Aenar managed to find ray surrounded by zombies. He quickly ran to help her though he knew that her cause was lost. The bonewalkers overpowered her and chewed out her throat before he could even get close. He let out a battle cry and rushed towards the zombies slicing through them cutting them into pieces. When all the undead were finally dead dead he looked down at rays corpse. He sighed and closed her eyes picking a few flowers and placing them around her head.

"Live long in sovengarde." He whispered quietly.

Varth, Imperial City gates

Varth stumbled and fell to the ground, his mind fogging, screams of terror and anguish threating to consume him. He lost his bearings, unsure of where he was at. Using a method of backtracking his master taught him during his times of training, the Dunmer pilgrim began to sift through his memories.

After the guards had helped Varth and Daeldus up, the escorted them, and a column of refugees out of the city. The refugees, numbering around forty or so, and boxed in by Imperial legionnaires and city watch, slogged through the Talos Plaza district, fending off wave after wave of undead. Varth aided the guards by enhancing their combat prowess with his magics, and even participated in holding the line. Once they had reached the main gates, they made a break for it, all madly rushing outside, trying to keep formation. That’s when everything went to hell.

One of the forward guardsmen was heard shouting “mages!” before a bright flash of light followed by an unholy ball of flame appeared. The conflagration engulfed the forward guards, and killed several other soldiers and refugees. The line broken, zombies from inside the city poured out and began tearing the survivors to ribbons. Varth, situated near the front of the column was knocked back by the blast, head spinning.

The Dunmer stood, his head now clear of distractions. Daedalus was next to him, helping others up off the ground. “Look!” screamed a nearby refugee. “The waters of lake Rumare are bristling with them!”

Varth turned his attention to the shores of the lake, and to his horror, saw what the man was indicating. Zombies, hundreds of them, were ascending from the depths of the water, slowly marching up the hill towards their position. [censored].

“Daedalus!” yelled Varth, procuring the Breton’s attention. “We need to get to the bridge! The bridge!” he shouted, indicating the approaching horde. The man got the message, and they began to sprint towards the massive stone bridge that connected the Imperial City to the mainland. The bridge itself was not far from their location, and it was far above the zombie horde situated further down the hill.

They hit the cobbled surface of the bridge running, their lungs sundering under the exertion. The sprint was a taxing yet mentally effortless task, allowing Varth to do some thinking. The zombies obviously reproduced by spreading their disease via close contact, such as through biting, which explains the bonewalker’s numbers, but it did not explain how the dead rose from their graves. The catastrophe itself seemed far too successful to not be a planned occurrence, and the powerful spell cast upon the survivors by supposed “mages” raised suspicions in Varth’s mind. If mages attacked them on the way out, and somehow coordinated a horde to rise from the depths of lake Rumare, why couldn’t they raise zombies from their graves?

A glint of light up ahead- Weye, caught Varth’s attention. Even as it did so, the Dunmer noticed a third man was running with them- a tall imperial. Well, the more the merrier.

Julius Scipion, Weye

Julius Whistled as he wiped his sword inside the deserted Wawnet inn he had barred the door his bag pack lay at his feet containing his maps, a few biscuits and some materials which allowed him to keep his arms and armour in top form, a bottle of Tamika 4E410 was sat next to him half drunk he sighed before pouring another helping into a tiny Clay mug then he heard what sounded like fighting he readied himself before jumping out the door.

Julius stood horrified at the sight he saw his recently polished sword shining hung at his side Hundreds, no thousands of undead crawling into the imperial City he noticed some survivors sprinting down the Bridge he waved at the then gestured at the deserted Wawnet inn he entered it and hoped that the survivors had seen him, he prepared some more mugs in case they had seen him he the stood ready just in case they werent survivours his high elven ears straining to hear anything but his own breathing.

“Daedalus! We need to get to the bridge! The bridge!”

Daedalus understood, to stay in their current position would be suicide. The two broke into a sprint towards their only means of salvation from the thousands of dead slowly inching their way up from the clammy depths of Rumare.

Daedalus was just about running on nothing. The hellish events of the last couple of hours were taking a toll on the young Breton. His head rang like a bell and his feet felt as if they were on fire, but he had to kepp moving. Daedalus had learned in his short time on Nirn, that to give up is to die, and he had no intention of dying today. Daedalus noticed a man, probably an imperial, join their dash towards the bridge. As long as he ain't dead, I'm fine with him.

A waving motion out of the corner of his eye caught Daedalus's attention. An Altmer stood waving his sword in a beckoning motion and ran to an old abandoned building, most likely an inn. Varth also noticed and the elf changed his direction towards the building and the mer.

When they finally made it to the old Inn, the Altmer waited till the trio entered, glanced around and slammed the door behind him. The elf appeared to be reaching middle age. Perhaps 38 or 39, but Daedalus knew that with Altmer looks can be deceiving.

Daedalus slumped up against a wall and slid into a sitting position, panting in exhaustion as the adrenaline slowly crept out of his bloodstream. The Altmer opened his mouth to speak.

Julius Scipion, Weye

He watched as three survivors ran in a Dunmer, Breton and imperial he barred the door behind them before asking “what in oblivion happened?” as well as offering them each a drink of Wine.

After getting back to his feet, Trannigan rushed to get his dropped sword. The little undead girl was already crawling her way quickly to him determined to tern him into a meal. Before she could grab a hold of him he smacked the metal part of his gauntlet across her face and sent her a few inches back. Trannigan then picked up his sword and lunged towards the girl, pinning her down and stabbing downward into one of her eye sockets to finish her off. A pained gargle escaped her lips as what ever was animating her body finally deactivated. The tired Imperial slowly walked back towards the house that he was standing near before and slumped his back against the wall, breathing heavily and trying to calm his nerves.

He waited there for a few minutes before deciding it would be best to get near the guards and find out if they had anything planned out. When he walked into the middle of the village his peripheral vision caught the site of humanoid figures coming across the bridge. Trannigan tuned quickly, expecting the worse from the numerous figures but sighed with relief to see them all walking upright and at a lively pace. The Imperial smiled big and sheathed his sword then marched quickly to the bridge. "More Survivors!" He shouted to the others he traveled with then marched quickly down the bridge and waved his arms at the other survivors. "Hey! Hahaha... Gods am I glad to see that more people managed to make it out of the dying cities!"

Aenar got up and quickly ran out of the city and racked his brain for somewhere to go for sanctuary. He thought as ran and an idea came to him. Weye. He quickly ran in that direction avoiding or killing zombies that got in his way. As it became later in the day he came to a clearing. He sighed and quickly set up a small makeshift camp. He put some dirty water in a pot and began to boil it. He laid back on the ground and sat his sword it lap resting for the next day.

(ooc: wanna meet up here?)

Varth, the Waywent Inn

Varth didn’t remember sliding into the Inn, but he did remember collapsing as soon as he entered the dining room. His head was throbbing with an ungodly amount of pain, and his legs felt as though they had been dipped into a vat of acid.

“What in Oblivion has happened?” Asked a heavily armored man holding a sword.

“What the hell do you think?” gasped Varth inbetween heavy breaths. “Do you not know what has been going on?”

The Altmer just was completely nonplussed by the rude remark and said nothing.

"I'm sorry for my friends harshness," Daedalus chimed in "He's just had an exhausting day...we all have...."

There was another bout of awkward silence which the Breton decided must be broken.

"My names Daedalus, and this," He motioned with a nod of his head towards the dunmer " is Varth. and yes, I could use some wine about now,"

At that moment the imperial suddenly broke his silence.

Gearalt: "There! Near the west gate!"

The Nord lifted a commanding finger in the direction of a small family fleeing for their lives. A mob of bonewalkers closing in.

Gearalt signaled Arturo to follow and give the family a chance for freedom. The leader of the horde outstretched a mutilated hand and grabbed hold of the father's collar, dragging him down to the cold floor. The children screamed as their father fell prey to the monsters. Cries of agony bellowed from the man's throat now torn open. The father gave one final kick into the zombies chest, sending it off of him. Gearalt took this opportunity to finish off the down bonewalker.

Aenar ate a quick meal then set off in his journey towards weye. He climbed a tall tree to get a vantage point over the land around him. He looked around and saw an inn in the distance. He dropped down to the ground and began to sharpen his sword. Aenar had now doubt that he would need it in the bear future.

Once his sword was as sharp as it was when it was first forged he got to his feet gathered his things and walked in the direction of the inn. He was determined to reach the inn before nightfall.

Trannigan stood by as the other people trudged across the bridge and went into Wawnett Inn to figure things out. He quietly walked in himself and listened as a Dunmer and others of various races were discussing something he didn't quite hear. He waited until every one else was finished speaking then said in a relieved voice. "I am glad to see that more living managed to get out of the city alive. Is anyone in your group injured?" He looked around slowly at the others waiting for a response and before anyone did so he took the time to shortly introduce himself. "My name is Trannigan Drattmer. I noticed the chaos while walking from the bridge into the Imperial City some time ago and I feared the worst. It seems things have gotten very grim out there."

"Nothing but a couple of bruises and a damaged psyche, at least for me." Daedalus replied with a grim smile to the tall Imperial who had entered the inn.

The imperial was tall with shoulder length hair a green eyes.

"My names Daedalus. Glad to meet you."

Julius Scipion, Weye

Julius watched the exchange of conversation while sat down he looked around before clearing a table and pulling out a map of cyrodiil and spreading it on the table he mused at it while everyone seemed to be having conversations he spoke to himself “I wonder if Cloud ruler temple has fallen yet” he pulled out a pencil and marked certain locations mainly Legion outposts or Generally secure looking areas.

Aenar arrived at the inn later in the day terribly exhausted from his journey. He walked up to the door a pushed it open to be greeted by the sight of many others crowded into the inn. His hand fell to his sword but he knew that if they wanted to they would easily overpower him.

"Nothing but a couple of bruises and a damaged psyche, at least for me." Answered a short brown haired man of average stature. The man had bright green eyes like Trannigan, and the Imperial saw the same frazzled look looming within his expression. "My names Daedalus. Glad to meet you."

Trannigan walked closer to the man who the Imperial guessed by the look of his rounded ears was likely a Breton, and extended his own hand in a greeting. "It is nice to meet you too Daedalus, it is good that your group seemed to have gotten out of the city unscathed." Trannigan was about to ask the Breton man a few more questions when an Altmer suddenly cleared off the table he was sitting at and pulled out a map, unfurling it upon the table and muttering to himself. “I wonder if Cloud ruler temple has fallen yet...”

Trannigan's curiosity got to him so he gave the Breton a polite smile then strode to where the Altmer sat. taking a seat across from him and casually glancing down at his map. "I have been wondering about the mages guild myself. Even accomplished mages would have a hard struggle against the growing threat out there. Not to mention that even before this chaos there have been rumors that they are beginning to fall apart.."

Just then another man walked through the door. He did not say anything, only looked at the others and slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his weapon. Trannigan glared warily at the man. In calmer times he didn't take kindly to percieved threats, yet he got the bad feeling that even bad individuals might become important to men and mers future safety. Trannigan stood back up and announced that he was going into one of the other rooms to change. With his heavy armor on he was feeling a bit muggy, and since he did not plan on going back into any cities any time soon, he thought it best not to trudge around in his cumbersome yet bite proof armor.

Aenar let his hand drop from his weapon seeing that these men were all truly alive. He leaned against the wall taking a deep breath relaxing. He tried to sink into the back ground not wanting to be pestered with questions.

The Great Forrest, near Weye

“Get up! Hurry!”

The voice was frantic and high pitched, belonging to a young woman. It held a shade of stark terror, her fluid motions painted with the same shade of fear. “Come on!” she said once more as she pulled her companion, a smaller male, to his feet. Together, they began to run once more, dodging inbetween the large trunks of trees of the great forest, the Imperial City burning like a beacon in the night behind them. On they ran, fleeing under the cover of darkness and moonlight, utterly ignorant to the danger they were in.

“Keep going!” the man said as the pair of humans drew closer to their death, lungs laboring as hard as physically allowable. The scent of sweat, grease, and blood radiated off of them like perfume. But best of all was the horror, the fright, the terror. It made killing so much better, so much more pleasurable. The creature that was hidden in the midst of the Great Forest’s upper branches killed for the lords of the coral, but it was driven by the fear that it drank from its victim’s blood. The fear was what it lived for.

“I think we lost them” gasped the woman as she neared an old sapling, her breath failing, a cautious relief filtering into her voice. The only thing you have lost is your mortality.

There was a blur of motion, the upper branches of the sapling shattered under the sudden force, sprinkling down to the forest floor like rain. The humans cried out in surprise, the noise arousing their assailant’s senses. The man leapt inbetween the creature and the woman on pure reflex, his emotional attachment overriding his desire to flee and survive the coming onslaught. A sinewy limb of black, almost resin-like flesh lashed out, forearm sized talons tearing through the man’s pitiful excuse for armor and opened up his chest cavity like a tin can.

He gasped in surprise and his heart was torn asunder, falling to the ground. The horrendous conglomeration of rotted flesh produced a shriek of glee from within its throat, if you could consider it to have a throat, and rushed towards the woman, his blood soaked hand outstretched. The woman moved, faster than expected, a glint of silver sparkling through the night as her blade cut towards the horrid machination of flesh and souls.

The beast was now shrieking in pain, not elation as its outstretched hand was amputated by the woman’s broadsword. Stepping back and preparing for some sort of parry or feint, the woman held her blade high, prepared from some sort of retaliation. The severed hand that lay on the ground began to blister and smoke, quickly dissolving into a black ichor that ran like a small stream back to the form of the creature. With a sickly gesture, the beast absorbed the ichor, his hand reforming as if made from clay.

Terror returned to the woman’s eyes, stronger than before. Her fate was known, now all that was left to the battle was just stepping through the motions. The two beings seemed to stand as still as statues before blurring back into motion, blade and talons vying for purchase. Grotesque tentacles sprouted forth from the creature’s other hand, and wrapped around the woman’s sword-arm. Her weapon arm rendered useless, she struck the beast’s chitinous skull in vain as another flesh-grown tentacle wrapped around her foot, and yanked her to the ground.

Nearly immobile, she threw all of her weight forward, trying to off balance the demon, but ended up slamming into its slimy, half-rotted flesh. The surface of the skin began to bubble and unzip into a large mouth, equipped with sharpened fangs dripping with putrid saliva. She screamed as it enveloped her, crushing he skull and ripping her apart piece by piece.

The beast threw the half eaten corpse to the ground, and went to work drawing the blood from the two new victims. It felt like hours were spent wallowing in their blood, their life’s fluid, their spiritual nectar. It drank and drank, absorbing their fear, anger, and pain. The souls that composed the creature screamed in delight as their hunger was sated.

It truly was not long when the Calling ripped the creature from its meal. The Lords of the Coral wanted him- need him once more. No, not the coral kings; just their bastard slaves. Their mage minions were summoning him, directing him towards a target. It was like a push, a pull, a mental noose that drug him to and fro, to direct him towards the Lord’s will. The Calling tore him from his meal, away from his duty to stop humans from escaping into the forest, and back towards the city. Will I enter the city? Tear down the mortal spell and sword wielders and drink their blood? Will I join my brethren?

The Calling directed him towards a small town, its name once known by one of the souls that inhabited the creature’s being, but was long forgotten. The village, if it could be called that, was but a small smattering of hovels around the bridge to the Imperial City. The Calling pointed towards one of the larger structures, a place of rest and recovery for mortals. Those inside were his target. With a feral hiss, the beast followed his master’s bidding, hiding in the darkest recesses of the treeline, waiting for the humans to leave, waiting for them to make a mistake.

OOC: You wanted a boss fight lets get all the politics straitened out in the Inn before we take this shape-shifting zombie alien thing on.

Gearalt did not take the time to see what Arturo would do and hastily acted. He scooped up the children and the wife of the now deceased father and made a break for the wooden city gate.

Gearalt: "Guh!"

The sudden intensity of the situation had caused the Nord to stumble and he spilled onto the floor. The family hung on to dear life. The sound of plated steel crashing onto the stone ground rang like a dinner bell to the horde of the living dead. Gearalt pulled himself up and made a second flight to the doorway to freedom. Bonewalkers fueled by hunger quickly turned their attention to Gearalt and followed.

Gearalt (panicked): "Open the damned gates!"

He screamed at the top of his lungs. The guardsmen on the other side opened the bulky wooden door; just wide enough for the Nord to slip through. Gearalt fell to the ground exhausted but relieved he gave three people a chance to see tomorrow. Gearalt looked around and saw no sign of Arturo. He got up and walked over to a guard.

Gearalt: "There is someone still in there. You may know him as one of your arena gladiators, Arturo Leonde. Makes sure he gets out alive. Tell him I'll wait for him at Weye."

The Nord then bid farewell to the children and made his way to the Wawnet Inn. Inside, he saw a large group of adventurers.

Gearalt: "Lovely evening, eh?"

Aenar raised an amused eyebrow and the man who had just entered and chuckled to himself mumbling "Yes a very nice evening indeed." He shook his head smiling and examined the men in the room. He was sure that each of these men could handle themselves in a fight. As he studied them he found himself wondering what they were doing before all of this.

Gearalt walked further into the refuge, squeezing his way past the mass of bodies compacted into the room. He luckily found a spot next to the fireplace and took a seat on the floor.

Gearalt: "When will these bastards just go away? I pray to Shor my mother is safe. It's been five months since I've last sent a letter to her."

The Nord laid his claymore out in front of him and examined it closely, trying to forget the mutilated souls wallowing in their despair outside the threshold of the inn. He was trained by the fighters guild not to show fear or worry. However, these taboo emotions built up like a ball of snow in his desolate stomach and melted out of his large blue eyes.

Gearalt: "So...how have my fellow peers fared in these troubled times?"

He shouted loudly has to drown out his tears. He put on a tough facade. Gearalt wasn't about to weep in front of this gaggle of strangers.

"So...how have my fellow peers fared in these troubled times?"

Daedalus looked up over to the large man sitting by the hearth. He had a look of brokenness to him. Despite this the Breton also noticed determination and will in the Nord's eyes and knew at that moment that this man was a determined fighter and could be a loyal companion. Perhaps he can teach me how to wield a blade efficiently Daedalus mused. Since the beginning of the epidemic, he regretted not knowing how to properly wield a weapon with some length to it. His dagger Snake Tongue had saved his life countless times, but it proved inefficient in fighting these monsters, as he had to get close to attack with it.

"We'll we're all alive, so I guess that makes us somewhat lucky." Daedalus responded.

Daedalus: "We'll we're all alive, so I guess that makes us somewhat lucky."

Gearalt: "That's great to hear Manmer. I'm willing to wager a legion of those bony monsters fell to your sword. I should probably introduce myself to you fine gentlemen...and lady-gentlemen. My name is Gearalt the Valiant. I hail from the tiny town of Snowhawk in the north. The Fighters Guild prepared me well as I've been alive up until this point. And I intend to stay that way. Unless of course you need an able man to aid you in battle or your escape, then I'll be that Nord."

Gearalt got up and weaved his way to the mead rack and took a bottle. He reached into his coin purse and slapped ten drakes onto the table.

Gearalt: "It may be a crisis but I wont be looting none if it can't be helped."

He uncorked the mead bottle and deluged his anxiety away.

Trannigan returned many moments later after he gotten himself straightened out and came back to find that quite a bit more people had arrived at the Inn now. He gave a greeting to the newcomers then went to one of the corners of the room and leaned against the wall. He didn't really feel like communicating at the moment, though he supposed that if someone did come to chat with him he wouldn't act unfriendly to them. After all, talking seemed to calm some people's nerves.

He then quietly walked to the Inn door and slipped out, parking himself on the side of the building to help keep watch for either more living people, or gods forbid any other dangers they might have to face.

(Haha figured I'd park him out there for when ever you decide to take him out AS.)

Aenar watched the Imperial man walk outside and he looked around quietly at the mass of bodies around him. He looked again towards the door and quietly walked out to talk the Imperial.

"Hello there friend." He called out to the man and leaned against the wall beside the door.