[WP] Your character emerges from a mass grave, incredibly lucky to be alive.

...

"Jesus Christ."

The muffled utterance emerged with a filthy grasping hand, clutching a slightly more filthy rusting shovel. It was soon followed by another hand, and then an arm, head- and shoulders in suit. Slowly but surely, the mass-grave gave birth to a bearded fellow, his strange clothing stained and ragged by manner of obvious circumstance.

Jake crawled from the clutches of the dead streaming profanity. Even in such dire straights, his heroic and noble nature shown through, immaculate.

"Lets nail a couple zombies..." His curses were soft, deafened by the mounds of corpses of his fallen foes. "Good money, twenty copper- it'll be easy..." His shoulders heaved as the shovel became a crutch, slowly limping out of the pit and back onto level ground. "Fucking bullshit. Sola killed so many of the damn things, she buried me alive."

"Groooooooooaaaaaan." Looking up, his face soured at the sight of a smaller statured body. Pale skin, gaping eyes and rotten teeth, a ghoul stumbled towards him with a hungry reach until the shovel-turned-crutch flung upward, then downward. Justice served with righteous quickness.

Crunch.

"Steaming mountain of Bullshit." Jake repeated his prior statement with further emphasis.

Truly a chosen hero of the people.

Indeed, in the eyes of almost any rational person, it was bullshit. Rightly stated, and perhaps even possessing a far larger quantity of the bovine excrement than most might be capable of measuring, metaphorically speaking. What had once been an Established Doterra Frontier town, plagued by a relatively high (but manageable) number of the undead, had entirely added their own population to the mix of shambling corpses. The original few dozen walking ghouls had since tainted the land, morphing the once peaceful and prosperous area into a thriving hive of flesh craving beasts, hundreds encircling and trapping would-be adventurers and traders alike.

How many had joined the ranks of this cursed place? The News hadn't spread- for certain only the gods only: But the Gods had always chosen to send heroes, in the hopes of righting such wrongs.

"Sola?" Jake's shout for his missing companion echoed over the thatch and tiled roofs which surrounded him. The town sprawled out, clumps of buildings befitting to a size of no small populace, and his voice rattle off about their stone sidings with equal measure. Once again, he found himself attracting unwanted attention, and once again, noble and perfect in its stroke, the shovel found itself put to a task: Spurred on like a tired but trusted work-horse.

"Fuck. This. Fucking. Shit." Several more undead found themselves more permanently at rest, as the hero continued on through the town. "Sola, I'm heading to the car! Meet me there if you can hear me!"

The words fell on deaf ears, and they were all but entirely pointless. Jake knew little of where he'd been forced to wander, and even less as to where the vehicle had been parked in the descent to chaos that had unfolded quickly that previous night; not to mention that his companion had been missing for hours.

"I just want a warm shower." Jake mumbled to no one in particular. "A warm shower, and a beer."

These were both things he'd been looking forward to when finally reaching civilization. Jake had heard that, for the price of a single silver, one might rent a room at one of the more established inns (so long as the person in question could present the sealed crest of an adventurer's guild) and take advantage of the heat magics and bathes. Not quite the same as a 21st century plumbing and water system he remembers fondly, but certainly nothing to scoff at when compared to rag wipes or bathes in those tiny creeks along the road (the likes of which smelled similar to algae and frogs.)

Indeed, on his quest for a warm room and a warm bath, should our hero have found himself signed and enlisted as official adventurer, this mission would be recommended only for the most experienced. With unwavering bravery, Jake had charged in head-first.

"Human." A deep voice rumbled from within the darkest shadows of a building before Jake's path, causing him to turn and stare into its depths. Waiting for him there, were two deep red eyes, and rows of glistening white teeth.

"Oh." Jake's reply was less than satisfactory, even to his own ears- but the hero had a very unpleasantly long night, and was already (by his own measurements) about one-hundred and twenty percent done with the shit going on around him.

"You and your companion have dared to raise weapons against my horde." The speaker slowly emerged from the shadows, massive body roiling and twisting with skulls and limbs. Dozens of fallen ghouls combined into a terrible abomination. "The price for such transgression is death."

"Oh." The hero replied again, apparently nonplussed.

Then! Suddenly- In truly heroic fashion: Jake threw his shovel directly at the creature's face and began sprinting in the...

The...

Other direction...

Most certainly in an effort to obtain a tactical advantage, of course! Yes, his legs were a blur beneath him as he rushed down the streets, eyes wide and arms pumping to widen his steps.

"Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh bloody fucking shit!" Jake panted heroically as a side alley behind him exploded under the might of his opponent, corpse body parts torn asunder beneath an impact of their own creation.

"YOU HOPE TO ESCAPE FROM ME HUMAN?"

The terrible chortle of laughter that followed was akin to the curdling of milk, left out in the sun to spoil. The Vile monster approached the hero with rage.

"YOUR BONES WILL BE ADDED TO MY COLLECTION!"

In his free hand, Jake fumbled with a small device, raising it above his head with rapid clicking of its intricate pieces as he continued his rapid pace, side stepping the now abundant ghouls that now reached for him form all side with guttural shrieks of hunger.

"Fuuuuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

He continued his heroic shouting, boots sliding on the cobblestone underfoot as he pulled a sharp right turn towards a flashing of light.

The Car! But of course, as all true heroes, Jake had planned carefully- prepared for even the most epic of battles, and what is a glorious and Honorable Knight without his trusted Steed?

"SOLA! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE'RE LEAVING!"

Once again John shouted to his companion, ever vigilant for her return, not doubting for a moment that she was still in good health-

"Who am I fucking kidding, she's probably bone-meal by now."

Ahem-

NOT doubting for a moment that she might have possibly survived the terrible onslaught that had beset them upon entering the town. Jake rushed to the door of his vehicle, hopping in an reaching back for the weapon at hand, turning just in time to witness the beast that trailed reach within ten paces of him.

"YOUR TIME HAS COME!"

"FUCKING SHIT-" Our hero shrieked, "DIE YOU BASTARD!"

With a noble shout, Jake's weapon spit lead and fire. Once- Twice, Thrice: Four times it did bark its cursed force of power, and four gaping holes did erupt for the Great Ghoul's head. With a screech of disbelief, it crashed heavily to the ground below, rotten pieces scattering with a terrible slush of pulped gore.

Jake then Heroically vomited out the driver's side window of his noble steed, just in time to witness his companion's return. Warmly, she greeted him with a twirl of her shovel and a dignified bow.

"Fucking Zombies. Am I right?" Truly magic words, in their own rights.

Thus, our chosen Hero and champion regally puked once more, gesturing with a single finger raised in perfect and regal salute of respect and friendship for the ages past, and those yet to arrive.

"Just get in the god-damn car Sola."