The Veilleux Company marches through scorched farmland. The sky is bruised with storm clouds and rising ash. Troy: “Stay sharp. The enemy wants this road.” Eric scans the horizon, eyes glowing faintly red. Druna cracks her knuckles. Old Ben mutters something about “kids and their optimism.” A massive shape collapses onto the road ahead — a Minotaur warrior, armor shattered, breathing ragged. Brawll: “Don’t… attack… I’m not with them…” Troy kneels beside him. Troy: “Who did this?” Brawll: “My people… conscripted. Forced to fight for the enemy. I refused. They beat me… left me for dead.” Annie rushes forward, hands glowing. Annie: “Hold still — you’re safe now.” Light spreads across Brawll’s wounds. His breathing steadies. His strength returns. He rises — towering, powerful, unbroken. Eric reaches into a bag of holding and pulls out a massive battle axe — black steel, red runes, humming with restrained power. Then he produces a silver amulet etched with healing sigils. Eric: “No need to thank me. I need you able to kill as many as possible.” Brawll grips the axe — destiny in his hands. Brawll: “I will free my people or DIE!!” The Company reaches the outer wall — and the battlefield erupts. A sea of orcs, hobgoblins, and iron‑masked brutes crashes against the defenders like a living avalanche. Troy’s shield line buckles. Troy: “Hold! HOLD!” Eric vanishes into shadow, reappearing behind a hobgoblin captain. Druna cleaves through a knot of orcs. Old Ben plants his shield and refuses to move. But the enemy keeps coming — more and more, an endless tide. Conan‑style barbarian rhythm] A massive horn blast shakes the battlefield. Through the smoke… through the fire… through the ruin… Brawll emerges. His runed axe glows red. His amulet pulses with healing light. His hooves strike the earth like war‑drums. The music hits a DIO‑style power chord — bright, heroic, unstoppable. Brawll: “I WILL FREE MY PEOPLE OR DIE!!!” The battlefield trembles. He charges like a living battering ram — not gory, not graphic — but overwhelming, mythic, unstoppable. He slams into the front ranks of the orc horde, scattering them like leaves in a storm. His axe carves wide arcs of force, knocking back entire clusters of enemies. Hobgoblins try to surround him — he spins, horns lowered, sending them flying. The demon inside Eric stirs. “Such fury… such strength… let me out…” Eric clenches his jaw. Eric: “Not now.” But his eyes burn brighter — Brawll’s rage is feeding something inside him. Troy leaps into the fray beside Brawll. They collide with the enemy like twin storms — Troy’s disciplined precision and Brawll’s raw, barbarian power forming a perfect, deadly rhythm. Back‑to‑back, they turn the tide. Troy: “Push forward! With Brawll!” [voice: male, roaring] Brawll: “For my people!” Troy drives forward with shield and sword, knocking aside orcs with disciplined strikes. Eric darts between enemies, daggers flashing with shadow‑magic. Druna fights like a storm, blade sweeping in brutal arcs. Old Ben anchors the right flank, blocking blows and barking orders. Sir TJ calls holy fire down his blade, illuminating the breach. Brawll stands at the center, a titan among mortals, every swing clearing space for the others. The enemy numbers are overwhelming — but the Veilleux Company fights as one. Brawll slams his hoof into the ground, raises his axe high, and roars: “FOR MY PEOPLE!!!” The Company answers with a unified shout — a wall of sound, courage, and defiance. The enemy falters. The breach holds.
