"What did you say? The second and third defensive lines have been set ablaze? What set them on fire? Was it some large-scale war spell summoned by the vampire psychics?"
In Plagueblight Town, the Flesh-Ripper spellcaster had gone to bed early because of his age. When his panicked apprentice shook him awake, he received a bolt from the blue: the Transians had launched a completely unexpected attack on his defenses tonight, without the slightest warning.
And it was a devastating attack.
The panic plastered across his apprentice's ugly face made it clear that tonight's battle was no small skirmish.
Still, Flesh-Ripper couldn't understand how the Transians had suddenly gained this kind of destructive power on the battlefield. Before, they'd only managed to chew through his outer guard posts by sending their infantry in wave after wave of suicidal charges.
"They used strange weapons!"
The gnoll spellcaster who had come to deliver the news described it in his jumbled speech:
"Those vampires strapped bombs capable of causing massive fires to their bodies. They made full use of their ability to fly, taking off from the trench line outside the swamp and crossing our outer defenses.
"Nearly every guard post along their route was bombed and set ablaze.
"It all happened too fast. Our death witches and knights didn't have time to react.
"And the weapons they used weren't psychic items. The defensive spells we placed at the guard posts were almost useless against them. Those damned flames didn't go out quickly after they ignited.
"They clung to our skeletons and zombies and kept burning until they were charred and no longer fit to fight.
"They also had a nasty kind of 'blooming round.' It didn't cause a fiery explosion, but it was like setting off fireworks. Anything caught in the area