I recall the knocking on the door, his face innocent as he entered my home.. after what he had done to me I considered stabbing him there and then, but my usual rage was far away, so I decided to do the unusual, I decided to listen...
"Ah Sammy, his explanation made sense... I sensed no lies..."
But I have been wrong before, haven't I? Sometimes I make mistakes, terrible mistakes.... But he was one of us now, whether he wanted to or not our Derek, he was there when the woman died, he was part of her final death rattle... he even joined in on the fun..
"Squeak!"
Your right Sammy, I was side tracking, as I was saying... I went to the Mayor to get the warrant for arrest, the tension I must admit between us was palpable, him questioning my motives, it scared me.. had he forgotten who placed him there...
"Squeak!"
"Your right... I did it again... sorry my love. So, as I said, I got the warrant."
What followed afterwards however was easy as I told Zanven, the new recruit, about the task that laid ahead of us. I knew he was friends with Jake, but his loyalty must always come to me before anything else, if not willing he at least did the job desired of him... Jake suspected nothing.
I thought he would break under normal circumstances as he had put himself in the deep end, his pleas for innocence broken bit by bit as both he and I knew his past, his offered services to me, he also I think suspected whether he had been guilty or not, we wanted a confession either way, but then as always, the unexpected happened..
"Hemrod...."
A loud ripping noise is heard as the figure stabs the dagger into the wooden table, first once, then again, then once more as a frantic pace takes over him, the rat barely avoiding the lethal blade, it's shrill Squeaks coordinating with the constant thrumming of the dagger penetrating the wood with each frenzied downwards motion.. The figure seems to be breathing rapidly, his already pale complexion covered in perspiration, drops trickling down his gaunt cheeks as he hisses for breath.
"So close..."
He let him go my love, he never said why, neither to myself, the deputy or Derek, he just... let him go... I had worked days to capture the culprit, we knew it was him, he knew it was him, but he somehow convinced the Sheriff otherwise...
"The Sheriff.."
Is not the first time he has ruined my fun... ruined my plans, but he will be dealt with accordingly, soon.
"Squeak, Squeak?"
Aye... thats why I took to the tavern, had some drinks... I.. I dont remember much afterwards, only feeling rage whilst I took to the bottle, the civilians sat there with their smirks and silent judgemental stares. I feel them sometimes, following me at night, shadows in the dark watching my every move, I must be careful my love..
"But it was not all bad...."
"Work... yes Sammy, there was work to be done..."
The figure carefully rips the dagger out of the wood, a soft smile on his lips, the upper parts curling backwards as the figures rotten teeth are revealed...
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Grand work!
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Drip.... drip...
The continuous pattering of rain echoed gently throughout the foundation of the poorly lit basement, the gentle squeaks of starving rats scurrying around the mud soaked boots of the figure that sat slumped on the stool, finger gently tapping against the wooden top of the table, a slight groove having appeared in the constantly abused surface as the finger continues its consistent percussion. The figure seems gaunt, cheeks hollow as the hood tilted back with the figures forward momentum, sunken dark eyes seeming to reflect, but upon what?
Splat... splat... drip... drip...
The blood from his hand mixed in softly with the ever present splatter of the rain, creating a soothing symphony of rain and blood. The figure turned his head to the side, previous glazed over eyes focussing in on the other two people sat silently in front of him, their expression neutral as they continued to hone either weapon infront of them, the figure on the left placing a new gut string to his on purpose dusty bow, the shine long gone to keep it less visible. The other character was absently coating a large dirk in a thick slimy substance, hands heavily covered in spined leather, the few droplets of the liquid missing the dagger creating a hissing effect as it touches the wood on the table infront of him...
"Calls himself Raven now..."
The first figure utters these words, spitting to the side absently before one of the people before him nods, the note in front of him displaying the name in writing, the letters horribly smudged
"Thinks he can get away with stealing from -me?!-
The words echo strangely in the small room, neither of the two present figures seem to react at this odd outburst, continuing to hone their weapons absently with a professional grace...
"You know what you have to do my dears..."
The two figures look to each other quickly, the stark silence as their preparations stop for one moment creating a unnerving echo in the complete silence... they nod before standing, barely making a noise as they strap their prepared weapons to the thick hide they both wear as protection, the small links of chain attached to it not even rustling as they make way towards the door going past the seated figure
"Make sure to bring the new one... she is still to be... blooded."
Both figures freeze momentarily as one has a hand clasped to the door handle, without looking back he hissed out silently
"Can she be trusted...?"
The laughter from the seated figure started to slowly overwhelm the small constrained room, the shaking of his visible mirth taking over fully as the two figures at the door shakes their heads before exiting, the figures last barks of hysterical cackling shut off instantly as the door slams after them once, loudly.
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It was nearly midnight in the forest, and the fog lay thick across the ground. The small village nearby was completely invisible, cloaked in the eerie sheet of mist, the near invisible tentacles stretching further and further as if reaching for something or someone. In the middle of the town, the church stood alone above the murk. There gleamed the light from which the village looked for reassurance. A soft hammer blow echoes gently as a figure replaces a poster with another, going from one building to the next covering each poster delicately with a new one, the soft crunching of paper easily deafened by the the constant thumping of his hammer, the noise echoing in the quiet sleeping village..
Movement.
Out of the corner of his eyes the figure see's another
"We need to talk..."
Closing the note the man looked up at his guest, nodding once before a small pouch landed gently on the table, the rattle of gold coins unmistakable. the guest scooped up the contents without any words, with a slight nervous tension he got up, nodded once and walked out of the damp cellar as the door slams softly behind him. Once more the crunching of paper is heard, similar to that of outside previously, yet this time there is no hammering to take away the ripping sound as the paper is crushed within the creatures hand, nails digging into it's palms as blood and paper mix with ease...
"Derek..."
Heavy breathing is heard as the figure's eye glaze over, his hand slowly releasing the crumbled blood covered note onto the table as he lets out a hiss of frustration.
"Second time can't be a coincidence..."
The man muttered to himself continuously, the words muffled as he grunted and cursed further, the note was forgotten as he stared at the wall, this he did all night till ever so something horrible occurred, his blank expression twitched, the corner of his lips curved upwards as a smile of some kind appeared on his hollowed face, the corners of his mouth revealing rotten gums and teeth as the smile widened and widened...
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The soft sound of cascading rain hitting the prison cell did little to relax the individual sat within it, every tiny drop making his face twitch, eyes widening to their fullest as he searched his small cell for any sign of a intruder. Nights chilled air blew gently through the small bars of the windows to the cell, with it however something else came, something from outside.
footsteps..
The soft slurp as mud dragged on boots made the man reach for his knife, the knife he had given up on his arrest. Finding only empty air, in his panic the man did the unthinkable, he started praying..
"Avatar, hear me, we both know I am not a good man, but it cant end like this, please.. for the love of god not like..."
The prayer was interrupted, a rough voice said softly the two words which the caged man wanted to hear..
"Bloody hands..."
It was one of his men.. or perhaps women.. sometimes it was difficult to tell them apart, especially in the imprisoned mans state, skin pale, hair graying and the subtle signs of a more than severe fever rampaging his flesh and body. Cold sweat clung to him like a rotten disease, however a smile spread slowly as the mans breathing started slowing, it was one of his...
"We found him, Captain, will he be needed for the trial?"
Him? Who were they speaking of... the man inside the cell was unsure, what order had he now given which he had forgotten... best not to act like he didn't know, always look to be in charge.. -always!-
"Make sure he does not show... afterwards do with him as you please.."
The figure nodded, his or her hood concealing what would probably be a rather large smile, some of the rain splattered off onto the cell window as the stranger re-arranged the hood to conceal their face fully once more. A slight hesitation in the persons voice was heard as it uttered the next question, the words softer than previous.
"...What of the first Watcher?"
*CRACK!*
The hooded stranger moved hastily backwards upon hearing the unmistakable sound of wood being punched by a unprotected hand... slowly if a bit warily it approached the opening in the bars again, looking at the place where the imprisoned man had hit with his hand, blood intertwined with the slightly dented wood, the strangers gaze going to the wounded if not broken hand of the caged man, he saw how the mutilated fingers were trembling..
Derek...
The prisoner hisses the name, a vocalization of hatred and strangely a mixture of admiration blended in together as he repeats the name over and over again... "Derek.." - Scratching his cheek the man gummed on his index finger in quiet contemplation. The hooded stranger seeing this gesture knew the best thing was to wait, patiently he looked around to ensure no one was watching him, looking back to the man he knew as Craystor Rake.
"I will need the books... from my office, you know the ones I speak of?"
Craystor Rake spoke these words, firmly trying to pronounce each small sentence for emphasis, his voice carrying also a dry hacking as he coughs after the sentence, the cough turning into a coughing fit as he bends over, dry rasping into his hand as the wretched cough takes over him..
"As you will, Captain... is there anything else?"
The Hooded stranger watches his master, with a silent shake of the head from Craystor the hooded creature disappears from view, silent footsteps echoing in the wind then suddenly becoming nothing as only the sound of rain descending on the prison can be heard. The man still trapped inside clamps his hands beneath his armpits for the little warmth it gives, eyes vacant as he just stares straight ahead. With night full in advance the sound of moaning walkers and the living dead could be heard over the rain, their sounds desperate, the shambling bodies pressing up against the great wall around the small town known as Blakwell. The sound oddly enough making the Captain smile a little as he ever so slowly falls into another fevered sleep...
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Banishment...
I still hear the words slowly creep up on me, the faces of both Hemrod and Derek perspiring from the lengthy court trial. then theirsudden jubilation as the verdict hit home..
Banishment...
"You are insane..."
Hemrod's words were true, insanity was the least of my worries when I left the safety of the walls, or even worse, the safety of my rank... I had been stripped and been found wanting by the very people I had tried to kill... Jake... Finn, their knowing smiles that I would be outside the safety of Blackwell, no position of power to hold them back, only the loyalty of my men.
"You will enjoy this more than I.."
The Sheriffs words as I finally got through his calm exterior, his fists lashing into me like anvils on the end of a carriage, each blow breaking bones, teeth and flesh, his rage was evident as I spewed forth my bile about him and his morals...he nearly killed me by choking my throat, my final breath near.. but he stopped.. barely. His self serving codes of justice. If only he knew the amount of times he could have been overthrown, my men were eager for me to throw him down and take his position. Not that I did not want his position, but a lot of people would die, noisily, he is not the type you will catch unaware at a drink or with a lady of the night...
"Never come back..."
Bruised and broken I was finally alone, the soft moaning of the shamblers closing in as they could smell the filth of my terror, both weaponless and weak.
I dont know how I found the safety of the house, I ran through the forest, the cursed moans and screams of shamblers trailing my every thought and footstep, every door seemed locked except the one.. I had finally found a safe haven, a place to call my own, a place to think.
"So, whats the situation now, boss?"
Hours later one of the few who had remained, so many had run, some even going as far as to fake their own deaths... They knew favors would be called in now, they did what all rats do when the ship is sinking... abandon. Her voice was a bit nervous, I told her the plan, another took her place.. then another.
A small week passed like this.. then it happened, the betrayal, the lack of decency as I started to get a hold of the situation once more, many of the rats returning seeing that little had changed, only the location that they had to find me to get their share of the coin, share of the little power that was left, and also the share of seeing me brought down like this... I could see on some of them the slight smirk as they took my gold, yet offering ... heartfelt.. apologies that they had been unable to be at the hearing.. or only been able to see me after a week.. I was fully aware what they were saying, but I kept a smile... they ould be replaced later, now it was not time for petty revenge, well.. not on those people..
"Derek.."
The name itself twists my gut leaving more than a sour taste, his betrayal could not be gone unpunished... This is not to say I was not proud of the little bastard, he had played a great game on me, he had done things most would even consider criminal too, but of course he attacked first, it was my trial, not his.. anything I could use against him would be dismissed by the templar in charge.. I could just watch his face.. a face soon that I would wear myself when I personally cut his scrawny little neck.
Knock knock..
The door is quietly opened, another one of my people had come in, this one a recent addition to the fold, guess not everyone was leaving me, finally I could sit back and relax... I greeted her pleasantly, her greeting was slightly different however, the hesitation that I took for fear was adrenaline instead, it happened so quick.. too quick
The agony..
As I laid there, my final moments of pure torment as the poison ran through my body, the irony of it ending this way, my thoughts were not ones of sadness, I knew the person would chop up my bodies to pieces afterwards, they would grant me that mercy at least. If it had been any of the others I am sure my masters would have called me back to live in anguish the rest of my non natural life... Perhaps it was a mercy, but at that time all I could think of was the pain as the poison crept through my bloodstream, my body on fire, my very veins boiling... till the very end..
This individual did not die quietly, nor with dignity, but what felt like many hours of anguish.. it just another dead soul in Blackwell
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