The army of the Abyss is upon us and it cannot be stopped. The Wall has fallen and we are retreating to the sea. The Order has been dealt a fearsome blow. The fiends of the Abyss shatter stone and break iron with horrifying ease, and rend flesh from bone with an avarice that is terrifying to behold. We attempted to funnel the enemy toward the old Tower of the Watch, and thereby split their forces in two; instead we were outflanked by winged horrors whose aberrant forms I still try to forget. Whole formations of our knights were burned alive in seconds as hellfire erupted from the ground itself, summoned by floating abominations that have no right to exist. We were utterly unprepared for the savagery of the Abyss.
We are too exhausted to continue running. In a few moments, we will make a stand at another watchtower, the old Tower of the Avenger. It is fitting that under its shadow we will stand and die in memory of the brothers whose corpses we have left behind upon the field.
The Order moves to defend the ancient ruin of the Tower of the Avenger, while Abyssal forces emerge from the north.
Howling abominations and aberrant horrors that defy reality sow the beginnings of terror in the Brotherhood ranks.
The infantry move into the ruin of the Tower, terror starting to take hold of even the bravest among them; loping beasts and screeching Abyss-spawned predators emerge from the mists to outflank the Brotherhood.
The Brotherhood is routed. Winged terrors and fiends from the Abyss fall upon the Order's knights and throw the mortal army into disarray. Under cover of the archers and artillery, the Brotherhood cedes the field, paying a bitter price in blood for its failure.