Yes, hundreds of dragons and mages, Seraphon crippled in an exchange with Minathnir, and still none of them manage to catch up to the king even while his ride is disabled, because he keeps blasting the fuck out of them from the sky.
Imrik brought a bunch of Dragons true but most of them were not involved in the fight between him and Malekith and after he lost their duel and his Supreme Spell Shield and Seraphon was mortal wounded the Witch King ran because he knew if he stayed in the fight he would lose a lot more then that. Most of the Dragon large group of Dragons and their companions that was not much more then 50 where busy destroying the Druchii forces involved in the battle I was referring to.
Yes because being able to kill a Hydra in single combat with a sword he set on fire still makes him maybe the least physical combat oriented of the named High Elf characters outside of Teclis.
Yes, but this isn't about taking on the entirety of Naggaroth in order to kill just Malekith himself. This is trying to take on Malekith and an injured Seraphon by themselves, or, later, together with a black Ark, with an army of hundreds of dragon riding mages, and the Asur still deemed the casualties they would have to suffer in order to take him on with the force of every dragon in Caledor to be too much.
Which, since Malekith had just finished creating several dragon corpses with the snap of his fingers, is perhaps somewhat understandable.
Malekith had just gotten done losing to Imrik and Imrik goal was to win the battle and not kill the Witch King. After Malekith start to retreat Imrik turned to make sure the Dark Elf Army as a whole was broken.
Does anyone know a good place online where you can find the High Elf and Dark Elf armybooks on line because the duel I am talking about was originally mentioned in either the High Elf 6th edition book or the Dark Elf one. It was in the Timeline section and it mentioned a fight between Malekith and Imrik in which the Witch King lost his Supreme Spell shield in the Sea. This is a separate incident from the stuff in Sons of Ellyrion which is supposed to be happening around the same time as the Battle of Finuval Plain.
Now, it's been a while since I read Sons of Ellyrion, but I seem to recall there being a massive Druchii invasion, Black Arks in the strait of Lothern, the city about to fall under Dark Elf control and Finubar himself at the front lines in a desperate last stand.
You do not send all of your heavy hitters to chase after a hard target with no guarantee of destroying it when your monarch is actively engaged in hand to hand combat with the enemy. Killing Malekith won't guarantee the Asur win, it just means that the Druchii lose too.
The book covers events that are happening during the Dark Elf invasion that had coincided with the Storm of Chaos stuff right? Because it's been a while since I saw a summery of the book.
The book covers events that are happening during the Dark Elf invasion that had coincided with the Storm of Chaos stuff right? Because it's been a while since I saw a summery of the book.
No, it doesn't mention exactly when it happens in the timeline, but we can gather that Defenders of Ulthuan/Sons of Ellyrion happens at minimum after 2425 since Grom's invasion of Yvresse has already happened and Eltharion has become the Grim.
However, we know it can't be concurrent with Storm of Chaos, because Teclis and Aislinn are in the Old World for that, and they're in Ulthuan in the novels.
I have been eyeing this quest for a while, but only recently got the free time to read it. Great work, Blackout, really made me empathise with Fanriel's guild even if she understands very well that she only has herself to blame.
Swordmasters are also cool, a much better option than any other starting unit players could have chosen.
P.S. This really made me realize how much of elven awesomness was lost to balancing reasons in Total War.
I have been eyeing this quest for a while, but only recently got the free time to read it. Great work, Blackout, really made me empathise with Fanriel's guild even if she understands very well that she only has herself to blame.
Swordmasters are also cool, a much better option than any other starting unit players could have chosen.
P.S. This really made me realize how much of elven awesomness was lost to balancing reasons in Total War.
The games, tabletop and video format alike, must first and foremost follow the Golden Rule: Be Fun To Play. It is not as pronounced in fantasy as it is in 40k, but in order to fit onto a table or not cause PCs to burst into flames horde armies must be toned down in terms of numbers, and so in turn elite armies must be toned down in terms of how superior they are man for man. But quite often the pursuit of balance leads to some sillyness when considered from a lore perspective.
Perhaps my favorite example of the absurd disconnect between the lore and the gameplay is how when they made Old World, GW wanted to cut down on the number of Lores of Magic in the game for balance reasons, so they removed the eight Winds of Magic from the game, since the Colleges of Magic hadn't been founded yet.
Except, that meant that the elves, who are the ones who would teach the Colleges of Magic to use the eight Winds, also somehow forgot how to use them.
One thing's been bugging me though, a what-if. There was a choice to not go into Norsca ourselves, so in your estimation, if Fanriel & Co didn't go herself but everything else remained the same as much as possible (same companies, same general plan, same roll results), do you think the counter raid could have been successful? Would the summoning have been interrupted?
One thing's been bugging me though, a what-if. There was a choice to not go into Norsca ourselves, so in your estimation, if Fanriel & Co didn't go herself but everything else remained the same as much as possible (same companies, same general plan, same roll results), do you think the counter raid could have been successful? Would the summoning have been interrupted?
Razin would have hired someone else to replace Fanriel, he wouldn't have just gone in raw. He was specifically in the market for an experienced commander, knowing that he himself lacked the necessary expertise, so a lot would have depended on what observations, recommendations and decisions the commander that he hired in your place would make.
They would definitely have had a harder time getting the element of surprise on the Norscans, without Talondor to raise the Soulmist, but they also probably would not have tried to hit all three of the potential targets (Longship Yards, The Pit, Gudshöjd), so the question is whether they would have gone for the right one, or tried to hit them in succession rather than splitting up.
[] Send Aramil and Stormclaw to chase them down. Summon some Lesser Azyr Elementals to support Aramil and make his job quicker.
You nod to Vaelon, who raises the signal horn to his lips and blows a series of notes that Aramil doesn't even bother responding to, Stormclaw rocketing towards the Harpies with a blood-curdling screech that echoes across the mountains.
[9+21(Fanriel Magic)+5(Abundant Azyr)-20(Multiple Complex Spells In Quick Succession)=15/100]
Next, you raise your hand, words of Anoqeyån slipping from your lips as your soul reaches out to pull down the torrents of Azyr blowing through the mountain skies. The Blue Wind flows strong and free here, an abundant source of energy for Celestial Magic, but also making it difficult to control.
You struggle to wrestle the mercurial power of Azyr into proper shape as it surges through you, static lightning buzzing around you, small arcs dancing over the surface of your armour. The humans physically shy away from you, one of Holsgart's adjutants who had been on his way towards you, presumably to query as to what was going on, suddenly found that he had other places to be.
"Hunt Harpies."
You speak the words even as you engrave them into the core of the spell taking form in your palm, and it shoots out from your hand into the air, forming into a vortex of churning air and blue power, the physical and aethyric manifestations overlapping in your vision.
The living, vaguely humanoid cyclone beats its wings and rockets off after Aramil and Stormclaw, and you start working on the next one, but the pair are already almost halfway there.
In the end, you only manage to summon a handful of Elementals before they'll be too late to meaningfully help.
[48+38(Aramil Prowess)+5(Son of Chrace)+5(Student of the Spear)+5(Champion of Tor Gard)+40(The Whitefire Glaive)+30(Stormclaw Prowess)+60(Monstrous Size)+10(Soulbonded Companions)+20(Elemental Support)]
Gryphon and Prince slam into the Harpies like the Spear of Kurnous itself, Aramil's glaive tracing a pattern of white flame around him as it shreds through the Harpies. Stormclaw dives into the flock like a shark through a school of fish, killing several just from the impact of his body, his beak and claws accounting for many more.
Anvaril spins in Aramil's grip, its deceptively thin blade parting mutated flesh like the prow of a Hawkship parts sea foam. The glaive is designed so that it can be used to both thrust and slice, but Aramil swings it in great sweeping arcs, killing multiple Harpies at a time. At the apex of his swing he lets go, Anvaril spinning through the air, cleaving through the Harpies as it goes, while Aramil draws his sword and stabs it into the heart of another Harpy who had thought him vulnerable without his weapon.
Stormclaw hunts methodically, one by one picking out his targets and diving on them, before moving on to the next.
It brings to mind a memory from your childhood: when you were perhaps ten summers old, the White Citadel, the seat of House Drangleic, had suffered from a rat infestation after a merchant ship brought over a shipment of grain from Tilea. Your father had been at his wits' end trying to deal with the verming scurrying through the walls of his ancestral palace, but the rodents seemed bigger, smarter, more resilient than anyone could recall dealing with. They evaded traps, refused poisoned foods and for every hole filled in they chewed two more by the next day.
At last, your mother had brought in a specialist from Chrace, a tall and strikingly handsome elf with flowing brown locks, who instantly captivated the young, bored Princess upon first sight- in the light of hindsight, your very first crush. You remember pestering your parents for hours until you were allowed to follow him at work: he'd seemed flattered by your precocious attention- whether out of genuine fondness for excited children or just because a peasant cannot be rude to a Princess, ten years old or not- and introduced you to his hunting hound. Not one of the overbred beasts used by the humans, but an elven wolfdog of prime stock, all sleek black fur, long lupine muzzle and strong, athletic build.
Over several days, he tracked down every opening that the rats used to traverse, cataloguing them one by one but leaving them untouched, much to your confusion. Then, once he was certain he had found all of them, he enlisted the palace staff to close all of them at once- all save one. Then, he started whistling, managing to produce such a hideously shrill noise that it hurt your ears to listen to, so high-pitched that a human wouldn't even be able to notice it.
But the rats certainly did, and while they could have chewed new openings eventually, with one escape route left to them, they took it, only to emerge right into the waiting jaws of the Chracian's hound.
She stood there, over the small hole in the base of the wall near the kitchens, and the instant the first rat scurried through the opening she pounced on it, snapping it's neck with one twist of her head.
Then the next one. And the one after that. And the one after that.
An hour later there had been a pile of dead rats, a very well-fed hound, and a hefty coinpurse sitting at the hunter's belt.
That is what Stormclaw reminds you of. He grabs a Harpy with his talons, and then, with a twist of his beak, tears its head off. And another. And another.
Decapitated corpses spiral down towards the ground far below, splashing the rocky hillside with blood.
Gryphon and rider work in flawless unity, Anvaril spinning through the air before flashing back to Aramil's waiting hand, corralling the Harpies into Stormclaw's talons.
The Elementals join in a moment later, tearing into the Harpies with claws of solid wind, but the fight is already decided by then.
It takes less than a minute for Aramir and Stormclaw to put the surviving Harpies to flight, and a cheer rises from the ranks of the watching soldiers as the Beastment scatter in every direction, some fleeing upward into the clouds, others diving for the treetops. The Elementals dutifully follow them, their limited minds unable to even conceive of anything else, but Aramil pauses for a moment, Stormclaw ripping the last Harpy in reach in two with his talons-
-And drives his heels into his companion's sides, the Gryphon diving after the Harpies like a falcon.
You could attempt to call him back, but… your father taught you that one of the most important maxims of leadership is to never give an order you know won't be obeyed.
You know that a prideful huntsman like Aramil won't give up the chase once committed just because you give him the order, and so giving it serves only to drive a further wedge between you, and make you look weak in front of the others.
The best you can hope for is that the Elementals speed the hunt along.
And so, you keep moving.
The marching column snakes its way through the hills, following the path of least resistance towards Nebelhauchwald. Of your Asrai scouts you see neither hide nor hair, but you remain unmenaced by Greenskins, so you take that as a good thing.
The greatest challenge comes from keeping the army in formation: the column stretches like an accordion, closing ranks each time the front encounters rough terrain and the rear grows impatient, only to spread when the front is past the obstacle while the rear is still navigating it.
It is repetitive work, and you can tell frustrations are building up as units are repeatedly told to slow down or wait for others. Particularly for the Ogres, with their small minds and long legs.
Holsgart soon proves that your decision in making him second in command was, at the very least, not entirely without merit. He rides up and down the line, making himself present wherever you are not, dishing out orders to fix up the formation.
And when tempers flare and glares turn sullen, he manages to defuse the situation and keep everyone moving forward.
A part of it is certainly that you are an elf, and he is not. You are a witch, and he is not. But that is not all of it. Most of your force is composed of Westerlanders, more tolerant of either than almost any humans in the world.
You suspect it is because of his status as an outsider, an officer in the State Army of Ostland rather than a mercenary commander.
Once, during the Eclipse Wars, you had found yourself struggling to manage a pair of Princes, one from Tiranoc and another of Eataine, leading contingents of their household troops. Every order was pushed back on, every word out of your mouth taken in the worst possible light.
The only thing that had worked was assigning the High Sister of one of the Maiden Guard regiments that had been placed under you to work alongside them. It wasn't that she had the prestige to order them around, she was no Handmaiden- though the Handmaidens had most certainly been present, nearly in their full strength, they of all people had far more pressing matters to attend to, and frankly if you needed their help with such a minor issue you should never have been put in charge of the campaign to begin with.
But what she had been was someone who was outside of their normal social hierarchy, neither a peer to be seen as a rival like you were, nor an inferior to be dismissed like everyone else. She they could hardly argue did not deserve to be there.
And while Holsgart's situation is not exactly the same, he is a military officer in service of your employer- it is difficult for a mercenary leader to argue he shouldn't be in a position of command, in a way that wouldn't apply to another mercenary.
You just have to hope that, even if the battle goes well, putting a feather in the cap of a secessionist zealot does not come back to bite you.
Regardless, despite certain difficulties, you manage to reach the edge of the Nebelhauchswald, where you now have to reform the army from a marching column to a square formation.
The Northern Sons form the front of the square- not your best fighters, but they are well-motivated, and deep ranks count for something. On the forward-right you place the Ogres, the Butchers joining their kindred without asking for orders or permission. Their combat power should help counteract the weakness of the Northern Sons.
The left and right wings consist of the Westerlander Halberdiers, versatile troops that can hold their own in any situation. That leaves De Jonge Bokken as the rearguard: their Goedendag spears are not ideal for fighting Beastmen given their usual lack of armour, but at least they'll be capable of fighting any kind of enemy that shows up to some degree.
That leaves the Lightfangs and the Fireclaws as the reserve inside the square to plug gaps and respond to threats, small in number but making up for it with magic and elven skill.
You do not bother trying to get word out to Scarloc: scouting ahead is broadly what you would have his force doing anyway, and if you told him to do it he might stop doing it out of spite.
Aramil has yet to return, but deep, avian screeches echo through the forest every so often, coming from somewhere to your northeast, so you know that he is at least around.
Getting the army moving into the forest itself proves to be a task and a half. The square formation is effective in warding against flanking maneuvers, but it is unwieldy to move in, especially in the confines of dense woods, where you cannot see either edge of the formation from the middle.
It starts to lose shape almost immediately, the corners narrowing and widening, the straight lines of the edges bending around the pressures of the terrain, as men push through thick underbrush of branches and try to maneuver through networks of roots thicker than a man's thigh. The forest itself is as uninviting as it was when you first came here, the canopy so thick that it might as well be night, and you have to give the order for some of the men to light and carry torches just so that they aren't stumbling blindly.
The Ogres push ahead, their long stride and bulky frames crashing through everything in front of them without slowing down, and naturally the formation starts to channel behind them, as they trample a path that is easier for others to follow than carving their own.
The formation distorts, the lines becoming frayed. You do what you can to try to stop it, but the ground is too uneven for a Shadowsteed, and you can only be in so many places at once. In those places you are at, the men are sluggish to obey, drudging along on sullen faces.
And where they do obey… they are more focused on watching their own feet and the men next to them, than the dark forest around them.
It comes perhaps an hour after you've entered the forest. The storyteller in you wants to say that there is an imperceptible shift in the air, a lengthening of the shadows cast by the torches that precipitates a sudden attack. But that would be a lie.
One moment is just like any other, then a sharp note blows through the dark forest, echoing from the tree trunks.
"That is no Malavarithoi horn," Tinuthal says tersely.
She is right. That is an elven hunting horn. And there is only one reason for Scarloc's band to reveal their position so.
"Ambush!" you shout, as horns behind you are already responding to the warning call. "Brace yourselves!"
That is all the time you get before black-furred Beastmen burst from the darkness to fall upon the front ranks.
[65+12(Northern Sons Prowess)-20(Surprised)-20(Out Of Formation)+20(Skirmisher Screen)=57/100]
The Archer detachments of the Northern Sons are overrun in mere moments, the survivors streaming through the Spearmen lines in a panic, but by their mere presence, they have bought their comrades a brief moment to at least point their spears in the right direction.
It is not enough, but it is something.
Your height allows you to easily see over the humans, to behold the moment when the lines make contact with a terrible crash, hulking Gors with matted black fur slamming into shaking spears and shields with their horns lowered, cracking bone and knocking those that survive into the rank behind them. Men scream as they are gored to death and trampled into the dirt by cloven hooves. Axes and clubs swing, blood spraying as axes carve through chainmail and flesh alike.
For a moment, the Ostlander line wavers. Gaps open as men are thrown back, bodies hitting the ground in broken heaps
But that is the thing about humans, they can afford such casualties. The ranks of the Northern Sons are arranged deep, and though the first rank is slaughtered, there are plenty more behind them to present a fresh row of spear points and shields.
Holsgart's voice rises above the cacophony of combat for a moment, exhorting his men to hold, for Sigmar.
The Ogres are no less caught off guard, but here the Gors run into a wall of muscle and fat. There is a sickening crunch as bodies collide, but the Ogres barely budge. The sheer size and weight of the massive brutes absorb the charge, their thick muscles and gutplates turning aside the worst of the blow. Some Ogres stagger back, grunting in surprise, but they do not break.
A few Gors are lucky enough to find gaps in the Ogres' defenses, hacking at their exposed flesh, drawing dark, sluggish blood, a handful even managing to bring down their prey by weight of numbers. But many more simply bounce off, knocked sprawling by sheer mass or swatted aside by enormous hands. One Ogre roars in pain as a Gor's axe bites into his thigh, but his response is swift and brutal: an enormous club swings down, pulping the unfortunate Beastman into the dirt. Blunderbuss-sized pistols are discharged at short range, sending shrapnel ripping into the Beastmen.
"Smash 'em!" You see Krag's towering form over the shoulders of his Bulls, his voice is like rolling thunder. A massive slab of an arm sweeps out, sending a hapless Gor flying with a single backhanded swipe. "Break their skulls and eat their marrow!"
Grisla and her Butchers stand back, surrounded by their Mawguard, but you can feel the Winds twist as they are pulled towards the Slaughtermaster's cauldron, some foul incantation to the Gulping God slowly taking shape.
It is not ideal… but the front line is holding.
"Your orders, Loremaster?" Tinuthal asks, her voice taut. "We could join the fight, but our reserves are scarce in number."
Your lips press into a thin line as you arrive at the same conclusion. A hundred men, and only half of them elves. You will need to be careful about parceling your forces.
Before you can reply, movement catches your eye: a runner, sprinting toward you from the left- the direction of the Irongulls company. His breath are ragged and his steps frantic, nearly stumbling over an exposed root, barely catching himself before staggering to a halt in front of you. His face is pale, his chest heaving as he gasps for air, wide-eyed with panic.
"L-Loremaster-!" he chokes out, his voice uneven, struggling to force the words past his exhaustion. "They… they came from the shadows- they're killing-"
You seize his shoulder, your hand nearly engulfing it entirely. The weight of your grip makes him stagger, and when he stumbles again, you lift him effortlessly, steadying him before he can collapse outright.
"Speak, soldier!" Your voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, sharp and commanding.
He swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. "Y-yes, ma'am! The left flank- it's collapsing! They're breaking through!"
You swear under your breath. The moment you let go of him the man nearly collapses, staggering against a tree trunk.
From the right, you hear the sound of gunfire- solid volleys, not sporadic gunfire. However the fight goes there, they are at least fighting organized. But from the left, even your keen ears can make out little above the mayhem of the fighting in front of you.
Clearly something is wrong there, even if the man might be exaggerating in his panic.
But you have only the Lightfangs and the Fireclaws to send. Dare you commit all of your reserves at the opening of the battle?
-Decide what to do.
-Voting is by plan format only.
-A plan must include an option from both of the categories listed below. You can add additional write-in options, but the plan must address what reinforcements, if any, are going to the left flank and where Fanriel personally goes.
-12 hours moratorium.
-Decide how to respond to the call for help from the left flank.
-[] Commit all available reinforcements to the left flank.
-[] Commit the Lightfangs to the left flank.
-[] Commit the Fireclaws to the left flank.
-[] Order De Jonge Bokken to abandon the rearguard and reinforce the left flank.
-[] Send no reinforcements to the left flank.
-Decide where Fanriel will place herself personally.
-[] Take charge of the left flank, superseding Helsner.
-[] Take charge of the forward flank, superseding Holsgart.
-[] Remain at the center in overall command.
Example plan:
[] Plan Ostrich
-[] Send no reinforcements to the left flank.
-[] Remain at the center in overall command.
Strength at the outset of the mission:
The Lightfangs
Loremaster Fanriel
10 Swordmasters of Hoeth
20 Lothern Sea Guard
Scarloc's Archers
Glade Lord Scarloc the Wanderer
50 Asrai Waywatchers
The Fireclaws of Vaul
Mage-Smith Valahuir Aunrith
2 Asur Sharpshooters
20 Asur Marksmen
50 Human Spearmen
Prince Aramil Amakiir
1 Ulthuani Griffon
The Cult of the Great Maw
Slaughtermaster Grisla
Butcher Brulk
Butcher Grubnar
Butcher Morak
20 Mawguard
3rd Ostland Auxiliary Company
1 'Captain' Krag
150 Ostland Ogres
Apologies for the long wait, as mentioned I had some dental work done and it was very hard to focus on writing.
To explain what happened there mechanically, Fanriel failed the Martial roll to avoid exposing weaknesses in the formation while moving through rough terrain, whilst the Beastmen succeeded in identifying and targeting those weaknesses. Scarloc then lost the opposed Intrigue roll to prevent the ambush, so you were both surprised and out of position.
I have also made rolls for the right and left flanks, and other things, but so as to not prejudice your decisionmaking with information Fanriel doesn't have access to due to the fog of war, I have kept them hidden.
Fanriel herself didn't have a single roll above 40. In terms of non-Fanriel rolls, Scarloc in particular rolled almost unbelievably badly. He got an 11 on the die on a roll where he had a +40 advantage over his opponent. Just awful.
In fairness, while it's a good lesson, with that roll I'm not sure it made all that much difference, honestly.
In terms of the actual plan, I think I lean towards sending the Fireclaws to deal with things while remaining in command in the center so something like this:
[] Plan Send the Fireclaws
-[] Commit the Fireclaws to the left flank.
-[] Remain at the center in overall command.
I'm not wildly enthused about it, but I think the consequences if it isn't under control are a lot worse than those of sending the reinforcements are. In particular, one reason we have the Fireclaws is for dealing with corrupted spirits and I think there's a real chance that's what's freaking out the left flank.
Yeah, we had quite a low average for rolls here.
- Aramil was pissed and went off to do his thing, hopefully he went after monsters that would target us later.
- Scarloc couldn't spot the ambush soon enough. I hope he didn't lose too much elves against the beastmen during that skirmish phase.
- Fanriel couldn't keep the formation together, which is understandable due to the patchwork organisation and the terrain, but still a fail.
At least, not all sides of the formation are crumbling at once. And reserve is there to work with this kind of situation.
I would prefer to not send all of our reserve at once for now and stay in the center. We need to coordinate our troops and Fanriel is the key figure for that. Send the Lightfangs, they can handle themselves well in this kind of situation. If a big monster breaks through the lines, the Fireclaws can still deal with it. If we need more melee support from the reserve afterwards, Fanriel can still summon some chonky Chamon elementals or something.
The difficulty is that we are in a middle of a forest, with trees, fog of war and unclear battle lines. If they clearly saw minotaurs or bigger somewhere, sure, but there are as likely to shoot a gor as they are to shoot a man in this kind of context.
I would prefer to not send all of our reserve at once for now and stay in the center. We need to coordinate our troops and Fanriel is the key figure for that. Send the Lightfangs, they can handle themselves well in this kind of situation. If a big monster breaks through the lines, the Fireclaws can still deal with it. If we need more melee support from the reserve afterwards, Fanriel can still summon some chonky Chamon elementals or something.
With you on this, though I'd be inclined to send the Elementals now, given the dire state of the left flank. Holsgart and Helsner are both capable commanders whose men are loyal to them, so it's really Fanriel's personal combat prowess and ability to command the battle as a whole that's at issue... Still trying to work out whether the ability to keep information flowing is worth it when the forest is already impeding it vs. her personal intervention.
There's also a part of me that's tempted to ask Vahanuir to detach from the Fireclaws so he can work his Aqshy on the horde to the front of the square but not only would that be quite the ask (and risk getting the human soldiers caught in the crossfire, depending on how valuable Vahanuir holds them to be), the Butchers are already there. I'm hopeful that their Maw magics can turn the tide once the momentum of the Beastman charge has abated.
(As a final note... Am I paranoid or does the rear seem suspiciously unassaulted? De Jonge Bokken were noted as not being terribly suited to fighting off Beastmen, and if they've managed to identify our formation's weaknesses... Mmm.)
@Blackout we've been told that Valahuir can conjure fire and chamon elementals. How useful would those specific types of elementals be in terrain like this?
@Blackout we've been told that Valahuir can conjure fire and chamon elementals. How useful would those specific types of elementals be in terrain like this?
Fanriel doesn't think fire elementals would be very useful in a forest, Lesser Chamon Elementals wouldn't be much use in your current situation, and she doesn't know what Greater Chamon Elementals do.
Wow.
So, the Ogre Butchers should take care of the front.
We probably have spirits, or something unbelievably scary and indescribable, ripping through the left.
Which means that either Fanriel + Lightfangs, or Valahuir + Fireclaws, need to go on the left.
Who is better of the two?
1) Fanriel & co. means better melee capabilities
2) Valahuir means better ranged capabilities
We don't see big monsters from here. So I am tempted to switch left, to put things in order and recover a broken wing that would not be able to cover Valahuir's snipers, while leaving Valahuir as a "reserve in waiting" for the Minotaurs / Bestigors / whatever that will come from elsewhere any moment now.
We do have Flaming Sword of Rhuin, in case we are dealing with forest spirits, right?
