Hylore – Seahold (Noreland Capital) Spring 2344 AS

  Day 17

  The air was cold and damp. This close to the wall, the air was mist, but the further I looked, it became thick fog. The war mace was gripped tightly, and I felt nervous. I did not want to be here, but I knew getting this done quickly would get me out of here.

  There was a path ahead of me, which I followed, taking me into the fog and cemetery. I moved slowly, crouching slightly. My head was on a swivel, turning the minute I heard even the faintest hint of sound. This often calls me to pause as I walk. I did know what I was walking into, and my instincts were all heightened.

  I had gone about twenty meters from the gates, where I paused again and looked back. I could barely make them out as the light grey fog was surrounding me. I had to be incredibly careful, as it would be too easy to lose myself in this place.

  There were plenty of gravestones around me, but also surface tombs now. I suspected I would run into full-blown mausoleums as I progress deeper. From what little I learned about this place, the central area of the cemetery was dominated by vast and impressive family mausoleums. They also went deep into the ground, forming a mini catacomb. I had heard they pressed up against the sewer system and the undercity.

  Another place I didn't want to visit.

  The fog drenched everything, and that started to include me. Only my head was exposed. My hair was damp now. This made things slippery, and I had to be careful as I walked. The cobblestone path below me was broken and unmaintained. Weeds and grass were growing out between the different stones, making the surface uneven.

  The cold was slowly seeping into me. It was a natural cold. The damp hair was amplifying it, but there was something fundamentally wrong about it. I can barely make out the sun through the fog. Even dressed in my armour and its ability to contain my body heat, I was starting to shiver.

  I was trying to move without sound, but I was having a bit of trouble with everything I was carrying. I didn't want to leave any of it behind, as if I did, this would be the day I would need that particular item. Murphy and his law were a bastard after all.

  I continued walking for a couple more metres before I stopped again. This time, I saw a hint of movement to my right. I crouched, nearly kneeling, and focused on the spot where I thought I'd seen movement. The fog was swirling like a thick pea soup. After a few moments, I thought I'd imagined it, but then it was again. The slight flicker of movement disturbed the fog.

  I began moving in that direction, using the tombs and gravestones to mask my approach. I did my best to remember the route I was taking, as I will need to find the way back to the path.

  The further I went from the path, the clearer the figure's movements became as the fog revealed it. There was something out there moving in a slow, jerky manner. I didn't think it was a person, given how it moved and where I was. The cemetery was not known as a popular spot for public interaction or walking.

  I was behind the figure with its back to me. It was definitely undead, as even from a distance, with the fog around me, I could see it was a very rotten corpse. It was dragging one leg as it walked, its hands at odd angles. From the height and shape of the body, it appeared to have been a man. Most of the clothes and flesh were gone now.

  "Right, Hector. But get this done." I muttered to myself quietly, psyching myself up to do what needed to be done.

  It took another step forward, and I moved from behind the gravestone I was crouched behind. I gripped my war mace tightly in both hands and began moving up as quietly as I could behind it. I lifted the mace as I approached, ready to strike down. I need to destroy the skull to prevent the thing from continuing to move. The distance between us closed rapidly, and the thing stopped. It might have heard me.

  I was too close now, and I swung down with all my strength behind the war mace. The heavy iron head of the war mace collided with the back of the skull, causing it to explode like a ripe melon. The undead figure collapsed to the floor face-first and stopped moving. Alerts flashed in the corner of my vision, but I ignored them until suddenly there was a wave of cold that swept over me and seemed to drain my strength.

  "Damn it!" I cursed myself and opened the alerts.

  
  Critical strike: + 200% damage.

  Undead Shambler killed. Experience gained. >

  I doubled over, breathing hard, trying to push back the effects of the grave chill. My body felt weaker, and my head felt clouded. This was the worst time to pick up this effect, but I had to press on. It was then that the stench of the corpse hit me, and I doubled over again, trying not to puke my guts out. I had to move away from it, but then doubled over again to stop throwing up.

  I straightened myself again and realised my stupidity.

  "I should have used on it before I attacked!" I cursed myself under my breath and promised myself to do better next time.

  I looked down at the body and wondered if I should search it for anything worthwhile, but looking at the decaying flesh at my feet, I thought no. I looked back the way I came and realised that the moisture was actually providing me with one more benefit. The grass I crossed to reach this point still bears my footprints, faintly highlighted against it by the damp air. I had a route back to the pathway. Looking around, my fear of getting lost within the fog and cemetery was more realistic than I dreaded.

  I followed it back to the path and felt a lot better now that the broken cobblestones under my feet were again. I began walking deeper into the cemetery again.

  I wasn't making fast times, still stopping to check on every little thing. That's when I spotted the second hint of movement in the fog. It was to my left this time, and I paused watching the area. This time, confirmation of movement came faster. I realised the figure moving out there, slowly revealing itself, was walking a path that would cross mine. I quickly shifted my position to hide next to a surface tomb. I peeked around the corner to get a better idea of what I was dealing with.

  There is definitely a figure moving, and I use this opportunity to use . I felt a tug of energy in my body from an unfamiliar place. That was where my mana was being stored to trigger the skill.

  

  It worked! That thing out there was a rotting undead shambler. It was clearly an undead monster, but apart from that, I knew nothing else.

  I stayed pressed up against the tomb wall, waiting for the thing to pass. Which it did…. Eventually. These undead shamblers were very slow. This one used to be a woman, and it was moving in the ruins of a dress. I could see the face, and I noted the difference from the last undead I've seen. The one in the tomb below the tavern had purple lighting in its eye sockets. This one had a sickly green. What that meant, I did not know, but it was something I would have to investigate at a later date when I was safely back in the city on the other side of the wall.

  Once its back was to me, I left my hiding place and, like the first, gripped my war mace tightly, closing the distance between us. It started turning, but I couldn't add my mace; it collided with its skull. The force of the blow knocked it down, shattering the skull, but the undead was still moving. This forced me to bring down my mates again, breaking the skull completely, ending its movement.

  
  Rotting Undead Shambler killed. Experience gained. >

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  That was two or four down, I thought as I moved away from the body quickly before the stench got me again. This one took two blows, even with the critical strike bonus. I suspect it was the grave chill that was sapping my strength. I backed away from the rotting pile of flesh and bone. Once back on the broken cobblestone pathway, I made a few practice swings with the war mace. I could use it, but I knew I was not being very skilful with it. It appears my skill did not cover my war mace. I will need to look into investing in buying the skill or training to earn it.

  I really like my war mace and didn't want to part with it.

  I continue walking down the path deeper into the cemetery. The tombs around me were getting larger and more elaborate, while the gravestones were decreasing in number. Occasionally, I passed the statue or a tree. All the trees, however, were dead, stretching to the sky like skeletal hands.

  Many of the tombs had iron railings rusting under the present environmental conditions. Several of the tomb stores were open or disturbed. I wondered if they were due to the undead or grave robbers.

  I've been here for over an hour now, and I'm still making slow progress. Turning around, walking back to the gates, I could be there in less than ten minutes. I was thinking about doing just that when I caught sight of more movement. As before, I paused and crouched, concentrating on that spot in the fog. As I progressed into the cemetery, it only thickened, and I've lost about a third of the distance I could see because of it.

  Another undead shambler was emerging from the fog, and I quickly moved to a spot where I could see it but not me. It seemed their senses were just as imperfect as mine in this thick pea soup of fog. This one was moving diagonally along the path and would pass me soon. I moved to a tomb and waited around the corner, waiting for it to pass before attacking.

  As with the others, it was not moving quickly and had to wait until it was in position. This strained my nerves as I wanted it to be over and out of this place. But eventually its back was to me, and I attacked. The war mace shattered its skull, and it collapsed to its knees, but it was still active. A second blow finished it off.

  
  Rotting Undead Shambler killed. Experience gained. >

  Another wave of colds went through me, and I expected the timer on the grave chill to have been extended again. I was breathing hard, unused to the war mace, which was far heavier than the club I usually used. I have to factor in the grave chill as well, as it was slowly sapping my physical strength.

  De-buffs sucked.

  I tried to lighten my mood by remembering that I was down to one more skeleton, and hopefully, I would have scouted out enough of the cemetery to meet the conditions of the quest. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell because I saw nothing because of the damn fog.

  I returned to the path and continued. As I walked, there were several turnoffs and other routes. I had ignored them, choosing to stay on a steady path. That would make going back far less problematic.

  I kept looking at the various tombs I was passing, and I saw more signs of disturbance: some doors were open, others broken and smashed. I almost prayed that they were not all up and about because that would mean there could be at least fifty or sixty undead running around out there.

  I continue moving forward, but stop suddenly. I heard something.

  I thought I heard a scrape, and I waited, straining my ears to see if I could hear it again. The fog was suppressing everything noise-wise, and I wasn't sure I had in the first place. I spent a long minute there just listening, and I began to think it was just my imagination.

  Scrape.

  There was again, it was subtle but definitely there. Something was dragging along a stone, possibly from a tomb. I crouched again, scanning around, looking for signs of movement. The tombs around me were much closer to the pathway and larger, with gaps between them. Whenever I heard, I could have been down any little alleyways, and I felt rather exposed when I was. I moved closer to the iron railings of the tomb to my right.

  I checked up through the gate until the doors to the tomb were still sealed. The tomb to my left was broken open. There might still be something in there I couldn't see, obscured by the fog and darkness of the building's interior.

  I was sweating despite the chill racking my body, and my mind felt heavy, clouded in a way that I've never experienced before. This grave chill was an absolute bitch to deal with. I was fighting both the symptoms and the environmental conditions on this quest, and I didn't want to do this ever again. I quietly promised myself to do my best not to antagonise the Watch again. They really didn't like guns being pointed at them.

  As I made the promise, I caught the first signs of movement. From one of the alleyways, an undead figure emerged, shambling along. What concerned me more was the second one that appeared right behind it.

  I used on both of them.

  

  

  Sweet! Another percentage point increase. It might not seem like a lot, but every point was vital if I was going to survive here for any period of time. I tried to use this as a means to pump myself up, but the malaise settled on my mind due to the grave chill that remained firmly in place. A new kind of weariness was beginning to affect me, and I recognised it as mana drain. I still had over half of my pool left, but I needed to ration myself and not strain it too much. It was something I wasn't used to, so my body hadn't fully adjusted to accessing it yet.

  I focused on the problem ahead of me. Two shamblers. I was confident I could take down one, but two might be a problem. I watched as they shuffled forward. I tracked them into another alleyway they were about to enter and decided to engage them there. It will limit my swinging space for my mace, but it would stop the two from attacking me together. A trade-off I was willing to make.

  I settled in and waited as they very slowly made their way to the next alleyway. I kept checking around, just in case there were more I had not realised were nearby. It would be too easy to sneak up on someone in this fog, even something as slow as an undead shambler.

  Waiting for them to get into that alleyway was putting even more stress on my nerves. I was gripping the war mace handle so tightly that my knuckles popped. I forced myself to slow down my breathing and calm myself. I had to do this right on the first attempt.

  I was shaking slightly from both nerves and the cold.

  Finally, the second figure went into the alley. I rose from my crouch, hiding position and quickly moved up to the alleyway. Every time I rattled or made a sound, I winced internally. But thankfully, the undead didn't seem to notice as I peeked around the corner, and they were continuing on their way.

  I can tell if the figures were male or female, as they were mostly just rotten carcasses moving. Whatever clothing they had was long gone, and they were mostly bones with chunks of rotten flesh hanging from them. I could smell them now from here.

  I took a deep breath, turned the corner, and followed.

  The first collapsed as I swung my mace down aggressively from an overhead strike. The skull exploded like a rotten melon, and I was covered in the rotten debris.

  
  Rotting Undead Shambler killed. Experience gained. >

  I pushed the body down faster as it collapsed with my boot. The lead undead was turning, realising they were in danger, and was moving far quicker than I had seen before. It seems they reacted in a dangerous way and actually became aggressive. It lunged at me but was introduced to another overhead strike from my mace. Unfortunately, Mr Head caught on the shoulder, but the force of the impact shattered it and knocked him to the ground. As it was trying to get up, I brought down the mace twice more on its skull, pulverising it.

  
  Rotting Undead Shambler killed. Experience gained.

  Eldritch Corruption gained: +1%.>

  My lungs were burning, and I quickly had to get out of the alleyway to start breathing again. I took several deep lungfuls of the cold, damp air, and unfortunately, I caught the smell of the rotten flesh covering my armour. This time, I could not hold it back, and I threw up.

  I use the mace head to try to scrape off the mess from my armour. I also had to wipe my face as some had landed on it. It was disgusting work, and I was dry heaving again by the end of it. I had dropped my pack and pulled out a rag I used to clean various things when needed. I used it on my face and, as much as I could, on my armour, and threw it away, not wanting it to go into my bag.

  I used water from my canteen to help, and I swished it around in my mouth to wash away the taste of stomach acid. I read the last alerts, cursing the third line of text that had appeared. That was my first encounter with Eldritch Corruption. A single point wasn't too bad; I can easily get rid of that, but it was the first sign of the horrors I would have to deal with in the future and the cost.

  I took several moments to collect myself, looking around to make sure I wasn't ignoring a monster creeping up on me. All around me, there was just this fog. I put my canteen away and picked up my pack. It was time to head back to the gates and find out if I had come far enough into the cemetery to meet the second criteria of the quest. I've killed the four required undead with an additional kill. Hopefully, everything I had done would be enough.

  I began moving back the way I had come along the pathway, a bit faster than I had at first. I was still paying attention to what I could make out around me, knowing that I didn't want to blunder into an undead equivalent of an ambush because I was being hasty.

  It took me about forty-five minutes to get back to the gates. I had to pause several times on my journey back as I spotted more figures moving through the fog. There were definitely more undead out there active in the cemetery. But today, from now on, I was going to ignore them.

  I almost cried out in relief when I saw the gates emerge from the fog, and by the time I reached them, I was nearly running. I have done them with the butt of my mace, turning and looking around for anything following me. From above, a guard looked down and called out that someone had returned.

  I heard the doors unlocking and the gates opening slightly. I would often take my pack, slide between the two doors, and, as soon as I was through, they would close and seal again.

  The sergeant who had slept me through earlier was standing there. He took one look at me and his nose wrinkled.

  "By the gods, you stink!" He said, covering his lower face.

  "One of the many joys of my profession, I'm afraid," I said, putting my pack back on.

  Time to see if I'd done enough.