rolled 1, 5, 6 = 12
Erivrus and the three swordsmen join you on the battlements. The soldiers, soaked and shaken, begin to climb as well, taking up their previous positions. A tiny sliver of sunlight makes it through the clouds above, passing over your head before disappearing. You ready your crossbow, setting it in the notch on your new shield. You feel tired, but you push your fatigue aside. No time for that now.
The cloud sweeps upward, curving about itself and disappearing, revealing the full extent of the enemy force. Thousands upon thousands, stretching back in two vast columns, interspersed with siege engines of various kinds.
But the center holds your eye. The center, just in front of the felled and bleeding beast, where a tiny light glows between the two steadfast columns. It expands, brightening, and then bursts, unveiling three beings.
To either side, golems, hunched and breathing heavily, their flesh crudely connected to limbs of living rock, skin blackened and burned. Between them, a giant, cloaked and hooded, about your size, with thin wisps of smoke trailing from the places where his eyes should be.
“Greetings,” he says, his voice like mountains grinding against each other. “I will ease your passing into hell. Do not resist.”
You have initiative.