Battles 1&2

Prince Khorandis marched on through the Badlands, his gleaming armour reflecting the glory of his warhost in every curved plate. They had been marching for two days and it was then, as they made their way swiftly through a narrow valley that they heard the howls of two legged beasts upon the cliff tops.

“Ogres,” said Vraitel, the champion of the Dragon Princes with whom Khorandis rode. “How can this be? We were told that the undead inhabited this region!”

“Evidently the winds of fate have blown us off course!” Khorandis replied bitterly. “Prepare for battle!”

Woe betide Khorandis’ host that day, for the horde of ogres rolled over them, not as from any strategy but simply with the animalistic instinct to march straight forward and crush any they found underfoot, and that they did.

“Beasts!” Khorandis hissed from the back of his barded steed as he saw the last of his regiments crumpled underfoot. They had come to this fight unprepared and understrength but as Khorandis turned his back on the field of battle, he swore that he would see the ogres’ blood spilled in a great river of vengeance.

LOSS

Elsewhere the territory the elves had taken came under attack themselves by yet more ogres. Calistari the moon-sage summoned all her powers of healing and potency but the ogres overran them all the same. Her bodyguard, the sword masters of Hoeth, received the blessing of her magic and felt their bodies become as hard as great oaks and yet still the ogres slaughtered them without breaking step.

The regiments of spearmen similarly received Calistari’s attention and likewise became tougher than any elf ought to be and at the same received powers of regeneration and yet still the ogres crushed them easily. All the while, a trio of repeater bolt throwers uselessly sank bolt after bolt into the ranks of the ogres without felling even a single one of their number.

LOSS