The Ruins

In the ruins of Mount Kai, there arose a warrior. She was fierce with her sword. Blood still dripped from her plaid kilt. Her short sleeved, white shirt was now stained, with the dirt of the mountain and streaked with the blood of her enemies. Her short blonde hair was a mess, flailing out in all directions. Her blue eyes pierced through the environment around her. She was looking intently for more. The fallen bodies around her were not human. The rocky terrain hid them well. Zombies had interbred with Orcs. They were blood thirsty and savage. Ramal had failed to protect her village. Many fought back, but none were left alive. She wandered alone. She wasn’t afraid. She was hunting. Golden embers and smoke were surrounding the villages. Ramal had set them on fire, on her way up the mountain, to bury her family and friends. She was saddened by the loss of her loved ones, but it also fed her rage and thirst for vengeance. She had met the mutant army at the base of the mountain. They were filing into their cave like holes. She took them out, one and two at a time. With a swift movement, her sword decapitated them all. She left their bodies where they fell. It would bring out more of the mutants to feed on the corpses. She had lain a perfect trap. She waited behind the rocks for more to come out. The smell was grotesque, rotting flesh and death mixed with blood. The mountain minerals were soaking it up, turning the dirt into red mud. KRAG Krag was plotting out points on the map. He was certain of the Zomborcs resting hole. His long black hair was tied back with a piece of farming twine. He brushed a stray lock away from his face and tucked it behind his ear. His chocolatey brown eyes were intent with his purpose. The map in front of him was spread out on a table, in the tent, made into the war room. His officers were following him blindly. They respected and trusted him. Krag’s direction was northwest, into the mountains. He wasn’t sure where they had their intelligence headquarters. The Orcs were crafty. They had taken the new mutant half breeds under their command. The Zombies were one thing, they were easy to lure and kill. The new mutants had thoughts and maneuvered quickly. His hometown had been struck by the war. His family was killed in the battle. Krag’s father died defending their territory. He was a war hero. Krag intended to follow in his father’s footsteps. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t mind the sacrifice, if it meant peace for the people. The villagers had antique methods. They couldn’t defend their homes with shovels and pitchforks. The mutants ate whatever they wanted. They killed the farm animals, and their owners. They wreaked havoc everywhere they went. Crops were destroyed with blood in the soil. Nothing would grow back. There was silence in the air, and the smell of rotting flesh and blood. Krag gathered his troops. “Get ready to go boys!” His voice was strong and confidant. He rolled up his bedding and supplies in a knap sack that he carried on a long stick. His sword and knives hung from his hips. The sheathes were tied on with his suspender straps. His kilt was long, to his calves. He wore a tunic of wool and cotton threads. The countryside where they were, was green and brown. The villages that they passed were empty. Food was scarce. The troops gathered grain where they found it, that hadn’t been contaminated. He didn’t want anyone catching the virus. It would prove deadly. The virus made the skin turn yellow and green, with open oozing sores. They would soon become Zombies. Krag would kill them before it got that far. Their blood was still contagious. Fifty men followed him. He gained more as they traveled, young boys and teenagers that had been left behind. The Zomborcs attacked where and when they wanted. These youths were in the fields, tending the livestock. Young girls were still at the villages. They were trying desperately to piece together, what was left of their homes. Their parents had fought valiantly, but were either taken or killed. Sorrow flooded the land. Mounds of new dirt marked shallow graves. Even the animals that were left, seemed hollow and depressed. The silence was deafening. RAMAL Ramal covered her tracks. She checked on her traps and trip wires. She was hungry and filthy. She ate a few bugs that she found, under some of the rocks that she moved. She didn’t know the mountain as well as the Orcs. There had to be water somewhere. She didn’t want to venture too far. She didn’t want to miss out on her opportunity to strike. The forest was about five miles to the northeast. There was vegetation from trees. Wild animals roamed freely. She craved real food. There was no cover for her to move from the rocks. Her stomach growled and she grumbled with her hunger pains. She leaned back on a rock and tried to relax. She needed to find water, and soon. Ramal ventured further. She stayed next to the rock formation, trying to not be seen. She climbed up the rocks. She hid and looked around before making her next move. She was cautiously, slowly, making progress up the mountain. Once she was on top, she sprawled on her belly and crawled to the rock face. She could see the entire country side. The smoke from the fires rose and faded. She sighed, and breathed heavily with the thought of her family. They lost everything. Her father had fought heroically. Her mother tried to protect her and her younger siblings. They all died. She had to burn them all. She had only escaped because she was good at hiding. Her small frame helped with that as well. She had lain in the grass under the remains of a dead horse. It masked the smell of her blood, and covered her heartbeat. She was disgusted with herself for surviving. She needed to kill them all, or die trying. Her blue eyes closed as a tear slipped down her cheek. She looked out in every direction, looking intently for any movement or sign of life. She was also looking for any farms that remained, where she might find food. She had tracked her enemy for a very long distance. She slowly pushed herself backward to be unseen as she stood. She surveyed the land on the top of the rocks, that lead to the forest. It was a very long way off, still. She needed food to keep living. She moved forward.