A thunderous chorus of guttural howls reverberated through the dusk as the first wave of abyssal hounds struck the outer palisade.
Hajin stood fifty yards back along the central thoroughfare, his arms crossed deliberately over his chest as he observed the defensive line.
"Hold your rings, Lord Hajin!" Hans called out from the raised walkway, his hand raised toward the volunteer spearmen.
"If our militia cannot hold this ditch with wood and steel, your divine summons will spend the entire winter babysitting frightened sheep!"
"The line belongs to you, Commander," he shouted back through the din of rattling armor and snarling beasts.
"I will not summon a single chain link unless the palisade collapses into the dirt!"
"Listen to the lord, men!" Hans bellowed, turning toward the sixty volunteers crouched behind the timber parapet.
"This is our home, our ditch, and our wall... no foreign summons are fighting this battle for us!"
