LCC Loreos local challenge 9 part 2
With all supplies brought into the fort, and the wagons disassembled, Aldwir instructed the cavalry to scout in search of the bandits, hopefully to thin their ranks before they returned.
They filled the gap in the corner of the walls with the empty barrels and chests of the enemy, and stacked their fresh supplies as battlements.
Of ten riders, a lone man, horseless and bleeding, returned. His last words stilled the camp into a silent anxiousness. "They are coming."
With blood on their weapons, and alcohol on their breath, the bandits crashed upon the walls like a rising tide. Slowly they worked their way over the stacked chests and into the compound. Good men fell and bad men came through the ranks.
"Retreat to the tower!" Aldwir screamed as they kept coming on.
Clad in odds and ends, rusted and bloodied, the bandits clove through the inexperienced men of Loreos. Their fine armor and weapons melting away at the enemies resolve.
The desperate cries of those cut down were but a din compared to the sounds of clashing steel echoing within the wooden palisade. When it seemed there might be hope in their last bastion, a hidden door opened from behind and the enemy now surrounded them.
They fought on for what seemed like hours. Each kill brought them closer to victory, each death defeat. With only three of them left, they slew the last enemy.
Surveying the carnage around them, they began to feel their wounds. They wanted to scream and shout at the horror of what they'd done, they wanted to scream and cheer at their victory, but mostly, they wanted to lay and rest a while. The dead do not bury themselves.