The Curse of the Rumiirua(Being the journal of Jebidiah Halfwitch)

I lost my entire family to those damn things. Let’s get that out of theway right now. My wife, my three children, even my hunting dog. Later, mybrother as well… I know his wife will never forgive me, dragging her maninto my madness and rage. I lost everything, including my soul, whichwasn’t doing me all that much good anyhow, truth to tell.

Rumiirua, they call them. And it’s as good a name for those thricedamned sons of whores as any, I figure. But even so, these aren’t like mostUndead. If you’ve been around Tamriel at all, you’ve probably seen yourfair share of critter and beast, or heard tell of them at least. Dark days, sothey say. Animated skeletons aren’t so troublesome a thing. Neither arenormal Undead. They’re mostly dumb; they don’t travel in numbers toolarge, and are not so fearsome. There are a variety of ways to take one out.Typically, a Mage has set a few on a mission of a personal nature. Once thatmission’s complete, they usually just drop back to the dirt. If not, well like Isaid, if you know what you’re up against and prepared, they’re just not tooFormidable.

Rumiirua are nothing like that. First off, most of them are still full ofmeat. That’s the thing, see? You smell them first. All that rancid, rottingmeat. And you don’t know where they are or how many. You just knowthey’re close. And that puts the fear into you. That fear combined with thesmell and all the other people in the vicinity panicking… it’s easy to loseyour self in the chaos.

That’s when the attack comes, coordinated and precise. These thingshave still got their wits about them. Well, mostly. Like I said, these are notnormal Undead. These move with a purpose born of something personal.You can tell there is some coherent thought left. And you’ve never seenvicious until you’ve seen these things move as one.

My name’s Jebediah Halfwitch. There’s a story behind the familyname, but that’s a tale for another day. And someone else will have to tell it.This story, assuming I get to finish it, is about what happened that night.And what I’ve done since. Some of it’s true, those parts I witnessed myself.Some of it is speculation, parts that other more imaginative people havethought up, or heard from still others. But it may as well be true. You canbelieve or not. I don’t care much one way or the other. By the time anyonefinds this, I’ll likely be worm food. But you would do well to listen, for I’vefound their weakness.

Magic folk; wizards, mages, necromancers and the like, they say thereare other worlds. Worlds beyond counting. And they say there are doorwaysbetween worlds that can be traveled through, if you have the keys, that is.I’ve never witnessed such, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. They tell ofworlds what have strange square buildings climbing so high into the sky theyget lost in the clouds. Worlds that have flying machines. Worlds with citiesup in the clouds, where people travel between the stars faster than light ingiant ships. I don’t believe all that, but I guess you just never know, do you?

Story I heard, there was a very powerful, very evil sorcerer from someother world. Eternia, he called it, a strange and wonderful place of bothscience and magic. A noble name, I reckon. But evil can come from goodlands, and good can come from wicked places, so they say. Well if there’seven a lick of truth to it, this sorcerer might just redefine evil. Not the kindof evil of gods and demons. No, I mean the darker evil of mortal ambitioncombined with a sociopathic lack of empathy or any consideration for one’sfellow man.

This sorcerer was committed to total domination of his own world,but had emissaries and apprentices that would conquer other worlds in hisname. That’s where Mannimarco comes in. Maybe you’ve heard that name,if you’ve journeyed through much of Tamriel, that is. Mannimarco was oneof his apprentices, and well on his way to conquering this world.

I won’t bore you with history you probably already know. He camevery close to succeeding and was waging his endgame against to Mages Guild.Which at that time, would have been the last bastion of hope. His arrogancecost him his victory. He engaged in a direct confrontation with both thearchmage Trabonius Artorius and his successor, the archmage HannibalTraven. Together they brought him down and believed the realm to safe,with his passing. They even displayed his head on a spike outside theirtemple as both a warning and a trophy.

That was the end of the conflict, until the sorcerer learned of hisapprentice’s defeat. Upon hearing of the loss of Tamriel to his empire, hecursed to land to destroy not just those who stood against his plan, but alloccupants of the realm. First he slaughtered an army, and then cast a spellreanimating the dead. He set his zombie army out across the land gatheringnumbers to their rank as they went on a journey of hundreds of miles to theMage’s Guild. You see, the zombie army was just the beginning. Any whowere killed by the zombies, the Rumiirua to be precise, would bereanimated themselves and join the march to Mage’s Guild.

That’s the story. The Legend, if you will. And like all legends, justenough truth mixed in with the bullshit to keep everyone believing andrepeating it. I suppose the origin of the monsters doesn’t matter all thatmuch. I’d heard the stories of a zombie army just outside Skyrim. Didn’tpay it much heed. Till it came ripping through the walls of my home that is.

We were having supper when we first smelled the stench. Then weheard the noises; groans. Then we heard the screaming off in the distance.From the farmhouse adjacent to ours, the Jarobsons. I later learned thatthey all died. Well, maybe died isn’t quite right. It was Makiia Jarobsonhimself who ate my wife’s face. Damn all the gods to hell. I can still see thelook in her eyes in her last minutes when she believed I would be able tosave her. I need a minute.

Ok, like I said, we were having supper. I sat at the table with my twoboys and my daughter. Thomas, 14. Gregory, 13. And Meagan at 11.Clover was under the table at my feet waiting for scraps. Amelia had justbrought the food to the table. At first we joked about the smell being hersupper. I hold onto that memory. The 5 of us laughing, sitting together.Happy. Enjoying each other’s company. It was short lived, for I realized asthe smell grew so much stronger so quickly that something was very wrong.I was just about to give voice to my concerns when we heard the firstscreams.

What happened then I cannot bear to relate in all of its detail.The pain is too near. But I will summarize:

I took hold of my sword. As I only own the one, my boys grabbedgarden tools to wield in defense. And out into the night we strode. Ready toseek out the danger and defend the homestead. In the dying evening light Icould make out Constance, my neighbors wife, on the far end of my field,struggling with a group of attackers as she tried to make it to the safety ofmy home. I wondered why she left her home and where her husbandMakiia was.

I told my boys wait there at the door and ran out into my field, Cloverpacing me at my side. As her attackers surrounded her and threw her to theground, I believed I knew the nature of the attack and thought to rush inbeheading the closest one and thus discouraging the rest, and hold them atbay until Makiia joined me. It was then that I saw them tearing off not justher clothing but her flesh. I was half way to her rescue when they tore intoher stomach and began pulling out her intestines. She was screaming likeI’ve never heard anything scream before, but I’ve heard it many times since.I stopped and stood frozen in horror. Some of them began eating her guts,others seemed to just be watching and enjoying the show. I could not move.I began to truly see her attackers for the first time. Some seemed normalenough. Others were missing pieces. Others had their own guts hanging out.Others looked as if they had been exhumed from a grave and given new life,

born again if you will. I could see rancid, mucid flesh hanging where limbsshould be. I could see empty eye sockets. I began vomiting where I stood,much of it splattering my pants and boots. Constance kept screaming.There was no sanity in that scream. Only blind agony.

Clover shot off into the fray, barking and growling as he ran. Helaunched himself at the closest one, the one I had planned on beheading,and knocked him to his side. I couldn’t see what happened to him but theyelps were telling enough. He was a good dog. You have to raise them frompups for them to be that loyal. It would take a good amount of time toreplace him, train another. I actually remember thinking that.

I finally turned and began running back to my home where my boysstood with scythes and sickles just outside the door. I’d left Constancescreaming, bleeding out into my wheat. Clover as well. I felt no guilt. Myonly thought was of my family. I ordered my boys in and told them to lockdown everything. Doors were barred, shutters were locked. Barricades wereset up. I tried to explain the situation to them but probably didn’t makemuch sense. What about the situation did I really understand? I saw myAmelia eyeing the vomit on my boots, which were giving off an acidic smell.Saw the horror on her face as she realized the extent of the danger. Iordered her and Meagan upstairs to hide. My reasoning being that if thelocks and barricades were unsuccessful, if my boys and I failed, we couldstill retreat upstairs. We could exit through a window and drop down theporch’s overhang and flee into the night. My wife wanted for all of us tohide in the cellar. In my head, I was going to protect our home. I knownow the home was irrelevant, and those in the home were everything. I’msure I knew it then too, but pride was in the way of clear thinking. Fear also.Looking back, I wonder if they would still be alive if we had done whatAmelia wanted. My dear sweet Amelia, missing half her face.

At the time it must have felt like a heroic battle. My boys and Idefending the home. My wife and daughter safe upstairs. I was an idiot. Idon’t know how long it took them to break in. Minutes probably. Theysurrounded the house and began pummeling doors and windows, breakingthrough sturdy wood and iron latches. Much of my rage and adrenalinedissipated when the first arm reached through the broken window shutters.I sliced it off cleanly at the elbow and did not faze the attacker in the least.My boys eyes grew wide in fear. Suddenly arms were everywhere.Reaching in, pulling boards out. Sword, sickle and scythe swinging withabandon. Limbs and blood and gore covering everything, soaking into thefloorboards. And still they pressed on. Nothing would deter them.

I realized it was a futile effort and was just about to enact our retreatand forfeit the house when one of them grabbed Gregory, my youngest. Iheard him yell and turned to look just in time to see two of the attackerswrench his head from his shoulders. I went numb. I stood there, seeing butnot understanding. It was Amelia who reacted. She saw from the top of thestairs. She ran down the narrow flight and shot across the room withunbelievable speed, stole Gregory’s head away from the two undead leaningthrough our window, and began trying to re-attach it to his lifeless body. Itmay sound absurd, but it was more than I could do. I was still standingwhere I was, watching the horror unfold around me. I could hear weeping.I could hear her telling Gregory it would be ok. I saw the hands reaching forher from behind. Hands that belonged to Makii of all people. He was dead.One of his eyes was missing. There was a line of drool hanging from hismouth. One of his hands reached into her mouth, grabbed on for all it wasworth and began pulling with inhuman strength.

As half her face and scalp were pulled away, the paralysis finallybroke. I ran to her and pulled her away from the rancid things invading ourhome, one of whom was my neighbor. I had helped him deliver a calf, forgod’s sake. And now as I looked back he slowly brought the scrap ofAmelia’s beautiful face and hair to his mouth and began chewing. I carriedher upstairs yelling for Thomas to follow me. I remember him asking about

Gregory but I don’t remember answering him. I remember carrying Ameliadown the hall and into our bedroom, Thomas and Meagan close behind.I remember locking and barricading our door while my two remainingchildren looked after their mother who was fading fast.

“What do I do?”, Thomas yelled. I had no answer for him. I kneltdown before her and held her hands. She looked at me and I have no ideaif she really saw me, but there was an intensity in her eyes like she was tryingto convey something. It could just be wishful thinking. Like I said, she wasfading fast, bleeding out. There were no final words. No “I love you”. Justcoughing and gurgling blood and sputtering. And that look in her eyes.Then she was gone. Just gone. An exhale and no inhale following it. Meaganbegan crying. Thomas looked to me to see what to do, but again I had noanswer for him. My wife was dead on the floor in front of me. My youngestson dead downstairs. I had no answers.

That was when the pounding on the door began. I knew we didn’t havelong. I began to prepare for our escape, quickly gathering a few items wewould need on the road. They began to tear through the wood and I movedto push the dresser back in place reinforcing it, yelling for my children tograb the few items I’d gathered and climb out the window. That was whenAmelia woke up. It was not Amelia anymore of course. But I didn’t knowthat. For the briefest of moments I was so happy. I had been wrong. Shewasn’t dead after all. Then she grabbed Meagan and buried her ruined faceinto Meagan’s neck and began chewing. With a large chunk of Meagan’sflesh between her teeth, she jerked her head back violently, ripping tendon,tissue, and the carotid artery. Blood sprayed the room with an unbelievablepressure. Thomas was drenched in it. I began to scream “No”! It was all Iseemed capable of. Repeating it over and over.

I moved to pull Meagan away from Amelia and my wife began togrowl at me. I threw Meagan in Thomas’s arms telling him to back up,which of course was terrible advice. I turned to face my wife. I could see inher eyes it was no longer her. There was nothing but an evil hatredemanating from them. I understood what had to be done. Thomas did not.I took up my sword and brought it down through her skull, separating thehalf of her face with skin from the half without. Thomas began screaming.I stood there panting and turned to face Thomas just in time to see handsburst through the door he had backed up against and grab him. He droppedMeagan and screamed as he was pulled though the broken door. I rushed tolook through the doorway but already the hall was too crowded with theundead to see him. But I could hear just fine as they were eating him alive.Screaming for me to help him for what seemed an eternity. That word willhaunt me for as long as I go on. Dad. Screamed though the lips of a son Icould not help. Over and over. I recall the first time he said dad when hewas learning to talk. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Now itwas the sound of nightmares.

I looked down at where Meagan lay on the floor. She had also passed.She took her last breath lying at my feet and I hadn’t even noticed. I was toobusy listening to Thomas scream “Dad”.

I can’t tell you how much I wish I had just sat down and held Meaganin my arms and waited for them to take me too. I have no idea why I didn’t.No idea why I climbed out the window, dropped to the ground and ranaway. But run away I did. It’s all a blur. I really don’t remember any otherdetails until waking up in my brother Isaac’s home just outside Whiteruntwo days later. It’s a days journey to the small village where he lived and Imust have run the entire way. He told me I was delirious, dehydrated andcovered in blood when I arrived.

I told my story and passed back out. Apparently he rode to my farmsaw for himself the devastation. Upon waking again, I asked questions hewouldn’t answer. He simply said it was as I had described. He gathered allthe men from his village and held a meeting at his home. Relaying all thedetails I’d given him to the others while I just sat and listened. Many ofthem had also seen firsthand the grisly remains. He wasn’t the only one toinvestigate it seems.

A man named Johnson Russio filled in many details of what he calledthe Rumiirua. He said the story and warning had been given to him by acampfire one night by a strange traveler by the name of Keldor. HowKeldor came by this information or what he knew of their march to theMages Guild, I have no idea. Neither did Russio for that matter. But all Iknow of the Rumiirua and their journey comes from Russio. So for what’swrong, blame him.

It was agreed that we would set out with many fighters and weaponsand destroy them to protect the village. As I write this now I realize howstupid it sounds. But realize, it was a room full of bravado and men whowould not show their fear. As well as more then a little alcohol. And I wastoo numb to care.

Understand this. The Rumiirua had already passed the village. Theywere heading (North), presumably to the Mages Guild, and just happenedto pass through my land. This village was a couple miles to the west. Theywere safe. For the moment anyhow.

We picked up their back trail the next day and went after them. Mybrother’s wife Sarah begged him not to go, but he told her the family mustbe avenged. The look she gave me spoke volumes.

After a long journey we found them in the next village to the northabout 30 miles on. A great slaughter ensued, some of which I witnessed.Most of which I can only imagine, but in all fairness, having witnessed thethings I have, I believe my imagination is sufficient. Yours will have to be aswell. I had intended to write of the battle in as much detail as the attack onmy home but realize now there would be no point. A great number of mendied, most of which stood up and joined the ranks of the undead soon after.Much blood. Much viscera. Screaming and wailing. It seemed to go onforever. The men were not prepared to fight an enemy that couldn’t be hurt.They would deliver killing blows and the Rumiirua would not even react toit. They never stop. They never tire. They march. They devour. And theirnumbers increase with every man that resists them.

I can tell you I saw my brother devoured. He died saving me. Ourmodest group of would-be soldiers had been overwhelmed. My brother andI were attempting to retreat. We rounded a corner and the Rumiirua wereupon me. I had nothing left and was ready to let them take me. Isaacjumped between us and shoved me away. He looked into my eyes withoutfear and spoke his last words in this life. He said “Run, brother”, and thenthey tore him open. It saddens me all the more because he died for nothing.There’s nothing here worth saving, wouldn’t be even if I weren’t dying. Theonly part of me worth anything died with my family back at the farmhouse.But the rest of me will catch up very soon. I was bitten. And now dark blacklines of infection travel up my arm. I don’t know if the bite itself is whatturns people, or if all that die now join the Rumiirua. But I won’t risk iteither way. I won’t join the march to the Mages Guild. Not if I can preventit.

I should tell you I also saw Meagan and Thomas. This was beforeIsaac’s death. There was nothing left of my children. They were devouringvillagers dispassionately. I managed to cut them down, as Isaac looked on.He knew it was something I had to do myself. I took their heads off. That’sthe trick. Gutting them, taking limbs, it accomplishes nothing. You have totake the head. Which I discovered accidentally when cutting down my poor

Amelia. And this is why Gregory didn’t return of course.

The battle is over now. All the villagers are dead. The Rumiirua ranksswelled to twice their previous number, and now they move on toward theMages. I escaped the fate of the rest of them by pretending to be dead, lyingunderneath a few corpses.

I have to get home you see. That’s what I’m doing now. I have thebodies of Meagan and Thomas in a cart, and I’m trying to get back homebefore the infection takes me. I’m still a couple miles away. I expect to findAmelia and Gregory still in the house. Once I’m home and we’re alltogether again, I will pour oil all over the house, my family and myself.And I will light us on fire with a thankful heart. Our deaths will be of restand peace. That is my only hope, that the fire will purify me and cleanse mysins. That it will consume me so completely, that there will be no body leftto rise again once I am dead.

It occurs to me now as I walk home pulling the bodies of my deadchildren, that Amelia was right. We should have hid in the cellar.

This is my last rest before setting out on the last leg of my journey. Iam in an old, abandoned temple in Whiterun. I have sat here for the lastcouple hours, gathering my strength and writing all this down. I have spokenmy confession to the darkness and the dust, in the shadow of a brokencross. I seek no absolution. I will leave this journal here in front of the altar.I will leave it for my sister in law, in the hopes that someone finds it anddelivers it to her.

I’m sorry for your husband, Sarah. My brother. Isaac. He was trulynoble and should not have died. Certainly not for me. I know I have failedall those that meant anything to me, and look forward to the release of Hell.If you should come across my family in the next life, tell them I’m sorry.Tell them that I love them so much and that I miss them. I hope they’re ina much better place now. Better than where I’m going.

I’m so sorry.

I am so very sorry.

The End