Winter continued.
-"When General Lagune's forces assaulted the meager units under Mad Jack command, you have to remember they did it in the middle of the night.
Jack himself got Crocea Mors and charged, howling.
His naked followers committed to a last glorious charge against the attackers.
All howling, in a last-ditch act of defiance in the face of death.
When Lagune's ragged shooters, who were denied rest for days and had marched non-stop following their general's seething hated for Mad Jack, they couldn't aim with any accuracy whatsoever. Their rate of fire depended on deft hands to reload the clips. And the rifles they were using fouled up without proper care."
Even the youngest officers present were making faces. They knew, even if they hadn't lived it themselves yet, how much exhaustion can make you a dead man walking. Too tired to think, too tired to maintain your gear.
"Add that they were in the middle of the night, scared from some stray actual beowolves that were attracted by the howls.
It was a mess.
The agile light infantry that Mad Jack favoured, who unencumbered by any gear, reached their positions in record time and Crocea Mors found Lagune's heart."
Winter waited for some time, letting them digest the situation while she sipped some water.
-"From the survivor's point of view, he was a madman, an arc raving mad, charging naked into gunfire. Crocea Mors shining in the night amid a sea of howling beowolves."
Many a hardened warrior got goosebumps at that.
-"When the day came, Winchester and Goodwitch forces laid down their weapons."
Winter bit her lips and exhaled. She checked, double-checked even cross-referenced with the laureated Doctor Oobleck. Yet, this dead warrior still awed her. "Mad Jack Arc's report was terse: Lagune dead. Winchester & Goodwitch surrendered. Jack"
Ironwood looked amused.
-"I have known lesser commanders waxing poetic over buttering a toast. All while being incapable of finding their own sorry behinds in a dark room, even with written instructions and a torch."