Six dozen rise all around you. Groups of rangers seemingly materialize all across the ridge and from inside the forest.
And then the crossbows sing.
A volley of two hundred bolts fly.
The screaming begins.
Two hundred bolts strike their targets. Knights and horsemen fall from their mounts. Dozens of infantrymen collapse, dead or dying. Those manning the siege artillery collapse over their weapons, blood staining the steel tubes.
At first, there is only confusion. The rebels are simply not sure what, if anything, is happening. Those in the rear panic, witnessing the death of their comrades. But those in the center simply do not realize what's happening.
Twenty seconds later, the second volley flies. Another twenty seconds pass. Then another.
And another.
Panic ripples through their lines. Cavalrymen begin to disperse, some rushing for the cover of the forests, not realizing that your rangers are shooting from inside its cover. Panicked, riderless horses slam into their own line.
Hundreds of bodies lie lifeless on the ground.
But now they know where you are. Scattered groups form and begin to charge. Commanders begin to turn the back line around to face the incoming volleys.
Now the real fight may begin.
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