have You ever felt like boiled shit? Like somebody had curb-stomped every pain receptor on your body? That's how it felt when I woke up. Couple that with the sudden terror of finding yourself sealed within a big-ass stone coffin, and you got my first couple of hours as a member of the walking dead. That's right, I was a Hollow, a zombie, a wight etc. Was being the key word in that sentence, so don't gimme that look and sit the fuck down. so, after my glorious undead strength sent the lid of my sarcophagus into the ceiling, I freaked out again. Not every day you look at your hands and see bones and papery zombie-skin. My attempts at yelling though, only produced a quiet hiss that at best reached the point of a low ( And undeniably creepy) moan.

After that, I tried to speak. Talking hurt. A lot. No, Seriously. It felt like gargling concertina wire and broken glass. After a moment spent coughing up dust that may or may not have been my lungs, I sat up and looked around. A thick layer of dust and spiderwebs covered everything, lending a spooky air to th-MY tomb. It was a bit unnerving to see my own name carved into the archway that led into the crypt. Aside from the dust though, everything was in good condition. Probably because of my brother. You see, Every living being has a magical aura. While I was never truly adept at the arcane, I am rather good at recognizing these aura. As such, I could tell what spells were used and who cast them. In this case, a set of weapons and armor had been given an enchantment to prevent degradation by my brother. My helm however, Had an additional enchantment. All of the music on my old smartphone had been placed in a small gem that could be played at a thought. He had also left a "trap" to be set off if I ever moved, and I was assaulted with a memory spell.

It was...difficult to watch. The first memory was sweet, Watching my Nieces and nephew be born... But as it went on, it really began to sink in how long I'd been gone. I was helpless as I watched my baby bro grow old and grey...damn...Just remembering it puts a lump in my throat. Jake was nearing eighty when he recorded his last message. I...I would've cried if I could. He'd been king for near 50 years, and you could see how much the crown had weighed him down. He was bent and his eyes...I could only describe them as having seen too much. He told me about my curse, and the lengths he had gone through to break it. Unfortunately, he could only lessen it's grip on my mind and soul enough for me to control my body. It was a powerful Geas, One that would have forced me to watch as My undying body murdered and feasted had he not intervened. His work had one unintended side effect. A death-like sleep.

Jake, Being unable to tell when I would awaken, Had enchanted an entire island, and built a crypt on it to contain me and my curse. (The power bleedoff from my curse was necromantic in origin. That means the dead walk when I spend more than a day in an area.) But before it was completed, a great war broke out, and a magical superweapon was used. This caused a great disruption that manifested itself as a magical plague and a new dark age. Many of the fallen heroes of this war, and many victims of this mutagenic plague were placed in my crypt and the island was sealed away and forgotten by many. This final memory was my brother's last act, as he'd used much of his remaining strength to make the island disappear until I stirred.

Hey! Don't give me that look! Grown men can cry too damnit! Anyway, After that, things took a pretty dark turn. I heard a scuffle echoing through the halls. It took me a moment to find out where because, of course, I had to trigger every damn trap along the way. After Extricating myself from a spear trap for the 5th time I made it to what appeared to be an Atrium. Several large figures were converging on a much smaller figure in the dim light of the moon, pouring through a large hole in the ceiling. The smaller figure fought valiantly, giving more than it got before it fell to a rush. As the larger figures further into the light, I saw they were bipedal cat-people. Their captive however was slightly different. She was still some form of anthropomorphic creature, but I was torn between calling her a horse or a pony. She was About 5" 3', With a rainbow of greyscale colours in her hair. She wearing khaki shirt and shorts, and a pith helmet, while her captors wore what almost seemed like tribal gear. One of the tribal guys got this real nasty look on his face, the kinda look that only the scum of the world can get. As his friends tied up the poor girl, struggling and kicking as she was, he approached and drew his knife. With a flick of the wrist, he'd torn through her shirt and undies, leaving her breasts bare for all to see.

At that point, I took action. I fucking HATE rapists. Injustice, in any form, infuriates me. So I picked up my axe, my shield, and selected a song from my helm. The song blared from all around, loud enough to confuse and disorient the bastards in front of me long enough for me to bury the axe in the skull of the one trying to remove the pony-girl's pants. I bludgeoned the other with my shield as I let the axe fall and drew my longsword. The Cat-boys were freaking out (Probably because I was a walking corpse with glowing eyes) and were in disarray. One got lucky and buried a knife in my back. It hurt, but only silver or blessed weapons could kill me. I ran him through and tossed him into one of his friends. when the dead weight of his fallen buddy had knocked him over I strode over and stomped his skull til he stopped twitching. Fucking tribals couldn't fight worth a damn. The last cat was smaller than the others, and was busy pissing himself in fear as I knelt down to eye level with him. I noticed with some satisfaction that i'd broken some of his teeth with my shield.

In my raspy, almost draugr-like voice I said one word. "Run". The little bastard was off down the nearest hallway in the blink of an eye. The pony-girl was busy trying to free herself when I started approaching her. She noticed, and (understandably) started trying to inch away. When I knelt next to her she gritted her teeth and stared into my eyes.

"Alright you zombie fuck. Ya got me. The great Daring Do. Just...Make it quick." she said. closing her eyes and exposing her neck. She was trembling. I suppose I would be too when it seemed that death was literally seconds away. I sheathed my sword and drew my Seax. I then leaned over and cut the bindings on her wrist before moving down and freeing her hooves. I then Stood up and crossed my arms, Watching her stare at me.

"What are you...." asked the incredulous adventurer, seeming to have forgotten her shirt's tattered state and giving me an eyeful of her rather perky assets. (If you gotta know, I'd place them between a large B and a small C). Thinking fast, I removed the shirt of the guy I'd axed and tossed it at her. She went a little green at the blood, but went red when she realized why I'd given her a shirt. I'd already turned around to recover my axe in order to be polite.

The adventuress, freshly garbed and slowly recovering from the shock of meeting the only "zombie" she'd ever met who hadn't tried to eat her, Approached.

"Uh...Thanks...I guess. You aren't gonna try and eat me are ya? Cause I've got silver!" Daring said, drawing what looked like a silver dagger from a satchel that she'd recovered. I just crossed my arms and shook my head. She lowered the dagger and coiled what seemed to be a whip around her body. "Okay then....I'm just gonna...go..." she said pointing at the door.

I shoo my head and pointed to myself. "Take....Me...." I rasped out painfully. "Cursed...Talking...Hurts"

Daring just looked me over and then sagged. "Ugh. I suppose you ARE technically a magical relic." she conceded. "But, I need a specific scepter from this crypt. A powerful Artifact of the last human king. so come on er...What's your name?" she asked, just realizing she didn't know.

I grit my teeth through the pain and spoke once more. "I am...Brandon" Daring nodded.

"Pleasure to meet you Brandon. I'm sure the princesses will be able to help...Once we get the scepter that is." said the Mare confidently. If I still had eyes I'd have rolled'em. Like I'd now who or what she was talking about. Something told me right then, it was gonna be a long night.

Author's Note

Whiskey here, Hoping you'll enjoy the adventures of our sarcastic undead friend. As always criticism and pointers welcome, no matter how cruel.

Seax is a series of knives popular in europe after the fall of the roman empire for their versatility. Raiders, sailors and common men alike carried these deadly blades.