Why didn’t anyone tell me…

Elar awoke in the darnkess, wondering how far he had fallen. The skeletons did not pursue them into the hole. Jirkkin was sitting on the floor not moving, staring into the wall.
“bio afk,” said Jirkkin.
“Pardon?” asked Elar. Jirkkin didn’t respond. Elar walked closer and waved his hands in front of Jirkkin but there was no response.
Elar sat down and tried to wipe the blood off his staff with his robes. After a few moments he realized his robes were in little better condition than the staff. All that seemed to be happening is to leave a very consistent film of mess on the staff in place of the unusual collection of different types of mess there was before. The staff was notched in many places. Two teeth from some animal were still lodged in one place. He pulled them out one by one and dropped them on the floor.
The floor was perfectly flat, to the point you could probably see your face in it if it were polished. The walls were also perfectly flat. The stone corridors appeared to have been carved by a large machine to have become so perfect. It felt calculated and evil, the still air smelling of dead bodies and decay.
Jirkkin continued to stare at the wall, but now Elar noticed the bloody wounds had gone. He, Jirkkin, was still sitting in a pool of his own blood, apparently regenerating flesh at an astonishing pace. The armor was still torn in many places, but where Elar could see Jirkkin’s body, it had healed over as if it had not been bleeding and torn only minutes previously. Elar stood back up and staggered backwards, crashing into the wall on the opposite side.
“What is this? How did you do that?” demanded Elar. There was no reply from Jirkkin.
This was especially creepy as he had still not seen anyone eat any food yet. How would this be possible? What demonic power held these people together, causing them to regenerate without consuming matter? Still getting no reponse, Elar walked back up the corridor and out into the open air, deciding he would rather take his chances with the open air monsters before becoming posessed in the same way as Jirkkin.
“back” said Jirkkin suddenly, standing up.
“What?” asked Elar, turning around.
“inc, try to keep up.” said Jirkkin.
Jirkkin turned and looked into the dim hallway. He made an odd glowing and semi-graceful movement and then ran up the hall to stand by Elar.
A rotting zombie lumbered out of the dark, glowing slightly with decay as a tree stump does in perfect darkness. It ran up to Jirkkin and slapped him so hard that Jirkkin’s helmet came off.
“taunt it E”
“What’d you do that for!?” Shouted Elar. His staff got snagged on the ratty corner of his second hand robe as he started backing farther away from the stench the zombie was spreading. Another blow from the zombie sent one of the zombie’s fingers bounding off Jirkkin’s head, caroming off the wall, and rolling to rest a yard to Elar’s left.
“taunt!”
“Taunt yourself!” and Elar turned and ran.
“taunt it assho…” and then Jirkkin fell, dead. Jirkkin’s head had been crushed like some overripe fruit, bits falling in a gory arc from the blow of the zombie. The rest of his body slumped to its knees and toppled over backward. Elar had no plans to be there for the consuming. He ran back past the hole he had fallen through, and back out into the open air, and on and on. He looked back and the zombie had long since given up the chase.
His eyes were having surprisingly little trouble adjusting to the light. The skeletons had dispersed only 5 yards or so and were facing away from Elar.
A voice came into Elar’s ears apparently from nowhere.
“asshole”
Elar jumped and dropped his staff. He had thought he was alone, and there was clearly nobody but the skeletons on the hill. He bent and picked up his staff, hoping that he still had time to fight. Still, spinning, there was nobody there.
“why didn’t you taunt? phucking noob” said the voice. It sounded from inside his head, as if the sound was not coming from outside.
“Who’s there?!” shouted Elar, hoping he sounded braver than he felt.
The announcer called out “Your group has been disbanded.”
“Who’s out there?!” shouted Elar a second time, holding his staff out and spinning slowly, looking for the source of the voice, but it did not come.

Elar arrived back in town. His staff was now quite messy and was missing significant chunks near the ends. His robes were greasy, bloody, and torn. More than anything at the moment, he wanted to wash off the day and find somewhere to rest out of reach of the odd fauna of this land.
The sign at the middle of town read “Cotswold”. There were the same unusual bobbing attendants to the town stores and even a blacksmith. Elar hobbled toward the smith’s fire and warmed his hands for a few minutes, saying nothing. What could possibly cause people to regenerate that fast? What is wrong with the townsfolk that do not seem to be conscious? How can they survive standing out in the cold and wet, never resting?
He saw the entrance to Camelot and remembered the stream. He walked to the streambank and plunged in, clothes and all. He wiped down his armor and clothing, removing the largest and most disgusting bits of gore from his person. It went a long way to making him feel human, but now he was cold.
With the grisly death of Jirkkin so fresh in his mind and a decent chill in his bones, he moved off toward the inn. He opened the door and walked inside cautiously. There were five or six townsfolk here, weaving and standing as always. Elar walked to the desk.
“I’d like a room.” There was a long pause.
“Pardon, I’d like a room.” The innkeeper didn’t seem to notice him at all.
“I’ll just find one myself then?” asked Elar. Again, there was no response.
He walked toward the staircase and then upstairs to a collection of rooms. He opened a door. Inside was a small, essentially empty room containing a green water jug and a straw bed with a linen sheet. It would have to do. He was asleep before he hit the straw mat. Throughout the night, one of the residents kept shouting something about one of the other’s voices. Elar wrapped his head in his robes until he could no longer hear it and slept.