Previously, in Urban Druid #1, Scarmander Torq, the Urban Druid, is on the case of the “Babe of Babylon”, a 5000 year old golden statue stolen by robosapiens from The Parodiopolis Museum. Following the trail he finds himself in an enclosed alley in Old Town. Zombie Alley in fact.

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Scarmander Torq, also known as the Urban Druid, swore under his breath. He had been so caught up in following the trail of the Robosapiens suspected of stealing the famed Golden Babe from the Parodiopolis Museum that he hadn’t realised he was down this particular alleyway in Old Town until it was too late. Three zombies shambled their way towards him, cutting off the only exit from the alley.

This wasn’t just any old alleyway. Strange glowing pentagrams and voodoo marking scratched onto the crumbling brickwork of the buildings gave that away. He had entered into the heart of the territory of the zombies of Old Town. Torq cursed to himself for slipping up so. Sometimes he became too caught up in the trail that he was oblivious to all else.

He quickly scanned the situation as the three undead, moaning for his brains, shuffled their way towards him. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a length of metal piping, gripping it tightly in his gloved hands.

“Alright boys, let’s get ready to rumble!” the twenty-something snarled to the zombies as they enclosed in on him. A briefest scan towards the sky, as if he was looking for something, brought a grin to his face and he quickly turned back to the horrors which were now less than a metre away.

As if on cue a piercingly shrill bird call filled the air. Ornithologists would recognise the call as that of a Peregrine Falcon, and indeed with a swiftness that almost defied belief a bird of that very species swooped down into the alley and proceed to attack on one of the zombies directly, scratching at its face with sharpen talons.

This was Frodo, Torq’s animal companion. The falcon was well adapted to city life using the sky-scrapers of Parodiopolis as his roost while feeding on pigeons and small rodents and other mammals that infest the city.

At the same moment the bird cried, Torq jumped into action, literally.

Using his expertise in gymnastics and parkor he scrambled towards the wall closest to one of the shuffling undead, jumping ONTO the wall he BACKFLIPED and came crushing into the zombie’s head hard with his feet as he turned – instantaneously spinning now in the moment before gravity pulled him down and with his feet either side of the ghoulish head he dragged the zombie over with his momentum and body weight.

At the same time he landed, he spun and whacked the zombie in the head with the pipe – giving a sickening crack that broke its neck, almost severing the head completely – another follow through with the metal pipe finished the job leaving a pulpy mash on the ground which suddenly disintegrated into black ash.

Torq then turned to assess the situation with the other zombies. Frodo was assailing one of the zombies with his talons, keeping it occupied.

The third was still shambling towards the Urban Druid with a crooked head. “Braaaainnns!” it slobbered, grinning at him fiendishly through a lipless mouth.

“Yeah right,” the young druid snarled, “not tonight dead-eye.”

He hurled the pipe straight for the zombie’s head with all his might. Spinning through the air several times it caught the undead right between the eyes, making a grotesque slurping noise as it penetrated dead flesh and bone. The zombie slumped backwards and fell, turning to black ash as before it hit the ground, the pipe clanging as it fell.

Wasting no time he drew a dark curved blade from his backpack. It was a scimitar with strange runes along it. They were glowing with a soft green light in the darkness of the alley.

He jumped and ran now, at a pace direct for the zombie. It grinned its ghoulish smile at him opening its arms to catch him with a deathly embrace. At the last moment he suddenly dropped and rolled, somersaulting underneath the rotted flesh he jumped up and span around, gripping his scimitar tightly he span and – in an instant – severed the head clean from the body. As with the previously two zombies it disintegrated into black ash almost instantaneously.

“Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” screeched Frodo as he flew higher in a shrill warning call.

Scarmander cursed again, loudly this time, and tensed. “Alright, where is your master?” he spoke to the ashes. “You may as well show yourself, I know you are here.”

Indeed, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, goose flesh response on his body giving him a clear indication that undead danger was about.

All the same he gave a small jump of fright despite himself, as a French accented voice replied almost so close that he could feel the foul breath on his neck.

“I told you not to trouble my realm with your presence again little man.” The speaker of the shadows spoke slowly, insultingly.

Scarmander turned to address the man now standing behind him. “Letuvu Se-Se M’butu” he said with disgust. “The Zombie Prince,” he gripped his scimitar tightly. There was a history between these two.

M’butu was a big brute of a man, strange and colourful feathers adorned his arms and shoulders, neck and head. Otherwise he was simply dressed in black skin-tight leggings. Bright paint was on his face. He laughed at Scarmander.

“You were warned little man,” he sneered. “Yet here I find you, all alone.” He grimaced and cracked his knuckles.

“No,” a young girl’s voice suddenly spoke out loudly from behind the Zombie Prince. “Not alone.”

Catching him by surprise she plunged the pointed dagger quickly into the Zombie Prince’s lower back, piercing a kidney, it came right through the other side.

Scarmander Torq stared in shock as the dagger was hoiked up internally slicing through the Zombie Prince into his heart. He barely had time to gurgle a bloody curse before he fell forward – dead.

Unlike the zombies, he didn’t evaporate. Blood oozed from his wound onto the alley.

“Oww!” exclaimed the girl. “That hurt,” she shook her hand quickly “Even though I can’t feel pain. That still hurt!”

She was dressed like a goth in a black lace dress with black leggings, her raven hair fell messily over her shoulders, her face pale except for dark circles around her eyes.

Frodo flew down and perched on an old brick sticking out from one of the walls. Watching the discussion with bird-like disinterest.

“You’re Urthula Underess,” Torq recognised. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your cute bubble butt from becoming zombie food it seems,” the party ghoul didn’t miss a beat. She removed the dagger from the Zombie Prince’s corpse, wiping it off on the edge of her skirt. She kicked the dead voodoo priest between the legs for good measure.

“He’s not going to stay dead for long,” she told Scarmander. “So you’d better follow me.”

Scarmander looked confused. “Follow you where?” he queried.

“Down there.” The dead girl pointed to a sewer grate, partly covered by dust. “Be a dear and help me lift that grate. It’s where the mechanical men who stole the Babe of Babylon went, so you’re going to want to go down there anyway.”

“How do you know that?” Torq queried suspiciously. If he knew one thing it was not to follow an undead girl down a sewer willy-nilly.

Urthula rolled her dead eyes. “The Abyssal Greye sent me to help you U.D.,” she answered, calling him by the initials of his non de plume. “He has reason to want the statue returned as much as you do.”

The young man paused for a moment and nodded. Even though he had sworn a sacred oath to destroy undead, it didn’t extend to the Abyssal Greye or the Ghouls under Gothametropolis. In fact, he had an arrangement and an agreement with Dean Greye. Written in blood and signed under the Sacred Oak in the old way. They were both bound by it.

He sheathed his scimitar and picked up the discarded pipe, putting it back into its socket on his backpack also. Moving over to the grate he bent down and shifted it aside, revealing a ladder leading down into a darkened tunnel.

“Me first,” Urthula moved through to the tunnel. “That way I can watch your butt as you come down after,” she winked. Torq shuddered.

Looking up at Frodo he whistled a high note, the bird flew off. “You can’t follow me down here buddy,” Torq whispered to himself. “Though I have no idea what I’m about to get into.” He followed the goth ghoul girl down the ladder into the tunnel.

To be continued...maybe. I mean that’s all I really can remember of the original plot.