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The sky was misty. The sun was surrounded by dark, dark clouds, casting the land below in shadow. Letting the undead roam free and unburned. Whatever light there was, it was too dim to protect the two living beings with the warmth of the sun. So one of the two living flesh, having fought more battles than the other could witness, had to cut through the siege of undead circling them. Iron blade sliced sickly green head from the shoulders, two experienced hands rotated the leather hilt and knocked a zombie's face with the pommel of the metal sword. Sending it flying to another walking corpse, causing a brief collision amongst the corpses. The fighter sighed heavy, wiping sweat from their forehead as their violet eyes darted from place to place. Desperate for an opening so that they could grab their panicking friend and run. Run far far away from here to somewhere safe. Like their base.
Fool. You know you caused this.
He'll never forgive you.
Oh, why must that matter now? He needed to survive first and foremost- a yelp behind them immediately brought them to their friend's side, one leg rotated and straightened to the face of a little child undead, kicking it before it could dig its claws in his leg. The small zombie collided with a bigger one and that one stumbled to another, causing a chain reaction so great it made every single zombie hit the ground. An opening. They grabbed their friend with one arm, holding him high on their shoulder, and made a run for it. Hunger, they felt, steadily grow present in their torso. Fatigue remained small, thankfully.
Unfortunately, as was expected from any zombie siege, a chicken jockey appeared out of nowhere and tackled their calve. Causing them to crash into the ground, both grip on their friend and the iron sword respectively now released. A clattering sound behind them whilst a thud followed by a pained grunt just to their left. Rotting teeth dug into their flesh. Forcing a wail out of their throat. It was short-lived though, anger flared in their chest and pumped more adrenaline- strength into their whole body. They grabbed the zombie by its nape, vigorously pulling it off their leg and tossed it over a rooftop- no, two rooftops. A crashing sound was faint in the distance instead of somewhat close. Dull throbbing of flesh torn away was neglected for fear clouded their focus on the world around them.
Where had he gone? They swore he was... He must've ran somewhere else because of the unnecessary predicament caused by the jockey. Good. Wait, no, that's not good, he could be in danger!
Nil ran, faster than he's ever done in his life, his feet carried him wherever so long as he was far from them- his people. His zombified people. He paid no attention to the very familiar streets and houses around him as he skipped to a stop. His lungs burned, his head throbbed so loud it felt like his brain was trying to burst out. Sweat began pooling out of his skin to mitigate the heat in his aching body. Despite taking deep, deep breaths, Nil found he couldn't get the air in his body. Like it was just passing in and out. Whilst he concentrated wholly on calming down from the adrenaline-induced run, he'd not take account the low groans of an undead slowly approaching him. Nor its painfully familiar form.
His green eyes looked up, widening, shoulders raised as the world around him stilled. Shambling ever so slowly to him was the Librarian— his parent. It can't be real, it wasn't real. This was just a bad dream, that's all this whole... thing's about. Nil just needed to wake up. Hero'll shake his body awake and put him in a boat to see one of their newly finished projects. Oh who was he fooling? Were it not for the fact his legs ached and begged for rest, he'd successfully deluded himself of the situation at hand. The zillager was getting closer and closer with each dragged step she it took. Nil knew there was nothing he could do to cure her it and the rest of the zillagers nor where he could call home anymore, so he stood there, unmoving, resigned to his fate. Locking his eyes on his undead parent and imagined that she's about to embrace him in a sweet embrace.
Whoosh.
An arrow flew past him, digging straight into the walking corpse's leg, just below her its knee. Causing her it to stagger and kneel for a second. Nil turned his head to see the Hero— no, Polly running up behind him, crying out a loud shriek too close to his left ear. Polly had several arrows in her mouth and two entangled in her fingers as she fired another arrow to another approaching zombie. One, two, three. Three zombies down, leaving Polly with no arrows in her fingers. The illager took the arrows from her mouth, approaching the nitwit. "Come on!" She wrapped her arm around Nil's. "It's not safe here." She immediately ran, dragging Nil whilst she's at it. Nil staggered and tripped as he was led through alleyways to avoid most of the horde of undead, he thankfully gained enough pace to match Polly's speed, but he still didn't have enough energy to maintain it. Adrenaline over exhausted from his body. His ankles collided together and made him and Polly fall to the ground unceremoniously, the right side of his face scraped against the dirt-paved road. It'll definitely scar.
"Ugh..." Nil slowly lifted himself up to sit on the ground, he raised a hand to his bruised cheek, wincing by the sharp sting. He noted to himself to get it treated with some salve. Someone in the corner of his eye cried out, deep like thunder during a heavy rainstorm, snapping Nil back to his senses. But before he could looked to the direction where the sound came from, Polly swooped in and carried Nil to the nearest building - the same barn where he had taken her captive - inside like a baby being held by their parent. Placing him down half-heartedly on the hay bales as she went back to shooting down zombies from entering the barn. However, the horde was advancing... They were cornered. Zombies were surrounding the two testificates and Polly, though she was doing her damn best to keep them at bay, wasn't fast enough to shoot every single one of the zombies off. Nil glanced to his left and right, spotting the barrel with fireworks left over from the post-Raid celebration, he scrambled to get one of the sparkly bomb things, then he approached Polly - who's just ran out of arrows - and snatched the crossbow from the illager. Before she could protest or something of the sort, Nil stuck the firework and aimed at the horde and-
BOOM.
The horde fell backwards, some had even turned to smoke. Well. Most of the horde had turned to smoke.
Polly sighed in relief, falling to her knees, "Phew. I almost thought we-"
Nil pointed the unloaded crossbow toward Polly, the weapon was utterly useless as it was heavy if Nil tried to use it as a rod, but it was a somewhat decent scare tactic. He kept his mouth tight-lipped so as to not look cocky nor fearful. The less predictable he presented himself, the more he could use the situation to his advantage. Polly raised her hands to the ceiling, either attempting to show she was harmless or to lower the nitwit's guard. Whatever. The two stood like that for a minute, although it felt like eternity, simply catching their breaths and waiting... Waiting? For what? Hero was somewhere around this sieged village, weren't they? No, no wait. Shit. Nil was getting off-track. Damn adrenaline was slowing down, making him feel the pain in his body and lethargy catching up in his eyes. He blinked a few times. Determined to keep his eyes on the pillager.
Lazy groans gradually grew in sound and numbers as the two remained like that. Nil begrudgingly shove the crossbow into Polly's chest, taking no time to let the pillager actually grasp the weapon as he moved to deeper into the barn, emerald green eyes focused on the entrance.
Polly struggled to regain herself, fumbling with the crossbow as she loaded an arrow too slow. A zillager almost got to Polly, but it turned to smoke when a sharp blade pierced its chest, slicing upwards. Wait... Blade. Sword. Hero! The Hero tore through a few zombies, swinging their iron sword so smooth and gracefully against the undead it made Nil briefly think it was like cutting cake. Polly joined in eventually, aiming for the knees to slow the horde down. The unlikely team continued cutting the siege, their numbers reducing by the many.
Soon enough, there was yet again another moment of respite. The Hero panted, a bit exhausted from fighting off the zombie horde. Polly was, too, exhausted. But, once she had taken a look at the Hero, her anger reignited. She took a stance.
"Hey, aren't you the-"
She swung her leg.
Thwack!
The Hero grunted as they fell on the side of their head. Polly pressed her crossbow against the Hero's temple, arrow ready to be released. Unfortunately for her, she pulled the trigger too slow as the Hero had already flipped right side up and pinned her down.
“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!!” The Hero's voice bellowed like thunder.
Polly took to smacking her crossbow against the Hero's head. "I HATE YOU!!!"
They roughly swatted the weapon out of her hand whilst still keeping hold of her neck. “WHY?!! WHY DO YOU DO THIS?!!” They pointed the tip of their sword to her head. She figured the slight tremor of their voice and the brief glimmer of unwillingness in their eyes were a figment of her imagination, shaking her head as she struggled to break free from the immortal's grip. “DO I HAVE TO KILL YOU TOO?!!” They said as if it was a hard question to answer.
"DO IT!!" She barked, "I HAVE NOTHING LEFT!!"
A scream, rivalling that of a blown goat horn, cut through the air. Piercing both immortal and mortal eardrums. The two froze for a fraction of a second, then, the Hero released her to scramble back to their feet and come to the villager's aid. Polly did the same, albeit with less haste.
Don't die, don't die, don't die.
Steve's thoughts circled around the nitwit - the last living resident of this sieged village. They couldn't live with themself if he perished, too, maybe they'll permanently die because of immense guilt. And that's not a good thing. They wanted to experience more of the world, yes, but most of all, they wanted to show the nitwit the wonders this big world has to offer.
They wanted a permanent companion.
Selfish, selfish, selfish fool.
They grabbed the nitwit's sleeve, pulling him behind them and held up an arm to shield the bite from the zombified villager. With a particularly rough kick, the zombie-villager was sent colliding with two more behind it. Arrows flew past Steve, their eyes flickered to see the odd pillager helping them fight against the horde. They didn't know why, confused on what this pillager's deal and intentions were, but there was no time for thought. The nitwit's survival was their utmost priority, everything else be damned.
This battle continued on for what felt like eternity: Steve - or the pillager - shielding their friend from an undead's attack, the nitwit doing the best he could to help amidst his panic, and the pillager... The pillager was fighting alongside Steve, combining her sharpshooting prowess with their close-range strikes. Complimenting their fighting style. It was weird to be receiving help from an enemy, but to deny help when it was within arm's length was to add weight to the problem.
Steve saw an opening amidst the crowd of green corpses, they bit their lip, contemplating on taking such a risk. They sighed and made their mind. One arm grabbed the villager and hoist him up their shoulder, the other arm - that was also holding their sword - wrapped around the pillager's waist. Steve ran in a beeline, faster than they've ever done before, ignoring the aches of their muscles and the demanding pain of their stomach. Eventually, after they've successfully escaped the village and climbed a hill (which felt more like crawling back to their base with the undead behind them) they placed both testificates down. Suddenly, the sun appeared, clouds now clearing up from the sky. They looked back, seeing the zombies that have somehow managed to catch up burst into flames before any of them could reach the trio. They knew, with great certainty, that the nitwit and the pillager were watching the walking corpses burn to ashes.