The acrid stench of......what, what was it, Zor'damos pondered this momentarily as she considered the flea pit Men call home.
What was it? Treachery, without question; sorcery, no doubt; the capricious Gods and their games? It felt like all conspired against her and her kin.
And yet it had begun as planned, putting that perfidious squat menace to the sword for all eternity.
Zor'damos's horde had ensnared the snivelling wretch humans without incident but of course there are always greater prizes to snatch and Sycorax and his rabble were no impediment to Elvish ambition. Sure the abominable whelps snarled and clawed and spat and chewed but ultimately to no avail against Zor'damos and her Impalers. Was that all they had scoffed the dark hearted Corsairs?
The much vaunted lumbering stone trolls trudged forward only to be held up by demonic underlings while the flying titan sought to vanquish the heart of the dwarven line, their very own dark hearts - The Blacksouls
The Corsairs were faring equally well against the dwarfs' self-styled 'Slithering Dragon' and it's deadly firepower - the terrifying Decimators. However poor deployment by the Decimators and lightning fast advances by the piratical horde negated this potent dwarven tactic and along with the beasts of hell they were soon despatched to their own fiery furnace leaving the way clear for Zor'damos and her band of petty thieves and brigands to inflict yet more misery on those 'men' unfortunate enough to fall prey to their merciless and infinitely cruel enslavement.
And so it seemed destined to be written in the annals of elven self-glorification until what, what exactly happened to puncture Zor'damos's hubris.
The Blacksouls, ravaged and broken by the Goredrake and Zor'damos herself - too craven to engage them alone - on the verge of destruction rallied for one last determined stand which thwarted the flying titan just long enough for the stone trolls to catch the leviathan's flank. Though not decisive these creatures of infamy on both sides fought one another until by some devilish sorcery the Golems against all expectations smote the mighty winged behemoth.
In the centre the Corsairs and Impalers were seeking to consolidate their fortuitous gains and realise their despicable stratagem. Sycorax however had other ideas. Unleashing a pyrotechnic inferno channelling Ariagful's Flame supported by the Molten Menace himself they made short work of the Corsairs who couldn't stand the heat and fled the cauldron! The prime of the Twilight battleline - the monstrous Impalers - now found itself in a vice-like grip between the phlegmatic Golems and the fearless and heroic Infernox and they predictably crumbled to a primeval dust.
Zor'damos herself was in no position to assail the now impregnable dwarven position atop the central hill. The victory, so assured only moments earlier, had eluded her and so had vast quantities of slaves and with it unimaginable wealth and power.
Zor'damos would extricate her shattered horde, regroup, lick her wounds and consider her next moves.
Next time - Armada: The Haunted Isles. Can Zor'damos claw back some wealth and prestige in the form of hidden yet ghoulishly guarded treasure to atone for the slaves lost to fiendish Sycorax?
Zor'damos almost pulled it off, next time she just needs to go one unit further in her rampage :-)
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