First I’d like to thank everyone who assisted me with the other 4/4/4 list we built last month.

Below is the brief highlight of a battle far too cunning and multi-faceted for a full report. We love the victory conditions in M.C., and in this game they were especially entertaining.
Through the haze of acrid mist, stomping over rusty barrels and piles of twisted metal, a lumbering Gommorian Emasculator dodged shells as skilled rangers fired from a distance. Breaking through the wall of a ruined Triage Center, he turned to face his foes. Across the field of industrial waste, the Capitol troops began to scatter for ideal cover, prepared for a difficult fight.
He spotted the first free marine as the young man dodged from a pit, readying his weapon. With a slam of the Gammorain hammer, the capitol trooper flipped into the air, landing upside-down with the sickening thud of a broken neck.
Another suddenly burst bravely toward the Emasculator, unloading clip after clip at the beast at point blank range. The Algeroth screamed in rage as his left arm disintegrated to the elbow, nothing but a shrapnel clustered stump. Further ballistics penetrated the fat of his side. He brought the hammer down into the trooper’s chest, caving him in and sending rangers retreating in panic.
Across the field an Ezoghoul, wet skin glistening with a sleek aura of magic and pestilence, charged from behind a large wall. A lone Banshee sgt had landed in a critical area, gathering important command documents and folding them into a field bag. With the demon upon him, only by slipping to the ground in pure accident did the frightening sword pass cleanly over his head. Leaping into the air with his jet pack, he unloaded into the monster, unholy blood spurting from its neck as respirator tubes flew disconnected. Another capitol ranger closed in, and with one precise shot dropped the Ezoghoul to the ground, lifeless once again. A 100 yards away, through the red haze, a half dozen Necromutants appear.
At the triage center, a badly wounded Emasculator stabbed 3 syringes of adrenaline into his neck, while stuffing antibiotic soaked bandages into the open wounds of his side. He picked up a cauterizing pack and sealed the blood from his arm in one motion. Raising his hammer with one huge hand, he gazed upon the field of targets, mere humans panicking at his silhouette against the poisoned sky…

Well written and you nailed the feeling of playing MC. Which is fast and brutal.

Wow, love it!

The end! We want the end! What about the lovable emasculator we have all come so attached to? What will his faith be, and will he ever mary his high school swwetheart Jennifer?

With the field deceptively silent, the Gommorian Emasculator waited for the human vermin to surface, as he was eager to complete the mission. Staring down field, he occasionally stuffed handfuls of orange pills into the mouth, swallowing the pain killers as he struggled to maintain his vision. Most of the Triage Center was soaked in gore; an ironic parody of healing intention.

Shuffling behind him, flanking and cautious, three Capitol Rangers snuck toward the hospital center. Without the contents, their mission was useless. The documents obtained by the Banshee would explain the reason for the experimental medications, but not the mode of action.
The Ranger commander tapped Dennon, a Ranger Elite, on the shoulder with two fingers. With a quick point he darted as ordered, moving with incredible speed behind the lumbering Demonic giant. The other Ranger Elite, SIG, darted to the right. Lowering his gun he fired a shell right into the Emasculator's knee cap, dropping his with a cloud of ash to the other knee.
The beastly humanoid instinctively swung backward, catching Dennon square in the lower back with his hammer as the Ranger tried to pass. He flung forward, tumbling into a barrel. His leg rested at a puzzling angle under his stomach. The Ranger commander cursed and fired.
Two shells entered right below the back of his neck, cracking blood and bile in a magnificent yet precise spray. He seemed to stand motionless for a moment, until slowly falling forward, his face crashing into the pile of pain killers he was hoarding. The orange tabs sprayed everywhere, falling like bullets around his lifeless corpse. They immediately set to gathering samples of the odd compounds.

"Hey at least we have good drugs tonight," SIG joked. He did not see the Tekron Warmaster rising in unholy magnificent strength behind the broken wall. The living tentacles immediately wrapped around his face, stealing breath from his lips. Gibbering mouths swallowed first his tongue, then his teeth, sucking them while he stared helpless at the red sky, praying for death.
"Stay focused," the Commander barked. "I'm tired of your mouth."
The voice he heard in response echoed in raspy, cryptic tones. "I rather enjoyed it."