Siege Juggernaut Set

Yeva,
We march on the castle at daylight, and may find battle there if they have the steel to give it.
The newer troops are anxious, but I have seen battle before.
Do not fear for me, I swear to return to you.
Yours,
Roger

Dear Yeva,
They have holed up in the castle and will not meet us in the field. The siege begins today.
A siege can be a nightmare ordeal, but it is meted out in tight rations and boredom instead of blood.
Though it will be many months (or even years!) before I see you again, I will think of you, and promise I will write you every day.
Yours always,
Roger

Dearest Yeva,
The general's tent is a buzz of activity, with messengers coming and going at all times. The enlisted men are idle, awaiting orders, telling stories of those left at home.
I speak of you to them, and of our son born so soon before I marched to war. I wonder how tall he might be when I see him again.
Yours always,
Roger

Dearest Yeva,
They have us felling trees, for siege towers I assume.
I imagine that I am out cutting wood to prepare for winter, to stack up 'round the back of the house.
Wood to keep our home warm and bright, and not for the business of war. Such thoughts pass the time.
Yours always,
Roger

Dearest Yeva,
We are put to the purpose of constructing siege towers and frameworks for the catapults. It is a process that will take many weeks of hard labor, but there is very little sense of urgency.
Little is being done to conceal our work from the enemy. I fear they will be able to forecast our future attack.
Yours always,
Roger

Dearest Yeva,
I have been moved to another project, hidden in the treeline. A single wooden tortoise is being built, large enough to bring a very few men to the castle wall protected from arrows and spells, but no larger.
This single tortoise will be complete months before the siege weapons.
What the general is planning I am not certain.
Yours always,
Roger

Yeva my love,
I have witnessed a great, monstrous suit of armor the like I have never seen, with an auger for an arm and clockwork parts at the joints. There was a gnomish woman I have not seen before tinkering at its workings.
I don't know who was wearing the armor, but it appears to give the wearer monsterous strength. I watched as it drove its fist through a boulder, shattering it to bits. Is this the purpose of our work? To bring this nightmare device to the wall?
Yours always,
Roger

Yeva my dear heart,
The tortoise will be wheeled to the wall tonight, as the archers and mages make a spectacle of flinging projectiles against the defenses from a great distance. It will accomplish little, but should hold the enemy's attention as the tortoise creeps through the dark.
What they expect one soldier in an armored suit to accomplish (no matter how terrifying), I don't know. If this is our best effort, I wonder if I will ever return home again. At least we will have the catapults for the next attempt.
Yours always,
Roger

Yeva,
Well apparently the blighter in the iron suit drilled through the wall, into the keep, into the commander's quarters, bashed him in the head and now it's all over.
Bit of a march coming up but I guess I'll be home next week, save a bowl of stew for me.
Cheers,
Roger