"Ugh…my head." Word down the grapevine said there were monsters running amok on the continent. Normally he'd ask his mom since she'd be the first to know, but she had suddenly disappeared. His brother said she was ok, she told him so. Cyril said something about talking with her in his sleep, which didn't make a lot of sense. He could be right, though. His twin was a little out there, but lying wasn't something he was good at. And he should know, being the de facto expert in misdirection out of the two of them. The atmosphere was giving him the creeps long before the island was in sight. Somewhere along the line, the sky was turning a nauseous shade of green. "We're sailing in the right direction alright–my head is killing me!" That ringing in his ears was annoying at first, and he tried plugging them with cotton. It didn't work, and he tried all sorts of things to make it stop. But as they drew closer, it only grew persistently worse. 

The tall spire signifying the isle appeared through the sickly fog, and it was dusky here despite having departed well before noon. Just thinking about where they were going gave him goosebumps. Not that he'd admit it while his brother was within earshot. Everybody else wasn't feeling their best either thanks to their newly acquired headaches. Keeping quiet was a way to prevent tempers from flaring and having a fallout before they made landfall. Leaning on the railing, Belen turned to look at his younger twin Cyril who had his back against the main mast. For some reason, he looked perfectly fine. His face didn't look any different from usual, no squinting, no stiffness, no signs of pain. How? There he was, sitting calmly on the floor staring straight ahead. 

Tiptoeing over, the brunet whispered to him. "Hey…Cyril." No response. "Cyril! Oy!" He waved a hand in front of his brother's face, and nothing happened. Leaning closer, Bel noticed he was breathing rather slowly. "Huh. I can't believe it–my little brother fell asleep with his eyes open." No wonder he wasn't reacting to the ringing everybody was suffering from. 

Sir Isaac grunts. Being on a boat already rendered him sea sick, so the additional ringing in his ears only made things worse. And that was saying something, considering just how sea sick he was.

But, Sir Isaac had a mission, and he intended to see it through. The posters said there were monsters afoot, foul ones that had to be vanquished. There had been monsters sightings all over the continent, apparently, but Sir Isaac had chosen Tyr. The island was already haunted by the undead, and the new threat was probably also undead. His cup of tea. He hadn't done a thorough search of the others on the ship yet, but he was pretty sure that he was the only paladin around. None other than him was wearing armour as shiny, certainly.

Sir Isaac proudly twirls his moustache while looking around the ship at the other passengers. Then the ship rocks on the waves and his stomach churns again, forcing Sir Isaac to immediately keel over.

The ship nurse, a lovely lady in her mid-twenties and a pure-blooded human of these eastern isles, quickly approaches Sir Isaac with another cup of water with some herbs inside them. Sir Isaac accepts them and drinks the whole cup in one go, knowing how it had helped him for a while the last few times.

"You should not keep armour on, Isaac-sama. Weight moves you around more, makes waves worse on your health." She says in her broken Adelunian, with the same concerned yet strict tone she had taken with him ever since he got on the ship. "Take off, put back on once at Tyr. You not worry, yokai hate salt. Will not swim through sea or stand close to shore. You safe, unless they throw rocks. Then armour won't help anyway. You sink like rock, you drown like rock."

Sir Isaac nods to her, thankful but not inclined to comply with her request. The nurse smiles at him in a conflicted way, clearly wanting to lecture him more until he does as she says and stops torturing himself, but at the same time opposed to telling a warrior above her standing what to do. It was a noble intend that she had, she clearly hated the sight of anyone suffering for any reason. But, none could solve all the problems in the world. She just glances down and walks away, making rounds to check up on all the other passengers and the sailors.

Both the nurse and Sir Isaac look up alarmed when a somewhat worried voice suddenly rises. Sir Isaac smiles when he sees that the worried lad finds out that his brother didn't react because he had fallen asleep. If only that were an option for him as well, Sir Isaac would've gladly slept though the sea sickness and the damned ringing. The nurse stands still and fidgets with her fingers, not sure whether she should approach the two boys or leave them be. The decision is made for her when another passenger beckons her, demanding a fix for the ringing. She could only nod and bring some aspirin bark solution in water, which barely helped against the supernatural ringing.

Sir Isaac looks at the island in the distance. They were getting closer, and would soon be upon the island of the dead. The ringing would only get worse, but at least the sea sickness would fade.

[OOC: I'm going to be alternating with these two from now on! Hope you don't mind.]

Suddenly the ship started rocking violently! The force of the sudden swinging from side to side was enough to shake Cyril awake. The crew was shouting, holding onto whatever they could as the ship veered sharply, narrowly missing a direct hit from something. A large spray of salt water splashed onto the deck, and he rubbed his eyes to see the water's surface fall. "All hands on deck! Keep yourselves secured, we're about to make landfall!" The gloomy island was clear ahead, and more shouts rang out in panic as another incoming projectile was headed their way. A large rock the size of a wagon was hurtling through the sky. One hit from that, and the ship could go under. "Cyril–barrier, now!" His brother shouted. At once he scrambled to his feet and focused his power to form a protective barrier over as much of the ship as possible.

His brother then quickly cast a spell, a glyph appearing in the air before the incoming chunk of stone. A powerful blast shook the skies as it was blown apart, raining down smaller harmless fragments onto the ship. His brother slumped against a wall with a heavy sigh of relief. "Where did that come from?" He asked. Belen shrugged. "I dunno. But I'm pretty sure it didn't just happen to fly in our direction. Did you see the size of that thing?!" Concerned Cyril leaned on the wall next to his twin. "Do you think we should go back?" His brother thought for a bit, then shook his head. "…Nah. We already came all this way. It'd be a real let-down to turn around and sail back without checking the place out."

"Yeah, I guess." He replied, staring out at the patch of land steadily growing larger in their sights. "Did you have a good nap?" His brother elbowed him, with a smirk. Cyril looked back in surprise. "How'd you know?" Bel ruffled his hair grinning, "When I called you didn't say anything, you goofball. Well at least you woke up in time for our arrival. We're going to need to stay on our toes from now on." After a little chit chat, Belen went to climb up the crow's nest to get a better vantage point on any more flying debris that wanted to sink their ship. Before leaving he told him to use a barrier again as soon as he gave the signal. Now by himself, Cyril wandered around the deck to see if anything was happening. There was this sort of annoying buzzing sound in his ears that he didn't remember having before, and tried cleaning his ears. On his self-tour of the ship, he noticed everybody was suffering a bad headache. 

Maybe it was the air here? But there wasn't any stench or swamp smell that normally accompanied malignant air. There was a strong sense of magic hanging around the island that was spreading out into the surrounding ocean, something that he hadn't felt before. Rolling up his sleeve, he saw goosebumps on his forearm. It probably wasn't anything peaceful, judging by its effects on everyone. With great difficulty, the shoreline of Tyr came into view. There was an old dock that might have seen ships from around the world in the distant past, but now left as a solemn greeting to people like them. The barrage of rubble stopped once they were within a few meters of anchoring, which seemed to be good.  He waited patiently for his brother to descend the main mast as the sailors began preparing to anchor.

"Well, here we are. I still think ye folks are bloomin' mad askin' me to sail out ta' place like this, but I'll keep the Waveskimmer docked 'til ye get back from gallivantin' on this piece of gods-forsaken dirt." The captain spat into the sea, grumbling before walking away.

Suddenly the ship started rocking violently! And so did Sir Isaac's stomach. He immediately buckles over while his sight is nearly taken from him by black spots. He can only barely grab on to the railing of the ship with one arm, leaning heavily against it to prevent being tossed off the ship. Lots of salt water erupt very near him, completely drenching Sir Isaac. Unable to straighten himself with his stomach in a knot like this, Sir Isaac just keeps holding on to the railing for dear life while keeled over and trying to keep himself from losing his senses.

A large explosion broke apart the sky above him, for reasons completely unknown to Sir Isaac. Had it happened in in the three or four planks that were underneath his feet, then he could've told you in great detail what just happened. But something that required looking up? Not right now. Little pebbles of stone fall from the sky and plink! plink! plink! on Sir Isaac's armour without leaving any damage. He was sure there was a good explanation for that, but it was of lesser concern right now.

Nothing happened for the next few minutes, and Sir Isaac's sea sickness slowly subsides to its regular degree of awfulness. As he looks up, he sees the people walk around a bit more anxiously but not too angry or afraid. It didn't seem like anyone was lost to the sea or got killed in another fashion. Good. If there were none injured or otherwise harmed, Sir Isaac could focus on their nigh arrival to the haunted island of Tyr.

Finally, they arrived and anchored. The captain seemed wary and annoyed that anyone would come near this damned place, and looked at all the mercenaries and adventurers with a sour expression. "Well, here we are. I still think ye folks are bloomin' mad askin' me to sail out ta' place like this, but-"

It might be very unbecoming and perhaps even downright rude, but Sir Isaac doesn't wait for the captain to finish his speech and jumps off the ship. Falling to his knees, he kisses the sweet sweet stability of solid ground. Finally, the rocking and bobbing had stopped!

Letting his stomach recover for a while, Sir Isaac sits on the docks while the rest of the people slowly gather their stuff and debark. As he was carrying everything he needed and was already in gear, Sir Isaac required to do no such thing. Once all the non-crew left the ship, he gets up and approaches the nearest group.

"We are at Tyr at last! Now, let us go out and find this fiendish foe that threatens the ships that sail near this already damnable island! No need to worry, for I, Sir Isaac Bar- Oh, you have no need of my assistance? Well, I understand that knowing and trusting each other is important for a group, but I am a palad- Of course, that's completely reasonable. No, that's okay. You just… And you're already walking away."

"Rejoice, good man! For I, Sir Isaac Bartholo-" Sir Isaac says with a big confident smile as he turns to the second group of mercenaries. His words fade away into a whisper though, flat-out ignored by the gruff mercenaries that rudely turn around and walk away without even acknowledging Sir Isaac's presence. Just like the first group of mercenaries they walk down the shore, probably with the intend to circle around the island. A sound strategy, to keep the sea at your backs so that you only had to watch for enemies from one side. These brave non-descript men were certainly not so out of their league that they'd quickly die off-screen, not with such sharp wits.

With the first two groups departing though, Sir Isaac is standing there by his lonesome. Looking around, he sees the third and final group descend from the ship. Aha, now it made sense! Certainly they knew that Sir Isaac was a reliable and responsible paladin, so it was only natural that he would be pared with the young lads. Of course, how silly of him to not realise that sooner! He'd keep them save, so that the other two groups didn't have to worry with heavy hearts about these underaged boys and their well-being.

Confidently, Sir Isaac strides towards the two boys and twirls his moustache around his finger. "Greetings! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope that we shall get to know each other better in the adventure to come! My name is Sir Knight Isaac Bartholomew Casnothal the Second of house Casnothal, but you may call me Sir Isaac. Perhaps you've heard of me, the mighty Moustache Knight? Anywho, enough about me. Who are you two?" Sir Isaac smiles and extends his armoured glove out to the pair for a handshake.

"Man am I happy to be on solid ground again." Stretching his arms behind his back, Belen was feeling less nauseous now that they were off the ship. Unfortunately that was replaced by a worse headache than when they were at sea. As soon as they got off, it decided to up the ante and move from ringing to persistent buzzing. He and his brother were taking their sweet time regaining their footing while everybody else was busy to find the source of the rumors and get this over with. He couldn't blame them–anything that gave you migraines through being in its proximity was a real pain in the neck. While keeping an eye on his twin, one of the people first off the ship came up to them. Oh yeah, he remembered this guy. In the first leg of the trip he was pretty chatty, trying to strike up conversation with just about anybody. He had full armor, so he probably was a knight or something. He piped down once the seasickness hit, like it did for most people. 

Nudging his brother to pay attention, the metal-clad dandy marched up to them with gusto. Boy, this guy sure was something else. Right off the bat he unloaded a full speech as an introduction, and when he started giving his name Belen only caught the first five things in the chain of words. As this very verbosely wordy man kept talking, he raised his eyebrows and nodded understandingly–while trying to catch up with what was being thrown at him. Sweet stars, that was a lot of words to keep up with. "Perhaps you've heard of me, the mighty Moustache Knight?"The man asked, curling his finger around the edge of his aforementioned mustache. As Belen opened his mouth to answer, the man thrust his hand towards them as if asking for a handshake. "Sure…yeah. Nice meeting you too, Sir Knight Bartholomew." There was no way he was going to list the rest of that jumble of words.

Taking the man's hand, he pointed at himself and his twin. "He's Cyril, I'm Belen. We're twins, if that isn't obvious already." Looking at them side-by-side, they were in fact identical, save for their hair and eye color. "My brother doesn't talk much." Cyril waved smiling. "Anyway, we should probably start looking around. I don't think I'd want to be on the island when night falls. Everybody else's working on finding the thing that tried to sink us earlier, or treasure. There's rumors of some giant that appears after dark from what the bounty posters said."

"Cyril and Belen!" Sir Isaac repeats after the boy, leaving his voice trail of for a moment to give either boy the chance to give their last name as well. But they didn't, and it didn't matter. The chances that he would know it were slim, for there was no chance of such boys who had to go on such perilous adventures at their young age would be of noble descend. Sir Isaac's heart bled for their financial strife, which forced them into such a dangerous profession at their age. "How quaint to make your acquaintance, and I hope that we will all make it through this ordeal healthy and well. I certainly will try to keep you lads safe, don't you worry."

Sir Isaac throws the two boys a wink with his irresistible charm, one which always calmed the people down and replaced their fear with hope and laughter. Well, smiles and snickering usually, but that was also a positive effect. He looks at the light-haired silent one of the twins for a moment, just in case he wants to say something too, and then looks up at the mainland.

"Very well! That makes sense, I suppose. Our quarry shall appear some time at night, therefore we should try to find this other threat that attacked the ship prior to nightfall. And as you can see, our honourable compatriots in arms have already volunteered to scout the two sides of the coast line. In consideration for you two, I suppose, as the ones who manned the catapults and attacked the ships are bound to be somewhere near the water. Yes, while they bravely take the more dangerous routes, it will certainly be safer for our party venturing inland!"

Sir Isaac confidently begins walking forwards, towards the spire of the island and the many shadowed ruins of the long since abandoned city before them. They need not worry, for the undead had apparently all left for the centre of the island. And even if there were a few stragglers left, he was certain that he could keep the boys safe from harm.

Once he was sure that neither lad could see his face however, Sir Isaac turns serious. The undead didn't worry him, he could smite those. The rumours he had heard however, those were more troublesome. Rumours spoke of the guild masters of Railoch and the city lords of Komiteia preparing for a full-fledged invasion of Tyr, both planning to take full advantage from this sudden disappearance of the regular undead. Both planning to quickly set up a landing site on the shores and fortify their positions, before the undead would once again come for them in endless hordes. And if the island was truly this deserted, both sides would only have the other to fight.

Sir Isaac glances at the two boys. They weren't halflings, surely. But were they perhaps working for either side? If so, the other side might attempt to deal with these scouts before they could report back. And even if they weren't, those assassins might try to kill them all just to be safe. Either side could've been a fellow passenger of their ship, or perhaps they were already on the island. And as much as one should fear the undead, Sir Isaac feared the relentless cruelty and dishonourable tactics of a patriotic rogue more.

But, those were nothing but baseless rumours. Perhaps it was mere conjecture, or a trick of either nation to coax the other to invade Tyr and solve that necrotic problem for them. Yes, that was always an option too. The chance that this island was about to become the battlefield of a new war, a price domain that they would shed much blood over, was but a small one. Sir Isaac shouldn't be so pessimistic, not in such already grim times.

Sir Isaac looks around, seeing nothing yet but having a strange sensation of something watching them. Just his nerves, perhaps. And the ringing didn't help either.

Cyril watched as his brother smiled and nodded, like he usually did when meeting people he didn't immediately get along with. The silver-haired boy didn't mind the man's quirks, and continued to listen as his brother handled the talking. This Mister Bartholomew was very friendly, unlike everybody else who wanted to come to the island. It was a good thing he was coming with them. So far the others were more interested in staying close to the coastline, so that meant the center was where they might find clues. Being a folklorist he was mentally combing through memories of creatures and tales to find something that would match what they read from the bounty posters. In the end, they would have to do a stakeout to catch a glimpse of their target. When the knight mentioned catapults, he was surprised. "You really think catapults threw the rocks at us sir? They must be very big ones to do that! But even then, catapults can't throw something like that too far. It'd be too heavy, right?" 

The only catapults he knew that might be strong enough to do so were the ones his mother made; at least that's what he thought. Throwing something so big–like a wagon–would make a wooden machine break. They started their trek inward, surveying the ruins of a once grand civilization. He took in the sights of the architecture, the remaining artwork, and the way the abandoned city was laid out. Most of the artifacts were long gone, leaving him little to analyze. Cyril wondered what kind of place Tyr was before it all fell. He noticed his brother wasn't feeling too well despite trying to keep a smile on his face. He could tell if Bel wasn't well; they were twins after all. The place did feel truly deserted as they saw no signs of the rumored undead. While most were happy they weren't present, his mind had one question. Where could they have gone? 

"It's getting louder…" He said, noting the ringing increasing its volume and intensity. Staring towards the direction of the great spire, his gaze was fixated. "Do you think we're close?" His older brother asked. "I don't know. But something big is here. I can't sense anything else on the island besides you, Sir Bartholomew, and it." Where was it? Turning away, he began poking his head into one of the ruined hovels. "We should be fine out here. It probably won't show up until nighttime." His twin grimaced at the thought, not too keen on the idea of going out at that hour. "Oh, great…"

"Well, of course it had to be catapults, Cybil my boy!" Sir Isaac said. "We know that something has been attacking any ships coming too near, with too much accuracy to be a coincidence. And by the same logic that no catapult could throw such heavy rocks so far, no other means should be able to withstand that same force. Meaning that either the force isn't too great, or there's some way around the problem. And that solution may just as easily be applied to the catapult, for it's the construction that allows humans to throw rocks the farthest. To assume it would be anything else, say a really big person, would only be a more farfetched alternative to a fortified catapult. Therefore, we may assume it's catapults until we find proof of it being anything else."

Sir Isaac smiles and continues wandering while trying to find any sign of life or unlife. But the fallen civilisation was devoid of either, with the exception of their little group. There were some insects here and there, but even rats and birds seemed to have left this place. Sir Isaac could understand why, if they too were troubled by the ringing. It wasn't just always there, it was also getting worse over time. His forever jolly mood was dampening, the ringing causing him to get more and more vexed about this whole operation and the complete lack of anything to fight. The unbleached twin seemed to feel the same, he wasn't feeling too well. But, he didn't think that their group had any individual who'd shed blood over some discomfort and annoyance, so it was all good.

"It's getting louder…" "Do you think we're close?" "I don't know. But something big is here. I can't sense anything else on the island besides you, Sir Bartholomew, and it."

"You don't sense anything else, lad? With what kind of detection? And what kind of range?" Sir Isaac asks warily. Perhaps it was just something with a limited range that couldn't pick up soulless undead. But Cybil was sensing something, which could be real close depending on his range. "And when you say there's nothing else but us, does that include the ship crew? Or have we since put too much distance between ourselves and them?"

Sir Isaac looks around, seeing only the ruins of what were once simple houses and shops. The defensive value was negligible, especially in their current state. There was a much bigger and stronger building a few blocks back, but it was too fortified. Even if the liches that roam these parts disappeared, the traps and defensive mechanisms they probably riddled this city with would remain. No, picking out the best defendable building was a bad idea around these parts.

"If we need to find some place to camp until nightfall, I'd suggest we pick up the pace and reach the city walls. If this city was once like any other human city, it will have towers and several rooms specifically made for soldiers to rest and stand vigilant. Even if the structure has since collapsed here and there, it would give us a significant advantage with minimal chances of running into traps." Sir Isaac says, looking at the spire in the distance. "Not to mention, it will give us one direction into clear wilds and another into a city scape. We take the wilds if this creature is a stealthy one that takes advantage of this chaotic environment, and seek out the city if the creature is a raw force that requires us to hide."

Walking another block, Sir Isaac sees some movement at last. The zombie was clawing and moaning, completely unaware of them. A lot of rubble was piled up on his legs, including a large support beam that pinned him down. The bloody marks and swipes on the ground before him and the boney remnants of his fingers made it clear that this zombie had been trying to crawl his way out from under the rubble for a long time now, without avail.

Sir Isaac studies the zombie and takes out his sword. He pokes the zombie in the head, and it looks over. The ravenous eyes of the undead meet his, and the zombie snarls. Before it can even try to grab Sir Isaac however, its eyes glace over again and it continues trying to crawl towards the spire. Sir Isaac looks at the strange sight and sheathes his sword again.

"Well, that's something. I think we can make that support beam topple if we remove the stones there and there, thus freeing this zombie. From the looks of it, he'll lead us straight to whereever the other undead went. But, that's not just my decision to make. What do you young lads think? Do we want to set up camp and stake out the place for the new monster, or shall we follow this little critter?"

The headache was making it harder and harder for him to focus on anything else. Belen was feeling envious of his twin right now; he was holding up just fine. When the knight asked his brother for a more specific explanation, he was rubbing his temples. "It's near the center, a very large and powerful presence. Very hard to ignore, and it's probably blocking out everything else that could be here." When the man asked for clarification, Cyril added: "Oh, I mean just on the island around where we are right now. Everybody else is too far away, and I can't pick up weaker signatures with the big one this strong." While the others went to investigate the area, he was standing in the open wondering when this migraine would pack up and leave.

He was nodding in agreement with whatever Mister Moustache was saying, just to prevent himself from straining his brain more. They kept looking around until the man stumbled upon one of the elusive undead that had cleared out when this all went down. Peering at a safe distance from behind the knight, Belen made a face at the mindless corpse. Cyril was staring at it thoughtfully, as if it was important. Sir Bart–a mental nickname he'd given the knight to shorten the effort to address him–poked the zombie which growled at him, but ignored him moment after. Weird. Zombies typically were in attack-mode all the time, going after anything that had a pulse. They didn't have the brains–pun intended–to ignore a warm body walking up to it.

"I think we can make that support beam topple if we remove the stones there an there, thus freeing this zombie." He wasn't liking the sound of this idea already. "What do you young lads think?" The ball was thrown back to them, and he looked at Cyril. "Well…" "Ok! We can move them real quick!" Belen paused. "We…what?" His twin looked back at him with those dearly innocent shining eyes of his, and his heart plummeted like a rock into his stomach. "Oh no–I am not letting that crawler get a leg up on chewing me!" Nope, no, nuh-uh. No way in the Circles was he going to put himself in a situation for a zombie to attack him. "I'll put up a barrier?" Cyril said, attempting to bargain with him. He frowned. "Please?" He closed his eyes and stuck his fingers in his ears.

A few minutes of silence followed, then he caved. The next moment all three of them were inside a protective barrier while Belen cast a spell on the rubble. Glyphs shimmered in the air as the stones keeping the zombie pinned came to life, and gained limbs. A chunk of marble opened its 'eyes' and blinked before leaping up screaming: "I'm FREEEE!!!!" It skittered off to parts unknown, and the support beam fell flat without anything to prop it up.

Strange runes suddenly appeared in the air around Sir Isaac, something that might've been a cage or trap if it weren't for the positive energy that it radiated. The rubble that pinned down the zombie began to shake and turned into a stone golem. As it jubilated its sudden self-awareness and ability to move around, Sir Isaac can only stare at it dumbfounded. The golem turns into the direction that they had come from, and walks off. The glyphs slowly fade away, and Sir Isaac steps out of the protective barrier.

"Well, uhm… Good job. We could've just kicked the one rock and pulled the other out, but this works too I suppose." He says, looking at the golem that was still headed straight for the sea. He then turns to the zombie, that had immediately began crawling towards the spire once it was released. "See, what did I tell you? If a zombie doesn't care for you, it won't care for you at all. They're simple abominations, only capable of two or three tasks at most. If any one task takes priority to their unquenchable hunger for those that live, then they won't even give you a second glance."

"Some kind of command undead, probably. Quite impressive, for it to work from such a distance and with such vast numbers of undead. But nefarious nonetheless, and in need of vanquishing." Sir Isaac says, casually strolling after the crawling zombie. It was a shame that it wasn't even as fast as a regular zombie, but moving slowly did have it perks. Less possibilities for ambushes to take them unaware, assuming one of them would scout ahead properly.

Following the zombie through the city and into the barren farmlands beyond, Sir Isaac and the two lads continue their journey. It was not without its perils, but the problems they faced were not of the serious kind, nor the sort that one would boast about.

"Urgh, I hate escort missions." Sir Isaac grumbles as he pulls the zombie out of the quicksand before it can complete consume him. The zombie snarls and tries to scratch Sir Isaac, but completely forgets about him again once Sir Isaac throws him over the sand. Crawling on as if nothing had happened, the zombie continues while the group tries to circumvent the treacherous environment. Sir Isaac knew that it was a mindless being, but it was still too careless. Because quicksand and the swamps, sure. People lost their lives to those areas too. But it required a special kind of stupid to crawl straight into a rabbit hole and get stuck in there. "From all the zombies we could've followed, it had to be the dim-witted uncle."

With his mood lowering with every mile that they travelled and every decibel that the ringing got louder, Sir Isaac's smile is soon gone. Grumpy and not engaging in any further pleasantries with his travelling companions, he just keeps his eyes on the zombie and the looming spire that was getting ever bigger.

"I'd say that dusk is about to reach us, boys. So, what will it be? Shall we continue following our guide, or string him up and make camp?"