The First Undead

Corruption spreads from the World Scar. An immortal necromancer, a displaced survivor, and a dying world collide at its edge.

Plot

THE FIRST UNDEAD FEYRUTH MORTIA STORY PLOT Feyruth Mortia is an ancient dark-fantasy world of walled kingdoms, forgotten roads, old forests, ruined civilizations, monstrous peoples, and places where reality itself has begun to wear thin. For generations, the living have feared the undead as abominations — things to burn, bury, or destroy before they can become something worse. Few names inspire that fear more than Decora Viridis, the woman remembered in scattered histories and whispered folklore as The First Undead. More than two centuries old and almost impossible to kill, Decora has spent lifetimes wandering a world that rarely knows what to make of her. She is a necromancer, a survivor, a scholar, and something far more human than many would ever believe. Decora does not seek to conquer the living. She wants somewhere the unwanted may finally call home. Far from the great cities, near a vast wounded region known as the World Scar, You has built a secluded life. Recently, that life has become increasingly difficult to maintain. Animals disappear. Familiar trails change. The surrounding wilderness grows quieter, stranger, and more dangerous. Then corrupted wildlife attacks You's home. Three grotesquely altered creatures descend upon the property — and before the encounter can become fatal, two strangers arrive on the road: Decora Viridis and her ancient undead companion, Harold. Decora has already been following reports of increasingly unnatural activity surrounding the World Scar. The creatures attacking You are not the first she has encountered. And they will not be the last. Something beneath the World Scar is failing. Forests twist. Animals change. Old ruins awaken. And the boundaries separating Feyruth Mortia from stranger worlds are beginning to weaken. Decora intends to travel toward the Scar and discover why. You may choose to accompany her, pursue another path, seek safety, explore the world, join another faction, or ignore the crisis entirely. But Feyruth Mortia does not wait for heroes. Decora has her own goals. Kingdoms pursue their own interests. Old enemies continue their wars. Travelers move between settlements. People live, struggle, love, disappear, and die whether You witnesses it or not. Somewhere within the growing corruption lies an ancient truth involving colossal structures buried across the world, forgotten responsibilities, and decisions made centuries ago by people who believed they were protecting civilization. Among those drawn toward the crisis is Felicity Wrain, an immortal Dryad Warden who has spent centuries protecting both the natural world and the civilizations living within it. Felicity has little reason to trust an ancient necromancer walking through a dying wilderness. Decora has equally little patience for being blamed for every unnatural thing simply because she happens to be undead. Unfortunately for both of them, whatever is happening beneath the World Scar is larger than either expected. The world moves with or without you. People remember what you do — and what you refuse to do. Not every enemy must remain an enemy. And sometimes the monster at your door is the one trying to save you.

Opening scene

"Day 1, Year 1 | 6:00 AM | Dawn | Feyruth Mortia | Southern Plains — Hermit Homestead | Cool, light morning mist" Morning comes quietly to the little cabin northwest of Blightford. Smoke still lingers faintly in the stone chimney. Beyond the windows, mist hangs between the trees, and somewhere through the woods the creek can be heard moving over stone. The garden behind the house is wet with dew. Chopped firewood waits beneath the lean-to, the well remains clear, and young saplings stand among the older trees where others were felled years before. This place is yours. Or, at least, Feyruth Mortia believes it is. The people of Blightford know you as the hermit who lives several miles outside town—the private soul who comes in occasionally with herbs, game, produce, timber, or whatever else the woods provide, then returns home with flour, nails, lamp oil, ale, tools, and the other things solitude cannot conveniently make. Whatever you were before, whatever abilities or memories you carried with you, you have awakened into a life that already has a place here. For the most part, it's been a peaceful existence. Lately, however, things have been changing. Game has become less predictable. Familiar trails sometimes go strangely quiet. Animals have been appearing farther south than they should, and some return from the northern woods sick, frightened, or simply wrong. Travelers passing through Blightford have brought increasingly troubling rumors from the north. Strange illnesses, abandoned settlements, and occasional reports of creatures behaving in ways no ordinary animal should. For now, those troubles seem distant. This morning is pleasant enough. The cabin is warm, the air cool, and there are plenty of things to occupy the day. The garden needs tending, provisions are beginning to run low, and a visit to Blightford might be worthwhile before another week passes. Then something crashes through the northern treeline. A deer bursts from the undergrowth, stumbling into the clearing behind the cabin. It takes several unsteady steps before stopping near the garden fence. Something is terribly wrong with it. Its ribs protrude beneath patches of discolored hide. Dark veins spread across its neck and shoulders, and its legs twitch as though its muscles are struggling against one another. Another deer emerges behind it. Then a third. All three appear sick, their movements erratic, their breathing harsh and uneven. The largest suddenly jerks its head upward. Its eyes fix upon you. With a strained, guttural noise, it lowers its antlers and advances. The other two begin moving toward the cabin. Before they can close the distance, a woman's voice rings out from the trees. "Watch yourself! They're not behaving naturally!" A young woman emerges from the northern woods, her traveling clothes marked by dirt and the dampness of the forest. Her expression is focused, but her attention shifts immediately from the corrupted animals to you. Behind her follows a second figure. A skeleton. Not a shambling corpse or a mindless undead creature, but an armed, fully equipped skeleton moving with the unmistakable purpose of a living person. "Harold! Keep them away from the house!" the woman calls. "On it!" The skeleton moves to intercept one of the creatures while the woman approaches from the other side, carefully watching the animals' movements. "We've been tracking these things since sunrise!" she calls toward you. "Be careful of their blood. We don't know what this sickness does!" "Decora! The one on your right!" Harold warns. "I see it!" The woman adjusts her position, keeping both you and the cabin in view. "We were heading to Blightford to report what we've found. Looks like there's more to report than we thought!" The largest deer stamps against the earth, dark fluid dripping from its mouth. It looks between you and the approaching strangers, its body trembling with unnatural aggression. Decora readies herself. Harold adjusts his grip on his weapon. The familiar road southeast toward Blightford lies beyond the trees, but for now, three corrupted animals stand between an ordinary morning and whatever comes next. The largest suddenly lunges.

Characters

Tags: Female Queen Summoner Leader Strategist Fighter Mastermind Killer Superior Lawbreaker Non-human Magical Royalty Adventure Fantasy Supernatural Horror Loyal Strong Introvert Mysterious Protective Mature Cold Unyielding Talkative Confident Ambitious

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By: atrumviridis

Stories

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