Welcome to Survival

“They Come…”

The battle was hard to take in. Swirling clouds of dust and rain obscured the tumult below.

Bringing his army down through the jagged peaks surrounding Nighteye and woodlands tainted by wylds magic, Duncan Just had halted his command in order to observe the slaughter from the highlands.

Over the jagged treetops, Duncan Just and his golemic generals, his shard knights, his muten and other augmented ….. Waited, in comparative silence. Their lord sat atop his spine-engine intent on the tableau. His crystal eyes set, his demeanour… utterly focused on taking in all the detail of the ebb and flow of war.

The d’rough were adept bringers of death. They were ice, they were darkness. Their ranks were cold, determined, but murderous joy danced across their faces as they licked their thin lips in the delicious taking of life. Tall elegant watchtowers had been constructed about the d’rough capital. Bulbous silos designed for nothing bar beatific war anointed their tops, each glowing with spectral light like ghostly lanterns. The dark parapets swarmed with rotations of d’rough rogues armed with crossbow, longbow or older devices of war. Sheets of bolts, arrows and more esoteric missiles scythed into the augmented below.

Between the towers looming protection, loose formations of fey held their ground with graceful but deadly choreography. Locking their great-shields they thrust and impaled the minor golems and Dark Iron Dverg, unable to miss their targets in so great a press.

The shadow queen’s murderers, the One Gods champions clearly took pleasure in their wet work but never did they lose themselves in the bloody moment, break formation or push on into the valley to build on their success. When their commanders called them back to their lines, the d’rough retreated, the rings of their armour chiming like silver bells with their return.

Duncan Just watched as razor sharp clouds of missiles hammer the battlefield, cutting through wode etched d’verg and red robed augmentor troops and vat grown soldiers with impunity

Groups of dagger wielding assassins vaulted through the carnage with the grace of acrobats, finishing tribals and shard kin marauders with consummate ease. Their speed and agility was such that they almost blurred through the sodden air, no augmented could touch them, let alone lay steel upon their flesh. As fast as they had appeared, they withdrew just before the strafing death of ritual fire and the dark energies was unleashed by the d’rough cadres atop the towers.

The flanks of the augmentor army were savaged by fey skirmishers, slashing and shooting, then lapping back like angry waves chipping at chalk cliffs. Lios war veterans swathed in leafy cloaks sent pallid shafts arching from cover to strike golemic praetorians as they tried to instil order upon the fight.

All the while the Nighteye Citadel loomed above the battlefield like some crouching demon.

The d’rough were putting up a staunch defence of their home. The garrison was drilled to perfection and their spirited guardianship of the one remaining stronghold of their people.

Duncan Just nodded in sublime approval. The fey may be weak of mind and slender of body, but by the departed, they could fight when cornered

Leading his horde from the west, down the valley side and through the bleak woodland, Duncan Just knew that he too would have to face the same d’rough defences. He had little desire to aid in the actual assault. But his ritual might, could well be brought to bare.

He gestured to his cadre, they scuttled and lurched to obey….within minutes wagons were stripped and a portable silo, billowing sparks and steam had been erected. Just ascended and beckoned his contributors…..things needed to be balanced.

Whilst his lord began his supernatural work, Iron Lord Grymlocke trotted forward on his augmented steed. Digging his man-leather boots into the shard-boar’s sides, the d’verg warjarl led his similar mounted clansmen down the valleyside.

Tinker hounds, Shard Retainers and Spikemen of the clan followed on foot. The dvergish host set up a cacophony of brutish rage driven sound.


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