Hundreds of men, women and children fire away, wielding a variety of weapons. Demons and monsters are torn to shreds, an Angel falling from the sky as it's hit by a rocket launcher. The line holds, a nameless luitenant blaring orders, as the humans focus and refocus their fire, taking out summoners and leaders, as well as occasionally providing cover fire for the small amount of artillery they have. A fireball explodes against the line, 2 dead, 5 wounded. An earth golem erupts from the ground, holding a man in it's grasp, and one of the more talented young snipers shoots the gnome warlock that summoned it. Fire rages in the sky and in the earth, as death flashes on both sides. There's a grim certainty that if the demons can close the lines and get in close, the firefight would erupt into a slaughter, but the commanders are skilled and experienced, and each of the survivors is a battle-hardened veteran. Then, the arcane shields erected by the Spectre Coalition fall, and the entire strike force is open to shooting. Heavy gunfire wracks the enemy. The Leviathan the enemy was using as a battleship starts crashing down, the sky-spheres that kept it up shattered, and the men circle the beast. Monsters pour from it's back, but they have no chance. Five more men die, but there's nothing left of the opposition.
Grimly, the men search the battlefield, taking weapons from the fallen humanoid enemies. Some of the beasts are dragged away, either for food or because of the properties of their bodies. Many of the men are using armor made from Leviathan Leather, or Dragon Scales. When supplies are scarce, you use everything you can get. The medics are highly busy now, saving those that can be saved through magical and scientific means, as one of the men dispatches of a surviving Death Knight. The resistance is united in the Coalition, which has formed together on the barren soil of Africa. From hundreds of smaller groups that were hiding out, a more powerful resistance was being formed, supplied with weapons and supplies from the Enclave. However, as their banner of the Coalition runs high, the men start hearing the wailing. The screaming, shrieking sound which can mean only one thing.
Breaking up instantly, the army drops it's weapons, in practised retreat, repressed panic in the air. No attempt is made to resist, not a single man turns to fight, as on the horizon, a horde of white and green forms can be seen. Above them floats a massive behemoth, a figure draped in black, covered in chains from which hang thousands of skulls, each of which screams and wails as if in agony. In each outstretched hand, the God of Death holds the end of the chain, which flows down into the army of screaming ghosts, pale human soldiers, bodies withered and decaying, but still bound to this mortal coil. Commander Mathews looks over the scene, and he could weep. They were foolish, congregating in numbers so large. The Coalition was a dream come true, the first steps of the resistance, but obviously the Old Gods knew to smother such things in the bud. Holding out a hand, he gave the order, the order that would cost him his life.
Men scattered, moving to all sides, fleeing. They took cars, mechs, mini-jets, shuttles, and any transport that might take them. Chaos, as men knew their lives would end this day. The determined edge of hope drove the men to all sides, all so they might not be ripped apart by the approaching horde of the dead. However, the God of Death did not change his path. He wasn't after the men, or the vehicles. Commander Mathews finds a ridge to stand on. By his side are three figures. Two were his fellow commanders, who, resigned to their deaths, stared up at the approaching hellscape. The last was Shiri, the bioweapon gifted from Lord Justice himself, a creature beyond fear. How Mathews envied it. He clutched his ceremonial sword, and unashamed tears of fear streamed over his cheeks.
"Come on, men. This isn't a drill." it was a weak statement, but Mathews gritted his teeth. Planting his feet into the ground, he thought of Samantha, who now surely was fleeing along with the others. Would she survive? Would his single act of heroic defiance perhaps save her? Mathews looked up, and witnessed all his horrors personified. The God of Death held up both hands, and, with an air of satisfaction, dropped the chains. They crashed to the ground, as the horde of dead rushed forward. The man next to Mathews dropped to his knees, and Mathew felt his own trying to drop him as well. But that wouldn't do. If he could buy her a minute, even a second, he would, no matter how hard. His hand on his sword hilt relaxed, as he drew it. "This isn't a drill. This is your last chance to fight for what you believe in. Stand up, dogs!" Pointing his weapon at the enemy, Mathews didn't watch his former colleagues, but he could hear them stand. Jake even fell into a fit of chuckling, as he drew his own sword. Shiri was silent, twitching slightly, long steel claws elongating from it's hands with a slight hiss, as the green lenses that served as eyes focused, Mathews uttered a single primal scream, as he charged towards the zombie horde, steel flashing defiantly in the sunlight, the screams of the commanders mixing with the wailing of the dead.
Commander Mathews died that day. The three leaders of the Coalition, Jake, Mathews and Adams were slaughtered, their souls added to the torturous horde of the dead that followed around the God of Death. However, he had bought that minute. Scattered throughout the continent of Africa, small groups perservered. Scattered, hopeless, crushed and vulnerable. Samantha had, indeed, survived the escape, together with her unborn child. Many brave men who had joined the coalition, as well as those who had avoided the gathering of resistance fighters, were thrown together without food or water. One such group formed, as a man by the name of Johnathan Mattocks stood outside of the cave that he and his family called home. He could see the members of the army fleeing from the unleashed dead, and shouted out to them, offering his shelter. Regardless of the risk, Johnathan couldn't let his fellow man die before his eyes without helping.
Grimly, the men search the battlefield, taking weapons from the fallen humanoid enemies. Some of the beasts are dragged away, either for food or because of the properties of their bodies. Many of the men are using armor made from Leviathan Leather, or Dragon Scales. When supplies are scarce, you use everything you can get. The medics are highly busy now, saving those that can be saved through magical and scientific means, as one of the men dispatches of a surviving Death Knight. The resistance is united in the Coalition, which has formed together on the barren soil of Africa. From hundreds of smaller groups that were hiding out, a more powerful resistance was being formed, supplied with weapons and supplies from the Enclave. However, as their banner of the Coalition runs high, the men start hearing the wailing. The screaming, shrieking sound which can mean only one thing.
Breaking up instantly, the army drops it's weapons, in practised retreat, repressed panic in the air. No attempt is made to resist, not a single man turns to fight, as on the horizon, a horde of white and green forms can be seen. Above them floats a massive behemoth, a figure draped in black, covered in chains from which hang thousands of skulls, each of which screams and wails as if in agony. In each outstretched hand, the God of Death holds the end of the chain, which flows down into the army of screaming ghosts, pale human soldiers, bodies withered and decaying, but still bound to this mortal coil. Commander Mathews looks over the scene, and he could weep. They were foolish, congregating in numbers so large. The Coalition was a dream come true, the first steps of the resistance, but obviously the Old Gods knew to smother such things in the bud. Holding out a hand, he gave the order, the order that would cost him his life.
Men scattered, moving to all sides, fleeing. They took cars, mechs, mini-jets, shuttles, and any transport that might take them. Chaos, as men knew their lives would end this day. The determined edge of hope drove the men to all sides, all so they might not be ripped apart by the approaching horde of the dead. However, the God of Death did not change his path. He wasn't after the men, or the vehicles. Commander Mathews finds a ridge to stand on. By his side are three figures. Two were his fellow commanders, who, resigned to their deaths, stared up at the approaching hellscape. The last was Shiri, the bioweapon gifted from Lord Justice himself, a creature beyond fear. How Mathews envied it. He clutched his ceremonial sword, and unashamed tears of fear streamed over his cheeks.
"Come on, men. This isn't a drill." it was a weak statement, but Mathews gritted his teeth. Planting his feet into the ground, he thought of Samantha, who now surely was fleeing along with the others. Would she survive? Would his single act of heroic defiance perhaps save her? Mathews looked up, and witnessed all his horrors personified. The God of Death held up both hands, and, with an air of satisfaction, dropped the chains. They crashed to the ground, as the horde of dead rushed forward. The man next to Mathews dropped to his knees, and Mathew felt his own trying to drop him as well. But that wouldn't do. If he could buy her a minute, even a second, he would, no matter how hard. His hand on his sword hilt relaxed, as he drew it. "This isn't a drill. This is your last chance to fight for what you believe in. Stand up, dogs!" Pointing his weapon at the enemy, Mathews didn't watch his former colleagues, but he could hear them stand. Jake even fell into a fit of chuckling, as he drew his own sword. Shiri was silent, twitching slightly, long steel claws elongating from it's hands with a slight hiss, as the green lenses that served as eyes focused, Mathews uttered a single primal scream, as he charged towards the zombie horde, steel flashing defiantly in the sunlight, the screams of the commanders mixing with the wailing of the dead.
Commander Mathews died that day. The three leaders of the Coalition, Jake, Mathews and Adams were slaughtered, their souls added to the torturous horde of the dead that followed around the God of Death. However, he had bought that minute. Scattered throughout the continent of Africa, small groups perservered. Scattered, hopeless, crushed and vulnerable. Samantha had, indeed, survived the escape, together with her unborn child. Many brave men who had joined the coalition, as well as those who had avoided the gathering of resistance fighters, were thrown together without food or water. One such group formed, as a man by the name of Johnathan Mattocks stood outside of the cave that he and his family called home. He could see the members of the army fleeing from the unleashed dead, and shouted out to them, offering his shelter. Regardless of the risk, Johnathan couldn't let his fellow man die before his eyes without helping.
