The Commander kneels beside the still corpse of his Captain. They are stronger
now, these nightwalkers. They bring with them darkness, and so can fight even
through the day now. There is no time for rest. No chance to recover.

The numbers of the defenders are dwindling. The other holdouts have not
reported in weeks. He and his two hundred men may very well be the last line.
He'd thought to abandon the encampment entirely, but another army of Darkfriends
had assaulted from the south, forcing him to the far southwest. Into a corner.

"They capitalize on our weakness," the Commander mutters under his breath. A
few nearby soldiers exchange worried glances.