Launcher

Behind the ragged front lines, the Launcher waits, hefting crude catapults backed by the growls of goblin beasts. They load a groaning basket of fire-pots and stones—some jagged, some wrapped in flammable rags—and let them fly. The launcher's shot arcs over shrubs and huts, crashing into enemy squares with chains and fire. Their hands are blackened with powder; their laugh echoes with each explosion. Not the bravest, maybe, but among the most useful when walls must crumble and ranks be broken from a distance the scouts cannot reach.