Five weeks went by, and the ninth month of the year had arrived. The Bloodstone Archers under Kaelor's command had been deployed to Ivory Hills after yet another brutal assault, one that claimed even more than the lives of sheep due to the insufficient number of guards posted there.
The bats that surged from the dark skies were relentless, overwhelming the defenders with sheer numbers.
But constant battle had a way of sharpening the soul.
The Bloodstone Archers had been tempered by the conflict, their bowmanship honed by necessity. With every confrontation, their accuracy improved, their reflexes sharpened, and their teamwork became instinctual. Each return to camp was a testimony to survival, most times, with bandaged wounds and bloodied garments, but also with unyielding resolve. The bats, once a terror, had become an outlet to quench their rising bloodlust.
