Blaylscith scattered in all directions through puddles of murky, gray water as a battalion of mud-spattered Legionnaires tramped into the bustling encampment. Straggling behind the main group and panting with over-exertion, a second unit followed closely, but unlike the former, who marched in unison and carried their weapons with strength and purpose; those who followed were ragged and in visible disarray. Many of these bore scars that stood out in vivid contrast against their pallid complexions and others nursed fresh wounds; a testament to their harrowing existence, which was exemplified when the unit came to a halt and many stragglers stumbled or nearly collapsed out of fatigue.
When the battalion of Demonfey ahead of them stopped, they stamped the ends of their spears into the ground or clapped their swords against shields as they voiced a growling, unified exclamation that echoed along the bleak way and sent shivers of…
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