These new people betrayed the new father. They thought I didn't see father's things gaping from there packs, they were going to stab me in the back. Why else would that clumsy fool of a crusader go with me. no one ever takes me seriously. Who would take Anyone named Blim seriously?
When the bounty hunter and scoundrel left to scout out more of the ruins I swing my heaviest chain at the Crusader why was cleaning his helmet. He goes out like the weak skull he is. I heft all the bags on my back and creep back the way we came. I fantasize of how father will praise me when I step on a old bone. Under all the weight the bone gives a thunderous crack. Fast past ratting comes from my right. I will not risk the father's goods to get ruined, I would rather die then displease father.
My veins bulge a poisonous green but I must push it down. I sprint down the hall and see the way out block by a sheld wall. At this point I think I might die in these old halls.
I push down that traitorous thought while I run down the way we haven't been. As I round a corner a skeleton throws liquid in my face. A wave of rage wash's into me as I ram into over it, trampling over him I feel as bones crake as I continue to run. There must be a place to hide here not infested with the undying.
A loud snap sounds and I jump, if not for the weight I would be fine. A gaping hole in the leg is my reward for my incompetence. I try to force the wound to close but continue to run as I hear the skittering coming back. I slow from the loss of life blood.
After to long of stumping through a hall I stop at the sight of a low red light. I creep up to the half opened door and freeze at the sight within.
Six heathens surround the Bounty Hunter chanting in a low tone. One crested in gold robes holds in his hand a book I know was masters. I look around the room of horrors. Staked bodes on the walls and floor cover most of it.
The over weak skull is among the bodies. I creep in and close the door. I start to heal myself as I creep to his body. Adding his things to the bags I creep up to the gold garbed chanter.
As I grab father's book the Bounty Hunter screens in pain as a glob of questionable origins flouts above him. The heathen shouts in shock as I yank the book out of his hand. Tendrils shoot out of the orb and start eating all the bodies, chanters included in the unholy feast.
I try not look at the painfully bright light and grab the last of the bags and run. I make it two steps when the door smashed open. Running into the room was the traitorous crusader.
He locked eyes with me for the first time in my life and charged. As he slashed me across the chest there was a sound of glass shattering
and without warning a strong pulls me back. The last thing I see is his slimy grin and a horde of undead coming through the door.