DnD Campaign Chapter 1: Zambamboes
Skivvy pressed his nose close to the ground and sniffed the earth. Zombies. Quite a few of them. And a Gnome? He could definitely smell a Gnome. Up ahead he knew there would be a broken guard tower probably filled with goodies he could eat. His stomach gurgled at the thought of food and he clenched his stomach as hunger pangs wracked him. He hadn’t been able to find any in days. Not with so many infected in the area. He didn’t want to risk running into another person out in the wilderness since those who roam the back-country were rarely friendly but it looked like he had no choice.
He skittered his way toward the tower. Yes... It was exactly what he was hoping for. A large formidable fortress tower, now solitary in its vigil. A structure like this would surely have a cellar of some kind where he could find something to eat. As he moved closer to the tower he spotted the Gnome. A tiny creature, really, he barely stood 3 feet tall! But something was off about him. He wore heavy metal armor and every inch of exposed skin was scarred with burns.
Wixle poked his way through the rubble of the ruined tower looking for anything of use. He smiled a little as he sensed the odd little ratman nervously skittering around the edge of the clearing. Wixle knew he was likely looking for food and he had no intentions of stopping him. Maybe he could make a friend to spend some time with. He had met few people on the road and so had no one to talk to. He didn’t like being alone. It left him too much time to think about what had happened to his late masters. Bandits, fire, and death. Wixle looked at his hands which were scarred and burnt. Those murderers deserved what they got. If only it hadn’t cost the lives of everyone he loved.
Wixle snapped out of his contemplation as he sensed the ratman build up the courage to approach the tower.
“Excuse meh. Would it be a bother if I joined you in this fine towah?” The ratman spoke with a thick Australian accent. Wixle didn’t speak but merely nodded and waved. His vocals cords had been burned in the fire so he thought best not to scare the man away with just his voice. The ratman approached cautiously and stopped a few paces away. “M’names Skivvay. What’s yours?”
“Wixle.” His voice grated against his throat as he spoke. He had more scar tissue than vocal cord anyways. Skivvy jumped at the sound of voice. An acceptably positive response given the obvious anxiety in the rat. “Sorry, I don’t have the best voice, I know.” He turned back to rummaging through the remains of a chest noting the belt of explosives along Skivvy’s waist.
Skivvy skittered away searching the nooks and crannies of the fort in search of anything edible. Nothing. Maybe on the second floor? What a strange being to encounter here. At least he doesn’t want to kill me. He climbed the rotting stairway up to the second floor. And began searching around. Nothing.... Nothing.... Aha! Some jerky! Skivvy quickly pulled it out of the tattered bag it was held in and threw an entire piece in his mouth. I swallowed it whole and popped another piece in his mouth. This time he savored the salty flavor and sat down to enjoy his meal.
“Eh? What’s this? OI! That’s MINE!” A dark haired man lept up from behind a fallen shelf and snatched the bag of jerky back from Skivvy before he could react. “What’s a rat doing going through my stuff?” Skivvy lept back in fear and cowered behind a fallen stone. He pulled out a bomb and readied it for lighting. “Whoa whoa whoa, there’s no need for violence. You don’t seem like an evil creature. I take it you didn’t realize this belongs to me?” The man gestured with the bag. Skivvy nodded.
“I was just searchin’ for some vittles, sah. I didn’t know they were yours.” The man became very still for a moment before saying,
“Well, I s’pose I have some to spare and for all I know you’re infected and could have given it to the jerky. Take it.” He tossed the bag toward Skivvy who stashed his bomb and lept upon the bag with renewed gusto.
Avodah watched the thin ratman dive on the jerky with mild disgust. He had no particular dislike for the species but they still grossed him out, especially while wolfing down several pounds of dried meats. He watched for a moment when he heard a groan from the trees outside. Zombie? No, 3 of them in a pack moving toward the tower.
“Shh! You hear that?” He looked at Skivvy. Skivvy paused in his eating to listen as well. He heard it too. Skivvy quietly stood up and crawled over to a hole in the floor and whispered,
“Wixle, we got a zombie or two commin’ ah way!” Avodah silently crept to the whole to see who Skivvy was speaking to. A gnome? Those are rare, especially in this area of the world. Nice creatures; they don’t carry much evil in their hearts. If this ratman were traveling with a Gnome he was willing to trust them to some extent. He moved over to the window facing where he heard the sounds from, leaned against the corner to conceal himself, and gazed out in search of his targets. He fingered the rusty pistol in his holster. He might not want to use it if he wasn’t sure there were no others around. The noise could travel for almost a mile. Searching.... Searching.... Found ‘em. His blood boiled at the sight of such evil allowed to roam the earth. He whispered to Skivvy,
“We got 3 coming from the north. Kill all sons o’ bitches. Amiright?”
Skivvy smiled and nodded. He scampered down the stairs to the ground floor.
“3 to the north. Lets get ‘em!” Wixle lit a torch and nodded gravelly. Skivvy followed Wixle as he marched to the northern door. He prepped a bomb. When he saw the zombies he lit the fuse and hurled it at them. Direct hit! And with a soft thump the bomb releases a cloud of flame that engulfed all the zombies. The zombies, seeing their quarry, ignored the flames burning them and shambled toward the duo at the door. Wixle lashed out with his torch and the flame of the torch flew out to scorch the first one and it fell the the ground as ash. Skivvy whipped out a bottle of acid and threw it at the next closest one which also collapsed to the ground as its muscles were dissolved into nothing. But the third one slipped through. It reared up to bite Wixle when -BANG! A thunderous crack breaks over the clearing and the 3rd zombie collapses to the ground with a bullet in its skull.
Wixle stared at the shot zombie in horror at just how close he was to being bitten. Even if it didn’t kill him due to blood loss he would almost surely have turned. He looked up to the foreign man who he only just now noticed and gave a shaky wave of acknowledgement. In his gravely voice he thanked the man,
“Many thanks. But that noise will attract more.” As he spoke they all heard the sound of dozens more zombies in the brush. They don’t normally travel in such large groups. Something isn’t right but now isn’t the time. “Don’t worry about them. I have a plan!” Wixle dashed to the edge of the clearing. He cleared his mind and pensioned the entire forest ablaze. He cleared his throat and began to chant a short ritual which brought forth a layer of flammable grease on the plant life in the immediate area ahead of him. Wixle set his torch to the grease and watched as the grease quickly caught flame. This should do the trick! He ran to the opposite side of the clearing and repeated the process then again on the 2 remaining cardinal directions. Within moments the immediate forest was burning furiously and he could hear the groans of zombies as they burned to ash. Yes... Fire... My last friend. He stepped back to the tower and gazed upon the beautiful destruction he had wrought. “Now we just wait out the fire and then we can be on our way.” Skivvy nodded in agreement while the man just stared intently out over the burning forest from his perch.
All was quiet save for the whine of flames until a child's scream pierced the air.
