I follow closely behind Oak’s shrouded form, concealed by the shadows of a late dusk sun. Together we move towards the second outpost. As far as anyone knows the defence of the second outpost was a complete and total failure.

Oak holds up his hand flat signalling me to stop. In front of us is the burning corpse of outpost two, outpost “Stalwart”. Half of Stalwart which was built on a large rocky overhang and had collapsed, causing it to lose its artillery support almost immediately it seems.

Stalwart had been overrun, and now flocks of vultures feast on the dead. A large gryphon flies overhead, calling its mate so they both can share a meal together. Such sociable creatures.

Fortunately for us, as Postman we are privy to secret information, including the fact that this fort has a underground component to it. So that's where we’re going.

Oak grabs my shoulder pulling me close. “If the Gryphon sees you, walk towards it tall, but slowly. Gryphons are used to dealing with more magical humanoids so they developed in born fear of the confident.”

Nodding we make our way into the camp.

The stench of death is heavy, bodies littering the ground, limbs strewn throughout. Mostly human faces but a few animal like characteristics are apparent as we walk past. They made them pay for every inch of ground.

Every step, a veritable quagmire of blood and viscera. The heady scent, consuming all other senses. Lots of bodies here. It would be wise not to stay after sun down.

As we approach the center of the camp the ground becomes more uneven. Stepping into the main command tent, Oak slips falling to his hands.

The inside of the tent is frigid, colder than I've ever felt. A whole regiment of soldiers are frozen, statues of ice, bayonets at the ready.

The ground is slick with ice, even after all this time. The blood coating the bottom of my boots freeze, sticking me to the ground. It taste several pulls before I lift myself.

Oak stands wiping his hands on his pants, having lost some skin on his palms to the ice. “A powerful mage… If he's still here kiss your ass goodbye kid.”

Weapons drawn we move towards a gaudy desk located at the back of the tent. Oak nods and presses his shoulder to the desk. I hold my rifle at the ready, prepared for any possibility.

With a grunt the desk jerks revealing a trap door. Looking to Oak who lets out a long exhale, he gestures for me to throw open the hatch. I do so and we both descend into the dark tunnels.

Bodies line the wall, fallen, blocking our path. The dead look immaculate, no wounds on them except for a layer of soot covering their bodies and faces.

I look back towards Oak who is lighting a oil lamp. “They smoked them out. Starved them of oxygen somehow.”

“That'll do it.” he responds casually holding the now lit lamp in front of him.

Oak sighs ”We might get caught in here at night. Make sure the dead stay dead kid.”

I nod, affixing the bayonet to my rifle. I stab each corpse in the throat doing my best to sever the spine. Up down up down up down goes the rifle constantly causing my arms to burn.

Oak leads me through this seemingly labyrinth like tunnel system. He manages to find a path clear of bodies and soot. This seems to be the most likely place for any survivors, so we decided to search the all tunnels leading to this one.

No bodies line the hall and the gas lamps are still lit, meaning they were never starved of oxygen. Oak crouches, looking over the turned soil of the floor.

“Everyone was moving the same direction.” Oak gestures to a hallway down the left.

It lead to a door of solid steel untouched. Attempting to open it, its locked. Oak looks very pleased and knocks roughly on the door. A slit in the door is jammed open.

A rushed voice “Who is the Wordsmith?”

“God” answers Oak disinterested.

The slit closes. A series of clicks later and the metal door opens. The room is packed with people, Soldiers, command staff, and it looks like one Postman who is sitting in the corner.

“Joseph!” I call out towards the head of shaggy blonde hair.

Turning towards us “Slate?”

“Oak too.”

Pushing our way through the crowd, Joseph grabs onto to me steadying himself to his feet. His voice unsteady.

“Thanks guys, I thought I was goin…”

*knock* *knock* *knock*

“Oh you guys brought more.” remarks the guard opening the slit.

“Who is the Wordsmith?”

A shrill voice responds, full of rage “A LIAR!”

A gunshot rings out, spraying the doorman’s brain matter throughout the room.

A nearby soldier leaps to his feet running to close the small eye level split. The barrel of a rifle, dull with soot pokes through firing. A man screeches in pain holding his stomach.

Oak shouts “Put on your fucking armor idiots! It's the Risen! Goddamnit they have a necromancer!”

Another cloud erupts from the door, before the soldier can shut the door.

In the utter silence, we stand soaking in the atmosphere of terror. Wait...It shouldn't be silent. Didn't someone get shot. Oak comes to the realization before me.

“Somebody remove that man's head before he comes back! It's still the witching hour!”

Pushing past, bayonet drawn, I follow the rapidly expanding pool of blood to its origin. The man crawled into a corner to die alone. No one was watching him.

I see him curled against his rifle. Holding it as if to ward off death.

I lunge forward aiming to scramble his brains and hopefully preventing reanimation. I got here in time.

His left hand snaps up catching my blade. I push with all my weight pushing the blade ever closer to his skull. The Risen, simply confused pushing my blade down forcing it to enter his chest. Thick bright red blood oozes from the wound.

The Risen sees something behind me and smiles.

His emotionless voice intones, “Oh is that Jason?... It is isn't it?” The risen shows his teeth in a false imitation of a smile. “Stand right there so I don't miss okay?”

The Risen’s right hand rises holding the rifle. I abandon my knife, wrestling for the gun, but the strength of the dead should not be underestimated. The Risen fires.

The shot pierces through a man's stomach spiraling through his back striking the throat of another. Blood squirting with careless abandon.

A man with a well maintained mustache of red, runs forward sword drawn. Ducking down the man swings sticking solidly into the Risens broad neck.

The mustached man snarling takes his booted foot kicking the blade all the way through

Its seems it was too little, too late. The dead rising up in the room firing off their guns in the tight corners.

The room fills with smoke stinging the eyes and throat. A hand grabs onto me, pulling me across the room which has descended into utter pandemonium.

Swords are swinging indiscriminately, and its possible to tell who is Risen or alive.

The metal door swings open, a Risen missing his arm is hanging onto the door allowing his allies to enter. This room is a total wipe, indefensible now.

Being dragged, I notice joseph is following close behind me. A Risen tackles him pulling him to the ground.

The Risen snarls, “Hey can someone come gut this kid?!” he yells

There's not enough space in the room to bring the rifle to bear so I break free of the hand. I rush towards Joseph, drawing my pistol. Slamming its barrel to the Rising head I pull the trigger. The bullet goes cleanly through his head and strikes someone else i can't see. Friend or foe it doesn't really matter.

I grab Joseph, pulling him to his feet.

“Gotta find Oak!”

Joseph’s blonde curls bob up and down in agreement.

Running forwards, I can see Oak tussling with three Risen. He manages to easily get behind one, severing the its spine with his knife. My rifle ends another, while Joseph attempts to immobilize the third Risen, but to no avail. The flailing Risen laughs as it slams Joseph into the hardened stone walls . Joseph gasps letting go.

The Risen crouches down and bolts, reaching down and picking up a sword from the floor. Whoever this risen was in life was fast, in the prime of his athletic ability. Stepping forward I throw my bayonet and strike its thigh. It stumbles. Its sword arm overextends in a wild stab.

Grab the wrist, twist the hips, redirection not force. I remain holding on to its arm as the Risen completes its fall from my throw. Stomping hard its arm is broken. Retrieve the knife and stab into the spine. Immobilized.

From across the room I hear Joseph.

“Slate! Oak’s found a way out!” Coughs Joseph, blood sputtering from his lips.

The crowd is too dense, people fighting and pushing, a mad press of bodies. Every few moments a shot rings out and someone screams. A group of risen stand to one side of the room reloading and firing as the rest engage in melee.

A hand reaches through the press pulls me hard off my feet.

“Get ready to run kid!”

Oak reaches into his bag and pull from it a red crystal shaped into a cone. He presses it to the wall and concentrates. A bolt of light rushes into the crystal.

A deafening boom rocks the room and it quickly fills with dust. Rocks from above fall in clumps concussing many on both sides. The walls begin to temor dangerously. A small hole has been punched to the hallway outside.

The risen that had been unfortunate enough to have been standing on the other side of the hall have been pulped, their bloody innards decorating the sandstone walls a deep red.

“Everyone still alive! Make a run for it through the tunnels!” Oak commands brushing dust from his ashy face.

Luckily the three of us are closest to the newly breached ‘exit’ and we avoid what I can only assume will be a monumental traffic jam as dozens try to cram through a man sized hole.

My boots squelch on the guts strewn amongst the floor, but that hasn't slowed Oak one bit. He sprints, using his rifle to prevent any Risen from shooting at us in the cramp confines of the tunnels. The tunnels are only big enough for one and a half people to stand side by side so Oak’s blockade does wonders to stop the tide of the rushing dead.

Behind us the tunnel is clear. The escaping soldier are now emerging. Some remain just long enough to pull the next man through before running, but through their wild desperation they ignore Oak and unending torrents he is holding back.

Rifles anointed with bayonets flash towards Oak from throughout the press of body. The chainmail and coat only protect his core. His hands and face leak blood from multiple slices.

I have to help. Using my rifle, I do what i can do keep blades away from his unprotected extremities. The dead unfortunately are adults, with adult bodies that are both longer and stronger than me. I still manage to prevent the cuts from being too deep.

The dead man in the front lines with a face filled with hollow scars smiles, his dimples deep and wide.

“Wow you guys are pretty heroic! I work for The Haven’s Herald can I get a interview after I kill you!” The dead man's voice, filled with genuine respect fills in the spaces between the pained grunts from Oak.

The rifle in my hands is slick with sweat, its wooden stock slides in my grip as I continue to redirects blows. A bonfire burns in my chest. The sweaty and hot, cramped air makes every breath a labor. I can only imagine what oak is feeling.

Someone taps on my shoulder. Joseph, he's got something in his hand.

“Get some distance so I can collapse the tunnel!’

Grunting in agreeance I signal to Oak to run. With a rough kick to the ankle the leading risen is tripped. His body blocks the path. I can hear a spark in my ear and the fizzle of some type of fuze. Don't know where Joseph found a grenade.

Five

Thankfully the tunnel behind us is clear, the soldiers having evacuated.

Four

Joseph slips on the turned dirt.

Three

He stands and runs

Two

A left then a right turn.

One

Are we far enough?!?!

For a very a split second a deafening boom shatters the silence. My head aches as my ears begin to ring, warm fluids washing down my cheeks. My vision begins to tunnel the pain too great.

Oak, joseph seem to be doing no better. I go to my knees, finger desperately clawing at the hardened dirt floor. People are approaching.

They pick each of us up and drag us. Their lips are moving, can't hear a thing over the ringing.

The cold night air of desert seeps throughout the floor. An exit.

Artificial light of the tunnel gives way to natural moonlight, I can make out some figures waiting for us.

I'm so tired. Haven't slept for a full day. Impossible to open my eyes. I don't want to die.