The earth trembled beneath the relentless march of the Greek army as they surged toward the walls of Lyrnessus. The sound of countless footsteps grew louder, shaking the very foundations of the city. Despite the defenses that lay before them—imposing walls, fortified gates, and the perfect vantage for archers—they pressed forward without hesitation. Faces twisted with madness, they rushed across the open field, a perfect target for the awaiting defenders. Yet, there was no fear, no hesitation. All that filled their hearts was a thirst for glory and the promise of rewards.
Mynes, standing tall atop the battlements, surveyed the scene with grim determination. His eyes moved over the approaching horde—faces twisted into smirks, wild eyes filled with the lust for battle. He raised his hand high, the signal that his archers had been waiting for.
"Archers!" he bellowed, his voice commanding and clear.
