The Zomb

The smell of sulphur scolded her nostrils and she convulsed, as she was consumed by the malevolent, red eyed rats. These rats were like their city dwelling brethren in every way, but more voracious and partial to warm, dying flesh.

Sir Heinrich of Twislton, happened upon the scene of carnage – observed, and nodded in appreciation. “Well met my friends, well met indeed – who amongst you leads this band of merry companions?”.

The rats stopped dead, eyes darting about the interloper, deciding whether to run away into the myriad of tunnels beneath or swarm over him in a whirlwind of incisors.

“Who shall I parlay with?” Heinrich pressed.

There was a flourish amongst the mass of rats, as they synchronised a wave of miniature rat arms, before falling, bowed to the soggy ground. Some rats jigged and spun, some leapt with intricate footwork, as the performance reached its climax.

“It is I – Gustovson, who leads this party”.

Stood before him was a portly rat, on his hind legs, hands on hips, looking thoughtfully into the middle distance. Chin high, chest puffed in triumph.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance good and brave sir!” Heinrich bowed low.

“I make my way to the kingdom of Swivlton, drawing a mercenary army to me, on behalf of my liege, King Chicken Caesar II. We shall then march upon the evil powers of the dark swamp…will you join me in my quest?” Heinrich offered his hand.

Gustovson, was visually moved by this – eyes glazed and sparkling like pools of stagnant water.

“We will follow you in your quest brave knight and die by your side if we must” Heinrich welled with emotion, as Gustovson grasped his hand and pulled him close in a warriors embrace.

Gustovson turned to his troops “we march for Chicken Caesar and Sir Heinrich!!!” a shrill cry filled the humid air and Heinrich swelled with pride.

“A jolly ditty, if you please Mr Gustovson!!” Heinrich bowed once more.

Gustovson leapt to the fore of the company with a pipe, blasting an upbeat number, skilfully prancing to and fro.