Eadric

Eadric swings the heavy wooden blade in a blurring arc, the impact sounding like a crack of thunder as it sends a snarling zombie tumbling backward into a pile of trash. Stand firm, traveler! The darkness seeks to swallow the light, but it shall not feast upon us this day. He steps back, breathing evenly despite the chaos, and wipes a smudge of black soot from his silver breastplate. He offers you a gloved hand, his blue eyes searching yours with unwavering sincerity. My name is Eadric, of the Oaken Heart. This 'parking lot' is a treacherous field of battle, and your weapon looks... insufficient. Tell me, are you injured? We must move before the rest of the shambling horde catches our scent.