Post by Monday
I went to the town hall, right under their bony noses. I don’t think they saw me. At least, I don’t think they did. I don’t think they did. I set up near the Mayor’s Podium, using my cloak for a blanket. It doesn’t become cold unless Araj comes near, and when he does, I can use my cloak.
I have been constantly hounded by the Scourge for about three or four days, I don’t remember. It started when I took shelter in the town hall. There was nowhere to go that night, and I think the Scourge knew where I was before that. I abandoned the house I originally found to stay in and kept moving. Each time I moved immediately afterward the Scourge would find a house and wreck it. I think I’m slowly being herded toward somewhere, but I don’t know where.
I was attacked by a zombie when I was inside. I easily dispatched it and slipped out of the town hall. They couldn’t catch me, and I hid in the attic of a two story store. There were some supplies up there, but I dare not eat them in case they are tainted. I have rations with me, and I think they’ll hold out for another two weeks, max.
After I spent the night in the attic, something started coming up the stairs. I hid in the fireplace until it left, and I hurried down the stairs and away from there. Right now I’m on top of a hill at the edge of the city.
I can see the lights of Chillwind Camp.
The rest of the page is blurred beyond recognition.
78?. I hear. Them. Everywhere. They're coming. Can't sleep. Ever. They'll eat me. Eat.
Khaz was awakened by a banging noise. Sitting bolt upright, he quickly relaxed and dropped to the floor. Silently cursing himself for giving away his position, he peered between the bars of the fence blocking off the podium from the rest of the Audience Room.
A dark figure shuffled around in the dark, seemingly at random. Khaz slowly slipped his sword from its sheath, and stood to a crouch, waiting. As the zombie came by, Khaz jumped up and slit its throat. Seemingly destroying the dark magic that animated it, the zombie toppled to the ground. Breathing a sigh of relief, Khaz wiped his forehead shakily.
After about an hour of no movement, Khaz wrapped his cloak around himself and went back to sleep. He awoke the next morning, bitterly cold. Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, Khaz huddled in the corner. After a few minutes the feeling lessened, and he unwrapped himself and started toward the door. Peering out, he saw no undead.
Slowly, carefully, Khaz slipped out of the Town Hall and looked around the corner of the building. Seeing nothing, he sprinted to a nearby house and dodged inside. Determining that nobody was following him, Khaz laughed a shrill, but quiet laugh of relief. Spying some stairs, he quickly climbed them.
Before he reached the top of the stairs, he pulled out his sword again and checked all the rooms.
Khaz slipped into a middle room, which was filled with several boxed. Grunting with the effort, Khaz slipped a sword in one crate and pried the lid off. The smell of meat reached his nostrils, and he peered inside. Several cases of dried meat were stacked inside. Immediately Khaz’s mouth began to water, but he stopped himself. These were in Andorhol, where the plagued grain spread from. With a burst of willpower, he thrust the box away from him, and curled in a corner to sleep.
He awoke. Something felt wrong. He couldn’t hear or see anything obviously wrong, but something was.
Then it clicked.
The smell. He smelled undead. Quickly dashing for the fireplace, he slid inside. After about a minute, the door creaked open. He could see a huge creature in the doorframe, but it couldn’t see him. Eventually the door shut, and the creaking went back down stairs.
After waiting half an hour, Khaz slipped out of the house and sprinted toward the end of the street. Three ghouls came around the corner. He immediately sliced one head off and ducked under another, thrusting his sword up and slicing it’s abdomen into two pieces. The third smacked him on the side of the face, opening up several small cuts on Khaz’s face.
Outraged, Khaz sliced its head off, then cut its arms off. Panting in rage, he bent down and ripped a leg off, and started beating the zombie with it. After about two minutes, he let off, panting.
Khaz held up the ripped off leg to his face, and stared at it in horror. Throwing it away wildly, he ran, putting as much distance between him and the dead bodies as he could, eventually winding up on a rock at the very southern edge of the city.
“So close…” Khaz murmured, the first words he had spoken in three days.
He curled up to sleep, and stayed that way for a day and a half.
He awoke again, at twilight. Moans echoed around him, and the sound of shuffling feet came from everywhere. Slipping off his rock, he dropped behind a house. When nothing came after him, he opened his back and chewed on some rations, and dropped off to sleep again, still exhausted.