You panic and back away from the advancing Dukesmen, your shield failing as your concentration wavers.

Words of Power call up a fireball and you hurl it at the enemy, only to see some of the 75th burn as well. Meanwhile, men holding the line suddenly find themselves without your cover and fall to Dukesmen sword and spell.

The smell of blood and burnt flesh assaults you, and you can’t think of a single Word of Power to help. Dimly you hear Major Callis sound for reinforcements, but you know they aren’t going to get there in time.

A spear flies from the battle and strikes you in the chest. Pain blossoms and you fall to your knees, any magic you might have had draining away with your blood dripping on the cobbles. The edges of your vision darken and you slump over. You can’t breathe. The sounds of fighting and dying fade and the last thing you see is Dukesman blue running through the East Gate.

The End

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