The lost and the damned stagger, their rusted armor punctured by pilum, some of them taken through the chest or neck and slain outright, where they are trampled beneath their mad kin. Behind the line of the fodder, the black-armored warriors advance, smashing into their mad companions if they move so slowly, killing about half as many as the intial volley of the centurions. The charge continues, leaking fetid blood, stinking ichor, and the ragged, arhytmic chanting of many ragged throats can be heard.