Tuesday, July 17, 2012

These Mean Streets

The girl child sank to her knees in the deep snow, in the intersection of two streets. Clutching her ragdoll to her chest, her whimpers were lost in the howling wind. The blizzard roared on, a heavy curtain of snow veiling the buildings around her. The sounds of the battles that raged throughout the city were deadened by the thick snowfall.
 Trogun Smith, paladin of Tempus, turned a corner onto the street, his breath pluming out in great clouds of steam. He'd been sent out by his temple to see to the safety of the citizens, while others of his order were battling the dragons. Anyone that was in danger, Trogun was to lead them back to the temple grounds. Spying the child in the crossroads, lit in the dim lamplight, he trotted towards her.
 "Child, what are you doing out here? Where's your family?" he called out, dropping to one knee beside her. He undid the clasp of his cloak, cocooning the girl in the thick folds of the lined fabric. Trogun rose to his feet, taking a couple of swift steps to the north end of the intersection. He came to an abrupt stop, seeing a silouette through the blowing snow, impeding his way. Something spoke to Trogun's warrior instincts that something was not right about this figure. Trogun turned to his left, holding the bundled up child to his steel breastplate and stopped short again. This exit was impeded by another shambling figure, stumbling it's way into the intersection.
 Trogun quickly looked to the other two exits, and saw that they too were blocked. A sinking feeling developed in his gut. The girl was bait, he'd fallen for the trap. The figures stepped into the light thrown off by the streetlamps, they were undead. Simple zombies. They weren't smart or cunning enough to have set up a trap.
 "Child, I need to set you down, just for a moment. I need you to stay where I put you, understand?" he asked.
 The girl nodded, her whimpering becoming louder as the fear of the situation sank in. The paladin set the bundle down, and drew the hammer that hung at his side. Casting a glare to each of his opponents, he called out to them "Come on, you bastards! Feel the kiss of Tempus, god of battle!"
 Safely above the streets, watching from a rooftop of one of the buildings, Delrach the Vile watched his minions close on the human. A chuckle tumbled from his undead lips. He had no doubt that the paladin could easily dispatch the zombies, but the trail back to the church's haven was long. He could wear the warrior down, and if possible, deliver the remains back to his mistress. She could raise him and add to her substantial army. Oh, glorious days were ahead...

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