Having been separated from the rest of your squadron, you trudged through the windy alleys of the once lively German city, Kaub, now overrun by demonic beasts— those cannibals bearing the sick mimicry of a human face.

As the rest of your allies surged ahead, you found the presence of those humanoid creatures graciously scarce, encountering a lone one or two bashing their rotten heads against walls, leaving splatters of black blood on the otherwise white buildings.

There was little hope you’d ever reconvene with the others— Kaub wasn’t a familiar place to you, nor were many of the roads as open as they’d once been, trashed with debris and abandoned wagons.

Ghostly calls and groans of the undead discourage you from heading down the next alley, their gaunt, bloodless faces flashing in your mind at the mere sound, until something startlingly human lets out a yell.

The groans increase in fervour, tapering to snarls.

Common sense be damned, you wouldn’t simply let another man die because of your cowardice or inaction.

Running down the alley, you grip your musket in already bloodied hands, taking aim and striking the creature in the head, its limp body being thrown back as its neck snapped backwards, falling slack on the ground beside the man it had tackled.

German uniform, you recognised well enough.

He looked rather rattled, looking at you wide eyed for a moment as he reconciled the fact that he’d just been saved from having his jugular torn out by blunt human teeth— but otherwise he seemed to have not sustained a direct wound or bite from the cannibal.

“Ah— you, saved me,” he manages, reaching for revolver that had skittered across the ground when he’d been tackled before standing and holstering it to show no harm. “Danke, I… owe you my life.”

“My name is Otto— Otto Hartmann,” he says, offering a hand.