I grabbed it with my free hand.
You have retrieved your banner!
Five Second Warning!
Amara descended on me, bringing her sword down with a heavy swing.
From the ground, I barely deflected the blow. The tip of her blade sliced my abdomen.
Four Seconds!
I tried to scramble to my feet, but another swing from Amara kept me down as I blocked it. She was screaming like a maniac.
Three Seconds!
Then I realized what I needed to do. The banner didn’t just need to be removed from the altar. It had to be taken off the platform, too!
Abandoning my own defense, I clutched the banner close to me with one hand and, dismissing my sword, used the other to crawl/fall backward to the edge of the platform which was only a few paces away.
Amara stayed close and slashed my left thigh.
Two Seconds!
My health was now at five percent and one leg refused to cooperate. Still, I managed to twist my body around and throw myself toward the platform’s edge.
One Second!
With both arms outstretched, I slid along the platform on my side like sliding into home plate. The bottom end of the banner’s wooden handle slipped over the very edge of the platform to touch the dirt outside it.
The banner vanished.
Your banner has been returned to base!
But I didn’t have time to process this, let alone celebrate. I looked up as Amara loomed over me.
I saw the briefest image: Amara bringing her sword down upon me, eyes wild with rage. And towering behind Amara was Grax, the ogre’s clothes and hair aflame. He, too, was swinging his flaming log-club downward, but at Amara’s head.
Then my view-screen went black, and a message appeared.
You have been slain in battle!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My heart was racing and sweat cloyed at my skin beneath my simulation suit.
I felt jubilation at recovering my banner having no clue what had been required to do so. This only strengthened my resolve to play Battle Fields more often and perhaps study guides on military strategy.
Now I can see why Thorm became so addicted to them. Those last few moments fighting at the platform were some of the most intense I’d experienced playing this game in years. There were previous tough encounters, but not quite like that.
And I hoped there would be many more.
My thoughts went to Amara. She’d used that flaky hologram trick as a weak ploy to buy her time while she fetched the Flame Treant champion. And it worked, too.
Was Grax okay? Before dying, I didn’t get the chance to see if more enemy units were racing toward the platform. As far as I knew, he was the only one left standing after all that fighting.
But as the blackness of my screen brightened to reveal me laying in the crypt, my attention shifted from my wounded champion to my wounded Keep.
The map revealed that the enemy troll grunts, backed by archers, had attacked the base. The Keep was damaged to just under half its hit points.
Thankfully, both the footmen and archers I set to training had emerged to stop the assault.
Now, both forces were entangled in a ferocious fight. Even down in the crypt I could hear the clashing of weapons and screams of the dying.
Amara Frostwalker has been reborn to the world. Let the Battle continue!
I felt a little sense of victory knowing Amara had been squashed like a bug by Grax. But when I looked at my combat log, I’d only received 100 Battle Points for her death, while she got 1,000 for mine.
It had to be because I wasn’t the one who killed her. Whatever. I’ll take it for now and hope to come across another champion to spend it on.
I leapt from the slab and raced up the stairs. Emerging from the floor of the Keep revealed the damage which had already been done. Huge cracks webbed the walls and black smoke filled the upper ceiling.
But even through this I saw the Lookout wave down at me, then disappear.
Not wasting another moment, I raced outside.
Troll grunts lunged at footmen who parried and countered. My human archers had taken up position to one side of the archery range and fired volleys at the troll archers standing a short distance to the north.
I judged the strength of both forces to be about even. But now I joined the fray.
Striking out at the nearest troll, I dodged a spear jab by rolling to the ground. Standing, I thrust my sword up through the jaw of another troll.
A flashing icon on the map drew my eyes. It was Grax asking for new orders.
What was I doing? Other things needed my immediate attention right now. Fighting would come second. My men could handle this for a few more moments.
I ran through the fight to stand in the doorway of the Keep, mindful of arrant arrows and spears.
Grax appeared severely injured, but alive.
“I need more trolls to crush,” he told me from the chat view. His hair and eyebrows were all gone, burnt away. Wisps of smoke curled up from his blackened flesh.
With a laugh, I said, “Don’t worry, there will be more trolls. I promise.”
He peered about, somewhat disappointed. “Now what shall I do?”
Good question. Bringing him south to the base would be helpful. He could help guard while I repaired the buildings and built up another army.
But that would leave the platform undefended. Right now, with Grax there, it was in my control. Even if Amara managed to sneak down here and snatch the banner away again, she’d have a burnt, angry Grax to contend with when she reached the middle.
Also, without a scout or other unit in the vicinity, Grax could see what was coming from the north. And maybe keep them from moving further south just by his presence.
It wouldn’t last long. He was injured and alone now. But as a temporary stopgap it’d have to do.
“Guard the platform. If a solo unit is dumb enough to try to cross it take them out. But if there is more than you can handle, fall back, and come to the base.”
Grax frowned. “I can handle all units. No problem. I hope I don’t have to wait too long.”
I hoped we got to wait a long time and closed the chat. Time was needed now to get things in order.
The sound of the surrounding battle brought my thoughts back to the immediate situation. I went into the command menu and put another footmen and archer unit into training. Thankfully, my workers had been diligently mining away this entire time so gold was not an issue. But it soon would be.
With a final check of the map, I then launched into the fray, sword swinging.
In less than a minute, I helped my footmen eliminate the last of the grunts. Then we ran at the archers who managed a single volley before my forces cut into them.
One archer managed to hit me in the thigh which only ticked me off. More sword swings (and a little swearing) and the archers were decimated.
I looked around. The remaining men of my two units raised their weapons in a cheer.
“Yay for us,” I said, but didn’t feel it. There was too much to do. Right now, Amara was frantically building up an army, and I had little doubt she would make it sizable before marching south.
I assigned the footman to the banner altar. They would not move from there ever again if I had anything to say about it.
The archers, I sent north along the western curve to link up with Grax. I ordered the unit leader to assemble in a double line formation on the south edge of the platform. That way, they could support Grax when he engaged any approaching units.
It wasn’t much but still better than nothing.