They are out there...HUNT THE DEAD!

Yebbel stood in the town square alone. His goblin tribe mates had all escaped and abandoned him, in typical goblin fashion.

Calhera and Popurum had forced the goblin mayor to reveal the truth of the grove, Mistress Hearthrow, and the vile murders to the villagers. No one had compassion for Yebbel. And all of them called for his death.

The stones flew pelting Yebbel. Within minutes he lay dead. Stoning one to death never took long. And how fitting it was, that a form of nature ended this vile creatures ambitions, or at least Calhera surmised.

The villagers were all awkward toward Calhera. They all knew they had judged her unfairly. None knew what to say. Calhera didn't want their apologies. Her lot in life was to live amongst the trees and streams, the poppy fields, and the grove...

********************************************************
40 Weeks Later....
********************************************************
Calhera lay in her and Popurum's bed, with sweat on her brow. She had had the longest night of her life, that resulted in the purest of love.

Her's and Popurum's child had been born. A boy.

Popurum had built a wonderful cabin where the grove had once been. And it was there where there child first let out his small cries of life. The birth was a difficult one, with the cord wrapped around the child's throat. But Popurum had been amazing at delivering his son.
********************************************************
4 Months Later....
********************************************************
The two of them stood outside. An odd wizard by the name of Gerald had agreed to help them. Popurum knew he would never belong in this time of The Dawn. And it broke his heart so. He didn't want to leave. Calhera saw every day the ache of the riverfolk longing for his own time. And so they argued like any husband and wife would. And they made passionate love as well when they came to an agreement.

Calhera would never be alone again. She had their son. And Popurum knew he would one day see a spark of her joyful spirit in the eyes of their Great-Great-Grandson.

And so Gerald agreed, and helped to perform the ritual needed to send Popurum back to his own time.

The two held each other for a long moment. Gerald was patient. He knew this was hard for them both.

Popurum kissed his son gently on his forehead. And then he kissed his wife, Calhera one final time.

"Forever," she said to him speaking of their love that even time could not break.

"Forever," he replied.

And then he stepped into the portal.

*****************************************************************
TIME: 6 A.R.
*****************************************************************
Popurum sat on the roof of the building inside of the cavern looking down at the Sprinters and Horde Zombies ransacking the town. The undead had even made it here, to The Long Reach.

"I'll make you proud, Calhera," he spoke softly, knowing somewhere, somewhen, she would hear him.

Her remembered back to the day his son, a half elf/half riverfolk had been born. When Calhera had named the small infant boy.

"We'll call him, Aldion. And his son will be called Aldion. And his son. And his son. And so on."

Popurum smiled.

The End.

Steam rose from cauldrons, filling the room with as vile smelling mist. He was accustomed to it. One didn't tamper with the dark sorts of magic, without learning to deal with unkind smells.

Tallok had been practicing the incantation for hours, silently, of course. It had to be perfect, no mistakes could be afforded.

The shambling monster was bound by leather, it moaned and writhed under its constraints, it craved flesh, it needed it. The throat of Tallok's assistant was still in the beasts maw, but it still hungered, even more so, he judged.

He moved over to his table and searched his notes, making a quick jot. He eyed the creature, detailing its appearance and demeanor, it would be important for comparison afterwards.

He felt prepared, or so he thought.

He clasped his pendant tightly, holding 3 glass beads with his other hand. He closed his eyes and chanted, saying the words he'd practiced for hours, days, weeks even, but still, they felt alien to him. He could feel power in them though, power he was channeling, power he had complete control over.

The beast lurched for him, but the bonds held. His concentration held, it had to.

The monster growled.

Tallok continued to chant.

The beast was silent, completely.

He paid no heed.

The nearly fleshless fingers began to unbuckle the straps.

Tallok's eyes remained shut.

The zombie looked upon itself, disgusted, comprehending. He eyed the black robed figure and walked, as ably as he could in life, to him.

The mage opened his eyes, and looked upon the upright, strong abomination with elation. "It worked!" he sceamed, he'd found a cure for, a cure for the undeath that plagued the land. "People will worship me for this!"

The zombie grasped Tallok's throat. Most of his flesh was gone, and his tendons and muscles could be seen tightening, as he clenched the magi's throat. "They will worship a man, who let his own son be turned? Just for his greed?"

Tallok could not speak, for his shock and the tightening grasp on his throat.

The zombie continued, "I know what you did, I remember everything, I remeber you, luring me to my death. You doing the very same to all of your assistants. I enjoyed eating them, I still savor the last one, buyt I hunger, father. I hunger worse than before."

"Br- Brian," Tallok managed to whisper.

"Call me Genesis now. You're right, I am the start of something, a new breed of undeath," Genesis smiled wryly. "You know, father, as a mindless beast, I enjoyed devouring flesh, but now, now that I can see the look on your face, the terror, I will REALLY enjoy this."

Tallok tried to speak, but he could only scream, as his son began to devour him alive...

Kalan ran as fast as he could along the docks of Port Skell. The Knights of Tomath weren't fooling around this time. They chased yelling a gaggle of insults, one of which Kalan had to admit was actually true (something about his mother working in a brothel).

Kalan ducked around a corner of a building. He could hear the Knights closing in, but he leaned against the wall to try to catch his breath.

As he leaned against the building he all of the sudden heard horrible screams from within.

"Hmmm?" he thought curiously about the scream, and began looking for a window to the building.

Sitting on the dock with his legs hovering over the sea, the feline anivir sits focused and lost in his writings. At moments, you can see his lips move to the words he writes. His pack lay next to him, his tail looped through it, in case.

Journal: "...Some new and exciting findings. The "fuse arrow", as I'm starting to call it, seems to be working well at its objective: to explode and shatter multiple undead with one shot. However, side effects, not considered, have to be viewed for further studies. It would seem upon detonation, the fragile bodies of the undead seem to spread far more effectively than queried.

The macabre debris became a problem when some of the the limbs and other body parts began to rain down upon my group, including one zombie head nearly chomping the toes off a riverfolk. Fortunately, I was at a comfortable range and not subject to the calamity. However, my group became quite miffed at me and abandoned me in Port Skell. I'm waiting on new and more "hearty" adventurers to help me test our arrows."

Aarowic then stood up and stretched, almost purring. He began walking down the lengths of the docks looking for passengers and crew members that would possibly assist him.

Blood drained from his maw, flesh clung to his teeth, but still he hungered. He craved sustenance, the man within shuddered at his horrible acts, but that was fine with him, he wasn't that man any longer. Or any man, for that matter.

His father's home behind him, where would he go? He needed to feed, devour, consume flesh.

He wandered aimlessly, wearing a cloak of his late father. He smelled food, smoked pork meat he thought, but it disgusted him. He fantasized of sinking his teeth into warm flesh, marinated with the still pumping blood that coursed through his prey's veins.

Where food is cooked, there were chef's he surmised. He lowered his head, and began practicing feigning a limp. This done to his satisfaction, he followed the smell to a small farm house.

His ruse worked, as the wife ran to him offering her hand. Her words fell on deaf ears, well, ear, he hadn't noticed until now that his left one was missing. The hunger was to great for him, he heard a buzz in his ears, his thoughts clouding.

Her hand out stretched to him, he grabbed her, and ripped into her forearm. He must have severed an artery, as blood started spraying, soaking his cloak.

The husband charged him, sword arm swinging. The wife fell, presumably dead, and the husband grew more enraged, his careless attacks became completely random. The sword went through Genesis's gut, and was locked in his ribs. He felt nothing.

The undead quickly lurched forward, sinking his teeth deep into the farmer's shoulder. Both were dead, but their flesh was warm, they would make a nice meal, he thought as he dragged them into teh house and dropped them onto the table.

He wasted no time, and went straight for their throats, the most delicious part in his humble opinion. Behind him, he heard crying.

A young boy hid under the bed, shaking from teh sobs that wracked his body. Genesis sneered, grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him from the safe confines of his bed. "You remind me of myself, weak, scared, pathetic. What is the closest city, boy?"

"Po-port skell," answered the lad.

"Good, now then," he set the boy on his feet, but held him still, "I want you to run, run as fast as you can to the Port, tell them of the monster that killed your parents, but don't forget to to tell them taht I spared you and spoke to you. Understand?"

The boy could only nod.

"Now run like hell. For your sake, I hope your parents are enough to satisfy my hunger," he said as he began devouring their flesh...

The screaming was driving Kalan nuts. The half-darkling couldn't fight his curiosity any longer. Perhaps if he saved some woman from being robbed, the Knights would turn their eye to him stealing the loaf of cheese he had taken from Grumester's Grocer.

kalan looked around and saw an empty barrel and pushed it underneath the wiondow and climbed up. He grabbed the ledge of the window and began to pull himself in the building. The screams were coming from right inside this room!

He pushed his head through the silk, pink curtains and saw the causing of the screams.

It certainly wasn't what he expected.

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" the woman screamed.

Kalan slipped and fell. Luckily a large feline aniver was there to break his fall. Both he and the aniver lay on the walk ways of the docks for a moment, dazed. Kalan then opened his eyes, and saw a few buildings away the Knights looking his direction. With the Knights was the very heavy dwarven woman, naked with a sheet wrapped around her to keep her modesty. Standing next to her was a tall, skinny human man with only one leg. He wore a skimpy see through night gown, and for some odd reason had blush and eyeshadow and lipstick on. The dwarven woman screamed and howled in anger pointing at Kalan with a piece of wood that was used as a peg leg, screaming something about "that damn darkling pervert and his disgusting aniver accomplice".

"Uh-oh," Kalan said glancing at Aarowic.

Walking down the street, Aarowic was confident he'd find someone to assist his research. However, he wasn't paying much attention and before he knew it, he was on the ground with a darkling above.

He was oblivious to the dwarf and the man in the gown. He felt something snap. He was so disoriented he didn't mind the cloak covering his front. He was inspecting his quiver. An arrow had broken from the crash. He pulled the broken shaft and held it, protruding beneath his cloak.

And oblivious to everything else he says, "I didn't even get a chance to use this yet."

Erron lifted his gaze across the frozen tundra. The cool crisp night air stung his cheeks. The snow crunched under his boots. The blood seeped from his shoulder.

The Long Reach was as violent a place as were it's people. After Turk'en had banished The Harbinger, the entire nation of Nerin Toth was hunting Erron, blaming him for causing the plague of undead that wracked the world of Aeon. He had bought passage on a minotaur spice trading ship to Kosp. No one in The Long Reach would know of the wicked wicked wicked things he had done. Those deeds so cold that even the icy waters surrounding The Long Reach seemed warm in comparison.

He was horribly wrong. Upon entering the village of Kosp, villagers immediately knew who he was. The creator of the plague. Or so they believed at least.

After capturing him, the village elders chose to execute him. However, before the death sentence could be carried out, one of the elders claimed to have witnessed a vision.

A vision of 4 companions laying seige to Frost Keep. Destroying a powerful being within it. And in turn Kosp would become prosperous in some way not yet known.

Erron didn't care about Kosp, let alone it being prosperous. And he had just regained his soul, only a year ago. he wasn't about to be killed now. He had found peace finally. His wife and son had been dead for several years. And he knew their souls rested comfortably.

And Erron knew suicide was the surest way for their souls to never meet in the after life.

So he chose to do as the village had asked. To invade Frost Keep. To destroy whatever being dwelt there. As for companions to stand at his side, as the elder had proclaimed was the case in his vision, Erron knew nothing of that.

Turk'en and he had parted ways in the minotaur city-state of Riddik months ago. They had been imprisoned, and were to be put to death for crimes neither had committed. Erron escaped. He was never able to find out if Turk'en had escaped.

He had no idea what had become of Aldion. he knew the elf had traveled to Peregren, taking Turk'en's infant son with him, at Turk'en's request, both of them knowing the child wouldn't be safe with Turk'en if Turk'en was being hunted at all times. The bounty on Erron's and Turk'en's heads were to great.

As for the others, the pirate woman and her crew, they had gone their own way as well.

Erron was alone.

Alone and bleeding.

While traveling from Kosp, the same minotaur ship who had brought him to The Long Reach, apparently, had caught up. The minotaurs rode the horses they had been stored on the ship. It was amazing to see horses travel so quickly through snow. But then again, the minotaurs would have made them travel quickly regardless of the terrain.

It was the first mate. Erron had overheard him and the rest of the crew plotting a mutiny. They blamed the captain for taking the shipment of spices to Kosp for such a lower payment than they were accustomed to. The first mate fired his longbow from the back of the horse he rode. The other 6 minotaurs followed suit. Only one of the arrows hit Erron. It pushed it's way through the sleeve of his black leather trench coat, and into his shoulder.

Erron had fallen from the force of the blow, when the arrow hit him. He got up and ran. He ran for nearly an hour straight. The minotaurs followed. But at a very slow pace. Nearly a crawl. They knew what they were doing. Erron had a bounty on his head just like Turk'en had.

No. Not "had". Turk'en was still alive in a prison in Riddik. He had to be. He hoped his friend had not been executed. He knew his hope was slim though.

They were tiring him out. They would stop. Rest their horses. Allow Erron to gain some distance. And then they would use the horses to catch up again.

The snow was so cold.

The wind was so cold.

The calculating minds of the minotaurs following were even colder.

They knew, just as he did, that he was stuck between them and Frost Keep, and whatever dangers the keep held. And they knew he would eventually give in, due to exhaustion.

They followed slowly.

It was so cold.

He could here their mocking laughter.

Very cold.

The hooves of the horses crunch and pound against the frozen tundra as they were pushed to catch up to him.

So cold.

But not as cold.....as the familiar growl he heard.

A pack of 4 undead were just ahead, shambling through the snow.

So cold.

DELETED POST

As the riders draw close, a hatchet comes out from the cold and strikes one of the minotaurs off his steed.

Then, a large man roars into battle with the undead, swinging a massive axe and with a blow wipes one of the undead. As his axe finishes its swing, like a pendulum it swings back and with another forceful attack, the man smashes his weapon managing to crush two more. The frigid air gives a brittle frosted shell to the undead, adding a sickening crack to the shattering bones.

The man wasn't paying attention to the riders, or the other man. All he was concerned with was the undead.

The fourth undead prepared to lunge at Browden, but as he finished his last swing, he thrusts the end of the axe, a spear tip at the head, into the jowls of the zombie. Though freezing, Browden's brow is beaded with moisture. Growing tired, he musters his will to throw the monster to the ground and push the spear tip through the skull.

He backs away, panting, looking to see what the other man was doing.

When the large man entered the fray and took out the undead, it shocked Erron. But at the same time it didn't. It was too dark to see with the clouds covering the moon, so while he wasn't expecting anyone, at the same time one should always expect to expect the unexpected...especially in The Long Reach.

The big man fought against the undead. naturally Erron's first inclination was to be thankful for the assist, but just because this man took down the zombies, didn't mean that he was a friend. For all Erron knew, he could be a Civil Agent.

First things first though, he had to deal with the minotaurs. Either kill them or lose them. Arrow grasped the arrow in his shoulder and ripped it out with a howl;

"Grah!"

he then dropped it in the ground. he had seen the minotaurs reloading. Friend or Foe this man was clearly going to get hit with the raining death of the arrows just as easily as Erron. Add to that, minotaurs weren't ones to tussle with. They were big, strong, and had an odd sense of honor that if they died, they did so for the glory of Riddik....even if they disagreed with the city-states politics. Which all meant that they were essentially death on horseback right now.

"Come on!" Erron yelled grabbing the man by the arm to get his attention, "We have to get out of here! They'll slaughter us," he finished as he ran ahead trying to put as much distance between himself and the minotaurs as possible. He hoped the big man had the sense to follow. Then again Erron was running in the direction of Frost Keep. So at that moment he didn't feel like he had much sense himself.

One of the crew of the minotaurs prepared to spur on his horse to follow.

"Hold, Portak. Let them go....we have steeds. They can run....but they won't escape," the first mate said to his fellow minotaur.

"Grrr. Yes, Isak," Portak replied.

"That's Captain Isak," the first mate who had led the mutiny against their captain replied.

Browden stood there panting after taking out the zombies. He expected the other man to fight with minotaurs. He didn't know why, but he expected to see a pile of dead 'taurs. Instead, the man grabbed his arm and started to lead them away.

Browden complied and followed the man. However, he was running much slower and was carrying the axe. He didn't look back but he thought he heard one of them shout a "stop" order. Still, Browden continued forward, but slowed to a quick walk.

Was that human a threat? Browden didn't get too good a look. He just ran. Browden could just see a light silhouette and walked towards it. He shouldered his axe and felt at his side.

"Damn."

Browden just realized he'd lost his hatchet...

As Browden and Erron made there way across the frozen tundra of The Long Reach they realized they were headed closer and closer to The Impassable Mountains. A mountain range never before crossed. Any explorer who had ever tried had never been heard from again.

"We need to find a cave! Somewhere to get us out of this cold! The villagers in Kosp talked of a storm coming! We have to try to find shelter!" Erron yelled trying to be heard over the howl of the wind, and pushing forward, the wind push back against him, as he headed toward the mountains.

As they walked, Erron glanced behind them. The minotaurs rode slowly on the horses, nearly 100 yards back, their cloaks wrapped tightly around them as the wind pushed even harder. Maybe. maybe it wasn't the minotaurs. It was too dark and the wind was whipping up the snow, blowing it through the air, to be certain.

Erron turned back to face the way they headed. Was this what he had come to? Traveling to the ends of the world, to live as a recluse in some forgotten cave?

Could the ends of the world really hide him from his past sins?

Or were worse atrocities ahead?

Browden stayed silent, preoccupied with the cold. He tried distracting his thoughts so he wouldn't realize just how cold he was.

A cave sounded luxurious, and with each step his hopes grew. As he marched on, he started thinking about why he attacked the undead. He hated em, but what was it to him if the human was saved or not? And why did he attack the minotaur? That would surely hurt him later. Now he was following the human to these mountains.

Certainly, Browden's sanity was in check.

"Damn cold..."

The two walked on, and the wind picked up, and it soon frozen rain began to blow and fall on them.

The blizzard had hit.

"KEEP MOVING!" Erron yelled over the howl of the wind, not knowing if his new found companion was even still with him or not.

Maybe it was a few minutes. Maybe it was a few hours. Regardless it felt like it took forever but eventually the two had reached a large opening in the mountains. Erron didn't bother to to check to see if it was inhabited or not. he didn't care. He was cold, and regretting ever coming to this frozen hell in the first place.

As the two entered, it was pitch black. Erron pulled a torch from his backpack. Everyone carried general equipment such as torches, flint and steel, and rations on them. One never knew if they would be forced from their homes or not.

He lit the torch and held it high. It was no cave they were in.

It was a tunnel.

"Come on. The minotaurs will find this too, and try to get out of the cold themselves," Erron said as he strode forward down the tunnel.

The two walked for nearly forty minutes. The tunnel twisted and turned but there were no off-shoots into other tunnels. Add to that the smell of smoke from somewhere ahead, and Erron stopped dead in his tracks.

"We aren't alone in here. I-I think we're in someone's home."

Browden didn't care if it were a cave, tunnel, or volcano. It was comforting just being out of the wind. As they walked, Browden caught the same smell of smoke. All he could think of was a warm fire.

Erron wrote:
"We aren't alone in here. I-I think we're in someone's home."


"Well, I suppose we can either head back to the cold and 'taurs, or keep going and see who's home. At least there's warmth ahead. And maybe a chance to fix your arm up. You're fortunate to get through the storm like that. Probably."

Browden, regardless of what the other would do, was keen to continue forward. Still, his hand held firm to his weapon, just in case.

Erron and Browden stepped forward. As they walked further down the tunnel, the smoke was thicker, like a dense fog.

And then Erron felt nothing.

He was falling.

He scrambled for something to grab, and grasped a firm handhold on a rock outcropping of the ledge he had just slipped off of. Luckily he didn't fall. He had just lost his footing somewhat, but not being able to see ahead of him certainly made it feel like it.

Wind from the outside wasn't as harsh in the tunnel but a small gust did come through pushing some of the smoke aside.

The tunnel had opened into a huge expanse in front of them. The cliff was a straight drop down, about 200 feet. And at the bottom was a huge city. Houses, Shops, Stables, Inns. A large town would be more accurate.

And it all burned.

Then Erron saw one.

A zombie. It wandered the streets aimlessly.

"Ever go hunting?" Erron asked Browden not take his eyes off of the undead.

The Knights, known for there dedication to protection of the cities and bastions from the undead, came towards the half-darkling and the aniver with swords drawn.

One of the knights started to slash down with his sword at the sight of the animalistic humanoid, intending to kill it.

At the last minute the knights dropped his sword and spun around in pain. A second later he turned back around clenching his wrist as an arrow protruded from it The knight howled in pain. The other knights turned to look in the direction from which the arrow was fired.

"I would advise against spilling more blood before a proper trial has been conducted."

Almost in Unison the Knights yelled, "IT'S HIM!! SOUND THE ALARM! HE MUST NOT ESCAPE!"


Turk'en had come to Port Skell.

Kalan didn't know the archer was who had saved him and the aniver, but it didn't matter. Clearly he was a friend.

Kalan got to his feet and drew out his whip snapping it (not realizing the end of it had sailed over head and behind him snapping the aniver in the chin).

He then snapped it again and wrapped it around one of the legs of one of the Knights tripping him.

He took a step back and snapped the whip again, unraveling it from the Knight's leg (and inadvertently sending it backwards again, this time snapping the aniver in the elbow).

He took another step backward, (accidentally stepping on the ankle of the aniver) and snapped the whip again, this time the end of it snapping another Knight in the back of the neck.

"Don't worry friend. Myself and my darkling apprentice there will protect you," Kalan said to the aniver.

At the first whip crack.

"Agh!"

His chin started to bleed.

*Crack*

"OW!"

His elbow began to bleed.

Then the darkling stepped on his ankle, causing him to fall over (again).

"Ahh!"

Aarowick was hurting from chin to ankle, now.

"They just wanna kill me. They haven't flogged me!"

Despite his shouts, Aarowic was grateful for the archer, and not resentful of the whip one.

However, it didn't seem like the Knights were going to be fair. Fearing he might regret it, Aarowic drew one of his engineered arrows. It didn't look much like an arrow. It fit in the string, and it had a shaft. Other than that, the arrow tip didn't have a piercing point. It had two swollen knitted bags, with strings inside. A thread ran from the bags to the bow string, pulling the bags taught. As he released it, the bags flew open and the strings inside were released.

The bags and string hit one of the Knights. Now, what the arrow was intended for, was to wrap a zombie's head shut making it more difficult to bite some one. What happened to the Knight, however, was the string hitting his face, tangling around his head and obstructing his view. Since the Knight was running, he couldn't stop properly before running into a pole.

Aarowic watched with fascination and pulled out his journal.

"String shot seems to blind target. Note: Current victim is living... (I think)."

There were twelve Knights in all. And they certainly weren't looking to kill anyone. Just maybe arrest them and throw them out of the city (which would essentially be killing them anyways, given that the undead were outside of Port Skell....however these were thieves and the Knights didn't tolerate such scum).

Kalan cracked his whip again (this time hitting Aarowic in the ear) and sent it flying hitting another Knight.

One of the Knights pulled out a small whistle and started blowing it.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

"Uh-oh. They're calling for re-enforcements!" Kalan yelled.

"Apprentice!" he shouted at Turk'en "Hurry and help myself and my steed (he nodded at Aarowic) get out of here before more of them show up!"

The moans and shuffling of the undead was a constant sound for the denizens of Port Skell, but this shriek was unusual, loud enough to be heard throughout the city. The guards at the wall were confused, and angry to be awoken from their naps.

Their ears were ringing, and the noise was loud enough to cause a pounding headache. The undead were going mad it seemed, moving in all directions, searching for the source.

One lone figure, dressed in a black cloak walked calmly through the undead, some even following him, as if they were ordered. The figure walked calmly to the front of the walls, and cast back his hood.

The captain of the guard approached the wall, "What is this? Why is no one attacking these beasts?"

"Because they are as curious as you," said Genesis, smiling at the surprise on their faces. "I come making an offer. We have no wish to attack you, we are not monsters, we simply seek food like every other creature, is that so wrong?"

"You attempt to eat our people, their living flesh!"

"Semantics, food is food," he shrugs. "So will you open your gates, ot these poor citizens that you have wrongly cast out?"

"Never, leave us monster, you and your foul kin!" The captain shouted loudly.

"Poor choice," Genesis made a gesture towards the wall, and three zombies leapt and starting scaling the wall.

"Archers, fire!"

The beasts made it up the wall, pouncing and pinning two of the archers, the third lept onto the captain and starting clawing his face.

Chaos was on the wall, the guards who still lived had no idea how to fight these monsters, and soon fell as well.

The ground started to shake, one guard managed to ring the alarm bell before one of the beasts started tearing into his back.

Re- enforcements came, finally taking down the monsters. In the distance, two hulking forms approached quickly, plowing through zombies and any other obstacle. "Trolls!" one of the guards yelled.

"No no, I like to call them Brutes," Genesis said, as the two giant zombies charged. Archers quickly took action, but the arrows did little or no damage, and could not stop the monsters, as the plowed through the city's walls...

Kalan and everyone else heard the loud wailing. The Knights stopped. Kalan stopped. What was that noise? It souded like undead howling or something? But there were no undead in the city. It was fortified. The howling grew louder, and louder, kalan fell to his knees holding his ears.

"AHHH!!!! WHAT IS THAT!?" he tried screaming over the howling. But there was no way anyone could hear him.

He felt as if his ear drums were going to burst. And then he felt blood seeping out of his ears down over his hands.

"GAHHHHHHHH!!!!"

And then it stopped.

Kalan could only hear a buzzing sound for a moment, but then his hearing resumed it's normal state. He looked around. Several citizens and even the Knights had dropped to their knees as well, holding their ears. Now everyone looked around confused.

And then the booming crash shocked everyone. Somewhere else in the city a loud crashing sound of stones and wood could be heard.

"What the hell is happening?" Kalan said to no one in particular.

"THE WALLS! THEY'VE BEEN BREACHED!" the Knights shouted and took off running down the street, leaving Kalan, Turk'en, and Aarowic alone.

The sound was so painful...

Aarowic pinned his ears down, clasped them with his hands and tried to muffle it with his cloak. The pain continued, however.

Finally, finally, the sound stopped. He opened one eye with his hands over his ears in case. The guards were retreating and Aarowic and the two darklings were left to their own safety.

When his ears calmed, Aarowic turned to the others.

"Maybe we should board a ship? If the walls are breached, the undead will be coming in."

Turk'en turned and started to fire his arrows at the knights. All of his shots were non lethal in nature. He didn't want to kill these men as they would be needed to protect the town, but neither was he interested in getting arrested. His sentence would surely be death. And not of his own doing. All knights were ordered to kill him and Erron on sight.


That stupid race.

Erron escaped from Rhiddik long before Turk'en could. Where was he now?...


The knights started coming after them again.


"Follow me. And hold your tongue. Turk'en said the the boy with the whip."

He took off down an alley with the other two following close behind. rounding a enacting his cloud of darkness behind them. Quicker than the other two could react to, Turk'en pulled out his sword and popped open a man hole cover as they passed. The hunted darkling kept them running right past the manhole and up a wagon into a second story window. Turk'en helped to pull the other too up, having more trouble with the Aniver but managed to get them up before the knights saw them. Turk'en could hear the knights talk around the manhole and some went in.

Quietly Turk'en helped the two up and looked around. they were in a granary warehouse and it seemed empty minus the hundreds of bags of sand.

"Why did I just save your life?"