McIan
Journeyman
The myrmidon undead creature, a zombie more or less, wandered the ill-used, weed cramped lanes, trails, and footpaths encompassing the township of Yew – searching in vain for its new master. On spotting a human form, whether near or far, and despite being itself seen or not, gazed long upon it. The sockets of its eyes glowed with crimson fire for a few moments as it hissed two words. When no suitable reply was forthcoming, whether the words were heard or not, the eye sockets darkened again and the creature shambled away slowly in a different direction.
This had gone on for days, ever since its overlord, Damian Racsen, had sent it to Yew as a gift to the new governor. For a time it lurked about the governor’s office, being unnoticed except by those who came too close, and those that did, did not tarry long. The thing’s stench would produce a gag reflex in buzzards and rats, so said some who had come too near it.
Reporting it to the Royal guards who seemed lazier than usual, did nothing. “It has harmed no one,” one replied. “We are prohibited from interfering with anything that makes no aggressive action. We do keep the mongbats under control, don’t we? What more do you chicken-livered bumpkins want of us on our salaries?!”
A few stray dogs had tried to have their way with it, but the thing simply clutched them and flung them, half paralyzed, to the ground… where they rolled yelping to flee in pain and terror.
Citizens clutched their children, bringing them indoors well before evening. Some had gone missing but nothing could be laid at the feet of the creature. It simply roamed to and fro, day and night, whispering the two words…
“Maasster Gaaaven?”
This had gone on for days, ever since its overlord, Damian Racsen, had sent it to Yew as a gift to the new governor. For a time it lurked about the governor’s office, being unnoticed except by those who came too close, and those that did, did not tarry long. The thing’s stench would produce a gag reflex in buzzards and rats, so said some who had come too near it.
Reporting it to the Royal guards who seemed lazier than usual, did nothing. “It has harmed no one,” one replied. “We are prohibited from interfering with anything that makes no aggressive action. We do keep the mongbats under control, don’t we? What more do you chicken-livered bumpkins want of us on our salaries?!”
A few stray dogs had tried to have their way with it, but the thing simply clutched them and flung them, half paralyzed, to the ground… where they rolled yelping to flee in pain and terror.
Citizens clutched their children, bringing them indoors well before evening. Some had gone missing but nothing could be laid at the feet of the creature. It simply roamed to and fro, day and night, whispering the two words…
“Maasster Gaaaven?”