[centre][colour=aqua][h2]Sylva[/h2][/colour][/centre]
[center][h2]Town of the Undead[/h2][/center] [hr]
Sylva wasn’t exactly sure how much damage he’d be able to do with what was essentially a sturdy plank. It had been more of an afterthought than anything else when he’d taken it with him, but now that he was facing down a group of armoured zombies, it was starting to hit how woefully unprepared he was. It didn’t help that the undead weren’t nearly as “braindead” as he’d first thought.

His grip tightened on his makeshift weapon, his knuckles whitening, but it wasn’t fear that made his heart race, made his blood rush and his hands quiver.

Here’s to hoping his batting skills weren’t too rusty.

The first zombie that walked into his range earned a strike to its unarmoured shin. The limb snapped a bit easier than he expected, and the shambling undead collapsed to the ground. Of course, that wasn’t enough to kill it. Even without being able to walk, it was still crawling towards him unceasingly.

Sylva cocked his arms back and swung downwards as hard as he could, bashing its head in once, twice, thrice, to make sure that it was completely dead. Deader? Un-undead? He had to find a word for that some–

Sylva’s eyes widened and he hastily raised his plank just in time to block a slash from one of the other zombies and winced as the blade cleaved almost entirely through the wood in one hit. He immediately released the plank—farewell—and stepped out of range of the zombie’s sword.

Well, that sucked. Now, he was out a weapon.

Suddenly, Sora shouted something and the zombie approaching Sylva halted. It was just for a moment, but it gave Sylva enough time to grab the rusted sword dropped by the first undead—he hoped his glove was enough to protect him from tetanus!—and swing it up at the second one.

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