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Thanks for the view! This time I'm writing once more of the Undead of the Second Age, but in this entry we'll be seeing them from the perspective of an outsider, someone who hasn't been exposed to the true world of the Undead and still thinks of them in a traditional stereotypical sense. The man is Feren Oakroot, a Wood Elf, who happens to be heading home from a tavern quite late at night when he learns that a rumor he thought was just an urban legend was, in fact, quite true. He finds that the Undead known as Death Knights, skeletal horsemen atop equally skeletal steeds DO exist. The reader may consider this harsh revelation a severe lesson about why he should keep his promises to his wife.




Feren Oakroot left the smoky air of the Clover Keg and made his way into the night air. It was a cool night, cloudless, revealing a starry sky. As he made his way onto the dirt road Feren heard only the sound of crickets. He knew this calm wouldn't last, as he was meant to be home hours earlier and his wife was sure to be worried.
'Let her worry,' thought Feren, 'I'm damn well entitled to have all the fun I want.' He kicked a pebble down the street and laughed to himself, still a bit tipsy from the drinks. Once the laughter faded, Feren began to hum to himself as he casually strolled home, unconcerned with his wife's worrying. He would think up some excuse for the delay by the time he'd reached home. After all, he had quite a stretch of road to travel yet. Suddenly, his elven ears picked up something strange. The crickets had stopped chirping. As Feren glanced around he couldn't help but take note of a few birds hastily leaving the nearby trees.

He came then to a crossroads, the same he'd passed many times before, and then he heard it. From down the path heading in from the long farmlands of Palt came the cries of an ungodly beast, an echoing neigh that lingered in the air long after it was uttered. Feren's eyes went wide and his hands began to shake as the sounds of bony hooves approached at a speed no normal horse could travel. Off in the distance he could see what looked like two small lights next to one another approaching rapidly. Feren began to panic. He had heard the rumors before, horrible stories of skeletal riders patrolling the farmlands, of beheaded soldiers found on the roads by morning and of the dead speeding along the highways at night. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest, and he could no longer distinguish between it and the sounds of the approaching steed. His mind told him to run, but his body was firmly frozen in place. Before long, the rider came into view. He, like his steed, was completely skeletal! He wore old platemail with a horned helm, a long saber in one hand. The lights Feren had seen down the road were the eyes of the rider, two small ghostly yellow flames that seemed to act as pupils. As the rider approached, the flames moved inside the bony sockets to spot Feren. The horse slowed as it approached the crossroads, and, once it had strode over to Feren himself, it came to a complete stop. The rider leaned down and brought his face a mere two feet away from Feren's.
"Cothos..." was all the rider said, his voice sounding like a raspy echo from inside the skull. The rider seemed to be smiling, almost as though he were pleased by the reaction he was getting. Feren raised one shaky hand and pointed down the path that led to the town of Cothos, his eyes wide and unblinking and his mouth quivering and silent. The rider's grin seemed to widen. He nodded once and flicked something small at Feren. He flinched, not knowing what the rider had tossed at him. The rider then sped off down the road toward Cothos for whatever business he had there. After staring after the rider for what seemed to be an eternity, Feren finally looked down at the object lying on the ground. It was a gold piece, payment from the rider for Feren's help. Feren left the piece where it was, not certain it wasn't cursed, and ran screaming toward his home, to his wife. Feren knew he would never again be doing any late-night partying.




This concludes the second snippet of what I hope will be many more. I hope you enjoyed it, I enjoyed writing it! For those wondering, no, the piece was not cursed. As I write it, Undead are misunderstood creatures who are not much different than any other race. In my last chapter I showed some examples of this, and I most likely will show more over time. The rider, in this case, was merely being gracious. As for the 'beheaded soldiers', there WERE a few cases of such things, but they were not unprovoked. The Undead, like elves, humans or anyone else, send patrols to ensure the security of their lands and people, and they will act with force if they deem it necessary. Please leave any comments or questions in the comments section here, on my profile or over PM! Thanks again, everyone!

This is something I'm going to start doing periodically. I'm going to submit snippets of my novels as Journal entries to try to expose a little more of my work to a smaller audience. Comments are VERY welcome, by the way. I hope you all enjoy. In this particular piece I give you a look at some of the interaction between the Joseph, former-human-king-turned-zombie (but still rather good looking) and Rautar, the black-boned less-than-civil skeletal mage, as well as some lesser Undead characters.



Leira opened the door slowly, wishing Joseph could stay longer. The longing in his eyes told her Joseph wished the same. Standing in the doorway, they embraced each other as she stood on her toes to kiss him gently.
"Come back safe, love." the beautiful blonde elven maiden cooed in his ear. Joseph nodded, his face wearing a crooked smile. Rautar stood in the hall, watching the two and waiting for his friend. Leira gave him a friendly wave.
"Hello Rautar!" she called, and turned to head back into her room. Rautar returned the wave and tilted his head to study the fine curves of Leira's backside as she went inside. As the door closed his head snapped back up, and he looked to Joseph, throwing his arms open in an inquisitive gesture.
"Did she ******** ya?!" he asked excitedly. Joseph's eyes went wide, his jaw dropping immediately at the sheer audacity of the question.
"WHAT?!" he asked in disbelief.
"Ah, forget it, you're no fun." Rautar muttered and followed Joseph as he started down the necropolis hall to the stables. "So, what's the story tonight? Why are we stuck on patrol? We being punished for something?"
"No, nothing like that. There's just been some heavy activity near the woods lately, living folks, human of course. Boss wants some of us big dogs looking after the more green soldiers. A couple of our skeletons didn't come home yesterday, Corell and Wallins. Found them with skulls crushed this morning, and the arrows stuck in their shields were human variety." Joseph explained.
"What, did they piss 'em off?" asked Rautar, flexing his fingerbones, warming them up for spellcasting.
"Nah, I've done patrol with those two before, nice guys. Not the type to start brawls. What with all the demon activity lately the live-humans are getting a bit jumpy. You know how it is, the s**t hits the fan and the Undead are always the first blamed. In any case, it's a damn shame to lose those two guys." Joseph said shaking his head. As the two entered the stables they heard the echoing neighs of the nightmares, the skeletal horses. As they mounted their steeds they were joined by two skeletal archers and a half-rotten zombie in chainmail wielding a claymore. Their patrol put together, the five headed off into the night, out into the wide fields surrounding the necropolis.

As usual, the fields were clear and quiet, with only the occasional animal and a few Undead, some enjoying the night air, some entertaining dates and so on. Joseph made sure to warn each of the recent slayings and to be on their guard. As the night went on, the conversation quickly turned to the most common small talk amongst Undead who didn't know each other.
"So, how did you guys die?" asked the claymore-wielding zombie.
"Funny thing, actually," said the first archer, a skeleton wearing a brown leather cap, "I was with this girl, drow, long white hair and a great body, and we were about to get it on, right? So we sneak into this barn, and all excited I jump backwards into this big pile of hay! And wouldn't you know it? Big old pitchfork, buried under the pile! It goes RIGHT through my back and out my chest, boom, dead!"
"Hahaha! Oh man, that sucks!" chuckled Rautar.
"Heh! Yeah, but still, last thing I ever saw was that drow babe's naked rack! Definitely not the worst thing for your last living view, yeah?" said the skeleton, smiling wryly. They all shared a laugh and agreed.
"How about you?" asked the zombie to the other archer, a skeleton in a red tunic.
"Me? I got robbed a few too many times so I went out and got me this guard dog. The guy who sold it to me, he says the dog's the best killer they got. So I buy him, get him home, he's fine the whole way. The second the leash comes off... First thing he goes for is me! Took my throat right out, you believe that?" he said, shaking his head.
"Oh man! Hahaha! Hey, at least you got your money's worth, didn't ya? He was the best killer in the business, alright!" joked Rautar.
"Oh, yeah, he was, but the guy ALSO told me he knew to recognize his master! Well, let me tell you, after I was brought back I went down there and got my damned money back! That learned him not to scam people, seeing a skeleton come in looking for a refund, let me tell you!" he finished.
"I'll bet!" said the zombie. "As for me, you see this dent in my head? A heavy wooden sign on a shop in Cothos fell two stories, the sharp edge of it caught me right on the noggin. I dunno, I guess the rope holding it got worn out or something. You wanna hear the funny thing? The sign was for a shop that sold coffins!" he said, finishing with a quirky grin.
"Right place at the right time, man! Did they get you a box from there?" asked the capped archer.
"Nah, my brother got me a pine one back by his place. Cheaper, but still not terrible." said the zombie shrugging.
Joseph kept quiet. This topic wasn't one of his favorites, but everyone already knew the story of his death, the vampires stabbing him, leaving him to die as they butchered his daughter. They all knew better than to pry him for details, more out of respect than from fear. His thoughts brought him unwillingly back to that time. Rautar piped in then, telling his own story about how he was cast, alive, into Hell and how he had actually died IN Hell, unlike others who went there upon death, and how he was granted his powers. The others laughed along with Rautar, but to Joseph they all sounded so far away. And as Rautar enjoyed being in the spotlight yet again, Joseph quietly said a prayer for his daughter.





This concludes the first snippet of my stories I'll be adding on here, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I know this one wasn't exactly 'action-packed' as it usually is, but in this case I wanted to start this off by focusing more on the characters themselves and their personalities than just action. Once again, I hoped you enjoyed it, and feel free to leave me comments if you'd like.