And welcome to another report from the Firestorm II campaign. The forces of Hammerhal and Anvilgard met once more to do battle, this time deep in the Vitriolic Swamps, which gave us a prime opportunity to play with a plethora of special rules and shenaningans!
Second, the Twist of the scenario was Storm of Magic: all wizards get +1 to cast and to unbind, but any doubles rolles during castig will inflict 1 mortal wound to the caster, which is upped to D3 mortal wounds if you roll double 1s!
Third, the Vitriolic Swamps location special rule gave both players a single marker which they could place anywhere within their own deployment zone: for the duration of the game, the area within 7" of either marker was considered Deadly!
One more note: as my Hammerhalian army came to around 1360 points, whereas my opponent had only 960 points, we agreed that he'd draw a Ruse card from the Open War deck to help his outnumbered Anvilgardian a bit. He drew Inspiring Speech, which made his army immune to battleshock as long as his general lived. A heroic last stand indeed!
On to the game, then!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yriel Dawnspur cast his witch-sight to the skies, studying the flows of the aethyric energies in the cloudless sky. Being a Grandmage of the Eldritch Council of the Order of the Moonserpent in Hammerhal, he was angered beyond belief that the foe could avoid his scrying gaze for so long. Ever since his uncle, Lord Aenarel Dawnspur, had defeated the Seraphon at the Eyes of the Prismatikon three days past, Yriel had hunted the shattered forces of Rinos Wildbringer.
He had been leading a contingent of reinforcements from the coast to bolster the diminished legions of his uncle when he found out that Lord Aenarel had been wounded in the fighting at the Prismatikon, bidding Yriel to go and hunt down Lord Rinos in his stead. Without further discussion Yriel had rounded up his fresh troops and a coven of his fellow mages, setting out towards the Vitriolic Swamps in the north where Lord Rinos's tattered army had been last seen.
Now he was trudging knee-deep through mud and bubbling slime in the middle of the cursed marshlands, with no sign of his enemy whatsoever. Even his considerable magical talents did not manage to locate Lord Rinos through the mysteriously feral magical energies surrounding the swamp; he was sure there was some anti-magic trickery at work here. Pulling his softsole boots from the depths of the muddy marsh once again, wincing at the terribly disgusting sucking sound they made, Yriel pressed on with his weary followers.
Without delay Yriel ordered the formation of a battleline, as wide as terrain permitted. Looking to his left and right to make sure his fellow mages were in place, he gave the order to advance. The remnants of Lord Rinos's army were now trapped, outnumbered and with no chance to escape! Yriel was sure his uncle would be so proud over the defeat of his nemesis so as to grant him a loan large enough to set up his own arcane library back in the city...
Heralded by a volley of stormbolts and lightning javelins, the Palladors crashed into the Swordmasters' weakened ranks. Laying about them with handbows and short spears, the Stormcast reaped a terrible tally among the aelven elites, sending many down bleeding to join their pin-cushioned comrades on the bloodied ground.
Lord Rinos dived his black dragon down into the massed formation of levy Archers, hacking many screaming foes apart with his blade to add to the carnage wrought by his mount. The monster's claws ripped open bellies and tore away arms, its tail sending entire ranks at a time flying through the air like discarded dolls.
In mere moments, the Swordmasters had been reduced to half their original strength, while the Archers simply were no more, having been rendered into a pile of glassy gazes and stiff limbs.
Momentarily stunned by the brazen counter-attack of his outnumbered enemy, Grandmage Yriel gathered his wits once more. Raising his staff high and muttering the words of power, he fashioned a swarm of translucent dragonflies from the energies of the wind of Ghyran around him, sending it forth to envelop the Swordmasters ahead of him. As the glowing dragonflies flew amidst the aelves, gathering in great patches upon the heavily wounded that lay on the ground, wounds closed and flesh mended. In the blink of an eye three previously incapacitated Swordmasters rose from the ground with blades in hand, ready to fight again!
Snapping his fingers, Yriel enhanced his elites further by binding the eternal fire of Aqshy to the blades of the Swordmasters, making them blaze like giant torches. Nodding in approval to himself, Yriel then turned his attention to the his enemies, conjuring a fireball to be sent roaring into the chest of the black dragon. Unfortunately the wild energies coursing through the swamp messed with his final spell, scorching his hand badly and ruining his aim: the fiery bolt crashed into the back of the Swordmaster formation, immolting the very same trio of warriors he had just saved from the brink of death.
NOOOOOOO!
More spells flew out from the Hammerhal coven, but the ferocious and uncontrollable flow of magical energies caused a backlash for all three spellcasters, singing their physical forms with the mere presence of too much unbound aethyric force! Through gritted teeth Yriel managed to keep the fires on the Swordmasters' blades alight, while Archmage Tardien on the right flank managed to suck hydration out of the bodies of the approaching Anvilgard knights, slowing them down and allowing his accompanying Reavers to pepper them with arrows.
On the right flank a Anvilgard War Hydra and the dehydrated Drakespawn Knights charged through geysirs of poisonus swamp gases and volleys of white-shafted arrows to run down the squadron of Reavers that held the flank. Seeing his problematic location on the battlefield, Archmage Tardien tried desperately to flee in the direction of Yriel's command hill. Before that he hastily summoned a maniacally laughing burning skull and sent it barreling through the enemy knigths and hydra, felling one cavalryman and wounding the monster badly!
The Swordmasters hacked away at the black dragon in a spell-induced frenzy, the wild energies Yriel harnessed to enhance their weapons starting to seep into their minds as the battle went on. As the monstrous drake neared death it instinctively took to the air and flew off, carrying the protesting Lord Rinos upon its back.
On Yriel's command hill in the centre the Bolt Thrower was reloading after having harassed the distant dragon for very little effect, its bolts simply having bounced off the drake's scaly hide. Yriel himself was leaning on a gigantic cactus, the upkeep of his warriors' blazing blades having taxed him beyond measure. His robes were badly scorched and his arms had burned all the way up to the elbows. The family Bannerbearer, Niondel, and Archmage Sirinia still accompanied him, although weary and wounded as well.
With the Swordmasters only now realizing how far the battle had taken them from the lord they were sworn to protect, they set off back towards the hill. But it seemed the sneaky duardin from the ruins would reach the location first...
Weary beyond measure, Yriel judged the distance his elites would have to cover before they could stand in between him and the horde of duardin bearing down upon his position. They would not make it.
"By Asuryan, there's only one option left..." he muttered to himself, looking down at his burned hands which barely responded to his orders anymore. His uncle had told him of the power of the Eyes of the Prismatikon their forces now possessed. A single astral sign to communicate his location to the sentries manning the distant superweapon would call down a searing beam of destruction to annihilate his foes.
"All I have to do... is to cast the astral projection..." he gasped, forcing his burned fingers to move even through the searing pain it caused. He began uttering the words of the invocation, his fingers moving through the air only haltingly.
"Cadaith charoi, drannach domui istr—NGHH!"
His conjurations were cut short by a cavalryman's lance bursting through his thigh, followed by a drakespawn steed who bore him down into the ground with its weight.
Unfortunately the two remaining Drakespawn Knights had made it to the command hill just in time to stop him.
With the Swordmasters too far off to help their leaders, Grandmage Yriel and his coven had fallen. Only one Bolt Thrower crewman, Bannerbearer Niondel and a handful of Swordmasters remained of the brave army that had set off from the Prismartikon in pursuit of Lord Rinos Wildbringer's broken forces, determined to catch the enemy general before he could gather more support and rebuild his army. The fierce Anvilgard resistance had prevailed over superior numbers and magical prowess.
Led by Niondel, the remaining Hammerhalians made their retreat back into the murky swamp, carrying the unconscious body of Grandmage Yriel along with them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Victory for Anvilgard!
The game was fast, lively and entertaining. All my strategic analysis of the flow of the battle can be condensed into one sentence*: my Endless Spells and Realmsphere Magic Lores ended up causing more harm to me than my opponent.
Magic's nature is fickle, and it should not be blindly trusted...
*although to be fair, I also have to mention my poor choice of troops, my far too eager deployment and my opponent's excellent first-turn charge that robbed me of half my army's nasty comboes. Well played!
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti