Support our fluff! Now is the time for the Big Push.
Posted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 12:50 am
GW seems to be reading our written Battlereports as Underway already mentioned. Get in tons of battlereports in the next few days or support the ones already there by replying (in a sensible manner) to them so they so how much support we have for each other and take our reports seriously.
I submitted one here as mentioned in another post.
http://stormofchaos.ca.games-workshop.c ... ID=3355042
Lord Kroak bit it big time because of the lovely ring of hotek.
Remember support our fluff!
Here it is for those foolish defenders of middenhiem.
Furion could feel the cool sensation of the life serum washing over his body, he hadn't breathed yet, it awaited his will. For a time he had wandered in places unknown to men and elves, inhabited by screaming hordes and denizens of wretched souls until he had found the one he wanted and grasped it's streaking body with conjured talons.
Shrieking the soul withered in his grasp, its eyes dull and fading from a millennia of continuity.
"S'Tarak." Furion whispered. "It is I. Furion."
The soul's eyes started to draw consciousness from the vacuum. Soon Furion was staring into the burning eyes of one of his daughters. Even after so many years, he remembered her hatred as clearly as he saw it now, and yet in that once powerful mind existed a cunning intellect. A deadly intellect.
"It is you. At last my waiting is over, seeing you here before allows me a thin happiness, a brief victory over my eternal wasting." S'Tarak hissed, her wisp taking a vaguely elvish form.
"Tell me of Lord Kroak." Furion demanded.
"Tell me first how you died?" She demanded. Furion could see the greed in her eyes.
"Lord Kroak first."
"Why do you ask?" Her eyes probed and then a thin smile as the realization occurred.
"He's your doom!" She shrieked, her gleeful lips curled into a horrible grin of sharp teeth.
"No." Furion replied. "He's yours."
"You cannot do that. It is unwritten!" She squealed as Furion unleashed the bound spell, and from within the ring about his cruel fingers, a clawed fist grasped the withering form of S'Tarak drawing her soul back into its onyx pearl. Furion clutched the ring tightly and spoke the word.
He burst forth from the blue waters of the life medium, his body older, yet his mind older still. The cavern was silent, dead of all but his rapid breathing and the drip of the media falling from his hairless arms.
Cautiously he removed himself from the casing and looked about the room. Silently he waited for several hours, but heard nothing, and so drew himself from the waters. About him, a repetitive row of casings, a few glowing with a cold blue light as it nourished identical bodies. Many, however, were empty. He would have to act quickly, the one he seeked moved with purpose through the world, it's only mandate the contemplation of magic beyond even Furion’s power. He could feel S'Tarak straining within the bounds of the Ring of Hotek, her soul desperately seeking a return to the void. He drew black robes about his naked body and felt the power seeping into his mind.
Hocath knew he would come at the worst time. It had been many years since she had slept and during those last few months she had reaped the reward of her intricate plan, and had gathered it hungrily into her great maw. She could feel it now, twisting and rattling inside her, as her gullet thrashed the malleable and somewhat foreign prize. A king's ransom in gold, spent with blood and offering no purchase now as it was doomed to lie endlessly in her hold.
Her great wings folded as she landed beside the familiar cave and wrenched apart a giant bolder with one clawed fist. Snakelike and tubular, she squeezed her sinewy bulk between the crack of the rocks and twisting, drew the boulder back in front of the hole.
"Hocath."
She writhed, and drew a rapid breath, filling her nostrils with a familiar scent she mixed the air with the noxious chemicals inside her.
"Hocath." Said the voice again, sternly. "I have come for the repayment."
"Whumph." She sighed, a cloud of black froth from her lips. "So tired." She whined. "So tired."
"Do not take me for a fool, Hocath. I have come for repayment. You must pay."
"Come out of the dimness, so I can look upon you, Furion." She croaked, resigned. "I will fulfill the payment."
Dread Lord Grias Thornblood, Knight of Hag Graef, Lord of the Southern Reaches and Commander of Such Armies glared at the carnage about him with a cool and deadly eye. Strewn amongst the dying colours of those lizards that walked like men were dark shadows, the bodies of dead Druchii still clutching their now useless weapons. For a brief moment it reminded him of a time long centuries past when he and his sister would dive for the black pearls that lay amidst the colourful outgrowth of coral in a land long since forgotten. Even for Lord Thornblood, an elf who had known only millennia of slaughter, this war had dragged on long enough. Khaine and slaughter be damned. His elves had fought well, their cold one carriages were brim full of treasure and magic, relics of countless Lizard shrines. It was time for home, to return to the cool clutches of Naggaroth, the long spires of the Homeland, the piercing dark trees and forests, and the mountains that promised a cool breath and a calm evening to ponder a more promising war. A war with purpose, rather than this unending, crawling jungle of filth and sticky things that stank more alive than when dead. It was time to crush the Pretender King, to destroy the Infidels once more, for there was no doubt that while his legions clawed their way through this rubbish, the Infidels were even now stalking within the lands of Naggaroth. Those Asur must die, even the thought of them simmered his blood.
Hocath, sensing his anger, withered her dark bulk beneath him, her tail twitching, an unending snake like thing that turned up the earth beneath it with large plow-share gashes. She was the only good thing that came of Furion’s consistent madness. Hocath; a present for Lord Thornblood that he had not dared refuse.
Indeed the visit from that male witch was a curse more than a blessing. The sorcerer was still speaking his gibberish, a drone that had continued long into the day. More importantly, the sorcerer made his elves nervous with his chanting and stalking about clutching that poisonous looking ring of his. Thornblood had not even seen a Dread Sorceress all morning, and that was unsettling in itself since the only male sorcerer left in Naggaroth usually drew those creatures to him like barnacles to a fleet.
One of his lesser nobles followed Furion like a dog, skulking about, nodding his head at Furion’s whispered groanings, and generally causing more consternation amongst the ranks. Still the dark mage almost always brought reward to those who survived his maneuverings and thus he was nervously tolerated even by the Dread Lord himself.
Deep in such contemplation, Lord Thornblood almost fell from the back of Hocath when Furion started mumbling Thornblood’s own name from beneath Hocath’s bulk.
“Great victory I promise you, my Lord, but you must heed my words.”
Thornblood nodded slightly at the mage. His cold eyes hiding the nervous tension the mage had built up that morning.
“Yes my Lord.” Furion mumbled and looked deeply into Thornblood’s eyes. “If you follow my will you shall live. If not welll…” His voice died in what sounded like the mixture of a chuckle and a cough.
“Speak your wisdom, Ancient One. I shall listen.” The Dread Lord commanded.
“Ty’Laxthas, your noble, will do my bidding. You must allow him his own will. The rest of your army you shall command. Destroy the long plodding thing before you feast upon the fat one. This you must do.”
***
Furion had disappeared later that day. Predictably the large army of lizards had appeared soon after that. Skinks swarmed from the edges of the jungle, while three units of Saurus warriors surrounding a unit of Temple Guard, embedded with the fattest, oldest, and most lethargic looking Slaan that Thornblood had yet seen. The plodding thing that Furion had mentioned could only be that Rhinocerous looking creature upon which was perched more of the screeching Skinks.
Thornblood had fought Slaans before, and it was never good. Those fat pigs usually accounted for the deaths of most druchii while they cast their powerful magic almost ubiquitously at will. His convent of sorceresses would more than likely be useless against such powerful magic, and he felt like sneering at them, hidden behind his units. He could feel their tension. They would be responsible for the survival of the army this day, for some time. Them and his Seal of the Tower of Ghrond.
He urged his army forward. Dark Riders sprang from each side of the army, two units a side their repeater crossbows clicking while small numbers of Saurus fell to the earth. His harpies swarmed towards the trees where the Skinks hid like savages amongst the thick vines. Any Skinks charging the Dark Riders would be charged in return by the harpies if the Skinks ventured from the forest.
Meanwhile the contingent of Black Guard, their Banner of Dread burning a hole in the mist, marched calmly toward the two units of Saurus on the left that separated the Temple Guard from the next Saurus unit and the Stegadon. They would hold up that side of the battlefield while he, his knights and a legion of Spears and a chariot would take the right side. Another legion of Spears and chariot would hang back and counterattack any assault on the Black Guard, especially since one of the cold ones on that chariot had bitten the other resulting in a feeble plunge forward from the chariot as its riders tried to regain control over the stupid creatures.
The Slaan easily countered the feeble magic of the Sorceresses, however one spell was able to get past his capable defenses. A chilling wind began to freeze over the skinks hiding in the woods. Some fell to the earth while the others desperately tried to unfreeze their blowpipes.
A rumble of rotten leathery feet and the lizards began to swarm forwards. There were more Saurus seen lately in the Lizard armies. The Dark Elves had punctured too deeply into Lustria, and the spawning pools had begun to creep with more powerful bodies.
Luckily, the sorceresses managed to dispel most of Lord Kroak’s magic, burning many of their scrolls. Still Kroak was able to drain the power of one of the sorceresses. Thornblood could see her weaken, he could hear her cries of dismay and smell her fear.
A giant bow on the back of the howdah lauched an arrow that narrowly missed the legion of Spears to Thornblood’s left. Calmly holding their formation the Legion of the Bloody Thorn marched on.
Stupidly the Skinks charged from the forest at a unit of Dark Riders who easily fled from them. But now it was time for the Druchii.
Lord Thornblood cried to charge, and his elves surged forwards. Into the right unit of Saurus warriors crashed the Cold One Knights and the chariot. Green blood flew, and pieces of colourful skin and scales churned out the back of the chariot as they rode down the unit of Saurus warriors. Meanwhile Hocath feasted upon the remains of the Stegadon as skinks lay torn from the howdah by the gauntlet that Thornblood had aquired from Albion. Hocath’s bulk had easily overpowered the overgrown mud-dweller and now she feasted upon its huge liver, her long delicate tongue flicking within the dark victuals of the beast.
Harpies screeched in at the skinks that fled from them but were still barely run down by the flying creatures. The harpies would not be seen for a while, Thornblood could hear their cawing way into the depths of the forest as they fed. Within the mess of Skinks had fled what appeared to be the feather bonneted form of a Skink Priest, his head last seen dangling from the claws of a blood drenched harpy.
On the left flank the Black Guard crashed into the far left unit of Saurus warriors. Saurus and Dark elf bodies littered the ground but each side held to fight.
The Temple Guard with their Fat Frog had planned a counterattack on the Dark Elven Cold Ones and Chariot should they break the Saurus warriors but fail to chase past the Guard. A unit of Dark Riders moved in front of the Guard, urged forwards by Thornblood. They would sacrifice themselves to draw the Guard away from the Cold One Knights and prevent a counter attack.
Meanwhile Ty’Laxthas, mounted upon a dark Pegasus landed behind the Temple Guard.
The Temple Guard, with no target but the Dark Riders, charged the elves which held. They were easily ripped from their saddles but they had sacrificed themselves well. The Guard was now surrounded by elves and facing the wrong direction.
The second right unit of Saurus, paying no mind to the Dread Banner, flank charged the Black Guard, who held against the horde. More Dark elves died but still the Black Guard held.
Lord Kroak reached into the depths of his mind and drew forth his most powerful spells. Casting them with ease he gazed upon the battlefield with contentment. Suddenly, however, his eyes widened. His magic was draining with each spell! (Miscast caused by the Ring of Hotek carried by Ty’Laxthas.) He had not felt so much danger in so many years. Carefully he cast his magic but the sorceresses were able to fend off his weakened state. (Casting with less dice to prevent doubles that cause miscasts as a result of the Ring). Still Kroak was able to cast the Ruination upon Lord Thornblood himself with an irresistible force. Hocath raged as blood was ripped from the arteries around her neck. Still the Dragon stood powerful. Thornblood shrugged off the powerful blow. Such magic would be devastating without that strange Ring of Hotek.
The chariot and Spears of the Legion of the Bloody Thorn crashed into the flanking unit of Saurus warriors. Black Guard carved into the Saurus and the flanking unit broke and fled while the other unit in front of the Black Guard easily held its ground. Only seven Black Guard remained and yet they fought on while the spears and chariot raged past them running down the previously flanking Saurus warriors.
Meanwhile the other chariot went stupid and moved off into the forest. The Cold One Knights turned to face the flank of the Temple Guard while Thornblood urged the Hocath’s bulk to the rear of the Temple Guard. Barely able to stretch it’s bulk into the sky, the Black Dragon glided ponderously over the ruined forest and crashed to the ground to the rear of the Temple Guard. The second unit of spears moved into charge range of the front of the unit while the dark riders raged about the Temple Guard shooting Guard with their crossbows.
Miscasting again and again, Lord Kroak’s unit faced Thornblood. The Ruination of Cities again went off, but amazingly backfired over Kroaks unit and hit the Dark Elf Spear Legion killing four warriors. Once again the elves held their ground. Amazingly the sorceresses using a scroll and dispel power were able to hold back most of the magic and prevented Life Magic from animating the trees and ripping Cold One Knights apart.
Crashing into the unit of Temple Guard, the Dread Cold One Knight took the challenge and destroyed the Revered Guardian. Thornblood ripped apart lizard guard with his gauntleted fist while Hocath feasted upon any that remained behind the Dread Lord’s rage. Crumpled from three angles, the Guard unit fell apart. Cold ones and the horrible Dragon were too dreadful for even their cold minds.
Grasping Lord Kroak’s head in his gauntlet he felt the vertebrae in the neck of the venerable creature crumple like chalk and snap. Hocath stared into the creature’s eyes as it died and then ripped its head off with a bite so rapid that a loud pop started even the stupid cold ones that were lapping upon the broken bodies of Saurus warriors.
I submitted one here as mentioned in another post.
http://stormofchaos.ca.games-workshop.c ... ID=3355042
Lord Kroak bit it big time because of the lovely ring of hotek.
Remember support our fluff!
Here it is for those foolish defenders of middenhiem.
Furion could feel the cool sensation of the life serum washing over his body, he hadn't breathed yet, it awaited his will. For a time he had wandered in places unknown to men and elves, inhabited by screaming hordes and denizens of wretched souls until he had found the one he wanted and grasped it's streaking body with conjured talons.
Shrieking the soul withered in his grasp, its eyes dull and fading from a millennia of continuity.
"S'Tarak." Furion whispered. "It is I. Furion."
The soul's eyes started to draw consciousness from the vacuum. Soon Furion was staring into the burning eyes of one of his daughters. Even after so many years, he remembered her hatred as clearly as he saw it now, and yet in that once powerful mind existed a cunning intellect. A deadly intellect.
"It is you. At last my waiting is over, seeing you here before allows me a thin happiness, a brief victory over my eternal wasting." S'Tarak hissed, her wisp taking a vaguely elvish form.
"Tell me of Lord Kroak." Furion demanded.
"Tell me first how you died?" She demanded. Furion could see the greed in her eyes.
"Lord Kroak first."
"Why do you ask?" Her eyes probed and then a thin smile as the realization occurred.
"He's your doom!" She shrieked, her gleeful lips curled into a horrible grin of sharp teeth.
"No." Furion replied. "He's yours."
"You cannot do that. It is unwritten!" She squealed as Furion unleashed the bound spell, and from within the ring about his cruel fingers, a clawed fist grasped the withering form of S'Tarak drawing her soul back into its onyx pearl. Furion clutched the ring tightly and spoke the word.
He burst forth from the blue waters of the life medium, his body older, yet his mind older still. The cavern was silent, dead of all but his rapid breathing and the drip of the media falling from his hairless arms.
Cautiously he removed himself from the casing and looked about the room. Silently he waited for several hours, but heard nothing, and so drew himself from the waters. About him, a repetitive row of casings, a few glowing with a cold blue light as it nourished identical bodies. Many, however, were empty. He would have to act quickly, the one he seeked moved with purpose through the world, it's only mandate the contemplation of magic beyond even Furion’s power. He could feel S'Tarak straining within the bounds of the Ring of Hotek, her soul desperately seeking a return to the void. He drew black robes about his naked body and felt the power seeping into his mind.
Hocath knew he would come at the worst time. It had been many years since she had slept and during those last few months she had reaped the reward of her intricate plan, and had gathered it hungrily into her great maw. She could feel it now, twisting and rattling inside her, as her gullet thrashed the malleable and somewhat foreign prize. A king's ransom in gold, spent with blood and offering no purchase now as it was doomed to lie endlessly in her hold.
Her great wings folded as she landed beside the familiar cave and wrenched apart a giant bolder with one clawed fist. Snakelike and tubular, she squeezed her sinewy bulk between the crack of the rocks and twisting, drew the boulder back in front of the hole.
"Hocath."
She writhed, and drew a rapid breath, filling her nostrils with a familiar scent she mixed the air with the noxious chemicals inside her.
"Hocath." Said the voice again, sternly. "I have come for the repayment."
"Whumph." She sighed, a cloud of black froth from her lips. "So tired." She whined. "So tired."
"Do not take me for a fool, Hocath. I have come for repayment. You must pay."
"Come out of the dimness, so I can look upon you, Furion." She croaked, resigned. "I will fulfill the payment."
Dread Lord Grias Thornblood, Knight of Hag Graef, Lord of the Southern Reaches and Commander of Such Armies glared at the carnage about him with a cool and deadly eye. Strewn amongst the dying colours of those lizards that walked like men were dark shadows, the bodies of dead Druchii still clutching their now useless weapons. For a brief moment it reminded him of a time long centuries past when he and his sister would dive for the black pearls that lay amidst the colourful outgrowth of coral in a land long since forgotten. Even for Lord Thornblood, an elf who had known only millennia of slaughter, this war had dragged on long enough. Khaine and slaughter be damned. His elves had fought well, their cold one carriages were brim full of treasure and magic, relics of countless Lizard shrines. It was time for home, to return to the cool clutches of Naggaroth, the long spires of the Homeland, the piercing dark trees and forests, and the mountains that promised a cool breath and a calm evening to ponder a more promising war. A war with purpose, rather than this unending, crawling jungle of filth and sticky things that stank more alive than when dead. It was time to crush the Pretender King, to destroy the Infidels once more, for there was no doubt that while his legions clawed their way through this rubbish, the Infidels were even now stalking within the lands of Naggaroth. Those Asur must die, even the thought of them simmered his blood.
Hocath, sensing his anger, withered her dark bulk beneath him, her tail twitching, an unending snake like thing that turned up the earth beneath it with large plow-share gashes. She was the only good thing that came of Furion’s consistent madness. Hocath; a present for Lord Thornblood that he had not dared refuse.
Indeed the visit from that male witch was a curse more than a blessing. The sorcerer was still speaking his gibberish, a drone that had continued long into the day. More importantly, the sorcerer made his elves nervous with his chanting and stalking about clutching that poisonous looking ring of his. Thornblood had not even seen a Dread Sorceress all morning, and that was unsettling in itself since the only male sorcerer left in Naggaroth usually drew those creatures to him like barnacles to a fleet.
One of his lesser nobles followed Furion like a dog, skulking about, nodding his head at Furion’s whispered groanings, and generally causing more consternation amongst the ranks. Still the dark mage almost always brought reward to those who survived his maneuverings and thus he was nervously tolerated even by the Dread Lord himself.
Deep in such contemplation, Lord Thornblood almost fell from the back of Hocath when Furion started mumbling Thornblood’s own name from beneath Hocath’s bulk.
“Great victory I promise you, my Lord, but you must heed my words.”
Thornblood nodded slightly at the mage. His cold eyes hiding the nervous tension the mage had built up that morning.
“Yes my Lord.” Furion mumbled and looked deeply into Thornblood’s eyes. “If you follow my will you shall live. If not welll…” His voice died in what sounded like the mixture of a chuckle and a cough.
“Speak your wisdom, Ancient One. I shall listen.” The Dread Lord commanded.
“Ty’Laxthas, your noble, will do my bidding. You must allow him his own will. The rest of your army you shall command. Destroy the long plodding thing before you feast upon the fat one. This you must do.”
***
Furion had disappeared later that day. Predictably the large army of lizards had appeared soon after that. Skinks swarmed from the edges of the jungle, while three units of Saurus warriors surrounding a unit of Temple Guard, embedded with the fattest, oldest, and most lethargic looking Slaan that Thornblood had yet seen. The plodding thing that Furion had mentioned could only be that Rhinocerous looking creature upon which was perched more of the screeching Skinks.
Thornblood had fought Slaans before, and it was never good. Those fat pigs usually accounted for the deaths of most druchii while they cast their powerful magic almost ubiquitously at will. His convent of sorceresses would more than likely be useless against such powerful magic, and he felt like sneering at them, hidden behind his units. He could feel their tension. They would be responsible for the survival of the army this day, for some time. Them and his Seal of the Tower of Ghrond.
He urged his army forward. Dark Riders sprang from each side of the army, two units a side their repeater crossbows clicking while small numbers of Saurus fell to the earth. His harpies swarmed towards the trees where the Skinks hid like savages amongst the thick vines. Any Skinks charging the Dark Riders would be charged in return by the harpies if the Skinks ventured from the forest.
Meanwhile the contingent of Black Guard, their Banner of Dread burning a hole in the mist, marched calmly toward the two units of Saurus on the left that separated the Temple Guard from the next Saurus unit and the Stegadon. They would hold up that side of the battlefield while he, his knights and a legion of Spears and a chariot would take the right side. Another legion of Spears and chariot would hang back and counterattack any assault on the Black Guard, especially since one of the cold ones on that chariot had bitten the other resulting in a feeble plunge forward from the chariot as its riders tried to regain control over the stupid creatures.
The Slaan easily countered the feeble magic of the Sorceresses, however one spell was able to get past his capable defenses. A chilling wind began to freeze over the skinks hiding in the woods. Some fell to the earth while the others desperately tried to unfreeze their blowpipes.
A rumble of rotten leathery feet and the lizards began to swarm forwards. There were more Saurus seen lately in the Lizard armies. The Dark Elves had punctured too deeply into Lustria, and the spawning pools had begun to creep with more powerful bodies.
Luckily, the sorceresses managed to dispel most of Lord Kroak’s magic, burning many of their scrolls. Still Kroak was able to drain the power of one of the sorceresses. Thornblood could see her weaken, he could hear her cries of dismay and smell her fear.
A giant bow on the back of the howdah lauched an arrow that narrowly missed the legion of Spears to Thornblood’s left. Calmly holding their formation the Legion of the Bloody Thorn marched on.
Stupidly the Skinks charged from the forest at a unit of Dark Riders who easily fled from them. But now it was time for the Druchii.
Lord Thornblood cried to charge, and his elves surged forwards. Into the right unit of Saurus warriors crashed the Cold One Knights and the chariot. Green blood flew, and pieces of colourful skin and scales churned out the back of the chariot as they rode down the unit of Saurus warriors. Meanwhile Hocath feasted upon the remains of the Stegadon as skinks lay torn from the howdah by the gauntlet that Thornblood had aquired from Albion. Hocath’s bulk had easily overpowered the overgrown mud-dweller and now she feasted upon its huge liver, her long delicate tongue flicking within the dark victuals of the beast.
Harpies screeched in at the skinks that fled from them but were still barely run down by the flying creatures. The harpies would not be seen for a while, Thornblood could hear their cawing way into the depths of the forest as they fed. Within the mess of Skinks had fled what appeared to be the feather bonneted form of a Skink Priest, his head last seen dangling from the claws of a blood drenched harpy.
On the left flank the Black Guard crashed into the far left unit of Saurus warriors. Saurus and Dark elf bodies littered the ground but each side held to fight.
The Temple Guard with their Fat Frog had planned a counterattack on the Dark Elven Cold Ones and Chariot should they break the Saurus warriors but fail to chase past the Guard. A unit of Dark Riders moved in front of the Guard, urged forwards by Thornblood. They would sacrifice themselves to draw the Guard away from the Cold One Knights and prevent a counter attack.
Meanwhile Ty’Laxthas, mounted upon a dark Pegasus landed behind the Temple Guard.
The Temple Guard, with no target but the Dark Riders, charged the elves which held. They were easily ripped from their saddles but they had sacrificed themselves well. The Guard was now surrounded by elves and facing the wrong direction.
The second right unit of Saurus, paying no mind to the Dread Banner, flank charged the Black Guard, who held against the horde. More Dark elves died but still the Black Guard held.
Lord Kroak reached into the depths of his mind and drew forth his most powerful spells. Casting them with ease he gazed upon the battlefield with contentment. Suddenly, however, his eyes widened. His magic was draining with each spell! (Miscast caused by the Ring of Hotek carried by Ty’Laxthas.) He had not felt so much danger in so many years. Carefully he cast his magic but the sorceresses were able to fend off his weakened state. (Casting with less dice to prevent doubles that cause miscasts as a result of the Ring). Still Kroak was able to cast the Ruination upon Lord Thornblood himself with an irresistible force. Hocath raged as blood was ripped from the arteries around her neck. Still the Dragon stood powerful. Thornblood shrugged off the powerful blow. Such magic would be devastating without that strange Ring of Hotek.
The chariot and Spears of the Legion of the Bloody Thorn crashed into the flanking unit of Saurus warriors. Black Guard carved into the Saurus and the flanking unit broke and fled while the other unit in front of the Black Guard easily held its ground. Only seven Black Guard remained and yet they fought on while the spears and chariot raged past them running down the previously flanking Saurus warriors.
Meanwhile the other chariot went stupid and moved off into the forest. The Cold One Knights turned to face the flank of the Temple Guard while Thornblood urged the Hocath’s bulk to the rear of the Temple Guard. Barely able to stretch it’s bulk into the sky, the Black Dragon glided ponderously over the ruined forest and crashed to the ground to the rear of the Temple Guard. The second unit of spears moved into charge range of the front of the unit while the dark riders raged about the Temple Guard shooting Guard with their crossbows.
Miscasting again and again, Lord Kroak’s unit faced Thornblood. The Ruination of Cities again went off, but amazingly backfired over Kroaks unit and hit the Dark Elf Spear Legion killing four warriors. Once again the elves held their ground. Amazingly the sorceresses using a scroll and dispel power were able to hold back most of the magic and prevented Life Magic from animating the trees and ripping Cold One Knights apart.
Crashing into the unit of Temple Guard, the Dread Cold One Knight took the challenge and destroyed the Revered Guardian. Thornblood ripped apart lizard guard with his gauntleted fist while Hocath feasted upon any that remained behind the Dread Lord’s rage. Crumpled from three angles, the Guard unit fell apart. Cold ones and the horrible Dragon were too dreadful for even their cold minds.
Grasping Lord Kroak’s head in his gauntlet he felt the vertebrae in the neck of the venerable creature crumple like chalk and snap. Hocath stared into the creature’s eyes as it died and then ripped its head off with a bite so rapid that a loud pop started even the stupid cold ones that were lapping upon the broken bodies of Saurus warriors.