[Valan Quinn]

Valan narrowed his eyes grimly at their laughter. He should’ve known that these ruffians would never take a command from somebody that wasn’t in their clan, much less someone that was smaller than them. At least they were with him, and that was better than nothing. Probably. He grunted and starting pacing forward.

After being led to the construction site, the swordsman stopped and eyed his surroundings. What was once a large apartment building, full of life and people, was dead. It was a charred corpse of its former self. Oddly enough, it was corpses that were preventing it’s reconstruction. The sunlight beamed down over the party, casting shadows onto the dirt and rubble. All of the equipment was left out, presumably in the place that they were left when the workers fled. Or were killed.

The article in the herald had stated that these… undead, had moved into the ruins of the city. Why? Valan was unsure. He had never seen an undead in person, and was quite unfamiliar on their habits, or even their origin. Everyone so far had been extremely vague about this situation. How many undead were there? Were they still in the buildings? How fast do they move? How do you kill them? He didn’t have a lot to work with.

Squatting down to the ground, Valan inspected the streets. He looked around for any tracks, blood, or clues to indicate where the undead have gone-if anywhere. “I see.” Valan responded coldly to the warrior’s comments. After inspecting his surroundings, the human drew his sword and nodded towards his companions to do the same. “It’s safe to ‘ssume that when these people were attacked, most, if not all, were unprepared. Let’s not make that same mistake.” He began walking again, this time towards the charred building. His pace was slow, careful. His eyes and ears were strained to notice anything unusual. A quivering drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He exhaled slowly.