November 20th.
Overcast.
Mournful cold winds howled as they blew through.
They yellowed the grass and trees and chilled the wilderness.
The heavily armored soldiers marched in formation into the city gates.
The mo dao made of fine gold, nearly indestructible.
The poorly equipped orc soldiers had nothing that could stop these deadly blades.
Blades met the mo dao and broke, staves met it and snapped.
Even the most formidable flesh body couldn't withstand a two-step sword thrust.
Ordinary orc soldiers fell with a single cut.
Elite orc soldiers couldn't withstand two rounds.
As for the leading advanced orc, it was shot into a porcupine early on with crossbow arrows poisoned with toxin.
The strength of the heavy armored soldiers grew ever stronger with the blood they shed.
Each merciless hack was as crisp as autumn winds sweeping fallen leaves.
Orc soldiers fell one after another, their cries of pain growing fainter.
