Ironcoil Bulwark

The flood hits like a falling mountain.

Jicarilla's conjured torrent slams into the Dragonsguard's line with enough force to drown cities. Supply carts tumble, ashinach scatter, and many ronach are washed away.

The ironcoil bulwarks don't move.

Three naga in overlapping formation, tails coiled so tight the scales creak. Sshrava leans into the current. Water crashes over her armored bulk and splits around her like river current around stone. To her left, Kysseth takes a boulder to the chest. His plate armor dents and his ribs crack. He grunts, shifts his weight forward, and jams his halberd into the earth to anchor him. To their right, Vorthaal's tail winds through the formation, massive coils bracing both warriors. The three naga become one immovable wall.

Then the flood breaks. The water recedes across muddy earth, Jicarilla's conjuration spent.

Sshrava surveys the carnage. Supply crates shattered, bodies floating in the shallows. Good ashinach drowned. Her jaw clenches. Vorthaal cracks his neck. Kysseth yanks his halberd from the earth and spits blood.

The ironcoil bulwarks held the line. Now they'll take it back.

Dragonlord Mancer barks the order and Sshrava roars. She uncoils and surges forward, massive body churning through the mud. Vorthaal follows with his war cry joining hers. Kysseth charges despite his cracked ribs, halberd leveled. Three naga bearing down on Jicarilla's forces like an avalanche of scales and steel. Kaori Matsune and her surviving ashinach follow in their wake as arrows from Joraki Venshiro and the other dragudo arc overhead and descend into the enemy's ranks.

The ironcoil bulwarks were the anvil. Now they'll be the hammer.