Grand Plains (Location C)

[Max Dirks]

The Grand Plains are named after the Grand Army of Alerar, the clan who finally nestled power group control away from the Purifiers. The plains are wide open and covered with low grass. The plains are so large that multiple armies could be crossing the plains and never catch sight of one another.

This, ironically, is Thoracis' starting position.

Round two begins at 3:00 PM CST. Good luck to everyone involved.

[Thoracis]

Colonel Glass had rarely left Thoracis’ side since the fiasco at the Gisela River. Though the stall tactics of their enemies had brought about the end of the conflict before the real battle had begun, the General was nevertheless impressed with the Colonel’s quick thinking and strategy where his other officers had failed. Glass was well aware of the ire his attention was drawing from the Aleranians who sought Thoracis’ ear at all times, but for the career soldier from the Yarborough Province of Gisela, it was an opportunity he could not pass up. There was a time when Glass had been the most prominent military student in all of Corone, let alone Gisela, graduating at the head of his class by a mile. Yet even with all the accolades and honors, he had never been able to advance further then Colonel of the Yarborough Cavalry Division, a fine post, no doubt, but not enough for the man whom they once said might make the finest General that Corone had ever seen. Glass knew this was possibly his last chance to prove himself as the soldier he always knew he could be.

Thoracis had been very forthcoming with his plans for the future. Gisela would not be the end of this campaign, he had said, and men like Glass and his cavalry would be vital to his success. Exact plans hadn’t been laid before him, but it seemed quite obvious to Glass that his General planned to build their strength and move against Alerar. Most people knew of Thoracis’ blunder at the Battle of Valinatal. What most military minds knew was that the young general was forced to march on Raiaera with little more then the army he now commanded while the majority of the Aleranian forces under Lord General Vordutin were held back by Queen Valsharess. Thoracis had been doomed to fail from the beginning and then all the blame for Alerar’s failure was placed on him as he was exiled from his home. He knew that following Thoracis on a mission of vengeance was foolhardy, but the reward was far greater then the risk for the ambitious Colonel Glass.

“You’ve been quiet this morning.”

Though much smaller then Glass, the form of Thoracis still loomed over him from atop his massive warhorse. The icy gaze which came from beneath the black porcelain mask was unsettling. “Yes, Sir. I’ve been thinking. Do you know where we are?”

“No, but you do.”

Glass smiled. Being from Gisela had proven him and his men useful to Thoracis as well. They knew the lay of the land, an advantage that would prove especially useful this day. “I do, Sir. We’re just east of Gisela City.” Glass pointed to the west, “That’s Dragon Master forest. Through there is the city.” He turned his attention before them. “We’re on the plains that separate the city and forest from the desert north and east of here. Directly to the north the plains thin out into a peninsula. We’re in a very advantageous position, Sir. This time around we’ll be able to maneuver properly.”

Thoracis looked troubled despite the Colonel’s optimistic take on things. “Perhaps Colonel, perhaps.” Scanning the horizons he took in everything Glass had said. “Yet we could be sitting ducks for our enemies to close in on us from all sides. I’m disturbed that we’re this close to the city as well. It doesn’t sit well with me. Something isn’t right.”

“On the contrary, Sir. The fact that we are so close to the city is a blessing. Surely there is no army marching from the city. If there was there is only one passable route through the center of the forest. We will not be easily attacked from the west. There is an arid region in the center of these plains where the grass simply stops. If we position ourselves correctly we could force any attack from the west to go around it or be slowed by sandy grounds to get to us. To the north our enemies will be coming from the desert, which I suspect at least one of them will have to be. Their movement will already be hampered from that dreadful journey and they’d have to cross a land bridge to do it. The peninsula border can be defended from the same position and we will be able to move troops to either front as neccesary. And they will come to us, Sir. We might be standing on the only chunk of land for miles that is suitable for battle.”

Thoracis was impressed. “Very well Colonel Glass.” The General called forth his Command Units. “The Colonel has prepared our orders men. We continue northeast to the edge of these plains. The cavalry and the Raiaerians along with two hundred Veterans are to take up position facing the desert. The remaining Veterans, Mages, and myself with the Defenders will take up positions against the peninsula. Ready your men soldiers, this is going to be the real thing. Our foes are going to fall on us like an avalanche today.”

Colonel Glass watched, now nervously, as the officers of the Command Unit rode to their respective divisions. “The Colonel has prepared our orders men.” Thoracis had given him credit for the armies orders. This one was on him.

“Shouldn’t you be seeing to your men, Colonel?”

Reality snapped back into Glass as the General spoke. He said nothing, just affording Thoracis a quick nod before he spurred his horse, galloping off to join his comrades. Behind him Thoracis spurred his own horse, quickly approaching his skirmishers from Sulgoren’s Axe. Gawyn Sandar quickly came forward to take their orders. “The Colonel is certainly confident, though not very cautious. I only need five of you with each of the two formations. Roughly scout the borders with the desert and the pass. I am not so confident as the Colonel however. The rest of you scour the edge of that forest and coast. Something is going on here and I will not be caught from behind.”

[Tiberius]

It came as a breath of fresh air when the Lost Legion finally broke free of the hot, arid and death ridden desert. Many men broke into smiles at the sight of the long slender grasses of the vast flowing plains ahead of them. While still others only glanced up, nodded almost sullenly and focused once more on putting one foot in front of the other. A few even broke into a weak cheer, those that could muster the strength.

The Legion was tired, the desert sands and desert heat having sapped much of their strength. If they did not stop soon, many would collapse of heat stroke or even worse, pure exhaustion. They needed needed rest true, but most importantly, they needed water.

Early on in the march, General Tertius had ordered a cart filled with barrels of water to be driven up and down the lines of marching men and this had helped stem the tide of thirst, but it had lasted only so long. His army wasn't suited to march in the desert heat and if he was not careful, he would kill them all before they even drew their swords.

This was why when a lone scout came racing back to the head of the Lost Legions long line, Tertius ordered an immediate halt. Shouting orders for what was left of their water reserves to be brought forward and distributed amongst the men. He then sat quietly atop his horse, idly flicking his reins as he waited for the scout to finish approaching.

The man was a wreck, his eyes blood shot, his face burned and his body weary from constant riding. His horse looked no better and although Tertius didn't consider himself fair at judging the condition of his horse, he would still say that thing was close to death. Its nostrils flared wide and it whinnied painfully as it clawed its way to a stop just feet from Tertius and his entourage of bodyguards and officers. The man atop the horses back saluted stiffly, despite his obvious lack of strength and when Tertius returned the gesture of honor, the man promptly admitted as much when he slumped heavily in his saddle.

"You have news?" The general asked calmly when the man did not immediately speak. He was going to have to have the man disciplined, but only when he could walk unassisted again. Beating an already nearly lifeless man was just like murdering a helpless child, and it was a sign of desperation. Tertius didn't need either the guilt or the false air of urgency, so, despite his growing anger, his voice and demeanor remained calm, collected, cool.

The scout heaved in a deep breath and quickly began to wheeze out what he had seen. "Just to, the south, a force of, soldiers." The man inhaled another long breath. "Powerful looking, bunch of, men. At least, half our, numbers though, but are, holding po-sition just, the other, side of, the, river." He gasped and then gagged loudly before throwing up all over his chest and down his horses right side. The man then slumped forward heavily onto the neck of the horse and promptly passed out.

"Dursus!" The general called out as soon as the man began to throw up. "Get this man to the rear, cover him and get him some cool water. On the double now!"

The small man jumped at the sound of the generals voice, but leapt to the task non-the-less. In less then two minutes he had the man dismounted and carted off toward the rear of the army, where he would find some rest and water waiting for him. Moments later, Dursus reappeared at the generals side, a look of worry creasing his brow.

"Does this mean we are marching to battle?"

For a moment Tertius just stared at the man. Could he be even remotely serious? Why, just one look at his army and he could instantly tell that these men wouldn't last half a minute against a well trained, well rested force. The general blinked at Dursus and then shifted in his saddle.

"No," he said curtly. "But it does mean that we march toward water. Form the men up, we march until we reach waters edge. There we will stop, refill our stores and see what we will do about this force of men on the other side."

The small man nodded slowly and turned to face the gathering officers. "Prepare to march!" He yelled and watched as they themselves began shouting the orders up the long line of men and horse and metal. Fifteen minutes later there came a collective, albeit weak, shout from the assembled men that they were ready to move out. Dursus turned to Tertius, his eyes expectant.

"Move out," was all the general said before wheeling his horse around slowly heeling it forward to a slow canter. Behind him Dursus shouted his order and soon the long snake of men and horse and metal was once more on the move. This time however, they would be marching in cooler air and toward water.

The vast empty space of the plains opened up before the generals eyes and he silently began to wonder, exactly how many men he had brought here to die.

[Thoracis]

“There is troop movement to the northeast, Sir. Our enemy has emerged from the desert.”

“Numbers?”

“No more than our total force, Sir, though easily double what we have to face them now.”

“Have they indicted to attack?”

“Not as of yet, Sir. They’ve halted their march at the waterfront.”

“A wise decision. They surely need to regroup from their march. Anything else?”

“Aye, they are well armed, Sir. Their formations are tight. Disciplined.” A smile broke the Salvarian’s face. “It would appear we’ve found ourselves our first real opponents.”

“It would appear so.” General Rakarth didn’t quite share all the optimism his scout displayed. Although he knew they had little to fear from the approaching force the situation as a whole still did not sit right for the ice mage from Alerar. “We shall prepare for battle then. Take these orders to Colonel Glass….”

__________________________________________________ ______


It had been nearly a half hour since they had emerged from the sands, their armor and massive shields gleaming in the desert sun. Colonel Glass marveled at the site. Never before had he seen such an army. Like a massive bronze and iron behemoth they trudged through the sand in perfect rank and file. Glass had counted their cavalry almost immediately. They numbered easily as many as he had under his own command, yet were far more resplendent in their armor and diamond shaped shields, lances held proudly, pointing to the sky. Infantry made up the bulk of the army still, with heavy infantry and archers. Then there were the spearmen, a dire site to any cavalry commander. Behind them all crept their machines of war, far more numerous then Glass had expected to encounter. He could only hope Thoracis’ plan would work and that their reputations preceded them. If not, his men were likely in for one hell of a fight.

A small group of about fifty men stood out from the rest of the army. Mounted and far more armed then their counterparts, it was clear that it was among those men that Glass would find the opposing General. He had wanted his moment and this was it. Only two others would accompany him, a representative from each Alerar and Raiaera. Now the time had passed without any indication of attack. It was time for them to move.

“We ready?”

His counterparts simply nodded, still unhappy with Glass’ new station.

The ride across the plains was short, but quiet. Offering terms had become an archaic practice, but it was a tactic Thoracis was willing to employ to unsettle his opponent. Yet it was a bold move. Behind the emissaries was an army in plain sight of the enemy that was obviously preparing for a two-front battle and while they rode not a single soldier was moved from the northern army to the northeastern force. It was the arrogance one would expect from Thoracis.

The three approached the enemy forces with their weapons sheathed, as was customary, and reigned in their horses a safe enough distance away that they were no threat yet still within range of the enemy bowmen. “I am Colonel Ezekiel Glass, commander of the Yarborough Cavalry from Gisela, Corone. With me are the Colonels Elrohir Eärfalas, commander of the Veterans of Khu’Fein of Alerar, and Beren Lossëhelin, commander of the Elrond Elanessë archer division of Valinatal, Raiaera. We bring terms on behalf of our leader, General Thoracis Rakarth.” Glass paused as he had been instructed, letting the names sink in. All of them were well known military men in their respective countries and inner circles throughout Althanas. Surely the gravity of the situation would reach their enemies. “We offer safe passage for your army if you retreat now. Leave or find another enemy, it is your choice, but if you attack us, we will defeat you.”

__________________________________________________ ______


“Glass has ridden out to offer terms. We expect a reply shortly.”

“They will fight. Who accepts those terms from an army half their strength? No, they will come, and we’ll be ready.”

A sudden commotion from the ranks drew the attention of everyone around. Far off in the distance, high over the peninsula, was a sight that none of them had expected to see. “Is that what I think it is, Sir?” More then likely the Salvarian had never seen such a display.

“That’s an airship.” Thoracis knew that could mean only one thing. Aleranians. “Pull the scouts from the desert, get the men on that pass. I want to know everything about them. Make it quick.”

The man was off immediately, leaving Thoracis to ponder this new development. Another force of Aleranians was either the best or worst thing that could happen to him at this point. If they were Edari’axa’s men things would get ugly fast and force his hand far sooner then he had planned. Yet if they were older troops, with memories of Thoracis and their late Queen fresh in their minds…. Anything would be possible at that point.

[Tiberius]

"How many, do you suppose?" General Tertius gazed out at the large mass of shifting soldiers. He had been doing as much, since the moment they had arrived at the river, and so far, he was still in the dark about their numbers.

"At least half our fighting numbers, maybe a little more." Dursus, his small and stout second, spoke just to his left, his head bobbing in agreement with his own words even as he spoke them. Tertius nodded toward the still shuffling mass of his own army.

"Are our men ready to cross?" Dursus shook his head twice before answering.

"No, some still haven't even gotten their share of the water yet. It will take at least another hour before they're all watered properly. Many of the men have already broken out their rations for the day and started eating." The general nodded.

"Good, tell the men they can rest, for now. But I want them battle formation ready within ten minutes, should those shiny busy bodies over there decide to do something." His second nodded.

"Of course and what shall I tell the men about our plans to cross?" For a moment, the general pondered the indirect question from his second. Finally he shifted in his saddle and smiled broadly.

"Tell the men, they'll know they're going to cross, when the sky rains fire and brimstone upon our foe." This not only got a laugh out of the general, but also many of the gathered men and officers, even Dursus joined the fun. After the laughter had died away the man bowed and bid himself dismissed, saying he had some water to drink and some bread to eat. Tertius dismissed him with a wave of his right hand and then went back to watching the milling force just the other side of the river.

*~*

"General, they've arrived."

He had known about them, the moment they separated themselves from the main group. Three men, obvious command figures, riding out toward an enemy that nearly out numbered them two to one said only one thing. Talks.

Tertius hated talks. Hated them not because they stalled the inevitable battle, or needless bloodshed. No, he hated them because in the end, they resolved nothing. A peace could be made with talk, but it only lasted one generation before failing. Peace made with the sword and bow however, lasted for a life time. All the same however, as much as he hated them, despised them, rebelled against the idea of them, Tertius still had to respect them. It was an act, of formality between men. A sign of trust, a bringing of hope, however false it might be.

So, instead of shooting the three fools so full of arrows that even the buzzards would be forced to leave them lie, Tertius listened quietly to the shouted words of one Colonel Ezekiel Glass of the Yarborough Cavalry. He didn't quite catch the name of where he said he was from but he was sure it was no land he had ever heard of. He did however, catch the dramatic pause after the man introduced his two companions. This caused him to smile.

"You speak as if I should have heard of you," Tertius said after the man had finished his short, and quite blunt, speech. "Your words convey a sense of infamy. Shall I do as you ask and cower like a sickly child, afraid of its own angry father?" His booming laughter filled the air and for a moment his men, which had been going about their business as usual, stopped to listen. A few even hefted their pila and spears, just in case. Centurions who were watching the men quickly called them back into line and disarmed them. No sense in interrupting the generals fun, as it only lead to more bloody fun in the end.

Tertius let his laugh die off into a chuckle before continuing. "You speak of safe passage, but to where? The edge of a cliff where my men will fall to their ultimate death? You speak of defeating my men in pitched combat and yet you know nothing of our tactics, our strengths, our weakness. I know nothing of you but I can already tell your arrogant pigs and probably deserve the defeat you so highly speak of." The general reined in his horse abruptly and wheeled it around. "My men are here for water and rest, go back to your camp. If it comes to fighting, you will be the first to know." He then spurred his horse back toward the main body of his camp, calling for his second.

*~*

He found the man boiling up a small pot of water with a few centurions, the hard crusted exteriors of their hardtack bouncing on the surface. The small man rose from his crouching position and stared up at the general expectantly.

"Yes, General?"

Tertius reined his horse in a flurry of dust and a stamping of hooves. "I want all our archers on alert and I want those Onagers manned and ready to fire on a moments notice." The general paused and thought for a moment. "Explosive shot, with as many small stones as you can fit into the jars."

"Sir?" Obviously the man thought the talks hadn't gone so well. Tertius smiled down toward him and tapped his chest.

"Just a feeling, don't' want to be caught with my toga up, that's all."

The small man nodded. "Yes General, right away." Then he sprinted off, shouting orders and gathering officers and centurions around him.

"We can expect to see fighting soon?" It was one of the remaining centurions that had spoken. A twenty-seven year veteran by the insignia on his lavishly decorated belt. Tertius looked down to the man who had spoken and then to the other centurions.

"Yes, but pray it is a quick and moderately painless one." Then he heeled his horse forward and moved toward the front of his army. He wanted to watch that other army.

[Thoracis]

“There’s certainly a fire in the old man. All we have to do is find a way to stoke the flames.”

Thoracis was still not pleased with Colonel Glass’ report. His enemy had returned his arrogance in kind. Either truly ignorant to what they were up against as they claimed, or simply proud enough to be uncaring, they were showing no fear. Yet still they maneuvered not one inch towards attack. It was infuriating, another bold opponent, brave enough to show themselves, yet not so daring to actually launch an assault.

“They mean to bait us. But why?”

“We have superior position. Crossing the land bridge will be dangerous for them now that we’re so close. They want to pull us within range of their archers and catapults.”

“Exactly. Well if they want to lure me to them, that’s what they’ll get. I will bring them to us or I will force them out.” Thoracis had that look in his eyes, that look Glass had already learned to dread.

“Sir? It would be folly to move the army towards them. We don’t yet know what will be coming from the Aleranians.”

“Do not worry Colonel Glass. You will be able to handle the Aleranians and I am quite capable of taking care of myself. You say this man claims to not have heard of me? Then I shall go introduce myself. If there is truly a fire in them then I shall unleash it and make sure they never forget my name.”

__________________________________________________ ______

Colonel Glass watched with a large degree of uncertainty as Thoracis readied himself. The arcane ice creations of Thoracis’ had been quickly summoned from the north and now they surrounded their master with a preternatural nonchalance that spoke of their inability to grasp their surroundings and predetermination towards following their masters orders. It wasn’t until that moment, when surrounded by the elementals, that Colonel Glass truly understood the power of his General. For God’s sake he’s almost one of them. In his white robes and black porcelain mask you could not tell by looking at him, but everyone knew of the “condition” which afflicted Thoracis, half of his body seemingly sculpted from the very element which made up his creations. It was sometimes hard for Glass to grasp the fact that Thoracis was still a human. Perhaps he wasn’t, but human or not, this seemed like a suicide mission to Colonel Glass.

__________________________________________________ ______

Thoracis Rakarth was absolutely exhilarated. Since the Lornius Corporate Challenge he had had little opportunity to demonstrate his true strength. Now he would do that and more, marching fifty soldiers into a thousand. It would be a defining moment, not just for the coming battle, but for all of Thoracis’ future plans.

There was no need for words or speeches with the ice elementals. They felt no fear and simply began to follow as Thoracis heeled his horse forward towards the desert and the enemy. In five groups of ten they tailed behind their master, easily keeping up with his trotting horse. It took only moments for them to reach their position. Just outside the range of the enemy archers Thoracis brought the group to a halt. If they were lucky they would have a brief moment where the enemy thought he had come to discuss terms himself. Regardless, by the time they realized what was going on it would probably be too late.

To his far left and right the outermost groups of mages had already begun their strange, ritual chorus. Thoracis himself paced his horse back and forth, glaring towards the enemy, his icy eyes eager for the chaos to ensue. As it had at the Gisela River the breeze began to shift slightly at first, but rapidly gained in intensity. It wouldn’t be long now.

__________________________________________________ ______

Glass looked on with Elrohir as the events unfolded. He had not seen the winds personally in the previous battle and was awestruck by what he was witnessing. From the east and west of the enemy they came, violently whipping up sand from both directions. It was hard to tell from his distance, but he was sure they were at least forty mile per hour winds. Thoracis himself had moved ahead of his elementals, his arms opened out before him. A collective gasp came from the troops as a large portion of the waterway between Thoracis and their enemy began to freeze over entirely. Meanwhile the conjured winds were creating a sandstorm that was soon to envelope the enemy force.

Glass turned to Elrohir, nearly aghast at the sight, and the dark elf merely shrugged. “He does not like to be challenged.”

It was not a huge portion of the channel that Thoracis had frozen over, but certainly more then Glass would have ever anticipated from one man. He shuddered at the thought of what the General intended. Certainly his point had been made with the windstorm.

“Come now Glass. We have our own orders to carry out. We have to gather the Salvarians and reach the Aleranians before they decide to attack us.”

Glass forced himself to turn away. He longed to see what kind of destruction Thoracis had in mind, but he knew his counterpart from Alerar was right. They had to reach the pass.

__________________________________________________ ______

Thoracis knew that they could sustain the winds longer and truly punish their enemy with the sandstorms that accompanied them. He hoped that they realized the same thing. He was showing them mercy by halting that attack. Hopefully the next would be the exclamation point.

Thoracis had come to fully master the element of ice and its manipulation, though he had never attempted something of this scale. He focused his mind on where he had froze the channel. The ice was not thick, but it would suit his purposes. All of his energy went towards the area just beneath the ice. He let his mind spread out, taking in as much of the surface as he could. Once he had spread his reach as far as he felt possible he thrust his energy upward, forcing the ice to explode from the channel and rain it’s shards down on the desert.

He hadn’t been able to pull off the attack to the scale that he wanted, with nearly a quarter of the ice remaining in the channel, nor would it reach a great portion of his enemy, but if this army had not known who he was before, he was sure they would now.

[Bleater]

Long gangplanks slapped roughly against the tall grasses of the Grand Plains; yellow-green waves rolled away from the ships as the wind raced over the tops of the grass. There was a marching first of the commanders, shortly followed by the cadence of the troops following behind. As they stepped out onto the soft earth, William and the two leaders stepped to the side of the gangplank to let the marching line through. Corporal Krybirr closely inspected the men with a watchful eye as they made their way down the wooden ramps from the airships, the propellers still gently turning overhead.

"Captain Lashgiver, what of the nautical ship?" the drow said as he watched the men like a hawk.

"I saw from the bow, they made ground a little over ten minutes ago, and have deployed onto the shore. They've begun their march, and should no doubt reach us in the next ten or fifteen minutes.

The drow nodded, looking over at William.

"And your Division?"

William arched his head around his shoulder, looking back westward. The waves of the Behemoth Division were making their way out of the gorge path, just a few dozen yards behind the airships. Jerking his head back towards them, he grunted.

"That a proper answer for you?"

The commanders turned their attention in the direction he was nodding, each surveying a bit on their own.

"Very good. In that case, go to your division, Mr. Steinbock, and have them begin the procedure to assemble the Behemoth. Captain Lashgiver?"

"Aye, Shalacius?" the dwarf said, turning his attention back.

"Your men were the ones on the ship. I want you to prepare for their rezendevous and have them join rank with my division upon their arrival. I will oversee my men deploying from the airships. We need everything in order withing the next half hour, so I can brief the troops. We all clear?"

The goat and the dwarf each nodded. The stately drow turned back and had a pleased look on his face as his horse was led down the wooden ramps by one of the men, and the Corporal moved quickly to it, pulling himself up the side and sitting tall in the saddle.

"Good. I'll assume you two know what you're doing enough to handle your divisions."

William turned and walked between rows of tall waving grass with the sun beating down on his furred brow. He made the march westward, the rows and rows of emotionless, unliving faces standing ahead of him. As he approached, he shouted ahead to the elementalists at the front of the Behemoth Division's ranks.

"Prepare to assemble the Behemoth!"

He watched carefully with each step as the automatons began moving in small formations, coming closer. Each one was uniquely designed so that when they pressed against another, they interlocked like puzzle pieces. Every hoof-length closer he got, more and more joined, and the foundation for the Behemoth was being laid before his very eyes...

All troops have arrived at the west-most portion of the Grand Plains from Renzokuken Pass. (Location F)

[Max Dirks]

(The army, minus four support troops, and Ressurrecter’s contingent, has arrived at the southern bridge of the Grand Plains from the Dragon Master forest)

“There,” Drax said as he pointed to a figure across the lake. “Do you see him?” Across the river, a fur clad warrior was quickly passing from tree to tree. “That’s odd. I wasn’t aware that the dark elves wore fur.” Drax leaned forward for a better look, and the piece of the rock that he was leaning against broke off and tumbled into the water. “Shit,” he said, as he quickly fell back behind the rock.

“It’s a good bet they know we’re here anyway.” Drax said to Phagan. He leaned forward, picked up his bottle of Alerian Ale and then walked around the rock. “Here goes nothing.” Drax was clad in his usual attire, except he was outfitted with the Staff and the gun that Ressurrecter had given to him rather than his PSG-1.

“Hello there,” Drax called out to warrior from across the river. There was no response, not even a rustle of leaves in the location the warrior was last seen. “Don’t be ridiculous, chum. I know you’re there.” When the warrior did not respond again, Drax began walking towards the bridge. He randomly took gulps of his ale as he walked. When he arrived at the bridge, Drax stopped.

“Do come out, my fur laden friend. I come in peace or something to that effect.” Drax said with a slight laugh before starting across the bridge. He started to hum the melody to the Alerian nation anthem. When Drax arrived at the other side of the bridge, a bird flew out of the brush just to the southeast of his location. Suddenly an arrow shot out, narrowly missing Drax’s head.

“Woo there,” Drax called out, raising his arms into the air. “I’m unarmed!” The warrior, almost as if in acknowledgement of his premature strike, jumped up from the bushes and held the bow level at Drax’s chest. The warrior was a burly human. He was clearly not from Alerar. “Well hello there. Isn’t it a bit warm for fur in Alerar?” Drax joked. “Salvarian, are you? You know, my great aunt Bessie moved to Salvar, but she said the wolves there were worse than the raccoons, always eating her shit.”

The warrior did not respond, so Drax continued. “You know, maybe you can help me. I’m trying to find Thoracis Rakarth,” Drax slurred the General’s surname. “Do you know him?” At this, over 20 more of the fur clad warriors jumped out of the bushes, aiming their bows at Drax. The Imperial General smiled, “Didn’t we just go over this? Look, I just want to see Thoracis Rakarth. I have a business proposition for him.”

As Drax finished, one of the warriors called out. They turned their bows to the trees across the river and starting firing blindly. In the aftermath of the barrage, a single dark elf fell from the tree onto the ground. The elf stood up. His face was filled with dirt, but looked rather unhurt. The warriors knocked their weapons to fire again, but Drax cried out, “WAIT! That’s just my body guard, uh, Ridnurle.” Drax shook his head his choice of names. “You mustn’t kill him. There would be no one to carry my wine!”

Drax turned around and started walking to Ridnurle, despite the fact he heard every bow turn back to him. He motioned for Ridnurle to come across the bridge. When he turned around, Drax found that two of the warriors had approached him.

“Give me your weapons,” one of the warriors huffed in common Corone speech.

“Er, weapons. Right.” Drax responded. He reached along his back and pulled off the Staff of Mazrith and handed it to the warrior. The warrior took it, but looked perturbed. The weapon was weightless, yet it obeyed his every command. After a moment, Drax found that the warrior was still looking at him. “Oh right, the gun.” Drax pulled it from its hip holster and began to hand it to the warrior when it slipped out of his hand. “Oops,” Drax called out. The warrior looked dumbfounded at the weapon.

Ridnurle had finally made his way across the bridge. He reached down and picked up the gun. He lifted the gun and scratched the back of his neck before handing it over to the warrior. Afterwards, Ridnurle gave his own bow to the warriors. Once Drax and Ridnurle were disarmed, the warriors grabbed them and began pulling them into the northern woods. Drax dropped his Ale into the River and cried out, “Hey! That was a good bottle!”

Once in the woods, Drax and Ridnurle were bound. The first time Drax was bound, he was mysteriously able to slip out of the ropes. The General claimed that the Salvarians must have learned to tie knots from his aunt Bessie, and proceeded to bind himself. Once the warriors were satisfied that the knot was sufficient they passed further into the forest to discuss their next action.

Ten of the warriors emerged from the forest and put their arms against their prisoners. One spoke to Drax, “We will take you to the general. He will decide what to do with you.” Drax nodded and then smiled. The warriors surrounded Drax and Ridnurle, and began walking north through the forest and to the plains. Every now and again, Drax skipped ahead, only to be thwarted and threatened by his captors.

-----

Thirty minutes passed with no movement along the river. The remaining 30 or so warriors had taken their positions around the eastern bank. Suddenly a bird whistled. Then a wolf howled. An owl hooted. Each of the noises was uncharacteristic for the middle of the day. The noises intensified and soon an odd mist began to form from under the bridge. The warriors, though not frightened, were extremely cautious as the bridge transformed.

There was a long scream from the western side of the river, and an army comprised of nearly 250 troops started rising out of the bushes and from beyond the trees. The army charged at the warriors, weapons drawn. In response, the warriors readied and fired their weapons. However, this army seemed surreal, and certainly not human. None of their arrows seemed to strike any of the approaching soldiers. The warriors' aims were impeccable, but none of the advancing troops fell.

The line advanced, and soon the warriors were no more. It wasn’t the swords of the advancing army that struck and killed the warriors. It was arrows, shot by dark elves hidden behind the western trees that murdered them. In the aftermath, the fog lifted, and the strange army disappeared. Soon, hundreds of troops began emerging from the forest. Among them was Drax Piston.

“Status report,” Drax asked the nearest dark elf.

“It appears that we’ve destroyed the entire platoon. However, we lost 10 support soldiers and 10 mages on the bridge. They were the ones creating the noises and the fog. The warrior’s arrows passed through Lieutenant Phagan’s illusions, but struck the soldiers as they worked.”

“Most unfortunate,” Drax said, before turning away. “Follow my illusion north. Thoracis, as brilliant as a tactician as he is, is not particularly fond of guerilla warfare. He prefers a straight fight. I suspect your passage should be relatively safe. Do not move in before I signal you to do so.”

“Yes Sir,” the elf responded before running off. Soon the army began the slow process of moving across the bridge.

When all but the strike team, comprised of ten dark elves, five mages (both dark and light) and four support soldiers, remained Drax turned to Phagan. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t have to follow that illusion to control it?”

Phagan responded, though he kept his eyes shut. “No, they are my eyes. I see what they see, and feel what they feel. As long as I have the foresight to keep the illusion from walking through someone, or through a rock, I doubt the Salvarians will catch on.”

“Good,” Drax said. “Come along then,” Drax told Phagan. They slowly walked north along the river to preserve Phagan’s concentration until they reached the place where the support soldiers had secured the canoes. The strike team filed into the boats and the support staff pushed off.

(Permission to bunny the Berserkers granted by Thoracis. Drax’s illusion and the Ridnurle have gone with ten Berserkers to see Thoracis. The remainder of the army is travelling through the forest and will arrive at the plains shortly)

[Tiberius]

"General!"

Tertius rounded at the sound of his name and sought out the speaker. It was Dursus, the short man huffing and puffing as he ran up to stand beside the idle general. The man was red in the face and quite flustered; he probably ran all the way across the temporary camp. Once the man had stopped however, Tertius gave him little time to adjust himself.

"What is it Dursus," he demanded almost as soon as the man skid to a halt.

"Someone, is, approaching, sir!" His breaths were quick and short, his speech clipped and wheezed. The man really had run, and was probably suffering from the still partially fresh wounds on his chest and back. Tertius saw no complaint or pain in his eyes however, so perhaps it was just from running, and maybe the heat.

He always was a very capable man. The general let the thought bounce idly in his mind while he glanced toward the river and plains beyond. "What do you mean, 'someone' approaches? I see nothing."

Dursus straightened himself and looked toward the river, pointing toward a distantly moving shape. "There sir," he said with a wheeze. "The scouts spotted him only because he seemed to be the only one on a horse that was moving toward us."

"Oh," the general said with a quirked eyebrow. "This should concern me, how? He is only one man." Sarcasm filled his voice and a smile appeared on his face.

"They, the scouts, also report some sort of, apparitions, walking behind him."

The general was almost instantly confused and smile vanished. "Apparitions? You mean, like ghosts?"

Now it was Dursus's turn to look confused. "Ghosts? No, not ghosts. Human in appearance, but not. I'm not sure, I only glanced at them when I was informed. You have to move closer if you want to see for yourself."

The general was still not convinced. "If he is so far now, how will me moving closer help me to see these, apparitions, or ghosts, or whatever you want to call them? Wouldn't it be easier if I just waited until he got here?"

Dursus sighed, heavily. "Well, perhaps. But I don't think he's going to come all the way to us. Call it a hunch, call it I just don't like the way he looks, but sir, you'll want to move closer, believe me."

The generals mouth turned down into a small frown. "I never said I did not believe you Dursus, I was merely asking why I had to move closer when my position here better suited my needs." Then it was the generals turn to sigh. "But, if it will ease your heart and mind, I will move to the rivers edge to see these 'things.'" He motioned for five of his guard to accompany him on the walk to the river.

As he passed through the ranks of his army he would occasionally stop and exchange shoulder slaps with a few of his officers, some of his distinguished soldiers and some of the lucky few he just felt like saying hello too. All this brought smiles to the worn faces of the men and he knew, that in the long run, it would raise the morale of his men. For right now, them being in a strange land surrounded by strange and apparently hostile people, they would need as much encouragement as possible.

After about seven or so minutes of walking, the general, Dursus and his five body guards reached the edge of the river. They formed a short line near the bank of the flowing water, staring out across it and into the plains beyond. At the mounted man, and the strange bluish-white beings standing behind him.

"By the gods," the general breathed. "What could they be?"

Dursus, apparently having seen them before coming to get the general, merely shrugged. "We don't know, they haven't moved to attack. All they did was march behind that mounted man there." The small man narrowed his eyes. "It looks like he's halting now, but why?"

The general nodded. "Yes, and so did those blue things." Abruptly the general looked skyward, then behind him and then back toward the mounted man and his fifty strange blue things. "Do you hear that?" The other six men looked skyward, tilting their heads, listening. Dursus was the first to speak.

"Yes, yes I do. Almost like some sort of choir, don't you think?" The other five men quickly agreed. Dursus looked to the general. "What do you think general?"

The general frowned. "I don't know." Then he pointed toward the mounted man and was about to say something else when the wind began to blow. All words failed in his throat and in their place, was terror. The wind wasn't blowing from the north, or the south, or the east, or the west. It was blowing from the east and the west.

The generals mouth opened to shout something but it was instantly pulled from his lips and drowned in the sea of terrified screams behind him. Something slammed hard against his back and knocked him forward onto his knees. There was a loud clang as the armored form of one of his five guards landed just to his left, the long slender haft of a spear jutting from between his shoulder blades.

Picked up and thrown by the winds. The general, panic and terror gripping his heart in its iron fist, fought against the rising urge to flee. If he fled, where would he flee too? He did not know this place, where could he possibly run too? Into the river, perhaps? Only to be dragged to some even more distant land, if not to the bottom. His teeth clenched until it felt like his jaw itself would crack and he lifted his head to the lifeless body of his guard.

No, from this, cursed and hellish nightmare come to life, he would not run. He could not run. He clenched his hands into fists and pushed himself up to his feet. Then, fighting the winds and sand that seemed to want to push him down and pull him off his feet all at the same time, the general turned around. At least, he thought he turned around. The world around him had become a murky brown instead of the clear air he had seen just moments before. His bearings were gone, his sense of direction failing. He raised an arm against the pelting sands and advanced a shaky step. Something materialized from the air in front of him and he had only a single moment to realize that it was a shield, caught by the winds and whipped into a deadly frenzy. He cried out and raised his other arm to shield himself only to have winds suddenly vanish as if they had never existed. The shield, no longer having any driving force behind it to propel it forward and around in circles, fell to the ground with a great clang. There was instantly hundreds of similar clangs, as pieces of armor, shields, weapons, tools and all other things not tied down, came crashing back to the earth.

A strange silence filled the air then, like the calm just after a great storm. Then, as the finality of it began to set in, the screams began. At first it was only a few, then more joined in. Their wails of pain, terror, and confusion filling the air with an ear piercing chorus.

Tertius was stunned. He had...had...An explosion knocked his mind back into the rut it had just derailed from. He stumbled a half step and turned toward where he had heard the sound, but only saw empty air. His face twisted, confusion settling in. Then, by a will not of his own, his eyes drifted skyward, to the slowly clearing sky and distant white clouds. He squinted and then, by the grace of the gods or by his own hell-be-damned luck, he saw them. Small shapes, glinting and shifting in the blue and white and brown haze. Small pieces of something, flying through the air. And then, the shapes began to grow larger, and larger and larger, until - Tha-Whump!

The sound whipped the generals head around and his eyes locked on the object that had hit the ground next to him. Ice! A large piece o ice, almost as big as his own head, had just fallen not two feet from his body. But...how? The question met empty air as there was another impact, this one closer still. He didn't bother with trying to find this one, instead, he dove for the shield. All around him the impacts of pieces of falling ice filled the air and the screams of his confused, wounded and terrified soldiers echoed their impacts.

His shoulder hit the ground with a hallow thump and he instinctively rolled onto his back. His left arm shot out to his side and grabbed a hold of the shield, hauling it up over his chest and face. It wasn't a moment too soon, for as soon as the far end of the shield covered his right arm there was a thunderous crash that rattled the shield and his body alike. One of the pieces of ice had just hit the shield, and would have probably killed him had he not had it covering him. His eyes squeezed shut after a moment and he fervently began to whisper prays to every god he could think of, to see him through this nightmare come true.

*~*

He couldn't say how long he lay there, or for how long he had his eyes squeezed shut like a scared child, but he knew that it had been for long enough. His prayers had long since gone silent, as had the crunch and thumps of the falling ice. So maybe, for now, it was over. He opened his eyes and pushed the shield off his body. He blinked in the harsh sunlight and flinched when he felt a gentle breeze. He heaved a sigh of relief when he realized it was too weak to even stir the dust from the ground and then immediately cursed himself for harboring such a thought.

Tossing the shield away from his body, Tertius pushed himself shakily to his feet and dusted the front of his legs and chest. Then, he looked around.

His eyes immediately wanted to tear and he could feel the corner of his mouth beginning to quiver. His army, he legion, was a wreck.

Armor and weapons lay scattered about the field. Some of the horses had bolted in the wind and he could just barely see their still fleeing rumps in the distance. There were bodies everywhere but a life time on the battle field told him that only a few were really dead. Some were just too stunned to move, to think. Many were standing, staring blankly into the distance, or toward the river, toward the desert. Some were even staring at the sun, but few of these could ever hold that stare for more than a few seconds. All of them were missing some piece of their battle attire, be it pieces of armor, weapons, their shields. A few were even missing everything, even their tunics. These men were among the most severely wounded, as they had nothing to protect themselves from the sands or their own possessed weapons. In all, the Lost Legion had suffered a crippling blow. Not a physical blow, but a psychological blow. Tertius knew the signs, he had utilized his own tactics of war similarly. He knew when men were beaten.

But, No! I will not have this.

Fists clenched in rage, Tertius advanced toward his army turned mob. Ignoring the cries of help from the men around him, Tertius sought out the nearest centurion and hauled him to his feet.

"I want this army back together, now!" He bellowed into the mans stunned and dirty face. "Get into rank and file formations! I want roll called and every man missing, wounded or dead found and accounted for." He heaved the sputtering man down into the dirt with a grunt. "I said now!" The general screamed before sprinting to the next nearest centurion. Soon, after only having to shout his orders only three times, the rest of the men began to move.

At first it was slowly, as they were still getting over possibly the most unbelievable and stunning event of their entire lives, but no man, even a dead man, could ignore the leather necked bellows of a veteran centurion. Soon every man was sprinting to his designated rank and file. Every man was scrambling to find the missing pieces of his armor, his scatter weapons and shield. The dead were quickly found, assessed and then dragged to a rapidly increasing line to the west. The wounded were rapidly send back to the miraculously still standing carts, where they would be further assessed and then treated.

At some point during all this, Tertius found the last surviving four members of his original five body guards, and the nervously smiling face of Dursus himself. After a brief, but heart felt reunion, Tertius asked Dursus what had happened after the sands came up.

"I'm not sure," the man said shakily. He was probably still not quite over what had happened, but Tertius couldn't blame him. Couldn't blame any of his mens blank stares, or startled reactions when something unexpected, but small, happened to them. He reached out to grab a hold of Dursus and the next man nearest to him.

"Well, whatever did happen, I can tell you what didn't happen. We didn't run, we are still here, we are still alive." His sure smile seemed to bring about an air of assurance in his men. Their general wasn't afraid, so why should they be? Soon they were once again smiling and were even exchanging their own personal stories about what had happened during that brief, but deadly nightmare. They were even laughing at their own fear.

Good, the general thought as he left the men to rejoin their respected rank and file. Today they will have nothing left to fear, for they have seen the worst, and over come it. He spotted a passing scout, fresh from a ride, and reached out to grab a hold of him. "You, what do you have to report?"

For a moment the scout was stunned and then he recognized Tertius. Must look like every other man here, the general thought as the man saluted out of respect. Tertius returned the salute and then waited for the man to speak.

"There is another force approaching from the northeast, came in by one of the strangest contraptions I'd ever seen." The scout made some gestures with his hands and then pointed up, and then down. "Came out of the air and landed, then men began marching out of it. They've started construction of something, but I couldn't get close enough to see what it was."

Tertius nodded. "Do you think it is a threat?"

The scout shrugged. "Can't say, don't know what it was."

Tertius nodded again. "Well, carry on. You can either stay here or return to the field." Tertius made to turn but stopped when the man coughed gently.

"Don't mind me asking sir, but what happened? I saw a big cloud of dust as I was riding in and then," he gestured to the scrambling army. "This?"

The general smiled. "Just a bit of wind and some hail, that's it. Carry on."

The scout spluttered and nodded, before turning around and darting for his waiting horse. He'll find out sooner or later, the general thought as he turned completely around. That was when he found himself another reason to smile.

Standing before him, dusty and not quite as shiny as before, was the rank and file of his entire legion. Or at least, those parts that could still stand. Which constituted for a great majority, but losses such as this were always a little hard to get over. The senior centurion and Dursus himself approached the general then and as one, saluted out of respect then bowed.

Tertius returned the salute and bow and then stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

"The army is ready and waiting general. Some of the men are still tracking down those horses we lost but most were tied or staked down, so they did not bolt."

"Good," Tertius said. "How soon until you're ready to move?" He already knew the answer to that question. The Legion was ready now and would not question the order, not in the least bit.

The centurion knew this as well, but still puffed up with pride. "We are ready when you say we're ready general."

Tertius smiled and nodded. "Good, line formation, on the double. We're crossing the river."

"Yes, sir!" The centurion belted, saluting out of respect, then bowing. Then he rounded on the waiting men and began shouting orders for them to form line formations of five abreast. Dursus watched the man go and then approached the general.

"Sir, I would also like to tell you that the Onagers and Scorpions suffered no damage from the sand or the falling, ice." His mouth twisted the word, almost as if he still couldn't believe it. Tertius reached up and slapped him on the back.

"No worries Dursus, it is all still good news. Have them brought forward, along with our archers. They will bring word of our advance to our newest enemies, but this time, I think I'll stay a little bit more toward the back of our men." Both of their smiles were broad and they both began to chuckle as one.

Beyond them, the rank and file formation of the Lost Legion slowly began to form into a line formation, while the remaining heavy Onagers and lighter Scorpions, steadily began advancing into position against the river.

((Losses - 9 Infantrymen, 4 Spearmen, 6 Cavalrymen, 3 Archers, 8 Seige Equipment Engineers, 1 General Laborer, 1 Scout and 2 of the Generals Bodyguard. 37 remounts have also been lost to the desert.

Total - 34 : 37))

[Thoracis]

It was a motley group that approached the landed airship; a human cavalry commander from Corone, a group of roguish-looking fellows from Salvar and a lone Aleranian who clearly looked unsettled. For Elrohir Eärfalas the apprehension had been building since the moment they had separated from the rest of the army and put only themselves between this new enemy and their own, now engaging, forces. He had yet to find any kind of confidence in Colonel Glass and the fact that Thoracis was favoring him still stung Elrohir, who had a longer tenure under Thoracis then any man in the army. He was sure that Glass would not be able to handle the Aleranians properly.

Colonel Glass, on the other hand, was as confident as a man could be. Though taken aback at what he had just witnessed from his General, Glass now understood the type of power he wielded as Thoracis’ second-in-command. Even the sight of the strange apparition being constructed in the distance, which many of the Salvarians were nervously grumbling about, could do nothing to lessen Glass’ confidence. With Thoracis’ magic they could route any number of enemies, of that he was certain. Surely the Aleranians knew this as well. That was why they would accept his terms or fall like the others.

As before, Glass signaled the others to halt well short of the enemy, still taking every caution to appear unthreatening, even if he himself seemed rather uncaring about the formality at this point. Elrohir grimaced at the man’s arrogance. Glass seemed not to notice, waving a greeting to the drow near the gangplank of the airship. “I am Colonel Ezekiel Glass of the Yarborough Cavalry Division of Gisela, Corone. I come to you on behalf of General Thoracis Rakarth.” Elrohir noticed Glass’ back stiffen when he spoke Thoracis’ name, as if he were truly representing the General. It was almost sickening. Glass was again unperturbed by the looks he was receiving. “You may leave the field or fight beside us., it is no concern of mine. If you attempt to fight us you will fail, just as the first army to refuse us is now being destroyed to the east. The choice is yours.”

Elrohir had had enough. It was one thing for Glass to talk to the humans that way. Now he was insulting his countrymen, even more, Thoracis’ image, with his insolent behavior. Glass had insisted that he alone would do the talking, but it was apparent the man was determined to make an enemy with every word that left his mouth, and Elrohir knew they needed these men. he didn't even wait for a reply before calling out, “Please excuse my friend,” Elrohir called out in his native tongue, knowing that Glass would not be able to understand the exchange, “He can be a bit… abrasive. I fear he does our mission a great injustice, however.”

“Elrohir! You have orders!”

The mix of shock and anger on Glass’ face only urged Elrohir on. “ I am Elrohir Eärfalas of Khu’Fein. We were sent by the Lord General Thoracis to contact you.” Thoracis no longer went by that title, but Elrohir used it regardless, knowing that it had been his title within the Aleranian Army. “It is also true that our forces have engaged near the desert to the east, Thoracis himself riding forth to confront the enemy. He has assured me though that he has not forgotten about Alerar and has no desire to fight his countrymen. He would be… No, we all would be, honored if you would join us in this fight. For Alerar.” Elrohir tensed under the gaze of Glass. If this failed Glass would be able to pin it all on him. He could only hope that these men realized what had just been presented to them.

__________________________________________________ ______

Gawyn Sandar was unsure how to feel about the eccentric man who had emerged from the southern bridge. Thoracis had told him to be wary of the border with the forest and as sure as Salvar was cold, here came this drunkard, brandishing weapons far above his caste and requesting an audience with the General by name. Both of their captives had been quick enough in turning over their weapons, however, so there was little to fret over as they made their way back towards the army.

The journey back took far longer than Gawyn would have liked. More then once he considered unbinding the captives, but he doubted they would be able to keep up with him and the rest of the skirmishers anyway, so he settled in with their pace, enjoying the brief respite from being on the constant alert. They were still over a mile out when the scene unfolded before them. Nearly the entire army had been mobilized and was moving towards the channel that separated the plains from the desert. On the opposite was another army, also on the move. The battle was about to begin.

“Pick up the pace.” The order wasn’t necessary, as everyone sped up instinctively at the sight of there comrades in battle. Gawyn eyed his captives nervously now, unsure of their role in the coming battle. “It looks like you wait for Thoracis Rakarth now. The General is busy.” And it was probably for the best, Gawyn knew, as this stranger was surely not all that he appeared to be.

__________________________________________________ ______

Thoracis was elated with the results of his offensive. Executed to perfection, his attack had ripped through the enemy with devastating force and left confusion and fear in its wake. It was not long though before the man Glass had spoke of made himself plain. Up and down the ranks he stalked, screaming at his men, ordering them back into line. “Fiery indeed,” Thoracis muttered to himself, pondering the thought of finding a worthy adversary. Men such as this were useful. Perhaps if they both lived through the battle…

The enemy was back in formation and moving with disciplined speed. Thoracis knew that the battle would now commence and he would have to act quickly if he intended to maintain his advantage. At once he ordered the mages into another spell. Again it was a pair of ritual groups that broke into chorus, the effects of which were not readily apparent. Thoracis himself stood tall atop his mount, waving the signal to march. Although Glass and Elrohir were away from their units they were on the move almost instantly under the command of Beren Lossëhelin. The cavalry swept out towards the southeast before turning north again, where they would be in position to defend the eastern edge of the plains. The Veterans of Khu’Fein took a direct route northeast, split into two units with ranks eighteen wide by five deep each. Following closely behind them were the Valinatal Archers in their traditional line formation. It may not have been visible from a distance, but the infantry went forward with remarkable speed, the effects of the elementals’ spells allowing them other worldly foot speed.

The General himself never moved from his position, simply watching as his men came into formation. They were still outnumbered, vastly, even after his attack, but he was determined to not cede an inch of ground to the enemy. They would have space to get over the land bridge, that much he could not prevent. Even with the assistance of magic could anyone move that fast. They would get no further though. No, he would make his stand here and hope that Glass and Elrohir were successful in establishing an allegiance with the Aleranians to the north. Then his dwarves and the remaining Veterans would come in from the north and flank the enemy. There was no plan for their failure. Failure was not an option.