London | Guts & Blackpowder

LONDON, 1815

The undead had overrun the streets of London, forcing the few remaining survivors to seek shelter wherever they could. With little food, dwindling ammunition, and nowhere left to run, a small group of soldiers had found refuge within the walls of St Paul's Cathedral.

You and the remaining members of your squad were gathered on the upper galleries of the cathedral. You hadn't seen a proper meal in days, and your supplies were running dangerously low. The undead swarmed below, leaving no chance of descending and escaping the building.

You sat beside your comrades, gazing out towards the horizon. The city you once called home had become a nightmare. Streets lay in ruins, buildings burned, and the living were slowly being overwhelmed by the very creatures that now roamed the country.

Suddenly, a faint noise caught everyone's attention. It sounded like... human speech?

Your officer immediately stood up and motioned for everyone to get ready. He approached the edge of the wooden scaffolding, drawing his pistol and pointing it towards the lower floor.

Officer: "Who's there?! Show yourself! If you're not infected, make yourself known!"

To everyone's surprise, a lone soldier wearing the uniform of the 23rd Regiment of Foot appeared below. He looked exhausted, frightened, and barely able to stand.

Officer 2: "H-Hey! Easy there, lad! Don't shoot! I'm one of the King's men, just like yourselves!"

He cautiously began climbing the ladders towards the others. Despite this, your officer kept his pistol trained on the newcomer.

Officer: "Who are you? What happened out there?"

Officer 2: "Listen, there's no time for questions! We need to get out of here, and quickly!"

Officer: "How in God's name did you make it here alive?"

Officer 2: "Look... You lot were fortunate enough to be inside the cathedral. We were outside, trying to hold the streets against them. But one by one... my comrades fell to the Blight. I was the only one who managed to escape."

He paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

Officer 2: "Everything's fallen apart! The chain of command, for Heaven's sake! Soldiers turning against their own officers, men attacking their comrades... Even the civilians have gone mad! Entire defensive positions have been overrun. It's an absolute nightmare!"

Officer: "And where exactly do you expect us to go? The bridges have been blown to bits! We're trapped here! Besides, our orders were to hold our position and face the enemy, not abandon it!"

Officer 2: "We'll all be dead if we stay! Look at you! You're running out of food, ammunition, everything! Just look over there!"

He pointed towards the western horizon.

Officer 2: "West... Westminster! The bridge leading there still seems to be intact. The Horse Guards must have managed to hold their position. It's our only chance!"

Your officer hesitated, looking towards the distant bridge before finally lowering his pistol.

Officer: "Very well. We'll make our way there. Though, thanks to your little arrival, you've attracted the attention of every last cannibal in this damned city."

Officer 2: "With your men alongside us, nothing can stop us!"

Officer: "We'd better move, then. Who knows how much longer that bridge will remain standing..."

He turned towards the rest of the squad.

Officer: "Musicians! Play something to keep up morale! We'll need every bit of it. Infantry, fix bayonets! We're about to do something dishonourable, dangerous, and perhaps downright foolish. But I'd rather be court-martialled than buried in this bloody city! We must get out alive, and live long enough to tell the tale! Understood?!"

The soldiers nodded in agreement. With bayonets fixed and instruments ready, the small group prepared to descend into the streets.

Their escape from London had begun.