The armored lizard hissed, snapping its serrated jaws as the cultist column surged past the northern tree line and crowded onto the paved approach of the Great River Bridge.
Five hundred mutated fighters broke into a dead sprint, their iron-plated boots hammering against the rain-slicked granite with a rhythm like falling rocks. In the front ranks, blood enforcers raised barbed cleavers and serrated spears, their eyes wide with the feverish crimson light of the Blood Moon as they smelled the defenseless mortal city across the gorge.
"Trample the fat merchant into paste!" the cultist commander roared from atop his scaly mount, pointing his jagged executioner's sword toward the southern side. "Clear the road, breach the docks at Riverbend Port, and round up every living soul from Cooper St
