Story in progress. This is the most updated form.
The white walls of the Bishop’s citadel trembled at the approach of a giant. Wrapped in skins and heavy with mail, the hosts of the Bishop’s garrison waited in loose ranks outside the shut city gates. The northern wind stung their war-painted faces. Not a word was breathed among the idle soldiers. The weight of dread had crushed their will to speak. Every eye stared over the flat wasteland before them, to where it terminated at a sheer, black wall of rock, which quaked under the blows of the coming giant.
The ash which coated the thirsty ground swam under the feet of the soldiers with each devastating blow. The wall would soon break, and release the hordes of ferocious Blacklanders.