Seeing how things were going to turn out if he didn't take control of things, Lord Raegon frowned.
Turning to his commanders, he issued his next order.
"Send in the tankers!" he barked. "Have them form a defensive front. And advance at full speed! We close the distance now! Avenge our fallen brothers!"
A section of his army immediately moved forward—heavily armored warriors wielding massive shields, their bodies built to withstand punishment.
The archers of Westmont could no longer fire freely.
At least, that's what Raegon thought.
But then like nothing Raegon's army did mattered, the arrows doubled.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the impossible.
"Double the assault!" Lord Ellian's voice echoed through the battlefield and into Lord Raegon's ears.
Westmont's archers, rather than slowing their attacks, began firing two arrows at once—one in each hand, drawn back with perfect synchronization.
The sky darkened with their relentless assault.
