The large tracked metal vehicle armed to the teeth

You grit your teeth and ride at what you judge to be the strongest of the enemy on the field. Several of your men cheer you on and your heart leaps as you surprise the enemy with your bravery.. or is it foolhardiness? A blast of magic sheers through one of its huge tracks, grinding it to a halt as one side collapses. The armoured sides are twice as high as you on your horse and you don’t really know how to break open its shell.

You are gathering lightning to lance into the metal casing when the arrows and weaponry turn on you and your horse screams in pain before you can even summon a counter. Your poor steed drops from beneath you without warning, sending you tumbling helplessly into the scrub. It rises to meet you with brutal **** as you cartwheel at pace, channeling **** desperately to control your breakneck pace.

The back of the vehicle drops open in a ramp and several armoured foes pile out as you crash and tumble across the rocky scrub. Your tattoos glow, their magic saving you from broken limbs but your head spins and you stagger to your feet groggily. Angry red streams of magic arc across the armoured shapes, burning savagely and turning one or two to ash. Your long sword whirls in your slightly unsteady hands, also claiming many victims as you struggle to regain your momentum. Eventually you are surrounded though, and though you fight valiantly amongst the smoke and stink of charred flesh you go down under ropes and clubs and filthy grasping hands. Your heart sinks as you realise you have failed your Queen and doomed your troops, fear welling up within you for the first time like a dark flower and you writhe in panic. An ominous shape looms over your struggles and there is a dark flash of dangerous green light and then everything goes black...