Colchis - 831.M30
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert sands. A cool breeze swept through the camp, stirring the banners and sending chills through even the most seasoned warriors. Karga, one of the Grox cavalry leaders, sat atop his massive beast, looking out over the camp as it prepared to move out. His Grox, a towering creature with thick, leathery skin and powerful muscles, snorted and stomped the ground impatiently.
Karga patted the Grox's neck, soothing the beast. "Easy there, big fella," he murmured. "We'll get our chance soon enough."
Around him, the camp was alive with activity. Warriors checked their weapons and armor, making last-minute adjustments. Sorcerers gathered in small groups, whispering incantations and gesturing towards the sky, where storm clouds were beginning to gather. Sandbikers revved their engines, the roar of the machines filling the air. Ambuls, massive burrowing creatures, shifted restlessly in their pens.
Karga's second-in-command, a grizzled veteran named Jarek, rode up beside him. "Everything's ready, boss. Just waiting on the signal."
Karga nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Good. We need to be ready for anything. Remember, we hit hard and fast, then withdraw before they can counterattack."
Jarek grunted in agreement. "Aye, we'll be in and out before they know what hit them."
The Grox beneath Karga shifted its weight, sensing the tension in the air. Karga leaned forward, speaking softly to the beast. "Steady, boy. Steady. We've got a job to do."
In the distance, Karga could see Fan Morgal, their chieftain, moving through the camp, offering words of encouragement and making final preparations. Lorgar and Dharok were close by, deep in discussion with the other leaders. Karga couldn't hear their words, but he knew the plan: use the sorcerers to create a storm, then strike hard with the Grox cavalry, supported by the sandbikes and Ambuls.
The thought of the coming battle sent a thrill through Karga's veins. He had faced many enemies in his time, but the horde was unlike any other. Their twisted forms and dark magic made them formidable foes, but Karga had faith in their plan and in the strength of his warriors.
As the sun climbed higher, the camp began to quiet. Warriors mounted their Grox, sandbikers revved their engines one last time, and the Ambuls handlers readied their charges. Karga took a deep breath, feeling the familiar weight of his armor and the reassuring presence of his Grox beneath him.
A horn sounded, signaling the call to move out. Karga raised his spear, the sharp tip glinting in the morning light. "Cavalry, forward!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the camp.
The Grox riders formed up, their beasts snorting and stamping, eager for the coming fight. Karga led them towards the front of the column, where Fan Morgal and the other leaders were gathering. As they approached, Fan Morgal raised his weapon high, signaling the start of the march.
"Let's move out!" Fan Morgal shouted, his voice strong and clear.
With a roar, the army began to move. The Grox cavalry led the way, followed by the sandbikes and Ambuls. Karga felt a surge of pride as they marched out into the desert, the storm clouds gathering overhead. This was what they had trained for, what they had prepared for. Today, they would face the horde and show them the strength of their people.
As they left the walls of the settlement, Karga glanced back, seeing Thalissa and her group preparing to defend the camp. He knew they were in good hands. Thalissa would protect their home with everything she had.
As they moved, Karga kept a careful eye on the horizon. The desert stretched out before them, vast and unforgiving. He knew the enemy was out there, waiting. But they were ready. They had the power of the storms, the strength of their Grox, and the speed of their sandbikes. They had Fan Morgal leading them, and they had each other.
Karga kept his focus, his mind on the battle to come. He spoke softly to his Grox, keeping the beast calm and focused. Around him, his warriors did the same, their eyes forward, their minds on the task ahead.
Karga turned his gaze forward once more, his eyes scanning the horizon. The storm clouds were thicker now, dark and foreboding. The air was heavy with anticipation, the tension almost palpable.
They were ready. The time for preparation was over. Now, it was time to fight. Karga tightened his grip on his spear, his heart pounding in his chest. They would face the horde, and they would prevail.
As they moved, Fan Morgal rode up alongside Karga, his eyes serious but determined. "Stay sharp, Karga," he said. "This is just the beginning."
Karga nodded, his jaw set. "We'll be ready, chief. We'll show them what we're made of."
Fan Morgal gave him a firm nod, then rode off to check on the other groups. Karga took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. They were on the brink of battle, but they were ready.
With a final glance at his warriors, Karga raised his spear high. "For the tribe!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the desert.
The warriors around him echoed his cry, their voices strong and united. Together, they rode out to face the enemy, their spirits high, their hearts filled with determination. Today, they would fight. Today, they would show the horde the strength and courage of their people.
As you stand amidst the swirling sands, your sorcerous abilities tingling with the promise of the coming storm, you survey the camp's final preparations. The air is charged with anticipation, a palpable energy that mirrors the power thrumming within you. You adjust the straps of your robe, the fabric billowing around you, and feel the weight of your responsibilities as a sorcerer of the tribe.
The chieftain, Fan Morgal, moves among the warriors, offering words of encouragement and ensuring everyone is ready. You admire his leadership, his unwavering resolve in the face of adversity. He embodies the strength and unity of your people, a beacon of hope in these uncertain times.
Beside you, your fellow sorcerers murmur incantations, their voices blending with the howling wind. Together, you weave the threads of magic, preparing to unleash the storm upon your enemies. The sky above churns with dark clouds, a reflection of the turmoil within the Warp.
As the horn sounds, signaling the march to begin, you join the procession. Your steps are purposeful, guided by the knowledge that your magic will play a crucial role in the upcoming battle. You glance back at the settlement, where Thalissa and her group stand watch, ready to defend your home.
The desert stretches out before you, vast and unforgiving, but you feel no fear. Your faith in your abilities and in the strength of your tribe gives you courage. You raise your staff high, the arcane symbols etched into its surface glowing faintly.
"For the tribe," you whisper, the words carried away by the wind. And with that, you march onward, towards the looming storm and the chaos it will bring.
You adjust the straps of your armor, the metal plates clinking softly as you move. The weight of your weapon, a new gun and a sturdy axe, feels familiar in your grip. Around you, your fellow infantry members do the same, their faces set in grim determination. Today, you march to face the horde, and you are ready.
The camp is a hive of activity, with warriors checking their gear, sharpening their weapons, and offering silent prayers to the gods for protection. You join them, running a cloth over your axe blade, ensuring it is sharp and ready for battle. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the desert landscape.
As you fall into formation, you can't help but feel a sense of pride. You are part of something greater than yourself, part of a tribe that has faced adversity and triumphed. The chieftain, Fan Morgal, rides at the head of the column, his presence commanding respect and admiration.
Beside you, your comrades talk in hushed tones, discussing tactics and strategies for the battle ahead. You listen intently, eager to contribute to the plan. The sorcerers are preparing to unleash a storm upon the enemy, and you know that your role as infantry will be crucial in the coming fight.
The march begins, the sound of boots on sand echoing across the desert. You fall into step, your eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the enemy. The desert stretches out before you, vast and endless, but you are undaunted. You are a warrior of the tribe, and you will not falter.
As you march, your mind drifts to your home, the settlement that you have sworn to protect. Thalissa and her group remain behind, ready to defend the camp against any threat. You say a silent prayer for their safety, knowing that they are strong and capable warriors.
The sun climbs higher in the sky, casting a harsh light over the desert. Sweat beads on your brow, but you push on, fueled by the determination to protect your tribe and your way of life. The chieftain's voice carries over the wind, his words filling you with courage and resolve.
You tighten your grip on your gun and axe, the familiar weight comforting. Today, you march to battle, but you do not march alone. You march with your tribe, with your comrades at your side. And together, you will face whatever challenges come your way, united in purpose and in strength.
CHOOSE:
[] Write in battle plan
-Feel free to list ONE of each.
-Standard Infantry Gun weapon.
-Standard heavy Cavalry Gun weapon.
-Standard Light Cavalry Gun weapon.
-Other tech.
Be logical though as they cannot carry everything. Also anything truly rare and that needs a Factory Cathedral cannot be equipped by the entire Army.