“Get them back!” I yelled fruitlessly. The ogres grabbed the ballistae and pulled desperately, but there wasn’t enough time. The engines fired at once, and a line of motion appeared from the top of the ridge, to the valley floor. Our ballistae were blown into splinters, sending razor-sharp iron shrapnel shooting toward our lines. Ogre limbs were cut clean off, men were split in two, pieces of meat were shorn grotesquely away, the punctures so clean that the shape of the shrapnel could be seen in the wounds. Engines were folded in half by wrought-iron shafts, and an unfortunate few ogres were speared to the earth. Ropes were sent cascading over the top of the wall, and climbers repelled down them, and cut the ropes off the ballista spears.