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The Devil's Due: The Mongolian Horde

Commissar Draco

Codexia Comrade Colonel Commissar
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Insert Title Here Strap Yourselves In Divinity: Original Sin Project: Eternity Torment: Tides of Numenera Wasteland 2 Divinity: Original Sin 2
A we should plan our vengeance; found something which will make tumen look bad in orda eyes and take his life as well as position. With entire Tumen under our orders we can play warlord... this is how Divine Roman started after all.
 

Baltika9

Arcane
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Jun 27, 2012
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9,611
I don't think our men will trust in us so much anymore if we don't make some kind of show of force.
They were embarassed enough already. Let them get some pride in their unit and commander back.
 

ERYFKRAD

Barbarian
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Strap Yourselves In Serpent in the Staglands Shadorwun: Hong Kong Pillars of Eternity 2: Deadfire Steve gets a Kidney but I don't even get a tag. Pathfinder: Wrath I'm very into cock and ball torture I helped put crap in Monomyth
Hmmm, flipping to E. Fuck superiors, all they're good for is getting you shot at for nothing.
 

Esquilax

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A we should plan our vengeance; found something which will make tumen look bad in orda eyes and take his life as well as position. With entire Tumen under our orders we can play warlord... this is how Divine Roman started after all.

Yeah, I'm not down with greasing our commander either. Even in this violent, militaristic culture, you can't just off your superiors without a damn good reason.

As far as I know, in Mongolian culture, having one's head shaved is considered a grave insult. The 100 lashes were ordered from our superior and we must grudgingly accept them, but being humiliated in this way was not part of the deal - whoever did this needs to die. We lost face in front of the other zuuts, but this will make us respected and feared again, and in turn it'll put some pride in our own men again.

"You are an interesting problem, a situation that I must find a way to creatively deal with. Your men are loyal to you to a fault. They will not follow another. And I would not give them another Zuut. There is not one with your capability in the entire province. Therefore, I must deal with you more creatively. I will be foolish and give you a choice.

The Tumen reminds me a bit of LaCroix: he'll send us on suicide missions, because it's a win-win for him whether we live or die. If we live, we serve his goals, but if we die, he gets rid of an insubordinate underling who might cause him problems in the future. The guy is slick. Now, to cover our own asses from potential fallout, we have to prove ourselves indispensable to the Tumen so that he can't just kill us, and that means taking the more dangerous mission, meaning we hit the KMT.

B
 

Major_Blackhart

Codexia Lord Sodom
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Nope. Voting continues.
Still gotta wait a lil while.
I gotta look at the pictures of the mountains of Sicchuan province, and check to see things.
 

Major_Blackhart

Codexia Lord Sodom
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Crap, didn't realize how long it had been since it was updated. Sorry bout that.

Choice B.


Sukhbataar said nothing to the Tumen at first. Slowly, he turned to the weathered old general and smiled. There was not a hint of warmth in that grin, no respect, only vicious coldness. Had he been covered in flames and burning he would not have been more comfortable at that moment. The Tumen regarded him warily for a moment, recognizing that crazed look, seen before in the most brutal of fighting in the Korean campaign against the Japanese.
"I'll take that fucking mountain, Tumen," Sukhbataar said quietly. Despite his animated face, his voice was flat and monotone, dead sounding. "I'll take it, and burn it down. I'll burn it all down, Tumen. I'll show those fucking goat herders what it means to face the horde."
The Tumen said nothing, his scarred leathery face keeping his emotions hidden. His one eye appeared livid and lively, and if Sukhbataar had paid attention, he would have wondered what the Tumen was thinking. The Zuut was in his own world now, and as soon as the Tumen unceremoniously exited his tent, several of his men came in and stood still, waiting for an order. Sukhbataar came down from his mania for only a moment, turning to them to acknowledge their presence with a nod and a smile.
"We make ready for war. Take my clothes and armor, my weapons, all outside. Build a fire pit, and come to me when it is ready." The men nodded and left. Sukhbataar paced his tent, already formulating his plans. Victory, revenge, strategy, tactics, all of it was synonymous. Spittle foamed at his mouth as he walked back and forth quickly, circling his tent like a lion its cage.
His men came for him, and Sukhbataar said nothing but stripped himself completely. Naked, he walked outside, his wounds ragged but healed. Mostly. His head was shaved but now covered with a thin stubble, as was his face. His men stood at attention, all of them, but he said nothing, not acknowledging their presence, as if he were still in his own world. He took his large knife from the pile of his belongings set out before the fire. Unsheathing it, he eyed the steel and licked his lips lustfully, as if he were about to ravage a girl. He placed the blade into the fire and then began to dress. The pants came on first, then the boots. The shirt was difficult as his back still hurt. Then, he stopped and turned back to the knife. The blade was red now, burning with heat. Taking the weapon from the flame, the flesh of his hand sung in pain, but he fought past it, knowing there was so much more to come.
The blade in his right hand, with his left he held his left ear. In a quick motion, with such maddening rage, he cut into his own flesh at the base of the ear, lopping it off in a quick motion. The flesh was red, raw, seared, but not bleeding. The pain was blinding. He'd been shot before, stabbed, many times, and this was worse than most of those. He screamed angrily, bellowing bloody murder, cursing all he saw. And then he moved on to his right ear.

*****

The earless Zuut made arrangements for the supplies and maps to be delivered to his tent. He would need a new lieutenant, a new Ganzorig. It was not something he looked forward to, and so he decided that he would only do so after they had won the day. He read the reports over and over again, studied them, memorized them, the landscape, the maps. For a day he'd worked it over in his head, and still, there were only a few good ways to attack the fortified mountainside. The squad commanders in his tent looked at him expectantly, hoping to hear a decision on how to attack. He disappointed them.
"Upon assessment of the situation only then shall I decide the method that best suits the Zuut," he said forcefully, with authority. His men sighed and nodded in disappointment. A truer Mongolian there was not. He would never commit himself until he was sure it would lead to victory. There was a commotion outside his tent though he paid it no heed. His squad leaders looked at him questioningly but he said nothing. The curses were louder now, right outside the entrance. A scuffle, men fighting, insults hurled. Suddenly thrown into the tent were the two men, the guards of the Tumen. Thugs were more like it. They who had so delighted in administering that humiliating punishment. They were stripped naked, beaten and bound at the wrists, their hands behind their backs.
"They don't look so scary now with their pricks in the dirt, do they?" Sukhbataar said to no one in particular. His squad leaders backed away as the two men who captured them stepped through the entryway of the tent. They said nothing, standing triumphantly as if they were hunters that had just downed a great monstrous beast. They backed away quickly as Sukhbataar approached, a lion chasing away the hyenas.
"Which one of you was it that so enjoyed insulting me in such a way, hmm? Which one of you shaved my head and face so sloppily?" They said nothing, glaring back defiantly, as though they were untouchable. Sukhbataar stared at them. He knew the look they gave him, that ignorant glower of invincibility. Their patron would not save them.
"I want you both to know, I don't care which of you did," he drew his knife, still sharp, the once bloody edge clean and oiled. The weapon rang out as the metal slid against the leather sheathe. "I'm going to enjoy myself either way." Without saying another word, Sukhbataar knelt and grabbed the nearest one by his hair. The dirty, oily skinned bastard, his face riddled with pockmarks, had not bathed in weeks. Sukhbataar grinned as he pulled the man's head up by the hair and stuck the blade into his scalp. With a sawing motion, back and forth, he pulled harder, separating the skin from the skull. The man screamed in pain, drowning out the sickening sounds of the knife sloshing against the bloody flesh. With a final forceful swipe, it was done. Sukhbataar scalped him. But he was not done. Flipping him over onto his back, Sukhbataar reached for the man's genitals. The screams became high pitched, agonizing, unrelenting, unending. Sukhbataar threw his victim's penis into the fire pit in the center of his tent. Without a second thought, he stood and threw his monstrous blade into the man's chest, effectively pinning him to the dirt below. He died agonizingly, and they all watched as he bled out. Sukhbataar did not know if he bled to death or drowned in his blood from the chest wound. He did not care. All that mattered was that his torturer suffered. Then he turned his attention to the other. The second thug had soiled himself, releasing his bowels and bladder all over himself in absolute fear. He whimpered and shook, terrified. He mumbled incoherently as Sukhbataar walked slowly to the spot where he slept. From the bedding, he retrieved a heavy axe, something he'd taken from the armory earlier in the day. A heavy weapon, he carried it in two hands. The haft was wood with steel reinforcements. The axe head was narrow and short for a vicious blow. Casually, Sukhbataar walked back to where the man lay whimpering, shaking his head, begging again and again no no no no no. Sukhbataar paid him no mind. With an unsettling lack of emotion, he raised the axe over his head and struck at the man's foot. His victim screamed. Sukhbataar raised the axe and brought it down again. Then again, then again. Each time, he traveled a few inches further of the man's leg. Hacking through bone and sinew with an ease that demonstrated his physical prowess, Sukhbataar continued his grisly work long after his victim ceased to be. When he finally ended his butchery, he had hacked off both legs up to mid thigh. Sukhbataar had effectively turned his tent into a charnel house, a house of horrors. Blood stained the heavy cloth walls from his violent actions, the ceiling dripped with the stuff. The floor of his tent had become muddy, black with blood and ichor. He dismissed his men, ordering them to display the dead prominently outside of his tent.
"Use the spears," he said, grinning.

He had avenged himself.

*****

The bodies hung in the air outside his tent rotting for two days. Sukhbataar said nothing, but the entire camp was alive with whispers of the mad Zuut who butchered his enemies, of the Zuut who defiled his body out of rage, of the man who woke up screaming in the night of things in the shadows. The Tumen said nothing, as Sukhbataar knew. Perhaps the Tumen would revenge himself against the insult Sukhbataar had struck him with. Sukhbataar did not sit around to wonder. The next two days, Sukhbataar prepared himself and his Zuut. He had by right absorbed the rocket teams of that treacherous Nergui, disaffecting his own losses. But even then, he did not rest on his laurels. He went to every Zuut who would listen. Most did out of fear. Others, they avoided him for the same reason. This wild eyed Russo-Mongol with the handsome face intentionally marred, who insulted the Tumen openly, who butchered his enemies, who was said to be like a demon upon the field of battle. Not a beast, not a man, but a demon. Of those that listened, two more Zuuts were swayed by his passionate words, inflamed, reminded of what it was to be a Mongol again. They were not meant to guard the borders, but to ride, trample their enemies under the thundering hooves of their steeds, slaughter and burn all that lay before them. He reminded them that they were war incarnate. And they would follow him.

*****

Over three hundred men assembled, on the third day. On the third day, they left, heading to the west, to the mountains. Their force was led by three men, all ambitious, bloodthirsty, and one with questionable sanity, who ranted and raved at the taste of blood, that the hordes of old must have swum in it. Sukhbataar carried the newest collection to his ever expanding arsenal, his battle axe, everywhere he went. It became the symbol of his office in a way. He made it so. The other Zuuts deferred to him, his experience, his battle lust. They deferred to his cold butchery.
It took two weeks to reach the base of the outskirts of the territory held by this enemy, the base of the mountain. Sukhbataar had with him not only horses and men, but rockets, mortars, and howitzers even. And over three hundred men to man them. The cold air that swept in from the mountains refreshed him greatly, filled the Zuut with a life energy he had not known in some time. He licked his lips tentatively as he looked at the landscape before him. He knew his forces had been spotted. He made no secret about their arrival, taking the fastest and most obvious routes. He had seen their scouts in the distance at times, riding out of range. He did not pursue them, nor let his men. "Let them know we are coming," he'd say, "Let them know they will have a bloodbath on their hands!" Now, as dusk fell, he sat on his horse staring up the mountain, wondering how to proceed.

A.) The mountains are incredibly steep on one side. The village itself, now a small town in size according to reports, is facing away from the steep slopes. Using a portion of Sukhbataar's forces to scale the mountainside, they will attack from the rear while the remainder of the forces launch a series of feinting attacks on the front, minor skirmishes. If this option is chosen, the attacking force, led by Sukhbataar, will forgo the use of horses, rockets, and most heavy weapons, having only mortars and machine guns as their only offensive weapons, and those will be few in number. They will make their moves in the night under the cover of darkness while their allies pelt the gentler slopes with cannon and rocket fire, advancing slowly.


B.) A full frontal attack in the cover of darkness is the only logical move for Sukhbataar to take. It is the choice of a warrior. Under a constant hail of rockets, mortars, and howitzers, Sukhbataar's forces will advance. The enemy will be pinned down and unable to return fire until Sukhbataar's forces advance so far that their artillery support will have to cease fire less they strike their own men. They will advance in the cover of darkness, using howitzer flares to light their way and scouts to guide them.


C.) When a man can make no movement that will bring obvious victory, often the best action he can take is none at all. Sukhbataar will do nothing. The mountain has no farms nor land for grazing. They have the best paths, the ones for herding animals through, covered at this point. Up above, they have a town that was never meant to support that many people. The logistics of it all are against the rebels. Instead of attacking, dig in. Trap the paths with explosives, grenades, anything. Wait them out. They'll attack out of desperation soon enough, and when they do, they'll maneuver themselves into a deadly crossfire they won't ever get out of.
 

oscar

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I'm not saying it's the case here but it can be a mistake (that I've seen before in LPs) that because an option looks crafty or sounds intelligent that it is. The smarter sounding option isn't always the smartest choice.

These goat-herders will probably rout at the first sight of a rocket. We lugged all this artillery up here, we might as well use it.

I don't think C is a bad idea either. It sounds reasonably Mongolian to me to just sit it out laughing while the fools starve in their castles and forts.
 

Cassidy

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B

If it was a major city, it would be suicidal, but with all that heavy support, it may be costly, but victory will be certain, while A is risky because it may end to either extreme: almost no casualties for the Mongols or a total disaster, while C is giving time for enemy reinforcements to arrive.
 

Major_Blackhart

Codexia Lord Sodom
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I'm surprised most people are going A.
Most obvious is not always the best.
And read previous updates as well.
These villagers may or may not be better armed.
 

Gondolin

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Very well, I'll withdraw my vote.

D - send recon units up the mountain while preparing for attack.
 

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