Prelude - William

[Ismaels-Legacy]

"Willeh! Why are ye not upon your feet!? The grounds denna clean themselves!" You feel a swift kick connect with your ribs where you lay, snoozing against a headstone. Granted, it doesn't really hurt all that much, but it's the principle of the thing, really.

Standing above you is a stick-thin old man with an unruly mass of gray hair and a gnarled beard that reaches close to his simple rope belt. His smock is a dingy yellow gray, covered in mud, grim, and gods-knows what else those stains are from.....

Looking around with a yawn you survey the scene. Headstones cover much of the acreage in which you sit, a low cobblestone wall providing a simple boundary between the world of the living and the dead.

"Willeh! We need to be gettin' these graves empty and placed upon da funeral pyres before dah curse falls upon this town! Willeh! Are you listening to me? I canna dig all these on me own! Willeh!"

[TigerStripedDog]

Williams knuckles go white as he wraps his hands around his massive club. The mighty weapon of war and zombie killing, SUPLEX!, seems almost belittled to be used to prop this man up. Or at least it would for any man other than Big Bill Dornsmith.

This same man, grumbling with his northern accent sways slightly as he stands. Bill shakes his head, despite the late hour and the fact that the sun has been set for a good while, Bill shades his eyes against the glare.

"Is NO good. Am much hung over from drinking of whiskey," the giant of a man grumbles. "Maybe I's want for the zombies to come, then I make MUCH smash. Best hangover cure is for to make much zombie smash. HAHAHA. Is joke of old." More booming laughs escape from impossibly large lungs.

The crickety old man stares up at Big Bill, seeing his scowl and pondering that dark sense of humor he wonders if the swift kick to the ribs was such a good idea afterall. I probably should have just baked him pancakes, he thinks belatedly to himself.

Big Bill, never having been that perceptive is oblivious to the old man's ponderings. What he is becoming more and more aware of is the late hour, and the fact that there really isn't much need to shade his eyes after all. And while zombie smash does indeed cure one's hang over, he did agree to help the man for a few copper. And once hired on, Big Bill Dornsmith never breaks his word... well, unless he gets drunk and forgets. Of course, it helps that very few towns contain the amount of whiskey needed for such a feat, and because of it Big Bill was known for keeping promises.

"NO worry little mayn. BILL help you much, YES? We make great fire, for to roast hogs to make meal. We eat much. You pay, I make good on promise. You see little man. And no need for to fear zombies. If they come, I make smash. Now, you go and find much pork for eating. I make much digging up of bodies tonight."

Without hesitation, Bill grabs a nearby shovel and begins to dig. This isn't his first time digging graves. As he does he begins a chant from the motherland: "Zombies come, I make smash! Kill Kill Kill, Murder, Maim, Destroy! Zombies fall down, now I bash! Kill Kill Kill, Murder Maim Destroy! Zombies beat at door, soon we hear crash! Kill Kill Kill...."

[Ismaels-Legacy]

The grizzled old man stands there, jaw agape. "I shoulda brought a beeger spade!" he mumbles to himself as William tossed mound after mound of dirt over he shoulder. Walking away he continues his muttering; "Pork? Where does he think I'm gonna find a peeg? And why waste good combustibles on roasting peeg when I needs it for the bodies..." He wanders into the gloom of dusk, carrying a small candle for light. As he rounds the corner to the entrance to the groundskeeper's shack, his light goes out and an shrill, girly screech reaches William's ears.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"

[TigerStripedDog]

In the midst of his song, with almost perfect timing, Bill hears a shreak coming from around the shack. Smiling to himself, he stops his singing and shouts towards the shack:

"Very GOOD little mayn! But is no 'eeeek', is more of 'aaaaaaH!' in song. Still, is good. You know song of motherland? How you can know this thing?"

As bill turns for a second, some chill creeps up his spine. He can't quite place it, but he thinks something might be wrong. After all, it is pretty unlikely that the groundskeeper could have known the song. Bill drops the spade and reaches for SUPLEX!, and wonders to himself if maybe he is going to cure his hangover with the preferred method...

[Ismaels-Legacy]

Rounding the corner, you see the door to the shack hanging slightly open. There is no light inside, the candle the old man was carrying clearly has gone out. There's little sound from inside save a slight scratching noise in the far corner. It's very dark in it's windowless interior and you hesitate to enter the shack unawares.

[TigerStripedDog]

"OLD MAN!" Bill cries into the building. "Is best if answer Bill. If no answer, Bill make much smash on your sack"

Bill pauses with uncertainty. Bill was tough, tough as nails, but only a damned fool walks into a dark building that may or may not be full of undead. Curse that old man! Damnit all I should have woken up early. If he has gone and got eaten by zombies I might have to drink again tonight to dull the guilt for drinking too much last night and sleeping too late today. I have to go in there... he paid me. CURSE that old man! Bill thought to himself, placing one foot in front of the other...

---
OOC: Bill does his thinking in his native Motherland tongue, and as such, his thoughts don't contain the rough accents and poor grammar of his speech.

[Ismaels-Legacy]

From the darkness to the inside right of the door you hear a hissing whisper, "Shh...quiet! He may hear you!" After the span of a few short breaths he says "Step aside! I'm gonna try to escape!" You can hear his labored breathing coming in short, quick gasps as he prepares himself for the dash.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" He yells as he bolts through the door, hiding behind his burly servant, now wielding a massive spiked club. "Don'na just stand there! Squish it!" He stammers, pointing through the door.

[TigerStripedDog]

"Am glad you are safe little Mayn," Bill declares, moving into the darkness. "But know this, Bill no make zombie squish, BILL MAKE ZOMBIE SMASH!"

Bill charges blindly into the darkness, headless of destruction he may cause around him in a maddened attempt to smash said zombie. He sweeps his club in wide arcs before him.

[Ismaels-Legacy]

The narrow spaces of the shack does not make 'clubbing' convenient. You feel it connect with several objects, though most have a wooden 'thunk' or a metallic 'ting' as you strike them. After a few moments, and after taking a minute to see if anything is moving, you step back outside.

"Did ye get it? Did ye get de rat?" the old man asks, visibly shaking.

[TigerStripedDog]

"Is rat?" Bill asks, incredulously. "I fear for stupid little mayn's life over rat?" Bill glares down at the old man. "In motherland, even small child not afraid of rat. You scare Bill over little thing. No get rat, time for dig."

Frustrated, Bill sets his club down, reaching back again for a spade.

[Ismaels-Legacy]

In the gloom of twilight you see a pair of hulking forms outlined at the woods-line. They stand far taller than yourself, and are massively broad of shoulder. Their limbs are disproportionate, legs shorter than expected, and arms far longer. They do not move, though one of them has its arm lifted in front of its chest as if it were cradling something. A stray piece of moonlight passes over them and you see partially decayed flesh and a glint of blue from the bundle the one is carrying.

[TigerStripedDog]

Bill holds his breath for a second, half crouched reaching for the spade. He freezes in midmotion. Whispering he says.

"Run little mayn. Bill has much work to be done".

Bill abandons his reach for the spade, and instead takes hold of SUPLEX once again. From a crouch he rushes forward at the two shapes giving the battle cry of his homeland:

"SUUUUUUUPPPLEXXX!!!!!"

-- Attack the undead --

[Ismaels-Legacy]

As you begin to lope across the graveyard, weaving through headstones, you see the gemstone cradled in the Undead Ogre's arm begin to glow and emit a mist like manifestation. Around you, the ground begins to shake. Grasping your club in one hand, you reach out to headstones to steady your pace as you doggedly continue toward the treeline.

Cracks and rents have begun to form in the ground around you, the same glowing mist rising from the openings. You've only made it about halfway through when decayed, emaciated forms begin to force their way through the loosened earth. Glancing over to the partially dug grave you were working on before, you see the simple casket lid shatter with the force of an undead blow from within.

Suddenly it dawns on you that there is a large pile of unburned corpses on the opposite side of the graveyard. Corpses you were digging up for the specific purpose of burning them to prevent this from happening! A massive pile of corpses right behind the shack where you left the old man!

[TigerStripedDog]

Glancing at the large form, Bill curses inwardly So much glory killin' one that big, BLAST you again old man.

Trying to keep a low profile, Bill turns tail and runs, a nagging part of his subconscious screaming at him that he is only running now because he is to scared to face the big one.

Bill runs as fast as he can back to the old man, hoping he isn't too late, as he draws closer, he yells:

"Old MAYN! Run like wind, much zombie come!"

[Ismaels-Legacy]

The scene that awaits you is one that makes even YOUR stout stomach lurch. The pile of corpses that the two of you had intended to burn has turned into a writhing mass of limbs, each grasping and twisting in an attempt to gain leverage and freedom. Much to your horror you see parts of the old man being passed around the mass; a leg being pulled at in a gruesome tug of war, a forearm being held within lipless jaws, and his bloody entrails being flung about.