The swamps were restless. The toads, which had never been silent before, now calmed down and hid, but there were enough other sounds. Mud chomping under thousands of feet, loud curses, armor clanging. Birds and… hobgoblins flew in the sky over the fetid swamps. The green-skinned squealing “shells” swept over the horizon in a beautiful arc to land behind enemy lines. Consisting of orcs, trolls, ogres and hobgoblins, the horde moved west, crushing everything in its path. And he was the most formidable weapon of the green army.
– SORM SHOOT!!!A powerful paw pulls the rope, a catapult creaks somehow knocked together, mounted on the back of the ogre. Another fighter flies towards the fortifications of the goblin empire.
– SORM CHARGE!!!
The team of “engineers” with whooping and hooting moves the catapult shoulder into position for firing. A new living “projectile” climbs into a leather bag.
– SORM SHOOT!!!
The rope actuates a primitive escapement mechanism. The hobgoblin flies away.
Sorm was the pride of the Horde, its strike force and secret weapon. The best orc minds have been thinking for a long time about how to lead something more difficult than infantry through the swamps. Not a single wheel or skids could take even a hundred steps through the viscous mess that replaced hard ground in the jungle. And then someone thought of tying a catapult on the back of a huge one-eyed ogre. The cross-country issue was not just resolved, but resolved with a couple of nice bonuses. Firstly, the “walking catapult” itself defended itself from enemies, if necessary, switching to melee mode and piercing enemies with a short spear. Secondly, the attacking giant in spiked armor frightened even the most desperate daredevils. What can I say, even the allies involuntarily shuddered every time when a loud voice rushed through the jungle
– SORM SHOOT!!!
The lightest, most vicious and desperate were recruited into the Sorm’s team. Indeed, even sitting on the back of an ogre waddling over bumps was no longer an occupation for the timid. It happened that a careless hobgoblin fell down and was immediately trampled into the swamp with powerful feets. Yes, and the accuracy of the catapult with such a gunner was, to put it mildly, terrible. But all this paled before the opportunity to land behind enemy lines and cover himself in immortal glory, slaughtering the flabby imperial goblins within their own walls. Therefore, there was no shortage of those who wanted to become “shells” for Sorm.
As yet another goblin camp fell and the Horde halted, one of the foot soldiers approached the ogre resting on a fallen palm tree.
– Hey, Sorm, I wanted to ask here. Why are you doing this yelling “SORM SHOOT-CHARGE!!!”? You are not a mindless monster. And as soon as you start to roar, you want to plug ears and run without looking back.
– Here, my friend, that’s the point. – Sorm carefully unfastened the fastenings of the catapult, removed it from his back and placed it on the nearest patch of relatively solid ground. Little hobgoblins bustled around the mechanism, checking the ropes and oiling the gears. – I yell – the enemies are fleeing from me, and not vice versa. And it’s more convenient to hit them in the back. Strategy, you know. Tactics.
– And the fact that you trample on your allies is also a tactic, or what? Beat your own so that strangers are afraid?
– Not really. – The green giant scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. – I just don’t see them. Midges stuff into the eye, so sometimes I trample a trifle blindly. But I’m very, VERY sorry.
– Okay, you’re compassionate one. Let’s play a round better, while our allies are clearing goblin camp there. – The fighter took out a bag of dice from his waist bag. – Here no tactics with a strategy will help you, and I have more luck than you.