"What's going on?" Mark looked about, darting his eyes here and there in confusion.
"Mark!" Panilusai yelled, startling Mark, he turned away from the undead that swarmed towards him and looked at him.
Panilusai remained still, red eyes beamed beneath his bony sockets. Mark turned to the crowd that had gathered. They weren't a lot by any means, about a little beyond two dozens, thirty at most.
He kept turning back and forth from the crowd and Panilusai until he stopped.
'He's much taller than the others.' More menacing as well. Panilusai was at least an average man taller than the rest of the undead villagers, he had on an old black cloak and red eyes that seemed to have been bestowed to him by a god of the underworld. The others on the other hand wore little to no clothing, with some wearing dark jackets of wool, others some feathery groin cloth and most wore nothing.
Nobody seemed to have his red eyes as well. Theirs was in a lighter shade of various colors, of green, red, yellow and others, none evoking a sense of power.
[Undead]
[Undead]
[Undead]
'Rather boring.'
Mark turned to Panilusai who remained still and fixated on him.
'He must be their boss.'
Mark wanted to utter a statement when the undead moved, shaking his head.
"You are most welcomed to Soulice. Tell the crowd your name and what you are."
'It'll be harmless, what more can they do with a name? It isn't like they have strange voodoo powers, right?'
Mark felt a little uncomfortable with talking to the living skeletons in front of him. He pulled the collar of his outfit as he began to sweat.
"I'm Mark and I'm human."
"Mark the human!" Someone cried from the crowd, and then another and another.
A little undead crept forward, passing by the taller ones. Mark noticed it and focused his attention on it.
"Ohh"
In its small white bony hands was a rusted steel flagon, and the little undead handed it to Mark.
"Oh thank you." Mark collected the flagon from it, he took a look, and a whiff of it told him that it was old beer, and suddenly his instinct took over, he was thirsty beyond measure.
He gobbled down the beer, his throat moving rhythmically as he took no pause till he emptied the flagon.
"Ahhh." The beer was cool and quite soothing.
He passed the flagon back to the undead girl.
"This is a gesture of goodwill, we may not remember much from our living days, but one thing we unanimously remember is its soothing effect, the urge to gobble it up."
"Ohhh."
'So they once lived? I wonder where they got the beer from.'
Panilusai turned, walking lightly with his dog, the other villagers then began to scatter, many going into their huts.
"Follow me." He said, urging Mark.
Mark walked with him, and after a couple of steps, the huts were at a distance.
"We can tell that you are not native to this place. We have had guests from the past, mostly unruly and prejudiced towards us, we've even had some attack us and reduce our numbers. We still bear no malice to them, inanimation is a blessing in a way, it's a reminder that we still can die, a humbling reminder. Soulice is a village, a refuge for those used and disposed by the wicked necromancers in the city. The city…" Panilusai paused and turned to Mark.
"It runs with wickedness and malice, most of us don't remember our days in the city, but I do, but trust me when I say this, you must avoid the city, go back to where you came, you are not like the others, the city will swallow you, your self and your life with it. Just look at us."
Mark remained still, unmoving, he was processing what Panilusai had said. The prospect of a city in a room hadn't crossed his mind.
"Ohh, I'm very sorry to hear that. I'll be careful."
Panilusai gave Mark a strange stare, and Mark's eyes darted away from him in a bid not to meet his red eyes.
"Sorry, I zoned out, we all do. We may be undead, but aging does a number on us as well." He said and had a light dry chuckle.
"I see." Mark responded, befuddled and alienated.
"So what is it? Will you leave or will you head to the city?"
"The city." Mark answered, scratching his grimy hair.
"I see, you must be on a quest, just like the others."
"I'm not like the others." Mark didn't like that he had been lumped together with those that had caused trouble.
"Then I must bid you farewell, bye Mark the human."
'Okay…'
"By…" before Mark could return the greeting, the undead had turned away and walked past him.
Mark's eyes followed the undead, he was put aback.
"Okay… that was strange, very strange."
Then the undead disappeared into one of the huts, and Mark was all alone in the little pocket world. He turned to the other direction, thinking of what awaits, but there was nothing but flat greens, his sides and where he had come from as well.
Where to go?
Suddenly, there was an instant cloud of blue and a certain mischievous cat came from it.
"Did you miss me?"
"Oh fuck off." Mark blurted without thinking.
The spirit guardian gasped, holding its paws over its mouth.
"Not good, not good." The cat frowned, its whiskers moved, and crossed its hands.
"Say you're sorry and you didn't mean it."
'Excuse me?'
Mark said nothing and looked away. The spirit guardian's face crumpled with dissatisfaction, and it disappeared out of sight.
He groaned, balling his hands into fist, he turned around looking at the untouched landscape, he needed directions to make it past this room, he needed the spirit guardian.
Mark gave in.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."
Once again, there was the poof and the spirit guardian revealed itself with its hands crossed and wearing a smug look.
"That's more like it, you need me." It said with a wide grin.