Legions and Generals

Game Master NarcoticSqurl

The air hangs heavy in the fields of Thale where you had been summoned. Rolling hills and green grass fills your vision as far as the horizon in every direction. Thale has always been a calm land, as long as memory serves. Yet in recent years, travelers have taken more to the vast wilderness and hills that it promises. The cities were wondrous marvels to behold, for sure, but they were for a certain kind of people. A land so far untouched by modern machine and magic was a rare sight, and welcome for many. That was until the armies started marching.

These armies and their camps were now dotting the landscape, the camp you are walking through being only one of many. Heat was beating down, and flies were buzzing by the horses and stables. The Iron Lands, and Iron woods, Kal'Dorem, the marshes from north, and more. All of them congregated into one place.

The tent in the center of the camp was a large Red and gold housing, surrounded by banners of many people. Two guards exited the tent as you enter. In the tent stood a man clad in cumbersome Exo-Armor, a lightweight but resiliant metal, woven in bands and cylindrical chambers around his body and limbs. He was standing over a desk, staring at a map. The hologram projecting from a flat crystal on a round stand. With his hands, he would move the map, pinching and pulling to zoom in or out as needed, or rotating to try and see beyond the furthest mountains. With a sigh, he moved his hand in a waving motion, and the hologram dispersed. He looked up at all of you.

"It's almost as bad as I'd feared. The far Blackrock mountains are seething with corruption, and beyond Fissures' End even the elves prepare for war. As much as they would wish to stay out of our affairs, now they see the plight we face."

The man approached you one by one, stretching out his hand to shake all of yours in turn. General Virgil Stanze as he was known. Commander of the steam legion from the far southern Balteria. The city-nation known far and wide for their magic powered machinery. Flying vehicles, laser weapons, floating fortresses and seas over their skies.

"I trust you all had a safe journey?" he said with a smile.

Proper post later. Dotting for now.

Before the General addresses the gathering, Imrael moves among all that are gathered, dressed in a plain flowing robe of purest white that leaves only the arcing runes on his hands and face visible. His easy smile and good-natured demeanor touch all around. When he speaks, he makes sure to look each person in the eye and smile, as if sharing an inside joke that only they know.

When he approaches Rorrik Bogborn, Knight of the Shadelings, he makes sure to stop and shake his hand warmly. "Good to see you," says he, his voice reverberating deeply like a far-off thunderstorm. "It is too bad that we meet under such ill circumstances, but we must make time to talk after we have killed them all." He leaves with a loud laugh, as if he speaks not bluster, but a fact that has not happened yet.

To Orson Lowthorn, Imrael stops and embraces him as a brother. "I had hoped to see you here. Lord Fiero must take this threat seriously to send his favorite son! You shall bring glory to him, have no doubt!" Imrael shakes his hand again with a warm smile before moving on.

To the General's question, Imrael responds casually. "We have arrived, General Stanze. That is all we can hope for in this trouble time. What do we know of the enemy's disposition?"

"The journey was boring." A thin, armored elven woman with a complex looking rifle holstered across her back responded plainly. "We encountered none of the enemy on the way here."

Behind her another elf, a male, rolled his blue eyes.

In response to Imrael. "I can say the same thing to you, this must be a real threat if they call upon you and your people to fight. I did not expect to see you here. I have not seen you in years."

To General Stanze. "The journey was quite pleasant actually. I have not had the pleasure of marching with an army in a long time. You have assembled quite the force here." Orson stood tall, his armor covered in dings and scratches from the dozens of battles he has participated in. A sword hangs at his side, with a revolver on the opposite side, and a shield on his back.

Rorrik squinted against the bright sunlight regretting that this meeting had been arranged for open lands of Thale. "Why not in some cool, shadey glen in the forests he thought to himself."

Still, being sent out here to join this army was preferable to banishment. He had figured that someone as near-to-immortal as Lord Verith would have had a chance to develop a sense of humor over all those years... but apparently that wasn't the case.

He surveyed the growing assortment of warriors from across the allied lands and was impressed at the array set before him.

In turn he saw some of those folk casting skeptical glances at the pack of shadeling dog cavalry he had brought with him from the Shadowed Marsh. No matter, he knew the worth of his folk when it came to light cavalry, tracking, and skirmishing.

He hung his odd dragonfly helmet from his hip, seeing no need to conceal his features from the assembly, and slung his curved sword across his back.

He turned at the greeting from Imrael.

"Well met indeed, Imrael. We will indeed have to speak after the assembly, and perhaps share a drink and toss some dice.."

Rasseth is the last but none the least he shakes the generals hand "Well met general" as he can't avoid to raise his head a little bit towards the general.

We move around all the time the Wrathscales have no place to call home yet, until we settle someplace we can make a living" as he looks at the others "Nonetheless, with the current threat there is no place we could remain safe" as his eyes flares and electricity crackles in his mouth making him look more menacing and angry for no apparent reason.

Another woman entered the tent, pushing the flap aside as she ducked her head beneath the canopy. The woman was already tall at over six feet in height, but the deer-like antlers that rose like a crown from the brass headdress she wore gave her an additional 8 inches to push seven feet in total. Her lithe form was covered in a deep green breastplate and pauldrons with golden brass trim, flowing around the plates in curls and giving it an organic feel, along with matching greaves, vambraces, and fauld overtop of leather strapping. On her back, the woman wore a cloak made of wolf's fur with the head pulled back as a mantle, giving a somewhat regal feel to the woman while a sword hung at her waist.

Despite that, her green eyes showed a more feral attention, slitted like a cat's with a dull glow behind the pupils. Her lips were well-formed and full, yet the bright teeth beneath showed fewer molars and larger incisors to make up for them. What bare skin could be seen on biceps, thighs, and along her cheeks and neck had harsh tribal tattoos in blood red like open wounds. Scanning the group that had entered, she laid eyes on the Nephilim.

"Imrael, it does well to see you again. I hope your efforts have borne you fruit these last seasons," she said in an archaic accent. Nodding to the others as well, she looked over at the General. "My journey was well enough, the paths are somewhat crowded these days however."

Raidon shakes Stanze's hand warmly after taking a long swig from his canteen, dust coating his hair and armor. "Yes, the journey was uneventful, and free of exceptionally notable conflicts. A group of bandits attempted to decorate their wagons with our wealth, but were quickly dissuaded from that idea. Other than that..." He pauses and shrugs.
"I hope you've been well?"
Looking around the tent, Raidon greets the others.

"I'm well, thank you. Virgil smiled at all of you in turn, greeting you with firm handshakes, and hugs for his more well known comrades. He paused for a moment before Kan, noticing her height and ornate headress. Virgil himself stood at 6'10" tall. He was a broad-bodied individual, with very large shoulders and chest. His legs were thick and strong. Every bit of him was an embodiment of power.

He turned back to sit at his desk, placing his hands in a contemplative fist before his chin. Virgil was not an easy man to read most times, but now he had an air of doubt around him. Touching the crystal gently, a hologram popped above the desk in front of him. It was very obviously writing- a list of some sort.

"All of your followers and inventory are being accounted for while here. It would do no good to lose any of yours, or their possessions." he said calmly. I think it's obvious that nobody is taking this threat lightly. Marcaus is only a servant of his death God Ob'Nivix, but he fancies himself a God as well. Or at least he strives for Godhood. His warlords lead his host south from the Helfrost.

Again, he touches the crystal, and the map reappears, this one a view of the land of Avithale. He points to the northernmost place on the map. "They ravage northern Avithale as we speak. We would meet the front of the armies in the Navaru desert if we continue at our current pace. But I mean to surprise the enemy. If we can congregate on them from both sides, we can pinch them tight, and pop them like a blister....here." he says moving south. His finger is resting on the mountainous badlands about 100km north of the desert.

At normal pace such a journey could take nearly two weeks. Transporting all of the men, horses, equipment, and weapons would be no easy burden either. But Virgil was known for being bold when in the field. He wanted to meet the enemy force, and take them out.

"Of course you'll be allowed rest before we set out. Though the sooner we can strike, the better. Could your people handle this?" he asked sternly.

Imrael speaks up quickly, gallantly. With a broad smile on his face he measures his tone to convey not only conviction that the enemy will be overcome, but that the words he speaks are meant to convey his concern for the welfare of all assembled.
"General! Although I'm confident that all here, from the fire-hearted Dragonborn to the stalwart legions of Kal Dorem, will rise to this challenge, I can speak for but mine own people. And the Nephilim of the Immortal Republic are ever ready to march tirelessly and ceaselessly in whatever direction you command. For the Republic!" Imrael says this last with a quick gesture, touching his right hand to his heart and extending the arm out. He takes his seat, smiling at the room, eager to see who will stand with him and be his brother.

"Always well spoken Imrael" as Raasseth nods towards him, but nothing more than a empty compliment to continue speaking "I do hope we have a more defined strategy then just ambushing them with all we got. Maybe set traps to cut their retreat, archers and magic attack before we charge into them so we might break their lines or at least cut their numbers down?" as he raises his head slightly and crosses his arms.

"If we are able to beat them to it, we might be able to set up and use the terrain to our advantage. If we are able to surround them, and force them into an unfavorable position." Orson looks around at the others present. "My men should have all of their equipment sorted out by the days end. They can manage the journey. They didn't come here for a walk in the park."

"Such a feat is doable. But what of logistics? I cannot recommend such a journey to the mountains or the deserts beyond without proper supply lines. And such a pace means leaving behind the heavy artillery." Tarrana said in an even tone.

"I do not see why we could not. It is why we have come after all," Mahreena said. "So long as we keep our wits together it should simply be a question of endurance and tactics..."

Tarrana cocks an eyebrow. "Let us hope its only a matter of tactics then. Living soldiers get hungry, grow bored, lose focus, long for home, need to do basic things like eat, s%&!, and breathe. The undead suffer none of these detriments. Perfect soldiers. Implacable killing machines." Tarrana says the last line with a hint of admiration.

"Don't underestimate the living, Tarrana. The very longing for home you mentioned will make them defend their homelands with all the zeal they can muster - a far greater zeal than that of the emotionless dead."

Turning to Stanze, Raidon nods. "I like this plan. With a little help from the spellcasters, and a lot of determination, we should be able to be in place by the time they arrive. When do we start?"

Orson nods in agreement with Raidon. "Unlike the undead, if we survive the battles ahead we have lives to live. That will to survive and go home to our loved ones does not exist in the undead. I would rather have an army of those who are willing to fight to protect those they love and their homes over an army of the undead any day."

Imrael nods sagely at the philosophies on the undead. His consent rumbles out in deep bass. "Indeed. Good Orson and Friend Raidon, you may have hit the nail on the head! That is something that we must keep in mind. Since the Undead are mindless and can only follow the orders given to them, that means they have a limited 'Command and Control' network. If we can but keep them guessing, they will have a slow response time to changing conditions. For all their logistical benefits that good Tarrana has sighted, this is their ultimate weakness.
And that may be what the General means by a two-sided attack. If the lion's share of our forces, say, three-fifths, set up a fixed position and tempt them to battle, the enemy will be engaged there. Then the remainder could hit them in a flank, in a "Hammer-and-Anvil" maneuver. That may prove too surprising a maneuver for the mindless foe to respond to, allowing us to roll up their line, for I doubt undead have a command for 'retreat'."

"What intelligence do we have on them? Is there army consisting mostly of mindless troops as has been assumed here?"

"I would suggest taking out their handlers, for without them the undead would crumble, while I suggest we engage during the day as to avoid some of the most unsavory undead creatures" as his plan sounds good and people seem to be adding to it.

Virgil listens to all of you in turn, giving brief nods to the further questions spurred by his notions.

"The march might be tiresome if we were to trek through the desert and crags on foot, for certain. But once we reach Fissures End, I've commissioned a fleet of airships to carry us across the Navaru in a timely manner. It was expensive but I think well worth the effort."

"As far as intel is concerned, scouts and informants report that the foremost host is a legion of risen dead. No doubt the victims of the warlords advance south. Every person they've slain, every life they've taken is another body to their force. I believe that cutting a large portion of them away from their handlers would weaken them considerably. The undead are not able to strategize on their own. Though the Reborn of The Shadowlands may have words to say about that last part." he admitted almost sheepishly.

Virgil was now focusing on the lot of you. "Whoever is leading this front host is doing so with precision. I do not think any of Marcaus's warlords would trouble themselves with such a meager task, and no sighting of them has been reported. As for traps...well I hardly think them necessary. Destroy the source of their unlife, and that should be enough." he finished.

Virgil laid out a list of provisions and equipment in his possession, offering to share any heavy artillery or vehicles with your respective forces. "If you have a need that I can meet, I will."

"You are more than generous general. With the lack of knowledge of where the enemies warlords are, we should go in too hastily with a large portion of our forces. They may be using this large force as a distraction to draw our attention elsewhere." Orson scratches his chin, and ponders the possible strategies to apply against an army of the undead.

Imrael ponders the General's offer. "If you have catapults, we'd take a few, and if you have large quantities of oil to go with them, we could cover the undead in flames. But no trebuchets, please. We'd take a couple balistae, and as many of their smaller cousins, the scorpions, as you can spare. Or if you have any mangonels, we'd accept all that you have."

Some stuff in discussion. =)

Catapults, Ballistae and Scorpions sound like great choices that are transportable and efficient that we could all use" grudgingly acknowledging Imrael for his idea "It is just something else that adds to my great idea in the end"

Tarrana pours over the list of provisions seeing what is available before speaking her request.

Tarrana is looking at high speed vehicles and light artillery like small cannons.

"Between Shimmer and me in the air, and my light cavalry on the ground, I think my troop should be able to scout and locate the enemy." Rorrik offers.

"I doubt we can trick them into chasing us into an ambush, just because the dead aren't known for being too impulsive."

Not looking up from her study Tarrana responds. "Any reconnaissance is better than none. Does anyone have any mages of sufficient strength to scry the enemy in any capacity?"

"Flying might be another option, if scrying is not available"

"If only someone had a giant dragonfly...."

I'm sorry guys, I had been speaking metaphorically. I just now saw the siege weapons in Ultimate Combat. heh. ^_^

Imrael takes in the ideas being bandied about. "Haha! You have a fine idea, good Rasseth! I have at my disposal some number of spells which might be used for additional scouts, to bolster the supreme talents of good Rorrick here.

What say you all? Shall we ask the good General if he has stores enough for all of us?"

"We are planning on meeting them in mountainous terrain, yes? Perhaps we could set up our attack at a bottleneck, or ravine of some sort. We could set up our siege engines above, and then shower them with oil, rocks, and other inconveniences. When they finish regrouping and turn their attention to getting rid of the siege devices, we storm in with the cavalry."

He frowns. "That would work against living troops. I'm not sure it would be as effective against most mindless undead, however."

Just throwing out an idea to show I'm still here.

Turning to Stanze, Raidon asks "How many spellcasters do we have access to? They will have a large impact on viable strategies we can use."

The general takes quick notes on a nearby sheet of paper. "Imrael, your appointment of artillery sounds fine. We have more than enough to accommodate such tactics. Scorpions and Ballista are aplenty in our camps. The larger catapults and cannons can be assembled. We also have a few Firewyrms available for those that would like to burn the corpses down." He finished making his notes, and pressed a seal down on the letter.

"I'll send this to the head master at arms. Tarrana, you may be interested in some of our newer vehicles. We call them Fiend-Runners. Small, one person all terrain vehicles, completely enclosed in armor. It is armed with rapid fire sidearms, and small cannons that launch explosives to your front." he says with a smile. "The men have been itching to try them out." One person armored vehicle, size of a large warhorse. Sidearms deal 2d6, can be fired twice per round. Explosives fire out to a distance of 60ft, deal 4d6 plus sets flame to any flammable items.

He continues to speak "We have a myriad of spellcasters. Scrying is how we found out about their planned route. Their numbers however were what we underestimated. I think with all of your here, and a little bit of strategy, we'll be fine though. Nothing more than a few thousand corpses under the control of a host of necromancers. If you'd like, feel free to request artillery from our master at arms. Get your soldiers well equipped and we can be on our way," He stands with a movement of authority, and dismisses you all.

Outside of your tent you're greeted by soldiers ordered to show you to the area allotted for your host.

Mahreena nodded as the meeting came to an end, heading out along with the others towards where her soldiers were billeted. In a way, walking through the encampment was a wonder. The Scarus and other tribes of course knew about guns and technology, more than a few of her people had a blunderbuss or the occasional pistol of their own, but they mostly preferred ancestral arms and armor. Likely they'd take the brunt of a melee or act as a rapid response group, moving to where the battle needed reinforcements quickly. By comparison, all of the other armies had far more advanced technology than she had seen before... At least, not without it being pointed at HER.

"Gran Kan! Gran Kan!" a voice called out, and the druidess turned to look. A blonde woman, her hair tied in a braid down her back wearing a chain shirt and leather breeches, came bounding up to the Kan with a smile. "Can you believe all this?! There's more people here than I've seen in some towns!"

"Calm yourself grand-daughter... You're going to bounce right out of your boots at this point," Mahreena said, seeing the young woman's excitement. "I swear you have your sire's flightiness at times..."

And thus does my cohort make her appearance!

"Most generous of you general." Tarrana says. "We'll take seven and move out immediately."

Imrael takes the General aside asks quickly. "Sir, can you or your mage corp give me a more specific location for your proposed battlefield? I could fly there ahead of the host and begin preparing it. As you know some of the greater spells can take some time to work."

Orson left the tent and walked towards his horse. As he approached the horse a man in a suit of armor rode up to Orson and spoke in a stern voice. "Sir when do we head out? I cannot sit still while these undead are moving through the land."

Orson looked up at him for a moment before continuing towards his horse. "Calm down Darren. You will get your chance to fight these undead soon enough." Orson hopped onto his horse and looked towards the soldier who was going to lead him where they were going to camp. "Lead the way, we will follow."

Before they began moving Orson turned back towards Darren. "It is nice to be able to fight along side you again. I am happy you accepted my offer."

And with that my cohort is now here too.

Squinting at how bright the sunlight seems after the relative dimness of the tent, Raidon pauses. After looking around himself to make sure there is sufficient room, he says "Alright, Silvertalon. Come on out." Raidon speaks a command word and touches the grey and black griffin symbol on his armor, which flares briefly before disappearing. Simultaneously, a griffin materializes in the empty space next to him.

"Let's head to camp - we're done here, for the time being."

That's my monstrous mount. I'm torn between making my cohort a gunslinger based around really long-ranged shots, or a cavalier based around charging into battle, heavy cavalry-style. The rest of the followers would follow the theme of the cohort, hence the delay in rebudgeting. What's your opinions, if you wouldn't mind?

Hey guys, here are my promised conversations. See Discussion for background. I'm just doing spoilers for sake of length and clarity, but feel free to look at them all if you so desire. =)

As the meeting winds down, Imrael approaches each of the respective leaders in turn.

As you all depart from the generals tent and make your way to separate pavilions, you're reminded of your writ of command to be delivered to the master at arms and vehicle stables. With a quick seal of your command as well, you manage to send these off to be filled. Imrael made a suggested list that I'll allow for everybody as well as special requests such as fiend-runners, firearms, siege weapons and engines (like tanks, rams, and towers), as well as weapons from the technology guide.

After sending out for equipment, you're all approached by a lieutenant under General Stanze. They issue you all crystals similar to what you saw in the generals tent, and inform you that these can be used for communication between leaders, as well as map tracking, and attack coordination, as well as many other features. Think like a cell phone or video chat room

"Of course great Imrael. I would be honored to be the hammer upon the anvil to defeat the cursed undead. I agree with your strategy, but I will have to wait on deciding how Sir Raidon and I shall pull off our attack. Without the proper knowledge we might be outflanked ourselves. When the battle commences and we see how the lines clash, then I will be able to decide how Sir Raidon and I shall strike."

I would like to have 4 fieldrunners. Might as well have a bit of fun. Also did you get my email NarcoticSqurl?

"Proper title is Dragon Lord, then Wing Lords, the Talons and the scales." as he correct him in the titles of Dragonborn military. "There are other titles but those are the basics, if you truly desire to know. In regards of my troops, I have a small unit of aerial cavalry to harry some of their troops and a stout infantry to stand their ground if that's is what you need." as he thinks the position "You want my infantry to stand on the left of the center and support it and the left flank?"

A heavily armed figure steps up next to Rasseth "We can hold, I will keep the battle line up and running Dragonlord. This I promise! as a small sliver of a purple like substance, drips lightly in his mouth to show devotion to Rasseth "I will inform Winglord Searos to make preparations."

When Tarrana receives the crystal she is greatly intrigued by it and spends some time familiarizing herself with all the features.

Going to alter this alias for my cohort so ignore the stats for now.

Imrael had been somewhat taken aback by Tarrana seeming dismissal of the battleplan. Of course it was not the best plan, but with so many cooks at the pot and considering the terrain, it seemed at least good for now. So he didn't know how to react.

So he is quite grateful that her second showed up and explained more fully. "Ah! Oh, yes. Thank you for that. I admit that my duties have kept me from spending time enough in the Elven lands, so I am most thankful for making that clear. I had not meant to offend, or indeed even be the final word, I simply thought that a starting point for the conversation would be helpful.

Would that seem more amenable to your commander? Again, I do not mean to be the final word, and in fact I DO agree that events may and will change once we see the exact terrain and the disposition of the enemy. I merely mean to have some kind of starting point so we do not go in completely without plan with arse out and pants down. You see?"

Shendalyn smiles placatingly. "We shall see. I think it would be wise to see whether or not such strategies would be even necessary. Reconnaissance, I remember it being called. Good day."

Having received all the responses he expects to, Imrael returns to his troops and makes ready to move out.
I'll do a more detailed post later, I just wanted to make sure nobody was waiting on me.

So, I was gone MUCH longer than I originally intended. There was a lot of snow up this way, so dealing with internet and power outage, and let's just say the wife was in an "awesome" mood this weekend (/sarcasm). Orson I got the email, all looks accounted, thank you!

The camp dies down for the night, as gentle laughter and storytelling is heard. Throughout the pavilions last minute preparations are being made, and your followers are returning with your requested weaponry. Spending the evening watching the revelries, you all retire to your beds early enough to get a decent rest.

You can't tell exactly how long you've been asleep. Raised shouting and horns had woken you. Rushing to prepare, you get a ping from the communication crystal. It is General Stanze. "Commanders, I'm sorry to have woken you. We recieved information about the enemies advances. They're farther south into the desert than was originally perceived. Our scouts have reported quick movement. We're moving out to intercept now."

From the crystal appears a map, showing you the area that the undead are moving through. As the map time-lapses, it brings the army into an area where the two will meet, given current movement speed and location.

Map: http://i.imgur.com/GK43Hq1.png

The circles are the enemy units. Feel free to offer where you would like your units to go. I'll wait for everybody, I know there are some who are out.