Niefel AAR: "...Some Say In Ice"

[ManInGray]

hahaha.

[Sleepy]

Good start, I'm looking forward to the rest!

[Evil Dave]

Heh. It reads like Laumer's "The Last Command" so far.

[mjlaufgr]

All kidding aside, it looks like it will be a great ride. I'm a fan of your EU2 AARs, so I am looking forward to reading more! Thanks for taking the time to do this!


Mark

[Wendigo]

I like the tone of this AAR a lot, you can feel yourself inside the big guy's boots.

Reminds me of Karsa Orlong (sp?): "May you slay a thousand children!"

[Peter Ebbesen]

…Some Say In Ice: The Fall of Wei

As the enemy draw up their lines on the plains before me, I order Tjodulf to ready his men. The puny Jotuns take centre rank, while the two Jotuns hold the flank with an order to strike deep at the enemy rear. Tjodulf and I take up position immediately behind the front ranks. Thanks to the diminutive size of the Jotuns, I have an excellent view. At Last a positive aspect to these most stunted of giants.

In front of us dozens of heavy infantry backed by archers hold the centre while barbarian horse-archers ready for the kill. A Khan and an unmanned servant lead the armies of Tien Chi, a priest and a necromancer of some sort with flaming weapons and a host of spirits provide magical backup.

It is not enough.

As the arrows fall like hail on the Jotun ranks Tjordulf extends the blessing of my WORD in my NAME and the Niefel forces take heed. Power flows from me like a river as I increase their self-confidence, shield them with my divine magic, and bless them with the speed of the blizzard. The two of them tear through the screen of cavalry and fall on the enemy rear.

Meanwhile, I laugh with joy as I launch an unending stream of balls of ice and frost over the Jotun ranks and into the heart of the enemy formation.

I am awake again and none can stand against me.

But soon, too soon, the glorious battle is over and the enemy fleeing, though few survive the fleet pursuit of the giants. Few indeed, but enough. Enough to tell the unexpecting world that the giants are on the march. The necromancer does not escape. In mortal pain, he reveals himself as a Master of the Dead, a lowly functionary in the Divine Order of Tien Chi, and he tells me of this order and of the barbarians he serve.

And he tells me of the barbarian god. In ancient times the barbarians were a constant but in general negligible danger to the empire, as the clans spent most of their time fighting each other. Two hundred years ago, a great mage arose from the ranks of the Shamans, outstripping them in power like the sun unto the moon, and he made a pact with infernal forces selling his soul, not once, but twice, and he united the clans, and he conquered.

Yet, in his very hour of victory, as the Prince of Heaven expired on the Throne of Heaven, the mage was struck down by divine lightning from the heavens above. The devils who rushed to gather his twice-damned soul were frustrated in their goals, however, as he transcended death as a lich of incredible powers. Foreswearing its powers of blood for those of the lord of the Underworld, the lich tore the devils to shreds and continued its quest for supremacy where the man had left off. Now, in the fullness of its powers, it is worshipped by the masses, a master of death and fire, has assumed divine powers, and it attempts to bring the world under its sway.

These things happen all the time.

Yet it will be a hot day in Niefelheim before I let such trivialities stop me. The masters of fire have ever been my true enemies, whether alive or dead; Even undead, as the case might be. I will scatter its essence and end its legend.


Casualties having been light, with only two Jotuns dead at the arrowpoints of those cowardly archers, I order the men to bandage their wounds and get ready for the march on Hebei, the Imperial City, and the Throne of Heaven. I also let my WILL be made manifest back in Niefelheim, and the Jotuns begin digging out more of my Niefel guard from days of old. The Jotuns have proven to be unexpectedly fragile, so I might need a REAL army one of these days.

We march south.


-----------------------

• mjlaufgr - Diplomacy is NOT an option. Only the unconditional surrender of my enemies is.
• Evil Dave - Thanks! While I have not read Keith Laumer's "Last command" short story, I will take that as high praise given the consistently high quality of his work.
• Wendigo - "May you slay a thousand children" indeed. That was the cry of an untutored youth from a backwards society, and obviously not applicable to the dynamic forwards-looking Jotun society of this day and age. Even if they are puny in size.

[Peter Ebbesen]

…Some Say In Ice: The Throne of Heaven

“Then came he from the North and smashed the Throne of Heaven, and by his act divided old from new” – the Omega Question


Supplies are low.

The fleet inhabitants of T’ien C’hi are able to evade the foraging parties with distressing ease. As I suck the marrow from an oxe, I am minded that my men are getting uncomfortably lean. Yet my presence boosts their morale. What true soldier can remain dejected when his god walks with him?

Thus morale remains high, despite the crippling disease that has afflicted most of the survivors of the failed attack on Hebei. Failed? Yes, in my heart I must remain honest. No tactical retreat, no advancement in retrograde, but defeat, hated defeat.

A shame, really. After two months of siege, the fortified city was on the verge of falling, but who was to know that so many soldiers remained? Truly, their number of soldiers appears incalculable. Forty dead in the first skirmish, fifty in the second, and, finally, some eighty soldiers led by several Celestial Masters attacking Last month. It proved too much. Casualties were high. Ten invaluable Jotuns slain on the field of battle, their puny frames incapable of withstanding the arrows and glaives of T’ien C’hi..

I will not accept this. It will not be. Reinforcements from Siberia are marching to our relief even as I speak, six of my Niefel guard and 4 Jotuns, and my emissaries have gone out to seek the aid of mercenary archers. Though it tears my heart, I will have to rely on midgets for my next attack. Fortunately, their limited intellects should be able to understand their job. With mercenaries suppressing the enemy archers, the Niefel giants should be able to press the attack.

And I have an extra advantage.

Angerboda has been rounding up some sage midgets, and have had them working on spell research. When I enter battle next time, I will be quickened as I launch my cold bolts, and the enemy will freeze.

It will be so.


And so it came to pass. With mercenary scum eliminating the enemy archers, Tjordulf was able to goad the guard into a battle frenzy destroying all three T’ien C’hi armies that sought to hinder our return to the imperial city, and in front of the imperial city, with our bridges burned and the enemy hot on our heals, we tore down the walls, and we charged through the streets slaying all who would stand against us and all who impeded our progress, and we reached the Palace of Heaven itself.

Through waves of magic that sought to tear them apart, the guard stormed the Palace of Heaven, and it slew the Lich’s guard and crushed its bones, evil misbegotten thing that it was, and they carried the day. In serried ranks they stood, four Niefel giants to a side, as I strode through the Palace and came unto an exquisite hall, the banners of a thousand families hanging from the walls, and in the centre of the hall, the Throne of Heaven, a pitiful man-shaped throne, perhaps, but one of immense symbolism to the natives.

I smashed it with a single blow of my fist and I let slip my ice and my cold, and the hall froze, and I scattered the ashes of the lich to the four winds, and I saw that it was good. Though the lich was to return for battle many times, each fight would see it diminished and destroyed.

Now, with the Throne of Heaven fallen and the power of T’ien C’hi broken, it is time to re-establish the lines of contact with the Jotun home and to take all that belonged to the Khans. It is said that far to the west, in Golden Samarkand, the Khans still rule, and I know that their writ is still accepted in most of Eastern Asia, but now is the time to reap the rewards of my toil.

Rewards, yes, but also a time to prepare for war. On my western border, a nation born under a lucky star and led by astrologers seems intent on conquering, and it is rumoured that the winged folk of Caelum controls the central Asian highlands. The people of Hebei also tell of an ancient star that fell into the world-sea and spawned a race of monsters, the R’lyeh, who prey on them even to this day: Myth or legend? Time will tell.

For now, a gentle campaign to reclaim Siberia would seem in order.

Fall, Year 2 of the Ascension Wars