Eldham

As it turned out, the journey to Eldham actually led John specifically up and to the north-east. It was far off, unlike the first village that John had raided and claimed. In the first village, Bleakfield, it took him almost half a day just to get there and kill everything. This time, it would have taken even longer if Mub hadn't been there. The time difference in the barrier had helped, but not by much.

Before they left, the Orcish smith had pulled John's raiding pack aside to stop at the edge of town. He led them to a small, private corner of the village where an old, grey-haired, human man helped them at the request of his master and rented them a small grouping of easy-to-saddle horses. The hard part that John had to learn to deal with in the saddle was adjusting to the stiff, uncomfortable seat; it hurt like hell to ride on, but at least it was faster than walking, and he learned fairly quickly... thanks to his own abilities.

New Skill: Born to Ride. Level 1, Passive.
Born to Ride: This skill measure the level of experience and skill you have to command and lead your mounts with. The higher the level you have with this ability, the easier it is to control your mount.

Mub was the first one to demand the right to lead them there, much to the disappointment of the others, and John let him. Since he didn't know the way and he didn't care one way or another who rode at the head of the pack, John let Mub stand as its face. The Orc took his position proudly and rode hard enough to make sure the other Orcs had to taste the dirt his horse kicked up just to try and rub it in. They traveled for so long that almost two whole day and night cycles went by in the barrier before they finally reached Eldham, though days were much, much shorter while within the Kingdom. When John checked how much time had actually passed on his phone, he was more than a little sad to find that the day had passed over into Sunday.

They rode by old, mossy, stone ruins, waves of rolling endless hills, and even stopped a few times at the nearby ponds and lakes to water the horses and eat, but it was never for very long. They had a destination, and John was focused on getting there. When they finally stopped, his thighs were stiff and aching, but thanks to his Gamer's Body he didn't get any blisters or wounds from pressing so hard. He had four new levels in his new Born to Ride ability, and his horse had finally begun to listen to John when the Gamer learned how to use minor techniques to turn him one way or another. Most of the time, the horse had been the one to lead; John just pointed the way and let him have the reins. Now, he swung out of his saddle with a loud, **** groan while his pack took the horses and tied them to a forgotten post made of stone bricks and covered in dying, brown vines.

Eldham itself was a town that was smaller than Bleakfield, but only because of the state of decay. Walking towards the village was like trudging through warm, grey snow because of how thickly ash had covered the ground. The smell of smoke, dust, and rot filled his nostrils as they approached, but the only things left to see in the village that were still standing were large, thin, colorless pillars of stone and brick... and the dead. Eldham was filled with zombies and skeletons. They didn't aimlessly walk or lurch about like some of the recently deceased had in John's first raid. They stood silently, in bodies that had long since passed over to the other side, and watched over the hill that John approached from as if waiting for an enemy. In a way, it was like looking upon an army, while the only source of color in the area glowed with a stifling purple light behind it. It was so powerful that the light seemed almost too bright to look at, covered nearly the entire town with its horrible glow, and was far too familiar to the Gamer.

It was the same kind of thing that had taken Urga's eyesight away, a Beacon of Ruin.

As soon as they saw John's pack, the Hallowed began to move, and his Orcs bristled nervously. He watched as his men began to lift their weapons to fight, and then he had to stop them when they tried to charge forward. They looked confused when John reached out to grab and pull his men back, but after he started to yank on Putt's shoulder, Mub moved to try and help him. They carefully stepped a little further away from the enemy, and Mub cocked an eyebrow at his new Alpha.

"We can't charge out to meet them." he explained, and immediately his pack snarled in anger. "You don't fight zombies while they're in big groups like that! That's how you get surrounded! You fight them one at a time and pick them off until there are no more!"

"Coward," Putt barked at him and shook his club menacingly. "You-"

"We will still fight them," he didn't bother waiting for Putt to try and finish his sentence. The Orc was challenging his decision, he had to act! "Unless you want to try and figure out how to kill them on your own?" he said, and Putt snarled. The heavily tattooed warrior raised his club threateningly for a moment... and then let it drop. His lips tightened and sealed shut around two large, thick tusks as he waited for John to explain, and Rugga leaned in close to listen. "Zombies are generally slow and stupid," he started and watched as his pack tilted their heads at the word 'zombie.' "The dead," he pointed out to the veritable army of soldiers marching towards them. They were closer now, and John could see little flashes of purple light glinting off pieces of steel in some of their hands. They had weapons this time. "actually can't fight us one at a time. They're too weak like that. If we kill them one by one, we can claim the town." Rugga leaned in further, his eyes twinkling with interest at the idea of claiming and earning something.

The only problem with that plan was how badly outnumbered they were. At first glance, it was incredibly clear to John just how many more zombies there were in Eldham compared to the first village he had raided. In Bleakfield, there had been a little over forty different zombies, but in Eldham, there was twice that number. They were four people... left to fight against almost a hundred different dead men.

There wasn't much for John to consider with the way the area had decayed. He couldn't fight the army one at a time like he had with the first village. All of the undead army saw them, and even with his pack, he couldn't finish them all off. They would have been overwhelmed. He couldn't even use the village itself to his own advantage. Eldham was practically just a skeleton of what it had once been. There were no large, barely standing houses to use for cover or as a funnel to lessen the amount of monster they dealt with at one time. The most he had available to him inside Eldham were simple rocks or wilting chimneys that had not yet completely fallen over, and even then... all of that was inside the Beacon's purple light. If he chose to try and use the village to his advantage, the beacon would be able to cast spells on them as soon as they stepped into the purple light.

His best option, at least when it came to dealing with the army itself, was to try and maintain a position on one of the nearby hills while the dead came to them. That way they could have just used the ash-slick terrain to their own advantage as well as the height that the hill would have given them. Four people... to hold a hill against a hundred dead men...

The better idea would have been to charge the Beacon of Ruin itself if not for the fact that John was fairly certain that it would have recalled all the zombies to attack him. There was a possibility that it could have been worth it to try and attack the Beacon. If he had destroyed it, then there was always the chance that all of the zombies would have just dropped dead without that source of power. If he was wrong, however, then it would have left him in a situation where he would have been surrounded and then killed off by the horde of enemies. It was also possible that he could have been surrounded like that even before he destroyed the beacon. Unfortunately though, he wasn't the only one that noticed.

Putt got the same idea.

"What about that?" he asked and pointed past the hoards of rotting faces. His thick, green, calloused finger wavered slightly in the air as they all turned to look at the beacon on the northern edge of the city. This beacon was gigantic compared to the first one that John had seen. Where the first one floated as a single gem in the center of a large, circular, obsidian altar, this one was anchored to the ground like a large, frozen pillar. Long, stray shards of amethyst grew up from the ground at precise, indented angles. Each new pillar pointed at the primary structure like they had been drawn to it and grown at a horrible rate, until some were even stabbing through the obsidian altar construct that had been set up around it. The smooth, nearly-flawless, translucent surfaces of each stone shifted with the passing seconds. Images of long, marred, white faces flickered across the stone’s surfaces as the group stared at it while the air grew cold and thick.

Strangely enough, he didn't hear any wailing or moaning coming from the crystal this time though.

"That summons them," John grunted and immediately tried to turn away from the idea. He wasn't keen on going on a suicide mission when there was always a possibility for another option. With four Orcs there, he just had to figure out how to lessen the amount of zombies that they all faced at a time. He just needed to-

"Can't we just kill that then?" Putt asked and lifted his club up. The Orc didn't even hesitate, he just started stomping his way down the hill towards the village and breathing heavily to get himself ready for battle. John balked at the Orc as he quickly slipped off to one side of the army and began to charge towards the beacon and its horrible purple light.

"No!" the gamer snapped and watched Putt charge forward regardless. He darted after the Orc, and his hand shot out to try and grab him, but Putt was too fast for John. His agility was higher, and he wasn't about to stop just because 'some human' told him to. "Don't-" he tried to warn him not to step into the beacon's light... but it was already too late.

Just as Mub tried to pull John back and 'inform' him that they weren't cowards, they were proven and had nothing to be afraid of, Putt suddenly tripped and fell. His muscular green body slid a few feet across the ashy, slick ground and then finally stopped, almost a whole fifty feet away from the crystal. The Orc pushed himself up to his knees while Mub and Rugga scoffed at him... but he was already in the circle of light that the Beacon cast around the surrounding area. His head lifted up, and all of the other members of the tribe watched while long, dark, thick lines of blood began to drip down the sides of his cheeks. Putt never even managed to get a word out edgewise. When he opened his mouth, no sound came out. The other Orcs next to John stood silently as the Orc's skin lightened slightly, changing from a deep emerald green color into a gentle lime for a moment... and then his skin went ashen and pale. His body lost all color as Putt began to claw and scratch at his face, as if that might help him to see again, but his eyes were already slick and red.

They stood there on the hill for only a few seconds longer before the army of dead converged on Putt, and then John began to step back over the hill when the horde finally parted. Putt stood back up again, with a hundred new cuts and marks on his body, but his eyes saw nothing and his heart did not beat any more. Whatever plan of attack John had been thinking of with his pack was immediately tossed out the window with the Orc's ****, and he called for his pack to follow him out of the undead army's sight. The other Orcs hesitated for a single second to stare at Putt's lurching, now-undead form one more time before they finally listened to him and walked back to the horses.

Now he only had three people in his pack, and there was no way he could see just the three of them fighting off nearly a hundred dead men without losing anymore people.

"What's the plan?" Mub asked finally, his eyes scanning over the Gamer's features for a long moment. He was actually waiting for an answer and advice this time instead of resorting to the standard Orcish traditions. John was impressed, for a moment, and then he had to give him the answer he had been dreading. They needed help.

"We have to go back to camp. We can't do this," he said and looked over at the four horses they had brought with them. It was the only thing that made sense. They needed more fighters.

His pack had to see the sense in something like that.