Grim Ruination, Birth of a Soul (On Hiatus)

The Small Town

It was then that Enrolst came back with two plates of seared meat, setting them down in front of the two customers. Instead of walking away however, she turned to Darris. "By the way, this might be an odd question, but is Gregory Grimhul your brother? The one who works with Mr. Jhinarr. You look a lot like him." She asked, leaning forward.

Darris leaned back slightly. He thought for a moment. His bloodline seemed to still be alive, even 200 years later. Then he nodded slightly. "Um.. yes he's my brother. Technically. I've been gone a long time." He answered, trying to keep his answer vague. He was part of the Grimhul line, so it wasn't necessarily a lie.

Enrolst took a half-step away from Darris, putting a bit of her hair behind her ear. "Oh, in which case, tell him to stop by sometime. Thanks." And with that she turned and walked away. Darris watched her as she left. Oddly noting that the waitress attire was slightly small for her.

"Quit staring and eat your food." Svelkan said, already taking a bite of his meat.

"I wasn't staring." Darris said quickly, a light warmthh padding his cheeks.

Svelkan just nodded sarcastically. "Sure." He said.

Darris looked down at his food. It was nothing fancy. Just the cooked leg of a lamb. Just as Darris remembered. Somehow the food was the same here, even 200 years into the future. He picked a piece of meat from the slab in front of him. As he expected it was hot, but not enough to burn his hand. Then he shoved it in his mouth and ate it. The meat warmed the inside of his mouth, and his lips. However, only the left side of it. He'd almost forgotten that half his face was no longer there. Nothing but his skull. He was a corpse after all, it was a wonder his nerves even functioned. Then he swallowed, then felt nothing. He felt the meat fall into his empty stomach, but nothing. He didn't feel hungry, or satiated by the piece of meat.

"Considering I'm undead, do I even need to eat? Or sleep, or drink or anything?" He asked.
Svalken looked at Darris, then to his food. He rolled his eyes, more at himself then to Darris. "No, or breath actually. But you can still feel anywhere you have... had... nerves before. So everywhere but the side of your face." he said, then he leaned forward and pulled Darris's cooked lamb back to himself.

Darris looked down at his hands. The illusion over Darris's body made him look alive. Made it look like blood still coursed through his veins. Made it look like he still needed to eat. And drink. And sleep. And breath.

Darris stood up from his chair. The chair grinding against the wooden floor with a splitting screech. He then turned and began walking toward the exit.

"What are you done?" Svalken asked, more annoyed than concerned.

"Just going to look around." Darris answered.
Svalken sighed and took another bite of his lamb, followed by a sip of ale from the mug at his side. "Be back soon." Was all he said before Darris left into the streets of Vanderin; the town he lived in 200 years ago.

Darris didn't really have an idea as to where he would go. He just needed to walk around. To scour his former hometown. To feel the wind on his skin. To feel alive. Despite the face he was nothing more than a corpse with its soul still caged in its body.

He'd seen undead before. They weren't necessarily rare, albeit it was frowned upon to bring something dead back to life.

He vaguely called a memory to his mind. Squad 12 had gone on a mission to clear out a random abandoned mansion in the middle of nowhere. Apparently someone had stumbled upon it and saw a few undead within it. He ran and called the nearest guild, Fame.

When they had arrived, they came across many zombies that came from nearly every room and swarmed them. However, the undead weren't hostile. In fact they were all dressed as servers and retainers of the mansion. Whilst none but one of them could speak, they all served their duties of keeping the mansion clean. At least, as clean as about 20 undead with generally limited motor function could.