Reports described their march as an endless, suffocating swarm—soldiers in jagged black armor stained with ichor, twisted beasts dragging along war engines as large as castles, and demons whose forms defied nature, slithering, crawling, and flying in unnatural movements.
Their advance was like a relentless flood, armor clattering and monstrous roars resonating like thunder. Their footsteps shook the land like a drum beating growing louder and louder, each beat as if heralding their obliteration.
Dravik and Rothgard were both clear of one thing, this was not a fight, but a one sided slaughter. Whether it be number or level of their soldier they were completely outmatched.
This was nothing short of marching towards their death. These serfs and peasants turned into soldiers would not even last long and will be trampled underneath and eaten alive by even the lowest ranking monsters.
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