Stormyx
Sick Ducker
ML
SkyeOfStars
Dervish
CaliforniaState Never before had Gwenyfar witnessed so many infected... To her, in the dark of the night, the waves of the infected seemed endless. Yet from the palisade walls, she could see some of the others had made it successfully. Following after them, Gwenyfar unsheathed her short-sword and pulled her shield from her back and dashed forward.
She was used to making people bleed, either from torture, dismemberment, or even just gutting someone and spilling their bowels onto the ground. However, the infected were different... They couldn't die from simple wounds. Gwenyfar had heard of the rumors circulating that the only way to kill these abominations was to destroy their head, either decapitation, or a quick stab through the eye would suffice.
As she ran ahead, nearing the wall, Gwenyfar caught the attention of several infected that suddenly turned her way. They were true freaks of nature, for the infected had uncanny speed that did not hinder their movements. Lifting her shield, Gwenyfar braced for impact as the infected swarmed about her. From her targe, Gwenyfar managed to send a few infected falling, as for the others that stayed with her; their putrid breath stung her nose and eyes as she thrusted her sword into the eye of an infected, and drove it through their skull before depositing the corpse on the ground.
She looked up in time to see two more infected approaching her, mouths agape, eyes empty inside. With one quick swing, Gwenyfar decapitated the two infected before having her shield ripped away from her. The hardened sellsword drew out a dagger she had tucked into the front of her leather trousers and gave a fearsome, primeval yell that rang out across the field. She plunged the blade fearlessly into the eye of the infected that pursued her until she heard a thickening crunch.
Gwenyfar knew deep in her heart that any of these infected could be her father or her brothers. If that was the case, she cared not, for it was better to have them dead instead of suffering in an empty vessel of flesh. Picking up her shield, Gwenyfar went with sword and dagger in hand, with her targe upon her back again, and sprinted for the wall. The cold night air seemed to have sucked all of the warmth out from her very limbs, and causing her chest to heave with sharp pains; still she ran.
Now, only feet away from the walls of the fort, Gwenyfar spotted Karen at the wall, along with the blades she left embedded in the wooden fortress. Grabbing one dagger in her hand, Gwenyfar hoisted herself up away from the reaches of the infected. Hand over hand, she made the difficult climb to the top, and when she reached the top, Gwenyfar fell over onto the platform behind the wall. In the dark of the night, she prayed that no one could see the tears that streamed down her dirty cheeks.
"We need that rope!" Gwenyfar cried out as she pushed herself up and began to scout the area on the platform for any. Thankfully, she found a large coil of rope at the top setting near a workers toolbox. Grabbing it, Gwenyfar chucked it over the side of the wall for the others, the rope unfurled like a piece of cloth in the wind as it tumbled down the walls, keeping one end wrapped tightly about her wrist.
She was used to making people bleed, either from torture, dismemberment, or even just gutting someone and spilling their bowels onto the ground. However, the infected were different... They couldn't die from simple wounds. Gwenyfar had heard of the rumors circulating that the only way to kill these abominations was to destroy their head, either decapitation, or a quick stab through the eye would suffice.
As she ran ahead, nearing the wall, Gwenyfar caught the attention of several infected that suddenly turned her way. They were true freaks of nature, for the infected had uncanny speed that did not hinder their movements. Lifting her shield, Gwenyfar braced for impact as the infected swarmed about her. From her targe, Gwenyfar managed to send a few infected falling, as for the others that stayed with her; their putrid breath stung her nose and eyes as she thrusted her sword into the eye of an infected, and drove it through their skull before depositing the corpse on the ground.
She looked up in time to see two more infected approaching her, mouths agape, eyes empty inside. With one quick swing, Gwenyfar decapitated the two infected before having her shield ripped away from her. The hardened sellsword drew out a dagger she had tucked into the front of her leather trousers and gave a fearsome, primeval yell that rang out across the field. She plunged the blade fearlessly into the eye of the infected that pursued her until she heard a thickening crunch.
Gwenyfar knew deep in her heart that any of these infected could be her father or her brothers. If that was the case, she cared not, for it was better to have them dead instead of suffering in an empty vessel of flesh. Picking up her shield, Gwenyfar went with sword and dagger in hand, with her targe upon her back again, and sprinted for the wall. The cold night air seemed to have sucked all of the warmth out from her very limbs, and causing her chest to heave with sharp pains; still she ran.
Now, only feet away from the walls of the fort, Gwenyfar spotted Karen at the wall, along with the blades she left embedded in the wooden fortress. Grabbing one dagger in her hand, Gwenyfar hoisted herself up away from the reaches of the infected. Hand over hand, she made the difficult climb to the top, and when she reached the top, Gwenyfar fell over onto the platform behind the wall. In the dark of the night, she prayed that no one could see the tears that streamed down her dirty cheeks.
"We need that rope!" Gwenyfar cried out as she pushed herself up and began to scout the area on the platform for any. Thankfully, she found a large coil of rope at the top setting near a workers toolbox. Grabbing it, Gwenyfar chucked it over the side of the wall for the others, the rope unfurled like a piece of cloth in the wind as it tumbled down the walls, keeping one end wrapped tightly about her wrist.
