When the dead attack, it is with unnerving silence. The sounds are not unlike a wind through trees. No shouts or coordination, just single minded pursuit. I'd almost prefer the hatred in an enemy's eyes as they attack, instead of their cold dispassionate stare. No urgency, nothing but fuction, and the cold intention to see that function fulfilled.
The dead fight without passion or skill, without tactics or forethought, or even self preservation. They fight with unwavering will. As I strike one down, another steps up to take it's place. My will must be stronger.
Reviewed on 05 Jun 2024
