“Hurry, the scourges approach!” Shouted Sir Slaughter, famed knight of the triangular table.

Although the zombies moved slowly, it was taking forever for Slaughter’s pages to mount him on Tramplesmite, his trusty steed. Slaughter was not a fat man, but his heavy and bulky armor meant that he had to be mounted by crane.

The crane creaked and groaned under Slaughter’s weight and suddenly he slipped out of the harness and fell into the mud. Slaughter’s pages quickly extricated him from the mud, but the Zombies were closer.

“Brains!” The zombies moaned.

The pages lifted Slaughter again, but the crane snapped. Slaughter landed in the mud puddle again and flailed around like a turtle on its back. The zombies were so close now that all the pages fled. With a whinny, Tramplesmite abandoned Slaughter too.

Slaughter managed to stand up somehow. He reached for his sword but realized one of his pages ran off with it. “I guess I’ll have to do this ye olde fashioned way,” Slaughter said as he raised his spiked fists.