Squib Ep.33 - Corruption
(Start at the beginning here)
Herule surged forth from the water, a wave of murky filth washing onto the shore along with him. He coughed out a lungful of mud, his tongue wrestling with a twig lodged between his teeth. He’d lost whatever had dragged him under, lost his spear with it, not to mention the party, his sense of direction, and almost all of his wits. It was only by a stroke of luck that he caught sight of the tail end of Squib and Bandana weaving out of view through the distant trees.
‘Wait!” Herule reached with an arm to yell but all that issued forth from his throat was a gush of water. He’d swallowed more than he’d realised during his struggle. ‘Wait for Herule!’ He thought as he dragged himself, exhausted for the moment, further onto land. The dead swarmed, one group ambling in a steady march after Bandana while more moved in their wake to saturate the general area. It only took a few moments for them to grow wise to Herule’s presence and begin lurching over.
He balled a fist and punched the ground, frustration mounting, anger filling him at the folly. He’d never had so many opportunities to care for something outside of his realm, outside of his Lizard kin, but with recent occurrences he was starting to see he his capacity for those outside of his sphere. Not that he harbored any love for Squib, or had strong feelings one way or the other for Bandana, even with Gizelle there’d been a limit, but given each circumstance the truth remained that where these peoples well being was concerned, insofar as Herule was tethered, it was his honor on the line should he fail. That meant he cared a whole lot and his feelings grew thick and tangled in kind.
Now his charge was gone and He left sore and wanting. At least he had Squib’s prize amidst his belongings which meant the Goblin could not run off without him. ‘Herule’s too clever for foolish Goblin,’ Herule thought gleefully to himself while instinctively checking the bundle at his side.
“What?!” Herule patted frantically, checking with his eyes and finding his pouch missing. The line had been severed, not lost, the chords of leather now dangling loosely by his hip. He seethed, fury rising at being both tricked and blind to such an obvious deception. So assured he was in his physical dominance, the question that the Goblin would try such a rash action in his company farthest from his mind. He should have known better, taken more care, checked more frequently, not been the least bit trusting, nor distracted by the injured female.
He rose to his feet, flexed his arms, screeched a rasping, scathing sound at the cloud filled sky. The whiff of something putrid caught his nose and he lashed out with a claw. The throat of a zombie went flying, the force of the blow sending it toppling over. He strode forward, his mind bent on catching his fleeing allies but the undead swarmed into his path. They reached with grasping hands, heaved their swollen bodies forward with arms swung like clubs, grabbed, bit, and careened into one another as they got in Herule’s way. The Lizardman reacted in kind. He dropped his shoulder, checked the first out of the way, reached out with a sharp clawed hand and found his grip tangled in a rib cage, swung wildly throwing the smaller humanoid into another. He darted sideways, weaved through a gap, brought his tail around in a heavy chop that snapped another undead near the middle and left it crawling at an odd angle on the ground.
The commotion drew in more including some of those at the tail end of Bandana’s herd. Herule, that little bit taller, could see the situation growing dire despite his efforts. He cursed, caught a blow on his arm, threw a punch, took another blow on his back, changed his mind about his plan and barreled suddenly sideways. His feet tangled on the legs of another, a crowd of zombies getting caught in the pileup. Arms, legs, and scaled extremities all went down together, but on the part of the Lizardman with some intention. An opening appeared beyond the chaos, an opportunity, and with a feat of athletic strength the Lizardman leaped into it. The land was swarming with undead but the body of water from which Herule came was relatively empty. Even if it weren't, with his powerful tail and natural skill, traversing it gave him an advantage over these land based creatures. Of those things that already dwelt in the watery depths, the rain and murkiness had kept encounters to a bare minimum. There was no more thought needed, the decision obvious. He’d catch up to Squib and Bandana in time but for now he needed to lose the zombie menace. They would simply wash away in the cleansing waters of the swamp, and more importantly off him in spite of their corruption. There came a splash, and Herule disappeared back into the depths, his mind sharp in its course even while his eyes plunged deep into the darkness.
(Continue to Ep.34)
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