Post by winstonsmith on Apr 26, 2014 14:00:42 GMT
Just wanted to say thanks to ShaoGore for the battle yesterday. The amount of fire power you sent my way was truly terrifying! Had your cannon not misfired on its first turn, and a few dice rolls gone your way, it could have been a very different outcome. Really enjoyed it. Hope you like the report.
From the lonely shadows of the crumbling ruin the warlock chittered inanely. So quick they had come, so quick to wrath. Their unfathomable rage had overwhelmed the spiteful schemes of the skaven utterly. A storm of merciless hate.
Oh he had hurt them, yes, yes he had hurt them; but the hurting had not nearly been enough. His malevolent sorcery had scorched them with warp fed malice. Sinister engines of war had consumed others with blistering flame, and globes of poisoned misery had slain yet more, uncaring that the fell vapours smote skaven and iron clad warriors alike. Such a savage onslaught should have unmanned them but the advance of the northmen did not waver. He had sent hordes of chittering clanrats to do battle against a monstrous chariot that tore its bloody path through the undergrowth. He watched them swarm over the warmachine like a verminous tide, their eyes wide with terror but helpless to their fate. He watched them slow its blood soaked advance, slow the enemy but not stop them as they were ultimately torn asunder. And then the undergrowth of the gorge recoiled as warriors of Khorne, blistered and blackened, fell upon the warlock. Many had fallen to the vicious fusillade of the skaven, but as they closed with the wizard his courage failed him. Yes, yes, many had fallen; but not nearly enough!
From the lonely shadows of the crumbling ruin the warlock chittered inanely. And in his broken, shattered mind the lonely shadows whispered back to him plots of spiteful revenge.
From the lonely shadows of the crumbling ruin the warlock chittered inanely. So quick they had come, so quick to wrath. Their unfathomable rage had overwhelmed the spiteful schemes of the skaven utterly. A storm of merciless hate.
Oh he had hurt them, yes, yes he had hurt them; but the hurting had not nearly been enough. His malevolent sorcery had scorched them with warp fed malice. Sinister engines of war had consumed others with blistering flame, and globes of poisoned misery had slain yet more, uncaring that the fell vapours smote skaven and iron clad warriors alike. Such a savage onslaught should have unmanned them but the advance of the northmen did not waver. He had sent hordes of chittering clanrats to do battle against a monstrous chariot that tore its bloody path through the undergrowth. He watched them swarm over the warmachine like a verminous tide, their eyes wide with terror but helpless to their fate. He watched them slow its blood soaked advance, slow the enemy but not stop them as they were ultimately torn asunder. And then the undergrowth of the gorge recoiled as warriors of Khorne, blistered and blackened, fell upon the warlock. Many had fallen to the vicious fusillade of the skaven, but as they closed with the wizard his courage failed him. Yes, yes, many had fallen; but not nearly enough!
From the lonely shadows of the crumbling ruin the warlock chittered inanely. And in his broken, shattered mind the lonely shadows whispered back to him plots of spiteful revenge.
