ImmacuNES III: Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy

I'm sorry i'm late, I'm working on 2 papers due next week, as well as an anthropology project. I'll try to get something, anything, in my moments of spare time tomorrow.

Orders will be sent in a few hours. Sorry

word of caution: orcs get easily impatient

vruchten said:

word of caution: orcs get easily impatient

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well, orcs aren't working on two term papers and one term project, are they?

thomas.berubeg said:

well, orcs aren't working on two term papers and one term project, are they?

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oh, what is paper? hrmmm... what is term? hmm, hmmhmm.. and what in hell is project? *chubba scratches his head in confusion*

edit ooc: don`t mind me messing around
edit 2: i have minus 1 brains, so what do you expect

"The Riaï tell us that our diviners and healers lost their powers because Succellus left us, but I ask of you; Who is to say that it was not us who left Succellus? We, once the Tearwillow, have strayed far from our home forests who have now been corrupted by the horrors of Ceridwen, but the woods are still in our hearts.

And so, it seems, is this horrid corruption ridding the forests. What else is the explanation for the terrible disaster that overcame our Princess Anabella and her court in the kaer, where we ought to be safe?

I say, we need Succellus now more than ever! Let us return to the fervent prayers of our past and we can hope to heal this terrible malady that has befallen us and our world! It is time that we refind the God who we lost in depths of the kaer that we may once again be blessed by the good health that is our birthright as elves of the woods!"

-Speech of Alastaïr The Healer, Unsmitten Sjykalfar Elder and Former High Priest of Sucellus.

"... And among the halls of the Sjykalfar nobles, the Riaï, one elf in particular sticks out from the rest; where the corridors are otherwhere filled with the smooth rustles of the fine black clothing that the Riaï drape themselves in, and the almost nauseatingly sweet smell of nutmeg and something else, perfumes perhaps, there is the one member of the court and Royal council who is not draped in the traditional black clothes; indeed, The Araïlumni, "The Unconcealed Warrior", walks instead in her battle armour always, as the only one in the court to expose her chestnut-brown skin and dark, rich brown hair to others.

She is the only member of the court who is not of the Riaï, and she is the spokesperson of the common elves of the clan. Not skilled in the arcane arts like most of the Riaï, she instead earns her keep through a solid knowledge of both strategic warfare and one-on-one combat. Not always lost in her studies of the arcane, her considerations and work goes instead to the common man and woman of the Sjykalfar, and she is always a deeply respected part of the council and one that even the Princess will rarely fail to listen to."

-Throal Entry on the Araïlumni, the "people's tribune" of the Sjykalfar Court.

update is coming along. One of you will be very upset and one of you will be very happy.

I have a sneaking suspiscion that the upset person is me. Unless the ice wyrm ate the Tabba Ghut.

surely it`s me who gets in trouble... maybe my whole army, my hero and his famous ax got lost while they where running berserking into the horrors... poor souls...

Maybe my civ is getting snuffed out. I think that's a clear possibility.

Or my seemingly peaceful empire is destroyed by something completely random.

The bigger question is, who could be happy?

ceridwen could be happy...

everyone who isn't the unhappy guy?

Ceridwen’s servants continue to feel the fading effects of her heaven upon Errovus. More and more the weaker sort lose their capacity to remain upon the realm and slowly, in dark corners, far from the eyes of man, disappear from this world. But the stronger Horrors remain, hidden and unseen, as their new servants enact their will upon the land.


Black Threads Under Siege

King Varulus III of Throal has had enough of the raids by the monstrous creatures known as the Black Threads. He had seen enough of his people carried off into the night by the constructs, had seen enough of his soldiers slain in battle. And so, with a heavy heart he orders general Coralis to take the battle to the Black Thread’s nest. Leading a mixed force of infantry, skirmishers and crossbowmen with scouts, engineers and acolytes of Killmorph for support, Coralis marches into the southern mountains.

Along the way his army is constantly harassed by Black Thread forces; they strike, always at night, from mountainous caverns and tunnels, engage the forces of general Coralis, then generally melt away. Every night of supposed rest is one fraught with anxiety and blood and attrition begins to mount quickly despite the excellent training and equipment of the Throalic soldiers.


Meanwhile, amongst the Uld’ar, the Black Thread raids continue. The Uld’ar are prepared however and use outposts and bonfire-signals to warn of nocturnal attacks. The Uld’ar also train new skirmisher ax divisions to join their javelin-skirmishers to launch a constant barrage of harassment at enemy raiders as they make their way into the Uld’ar interior. Using these divisions in well-timed hit and run tactics, the orcish forces are able to make the enemy creatures pay for every foot of land and when they are finally prepared to close with the enemy, they generally do so on good terms.


While the raids, over the first few years, are numerous, the number of Black Thread raiders committed never really mount. It seems that the activities of the Throalic army keep them busy in the south.

General Coralis follows his trackers and scouts and finally come to a mountain fortress around which Black Thread workers are busy logging and collecting food and ore. The Black Thread mount a major offensive against general Coralis’s forces, and take heavy losses to layered crossbowmen fire. After a short melee with the armored dwarven spear and ax units, they retreat back to their fort. A siege ensues.

Mercifully, while the siege itself proves quite incapable of dislodging the well-entrenched and equipped Black Thread forces, their raids ground to a near halt and the citizenry of both Throal and the Uld’ar are able to focus on rebuilding and growing their nations.

This does not last too long however for in the year 1091, after nearly 6 years of siege, new Black Thread raids strike at both the Uld’ar and Throal. These prove limited and pose no real threat but do illustrate that the Black Threads are able to operate despite the siege, though in limited numbers.

Throal ax skirmisher, medium spearmen infantry, medium axmen infantry, medium axmen infantry under general Coralis all damaged. Coralis’s crossbowmen, spear infantry, and ax infantry all gain experience. Throal’s homeland army axmen damaged, while its crosbowmen, axemen gain experience. Uld’ar javelin-skirmisher damaged. Uld’ar ax skirmisher gain experience.


Undead Hippus Mount More and More Elaborate Raids Upon Central Nations

Early in the spring of 1075 a new threat falls upon the farmers of the Palitante. Even as their elite ‘Chosen’ forces are ordered to take up defensive positions around the farms, several hundred winged creatures, half of shadow and half of flesh fall upon the farmers as they lay shuttered in their country homes. The creatures leave only dried husks and only strike the one night but their devastation is considerable; nearly 1 in 3 homes lose every member of their family. Those who survive the attacks, and they are few, can only speak of fluttering wings, glowing red eyes, strange familiar voices. Luckily the ‘Chosen’ arrive the following dawn and are able to take up defensive positions.

Meanwhile, under Lord Isidor’s prompting, a new Palitante leader arises,

“Lord, Isidor. I believe you have summoned me.” Alastor

“I have.” Isidor’s voice rang out from the dark. “You led my forces on the field on the days back during the revolution. Now I don’t see you leading around troops anymore, why’s that?”

“I have retired, my lord.”

A pair of eyes seemed to appear out of nowhere and locked eyes with Alastor’s. “Right,” Isidor’s voice answered. “And why’s that?”

“The people no longer needed me, my lord. I decided to…” the eyes disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

“Do you still think that?”

“My lord?”

“Do you still think that people no longer needs you?”

“My lor…”

“Answer the question.”

“…No. My lord.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed the voice. Alastor constrained his eyes towards the direction of the voice and managed to catch a glimpse of a sitting figure holding a glass of wine. “Consider yourself…a volunteer.”

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The Palitante forces under general Alastor prepare for the arrival of the Hippus undead but are faced with reduced numbers of the creatures. Perhaps their prior defenses have been enough to drive the enemy away…?

The same is true amongst the Kraz-ke-Meka and for many seasons the Luchuirp-inspired human tribe is free to oil their clockwork creations and expand their village some wee bit.

This all changes with the arrival, in 1089, of a new undead threat.


The undead hippus had taken many years to strike but had not been idle. They had managed to swell their numbers with the dead inhabitants of kaers breached long ago, of villages and cities, battlefields and graveyards buried in ancient ages. Officers had arisen amongst their number and whole divisions had been equipped with newly forged bows or blades. The corpses of Hippus mounts had been animated and cavalry divisions had been formed. It is with these forces that they fell upon the Palitante and Kraz-ke-Meka

They strike first at the Palitante, marching through both the night and the day, and are met with the hit and run-tactics of the Palitante slingers. Unfortunately for them, the undead archers are quick to return fire, even as sling bullets fall all about them. Though sling bullets prove very effective at breaking exposed bones, the undead archers have greater range and the slinger skirmishers are unprepared for return fire. They quickly rout in the face of superior enemy forces, giving up the eastern farms previously attacked by unknown creatures, as they do. The undead hippus horsemen are quick to take advantage of the situation and run down and surround the unarmed farmers, dragging them, screaming in terror, into the dark cloudless night.

General Alastor regroups his routed slingers and strikes again, this time much more carefully. Using their intimate knowledge of their home terrain, they strike from canyons and gullies, from river-banks and deep forests, then melt away. Isolated cavalry units giving chase to these skirmishing attacks are targeted by Palitante Chosen who strike with supernatural speed and strength. These attacks prove much more successful but with the city itself in full view of the diminished undead horde, General Alastor commands a final stand against the servants of distant Horrors. The battle is a desperate one but general Alastor proves an able commander and their previous hit and run tactics have done much to diminish the undead horde. The ‘Chosen’ alone are tasked with holding the line while the slingers target enemy officers. This proves a successful strategy for even as the ‘Chosen’ line wavers and breaks and undead horsemen stream through divisions of slingers, the fall of enemy leadership sends them into retreat.

The next attack by the undead army is upon the Kraz-ke-Meka, but they quickly find that this enemy has learnt how to build and equip its soldiers with iron scale and lamellar armor. Kraz golems and armored spearmen prove adept at holding a line against the horde of undead infantry even as the lighter Kraz infantry and javelin-skirmishers focus on preventing enemy cavalry from flanking them. Generally the tactic works fairly well but javelin-skirmishers prove less then successful in turning a determine cavalry charge and lightly armored spearmen prove adept pin-cushions for undead bowmen. Despite these loses, the golems and more heavily-armored spearmen manage to win the day.

Palitante ‘Chosen’ infantry and slinger skirmisher gain experience. Slinger unit, ‘Chosen’ damaged. One slinger unit lost. Population of western farm reduced to zero (needs 4 food and 2 hammers to recover to population 1). Kraz-ke-Meka skirmishers, light infantry wounded. Medium spearmen infantry, skirmisher javelineers gain experience.


Kharkush Assault Grey Gibbering Shadows Warrens

In Kharkush, the success of the ‘Stongest Son’ and his ax in defeating the raids of the grey gibbering shadows, and the call for aid form their neighbors the Nozkam Legon, prompt a call to ‘fulfill the legacy bestowed’ upon the strongest son, to hunt down and exterminate the shadows at their source.

The Shadows, of course, are not immediately aware of the incoming army of the Kharkush and continue their raids and strikes upon the Nozkam Legon. They, in turn, under the generalship of Juryias the spearmen, set up a system of non-combatant runners between their settlements to warn of incoming attacks and, calling upon their propensity and skill in tunneling, subterranean ‘raid shelters’ to hide in. Sure enough the first wave of Shadows soon strike and their magical confusion-inducing mutterings do much to disrupt the formations of Juryias’ spearmen but these quickly recover and are able to turn the enemy back. There are three such raids, each with similar results: Juryias’s spearmen are warned by runners, meet the enemy, take some losses, but eventually drive the shadows back. Just as the shadows begin adopting, in their third raid, flanking and feinting strikes, the raids cease. In the west, the Kharkush had arrived at the warrens of the shadows.


The Stongest Son’s army of slingers and spearmen are led by well-trained scouts. These are able to, somewhat and with difficulty, track the shadows back north into the isthmus. The process takes several years for it has been hundreds of years since man has walked these lands and the forests and mountains are raw and wild. As they travel, the raids of grey gibbering shadows become more and more frequent and in one particular evening much of one infantry division is carried away into the night. While most raids are repelled easily enough by the Strongest son and his magical ax, this particular raid struck using magical confusing attacks as the Strongest Son was busy with ‘camp maidens’. None-the-less, the Kharkush army arrives at the nest of the shadows mostly intact and with good morale.

The tracks of the raiding shadows lead into a thick forest on the northern shores of the isthmus and the Kharkush army is in excellent spirits as they enter the enemy nest. They quickly learn that the Shadows live in a series of soft earthen tunnels crisscrossing under the thick forest underbrush. Used to living in kaers, the orcs are not unsuited to tunnel fighting and take the battle directly to the heart of the enemy forces. Initial successes, much due to the personal combat prowess and divinely-inspired berserk fury of the ‘Strongest Son’ lead the Kharkush leadership into dreams of easy victory and thoughts of his victorious return to the village (and its maidens). Rushing ahead of his army, the Strongest Son is the first to find the gates of ancient kaer hidden deep inside the tunnels. Charging through, he encounters face-to-face, the leadership of the grey gibbering shadows.




It is the last his army sees of him. Their morale broken and without his leadership or magically-inspired battle prowess the infantry and slingers are easy prey to the hordes of shadows that press all around them from hidden tunnels and secret side-passages. The result is a complete rout. Orcs flee for their lives where they can and ultimately some, in their haste, flee east and some flee south. Now without leadership and divided, the Kharkush soldiers are in a very precarious position indeed. Only luck and quick thinking has allowed a lowly slinger to pick up the tribe’s ax as it was thrown from the mouth of the kaer gates.

Nozkam Legon: Two units of light spearmen infantry damaged. Two gain experience. Kharkush skirmisher slingers, scouts and light spearmen infantry damaged, another division of light spearmen infantry destroyed, scouts and light spearmen infantry gain experience. The ‘Strongest Son’ is slain (but the position reforms at the city). Kharkush army divided with each component being led by ‘Jim the Stand-In’ (though you can upgrade this to default Kharkush leadership during your next turn), one of which wields the ‘Strongest Son’s Ax’. (having Jim the stand-in lead your forces reduces their movement to zero; he also has a martial, naval, piety and arcane attribute of 5 less then your default – this is bad)



Utilica Spot Troll Galleys, Develops Flax Plantations

Amongst the northern isles the caste-divided Utilica finally spot signs of sentient life other then their own. Unlike most of the people of Errovus, they face not corrupted constructs of the Horrors or minor horrors in their own right; they face isolation and peace. The isolation at least, is broken in 1088, when northern miners spot troll-crewed galleys of their northern cliff-shores. Waving to the distant figures brings no response and the distant oarsmen quickly fade beyond the horizon. It is doubtful if the trolls even spotted the miners.

Meanwhile, other citizens of Utilica have domesticated wild-growing flax and begun to develop fibers and linen from it. Unfortunately, they have no market to sell their goods in and this is seriously undermining their efforts to develop any income thereof. Thankfully a minor cottage industry has developed to fill the gap until such time as a real linen-industry is prioritized.

Ulitica gain free flax-fiber cottage industry that will generate some small income from the plantation. Players are encouraged to note that trade goods don’t really produce income unless there are markets to sell them in.



Ice-Wyrm Tricked by the Tabba Ghut

Mogag the Ironwill vows that no child of his clan shall be handed over to the threatening wyrm. Instead, they shall develop an intricate plan to slay the creature and free their clan from its threats and violence.

To the wyrm, a message is sent, “You shall have your tribute; only let us live, oh great one!” Meanwhile several ‘grain-drying’ towers are erected around the city centre. These towers are filled with pitch, tar and the dry dust of harvested grains. The Tabba Ghut had well remembered the lessons taught by the magical fires of the ‘Immaculate’ (even if the moderator didn’t) and were keen to remind the wyrm of its distaste for fire. Throughout the village, clay pots were filled with tar, lamp oil, anything that might burn. Spearmen and javelin-throwers where hidden in huts around the city center.

Finally, when all was ready, a baby was placed upon an alter placed at the center of the ‘grain-drying’ towers and the great central bell was rung and rung and rung. Finally, just as dusk fell upon the village, the wyrm appeared.




The creature lands in the crowded city-square and turns upon the villages. Just as it opens its mouth to speak, one anxious and scared infantryman throws a tar-filled clay pot at the creature’s tail. For the Tabba Ghut, it is now or never. Mogag orders a general attack. Great ropes are pulled, collapsing the towers upon the dragon-like creature and torches are thrown upon the flammable mix. The creatures roars in pain and incants an arcane chant. Magical shockwaves pulse from the creature driving its attackers back and doing much to dislodge it from the collapsed towers. The villagers are not finished yet however. Using crudely constructed chains and long ropes, they throw heavy weights over the creature even as javelin-men courageously launch their volleys at the creature. Many blades are turned by its icy scales but others find critical spots weakened by fire and sink deeply into its flesh. Wounded and surprised, the wyrm strikes out with its mighty wings, buffeting scores of villages at once, its snaking tail, crushing civilians and soldiers without concern and its jagged claws, ripping infantry divisions in two and slaying many with each swipe. The worst it saves for the towers still flaming around it; it take a deep breath of super-heated shimmering air and with a mighty breath spews sleet and cold upon the flames, instantly dousing much of those on its left flank and bringing it much needed cooling relief from the flames.

It beats its wings and tries to take flight but the chains hold it fast. This doesn’t last long however for with one quick snap of its jaws it sunders the largest chain holding it. With the fate of the Tabba Ghut people in precarious balance, one woodsmen, not a soldier, not a hero, but desperate and enraged rushes through the flames of the wyrm’s right flank. His skin burning furiously and peeling away quickly, the woodsmen lifts his axe and with an unintelligible cry of pain and rage, cleaves the creature’s half-burnt wing from its shoulder in one mighty swipe. The ice-wyrm shrieks in pain and curses the Tabba Ghut with Kanna’s vengeance, flicks its tail to free itself from the remaining chains and unleashes another cloud of sleet and cold upon the remaining flames. The villages continue to throw javelins, rocks or whatever they can. Some of the bravest infantrymen, overcoming their dragon-fear close with the creature and stab at its burnt flanks with their sharp spears. Bleeding purple-white blood, its body of icy shard-like pieces melted, burnt and stabbed, the wyrm rushes the palisade, swiftly crawls over, leaving a trail of blood and what appears to be regular water, and launches itself into the river, swimming away as rapidly as it can.

The Tabba Ghut, despite their very serious and extensive losses are ecstatic. They have faced a dragon, a higher servant of the dark mistress, and they have emerged victorious. Mogag the Ironwill recovers the burnt and melted bones of the dragon’s wing. Without its icy shard-like armor, the bone is merely that, not ice, not some magical substance, but a bone, mighty for its size and what it represents, but a bone none-the-less.

Tabbe Ghut scouts damaged, one light spearmen infantry dead, the other damaged, javelin-skirmishers damaged. All surviving units gain experience. Village requires 5 hammers in repairs. Mogag the Ironwill gains +1 culture. Tabba Ghut gain ‘wing of the Ice-Wyrm’ a magical item that provides +1 martial and +1 culture to the leader who carries it with them (a hard task considering its almost 40’ long).



Corrupted Aifons Continue Raids

While the Achatin develop their faith, which they call the ‘Scath Talamh’, little of which is known to outsiders beyond a vaguely sinister dedication to dark places and empty subterranean halls, they are also developing new methods of defending themselves. Lightly armored infantrymen wielding newly forged swords and shields will form a mobile defense to assist the much more immobile Guardians of Achat while slingers and ax-throwing divisions will maintain their harassment and hit and run tactics upon the raiders.

It is not long before the new defenses are tested anew.


At first the raids are similar to those seen in the past, smaller but numerous strikes from several coastal areas striking simultaneously to harry and divide the defenders and probe for weaker points. The corrupted aifons know by now to avoid the Guardians of Achat and their near-impenetrable armor but they are not prepared for the swordsmen being deployed. Using unexpected combat methods and better equipped then the spearmen they faced in the past, these soldiers are willing and ready to face the creatures in hand to hand combat where their shields and swords prove very effective against the tridents, claws and scales of the enemy soldiers, especially when supported with flanking ax-throwers or slingers. Despite this, not all coasts can be defended in numbers and the corrupted aifons soon learn where to feint and where to strike in a concentrated fashion. None-the-less, the Achatin are well prepared and suffer few casualties…

… until the corrupted aifons start showing up with acolytes of the angel of pain. These priestesses of Kanna summon minor monstrosities from Ceridwen’s heavens, flying blood-sucking creatures that swarm the Achatin defenders disrupt their formations and allow the corrupted aifon to break through the ranks of the achatin line.


Despite these tactics, ultimately, the raids continue to be just raids and none manage to penetrate the Achatin defenses and carry away population.

Achatin light swordsmen infantry, javelin skirmishers damaged. Light swordsmen infantry, javelin skirmisher, ax skirmisher gain experience.



New Shadows Hide in the Deep Forests

Amongst the deep forests of the south, the continued fading of the great shadow of ceridwen’s heaven’s passing does much to bring peace and relative quiet to the land. The attack by the forest demons, though they continue, slow down. They continue to strike erratically and without real coordination.

Amongst the elves of Sjykalfar, a new general, the Araïlumni arises to lead the elven army. It is said that she alone walks unconcealed amongst the halls of the secretive elven court.


Under her leadership. The Sjykalfar are able to intercept the vast majority of attacks and raids by the minor horrors and though some soldiers are wounded and even killed, none of the civilian population is slain like in years past. As the attacks are reduced in quantity, perimeter patrols can range more widely and soon the Sjykalfar learn that most attacks originate from the south-west. Is it possible that the mysterious and mostly unknown Pilseta are somehow responsible for these creatures?

The Pilseta themselves also prepare for further attacks and their ranks of spearmen and javelin-skirmishers are well prepared for the minor onslaught. They too quickly determine the origin of the attacking forces. It seems that most of the nasty beasts originate form the north-east. Could the mysterious and mostly unknown Sjykalfar be responsible for sending these creatures?


Both the Pilseta and the Sjykalfar soon realize, with the passing of the minor horrors from these woods, they are not alone. Their scouts and hunters soon begin to meet each other, always staying a good distance away from one another. But that is not all. Other, previously uncovered creatures hide amongst the trees and shadows.


These figures are humanoid, vaguely undefined, semi-tansparent and both very shy and very curious of the elves and pilsetans.

Sjykalfar scouts damaged, light infantry damaged, all units gain experience. Sjykalfar gain new military leader; the Araïlumni Pilseta light spear infantry and formation spearmen damaged, javelin-skirmishers, damaged light infantry and formation spearmen gain experience.


Maps

Great. Now the undead have monstrously large vampire bats or something as well as archers.

Hmmm... Trolls, to pursue or ignore. Decisions, decisions.

wipes brow in relief
how to stop water-breathing, magical, mutant aifons at the source? casts Summon: Red Tide