“Hold the line!” roared Gladius, General of the Fifth Legion of the Great Empire. “You are men of the Empire and you will not falter in your duty!” There was a satisfying clash of metal on metal as his staunchly disciplined and well-drilled soldiers locked shields. Professional, grim-faced and determined warriors all, his legion had been sent forth to the desert to claim ancient treasures and powerful artefacts that would bring great power to whomever wielded them. Protected from all sides and from above, the soldiers had formed the legendary testudo formation; an impenetrable walking fortress.

In the distance, Gladius could see a regiment of Undead chariots forming up ahead, a cloud of dust kicking-up on the horizon revealing their position to him. The Undead warriors were unyielding and incredibly aggressive, giving Gladius’ soldiers no respite. Like a swarm of wasps protecting their nest from an intruder, the Undead were incredibly hostile, yet exhibited clear and controlled tactics, persecuting their orders with discipline. But there was something else; something human in their actions. Hatred.

“Draw swords! Prepare to receive charge!” Gladius’ command was swiftly met with the sound of rasping steel as one hundred razor-sharp blades were drawn from their scabbards and held in combat positions. Resolute and steadfast, Gladius knew his soldiers would obey his orders, standing to receive the Skeleton Warrior’s charge. But he also knew the impact of their chariots would take a horrendous toll on his unit. If they could hold out long enough and rob the war machines of their impetus, his legion could then grind them into dust with a hefty counter attack.

The chariots began their charge.

“Hold the line!” repeated Gladius. “You will hold the line!”

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