The Fae enchanted his instrument to float and to keep playing, so he was free to wander the room. As he passed the various enthralled patrons, he’d pinch or poke them, though one guy he gave a proper punch, for no other reason than he could.

  —---

  Our Hero faced the horde with shield and blade,

  Within the killing ground, the tunnel had made,

  Every one killed, two more would appear,

  The never ending numbers, he’d begun to fear,

  To the point that even the harps song,

  Wasn’t enough to make him strong,

  With every swing his tiredness grew,

  With every undead, he once again slew,

  With every step he was forced to step back,

  With every skull that fell with a thwack,

  With every zombie whose brain was pulverised,

  His blades grace and shields protection was minimised,

  Even his hardened skin started to fail,

  From all the blows upon it that did wail,

  To the harps rhythm he had started to misstep,

  The burning ever growing within each bicep,

  Wishing that the fight was about finish,

  Did not seem to make their numbers wane or diminish,

  For what felt like hours but was barely one,

  The battle was over and suddenly done,

  With an eye on the tunnel he collapsed and rested,

  Until his breathing was steady and uncontested,

  To make sure things were truly safe,

  He got up even though muscles did chafe,

  Every skull he went past he crushed under heel,

  Every zombies head he saw he pierced again with his steel,

  Every corpse was a testament to his new skills,

  Every sign of battle gave him an increasing case of the chills,

  Every one was a person that was once living elsewhere,

  Condemning his arrival with their unnaturally still stare.

  Deeper he went make sure they were all truly dead,

  Until he found the mages temporary homestead,

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  At the end of side tunnel was a small alcove,

  The walls marked with the spells the mage wove,

  The stench of death was a thick miasma,

  The wouldn’t be removed even with burning magma,

  A circle of runes was burnt into the wall,

  Just looking at it, he felt his soul pull,

  Whatever this was, was evil indeed,

  He had to ensure that this place was freed,

  So with his sword he stuck the markings,

  That caused more than a few sparkings,

  The circle flared with the colours of the rainbow,

  Entirely ethereal lights spread their glow,

  Accompanied by voices speaking all at the same time,

  The world slowed as if it was moving through thick slime,

  The circle was broken and its magic was loose,

  The light coalesced into a giant, world surrounding noose,

  Words of times long since past,

  Words of calamities that didn’t last,

  Words of horrors still out there,

  Words of futures without any care,

  Words of everything overlapping it all,

  Until his consciousness decided to fall,

  Within the darkness the voices said,

  Much more until the lights were finally dead,

  Yet our Hero remembers not a lot,

  As his memories of the light were all shot,

  Waking up woozy and a bit unsteady,

  He took his time until his head was ready,

  It was time to return to the mayor,

  As a certified undead slayer,

  Content in the fact that he’d helped out,

  Gave his step some spring and clout,

  Easily making his way back to town,

  Nothing could make him feel bad or down.

  —---

  Through the gates of Hell the ladies were scrying,

  Upon one such gnome the spell was spying,

  Traces of the unknown magic swirled around,

  Coating everything from the walls to the ground,

  This fellow was not the cause but was a victim,

  They followed the trail back to find who cast that upon him.