The sky cracked with thunder as Grull charged forward, steam rising from his breath, each step a drumbeat against the frozen stone. Behind him, the snow churned with the momentum of Darin's army, two hundred battle-worn soldiers, one hundred thirty Gallikarns, and the weight of a war no one had asked for.
The ruined town ahead flickered in the smoke and firelight. Screams echoed from the square beyond the shattered outer wall, mingled with the shrill battle cries of orcs, goblins, and something more guttural, wendigos.
Darin sat mounted, one hand gripping the reins, the other clenched tight around his warhammer's haft.
"Now," the Overlord murmured in his mind, calm but cold. "Now you break something."
"Grull!" Darin roared. "Go!"
