The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

The journey into the Lonely Hills was one of silence as everyone, crept deeper into the cliffs. The land around them turned harsh and jagged, the rocky slopes casting eerie shadows as dusk began to settle. Their path twisted through narrow passes and dense underbrush until, finally, they reached a cliff that overlooked a massive ravine.

Below, nestled in the shadows of the high cliffs, was a massive horde of monsters, creatures of all shapes and sizes, crammed together like a dark, festering mass. Trolls, ghouls, werewolves, dire wolves, and creatures they could barely recognize moved in restless, heaving waves, some snapping and snarling at one another, while others sat in watchful stillness, their eyes glinting in the fading light. It filled the ravine to the brim, spilling over the edges as they scrambled over one another, pushing and snapping at one another.

The kings and their forces watched silence until a ripple of agitation swept through the crowd below. Sniffing, followed by barks and growls started small, then quickly followed by another, then another, the sound growing as they started chatting to each other. The monsters stirred, twitching and shifting, heads turning upward, claws scraping against the stone.

Brandon barely had time to react before a low, guttural roar echoed from the depths of the ravine, a rallying cry that sent the creatures into a frenzy. A hive stirred to life, they erupted in noise, a cacophony of growls, snarls, shrieks, and roars that rolled up the cliffs and set the rocks vibrating. The beasts' eyes glowed like embers in the twilight, and then they surged. A wave of twisted, snapping limbs and gnashing teeth flooded out of the ravine, clambering over one another.

"Stand ready!" Brandon called, his voice barely cutting through the noise as his men scrambled into formation. Each King followed forming the men into the defensive wall.

The ground beneath their feet trembled as the creatures charged, a relentless mass that grew more frenzied with every step. Brandon watched as they poured from the ravine, moving like a swarm, chaotic yet terrifyingly unified.

The kings and their men formed a solid wall of shields at the base of the hill, shoulders pressed tightly together, shields raised, and spears bristling out. Behind them, on the hill, Brandon's slingers prepared their weapons, hands steady despite the chaos rumbling below, stones already slung and ready. Their gaze was fixed on the tide of monsters rushing forward.

The first wave of beasts, a twisted mixture of ghouls and dire wolves, crashed into the wall with bone-jarring force, their claws scraping over the shields and teeth snapping through any gaps their eyes beadily peering through. The slingers aimed, letting loose a torrent of stones that shot into the crowd. The beasts yelped and snarled, stumbling back as stones smashed into their heads and jaws, only to then be crushed under the wave of monsters surging forward.

Brandon's spear met a ghoul mid-leap, driving through its ribs with a sickening crunch. It clawed and twisted, snarling at him with teeth bared, but he forced it back with sheer strength, pulling his spear free and allowing another man to finish it off with a clean cut to the head. Frost, only a few feet away, was locked in his furious battle with a werewolf, his axe heaving in wide, arcs. He swung it into the beast's shoulder, nearly cleaving it in half, only to step back and slam his shield into a second one lunging forward.

To his right, Edwyn roared, rallying some of his mercenaries, his sword flashing in the dim light as he fought. His men backed him, pressing their shields forward to keep the monsters at bay, striking down any beast that moved past the wall. Harmond was locked in battle as well, hacking with twin axes at a pair of massive dire wolves that snapped and lunged at him, their red eyes wild with fury. He drove his axe into one's skull, using the momentum to swing around and slash at the second, his face a mask of concentration broken only by a goofy smile.

A group of Brandon's guards pressed their shields against a hulking troll that loomed over them, preparing to swing its club with crushing force. It went to break the defensive line, but the defences had been waiting for a troll, with such a bit target every sling put all their power into smashing rocks into its face. It took dozens of rocks and a few extra strikes before the troll bellowed in pain, stumbling back once it got hurt, a whimper leaving it.

The mercenaries were locked into the defensive line struggling against some ice spiders, others facing off with an isdråk that lashed its tail with deadly speed before it perfectly slithered back into the mass of monsters. One mercenary leaped aside just in time as the snake's tail slammed into the earth where he'd been standing, it again darted back into the mass of monster's bodies.

Brandon's slingers continued their barrage, the stones thundering down relentlessly, as they were surrounded by countless rocks. With the narrow pass of the raven and the high ground of the hill, the slingers felt safe and protected to rain down on the monsters.

In the fray, Brandon fought with fierce resolve, his broken spear left on the ground before he drew his sword as he hacked at any monster. He found himself beside Edric, who fought two dire wolves at once, his sword moving in swift arcs as he dodged snapping jaws and slashed through fur and muscle. Lyanna was a few paces away, deftly fending off a ghoul, her dagger flashing as she cut it down.

The tide was endless. For every beast struck down, two more appeared, pressing in on all sides. Brandon's arms burned, his breath heavy, but he fought on, rallying his men as he marched up and down the line. They held as the kings and their soldiers fighting side by side, a small force defying an unstoppable wave. The monster horde pushed against them with maddening force, their shields locked, a solid wall to break the tide.