Tired Of Death

"Who are you? What have you done to my sport?" the ruler pouted.

"You know who I am," the dead man replied.

Harold thought for a second, and then his eyes widened. Hastily he lowered himself, kneeling on one knee. "Overlord! Forgive your servant. You took me by surprise. How may I be of service?"

The torture victim nodded. "Better. I have a task of utmost importance for you."

"I will aid you in any way, as you know well," said Harold.

"Of course, for if you don't it could just as easily be you hanging here. I made you and I can break you."

"I understand my Lord." Harold attempted not to let his hatred show. "What do you wish of me?"

"You need to alert your guards. An enemy of mine is near Real. He may even enter the city. If he does you are to capture him and inform me at once. Do you understand me?"

"Of course my lord. Who is this enemy of yours?"

"His name is Dreth. He's tall and thin, carrying a black blade of great power. He may be travelling with several zombies."

"He shall be apprehended immediately," said Harold.

"Do not underestimate him. Dreth is extremely dangerous, and nearly impossible to kill. He may try to disguise himself."

"I shall keep watch for any unusual newcomers. Is that all my Lord?"

"No. Another of my servants, an Anti-Paladin by the name of… The Violator is also in the area. Give him any assistance he requires, should he enter the city."

Harold's eyes narrowed. "Veronica the Violator?" he asked.

"That's him. Are my wishes clear?"

"They are my lord."

"Very well. Do not fail me!" With that final rejoinder the dark glow faded from the prisoners' eyes, and the head slumped forward.

Harold examined the man and cursed. Dead! He took a deep breath and looked down, pondering his bloodied blade for a moment, brow wrinkled in thought. Why would the Overlord be so interested in this Dreth person? There was something going on here. Maybe something that Harold could use to his own advantage.

Discarding his dagger he shouted for his servants. There was work to be done.

~ * ~

"Look, I can't help it if your chap was blown up can I?" said Dreth, impatiently. "You should know better than to jump out of side streets waving your arms at people."

"Roger was only having a bit of fun," grumbled the skeleton, who appeared to be the spokesman for the villagers.

"You're all dead, or undead anyway," Dreth pointed out, "it's bound to make people skittish, leaping out from the shadows and screaming like that."

"Yes, well, it's our home, we can jump about all night if we want to. Who said you could come barging in all uninvited anyway?" The skeleton fiddled with his rusting helmet.

Dreth sheathed Darkblood and looked around at the motley group of undead that had appeared around them. Most were simply skeletons, but there were zombies in the crowd too, and he thought he saw a ghostly figure or two floating about on the fringes.

"Who are you people?" he asked.

"I told you," replied the skeleton. "We live here. We're the residents of this place, or used to be at least, before the forces of Evil stormed the tower and killed us all, then raised us again."

"So this is Light Haven?" asked Tybalt.

"Used to be, not much light here any more" The skeleton looked at Dreth accusingly. "Why are you walking around with the living?" he asked.

"It's a long story," sighed Dreth. "Who's in charge here?"

"That'll be Melvin," the skeleton answered. "He's in the old temple." He gestured up the road.

"I'll go and have a word with him then." Dreth, pushed his way through the crowd of walking corpses and started walking in the direction indicated. The others followed a short distance behind, looking around warily.

"Hey, where did your curse go?" asked Percy as they walked up the street.

Dreth shrugged. "It would be too much to hope that it was back to where it came from. It disappears from time to time."

"Did someone mention my name?" There was a pop and the familiar small figure appeared next to Dreth.

"Speak of the devil," said Percy. "Hey! Hello there good looking!" He leered horrifically at a figure that was walking past in the other direction.

The she-zombie he was talking too paused, peering at him with dead eyes, and then returned the smile, matching Percy rotten tooth for rotten tooth. Locks of wispy white hair dribbled over scab encrusted shoulders.

"I think I'll just go and chat with the locals." Percy lurched over to the female undead.

Dreth shook his head and carried on walking.

"You should find a girlfriend you know," the devil said conversationally. "It might cheer you up a bit. You're too gloomy."

"I wonder why that is," muttered Dreth as he spotted a larger than average building looming up ahead of him. "That must be the temple."

As they approached, the large double doors set into the front of the building flew open, and several skeletons dressed in armour and wielding long swords burst forth. At the same time a dozen more undead guards appeared from the side of the road and surrounded Frumble, who squeaked in fear.

Tybalt drew his swords and stood in front of Emerald, whilst Cuthbert put a hand on Sprat's head.

"What's going on here?" demanded Dreth. "Is this how you treat guests in this place?"

The skeleton warriors didn't reply, but waited as another two figures approached. Dreth eyed them warily. One shuffled along m.o.a.ning a low m.o.a.n, arms outstretched in the traditional pose for a mummy. Its bandages were old and stained with blood, but otherwise it looked in good condition for one of its kind. Walking alongside it was another skeleton, this one holding a clipboard instead of a weapon, and dressed in ragged silk robes. The pair stopped a little way away from Dreth and the mummy spoke:

"Muurrrr!" it said. "Muuuurrr."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," said Dreth. "Are you Melvin?"

"Indeed he is! And our glorious leader demands retribution!" the clipboard skeleton translated. "Your party has killed a citizen of Haven, and so his life is forfeit in return."

"Muuuur, muuuurrrr, mmmuuuuur," said Melvin the Mummy.

"He must be tortured…" said the interpreter.

"Mmmmmuuuuu muuuur muuurrr muuurr…"

"… and his skin slowly peeled back from his still living body…"

"Mmuuur!"

"…before his dying corpse is fed to the beetles, and his life source slowly absorbed into the pit of tormented souls, forever to languish there in eternal agony."

"Muuur muurrr murr, muurrrr murrr, murrr murrrrr muurrrrrr!"

"Oh, and welcome to Haven, we hope you enjoy your stay. Please don't forget to purchase some souvenirs from our gift shop."

"Ah, no. Sorry. I need the Halfling alive," said Dreth. "You can't have him."

"Mmmuuur."

"Then one of the others must replace him, for the balance to be maintained."

"Are you sure you're translating this correctly?" asked Tybalt, frowning.

"Muur!!"

"Choose!"

Dreth tapped his sword and started to step forward, but the skeletons around Frumble gestured threateningly with their weapons. He paused; there was no way he could attack without the wizard being skewered.

"Ooh! It's a stand off!" said the devil, rubbing its hands together gleefully. "What are you going to do now?"

Dreth frowned. It was a good question…

Chapter 2 - Real City.

"There it is, there's Real," said Riot. She pointed at the large walled city looming up ahead of them, towers spiralling up into the sky.

"Excellent," said Veronica, pushing over a farmer who didn't get out of his way fast enough and treading on his head as he stepped over him. "Maybe we can get away from all these bumpkins. Make way there!" He backhanded a frail old woman who was tottering along too slowly for his liking, sending her the way of the farmer. "What's the hold up here?" he asked the thief.

"It must be market day or something," she replied, edging her way past a snuffling pig.

The road they were on was full indeed. An outlying suburb of Real, it attempted to emulate the big city style without any of the actual style. Various buildings on both side of the road tried to rise impressively up into the air, but didn't quite manage to pull it off. The townsfolk meanwhile, came in a variety of shapes and sizes and meandered around apparently at random, towing or herding along various farm animals. The two travellers wound, or in Veronica's case smashed, their way through the throng, their horses trotting behind.

Eventually the Anti-Paladin lost his temper. Mounting his Nightmare steed, he drew his sword and shouted. "Peasants! I am The Violator, scourge of Good. Evil doer extraordinaire! Terror of the realm. And if you don't get your fat asses out of my way in the next ten seconds, I vow I will slaughter every man, woman and child in this town!" He glared around at the wide eyes gaping at him. "Well?" He waved his weapon.

There was a moment of silence, followed by many moments of screaming terror, as the frightened population clawed and scrambled over each other to get out of his way. Within a minute the road stood clear, with the exception of one bewildered sheep, which hadn't been paying attention.