[the gingerbread zombies are only caught by surprise -- assuming they can even feel surprise -- for a moment, but a moment is enough for the shower of bullets to hammer into them, blowing dozens of neat holes in their overbaked bodies. the foul stench intensifies as icing splatters the ground for yards around.
unfortunately, it barely seems to slow them down.
they're silent as they leap to their feet and break into a run. it's almost worse than a roar or hiss or battlecry would be, their faceless heads intent, their sprint covering far more ground than it has a right to. they don't bother to dodge, even when Tide turns to narrow his eyes and a hurricane of unseen edges blasts through their formation, severing limbs and heads with abandon. it doesn't stop them; even severed legs only force them to hop with eerie grace instead of run, though it slows them.
they've covered half the distance now, and are still coming.]
no subject
unfortunately, it barely seems to slow them down.
they're silent as they leap to their feet and break into a run. it's almost worse than a roar or hiss or battlecry would be, their faceless heads intent, their sprint covering far more ground than it has a right to. they don't bother to dodge, even when Tide turns to narrow his eyes and a hurricane of unseen edges blasts through their formation, severing limbs and heads with abandon. it doesn't stop them; even severed legs only force them to hop with eerie grace instead of run, though it slows them.
they've covered half the distance now, and are still coming.]