“I’m getting a bad feeling about this” thought Clarissa; after the last muffled cry of the marshals the mist seemed to close in as they trod among the gravestones, with both sight and sound limited to only a few metres. Ahead she could make out vague shapes which might be mausoleums or small buildings, and to her right loomed the central obelisk and four cornered memorial stones of the Hussars monument. Then she could make out vague forms in the mist around her at the limit of her vision, and these started to move forwards towards them.
She squinted and peered forwards and then she fealt something grab at her ankle; looking down a withered hand was reaching up out of a grave plot, as were many others all around her. A clear voice cut through the fug of the mist.
“Foolish mutants! Did you think your approach had gone un-noticed. Those fools from the New Church will never recover my secrets. " the sneering voice called. “I have mastered life and death and you cannot defeat me! Soon you dance to my tune” A sibilant laughter petered off, and the agents saw that many figures now moved towards them. From behind muffled screams rand out from beyond the wall of fog.
“Sounds like the runners got more than they bargained for” She thought, and fired. The shot blew clean through one of the figures, but it kept on coming. Several rushed at Chick clawing and biting, engaging him in a messy melee.
“Discretion and all that” thought Clarissa, and started to back away towards the monument. The agents were not having good luck.
Moe was blazing away with twin blasters, but despite his hits this too seemed to be having limited effect. Anwyn’s blaster overloaded on the first shot vapourising a headstone and draining her powerpack, but totally missing a zombie, and then the things were on her, where she stood next to Chick. While Chick attempted to blaze away, Anwyn didn’t bother to reload and with her six foot two height (ignoring horns) she head butted the skull of one of the cadavers, smashing it to a pulp and causing the thing to collapse like a puppet with broken strings. Grunting with satisfaction she holstered her pistol and engaged in brutal melee.
’Enery was having a little more success. He had spoken with Miguel the Armourer at the Doghouse and had purchased a pair of Positronic Blasters which had been in stock- supposedly effective against sorcery and magical creatures. Clarissa and Moe had also bought a few (expensive) positronic grenades between them, and a case of incendiary grenades. In the excitement however, they seemed to have forgotten completely about them.
Each shot of a positronic blaster felled one zombie instantly, and eventually ’Enery started to shoot at two different targets each time. Both Chick and Moe were now very badly wounded by the claws and teeth of the horde, which was now pretty much approaching on all sides. Chick was bleeding heavily, when both Moe and Clarissa remembered their grenades.
Retreating backwards Moe tossed his sole positronic grenade into a bunch of zombies assaulting Anwyn, and with a dull flash of purple light half a dozen or so of the shambling horrors crumbled to a fine dust, falling into the ground. A light bulb flashed in Clarissa’s head, and she started fumbling in her utility belt.
Out of the mist ahead half a dozen robed and cowled figures had now appeared however, five of them forming a protective line in front of one in their midst; this one was muttering and gesturing, with strange energies flowing around his body. But within the swirling melee and the other robed figures, nobody could get a clear shot.
“Ia!!” finished Wylde, and a seething mass of darting black forms, similar to a horde of smoky, darting tadpoles swirled through the air and enveloped Chick, who screamed and fell to the ground. More zombies lumbered forward.
From her position at the rear Clarissa was able to use her grenades to protect ’Enery and Anwyn, who were still doing good work with positronic blaster and head butts respectively. Moe frantically scrabbled to pull the fallen Chick back away towards the monument. Clarissa was dimly aware that yet more of the things were shambling round from the far side of the monument towards them.
Once again Wylde yelled out with a piercing shriek, and this time it was Anwyn who fell stricken to the ground immersed in darting black smoke. Moe looked, and dragged Chick toward the safety of the looming ‘Enery. And then ’Enery shrieked and fell to the ground also, stricken by Wylde’s dark sorcery.
The positronic grenades had done their work well however, and there were only a few zombies in view. Clarissa threw her last one at the party surrounding Wylde, but shrieked in frustration as it missed completely: she was all out.
Both Moe and Clarissa had noticed that Wylde’s spellcasting was relatively slow. There were only two of them now , and they had a few seconds before Wylde could bring his lethal spells to bear once again. The remaining zombies lurched towards them.
Dropping Chick, Moe pulled an incendiary grenade and rushed straight through the lurching forms of the few remaining zombies, putting himself straight in front of the five berobed, silent figures protecting Wylde. Withered talons raked out to claw him, but for once his luck was in, and they failed to snag him.
“Take this you Poxy Bastard!” shrieked Moe, flinging the grenade directly at Wylde, and diving sideways for a little cover. The throw was good, and Wylde looked up at the last second as the thing impacted straight onto his chest.
With a startling “WOOOFFF!” the thing exploded in a burst of flame, immolating the cowled figures around Wylde, blowing the sorcerer off his feet and turning him into a burning torch. Agonised screams pierced the air.
“I..will….” Wylde screamed, before his legs collapsed from under him. The few remaining zombies collapsed to the ground.
Around them the fog was starting to disperse. As the mist thinned they could see the marshals, joggers and hobbled zombies running (or lurching) for their lives. Clarissa bent down and started seeing to the injured. She flashed Moe a brief smile, and he puffed his chest up. The smell of roast pork wafted across the cematory; Moe fealt hungry.
“Ey! Ey!” he chirruped. “De ye tink we could sell ’dis stiff to MacSaunders like?”"