CnS: Infection Part 1

Azreal cursed in draconic, repeatedly. Every word was punctuated by a pound on the door behind him.
“Any time with that barricade, guys!” The door jumped an inch into him before he forced it back, “I'm sittin' pretty over here!”
“Do you want... to lift things?” Krongel wheezed under the weight of the barrel.
Krongel dropped the barrel and forced it against the door, Azreal quickly peeling away and stepping quickly towards the bar. Rydel and Krongel then took tables and stools and rammed them up to support the barrel.
“How's our brave soldier?” Azreal stood on a stool and peered over The Duellist's prone body on the bar. He grunted in response.
“Hells if I know. By my best estimate, though, he doesn't have a chance unless we remove the arm.” Saturday had not budged the plague mask an inch while inspecting the wound.
Azreal snapped his fingers in front of the Duellist's face while he writhed. “Hear that, Trenchcoat? The doc's gonna have to cut the wound right off you, okay?”
Through gritted teeth, the Duellist managed to say, “How much arm?”
“To be on the safe side, I'd rather take the whole thing.” Saturday answered in a professional monotone, “I don't even know if that'll work to be honest, I'm basically winging it.”
The Duellist groaned loudly in response.
“If it makes you feel any better, once you've lost the hand, what were you even gonna use the rest of the arm for?” Azreal contributed.
“Azreal, kindly find some strong booze for T.D.”
The kobold hopped down from the stool, “You want to borrow my knife?”
“No, no,” Saturday drew the Duellist's sword from its sheath, “I think I can manage with this.” The Duellist groaned again. “Oh, come on, you weren't planning on using it again, were you?”
Azreal surfaced from under the bar clutching a pair of whiskey bottles and planted them on the bar.
“All right, seems we're read y to begin operating. Krongel, if you wouldn't mind, come and hold him in place.” The masked figure nodded and rushed to the bar to pin the Duellist down with both hands.
“I'm gonna see if I can find a way to the roof, get a look at the situation across town.” Rydel breezed past the three of them.
Azreal soaked a bar-rag in the whiskey and pushed it between the Duellist's teeth, “Bite down hard, big guy.” Azreal took a swig himself, then took the hand of the bitten arm and held it out over the edge of the bar.
There was deadly silence, bar breathing and the scratching at the door, then a sickening, wet sound of impact. Then several much harder ones.
Azreal said something else in draconic, from which the word “Apsu” could be discerned. Saturday said something very fast and ominous.
“Fucking hell.” Krongel added.
The Duellist rolled in pain as blood seeped from his shoulder. Azreal looked down at the raggedly severed arm hanging by the hand in his grip, then held it at arm's length. “I'm gonna go throw this off the roof.”
“First!” Saturday interjected, then pulled the coatsleeve clean off, “Bandage.” He explained.

“You said he wouldn't turn!” Rydel fumbled for his bow as the group barrelled over the bar.
“Probably. I said he probably wouldn't turn.”
“Saturday, I'd just like to take this opportunity to mention how much I value your contribution to the group.” Azreal drew his revolver and levelled it at the shambling Duellist. The bullet struck him in his intact shoulder, then a bolt thudded into his chest from Rydel. This had the effect of making him shudder for a second.
Krongel strode forward, “Okay... I got this.”
Several seconds later, Krongel strode back to them proudly holding the results of a decapitation. “You need to be hands-on... if you want to get ahead.” Krongel tossed the head lazily to Saturday, who sidestepped and let it slam wetly against the door.
“So what's the plan? If we stay in here we starve, if we go out there-” Azreal paused, and a moment later the horde outside pounded at the door, “Yeah.”
“I could kill them all if I decided to.” Krongel blatantly lied.
“Let's get a look from the roof. There can't be that many, we can probably fight our way out of town and work from their.” Saturday led them upstairs.
The group peered over the roof's edge.
“There definitely weren't this many yesterday.” Rydel commented.
“I didn't think there were this many people in town...” Azreal scratched his head under his hat.
“There can't have been, the streets are literally full.” Rydel gesticulated wildly.
“Maybe they've been multiplying?” Azreal ventured.
“Ew.”
“Well they don't seem to be organised. Or intelligent.” Saturday surmised.
“Shouldn't you know?” Azreal asked, turning away from the edge of the roof, “I thought undead were your field of expertise.”
“These aren't the kind of undead I know. Not an ounce of magic between them. It's obscene.” Saturday looked as though he might shiver at the thought of these zombies.
“Remember that time... you pulled a skeleton... out of the ground?”
“Most natural thing in the world, Krongel.”
Azreal shook his head. “This is gonna be a long morning...”