�Some Say In Ice: The Fall of Wei
As the enemy draw up their lines on the plains before me, I order Tjodulf to ready his men. The puny Jotuns take centre rank, while the two Jotuns hold the flank with an order to strike deep at the enemy rear. Tjodulf and I take up position immediately behind the front ranks. Thanks to the diminutive size of the Jotuns, I have an excellent view. At Last a positive aspect to these most stunted of giants.
In front of us dozens of heavy infantry backed by archers hold the centre while barbarian horse-archers ready for the kill. A Khan and an unmanned servant lead the armies of Tien Chi, a priest and a necromancer of some sort with flaming weapons and a host of spirits provide magical backup.
It is not enough.
As the arrows fall like hail on the Jotun ranks Tjordulf extends the blessing of my WORD in my NAME and the Niefel forces take heed. Power flows from me like a river as I increase their self-confidence, shield them with my divine magic, and bless them with the speed of the blizzard. The two of them tear through the screen of cavalry and fall on the enemy rear.
Meanwhile, I laugh with joy as I launch an unending stream of balls of ice and frost over the Jotun ranks and into the heart of the enemy formation.
I am awake again and none can stand against me.
But soon, too soon, the glorious battle is over and the enemy fleeing, though few survive the fleet pursuit of the giants. Few indeed, but enough. Enough to tell the unexpecting world that the giants are on the march. The necromancer does not escape. In mortal pain, he reveals himself as a Master of the Dead, a lowly functionary in the Divine Order of Tien Chi, and he tells me of this order and of the barbarians he serve.
And he tells me of the barbarian god. In ancient times the barbarians were a constant but in general negligible danger to the empire, as the clans spent most of their time fighting each other. Two hundred years ago, a great mage arose from the ranks of the Shamans, outstripping them in power like the sun unto the moon, and he made a pact with infernal forces selling his soul, not once, but twice, and he united the clans, and he conquered.
Yet, in his very hour of victory, as the Prince of Heaven expired on the Throne of Heaven, the mage was struck down by divine lightning from the heavens above. The devils who rushed to gather his twice-damned soul were frustrated in their goals, however, as he transcended death as a lich of incredible powers. Foreswearing its powers of blood for those of the lord of the Underworld, the lich tore the devils to shreds and continued its quest for supremacy where the man had left off. Now, in the fullness of its powers, it is worshipped by the masses, a master of death and fire, has assumed divine powers, and it attempts to bring the world under its sway.
These things happen all the time.
Yet it will be a hot day in Niefelheim before I let such trivialities stop me. The masters of fire have ever been my true enemies, whether alive or dead; Even undead, as the case might be. I will scatter its essence and end its legend.
Casualties having been light, with only two Jotuns dead at the arrowpoints of those cowardly archers, I order the men to bandage their wounds and get ready for the march on Hebei, the Imperial City, and the Throne of Heaven. I also let my WILL be made manifest back in Niefelheim, and the Jotuns begin digging out more of my Niefel guard from days of old. The Jotuns have proven to be unexpectedly fragile, so I might need a REAL army one of these days.
We march south.
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- mjlaufgr - Diplomacy is NOT an option. Only the unconditional surrender of my enemies is.
- Evil Dave - Thanks! While I have not read Keith Laumer's "Last command" short story, I will take that as high praise given the consistently high quality of his work.
- Wendigo - "May you slay a thousand children" indeed. That was the cry of an untutored youth from a backwards society, and obviously not applicable to the dynamic forwards-looking Jotun society of this day and age. Even if they are puny in size.