Zombies in History
Teague Fallon was born under a sign. The sign of the wizard. At least that’s what his parents always told him. Ever since he could remember, his mother and father yelled at him for not “living up to his true potential”. All day long as he went about his chores it was “great sorceror” this and “mighty warmage” that. All Teague knew was that he didn’t have any mystical abilities, and no amount of yelling was going to change that. As Teague grew older, be began to distance himself from others. At first it was just his parents. Their constant nagging had begun to manifest itself as harassment and abuse; there was nothing he could do right and he was becoming increasingly resentful of his home and family. Eventually his annoyance turned to mistrust, and his primary objective became the avoidance of others.
One day he was sitting against a stone wall, contemplating how late he would return home. The sun was setting off in the distance, and the cool autumn breeze was refreshing. Before he knew it, Teague had fallen fast asleep. By the time he had awoken, the shadows had overtaken the light and cool night air had begun to replace the warmth of the day. Standing up, Teague was surprised how bright the landscape was under the light of the moon. As he glanced towards the edge of a nearby copse of trees, a flickering light caught his eye. He knew he should be getting back to his house, but he really didn’t feel like going. The lights seemed to dance in and out of the trees, and Teague felt compelled to follow them.
After trailing the glow for a good twenty minutes, Teague looked around nervously. The lights seemed to be dimming, and darkness soon enclosed him as they faded from his view entirely. The deep woods were frightening enough during the day, but at night not even the full moon overhead could reach the forest floor, so thick was the canopy. The dead silence gave way to slight noises, a crack from the trees, the rustle of the leaves. One sound in particular suddenly caught Teague’s ear. Heavy breathing sounds seemed to be nearing, but he was unable to pinpoint their direction until hints of red came into his view. Teague slid to the base of a nearby tree as he identified the several large wolves circling around him. The largest of the three began a low, predatory growl, sensing an imminent meal. The wolves slowly padded closer until the large one lept for him! He knew he didn’t have much time, so Teague raised his arm, hoping the wolf might just crush that instead of his skull. He shut his eyes and the pain set in with a sharp crack, but when he opened his eyes he found the wolves fleeing. He looked up and the tree he had been leaning against melted away into the form of a man. He was the master of the forest, and immediately saw Teague’s true calling.
12 years have passed since the wolf attack. Teague has learned much, and trained hard to become a master of the forest. The scars ripped into his arm remind him every day of the power of nature, and why it needed to be protected and looked after. Turns out the wolves had been driven mad by a wondering wight. The dancing lights were wisps in the employ of the forest master, looking for the foul creature. Teague has learned that the forest is rarely compelled to strike out at humans, and so has devoted his life to restabilizing the land. Recently, he has been having disturbing dreams of impending doom. His teacher has instructed him to follow the wind to the source. The visions have carried him here, to Theodessia. He has no idea of the horrors that lay in store for him there.