Zombie horde attack : r/StableDiffusion [https://preview.redd.it/zombie-horde-attack-v0-1f63w87mu7ca1.png?width=2304&format=png&auto=webp&s=0d594effb124be3deeed4407427c6c49af51a669]
https://www.reddit.com/r/StableDiffusion/comments/10cl0z2/zombie_horde_attack/
Unfortunately however Walter’s problems were not over yet as the undead smashed their way in through the door. With the stench of death cloying at his nostrils, Walter blindly threw himself out the already shattered window.
Half landing upside down on his head, he felt his trousers snag on something, and looked up to see a jagged bit of glass stabbing into his thigh. Groaning aloud at his luck, he quickly tried to wriggle himself free, when he saw the rotted carcasses of men and women standing at the windowsill.
Clawing at his caught foot with razor sharp fingernails, they tried to drag Walter back inside, before the fabric suddenly gave way.
Grunting as he landed with an audible thud, he stood up, and hurriedly began limping towards his home. Blocked off by eight more undead creatures that had been resurrected from the grave, he soon realized that these undead were somehow different from the rest. Armored head to toe in thick chainmail, they dragged battleaxes behind them, and moved at a much faster pace than the others.
Breath haggard as he felt panic well up in the pit of his stomach, he spun away looking for another way out, and saw the hillock where the marksman had fallen. Figuring he had a better chance with a ranged weapon in hand, he hobbled up the steep slope, when he stumbled on a rock. Slipping halfway back down, Walter couldn't imagine a day any worse than this one, hauled himself back up, and eventually crested the rise with a heavy sigh. Then with a swift look over his shoulder to make sure they were not close behind, he picked up the dead bandit’s weapon and prayed it would still work.
Looking very much like his own bolt action rifle, this one had a large bronze tube attached, and when peering down the barrel, he felt a touch of awe as everything came into sharp focus.
Licking his lips as he watched the undead climb up towards him, Walter aimed the rifle, and after a short breath fired. Knocked back by the blast, Walter had to bite back on his tongue to stop himself from screaming as the gun bucked hard into his shoulder. Losing some skin as well that had been caught in the re-loading mechanism, he couldn’t help but wonder if things could get any worse for him, when the woman’s voice spoke out, “Two of Robar’s men are approaching you from behind.”
Pretty sure he couldn’t fire off another round without seriously injuring himself, Walter pretended that he didn’t know the two bandits were behind him. Peering down the scope of the rifle as he heard the crunch of footsteps, he waited till they were close before he spun around and clobbered the first man with the butt of his weapon. With that bandit dazed for the moment, Walter tossed the rifle at the second, drew his shortsword, and thrust forward. And by some miracle the warrior tripped over the first man’s feet and impaled himself.
Sick to his stomach at all the blood, he kicked the first man in the chest to send him tumbling down the hill, saw the approaching undead from below, and started to run again. By the time he had reached the next knoll, he was drenched in sweat, dirt, and blood, and felt extremely nauseous. But as he turned to see his village still burning, he knew he couldn’t stop yet, and zig zagged down towards his home.
Nearing the small cabin built from clay, thatch, and straw, he almost fell to his knees again as he saw the broken doorway. Steeling his nerves however, he raced inside, and called out, “Ma! Pa! Where are you?” Hearing nothing but the crackle and crash of flames, Walter thought they must have fled, when a familiar voice spoke up from behind him. “Walter?”
Turning to see his ashen stained father in the doorway to his bedroom, Walter cried out in relief, “Father what are you doing here?! Where’s mother?!”
Still dressed in his sweaty brown leather apron, Grimwald replied with a wry smile, “I came here looking for you, boy. As for your mother, she’s back up at the castle where we should be.”
A short, solid man of fifty years, his father had powerful corded muscles, wings of gray hair at his temples, and carried an unusual sword. Covered in runes that hypnotized the eye, Walter wanted to ask his father where he had gotten the blade, when his father spoke softly, “I see you have joined Lord Huxelberry’s Guard despite my wishes.”
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A blush creeping into his cheeks as he reflexively touched his uniform, Walter replied, “I’m sorry, father, but I had no choice.”
His expression turned into granite, Grimwald grunted, “There is always a choice, lad, always. You of all people should know that.” The words, somehow taking him back to that very moment where a boar had come charging at him through the forest.
…Bristling with unbridled fury, its dark brown eyes aglow with hate, it had two arrows stuck in its side, when it turned and pounded towards Penny. Frozen with fear, her face pale, she had stood there unable to move, when like a reckless fool Walter had leaped in front of it.
Trying to wrestle the creature to the ground, he had felt its tusks tearing through his neck, and belly as it squirmed. And as his lifeblood dribbled out beside him, he heard Penny cry, then sweet oblivion.
Awakening next in his bed with his father seated beside him, Grimwald had stared down at him with a dark look of disapproval. “I will not fault your bravery today, Walter. You saved a life, and all life is precious. But you did so at the risk of yours! And only a blind fool tosses his life aside so casually!” He then shook his head, “some choices are harder to make than others, but would it be any better if your mother and I were the ones grieving?”...
Head shaking at the vivid memory, Walter looked down at the sword his father carried, and replied, “I couldn’t sit back, and do nothing.”
Sighing heavily as he looked away, Grimwald replied, “I know, son, I know.” Peering back out the window, his father continued, “Now come, otherwise your mother will start to worry.”
Heading together for the front door, Grimwald led the way, when an undead warrior in rusted armor lurched towards them. Moving with the deftness of a fish, his father crouched on his left heel spinning, his kick knocking the creature off balance, before he chopped off its head. Stunned by how fast his father had moved, Walter opened his mouth to speak, when he saw dozens more close in from the house across the street.
Roaring, “stay near me!” His father’s sword again flashed in the sunlight as he led Walter further down the street. Forced to a slow crawl as they were obstructed by shattered wooden carts, burning buildings that poured out smoke, and dead animal carcasses, Walter struggled to keep up with Grimwald. All the while in the back of his mind Walter couldn't fathom how in the saints his father could move like that. Spinning, dashing, leaping over fallen debris, his father had become an entirely different man. It was almost like he had become someone else.
Gagging on the stench of death all around him, Walter had little warning, when an undead man grabbed hold of his ankle. Missing its own legs, the creature tried to bite a chunk from Walter’s foot, when he furiously kicked it away. But then two more had stumbled out of a burning tavern, their rotted skins kindling for the flames.
Ducking a heavy swing from its mace, Walter hurriedly drew his shortsword, and tried to stab the creature in the chest, only for it to ignore the wound. Its flapping jaws open in a sinister grin, Walter stumbled backwards over the legless zombie, when his father’s sword cleaved clean through its neck. “You need to be more careful, boy! Watch your footing and time your strikes!” The surge of undead warriors that rushed towards him, forced Walter to retreat yet again. Falling back quickly to re-join his father’s side, they fought shoulder to shoulder, Grimwald calling out instructions. “See how they pull back their arms to strike, that is when you counterattack. Careful how you parry their blows, try not to take the full swing, and redirect the attack back towards them.”
Sweating heavily as they finally managed to fight their way free, Walter could feel the sting from dozens of cuts he had taken without noticing. Not to mention the wounds he had already collected in the forest. Pushing himself yet again to move however, Walter trailed after his father as the old man dashed between the Holbart’s and Tothamer’s house, before he straightened up his run as he made for Huxelberry’s stronghold.
But before they could reach the steps that would lead them up, Walter was struck by a thick billow of smoke. Coughing hard as he was briefly blinded, he saw his father look back, and smile. “You’re doing well, boy. Keep it up, we are not far now.”
But despite the encouragement, Walter felt his legs begin to wobble, saw his vision begin to blur, and felt the entire world begin to spin.
Shaking his head to right himself, Walter wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up, when abruptly he stumbled again, and hit his head on something. His chest heaving as he rolled onto his back to stare up into the eerily blue sky, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful his home was. But before he could say as much to his father, he felt rough calloused fingers pick him up, and cradle him in his arms, and then he was bouncing up and down.
Groaning as he felt his body racked by waves of pain, Walter passed in and out of consciousness, and thought he heard his father speaking to him. “I’m so sorry, Walt, I should have better prepared you for this day. I had hoped that by coming out here, and leaving that old life of mine behind that you would be safe. But I should have known better. Fifteen years serving in Lamar’s army, and you’d think I would have learned a thing or two about war. No! Don’t you dare go to sleep, boy! I’m not done with you yet! I haven’t taught you how to hunt! I haven’t taught you how to catch fish, or how to carve a bow! Please, boy! Stay awake!”
Feeling something wet on his cheeks, Walter looked up to see his father crying, but when he tried to say something nothing would come out. Eyes closing shut again, he drifted off into restless sleep…