Kingdom of Loradel, Owlen Forest, Present day.
The rain had stopped, Rebecca had enough of it as it only made it harder to think. She stopped behind her commander as they reached the end of a hill, the Village of Hansel was just below them now. Dawn was coming and the land was masked in a haze of blue and a thin layer of fog. It was a far cry from a city but certainly not a small settlement.
At the center of the village was a combination of armored men and farmers; their weapons varied from swords to pitchforks. Surrounding them was a combination of wilts and more of the moving corpses.
"Rebecca, take position here and provide some cover." Xeto pointed to the ground. His eyes landed on the horrid sight; his breath unsteady as he continued on.
"Wait, Commander," said Rebecca, pulling him back.
His anxious eyes jumped from the fighting below and her as he remained unsteady.
"I know you're worried, but if your friends are anything like you then they're fine."
With a short exhale and nod he seemed to ease if only a bit. "You're right."
Rebecca's focus was caught by a large stone watchtower that stood high above its siblings of small homes of wood. "There." She pointed at the aged giant. "I'll be able to provide better cover from that tower."
"Agreed," said Xeto, his voice now devoid of worry.
She returned him a wink before chambering a new round into her rifle. "Let's show them what the Direwolf Demon-Hunt is capable of." At her feet was a moderate incline that was made up of grass on shrubbery. She leapt from the edge and leaned back against the hill, using the wet grass to slide down its surface. She reached the gravel path at the far end of the village. She pushed her rifle to her back and unholstered her lethal close-range twins. The tower was easily visible, even from the shadows of the surrounding buildings. Every passing second revealed more light from the waking sun.
Two undead emerged from the labyrinth of homes. They wore crimson tunics with stains of a darker blood shielded by a silver chest plate.
Soldiers? Perhaps at one point they were.
In unison they let out a blood-curdling screech as their eyes landed on her. She sprinted towards her victims, the sound of her own footsteps were overshadowed by their growls. She aimed her right revolver for the first and fired three shots.
The punch of the bullets staggered it as it tumbled towards her.
She ducked and threw it over her back and kept running towards the second. She slid under it and tripped it with a kick then quickly rolled on to her shoulder and fired two more shots. Each landed at the center of their foreheads, leaving the lifeless more of; lifeless. She rolled back up to her feet and continued for the watchtower.
The tower was just like the bridge-tower from the river; decorated with moss and with its creases filled with rainwater.
Her steadfast confidence weakened when she saw a pile of rubble blocking the entrance. An invisible hourglass mocked her as she eyed her surroundings for an alternate route to the top. A smile found a way onto her lips as she saw it; a large wooden crate at the top of the tower secured in place by a hinge and pully. She gripped the bottom end of the rope and aimed for the hinge. With one eye closed she fired her final bullet. The steel snapped, a second later gravity played its part as it pulled the crate from the edge and pulled her up at breakneck speed. Wind whistled in her ear as she reached the top. She quickly seized her chance as she reached out for the edge. Her muscled pleaded for her to let go at first grasp, but she pushed against the strain of her own weight and pulled herself up. She landed on her back and chuckled before catching her breath. The stock of her rifle fit comfortably against her shoulder as she rested the rifle on the crenel.
A man's cry broke louder than the other nightmarish sounds of dawn.
Rebecca looked through her scope, everything was magnified yet partially blurred by the fog.
The culprit of the yell was an older man that wore silver and crimson; the colors of Zuland, his beard painted brown with mud. Disarmed, he ran frantically as a small group of undead followed behind him.
Rebecca breathed in and held it. She followed them with her scope, training the sight just in front of her target. Her heartbeat thumped into her ears. One-two, one-two, one-two, one…she pulled the trigger. A flash and kick of the rifle before the bullet found its mark.
The leading undead's head rammed into a nearby wall, coating it with a new crimson paint. The remaining undead tumbled over their fallen ally, their pursuit delayed only by seconds.
The soldier's eyes were wide with panic as he looked in every direction for the source of the shot.
Rebecca pulled the bolt upright and back. The sound of her rifle spitting out the heated casing onto the stone was a sweet tune. "You won't find me, no one ever does," she whispered. Her chest felt lighter as she readied for another kill.
The man gave up his fruitless search and was back to running. Oddly enough the undead didn't follow, their attention now stolen by something else—someone else.
At the end of their trail was a young man armed with a bow. He fired an arrow into the skull of an undead that clung to his heel. He turned and let loose arrow after arrow into the newcomers.
Rebecca enhanced her magnification dial. She now could see his features clearer.
Pointed ears and a violet eye. Red scarf and an eyepatch over his right amethyst eye.
Elven huh?
An undead with the face of a hag approached from his rear and quickly took hold of him.
He managed to hold her at bay as her teeth clenched inches from his face.
Rebecca aimed for its head. Though it was a dangerous shot, a misstep would mean killing him. She exhaled once more; her heart slowing. She remembered the advice given to her by her brother. There are times where you only have a moment that lasts seconds, thinking takes time, don't think. The shot rang in her ears.
A second later undead's head jerked back violently as it was nearly split in two.
The man took his chance to loose another barrage of arrows into his attackers, creating a plateau of bodies at his feet. He turned and looked right at the tower and gave a quick salute.
Water had fogged up her scope significantly but she could swear he wore a smile, even winked back to her. She chuckled to herself. Looks like you found me, archer.