Race Wars (forum game)

[Coyotemax]

The orks need some love. I can't help but root for the underdog.


Bonesnapper slowly rose his head above the level of the ridge, and surveyed the valley below. There was a group of elves setting up camp for the night, and upon spotting the emblem displayed on the tent, he grinned to himself. He lowered himself slowly, taking no chances he would be heard even though the camp was over half a mile distant, and slowly creeped back to his ragged band of orks.

"Yer, I promised ya we'd catch up to the sneaky buggers. They're just over the hill. Setting up camp like they're at home or summat. We attack at midnight." Bonesnapper drew out a quick map of the elven encampment in the dirt.

"They should be expecting that" growled one of the larger orks. "I would. Double watch, guards here, here here, and here."

"That's why you're going to pick out 5 others to go with you, and take them out. As soon as you signal, the rest of us charge."

"6 of us? But they won't have more than 4 guards. Unless..."

"That's right. I know something you don't. They are acting too casual. They know we're following them, and there's not enough of them setting up camp, there's at least 6 in the trees. Who here has the best eyes? Come with me while Korg gets his group ready."

As Bonesnapper led the other ork back to the ridge, he thought back to the incidents that had led them to this position. He much preferred a proper fight rather than using geurilla tactics, but those elves had cut down the army the instant they entered the forest. Of course, it wasn't exactly a fair fight, seeing as they were fleeing a horde of giants, but that was all the more reason to hate the elves. At least the ork survivors he had managed to band together were well versed in the ways of the woods, as good as the elves in fact - and that's the only reason they had survived the surprise attack. Well, those elves were about to get a taste of their own medicine. It might be only 20 elves, but it would be a good start.

As the moon rose over the ridge at midnight, Bonesnapper heard the hoot of an owl. "Ok boys, the sentries are down. Let's take em."

He unsheathed his scimitar, and 30 orks descended silently upon the elven encampment. When morning arrived, there was no trace of the elves, or their camp. Bonesnapper led his warband north, looking for another patrol.






Orks +1
Elves -1

Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 30
Dragons: 28
Undead: 28
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 17
Drow (evil elves): 26

[Gamerprinter]

The Drow necromancer and House Wizard, Rhaeth, licked his lips as he examined the sutures where the limbs joined the torso and nodded with glee. He uttered the last sentence of the ancient animating spell, and the monstrosity ambled its way to its feet, only the necromancer's high pitched laughter was the only sound heard. Rhaeth reached up to its jaw and pulled to the left, it was still disjointed. As he reached for pliers, one of its six arms made a lightening swift grab holding the drow firmly around his head lifting him off the ground. Another clawed hand pierced is back exploding entrails onto its torso. A gaping crooked maw opened from the middle of its abdomen and a crudely stitched tongue reached out and pulled the Drows dying form into its maw.

After a few minutes, the oversized nostrils at the top of its head (?) flared wide. More living souls were nearby, so it lumbered toward the door, hearing the sounds of taunting and laughter down the corridor, the undead thing ambled towards them with an eternal hunger that will never be sated...

Undead: +1
Drow: -1

Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 30
Dragons: 28
Undead: 29
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 17
Drow (evil elves): 25

[Ghostman]

The Taste of Vengeance

Kira, the sole survivor of the cave-in which destroyed the Drow city of Naach, leapt from shadow to shadow within the halls of Ardins Hold. She moved with supernatural silence, her form fading into the cold air like a ghost. Acquiring that bit of sorcery which enabled her to move past the guards unnoticed had not been easy, nor cheap. The things she had had to do and sacrifice for it would cost her own life, for sure - probably damn her soul too. But she did not care. In her bitter heart there was room for but one desire: vengeance for the destruction wrought by Malivus Rockmaw.

The Dwarf himself had perished, so the bearded freaks of Ardins Hold would have to pass for a subtitude. Kira made her way swiftly through the tunnels, sneaking to every well-chamber and food storage she found along the way, poisoning them with a vile concoction. Finally, she found the tombs, the hallowed resting places of Dwarves deceased in these mines. Amidst the urns and caskets she could feel that her time was drawing close; the fell and demoniac entities that had lent her power were hungrily tugging at her spirit. She unsheathed a ritual dagger, thrusted the serrated blade to her abdomen, and with her final breath let loose a bittersweet curse. The tainted walls of this now corrupt catacomb would not offer rest to those Dwarven cadavers that'd be buried there after the poison had done it's work...

Drow (evil elves): +1
Dwarves: -1


Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 29
Dragons: 28
Undead: 29
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 17
Drow (evil elves): 26

[Imahilus]

For nine days and nights the furnaces in the bowels of Ardins Hold raged in a flaming inferno, three more days on top of the mountain the smiths toiled with a ember of rimefire so pure that it could melt metal. Nineteen days of forging in total they toiled, working feverously like a well oiled machine. On the twentieth, they were finished.
Duragai once again stepped into the dragons cave on top of the mountain.
Great Arzaghinar, I bring to you a token of our appreciation for thine help.
We forged this armour for you made from the lightest and strongest metals we have, our smiths worked for nineteen days straight forging it in part from inferno, and part deathly cold. Please accept our humble gift.
The dragon beckoned Duragai, and the moment he stepped closer lifted him by holding his head in between two of his fingers.
Dwarfss, you wills honour our ancient contract, wills you not?
Despite his position, duragai answered.
Great wyrm of frost, we dwarves honour our contrasts even if we would die by them. We forged this armour to proof our commitment, as you have allready done with the giants.
The dragon put him down again slowly.
You may present to me your gift.
A regiment of elderly dwarves carried in the armour, not letting it ride on a wagon but carried by the dignity they represent.
The dragon smirked, despite his cold heart and facade, he couldn't help but marvel the finely crafted pieces. Each piece of metal glistening like a pure sheet of ice, but infinitely times stronger and being addorned with exquisite engravings. Yesss, this will do dwarfs.
Duragai responded with a bow.
We will take our leave now, the undead are reaching the foothills, we must prepare our defenses.

Dragons +1
Dwarves -1

Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 29
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 17
Drow (evil elves): 26

(I reckon I'll be helping out with the orks a bit from now on)
(edit: removed typo...)

[shantedracule]

The lich looked through his scrying glass and saw the bodies layed in there graves. He slowly took the vial of myst and handed it to his imp. "Spread this across the Ork-lands, Mizzitf."
As the imp flew over the fields and crags he spreaded the mist. Every corpse the mist touched rose and shambled after the living. so begins the night of the orcish dead.

Orcs: -1
Undead:+1

Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 30
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 16
Drow (evil elves): 26

[rdanhenry]

I will participate just once, because I can't resist posting this.

In the moonlight, mail shimmered like a cold dead fish on things that had once been men. Unholy green light glowed in the eye sockets of an army of wights approaching the human seaport of Fishman's Landing. Soulless malice gleamed in their eyes. Deadly moonlight scattered from their weapons. An unnatural hunger in their damned spirits drove them toward their prey.

Then they became aware of another army moving through the night. A filthy, stinking, grunting army of war-hard fighters. Skulls and banners were carried, showing the signs of the Band of the Red Hand. This army, too, crawled towards Fishman's Landing. The undead horde changed their heading to intercept this new group. No longer did they seek out human victims, they preferred to accept this new menu item, Orc, the Other Wight Meat.

Orcs: -1
Undead:+1

Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 31
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 15
Drow (evil elves): 26

[Imahilus]

The orc grunted in agreement, to which the shaman proceeded and took out a knife and a human skull. Making an incision in the orcs right shoulder, the shaman knocked off the back of the cranium and inserted the remainder of the skull in the shoulder, sowing it back up afterwards. Dazhrag "the grinning" CorpseMangler had his new gruesome shoulderguard. He yelled at the deckhands to make haste. Up the sails!, grab yer axes! We be landin soon, n' wez haz lots o man to kill, maim, raze and pillage!

The crude ship with oversized proportions for everything was covered with gruesome momentos, skins being used to repair the sails, bones to repair the wood and many skull and flesh totems lining the sides. It slid onto the beach near Fishmans Landing. Crew! Ready yer axes, cleavers and bloodlust. Theze huumies not be like normalz huumies, thezez not give up when lotz be deadz, theze be deadz allready, die n' I willz killz youz again n take yer stuff! DEATH OR GLORY! he shouted, before running into the mob of undead wielding his two crude flails, ripping a limb or head a strike from the wights in a gory frenzy.

Orcs +1
Undead -1

Human: 23
Elves: 24
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 30
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 16
Drow (evil elves): 26

[Notsonoble]

Elves +1
Dragons +/-0
Undead -1
"Well, Small One? What do you think?" Martilhanis asked the sorceress.

"I think your right. The young are ready, and the elves are itching for a chance to get back some of their own." And so am I. Sharlissa managed not to add aloud.

"And your are pleased with the new findings in the spell books Karzoxia had horded."

"Oh yes, quite pleased, especially with some of the older tomes."

"Good, and the other thing?"

"I know you don't like it, but you said yourself that its natural... and at least the elves are as fond of Estihlass as she is of them." Estihlass was the smallest, and one could saw weakest of Karzoxia's clutch, but what she lacked in fighting and flying skill she made up in a truly powerful tie to the energies that dragons and elves used in magic. She was also the fastest shapechanger of the clutch, and extremely fond of a handful of the elves... to the point of spending more time as an elf than in her natural form. It was quite likely, if she survived, she'd hide herself in elven society. It was an open secret that more often than not "elven" sorcerers of the mountain ranges were dragons or their direct decedents.

"Then lets do this now. Tell the elves to begin marching. I will take the young out in time to swing around and strike the village from behind." Martilhanis said, and moved towards the larger cavern in the network of caves that was once the layer of Karzoxia.

A few hours later, a group of 20 elves, and one very prepared sorceress began a raid on what was once the largest village in Marlinlar's mountain holdings. Spells and arrows and maces began smashing, and burning undead. Five minutes later, the elves and sorceress fled into the hills, and used powerful cloaking spells to hide themselves from the few followers. Ten minutes later, Martilhanis, and the 9 children of Karzoxia the Red, swooped down from the hills and leveled ever structure, and walking dead in sight. Then landed, shapechanged, and moved into the hills once again with their own innate spells to finish burning and dissolving the stranglers while searching out their allies.

Human: 23
Elves: 25
Barbarians: 23
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 29
Halflings: 26
Giants: 25
Orks: 16
Drow (evil elves): 26

[Steel General]

Barbarians: +1
Giants: -1

I got a little long-winded with this one...

The water splashing onto his face woke Ghaath, then the pain kicked in. An agonizing, and burning sensation in both his face and lower extremities.

"In pain are you?", asked a voice so sharp you could almost feel the cuts on your skin.

"What do you think?", Ghaath gasped in reply. trying unsuccessfully to remove his legs from beneath the rubble. "You going to stand there looking stupid, help me out, or leave me to rot. Whichever it is get on with it!"

"Tsk, tsk...that's no way to talk to the one who hold your life in their hands", the voice replied, "I can get you out but then you have to do something for me."

"Such as?" Ghaath hissed.

"Oh, answer a few questions and do me a favor or two." replied the voice.

"Fine, just speed it up will you!", again Ghaath hissed in pain.

"Very well, first question...If I get you out will you agree to do the things I request of you without questioning them?" asked the voice.

"Fine, whatever." Ghaath gasped.

"Second question," the voice continued. "Do you want retribution for those that put you in your current situation?"

"Damned right I do!, Ghaath blurted, "On the gods cursed giants, the orks, and anyone else who gets in my way!"

"Excellent!" A shadow now moved over Ghaath and he found himself looking up into the blade like face of a man in grey leathers. The most arresting feature however were the eyes, a flinty grey that held no life in them. "Now, let's get you out of there." Everything went black...

When Ghaath next opened his eyes he found the stranger seated across a small fire. "Ahh awake now are we?"

"Hmmm...sort of", Ghaath replied wiping his hand over his face. The various pain he had felt earlier was gone. He sat up and gave himself a quick once-over. "OK, I've answered your questions, now first tell me your name and second what are these favors you spoke of."

"My name? Oh I have many names, but I suppose Syn will do. As for the favors here's the first one, put this on." The stranger tossed a wrapped bundle to Ghaath.

The bundle held an aged helmet, quality steel with downward curving horns. The helm would cover his entire face except the for the eyes and a narrow strip down the center. As he slipped it down over his head Ghaath felt a surge of energy run through him, then everything
went red...

The next thing he remembered was slipping the helm off of his head, the red haze gradually clearing. He looked about him and the ground was strewn with the corpses of dozens of giants. Shaking his head to clear the remaining cobwebs, he muttered to himself, "Where are we and what in the seven hells happened?"

"You took your first steps in repaying me for saving you, and extracting vengeance on your enemies." The stranger, Syn answered from behind him.

Ghaath looked at the carnage around him, "I did this? There's no way I could fight all of these giants myself? Last thing I remember is putting on this damn helmet."

"I think you'll be surprised at what just what you might be capable of given the proper tools," Syn replied, "and this is just the beginning. Come along we have much to do."

Syn strolled away, Ghaath hesitated a moment then trotted off after him, the helmet tucked beneath his arm.

Human: 23
Elves: 25
Barbarians: 24
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 29
Halflings: 26
Giants: 24
Orks: 16
Drow (evil elves): 26

[Imahilus]

After the undead horde marching towards Fishmans Landing was defeated, the orcish crew of Dazhrag noticed that the human village wasn't ravaged by them. The orcs couldn't contain their glee and started charging the village, making bets on who would disembowel someone first, or how far they could lop off the head. The town, lacking real soldiers, was slaughtered in under an hour, the houses pillaged and razed. Dark smoke rose from the village that day, continueing to glow with fires well into the night.
Dazhrag pondered, while the seas held many riches, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening in his homelands of the Dragon Craw mountains, beyond the Vale of Dead Men that he could see. It took him months to cross those three threacherous mountains. Snow White, The White Maiden and the Pale Lady. Cursed be their names.

Crew! Tonight we eatz well, next mornin we sail inland, there be lot more loot to be hadz frum deze runtish hoomins called halfkinz. They no put up much of a fight, they be short, but they be good hoarderz, means lots o loot.

One thing he failed to mention was that he intended to settle something in the vale of dead men.

Humans -1
Orcs +1

Human: 22
Elves: 25
Barbarians: 24
Dwarves: 28
Dragons: 29
Undead: 29
Halflings: 26
Giants: 24
Orks: 17
Drow (evil elves): 26