It was a wolf's howl. Unfortunately, it was daytime—and the time of day when the sun was at its most vicious. The Wolfman Light Infantry, sweltering under layers of fur and leather armor, had no intention of responding to their leader.
Eric wasn't surprised that the howl had failed to rouse them. He'd only done it on a whim; if it failed, it failed.
"Arrows! Quick! Shields!"
"Shields!"
When the werewolves were still five or six hundred meters from the enemy's Magic City Wall, the first volley of arrows rained down from the distance. Eric's initial estimate was that at least two or three hundred people had fired at once.
The enemy's aim was clever; they were arcing their shots primarily toward the most densely packed areas of werewolves.
Eric sneered. 'Good thing I came prepared.'
"Raise shields! Raise shields! Archers, counter-attack! Have the Wanderers counter-attack!" Eric commanded.
