The Walking Dead in Faerun

by Syndrake

This is a retelling of the Walking Dead set in the world of Forgotten Realms. Guard captain Rillick Grimoire wakes from a coma to find the world ravaged by an undead apocalypse. Nearby, a small party struggles to stay alive as these terrifying new creatures stalk them. Can Rillick and the party survive the superior zombies and each other in this horrific new reality?

1. Days gone bye

Part 1. Days Gone bye

Prelude

The day was peaceful. Not a soul to be found, nor a sound heard except for the horse's hooves echoing quietly on the hard cobblestones of the overgrown path. A man was perched on top of the steed, seated comfortably in the saddle on it's back. He was deep in thought, almost tranquil as he swayed ever so slightly with the horse's own movement. The man wore a chainmail shirt and leather grieves and boots. draping over the horse's rump was a dark red cloak adorned with the crest of Balder's Gate showing his status as the captain of the city guard. Or at least he used to be before the plague.

He knelt down and patted the horse's neck. It's skin flinched at the surprise of his touch. It's been a while since she had a drink, he thought, she must be getting thirsty. His thoughts were interrupted by the smell of rotten flesh. Wrinkling his nose, He looked up to see a grizzly scene. He reached a small hamlet littered with dead horses, donkeys and oxen. Some were missing limbs or were disembowelled. He pulled his horse to a halt and climbed off it's back and tied the reins to a nearby tree slightly off the road. It seemed overjoyed as it began munching hungrily at the dry grass. He saw a labyrinth of broken and upturned carts and wagons in front of him. Some had missing wheels and even broken in half or in pieces. The flat, wooden houses stood eerily on either side of the tragedy in front of him, seemingly devoid of life. The gardens at the front that once grew many different roses and bushes now withered and overgrown with weeds.

After adjusting his cloak he began to move through the maze of wood. The ground was covered in broken glass and shattered mugs. As he passed the decomposing corpse of a horse on the ground, he noticed another. This time it was human. Her leg caught under the large beast, her skin dry and flaky with a grey colour showing she had been dead for a while Flies swarmed over her body hoping to catch a feast on her rancid flesh.

He continued to traverse the street until he saw what he was looking for. A stable. upon arriving to the doors, he saw a note nailed into the corroded wood. The note was difficult to read as the words were scribbled and messy, as if hastily written by an unsteady hand. He was able to decipher it after some effort. It read "OUT OF WATER. THE TROUGHS ARE DRY."

The guard let out an annoyed sigh. Looks like his faithful steed will have to go a few more days without water.

Just as he was planning his next move, he heard a sound. It was very quiet and only for a fraction of a second but it was unmistakable. The crinkle of a footprint stepping on the shards of glass. The guard's heart skipped a beat. He was not alone. He slowly turned around, unsheathing his longsword.

He stopped at a large wagon, one corner buried in the earth. He lowered and rested his head onto the ground and peered through the diagonal gap, his sword lying close to his leg. His eyes widened with excitement. There, on the ground covered with broken glass shards, were two small legs. The guard nearly started laughing with joy. Finally a human being. He has been alone for so long. As he composed himself he saw a hand reach down and grasp a small wooden doll and start walking out of view. The guard knew from the small arm and legs that it was a child. Her feet were bare and cut from the broken glass.

His watchman's intinct kicked in and he sprung to his feet and quickly made his way around the broken wagon. The girl's back was turned to him. The tips of long pointed ears protruded from Her long, mangled and messy, golden hair told him she was an elf. She wore a thin white robe made for sleeping and she was clutching the wooden doll in her hand which, as the guard could see, was that of a bear.

"Little girl?" He called out, trying to hide the beaming happiness behind a voice of authority. He lost count of how many days he's been alone.

The girl did not turn around. She continued to slowly dawdle in the opposite direction. He noticed her arms were cut and bruised and her legs were covered in dirt. He became concerned. This girl needed help, and a healer.

"Little girl?" He called again, this time a little louder. "It is ok, I'm a guard. You have nothing to fear. Little girl!"

The child stopped. The guard sighed with relief, and he prepared to greet her with a friendly smile.

As the small child turned around, the guard's smile instantly vanished. All the relief and happiness he had was sucked away into a void of pain and despair. The face he was greeted with was lifeless with cloudy, bloodshot eyes. One side of the mouth was peeled back to reveal decaying black teeth. The guard's heart sank as the creature made a throaty growl. This was a little girl once, but she wasn't any longer. Whoever she used to be had succumbed to the plague. The creature started moving towards him, gaining speed with each step.

The guard did not want to do it, but he knew he had to. Reluctantly he raised his sword above his head, shuffling backwards to keep a comfortable distance. When she got close enough he swung the sword down onto the creature's head. The sword stopped at it's shoulders and the halves of her head peeled apart like the bud of a flower opening. He yanked it upwards, freeing it.

The Creature swayed back and forth for a few seconds before falling backwards onto the cobblestone path with a thud!

The sun shone high in the sky above the bustling city of Baulder's Gate, Announcing it to be late afternoon. The streets were teeming with men, elves, halflings and dwarves as they went about their lives. In the merchants quarter, the Captain of the Guard and his friend and fellow comrade sat on the steps outside a butcher shop, a piece of opened parchment between them containing hot baked potatoes and roast boar. Their horses tied to a nearby post a few feet from them.

Rillick sat in silence as he watched the civilians shuffle about the different shop stands placed evenly apart in front of him, items and gold being swapped and the raised voices of disgruntled hagglers. Even though he was on break, he always remained vigilant. Especially in the Merchants Quarter, where the thieves guild were known to be.

"What is the difference between men and women?"

Rillick jumped slightly at the sound of his partner's voice cutting his focus. Shaking off the initial shock he turned to his friend with a smirk on his face.

"Is this a jest?" He asked.

Shaan shook his head as he turned his head to face Rillick. "No, I'm serious!"

Turning his head forward Shaan ripped a piece of meat from the bone of his boar before continuing.

"Never met a woman who knew how to blow out a candle. It's like they are born to believe that a candle can never be snuffed under any circumstances. They're struck blind the moment they exit the room. Every woman I let into my house, Helm be merciful, it's like I come home and my house is on fire."

At this point Rillick went back to watching the commoners. Shaan had a tendency to be rather vocal about sex, race and even religion. Something Rillick learned to tolerate by letting him say his piece and not listen much.

"My job, you see, apparently," Shaan continues, "because I have common sense unlike our other-gendered friends, is I have to walk through that house and gather up every single candle this wench left lying around."

"Is that right?" Rillick muttered, watching, with amusement, as a halfling tried to sell an uncomfortable looking old worthless chair.

"Indeed, my friend." He laughed, shoving the last quarter of potato into his mouth. "Oh High Priest Shaan preaches to Lady Chautea, good sir."

"Then... Then the same wench, mind," he lamented, mouth full of potato, "she'll bellyache to you about safety hazards. You see, this is when High Priest Shaan wants to call upon the powers of Kelemvor and say "love, perhaps you and all of the other of your kind upon this great land realise that if the small flame can, you see, be extinguished, we can prevent such tragedies!"

"Did you really say that?" Rillick asked, turning his head from the amusing sight before him, now a little more curious.

"Sort of." Shaan sighed. "In a more careful choice of words."

There was a short silence before Shaan bursts out laughing. "Still, I tell you, that earns me this look of loathing you could never imagine. Then, I swear, she turns into some kind of Divine Champion."

Deepening his voice, he extended the full length of his arm in front of him and pointed at nothing. "you sound like my father! Always yelling at me about losing the damn lanterns and telling me to blow out the bloody candles!" he shouted, making dramatic gestures with his hands.

"And what, may I ask, did you say to that?" Rillick asked, chuckling.

Shaan ended his theatrical performance and shifted his weight to face him.

"I know what I want to say." He grumbled, as if defeated. "I'd say look. Are you telling me that you've been hearing this your entire life and you are still too stupid to learn how let out a small gust of wind from your mouth?"

Rillick was now focused fully on Shaan's comedic ramblings. His body shook as he tried to hold back as much laughter as he can, keeping himself modest.

"But, of course, I didn't actually say that." He continued.

"I would hope not. That would be disastrous."

"Precisely. Instead I go for the... Diplomatic approach."

Rillick nodded slowly. Grinning. "Ah, very wise my friend."

"Indeed. Indeed."

Shaan trailed off into a silence. His goofy smile disappeared to be replaced with a solemn frown. After a while Rillick's smile soon vanished as well.

They both sat at the steps of the butcher's shop in an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like an age. Rillick knew what was going on in Shaan's mind and dreaded what would inevitably come next.

"So... How's things going with Lorelai?" Shaan's words were shaky and awkward.

His words hit Rillick like an arcane force of pure energy. He managed to avoid this conversation thus far, but it was only time before it would surface.

"She is well." He searched for the words, stumbling over each one. "Good with candles. In fact she's good with candles, lanterns, all light sources. Quite incredible. In fact, I'm the one who forgets sometimes."

He looked up with a cheerful grin, trying to lighten the mood. His empty smile was greeted with Shaan's serious, gloomy expression.

"That's not what I meant." Shaan said, annoyed.

Rillick silently cursed Shaan for bringing this up. For ruining the day and his peace. He also thanked him for forcing him to talk about this, to get it off his chest. It was starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Better get this over with, he thought.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows onto his knees, and looked at his feet.

"We didn't have a very good night."

He felt Shaan's hand on his shoulder. "Look." He said. "I may have failed to amuse with my chant of-" He thought for a moment, "whatever that was, but I did try. The very least you could do is speak."

Rillick laughed mockingly. "That's exactly what she always says!" He exclaimed, more aggressive than he would've liked, "Speak!" He almost yelled it straight at Shaan. Then he became quiet again. "Speak."

He felt Shaan's hand gripping tighter onto his shoulder as tears started to form in his eyes.

"Do you express your thoughts?" Shaan asked gently, "Share your feelings and so on?"

Rillick's hands knotted and weaved amongst each other as he fought back the tears. He was the guard captain, he couldn't allow himself to look weak.

He took a deep, shaky breath. "The thing is," He answered, swallowing hard, "lately, whenever I try and whatever I say just makes her more impatient, as if she didn't want to hear it after all. It's as if she's angry at me all the time and I have no idea why."

He watched a single tear escape, roll down his face and fall onto the stone ground. He looked at the ground at his feet. In a monotone voice he spoke.

"Do you know what she said this morning?" Shaan shook his head. Even though he couldn't see it, Rillick knew. "'Sometimes I wonder if you even care at all'."

Shaan inhaled sharply between his teeth, making a hissing noise. There was a pause as Shaan took in what he said. But what Rillick said next took him even more off guard.

Rillick gritted his teeth. "She said that right in front of our child." He said, his voice gathering a gravelly tone. "Just imagine seeing your tutors with that in your mind."

Shaan's eyes widened with shock. He felt like he was going to fall over even though they were sitting. Rillick slowly lifted his head and met Shaan's gaze. He rose to his feet and walked down the stairs and onto the level ground. Rillick stood in front of him and frowned. He was clearly upset. His brown cloak shifting slightly in the breeze.

"The difference between men and women?" He said softly, but with a hint of poison in his voice. "I would never say anything that cruel to her. Certainly not in front of Chorrol."

The anger Rillick felt at the moment was not directed to Lorelai. He wasn't really angry at her. He was more angry at the specific events that had taken place and, in some ways, himself. Though if anyone asked why, he wouldn't be able to answer.

They remained there, staring at each other for a long while before another voice cut through the silence.

"Captain!" A woman's voice he recognized flowed through his ears followed by the sound of hooves on stone. He sighed with relief.

Turning around to face the guardswoman, Rillick quickly composed himself and slipped into his professional role once again.

"Is there a problem?"

"Orcs, captain. Two of them have attacked a merchant caravan on the western path!" She answered on top of the horse she rode.

Upon hearing this, Shaan began hurriedly scrunching the parchment into a ball.

"Then we must hurry." Rillick commanded. "Shaan, you're with me. Guardswoman, gather any guards you find and take the northern path, try to flank them. Me and Shaan will meet them head on."

The guardswoman saluted. "Yes sir. Le'undri and Lon have secured the path along the west gate, so they can't get away. They've already injured several of us. Be careful captain, they're riders."

After steeling himself from the nervousness he felt, Rillick nodded. "Acknowledged. Move out!"

The guardswoman rode away as Shaan and Rillick ran towards their horses and untied the knots. They practically flung themselves into the saddles and rode off towards the west gate. Shaan threw the parchment into a passing brazier as they rode.

A fair way from the village, an elf and a dwarf crouched on either side of the path. As Shaan and Rillick approached they turned and seemed relieved judging by their smiles. Rillick dismounted his horse while she was still in motion, Shaan did the same. He pulled out a heavy crossbow tied to the shoulder of his horse as Rillick strode to the other two, unsheathing his longsword. The dwarf, Lon, ran up to greet him. He had a dwarven made crossbow in his hands.

"Glad ye made it cap'n, we've stationed guards at every checkpoint along this road. No way they're gett'n past us. We're short of chasin' 'em along the entirety of tha High Road."

Rillick showed no intention of making jokes.

"Shaan, Lon, get your crossbows ready. On my mark, fire at the wargs one at a time. First Lon, then Shaan."

Shaan nodded and started working a bolt into the channel of his crossbow.

"Aye sir!" Lon started pulling back the string of his weapon.

He turned to the elf. "Le'undri. once the wargs are dead, you and I will engage the orcs. Try to get behind them, that way we'll be attacking on both sides."

Le'undri gave a single nod and pulled out the longsword on his belt.

Everyone got into position with the two bowmen on either side of the path while Rillick and Le'undri stood side by side, weapons out.

"Perhaps the tavern bards will sing songs about us." He said, loud enough so everyone could hear. "They could start a series of songs. 'The Exiting and Dangerous Battles of the Balder's Gate City Guard'. What do you think?" He grinned, glancing at Rillick while twirling his weapon confidently.

Rillick was focused, scanning the horizon for any activity. His eyes darted sideways to the elf, who was clearly nervous. He looked forward again.

"What I think Le'undri," he said in an annoyed tone, "is that we need to stay focused."

He looked down at the guard's feet, then started tracing up and to his arms. He narrowed his eyes as Le'undri showed off his sword dancing skills. He calmly raised his own sword and Le'undri fumbled his sword in panic as it hit the flat of Rillick's blade. He ended up hugging it to his chest before unfolding his arms and returning his stance before.

"Also, make sure you have a good grip and a solid stance or you'll be toppled onto the ground before the battle even starts."

Trying everything he can to hide his embarrassment, Le'undri widened his stance and turned slightly sideways. He looked up at the captain, hoping to get his approval, only to see his head shake as he made his own stance.

In the distance they heard the thundering of hooves as they tore down the path. As the noise got louder, Rillick could see the guards-woman from earlier as well as two other guards he did not recognize at first glance. In between them were the orcs, one behind the other, sitting on top of menacing black creatures that looked like wolves, only bigger and more monstrous. He raised his sword over his head and his shield to his torso.

He shouted over his shoulder. "On my mark!"

Shaan and Lon raised their crossbows, aiming at the beasts. The thundering got louder, soon joined by the pattering of large padded feet.

"First one!" He swung his sword down and pointed at the orc in front.

A high pitched hissing sound shot past Rillick's ear, so close he felt it. The warg in front snapped his head sideways and rolled over his front paws and over the top of it's rider. It then continued to roll until it skidded across the ground, into the grass and stopped a few metres from them.

"Again!" he ordered, motioning with his shield.

Another hiss was heard, though not quite close this time. The second one jumped in the air and landed with it's paws outstretched, sliding at great speeds until rolling sideways right into the long grass off the path.

The air lingered with an uncomfortable silence. For a long while they all stood staring at the wall of black, mangled fur of the dead warg in front of them. Soon the silence was dispersed by Shaan's loud voice.

"Holy shit!" He yelled, making sure everyone heard him.

Rillick turned to the elf beside him, who was visibly shaking with fear, and motioned with his head. The two slowly made their way around the beast and towards the other one. Shaan and Lon lowered their crossbows and joined them.

As the four crept around the warg, Shaan noticed the orc trapped underneath it. Both it's legs were pinned but it still insisted on fighting, frantically flailing it's curved sword hoping to cut the guards' legs. Shaan calmly walked over, trod on it's wrist to stop him swinging, and shot a bolt through it's head. He looked up and shook his head with a disbelieving frown.

The four cautiously trod through the long yellow grass towards the second beast, who he could hear was growling in pain, looking all around them as they closed in. Rillick raised his hand to tell Shaan and Lon to hold position and continued to approach the creature with Le'undri.

He strode over and layed a hand on the neck of the large creature. He could see the bolt sticking out of it's chest, blood trickling down it to the ground as well as the countless scars from where the orcs had tormented it. Rillick couldn't help but feel sympathy for the creature.

He raised his sword and drove it through the beasts eye, ending it's pain. He looked up to see the elf moving closer towards him with a solemn expression on his face.

That solemn expression was quickly replaced with terror as he suddenly broke out in a sprint to something behind him. From all his training and experience, Rillick what was happening. He let go of the sword protruding from the warg's head and pulled out his shortsword that he used for alleyways and indoor conflicts, as well as emergencies like this one. He saw the curved blade flash past his eyes, missing him by centimetres.

Le'undri tore past and into the orc standing before them. However, it stepped to the side and he charged through the empty space. Rillick quickly engaged, trying to close the gap for his drastically smaller blade. The orc swung his scimitar at him again but it was blocked by Rillick's shield. But the axe in it's other hand swung low and past his defences, smashing into his waist, leaving a fatal wound across his abdomen.

Shaan went into a fit of frenzy upon seeing his friend drop to the ground in a bloodied heap. He dropped his crossbow, pulled out both his longsword and his own shortsword and swung wildly at the monster. Le'undri and Lon moved in to help.

"Lon, get Rillick out of here!" Le'undri ordered, "we can handle this!"

Although the dwarf didn't like being told what to do by someone of the same rank as him, he nodded and grabbed Rillick by the shoulders and started pulling.

Shaan and Le'undri's pincer attack worked beautifully as the monster tried to engage one guard, only to have the other attack him from behind. He was quickly dispatched by Shaan, who cut across his abdomen, similar to Rillick's wound, severed his right arm, then his head.

Another orc leapt out of the grass, this time with a greataxe. Shaan dodged the heavy swings, allowing it to get tired before cutting his throat while the elf pierced his heart from behind.

Meanwhile, Rillick was dragged away from the conflict, groaning in pain and leaving a trail of his own blood through the now flattened grass. With great effort he wrestled free of Lon's grip and grabbed the health potion from his belt. He had been saving it for this very occasion. He already felt his flesh knit together as he tipped back the contents. He looked over to see two mutilated corpses of the orcs with Le'undri and Shaan standing over them.

Shaan snapped his head in Rillick's direction.

"Rillick!" He shouted, running to his side to help him up.

"I'm okay." He said between breaths. Grabbing hold of Shaan's extended hand to pull himself up.

"I thought that axe was going to cut you in two!" He exclaimed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Scared the hell out of me."

"Me too." Rillick laughed. "Bastard got through my defences. Can you believe that? Must be getting soft."

"I take back everything about what I said about that potion being a waste of money."

Rillick laughed then coughed in pain as he clutched his side.

"Unfortunately it doesn't soften the pain very much." He joked before looking over to the dead warg. "Let me just get my sword."

The other two guards high-fived each other as Rillick walked over to his sword, still clutching his side. He wrenched it free with the aid of his foot. After wiping off the blood he sheathed it and walked back to the three.

"Shaan!" He called as he approached. "Do not tell Lorelai what happened here. Ever."

Shaan smiled jokingly and nodded.

"Do you under-"

Out of nowhere a high pitched yell erupted and a creature smaller than an orc leapt from the grass and wrapped his arms and legs around Rillick's torso, embedding a crude knife into his throat.

Shaan leapt forward and grabbed the green monster's scrawny arm that held the dagger and yanked it off him. He wrenched it off the captain and threw it onto the road where Lon quickly killed it with his war-axe. He could see from the oversized nose and pointy ears it was a goblin. It must've been hiding on one of the orcs' mounts.

Shaan grabbed Rillick as he started falling backwards and shoved his hand around his throat. The blood oozed out between his fingers. He knew the cut was too deep for normal potions to work, he needed a healer.

"Get a cleric down here!" He yelled over his shoulder as Rillick's body twitched in his arms. "Tell them the Captain's hit!"

"Shaan..." Rillick managed to say through the choking of his own blood.

He looked down at the dying man in his arms. "I'm right here." He whispered softly, not bothering to hide the panic in his voice. "Right here with you. Stay with me."

Rillick began to feel himself drift away as Shaan's voice began to fade.

"We'll get you to the temple. The high priest can fix you. Just hold on..."

The last thing he saw through his blurred vision was a man in a white robe moving towards him.

"The Great Mother looks kindly on us Shaan. He is getting better by the day, but it will be some time before he is well enough for duty. He can stay in our chambers until he is well"

The room was blurred. The ceiling radiated a blinding pure white. There was the sweet smell of herbs. Who's voice was that? What place is this?

"Thank you High Priest. I would like to be alone with him if that's okay."

Shaan! It was his voice.

"Of course. Take all the time you need."

Footsteps were heard as the high priest left the room. Shaan held a small decorative urn holding an abundance of different flowers, too many to name them all.

"Hi, friend. We're still here. We're still hanging in."

There was a silence before he continued. "I'm sorry. I know I say the same crap everytime I come here."

He looked at the urn in his hands. "The guys at the Barracks all pitched in on these. They specifically wanted me to bring them down. They send their love, and they just... they hope you'll come back very soon."

He laughed. It is a solemn, pitiful laugh devoid of any joy. "Lindra and Dainne picked these from the forest outside of town. They were careful, don't worry."

He turned his head to something at the side. "I'm guessing you can tell. I'll just set these on the side table, Okay?"

He made his way towards the table.

"That is a very nice urn." Rillick managed to say, smiling cheekily. "Did you steal it from your grandmother? It looks awfully familiar."

He began to laugh but was interrupted by a fit of painful coughs. Each time he coughed his body cried out.

He waited for a response, but nothing came. He raised his head, confused. He was lying on a bed covered by a single sheet, wearing nothing but a loincloth. He tried to sit but it was too much effort. He only managed to elevate his head. Looking around he recognized the white room. He was in one of the chambers at the temple. He was here once before, but with less serious injuries. However, he was completely alone.

"Shaan?" he called. "Shaan, are you there?"

No answer. Just silence. He laid his head back down on the pillow.

He remembered the flowers Shaan brought in. Turning his head however, provided no such comfort. The flowers were wilted and dead. The once colourful and vibrant scene was now shades of brown and red. The petals crumbled into dust when Rillick held them in his hand, falling through his fingers to join the broken petals on the small round table.

Bewildered, Rillick propped himself up with his elbows and spotted a crude looking staff leaning at the head of his bed. He pulled the covers off him and swung his feet onto the cold ground.

He grabbed the stick and heaved himself to a standing position, only for it to slip. Rillick toppled over and landed painfully onto the floor.

"Help me!" He yelled as loud as he can, but it only came out as a croak. "High Priest? Anyone?"

No answer. Something was very wrong. How long was he out? What happened in the meantime?

After what seemed like hours of crawling along on the floor, he finally managed to rise to his feet and balance himself with the stick. He needed to find out what was going on. But first, he realized how incredibly thirsty he was. He slowly made his way to the washroom door and opened it. The small room was empty aside from the hole in the floor on the opposite end leading to the sewers, and a wash basin to the left in the middle. He made his way to the basin and dropped to his knees. The water was crystal clear. Breathing a sigh of relief, he plunged his hand into the water and lifted the cupped hand to his lips. He closed his eyes as he blissfully drank handful after handful of the cold refreshing water.

After he drank his fill he noticed that his reflection looked different. Through the ripples and waves he could see that he has grown a sheet of hair around his chin and cheeks. That wasn't there before. Again he wondered how long it's been since he was unconscious? He shook himself of the immense confusion he felt and slowly rose to his feet.

He opened the door leading to the hallway slightly and stopped in horror at the sight before him. The ground was littered with books and unused scrolls, blankets and bedsheets. All the rooms had their doors open and he could see tables upturned and the beds torn to pieces. Something did happen here. Whatever it was, it was bad. He looked down to see a table, not unlike the one by his bedside, up against the door. He pushed harder against the door sliding the table away, allowing access to the hall before him. With the aid of his walking stick, he hobbled through the hallway towards the main area.

He moved clumsily through the dark hallway, illuminated only through the windows high above him. Eventually he came to a door he knew was one of the priest's quarters. If he was to know what was going on, maybe something inside will tell him. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was not much different to the hallway. Papers and books were scattered in the same fashion. Rillick set to work on finding a note or anything to tell him what was going on. Eventually he gave up after finding barely a shed of light on the situation.

He noticed a lit candle that was sitting at the bedside table only a few centimetres high in a pool of melted wax. He rifled through a cabinet and took a fresh candle as well as the lantern on the floor next to it. He exchanged the candle flames and slid the new one into the lantern before leaving the room.

With his new light source in hand he made his way to a set of doors and peered through the crack in-between. What he saw brought back the terror he felt when he first set foot in the hallway, but increased it tenfold. There, on the ground, was a woman in robes that were once white as snow, but now was dark red where the blood soaked in. The robes were torn to pieces and rotting away.

The priestess' skin was grey and her limbs positioned at impossible angles. Rillick could not keep his eyes off her. He spent a long time staring at the body, horrified. After nearly an hour he finally broke his gaze and started to pick up the pace. He hobbled the other direction and took a different path.

As he limped through the corridor he began running questions in his mind. Was the town invaded by Amn or Nashkel? Did the Hobgoblins from the forest finally attack in full force? Did we get hit by a plague?

He looked up to see that the tapestries depicting the gods had gashes in them. Rillick knew instantly that the cuts were from swords and other edged weapons. Whoever did this, must've either been a guard. or a soldier.

He stopped at a set of doors with the sign, MESS HALL above it. The door had a wooden staff much like his stuck between the handles and a chain secured around it. But what caught his attention was what was written, or rather, chiselled, on the door.

It read: DO NOT OPEN, UNDEAD INSIDE.

Undead? He thought. But this is a temple. A place of worship. surely the undead could not enter such a place. Could they?

His question was answered when the familiar groan of a zombie was heard on the other side. He stepped back, eyes wide with shock. The lantern he carried slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. The sound echoed through the building.

"Damnit!" He hissed, and knelt down to pick up the candle.

The door pushed open a little, straining against the staff. He backed away slowly as he got up.

Suddenly the door shook violently back and fourth, the constant banging sound became louder every time. Rillick gasped and stumbled back. The undead usually don't have such unbridled strength.

After a while, and to the relief of Rillick, the doors ceased shaking, leaving only the sound of moaning and growling. From the sounds of it, there must be dozens in there. Rillick stared as a hand appeared and snaked it's way through the cracks, grabbing and grasping at nothing. The hand didn't look rotted like the usual zombies did. This one looked fresher like a newly dead person.

Another hand emerged from the gap, going through the same motions as the other. Then another, then another. The staff began to bend until it started to make small crackling noises. Those doors won't hold out much longer. Now merely carrying his stick, Rillick ran as fast as he could, pushing himself off the walls along the way.

The momentum he built caused him to crash his shoulder straight into a small brass door. Only stopping a second to wince at the pain, he swung the door open and almost hurled himself inside slamming the door behind him, encasing himself in complete darkness.

Everything was silent except for his own heavy breathing. Feeling his way in the darkness, his bare foot met an absence of floor. Using the wall as a brace he slowly lowered his foot down until it hit the cold ground.

A staircase. Rillick remembered that the temple had an underground crypt that may be a good way to escape the temple. As he slowly made his way down the stairs he hoped to the gods that the bodies there didn't wake up.

After a long trek down the spiral staircase, he began to see a dim light following around the corner. When he approached he found the end of the stairs and two torches on either side of the wall. He reached out and lifted one torch from the sconce and shambled his way past the coffins and alcoves of skulls and bones.

He saw another source of light up ahead. Sunlight escaping from the ceiling. He picked up his pace towards the light. As he got there, he noticed a set of stairs leading up to a trapdoor. His torch blew out suddenly plunging him in darkness once again.

Using the small amount of light seeping through the trapdoor, he dropped his now unlit torch and crawled up the stairs and lifted the door open.

The immense brightness of the outside light was too much for Rillick's eyes but the cool breeze was a refreshing change to the stuffy interior of the catacombs. When his eyes began to adjust to the light he found himself inside a stone structure with various urns and strongboxes probably containing the belongings of the deceased.

He rose to his feet and stepped outside. He walked through the graveyard and out the open gates. He continued walking towards the entrance to the temple only to witness a most grave sight. The cobblestone ground outside the temple doors were littered with corpses. Far more than he had ever seen in his career. He walked among the bodies, seeing men, women and children of all races lying on the ground and piled on abandoned, overflowing rickshaws.

Rillick couldn't stay. He began to feel sick. He heaved on his stick to escape the nightmarish scene as quickly as he could. He traversed the empty streets, devoid of all life. He trekked through alleyways, taverns and even some houses until he made it into the outskirts of the city. He started to climb a nearby grassy hill when he saw a strange object at the top. When he reached the top he saw it. A wyvern. It's wings draped the landscape as it lay dead on the ground. It's head, back and tail covered in armor. He stared at it in wonder. soldiers only use trained wyverns when in extreme, catastrophic events.

He moved around the creature and discovered a war camp. He saw catapults and balistae, as well as various horses, elephants and other war animals, lying dead in their designated areas. It looked like they were planning a siege on Balder's gate. Except there was no one present. There was not a single soul to be found anywhere in the siege camp. His thoughts then shifted to his wife and son. Despite his weakened state the goblin left him in, he found a new drive. He had to get to them.

He walked through the streets, only the tapping of his walking stick on the stone path could be heard. He was determined to reach his house. Nothing would stop him.

He heard a faint moaning sound as he passed one house. When he glanced at the direction of the sound, what saw him stopped him dead in his tracks. He saw a halfling woman reaching out at him with an extended hand. She had no legs and her entrails were spilled out behind her like tentacles. The halfling looked only freshly killed. Undead usually have rotted from years of decomposing before rising from the grave, either by a necromancer or an evil deity.

The zombie began inching it's way towards him by it's hands and he thought it best to move on.

At last he came to the front steps of his house. He dropped the stick and climbed the stairs on his hands and knees. When he reached the door he stumbled in.

"Lorelai!" He called, searching the house.

No answer.

"Chorrol!" He shouted, continuing his search, more frantic this time.

Still no answer. There was no-one in the house.

"Chorrol!" He called again, a little louder this time with a hint of desperation in his voice.

At this point Rillick ran through the house. Searching high and low for either of them. The bedrooms, the kitchen, washroom. Even the fireplace and cupboards, desperately tearing through the place to no avail.

"No..." he whispered, unable to accept the truth. They could be dead, gone. He would not accept that that was their fate. He could not.

"LORELAI!" He screamed, tears welling up, obscuring his vision as he charged through the house. "CHORROL!"

He stopped in the middle of the main room and stood, swaying slightly. He dropped to his knees. They were gone. He began to cry and lay down on the hard, wooden floor.

"Lorelai..." he wept. "Chorrol..."

The wood soaked in the tears as he lay there, now devolved to a quiet sob. Soon he stopped and rose from the floor. Sitting on his knees he stared at his hands. He took in every vein, wrinkle and strand of hair on them.

"Is this real?" He asked.

Lorelai told him once that you can tell if you're dreaming by looking at your hands. Your brain won't be able to process all ten of your fingers so they usually appear distorted. However, all his fingers were intact and normal.

Unable to accept that this as reality, he smashed his hand on his forehead repeatedly.

"Wake... Wake up." He croaked.

Looking up he still found himself in his house. There was no doubt he was awake.

He rose to his feet, now with a splitting headache, and wondered outside and sat at the steps of his house. This was real. This is happening. He lowered his head and stared at the brown of his loincloth. He didn't know what he was going to do. Where were they? Were they dead, or just gone?

Footsteps. He looked up. He saw a man stumbling in quite the same manner as he did. He seemed to be in trouble. Rillick raised his hand to usher him over but the man didn't seem to notice. Before he was about to call out he heard the crack of a stick behind him. He snapped his head behind him only to see something metal speed towards him.

"Papa!" A voice called. It sounded like a child's voice. Could it be?

A dark skinned child stood over the writhing body of the man holding a metal shovel.

"Papa!" He called again.

At his feet the man began to speak. His voice weak.

"Chorrol." It said, "I found you."

The child rose his shovel, ready to strike again.

Rillick lay on the ground, dazed. Everything was a blur and he was seeing double. He felt blood oozing from his nose and down to his mouth. He turned his head over to the side to see the man on the road along with someone else he didn't recognize. A human with dark skin. What came next shook him to his core.

To his horror, the dark human unsheathed a sword and swung it at the other man's head with not a hint of hesitation. The head came cleanly off and the headless body fell to the ground. As he got closer towards Rillick, he could see he was limping.

"Papa, I have the bastard! I'm going to smack him dead!" The child exclaimed. There was no doubt they were kin.

The father grabbed the shovel off his son. "I thought I heard him say something."

"He called me Chorrol."

"Son, you know they can't talk." He turned to Rillick. "You, sir, what's that on your throat. A wound? Where did you get it."

"Wh- What?" He managed to murmur. Of all the questions the man could ask, why would he be interested in a wound?

Every fibre of Rillick's being screamed to him to get up and fight this man. Whoever he was, he walked up and murdered someone in broad daylight, in front of his son no less, and is not showing an inch of remorse. But in his weakened state, combined with being hit by a shovel, all he could do was lay on the grass outside his home, with the two strangers brandishing weapons at him.

The stranger pointed the sword at his head.

"What kind of wound?" He growled. "You answer me, hells take you."

He pressed the tip of the sword to his throat. The steel blade was cold to the touch. As were the drops of blood that lingered there. "You tell me, or I will kill you."

Rillick began to feel faint. The world began spinning. He tried to stand, to disarm this criminal threatening to kill him. He would take him to the guard's headquarters and throw him into the dungeons.

But instead, he blacked out.

The world came back to focus. He didn't feel dizzy anymore. He looked around to see he was lying on a bed in the room of a hut. The room smelt strongly of dried herbs. His hands were raised above him, tied to the head with ropes. He looked ahead of him to see the child standing at the doorway holding the shovel from earlier. He noticed the splashing of water beside him and, when he looked, he saw the stranger with his back turned. His left leg was wrapped in a bandage. He turned around, drying his hands on a rag.

"You were walking around with poison inside you. I made an antidote, which should neutralize it." He said, holding a steel cup of a strong smelling liquid. "Now where did you get the scar?"

It didn't seem like he was going to stop asking. Rillick decided it wouldn't hurt to tell him.

"Knife to the throat." He sighed.

"Anything else?" He asked, placing the cup on the table.

"Is that not enough?" Rillick asked sarcastically. He started to get annoyed by these inane questions about his injuries.

The stranger did not take the comment lightly however. He knelt over him menacingly.

"Look." He said quietly. "I ask, and you answer. It is a common courtesy yes?"

His face was now only centimetres away from Rillick's. "Did. You get. Bit."

Despite the nervousness he felt, a confused frown appeared on his forehead.

"Bit?" He asked.

The stranger straightened, allowing Rillick to breathe again. "Bitten, chewed, maybe even scratched."

Was he asking if he fought wolves? Or ankegs? What was with this man?

"No." He answered after a pause. "A goblin got the jump on me and slit my throat. I suppose the blade was laced with poison but that is all as far as I know."

Silence filled the room with only the child's nervous shuffling feet could be heard. Eventually the stranger raised a hand towards Rillick. Rillick felt his muscles tense as the hand of the man threatened to kill him and then kidnapped him and tied him to a bed came close to his head.

"Hey," he said, calmer than before. "Let me."

Despite Rillick's better judgement he relaxed and the back the stranger's hand rested on his forehead. He looked over to his son.

"Feels like he's cooling down."

He turned back to Rillick. "The fever would've killed you by now."

"I didn't even know I had one." Rillick answered.

"It would've been hard to miss."

He drew a dagger from his boot and sat on the bed next to Rillick. He held it up to him to give him a good view of the blade.

"Take a moment to look how sharp this is." He said with a tone of warning in his voice.

Rillick never felt as scared before. The dagger was indeed very sharp and made with good quality steel. He began to feel tears emerge but he fought them down.

"You try anything," the stranger growled, "I will kill you with it. Don't think I won't."

Rillick gave him slight, rapid nods of understanding. The stranger let the blade linger near his face for a while then moved it up past his face and cut the binds on his hands.

"Come out when you are able to." He ordered.

He handed the remedy he prepared earlier to Rillick before walking out the door, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Come on."

They both left the small room leaving Rillick alone. His gaze drifted to the cup in his hands. He stared at the ripples that appeared in the water and breathed in the strong smell of lavender rising from it. He lifted it to his lips and gulped it down. It was bitter but he drank without protest.

He placed the cup on the table beside him and lay back down on the bed shivering, caressing his hands and stared at the ceiling. His confusion was overwhelming. He had so many questions. But before he could address him, he suddenly realized how tired he was and drifted off to sleep.

Rillick woke to the smell of cooked meat and heard the clink of cutlery. The smell made him incredibly hungry. He climbed out of bed when he noticed his strength had returned. In fact, he felt better than he was since before the coma. That must meant the antidote worked. He took the grey robe hanging on the door and entered the main room.

The stranger and his son were sitting at a candlelit table with a bowl of stew. The windows were covered by fur blankets making the candles on the table the only light source. He walked around the house noticing the makeshift bedrolls on the floor. This place seems familiar. Then it dawned on him.

"This house." He said towards the two. "It's Fredsch and Cinder's house isn't it?"

"I've never met them." The stranger answered.

"I've been here. This is their house."

"It was empty when we arrived."

Rillick moved to the window to hopefully see what was out there that needed the blankets.

"Don't do that." The stranger ordered before he could move them. "They will see the light. There's more of them out there than usual. Blighted horse, running off like that."

He moved away from the window, knowing better than to go against his captor's wishes.

"Sound draws them." The stranger continued, getting up from his chair. "Now they're all over the street."

He took out a wooden bowl and filled it with the stew with a ladle. "Stupid. Should've just stayed on foot."

He placed the bowl on the table and ushered Rillick over, which he did.

"I found it during a supply run and thought it would be a good idea to conserve energy and time." He shook his head. "Of course the stupid thing is spooked the moment it hears the slightest noise and takes off, neighing as loudly as you please."

He sat back down and used another chair to prop his bandaged leg up. "That's what happened to my leg. It threw me off, sprained it badly."

"You killed that man today." Rillick blurted out without even thinking.

The stranger looked at him confused. "Man?"

The child spoke. "That was not a man."

Now that his strength returned, Rillick felt he could put up a fight now. He gazed at him, perplexed. These murderers truly were unfazed, even now.

"You cut off his head in the street out front." He reminded them, putting on his authoritative tone. "A human man."

The stranger looked at him in the eye. "Friend, it was not a man, it was a walker." He slid the bowl of stew towards him. "Come. Sit down before you fall. The antidote might not have worked fully yet."

Rillick stared at him, shocked and apalled. Who are these people?

He looked down at the bowl infront of him. He was so hungry and the smell was unbearable. finally he gave up. He sat down and picked up the spoon.

"Papa?" The child spoke, stopping him in his tracks. "Blessing."

"Of course."

He turned to see the child's extended hand beckoning him to hold it. He hesitated for a moment but, due to the fact that he just wanted to eat, he reluctantly took it.

"Chautea, The Grain Goddess, we thank you for this food..." The stranger began.

Every minute that goes by, this family becomes weirder. They abduct people and demand to know about their injuries, move into other people's homes, kill people for walking, but they eat at a table and prey to the gods. His head began to hurt as he tried to make them out.

"...and Torm, The Loyal Fury, we ask that you watch over us in these crazy days."

They all let go and Rillick wasted no time in digging into the stew.

They ate in silence until the stranger spoke.

"Sir, do you even know what's going on?" He asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

Rillick looked up from his bowl, and sighed. "I woke up today in the temple, came home and that's all I know."

"But you know about the dead people."

"Yes, I saw a lot of that. Carts and rickshaws filled to the brim at the temple gates."

"No." Said the stranger, "not the ones they put down, the ones they didn't. The walkers."

"You mean like zombies?" Asked Rillick.

"No. These are stronger and much more dangerous than zombies. Like the one I killed today. He would have ripped into you, tried to eat you, taken some flesh at least. Well, I guess if this is the first time you've heard it, I know how it must sound."

Rillick ate the last spoonful and placed the spoon in the bowl. "They're out there now in the street?"

The stranger nodded. "Yes. They're more active at night. Maybe it's the cool air or, hells, maybe they're following that horse from earlier." He rose from his seat and took everyone's bowls.

"We'll be fine as long as we stay quiet, they'll probably wander off by morning."

Rillick rose to help him.

"But listen." The stranger warned, turning to face him. "One thing I do know. Don't get bitten. We saw you hobbling through the street, delirious, and then your scar, and that's what we're afraid of. Bites kill you. The fever saps your life. But then after a while... you come back."

Silence emanated around the room. The stranger sat down again as Rillick stood, taking in what was said. A new species of zombie these two call 'Walkers' have plagued the land, perhaps even all of Fae'run. These people weren't murderers, but normal folks merely trying to survive. He understood that now.

"We've seen it happen." The child said, ending the silence.

He noticed the stranger glance at his son, a sombre expression on his face. there was a story here, but Rillick decided not to dwell on it.

Night soon fell and the three sat in the main room on the bedrolls on the floor. Mogrin sat upright with his back against the wall while his son, Duhane, slept soundly next to him. Rillick lay in the middle watching the flame of the hooded lantern beside him.

"Chorrol." Said Mogrin.

He looked up.

"Is he your son? You said his name today."

Rillick sat up and hugged his knees. "He's a little younger than your son."

"He's with your mother?"

He looked back at the lantern. "I hope so."

"Father?" Duhane asked sleepily. "Did you ask him?"

Mogrin laughed. "Your encounter with the goblin." He explained to Rillick. "We have a wager going. My son thinks you're a thief caught stealing from a tribe in the Coast."

Rillick smiled. "That's me." He chuckled, pretending to pull a hood over his head. "notorious cutpurse and burgler."

He lay down the opposite side, leaning on his elbow. "Guard captain."

Mogrin nodded.

Suddenly the distant chiming of a large bell echoed through the night. Duhane bolted upright. Mogrin pulled him close.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm here." He whispered into his ear.

He turned to Rillick. "One of them must have wondered into the bell-tower and knocked it."

"Are you sure?" He asked, worried.

"It's happened before. It chimed for a few hours." He turned back to his son. "Get the light Duhane."

Duhane quickly rose to cover the lantern on the floor beside them as the other two extinguished all sources of light in the house. Mogrin quickly snuck towards the window, lifted a corner of the blanket peered out onto the street. Rillick walked up to him.

"The west bell-tower, same as before." He said to Rillick. "I think we're ok."

Rillick looked through his own opening and saw a huge crowd of the walkers shambling past them. There were so many.

"That noise," he said. "Won't it bring more of them?"

Mogrin shook his head. "They would probably be heading towards the tower. They should all be gone in the morning."

Rillick felt a pressure on the side of his leg as Duhane walked up between them and looked through. His gaze met an elven woman with braided black hair and an elegant white dress.

"She's here." Duhane whispered, shakily.

Rillick felt the child's muscles tense and could swear he was shivering. Mogrin turned and knelt to his level.

"Don't look," he ordered, "get away from the windows."

It was too late. Duhane tore through the house and leapt onto his bedroll. Mogrin raced over to him, nearly as distraught as him.

"Quiet. Come on. Come now." He pleaded, draping his arms around the crying child.

He tried, but he couldn't. His crying became louder. He buried head in the blanket, desperately trying to silence the noise. Mogrin picked up a pillow that was standing against the wall.

"Here," he said, "cry into the pillow. Remember?"

Over the muffled cries and frantic pleading, Rillick watched in wonder at the elf as she continued to stroll around the house. She seemed disinterested by the distant chiming of the west bell-tower.

He moved from window to window as she hobbled around. Where was she going? Rillick wondered.

Eventually he arrived at the front door of the house. He peered through the lock and watched as she walked up the pathway right up to the door. She lingered there for a while, almost looking curious. Her hand rose and grasped the door handle. Rillick sunk back from the keyhole and stared at the handle in fascination as it rattled. Then after a while he slowly walked back to his bedroll.

"I guess Duhane's ears haven't developed that curve yet, so you can't tell." Mogrin lamented, stroking his son's head, tears in his eyes. "She died in this house in the room you were in earlier. There was nothing I could do."

He motioned towards the room Rillick was in when they first met. Then he began to sob lightly. "The fever. Her skin gave off heat like a furnace."

"I should've put her down." He paused between sharp breaths as he struggled to say the words.

"I should've put her down. I know that, but I just didn't have it in me." He looked down at Duhane who was now sleeping in his arms. "She's the mother of my child."

The bell-tower continued to chime in the distance. Rillick looked away, not knowing what to say. He found himself looking towards the door once more, as it twisted and turned.

Rillick, Mogrin and Duhane cautiously stepped outside onto the front porch. The morning sun gazed down at them as they looked out at the empty streets. the walkers were gone but Rillick could see a lone dwarf leaning on the fence on the outside of the house. It looked dead, but he knew too well it wasn't. He turned to Mogrin.

"Have any ideas who this is?" He asked, in such a way only a watchman could.

Mogrin shook his head. "Whoever he is must be an incredibly powerful necromancer to control so many at once. I know one thing though."

"What's that?" Rillick asked.

They walked down the stairs and through the weed-ridden garden.

"Unlike zombies," Mogrin began, "walkers are very unorganized. No idea why, maybe it's because he, she or they are controlling so many they can't keep track. I found that you can cut their communication by destroying the brain. That's their weak spot."

"So it has to be the head?"

"Yes. here." Mogrin pulled out his longsword and handed it to Rillick.

Slightly relieved to see a tool he was familiar with he took it from his hands. He strode through the front gate testing the sword's weight. He opened the gate. The dwarven walker turned his head around, rose to a standing position and limped through the opening and towards him, growling.

He didn't get far as Rillick effortlessly swung the sword down, cutting off half his head. The dwarf collapsed in a heap at his feet.

He suddenly felt his body weaken and his legs gave way, sending him tumbling into the grass. Mogrin and Duhane hurried up to him.

"Are you all right?" Asked Mogrin, worried.

"I'm fine," he breathed, "I think I still have the effects of the poison. I just need a moment."

Rillick sat on his knees, staring at his shaking hands. His head was spinning and it was hard to breathe. His thoughts shifted to his family, then something struck him. Something was missing. A small detail he overlooked before. He slowly rose to his feet and walked briskly to his house. Mogrin and Duhane looked at each other, confused, then followed him.

He staggered through the front door and into his bedroom. Clothes were scattered all over the floor and bed. He turned to see the two standing at the doorway with a concerned expression.

"They're alive." Rillick said triumphantly. "My wife and son are alive. At least when they left."

Mogrin stepped forward. "How can you know? By the look of this place-"

"The drawers are empty." He interrupted. His felt a smile creep across his face. "They packed some clothes. Not a lot, but enough to travel."

Mogrin wasn't convinced. He stared at Rillick, frowning. "You know anyone could have broken in here and stole togs, right?"

Annoyed at Mogrin's scepticism, Rillick pointed at the table on the side of his bed.

"Do you see the journal on the table?" They looked at the empty table he was pointing at. "Neither do I. It wasn't adorned with jewels or anything, would some random thief take that too?"

He walked over and began searching through the small drawers, making sure he was right.

"Lorelai would often write songs and poems in them." He said, not looking up from his search. "She loved poetry, she wouldn't leave it behind. Especially now."

Satisfied that the book was indeed gone, he stood up and saw Mogrin turning red. His hand was clenched in a fist. Next, he laughed out loud.

"A poetry book!?" He yelled.

He sat on the bed. Before Rillick could feel offended by Mogrin's burst of laughter, his expression changed to grief and pain. Rillick stared, shocked. Mogrin looked up at him and sighed.

"My wife." He sobbed. "She also liked to write poetry. There I am packing survival gear and she's grabbing a gods-forsaken book..."

He trailed off, fighting back the tears. He sat on the bed, tapping on his knee with his clasped hands.

The three stood in an uncomfortable silence. It was very obvious Mogrin loved her very much. Rillick wished there was something, anything he could do to ease his friend's pain.

"They're in Neverwinter I'd wager." Duhane finally spoke.

Mogrin drew a sharp breath. "That's right."

"Why there?" Rillick asked, eager to change the subject.

He tried to calm himself before continuing. "Refugee centre. A convoy came around the other day picking up survivors. They said they had a huge one, until they stopped coming. Military protection, food, shelter. People were begging to be let on, but there just wasn't any room."

"Plus they have that tower." Duhane added.

He nodded. "The wizard tower. The wizard who lives there was working out a solution to this plague."

Rillick stood at the side of the bed, taking in everything he was told. Finally he nodded in agreement with himself and strode out of the bedroom into the kitchen, opened the pantry door and grabbed a metal key hanging from the hook on the door.

They all travelled through the empty streets until they reached a large building with a stable protruding from the side. The barracks.

They walked up to the entrance and Rillick unlocked the door. He led them through the corridors and small rooms until he opened the door to a large room with dozens of baths and wash basins. Mogrin stared in wonder.

"You have a bathhouse?" He exclaimed.

Rillick grinned. "Of course. Stay here, I'll get some water."

He disappeared through the doorway.

"Would there be any hot water left?" Mogrin called out.

He poked his head back into view. "The barracks has it's own boiler."

He disappeared again leaving Mogrin and his son alone in the room. They exchanged glances, smiling with hope in their eyes. Eventually, Rillick returned carrying two large steaming buckets full of water.

"Mind giving me a hand?" He asked, heaving the heavy containers.

Mogrin lifted the bucket from his hands and they set to work filling the baths.

With three baths filled, they all stripped down and submerged themselves in the hot water. They happily soaped and washed themselves. Mogrin looked over to his son who was singing merrily.

"By the gods, this feels good. Right?" He sighed blissfully to his son.

Duhane held his arms above his head.

"Hot water!" He cheered.

Meanwhile, Rillick quietly shaved with soap and a sharp dagger, chuckling at Duhane's antics. It was good to see someone happy. He imagined it would be a rare thing before this was all over.

Later, they were drying themselves in the guard's sleeping quarters. Wrapped in a towel, Rillick got some clothes from a cabinet. The clothes were for a young halfling he recruited a few weeks ago. They were about Duhane's size.

"Duhane." Rillick ushered him over. "The change rooms are next door."

Duhane gingerly took the clothes and made his way out the door.

"What do you say, Duhane?" Mogrin called before he could leave.

"Thank you." He said quickly, and left.

They dressed in silent. When Rillick finished he sat on the edge of one of the beds.

"Neverwinter sounds like a good plan." He said after contemplating. "Safer anyway. People."

"That's where we were headed." Mogrin agreed. "Things got mad. Hells, you would not have believed the panic. The streets were not safe to be on."

He sat on the bed next to Rillick's and pulled his shirt on.

"Then my... my wife couldn't travel. Not with her hurt. So, we found a place to lie low." He stared at his feet. "Then after she died... we just hunkered down. I guess we just froze in place."

Rillick stood up and moved to the door. "Do you plan on moving on?"

He got up and followed Rillick. "Haven't worked up to it yet."

They met Duhane down the hallway and Rillick led them outside and to the armory. Inside, he produced a chainmail shirt and studded leather armor belonging to the same halfling. He handed them over to Duhane and Mogrin and put on his own chainmail as the other two did the same.

Now fully dressed in armor, Rillick lead them to a room with swords, spears, bows and other weapons fastened in plaques and stands. He looked around at the empty spaces as he lifted a kite shield from a plaque.

"A lot of it has gone missing." He stated as he tested the weight of the shield.

He placed it onto the table and turned to a greatsword in a weapon stand.

"Papa?" Asked the child shyly. "Can I learn to fight? I'm old enough."

Mogrin looked down at him, frowning. "Hells, yes, you're going to learn."

He Knelt down to his level. "But we have to do it carefully, teach you to respect each weapon."

"That's right." Rillick chimed in, pulling out the greatsword and inspecting it closely. "It is not a toy."

He dropped the claymore onto the table next to the shield and looked Duhane in the eye.

"Swing, parry, thrust, shoot an arrow, every action you take, you have to mean it." He turned around and picked up a longbow perched on two hooks. "Always remember that Duhane."

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

Mogrin pulled out a shortsword and handed it to Duhane while Rillick pulled the string of the bow to test it's durability.

"Here." Said Mogrin, as Duhane picked up the blade.

Rillick turned to Mogrin and handed him the bow and a quiver of arrows he got from the cabinet.

"Take these. Standard composite longbow, nothing fancy. Arrows are accurate and durable, if you know how to use it."

Picking up the bow from Rillick's hands, Mogrin tested the string himself.

The three grabbed as many weapons as they could carry. Rillick retrieved blankets from the sleeping quarters and some rope and they wrapped them around and tied them, making makeshift bags. They all left, weapons in tow, and headed to the stables.

"Don't engage them unless you need to." Rillick was saying as they hauled the blankets. "You need to be closer than you think when you strike effectively, especially one who is inexperienced."

Rillick carried two blankets of weapons, holding them by the rope. He wore his standard guard uniform, complete with his brown cloak with the Balder's Gate crest. Behind him, Mogrin carried another bag of weapons in one hand and a halberd in the other and the bow and arrows over his shoulder. Duhane also carried a bag, with both hands wrapped around it. He insisted on helping so Rillick loaded the smaller weapons into one blanket. He had his shortsword at his belt.

They reached the doorway of the stable and Rillick heaved the bags onto a nearby rickshaw, followed by Mogrin and Duhane. Then something inside the stable caught his eye. He cautiously rested his hand on the pommel of his sword and peered in. He heard a very familiar, and very welcome sound that made his eyes widen. Out of the darkness, a horse emerged and slowly sidled up to him.

"Fjord!" He exclaimed, cheerfully. "Great Tyr, you're alive!"

Fjord pushed affectionately into Rillicks shoulder and he stroked her snout.

"Yes," he laughed, "I missed you too."

Mogrin appeared at the doorway, grinning.

"Now that's a horse." He beamed, then turned to his son. "Duhane."

"Yes?"

"Get this poor animal some water."

"OK."

Duhane scurried off to the well a few meters away while Rillick began saddling Fjord.

"Wish I had a horse like that." He laughed. "Instead of the skittish one who gave me a sprained ankle."

"Well," said Rillick, securing the bridle, "she hasn't failed me yet."

After testing to make sure everything was in place, he lead Fjord outside where Duhane was busy filling a trough. She walked over and began drinking thirstily as Duhane sat next to her, stroking her neck.

"Are you sure you won't come along?" He asked Mogrin as they watched.

He nodded. "A few more days. By then, Duhane will know how to use a weapon and I won't be so rusty myself."

Rillick perked up as he remembered something and ran into the stable. When he emerged again he held a white dove in his hands. He lifted it up for Mogrin to see.

"We used to send messages with these guys when we went on distant raids." He said. "They're incredibly smart and well trained, you don't have to worry about food and they can travel long distances."

He let go of it's wings where it stumbled on his forearm trying to gain balance. It danced up and down his arm for a short time before fluttering off in search for food.

"I will write you every day at dawn. You find that dove, you find me."

Mogrin smirked, impressed. "You think ahead."

"I can't afford not to." He answered. "Not anymore."

Mogrin turned to face him, a serious expression crossed his features.

"Listen." He warned. "they may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry, you best watch yourself."

Rillick nodded. "You too, Mogrin."

Mogrin held out his hand and Rillick followed suit. They grasped each other's wrists.

"You're a good man Rillick." He said. "I hope you find your wife and son."

"Thank you." He answered. He then turned to Duhane, who now joined his father's side.

He knelt to his level. "Godspeed, Duhane. Take care of your father now."

Duhane smiled. "Yes, sir."

"And thanks for looking after Fjord for me. She appreciates it."

Mogrin picked up the rickshaw full of weapons and Rillick picked up a bag for himself, along with his own kite shield. If he arrived at Neverwinter, they may appreciate a few more weapons.

As they were about to leave, they all heard a noise. Snarling, like a walker. They looked around and Rillick's heart sank.

"Le'undri?"

Sure enough, the elf, dressed in his uniform, pressed himself against the metal bars of the gates, reaching out at them.

Rillick walked slowly towards him.

"I didn't think much of him." He lamented. "He was careless and dumb, but..." He turned around to face Mogrin who was a few metres behind him. "I can't leave him like this."

He turned to face Le'undri's dead form reaching out at him. "You two go. I'll handle it."

Mogrin nodded and picked up the rickshaw. They both departed for their journey back to their house.

Rillick strode forward, unsheathing his shortsword. Using the shield to keep the arm from grabbing him, he rested the tip of the blade between Le'undri's eyes, and drove it into his head.

Upon hearing the sound of hooves on stone, Mogrin turned around to see his friend riding down the path on his steed. He lifted his hand and waved. Rillick did the same and they left in the opposite direction of each other.

The last board was hammered into the wall, blocking the window. Mogrin tested the wooden boards to make sure they were in place. He picked up a fur blanket and nailed the corners into the wall. When he was satisfied he moved away from the windows and picked up his bow and arrows resting against the wall near the doorway.

She wasn't there. When last Rillick passed the communal garden, the undead halfling woman was lying in the grass at the front entrance. She must have moved further in. He dropped from his horse and wondered through the gate.

"Read your books awhile. Papa is going to the roof."

Duhane stared at his father for a long time. He seemed to understand what he was going to do. Mogrin dropped and embraced him into his arms.

"I'll be careful." He whispered in his ear. "Stay here, son. Just stay inside."

He gently pushed Duhane away and stood up, wiping the tears from his eyes. he made his way out the front door. Duhane ran into his bedroom and shoved his face into the pillow.

Walking through the array of wilted flowers, dying plants and overgrown weeds, Rillick searched for her. So much time has passed, even with no legs she could be anywhere by now.

He never had much interest in becoming a globe-hopping adventurer, saving the world from doom but he felt he did not have much choice. As a guard, it was his sworn duty to protect Balder's Gate and if that means saving the world, then so be it.

As he walked down the path in silence he thought about her before she became one of them. Who was she? He wondered. Did she have children? A husband? What was her fears, desires and goals? What did she want to do that she will now never do?

The ladder leaned on the side of the house. Every rung Mogrin touched was a great effort. The closer he got to the top, dread built higher and more intense. But he knew he had to do this. He will do it.

He reached the top and sat on the top of the wedge. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather-bound book and opened it. It was his wife's poetry. He was never into poetry, but as he read he marvelled at the words written. Every letter carefully crafted with emotion. He turned the pages, taking in every word written in the small book. Soon he could hardly make them out as tears slowly flooded his vision.

In the distance, he could see a shape. Rillick hastened his steps and walked over to it. Sure enough, it was her.

He knelt down to her level. She heaved herself forward with her two arms, seemingly unaware of his presence. He observed the sad image before him. Her innards trailing behind her, the pale, dry skin and the rotten teeth.

He's seen undead before. He's even killed a few of them. But these things didn't seem like any undead. Mogrin called them "Walkers", not simply "Zombies". It was a good a name as any.

Mogrin looked up from the book and peered down at the streets. A lone walker ambled into view. He has put this off for long enough. He lowered the book at his feet and took a small wooden horn from his pocket. He took a deep breath and blew into the instrument as hard as he could.

The resonating sound echoed through the city. The walker on the ground turned and headed his way. He nocked an arrow and released it. It flew straight into its head and it dropped onto the ground. Soon more walkers arrived. He studied the faces of each of them, but there was no one he recognised.

"Papa!" He heard a voice from inside.

"It's all right Duhane!" He called back.

He shot another arrow into a walker's head. Another one followed suit. This is what would happen. No screaming, no pain, and she will be free.

Through the crowd of snarling faces, he saw her.

His wife.

Rillick heard the faint noise of a horn in the distance. He lifted his head at the sound. At his feet, the halfling began to snarl. He looked down as she turned her head towards him. He stepped back. She reached an arm out at him, trying to grab him in her dead hands.

He rose to his feet and drew his longsword, her outstretched arm following him. He raised his sword and stopped. His thoughts wandered to the day before this all happened. The warg he killed. He couldn't help but think how funny this was. Here he was, killing again to end one's torment despite the fact that this was the reason he was almost killed.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

He brought the sword down into her head. Her arm dropped and she was still.

"Jen'i... my love."

Mogrin pulled back the string and aimed it at her head. He froze as Jen'i stopped and stared straight at him. She was so beautiful, Mogrin thought, even as a walker she is still so beautiful.

The shaft of the bow creaked at the strain. He stared at her, willing himself to let go.

Let go. Tears emerged again, let go.

All he had to do was straighten his two fingers and he can end his wife's torment. Let go!

He loosened the slack and keeled over his knees.

"Come on!" He hissed through his teeth, "come on!"

He pulled at the string again and aimed at her. The two remained looking into each other's eyes until the bell-tower began to chime once again. Her eyes pulled away and she turned and walked away as Mogrin continued to point his bow at the back of her head.

Mogrin threw the bow onto the floor in a fit of rage. It bounced and slid down onto the ground. He buried his head into his knees and sobbed furiously.

Fjord and Rillick galloped away from the bell-tower as quickly as possible. Whoever sounded the horn it sounded like it came from Mogrin's area. Hopefully this will keep the walkers at bay for him. He looked up and saw a dove flying overhead.

Greetings Captain of the Neverwinter guard.

I hail from Baldur's Gate. I am approaching Neverwinter along the High Road. If you get this message, I have weapons and supplies with me and my swordarm is strong.

Torm watch over us.

Rillick rolled the small piece of paper into a cylinder and picked up the cooing dove on his shoulder. he took some string from his pack and tied it to its leg.

"I need you to go to 'Neverwinter'." Rillick instructed the bird. "Not Mogrin this time."

The creature, which Rillick has come to call "Dio", began to eagerly flap his wings to begin his journey. Rillick lightly threw Dio up in the air where he immediately flew towards the rising sun to the city. He watched him for a while until he was out of sight. He pulled himself up onto Fjord, who was munching the dry grass on the side, and continued his journey.

"Mogrin will have to go without a message this time" Rillick said to Fjord. "It's best if whoever was in charge in Neverwinter knew someone was coming with possibly much needed supplies."

High above the ground, a small dove soared through the air towards his destination with a small note tied to his leg. It took him several hours to reach it but when he did he noticed the city did not seem to be doing very well. He circled it a few times searching for a person of authority to deliver the somewhat uncomfortable message to.

Then, on a hill, Dio spotted smoke rising through the trees of forest. He flew towards it, hoping someone there will take the message.

Dall looked up from the campfire he was nursing. He placed his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun as a white dove fluttered onto the ground. He stared at the bird, perplexed at how tame it seemed to be.

A half-elf crept carefully towards it, in hopes of not scaring it off. Without warning, it flew up onto her shoulder. She made a surprised shriek and nearly fell over. Dall did his best to hide his amusement.

After she composed herself, she untied the string and rolled out the paper to read it as Dall walked up over her shoulder.

"Baldur's Gate?" She exclaimed, after reading the contents. "I didn't know anyone was left there."

Dall wandered around to face her. "If it's addressed to Neverwinter, he must not have realised what has happened."

"We have to write them back. Warn them."

Dall shook his head. "We used up our paper. He have nothing left."

"Damn it!" The half-elf shook her fist in anguish.

They looked up to see three humans walking towards them. Dall knew the dark brown haired woman in the torn dress to be Lorelai, the late guard captain's wife, and the child following close by was her son was Chorrol. The large man in front was a guard from Baldur's Gate and has kept his armor and shield. He always made Dall nervous when he was around, something about him told Dall to not trust him. He searched desperately for his name. That's right! He thought triumphantly. It was Shaan.

"These messenger doves are from the barracks I'd wager." He said, burying his axe on a nearby stump. "A guardsman there must still be alive, maybe Le'undri or Lon. Be good to see either one of those bastards again."

"There are others," Lorelai stated. "Not just us."

Shaan turned to her. "We knew there would be, right? That's why we have our doves." He motioned to a shoddy, makeshift cage made of sticks where five doves perched in a line near the ox cart.

Lorelai sneered at the birds. "A lot of good they've been doing."

"Hey." Said Shaan forcefully, "it's not their fault."

She quickly changed the subject. "I've been saying for weeks we should put up signs along the high road and warn people away from the city."

The half-elf leapt to Lorelai's defence. "People have no idea what they're getting into."

"Well," Shaan said, annoyed, "we haven't had time."

"I think we should make time" Lorelai hissed.

"Yes, well. That's luxury we can't afford." He moved closer to her. "We are surviving here. We are day-to-day."

After standing quietly listening to the kerfuffle, Dall finally spoke to Lorelai. "Then who in the hells would you propose to send?" As much as he hated to admit it, Shaan did have a point.

"I'll go." Lorelai quickly exclaimed to the old man. "Give me a horse."

"Nobody goes alone." Shaan said as gently as he could despite his limited patience. "You know that."

Lorelai glared at Shaan for a whole minute until turning and walking away. "Yes, sir." She said through her teeth.

Shaan watched Lorelai storm towards her tent. He sighed. Gods, he thought. Rillick made leading look easy. He looked down to see Chorrol looking up at him with a concerned look on his face. He knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, "take a seat, friend, you're all right."

The boy lingered for a while before reluctantly running off to the oxen. Shaan watched him for a short while before running after her.

Lorelai stormed through the narrow clearing towards her tent. She knew all too well that Shaan was right, but she couldn't help but feel angry at him. An innocent person will be torn to shreds by those undead monsters and he wouldn't let her do anything about it.

"Hey! Do I vex you?!"

A voice cut through the peaceful buzzing of insects. It startled her somewhat but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that fact. She almost tore the flaps off her tent. Seconds later Shaan emerged behind her.

Shaan stood at the entrance staring at the back of her head for a long time searching for the right words to say. Finally he drew a deep breath and spoke.

"You can be angry all you want." He began carefully. "It's not going to change a thing. I'm not putting you in danger, ok? I'm not doing that for anything"

He paused to let his words sink in. The silence almost made him run out or let her have her way, but he held strong. He grasped her shoulder and slowly turned her around.

"If that makes you feel like you want to slap me upside the head, tell you what, love, you go ahead," he explained, realizing this may be a bad idea, "I'm right here. Go on."

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief when she did nothing but stare defiantly at him. He continued.

"You cannot walk off like that, half-tempered." He said, as gently as he could. "If you don't want to do it for my sake, that's fine. just do it for him."

He placed a hand on her back and slowly pulled her towards him. She moved rigidly but didn't resist.

"That boy has been through too much and he's not losing his mother too, ok?"

Lorelai couldn't bring herself to look at him. She stared at the ground in silence. She was already convinced before but now he dared to bring Chorrol into the equation. Part of her wanted to slap him, wrestle free of his grasp and run off into the forest. But all she could do was nod.

"Ok?" Shaan's voice was barely audible.

Finally she raised her head to look at him.

"I'm a good mother." She whispered to him, as if he needed a reminder. Perhaps it was more to remind herself.

"You tell me ok." He whispered back to her.

She tried to tell him but something stopped her. Made her hold her tongue. She noticed her eyes shift away from Shaan's face and onto the ground again. She heard him chuckle quietly.

"It's not hard." He smiled, and gently lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Alright? Hey."

He planted his lips onto hers. Lorelai awkwardly kissed him back with his as his hand reached around her neck.

"Mother?"

A small voice from outside made both of them snap back in surprise. Without another word Shaan hastily exited the tent passing Chorrol on the way.

"What comes?" He said, trying his best to sound natural. "She's in there. Go on."

Chorrol gave him a confused glance but shrugged it off and walked into the tent.

"Hey." Lorelai hushed, lowering herself to his level. "I don't want you to worry. Mother's not going anywhere, ok?"

Chorrol looked relieved and nodded his head. Lorelai mimicked his movements.

"Yes?" She assured, and smiled. "Go finish your jobs."

"Ok." He said, and scampered out.

Lorelai let out a sigh and sat down on her bedroll. She needed to get her mind off the drama that unfolded. She leant over and picked up her poetry book and opened it to the page of the poem she was working on. She picked up her quill and set to work. She was nearly finished with her current poem. She just needed a good ending.

With very little food or water, Rillick and Fjord pressed on along the Highroad. He did his best to forget what happened only a few days ago. He understood that the elf child was already dead but it still horrified him. He feared what this plague would do to him.

A few hours later he looked up to see a small farm-house to his right. He looked down at Fjord, who was practically shaking by that point. There has to be water here. He silently begged.

He pulled Fjord to a stop and climbed off the poor, dehydrated animal and lead her up the dirt path.

"Hello?!" He called out as he walked to the rickety wooden gate. "Watchman out here!"

He waited at the gate, but no sound was heard. He cautiously pushed the gate open and slowly walked up to the steps of the front door.

He called again. "My horse needs water. Can I borrow some?"

Still no answer.

As he got nearer he began to smell the putrid scent of rotting flesh. As he got closer he saw two bodies. A male and a female, both human, lying at the open doorway. The male had a large sword impaled through his chest while the woman had a gash across her throat as if someone slit it with a dagger. Rillick looked away from the grizzly sight. He would feel remorse but he has seen so much death now that he was beginning to feel numb to it, and that sickened him.

His focus turned to Fjord again and he began walking around to the back. He made a not so silent silent prayer as he approached a stable. He opened the door and peered into the darkness. in the far corner he could just make out a trough. His heart lept with joy when he opened the door all the way to reveal the trough full of water. He could feel Fjord's excitement too as she snorted and pushed her way into the barn towards the trough, practically pulling him with her. With a smile he let go of the reins and watched her walk up and eagerly drink her long awaited fill.

Rillick looked around inside the large empty stable. Stacks of hay towered in small fenced in alcoves on either side of him, some larger than others. In the corner with Fjord was a bale tied together with rope and a pitchfork stuck in the top. He wrinkled his nose. The stable certainly had the smell of one. Though it was a welcome change to the usual smell of rotting flesh.

"You there! Turn around slowly and drop your weapons."

A voice rung from behind him. it's voice sounded male, but deeper. He rose his hands above him as instructed and slowly turned around. Standing at the doorway, partially blocking the midday sun was a centaur. In his hands was a large longbow, an arrow nocked in it and pointing towards him. He could tell from his body language he was nervous. He took a step forward.

"Easy now," he said as gently as he could, "I mean you no harm."

The centaur said nothing, only shuffled back and pulled further on the string. Rillick continued.

"You have every right to be suspicious. I'm not here to hurt anyone. nothing like that. I am only here for some water for my horse."

He moved slightly to the side to reveal Fjord, who was munching on the bale of hay. Then he lowered his hand and unbuckled his belt that held his swords. The centaur loosened the string but continued to eye him cautiously. He tossed the belt a few feet away and returned his hand above his head. After a long silence, the centaur lowered his bow and Rillick did the same with his arms.

"You must forgive me." He said, securing his bow around his torso, "but you can not afford to not be careful these days."

Rillick nodded in agreement.

"I understand. What brings you here? I wouldn't have thought to see your kind around here."

They walked outside.

"I was split up from my herd when the zombies attacked." He began. "That would have been over a week now. I don't know what happened to my brethren but I saw many fall. Now I am just trying to survive."

"You don't have a plan?" Rillick asked.

"None, I am afraid."

Rillick pondered for a while. Fjord must've finished now so it was a good idea to carry on while the day was still relatively young. But he couldn't just leave his new friend. Suddenly he had an idea. He turned to face him.

"I have a proposal." He said perhaps a bit too enthusiastic.

The centaur turned his head to the side to look at him.

"You.. do?" He asked, a little confused.

"Neverwinter's just down the road a ways." He told him. "It's safe there. Food, shelter, people. Perhaps even some of your people. I see no reason why they won't take you in."

He stared at Rillick with an expression that was unreadable to him.

"You seem quick to trust me, a complete stranger." He said finally.

Rillick smiled slightly. He had a point. "It's been a long time since I spoke to anyone that can speak back." He said. "But considering what I offer you, it would be foolish to cut me down, which, I remind you, you could've done already."

The centaur scoffed. "You speak the truth. Very well, I will go with you to Neverwinter."

Satisfied, Rillick pick up the belt on the ground and fastened around his waist.

"Glad to hear it." He said. "By the way, my name's Rillick Grimoire. What's yours?"

Rillick walked back into the stable and climbed onto Fjord's back. His new companion waited outside with crossed arms.

"Alenn." He answered. "Call me Alenn."

Rillick and his new friend travelled together in silence, with occasional bursts of casual conversation. They spoke of their previous lives before the plague hit. Rillick relayed his exploits as a guard, and Alenn spoke animatedly of his herd and family. They did their best to drown out the horrors surrounding them.

On the path ahead of them, Rillick saw a small group of dead bodies halfway concealed in the long yellow grass. He pulled the reins, driving Fjord to a halt and held out a hand to stop Alenn. He put a finger to his lips. Alenn nodded after noticing the danger Rillick warned.

Rillick climbed off his horse and drew his longsword. He slowly approached the decaying bodies, the all too familiar scent growing stronger. As he neared he noticed long matted fur, short claws on gnarled fingers and the head that resembled a dog. Gnolls. He waited, anticipating them leaping up and throwing themselves onto him to tear at his flesh. He prepared for a tough fight from the heightened strength of a creature that was already more powerful alive, but it didn't come. He stood over the three bodies, his sword at the ready. They remained still.

He heard hoofsteps from behind him. "At least it is not us."

Without looking behind, he knelt down to the corpse. He saw the wounds where their necks and parts of their shoulder were violently shredded. Rillick frowned.

"That's... strange." He muttered, "given the smell and the colour of the blood, they've been dead for a while."

Alenn crossed his arms. "Your point?"

Rillick rose and circled around to another body, kneeling down again. "No doubt these wounds are from walkers. Not even regular zombies leave that big a bite-mark, but, I see no other fatal injuries. Shouldn't they have risen by now?"

He looked behind and up at Alenn, who shook his head.

"Then you do not know. It only seems to affect your kind."

"My kind?" Rillick rose an eyebrow.

"Yes. Humans, dwarves, elves and such. Even half-orcs. But not beast races or hybrids like myself."

"Before I came to the farmhouse my soul mate and I were the only survivors of my herd." He clarified after noting Rillicks questioned expression. "We rested in a small abandoned village but we did not realise the townsfolk were still in there. I fought the best I could but in the end Dona was bitten. We ran from that accursed place and she died in my arms." He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to keep his composure. "She did not turn though. I waited for that rasping breath that would give me no choice but to... you know. She never did."

Rillick looked at the cobblestones, thinking back to Mogrin. "You're very lucky. To not live that burden."

Alenn quickly wiped a tear from his eye in the hopes the human did not notice him. "In any case." He said, trying to lighten the mood. "That means we do not have to worry about giants or the like."

At one time, Rillick would've laughed and agreed dramatically, but it did not seem appropriate at the time, so he remained silent as he walked back to Fjord to continue the journey.

Once again, the two travelled in silence, only this time there was no conversation. Maybe they exhausted all topics, or maybe they were fully aware of the situation the world was in. Whatever the reason, the only sound to be heard was the wind rustling the leaves of the various trees dotting the landscape and the hooves of Fjord and Alenn on the stone.

The three stopped in front of a labyrinth of abandoned carts snaking all the way to the magnificent shining city of Neverwinter. They looked up in awe at the spires of the castle that touched the clouds. It certainly was a shining beacon of hope. He grinned excitedly at Alenn, who was visibly relieved the journey was over.

"Let's go." He said quickly, and drove Fjord into a trot. Alenn trotted slightly behind them.

They weaved through the wooden maze all the way up to the gate, only to discover that the drawbridge was lowered. Rillick looked up. No one on the battlements. He frowned in confusion.

"This is strange," he muttered. "I don't see anyone. There should be a lot more patrols than... well, no one."

Alenn shook his head. "I do not like this. Something does not seem right."

Rillick peered though the entrance into the seemingly empty city, with a feeling of unease. He dismounted Fjord and left her on the grass to the side, not bothering to tie her so that she could flee if need be.

"You are not going to go in with her?" Alenn asked.

Rillick turned to face him. "I agree with you. Something's not right. If that is the case, then I'd rather not lose my best horse."

Alenn nodded once in agreement and together, they entered the city.

The two crept through the merchant's quarter, their faces wrought with worry. They passed broken windows, unhinged doors, Parchment dancing in the slight breeze and wooden boxes scattered carelessly around, and not a soul to be found.

"Should there not be people here?" Asked Alenn. "I thought you said this place was fortified."

Rillick did not respond. He continued through the mall stands and into the rat infested areas of the docks district. The district was littered with barricades of crates and barrels stacked onto each other. They walked side-by-side through the narrow makeshift corridor through to the jetties where there were no ships harboured. Only one remained and it was halfway sunk in the water, the nose pointed at the late afternoon sun. Rillick's fear and dread grew stronger and Alenn also wore a concerned frown. They continued towards the city core.

Through the streets, Alenn tapped Rillick's shoulder frantically.

"Rillick. Look."

He followed where he was pointing and saw four dead bodies sprawled out over a wagon. Rillick and and Alenn took a few steps back as one rose its head. The rest followed suit and began to move and shamble towards them. Alenn pulled the bow from his back and nocked an arrow. Before he could pull the string, Rillick reached out to stop him.

"There's just a few." He said as calmly as he could. "Nothing we can't outrun."

After a moment's hesitation, Alenn sheathed the arrow back in his quiver and they jogged along with the walkers hissing and gasping behind them.

"We're almost at the castle." He said quickly between breaths.

They slowed to a fast walk and passed the shops and the famous Moonstone Mask, which Rillick would've acknowledged if they weren't in such a hurry. Littering the ground, Rillick began to notice various swords, spears and crossbows as well as various pieces of armor littered about. They stopped and Rillick turned his head at the sound of ravens cawing.

"I do not think we should be here." Said Alenn shakily.

He turned and saw Rillick staring wide-eyed at the mangled body of a guardsman on the ground. Ravens busily picked apart his flesh. Alenn placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which broke Rillick's trance. He looked up sadly, then turned away and continued towards the castle without a word.

They crept along, sneaking past the occasional collection of walkers. Rillick spotted the temple of Tyr come into view, with its clock-tower looming overhead. But his focus shifted suddenly as he heard a booming roar above him. He rose his head up at the sky to try to locate the sound, listening intently for a second. The next roar came behind him. He jerked his head around excitedly, listening again. Another roar. He glanced at the clock-tower and saw the reflection of a creature emerge from behind a tall building. It was dark and with big, long wings, bits of metal glinting in the sunlight. An armored wyvern! He could just make out the dot of another figure on its back. He spun around to face Alenn.

"It's a wyvern rider! Come on!"

They ran, trying to catch up with the creature. Alenn disappeared from Rillick's view as he rounded a corner ahead of him. When it was his turn, he found himself right in the path of a wall of thousands of stumbling, shambling walkers. There were so many, he could not see a thing past them. He saw Alenn as he lifted a walker and threw it into the crowd.

"Get off me you blighted fiend!" he shot out his hind legs. It connected with one walker, whose head splattered like a melon.

The walkers began to surround him as he struggled to move towards Rillick, punching, kicking and throwing many as he moved. He roared in pain as an elf bit into his front leg. He wrenched it free and crushed its skull in his powerful hand.

"Go! Get out of here!" he cried as another sunk its teeth into his arm.

It took every ounce of his will to turn and run the opposite direction. As Alenn fought desperately against the unstoppable hoard, the rest passed him to pursue Rillick.

Rillick sprinted through the street. The sound of rasping and growling were heard in the distance behind him. He started to round a corner but stopped suddenly in front of another mass of dead flesh lurching towards him. With the momentum of his run, arms flailing wildly, he turned and ran the other way, but stopped again as yet another army blocked his path. He looked back from where he came. The first hoard closed in behind him. He was surrounded on all sides.

"Oh, hells." He muttered under his breath, looking around with escalating panic.

He could feel his usual calm and collected nature sapping away with each step of the three encroaching crowds. He drew his sword and awaited an opportunity, no matter how small. Then, in the middle of the hoard, he saw a figure galloping towards him, barrelling over many walkers on the way. Alenn leapt over the last remaining walkers and landed squarely on two at the front, crushing them underneath his hooves. He tore the walker latched on his shoulder and threw it back into the crowd.

"I thought you were dead!" Rillick shouted over the chorus of moans.

"I am!" he yelled back. "Go!"

Rillick ran towards a break in the onslaught, cutting them down left and right with his sword. He threw himself into a small alleyway. Looking back, he saw Alenn as he toppled over, roaring in rage and pain as the creatures swarmed over him until he was covered in a writhing mass. He tore himself from the grim sight of his friend and surged forward into the opening on the other side, only to once again be flanked by walkers from all angles. Some were shambling towards him from the alleyway. He backed away from the narrow opening.

"Oh great Tyr, Chautea, Torm..."

He swung his sword and beheaded a walker to the side. He stepped back. He pushed one with his boot as it got too close and drove it into its head. He stepped back. He cleaved the top halves of the heads of two and they collapsed to the ground. He stepped back.

He shrieked in shock as his foot caught on something, and plummeted onto the ground. He cried out in aggravated anger as a walker crawled over and grabbed his leg. He grabbed a nearby round shield that must've belonged to the dead guard beneath his feet, and jammed the edge into it's jaw and dragged himself backwards and into a sitting position.

The empty area Rillick found himself in was growing smaller every second, swallowed up by the hoard. He darted his head around and then to his shortsword. He pulled it out and stared at the sharp tip, and all the fear he felt drained away.

He lifted his sword with the tip pointing at his heart. He stared straight ahead into nothingness, ignoring the wave of death almost upon him. There was only one way out of this, he thought, at the very least he will not allow himself to become one of them.

"Lorelai, Chorrol," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

He jerked his arm to the side, causing the sword to clatter on the ground a few feet away from him. He fell onto his hands and scrambled over to the dead guard. Something caught his eye. A glint of something caught in the sunlight. With sweat pouring from his forehead, he grabbed the body and heaved it with all his might. His muscles cried out and threatened to tear from his arms. From underneath the guard, he quickly grabbed the jewelled staff and it landed back on the ground with Rillick's relived grunt.

Rillick's brain was frantic, driven only by panicked adrenaline. He could barely register what he was doing as he smacked the light blue jewel with the palm of his hand.

"How does this thing work?"

The walkers were almost on top of him now. Only inches of unoccupied space left. He rose the staff over his head, and, with a cry, he brought the pommel down hard on the stone at his feet. There was a crack of energy from underneath. A pale blue aura burst out of the staff's gem at the top and expanded, catapulting the walkers through the air and into walls and other walkers. It stopped a few meters around the staff and the walkers that ran into it were forcefully thrown back.

Rillick felt himself gain control again. Panting heavily he looked around to discover he was inside a magic barrier created by the staff. He let out a long sigh of relief.

"By the gods!"

As he regained his breath he picked up his longsword, sheathed it and moved towards his shortsword. Before he could react, he heard a growl below him and something grab his foot. He toppled over and smashed the side of his head into the hard stone. Everything was spinning, but he heard a growl, felt something crawl on top of him, and a blurry image emerged and snapped at his face as he lay on his back.

He grasped the thing by the throat and somehow the fingers on his other hand managed to wrap around his shortsword. He jammed the blade into the head, but it bounced off the metal helmet it wore. He tried again, all the while its rotten, deformed teeth snapped and clamped millimetres from his face. Neck, helmet, shoulder, head. The blade burst out the other side of the walker's head and the creature collapsed on top of him. He lay motionless for a few seconds underneath the corpse, savouring the moment of rest, then hauled it off the body and wrenched the shortsword out of the walker. After wiping the blood off, he stood up, sheathed it and picked up the staff. He leant his weight on it, contemplating on how to get out of this tricky situation.

"Hey you!"

A voice rang out from amongst the gargles and snarls. It was above him.

"Orcwit!"

Rillick looked up and squinted against the sun. He saw the figure of an elf kneeling on the roof of the building nearest to him. He noticed some of the walkers began to turn to the sound but the elf did not seem phased in the slightest.

"Yeah, you inside the barrier! You cosy in there?! Well it ain't gonna last!"

Riding through the meadows in the Multiverse Inn,

Mapping out planes of existence of the place I know and seen.

Shifting through the systems for the piece that knows thy name,

Endlessly I listen in the master game.

Welcome to my plane. Welcome to my only plane. It is full of endless abyss.

But your words are coming through. I'm gliding in the abyss.

And it's bringing me to you.

(Excerpt from Lorelai's Book of Poetry.)