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Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby DeadPigeonGolem » Wed Apr 20, 2011 6:26 am

A wise man once said: If you are unequal to your enemy in every where, flee.

General Menesthecles did just that. There was no sense staying here any longer. His men had little to no morale now, their machines damaged, and it was really difficult to destroy flying energy balls.

"FALL BACK!!" he shouted. "Retreat!! Make for the mountains!!"

As orderly as was possible, the Sixth Field Army fell back with all speed, dromes leaving fairly obvious bomb traps in their wake that, nevertheless, forced the enemy to slow down or get blown up. They headed for the mountains to the north and the Phaedrin that had set up camp there, though nobody knew it at the time.

---

All soldiers have disengaged and moved at maximum speed toward the mountains. We can assume that some were picked off by The One's forces, so:

600 Hoplites
20 Tauros
2 Heroes (they do have an annoying tendency to survive)
1 Leader
73 Dromes
81 Mouls
9 Patakos
85 Gastraphes
4 Dominix (I'll assume you shanked the one who charged)
24 Celihdes (speed and agility win)
12 Tanios

...are currently making a fighting retreat towards the mountains.
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby The Watcher » Wed Apr 20, 2011 8:43 am

--------------In the Western Forest------------------

Machaira of Iorathia, Right Hand of the King-in-Bronze, Gray Warden of the Phaedrin, made an imposing sight, even to the dauntless eyes of the lunar clan hero before her.

She rode into the clearing with her head held high, a powerful woman easily six feet tall if not taller, mounted astride an impressive beast, resembling some cross between elk and draft horse, that made her seem even greater in stature. A spiky, flowing mane of hair merged into the short fur surrounding her pink-skinned face and covering her body, a transluscent, gleaming white with lightest hints of blue and silver. The brilliant cyan eyes of Iorathian nobility shone intently in the night as she stared her opposite down. Moonlight cascaded over her armor, bathing every inch of the elaborately worked silver-white metal until it glowed, her ermine fur cape draped carelessly over one shoulder. Every inch the warrior princess, at her waist was a long-handled blade, and across her back, an antique rifle of some sort, exquisitely wrought in the same white metal as her armor.

Behind her were a stoic score of fellow men, if they could be called that, for they were the same sort of apelike humanoid as herself, covered in spiky gray-white fur with pinkish skin and features somewhere in between simian and human. Clad in crimson, fur-lined cloaks and equally brilliant armor of some amber-colored metal, burnished to a mirror finish, they sat with the disciplined ease and readiness of hardened soldiers, golden lances by their sides, and heavy short-barreled firearms in their laps. Proud and alien they sat there, so like men and yet so clearly something not quite the same, sizing up the woods about them with a practiced and wary eye.

The Warden fought down surprise as she looked at the line of beings arrayed before her. They looked sort of like smaller, skinnier tarsans, their facial features at once familiar and strange, with small manes but no fur, an immensely strangely shaped nose, and skin pigmentation unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Standing there, they looked somewhat frail and pitiful. She wondered how they survived winters on their world at all.


As she dismounted, Machaira was glad of her impossibly keen alchemically enhanced senses. Their tribesman scouts had mentioned that these strangers kept hidden from the cover of the trees throughout the entire exchange, and as the diplomatic party had closed, she could faintly hear breathing from all around her. It was just the wrong pitch for a Tarsan, and that left only one option. Resting a hand on the long hilt of her own blade, electricity flickering faintly about its edges at her side, she squared off across from the Son of the Moon, declaring boldly in a voice that was powerful and authoritative, commanding the respect and attention of the listener.

"You meet us with weapons bared, faces masked, and if I am to judge from our first encounter, hidden guns in the trees. Is this how you treat diplomats, who came to answer your message in good grace?" she growled, speaking their language flawlessly save for a hint of a unique accent completely unlike anything the Alliance soldiers had ever encountered before. "If you have any honor at all, stranger, you will call your men to stand in the open, where they can be seen. All of your men. I am Machaira di Iorathia, Second Daughter of the Alchemist-Queen, Grey Warden of the Phaedrin, Right Hand of the King-in-Bronze, and I do not negotiate with firearms pointed at my head."

--------------On the Verge of Twilight------------------
Curiosity and duty manage to beat out fear, at least for a little while. The tribesmen move in a little further, and investigate the strange pools of shadow the way any superstitious barbarian would; firing a couple arrows at them from a safe distance to see what would happen.
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Eltharrion » Wed Apr 20, 2011 10:24 am

Even though they were prepared to meet an enemy, still some of the troops gasped slightly on the sight of the Mirror lances and Grey Warden.
They seemed organized, unlike the alliance. At least in heraldry: ragged clothes or black, brown and grey. Leather, cloth, synthetic fibers. Some of them had small metal armor plates, some had bullet-proof vests on their shoulder. Some had only open jacket. And no connection on weapons. Every man and woman was carrying weapon they were comfortable with, causing everyone to have an unique look over them. And yes, there were equally women and men among their ranks.
There was not a single soldier looking the same, but the battle-hardened faces and bodies could still be seen clearly. As with the Lances, their elite nature, training and skill could clearly be seen.

Then, as a one, they all lifted up, activating their engines and taking good order of standing, either leaning on one feet and their bike or hovering on spot with AG-motors. It wasn't hostile, but more off a show. "We can be intimidating and organized as well", you could think it meant.

By the time Warden mentioned their soldiers hidden around her, few of the Raiders pulled out their guns. With the sudden declaration of their tactic, they felt really vulnerable and in need to make it up somehow. This wasn't their style, not their land, and definitely not their plan. But then, the Son suddenly waved his hand in quick succession, lifting it first up, closing it and rolling it down with two fingers opening. With few grunts and doubting faces, the Raiders sheathed their weapons yet.

The Son then began to move his hands in complex forms in front of him, even during the time the Grey Warden was speaking. When she was finished, the Raider standing next to the Son began her speech.

"I am Yukushi, daughter of the Guryama, second line of the Moon's main house, and I will speak for my clan's head, the one who is blessed by the Moon, Kokredomi. He says that you must understand our ways. We are on unknown land, surrounded by multiple hostiles on both east and south, even our holy lights of Sun and Moon are different. You are not the first ones to meet us. Other force has already taken place in south. They destroyed one of our campsites prepared for traveling. Even though we were first to assault their possible scouts, they never answered with nothing but force. As such, we can't leave easily to believe you might be any different. On our home world, there were only two types of forces: Those who would join us, and those we need to kill. It might not work in this place so easily, but our Ruler and my clan's Head both hope you come to understand our reasons."

Then, with a large wave of his hand, Son made a slight whistling sound with the wind and his clothes. Few moments later, all the Wardens hidden on the ground rose silently up and revealed themselves, nearest one rising only few steps to Mirror Lance unit's left side, seemingly appearing from nearly thin around around the ground level. They were covering their faces, either with masks or their bare hands, and slowly walked around to the sides of the Son.

Son began his hand-moving again, and Yukushi continued, holding her long black hair from getting to her face with her arm-hand.
"My lord tells you he has now lifted all the invisible forces from around you. He has called our hidden soldiers from the woods too. For our clan, this kind of act is considered maybe the greatest honor one can gain as a possible enemy in situation of negotiation. We have opened to you, leaving our main strength away and coming to talk on your terms. We do hope you understand it clearly.
My lord also needs to hear your answer: Do you serve the Emperor of the Zu-Kya-Shi, and be crushed under him, or do you join with us, equally working and sharing everything we achieve, until the Emperor is defeated and the lands he own shared to everyone, according to OUR ancient traditions and legacies? Choose the later, and we can let you meet our great Ruler, the one who walks between the Dawn and Dusk, and form the eternal bonds in both our ways and your ways. Choose the first, and you give us no other possibility but to cut you and your people down on meeting them."

After this speech, Son suddenly weaved his hand one more time, and Yukushi quickly added.
"My lord, the ruler of the Moon clan, cannot tell what Sun's people think, but he would personally hope you can walk away from here unscratched."
This last line caused some near-silent words of surprise to rise from among the Raiders, few speaking for the Moon and few for the Sun.
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Avashka » Wed Apr 20, 2011 2:51 pm

Time passes, and the swirling expanse swells outward again. The Twilight has begun to encroach upon the territories of the One and the Watchers of Fire and Stone, misty tendrils reaching and probing like the blind limbs of some kind of tremendous idiot animal, carrying with them eddies of nightmare creatures lurking within the false stability of the enshrouded ground.

The band of errant tribesmen, unless they react quickly, will soon find themselves lost in the fog, though they may have not strayed a step from their present location, firing arrows at the inky splotches on the ground. Their missiles, well-shot and well-aimed by the experienced if barbaric warriors, fly true, but simply embed themselves in the glistening surface, with no reaction from the monstrosities lurking within, though some are too close to the surface and have destabilized somewhat from the impacts.

As the tribesmen are distracted, however, from all sides emerge gangling, monstrous creatures of shadow, trailing glimmering ribbons from their limbs as they move with disturbingly fluid grace. The Furies, slithering up from the very fabric of the twilight's flooring, charge in mindless, berserk fury, lashing with their ephemeral claws. Dozens of swirling, distorted figures-- some unrecognizable, other appearing as vague Phaedrin-like ghosts-- flit about to fill the gaps. The Dreaming's intent is clear-- to claim its first lives on the plane.

(( 10 Furies and a whole mess of figments took the opportunity to ambush. The Takers will spread out around the area to pick off escapees. ))
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Shamus » Wed Apr 20, 2011 7:14 pm

The Guardians sized up the "bird" in an instant, and the Source gave its orders. If a glowing human was bad, a huge glowing bird was worse. All units capable of doing so were instructed to attack while the Source began to withdraw from the field.

The Flame Spiders and Fire-Born fought on, with no long-range weapons with which to engage The One. However, the remaining 38 Orbs and 24 Sentinels rose to meet it, while 90 Watchers let their spears fly once more, 17 Lava Beasts, 5 Dragons, and the nine-headed Hydra spewed forth fire and burning magma, and 9 Golems hurled a portion of themselves, hot rock and magma, at the giant creature.

The Old One jumped, heat rippling around again as he levitated to a perch on the Source, turning and letting a thin ribbon of fire shoot from his hand to strike the bird creature.


Army:
Flame Spiders: 80 remaining
Fire-Born: 43 remaining (those left behind by the Old One are moving to join the fight)
Orbs: 38 remaining
Watchers: 90 remaining
Soot Wraith: 17 remaining (they are being sucked up in the Source's wake as it quits the battlefield, thus withdrawing)
Lava Beasts: 17 remaining (plus 7 out scouting)
Sentinels: 24 remaining
Golems: 9 remaining
Dragons: 6 remaining (the Old One's mount is moving to join the fight)
The Old One: Withdrawing to the Source
The Hydra: Staying in the fight
The Source: Moving to escape

Just for jollies, I worked up the point total here. The One is being attacked by a total of 14,895 points of creatures. *omfg* I honestly did not expect it to add up to that much. I also do not expect you to just roll over and let The One die Duke. I'm aware that there is more to it than points, and many of these attacks could be said to do little damage. (In particular, I need to know if The One came down to within a few hundred feet, because that is the range of the Lava Beasts, Dragons, Hydra, etc, breath weapons, and if they had no chance to hit The One they wouldn't have even tried.)
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby DeadPigeonGolem » Wed Apr 20, 2011 7:55 pm

((I would like to note that it is possible for the Sixth Field Army to regain their morale. Should the combined hit from the Fire and Stone make sufficient contact, it may be possible for the Sixth Field Army to return to the field of battle.))
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Kithrune » Thu Apr 21, 2011 6:27 am

Oh this was too good a chance to miss.

The Black Scale had found them. a little ripple here, a slight distortion there, very good, very skilled, oh so very cocky.

all the little ducks in a row, all showing off there weps, all thinking themselves safe.

"Master Engineer Hardfang, the coordinates are 62'43'80 thought 73'97'50."

Hermonie was delighted, it was finally time to strike, to soften them up before the massive attack.

"Boilflight, this is the master engineer, bombard the following coordinates..."

As the shells rained from the sky, the black Scale fled covertly, bringing with the satisfaction of a job well done.

Drakeluis put down the recover. diplomacy would have to wait, the Steam Scale fly north, time to end this.

Summery: Hermoine Hardfang (750pt) is using Orbital bombardment on the Sun and Moon troops based on the coordinates the stealth unit gave her. They Sun and Moon position is now being shelled from Orbit. any buildings or large vehicles take heavy damage, troops take damage and the forest around them takes damage (trees falling and splintering, no fires). The steam scale army is moving north with the exception of the one Black Scale unit, heading south on foot and the Master of Breath at the Sixth Army camp.

I'll let you calculate your damages but at this point about 1/3 to 1/2 of any big thins you have should be destroyed and your guys should be in disarray due to the destruction seemingly coming out of nowhere.
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby The Watcher » Thu Apr 21, 2011 9:49 pm

((We're going to be assuming there's still a few moments left here to tie up dialogue before the artillery strike hits))

Machaira kept a calm face, belying the shock she felt as men and women emerged out of thin air, or else hovering on it via metallic platforms stood upon like small chariots or ridden like steeds. These not-Tarsans clearly posessed powerful alechemy indeed! She revised her earlier opinion. Clearly their physical frailties and maladaptations had driven them to develop their alchemical skill faster, in order to survive in their world. In spite of herself, and of their ragtag appearance, she was impressed. As the Raiders twitched for their weapons, so too did her lancers, until the hand-signs of the Son defused the situation.

"The honor is noted, Clanleader Kokredomi. We too are not originally of this world, but that matters little. We are here, and so we will do the name of Phaedrin justice until such time as we may return home."

She smiled thinly. "Our worlds are not so different, then, it seems. For though not all are wise enough to realise it, there are only those who side with the Phaedrin by choice, and those who will serve under them by right of strength."

The grey warden bristled proudly at the spokeswoman's question. "The Phaedrin serve none but the Phaedrin. We acknowledge no Emperor and no 'Zu-kya-shi.' We are free men and women, beholden to our honorable kings and queens, themselves beholden to the High King- the King-in-Bronze, Hakairon Phaedrus. Were this Emperor to stand before me now and demand allegience of us, we would carve the insolence from his hide and grind his bones to dust beneath our bootheels."

"And so we are not your enemies, Clanleader Kokredomi. Your esteem and good wishes are an honor. But while at this moment we could part ways in peace, that does not neccesarily make us your allies. You must understand, your people's initial message could have been taken as a grave offense by our King, had he not been of a wise and understanding temperament in the face of new cultures. It insinuated that we would do as you command in exchange for your offer of reward, or else we would be attacked as enemies. Know this well: The only thing the Phaedrin give without reservation is vassaldom, which I warrant would not be to your liking. Our alliance, on the other hand, must be earned, never demanded."

"With this in mind, I am sure we two can come to an understanding on behalf of our respective peoples."

---------------------------Twilight Zone (doo dee doo doo doo dee doo doo!)-----------------
In the face of such primal terror and clear numerical superiority, separated from their warrior brethren and deep within foreign, unfamiliar territory, faced with what seemed to be spirits and the wraiths of the dead, the Tribesmen's course of action was clear.

Letting out a shout somewhere in between fearful yell and battlecry, the warriors begin falling back, loosing shafts into the mass of shadowy creatures about them as they did so. Turning, they begin half-marching, half-running back the way they came in a loose formation, snapping off shots as they can, with the row of tribesmen facing towards their exit unsheathing melee weapons to clear their escape route of whatever came near. Miraculously, they manage not to become separated in the fog, though safety is yet far ahead of them...
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby DeadPigeonGolem » Fri Apr 22, 2011 1:55 am

"SIR! LOOK!!!" shouted one of the dromes, pointing behind them.

DukeNukem wrote:Overhead, the wings were drooping, collapsing on themselves, losing their fearful symmetry. Shreds blown from it twirled in the air and came down. House-sized splashes of blood from The One fell to Earth- nightmarish liquid metal that hit the ground, formed into shapes, and began to rise.


There was a great cheer, even as the screams of pain and horrible, terrible rage from The One filled their heads.

"Dromes! Clear a path for the army!! Gastraphes, Patakos, suppressing fire on that monster!! Hoplites, do your best, but I know this range is not ideal for your weapons. Mouls, keep everyone supplied with ammunition. Tauros, hold back and provide moral support...

---

...and Koraki! Lead the Celihdes in an airstrike!"
"Acknowledged!" Koraki shouted back, banking and locking on her remaining missiles. ALL of her remaining missiles. The One's size and comparatively slow movement (in comparison to the gnat-like Celihdes at this scale) made it possible to lock even the slower and less agile anti-ground missiles to its signature. All the flights turned as one and did the same.

The sky behind them suddenly turned black as the exhaust of ((Quick tally: standard celihdes expended two missiles, Koraki has used 3. So, 24*6 + 3 = 147 missiles. 147 attacks * 75 = 11,025 points attack)) their missiles ignited simultaneously and streaked in like so many angry hornets of explosiveness. Around them, bullets shrieked by, crashing into The One (9 Patakos, 85 Gastraphes => 500*9 + 85*15 = 4500 + 1275 = 5775 points attack)).

---

Summary: The Sixth Field Army has rallied to 70% morale due to the clearly wounded and staggering Angel of Death ("A few lava monsters did so much damage, surely we can do better!! For HONOR, DUTY, and GLORY!!!!!"). Celihdes are doing a straight in airstrike. If they are wiped out, the heatseekers will continue and the LOS missiles will only have a 60% chance of impact ((I'll recalc the attack points depending on how many Celihdes you kill)). The Patakos, Hoplites, Tauros, Mouls, and Gastraphes are at about 200 yards down range and stationary. Dromes are currently disarming a path back to the battlefield. Hoplites aren't doing much except expending ammunition. They are essentially moral support at this distance, but they're effectiveness will climb exponentially from 150 yards inward. They are at 100% accuracy at 50 yards.

----

Total Attack Points Inbound: 11025 + 5775 = 16800 attack points
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Kithrune » Sat Apr 23, 2011 5:46 am

The emissary saw the battle raging from the camp, the strange elemental golems the alien dwarves were fighting and a sword laying unused in the camp.

It gave her an idea.

'High Commander, The Sixth field army is in the middle of battle. I am going to assist them. please send backup.'

The Master of Breath picked up the sword and flew into battle, leaving the radio behind in the general's tent. It was short, as all dwarven weapons are, but it would do. Besides, she never used her own in battle anyway.

As she flew to battle she realized these things were more than likely immune to fireballs, poison, and arc breath. The sword would have to do after all.

------------

High Commander Regenald was stunned. The Masters of Breath were an elite unit, obedient to extreams. if anything, there weakness was that they took orders too literally. If shes taking independent action, then she must have felt something strong. something that needed acting upon.

Barrowing the new squad of Helicopters he set out for the ambassador's location himself, wither it meant helping or burying her, he did not know.

(500pts used to create 5 shooting stars)

Summery
One Master of breath (100pt) has entered battle as a melee unit. she is not doing major damage but sticks out like a sore thumb.

Reginald Vaporwing and 5 shooting star helicopters (12500pt total) are heading towards the sixth field army camp to find the Master of Breath
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Shamus » Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:25 am

((Sorry, life...))

The pieces of The One rained down upon the Guardians, crushing friend and enemy alike. The Source was uncertain as how to proceed, given this new development. It settled on ordering the remaining units to engage any and all enemies, while it continued to withdraw.

Army:
Flame Spiders: 67 remaining
Fire-Born: 35 remaining (those left behind by the Old One have joined the fight)
Orbs: 28 remaining
Watchers: 81 remaining
Soot Wraith: 17 remaining (they are still being sucked up in the Source's wake as it quits the battlefield, thus withdrawing)
Lava Beasts: 11 remaining (plus 7 out scouting)
Sentinels: 22 remaining
Golems: 7 remaining
Dragons: 4 remaining (the Old One's mount is joining the fight)
The Old One: Withdrawn to the Source
The Hydra: Staying in the fight
The Source: Still moving to escape
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Avashka » Sat Apr 23, 2011 3:36 pm

The Tribesmen find their flight to be less simple than it might have seemed. The Furies seemed to phase in from all directions, flitting about the masses of ephemeral figments with uncanny grace as they closed to attack. While arrows find their mark, felling a few of the hulking abominations, the others fall upon the melee warriors and rend them apart, the bodies dissolving into ash as they collapse under the Furies' assault.

The other retreating Tribesmen find no easier fate, for the Takers have moved to cut off their escape. As ephemeral wraiths absorb their arrows and distract the archers' attention, skeletal shadows burst up from below, dragging unfortunates beneath the surface-- their fate heralded by a shower of blood emerging from the inky blackness below.

By some miracle, or perhaps as intended, as the few survivors make their way back to the edge of Twilight-- which seems to have spread yet more-- the remaining nightmare creatures cease their pursuit, disappearing back into the mists from whence they came. The Tribesmen seem to have found themselves, strangely, not far from the battlefield that consumed The One.

The Twilight has spread, its tendrils reaching and grasping for the warring combatants.

(( All gained points so far have been spent to advance the Twilight's borders toward the largest collection of lives and deaths. ))
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Kithrune » Sat Apr 23, 2011 6:06 pm

((Note: The Shooting Stars fly much faster than the infantry can))

Found her.

The Master of Breath (MoB) was right in the thick of it, sword swinging back and forth untill a spalsh of lava melted her. Then they saw it, the large mecanical thing slowly moving back, and the golems covering its retreat.

"Focus all fire on the flying gear!"

Reginald exited the helicopter and flew towards the giant dragon in the fray, gatling guns blazing and shooting lighning inbetween each word.

"TRAITOROUS! Lightning. ABOMINATION! lighting. YOU SLEW! Lightning. YOUR OWN!


Summery

Five Shooting Stars(500pt) have launched long range missiles at The Source. Reginald(750pt) is flying engaging the Hydra, attacking with his guns and cone of lightning. All Steam Scale and Sixth Army units Reginalds morale boost
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby Shamus » Sun Apr 24, 2011 5:19 am

The Source suddenly flared under this new attack, lightning dancing around it to strike the incoming missiles. They exploded prematurely, but still close enough to cause significant damage. As it shook from the shockwaves, one of its turning rings shattered and flew apart, dozens of pieces littering the landscape around it. The main "stationary" ring was cracked and fractured in two places, and the Old One nearly fell from his lofty perch.

Their response was immediate: The Source switched gears. (Harhar.) It could not evade such long-range attacks, and all other units were presently in combat with The One's forces. Thus, it rose higher in the sky and charged, seeking to get close enough to the enemy to apply its lethal halo of lightning. The Old One had more range to his skills however, and a thin ribbon of fire arced out at one of their foes.

Meanwhile the Hydra shuddered under the sudden aerial assault. Chips of stone flew off and magma splattered. The damage wasn't near enough to kill it outright or even cripple it though, and the Hydra turned several of its heads to the sky, spewing out flame and fragments of lava at this new threat.

These new struggles were merely in the foreground of the continuing battle against The One though, and the forces of Fire and Stone fought on in the background.


Rather than assuming a whole new round of battle, I'm just gonna lump this in with the old and say they happened about the same time. Thus I don't have to do new accounting for units lost fighting The One until Duke posts again.

So...

The Source (2,000pts) and the Old One (900pts) are moving to intercept and duke it out with the five Shooting Stars. (Not sure how useful the Old One is going to be, since his fighting abilities revolve around Fire.)

The Hydra (900pts) is attempting to swat the annoying hero attacking it from the sky. A thought occurred to me that despite the higher point rating, the Hydra has already been injured in combat and thus Reginald may win without too much effort. MAY I stress...
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Re: Plains of Blood III- Game Thread

Postby DeadPigeonGolem » Mon Apr 25, 2011 6:40 am

The Sixth Army began to disintegrate. And by "began", we really mean "rapidly and catastrophically entered the process of". The entire front line was quite literally decimated, leaving only one out of ten men alive (80/800). The dromes were mostly unscathed, but only because they were in entirely the wrong place to do anything but cry tears of shock and agony as they watched their comrades get torn apart, cooked alive, and other horrible visages. The Mouls were similarly decimated, but since they weren't part of the main group, the majority (65%) survived and ran away, where they regrouped with the Celihdes and Tauros, both of which were relatively unscathed (the Tauros because they were running around, the Celihdes because they were flying until now). There were no more Patakos or Gastraphes. General Menesthecles had his legs cut out from under him. He propped himself up against a boulder, draped his shield across his walker's body, and fired round after round in an epic last stand that could only end in tragedy.

"LEAVE!!" he shouted into the radio as Soliders and Elites of The One were disintegrated under his mighty blasts. "Warriors of the Sixth Field Army of the Eighth Alliance of Myrmidion!! Leave now, and do not return!! Leave, and do only one thing: remember us!! Remember the lives we sacrificed on these Plains of Blood in service to our cities and to the alliance!! Remember how we fought to the last breath to give our comrades a chance to die another day!! Remember us, and sing songs of war and glory in our honor!! REMEMBER US!!!"

With a final roar of fury and defiance, the great General activated his self destruct as he was overrun, taking no less then 15 enemies with him. The Hoplites, unable to escape due to their lack of forward velocity, fought to the last man in a rear guard action as the Tauros, Celihdes, and Mouls fled the battlefield for the mountains, the dromes splitting up and disappearing to regroup with the main force later.

And so, the Sixth Field Army was destroyed.



-----

Remains:

2 Heroes
24 Celihdes
20 Tauros
52 Mouls

-----

Later, a force of 100 Hoplites joined the fleeing force. It was decided that, while ultimate honor and glory went to the Last Line, it was entirely within the bounds of honorable combat for the remaining units to flee under the forceful command of their General.

-----

Total Forces:

2 Heroes
24 Celihdes
20 Tauros
52 Mouls
100 Hoplites
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DeadPigeonGolem
Vel'akar
 
Posts: 2477
Joined: Sun Oct 31, 2010 9:31 pm
Location: Nuqrah'shareh, studying Mana Cannons
Clan: Sarghress

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