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In the east, Huffud's minotaurs and bound demons make a wonderful defense, the wave of giant, hulking porcelain brutes slams into the lines of the minotaurs, the great clubs and cleavers of the beasts slam into the smooth white muscles and claws of the beasts, both the smooth stone and the wood and metal breaking and bending, getting razor sharp claws slicing into their flesh and teeth biting into it. Yet the clash is decided when the demons, their limbs unbound at the cost of some of their handlers lives, are herded forwards into the tide, sweeping it away like a horde of rabid dogs, their chaos infused limbs meeting their equal.
To the west, two hordes try attacking the war mammoth clad in dwarven plate with the greatest of them bearing the great she-cow monster on its back, like a horse might bear a rider. Yet, on their climb up the slope, the same slope where Krantagarh almost met his end years ago, they meet their end, the tusks, connected by enchanted chains, break limbs, warriors shoot arrows, throw stones, javelins, axes, logs, then eventually themselves, at the mobs attacking them. By the end of the brief, decidedly one sided, yet horrifically vicious fight, the attacking horde is shattered.
