Today saw the most recent clash between the Aeloran Nomads and my Suneater Tribe Ogors, the first in our narrative series to shape the factions place within the Realms. We decided to use the Open War card in order to generate a decent narrative for the battle beyond the normal objective based clash, it was our first time using the card and the variation in deployment made for an interesting start. The Suneaters tribe came straight down the middle of the field, a roiling unrelenting steamroller of muscle and flame, meanwhile the Nomads scattered to the edges of the field, emerging from two of the nearby forests in a pincer move to surround and envelop the slower and more cumbersome foe. Generating the Torrential Rain card was a nice touch, adding a real sense of atmosphere to the battle whilst our objective was to each take out the opponents messenger (for us these were the people carrying warning back to the rest of their faction of the oncoming war).

TACTICAL OVERLAY

As this was the first time in testing out many of the Aelven units I played soft with the Ogors, rather than deleting units I knew to be potent I wanted to see how potent each of the units were, however this couldnt always be the case (closest target, blocking my way etc). Poor deployment made the gladeshards easy prey to even the weaker flying hero of my force, they were initially too far out of range to hit and with a 16 inch move the carrion drake moved from outside their shooting range to in combat with them in a single turn so they didnt hold up too well.

The Longstriders survived an onslaught of Bal Kasta, Aldin Draken, Grots and catapults, very resilient and putting out a few wounds of their own in return but the Pyre ability (-1 to hit for shooting) and the rain (-1 to hit for shooting) really didnt help the Aelves in this encounter, often making even their normal infantry hit on 6's at range which is just unplesant to far. It also stunted both the Bal Kasta and Aldin Draken shooting however, the former I forgot to use most of their abilities and the latter did reasonably but would be better utilised against a force with more monsters in it.

The Apex predator rule on the Wyld Runner chariot was fantastic, holding my general in place whilst both the chariot and griffon savaged him and brought him down was a great victory for Charlotte at this point in the battle (I had been systematically deleting units, the centaurs got stood on by the volcanic idol). The battle really went on for about 6 turns, even then both our messengers were on full health (my grot hid in a cave, he's a grot) as time wasnt on our side and the battle was balanced we diced off and Charlotte came away with a well fought win. Narratively as more aelves had died the Ogors dominated the village and took the land but the Aelves filled their mission of getting a messenger through the Suneaters lines to rouse the rest of the Hunt to this new threat.

STORY

The Aeloran scout crouched low in the lashing rain, her boots sinking into the deluge of mud beneath her and the once life Aelven cloak that shielded her form now sodden with rain hung heavily on her back. Her party had been ordered to take up position in a small copse of trees at the edge of what must have once been a man-kin village, from here she saw her first glimpse of the devastation wrought upon the world when her kind had abandoned it to the tide of chaos. Once mighty stone structures had been shattered as though by the hands of gods themselves, mighty carved pathways through the village now broken and shoddy reclaimed once more by the wilderness, there were no signs of the populace of this once burgeoning settlement, no laughter of children, no ringing of the dinner bells… it lay hollow and empty much like the Aeloran themselves.

Though it must have been nearing midday the heavy clouds had long since drowned out any memory of the sun, darkness swarmed across the battlefield and visibility was rapidly becoming an insurmountable challenge. Yet even through this wall of rain she could see the flickering lights of their quarry, hundreds of torches somehow enduring the outpour as though fuelled by some arcane means, the very rain tasted of the smoke and ash their foe sent out into the wilds. More worrisome was the thunderous footfalls of the beasts that formed their preys procession, at the head of their column lumbered some monolithic creature, the glowing embers of its mask making its haunting visage visible leering in the darkness, with every slam of its heavy feet the trees itself seems to wince and lean away from its advance.

As the last of the enemy procession cleared the treeline, the low drone of a hunting horn spurred the young Huntress from her thoughts, all distraction fading from her mind she felt the doe-kin spirit that shared her form spark into life. The energy of her blended soul coursed and rippled through her form, every muscle twitching with renewed vigour, leaping out of her crouched position her fingers curled tightly around the ironbark bow as her party joined the hunt. Silent save for the last reverberations of the horn still resonating through the treeline the Aelves advanced rapidly, leaping deftly over broken branches and ruin alike, the nearer the came to the enemy force the more they could hear the shrieking riotous laughter of the madness tinted grots still hidden from view, screeching in their primitive tongue to whatever gods they had sworn allegiance to. Notching an arrow, the Hunter took up her position amongst dozens of other archers, even Aelven eyes straining to pick out their quarry through the rain.

As the enemy advance came into view she could feel the ripple of shock resonate through those around her, each doing their best to mask it, but a discernible wince seemed to flood through the battle line. Standing well over twenty aelves in height came the enemy leader, a giant hewn of stone, its every coursing vein glowing with volcanic heat, a savage mask offering only a leering grin of distain to all that lay beneath it. Every step it took seemingly scorching the very earth upon which it stood, on its shoulder stood the screeching maddening grotkin they had heard on their advance, large and bloated for its kind she could not help but feel disgusted at its very form. With this massive monstrosity came lumbering Ogor cavalry, massive even for their kin and clad is heavy beaten iron armour, sat atop fat wingless drakes whose scales glimmered and rippled in the glow of their volcanic master. Behind them came crude metal contraptions, lumbering and creaking with every step mounting crude weapons beneath each arm, what foul monstrosities they were she could not tell but only hope it was not first hand that she would find out.

With every moment yet more horrors came into focus, poorly constructed wooden frames carrying massive rock totems to their god, siege engines carrying burning pay loads, dozens more Ogors and hundreds of screeching Grots… yet it was of little consequence. The hunting horn sounded once more, as one the archers rose from their positions and loosed their arrows, wood slick from rain what would have once been a seamless barrage rapidly descended into madness yet enough seemed to find their mark, Ironbark tips piercing even the rock hide of the monstrous creature at the head of the Ogor column. No cheer went up yet there was a sense of smug satisfaction as the Volcanic entity reeled backwards, short lived however was any joy the Aelves derives at its low rumbling laughter shook the very trees around them, followed shortly by the same lumbering footfall as before, they had done little more than amuse it.

As the rain broke momentarily the Huntress could spy the second pincer of the hunt closing on the enemy across the shattered remains of the village, dozens of stags leaping over low walls as their riders filled the sky with a torrent of arrows instead. The satisfying screech of impales grots punctuated every loosed arrow, Kurnoth hunters from the realm of the forest loosed massive spear like arrows of their own, yet even their mighty blows seemed to do little to the monster at the head of the column. Through the midst of the Ogor ranks she could spy crude bonfires being rapidly assembled by the enemy priests, every bonfire lit beginning to fill the clearing with a heavy smoke that threatened to choke the air around them. Even without the rain this smoke made it hard to place arrow to their quarry, wiping the sweat from her ash stained face the huntress paused for a moment. A sound resonated through her acute hearing even over the clamour of the battle, the strain of wood… a low growl, too late she realised the source of her distraction as the agonising sensation of a crude bolt ripped through her shoulder, the very strength of the shot carrying her forwards as the bolt embedded in a broken wall in front of her. The impact slammed her head to stone, coursing agony flowing through her every thought, blood beginning to blur her vision as she glanced backwards to her attacker. A second party of the giant lizard riding Ogors had approached from their rear… had they been the ones being hunted? Such delirious thoughts had little time to take root however as consciousness began to flee her beleaguered mind and darkness resumed.

Flickers of consciousness… merest glimpses of the battle found their way to the Aelfs mind, she could only watch helpless as her sisters valiantly tried to fight off the lizard riding hunters to no avail, soundlessly whimper as the bloated beasts feasted on their entrails. She could utter no warning as the heavy metal clad Ogors with their crude weaponry seemingly walked from the mighty pyres their priests had erected, belching gouts of molten metal that turned the once peerless gryph chargers of the nobles into screeching piles of singed flesh and molten slag.

She saw, with at least some satisfaction, her noble king fighting the volcanic beast that led the enemy assault, as his great chariot impaled the beast in a fearless head-on charge, a noble griffon descended on the stone-beasts back, the pair clashing and ripping the beast apart stone by stone even against the screeching protest of its Grot passenger. She saw too the hammer blow that shattered her kings chariot… though held out hope he had survived the assault to hunt once more, the spear like bolt that laid low the griffon even over the smouldering wreckage of the volcanic idol.

Great Wyldshard brambles had begun to flood the battlefield, every drop of noble blood that touched this accursed dirt sunk deep into the rain sodden mud. Wickedly sharp brambles erupted forth, they moved with carnivorous intent as they coursed and flowed across the battlefield, a living wall of vine and thorn that sought to stunt the Ogors advance.

As consciousness fled once more her final vision was of the fleeting form of the Wyldmare racing past her, a smile filling her blood-stained lips. The messenger had broken through the Ogor lines, help was coming.