The air was thick with the copper stench of spilled blood and the acrid smoke of burning coal. The metal grating of the central gatehouse was slick with gore. Captain Alden parried a vicious thrust from a mercenary and shoved the attacker back over the steep precipice. The Ashguard commander leaned his weight against his heavy runic shield and gasped for oxygen. Seven hours of relentless combat had drained the energy from his heavy infantry. Their arms felt heavy and unresponsive. The runic steel armor that protected them throughout the afternoon now felt like a suffocating iron cage.
The Silent Brotherhood swarmed the fifty foot walls in endless waves. They utilized their superior numbers to rotate their fresh fighters to the front and drag their wounded away into the darkness. Ashguard
