Hamlet of Zombies

From the Scrolls of the Prefect of Bolden...

I, Largas of the Plains, write this tale. I speak of what I have seen with my eyes and heard with my ears.

First a merchant came, selling his wheat and barley. But he was sick so he did not leave when his wares were gone. Instead we kept watch over him for three days of fever and ache. On the third day he seemed like us to have died. By that evening he had risen with rage in his eyes and murder in his heart. He attacked his hosts and slew many of them with his hands and teeth.

Those who were dead we buried, those who were wounded grew ill and were taken with a fever and ache. We watched and prayed that they would not be like the traveling merchant. After three days had passed, our town was transformed into the hunted and the hunters. Zombies we called them and they did not rest, nor did they grant us respite.

We were six survivors after a fortnight. We journeyed to the next village and found it overrun by zombies. Resigned to the end of the world, we returned home to despair. We dug tunnels and hid in them. We set snares and traps to destroy those who meant us harm. Only fire would kill them and we were outnumbered.

But then five heroes came to our hamlet. Five of them brought blades of judgment upon the zombies. One by one they put the zombies to the sword. When they left us, our town was clear and the funeral pyres burned high. Our town will always remember the Orc Man, Red Gurdy, Osafa the dark-skinned, Aloevera, and Enos the Wizard.

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