...Some Say In Ice: The Roof of the World
Deus et natura nihil faciunt frustra!
The air is thin, here on the Roof of the World, yet it is here, in the Heart of Caelum, that I shall crush the fragile birdmen into dust, destroy their false idols, level their temples, and end the power of the Crone. Through the bright morning sun I see the banners of Caelum advancing over the crest of the mountain, and even as I order the Guard to prepare for the assault, the first arrows begin falling from the skies above, as the Blizzard Warriors take wing.
As my Sea Trolls tear through the massed ranks of midget infantry they are assaulted on all sides by heavily armoured Storm Guards, the elite close combat fighters of Caelum. The air cackles with the flailing lightning strikes from the High Seraphs, the masters of air magic, who strike my front lines with impunity. Behind my watery allies march ranks of Jotuns in phalanx, their long spears pointing towards the sun, a sea of wooden shafts that foils arrows with ease. Cruelly whittled down by the deadly disease, the remaining six members of the Niefel Guard cover the right flank and strike for the enemy rear.
Over the massed ranks Tjordulf and I send cold bolt upon cold bolt hurtling into the enemy’s infantry formations, but there are so many, so very many of them, even as we blot them out with impunity.
My wolven pets rend an over-ambitious iceclad limb from limb as it tries to strike me down by surprise, and I laugh as its bright steaming blood drenches the snow.
The infantry and mages of Caelum are taking a drastic toll on my Sea Trolls, yet even so, they are falling to my superior might. Even as the few remaining Trolls break ranks and scatter to the four winds, the Jotun Guard lowers their spears and charges into the massed ranks of the enemy. None can stand against them, and as panic spreads throughout the enemy ranks, their proud army is reduced to a mob. Alas, the surviving High Seraphs manage to take wing and escape, but the better part of their force is destroyed, and their land-bound troops are eradicated to the Last midget. The Glorious First Battle of the Himalayas sees winter triumphant!
We celebrate the great victory with a mighty feast, as food is now in great supply. Though the Trolls are all destroyed or fled, the Jotun Guard came through the battle nearly unscathed. Their valour is great! They will prove sufficient. Chosen pickets watch the Mountain Citadel from which the crone must be anxiously watching our progress, but tomorrow will be soon enough to invest the fortification.
How brief is peace, how fleeting tranquillity? The walls are damaged and will soon be torn down, and my domain is increasing in strength with each passing day, yet it seems that the Crone has summoned reinforcements to save the Raven’s Vale and her own skin. A scant month or two have passed, yet it is enough. On quick wings the word has spread and the might of Caelum has gathered from the corners of the world to retake their capital and save their false god before the fortress falls.
It is pathetic.
Again, we take up our weapons and prepare to meet the onslaught from the west and south, yet something is not as it was meant to be. A terrible omen is seen in the sky and rather than the swift sure cries of the Storm Guards heralding the coming of Caelum, the approaching armies appear to be land-bound! Trumpeting shatters quiet that has descended on the mountain, and the hidden and unsuspected might of Caelum advances over a broad front. Regiments of vile Caelum Sea Trolls, monstrously summoned away from their natural habitat to pursue the pretender’s deluded dreams of power, form a broad front. On their right, midget infantry. On their left, mammoths trained for warfare. Who could have known that the birdmen would have succeeded in enslaving such wondrous and powerful beasts? Magical serpents slither across the snow in their wake and behind them all, the magical might of Caelum. Seven High Seraphs, a host of lesser Seraphs, and several Seraphines, shed their light over the land-bound ranks.
It is possible that I have performed a slight miscalculation.
Orb lightning strikes my Jotun Guard shortly before the Sea Trolls charge into engagement range, and it is only the beginning. Of High Seraphs, there are seven, and they let loose with the full fury of their considerable magical arsenal, knowing that, should they fail, their cause will be lost.
Second battle of the Himalayas, Year 4 of the Ascension Wars
Of that troublesome day, I shall speak no more. Suffice to say that 80% of my armies fell, fighting to their Last, and that it took all my considerable powers to withdraw Tjordulf and the few survivors from the fray. Through mountains passes we strode, as fast as mortally possible, as we made our escape back through the provinces that we had subdued in such high spirits a season before.
The fools begin pursuit and they praise their victory in their abysmal ignorance. The will of the God will neither denied nor circumvented, as they will learn to their everLasting sorrow, the few who survive the harrowing that is to come.
I am the God, and I lived when the world was young, and I will not let some third-rate pretender deny me my destiny. It will take many months to rebuild the destroyed armies of Sea Trolls, yet I am sure Angerboda is even now carrying out her experiments. I shape a crimson dove of my desire and send it winging for Angerboda in Hebei. It contains a single order with cataclysmic impact.
“Open the Ether Gates”
[ February 28, 2004, 11:43: Message edited by: Peter Ebbesen ]
Re: Niefel AAR: "...Some Say In Ice"
) and summoning Sea Kings (three at this time, more to come), it is easy to see why the form the bulk of my forces at the moment.
Linear Mode
