Tale of Nezahualpilli, Timeless Lord of Contemplation

[Note: as in some prior blog posts, I was inspired to write this battle report from the point of view of an enemy character]

Tale of Nezahualpilli: Timeless Lord of Contemplation

Nezahualpilli had seen this in the stars. He had watched for generations, knowing that the short ones would eventually arrive on their shores. The smaller manlings, with their axes and spades, were destined to dig deeply and unearth too much. Their lust for gold was insatiable, and only Nezahualpilli's small force could push them back to the sea before they tore at the land and further disrupted the lines of power that informed his thoughts and linked land, sky, and stars. 

Nezahualpilli had watched and contemplated, until the signs were right. Finally, the alignment of the stars and the swirls in the scrying pools had told him it was time. Two of his attendant Skink Priests--one white and one green--raised cohorts of Skink warriors, along with the sturdier Saurus that served his seat of power. One of the priests mounted a great Trogolodon, while the other led one of the Cohorts. They amassed near the Tetloc'thuanil River, awaiting their prey. Nezahualpilli hovered behind them, his body so ancient and absorbed with magic that his essence was nearly ethereal. The whole time, he hadn't moved a muscle. His palanquin floated with the power of his mind, with the directions telepathically conveyed. To the nearby Saurus warriors the Slann may have well been a statue for all they could see. 

Nezahualpilli had been correct. The short ones had indeed arrived. Their squat forms and heavy boots had trudged up from the beach onto the plains of the river delta. He could feel the weight of their trudging, the creak of their heavy instruments of war, and the slow progression of the baggage train behind them bearing all the tools of excavation and ruin that he had dreaded since the stars showed him this moment hundreds of years ago. 

The force that faced him aligned with blocks of infantry on the lizardmen's right flank, and thin lines of warriors bearing odd contraptions on the left. The blocks of infantry were clear to Nezahualpilli's mind: stout, strong, and determined--like his own forces. The groups on the left however, were less clear: what those tubes of metal were remained incomprehensible to him. The other line carried smaller versions of the great bow that was mounted on Stegadons, but surely such small instruments could barely harm his forces. And of the three wheeled items--a large tube, a set of small tubes, and a larger bow--only the bow was known to him. The rest left him with bafflement. They must serve some purpose, and Nezahualpilli began to contemplate the method that such items might be used for warfare.

Nezahualpilli was lost in contemplation, his mind constructing various theories for how the strange weapons might function. With him so distracted, his forces were left without direction--and decided to rush at the short foes who dared set foot on their lands. A Skink Cohort and the Jungle Swarms rushed forward into the small line of armored foes carrying the small tubes. Then, with a sudden burst of thunder, a number of Skinks and one Kroxigor were slain by gouts of flame issuing from each of the tubes. 

The battle was quick, and decisive for the short ones. They inflicted horrendous casualties upon Nezahualpilli's Jungle Swarms, decimating them by simply stomping on them with their iron-shod boots. Their armor protected them from all but the most savage strikes, and while a few were left crumpled from the remaining Kroxigor, the casualties for Nezahualpilli's forces were far too great and they fled. 

Now Nezahualpilli's great mind was racing. Should he advise his forces about encircling the tubes of death, advise them how and when to strike the blocks of infantry, caution them about the great might of the warriors that was far stronger than their size suggested? He reached out in his mind to the Skink Priests, relaying instructions as well as manifesting his magical power. However, the call of magic seemed slow--his mind was too rooted into the events of the battle. Nezahualpilli forced himself to forget, to concentrate, to leave thoughts of the now behind and focus on the magical energies.

However, it seemed like these short manlings were interfering with his magical prowess. He sensed one of their number who seemed rooted in the real, channeling power through symbols of sealing and negation. Nezahualpilli reached into the mind of one of his Skink Priests, and channeled a burst of flame into the leading group of manlings--the ones who wore no armor yet were racing toward his lines. A fair number of them fell, but the others were left undaunted. 

As the group of shirtless short manlings surged forward, they began howling. Their speed, despite the size of their small legs, proved too quick and they caught the side of the Skink Cohort where the white-scaled Skink Priest stood. With a frenzy of axes, he was cut down where he stood--instantly severing the connection to Nezahaulpilli's mind. The remainder of the Cohort, leaderless and flanked, fled and were run down. Nezahaulpilli took comfort in the fact that his Old Blood defender and Saurus Cavalry moved into position to charge the shirtless short ones from behind. 

Nezahualpilli's concentration was abruptly shocked again as the wheeled long tube released a horrendous roar on the left flank of his forces. From it issued a massive round ball, which streamed across the battlefield at great speed and collided directly into the Trogolodon. The beast didn't even have time to screech in pain, as the massive orb simply tore a hold straight through it. The shock came as the remains of the beast collapsed, crushing the Skink Priest riding the beast. Nezahualpilli caught a flickering of the Priest's consciousness before it too was gone. 

Nezahualpilli resumed his contemplation, trying to figure out a method for defeating the short ones. He was distracted with observation, deciding whether to follow the stars or learn from his foes, to observe or persevere. Meanwhile, the shirtless howling madmen had turned to face his Saurus Cavalry. Another massive blast of flame and orb from the large metal tube issued a shot that tore through the Cavalry, striking four of their number dead in an instant. 

Finally, the Saurus Cavalry was able to charge, their Cold Ones carrying them into the fray. Nezahualpilli was heartened as he felt doses of warm blood striking the ground--the shirtless short ones must be dying. Yet as his mind's eye watched, they continued fighting beyond death--recklessly pulling themselves even forward on spears in order to strike the killing blow against their foes. While a great number of the red-bearded short ones had died, they also had killed the entirety of the unit of Saurus Warriors--only the Old Blood remained. 

Nezahualpilli was now worried. His force was near decimation--and the short ones' blocks of troops had yet to reach his lines. He watched and saw that the leader of the short ones--carried on a shield lofted by two others--had stopped at a ruin of ancient danger. The massive carved skull predated even the Lizardmen empire, and was an artifact of most ancient power and evil. Yet the leader seemed to not know this, and accepted its powers anyhow. Nezahualpilli saw as the short one's aura darkened, his skin toughening with magical might. 

As Nezahualpilli turned his mind to this new danger, he tried to work out what it meant. Would this taint the short manlings as man had been tainted? Would they resist the corrupting influence? His mind cast forward scores of years, seeking the signs of this new happenstance. He was so distracted that he did not even see that the large metal tube had turned its sights on him. The tube belched flame, and a great orb sped toward him--direct on target. Almost as an afterthought, Nezahualpilli twitched a finger just as the orb reached him, causing it to drop from the sky turned to dust. His thoughts were vastly elsewhere, swimming in cosmic eternity, yet his reflexes protected him.

Yet while Nezahualpilli thought, his forces were under assault. The leader of the short ones urged his unit forward, sighting the flank of the Saurus Warriors. They crept closer, their armor and shields clanging. Yet Nezahualpilli was distracted, and his prior mental commands--to support the remaining Old Blood--remained their primary motivation. 

However, any aid would be too late as another block of the short ones crashed into the flank of the Old Blood. Their honed great axes swung in waves, while the last few remaining shirtless ones swung their axes with raw strength, striking even harder than those with two-handed axes swung theirs. 

At the same time the Lord and his metal-clad retinue managed to reach the flank of the Saurus Warriors standing in support. Their axes brought a quick end to ten of the Saurus, slaying them before they could even strike back. The strength of the charging short ones, plus magical runes that seemed to have been etched on the weapons from the foe who bore the seals of magical negation, were enough to leave the strong hides and shields of the Saurus nearly useless. With half their number cut down, the remaining Saurus fled before the advance. 

With his entire army demolished, and not a single banner yet left on the field, Nezahualpilli--Timeless Lord of Contemplation--cast his mind for why the signs had betrayed him, why his warriors armor failed to be enough, and why his leadership was so brittle and his forces so cowardly. The short ones stood back and regrouped, leaving Nezahualpilli enough time to slowly float back toward his temple city. The short ones at least were not headed there. Not yet. He still had time to cast them off his shores, but they would likely dig first, and dig deep. Their spades and shovels, their picks and drills, would leave the scars of destruction and interruption on the ley lines of his realm--leaving him less confident in the stars and less aware of the "plan". Nezahualpilli's contemplation, which had been his life for so long, had now failed him on the battlefield... and became even more clouded than before as a result. Yet somehow, as he slowly drifted back to his city, his plan remained the same: to think more, and understand. Thought would guide him out, it had to. It had to. 

Gaming Notes

This battle was a blood and glory match at 2,500 points per side. My force was mostly sturdy blocks of Warriors, Trollslayers, and Ironbreakers supported with some small ranged units and a few war machines. The Trollslayers were truly the warriors of the match, completely smashing one Skink Cohort and then standing up to the charge of the Saurus Cavalry admirably (their deathblow ability, allowing them to strike once after they've died, was huge in that case). The Dwarfs took out all of the Lizardmen's standards without losing a single one of their own, leaving only the Slaan Mage Priest alive--but the 2 fortitude points for the general alone was not enough to keep the game from ending.

As for painting, I got a little bit done at least. Added one humble Dwarf Clansman to my force:

From the painting table (mostly complete, pre-wash) to the riverbank

I'm trying to keep painting, but as I've said before the rumors swirling about the new edition have left my painting somewhat limited. Trying to get some more done! I'd be pleased to finish a full 2,000 points of some army right as 9th edition hits (hopefully not cursing myself to an edition that destroys the game).


Battles
Total 2015: 13 (Win/Loss/Tie: 7/4/2)
Total 2014: 15 (Win/Loss/Tie: 8/6/1)

Skaven:
7 Wins (Undead 2, Empire 1, T&T Daemons and Dwarfs, Siege Dwarfs and Bretonnians, T&T Daemons and Empire, T&T Dual Undead)
8 Losses (Lizadmen 1, Skaven 1, Empire 1, Dwarfs 1, Daemons 1, T&T Daemons 1, T&T Dwarfs 1, Special Game Nurgle)
1 Tie (Empire 1)

Dwarfs:
6 Wins (Lizardmen 1, Dwarfs 2, Wood Elves 2, T&T Undead and Dwarfs)
1 Loss (Dark Elves 1)
1 Tie (T&T Dual Undead)