|They're getting close, now|
|They've reached the wall!|
|And they're in...|
|Ugezod's take the first section, with more behind them|
|A second tower arrives to heighten the misery|
|Yet another rampaging giant|
|The battle in the courtyard grinds on - those fimir fortunately never got a toehold in the city and their failure handily blocked the bulk of Snickit's rampaging ratmen from escaping the tunnel|
|See the monster by the blue dice? That's a hydra, that is. Evil beast!|
|The attackers get a taste of cannon fire. Mwahahaahah!|
|The view from my flanking dragon who made a right mess of the stonethrowers, alongside Erny's pegasus and hippogriff|
|Harry looks on proudly at his million-strong army|
|Dragon's-eye view. The game (even at this late stage) was MASSIVE|
Fairly soon after this, several general's had to depart and we fought on. When we called it time, the forces of evil had failed to make any significant entry into Avalone. They had one wall section but were under heavy fire... and a dragon was poised to sweep the wall clean. Meanwhile, the tunnel was increasingly clogged with dead fimir and unlikely to give them any advantage (although there was an ominous chittering behind them. Sort of like giant, enormously angry rats....). So, who won? Oldhammer won! We had an enormous, almost unplayable game, stuffed with gorgeously painted lead, commanded by up to a dozen players using rules most were only vaguely familiar with, and it worked. Stone me, it worked! We all got on really well, drinking into the evening after gaming through the day. No lost tempers, no aggro, no nitpicking over rules, multiple GMing by consensus... and I still grin when I think of it. Thank you, gentlemen, and well played.
Edouard stared out across the plain. The monsters had been beaten back once more, although at a heavy price. Not one in three of his men would see this sunset and all the rest would bear the scars of their survival. At least the women and children had mostly left now, streaming south under the watchful care of those Estalians (swanky buggers, but more scared of their own powder than the legions of horrors outwith the walls to give them their due. And they'd apparently fought off some man-rats who'd tunneled into the city. Edouard still wasn't sure he believed that man-rats existed, but the Lady alone knew; the things he'd seen this last se'en-night...). He hawked and spat over the parapet. The word was that they'd man the walls for two more weeks to give the townsfolk time to make good their escape, then follow. Avalone would die, for certain, but hopefully its people wouldn't. Not all of them.