Having had time to settle into the mountains, defense of the gray peaks has become a rather familiar task for the troops stationed there. The peaks are utterly obscured in clouds, and though our Gust of Wind can dispel them for a time, they return with an annoying frequency. A little bit of fog wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the arrows cascading down through the cover. Our troops use what cover they can as they approach, but ultimately we're forced to turn back. Our horses, at home in the desert sands and plains to the east, can't find purchase on the rocky terrain. Even our storms seem more inclined to strike the lofty peaks than they are to bite at enemy troops. The battle is short, unfortunate, and uninspiring. They will hold the mountains another year, and likely for many years to come so long as we fail to gain a foothold.
Arstotzka easily maintains control of the Mountains.The plains...however.
The plains are a different story.
Calvary, the heavy artillery of the medieval era, were once limited to minor nobles and knights. Restricted to critical battles and the relatively less-risky skirmishes that preceded them, most combats have consisted of boots on the ground slugging it out. This is no longer the case for Moskurg, however; our horses, once only used for skirmishes, are now seeing use in pitched combat. Though lightly armored, entire divisions of the troops have crashed into the slow, heavily armored troops that make up Arstotzkan battle lines over and over again. Horsemen charge in, snap their lances off in the chests of Arstotzkan troops, then resort to lashing out with sword and spear. Arstotzka is pitiful in every engagement, and are easily crushed each and every time. Those who aren't run down quickly surrender, and once relieved of their armor and weapons are immediately handed back. Some men point out that we can never hope to win if we never kill our enemy, but many seem relieved to know fighting for ones country isn't a death sentence.
Though our cavalry isn't quite as good as Arstotzka's, we outnumber them so soundly it doesn't even matter. Horses leap through walls of flames, and though a few brave souls tumble from their saddles wreathed in fire the rest charge through their ranks like demons. Our horses chase them all the way to the border, stopping just shy of Arstotzkan home soil.
Moskurg has maintained control of the plains.Something unusual happens in the jungle. Warm rain typically falls year-round, but the air has grown chill. Rain varies from freezing cold to a modest lukewarm - even briefly snowing for a time. Far to the north, an ominous tower rises above the treetops, overlooking the sea of green around it. Chanting can be heard from miles around, and a light shines from the top like a glorious beacon.
Naturally, the Moskurgs attack it.
The assault is preluded by a roiling, thundering storm. Arstotzkan soldiers grip their swords tightly, having learned by now that the dark skies mean trouble. All eyes are turned south, peering through the chill rain towards the suspiciously dry swath of land, ears straining for the inevitable whistle of a Moskurg arrow.
Lightning strikes the tower, and the attack commences in earnest.
Black figures pour out from under the trees. Rain mixes with arrows, some pelting off the tower and others sinking into the eye slits of helmets with alarming frequency. Another crack of thunder lights up the field for a brief second, illuminating a disorganized swarm of horsemen and infantry rushing through the undergrowth. Just as quickly the world is plunged back into the dim light of the storm. Arstotzkan longbowmen make good use of the height advantage of the tower and the momentary illumination to sink their arrows into the shadows below. Screams and the sound of rending metal fill the ears of every man in the area, but over it all the fury of Myark can be heard.
"AL-MUTRIQA!"
Standing atop the tower, singed and glowing with an eerie light, stands the fabled Mage of the North. A blast of fire leaps from the tip of his wand, blowing a crater into the foliage below. In the illuminated glow of magical fire the legendary red, gold, and purple cape of al-Mutriqa flashes with sheer insolence. His horse stumbles, throwing him from his saddle. He lands hard, his black scale mail clattering as he bounces through the greenery. Immediately walls of fire leap up around him, hemming him in. In the chaos of battle, no other Moskurg soldier notices their hero trapped like the rat he is.
"This is where it ends." Only the mages closest to Myark heard him say this, for it was little more than a whisper over the maelstrom of noise that surrounds the tower. His hand raises, wand clasped in his grasp. On the ground al-Mutriqa does the same. The world stills for this brief second, as though the Gods themselves were holding their breath. But before either could strike the weather beat them both to the punch.
A bolt of lightning crashes down into the tower not a few feet from where Myark was standing. The explosion of super-heated plasma sends him and the stone bricks he was standing on off the side, and they all come crashing down into the foliage below. The sudden disruption of the delicate, carefully-drawn spell circles on the roof of the tower resulted in a second, much slower explosion. Were Myark still standing atop the tower he might have been able to prevent the cook-off of magical power slowly growing out of control, but without him there was little the wizards left could do. The top of the tower flashes briefly.
The explosion sends mortar, brick, and bodies sailing into everyone standing around the tower with an indiscriminate violence. Unfortunately, it was mostly Arstotzkan troops standing nearby. Plate armor absorbs a good portion of the debris, but with their hero wounded and most of their mages dead the troops have no option other than to retreat. Myark is hauled off the battlefield by one of the surviving squads, and they manage to abscond with him. He will live.
Myark has been gravely wounded and will not fight next year.
Moskurgs gain ground in the jungle.
The oceans are locked in stalemate, as usual. Though we are turned away more often than not, Arstotzkan sailors can't press our advantage. Their ships are too slow, and it's easy for our boats to remain just out of range. Both sides have some minor success, but no progress is made one way or anther.
The Seas remain deadlocked.It is 917, the Design Phase.Northern Taiga: 4/4 Arstotzka
Central Mountains: 4/4 Arstotzka
Western Jungle: 1/4 Arstotzka, 3/4 Moskurg
Eastern Plains: 4/4 Moskurg
Southern Desert: 4/4 Moskurg
Northern Sea: Arstotzkan
Western Sea: Disputed
Eastern Sea: Disputed
Southern Sea: Moskurger
Mundane Equipment
Sabre: Officer weapon. A single-edged blade that favours cavalry combat over infantry combat. Requires training to wield, one-handed. Expensive.
Spear: General infantry weapon. Essentially a dagger on a long stick. Very cheap, requires minimal training to use. Can be used double-handed, or single handed with a light shield. Cheap.
Buckler: General infantry equipment. A small iron shield, held in one hand. Only protects a small area, but can be wielded alongside a shield. Moderate cost, requires training to wield properly.
Padded Armour: General infantry armour. Very cheap, just layers of cloth, but doesn't protect against much. Well ventilated in hot conditions, though. Cheap.
Scale Mail: Officer armour. Scales of steel on a leather backing. Expensive, but lighter than chain mail. Expensive.
Recurve Bow: General infantry weapon. A light bow composed of laminated wood and horn, curved backwards to provide more force. Inexpensive enough to equip many troops with, with very reasonable medium range and power. Can be wielded by horse archers. Tendency to break limbs when strung.
Arabian Horse: A light riding horse, from short-lived Iberian settlers in the past. Very fast and manoevrable, but not too strong. Expensive.
Horse Breeding Program: Mass amounts of horses available. Tend to do poorly in the desert, and aren't quite as high quality as the Arabian Horses. Cheap.
Lances:[/i] Essentially a heavily upgraded spear. Has a tendency to splinter after the first use. Cheap.
Sailing Ship: Wind-propelled wooden ship. Fast, requires minimal crew, cannot carry many passengers. Very Expensive.
Magical Equipment
Wand of Heroism: Makes a squad fight beyond human levels. A National Effort.
Detect Ambush: Reveals non-magical ambushes prepared by enemy troops or physical traps.
Lucky Strike: Magical guidance makes a squad shoot or strike true far more often than usual. Expensive.
Detect Thoughts: Read the mind of an enemy commander to determine their tactics ahead of time. Very Expensive.
Teletalk: Short-ranged psychic communication between mystics. Enough beacons can be produced to outfit an army. Expensive.
Gust of Wind: Evokes physical force to create a heavy gust of wind, sufficient to disperse fog and most minor concealments, as well as disperse irritating swarms. Expensive.
Cyclone Shield: Protects the beneficient from most arrows and some blows with a sheath of wind. Expensive.
Storm Strike: Summons heavy rain and winds over the course of a day. Very Expensive.
Clear Weather: Negates inclement weather within the given area. Nests within Storm Strike for protection.
Hammer of Allah: Induce lightning from summoned storms. Strikes indiscriminately, so can't be used in "danger close" situations.
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Topic: Wands Race - [Moskurg] {COMPLETED} (Read 186451 times)