Anfeald, Anglo-Saxon Warrior

The vikings had burned his village and carted off most of his people to be taken to the slave markets in Dublin. But he and his hunting party had been out when the village was attacked and Anfeald vowed he would get his revenge. When he realized that there were still a few stragglers from the viking war band still loitering around, Anfeald hatched a plan. He would lie in weight in the burned out ruins of his farmstead until one of them came close...then the northman would find Saxon steel buried in the back of his head. 

Anfeald defends the ruins of his farmstead from Hrolf and Snorre

Plegg Marines!

Nogrod looked in horror at the thing approaching him. "How could one of our champions shun it's fellow squats to embrace the ruinous powers?" the though as he flicked the switch on his autogun to full auto. He confidently took aim and fired, release a series of rapid fire shots that each hit it squarely in the chest. The horror of seeing this abomination quickly turned into shock  as it continued to approach him. He'd put enough bullets into it to drop a mature flignox and this thing wasn't even phased...

Zombie Little Dyer

Apprenticeship in the Imperial Advertisers Guild started younger than most. Turned over to the guild's guardianship as early as four years old, most guild children were deployed for the betterment of imperial advertising as sign boys. Specially trained to carry heavy wooden placards to the front and back suspended by ropes over their shoulders, sign boys were contracted out to local businesses, government offices, and anyone else who felt the need to announce something, like an impending wedding, a birth, or the end of the world. Of all the sign boys in the guild's Karr-Keel branch, Little Dyer was the best. Through the oppressive heat of the summer, the driving rains of fall, the ice and snow of winter, and the general muckiness of spring, he could be depended upon to stand in place or walk a beat with his signs proudly displayed upon his chest and back. The guild expected great things of Little Dyer, and, when he grew beyond his role, there was no doubt that he would become a journeyman advertiser. Of course, the Necroburgher's curse ended all of that, and Little Dyer now wanders the crumbling remains of Karr-Keel, still bearing the burden of the last sign he ever carried. Who would have thought that an advertisement for The End Tavern stating "The End is Nigh" with an arrow pointing down the street would be so prophetic...

Zombies of Karr-Keel -- Johannes, Ravenna, and Medolf