An hour of running in no particular direction. He stopped occasionally as his stamina gave out, but within moments the yellow bar representing his fatigue levels would climb to full and he’d be free to sprint again. Dashing his feet against rocks or branches, stepping in lord knows what -- squishy and wet. He dared not stop, on the off chance that he was being followed by more than spiders.

He leapt over dips in the ground and hopped over fallen logs and tree stumps. Finally he slowed down after coming to a small, twisting path amidst the blackness of the forest. He felt windswept, the sensation of travel against his skin, as brisk as the cold night air. The halfmoon hanged directly above, signaling that it was midnight. For a time he stood motionless, looking for even the slightest inkling of which direction to travel. After some minutes he picked up the faintest of indentations -- a horse hoof in the dirt. It seemed to be headed towards his left, so left is what he decided.

There was a quiet eeriness which lingered over the woods. It was as if he was the only living thing within miles. No creatures of the night making sound, no motion, no shuffling of leaves or brush. It was something he took solace in -- still he couldn’t help but feel watched. He peered out into the distance but he could see little else but trees. He pulled his cloak more tightly about him and placed his hood over his brow as he continued walking the dark path.

He’d been too caught up in flight to notice before but there was a new addition to his HUD. A small circular icon, if he had to guess it resembled an x shaped cross with barbed wire. Upon focusing on it a description appeared before him.

“Mark Of The Night Mother - ‘Out into the world of black, venture ye.’ Avoid all encounters for a short period of time. 0:59:12”

He quickly deduced that the icon represented a status buff of some sort, though he doubted the effectiveness of it. After all he’d nearly been eaten by spiders just an hour prior. He pressed on, his stomach rumbling now that the excitement had finally died down. He fiddled around in his pack and bought out the hard bread, nibbling it as he continued the path. And so he walked -- and walked -- and walked -- until finally he noticed someone standing alongside the forest path.

It was faint at first, little more than a shadow against the black of the forest trees but as he drew closer he realized the silhouette of a person idling to and fro. At times like these it was perhaps a blessing and a curse to be devoid of a light. He regretted parting with that torch so suddenly as he moved to draw closer to the person just a few dozen meters away.

“Excuse me.” He said. He was surprised at the sound of his voice. He was aware it had been some time since he’d spoken but even still the hoarse croak that echoed out into the night gave him pause.

The person was now only a couple of meters away, well within hearing distance but still they showed no sign of acknowledging his presence. He drew closer still, one hand outstretched as he moved to tap the person on their shoulder -- and that’s when the rancid smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils.

He was two steps away before he realized the gravity of his error. He stopped short as the sunken, rotting face of an undead swiveled around to meet his gaze. It’s eyes were yellowing and brown with grey pupils at the center. The color of the flesh was more akin to mud or moss and there was no moisture within the flesh to speak of, its lips shriveled well above the gumline.

He gripped his Broken Blade just in case the creature moved to strike but instead it seemed to look past him -- through him, in fact. He stood for a few more cautious moments, eyeing the shuffling undead as it swayed to and fro. If he had to guess it was an adventurer or highwayman by the leather armor it was wearing.

He slowly backed away from the creature continuing along the path set out before him, weapon at the ready. It wasn’t until he passed his third undead that he realized the “Mark Of The Night Mother” was responsible. The creatures simply didn’t see him, his existence unrecognizable to them.

“0 : 25 :42 “ The countdown timer read. Considering that he had no clue how far this path stretched he decided it would be a good idea to quicken his pace and so he began to run. He forged ahead at full speed, stopping only to catch his breath. It wasn’t long before he noticed the light of fire in the distance. He doubled his efforts to reach it before the timer expired.

“0 : 5 : 02”

He pushed his body to the limit as he ran, all the while noticing that the nearby creatures lining the pathway had begun to stir. As he rushed by they would turn, as if they could sense his presence. He could feel the brand mark on his tongue beginning to tingle as a searing hot flash of pain shot through his mouth.

More and more of the undead creatures began to appear, shuffling onto the pathway from the nearby woods -- almost as if they were being drawn to him. He was now forced to weave between more than a dozen undeads standing between himself and his goal.

As the timer neared twenty seconds he could hear the sound of shuffling in the darkness on either side of him. At ten seconds the sound of footsteps breaking out into a dash. A sense of panic began to grip his mind but he dared not look back -- not so close to his goal.

Another five meters and he would reach the nearby settlement, he could see a wooden gate from the pathway, a bastion under the night sky. Torches burned numerous and brightly, positioned along the outside of large logs which formed a barrier around the settlement.

“00:00:00” The timer blinked several times before finally disappearing and in that instant he could hear the snarling growls and fast paced footsteps of the undead running behind him. He had little choice now, he had to run no matter what!

An undead suddenly burst from the nearby bushes, its arms outstretched in an attempt to drag him down but he easily dodged without breaking stride. As he continued, two more took up position directly in front of him, there was little choice but to push through them. He decided to choose one side and barrel through, his blade at the ready in case. Luckily the creatures were terrible at changing direction and he used this to keep them at bay.

A little less than two meters now. With each step the sensation of being caged grew more real, perhaps it was his mind but he thought he could feel the heat of breath on his neck and the tugging of hands on his cloak as he ran. His lungs were about to burst as he sprinted into the torchlight of the settlement perimeter. Even then he dared not stop, he ran directly to the closed gate and banged hard with the hilt of his sword several times. He then turned to face the oncoming horde of creatures, his blade at the ready, only to find that they’d stopped chasing him.

As the large wooden gate slowly rose upwards behind him he gazed in surprise as dozens of undead creatures prowled the perimeter of the settlement. They seemed reluctant to move forward, biting and snarling at the air -- their ghoulish eyes fixed upon him by the dozens. For an instant he doubted his eyes, he was sure that a monster would come lunging at him any second -- but no attack came. Instead a very warm human hand gripped his shoulder before issuing a command.

“Get in here. We’ve got to close the gate!” The gruff voice of a man shouted.