Neil Hartley - Tired of Death - Dungeon

Theodore the White swung his sword mightily, cleaving the zombie intwo. It disintegrated in a dry explosion of dust and bone, chokinghim. Another of the monsters reached for him from behind, forcinghim to reverse a short way and use his elbow barbs to fend if off.He felt the spike pierce rotten flesh, and heard the sickly soundof trapped air escaping from the zombies gut. It fell away,dropping to the floor as its un-life drained away.
There was a brief respite as the creatures regrouped, and thefighter took the opportunity to wipe his brow, breathing hard. Hisarmor, shined to a silver gleam just the other day, was now dentedin several places and covered with grime and goo. He had lost hishelmet a short while ago, knocked off even as it had protected himfrom a lucky blow by a club wielding skeleton, and his blond hairwas tousled, sticking out randomly.
He glanced about. He was still in the same corridor he had wanderedinto earlier, though further along. The walls were made from smoothdark gray stone, bereft of any significant marks. The floor wasalso made of stone, though a little darker. The passage was narrow,leaving little room to maneuver, and this was limiting his abilityto swing his sword effectively. However, it also hindered thezombies that were once more moving forward, reaching for him withyellowing claws outstretched. He shouted a short battle cry andthrust at a gap-toothed, grinning face in front of him, splinteringthe skull and tearing the head away from the neck.
A hand grasped his leg and he stamped on it hard, snapping the bonewith a gruesome crack as he drove his weapon into another body,tearing a gaping hole in the side. He panted, his breath emergingin loud gasps that echoed through the passage as he pounded at thezombies. His attackers made no noise other than a windy wheezing.
He blocked another lunge, lamenting once again the impulse to do alittle exploring on his own, away from the safety of his fellowadventurers. Too late for regrets now of course, though how couldhe have known that slab would drop and block his exit? Redthornehas insisted this area was safe. He wouldnt trust wizards anymore, that was for sure.
He grabbed a cold arm that tried to wrap itself around his neck andtwisted, wrenching it clean off at the shoulder. He swung thedismembered limb like another weapon, becoming desperate now. Itsmashed against the side of an undead thing with a half staved-inhead, doing nothing much in the way of damage.
There was a hissing from behind, indicating more zombies wereapproaching. With strength borne from desperation he hacked at thetwo still in front of him. Gray skin split and yellow ribssplintered as they fell aside under his onslaught. He pushed past,careening blindly down the tunnel, outrunning his pursuers, whomoaned with rage at his escape.
Two ancient doors, dark with age, lay ahead. One blocked thecorridor; the other was set into the wall on the left. He slammedinto the first one, hoping to break through. Instead he bounced offwith a dull thud, dropping his sword on the floor with a metallicclang.
Regaining his balance, he looked around. Without the wizard toreplenish his magical illumination it was becoming difficult tosee.
He could hear the zombies closing on his position, and franticallypushed on the second door. To his immense relief it swung open witha loud creak. Slipping inside, he slammed it shut behind him. Offto the side he could just make out a broken crossbeam leaninghaphazardly against the wall. He reached for it, and used it tobrace the door, before slumping against it himself.
There was a loud thump as the zombies slammed against the otherside, trying to gain entry. Their dead hands scratching the wood ina futile attempt to reach their prey.
Ssssecure issss it? a dry voice whispered next to his ear.
He jerked and reached for his sword, only then remembering it wasstill on the floor where he had dropped it, on the other side ofthe door.
That wassss carelessss of you, came the voice. I bet you wontdo that twicccce.
A cold hand caressed his hair. Welcome to my lair mortal.
Theodore the White turned and looked into a face, a wrinkled andancient face, skin pulled tight over the skull. A hint of redtwinkled within the depths of otherwise dead black eyes.
Thin lips pulled back to reveal long yellowing teeth. A breath ofcold, as if from a tomb, washed over him. He screamed as chillfingers wrapped around his neck, and tried pulling at a wrist thatshould have snapped off in his grasp, yet the hand remained firmlywhere it was, and squeezed.
Theodores vision began to dim as his air supply was cut off. Hetried to shout as he felt two sharp fingers pierce his eyeballs,but his body refused to co-operate. Pain ran through his head ashis ocular orbs burst like ripe grapes, spilling blood down hischeeks. His body spasmed as he was lifted off the floor and pinnedagainst the wall.
As he breathed a strangled death rattle, Theodore the White feltthose ancient digits pierce his skull and rip into his verybrain
~ * ~
Its not fair, you always get them. All we get is cut topieces.
Dreth looked up at the zombie, who was holding his detached arm inhis left hand. He chewed on a piece of fresh brain, taken from thenewly killed fighter, as he spoke. Thats what zombies do. Theyrejust the warm up. Anyway, you had that wizard a little while backdidnt you?
That was two centuries ago! the zombie retorted. And he was ascrawny one too.
Well, thats life, said Dreth, shrugging.
Ha! If only. Well, I better scrape up the remains of Arnold Isuppose. Cut his skull clean in half your dinner did, and Im allout of bone glue too. The zombie shuffled out.
Dreth shook his head as the undead closed the door to his crypt. Helooked down at the latest catch and then dragged him over to theside of the room. Another death. How many was that over the years?A hundred? A thousand? He had stopped counting.
Sure, it had been fun being undead, or whatever he was, when he wasfirst posted here. Ripping the eyeballs out of adventurers stillliving skulls, tearing off limbs and generally finding horribleways to kill and torture. After so long though, hed begun to thinkof the future, and lets face it, eternity is a pretty longtime.
He did a fair imitation of a sigh, and gazed around his chamber.The room was a reasonable size, due deference to his status, withanother small chamber off to one side. Standard dungeon design, thewalls were made of dark stone blocks, as was the floor, which wascluttered with loot. Most of the gear was armor and weapons takenfrom his many victims, but a couple of chests near the back werestuffed with gold. The coins and jewels were a kind of torture inthemselves. It wasnt as if there was anything he could buy aroundhere. The other room held piles of bones, the remains ofadventurers foolish or unlucky enough to cross his path.
It was his own fault, he admitted to himself. Hed made his owntomb, now he had to lie in it. When the mysterious wizard hadoffered a nave young adventurer immortality, in return for actingas a guard for a while, he should really have read the small printfor the definition of a while.
Still, what were his choices, really? He could search for thewizard, but he knew the odds were slim that he was still aliveafter all this time. Then again, he could remain as he was. Sure,one day someone powerful enough to beat him for good may comethrough his door, but that could be a thousand years hence.