The intimidating aura of war permeated the world. Flags were torn and tattered, fluttering fiercely in the wind, ready to fall at any moment.
Above the city walls, dead bodies lay. The injured bled without stop, yet no one was there to clean up. The stench of blood mingled with sweat, filling the air, offending the senses.
The fires of war had finally reached Aust City. The nobles of the Orton Duchy, with no room for retreat, had exploded with their maximum potential at the critical moment of life and death.
Agonizing screams echoed, tugging at heartstrings. Led by nobles from the city, blood-soaked Orton soldiers let out soul-shattering cries.
Such screams were contagious, mutually inspiring, diminishing much of the indescribable fear in their hearts.
Arrows whizzed through the air like a swarm of locusts, slicing through the clear skies towards the attacking Orc soldiers.
Catapults, Magic Crystal Cannons, all kinds of crossbow arrows, were flying in disarray.
