Zombies love me, fish fear me.
Who would carve such a rock?
How would it even work?
These are lubber-tier queries and shall remain unanswered, because its plundering time.
Break out the pirate beverages!
Noctilus can have some Wotsits or whatever.
Itsturn 32and freak winds from wherever winds come from give us a bonus to campaign movement.
Byturn 33, weve arrived at the next port city on our kill list.
We later discover he could have just removed his hat.
He has…not been using it correctly at least 70% of the time.
Shaken, he stumbles to his quarters to avast himself of a good nights rest.
Sunrise cracks the skyline like a ripe monkey egg, and its time for battle.
I load in and, just as the signs foretold, were already off to bad start.
I could not draw a worse map for an army that relies on artillery if youd avast me to.
Noctilus messenger monkey swings into his tent with yet more bad news.
“I am the melee force!
Thats like, five bad omens in a row now.
The first half of the fight doesnt go too badly for us.
Despite the foliage, our artillery manages to do some decent work softening up the approaching elves.
Remember when I said the map was terrible for us?
Its actually worse than that, since were at the bottom of a slope on the whole left side.
I could have set up further along, but then Id have the reinforcements arrive straight behind me.
Instead, I now have to deal with elven archers on higher ground.
My artillery does its best, but theyre still able to set up some nasty bow lines.
I manage to lay down my bonus cannons, then send Noctilus in.
Being a single entity in a mass of troops, they all clump up around him.
Its then I turn my entire payload on them, wreaking absolute havoc.
What follows is chaos.
And not the good kind, where we can loot the bodies afterward.
And not the other good kind, who are well known for killing elves.
Elves pile in from all sides.
Most of our mortars are shut down quickly.
The blows and arrows hurt at first.
Slicing, piercing pain, first as individual wounds, then as an indistinguishable wave of agony.
Noctilus has but one final thing he must do.
A deep curiosity thats lived inside him longer that hed ever admit.
As he falls, he extends a hand outward.
Is….this what grass feels like?
Is this…what Ive been missing this whole time?
Is this….happiness?
Noctilus died and never touched grass.
And neither did I.Fin.
