On the mortar-bound ramparts of the mountain fortress, the localized militia and the terrified peasantry collapsed into a state of absolute hysteria.
For generations, the inhabitants of Ulster had endured the cyclical brutality of the Dark Ages... famine, plague, and the bloody, relentless skirmishes of rival chieftains.
Yet, this apocalypse bearing down upon their shores was a terror completely outside the bounds of their archaic comprehension.
As the colossal leviathans cut effortlessly through the grey waters of the Atlantic, rotating their heavily armored broadsides toward the coastal redoubt, a profound and desperate crisis erupted among the huddled masses.
The elderly priest, whose frail hands shook uncontrollably as he clutched his wooden crucifix, stared in horror at the rifled steel cannons protruding from the warships.
The terrified wails of the women and children filled the biting autumn wind...
