Skeldergate Hill laid bare in squalor that cold morning - upturned earth, the stink of decaying man flesh, drying horseshit. The King of Sylfur's nostrils dilated as it overfilled with the all-too-familiar stench of a hard battle waged. He was resplendent in yellow-gold armour among the grey metal of his army. The King with gritted teeth surveyed the opposing forces ten thousand strong just
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