I went about 7 words over the limit, please forgive me my lords.
It was in a port town that I was walking around, on a fine sunday; while all of the priests were readying their sermons, I was gargling down the latter half of my rum flask. I saw the regular people, the impoverished scrounging around scrap barrels outside of taverns, and I didn’t feel sympathy, I felt drunk. That was when I got a tap on my shoulder, a proper lookin’ lad with a smug look on his face. “Hey lol follow me lol” I shrugged, yet his words struck me profoundly, and said confusedly “Okay then...”. That’s when he led me to a Tortuga graveyard, swarming with the undead. I asked simply “Why’d you take me he” “*re” “*?” he responded with a simple “idk lol look at the zombies” he motioned to the poor undead bastards, mouths hanging open, soul gone. Not until he motioned me to a particular one, however. “Look at that one lol” I witnessed it, and was horrified. I’d seen plenty of undead, but none like this eldritch horror. It was standing perfectly straight… In mid air. I made an attempt to disguise my fear “lol” I uttered, with a shaking voice. That’s when he, Sam Calleskull was his name, god rest his soul, charged at it. I tried to stop him unsuccessfully, only managing to say “lol, get him.” before the lad was at the monster’s behest. It was around ten levels too high for him. I offered him much support “RIP you’re dead” and tried to assist him “You’re on your own lol”, but my fear held me back. I saw his blows falter, and then stop… The poor lad was dead. At first, I was furious, ready to avenge Sam, but I faltered. I said into the void “Well that went well lol” showing my fear. And soon, I ran.