Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
Legends of War:Trolzor
The throne room of King Levuel was a splendid hall, placed far up in the palace so that only the most exclusive of Levuel's guests would every lay eyes on its many splendors. There, one could see marble statues of the Lord god Beation, gaze upon tapestries woven centuries ago, and then, if they were very sharp, they may even realize that almost all of the things in the room were made of gold. Often, Levuel would hold splendid feast, with meats, fruits, and fish from as far away as Arbi or, if he was feeling very charitable, he would even include that sweet drink from the Inaros and or even some Garmarian sweets. At the height of the banquet, Levuel would rise from his throne and give a speech, much as its new occupant was doing now.
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He belched.
The other occupants let out a wild cheer, hoisting up their weapons and food. Some of them even had the manners to clean up using one of those "Panze fingz" on the wall. Others, in attempting to make some fun, used some of those "Stadnin' ston fingz" to sharpen (or dull) their drunken hacking skills. Even more of them were hacking up the furniture in the room, in an attempt to make a bigger fire, while others were stamping there feet (or skulls) loudly to the melodious tones of da Def Leaperz. Through the midst of all this, human slaves and Haflan servants darted around serving all kinds of drinks and, often painful, entertainment.
One such luckless Haflan was currently serving the Troll in the throne.
"Yer drink, sur," he squeled.
The Troll looked at the Haflen in disgusted shock.
"I dedn't ordur no drink!" He shouted.
The Haflen privately shook his head, "Ya order'd a Rad rum, sur."
"No I- ohh, lookatdat. W'O AR YA?"
"I brought yer rad rum, sur," The Haflen said.
"Wat took ya, ya Panze eatin' squish zogger!"
With that, the Troll had taken the drink, and was about to drink it, when he started eyeing it.
"'ow don't I no dat ya dedn't poezen dis!" He shouted. "Ya dink it furst!"
So the Haflen did take a sip from it, and was just about to say how tasty it was, when he realised he was headed for a new course in life: namely, the stairs.
"WHY DA ZOGG, DID YA ZOGGIN' DRINK ME RAD RUM!" He bellowed, which roused much laughter from the assembled Trolls.
He then noticed another Troll rushing up the stairs, without even so much as a chuckle at the Haflen he had passed.
"Wat da zogg do ya want ya panze!" He shouted.
It took a few seconds of incomprehensible gibberish before he finally said, "WE GOT NEW NABERZ!"
The Werchef gasped, "Did dey bring pie!"
"No," he said, "deyz broat lotz an' lotz o' sharp pointa metal fingz wi-"
"'OW DARE DEY NOT BRING ME- ohhhhhhhhhh pert-PIE!" The Werchef shouted.
He then stood up on the throne, cupped his hands over his mouth, and bellowed, "HAXOR!"
In a moment, a 'atet as large as most people came flying through the air and into its owners arms. And chest. And his body as a whole. In fact, he flew back into the throne and left a large imprint on the wall behind it. Rather than die, as any normal human ,or Troll for that matter, would have done, he simply stood up and screamed:
"FLAM WER!"
He continued screaming as he raced across the hall and out through the door. He only realized that he had gone through a window AFTER he had landed. Luckily, he had managed to land on a filled in section of moat, and as such, his fall was broken up by sharp rocks and bits of bone and metal. The Werchef stood up, brushed himself off, and pointed at the one guy in the large mob of ohmans who was wearing the most gold.
"Why'd ya trip me!" He demanded.
At first, the ohman was to stunned to do anything (most people don't survive an eighty foot drop onto rocks), but, the fact that he had said that he was being blamed for that, snapped him out of his shock.
"You vile pig," he said, "I would never shove anyone out of a window, even a-"
"'ho da Zog are ya, ya Panze!" the Troll interrupted, gathering some laughter from his Trolls on the walls (who also shared in the humans shock).
The man was so angry at being interrupted and insulted by a Troll, that he said, "I am Prince Delpeha Levuel, the true owner of this castle, to which you and your brutish companions have defiled. I bring with me an army of ten thousand of Vissaria's finest warriors and also a hundred of our finest preachers, so that we may destroy you in the Holy name of our Lord god Beati-"
It was then that he, and everyone else, became aware that the Werchef was snoring, LOUDLY.
"What!" Prince Levuel shouted, "don't you realise the severity of the situation you are-"
"JA' MAKIN' ME BORD!" He interrupted.
"What!" Prince Levuel demanded
"JA' MAKIN' ME ANGRE!"
Then, after much thought, he added, "Ja' makin' me 'ungre." And started looking around for something to eat.
"That's it!" Prince Levuel shouted.
He turned to his trusted friend Gustev, and pointed a finger at the Troll, shouting, "Kill that abomination."
"Yes m'lord," Gustev said, before he lowered his visor.
He then lifted his lance in the air, and said, "Knight of Kealmar, Charge!"
In moments, a hundred knights were galloping full tilt at the Troll, a little overkill, but necessary for the insolence this Troll had shown. The Troll, had noticed this, and was staring at them, much as a simpleton would a torch.
"So," a voice behind the Troll said, "You, gonna dance boy? Make those knights your rag time toys? Take their steel, bend their will, go in for the one-two kill?"
The Troll smiled, "Wat do ya fink, Gate git!"
When the knights were about two yards away, the Troll launched himself at them, with an insane grin on his face and profanity not fit for Hellspout, which caused even the older among the knights to gape in horror. To call what he did to those knights anything less than a complete massacre, would be an insult. By the time the he was finished, he was surrounded in a quagmire of blood and guts, and was already turned towards the Prince.
"YER MINE YA PANZE GIT ZOGGIN' SQUISHE FONDLA'!" He laughed.
Prince Levuel took several hurried steps back, pointing a trembling finger at the Troll, shouting, "Shoot it! Shoot the bloody monster!"
A thousand arrows flew across the sky, all pointed at the monster. Rather than run, as even the thickest of Cyclopses would have done, he simply starred at the arrows giggling to himself. He then took in a large breath, and bellowed:
"HAX!"
The arrows landed, but all of them were in several pieces now, and simply fell as a light hail. Before they had time to fire again, the Troll was already among them, with has axe swirling in gory arcs while his profanity grew to a point at which even the most sinful among them thought he was going to far. In no time at all, the Troll had hacked his way through all the humans between him and Prince Levuel. Rather than run, Levuel decided that he had had enough of the Troll's antics and had drawn his sword, shouting:
"I am Prince Delpeha Levuel, now feel the wrath of my blade!"
He never felt his sword arm leave his body, as the Troll didn't let him live that long. Prince Levuel had been thrown on his back. The last thing he heard and saw was the Troll.
"I IZ TROLZOR!" he laughed, "NOW FEAL MI AZZ!"
And with that, Trolzor dropped all his weight on the Prince's head.
"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He belched.
The other occupants let out a wild cheer, hoisting up their weapons and food. Some of them even had the manners to clean up using one of those "Panze fingz" on the wall. Others, in attempting to make some fun, used some of those "Stadnin' ston fingz" to sharpen (or dull) their drunken hacking skills. Even more of them were hacking up the furniture in the room, in an attempt to make a bigger fire, while others were stamping there feet (or skulls) loudly to the melodious tones of da Def Leaperz. Through the midst of all this, human slaves and Haflan servants darted around serving all kinds of drinks and, often painful, entertainment.
One such luckless Haflan was currently serving the Troll in the throne.
"Yer drink, sur," he squeled.
The Troll looked at the Haflen in disgusted shock.
"I dedn't ordur no drink!" He shouted.
The Haflen privately shook his head, "Ya order'd a Rad rum, sur."
"No I- ohh, lookatdat. W'O AR YA?"
"I brought yer rad rum, sur," The Haflen said.
"Wat took ya, ya Panze eatin' squish zogger!"
With that, the Troll had taken the drink, and was about to drink it, when he started eyeing it.
"'ow don't I no dat ya dedn't poezen dis!" He shouted. "Ya dink it furst!"
So the Haflen did take a sip from it, and was just about to say how tasty it was, when he realised he was headed for a new course in life: namely, the stairs.
"WHY DA ZOGG, DID YA ZOGGIN' DRINK ME RAD RUM!" He bellowed, which roused much laughter from the assembled Trolls.
He then noticed another Troll rushing up the stairs, without even so much as a chuckle at the Haflen he had passed.
"Wat da zogg do ya want ya panze!" He shouted.
It took a few seconds of incomprehensible gibberish before he finally said, "WE GOT NEW NABERZ!"
The Werchef gasped, "Did dey bring pie!"
"No," he said, "deyz broat lotz an' lotz o' sharp pointa metal fingz wi-"
"'OW DARE DEY NOT BRING ME- ohhhhhhhhhh pert-PIE!" The Werchef shouted.
He then stood up on the throne, cupped his hands over his mouth, and bellowed, "HAXOR!"
In a moment, a 'atet as large as most people came flying through the air and into its owners arms. And chest. And his body as a whole. In fact, he flew back into the throne and left a large imprint on the wall behind it. Rather than die, as any normal human ,or Troll for that matter, would have done, he simply stood up and screamed:
"FLAM WER!"
He continued screaming as he raced across the hall and out through the door. He only realized that he had gone through a window AFTER he had landed. Luckily, he had managed to land on a filled in section of moat, and as such, his fall was broken up by sharp rocks and bits of bone and metal. The Werchef stood up, brushed himself off, and pointed at the one guy in the large mob of ohmans who was wearing the most gold.
"Why'd ya trip me!" He demanded.
At first, the ohman was to stunned to do anything (most people don't survive an eighty foot drop onto rocks), but, the fact that he had said that he was being blamed for that, snapped him out of his shock.
"You vile pig," he said, "I would never shove anyone out of a window, even a-"
"'ho da Zog are ya, ya Panze!" the Troll interrupted, gathering some laughter from his Trolls on the walls (who also shared in the humans shock).
The man was so angry at being interrupted and insulted by a Troll, that he said, "I am Prince Delpeha Levuel, the true owner of this castle, to which you and your brutish companions have defiled. I bring with me an army of ten thousand of Vissaria's finest warriors and also a hundred of our finest preachers, so that we may destroy you in the Holy name of our Lord god Beati-"
It was then that he, and everyone else, became aware that the Werchef was snoring, LOUDLY.
"What!" Prince Levuel shouted, "don't you realise the severity of the situation you are-"
"JA' MAKIN' ME BORD!" He interrupted.
"What!" Prince Levuel demanded
"JA' MAKIN' ME ANGRE!"
Then, after much thought, he added, "Ja' makin' me 'ungre." And started looking around for something to eat.
"That's it!" Prince Levuel shouted.
He turned to his trusted friend Gustev, and pointed a finger at the Troll, shouting, "Kill that abomination."
"Yes m'lord," Gustev said, before he lowered his visor.
He then lifted his lance in the air, and said, "Knight of Kealmar, Charge!"
In moments, a hundred knights were galloping full tilt at the Troll, a little overkill, but necessary for the insolence this Troll had shown. The Troll, had noticed this, and was staring at them, much as a simpleton would a torch.
"So," a voice behind the Troll said, "You, gonna dance boy? Make those knights your rag time toys? Take their steel, bend their will, go in for the one-two kill?"
The Troll smiled, "Wat do ya fink, Gate git!"
When the knights were about two yards away, the Troll launched himself at them, with an insane grin on his face and profanity not fit for Hellspout, which caused even the older among the knights to gape in horror. To call what he did to those knights anything less than a complete massacre, would be an insult. By the time the he was finished, he was surrounded in a quagmire of blood and guts, and was already turned towards the Prince.
"YER MINE YA PANZE GIT ZOGGIN' SQUISHE FONDLA'!" He laughed.
Prince Levuel took several hurried steps back, pointing a trembling finger at the Troll, shouting, "Shoot it! Shoot the bloody monster!"
A thousand arrows flew across the sky, all pointed at the monster. Rather than run, as even the thickest of Cyclopses would have done, he simply starred at the arrows giggling to himself. He then took in a large breath, and bellowed:
"HAX!"
The arrows landed, but all of them were in several pieces now, and simply fell as a light hail. Before they had time to fire again, the Troll was already among them, with has axe swirling in gory arcs while his profanity grew to a point at which even the most sinful among them thought he was going to far. In no time at all, the Troll had hacked his way through all the humans between him and Prince Levuel. Rather than run, Levuel decided that he had had enough of the Troll's antics and had drawn his sword, shouting:
"I am Prince Delpeha Levuel, now feel the wrath of my blade!"
He never felt his sword arm leave his body, as the Troll didn't let him live that long. Prince Levuel had been thrown on his back. The last thing he heard and saw was the Troll.
"I IZ TROLZOR!" he laughed, "NOW FEAL MI AZZ!"
And with that, Trolzor dropped all his weight on the Prince's head.
Friday, October 5, 2012
General Proclomations: Relenfeast 2012
While this announcement is two days late, it is still important. In honor of the Dominion's holiday of Relenfeast we will have several two very special events, and also somethings for you to see.
What is Relenfeast?
Battle Report contest.
Throughout the month of October, we will have a competition for the best battle report. A battle report can be sent either through posting it as a comment on this link, or posting it on the Facebook group wall. Alternatively, you may have noticed the new tab near the top of the page. While it is still experimental, we do have a forum up, so that you can discuss things related to Fields of War, and all of gaming. At the end of October, we will have a poll, and the person who submitted the Battle reports with the most votes, can create a special character for the army of his/her choice. Any battle report submitted, will be posted on the blog.
Story contest.
Throughout the month of October, we will have a competition for the best original story. A sent can be sent either through posting it as a comment on this link, or posting it on the Facebook group wall. Alternatively, you may have noticed the new tab near the top of the page. While it is still experimental, we do have a forum up, so that you can discuss things related to Fields of War, and all of gaming. At the end of October, we will have a poll, and the person who submitted the story with the most votes, can create a special character for the army of his/her choice. Any story submitted, will be posted on the blog.
Concept art.
While it is very rough (and not all that much to look at) we will periodically post up some of the concept arts for the top armies throughout October.
What is Relenfeast?
Battle Report contest.
Throughout the month of October, we will have a competition for the best battle report. A battle report can be sent either through posting it as a comment on this link, or posting it on the Facebook group wall. Alternatively, you may have noticed the new tab near the top of the page. While it is still experimental, we do have a forum up, so that you can discuss things related to Fields of War, and all of gaming. At the end of October, we will have a poll, and the person who submitted the Battle reports with the most votes, can create a special character for the army of his/her choice. Any battle report submitted, will be posted on the blog.
Story contest.
Throughout the month of October, we will have a competition for the best original story. A sent can be sent either through posting it as a comment on this link, or posting it on the Facebook group wall. Alternatively, you may have noticed the new tab near the top of the page. While it is still experimental, we do have a forum up, so that you can discuss things related to Fields of War, and all of gaming. At the end of October, we will have a poll, and the person who submitted the story with the most votes, can create a special character for the army of his/her choice. Any story submitted, will be posted on the blog.
Concept art.
While it is very rough (and not all that much to look at) we will periodically post up some of the concept arts for the top armies throughout October.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Echoes of War
"Naval tactics is a symphony of many different and elegantly carved elements coming together in a crescendo of success."
-Demion Gezeal, High-Admiral of the Dominion
"To Limbo with engine tolerance's, RAM THE SHIP!"
-Captain Oineir Helibar's "last order"
"Thalássio , mas kathodi̱geí pros ti̱ níki̱!" (Thalássio, guide us to victory!)
-common writings on Stygian ships
"Elves of Galmanear, before you stands the strait of Heij, the gate way to our realm. Just beyond that gate, lies a fleet of vile goblins ships, many of which would not be sea worthy if they had not stolen them from us in the first place. Tell me, can we allow such an injustice to be seated so close to us? Nay I say; Nay a thousand times over! So long as we breath, we must never allow them to mock us in such away. We must destroy them, for the honor of your families, for the honor of Galmanear, and for your own honor! Attack!"
-Prince Felimen Galea
"Me father was a bastard born at sea,
me mother was a bar maid, servin' week old mead,
they came to together fur a good time,
and left me there with only a lime.
I grew up on the streets, a proper urchin was I,
once even robbed the dry docks, did I,
till, one day I heard a crier crying a most glorious cry,
that i'll never forget till the day I die:
'Hey there lad, sick and tired of your life?
Wish you had some place to sharpen that knife?
Come to Hellspout an' you'll see,
how grand tis a life at sea.'"
-The opening part of a sea sailor's shanty, a popular ballad in Hellspout
"...watz 'tacktikz'?"
-Trol werlad Fermuncha, after defeating HighAdmiral Demion Gezeal
-Demion Gezeal, High-Admiral of the Dominion
"To Limbo with engine tolerance's, RAM THE SHIP!"
-Captain Oineir Helibar's "last order"
"Thalássio , mas kathodi̱geí pros ti̱ níki̱!" (Thalássio, guide us to victory!)
-common writings on Stygian ships
"Elves of Galmanear, before you stands the strait of Heij, the gate way to our realm. Just beyond that gate, lies a fleet of vile goblins ships, many of which would not be sea worthy if they had not stolen them from us in the first place. Tell me, can we allow such an injustice to be seated so close to us? Nay I say; Nay a thousand times over! So long as we breath, we must never allow them to mock us in such away. We must destroy them, for the honor of your families, for the honor of Galmanear, and for your own honor! Attack!"
-Prince Felimen Galea
"Me father was a bastard born at sea,
me mother was a bar maid, servin' week old mead,
they came to together fur a good time,
and left me there with only a lime.
I grew up on the streets, a proper urchin was I,
once even robbed the dry docks, did I,
till, one day I heard a crier crying a most glorious cry,
that i'll never forget till the day I die:
'Hey there lad, sick and tired of your life?
Wish you had some place to sharpen that knife?
Come to Hellspout an' you'll see,
how grand tis a life at sea.'"
-The opening part of a sea sailor's shanty, a popular ballad in Hellspout
"...watz 'tacktikz'?"
-Trol werlad Fermuncha, after defeating HighAdmiral Demion Gezeal
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Legends of War:Forward, March!
"Left! Left! Left, Right, Left!" The drums barked.
OiHeinmen marched in perfect unison with the drums orders, as did all 200 of the other men of the 297th Veilmeer conscript legion, A platoon. Each footfall sounded like the ground was shaking, loud enough to mute the sound of artillery, and as fearsome as a bull. The flag even furled in time with the rhythm, each proud wave denoting this unit as property of Garmaria. These were the sons of Garmaria about to set out on their right of manhood: first battle.
Around him, other platoons from the 297th conscript legion marched forward, but had to give the lead to the greatest platoon of them all. Behind him, a battery of artillery sung their hearts out, lobbing righteous death upon the foes of their fore fathers. Ahead of them, a company of fusileers was poring volley after volley into the enemies. OiHeinmen was a little mad that he couldn't see the enemy, but was content with the situation as it was. After all, they would soon be slashing their foes to-
"Platoon, Halt!" Ordered the drums.
The platoon obliged, but with a noticeable air of confusion. They were a mere forty yards away from the fusileer's company, and it became apparent that all of the legion had stopped. OiHeinmen felt confused: wasn't their duty to stop the enemy at all costs? Why aren't they deployed ahead of the fusileers, where they can use their swords? Looking at the sword resting on his shoulder, OiHeinmen noticed something else odd: a fusileer regiment was digging in behind them.
No one had time to ponder the implications of this, for it quickly became apparent that the fusileers in front of them had given up on volley firing. The regular rhythm they had come to expect was now nothing more then men firing whenever they pleased. OiHeinmen was on the verge of going over there and teaching them a lesson when he started to hear screaming. It was faint at first, but it tripled in intensity every second, and was overlapped with bellows of increasing rage, strong enough to shatter mountains and to freeze the blood of a mountain. Then the 297th conscript legion saw their first Troll.
That is not to say they hadn't seen Trolls before, it was just always as woodcuts in the Garmarian Review or The Daily Codex, or as pictures at magik lantern or picture reel show. The real Troll was much more terrifying: standing at seven feet tall, gripping an axe the size of a horse leg, with three yellowing tusks (one of which went down in the middle and was splattered with red at the end), pointed ears as sharp as knives, and blue skin popping with veins and muscles. It was clad in old leather, covered with rusting scraps of metal, and a helmet that used to be a human. But, they didn't immediately notice all of these qualities. The first thing they noticed was that he had decapitated a man in a single swing.
A ripple of fear traveled through OiHeinmen, and the platoon as a whole. Some of the men from one of the other platoons even threw down their weapons, and began to run away. Somebody shouted something OiHeinmen couldn't understand, and the fusileers behind the retreating platoon opened fire. Needless to say, they set a very good example. Still, OiHeinmen considered running when-
"Raise, Shields!" The drums demanded.
Following his breeding, OiHeinmen raised his shield from his left side. Because he had no other orders, he looked forward and saw about a hundred more Trolls hacking through the fusileers with the same ease as the first. They were still putting up a fight, but even their guns wouldn't block a Trolls attack, being dispatched with the same ease as its owner. A few of the men even had shields like the one OiHeinmen had, but these proved to be as effective as blocking with the bare arm, and one man's arm was even jarred from its socket on impact. OiHeinmen winced as the man, clutching his useless arm, was silenced by the same Troll, who's laughter mocked him.
OiHeinmen was now furious. That man had died for Garmaria, and all that Troll could do was laugh? What right did these creatures have to mock the sons of Garmaria, who were the rightful masters of this world? What right did these creatures have to live? NONE!
"Ready, Arms!" Sounded the drums.
By now the feeling of fury had spread to the platoon as a whole. How dare they mock Garmaria! They all took their swords from the resting place on their shoulders and went from cupping the hilt to squeezing it. They knew what their duty was, and they knew what they had to do. But they were still those who were scared.
Then someone began singing a child-rhyme. They all knew it by heart, and, despite the imaturity of it all, they all sang:
Oh my mother, cry not for me.
Oh my father, cry not for me.
I go to war for the sake of you, mother.
I go to war for the sake of you, father.
I go to war for the sake of everyone.
If I die on the fields of war, cry not for me mother.
If I die on the fields of war, cry not for me father.
For I died for your sake, mother.
For I died for your sake, father.
For I died for the sake of everyone.
Everyone sang this, except OiHeinmen. He sung a sung only he and his father had known:
One more time to the maw of Limbo,
One more time to the heart of the storm.
One more time to the heat of battle,
for this is the last great battle I shall known.
And then the drums gave the last order OiHeinmen would ever know:
"Forward, March!"
OiHeinmen marched in perfect unison with the drums orders, as did all 200 of the other men of the 297th Veilmeer conscript legion, A platoon. Each footfall sounded like the ground was shaking, loud enough to mute the sound of artillery, and as fearsome as a bull. The flag even furled in time with the rhythm, each proud wave denoting this unit as property of Garmaria. These were the sons of Garmaria about to set out on their right of manhood: first battle.
Around him, other platoons from the 297th conscript legion marched forward, but had to give the lead to the greatest platoon of them all. Behind him, a battery of artillery sung their hearts out, lobbing righteous death upon the foes of their fore fathers. Ahead of them, a company of fusileers was poring volley after volley into the enemies. OiHeinmen was a little mad that he couldn't see the enemy, but was content with the situation as it was. After all, they would soon be slashing their foes to-
"Platoon, Halt!" Ordered the drums.
The platoon obliged, but with a noticeable air of confusion. They were a mere forty yards away from the fusileer's company, and it became apparent that all of the legion had stopped. OiHeinmen felt confused: wasn't their duty to stop the enemy at all costs? Why aren't they deployed ahead of the fusileers, where they can use their swords? Looking at the sword resting on his shoulder, OiHeinmen noticed something else odd: a fusileer regiment was digging in behind them.
No one had time to ponder the implications of this, for it quickly became apparent that the fusileers in front of them had given up on volley firing. The regular rhythm they had come to expect was now nothing more then men firing whenever they pleased. OiHeinmen was on the verge of going over there and teaching them a lesson when he started to hear screaming. It was faint at first, but it tripled in intensity every second, and was overlapped with bellows of increasing rage, strong enough to shatter mountains and to freeze the blood of a mountain. Then the 297th conscript legion saw their first Troll.
That is not to say they hadn't seen Trolls before, it was just always as woodcuts in the Garmarian Review or The Daily Codex, or as pictures at magik lantern or picture reel show. The real Troll was much more terrifying: standing at seven feet tall, gripping an axe the size of a horse leg, with three yellowing tusks (one of which went down in the middle and was splattered with red at the end), pointed ears as sharp as knives, and blue skin popping with veins and muscles. It was clad in old leather, covered with rusting scraps of metal, and a helmet that used to be a human. But, they didn't immediately notice all of these qualities. The first thing they noticed was that he had decapitated a man in a single swing.
A ripple of fear traveled through OiHeinmen, and the platoon as a whole. Some of the men from one of the other platoons even threw down their weapons, and began to run away. Somebody shouted something OiHeinmen couldn't understand, and the fusileers behind the retreating platoon opened fire. Needless to say, they set a very good example. Still, OiHeinmen considered running when-
"Raise, Shields!" The drums demanded.
Following his breeding, OiHeinmen raised his shield from his left side. Because he had no other orders, he looked forward and saw about a hundred more Trolls hacking through the fusileers with the same ease as the first. They were still putting up a fight, but even their guns wouldn't block a Trolls attack, being dispatched with the same ease as its owner. A few of the men even had shields like the one OiHeinmen had, but these proved to be as effective as blocking with the bare arm, and one man's arm was even jarred from its socket on impact. OiHeinmen winced as the man, clutching his useless arm, was silenced by the same Troll, who's laughter mocked him.
OiHeinmen was now furious. That man had died for Garmaria, and all that Troll could do was laugh? What right did these creatures have to mock the sons of Garmaria, who were the rightful masters of this world? What right did these creatures have to live? NONE!
"Ready, Arms!" Sounded the drums.
By now the feeling of fury had spread to the platoon as a whole. How dare they mock Garmaria! They all took their swords from the resting place on their shoulders and went from cupping the hilt to squeezing it. They knew what their duty was, and they knew what they had to do. But they were still those who were scared.
Then someone began singing a child-rhyme. They all knew it by heart, and, despite the imaturity of it all, they all sang:
Oh my mother, cry not for me.
Oh my father, cry not for me.
I go to war for the sake of you, mother.
I go to war for the sake of you, father.
I go to war for the sake of everyone.
If I die on the fields of war, cry not for me mother.
If I die on the fields of war, cry not for me father.
For I died for your sake, mother.
For I died for your sake, father.
For I died for the sake of everyone.
Everyone sang this, except OiHeinmen. He sung a sung only he and his father had known:
One more time to the maw of Limbo,
One more time to the heart of the storm.
One more time to the heat of battle,
for this is the last great battle I shall known.
And then the drums gave the last order OiHeinmen would ever know:
"Forward, March!"
Monday, September 10, 2012
General Proclomations:Ist wave Army lists
We have the army lists for the first wave armies' boxed sets made up.
Dwarfs
Dwarf Lord 75pts
heavy armor 5pts
axe 5pts
shield 5pts
total 90pts
Dwarf Bard 50pts
2xBombards 125pts
3xstonedwarfs240pts
Dwarfwarriors100pts
banner 10pts
war horn 5pts
champion 5pts
axes 20pts
shields 20pts
heavy armor 20pts
total 180pts
Dwarfwarriors100pts
banner 10pts
war horn 5pts
champion 5pts
halberds 40pts
heavy armor 20pts
total 180pts
Dragoons 110pts
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
total 120pts
total 985pts
Dwarf Lord 75pts
heavy armor 5pts
axe 5pts
shield 5pts
total 90pts
Dwarf Bard 50pts
2xBombards 125pts
3xstonedwarfs240pts
Dwarfwarriors100pts
banner 10pts
war horn 5pts
champion 5pts
axes 20pts
shields 20pts
heavy armor 20pts
total 180pts
Dwarfwarriors100pts
banner 10pts
war horn 5pts
champion 5pts
halberds 40pts
heavy armor 20pts
total 180pts
Dragoons 110pts
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
total 120pts
total 985pts
Elves
Elf noble 80pts
shield 5pts
mace 5pts
dragon 35pts
shining armor 10pts
total 130pts
Elf captain 65pts
army banner 25pts
total 90pts
2xsages 210pts (one commoner, one noble)
elf warriors 120pts (commoner)
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
spears 15pts
total 155pts
elf warriors 120pts (nobles)
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
elven armor 30pts
shields 15pts
maces 15pts
total 200pts
Elf bowmen 150pts
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
elven armor 30pts
elven bows 15pts
total 215pts
total 990pts
Elf noble 80pts
shield 5pts
mace 5pts
dragon 35pts
shining armor 10pts
total 130pts
Elf captain 65pts
army banner 25pts
total 90pts
2xsages 210pts (one commoner, one noble)
elf warriors 120pts (commoner)
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
spears 15pts
total 155pts
elf warriors 120pts (nobles)
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
elven armor 30pts
shields 15pts
maces 15pts
total 200pts
Elf bowmen 150pts
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
elven armor 30pts
elven bows 15pts
total 215pts
total 990pts
Scarecrows
Leader 90pts
zap cannon 10pts
total 115pts
2xreapers 120pts
2xbarrelroller320pts
2xprotectors 300pts
slaves 80pts
prods 80pts
total 160pts
total 1000pts
Leader 90pts
zap cannon 10pts
total 115pts
2xreapers 120pts
2xbarrelroller320pts
2xprotectors 300pts
slaves 80pts
prods 80pts
total 160pts
total 1000pts
Stygian Army(by Nikola Dabic):
-Strategos (Warhorse, Spear, Shield, Army Banner) - 145pts
-Perioikoi (Shields, Warhorn, Banner, Champion) - 140pts
-Hoplites (Warhorn, Banner, Champion) - 160pts ×2
-Toxotes (Longbows, Warhorn, Banner, Champion) - 140pts
-Hippikon (Warhorn, Banner, Aspis, Light Armor, Spears, Champion) - 200pts
-Petrobolos (no ugprades) - 50pts
Overall, an army of exactly 995pts
Any comments or questions would be appreciated, and these lists still might change in the near future.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Art of War: Map of the Convict Islands
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