[X] Pull your handgunners off the barricade at the last moment, allowing them to avoid close combat, but forfeiting a third volley
Perhaps a third volley would break the enemy, perhaps it wouldn't, either way, there'd still be hundreds more men behind, pushing still onto the barricade. With that in mind you:
[ ] Stay high in the damaged building, offering your direction to the handgunners as they filter in and lay down fire
[ ] Join your Greatswords and lend your blade to the defense
[ ] Trust your men and try to link back up with the Emira
[ ] Join the Knight-Captain in protecting your flanks
[ ] Write-in
Whatever you choose, the first pattering of enemy bowshot starts to fall among your men. Blessedly, the thick rugs stretched out along the barricade perform to task and prevent the foe from firing directly at your men. As such, only a few men fall along the makeshift wall felt the bite of the falling shafts and had to be pulled off the line.
The rest, now more confident of the range, do their best to maintain footing on the unstable barrier while levelling their guns.
A breath, one you'd been unaware of holding, is punched out of your chest as the first volley fires.
In spite of its massive noise, you only see a few of the first enemy unit- the foeman's personal guards, you thought- fall, chunks blasted out of their backs by deceptively small holes in their front.
A few of your gunners, their footing still unsure, either stumble as they fire or are taken by the next pattering of enemy arrows, no more effective than the prior volley.
Those gunners of the barricade, exhibiting a slight nervousness as the enemy presses on, exchange their guns to the men behind them- a risky tactic, considering the fickle nature of such arms- and set to fire once more.
Again, your ears are set ringing as the loudest noise in your life rocks your body.
The enemy's pattering of reply arrows barely fazes your men, maybe dropping one unlucky man whom no one truly liked anyway.
Beyond the smoke loosed by the pair of volleys, naught much is visible, hovering at eye-level as it is wont to do.
Still, your gunners start to fall back from the barricade in good order, the greatswords stepping up to take their place after them.
Then, some short distance from your flank, your men see it.
A twin-tailed comet, small but full of righteous fury, pierces the heavens, and slams down a few streets away, accompanied by a small ripple of gunshot.
Glancing back at the smoke, you see your men working in a passionate fury. To prepare to receive the enemy.
As the smoke begins to clear, you see the enemy- a few, though far surpassing your losses, decorate the ground with their corpses, but the enemy's elite guard, who'd taken the brunt of the losses, have dispersed, broken and then shattered- and stifle a sharp grin.
Their advance is stilted and afraid, clearly unsure as to the meaning of the miracle the whole of you and they witnessed.
(Modifier: +5 to rolls by Imperial units for this turn. Enemy loses advantage on morale rolls from being under their king.)
Still, battle is to be shortly joined. Your greatswords have generally opted to half-sword, your handgunners are taking up positions in the remaining buildings, and- judging by the sounds of battle filtering through from your left- the Witch-Hunter has laid into her enemies.
You suppose a bit of theatrics would not be out of place.
Thusly, you shout.
What?
[ ] Write-in.
