The knights on the walls were clearly no lambs awaiting slaughter. They were no pushovers, and they would not be foolish enough to offer no resistance.
Instead, they unleashed their fiercest attacks, raining stones and swords down from above. The dark barrage overwhelmed the fine snowfall, striking the ropes without pause. One Viking Warrior after another was wounded by arrows, and as their muscles lost their strength, they soon slipped from the ropes and fell six meters into the Moat below. After a splash, nothing followed. They could not even surface to struggle or slap at the water.
The Moat contained a deadly poison, more potent than the venom of the Yellow Sand Diamondback Snake. It could instantly numb a person's mind through their blood, robbing their whole body of strength and sending them sinking to the bottom.
Arrows and stones continued to fly. Hurled by knights whose arms possessed tremendous strength, swords and rocks sailed past the ropes and landed on the opposite bank. Apparently, they intended to wound the horses and force the chariots back.
But they had still underestimated the sturdiness of the Viking War Chariots. The horses, clad in flexible scale armor, ignored the dense rain of arrows from above. The stones that reached them had lost much of their force over the distance and could not hurt them at all. Instead, this threatening barrage stirred their ferocity, priming them for the next move.
In less than five minutes, the foremost surviving Viking Warrior on the ropes reached the Grappling Claw. He swiftly drew the short blade at his waist and began cutting through the drawbridge ropes with all his strength.
The drawbridge ropes were exceptionally thick, almost thicker than an arm, and there were more than a dozen of them. An ordinary person probably could