"Splitjaw!!!"
If there's one thing you learn as a kobold commander, it's that nothing ever holds as long as you want it to. That goes double for walls, triple for plans. I pressed my back to the east parapet, ducked a flying rock, and bellowed, "That's the last one of you that gets to throw things! I mean it!"
They never listen. Monsters boiled at the base of the wall—some climbing, some pounding, some just banging their heads like the sheer noise might crack stone. Everything smelled of moss and sweat and churned mud. Kobolds jabbed down with sharpened poles, boots slipping on mud. Stonealign's voice rose through the chaos—"Support to the joinery! If that brace slips, we all die here!"
