Days passed in a type of quagmire. The undead, endless in number, advanced upon the border wall. Crashing like an incessant wave, unrelenting in pressure. Yet the wall stood.
Thanks to all the upgrading that had been done over time, the wall was no longer just a pile of wooden logs struck into hardened ground. Though it wasn't quite a stone wall either. It was something between the two. Stone made up the foundation, while wood gave it elevation.
The undead would crash into the stone, where the mages would let fire rain down upon them. This sometimes caused the wood to catch aflame. The backup mages would quickly douse the flames and fire retardant would be applied anew—if time allowed.
Sadly, time was more often than not lacking. As a result, the upper part of the wall was now covered in burnt wood. Quick repairs kept it from falling apart, though the occasion hole could be found here and there.
