MCHC: A Coordinated Attack In Medias Res

An open field littered with corpses. Grass soaked in blood. The grisly sight bathed in moonlight. I can only briefly recall what I was doing, before I felt a sharp pain stab through my chest and shoot through my whole body.

I turned, sword in hand. An entire group of those bastards, charging at me—mindless, savage, driven forward by the skeleton behind them, its bony fingers pinching the drawstring of a crude, busted-up bow.

I wish I could say I blacked out, that my mind went blank. Instead I felt everything, almost as if my mind tried slipping away, but something held it in place—forcing me to feel every inch of my body being torn apart.

I cut down one, then another, but the third one, too fast. It tackles me, sends me staggering back. Before I can ready my next swing, its jaw clamps down on my arm.

For a moment, time drags itself out. I can feel every excruciating detail as it sinks its teeth further into my arm like some rabid bulldog. The pain almost electric in nature, shooting through my whole body and sending me into a panic. The sickening feeling of bone scraping on bone as its jaw only clamps tighter. The ghastly snarls of the husk as it grabs my arm and maintains its death grip, zero intention of letting go. Only one thought on my mind. Get it off. Now.

With a swift kick i get the husk just into position to drive my sword through its skull, the husk's jaw loosening as it slumps to the ground. its leader—the skeleton—crumbles as soon as I close the distance, bursting apart with one swing. Heavy breaths, shaking hands, battle won, my body barely registers the massive gash on my arm before I collapse to the floor.

For a few moments, silence. The eerie chirp of crickets marching on, uncaringly. Wind blowing by, whistling, as if a storm were brewing. An eerie chill in the air of the cold night. I felt no joy, only the misery of knowing i was half dead, terrified, and laid in a field of grass, alone, feeling no stronger than on my first day awaking in this godforsaken world.

My mind could only linger on the slightest things as i lay there, disconnected. The chill in the air, the wind, the smell of blood mixing with the earthy scent of the ground. The moon shone down on me, like it were a spotlight, drinking in my torment and savoring every drop of my agony as the wound bled further.

A distant wolf's howl shatters my trance. My mind crawls back to reality, sluggishly, unwillingly. I prop myself up, tightening my blood soaked grip around the pommel of my blade. Rising slowly, as I go upright, a thick river of blood spills from my arm defiling the grass further. Clutching my massive wound, feeling the scratches across my chest, I make my way forward, embracing the pain, letting it drive me.

Lumbering, swaying side to side, barely catching myself before I trip, I drag my battered body forward, eyes darting around, gazing over my shoulder in a paranoid frenzy each time I stop for breaths. Illuminating the darkness ahead with a lantern, I still yet feel my vision blurring.

Greeted by the familiar glow of my house in the distance, my eyes snap open. My pace picks up, knowing salvation is so close. With the last ounces of my energy my body slams straight through the door, and I slam shut every lock and every barricade I have before reaching for the bandage by my bedside.

I'm sat on the ground now, and with each wrap around I feel the soft cotton rags slow the bleeding—smothering the wound. I let out a sigh of relief. Arm now bandaged, I reposition, letting the warmth of the campfire soothe me as I tend to my more minor wounds, cleaning them with a wet cloth and leaving them to heal. As the water droplets trickle down my chest, again, my mind wanders. "Another attack from those bastards, only it seems they're getting smarter. For a bunch of seemingly dumb skeletons it seems like leadership is coming to be their forte. I've never had to deal with a coordinated attack, especially not while I was so caught off guard. only makes those mindless husks that much more dangerous".

The snap of a twig briefly makes my thoughts screech to a halt. I pause, but it seems like it was just some squirrel. Exhaling, calming myself, I carry on. "I probably can't stay here much longer. That trail of blood should lead them right to me. Once I'm well, I'll head further north, maybe I'll find more monuments there".

The image of the moon sticks in my mind. Vindictive, mocking, cruel.

"Maybe he's the one behind this".

Before I can ponder any longer my mouth stretches wide in a yawn. As the adrenaline wears off, I can feel my exhaustion overtaking me again. Wounds tended to, before I sleep, I restock my campfire with fuel, and leave my clothes to dry. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, each blink grows heavier, before I'm pulled into a deep sleep.