On Thread Etiquette:
I'm not going to weigh in on the logic of either side's arguments, but I will ask that everyone read over what they write and really consider if the words they used are polite and won't be inflammatory intentionally or not. You cant account for people's tolerances perfectly but at least try to say your piece without saying things that can be easily construed as overly dismissive of the other side of the argument, thank you.
Hmm. Not sure how the Daemonward combo works tho, via MR Valaya, Sanctuary, and Determination. Does the Rune of Sanctuary empower the MR Valaya by anchoring the antimagic effect to the army as well, instead of just as a mobile magic-dispelling turret? But where does the Rune of Determination go in this combo?
Sanctuary increases inate Dwarven anti magic resistance the same way MValaya does.
And the combo is an Armour combo on the walls of Kraka Drakk, so nothing is anchored to the army and nothing would be manual dispelling related.
In cannon Grimnir did came back, in the last battle.
It happens off screen and doesn't really play any part on the wider narrative.
And so did all the worthy death of the dawi in a gigant army, a shame this happens AFTER Karaz-a-Karak falls to skaven.
Ancestors end times was poorly written.
Edit in aos Grugni clearly says that he wants the dawi to be self sufficient and not need him, he will always watch over them but prefers to interfere as little as possible to allow them to be their own persons not just his follower (a lot like a father son relation), Grimnir is just a fan of punching, Wallaya has some miths about her on aos but she is obbviously not an active deity, Gazul exist but has been partialy eaten by Nagash and so is a lot weaker now.
I just wanted to share how much I am impressed by some quester ability to discuss rune effects and possible combos THIS long, I alway thought to be a dawi maniac/nerd/fanatic but you people are a lot better at this, I have 100% trust on the fact that we will always pick the best combos and my contribution on that side is wholy unnecessary.
I just wanted to share how much I am impressed by some quester ability to discuss rune effects and possible combos THIS long, I alway thought to be a dawi maniac/nerd/fanatic but you people are a lot better at this, I have 100% trust on the fact that we will always pick the best combos and my contribution on that side is wholy unnecessary.
Naa dark the worst it can happen is that I get onto a 8 hours discussion about runes, I am one axam away from my degree, Let's not get too much sidetracked.
Naa dark the worst it can happen is that I get onto a 8 hours discussion about runes, I am one axam away from my degree, Let's not get too much sidetracked.
Average non Brana Griffon lives 60 years (? I don't have a source for that). So Brana would have to live 5 times their less magical cousins that to match an average Golden age Dwarf and more to match an Elf.
On the other hand, we haven't seen any die, although that might just be that only KotS is really in focus often at all and even for the average dwarfs we haven't seen many deaths, just three characters who had lines I think.
So how many years has it been since Brana introduction? Because right now is when we've seen the "new" brana generation grow up with dwarves as seen with Dolgi's high flying child.
So how many years has it been since Brana introduction? Because right now is when we've seen the "new" brana generation grow up with dwarves as seen with Dolgi's high flying child.
"Led a campaign recently as you know, only a week or two out from returning, but he smashed his way southeast towards the coast. S'how he found those respectable amber deposits, should last a few millennia at least, but that's not why I'm here. Lot of dead trolls, lot of other dead beasties too as we went I'm sure you can imagine. Nothing special 'cept for one occasion. He caught sight of some Griffons when he found the amber you see, feasting on some dead sea beast that got beached on the shore."
Your eyebrows raise appreciably, silently motioning for him to continue.
"Anyway, he's decided to host a competition for several of the parts gathered, but he's giving you some regardless, not as pristine as he'd like but your weapon did a number on them," he says, hefting a heavy box over to you.
"How bad?" you ask, keeping the morbid interest out of your voice.
"They exploded," he says simply, sliding over a box to you.
"Caught sight of some more griffons. Dead when I found em, it looks like the six of em wounded each other in a brawl before getting killed by a Greedy Troll and its band that I ran down right before they got to eat. Doing the same thing as last time, but you'd probably do more with these than other Runesmiths could I reckon," he explains.
E: If we assume the King of the Skies was fully adult by turn eight, then him and the oldest Brana would be in the range of 400 to 450 years old.
You only sniff in what could maybe be constituted in approval.
Brokk reports that he and his rangers were finding fewer monsters than usual, though the cry of griffons was more commonly heard nowadays. Something many of you, King Otrek included, are rather pleased about. The only other point of interest being when you bring forth your own proposal near the meeting's end.
This is from the turn 10 Results post. I think around here, when monsters start really downturning, that the Brana start really coming into being, but we have no way to confirm.
That too was an issue, for while the north was seeing daemons like the south, Kraka Drakk was also dealing with a continuous assault of Trolls surging out of the southern passes. The decade's worth of battles culminated in an assault by a horde a third again larger than the Greedy One's facing off against the Throng of Kraka Drakk at the mouth of the now aptly named TrollbanePass. There King Otrek led the throng against the horde from the vanguard, where the perfidious magic of the group of Greedy Trolls leading that terrible ensemble of beasts was thwarted by the larger number of Runesmiths and the presence of so many warding talismans. The Reckoner too made an appearance, leading the artillery barrage where its bolts destroying three times the number of trolls than its lesser kin, much to the joy of its crew.
The battle was fierce, but with the artillery intact, an entire throng armed with Runic weapons, talismans and banners, all led by a King bearing Trollslayer the outcome was never in doubt. It took most of the day, but the horde's back was broken when the King led a charge reminiscent of the one at the Dragon's Maw, breaking through the mass of bodies and defeating the horde's leaders, a group of Greedy Trolls all wearing crudely beaten Dwarf armour, the protection afforded by their theft doing nothing when their chests were blown apart by the singing edge of Trollslayer.
Though there was one bit of oddity, over the din of battle many of the throng recall hearing the piercing shriek of Griffons above them and the passing of shadows overhead. The odd phenomena and claims were supported by what Brokk and his rangers found as they dealt with the stragglers that escaped into the wilderness and traced the horde's path northward. Many times they found the sight of dead trolls and griffon feathers. Of what seemed to be lightning-fast assaults that left the dumb brutes little time to think before they were cut in half and had their heads crushed. Though they only ever see one of the great flying monsters actually dead, its body being eaten by the troll it had been fighting before Brokk killed it.
You're growing a small collection of griffon brains at this rate.
the creature sniffs, litres of air being sucked into its lungs before it exhales out of its now drooling mouth. Its eyes lock in on you, the pupils growing beady and brows furrowed in concentration.
"You...smell...familiar...you are what I see in my dreams. You are what kiLls the FiRsT... I know you RUNELORD, I see you kill the notme in My dreAms. My knees BucKle, my BreAthIng gRows S-shoRT, I hate this feEling, I hAte this FEar-r-rrrr…. I hATE yOU!!! " it roars, voice growing more and more warped and incoherent as it continues.
"Come and do something about it then," you mutter, activating Wrath and Ruin, the force buckling several of the beasts, but not all.
"KILL HIM. KILL THEM ALL!" The Greedy Troll bellows, frothing at the mouth, seemingly unaffected by the monumental amount of weight bearing down on it.
"KHAZUKAN, KAZAKIT-HA!" you bellow back, readying your axe.
Then suddenly a shadow, a screech, and a thunderous boom as snow and dirt and bark are blasted away from something landing on top of the Greedy Troll.
You clear the muck out of your eyes with a snarl and look at this new entrant, your gaze going up, and up, and up to see.
A griffon.
An absolutely massive specimen of a griffon. Its onyx black, almost purplish, plumage trailing away from an equally black beak down its chest and to its front talons, before shifting to a spotted white back and hind paws.
This is the first appearance of probably Ebonbeak, turn 13 opening post. Currently its the end of turn 47 in 384 AP. Mathing that out comes to about 350 years, with Ebonbeak and other Brana already being adults by this point and Ebonbeak is still kicking nice and strong as queen of Drongkaraz over in Ravnsvake.
E: If we assume that by turn 8 the King of the Skies was fully adult and kicking around, him and other Brana of a similar age would be between four hundred and four hundred and fifty years old.
I don't quite count the "first generation" with the KoTS, because magic fuckery was likely highly influential there because it could skew the age span to be more or less than it actually is due to magic shenanigans. It's
good to see them still going strong at 350 though. A promising sign, especially if the KoTS gets to incorporate more of the Winds.
I don't quite count the "first generation" with the KoTS, because magic fuckery was likely highly influential there because it could skew the age span to be more or less than it actually is due to magic shenanigans. It's
good to see them still going strong at 350 though. A promising sign, especially if the KoTS gets to incorporate more of the Winds.
Yeah that's fair. I'm basically going to assume the Brana work similarly to elves or dwarves, able to keep going until they lose the will to continue, until we receive indication otherwise.
Her information is imperfect, her position tenuous, and the lives of not only those here but potentially the entire Throng perhaps, rest on her decision.
Brynna makes her choice.
"Longbeard Grimbrow," she begins, voice firm, "Tell Lord Fellaxe that he has overall command of the rearguard. Hold if possible, otherwise conserve as many lives as possible, I am moving to assist Lord Hoggrison."
"Aye my lady!" The recently returned Longbeard shouts, splitting off from her and marching off to complete his task. Brynna can only spare a glance at him before turning back towards the location of the baggage train.
If the artillery is lost, this entire campaign will be unrecoverable.
May her wisdom be as the Ancestors this day.
━<><><><==><><><>━
They're trying to run from you.
A fool's notion.
The storm responds to your simmering fury, roiling and releasing a wave of lightning that illuminates the clouds to reveal the dark outline of the enemy outside your storm as clear as day. You adjust your movement accordingly, sprinting with limbs that do not tire, and a body that has escaped the constraints of mere flesh.
Do they think to escape you? To escape the consequence of their death-dealing and malice?
Bah.
Mhorni bends down, his stony hands melding with the earth before he heaves and wrenches a boulder of compressed rock nearly two-thirds his size from the ground then tossing it towards where you were looking. The massive rock flies through the sky in a lazy arc, piercing through the cloud and allowing a small glimpse of the outside world to appear before the wall of thunderheads reasserts itself once more, and lands with a crash that is joined by the pained screams of the injured and soon-to-be dead.
From the hands of the dying is thrown the axe-promise; one of vengeance and retribution that the living so swear to uphold and carry out in their stead.
Mhorni rips another boulder out of the ground, this time the glow of half molten rock can be seen crisscrossing its surface like cracks in dried mud. Your mental map of the terrain places you somewhere now more south of the Statue compared to before, and you confirm it by forcing a small gap in the eastern side of your storm to open up before quickly shutting it closed once more.
Nothing is forgotten.
With a silent heave, Mhorni launches the boulder and the barely held-together ball of stone and magma careens through the air above you before landing outside the storm in what you can only imagine is a shower of molten shards of rock. Several stragglers, concussed by the explosion or rendered immobile by its detonation fall into the radius of your storm soon after, and with it, their fates are sealed. Cloying ash, furious lightning and roaring thunder finish what your shadow's impromptu artillery started and kill them mere moments after.
Nothing is forgiven.
They can run, and they will perhaps know some success and elude you, if only for a time, but the vengeance of your people will come as surely as the rising of the sun at the turning of the dawn. And when that moment comes you will enact the will and desire of your people in the face of the grave injustices committed against them.
Every wrong will be repaid, every life lost before its time avenged, every debt made right.
━<><><><==><><><>━
A lazily spinning sphere of golden light large enough to encompass her and the Longbeard guards around her that flickers in and out of existence every so often, is the only thing that denotes Brynna's position on the battlefield to an outside observer. A trail of dead foes that conspicuously drew no one's attention in their wake marks their path through the hordes from the rear guard. It was the work of a potent Rune, one that could disguise the presence of all those in its aura to the outside world, muddying the senses and manipulating the thoughts of those who beheld it to ignore and remain unperturbed by its presence. A fine tool when the enemy was as numerous as they were now to be sure. They crest a small rise in the terrain, stepping over the dead and dying, where she bids they stop and survey the situation.
The situation around the baggage train had gone far worse than she expected.
The first thing she notices is the number of Dwarf bodies that lay in piles scattered about everywhere, not in a manner that suggested a long and grinding combat indicative of a Shieldwall, but in groupings and isolated pockets surrounded by dead Fimir and their hordes of slaves and beasts. Banners, sometimes broken, sometimes whole, marking what appeared to be the final resting place of an entire Clan's warriors in some cases. Similarly, she can spot the feathered remains of the Brana every so often; their bodies one and all were savaged almost to the point they were unrecognizable and always surrounded by a great number of slain dumal. They looked more like mounds of badly broken bones and torn apart flesh than the noble beings they were in life, a testament to both the Griffons' ferocity and durability as it was to the sheer number of foes required to slay even one of their number.
The debt to be settled was larger than she had hoped.
Putting the dead out of her mind for now, she surveys the battlefield further and finds some small measure of good fortune. The artillery, with the massive silhouette of Lord Hoggrison's creations sticking out like a sore thumb, still stood largely intact thanks to the efforts of a band of Dwarf survivors still fighting around it as the few remaining Brana flew above. Similarly, she could make out several other smaller pockets of surviving Dawi scattered about. The three largest concentrations were each slowly pushing their way towards the artillery to varying degrees of success, sometimes absorbing any smaller groups in their path or actively seeking out others on their way. To know that even now, in the depths of such utter chaos, her people still upheld the tenets of their Ancestors and bonds of kinship was heartening.
With a signal of her hand, Brynna and her guardians begin pushing their way towards the central blob, cutting down the enemy as they march under the protection of her Runecraft.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Vragni catches several of his students glancing at it every so often, trying to be quick and inconspicuous and utterly failing at both. He is not so blinded as to not understand why and leaves them to their childishness, lessons on not falling prey to appearances can wait for after everything is settled.
A walking storm of ash and lightning is not something anyone with a lick of sense merely ignores, even when it's ostensibly on your side, especially so when a Dwarf like Klausson is most likely the driving will behind it.
He both feels and hears the hum of his amulet before it pulses once more, flooding him with a surge of power that bubbles and courses through his body, from the tips of his moustache to the depths of his bones. The currents of power flow and separate, going to where they were most needed, restoring flagging vigour and dulling the ache of sore muscles. Invigorated, he throws Thundercutter skywards, his axe cuts through the air with unnatural ease, while its arc has it beheading a swooping harpy with ease. The weapon continues its journey, through the creature's neck as if it weren't there, following the path of his initial toss, but with a simple flex of his hand, the axehead tilts ever so slightly to alter its course such that it circles back around, slicing through yet more foes as it does so, where he can effortlessly grab it by the handle as it whizzes by him.
An altogether different heat fills him when he hears a ragged cheer claw its way out of the throats of nearby Dawi at the sight of yet another flaming boulder careening out of Klausson's incoming spectacle to strike at a block of Fimir warriors. Angry and indignant, tempered only by the logic of his mind, the ironclad grip of his will over his emotions and mental assurances that they were cheering the distant, but growing, war song of reinforcements from the direction of the statue.
Pomp and pageantry, excess and flash, power-a-plenty but targeted with the skill of a yearling.
The energy wasted maintaining that edifice to vanity, impressive a spectacle as he would grudgingly admit it was, could have been better spent at that moment clearing away the enemy. Their Ancestors had done far greater things with far less razzle and dazzle than what was on display here. If anyone believed Klausson cared for efficiency then he had Gromril-shitting goat to sell them for only five coppers.
In a way, Vragni can draw a fair number of similarities between that storm of ash and fire to Klausson's own behaviour. Grand displays, bold words and mighty deeds, but that pushed away all others while blinding the fool within to the realities of the outside world. A walking font of destruction that could so easily harm as well as it helped. Seemingly unchecked by nothing save its own will.
Klausson was too foolhardy to not barge in when he ought to wait. It may not be now, it may not be in a century or three, but Vragni can easily believe he would do something to rouse the ire of the Guild eventually.
Vragni can feel his anger build, and in a semi-futile bid to keep it in check he tosses Thundercutter skyward once more, watching as it flies true and lodges itself into the neck of a manticore. With another flex, the blade wrenches itself free in a shower of lifeblood and returns to its master's hand.
Later, he says to himself even as he grumbles and weaves through those Dwarfs too slow to notice him angrily and purposefully striding to the thickest of the fighting, right now there are more pressing matters to attend to.
The first foe to try their luck against him, a snarling Fimir warrior decked in daemon-bound Iron, dies in one blow, its helmet and the head it protected cleaved in twain as Vragni slams Thundercutter down upon its head with a guttural yell of anger.
"Have you no pride Dawi?" Vragni Silverbrand roars even as he cuts down a charging pair of bestigors, "Will you let others finish what you started?"
Those who can hear him roar in the negative, their wills invigorated by the bright Runes glowing on his armour and the harsh call to action.
"Then forward my kin! Now is not the time for reaction, now is not the time for caution! Now we bring our axes down upon their necks! Forward! For Clan and Hold I bid you forward, For the Ancestors I bid you end their wretched lives and fulfill the Grudge!" he bellows, finishing his impromptu speech by calling down a bolt of lightning onto an unlucky Dirach.
The vanguard surges forward, the horns of incoming allies and the roaring flame of Klausson's storm put out of Vragni's mind, if only for a moment.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Brynna announces her arrival with a wave of energy that invigorates the defenders around the artillery and tires the Fimir and their thralls, which is in itself quickly followed up by the roaring flare of a golden forcefield that roars into existence, bodily tossing aside anything in its path, clearing the way for her and her bodyguards to reach the now cheering line of Dwarfs. It does not take long for her to be taken towards the injured form of Lord Hoggrison, one of his arms wrapped up in a makeshift sling while both of his legs are being set properly by a Valayan priestess.
"Now you are a sight for sore eyes my lady! I'd stand to greet you, but I have been informed, most descriptively may I add, by Matron Lorri here about what should happen if I attempt to move myself," Sven greets, his words possessing a slight whistle that indicated missing teeth.
"It is understandable," Brynna replies, nodding at who she assumes was Priestess Lorri before turning her head to look at the corpses of several Chimaera laying just a few meters away from them.
Lord Sven catches her staring and puffs out his chest, an action that causes the priestess to narrow her eyes at him.
"I see you've noticed the individuals responsible for putting me into such a state my lady," he notes.
"Indeed. You have comported yourself well to have come out of such an encounter with only that many wounds, Lord Hoggrison," Brynna compliments.
"Your words are kind, Lady Brynna, but mistaken I'm afraid. You see, I was wounded far more seriously than what lay before you right now. You're currently witness to my body after my Master Runes of Vitality burnt themselves out keeping me from joining Gazul and my forebears," he corrects, grinning just wide enough to confirm that he is indeed missing several teeth.
"Truly?" she asks, eyes widening just a fraction.
"Aye. Shattered rib cage, regular and acid burns, pulped organs and a great deal of internal bleeding no doubt. This arm here was almost torn out of my shoulder when one of them decided to get cheeky trying to eat it, and whatever else can occur from being swallowed whole by said Chimaera and then vacating from its body by detonating its internal gas sacs. Matron Lorri, did I miss anything?"
The Priestess does not look amused, but duly informs him that he may be sporting a concussion alongside everything else, to which Sven does not look at all surprised by.
Brynna nods in understanding. The Master Rune of Vitality was a potent creation, but even multiple would find it hard pressed to keep a Dwarf alive from what Lord Sven described.
"Lord Sven, I imagine those Runes are not going to be of any use for the rest of this battle then?"
"HA! Days perhaps, my amulets are duller than my cousin Kazrick, I've never seen them go so dim. Much to my chagrin, I'm stuck as an invalid for the time being, but you oughtn't to worry. Something so minor as a mere concussion and three broken limbs will not stop me from doing what I must! I've already loaned out several pieces of my panoply and regalia to a select number of Thanes and Lords; better they are used in some capacity than remaining unused by my side after all. And as soon as Matron Lorri sees me fit enough to be moved, I intend to plant myself down onto a high spot and unleash woe and ruin upon those dogs."
"It will have to be enough," Brynna says.
"Oh? While I agree that having the two of us here is more than enough to deal with these cretins, what of the forces you were responsible for? If they're not here alongside you, wherever could they be?" Sven asks, craning his neck to try and look around for Dwarfs who were simply not there.
Brynna shakes her head.
"I believed speed was of the essence in reaching your position; if the artillery were to be rendered inoperable any hopes of a successful siege drop significantly. I have bid Lord Grimnar Fellaxe to lead the rearguard in my stead," she relays.
She has left the rearguard without a Runelord to make her way here, perhaps damning them but at the very least they would suffer far more than if she had stayed.
Some of Lord Sven's newly risen cheer fades as he digests and comprehends the consequences of her actions, nevertheless, he maintains his grin as best as he is able.
"I see," he begins slowly, still processing, "Then all we can do is focus on surviving this mess until aid arrives."
"Indeed," Brynna agrees, looking towards the towering mass of dark clouds and lightning that seems to be growing closer with every passing moment, then briefly wonders if it is a Fimir invention or something the Brana created, before deciding that the current situation requires that she worry about it later.
Eyes turning away from the storm in miniature, she looks once more towards the pockets of Dwarfen resistance scattered about everywhere, and immediately she knows what needs to be done.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Reform the shieldwall brave Dawi!" Burlok hollers, his voice like thunder, "Let your shields stand as strong as mountains themselves! Let the wretches find no purchase!"
The shieldwall roars in response, and to Burlok's minor relief he sees his people steady themselves once more despite the losses they have endured. The line straightens, holes in the formation are filled in, and the entire front forms up more tightly than before. In any other occasion the faults he sees would make it a sight to make Grimnir snort in disgust, but he considers it a blessing all the same that they had rallied at all. When Lord Fellaxe was slain, gutted by one of those monstrously large Fimir even as he beheaded the wretch responsible, the rearguard had almost completely broken from the loss. He isn't sure how he came to land upon the position of leadership, but honour and practicality demand that he shoulders the burden all the same.
Lady Brynna had told them to hold, and to his shame, it seems he could not uphold that order.
The rearguard buckling is a question of when, not if, in Burlok Oakenfist's mind, like a sheet of too thin metal being struck by a smith their lines cannot hold. Not without regrouping into a tighter formation, not without giving up the thin line that held back the Fimir from moving on and joining their allies assaulting where Lady Brynna had headed off to. Perhaps if Lord Fellaxe lived his ancient mind could have conjured some stratagem that would let them win the day, but his body now rested safely behind the shieldwall, and Burlok, it seemed, was the one left with the pieces.
"My Thane!" a runner yells, scampering up the hill towards him.
Before he can order the boy to sit down and take a moment to rest, a roar from above causes Burlok to push the youth to the ground before interposing both his shield and body between him and the oncoming Manticore. Right before the beast comes crashing into him, however, a white crackling blur from his left smashes into the monster, causing an audible crack from its body and a roar of pain to burble from its maw even as it was carried away by the force of the Brana's impact. The rest of the Griffons seemed to grow incensed at the enemy's newfound boldness and redoubled their efforts to keep the skies above them clear.
Burlok watches the renewed battle above for a few moments longer before finally helping the youngster behind him back up with an outstretched arm.
"My deepest thanks Thane," he says, bowing deeply.
"Don't go thanking me yet boy, it seems I'll need you to carry out your duty and go out there to carry a message for me," Burlok rumbles, letting himself come to the decision that his mind had been screaming at him for a while now.
To the beardling's minor credit he manages to partially straighten himself back up despite the heaving of his chest and the jitters in his hands.
"At once my lord!"
He does not immediately reply back, instead staring out at the shieldwall before him and allows his mind to come to the grim conclusion that has been brewing in the back of his mind for a while now.
Burlok Oakenfist feels it, even before he has actually said anything at all, the cloying and sticky touch of shame that grabs at his soul and Honour, before shoving aside the ignobility of what he was about to say.
"Get to the warhorns and tell Rorek that his Thane commands him to call for a staggered retreat. If he rebukes you, hand him this and tell him that I will bear the burden of this shame," Burlok mutters, handing over the heirloom dagger that bore the seal of his Clan as proof, "Do you understand me?"
He watches the lad, no more than fifty winters to his name by his estimate, fight back the sorrow and shock of the information to nod back at him, a grim but firm glint in his eyes.
"On my beard and my honour, I will see this message through even if it kills me my Thane," he swears.
"Off with you then," he orders, turning away from the sound of footsteps back to survey the front. His retainers, loyal to the end, do not make mention of the cowardice he is about to make them and the rest under his command commit, of the Runelord's order they are failing to uphold.
Yet they must. They must retreat, fall back and reorganize, lest they break and be cut down to a man.
"Valaya, may my course be the wise one," he beseeches, not begging, even now his pride would not allow that, but it is a close thing.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"Lord Silverbrand," Prince Gimli greets, offering a hand that Vragni takes and shakes firmly enough despite the blood that cakes most of his armour.
"Princeling," he replies with a shallow nod, "Your presence only speeds up the inevitable, and for that I thank you."
"Ha!" the youngster chuckles, "Not much to do when the Gift Giver's gone and ripped out most of the teeth from their bite."
"Aye?" Vragni grumbles, quickly looking at the storm as it swallows up running Fimir, Beastmen and monsters like a gluttonous beast, "Dawdling about while our kin still struggle against the foe would be shameful indeed."
The Prince of Kraka Drakk nods at him before sparing his own glance at the swirling inferno that was on a straight path toward the baggage train. The Fimir and their slaves, despite still engaging, were doing their level best to evacuate from its path, for what little good it did given how the living weather front followed after them.
"We'd best hurry if we want any glory ourselves eh?" Gimli jokes, a grin on his lips.
Vragni does not growl, does not rage against the foolishness of youth, and does not shame himself by behaving as a child would.
He does, however, nod once before simply stalking off, orders for the leaders of the vanguard to pick up the pace lest they feel his ire and for those apprentices who were not too grievously wounded to fall in behind him bellowing out of his downturned lips.
━<><><><==><><><>━
"I do wish my pipe had survived that scuffle with the Chimera you know. It's near impossible to find a carpenter whose skills match their title, my cousin was one such Dwarf, but he has long since returned to the earth and joined the Ancestors to feast in their halls," Sven rambles nonchalantly as he uses his good arm to tap on the Runes on one of his amulets, causing a crushing weight to settle on the backs of an incoming charge of Minotaurs that sent many of the Gors unfortunately closeby falling flat to the ground, unable to move. A dozen bolts of energy fly toward his position in response, but he contemptuously dispels the barrage by muttering a phrase that activates another amulet.
Brynna says nothing in response, instead sending a wave of golden light outwards to tank the blow of a heavily mutated Stonehorn instead of letting it crash through the shieldwall. She would not allow such a foul creature to undo the past few minutes of effort so easily. It was bloody and tiresome work, but through judicious application of her Runecraft to clear the way for the disparate pockets of survivors, she had managed to reconstitute what remained of the baggage train into a single whole once more. Which wasn't to say Lord Hoggrison had been idle while she went to work of course. He had commandeered some of the Longbeards guarding her and set them to the task of setting him down atop a vantage point from which he could cast the Runes on his remaining amulets with impunity. Which was how she found herself standing next to a half-ruined wagon that had been repurposed as Lord Sven's observation platform. Where, even now, he spoke about absolute nonsense while calling down fire, lightning and all manner of ruinous effects onto the oncoming enemy hordes.
If one listened to him ramble on, they could mistake it for the idle chatter Elders usually spouted while waiting for a drink after a hard day's work. Brynna couldn't fathom how the man had the wherewithal to talk and keep track of the battle. For her part, she had started to forgo the traditional chants she was taught to invoke before using her Runes just to maintain pace with the amount of aggression they were dealing with.
Not that Lord Sven seemed to notice, seeming to take her silence as permission to speak enough for the both of them.
Above her a Brana screeches in fury, falling to the earth as it brawled with a pair of manticores, landing deep within the Fimir ranks in an explosion of dirty snow and feathers. Even as she summons a barrier around the massive Griffon's form. Lord Hoggrison raises a talisman skyward even as he keeps talking, and she watches as one of the Manticores pulls away from its prey and then turns before barreling into the lines of its supposed allies, ripping, tearing and roaring in maddened fury after he had seemingly undone the magical bindings that had enslaved it to the Fimir's will.
"—Wutroth of sufficient quality, I have found, is almost equally difficult to source. The piece of lumber used to make mine had this lovely burl that my cousin turned into its bowl and— apologies my lady it appears our certain someone is back to their old tricks."
The Sorcerer.
Several minutes after Brynna had arrived, the Fimir's attacks had increased in ferocity by a significant degree for the first time. Similarly, both she and Sven soon found themselves the targets of an unknown, but dangerous, sorcerer who delighted in taking potshots at them from several different places at once. Lord Sven had nearly had one of his eyes, and perhaps the rest of his head, blown off by a bolt of multihued magic that slipped past both their attention. They had managed to stymie the mage's efforts, but it still kept up with its strategy, taking its shot mere moments after Brynna released one of her forcefields as had happened just now. She and her fellow Runelord had compensated accordingly, but in so doing had made her duties ever more difficult.
And now, things had only grown direr after enemy reinforcements arrived from the direction of the rearguard, causing their enemy to push their lines with renewed vigour. A fact whose implications, aside from the escalation of the Grudge she held and the resulting anger, Brynna very purposefully shoved deep down for later when she had both the time and inclination to mourn.
"No creature I have seen in my life has been quite so vexing," Lord Sven mutters as he and Brynna dispel a large portion of the projectile barrage before letting one of her force fields tank the remainder.
"Indeed," Brynna confirms.
"And I do believe we should begin worrying about that errant weather front sooner rather than later my lady—"
Sven is again interrupted by the roar of warhorns of a wholly different nature. Though it is quiet, largely drowned out by the din of battle and the guttural roars of the enemy, the unmistakable, and steadily growing bass of Dawi war song can be heard in the distance. While the Dwarfen defenders feel heartened by the growing sound of coming kin the Fimirs' forces redouble their already frenzied efforts, pushing against an unyielding but exhausted wall of Dawi steel. The tide of the battle hinges on whether the enemy can break their defenses before the vanguard can crush them between the two.
"Hold dawi! Hold now and let the dumal be crushed between anvil and hammer!" Sven yells, casting Runes with near wild abandon as lightning falls from the sky in torrents and the earth cracks and breaks apart like the crust of a loaf of bread.
Brynna uses her staff with increasing frequency, the head flaring and dimming every few seconds,
"Khazukan!" a voice thunders. The first word of the ancient call to war was spoken loud enough to draw Brynna's attention, followed soon after by the whole of the throng repeating after them. From her position, she can begin to make out two distinct shapes that seem to break away from the Throng.
"Kazakit!" the second figure roars his call too was repeated by thousands of angry, vengeful, lungs.
"Ha!" Both now roar in unison, charging with a speed that Dawi feet should not be able to achieve. Coming close enough that Brynna can, at last, now make out the individual identities of the two madmen who have run out so far ahead of the rest of the Throng, and she is not at all surprised by what she sees.
Vragni Silverbrand comes stampedes forward like an aurochs driven to the heights of fury, his beard flapping in the wind, with axe held high and shield brought out in front of him, both blazing like stars thanks to the Runes carved into them. Alongside him Prince Gimli easily keeps pace, each pump of his legs sending him bounding forward in a stride far longer than his legs would normally allow, the effects of his cloak leaving a trail of ice and snow in his wake.
Brynna watches the Runes on their combined equipment glow so brightly as to appear like a sun before the light is snuffed out when both make contact with the enemy. Vragni slams into the closest Fimir with the face of his shield, flattening armour and tearing apart flesh like paper with the force of his charge starting to hack his way forward. Gimli, meanwhile, leaps just before reaching the enemy, his armour making him appear like a glowing meteor of ice that slams into a massive Chaos Spawn, who shrieks in pain and surprise at the sudden weight now chopping its body to pieces. Mere meters behind them, sprinting along as best as they are able, a band comprised of a dozen and half of Vragni's apprentices and an equal number of Kraka Drakk Huskarls followed, belting their own war cries as they followed only moments after their respective masters. Soon after, like a tide rushing onto the sandy shore, the rest of the Throng follows suit, slamming into the now trapped Fimir with the furor that only a Dwarf bearing a Grudge can rouse.
Brynna does not bother to spare a glance at a cackling Lord Sven, instead gripping her warhammer with both hands and rushing to the front, Longbeard guards following quickly after her.
"Forward Dawi! Forward and through! Grimnir watches us this day, and we will not disappoint him!" she commands as she pushes her way to the very front, not even needing to use Runecraft to enhance the volume of her voice before embedding the butt of her hammer into the earth with a yell.
The act causes her hammer to flare wildly, releasing its stores as a wall of golden energy that surges outwards in a rapidly expanding sphere of light, enveloping the Dwarfen defenders in a glittering shield strong enough to withstand the bile of a troll. The weapon does not remain in the earth for long, however, as Brynna soon wrenches it free and enters the fray herself. And though the hammer's Runes have dimmed, their reserves utterly drained by Brynna's actions, it was yet a weapon of Dwarf make, and consequently still deadly enough to crumple armour and break bones when swung with enough force.
Then, as if the world wanted to ensure the Fimir knew they were damned utterly, a flaming boulder twice the size of the stones used by a Grudge Thrower is launched from within the now looming storm, the flaming ball of half molten rock landing with a thunderous crash and shower of sparks right into the heart of the now sandwiched Fimir lines. Drawing cheers and cries of fear from ally and foe respectively.
Vengeance, at last, was at hand, and the foe could not escape.
━<><><><==><><><>━
At the day's end, the surviving leadership comes together to tally the dead and relay their losses to each other, but also to discuss what exactly happened. Many are sporting bandages, arms in slings, legs in braces and in some truly egregious cases, there are Thanes with missing limbs sitting on chairs, stoically enduring the discomfort to attend the discussion through a combination of sheer force of will and the numbing qualities of fine Valayan alcohol. Even when everyone in attendance works towards the same task, It takes the better part of an hour for the final tallies to be calculated, but it paints a poor picture.
The Throng is savaged, not irreparably so, but badly all the same. While casualties among the statue defenders were light, thanks in part to your efforts, the same cannot be said for the rest of the Throng. One in five of the rearguard were slain or injured, though it could've been much worse had Thane Oakenfist of Kraka Ravnsvake not rallied and led the survivors in an orderly retreat after Lord Fellaxe had fallen, and for that, the Thane gets many a gruff nod and full tankards slid his way. The baggage train suffered the worst by far however, one in four Dawi among their number are either dead or too wounded to continue, and many can agree that had Brynna not arrived the Throng could not only have lost Lord Sven's artillery but the Runelord himself to the Fimir. The vanguard suffered, but not as badly thanks in part to Lord Vragni and King Svarti of Kraka Dorden, only losing one in fifteen of their forces. As for the Brana, you are all informed that they've suffered one casualty in ten, with most of that number being those who remained to protect the artillery.
A minor balm on that wound is the knowledge that the enemy bled dearly to deal such a blow. Almost entirely wiping out the Fimir's forces in their final mad push to slay Sven and the artillery. Of the Fimir's "elite," forces, be it their monsters or the most heavily armoured of their soldiery, twice your total casualties were slain, and if one included the mounds of dead beastmen and slaves that number swelled to five of the foe dead for every one dwarf slain or injured.
Yet in the deluge of information, as the various Lords and Thanes related in detail both theirs and the enemy's losses, you, and doubtlessly some of the other Dwarfs in the room noticed a peculiar pattern emerging in the Fimir's force composition. While the baggage train had both the highest quality and the most numerous forces attacking it overall, the statue had the second highest number of monsters after counting both the dead slain by the Throng and your hand. The forces attacking the rear and vanguard meanwhile, had a noticeable number of elite Fimir warriors amongst them; line-breaking behemoths in armour that required concentrated effort to bring down, the kind that would require the attention of a Runelord to keep track of. And most confusingly of all, the vast majority of the Fimir's flight-capable troops were not with the attack on the baggage train as one would have suspected, but over the vanguard and statue respectively, the Chimera riders being the only notable exception to that trend.
"These troop movements, I cannot be the only one who sees something odd about them can I? Deliberate in a way that cannot be ignored."
It is ultimately King Svarti of Kraka Dorden who points out the peculiarity of, however, causing the discussion in the room to slow and its occupants consider the implications before everything rapidly descends into a cacophony of discussion and theory-crafting. Thanes and Lords speak to each other and the room in general in equal amounts, while ale flies as tankards are slammed onto the table or refilled by out-of-breath beardlings. You remain silent throughout it all, as is slowly becoming the custom, silently digesting the information and coming to your own conclusions while the most prominent Kings slowly bring order to the discussion.
"That matches with my own experiences," Vragni confirms, drawing everyone's attention. He does not mince words and goes on to describe, in great detail, the odd occurrences and coincidences that plagued him during the attack and his own particular theories about what was going on. He put down a solid argument all told; on their own, the manner in which he was constantly forced on the defensive and the way he was forced to divert his apprentices across the front to bolster the shieldwall could be dismissed as simple coincidence, but together they did a curiously fine job of keeping him on the defensive and unable to do anything but react. You haven't personally fought alongside your colleague, but from what information you did have painted Vragni as being far more effective when he and his apprentices were forcing the enemy to react to them rather than the other way around.
"The mage," Brynna states, looking towards Lord Sven, "From what Lord Svaltisson described it appears he moved from the vanguard to attack the baggage train around the time the statue's defenders came to reinforce them. The tactics match well enough as well, as it spent its time and effort trying to eliminate both Lord Hoggrison and I when it thought us vulnerable. Aside from that peculiarity, and more importantly, however, is that other parts of your recollection are something that I find particularly curious Lord Svaltisson, if only because they seem to parallel what happened to me when I was with the rearguard as well."
Brynna's explanation is brief but concise, she recalled that the enemy seemed content to send their largest, most heavily armoured, warriors in small periodic waves, not at flagging sections of the shieldwall, but at random spots whose location was dependent on their distance from where Brynna stood. A departure from their usual tactic of escalation, where the Fimir sent large, escalating pushes of increasingly tougher forces that usually ended with heavily armoured phalanxes of their mightiest warriors that were meant to sweep aside their, theoretically, now beleaguered enemies.
"Staggering out their forces in such a manner," Brynna continues, "at the time I was more concerned about the integrity of the shieldwall, but upon further reflection, I realize it makes little sense if they wanted to actually overwhelm the rearguard. They were never in numbers large enough to be a threat to me, but with the information provided by Lord Svaltisson and the other oddities I observed taken into consideration, the idea of them acting as a delaying tactic fits their behaviour far better."
"And If I may add, Lady Gildedeyes, I believe you'll find this theory only grows more certain, and the enemy's malicious intent more obvious, after I offer my own conclusions," Sven chimes in, his regular drawl having a distinctly analytical bent to it, "It came to me as I pondered your words my lady, if you can believe it. Without the siege engines, I believe you said, the Throng would not be able to conduct a siege in a timely or effective manner or something to that effect. Consider that, compared to my esteemed colleagues, much of my value and power with respect to the needs of the campaign lay with my engines.
While you arrived after the worst of it had passed, my Lady, I cannot stress the damage their assault caused. The speed of the attack itself, and the sheer numbers at play removed any possibility of our defenders mounting a proper response before they were isolated from each other. And of course, the Chimeras whose corpses you saw, were all creatures that were both durable enough to survive what force I could bring to bear, while also being swift enough to close the gap as quickly as possible. They were also in sufficient numbers to ensure that at least some of them would actually reach my position even after I and the Branakroki slew many on the approach. Even from that cursory explanation, I imagine this esteemed company can already see the echoes of the same tailored response my colleagues received no doubt, but consider the greater tactical situation and the whole wretched masterpiece, as it were, comes together."
Sven coughs, then takes a long swig of his drink to soothe his throat before returning to his monologue.
"With you and Lord Vragni having been rendered otherwise preoccupied in the beginning stages of the assault, no aid could arrive to assist me and mine in a timely manner, or at least without risking your own tenuous positions a great deal to do so as we have now seen. Thereby cutting the baggage train off from any form of outside assistance. Furthermore, It takes no great intellect to see how this cretin's aerial might was situated in such a way as to divert the attention of our own feathered allies away from the center of the column. This attack was almost certainly designed to remove our ability to properly conduct a siege on their fortress cities. Perhaps even stop the campaign for months, if not years."
Murmurs of agreement arise as Lord Sven settles back into his chair, many looking down thoughtfully while others frown and grumble as they digest this information.
"If this plan had actually succeeded," the King of Dorden begins slowly, "We very well may have lost more than Lord Sven and the artillery, to be frank. Had his section of the column collapsed and been routed, the Throng would have been split in two. One part with Lady Brynna and the rear entirely without support on one side and Lords Vragni and Klausson on the other. And I don't mean to imply any lack of skill or valour on your part or that of those who were with you my lady, but with the numbers we've now witnessed In mind, I have doubts that the rearguard would have survived the forces that attacked Lord Sven added on to the numbers you already faced in combination. From there…well, I think the worst-case scenario could be imagined well enough."
Cutting through the Throng and wiping out its artillery, then encircling and destroying the rearguard before coming back round to either bloody or outright wipe out the surviving half.
The murmurs take on a decidedly grim tone.
"This bodes ill indeed. I am not one for baseless speculation, but I fear the enemy has someone new commanding them given the evidence now coming to light," Gloin says, finally entering the conversation, "The Fimir adapted to us before, aye, but this new strategy is too large a departure from the norms of before to have come from the same mind I think. They would have sent far more chaff beforehand for one thing, and their mastery over that infernal mist did not let them move entire regiments across such distances so quickly. What worries me most, however, is that they apparently know enough about our forces to properly respond to the Runelords present when developing their plans."
"We've been facing attacks for days beforehand, there were worries about how they got through… and I can't say for certain if it was the same foe but it stands to reason that the one who broke the storm was the same one who managed to get those parties through beforehand. And perhaps that was how they learned who was where?" One Thane comments, adjusting his sling slightly as several pairs of eyes turn to regard him.
Gloin slowly begins to nod, "Aye. Aye, that's the most likely possibility I think. Breach the storm to send small parties in, learn who was positioned where to configure your forces accordingly and then strike when your foe is most vulnerable."
"We have indeed dodged a most harrowing fate then," Sven murmurs, reaching for something that clearly wasn't there given how he frowns, before continuing on, "Praise the Ancestors for such fortune I suppose."
"In this case, Lord Hoggrison, I believe at least some of that praise should be aimed at Lord Klausson. His absence from the front until now has worked in the Throng's favour," Brynna remarks, glancing at you, "The enemy was not prepared, nor aware, of the abilities he could bring to bear."
"Nor were we to be frank," one voice in the back mutters, just loud enough to be heard.
You grunt, giving a withering look in the direction it came from.
Not as if you need to give them an annual progress report like you were an apprentice or something.
"Indeed! A mighty storm of lighting, flame and ash from what I saw. What fine ruin it wrought, what destruction! I should expect no less from the Eldest of our company," Sven chuckles, raising his tankard to you which you receive with a simple nod.
You try to ignore Vragni's barely hidden glower at your colleague.
"Regardless," Gloin cuts back in, "Lady Gildedeyes is correct. The enemy commander had no prior experience dealing with Lord Klausson. His capabilities were not known to them, and because of it, a potentially decapitating blow was turned into a great, if costly victory. And if I may be so bold to say, It could also represent an opportunity in the future, if Lord Klausson is willing to humour my proposal."
He, and most of the room not busy drinking or thinking, wait for your response.
"Let's hear it then," you finally sighed out, trusting that Gloin isn't going to spout something foolish as dozens of eyes turn back to regard the Lord of Kraka Drakk.
Your king seems to wipe away a bit of caution from his features before he begins to relay his plan to you all. As he speaks the room takes on a certain nervous energy as the implication of his proposal sinks into the minds of those in attendance. Frankly speaking, you were an extremely costly enemy to fight; the Fimir would have to spend far more resources to keep you occupied than the Throng spent deploying you strategically speaking. What better way of utilizing that fact than by splitting the Fimir's attention and resources between you and the Throng? Simply put, when the time comes for the Throng to besiege the Fimirs' fortress cities, Gloin proposes that you could deploy in front of a completely different section of their walls, far away from your allies so as to bring the full might of your storm to bear, and force the Fimir to split their defenders between two fronts. His reasoning being that the disparity in troops after doing so would be enough for the Throng to more easily conduct the siege and save far more lives than they otherwise would have.
"With your abilities Lord Klausson, you represent an unchecked threat capable of wiping out significant numbers of their forces, perhaps even breaching the walls entirely by your lonesome given enough time. The Fimir must respond to you," Gloin explains, "And the only forces they have that are capable of keeping you in check are those that can somewhat mitigate or shrug off the effects of your, Ash Storm for lack of a better term, and those are not forces in ready supply, especially after today. So each and every body the Fimir throw at slowing you down is one less warrior, sorceror, artillery piece or monster they can use against the Throng. They'd be left with more chaff than any actual threat to our forces defending the section of the wall we'd be attacking. And with Lords Sven, Vragni and Lady Brynna present to ensure nothing goes amiss, we could lose far fewer lives than if the Fimir could concentrate themselves fully."
A fine enough plan and you suppose the reasoning is sound too. Forcing the enemy to overcommit their relative to your own because they faced loss otherwise? Clever and wise in equal measure.
Of course, there's one hang-up.
"It relies on the Eldest Runelord of the North going out far enough away from the Throng for the resulting draw of bodies to actually be meaningful to our own efforts, however," King Svarti comments apprehensively, "You may be right if we look at things purely from the perspective of bodies being thrown about, but it misrepresents Lord Klausson's value does it not?"
And in some respects King Svarti is right. Runelords were not exactly as common as a Miner was after all, and ones your age especially, so there was an understandable caution and protectiveness when it came to keeping said Runelords alive. Even if it occasionally meant suffering the understandable ire from one of those said Runelords. You certainly don't think you need so much protection, even if you understand full well both the need and reason why others insist that you go around with a bodyguard or forty. For Gloin to propose this tactic, to risk you in such a manner entirely on your lonesome, speaks of either supreme confidence in your ability to survive such a potentially dangerous situation or apprehension at their chances against the Fimir. You know full well that Gloin came from the position of the former of course, but it's still quite the controversial choice to make.
"Our brother King speaks truly, let us not be so zealous in our pursuit of victory Gloin," King Villi cautions, no doubt voicing the concerns of many in the room, "With how many we've slain this day it may not even be necessary to jeopardize Lord Klausson in such a manner. Perhaps even his presence with the Throng would be a greater boon than without."
"This is true," Gloin admits, "but I believe the option should be present in our minds at the very least. Should we be proven wrong about the grievousness of the blow dealt to the enemy this day."
You cannot fault the King for that at least.
"It's reckless to risk a Runelord in such a fashion King Ironarm, and insulting besides," one Thane retorts, "Even if Lord Klausson agreed I could not abide not sending at least some portion of the Throng in the case of an emergency."
"And you insult the Gift Giver in such a manner Thane Garrek, by implying he would need our assistance. He has faced foes greater than any we've seen, by Valaya's gilded plaits he single handedly stymied half the forces attacking the statue."
"He doesn't question the Gift Giver's ability, only the potential for dishonour committing to King Gloin's plan may bring. To ask a Runelord to act in such a manner is the height of disrespect! To not do our best to safeguard him dishonourable in the extreme!"
Yet before the room can descend into argument and insults once more, someone you did not expect brings order to the chaos.
"Enough! Am I surrounded by Lords of the Dawi or am I herding a bunch of billy goats in the spring rut? There is yet time for Lord Klausson to decide, and it is his right to decide. Not yours, not mine, even if we disagree with it," Vragni grunts out, slamming his hand on the table for emphasis, "We ought to focus on what we can control. For instance, how we're gettting the wounded back to the safety of the fortresses. We've broken them here today, of that, you can be sure. And while we can all agree that the wretches have neither the numbers nor stomach to force another engagement on that scale, we should, however, not consider the roads safe. Especially after the Fimir's new leader has shown themselves far more able, and willing, to use underhanded tactics against us. Mark my words and know I'll bet my beard on it to boot, we'll face nothing but skirmishes all the way to our ultimate goal, but there shall not be another pitched battle until we're battering down their walls."
That seems to at least mollify the brewing anger to a more manageable griping as the combined attention of the assembled Dwarfs and singular Brana is pointed somewhere else. You keep an ear open as the conversation descends into the minutiae of logistical concerns and the movement of the injured, but more of your attention and mental energy is spent going over the earlier arguments. The arguments have been made well enough you think.
Where will you go?
[ ] [Siege:] Alone.
You doubt the Fimir have anything capable of harming you and your armour but the possibility does exist. But equally important to that is that by doing this it could save the Throng both time and lives. Open a second front that the Fimir must deal with during the siege. Fimir defenders suffer potentially major malus. Unknown effect on the Throng. Neither of you can reinforce the other.
[ ] [Siege:] Have reinforcements.
Perhaps a middle ground can be reached. If you intend to fully utilize your armour however, your potential aid must be in the form of Brana who can stay out of reach of your storm while being fast enough to give aid. Have Brana ready to assist you. Fimir defenders suffer potentially major malus. Throng suffers minor malus from weakening air defences. The Throng can reinforce you however.
[ ] [Siege:] With the Throng
Lend your might to the Throng, better that they have you nearby in case things get hairy. Throng will have your bonus applied to it alongside every other Runelord.
As Vragni said, there is time yet before you even reach the Fimir fortress, who do you end up speaking to? Pick 2.
[ ] Lord Sven, a gleam in his eye and a discussion about the glorious ruination you brought on his lips.
[ ] Karstah has been making noises about an idea that she wants your opinion on for reasons you don't yet know.
[ ] Stormsong, the aptly named Branakroki tasked by the King of the Skies to oversee the storm, has a proposition for you.
━<><><>< Losses ><><><>━
Dawi
Statue: 1 in 20 casualties.
Vanguard: 1 in 15 casualties.
Baggage Train: 1 in 4 casualties.
- All of Sven's machines survived
- Mundane Siege Engines: 1 in 4 were destroyed.
Rearguard: 1 in 5 casualties.
Branakroki: 1 in 10 casualties.
Fimir
Elites: double the total number of Dwarf and Brana Dead.
Chaff: triple the total number of Dwarf and Brana Dead.
Total: five times the total number of Dwarf and Brana Dead.
━<><><><==><><><>━ There will be a one-hour moratorium for discussion.
AN: I am upset with myself for taking so long to post this, it's certainly bloated beyond what I wanted it to and I've come to learn that I much prefer writing about research than combat even if I understand the need for me to practice. I really hope my vision for Sven gets through properly as well, but its honestly up in the air. Nevertheless! I hope you enjoy what I managed to put out here, and thanks for waiting so patiently. Obligatory reminder that there's a Discord and Patreon link in my signature if you wanna discuss my writing and pay me ice cream money respectively. Have a good one folks, and don't forget to C&C. :^)
Statue with Karstah and Hearthguard
Do the Fimir get around Snorri?
(Roll, Evade: 60 +15[Living Storm hard to miss] -10[Relentless Old Dwarf] =65, DC 70)
Nope, bonuses are the same.
Combat Round 1
46; 43; 35; 63 vs 50; 49; 48; 24
1 Win, 3 Losses. 2 Losses cancelled by Snorri Combat and Magic Rounds.
Combat Round 2
61; 36; 46; 50 vs 57; 16; 64; 53
2 Wins, 2 Losses. 2 Losses cancelled by Snorri Combat and Magic Rounds, Nat 1 exacerbates the loss.
Snorri is now moving towards the vanguard, forces around the Statue are now moving to assist the Throng at the Vanguard.
How does ??? React?
(Roll, Finish what you came for: 49 +30[???] =79, DC 70 to wipe out the baggage train as opposed to just fleeing altogether)
If they win both rounds the Rearguard will have prevented the Fimir from sending aid to ???, if they win 1, aid is delayed by that much, etc. If they collapse without Brynna then the aid bonus for the Fimir is bigger.
Magic Round 1
39; 39; 35; 45
4 Losses, Runesmiths don't cancel a loss
Combat Round 2.
23; 5; 31; 32 vs 52; 36; 55; 40
4 Losses, nat 50 exacerbates the loss.
Magic Round 2
40; 40; 40; 53
4 Losses.
(Roll, Orderly rereat?: 70 +15 [Grudge], +25[Veteran] -25[Terrible Losses] =85, DC 70)
Despite suffering almost 1 in 5 casualties the rearguard manages to get out of dodge in a cohesive fashion.
1 more round before bonuses cancel with vanguard, 2 before Snorri arrives. If you suffer 4 losses in a Combat round without a Magic Round to cancel a loss, I will roll to see if they manage to hit Sven, Brynna or an artillery.
Round 1 ends with 1 Win and 2 Losses.
If this result happens again I will stack a loss malus on the throng, if you hadn't gotten the magic Win I would have done it already for round 2
(Roll, Pride: 95 +10[Desperation] =105, DC 70 to see if ??? commits to try and fish an attack, otherwise he'll cut his losses)
Fimir are now on a timer with Snorri auto-wins now in effect. Fimir suffer another -10 Malus due to Klausson eating up their extra monster bonus. Fimir are now operating at +40 bonus, same as the Throng. Vragni is now in play as well.
[ ] [Siege:] Alone.
You doubt the Fimir have anything capable of harming you and your armour but the possibility does exist. But equally important to that is that by doing this it could save the Throng both time and lives. Open a second front that the Fimir must deal with during the siege. Fimir defenders suffer potentially major malus. Unknown effect on the Throng. Neither of you can reinforce the other.
[ ] [Siege:] Have reinforcements.
Perhaps a middle ground can be reached. If you intend to fully utilize your armour however, your potential aid must be in the form of Brana who can stay out of reach of your storm while being fast enough to give aid. Have Brana ready to assist you. Fimir defenders suffer potentially major malus. Throng suffers minor malus from weakening air defences. The Throng can reinforce you however.
These two seem like the best option, my issue with the latter though is that the Brana will most likely suffer severe casualties that they would not have otherwise due to spreading themselves thin; not to mention weakening the air defenses of the Throng itself which is not particularly wise seeing as how the enemy has their own flying units at play.
