[h1]Ruined Inn[/h1]

[hr]

... Hold it.

I'm halfway there and I've only just realized.

That girl with the hammer was going to check out the scratching in the basement, wasn't she?

I suddenly find myself sprinting.

What am I even going to do?

If there's something down there, it's not like I've figured out how to do magic. And she has a warhammer, she's way better equipped to deal with whatever might be down.

And yet, here I am, sprinting down through the ruined inn towards the basement, gripping my staff in both hands as I turn the corner. I'm lighter than I was before, but my legs are probably a lot shorter given my new height, so I don't think I'm moving that fast.

Seriously, what are you going to do? Don't be stupid. You're not an idiot.

Admonishing myself isn't making me run any slower, though.

And then---

She's there. It's moving.

It's a little different seeing it now. I know I witnessed the shambling shapes on the street, but this is---

It's dried out. Desiccated. It looks like a mummified corpse, like those self-sacrificing monks or a ruler from ancient Egypt. It's dried out and hollow, a blade in one hand, eye sockets empty, and leathery skin clinging to its skeletal frame.

I find myself drawing a sharp intake of breath, my hands clutching at my staff.

I can't move.

I ran here and now I can't move.

Stupid. Why did I even bother? I've just frozen up and she's got a warhammer, what was I even planning on doing?

My heart is pounding. My fingers tightening.

I'm a mage, aren't I? That skill has to mean something, right?

But I can't even start thinking about it.

Suddenly the undead is falling forward.

It's the elf man. I have no idea how he got here first, but he managed to get here and stab it in the back of the neck.

That finally snaps me out of it.

"Are you stupid!? You had a chance to ambush it and you-"

It's back up. It's already moving and raising its blade.

But so is the girl with the warhammer. She's bringing it down as if it's a second nature to her.

There's a spray of dust rather than blood as the undead's skull comes apart. But it doesn't stop there. Its shoulders crack. I think its upper torso caves in on itself too.

It just crumples under the blow of the hammer.

I guess that makes sense given how dried out it is.

If it was fresher corpse, this would have been a lot worse. As it stands, I still feel ill, but at least I barely recognize whatever parts of it are still intact after the hammer blow.

I look away, sucking in quite a bit of air as I try and calm myself and stop feeling quite so nauseous.

But I can't let that stupidity stand, either.

Why would anyone think a knife alone would do the trick here? Against [i]that[/i]?

Taking another deep breath, I manage to stand up straight again, my hands still gripping my staff tightly.

"What made you think stabbing it in the neck was going to work? Did you seriously think that thing's breathing? That it's relying on bloodflow? At least if you tried to cut off the head, it would have made more sense!"

I use the tip of my staff to point. The undead's remains aren't quite so bad to look at now, but I'm not going to linger on them any more then I have to.

"We're in a fantasy setting, anyway, so these are probably magical undead," I add, not about to let him get off lightly, "There's no way just stabbing it alone was going to do the trick! Think a little more carefully, unless you [i]want[/i] to die a second time!"

Some would call be too harsh, but there's no way I'm going to tolerate someone gleefully throwing themselves into the maximum amount of danger without even the slightest bit of forethought.

We need to get out of here, and dying isn't exactly helpful.

... Besides, it's not like I'd be happy if anyone here died. We're all in the same boat, so losing someone---

I don't really want to think about it, honestly. It's bad enough that I'm tiny and the opposite sex, I don't need to go thinking about witnessing someone die for real.

[@PKMNB0Y][@Aku the Samurai][@SilverPaw][@RolePlayerRoxas]