602, Chapter 2
Posted by Fjarn on Wed 31-Dec-69 07:00 PM
Has it been days? Weeks? Months?
That first night, when the cliff opened, the Commander could barely believe his own eyes. The solid rock shimmered, and a broad wound three times as tall as a man just ... opened ... in the cliff. And they came. They found a way.
The initial clash was ferocious. Claws and fangs met sword and shield. Acidic clouds burst forth from the creatures, but the men's armor protected them. The monsters had been repelled, forced back into the cliff at daybreak.
The Commander looks around himself as the sun lowers in the west. Far to the north, the maw-like crevice now pours an inexhaustable supply of the creatures. His command tent is but a memory - what a luxury that had been! Now he wakes in the mud with the other soldiers. Daylight offers respite, and their only chance to sleep before darkness brings forth the nightmare once more.
Yesterday's report had been grim. Three holdouts remain, but all are separated from each other. The eastern trenchline - the fourth holdout - has fallen, and the High Inquisitor was slain. Ironically, dwarven sappers used the trenches to burrow under the prisoner tents in the chaos. Those wretched Darkfriends must have led the witch and her guardian to safety while his men protected Thera against this onslaught of evil!
With that thought, rage overtakes the feeling of hopelessness. The setting sun announces the beginning of another night of misery. The Commander draws his sword.
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