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6/22/2025, 12:41:26 AM
"We cannot afford to let up pressure! Run them down!"
Your aides comply, and without missing a beat, blare out their horns in message. It is simple, and your knights understand it well enough, their gallop raising in speed as they cross the valley. Though trading fires with them might have worked, there was no certainty that such an explosion would have worked.
Instead, you watched your knights, rapt, looking as they lowered their lances and crashed into the ranks of the giants, lances pointeed upwards, just barely able to reach their upper torsos. Those who had been wounded are the easiest of targets, unable to fight back against your horsemen who, outnumbering them two to one, spear them as though they were boars in a hunt.
Yet not all are wounded, and the ones who fight back do so with the strength of legends - unsheathing sidearms longer than the very spears your knights have, they charge into their attackers. You watch several men get cleaved by a single swipe of one such blade, plate armor crushed and cut as though it were butter. Worst of all, tough as they are, your knights are all but forced to abandon their lances in the bodies of those they have struck. In the face of such power, they quickly back off, breaking their assault to leave th reach of their perilous foe.
And yet, the enemy does not follow. The giants, whom you had heard could sprint as quickly as a horse gallops, stay behind - and then, retreat into the forest, dragging those amidst their wounded who were still able to move. Your knights, cowed by their strength and unable to follow them into the thick forest ahead, are unable to do anything but watch.
As quickly as it had begun, this ambush of yours had already ended. You consider chasing the giants, but knowing the forests around this region must have been far better known to these mercenaries than you, such a thought falls by the wayside. All that is left is to tend to your wounded: you tell your men to fetch the brothers of the Santo Cor
"Don Alessandro?" says Bartolomé, interrupting your thinking. "We should send some doctors to check on the giants. One of the lot may still yet be alive."
"Do you mean we should attempt to take one as prisoner?" you say, incredulous. You knew giants to be the most dangerous of prisoners, for reasons all too obvious. The chains necessary to keep one of the Triclopeans bound are of the kind one would use to chain a small boat!
"None but the richest could afford a troop of mercenary gigantes, meu seynor. These men must have been hired by the Fortelli themselves; they must know plenty. I can assure your lordship that no ill event would occur."
The man does raise a good point: but is it a risk you are willing to take?
CHOOSE YOUR OPTION
>Attempt to save one of the giants
>No, let them all die
>Write-in
Your aides comply, and without missing a beat, blare out their horns in message. It is simple, and your knights understand it well enough, their gallop raising in speed as they cross the valley. Though trading fires with them might have worked, there was no certainty that such an explosion would have worked.
Instead, you watched your knights, rapt, looking as they lowered their lances and crashed into the ranks of the giants, lances pointeed upwards, just barely able to reach their upper torsos. Those who had been wounded are the easiest of targets, unable to fight back against your horsemen who, outnumbering them two to one, spear them as though they were boars in a hunt.
Yet not all are wounded, and the ones who fight back do so with the strength of legends - unsheathing sidearms longer than the very spears your knights have, they charge into their attackers. You watch several men get cleaved by a single swipe of one such blade, plate armor crushed and cut as though it were butter. Worst of all, tough as they are, your knights are all but forced to abandon their lances in the bodies of those they have struck. In the face of such power, they quickly back off, breaking their assault to leave th reach of their perilous foe.
And yet, the enemy does not follow. The giants, whom you had heard could sprint as quickly as a horse gallops, stay behind - and then, retreat into the forest, dragging those amidst their wounded who were still able to move. Your knights, cowed by their strength and unable to follow them into the thick forest ahead, are unable to do anything but watch.
As quickly as it had begun, this ambush of yours had already ended. You consider chasing the giants, but knowing the forests around this region must have been far better known to these mercenaries than you, such a thought falls by the wayside. All that is left is to tend to your wounded: you tell your men to fetch the brothers of the Santo Cor
"Don Alessandro?" says Bartolomé, interrupting your thinking. "We should send some doctors to check on the giants. One of the lot may still yet be alive."
"Do you mean we should attempt to take one as prisoner?" you say, incredulous. You knew giants to be the most dangerous of prisoners, for reasons all too obvious. The chains necessary to keep one of the Triclopeans bound are of the kind one would use to chain a small boat!
"None but the richest could afford a troop of mercenary gigantes, meu seynor. These men must have been hired by the Fortelli themselves; they must know plenty. I can assure your lordship that no ill event would occur."
The man does raise a good point: but is it a risk you are willing to take?
CHOOSE YOUR OPTION
>Attempt to save one of the giants
>No, let them all die
>Write-in
ID: btUY/9RV/qst/6231466#6262893
6/22/2025, 12:40:15 AM
"We cannot afford to let up pressure! Run them down!"
Your aides comply, and without missing a beat, blare out their horns in message. It is simple, and your knights understand it well enough, their gallop raising in speed as they cross the valley. Though trading fires with them might have worked, there was no certainty that such an explosion would have worked.
Instead, you watched your knights, rapt, looking as they lowered their lances and crashed into the ranks of the giants, lances pointeed upwards, just barely able to reach their upper torsos. Those who had been wounded are the easiest of targets, unable to fight back against your horsemen who, outnumbering them two to one, spear them as though they were boars in a hunt.
Yet not all are wounded, and the ones who fight back do so with the strength of legends - unsheathing sidearms longer than the very spears your knights have, they charge into their attackers. You watch several men get cleaved by a single swipe of one such blade, plate armor crushed and cut as though it were butter. Worst of all, tough as they are, your knights are all but forced to abandon their lances in the bodies of those they have struck. In the face of such power, they quickly back off, breaking their assault to leave th reach of their perilous foe.
And yet, the enemy does not follow. The giants, whom you had heard could sprint as quickly as a horse gallops, stay behind - and then, retreat into the forest, dragging those amidst their wounded who were still able to move. Your knights, cowed by their strength and unable to follow them into the thick forest ahead, are unable to do anything but watch.
As quickly as it had begun, this ambush of yours had already ended. You consider chasing the giants, but knowing the forests around this region must have been far better known to these mercenaries than you, such a thought falls by the wayside. All that is left is to tend to your wounded: you tell your men to fetch the brothers of the Santo Cor
"Don Alessandro?" says Bartolomé, interrupting your thinking. "We should send some doctors to check on the giants. One of the lot may still yet be alive."
"Do you mean we should attempt to take one as prisoner?{/i]" you say, incredulous. You knew giants to be the most dangerous of prisoners, for reasons all too obvious. The chains necessary to keep one of the Triclopeans bound are of the kind one would use to chain a small boat!
"None but the richest could afford a troop of mercenary gigantes, meu seynor. These men must have been hired by the Fortelli themselves; they must know plenty. I can assure your lordship that no ill event would occur."
The man does raise a good point: but is it a risk you are willing to take?
CHOOSE YOUR OPTION
>Attempt to save one of the giants
>No, let them all die
>Write-in
Your aides comply, and without missing a beat, blare out their horns in message. It is simple, and your knights understand it well enough, their gallop raising in speed as they cross the valley. Though trading fires with them might have worked, there was no certainty that such an explosion would have worked.
Instead, you watched your knights, rapt, looking as they lowered their lances and crashed into the ranks of the giants, lances pointeed upwards, just barely able to reach their upper torsos. Those who had been wounded are the easiest of targets, unable to fight back against your horsemen who, outnumbering them two to one, spear them as though they were boars in a hunt.
Yet not all are wounded, and the ones who fight back do so with the strength of legends - unsheathing sidearms longer than the very spears your knights have, they charge into their attackers. You watch several men get cleaved by a single swipe of one such blade, plate armor crushed and cut as though it were butter. Worst of all, tough as they are, your knights are all but forced to abandon their lances in the bodies of those they have struck. In the face of such power, they quickly back off, breaking their assault to leave th reach of their perilous foe.
And yet, the enemy does not follow. The giants, whom you had heard could sprint as quickly as a horse gallops, stay behind - and then, retreat into the forest, dragging those amidst their wounded who were still able to move. Your knights, cowed by their strength and unable to follow them into the thick forest ahead, are unable to do anything but watch.
As quickly as it had begun, this ambush of yours had already ended. You consider chasing the giants, but knowing the forests around this region must have been far better known to these mercenaries than you, such a thought falls by the wayside. All that is left is to tend to your wounded: you tell your men to fetch the brothers of the Santo Cor
"Don Alessandro?" says Bartolomé, interrupting your thinking. "We should send some doctors to check on the giants. One of the lot may still yet be alive."
"Do you mean we should attempt to take one as prisoner?{/i]" you say, incredulous. You knew giants to be the most dangerous of prisoners, for reasons all too obvious. The chains necessary to keep one of the Triclopeans bound are of the kind one would use to chain a small boat!
"None but the richest could afford a troop of mercenary gigantes, meu seynor. These men must have been hired by the Fortelli themselves; they must know plenty. I can assure your lordship that no ill event would occur."
The man does raise a good point: but is it a risk you are willing to take?
CHOOSE YOUR OPTION
>Attempt to save one of the giants
>No, let them all die
>Write-in
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