Sebastian

The atmosphere inside the pub was stifling. Pipe smoke rose and interlaced with the smoke from the lanterns and candles lit to aid the ambience of the interior. Drunken soldiers stumbled and stuppled their way from their tables to the bar, to order more alcohol. Though, an incorrigible soldier seemed to ignore most of this. Sir Sebastian Lockwood sat in a corner booth, with his feet up on the table. The irrepressible man had his friends, and his beer. His life was going great.

“Aha! That was a grand performance Sebastian, never have I seen such an act of false bravado!” Sebastian mock bowed. “It was easy, please, take notes. I just payed off the other combatants to fall off their horses at the right time! Now I'm famous, and I'm the number one pick for the princess's hand.” He raised his tankard to his lips, and drank deeply.

He had earned that right by winning the tournament, beating every challenger (honestly or not), and securing himself the right of champion of the entire kingdom.

Sebastian lived like a king, every girl on his arm, every drink in his hand. Until, that is, the day his true colors were shown, in the face of horror.

Being the glib person he was, he often enough went to the pub, where he would get himself a beer, and listen to everyone cheer him on. Though his friends were starting to get slightly annexed with his fickleness. “Sebastian, maybe you should actually START trainin' or somethin', you know, jus' in case somethin' bad actually does 'appen.” Sebastian looked nonplussed. “Bah! We're in peace Murray, what could happen? Besides, who would try anything with me” He smiled roguishly “as champion? “

At that precise moment, everything bad happened that could possibly happen. Three men charged into the pub at the same moment, almost getting stuck in the door. Each of them were yelling out indecipherable words over each other. “ZOMBIES! THEY'RE ATTAC... WARLOCKS! THEY'RE DESTROYI... GIANT TROLL-DRAGON! IT'S ATTAC...” The nonplussible Sebastian was starting to get plussed. His glinting smile closed, and he attempted to shrink back into his chair, half hoping it would swallow him up. Everyone in the pub looked at him, most believing him able to grapple with twice as many. His friends, being the great friends they were, grabbed him, and dragged him outside. Sebastian gulped.

Once outside, everything he had feared deep down had come true. Zombies had overrun the guards at the gate, and were slowly spreading out like melting butter. Warlocks were blasting fire and ice upon any fool enough to show themselves, and the Troll-Dragon was just standing there, somewhat complacently trying to find something to smash (they were short-sighted to a fault). Murray layed sarcasm on thick to his “friend”. “So, the grea' and inexorable Sebastian, wha's yer plan?” Sebastian was beginning to panic. “I know! I'll get the guards!”

Although, the guards weren't overly fond of the idea of Sebastian hiding there while they went to fight the threats. They knew that afterwards, he would manage to scrounge up all the credit. They fitted him with armor, and a sword. They thrust him outside, hoping that he would die before the majority of the populance.

Just their luck, the skies opened into a torpid deluge. Sebastian began to panick, as zombies began to come into view. Warlocks set fire onto houses and trees, and the fearsome Troll-Dragon began to see things to smash. Inexplicably, they were all moving towards the pressible Sebastian, and he didn't like it.

The Troll-Dragon reached him first, in all its hideousness. Its face was horribly scrunched up, with horns and two noses. Sebastian knew that he could never win in a true fight, he usually just hired people to look beat up for him. The Troll-Dragon attempted to squash the coward under his rather large feet, but Sebastian managed to quake enough to shift himself entirely around. The zombies came next, in all their green fleshy horror. Sebastian attempted to raise his sword, but his arms had become useless. Strange enough, it was the warlocks that saved him. They picked him up, and carried him back to the sulphurous pits they lived in.

Once there, and after he woke from his faint, he found himself chained upright to a stone wall. Dampness creaped into his clothes (since they had taken his armor off). After he shook off the groggyness, for a second, he attempted to convince himself that it was all a dream. But, after his eyes readjusted, he saw scads of zombies, who were slowly shuffling towards him, looking ravenously at him.

He screamed.