Sir Walnut

“Now, now. It that anyway ta treat the man who jus' saved yer life?", Rupert questioned, throwing an accusing look towards Sieglinde. En garde. "Not only did I not ask for yer help, I didn't need it." Sieglinde countered, but Rupert masterfully rebounded. "Didn' need m' help? Tha' brigand would'a had his sword hilt deep in yer side. Didn' need m' help indeed.", Rupert's verbal riposte came quickly, completely avoiding Sieglinde's defenses. "Aye. I didn't see that man coming, but I would have been fine. That man could not have defeated me." Sieglinde move came slowly, her previous wound slowing her counter. "Fine, go on and ignore the fact tha' I saved ye. I wanted no reward. Simply a companion on the road and a stiff drink in Keeper's Rest.", Rupert disarmed Sieglinde, the guilt easily overpowering her. "Aye, I guess ye are right. It makes no sense to turn my back on good fortune. Or on a traveling companion. Come along then.", Sieglinde surrendered to Rupert's charm, "'Tis no more than a few more hours." Several hours and a few miles later they arrived at Keeper's Rest, a small town still on the fringe. While small, Keeper's Rest did well; it was on a trade road, it was close to the Elven nation so saw interesting trade occasionally. The elves didn't trade often enough for the Rest to grow any larger or of any more importance. It had the features of many towns outside of the imperial eye. The local sheriff and militia was near the center of town. The tavern was a busy in the evening. It had it's share of farms and stores, the blacksmith making more horseshoes than weapons. The streets were not busy, most people having settled in for the night or enjoying a few drinks. Rupert seemed anxious to get inside for a couple of drinks and then turn in, and Sieglinde had no reason to argue. It had been a long day of traveling and she was definitely feeling tired, especially after the fracas on the road. They got a table and shared a few drinks. Rupert tried to get a hint at her past, but Sieglinde didn't yet trust the young man. "Well, Rupert, 'tis time for me to turn in. Your company on the road was enjoyable. Goodnight." "Aye, I think I'll stay up for a while longer", Rupert raised his glass but was no longer paying her any mind, " Oh, barmaid , could I get another over here. Much obliged." Sieglinde awoke early as always, putting on her armor and tidying up before she left. It was time to check for more work. Although she had now amassed a small fortune from the bounties she had collected idol hands were the devil's playground, so she made sure to keep busy. She walked outside, only to see Rupert, a bottle in his hand, sitting next the tavern, drooling in a drunk stupor. How sad. "Heyyy, Sshieglinde! Howshh it going. Ye shure are up late." "Ye truly are a sad little man. 'Tis dawn ye fool. Get off yer duff and head inside." Rupert didn't remember being lifted off the ground, or carried inside. He definitely didn't remember being bathed. He definitely wasn't ready for being awaken with a quick blow to the head. "Ye drunkard. Stay away from the drink if ye are going to let it get to yer head.", she shook her head. "Could ye have been more gentle, m' skulls not made of metal.", Rupert groaned , nursing a fresh welt on his forehead. "No. Now get dressed, ye owe me some copper for the bath and the bed, and I intend to make ye work it off.", Sieglinde trudged out of the room. Rupert caught a glimpse of her on the way. It was the only time he had seen her with the armor off. Her arms and legs were covered in scars of varying size. She had a feminine figure that was offset by the definition of her arms and legs. One didn't normal see women in armor, or with such a strong build. She was going to be hard to win over, but he felt sure of his skills.

Back on the road… The armored woman let out a deep sigh, relaxing her grip on the brigand’s arm. Several men lay sprawled about, groaning as they strained to get back on their feet. A carriage quickly shot by, the trades man inside shouting his thanks. “Fools! Ye truly thought to rob trades mean? On an imperial road.”, the young woman motioned to the rogues with a sweep of her arm as she berated them, “I am simply astonished the local guardsmen have not yet dealt with you. Suddenly, a burst of movement form beyond her sight. The lowly worm attacked from behind, bringing a sword to bare, planning to sink the blade into the open arm joint. As suddenly as the attack had begun it was halted, the man stopping in his tracks as a bolt settled into place in the rogues’ back. He collapsed several steps from the startled woman. “Glad I had waited to reveal m’ self. I didn’t mean to startle ye, but he surely would’a gotten ye.”, a young, thin man stepped out of the shrubs beside the road, his charming voice matching perfectly with his face. The man attached a hand crossbow to his belt and brushing of the dirt off his light brown clothing for seemingly no apparent reason. He was smiling as he stepped towards the fallen highwayman, a scar showing on the side of his face, just before his left ear. “M’ names Rupert, Rupert Flax.”, he greeted as he stepped over the dead body, plucking out his crossbow bolt, “Now, that I’ve been introduced what might ye name be good sir?” The woman stood still, looking around and pointing at herself, “Might ye be talking to me?” “Don’t be daft, a’course I’m talking to ye. Ain anybody else but ye and I.” “Aye, aye, that being the case, I am named Sieglinde, but I am no sir.”, She responded by offering a hand in greeting. Rupert stood looking slightly wary, then accepted the armored hand. To his surprise she had a firm, strong grip, only slightly firmer then he remembered his father’s being. “Well, glad I could give ye a hand. These men surely must’a learned quite a lesson at yer hands.” He meant this quite literally. Part of the reason he waited to make his presence known was so that he might lend a surprise hand. The other was that Sieglinde had no weapon, she dealt with these brigands with just her hands. She had thrown them, swatting them away with one hand. She had used no finesse or planning just raw power to deal with the snakes that had attacked a lone merchant. “Well, I must be off. Thank ye for yer assistance Rupert. ‘Twas much appreciated. Keeper’s Rest awaits me with a good night slumber and possible work.”, She gave a salute, right hand brought up to her chest and then turned from and headed towards the town, towards Keeper’s Rest.

The woman headed back at into the crowded masses with that same purposeful stride she had when she entered the small town. The town was on the fringes of society. She preferred places that were out of the way, keeping herself out of the Imperial eye. She approached the local tavern, The Hanging Prince, which was obviously the center of town activities. The patrons of the tavern were enjoying much drink, a raucous cheer spreading through out. The barkeep was a stout man, balding with a great black handle bar mustache. He was quietly cleaning his tankards, pausing only if a patron asked for another drink. She approached the bar, laying down a single gold piece and removed her helmet. The bar keep gave her an strange look, but seemed to shrug it off the next moment. He had no doubt seen stranger people then herself. “A meal and drink , along with a room for the night.”, she said as she slid the gold piece across the rough counter. The bar tender raised an eyebrow at this, but set the drink on the bar, “Could ye use anything else?” “No, I shall be fine when my meal arrives.” A matter of moments after this a steaming hot meal was set on the bar, the barkeep immediately returning to his busy work. The meal was of surprising quality, having arrived so swiftly. The drink was refreshing and the meal was filling. As soon as the empty tankard touched the bar, the bar tender was standing before her. “More ale?” She nodded, a filled tankard placed before her. The night progressed as such, the barkeep simply ready for any request. Soon she headed to her room, slept peacefully, and awoke the next day, rising early. The barkeep not even awake as she left. She headed out, through the quiet streets, past the early morning workers. She proceeded out of the town, heading straight into the sunrise, putting the Hanging Prince behind her. The road was well kept but not overused. It was not even a minor trade road, seeing none of the Imperial traffic other slightly more common routes received. It saw less brigands and highwaymen as well. They never caused a major problem, more less light entertainment on the long road. She walked at a steady pace for most of the day. Around midday the farm road joined with a small trade route. Ever now and again another traveler would pass. She looked up the sky. She should arrive in the next city by nightfall. Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace… A large, handsome man strode through the halls, his ring covered hands clenched tightly, his noble station shown by his many jewels and fine clothing. As he approached a large door at the end of the current hall the two guards stationed there turned. “Lord Sulfameth.”, the greeted while placing their right fist upon their chest and tapping the haft of their battle hammers on the ground in a military salute. The lord paid them no mind as he pushed through the door. As the door closed, the guard on the left looked around. Turning to his slightly shorter comrade he spoke. “That Sulfameth has no regard for any beneath him. I’m glad I don’t serve in the Wyvern Corp, I would hate to be subject to his machinations.” “Aye, but at least he doesn’t hide what he does like some other members of the royal council.”, His fellow guard commented back. “And who would those be?”, a voice hissed from a short distance away, surprising the guards. “High Inquisitor Sorn!”, The guards years of training showed in their rapid recovery of composure as they saluted. The High Inquisitor, returned the salute with a sneer. His long black robes fluttered as he walked up to the guards. He seemed to tower over them to as he closed the distance between them. “Please make sure to focus on the duty at hand. I would hate for some common riffraff to simply waltz into the council chamber.” he jeered the two guards, laughing as he proceeded past. The taller guard waited a moment, “That man gives me goose bumps. I didn’t think a man could actually hiss when they talked. At least Sulfameth can’t suddenly appear out of nowhere.” The short guard nodded in response, gesturing towards the chamber with his long hammer, “Even Sulfameth finds him unsettling. And the lord fears only the emperor.” The two guards nodded then returned their focus back to the job at hand. The last thing they wanted was Sorn deciding they needed to be interrogated.

This is the beginning of the adventures of my new characters so give it some time to progress The setting sun illuminated a hill, the lone tree swaying in the autumn breeze. The young woman solemnly stood looking into the sunset. The sole grave marker before the maiden sat atop the hill. It was fairly new, not yet having been worn down with age and the fury of the elements. She slowly knelt before it, thanking the one who had been laid to rest. The marker simply read This unsung hero saved the land to be forgotten by those set free, you will be remembered. A young man came up behind the woman, who was nearing tears. “Come now, the ceremony shall begin soon.” But, that part of this tale still lurks very far away. The true beginning is not nearly as gloomy. . . A heavily armored figured walked into the small town. The citizenry stepped around the gleaming armor as it strode purposefully through main street. The vendors called out, hawking their wares, but the helmed head didn’t seem to acknowledge them. A street urchin had been following the shining form for several blocks now, his eyes focused on a large sack held in the person’s left hand. He reached out, knife ready to slit the items held within free. As soon as his hand was nearly upon the bag the metal form stopped, turning with amazing alacrity. “Would ye dare steal from me?”, The voice echoed from inside the helm. The thief seemed stunned, until his mind caught up with his error in judgment. He ran down the nearest alley. The hulking form shrugged and continued on to it’s objective. The armor pushed its way to the sheriff’s office. The older man inside sat straight up with surprise when a large shadow eclipsed the light at his desk. “May I help ye?”, The sheriff said with a slight drawl. “I am here to collected on this bounty.”, the metal arm rose, dropping the sack on the desk. A severed head rolled out, a look of surprise across the grim trophy. He old sheriff rifled through papers until he came across one with a portrait of the head on the desk, a slightly less surprised version at least. “Well, seems like this brigand won’t be terrorizing any travelers anymore, aye?”, The wrinkled man’s bony hand rummaging in his desk draw, pulling out a bag that rang with the sounded of treasure. “That’s 15 gold pieces for ye then.” The armor reached up and placed it’s hands upon the helmet. As the helmet came off, long brown hair unfurled, encircling the feminine face. “Aye, all in a good days work. Ye enjoy the fine day!” The elder sat completely stunned, the face before him attractive even through the grime of adventure. “Aye, ye to lass…”, The man, stumbling for words as he handed over the gold. She set the helmet back into place, and walked back into the busy street. The sheriff rubbed his head as he thought for a moment. Why would a looker like that be out risking her life for a handful of gold coins?

Walnut rubbed his singed eyebrows, a gout of flame nearly burning him. This was not gong well. Ordolar was doing his best, as he hacked with all his strength, at least slowing down the foul slime. Think, Walnut thought to himself, I know there has to be something I could do. Walnut grinned as an idea awoke in his head. He reached into his purple bag, digging down to the bottom. Adventuring on the disc one learns to never depend on magic items. Magic is everywhere, not always doing anything useful. But, this wasn't magic. Walnut pulled a scaly ball out of his bag, about the size of an egg. He winded back and threw it at the slime. "Quick everyone, goose! I mean duck!", Walnut shouted as he dropped to the ground. You could here the the scales sizzle as the slime devoured them. Suddenly an explosion rocked the clearing, sending even Ordolar reeling. "What do you know? The swamp dragon digestive juices in side that dragon scale ball really did come in handy." Discworld swamp dragons tend to explode, a lot.

Walnut was getting worried. Sir Ordolar had taken his chances with the undead goop. When he couldn't defeat it he lumbered off to slaughter the would-be attackers with his blade. Every body he dropped was slowly taken into the quickly growing mass. As it's size increased the bones seemed to reposition themselves inside the vile jelly. The bits that had been cut off were rejoining with the original mass. As it rolled into the trees smoke hissed off, the acidity of the ooze melting the organic life it touched. Suddenly, the many bones jutted out in a long pseudopod, reaching for the closest living thing...Walnut. "Not good, not good", Walnut mumbled to himself, "It really shouldn't be able to do that right? That's not supposed to happen, am I right?" All Walnut could do was keep himself out of harms way and hope someone would be able to deal with the now multi-limbed gelatin.

Walnut fought the foul undead fervently, felling many. Then suddenly a blinding light filled the woods. The orc had drawn his blade, culling the herd of ghouls with sure, powerful swings of the sword. The ghouls fell in groups of two and three, the brilliant metal cleaving through them like, like something that cleaves very well. Walnut noticed several more strange men now, all similar in appearance destroying the abominations. The ninja had been freed from their cold strong fingers. Walnut deftly dodged and stuck, a charging ghouls eyes losing the hate fueled flames as it dropped to the ground. They were large in number but lacked the true ability to defeat the pennites. Suddenly, Walnut smelled a foul twisted odor, like sewage mixed with hunger. His attention fell upon the fallen ghouls as their masses were absorbed into a dark gelatinous mass. The monstrous ooze took in the fallen bodies, it size increasing with each body it devoured. Walnut beelined for it hacking at with his blades. Every lump he severed squirmed to the fallen corpses taking in their gangrenous flesh. "Oh, my. This is not good for me. Could I get some assistance please!!!", Walnut shouted politely to his cohorts., "Pretty please!!!"

"Oh, um, I... My family is nobility, of course. The Clamhat's have been in the upper echelon of society for many generations. Yes, I'm nobility.", Walnut said while trying to crack a convincing smirk., "On that subject you to must be of some knightly order no doubt." Walnut half listened to Ordolar hearing him explain the interesting circumstances in which he became a knight. He was mostly anxious to venture forth and save the damsel... or the person in trouble. It got his heart racing to know that some one needed help but this was different. This enemy was foul and needed to be dealt with. And Walnut wanted to help. It was the noble thing to do. He really missed his hat though. He felt it helped people accept the sir title. Who else but nobility would where a top hat? A strange smell wafted through the air and caught Walnut's attention. "Are there more members of the keep out here?"

"I see.", Walnut nodded as the others informed him of Dego's situation, "Well, we really mustn't dally then should we, this Degorram is in trouble. I will not stand by while evil threatens my new home and neighbors." A large grin cut across Walnut's face. This was one of the interesting things to happen since he had let the Disc. How exiting. The hair on his neck was still standing up, the smell of the naked vampire still not having completely dissipated. Walnut pulled some gloves out of a pocket inside his jacket and slid them on. He really missed his top hat. He hoped it was okay, but there were other thing that needed seeing to so he couldn't go searching for it. But he really wanted to.

"Oh my...", Walnut let out with a gasp. It was not a situation he had expected, and he took in the words with the utmost care. And he made sure to apologize for possibly ogling. He just couldn't stop staring at her throat, it was wondrous.Then he finished up putting on the purple slacks he was holding. Then he realized one of his worst nightmares.HE. HAD. FORGOTTEN. HIS. TOP HAT!!!!!! This was terrible. The entire ensemble was ruined without the glorious purple top hat. How could he fight undead minions without a top hat? It was so, uncivilized. As Walnut stepped out of the brush with a glum expression on his face he sheathed his blades, He turned to everyone and asked, "Which of you is Key-ku-you?" The ninja turned her gaze to him, so he passed on the message from naked female vampire he had meet in the woods, with a slightly confused look. "What exactly have I gotten myself into here?"

Walnut rushed at the beast as the armored knight held it by the throat, a storm of blades, but could do little but annoy the foul thing. The two presumed pennites searched through the knight's belongings and and suddenly the knight and vampire were both drenched. The now slippery vampire hurled the heavy knight through the air. It was all Walnut could do but keep the creature at bay while the others formulated a plan. Kikuyu made quick work of the branch, and was speedily sharpening it to a point. They only had mere moments before Walnut would lose the vile creature's attentions. "If you could please hurry, milady!", Walnut politely shouted,"We seem to be steadily approaching the extent of my skill!"

-Description- Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat XXIII is a Discworld werewolf. He is of average height and a slight build. His hair is a deep shade of red. His eye is green. He is missing his left eye from a childhood accident. He has a very pale complexion. Overall he has a very attractive appearance. Walnut usually wears clothing that he has made himself. He prefers the colors of royalty, mostly purple. He wears a purple top hat nearly all the time. His clothing is usually made of silk or satin. He likes ruffles. When in wolf form Walnut still wears his eye patch. His fur remains the same color as his hair,and he is slightly larger than a normal wolf. -Abilities- Walnut is a very skilled tailor and school teacher. He is also very knowledgeable in the ways of the noble class. He is ambidextrous, and, while Walnut has been trained in fencing he has no concept of his own skill. He is actual the best swordsmen on the entire disc. Being a werewolf the only thing capable of actually killing him is silver. Any other killing blow will heal over time. He is capable of turning into a wolf at anytime, but direct moonlight will force the change. On the night of the full moon he automatically changes into a wolf at dusk. His senses of hearing and smell are astounding even in human form. When in wolf form he can "see" smells as colors that show the moods people. In wolf form he can crush a human skull in his jaws with no effort, but his strength and agility are quite impressive and beyond the capabilities of mere humans. -History - Walnut's family is from Uberwald, the discworldian country of monsters. In Uberwald werewolves and vampires are the nobility. His family was cast out of Uberwald several generation ago. Most of this family is still alive, living on a farm in a small village. Walnut's only goal in life was to return his family to its rightful place and lands. When Walnut was a young child he and his little brother were playing Gentleman's duel with the silverware. He deflected the blow into his left eye causing it to be lodged behind it. The removing of the spoon permanently lost him his left eye. From that day on he has had a phobia of spoons. He has had many adventures all over Discworld and has come to the keep since then. -Quirks- Walnut is a compulsive spender, usually spending his money on expensive fabrics. He will make sure to always remove his clothing before shape shifting, seeing the destruction of his clothing as "ungentlemanly". He has the habit of staring at necklines. He is a gentleman to a fault, always following a gentleman's code of conduct. Due to the predator in him he can't help but stare at necklines, the are wonderful. This character is based off of Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels. He is a character I created for a GURPS game that never really got anywhere. And starting off he was the best swordsman, completely by accident.

Walnut slammed into the vampire's lithe form with bone shattering force. Well, bone shattering for a regular man. The foul creature barely seemed fazed as he grabbed the wolf by his forepaws and tossed him like a toy. Within seconds Walnut was back on him jaws snapping at the beast's throat. The feral rage that had fallen over Walnut was blinding, his mind almost gone. His body was fighting on generations of instinct. He threw himself at the vampire over and over again but to no avail. He needed to regain control of himself. Luckily, well somewhat at least, the creature threw Walnut straight into a large tree. The pain was a jolt to the cerebellum, raising Walnut's mind back into the forefront. "Ouch. That really hurt.", Walnut lamented. What he actually said was just a garble of growls and barks. He needed some help. And thats what he got. The large knight had been waiting patiently for just the right moment as he brought his own strength to bare upon the unsuspecting creature. Excellent, Walnut thought to himself, I really needed a moment. Walnut then scurried into some cover and rapidly changed back into his human form, limbs disgustingly shifting into position. He stormed back into the fray, blades drawn. But, he forgot one important thing... He wasn't wearing any clothes.

Walnut proceeded to avoid combat when possible, quietly walking along, carrying his sword belt and "If Found Return to Walnut" bag around his red fur-covered wolf neck. Every few minutes he would come across the severed remains of undead soldiers. He was still following the trail of the ancient smell, still just barely hearing the deaths of these walking corpses. His empty left eye socket itched beneath his purple eye patch. "I wonder what is happening to this place. The keep seemed so vibrant when I arrived, nothing like it is now.", Walnut pondered to himself. Suddenly, a familiar scent caused the fur on his neck to stand straight up, as an ominous shadow fell over forest. The smell of the winged creature fueled thoughts of bloody murder in Walnut's usually calm and relaxed mind. Only one creature had ever caused such a feeling. It was hereditary. Where his family comes from, the scent of a vampire was enough to drive many into a killing frenzy. Instinctively Walnut's body shot after the shadowy form. His four limbs sped through the woods, slowing gaining on the speedy foul undead. The daylight had died, slain by the foul sorcery to give this creature the darkness it needed. As he continued after, towards the keep, he caught wind of what could only be the smell of a few pennites. The vampire was headed straight for them. Faster. He had to run faster. He heard the faint sound of fang on steel and saw the knight, in what would be shining armor, push it off. As it flew towards the almost dragon he was on it's tail and he hurled his crimson fur covered body at the foul creature, fangs bared.

All was quiet on the western front. The world had gone from speeding out of control to barely turning in a matter of hours. The dead stood still as God had intended. The city stood silent, no cars moved, no animals called out, newspapers floated in the streets. Only days earlier the world had been chaotic and noisy, always busy. I had always wanted more, more money or friends or things. It didn't matter what I just wanted more. I had never thought much of what I had. My girlfriend was just kind of there. My best friend was a good guy but I wanted a better one. I had a good job as an editor of a fairly large magazine. My loft was well furnished and comfortable. But, I didn't want any of it. Alice was pretty good to me, but she often snapped me out of day dreams of what could have been and what could be. About a week ago I was headed home from work, waiting at a red light, when suddenly a car went careening into the intersection crashing into the wrong side of traffic. The driver sat perfectly still, head resting on the deployed airbag. I hurled myself out of the taxi I was in, ignoring the driver's yells, and ran to the accident. Something compelled me to help, an action that normally wasn't in my character. "Are you all right? Can you move?", I half shouted as I opened the door. With out any warning the driver lunged at me. Hands grasping at the air, mouth snapping at. The man's seat belt saved me that day, I realize now. His eyes were milky and dead, his skin pale, the gash across his forehead not even bleeding. He let out a deep, animalistic moan, as he struggled to escape from his confinement. I was terrified yet completely entranced by this vision of death, I couldn't even hear the screams as those who had followed me turned and ran. This was it, the chance I needed for life to get spiced up. How foolish I was just a few days ago. I ran back to my taxi, now deserted by the terrified driver, slide into the driver seat and sped back to my apartment. Every intersection had a similar scene to mine, but most had gruesome results, as the grotesques devoured the flesh of those who had hoped to aid them. Ambulance lights danced on the stationary vehicles as the drivers themselves began to lurch in undeath, after having attempted to save those already turning. I slammed on my brakes as I got to my building. The walking dead had already begun to hunt for the living. The police had blocked off streets with cars and where firing on those who marched on, unheeding of the demands the cops barked at them. Had these people never paid attention to a zombie movie. The head! Aim for the head! I rushed into my building and ran up the stairs. I hurdled up them two and three at a time as I progressed up to the fifth floor. I approached my door, gasping for breath, and fumbled for my keys. As the locks clicked into place, I heard a dreadful moan from the other side of my door. Alice. Damn. Moans began to echo through the building as if being beckoned to my door. The fists of the dead make wet thumps as they slam into the doors that now barricade them into their once expensive high rise mausoleum. I decided to progress slowly down the stairs, unsure of what attention may have been brought my way. I could still hear moaning from above, but was getting anxious as the moans began to get closer from below. As I rounded the third flight of stairs I saw one. The eyes didn't seem to focus as the head snapped towards me, the face partially ripped off the right side and hanging loosely to the dripping muscle. It's mouth opened and it lunged after me. I evaded to the right, leaning to far and flipping over the railing. My back roared in agony as I collided with the stairs. Get up. Get up. Run. I got up. I ran. I hurled myself down the stairwell, into the lobby. The recently dead lurched around me. Adrenaline pulsed through me, letting me continue my frantic rush for the outside. My taxi sat right outside the building, still running. My next stop was my buddy Ron. I drove, weaving past the many motionless vehicles that clogged the streets, clotting intersections like veins. Cars drove past me as others attempted to escape from the city while I headed towards the very heart. Why had Ron wanted to live so far in? As I drove I made sure to slam the car into any lurchers that made their way into the streets. I learned this was a bad idea when suddenly and without warning the car rolled to a halt, steam pouring out of the engine. Great. Would have to continue on foot for 15 blocks. Can't trust cars that could have a horrible surprise in the back seat. The sun began to disappear as night began to creep over the city. I made my way down the street keeping my distance from anything I couldn't see under. I gave alleyways a wide berth as I passed them. The undead could be heard shambling around. I stayed as quiet as possible. I knew their vision had faded, theirs eyes dying with most of the brain. I was more worried about being heard or smelled. Ten more blocks. I tripped on a severed arm, hitting the pavement hard. The shambling stops. I slowly raise myself up. The shambling begins again as their surprisingly attuned sense of hearing pinpoints my location. I start to sprint. A low guttural moan is heard from behind. Several similar moans are heard, all from surrounding areas. The clang of trash cans behind knocked over and the lids being kicked echo out of alleys on both sides. I run, my legs aching and lungs burning. Five blocks left. I hurdle over toppled hot dog carts. Thank the Lord for high school track team. I spot the building. It's not far now. I pull from deep down, draw on what remains of my reserves. I slow down, drawing for breath I can't find. My mind stops. I can barely hear the moans, but their definitely getting closer. Legs stop, glued in place as the torso keeps moving. I collapse. The world darkens. My eyes opened. MY EYES OPENED. I'm alive. I can think. I looked around. I didn't recognize the place I was in. My head was pounding. Suddenly my brain shot into fourth gear. I heard moans and shambling lurkers beyond my sight. The door was hammered shut, but the frame was starting to bulge inward. It might last another hour at the most. I notice someone sitting across from me. He was sitting calmly, sipping a cup of coffee. When he looked at me he raised the mug, tipped his head and continued to drink. "Howdy. You've been out for a good 8 hours now. Want some coffee?" "Yeah, coffee sounds good. I take it black.", I groaned as I sat up, my back remembering the stairs it had collided with. "Good, that's the only way it gets served here. Just out of curiosity, why did you run deeper into the city?", he asked, the question looming in the air. He was expecting a tale of valiant effort. "I was headed to my friends apartment, to get some help.", I responded as the man handed a piping hot mug of java, "Just out of curiosity, who are you?" "Name's James. And you are-" He was cut off by the groan of the door starting to give. James dropped his cup as he hurried from his seat and out of the room, the sound of it shattering drowned out by the moans and the door frame starting to splinter. He hurried back into the room hold a power drill and wooden boards. James worked quickly, with the look of an experienced carpenter about him, drilling boards into place strengthening the door frame. "This place won't be safe much longer. Their stronger than they look. I was at the gym when the break out started. I watched a guy who benched 250 get pushed to the ground." It made sense. Without the brain sending the needed signals, the muscles could work till they turned to dust, no fear of pain holding them back. "What floor are we on?", this was the kind of information that I needed to know. "Top floor. Halls are packed full of 'em though." "Do you have a saw?", I petitioned quizzically. "Yup, what do you have planned?" With in moments we where at work, sawing our way through the floor and ripping up boards as we progressed. I peeked into the apartment below. Empty. I eased my way into the room. As soon as I was down James quickly followed. We set to work on this floor. I heard the door above us suddenly collapse. As my attention shifted I felt a burst of pain. James had sawed off my left thumb! Damn! Expletive deleted! I rushed around the room looking for something to stop the bleeding. Paper towels, hand towels, string, and three safety pins later I was back to work. Floor after floor, we continued down. Sometimes we had to decapitate a zombie that was positioned directly below us waiting arms outstretched, like a child waiting for its mother to lift it up. Finally out the window the street was sprawled out before us. Less zombies then I had thought it would have. They must have progressed up stairs while I was out. Good. I looked out the peep hole. The area visible was empty. I opened the door. The stifling silence of this floor was made eerier by the many open doors, some of which had been forced inward. James and I stepped out into the hall and still nothing. I lifted the crowbar I had found while searching for a first-aid kit. The only noise came from above as the zombies marched into the holes we had made, hitting floors with wet, sloppy thuds. There was no one left alive in this building but me and James. I knew it instinctively. And I had already learned to trust my gut. We headed out into the streets, walking patiently, conserving the energy we had. Three blocks away we raided a mini-mart, grabbing some supplies. We marched on like this till noon, when we came across the first pack I had seen since the night before. James moved first, bolting down the nearest side street. Before I could even think, I was following him. He quickly darted around the next corner. I sped up. As I continued down the corner a had grabbed my shoulder and pulled me against the wall. James had pulled me next to a dumpster and signaled for quiet. We sat still. The slight groaning of the decaying limbs as they walked began to pass. Several minutes passed. We continued. Every mini-mart we passed we raided for non-perishable goods. Soon we had canned food and bags of jerky and chips galore. We marched on. Suddenly a thought grasped me and I turned to James, "Where are we headed?" "Judging by the street, looks like we are going to the docks." The docks. Good. We could take a ship, and hopefully make it towards a safe place, across the sea somewhere. I sped up. No, traveling was out of the question. There was no guarantee that this plague was not so wide spread as to have encompassed most of the world. The docks still worked though. We hurried along, ignoring the sounds of the lurking undead. Night was coming soon, and I didn't want to be caught outside when they had the advantage. "James, how far are the docks?", I dared a whisper to my companion. "Only a few more blocks. They should be visible soon." I didn't know the area well, so I let James lead on. He had a better sense of direction. I took charge when we encountered any trouble. While he was most definitely better than me physically, I was a quick study. I had already developed a strategy for each encounter by they time he decided to act. I used cans as a distraction braking up groups then dealing with the stragglers with swift sure blows to the head. The skulls had decayed faster than should have been normal. Maybe a side effect of the plague? It didn't matter, as long as they went down easy. We made camp in a dumpster. The lids would be nearly be impossible for a zombie to manage and the trash actually made a comfortable bed for our aching backs. I woke first. I listened patiently for any signs of the undead. It was perfectly silent. Of course. The trash's awful pungent odor had covered ours. A surprising bonus that I hadn't considered. As we left we kept to the alleyways, deciding that any live traffic might have pulled them out to the streets. We were very wrong. As we rounded a corner we spotted a group of rapidly decayed zombies tearing apart the disemboweled corpse of what appeared to be a young woman. She had been dead for sometime apparently, as her head and upper torso pulled at the lower half of her body, feasting on her own unchanged intestines. I wretched over as my stomach tried to force up all the nothing I had eaten recently. My dry heaving pulled the attention of some towards us. "Run!!!", James yelled as he grabbed my arm and ran. We ran. Our feet carried us like the wind. The poetic imagery was lost on me at the time as sheer terror gripped and twisted my insides. We ran. The animal moans echoed out from nearby streets. We were going to die. We couldn't out run all of them, and eventually we would run into them. Those thoughts were the only things running through my mind. And then, appearing suddenly, a burst of sunlight in my never ending night, I saw ships. Boats, yachts, cruise liners, and skiffs of all sizes loomed in my view. We ran. I rushed towards a large ship covered in containers. So far the movies hadn't failed me yet. If I could rely on them it would have little space beneath deck and be extremely hard for the zombies to enter. We were home free. We rushed up the ramp leading on board the ship. Undead were following us as we turned. Practically reading each others minds we reached for the ramp. We pushed. We strained every fiber of muscle we could use. We dropped them into the bay. We had made it. The remains of the afternoon were spent searching the ship, from top to bottom, and didn't find a single rotting body. In the captain's room I found a bottle of whiskey. I didn't drink much but it was a special occasion. I headed back up to the deck and the sunset, handing my new found friend and sidekick a glass. We worked really well together. We seemed to think on the same wave length. I took another shot of whiskey and smirked at the sunset. Horseshoes and hand grenades. Potatoes and gravy. Black and white. That's about how we worked, despite everything, worked. We liked it that way too. I still might pay him back for my thumb.

As the red furred wolf that was Walnut ran quietly through the forest the smell of decaying cloth and rotting flesh mingled into his powerful nose. The shambling echoed like the steps giants as he closed in on the undead menace that now stalked the forest. He made the hunters into prey as he fell upon them, a shadowy wraith, quieting the thoughtless grotesquery. More than a dozen fell to his powerful jaws as he passed through the disorganized ranks of the dead. Walnut could tell that something about himself was different. Every scent was sharper, even the slightest noise reverberated in the air. He felt no fatigue as he teared into the random cadavers that made up the main force of his enemy. He could do this for days without stopping. He hadn't never experience the power that coursed through him now. It was euphoric. He quietly hunted his prey as never before, stopping as he came upon two corpses, heads destroyed, laying on their backs. He had heard this slight ruckus from the field? His ears had never been this sharp. How much had he grown since he had left his home?

As Walnut stepped into the moonlight cast across the clearing he felt the sudden change over take his body. He willed the change on, forcing it to progress faster and faster. First, he felt his hair thicken and spread along his flesh. Suddenly, the world dimmed as his vision weakened. Then, his perception sharpened and the forest was even more alive as his hearing and sense of smell sharpened beyond what he had expect. The silence of the world deafened him and the scents made him reel momentarily as he adjusted. He felt his body pop and groan as it shifted in to place. He had watched the change in a mirror once, and felt his lunch make it's presence known in his throat. As the world suddenly snapped back into focus the smells danced in his vision. Anger had filled this field only hours ago. The thoughtless minds of the undead left a swarming mass of grey nothing as it cocooned around the scent of anger. A member of the keep had been here, unwillingly. Something he had never smelled before brought his mind to a focus. Something alien had been there as well, and stood next to the rage. It was unsettling to say the least. Walnut cocked his head as he heard the familiar sounds of combat, that disappeared almost as suddenly as it echoed through the woods. The alien mind could wait, trouble was already closing in near the eastern road to the keep. Shambling echoed from beyond the forest. War truly had come to the keep.

Hours earlier... The full moon peered out from behind a rain cloud, casting a light over the clearing as Walnut approached. "Oh dear.", Walnut said quietly to himself. Since the moon hung full in the sky he realized he would have to remove his suit. He could never imagine willingly letting it be torn to shreds. That would simply be ungentlemanly. The thought made him shudder. Suddenly a dark hand holding a piece of parchment jutted out of the shadow of the nearest tree. "Thank you very much?", Walnut said as he politely took the small piece form the creepily two dimensional hand. It simply said "War. Prepare." Interesting. Well, Walnut thought to himself, I've already got my rapiers and my bag for my suit, I couldn't need much else. I wonder what Should probably change still. A moment later A stark raving naked, except of course his top hat, sword belt hanging from his mouth, Walnut steps nervously towards the clearing. "I hope no one sees this. It's just weird when others watch."

Sir Walnut smirked to himself as he trotted up to the main entrance of the keep. He actually manage to find the door in just around 30 minutes. The place was already starting to rub off on him. Walnut slowly opened the door and peered out into the cool night rain. The air smelled overwhelmingly of decaying flesh and rot. The pungent odor pushed all other scent to the background, overpowering his sensitive nose. He swooned slowly, nostrils flaring, nearly collapsing in the door. Reigning in his trusty sniffer, Walnut walked calmly into the ran. Looking up he could make out a bizarre cloud full of little specs of light. Deciding the best course would be to ignore it, he set off into the grounds surrounding the keep. Walnut enjoyed the rain. The soft patter of it on the trees and even his own top hat always made him think of home. He'd been once, to the country of his family, and it had rained everyday. Just like those woods it was to quiet. Unlike the the forests of home, the environment didn't change for the expected. No howling wolves or sudden crashes of thunder. This was the silence of impending disaster. Walnut whistled a cheerful tune as he made his way closer to a large clearing.

Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat XXIII slowly turned the knob and pushed open the surprisingly heavy wooden door. It might have been the exhaustion kicking in, or maybe the dehydration or hunger, but Walnut had never been so happy to see a bed. A real bed with sheets, two lumpy and quite comfortable looking pillows, even a beautiful quilt. Over come with happiness all he could do was throw down his luggage, take off his custom tailored purple silk suit, fold it and collapse on to the bed. "Finally! After four months of searching I have finally found my room. I have found MY bed. I am so overjoyed right now I can't stop talking to myself!" While trying to enjoy this wonderful moment he didn't even notice the sound of sobbing and running feet from down the hall. Several hours later... Walnut awoke taking a deep breath. The smell he caught snapped him to full consciousness. It was a strangely unnatural odor, akin to pulsating, writhing, hatred. "Oh, well, that is quite interesting. A new smell in a new place. I really must investigate.", Walnut muttered to himself. Springing from bed, Walnut neatly put on his suit. Placing his swords at his side, he grabbed his top hat and the bag with "If found please return to Walnut Clamhat of the Mighty Pen" stitched into the side. Finally prepared he set out, first to find the entrance and then to investigate!

Dear Journal, Having been lost for several months in the pen keep while searching for my room, I have nearly ran out of supplies. Last night I slept on a stairwell I came across. I awoke on a completely different staircase and fought off a very large spider. After wandering for several hours today I saw a door drifting down the corridor. It smelled unnatural so I stayed clear. Some time later I arrived at the entrance again. I broke down and sat in the fetal position. Eventually my search brought me to a dusty corridor. There I was set upon by vicious dust bunnies. I wish I had been informed of the many danger of the pen keep. Well, I must find water soon. Sincerely, Sir Walnut Reginald Trouble Clamhat XXIII

Forever. Why does everything come done to forever? We’ll be together forever. Best friends forever. Love you forever. How can anything be measured by an unending measurement? Forever is so long. Mortals never seem to grasp this. I’ve lived for a hundreds of years. I’ve seen the rise and fall of powerful nations. I’ve fathered numerous children. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone could imagine. I’ve felt more pain then anyone should ever experience. Forever is to long a time for anything to exist. Even the immortal becomes bored and contrite as the years pile on. This is not a tale of happily ever after. Few truly are. All I really want is to finally find the end. Any ever after will do. I go to the fridge. Look inside, find leftover Chinese, and a single beer. I think. I can’t even find the desire to drown away sorrow. Alcohol doesn’t drown it long enough. Everyday I wake with the same loathing of the sunrise. I’ve tried suicide. I doesn’t work. It just causes more pain and suffering. To really find peace you have to end the suffering. I grab my cigarettes. Empty. Just like my life. I head outside. Down the street. Sirens ring out in the night. More crime. Cold rain hits my face. The sound of it bounces off every building. I reach the corner store. I walk up to the counter. The same gentleman is here every night. Jerry was a good man. Worked two jobs to make sure his little girl got into a good school. As I was paying for my cigarettes the door opened. “The money in the register give it to me! Now!” The boy was waving a revolver in the air, wearing a ski mask. Great just what Jerry needed. A robbery. Jerry slowly handed the money over just a handful of bills, couldn’t have been more than fifty bucks in the register. The boy grabbed it. And fired a single shot. Jerry collapsed. Now, you need to know something about me. Although I want nothing more then to finally find my eternal resting place I look down on wasted life. Jerry had done what the boy wanted. There was no point in killing the guy. He turned the gun on me. My hand moved. The robber screamed. My grip on his hand caused him to drop the gun. His fingers had jutted out at weird angles. Blood was starting to drip out of my gloved hand. The contempt I felt for someone with no grasp of the worth of human life was unbearable. “There is no room on this planet for any more people who kill needlessly.” “You broke my @#$%ing hand! @#%$ Off psycho!” “You don’t understand the favor I’m about to do for you” As he started to form words my free hand grabbed his throat. I gripped as hard as I could. These hands have bent steel and can crush bone. I saw the life leave his face. I released my grip. I grabbed my cigarettes. The rain had gotten worse. People who didn’t deserve to had died, but not me, never me. Now I need that drink.

I stared forward, just simply waiting for the tell tale signs of a message. The gods had been quiet the past few decades, and I was starting to get bored. Couldn’t they find anything for me to do. The last request had been to easy. Some silly little doll maker who had “stepped into the realms of divine power”, or something similar. All I need is something to occupy my time I thought to myself. The mortal trappings with which I did occupy my time had slowly become uninteresting. Television was the same old stories that had been rerun so many times in the past fifty years I could pretty much guess the plot before I got through the first ten minutes of the show. Movies were actually less inspired than television. Newer creations like video games were simply not realistic enough to catch my eye. The only thing mortal I actually enjoyed was alcohol. Its effects didn’t change for me. My body didn’t become more resilient, it was already at its peak. Of course it took enough to cause alcohol poisoning to get me buzzed, so it wasn’t really frugal of me to get trashed more than once a month. Of course that would mean I would actually need someway to get money. The money I had gathered was slowly running dry. I remember back when some of today’s big business was just getting onto the stock market. If I had actually just kinda got into the market a little I could probably keep this life style going for centuries. Man, hindsight is the greatest thing THEY ever considered to give mankind. It let’s us look back on our past failings and see why they happened. Or they let us revel in the sheer stupidity of our past actions. I’m gonna have to vote for option number two. Suddenly, I felt the room falling away from me, and time slowing to a halt. A chill slowly crept up my spine. This feeling never got normal, never could get past it. I really wish they could get a less freaky way of contacting me. Whatever, the fact is this meant some excitement (hopefully), which meant I could finally get in some practice, I was starting to feel a little rusty. Eyes formed in the darkness before me, like twin moons floating in a starless night. A wicked smile curled out from underneath them. The Coven was here to chat. Great. This meant I was probably gonna die at least once during this assignment. Fantastic. I really do love a challenge, but this was gonna be beyond what I could do and I knew it. The Coven only spoke to me when something ridiculous came along. She really must have gotten a kick out watching me get brutalized. Their voice echoed in my very being. She wasn‘t speaking, it was more like her thoughts flew through my body into my mind then screamed, “Servant, The other gods and US have finally found a task worthy of your attention. During a recent rite the weakest member, Equilos, attempted to seize my power, but failed and was split in twain. His power then escaped into the human world and now resides in two beings. Find them and destroy them, and return his power to us.” Great. Now the power of one of the most powerful beings in the universe was on Earth. And I had to find it. And I needed to kill it. This was gonna hurt. This was gonna push me past the brink. Maybe even kill me. Yeah. Maybe if I was lucky I could finally get some peace. Yeah. And I was gonna meet the woman of my dreams and finally have a family that wouldn’t go insane and damage the world and those who lived in it. Oh yeah. That was gonna happen. I wake up. Still groggy. Still asleep. I drag myself up. The wooden floor is cold, sending shivers to my brain. I wake up more. I push myself up off my ratty mattress. I let my feet lead me. I arrive at the sink. They always went there first. I look into the mirror. That’s why they always drag me to the sink. So I can get the self loathing out of the way. Everyone I ever killed glares at from inside those steely blue eyes. I wanna die, everyday that I see those eyes. Their haunting gaze stares into my mind. Its hard to beat that everyday, but if I didn’t then I would just sit there, wishing to die. Never being able to die but wanting to. It was a horrible thing to do. To waste all that time. Suddenly the face in the mirrors cracks. The thin face crowned with blonde hair shatters into a hundred pieces. I take a few moments to pull the few shards of glass in my hand out. Never let the hate bother me that much. It didn’t really bother me, it was just scar tissue. I bathe, cleaning away the hate at least until tomorrow. I get dressed, throw on my jacket. A familiar sensation runs through my body. The bleeding stopped. I grab the only friend I have off the wall. It’s weight feels good in my hands. I slide my anger onto my back. As I head towards my door I grab my glasses. I don’t need them but they remind me of why I’m still here. My hands place a pack of cigarettes into my chest pocket. I turn the knob. The light hits my eyes and the world goes white for a second. I walk onto the streets of city. Its all noise, and human bodies, twisting together into a hating, wretched mass. It always helps to reaffirm my whole reason for living. “Hey, Manfred!”, A feminine voice calls to me from down the street, followed by the clicking of hard heels on hard pavement. I turn towards the sounds. I see a full grown women moving towards me, brown curls bouncing with the rest of her. Hope was a hooker. Hope is a great name for a hooker. “If you have to address me please call me Mr.Cohlberg.”, I simply wanted some respect. Since I don’t have any friends those who did know me should address me as a gentleman. “Man your uptight.”, a little bit of whimsical music in her voice. If I hadn’t been ready for it then it might have caught me off guard. There was a little bit of magic in her voice. Probably why she had so many return clients. “Just gonna ask for a smoke.” “Their bad for your health, so N-O.”, I said as I slipped a cigarette into my mouth. Talking to mortals always reminds me of talking to a 2 year-old. Why did they always find the need to harm themselves. Sure I hated being alive, but the suicidal phase was way past. And, pain is really just something that can be ignored, once it’s a common occurrence. “Fine, …Mr.Cohlberg, guess you finally found some work, huh?” “You could say that. Take care Hope.” I’m not really one for conversation. And I do have some work to do. I have learned from the past though. I know not to rush things. I always let myself think out a situation. Losing myself to my emotions has never helped me, in work or in privacy. I have perfect hindsight. - From the diary of the undying assassin