I Hate Being CONTROLLED
Beneath the silent vigil of Lenny and Minnie, the landscape below was consumed by an eerie spectacle of death and mutation. The undead army, a grotesque amalgamation of once-living beings, now marched as a relentless horde towards Glenn's territory. Their numbers were vast, a dark sea of decay that spread across the land with insidious intent.
Each step taken by the undead was a macabre echo of life's finality, their feet dragging against the earth in a haunting rhythm that spoke of their inescapable bondage to whatever dark will drove them forward.
The sound of their movement was a chilling symphony of despair, the scraping of bone against stone, and the muffled thuds of decaying flesh meeting the hardened ground.