Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24530992-20140913012628/@comment-4363162-20140913154747

Val took shot after shot at the horde. Mechanical. Calculated. Not missing a single step. It was like the gearings in a machine, reload, aim, fire, reload, aim, fire. The hiss of bolts and arrows streaking through the air, puncuated by the occasional belch and thud of a cannon shell, provided the backtrack to his thoughts. He didn't know how long he'd done it for, nor how many enemies he'd dropped. All he knew was that by sundown, the wave of bodies was rippling to a halt, most of its former members now lying burning or splattered against the terrain. Worms of smoke dotted the landscape. But the targets, the necromancers, were still alive. The raids would keep coming till something could be done about them. As the last of the corpses dropped to the ground, he jumped down from his post to report to Remus, and nearly fell flat on his face. The amount of time he'd spent not moving, shooting at the horde, had numbed his legs. He silently chatised himself for the mistake and made his way to the commander's post.