It was a massacre. There was no other word for it.
What had once been a defensive line was now a charnel house, blood slick on the stones, screams torn from lungs already drowning in panic.
Attacked from the flanks, caught from behind, and now pressured relentlessly from the ladders, the defenders were undone in minutes. Not broken by sheer numbers, but overwhelmed with the suddenness of events.
Everywhere, the black-and-white-clad legionnaires advanced forward with savage momentum, their blades rising and falling like hammers at a forge, methodical and brutal.
There was no pause, no reprieve.
Every step forward was bought in blood , not theirs obviously, but that of men who had once believed they had the higher ground only to realise they were worms all along.
