Saurus
Malebranche
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I have started a lizardmen vs bretonnia campaign with a friend. The first battle went badly, with me not taking lore of metal, my slann getting only one of the spells I wanted and my scar vet on carnosaur somehow managing to get killed by a bret lord who DIDN'T have killing blow - as well as me making a lot of other stupid mistakes. The only unit that actually won a fight was my saurus block, who got charged by a horde of men at arms, tore them to shreds and then chased them off the table while my poor slann was left at the mercy of two units of knights. I decided to make my Saurus unit champion a recurring character for the campaign. Anyway, heres a paragraph of fluff, to be continued;
The battle was going well for the Bretonnians, and they knew it. As their lord drove his lance into the neck of the great reptilian monster before him, a cheer went up amongst the men at arms, and they surged forth as one. A large, swarthy giant of a farmer known as Rowan Crewe led the charge, bellowing obscenities as he aimed his pitchfork at the blue-scaled monster before him...
Texua hissed in annoyance as the primitive weapon gouged his side. He swatted the foul-smelling little ape aside with his shield, and another fell to his mace as its head was turned into a wet crater. More of the warm bloods crashed into the Saurus lines, and soon the air was filled with the smell of blood. Texua growled as the monkey with the pitchfork threw itself at him once more. He grabbed the creature by the throat and closed his jaws around its head, then twisted. It stopped moving, and was tossed aside. The war cry of the peasants died as quickly as it had begun, and they turned to run. All order was lost as the Saurus’ predatory instincts took over, and they charged after their prey, all thought of their sacred duty gone as the blood-lust took over.
The battle was going well for the Bretonnians, and they knew it. As their lord drove his lance into the neck of the great reptilian monster before him, a cheer went up amongst the men at arms, and they surged forth as one. A large, swarthy giant of a farmer known as Rowan Crewe led the charge, bellowing obscenities as he aimed his pitchfork at the blue-scaled monster before him...
Texua hissed in annoyance as the primitive weapon gouged his side. He swatted the foul-smelling little ape aside with his shield, and another fell to his mace as its head was turned into a wet crater. More of the warm bloods crashed into the Saurus lines, and soon the air was filled with the smell of blood. Texua growled as the monkey with the pitchfork threw itself at him once more. He grabbed the creature by the throat and closed his jaws around its head, then twisted. It stopped moving, and was tossed aside. The war cry of the peasants died as quickly as it had begun, and they turned to run. All order was lost as the Saurus’ predatory instincts took over, and they charged after their prey, all thought of their sacred duty gone as the blood-lust took over.