Great gouts of acidic bile fly from the mouths of the Mandragors, melting armor and flesh, the tight conditions working to their advantage. The creatures barrel into your line, but your men are ready. The Mandragors pierce themselves on the waiting spears. In close quarters, the fighting is bloody, but your coordination wins out. Finding the witches safe and the wagons unharmed, you return to the head of the column and move out.

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