Queen Beatrice looked down and watched as her soldiers awaited the orders from her General to ambush the rogue soldiers on the other side of the castle's outer wall. A long row of catapults was placed in front of a row of soldiers, that was a mile long. Behind them was another line of soldiers positioned with bows and arrows at the ready. Beatrice didn't know what to expect. She heard the Heralder blow the war trumpet.
With one swift swing of a blade the ropes to the catapults were cut loose, and that momentum allowed the black viscous material to fly. Beatrice saw the Black, unfamiliar, substance shoot over the wall, landing, hitting its mark. The wind carried the men's screams of agony up to her as the boiling hot tar melted their tender exposed flesh from their bones. It was a ghastly sight to hear and see. Beatrice was happy she couldn't see it up close.