Re: Apocalypse Game

Chapter 193 Watchtower

In a remote outpost situated 80 miles to the north of the besieged area, a small group of players found themselves facing a grim and precarious situation. Fear and uncertainty hung heavily in the air as the ominous sounds of the approaching undead horde grew louder, echoing through the desolate landscape.

The group grapples with their sense of dread and urgency. Among them was Pinball, known for his distinctive mohawk hairstyle, who voiced his concerns with a sense of urgency.

"They've found us! We should run while we can!" His eyes darted around the room, searching for signs of agreement.

Daniel took a different stance. His voice carried a note of determination as he countered, "No, we'll wait for Mr. D." There was a resolve in his eyes that suggested he believed in their chances of survival against the encroaching threat.

Meanwhile, Smiley, his terror palpable, listened to the menacing cadence of the undead's advance. Fearful for their lives, he made a desperate plea. "We... we should leave with the horses, outrun them, and come back later for Mister Alan!" His voice wavered as he tried to convince the others of what he believed to be their best chance at survival.

As the tension in the outpost mounted, the small group of survivors found themselves at a crossroads, faced with a critical decision that would ultimately determine their fate in the face of this dire and relentless onslaught.

Amidst the heated arguments, it was young Kenny who stepped forward with a suggestion that caught everyone's attention.

"Let him take the horses," Kenny said firmly, his voice carrying a hint of resolve that stood in contrast to the chaos unfolding around them.

Before anyone else could interject or offer alternative solutions, Kenny began to explain his plan. He proposed that Smiley should take all the twenty horses and ride away from the watchtower. The hope was that the sight of twenty riders would distract the pursuing undead, leading them away from the group. If the plan succeeded, it would buy them some time and perhaps even spare them from the impending danger.

Kenny's reasoning resonated with many in the group. They understood the importance of preserving their means of transport. After all, even if they managed to repel the undead, they would need the horses to return to the besieged southern regions.

The consensus within the group quickly shifted in favor of Kenny's plan. However, Smiley, who had initially advocated for escaping with the horses, suddenly found himself gripped by fear at the prospect of leaving the safety of the watchtower alone.

Milo's hand landed reassuringly on Smiley's shoulder, offering a silent show of support. "We're putting our hope in you," he said, his voice carrying a mix of encouragement and trust.

Overwhelmed by the weight of their expectations, Smiley couldn't hold back his tears. With a deep breath and a trembling resolve, he swiftly mounted one of the horses and kicked its sides into a gallop. The remaining horses were roped together to follow closely behind as Smiley rode away from the outpost.

All eyes in the outpost were fixed on Smiley's dwindling figure as he approached the approaching undead horde. To their relief, they witnessed a portion of the undead divert from their path, drawn by the lone rider on horseback. Cheers erupted from the group as it became evident that Smiley's daring gambit was working, albeit partially.

However, the majority of the undead continued their relentless march towards the outpost. Despite the momentary respite, the survivors knew that their battle was far from over.

Looking at Smiley's figure as he rode away from the outpost, disappearing into the shroud of the night, Pinball said, "I don't think he'll be back."

Milo chose to ignore the remark and refocused their collective resolve. "Let's get ready."

The Italian boxer sprang into action. He bounded up to the first floor of the watchtower, surveying the area and swiftly rearranging the broken furniture and available materials to create makeshift barriers and obstacles. Others soon joined him in this desperate effort, working together to set up defenses to delay the approaching undead.

Minutes after the battle at the outpost commenced, the scene quickly transformed into one of controlled chaos. At the entrance of the outpost, Milo, Percival, and Dagonet stood as a formidable frontline, utilizing their impressive strength to prevent the relentless tide of zombies and skeletons from breaching the outpost's defenses. Their combined efforts formed a sturdy wall of defense, holding back the undead horde.

Meanwhile, other players stationed themselves on the second floor, making effective use of firearms, bows even rocks to provide covering fire. Rose, their sharpshooter, took careful aim and fired her shots with precision, always targeting the most critical threats among the approaching undead.

Despite the dire circumstances, the survivors displayed remarkable coordination and resilience as they fought to protect their outpost and, ultimately, their lives.

With just eighteen survivors, they exhibited astonishing resilience, managing to hold their ground for a full hour before the dreaded Revenants began to appear. This monstrous creature proved to be a formidable adversary, easily tossing the NPC champions aside when they managed to breach the outpost's defenses.

Amidst the chaos, desperate calls to "Hold the line!" rang out among the players. None dared to engage the Revenants head-on, fearing their overwhelming power. However, a glimmer of hope arrived in the form of an unexpected savior—a young girl, Izzie with special power. Her shadow guardian form, though diminutive, was no less mighty than the Revenant itself. It was able to grapple with the C-rank monstrosity, giving the players a precious opportunity to strike it down.

For another grueling hour, they battled tirelessly, destroying hundreds of undead foes. But their stamina dwindled, and injuries began to take their toll. The defensive line they had so valiantly held finally crumbled.

As despair threatened to consume them, they found themselves pushed to the top of the outpost's watchtower, their escape routes blocked. It was at this critical moment that a ray of hope pierced the darkness.

Dozens of torches emerged from the surrounding forest, and a group of warriors charged toward the watchtower. At their helm stood a familiar figure—Alan, leading this daring rescue mission.

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