"What are we looking at?" Damra asked as he noticed Ludwig's finger was on a point of the map where a river run down from the mountain and to the outside of the ward perimeter.
Ludwig kept his fingertip pressed to the parchment, pinning the idea in place the way you pinned a knife through a problem so it couldn't wriggle away.
Around the war table, bodies leaned closer, ogres casting long shadows over inked lines, lizardmen blinking slowly in the heat, and a few goblins perched at the edge like they were afraid the map itself might bite.
"Breach point, pretty big one, also a good place for Lizardmen to go into for assistance. Lizardmen are stronger near bodies of water," he looked at Damra, "Not to mention, even the enemy needs to drink, do they not?"
He didn't say it like a clever plan. He said it like a physical fact, like gravity. The river was a mouth the mountain couldn't close, and mouths were where you put poison.
