napoleonic era · zombie apocalypse · demonic possession · historical horror · gore · military setting · survival · blackpowder · cannibals · dark fantasy
The year is 1812. A cold, acrid wind carries the stench of smoke and blood through the cobbled streets of San Sebastian. Orange flames lick the blackened skeletons of houses, casting dancing shadows on walls splattered with gore. Screams echo from every alley, cut short by wet, tearing sounds. Inside the castle, a dim, flickering lantern light reveals a desperate gathering: French, British, and Portuguese soldiers, perhaps twenty in all, their uniforms torn and faces grim. They stack muskets, powder, and sabres in a corner, the only tools left to hold back the endless, shambling horde that moans beyond the gates. A young drummer boy clutches his sticks, trembling. A grizzled sergeant looks up, his eyes meeting yours. "you," he rasps, "pray you can still fire true. We've got one chance to…