You saw the rider going off; he became smaller and smaller as he began to close in on the village. Soon enough, he disappeared behind the buildings within the boundaries of said village. In the meantime, the archers began to march to their designated position.
The early autumn winds began winding down, allowing the summer to, once more, make the tension feel palpable. Half an hour passed before the negotiator came back out again.
Underneath your helm and coif, you could feel the sweat slowly trickle down as the minutes passed. The man came back to you; quiet disappointment was upon his face.
<span class="mu-i"> ''Your opposite number has declared that, though he finds your magnanimity admirable, he shall not accept. He has declared that, to redeem himself in the eyes of both his uncle and the lord Phoenix, master of the universe. He shall pay for his failures and cowardice with his own life if need be, but he shan't be made to undergo the final humiliation of being taken prisoner by the infidel.'' </span> Tension thus gave way to sombre silence, a pity, but his willingness to atone makes it a less bitter thing.
<span class="mu-i"> ''That is… disappointing, to say the least. But very well, we shall let the ultimatum expire, let us hope that they will change their minds.'' </span> You told him and the other men surrounding you.
Time came to a crawl; silence truly began to settle across the land; even the birds stopped singing. You could hear your heartbeat every so now and then; it sounded like the banging of the drum. You remained stiff upon your horse as the minutes crawled by at a turtle's pace.
As the sun reached the agreed position, the silence was broken. Across the lines, officers began to bark for the archers to prepare to give volley fire. The next sound was the cocking of the bows and crossbows, then the sky above the village darkened.
Great bundles of arrows were sent flying into the village, descending upon it like a murder of crows. Here and there you could hear the screams of men and horses alike as the archers let loose another barrage. But then, after the third volley, when the bowmen were reloading, you could hear them coming out again.
These men were driven on by lashes of their masters, it would seem. Like they were a completely different calibre than before. Was it desperation, or perhaps hope, that edged them on? It would matter not; here they would die.
<span class="mu-s"> Roll a 1d100 (DC 40) to see if your cavalry can keep them inside the village. </span>
