I will never show my fear. Who: Rosestein Stone and NPCs. What: Stone discovers the emergence of the undead, then runs to her neighborhood to keep her family safe. Where: Starts in the Commoners District, moves to Stone’s area of the Tenement District. When: Sometime around when the zombie attacks began. Rating: PG-13. Status: Complete.
It had been an eerily quiet night in the Commoners District. The vendors were quieter, more fidgety than usual, paying less attention to their stock. Thief Stone noted this as she slipped another orange into her small sack, the man distracted by one of the dark storm clouds on the horizon, the woman next to her chatting him up about how odd they looked.
The young woman hadn’t been the first to take some items—she’d known this for a fact. The dark-haired girl, with her burlap cloak drawn tightly around her, had seen others, cheapskate middle-aged women, greedy Thieves Guilders, or even impoverished starving children like she herself had been at one point.
Turning around a corner with as much discreetness as she could muster, Stone paused a moment to survey her haul. Two small oranges, a pair of rolls, and a small bit of cream cheese. It wasn’t much, but it had grown too late to make the soup she had promised Audren. Content, the young pickpocket turned to head back to her home in the Tenement District. Some of the people had dispersed, murmuring about the unsettling stillness in the air. Stone didn’t mind it, herself—it was nights like these that she feared being caught less. Still, it wouldn’t do to leave her younger brother hungry. It wasn’t that the atmosphere was affecting the woman, surely not.
Taking care not to cast a glance sideways—though she’d really wanted to, for some reason—Stone walked steadily, trying to talk herself out of her nervousness. It was by no means her first time stealing anything, so why was tonight different? She was some ways into the journey home when she had heard someone call out, “Thief!!!”
It was at this point that the pale youth had chosen to drop her nonchalant disposition and run on her swift feet, hoping the agility she was lauded for in her small circle in the Thieves Guild would serve her. It seemed the Fates weren’t so kind to her that night as she managed to run into an armor-suited figure. “I-I’m sorry,” she began, “I need to get this medicine home to my ailing family, you see. I paid for everything, so if you’d just—”
It was then that she noticed the figure raising its sword, rusted, misshapen, and tried to swing it down upon her! She very nearly could’ve had a very nasty cut to explain to her younger brother, and was about to ask the armored person what right they had, as a member of the Emillion Knights of the Peace, to assault a do-gooding, peace-loving member of the fine town they’d sworn to protect, when she noticed something was amiss.
The rusted sword, with matching, archaic armor. Rotted skin. And then, she saw it—glowing eyes. This was no person, or at least, they were at some point, but not anymore.
Pulling her goods close to her chest, Thief Stone took off, trying to ignore the shambling behind her, around her, and—dear Faram—in front of her. It was almost like drunkenness—another reason for Stone to dislike the drink—and sped away, her cloak fluttering in the breeze behind her. She highly doubted even her mythril dagger, had she brought it, would’ve served her against such a horde.
Before she knew it, she was home, throwing open the door. “Audren, Mom, get up!!!” she screamed, alerting the blonde woman and blond boy to her presence. “Keep yer fuckin’ voice down, Rosestein!” Glora shouted back. It was no time to waste hatred on her mother, Stone decided, and grabbed Audren by the arm. “Didn’t you—it should be all over—look at the fucking network once in a while, you drunk bitch!” Glora wasn’t having it. “What’d you say to me!? I’m notta damn drunk!” she screamed as she stumbled to her feet, then fell instantly. “Look, okay, enough, this isn’t the time for this, Mom. There’s—undead, shittons of undead. I ran into them, barely escaped—we’re going to Tilda’s! Now!!!”
Audren looked bewildered and frightened. “B-but, Rosie, what about my homework and studies and—” Stone cut him off. “Mrs. Applebaum wouldn’t want your maths if you were dead, Audren, c’mon! Here, I gotta help Mom. Go tell Old Tilda, take the food—here, take the rest of this loaf, too, put it in the sack—I’m getting my mythril knife, and I gotta help Mom up. Just—I’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, c’mon, sport, don’t gimme that look—and tell Tilda what’s going on, and we’ll be fine.”
Audren accepted the sack, did as he was told, and head off to the house next door, 64-year-old Tilda Maginney’s. It was unlikely that the Stone family was going to be the only one seeking shelter there that night. Tilda was one of the few houses in the immediate area with a cellar, or at least one that wasn’t meant to only store tools. It could hold quite a few people if she tried.
Running to her room, she snatched her dagger made of mythril silver out from under her bed, and nearly ran out of the room before deciding to pick up a few potions she’d bought at Quen’s mother’s shop. Heading back to her mother’s room, she pulled on Glora’s arms as she attempted to raise her to her feet. “C’mon, Mom, let’s go. Look, I’m not gonna leave you hear to get the shit eaten out of by zombies. I’m not having that on my conscience.” She had pulled Glora up, put her arm over her own shoulder, and helped the middle-aged woman stumble through. While she was at it, Stone made Glora put on a pair of sandals, as footwear would always prove useful in these types of conditions.
The silence, though, she didn’t like. What would she even talk about with her mother, who was estranged in all but physical distance? Her dress? No, clothes were something Thief Stone never cared for, as long as it kept you warm and the holes didn’t expose any indecent parts. So, she decided to ramble. “First the attack on the docks, now this—I wonder If Aspel’s out in this? Oh, Faram, I hope Quen isn’t in there—she’d be a help, yeah, but she needs to be safe. Nate’s traps could probably help at a time like this, he’s good with machines—oh god, Peony! And Merri! They’re probably there, and—Faram, I hope Wil and Altair and Ari are alright, Ari’s been feeling so damn tired lately—Bertha would be useful at a time like this, I wish she was still around. Damn it, Mom, aren’t those sandals on yet?”
Stone had realized she was looking at the window pensively, and Glora had long since affixing her footwear to her feet. She had even helped herself to her feet and was leaning on the wall already. “We gotta go, honey,” Glora said, noting her daughter’s worry. Stone offered her shoulder, and she helped her mother hobble out of their home and into the neighbor’s house. “You worry so much,” Glora began, and Stone wanted to protest, but her mother cut her off. “It’s sweet. It’s nice to see you making friends again… After all, it’s… my fault, and…”
And Stone didn’t want to hear it. “Yeah, sure, we can save the overdue heartfelt moments for a time when we’re not in danger. C’mon.” They had reached their destination, and found Audren talking to some other kids, ones Stone recognized as his friends. Helping her mother sit down in Tilda’s favorite rocking chair, she headed over to where her little brother was.
He and a younger girl were trying to calm some of the children down. It was a bit of a bizarre sight, a 10-year-old boy and a 7-year-old girl trying to reassure 12- and 13-year-olds—though that’s not to say there weren’t children of varying ages. Each was holding a few of their own trinkets, some item to reassure themselves or some type of food item, possibly something from an interrupted dinner. But the oddest part of the scene, however, was that Tilda was nowhere to be seen.
“Audren,” Stone began, and he told the group he needed to go for now, noting his sister’s presence, and ended with, “And if you get really scared, find someone to hold your hand.” He looked up at her, and she asked, “Where the hell did Tilda go?” In response, he handed her a note, and said, “She said ‘Give this to that Stony girl,’ and headed outside.” The dark-haired girl offered her thanks to her little brother, and sent him on his way to resume subduing the children’s fears.
Stone, it began, If this is as serious as Audren told me, we have to let people know. Tell your mom to help take care of the kids. Tilda. Glora? Take care of children? Maybe in this dire situation, she would. But… telling people about the infestation of the undead, even if it was two districts away, could help prevent casualties. “…Mom?” She hesitated, then went on, “Tilda went to warn the other people around our area in the district. I’m going to go help her. Maybe get some more stuff for the kids here, if they’re hungry.” Glora nodded, realizing her daughter’s intent, and called to her son. “Audren, get Mom a glass of water. Kids, do you wanna hear a—a story? You’ll need to give me a minute; I had a little too much wine. But I know lots of stories.”
‘A little too much wine?’ Stone thought, then quelled her disgust, for far more important matters were at hand. Tossing her burlap cloak on a table and instructing the kids to share if they got cold, she began to head out to tell the people who couldn’t, didn’t, or hadn’t checked the network—for surely it was be all over there by now—Stone readied her mythril and steel daggers more properly and began to head out the door. “Wait,” a small voice began. It was the 7-year-old girl Audren was pontificating serenity with. “I’m Linda,” she began, and continued, “I left my dollie back at my house.” Giving the directions to her shack, Linda continued, “Her name’s Lulu. She’s dressed like a black mage, and I left her here when Mrs. Maginney came to the door. Can you get her for me? She’s all alone.”
Stone wanted to tell Linda that human lives were worth much more than some cotton-stuffed fabric sewn together, but the look in the little redheaded girl’s eyes made Stone nod, and say, “I know how that feels. I’ll go get Lulu for you.” Smiling, Linda turned back to the children, as Stone headed out the door, heart racing as it had when all this began.