The little time Eleanor had spent enjoying herself had not gone in vein. Swift's men were not only entertaining, but made of great company, as well. They were interested in the tales of her travels and shared ones of common interest. Of course, they were your typical group of men. Always teasing one another and making foolish jests. But around a lady, they did their best to mind their manners. It was such a disappointment when nightfall came. A heavy aura weighed on the camp as they prepared for battle and she ascended the stairs to her post.

Elle looked coyly over wall, examining the area below. The men had dug trenches around the back wall of the fort, hoping to slow down the hollowmen's advances. The mortar had proven to be a fine means of defense. And she did not intend to let the men down.

Ben examined her from afar. He wouldn't waste such an opportunity. She was a bit younger than he was. But he tried not to think about it as it would spoil his fun. There was nothing more in the world that he enjoyed more than a challenge. He wasn't exactly sure how difficult this challenge may become... more so if the prize would be worth it, for that matter. But his pride was one hundred percent behind him as he continued to watch.

"So what do I need to do, Captain?" Eleanor said, looking to him for an answer. She stood with her hands held behind her back, no longer bashful of his gaze. If the men wanted to make anything clear, it was that Ben was a very capable captain. And quite the bloke to boot. "He has the best stories," they said. Couldn't get enough of the guy. But she still couldn't help but feel a sense of uneasiness as she caught him staring at her from time to time.

"I would think you would have examined me well enough," she smirked so boldly.

Ben chuckled as he put down his head. "You'll have to forgive me. It's been awhile since I've actually seen a woman. I learn to appreciate it. You know?"

"I doubt that," Elle retorted, leaning against the canon. "Just show me what needs to get done and we'll have you back to the tavern wenches in no time."

"Right," he grumbled, admitting defeat. "I don't suppose you've ever used a mortar before. There's nothing to it. There's always a slight chance of maiming, of course. But I'm sure you'll pick it up"

She wrinkled her nose at his last few words and assumed her position behind the canon, grabbing the handles that were obviously meant for aiming. She gave it a little heave and realized the thing was quite solid.

"It's heavy," she grunted.

Ben looked at her with a mischievous smile, the twinkle in his eye as clear as ever.

"It's not that heavy," she corrected before he even had the chance to offer assistance.

"Then you shouldn't have any trouble. First, I'd like you to meet Private Jammy. He'll be your loader."

"Pleasure to meet you," the soldier sniveled. "It's true what they say about me, you know. Jammiest soldier in Albion. Seven hundred and twenty-four wounds and still standing."

"Charmed," Elle said, a bit taken back by all the bloodstains.

"Don't worry," Ben chuckled. "You'll get used to him. After a while, he's hardly revolting at all. Right, Jammy. It's time to show her the ropes."

"Yes, sir!" He pointed to something in the distance. "You see that dummy over there?"

Sophie tilted forward to look. "You mean the pile of sticks?"

"I worked really hard on that," Jammy said sadly in the background.

"Don't mind her, Jammy. Your dummies look fine."

Elle rolled her eyes.

"That's what you're aiming for," Ben instructed.

She took aim and fired. It was difficult for her to counter her weight with the cannon. But she could manage. The strength in her arms was surprising. She made a small grunt as she swiveled to the next target. Ben twitched as she fired. She wasn't sure if it was the perfect shot or the grunt that got him excited. She looked over to him with a wicked grin. To think she was actually enjoying this.

"One more left," he nodded his head in approval.

She steadied herself and fire one more time. It was yet another spot-on shot. The smile she proudly wore slowly began to fade as she noticed the dummy she had just desecrated began to stir. From the ground underneath the well put together sticks came a hand, broken and blistered. Its skin was just barely hanging onto the bone. And with the hand came its arm attached to a shoulder than dangled loosely next to its neck and head. Eleanor had never seen the likes of a hollowman before. She had heard stories and they always frightened her. Seeing in person, however, was a different story.

One by one, the shambles of the undead rose from the dirt. Eleanor was stunned, standing motionless at her spot at the mortar. She watched as hordes of them begin to rise by the fort and off in the distance. It was then she realized they were only frail corpses of once great men. There really was nothing to fear. Not while she had the cannon in front of her, her pistol on her hip, and her sword at her side.

"It's about that time. Show them what you've got," Ben said, clapping her on the shoulder.

With a nod, she gripped the handles of the mortar and began letting loose all the fury the weapon had. Turn to one side. Shoot. One horde down. Turn to the left. Shoot. Another horde down. She was relentless, not letting a single hollowman get away with feeling the wrath of a giant metal ball powered by gun powder. All was going well, on her side of the fort. It wasn't until Ben had left her side to join the battle that she caught a glimpse of the desperation of the men below her. She would not let them down. She continued her effort to lessen the mass of the undead coming from the swamp.

"Elle!" Walter called. "Get down here!"

She couldn't hear much over the loud blast of the cannon, but she definitely heard her name. It was time her sword was needed on the battlefield. Her defense wasn't enough to keep the hollowmen at bay. They came from all sides and they came in many numbers. One here and there was easy enough. But the men were fighting nearly three at a time. They were doing well, to Elle's surprise. But at this pace, the ratio would be one to every five. She needed to do something. With a nod to Jammy, she hopped off the wall. He gave a short salute before he turned to take over the cannon.

"It's about time, Princess," Ben yelled from behind the statue.

He had been using his rifle for as long as he could. But the hollowmen had destroyed the box fort he was hiding behind and were now on top of him in a mess. Swordplay wasn't his area of expertise. But he definitely knew how to use one. Elle was impressed not only by the captain, but by the other men as well. Of course, with a leader like Swift, you couldn't expect any less. They roared with fury across the battlefield. Just being in their presence was enough for Eleanor to go wild. Even the dog that had been hiding in a corner came out to bite the ankles of undead.

Eleanor began to unleash flurry after flurry, annihilating anything in her way. Her hands shook with rage and she couldn't help but smile as she watched their heads roll. In fact, within the first few minutes of her participating efforts, the odds of the battle were cut in half. The men who were downed were pulled away from the field, the riflemen returned to their posts, and those who had been fighting were able to catch their breath. It was as if the whole fort paused to watch Elle work.

Captain Finn took good aim when he heard Elle cry out in pain. He quickly switched his sights to her cause. She was wounded on her open arm, not that it slowed her down any. He watched as she continued her fight. It was as if she was dancing. She spun on her toes, gracefully sliding her blade across the chest of every hollowman that neared her. The battle was nearly won. A few hollowmen lingered in the distance. But it was nothing Jammy couldn't take care of.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The soldiers looked to each other in confusion. Nobody noticed the hand creeping up from Lt. Simmons' grave. It wiggled back and forth, seeking something to grab. It realized there wasn't anything that was going to help it out from the grave it was laying in. There was a burst of heavy power through the air. Everyone in the area, including the legion of undead, was blown three feet from their original standing place.

Ben rubbed the back of his head, feeling a bump the size of an apple. He groaned in pain as he rose to his feet. His back was bound to have bruises as well. Questions flew through his mind as he lay wounded on the ground. He could barely make out anything in front of him. But he could make out a slight figure in the haze. Who would be strong enough to pick themselves up after a blow like that? He was in pretty good shape himself. If he had not been so close to the wall, he would be able to get back up. Slowly, he turned his head to look at his surroundings. Nobody else was getting up. He didn't get a chance to actually see what was in front of him. The black circles in his eyes began to grow larger. Before he completely drifted away, he remembered seeing a slight glowing light. Something inside him said it was Elle.