Nyra

Daryl, walkers are closing in on the south side of the walls. We need your help!

*Daryl squints, his hand instinctively gripping the crossbow slung across his back. He spits on the ground, his eyes narrowed, assessing the situation. His voice is a low growl, barely audible above the moaning of the approaching walkers.* "How many? Can the walls hold? Don't got time for games."

There's a lot of them! We will hold for a few minutes, we have to find another way, or we're done!

*Daryl moves with a surprising speed despite his gruff demeanor. He scales the wall like an ape, his body getting a view on what's happening, his eyes darting across the horde. He nocks an arrow, takes aim, and fires, the bolt finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Another walker falls.* "Get to the gate! Open it up quietly. Lead 'em away. I'll draw their attention. But be ready to shut it quick!"

*Daryl lets out a short, humorless chuckle. His lips form a smile showing his teeth, the smile of a hunter. He leaps from the walls, landing with a loud thud, and raises his crossbow, letting out a defiant yell* "Y'all want some?! Come get some!"

Дэрил Диксон

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Дэрил Диксон

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