Author Topic: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole  (Read 16625 times)

Offline rufus sparkfire

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #25 on: August 31, 2010, 11:12:13 AM »
I didn't realise you only managed three turns! Still, Uryens, FR1DAY and I only had five turns. Too much time looking up rules.

Also isn't there an issue re: the goblins 'failing' animosity in the turn, well, 'failing' in the sense that they rolled a 6 and moved forwards?

Yes, there is. I forgot about that. It means they can't use their pikes at all that turn.
Hey, I could still beat up a woman!
If I wanted to.

Offline Uryens de Crux

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #26 on: August 31, 2010, 11:45:20 AM »
and thats when I remembered which edition we were playing  :icon_redface:

Got a couple more games of 8th in now, still forgetting loads of rules and I still hate TLOS.
We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.
The Free Company of Solland

The Barony of Wusterburg

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #27 on: September 03, 2010, 02:33:20 PM »
Battle for the Bones of della Scara
(Bat Rep, 2000 pts, Watchtower scenario, Compagnia del Sole vs Ogres)

For the background to this battle, please see http://treacheryandgreed.com/forum/index.php?topic=48.msg385#msg385 where it states the following ...

[High Priest Gabriele Condlumar] has in his possession a finger bone of Castriccio della Scara, an ancient Tilean hero who according to legend faced an army of shimmering, magical demons and personally struck down fifty before perishing himself. This can provide added protection in the form of increasing his ability to dispel the enemy’s magic. He hopes (soon) to retrieve the rest of della Scara’s corpse and inter it in the temple to provide what he believes will be a holy blessing for Trantio.

For an interesting tavern story on the theme of Condottieri patron saints please see

I hope the admins are also faithful followers of Myrmidia. If so, and if Condlumar gets the bones, maybe it will add some magical protection to the city of Trantio?

Now, at last, the battle begins:

Part One

High Priest Gabriele Condlumar’s plan had worked so far. He knew the enemy Ogres could reach the tower of Serminara in the eastern Trantine Hills before his own force, and he knew they were too strong for him to fight. So he sent Guldar at them, with instructions to the goblin Derkid to make sure the warlord saw it through. Although the ‘mighty’ orc warlord had been driven from the field, he had at least mauled the ogre’s army. Crucially, the huge, lumbering Rhinoxes had been cut down.

(Note: See - http://treacheryandgreed.com/forum/index.php?topic=48.msg10490#msg10490 - for the battle report. Killing the Rhinoxes was not actually an objective of the previous 3,500 point game - which I lost - but fluff wise it links that game with this one, and makes me feel like I achieved something in that game!!)

So now, even with the Ogres occupying the area around the resting place of the saint Castriccio della Scara’s bones, Condlumar knew he had every chance of snatching them for himself.

No, he mentally corrected himself, not for me - for Trantio. I do this for Trantio. After all, that was what his announcement to the gathered noble Lords and merchants of the city had claimed: I, Gabriele Condlumar, do give this promise to all of you - that I will personally lead a force to bring della Scara’s saintly relics to the city, that he may watch over us and guard us. He served Myrmidia better than all the generals of his time, and he must know that we too honour her greatly. This is why I will lead the force, for as High Priest to Myrmidia I have no doubt that his benevolent spirit will take no offence at my removing of his physical remains.

In truth even these words were a bending of the truth. Condlumar had never intended to lead the force, but with General Giovanni Villeteschi badly wounded, as well as several more of the Compagnia del Sole’s officers, the high priest now realised he would have to lead the force personally simply to ensure that the job was done. And a part of him was elated to be in the field again - he was a priest of Myrmidia, with a love of war that had engulfed his youth. This was a chance to revisit that life.

The force he led was not massive, for he had not time enough to assemble anything more. Nor was it made for speed - with no mounted soldiers amongst them. But this lack of horse was deliberate. He wanted a force that could hold its ground against the Ogres while he and his servants took the remains, and that sort of job was best done by large regiments of solid foot soldiers. He took two such bodies - his own men at arms and one of the Compagnia’s renowned pike regiments. The latter would have the Compagnia’s standard bearer Niccolò Forteguerra with them. He had recovered from his wounds remarkably quickly, and would inspire the mercenaries to fight calmly and bravely.

Army List: Merc’ Co’ at 1995 pts

High Battle Priest Gabriele Condlumar. Lvl 3 Wizard Lord  - 230 pts
School of magic = Theurgy. Graf Martin’s Finger-bone; Confounding Wand
Captain Giacomo Pigitliano - 101 pts
Full plate, Sword of Battle, Enchanted Shield. Defense in depth
Condotta Captain Niccolò Forteguerra, Army Standard Bearer  - 130 pts
Battle Standard; Cuirass of Perfect Safety. Precision drill
Battle Wizard (Level 2)  - 140 pts
School of Magic = Alchemy. Robe of Cathayan Silk. Dispell Scroll
Tilean Condotta Pikemen  - 340 pts
35. Heavy armour, pike. Full command. Banner of Respite
2 companies of Tilean Condotta Crossbowmen   - 374 pts
2 x 18. Light armor, crossbow, pavaises. Full command.
Men-at-arms    - 340 pts
35. Full plate, shield, halberd. Full command.
2 Great Cannons   - 200 pts
Dwarf Sea Rangers   - 140 pts
10. Brace of pistols.

With only one hill overlooking the tower-home of the saintly relics, then that was the obvious place to site his cannons. No mortars this time, however, for Condlumar wanted the sort of pieces that could punch fatal holes through Ogre flesh and bone, not splinters of grenadoes that might draw a speck of blood here and there from the thick skinned giant-men.

His two foot regiments he stood side by side, flanked on their right by a pavaise carrying crossbow company and on their left by some Dwarven sea rangers. The second crossbow company formed up in the rear, ready to step up at take the place of the fighting foot when they advanced.

His plan was simple (which he always believed was best). He would attack the tower with one regiment of foot soldiers, while the other guarded one flank, and the two crossbow companies and the artillery sent withering volleys to protect the other flank. The sea rangers were there just to buy time if there proved to be any surprises from the left.

The Ogres had already occupied the tower with a band of Ironguts. The rest of their force were arrayed behind, the Tyrant and his army standard bearing bruiser leading a body of bulls on the right, a butcher commanding another bunch in the centre, and five (no less!) veteran and battle hardened Maneaters moved up through the field on the left.

Condlumar was under no illusions, and knew full well that their ‘battle hardened’ nature, on top of their entirely natural strength and brutality, made such mercenary ogres a very dangerous foe indeed. He thanked Myrmidia that his artillery and crossbows might play at them.

One might suppose that Condlumar would march with his own men at arms, but not so - he stood in the front rank of the Compagnia’s pikes by Forteguerra’s side. If his own men would protect him out of loyalty and duty, these men would fight equally hard to do so out of their want of pay. His hired servant, the wizard Leone de Montlu, was ordered to stand with the crossbows and do what he could to aid their efforts to fell the foe before contact was made.

Knowing he must gain and keep the initiative, Condlumar ordered his men at arms to attack the building immediately, which they did. (Note: In the Watchtower scenario, the player not garrisoning the tower gets to go first.) While they assaulted the building, he marched the pike up to their side, sticking to his plan to protect their left flank. The dwarf mercenaries jogged along side too, while the crossbowmen behind moved to join the others and add extra power to the killing field.

A fireball felled a Bull, as did the crossbowmen; then another fell to a cannon ball. The bulls in the enemy’s centre were thus halved in strength. A good start for the men and mercenaries of Trantio. But then the momentum was suddenly stalled as the men at arms were mauled badly enough to force them to fall back from the tower.

Now on came the Ogres:

The badly battered bulls now thought to charge the men at arms’ flank, but failed to reach because the Trantian soldiers fled (none of them were willing to receive an Ogre charge in their side!). The men at arms’ flight took them right through the crossbowmen, but the mercenary’s refused to be shaken by the rather sensible (if hasty) withdrawal of the Trantians.

The maneaters at the bulls side moved over the outer fence of the field and continued their steady advance, while the bulls on the other side of the field, with the bruiser, chose to occupy the building near the tower, but the Tyrant joined his ironguts in the tower itself. The ogres’ magic proved generally ineffective, though the Trickster’s shard did wound the wizard Leone. Four crossbowmen fell (some to the ogres’ magic, some to the maneaters’ handgun blasts).
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #28 on: September 04, 2010, 06:34:58 AM »
Battle for della Scara's Bones, part two

As the pikemen turned to prepare for the fight, the men at arms rallied behind the crossbow. They would not leave their master to fight without them. (Note: I should, I think, have charged the dwarfs

The two crossbow companies now sent a volley each at the advancing Maneaters and managed to kill one. The cannons, however, now chose to send their shot into the tower itself to see if they might shake up the Ironguts a little. (Note: Here we both discovered how vulnerable to multi-wound artillery Ogres are when inside a building!) Although the Tyrants magical armour saved him, three ironguts and their champion all died! Only the Tyrant was left alive. (Note: The picture above saying their were 6 Ironguts is wrong - there must have been 4, but hard to recall when they are not on view in the photo!)
No surprise, then, that the Bulls and the Tyrant now all left their buildings. They had thought that being inside would be safe, they now saw that the buildings were a place of carnage if cannon balls tore through them. Suddenly the Ogres were beginning to feel hard pressed - the Trantian’s artillery was proving very effective. They now used magic to attempt to balance the whole situation, killing a dwarf with a fireball …

… then five more using bonecruncher. He did not let his men see, but Condlumar was please by this - he had hoped the little band of dwarfs would provide a good distraction.
Niccolò Forteguerra now ordered the Pike to reform, his precise drill instructions and previous training proving fruitful, for the regiment managed to do as well as advance to close the gap between the now abandoned buildings.

The could have charged the Tyrant but doing so would have exposed their flank to the Bulls and the Bruiser and they knew full well that such carelessness would ruin the effectiveness of their phalanx and thus prove their ruin. Bringing their pikes down they presented a very dangerous proposition for the Ogres, for their flanks were now completely guarded by the buildings, while the serried rows of razor sharp tips were able to deliver horribly bloody consequences to any monstrous foot soldiers foolish enough to hurl themselves into them.

Condlumar could not hide it this time - he was laughing. Perhaps it sounded a touch maniacal to the men around him, but he cared not. This was battle! This was war as he remembered it! These foolish ogres had no chance against his tactical cunning and the soldiers of Mymidia who served him. His confidence spurred him to concentrate his magical efforts a little better - he used Shem’s Burning Gaze to kill another ogre bull and wound the Butcher, while he settled Pha’s Protection reassuringly on the wizard Leone and the unit of crossbows. Crossbow quarrels now spat out to bloody the butcher and slay yet another bull. Then a cannon ball finished the Butcher off, leaving one lone bull in the centre of the field, reeling from the severity of the enemy’s magic and missiles.
The ogres were at a loss as to what to do, and the tyrant now joined the surviving regiment of bulls and his Bruiser with the army standard as they all ran to shelter in the timbered house near the tower. The Maneaters were not so hesitant - they had seen such as this, and much worse, before. They charged the crossbow …

… receiving only one quarrel sting on the way in. Their work was quick and brutal, and within moments (with the loss of only one of their own number) the entire regiment of crossbowmen were cut to pieces and ground into the dirt. They growled and snarled like beasts as they went about their work, then calmly reformed so that they might take on the cannons next - even though they were now staring the guns’ muzzles right in the face!

Condlumar could not fail to see this was his chance - he ordered his men to abandon their pikes and occupy the tower. Niccolo and Giacomo too. (Note: We knew that according to T&G rules pike could not occupy buildings, but thought it perfectly fair that if they threw their weapons down they could do so. After all, these men are not idiots, and do have hand weapons too. Both players were happy with the thought that the pikes were not - at least in the game world - glued to the soldiers’ hands! We would not allow them to take them up again in the battle)
Meanwhile Condlumar’s men at arms advanced once more close to the foe and now the high priest chose to join them.

The surviving crossbow regiment reformed so that it might be ready to shoot upon the maneaters. Condlumar was busy, however, conjuring injury right there and then, Shem’s Burning Gaze killing two of the bulls cowering in the building (where they thought the cannons could not see them because of the Tower), and Banishment felling one more and wounding another. The bruiser and tyrant somehow survived this stinging blast without a scratch. Even they were not surer how they had done so.
Condlumar’s laughing had doubled in intensity. He felt like a god of war, his men unbeatable, his magic unstoppable. Then it all went wrong, for his concentration slipped even as the Banishment spell came into being, and he miscast. Broiling magical energy flamed through him and outwards, burning six of his own loyal guards and injuring the high priest himself.
He stopped laughing.
The cannons boomed, but killed only one of the Maneaters closing in on them. Thus it was that the well-travelled and battle scarred veterans of between 5 and 12 wars now charged the helpless cannon crewmen. (I think you can guess the result, considering what was done to the crossbowmen!)

The last surviving bull, a champion, from the unit the Butcher had commanded until his death, now charged the Tower. Giacomo bravely challenged him, barring the doorway. Both warriors suffered injury, but the ogre could not force his way in and was pushed back.
The bruiser now led bulls out of the house, for he did not want to receive any more magical harm, and the tyrant rejoined them. When Condlumar saw this, he reckoned his Men at Arms could deal with them on their own, and so he ran into the Tower and began organising the soldiers inside to search for della Scara’s bones. The men at arms hefted their halberds, advanced to the spot previously occupied by the pikemen, and prepared for what was sure to come.

The crossbows felled another maneater, while Condlumar’s hastily cast banishment again wounded the bulls. Winding as quickly as they could (and being veterans they were indeed fast) they loosed another volley as the maneaters began a charge down the hill towards them. Another maneater tumbled to the ground and last found his steps faltering as he realised he could not reach the foe. A stream of cursing followed in his own tongue - mostly one word repeated over and over.
The Tyrant now led his bulls and bruiser at the men at arms, slaying the champion and eight more Trantians, with the loss of only one bull. But the men at arms did not think themselves beaten, and stood their ground defiantly. The lone champion bull upon the other side of the tower again took his chances against Giacomo. The result? Let’s just say that Giacomo is now known in Trantio as the ‘ogre killer’.
It was now that a delighted shriek was heard from the crypt beneath the tower. Condlumar had found his bones!
Game over, end of turn 5.
Game Note: We always knew we couldn’t hope to finish all the turns, and simply agreed it would end when the club closed. So the club closed and I got’s me bones! Not sure how the ogres could have gained a victory even with a couple more turns. The maneater was gonna get another volley and another countershot. And Giacomo and Forteguerra could maybe hold the door against whatever the Ogres sent in, probably, perhaps. Magic and cannons could continue to hurt the ogres too.
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline Geekmeister

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #29 on: September 04, 2010, 07:22:23 AM »
Wow, great work with all the background and stuff. I particuarly like the heraldry you've designed and applied to your regiments.

(the Vermillion Legion better be getting extra gold for all this work...  :wink:)

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #30 on: September 05, 2010, 08:09:26 PM »
The Temple of the Bones

Work had begun even before Condlumar and the Compagnia del Sole returned from battle. The High Priest had promised to retrieve the bones of Castriccio Della Scara, and the nobles and merchants of the city believed he would. He had to, for without such spiritual protection, some holy luck, Trantio was surely very soon to be surrounded by unstoppable foes. The Golden Company were approaching from the south, even now close to Pavona; and the soldiers of the Cerulean League had already swarmed into Commercio and Ebino. Every denizen of Trantio felt hard pressed, gloomy. Every night was restless.

Little did the people know but even His Grace Gabriele Condlumar suffered disturbed nights. The words in Viscount Armand De La Croix’s letter circled his mind constantly, and in dreams they stabbed into him with their terrifying announcement:

“No surrender, no hope of rescue, our allies will rain hellfire from the skies about your homes and we will march into Trantio, where I will skewer that pathetic pig son of yours on Le Teuer and burn your temple to the ground. You were a fool to bait me, I never forget stupid old goats like you, and know that my wrath, and that of the Golden Company, will fall upon you like wolves on sheep.”

It was these nightmares that drove his desire for the bones, and that encouraged him to lead the force sent to retrieve them himself. Furthermore, it came as a kind of relief to many that as a consequence some work had to be begun: the holy relics of Saint Castriccio must be house appropriately in a temple of worthy proportions and satisfactory richness.

Here, only one day after High Priest Condlumar’s departure to capture the bones, we see the labourers busy upon the scaffolding, amongst the already growing foundations of the temple. It is evening and yet they labour on, for this is a holy task, and meant for the city’s defence, for the safety of the people within, great and small.

Several foundation stones had been removed from ancient castles, legendary places where defiant defenders had withstood a hundred sieges. Such stones would surely provide a firm foundation in more ways than one.

But you can probably see something has caught the workers’ eyes. They have all turned from their labours and now gaze at an approaching crowd. What they saw was odd. At first it did not occur to all of them what was unusual about the approaching band. Many were armed - not at all surprising in this time of war. They sported clothes of many different colours - entirely normal for the populace of Trantio, for such had long been the fashion.

Then even the slowest witted and the most tired amongst the workmen realised what it was - they were all women!

At the fore was a priestess of Myrmidia, garbed in Vermillion robes (unlike the green which Condlumar most often wore). She came foreward as if marching. The women were on the whole young, lithe and strong of limb. They bore blades, some having already drawn them as if they meant to fight now. But that was not their purpose - they had drawn their swords in readiness for an oath.

It was the priestess in red who spoke, addressing them in a loud and clear voice which the labourers listened to also:

“Women of Trantio, warriors and acolytes of Myrmidia, look now at this. Here before you lies the beginnings of a holy temple, in which the ancient remains of Saint Castriccio will soon lie. You all know how this saint served Myrmidia. You know how he fought cleverly, and bravely, against monstrous foes. The tales are many, and they are true. But I have another tale to tell of Castriccio Della Scara. He was once tasked with the defence of a town, and such was his discipline that when the enemy proved to be vastly superior in numbers, he did not flee, nor surrender, but calmly continued his efforts to prepare the defences. At night, however, he was wise enough to pray to Myrmidia, and in those prayers he asked for guidance. And the goddess answered him, for he was blessed, and she spoke these words:

‘Castriccio, you must look to the faithful to aid you in this fight.’

But the general did not understand, and he tumbled through his dream unable to find solid purchase. Then he asked,

‘Holy mother, heavenly generalissima, I know not who you mean. Every man able to bear arms in the town serves me. Who else can I turn to?’

The goddess did not answer him with words, but appeared before him. She was beautiful, and fierce. Her eyes flashed with fire, and in her right hand she carried a blade so bright that it seemed to burn the general. Then she tore away her breast plate, and revealed unto Castriccio her bosom. The general looked (and looked) and then understood. The goddess smiled, and after some more of the dream passed (!), Castriccio awoke with a start.

He knew what he must do. By the end of that day, every woman able to carry a spear and shield, able to thrust with a blade, was made a soldier. A regiment the like of which had not been seen since the days before ancient Remas ruled the known world. All the faithful in the town now stood side-by-side, armed and armoured, and ready to fight.”

The priestess paused, sweeping her head to look at the gathered throng. Then she turned and raised her hand. When she spoke, her words came in short bursts, and each time were followed by the crowd repeating the words in unison:

“We the faithful followers of Myrmidia…” - “We the faithful followers of Myrmidia…”

“Do hereby swear to the goddess …”  - “Do hereby swear to the goddess …”

“That we shall fight to the last in the defence of Trantio…”

Etc etc.

Thus that evening the fighting faithful women of Trantio came into being.
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #31 on: September 07, 2010, 09:17:55 PM »
Guldar’s Revenge?
1500 Illustrated Battle Report, Battle for the Pass Scenario
(Ogres vs. T&G GreenSkin Raiders)

A man might not believe it, but in truth Guldar had forgotten his defeat against the Ogres only two days later. He fled from the field, his army running after him, and only halted when he met with more of his warriors about three miles away. These he ordered to form a line, while he ‘collected’ those who had survived the defeat and the flight. This was done by nightfall, and the Ogres never came on. They must have been after something, or someone, else.

The next day he moved away, and the next he was already looking for where to fight next. As far as his bosses were concerned, he had dismissed the whole affair as “’aving a go!” and now he was ready to ‘Get ‘em properly”.

Two weeks later his employer sent gold and orders. The gold was an advance payment and Guldar intended to get he rest. Leaving several of his regiments to guard his camp (part of his orders), he moved a select force towards a valley in the hills to the south.

1500 Greenskin Raiders list

Orc Warboss Guldar (Intimidator, Sharp Choppas), Giant Boar, Bartuck’s Heaviest Armour, Ogre Blade, shield = 308
Orc Big Boss, with Battle Standard
Banner of Mork, Light Armour = 107
Goblin Shaman
Lvl 2, Toof Amulet  = 115
Orc Boyz 30 with additional choppa plus full command  = 235
Bolter Boyz 10 Orcs with xbows plus musician & champion = 110
Hill Goblin Pikes 25 with goblin pikes and full command    = 170
Orc Boar Boyz 13 with full command    = 254
Goblin Wolf Riders 10 with Short Bows & Musician (Fast Cavalry) = 135
2 Spear Chukkas  = 70

He found more Ogres in the valley. What he didn’t know was that these were not the Ogres he had faced before, but another (smaller) band. Those he had previously fought were even now being defeated by Condlumar and the Compagnia del Sole. Still, this lot were an advancing foe, and as Derkid the Sneakster was quick to remind him, they were to be paid for any enemy force they kept away from Trantio.

Now Guldar liked pay and he really liked fighting, so you can probably guess what happened next. I’m here to tell you the details.

Guldar arrayed his force with his orcs in the centre - his mob of boys on the right, his own boar riders in the centre, and the orcs with crossbows on the left.

His spear chukkas he sent to set up on the heights to the left, with his Wolf riders ready nearby to attempt to distract any foe who attempted to attack the machines before they could spear enough Oge bellies.

His pike goblins he ordered off to the right, where they might sneak up through a gap between a rocky outcrop and some swampy ground, their flanks thus (at least initially) protected.

Guldar felt confident. He rode his giant boar and took his place on the right of his boar riders, next to Big Boss Crudly Hamfist who carried the army standard bearing the blazing eye-sun emblem Guldar had used for four weeks now. It seemed to please his employers, and he thought it noticeable enough.

The enemy Ogres had two regiments of bulls, one on each flank, and a body of ironguts in the centre. A scraplauncher stomped its way forwards on the far left flank, advancing over a hill behind the smaller of the two bull regiments.

Their general was a bruiser, and he led the rightmost bulls.

But they also had a Slaughtermaster with them, who marched with the ironguts.

Apart from this force of monstrous infantry, some sneaky little gnoblars had made their way to the rear of Guldar’s line, and were even now creeping up on their tippy-toes.

Battle is joined

It was the Ogres who came on first, every regiment advancing (though nor as far as they might - they were attempting to draw the Greenskins out).

The gnoblar scouts were too busy bickering to move up and hinder the goblin pikes ahead of them, whilst the Slaughtermaster’s attempts at magic resulted in nothing noticeable. This was all well and good so far for Guldar and his lads. As his giant boar snarled, he himself was growling, and the disharmonious result was dramatic enough to quell all animosity in his army.

Guldar decided there was no point in waiting and led a charge directly at the ironguts and the butcher, but he had begun too soon and the charge petered out (Note: needed 16”, got 14”). The rest of his orcs now advanced to protect his flanks, while the wolf riders put themselves boldly in front of the bulls and Bruiser in an attempt to draw them away from the orcs.

The pike goblins burst out through the gap and suddenly found themselves propelled by the magical Hand of Gork to close in a charge against the bulls on the enemy’s left. Perhaps, armed with pikes, this was a fight they could win? The goblins could not conquer their fear, but were saved by the nature of the serried ranks of their pikes. The ogre champion tore the goblins’ boss apart violently and stomped another goblin to death for good measure. Three more goblins fell, but so did an ogre. The fight would go on, for the goblins had yet to realise just how outmatched they truly were.

The bow armed wolfriders brought down one ogre with their volley, while the orc crossbows injured another severely. The Spear Chukkas shot wildly, however, as they so often do.

Of course the bruiser facing the wolf-riders was not happy to charge such a petty foe, even though they had just felled one of his lads, but it had to be done. Meanwhile in the centre of the field the ironguts and bruiser now charged Guldar and his boars. What the orc warlord Guldar did next came surprisingly easy - he ordered his riders to flee! Having faced a similar charge in the last battle, he now recalled only too clearly its very violent consequences. Not again, he thought.He would not suffer such a blow again. Instead, by hook or by crook, he intended to do the charging form here on in. So, he fled away. To be honest, the ironguts barely noticed, and simply redirected their charge onto the orc boyz.

Part 2 to follow
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #32 on: September 08, 2010, 06:29:36 AM »
Guldar's Revenge? (Part 2)

Now the pike goblins fighting against the three remaining were dismayed to find the scraplauncher coming at them too. (And before you ask, no, I don't know why 'J' insists on his scrappy wearing a sponge!)

Such a turn of events should have overwhelmed them. But no, they fought on. Nine more goblins fell to cuts or were crushed beneath iron-shod feet. Yet even so they steadfastly stood their ground!
The Ogres’ attempts at magic proved very dangerous - to themselves. Both magic users injured themselves, then the butcher hurt himself over again trying to magically cure his injury! In the centre of the field, the ironguts smashed into the orc boyz and before long eight orcs were dead as well as the big boss Crudly Hamfist. The ogres were scratched a little here and there, but all in all, things were definitely going their way.
The wolf-riders facing the ogres’ leader, the bruiser, and his bulls, did not stand chance. Every one of them, all ten, were hacked to pieces. The ogres stepped over the remains and made their way to the bottom of the hill upon which the bolt throwers sat.

Guldar now screamed at his boar riding warriors to halt, which they obligingly did, twisting around and reforming in order to attempt to fulfil their master’s wishes - to charge the foe.

The crossbow orcs stuck two bolts deep into one of the bruiser’s bulls, but could not bring the monstrous warrior down. Perhaps due to nerves, the spear chukkas could not hit the approaching ogres - both bolts flew straight over the enemy’s heads even though they were right in front of them.
The goblin pikeman now felled an ogre, and wounded the slaughtermaster, but they could not win the fight. Finally they succumbed to fear and fled, the bulls and monstrous beast following them to trample them down and draw close to the fight in the centre of the pass.

There the boyz failed to hurt the foe, whilst losing seven more of their own. This broke their fighting spirit and they fled, the ogres failing to realise they were about to run and thus lost the momentum needed to catch them.

Guldar could not believe his eyes. He had taken a massive gamble to try to ensure he got his charge in, and now here again he was surely about to be charged! This time the Slaughtermaster and his ironguts charged the boyz, just to see them run, then redirected at Guldar and his lads. Guldar decided he could not order another flight, for he was certain his riders would not rally a second time - and besides, they would think him a coward for ever more. So he stood and received the full weight of the ironguts’ charge.

Guldar’s boar gored the Slaughtermaster, but apart from this wound, neither could hurt each other as they traded a flurry of mighty blows. The boar riders, however, hacked down two ogres with their choppas, with the Boars killing a third. Yet only one boar rider perished. The tables had been turned - the slaughtermaster and the last irongut now attempted to flee. They did not get far!
(Note: I really thought the boars would be torn apart, as in the first battle, by the ogres - but I suppose luck comes into it, and in the first battle there were two tyrants in the front line. This battle showed me that boar riders can do the business. I should have taken the ogres’ charge earlier!)
The bruiser and his bulls easily smashed a spear chukka to piece, grinding the crew into the ground, while the butcher tried to use Toothcracker but failed. (Note: I used 6DD to stop it, having allowed the wound retrieval spells.) The scraplauncher had a go at the fleeing orc boyz, and killed two - but it also killed a gnoblar nearby! Meanwhile the bruiser reformed his unit on the hill ready to charge back down into the battle proper.

Guldar now charged the two last bulls on the enemy’s left, only to see them flee away. While he was trying to get to the foe, the Gork’s Foot had the necessary reach – killing another bull in the bruiser’s regiment. As another looked on at the pulped remains of his comrade, a spear chukka bolt stuck through his arm badly wounding him. Because they had reformed, the crossbow armed orcs could not join in the missile fun, which upset them. It was to be their penultimate emotion.

Desperate to get back into the fight while he still had some bulls to lead, the bruiser charged the crossbow orcs who attempted to flee. Their final emotion was shock, just before they were all cut down. On the other side of the pass, the scraplauncher tried to charge the orc boyz but could not reach them.

Gork’s Foot obligingly stomped down again, badly injuring both the bruiser and another of his bulls. Just as before, the bruiser decided it was safer to be fighting than receiving magical harm, and so charged the orc boyz, with the scraplauncher managing to join the fun. Although the orcs wounded the scraplauncher, they lost the fight. The handful that fled were brutally dispatched by their pursuers.

(Game note: Now turn 5b) Guldar’s chance to utterly smash the foe was slipping away from him. He turned his unit and began to chase the bruiser and bulls as best he could, while the spear chukka once again skewered one of the bulls. The bruiser knew that he could not take a charge from Guldar’s retinue of riders, and found an unexpected fleetness in his thick legs to run away!

(Game note: Now turn 6b) At last the mighty warlord Guldar Bestbasha bellowed his command: “Charge!” But his boars were tired, they had run up and down the field several times now, and as a consequence their natural disposition towards aggressive action was somewhat sapped. They charged, yes, but they still could not reach the bruiser and his last bull speeding away in leaps and bounds.

Game Over, end of turn 6. Surprisingly, due to the 8th ed. VP rules, it was 915 to 912. A draw. This was, of course, due to the fact that the bruiser and scrappy, although fleeing, do not count towards VP unless off the field. And the bulls unit hadn’t been completely destroyed.

So, with a writer’s liberty, here is the last part of this little story …

The boars’ momentum, what little there was, petered out. Guldar’s head drooped, and his warriors could see he was breathing heavily. Suddenly it lifted again, and he balwed louder than they had ever heard him bawl before (which was loud):

“They ain’t getting’ away!”

Slapping his giant boar on its rump he renewed the chase and headed back off up the pass, back the way he and his army had come. Ahead was a wounded bruiser and badly wounded bull, whilst with warlord Guldar Bestbasha and his monstrous boar were 11 riders. The Ogres, losing blood, could surely not keep their pace up. I’ll let you decide who would be coming out of the pass alive that evening. 
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #33 on: September 12, 2010, 08:45:42 AM »
Trantio Overwhelmed
(Some of you may be able to guess my opponent by studying his army. It should look very familiar to a handful of you.)
The reports were coming in thick and fast: an army here, another there, scouts to the south, horse to the west, marching columns in the north. At first Condlumar had thought that it must be confused reports concerning only one or two enemy forces, but the scouts, outriders and sentries were describing a variety of colours, a wide array of troop types, and in locations scattered all around for many miles. It soon dawned on the high priest that the foe was approaching in vast numbers, surrounding the city with a vast number of soldiers.

Deep down he knew the end had come, but he was not ready to admit it, even to himself, so he gave his orders. The warboss Guldar was too far away to reach in time, but the Compagnia del Sole was based in the Myrmidian quarter, their commander General Giovanni Villeteschi was recovered from his wounds, and they could march out immediately. Which is what he ordered them to do.
They did not get far. In the hills three miles south-west of the city, as they marched through the ancient ruins of a long empty town, an enemy force was spotted. General Villeteschi immediately began giving his orders for deployment, casting his eyes over the ground before him, whilst attempting to see what the enemy was doing.

A large ruined temple from the time when Remas ruled the whole of Trantio sat between him and the enemy …

… but other than that there was a relatively empty stretch of land stretching before him. His own lines had a line of hills immediately behind and one or two abandoned and tumble down hovels, whilst his right flank would be anchored to a stone tower and a garden of Morr on the right.

The enemy also had a line of hills in their rear, hills that were already being occupied by soldiers – presumably, Villeteschi thought, war machine crewmen busy about positioning their deadly weapons. The largest hill, right behind the enemy’s centre, had a ruined shrine upon it nowhere near as fancy as the ancient temple, no doubt built during the rather more squalid times that immediately followed the fall of Remas.
The Compagnia del Sole
3000 pts T&G Merc Companies list
Lord  Condottiere Lord General Giovanni Villeteschi = 199 pts
Full plate, Sword of Bloodshed (BRB), Sacred Shield of Myrmidia (T&G)
Tactician; Personal retinue (T&G skill)
Wizard Lord Battle Priest Urdoc the Manifolded  (Level 4) =  240 pts
School of magic = Shamanism. Warhorse, Sceptre of Stability, Talisman of Endurance.
Condotta Captain Giacomo Pigitliano = 106 pts
Full plate armor, Sword (warhammer) of Battle (BRB), Enchanted Shield (BRB).
Defense in depth (T&G skill)
Condotta Captain Niccolò Forteguerra (Army Standard Bearer)  = 150 pts
Battle Standard, Cuirass of Perfect Safety (T&G), Sword of Might 
Precision drill (T&G skill)
Battle Wizard (Level 2) = 140 pts
School of Magic = Alchemy, Robe of Cathayan Silk (T&G), Dispel Scroll - (+25)
Core (1600 pts)
49 Tilean Condotta Pikemen  = 476 pts
Heavy armour, pike. Full command. Banner of Respite (T&G)
2 x 18 Condotta Crossbowmen = 374 pts
Light armor, crossbow, pavaises. Full command.
35 Men-at arms  =  340 pts
Full plate, shield, halberd. Full command.
12 Tilean Border Horsemen  =  205 pts
Warhorse, light crossbow, full command
35 Condotta Soldiers (The Middenland Outcasts) = 205 pts
Light armour, halberd, full command. Magic banner - Gleaming Pendant: (+5).
2 Great Cannons =  210 pts
Both have one additional crewmen
2 Mortars = 160 pts
Both have one additional crewmen
Dwarf Sea Rangers  = 140 pts
Brace of pistols.

Ribaudequin (organ gun)  = 60 pts
Enemy army list to follow.

Both crossbow companies were sent to the right to stand side by side, and both wizards dismounted to join them behind their reassuring pavaises (‘R’ handily pointed out that mounting them made them juicy targets and more vulnerable. It seems I had wasted some points on the mounts! BTW: You can just make out their horses behind the line.) The centre would be formed by the three huge fighting regiments, the men at arms and the halberdiers fighting in ranks of 5 hoping that with enough depth they might stand solid against the foe. The two captains and the general took their places one in each front rank.

The Compagnia’s standard, bearing its Myrmidian baton and sun symbol, was held proudly aloft by Niccolo, while the same symbol had been painted onto the crossbowmen’s pavaises. Many a soldier sported the same symbol upon his surcoat or jerkin, and each and every one of them was proud of their allegiance.

Both mortars sat behind the line (a now tried and tested method for the Compagnia del Sole), while the ribaudequin guarded the flank. Out on the left flank a battery of cannons was placed on the hill, with the dwarven sea rangers down below them as a guard and the Tilean Light Horse Crossbowmen off to the right.

(Also noticeable in the above photograph are the enemy’s halfling scouts, armed with slings and ready to cause considerable annoyance to the Compagnia’s brave soldiers. Still, who can call themselves a true halfling without also being annoying?)

Villeteschi did not know which power the foe served. They were mercenaries alright, and in fact from some of their colours he reckoned he knew some of them, had once even served by their side. But whether they were from the Golden Company or the Cerulean League he had no idea. It was rumoured both were about to attack Trantio, and it was no mere rumour that both were enemies. Yet, he thought, it was of little importance now who exactly they were employed by – they had come to fight and a fight they would have.
The enemy adopted a similar centre formation to the Compagnia, with three large fighting regiments (men at arms, pikemen and dwarfs), flanked on the left by a war wagon and a large body of arquebusiers.

Behind were three mortars, two mounted on the heights. Their general, a wild-haired squid-tattooed warrior with a golden shield, who looked like some legendary barbarian chief form Sigmar’s time, led the dwarfs. He looking like an ancient, many of them actually being ancient! The army standard flew at the head of the pikemen, a bright yellow field bearing a monstrous squid - probably the personal standard of the general. Behind the men at arms a wizard lurked, magical power sizzling at his fingertips as he cackled maniacally at the thought of what he intended to release.

On the enemy’s right a cannon was being prepared to engage the enemy battery ahead of it, while the freakish form of a cockatrice carrying a halfling captain was squatting behind the temple ruins, flexing its bat like wings to emit a horrible cracking sound as joints clicked and clocked in and out of place. The monstrous ogres behind this creature looked almost normal in comparison!

On the enemy’s left a piece of horse artillery made its way forwards, its crew already scanning the Compagnia’s lines for opportunities to wreak destruction.

Now both armies were arrayed for battle, and a moment of eerie calm settled over the field as the armies looked across at each other. They did not know that the temple ruins had witnessed five such battles over the centuries. None of them knew that half the corpses in Morr’s garden were mercenary soldiers, and that more still lay deep underfoot in mass graves. They knew none of these things and yet death was much on their minds.

This was the last moment of quiet many of them would ever experience.

Battle to follow.
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Offline rufus sparkfire

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #34 on: September 13, 2010, 11:32:26 AM »
What nice armies!


Battle Wizard (Level 2) = 140 pts
School of Magic = Alchemy, Robe of Cathayan Silk (T&G), Dispel Scroll - (+25)

Two arcane items! Not allowed.
Hey, I could still beat up a woman!
If I wanted to.

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #35 on: September 13, 2010, 11:39:39 AM »
Oops. That's what comes from relying on Army Builder for years, then trying to build a list without it, cutting and pasting and dropping the calculator, etc.

(edit) Still, of you take into consideration that I gave my other wizard a sceptre of stability which I then (as I always do) forgot to use to add a DD versus one of your deadly spells, it kind balances out in retrospect. In fact I don't know why I pay points for wizardy things 'cos apart from scrolls I forget nearly every battle to use most of them. Too busy scribbling pencil notes and photographing, I suppose!
« Last Edit: September 13, 2010, 11:57:19 AM by Padre »
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Offline rufus sparkfire

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #36 on: September 13, 2010, 12:06:12 PM »
That's nothing - I realised later that one of my key spells actually did nothing at all! I'd have had the same result if I'd never cast it.

I won't say what that was until you've written the report though. Let's see if anyone can work it out!

I had these spells, by the way: doom and darkness, highlander 2: the withering, pit of shades, occam's punrazor.
Hey, I could still beat up a woman!
If I wanted to.

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #37 on: September 14, 2010, 08:11:36 AM »
Part Two

The enemy army list (NB: I like to call them the ‘Squiddly Diddly’ army)
(Thanks Rufus for forwarding this to me.)

General, Condottiere = 228
Sorcerous squid tattoos, shield of Myrmidia, privateer's sabre, potion of excessive speed, pistol, Tactician, defence in depth
Sorceress Lord  Lvl 4 = 230
Cathayan Panda Pelt
Halfling Warlord  = 153     
Cockatrice, spear, shield, heavy armour, screaming skull

Condotta Captain  = 104     
Battle standard, great weapon, curiass of perfect safety               

30 Men-at-arms command, full plate, halberds, S4, banner of Ulric = 385
30 Condotta Soldiers command, heavy armor, pike = 295
24 Condotta Marksmen command, arquebus, heavy armor = 265
35 Dwarf Mercenaries command, hvy armor, great wpns, banner of Ranald  = 400
       (Condottiere's retinue)

10 Halfling Rangers slings = 110
6 Ogre Mercenaries command, heavy armor, great weapons = 271
Horse Artillery  = 90
Great Cannon = 100
3 Mortars = 225
War wagon  = 140

Total = 2996 points

Turn One

As both armies were finally satisfied that their lines were ready for battle, the Compagnia’s light horsemen moved forwards towards the little enemy scouts, hoping thus to prevent the mischief such fellows were prone to causing if allowed free reign.

As they did so, the enemy now began to march forwards, maintaining a well-drilled and neat front to their central line (the dwarfs having magical help to keep up with the general). The war wagon trundled on the left of the three main blocks, the gunners inside already hefting their handguns over the gunnels. The arquebusiers had already returned their scouring sticks, and were now testing their match as the last action before giving fire. Several of them squinted into the sun at the crossbowmen on the hill before them, one or two even smiling at the thought that the foe might presume a pavaise could protect them from the mighty bullets about to be unleashed.

On the left the horse artillery galloped onwards, whilst on the right the ogres moved around the edge of the ruined temple, unable to take their eyes off the sight of the squawking cockatrice lolloping along on the far right to come to a momentary halt behind the hill.

The enemy wizard now let loose his first spell. Perhaps his manic excitement had unbalanced him slightly, for although the (irresistible) withering spell successfully weakened every man in the massive Compagnia pike block, it also drained away all the rest of his magical reserves for that moment, whilst a shard struck at a man at arms and killed him.

A very loud and sudden blast was heard across the entire field - the arquebusiers had fired. Seven crossbowmen tumbled to the ground, half rolling down the hill before them whilst their comrades scrabbled to keep the pavaises in place. Urdoc the Manifolded  was somewhat startled by this turn of events, but was then pleased to see the grizzled veterans around him did not flinch, nor show any sign of panic, but simply went back to winding their crossbows in preparation.
On the Compagnia’s left the enemy halflings now loosed pellet after pellet in a well aimed flurry of shots at the mounted crossbow. To the riders’ shock, five of them fell wounded or dead. They had not expected such punishment from half-men, yet now knew not to under-estimate them (despite appearances)

Now came the enemy’s first volley of war machine fire, and it was to sting! One of the Compagnia’s brace of cannons was smashed to pieces by a cannon ball (Game note: I now know that it is only my local friends and I who have always assumed a cannonball can’t bounce up a hill. Throughout 6th, 7th and in the few 8th games we’ve played, we simply thought unless a ball went over the crest of a hill it would bury itself in the earthen slope. ‘R’ pointed out it doesn’t actually say that in the BRB!)

More damage was to come. The magically weakened pikemen (T2) suffered a direct hit from a mortar grenadoe (49 under the template!) and 19 of them were killed there and then. Then another shell landed on them, slaying another 7, and killing 6 of the men at arms too. Once again, artillery had wreaked horrible destruction on the Compagnia’s brave soldiers!

All they could do was advance as best they could. To stand still would be to invite utter disaster. The mounted crossbowmen moved (quite eagerly) away from the halflings and instead rode to where they might shoot at the cockatrice. It was obvious the beast intended to threaten the last remaining cannon, and they were intent on stopping him.

It turned out he was made of tough stuff (ward save) for they only nicked his flesh and he seemed barely to notice their efforts! While they began to worry about the ogres they had allowed to flank them, the Compagnia’s wizards set about conjuring their magical spells (6:6, meaning my channelled dice and extra dice were lost). A glittering robe of magical protection now settled on the crossbowmen on the hill, while a spear of amber hue skewered one of the dwarfs. But then the magic ground to a halt (30 stopping a Final Transformation of 23), leaving the wizards grumbling.
Eighteen crossbowmen now managed to kill but one dwarf with their quarrels, whilst the surviving few on the hill brought down 3 enemy pikemen; 7 more pike and 3 dwarfs also fell to the one mortar blast which landed (almost) on target. The Ribaudequin killed 3 men at arms, while the pistol, toting dwarfs only killed 4 halflings. The seafaring dwarfs’ grumbled outdid that of the wizards, but then again, dwarfs have a knack for such.

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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #38 on: September 14, 2010, 08:12:49 AM »
Part 3

Turn 2

The soldiers of the Compagnia’s central three regiments now braced themselves, for it was obvious to such veterans that the enemy was about to charge.

The cockatrice on the far right of the enemy lines now flew over the lower slopes of the hill in a failed attempt to reach the cannon on the next hill, while the ogres chased off the light horse crossbowmen right the way through the dwarfs.

But all this seemed petty compared to the clash in  the centre of the field. The pikemen failed to reach the foe, but the massive regiment of dwarfs and the full plate armoured men at arms crashed solidly into the regiments before them.

The wizard conjured Occam’s Mind Razor onto the men at arms, infusing them with great strength (str 9). Meanwhile the arquebusiers calmly reformed into a fighting formation and thus became a fighting reserve behind the left flank of the enemy’s lines.

From the war wagon the handgunners loosed another volley over the heads of the dwarfs (don’t laugh!), slaying 3 pikemen. On one side of the field the halfling scouts killed two of the sea dwarfs before them, and on the other side two crossbowmen fell to the horse artillery’s first shot, adding to the harm (3 dead) that a mortar did on the same unit. The cannon misfired, one mortar grenadoe hit its target (a mortar) and failed to wound, while another went astray and hurt no-one.

Now the real, killing began. The squid tattoed general led his dwarfs in the melee and between them they killed 9 halberdiers, receiving no harm at all themselves. Somehow the halberdiers found the courage to fight on (I rolled snake eyes!) The Niccolo and his men at arms killed four of the enemy men at arms, but then discovered the enemy to be a frenzied opponent (Banner of Ulric, T&G). Luckily many of the enemy’s torrent of frantic blows failed to bite and only 5 of the Compagnia’s men fell. Like the halberdiers, the men at arms also stood their ground.

Somehow the Compagnia had withstood the initial impact, but was it really likely that they could continue the fight? General Villeteschi ordered the pike to reform so that they might better receive the enemy’s charge (if it came), while the wizards failed to summon any effective magic at all. Luckily the Compagnia’s shooting was not so unnoticeable. A cannon ball caused some minor damage to the war wagon, followed by some further damage from the crossbowmen (all of them), but it was still serviceable, still dangerous. 11 enemy pike fell to a grenadoe blast, but the second mortar misfired. The halflings were now reduced to only two in number by the dwarfs - the pair of survivors standing bemused as if they could not take in what had happened to their fellows.

The fleeing crossbow horse reformed in the hope that the cockatrice would fail to reach the cannon a second time and land in front of their bows.

But in the centre the battle was already turning against General Villeteschi’s Compagnia. The fight between the two men at arms regiments went bloodily on (3 and 6 casualties) but the halberdiers could not withstand the continued battering they were taking. Captain Pigitliano and his men did kill 3 dwarfs, but at the terrible cost of 7 of their own lives. This time they broke and fled (surprisingly I did not roll snake eyes this time) and were mercilessly, gleefully even, cut down.

Turn 3

The cockatrice now employed its ungainly wings to leap over the crossbow and attack the cannon, killing it instantly with its death gaze (He stared the cannon to death - cannons being unable to take I tests.)

The dwarfs simultaneously charged the mortar before them, easily slaying the crew …

… while the rest of the enemy reformed its lines to better face what Compagnia soldiers were still in the fight. The war wagon simply turned a little, the pike fell back a few steps, and the ogres gave up worrying about the flank and began to make their way towards the centre of the field. Once again the men at arms were given the magical aid of Mindrazor (str 9).

One mortar misfired, the other two killed ten crossbowmen between them. The horse artillery failed to shoot while the war-wagon handgunners slew 2 pikemen. But once again it was in the melee that the real killing was being done. The Compagnia’s men at arms hurt not a single enemy soldier, but 8 of their own now died. When they fled, with Niccolo amongst them, they were all cut down.

The crew of the ribaudequin thought about it for a moment …

.. then loosed a shot into the flank of the enemy men at arms, killing two. The mortar tore three arquebusiers apart, while the dwarfs felled the cockatrice with a deadly volley of pistol shots. Five enemy pike also fell to the crossbowmen. The winds of magic, once again, proved too weak to allow any effective spells.

So it was that General Vitelleschi found himself and his remaining pikemen out beyond the tattered remnants of his line, with a war wagon on his right, three mortars wondering whether to chance a shot, and a vicious bunch of ogres about to hit him in the side.

The Ogres hunched over, flexing their considerable muscles in readiness to launch themselves at the pikemen’s unprotected flank.

[Game note: It was the end of turn 3. You can probably guess what happened next, yes? Well, you will have to, for I conceded the game thinking that there was no way out of this one. One might think the pikes had a chance, perhaps being steadfast on Villeteschi’s Ld - but the Ogres had 3 strength 5 impact, 19 attacks (str 6) and 3 stomps. I would not have more ranks than the foe at the end of all that!)

Thus it was that General Giovanni Villeteschi was defeated. His few remaining troops left the field as best (and as quickly as they could), though many were taken prisoner. The wizards ran to their horses and galloped off to find the high priest Gabriele Condlumar. Little did they know that even at that moment the high priest of Myrmidia was fleeing through the gates of Trantio with captain Frederico Mallatesta and the last remaining soldiers of the Compagnia del Sole, being driven out of his own home. Nor did they know that as they dug their spurs deep into the flank of their mounts, Prince Piero of Trantio was being boiled alive by oil at another city gate.

The enemy general, a strangely attired war leader (being shirtless, shoeless and in short yellow breeches, armed with a viciously curved blade) watched the last of the Compagnia fleeing, and listened to the screams of the pikemen behind him falling victim to his ogres. He grinned, showing the gaps in his teeth that scurvy had gifted him.

Result: Victory to Rufus and the Squiddly Diddlies.
OOC: The moral of this game = don’t fight the inventor of an army list with both sides using that list whilst also having very little grasp of 8th ed BRB and being in an easily distracted mood due to having a new foe to fight!

Various minor niggles came to me afterwards, but on reflection none at all would have changed the game. I forgot to employ the Halberdiers’ magical banner to re-roll their first failed Ld test. BUT they had an army standard re-roll and there’s no re-roll of re-roll, so it was not possible anyway. I forgot to put additional crew-members on my artillery as I often do, but it would have made not one tiny difference to any part of the battle if I had. I forgot to use my Sceptre of Stability to add D6 to a dispel attempt, but I also had an illegal extra dispel scroll that I did use, so assume the scroll’s effect was the sceptre’s. Etc.

Congratulations, Rufus, on your victory. Next time my Greenskin Raiders will grind you into the dirt, you squiddly diddler!
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Offline rufus sparkfire

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #39 on: September 14, 2010, 10:06:17 AM »
Thanks Padre! It was an excellent game. Even if your gaming room was out to get me.

I made some mistakes too. I forgot that the potion my general had also should have given him an extra attack. Not that he needed it. And I forgot that Occam's Mindrazor was completely unnecessary, since the men-at-arms were S5 armour-piercing already. Being S8 or 9 made no difference. So the only useful spell I cast was the withering, since it caused more casualties in combination with the mortar.

Also, my new pikemen unit has still never made it into combat!

The enemy general, a strangely attired war leader (being shirtless, shoeless and in short yellow breeches, armed with a viciously curved blade)

Hey, that's the only way to fight!
Hey, I could still beat up a woman!
If I wanted to.

Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #40 on: September 16, 2010, 01:27:45 PM »
The Flight from Trantio

The Compagnia del Sole had left before noon, fighting their way through a lightly defended gap in the enemy’s lines, pushing on towards Pavona. Many amongst them were confused.

“It seems to me that we have a fighting army here!” exclaimed Rino. “That’s what makes me wonder. Look at us all! So why ain’t we fighting?”

Rino’s friend sergeant Modesto was only half listening, being very distracted by the sight of a large mosquito sitting on the shoulder of the soldier on front of him. It was an odd sight, for it should be buzzing about and biting folk - nmot sitting lazily upon a shoulder as if hitching a ride. His answer was only half heard by himself: “That’s right, we ain’t fighting.”

Rino rolled his eyes, then reached out to prod his friend’s cheek. “Listen, I’m asking you. Why aren’t we fighting?”

The mosquito was flexing its mouthparts, as if saying grace before its meal. Modesto smiled at the thought, but this time made more effort to answer properly.

“We can’t fight. We’re an army, yes, but the enemy still outnumber us three, maybe four, to one. And they’re not squabbling goblins or Bretonnian peasants, they’re mercenaries like us. Not easy to take on at such odds.”

“So the plan,” said Rino slowly, “is to run away?”

“That’s it,” said Modesto, then suddenly added, “Ouch!” as he watched the mosquito finally take its bite.

Rino obviously hadn’t noticed the mosquito. “Ouch is right! This means no pay, for the money was coming from Trantio, and we’re no longer there, and …”

“Company, stand!” came Modesto’s interrupting shout, as the man in front slapped at his neck and stumbled to one side. “Back in line, fool!” ordered the sergeant, then without waiting to see if the man did as he was told, he added: “Prepare to march, march on!”

A moment later Modesto glanced at his friend. “If we ain’t paid then there’ll be loot, mark me. The general may be dead, but Matallesta knows what he is doing. Besides, that churchman is with us, the high priest - maybe he has money to pay us?”

“I won’t miss the silver, provided there’s a warm chamber, close curtains and a pretty wench awaiting in Pavona,” said Rino. “I don’t relish the though of lodging ‘sub filiolus’ on the cold hard earth.”

Sergeant Modesta did not answer. Why disappoint his friend? A soldier ought to have happy thoughts on a long march - there was little else to sustain him.

Here you can see Modesta and Rino’s company of men at arms marching in line:

The baggage train was huge, to say the least, though somewhat oddly (to the soldiers, at least) several of the wagons were empty. A motley collection of ne-er do wells, old soldiers, and citizens of Trantio tended the mules and asses, or simply ambled amongst them, while the Compagnia’s soldiers marched in rank and file on the flank.

Gabriele Condlumar was at the front of the line - though this was no flamboyant gesture, no calculated posture, nor any sort of demonstration. He was there because the Compagnia was under his employ still and they were following him. His mind was filled with worries and fears, his face fixed into a scowl. His bodyguard from the Dogs of War Chapter, and his personal standard bearer, rode by him, but they knew not to speak.

His city was lost. His son was dead. And General Villeteschi was lost in battle. Saint Castriccio had failed him, and perhaps, even Myrmidia had abandoned him.

Yet he would never utter such thoughts aloud. This was all a test, and he would not fail. The soldiers must not see him downhearted, nor even distracted. So he brushed the sad thoughts from his mind (no easy thing) and set about considering his next move.

This would take some time.
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #41 on: September 18, 2010, 10:18:01 PM »
The Glorious Return to Trantio

La Strada di Eroi, before the Hall of Heroes

“But there are traitors amongst them, father,” hissed Pilocomini just loud enough for his father to hear. He did not know whether to look right or left, for the crowd was on both sides, so he flicked his head back and forth between the two.

Gabriele Condlumar did not answer immediately, but continued smiling, hoping his expression radiated the sort of confidence possessed by a truly blessed servant of Myrmidia.

“Do not worry yourself, Pilo, it is all in hand,” came the high priest’s belated reply. “Oh, and steady yourself, stop swishing your noddle back and forth. You are a hero. Yes. Try not to look as foolish as your brother.”

“Yes father,” said Pilocomini, and set his eyes on the hall up ahead with its awaiting dignitaries.

“And son, do you really need a goblet of wine just now? Couldn’t you abstain just long enough to walk through the city?”

“Sorry, father.”

The two of them, with the brave Nicollo Forteguerra, standard bearer of the Compagnia del Sole striding behind them, were close to the hall now, passing by the ruined end of the ancient aqueduct  that used to bring water from the hills to the Myrmidian Quarter of Trantio. The crowd stood quietly on both sides of the street, kept a satisfactory distance away by a Condlumar’s men at arms. The High Priest had dismissed the idea of a military parade into the city, a grand entrance. Instead he had decided the people would watch him (and his last surviving son) walk calmly into their rightful home, as if there was nothing unusual about the act.

He wanted the citizens to see him, the blessed son of Myrmidia, and not marching soldiers. He wanted them to know he had returned, not just the Legion. He wanted them to see him and him alone, walking through his quarter, and thus to know the full extent of their foolish error.

As if they could deny him his own? As if they could kill his son and throw him from what was rightfully his? They would learn soon enough what their disloyalty would cost them.

Even now his lesser priests, now garbed in the robes of Inquisitors (for so they had become) were moving through the city, questioning, interrogating, occasionally bribing, and slowly but surely ferreting out the spies, the agent provocateurs, and those who aided the foe in the recent occupation by the Cerulean League’s soldiers.

One such priest now strode between the soldiers from the crowd and pointed at a cowering Halfling amongst the gathered onlookers.

The hooded man spoke: “Here, your grace, here is one who knew the man who murdered your son. He has spoken of it, laughed at Prince Piero’s death, and drunk healths to his friend’s memory.”

Condlumar barely broke his stride, merely gesturing with his hand that the little man be brought. The priest gave the command and two men at arms grabbed at the terrified Halfling, yanked him from his feet and carried him away through the crowd with the priest leading the way.

“Mark my words, son, everyone who had a hand, a finger, even a fingernail, in the death of my son, all those who in any way aided his murderer or shirked their duty and allowed the deed to happen, will suffer.”

“I know, father,” said Pilocomini, supping at his goblet by sheer force of habit. Then, with a little more animation to his voice he began, “Father, there’s something I want to ask you …”

“Hush now, Pilo,” interrupted Condlumar, “we’re nearly there.”

Before them were a group of dignitaries. The mayor and his abbreviator (who had fled with the Compagnia del Sole and had now returned to take up their old offices), as well as the High Priest’s military steward who had been sent ahead to array the streets with guards and take control of the Hall of Heroes.

Behind them were Condlumar’s strangest servants, his household of gnomes – secretaries, scriptors, advisors. They had rushed to the Hall or Heroes after an equally hurried visit to Condlumar’s palace. The High Priest could see they were clutching a variety of tomes as they fidgeted in their usual manner – it seemed they had found the books they had so worried about during the short exile.

Gabriele Condlumar looked upon the blue-clad, savant servants and pondered. They were obviously happy in their own way to have recovered whatever obscure tomes and texts had concerned them, and no doubt now believed they would return to their old scholarly life. But, thought Condlumar, could they? He was only too aware that he had yet to decide whether staying in Trantio was the right and proper thing to do. He had learned the hard way that in war staying put was not necessarily the best strategy. Far from it.

His thoughts were suddenly disturbed by his son’s voice.

“That thing I wanted to ask you, father … well, it’s important.”

Condlumar turned to look at his son. Piero ventured a weak smile, then looked serious again and said exactly what Condlumar thought he was going to say.

“When do I get to be prince?”
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #42 on: September 24, 2010, 01:48:53 PM »
The Battle of Hesitation
Ogres versus Ogres (2000 pts)

(NB: I wrote this from perspective of the other player’s character. I was playing against ‘J’, who plays Grugg in the Vermillion Legion in the T&G campaign going on right now in a forum near you. I'm in the Legion too which might seem odd in terms of gaming - two allies fighting. But hey, it’s hard enough to find an opponent at all! And I tried my best to win. The result - he got a game to report and I got a bat rep to write. Cool!)

Grugg knew what he had to do. The orders could not really have been simpler: march in the direction he was ordered and smash through anything that got in his way. This had made him happy, until his gnoblars came running back with news of what lay ahead. At first little sense could be got from his little greenskin scouts, for they seemed to be saying that Grugg’s mob would be fighting themselves. It turned out, after couple of cracked skulls forced the babbling goblins to slow down and think about what they were saying, they meant there were Ogres up ahead.

Enemy ogres! It never occurred to Grugg he would be fighting his own kind. It niggled at him, an uncomfortable, half-formed conception that if ogres fought ogres here in this land then maybe they would all just kill each other, cancel each other out. Sure, he had fought many an ogre back ‘home’, but these would be mercenaries just like him and his boys. The muddled gnoblars may actually have been on to something - it felt like he was about to fight his own reflection! And smashing a looking glass brought years of bad luck, or so a clever human had once told him.

Grugg’s Force:

Tyrant (General ) @ 317 pts
Hvy armour; Luck-Gnob’; Glittering Scales, Wyrdstone necklace, Other Trickster’s, Ogre Blade
Bruiser (Battle Standard Bearer) @ 239 pts
Hvy armour; Rampager’s standard, brace handguns
Butcher @ 180 pts - Potion of toughness, Siege Breaker

7 Bulls @ 295 pts - full command
7 Ironguts @ 411 pts - full command; Great Weapon; Cannibal Totem

3 Yhetees @ 195

4 Maneaters @ 360 pts - Brace of Handguns x4;

The enemy:

Tyrant (General ) 306 pts
Hvy Armour; Luck-Gnob’; Tenderiser, Opal Amulet, Fistful of Laurels, Wallcrusher
Bruiser (Battle Standard Bearer) 210 pts
Light; Luck-Gnoblar; Talisman of Endurance, Deathcheater
Butcher @ 135 pts - Potion of Foolhardiness
Butcher @ 155 pts - Halfling Cookbook

8 Bulls @ 370 pts - full command; Ironfist
5 Ironguts @ 315 pts - full command; Great Weapon; Cannibal Totem
40 Gnoblar Fighters @ 82 pts - Groinbiter

4 Leadbelchers @ 240 pts - Bellower; Thunderfist

2 Maneaters @ 180 pts - Brace of Handguns x1; Cathayan Longsword x1

The Approach

Grugg pointed the way for his Yhetees and off they went heading towards a large rock that would conceal their presence from the foe.

Meanwhile Grugg ordered the rest of his force into a battle line - a wall of tough, grey flesh, viciously barbed with a wide array of spikes and weapons. He led his ironguts (who else would he command?) while his butcher Addrab led the bulls. The army’s bruiser, Fagglin Ironjaw, carried the golden battle standard that was the pride of the army and marched on the far right flank with the maneaters.

Suddenly the enemy appeared and Grugg’s uncomfortable feeling was magnified. Although their banners were different and they had gnoblars in rank and file amongst them (something Grugg had always thought a waste of effort), he could see their bulls, their maneaters, their ironguts. They were indeed a force very much like his.

And he spotted his counterpart too - very obviously a Tryant - marching at the head of a large company of bulls, wielding a large and much bloodied great weapon and garbed in layers and layers of steel. For the first time Grugg’s thoughts shifted from concern as he couldn’t help but think: ‘That’d make a fine suit of armour for me!”

Getting Closer

The enemy had momentum on their side, for they were already marching forwards, wheeling to their left a little to approach obliquely. (Maybe this was because they knew the yhetee pack was hiding behind the rock, and were frightened to let the monsters see them?)

Yet there was something about the way they moved that caught Grugg’s attention. They were slowing down, as if they were afraid to hurry and maybe give his boys the chance to deliver a charge on fresh legs. Yes - they were slowing to a halt, and just beyond where Grugg’s lads could reach. They may have had the initiative a moment before, but now they has lost it.

The enemy’s butchers made themselves busy, and one self-inflicted wound later they had failed a few spells but cast Bullgorger on the maneaters.

Grugg could not help himself - the enemy’s caution was infectious. He signalled with his hand to order the yhetees to step back a little for he did not want them blundering around the rocks to get charged by the maneaters. He stayed pretty much where he was in the centre, but his butcher Addrab led the bulls a little forwards before he too halted and wondered just what they were supposed to do next. How to make sure they got the charge in?

Grugg’s maneaters, however, were entirely above such fears and considerations, and besides they wanted to see what the enemy had to offer! So they marched boldly to the top of the hill before them ands surveyed the field. There they eyed suspiciously the four approaching leadbelchers. Addrab now began to weave some magic (magic = 3:3, so 6 casting dice), while the enemy butchers allowed him to do so - both Toothcracker and Bonecruncher manifested but the latter harmed no-one. (Note: I stupidly forgot that saving dispel dice was pointless as ‘J’ would use his last to remove my existing spells - which he did!).

The enemy was still hesitating, shuffling about as if unsure how they might successfully advance without opening themselves up to a deadly counter-attack (Note: I was bumbling, forgetting that charging is not longer everything in WFB, usually just +1 combat resolution, though impact hits would be lost).

The leadbelchers moved further towards the left and fired their cannons at Grugg’s maneater on the hill. Four huge blasts spread smoke and fire dramatically about, but only one man eater was hit, and that only a scratch. Two of the leadbelchers had misfired, killing one of the ogres! (Note: 4 shots: rolling 2, 2, misfire & misfire - come on, you can’t plan for that sort of failure!)

This fiasco was immediately followed by the Maneaters hurling themselves down the hill to crash hard into the Leadbelchers …

The consequences were inevitable - the enemy leadbelchers perished swiftly (Note: 4 impact hits alone killed two of them, one already being at one wound!) and the maneaters went calmly about reforming, looking as if to all intents and purposes they had yet to do any fighting in this battle! Of course they turned to threaten the enemy’s left flank.

The butcher Addrab tried a trick or two, but his magic failed him - Trollguts and Toothcracker were dispelled while Braingobbler failed to panic the gnoblars (for they were close to the reassuring bulk of their general). On the far left of Grugg’s line the yhetees now moved around the rock…

… thus presenting a threat on both sides of the enemy line. Grugg’s army was forming itself into the head of a bull, the maneaters and yhetees being the horns. The rest of Grugg’s line knew that they need not chance a charge yet, for events were beginning to favour them. Both units simply edge backwards, grinning and the thought that if the enemy came on, then they would be ready to smash into them just as the foes’ began to tire.

Belatedly the foe (i.e. me!) realised that if they did not get stuck in soon then all chance of victory would be denied them. They were about to be attacked on both flanks!

Part two to follow
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #43 on: September 24, 2010, 01:50:04 PM »
...right now:

Part two

So it was that the enemy suddenly surged forwards, hoping to get to grips with Grugg’s centre before they became any more vulnerable. The gnoblar horde turned to face the maneaters (maybe they could hold them for a while?), while on the other flank the enemy’s two maneaters turned to face the yhetees just as the bruiser left them to move up to support the centre.

There was grim determination write on every ogre’s face as they knew they would now have to receive Grugg’s charge. They began to brace themselves, holding their three standards aloft and swearing that they would defend them or die.

Grugg’s maneaters were annoyed for they had not come here to slaughter gnoblars! They wanted to get to grips with a more challenging foe. But if that’s what they were going to do, then they would just have to wade through a sea of greenskins!

The enemy’s magic was of limited effect. Grugg’s own regiment suffered very slightly from Bonecruncher - so minor a hurt that even the ogre that was stung barely noticed, such was the rising surge of bloodlust in him!

Now came the moment upon which the battle would turn. Grugg was ready, his warriors were ready …

… The time to charge had come, and every single warrior in Grugg’s army did so. The bulls and ironguts hit the enemy’s centre, while the maneaters smashed into the gnoblars.

The vicious yhetees had no intention to miss out on the fun and so they too launched themselves into the brace of maneaters ahead of them.

No less than forty spinning missiles, each sharpened to a razor’s edge, came flying from the gnoblars at the maneaters, yet barely no harm resulted - bar one maneater who now had a sharpened chunk of steel lodged in his forehead, which he would not notice until that night when he raised his hand to scratch at his throbbing forehead.
Of course when the maneaters hit they tore through the little goblins with ease. More than fifteen gnoblars were felled, but the little ‘uns failed to notice (steadfast) and through ignorance of their true peril fought on.

The yhetees and maneaters proved an equal match (for now) and set about a drawn out quarrel. Addrab and the bulls took on the enemy’s ironguts and battle standard bearer. The result was bloody mayhem, and although the ironguts got the upper hand, Grugg’s bulls had numbers ion their side and fought on.

Meanwhile the real clash came between the two ogre tyrants. Blades, luck gnoblars, Trickster’s shards and brute strength were all employed, the result being Grugg was wounded, but the enemy tyrant remained unharmed.

But Grugg’s ironguts had more luck than their master, killing an ogre simply through the force of impact, then hacking down two more (their Cannibal Totem certainly helping them here). One little luck gnoblar fled away from the carnage …

… then the enemy tyrant and his bulls attempted to follow (Note: I needed snake eyes to stand, and the re-roll did not help). Grugg and his lads hacked them all gleefully down, only to find a lone butcher facing them

(Game Note: End of turn 3, time up. I (the enemy) concede, Grugg thus wins.)

From here on in it was easy. The meaneaters continued to smash their way through through the ever dwindling bunch of gnoblars …

… while Grugg’s boys set about tearing the butcher apart …

… and the last two yhetees finished off the maneater.


Grugg’s roar as the last of the foe fell was a thing to be heard. And heard it was, for about two miles around!
« Last Edit: September 24, 2010, 01:52:52 PM by Padre »
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #44 on: September 24, 2010, 01:52:24 PM »
A 'Perfect War'

The evening of Condlumar’s return to his palace in the Myrmidian Quarter of Trantio should have been one of busy activity: discussions with his generals, delivering orders to his own officers (civil and military), hearing the inevitable petitions, directing the new Inquisition, looking over inventories, and so on. Not only were the army of the Cerulean League was still close by the city preparing to attack once again, but there was also the matter of the duel between the Cerulean heretic follower of chaos Duke Erik, and the Vermillion loyal servant of Sigmar Heironymous Lothair. And although much more mundane in comparison, there were letters to write, proclamations to dictate and priests from his order to instruct. It was indeed a lot to be getting on with.

But the High Priest ordered he should not be disturbed, and all the subsequent hustle and bustle took place without his involvement. He decided he would have to trust his servants and officers this one night, and receive reports in the morrow.

He had something else he must do: pray. For he had been filled with doubts concerning his actions, and anguish about his choices. His own first son had been killed when he fled the city, and then the city itself had (if temporarily) fallen. Such events did not bode well for the future. It seemed that he had been playing into the enemy’s hands, and somewhere along the way had lost the initiative. No matter what he achieved - how cleverly his spies operated, how subtly his orders were coded, how balanced and well thought out his stratagems - here he was still fighting in the same place against the same foe, and with ever dwindling resources. The Legion had been pushed out of Trantio by overwhelming numbers, only to push their way back in again. Was this to happen again and again, an constant toing and froing of fortunes?

Throughout all these recent events he had been considering whether the goddess approved of his actions. She was the deity of warfare in its strategic form, of the ordered battles of well-drilled soldiers, of the tactics that could defeat even a more numerous foe with cunning and discipline. And yet here he was ordering his soldiers to do little more than squabble interminably over the walls of Trantio. Stuck in one place, surrounded by foes, unable to manoeuvre freely, unable to assist in the Vermillion Legion’s greater war.

And then, this very evening, as he walked through the streets of Trantio from the Hall of heroes to his palace, a train of officials hurrying behind him, it came to him: This is no way to win a war.

He knew immediately it was the goddess’ inspiration that lodged this idea in his mind, for even as he thought it he found himself looking at (or being looked at by?) the golden statue of Myrmidia standing in the little square before his palace’s eastern gate.

He had heard already (from a sergeant at arms) that the statue was untouched. It seemed that most Cerulean soldiers still honoured the lawful gods, even it there was doubt concerning some of their commanders. It would be sacrilege, and the height of foolishness, for a Tilean soldier even to touch a statue of blessed Myrmidia. Then again, perhaps they simply did not possess the city long enough to remove it, or left in too much haste - for they had not even removed his green and yellow livery shields hanging above the doors!

Fashioned of solid gold, melted from the church’s share of the plunder taken in some conflict of decades ago, the goddess was depicted with her famous spear in her right hand, attired in the ancient style of an amazonian warrior, with twisted and braided hair so long it fell unto her feet. Her left hand was raised as if she were signalling to a body of soldiers, about to order their attack with the slightest, lightest of gestures.

Here now, looking at her with his own eyes, his mind began to race with thoughts. Entire chapters of the books he had studied began pouring their subjects into him, the lessons of his teachers from decades ago, as well as the war-honed advice of the legion’s generals all vied for his attention. So it was that he dismissed his servants and went alone to his chamber. Once alone, he stepped to the window and looked down upon the statue, and as the evening sky darkened to blackness, he let his mind race.

And after little more than an hour he finally understood. His loyalty to the city of Trantio, to his family, to the very stones of his palace, his temple, his quarter, all these things had been clouding his mind, flawing every strategy he devised, shutting out opportunities for victory. Now he understood, perceiving the situation with crystal clarity. He would, as a servant of Myrmidia and a loyal member of the Vermillion Legion, pursue the goal of conducting the ‘perfect’ war. He would plan and act always towards achieving ultimate victory. He would put all other considerations, such as family and home, aside - for they were the stuff of peacetime. He must live and breathe war. He must look upon the field of battle, exercise upon the march, rest in barrack rooms and pavilions, and pray each day for Myrmidia’s guidance.

From here on his temple would be wherever his goddess’s golden statue was placed. His palace would be wherever his army was quartered. His meat and drink would be a soldier’s diet. His companions would no longer be servants, family and citizens, but warriors.

He began by sleeping six hours, the exact amount of sleep that ancient military doctors considered best for soldiers. (He remembered this from his studies of the military saint Vegeteas, or was it Aoneos?) In the morning he awoke from a dream in which he had seen a vision of the statue. She was set upon a Carroccio, in the old fashion of his father’s time, bedecked with the flag of the Compagnia, and guarded by a company of handgunners. All about her the soldiers cheered, for they knew the goddess was watching over them

Within a moment he was shouting for his steward to bring his engineers. There was work to be done.

One week later, just before the Ceruleans launched their next massive assault, he marched away from Trantio with the Compagnia del Sole. This time he did not do so in response to the foe, nor even with a heavy heart. This time he was marching to fight the kind of war that would bring glory, honour and victory. He was no longer to be a mere castellan, spending every hour attempting to maintain his garrison. Now he was a marching general, taking the war the enemy. Now he was not just trying to be Myrmidia’s servant, he had truly become so, and he intended to serve her with all the skill and cunning she expected.

(OOC: First - I’m finally having revelations about the rules mechanics, thus the IC revelations above. Secondly - I’m working on my carrocio, thus Condlumar’s dream. Hee hee, they’re funny old things these campaigns. They take you places, eh?)
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #45 on: September 25, 2010, 04:59:17 PM »
My Carroccio kit-bash!

I wanted a carrocio that had everything the T&G Merc’ Company army list demanded (i.e.) Battle Standard, minimum of 6 crew, religious trappings and the sort of firepower that might allow equivalent of 6 handgun shots per turn. I also wanted some height so that it had a good LoS.

Here it is completed (un-crewed):

Notice that the standard is an extra fancy version of the Compagnia del Sole’s white rod and sun emblem (the simpler emblem used by the rest of the army is painted on some of the panels). Also the golden statue of Myrmidia from outside Condlumar’s palace stands at the front - I prefer this to an altar. Two torches illuminate the goddess.

Here the crew are in it (I already had these guys), including a priestess in her religious capacity (tending the statue with prayers):

There are 6 handgunners in it, 4 on the top, 2 in the ‘cage’, as well as 3 swivel guns, plus several optional spots (the red posts) for mounting them.

Bizarrely, the flag swivels (thus I could re-position it for the photos). The next shot shows into the ‘cage’ which is an iron grilled area beneath the tower platform:

Luckily two guys were just short enough to stand in there, and I love the three dimensional nature of having them tucked away inside, sticking their guns through the grate:

I built it from a variety of old scenery left-overs (castle doors and windows), plus two horses I had spare, as well as plastic model shop tubes, and the wheels and yoke from the Black Coach model (which I have had unused for nearly 3 years now).

The crossbow arm was cut with a scalpel to make the mount for the swivel guns - using the stirrup at the end of the crossbow to pass through the holes in the side of the guns.

The main body was built from lollipop sticks, with thin bits of plasticard stuck on top so that I could glue the gratings on. There was a LOT of chopping of plastic as most bits were the wrong size. Luckily the curving grate tops on the lower level match the wooden ones on the top level - because they were alternative components for the same holes in the castle scenery walls.

The only thing I bought were the swivels (model shop, model ship stuff), mainly ‘cos I couldn’t bring myself to break the ones I already have off their stands and leave my pirate army with three less!

Hope you like!
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #46 on: October 08, 2010, 11:11:34 AM »

The Compagnia del Sole, with High Priest Gabriele Condlumar now leading them personally (Villeteschie being dead), made their way southwards away from the city of Trantio. Few folk watched them leave because of Condlumar’s rather bizarre proclamation that anyone who was not a soldier should not look upon the paraded statue of the goddess. Inside closed doors there was much muttering, concerning not just why Condlumar thought he could take the golden goddess with him, but why he was leaving the city undefended again. Gossip ran rife: rumours that greenskins had been seen marching alongside the Vermillion Legion on the road southwards; complaints that the High Priest had brought Saint Castriccio’s bones to Trantio, dedicated a temple to him as the city’s new patron saint, yet now left the temple incomplete and virtually no garrison soldiers for the saint to inspire.

The general conclusion was that Condlumar had lost his wits. He was surely insane, driven to despair by the death of his son and the constant war against the unending armies of the Cerulean League. He had seemed so honourable, a sturdy and steadfast defender of the city, but now none could understand his decision to abandon them. Some said they had seen him laughing maniacally in the last few days, staggering about the grounds of his palace spouting nonsense concerning visions and revelations, concerning strategies and grand plans. Yet others claimed he had not been seen at all outside his chambers, or even that he lay sick in his bed quite unable to utter a word.

In truth he was well enough, and had indeed had a revelation.


Captain Frederico Matallesta, second in command of the Compagnia del Sole, had been concerned about this latest turn of affairs. Having a mercenary company’s employer take personal command of the soldiers when their general died was not exactly the traditional way of doing things. The High Priest had explained most eruditely that if he had been giving instructions through General Villeteschi in the first place, then what he was doing now was not that much different: his orders were still being obeyed, but now they came straight from his mouth.

Yet Matallesta knew it was at the least odd, if not wrong. Surely he should have command now, and the employer should simply speak his will to him and then let him get on with commanding. To have this old man, this scholarly, magic wielding priest, busying himself hour after hours with the fine details of military command, whilst the Compagnia’s officers reported directly to him, was just not the right way of going about things. But the captain was powerless to do anything about it.

The general’s death, followed by a series of defeats and withdrawals, had hit the men hard. There had been desertions, defections, even the threat of mutinous riots (as if the men were nothing better than petty brigosi). Then came order, for the high priest had made his speeches and so stirred their passions. He praised them, their bravery, loyalty, and convinced them that the very spirit of Myrmidia was manifesting in them, working through them. And best of all, he told them that the rewards would surely come. “No war is easy”, he had said sombrely, with the rank and file straining to hear his suddenly quiet words. “No war is fought without setbacks and bloodshed. It is only fitting that we prove ourselves to be the better soldiers than the foe, and to do that we must fight harder, better, and with more discipline than the foe. We must press at the foe again and again, until finally their spirit breaks. Then we shall have victory, glorious and well deserved, and each of us shall no we are sons of Myrmidia.”

There had been more to the speech, and it had changed a little each time he addressed a new regiment, but every time it stirred the men and rekindled their desire to fight.

Now, however, the high priest had the officers to convince.

The Compagnia’s standard bearer, condotta Captain Niccolò Forteguerra, now battle scarred and hardened and nothing like the youthful Adonis he had once appeared, stood, teeth gritted, eyes glaring, as if he defied the high priest to convince him that leaving Trantio was right, and that a priest should act as general.

Meanwhile, Brother-Captain Lodovico Gioneste, the new commander the ‘Dogs of War’ chapter of Knights of the Blazing Sun, and Captain Giacomo Pigitliano (of Condlumar’s own Men at Arms), although less antagonistic in appearance, still gave the impression that they were less than pleased with the turn of affairs.

When he strolled into the tent, Condlumar seemed to fail to notice. He simply walked to the table and unrolled a map upon it, shifting two sheathed daggers so that it would not curl back into a roll.

“You are my officers,” he said abruptly. “I have no inspiring speeches for you, only the cold, hard truth. Which is this: Serve me well, make the men fight well, gain victory, and you shall be generously rewarded. If you cannot do this, leave now.”

No-one spoke, and no-one left.

“Good. Now gentlemen, to business ….”

Soldier’s banter

“It’s a long time since we celebrated victory, ain’t it?” asked Sesto during a lull in the conversation around the camp fire. Most of the other men there, those who were still awake anyway, just frowned, but Martino was willing to bite.

“What do you mean to say, Sesto? Are you suggesting we’re beaten?”

“No,” said Sesto defensively, momentarily stopping his hour long labour of polishing his sword blade. “I don’t mean that. I’m just saying I used to like the parades, the revels, the salvoes of artillery. That sort of thing.”

“Waste of powder,” muttered some half-awake soldier whose face could not be made out on the other side of the fire. Someone else snorted derisively.

Martino let out a laugh. “That’ll all come to us soon enough, all we need to is see things through. We’ve made an oath and now we’ll fight like true Tileans. No more squabbles back and forth between Pavona and Trantio, that’s what I reckon. Now the foot slogging begins, I admit, but we’re off to places far more important than Trantio, to fight for even richer patrons. The Compagnia’s going to do well out of this, mark my words.”

Sesto went back to polishing. “I was just saying.”

Another voice came across from beyond the fire. “Are we to share the pay with goblins, then?”

Again the snorting was heard.

Martino looked serious now. “That I cannot say. Let’s just be glad that they’re on our side, eh? And let’s hope they soften up the foe for us. I say worry about whether to pay them when the time comes.”

“And when the time comes,” came the voice again, “then let’s hope we can finish of our greenskin allies ourselves. Then we won’t have to worry about sharing.”


Three days later the Compagnia unexpectedly, found a way through the enemy lines at near Pavona, and to the soldiers’ general relief Condlumar ordered them to march on through it, towards the Renman Plains. At least they wouldn’t be fighting once more to take the city. Maybe their fortune would change after all?

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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #47 on: October 08, 2010, 11:12:58 AM »
Upon the Reman Plains

Brother-Captain Lodovico Gioneste of the Dogs of War order of the Knights of the Blazing Sun knew why he had been chosen for this task, but that did not mean he relished it at all. He was the only officer amongst the Compagnia who had dealt with the undead before, having ‘liased’ with the Red Warden (as was) back when the city of Trantio had a Night Watch. Those meetings still gave him nightmares, yet apparently this made him the best candidate to speak once more with the undead. He had been happy when the Red Warden left and took his shambling army of corpses eastwards through the Pass. Yet now the nightmares were threatening to resume.

Thus it was that he knew full well the horror of dealings with the dead. What he did not know was what the ancient Legionaries of Lucius Valerius Maximus’ Fourht Legion would be like. The Night Watch included Tileans that had been alive when he was born, but this arm was truly old, hailing from centuries ago. He could not get rid of the idea that they would be virtually fossilised and that tiny stalactites must hang from their dusty and cracked ribs.

So it was that he approached the agreed location of the rendezvous with trepidation. He was to meet the ancient Reman’s emissary at the hilltop ruins of a temple in the western part of the Reman Plains, where an almost vanished road wended its way towards the city to the west. Riding at the head of his company of knights, the brother captain finally crested a hill to discover he could see across a wide valley. And there they were - soldiers of the Fourth Legion.

Even at this distance, where it was not even clear to human eyes that the soldiers were fleshless, there was something very unnatural about them. They glinted in the sunlight, and not just from their armour, and they stood utterly motionless, as if statues. When Lodovico began his descent of the hill, however, there was suddenly motion amongst them - empty eye sockets lifting to look at him and his knights, swords drawn so that they were ready for use.

And every soldier was grinning.

There were foot soldiers, three companies, in serried ranks and files, with ragged banners and the remnants of faded red cloth hanging in tatters here and there, and there were horsemen too, arrayed in a line on the modest heights in front of the temple ruins. Their mounts were just as undead as the riders, their postures just as strange - like the drummer, who held his sticks aloft in a manner that would very soon tire a living man’s arms. A more elaborate banner flew above the helmeted heads of the riders, fashioned from the purple of the ancient emperors. Perhaps these men had once acted as guardians of such a man?

But it was the nearest skeletal soldier that had Lodovico’s attention, for that was surely the man he was supposed to talk with. As he drew ever closer, the brother captain found himself wondering what this man’s name was, what his rank was, and whether enough of the living man was left to know these things himself. Maybe he was about to find out?

Primus pilus prior Titus Flavius Decimus waited at the head of his manipuli, the foremost of the three manipuli making up the sixth cohort of the Fourth Legion. His bronze breastplate bore a skull device (something he had not considered to be foreboding when he had lived) and his helmet was crested with an elaborate red fan of feathers sporting bronze rods. A red cloak fell from his shoulders to the ground, and in his right hand he held a baton - a sign that he was not only commander here, but sent as emissary.

Upon Titus’ right was his signifer, personal standard bearer, a soldier whose winged helmet was almost as easily spotted as the banner he held aloft. Upon his left was one of his principales, a warrior who had wielded a giant mace torn from the hands of a metal-enclosed servant of chaos more than five hundred years ago and which he had not put down since!

Lodovico found it quite easy to slow his mount’s pace - the creature was so inclined to do so anyway. It occurred to him that his throat was dry, a thought followed swiftly by another worry - would he be able to speak?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, quite obscured by his present fears, there was the half formed realisation that if he was going to have difficulty speaking with a dry throat, then how exactly was this tongue-less, fleshless, lipless warrior before him going to proceed.

(Note: This meeting was to lead to Condlumar's invitation to the 'Council of Remas' peace talks)
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #48 on: October 08, 2010, 11:13:41 AM »
What Have I Unleashed?

Condlumar had been unsure at first whether he ought to do what his officers advised. It was not just the natural caution of a commander leading an army through hostile territory, nor the fears of a ruler driven from his city, but also the very sensible concern not to tarnish his reputation amongst his Tilean soldiers. In the end he had been convinced, young Niccolo telling him he had to see it to understand.

You see, there had been reports that Guldar’s army was growing in strength for two weeks now. The greenskins were still happily in Condlumar’s employ for they did not care who occupied Trantio, only whether there was good fighting and good looting - two commodities that were currently in no short supply. Apparently, so said the reports, greenskins had flocked to Guldar’s banner throughout the march. They came from all directions - deserters, stragglers and the tattered remnants of defeated forces. They had come from several enemy armies, as well as from opportunistic coastal raiders whose numbers had been on the increase since so many had been driven from their settlements in the Badlands by first the conquering dwarves of the Golden Company, and then by the armies of the Tyrian League.

Now the officers of the Compagnia del Sole were worried. The greenskins’ numbers had swelled massively, and there was genuine concern that Guldar’s mercenaries might suddenly declare that very dangerous and very green state of affairs - a full-blown Waagh! If that was to happen, then there would be no commanding them, not even through the manipulative and cunning medium of Derkid the Trickster. Waaghs were not only unpredictable but entirely uncontrollable.

Condlumar decided thus that he would have see for himself, even if such an open meeting with greenksins might be seen as unworthy of a soldier-priest such as himself. If the reports were true then he would have to do something about it, and fast.

He headed east with a small guard of riders, knights and squires from the Dogs of War chapter of the Myrmidian order of the Blazing Sun, their long banner sporting white dog faces. Within an hour he knew he was close. Goblins (no doubt scouts and foragers) scuttled about hither and thither, and the wind bore the stench that always followed an army of greenskins. Then they came into view, and Condlumar instantly allowed his horse to do exactly what it wanted to do - step no further forwards.

The high priests eyes widened ….

…and then came the words which his companions all heard: “Blessed Myrmidia, forgive me, but what have I unleashed?”

Guldar’s army marched in column, and there was no doubting it was mighty. At the heart were umpteen regiments of fighting orcs, led by huge bodies of boar riders (including some giant boars bearing black orcs). Upon either side were orcen archers by the hundred, and even more goblins. Swarms of wolf riders trotted nimbly onwards, whilst trundling chariots sent dust up behind them as them churned up the dry earth beneath their wheels.

At their head was a lone standard bearer carrying a banner bearing an eye-sun device, a favourite of orcs for millennia, as well as sea orc scouts armed with black powder weapons.

And at the core of the army were the regimented orc warriors, their chanting echoing throughout the valley, words unknown to Condlumar that drowned out all other sounds. 

And what was before him was only the army's vanguard, for Condlumar knew full well that Ogres served Guldar, as well as foul trolls. He had even seen clear evidence that at least one giant marched with this army. 

Once recovered from the initial shock, Condlumar took a deep breath and - obliged my his own Myrmidian creed to do so - began counting and analysing. How many regiments, of what strength? How well equipped were they? Did those goblins have firearms too? How many of the chariots were pulled by boars, how many were the weaker variety that used wolves? Did this army look hungry? Disciplined? Proud? Belligerent? And where was Guldar?

Before he had completed his task, however, he already knew what he must do. Guldar must be sent into battle, and soon. Only bloody conflict could weaken this force, and best that the foe feel its full strength and mighty wrath. Yes, they would be sent this very day against the enemy, and by morning, come victory or defeat, the chance that Guldar’s army become a fully fledged Waagh must surely be lessened. These greenskins were like unto a hungry lion. Best that they feed on the enemy and not on their handler. And when they have eaten, they will be sated, at least for a while.
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Offline Padre

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Re: Condlumar & the Compagnia del Sole
« Reply #49 on: October 08, 2010, 11:15:15 AM »
Much Needed Supplies
(700 pts T&G Merc Co vs. 1000 pts Orcs ‘n Gobs scenario battle)


This was the third day of their march and all were happy that no trouble had been met so far. The captain, a sturdy dwarf named Orrenguard, had expected trouble, but would be glad to be proved wrong. Still, he reckoned he had sufficient strength to fend of all but an army.

At the front of his column were the buccaneers, a bunch of wild fellows who seemed to be as fearless as dwarfs, but he could see that it was merely an affectation.

Then came his own company of mercenaries. He was proud of these dwarfs, for they had never yet let him down, and he chose to ride by their side nearly all through the march so far.

Off to the left flank rode a company of arabyan light horse. Originally tasked with the job of keeping an eye out for trouble, Orrenguard had changed his mind on the second day, deciding that they might actually draw attention to the convoy, so he ordered them to ride with the wagons. The reaguard, marching right behind the wagons, took the form of some Estalian handgunners. They seemed professional enough, though no Tileans Orrenguard had met had a good word to say about such men.

Convoy Guard  (708 pts)

Dwarf Captain 102 pts
Hand wpn, gromril, war pony, Crossbow, Shield. Helm of Success 
12 Tilean Buccaneers 113 pts
Hand wpn, pistols. Skirmishers.
12 Arabyan Border Horsemen 161 pts
Hand wpn, warhorse, bow, full command. Fast cavalry.
14 Estalian Condotta Handgunners 122 pts
Hand wpn, light armor, handgun, champion.
20 Dwarf Mercenaries 210 pts
Hand wpn, heavy armour, shield, full command

Simple: Three wagons, one point each. Whoever possesses (usual possession rules) the most at the end wins. As the merc’ player has all three at the start, he has only 700 pts, whereas the attacker has 1000. 6 turns limit.

Trouble Arrives

Captain Orrenguard should have known that it was too good to be true. Of course there was going to be trouble! There always was. And this was trouble of the kind that particularly annoyed him - damnable greenskins.

It was a raiding party, highly mobile. Three wolf-drawn chariots, two companies of ten goblin wolf riders, another much more threatening bunch of ten orc boar riders and three strinking, slimy trolls.

The veteran dwarf captain heard them before he saw them (there was little cunning in such creatures - had they had an ounce of that quality they could have got a lot closer to his column). Mind you, his pony seemed to sense them before even he heard them - becoming somewhat contrary moments before.

So Orrenguard gave his orders for a defensive deployment, hoping to use the copses of trees nearby to his advantage - let the enemy bring chariots through there, he prayed. The buccaneers were sent to guard the left flank, while Orrenguard stood with his dwarfs in fighting formation and the handgunners by his side. The wagons he hid behind the trees, putting the arabyan horsemen nearby with orders to go for anything that looked to be getting through.

Perhaps unusually every dwarf in Orrenguard’s personal regiment had a standard upon his back, a custom that had come from the far-east. Several of his mercenaries hailed from the far-flung land of Nippon and their unusual suggestion was happily taken up by Orrenguard and the rest of the company - if only to mark them out from other regiments. It had become something they were proud of.

Part 2: The Fight

The Greenskins wasted no time but came on apace - which was fast indeed. The trolls did their best to keep up.

Both packs of wolf-riders were looking to get around the woods and attack the Compagnia soldiers in the flank, but the orcs and one of the chariots just came straight on. The orcs had a species of confidence unknown to the goblins, and the goblin crew of the chariot were close enough to their orcen big boss too feel somewhat ‘obliged’ to do as he would wish.

The other wolf chariot held back, happy to see what might happen before racing into the fray.

Orrenguard shouted his and his dwarfs and men moved accordingly. The regiment of dwarfs turned and moved a little to one side, closer to the wagons - in the hope that they might get in the way of the orc boar riders aiming to burst through the handgunners. The arabyan light horse moved off to face the approaching wolves, while the buccaneers moved into the trees and cocked their pistols.

A rolling burst of gunfire from a dozen handgunners and nine pistol-men brought down only one boar rider, while a dozen arabyan arrows finished only one wolf rider. Orrenguard’s soldiers were not, it seemed, going to have it easy when the foe came on!

And the enemy did indeed come on. Only the rearmost wolf riders (armed with bows) began squabbling as greenskins are so often inclined to do. The wolf riders at the front charged into the arabyan horsemen (losing one goblin warrior to the countershot), and the orc boar riders and wolf chariot smashed hard into the handgunners. 

The chariot on the far right of the greenskin line charged headlong into the buccaneers in the wood (I did tell the lad what this could do to the chariot, but he reckoned the odds were low enough). The pirates did inflict some damage on the wolf-drawn chariot, then the journey into the trees finished the thing off altogether, smashing it to pieces.

Nine handgunners fell to the awful impact, thrusting spears and goring tusks of the enemy riders, the last three fleeing. This brought the orcs and the chariot into the dwarfs behind.

The Compagnia centre was being badly mauled, but on the right flank events were  favouring them - the arabyan horse managed to defeat, drive off and then ride down the goblins, and at the loss of only one desert rider. The goblin chariot nearby did not like the look of all this, and fled away in panic.

Flush with success, the arabyans swung to charge the other goblin riders. This time the fight was a more even affair, but the sight of the arabyan standard bearer bravely holding it aloft whilst issuing curses in his strange native tongue made the goblins decide that this fight was not for them - they too turned and fled, this time getting away.

The buccaneers now ran as best they could from the trees back towards the wagons, hoping their to secure the vital supplies against any foe that got through.

Their efforts were to prove insufficient, however, for the wolf chariot slew three dwarfs from its impact alone, then the greenskins’ boars and spears fatally pierced five more. Orrenguard did what he could (which was quite a lot) for he smote the orc big boss, their commander. Even so, the dwarfs felt hard pressed and beaten by this assault, and they turned and fled, being hacked down and trampled in the process.

The arabyan horse were too far away to help, and the buccaneers knew full well that if a rank and file regiment of armoured dwarfs could not withstand the boar riders, then they truly had no chance.

(Midway through turn 3 time stopped play - I had to do a lot of rules explaining to the beginner. He learned quick, for victory was obviously his.)

The supplies were lost and the buccaneers knew it. Keeping their pistols loaded in case of a surprise along the way, they ran off leaving the greenskins hooting and jeering as they tore the baggage wagons apart to see what they had won. The arabyan horse managed to meet up with them about half a mile away, and the two companies made for a sorry sight indeed when they finally reached the camp that evening.

Victory to the greenskins.

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