The day was alive with the sounds of battle—the whistle of arrows slicing through the air, the dull thud of them striking flesh, and the desperate shouts of men fleeing for their lives.
"Shields up! SHIELDS UP, YOU FOOLS!"
The order barely reached the ears of the retreating Herculean soldiers before another volley rained down upon them. Dark silhouettes ran for cover, their armor glinting faintly , their breath ragged and filled with panic. Some made it to the camp; others did not.
"Aghh!" A man crumpled forward, an arrow buried deep in his shoulder. Another staggered, gripping at his leg where a shaft had punched clean through his thigh, his blood soaking the cold ground. A third barely had time to scream before an arrow took him in the throat, sending him sprawling face-first into the mud.
From the walls of Bracum, triumphant cheers rose into the air.
"Run faster, you dogs! Perhaps next time, you'll bring ladders that don't snap like twigs!"
