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At the porticullis comes a great hammering, that makes your seated heart knock upon your ribs.
You hear a strange braying, as if of beasts, but it is lost in the clang of the spiked gate against iron and nails.
Your speech roused the bewildered Halberdiers - they rise in a great clamour, swelling towards the breach, to hold back the fevered shapes of death before them.
You see one man-at-arms cry
-Judge us not by our number, but the number of dead we leave behind us!
And he raises his sword and charges.
Even Sir Pellory attends the fray, from the safety of the rear.
You glance upon this sight, as you wonder if you have sent them all to their deaths.
