Good shock, poor staying

With our foothold secured, there was only one step next-to ram into the assaulters from the rear while they were deadlocked in with the more well-trained ****. Insectile aberrations charged on ahead, a disorganized mass that simplly powers through what forces had managed to try and face them in time-sheer mass bowling over several ranks before they came to a stop and truly started engaging in melee. I at first was right behind them, my own weight tearing up the ground as I headed towards the enemy-but I felt myself slowing down and stopping ahead of time, just watching while much of the rest of my troops played catch-up.

Oh. That Empathy binding again. These people weren't evil or good on any cosmic level-they simply had the very poor luck of being in my way. So I couldn't do anything to directly harm them-save for the very brave, and soon very dead, fool who occasionally sticks a spear into my hide, just to be smacked down and crushed under my bulk. So, I busied myself by making sure i was doing as much as I could indirectly to help-mostly via light applications of healing to those that had taken a hit.

As the brunt of my **** came into the clash, I had to abandon that particular avenue, as there was simply too much to try it with. While the initial hit had gone very well, now that things were dragging out the lack of discipline among most of my ranks was starting to present a big problem. Very few could properly fight in a formation-leaving them to get pushed back by the trained humans that could. Either too cowardly, or too vicious, the balance to do it properly was a rare trait without training.

It was fortunate that it wasn't my units alone-even if they weren't the best, the distraction provided a perfect chance for the more regulars to do their thing. Slowly, units were pressed down upon by both sides-and several, seeming to realize they were being ground out, fled where they could. I decided to encourage the latter with an impressive show. While I may not have had anything to allow for a menacing monstrous bellow befitting a creature my size (frankly, it was probably a literal miracle I could speak at all), technology can be a wondrous substitute.

In this case, a crude bombard that I had planned to once rest on the foundations of the walls had been carried into battle by me, relatively safe within my body. It wasn't much-spare pig iron and barrel straps melted by bored apprentices into a basic cylinder shape-but it didn't need to be. An 'alchemical firestick' (or a match, as I would call them) struck against it's rough side, and then hastily lodged down the barrel as I brought it forth, aiming upwards so that all could see the brilliant flash and hear the deafening roar of the entirety of my teaser supply used in one massive blank. Badly trumpeted after that, wouldn't be safe to even try a second anyway, so might as well.

Between our appearance and my display, it appeared to be a success-small groups turning to flee, only to be cut down as they run. I feel a bit conflicted as I watch much of the situation from up close-on one hand, disliking the waste of life, and the other with a swelling feeling of pride at being responsible for a crushing victory-until a curious sound started to ring through the darkness, snapping me back to the present. hadn't quite won yet. A loud snap of rent space, followed by heavy footfalls of fully armored troops-looks like they had some teleporters on their side. Now it was my turn to get hit by the back.