Fear No Evil

Angry Alexondra

At the graveyard, high up a hill, Sage McCarty stood before two of the oldest gravestones, Dob and Rip Green, now both empty. The engraving upon both stones read: LOVED AND MISSED NOT FORGOTTEN. Below that Dob's read 2047-2112. His brother had died five years earlier. She pulled her hood back to reveal dark curls and full lips, little to no makeup applied for she was naturally beautiful. After last night's pouring downfall the morn was unusually quiet. She listened to the birds chirping in the trees and goats bleating, possibly miles away. The sky was overcast and the wind nonexistent. Trouble was on the horizon she thought. Another skeleton was on the loose and most certainly commanded by the Mad Necromancer named Flyz. It was time to get proactive and hunt down this scourge. She should have coordinated with Sergeant Flagdan and his captain. She could have-- Screams and shouts came from somewhere north of her. She ran down the hill, her cowl flowing behind her, and jumped the short fence, but caught her robe on a spiked iron. The robe ripped at her knees yet gratefully allowed her to run faster. More noise directly north. Turning into the next avenue she readied another explosive spell but was too late. She started to count the dead. Three bodies and a fourth wounded.

   Flyz wore a long black and silver robe that blended under the shade and was designed with the unique embroidery of spiders, bats, and skulls. He tried to avoid the daylight as much as possible. Reason one: The Vanguard would certainly attempt to kill him once he was spotted as a Necromancer. And not that anyone would recognize him from an age ago, but he still stuck out like a bright red dragon in a clear blue sky. Reason two: If anyone had a closer look they would realize he carried the Madboil contagion that was now spreading to the citizenry in his presence and so he needed to hide his pox-ridden face from any wandering bystanders. This was the chance he took for his impatience. An undisciplined and anxious madman could not hold back his deadly agenda.

   Alex headed back to her smithy to arm herself. If she had known how dangerous shopping in the city would be she could've been better prepared.

   Outside, a burly man in a lightweight smock was fanning the oven with the bellows, working on molding horseshoes. He saw her approach. "Back so soon, Alex?"

   "Aye, me day has been ruined, Fred. I was robbed, then nearly killed by a skeleton!"

   "A skeleton? That sounds exciting!"

   "Nae that exciting. I had to run. I want me hammer before I go out again," she said as she opened the door to the shop. Fred followed her inside hoping to learn more about her encounter.

   Flyz stood and watched from the shadows. He spoke the word-- "Chofelor." A dense mist began to rise around what was left of the rickety twin brother who stumbled and swayed down the streets of Vradenburg. Partly hidden now it could strike out at the citizenry without repercussions.

   At the counter, Dhilar the Dwarf was organizing nuts and bolts waiting for patrons. It was a slow day. "Welcome, welcome," he greeted them in a friendly voice. "Oh, it's you," he said disappointed.

   "Do nae get too excited, Dhilar. Just picking up me hammer."

   Dhilar huffed and went back to counting the inventory. His job may have been tedious and boring, but at least it wasn't as dangerous as adventuring out in the wilderness.

   "So what else happened," Fred continued.

   "Och, I met some weird priestess and a silly Elf."

   "But you said you were robbed." He scratched under his white-tipped, black beard.

   Alex had her choice of blacksmith hammers. A wooden and steel hammer hung from the far wall with a stone one betwixt them leaning against it. She grabbed the stone mallet and hefted it onto her shoulder. No one could claim she was being indecisive.