DESCENT OF THE HAWK LORDS

[kojibear]

So who won the battle. I read the whole thing and I can't make out a winner.

The Wood Elves Hoorah!

Answer found in these lines :

The blood that caked what remained of the Druchii female’s neck was well dry and I guessed her death had not come from the long daggers of the Waywatchers. Well, there was also the arrow that protruded from the middle of woman’s forehead. It was an arrow I knew well; I had made it, for Aria.


The state the giant lizard was in now though, as my dinner, also clearly meant that the Druchii had underestimated the Asrai archers.

The tide of battle, the current storyteller revealed, had been turned by magic, both Asrai and the forest’s.

The forest had born a Treeman, and the slaughter it and its dryad underlings had wreaked upon the Druchii said much of the forest’s magic and power.

[me_in_japan]

gotta remember youre dealing with an ork, here. Lyrical poetry is pretty much lost on him. Aim more for...

"We krumped da spikey pointy-ears good n proppa. Dey nivver even knew wot 'it em, an wen da woodsie-boss an' his lads got stuck in, well, dem spikeys were pushin' up daises faster n we could mulch em. In fact, da daises joined in, if'n I remember right..."

or something like that

i have to say though, that as a fellow pointy ears player i'm thoroughly impressed by the effort you're putting into creating a real flavour for your army. None o this "wargaming is just pushing bits o plastic around" crap for you. Much respec' to the hawklords *mij tips hat in KB's direction*

[Admiral-Badruck]

it was a fun read thanks for clearing that up... MIJ has it about right all the Elfyness is waisted on me the truth is I was having a hard time telling Elf from Elf.. BTW MIJ it's ORC in FB...

[kojibear]

Part 2

The longer I spent in my cage the more I began to see it as an extension of my soul. I certainly had the time to reflect on all I had done. Not all of my thoughts were of myself, of course. Aria and the witch held equal attention. In my less morose moments, I could even convince myself that I could win back all I had lost. At such times, I would dream of slaying the witch and presenting her head before Lord Talonverial. I would be cleansed by the cries of veneration, the stain of my crime washed away by redemption. Then, my dream would change. Instead, I stood beside the witch, both of us laughing as we stood on the cliffs watching the forest below turn on the Asrai in a frenzy of blood and slaughter. Aria was beside me, holding my hand and when the last elf’s blood was spilled, she would kiss me as she had done before. Then with the taste of her still on my lips, she would shove me off the cliff.
The dream always ended the same; the witch made sure of that.



Would you like something to drink? You don’t look well. They had hauled me into the Witch’s tent the moment I had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. No doubt she had orchestrated their cruel timing. I must admit, she continued, I was surprised that you so proudly announced your treachery in the great hall, not concerned, naturally, but surprised. I wish to confirm the source of your sudden selflessness. She produced a bottle of wine and poured a glass for herself. She brought the cup to her perfect lips and took a delicate sip before placing the cup in my hand. Her cool fingers lingered upon my own. Do you find me as beautiful as she? My hand began to tremble so she held it tighter and brought the cup to my lips. I found I could not stop her. The witch was obviously pleased for after I drank she smiled and kissed me. Did Aria kiss you like this? She whispered. She has another now, you know. Again her lips met mine and again I could do nothing. It would seem forgetting you took far less effort than falling in love with you. A tear ran down my cheek. The witch laughed and to both my relief and alarming displeasure, broke her enchantment and bid me to sit. I had only the strength to collapse to the floor. Now, tell me why you would betray me? Had I not given you that which could never be yours? Her expression had become cold and dangerous, but I was finished with lies and her taunting of me had emboldened me beyond reason. Because I know what you are, who you are. My exhaustion made my intended defiance sound quite pathetic to my ears. And who is it you think I am? I felt a small satisfaction in managing a smile when I answered. You are Drycha. The speed at which she moved was surreal, but the pain she inflicted upon me was very real indeed. Her grip around my throat was crushing and the tips of her fingers had become sharp shards of bark that dug painfully into my skin. That shall be the final time you will speak that name in your perverted tongue. She tossed me to the opposite side of the tent as though I were nothing more than a fist-full of fletching feathers. When she came and stood over me her flesh and voice were soft once more. No, Calanan, were I her, I would not have given you wine, but rather served you your own blood. I was in no condition to voice my skepticism, my head had struck the corner of a chest as I had fallen and it was throbbing terribly. Besides, all now believe you to be a deceiver, a purveyor of untruths and corruption. Not a very original design, true, but a tried and tested one. Do you know what I find the most amusing of all? All of your life spent preaching and warning against the very weakness that would ultimately corrupt your own pitiful soul. That is how you will be remembered, that is your fate. Though, I have the utmost confidence that you will do your very best to change it. You, Calanan, will always want for the impossible. My head had begun to ache less, or perhaps my anger had been stronger than the pain. It seems we both share that same flaw, I managed. The witch’s lips curled into a wicked grin. And yet, the success of one woman will grant us both what we desire.

I had no idea what she had said to convince them, but the next morning I was among those riding out in chase of Aria.

Day 1

The first day of riding had not been easy. The Mage Lord commanding the small force had set a desperate pace. Had I left the camp well fed, rested and uninjured, I might have managed along with the rest, but it was all I could do just to stay on my horse. And yet, the misery I felt the first day was nothing compared to the horrors of the second and third, when the dead awoke and the sky fell.

Day 2

Cold, misery and hate, they hung in the air like a palpable malevolence. The horses’ stamped at the ground and rolled their eyes back into their heads. The giant birds of prey bit viciously at their riders, refusing to fly into the cruel sky and cutting rain. Even the wolves, creatures of the night, growled fearful warnings into the dark.

Why had Aria come to such a place? This was a place of despair, of death.

The mage, Valnafein, was the first to push onwards into the black heart of the evil. He spurred his mount forwards until he stood before a gate of twisted and cruelly wrought iron. There he stopped and turned to face us. Brothers! Sisters! Brethren of Seth! Our Lord has bid us to find his Aria, his sun and air, our Princess! I go forward! I hunt with Kurunous! I am unafraid! Valnafein’s lion mount roared in defiance of whatever foul creatures lurked amid the mist that had somehow surrounded us. The Asrai around me took up the great beast’s call in what soon became a chorus of determined battle cries.



As if to mock our bravado, the gates opened. The dead welcomed us.

To be continued…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWjbW-JD ... 5DF&lf=BFp


Hawk Lords Game 2 Army Composition – The Chase for Aria

Beast Mage on Mountain Lion (Unicorn)
Hero on Great Eagle
Hero on Great Eagle

8 Glade Riders
12 Wolf(Wild) Riders
3 Warhawk Riders

12 Dryads
12 Dryads
5 Treekin

Vampire Counts – Conscription Duty (Jus to make the necessary correction )

Master Necromancer
Necromancer
Necromancer
3 Wight Kings

50 Skeletons
50 Zombies
20 Ghouls
3 Vargheists
5 Hexwraiths
Coven Throne / Mortis Engine

[kojibear]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9glqHuQ ... plpp_video


The rusted hinges of the gate into the mausoleum grounds pierced the air with a horrid keening. I watched as Zalnafein turned his mount just in time to bring his arm up to defend himself from a creature that had leapt suddenly out of the mist. I could not follow the creature’s movements; it moved with a quickness that was as unnatural as its grotesque form. Those around me, myself included, were stunned into indecision until Zalnafein’s pained scream revealed the thing’s violent intent and galvanized us into action. Eight arrows flew in perfect synchrony from mine and the bows of the other horse riders but at the last moment the creature flung itself forward with an intelligence that defied its brutish appearance.

Ultimately the creature’s cunning proved it had limits when Zalnafein’s lion whipped its head around and caught the fiend in mid-jump. As we closed in we were showered with its blood as the lion tore the head free from its body. The decapitated body fell some distance ahead of us. We all froze. The only sound was Zalnafein’s heavy breathing as he dealt a private war against the pain of the deep gashes the fiend had left on his arm. Despite the unnerving chill, I felt a drop sweat run down the side of my cheek. I dared not wipe at it for fear that the others would think I a coward. Yet, as I turned to check our flank, I saw that the hand of the elf beside me was trembling. I knew what he was feeling, the frightening knowledge that the Asrai were not the only masters of shadow.

The first sign that the enemy was again upon us was when the animals began back stepping. Their keen senses had smelt the death and rot long before our own. Only the great lion remained steadfast. Before long I too could smell their coming, a hideous stench of rotted flesh and decay. Out of the mist shambling figures began to emerge, each one a hideous mockery of life. Clumps of decomposing flesh hung from sullied bone and mouths hung open in a rictus of mindless malevolence. The inarticulate groans that came from from their lipless mouths bespoke of a single intent - feed. One of them bent down and begun to tear at the dripping flesh of the dead ghoul with swift savagery. Clearly, the things were not as slow as they appeared once they tasted blood.


Zalnafein, proving his experience and mettle yet again, began to bark orders and devise some kind of defense. The cavalry he shouted off to the flanks to find a way another way into the mausoleum ground and bring support from the rear. I doubt it was from my encouragement that my horse moved, but rather from the mystical urgings of the beast mage’s magic. As our horses leapt to obey the now lone and unaided Zalnafein, I looked over my shoulder to see the mage stand up in his saddle and draw power from the winds of magic. An amber glow surrounded him, slowly building in intensity until it finally exploded in a shower of blinding sparks, like a swarm of fiery embers. When next I looked back, the embers had transformed into flock of cawing ravens that began to feast on the undead with a ferocity that rivaled that of the zombie’s own. Before distance and the mist stole my sight of the mage’s private battle, I was heartened to see that at least the front line of the dead horde walked no more.

Overhead I heard the shrill battle cries of the hawks and eagles that had no doubt been similarly bolstered by Zalnafein’s encouragement and finally goaded into the air. My inattention almost cost me my life as I nearly fell from my horse as he made a sudden mad turn. I felt a pang of regret along with my relief for I had had to pull on his mane violently to stay on his back. Both feelings were soon replaced by something else, horror. Bursting from the mists came five skeletal riders. I was amazed at mine and my kin’s swift response, which resulted in a flight of arrows immediately shooting towards the clattering riders. One of the younger elves howled in triumph, but her elation ended in a choked cry when the arrows flew through our pursuers. The cackling wraiths spurred their skeletal mounts forward with an unnatural speed. It was Zalnafein’s call that saved us once more.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRLdhFVzqt4

The dead trees that scattered the grounds began to bend and break, their limbs twisting and curving at unnatural angles until they began to take on lithe female forms – Dryads! Whether it was channeled through the mage or the very will of the land itself to reject the corruption that had befallen it, it had chosen now to act. The dryads tore themselves free from the trees and in a frenzy of screams and claws launched themselves at the charging wraiths. The eight of us communicated to our horses to stop so we could support our fey allies, but the animals refused. You cannot hurt them. The message came clear through our bond with the horses, but we knew that the origin of the message must have come from Zalnafein himself. Go. Their magic is stronger. The Dryads cannot distract them long. Go! And so we left our fey sisters behind, their spirits to die.

[jus]

nice one Kojibear, I really enjoyed that last post... not just because it has my guys in it. Its also got pizazz!

Hope to see those named characters come in to play soon ! oh and great pictures as always.

[kojibear]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASj81dau ... sults_main

The enemy was all around us now, unnatural and unspeakable things marched across the dry earth. Some still bore a pitiful resemblance to life with grey flesh stretched taut over bone. More, however, were ancient skeletal frames brought to life by the darkest of magic. Our horses had already made the decision for us and we turned and began a long arc around the clattering horde. The faces of the skeletons did not follow our movement; their hollowed eyes stared ahead as they marched onwards with nightmarish grins.

As if the evil had sensed our abhorred regard, a hundred skulls suddenly turned in our direction with perverted synchrony. The bumps that instantly covered my skin I knew had naught to do with the cold. At the head of the skeleton horde were three menacing forms; their heavy plated armour and jagged crowns made them giants among the rest. Hollowed eyes glowed bright with foul magic, but there was no warmth in the look the armored figures gave us, only a cold, infinite dark. To my horror I could not look away, I felt just helpless as I had been in the witch's tent, but this was a far more frightening sensation. I wanted to look deeper into their glowing orbs, my spirit yearned to plunge itself into the blissful oblivion that the eyes promised.

Just as I was about to relinquish the last rights to my soul, my horse shook its neck fiercely and shocked me out of the Wight Kings’ trance. The horses of my fellow Asrai had clearly provided the same timely awakening for my comrades were all offering touches of thanks to their mounts. For the second time during the battle I felt ashamed that my weakness had nearly cost my horse’s life, so I leaned over and whispered my gratitude directly into his ear. And that, as fate would have it, was the second time I nearly fell.

The rider to my right suddenly bolted in front of my stallion, forcing him to pull up abruptly in order to avoid a disastrous collision which subsequently launched me into the air. Unfortunately, my years spent preaching in the council chambers had left my battle instincts rather unpracticed so all my skill could manage was a clumsy roll as I hit the ground. I am sure a dwarf could have landed with more grace than I had managed. Nevertheless, the desperate roll had managed to absorb a great deal of the impact and after the initial shock and anger had subsided I looked around for the reckless rider. It was the young elf that had yelled as we had shot at the ghostly riders. She and her maddened horse were riding in a straight line for the Wight Kings. The other Glade Riders had not noticed and were now too far ahead of us. It was only me who knew, who could choose to defy the evil and deny them the woman’s life. Later, my hesitation would disgust me and my indecision would punish me with many a night of tortured sleep, but thankfully I leapt on my horse and raced after the ensorcelled elf. Thus had I saved the last vestiges of a noble soul I still possessed.

By the time I had caught up with her she was almost upon the skeleton horde. When I drew my horse along side hers I could see that her horse was near to wild. Its mouth was foaming with blood and its rolling eyes were burning with an eerie red glow. The corruption of the Wight Kings was being passed to the poor horse through the mind-bond with its rider. I took hold of the female elf and dragged her off of her horse, letting the momentum of my own horse aid my starved muscles. To my utter despair, her horse did not stop once free of its rider and instead collided into the flank of the undead horde with a horrifying equine scream as it impaled itself on a score of rusted blades and snapped bones. The sudden rending of her bond with the horse started the female elf wailing also. Such was the anguish in her cries that it must have struck down the feeble wall I had erected around my own grief at betraying my kin and losing Aria, for my own tormented cries soon joined hers. I gave no instructions to my horse; I merely clutched the elf woman as tight as I could as we fought our separate battles with our despair.

Pain, it is the purveyor of the surest reason and wisdom, and without its unforgiving encouragement I would be dead. The terror that next assailed us tore through our own screams like a blade through flesh, piecing our ears and shattering the thin membranes within. Blood began to ooze through the gaps in our hands and down the sides of our cheeks as I am my passenger tried to keep out the ghastly screams. For whatever fickle reason, however, fate had seen fit to protect me. I would like to think that I had earned myself a postponement of its final reckoning by rescuing the woman. I will hold on to that hope.



My horse had duly taken us back towards the other Glade Riders, and only the fact that my horse was slowed from carrying an additional rider had saved us. When the horrific wails had ceased and I could once again find my senses, I saw what twisted creatures had produced it. Facing the Glade Riders ahead of us was a thing of pure evil, of nightmares. Pulled by a score of ghostly horses the floating miscreation assailed our brethren. Darting in and out of the mist that shrouded it was the source of the cacophonous shrieks, Banshees, and the ghostly females once again released their malicious wails at the Glade riders. Two of the Asrai dropped instantly, their minds too weakened by the spasms caused by the first assault. Their unfortunate horses soon followed. The riders that remained writhed in obvious torment, hands clapped over their bleeding ears. My female passenger then did something incredibly foolish, or noble. She had wisely wrapped her head with a part of her cloak to muffle the Banshees’ wails. That done she had taken my bow and was about to fire an arrow into the center of the undead construct. True to her character, she howled, but it was not a sound of righteous triumph. Instead, it was a yell of anger and bitter vengeance. My eyes followed the arrow as it sped towards the target of her rage. At the center of the flying horror, bathed in a foul light, was a throne of bones and seated upon the throne was to this day the vilest perversion of life I have seen. Whatever remained of the creature’s living form had been so twisted and befouled that to keep my gaze upon it for more than a moment caused my eyes to burn and my throat to wretch. I tore my gaze from it and expected my passenger to do the same. To my amazement, she did not.



I suspect now that it had been her fierce anger and hate that had allowed her to look long enough to aim and let loose the arrow. I opened my eyes when her howl stopped and she spoke to me. Did I hit it? She asked me, her voice unnervingly calm and quiet. I did not answer immediately for I wondered why she could not simply see for herself. But when she turned her head to look at me I understood. Her eyes were weeping blood; she was blind. Shamed by her courage and sacrifice I attempted to get her an answer. I looked back at the Mortis Engine and its evil Master but still I could not keep my gaze upon the creature. My failure brought tears to my eyes. She repeated her question. Yes. I lied. You pierced its black heart.
Before she could question my tears I willed my horse to turn and run. I had no direction except one, back to Zalnafein.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ryqLibx ... sults_main

[Admiral-Badruck]

this is geting to be quit the graphic novel man... well done and very nice pictures...