Resting without awairness of the passing of time, sitting on a stone bench, still just at the bottom straightaway from the stairs from the entrance room, his hand held over the wound in his leg, Quincy The Great's witts began to slowly return. The section that he was, had seemed to fade away in a grey haze until now, as he became awair of his surroundings once more, all becomming clear, the details sharpened as if the wetting of a faded picture on cloth. Becomming awair of the sound of the torch burning on the ground, he glanced then to the still-open entrance above. With a few deep breaths to clear his head he stood, wabbelly at first, sheathing his sword; that was the form of the family spirit-weapon or etherial weapon whilst in his hands. He then drew his staff that had been diagonally carried on his back in a leather sleath on a strap around his upper body. Also crossing his arrow quiver that his longbow hung from as well. The staff being a bit shorter than Quincy The Great, was now used to steady himself as he made his way to retrieve the torch. Then the annoying struggle just to get up the stairs as if he was aged, dispite his great strength. Though, with every step, he grew more allert & recovered. In the round room above, he made his way to the entrance, now realized to be a window, now the latice at ground level with the outside. Pausing to look out at the night-sky & breathing in the fresh air, he reached out to the doors and found their handles, as shutters for the window, pulling them back inward to close the exit & prevent further outside-dangers from entering unexpectedly. Turning & back down the stairs, he made his way to the peg with the ring of keys again. Switching the torch to the same hand as the staff, he reach up, taking the keys from the peg with his left hand, then thurn, looking to the right to the seemingly dead-end hallway with the cell on the inner or left wall as he looked. Again no sound but the torch, he went back to the end, turning to the cell & held his torch up, with staff also, to seem as if a very long-ended torch in his hand. Inside was still a haze of brown with the dark bundle in one corner. Trying the key that seemed appropriate, he heard a click as he shrugged & pondered that he hadn't even checked to see if it was locked in the first place. Leaving they keys in the lock, he tested the cell bars now & found they were now unlocked, as the cell door creeked open with a sound that made his teeth ache. The smell of dust & straw & stone and now iron burned at his nostrils as he looked inside, stepping in, he found indeed the floor was covered in straw, the dark bundle of rags remained unmoving. Thinking what it could be, he took again the torch in his left hand & staff in his right, he came a bit closer, then reaching out, poked at the pile of ragged clothing with his staff, thinking maybe some longdead prisoner, and rightly so but not in the way he expected. It moved ... on it's own. Then a mournful moaning was heard. Moving his hand further down the staff to be centered & able to use in combat if needed, he watched as the dark brown raggs slowly lifted up, then turning to him, a creature of tar-like skin and glowing red eyes, though it could have been the reflectin of the torchlight, came to full standing then, raising it's arms, came at Quincy The Great. Stepping back out of the cell as the claw-like fingers came at him, the mouth gaping open with teeth seeming as if shriveled parchment, black gumbs barely holding them in, yet not wishing to risk a bite from them, no-the-less. The dark-brown ragged clothing hung like shredded wet leavs, in tatters. Lunging quickly, Quincy The Great, swung at it but the blow seemed to do little good. Again a swing, at best, slowing it a bit. Backed up to the center section, Quincy The Great dropped the torch and gripped the staff with both hands, swinging downward with incredible might, onto the Zombie's head. It's head collapsed in as if a gord ran over by a waggon-wheel, but then to his astonishment, it just stood there as it's head reformed, blossoming out as if a bubble of tar, the blackend head took shape ((like a balloon being inflated, rather)). Still seeming to do no damage, he tried to hit an arm, that bent & semed broke, folding over his staff as if a reed but then strangely, seemed to streighten fully mended nearly instantly. Another blow, sweeping the leggs, as it fell but soon was getting up. Retreating to the straightaway, with the stairs behind him, he leaned his staff against the right wall, quickly drew his bow & readied one of the magic silver arrows. Regretting having to use such an expensive arrow so soon, he took aim and fired at the thing as it rounded the corner of the T-section. The arrow went wide & missed, hitting the side wall. Knotching the 2nd silver arrow, hastily, he fired again and now hitting the other wall, the sound of stone chipping with the breaking arrows. With the final one, begrudging that it would leave him withought any further silver arrows, he took careful aim. As if cursed, the arrow again missed, hitting the 1st wall again, though nearer to the floor than the first arrow. Dropping his bow, he drew his sword, the etherial spirit weapon. As the Zombie reached him, though slow-moving, Quincy The Great was nearly take by surprise, slashing upward as he drew. One of the arms of the creature was surprisingly easily lopped off. Kicking the zombie back with a boot to it's middle, giveing Quincy The Great enough time to realize how seemingly effective the slice had been. He then raised his sword and brought it down on the creature's other arm as it was getting up. Still staggering to get up, Quincy The Great, soon swished the Etherial weapon through one of it's leggs, then swiftly lopping off the other. Even the torso alone seemed determined to reach him, so another blow, as if chopping wood, was delivered to it's neck. Kicking the twitching body, he then took a chop at it as well, utterly dismembering it. Trusting that it would eventually stop moving, he decided to continue his exploration of this place. Retrieving his staff, longbow and even the silver, now broken, arrows; hoping they could be reforged or at least the silver reclaimed or something. He started onward, turning now left at the T-section. What did he find down the left corrador? Read the next chapter to find out. ;-)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
