Move
-
Ghoulish Stats
"Ain't no rest for the wicked until we close our eyes for good."
Name: Abiodun Nwanmama
Alias: Match Eddy
Nicknames: Ghoul, Zombie, Stupid, Lazy
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Species: Spotted Hyena
Subspecies: Undead Ghoul
Homeland: The Vastness of The Lost Veldt
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 148lbs.
Body Type: Emaciated
Hair: Black
Eyes: One brown eye
Fur: Tawny with dark brown and black markings...mostly
Physical Markings: Loads of scars, patches of different animals sewn on
Clothing: Whatever he can scavenge
Languages: Veldtese, Common
Literate: No
Marital Status: Forever alone
Sexuality: Uhhh, that would be necrophilia
Likes: Stealing, brains
Dislikes: Being undead, manual labor, parts that don't match -
Spooky Background
Ove looked to the coffin curiously when it was dragged in after his opponent and then up to the hyena, unsure of whether or not he should ask. Then the odd hyena started throwing weapons aside and he made a mental note not to move in that direction, as to avoid the risk of stepping on one of the rusted blades during the fight. "Ja? You're sure?" Ove asked, unsure himself, simply because the other fighter seemed weary of being there. If an encouraging response was given, the viking rushed towards the zombie and aimed to slice through one of his sides with one of his weapons...
So while I am being stabbed with a seax (that's some sort of knife by the way), let me tell you my story. Oh, and don't worry. I won that fight. But we'll get to that after my tale.
My father always told me, "Boy, you're dumb as a mule and twice as ugly. You will amount to nothing." Usually before beating me with something. I guess he was right. I have never had a girlfriend, was never what people would call smart with my favorite childhood game being given a piece of paper with "Please turn over" written on both sides and it would amuse me for hours.
So I am a dummy. Big deal.
Oh, and currently I am dead. Well, let me rephrase. Undead. That's probably the most interesting thing about me. Now how I got this way is probably due to life I chose. See, with no real skills other than chronic masturbation and stealing; the job market wasn't quite panning out. Since sperm banks are still a few centuries from being a thing, I figured I would make thievery my go-to for riches.
Most of the time I worked alone, like a lone wolf, without a pack, by himself. Other times I would join with groups of bandits in the whole pillaging and rhyming with grape thing. In one particular village where I was selling knock-off health elixirs (semen, see, masturbation is a useful talent) I got wind of someone named Mama Black who was told to have vast riches, living like a hermit in a hut out in the Vastness all by herself.
An easy target, right?
Well, not so much. Mama Black is one of them witch doctor people, all the magic and the hocus-pocus. I thought it was all baloney until she caught me stealing some of her wares and cursed me. She said "you will become my walking dead servant upon your death, never to die, cursed to do my bidding until the end of time". Pfft. First off, I have had plenty of people try and kill me, and since I had was not yet 6 feet under I am pretty sure that no skeleton painted meerkat is going to do me in. Bitch, I am invincible!
Then on the way home I got attacked by a pride of lions and died.
Fuck me, right?
Buried in an unmarked grave, I awoke in the confines of my coffin, dark, confused and dehydrated. I couldn't quite tell you how long I was down there but I did end up giving my maggots names and thrilling backstories. One was a princess who became a slave, another was an edgy anti hero who bought the slave and fell in love, but he was like; seriously edgy.
And just at the point of going completely insane, Mama Black dug me out of the ground. I was her servant now. Awesome. Wonderful. But I guess it's not so bad. I mean, I can't die. I have been stabbed, lit on fire, frozen, thrown off a cliff, drawn and quartered, drawn like one of your French girls, beaten with a giant tuna, eaten by a shark, stampeded by elephants, and countless other ways a mortal man would find his end. All Mama Black needs to do is toss some new body parts on me, throw me in my coffin and Bob's your bad-touch-uncle, I am back.
Match Eddy had gone from tender touches to completely missing blows. "Come on..." He whined, "Just fall over or something!" Pleading to Ove. The human was having none of this, and suddenly struck Eddy in the neck and a loud SNAP! sounded. The head of the Hyena was now sideways, seeing the world from a whole new perspective as Eddy wobbled, stumbled, and spun about from the hit. He teetered, and gave his head a shake -- it flopped from one side to the other and back again. Great, just great. "OH THAT'S JUST PERFECT!" He dropped the hook and rope and brought his hands to his head, trying to right it...only for it to flop to the side again. "Really?!" Apparently now he was going to be fighting in a portrait view for the remainder. Punch for punch, right hand (with the missing finger) looked to crack Ove in the jaw in retaliation for a mostly broken neck.
See? I had my neck broken and still managed to kick viking butt. Told you I won that fight. Wait. What are vikings doing on a tropical island? Ah forget it.
So now Mama Black and I travel the world with some companions we met, traveling to exotic places, meeting new people, trying to eat them much to the annoyance of others. That's where this little story basically ends. If this was a Tinder profile, you would have already swiped me away and who can blame you? I am still stupid, lazy and now look like George A. Romero's fur suit he wears while having sex.
But you know you still want a piece of this fine ass.
All artwork on this site provided by Emyliana and copyright myself. Not for your use.
Member of the Lost Veldt
