Lugh recognized that sound. It was a herald of destruction. The mechanical whine of the FSV 12 primary flamethrower had begun its relentless churn, its gears grinding with an almost ominous finality.
The ships cut through the river, their hulls slicing through the dark waters as they breached the northern defenses of Drakensmar.
The soldiers of Heieg scrambled into action, rushing to the riverbanks, but they were met with a hail of gunfire.
The Ophris ships unleashed torrents of machine-gun fire and small-caliber cannon shells, cutting down many before they could even reach cover.
The rest, forced into desperate defense, pressed themselves against whatever barricades they could find, returning fire in vain.
The city had been caught off guard. It was deep into the night, and the deafening roar of gunfire, the relentless clanking of machinery, and the panicked screams of civilians fused into a chaotic symphony of destruction.
