Orusus Zoktavir stormed angrily across the parade ground, his mekanical axe 'Lola' rapping against his armor in time with his stride. For a man with such a reputation as his, he was in a foul mood. His scowl and muttered grumblings did more to clear the various troops out of his way than raving or yelling, and he soon reached his destination, the tent of Force Kommander Radik Sashenka Grigori Egorov.
Barging toward the tent door, he suddenly found himself at the tip of two blasting pikes wielded by Iron Fangs of the Black Dragon. His eyes furrowed, and his growl came louder. Tension flowed like blood on the air, but before things escalated, a greybeard Koldun of the Greylords stepped from inside the the flap. "He is not yet ready for you Kommander." the wizard stated, his expression passive.
"I was summoned like a servant, now I must wait?!" raged Orsus.
"The Radik is soothing the ruffled feathers of the Drakhun, mighty one," the sage intoned, "He lost his destrier in the skirmish today."
Again, before another flair of temper, the summons were passed, and he was ushered into the presence of the Radik. He stood in his multi-hued robes, with his back to 'The Butcher,' a clear indication of the measure of safety in his own tent. Orsus silently fumed as Radik Egorov continued to ignore him, studying under hooded lids the canvas map of the area. Slowly he lit his pipe, and asked amid the cloud of fragrant smoke, "What happened, Kommander?"
"If given one more hour, I would have smashed every..."
"The task," the Radik interrupted, "was to take the high ground, Kommander. Not in an hour, not tomorrow, not in a week.... Today, now! Explain!"
"Why that hill? We were arrayed in good position! The berzerkers went forward followed by the Drakhun. Then the witch..."
"Haley. Victoria Haley, Captain and Warkaster. Try again." Egorov puffed his pipe.
"Captain Haley slowed the front units with her magic. It was impossible for them to reach the objective in that time."
"Your other units? The Men-of War? The Mortars? The Ternion?"
"All too far away."
Radik Egorov waited, intermittently puffing at his pipe, letting the seconds roll past. Zoktavir's scowl lessened, and the Radik knew that was about as much apology as he was capable of.
"Why that hill, Orsus? Should I tell you of the Kompany of engineers you have stalled by not taking it? Or of the artillery pieces we can not emplace on high ground? The data we now lack because no one looks out on our enemies." He rubbed his neck in agitation. "We are far from home here Kommander. Everything we have must come from home, by rail, marched overland, at the cost of the one thing we have too little of, and that you seem so adept at wasting. Time."
"What?" Orsus bellowed.
"We are surrounded, Orsus" the Radik continued more softly. "Cygnar, the Skorn, those druids harassing our flanks, and we have limited resources to draw upon." Egorov shook his head, "Your recklessness is costing us too dearly."
"Tell me, Kommander," the Radik said raising an eyebrow "on you last outing, who left a quarter of their force behind behind?
"Those men were not ready in time..."
"Those men were ready when I told them. I! Your force kommander," he fumed. He turned away, gesturing dismissively. "I have no use for you. When I need an abattoir, I will summon you. Go, report North."
As the Radik returned to his map, Zoktavir slammed from the tent.
Yes, so it's true, but not entirely unexpected. Many props to Red for having such a well designed force. And he knew all the tricks of his list too, where I felt like all I did was read my cards over and over. Yes the global effect was for someone to have a 'faction warjack/warbeast' on the contested ground by turn 3 and whoever ended a turn with it uncontested won.
Yes, I fielded a jack-less list.
All in all, I felt I got a lot of mileage off the 'fembot' Doom Reavers, was totally unimpressed for the second game in a row with the Men-of-War Demo Corps (hey, who's that waaaayyyy in the distance?) and disappointed by the relative fragility of the Drakhun.
Also, never send a man hunter to destroy a light warjack.