Morrith rose to his feet. Before him the body of his mother lay on an old wooden bed, the straw mattress stained with blood and bile until it was more brown than yellow. The smell in the room was near overpowering, and Morrith wrinkled his nose at it. His eyes looked slowly around the room, taking in the pristine condition of everything, even the lack of dust on the dresser. He crossed the room and stepped out into the living room of his parents small stone home. Compared to the bedroom it looked like someone had thrown an explosive alchemical mix. The wooden dining table was overturned and blackened with what looked like soot, but the table itself was oddly unburned. On the stone oven a skillet sat, filled with a black sludge that had once been food. A horse whinnied outside, more a shriek than Morrith had ever heard a horse make, and he sprinted to the door, kicking it open and stepping out into the quickly darkening streets. His sword near leapt into his hand as he watched his horse drug to the ground, zombies scrambling over each other for a taste of it’s warm flesh.