March
The human knights marched in unison, their polished armor reflecting the dim light of the setting sun.
Their boots pounded the dirt road in rhythmic unison, CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of any who might dare to oppose them.
The air was thick with tension, and the distant cries of crows circling above only heightened the ominous atmosphere.
At the forefront of the column, mounted on a massive, scaled magical lizard that hissed and snapped at anything too close, was the infamous Gerhardt, the old mage.
His mage's uniform, adorned with golden threads and arcane runes, shimmered faintly with magical energy.
His face, lined with age but alight with fervor, scanned the horizon with a gaze that promised no mercy.
Suddenly, Gerhardt's booming voice erupted across the battlefield, a sound so powerful it seemed to rattle the very trees nearby.