Help!! I'm feeling oppressed

[1000yd_stare]

I did go heavy on the drain, at least 2, can't recall right now.
I have been concentrating on undead horse, as well. My main tactic, probably well used by others, is a buffer line out in front of infantry (soulless, longdead, ghouls, etc) while the undead horse close in from each flank, attacking rear. Routing the enemy because I am on the flanks and rear and have caused 2 deaths usually saves my troops from being totally hacked to pieces, as has been the case with most of my encounters with Abysia.
As for you, Unwise_Jotun_Leader, my need for research ability might be easily gained by taking over that library of yours...

[Wauthan]

There there, save that precious hostility for the game. It would be really great if both of you could make a small summary AAR when the game is over. It's only rare moments that I have time to play MP games so it would be neat to hear others experiences.

[ywl]

In case you don't know yet, Ghoul is the only non-mindless low level undead. The other mindless undead count only 1/10 while defending a castle. You'll be seiged... no matter how well you play. Ghouls will be your life-saver in such situation.

You cannot reanimate under seige, but you can cast spells and "summon ally" to create troop. Something to pay attention to.

For the other players, so that nobody can blame us for helping only one side . There is one easy formula versus the undeads: putting some cheap unroutable (Vine creatures, seasonal spirits), or expendable units (cheap archers) at the front while your priests behind actually doing the job. A 200+ undead army can be totally eliminated at no time. Also, a castle battle is deadly to the undeads no matter which sides of the wall they're at. The bottleneck stops their advance. Therefore, the priests can banish many before the undeads can even reach them.

[1000yd_stare]

Opening AAR to turn 26 follows (read between the lines for details, all numbers correspond to real stats):
--------------------------------------------
It is the 26th month of our Prince's rule. I myself have only recently joined the Prince; he understands the use of armies far better than
the arcane mysteries. For this reason, our grove was not established until after the falling out with the norse giants. Since then, our
numbers have increased each month.

We serve our lord in a capacity we are not used to, that of research. Some of use, however, are useful to our lord in other ways.
I myself have led a horde of half-men, half-fish for a time, watching remorselessly as those who did not sucuumb to the enemy fell to our
Prince. He knows well that in order to prosper, his realm must grow. We now march our armies over thirty provinces, counting among them two
fortresses and Marginon's capital, under siege by our Prince.Three months ago Malchaka fell beneath our onslaught, but the norse giants
took thier sacred home on the other side of the frozen mountain wastes. My prince was content with that, for the moment.

For we had stumbled upon the bloodletters, and crushed them in a swift campaign. Thier obsidian armed corpses rose to join us as ghouls as we marched south. We rudely surprised the hotones, who had just besieged the bloodletters home. Swiftly the hotones attacked, only to fall left and right to our relentless march. Only once were they successful, when a flying creature sneaked in to butcher one of our Mound Kings.

Thereafter the Prince ordered that all commanders should be surrounded by a retinue, and ordered his bishops to create special guardians; Lictors, so I am told. Shortly thereafter our relentless advance brought us to the Inquisitors; our advance armies barely noticed them, they were so weak. Our Prince, however, was not fooled. Forwarned by diabolical forces from beyond, he directed our armies to encircle this potentially fatal enemy. We concentrate, determined to enshroud the Mariginon Prentender in the cloak of death.

You may wonder why I am still alive. I wonder as well- for I have seen men fall three times as often of the pox and other illnesses than in
other lands. Magic is twice as hard to use; and I feel the slightest twinge of unluck in this barren land of still death. But there is no denying that this lands dominion is the most powerful there can ever be- tenfold over any of those squabbling independent states. You scoff, I see. You do not know the power of the dominion. For even now the hotones grow weak, thier field army inwreathed by my Prince's aura. Our spies report the destruction of their fortress, while their numbers have fallen by three score in a month.

The Prince? A strong arcanist, is he. Dabbling in Air, he is a seventh circle Astral and Death mage. Unfortunately, in his zeal, he has negelected the libraries in favor of the graveyards. We have barely scratched the first level of learing in most schools; and our leaders are more concerned with the horsement clattering off to war than trying to decide summoning or constructing paths.

Sometimes, in the few moments I am not chained to my reading stool, I dream. The Prince is clearly new to this realm, wrinkling his brow when trying to understand why magi cannot continously cast without rest. He is easily adept at the battlefield, manuvering armies back and
forth, and he has mentioned with happiness the lack of something called 'logistics'.

Oh, you wish to know why I am here? See those workers? Even now, as some of them drop from the scaffolding, you can see it take shape. A
vast temple, dedicated to the Prince. Only two provinces away the norse have attacked, treacherously advancing at our border fortress. This temple will help remind the giants that the Prince's shadow is long, as they starve in the desert, watching the horizon as the 3 armies
raised for this eventuality march to seal thier doom. Surely, the forces we bring are weak; corpses stirring in rusted gear, zombies and
ghouls. The vast legions of horsemen, while very mobile, are soon hurled through the sky by the comtemptous giants. But, for every bone
they crush, every dusty skull split, ten more rusty spears pierce thier cold hides. For the dead walk our realm, and there is nothing the
living can do but die and join them...

[ February 21, 2004, 01:50: Message edited by: 1000yd_stare ]

[Demosthenes]

Originally posted by 1000yd_stare:
But, for every bone
they crush, every dusty skull split, ten more rusty spears pierce thier cold hides. For the dead walk our realm, and there is nothing the
living can do but die and join them...

nice.

[1000yd_stare]

My Prince stands on a high mount, buffetted by the winds. Above him, the prize he seeks, and so richly deserves. Below, the abyss he emerged from, which did not let him go lightly.
It has been two months since I Last spoke in this tongue. Ask not why my voice is so raspy nor my breath foul; you do not wish to know of what I eat in my Prince's barren domain.
The frozen giants have been evicted from the Malachakan home; they promptly returned and dug siege lines around it. Do they think to starve my Prince's troops out? Even as they sit, the force inside grows. The shadows of my Prince will move among them, soon enough. The taking of the castle was a trival matter, as it happened on the same month that saw the Mariginon pretender die. More than three hundred of my Prince's brainseekers ringed the home of the Inquisitors; fully a third of them were horsed, and they were honored to lead the advance. They leapt through the gate, brushing aside the milita and a few odd humans with over-long spears; then they dealt with the crossbowmen. Outside, great holes were rent in the sea of undead. The Inquisitors had learned the rites of Banishment well, and although our Prince casted his own sorcerous protections and burned the minds and bodies of the enemy, he could not stop them all. Fully half of the army perished before entering the castle grounds.
Once there, they were greeted with a strange sight. A disembodied head, wreathed in flame, gouted fire at my Prince's minions, melting them were they stood. Those that were left struck the apparition, to see their tiny weapons inflict the barest scratches before they too were engulfed in the inferno. Relentlessly, the minions attacked, walking into a caludron of flame to hopefully scratch the pretender with thier rusted arms. Finally, the head gave a great moan of dispair, something I have grown accustomed to hearing, and disappeared.
But there was no rest for us.
Abysia stirred, perhaps by the entreaties of the Inquisitors. The smoky presence of a hundredfold army has just now penetrated into my Prince's domain. The hotones seek battle, but before we grant his wish, we will draw him in a bit more...make him hunger a bit more...make him weaker a bit more... make them come to my Prince a bit faster.

What of the land beyond the Barrier Mountains? Of the bitter fight under the seas, something my Prince calls 'Rommels show?' Of the death of the frost giants king? These I will speak of another time. For my Prince has learned that we can help more directly with his armies. He wishes us to swell the depleted ranks with those corrupted humans who still hunger. I must go, and deal with them- oh how I long for my days of reading the tomes...

[Pirateiam]

Good Read! Well one human down 2 to go right?Abysia is the only one that has a chance to stop you.

[Pirateiam]

Originally posted by Unwise:
What?

Ye have little faith. You can't count out the giants until the fat hag sings.

The reason I said that is that if he took out the faction that is his biggest threat (Marignon - which should own Ermor) the only other decent threat to undead is fire - Abysia
I wish you luck and I hope you are pumping out priests like a chicken lays eggs!

[ February 21, 2004, 17:24: Message edited by: Pirateiam ]

[Unwise]

What?

Ye have little faith. You can't count out the giants until the fat hag sings.