Edge of the Abyss

Before dawn this morning, the cavalry of our force under my command engaged the dwarven host that, only days ago, annihilated the vanguard of the Order under Knight-Captain Tarragon. It is now some hours after dusk, and our infantry roam the field, ensuring the enemy wounded are put to rest and recovering what we may of the battle-gear of those who went before us. For a few hours, at least, the field - and the Wall - is ours.

We came upon the Abyssal host as it was enacting a spectacle of the most gruesome savagery upon the field of our fallen brothers. Many of our brothers' bodies will never be recovered, for the cannibalistic foe's depravity truly knows no bounds. Many of my knights wished to engage the foe immediately, but instead, according to the plan constructed yesterday with my second-in-command, Gaheris, the best archers of our yeomanry were brought up in loose order and placed upon a hill on our left flank with a commanding view of the field. A storm of arrows and ballista quarrels reaped many of the foemen where they stood, and with the foe in disarray, our cavalry then fell upon the Abyssals and exacted a bloody toll.

For now, the southern hamlets are safe. The dwarven host was killed where it stood and the brothers we lost have been avenged. Yet it is clear that this was not intended to be a true invading force, but the vanguard of a much greater army; our forward scouts have already indicated that the blackened standards of a vast force of the enemy is already within a day's march of the Wall. With our immediate objective secured, now we must wait for the rest of the Order to arrive, and prepare to give battle in earnest against a truly implacable foe.