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#1
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Championship 2022 - Tribute Lore
This year at ScapeCon II, I had the pleasure of watching the Championship Finals between Evantage and ISB3. The game was highly tactical, and hard-fought on both sides. But beyond that, there was an awesome, thematic narrative to the game, in a way that only a Heroscape game could have - - so much so that I was inspired to write a piece of fan fiction as a tribute to the game. Tutti bravo to Evantage and ISB3 on an amazing Finals game. I hope you all enjoy!
Evantage (Laglor, Blastatrons x2, Parmenio, Sacred Band x2) vs. ISB3 (Kurrok the Elementalist, Water Elemental x4, Air Elemental x1, Goblin Cutters x3) Laglor stood before the remains of the ruined outpost, bathed in the vivid red-gold of a Vahallan sunset. The warmth on his back made him grin sadistically, for there were few better sensations in the world - - it meant that the enemy was facing the wrong way! Even now, he could make out the goblin horde squinting back at him from the other side of the knoll, blinded by the setting sun. Water and air elementals sparkled amongst their ranks, a dazzling cue that Kurrok was here for a dance. Laglor’s grin contorted into a snarl. How he hated that damned Elementalist, with his thin, greasy hair and high-pitched, cocksure rasp. Though he didn’t have even the slightest guess as to how Kurrok achieved the magic he did, Laglor did know that a bullet would put an end to the charade just as it did to any other soldier’s. And like a true Vydarian, Laglor took great comfort in that. Turning to his task force of Blastatrons, the primadon beckoned for them to begin the assault. “Pesky targets today, boys, but they’ll drop like vipers when you hit ‘em!” he laughed as they marched past, then stomped out after them, his broad banner casting a shadow of doom before him. * * * Kurrok nervously licked his lips. His goblin minions had sown the chaos he had intended, but it was looking like it might not be enough. That accursed gorilla had perched himself on a boulder like a 600 pound peacock, rallying his troops and grinning every time an elemental was cut down. “Blast it!” Kurrok cursed, and sprinting to his right, he thrust his staff in the air and tapped into the primordial vein of energy in which he had spent his life immersed. There was a loud BAM! and suddenly the wind began to swirl. “Yesssss!” he hissed through clenched teeth, and though his energy flagged, he focused again like he had never focused before. Then again BAM! and suddenly another water elemental shimmered by the ruin before him. Kurrok cackled maniacally, the laugh of a doomed goblin who had just manufactured his own salvation. How he loved his waters; any fool with a temper could command fire, could burn and destroy, and how he looked down on all of them - - especially that pretentious daughter of flame, Jorhdawn, and her punk-faced father. But to command air, to command water - - now that took real skill, skill that only Kurrok possessed, and very soon, Laglor and his crew were going to choke, or drown, or both, and he, Kurrok, was going to be the one to do it. * * * Laglor spat. It had been almost over until the hobgoblin decided to show off. Oh well. Cracking his back - the widest back in Vydar’s employ - he briefly considered hopping down to finish the job himself. But better to be the victor than the hero, so instead he decided to send in his melee bruisers. “Time for you to show me what I’m paying you for,” Laglor called to Parmenio, the Einarian leader who had been assigned to his unit. The warlord and his band of Greeks were covered in gore from harvesting goblins, but the steel in their eyes showed they knew their job was not yet done. “If we show you, will you finally pay us?” Parmenio jabbed back, and then flashing a smile of carnal anticipation, he signaled to his Greeks to flank both sides of the ruin. As one Greek kited around to Laglor’s left, there was a spray of water, immediately followed by a piercing shriek. And then moments later, a spray of blood cut that shriek short. Laglor stepped off the boulder and lumbered around the wall. There lay Kurrok, limp and twisted, staring blankly up at the sky. The battle was over, and Laglor had won. The primadon loosed a guttural bellow of savage joy, for of all his victories, this one felt the sweetest. The bards would sing of this one, he knew, not just for a year, or a decade, but for an aeon. Mid-Atlantic Regional Scapers (MARS) MARS D.C. - latest tourney "Enjoy every sandwich."
-Warren Zevon Last edited by Earl_of_Sandwich; July 31st, 2022 at 10:53 AM. |
#2
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Re: Championship 2022 - Tribute Lore
Well written, E_o_S! Likening Laglor to a 600-lb peacock was especially clever to me
~TAF TAF was the Storyteller... in THE ENEMY'S LAST RETREAT |
#3
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Re: Championship 2022 - Tribute Lore
Nicely done! I love good writing! that was a joy to read.
Sir Heroscape's Content
Customs, Maps, Battle Reports YouTube Channel, Trade List, 'Scaper of the Month, Burnout Format Tourney Record: 309 - 141 Online Record: 19 - 22 |
#4
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Re: Championship 2022 - Tribute Lore
Man this was like watching a sports narrator.
Feeling like an old lurker. 15 years, wow. That's half as long as I've lived. Love y'all like family. |
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