The gloomy sky felt like a heavy leaden slab, weighing down on the fortress's canopy.
The tents shook under the assault of the rain, droplets pelting the tent tops like sharp arrows, pitter-patter.
Outside the camp, the ground, once churned into dust by hooves and footsteps, had turned to mud. The soldiers were trapped inside their tents, their high spirits somewhat dampened by the wet and oppressive weather.
Occasionally, the whinnies of warhorses echoed from the stables, sounding particularly lonely amidst the downpour's clamor.
The knights engaged in little conversation, only sighs and curses at the terrible weather. The battle had come to an abrupt halt in the continuous rain, as if time itself had frozen in the storm, yet it offered the warriors a chance to catch their breath.
