Considering the number of zombies filling up the streets to the throngs milling about in front of him, it was plainly obvious that leaving the city was a hopeless endeavor. Luckily, it also offered a nearly inexhaustible source of enemies to kill and hone your tactics, and John was happy to finally have an opportunity to experiment with a new card and see his limits.
Being careful, he was able to pull four closest zombies, and after creating a safe distance commanded his wisp to fire at the one in the lead. The deep buzz of arcing electricity announced the hit, and the zombie collapsed mid-stride, only twitching its legs, but otherwise paralyzed.
In the meantime, his dagger embedded itself into the second zombie, forming the golden lines, and making it fall apart a couple of seconds later. The paralyzed zombie was just starting to get up when ten seconds passed, and another bolt took it in the chest, making it fall on its back.
Hmm, interesting, John mused, keeping a safe distance from the last two and watching the first one on the ground. It didn't take long for those two to perish, but the stunned one was still holding up, that is if being paralyzed and having a foot-long circle of charred flesh could be called as such.
One difference was the length of the stun. After the third hit, it stayed down longer than the time to fire another bolt, and now after the seventh, John willed it to stop the attack. The first movement came in the form of twitching after twenty seconds, and the time, before it was able to stand, was another thirty, and even then, its mobility was all fucked up.
Now hit the head!
Another zap made it fall down, and after another three it finally died.
Ok, so very effective as a stun, but the damage is pretty shit.
His next test was if the location of the strike mattered, and surprisingly, yes it actually did. Hitting its head would knock it down for four seconds, making it a little disoriented for longer, but its movements would be much better. On the other hand, hitting an ankle would mess that leg up for half a minute, but it would go on all four, and drag the unresponsive leg behind it.
After trying many different combinations, his final conclusion was to hit the chest to paralyze and the knee to incapacitate. The ankle lasted a bit longer, but was harder to hit, and also a disabled knee made its crawl slower and more awkward. The Storm wisp broadened his combat options, but made him realize another problem. What to do with a stunned target? His blessed stiletto was better used elsewhere, so it was up to him to bash the head in, and unfortunately, neither his fist nor boot had enough heft to crush it, which forced him to look for solutions elsewhere.
The first thing he tried was a heavy rock with a sharp bit at the bottom, and at a first glance, it seemed like a great idea. One smash to the head and the paralyzed zombie crumbled to ash. Sadly, after trying it in actual combat, he was forced to change his mind. Running while carrying a heavy rock was just dumb, and having to quickly lift it above his head every time he attempted to finish the zombie off… well it didn't take long for his arms to get tired, and force him to take a break.
Overall, clearing the wandering zombies was becoming easier and easier, and unless he truly fucked up, John was able to reliably kill groups of up to eight with barely any effort. This efficiency was what allowed him to slowly pick the throng of zombies apart and safely move in a new direction. A hundred meters to his left was a nice brown wooden house with a large garden, and he made his way towards it in hopes of finding something better than the sharp stone.
He didn't want to just break in, but the odds of people surviving there were minuscule, and he was desperate for a usable weapon so he made his way around the garden and observed the dangers within. There were a couple of holes in the fence, through which the zombies had made their way in, making the whole place overrun. The other thing he noticed was the two Rothounds digging something in the garden, and after making the whole round, he used the closest hole to crawl in.
Starting with the normal zombies, and keeping his distance from the hounds, he cleared the left side of the garden and the house first. At least he didn't see any skeletons or any other remains which made him happy and gave him hope the owners somehow survived. The other thing making him happy was a barely-used aluminum bat he grabbed in one of the rooms, and after a few practice swings, he was very satisfied with the way it felt in his hands. With the house secured, he went back outside and prepared to face the Rothounds.
"Let's see how resistant you are to lightning." He mumbled, ready for another round of tests.
To avoid stupid risks, he stood at maximum range, and just as his stiletto was about to hit the neck of the one on the left, his wisp fired a blast into the side of its chest, right above its foreleg. It yelped in surprise, but quickly collected its bearings and with a limp trudged toward his position. The other, roughly three meters behind the first, lifted its head and after flaring its nostrils rushed out to assist its wounded pack member.
John, not trying to hide, bolted to the house and got ready to slam the door and give himself extra time. His waiting actually paid off, because as the uninjured hound was nearing the door, his wisp was ready to shoot, and fired a bolt into its snout. The timing was perfect, and John slammed the door shut right in front of its face.. The impact was significant, making a splintering sound, and tearing up one of the hinges, but the door was tough enough to hold, and changed the whole fight into a waiting game.
He could hear a loud snarl and another push, but nothing like the full sprint collision and the damaged door barely moved. It took another three tries for it to give up, and attempt to jump through the broken window on his right, but John was ready, hearing the footsteps, and just as it came through, he made it eat another bolt to its head. This was the second time it got hit there, and the effects were starting to show. Not only were its eyes damaged, but now it had trouble moving and John easily retreated to the living room on the right and got ready to close the door on it again. A blue streak flew in through the walls, announcing the death of the first hound and assuring John of his victory.
The door couldn't hold against the mad Rothound, but before it was able to tear through the flimsy interior door and stick its dumb head through the hole, yet another bolt was released between its eyes.
John watched for any more movement, but it seemed the hound had enough and was now paralyzed on the floor.
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Hmm, three bolts to the head is a doable strategy.
It was as far from a dog as could be, but he still came out and quickly finished it off to avoid needless torture, but the ordeal gave him very important information. These hounds were at least partially relying on their senses, which meant the head was the best place to attack with the wisp. The previous chest hit was barely registered, and except for a light limp left no other visible damage.
Now, for the spot they were digging up.
Walking to the back of the garden, there was a hardened area with a closed steel trap door leading somewhere below, and the hounds were trying to dig the dirt around it to probably find their way inside.
Could it be?
"Hey, anyone in there?" John yelled out, knocking hard on the steel door.
At first, nothing, but after a couple of seconds a gruff voice replied.
"Is it safe out there? Did you come to rescue us?"
John, unsure how to respond, looked around him.
"Ehh, that would be a no… to both of the questions... But I can help you out and lead you back to the city if you want."
Clearly caught off guard by his answer, John could hear a hushed argument, and a new female voice joined in.
"What do you want from us?"
"Umm, nothing?" John replied back, a bit confused.
"If nothing, what are you doing on our property, hmm?" She continued, unsatisfied with his answer.
"I was around and noticed the abandoned house and I looked around for some kind of a weapon, that's all. I didn't even know someone was still here until I took care of those damned Rothounds."
"So you admit you are a thief, who…" she was interrupted by the other speaker, leading to another hushed argument and making John lose his patience.
"Okay, you know what, I'll leave you to your cellar. Just a bit of advice, take the chance you have, and get to the city. You really don't want to stay around here for long."
As John was walking towards the hole in the fence, the cellar door opened, and a scared pair in their thirties stepped out, looked around, and ran to him.
"Wait, please, we… What is going on? And what is that electric ball flying above your head?" The questions continued until John stopped them, and carefully explained the important bits.
"Could you still help? We were locked in there from yesterday, and we have no idea what to do." The lady begged.
"Is that my baseball bat?" The guy suddenly asked.
"Yep," John nodded his head. "Though if you want my help, I am keeping it. Need something to smash their heads in, and this thing should work nicely." Taking a moment to think, he added, "you know what, you both should also grab something. Ideally a hammer or something sharp. Not a knife though, it needs to be strong enough to cut their head off. And maybe some food as well."
The woman, Tamara, was unsure about the weapons, but her husband, Rick, knew exactly what to pick, and five minutes later, Tam was carrying a large backpack filled with food, and her husband was coming out from his garage with a huge grin on his face.
"So John, what do you think?" In his duffle bag, he had a machete, two small wood axes, one heavy hammer, and carrying over his shoulder a demolitionist sledgehammer.
"Well damn, I guess you are ready to go out into the zombie apocalypse." John and Rick laughed, but a sharp look from Tam made Rick stop short.
"You should get your cards. Honestly, I'd suggest a rare, but I'll leave it up to you."
"A rare card? What is that?" Rick asked, but John only nodded toward the closest zombies and told them to stay back.
Being careful and pulling five, he made short work of them, leaving two paralyzed on the ground.
"Rick, use that big ass hammer, and smash its head."
Standing unsure, his bravado gone, Rick carefully walked towards it and using his large body as a swing lifted the hammer above his head, and with all might and weight swung down. Unfortunately, his stress and full strength left little room for accuracy, and instead of the head, the hammer hit the middle of its chest, crushing the bones like kindling and burying the hammerhead into the dirt below. The zombie twitched but stayed alive even with a large hole in the middle of its chest.
John, looking at the guy, shook his head and told him to swing again, emphasizing the need to hit the head, and letting his wisp strike the second zombie to make sure it stays down.
Rick, apologizing, lifted his hammer, and swung down with all his might, missing again, and hitting its shoulder, crushing it beneath and making the whole arm fly away.
"Oh, for god's sake Ricky, give me that," Tamara cried out, stomping up to him, taking the hammer from his hands, and giving him the one-handed wood axe. "John said cutting the head works, so stop messing around with the stupid hammer and get to work!" Finishing her outcry, she looked at John with the sorry my husband is an idiot look.
John, trying to suppress the laugh, looked at Rick and added, "well you heard her, chop-chop."
The wounded look on Rick's face was priceless, but after two cuts, the head fell off and Rick whistled in surprise, his undignified show long forgotten.
"John, how do I use it?" He asked, once again grinning like a fool.
"Ehh, depends on what you have. First, please be careful, this is not a game. Usually saying or thinking of the name of the ability and what you want to do with it is enough."
"What are you talking abo…" Tamara frowned but was loudly interrupted by Rick's loud cry.
"Overwhelming might!" And his whole body started glowing with a slight red hue.
"I feel… wonderful," Rick spoke in marvel, admiring his hands emit dark-red smoke. "Hey, Tami, give me that hammer."
She looked at him in confusion, passed him the sledgehammer, and watched in amazement as he waved it around like a wooden stick.
The display of strength was inspiring, but even though John didn't want to put a damper on his fun, he was afraid of what would happen if the ability ended abruptly, asked him to calm down, be careful, and wait for it to run out and figure out the duration. In the meantime, Tamara picked up the hammer from the duffle bag, and without any preamble crushed the second zombie's head in three precise hits.
"Huh, that is interesting." She placed her palm on the ground, and after three seconds a brown rune formed there, floating slightly above the dirt. "Can we try luring one of them into it?"
"What does it do?" John asked, intrigued by the odd ability.
"It's called Shrapnel rune-trap, it should pop when something steps on it, sadly I have no idea if it can harm us, so we better stay away."
Oh, this could be good, John thought, already luring the next group in.