A gesture of his left hand saw that flank surge forward, led by the fierce looking but weak warhounds. They charged fearlessly into a wall of spears.
Varangia knew the spearmen would handily dispatch the dogs, but it mattered not...they were expendable. If they drew the elfs near his Chosen, it would be well worth the loss of a few dogs.
In the center the mindless Forsaken committed to a suicide charge against a block of the Dwarf Warriors.
Varangia shrugged internally. That was not who he sought...surely, somewhere on this field full of warriors was an enemy worthy of his engaging in hand to hand combat from which he knew he would emerge victorious and covered in glory.
Off on the right he saw his Giant charge one of the fearsome treemen. he made a mental note to follow the progress of that battle. A treeman would suffice if no better target for his war-skills arose.
The mages to his left and right began their fierce chants. He smiled as he saw one of the hated cannons of the Dwarfs disappear in a spectacular burst of magic. He would respect Dwarfs if they had the courage to fight up close and personal at all times instead of hiding behind their missile weapons.
He watched dispassionately as the Forsaken slew 2 Dwarf Warriors and had one of their own number fall in return.
Off on the left the Spearmen slew 3 dogs and took no casualties in return. The dogs fled, as they had been trained to do. He watched carefully...if the Spearmen were disciplined, they would brace to receive the charge of his Chosen...but no, they chased after the bounding wardogs. He smiled as the plunged into the waiting arms of his Chosen. Soon, the left flank would be his.
2 wounds to the Treeman (1 to the Giant)
2 Dwarf Warriors
1 Dwarf Cannon