The not-immortal Blacksmith

A Graveyard, formerly Fort Bradley.

The Western Continent.

Night

Sam looked up in the midst of washing his bowl and spoon, “Was that the sound of stone grating on stone? Or is it just me?”

Moments later, in the fading light, they could all see a wave of undead charging towards them across the open land.

Hesh stood immediately and raised a looted war spear (the kind with a cross guard so the enemy can’t run up the shaft) into a low ready position. Sam and Molly reached for their weapons as well; a sword of almost thirty inches for Sam and a war hammer with a two-foot haft for Molly. The three stood in a line with Hesh taking the middle.

The word charge was a large overstatement, as the undead were actually doing more of a controlled fast stumble, than an actual run. The three stood their ground, batting away attacks with their off hands, before hammering the mix of very rotten animated corpses and skeletons to bits. A few minutes of heavy fighting later, the walking corpses were dead again.

“Alright, now that I’m warmed up, shall we see where this lot came from?” Sam asked, looking to his companions. Companions who were covered with bits and pieces of rotten zombie.

“No.”

“Fine.” Sam replied. “How about we clean ourselves up down at the stream on the west side, then check out where the things came from?”

-

The stream was cold, but clean with a smooth sandy bottom. Sand that Hesh mixed with some soap to make a good scrubbing compound. “Remind me not to stand next to Molly any more” Hesh said. “That way I don’t get covered in zombie splatter from the hammer again.”

Sam chortled, and Molly blushed. “Look, I didn’t know the things were going to explode like that! We’ve never fought zombies before!”

-

Leaving behind a now well polluted stream, the three climbed back to the fort, and began to lay out their plan.

“First we need to find where those things came out from, and close it off.” Sam began, “Then we will need to post a guard so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Why don’t we move our camp, such as it is, over to the exit and set up shop there?” Molly asked.

Sam nodded, “Good idea.”

It took the party half an hour to find a large grave that had had its stone cap slid aside. In the bottom was an old ladder leading to the bowels of the fort. Using their combined strength, and what had been learned from previous moving of heavy objects, the re-laid the cap across the grave, then carted the camp to be next to it.

Camp reassembled; a tent, cooking grill, three packs and attached bedrolls moved; the group settled into their standard watch cycle of Sam, Hesh, then Molly, Each taking a three-hour shift.

-

Morning dawned cool and cloudy, with a faint smell of damp in the air. Molly had mixed up a bit of plain oatmeal in the one pot they had, and woke up the sleeping two, and after eating and cleaning, the three prepared to enter “The Dungeon”.

Hesh scavenged what looked to be a decent, if rusty, sword from last night’s slaughter, Sam grabbed a large knife, and Molly grabbed what she called a throwing hatchet.

[VL here with a piece of (fun?) trivia: Technically speaking what Molly grabbed is called a Hand-Axe, not a hatchet due to it not having a hammer on the opposite side from the blade, but she didn’t know any better, so she calls it a hatchet]

Thus equipped, the trio removed the cap from the grave. And found nothing but dirt and bone.

“What in the ever loving…?” Sam almost screamed, looking down into the grave.

“It was there last night.” Molly said, also gawking into the hole.

Hesh shrugged, “It is what it is.” then looked around. “Maybe we should check the base of the old towers for an opening of some sort? Last night could have been a onetime thing.”

They headed to the nearest tower, some hundred yards away, and began poking around the old and broken structure. The ruined tower was around twenty feet per side, roughly square, and made of stone, unlike the wall that had accompanied it, that had been a wooden palisade. The tower had once stood a proud thirty feet in the air, but the top half had been damaged at some point in the past, and had collapsed outside of the walled area.

Over an hour of searching found the group exhausted, but with a door that had been bolted from the inside and wouldn’t budge. Finally, Sam took the initiative and climbed the tower too look inside.

“I know why we can’t open the door!” He called down. “The entire base of the tower is covered in rubble and dead bodies!”

Hesh and Molly looked at each other and groaned. Hesh swore under their breath, then said “Let’s us look for the most intact tower, instead of the closest one this time?”

Sam jumped down and nodded, “Sounds good. Lead the way, McDuff!”

-

It took most of an hour to circumnavigate the old fort and survey all nine of the remaining towers, and much discussion before making a decision on which one to tackle first. They finally decided to try the center, eastern most tower as it was the most intact of the nine.

Using Molly’s hatchet, they cleared all of the brush from the towers base, and on the last cleared wall (the one that faced into the fort) found a half-buried door. They used their hands and their (only) shovel to clear the dirt away from the door, and finally, after several hours of hard labor, had an entrance.

“Let’s take a rest before we try to open the door.” Hesh announced. “I want something in my tummy before I charge into a small confined space that will probably be reeking of the undead.”

“But…but door!” Sam said, somewhat sarcastically.

Molly threw a dirt clod at him. “Re-locate camp, then food, then door.” Hesh and Sam sighed dramatically, then complied.

Camp was moved for the second time, and lunch was a simple affair of grilled ham, bread, and water. Some grumbling was had over a lack of mustard and mayonnaise, but mostly it was a quiet affair. At its end, the trio stood at the door to the tower, and as a group, pushed.