The impact came like the collapse of a cliff.
The orcish host slammed into the Threian infantry line with a sound that drowned even the screams. Wood cracked. Iron rang. Flesh burst. Shields buckled inward as if struck by a tidal wave, the sheer mass of charging bodies forcing the front ranks backward step by step despite locked arms and braced legs.
Men were crushed before they ever struck a blow.
An infantryman in the center vanished beneath the press, his scream cut short as two orcs slammed into him from opposite sides. His shield snapped, ribs folded inward, and he was driven face first into the frozen ground where boots trampled him until there was nothing left to recognize as human.
Elsewhere the line bent hard.
