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Imperial Artisans ... The Painters, Crafters & Writers Guilds => The Imperial Office => Topic started by: Padre on July 12, 2013, 07:55:24 PM

Title: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 12, 2013, 07:55:24 PM
To see the new, 'improved' version of the campaign, where the earlier pictures are being replaced with better ones without a Photobucket watermark, and in which I am editing the posts to improve the text, then please take a look at my own website ...

www.bigsmallworlds.com

I am now re-doing to images from the start for my new video version of the campaign stories. The improved images are being inserted into the Big Small Worlds website, making it even better.

The video version of the campaign is ongoing, and can be found here ...

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCr1dPOO-E4QxPhRozk7lkVg

Note: Soon Photobucket is going go make the 'old' photobucket images here disappear altogether, which I am glad about as they are not the up to date versions. But the IMGUR images from about half way through the thread onwards should stay around for some time at least!

The Living

It had been a long day already, thought Biagino, and it was not yet ended. His sandaled feet ached, his grey, woollen cassock chafed and his worries refused to be forgotten. Unused to such exercise, his whole frame, of which there was a surfeit, complained in a variety of fashions from the neck down. As a priest of Morr he had rarely been asked to hurry, and although often expected to stand for hours on end when officiating the internment of the rich and powerful, graveyard grounds were not usually as uneven as this present path. He did not complain, however, so as not to appear weak. Considering what they were escaping from, it simply would not do for a Morrite cleric to show fear. If anyone in the company was expected stand this test, it was him.

The company had been wordless now for the best part of an hour, ever since they entered the woods - the silent trees had been all that was needed to tip everyone into their own private thoughts. Not that their passage was quiet. The loads upon the mules’ backs clattered and jingled, the hooves thudded as they threw up clods of clayey soil, whilst the armoured plates on the four knights and their mounts at the head of little column added another clinking and scraping layer of sound. At least with trees growing thick on both sides of the track the noise would be muffled, and so less likely to be heard by others in the woods.

They were currently somewhere south of Ebino, having already crossed the river there. But they had not stayed upon the road, Lord Guglielmo preferring instead to move parallel to it along a much lesser used track. Fearing that the evil power now ruling Miragliano might already be able to reach this far, he had decided it was best not to make things too easy for the foe by travelling openly along the obvious and well trod route. And so it was they were now traversing these rarely visited woods. 

Suddenly the man walking beside Biagino, a tall servant called Bertoldo, who swaggered along with an woodsman’s axe on his shoulders as if it were a weapon for battle and he himself a soldier, spoke.

“We ain’t exactly what you’d call an army, are we?” His voice was oddly discordant with the mood of the party, as if it were a comment made on a quiet afternoon at an alehouse table. “I mean, four knights – one a Lord, I grant you – a pair of squires and us lot.”

One of the mules behind them seemed to take exception to Bertoldo’s unexpected words and brayed in the peculiar manner of such beasts, pulling stubbornly on his rope.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast4_zps7afb78ab.jpg)

Biagino frowned. “I can assure you, even though I walk here at your side, and freely admit to having drunk with you and some of the other servants on occasion, that I am not, as you say, one of you lot. I am an ordained priest of Morr, ‘father’ not ‘brother’, and would be grateful if you address me as such.”

The priest thought that making such a comment would prove that he too was similarly unperturbed by their present situation. Such subtlety was wasted on the Bertoldo, however, who simply nodded absently, as if only half listening.

“Not an army at all,” he repeated, dreamily.

“Not an army at all, father,” corrected Biagano half-heartedly, already losing interest in pressing the point concerning his status. “Why?” he asked instead, “Were you expecting an army? We are heading away from trouble, at least for now, not towards it. We are certainly not looking to fight a battle. Or I should say, we are expecting to fight a battle, but only when Lord Guglielmo has obtained an army. Until then, we are merely what we are.”

“Well if we ain’t an army,” said Bertoldo, pointing forwards, "then why is noble Sir Benedetto carrying Duke Alessandro’s battle standard?”

Up ahead, riding beside Lord Guglielmo, Sir Benedetto was indeed carrying the Sforta standard, green within an orange border, emblazoned with the image of a monstrous, coiled serpent in the act of consuming a naked man.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast2_zpsdb5c1e80.jpg)

“A banner can be carried by one man,” Biagino answered, somewhat confused. “A knight at that. It doesn’t have to be at the head of an army.”

“I suppose not,” yielded Bertoldo, his subsequent intake of breath pregnant with another question. The priest did not have to wait long. “So why are we carrying Duke Alessandro’s banner, when he is our enemy?”

“Alessandro is now our enemy, of that there is no doubt. He can never be otherwise, for he can never be cured of what he has become. Only destroyed. But he is no longer duke.”

That got Bertoldo’s attention. He looked at Biagino with real confusion writ across his face.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast3b_zpsda644ea9.jpg)

“Duke Alessandro is dead,” continued the priest. “Assuming his son is dead too, which seems certain from the reports, then Lord Guglielmo is duke. By rights, the banner is his now.”

“Never thought of that,” admitted the servant. “The duke is dead.”

“And that is why he has become our enemy. The worst wickedness in the eyes of Morr is that of vampires, for not only is their vile existence a sinful corruption of all that is right, but they then add insult to injury by raising the dead to serve them.”

“Of that I have never had any doubt, father,” said Bertoldo. “Their naughtiness surely surpasses everyone else’s. Yet … if Duke Alessandro were to command us now, his lawful subjects…”

“We were his subjects, before. But that which speaks with the duke’s voice now is not the duke. Duke Alessandro  is gone, supplanted by the demonic spirit that now inhabitants his animated corpse. We owe his corpse no loyalty, only respect. And all chance to show that respect has been  taken from us by the demon. Duke Alessandro is dead. That which now calls itself duke of Miragliano is our enemy, and is indeed the enemy of all mankind. He is a blasphemy, a foul corruption mocking Morr.”

Bertoldo smiled, as if his dreamy musings had quite suddenly turned to happiness. “So we’re not traitors, nor thieves, nor even shirking our duties,” he exclaimed.

“No,” agreed Biagino. “We were once and still remain good and loyal subjects …”

“… of the living duke,” said Bertoldo, finishing Biagino’s words for him.

A few moments passed – just enough to make the priest begin to believe the servant was satisfied and might well fall silent once more.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast3a_zps0021347c.jpg)

Then Bertoldo piped up again.

“You know the duke would live a lot longer if we just continued south, forgot the whole raising an army business and settled down somewhere safe.”

Biagino did not know where to begin. Losing the will to explain the matter further, not least to a mere servant such as Bertoldo, he was sorely tempted simply to tell the man to hold his tongue, then perhaps to lecture a little upon a servant’s place in the world. But then he remembered his own father had been little better than Bertoldo in station, and the thought was enough to make him try again.

“First, if the duke were to do as you suggest then he would be duke merely in title. Is a shepherd without a flock truly a shepherd?”

“But Duke Guglielmo never had a flock,” answered Bertoldo.

An answer was not what Biagino had intended at all. The question was rhetorical.

Bertoldo obviously had no idea. “He never ruled Miragliano. He just governed Udolpho in his uncle’s name.”

Trying but failing to hide his exasperation, the priest asked, "Then do you call a shepherd who has no flock and never had a flock before, a shepherd?”

“Probably not,” said Bertoldo. “I’d say he was just a man who wants to be a shepherd.”

Biagino let the thought take a proper root in Bertoldo’s mind for a moment. Then continued, “Don’t get me wrong. Lord Guglielmo is the rightful possessor of the title. He has the blood, and was next in line to inherit. He is by all that is right and lawful the duke. It helps, however, if he has something to be duke of!”

“I have it, father,” said Bertoldo, as if he had just managed to secure a slippery fish that had been writhing in his hands close to escape. “And second?”

Only momentarily satisfied at his apparent success at explaining things, this last comment had Biagino confused.

“Second?”

“You said ‘first’,” explained the servant, “so I thought there’d be a second.”

Gods, but I am tired. “There is a second, though it ought to be first in the minds of all men of faith and sense. Second, it is the duty of all men, Tileans in particular I would say, to fight wickedness and evil. If everyone went south and settled as you so bravely suggest, then who would there be to defend against our enemy? We all die. There is no running away from that. If we do not fight and defeat that which would steal our souls, then we are all doomed.”

“Doomed,” echoed Berdoldo.

At last, he fell silent again. Biagino was left wondering whether his attempts to explain had failed altogether to reassure the servant. Then that concern was washed away by another. Oh, my aching feet.
………………………………………………………………………………………….
At the head of the column, Duke Guglielmo rode behind a blunderbuss armed coachman. There was no coach.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast1_zps04424bc4.jpg)

He carried his helm beneath his arm, the better to see the woods around him; his sword unsheathed, ready for a fight; and he bore a fixed expression, brooding and stern. He was like unto an equestrian statue, but seated upon a living horse.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast1a_zps081ac303.jpg)

Inside his mind, however, there was turmoil.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Notes:

As I mentioned in the other thread, this time I am not trying to do this one all alone. I have 6 players I must keep this moving for, who will create a story I too can revel in, rich and varied and unexpected. Nor is the other thread is wasted, as the tale that was unfolding there has been incorporated into the history and background for this campaign.

The characters in the piece above are 'non-player' characters. Hopefully they will appear in later stories too - if a player has them all killed though, then they won't! I want to do these illustrated story pieces from NPCs' viewpoints, interspersed with bat reps, modeling reports and various other pieces. It will also be a nice and vivid way for the six players to gain insights and a feel for the world. I can't really do stuff from the players' perspective as they are playing the game, and they may not want the other players knowing what they're up to!

The Vampire Duke Allessandro is one of the six players. He is busy painting his army, and he's much better at it than me. He once sold an entire VC army, a few years ago. So now he is painting a new one! Me, I've got scenery to make and mercenaries to paint. Lots of mercenaries.


Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 13, 2013, 01:32:12 AM
Sounds like a new good start!  And a bit of the trademark humor thrown oin as well. :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::

Looking forward to more.  No pun intended.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 21, 2013, 10:53:51 PM
I liked your unintended pun, GP.  :icon_lol: So, you asked for more, and my players need more. What follows is in effect an advertisement for some mercenaries. Will any of my players want to employ them I wonder?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Green Corsairs
 
The storm had finally subsided just before daybreak, and as the roaring thunder, lashing rain and rushing wind all diminished, so too did the shouting. There had been a lot of shouting through the night, mainly by Sea Boss Scarback, the product of anger, frustration and a pressing need not to let things get any worse. Then again, Scarback was not that sure things could get worse.
 
As the day dawned Scarback could see that all his ships were gone, either consumed by fire in the fight, lost to the sea or destroyed by the black rocks. Perhaps the skaven always intended that the tempest should hit moments after they engaged in battle, but more likely they simply attacked when the opportunity presented itself, regardless of the weather. Either way, the storm had very much added to the Green Corsairs’ misery.

Even by greenskin standards, the ratmen seemed oblivious to the dangers that the approaching storm presented, a carelessness further proved by the unstable weaponry they employed. The diabolical machines affixed to their bows vomited long, sparking streams of unnaturally green-tinged flames, and their first blast had washed over the galley Bashdemall from bow to stern, killing the crew before they could even leap into the sea. Their second blast had gone catastrophically wrong as the machine burst and blew the entire front half of the skaven ship to pieces, yet this misfortune did nothing to help balance the odds, for the skaven vessels outnumbered the Green Corsairs three to one. Just as the storm hit, the Hullsplitter was boarded by a swarm of ratmen, so that every single orc aboard was matched by uncountable foes. The rest of Scarback’s fleet, attempting at that very moment to turn and so avoid the sheets of fire, had suddenly found themselves cruelly embayed on a lee shore, and so suffered more from the storm than the battle. Scarback’s flagship, the Doombringer, had been driven onto the black rocks by the wind, while the smaller ships Cracker and Orc’s Whelp had both just managed to avoid the same fate, being subsequently yanked out to sea by a rip current. Whether they escaped the Skaven vessels as well as the rocks was anybody’s guess.

The luckiest ship, perhaps, was the Mancrusher, for she had somehow skirted the rocks and run ashore on the one little beach along this particular stretch of the Tilean coast. She was named after a memorable incident when a Sartosan boarder had fallen between her hull and that of the ship he was leaping from, only to be ground into a red smear on the hulls of both ships. The Mancrusher’s smear was later made permanent with an artistic coating of red paint, but it now lay hidden by shadows as she lay careened sharply over on the sand. It would be possible to put her to sea again, but only if Scarback was willing to leave two thirds of his force behind. And he was not.
 
Scarback had drawn his blade, all the better to point with as he barked his commands, as well as to cut down several contrary goblins who had apparently forgotten who he was in their panic and confusion. Clad in a long coat torn from the bloated corpse of an already fat man his crew fished from the sea a few months back, with his brightly patterned scarf wound about his waist, he took a moment to consider what exactly he might do next.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenCorsairs5_zps3c490bb9.jpg)

His first mate Jalgador, whose own viciously curved cutlass had also chastised a goblin or two that night, pointed out to sea. “That’s Doombringer’s mast. She can’t be deep. Y’reckon we can get some stuff off ‘er?”

Boss Scarback peered out into the slowly lightening gloom until he could make it out too – just two feet of mast head, which would not be visible at all if it were not for the raggedy pennant dangling soggily from it. “No-one would come up again if they went under there, the waves and the rocks would see to that, a hammer and anvil to break their bones and crush the air from their lungs.”

“We gots lots o’stuff already,” interrupted the goblin trader Poglin Fangface, who was standing between the two orcs. His oversized panache feather hung heavily from his ragged black hat, and the clawed toes of his left foot stuck out of the hole at the end of his boot. “We gots it piled up behind the rocks.”

Neither orc looked at him, Jaglador merely grunting an acknowledgement. Still staring at the tip of his lost ship’s mast, Scarback was not so sure that ‘lots o’stuff’ was enough. “We got powder? Good powder?” he asked.

“Three barrels, not countin’ what the lads ‘ad about themselves,” answered Poglin. “Only them that went under for a bit has got soggy powder, the rest is good.”

“We got guns?”

“A brace of ‘em,” said the goblin. “And not little swivels, these is minions. And we got more’n a score of iron roundshot. The powder’s enough to keep ‘em hot for an hour or two.”

“How d’ya get them?” asked Jaglador.

“They’re the chasers from the Mancrusher. Fell right off ‘er onto the sand.”

Boss Scarback now noticed another one of his orcs was coming up the slope towards them, Hogg Yellowtongue, a musket on his shoulder. One of his other guards gave a welcoming ‘ho!’

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenCorsairs4_zps6fae3b9e.jpg)

Hogg had not been in Scarback’s boat, so his presence meant that at least some others from the Doombringer must have got to the shore. Scarback’s quartermaster was on the rocks down below closer to the water, leaning on a long spear. Over the sound of the surf he could not possibly have heard what they had just talked about, but Scarback knew he was probably thinking over the matter of salvage too.

“We ain’t getting anything off her,” Boss Scarback shouted loud enough for the quartermaster to hear. “Look all you like, but she’s lost and all that was on her.”

Jaglador suddenly looked worried. “Boss,” he said, “we ain’t lost the stone, ‘ave we?”

Scarback grinned. “No Jag, we still got it.” He turned to look at the goblin trader. “It’s safe, ain’t it Poggy? You done what I told yer?”

“Two o’ my lads is doin’ it right now boss. We’ll bury it deep and lay a rock o’er the spot. It’s inland a bit, like you said.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenCorsairs3_zpsc052b045.jpg)

“Good,” said Scarback. “Deep is good, deep is best. Them rats’ll know where it is if it ain’t put deep. They’s hungry for it, enough to try to take it from us. Now if they attack again, they still won’t get. No way. Now they’s gonna have to pay dear if they want it. An’ I mean dear. I’ll have ships and rat’s heads and a pile o’ shiny stuff, and that’s just fer starters. I wants payment and recompense for injuries received.”

“How we gonna get all that?” asked Jaglador.

“Give it time, Jaggy boy. Let ‘em realise it ain’t gone down with the ships, and then they needs must find us. When they see we ain’t carrying it, then they’ll know they gotta pay.” He would have to kill the two goblins who buried it, of course, otherwise they might blab - maybe kill Poglin too, but only if necessary as the trader was useful.

Blissfully ignorant of what Scarback was thinking, Poglin hefted his blunderbuss onto his shoulder, used the back of his free hand to wipe snot from his nose, and asked, “What we do in the meantime, then? Where do we go?”

“Well,” said Scarback, “we don’t stay here. We go, and quickly. Make ‘em think we’re in a rush to get away, like we’re taking the stone with us.”

The other remnants of Scarback’s pirates, mostly goblins, had gathered upon some flat ground inshore from the rocky beach. A few entire companies had survived the chaos of the night, having managed to get into the towed boats, but most were the rag tag remnants of crews lost either in the battle or to the storm and sea. Poglin had mustered every goblin he could find, ordering them to recover anything of any worth whatsoever from the Mancrusher, the wrecks and the surf.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenCorsairs2_zps805e5f10.jpg)

Beside the pair of minions rescued from the ship, the shot and budge barrels, was a pile of casks, boxes, rope and tools. All the salvaged weapons were being carried or had been tucked in belts, as Scarback had ordered everyone made ready for a tussle in case the rats land a force. No one felt particularly safe on the beach, for if even the skaven did not come to finish them off, some local Tileans might take exception to their uninvited presence. Now the goblins were awaiting orders. Heavily armed with cutlasses, pistols, handguns and axes, they looked like a force to be reckoned with.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenCorsairs1_zpsda98621d.jpg)

But Scarback knew better. The goblins could prove useful, but never on their own. Poglin’s rabble made a lot of noise, and were ugly to boot, but if his force was to be taken seriously, he needed as many orcs as he could get. Luckily an entire company of crossbow-armed orcs, the biggest and meanest of the three such companies he had on his ships, had made it to the shore a couple of miles to the south and had marched through the rocky hills to join the other survivors.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenCorsairs6_zpse92502a4.jpg)

With these and his own boys forming the core, the goblins adding numbers, and the artillery pieces some punch, Scarback was satisfied he had just the sort of force he needed for what he intended to do next. “Just a matter of decidin’ where to go,” he declared, as much to himself as to the others.
 
“What about Viadaza?” suggested Jaglador. “Lord Adolfo will take us on again, if the price is right.”
 
“No,” said Scarback. “Not without ships he won’t. He don’t use the likes of us in his land army. ‘Cos that’s what we are now – soldiers not sailors. Time was his papa Magledy the Sharp would’ve found us some scrapping to do, but that all changed when Magledy took the whole city and had every greenskin on the streets killed. Adolfo won’t change the law for the likes of us. If we offered our service to him, he’d disarm us, break us up and put us on the galleys as slaves. No, Jaggy boy, we gotta go somewhere we gets to stick together, do some honest scrapping for our pay, and bide our time until the rats get to thinkin’ they have to make a deal. And until they work that out, we ain’t all lonely but instead is part of a bigger mob.”

“So where to?” asked Jaglador.

“Whoever will ‘ave us. Urbimo down to Alcente, there’s plenty might need some muscle. I’ve heard that a Waagh has crossed the Black Gulf, maybe someone will pay us to ‘ave a go at them?”

Poglin began to emit a strange whining noise, then checked himself. “Fightin’ greenskins from the Badlands? There could be millions of ‘em!”

Scarback laughed. “We won’t be on our lonesome. Besides, I don’t mind who I kills or how many I kills, as long as there’s pay for food and drink on the way, and some plunder to be had for all me efforts.”

Now it was Jaglador who laughed. “I could do with the food now. My belly is gurgulating something rotten.”


Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 26, 2013, 10:54:01 AM
A Recent History of Tilea, Part One
This written for the wise Lord Fazi Duccio by Master Lamberto Petruzzi of Astiano, the work being completed in Spring of the year IC2401


My Lord may I humbly present this useful summary concerning the great events over the last century in the realm of Tilea. I am grateful for the works of Uther von Gelburg for my account concerning the years up to the middle of the twenty fourth century.

A map of northern Tilea drawn in IC2341
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/NorthernTilea.jpg)

In the earliest years of the twenty fourth century the infamous ‘Tilean Terror’ consumed much of northern Tilea. Vast hordes of ratto uomo swarmed from the Blighted Marshes to despoil and poison the land. Most respected scholars now agree that this verminous tide was born of the summoning of a vile chaos god, whose guiding power briefly united the usually quarrelsome clans. Udolpho was utterly ruined, its entire population massacred, and shortly afterwards Toscania  became afflicted with a particularly virulent plague of boils and buboes. Desperately employing fire in an effort to cleanse the most diseased quarters, the Toscanians were unable to contain what they themselves had begun and the entire city subsequently burned to the ground. To this day Toscania remains a ruinous pile of blackened stones.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/ReportPic2_zpse662df29.jpg)

Ebino  also suffered a grievous affliction, but commanded by the condottiere duke Bardollomao Colleoni, its people managed to thwart the besiegers’ attempts at infiltration. Nevertheless, every Ebinan village was razed, all its castles and manor houses, and the petty realm was left in a sad and sorry state, so that even today it is barely recovered. The great city of Miragliano, however, survived the turmoil. Its people, living upon the edge of the great swamp, had developed immunities to the fevers arising from the foetid waters, and its substantial garrison remained strong enough to hold the city’s mighty walls against all assaults. Most crucially it was well supplied from the sea, and just as importantly could not be undermined on account of its vast moat.
 
The beginning of the end of the Terror came in 2309 when a great battle took place before the city of Ravola. The Ravolans, aided by Lord Francis d’Este’s army of Brettonians, scattered a massive swarm of rat men, after which the enemy’s attacks stuttered out. The swarm never reached further southwards than the villages and farms around Viadaza and Scoccio, where there they were finally defeated in a series of engagements fighting mercenaries and militia in the employ of the Trantian Lord Jolenzo de Medizi.
 
In 2322, encouraged by both Remas and Pavona, and led by able militia captains, the populace of Urbimo rose up to shake off the yoke of Trantian rule. By this time the ‘War of the Tilean Sea’ had already begun, in which the resurgent ratto uomo committed uncountable acts of piracy, both petty and large, and fought several full-fleet battles. In 2332 the rat men besieged the city of Portomaggiore. Fearing they might be next to suffer, Luccinni and Raverno contracted to dispatch a large relief force, while an allied Sartosan fleet struck from the sea, and together these lifted the siege. Portomaggiore, keen to retain independence, subsequently endured years of hardship repaying the debts incurred.
 
In 2336, fifteen years after the death of the great Jolenzo de Medizi, and grown tired of what they claimed was the tyrannical rule of his son Piero de Medizi, the people of Trantio, in an action not dissimilar to the ‘Urbimo Uprising’, assaulted every one of the Medizi clan they could lay their hands on, hounding them out of their palatial residences, imprisoning some, murdering others. This became known as the ‘Liberation of Trantio’. Piero de Medizi and a band of loyal armed retainers fled the city with all the treasure they could carry and rode off into exile.

Pietro Soldoli, subsequently to become the Gonfaloniere of Trantio, is seen here encountering a band of Piero de Medizi’s looting brigante during the Liberation of Trantio in 2336.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/ReportPic1_zpse89a2039.jpg)

Trantio then declared itself a Republic once again, and began the struggle to regain what they lost during Piero’s rule, including a drawn out conflict to regain the port of Urbimo. In 2337, the government and mob of Urbimo declared their Captain General Enrico Videlli to be a traitor - accusing him of plotting with Trantio to return their town to its rule. When they subsequently beheaded him they gained a new enemy, Enrico’s condottiere brother Videllozo Videlli.

In 2343 Frederigo Ordini, Arch-Lector of the Church of Morr and Reman Overlord declared a Holy War against the Skaven Menace. He assembled a massive army consisting of the traditional Reman legions, contingents sent by nearly every Tilean state great and small, and every mercenary company the wealthy church’s gold could buy, including the famous Compagnia del Sole.

Here Frederigo inspects a brigade of Pavonan soldiers assembled for the Holy War
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Remas7_zpscf45827c.jpg)

A huge fleet, the like of which had not been amassed in the living memory of a dwarf, carried the army and towed hundreds of flat bottomed barges (specially designed to negotiate the marshes) across the Tilean Sea to the mouth of the river Berselli. But the expedition into the Blighted Marshes proved to be a disaster, with nearly every soldier perishing over the next year, either through disease, starvation or injury. This failure rocked the Church of Morr as Tileans everywhere questioned how a supposedly divinely inspired war could fail. Riots broke out in Remas, and charges were brought against the Arch-Lector accusing him of agreeing a secret alliance with certain Skaven clans.

A Secret Meeting at the ruined Tempio Dimenticato in Remas in IC 3242
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Prologue2Pic5.jpg)

When it was learned that a newly emergent Skaven alliance had indeed wrested control of Skavenblight, gaining power as its rivals’ strength was sapped in the war against the doomed Morrite expedition, the suspicions grew into open accusations. No great trial was ever held, but Ordini’s reputation was ruined, and the Church of Morr, by far the most influential of all Tilean churches, suffered ignominy. The only exception to this newfound shame for the Church of Morr was the ‘Sagrannalian’ sect in the city of Trantio. There, the radical, reforming priest Father Sagrannalo had been preaching against corruption and decadence within the church for many years. As he now seemed to have been proved right all along, his influence grew mightily. 

The Remans declared that never again would their Overlord be a churchman of any kind – that civil authority and military power should be kept separate from religious authority. The new overlord, Duke Giovanni Matuzzi, re-established order to the Reman state and ruled so successfully that he began a dynasty which has held power ever since. Perhaps the most surprising aspect of this rule is that the standing army of Remas became composed almost entirely of foreign mercenaries. Remans, Tileans even, were thought too liable to be swayed by the leaders of the Church of Morr. Although the standing army has both shrunk and grown in the intervening decades, occasionally necessitating the use of locally raised militia, its core ‘alien’ nature has been maintained, even growing more exotic. Currently the Reman army’s professional soldiers even include a large regiment of Cathayans.

Several years after the Holy War debacle, the new Arch-Lector of Morr made a proclamation, read by priests throughout Tilea, in which he declared that the disgrace belonged solely to Frederigo Ordini, who had succumbed to the temptations of worldly power, and that the church had now been fully purged of all such corruptions to become re-sanctified in the eyes of Morr. Today, even after all this time, the church may not quite as influential as it once was, yet it is without doubt the most powerful church throughout the realm, its traditional influence deeply rooted in the heart and soul of common Tileans, perhaps explaining why the current Arch Lector, Calictus II, feels able to criticize the princely rulers of Tilea for failing to march immediately against the Undead Lord of Miragliano.

In the middle years of the 24th century the city state of Pavona enjoyed a renaissance under the able guidance of Duchess Elisabetta. The actual ruler, Duke Alfonso de Montefeldo, was often incapacitated by illness, and thus relied upon his wife Elisabetta to fulfil various responsibilities. She was both refined and fashionable, and gathered a great entourage of artists and poets to make her court reputedly the most cultivated in Tilea. Throughout the city building work transformed the old fashioned, fortified towers into ornate and delicate palatial residences, relying on the city’s walls for defence. Pavona contributed to several conflicts, sending a very large contingent of its young gentlemen and men at arms to serve in the Arch-Lector’s Holy War (see the illustration above) and providing several companies of condottieri and gifted engineers to serve in the Bastard’s War (see below). In 2358 a large force of wild men and goblinoids burst through the defences of the Stretto Pass, large enough to threaten Pavona’s doom, but the walls proved strong and the men at arms, militia and mercenaries led several sallies out at the enemy, each time preventing some scheme for assault, such as the construction of wooden siege towers, and the damning of the River Remo in an ambitious attempt to flood the city. Pavonan warriors from across the realm returned in force, and along with a goodly number of Astiano and Scozzese soldiers, arrived just in time to save the city, and chased the foul foe from the realm, cutting nigh upon every one of them down as they fled through the pass. As the bells sounded and the victory celebrations and feasting began, the Duchess finally died. It was said that she had waited to know whether her beloved city was safe before she finally yielded. Her daughter Salanna succeeded her, and ruled jointly with her husband Luigi Gondi of Verezzo for many years, Much of their rule was a happy one, though a terrible plague visited the city in 2387 during which time not only did a good third of the populace suffer and die, overwhelming the capacity of the gravediggers as well as the priests of Morr to preside over their proper burial. So it was that the unburied (or improperly interned) dead were believed to walk the streets in the hours of darkness during two nightmarish months. Even now many folk consider the darkest hours of the Pavonan night to be a cursed time – not peaceful and quiet under a star filled sky, but eerily silent and inhabited by distorted shadows that seem to possess a wicked will of their own. No other city in Tilea lights as many lanterns and torches at night as Trantio. No other city is as quiet. Duchess Salana’s son, Duke Guidobaldo Gondi, now rules this city.

In the year 2352 King Ferronso Perrotto of Luccini died in somewhat suspicious circumstances leaving no obviously legitimate heir to rule his empire. His two bastard sons, Scoroncolo and Gismondo - the governors of Mintopua and Capelli respectively - went to war over the matter, and bloody conflict (‘The Bastards’ War’) engulfed the whole of the southern tip of Tilea. Sartosan Pirates, hired by the governor of Alcente to assist in the defence of the city, took possession of it instead. Pavezzano’s walls were battered down by siege engines, and at one point the population of Capelli fled desperately to seek shelter in the sylvan realm of Sussurio Wood.

Portomaggiore, heavily indebted both to Luccini and the Sartosan admiral Gran Strozzi, and barely clinging to independence, stopped paying the Luccinian portion of their debts as soon as it became clear that Luccini was unable to spare forces to argue the matter with them. Gran Strozzi, however, continued his stranglehold on Portomaggioren trade. Supported by soldiers and funds sent by exiled elders currently residing in Ridraffa and Remas, the Portomaggioran council of elders declared the Gran Strozzi debt also repaid the morning after every Sartosan ship in the city’s harbour had been simultaneously burned in a coordinated act of sabotage. A year later, Gran Strozzi himself died at sea, fighting against Gismondo of Luccini, and the question of the loan died with him.

The city of Luccini emerged from the Bastard’s War very much impoverished, with Scoroncolo the victor. His descendant still rules there, the boy King Ferronso III, but the days of its glory seem ever more distant as the years roll by. King Ferronso is nearing the age of majority, however, and is gradually taking more and more control from his council. Many believe him to be much like his great grandfather, the great Ferronso I. He has recently contracted the service of the infamous Arabyan mercenary company, Gedik Mamidous’ Sons of the Desert. This is presumed to be in response to the threat presented by Khurnag’s Waagh!

The Republic of Trantio finally accepted defeat in its long drawn-out war to regain control of Urbimo in 2349, a decision helped by the fact that they were somewhat more concerned with countering the activities of a large force of greenskins who had spewed from the Border Princes along the Via Nano to roam the Trantine Hills raiding the outlying settlements of Trantio, Pavona and Astiano. This had long been a recurring problem, but this time the goblinoid strength was greater than ever before. The famous Trantian Gonfaloniere Soldoli died in one of the skirmishes, after which the ancient prophet of Morr, Father Sagrannalo, buoyed to even greater influence since the fall of the Arch-Lector Ordini, spurred the people of the city to form the strongest militia force ever made and scour the hills clean of every goblin and orc. In 2350, inspired by his successes and growing ever more manic with old age, Sagrannalo declared the ‘Holiest War’, intending to utilise his new army of Trantio to cleanse the other princely states of Tilea of corruption.

Father Sagrannalo declares his ‘Holiest War’ in Trantio in 2350
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Prologue3Pic1.jpg)

Although many of the militia subsequently deserted, thousands of fanatics followed him to attack and ‘cleanse’ towns and villages, until defeated by a condottiere mercenary force in battle outside Stiani. Trantio had to pay dearly to compensate for the damage done by Sagrannalo’s fanatics – by now several city states were allied against them, threatening to gain reparations through acts of war. Trantio declared its new policy was to stay out of other states’ affairs. But exiled ruler Piero Medizi, supported by his condottieri son Liovvani, took advantage of the bad feeling against Trantio stirred up by Sagrannalo’s ‘Holiest War’, and aided by loyalists within Trantio (the sinister ‘Bigi’) took possession of the city in a cunningly and brutally combined coup and assault. The entire Albinni family (traditional rivals of the Medizi) were slaughtered - man, woman and child - and many who were believed to have Sagrannalian tendencies were put to the sword. A new tyrannical rule began, first under Prince Piero, then his son Liovvani, and now Liovanni’s son, Girenzo Medizi. The first two ruled Trantio with an iron grip, and Prince Girenzo is no exception.
 
Once their war against Trantio came to a conclusion, the people of Urbimo looked forward to peace and prosperity, but it was not to be. The condottieri Videllozo Videlli, who had been unwilling to ally with the Republic of Trantio (an action which might be seen as admission that his executed brother had indeed been plotting with the Trantians), joined with Liovvani Medizi, son of the returned prince of Trantio. Thus began the second, long, war between Urbimo and Trantio (2352 – 2359). What little assistance Pavona and Remas were willing to provide, either  publicly or secretly, allowed the Urbimans to hold on to their city for years. Only when Piero Medizi died and Liovvani returned to Trantio did events turn in their favour again. Videllozo was wounded by a crossbow quarrel, and took ship intended to sail to the great city of Miragliano where the famous doctor Jacopo practised his reputedly miraculous skills. An Urbiman ship gave chase, however, and both ships were lost at sea. Urbimo remains fiercely independent, its walls made stronger than ever.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 26, 2013, 09:28:54 PM
A Recent History of Tilea, Part Two

A map of the entire Tilean Peninsula
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TileaInkMap1_zps6d06d44b.jpg)

In 2355 the wizard lord Niccolo Bentiglovio of Campogrotta, the third Bentiglovio to rule in succession, had ruled for more twenty years. His reign was widely reputed tyrannical, and his provisionate consisted of a large regiment of Ogres, bolstered - as if this were necessary - by veteran mercenaries reportedly more cruel than any other in Tilea.

A company of brutes patrolling the night-time streets of Campogrotta in 2353
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/ProloguePic3.jpg)

As a consequence not only was the wizard lord’s rule over his own people terrible, but his reputation darkened across Tilea. In 2350 he had proclaimed the elite of Ravola to be foreign invaders (ironic in that his strength lay with a force that was not even human) and this obviously created a particular friction between him and his northern neighbours, involving several skirmishes. Still his city thrived economically, as a healthy trade flowed along the Carraia del Ferro (the Iron Road) between this city and Dwarfen mines of Karak Borgo in the neighbouring Vaults. It was also believed that Lord Niccolo ended the friction that once existed between Campogrotta and the denizens of Tettoverde Forest (believed to be a secretive tribe of sylvan elves). As it is no easy thing to remain on friendly terms at one and the same time with these two inimical races, it perhaps is odd that he was so hated by his own people and other Tilean states. In 2355 most of his ogres left upon some errand of their own, without Lord Niccolo’s leave to do so. They were not gone long, but even so it was long enough for the people of the city to rise up in rebellion and burn down Lord Niccolo’s palace with him inside: thus ended his reign.

Most of the populace then fled the city and headed westwards when the Ogres returned. It is commonly joked that the ogres had been back in the city for a fortnight before they realised that their lord and master was no longer alive. More surprisingly the Ogres did not plunder or destroy the city (well, only a little bit, and much of its wealth had been removed by the refugees) but instead left once more, this time being absent for many years. Three decades passed and the city re-established itself, even began to thrive. A merchant filled Republican Council ruled the city, and goods were sent in quantity down the River Tarano to be traded in Viadaza and Remas and further afield. Then in 2388 a strange, old man arrived at the city gates declaring that he was the Wizard Lord Bentivoglio, claiming he had never perished and had so returned to take back what was his. The people laughed for this fool had no army, no ogres, and they chased him away. The event became little more than a tavern tale, and the city continued to prosper. Twelve years later, in 2400, the old man returned – or at least a man claiming to be him returned - this time he did indeed have a regiment of ogres and within two days the city was his. The fighting was brutal, the ogres cruel. Brutality and cruelty now curse the city, for ‘Niccolo Returned’ took possession of a palazzo and settled into obscurity, while the Ogre Tyrant Razger Boulderguts ruled in practise. He sent envoys to his Tilean neighbours declaring his governorship in Lord Niccolo’s name, and is even rumoured to have recommenced trade with the dwarfs of Karak Borgo. One courtly wit in Remas remarked that just as the first Lord Niccolo’s ogres failed to notice that he was gone, the dwarfs have also yet to notice that Ogres have replaced the men of Tilea – after all, both races are taller than dwarfs! Meanwhile the people of Campogrotta live in fearful obedience, and in ever harder circumstances as the ogres steadily consume the city’s wealth.

The ruler of Ravola, Prince Sigismondo d’Este, son of the Bretonnian Lord Francis d’Este, died in 2361. Most of the city state’s ruling elite were descendants the knights who came with Lord Francis in 2309 to fight the ratto uomo, who stubbornly clung to their ancestors’ traditions in peace and war. Prince Sigismondo left no male heir as his eldest son had died from a jousting wound, and his youngest had been lost questing in the Vaults to chase down the orcen warrior who had killed his squire. The Bretonnian king’s official ambassador, Sir Gorrin de Bordelaux, with permanent residence in the city and a seat upon Sigismondo’s privy council, declared that the new ruler should be the noble winner of a grand tourney and the knights of Ravola (who some say are more Bretonnian than the Bretonnians) clamoured to agree. A date was set, with enough time for even more landless knights to travel south through the Nuvolonc Pass from the homeland. Deliberate or now, Sir Gorrin’s tourney was to double the knightly strength in Ravola, for many stayed even after the joust, making little keeps for themselves and a handful of serfs each in the open land of Usola south of the city. The winner of the tourney, one Galleac the Red, duly became the new Prince of Ravola. When he in turn became mortally ill in 2388, having begotten only daughters, the Ravolan knights could barely contain their excitement. The precedent had been set, and once more a grand tourney was held to decide the new ruler. This time Giacomo Uberti of Olessi, a Tilean, who tricked his way into the lists, won. An argument erupted, leading to another touney somewhat bloodier than the first - a great tumult in which several many knights perished – Giacomo was finally accepted. He had been a knight to begin with, but his title was considered insufficient in comparison with true Bretonnian knighthood, so the Bretonnian king’s ambassador, Sir Baelan of Couronne, knighted Giacomo in the Bretonnian manner, and made him vow to rule in the Bretonnian way. This he has done and continues to do, despite the grumblings of some more traditional Ravolan knights.

Alcente emerged from the Bastards’ War with a new Grand Council containing a majority of Sartosan Pirates. Happily for the city state it turned out that a good number of these Sartosan captains were tired of the constant struggle of a pirate’s life, and were happy to begin a privileged life of wealth and safety. Within years it was no longer the fashion to refer to any on the council as other than citizens and merchants, and the city prospered. In 2399, however, the city was threatened by the greenskin Waagh led by the orc warlord Khurnag which spilled into the Golfo di Pavezzo. At first the Waagh’s main strength attacked different targets, with Pavezzano putting up a brave but ultimately futile resistance lasting several months, and Monte Castello holding out much longer against a massive force of besiegers until the greenskins fell into disarray after a vicious disagreement led to murder and mayhem in their camp. Capelli and Alcente faced weaker greenskin sorties and small raiding parties, but they were both aware it was merely a taste of what was likely to come. It was too late to defeat the Waagh at sea, for it had already crossed the Black Gulf and was now receiving a steady stream of reinforcements from the Border Princes, either overland or crossing the narrow Bay of Wrecks. Alcente knew from historical experience that asking for aid from Sartosa would be inviting a different kind of trouble, and so too would asking Luccini to help. So it was that they turned to the powerful northern trading company of the VMC (Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie), who already had many agents and warehouses in the city, to ask for help. Terms were agreed regarding future trade and a share in political power, and mercenaries were hired. Earlier this year the first of the VMC’s own northerner regiments arrived at Alcente, proof that the company had every intention on honouring their agreement reaping the future profits.
 
Early in the 24th century the condottiere Andrea Dornida, who was due to retire as captain-general of the Reman army, was granted governorship of his home city of Viadaza by his Reman masters. The consequence, as unexpected as it was sudden, was that he threw off the yoke of Reman rule and, supported by alliance with the Sforta of Miragliano, he made Viadaza his own. A small army of lawyers and priests gathered to prove his family’s ancient rights as Viadaza’s first family and the people proclaimed him their saviour from Reman domination. Soon, however, he began acting against the Sforta’s wishes too, making it obvious he wanted nothing more to do with their regime, and thus quickly fell out of favour with them. During the time of ‘The Terror’, when the Miraglianese Sforta were somewhat distracted, he established an aristocratic republic in Viadaza ruled in theory by twenty three noble clans (including the Cydo, Griseldi, Dornida, Filleschi, Pallavacano and Spidola), but in practice controlled by Dornida. He then went on to make the Viadazan navy a force to be reckoned with, and so successful was he in his endeavours that his fleet came out of the War of the Tilean Sea stronger than it had been before conflict began.
 
Under Andrea’s guidance the city grew rich through sea trade, including the chattel slavery business. Certainly the twenty three noble families became very wealthy. Men and women from all across the globe, whether outcasts, convicts, or born slaves, also halflings and even half-orcs, were bought and sold in Viadaza’s bustling markets. Sea faring dark-elf slavers often traded in the city, and Viadazan slaving vessels usually included half-orcs and other greenskins amongst the crews, although who by law such sailors had to remain in certain city quarters if they disembarked. It was visitors and servants such as these that gave the city an ill reputation. Worst of all, it was also widely believed that ‘Father Andrea’ was a leading member of the feared and hated Assassin’s Guild - the slippery, secret, and deadly society supposedly spanning all Tilea. In IC2351 Andrea, unlike most of his enemies, died of old age, leaving two old sons to rule after him. Their chaotic rule lasted less than a year, as they killed each other – one used a blade, then died from the poison smeared upon the handle of the same blade. The chaos then spiralled as the city fragmented, every ward and quarter fighting against the rest. Ratto Uomo were witnessed openly in the streets, in the sunlight, and no day went by without bloodshed, turmoil and grief. At least seven different people claimed to rule the city, but in truth each only held a portion, and there was much left ruled by none of those seven.

One of the seven was a half-orc called Magledy the Sharp, who for the best part of a year controlled the docks and wharves, leading an army of sea dogs and cut-throats. He had been Andrea’s harbour master, governing the previously troublesome dock workers for half a dozen years with an iron grip. Magledy the Sharp proved a cunning leader, and in one night of carefully planned riots and well-timed assaults, removed five of his rivals. The sixth, a ferocious matron called Lady Beatrice (or ‘Bloody Betty’), successfully fled the city This led to Magledy’s tyrannical rule of the entire city. But tyranny seemed to suit Viadaza, and the city slowly but surely regained the wealth it had boasted at the height of Andrea’s rule, with ample trade of a dubious nature. Magledy proclaimed that the assertion he was half orc was a vile and libellous lie, and that in truth he was as human as the best of Tileans – a sea dog and proud of it. To prove this in 2354 he had every goblin and orc in the city killed, be they pit-slaves or galley-slaves. Only those serving on board ships were spared. Still to this day the Viadazans have the legal right to slay any goblinoid they find on the streets on sight, yet even so, hundreds stride the decks of the ships in the harbour every day. In the same year Magledy married the Lady Vanozza, daughter of wizard lord Niccolo Bentiglovio of Campogrotta, with whom he then had several children. His first son, Adolfo Appuntito, born in 2363, succeeded his father in 2383 and has been Lord of Viadaza ever since. In some ways the city has become a slightly less disturbing place during his rule, for the slave trading is now performed more secretly, away from the public gaze, and there aren’t quite so many fighting pits surrounded by shouting crowds. Fewer rotting corpses hang from spikes over the gates, and Dark Elves do not walk the streets leading chained chattel slaves by the hundred to their ships. But the galleys are still rowed by greenskins, and once again people say that Viadaza is the chief home of the Assassins’ Guild. Adolfo’s mother, the septuagenarian Lady Vanozza, still lives, though is rarely seen.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 01, 2013, 12:43:00 PM
A Recent History of Tilea, Part 3

Miragliano eventually thrived after the Tilean Terror, although initially faltering for a while as an ill-governed Republic. In 2322 the condottiere general Ludo Sforta took possession of the city in one terrible night of violence and riot. Ruling at first with a heavy fist, his most loyal mercenary captains rewarded with the best titles and mot profitable commands, he ensured the city-state was securely his, but later he encouraged art and natural philosophy to flourish. Many wonders created during this time, including machines apparently magical in nature. After Ludo’s death in 2343, his brother Lord Francesco Sforta became regent during the minority of Ludo’s son Duke Marsilio Sforta. Lord Francesco enjoyed a much wider array of sports and pleasures, indulging in luxuries of every imaginable kind, and many who had once busied themselves with more serene arts and careful fabrications were now caught up in a swirl of pomp and festival, spectacular jousts and cavalcades. Lord Francesco was jealous of his own power, very cruel to those who displeased him, and even when the young Duke came of age in 2348 and should have taken the reigns himself, Lord Francesco continued his rule, while the city’s magistrates and captains strove all the harder to prove their loyalty to him.

The young Duke Marsilio walking the walls of Miragliano in 2347 with his favourite companion, Gellafno the Halfling, who was in truth (like all his servants) a spy for Lord Francesco.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Prologue4Pic2_zps98c38781.jpg)

Lord Francesco’s nephew remained merely Duke by name, and then not even that, for young Marsilio finally lost his wits and became a gibbering fool. Surrounded by luxury and toys, but no-one he could trust, he lived a long life of insanity, and bore no heirs.

Lord Francesco was aided in his rule by his brother Lord Gianpaolo Sforta, governor of Udolpho. This once beautiful city had been rebuilt from the ruins left by the skaven siege of 2303. Udolpho’s walls were not just repaired but improved, and the palace made twice as grand as previously, yet much of the city’s populace continued to dwell in ramshackle huts atop the ruins and rubble, or down in amongst cellars and dungeons buried beneath. Lord Gianpaolo Sforta’s governorship of Udolpho began in 2341, and he became famous for his interest in alchemy, constructing a castle-laboratory of extraordinary proportions from which strangely hued smoke constantly belched forth, wreathing the bubbling moats about it in noisome miasmas.

In the ten years from 2363 to 2373 three successive wars were fought against the skaven. Each time the skaven would splash and scuttle forth from the marshes in great numbers, a wave of fur and fangs, slave warriors set on carving a swathe of destruction. Each time the army of Miragliano, bolstered by condottiere mercenaries, and cleverly commanded by Francesco and Gianpaolo, would find some weak point at which to strike: once it was the enemy commander, next the explosive destruction of a store of warpstone, then finally an attack at the foe’s rear during the brightest hour of the day. Each time panic would be caused, spreading like an infection through the ratto uomo rank and file. From there on in the war would become a matter of chasing and breaking the disarrayed rats in their thousands. Clan legions would make a stand here, or become bottled up there, resulting in bloody of engagements, but in the end they too would yield to fear and flight.

Upon Lord Francesco’s death in 2375, his own son, Allessandro, became regent in his place. And when Allessandro’s cousin Marsilio died in 2377, he inherited the title of Duke to go with his actual power. Duke Allesandro proved to have inherited some of his father’s and grandfather’s interest in the arts and natural philosophy, but his true fascination was in the application of such for war. Rumours abound concerning his activities and methods, including that he and his now ancient uncle Gianpaolo used captured ratto uomo to bring to life the diabolical machines captured from the foe during the Tilean Terror and the War of the Tilean Sea, and that they poisoned the already foul waters of the Blighted marshes in such a way that for several leagues no life at all, neither beast, fowl, fish nor flora, none of the foul creatures that used to call the brackish waters home, could survive. In 2384, after a plague that finally killed his uncle, and threatened to end Duke Allesandro’s life, the famous Miraglianese Doctor Jacopo was commanded to administer solely to the Duke, and was kept prisoner for this purpose in the palace. The Duke made a full recovery the week after Doctor Jacopo took his own life. It was reported that the doctor had been slowly poisoning Alessandro until eventually the guilt of his deed drove him to suicide. The subsequent lack of poisoned potions allowed the Duke to recover.

Alessandro went back to his works and experiments. A new tower was constructed in the palace that rose nearly a hundred feet higher than any other tower in the city, and many other lesser buildings which were still more magnificent than everything in the surrounding streets. Another strange experiment spilled a potent magic into the swamps, until the vast mass of dead things lying with the foetid stink stirred themselves and began splashing westwards. Even the ratto uomo grew afraid of the Lord of Miragliano then, believing he had taken their own already tainted magics and horribly twisted them in new ways. Life for the people of Miragliano became strangely contradictory, for all were glad that such a deadly blow had been dealt against the skaven, a race previously known to swarm back in double the numbers whatever was done to them, but at the same time terrible darkness seemed to shroud the city as their ruler engaged in ever darker experiments and engaged ever more fearful servants. The fears would soon prove well founded!
 
The Duchess Maria Colleoni of Ebino (granddaughter of Duke Ludo Sforta of Miragliano), aided by her court of Miraglianese advisers, also grew concerned regarding events in Miragliano. It was the Duchess who first recognised what her cousin had actually become, and she acted quickly. Employing the famous regiment of ‘Ironside’ dwarfs, as well as several companies of experienced condottieri mercenaries, she had watchtowers made and defences dug to defend the roads and settlements of her realm, and summoned all the clerics and priests of Morr she could to assist in warding off the evil. It is said that even Ebino’s old enemy, the Arrabiatti Brotherhood, the ragged brigands who hold occasional court in the ruins of Toscania, have promised to lend their arms if it comes to battle. And so she and her people wait for the day when the vampire Duke turns his gaze eastward, praying morning, noon and night to Morr that he will deliver them in their hour of need.

Soon all of Tilea learned that Duke Alessandro was a vampire, and that all who dwelt in his city lived in fear of the undead who now guarded their gates and patrolled their walls. With all the wars that had been fought within the boundaries of Miragliano, there was no shortage of the dead to revive. It is said now that the vampire Duke has an army of the dead that rivals any mortal army in the realm. And if it is commanded to war, then all it can do is grow – for every soldier who dies in battle against it will surely rise to swell its ranks.

-----

A Weakening of the Faith

Like many Ridraffan tradesmen, for that was what he was even though he traded in gold rather than for gold, Master Boldshin had servants who left every evening to return to their own homes. Noblemen had servants packed in cellars and attics, or tucked under the stairs, who could be called upon even in the night, but in the city of Ridraffa such practise was considered above the station of a tradesmen. Besides, the fact that Master Boldshin was a dwarf in itself made it more difficult for him to employ manservants - few humans would wish to live under his roof. Nor would most of the rather limited supply of dwarfs in the city be willing to serve him either. Most young dwarfs yearned to find their fortune in engineering, masonry, carpentry, smithing – making things. Usury was not a common ambition among them. As the decades went by those same young dwarfs might well realise the error of their ways as the profits to be made became apparent, but by then they would look to become their own master and not serve some other dwarf.

Right now, as he struggled down the stone stairs in his grey night-shirt and blue striped bed hat, a spluttering candlestick in one hand and Arnholf clutched tight in the other, his famously long beard not just reaching the floor but straying dangerously underfoot, Master Boldshin was regretting his lack of nocturnal help.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/PavonaOutcast1_zpsd5468d0e.jpg)

His house was strong, built of grey stone with walls as thick as those on a watchtower, as any counting house should be considering the coffers of gold and silver often stored within. The surrounding houses were more traditionally Tilean in style, built in stone, but with shuttered windows and red tiled roofs, rather than the barred windows and strengthened slates on his house. It was not guards he needed, just someone to run down the stairs and answer the door.

He strongly suspected it was a dwarf banging at his door – there was something dwarven about the steady persistence of the rapping. Of course, he himself would not normally knock in such a manner, for he had adapted to Tilean fashions and the ways of men. Only when he was calling about a long, unpaid debt, would the wood take such a beating, often from the clubs carried by the heavies he had hired for the purpose.

“Give an old dwarf a moment,” he cried somewhat breathlessly, almost at the bottom. “The hour is late, I am tired and in no fit state to rush.” The beating ceased, hopefully just in time to forestall shouted complaints from his nearest neighbours. He dragged the three solid, iron bolts back, taking satisfaction from the reassuringly heavy clunk they made, then, just before turning the huge key, he stopped. Best take a look see first. Leaning forwards he placed his eye at the peek hole and peered through. He could see a green hat, a large and floppy thing, and the fingers of a brass hand clutching a smooth and milky rock. Is that what was bashing on my door? he wondered. What sort of visitor is this? It was definitely a dwarf, for otherwise Boldshin would have found himself looking at the fellow’s chest, not his hat.

“Who is it?” he asked, his hand resting on the key but yet to turn.

“Cousin Glammerscale, that’s who it is. And I am wondering when you became so timid, Boldshin, and afraid to so much as open a door.”

Master Boldshin was so surprised to hear the name that at first the insult did not register with him. He had not seen his cousin for many a decade, and they had parted on bad terms. Then the echo of Glammerscale’s words in his mind finally caught his attention.“Timid!” he snapped, beginning the two turns of the key that would be required to unlock the door. “My caution is not timidity but common sense. Have you forgotten my trade, cousin?” He pulled upon the door. “An unwary moneylender is not likely to thrive.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/PavonaOutcast3_zps010acb50.jpg)

Even though he had already glimpsed the floppy hat, the sight of his cousin caught him by surprise. The brass fingers and the orb they held proved to be the head of a wizard’s staff, which in the hands of a dwarf seemed to him ridiculous. And it was not just the staff that marked his cousin out as a wizard. The hem of Glammerscale’s orange coat was decorated with silver moons and suns, and beneath his arm he clutched two large tomes bound in leather, no doubt stuffed with arcane knowledge of a most undwarfen kind. The ensemble was not improved by the red tinted eye glasses he had perched on his nose, his eyes peering over their horned rims.

It was not that Boldshin did not know Glammerscale claimed to be a practitioner of the magical arts – it was the very thing that had caused them to part their ways all those years ago – just that actually witnessing his cousin garbed and accoutred as a wizard took his breath away.

“Erm …” he said.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/PavonaOutcast2_zpse2242828.jpg)

“The word you are looking for," suggested Glammerscale, "is ‘Hello’, or maybe ‘Good day’, or if I may be so bold as to advise you on the etiquette appropriate for such an occasion, perhaps ‘Welcome’ followed quickly, and this is merely a suggestion, with ‘Come in’.”

“You did it?”

The wizard dwarf’s eyes narrowed as they looked over the top of his strange spectacles. “You talk less than I remember, but make as little sense. Cousin, will you let us in? I must speak with you.”

Boldshin looked past Glammerscale at the two dwarfs behind him. They were plainly clad, neatly trimmed, silent and obviously well fed. It irked him that his insane cousin turned wizard could apparently find dwarfen servants while a prosperous fellow such as himself had to make do with part-time men. This thought added a tinge of frustration to his confusion, and did nothing to improve his foul mood. Better get them of the doorstep he decided, before the neighbours see them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/PavonaOutcast4_zps5ff31620.jpg)

“Come inside, quick now. Do not linger there.”

Glammerscale grinned knowingly, then he and his two companions followed Boldshin in. After some kafuffle over where best to lay the books, where exactly everyone should sit or stand and some embarrassing questions concerning Arnulf the stuffed bear, the little company settled to drink some ale and talk.

“I have to ask, cousin,” enquired Glammerscale. “What is it I have done?”

The question meant nothing to Boldshin.

“At the threshold,” clarified the wizard dwarf, “you said I ‘did it’? Such a statement demands a response, I reckon, and I willing to give one I can assure you. If only I knew what was being said.”

“Oh,” said Boldshin. “I meant only that you are a wizard. Or at least, you appear to be one.”

“I am one,” Glammerscale replied quickly. “Surely you remember me well enough to know that I am not the sort if dwarf to feign accomplishments I have not earned, nor claim abilities I do not possess. I do not claim to be a wizard merely because my name sounds right. And before you ask, no, I will not cast a spell to prove the truth of my claim.”

“No, do not.” Mild panic laced Boldshin’s voice as he imagined magically conjured flames washing through the room, singeing every precious thing in it in the process.

The wizard dwarf smiled. “Then we are agreed on what not to do. I am glad. But what concerns me is quite the opposite.”

Boldshin was beginning to wonder if his cousin was deliberately trying to confuse him. “The opposite being …?”

“What to do.”

Now Boldshin understood. He gulped down a large mouthful of ale, wiped his whiskers on the sleeve of his night-gown, and resolved, as it was his house and he was the host, to take more control of the conversation. “First things first. Cousin, why are you here? Last I heard you were living in Pavona, apprenticed to a grey beard Tilean who was nevertheless younger than you by many years.”

“Until a mere month ago I was indeed in Pavona, but no longer an apprentice, as I thought we had already established. Until quite suddenly it became apparent that I, along with every other dwarf in the city, had outstayed my welcome.”

“Every dwarf?”

“All of us, even those of less eccentric bents, being of course every other dwarf in the city. My good servants and I left the very day of Duke Guidobaldo’s decree. Those who stayed to voice complaint followed only days later, though in a rather less comfortable fashion.”

This news was as unexpected as just about everything else since Boldshin had opened the door to his cousin. “Why?” he asked.

“It seemed the sensible thing to do. I knew the way the wind was blowing, so to speak, and to linger would be most foolish.”

“No,” said Boldshin, now convinced his cousin was deliberately walking one step to the left of the conversation. “I mean why have the dwarfs been cast out?”

Glammerscale laughed again. “It’s a good thing you are asking me, for I believe most Pavonan dwarfs would struggle to make sense of their banishment – those who tarried when we left were surely having difficulty getting their heads around it. You see, the duke is a religious man, becoming ever moreso in latter years, and his faith has manifested as a most jealous love his own god to the cost of all other gods, especially those not of the Tilean churches of men. There is no longer a place for Grungi, Grimnir or Valaya in Pavona, nor for those who pray to them. You must have heard the boast that not one stone in any Pavonan temple was carved by a dwarf. Well, it would seem that now they don’t want dwarfs even near their precious temples.”

This was not good. Boldshin was already reckoning up what was owed to him by several Pavonans, and what losses would be incurred if they decided to take their dislike of dwarfs a step further and renege on their debts.

Glammerscale apparently failed to notice his cousin’s distraction. “Pavonans have never been known for their fondness of strangers. I do not think I have ever seen an elf in the city, though many a dwarf would say that was no bad thing, and the only ogres I have witnessed there were brought to die in a fighting pit. I have seen Bretonnians mocked by ruffians in the street, as if their very presence somehow besmirched the architecture of so fashionable a city. Duchess Elisabetta prettified the city, and made it a place of learning too. That’s the very reason I went there. But the Pavonans grew arrogant with it, thinking themselves better than others. The plague of 87 turned that arrogance into suspicion, and although no-one ever blamed the dwarfs for it, I think the Duke now believes that our continued presence so weakens the strength and purity of their faith that the curse left by the plague could not be lifted. It is a city dedicated to Morr, and yet every night is haunted by restless souls. That contradiction has gnawed away at the Pavonans until now they act desperately, and cruelly, to amend their ways.”

That’s not so bad, thought Boldshin. If the Pavonans were looking to purify themselves, and put things right before their god, then leaving lawful debts unpaid would not be the way to go about it. Among various duties, Morrites were supposed to settle their debts before they left this life, or put in place a means to honour them, so that their souls were not in any way lured back by the concerns of the living world.

He realised Glammerscale was still speaking. “… so I shan’t stay long, I imagine. Just until I can settle the matter of my property and possessions, and find a place to continue my studies.”

“You’re staying?”

“In times like these I should think you would not want to remain so isolated. Let us hope the good people of Ridraffa don’t follow Pavona’s lead.”

Boldshin could not argue, not with his cousin. He was both stern and unforgiving when he had to be with debtors, but they were men, not dwarfs. Besides, his cousin was not only right, he had brought two servants. Being one of four dwarfs in times of trouble had to be better than being alone.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 05, 2013, 10:56:19 PM
Everything Astiano Has to Offer

The walled town of Astiano, upon the Via Aurelia, beside the River Remo

The Pavonans had been complaining about the tolls for some time, but the people of Astiano cared not a jot. It was their road, their stretch of river – they should be able to charge whatever they like for passage. Yes, it was the Pavonans best trade route to the north and west of Tilea, but the folk of Astiano could not help that. Just a matter iof geography. Besides, the Pavonans were no doubt still able to make a profit from their trade.

Now, however, the situation has taken a turn for the worse. The Pavonans had gone from angry words, complaints, petitions and paper battles to war. An army was approaching, with artillery and massed ranks of foot. It appeared very much like they were going to make a serious attempt at storming the walls. Which meant the people of Astiano had to make a serious attempt at defending their town.

The trouble was, there was not much time - certainly not time enough to hire more mercenaries. So it was that they mustered everything they had and reviewed it, marching out to drill before the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano1_zpsf945e527.jpg)

Two pieces of artillery were in working order, and powder and shot was found for both. The company of Condotta marksmen armed with handguns who had been guarding the gates were the only professional soldiers they had …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano5_zpsa62e7da9.jpg)

… apart from the condotta captain to whom the company belonged to. He would now command the entire garrison.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano2_zpse273f510.jpg)

Every caravan guard, bodyguard and bravi in the town was mustered into a regiment, proudly carrying the town’s colours.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano3_zps1e6b9b04.jpg)

While every other able bodied man was pressed into service, whether they were servants, peasants, or apprentices. A ramshackle lot they made, but surely able to defend a castle wall.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano4_zps1f59b1d6.jpg)


497 pts plus 2 cannons

Condotta Captain 54 points.


M4 WS5 BS5 S4 T4 W2 I5 A3 Ld8
Hand weapon, heavy armor (+2 points), additional hand weapon (+2 points)

12 Condotta Marksmen 9 points per = 133 pts

M4 WS3 BS3 S3 T3 W1 I3 A1 Ld7       
Equipment: hand weapon, light armor, handgun, full command

20 Bravi:  7 points per = 165 points

M4 WS4 BS3 S3 T3 W1 I4 A1 Ld7
Hand weapon, shields (+1 point), light armour (+1 point), full command

10 Brigands 7 points per = 70

M5 WS2 BS4 S3 T3 W1 I3 A1 Ld6
Equipment: hand weapon, short bow.

Special rules: skirmishers.

25 Peasants  3 points per = 75 points

M4 WS2 BS3 S3 T3 W1 I2 A1 Ld6   
Equipment: hand weapon.

2 Great Cannons = 220 points
As an Empire Great Cannon. May have up to two additional crewmen (+5 points per model).

---------------------------------------

The Assault on Astiano

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano6_zpse39f8573.jpg)

Captain Bramante employed his spy glass to scrutinise the foe as they approached over the open ground before the town’s northern walls. When he saw that the foe meant to assault with artillery and ladders alone, he ordered every company onto the walls, except for the small company of brigands – they were to wait behind the wall until he could decide which tower they could be best employed in.

(Scenario Rules in a nutshell: Wall, Tower and Gate damage as per 6th ed WFB rules. Ladder assaults only possible against walls, using a modified version of the 8th ed building rules giving the  defenders +1 to hit and the poor fellers hanging on the ladders -1 to hit. Game length 7 turns, victory decided upon how many wall and tower sections are held at the end of turn 7.)

As the Pavonan force, an army entirely liveried in blue and white, arrayed themselves in a neat line for the assault, one of the defending artillery sent a lucky shot smashing into one of their cannons. Refusing to allow this unlucky start to the fight to dismay them, the Pavonan crew of the second great cannon fired at the gate, smashing it open with their first shot – a sight which made them instantly forget what had just happened to their other cannon. (Rolling a six, even against a gate reinforced with iron, will do this) A cheer went through the lines and the entire army marched forwards, handgunners and bowmen included.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano8_zpsa17cee99.jpg)

Having shouted orders to send the short-bow armed brigands to the gate tower only moments before the gate was shattered, Captain Bramante now needed no spy glass to study the foe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano9_zps9a504927.jpg)

“Steady lads,” he shouted as the striped flag of Astiano fluttered beside him. “Let’s see what else our own artillery and handguns can do to them before we worry about the broken gate.”

Several of the bravi nodded, deciding if they needed to descend to defend the gate then they would – it was still no easy thing for the enemy to burst through a defended tower. (Normal building rules would now apply to the gateless tower.)

But just then the foe delivered a second, equally unexpected and cruel blow, for they had a wizard in their midst who conjured a fireball and sent it washing over the wall to hit the bravi full on, singing all of them and killing eight. As a consequence even the captain joined them as they ran screaming (and smoking) from the parapet. (Note: Failed a double LD test – another assault scenario rule was that defenders on castle walls re-roll LD tests as if their Army Standard was nearby.[/i])

They did, however, rally once they were down on the ground, and the initial shock had worn off. “That’s it,” shouted the captain. “Looks like we will be defending the gate after all!”

Outside, every Pavonan could see the ruinous state of the gate …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano10_zpsc5a355e2.jpg)

… but only one regiment, a body of swordsmen led by several officers including one fully armoured nobleman mounted on horse, was headed directly towards it. The rest had their ladders and were approaching the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano11_zps7506436b.jpg)

Needless to say, perhaps, it was the swordsmen who now received a hail of arrows, roundshot and bullets. A good number fell, but they did not run.

Further from the walls, the Pavonans had dragged a volley gun up within range, the crew of which were now debating whether they should risk a shot or two in light of the fact that their bullets would very likely have very little effect against a foe sheltered behind stone walls, and every shot risked disaster for a gun as dangerously unstable as theirs.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano7_zpsace2d10e.jpg)

They took a vote, and decided two to one that they were here so they might as well join in. Thus followed four volleys in a row, until the barrels were glowing red and several component parts has shaken loose. Their efforts added considerable noise to the battle, a veritable thunder storm of blasts, but failed to harm the foe at all. The crew, however, were happy. They were not only alive, and their engine had proved itself reliable.

Now it was the turn of the mercenary handgunners to receive the wizard's attention. As they loaded their pieces, glancing nervously over the crenulations at the approaching regiments, they could indeed see him clearly – he was the only man not garbed in blue and white.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano12_zps652a54ab.jpg)

As they feared, he had a fireball for them too – five fell screaming from the parapet as the wooden bottles on their bandoliers exploded like grenadoes. The survivors, veterans of several years' service, were made of tougher stuff than the bravi, and went on loading, each vowing they would make the foe pay for the death of their comrades.

While the Pavonan attackers sent a storm of bullets and arrows bouncing off the stone walls, Captain Bramanti led his rallied bravi in good order towards the gate.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano13_zpsa26496e9.jpg)

Upon the other side, the mounted knight and his surviving swordsmen – another noblemen and the wizard amongst them too – had reached to gate and set about storming it immediately.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano14_zps579adf13.jpg)

Along the walls the Pavonan halberdiers had also reached the wall and as the assembled peasants, labourers and apprentices of the town hurled stones at them, began laying their assault ladders against the stone.


(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano15_zps31871691.jpg)

Now the real battle began. The nobleman at the gate, who was no other than Lord Polcario of Pavona, son of the ruling Duke, led his swordsmen between the splintered remnants and made mincemeat of the defending brigands. When they then burst through the inner gate …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano16_zps3cf7f27f.jpg)

… they were immediately met by the good captain and his colourful band of bravi

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano17_zps1eda9c9a.jpg)

Meanwhile, as the handgunners on the wall beside the gate fought to the very last man against the halberdiers below them …
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Astiano18_zps4c128311.jpg)

… elsewhere the town's defence crumbled. Captain Bramanti was cut down by the young Lord Polcario, after which his surviving bravi broke and fled down the main street of the town, rallying only long enough to look back at the walls and see that their cause was lost. The peasants were driven (almost easily) from the walls. They too rallied, and waving pitchforks and scythes in the air, foolishly launched a charge against the inside of the walls, no defended by halberdiers. The Pavonans were laughing as they struck deadly blows with their halberds and chased the peasants away for good.

The walls and gates were taken. The defenders were running for the other gates, not even stopping to loot on their way.

Astiano had fallen.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 08, 2013, 10:42:26 PM
The Chancellors

Spring IC2401
Just across the bridge from the southern gate of Scorccio.

There was sufficient breeze to whip the flag in a lively fashion, revealing the white rod and yellow half-sun emblem of the Compagnia del Sole. Its bearer was the black-bearded Banhaltte, a sturdily built ensign born far to the north in the Empire, who had served the company just as long as any other present member. Like most ensigns, it was not just the flag that marked him out, but also his elaborate clothes. His helmet was ringed with an upstanding crown of yellow and white ostrich feathers, his parti-coloured breeches slit in the shape of the company’s emblem, trimmed with braid, and his wide beard was of a northern fashion.

Ahead of him rode two of the company’s chancellors, Ottaviano and Baccio. They too wore the company’s colours of burgundy and blue, the company's emblem embroidered upon their left shoulders. Ottaviano was upon a grey rouncey, his companion on a black.  Earlier they had been busy preparing for the trip, then conversing with the guards on the gate regarding their right to pass. Now that they were properly on their way, Baccio picked up a conversation they had begun the night before. “How about Urbimo?” he asked. “Would they hire us?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Chancellors1_zpsd99dc7af.jpg)

Ottaviano rode with his arm crooked, hand on hip, one of several affectations he believed made him appear more gentlemanly. “Urbimo is prosperous enough to afford the whole company, I’ll grant you that, but its old enemy Trantio has laid aside all ambitions to re-conquer it. The Trantians went to war over the matter in the time of the Republic, and as the tyrant Prince Girenzo hates everything the Republic did, not least its rebellion against his family’s rule, he is unlikely to want to continue the policy over Urbimo. Besides, if there was still enmity between the two, it would be very bad form for us to leave our current employer and join immediately with his enemy.”

“We’re mercenaries. What do we care what Prince Girenzo thinks when we’re no longer contracted to him?”

“I would not care at all,” Ottaviano said. “But who would later want to hire us knowing that we might so easily, simply for coin, join their foe and turn against them?”

“But you just said that Trantio and Urbimo are not at war.”

“That does not make them friends. Besides, the point I was trying to make is that if Urbimo is no longer threatened by Trantio then why would they need to hire a company the size of ours?”

The Compagnia del Sole was biggest condotta force in the whole Tilean Peninsula, and could claim an almost wholly unblemished reputation arising from the quality of their soldiers and the honour of their commanders. They had never before divided their strength to take separate contracts, except for the odd occasion when some amongst them had left the company to take employment as a new, distinct company. Currently they had halberdiers and pikemen, artillery and heavy horse, crossbowmen both mounted and upon foot, as well as a small town’s worth of dependents and hangers on, and they drilled every morning to maintain their readiness and prove their worth. For the last two years Prince Girenzo of Trantio had marched them about the Trantine Hills upon manoeuvres, even fought mock battles with them, and had found no fault. He paraded them through his city’s streets almost monthly and never once found any real reason to complain. Best of all, he had seemed happy so far to merely play at soldiers with them, requiring no actual fighting. Now however, as the eighth week before the end of the ‘Ferma’ period of their contract had passed without an agreement being reached concerning re-employment, the company was allowed to send forth its chancellors to negotiate with potential new employers. It was not that the company really wanted to leave Prince Girenzo’s employment, rather that they wanted to demonstrate the bids made by others to convince him to agree to better pay. Their commander, the condottiere general Micheletto Fortebraccio, believed that Girenzo had tired of drill and manoeuvres and was finally ready to make war, which bode well for the negotiation of new and better terms.

Baccio was not yet ready to yield on the matter of Urbimo. “Miragliano is close enough to pose a threat to Urbimo, surely? Is not every state in the north afeared concerning the Vampire Duke’s intentions?”

This made Ottaviano laugh. Baccio’s habit of not thinking things through was well ingrained. Still smiling, he looked his friend in the eye. “So you want to fight the already dead? You want to face deadly vampires and poison clawed ghouls and foul, stinking hordes of zombies?”

“Well … no,” admitted Baccio, apparently confused by his friend’s merriment at the prospect. “But to be paid well would be good.”

To be paid well is everything, thought Ottaviano. “If Urbimo did not offer us better terms than Prince Girenzo, then we could not demand improved terms from him.”

“Surely they are willing to pay generously for us to defend them against the horrors in the north.”

“Not when they know the vampire duke cannot yet reach Urbimo, nor for some time. They’re clever merchants, who pay no unnecessary expenses. Supposing the Duke of Miragliano does sally forth, he must first get past Ebino and Viadaza. I have a doubt they will stand idly by as the walking dead shamble through their realm. And like I said, that’s supposing he leaves Miragliano. Who knows what a vampire wants? Perhaps he will simply sit where he is, ruling his bony court and drinking goblets of blood? ”

“He could cross the gulf,” suggested Baccio.

“I do not think the dead steer ships,” answered Ottaviano. Yet even as he said it, he felt a distinct lack of conviction.

“Dead sailors do!” Baccio spoke Ottaviano’s fears for him.

Ottaviano pondered a moment. Undead ships were not unheard of – there was once a whole fleet of zombie pirates who preyed upon visitors to the shores of Lustria.  Vampire named Harkon commanded them. “It’s much more likely the vampire duke has dead soldiers and peasants, not dead sailors. What sort of seamen would stay in Miragliano when all hell was breaking loose? Any sailor worth his salt would have got away, and quick.”

“I suppose,” Baccio muttered, grudgingly.

“Tell me,” asked Ottaviano, narrowing his eyes, “Why does Urbimo fascinate you so?”

“In truth?” said Baccio. “Because it is not far away.”

“Ha! So it is idleness that makes you keen!”

The jibe made Baccio frown. “Not so. It is simply an added expense for us to travel far, and if the journey takes too long then there is less time left to re-negotiate with Prince Girenzo. I was thinking of the practicalities.” Suddenly, he perked up. “If not Urbimo, then what about Lord Guglielmo? They say he escaped his uncle’s deathly turning and is looking to gather a force to claim what is now rightfully his. They say the Church of Morr will surely back him, make it another Holy War.”

Ottaviano laughed louder than before. Tilea had enough of Holy Wars – they had even tried a Holiest War. All such things proved ultimately to be the product of worldly ambition. It’s all about the pay “We’ll get no good terms from Lord Guglielmo. He has no means to pay us. No doubt he would promise us great rewards, to be paid after his victory, but tell that to Prince Girenzo and he would no doubt happily offer to pay us with even better promises. We want gold, not promises.”

“It was a stupid idea anyway,” Baccio admitted apologetically, “for it would mean we not only had to fight the undead but must also march right into their hellish domain.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Chancellors4_zps1e1d27d5.jpg)

The party was passing a thatched cottage, along the hedge lined road that led from the bridge. Behind Banhaltte the standard bearer marched the chancellors’ guard, four halberdiers - two sergeants in armour and two more lightly armoured rank and file soldiers. Bringing up the rear was the young servant Donno leading a mule laden with supplies for the journey. The general had offered more guards to accompany them, but Ottaviano did not see the need. Mercenaries looking for a new contract were hardly likely to be carrying much gold, and so were unlikely to attract the attention of robbers. Anyone else would think twice at the sight of their banner, rather than their number. Few would want to make an enemy of the Compagnia del Sole. They might be mercenaries but they looked after their own, and there was honour amongst them. The company had both the urge and the means to exact vengeance.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Chancellors3_zpsd266555e.jpg)

Baccio fell silent for a while. The flag fluttered, hooves clopped, harnesses jangled. Eventually he spoke again. “If we did gain an offer of terms in some far away place, and Prince Girenzo refuses to match them, then the whole company will be forced to slog it all the way there.”

“That might not be so bad at all, especially if we head southwards. Would you not rather fight greenskins than the undead? The southern cities and towns are looking to better their defences, no doubt, now that the Waagh had taken root in the lands around Monte Castello. Luccini is hiring Mamidous’ Sons of the Desert, even building barracks for them. Alcente has hired northerners to help them, or sold itself to them - no-one seems sure about the exact terms. Whatever the agreement, an army of Marienburgers guards them.”

Baccio snorted. “So, not much work for us then?”

“On the contrary, Baccio, once Raverno agrees upon a proper government, or some tyrant grabs the reigns for himself, then they can do something about opposing the Waagh. And who’s to say that Remas, Pavona, Raverno, Portomaggiore, even Luccini and Alcente, believe they have sufficient strength to counter the threat. In this worrying time any or all might offer us better terms compared to the Medizi prince.”

Braccio nodded whilst looking off into the distance, then turned to look at his comrade. “General Fortebraccio said it will be only a matter of weeks before Prince Girenzo marches us to war, and not against Miragliano or goblins. In truth, Ottavio - our mission, new contracts - are we trying to leave Trantio just as the real fighting starts?”

“Never think that,” commanded Ottaviano. “We are the Compagnia del Sole, Myrmidia’s free sons. We do not shirk battle, nor would we shun a chance for plunder. ‘Aut spoliis opimis aut mors gloriosa’. I suggest you look at the situation in either of two ways. If you want to feel noble, then you can believe we take employment fighting greenskins or the undead because we would rather kill those than fellow Tileans. Surely it is right and proper that Tileans should stand together against such threats, instead than squabbling amongst themselves? If, however, you want to feel clever, then tell yourself that we are looking for employment because that way Prince Girenzo is forced to offer us better terms. He will want to lose us just at the moment he needs us.”

It was Braccio’s turn to smile now. “I suppose the first way, the noble way, is something you have rehearsed ready for the ears of our prospective employers.”

“Ah, you know me well,” exclaimed Ottaviano. Was his friend finally waking up? “As you obviously doubt I be so nobly motivated, then you may as well hear my true thoughts upon the matter. If we are to serve the prince in war, then he can bloody well pay a good price for us. We do not sell ourselves cheaply. If instead we are to go south, then perchance it will mean nothing more than parading our strength for some southern lord so that the greenskins take fright and look elsewhere for their cruel sports. If it were for me to choose, I would say south, where our very presence in the field may be sufficient to break the foe’s resolve. The walking dead in the north have forgotten how to be afraid, they will never flee but instead come straight at us, no matter how strong we are. Our men would die, then worse still, rise again to fight us.”

Ottaviano wondered if the men behind could hear him. Glancing around he decided maybe Banhaltte could, but not the others. That was not so bad. Banhaltte was a veteran and had no doubt fathomed the depths of mercenary thinking a long time ago. Perhaps Braccio caught sight of the glance, and knew it for what it was, for he now spoke quietly. “So, let me get this right. You don’t want us to fight the undead, under any terms. What you do want is either better terms from Prince Girenzo to fight his neighbours, or adequate terms to go south and scare the greenskins away.”

“You have it. Except there might well be just be enough gold in the north to keep us here. The company have fought the undead before, and survived to tell the tale.”

“Oh, so in the end it is all about the pay?”

Ottaviano grinned broadly, and patted his purse hanging from his saddle pommel to make the coins chink. “Has it ever been anything else?”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 15, 2013, 07:41:37 AM
A Monstrous Assault

The man was nervous, and not just because he was addressing his master, Sir Fromony of Terme. He stared wide eyed from his scallop-edged, yellow hood and fidgeted constantly, clasping and unclasping the rim of the buckler hanging from his belt. He was armed, unusually, with a large-bladed adze, something Sir Fromony believed would be a very clumsy weapon, yet which would leave grievous wounds indeed upon its victims. Nor was his choice of weapon the only oddity about the man, for he also wore armour solely upon his knees and his elbows, as if his joints were the most precious parts of his body and as such warranted extra protection. How Sir Fromony had not noticed such an unusual sort of fellow amongst his lesser servants before he could not say.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Terme1_zps1e16504a.jpg)

These thoughts distracted the old knight just enough that he failed momentarily to hear what the man said.

“You saw how many of them?” he asked.

“In truth, your honour, I thought at first it was just one of them, come up from the south like they do. A bodyguard for a merchant or some such – your honour will know how the south is riddled with all sorts of hired thugs. And I freely admit I almost left then and there, your honour, but I decided I ought to see who or what the brute was guarding, so that I might give a better report to the sergeant …”

Sir Fromony was starting to get annoyed, something a more observant man than this peasant soldier would have quickly noticed. He looked down sternly from his green barded horse, his forked white beard framing his frowning mouth, whilst behind him Mainet his squire rolled his eyes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Terme2_zpsc22a596f.jpg)

“Answer the question will you?” he barked, so halting the man’s rambling account. “How many?”

“Yes, your honour. Sorry, your honour. The one I saw was but one of a half a dozen.”

That did not sound too bad. “Only a half a dozen?”

“No, your honour,” said the man shaking his head, “if I might be so bold. That half a dozen was but one of several such companies. I couldn’t stay to count them all, for they was all strung out along the road, see, and there were goblins with them, sneaky looking gits they were with eyes dancing every which way.”

“You were seen?” asked the knight.

“Oh no, not I, your honour. I was in the shadows, and gone before any beady little eyes could alight on me. All the better to come back with a report see”

“Is this all you can tell us, or did you see anything else? Flags? Men? Baggage or machines?” He hefted his mace as if to point at the peasant. “Be precise.” If such is possible!

Screwing up his eyes (perhaps imagining what such a mace might do to his skull) the peasant made an answer. “Their banners were raggedy things, clattering bones and such, not furled but not exactly fluttering either. The one at the front had a red and yellow flag as well as all the grisly bits. There was beasts, aye, and big ‘uns at that. I saw one very clear. Like a giant cow it was, funny sort of horns though, with the thickest sort of skin I ever seen, and dragging a mess of wood and iron with goblins clambering upon it.”

“The flag,” asked Sir Fromony, “Gules two bars-gemel, Or?”

“Gule-gemmy or what, your honour?”

Fromony felt foolish for speaking that way to a peasant, although compared to the worry now knotting his stomach concerning this enemy force, this new emotion paled into insignificance. He tried again. “A red field, two pairs of yellow stripes?”

“Can’t say for certain, for the breeze wasn’t up to much, but red with yellow stripes seems just right for what I did see.”

Campogrotta – it has to be. It seemed that the recently (and most mysteriously) returned wizard lord Nicolo Bentiglovio did not intend to live out the remainder of his unusually long life in peace, and he still had his regiment of brutes, the army of Ogres which had long brought shame to his rule. For many decades – beyond the span of an ordinary mortal - the wizard lord had seemed satisfied with the cruel, tyrannical rule of Campogrotta, jealously guarding his secrets. Today, however, he marched upon the fortress of Terme.

Sir Fromony knew his day’s hunt was over.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Terme3_zps23c67647.jpg)

Now, if he did not move fast, he would become the prey. He had a castle to defend and, if that was to happen, he must send word to Duke Giacomo and hope relief was dispatched without delay. Turning to his hunt companions he gave his instructions, starting with his knightly guard.

“Sir Eudes, ride with all haste to Ravola and tell the Duke of our need. We shall of course hold as best we can, but to an Ogre our walls are half the height and so do not present quite the same challenge.”

Sir Eudes nodded his assent, pulled upon his reigns to turn his horse about, then spurred the beast into a gallop. Luckily he was not armed and armoured as for battle, but wore only mail and a half helm, and carried only a hunting spear. Provided the enemy did not hinder him, he would make it to Ravola before dark.

Sir Fromony turned next to his crossbowman. “Landri, you will go and look at this foe and discover their true strength.” Gesturing at the yellow hooded peasant he added, “Take this man with you if you wish, he seems to know the lie of the land well enough to have stayed hidden.”

Last he addressed his squire. “Mainet, with me.”

The party divided. As Sir Fromony rode he could not stop the flood of concerns and regrets assailing him – the ditch which should have been cleared, the wall that needed strengthening, the incomplete hoarding clinging to the western parapets, and most of all the recent departure of a band of knights for Bretonnia. He could have done with them now, to stiffen his garrison.

Yet the castle could surely hold for a little while, hopefully long enough for relief to come.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 18, 2013, 11:23:50 PM
Chivalry

The castellan of Terme Castle, Sir Fromony Dalguinnac had arrayed his limited force as best he could. All he had to defend the fortress were longbowmen and men at arms – mere peasants bolstered with only a handful of yeomen – and they were not even sufficiently numerous to man every wall and tower. It took some careful thought as to where to place each of his three companies so that they could move quickly enough to wherever they were needed. His men at arms, which he personally commanded, guarded the gate, while his archers flanked him, one company on a wall to the left, the other on the tower to the right.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle1_zpsb80d9a55.jpg)

Although they were twice as tall as a man, Sir Fromony was pretty certain that the Ogrish foe would not be able to scale the towers, so the archers to his right were instructed to move to the defence of the wall beside them if the foe made for it. This disposition still left stretches of undefended walls, but the enemy were surely not so numerous as to be able to attack all at once, and all he and his men had to do was buy time for he had sent for relief and knew full well that his master, Lord Giacomo Uberti, would not abandon Terme Castle to its fate.

As the red and yellow standard of Ravola was placed upon the battlement beside him, Sir Fromony peered over the crenulated parapet at the foe mustering upon the rocky ground before the walls. He wore his heavy armour of polished steel, and atop his helm sprouted a red fleur de lys crest, a twist of yellow braiding decorating its base.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle2_zps56526172.jpg)

He could see that two large companies of grey fleshed brutes made up the main strength, their grisly banners of bones, skins and the looted shields of old foes held at their fore. Upon one flank a shaggy beast dragged some sort of trebuchet, whilst upon the other was a company carrying cannon barrels – no carriages, no trucks, just the barrels. These brutes were strong enough to discharge cannons as if they were handguns! They were hauling plenty of ladders, suggesting that they intended to climb the walls rather than batter at them with shot and then assault them. And they were moving with haste, for at the very moment their companies were finally sorted into ranks and files a bellowing cry immediately signalled the advance and they came on.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle3_zps86139503.jpg)

If the relief did not come right now, Terme was surely doomed. No almost wholly peasant garrison could stand against such fearsome assailants, even protected by castle walls. Sir Fromony heard shouted commands to ‘loose’ from both his left and right, and volleys of arrows arced impressively from the walls. It was a sight which momentarily gave him hope – surely such a storm of sharpened steel would sting any foe? But to his horror, as the arrows landed, not one of the Ogres fell. Umpteen shafts could be seen, hanging from their chests, arms and shoulders, bouncing about as the ogres marched on, yet not one of the grey-skinned brutes seemed remotely perturbed.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle4_zpsb019592d.jpg)

The large contraption pulled by the hairy beast proved indeed to be a species of trebuchet, for suddenly a timber and iron arm swung up to hurl its own ragged cloud of missiles in the opposite direction. Sir Fromony wondered to himself why they were not throwing large rocks, and watched with mild confusion as the remarkably well placed shot resulted in a mere clattering against the castle gate. (Note: The Ogre player had forgotten that the scraplauncher – and there is a clue in the name – did not employ stones as ammunition but merely scrap iron. All he could recall as he gleefully watched the dice roll a direct hit on the gate was that the rules said it worked something like a stone thrower. Oh, how we laughed when we discovered the sad truth. :lol:)

Then came the joyful answer to Sir Fromony’s prayers – the sweet sound of horn blasts, followed quickly by the thunderous beat of heavy hooves. The relief had come, and not a moment too soon! (Note: a 3+ chance from the second turn onwards for the relief to arrive, as per ambush rules.) Two large bodies of gorgeously bedecked knights came hurtling through the morning mists like heroes from some legendary tale of knightly courage (and immaculate timing).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle5_zps11552c1c.jpg)

And just as they arrived, a cannon-carrying ogre did succumb to a second volley of arrows from the walls. These two events meant men of the garrison had every reason to cheer, and cheer they did. Their joy, however, was suddenly cut short as the ogres, showing remarkable alacrity for such hulking creatures, charged at the walls. It became obvious they knew full well the danger they were in, what with lance-armed knights to their rear, and that with this in mind they intended to gain the sanctuary of the walls before the knights could prick at them. For Sir Fromony, the thought that the foe might be acting out of fear, failed entirely to reassure him. All it meant was that they redoubled their pace. One company reached the walls with terrifying speed, laid their ladders promptly and began their climb …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle6_zps1c8d45be.jpg)

… while the cannon-wielding ogres spun about to point their cruel muzzles at the Knights Errant among the advancing chivalry.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle7_zps2492b793.jpg)

The Slaughtermaster with them conjured up a bonecrushing spell to kill two of the Knights Errant, then conjured up further magic to enfold him and his unit in magical protection. The cannons now blasted and felled another knight, whilst a load of scrap clattered off the young knights’ armour. Meanwhile, up at the wall the Ogres climbed quickly and surely, ripping a yeoman warder right off the wall to send him tumbling horribly to his death, the sight of this, along with the death of several more archers, sapped all courage from the defenders who leaped down into the courtyard leaving the Ogres to clamber over onto the parapet. While several ogres jeered and laughed at the running archers, the rest calmly turned to see if the knights had caught up with their comrades, as if taking the wall had been little more than a walk up a hill.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle8_zps1bb4bc54.jpg)

The knights of the relief force could see that the foe’s trebuchet pulling beast was threatening to charge. Unwilling to be so distracted, the Knights of the Realm charged across the Knight’s Errant's front to slam into the cannon-wielding Ogres, hoping to burst through and gallop along the base of the walls and so reach the second company of brutes before they too took a wall.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle9_zps96cd840a.jpg)

In this they had some success, driving one of their lances right through an ogre in the first impact, then riding down the rest and they fled, even felling the Slaughtermaster himself. In a somewhat ungainly fashion their mounts made their way over the piled corpses and towards the wall. They could see the enemy up ahead, but could they reach them in time?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle10_zpse7c9faf5.jpg)

While the scraplaunching monster shuffled unsurely towards the Knights Errant (Note: A stunning failed charge roll of 2,1,1!) the footslogging ogres wasted no time themselves. Hurtling at, then up, the walls, they hacked down several foes and sent the rest, Sir Fromony amongst them, fleeing into the courtyard.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle11_zps2f3c17ae.jpg)

Outside the chivalry was dismayed. They had come, by mere moments, too late. The Ogres were up and over the walls, and the screams from within the castle, as well as the peasants tumbling from the walls to thud into the rocky ground beneath, made it very clear that Terme had fallen. The knights had no ladders, and the ogres were laughing as they drew up their own to leave none outside. The gate was locked and barred, and showed no signs of opening.

Frustrated, the Knights Errant threw themselves at the only foe they could, chasing the Ogres chariot-cum-stonethrower across the field to watch it smash itself to pieces trying to cross a hedge (Note: 1 on dangerous terrain, 6 for wounds.) Inside the castle two bruisers leaped from the wall, leaving the other ogres in possession, and charged across the courtyard to make mincemeat of the momentarily rallied archers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle12_zpsa75b0713.jpg)

(Note: Interestingly you can compare the rather contrasting painting styles of my friend and myself, as he borrowed a figure from my own collection to serve as his army standard. Mine = cartoon, cell shaded. His = realistic and subtle. You know, my figures never seem to fit in with anyone else’s collection!)

The castle was all but taken, and all that remained was the butchering or capture of the last of the garrison, an activity the ogres took grisly pleasure in. What became of Sir Fromony nobody knows, but most would say it is not hard to guess.

Meanwhile the Ogres’ commander, the fearsome tyrant Razger Boulderguts, was not happy. He had come to fight, something which he did not feel he had done. Outside the knights were galloping up and down, apparently unsure as to what they should do next.

“Come out,” cried one of them. “Come out and fight!” Others now joined in, adding mockery to the suggestion, “You came here to hide did you?” one shouted. “See how the Ogres run?” jeered another.

Then one of them, a paladin bedecked in a surcoat and barding of red-bordered blue, bearing a white griffon rampant upon his shield and a drake’s head crest to his helm, ordered silence. This gained, he now shouted, “I challenge any one of you to single combat. Come out, if you dare, if you any semblance of honour. Come out and face me one on one!”

Boulderguts, not an Ogre ever to suffer doubt, laughed. His god had answered his prayer – here was his chance to sate his bloodlust. He ordered the gate opened and strode boldly out before it, hefting a rusty and blooded blade bigger than a man in one hand, and an ironbound war-mallet heavier than a man in the other.

“You!” he bawled. “You want to fight? Then fight!”

With a roar he launched into a run, whilst the paladin spurred his destrier to charge. (Note: We agreed that both would count as charging.)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TermeBattle13_zps4e526651.jpg)

When they met there was a mighty crunch as Bouldergut’s gut-plate horns thrust through mail and deep into horse flesh. The ogre tyrant’s armour glittered magically as the knight’s frantic blows simply glanced off it. Then, after pausing for a moment as if to consider which weapon to favour, Bouldergut swung with his huge blade and sliced right through both the horse’s head and the paladin.

As the ogre tyrant let loose a bellowing victory roar, the knights, knowing that single combat had been offered and accepted, decided to combine honour and common sense and ride back to Ravola.

They had some bad news to deliver.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 21, 2013, 04:14:08 PM
General Report: End of Season 1 (Spring 2401)

Things are stirring in Tilea, though perhaps not quite what people expected. In the far north, contrary to the fearful concerns of many, Miragliano’s vampire duke has been quiet. No shambling legions have yet spilled forth to spread the waking nightmare of undeath. Yet the fear has not lessened, for few had supposed that the living dead would move quickly. Surely the evil duke is even now strengthening his cold grip upon his realm, weeding out the living wherever they hide, then killing them in order to create more servants.

The vampire duke’s nephew, Guglielmo Sforta, fled Udolpho and successfully made his way to Viadazza, though it is said he has little strength with him – certainly no army. One might say he is merely a pretender to his uncle’s title, but many claim, including the Church of Morr, that as Duke Allesandro is technically dead then the honour has indeed already legally and fully passed on to Guglielmo as his heir. Gulielmo has been made welcome in Viadazza, feasting with the city’s greatest as an honoured guest of Lord Adolpho, where he presses all who would hear his petition to aid him in cleansing Miragliano. Indeed, Lord Adolpho is amassing his not insignificant fleet, doing so surely in light of the very real threat Miragliano presents – though whether he intends to take the war to the foe by sailing into Miragliano’s harbour is another matter altogether.

And so it is that Archlector Calictus II of the Holy Church of Morr has made the following proclamation, to be read throughout Tilea:

Quote
Good people of Tilea, faithful servants of Morr and all the lawful gods, heed me for I speak with the voice of Morr to deliver dire warnings. Dark days have come, as a power most vile and most evil threatens every man, woman and child in our lands. We know greenskins raid in the south. We know that the foul ratto uomo scuttle beneath us sowing their poisonous corruptions. Yet these threats pale into insignificance compared to the wickedness in the north. For there, in Miragliano, an evil has arisen which is beyond mere sinfulness, beyond violence and hate, but is a triple heresy - for it is an insult to most holy Morr, an insult to his holy Church, and an insult to his people; it is a wickedness in direct opposition to Morr’s will, a usurping of the church’s rightful jurisdictions, and a terror to all in Tilea. Hundreds, thousands, of souls belonging to Morr have been twisted and tortured to become trapped in this realm, then made to kill the living so that even more souls might be reaped. If this wickedness is allowed free reign then all that is good will be destroyed; all that is ours, even our very souls, will be taken from us. Now is the time for the rulers of Tilea to accept their duty and so do what is noble, just and lawful, as well as entirely necessary. All those who can bear arms must march forth to cleanse the north of corruption. Let no prince be so unworthy as to shirk this duty. Let no council be so bickerous as to fail to act. Let no condottieri be so cowardly as to seek employment elsewhere. Let all our prayers be to Morr, for it is he who must guide us and bless us in our endeavours. Let our cry be ‘northwards’, for it is there that the fate of all those now living in Tilea will be decided!

Yet, as has been said already, the undead have so far been quiet. Rather, it is from the lands east of Miragliano that news comes of war. The great castle at Terme, guarding the road north to Ravola and the Nuvolonc Pass, has been taken and burned. Corpses have floated down the River Iseo to become caught on the footings of the bridge at Ebino, and the sky above Usola has become blackened by smoke. This was the work of an army of Ogres led by a brute called Boulderguts, brought over the mountains by the returning wizard Lord Nicolo of Campogrotta. They have looted the castle of everything of worth, enslaved what few of the inhabitants they did not kill, and have now marched northwards. Whether Duke Giacomo of Ravola can make a stand against this threat is yet to be seen. Some say that Lord Totto of the Arrabiatti Brotherhood must be laughing to see the fate of Giacomo’s Bretonnian knights, while others say he cries for the poor serfs killed by their masters’ sides. Many disagree, however, saying that a man who isn’t real cannot laugh at anything. What the dwarfs of Karak Borgo think of these events none can say, for none seem willing to risk taking the Iron Road through Campogrotta now that the Wizard Lord Niccolo’s tyranny has resumed.

But it is not just outsiders who stir trouble in the land. Lord Polcario, son of Duke Guidobaldi, has captured the town of Astiano in a bold attack. The Astianans had provoked Pavona’s wrath by tolling all mercantile goods upon both the road and the river. Perhaps they believed that with the Greenskin Waagh in the south the Pavonans would not dare to strike back at them. Not so. A blue and white army cut their way through the town’s gate in a lightning assault and so took Astiano with barely a loss of their own. The realm of Pavona is thus grown – stretching westwards along the river Remo. Furthermore, Duke Guidobaldi seems to have believed that the dwarfen moneylenders of Pavona had a hand in encouraging Astiano’s greedy boldness, and as a consequence he has banished all dwarfs from his realm, conveniently decreeing their goods forfeit.

There have been sightings of a force of greenskins upon the hilly coast of Caretello. At first it was feared that another Waagh had landed, and that the southern city states would be attacked from both flanks, but it transpired that these were Sea Boss Scarback’s Green Corsairs, an infamous company of rovers who have served as part of several Sartosan fleets, and once as hired as mercenaries by Viadazza. Few claim to know what their purpose is, though it is commonly presumed that they are looking for employment – and if not that, then they will simply take what they need. They are not the only company making enquiries, for the Compagnia del Sole’s contract to Trantio is drawing to a close. It may well be renewed (the negotiations are ongoing), but if not, then this most famous company – a veritable army in itself – could find itself serving a new master. Duchess Maria Colleoni of Ebino, faced with a vampire lord to her west and a rampaging army of Ogres to her east, is said to be reckoning up every scrap of gold and silver, even the copper pennies, in her treasury, praying she has enough to hire such a force.

In the far south warlord Khurnag’s Waagh remains concentrated upon the western coast of the Bay of Wrecks, and especially around Monte Castello. Nothing has been heard of Lord Roberto’s garrison there for nearly a month now, and no ships have returned from the castle. Those sailors who have risked approaching the mouth of the bay report that the greenskin fleet is grown much stronger, and that fires are burning all around Monte Castello, as well as in the hills stretching to the south. Drums can be heard beating, horns blaring, both all the louder in the hours of darkness.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on September 07, 2013, 01:32:19 PM
So, as an interlude to Padre's excellent work here is some background to my army for the campaign, there may be a familiar feel to some who played in some Animosity campaigns, but this is new and revised for Padre's campaign.

Quote
Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie – United Marienburg Company.

 

The Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie, or VMC, is a company that has recently been chartered by the Ten of Marienburg and in that charter given far ranging powers. It is an amalgam of several smaller companies, run by various trading houses of Marienburg that have operated for years with mixed fortunes.

The difference is however the size and scope of the company, all of the great merchant houses of Marienburg are invested in the company, and as such it has been able to obtain unprecedented powers from the Directorate. The powers they have been granted include; the authorisation to wage war, make alliances and treatise, found settlements and even mint their own coinage as needed as well as many others that give them almost the status of a sovereign entity, under the aegis of Marienburg and the Directorate.

This has been done for a number of reasons, primarily to increase the profitability of the newly opened trade routes for spices to the far east and the new world, avoiding the all or nothing troubles of independent ventures.

In addition it also gives the company the power and authority to protect itself against pirates and also compete against other trading powers, being able to make use of the advantages their sheer size affords.

Its first few years of trading so far have been incredibly profitable and shares in the company are trading at a premium in the Exchange and so the company is expanding, east as far as Nippon and Cathay as well as west to the New World and wherever there is profit in trade of any sort to be had.

Now their shareholders include not only the powerful and rich houses of Marienburg but also it is rumoured the likes of the Graf of Middenheim and perhaps other Elector Counts of the Empire as well.

And so, the VMC has ships sailing on every sea and calling at every port, and is even now in the process of establishing havens and way stations along some of the longer routes.

 
The Company in Tilea.

In the year 2401IC the Company finds itself engaged in the South of Tilea along with a number of other factions. Their interest in Tilea is, like anything, purely mercantile in nature. If there is profit to be won for the company’s shareholders then the company is interested. Specifically in Tilea the lucrative trade in olive oil and wine not to mention access to the trade with the great Dwarven sea hold of Barak Vaar.

Their headquarters and home port for this is the town of Alcante, where the Pirates Current runs into the Black Gulf, putting them in a prime strategic position to advance their cause.

For their part the council of Alicante have sought an alternative to the ever unreliable condottiere for their defence against the rumoured “Waagh” and instead turned to the VMC as a hope to boost both their defence, and their trading in this time.

General in Chief

Jan Valckenburgh is a tall, thin faced man with a serious expression but a relaxed demeanour. He is very much a man of Marienberg, both in fashion and outlook which can sometimes put him at odds with the burgers of Tilea.

Despite his serious expression Jan Valckenburgh is quite a calm and passive commander, often preferring to take up defensive positions and allow the enemy to come to him but he is an able army administrator and the political instincts to get himself appointed this command.

Technically his rank is that of “Associate Director of the Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie, Tilea”. In practice however he is the Lord General of the VMC mercenaries in Alcante and Tilea.

Unusually for a commander he has also brought his wife, Dina, and her household with him to Tilea, perhaps because they are only recently married, but perhaps also because she is from a rich family and so he seeks to protect his claim on her family fortune. Now his wife and household live in the grandest villa in Alcante, benefitting from grand ocean views and cool sea breezes.

 
VMC Muster List in Alcante, IC2401 –Lord General’s Banner

Jan Valckenburgh

General of the VMC, he is a competent commander and is typically found mounted amongst the heavily armed and armoured cuirassiers ready to deliver a massive blow to the enemy forces.

For his comfort he has travelled to Tilea with his wife and household who are now resident in the best Villa’s Alcante has to offer.

Pieter Schout
Well educated and able to function in Tilean court society as well as speaking several languages made Pieter the prime choice as Lord General Valckenburgh’s ambassador in Tilea. Typically he is escorted by a small squadron of Pistoleers

Johannes Deeter
Johannes was an eminent and educated scholar originally hailing from the Sigmarite Empire before falling out of favour there and making his way south through the Border Princes before arriving in Alcante by ship.

In Alcante he intended to conduct experiments in harnessing the power of the sun on Tilea’s south coast but lacked funds to do so.

He has sold his services to the VMC in exchange for their funding of his experiments, for which they will naturally take a share of any profits that might be made.

Serafina Rosa – apprentice to Johannes Deeter

Serafina is a rare thing, a female wizard. Not only that she is independently wealthy, strong minded and tempestuous.

Her wealth and independence bought her apprenticeship with Johannes and now she serves on the battlefield with the VMC.

Luccia la Fanciulla
Born from a minor family of Tilean nobles, Luccia is a young woman of rare and breath taking beauty, who might have won her family a  great match with some Tilean prince had the fortunes of war not taken a hand.

For when she was in the first flowering of womanhood Luccia hear the calling of the goddess Myrmiddia to take up the sword and standard and to be a leader of armies.

Whether by divine guidance, or through some strategic understanding Luccia has now allied herself and the local church of Myrmiddia to the forces of the VMC and she now stands in the forefront of their Tercico clad in harness, sword in one hand and holy standard in the other.

Marinus van Kempen
A bright young officer of the company, he is entrusted with the carrying of the company colours.

Despite the VMC being a mercantile force first and a military force second they still place a great deal of pride and prestige in their army colours, seeing it as an extension of all their other activities.

As such there is much responsibility on the young ensign not only to defend the colours in the heat of battle, but also to compose himself as the model gentleman off the field.

Captain Singel
Brought to Tilea from Marienberg he is an experienced artillery commander, having been a master gunner on board a number of VMC Men-o-War as well as battery commander in the infamous Fort Solace on the Wastelands coast protecting the sea lanes into the great port itself.

Now he is to be the Master of Works for the VMC in Tilea and hopes to procure some of the great bombards in the company arsenal.

Colour Guards

The foot guards are an almost ever present body of troops wherever the general goes, away from the battlefield the accompany him in small groups but on the battlefield they can all be found together with the general and his colours.

They are handpicked swordsmen, experts in the sword and round shield style of fighting common in Estalia (and in truth across the Old World), relying on speed and skill to overcome their foe rather than heavy armour and weapons.

Colonel Van Hal’s Tercio – The Meagre Company

Colonel Van Hal himself is a seasoned battlefield commander having served the company as a commander in a number of places, most lately Estalia where he learned the use of the Tercio on the battlefield and now looks to put it into practice himself in Tilea.

The Meagre Company is the backbone of the VMC forces in Tilea and is mainly made up of recruits from Marienberg itself, but with a few foreigners in there too. Their name is a self-given one and refers to their lack of nobility although some will also say their lack of pay.

It is a combined name for a main phalanx of pike supported by two sleeves of shot.

The Firelock Company
Armed with lightweight, reliable hand guns with a cunning new mechanical firing mechanism, the firelock company can be called on to support an advance, post a night watch or guard the artillery train and munitions safely due to them not needing a match to fire their guns.

Captain van Luyden’s Company of Shot
A well drilled company of hand gunners recruited from within those soldiers already signed on to the VMC. Like the Tercio they are taken from the scum of the old word.
   
Captain Hidink’s Pistoleros Light Horse
Horsemen recruited from the low lying lands around Marienberg that herd oxen and cattle through the marshland, they are used to being a free ranging, lightly equipped but independent force usually used as the eyes and ears of the VMC forces

Captain Vinco’s Caribinieri Light Horse

These are locally recruited light horse, primarily armed with handguns and lightly armoured they are a proto-dragoon of sorts able to move quickly around the battlefield and provide heavy fire support where it is needed, or to quickly block and interdict an enemy’s line of attack.

Captain Wallenstein’s Cuirassiers Heavy Horse
A company of heavily armoured cavalry mainly recruited from the Sigmarite Empire    they rely on their armour to protect them and a brace of heavy horse pistols to deliver a devastating blow in combat as they charge.

They are quickly developing a reputation for being impetuous, devastating and utterly undisciplined in their sack of enemy baggage or captured towns.

Captain Singel’s Train of Artillery
A grand title for a small battery at present, their field artillery consisting of only a pair of sakers and an organ gun, but the Captain is hoping to acquire more pieces as time progresses and is in negotiations to obtain a massive siege bombard from the company’s arsenal in Marienberg itself

Bucanieri
Naval shore parties taken from the fighting crew of the VMC ships, they are typically a mix of nationalities that all have the trait of being vicious fighters, sea dogs and rabble. They are however excellent scouts, skirmishers and irregular fighters that can be called on to perform a number of dangerous tasks that they seem ably equipped for.
 
Southlands Native Levy
The Impi of the Greys is a contingent of warriors from the VMC’s station on the Southlands Cape. They are fierce warriors who rarely yield to the enemy and all are seasoned veterans of wars both at home and abroad.

Ogre Mercenaries
Ogbut the Dandy and his gang are a small group of ogres from the north who try to affect a style found in Imperials or at least humans and they try to be more civilised than their normal kind. This is of course an abject failure on their part. They remain however a savage assault force that the VMC can unleash onto enemy lines.

Baggage and Logistics


Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 07, 2013, 03:39:47 PM
Finally taking a moment to begin catching up on this thread.  Just finished reading the pieces on the Orcs in Tilea and how they got there, the piece on dwarf banker and his wizard cousin, and the one with the downed gates of Astiano.  Great stuff!  :::cheers:::

Evidently I got four more story bits from Padre, plus Uryens addition, to still read as well.  Looks like more pleasant reading in front of me! :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 08, 2013, 12:53:59 PM
I like how the "Its about the pay" story covers the overall political situation of the time. :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: WallyTWest on September 12, 2013, 09:10:00 PM
I get back and this is one of the first things I see on the site...

It's like coming home... Marvelous Padre.

 :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 12, 2013, 09:48:31 PM
Thanks ever so much for your posts, GP and WallyT. This project is gonna be a long one, involving time and effort (all fun), and although it could be sustained by the players alone, I myself am much encouraged if the readers here find some worth in what we are creating. I want this to work on every level, including as something that readers will enjoy following.

The players' orders for season two have just about all come in, and I am working even now on new stories. I very much hope to return to each of the non-player characters and groups and forces already written about. The more the campaign unfolds, the more the players' actions have effects, the easier and easier it will be for me to spin out the non-players' stories. A third battle has already been fought (yet to be reported) and there's already another battle likely to happen very soon, one with some interesting scenario rules. From the way the players are manouevring, there should be many more to come afterwards.

I am also working on 10 merc knights (Perry plastics), 36 militia pikemen and 10 Tilean noble knights (out of production Foundry Miniatures) - all for non-player forces. And other stuff. I hope to post some WIP pics soon, like Mogsam's Luccini army project.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 13, 2013, 04:41:04 PM
Deliberations

Part One: Defence

The walled city of Ebino

“I cannot understand why Lord Guglielmo rode past us upon his flight. Have I offended him? Is Ebino of no worth? Or are we so clearly doomed that he dare not visit us, never mind ask us for help?”

The Duchess Maria had been nursing this grievance ever since she heard of Guglielmo’s passage. She was family: as the granddaughter of Duke Ludo Sforta she was Guglielmo’s first cousin. Her little city of Ebino was Miragliano’s neighbour, and for years enjoyed not unfriendly relations. Lord Guglielmo had met the Duchess upon several occasions, fostering a familiarity she had thought genuine. Yet he had fled from his vampiric uncle’s terrible new rule not to Ebino and her, but to Viadaza and Lord Adolpho, a beast of a man with orc in his blood.

No-one answered her immediately, which did not bode well. The dwarfs, both Captain Urginbrow of her Ironsides and her chief engineer Welleg, simply stared, as if the matter were so outwith their ken that an answer could not be expected of them. Captain Urginbrow was dressed as always in plate amour, his beard concealing the breastplate even down to his tassets. He wore no helm, but his bald pate seemed perfectly formed for such, as if it were crafted for a helm rather than the other way around. Welleg was hooded in grey cloth and bore a huge, iron headed mallet that he obviously had not thought to lay down before attending the council. His fur-lined, green jerkin was decorated sparsely with iron studs, making him appear as if he had been lightly peppered with leadshot. He had the sort of bulbous nose many dwarfs were gifted with, and the flatness of the rest of his face was accentuated rather than diminished by a protruding bottom lip caused by his underbite. All in all, not the sort of face that promised wit and wisdom, yet he was rightly renowned for his skill with engines of war.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Deliberation5_zpsdaaa785e.jpg)

Both men in the chamber were similarly silent. Her mercenary commander, Captain Sir Giorgio, wore a furrowed brow as if wrestling with mental turmoil, while the Morrite priest Father Remiro was apparently engaged in silent prayer. Perhaps he was seeking enlightenment?

“Well,” asked the Duchess, “why did he not come?”

Sir Giorgio cleared his throat, “We have sent a messenger to Viadaza to enquire of him what he intends, your grace, but as yet have received no answer.”

“I know about the message,” said the Duchess, a note of exasperation in her voice. “And I know that no word has come back. In lieu of that, I would like your thoughts upon the matter.”

She presented quite a contrast to the armed and armoured soldiers in the chamber, as well as to the priest in his dark grey woollen robes and plain cap of maroon cloth. Her light brown hair was fastened up fancily in the Reman fashion, with a band of tight curls to frame her brow and bunched ringlets upon either side. Her dress was of dark green silk damask, edged at her low cut neck line and sleeves with fine, white lace point. She wore gold at her neck, wrist and upon her breast.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Deliberation4_zpsb55120e8.jpg)

It was Father Remiro who ventured an opinion first, gesturing dramatically as he so often did – this time presenting his arms as if he were weighing the matter in the air before him. “Your grace, it may well be that Lord Guglielmo was not thinking clearly, neither acting sensibly nor in his best interests. To discover that one’s uncle and liege lord has become so evilly corrupted as to embrace undeath, and that he intends to massacre his own people and plunge his entire realm into an unliving nightmare, can be no easy thing. It would unhinge the best of minds, certainly those not prepared by their faith in Morr to stand up against such horrors.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Deliberation2_zps25792ef0.jpg)

The Duchess was not convinced. She had the measure of Lord Guglielmo and he had never given her reason to suspect he was weak. Quite the opposite – he appeared sure of his nobility and purpose, and very much a leader of men. “A man so afeared would run to the nearest safe haven, surely? If he did not come here, then perhaps he thinks Ebino is not safe? Perhaps he knows what his uncle intends next and travelled accordingly”

“I reckon it’s more likely his lordship couldn’t come here,” said the Ironside Captain Urginbrow. “If he was chased from Miragliano by dead and deadly things, then he would go whichever way he could to escape.”

Sir Giorgio was nodding. “We know the vampire duke’s foul servants came close, the tracks we found proved the peasants’ frightful reports were not false. Mounted men, or at least things that were once men. Perhaps they followed Lord Guglielmo then turned aside?” He pointed with his gauntleted hand at the large map laid upon the table.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Deliberation3_zps172b0bc4.jpg)

“They were seen here in the orchard by the mill at Rucai, not far at all from the road, and here where the road fords the Valgetty.”

“If they were pursuing him, then why would they turn aside?” said the Duchess. “Such creatures are not easily distracted from their purpose. If they were scouting my lands, then they were sent to do so.”

“Lord Guglielmo might have shaken them off with some trick, perhaps?” offered Sir Giorgio. “He may have led them along the road, giving the impression he was heading here, then cunningly snuck off southwards.”

“If that were so,” said the Duchess, “and his move towards us was merely a ruse, then it still leaves my question unanswered.”

The mood in the chamber was darkening, something the Duchess would not have thought possible concerning the peril they all faced. Perhaps her line of enquiry seemed desperate? Harping on about why Guglielmo had not come was hardly likely to lift her men’s spirits, and besides, as no answer was forthcoming, it served no real purpose. She looked down at the map, traced her finger along the line marking the road. “Well, it’s all by the by. He did not come. We must of course consider what we can do, what we should do, not what he did not do.”

Sir Giorgio obviously took this as permission to say something that had been on his mind. “By your leave, your grace, we could – considering how many good dwarfen folk dwell within our walls – we could send to Barak Borgo for aid.” He turned to address the two dwarfs directly, “Surely your brethren would be willing to help us against such a monstrous foe?”

To all but the engineer’s surprise, Captain Urginbrow issued a snort of laughter. “You are wrong, commander. They may be distant kin, but they owe us nothing, neither love nor even respect. They look upon us …” Here he stopped, turned to bow to the duchess, and said, “No offence to you, your grace, nor to the good folk of this city, for I speak the karak dwarf’s mind and not my own.” Then to Sir Giorgio, “… They look upon us as no better than men, and for no more reason than that we chose to live among you. They are proud to the point of folly, and they love only their own.”

“And, your grace,” said the priest, “Karak Borgo is many leagues from here. If they were to send help it would surely come too late.”

“Then you believe that the abomination will strike at us soon?” asked the Duchess.

“I fear so. That which he has become will still possess the living Duke’s memories, and will revel in corrupting all that was once his – including those he once held dear, even his kin.”

“If his outriders have tried to count us,” added the captain, “then he must at the least be considering it. If they succeeded in their count - and who is to say where they crept in the darkest hours of the night - he will know we are not strong.”

“But our defences, the moat, my ironsides and your mercenaries, every able bodied man we have practising drill – is this not strength?”

“Ebino has never been strong in comparison to Miragliano, and now that the duke has fashioned an army from hell, summoning long dead soldiers, it has become terrifying also. We can do all that we can to prepare, but we cannot stop men fearing the walking dead. How did you put it, captain Urginbrow: ‘dead and deadly things’.”

The duchess untangled her delicately entwined fingers and placed her hands on her hips. “I shall stand with my brave soldiers, and if needs be I shall perish in the defence of mine own.”

The men looked aghast, Father Remiro almost tripping over his words to discourage her. “Your grace, there is no need for you to put yourself in danger. You have your soldiers to do that. If you were to die here, and your daughter also, then that would be another victory for the foe. If you survive there is hope for the future, for Tilea must surely come to its senses, heed our holy church’s call to arms and cleanse Miragliano. Not the mountain dwarfs, but the faithful of Tilea. ”

Captain Giorgio was keen to add his own discouragement. “Your men will fight better knowing that you are safe, that you have gone for help. To face such horrors when their own noble mistress is in dire peril could only dishearten them. They would surely rather know that you are gathering allies to come to their aid.”

The duchess was apparently not convinced. “Our walls are strong, and we have the Ironsides to stand immovable upon them, two full companies of crossbowmen to shoot from them, and more militia besides. Every wall has been blessed by the priests and brothers of Morr, with charms and wards to fend off evil magics. The moat is deep and our storehouses full to brimming with supplies, carefully gathered and rationed. And the shadow lord Totto of the Arrabiatti promised to come in our hour of need. If Guglielmo receives our plea, then he too must send help. What could he be doing in Viadazza but raising an army?”

“I believe we can hold Ebino for some time, but not indefinitely,” said Captain Giorgio. “The enemy will not flinch from our quarrels as mortal men would do. Their fallen will lie in heaps even as those still standing calmly fill the moat with faggots and the truly dead to fashion a crossing, then raise their ladders beneath torrents of boiling oil without feeling the burning pain. Oh they will burn, oil will do that, but they won’t let it distract them, and will labour until they fall into pieces. And those who do fall may well be raised again. We can indeed hold for some time while they busy themselves fearlessly and steadily to overcome our walls. Such brave defence, however, would be wasted unless a sufficiently strong and timely relief force came to drive the foe away.”

“So you would have me run from Ebino during its greatest trial?”

“Yes your grace,” admitted the Sir Giorgio. “But only because I would have you bring succour to Ebino during its greatest trial.”

“We have sent word to Guglielmo, promised pardons to the Arrabiatti, and the church has preached on our behalf, these will bring succour.”

Captain Urginbrow harrumphed, and all turned to look at him. “Guglielmo passed us by, the Arrabiatti are like the mist that hides a thief not the steel that arms a soldier, and the church can only preach – people have to listen, then believe, then decide, then act. You, your grace, can promise rewards. You can shame the princes into doing what they know they should. You, your grace, will be Ebino standing there right ‘afore them. They can hardly ignore us then.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Deliberation1_zps175f7577.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 22, 2013, 08:54:20 PM
Brute Strength

There was precious little time to prepare - certainly not enough to send a plea through the pass for help from the north. Those knights who had ridden south to Terme Castle’s aid had arrived only to see the brutish foe clamber over the walls and drag their ladders up behind them. After then witnessing the death in single combat of the brave paladin Sir Theulenor, they were left stuck outside the castle, unable to help as the awful slaughter began within. Now they had returned to the city of Ravola, and although the foe (busy with looting) was not exactly hot on their heels, it seemed obvious to all that they would come, and soon. The horribly successful surprise attack on the southern fortress would be wasted if they did not march on to catch the city just as ill-prepared. Even Ogres would know that.

So it was that Lord Giacomo ordered that all those who dwelt in the hovels and cottages outside the walls should hurry into the city for safety. They did so very willingly, until the land outside lay silent.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport1_zpsda3006f7.jpg)

The grey stone city walls were studded with towers built in a variety of styles, the result of many decades of piecemeal extensions and improvements. The gate was a little keep in itself, with a more massive tower to its west. Upon that bigger edifice was mounted the only working war machine currently in Ravola’s possession. It had been carried in pieces from a storehouse no-one had thought it would ever be removed from, and hastily re-built. The floor beneath was strengthened from below. Large chunks of masonry were hoisted up, while the last surviving man in the city to have seen it in action imparted what advice he could to the serfs who were to crew it. No-one, not even the most chivalrous of the knights, complained about its use, for the foe were vicious thugs, with not so much as a trace of honour, and fully deserved such a death. In truth, even the knights wished there were more such engines, and several workshops were ordered to begin fashioning copies with all haste.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport2_zpsd0ba31a3.jpg)

The new machines were not to be completed, however, as the ogres, evidently sated with their bloody ransacking of Terme, came thumping into view, their ironshod boots tearing up the ground as they advanced almost as quickly as any destrier. They were not numerous, but such hulking creatures did not need to be. Led by the tyrant Razger Boulderguts, two regiments marched through the abandoned hamlet to the south, their banners of bones and battle trophies clattering a veritable cacophony to accompany their fiendish bellowing.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport5_zps8c5f6dae.jpg)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport6_zpsf5f4dedb.jpg)


The order given my Lord Giacomo satisfied some and surprised the rest. He decided his realm’s knightly warriors should not man the walls, but would sally forth to meet the foe in the field. In his speech to his knights he asked them why own such fine mounts if not to use them in the fight? Why possess such horsemanship and skill in arms if not to employ them? And would not the Lady bless them all the more if instead of cowering behind the walls to let arrows and stones do the killing, they rode gallantly and chivalrously to face the foe in the field of battle? Last, he held aloft his lance and sung most lyrically of its virtues, describing how such a weapon, deftly and solidly placed by a man of courage and well-honed skills, could surely skewer even a beast twice the size of an ogre. This last remark with met with the loudest cheer, and every knight hefted his own lance to show their agreement.

And so, after dutifully praying to the Lady that she might bless them, three companies of knights rode through the gate and arrayed themselves in the shadow of the walls. Lord Giacomo, riding a horse barded in heavy black cloth, a large, purple panache adorning his helm and a heavy, and a scarlet cloak to mark him out, rode with five knights (the survivors of those who had fought against him all those years ago in the tourney in which he won the realm).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport4_zpsfdeb1470.jpg)

To his left rode his Knights Errant, ordered to stay close, all the better to receive Lord Giacomo’s shouted commands. Off to the right rode to the largest of his companies, being ten Knights of the Realm. The noble paladin Sir Galwin carried Ravola’s standard, ‘per pales gules and or a bull’s head sable’, upon a striped argent and sable silk flag.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport3_zps1fa851ed.jpg)

Above the knights, upon the walls, were two score longbowmen and a small company of men at arms, as well as the lone trebuchet, all of whom watched with trepidatious fascination as the armoured riders manoeuvred into position and dressed their ranks and files. Then the attention of both those upon and below the walls was caught by something else which revealed the test was about to begin. The brute bellowing surged and the attackers now came on. The two regiments of bulls came together to the flank of the hamlet, the tyrant Boulderguts raising his huge, cleaver-like sword aloft, its blade still besmeared with the blood of the garrison at Terme.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport7_zpsa559353a.jpg)

The only other ogres present, a brace of leadbelchers with their heavy burdens, moved up upon the other side of the hamlet, then released a thunderous blast of iron and lead with no noticeable result. It was a disappointment mirrored by the magics summoned by the limping Slaughtermaster, who also failed to harm the knights. More than one of Giacomo’s men began to believe the Lady had truly blessed them, and thus gained a confidence they had not really possessed before, despite their outward cheers.

Lord Giacomo dipped his lance to signal his command, guiding his own company and the young knights on his left to wheel a little and trot leisurely towards the main bodies of the foe. His intention was to hit the ogres to the flank and front with a synchronised assault from all three companies of knights. If, that is, all went well.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport8_zpsc7f3033f.jpg)

The plan went awry almost immediately. The oblique advance of the Knights Errant had put their flank within sight of the two cannon-carrying ogres. Considering their cannons were now empty, the two ogres now attempted to charge. Left to their own devices the young knights would most certainly have preferred to stand rather than flee from such a base foe, but Lord Giacomo did not intend to waste their lives and so with another gesture of his lance, he ordered them to run. He knew this would hinder his plans somewhat, yet hoped it would not do so irretrievably: the Knights Errant would surely reform beneath the walls, while the leadbelchers would be drawn within range of his many longbows. Then, just a little later than he intended, the young knights could come up and join the fray.

 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport9_zps5c4e155d.jpg)

The young knights obeyed and came thundering to the rear of Lord Giacomo’s company, doing so in a manner that appeared so much like a charge that the men at arms upon the wall looked down utter confusion. The tyrant Boulderguts, however, barely noticed. His attention had been entirely upon the foe before him, then was distracted only by the faltering advance of the other regiment of bulls, who had at first seemed intent upon charging Lord Giacomo’s company but for some reason failed to do so. Unhappy at their hesitation, he simply marched his own regiment calmly towards the foe, bawling: “March on, lads. Let them charge us! I am not afraid. Their wooden sticks’ll splinter and snap. Their bones’ll break as we bash their armour in. Let ‘em come. We’ll kill every last one of them and you’ll be sucking their marrow for breakfast!”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport10_zps1a9927c5.jpg)

Perhaps the Slaughtermaster was not convinced by his master’s speech, or possibly he thought to make sure it came true? Either way, while the tyrant shouted his boasts, the magic wielding ogre summoned up a magical fortitude and stubbornness to bolster the bulls’ natural strength.

Boulderguts’ bravado was rewarded by the charges he asked for. While Sir Galwin’s Knights Errant smashed into the tyrant’s own regiment …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport11_zpsd7508ba3.jpg)

… Lord Giacomo led his own smaller company into the Slaughtermaster’s regiment.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport12_zpsbd934c80.jpg)

One of the two large companies of longbowmen, who had been placed upon a wall from which their arrows could not reach the foe, had been making their way out of the gate so that they could lend what bloody contribution they could. The trebuchet had so far been incapable of landing anything near the foe, but now, upon witnessing the brave charges of their knights, these men joined with half the other company of Longbowmen still on the walls to send a hail of thirty arrows at the leadbelchers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport13_zps31c3ad49.jpg)

One of the brutes, his grey skin fatally pricked from head to foot by arrow heads, collapsed with a wail to the ground. His comrade, keen not to suffer a similar torment, turned and ran.

As the leadbelcher thrashed about in an ever increasing puddle of blood, his waling subsided until replaced by the sound of maniacal laughter. Razger Boulderguts had cut a paladin in two and found the sight of the horse carrying a pair of disembodied, stirruped legs very funny. Despite this horror, the other knights managed to wound the Slaughtermaster and fell an ogre, losing two of their own number. Some amongst them thought for a moment that the foe was giving way, entertaining a brief glimmer of hope that the impact of their lances at full charge could indeed discomfort the foe just as Lord Giacomo had promised. It was not to be, however. The ogres stood firm and the fight went on. (Note: the combat was a draw – I had a feeling this was the turning point, and an early one at that, in the game.)

Lord Giacomo threw himself even more enthusiastically at the foe, becoming entangled in a one-on-one fight against a bruiser. While he and the brute hacked at each other, Giacomo’s armour becoming bent, battered and bloodied, four of his knights fell to the enemy’s battle standard bearer, who waded through them swinging his blade as if he were merely scything hay and not steel clad men. The last knight was cut down by the rest of the ogres so that suddenly Lord Giacomo found that he faced them all alone.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport14_zpscbd6528e.jpg)

Facing such odds, and filled with despair at the quick slaughter of the men he loved, all the bravery Giacomo had ever known was insufficient. He turned to run, intent on the crazy desire to apologise to the people of Ravola for what he had done, only to be cut down and trampled into the dirt as the bulls hurtled onwards. Upon seeing what lay before them, the ogres happily turned this impetuous motion into a charge and crashing headlong into the stunned young knights beneath the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport15_zpsb6cb5d80.jpg)

The knights fighting Boulderguts and his regiment put up a better fight …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport16_zps600247c9.jpg)

… yet they too were doomed. Two by two, then one by one, they fell, until only madness kept them fighting (A snake eyes break test was passed). When finally reduced to one man, being the paladin carrying the standard of Ravola, even madness was not enough to keep him there. Like his Lord only a few moment’s before, he turned and fled …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport18_zpsaee7ae18.jpg)

… and like his Lord, he too was run down and ground into the mud by ironshod feet.

Cruelly, the Knights Errant were easily swept aside, their short lives ending in a combat lasting barely a moment. The victorious ogres simply stepped over their corpses and right up to the walls …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RavolaReport17_zpsda5f5279.jpg)

They still had the ladders they had used at Terme. What happened next was something like what had happened that castle, although here there were no knights advancing at their rear so they could take their time. When they did climb, the men on the walls stood no chance, something the ogres knew from the start and the men, even the slowest witted amongst them, knew from the moment they saw the first ogre pluck a defender from the wall, then clamber over to push two more from the parapet to their deaths.

Screams echoed in the streets, mingled with coarse voices crying “Give it hear!” and “Smash it down” and “Where do you think you’re running to little rat runt?” Misery and pain became the order of the day, and by nightfall, Ravola had well and truly fallen.

Never mind a castle, Razger Boulderguts had now captured no less than a city.



Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 29, 2013, 08:56:27 PM
Deliberations

Part Two: Attack

The City of Trantio


As always, Prince Girenzo Medizi of Trantio appeared calm. It did not mean he was content. All his orders, even those to have this person punished or that person tortured, were delivered quietly, assuredly and entirely without expression of the commonly expected emotions such as sadness or anger. Although he was young, his was a cold species of tyranny and most of those who served him closely and often had quickly learned not to search his face nor scrutinize his demeanour to ascertain his mood. These things could only ever be known by his words, which were direct and clear, if necessary determined and cruel.

He wore a long gown of richly embroidered satin-cloth, his hair cut neatly in an unflatteringly practical style, bulging out from a purple cap of velvet. In his right hand he clutched his sword and scabbard, the belt hanging loose, as if he had brought them as an after thought, a nod to the fact that the meeting was to concern war and that he was speaking in his capacity as Lord General of Trantio’s forces. He had been silent since told of the Pavonan conquest of Astiano, his attention fixed upon the map and the papers detailing his current military strength. Watching him were his chief secretary Master Maconi and the commander of the Compagnia del Sole, Captain-General Micheletto Fortebraccio. The only others on the battlement were the prince’s and the captain-general’s guards.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/DeliberationB1_zpse7f34982.jpg)

“It seems Duke Guidobaldo believes we are so afraid of events in the north that we are unwilling, even unable, to protest against his actions. The ambassador we received was without doubt here to gauge our fears concerning Miragliano, but not because Pavona wished to ally with us against the threat. Guidobaldo has other battles in mind, serving his own greed and lust for power. When he ought, by all that is right and proper, to stand beside his neighbours, he looks instead to snatch at what he can like a common cutpurse.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/DeliberationB2_zps822af9b2.jpg)

The town of Astiano was not a possession of Trantio, but the prince had family there, and the merchants of both towns had good trade relations, even if the road between them was in such a poor state as not to warrant a scratch on a map. What really annoyed Girenzo, however, was the fact that one neighbour thought to seize another, whilst not only keeping their intentions secret from him, but actively misleading him. And why did Guidobaldo think he had any right to conquer Astiano? If anyone had the right to rule Astiano it was him.

He drew his finger across the map, then tapped at Astiano. “I liked the duke of old, but not the man he has become. While I was busy cleansing this city of heresy and the improper influence of lower clergy and rabble rousers, he was encouraging such follies. Everything has its place in both the heavens and the earth, proper hierarchies both civil and religious. To raise one god above all others is – as our own dear city’s ugly past attests – to topple all rightful authority. The duke is playing with fire, fanning the flames of rebellion, burning down lawful precedents, and why? Greed. Just as the Arch Lector preaches how all Tilean princes should stand together in the service of Morr against the vampire duke, Guidobaldo instead cries ‘For Morr’ as he robs and steals from his neighbours.”

As he fell silent no-one present thought to comment. To speak now, even during the silence, felt like interruption. Eventually, he spoke again.

“I know this duke only too well, but his son, the commander of this army at Astiano – of him I know almost nothing.” He turned to look at his secretary. “Master Maconi?”

Recovering quickly from the discomfort of such a sudden enquiry, Maconi answered. “Your grace, the young Lord Polcario is, from every report I have heard, simply a soldier obedient to his father’s will.”

“Ah, but what kind of soldier?” asked the prince. “Soldiers, like dogs, come in many breeds. Is this boy a pampered lap dog? A turnspit? A hound or a spaniel? A shepherd’s cur or a bold mastiff like our captain general here?”

In response, Fortebraccio simply nodded, taking care not to show any discomfort. None but the prince could know whether the comment was meant to be in jest. Nor was anyone going to ask.

Maconi put his hands upon his hips, an action which accentuated his portly shape. The copious green cloth of his bonnet flopped to one side and the silvered badge of office beneath his black beard glinted in the sun as he answered.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/DeliberationB3_zpsaa225dba.jpg)

“Oh, definitely a hunting hound, your grace. He is wholly given over to the practise of arms, to riding, hawking and the company of soldiers and knights. This may of course change as he matures, but at present his youthful straightforwardness makes him merely his father’s instrument.”

The prince gave a nod, both a sign of his understanding and that the secretary should stop speaking. “The musician plays the tune.”

Once again he studied the map, tracing the line of a path through the Trantine hills. “What of Guidobaldo’s other ‘instruments’? This army at Astiano – what does it consist of? How many mercenaries? And which companies?”

“Apparently none, your grace. The soldiers are Pavonan, though not mere militia hurriedly raised for the campaign, but contracted soldiers, well armed and drilled. Astiano fell quickly.”

Once more the prince simply nodded to show he had heard. After a long moment’s silence, he turned to captain-general Fortebraccio. “Did the duke seek your service?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/DeliberationB4_zps769dd768.jpg)

The captain-general gave a smile of sorts, being one of the few men in the prince’s circle apparently untroubled by nerves in his presence. Of course, if he was, he would hide it, for it would not do for a condottieri to be so easily cowed. His head was uncovered, as he held his yellow feathered hat (a field sign of the Compagnia del Sole’s officers) by his side. His left hand rested on the pommel of his sword, its blade hidden beneath the generous folds of a copious cassock of scarlet cloth. His slashed tunic was blue, thus complementing the cassock to make the company’s colours.

“As was our right, your grace, we dispatched our chancellors to several realms.”

“He did not agree to your terms then?” asked the prince. He had only very recently re-hired the condottiere company, on a contract almost identical to the previous one. But he knew they had looked for better terms before they agreed to his.

“He procrastinated,’ said the captain-general, “while lecturing my chancellors on the proper worship of Morr.”

“As is his wont. Perhaps Sagrannalo’s spirit has returned to haunt us, having taken residence in the body of a foolish duke? Yet … can he be so foolish?”

“His star is in the ascendant,” offered Maconi. “While his son succeeds, his subjects are kept happy. The merchants of Pavona no longer have to pay Astonian tolls, and his citizen soldiers can share the loot they have won. Of course, there are some Pavonans who are not so content, for various reasons.”

He prince fixed his attention upon his secretary. “Are you suggesting,” he said calmly, “that I stir up insurrection amongst the duke’s subjects?”

“It was merely my intention, you grace, to report the situation,” replied Maconi, stumbling a little over his words. “Not to suggest anything at all.”

“Still, it is something we should consider. Who exactly is dissatisfied?”

“Those who remember how the men of Astiano aided them in their hour of need against the hill goblins forty years ago. Those who believe the city cursed by the ghosts of the victims of the plague, unquiet spirits who cannot rest because they know some terrible truth. Those who …”

“This is all by the by,” interrupted the prince. “I don’t want to hear of old men’s grudges, superstitious gossip and alehouse ghost stories. Does anyone of any consequence complain against the duke?”

Maconi pointed to a paper upon the table, one yet to be perused by the prince. “The dwarfen exiles, moneylenders and craftsmen in the main, have expressed their disgust at their banishment, and desire support for their cause.”

“Moneylenders.” Here anyone else would smile. The prince merely tilted his head a little. “Rich, then?”

“Not so much now considering their present circumstances, your grace, by which I mean having been driven from their stronghouses and robbed of their treasures, but with connections, no doubt, and practised in the skill of raising money.”

“And who would no doubt fall over each other in their scramble to raise monies for those who would aid them in their cause?” He picked up the letter in question and briefly perused its contents. “You must enquire as to their terms, master Maconi. Let us see how much gold they can conjure; how generous they are prepared to be for the right cause.”

Maconi bowed silently, and the prince pointed at the captain-general.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/DeliberationB5_zps9cad4548.jpg)

“In the meantime we will show our troublesome neighbour both our displeasure and what forces we have at our disposal, whilst ensuring our strength is maintained. I would have this done in such a way that we are able at any moment to turn northwards should the situation require. The soldiers of your company should find such an activity satisfies their lust for action and their desire for rewards. This shall be performed strictly according to the terms of our contract. Do you understand, captain-general?”

Again general Fortebraccio smiled. “Yes, your grace, I understand. A punishing show of strength, incurring little loss amongst my men. That’s exactly what we do best.”

Prince Girenzo turned the map around so that the captain-general could look upon it the right way up, and launched immediately into instructions as if the whole plan was already carefully weighed and reckoned. It was clear he had not been idle during his silences.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 15, 2013, 02:10:00 PM
The Duchess Departs


'Capture the Duchess' Battle Scenario

The Vampire Duke Allesandro Sforta of Miragliano is attempting to capture the Duchess Maria of Ebino (his first cousin once removed). She is concealed amongst her Ebinan forces, disguised as a soldier, and is attempting to get away from Ebino to safety. The vampire player will not know which figure represents her. Her own soldiers are committed to helping her escape. To escape successfully (and thus ‘win’ the game) she must get from her deployment zone to the opposite table. The vampire Duke’s deployment zone intersects with the Duchess’s escape zone.

To make things more challenging (otherwise this would be way too easy for the vampire player) there are two little forces coming to help - both part of the background stories already produced for the campaign. Maria’s second cousin (the vampire Duke’s own nephew) Lord Guglielmo is racing to her aid, and she also has an agreement with the shadowy Arrabiatti Brotherhood, who are thus on their way too. Their arrival zones are marked on the long edges of the table.

The Arrabiatti (light horsemen) are the closest, and they will arrive in turn 2 on 4+, in turn 3 on 3+, and from turn 4 onwards on 2+. Lord Guglielmo has further to come.
He arrives in turn 2 on 6+, in turn 3 on 5+, in turn 4 on 4+ and in the remaining turns on 3+. It is possible that one or both may not actually arrive during the game at all.

If the duchess makes it off the escape table edge she has avoided capture. If she makes it off another table edge she will only escape if her forces kill one of the two Vampires in the Undead army during the 6 turn battle. This is because if one vampire dies, the other will be too concerned with maintaining the army’s manifestation in the world of the living to chase off after her.

If the Duchess is captured early, or killed, then the more of the enemy forces the vampire player destroys, the easier they will find it to capture the town of Ebino by siege.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/ScenarioTableLayoutFinalDraf_zpsfc2cc143.jpg)
_____________________________________________________________________

Ebino, Summer, IC2401

The preparations were made, and the Duchess was as ready as she could be for the dangers ahead. Thankfully she was an experienced rider, for if it were not so then her disguise would be useless. She was cloaked in green, armed with a spear, armoured in mail, and wore an iron helm just like the other horsemen in the little company. It had been suggested she join the knights instead, and clothe herself in full plate armour, riding a barded warhorse - an idea the knights themselves had readily supported for then they would have the honour of personally defending their lady. But she herself had refused, for she knew she would be discomfited by the disguise, unstable in the saddle and unable to ride anywhere near as fast as a successful escape was likely to require. Once the knights realised that by not accompanying her they would instead have the ominous honour of sacrificing themselves in combat to fend off the foe rather than simply pelting from the city as fast as their mounts could carry them, then they readily, if somewhat darkly, accepted the idea that the duchess would ride with the light horse.

If only the duchess had heeded the advice of her council and left already, then this desperate ploy would not have been necessary, but she could not be moved (in any sense of the word). Most stubbornly she had insisted she would stay with her people as long as possible. Only when it was certain that Ebino could not hope to survive alone  would she leave in an attempt to fetch help. Now was indeed the time.



The walls of Ebino were strong, moated and in good repair.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino1_zpsdbb547c2.jpg)

Against any other army such defences would prove a mighty challenge, and a bloody one too. Against the already dead, however, they could only delay the inevitable. As long as the vampire commanders re-animated the fallen, then their shambling rank and file would press on remorselessly. They would not even have to collect faggots and billets to fill the moat, instead simply pouring in corpses to fashion a ford, after which the soggy corpses could arise and claw their own way up the ladders to reinforce those who crossed upon their backs! Even with ample stores of food supplies, which would have counted for much against a mortal foe, Ebino could not hope to withstand a long siege against such an enemy as this. There was also disease to contend with, and the sheer terror of being surrounded by such hellish foes day and night. So it was that the duchess finally accepted that unless a substantial relief force were to come, then Ebino’s horrible fate was sealed.

The foe proved to be not only terrifying, but numerous as well. Thanks to a westerly breeze, the stench of the zombies and ghouls amongst their ranks preceded them. These proved to be the least of the threats they had to offer: there were also monstrous horrors with blue-tinged flesh, and black armoured knights illuminated by a wickedly hued glow.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino3_zpsd12328ee.jpg)

A brace of vampires led them, including the vampire duke himself. No-one in Ebino knew who his companion had once been, perhaps some captain of the guard? That was certainly the role he seemed to be playing now, his golden armour marking him out amongst the  ranks of a heavily armoured unit of foot soldiers. Their blades glowed green and unnatural, surely a consequence of the potent magical energies binding them to this realm.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino8_zps81d53508.jpg)

The vampire duke rode with a band of hellish knights, their steeds long since bereft of flesh, with eye sockets that burned with a blue light and the ragged remnants of silken ceremonial barding fluttering about their legs. Each rider clutched a sturdy lance, and sported rusting armour of archaic design – the very armour they had been interred in long ago.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino7_zps849f7409.jpg)

Upon the far the right of the vampire duke’s line strode a band of hideous monstrosities, as big as ogres, though ganglier and more horrible to behold. They had pierced themselves with shards of bone, perhaps to stimulate rigour mortis ridden muscles, or perhaps simply to appear more ghastly?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino6_zpsbe340c3a.jpg)

From a tower top near the town gate the dwarfen engineer Welleg could hear the clanking of the levers and wheels that raised the portcullis. From beneath the hood of his red-woollen cloak puffs of smoke emerged, as the cannon crew he commanded busied themselves to ready their machine, stripping off the lead apron from the touch hole, pouring and bruising the powder, and knocking the ash from the slowmatch in the linstock over the parapet. Welleg peered over the walls and decided upon his first target.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino5_zpsc642e44a.jpg)

The gates swung open, and out came the Duchess Maria’s soldiers. One of her two companies of mercenary crossbowmen led the way, rushing off to the right to find a spot from which to launch their bolts. Behind them, marching steady and purposefully to the sound of a brass kettle drum, came the famous Ironsides – each dwarf sporting a banner upon his back. Behind them came her knights, almost wholly armoured from hoof to head.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino2_zps29ca5084.jpg)

The race was on!

(Deployment done, game report/story to follow.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 19, 2013, 10:09:55 AM
The Battle (Save the Duchess)


Welleg’s cannon boomed and the ball smashed one of the Black Riders to pieces. The crossbowmen moved boldly off to the flank, between the moat and the road, while the  Ironsides regiment marched directly forwards down the road, thus allowing the knights and the light horse to cross the bridge before the gatehouse. Unknown to the foe, the Duchess was now outside the walls. Captain Sir Giorgio was only too aware. He rode ahead of her, in command of the knights, and now began scrutinising the foe’s disposition, desperately determining how best to get the Duchess safely past the foe and away.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino4_zpse6d3cc0c.jpg)

The vampire duke’s force simply moved forwards, maintaining a neat front – a goal made easier by the fact that the Black Riders could move directly towards the house in their way, able to move ethereally through it any time they liked. The broken bones of the rider shattered by iron shot moments before now re-knitted themselves together until the rider rode with his comrades once more, as if nought had happened. The dwarfen engineer Welleg, peering through a pocket perspective glass, swore quietly. If a direct hit by 9 lb of iron proved so harmless, then what use was he and his gun? Still, if he could hit the vampire duke, that would surely prove distracting, and distraction was everything when the Duchess was trying to escape.

Suddenly, in front of the undead army, five rotting, blood-smeared zombies burst from the ground …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino9_zps7524ecae.jpg)

… a sight which caught Captain Sir Giorgio’s eye immediately. He too swore. There were already too many enemies, and here even more were being summoned. He brought to mind a prayer to Morr, and began repeating the first line, “Mighty Morr, Lord of Death, deliver us from the corruption of Undeath,” over and over. Before him the dwarfs had finally cleared the junction before the moat, creating a gap sufficient for him and his company. Spurring his horse, he led his knights through it, glancing behind to ensure that the light horse were following as had been the plan. They were. Just as he began to turn to face the foe once more, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, something beyond the crossbowmen, within the shadow of the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino10_zpsd1619acd.jpg)

At first his stomach knotted as he thought it must be more undead, but then he saw it was horsemen, living men on living horses, with no banner to mark them out and a mish-mash of arms and armour. The Arrabiatti! They had come as they had promised.

He saw now that one amongst the riders was looking his way, and indeed raised a staff as if to signal him, to say ‘Good Morrow’! White haired, white bearded and robed in faded blue, it was Lord Totto himself.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino13_zpsfa760cd1.jpg)

Perhaps, thought Sir Giorgio - quite surprising himself with in the process – perhaps we can succeed? Lord Totto was a wizard, and apart from blessed priest of Morr there was surely no better ally to have when fighting the already dead. Perhaps the duchess could escape and Ebino could be saved?

Lord Totto and his riders were, of course, ignorant of the plan. But a man such as he could not be so foolish as to not realise something was afoot. Why would so weak a force issue forth from the safety of the walls if not to attempt some sort of breakout, or to target a particular foe? The enemy was far too strong to beat in the open battle. Whatever was happening, Lord Totto had given his word to come to the Duchess’s aid, and he intended to do all that he could. He had already prepared some spells, and what with the Arrabiatti being known as the ‘shadowy brotherhood’ his magics were drawn from the lore of Shadow. Conjuring a Penumbral Pendulum he aimed it at the vampire on foot ahead of him. But its effect fell so short it seemed a pathetic gesture, and with foe’s massed ranks shambling ever closer, he began to wonder whether he had joined a great folly.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino12_zps3fd808cd.jpg)

A flurry of crossbow bolts flew over Lord Totto’s head and felled four of the recently raised zombies, while Welleg’s second cannon ball ploughed into the earth before the same vampire Totto’s spell had failed to reach. It seemed the demonic creature was blessed with wickedly good fortune. (Game note: I knew he would use ‘Look out sir’ even if I did hit him, but I was desperately clutching at any chance to kill one of the vampires and thus - as per the scenario rules - allow the duchess to leave by any table edge. She could simply stroll off the side.)

The massed regiment of skeletons looked to be preparing to charge Lord Totto’s company, lurching forwards some distance, but their advance slowed and they resumed their previous lethargic pace. As the Black Riders did indeed move through the house as if it were nothing more than mist …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino16_zpsb43f5f69.jpg)

… the vampires redoubled their efforts to conjure up necromantic magics. They were rewarded by the death of one Ironside dwarf as a Curse of Years took hold, and the summoning of eight zombies to reinforce the lone zombie up ahead. The horror that had once been Duke Alessandro watched with dead eyes set in pallid flesh, his snarling mouth revealing wickedly curled fangs.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino15_zps7fa48a9a.jpg)

The dwarfs, marching as best they could down the road, could sense the malignant potency of the debilitating magics wreathing them, but their pace, slow as it was, did not lessen one jot. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino14_zps249a684f.jpg)

Captain Sir Giorgio commanded his knights to reform as swiftly as they could, hoping to do so whilst moving forwards to screen the light horse behind. He knights might have succeeded too, if it were not for the horrors amassed before them – they reformed well enough, but took too long over the action. The light horse funnelled through behind them and took position on the far left, while the dwarfs – although the least well equipped for the task – marched on in their own attempt to screen the duchess’s escape.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino17_zps5c0fd76c.jpg)

Lord Totto sensed that whatever the Ebinan’s were up to, they were doing it on the other side of the road, so he ordered the Arrabiatti to ride behind the crossbowmen, then to halt facing the foe so that he could fathom how best to assist. He could just make out Sir Giorgio shouting encouragement to his men, telling them that their moment had come, and that here and now they would prove their true worth.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino18_zps4f049447.jpg)

Once again Welleg’s piece sent a ball within a whisker of the vampire leading the Grave Guard, and once again the dwarf cursed. A handful of zombies were felled by crossbow bolts. This was not enough. The enemy came on, the remaining zombies charging into the dwarven flank …


(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino19_zps6be8f48a.jpg)

… while the ghouls tried but failed to join them. The shambling monstrosities on the far right of the undead line now changed places with the Black Knights, as the vampire duke himself looked suspiciously at the green-cloaked light horse and wondered whether his cousin must be amongst them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino20_zps109912c9.jpg)

The massed regiments on the undead left, including an ever swelling horde of zombies, came on too, disheartening all who could see them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino21_zpsb7612caf.jpg)

Wicked magics emanated from the vampires: two more dwarfs succumbed to another curse, while a cruelly enchanted gaze killing five of the Arrabiatti, sending the rest, including Lord Totto, galloping towards the town gates simply to remove themselves from the horror of their fallen comrades tortured, lifeless faces.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino22_zps821f2d8a.jpg)

The dwarfs killed the last of the zombies and now prepared themselves for the real test – before them stood the snarling, viciously clawed crypt horrors. The Ironsides knew they could not allow such a foe to get close to the duchess. Vanhel’s Dance Macabre magically moved the Black Knights even closer, forcing Sir Giorgio’s hand. If he did not charge now he would lose his chance. He could not afford to allow the enemy knights to charge him and his men, so, with a desperate cry (and with the dwarfs also charging by their side) he urged his men on and they thundered boldly into the much more numerous foe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino24_zpsea8e4a94.jpg)

The Duchess Maria watched grimly, and knew this was likely to be her one and only chance. If her knights could stand for but a few moments, if their armour could protect them against the first blows, she might just be able to make it past the foe and escape. So, breaking off from her escort, she dug her spurs deep into her mount’s flanks and dashed forwards.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino25_zps68b60dc6.jpg)

Both units of crossbow, on the wall and on the field below, send a flurry of bolts at the Grave Guard and brought down seven. Welleg’s curses grew louder as another shot from his cannon ploughed into the dirt only a foot or so from the vampire. The dwarfs crewing his gun flinched at the fury of his voice, yet busied themselves with reloading regardless, for it is in a dwarf’s nature to see things through to the bitter end.

On the field below the Ironsides were certainly doing so, not only standing firm …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino27_zps863f1a96.jpg)

… but even felling one of the horrors. The knights did not fare so well. When they came to grips with the foe, they were also gripped with fear. Sir Giorgio was no longer shouting, but screaming, his bellowing commands having twisted into a tortured and wordless sound.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino26_zpsb160c479.jpg)

The foe proved too much for him and his men, and as three knights died, the rest broke and fled. The vampire duke commanded his Black Knights to stand, then turned the body about. He now knew exactly where his cousin was, and he did not intend to lose her.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino28_zpsd89cc3f1.jpg)

As the ghouls crashed into the beleaguered dwarfs’ flank, a gust of magical wind allowed a mass of newly summoned undead appeared on the field, reinforcing ever unit that had so far been damaged, as well as creating yet another body of zombies. Umpteen ironsides now fell, and the last few remaining finally succumbed to fear and fled pell-mell away. There was no-one to help the duchess now – every unit on her side of the field, apart from the light horse, was broken, battered, beaten; and the light horse were too far away to help. She was all alone. The vampire duke grinned, revealing his razor sharp fangs, evil intent writ upon his face. He began to raise his hand, ready to signal the chase, when suddenly the sound of thundering hooves caught his attention. His nephew, Lord Guglielmo, had arrived (Turn 5 – better late then never).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino29_zps6adffdd0.jpg)

Without hesitation, Guglielmo galloped his veteran knights right up to the undead, while the duchess desperately rode on behind. (I was cursing the no march move within 8” of the enemy rule!)

The green cloaked horsemen, for want of a better way to sacrifice themselves, now charged into the newly raised zombies. Lord Totto had rallied the last of the shadowy brothers and cast a withering spell against the foe, but it proved weak. Welleg cheered as his next shot flew directly at the vampire, then collapsed to his knees in frustration as he watched a skeleton push the vampire out of harm’s way at the last moment.

When the horrors broke into a run, Lord Totto turned and fled yet again. Foul magics curled after him, bringing down three of his companions and grievously wounding him. He hurtled over the bridge and through the gate, entering the town. He did not linger, however, not even to tend his wounds, but rode right through and left by the far gate. Lord Guglielmo would not flee, instead he braced himself as his uncle and the Black Knights charged, vowing not to yield to fear. (Pass fear test, now 568 points of undead were fighting 185 points of knights and Lord!)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ebino30_zps3ca20093.jpg)

The vampire duke laughed gleefully as he closed upon his nephew, and the two joined in personal combat. As living horses whinnied and snorted in terror, their undead counterparts simply ground their teeth. Steel rang as blade clattered against blade. And in the midst two Sforta lords, from both sides of the seam that divides the living and the dead, fought. The outcome was inevitable, even Lord Guglielmo had accepted that, but all that really mattered was how long he could keep the vampire duke occupied.

Somehow, though no living witnesses remain to explain how it was so, he survived just long enough to save the duchess. Finally, as she fled into the hills, the vampire’s cold blade, a horribly curved butchery tool, carved him in twain.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: spafe on October 31, 2013, 01:17:35 PM
This is incredible, really well written. Very much looking forward to the next installment.

(sorry is this disrupts the thread, please delete it if I shouldnt have commented here)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 31, 2013, 04:16:41 PM
Don't apologise, Spafe. Comments, any comments, is good. A lack of comments makes me think no-one is bothered with it. If I know people are actually enjoying it, it gives me motivation.

I am currently working on the next installment  - the end of second season general report, this time with illustrated stories incorporated into it. Oh, and I have a new battle report to write too. From the way the players and NPCs are maneouvring there should be some interesting battles soon.

Interestingly, I cannot write any of this from the players' characters' perspectives (the major powers in the realm), because (a) I am not them, and because (b) they wouldn't want me to reveal their private plans and stuff. But it seems to be fun following various Non Player Characters through. Expect more about the Compagnia del Sole, the exiled dwarfs, the Greenskin Corsairs and Biagino and Bertoldo. And hopefully more NPCs and groups as play/the story continues.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on November 01, 2013, 12:26:31 AM
Great stuff and can't wait for more
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 01, 2013, 07:28:12 AM
Thanks, Doo. Instead of waiting until the whole thing is finished, I'll post the first half of the general report now.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of Season 2, Summer 2401

General Report, Part One


For many in Tilea it is not a happy time, for some people things could not get any worse. The fears concerning the Vampire Duke of Miragliano have turned out to be very well founded as his dreadful army of walking corpses has laid siege to Ebino. Battle was joined before its gate as the Duchess Maria attempted to escape, perhaps hoping to beg relief from some neighbouring power. The duchess’s current whereabouts are, however, unknown, and no-one knows what fate has befallen her. It is whispered that she may have escaped one danger only to fall into some new peril.

Accordingly, the Archlector Calictus II of the Holy Church of Morr has commanded that the following be proclaimed by his priests throughout Tilea:

Good people of Tilea, faithful servants of Morr and all the lawful gods, take heed, for I bring not warnings and fearful predictions, but dire news of things that have come to pass. The Wickedness in the North is no longer brooding and preparing, but has marched forth even in the bright light of day, to begin clawing and tearing at the world of the living. Even now a vast throng of foul abominations surrounds Ebino, and has perhaps already devoured its populace. This will not satisfy such as the Vampire Duke, Morr’s curse be upon him, and if he is not stopped he will march on to conquer, corrupt and consume the whole of the north. What was our duty has become also an absolute necessity, and not only to please Holy Morr and ensure that his jurisdiction over the souls of the dead is restored, but for our very survival. Without further delay, all who can must immediately take arms and join in the stand against him. Poor Ravola cannot ride against him, for brute Ogre mercenaries have laid waste to that land. And in the south the threat of a great Waagh looms. And so we hereby call upon Viadaza, Urbimo, Remas, Trantio, Pavona, yeah even Campogrotta and the wizard lord, to put aside all differences and march forth together to put an end to this terror before it devours us all. We call on nobles and militia men, condottieri and foreign mercenaries, to muster and march with sword and spear, crossbow and musket, lance and mace. Now is the time to act, to destroy the threat before it grows too strong. May Morr bless all those brave warriors who obey this command, and curse all those base cowards who seek to shirk this duty.

In the south, far from the threat of undead domination, armies manoeuvre and merchants bicker, and all is as it ever was. The infamous band of mercenary raiders known as the Greenskin Corsairs have moved inland. It is said they have been contracted by some city state to raid their enemies. Many have warned that it does not bode well to have a Waagh in the east while Greenskin mercenaries like these are active in the west.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Greenskin Corsairs

As ever, they were the last to arrive at the camp. When the mules were alive, they were always behind the rest of the mob, and now the beasts had been eaten, the very marrow sucked from their bones (and all agreed very nice it was too), they were just that little bit further back. Toggler the goblin knew that Hafdi did most of the heavy work, but without Toggler’s constant encouragement they would never reach the camp each night at all. Hafdi, not the brightest of orcs – and that’s saying something considering the level of wit possessed by your average orc - was easily distracted. For the last hour he had been complaining about his swollen toe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenSkinCorsCamp3_zpsaa4b0b5c.jpg)

“It’s not just ‘urtin, it’s itchin’ too!” Hafdi said.

“Well,” sighed Toggler, “pull a bit faster an’ we’ll get to where we’re goin’ an’ then you can get to scratching.”

“I in’t gonna scratch at it, not when it ‘urts this much.”

Not for the first time today, Toggler rolled his eyes. “That, my big toed friend, is what you call a dilemma.”

Hafdi stopped, so suddenly that Doodo the snot nearly fell from the front of the wagon. The orc looked confused. Well, moreso than usual.

“You talkin’ to my toe?” he asked.

Toggler had no idea where this new nonsense came from. “What’ya mean, talkin’ to yer toe?”

“You just said he was your friend, and told him about the dilella.”

“’Dilemma’,” corrected the goblin. “The word’s ‘dilemma’, ain’t that right Doodo?”

“Go faster. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!” shouted the snot, as he always did.

“Come on,” said Toggler, “it ain’t much further. You can bring Hafdi along too.”

Hafdi’s pained expression vanished to be replaced by a grin. “You is talking to my toe!”

Hefting the pole, and once again nearly tipping Doodo the snot over (he never learned), they set off for the final stretch …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenSkinCorsCamp2_zps17e28e02.jpg)

… passing by the camp’s outermost sewed-skin tents. There a bunch of Poglin Fangface’s goblins were gathered around a trestle table they had dragged from a woodsman’s hut nearby. Upon the table lay a murderous looking five-barreled pistol.

“I told ya you’d never get the thing to work, so don’t go acting all surprised,” one of them was shouting, a goblin by the name of Murda Crustychin.

His companion, Splitfinger, clutching a bent ramrod in lieu of any useful sort of tool, was snarling. “It’ll work alright, Murda. An’ if you don’t stop distracting me with yer shoutin’ I’ll be tryin’ it out on you first.”

Another goblin standing nearby, Aggler, hefted an impressively wide muzzled blunderbuss and glared at the other two.

Murda, his red eyes gleaming with a malice that was never quite absent, drew his cutlass and raised it threateningly. “You’ll not be pointing it at me if you ain’t got hands to hold it, will ya?”

Splitfinger, his back to his friend, stiffened, his crooked fangs sliding over his taught lips as he grimaced. He clenched his fist, making sure it was hidden from Murda by the bulk of his not insubstantial head.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenSkinCorsCamp1_zps6192e603.jpg)

But before he could launch his surprise punch, Aggler coughed. “Remember, boys, no arguin’,” he said, calmly swinging his blunderbuss around to aim at the pair of them. “Poglin said I could shoot ya if ya got to fightin’ again, an’ I mean to follow orders. I knows how to be a good gob.”

Murda and Splitfinger froze, then as the cutlass was lowered and thrust into the dirt, the fist was unclenched.

“’Sbetter,” said Aggler. Now get it fixed before it’s dark an’ I don’t need to tell Poglin about your naughtiness. He wants if=t ready real quick just in case the fun starts tomorrow. You don’t wanna miss out on the fun do ya?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Other, even more powerful, mercenary forces are on the move also, including the renowned Compagnia del Sole. Compared to other most condottiere armies this company have a long history, serving many different states. They remain, for now, in the service of Trantio, and have resumed their manoeuvres in the Trantine hills, though to what purpose (beyond keeping them busy and ensuring they work for their pay) only they and the Prince of Trantio know. They never camp in one spot for more than a few days, and their camp usually consists of several palisaded compounds in fairly close vicinity so that should the alarm be raised in one, the others might sally forth to their aid.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Compagnia del Sole

It was evening and the camp was preparing to change watches so that most the men could sleep. This was probably the last night they would camp here. In the last few weeks they had never stayed put in one place more than two nights in a row, except that they had been here for five nights. Most men presumed that a difficult decision was being made concerning how best to employ them – certainly riders went to and fro at every hour of the day, scouring the land around for intelligence. It was hoped by many that whatever they found, it would lead to some good looting, for nearly every fellow in the company was itching to get their hands on some plunder – all the better to enjoy themselves when at last they returned to Trantio.

The southern most of the three camps had been palisaded partly with stakes, partly with wooden pavaises. These were carried from camp to camp bundled in wagons, the stakes replaced as and when necessary. There were plenty of pavaises, for there was no shortage of crossbowmen in the company, and each possessed his own for use in battle should it so be ordered. It was understood that once loot had been acquired, then the wagoneers would dump their timber burdens and fill up with rather more exciting loads. Half the dwellings were tents of waxed linen, half were huts made of deal boards and turf, although the officers had pavilions of prettily painted cloth in the company colours and bearing the white rod and half-sun emblem of the company.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompSoleCamp1_zpsda0486ef.jpg)

The guards were vigilant, ready at any moment to let loose a volley and cry, “All arm”. Every gate had an officer and a drummer in attendance, plus a good half dozen or more crossbowmen to patrol the perimeter. Being a company of good repute, there was not one purblind man amongst the crossbowmen, which made them the first and best choice as sentinels.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompSoleCamp2_zps54a6a55d.jpg)

Somewhere within the camp:

It was a good sized pig, roasting for three hours already. Every mouth within two dozen yards radius was watering, and not a man amongst them failed to wonder how long it might be before they could partake of its flesh. Most were busy with some task or another, whether it was oiling armour, sharpening blades, or simply guarding a tent. Tending the spit was Donno, one of the lads who looked after the draught horses and mules, while Ottaviano and Baccio stood close to the fire, sipping not too sour wine from pewter goblets, and discussing business, as they most commonly did. Both had had their hair trimmed by the company barber, the better to suit the hardships of campaign, and both were dressed somewhat more practically compared to the clothes they favoured when representing the company as chancellors.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompSoleCamp3_zps70ddcc65.jpg)
 
Everyone in the Compagnia del Sole was expected to serve in the field, to be soldiers first and foremost, whatever other office they held or responsibilities they had. Ottaviano wore both padded leather and a short-sleeved shirt of mail beneath the company’s purple. His companion was un-armoured, but also wore the livery colours of the company, in his case the blue and red, as well as an embroidered badge upon his chest. A heavy blade hung from his waist.

“I cannot say I am surprised that Prince Girenzo was so keen to re-employ us for another term,” said Baccio. “What with the threats north and south of him – he’s between a rock and a hard place.”

“The rock, I take it, is made of bones and the hard place happens to have green skin,” suggested Ottaviano.

“You get my drift. So yes, it must be reassuring to have a company such as ours in his employ. Yet then to send us about this business, merely a matter of quarrelling with his neighbour, that’s the part I don’t understand.”

“The threats you speak of are very real. They also happen also to be far away. Why shouldn’t the prince tend to his own house first to ensure he will be ready for those threats?”

Baccio took a gulp of his wine, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So he isn’t just keeping us busy in the meantime?”

“Oh no. Nor is he trying to keep us happy, even if the lads’ll be content to indulge in a bit of pillaging. He’s looking to ensure that no-one else takes advantage of the present situation at his cost. Take this Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona - it seems to me, and I reckon to most others who have given it any thought, that he thinks he can take what he likes right now because everyone is preoccupied with your rock and your hard place. This might well be true, and it could serve Pavona very well when it comes to their own defence, but how does it help Trantio, or Remas, or Verezzo? If either the undead or the greenskins do reach this far then they will indeed be powers to contend with, and if so then these city states will need to stand together, as the Morrite church had decreed. That won’t be so easy if Pavona has been busy stealing their castles and swallowing up their towns.”

Baccio frowned. “Won’t Pavona simply have to do the lion’s share of the fighting then? The more Duke Guidobaldo has, the more he can raise for the defence of the land.”

“I don’t doubt at all, Baccio, that his numerous armies will fight most courageously against both foes, and should it happen we will likely be amongst his forces,” agreed Ottaviano. “Nor do I doubt that he will require payment from all those who need him to fight. It’s all about the sequence of events, my friend: Right now, everyone is distracted, fearful, so the duke of Pavona snatches this, steals that, conquers the other. The rest are offended, but those to the north dare not turn their backs on the undead, and those to the south cannot show their arses to the greenskins. Pavona prospers. Then the threats draw closer still, and the duke of Pavona, now grown mighty, offers for a suitable price to be the lion you spoke of and protect his neighbours. He then does so, probably swallowing a few more choice tracts of land in the process and consolidating his hold on what he has got. But winning nevertheless.”

Baccio smiled. “And everyone says thank you?”

“Oh yes. They will be so grateful they will forget his past crimes, at least for a little while. It is hard to be angry at your heroic protector.”

The smile had gone from Baccio’s face, replaced by a frown. “So Prince Girenzo, by using us, is making sure all that doesn’t happen? I think I preferred the happy ending where there was a mighty and heroic protector looking after everyone.”

“I think that is also exactly the ending Prince Girenzo desires. The difference is, in his story he is the hero and not Duke Guidobaldo.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompSoleCamp4_zpsa2041c62.jpg)

“Arrogant, aren’t they these nobles?” continued Ottavanio. “You have to love them, though. Without men such as these we would not have our living. Instead our only employ would be against swarming greenskin hordes or the horrors of every hell – a miserable and likely very short existence. I’d rather have my wine, roast pork, a bed of dry hay and dreams of pretty wenches and gold after the fighting. What say you, Donno?”

The mukeskinner looked up, as if awakening from a dream. “Huh?”

“I want to know your opinion,” said Ottavannio.

“Pig’s ready,” came the answer.

“See?” Ottavanio said to Baccio. “There’s another man who likes his roast pork.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Report, Part 2 to follow.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: WallyTWest on November 02, 2013, 08:34:46 PM
Thankyou.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Falkenhyn on November 03, 2013, 07:02:07 AM
Great job keep it up i very much enjoy reading these.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: spafe on November 05, 2013, 08:56:08 AM
Mwoar, Mwoar!!! :-p

Great stuff. Looking forward to part 2

On the subject of getting it from the players point of view, could you possibly ask them to write small contributions, that way they can give additional views/perspectives on it, even if its only after the fact (such as a general basking in his triumph, or plotting his revenge after a defeat). Obvs if they arnt up for it then nvm but might be an interesting addition to the yarn you are spinning
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 11, 2013, 09:45:57 PM
Thank you gentlemen for you kind words. At last, after 15 minutes here and 10 minutes there for the last 10 days, part 2 of the report is complete.

General Report, End of Summer IC 2401, Part 2

In the far north-east of Tilea, the realm of Ravola has apparently been swallowed entirely by the ogre army of the Wizard Lord Bentiglovio. What few peasants escaped the bloody turmoil have reported that both the fortresses of Maratto and Terme have arenow nothing more than lamentable, smoking ruins. Every knightly warrior, no matter how skilled in arms, how well protected by armour nor how well mounted, has been laid low, beaten into the ground by huge clubs and left to rot where they lie. In Ravola itself an awful new tyranny has begun, as Razger Bouldergut’s monstrous thugs swagger drunkenly through the streets, playing cruel games with the cowering – and ever diminishing - populace. It is feared that such easy victories and the loot they yield will draw ever more ogres from the east. No-one knows how the wizard lord of Campogrotta intends to control his growing horde, or even if he intends to try. It is commonly assumed he must either be completely insane, perhaps unbalanced by his desire for revenge against the people of Tilea, or that he has ambitions to forge himself an empire encompassing the whole of northern Tilea, or both. Others believe he has retreated into his palace to busy himself with some secret purpose and cares not a jot about the activities of the brutish army who enabled his return to Campogrotta.

In the far south the army of the VMC has marched in strength from Alcente against Warlord Khurnag’s Waagh! They have declared their first battle a great victory (Note: Battle Report to follow soon) and to advertise and celebrate their achievement the Marienburgers have printed a broadside to be distributed by their agents and merchants throughout Tilea.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCBroadsheet1_zps74cb41e9.jpg)
Thank you Ant for forwarding this broadside to me. Victory is indeed sweet, eh?

In Verezzo news of the VMC’s victory first arrived in a muddled report, declaring not that they had defeated one of the Waagh’s forces, but that they had actually defeated the entire Waagh and driven the fleeing greenskins into the sea to drown! Joyous celebrations spread across the city state, and several riots, fuelled by the high spirits, broke out. These were not the only things to ‘break out’: the prisoners held in the famous Le Stonche fortress joined in the merriment, loudly proclaiming that they too should celebrate such good news. Overcoming their inebriated guards, they vanished into the crowds of drunken revellers swarming through the streets.
 
Turmoil of a different kind has erupted in the northern city of Viadaza, where the populace fear the approach of the vampire Duke Alessandro Sforta of Miragliano. If the duke’s horde of abominations were to march south and cross the river Tarano at the bridge of Pontremola then Viadaza would become their next prey. Lord Adolfo has hastily mustered an army of mariners, militia and mercenaries to march from the city to face the foe, and has also commandeered several vessels in the port to increase the size of his fleet. The city has become a dizzy mix of drunken sailors, brawling ogres and swaggering condottiere. In amongst this heady swirl a rather incongruous religious movement has been born, focused around the exiled Miraglianan priest Biagino Bolzano.

Quote
Biagino would be the first to admit he had never expected to become the leader of a crusade. An unlikely agitator, unskilled in rhetoric and unaccustomed as he was to giving speeches to the ragged masses, he had instead begun his work by approaching the city’s Morrite clergy. His intention was, via priestly intervention, to convince Lord Adolfo to do something more than merely defend Viadaza. Biagino sought a much more aggressive response, just as the holy Church of Morr had called for in its decrees, with large armies allying to wipe Duke Alessandro’s undead minions from the face of Tilea. The Morrite church in Viadazza, however, was rather neglected by the authorities - accepted by the ruling classes as simply one of the churches serving the ‘Three gods’ at the pinnacle of the Tilean pantheon. Instead, as in so many city states across Tilea, the Church of Morr was served much better by the common folk. The labouring classes had little need of Myrmidia or Mercopio, but Morr was important to them. Death comes to everyone, and for the poor can be ever present, whether it be through disease, starvation, punishment or violence. The hard nature of their existence put prayers to Morr, for themselves or their loved ones, on the lips of the poor on an almost daily basis.
 
Thus it was that Biagino’s efforts resulted in the birth of a movement, first amongst the his brother priests and then the common people. He spoke of the need to act quickly, assuredly and without division, against a wicked enemy that threatened not just the rule of princes and dukes, replacing one lord with another, but the life of every Tilean. This chimed with the fears of the common people of Viadaza, from the middling merchants, sea artists and craftsmen down to the lowliest of Lord Adolfo’s subjects. Such unswerving conviction won over the priests and brothers, who took up his call. Soon every church and temple to Morr was filled with eager supplicants as the priests’ spread the message and people turned to Morr for salvation.

As he began his second month in the city, Biagino found himself in Garlasco Square, in Viadaza’s eastern quarter, standing beside Gonzalvo Cerci, the local temple’s incumbent. A crowd had gathered, much bigger than could fit within the temple building, a veritable sea of folk. The very old and the very young were there, as well as many a wench and even some ladies, but it was the men of fighting age who Biagino scrutinised. They were the ones who must respond to the church’s call; this battle would be their burden. As Gonzalvo began his sermon, Biagino turned his attention onto him, recognising quickly that the spirit of the famous radical Morrite reformer Sagrannalo was flowing through his brother priest.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BertampBiag2_zpsa6a38eff.jpg)

Gonzalvo’s widened eyes lent his gaze a piercing quality, and although he was tonsured like most of the lesser clergy of Morr, the remainder of his flowing, black hair swished about wildly as he gesticulated and pointed. He raised his hand to the skies when he spoke of Morr, and swept both arms outwards as if to embrace the entire crowd when talking of the people. He began by announcing that even though a great threat loomed over all in Tilea, there was hope, for the god Morr was with them and that they themselves were the vessels which that hope would fill. They were to become the soldiers of Morr, servants of not only the church, but of the greatest of gods, and there was no better god to serve in a war against the undead.

By now the crowd was hooked, and Gonzalvo was in full flight …

“Lord Guglielmo, holy Morr protect him now and forever, was ruled by honour. He rode against the foul foe for the sake of his family name, his own inheritance and to save his noble cousin the Duchess Maria. No-one can fault him for that. But he rode with only a handful of companions, hoping that surprise and speed would grant him victory. Our own efforts will be very different from his doomed quest, for we will be many, ready in both body and soul, and we shall directly serve the great god Morr, yeah, even becoming his brandished blade to smite the corruption that mocks his rightful rule over the dead. More than this, even though no more is required for our eternal reward, we will serve Viadazza by driving the invaders far from its lands, and we will serve families, friends and neighbours all. As blessed warriors of Morr we will face what so many run from, and so fight that which if allowed to flourish would bring eternal ruin to all those we love. It is the only course open to us, the one sure and certain way to save ourselves and serve our god, for if we do not do so then all those we love are doomed to everlasting torment, their souls forced to remain in this world even after death, animating their own rotting corpses in thrall to wicked masters.”

Biagino could see fear on many faces below him in the square. Gonzalvo’s words were unsettling them. Of course they were – these were unsettling times and Gonzalvo was simply telling things as they were. Yet Biagino guessed there was more to it. His brother priest knew exactly how his words would be received. This speech was to be a journey, in which doubts would be addressed, fears removed, until at last the happy destination was reached. At least, that was what Biagino hoped.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BertampBiag3_zps8dc4ae0f.jpg)

“You can be afraid,” continued Gonzalvo. “You should be afraid. But you must use that fear rather than let it rule you. It can fuel a fire in your belly. A fearful warrior can either run or fight. Those who choose run from the undead will never be counted amongst the blessed of Morr, nor can they expect his favour, and as holy Morr turns his loving gaze from them, they run towards everlasting doom, for the foul servants of vampires and necromancers never grow weary, and when the living start to stumble, breathless and aching, the undead draw steadily, inevitably closer. If, on the other hand, you choose to stand and fight, you will do so as holy instruments, as Morr sees full well your fear, understands the heroic effort it takes to master it and make it yours, and he will love you all the more for it. Morr’s love, expressed through his divine blessing, is the greatest weapon a man can employ against the undead – it will hone your blades, steady your aim and strengthen your armour. His will shall inspire our commanders; his presence shall dismay the foe; his power, made manifest through the prayers of his priests, shall unweave the vampire duke’s enchantments. Fear does not make you weak, not if you have the courage of conviction. You are not alone, for look - you have each other; nor are you helpless, because Morr himself guides you, shields you and makes you strong.”

Biagino was impressed. Gonzalvo had a talent for this. Looking at the crowd, who stood silently, awestruck, he wondered whether instead of Sagrannalo it was Morr himself working through his brother priest. The idea was not so crazy. If Biagino, a mere clerk of the church who happened to be lucky enough to escape the fall of Miragliano, could dream of visitations by Morr’s servants, why couldn’t such a man as Gonzalvo, a priest of imposing stature and real authority, momentarily manifest the divinity of Morr?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BertampBiag1_zpsca33230f.jpg)

 “Perhaps you are thinking, ‘But I am unskilled in the art of war. I have never prayed to Myrmidia, swung a sword, or drilled to learn my place in rank and file’? Well I say this to you: Every able bodied man here has strength enough in his arm to lift a blade, and one strike of that blade is all that is required to fell a walking corpse. You do not need the nimble skill of a gladiator or the honed practise of a duellist, simply a strong heart. All you need is to stand resolute before the vileness and stench of the undead, for in so doing, Morr’s blessing will wax strong in you. If you can do this, then the foe cannot win. As a butcher wields his cleaver, a woodsman wields an axe, a fisherman wields a gutting knife, your blades will do their bloody work. And blow by blow the horror will diminish. Morr will laugh with glee and his joy will fill you with bliss. You will be lifted above other men, blessed both in this life and in death. Morr will guide us, Morr will live within us, Morr will reward us.”

A cheer now went up, and Biagino could see that men, mostly the younger sort, were pushing to the fore. They were ready now, in this moment, to join the cause, to fight the fight. Gonzalvo leaned across to him and muttered, “Waste not, want not,” then joined the priests, both those before and amongst the crowd, in greeting, accepting and ushering the willing volunteers in the right direction. Within an hour a new regiment was created. Soon, very soon by the looks of it, an entire army would be ready. Not Lord Adolfo’s army, but Morr’s army.

Strange and intriguing events are occurring in some parts of Tilea. It is said that an ambassadorial party was thrown from the city of Trantio, while another had to escape from gaol in Raverno. Rumours of arcane magical constructions emanate from Portomaggiore: some claim that a clock tower of solid brass is being built, which will suck all bolts of lightning from the sky above the city so that none can harm its citizens; others say that a magical statue has been fashioned that can speak truthful (if cryptic) answers to all questions put to it; and others believe a massive cannon has been forged which has the power to send a 60 lb roundshot of iron more than a mile. Confused accounts spread through the south that an Arabyan army has invaded the peninsula, but it seems the truth is merely that Arabyan mercenaries are still being hired in strength by the boy king. He is supposed to have said in private that Tileans make poor soldiers compared to the men of the southern deserts, although many retort that even an immature boy would not believe such nonsense.

Arabyans, Marienburgers, Ogres, Greenskin corsairs – these are the kind of warriors lured to the realm to fight the battles of the unfolding wars of the north and south. Who is to say that these mercenary armies might not themselves become new enemies?

Praemonitus praemunitus (Forewarned, forearmed)

Note: Now I have all the (private) player end of season reports to write. Mind you, they don't have to include illustrated stories and such like, just facts and figures, and a smattering of rumours and reports.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on November 13, 2013, 12:08:48 AM
(http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2011/12/16/1324051452345/Mark-Lester-as-Oliver-Twi-007.jpg)

I may be the first to ask, but I'd really like a painting tutorial.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 10, 2013, 08:17:52 PM
The Little Waagh!

“We can do it ourselves, smash ‘em good and proper. Us gobs don’t need no Orcs when we gots a mob as big as dis.”

All the goblins nodded or grunted their agreement of Booglebors’s erudite appraisal. Except for Big Boss Gurmliss - he didn’t look convinced.

“We ain’t so big as you fink, Boog. Put it dis way, if Khurnag’s main mob was a mountain den we’re nuffin more’n a rat’s droppin’.”

Gurmliss could see anger on some faces, fear on others. The first probably thought he was insulting them, saying they were not fit for a fight. The latter would be thinking a little bit further and realising that if Gurmliss was suggesting they run from the foe, then surely Warlord Khurnag would make them pay for their cowardice. Well, thought Gurmliss, let them be afraid, but not about the orc warlord’s punishment.

“But,” he went on, “orders is orders. We ‘av to fight ‘cos we was told to mess up anyone trying to sneak up on Khurnag from behind. That don’t mean we wins, that just means we take a few of them down with us.”

Booglebor snorted derisively. “Great speech, boss.”

Gurmliss grinned back at him, two of his fangs curling over his lip. “Yeah, well. Let’s keep what I said between you lot an’ me. Get the rag tags together, all of ya, tell ‘em whatever makes ‘em ‘appy, just make sure they’s ready to move before Clanger rings de bell.”



As forces went, the Little Waagh looked impressive enough – if you were purblind, some distance away, and the sun was in your eyes. There were plenty of them. Two bands of wolf riders came up on the right flank of the battle line, with a pump wagon to their left. The big mobs, carrying short bows and pikes took the centre …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat1_zps4bcd1488.jpg)

… while on the far left the chariots, including Big Boss Gurmliss’ own, and another pumper, rolled forwards.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat2_zps6284c80f.jpg)

Several war machines – basically whichever ones happened to have grease enough on their axles to let the wheels move freely - had been dragged from the town. Clanger led the pike gobs. Of all the goblin mobs present, this was the only one that looked like it might sting. Everyone knew gobbo’s with bows tended to do little more than annoy the foe and pepper the ground with splintered shafts, and that although wolves were mean enough mounts their riders let them down somewhat when it really came to it. But the pike regiment, a moving copse of hafts tipped with vicious iron barbs, had a mean look about it.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat6_zps9ce219c7.jpg)

The trouble was the enemy had pikes too, and they were longer, more ordered and gleamed that little bit sharper. They also had guns, lots of guns, of every kind, big and small: cannons, muskets, pistols. They had horses too, with armoured men on their backs. More than that, they had defences. Not only had they occupied the goblins’ abandoned, rickety watchtower, they’d shifted the stone ruins around to fashion up proper walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat3_zps77334628.jpg)

Gurmliss cursed when he saw the enemy’s true disposition. His useless outriders had reported none of this, merely saying the enemy marched to beat of drums and dressed in matching colours. They had not lied, but they had hardly gone out of their way to impart the important stuff. There were more horsemen on the field than wolf-riders, which did not bode well at all, considering that numbers was usually the only thing gobbos had going for them. One band of riders were led by a man with brighter armour than the rest, sporting an orange sash and sat atop a grey mount.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat4_zps0472b43a.jpg)

Squinting, Gurmliss shielded the sun from his eyes and studied the man. He seemed to be in conversation with the fellow next to him, and both were clutching goblets from which they sipped, as if the battle were to be nothing more than a sporting hunt. Gurmliss fumed – he would like to take that goblet and stuff it down the man’s throat. Here he was, very likely about to die because he was more afraid of Khurnag than these men, and there they supped wine as if they were on a picnic.

Looking along the lines, Gurmliss strained to learn what else he could. The foe’s bronze-barrelled field pieces gleamed, while their orderly soldiers manned the defences. It was plain that the foe was simply going to wait for the goblins to advance. Behind the defenders he could just make out their camp – umpteen mules laden with supplies, which meant they no doubt had plenty of the noisome black powder that fuelled their guns.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat5_zpsa6aee2ea.jpg)

Was nothing going to go his way today?

A creaking and clattering sound broke his miserable reverie, and he glanced to his left to see the pump wagon picking up its pace. Bugger it, he thought, and lifted his hand to give the signal to advance. Might as well see the day through. Maybe the enemy’s powder was wet? Maybe their men were untrained youths? Maybe Khurnag would forgive him if he ran away after the first volley? Aye, and maybe the snotlings on the pump wagon were proofed against cannonball?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat7_zpsa8c654d8.jpg)

As the main bodies shuffled about in an attempt to sort their ranks and files before they joined in the advance, far to the right the two bands of wolf-riders separated to pass by either side of the hovel before them …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat8_zpsbb782dac.jpg)

… while bold as brass one of the enemy horse regiments trotted forwards as if the goblin pikes and chariots weren’t even there, clutching pistols in their raised hands in a gesture at once threatening yet strangely delicate.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat9_zps14f917f9.jpg)

The flag mounted on the back of Gurmliss’ chariot snapped in a sudden gust of wind, and Gurmliss muttered “Go on den!” to his chariot driver.

……………

All the enemy’s riders amongst had begun moving up, their knights staying together and coming round the hovel to counter the wolf-riders’ surprisingly bold advance.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat10_zpseb9dda21.jpg)

Then, before a single foot-slogging goblin had begun to march, a magical blast of burning energy came spurting out of the upper reaches of the tower, proving the foe had brought wizards too. The enchanted flames wreathed the pump wagon nearest the chariots, spilling umpteen squealing snotlings from it, some trailing smoke as they staggered about in agony, several bursting like gooseberries roasting on a griddle. It was, even for goblins who usually derive cruel amusement from such sights, a horribly dismaying start to the battle. Both the chariots beside Gurmliss’s turned and fled, leaving Gurmliss alone out on the left flank apart from the stone thrower, the crew of which had apparently failed to notice the pump wagon’s awful demise due to their heated squabbling over who got to pull the lever and so launch the first boulder.


(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat11_zpse28e22dd.jpg)

Then came the rolling thunder of the enemy’s guns, beginning with a ripple of staggered cracks, then melding into a roaring blast punctuated by the even louder retorts of the cannons. As a consequence, a lot of lead was hurled into the wolfriders, until only two remained – Booglebor and his standard bearer.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat12b_zpsa33bbd32.jpg)

Booglebor turned to look at his last warrior. “Oh good, you gots de flag den?”

The goblin, hunched and cowering behind his heavy round shield, the wolf-pack’s standard tucked between his shield and shoulder, was stunned by what had just happened. Nevertheless, he nodded.

“Oh, dat’s good,” said Booglebor, his sarcastic tone not in the least bit subtle. “That’ll be bloomin’ useful now there’s no bloomin’ pack left to follow it.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat12_zps74c8217d.jpg)

The goblin grimaced foolishly, then pointed forwards with his hooked blade. “Boss, look. We is gubbed.”

Booglebor laughed maniacally. “Oh, you noticed! Clever git.” Quickly balancing the range of almost certainly suicidal options available to him, he chose the only one he thought might actually have a chance of keeping him alive. Spurring his shaggy furred wolf he twisted its head with his reigns. “Follow me!” he shouted, and sped off around the knights’ flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat14_zpsc3e85494.jpg)

As he did so, the other wolf-pack came around the hovel towards the knights’ rear. Gurmliss wasn’t in the mood to sneak about looking for the enemy’s rear, and drove his chariot hard and fast at the pistol-bearing riders ahead of him. They simply trotted away as if he were some mild annoyance, like a bad smell they wished to stay further away from. The rest of Gurmliss’ Little Waagh marched, shuffled, and sent magic, arrows and bolts at the foe. Nothing came of their efforts. The enemy seemed utterly unharmed.

Next to the goblin archers the second pump wagon trundled along, powered by the frantic pumping of two snotlings called Eeriwig and Mudbelly.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat15b_zpsb66fa1e8.jpg)

The machine was a surprisingly robust design, almost sleek in its shape, sporting a very vicious set of spiky rollers and blades powered by the same set of pumping bars that propelled it.

“Faster,” ordered Mudbelly. “Faster an’ faster.”

Eeriwig grunted acknowledgement and pumped harder than ever before, the bars even lifting him a little off the floor of the machine on the upstroke. “S’good. Dat’s good,” said Mudbelly. Eeriwig grinned, sweat dripping from the end of his sharp nose while spittle and snot conjoined and congealed upon his lips. In between grunts he began issuing giggles and squeaks.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat15c_zps52bef105.jpg)

At that very same moment, across the space that still divided the two forces, an artillery officer of the VMC was pointing at a spot a little ahead of the pump wagon with his short-sword. The piece he commanded had the company's colours of blue and orange painted merrily on its wheels, while its crew, veteran professional soldiers of several campaigns, wore matching red coats.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat13_zps0e55f133.jpg)

The piece’s gunner and matrosses lifted the rear of the gun and swung it around to aim exactly where indicated. Within moments the match had been applied, the gun had fired and 9 lb of iron shot bounced right through the speeding, snotling contraption, tearing the pumping mechanism right out, along with Eeriwig who failed to let go of the bars, while one of the snapped chains swung violently around to cut Mudbelly in two. The shattered wagon slowed to a halt. Weeks later, one goblin archer (one of the few to survive the battle) would swear that Eeriwig was still pumping even as he flew through the air, leaving a splattering trail of blood and snot behind him!

It was not a cannon ball that did for Big Boss Gurmliss, but more magic. Once again magical fire lashed out from the eyes of the wizard atop the tower to sear the fur off the two wolves drawing Gurmliss's chariot. Howling pathetically they fell to the ground unable to roll and the chariot tipped over throwing Gurmliss to the ground. He picked himself up and limped over to a little copse of trees nearby. There he stopped, and carrying his unsheathed blade across his mailed shoulder, he glowered quite helplessly at the foe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat18_zps8222fc4b.jpg)[/URL]

Nothing unexpected had happened. In fact, he was mildly surprised that he was alive and might actually still be so tomorrow too. It was not anger at his misfortune that filled him, but malice towards the foe. Let them have their pathetic victory, he fumed. Wait ‘til they meet the big boys. They’ll find out quick enough then what Greenskins can do. Killing gobbos, snots and scraggy wolves is one thing, but orcs and boars and giants is another. He did not run, but rather waited and watched – if he was going to face Khurnag he would at least give the most accurate report he could of the foe. Khurnag was mighty and cruel, but he was no fool. He would know from Gurmliss’ report that a rag tag petty force of goblins was no match for this foe. But he would also learn all about the foe’s composition, and so could plan and prepare how exactly he was going to tear them to pieces.

In the centre of the field, and quite possibly still ignorant of the hopelessness of their position, the two main regiments of goblins began to advance a little quicker.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat19_zpse7960b75.jpg)

Perhaps it was sheer numbers that so clouded their judgement, or their memories of victories serving as merely one small part of Khurnag’s Great Waagh? Whatever, they advanced right at the muzzles of the enemy massed guns.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat16_zps306de70f.jpg)

The VMC’s knights had reformed in a most professional manner and now trotted towards the last surviving wolf-pack.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat17_zpsb8c7354c.jpg)

Just as they arrived, with the goblins bemused as to why the heavily armoured foe was not charging, they unleashed a hail of pistol balls and thus felled almost half of the greenskins. More than a little dismayed that the foe could do such harm against them without even unsheathing blades, the surviving goblins turned and fled the field for good. Once again the cuirassier’s simply reformed, turned and set off back towards the centre of the field.

The pike goblins were now beginning to receive casualties as the foe stopped shooting at pump wagons and wolf packs and turned their attention on the sluggardly brace of regiments in the midst of the otherwise shattered goblin line.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat20_zps3ef63e6d.jpg)

The cuirassiers charged headlong into the shortbows, the countershot of arrows bouncing from the steel plates of their lobster-like armour.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat21_zps0cdc55f8.jpg)

Which left the pike goblins all alone in the advance towards the enemy defences.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat22_zps053c18ee.jpg)

Cannons, muskets and pistols now all blasted almost as one, and tore the pike-goblins apart. What few remained fled away pell-mell. From atop a little mound of rocks Gurmliss watched them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat23_zpsd44c5667.jpg)

Then his attention was caught by the blaring of hunting horns to his right and he turned to see the shortbow goblins being trodden under the hooves of the foes heavy horses as they too ran.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/LittleWaaghBat24_zpsb8140eae.jpg)

Satisfied that there was no more to see, and happy in the knowledge that he was now merely one greenskin amongst the many pouring from the field, Gurmliss hopped down from the rocks to join the general flight.



Thus ended the battle which the VMC went on to describe as their ‘Glorious Victory’ against a ‘foul horde’ serving ‘dark gods’.

...

Thank you to Ant (or 'Uryens' to those on this forum) the VMC player for bringing his army to the field. And thanks to his good wife for volunteering to command the goblins. I think she learned a lesson regarding just how useless gobs can be - even when we all forgot to apply animosity! Perhaps some failed animosity rolls might have hampered the goblins, but tbh, it is hard to see how they could have done any worse. After casualty recovery rules were applied, Ant lost merely one knight and 3 handgunners. Not bad. Some might indeed say 'glorious'!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on December 11, 2013, 11:33:55 AM
I must point out in the name of fairness - it's part of a campaign and I had been able to select the ground I fought on and had about 750 more points than the gobbos.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 11, 2013, 11:47:05 AM
Yes, and those sort of games can be the best fun! It wasn't impossible for the goblins to weaken you.

Notice the doom laden references to the might of Khurnag's 'Great Waagh'? Do you think I am trying to worry the players?

Campaigns are, IMO, the most fun way to play WFB. You enjoyed the game, I think, as much as you would have done against an equally balanced opponent. You even made it a bit harder for yourself (not deliberately) by forgetting to place several of the regiments that were actually with your VMC army!

You got the ground you wanted by adopting strategy - luring the goblins from the town with a feint, after choosing a good spot at which to deploy. Oh, and you got lucky, for there was a good spot to be had. If I had rolled higher numbers for the NPC force's cleverness of response, they might have come up with some good strategies too. Goblins can be snaky and cunning - even if this lot weren't. Remember that they did not come at first (laziness on their part) and you could have moved away and thus fought in the open, but you stuck to your plan and it paid off.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on December 11, 2013, 07:24:28 PM
True
I am brilliant after all  :icon_biggrin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 11, 2013, 10:52:34 PM
yes, you're brilliant. If you wanna write a piece for this thread that would be brilliant too!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 15, 2013, 10:08:19 AM
(They don't all need pictures, do they?)


Miracolo a Viadazza

“She has come, I tell you brother, it was her,” insisted Gonzalvo. He seemed hurt that Biagino might doubt him.

“But there have been so many refugees, noble and common,” countered Biagino. “Are you sure it was not simply a lady affecting Ebinan fashions?”

“I saw her face. People cried her name and she acknowledged them.”

Biagino still found it hard to believe. “Did she come alone? Was she injured? Was she on foot?”

“She rode upon a fierce looking horse, a fighting horse without doubt, and although her cloak was spattered in mud, her hair dishevelled, she looked well enough. She had two soldiers with her, wearing the livery of Ebino, one on foot the other riding a nag.”

“That is all that remains of her army?”

“Perhaps. They were not palace guard, nor officers by the look of them. Rather they were weathered and hard looking men, with the cold, cruel eyes of those who had seen too many battles. Maybe they were the last survivors of a company, the rest dying to keep the duchess safe?”

“Where is she now?”

“She was met by several of Lord Adolfo’s courtiers, then escorted to the palace. They had a company of brutes with them who pushed through the crowd.”

Biagino had to admit this all sounded convincing. The Duchess Maria had been missing for nigh upon two months, and in the second month it had become generally presumed she must have been killed after her flight from the battle before outside her city of Ebino. Now it seemed that those few who had claimed she was hiding, waiting until it was safe to continue her journey, had been right. Sadly her enforced delay meant that it was far too late to gather a relief force to save her city – Ebino had fallen to the undead weeks ago.

Momentarily distracted by his thoughts, he suddenly noticed Gonzalvo watching him intently.

“So,” said Gonzalvo, “Now she is here, will she lead our crusade?”

“Lead the crusade?”

“With her at our head surely even those uninspired by faith in Morr will join us? She is the rightful ruler of Ebino, and by inheritance perhaps of Miragliano, and could reward all who help her recover her realm. Mercenaries like to know they will be paid in gold and silver in the here and now, rather than with Morr’s favour in the hereafter.”

“I am not sure she is a general, nor even a soldier,” Biagino answered. “But she is very definitely a noble ruler. She might not lead us in battle, but in other ways, perhaps yes. At least, and it would be no little thing, she might be induced to assist our raising of an army. The peasants, labourers and seamen we have now are keen enough, but they are neither well armed nor skilled in warfare. If our army is to win victories, it does need seasoning with real fighters. But … best not get ahead of ourselves.”

Gonzalvo frowned. “Brother Biagini, we must act quickly. The enemy can only grow stronger with time.”

“Oh, we must indeed act as quickly as possible. What I meant was we cannot appear to be commanding her, nor rushing her. We should humbly seek an audience with her, politely present our case. She has Sforta blood and was the ruler of her own city – she must not think we are commanding her, making demands. We must offer ourselves to her as friends and servants, giving her hope, whilst explaining that we need her help – but doing so in such a way that does not make our cause appear weak.”

“That, brother, seems to me to be entirely possible. We can say we’ve already begun the work of raising an army, she might aid us by speeding up the process, ensuring that the army is ready soon enough to prevent the wicked vampire duke from taking too many more lives.”

“That sort of thing, yes. But tread gently throughout.”

……….

The next day

The two of them had returned in silence. Everyone on the streets had made way for them, either because they knew them and respected them, or because they could see they were priests of Morr and in a foul mood. Once back at their lodgings in the Garlasco Temple, they both threw themselves into high backed chairs at the table. Both knew they must talk even though the words would be difficult. Finally, it was Biagino who broke the silence.

“Does she think our cause is not just? Does she not believe that we are inspired by Morr. I could have unleashed his wrath in that very chamber.”

Gonzalvo had never seen his brother priest so angry. “You could have, but thankfully did not. They would all have thought us no more than practitioners of dark magic.”

“They had no respect for us anyway. Lord Adolfo looked at us with barely concealed contempt, as if we were mere rabble rousers. I am surprised he did not have us arrested there and then.”

“We have the duchess to thank for that.”

“And for nothing else.” His was what most vexed Biagino, that the duchess should offer them so little support. He had expected little better from Lord Adolfo, who was his father’s son. From the start of Biagino’s preaching, throughout the growth of the Morrite movement and up to the birth of the army, Lord Adolfo had offered no support – in fact only just stopping short of putting them down. His militia had dispersed several of the spontaneous gatherings, those unsanctioned by the church of Morr. His marines had been implicated in the killing of four peasant crusaders. Lord Adolfo had two of them hanged for the crime, but it was generally held that this was a mere token punishment to satisfy the priests, and that the executed men were chosen due to more to Adolfo’s dislike of them than their actual guilt.

The duchess had treated the priests better, yet hers was a cold civility. She addressed them correctly, listened politely, little else. She offered them the bare minimum of respect required, as if listening to them was simply a duty of her office. At first Biagino had thought it was a distracted state of mind born of her dreadful loss, the trials and tribulations of her flight. As time went by, however, he changed his mind. Her haughty manner, her aloofness, were deep-rooted, not merely an affectation to hide a traumatised state of mind.

“Perhaps if we had spoken to her before Lord Adolfo and her cronies,” said Gonzalvo, as if he had been reading Biagino’s mind. “I think he must have painted a sorry picture of our crusade. He might not have been bold enough to slander Morr in her presence, but he could belittle our army as nothing more than a mob. He’s said as much in public on more than one occasion.”

“That much is certain,” agreed Biagino. “I believe she does want to fight, just not by our side.”

“She did say we could fight under the standard of Miragliano.”

“No, we said we would fight under the standard of Miragliano, in her service, and she granted us that wish. Nothing more, just: ‘Take the standard and go. I have a more important duty elsewhere.’”

“Not in those words,” countered Gonzalvo.

“No, she put it more politely. She was politic throughout. Yet she meant that. We would go and begin our petty crusade, then she would bring a real army and complete the work.”

They fell silent again. After a little while Gonzalvo, in a somewhat dejected tone, asked, “So, what do we do now?” He sounded nothing like the firebrand priest who had delivered stirring sermons to the crowds.

“We begin our crusade,” answered Biagino. “As Morr wishes and Tilea needs. We make our army as fit for war as we can make it. If she brings an army, well and good. If not, we fight that bit harder.”

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 06, 2014, 12:07:27 AM
Bad Timing, Bad Intelligence and Bad Behaviour.

Prologue

Upon the Eastern Coast of Tilea

Sea boss Scarback’s Greenskin Corsairs had reached the eastern coast of Tilea, causing surprisingly little trouble en route. There they halted, for although they had been employed to cause difficulties for a certain force in that region, Scarback wanted to know that he had a means of escape should such prove necessary. His was not a big force, and he had no intention of biting off more than he could chew – or at least if he did he wanted to be able to spit it out before it choked him and leg it! Thus it was he ordered a defensive compound constructed to protect his little force while the somewhat more time consuming labour of repairing several wrecked vessels they had discovered on the beach was begun. Once he had seaworthy boats (at least seaworthy in an orc’s opinion), then he would start scouting about for ways to cause trouble.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hafdi was not having the best of days. It seemed to him that he was the only one doing hard work. Since the first light of dawn he had been lugging timbers from wrecks on the beach up to where Sea Boss Scarback wanted his fort built. His legs ached, his back even more, and he had more splinters in his arms than he could count (more than six, then).

Despite the fact he was an orc, Hafdi did not consider himself foolish (whatever Toggler said). On first being ordered upon the task it had occurred to him almost straight away that they should load their wagon with the timbers, then he and Toggler could lug it together up from the dunes and unload it at the fort. That way they would only need to make the climb four or five times. But Toggler, by his own admission amply imbued with the renowned cunning of a goblin, had pointed out that pulling wagon loads of timber up such a slope would be back-breaking work, whereas hefting one plank up there was hardly worse than carrying a couple of half-pikes. At the time Hafdi could see no fault with this argument, and so had begun the labour with enthusiasm and a friendly slap from Toggler.

It was well past noon, and having hauled more than a dozen planks in succession up the slope, a flaw was becoming apparent in Toggler’s argument. Every time Hafdi descended back to the dunes he was welcomed by the sight of his goblin mate, hammer and adze in hand, daintily hacking another timber off the wrecked ship. The first few times, Hafdi merely pondered why it was he was doing all the lugging while Toggler got to stay put down here. Then he became suspicious that Toggler’s planks seemed every time to fall away from the wrecks just at the moment he returned.

Now, about to deliver his fifteenth plank to the labouring gobbos at the fort …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenSkinCorsNewCamp1_zps58c138a2.jpg)

… an idea was forming in his amply boned head: Toggler was most likely sitting around idle nearly all the time, only getting off his behind as Hafdi returned from each round trip, jumping up to knock another plank off from the wreck. Looking busy, but only when he had to - only when Hafdi was there. Well, Hafdi thought, I isn’t carryin’ any more plankies. When I gets back we’ll play ‘swapsies’, an’ den I gets to tip-tap at the wreck while Toggler can drag his lazy lump up and down this ‘ere hill.”

The boys up here had been busy, it seemed, as the little row of stakes had doubled in length since Hafdi’s last visit. The three greenskins involved were arguing  loudly over something or other (no surprise there). Hafdi smiled. I’ll get loud wiv dat Toggler, he thought. I’ll shout me ‘ead off. Den when he comes up wiv some sort of cleverness to make me do all de work, I’ll not hear it. His words can’t trick me if I don’t know what he says.

The three labourers busy with the stakes consisted of two goblins and their stunted orc bully (the latter being a greenskin sort of supervisor). One goblin, Stenchel, had scooped dirt to form little holes, into each of which he had dropped a stake. The orc, Edbat, had proved willing to help with the work, but in a very minimal way, simply holding the stakes in place while the biggest goblin, Gooflig, hefted a large hammer to bash the stakes and drive them into the ground. Things had been going relatively well, until Gooflig missed the stake entirely on his last swipe. The hammer’s head slid down the side of the stake and thumped into the ground.

“Oy!” shouted Edbat. “You watch it wiv dat ‘ammer’. If you is hitting me I’ll ‘ave yer guts fer garters.”

“’Tain’t my fault, see,” said Gooflig, grinning as he always seemed to do. “Me hands are gettin’ all sweaty, and the hammer all slippery as a consequential. Just stand back a bit further an’ you’ll be alright.”

Edbat stepped away, leaving only one hand holding the stake, and placed the other on his helmeted head. Seeing this, the other goblin, Stenchel, placed his hands upon his own red-hooded head. Gooflig stopped for a moment and glared at the other two.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenSkinCorsNewCamp2_zps47a2b0ab.jpg)

“Watcha think yer doin’?” he demanded.

Edbat answered without removing his hand from his helmet. “If yer feeling slippy I don’t wants you bashing my ‘ead in.”

“Me neevor,” said Stenchel.

Gooflig could not stifle the spluttering laugh that burst through his clenched teeth. “So, let me get this straight, Edbat. In order to prevent me batting your head,” (here he winked at Stenchel) “which is decorated so nicely with a helmet, you put yer hand on yer helmet, meaning I’ll bash yer hand instead.”

Edbat glared menacingly at Gooflig. “You’d better not, not if you know what’s good fer ya”

“Meanwhile you, Stenchel,” added Gooflig, his attention shifting to the red-hooded goblin, “are so worried that my hammer might somehow magically extend to five times its length and so knock you on the noddle, that you slap two hands on your own bonce. Am I right?”

“Erm,” said Stenchel. Before he could add anything to his rather uninformative answer, Edbat butted in.

“Just get on wiv it, Gooflig. No silly business, no sweaty mistakes. ‘Cos if you do, I’ll use you as a stake an' see whether me own hands gets sweaty or not.”

“Alright,” said Gooflig, still grinning. “Keep yer hair on.”

Edbat glowered at him, half aware that there was some sort of mockery involved in Gooflig’s last comment, but too distracted by the thumping of the hammer to get his thoughts in order.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: May interest some of you to know that I tried a new sort of set up for these little photos. I fashioned a lump of plasticine into some ground, stuffed the stakes in, cut squares so the figures’ bases would slot in leaving the base tops flush with the apparent ground, then sprinkled flock over everything before brushing it off the actual figures. After placing some blue card and hills,  took the photos.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GreenSkinCorsNewCamp3_zps19c3687c.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: errantgamer on January 09, 2014, 02:39:09 AM
Marvellous stuff, Padre! This is the kind of campaign that makes you want to start one yourself, if you hadn't already. It's really neat to see how the interplay between all the different factions and mercenaries makes a great story. The Tilean focus -- something you don't normally see! -- is just the icing on the cake.

Your effort in writing this up is much appreciated (and you're doing it really well; I love the amount of pictures you give us).

http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/Smileys/phpBB/beer.gif
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: fauthsie on January 10, 2014, 07:27:53 PM
Just caught up on this! Great stuff!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 14, 2014, 08:41:23 PM
Miserere Mei, Morr

The Morrite Lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini, had finally yielded to the inevitable. Until the previous week he had scrupulously avoided giving any encouragement, open or private, to Biagino and the other lesser priests of Morr who were preaching the crusade. Now, however, the situation had gone beyond mere sermons and become a very real movement - an actual army was taking shape - and Lector Bernado had come to call upon Morr’s blessing on the enterprise, to hear the soldiers make their oath of obedience, even to offer himself as their spiritual general. Biagino and the other priests were very happy to have him. As the highest ranking Morrite clergyman in the city state they were already legally his servants, so his adoption of command seemed to put the world to right again.

Lector Bernado’s earlier reluctance to join the crusade had perplexed Biagino considerably. He could understand why Viadaza’s ruler, Lord Adolfo, the tyrannical son of an equally tyrannical father, might refuse to support the cause. It was in Adolfo’s nature to suspect all popular movements, born of his upbringing, his noble arrogance and his desire to be the only true power in his city. There were no such excuses for Lector Bernado. For months now the Church of Morr had been preaching just such a crusade, Arch-Lector Calictus II having issuing not one but two proclamations from Remas calling upon all Tileans to muster and fight the evil power growing in the north. Calictus even named Viadaza in the second proclamation. And still Lector Bernado, the highest ranking Morrite in the city, had kept his distance, preferring to attend upon Lord Adolfo, busying himself with petty affairs and courtly, ceremonial duties.

Still, Biagino was pleased to think, Morr has finally convinced him to join us, and at last we can expect to receive the monies and support necessary to march out upon campaign and commit a true force to the field of the battle.

Lector Bernado began by delivering a long sermon in which he praised the god Morr and those who served him in almost every conceivable way. He referred liberally to the two proclamations (the very same he had earlier been so quiet about), and argued convincingly as to why this Viadazan army was filled with exactly the sort of men who Morr would favour in battle. It was not as rousing a speech as those Father Gonzalvo had delivered in several city squares, but the soldiers cheered anyway, and in all the right places. Finally the Lector has reached the part where the soldiers were to swear their oath. A young lad stepped from the ranks and beat a peel on his drum to signal in a satisfactorily military manner that the moment had come, while one of the Lector’s acolytes stood before him with an open book in hand, holding it so that he could glance at the page to read the words.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade2_zps7cdd0d3c.jpg)

First he read the oath in its entirety: “You shall swear by the blessed god Morr and all the lawful gods, and by all you hold dear in this world, that you will serve as soldiers in this righteous army upon this holy quest, obeying all civil command, respecting authority both military and priestly, fighting boldly, shirking no duties, and furthermore that you shall not desist from the execution thereof until the chief commanders shall give you leave.”

The acolyte then stepped away and another Morrite priest began to shout the oath in manageable chunks so that the gathered soldiers could repeat the words …

“I swear by the blessed god Morr …”

The assembled soldiers roared their repetition.

“And by all the gods …”

Etc.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade1_zps0fe35e24.jpg)

Biagino had studied the army as it assembled. This particular gathering consisted only of Viadazans. It did not include the regiment of Arrabiatti horsemen or the large company of condottieri crossbowmen, paid for by the voluntary contributions that had poured in from the vast throng unfit for service due to age, sex or infirmity, yet who wanted to show their commitment to Morr’s cause. Of course there was also the very valid fear concerning the possibility that their home might be city conquered and destroyed by the nightmarish legion under the vampire duke’s command.

The crusaders had regimented themselves into several bodies, each formed into ranks and files as best they could, some doing so much better than others. They were arrayed around an ancient, refurbished carroccio, which already carried holy, Morrite relics intended to imbue the crusading soldiers with religiously inspired courage, and indeed there seemed to be a tangible aura all about the wagon, like that which pervades the mystical environs of holy shrines at twilight – a crepuscular and magical sensation.

Officers of the city’s militia had discovered an old clause in the regulations which allowed them to provide for the defence of their city if the ruler was incapacitated and no deputy duly appointed. In a bold move, the priests declared that Lord Adolfo was indeed incapacitated by his immersion in other affairs, and so a good portion of the militia had dared to muster – mostly those bold enough to go along with such a dangerous political move. Biagino saw this as no bad thing, for it was the boldest men he wanted in the army. Luckily, Lord Adolfo had not responded to the audacious legal usurpation of his command over these part-time soldiers, perhaps because he himself did not think them fit for purpose, having his own professional guards aplenty, or perhaps because he did not want to push such a large and armed mob of citizens into outright civil unrest, even rebellion. Either way, when they left the city to face the foe, he would not longer be troubled by them.

The militia, armed with pikes, made a colourful sight. Some upon the front rank and the flanking files even sported a smattering of armour.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade5_zps6c3ada37.jpg)

A large band of dockworkers and seafarers had also joined the cause. Bristling with a wide array of weapons, from curved blades to pistols, blunderbusses to axes, even throwing knives, they certainly looked like they could deliver a torrent of stinging blows. Biagino did not think they were much like soldiers, but he convinced himself this was of no importance, at least not if they proved to be brave, loyal and good scrappers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade4_zpsfeb27197.jpg)

The noblest volunteers were a small body of knights, each a son of one of the ever dwindling noble Tilean families of Viadaza. Encased in plate armour, they sported their own heraldic devices, with the Crusade’s Morrite emblem upon their banner.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade7_zpsd40cdb4f.jpg)

There was a second body of militia – at least, militia of a sort. Insufficient pikes or halberds had yet been acquired to equip them, and the majority had very little in the way of experience, having drilled only for a short time, gaining a proficiency sufficient to march in relative order into the square and take their place, but to do little else. In an attempt to bolster their spirits, and make them feel as if they were just as much a part of the army as the rest, several of the lesser priests of Morr had taken to drilling and marching with them. One such priest, Father Antonello, had taken on his new military duties with gusto, and Biagino raised his eyebrows when he saw that even as the oath was being read the ‘fighting father’ (as he had become known) had raised his blade aloft as if the enemy were there before them at this very instant.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade6_zps157f20b7.jpg)

Bravo, thought Biagino, smiling. That’s the spirit. Then the smile left his face as he imagined Father Antonello, with his sandaled feet and his grey, woollen habit, facing the animated horror of the living dead. Perhaps, he worried silently, ‘spirit’ isn’t enough? Perhaps the wickedness of Vampires is too strong for an army of labourers and citizens to defeat?

He did not allow this sudden darkening of his thoughts to show upon his face, for he had been fighting such doubts for some time and was well practised in their concealment. The most obvious thing the crusaders lacked was Lord Adolfo’s professional soldiers: his numerous men-at-arms, his famed marines with their long barrelled muskets; his hulking ogres who spent peacetime guarding warehouses and palazzos; his train of artillery, commanded by some of the most experienced gunners in Tilea. Some elements of Lord Adolfo’s forces would not be missed, such as the foul half-orcs who crewed half a dozen of his fighting galleys, or the privateer greenskins he had hired on several occasions in the past to prey upon the shipping of rival city states. Notwithstanding these latter elements, the former would have vastly improved the punching power of the crusading army, not just through numbers alone, but because experienced soldiers and marines were much more likely to stand their ground against the horrors the Duke had under his command.

As Biagino and Gonzalvo had finally come to accept during their miserable audience with the Duchess Maria, Lord Adolfo really was entirely uninterested in supporting them. He had not formally protested against the crusaders’ cause, nor put overt legal or financial obstacles in their way, for to do so would place him in direct opposition to the Arch-Lector of Morr’s proclamations (if not, at the time, those of the Lector of Viadaza). But he had no made active effort at all to assist the mustering crusaders, indeed he had hindered at least some of the first gatherings as if they were nothing more than illegal assemblies by the dregs of the city. He had contributed not one spoonful of powder, not one pike head, not one horse’s shoe nor a single nail. The militia regiment of pikemen was paid for with the religiously inspired contributions of rich merchants and respectable citizens, who had also encouraged their sons, servants and neighbours to muster despite no order from Lord Adolfo. Even the silk for the flags was gifted by a Cathayan merchant based in the city. Lord Adolfo’s utter lack of support, along with his public comments and rumoured slanders at court, had made it clear that he, commander of the ‘true’ army of Viadaza in defence of the city, believed he had no use at all for a rabble of loutish labourers and citizen zealots.

Thoughts of the meeting with Lord Adolfo and the duchess stirred Biagino’s memory of a nightmare that had tormented him in the darkest hour of the previous night. In the dream he was once again petitioning the duchess, though this time her demeanour was somewhat disturbing. She scrutinised him with cold malice in her eyes, every trace of the gentle respect born of her nobility gone. When he spoke, she smirked cruelly. When he pleaded, she laughed mockingly. Lord Adolfo sat gazing at her all the while, quite ignoring Biagino. It was obvious he wanted her, perhaps as a wife, perhaps merely to satisfy his base lusts? The more Lord Adolfo stared, the more his face took on the semblance of an orc – his teeth becoming crooked and overlarge, his eyes reddening in the shadow of a bulging, misshapen brow. As Biagino’s faltering attempts at persuasion grew more feeble, Lord Adolfo, saliva dripping from his cracked and curled bottom lip, simply stared and stared some more. Then, when Biagino’s words finally dried up, just like they had in the waking world meeting, the duchess did not thank him for his concern and dismiss him politely – as she had done in the real meeting - instead she launched into a tirade of abuse, listing his sins (both old and recent), his many faults and frequent mistakes, even his most private failings, to show that he was unworthy, too sinful to serve a god, too weak to command men, to foolish to survive the onslaught of Miragliano. As her voice turned into a shriek, unpleasantly counter-pointed by Lord Adolfo’s grunts and groans, Biagino had fallen from the dream to arrive sweating and shivering in his bed.

He shook his head, breathed deep, then joined in the last words of the oath,

“… until the chief commanders shall give you leave.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MorrCrusade3_zpsc09451d7.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 20, 2014, 10:16:58 PM
Heresy?

A letter .....

This to the Most Revered and Holy Arch Lector Calictus II, sent from Pavona

Before I make known what I have to tell, I wish to profess my complete loyalty to the Holy Church of Morr and the Arch Lector Calictus II. I remain the church’s most humble and sincere servant and wish no one to believe that I could ever harbour any schismatical tendencies nor heretical beliefs. I aim only to report what is being preached and promulgated, professedly in the name of holy Morr, by the priests and brothers who serve the Pavonan Lector, Mauro Capolicchio, and the civil officers who serve Duke Guidobaldo. I gain no satisfaction from what I have to report, only from the fact that I am able to reveal unto you the true state of affairs here in Pavona. I wish only to appraise you of how things currently stand so that you may act in light of certain knowledge rather than relying solely upon muddled rumours and third or fourth-hand accounts.

The heretical movement here in Pavona began innocuously enough with the growth in adoration of holy Morr. Increasing numbers of Pavonans dedicated themselves to his praise, devoting more hours each day to this worship, while others took to scourging themselves to wash away the stain of unworthy thoughts and desires. They flocked to his temples on holy days, the gathered crowds swelling to such a size that those who came late could not even enter such was the press of people bursting from the doors.

If one had enquired as to why such a new and holy fervour had gripped the citizens, most honest men would have answered that it resulted from the fears conjured in the common mind by the several threats presented by the vile Vampire Duke, Khurnag’s Waagh and the Brutes of Campogrotta. Others, more proud than fearful, may have declared that such devotion was only right and proper amongst Morr’s favoured city and its blessed inhabitants. In light of my own experience, I would add that there was (and remains) also the need to show conformity to the will of the city’s rulers. None can hope to prosper in Pavona if they are not outwardly and firmly Morrite. Apprentices are examined upon the articles of their faith, servants instructed daily, and before admittance to the city all foreigners must be interrogated to discover if they possess the necessary understanding of the truths of Morr. All of which would be to the good - such that Pavona could be considered a model state that all of Tilea should aspire to emulate – if it had gone no further.

Yet this was only the beginning. What could have indeed been the best example of holy devotion grew into something more. Duke Guidobaldo, who all Pavonans look to please in hope of favour, let his own theological thoughts be known. He declared how he saw the heavenly realm as macrocosm to our earthly microcosm, which one might suppose is a commonly held and respected belief: how the gods rule over their heavenly domains like rulers govern their states here within the earthly realm. More accurately, however, Duke Guidobaldo likened heaven to a perfect form which his own city state mirrored, if imperfectly. He declared himself to be the worldly equivalent of Morr, and his officers a reflection of the other gods. Both gods and officers wielded power over their own domains, but all bowed to the authority of their rightful lords. As Pavonans bowed to him, the Duke declared that the gods bowed to Morr.

When this was met with barely concealed confusion, he explained his thinking further, and in so doing, re-awakened an ancient heresy. The Morrite Lector of Pavona, who ought to have guided the Duke as to the church’s divinely inspired teachings concerning the heavenly pantheon and its myriad spheres, each one being a particular god’s domain, each one reflected (for good or bad) in the world, instead supported the Duke’s pronouncements. Furthermore, the Lector took it upon himself to search out precedents in tomes both canonical and apocryphal, until he and his most scholarly priests could present a case that seemed to support the Duke’s beliefs completely. This so satisfied Duke Guidobaldo that he proudly declared his priests to be the most enlightened in the world and commanded them to instruct his people in the truth. “Preach and teach!” he cried. “Mine own people shall know the full glory of Morr.”

And so it was that the people of Pavona came to see the heavenly pantheon in a new light. Not the light of truth, nor wisdom, but a tainted light, dim and weak, which illuminated only that which their Duke (and now they themselves) wanted to see, and left in shadows much that they should know.

Put plainly, and as ever I strive to write so, they believe thus: Morr is the god of death, ruler of the afterlife, the realm of the dead, and all mortal souls belong to him. This far they have not strayed from the truth. But then they add that all other gods, whatever their domain - be it war, trade, the law, or elves and dwarfs, the mountains or the sea, even murder, corruption or chaos – are masters of something earthly, something that will end in time, either through the death of all mortals or the very end of the world. When their domains ceases to exist, then they become powerless and forgotten. The demise of the mortal races and the earthly realm is their death. There can be no king of Bretonnia if there is no longer a Bretonnia, only a pretender to a non-existent throne. Such a man would be a fool, clutching to a power not merely faded but no longer real. Thus fare the gods when their own domains are ended. Their office is their being: Myrmidia is war, Mercopio is trade. Without their office, they cease to be.

Morr, however, is no such creature, no such god. Morr is death. His domain is that which houses the souls of the dead – for ever more. His dominion exists for all time, immemorial and eternal, for there can be no second death. When a mortal dies, they are dead forever, and so are subject to Morr’s rule forever. Morr is the only eternal god, he remains when all the rest are lost in the mists of time, when the other gods themselves have forgotten what they once were. And finally, when the other gods’ souls give up all that is vital within them, then they too join the ranks of the dead and so fall under Morr’s dominion.

Morr, the Pavonans say in their every prayer, is the one, true god.

Such heretical beliefs are only made stronger by the Pavonans’ victorious conquest of Astiano, for this petty war was fought since they dedicated themselves wholly to Morr, and their success is considered a gift from Morr rewarding them for their faith.

They do not yet think of themselves as schismatic, having not denied the Arch Lector’s authority, nor declared themselves as separate from the Holy Church of Morr, rather they see themselves as its most perfect and enlightened servants. Yet such is their pride and arrogance that I think it will not be long before they break away from lawful authority. Their heresy is in some ways subtle, for even now they do not deny the living power of all the other gods. They do not tear down statues of the other gods, nor desecrate their shrine, nor even do they mock them and their servants. They accept that when merchants make the proper sacrifices to Mercopio while his priests intone the correct rites, that their business will indeed prosper. They understand that a soldier who prays to Myrmidia the night before a battle, then marches with like minded, prayerful soldiers, will indeed fare better on the field of bloody battle, with victory even more likely when their army is accompanied by Myrmidian priests. They know that even foreign gods can affect mortal lives should they choose to do so. None of this is denied by them, but they see these gods as lesser beings, their worldly manifestations as ultimately doomed.  All gods but Morr have become in their eyes mere demigods, little more than saints, for every god but Morr is diminished by their inherent mortality. Thus they have themselves left off the proper respect of all the lawful gods, merely praying to them to intercede in their worldly fate, while the only god they worship is Morr.

None of them seem to recognise the sin of pride in their attitude, which Morr ever frowns upon. None accept that Morr and his holy church command them to give unto all the lawful gods their due respect. None now accept the holy church’s teachings concerning the ordering of the universe, from the heavenly realm to our temporary abode. There is no balance to their faith. They have become like giddy fools at court who pour unwanted flattery at a wise king, who thrust titles upon him that he does not want nor rightfully possesses. They would serve up heaven as a feast to Morr and expect him gluttonously to devour it all.

If I were to be kind and forgiving I might say that the Pavonans’ faith simply burns too bright, but that would be to make them appear innocent and honest. No, they are vain and greedy: they wish Morr to be the only god, and they themselves to be his favoured children, equal unto the other gods because those same gods are no less mortal than they.

This is heresy.

Your humble and most obedient servant, Brother Callisto Valli of the Order of the Sorrowful Raven

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 26, 2014, 12:48:30 PM
Bad Timing, Bad Intelligence and Bad Behaviour.

Prologue, Part 2


Gurmliss had been frogmarched through the camp by two hulking orcs wielding viciously sharp choppas. Being forced to walk quicker than his short legs were accustomed to was not what annoyed him most, it was the jeering from every greenskin he passed. He was being treated like a coward - worse than that, like a coward who was about to receive his punishment. He had led his pathetic force against the Tileans, to test them, probe them, discover their strengths, their weaknesses, and had done so despite the fact that he had known full well his army would be defeated and furthermore that he himself would most likely be killed. He had done so because it would prove him to be no coward, instead he might possibly learn something useful, and at no real cost to Warboss Khurnag.

So it was he left the massacre and rode fast northwards to report the battle. Khurnag had listened, Gurmliss was thanked (!), and the Waagh had begun its march south. Either Khurnag actually relished the idea of fighting such a foe, or he wanted his warriors to think he did. Gurmliss suspected the former. Yet, now something had gone wrong. Perhaps a rival had persuaded Khurnag to change his mind about Gurmliss’ actions?

He arrived at the orcs boys’ encampment to discover quite a crowd had gathered (to watch the entertainment?). His two escorts prodded him forward into a ring of glowering orcs, most of whom were scraping their steel choppa blades together to emit an awful squealing and squeaking. It was not exactly a reassuring sound.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBatPrequelA_zps0368aa15.jpg)

Khurnag was there, garbed in heavy iron plates almost from head to toe, with two goblin scout bosses at his side. Gurmliss knew the goblins, and neither was what he would consider a friend: the first he had once bloodied in a squabble over a barrel of wine, the second he had once chased off from a Tilean’s corpse so that he himself could loot it. Khurnag was grinning, as usual, for his fangs were so large they forced his lips into that shape.

Warboss Khurnag clanged his war axe and choppa together to silence the boys, then narrowed his already small eyes as he fixed them on Gurmliss. “You said the gobbos are all dead,” growled the warboss. “You said they were blown to bits. You lied. They’ve been found, sittin' in Pavezzano just like we left ‘em.”

This was not one of the possibilities Gurmliss had expected. Not at all. It was an impossible nonsense, for a start, for he had witnessed both the goblins' march from Pavezzano and their subsequent massacre with his own eyes.

“Who says de gobbos is still alive?” he asked, trying hard not to sound afraid.

Khurnag thrust his choppa at one of the goblins next to him, causing the little fellow to jump back to avoid being sliced. Gurmliss laughed, praying that such apparent confidence must surely help turn the situation around. He looked the goblin scout boss in the eye.

“You saw Pavezzano, did you, with our gobbos in it?” he said. “Where? Where exactly?”

The scout boss scowled. “Not more’n four miles from ‘ere: gobs ‘n walls ‘n engines ‘n all.”

Gurmliss laughed. “That ain’t Pavezzano, not if it’s four miles away. Pavezzano is leagues an’ leagues aways – days an’ days to march. You saw summat else.”

Grunts and snorts now eminated from the orc boys gathered around. The scout master shouted his answer, trying to inject a tone of mockery into his words (but failing to completely to hide the fear). “So you sayin’ dere’s two forts filled wiv gobbos on dis 'ere coast? I don’t ‘member passing one when we came up norf.” He turned to his comrade, “D’you, Jabble?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBatPrequelB_zps28f9ef64.jpg)

Jabble’s eyes went wide as he realised this meant he too had to speak in front of this rather unsympathetic crowd. “N .. no,” he stammered. “Dere’s no ovver fort. Just Pavezzano.”

The first goblin grinned. “See? One fort. Dat’s all dere is. It’s not me who’s lyin’ ‘ere, it’s you. You ran away from Pavezzano an’ made up de rest.”

Once again Gurmliss laughed, although this time with less feigned confidence. “It’s you who’s lyin’, an’ yer so thick you don’t even know yer doin’ it …”

Khurnag grunted, which immediately silenced the arguing gobbos. “We’s got to get to the bottom of this, ain’t we boys? What a riddle eh? Either there’s a whole other gobbo fort appeared out o’ the blue, or Pavezzano has up and jumped along the coast, or brave Gurmliss ‘ere can’t quite remember where he ran away from? I know which one I‘d lay monies on.” A growling laugh rippled around the circle of orcs. “Tell you what, ‘cos gobs is gobs an’ there all as useless as each other, I’m not gonna decide who’s right. Nah, I’ll send Gurmliss to the fort. If the naughty goblins there ain’t ours then they’ll likely kill him. An’ if it is Pavezzano, then they’ll kill him for running away. Can’t do better than that, eh? You’s got two options to take yer pick from, Gurmliss.”

As the rippling laughter re-doubled, Gurmliss stood with his arms crossed. The two orcs guarding him seemed disappointed – perhaps they were looking forward to cutting him up into pieces?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBatPrequelC_zps873e8ea0.jpg)

Battle report to follow …
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 28, 2014, 08:41:03 PM
Bad Timing, Bad Intelligence and Bad Behaviour.

The Battle, Part 1


Scenario Rules

Due to Khurnag’s careless assumption regarding the identity of the Greenskins at the fort, his Waagh is currently marching by in a long, drawn out column, with little thought given to battle readiness. Thus in the game, which begins as the first accurate report regarding the fort is delivered to Khurnag, his Waagh will make a staggered arrival on the battlefield. The Waagh list is divided into ‘Peripheral’ units (scouts, lighter, faster units) and ‘Main Battle Line’ units. The former are all labelled ‘A’, the latter ‘B’. The following table will be used to determine what arrives on Khurnag’s table edge at the start of each turns.


1st turn 2D3 ‘A’ units, chosen randomly
2nd turn 2D3 ‘A’ units, chosen randomly from those which were still off the field, of which D2 could be swapped for randomly chosen ‘B’ units if the player wished.
3rd turn onwards 2D3 units, randomly chosen from those remaining on either or both lists.

Characters (labelled ‘C’) can enter the field on their own by rolling 4+ and using up one of the 2D3 slots above. Or they can arrive with an appropriate unit that has already arrived if they roll a 3+ (again using up one of the unit slots).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Battle

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat2_zpseffb8400.jpg)

Gurmliss was not the only one from Warboss Khurnag’s greenskins who made their way to the fort. Several other riders had meandered in that direction as they made their general way south. He already knew he was right about the greenskins there, because moments ago a single wolf rider had hurtled past him screaming about enemies, no doubt hoping to turn the rest of the Waagh in this direction. Gurmliss’ chariot trundled along beside another, while he spotted the body of wolf riders from which the lone rider must have originated to his left – a little mob led by a particularly vile goblin named Clabtoe. A pump wagon, very likely just here by chance rather than design, was rolling along in a clackety fashion to his right.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat1_zpsb464aff0.jpg)

It seemed the enemy were already alerted, for they had formed into companies, crewed their engines, and lined the fence with missile troops. Gurmliss was not happy about the number of engines they had, especially the lines of muzzles, big and small, he could see resting on the rickety fence – cannon, swivel guns and hand guns. Guns were bad news for chariots. Guns behind fences were even worse.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat3_zps15e50b22.jpg)

The defences included several little redoubts, one of which had a small piece of artillery mounted at it (and a crewman who looked remarkably like Gurmliss – could be his twin brother!). Beside the cannon were some mean looking orcs with crossbows. Advancing on this foe was going to hurt, thought Gurmliss, at least it would for those unlucky enough to approach first. Once the Waagh came up properly and Khurnag’s warriors got over the fences, it would be quick, easy (and bloody) work, for the Waagh vastly outnumbered this petty tribe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat4_zps28c4c2e0.jpg)

Yes, he decided, victory would surely be Khurnag’s, of that there was no doubt, but those who went in at the front would not be around to enjoy the spoils. There were even half a dozen brass swivels, crewed by orcs, right beside the only gate that Gurmliss could see – a gate so positioned that to enter he would have to ride right past them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat5_zpsc2dfdfd1.jpg)

The handguns were wielded by a ragged band of small goblins, off on the enemy’s left flank …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat6_zpsdf8f40af.jpg)

… while inside the fort were two larger bodies of fighters, one an orcen company, the other gobbos. The orcs looked like seafarers and for a moment Gurmliss wondered if these were the same orcs who had brought the vanguard of Khurnag’s Waagh over the Gulf from the Badlands, but that made no sense because most of them had been pressed into service in the Waagh, their boats and ships abandoned. Besides, why would those greenskins get themselves into a scrap with an army they knew to be vast?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat7_zps0d3bad97.jpg)

The largest enemy company, a mass of goblins, looked wilder than most goblins. They were armed to the teeth with every sort of weapon, but mostly pistols, boarding axes and cutlasses. They had to be pirates.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat8_zpse2bf7269.jpg)

A second artillery piece sat upon a fortified earthen mound above and behind the outer defences. It was much larger than the one down by the gate, having the look of a looted dwarfen piece. It was commanded by a cloaked orc whose head was enclosed in a battered, bloodied metal helm – likely from whoever it was he last butted in the face.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat9_zpsab98af3d.jpg)

Although it was hard to make out the details it looked like many of the greenskins inside the fort were engaged in an argument. No surprise there, Gurmliss thought. This day would go a lot better for him if the enemy was fatally divided. Yet as Clabtoe’s wolf riders began to close on the walls it became obvious that not all the enemy was bickering - the crossbows and gunners by the gate were busying themselves. When the cannon’s blast came it was loud enough to make Gurmliss’ wolf team jolt his chariot. The effect on the wolfriders was somewhat more serious, and combined with the flurry of iron-tipped bolts that issued from the crossbows, it caused the surviving wolf-riders to flee.

Gurmliss grinned. He had never liked Clabtoe so he did not feel bad it was him who was stung first. Glancing behind he now saw that the galloping goblin wolf rider had successfully summoned several companies of other riders from the Waagh. No less than Warlord Khurnag himself had arrived with his guard of Boar Riders, while Thagger’s Big Uns came up beside them. A boar chariot also trundled within view, as well as a goblin shaman whose name Gurmliss had never managed to pronounce (admittedly not having tried to do so often: ‘you’ or ‘him’ usually sufficed).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat11_zps67e705c5.jpg)

Khurnag was riding his giant boar Butter, whose oversized tusks were rivalled in the little herd only by the curved horns on Khurnag’s helmet. The warboss’s boar rider guard carried his personal standard, a pole adorned with the rotting skull from the minotaur Khurnag famously felled during the Battle of Foulmire.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat12_zpseed7aee5.jpg)

Thagger’s Big Uns thundered up on the flank, their heavy hooves making more noise than Khurnag’s Guard who had thrice their number. Their own ragged banner had once been the personal standard of the Badland’s Warboss Gravell the Red, who had been pushed from his wyvern mount by Khurnag, then skewered on Thagger’s spear. That was the day Khurnag had declared Thagger should command his own riders. Laughing, the warboss had added: “I don’t want to have to do all the batterin’ and bashin’ then ‘ave you stick yer spear in and spoil my fun before I’m done.”  (Thagger’s nickname amongst the Waagh’s goblins had been ‘Spoiler’ ever since).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat13_zps9a702601.jpg)

Now that Khurnag was on the field, most of those who had previously been milling about began to move more directly towards the foe, with Khurnag and his boar riders moving as fast as they could. Gurmliss himself, eager despite the gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach, to repair his reputation in Khurnag’s eyes, was right out in front, his hurtling chariot bouncing so much he had to grip with all his might.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat14_zpsb6a17a0c.jpg)

Meanwhile the arguments were apparently raging on inside the fort. The sharp retort of a handgun or two rang out and Gurmliss felt his throat tighten as he anticipated leadshot tearing through him, but the shots were aimed at targets within the fort! An orc fell screaming, then several others ran out to hack furiously at the handgunners, killing a good number. When the cannons boomed, once again making Gurmliss jump, they aimed not at him but at the boar riders, felling one; the crossbow orcs also chose not to trouble his chariot, instead bringing down another boar rider.

Behind the vanguard more regiments from the Waagh were arriving on the field, only to end up in an altercation with Clabtoe’s recently rallied wolf riders. Gurmliss learned later that Clabtoe had declared that he was leaving, saying that he did not come all this way to fight “orcs ‘n gobs” in a rickety fort with” likely no loot at all up for grabs”.  He came to kill men for gold and silver, not to squabble with greenskins like everyone did back home. The newly arrived troops were somewhat annoyed at this exhibition of truculence by the goblin boss, and took it upon themselves to convince (in a bloody manner) him and his riders to turn around. As the boss of the pike goblins put it, Clabtoe and his lads were going to attack the fort, and they were going to go first. What resulted was a messy squabble (not dissimilar to what Clabtoe had claimed he did not like about back home) which meant the newly arrived Ogres had to waste time marching perpendicular to the battle front just to get around the riot.

The fort’s defenders now did something that Gurmliss really did not expect – the goblin handgunners climbed the fence and ran out towards Khurnag’s Boar Rider Guard!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat15_zps85e02db9.jpg)

Perhaps they were simply trying to get away their supposed allies within the fort, having lost five of their number to the orc pirate’s blows? Certainly their action was one they would have done if they had been in their right minds. Meanwhile the orc swivel gunners unleashed a volley of sangrannel, only to witness two of their own barrels shiver into pieces and kill gunners wielding them. When the intact guns failed to visibly harm any of Khurnag’s warriors Gurmliss assumed that their powder must be rotten. The three surviving orcs were momentarily stunned …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat16_zpsf5caed65.jpg)

… then frantically began stuffing powder and shot into their barrels.

(To continue …)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 04, 2014, 09:32:59 PM
While the pirate orcs loosed a sting of pistol shots, bringing down one of Khurnag’s boar boys, and a cannonball smashed the chariot behind Gurmliss’ own, more and more regiments from the Waagh were arriving at the field of battle: boar chariots, spear chukkas, a big regiment of boys (although not the Waagh’s largest) and the Waagh’s army standard bearer Big Boss Malkey the Fist.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat17_zpse44b90b7.jpg)

Not that many of these units made much headway, as the argument involving Clabtoe’s wolf riders and the pike goblins flared out to draw in several other bodies. Two orc boys died to goblin arrows, then two wolf riders died before they could escape the vengeful orcs’ wrath. At the real fighting front the Spoiler’s boar riders chased after the goblin handgunners who had run off after suddenly recognising  the utter insanity of their decision to leap the fence and head out on their own. Khurnag led his own much larger body of boar riders to charge the crossbow orcs at the little gate, losing one of his boys to a fall as they tried to negotiate the fence.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat18_zps61b56f0a.jpg)

The crossbow orcs were hacked apart quickly and efficiently, until only one remained …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat19_zps2d00b0e7.jpg)

… who then turned to flee, being chased down by Khurnag and his lads. Gurmliss watched as the orc war boss and his regiment of riders’ momentum carried them into the little wooden bastion containing the foremost cannon, where they set about the goblin crew and their bully with glee.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat20_zpscb10bc90.jpg)

A thunderous boom sent an iron roundshot over the boar rider’s heads to bounce across the field and tear an ogre leadbelcher in two, but Khurnag and his boys did not let it distract them as they tore the terrified cannon crew to pieces. Gurmliss was not the only one watching them, as inside the fort the goblin pirates stared with sick fascination (and some gut wrenching trepidation). They readied their ranks and files to face Khurnag as best they could, their shattered ship’s wheel standard held at their front.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat22_zpsdf924952.jpg)

More and more elements of the Waagh were arriving to add to the confusion and general milling about at the rear of the greenskins’ line. Another pump wagon trundled onto the field, as well as a large body of mercenary ogres.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat21_zps2909524e.jpg)

Growing more crazed by the minute, Clabtoe persisted in his disagreement with every other greenskin regiment around him, so that the ogres had to march around the growing riot up to where their recently battered cannon wielding comrades were.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat23_zpse12c26f6.jpg)

Undaunted by a flimsy fence, Khurnag led his boar riders in a charge against the goblin pirates and was himself bloodied in the thigh by a shiver of wood as his boar Butter crashed through the defences. Another boar rider fell to the goblins’ countershot, but when the riders hit they scattered the goblins and sent them hurtling away in panic. Unwilling to chase such a pathetic foe, Khurnag steadied his lads and ordered them to turn to face inside the fort. There they saw that Gurmliss had manoeuvred his chariot through the gate, while the last three enemy swivel gunners had destroyed the pump wagon.

Now the last of the foe were surrounded on two sides by Khurnag’s Waagh, and not only from outside their defences.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSBat24_zpsa84256bd.jpg)

Khurnag was about to bellow ‘Waagh!’ and charge in, when instead his boys began squabbling over the looted pistols they had taken from the fallen goblions. Still, there were others who were keen to get stuck in, including the Spoiler and his lads. The trouble was the fence and Scarback’s orcs proved a very nasty combination, and four of the Big Un boar riders were brought down. Gurmliss, seeing his chance to show Khurnag that he was made of the right stuff, charged alone into the swivel gunners (happy in the knowledge that they had had no time to reload) and killed all three of them). He held back, however, from charging the large regiment of orc pirates, for he wanted to go in when Khurnag did.

There was a momentary pause, the only movement being Sea Boss Scarback’s pirate orcs turning to face Khurnag, then with a cry of “Waagh!” in went Khurnag and his lads, joined by Gurmliss’ chariot. As they crashed in, Khurnag and Scarback found themselves locked in personal combat with each other, while all others stayed out of their way.
   
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GSvGSLastPic_zpsd3ef2715.jpg)

Sea Boss Scarback could not hurt the mighty warboss, but Khurnag’s huge cleaver bladed spear bloodied the orc pirate. The Boar Riders and their mighty mounts tore into many other pirate orcs, with Gurmliss’ chariot also cutting several down. Perhaps the pirate orcs regretted their lack of armour? More likely they just died cursing everything. Whatever the last thoughts of the dying, the still living broke and ran, only to be run down and ground into the dirt by chariot wheels and boars’ hooves.

The battle was ended. Sea Boss Scarback’s Greenskin Corsairs were no more. And still more regiments of the Waagh were arriving on the field!

(Note: Although this battle is described in a very story like manner, it was indeed a normal tabletop game with my mate Duncan and I staying up stupidly late in the Christmas holidays, drinking slightly too much beer (as we felt obliged to do), and getting the usual amount of rules wrong – but not caring. What might appear to be story driven arguments and actions in this account are all in truth retrofitted from the events on the tabletop: mostly due to me having to invent story reasons for ill-timed episodes of animosity. Interestingly, although I was worried about how to explain the silly level of animosity shown on both sides, at the time of writing it actually proved extraordinarily easy to come up with reasons for greenskins to fall out with each other!)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 09, 2014, 07:28:52 PM
I think the bandwidth problem with my photos may be a one off. It resets tomorrow - I didn't make it by 5 hours, now that's not bad. I'll see what happens next month and maybe upgrade if necessary.

Edit: And the images are back. Hurray!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 15, 2014, 06:38:56 PM
Crusade
(Prologue to a Battle)

Biagino watched as the army marched across the bridge at Pontremola to the northern bank of the River Tarano. The crusaders’ military commander, the condottieri general Urbano D’Alessio, had declared the land on the far side of the bridge to be the better place to make a stand. He did not say why (and why should any general worth his salt have to?) but Biagino and several other priests secretly agreed that the decision was most likely based on the fact that with a river behind them, spanned by only one bridge, the crusade’s peasant and militia soldiers would have more difficulty fleeing the field of battle. Whether or not this would consequently make them more likely to stand their ground the priests could not decide upon. The enemy force would be terrible, the battle more like a feverish nightmare than the waking hours of the day. Then again, thought Biagino, what battle is not a nightmare?

With little else to do right now but wait and watch, he found himself once again angry that Lord Adolfo had refused to support the crusade in any way beyond merely allowing them to exist. The lord of Viadaza was now sick abed, admittedly, but this was not the reason none his troops were present. He had never intended to send any soldiers, and now his rather convenient illness meant he had not even had to watch the crusaders’ departure from his city, nor give them any sort of blessing or ‘fare thee well’. The crusaders had paraded through the streets nevertheless, their maroon flags emblazoned with the raven-winged hourglass emblem of Morr, the crowds cheering, the marching men sombre and sober. One might well have expected Lord Adolfo’s soldiers to line the streets and patrol the walls and gates to ensure an orderly parade and exit. Instead they were either confined to barracks or guarding Lord Adolfo’s palazzo. When the crusaders had passed the palazzo gate, Biagino did glimpse a great number of guards, including even some soldiers with orcen blood, pallid skinned, red-eyed wild men bearing viciously curved scimitars. They had put him in mind of the recent nightmare in which he had been humbled by the cruel duchess. Since that night, Biagino could not think of Lord Adolfo without seeing his dream face, drooling, hideous, bestial in its brazen lust.

It was as if Lord Adolfo was expecting to be besieged, which was odd, considering how he had so consistently mocked the crusaders as nothing more than a rabble, entirely worthless as a military force. Yet here he was behaving as if they posed a real threat, mustering his guard in a sudden fit of timidity. At the time, Biagino had momentarily feared it might be part of some cunning plan in which the crusaders were to be divided, disarmed and dispersed. But he dismissed the idea as ridiculous. The truth was simple: Lord Adolfo wanted the crusaders gone. The crusaders knew it, and Lord Adolfo knew they knew it. Surely he had mustered a strong guard just in case the bad feeling bubbled up into rebellion.

Right now the militia pike regiment were crossing the bridge – or at least they would be if an overloaded cart had not become stuck at the northern end of the bridge.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeProloguePic1_zps13d1a7c2.jpg)

Biagino could not help but stare as two burly peasants pulled at the draught horses’ harnesses, while the great heap of sacks threatened to topple from the wagon to create an even more stubborn obstacle. The confusion was not helped by the fact that a handful of peasant militia had already begun constructing a short stretch of wooden fence to partially close off the bridge. While some of the labourers had indeed stopped working and joined Biagino in watching the struggle with the cart horses, two were still hauling stakes around – very likely what had spooked the horses in the first place.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeProloguePic3_zps18538ee3.jpg)

The pikemen stood with apparent patience, well drilled in their postures from years of weekend practise, their brace of drummers now sensibly silent. Many had mocked them as ‘rude militia’, as part-time, amateur soldiers who were ever ready in arms apart from during times of war, more fit for drinking songs and wrestling over who got to wear their few pieces of communally stored armour than for battle. Biagino, however, saw that whatever they had once been, they were now inspired by Morr. More than their patriotic duty, more than loyalty to their long familiar officers, more than an urge to protect their family and neighbours. Morr.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeProloguePic4_zpsa404d7ad.jpg)

The large regiment of crudely armed peasants, led by fierce Father Antonello, seemed truly to be keen for the fight. It was a resolve that would no doubt be tested when they stood before the foe. Presently proud of the fact that they wielded pitchforks and scythes, flails and axes, reckoning that their familiarity with such tools made them nimble in their use, their enthusiasm could well wane when the bony corpses of long dead warriors came at them without flesh to scythe or organs to pierce. To fight such monsters required an extra-ordinary sort of courage and discipline, not mere skill at farm labour. The pair of peasants now yanking with all their might to move the cart looked determined indeed, but what was a pair of stubborn, bucking horses compared to a shambling horde of horrors, stinking of the grave and driven by the mighty, death defying will of a vampire?

Just as this thought sent a now familiar chill through Biagino, the wagon lurched and the wheels began to turn. As it trundled slowly away, the pike regiment’s colonel was already issuing the command: “Prepare to march!”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeProloguePic2_zps4aec4ad8.jpg)

Biagino was left with a lingering doubt. If dumb animals and a wagon filled with grain sacks could halt the best regiment of foot they had, then was it utter foolishness to think they could drive back the vampire duke?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 22, 2014, 05:52:14 PM
We Shall Stand

They were to make their stand upon the northern side of the bridge at Pontremola. The old bridge had seen better days, but the damage was superficial and it was still strong enough to transport the Viadazzan crusading army across without incident. The two toll-towers were abandoned, the keepers had fled in fear along three months ago along with the Ebinans crossing to escape the clutches of the Vampire Duke. To the north the road was fairly well delineated with hedgerows, more than a mere highway of hardened earth as it had ancient stone foundations. It coursed northwards through the gently sloping, eastern hills of Usola.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle1_zpsb3bd9bdc.jpg)

For six full hours the Morrite crusaders stood in battle array awaiting the foe. Not one man succumbed to weariness, for it was not a hot day and each and every one of them was sufficiently nervous concerning the imminent battle to ensure churning stomachs, not a condition in which one might sit down to rest easy. The mercenary crossbowmen made a show of looking nonchalant about the situation, yet everyone could see that it was exactly that – a show, effortful and deliberate, and attempt to hide their true state of mind.

The Carroccio stood behind the main battle line, its huge silken standard snapping as the breeze tugged at it. Since the army had left Viadazza every citizen had assembled morning and night to pray around it, as if it were the kind of holy shrine that would draw a crowd of pilgrims. And so it should, for it bore the most revered and holy artefacts the Church of Morr in Viadazza possessed, including the bones of three saints and the hilt of the sword an almost forgotten hero had used to slay the first vampire to set foot in Tilea. Well, it was either the first, second or third – it depended who exactly you asked and where they were from.

The Crusaders’ right flank consisted of two regiments of horse, one heavy and the other light. The former, positioned forwards, consisted of what few nobility had accompanied the crusades – being garbed in full plate armour and riding barded destriers. The lighter horse were what remained of the Arrabbiati Brotherhood, led by Lord Totto himself, recently recovered from the wounds he had received during the battle to save the Duchess Maria. Next stood an antique ribaudequin which had been restored to (what was hoped to be) working order. The peasant militia, captained by Father Antonello, who had spent all last six hours tirelessly maintaining their spiritual frenzy, stood next in line, flanked by the equally large militia pikemen. It was amongst these colourfully attired militia that Biagino stood, nominally their captain. In truth he only commanded in the way that the Lector commanded the army - a militia captain actually gave all the military orders, at Biagino’s request, just as the condottieri general Urbano D’Alessio listened to the Lector’s suggestions and turned them into military orders as he saw fit. Yet now that battle was about to be fought, D’Alessio had begun behaving more like a captain than a general, taking personal command of the mounted knights, leaving Lector Bernado Ugolini in the traditional position for a general (in the rear at the centre). The Lector was accompanied by his bodyguard, each man bearing the feathered wings revealing their origins as descendants of mercenary Kislevites.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle2_zps28b541d2.jpg)

The second militia regiment stood next in line, the swordsmen, led by Father Gonzalvo. They were not so large as the pike regiment, but they made up for this deficiency in swagger. Then stood the mercenary crossbowmen, calmly refusing to span their bows until the enemy was in sight. Upon the bridge was the army’s only cannon, a bombard of a long abandoned design which had been inspected for flaws and cracks by each and every one of the crew nearly every day. They had yet to find any such thing, though the real test would come when they began to fire in anger, over and over, heating the barrel in a way that had not been done in decades. The army’s baggage was placed upon the southern side of the river, with several wagons on the bridge itself. Biagino had wondered if this were also part of General D’Alessio’s scheme to keep the crusaders from fleeing too readily.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle3_zpsffab3462.jpg)

Out on the far left flank stood one company of skirmishing seamen, with the third and last artillery piece – a mortar – placed behind them on the far side of the river. Many a crusader had prayed that the grenadoes lobbed by this piece would tear the enemy’s rotten corpses to pieces in great swathes. Biagino was hoping that the undead, deficient as they were in muscle and sinew, might be more easily dismembered than living men and thus more likely to fall to the mortar’s explosive ammunition.

The only other company in the crusade were the scouting seamen, who were not present in the battle line as they had moved off ahead of the army to outflank the Duke’s shambling horde.

Quote
Viadazan Crusaders Total = 2670 points
Army list created from Campaign Tilean List, itself a modified version of the Treachery & Greed Campaign list

Morrite Lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini
Warhorse, Horseman's mace, Light armour
Prophetic Book Bound spell Harmonic Convergence; Robe of Cathayan Silk Wearer generates one additional power dice; Sword of Might
Special rules: Righteous Fury; Grim Resolve.
Prayers of Morr (power level 4):
Holy Protection (augment): Lector of Morr and unit he is with have a 5+ ward against all wounds until start of next friendly magic phase. (Morr decides when it is their time to die.)
Morr’s Caress (hex): range 24”, target unit suffers –1 T and –1 Str until start of next friendly magic phase. (Morr moves them a little closer to death for a while).
Morr’s Stare (direct damage): range 12”. Target single individual model (even character in a unit). Caster and target roll D6 and add to Ld stat. If Lector wins, victim loses D2 wounds with no armour saves. (Morr passes judgement.)


Urbano D’Alessio, Condottiere General
Warhorse, barding full plate
Sword of anti-heroes; Charmed Shield;Talisman of Endurance
Mercenary skill: Hopelessly stubborn Character & his unit = stubborn

Three Priests of Morr: Biagino, Gonzalvo & Father Antonello
Special rules: Righteous Fury, Divine Power
Lesser Prayers of Morr (innate bound spells, power level 3)
Lesser Holy Protection (augment): Priest of Morr and unit he is with have a 6+ ward against all wounds until start of next friendly magic phase. (Morr decides when it is their time to die.)
Morr’s Touch (hex): range 24”, target unit suffers –1 T until start of next friendly magic phase. (Morr moves them a little closer to death, in undead weakening the necromantic magic holding them together, for a while).
Morr’s Glance (direct damage): range 12”. Target single individual model (even character in a unit). Caster and target roll D6 & add to Ld stat. If priest wins, victim takes a Str 4 wound, no armour saves. (Morr passes judgement.)


Biagino: Circlet of Burning Gold
Father Antonello: Ruby Ring of Ruin

Callistro Gallani, Condotta Captain
Artillerist

Carroccio
War Wagon & Army Battle Standard
Magic standard (Home-rules) = Standard of Morr All troops within range of its battle Standard effect are immune to Fear caused by the Undead(+85 pts)
Special rules: Stubborn, immune to psychology, large target. War Wagon: Chariot, with single profile. NO  'swiftstride' rule. Moves as monster, may not march or charge. May not pursue; flees only d6". May not enter difficult or very difficult terrain. May not cross obstacles. Immune to poison and killing blow.
Armed with 6 handguns, which may fire even if the war wagon moves. Usual penalty to hit for moving and firing applies. Handguns have a 360 degree line of sight. In combat, has no flanks or rear. Attacks are armour piercing - assume handgunners are shooting as the CC attacks. Cavalry, chariots or monsters (including ogre-sized models) charging a war wagon do not count as charging. They also suffer -1 to hit the war wagon in combat.


The Arrabiatti Brotherhood
Lord Totto Level 2 Wizard
Warhorse, Dispel Scroll, Seed of Rebirth
9 Border Horsemen
Full Command; Warhorse, short bow, Shields, light armour, Horseman's maces. +1 S, mounted models only Fast Cavalry

Lector’s Guard 5 Border Horsemen 
Warhorse, bows, shields, light armour, spears ; Full Command. Fast cavalry

36 Militia Pikemen
Light armor, pikes; Full Command

20 Condotta Marksmen
Light armor, crossbows; Full Command

15 Buccaneer Skirmishers
2 hand weapons; Skirmishers.

15 Buccaneer Scouts
Pistols; Skirmishers/Scouts.

25 Bravi 
Swords, shields; Full Command

7 Knights
Warhorse, shield, lances, barding, full plate; Full Command

35 Peasants
Full Command

Ribaudequin
Mortar
(Archaic) Great Cannon    
Range 48”, Str 8, Multiple Wnds D4

The Vampire Duke’s army was large, with four large bodies of foot soldiers moving over the hills, and plenty of even more monstrous horrors besides. Ahead of the army rode a little company of Hex Wraiths, their every motion unnatural and eerie as the gleaming bones of their mounts grated beneath fluttering robes that seemed not quite a part of this world.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle4_zpsc01ad1a5.jpg)

Behind them, on the far right flank of the undead line of battle, crept a large body of ghouls, then next in line a mass of skeleton warriors strode, momentarily disordered by their descent from the hilly ridge. A huge horde of zombies spilled through the gap in the hills where the road coursed, and beside them came more skeletons, these being heavily armoured and carrying blades that gleamed in a hellish green.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle5_zps9dd9c04a.jpg)

Six brutish horrors came next, horrible to behold, yet somehow less nightmarish than the Vampire Duke himself and his guard of Black Knights. Finally, upon the foul horde’s far left, atop a hill which now looked like little more than a tiny mound compared to the bulk of the creature upon it, was a Terrogheist. The monster’s wings folded and unfolded in mockery of life, as its head stooped low upon its long and bony neck to espy the foe before it.

In even his worst nightmares, Biagino had not imagined the foe as terrible as this. Suddenly the might of the crusade seemed to diminish, and as he glanced left and right the soldiers seemed now to turn from warriors into mere farmers and merchants, from inspired agents of Morr’s will to very mortal men, alone and trembling.

They could not win. The foe was too mighty, too monstrous, too many.

Then he heard Father Antonello singing. It was a solemn hymn to Morr, yet the defiance in his voice was very clear. It was not the sound of a fearful man trying to fool those around him into believing he was brave, but rather the voice of a man governed wholly by obedience to the god of death. Voices joined his, then more and more, until all three regiments were singing. When the bell on the carroccio began to ring in time to the hymn, Biagino felt Morr’s presence like he had never done before.

They could win. They would win. Morr willed it.

Battle to follow asap
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 27, 2014, 07:04:15 PM
Battle Part One

Behind the undead battle line the company of scouting seamen climbed a low ridge to see what there was to see. They could not help but stop, for the foe was arrayed so thick and numerous that the crusading army was barely visible beyond them. Still, the scouts had come here to do what could be done to slow down the enemy units on this flank, and so somewhat hesitantly they cocked their pistols quickly scrutinised the ground ahead to ascertain the best route forwards.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle6_zps688240b2.jpg)

The enemy wasted no time, for there was not a creature amongst them who could recall what it was to feel hesitation. The hex wraiths charged at the company of skirmishing sea men, sending them hurtling away to splash in the waters at the rivers’ edge. (Game note: It occurs to me now as I type that we had both forgotten vanguarding units cannot charge in the first turn. Oops! Still, the buccaneers got away.)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle7_zps1b6b9b9e.jpg)

On the far side of the field of battle the monstrously huge Terrorgheist flapped in a horribly graceful manner - for such a large and ragged beast - and came to land right before the mounted men at arms.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle8_zps2e4572bf.jpg)

The beast then began a pained and painful squealing, like a bird caught bloodily in a trap. Thinking it ugly enough, the men at arms had no idea what more the beast could  and would yet do with its scream. The rest of the undead horde shambled onwards, those closest to the Vampire Duke, the ones with the longest legs and those mounted  on bony horses given impetus by their proximity to him who had raised them, thus moving much further than the rest.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle9_zpscd751c3a.jpg)

An enormous body of zombies came on in the centre, their stench carrying for more than a mile downwind, their gait ungainly, their arms swinging loose as black nailed fingers clutched at the air in their ever present urge to tear flesh.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle10_zps3f991f12.jpg)

Biagino stood in the front rank of the Viadazan pikemen, happy to allow the beating of the two drummers to jolt the fearful thoughts from his mind. And there were a lot of such thoughts. Only moments before he had witnessed five corpses claw their way out of the ground in front of the crossbowmen, obviously summoned by the Vampire Duke to obscure the mercenaries’ line of fire. He could not help but wonder again that the crusaders had bitten off far more than they could chew, for the enemy was numerous enough to begin with, yet now even more were being raised to serve them.

Once again he glanced over at Father Antonello …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle11_zpsb7d360a7.jpg)

… and once again took solace from his reassuring presence. If anything, Father Antonello’s peasants were even more keen for the battle than the militiamen beside them – fair chomping at the bit to get at the foe. Then Biagino’s reverie was broken by the dying screams of two pikemen who had succumbed to some spell emanating from the Vampire Duke. He did not know it, but the Black Knights around the Duke suffered worse, as they lost three of their number to an uncontrolled spillage of magical energies from the Duke’s spell. As a few moments later the Black Riders returned, summoned back into the world by necromantic magic, no crusaders even noticed they had ever gone!

(Game Note: I didn’t notice at the time, but Daz’s two vampires both attempted to cast Invocation of Nehek, and the second one repaired the Black Knights. Of course, in normal rules the Duke could not cast another spell after his earlier miscast. Maybe there is some magical trait vampire’s can buy which allows them to do so? I have checked the VC book myself but I can’t find anything. I have a feeling we weren’t doing very well with the rules in this game!)

General D’Alessio now led his little company of armoured nobility in a charge against the Terrorgheist, their fear almost entirely washed away by the proximity of the carroccio and its inspiring collection of Morrite icons and relics. (Game Note: I write ‘almost’ because of course the monster’s terror was reduced to fear.) Only one knight managed to pierce the tip of his lance into the beast’s bony carapace, but it was enough both to visibly weaken the creature and bolster the other knights’ courage. With the crusader’s Morrite banner streaming above them, they fought on.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle12_zpse2b86234.jpg)

While they fought heroically, like mythical knights of old, against the monster, elsewhere bolts were loosed and ironshot fired. Two of the Ogre-like monsters fell to these missiles, and five Graveguard joined them in their second death.

Now, as the Hex Wraiths finished the job they had begun and chased the Buccaneers off the field of battle entirely, Duke Alessandro led his reformed Black Knights in a charge against the Viadazan noblemen with General D’Alessio.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle13_zpsf3554cc4.jpg)

Few amongst the crusaders could believe that the Vampire Duke was already engaged in combat, against their army general no less, and with a giant monster by his side.  Yet they steeled themselves, and the light horsemen of the Arrabiatti Brotherhood moved up to the spot vacated by the noblemen, so that the Crusaders’ line could stay sound.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle14_zps8fa5a3a8.jpg)

Just then the men of Viadaza were given an awful glimpse of what the enemy was capable of, for the Terrorgheist gave vent to another screeching wail, this time so overwhelmingly horrible as to take the life of five of the knights before it. As their metal-clad corpses slid from their saddles to clatter to the ground, the Vampire Duke laid about General D’Alessio furiously, raining blow after blow upon him, but the general’s full plate armour and the blessing of his holy talisman prevented each and every blow from wounding him. Obviously outmatched, and likely to die any moment, the general stubbornly refused to flee but fought on, accompanied by only one remaining guard, the standard bearer.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle15_zps5c0d5d28.jpg)

Aware that the Duke’s death was probably the only thing that could bring the Crusader’s victory, and knowing that General D’Alessio could not possibly hope to survive on his own, Father Antonello ordered his peasants to charge the flank of the Black Knights. Not wanting to be outdone by peasants, the Arrabiatti also charged into the Vampire Duke’s guard, so that now a huge fight was taking place on the far right of the Crusaders’ line.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle16_zps487248a2.jpg)

No less than a dozen more Graveguard were felled (including some who had already been re-re-animated) by a deadly combination of crossbows, cannon and mortar. And while these very worldly weapons were being employed, the priests were also praying for spiritual aid. In this way they blessed the peasants with the lesser form of Morr’s Protection, while the Lector used his prophetic book to cast the enchantment commonly known as Harmonic Convergence on the Arrabiatti. The priests knew both these units would need every bit of help they could get, for although they outnumbered and surrounded the foe, the enemy was both fearless and frightening, as well as better armed and armoured.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle18_zps2b27079d.jpg)

As the fight began, Biagino found himself very close to the enemy’s brute horrors:

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle19_zpse1273a7e.jpg)

When the militia sergeant ordered the pikes levelled, the monstrous foe did not exactly recoil, but it was obvious that somewhere in the tattered remnants of their consciousness they knew that to charge headlong into the serried rows of sharp steel tips would be foolish. So it was they halted, their heads stooped as they leered horribly at the Viadazans.

Somehow General D’Alessio's armour once again saved him from each and every one of the umpteen blows rained upon him by the Vampire Duke. (Game Note: For a second time, even at -3 to save, somehow I rolled all 5s & 6s!) Yet although the general’s armour saved him, he could not himself harm Duke Alessandro, for the vampire had beguiled him supernaturally, leaving him so befuddled that his own attempts to strike blows where easily parried by the wicked Duke. Nor could the Arrabiatti harm the foe, and - perhaps unsurprisingly - neither could the peasants (even though they had been filled with such confidence by the good priest leading them). Ignoring the peasants as if they were of no consequence at all, the foul creatures of the night mortally wounded six of the Arrabiatti, and their subsequent deaths were somewhat loud and disturbing. Lord Totto shouted most boldly to the last few that they should stand and “See this through”, and such was their high regard of their leader that they did indeed do so. But not so the peasants. Father Antonello was dumbfounded by his supposedly blessed warrior’s failure to even scratch the foe, and his momentary silence was enough to undo all the work he had done with his inspiring words. The peasants turned and fled, running right through Biagino’s pikemen and Gonzalvo’s swordsmen. Neither of the militia units broke, perhaps having always expected just such behaviour from the peasants, but the peasants burst out of the swordsmen’s left flank with the stunned Father Antonello still amongst them. For the first time in months he harboured doubts, his faith in Morr so shockingly tested.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle20_zps32a01f12.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 05, 2014, 08:55:57 PM
(Turns 3 and 4)

The green-bladed Grave Guards now charged the Viadazan swordsmen, their onslaught also catching some of the peasants and forcing them to redouble their efforts to flee. In so doing, the peasants now took the mercenary crossbowmen with them – both broken bodies running pell-mell towards the river, the dangerous depth of the waters momentarily forgotten in their urge to escape.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle21_zps2d3617ad.jpg)

Dark magics were summoned by both vampires, so that the Black Knights danced macabre, and the Grave Guard acquired a hellish vigour, but the joint efforts of the priests and Lord Totto ensured that none of the enemy dead were re-animated. The Terrorgheist unleashed another horrendous cry and the last of the Viadazan nobility tumbled from his saddle, his silken banner falling to be trodden into the mud by a taloned and bony claw. A moment later Lord Totto was brutally cut down by the Black Knight’s champion, and the very last of his shadowy brotherhood fell by his side, leaving General D’Alessio to fight on alone. Once again, although still magically befuddled by the vampire duke’s proximity, his armour and wards proved effective, saving the general from each and every blow. Even the Vampire Duke, his mind cold, cruel and not quite of this world, was beginning to feel frustration at this mere mortal who refused to die.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle23_zpsdeaec753.jpg)

(Game Note: We both failed to realise at the time that if a lone character is fighting a challenge then the fact that his base is corner to corner with a separate unit does not mean that unit remains caught up in that combat. So the Terrorgheist could have left this combat in the next turn. I’ll discuss below whether this would have had much of an effect on the game.)

The long line of shambling, undead foot soldiers continued its advance …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle22_zpsf831a12e.jpg)

… while the Grave Guard hewed down swordsman after swordsman, with the Duke’s vampiric captain (once a renowned mercenary from the Empire, now a monster with barely a trace of human thought remaining) gleefully hacked off the militia champion’s head, then joined his guard in their pursuit of the utterly broken Viadazans. The undead slaughtered every man who ran, and found themselves before the carroccio.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle24_zps69138fdd.jpg)

Their bestial commander, the tortured creature who now inhabited the twisted, living corpse of Captain Theobald, grinned with glee. Here was something he would enjoy tearing up as much as any mortal. He could feel the power emanating from it, the spirit of the god who hated the undead more than all others. He raised his black-clawed hand, gestured …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle25_zpsc3937b68.jpg)

… and barked his command. As one the Grave Guard hefted their massive blades and prepared to charge. 

Knowing only too well that to win this battle the vampire duke must be killed, and that the embattled General D’Alessio could not be expected to fight alone against such horrors, the Morrite Lector of Viadaza commanded his bodyguard of Kislevites to charge into the Black Knights’ flank. This they did without hesitation, for since their march from the city they had understood that in a war such as this their role could not remain merely ceremonial.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle26_zpsb021ab73.jpg)

Glimpsing the Lector’s charge, Biagino finally decided the time had come, and ordered the pikemen to charge into the horrors standing before them. Some of the fleeing Viadazans noticed these charges, as well as the fact that the enemy was still some distance away, and faced with almost certain death in the cold river waters decided that flight was perhaps not the best option after all. So it was that they rallied, reforming their ranks and files with the river immediately to their rear. 
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle27_zpsf4e01203.jpg)

The crew of the ribaudequin hefted their ancient war machine anti-clockwise so that it pointed at the Grave Guard, and after a brief moment’s hesitation during which one of the screamed at the Lector’s secretary to get out of the way ….

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle28_zpsa56ff478.jpg)

… they sent a hail of shot which felled three of the foe. Two more were shot down by the carroccio handgunners, while the cannon sent a ball through the rickety corpse cart and tore it to pieces, the damage so effective that it completely un-knitted the dark, magical forces holding the foul and stinking construction together.

Once again, now very obviously miraculous and surely certain proof that Morr was indeed present with the Crusaders, General D’Alessio’s armour withstood the torrent of blows rained down upon him by the vampire duke. (Game Note: all 5 wounds saved by armour or ward saves!) Urbano now managed to pierce his foe with his blade, so that corrupted blood bubbled from the wound, withering the grass wherever it spattered upon the ground. Three of the vampire dukes’ Black Knights were dispatched by the Kislevite riders, and such was the ferocity of the combat that all the remaining Black Knights now collapsed, as well as the Terrorgheist, leaving Duke Alessendro Sforta to fight alone.

(Game Note: If we had realised the Terrorgheist was no longer a part of the combat – see comment above – then it would not have perished, but there is every chance that the ribaudequin or a well placed spell would likely have removed its last few wounds. Perhaps one might say that the rules errors in favour of the undead earlier in the game balance this error in favour of the Viadazans. Neither me nor my opponent are bothered about this error, as we are aware it was a genuine mistake and there are always some such mistakes in our games.)

Biagino was caught up in a no less dangerous combat, and prayed that the Crusader’s hatred of the foe would spur them on to cause great harm. It was not to be, however, for despite the ferociousness of their efforts, all they could do was scratch the foe. (Game Note: 24+2 re-rollable attacks, results in 2 wounds!)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle30_zpsd0af47d3.jpg)

The enemy was not so unlucky, however, and tore into the pikemen so viciously that ten Viadazans fell to their attacks. Despite the awful damage dealt to them, the spirit of Morr was still with them and the Viadazans stood their ground. As they clutched tight at the pikes, leaning upon each other in an attempt to counteract the tremendous weight of the foe, behind them the surviving Grave Guard now smashed into the carroccio.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle31_zpsd8bdb31d.jpg)

The vampire Theobald screeched with glee as he and his guard hacked at the wagon and its crew, ripping both apart.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle35_zps42655fe1.jpg)

Clambering up the side, tearing a terrified crewman right out of the upper platform and hurling him into the Grave Guards below, Theobald yanked the Crusaders’ army standard from its bracket and threw that down on top of the now dismembered crewman. (Game Note: Now no 18” Ld re-roll, and no 18” fear immunity for the Crusaders!)

The vampire duke’s right wing, a veritable sea of nightmarish foot soldiers shambled onwards, slowly but surely closing the gap between themselves and the enemy.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle33_zpscfe1910b.jpg)

The gunner and matrosses manning the cannon on the bridge might have become worried about the massed regiments’ proximity, had they not been at that moment on the receiving end of a charge by the hellish Hex Wraiths.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle32_zps2b21093c.jpg)

Needless to say the gun crew stood no chance and all were butchered. The wraiths then burst out from the other side of the bridge, galloping over the river waters as if on solid ground; their ghostly, unnatural hooves barely splashing as they moved.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle34_zps35914758.jpg)

Clambering over the splintered wreckage of the carroccio, the vampire Captain Theobald led his Grave Guard in a charge against the recently rallied peasants. Considering how the peasants had so far behaved, and how bloodily effective the Grave Guard had been despite being greatly diminished by missile fire, and with the mobile Shrine to Morr (which had until now been the focus of any confidence the peasants possessed) having been completely desecrated, it was obvious that they could not possibly hope to stand. Yet for the briefest moment it looked like they had a chance, for they certainly had numbers on their side.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle36_zpsd6541f11.jpg)

Biagino and the pikemen once again suffered horrendous casualties, beaten by bone clubs bigger than themselves …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle37_zps2936a4f1.jpg)
 
… yet still they stood their ground. (Game Note: Passing their now non-re-rollable Break test at 5 or less!) Biagino himself could do little more than pray, the shafts of the pikes close around him so far protecting him from harm.

On the far right of the Crusaders’ line the desperate fight against the vampire duke himself continued …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle29_zpsfe2c5300.jpg)

… with General D’Alessio’s battered and bent armour once again preventing the duke’s blade from penetrating his flesh. The general himself was now barely able to wield his own blade, as he had finally succumbed to fear – the fight had been impossibly long, the foe so nightmarish, that it was all he could do to stay mounted as the blows repeatedly rang against his steel armour. Lector Bernado could see what a state he was in, and so read from his prophetic book to cast the spell Harmonic Convergence on the general. The Lector also tried to inflict Morr’s Stare on the vampire duke, but Alessandro’s wicked magics brushed that spell aside. It was enough, however, to distract the vampire, and now suddenly General D’Alessio regained his courage and snapped out of the magical beguilement that had until now held him in its grip.

The fight between them seemed to blaze anew, as both thrust and parried, hacked and twisted. And still the General’s armour could not be pierced (Note: once again, unbelievably, he saved against 4 wounds!) Although neither could harm the other, all the while Duke Allessandro’s grip on undeath had been weakening – surrounded by foes, outnumbered, alone – so that now, to the utter amazement of those fighting him, he slumped forwards in his saddle, his head lolling to bash against his mount’s skull. Then, with an anguished cry, he fell to the ground as the beast carrying him collapsed into nothing more than a pile of bones. As General D’Alessio let his aching sword arm drop to his side, his tears hidden by his dented helm, the Kislevites thrust their long spears one after the other, over and over, into the vampire duke’s now still corpse.

Duke Alessandro Sforta was dead. Not merely unliving, but truly and completely dead. 

In that moment the necromantic force holding the entire undead army in this realm was greatly weakened, and like a wave washing across a beach, the diminishment in its power spread across the field to affect body after body of undead soldiers. Two of the Crypt Horrors fighting Biagino and the militia pikemen collapsed, as did half a dozen zombies, even more skeletons, and four of the Grave Guard. All five Hex Wraith’s simply vanished.

(Game Note: End of Turn 4. End of game.)

No one cheered. The Lector, his guards and General D’Alessio were simply too exhausted, while all the rest were still embroiled in combat and could not yet know what had happened. But the vampire Theobald knew full well what had happened – he felt his sire’s death to the core of his being. Grimacing (as if his face was not ugly enough already) he refused to allow the anguished cry building inside him to be released. Instead he turned and ran. This was no frantic, scrambling flight, but a purposeful and controlled reaction. As he ran he commanded all those he could to fall back, using every bit of magic he could summon to hold them in this world.

Where he was going, what he intended to do, only he knew.

Over where the foul remains of the vampire duke lay corrupting the soil beneath them, the Lector and General D’Alessio were discussing their next move. After what they had done they had no fear of what was happening behind them – a crumbling (if still massive) force of zombies and ghouls seemed of little consequence compared to the foe they had faced and beaten.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeBattle38_zps934f26a7.jpg)

Before long the orders were given and the surviving Crusaders were falling back southwards over the bridge. To some, pushing on against the defeated foe might seem the most desirable course, but the Lector and General D’Alessio knew their men were exhausted, and that a powerful vampire commanded what was still a sizeable enemy force. The enemy was not tired – it no longer suffered such mortal complaints. The enemy was not afraid, for no trace of emotion was left to them. Besides, the important work had been done. The vampire duke was dead, his army in retreat. Now there was surely time to regroup, recuperate, recruit and then return to complete what they had so effectively begun. 
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: iamtheeviltwin on March 06, 2014, 04:08:24 PM
What a great write-up.  I really love the narrative campaign and battle reports that you are putting together.  (It should tell you how effective they are that I was really worried for the life of poor Brother Biagino)...
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 06, 2014, 04:24:17 PM
Thanks for saying so, evil twin. It helps to know I am still on the right track and that someone is still reading with something like enthusiasm. There's a lot going on in the campaign right now, two more battles to arrange (delayed only by the busy lives of me and my players), and I am always working on future story pieces. Once we get the first battle done I can do the end of season phase, which should have a number of illustrated stories in it like last time. 
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 19, 2014, 08:03:03 PM
General Report, End of Autumn IC 2401, Part 1

The Viadazan Terror

Biagino was met by the Lector’s secretary as soon as he returned to the camp, to be told he was summoned to an audience with the Lector. He had been out with a small company of militia scouring the land for supplies, there encountering two Viadazans so terrified that they could barely explain themselves. They spoke, incoherently, of the fall of Viadaza, and of the dead rising to kill the living. In truth, their vocabulary was inadequate to describe the horrors they had witnessed. At the time Biagino had prayed that they were simply fooled by circumstances, and were describing events in a village, a nightmarish encounter with a scouting company from the vampire duke’s army, or maybe just repeating what some mad prophet had dreamt. Yet as soon as Biagino saw the secretary’s face he knew that the two peasants had, in their own broken way, told the truth.

The secretary was mounted, and Biagino was forced to walk quickly to keep up with him and so hear his words. “They say the enemy are everywhere – I mean all over the city. There’s no safe place left. Some of the palazzos may have kept them out, but who knows? The undead cannot get in, and those inside can’t come out. There may be one palazzo still held by the living, perhaps more. As for the rest of the city, it seems every ward and quarter has been taken, with the undead roaming in large companies, killing everyone they can find.”

Biagino could barely take it in. The crusaders had killed the vampire duke, at great cost to themselves. They had served Morr bravely in the face of a truly nightmarish foe. They had watched the remaining undead scuttling back northwards. And still Viadaza had fallen. “What of Lord Adolfo’s men?” he asked. “Did they not attempt to defend the city?”

The secretary waved his hand dismissively. “Lord Adolfo’s men where nowhere to be seen, not alive anyway. If they did make a stand, no-one witnessed it. There was no battle like that we fought, apparently not even any defence of the walls and gates. Some amongst the walking dead looked like his marines; there were even some brutes who might once have been his ogres. But as to where Adolfo’s living men are, no-one can say.”

“How can an entire army disappear? How?” Demanded Biagino. “Did they leave the city? Did Adolfo flee south and take them with him? But no - I can’t see how he could possibly do that yet not be seen. What reports of Lord Adolfo? Is he still alive?”

“I reckon there has been some great act of treachery,” said the secretary. “Several people reported Lord Adolfo’s assassination; one told of a monstrous fiend roaming the corridors of the grand palazzo. Maybe the soldiers were lured away, or poisoned, or otherwise duped into their own destruction? The fleet has certainly fled – the hurried departure of nearly every ship in the harbour seems to have been one of the first signs that something was amiss. Maybe the threat came from the sea, and so the sailors saw it for what it was first? One old fellow described a cabal of necromancers leading the uprising, both the raising of the dead and their capture of the city. Another told us that saboteurs led the dead in, and dug the dead up. The Lector has insisted on hearing each and every account. I believe it to be an act of penance for leaving the city.”

“No-one could fault him for leading our crusade. He did what he must do.” Biagino had been wearing a frown throughout the conversation, and now his furrowed brow felt locked in place, his head aching as a consequence. “Maybe what had happened was meant to coincide with the vampire duke’s advance on the city? And it would have done, more or less, if we hadn’t stopped him crossing the river.”

The secretary pondered a while, then spoke. “Whatever the original intention, the living dead have succeeded in taking the city, even without the duke.”

They had arrived at the Lector’s tent, where their spiritual leader was still questioning a series of witnesses who had fled the city. Before him was a bedraggled fellow, who at first sight might be taken for a country vagabond, but his rags were the remnants of city fashions and his beard had recently been trimmed in the style of the swaggering city watch. The Lector was standing, which was unusual for such a situation as this. One would expect him to be seated upon a throne, while those being examined or bringing petitions humbly stood before him. It was immediately obvious, however, that the Lector was simply too agitated to sit. He was pacing back and forth, and at this moment asking a question.

“Where did they come from?”

The raggedy man’s head twitched and Biagino caught sight of his eyes – wide and staring, as if he was still witnessing some horror right now. “Some came from the sea, my lord.”

“In boats? Ships?”

“Some, yes. I saw one rise up from the water itself, to drag itself up onto the wharf. The rope he’d been hanged with still around his neck, his belly bloated.”

“But the rest, the ones from the ships?”

“They did not sail into the harbour, but came from ships that had been docked a while. There was fighting aboard – I heard the shots, the shouting. Then a while later, they came. More came from the Sea Garden, and those hanging at the shore line were cut loose by the others.”

“Surely the guards and marines were ordered against them?”

“I don’t know. There was fighting aplenty, but I don’t know anything about orders. The dead seemed to know what they were doing. They looked to arm themselves, each and every one, and they gathered in strength by the Sea gate. Then they swarmed through into the city itself.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Zombies1_zps10bce266.jpg)

“And then?” asked the Lector.

“I know not, my lord. That’s when I left.”

The Lector waved the man away without even looking at him, and another witness was brought before him, this time a young woman. Her skirts were so filthy she looked to have waded through a mire. Of course she had, thought Biagino. What would one not be willing to suffer to escape the clutches of an army of walking corpses?

“My lord, this girl is from the eastern quarter,” said the priest who had ushered her forward, “She saw a pack of ghouls.”

“Ghouls,” repeated the Lector, spitting the word out. “Where exactly did you see them?”

The girl did not hesitate. “I saw them first in the graveyard on the Colle Orientale, my lord. I can see it from my chamber window. Later, when I ran away, they were everywhere. Everyone was screaming, men and boys were fighting, dying, then … then fighting again. If everyone hadn’t been fighting, the creatures would have seen me.”

She spoke quickly, almost keenly, perhaps needing hoping to expunge some of the horror by reporting what she had seen. It was obvious to Biagino that the Lector had not heard her last words, but was instead mulling his next questions. “What exactly did you see? Who commanded them?”

“The ones I saw in the Garden of Morr were half naked, horrible. They had pale flesh, black lips, sharp teeth, and were dressed only in rags. No-one commanded them, my lord. Like a pack of savage dogs they were, not soldiers, not men. When they came to the garden there was no one to stop them. More and more came, clambering over the walls …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ghouls1_zpsd2041356.jpg)

… until the garden swarmed with them. They tore at the gates, at the doors of the crypts. They wanted the corpses. I watched them.” Here she hesitated for a moment. “Just watched - too afraid to leave my house. It wasn’t only me. I think everyone was, at first anyway. When they’d dragged out all the bones they could find in the crypts, they set about the graves. I swear I saw a hand reach up out of the soil, and one of them fiends ran over to it to tug at it.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ghouls3_zps978929af.jpg)

“Others scratched at the soil, digging with their hands until they could pull the coffins up and out. Bent and twisted they might have been, but either they were awful strong or some enchantment lay on the ground. It seemed to part for them, as if it wanted to yield its crop of bones. Then … it was hard to look but I could not turn away … they chewed on the bones. I could hear them sucking out the rotten marrow. Other corpses came out of the ground moving of their own accord, the worms still feasting on their corrupted flesh, and these they allowed to walk away.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ghouls2_zps7af45288.jpg)

“Still other grisly remains they piled up in one corner, snarling and snatching at each other as they did so.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Ghouls4_zps6cac0b92.jpg)

“The stench was horrid, my lord. The whole city smells like that now. You’ll know it if the wind changes.”

The Lector’s face registered disgust. Perhaps, thought Biagino, he remembers the foul miasma we all breathed in the battle? The girl was led away to be replaced by yet another refugee, an old, bent, grey-bearded man, who must surely have been helped to leave the city for it was plain he could not have run away himself.

“This man saw that which came from the crypts,” the priest by his side announced.

“Which crypts?” asked the Lector. He looked doubtful and Biagino knew why. The city’s ancient crypts were protected by powerful wards - locked by decades of prayer so that Morr’s hand alone held the key.

The old man coughed to clear his throat – a rather long business that might have annoyed or bemused those present were they not so concerned to hear what he had to say. Finally he spoke. “’Twas the old crypt by Le Panche, my lord. My companions left me near there while they searched to find a safe passage for us all.”

“Le Panche?” said the Lector. “So, not within the city bounds. Go on.”

The old man coughed again, not taking so long this time. “I heard a clattering from inside and thought to look through the bars. My eyes are not what they used to be, though, my lord, so I couldn’t see much. Then there it was, in the deepest of shadows - a face.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Skels2_zps0ac10532.jpg)

“It seemed like a statue, except that it was looking at me. Well, the bars were iron – good and strong – so I was not afraid, and I wanted a better look. My companions had left a lantern hanging from the branch of a tree so that they could more easily find me again. So I took it and shined the light down the steps.”

He stopped, as if he were merely telling a bed time story to a child, and intending to create suspense. Once again, no-one complained, they merely wanted to know what he saw and cared not a jot how he told them.

“Then I saw them. Three there were and not statues but bones. The foremost wore a helm and held a shield before him, his lower jaw gone, his upper resting on the rim of his shield. The one behind carried a staff and made as if to shout at me. Of course, there was no sound. The third I couldn’t really see that well, and nor did I want to. I left them there, behind the bars, and I pray to Morr, my lord, that they are still there.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Skels1_zps2d90ebf5.jpg)

Biagino had heard enough. Ghouls, zombies, skeletons: it was the Battle of Pontremola all over again, but this time engulfing Viadaza, and the undead had won. He felt sick. It was not fear that made him so, however, but frustration and doubt. Had he not done all he could to serve both Morr and Tilea? He had raised an army and fought a mighty foe. Yet all for nothing, for now the undead were both north and south of them, and the army was broken and dispersed. He had lost his home, the Ebinans had lost theirs, and now the Viadazans too. Would the whole of Tilea succumb to this wickedness? Had Morr given them victory, hard won as it was, only to abandon them now?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on March 19, 2014, 08:16:29 PM
Very well done. Picture 6 is very dark, though - at least a real inkling of a face would be nice.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 19, 2014, 08:38:50 PM
I'm sure there is at least an inkling of a face there - it had to be just not quite visible but definitely something there, for that was what the character described. Besides - Picture 7 is exactly the same set up as Pic 6 but with my mobile phone torch shined into the corridor! :icon_biggrin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 20, 2014, 09:41:14 AM
I may be the first to ask, but I'd really like a painting tutorial.

I never answered this before, mainly because I was too embarrassed to write how very, very simply my technique is: Using enamels - paint black undercoat, leave several days to dry thoroughly, then paint cells of colour on (leaving black outline around everything), then lighten some of the colours and add a touch of the lighter shade here and there. Last, tidy up any black lines that got splodged with paint.

That's all there is to it - the only other major technique I use is doing big batches of figures - 40 belts, 40 shoes, 40 blades - etc. I've not changed my painting method in 26 years!!!!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on March 20, 2014, 09:49:49 AM
The last episode reminds me a bit of the Graveyard in the Witcher.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 20, 2014, 09:58:07 AM
I am ashamed to admit ignorance of 'The Witcher'. I shall begin a quick google hunt now and see if it is film, book or comic. Or something else?

Edit: Oh, never thought of that. It's a computer game. I've never been a player of video games (well, I used to play Defender in the 80s). My boys are growing up, though, so soon I will surely be dragged kicking and screaming into awareness of that particular aspect of modern life.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 30, 2014, 07:44:31 PM
General Report, End of Autumn IC 2401, Part 2

Is it Done?
Late Autumn in the City of Trantio, Central Tilea

It was perhaps true that any other Tilean ruler would by now have been raging about the state of affairs, shouting in frustration at his council, complaining at the dishonesty, laziness or cowardice of mercenaries. Not Prince Girenzo of Trantio, however. His demeanour never seemed to alter, and only the fact that he had been enquiring up to four times every day for news revealed how the matter weighed upon his mind. The condotta mercenaries of the Compagnia del Sole had had all the time they needed to strike at Pavona, indeed time enough to have returned laden with loot. Yet they were still out there, skirting around the realm of Pavona like a scavenging fox looking for a cunning opportunity to strike without risk to itself. Every report they sent to the prince gave a different excuse. First there was the threat of the Pavonan army, reckoned to be far greater in strength than the Compagnia. Then there was trouble with moving the artillery. Then it was camp fever and the flux. Eventually, news came that they were at last to strike at the newly developed settlement in Venafro just east of the conquered city of Astiano. Since then, nothing. That is until now.

The prince was mounted and armoured, engaged in military exercises with his gentlemen in the open field to the east of the city. It was a bright, blue sky day and he and his knights, bedecked as they were in plumes and their elaborately fluted armour, atop brightly barded horses, looked as if they had stepped out of the pages of a book of heroic tales. A little body of noblemen and officers, the prince’s ever present councillors, stood chatting to one side, for the most part clad in the traditional burgundy and green of Trantio.

Upon sight of an approaching party, the prince had halted, ordering his men-at-arms to form a rank. He removed his impressively plumed helmet and watched as one man stepped forwards from the rest of the newly arrived company, a Compagnia del Sole captain called Duilio Citti who had brought the first set of excuses to be presented to the Duke over six weeks ago. The captain bowed, apparently a dab hand at that particular courtly etiquette, and then awaited the prince’s command.

“Do not tarry, but say what you have come to say,” the prince ordered in his quiet, clipped voice. Whether a felon was being dragged before him for judgement or a newly acquired horse was being led in for his inspection, the voice was always the same.

“Your grace, I bring better news this time. The Compagnia is victorious. Venafro is laid waste and a good deal of loot taken. The Pavonan army was outmanoeuvred and failed to catch us.”

The prince did not respond immediately – it was not his way to rush. Like the others there, Captain Citti simply waited. Silence fell, interrupted only by the snorting of one horse and the pawing of another’s hooves at the dirt.

The captain wore a travelling cloak of soft leather over his blue and red tunic and hose. His own cap sported yellow and white feathers - the colours of the Compagnia’s Myrmidian emblem. The little company behind him, also garbed in blue and red accentuated with white and yellow, looked grimy and tired. Some had removed their helmets like peasants might remove their caps in front of their betters, but in the mercenaries’ case, they did so only for comfort. Indeed it would normally be considered inappropriate for soldiers to doff their headgear in the presence of officers, or to adopt such a lazy posture. Veteran mercenaries, however, went by different rules.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GirenzoTrantio1_zps52239b68.jpg)

“How far behind you are they?” asked the prince.

Captain Citti looked a little confused, as if he did not at first understand the question. “Your Grace, the Compagnia is not yet returning. They have laid siege to Astiano, that they might further harm Pavona.”

Prince Girenzo’s own captain, Sir Gino Saltaramenda, laughed. “So now, all of a sudden, the Compagnia has found courage?”

Captain Citti directed his answer to the prince, “We seek only to satisfy the terms of our contract, your grace, and to obey our orders.”

“You seek only to enrich yourselves,” said the prince, “which you can do best by not only being paid but taking a share of an even bigger haul of loot. I take it, then, that the Pavonan army are far removed, otherwise I doubt you would tarry so.”

“I know not exactly where the enemy is, but General Fortebraccio seemed satisfied that the risk was well worth taking. He does not intend to stay long at Astiano.”

“How so?” demanded the prince. “It is a walled town, is it not? Sieges take time.”

“It is walled, your grace, but there is little garrison to speak of, and they were previously conquered quickly and easily by the Pavonans.”

Again Sir Gino laughed. “The Pavonans were no doubt willing to take casualties, which is why they carried the day in a storm. I very much doubt your own soldiers would wish to climb ladders as their comrades fell on all sides to lie heaped and dying in the ditches below.”

The mercenary captain flashed a defiant look at Sir Gino, giving a glimpse, perhaps, of just what he was capable of. A man such as he, a veteran condottiere soldier, had most likely been through hell several times over, and himself created hell for others as often. “The Compagnia’s fighting reputation is unblemished these past ten years. Myrmidia’s blessing is ever upon us. We fight when it proves necessary.”

“And will it?” asked the prince. “Will it ‘prove necessary’?”

“No, your grace. General Fortebraccio and his army council believe we can quickly extract a heavy fine from the Astianans. Once that is obtained, we can leave.”

“Let’s hope the people of Astiano do not realise you don’t actually intend to attack,” said Sir Gino.

“And let us hope that the Pavonan army does not arrive in time to catch you,” added the prince. “For then I would lose the fine, the Compagnia and the plunder already taken.”

Captain Citti smiled, then gestured lazily to one of the men in the company behind him. “Sergino, the list.” A young man, unarmoured but sporting the Compagnia’s livery and girded with a heavy blade, strode forwards with a rolled paper in his hand. The captain continued, “This is a complete list of the plunder taken from Venafro, your grace.”

Prince Girenzo fixed his eyes upon Captain Citti. “We shall see, shall we not, when my agents inventory your baggage train, just how complete it is.”

Sergino walked towards the prince himself, eliciting smirks from the mercenaries and annoyed looks from the Trantian councillors. He proffered the paper but Prince Girenzo ignored him.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GirenzoTrantio2_zps00e90e59.jpg)

One of the councillors stepped forwards and coughed to catch Sergino's attention, then beckoned him over with his finger.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 17, 2014, 05:53:52 PM
A History of Tilea

Feeling guilty about not putting the historical background I gave to the players of this campaign into this thread, I have now done so.

You may simply want to read the stories as they come out (which is what I thought originally would be the best way to do this thread), but some of you might well want to get a better understanding of all of this, and the history of the region is a good way to do so. Also, I think I have a new player joining the campaign (replacing an inactive one) and thought it would be better to have all of this stuff chronologically placed in one thread, so that he can get up to speed more easily.

Due to character limits, I have slotted the history into three earlier posts, shifting some other things around. I have added some photographs and maps from the previous campaign which are directly relevant to the historical account.

Please see

http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php?topic=46787.msg835246#msg835246

and the subsequent two posts

http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php?topic=46787.msg835313#msg835313
and
http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php?topic=46787.msg836195#msg836195)

for the history.

Next up, later tonight, an account of religion in the human realms of Tilea. This will be lifted from an earlier piece in a previous campaign. Then, over the next few days, a new battle report is due, which I am working on right now.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 17, 2014, 07:06:11 PM
Playing catch up again ...

Loved the orc & goblin forts!

Where'd that bridge come from?  And the towers on either side?

Great read on the history, too!

 :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 17, 2014, 07:10:04 PM
Thanks GP. I am glad I put the history piece in now.

The fort was made from coffee stirrer sticks. Always grab a handful, not one!

The bridge is a 1970's 1:32 scale (i.e. 54 mm) WW2 Airfix model, and the towers are 1970's Timpo knights castle towers. The lesson to be learned here: never throw anything away!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 17, 2014, 08:25:40 PM
A Short Treatise on Religion in Tilea by Master Lamberto Petruzzi of Astiano, Presented to his Grace Duke Guidobaldo Gondi of Pavona in the Summer of IC 2401. May the glory of Morr shine wisdom into the hearts of all good men.

Adapted with corrections from the work of the Empire scholar Uther von Gelburg
 
No less than any of the human realms, the worship of the lawful gods plays a part in almost every Tilean’s life. Public and private beliefs cultivate a healthy fear of the immortal deities, bolstered by tradition, law and the powerful authority of churchmen, both spiritual and worldly, and not least the mysterious workings of the gods themselves. The world of men is so ordered that each has his place in the great scheme of things, authority stems from the gods down to princes and the highest clergy, then to noblemen of all ranks, further to gentlemen and priests of all degrees, to citizens and merchants, and finally reaches common labourers and peasants. Each bows only to the powers above them. As the gods hold council, presided by he who will one day rule them all, so too great princes must treat with other princes, clergy with clergy, nobles with nobles, and so on amongst peers downwards through creation.

But the exercise of faith does not always yield peace and harmony, for it has so often been expressed in conflicting ways. Noble priests conduct high ceremonies in the grandest temples accompanied by serene hymns, yet outside ranting preachers stir the common people’s fears with apocalyptic warnings to conjure dire visions and elicit the much less musical sound of frightened wailing. Our realm also boasts numerous, humble, godly folk who only quietly complain about nepotistic priests, and ascetic hermits whose lives contrast starkly with the wayward ways of hedonistic clerics. And as the wildest men of faith openly bare the scars of their self-scourging, the most gentle simply give offerings so that priests may pray for their souls, and the rich gift gold to build temples and so ensure their names are ever after remembered.
 
The three most influential churches remain those of Morr, Myrmidia and Mercopio – commonly know as ‘the Three’. When, upon rare occasions, an edict is jointly issued by the rulers of these churches, it is sealed with the symbol ‘MMM’. But of course the most favoured church in Tilea is rightfully that of Morr. It came to prominence a little over an hundred and fifty years ago, when Morr was finally recognised by all truly enlightened Tileans as outranking every other god. It was then, and is now, accepted that as all mortal things must die, and as Morr rules over death, he should therefore be the most respected and feared of all the deities. Furthermore, as the other gods rule over mortals, all of whom will ultimately yield their souls into the Morr’s care, then the gods themselves surely recognise his supernatural authority over even them.

It is Morr who must be placated if one’s soul is not to suffer eternal torments in the afterlife. Those who, by neglect or wilfulness, fall out of favour with him are doomed to become troubled spirits - sorrowful, fragmented souls dwelling in the shadows of the darkest nights. Or worse, they might be resurrected by wicked practitioners of the black arts as walking corpses, forced to un-live a fate most definitely worse than death. So it is that the church of Morr has always been gifted the greatest bequests and offerings, its holy ceremonies attended by the greatest crowds. Wealth begets wealth, for as the church acquires land so to it acquires rental income; as it acquires gold, so too can it invest in enterprises to yield ever more gold. Now its ornate edifices tower above those of other temples and churches, its priests are adorned more richly, and its influence in worldly affairs is much more widely felt than that of any other church. All as it should be for the greater glory of Morr.
 
The Tilean church of Morr no longer concerns itself solely with funerary rites as it did in the distant past and still does in the northern realms of the Old World, instead its temples ring daily with the sound of chanting and hymns as cannons and choristers petition Morr to protect the souls in his care. Few Morrite priestly orders garb themselves in the old, traditional black robes. Most wear a grey habit, with dark red surplices, hoods and caps to represent the colours of the late evening sky, a sign that they alone can intercede between mortals and the god of death, between day light and dark night, between life and death. Whether their robes are plain linen or wool, silk or satin, adorned with gold braid or silver lace, they remain outward signs of the role they play in every mortal's passage into the afterlife.
 
Certain ignoble events have undoubtedly shaken the Morrite church in the past: the most famous scandal being the shame and dishonour brought about in IC 2343 by Frederigo Ordini. This Arch Lector and overlord of Remas hatched a diabolical plot with the enemies of all mankind, the ratto uomo, and sent many thousands of brave men to their deaths in a false war. Yet although this did have long term consequences in the realm of Remas, as well as amongst the princely rulers of the city states who innocently sent their own soldiers to support the doomed venture, it did not shake the beliefs of the vast majority of common Tileans. This is mainly due to the simple fact the church of Morr has never claimed that individual men, even priests, lectors and arch lectors, are infallible. Frederigo was declared insanely wicked, the victim of spiritual assault by demonic beings whose greed and pride had caused his terrible fall from grace. This decree did not quite satisfy all Morrite clergymen, however, and the renowned, ranting reformer Sagrannalo of Trantio used the doubts concerning the true nature of the church’s higher clergy to gather an army-sized mob of schismatic, peasant followers, who set about ‘cleansing’ temples. (In truth, merely ransacking and robbing them.) Once this violent and misplaced reaction to the Frederigo plot was finally dealt with, the church both regained its proper place in the hearts of men and resumed its growth. 

According to the established Tilean churches’ laws, the rulers of the three main churches - the arch-lector of Morr, the arch-priest of Myrmidia and the high priest of Mercopia - wield great influence when acting in concert. They can command the investiture of princes. They can excommunicate heretics, even rulers, theoretically removing all authority those princes might claim over their subjects. They can declare holy war against states, clans or peoples serving unlawful gods. This traditional cooperation is still practised for matters of great import, involving the great nobles and principalities, but in many matters of a more petty nature, the Morrite arch-lector rarely concerns himself with the formal ceremonies required to express other churches’ willing acceptance, knowing full well that the Mercopian high priest and Myrmidian archpriest do not care to go through the whole rigmarole upon every occasion it is theoretically required. If these church rulers would also accept the Morrite arch-lector’s rightful authority as the direct servant of the most senior deity, then such ceremonies could much simplified to become merely a matter of acknowledging and accepting of the holy church of Morr’s rulings.
 
The church of Myrmidia is very well respected in Tilea, and indeed there are few soldiers, whether militia or mercenary, who do not pray to her  - although many only remember do so when bloody battle is imminent. Many priests and priestesses of Myrmidia still wear the traditional robes of white and red, but there are several well established regional orders who garb themselves in different colours, such as the Reman Myrmidian clergy in their greys, yellows and greens. Mercopio could be considered the god of day-to-day life for a vast number of Tileans, as nearly every purchase or deal involves a whispered prayer to him, and his name is invoked upon deeds, bills and receipts. Mercopian clerics are to be found residing over civil law court matters such as inheritance, sales, mortgages, endowments, leases and trusts, as well as matters of debt, foreclosure and bankruptcy. The goddess Verena is of course invoked in criminal law trails, herself worshiped by magistrates and clerks throughout the realm, but with considerable overlap in civil and criminal law both gods are often called upon to bless and guide all those involved in legal matters.
 
Most of the other lawful gods of the Old World pantheon are worshiped somewhere in Tilea, having shrines and chapels, guardians and priests. These ‘lesser’ faith priests and priestesses are often called brothers or sisters rather than fathers or mothers. Manaan, Shallya, Taal and Verena are the most prominent churches outside of the Three. Shallyan sisters have hospitals in every city and major town, as well as country hospitals for those in need of isolation. It is widely believed that secret shrines to the trickster Ranald are hidden away in the slums of all the biggest settlements, and although his more devout followers are distrusted and unwelcomed by most people, they have never yet been put under edict of excommunication. Followers of Khaine the Murderer, or the vile gods of Chaos, as well as all the known wicked gods, are all by law subject to excommunication, making it every lawful Tilean’s duty to thwart, arrest and if necessary, kill them. Petty shrines to foreign deities, like Ulric and Sigmar are tolerated in the cities and ports commonly frequented by foreigners.

As a final note, I must mention a trend in evidence in our realm of Tilea, which is novel and philosophic in nature, however foolish and false, and is of a kind not commonly found elsewhere in the realms of men. Perhaps it is an inevitable error, considering the frantic swirl of ideas and invention encouraged in Tilea? Artists conjure illusions and masterpieces worthy of wizards or priests, while architects are guided by mathematical principles to create buildings to rival those made by elves or dwarfs. Such are the successes of these endeavours that misguided men begin to wonder whether their own marvellous works might equal those of the gods. I have myself heard, upon several occasions, scholars discussing deities as if they were metaphors rather than reality, as if they were merely the stuff of myth, superstition or literature. Some consider magic not to be the work of gods, but instead a mysterious, dangerous, yet entirely natural phenomenon, caused perhaps by sympathetic resonances arising from men’s wills and alchemical admixtures of potent ingredients, or perhaps arising from etheric currents flowing both above and below ground like air and water might do, or even as the manifestations of a neighbouring yet quite alien plane of reality. (All this despite the obviously potent blessings the wisest priests can channel through prayer.) Many such people would rather recognise ‘Fortuna’ as their only goddess, not in the form of a heavenly, immortal being, but rather as an all-pervading force, the spun web upon which all our lives are caught. I would not wish to labour this point overmuch, however, for such irreligious men are thankfully few in number, their misguided beliefs cannot prosper, and they themselves will surely dwindle to nought in time.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 19, 2014, 06:12:14 PM
What to do with Caution on a Still Day
Battle Report: Part One

Very Late Autumn IC2401, Near Astiano, Central Tilea

As evening fell, all was quiet in the peaceful hamlet of Farina. Simply a cluster of houses, little bigger than an inn, it lay two miles north-east of the town of Astiano. Its inhabitants had had their fair share of troubles of late, what with the Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona’s recent conquest of Astiano, and the inevitable looting and protection payment demands by scavenging bands of soldiers. Now they had learned that the infamous Compagnia del Sole, reputedly the largest condottieri force currently active in Tilea, were outside the walls of Astiano. Happily, the mercenaries seemed keener to extract money from the town’s citizens than to scour the land around. If the council of Astiano chose to pay promptly, it was perhaps possible that Farina would this time remain relatively undisturbed.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav1_zps133e0951.jpg)

The Astianans were indeed willing to raise the necessary bribe quickly, but their new lord, Duke Guidobaldo was moving even more quickly. He had been riding at the head of his state’s army trying to catch the Compagnia del Sole before they could do too much of what mercenaries were famous for doing – looting and burning. He had already failed to prevent their destructive raid on his newly completed settlement of Venafro, which sat astride the road joining his old realm with his new possession, and had no intention of allowing the robbers to rob even more from Astiano.

Upon the approach of an outnumbering foe, any other mercenary company wouls most likely have fled away. General Micheletto Fortebraccio and his officers had no intention of doing so, however, for their baggage train, filled with the goods stolen from Venafro, was not exactly capable of speedy movement. Every officer agreed that the loot took precedence, and the fact they were on the verge of being made even richer by the terrified populace of Astiano simply increased their greed. When the Compagnia’s council of war considered the matter of their reputation, they were not worried over what would become of it should they turn tail and flee, but rather encouraged by the fact that it was surely good enough to make the Pavonans think twice before committing to battle. Had not the Duke of Pavona spent the last six weeks hesitantly probing and manoeuvring in an effort to scare them away without actually having to meet them in the field? So it was that the Compagnia, sensibly concentrated in one camp for just such a situation, marched boldly towards the advancing Pavonans. They would not wait to fight defensively with Astiano to their rear, but chose to attack, and in so doing hopefully fuel the enemy’s doubts the enemy concerning battle.

The people of Farina ran from their houses, taking only what precious belongings they could easily carry, and as the sky darkened, the abandoned settlement grew very quiet indeed.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav2_zps8b80c0e2.jpg)

Then, from both east and west simultaneously, came sounds – drums, horns, shouting. The two armies approached, and both were already arraying from line of march to line of battle. Captain Brizzio Scarpa led the Compagnia’s mounted men at arms on the far right flank, advancing over the low hill towards Farina. Every man wore full plate armour and rode a barded horse, and all but Scarpa carried a yellow and white striped lance, lending the regiment a most pretty appearance.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav3_zps6c121074.jpg)

Upon the other side of Farina, on the flatter, less woody ground, came the Compagnia’s main strength. The gunners hauled the two artillery pieces onto the last of the little hills, while below them the foot-slogging men at arms and the large regiment of halberdiers marched in line and in step. Out on the far left flank a large company of crossbowmen rushed forwards to plant their protective pavises and begin the skilled business of spanning their crossbows.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav4_zps17296c25.jpg)

The Pavonans came on in a not dissimilar array. Mirroring the mecenaries, they planting one of their own artillery pieces on a hill, while their horse soldiers were arrayed on their left and a large body of handgunners on the right, with their massed foot regiments in the centre. Their line, however, overlapped the Compagnia’s for they had two large bodies of mounted soldiers, not two but four regiments of foot, and three of those with detachments. They were also equipped in a most modern manner, for on their far right they placed a helblaster, a novelty acquired by the duke from Nuln.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav6_zps358c5927.jpg)

Despite the obvious disparity, the Compagnia del Sole’s light horse, a small body of mounted crossbowmen on little better than nags, moved also to the far flank in an attempt to match the foe’s line …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav5_zps6ea88c00.jpg)

… although this did mean they would face a much larger body of pistoliers who were already trotting boldly forwards past the little hamlet. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav9_zps1df3264e.jpg)
……………………………………….

General Micheletto Fortebraccio surveyed the enemy, noting their numbers, their arms, their disposition. Their blue and white banners fluttered prettily above the glittering steel of their helms and halberds. One thing that caught his eye immediately was their uniformity – not just in their livery, but also the steady ease of their advance, the neatness of their ranks and files. This was certainly no hurriedly mustered force of ill-trained militia, but an army both practised in drill and sure of their cause. Perhaps it was not only their leader Duke Guidobaldo who thought himself favoured of Morr? Could it be that the soldiers were also emboldened by religious fervour?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav7_zps6ef84324.jpg)

The general turned to address the man at his side - Banhaltte, the black-bearded and wild eyed northerner who carried the halberdiers’ magically imbued standard. “What do you think of the foe, brave Bann? Are they the blessed servants of a god?”
   
Banhaltte grinned. “They dress well enough. ‘Twill be a shame to besmear such pretty clothes with blood.”

Fortebraccio should not have expected anything but bravado from the ensign. Many other men were within earshot, and Banhaltte knew what they needed to hear - pondering aloud whether or not they served the god of death was perhaps not the best conversation to have right now. Taking the ensign’s lead, the general laughed. Spotting the movement of wagons behind the enemy lines, he said: “And look, brave Bann, they brought even more baggage. At this rate, we’re going to end up with too much to carry!”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav8_zps5e7bfd23.jpg)

What happened next was not what the general expected. Rather than advance in line to bring all their strength to bear as one, the Pavonan line broke up as their handgunners and archers moved ahead while the main fighting units remained where they were. In doing so, they even blocked their heavy horse’s line of advance! Maybe, he thought, the foe was not so confident after all? Maybe they thought to fight this battle at a safe distance, afraid to engage in the melee? Or maybe they knew something he didn’t know?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav11_zps7ff355cd.jpg)

It now dawned on him that the enemy might have more units moving up on the Compagnia’s right flank, obscured by the hamlet. If so, then he hoped Captain Scarpa could deal with it, or at the least find a way to warn him about it. What he could not know was exactly what the enemy had upon that flank.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 19, 2014, 08:02:50 PM
Oooh!  Tilean vs. Tilean!  A battle is about to be joined! :icon_biggrin:

And where'd those buildings come from?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 01, 2014, 08:55:18 AM
Yeah GP, Tileans all round. One side purely mercenaries, the other more Empire like (i.e. one using a modified T&G/EoW list, the other a standard Empire list. Neither being anything akin to a power list - both very fluffy and WYSIWYG.

The buildings - some are bought, most are made from foam card, balsa, modelling clay and roof-tile sections.



What to do with Caution on a Still Day
Battle Report: Part Two

A dozen Pavonan pistoleers advanced confidently over the hilly ground to the west of the hamlet. Each was furnished with at least a brace of pistols, and all enclosed in well-fitted armour. Several sported blue and white plumes upon their helmets. Their mastery of horsemanship was very obvious as they came on in close order even over the rough ground.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav10_zps7391a8f0.jpg)

Captain Brizzio Scarpa, commanding the Compagnia’s heavy horse quickly realised he could not simply choose to ignore them and continue his attempt to flank the enemy’s main line just as the battle was joined. To do so would most certainly leave these pistoliers free to wreak havoc at the rear of the Compagnia’s line – perhaps killing the artillery crews on the hill, or even capturing the precious baggage train. Thus it was that – reluctantly - he gave the order for his regiment to turn and face the foe. His heart sank as he did so, for he knew full well how difficult it could be for a body of heavily armoured riders such as his own to get to grips such a slippery opponent. Light horsemen could often perform a nimble dance when they had to.

As his men turned, the enemy unleashed a loud volley of pistol shot at the Compagnia’s mounted crossbowmen (Game note: 24 shots!) Unsurprisingly several of the Compagnia soldiers fell as a consequence, leaving only one pair alive. These remained before the foe, (Game Note: I got lucky with the panic test!) stunned and not exactly sure what to do.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav12_zpsa5b305bd.jpg)

What Scarpa had not noticed was the enemy cannon upon the hill on the other side of the hamlet. The men crewing that cannon had, however, spotted the sunlight glinting off the horse’s steel carapace as the mounted men at arms turned into position. The gunners grinned as they hefted the piece around to aim its muzzle through the gap between the tower and its neighbour right at the horsemen’s rear rank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav14_zps5e23df74.jpg)

The ball whizzed by the buildings to decapitate two of the riders, much to the confusion of their comrades, who heard the awful ‘thud, thud’ before the distant blast of the cannon. No doubt keen to vacate their current position, they spurred their horses on to attack the rear of the pistoliers who had just cut down the last two crossbowmen. When they realised heavy horse were about to close on them, the Pavonan pistoliers’ bravery dissipated and they fled away pell-mell not to return to the battle. (Game Note: A chancy flee roll took them too far and thus off the table.) The mercenary men at arms let loose a huzzah and, under Captain Scarpa’s orders, began the business of reforming so that they could go about their original intentions. Captain Scarpa prayed that they were not too late.



The Compagnia del Sole’s maroon flags fluttered in the blustery wind as their two main bodies of foot soldiers awaited orders. General Fortebraccio was growing worried. Captain Scarpa and the horse should have made their appearance by now, and yet there was no sight of them. A little while ago he had heard the sound of a volley of firearms, perhaps pistols, perhaps handguns – he could not be sure. Since then, nothing. If his own horse did not come around the flank it would leave his two regiments facing three enemy regiments of foot and their horse. The enemy line would extend far beyond his own, allowing them to overlap, flank and so engulf the Compagnia foot. Fine soldiers as General Fortebraccio’s men were, it was not likely they would stand their ground if attacked on both sides while pressed to the front.

Not a man to delay when events needed a decision, the general glanced over at Captain Gaetano over on the front and left of the foot men at arms to his right.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav13_zps805e1d6e.jpg)

Gaetano’s white hair was blowing wildly, while his heavy blade was held before him, shining sharply. General Fortebraccio knew the old soldier would follow his command without question, and already – even before he had fully realised what he was going to do – a pang of guilt played through him. He was damned if he was going to lose the loot they had already taken, and doubly damned if he would risk the Compagnia’s annihilation to boot. It was time to leave, taking the loot with them. Not soon, but right now, while the men at arms where able to hinder the enemy’s inevitable pursuit. The guilt he had felt before now surged - not because he was going to ask Gaetano to fight, nor even because it was a fight the captain would surely lose, but rather because he would have to lie to his old companion, and cruelly too. As he could hardly make it appear he was sending Gaetano and the men at arms to their death simply so that he could abandon them and save his own skin, he would thus have to order the advance in such a way that Gaetano and his men did not realise what was truly intended. It was a lie only by omission, but that did not make the general feel any better.

So, having commanded the drummer by his side, the beat went up for a ‘right-hand advance-oblique’, a manuoevre the Compagnia had practised on several occasions: the right-most unit would march on, the next waiting a moment before doing so, resulting in their staggered arrival at the foe’s line of battle, hopefully allowing the second and subsequent units time to respond to whatever the enemy did and thus better protect the flank of the first unit. Except that after the order was given and the men at arms moved on, General Fortebraccio held up his hand to signal his own regiment to stay put. And so they stood, watching the other regiment march out alone. Having already lost five men to the enemy’s magic and seven more to a well placed cannon ball, the halberdiers were sufficiently stunned enough not to question the order.

The men at arms’ advance turned into something of a charge at the little body of handgunners ahead of them, but they did not reach as the enemy fled away through their own knights. (See Game Note #1 below)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav15_zpsc0c0f2c7.jpg)

Banhaltte the ensign frowned, then revealed his confusion to General Fortebraccio with a gesture. “We’re not advancing?” he asked.

The general simply stood silently, watching, his hand still held aloft. His guilt was welling to unbearable levels, mixing with anxiety and regret. All his men were hardened mercenaries - his men at arms skilled warriors clad in plate steel, his halberdiers emboldened in any fight by the magical aura of their blessed banner. He looked again at the foe. Yes, they had the more bodies of men, but those bodies were smaller than his, even after all the damage his halberdiers had received, and they were not so well armoured.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav16_zps361903da.jpg)

Nevertheless, he found himself signalling to his halberdiers to fall back facing the foe. As the drum beat the command, he could just hear Banhaltte words, this time said with bitterness: “We’re not advancing.” Then the general spotted something between the trees and the hamlet, something coloured yellow and white.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav17_zps51c9e285.jpg)

It was Scarpa and his horse. General Fortebraccio had to stop himself from crying “No!” His thoughts were half prayer, half anguish: Myrmidia forgive me. What have I done? Banhaltte sniffed, a mundane sort of sound would well suit the task of gaining a fellow’s attention on a lazy summer’s evening in an alehouse. General Fortebraccio looked at him. Raising his eyebrows, Banhaltte announced, “We should have advanced.” (See Game Note #2)

Captain Gaetano and his men at arms had apparently not noticed the general’s deception, for they marched boldly onwards – some even let out a cheer when they spotted their own heavy horsemen off on the flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav18_zps0e7b53d2.jpg)

Captain Scarpa halted the horsemen and watched as the men at arms were charged.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav19_zpsa331e221.jpg)

The foot soldiers received the charge defiantly, barely budging an inch, and after taking some casualties from the foes’ first thrusts, brought down their heavy blades, pole-arms and hammers to take down some of the foe. Scarpa knew this should have been the moment he and his company joined the fray, but he knew also that something was wrong. Where were the others? Had the enemy somehow broken the general’s large regiment of Halberdiers with magic and missiles? When he looked across the field, however, he saw the General Fortebraccio and most of the halberdiers were still present, just not where they should be. Worse than that, they were – albeit steadily - falling back. 

Then, just as the melee in the centre of the field became a furious, clattering mess of screams and blood, the halberdiers turned and began marching away.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav21_zps415606fb.jpg)

The battle was lost. Captain Scarpa now realised that Fortebraccio must have already decided it was lost some time ago, and was in the process of ensuring that neither the Compagnia nor the loot was also lost. So it was that he too ordered a withdrawal, leading his horsemen away just before the foot-soldiers in the centre were finally broken and the foe spilled over them and onwards in the grip of battle lust.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CompVsPav22_zpsd6925556.jpg)

A handful of crossbowmen, and the surviving knights and halberdiers now moved hastily away, not quite disorderly, urging the baggage train on as best they could. It was not the Compagnia del Sole’s finest moment.


Game Note #1: At the point I made this decision I did not realise that the heavy horse where going to successfully drive off the Pavonan pistoliers, and also have time to get up to where I originally wanted them. So, being the campaign GM, commanding an NPC mercenary force, I rolled a dice to decide if the Compagnia might take the campaign-rules option of a fighting withdrawal from the field. For this to work, one has to have a unit of suitable strength fight for more than one round against the enemy. If so, this counts as a ‘holding action’ and allows the player to retreat units off their own table edge to begin flight from the battlefield. It’s a risky manoeuvre, involving rolling on various campaign-rules’ charts, but it seemed my only option in light of what I thought was almost certain defeat otherwise. I wish I had noticed the horse, however, because with them coming around to support the flank, I probably had a good chance of victory!

Game Note #2: I felt stupid at this point, blaming my tactical rubbishness on the fact that I was taking photos and making notes and such. If only the halberdiers were at the men at arms’ side! I consoled myself with the fact that the enemy knights had not one but two well equipped lords in their body (Duke Guidobaldo and Lord Polcario), so probably would have ‘gubbed’ my boys. But in truth I knew I had turned an exciting drama full of possibility into a desperate sort of drama, full of running away!

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 17, 2014, 12:28:09 PM
A Blessed Army: Part One

Ridraffa


It had been a long afternoon. The leaders of the exiled Pavonan Dwarfs had been discussing their future, working their way through every place they might make their new home; one by one dismissing them. Now, as the sky darkened on this late Autumn day, they addressed yet another possibility - Remas.

“Surely Remas would be no more welcoming to us than Pavona?” asked Master Boldshin, his voice beginning to strain after the long and oft’ heated discussion. “By which of course, I mean that they would refuse us all hospitality. Duke Guidobaldo is Morrite to the marrow of his bones, while Remas is the very seat of the Church of Morr. If the duke believes dwarfs a corrupting presence in his city, then how much more must we be hated in Remas?”

Glammerscale, apparently still thriving upon the debate, shook his head. “No, good cousin, that is not so. The Church of Morr is a broad church, and the difference between the Morrite faith of Remas and Pavona is not merely one of degree, but rather one of doctrine. Indeed, I have heard it said that the arch-lector has seriously considered declaring the Pavonan Church of Morr to be schismatical, and that in truth he would already have done so were it not for the evil in the north and the consequent need for Tilean unity.”

Master Boldshin tugged tightly at his copious whiskers, as if trying to reign in the welling frustration building inside his frame. “You say no, cousin, then prove the very point I was making! If the arch-lector yearns for unity, then he will hardly act in such a way that would upset Duke Guidobaldo. Welcoming those exiled by the duke is no way to endear oneself to him.”

Raising his hand whilst delivering a token cough, the diminutive Norgrug Borgosson, servant to Master Gallibrag Honourbeard, craved attention. As he himself had only yesterday returned from Remas, no-one thought it odd that he might have something to say. Once Gallibrag had gestured his consent, Norgrug spoke quietly and assuredly. “Remas has dwarfs in its forces – an entire regiment no less – not just those dwelling within its walls. The Remans would not turn us away – not for being dwarfs, at least. They might have other reasons, but that would not be their motive.”

“The Reman Overlord Matuzzi commands the city state’s army, not the arch lector,” said Boldshin, almost falling over his words he was in such a rush to disagree. “For all we know the arch lector is even now suggesting a termination of contract for the dwarfen mercenaries, as well as banishment for all the rest. We cannot act so foolishly as to settle ourselves in another city so likely to be on the brink of turning out our kind. It would be bad enough if they were merely to prevent our prosperity, and our utter ruin if they too drove us away.”

Norgrug smiled, perhaps in an attempt to mollify Boldshin. If so, he failed, for the most of the company took it as a mocking sort of expression, some being shocked at a mere servant’s audacity. “Not so, master Boldshin. The day before my departure I witnessed the arch lector himself, and several many priests of the triumvirate churches, blessing the Reman army, dwarfs included.”

Boldshin’s pessimism was not to be defeated so easily. “Then what if it is the Overlord who is of a like mind with Duke Guidobaldo? Maybe he will move against the dwarfs despite priestly attitudes?”

“He will not, for he is merely Overlord in name. It is Arch Lector Calictus who rules in Remas.”

“No, Norgrug,” countered Boldshin. “That cannot be. The Remans themselves ruled against such a thing. Not since Arch-Lector Frederigo have they allowed a priest to hold both spiritual and secular office. It is their law.”

Norgrug pondered a moment. “I suppose it could well still be their law, for the Overlord remains Overlord. He has, however, named Arch-Lector Calictus his captain general, his first minister, and some more offices besides. I can assure you, Calictus rules in Remas.”

The assembled dwarfs became agitated. Confusion was mixed with disbelief, contrariness with doubt, and the questions came tumbling out: Was Norgrug certain? Why did no one else know this? How did it come about?

Norgrug attempted to acknowledge each query, then set about answering as best he could. “The outside world believes Remas to have been somewhat inactive of late. Calictus seemed to restrict himself only to making proclamations ordering the people of Tilea to unite against the vampire duke, while the Reman Overlord Matuzzi himself was conspicuous in his lack of action.”

Glammerscale was nodding. “That much is certainly true. I myself have heard merchants joking at Remas’ expense, mocking the irony that while Viadaza assembled a crusading army, Remas itself failed to answer its own lector’s call. Yet I did also hear some rumours of upset in the Reman streets: demands for action and that sort of thing.”

“They were more than rumours,” said Norgrug. “I learned a lot from the dwarfs in Remas. They told me that the people of Remas went from speeches and complaints, petitions and paper combats to open riots, illegal assemblies, mutinous militia actions in the space of little more than a week. Now there is indeed a new government - not a new form of government, rather an old sort, of a kind that until recently most Remans thought was no longer a possibility. The growing threat in the north, where entire towns and cities have fallen to loathsome undead armies and all have succumbed to an unending, waking nightmare, has brought the Church of Morr into prominence, as it was in years gone by. Every human in Remas accepts that of all authorities in Tilea, either priestly or secular, the Morrites are best able to thwart the undead and cleanse the land of their corruption. As such, my informers suspected that the Arch-Lector would eventually have been begged to accept command of Remas’ army, if not the whole city state. That this came about so quickly seems to have been due to Calictus’ exceptional ability to manipulate the tangled web of Reman politics, deftly mixing well-placed bribes, threats, promises and suggestions, so transforming this re-emergent desire for the church’s guidance into very real power.”

The company fell quiet, Boldshin included. It was the eccentric – How can a dwarf wizard be described as anything but eccentric? - Master Glammerscale who broke the silence.

“I do not doubt you, Norgrug, for I do not doubt the wisdom of the Reman dwarfs. Yet, if such change is afoot, then we can not take anything for granted. All that we think we know is made uncertain by the tumbling of events. We would be walking into the unknown.” There was a general murmur of agreement. “If we are willing to do so, then I believe there is another course of action, no more or less uncertain, that we ought to consider. I have a letter here which not only invites us to settle, but promises prosperity and protection …  ”

………………………………………………………………………………………
A Blessed Army: Part Two

Remas



Arch Lector of the Tilean Church of Morr, His Magnificent Holiness Calictus II, was not the only high cleric to attend the blessing. As his command of the Reman army had been confirmed by the Triumverate churches and the edict sealed with ‘MMM’, then the Mercopian High Priest and Myrmidian Arch-Priest were also present. The three church rulers, with the attendants and guards, as well as several clergy from the minor churches, stood before the oldest Morrite church in the city, that of Saint Ettore of the Flayed Arm.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas1_zps3e11f67e.jpg)

Calictus II wore a cloak of vermillion, the traditional peaked hat of a lector, and a red and grey striped cassock bedecked with solid gold roundels. His two bodyguards, both northerners sworn to lifelong service, were liveried in the orange, blue and red of Remas, while his captain of the guard, the moustachioed Kislevite Lukyan Soldatovya, wore full plate armour.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas2_zps557e4a06.jpg)

Flavio Tognazzi, High Priest of the Church of Mercopio, carried a shoulder height staff of bullion silver, topped with a golden knob. His gold-rimmed mitre added a foot to his height and his heavy, multi-layered vestments - cassock, camisia, surplice and stole. He held his right hand aloft to deliver his blessing as the soldiers marched by, his own flamboyantly slashed and puffed bodyguard standing boldly behind him.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas4_zps5c12960d.jpg)

The Myrmidian Arch-Priest Luccino De Sicca was attended by a novice priestess and two mercenary guards. He wore a heavy hood, gauntlets of thick leather, a robe trimmed in yellow and green and carried a staff fashioned from the preserved remains of the spear used by the hero Publius Cornelius to kill a three headed dragon during the time of the ancient Reman Empire – a staff now tipped with a golden reliquary containing the ashes of said Publius Cornelius (who, of course, perished in the fire  gushing from all of three mouths even as his magical spear pierced the triple-headed beast’s single heart).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas3_zps8c24a178.jpg)

The first soldiers to pass the little crowd of high clergy and attendants were the dwarfs, a solid mass of iron and steel, wearing armour over armour. Their presence in the Reman army, acting as the General’s Lifeguard, deployed in the most privileged position on the right of the army’s vanguard, and always first in the column of march, they were certain proof that the Remans were not of a like mind with the duke of Pavona. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas7_zpsbef37da1.jpg)

Next in line was the Cathayan Company, the foreign sound of its brass horns no longer a strange one in the city. The soldiers bore an ensign bearing an old emblem of Morr, the key to the afterlife, and beneath their scale armour wore the blues and reds of Remas. Their main fighting body, armed with a far eastern style of spear that could double as a halberd, was preceded and followed by crossbow companies.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas5_zps0daeb1a7.jpg)

The Cathayans were followed by the mercenary pikemen, a regiment of fifty northerners, nearly all from the most northern regions of the Empire. Their pikes, held at high-port like a forest of young trees bending in a gale - had been decorated with the city’s colours, while they themselves wore the same colours in and amongst their own attire. They were led by their swaggering major, who had a huge, two handed sword sloped upon his shoulder.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/NewRemas6_zps96c9a914.jpg)

And the parade continued.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 30, 2014, 05:59:36 PM
She Returns

Biagino found it difficult to keep up with Ugo. Not that Ugo, a coachman by profession, clad in a long, thick leather coat over a mail shirt and carrying the heaviest looking firearm Biagino had ever seen, was particularly fleet of foot, rather that he was less wary about making a noise. Biagino hated being so close to someone who seemed wholly intent on advertising their presence to all and sundry. This was most definitely neither the time nor the place to be so loud. Three times Biagino had pleaded with his companion to be quiet, only to be answered by an instruction to hurry up. While Ugo wanted speed, the priest wanted quiet. They were in agreement about one thing, however, neither wanted to be there at all.

They had been sent to the woods north-east of Busalla, close to where the road branched to Viadaza, due to reports of enemy movement thereabouts. Up until now the Viadazan undead had stayed within the city bounds. If they were moving further a-field then it could prove a very dangerous hindrance to the activities of the last remnants of the Morrite crusader’s army. Right now, Biagino was acutely aware that the enemy could prove very dangerous to him personally any moment. While there was concealment for him and Ugo in the many shadows, there was also concealment for anyone or anything else. For all he knew these woods could be bursting with night terrors and grave-horrors, and a monstrous fiend waited behind the very next tree. Perhaps only dumb luck had kept them alive so far? It did not help that every second tree adopted the guise of some ghoulish creature, the branches so easily transforming into ragged limbs reaching out to claw at him.
 
At long last and quite suddenly, Ugo began to move cautiously, bringing his boots down softly and carefully. Stifling the urge to vent his annoyance by pointing out that Ugo had obviously been capable of silent movement all along, Biagino instead chose to give thanks to Morr that his companion had finally seen sense. The feeling of satisfaction was short lived, however, as it now occurred to him that there must be some pressing reason for the coachman’s sudden caution. One look at Ugo’s wide eyed face confirmed this suspicion.

“What is it?” Biagino whispered. Ugo put his finger to his lips. It was an action which in light of his previous carelessness would have much exasperated Biagino if it were not for the manifestation of a fear so strong as to override all other emotions. Ugo removed his finger, and very slowly – as if to move his arm suddenly would in itself be dangerous - reached out to point through the trees. Once Biagino turned to look, Ugo hefted his dwarf-made, iron and steel monstrosity of a blunderbuss, and peered, wide-eyed, through the trees himself.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EntryIntoViadaza1_zps60b82bbd.jpg)

“There they are,” Ugo said, in words made of little more than a breath. “This is as close as we go, and we don’t stay long.”

Biagino was not going to argue. One look and he could see they had almost stepped into a nightmare. He was no innocent. He had faced the undead in battle. But then he had an army about him, strong in their beliefs and firm in their ranks and files. Now there was only him and Ugo, alone in the woods, and mere yards from a veritable legion of undead. “Reports of enemy movement,” General D’Alessio had said. At any other time the pathetic insufficiency of that comment might have brought a wry smile to Biagino’s face, but here and now, faced with the truth, it was a sob he had to stifle.

Skeletal warriors lined both sides of the road, two ranks deep, their bones clean and white –thoroughly washed by the rains of earlier that evening. They clutched spears, and but for an eerie twitch here and an uncanny twist there, they could have been mere statues. The only sound was a strange creaking and scraping, emanating from bones grinding in sockets and ossified spear-shafts rubbing against the rusted rims of ancient shields.

Then there was another sound: the slow beat of drums, of the kind that might go before a convicted felon being led to the scaffold. Neither Ugo nor Biagino could bring themselves to move, such was the new layer of trepidation conjured by that sound. Biagino wondered if they were about to witness some poor souls being led to their doom, their blood to be drained by vampires or their bodies twisted and corrupted by necromantic magic. Yet he knew that was not likely. The undead were arrayed as if to welcome a prince, to show their strength and be inspected at one and the same time. This was more like a parade. Indeed, moments later, a pair of drummers marched by, then three torch bearers, followed by some nobly attired riders. The first of these was a lady riding side-saddle upon a mount barded in flowing, blood red silks. Her skin was deathly pale, and she wore a headdress and diadem of an archaic style. In her right hand she wielded a brazen staff topped by a silvered serpent’s head.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EntryIntoViadaza2_zps14dab7b5.jpg)

She was a vampire. Her appearance was proof enough, but the potent aura she exuded confirmed washed away all hopes that she might be anything else. Biagino had felt the same deathly chill before, on the field of battle at Pontremola, where no less than two such fiends had commanded the enemy host. At that moment, the vampiress turned her head slightly, in Biagino’s direction. His insides churned as dizzy fear washed through him. Then he saw that she was not looking at him, rather at something that had caught her eye amongst the skeletal warriors lining her route. She turned back.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EntryIntoViadaza4_zpse3f515a2.jpg)

Just as it seemed impossible to be more afraid, he was: he realised he knew her face. He had seen it before in his nightmares. More than that, he had met her in waking life. Since then her flesh had blanched, her mouth become distorted by the fangs curling from her upper lip, and her cheeks had sunken so that bony ridges now framed her huge, dark eyes. But her expression was one he had witnessed before, for she had used it upon him. She wore only a hint of it in life, but in his dreams she had given that same scornful, wicked and proud look full vent. It was the Duchess Maria!

His knees weakened, threatening to bring him down. He stumbled backwards a little way. Luckily, the rustling sound thus made was hidden by the sound of drums, hooves and clattering armour from the road. Even Ugo failed to notice.

The Duchess Maria had been corrupted. She had turned, then returned. And here she was being welcomed by an army of undead into Viadaza.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EntryIntoViadaza3_zps1ec33624.jpg)

Unexpectedly, he knew immediately it all made sense: the Duchess’s miraculous escape from Ebino; her lack of effort in convincing Lord Adolfo to support the crusade; Lord Adolfo’s uncharacteristic, dreamy fascination in her, and the way Viadaza fell to the undead almost immediately the Morrite clergy had left. All these things fitted together. The duchess never did escape, but had become a secret servant of evil, no doubt sent to sew the seeds of Viadaza’s destruction. She beguiled Lord Adolfo to fatally weaken the crusade, whilst simultaneously ensuring the priests of Morr still left the city. The fall of Viadaza was her doing.

His nightmares had been a sign all along. Morr himself had no doubt sent them to reveal the truth, yet Biagino in his ignorance – so many times - had woken, drenched in sweat, simply to dismiss the lingering images from his mind as quickly as possible. He thought them a weakness arising from his own self-doubts, when they had been no less than an inspired vision of the truth, presented starkly and boldly. Here was the duchess exactly as she had been in his dreams, the true self she hid behind her sorcerous disguise. 

The Vampire Duke Allessandro Sforta was no more. Now there was the Vampire Duchess Maria Colleoni.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EntryIntoViadaza5_zps72466659.jpg)

The curse upon Tilea had not been diminished at all. If anything, it was waxing stronger, threatening to conquer more cities and towns and to swallow ever more souls.

...
(Painting 40 new skeletons for this piece took time. Wonder if they'll ever see the tabletop?)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on May 30, 2014, 09:56:50 PM
Another great post by the master! That's the old DoW Belladonna Whatevertheycallher, right?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: damo_b on May 31, 2014, 02:15:12 PM
The figure is the old mounted Liamhian vampire. good work as every padre.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 31, 2014, 09:49:26 PM
Thanks Damian. And yeah, an old Lahmian figure is right I think. Can't for the life of me recall how I got her. I know I painted her for an old campaign for the next door neighbour's wife's character. Yeah, we had nearly the whole street involved.

Shame you can't be there for the battle tomorrow. I have a feeling that Khurnag's Waagh might have done better under your command than mine. But still, I'm gonna go green on Uryens. 3300 points of green. If only his army hadn't been busy digging defences, then it would be easy.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 21, 2014, 04:32:02 PM
Some Trouble at Tursi
Approx. 3200 pts of Tilean mercenaries versus 3300 pts of greenskins

The mercenary army of the Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie’s Tilean enterprise had been busy. Their establishment at Alcente had been granted in return for providing much needed defence against the Badlands’ orc warlord Khurnag. Now they had to make good that promise, for Khurnag had turned his attentions towards the south-west and was approaching the watchtower at Tursi with a large Waagh!, perhaps his entire strength. So it was that the VMC soldiers had incorporated the watchtower into the defensive perimeter of a fortified camp. The construction was not fully complete, but it was substantial, as they had piled earth up to create parapeted works and palisaded bastions.

Here you can see the eastern portion of those defences, where the tower itself stood.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG1_zps0a2240fa.jpg)

The tumbledown ruins of an ancient shrine to forgotten gods formed one side of the eastern gate, while an earthen bastion bristling with sharpened poles sat upon the other. The tower itself was typical of the southern region of Tilea, constructed of local stone (unlike the ancient ruin), plastered and painted, with tiles of red clay atop its buttresses and crenellations.

The watchtower’s recently installed garrison, a company of mounted handgunners who had been assigned the duty of regular patrols throughout the area south of Sussurio and north of Alcente, now formed part of the army awaiting the Waagh. Initially they made as if to attempt to outflank the foe, ensuring they were spotted as they feigned doing so, but then they doubled back and settled themselves behind the wooden defences to the south of the tower.

(Game Note: Ant used his general’s mercenary skill of ‘Tactician’ to redeploy this unit and hi heavy horse, first putting them outside the fortified camp and thus luring me into placing several important units on that flank in the hopes of engaging them. And then, to my surprise, they were gone. It seems men are more subtle than greenskins. Who would have thought it?)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG2_zps90c06464.jpg)

Two companies of locally raised brigands defended the same stretch of defences, one being behind the double fence (yet to be filled in with earth and stones), the other occupying the tower itself.

The VMC’s main strength was deployed along the defences on the other side of the tower. A twenty strong firelock company, until recently employed separately to the rest of the army, manned the first stretch of earthwork. They were clothed in grey and armed with long barrelled but light pieces of a novel new northern design inspired by dwarfen lock mechanisms, which did not require slow-match for ignition. Well drilled and already experienced in battle, they now flashed their pans, adjusted flints and frizzens, then stuffed lead balls into their cheeks ready to spit into the muzzles after loading each charge of powder.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG3_zps722ef8bd.jpg)

A brass-barrelled saker was emplaced next, then the regiment of Estalian rodoleros (sword and buckler men). The orange and blue VMC colours fluttered above them, carried by the young ensign Anders van Rooven, a man of as worthy a descent as one could have in the city of Marienburg (his family being not only of noble blood but also very successful in their mercantile interests). By his side stood a Myrmidian priestess, the Tilean noblewoman Luccia la Fanciulla, whose presence much inspired the rank and file soldiers about her. They had found it very easy to embrace the god of war when her mortal agent took such an attractive form. Another saker broke up the line of foot, and then next stood Captain van Luyden’s company of shot, in which each man was also busying himself with preparing his handgun. The archmage Johannes Deeter, whiskered wholly in white while clothed entirely in black, stood with them. Unusually, he was not attended by his apprentice Serafina - she was inside the watchtower, sent to support that wing with whatever magics she could muster.

Colonel van Hal’s Tercio, the ‘Meagre Company’, guarded the gate, consisting of a main phalanx of pike with two sleeves of shot. Unusually one of the little companies of shot stood in front of the pike, while the other stood at its side, flanked itself by a ribaudequin attended by the VMC’s Master of Works and artillery commander, Captain Singel.

Out on the very far left flank was the army’s Lord General, Jan Valckenburgh, clad in black lacquered cuirassier armour, accompanied by Captain Wallenstein and his company of heavy horsemen. While their bred-for-war mounts snorted and champed at their bits, the riders spanned their wheel-lock pistols, knowing that they would without doubt be using them very shortly and so need not worry about weakening the springs. Their heavy maces, perfect instruments for bashing in thick, orcen skulls, hung from their saddles besides the pistol holsters.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG6_zpsd76d1814.jpg)

Warboss Khurnag, or ‘Mighty Khurnag’ as his own warriors called him, had chosen to ride his wyvern to battle the better to be seen by his boys, and to terrify the foe. Ever since he had refused to fly the beast over the walls at Monte Castello (in the knowledge of what the batteries of guns would do to the beast) there had been tittle tattle amongst his lesser servants, which had only the previous night been foolishly voiced within his earshot. The speaker was now dead – in fact he died only the merest moment after he realised, with horror, his mistake – but Khurnag’s pride had been dented. So now he sat atop his green-scaled, monstrous mount at the rear of his force, squinting against the afternoon sun to see just what in the way of guns this new foe possessed. It seemed that the goblin big boss Gurmliss had not been exaggerating when he said that the army of Alcente was almost exclusively armed with black powder weapons. Not that knowing this would have changed Khurnag’s mind regarding his choice of mount, for if he was to regain the respect of his army and ensure they continued to call him ‘mighty’ then the wyvern was the only choice. Known only to him, and perhaps his mount, Khurnag did not like what he saw, and somewhere deep inside his raging mind there was a gnawing doubt telling him that he had made a mistake; a big mistake.

(Game note: A discussion between me and Ant during set up certainly made me wonder whether my “Got the model, will use it” attitude was going going to prove somewhat stupid!)

On the greenskin’s left flank, amassed there in the mistaken belief that the foe had deployed several bodies of horsemen outside the walls, were not only Khurnag, but two orc boar chariots, two bolt throwers, Khurnag’s three maneaters and almost eighty missile troops – arrer boyz and gobbos. Just the sort of troops to weaken then smash the enemy riders. If only the riders were still there.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG4_zps65fc4f08.jpg)

Now they faced only walls and a tower, manned by enemy handgunners and bowmen. Not the ideal opposition for chariots and riders. Luckily, the greenskin right, where the important hand to hand fighting would surely take place, was still surely strong enough to deliver a fatal blow. Nigh upon eighty orcs marched in two large bodies, with stone throwers ready to hurl huge rocks behind them. Boar riders and wolf riders came up on the far right, with wolf chariots and a pump wagon to add to the confusion they could create.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG5_zpse8fd2d3f.jpg)

Perfectly satisfactory, all in all, thought Khurnag. Or, more accurately, “It’ll do.” Once he had cleared this lot away from their piles of dirt and shiny tower, he could sate himself and his warriors with looting Alcente and all the settlements around. He gave no thought to what he would do after that, for he simply had not considered that far ahead, and right now his mind was filled with a lusty eagerness for battle. Hefting his heavy, serrated choppa, he prepared to give the sign to advance.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG7_zpsbbb8eb3a.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 26, 2014, 07:54:05 PM
Some Trouble at Tursi: The Fight

As the orc warboss raised his choppa to give his signal, the men of the VMC were already touching slow match to powder to fire their two sakers directly at him. One cannon’s barrel shivered immediately, burning the crewmen to send them reeling from their bastion. But the other gun sent a six pound roundshot to tear a chunk of scales from the wyvern’s neck then plough right into Khurnag’s belly. Lifted out of his saddle, he was dead before he even hit the ground.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG8_zps05f7075a.jpg)

The mighty Khurnag was dead. No sword had been bloodied, no arrow loosed, no leadshot fired - just one iron ball - yet the Waagh’s commander was dead. His mount lurched ungainly, badly wounded by the more than glancing blow to its serpentine neck. Those greenskins who failed to witness his demise were nudged and nipped by their comrades so that within a moment or two nearly every Waagh warrior was aware that Khurnag had fallen, if not that he was dead. Yet none seemed to think this was reason enough to feel dismayed; certainly not to retreat. It was, however, distracting enough to subdue their otherwise perpetual squabbling, and so it was that the entire army began its advance as one just exactly as Khurnag had intended they should (Game note: i.e. no animosity fails.)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG9_zps95f79a74.jpg)

A weak wave of magical summonations sputtered from the line of green, while a pair of huge stones landed with a thump nowhere near the men of the VMC and only one handgunner succumbed to the orcs’ first volley of arrows. The little artillery piece the Waagh’s goblins had looted from Scabscar’s camp by the sea did kill three rodoleros, but this was the only real harm of any kind caused. Not that the greenskins were really trying yet – they were more concerned with closing the distance between themselves and the enemy. Most keen of all were Thagger the Spoiler’s boar riders, their pace matched only by the Waagh’s lone surviving pump wagon.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG10_zps6d8c1d65.jpg)

On the greenskin’s left, the boar chariots, uncertain as to what or who they should charge, nevertheless rolled around either side of the maneaters, while the dazed but angry wyvern hopped over to land between them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG11_zps92125b51.jpg)

Behind the defences no-one moved from their position. They were busy enough re-loading, and determined to launch as much lead and iron at the enemy as possible, then to meet whatever survived with a palisade to protect them. The wizards and priests of the VMC conjured a Net of Amontek upon Thagger’s boar riders, as well as killing one of the same with a Banishment spell. Pha’s Protection embraced several many of the defender’s units, while Shem’s Burning Gaze felled one unlucky goblin. Of course this was a mere taster, for now a hailstorm of arrow, bullet and ball burst outwards from the walls. Goblins and orcs across the line fell, including half of the boar riders. Not everything went as the VMC intended, for their ribaudequin blew itself up and their saker shot simply buried itself into the earth. But the wizard’s ethereal dissipater shook the pump wagon to pieces, and the sight of this sent one of the wolf chariots fleeing from the field.

Knowing his lads must surely now be wondering if they would even reach the foe alive, Boss Thagger gave vent to a furiously defiant cry, urging his riders to “Go faster, ya Slugabeds. Go faster now!”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG12_zps3564b3df.jpg)

What he had not reckoned with was the cruel power of the Net of Amontek. One of his boar riders was killed by its etheric barbs and none of the rest could free themselves from its grip. And they were not the only regiment that ground to halt. Someone in the massive regiment of orc boyz had already cracked a joke about Khurnag’s death (too soon, perhaps?), and the ensuing mix of laughter and anger held them back as the rest of the army surged onwards around them (Game note: failed animosity).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG13_zps1f27b8e9.jpg)

Once more the greenskin magic failed to get to grips with the foe, while the magical protection of a Banner of Respite meant that the stone throwers caused no harm either. Again only the goblin cannon caused any real harm, felling two of the heavily armoured cuirassiers with the VMC lord general. Perhaps to prove that they were not dismayed by such treatment, General Valckenburgh ordered his gentlemen to advance – being the only VMC unit to move.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG14_zpsf46826d6.jpg)

They then fired a pistol volley at the wolf chariot, their efforts boosted by the two detachments of handgunners to their right. The chariot did not have a chance. Witnessing its destruction, the goblin big boss Gurmliss was reminded of the very similar fate of the entire Little Waagh when it faced the VMC. His resolve, at least what remained of it after Khurnag’s demise, crumbled, and as he tugged at the fur of his wolf mount to halt the beast, the rest of his riders took this as a sign to shift for themselves, and so turned and fled away.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG15_zpsb7e075c1.jpg)

Meanwhile the Net of Amontek now ensnared the goblin archers and Shem’s Burning Gaze delivered a coup de grace on the wyvern. Perhaps distracted by their magical entrapment, the goblins did not panic at the sight of the wyvern’s death, but the orcen archers’ courage failed them and they fled away in disarray. A good number of orcs and goblins fell amongst the ranks of several different units, brought down by leadshot and arrows, but the VMC’s only surviving saker was not to join in their fun, for it too blew itself up. (General Valckenburgh would later order an investigation into the destruction of his three artillery pieces, suspecting sabotage at worst, and at best, negligence.)

At last some of the greenskins were within potential striking distance of the foe – although nowhere near as many as they might have had if it were not for their tendency either to squabble or run away at the slightest provocation. The smaller regiment of orcs, led by big boss Malkey the Fist, who carried the army standard, attempted to reach Captain van Luyden’s company of shot, but, whilst losing five of their number to a volley, they failed to do so.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG16_zpsac4d3a06.jpg)

Only the goblin archers, breaking free of the magical net binding them, and losing four of their number in the charge, successfully reached the foe – hurtling themselves at the earthen bank upon which the grey coated firelock company stood.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG18_zps8cfe0958.jpg)

Thagger’s attempt to support this somewhat weak assault had already failed, for when his boar riders lost two of their number to the Meagre Company’s forlorn hope of hangunners, they turned and ran, pelting past the wolf-riders doing just the same to their left. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG17_zps8078715f.jpg)

Of course the goblin archers, although they did bring down several of the enemy, suffered at the hands of the VMC’s mercenaries, their attack much weakened by the fact that the foe was protected by substantial defences (Game note: No charge bonus and no rank bonus – home rules due to fact that these earthworks were something considerably more than a mere fence, being built with battle in mind.) No-one, not even themselves, was surprised when they fled.

So far the greenskins had done nothing but bicker, stumble, retreat or bounce. Yet with numbers still on their side …
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG21_zps81840df0.jpg)

… most still had not realised that their cause was surely doomed.

(End of Turn 3)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 28, 2014, 02:49:24 PM
Turns 4-6

As General Valckenburgh’s cuirassiers turned a little, with equal calmness the garrison handgunners simply trotted back a few yards from the defences. Two volleys of arrows laid low one of the Maneaters, while salvoes from the several companies of shot wounded another ogre, and brought down a smattering of orcs and goblins elsewhere in the Waagh’s now ragged lines.

With a bellowed roar of frustration Thagger halted his last surviving riders.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG19_zpsa9f19731.jpg)

Next to him the wolfriders began bickering over what they ought to do next, with Gurmliss’ rather less loud voice lost amongst their chorus of shouts and insults. On the left of the greenskin line the last two maneaters charged the tower and set about hacking at the defenders. Both sides gave as good as they got and the very bloody assault resulted in the demise of the maneaters as well as five defenders. Nearby the boar chariots hurtled at the palisade, smashing through it, killing all ten of the archers defending it, then loudly rattling into the yard within. On the right, big boss Malkey the Fist led his boys into Captain van Luyden’s company of shot, losing four of their number to a handgun blast just as they began to climb the earthen bank. Big boss Malkey badly bloodied archmage Deeter, and the old man could do little but cower back and hope the men around him could defend him against further harm. With four orcs falling and one handgunner, the fight broiled on, with neither side yet ready to break.  (Game note: -1 to hit as fighting over defences, no rank bonus) At their side the big mob of orcs moved up close to the foe, urged on by Big Mosher.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG20_zps6cb5e2eb.jpg)

Once again the greenskins’ magic proved incapable of harming the men of the VMC, as their wizards channeled away its effects with dispellings and wardings. A huge stone crashed amongst the rodoleros, instantly killing five , yet they proved both brave and loyal, and simply reformed their ranks and files. 

Now the rodoleros, champing at the bit for a fight and no longer willing to stand passively whilst dying to enemy fire, leapt over the barricades, the army standard of the VMC streaming above their heads, and charged into the flank of Malkey the Fist’s orcs fighting at the front of the bastion.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG22_zps8f4f7adb.jpg)

Unwilling to risk receiving a charge from the boar chariots, the tower garrison’s mounted handgunners did what such troops do best and galloped around the foe’s flank. The sound of gunfire came from the other side of the tower as the firelock guard felled another eight of the goblin archers they had just pushed from the wall. Out on on the VMC’s left the two detachments of foot handgunners combined their firepower with the cuirassier’s pistols to cut down ten of Big Mosher’s orcs. (Game note: 10 was not quite a quarter of their strength, they needed 11!) Big Mosher grinned, for at last – at long last – he was about to draw the enemy’s blood. He raised his choppa and gulped in the breath necessary to bellow the order to charge. But it was not to be. For in that instant, Malkey’s orcs, battered to a pulp by the foe attacking them on two sides, unable to surmount the defences, finally broke and fled. And as they did so, Big Mosher’s orcs joined them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG23_zpsddf11708.jpg)

It was the beginning of the end for the greenskins, although one might argue that had happened upon the very opening shot of the battle when Khurnag fell. As the goblin archers set to squabbling among themselves over who got what from their fallen comrades, Mosher’s boys rallied.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG24_zps83eda381.jpg)

But the greenskins’ will to fight had been bruised and battered. The survivors of the smaller mob continued their flight, while the rest just stood and watched as the now isolated regiment of rodoleros …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG25_zps62c1330e.jpg)

… turned and climbed back over behind the defences. Then one by one, the warriors of Khurnag’s Waagh began to fall back, most in silence. Their ears rang from the umpteen thunderous black powder volleys that had been launched in their direction, their skin being peppered by splinters of bone and teeth torn by leaden bullets from the bodies of those once standing with them.

The two chariots trundled aimlessly through the enemy camp …
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG26_zpsb2e44386.jpg)

… until one was run down and destroyed by the enemy horsemen. The other careened around and smashed its way back out of the enemy’s camp, taking the firelock company with them!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/VMCvsKHURNAG27_zps579d8506.jpg)

As the fleeing handgunners skittered about to avoid the chariot’s scythes and its draught animals’ tusks and hooves, the rest of the soldiers of the VMC simply watched as the greenskins withdrew – after having reloaded once more just in case some madness caused the warriors of the Waagh to try one more assault. Gurmliss wandered if they were a Waagh at all anymore, if Khurnag was no longer leading them. Big Mosher, meanwhile, wondered whether he could fashion them into his own Waagh, but then immediately began to ponder whether he wanted such a broken force.

The VMC’s drums and horns sounded, the handgunners let loose a salute to victory, to be joined by cheering from all across the walls. The Meagre Company’s pikemen couldn’t believe that the battle had been won without them having to engage anyone, but cheered all the harder for it. And General Valckenburgh rode through his men to give and accept salutes, to offer and receive praise, and generally to revel in the defeat of such a mighty foe.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 08, 2014, 08:40:06 PM
Battle of the Princes
First Prologue: Morr Commands


The Archlector Calictus II of the Holy Church of Morr has commanded that the following be proclaimed by his priests throughout Tilea (and it has been):

I hereby address all Tileans, whether noble or common, rich or poor, young or old. You can tarry no more, nor is there even time to pray, for a doom is upon each and every one of you, and all that you hold dear, indeed all else, will be destroyed if you do not act. Not soon, nor later, nor ‘by and by’, but now, this very day.
 
In summer I spoke to you concerning the dire threat in the north, and demanded that all faithful servants of Morr and every lawful god must immediately take up arms to join in the stand against the undead. I instructed all city states and rulers to put aside any differences so that they march forth together to end the terror before it devours us all. Yet my words were not heeded, and the brave people of Viadaza stood alone against the foe. Such was their fearless faith that they were victorious in battle, and yet still their city fell - for the foe is numerous, many and more, and will rise to fight again and again unless beaten utterly, their bones broken and burned. And what does Tilea do? Even now wars are being fought over petty matters of trade and pride, concerning who governs this and who owns that, while still others languish in either indolence or ignorance believing they cannot be touched by the evil that has swallowed the north.

If this evil is not defeated, then there will be no rest eternal for anyone of you. Instead of peaceful repose in Morr’s garden, you, your family, your friends, all those you love, all those you know, will become corrupted, tortured and enslaved to the will of a vampire. This is no idle speculation, nor mere presumption, for this is exactly the fate of almost all those who only last year lived in the realms of Miragliano, Ebino and Viadaza. And still the evil grows, engulfing more and more of Tilea.
 
Now, I do not ask that you muster your own forces, look to your own defences and cease squabbling with your neighbours. Now, I order you - not merely to do those things, but to obey Morr’s will, the will of his church, the will of the Three churches, and do much more:
 
(Although this proclamation is being read in every Morrite church and temple, by clergy of every rank, in Remas the archlector himself read it out, standing on the wide steps before the hill top church of Saint Taroscio the Horribly Martyred. Clergymen attended him, with one priest holding the written proclamation for the archlector to read. Behind him stood several of his personal guardsmen, one of whom held the archlector's standard, bearing an ornate emblem depicting the keys into Morr's Garden and the Crown of the Three:)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RemanCrusade1_zps26b49a77.jpg)

By the seal ‘MMM, in full agreement with High Priest Flavio Tognazzi of the Holy Church of Mercopio and Arch Priest Luccino de Sicca of the Holy Church of Myrmidia, I hereby declare a Crusade against the wickedness in the north. Each and every able bodied, free Tilean is to muster immediately in arms to be guided by our priests, assembling armies sufficient to save our realm. Every ruling prince or council must do all they can to support this cause, mustering all militia and soldiers available to them in order to support the crusade (keeping only those forces vital to the safety of their own realm) and providing all necessary supplies to maintain those forces in the field. Furthermore, every prince and council is ordered for the greater good of the entire realm as well as in dutiful obedience to the will of the gods, to respect their neighbours, cease all petty squabbles and actions, and allow free passage of all crusading forces to either Remas or the north.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RemanCrusade2_zpsf369a83f.jpg)

Even now … (Here, in the speech he himself delivered, the archlector added ‘you’) … the men of the city state of Remas are girding arms. The city’s bells ring before dawn each day so that men may wake and gather to practise their postures. Let no other city or town, nobleman or militiaman shirk this duty.
 
Assemble. March. Fight.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 11, 2014, 07:11:06 PM
Battle of the Princes
Second Prologue: Light Relief


(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantineReliefForce1_zps8a12376c.jpg)

Prince Girenzo of Trantio had never intended to ride to battle with so few men. He had hired the best mercenary company in Tilea to fight for him, and if it proved necessary that he also himself fight, he expected to command a mighty army made of both his own soldiers and all those he paid for. Not now, however, for despite their promises that a raid against Pavona would be easy, the mercenaries of the Compagnia del Sole were close to failing him. After a hesitant start, they had eventually begun the work of looting and burning with vigour. Their initial delay, however, meant lingering just a little too long in the enemy’s territory and they had been caught. Now they had been very badly mauled in battle and were being pursued back towards Trantio, slowed down so much by their precious haul of plunder that they were very unlikely to reach it. As a consequence, Prince Girenzo’s hand was forced: either ride to their aid or lose the mercenaries and their plunder. Now it had come to open war, he needed both, which meant he had to choose the first option, no matter how risky it was.

Still, there was every reason to be optimistic. The relief column he now commanded consisted of men he could trust. He himself had overseen their thrice-weekly drilling in the fields outside his city walls, recognising both their competence in arms and their dedication to their service. The only thing he did lack was numbers - paying the mercenaries had drained his coffers. One unsubtle solution to the meagreness of his forces, an idea suggested by the commander of his gentlemen, Sir Gino Saltaramenda, was to sound much larger. Prince Girenzo had mused that it was more the sort of tactic an orc would use than the kind of strategic cunning an Myrmidian Tilean warrior might bring to bear. Sir Gino had replied that the enemy were only men, and that nervous ears could befuddle scouts and unsettle the enemy. In the end the prince had agreed. It would cost nothing. If it made no real difference, then there was no real loss.

So it was that at the head of the army three foot-soldiers marched with brass horns blaring out shrill notes as harmoniously as they could. It was not the most awe-inspiring of sounds, but when mixed with the tooting call of more horns further behind, and the rolling, petty thunder of myriad drums, it gave exactly the impression Sir Gino had suggested it would. The Prince had to admit that were he squatting upon the other side of the hill, afraid to come too close for fear of being spotted, he might indeed surmise that a vast horde of many regiments was marching along the road.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantineReliefForce2_zpsc8572a01.jpg)
 
Behind the trill-trio vanguard rode Trantio’s gentlemen at arms, led by the prince himself and his captain Sir Gino. The Medizi family coat of arms was emblazoned upon the white flag born by the company: a golden crown, chain and shield sporting blood red spots and fleurs-de-lys. The yellow and purple feather piled thick and high upon the standard bearer’s helm added suitably to the impression of royal authority.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantineReliefForce3_zpscb59f523.jpg)

Both prince and captain were silent. They had attempted once to talk over the blare and racket surrounding them, then given it up as a bad job. The prince held his heavy helm in the crook of his arm as he pondered what lay ahead of him. Beneath his breastplate, pressing with heavy yet welcome weight against his chest, was the magical talisman his father had sworn by. “I’d call it potent. That’s the word for it. Not once, nor twice, nor even three times,” the old prince would say to his son, then after a delay for silliness’ sake alone, “not even four times, nor five, but six - I tell you - six times this prettily carved bauble has saved my skin. Blades brought down in such a way that ought without question to have pierced me deep and deadly, born by warriors both strong and skilled, did little more than slip away as if they were broomsticks clutched in the trembling hands of weak and feeble old crones. Not every blow, mind you, as my scarred flesh and jarred bones do protest, but enough that I have lived to a ripe old age even after taking six risks too many.”

The old prince had been little like his son, for although he ruled his subjects as a tyrant, with his own family he was prone to long winded pronouncements over the most petty of matters whilst countering serious questions with jests and tomfoolery. It was a species of bravery, Girenzo had no doubt, but it was not for him. Nevertheless, in the case of the talisman his father was not merely jesting, for Prince Girenzo had examined witnesses and learned that if anything his father was playing down its power. The prince now wondered whether today was his own, first ‘risk too many’, a thought that soon turned into worrying whether the magical power bound up in such a thing might wane over time, until settling upon doubts that it could possibly work against bullet or ironshot. His father had only spoken of blades.

Of course he showed not the slightest hint of his concerns. Those who looked upon him would have presumed him to be lost in idle, almost careless thought, and certainly not troubled by the consequences of the imminent fight.

Behind the prince and his gentlemen marched the foot soldiers, first being a large regiment of the city’s militia, every man bearing the pike he had practised with time and time again. At their head they carried two standards: the army’s battle standard bearing the Medizi coat of arms bordered in yellow, and their own standard bearing the emblem of Trantio – a red fleur-de-lys prettified up with curlicues and flourishes. Of course, not one but two drummers beat the march at their fore.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantineReliefForce4_zps58d84e1a.jpg)

At the rear marched a company of crossbowmen, part of the Compagnia del Sole who remained in Trantio while the rest wait upon the raid. They too had a drummer, but just as loud were their conjoined voices, sending the words of their soldiers’ bawdy songs echoing round the hills. Between them and the pike trundled the Compagnia’s horse artillery, which one might suppose ought to have gone with the raiders, but Prince Girenzo wanted it to hand to be dispatched quickly to wherever it was needed. The gunner was a dwarf, mounted on a pony, while his two mates rode the lead pair of draught horses.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantineReliefForce5_zps18f31a7a.jpg)
…………………………………………………………………………………………
Army List (Campaign list – modified from Treachery & Greed campaign list)

Prince Girenzo (Tilean Noble) 177 pts; Warhorse, barding, full plate. Talisman of Preservation, Biting Blade, Enchanted Shield
Special rules: Hold the Line.

Condotta Captain 84 pts; Mercenary skill - Hopelessly stubborn: Character, & any unit he joins, is stubborn.

Condotta Captain 79 pts; Battle Standard

8 Knights 209 pts; Full Plate, Warhorse, Shields, barding, lances // Full command (Champion = Sir Gino) 

30 Militia Pikemen 265 pts; Light armor, pikes. Full Command

16 Condotta Marksmen 115 pts; Light armor, crossbows. Full Command

Horse Artillery 85 pts; 1 machine, 3 crewmen. As cannon, except range 24“, S7 & causing d3 wounds. Grapeshot S4, armour piercing. Cannon & crew can move 8”, can march, & can even move & fire (tho’ not march & fire). May flee charges, even tho’ war machines may not usually do so. May not stand & shoot.

Total Cost = 1014 pts
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 23, 2014, 07:47:12 PM
Battle of the Princes

The very western spur of the Trantine Hills, Winter IC2401-2


For most seasons the bridge over the Little Carrena was only used by wagons and coaches – those on foot or horseback found it just as easy to cross the dry river bed of stones. During the months of late autumn and winter, however, it would run with water, sometimes so much that a man would wade waist deep to cross it. So it was that the fleeing remnants of the Compagnia del Sole had been forced to cross the bridge, an action which slowed their progress and made many amongst them fearful of being caught by their pursuer, Duke Guidobaldo.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces1_zps90e11687.jpg)

Their fear, however, proved unfounded, for not only did they cross in safety, but they then met with Prince Girenzo of Trantio and his relief force. After brief consultation, it was decided to array as one army upon the northern side of the river and there make a stand against the foe. The prince did not want them to approach any closer to his precious Trantio, and the mercenaries were tired of running (and lugging their loot). Besides, as Prince Girenzo and General Fortebraccio agreed, the decision was tactically sound: they both knew that attempting to retreat when an enemy was close gave your men the idea that they were fleeing. Once they got that into their heads, then all order and cohesion was almost certainly lost, and what they believed would indeed become the case.

General Fortebraccio still had some tricks up his sleeve, and by clever use of misdirection, concealment and a few broken horses, gave the Pavonans the impression that his Compagnia del Sole soldiers had deployed with their baggage strung out on the far left of their line, and that his heavy horse regiment was clustered in the centre by Prince Girenzo’s gentlemen.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces2_zpsc5b956a2.jpg)

The trick worked. (Game Note: Army list mercenary skill - ‘Tactician’, meaning two units can redeploy after all deployment.) This was the deployment reported to Duke Guidobaldo, and thus the one which he arrayed his own army to face. In truth,  however, the Compagnia’s horse were out on the far right flank, and the baggage (of course) were tucked safely behind the centre of the Trantian army’s line.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces4_zpsaacdf3b9.jpg)

Duke Guidobaldo had not tarried too long at Astiano. Once the enemy was broken and fled the field, he halted only long enough to reform his fighting companies, recover his lightly wounded and see to it that the more seriously injured would be tended to. If he had been willing to wait a few days longer, he knew he would receive reinforcements from both Astiano and Pavona, but he was more keen to catch the remnant of the Compagnia del Sole before they could escape his clutches, to retrieve the plunder looted from his newly built settlement upon the Via Aurelia at Casoli. Some amongst his soldiers believed he also wanted the world to know that he was not afraid of a fight, not the sort of man to allow hesitation or caution to cause him to tarry.

His army arrayed itself amongst the loops of the stream, as if they cared not a jot about the slippery rocks or getting their feet wet in the cold of winter. His pistoliers acted as outriders on his right flank, and came clattering across the little bridge as the army completed manoeuvring into line of battle. The duke and his son rode with their last few knights, carefully crossing the stream behind the artillery so that the Duke could see his precious pieces well placed. He wanted them to do well, for if they did not it would make his choice to allow them to slow the whole army down in their pursuit look foolish. A regiment of swords was next in line, flanked by a company of handgunners. Two bodies of halberdiers, separated by a tiny group of archers, came next, while a large regiment of handgunners were placed on the far left. His own baggage was tucked behind the hill upon which his largest regiment of halberdiers was standing.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces3_zps913e8275.jpg)

Of course, the pistoliers wasted no time on the bridge, and came wheeling boldly from its northern end to begin riding fast towards the foe. Some sported blue and white cloaks or feathers, so that none could mistake them for anything other than Pavonans.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces5_zps392d30bd.jpg)

(Game Note: Deployment and vanguard moves completed. The actual fighting to follow asap.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: timothymayer on July 25, 2014, 02:00:01 AM
The detail alone is impressive.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 29, 2014, 08:16:43 PM
Battle of the Princes Continued


Duke Guidobaldo’s pistoliers galloped onwards towards the forlorn hope of mercenary crossbowmen isolated upon the hill on the far of the Trantian line.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces6_zps1932d701.jpg)

This bold move was not matched by the rest of the Pavonan army, as nearly every other unit simply stood, waiting. A small detachment of archers did creep up behind the central hill, while the company of handgunners on the far left found a way to be even more cautious – by falling back a few yards. The Pavonan wizard’s magical conjurings harmed no-one, merely forcing Luchino Janecci, the Compagnia del Sole’s battle wizard, to read his dispel scroll. At this range not much in the way of artillery could be played upon the foe, and apart from the three crossbowmen who fell to the pistoliers’ close range volley, only two pikemen and one of Prince Girenzo’s knights were killed by a cannonball. 

The Trantine army responded with a somewhat more aggressive action, advancing their four main fighting bodies without delay. Yet they too displayed elements of caution, due mainly to two reasons: none were keen to allow the enemy to bring their full firepower to bear (especially their vicious looking volley-gun) and, more importantly, the Pavonans were arrayed in such a way that they might bring a considerable portion of their fighting strength to bear upon the rather exposed left flank of the Trantian line, most likely supported by their pistoliers. So it was that while the rightmost regiment of horse moved as fast as possible to close the gap between themselves and the hesitant regiment of handgunners, the second body of knights moved in such a way as to be concealed by the central hill, and the halberdiers on the left – led by the mercenary General Fortebraccio – slowed and wheeled away from the line to angle themselves more towards the enemy threatening from the left.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces7_zpsd2b576d2.jpg)

Magic and shooting brought about nothing of any real consequence, something Prince Girenzo had thought might well prove to be the case. As he rode upon the left of the front rank of his gentlemen-at-arms he accepted that to defeat the foe he would have to close with them and fight hand to hand. Glancing to his left he wondered if his well-drilled but little experienced militia pikemen would prove capable of such a task.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces8_zps129fd70b.jpg)

He already had his doubts about the Compagnia del Sole – after all he was only here because they had chosen to flee instead of fight. Yet his own meagre force could not fight this battle alone – he needed the mercenaries to fight this time. The halberdiers’ movement away from his neat line of battle was worrying. He would just have to lead by example, and hope that they were suitably reassured. If not that, then perhaps they would fight simply to ensure that their employer remained alive and victorious, and so able to pay them what they were owed.

Some way behind him the crew of his galloper gun were attempting to line up their piece’s muzzle on the pistoliers, knowing a lucky shot now could prove crucial to the safety of the army’s left flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces9_zps7f9667aa.jpg)

Their shot, however, fell short. (Game Note: My extensive pencil notes say nothing about the actual shot. Which means it is in fact possible that I forgot to take it. My excuse is that battles are distracting, and I am easily distracted.) The pistoliers took the cannon’s failure as a sign to do something immediately or suffer the consequences of a better placed second shot. So, while the crew of the cannon hurriedly re-loaded, they ignored the three surviving crossbowmen on the hill and hurtled directly towards their potential ruin.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces10_zpse50f31ae.jpg)

The Pavonan Duke Guidobaldo and his son Lord Polcario had got themselves and their few remaining knights stuck behind their artillery pieces. Considering this, and that there was no immediate target for the volley-gun, the multi-barrelled gun’s crew were ordered to drag it out of the way immediately. As soon as there was space enough, the heavily armoured regiment thundered forwards to the rear of the handgunner detachment. The foot also began an advance, with the three main regiments moving obliquely.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces11_zps90f3e9bc.jpg)

As they did so, and even though the winds of magic were currently weak, one of the Pavonan battle wizards summoned a flame storm to rain death upon the Trantian pikemen, killing a dozen and leaving the rest reeling, sickened by the foul stench of cooked flesh arising from the charred corpses. With their prince so close, the survivors found the courage to march on, despite their horrible loss. The Pavonan wizard was exultant, but his expression of joy was misjudged as some uncontrolled wisps of magical energy had remained coiled around him – these now burst to send a ripple of destruction through the swordsmen he was marching with. Eight men fell dead. The wizard did not let it show, but he was secretly thankful that the soldiers did not seem to realise that the harm had been his doing and not some curse conjured by the foe.

The Pavonan cannon sent a ball directly at Prince Girenzo, who very fortuitously moved out of its path in the last moment. The ball killed the man next to him and spattered blood and splinters of bone on the prince’s bright armour. His face blanched, though none saw as it was hidden beneath his helm. The handgunners threatened by the Compagnia del Sole’s heavily armoured horsemen brought down two with a volley, then loaded quickly to fire one more volley as they were charged. Agitated and rushed as they were, this second volley was launched a little too high, and the Compagnia’s yellow and white striped lances hit them hard.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces12_zps1c5f54dc.jpg)

The large company of mercenary crossbowmen upon the hill to the right of their baggage now turned to face the pistoliers, as did General Fortebraccio’s halberdiers. Prince Girenzo narrowed his eyes as he saw them move even further from him. Trust them to think only of protecting the loot in the baggage! He intended to hit the foe as one line, with the crossbowmen supporting the attack. He certainly cared not if the enemy played a while with the baggage. Now his army had broken into two, and all because of one single enemy unit.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces13_zpsbd876f55.jpg)

The Compagnia del Sole’s heavy horsemen smashed through the handgunners, then ran down those who fled. What they did not know was that the enemy’s cannon crew had spotted them, and were already lugging their piece around to aim it. Had they known they might have foregone the satisfaction of hacking down an already broken foe and instead reformed in such a way as to minimise the harm the cannon could do to them. (Game Note: Almost as soon as I declared my pursuit I realised the mistake. Such is the heat of battle!)

Prince Girenzo and his knights moved forwards, while the men of the shattered pike regiment matching his move were glad of the concealment the hill in front of them provided. Both flew his brightly hued personal banner, both garbed in brightly fierce colours. One might think by their appearance that they were the sort of warriors unconcerned about being spotted by the enemy’s guns. One would be wrong to do so, however, for both had spotted the serried muzzles of the organ gun earlier, and heard the blast of the cannon twice already. They were only too aware of what might await them when they ascended the hill betwixt them and the foe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces14_zps57112f0f.jpg)

(Game Note: For the purposes of this battle, set in a hilly region of Tilea, we had a scenario rule that TLoS did not count for the hills – they were to be considered real hills rather than slight mounds. Certainly sufficient to hide men, whether on foot or mounted.)

The mercenary wizard Luchino unleashed a magical blast of chain lightning on the pistoliers, killing four. As they turned and fled, the cannon killed another and cheers went up from the crossbowmen and halberdiers watching. General Fortebraccio allowed himself to smile, but then suddenly wondered whether his order to turn his men to face the now-beaten foe was an over-reaction. He stepped from the ranks to look towards his employer, the Prince, and was forced to accept that he had indeed broken what had been a fairly solid line. Still, he thought, the Pavonans were not exactly rushing towards them. Surely there was time enough to restore a fighting formation?

So, as on a few previous occasions, it’s quiz time. This is the end of Turn 2. You’ve seen the battle in great detail, and know quite a bit about the forces involved. Who’s gonna win this one?

Next part to follow soon.

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 30, 2014, 05:28:40 PM
Awww, go on go on go on go on ... someone have a guess (educated or not) re: the winner. It's my contention that at this point in the battle, what with the two players being very amateurish at 8th ed, and both roleplaying their army commanders well, that it could go either way from this point.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on July 31, 2014, 12:01:58 PM
I say the Pavonans
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on August 03, 2014, 12:10:30 AM
I think its a trick question  :biggriin:

Looking forward to the rest of the battle report though, stop stalling!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 04, 2014, 10:23:26 PM
I'll post the next bit, Uryens, and we'll see if your prediction looks more likely. And Von Kurst, rather than delay any more, 'll put the next bit up even though I haven't quite got to the end yet.

The Trantian mercenary crossbowmen and halberdiers watched as the few surviving Pavonan pistoliers found the courage to rally.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces15_zpsf544edbe.jpg)

At that moment, Duke Guidobaldo at last gave the signal to his army to advance at the double and attack the foe in bloody combat. Swordsmen, knights and halberdiers now all came on, glad to see their enemy had divided itself in two.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces16_zpsc956c63a.jpg)

The Pavonan gunners on the hill could not believe their luck as they aligned the barrel of their piece to aim down a line of the Compagnia del Sole’s mounted men at arms. Lowering the linstock to touch burning matchcord to the trail of bruised powder dribbled behind the touchhole they sent a roundshot through no less than five of the armoured riders. The survivors, the men of the front-rank, were stunned, then their shock turned into anger rather than fear – anger at their own stupidity as well as at the foe. (Game Note: Boy, was I cursing. Those figures took me ages to paint!)

Unwilling to allow the Pavonans to gain all the initiative, and hoping somehow to buy some time for the prince’s knights and the mercenary halberdiers to get themselves into the fight, the Trantian militia pikemen now charged the blue and white swordsmen before them. As the two regiments clashed, the banners flew thick above them, for each side carried both their own regimental and their army’s banners. The fight was instantly bloody, a furious melee in which seven swordsmen and six pikemen died while the commanders fought gallantly in their midst. (Game Note: Annoyingly, I forgot to direct any of up to six possible, re-rolling ones, attacks against the enemy wizard, who would surely have perished had I done so!)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces17_zps24e16fa1.jpg)

General Fortebraccio, commander of the Compagnia del Sole, knew full well what was required of him, and gave the command for his regiment to reform as swiftly as possible so that he could march them up rapidly in support. His men, however, proved sluggish and distracted, and it was all he could do to get them to face towards the massed foe instead of the pistoliers. (Game Note: A pretty critical ‘swift reform’ failure!) He knew he would be hard pushed now to get into the fight quickly enough to swing the balance.

The wizard Luchino conjured a harmonic convergence to bless the pike and the crossbowmen, then, deftly directing the winds of magic swirling around him, he sent flashes of chain lightning tearing into the second regiment of Pavonan halberdiers, killing six, then he lured it to strike at the Duke’s own knights, killing two of them also. The last few searing bolts then strayed towards the handgunner detachment to kill another two men. The sound of thunder followed, as is normally the case with mundane lightning, but it was actually the Trantian artillery piece spitting a hail of grapeshot into the pistoliers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces18_zpsf08df92c.jpg)

Two more pistoliers died. The surviving pair, perhaps too exhausted, battered and bruised to fully comprehend the awful damage done to them, simply spurred their horses away from the smoke that wreathed them and galloped back towards the centre of the field.

Prince Girenzo, leading his gentlemen-at-arms, began now to swing around towards the enemy flank. As he himself rounded the hill, he could see that his militia pike were much reduced in strength and that not only were the enemy’s own heavy horsemen were launching into a charge into the isolated pikemen’s flank, but a regiment of halberdiers were about to hit the other flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces19_zpsbaf849c2.jpg)

As the chargers went smashing in …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces20_zps59d49b41.jpg)

… the prince signalled to his men to follow him. If the pike could hold just a little longer against the foe, even though outnumbered and surrounded on three sides, then he would be leading his knights into the enemy’s rear and would surely do great harm to them.

There was another small regiment of enemy halberdiers unengaged behind the melee …
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces22_zps02b85674.jpg)

… but Prince Girenzo reckoned he and his knights could still prevail. All hinged upon whether his militia stood their ground.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces21_zps398592de.jpg)

Far to the rear the last surviving Compagnia del Sole mounted man at arms accompanied Captain Scarpa as he splashed over the Little Carrena towards the Pavonan baggage. The two of them intended to kill the peasants tending the horses and mules, then gallop up the slope beyond to the cannon, there to avenge the brutal slaying of their comrades.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces23_zpsbc51b27c.jpg)

The Pavonans’ attempts at conjuring magical harm were proving weak, while their cannon shot at Prince Girenzo’s knights simply buried itself into the earth. The last two blood-spattered Pavonan pistoliers brought down two of the Compagnia del Sole’s baggage guard with their shots and a volley from their handgunners maimed one of the Prince’s horse artillery crewmen.

The melee in the centre of the field proved to be costly, with more than half a dozen men killed on each side. While Lord Polcario struggled to get to grips with a surprisingly nimble-footed champion, the Trantine battle standard bearer – made somewhat more deadly by the magical Harmonic Convergence still blessing him and the regiment - slew the cowering Pavonan wizard and wounded their own battle standard bearer. Just like his son, Duke Guidobaldo could not find purchase for his blade. Perhaps it was the brightly coloured enemy standard fluttering in his face, all of six foot by six foot, that distracted him?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces25_zps797f03cb.jpg)

Within moments, before most the men fighting had taken more than two or three strained breaths, the ground was strewn with the dead and dying.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces24_zpscd9e5873.jpg)
(Game Note: An enforced break in game-play allowed me to do some posed shots, a luxury not normally open to me.)

A little way behind the mercenary general Micheletto Fortebrachio watched. For a brief moment he too wondered if the pikemen could hold. If so then he could lead his veteran halberdiers into the flank of the enemy knights. Such an action would win them the battle for certain, for as the Prince cut into the rear of the foe from the other flank, he and his own men could hack down both Pavonan lords, the Duke and his son.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces26_zpsc5d0af23.jpg)

In truth, the fate of the whole of central Tilea hung in the balance. If the Lord of Pavona and his heir died here, then Trantio would become the major power. If the Trantians failed, Pavona was very likely to swallow yet another state in into its growing empire.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces27_zps2865987e.jpg)

Yet, despite the heroic actions of their commanders and the close proximity of their prince and general, the Trantian pikemen broke and ran, to be hacked down by the pursuing Pavonan nobility. (Game Note: I had a re-rollable 6 or less break test. And failed. What a difference a pass would have made! Still, I am the campaign GM not a player so I don’t actually care – story is all to me!)

General Fortebraccio had time enough merely to shout the command to brace, before the Pavonan knights hit him and his halberdiers at full gallop.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces28_zpsb759cd8d.jpg)

Even now Prince Trantio saw that the battle was not lost for certain. While the Compagnia del Sole’s halberdiers held the Pavonan knights, he and his gentlmen could conceivably cut a swathe through the foe, so that he could face Duke Guidobaldo himself. And as he thought this, he realised it was what he wanted all along – to face his enemy in personal combat and to cut him down with his own sword.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces29_zps346312b2.jpg)

It was time to order the charge.

(Now half way through turn 4. It’ll be a couple of days before I can complete the rest.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on August 06, 2014, 11:16:17 PM
I want to say the Compagnia del Sole. But that's the thing about battles. You never know whose won until much, much later.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 07, 2014, 03:02:43 PM
In this case, Doowop, you're gonna find out right now...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

If he was to reach the Duke, Prince Girenzo would have plough his way through several intervening units. This he was entirely happy to do, itching to begin the excitement of sword play in a life and death melee. The first unit in his way was a company of swordsmen, so with a thunder of hooves he and his men set off. The swordsmen had seen the prince’s approach, however, and promptly fled away long before he could reach them. This left the prince and his little body of gentlemen staring at both the wide muzzle of the cannon and the multiple mouths of the helblaster volley gun. In that moment, the prince’s previous excitement was snuffed out. (Game Note: For years now I have had the bad habit of forgetting to take into account the fact that a charged foe can simply opt to run away, which can be critical if the charge is a long one. I am beginning to wonder if my opponents have long since cottoned on to this deficiency in my thinking.)

The Duke and his son hit the Compagnia’s halberdiers hard, slaying eight of them, including the wizard Janacci, while Lord Polcario bloodied General Fortebraccio in a personal combat.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces30_zps05178f94.jpg)

The men of the Compagnia seemed to understand that their reputation and any chance of future success lay upon this combat and stood their ground defiantly. Once again, however, the Pavonans were readying themselves to charge against a Trantian regiments flank, and the orders were already being shouted to the battered but intact body of halberdiers close by. Thus it was that they charged, led bravely by their stout champion wielding a bright steel, flamberge bladed bastard sword.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces34_zpsa1b8d2d0.jpg)

The last surviving pair of pistoliers now charged headlong into the left flank of the large body of crossbowmen on the hill, who had only recently reformed away from the pistoliers in the assumption that they no longer represented a threat! The men guarding the baggage were glad not to be receiving pistol shots, but unnerved by the fact that the enemy was riding so freely close by. Witnessing the blue and white halberdiers crashing into the flank of General Fortebraccio’s guard hardly reassured them either.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces31_zps6840f602.jpg)

The last surviving Pavonan wizard, having spotted the prince and his knights, now wove a powerful spell indeed out of the winds of magic gushing about him. Once satisfied he had bound as much power in as possible, he sent a magical blast of searing heat at the heavily armoured band, the sort of assault that their layers of steel not only failed to provide protection against, but actually made things worse. Three of the prince’s six companions fell screaming from their saddles as their mounts bucked, reared and squealed horribly, their own hide being burned by the now super-heated metal they too wore. His flesh sorely singed, the prince tore his helm from his head and gave vent to a loud curse, something which was for him so unusual that two of his surviving gentlemen at arms turned to look at him rather than their badly suffering comrades. They even failed to notice as an iron roundshot flew just above their plumed helms, but then were cruelly snapped out of their stupor as the helblaster sent a very loudly clattering hail of leaden balls into them, one of which went through the slit of a visor to instantly kill the man wearing it.

Prince Girenzo, blood pouring from his ear which had been grazed by a lead-shot, his sword hanging limp from a leather strap tied to his wrist, his own personal standard flying ragged above his head, and his body blistered in a dozen places from what magical heat had burned his own armour, found his voice had abandoned him. So, with great haste, yet silently, and with wisps of smoke trailing behind them, he and his last two companions yanked their reins to turn their horses about and fled from the field in the direction of Trantio city.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces32_zps3ab3e642.jpg)

For him at least, this battle was over: his army was destroyed, his mercenaries in the process of being so. His city, however, still survived. There he had a standing garrison force, and even some artillery pieces too heavy to be brought to this battle. He did not intend also to lose his home to the Duke of Pavona, and it was with this stubborn aim in mind, rather than anguish or fear, that he rode hard and fast away from the battlefield. He had work to do.

The two pistoliers managed to shoot one of the crossbowmen, but the foe lost no time reforming to face them and bring their strength to bear.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces33_zpsd50b9923.jpg)

At the rear of the field, entirely unaware of how ill the battle fared for the Compagnia elsewhere, and having slaughtered all those accompanying the Pavonan baggage train, Captain Scarpa’s angry rage failed to dissipate, so he rode on to attack the crew of the cannon that had felled so many of his men.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces35_zps28ea4497.jpg)

In the midst of the field, surrounded by scattered corpses and wounded men writhing in agony, the combat continued. General Fortebraccio rained blows upon Lord Polcario, yet was unable to harm him. The Compagnia del Sole’s halberdiers fought bravely and skilfully, killing another knight in the Duke’s retinue (so that only one now remained with Duke and his son), as well as an enemy halberdier. At another time, with more enemies threatening, this might have broken the Pavonans, but even as they were bloodied and pushed back, they could sense the enemy's desperation, and besides they knew full well that the battle was nearly won. They were not going to run now.

Prince Girenzo’s light artillery piece’s barrel now shivered, maiming both men still crewing it, while near the Compagnia’s baggage the pistoliers broke and fled away from the crossbowmen. In the middle of the field Lord Polcario and General Fortebraccio could still do each other no harm, but the halberdiers brought down the last Pavonan knight. The Duke now redoubled his efforts, which had been mighty before, and cut down two of the foe, as to more fell to his own halberdiers fighting on the flank. This was the end for the mercenaries, who now, finally, turned to flee, only for each and every one of them to be trampled or hacked down as they did so. General Fortebraccio lay dying amongst them, so battered and bloody that he was barely recognisable, just another broken corpse in the pile.

As the Duke and Lord Polcario, accompanied now by the last few survivors of the halberdiers, came galloping and running past them, the pistoliers rallied yet again. They halted momentarily to see that the crossbowmen who had just sent them running were now marching away from the hill and the battlefield, then realised that the noblemen and soldiers they had just encountered were cheering as they burst upon the baggage train, killing all those who cowered there.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/BattleOfThePrinces36_zps5fb95528.jpg)

With the merest of glances at each other, as if to ask: “Are you still able and willing?” they spurred their mounts and rushed on to join the looting.

The Battle of the Princes was over, another victory for Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona. Another sign that his war was just (despite what the Reman priests were saying). His army had frightened Prince Girenzo off the field, all but utterly destroyed the Compagnia del Sole and re-captured the loot taken from his own realm. And all this had been done with him and his son at the fore, in the thickest of the fighting, earning glory and honour in the eyes of his men. There would be no stopping him now.

(Game Note: I nearly began writing all about what else is going on, the Duke’s plans and expectations, whether or not he is to be reinforced, and what he intends next. But then I remembered this is a campaign, the Duke is a player character, and the player in question would not thank me for revealing such things. Ah well, I will have to make do with an epilogue from an NPC’s perspective, which should follow shortly.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on August 07, 2014, 03:31:41 PM
Nailed it.

The Compagnia Del Sol were in battle, stand  to reason they'd lose hah
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 07, 2014, 03:37:58 PM
Nailed it.

The Compagnia Del Sol were in battle, stand  to reason they'd lose hah

My big problem now is that I own all these Compagnia del Sole figures. Either (a) they slowly reform or (b) I re-paint their livery and call them something else! Or (c) I forget about them (fools) and bring in a force that'll scare all of you!

Hmm, Tilean campaign - what could that force be? Hmm.

In the meantime, I still (bizarrely) have a last few Compagnia soldiers to finish painting! (You'll see why soon.) Oh, and I've been collecting fiddly bits of plastic for some months now for another project. And I have more undead in the early stages of painting. And a new packet of Wood Elves. Oh, and the players are quite understandably concerned re: why everything takes me so long!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on August 07, 2014, 07:54:21 PM
I'm sorry but I cannot give my blessing to this
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 07, 2014, 08:49:34 PM
I'm sorry but I cannot give my blessing to this

Ooh, now that was very unexpected.  :icon_biggrin: I never thought that his holiness the Arch-Lector of Morr, Calticus II himself would speak here. I especially did not expect him to frame his announcement of disgust as an apology!

BTW: Hello Cagicus. There's stuff coming your way soon re: the campaign - letters, ambassadors, and that sort of thing.

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: damo_b on August 08, 2014, 11:54:17 AM
Compagnia Del Sol good as ever.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on August 08, 2014, 01:19:43 PM
His holiness himself? No. I merely have... an association with his holiness.
I expect, he would, like me, view this in sorrow. Good men, Lords and commoners alike, who will all come to Morr in the end to give account for their worldly choices have chosen to spill each other's blood for mere politics while the undead menace grows. The church, and indeed all right loving peoples look on in sorrow.
But all is not lost. I know his holiness is praying for you all and would forgive and welcome with open arms any who repent and flock to the true cause.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on August 08, 2014, 10:50:51 PM
I still think, emotionally, the Compagnia won....

You planning on using the upcoming Perry plastics to flesh out your forces?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 21, 2014, 10:55:02 PM
(@ Doowop: I do indeed intend to get a hold of them. Though fleshing out my forces isn't strictly necessary at this stage. It's more a matter of painting the same sort of stuff but in different colours!)

..........................................................

Battle of the Princes
Epilogue: I Surrender


A few miles south of Trantio City

Even before he opened the lid of the battered chest, Ruggero knew it would be waste of time. He raised it anyway, snapping one of the old hinges in the process. The lid fell backwards with a clump to hang ungainly and twisted. Inside lay moth-eaten rags and the ugly remains of a child’s poppet, a dead spider still clinging to the gaping hole in its mouldy, paper mache head.

“There’s absolutely nothing here of any use,” he said, not for the first time.

Placido was crouching down to look beneath the cloth upon the table, his armour clattering as he did so. After little more than a glance he pulled his head away with a disgusted cough and let the cloth drop back, but not before Ruggero caught a glimpse of the pot beneath. By the look on Placido’s face it had obviously not been emptied in a while.

“Nothing we can eat, anyway,” said Placido.

Ruggero suppressed a grin. “Whoever lives here must’ve taken it all with them.” He sat himself down on a rickety stool and dragged the blue and maroon cap from his head to scratch behind his ear. If last night had not been so cold, and this night likely to be so again, he would have discarded the cap and his similarly liveried tunic too. If he was going to be caught he would rather be taken for a Trantian soldier than a mercenary of the Compagnia del Sole. Duke Guidobaldo and his Pavonans hated the Trantians, but had much more of a grudge to settle with the Compagnia. Maybe he ought to try the rags in the chest, see if they could keep him warm? Maybe he could wrap himself in the cloth from the table tonight.

“Could have been some other soldiers got here before us,” suggested Placido.

Ruggero shook his head. “No, I don’t reckon that’s it. The place was too neat and tidy. This chest would have been smashed open already, and all the rest scattered higgledy-piggedy.” Much as it was now, he thought, after his and Placido’s search.

Placido slumped in the one chair by the table, causing it to creak loudly at the unaccustomed weight of a fully armoured man. He grinned, like he always did before saying something daft. “There’s a pot under there if you need to go.”

“I’d need food in my belly some time in the last three days for that to happen.”

“We should have gone with the others,” said Placido. “Renato il Famelico was with them, and he can smell food out like a hound can sniff out a hare.”

“No, it was - and is - best we’re on our own. The others’ll be leaving a trail behind them a blind man could follow, never mind a hound. We’ll do better making our own way.”

“Right then,” said Placido with enthusiasm, as if all of a sudden he was fully rested. Getting to his feet once more he gestured to the door. “Let’s make our own way. We don’t want to tarry here too long.”

Ruggero stayed put on his stool. “Tell me, Placido, if you’re so keen to move quickly, why are you still wearing your armour? We’re on foot, just the two of us, fleeing for our lives from a victorious foe who wants our guts for garters, and you’re still sporting plate steel from head to toe. How in Myrmidia's name does that make any sense?”

Placido was standing by the back door, his hand resting on the bar. “It makes plenty of sense. For a start if we have to fight, or if someone sees us from afar and thinks to send a quarrel our way, then I’d rather have the armour on than off. And, when we get away, we’ve got nothing else to sell. This armour will sell for gold, not mere silver. And that will buy us food, and plenty of it.”

If we get away, not when,” corrected Ruggero. “Right now, getting away is far more important than what we do after we get away.”

“Then let’s get away,” said Placido, a note of frustration in his voice from having to repeat himself. He hefted the bar from its hooks and dropped it to the ground. When he turned the handle and pushed however, the door did not budge. “Locked,” he announced. “So …" (he glanced around) "we go out the way we came in.”

Ruggero hushed him, and raised a hand to tell him not to move either. “I just heard something outside,” he whispered.

“Huh?”

“When you dropped the bar - I heard something.”

“Oh, it’s always my fault, isn’t it?”

“Sshh!”

As the window was shuttered, Ruggero moved to the front door instead. It made no difference whether he opened the door or the shutter, if there was someone outside they would notice either way. Might as well be bold and use the door. That way, if there was trouble, there would already be a means for a quick exit.

Once again Ruggero whispered. “I’ll go take a look.” Somewhat distracted by his predicament, he pulled the cap back down on his head, then stepped boldly through the door. Dazzled by the sunlight outside, he could not help but close his eyes momentarily. As he opened them slowly, blinking, blue and white shapes before him took form. His eyes grew wide.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/SurrenderA_zpsa2de3738.jpg)

He gulped. The shapes were Pavonan soldiers, and lots of them. The bright light was glittering upon the polished, sharpened steel of the halberd points they lowered towards him.

“Good morrow,” he said, trying to sound unafraid.

A question came from somewhere among the crowd, although Ruggero was too dazzled and discomfited to identify who exactly said it. “Anyone else?”

“Placido,” he shouted, his voice faltering a little as he raised his hands. “Best come out, and best hold your hands up.”

Another time the clattering of Placido’s approach might have seemed comical. Just now, such jollity was far from Ruggero’s mind.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Surrender1_zps855f9c1e.jpg)

As Placido emerged through the door, the steel tips came a little closer, and Ruggero noticed a pistol muzzle in their midst.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Surrender2_zps359d664e.jpg)

It was levelled right at his breast, held in the armoured hand of a dismounted pistolier.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Surrender3_zps343519a7.jpg)

Another voice spoke. “Looks like we’ve got a brace of bad ‘uns here, lads. The same naughty thieves who thought they might plunder and burn our villages, then run away.”

This time Ruggero had enough wits about him to see who it was – a Pavonan officer, a young man with an orange and blue panache sprouting flamboyantly from his cap. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered these where also the colours of the Morrite Guard in Remas. The officer also clutched a pistol.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Surrender3B_zps73a6d0c1.jpg)

“This one isn’t running anymore, though” the Pavonan continued. “I suppose what with you doing so much running, from Venafro, from Astiano, from the Little Carrena, your legs are tired?”

It was not the sort of question one was expected to answer. Behind the already plentiful blades, even more Pavonan soldiers were arriving, joining the throng outside the cottage to see what had been found.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Surrender4_zpse62e0d5f.jpg)

The Pistolier stepped even closer. “You dogs,” he said, “have a lot to answer for.” He formed his words slowly, as if it pained him to say them. “Good men died trying to teach you a lesson. I reckon if you can’t learn it, then there’s no point in the lesson continuing.” He turned the pistol on its side, the way riders often did to make a mere flash in the pan a little less likely.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Surrender3A_zps4ad8879e.jpg)

Ruggero knew there was little he could do to save himself. Just like his choice between the door and the window, whether he spoke or held his tongue, it made no difference. It was not his way, however, simply to give in. “I don’t suppose there’s any way we can make these words not my last?” he asked, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

(Edited for grammar.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 30, 2014, 08:11:53 AM
Trantio Tested
The last days of 2401

The war between Pavona and Trantio had raged for half a year until now, for the first time, one of the two cities was directly threatened. Prince Girenzo of Trantio, fled home from his crushing defeat at the Little Carrena, mustered his last remaining mercenaries and militia soldiers to man the city walls and vowed that despite the odds, the enemy would not take his city. His officers set about stockpiling supplies for the forthcoming siege, seeking out potential saboteurs and spies, and ordering labourers to repair and strengthen. Crossbowmen patrolled the huge stone walls and halberdiers guarded the gates, while artillery pieces were hauled up earthen ramps to be emplaced upon the towers. Trantio became a hive of desperate activity. Although many were frightened and some were panicked, few among the populace begrudged the labours, for when a threatened people toil willingly for their own defence.

Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona had also been busy, scouting the approaches to Trantio city. He ordered the land scoured to gather of sufficient fodder for his horses and provisions for his men, thus preventing the foe from taking the same, as well as the cutting down of trees to fashion great numbers of scaling ladders. Before his siege camp was even completed he received numerous reinforcements from his own realm to swell the ranks of his victorious but battered force. Then when satisfied that he was ready to assault the city he sent a herald unto the very walls of Trantio to issue a summons to yield. No answer was given, so the Duke ordered his army to array in the fields before the southern gate, while his lightest troops, being huntsmen and pistoliers, moved boldly within range of the walls as if they cared nothing for the crossbowmen and cannons upon them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle1_zpsd520ea60.jpg)

Such rashness seemed recently to have become the way of the Pavonans, for they believed themselves to be the favoured servants of Morr, and further that Morr was the greatest of gods, a combination which raised them above all other states in worthiness, bravery and honour. Some of the older soldiers amongst them may well have muttered that such rashness was more to do with the Duke’s tyrannical nature, secretly praying to Myrmidia as they and always done before battle was joined. Others simply revelled in their string of victories and the plentiful loot gained thereby. All seemed happy to put aside the niggling fears concerning the dire threat of the undead armies in the north – that was something to worry about later. As the wisest among the soldiery put it: when the evil enemy did come, they would find Pavona defended behind a ring of conquered cities and towns, so that the fighting could be done there and not in the blessed streets of fair Pavona.

As the Pavonans arrayed themselves, inside the ramparts of the southern gate Prince Girenzo directed messengers hither and thither along the walls to deliver his orders. He was flanked by the two last surviving gentlemen at arms who had accompanied him from the Little Carrena, the rest having been brutally slain by a bloodily brutal combination of the mystical and mundane (magical fire and roundshot). So it was that Prince Girenzo knew full well what the Pavonans were capable of - how they cared not a jot for the quality of a man, nor respected the unwritten laws dictating the nature of civilised warfare between city states in Tilea, but instead happily employed wizardry and black powder to slay noble knights. Such behaviour might be expected of the basest sort of mercenaries, or northerners, and certainly of the wicked races of greenskins or ratmen, but Tileans ought to know better. The prince still reeled at the cruel loss of such good men, never mind his army, and had determined to exact vengeance in whatever way he could. Yet to look at him, none would know he harboured such fury and hatred, and he was the very essence of calm as he quietly issued his commands.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle2_zps8e4c6671.jpg)

Upon the towers of Trantio the artillerymen hefted their iron-shot into the muzzles of their pieces ..

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle3_zpseb7a3e9e.jpg)

… while in the fields beyond the walls the enemy’s gunners did exactly the same.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle4_zps0a20e631.jpg)

Duke Guidobaldo’s plan was simple: Batter down the gate, surely the weakest spot in the city’s defences, and then assault through the gap thus created. Such was his determination that he was not troubled by the fact the enemy would no doubt have prepared for exactly such an attack, nor that his army would thus inevitably suffer great casualties. When his son, Lord Polcario, questioned the order (being the only person in the Duke’s army who would dare to do so) the Duke answered that soldiers were fools if they did not expect to die upon the field of battle, and besides, those who died would all the sooner receive the tender care of Morr, dwelling eternally in his favour because of the service they had done him. Nevertheless, while his artillery battery was placed directly before the gate, and several companies ordered towards it …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle5_zps6325888d.jpg)

… he himself, and his son, marched on foot with two regiments towards the walls to the east of the gate. He had no intention of personally joining the deadly assault through the shattered gate, but instead intended to scale the walls left weakly defended by the foe’s need to mass soldiers at the gate.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle6_zps388c4cee.jpg)

The Duke’s army now not only contained Pavonans. He had never been particularly reliant on mercenaries, and nor was he now, for bolstering his blue and white liveried native soldiers was a new-raised regiment of Astianan swordsmen, recruited from those thugs and bravi dwelling in his recently conquered possession who had no qualms about serving their tyrannical conqueror, provided they were paid.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle7_zps1cdadc14.jpg)

Still, he did not wholly trust them, nor consider them yet worthy of full acceptance into his army. So it was they did not carry a blue and white Pavonan standard, but rather bore their own city’s standard, fastened upside down upon the staff to symbolise their subjection. By proving themselves to him I battle, he had promised they would earn the right to carry the arms of Astiano in the proper manner.

Amongst the duke’s ranks strolled two wizards, one of which had arrived with the reinforcements, having travelled from the distant and mysterious realm of Cathay. He was a skilled wielder of fire magic and would prove himself an asset several times in the fight to come, bathing the walls in streams of fire, although it was the Pavonan wizard who would to become closely involved in Lord Polcario’s fate.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle8_zps33c903a5.jpg)

The battle began with a thunderous volley from the Trantian artillery which proved very effective indeed. As the roar reverberated around the walls, Duke Guidobaldo was shocked to see that two of his three great-cannons had been destroyed before even firing a shot. The Trantian crossbowmen lining the walls failed to add much more harm to this destructive start, however, as they were frantically running from wall to tower to wall to better position themselves to receive the foes’ ladder assaults.

Somehow the gunners on the last surviving Pavonan piece were not disheartened by the loss of their comrades, and busied themselves all the more to do what their Lord had presumed he needed three cannons to do. They sent a ball to crunch into the stones beside the wooden gate (Game note: We were using the old 6th ed siege rules, thus the random assignment of either the actual gate or the wall section in which the gate was set – does seem an odd rule, considering the way cannons normally target down a very fixed line, but that’s what the book says!) The Pavonans marched closer to the walls, their pistoliers firing clattering volleys at the men atop them, while crossbow bolts finally began to rain down from them. The Trantian cannons fired, but this time one ball ploughed into the ground before the last Pavonan cannon, while the other merely clipped it. With loud prayers to Morr that the barrel had not been cracked (and silent prayers to Myrmidia to protect them from such a flaw), the attackers reloaded with extra powder and fired again at the gate. This time their ball hit almost exactly the same spot and in so doing, perhaps due to some flaw in the construction or a weakness which manifested over the centuries, collapsed one entire side of the gate tower. (Game Note: Roll of 10 on damage, +10 strength, +1 for extra charge of powder, +1 for previous damage inflicted, result = 22 – collapse.) Luckily, Prince Girenzo had already left that part of the wall to make his way over to the parts where the enemy’s ladders would be placed. Of the eight crossbowmen atop that part of the wall, only two managed to leap to safety. Afterwards, they scrambled into the rubble, while glancing back to see if those inside were rushing to do the same.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle9_zps2f7d8056.jpg)

With the creation of such a gaping hole in the defences, and the arrival of the massed regiments of foot at the base of the walls, whilst magical fire and volleys of helblaster shot burst through the crenellations to topple the grievously injured defenders backwards, it was obvious that the Trantians would certainly take the city. Whilst the last surviving defenders fought on as best they could …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsBattle10_zps969fad04.jpg)

… Prince Girenzo tore off his richly embroidered surcoat, unsheathed his sword and leapt up to stand at the crenellations, his last surviving guard by his side. Below he saw a veritable sea of blue and white clad swordsmen setting ladders to the wall, the Duke and Lord Polcario visible amongst them. At last his pent up rage could no longer be contained. Just as another prince might consider flight, or surrender, or at least a desperate offer of parley, he could think only of vengeance for deeds done, and for what the loss he was about to suffer. He knew his city was lost. He knew his life was forfeit. And he knew he would make the Duke pay dearly.

A stream of shouted curses came pouring forth from his lips. He called the men below rogues and robbers for the taking of Astiano; vile, base men, the worst sort of scum, for the butchery of his nobles. He saw how the Duke was ordering his men onto the ladders, whilst holding his son back, so he laughed and mocked and dared either ‘creature’ to face him. Already his last companion was fighting one, then two, then three of the attackers as they poured up the ladders and over the wall, but Prince Girenzo did not notice, so engrossed was he in insulting the two noblemen below, declaring the Duke a madman, a lunatic, for thinking himself the most blessed of Morr, and if not that, then a liar for claiming such nonsense. His companion now fell to the enemy’s blades and yet still the prince did not notice.

He saw Duke Guidobaldo holding his son by his shoulders to speak a few words, then release him. Lord Polcario stood as if in a daze, then with a slight nod, began to ascend the ladder. Falling silent at last, Prince Girenzo pulled his helm on and lifted the visor to watch with sick fascination as the young lord climbed with an unnatural, inhuman grace. In fact, every Pavonan soldier now climbing seemed to be similarly imbued with an uncanny nimbleness. For a moment Prince Girenzo wondered whether he had somehow unknowingly suffered a blow, and that it was he himself who was disorientated. When he saw the wizard among the mass of soldiers below, however, hands a-dancing to conjure and control, he understood -  Polcario and the others had been imbued with magical power, or he himself cursed, or both. (Game Note: Pha’s Protection and Speed of Light at play here, as well as the Helm of Discord and the Terrifying Mask of Eee! Not so good for the prince!)

Girenzo shook his head to clear it, clenched his teeth and steeled himself for what was to come. Bursting with hatred he did not wait until Lord Polcario had mounted the wall, but hacked at him even while he was still on the ladder. The time for honourable gestures had long since passed. The magical energies woven around Polcario, however, proved disorientating enough to mean that despite the prince’s blows, the Pavonan lord still managed to mount the wall.

Now a crowd of soldiers stood either side, while more kept appearing at the top of the ladders, as the two nobles hacked hard and fast at each other, parrying, feinting and clattering blades upon armour.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsChallenge2_zpsc49cda8b.jpg)

The fight was not over quickly, with both men stumbling and slipping more than once, as their armour stopped blow after blow (Game Note: full plate plus enchanted shield and both with 4+ ward saves) and the Pavonan wizard was kept busy maintaining his magic. Until suddenly, the winds of magic weakened and the spell melted away. Lord Polcario was momentarily slowed, and somehow Prince Girenzo noticed it.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/TrantioFallsChallenge1_zps78c61566.jpg)

Both lords, dizzied by exertion and the magical energies crackling around them, stepped back, their gasping breaths audible to all around. Then, with all their might, they both lunged, their heavy blades squealing down each other to plunge through their breastplates at one and the same time. For a moment they stood, locked by their deathly grip upon their hilts and the blades piercing right through them, then collapsed together loudly against the parapet wall into a tangled heap of steel-clad limbs.

Slipping on the puddle of blood beneath them, two Pavonan soldiers tore them apart and rolled Prince Girenzo over the side to crash into the yard below, while others shouted down to the Duke that Lord Polcario was grievously wounded. Elsewhere the remaining defenders were fleeing the walls and running into the city streets, while Pavonan halberdiers, handgunners and swordsmen climbed ladders or clambered over the rubble.

Around Lord Polcario, however, only one man moved, kneeling down to lift Polcario’s head and remove his helm. He looked into the young lord’s eyes, then said only one word: “Dead.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Armfelt on August 30, 2014, 06:13:37 PM
Looks really good and good initiative with the story-mode!  :happy:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: fauthsie on September 02, 2014, 08:59:28 PM
Brilliant stuff mate!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 12, 2014, 08:49:30 PM
Thank you Fauthsie and Armfelt! I just wish I could find the time to move things along a little bit quicker - if only for my poor, necessarily patient players! But we have reached the end of the fourth campaign season and so my general report now begins ...  (NB: It's a 'General Report' to differentiate it from the individual, private reports my players receive concerning their own personal affairs, actions and knowledge. I still have all of them to write.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of Season 4 (Winter 2401-2) General Report Part One

A letter from the Council of Urbimo to the Princes and Rulers of Tilea
In which we lay bare the Terror of the North, and in so doing warn all those living souls dwelling south of our desperate and besieged city of the threat now facing each and every one of them.


This is no exercise in scare-mongering, nor the skewed account of a people living in fear, exaggerating and lying in order to convince others to come to their aid. Our bravest youths have sailed the coasts and crept through the wildernesses to look upon these things with their own eyes. Those who returned – and sadly this included less than half of those who ventured forth - have reported what they witnessed. And now we report the same to you.

Despite the demise of the vampire Duke Alessandro Sforta, the undead threat is not merely undiminished, but in fact growing. The reigns of power in Miragliano remain in the clutches of vampiric hands, with the once-captain of the guard Theobald Hackspit declaring his new and eternal rule of both that realm and the city of Ebino. Viadaza also has fallen, its ruler Lord Adolfo succumbing both to undeath and the vampire Duchess Maria, who sired him. If she were living then the duchess would be the heir to Miragliano, yet considering Miragliano, Ebino and Viadaza have become corrupt and cursed realms, perhaps she will soon rule all three?

Although now become a place of eerie shadows, Miragliano is not still, nor entirely quiet. Few speak there, and certainly there are none who sing, but footsteps can be heard, the creaking of doors and gates, and the sound of picks and shovels tearing at the ground, for the dead are busy with labours. Hackspitt, desirous of an ever stronger army, beyond that which the city’s current graveyards can provide, has ordered his foul servants into the forgotten and ruinous corners of his realm to dig up the most ancient of charnel pits and the most ruinous of tumbledown temples, and so acquire the bleached and brittle bones of the long dead.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_1_zps06a6cd96.jpg)

Fleshless carcasses are being collected in great piles, then carried by tireless slaves to Hackspitt’s necromantic minions, who employ foul magics to conjure the cold spark of un-life into them, thus swelling the ranks and files of his terrible legions. Our spies have seen skeletons clambering through crumbling ruins hefting baskets almost the size of gabions upon their shoulders, as well as trains of rickety carts hauled by rotting, fly blown nags.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_2_zpsb9fe0d90.jpg)

More than this, Hackspitt’s lifeless legions have scoured the realm for everything and anything of value: gold, silver and treasures of all kinds. Clattering carts carry locked chests containing every silver florin, scudo and lira that can be found. Even casks of wine are being carried to Hackspitt’s palace, or if not wine, then perhaps blood to feed the evil appetite of the vampiric rulers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_3_zps7edc5ccb.jpg)

And worse than all these things is the continued suffering of the living. Not every poor soul in Miragliano has yet succumbed either to death or undeath, but some few unlucky inhabitants hide even now in terror, squatting in shadows, ever trembling with the knowledge that at any moment they might be seen by eyeless sockets and grabbed by fleshless hands. Every village, hamlet and farm is being scoured and ransacked, and while all are robbed, and some are killed …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_4_zps76d690dd.jpg)

… the rest - the unluckiest of all - are taken prisoner. We cannot claim that we know their fate, but we can state with certainty that we do not want to know it, either to be told it or to suffer that same fate ourselves.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_5_zps377f0a17.jpg)

And so we hereby add our cry to that of His Holiness Calictus II, and call on all god-fearing Tileans, for the love of the gods, family and neighbours, and for the love of all that is right and good, to arm themselves and make haste to face these most terrible of foes before their evil consumes so much of the realm that it can no longer be defeated.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This Letter to His Holiness Calictus II, Arch-Lector of the Most Worthy Church of Morr & de facto ruler of the Ancient City State of Remas, from Your Most Loyal and Obedient Servant Father Erkhart, Your Ambassador to the City State of Pavona

Published openly for the perusal of all well-affected subjects and citizens of the Tilean states, that they might know the good news contained herein, and that it may give hope to each and everyone.

I have good news to deliver unto you which will without doubt please you greatly, as it is certain to further the cause of the church of Morr in Tilea in its fight against the foul foe to the north. As you commanded, I made my way towards the city state of Pavona accompanied by the fine elven horse soldiers you sent to guard me, but soon discovered that Duke Guidobaldo was not currently at his home city, being instead in command of  his army in the war against his enemy the tyrant Prince Girenzo de Medizi of Trantio. I thus immediately altered my course to search out the Pavonan army and met with it at the very walls of Trantio only hours after the Duke had taken the city. Although victory had been achieved, the soldiers’ celebrations were somewhat muted in light of the sad death of Lord Polcario, the Duke's eldest son, who was killed even as he dispatched the tyrant prince to his own death. Thus it was that I found myself only hours too late to deliver your Holiness’s words and the call to crusade in which Tilea's desperate need for peace amongst princes was so clearly stipulated, and indeed in which the threat of excommunication was made should any prince continue with aggression against his living neighbours. When I delivered the letter and your spoken intentions to my lord Guidobaldo, he was much saddened that I had not arrived in time to prevent the continuation of the war, or even to make the tyrant Prince Girenzo recognise his folly in ordering the looting of the noble realm of Pavona. Such was Duke Guidobaldo’s sorrow that he would most surely have cried, had he any tears left after weeping so much for the loss of his son and heir.

Yet there is joy to be had, nevertheless. For the Duke has taken your call to crusade to heart, being much pleased that you thought to send me as an ambassador to deliver your words rather than a mere letter as has been dispatched to all other princes and rulers.  He even went so far as to explain to me that his war against Trantio was not merely done in a spirit of vengeance for the evil crimes committed by the debased mercenaries in Prince Girenzo's pay, but that first and foremost Duke Guidobaldo had always had in mind the need to prepare Tilea to defend itself against the undead threat. By taking Trantio he has consolidated his power, much increased his revenue, and will thus now be able to raise even more soldiers for the real war to come. Furthermore, he has tested his soldiers in battle, therefore forging a force of experienced, loyal and battle hardened veterans who will neither flinch from the foe nor fail to do what must be done to save Tilea. And most of all he has removed the weakness that was Prince Girenzo's rule, a state which relied far too much on mercenaries to conduct its wars and perform its defence, and as such a state that would have been easily toppled by the vampires of the north giving them a foothold in central Tilea from which to threaten all the realms around.

And so it is plain that the capture of Trantio by Duke Guidobaldo much strengthens our holy cause. The Duke intends the battle for central Tilea to take place at Trantio, so that neither Remas nor Pavona nor any of the realms to the south need be corrupted by the presence of the walking dead. It may seem cruel to some that he has presumed this fate for the people of state of Trantio, but their previous lord was a weak and wicked tyrant, who would have brought this same ruin, and more, upon his subjects with no subsequent gain for the rest of Tilea. This is not to say that the Duke intends the city of Trantio itself to fall to the foe, rather that his armies will be mustered here to fight in the lands around, and that this city, made holy in its purpose, will be the bastion against which the wicked legions will be broken and scattered.

The good news continues, for it pleases me much to tell you that the Morrite Lector of Trantio, Silvestro Maruffi, who was one of the principal advisers urging Prince Girenzo on in his wrongful war against Pavona, whispering lies to him and offering misguided council merely to inflate his own importance, perished in the conquest of the city, killed by vengeful people of Trantio who took the opportunity to right some of the wrongs done to them by the tryant and his advisers even as their city fell around them. Yet fear not, for all is well for the church of Morr in Trantio: Duke Guidobaldo has offered me the post of Lector, and indeed already has ordered the building of a new grand palace much better suited to the holy office I am to perform than the previous building (badly damaged during the aforementioned riots). Obviously, the position is subject to your confirmation, but the Duke wants me and me alone, as it is I who have done him the honour of bringing his call to crusade, and he believes that by having me serving here I will act as his conscience and good guide, ensuring that he always serves the cause of the church in the most perfect way possible.

Such is the happiness engendered by this victory against the tyrant prince, as well as my own rise in fortune, that the soldiers you ordered to accompany me, the mercenary elven horse, begged to remain my guard and to serve myself and Duke Guidobaldo here in Trantio where they might be amongst the very vanguard of the crusading forces being mustered. At first, Duke Guidobaldo was quite deaf to their pleading, for he expects complete loyalty in soldiers, whatever sort they might be, and told them that they were obliged to serve only you, for reasons of a financial, legal and moral nature. But I myself was pleased to devise a happy solution that would suit all parties concerned, and the Duke agreed. So it is that the Duke is to send to you, in the wake of this letter (but traveling slower as it is under guard) the full cost you paid for the service of the elven horse company, as well as more gold besides, so that you are amply compensated for their loss with funds that will allow you to raise not only replacements, but even more soldiers for the holy cause of crusade.

Praise be to the great god Morr, and all honour and respect be given you, Morr's highest servant in the mortal realm. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Big Boys
A river in the northern part of Tilea

It had been a long and lonely journey for Fazzio. Not that he was on his own – he had the young herald Vittore for company. If you could call him company, that is. Vittore was quiet to the point of rudeness, quite strangely so, and Fazzio had so far been unable to fathom exactly why.

The lad had a tongue, but beyond the occasional (and long delayed) yes or no, he did not use it for much beyond the licking of his lips. As the days went by Fazzio played out in his mind every possible reason for his companion’s silence: Could it be his youth, or simply nervousness, arising from the same? He may well have been ordered to keep silent, and was determined to quite literally be so. Perhaps, he mused, it was some affliction, or even a curse conjured by some ancient crone? In the end Fazzio decided it was likely a consequence of fear, or a madness born of that fear. As they came further away from the safety of Remas, the lad’s eyes grew wider and more staring, until they were fixed that way during every waking hour. And he slept so fitfully one might think he was dancing a jig in each and every dream.

One thing no-one could fault Vittore on was his attention to his duty. He was fastidious to the point of obsession about the care of the golden topped ensign he carried. The flag bore the crossed keys of the Arch-Lector of Morr and Vittore treated it as if it were as precious as a holy relic. Fazzio knew full well the etiquette involved in honouring a company’s colours, and the care with which they should be defended in battle – certainly by soldiers who wished to retain their reputation. His own company, being part of the Arch-Lector's palace guard, played many a fancy game passing the colours back and forth whenever the guard was changed. But Vittore took his care of the pretty, silken cloth to new levels. He folded it meticulously every night, in a carefully considered manner so that no crease would be in the same place as the previous night, thus ensuring no single part of its delicate fabric would be troubled with a sharp bend two nights in a row. As he rode he held it by his side exactly perpendicular to the ground, and had several ways, each performed with practised precision, in which to furl it, either fully or partially, whether mounted or on foot.

None of which would have particularly troubled Fazzio were it not for the fact that Vittore treated his cross-key emblazoned tabard in like manner, and even fiddled just as ludicrously with the little silken pennant hanging from his brass horn. It was as if his body had become the altar of some high church upon which was draped the ornate and holy images of the gods. Their departure had been delayed every morning by Fazzio’s need to get each and every part of his accoutrements and paraphernalia in its proper place, and they would stop every mile or so for some adjustment to this or a straightening of that.

Now as they approached the river’s edge, and caught sight of the soldiers who had already crossed, Fazzio was actually surprised to see that Vittore was capable of a further degree of stiffness beyond any he had adopted before. The flag was unfurled to flutter perfectly in the breeze, and Vittore lifted the brass horn to his puckered lips to begin a long, loud and yet (as it could only ever have been) perfect musical flourish.

Fazzio tried to ignore the somewhat bizarrely neat combination of herald, page, trumpeter and ensign exhibiting both visually and audibly by his side, and looked instead at the force they had come here to meet.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_6_zps8f2fbbf1.jpg)

It was not what he had expected. Perhaps he should have done, for they did hail from Campogrotta, and everyone had heard the stories about the immortal Wizard Lord Bentiglovio and his monstrous army of brutes led by the all-conquering tyrant-general Razger Boulderguts. Yet he had never thought that Razger’s ogres would actually join the crusade. Throughout the journey he had supposed the force they were travelling to escort to Remas would consist of men not only here for the holy cause, but also to escape the tyrannical regime of their homeland. 

There were men in the force - almost all archers by the looks of them. Perhaps every noble and gentleman in both Campogrotta and Ravola had been killed, and these ragged, peasant soldiers were all that was left? But it was the ogres who drew his eyes. Both men and ogres were still in the process of crossing the river, which was no surprise as apparently they only had two boats. In fact most of them were still waiting on the far bank where they built a ramshackle camp of earthen huts for the men and rolled boulders covered with felled trees and skins for the ogres.

Only a handfulwere on this side of the river. One boat had apparently already landed a little cart and a mule, while the other was approaching the shore. It was not being rowed, however, instead a particularly burly brute of a grey skinned ogre was hauling it over the murky waters with a dripping wet rope, while the boat’s occupants just stood idly upon it as if it were quite normal to have a heavily armed ogre drag you along for a ride. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_8_zpsd61e0afe.jpg)

Fazzio saw one of the ogres was lugging a cannon barrel – a huge thing of iron that would surely crush a man instantly. He was wondering whether the gun carriage had yet to be brought across, and even began to look for it, when it suddenly dawned on him there was no such thing. The ogre was hefting the iron piece as of it were nothing more than a large handgun, and when Fazzio noticed the brute was missing an eye on the very same side that he now held the piece, it all became very clear. The ogre had actually fired it whilst holding it!

That must be some sight to see, he mused. I wonder what the living dead will do when faced with such weapons? Fall to pieces, I hope.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Report Parts 2 and maybe 3 to follow as soon as possible.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on September 12, 2014, 09:39:13 PM
Great scenes and scenery.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 12, 2014, 09:57:58 PM
Yeah, I liked the way the scenes came out. But ... is the writing any good? Or is my (deliberately slightly archaic) style annoying?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on September 12, 2014, 10:06:59 PM
Don't worry: the writing matches the scenes & scenery.  :icon_wink:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 12, 2014, 10:14:30 PM
Don't worry: the writing matches the scenes & scenery.  :icon_wink:

It ought to match, because I make the pictures based a general impression of some event or area I have to write about, and then write the piece based on the pictures. It is so much easier that way. I think I would find it impossible to write a piece and then create images for it.

I hope my players will either laugh or fume at the audacity of the priest-ambassador's letter to the Arch-Lector!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on September 17, 2014, 12:54:22 PM
Hurry up!!!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 17, 2014, 01:34:58 PM
Yeah, RL is a buXXer! Photos are done for parts 2 and 3, writing still incomplete for part 2. Will try to do it tonight (I deserve a night of fun.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 18, 2014, 10:52:03 AM
End of Season 4 (Winter 2401-2) General Report Part Two

All That I Could Learn

A Letter to Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

My most noble lord, I pray to all the lawful gods that you are blessed with good health and prosperity, and that you will welcome this dispatch as a truthful insight into events to the west of your realm. Knowing full well how you wished for improved intelligence concerning the Arabyan mercenaries encamped at Luccini, I took it upon myself to travel there in the early months of winter and found a city well prepared for war. Yet it is a war unlikely to come. In preparation to fight Khurnag’s Mighty Waagh!, King Ferronso increased the fighting strength of his forces considerably, not least by purchasing the Southlandish ‘Sons of the Desert’ – an entire army of mercenaries, foot and horse, handgunners and spears. Now it is reported that the Waagh has been broken and scattered by the Marienburger mercenaries currently occupying Alcente, leaving the young King of Luccini at a loss how to play with his soldiers. If the city of Luccini were further to the north and thus closer to the terrors there, then certainly the boy king would not feel bereft of enemies, but as the city lies so far to the south, with the great states of Remas and Portomaggiore lying betwixt it and the undead, then that particular fear has yet to take a deep root in the young king’s mind.

So it is that Luccini now finds itself playing host to an expensive army of Arabyans it could well do without. Of course, King Ferronso cannot risk refusing their pay, for the consequences could be ruinous. Such men would not hesitate to extract by cruel force all that they were owed, and more besides, tearing the city apart in the process. As the boy king’s own militia forces are greatly outnumbered by these mercenaries, then he could not hope to use them to restore order. In the dark hours of night, when many Luccinans are red faced and reeling in the flickering light of the tavern fires, it is a common joke that soon there will be a Caliphate here in Tilea, just like in ancient times, and that all native born inhabitants will become little more than slaves to their new masters.

And so the mercenaries do what such men enjoy most – swaggering through the streets, heavily armed, terrifying children and maids, happily satisfied that they need not fight in the morrow, nor indeed for some time to come. The mercenaries’ general, Gedik Mamidous, is apparently in no rush to leave, and he rules an entire quarter of the city as if he is chief magistrate and mayor. I myself witnessed him holding court, surrounded by desert warriors in serried ranks, sheltered from the spattering raindrops by a silken parasol.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_18_zpsefd0d9d2.jpg)

Merchants and traders vied for his attention, for there is profit to be made in the supplying of such well paid mercenaries’ wants. These are not only Tilean merchants, however, but ever more of his own countrymen, who have no doubt found it much easier than previously to trade with Luccini, now that an entire army of Arabyans are quartered there.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_19_zps1db2d4e0.jpg)

I cannot say for certain, as such men as these have no reason to converse with the likes of me, and I have not a word of their strange tongue, but it seems to me that a general as experienced as Mamidous would not sit idly as time passed, knowing that when the terms of his contract end the Luccinans will try every way possible to cease paying him. Perhaps he is already considering how to extract more money from them at that time, in return for their continued protection (no longer against greenskins but against his own soldiers)? Or perhaps he is already involved in negotiations with another Tilean state, or even a more distant realm, in order to acquire a new contract? It must be considered possible, however, especially in light of the rather more significant threat to the north, that whatever his current dealings, Mamidous intends at the first hint of real trouble, to return whence he came.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_20_zpsb04bb8af.jpg)

Unwilling to tarry where I could learn little else, I made arrangements to journey to the city of Remas by way of the sea. Being well travelled I know better than to put much stock in mariners’ tales, yet upon several occasions I heard the sailors talk of worrying sightings at sea. I made a point of questioning as many as possible and came to the conclusion that it is more likely than not that there is truth in what they said. They have espied with their own eyes, and on more than one occasion, ratto uomo slave galleys, of massive size and usually in groups of no less than half a dozen. These sightings occurred upon the Tilean Sea, and even close to the coast. No one claimed to have been attacked, but several muttered about ships going missing and glimpses of scuttling spies sneaking about in the docks. As to whether these events are due to another civil war amongst the ratmen, or preparations for some other enterprise, I know not, nor was there any reason to suspect anything in particular. Nevertheless it seems to me that you ought to be informed.

Upon arrival in Remas I was surprised to discover no sign of the legions of crusaders I had expected. In truth, however, I think it unlikely that any who do intend to respond to the arch lector’s call can have both mustered together and completed the journey in the short time available. As for the Remans, if I may venture my own humble analogy, it seems to me that they are like actors before a play begins. Many speak of those who are coming, alive and undead, as if they are the heroes and villains who shall take to the stage. They are much busied with fashioning the stage for the drama, repairing the city’s ancient defences and practicing their military drill and postures from the earliest hour of daylight. Martial law reigns in the streets, which swarm with the provost’s officers and common informers, in readiness perhaps for the rowdy crowds of crusaders who will surely come to play their parts. Furthermore - as you so wisely suggested to me before my departure - it is indeed the case that the arch lector of the Church of Morr once again rules supreme in the city, wholly governing matters military, civil and spiritual. He has become director of all.

Perhaps as a consequence more of the arch lector’s return to full power than the great emergency, there are changes afoot. Remas’ famous army of foreign mercenaries is no longer so purely alien. A new artillery company has been raised, and a baggage guard, both of whom consist entirely of Reman subjects, wearing the traditional orange and blue livery of the arch lector. They are listed merely as new companies of the palace guard, but it is plain to all that they are more suited in strength to support a large army in the field than stand duty at gates and doors.

I was intrigued to learn that in response to the great emergency the renowned artist Angelo da Leoni had laid down his brushes and turned his famous intelligence to the matter of engines of war once again, as he did in his more youthful years. Eager to see exactly what he was working on, I made my way to his workshop where I unsurprisingly discovered that already the great inventor’s efforts were being sponsored by the arch lector: palace guardsmen guarded the workshop and yard in which da Leoni laboured.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_23_zps3ea31c16.jpg)

Not that the guards were particularly keen to keep the maestro’s work secret, rather to ensure simply that he could go about it undisturbed. In fact, they were happy that those who came might look through the open gates to see the efforts being made, and indeed the city’s streets are already rife with gossip about the deadly engine and how exactly it would help defeat the foe. Such news helps raise the people’s spirits, and no doubt the arch lector intended from the start that it should do so. I myself cannot claim to have the mechanical understanding to guess at the workings of the machine, so I will simply explain what I saw.

The maestro himself was present when I visited, book in hand as he gave instructions to the craftsmen labouring upon his creation. He is a stout, stern looking fellow in his old age, no longer anything like the youthful figure shown in the self-portrait in your lordship’s palace. He too, like most of the workers in the yard, wore the arch-lector’s livery, as well as a chain of office which I later learned signified his rank as general of artillery.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_24_zps9c78a8ee.jpg)

The machine itself had a heart of iron, enclosed in a growing case of timber. Massive wheels lay strewn about the yard, presumably yet to be attached, although some wheels where of solid iron and like unto those contained within the workings of a clock, though upon a much larger scale. I saw no sign of armament, neither artillery pieces nor rams nor even a platform upon which fighting men might be carried, and although it is probable such things will be added later, I would not care to suggest that they most definitely will. For all I know, some sort of flail is to be fashioned, or perhaps great scything blades, like those described in the stories of goblin pump wagons, so that it can cut a swathe of destruction through the enemy’s ranks and files. Certainly the people of Remas seem happy to make any and all of these suggestions.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_22_zps1b734bff.jpg)

My eyes lingered upon what I presumed to be the driving part of this machine. It consists of a great, iron kettle, shaped somewhat like a large barrel, out of which sprout arms, wheels and stove-like extensions. I saw no tiller, nor any obvious harness for a team of horses, but instead what I supposed was a form of steering wheel. It seemed to me that the whole was some time from completion, although I cannot say whether more work is being done elsewhere, behind closed doors, so that like a firearm is composed of the joining of barrel, stock and lock, perhaps several parts will come together quite quickly to complete this machine.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_21_zps81f964dc.jpg)

Every day the arch lector receives emissaries from foreign states, some to show their support for the great crusade, some merely to make promises concerning the same, but most to beg for aid against the foe. A large delegation of Urbinans plead daily and openly for forces to defend them now that the foe’s foul dominion borders their home. The city also plays host to the celebrated heroes of the Viadazan crusade, who at such great a cost felled the vampire duke and drove back his army to buy time for the rest of Tilea. General D’Alessio has declared himself entirely willing to lead the new crusaders to victory, while the lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini, is hosted by the arch lector and is daily in conference with him concerning how best to thwart the foe.

I shall remain here in Remas into the spring, all the better to observe how the great crusade fares, and I will, at every opportunity, send letters to you concerning developments.

I remain you most loyal and obedient servant.

Antonio Mugello
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on September 18, 2014, 12:29:33 PM
Ha! Superb
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on September 18, 2014, 02:13:55 PM
Tops, as ever.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: damo_b on September 18, 2014, 07:32:13 PM
Nice work
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 24, 2014, 07:46:40 PM
End of Season 4 (Winter 2401-2) General Report Part Three

Gladius Morri super terram cito et velociter (The sword of Morr, striking and swift)
A square in Trantio   

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_12_zps94971d88.jpg)

“What have you got there then?” bellowed Giovacchino as he swaggered unsteadily from the alley into the square, still clutching the wine jug responsible for his current inebriation. His words boomed around the little square, where four more Pavonan soldiers stood around the kneeling and pathetically hunched form of a man in the livery of the Compagnia del Sole. Several Trantian bystanders watched from under the jettying beams of the square’s main attraction – an alehouse - as Giovacchino strode up to join his comrades. His stockings hung loose upon his calves while his hat tottered heavily and at such an angle it was a wonder it was still attached.

“Got yourselves a prisoner, eh?” he asked. “Big deal. You should have gone down there with me for richer pickings. What I have here is worth its weight in silver.” He jangled the clattering contents of his sack to prove his point. “Because …" he paused momentarily for effect "... it is silver! What you’ve got is worth only its weight in dirt.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_14_zps988927c3.jpg)

A whimpering sound came from the prisoner, expressing either fear or helplessness or a potent combination of the two. Giovacchino smiled in a self-satisfied manner, rolling his eyes mockingly, too drunk either to care how annoying he would appear.

“Shut it, Chino,” said Mariano, his own slurred voice sounding no less drunk. “He ain’t told us all we need to know yet. We don’t want you upsetting him all unnecessary.”

“Why?” said Giovacchino loudly. “What you after? Is it good stuff? Does he know where there’s more?”

“We can find that out later,” said Aldus – sombre and sober despite having drunk as much, if not more, than the two much louder soldiers. Although quiet, he was the sort of man who was always heard.  His stern face suited him – for he did bloody work in battle (a soldier’s soldier was what many called him) and always seemed to have his wits about him whether fighting or drinking. His present sobriety was all the more impressive considering the blood he had lost from the head wound received during the assault upon Trantio. The other soldiers were all now looking at him.

“Right now,” he said …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_16_zps8de1be37.jpg)

… “he needs to tell us if any more of his friends are hiding here.”

“It don’t look to me,” said Giovacchino, “like he’s in a conversational frame of mind.

“I can make him talk,” offered Carlo, prodding the squatting captive’s head with the muzzle of the handgun he had kept trained on him ever since they found him. “And if he doesn’t talk, then I can shoot him to teach his friends what happens when they don’t cooperate.”

The whimper was heard again, no different from the last time. Mariano raised his hand abruptly, spilling wine from the goblet he had forgotten he was holding in it. It was perhaps intended as a gesture to silence the others, but instead looked more like he was about to make a toast. He addressed the cowering man, “We’re not going to have to shoot you, though, are we? Because you’re going to tell us where your friends are.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_15_zps5a56f5e8.jpg)

“They’ll be coming out either way,” added Carlo, “whether you’re alive or not. For you, its better they come out now.”

This time the whimper had words wound into it. “Just me … There’s just me.”

Then a woman’s voice was heard, and everyone turned in surprise - more wine being spilled as a consequence. It was a serving wench who had been watching from the start, and who had, until the captive was discovered, been busy fetching Mariano’s wine. “It’s true. He’s on his own. Him and two others were hiding in the old cellar, maybe since the fall. We didn’t know anyone was there until last night, when his friends ran out. My master told the watch, who went to tell whoever the watch tell. They’d been a-drinking down there, drowning their sorrows on foul beer too long in the cask. He got left behind and we only found him this morning. Don’t think he could get up the ladder.”

“If that’s so, then he’s no use to us,” declared Carlo. He blew upon the burning coals at the end of his slow-match and opened his pan. “May as well …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_17_zps62c149ae.jpg)

“Wait!” Aldus snapped. “You’re not shooting him. He’s not our enemy. Not any more.”

Carlo snorted cruelly. “Why? Just because he’s cowering there unarmed and afraid? You know what the Compagnia del Sole have done – you’ve got a wound to make sure you never forget. I never thought you such a compassionate soul, Aldus!”

Aldus showed no sign of offence at Carlo’s words, speaking with only his usual seriousness, and the ever present hint of potential threat. “Because the Duke has offered employment to the last of the Compagnia del Sole. Now that his realm has swelled to such a great size he needs soldiers   . And that …” he gestured towards the prone captive, “... despite appearances, is a soldier.”

Mariano snorted a laugh. “Of a sort. I say kill him. Haven’t you heard what his kind have done? How they killed a priest to rob him of his beads and robes, the better to disguise themselves?”

“I heard,” said Carlo gravely. “We are the army of Morr the supreme. We have won victory after victory in his name, being both favoured and blessed and obviously so. While this man’s fellows, defeated in battle by Morr’s own will, chose to deny his judgement and kill Morr’s priests in petty revenge.”

Giovacchino, having drained the last drop of wine from his jug, wiped the back of his hand across his lips and frowned. “What in Morr’s name are you talking about? What priest?”

“The arch-lector didn’t just send a priest to Duke Guidobaldo to beg him to end the war against Trantio because of the vampires in the north,” said Mariano, “but sent another to ask the same of the tyrant Prince Girenzo. The second priest arrived a bit late, though, didn’t he? What with Prince Girenzo being dead. Still, can’t complain as it was a happy ending after all, the war being ended already.”

“So what did the second priest do?” asked Giavacchino, growing frustrated.

Mariano rolled his eyes. “You don’t listen do you, Chino? I already told you – he got himself killed on his way back to Remas by Compagnia scum like him. Brave men, eh? Killing a priest and his servants with no soldiers to guard them. Still, they got their comeuppance, ‘cos some of our boys found them prancing about in priestly robes and killed every one of them. True judgement and justice, I say. Swift and summary too.”

Carlo nodded. “By Morr’s justice it was done, for we are his hand. Well, it so happens Morr is holding a handgun right now.” Once again he blew on the coals to clear the ash and make the saltpetred match fizzle with heat.

“Give rest to your piece,” ordered Aldus, who as corporal had every right to so command. “We serve Duke Guidobaldo first, while his grace answers to Morr. We’re the Duke’s soldiers, not his magistrates. And if you like then yes, we’re Morr’s holy warriors too. Doesn’t make us his inquisitors, though. Tell your stories round the camp fires as you wish, and believe them too for all I care. But never forget that we are sworn to obey, and that’s what we will do. Now, pick him up, tie his hands, and let’s go.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_13_zps24da7b0d.jpg)
-----------------------------------------------------------

Il reggimento e il governo della citta di Trantio (The rule and government of the city of Trantio)

A Proclamation to be Read to all those who Dwell in the Villages of Preto and the Town of Scorccio
By Order of His Grace Duke Guidobaldo, Ruler of Pavona, Trantio, Astiano, Most Obedient Servant of Morr the Supreme


I rule here in Trantio by right of conquest. The city is mine. The palace is mine. I command all forces remaining in the realm, and all officers bow to me and obey my commands and mine alone. You have thus become my subjects, just as you were subjects of the tyrant I have defeated. Fear me in the way all lesser folk should respect their master, but do not be fearful, for I would have you know that you will be kept safe from the threat in the north under my rule, as long as you obey my laws and my commands. I can and will defend this my realm from all outside evil.

If, however, you resist, deny or in any way hinder or refuse even part of my lawful, rightful and hopeful authority, then I shall burn unto the ground your homes and fields, and leave you starving and homeless to face the evils that this way come. Alone and weak, helpless before the foe, you will surely perish at their hands. And this will be right and just, for you will have the mark of traitors upon you, and furthermore you will have refused the protection of the supreme god Morr.

Be not sad, however, nor let angry pride rule your hearts, for all this is only temporary. Indeed, rejoice, for my rule is only a brief necessity. By my own son’s sacrifice the tyrant Prince Girenzo is defeated and slain, and to honour my son’s memory, as well as the fair traditions of the realm of Trantio, I intend to settle the rule of law upon this realm, and then promise to revive the glorious republic of old. It is not the way of things in my own realm of Trantio, for there I rule by my noble blood and hereditary right, but here in Trantio I accept the precedent of history and thus the right of Trantians to govern themselves, to debate in their committees, to vote in the councils, and so to create their own laws and decide their own fate.

Yet this cannot be done immediately. First the corruption of the tyrant prince must be washed from Trantio, then once this is achieved, I shall leave the reins of power in the hands of a lawfully elected council. Furthermore, I shall ease the transition by having my own surviving son, Lord Silvano, serve as first Gonfaloniere of Trantio, to chair the ruling council and command the realm’s military forces. This may seem to go against historical precedent, for the office of gonfaloniere has usually been an elected one, but it is intended as simply a temporary means to ensure the safe transfer of power and steady establishment of a new republic, as well as my continued support and alliance until all is well again in Tilea and Trantio. The realm of Trantio must be defended against the terrible forces marching from the north, and what better and more certain way is there to do so than to forge a strong, even unbreakable, alliance between the realm of Trantio and Pavona, by having the love of father and son bond the two together.

So it is that I have the welfare of Trantio wholly in mind. Woe betide any and all who think to thwart these my plans, to stir rebellion, or fail to do all they can to support the cause of Trantio’s defence, for any who do will feel the full weight of my wrath.

Furthermore I have taken steps to ensure the care of your souls, elevating the priest Father Erkhart to the clerical office of Lector of Viadaza, so that all within the Viadazan diocese can rest assured that the church will be in safe and holy hands whilst facing the direct threat of the necromancy of vampires.

These things are being done in the name of the mighty and supreme god of gods, Morr. Praise him, thank him, and obey his servants as they work to make Tilea blessed in his eyes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Beating of Solemn Drums
The western spur of the Trantine Hills

Lord Polcario Gondi, heir to the Duchy of Pavona, was dead. He died a hero, in single combat against no less a foe than a prince, who he slew even as he himself was slain, thereby gaining the final victory for Pavona in its war of vengeance against Trantio.

Duke Guidobaldo ordered that his son would not be buried in Trantio, but in the Gondi tomb in Pavona. Considering the rise of the undead in the north, great care was taken to ensure not only that Lord Polcario’s body was carried thence with dignity, but was guarded well, to prevent any attempt by the agents of vampires to steal it and use it for their own foul purposes. The column included several ensigns, each from regiments once commanded by the young lord. Eight drummers marched too, four before the coffin and four behind, beating a funerary march most sombre and solemn, while a single flute added a plaintive bird-song sound of singularly sad beauty.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_9_zps5d58ed59.jpg)

The carriage upon which the coffin was lain was decorated with the blue and white of Pavona, and so too were the draught horses pulling it. Eight of the best halberdiers Pavona had to offer marched at its sides, while Lord Polcario’s own personal standard followed behind - unlike in life when it would go before him - sloped in the traditional manner of mourning.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_11_zps755c0011.jpg)

Slowly but surely, the creaking of the wheels conjoined with the sorrowful sound of drums and flute, the little convoy made its way south towards the Via Aurelia, upon which Lord Polcario would travel the last stretch of this his final journey through the realm of Tilea.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndSeason4_10_zps5f0bc15d.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on September 26, 2014, 09:40:29 PM
I must get those Artizan looters. The shotte also Artizan?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 27, 2014, 12:34:29 AM
Sorry Doowop, don't know. Had long assumed both were Wargames Foundry. I just bought 'em at some convention somewhere - can'r recall what brandname was on the packet.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Il Condottiero on September 27, 2014, 01:48:23 PM
Superb, Padre!

Narrative is something that embodies all miniature wargaming for me - Warhammer specially so. Love reading your 'illustrated tales'. Those houses - are they Conflux? They look great with your miniatures about. I should acquire some ;) I struggle on taking the pictures myself, but perhaps soon :)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 21, 2014, 07:28:53 PM
Yes, Il Condottierio, they are Conflix. I've had them a while and they are lovely. I wish they did a wider variety. [edit] I now, two years later, have more conflix buildings - they do do a wider variety!

The Reman Town of Stiani

Baccio had been watching the door to the other room for a while now, awaiting his friend's return. This was not his customary habit - usually he would get on with drinking without a care for how long his friend was absent. But, considering their current situation there was a genuine chance his friend would not return, and that would leave Baccio entirely alone in the world. At first he had listened to the inn’s landlord talking loudly with some local fellow - exactly as Ottaviano had suggested he did. Then when they shut up, he had brooded in silence, eyes fixed upon said door. Relief flooded through him when, at last, Ottaviano burst through it to take his place back at the table.

“Not good,” said Ottaviano. He gestured to the little company of men he had left feasting in the next room. “They are Verezzan merchants, and they are returning from Trantio.”

“Well, that’s what we wanted,” interrupted Baccio. “News from Trantio. Or were they tight lipped?”

“Oh they talked alright. What I mean is that they didn’t have anything good to say. So far we’ve been at best defeated soldiers, and at worst cowardly mercenaries. But now we’re apparently murderers too.”

“Why? We were paid to fight and we fought, against the odds. That should stand us in good stead.”

“The story they told me happened after the battles and the fall of Trantio. Some of our lads, it seems, have killed a Morrite priest. And not some lowly father, either, but an emissary of the arch-lector himself, carrying a message for the dead prince.”

“Why carry a message for a dead prince?” asked Baccio, confused. Then his faced took on a look of horror. “You mean … Girenzo is a vampire?”

Ottaviano shook his head. “No, of course not. The message was sent when Girenzo was alive. It just didn’t get to him in time.”

“Oh,” said Baccio, sounding reassured. “Still, it don’t sound right. Why would any of our lads kill a priest? Especially a Reman one, when Remas is one of the few places we can go?”

Ottaviano shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. And no-one will ever know, because the lads in question were caught and killed by the Duke’s men. No trial, no questions. Dead.”

“Well that last part doesn’t surprise me. The Pavonans are killing everyone who fought against them, no mercy given.”

“They were,” corrected Ottaviano, “but not now. The merchants said that Bucci’s crossbow company have been offered a Pavonan contract to remain as part of the garrison. ‘Needs must’, it seems. Now that his newly enlarged empire happens to sit so close to the undead, Duke Guidobaldo needs all the soldiers he can get, even ex-Compagnia men.”

“Well, that’ll be it then. The Duke wouldn’t want to anger the arch-lector, not when everyone needs to stand together against the vampires – and so he had the priest killers executed.”

“Except the story doesn’t make sense. You yourself said so. Why would any Compagnia lads do it?”

Baccio frowned, then sighed. “Maybe they didn’t know?” he suggested. “Maybe the priest was in disguise? Maybe the priest threatened to reveal them to the Pavonans?”

“Could be any of those reasons, and more besides. Whatever, it doesn’t help those of us still on the run. No-one likes priest killers, especially when Tilea needs all the holy men of Morr it can get.”

“So,” said Baccio, “we don’t tell anyone who we are … or, I mean, who we were. It’s worked well so far.”

The two of them had indeed found it remarkably easy to gain free passage, by the simple expedient of telling any who asked that they were off to join the arch-lector’s crusade. People did not then merely let them pass, but fussed to find them provisions and beds, and see them on the right path. ‘All roads lead to Remas’, was the saying. Right now, it was true.

They ordered another jug of wine, more bread and cheese, then ate silently for some time. They were hungry. It was Baccio who finally piped up.

“What else did they say about Trantio?”

Ottavio talked in between stuffing chunks of bread in his mouth. “Martial law … bad for trade. Duke Guidobaldo’s men setting all the prices … The army’s still in the city, not sacking the place, but eating everyone out of house and home.” He drank a deep draught of wine. “And the Duke’s got elves in his service now. Riders on white horses. He might not like dwarfs, but he doesn’t seem to have a problem with elves. Maybe it’s beards he doesn’t like?”

“I heard the arch-lector will excommunicate him for continuing the war.”

“I don’t think that’s way the duke sees things. He calls himself Morr’s ‘most obedient’ servant, and claims all he has done was so he can better defeat the undead.”

“You said as much in summer, didn’t you?” mused Baccio. “How he would be the hero when the time came.”

“I did. I just didn’t expect it all to work out so well for him.”

“Apart from the death of his son.”

“Aye, apart from that,” agreed Ottaviano. “Although he’s apparently not one for grieving. The merchants said his son’s corpse, still warm, was packed off to Pavona in a cart while he ordered his other son to come and serve in his place. He’s going to give the city to the lad – a mere boy!”

“In name he might. But in truth he’ll be ruling.”

“He will,” agreed Ottaviano. “I think the man wants to rule all Tilea. I think he wants to be a king – they’re even calling the war the ‘War of the Princes’. But I counted only one real prince.”

“Dukes, princes, lords – they’re all much of a muchness to me. And arch-lectors too.” Baccio snorted, then looked his friend in the eye. “Are we really going to join this crusade?”

“Well, we are going to Remas, even if it’s just to make sure we don’t end up in Pavonan hands. Let’s see what happens when we get there, eh? Might be preferable to spend a while labouring on defences or such like, for that way no one might suppose us to be mercenaries and wonder where we came from.”

“They won’t care if we were Compagnia men, surely?”

“No,” said Ottaviano, “I doubt they will. Could be the opposite – they might like us all the more for being soldiers. Remans like mercenaries. Their army is made of mercenaries, by law.”

Baccio raised his hand to hush his friend, a smug look of cleverness coming over him. “It was, but no longer. Now they say – well the landlord said to one of his neighbours before you came back – the arch-lector is raising Remans to serve him as citizen soldiers. Maybe he wants to emulate Duke Guidobaldo’s successes with his Pavonan fanatics?”

Ottaviano gave a fake laugh. “The arch-lector just wants soldiers, and all he can get. He’s already threatened to excommunicate everyone who in any way hinders the crusade, and now he’s even asked the wizard lord of Campogrotta to send his Ogres. The arch-lector means business. This crusade is going to be big.”

“That lad in Palomtrina said elves from Tettoverde forest were joining the crusade,” added Baccio.

Ottaviano laughed loudly. “That lad in Palomtrina told us that painted Skaven were swarming on the western coast, and that flying arabyans had captured Luccini while the young prince, who was actually a girl, cried. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what he said.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not so sure the crusade is going to be so big. They say the arch-lector won’t send help to Urbimo.”

“What?” asked Ottaviano. “Why?”

“That’s what the landlord’s neighbour was complaining about. Apparently he has family there and the arch-lector has sent no help. The man said his holiness is only really concerned about Remas’ safety, not that of Tilea. Calictus hasn’t even recognised the hero of Pontremola, neither rewarded him, honoured him nor invited him to attend him, because that would mean acknowledging the Viadazan crusaders were forced to fight alone, and lose their city in so doing. ”

Ottaviano rolled his eyes. “Nonsense. That’s all mere gossip and tittle tattle. If the arch-lector was so embarrassed by the fall of Viadaza, why has he lodged its exiled lector in his palace? And only a fool would think he could defend Remas while all the rest of Tilea fell to the undead.”

Baccio grinned. “So, the landlord’s neighbour is an idiot.”

Ottaviano smiled too. “Oh, yes. I see. It is good to know what people are saying.”

“Did you ask the Verezzans about Raverno? Their city is close by. They should know what’s going on there.”

“I did and they do,” said Ottaviano. The two of them had talked previously about going south not west, maybe to Verezzo, or maybe Raverno. As there was no love lost between Pavona and Verezzo, however, this meant it could well be Duke Guidobaldo’s next conquest in his desire to forge a mighty empire. Neither men were keen on fighting the Pavonans again so soon, which left Raverno looking like the best choice.

“There’s trouble of a different kind there,” Ottaviano continued. “Since Khurnag’s Waagh was defeated, the VMC northerners in Alcente have begun throwing their weight around, just like general Fortebraccio said they would. A VMC army has already held Raverno to ransom, claiming they were exacting revenge for the ‘defenestration of Raverno’ – gods know what that is. Apparently, they’ve burnt the settlements at Camponeffro south of the city, and extracted a large sum of gold from the terrified Ravernans. I doubt they’ll stop at that, nor honour whatever terms were agreed. The merchants said the VMC were little better than armed robbers, who call their threats ‘haggling’ and their plunder ‘profits’.”

Baccio shrugged his shoulders. “That sort of trouble could be good for us, maybe we should go there? It could mean work.”

“You’re still thinking like we’re part of the marching Compagnia. It’s just me and you now. I don’t want to go where we might find ourselves on the losing side, and with no friends left.”

“How is going to Remas better then? Fighting the undead is going to be one hell of a bad war. Wouldn’t you rather be paid to fight in a war between merchants rather than between the living and the dead? Maybe we should go to Estalia and join Captain Mazallini? They still call themselves Compagnia del Sole, despite taking a separate contract. I reckon they’d take us on gladly. I know the captain well, and I didn’t join in any of the nastiness when he left.”

“I don’t know,” said Ottaviano. “What if the seas are swarming with Skaven? Maybe its best we join the crusade? Be more than mercenaries for once? Fight for more than money? We’ve never been anything else and look where it’s got us. If the undead defeat the crusade while we’re burning crops in Alcente, all we’ll have done is bought ourselves a little more time before they get to us. I am not talking about duty, but common sense. Fight so that everyone might live, or die with them because not enough men fought? They might be the only real options left.”

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: jchaos79 on November 17, 2014, 09:06:10 PM
Hi Padre,

I am lurker of Tilean campaing. I would like to congrat. you and your players for the great history and good battles you are doing. Looking forward to see more material.

Also you have a cracking painting style.

All of this is inspiring me a lot, thanks for sharing!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 18, 2015, 10:59:03 AM
(Thanks jchaos, nice of you to say. Been a bit of an RL induced lull, but now I am back on  with the campaign in all its forms - modelling, painting, processing orders and communications, photos and ... stories: )

Fleshmeat

The gnoblars emerged from the trees, scuttling over the rocks in their usual higgledy piggledy manner. Habbdok did not bother to count them as he could see there were still plenty left for his purposes, which was all that mattered to him. Most men who saw his servants laughed. One captain in the Princes described them as ‘comical’. Knowing them - their nastiness, their unpleasant goblin stench, their foul ways (and it takes considerable talent to seem foul to an ogre) Habbdok could not see what the man had meant. Annoying, yes. Too small and skinny for both their arms and armour, yes. Funny, no, not in the slightest.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler1_zpsux2ejsgz.jpg)

As they clattered to a halt, Habbdok squinted, flicking his eyes from one to another in search of any he could expect to get some sense from. The closest to him was so out of breath he did not look as if he could speak if he tried. All his own fault, of course, for he had a triple-layered helm tilting to one side on his head and an ill-fitting iron breastplate, all made heavier by several, dangling lengths of chain with no apparent purpose. His cheeks were puffed, and he all but dragged a battered and most likely blunted iron axe with both hands, his back and legs bent from the strain.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler7_zpsvbcswnd6.jpg)

There was a clutch of four gnoblars off to one side, even more misshapen and bent than the puffing one, but they simply stared at him as if they were expecting him to speak. Habbdok could feel the usual surge of furious impatience already building, his head throbbing beneath his skull plate, as he wondered yet again at their stupidity. They were here to report to him, yet they seemed to expect him to report to them!

Still they stared.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler3_zpszhe1vwyn.jpg)

Just as he was tempted to stick the razor-sharp tip of his hunting bolt through the panting pie-hole of the foremost gnoblar, he caught sight of a little runt with ridiculously over-large horns adorning his noddle-pot, and not a single tooth to line his raggedy maw. That was one he recognised, and one who had proved capable of something approaching intelligence in the past. ‘Horny’  was the name Habbdok had given him before.

Indeed, the gnoblar took the cue, and pointed towards the forest canopy. ““Mighty Hunter, lord of gristle and bone, we’s been over there an’ all ‘round an’ back agin,” he said.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler5_zps5fvnzlwa.jpg)

“Very nice,” snarled Habbdok. “Stretching your legs and ‘aving a breath of fresh, eh?”

Horny grinned to reveal swollen, bloody red gums. “An’ looking, o’course. A lot o’ looking.”

“So here’s a thought for you,” said Habbdok. “Why not tell me what you saw before I get so angry you’ll never have a chance to tell again? D’you see the … the denizens, or not?”

The gnoblar’s grin changed to a rather more fixed affair, almost imperceptibly. Habbdok certainly noticed no difference, having never been of a mind to look for such subtleties in runts like this.

“No denizens. Nuffink. If they’s there, then they’s slippery an’ sneaky, leavin’ not so much as a bent leaf behind.”

Habbdok pondered this. If there was no-one there, then why was the army going the long way around? Mangler, their commander, had changed his mind, never saying why. But it had been obvious he had first planned to go through the forest, which is why his change of plans had been noticed. Most of the lads seemed to think it was because what little they might find in the forest would not make up for the effort of finding it. One or two had suggested, though never within earshot of Mangler or any of his lieutenants, that Mangler was afraid of the trees and what they contained, conjuring thoughts of bark-skinned, monstrous demons and invisible foes planting arrows in your eyes, just like in the old stories of the forest. Habbdok had given this latter suggestion little credence, yet still wondered why they couldn’t go a little deeper, if only to find some bigger cuts of fleshmeat for the supper pots, or maybe some flesh of the sweetest kind. And if the trees were thinning, as they seemed indeed to be, surely it would save time to go along a forest path which went the right direction than continue this circumambulation?

Then again, there could be so many other reasons for their route, including the quite likely possibility that Mangler simply intended to enjoy some good looting ‘off to the side’ as they made their way. Having a destination in mind was one thing, but there were many reasons to take one’s time getting there. None of the lads were complaining about taking the easy route: the rootless route; the flat ease of the old road instead of the tangled briars of the ancient forest. Just a pity that the wild animals Habbdok would dearly love to hunt were so unlikely to favour the same route, nor were the Sylvan folk the sort to traverse such an open road. He had never tasted their flesh, but he had heard more than one report that it was a delicacy beyond compare.

While Habbdok the Hunter did his thinking, two of the gnoblars were sharing their own thoughts.

“He’ll ‘ave us running back in any moment,” said Frokit Anglegrinch, both hands clutching the shaft of his bill-hook as if he might fall without it. “Look at ‘em. Everyone else gets to walk .. I’d go so far as to say amble … while we has to scamper never-ending hither and thither through a tangle of thorns.”

His companion, Pooshin Cotchwallop, twisted his frowning mouth to ever lower depths, his chin thrusting more prominently between the sagging lips. If one took into account his protruding eyes and his potato nose, the sum of the parts made for one ugly whole, neatly framed by his chainmail hood. Mind you, Frokit was no looker either.

Pooshin looked beyond the Ogre hunter at the marching column on the road.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler6_zpsrepm04ls.jpg)

“Some ain’t even doing that, Frokit,” he said, watching the huge, grey beast carrying the scraplauncher and its numerous gnoblar crew, “but sit all comfy-like as their beast does the work beneath their idle arses.”

 “I hope they get splinters in their backsides,” Frokit spat through his teeth, “and that all the jolting gives their joints the jip.”

Habbdok had at last come to a decision, so, clearing his throat loudly enough to make the beast of burden behind him grunt …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler4_zps3baaduw8.jpg)

… he gave his orders: “You’re all going back in, and this time you’ll look properly, or I’ll have your eyes in a bowl for a tasty treat while supper roasts. Everyone knows what lives in these woods, and if you can’t find them you’re not looking hard enough. Do something naughty and get their attention. I know you’re good at running away. See if you can’t get someone to chase you. And if you can’t net them, bring them my way and I’ll stick a stick through ‘em.”

Behind him the column continued its journey, Mangler the Merciless’s Mercenaries, flags a-fluttering overhead while their iron shod boots ground the road to dust.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Mangler2_zpsmse28azp.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 14, 2015, 11:41:53 PM
Remas, Spring 2402

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RemanFlagellants1_zpsplgas09w.jpg)

Standing by the window, Father Biagino could already hear the bell, somewhat earlier than it had sounded the previous day. His friend and fellow refugee Father Antonello must have intended a larger circuit through the city streets tonight, thus the early start. Each night the procession had grown, as more joined to begin their whipping and wailing, scourging their mortal flesh to purify themselves in Morr’s eyes, engendering a frenzied urge to fight the foe no matter what horrifying form it took. The very existence of the flagellants was entirely due to Antonello’s efforts and his incendiary street-corner sermons. He yearned to stir Remas from its slumber. The higher clergy, following the dithering arch-lector’s lead, seemed forever locked in vacillation, unable to decide exactly what should be done, when and where. The way things had been going, no Reman blade would have been unsheathed until the undead legions were already scrabbling over the city walls.

Biagino could not fault Antonello’s ardour, nor deny the need for action. Yet he was not sure that raising another army of apprentices, peasants and ill-paid mercenaries was the best course. They had done exactly that at Viadaza, and marched at the head of the rag-tag army so created. And yes, they had pushed the enemy back and even brought down the Vampire Lord. Yet it was not enough, for while their backs where turned, Viadaza was lost, and their battered throng of exhausted peasant crusaders could do nothing about it. Death begets death, it seemed. Here in Remas was a chance to do things differently, better: to gain the backing of church and nobles as well as the common people, and thereby forge a mighty army able to feed itself, march, fight, then march and fight again and again, until victory was won. This time they should learn all they could of the enemy, plan and prepare for all possible contingencies, ensure that their lines were secured, the towns and cities guarded, and the army properly armed. If Father Antonello had his way he would once again lead a rabble from the city, unprepared, unsupported and ill-advised. Biagino, however, would rather such men were put to use digging earthwork defences, repairing crumbling walls and driving mules and carts to move supplies. Then the professional soldiers would be properly supported, ready and able to do battle.

Dong!

The bell’s sombre tone was quite contrary to its size and placement. If it were three times the size and housed in a great, stone tower rather than suspended from a wooden gibbet, then such a sound might indeed be expected. Biagino wondered whether some enchantment had been put upon it to make it ring with the note of a different bell, from another time and place. That was no doubt the intention – as if it were the bell hanging at the gates of Morr’ s garden, singing a receipt for each passing soul. Estimating it to be at least two streets away, he turned back to the chamber just as the door opened to admit the man he had been waiting for.

Even if Biagino had not been told he would have known the fellow was a fisherman, what with weather-beaten, leathery flesh clearly advertising decades of hard labour in the wind and sun. Carlo Gora was his name, a Viadazan by birth, although now a refugee like every other living Viadazan.

Carlo closed the door then stood, saying only, “Father.”

Biagino gestured to the chair. When Carlo hesitated, he said, “Please, do sit. I am not some great, noble bloodied churchman with airs and graces. Merely another homeless wanderer just like yourself.”

The fisherman seemed barely to register Biagino’s words, but took the seat nevertheless. Hearing a howl from the street, Biagino glanced out of the window again. There below ran a half-naked old man, thin as a rake, bearing bloodied scars upon his back and carrying the knotted cord that had made them. A flagellant, off the find the bell no doubt. When he turned back again Carlo’s face appeared to be, for the briefest of moments, stripped of all flesh and fearful to behold. Biagino tried to hide any sign of fear, but could not, for a moment, bring himself to speak. Apparently, his oneiric visions were bent on plaguing his waking hours too.

In his dreams, for several nights now, Biagino had found himself back at Pontremola, once more with the militia pikemen of Viadaza, his stomach knotted with fear as he witnessed the foe’s inexorable advance. Just as in the waking battle, he became fascinated by the motion of their lifeless limbs, the glaring hatred somehow evident in the shadows of their empty eyes. Everything was as he remembered – the way his hand slipped upon the hilt of his sword, the foul stench wafted on the breeze from the massed body of animated cadavers at the centre of the enemy’s line.

Then (every night) his attention was drawn away from the vampire duke’s army as it dawned on him that he was not where he thought he was, but instead on the southern side of the river, its water now laying between him and the foe. When had they moved back across the bridge? Why had they changed their plan of battle? Why could he not recall the retreat? Still, he thought, perhaps it is better to be on this side, for then the enemy must ford the river to reach us, being weakened in the attempt? This glimmer of hope, however, died almost instantly, as something else caught the corner of his eye. In that moment, his neck stiffened and the air suddenly congealed about him to become an invisible force pressing against him. With effort, he forced his head to twist so that he could look at the men by his side. In turn, they looked back at him. Every face sported a fixed, fleshless grin, while their bony hands clutched at splintered and mouldy pike-shafts. Every pair of eyes was sunken within black, bottomless pits. The nearest opened its mouth and screamed an ear-splitting silence, making him stumble weak-kneed from the ranks then tumble onto the dirt. Then a shadow fell across him, which took away not just the light but the warmth too – the shadow of something bent yet strong, horned of head and clawed of hand, wielding a blade almost as big as itself. Finally, just as he saw the shadow-blade lifted in readiness to strike, he awoke. Bathed in sweat, shaking and weak of bladder, he would scrabble out of his bed, tearing the blanket from him as if it were the thing that had held him in the dream.

What could it mean? He knew the dream was certainly sent by Morr, for he had become adept at recognising his god-given premonitions, yet he could not even say whether it concerned the past, present or future. All he could do, as ever, was suffer the wait until the meaning revealed itself. In the meantime, he had questions to ask the fisherman.

“I am told you have been back to Viadaza. Is this true?” Biagino asked.

“For my sins, yes.”

“Why would you go there?”

“To get my best boat,” said Carlo. “I thought maybe the dead would not think to watch the sea.”

“And do they watch the sea?”

Carlo shuddered. “They do.”

“Oh,” said Biagino. “You are brave. Better than that, you’re lucky. Can I ask you now to be helpful too? To tell me what you saw? Exactly what you saw. When that is done, you can put it from your mind forever.”

“Yes father, I would like to do just that,” said Carlo. He took air, as if about to jump into the sea, then spoke. “I got into the bay after dark. This was no difficulty for me as I know it like the back of my hand - every shoal, every rock, how the currents play in the tides. It was darker than ever I saw. Not one fire burned in the city, not one window was lit. I suppose the undead don't need light, don't want light. But the moons were waxing, which gave me light enough to get my bearings. Dark shadows divided the buildings, everything was black and grey. I couldn’t descry any boats at all, thought maybe they had been hauled up further than usual, so I paddled closer.”

Dong! The sound of the bell was growing louder.

“That’s when I spied them. I took them to be Adolfo’s dock guards, brute ogres from the east. And I suppose they were … or once were. Now they looked not just mean but wrong. Their flesh had changed – it was torn, bloodied, blue! And pricked with bones. They had skulls dangling all about them. And they stank – not of sweat and dirt like before, but worse even than rotten pork after too long at sea.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Adolfos%20Undead%201_zpseavckb4b.jpg)

“I knew some of them. Seen them many times, guarding gates or addled with ale in the typpling houses. Ugly brutes with dead-eyed stares that looked right through you. Now their eyes really did look dead. One of them carried a mast, I think, from which hung a string of skulls. Another carried a gravestone as if it were merely a piece of flotsam.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Adolfos%20Undead%202_zpsc1uunivc.jpg)

Dong! rang the bell. It must be entering the street now, thought Biagino.

“There were half a dozen of them. Standing, stock still, like statues.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Adolfos%20Undead%203_zpssv0szjkb.jpg)

“Then I spied another one, smaller than the rest, with its back to me, and I knew that the others were ruled by him. He had a brute’s blade, which he hefted as if he were as strong as any of them. Even before he turned I could tell he knew I was there. And when he did turn, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to rub the fear in deep, his red eyes found me immediately, looked into mine.”

DONG!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/Adolfos%20Undead%204_zpsaggc2rib.jpg)

“In truth, father, I think he’s been watching me ever since.”

Biagino frowned. From the moment Carlos spoke of a huge blade he had suspected that this was the shadow in his nightmares.

“What .,..” his voice faltered, “I mean, who was it?”

“The beast was no man, but it was Lord Adolfo. Twisted and foul, all teeth, talons and horns. But still Adolfo.”

DONG!

Biagino could now hear the clattering of the bell-cart and the creaking of the wheels, and a familiar voice preaching Morr’s hatred of the walking dead. The light of the flagellants’ torches flickered into the room. He turned to the window once more.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RemanFlagellants2_zpsplsvppaf.jpg)

As usual, Father Antonello led the little procession, sword in hand. Behind him came the first of the flagellants garbed in priestly reds and greys. One had somehow set the crown of his head on fire, and yet still walked beside the others – undoubtedly some sort of clever illusion. Biagino was surprised that Antonello would stoop to using stage trickery. The other flames, born on torches, were real enough, as was the battered and bruised state of the self-tortured flagellants carrying them. The bell cart was decorated with pages of scripture and an inevitable hourglass. Two robed men struggled with all their might to push it.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/RemanFlagellants3_zpswio3czc2.jpg)

DONG!

Biagino turned back to the room. “Thank you, master Carlo. Your report will be passed to all those who need to know. You have done good service, and holy Morr will assuredly reward you. I will speak of you in my prayers. For now, however, make do with some broth and some ale. You’ll find both in the kitchen, just tell the servants I sent you.”

When Carlo had taken his leave Biagino looked at the mad rabble of flagellants processing along the street in the wake of the bell cart. He did not really see them, however, for his thoughts were elsewhere. Lord Adolfo was indeed now a vampire, just as the Urbimans had claimed. And he still ruled Viadaza. And he was in Biagino’s dreams.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on March 14, 2015, 11:51:26 PM
Very interesting. But - dong - for whom the bell tolls. Would official changes in the fluff (i.e. destruction of the world) affect your story in any way?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 15, 2015, 12:04:09 AM
Short answer = no. Long answer = This is a campaign set in my own version of Tilea, using (some) lists modified from unofficial web campaigns, with my own take on Old World religion, and my usual low fantasy slant, and in the year IC2402. So, also no.  :happy:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 09, 2015, 09:02:43 AM
End of Season 5 General Report, Part 1 of ?

Not Gormless

As soon as he saw the burnt out tower Big Boss Gurmliss knew where he was. The ruin was no more than a mile from where the big mob had been camped when he left them a couple of weeks ago. They might not still be there, but once he found the camp it would be very easy to follow their trial. Greenskins were not what you would call tidy, and even if they made an effort to hide their passage, Gurmliss still knew the sort of signs to look for.

“Boss!” came Frabble’s urgent voice. “I knows that tower. We was ....”

“Ssh” ordered Gurmliss. Someone was approaching. He always seemed to know when someone was creeping up on him, though which of his senses did the work of revealing the fact he had never quite pinned down. He unsheathed his heavy bladed sword. There was a skittering sound, the clatter of stones, then a familiar goblin lurched around the tower. Known as the Ratter  - on account of his constant companions, a mangy pack of red eyed rodents who were indeed pulling him along right now - his real name was Mig.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5A1_zpsmmdsbxju.jpg)

Mig yanked upon the leads to bring the rats to a jerking halt, while cocking his pistol by rubbing the hammer upwards against his shoulder.  “You came back then?” he said, scowling at Gurmliss and the other survivors.

Gurmliss laughed, wondering if the sight of his unsheathed, bloodstained blade had prompted Mig’s unfriendly preparations, or whether such suspicion was due to yet another shift in power in the mob. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that his companions had both knocked arrows to their bows, and it dawned on him that all this nervousness could result in him playing a deadly game of piggy in the middle. So he cut short his laugh and answered quickly: “Yer lookin’ right at me Mig. It’s not like you need them rats to sniff me out. You thinkin’ I’m all ghostly?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5A2_zpszxhjof6c.jpg)

 “I see you,” said Mig. “An’ I see only two gobs wiv you. So, I reckon you left some behind.”

“Some, yeah. And before you go a-askin’ where our snarlers are, we’ve got wolf flesh in our bellies to answer that question. Tasty too.”
Mig’s lips curled in a snarl, he pulled on his rat-pack’s leads. “These are mine. If you get to thinkin’ you’s wantin’ some seconds, I’ll set ‘em on yer an’ then we’ll see who bites who.”

“Don’t you go worrying, we’s all full up,” said Gurmliss as he patted his chainmail clad belly. “Never mind yappin’ about dinner, I’ve come back with
stuff to tell and I wanna know who it is I’ll be telling it to, and where they are.”

It was Mig’s turn to laugh. “So Big Mosher and his boys didn’t want you then? That’s why you’re back, lookin’ for your old mob to take you in?  I bet your missing gobs and snarlers are in orc bellies not yours.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5A1a_zps7es7tzo8.jpg)

“Look here,” said Gurmliss, “I said I was going to see what they were up to and that’s what I did. I’m back ‘cos I was always coming back. Besides, even if I were the naughty gob you think I am, there was barely anything left of Mosher’s mob. They can’t decide what to do and so they’re doing a bit of everything, some going this way, some going that, and what with an army after them, they’re doing it all quickly. Mosher’s not got more’n a dozen to boss around now. Even the Bull’s left him.”

“An army after them, you said. What army?”

“Same as that smashed and bashed us at Tursi, o’course, with its stinking blackpowder an’ a gun in every hand. An’ it’s on its way here right now. Seems Old Firgle was wrong – leaving the orcs didn’t shake the men off our tail, and now they’re pickin’ us off one by one. So, tell you what, I’ll ask again and we’ll make this the last time shall we? Where’s the mob and who’s in charge?”

Mig had become fidgety, something his rats seemed to sense, their fur bristling, and when he spoke Gurmliss could tell his mind was elsewhere. “Old Firgle ain’t running things anymore, on account of him being dead.,” Mig said. “Moonface Dulldrood’s the boss now. The mob ain’t that far away, neither. I can show you.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5A3_zpsddrmp6jl.jpg)

“Moonface is in charge! How low can the mob sink? Old Firgle was bad enough, with his gammy foot, but I’ve seen Moonface struggle to work out how to unsheath his blade never mind use it in a fight.”

“He ain’t one for scrapping, true, but he’s got ideas he has. He says he can read man words for one, and he knows how to mix up black powder – good stuff an’ all - but most important he knows how to get secrets from the stubbornest of gobs.”

The last part got Gurmliss' attention. “What gobs? What secrets?”

“One of Scarback’s runts. Whispered to a blabbermouth that he knew where some great prize was, something the ratmen would pay a lot more than a lot for. Moonface got him to say it a bit louder.”

Even Frabble, not the brightest of goblins, was interested now. “A ratman prize?” he said. “Gold and glitter? Magic and machines?”

“Dunno,” said Mig. “Don’t think the runt knows either. If he did know he’d still have some fingers and toes. But he knows where it is, an’ Moonface reckons when we get it we can buy our way out of Tilea.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 15, 2015, 06:17:25 PM
End of Season 5 General Report, Part 2 of ?

Dis Ducibus (Directed by the Gods)

The Northern Stretch of the Via Diocletta

Frediano crossed the road nearly every day at this time, burdened with a snapsack containing a loaf wrapped in linen, a pot of soft cheese and whatever else his mother had packed to take to his grandmother’s hovel. His grandmother had simple tastes and was always grateful, fussing over him and offering something seasonal she could gather nearby, either olives from the bushes in her little garden, an orange from the little tree by her door, or more often a cup of goat’s milk from Rubina, as well as sharing the bread saying: “That’s too big a loaf for me. You have some sweet boy.”

Today Frediano was stuck on the wrong side of the road, his growling belly unnoticed as he gazed at the unexpected traffic. Of course, he had seen soldiers on the Via Diocletta before - little companies of mercenaries with crossbows, pikes and colourful clothes, sometimes riding nags but most often afoot, their nags pulling wagons. But these soldiers were different in every way. Their clothes were mostly loose, white linen, with blue or red scarves, either around their waists or coiled about their heads. They carried shields of strange shapes, decorated with golden orbs and tassels of golden silk. They sported neatly curled beards, shaped rather more elegantly than the empire’s mercenaries wore. Strangest of all were their mounts – hulking beasts with overlarge heads, lazy eyes, spindly legs and large fleshy lumps heaped upon their backs to provide a cushion upon which to strap a saddle. He’d heard about them in stories, desert animals called cammelli, but he had never seen one before. They were not what he had imagined.

He could have crossed the road before they reached him, but on spotting the vanguard of the column he forgot his errand and stumbled to a halt, standing wide eyed and curious. A lone trumpeter led the way, mounted on a fine black horse, something like the sort that lords use to hunt upon but more slender and graceful. Then came the cammelli riders, their double pennanted banner fluttering high above them, accompanied by the booming sound of the largest drums Frediano had ever seen.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B2_zpsoopijrq9.jpg)

“Not them orcs then?” came a voice. “The ones everyone was going on about, eh?” It was Peppe speaking. Frediano had not heard him approach, and nor did he turn to look at him now.

“Arabyans,” he said.

Peppe sniffed. “I know. Sons of the Desert they are,” he said all matter of fact, as if he were an accustomed witness to such sights. “My papa told me all about them. The boy king bought them to fight the greenskins.”

“But the orcs have been beaten by the northerners down in Alcente?”

“They have. Now that the northerners beat them to it, this lot are marching north.”

“Where to?”

Peppe laughed. “Your mama and nonnina should not keep the world from you. You must know there’s a war in the north, vampiro and scheletri?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“All the soldiers are supposed to go and help.” Peppe sniffed. “And it looks like they are.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B1_zpsgpiqemku.jpg)

...

Remas, The Street Outside the Palazzo Montini, Residence of the Archlector of Morr

Father Gonzalvo was alive.

Like everyone else, Biagino had believed him cut down with the rest of the Viadazan swordsmen at the Battle of Pontremola, but instead he had lain unconscious and covered in mud amongst the corpses at the river’s edge, to be taken away with the badly wounded in wagons to Rapallo. Just able to walk when the undead arose throughout the realm of Viadaza, he fled with a farmer’s family to Scorccio, remaining there until he recovered, both physically and mentally, from his ordeal. Not that he was quite the same man as previously, for now he was utterly committed to fighting the undead armies of the north, with no conversation, nor even a thought in his head, that did not pertain to that cause. It was as if he was the very personification of the crusading cause. Which is why, perhaps, it was him and not Biagino who stood upon the wooden dais beside no less than the Morrite Lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini and the archlector of Morr, Calictus II himself!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B7_zpsadnfkzbp.jpg)

While the greater clergymen watched the military parade in the street, Father Gonzalvo raised his hand to bless each passing company of soldiers, saving his most impressive and powerful prayer for the great engine of war at the heart of the procession. Designed and built by the genius polymath Angelo da Leoni, the hopes of Remas were bound up in this machine, a mighty contraption of iron and timber intended to smash the undead legions. Buried inside its sturdy hull was a steam powered engine, its clanking, grinding red hot heart, fed coal by two sweating crewmen. Atop this was an iron-armoured platform mounting an impressive artillery piece of nine barrels and several more brass patereros besides, about which the liveried gunners busied themselves to fire occasional shot-less salutes for the encouragement of the crowds.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B5_zpsdrl9ptxv.jpg)

Da Leoni himself, like the master of a ship, was directing his invention, dressed like the others in Reman livery, honoured to be joined by the archlector’s own standard bearer whose crossed keys flag fluttered from the rear as they trundled along the wide street. He was deep in thought, listening to every croak and rumble from the engine below, occasionally breaking his reverie to shout correctional instructions down through the peep holes drilled through the upper platform’s base to allow communication with the driver’s down in the darkness of the lower deck.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B4_zpsq2zybk3u.jpg)

Just ahead of the machine strode another priest of Morr, repeatedly chanting the words of blessings not dissimilar to Father Gonzalvo’s. Rarely, even in the city of the gods, had so many prayers and blessings been poured upon something other than a mortal soul. It was as if the engine were being transformed into a carroccio not by carrying holy relics, but by washing it with prayers for hours on end.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B6_zpsjhsmqat7.jpg)

In contrast to the constant priestly intonations, the vigorous beating of the drums, and the steaming judders of the steam-powered workings, the watching crowds fell silent as the engine passed them by. Although they had cheered every company of soldiers as they came into sight, the monstrous, horseless engine was so strange to their eyes that their voices invariably petered out in awe. This was not magic, nor illusion, but an ingenious, artificial construct so heavy it ground up the road, and so well armed that it must surely prevail against the enemy. It had been a topic of conversation in every inn and typpling house in the city, and so many hopes were pinned upon it, that it could do no other than draw everyone’s eyes.

Now, said so many in the crowd, Remas is ready to go to war.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5B3_zpsctow7dm1.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on May 15, 2015, 08:56:56 PM
Absolutely astonishing Padre! So much work!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: doowopapocalypse on May 16, 2015, 06:37:01 PM
Dunno if it's shooty enough..
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: damo_b on May 19, 2015, 12:27:22 PM
 :Ohmy: Impressive Padre. well done.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 22, 2015, 05:51:08 PM
Thanks guys. Oh and doowop ... BANG! (Shooty enough for ya?)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
End of Season 5 (Spring 2402) General Report, Part 3 of 3

A Letter to Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

This to my most noble lord, from your loyal and obedient servant Antonio Mugello, being an account of my continuing travels in your service to gather true intelligence from the lands surrounding the beautiful realm of Verezzo.

Having tarried sufficiently long in Remas to dispatch my earlier report, I determined to make my way to the newly conquered realm of Trantio, there to discover how that realm fares under the dominion of the conquering Duke Guidobaldo Gondi of Pavona, as well as to do what I could to ascertain the Duke’s intentions. Upon the day of my departure from Remas I witnessed the arrival of a regiment of brute ogres, accompanied by brigand archers, all hailing from the northern realm of Ravola. They processed through the streets led by several chanting priests of Morr, and all those who witnessed their passage declared them to be the strangest of crusaders, quite an unexpected addition to Morr’s holy army yet not at all unwelcome.

I know full well how the people of Verezzo grow daily more concerned at the Pavonan duke’s conquests, for if both Astiano and now the entire city state of Trantio have fallen to him, then it is not inconceivable that the duke might turn his inquisitive - nay acquisitive - eyes upon Verezzo, especially in light of the Gondi family’s continued yet unworthy complaints concerning the annulment of Lady Leonara’s marriage. Like so many recently ennobled families the Gondi’s pride has the sharp, hot edge born by those who still worry about their worthiness for such rank. Thus it is that Duke Guidobaldo is said to be as angry as ever at the unfortunate misunderstanding over his niece.

Upon arriving at Trantio, in the guise of a Reman petty-merchant, I immediately learned how oppressive is the new Pavonan rule, being not one jot less than that of the tyrant prince Girenzo, and in truth, probably more so.  The city was in a state of alert, having just learned that a sizeable army of mercenary ogres was upon the Via Nano with unknown intentions yet sensibly presumed to be unfriendly. This added to the native populace’s sense of unease over Duke Guidobaldo’s declaration that his surviving son, Lord Silvano, was now Gonfaloniere of Trantio, to become its de facto ruler when the duke himself left. Nor was the barely hidden bitterness ameliorated by the news that the region of Preto had been subdued (after some resistance elicited cruel reprisals by the Pavonan soldiery). This meant that the whole realm was now as one again, the city of Trantio - the town of Scorcio and the olive groves and vinyards of Preto - but it is a unity bought at a high price: the tyrannical oppression of Duke Guidobaldo. Ancient Trantio has become merely a servant to Pavona.

I lingered a few weeks to better judge the people’s mood and to learn what I could of the strength of the Pavonan forces present there. Here I humbly direct your attention, my lord, to the document accompanying this letter in which I attempt an accounting of said forces. Before I left Trantio to continue my journey I learned that a large fortified camp was being constructed near unto Scorcio. This seemed somewhat to alter the mood in the city, the common people now believing it possible that Duke Guidobaldo’s promises of Pavonan protection against the incursion of the dead may indeed be true, and that rather than simply burden them with taxes and impressment, the duke is indeed preparing to defend their realm. Nor is he intending to do so at the walls of Trantio itself, by which time the rest of the realm would surely have been lain waste, sacrificed to weaken and disperse the foe, but rather to make his stand at the northernmost borders, thereby halting the foe before they encroach upon the rest of the realm. Yet my Lord, you must not think this to mean I am certain of these matters, for I was unable to ascertain what exactly the Pavonan army intends to do next. Apart from a company of light horse sent to scout the Via Nano in light of the mercenary ogres, I know not whether the rest of the army intends to remain at Trantio, occupy the fortified camp at Scorcio or march away to some other purpose. Duke Guidobaldo keeps his own counsel concerning such matters.

Thence I travelled towards Pavona itself, intending to reach that city in a week’s time. I write this from Astiano, which has become settled in its subservience to Pavona, and indeed has raised both a fighting regiment for their new master’s army and a militia to guard the town in Duke Guidobaldo’s service. I will send a letter to you as soon as I arrive in Pavona, where I hope to gain a much better understanding of the Pavonan’s intentions towards your fair city of Verezzo.

Ever and always your servant.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Camponeffro, South of Raverno

“There’s nothing here for us. Nothing of any worth, anyway” complained Pasquale for the third time that hour, his voice loud enough so those riding ahead of him could hear. 
Tino answered, not bothering to turn in his saddle to look. “You knew that, Pas, before we even set off. We’re not here to loot, nor to have a holiday.”

 “Never mind holidays and looting, there’s not even food or shelter. Fields all barren, cattle stolen, and what few folk we’ve found in a bad way and a worse mood. We may as well be in a desert.”

They had ridden for three days now, different companies of Portomaggioren soldiers scouring different parts of the region – this road, that village, this path – while some patrolled the forest edge at the southern border. The VMC had done a thorough job of sacking the place – it seemed northerners were no less adept at plundering than even the most veteran of Tilean mercenaries. Now all that remained were the ragged victims and scattered bands of brigands bolstered in numbers by the desperate and the dispossessed.

Tino gently slowed his mount’s pace until he was riding beside his irritable comrade. “You’re looking at it wrong. You should be glad that the northerners came, for if they had not fought Kurnag’s Waagh then I reckon it would have been us who had to do it.”

“I’m looking at this place!” argued Pasquale. “Looking at what those northerners did! Heroes they may be for fighting the Waagh, but then they did this. Turned farmers into beggars and robbers.”

“Aye, they did. But I say again, you’re still not seeing it right. Why not be glad the northerners attacked here instead of Portomaggiore?”

“Oh, I’m ecstatic about it. I suppose next you’ll be telling me that I ought to be happy I don’t have to carry all the loot they took, and that the wine they stole would’ve given me a headache in the morning, and that …”

“Hush now,” interrupted Tino, pointing ahead. “No shelter you said? Well, that looks like shelter to me.”

It was a dwelling of modest size, which on first sight appeared as ruinous as nearly every other they had seen, but upon closer inspection had obviously been repaired, though in a haphazard and makeshift sort of way. The original roof was gone, replaced by a tangle of broken timbers supporting a canvass sheet. Faces peered over the walls.

Tino rode off the road through a gap in the hedge and three of the column, including Pasquale, followed. The other riders carried on down the road, simply not as curious, tired of this miserable land and its meagre pickings. Besides the place was so small they knew they would have to find somewhere else for the night.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5C1_zpsyxyfvegs.jpg)

As they drew close they saw three inhabitants who were everything they had come to expect from this region – an old, bent man leaning heavy on a stick, a battered and bruised peasant with his arm in a sling, and a wench carrying nothing more exciting than a bundle of twigs.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5C2_zpsueb5wuln.jpg)

“You there,” shouted Tino, having unholstered his long horseman’s pistol, a habit formed from bitter experience over the last few days. “Is this place yours?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5C3_zpslzvbzts4.jpg)

“What’s left of it, aye,” said the injured man in a thick Ravernan accent. “All ours. Why, are you intending to smash it up some more?”

Pasquale laughed. “There’s not much left to break, friend.”

“You needn’t fear us,” reassured Tino. “We’re here to make things better, not worse. Stupid question, I know, but who did this?”

“Foreigners, the ultramontane kind,” said the old man in a croaky voice.

Tino asked the question he had been using a lot recently. “Why?”

The old man laughed. “Because this is what soldiers do. I know, I was one once.”

“No, old man. I meant why here and not somewhere else? Why attack Camponeffro?”

“They said we were being punished,” said the wounded man. “I told them I hadn’t done anything to them and this is what I got.” He held up his injured arm.

Tino frowned. This was new. “Punished for what?”

“I don’t know. Having hens? Being nearby?”

The old man coughed and everyone looked at him. “I heard them say: ‘This will teach you not to throw Marienburgers out of windows.’”

Pasquale swept his hand as if to indicate all around. “Seems a bit too much for a spot of tomfoolery and rough and tumble,” he said.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/EndRep5C4_zpsrathc7e6.jpg)

“That was their excuse,” said the old man. “Not their real purpose. When I was a soldier we found fighting greenskins to be a very unprofitable affair. The sort of things they treasured weren’t exactly what we wanted to loot. I reckon the ultramontanes came here because they needed pay, and plucked at any old excuse to make what they were doing seem more than mere robbery.”

“You can tell us about your adventures over supper, old man,” said Tino, smiling. “In the meantime, wench, how about using your burden to get a fire burning? Oh, and what have you got to eat?”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 22, 2015, 04:52:19 PM
Finally catching up on some of this.  Tremendous!  As usual. :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::

By the way, can't wait to see that Reman war machine in action! :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 12, 2015, 07:05:17 PM
Believe me, GP, I can't wait either. But we're a bunch of players pressed somewhat by RL, and things take quite some organising! For now, another little story piece ...
...........................................................................................
Holy Blessings Upon this Weapon, May it Serve Morr’s Purpose

As father Biagino and his military escort walked into the Piazza d’Agezlio the sky darkened momentarily, due to nothing more than the shifting of clouds yet given a somewhat ominous feel by the priest’s thoughts and concerns. He was here to bless the newly forged Reman artillery, the one part of the Arch-Lector’s forces that had not taken part in the recent holy parade, and a part that most soldiers believed was in particular need of prayers if it was to function safely. Biagino himself knew the importance of guns, having witnessed at Pontremola how the foe would fall to blades only to rise again, knitted back together by wicked magics. Those blasted apart by iron shot, however, took considerably longer to re-animate – their splintered bones scattered widely, their shivered arms and armour beyond repair.

Most of Remas would agree with him. Much hope was pinned on the artillery in the coming battle, not just the marvellously fashioned steam bastion, but also these brass barrelled pieces. They promised a most modern form of warfare, of a kind that could bring down even massive and monstrous foes in the field of battle, and which could slay entire files of undead before even their stench could be smelled by the soldiers of Remas.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GunBlessing1_zpsgkapvzud.jpg)

There were three pieces in the square, each attended by newly raised gunners and matrosses busy learning their art. They had already fired this morning – Biagino had heard the latest blast from several streets away - using just powder and wadding, and although the smoke from the volley had been cleared away by the fresh breeze, the smell of brimstone was still evident. Soon the crews would no doubt reek of the stuff, as if their pockets were packed with rotten eggs, and their new, brightly coloured Reman liveries of orange, blue and red would be blackened and singed.

The drummer by Biagino’s side had announced their arrival in the square with a pretty peel and now the master gunner strode over to greet them. By the look of him - his heavy black beard, his stern expression - the fellow was a veteran. Of course he had to be, as the arch-lector’s clerks would not have hired him if he had not presented adequate proof of his expertise. Considering the nature of mercenaries, Biagino wondered just what cruel acts this man might have perpetrated over the years, possibly a veritable torrent of murderous robberies and assaults. Let us hope, he thought, that this fellow can put all that behind him in his present service. Indeed, the arch-lector had promised each and every crusading soldier that Morr would forgive them all their sins and open the gates of his eternal garden to them if they served well. It was an absolution that could cleanse this man of a long litany of crimes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GunBlessing2_zpsp5cknzg6.jpg)

“Good morrow, father,” said the gunner. “Come to chant a prayer or two over our new born pieces? If you please, make them powerful prayers for I’ve seen what can happen when a barrel bursts, and it ain’t a pretty sight.”

“You doubt our gunsmith’s skills then?” said Biagino, trying to match the man’s banter.

“No, good priest, I am sure the brass is flawless and pure, like the church itself …” (Someone in the nearest crew sniggered.) … “but I intend to work them hard, to make these girls hotter than hot. Best mix in some cold charms too if you can.”

“I’m no hedge wizard dealing in petty cantrips, but a priest of Morr, channeling his divine will to those who deserve it.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GunBlessing3_zps2kys5l0i.jpg)

The master gunner grinned. “Then you’ve come to the right place, ‘cos we’re all deserving - arch-lector himself says so.”

Biagino had not expected such irreverence, though perhaps he should have. Suddenly the man looked sombre again, stepped a little closer and spoke a little quieter.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GunBlessing4_zpsbhywlwbq.jpg)

“No disrespect meant, father. Just soldier’s banter for the sake of the boys here. ‘Taint an easy thing to go up against what we face. There’ll be no surrenders when the slaughter gets too much, nor truces to catch our breath. We’re to risk our lives facing death itself, not march about burning fields and robbing cattle. Best then to keep these lads occupied with postures, procedures and puns, takes their mind off tomorrow. A bit of bravado doesn’t go amiss either.”

Biagino understood. Fear was a soldier’s worst enemy when facing the undead. Religious conviction could remove it, and if not, then bluster and boasting might quash it almost as well. “Well and good,” he told the gunner. “I have no doubt you know your business. In this war, however, it is Morr who will guide us to victory, whether we do so laughing or crying. Now, let us go about what must be done.”

The three of them walked over to the first piece, a mortar. Like the crews, it too sported the city’s livery, with colourful wheels pretty enough for a travelling players’ wagon. Its wide muzzle looked terrifying, but of course could not worry a foe who felt no fear. Although Biagino had never seen a mortar in action, he knew them by reputation. Sometimes called ‘murderers’ they were reckoned one of the most dangerous weapons to crew, as in order to fire them one had to tip a lighted grenado of massive size down a short barrel already stuffed with powder, with only a wooden bung to separate the burning fuse and the charge. It did not take the expertise of a gunner to recognise how the simplest error, or the tiniest flaw in either barrel, grenade, bung or fuse could tear weapon and crew to pieces. Maybe this was why the master gunner escorted Biagino here first?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GunBlessing5_zpse81wjgss.jpg)

Biagino spoke the blessing and sprinkled some holy water on the piece, while the crew listened intently as if to gauge the potency of his words. Once done, Biagino asked the gunner, “Have you witnessed one of these at work?”

“Oh yes. A nasty beast should it land a grenade amongst a body of men. And it can work great terrors against a garrison, lobbing fiery death right over the walls to anywhere within. This one is a monster indeed, and it’ll need a good 6 or 8 horses to shift it.”

The man seemed to know his stuff. “I saw the brutes from Campogrotta carrying iron and brass barrels, yet hauling no carriage,” said Biagino. “I scarce believed them to be real guns. Do they really intend to hold them as they fire?”

“They do, but they don’t load with round-shot, merely hail shot or sangrenel. That stuff doesn’t kick quite the same. Ogres might be strong, but not enough to take the recoil of 6lb of iron ball. Reckon that’d take their arm right out of its socket.”

Biagino blessed both cannons too, and the crews manning them. Once he was done he began to bid the soldiers farewell, promising that he would be with the army to help ensure Morr watched over them in their holy work. But the master gunner interrupted him, gesturing at a man carrying a cask.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/GunBlessing6_zpst3n0oq4t.jpg)

 “What?” asked Biagino, somewhat confused.

“The powder,” explained the gunner. “You will bless that also? Ask Morr to keep it dry and healthy?”

“Yes, yes. Of course,” said Biagino, and for a fourth time began his prayers. Considering he had two other piazzas and a yard yet to visit, this was going to be a long day.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 13, 2015, 10:23:04 AM
Padre you're here as well! I can't belive that I've missed this thread. Good to see your epic campaign in two of my favorite Warhammer forums. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 17, 2015, 11:32:15 AM
The Day Before We Met Our Dead
Prequel to the Assault on Viadaza

Father Biagino, trying to look inconspicuous as if merely passing by upon some errand, approached the spot where the arch lector was about to receive the army’s scouts. Being a priest of Morr, one of the Viadazan crusaders no less, no guards thought to stop him. Anyone else would have been suspected of being a spy and certainly not allowed so close without an adequate excuse. The first thing that caught his eye was the formed company of soldiers standing guard, clothed in the blue and red of Remas, with a fluttering standard bearing the arch-lector’s crossed keys – the keys to Morr’s heavenly garden – before them. Despite the livery and the ensign, however, they were not Remans, nor Tileans, nor even worshippers of Morr. They were from the far, distant and mysterious realm of Cathay, being one of several such mercenary companies in Reman employ for many years now.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel3_zpskg0cpiyn.jpg)

He was not alone in thinking Cathayans were somewhat unexpected and unusual components of a holy Morrite crusade. Their role in the state army of Remas was widely understood: ever since the disgrace of the corrupt arch-lector Frederigo Ordini during the time of the Tilean Terror, when the secular overlord of Remas took command of the city’s forces to prevent any further folly, the army had been almost wholly composed of foreign mercenaries. This was hardly a novelty in Tilea, as many an Estalian caballero, ultramontane halberdier or Border Princes brigand archer were hired by many a city state. All these accepted holy Morr as the god of death, part of the pantheon of lawful gods, and even if their first prayers in battle might be to Myrmidia, Sigmar or even Ulric, it was the blessing of a Morrite priest they sought when mortally wounded. These Cathayans, however, recognised none of the gods known in Tilea, instead worshipping alien gods whose very names were unpronounceable. Back during Frederigo Ordini’s fall and the distrust of the church it caused, such foreigners were actively sought, all the better to ensure that a corrupted priest might no more bend them to his will, regardless of whether that will be loyal only to Morr or driven by worldly greed and a lust for power.  And so the quiet Cathayans’ reassuring, and continued, presence in the Reman standing army had begun. But here, now, amongst a blessed army commanded by priests and half composed of willing volunteers and soldiers sent by the powers of Tilea, the Cathayans seemed out of place. But then, even a year ago no-one thought an arch-lector could command any army.

Once Biagino had found a spot where he might watch and listen without being too noticeable, he spotted the dwarfen scouts already making their way through the camp. While they approached, he looked over at the Arch-Lector Calictus II. Wearing his simple red cloak, and unadorned hat, with only a little gold-work upon his brown-belted cassock, it was the arch-lector’s face that drew people’s attention, then held it. Strikingly gaunt, his stern expression reflected both what he expected of himself and of others, while being visibly illuminated by Morr’s holy blessing (at least to those who had eyes to see such things).

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel4_zpsfruszdfg.jpg)

It dawned on Biagino that here was the answer. Calictus was the reason why Cathayans, ogres, dwarfs and all the rest were marching northwards together. Not his office and the authority granted by it, nor his robes and all the outward dignity of religious nobility, but the man himself. All who looked upon him saw a man they could trust to do Morr’s will. This arch-lector seemed as far from the cunning and conniving character of Ordini as one could get. It was the man Calictus who could command the secular state of Remas and all its forces, then lead them to fight a holy war, despite the disastrous false crusade of only 60 years previously. The passage of time had no doubt played a part in assuaging Reman doubts, and the undead nature of the foe proved the need for decisive action, but it was the man himself, devout and determined, who had finally tipped the balance.

So it was that several forces were welded into one, men and brutes, foreign mercenaries and city militia, Remans and Pavonans. From the most able of genius artificiers, Angelo Da Leoni, who had brought his marvellous steam engine, to the most crazed of gibbering, flagellating fanatics, raised from the city’s poorest quarters by the raving priest Father Antonello. From the proud nobility of Remas bedecked in fluted and laminated armour from knight’s head to horse’s hoof, to the outcast peasant archers of Campogrotta in their mud-flecked, linen rags. All marching side by side beneath the banners of the Reman Church of Morr.

And the dwarfs, of course, who had just that moment arrived before the arch-lector.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel1_zpsax7pcnvc.jpg)

They had been sent out along with a company of Bravi to learn what they could of the now nightmarish city of Viadaza. The bravi had returned with little to report, their faces ashen and limbs trembling, their words a confused tumble of prayers, warnings and whimpers. Biagino had learned at the Battle of Pontremola that men could face the walking dead and fight well, while priests sang litanies to heap blessings upon them, and holy paraphernalia invoked an aura of Morr’s protection. But if such things were absent, he knew from his own experience, then the fear engendered by both the sight and stench of the undead could sap all courage leaving an empty, choking pit where one’s guts were supposed to be. Biagino hoped the Dwarfs had not been so affected.

The dwarfs were not alone, having more easterners with them: masked, bare-footed men with fine blades ridiculously rumoured to be sharp enough to slice paper in two (not in the normal way but by separating front from back to form two equally sized, impossibly thin, sheets). In any other army the sight of two such dissimilar warrior species working together as one would be the talk of the camp, but here in this crusade it was par for the course. Biagino noticed that one of the dwarfs also wore a scarf to hide his face. Odd, he thought. Maybe the fellow’s beard was too bright a shade of ginger and he didn’t want to reveal the scouts’ position by it? But then why was the white bearded dwarf not similarly wrapped? Perhaps the dwarf was so impressed by his eastern companions he had taken to dressing like them, an action that seemed more gnomish in character than dwarfen. Or did the fellow have some mutilation to hide, which in the case of a dwarf might be nothing more than an ill-clipped beard? He shook his head – it was lack of sleep that made his thoughts stray so wildly and easily.

The dwarf at the front did the talking. He was clothed in chainmail, wore his beard in neat braids, and carried an iron hammer as big as a two pint pot upon his shoulder. Having bowed to the arch-lector in the quick and slight dwarfen manner, he began his report.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel2_zpsuunefo8t.jpg)

“Your Holiness. We have done as you commanded and looked upon the foe. We counted those on the roads and byways, and approached to within a long-bow’s shot of the walls . The enemy is not as strong as us, but is in no ways weak or ill-prepared.”

Calictus flexed his fingers. “Do you mean they have intelligence of our approach or that they are diligent in their continuing watch?”

“I cannot say for certain. They’re not the sort of enemy we can capture and interrogate, but it seems to me they know we are close. The city walls are manned in strength both day and night, and they have strong patrols covering a distance of four miles from the gates.”

Biagino wondered whether the limit of the enemy patrols was due to how far their vampiric master’s will could reach.

“The patrols – they are undead?” asked the arch-lector, which Biagino took to mean that he too was weighing the same possibility.

“Yes, your holiness. Long dead horsemen; bleached bones devoid off all signs of flesh; hooves a-clattering just like living horses. You can hear them coming some way off – what with so much rocky ground on or off the paths all around the city. They rode in companies, column of twos, banners at their fore, like soldiers. One lot even had a drummer beating silently at the shredded remnants of mouldy leather atop his copper kettles.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel7_zpswbpu5jgx.jpg)

“Did they see you?” asked the arch-lector.

The dwarf pondered a moment, then turned to look at his company. Some shook their heads a little, others shrugged. “I think not, your holiness. They gave no sign of doing so. They didn’t pursue us. They didn’t even turn to look our way.”

The officer by arch-lector’s side, a mercenary captain from Astiano whose name escaped Biagino, suddenly perked up. “Ah, but do the dead need to look in order to see? They don’t require eyeballs, which should surely prove a much more troublesome deficiency compared to failing to turn one’s head.”

Biagino wondered if the captain was related to the noble Duccio family, long famed for their philosophical bent. Perhaps he had come along with the Pavonans, Astiano’s new rulers? Perhaps the man had chosen to be just as philosophical about being conquered?

“The undead are not bound by natural laws, but by unnatural ones,” answered the arch-lector, in a matter of fact tone that very much surprised Biagino. It was as if he were lecturing a pupil on a spring morning. “Only in a vampire’s face can one see expression, and even then it is never to be trusted for their very existence is a lie, and what they choose to show the world is rarely the truth. Still … it matters not whether the riders saw these scouts, if Lord Adolfo already knew of our approach.”

The Astianan frowned. “So we cannot surprise them?”

“I doubt it,” said the arch-lector. “But we can attack before Lord Adolfo has any more time to prepare. Before any relief can be sent to him.” He turned back to the dwarf, “You said you looked upon the walls, that they were manned in strength. Tell me exactly what you saw.”

“There’s not a wall unguarded, your holiness. I checked every one with my spy glass. A dozen at least upon each. Some were skeletons armed with long spears, many armoured too.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel5_zpslumswt7i.jpg)

“And there were still rotting corpses upon other walls, more of them than the skeletons I reckon, as well as brutes guarding the gate …”

That’s the same as ever, thought Biagino. When Lord Adolfo was still mortal both the seaward and landward entrances to his city had always been guarded by Ogres. Now he was a vampire, why wouldn’t his brutes be zombies? Biagino already knew to expect undead ogres at the city, for the fisherman had reported their presence to him. In truth, there was nothing described so far he had not told the arch-lector himself. He had written lengthy reports concerning what he himself witnessed at Viadaza and all that the witnessed he had questioned had told him. Except, of course, and somewhat crucial to the true picture, he could not say that all these things were still there. Until the scouts looked with their own eyes it was entirely possible that Adolfo’s main strength might already have moved elsewhere.

This thought made Biagino think of his recent nightmares: Catching his breath after the victory at Pontremola, the cheers of his battered regiment as the enemy falls back. No-one has the strength to pursue them, but it is not necessary. The enemy is beaten. The vampire Duke is dead. The tide is turned. But then the dream changes and he is hiding with Ugo in the trees east of Viadaza, watching as the Vampire Duchess is welcomed into the city by Adolfo’s hellish army. Panic wells inside him. There has been no victory. Pontremola was a trick, an illusion. Even as the Viadazan crusaders cheer at the sight of the enemy falling away, in truth the enemy has already passed them by, and the city has fallen. Then the dream changes again, back to the army, except these are the Reman crusaders, and they too are ready to cheer, any moment. The enemy is about to retreat. His legs grow weak, his sword slips from his grip, for he knows if they do retreat, then it is the same as Pontremola - a hollow victory. The real enemy has already passed them by and is even now swarming through yet another town. For them, to die is to be undead, to be defeated is to be undefeated. His head swims as the macabre dance unwinds about him - feint, attack; fall, rise; lose, win - while his dancing Duchess partner manoeuvres him, step by lurching step, ever closer to the water.

He jolted awake. The dwarf was still speaking.

“… without need of a gate, for they were weaving freely through the very walls, outside, then inside, now outside again, as if the grey stone were merely mist. Their horses’ hooves barely touched the ground, if at all, and they were lit by green flames as if they had been doused in oil and set ablaze.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/CrusadeVsViadazaPrequel6_zpsqlzpmyhl.jpg)

“Enough, master dwarf,” snapped Calictus. “Let’s not wax so lyrical about such horrors in the camp, shall we? We will face them soon enough, but when we do, it will be with Morr’s blessing as our armour, and Morr’s will as our nerve. It will help if the soldiers have had a good night’s sleep tonight, so, as I said, no mention of this again until the battle is won.”

“'A good night’s sleep is the whetstone of success',” said the Viadazan captain, quoting some ancient scholar on the art of war.

A good night’s sleep! thought Biagino. If only.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on August 17, 2015, 12:44:56 PM
Oooh!  I like the new scary, green covered, skeletal cavalry! :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on August 18, 2015, 07:54:57 PM
I love your style... I feel like reading some awesome narrative battle report, like they used to post in old WD's. Hell, that's so inspirational it actually made me paint a couple WFB models. :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 18, 2015, 08:03:59 PM
Thank you very much for saying so, Xathrodox86. It really does help keep my own enthusiasm going if I know some people enjoy reading this stuff.

As for a battle report ... here is the first part of this one:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Death Becomes Them
The Assault on Viadaza, Illustrated Battle Story

The ground beyond the grey walls of Viadaza, out to the ancient ruins of a Morrite church and the rocky outcrops three hundred yards away, was empty of all buildings, trees, walls and hedges – cleared to ensure that approaching army would find no concealment. It was a common tactic, allowing the defenders plenty of time to rain bolts and bullets upon the foe. Viadaza, however, was garrisoned by the undead, who rarely attempted to employ missiles of any kind, and so either the clearing had been done before the city turned, or perhaps the intention was to force any attackers to look long upon the foul and terrifying garrison as they drew closer.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FieldofBattle_zps0vmaiqdl.jpg)

Round and square towers studded the walls, and a large, earthen bastion studded with storm poles had been thrown up before the gate. Even if unmanned, the earthwork made any approach towards the gate considerably more difficult. The Morrite Crusaders, however, had brought artillery, and intended to break down more than the gate - both the Pavonan and Reman master gunners had promised their heavy shot could, given sufficient time, bring down the walls and towers themselves.

There were three large guns in the army of the living. Two were Reman, and stood amongst the main their own battalion upon the right and centre of the line. Father Biagino, who had once stood in the front rank of the Viadazan pikemen as they faced the undead in battle, this time stood alone, close to the artillery, very happy not to be in the vanguard this time. To the right of the guns rode the hero of Pontremola, General d’Alessio, leading the brightly armoured and prettily plumed nobility of Remas. Beyond them, upon the flank of the line, jogged a band of skirmishing bravi.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault1_zpsanef06g8.jpg)

The main marching strength of Remas was to the left of the guns. The large mob of flagellants could barely be held in line as they marched beside the column of pike and halberdiers. Behind them the carroccio trundled, from which jutted a huge banner bearing the arms of the Morrite church of Remas, while in pride of place at the very centre of the line of battle jolted Angelo da Leoni’s massive war contraption, its upper deck doors already pulled open to reveal the multiple muzzles of the helblaster within. Black and sooty steam belched from its long, central funnel as gears grinded and chains rattled.

The left of the crusader’s line was composed of the other two battalions in the allied force: the blue and white liveried Pavonans, and the archers and grey-skinned brutes sent by Lord Nicolo from Campogrotta. Here, as well as another gun tended by its own engineer, there were handguns, bows, longbows and leadbelchers, all massed together and ordered to clear the walls before them of anything that moved.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault2_zpsib1z3gaw.jpg)

The young lord Silvano Gondi, the only horseman in the Pavonan battalion, had chosen not to ride with the Reman nobility and General d’Alessio, for it seemed to him only proper that he should personally command the army he had brought. So it was he rode amongst them.


(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault4_zpsoomxorir.jpg)

His armour was practically identical to that which his brother had been entombed in, for it had been fashioned in the same workshop at the same time. And like his brother, he sported a tall feathered plume so that all could spot him and recognise him instantly. He carried his lance couched beneath his arm, giving the impression not of a commander ready to issue orders to this company and that, but of a young knight about to charge headlong into combat. In truth, given even the slightest opportunity, that was exactly what he intended to do.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault3_zpsik6cdjnp.jpg)

Behind the Cathayan crossbowmen, between an abandoned smithy and the blue and red barded draught horses hauling the carroccio, stood the arch-lector of Morr, Calictus II himself. The only guard he had was his personal standard bearer, present more to mark him out for his soldiers to see than to defend his person. He had declared that morning to his officers that the army was his shield and Morr his armour, thus it was a waste of sword arms to oblige any warriors to linger with him when there was Morr’s holy work to be done. In return, General d’Alessio suggested, therefore, that the arch-lector should stay at the rear, all the better to incant his magical prayers to embolden and protect the soldiers, without risking injury to himself. Calictus, wholly aware that his priestly life had in no way equipped him for the bloody press of a melee, did not argue.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault6_zpseudnvo8k.jpg)

Father Antonello had a rather different take on things, however. All thought of prayer and priestly duty had gone from his head as he gave himself up to the same frenzied fury his fanatics were in gripped with. Leading them, standing at their front and right, he thus found himself furthest forward in the entire battle line. Not that he noticed, nor that he would he care if he had.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault7_zpsthhyj8wn.jpg)
(Game Note: We knew characters are not technically allowed to join flagellants, but decided as he had personally raised these men from the streets of Remas, as seen in previous stories, then he should lead them. He could cast no prayers, however, while in the grip of his religious frenzy.)

The rotting, mindless servants of the vampire Lord Adolfo swarmed upon the city walls, peering and leering through the crenelated parapets. Gathered on the southern stretches of the wall, where Adolfo also lurked, were undead brutes, slavering ghouls and the animated bones of warriors who had fought and died at this very site many hundreds of years ago.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault11_zps5kylwzud.jpg)

Along the northern reaches stood even more skeletons, hiding a necromancer amongst their number, while outside the walls stood a shambling horde of zombies – the recently living denizens of Viadaza who had failed to flee when dead arose.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault12_zpsvwb6ljtc.jpg)

The crusaders could not know where the enemy’s horse soldiers were, for the walls hid them from sight, however those who had heard what the dwarfen scouts had to say, and those officers who had subsequently been warned what to expect, knew that the undead riders could emerge from the walls – literally bursting through the walls - at any moment. (Game Note: I have edited out the 6 dice placed inside the walls, numbered 1 to 6. In the game they represented the possible positions of the hexwraiths and black knights, which the controlling player had secretly written down. It seemed only fair that if they were both ethereal and hidden behind thick stone walls, the opposing player really shouldn’t know where they were!)

Although the height of the walls and the parapets upon them concealed much of the smaller foe, so that only spears and helmets, or bald heads and clutching hands could be seen clearly, none of the crusaders could fail to see the brutes guarding the gate and the walls about it. Their once grey flesh had mouldered into a bruised mess of blue, and was pierced through with snapped shards of bone. One had a huge cleaver dug deep into his skull, while the one upon the highest part of the gate bore a makeshift flail with threshing heads made of … well, heads. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault13_zpsdcobrmj6.jpg)

In the main street behind the gate a ghastly chariot rolled along, pulled by two long dead beasts. It carried a standard fashioned from what could only be a giant’s hand, and was not only piled high with skulls, but had skulls decorating every possible place such could be affixed.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault15_zpshekvq7mg.jpg)

The charioteer was the part fossilised corpse of a warrior so ancient it had been the fashion in his day to share one’s grave with a chariot. He had been a head-collector in life, and those heads, even now containing the faint, whispering slivers of the souls they once belonged to, conjoined in their ages-old misery to conjure up a palpable aura of foul magic which cursed the very ground along which the chariot passed. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault22_zpsejihkcj6.jpg)
(Game Note: You have probably already guessed, but this is my ‘counts as’ corpse cart.)

Battle to follow soon.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on August 18, 2015, 09:53:34 PM
Wonderful lead in :::cheers:::!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: damo_b on August 19, 2015, 02:42:57 PM
Great start padre.
Looks good i even remember it that way. Lets see if the rest is the same as my memory.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 20, 2015, 09:09:38 PM
@ damo_b: No pressure then?  :-D I have my notes, and about 80 photos to pick and choose from, so I reckon I will get this report spot on. It really helps when I can GM, take notes and photos, and not have to worry about tactics, decisions, moving figures and rolling dice. So .. thanks ever so much for stepping in and commanding the crusade. BTW, Craig did e-mail me to say thank you to the player who commanded his force!
.................................................................................
Death Becomes Them
The Assault on Viadaza
Part 2


As was both proper and expected, it was Generalissimo Urbano d’Alessio who gave the command for the assault to begin, drawing his sword and sweeping it over his head to point at the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault8_zpshunaqyqe.jpg)

Drums and cornets began to sound the preparative, growing more numerous and thus louder as new musicians joined in across the line of battle. The mules and nags in the baggage train reared and jolted in fear, not because they were unused to the beating of drums, but because the field had been so quiet only moments before. When the first blast of the artillery added to the noise – for it had been agreed that before anyone moved the artillery would begin its bombardment - it was all the handlers and wagoneers could do to stop the horses breaking their collars and snapping the yokes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault9_zpshcdxrefi.jpg)

It was intended that the steam tank and the ogre lead-belchers would move as soon as the first signal was given, closing near enough to the walls to add their firepower to that of the big guns. Accordingly, in the very centre of the line, Master Leoni’s iron and timber behemoth juddered and lurched, but then (although the sound of it was unheard by most of the army due to the thundering of the guns) it began to groan dangerously loud. Desperate to avoid calamity, Leoni was forced to vent the steam. As clouds of boiling vapour burst from the funnels, he knew his pride and joy would not be moving just yet. It was a rather inauspicious start to his military career.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault5_zpspbpai4hb.jpg)

Calictus II had already spotted the large mass of zombies milling outside the city’s northern walls. Reluctant to allow the entire right wing of the army to be distracted and weakened by the need to hack through such a stinking horde of walking corpses, he conjured his Circlet of Burning Gold to make them stumble and struggle even more than usual, satisfactorily thwarting their advance.

Meanwhile, the artillery’s iron round-shots had thumped into the walls to cause very little discernible damage (Game Note: 3 x ‘No Effects’ rolled. Damian had said his bad dice rolling was legendary, and already we were beginning to wonder.) When the Campogrottan leadbelchers also hefted their barrels …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault10_zpsopdtkr4s.jpg)

… and loosed a barrage of lead and iron, they too were surprised to see only one ghoul tumble back from the parapet. Most of their shot merely peppered and chipped at the walls.

The sound of the blasts now dissipated, the echoes rapidly diminishing, to be replaced by a booming, staccato laughter emanating from the wall by the gate. It was one of the undead brutes, renowned for his bellowing voice in life, and now proving that death had not stripped him of his capability.   
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault14_zps1ae2pcun.jpg)

When the horde of zombies failed to appear around the north-eastern tower as intended, Lord Adolfo’s lieutenant, a necromancer of considerable skill, realised some curse must have been employed against them. Undismayed, he simply decided he would raise some more. So it was that a newly animated company of corpses lurched to their feet and began their own stumbling advance right before the enemy.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault17_zpsummqfd2h.jpg)

Not willing to allow the ineffectiveness of the artillery to dishearten the army, d’Alessio ordered the general advance. Praying to Morr, Master Leoni shouted instructions down to the engineers below – open that, release this, pull the other – and now his engine of war did move, clattering along beside the huge regiment of Estalian pikemen as they marched on apace.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault16_zpsx3ix2ayu.jpg)

Although Calictus’ next use of the circlet was successful, an eddy in the winds of magic disturbed his concentration, and all enchantment was subsequently sapped from it. He knew it would be useless for the rest of the fight. The very same eddy proved too slippery for the lesser priest, Father Frederico, too. His Ruby Ring of Ruin sent a fireball to fell two zombies, but then suddenly grew mundanely cold as it too failed to preserve its magical aura. Both priests soon forgot these particular frustrations as they watched two round-shots once again fail even to shake the walls. A third shot, sent from the Pavonan piece, did at least splinter the gate’s timber. Those who noticed (which was not many) decided this might mean the guns could yet contribute to the struggle. Cathayan crossbow bolts felled three of the newly raised zombies, while the cloud of missiles spat out by the leadbelchers and longbows threw only two more ghouls from the parapet. The other ghouls, leering intently over the walls, their horribly bent forms twitching as their black-clawed fingers scratched at the stone, had obviously not even noticed the deaths.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault18_zpsu5v7fj8d.jpg)

Inside the city, a large company of undead horse formed up behind the southern wall, and readied themselves to ride right through the very stone itself. (Game note: Darren revealed them then changed his mind about actually moving them through the wall, thus an unnecessarily early manifestation!)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault19_zpsecvsssbr.jpg)

On the northern side of the city a hideous band of hexwraiths burst from the walls to begin riding up behind the magically slowed zombies.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault20_zpsrm1xt2zn.jpg)

Both the vampire Lord Adolfo and his necromantic second in command cursed as they could find insufficient winds of magic to unleash any effective spells, perhaps the result of the same eddy that had so unbalanced the enemy’s priestly prayers? All they could do was watch as the enemy came on, the massed foot regiments at their centre taking the lead.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault21_zpsy2nqfhju.jpg)[/URL]

Adolfo could not know, but the appearance of the hexwraiths did at least have an immediate effect on the foe, for Generalissimo d’Alessio and the nobility of Remas forming his guard thought better of riding any closer to a deadly foe they could not possibly harm. So it was they slowed their already slow pace, awaiting events to see if there was anything of use they could contribute to the assault.

Three more blasts came from the cannons, and this time one of the brace of Reman guns blew itself apart in the process. For the sixth time a ball of iron bounced from the northern stretch of the wall, making several of those who witnessed wonder whether there might be some enchantment upon the walls. Perhaps they had been bathed in a necromantic concoction of sacrificial blood lending them some new magical of strength beyond that gifted by mere stone and mortar? Or perhaps great, thick piles of earth had been thrown up behind the walls, giving them a very mundane sort of strength? A good many men now began to wonder if they were marching headlong to their doom, for the thought of having to climb ladders to face such a terrifying foe was not exactly a happy one. Just then, however, another ball hit the gate, and this time huge shivers of timber were seen to break away as the shot tore right through. Maybe the gate would be broken? Maybe they would walk in fully armed rather than be forced to clamber up ladders with only swords and knives as weapons?

Even as Master Leoni was leafing through his leather bound notes and calculations concerning the technical intricacies of his ingenious invention, once again the awful groan issued from its workings, this time sending a measuring rod to full extension. So once again he was forced to haul upon both venting levers, whilst shouting as best he could over the noise to instruct the engineers to open the fueling hatch and loosen the pressure grate. The machine slowed to a halt, and Leoni, in truth more baffled than embarrassed, now took a moment to ponder, his book open in his palm, hoping that inspiration would strike and he could think of some way to make the machine behave.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault24_zpsydp2zp4z.jpg)

Again the hail of missiles hurled at the walls felled only a handful of the foe, while the contrary winds of magic ruined yet more magical artefacts. The priests knew that they would have to put their faith (rather appropriately) in prayers, rather than rely on enchanted trinkets and baubles.

Now more undead riders appeared, trotting out of the southern walls as if it were no more difficult to do than leaping over a ditch. Once they were the disciplined bodyguard of an ancient warlord, and their training seemed somehow remembered as they wheeled neatly, maintaining almost (or entirely?) unnaturally good order, and began their own leisurely ride towards the foe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault23_zpsateryooy.jpg)[/URL]

Adolfo found magic enough to restock his slightly damaged company of ghouls, while his necromancer glanced over to see that at last the huge mob of zombies had broken free of whatever it was had been slowing them down. They shambled forwards, hefting rusted swords and empty blunderbusses, bent pitchforks and damp pistols, chipped spears and maces.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault26_zpssze4em26.jpg)

Upon the other side of the field of battle, the soldiers of Lord Silvano’s Pavonan battalion were keen on showing the Remans that they would not be laggardly in this fight. They too approached the walls, their swordsmen aiming towards the gate while the halberdiers marched straight towards the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault27_zpshjyanihr.jpg)

Beside them the Campogrottan Ogres continued forwards, the leadbelchers leading the way, hastily loading their pieces in the hope of delivering a hellish blast at the undead riders.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault30_zpsroii236i.jpg)

When they did shoot, however, only one foe went down, while the other riders seemed only to have been awakened to the Ogres’ presence. Their empty eye sockets turned to look upon the brutes, then they pulled at their reins to turn the mounts too.

In the centre of the Crusaders’ line the pike picked up the pace, skirting the empty earthwork and very definitely making for the gate. If (when?) it did finally break, they wanted to be ready to attack immediately.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault29_zpsfcmbd2n2.jpg)
 
And they proved to be in luck, for just then another Pavonan roundshot smashed into the timber, this time tearing it down and breaking down the portcullis behind too. The way into Viadaza was now open, and apart from a cannon and its crew, the forces of the crusade had not lost a man.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault31_zpsktko2p2x.jpg)
 
Up on the walls, Lord Adolfo wove adroitly through the fidgeting ghouls to find a better spot to sight the foe, and one from which he could cast magic to aid his horse soldiers as well as the defenders upon the walls. As the gate splintered and fell, he glared over the parapet, his red eyes gleaming with hatred, fangs bared, and he began to ponder whether he could hold this city, or whether it might be best to leave and return to his mistress. It seemed to him that a fight to the death meant that she would lose both Viadaza and this army, whereas if he could escape with some sort of force, then only the city was lost. His loyalty to her was paramount, and ultimately informed his every decision. For now, however, he put any thoughts of flight from his mind, for his blood was up, and a fury knotted every muscle in his body. This city had been his in life, and was still now his in death. He would try this fight a little longer, for his army was still virtually whole, and he would have it tear deep into the foe before he chose to yield his city. If he was to leave and flee to his mistress, he intended to tell her he had left the enemy wounded, reeling and afraid.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault38_zpslzov9czk.jpg)

More to follow asap

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Burtx on August 21, 2015, 10:08:21 PM
Great stuff padre! I finally managed to catch up again. Good to see 'my' ogres in action - Razger
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 21, 2015, 10:13:38 PM
I notice 'Razger' doesn't mention the poor brigand archers as being his. It's almost as if he cares not a jot for any of the humans in his master's realm. Mind you, perhaps he learned that attitude from his master?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on August 22, 2015, 05:55:18 AM
Is that big blue guy a converted Strigoi? I know I've seen him somewhere. Anyway, awesome as always. :)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on August 22, 2015, 10:25:02 AM
The battle has just barely been joined, the undead are in motion, the missile fire effective to a degree, the lumbering warmachine struggling, and who will win remains to be seen. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 25, 2015, 07:46:16 PM
@ Xathrodox86 - He is! Simple conversion - I chopped one hand off and replaced it with an ogres' hand carrying a massive sword.
@ GP: You will now find out!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Death Becomes Them
The Assault on Viadaza
Part 3


A hail of missiles poured against the upper reaches of the southernmost walls, bringing down three ghouls. The volley gun on the upper deck of the steam engine fired low and so merely left a ragged patch of indentations in the stone. Immersed in calculations regarding the workings of his machine, Master Leoni was entirely ignorant of how badly its opening shot had fared.

Now came the first charges, not delivered by the crusaders but against them. The last two surviving zombies of the newly raised pack ran into the flagellants.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault32_zps6db30ebu.jpg)

One reached for Father Antonello, only to lose its outstretched arm when the priest’s sword came down with furious strength. Of course, the maniacal Morrites made short work of the last zombie, and with such ease that those in and behind the third rank had no idea any sort of fight had even occurred.

The undead horse came thundering into the leadbelchers …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault33_zpstmtotrxw.jpg)

… their spear tips and ancient blades finding their marks with uncanny accuracy, so that one ogre fell and the rest were bloodied. In return, only one rider was dispatched, and the surviving ogres, confused by the unexpected brutality of the onslaught, turned to flee. Finding the ogre bulls immediately behind them they faltered, a momentary lapse that allowed the riders to cut down the last of them. The riders then leaped over the twitching corpses and slammed into the bulls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault34_zps4homokno.jpg)

Although surprised to discover the foe suddenly so near, young Lord Silvano of was determined to prove to his veteran soldiers he was worthy of not only their obedience but also their respect. He lowered his lance, gripped tight upon his shield, and spurred his mount to charge into the skeleton riders who had just engaged the ogres.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault35_zpsjntb89ep.jpg)

Silvano’s halberdiers, still marching towards the city and wondering how in any god’s name they were supposed to assault a wall defended by a foe as vicious as ghouls, now had something else to worry them. They had been present when Lord Polcario, Silvano’s older brother, had perished upon the walls of Trantio in the doubly fatal duel against the tyrant prince Girenzo. Now here they were as the Duke of Pavona’s last surviving son, a stripling who had yet to fight any foe at all, never mind face horrors from beyond the grave, had entered deadly combat. None of them wanted to be upon the receiving end of Duke Guidobaldo’s angry grief if the lad died. Their sergeant, ashen faced, screamed at them to wheel left. The assault would have to wait. One or two amongst the body, although they would never admit it, were actually glad of the distraction, for it may well mean they would no longer have to climb the walls to their almost certain deaths.

In the centre of the field, the Estalian pikemen were closing upon the gate, and their captain was considering how exactly he could form the body so as to get through. In the front rank was the Morrite lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini. How strange, he thought, to be approaching the gates of his own city as an attacker. When the city’s new stench came wafting through the open port, however, it very horribly reminded him of what exactly Viadaza had become, and why such destructive a cure was necessary. Glancing up he saw an undead brute glaring down at from the parapet, and so he quickly channelled Morr’s Stare with a holy prayer and sent the foul creature toppling from the wall.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault36_zpslxpstne4.jpg)

Aware of just how close the Father Antonello’s flagellants were getting to the huge mob of zombies, the arch lector Calictus II began chanting the words to the prayer Morr’s Caress (Game Note: The Morrite priests are modified versions of 8th ed Priests of Sigmar, but with home-made prayers.) He felt the power of Morr flow through him, and knew that the Zombies would now be weakened. Faced with the flagellants’ fury and flails, that weakness would surely mean their imminent demise.

Once again a vast volley from the left wing of the crusade resulted in the deaths of a mere handful of the foe, the sturdy stone walls proving a considerable hindrance. Not that those doing the shooting were keen to try some other form of attack – prolonged shooting and aching arms was much preferable to close proximity to a foe at one undead and deadly. This time the steam engine’s volley gun did fell a ghoul. And this time Master da Leoni noticed. His brow furrowed as he recalled the promises he had made concerning how well his costly machine of war would function in battle - much more than the equivalent of a lone hand-gunner’s lucky shot. Putting his book down, he strode over to the volley gun and took closer command of the crew.

Lord Silvano’s lance lifted the skeleton horse champion right out of his saddle and sent both his and his mount’s shattered and parted bones tumbling. When the ogres felled two more, the shock was sufficiently strong to un-weave some of the magical threads animating the ancient warriors and cause two more riders to collapse. Over on the far side of the field, the flagellants had worked themselves into such a furious fervour that two of their own number perished in the mayhem. They cared not, and as they smashed into the horde of undead before them they released a truly terrible torrent of iron-bound blows.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault37_zpsdb19e4zn.jpg)

Although two more flagellants were to die at the hands of the zombies, thirteen zombies were fatally crushed and torn in return. When Father Antonello himself beheaded two more, so disruptive was their joint assault that fourteen zombies tumbled undeathless to the ground. (Game Note: We now wondered what the flagellants could have done if they had been horded – it seemed more than likely that they would easily then have finished off all 40 zombies in one turn!)

Upon the wall, the beast that Lord Adolfo had become, his vampiric from made bestial by the taint of orcen blood in his veins, invoked dark magic to heal his riders, re-knitting the mounted champion’s bones back together so that in a moment he was back, sword in hand, facing the more than a little surprised Lord Silvano. This confusion threw the young lord, and as he now set about attacking the champion for the second time, all his blows failed to land. Nor was he the only one struggling, as by his side another ogre was cut down. Although some riders were felled by the remaining bulls, many of them for a second time, it was clear that the fight remained in the balance. The watching Pavonan halberdiers now knew with sickening clarity that their young general was caught in a fight which, if the vampire Lord Adolfo employed sufficient magic, could through longevity alone prove deadly. So without pausing they charged into the skeleton riders’ flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault40_zpsmfzln3tp.jpg)

Three more flagellants perished as a consequence of their own carelessly spiralling frenzy, while the rest hewed through the last dozen zombies, and then without even a moment’s consideration, they hurled themselves at the wall, throwing up their ladders with abandon to begin the ascent. Their only thought was to fight some more.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault39_zpsnok1nvgh.jpg)

No matter how he tried, Silvano could not hurt the re-raised champion. It did not matter, though, because with the halberdiers and ogres attacking all around them, the last vestiges of the magical force holding the skeletal riders in this began to weaken, and several riders crumbled to the ground. Surely the stubborn champion would also succumb soon?

The two remaining crusader cannons had begun to concentrate their fire upon the tower between the gate and the southernmost stretch of the eastern wall. Ball after ball plunged into the stone, each one visibly weakening the structure, until it leaned precariously backwards, looking like a stiff wind could knock it down. The Pavonan swordsmen near it slowed their pace almost to a halt, each man amongst them praying that it would fall soon and so grant them a way into the city less deadly than climbing the walls. Meanwhile the Estalian pike regiment had formed into a column of three and began emerging into the city proper, their battle cries echoing off the grey stone.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault41_zps1atxpr2h.jpg)

(Game Note: As GM I allowed the pike to swift-reform into a 3 file-wide column, then wheel to advance through the gate. I also ruled that in this situation I would allow rank bonuses to apply. Thinking on it, I may have been a tad too generous here, and tbh I had given no thought to the fact that the gate might have defences to allow the undead ogres on the walls and tower above to attack down, but … the modified 7th ed. siege rules we were using said that the gate was smashed and: “The way to the fortress is free. However some pieces of the gate remain so troops can only move through at half speed” This seemed pretty clear, so we went with what that statement seemed to be saying. Having re-enacted pike IRL, I knew that it is possible to steadily step with pikes ‘charged’ if you are going straight forwards through a stone gate way, or that instead one can trail a pike to get through the gate, then haul it up to ‘charge your pike’ as you emerge (provided the enemy doesn’t get in the way too soon). But now I have thought about it more, the pike still went in too quick, for I think I missed the half rate movement comment, and I should not have allowed the pike to use their pike, in light of the text re: bits of the gate being in the way. The subsequent fights would have been harder with hand weapons instead of 3 extra ranks fight (Treachery & Greed campaign pike rules.) To add to my regrets I see that the ‘pike-phalanx’ rules do not apply to difficult terrain, and this really should have been counted as difficult terrain. I’ll try to get it right next time, if that’s any consolation to my players.)

Directed by Master Leoni, the volley gun crew loaded, cranked, levered and then triggered the firelock ignition to blast once more, this time blowing apart one of the undead brutes on the parapet above the gate. The other brutes failed even to flinch at their comrade’s violent demise, merely watching as more and more of the pikemen streamed through the gates below them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault42_zpsjpestawz.jpg)

The Pavonan lord Silvano Gondi was struggling to best the bony champion, distracted as he was by the need to regain control of his terrified mount (what with ogres to one side and walking dead to the fore). So he breathed a sigh of relief when the champion and the last remaining riders finally fell. Lord Adolfo’s sustaining magic had withered away completely, for the simple reason he was not even looking their way anymore. Instead his attention was turned to within the city, where both his and his servant’s necromantic magic was pouring forth to animate and re-animate zombies, skeletons and even the undead brutes.

Itself awash with the flow of dark magic, the ancient chariot clattered along the lane behind the walls to crash into the flank of the pikemen …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault41B_zpsp56pubez.jpg)

… but it had scraped against the wall along the route, slowing it and lessening the impact. It did no harm to the pike. When the Estalian champion then hacked a head off one of the horses pulling it, the whole thing crumbled to the ground. (Game Note: I am embarrassed to admit we probably got this wrong too. Even though I had (however dubiously) allowed the pike to have ranks, the rules say the rank bonus is gained from ranks behind the fighting rank. And even if we still counted the ranks, the corpse cart should still have been around because: Cart = +1 for charging, + 1 flank cf. pike = +1 wound, +1 standard, +3 ranks. Thus the W4 corpse cart should only have lost 3 wounds at the most, and none if we had not counted ranks. I think this was down to both me and the players not looking too closely at the stats involved. We’ll get it right next time.)

The earthwork before the gate was now revealed to be a grave-pit as well as a defensive feature, for zombies clawed their way out of the soil to face the flank of the pikemen attempting to negotiate the gate.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault43_zpsmqvv2uky.jpg)

Very soon the flagellants, again at the cost of several of their own number (sacrificed to their spiralling frenzy) had cleared the wall of skeletons and moved to occupy the north-eastern tower, allowing the Cathayan halberdiers to clamber up onto the wall behind them. This meant that already three regiments of crusaders had penetrated the defences.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault45_zpsndjobykx.jpg)

Continued immediately below.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 25, 2015, 07:52:24 PM
Death Becomes Them
The Assault on Viadaza
Part 4 (Final Part)


When the first Cathayans to arrive on the parapet looked down into the city, they saw that the ethereal riders had passed back through the wall into the city, to face towards the pikemen.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault44_zpsxgljp9bo.jpg)

It was obvious that the hellish warriors intended to charge the pikemen, a move which could overwhelm them, especially as the pike were now engaged to their front with the growing swarm of zombies that Lord Adolfo was summoning.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault46_zpshlrto41w.jpg)

Fully aware of just how hard pressed the pikemen might find themselves, assaulting through the main entrance to the city, the Lector of Viadaza blessed them with both Morr’s Holy Protection (5+ ward) and Harmonic Convergence. Then, as Calictus II himself once again cast Morr’s murderous Caress upon the brute horrors, two more cannon balls slammed into the tower to the south of the gate and finally brought it toppling down.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault47_zpsxyeucxeb.jpg)

Outside the gate the zombies upon the earthwork were blasted from all sides – dwarfen pistols joined with the carroccio’s handguns, the steam engine’s swivels, as well as the volley gun. The twitching, broken, muddy remnants thus left on the earthwork were no longer any sort of threat. Three did stagger uncertainly towards the dwarfs but were cut down laughably easily. Not that the dwarfs felt like laughing!

As the pike began a somewhat messy fight with the zombies inside the gate, the large body of skeletons manning the currently unthreatened southern wall now trooped down into the city, heading towards the fallen tower’s rubble remains. Lord Adolfo intended them to prevent anyone else entering that side of the city, hoping that thus the pikemen could be dealt with before anyone could come to their aid.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault48_zps6m43loh6.jpg)
 
The hexwraiths galloped silently down the length of the lane behind the northern wall to hurtle into the flank of the pikemen, immediately killing three with their cursed scythes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault49_zps9dlhsak3.jpg)

But the pike were still hacking at the zombies in front of them, hewing umpteen apart, and in so doing they shattered the magical forces holding both the last zombies and the hexwraiths. In a moment they suddenly found themselves facing nothing but heaped corpses, and with only two hexwraiths left to their side. The other ghostly riders had dissipated into faint wisps of etheric vapours. To the south of them there was a clattering sound as the Pavonan swordsmen came scrabbling over the ruins of the tower to join the Estalians inside the city proper.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault50_zpsn8bf57da.jpg)

There they immediately saw the skeletons pouring up the street towards them …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault52_zpspn2tvebw.jpg)

… and moments later the two bodies were locked in combat.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault53_zpstfdapell.jpg)
The sheer weight of numbers of pikemen meant the hexwraiths failed to inflict any significant damage at all, and when the last two also vanished from this world, the pike reformed to face the walls so that the surviving brutes still occupying them could not surprise them from behind.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault54_zpscbbplu9c.jpg)
 
(Game Note: You might suppose that the zombie ogres (counts as crypt horrors) should have come down from the walls of the gate section to attack the pike much earlier, but in doing so they would thus have yielded a section. You see, victory in this siege-assault game hinged on how many sections (GM designated walls, towers, and three chunks of city within) were controlled at the end of the game. If the undead ogres had left the wall, then the attackers outside would have immediately occupied it, so that the undead player lost a victory point while the attackers gained one. That would make two points difference to the end result, a difference sufficient to grant a major victory to the attackers. So the undead player decided rather than add another unit to a section of the city which was already contested and probably would remain so (denying points to either player for that section), he would keep the undead ogres on the wall. He didn’t know the pikemen would win their combat. Leaving the wall and to charg the swordsmen with his skeletons, however, didn’t give anyone a bonus, rather it meant the tower – well, now rubble – they occupied, was contested, and so failed to grant victory point to the crusaders, whilst simultaneously not allowing them to get any further and claim any more sections.)
With little left to shoot at upon the walls it did not seem important that the crusaders’ next bout of missile fire, everything from cannon balls to arrows, inflict no harm at all. The Pavonan gun, fouled by the rapid firing, its crew exhausted, failed to fire, even with a skilled engineer tending it. The crew now took the opportunity to stop for a moment and study the walls. Their engineer peered through his Hochland Long Rifle sights, sweeping along the parapets to examine each one. As he did so he could see that the foe was now leaving the walls!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault59_zpsvobncphv.jpg)

True enough, Lord Adolfo, realising that it would mean certain destruction to attempt to fight on, decided it was time to leave. And quickly. (Game Note: The undead player, in this 8th and final turn of the extended siege scenario, had managed to ensure that the attackers were up by only one city section – Lord Adolfo passed a Strength test to leap across from the wall with the ghouls to the wall vacated by the skeletons, thus gaining the point for that section. This meant a ‘minor victory’ for the attackers, not a ‘major victory’, and the campaign casualty recovery rules thus allowed any units the defender still had on the field to retreat intact to the next campaign map hex. Adolfo and all the troops still standing now would survive, even if the city was lost.)

The vampire lord let loose a terrible wail, so signalling it was now time to flee. He himself had already leapt across to the southern wall, while behind him the ghouls began leaping down to scamper through the streets towards the docks.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault56_zpsquyk12yj.jpg)

Lord Adolfo leapt down to join them, quickly outpacing all the rest as he led them away.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault55_zpszp13n4fj.jpg)
 
The Cathayans upon the wall sounded their horns …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault57_zps6czjf9n5.jpg)

… and the crew of the surviving Reman gun joined in prayers with the priest nearby …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault58_zpsmaunqudn.jpg)

… while Father Biagino and the Cathayan crossbowmen glanced over to Generalissimo d’Alessio to see if he was going to signal victory.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault60jpg_zpsdtdewccj.jpg)[

He did, and the cheers spread from field to wall to inside the city.

Viadaza was retaken. The Holy Crusading Army of Morr had its first victory. 

...................................................................................

Appendix (Various Game Notes)

Carroccio
The Church of Morr carroccio is a form of armed and armoured war wagon/war altar, just like the one the peasant crusaders of Viadaza had employed at Pontremola. It acts as both a battle standard bearer with 18” effect, but also quells the effects of fear caused by undead to that range too. But the anti-fear ability only works on southern Estalians and Tileans, i.e. those who worship Morr as an important, if not the most important, deity in the pantheon. Ogres, dwarfs and Cathayans, all present in the Crusading army, do not gain this benefit. Of course Ogres cause fear, so wouldn’t suffer it anyway. Just thought I’d mention this so that you would know why no-one had their WS reduced to 1 in this game.)

Composition of the Crusade Marching Force
Remans Our own Tilean campaign list, modified from the T&G campaign list
Arch- Lector of Morr Calictus II @ 201 Tilean Noble
Priests of Morr: Fr. Federico Tinti  @ 55
Pepe Lito, Condotta Captain @ 65 pts Artillerist
40 Condotta Pike (Estalian Mercenaries) @ 435
25 Cathayan Halberdiers @ 150
16 Cathayan Crossbowmen @ 149
11 Bravi Skirmishers @ 99
8 Dwarf Sea Ranger Skirmishers @ 112
2 Great Cannons @ 230
Carroccio @ 265 (Counts as Army Standard) Maestro Angelo da Leoni’s Steam-Tank @ 250
30 Flagellants with leader @ 370
7 Knights with full command @ 186
3 baggage wagons
Campogrottan Crusaders Ogre list & Tilean list
4 Ogre Leadbelchers (Thunderfist & Bellower) & 6 Ogre Bulls (full command) @ 402
Priest of Morr, 15 Brigand archers, 16 Longbowmen (condottiere full command) @ 394
& baggage wagon
Volunteer Viadazans Tilean List
Morrite Lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini @ 196
Prophetic Book, Robe of Cathayan Silk, Sword of Might
Urbano D’Alessio, Condottiere General @ 172
Sword of anti-heroes, Charmed Shield, Talisman of Endurance. Merc’ skill:   Hopelessly stubborn
Priests of Morr: Father Biagino @ 85 & Father Antonello @ 80       
Biagino = Circlet of Burning Gold // Antonello = Ruby Ring of Ruin
Pavonans Empire List
Mounted Captain (Lord Silvano)
15 handgunners
18 halberdiers
24 swordsmen
8 archers
Engineer
Cannon

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on August 29, 2015, 09:33:33 PM
Aside from the odd pike shenanigans, the campaign is a delight to watch.  Thank you Padre for keeping the flame burning.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Baron von Klatz on August 30, 2015, 07:50:00 AM
This is a true joy to see! The models are a delight upon the eyes and the campaign is truly inspiring!

Well done, good sir, you are a credit to the community. :eusa_clap:  :::cheers::: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 06, 2015, 05:44:09 PM
To the vons Kurst and Klatz, thank you for saying. I am now a happy man, and feeling creative.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of Season 6 General Report, Part 1 of X

This map will help with this part of the report. All places mentioned are outlined in yellow.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A9_zpsrkii27he.jpg)

New Arrivals

REMAS

One by one the companies of soldiers halted, forming their line about a hundred yards from the walls. It was as unexpected as it was unusual to most the populace of Remas, yet it was obvious that Captain General Duke Scaringella had been expecting them, for although the garrison was mustered upon the walls there was no sense of urgency or concern. The garrison were not rushing to defend the city because the army outside was not here to attack. The strangers looked more like soldiers on parade than arrayed for battle.

The new arrivals were the famous mercenary army known as the Sons of the Desert, commanded by General Gedik Mamidous. To a man they hailed from the realm of Araby, beyond the Black Gulf. Every company wore its own particular style of clothes, none of them like the fashions favoured in Tilea. Individual officers strode out ahead of the rank and file, and as each body of men came up, they raised their hands to signal the halt, arraying the army into its line. They included a regiment swathed in black, their polished helmets and bright steel blades shining in the sunlight, their standard bearing the text of a vow in Arabyan, whose captain was clad in a coat hemmed in intricate silver lace. As they halted they drew their blades with a theatrical flourish, and gave a guttural cry that seemed half laugh, half curse.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A2_zps6nqmofrv.jpg)

Another company, spearmen dressed in white linen decorated with red patches, bands, and the occasional shirt of mail, halted tiredly, their captain gesturing to their right to signal that they should dress up to the neighbouring body. As they did so their drummer beat a final flourish, rounded off with the clash of a pair of cymbals.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A1b_zpsf7ebt0bd.jpg)

The regiment to their right sported cloaks of silver-grey cloth and scale of a similar hue. They too bore spears, in their case viciously barbed. Once again their drummer neatly signalled the moment for them to halt.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A3_zps30edzdpv.jpg)

Before them was the southern gate of Remas, between two round-fronted towers, fashioned like the walls from huge blocks of stone. Reman soldiers watched from every gap in the crenellations, armed with crossbows or greatswords, while two brass cannon muzzles peeked over the top of the gate towers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A7_zpstu8l2y3b.jpg)

Almost every garrison soldier sported a red plume, atop clothes of the arch-lector’s orange and blue. Many were Tileans, too, Remans born and bred, for the traditionally mercenary army of Remas had marched, almost to a man, upon Arch-Lector Calictus II’s crusade against the northern vampires. Yet they looked like ultramontane soldiers, their hair and beards cropped in the fashion favoured by the Empire mercenaries. It was a style that had become de rigour amongst nearly all the arch lector’s palace guard, and had now spread to the newly raised native troops.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A6_zpsbdtrlsoj.jpg)

Duke Scaringella had already ridden out of the gates, accompanied by a small body guard. A mounted herald in traditional dress bore the cross-keyed colours of the Reman Church of Morr, whilst announcing the general with sharp blasts of his brass horn. A small troop of armoured pistoliers stood off to his left, while a Morrite priest bearing the holy relic of Saint Salladro’s forefinger (the very same finger he laid upon Hagblood’s tongue) encased in silver and mounted upon a staff.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A5_zpscieubzcp.jpg)

The duke wore full armour, his horse brightly caparisoned in painted barding, with matching lance and a shield bearing the keys of Morr. As he was here to talk, to welcome, he wore a smile rather than a helm. Those who looked closely could see it was the rather fixed expression of feigned good humour, faltering as he flinched whenever the horn sounded.

The mercenary General Gedik Mamidous was atop a camel, also accompanied by a standard bearer, although in his case the body guard behind him was an entire army. He wore unadorned chainmail and clothes of plain blue and white plain, appearing every bit a fighting soldier. The only decorations he carried where the silken tassels upon his shield, and that was a fashion shared by several of his camel riders.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6A4_zpsfzg7glvy.jpg)

Before Duke Scaringella could begin his formal welcome address, the arabyan mercenary spoke.

“I have been told that we are late to the feast. I hope, my friend, you will forgive the tardiness. It was not our doing.”

The duke was confused. Did Mamidous mean the food being prepared now to entertain the arabyan officers? “Feast?”

Mamidous laughed. “I chose the wrong words for my joke, I think. I should have said fight. No-one would wish to feast upon the foul flesh of the undead. Are we too late for your holy war?”

Now the duke understood. “A little late perhaps, but in no way unwelcome. I have orders from the arch-lector. He means to put you to use immediately.”

“Ah yes, of course. We have been paid to fight, and we intend to earn that pay. The Sons of the Desert are at your service, sent by our most generous employer Lord Alessio Falconi.”

...

TRANTIO

“What do you mean ‘Scorcio is taken’?” asked the acting governor of Trantio, Venutro Belastra, clearly irritated. The foul stench of the man meant the interview had not got off to a good start, and now it threatened to become even more uncomfortable.  “Are you saying the Remans have turned against Lord Silvano?”

The filthy Scorcian militiaman looked confused. “No … no, your honour. The Remans came and went, to a man, and Lord Silvano went with them - north to fight the horrors.”

“I know,” snapped Belastra. As if the arch-lector of Morr would or even could lead an army of crusaders in an attack against a living town. It was preposterous on every level: the crusaders would surely refuse such a command, the arch-lector’s reputation would be ruined and he would be turning his back on the real danger. Then Belastra suddenly turned pale as he remembered how Viadaza had fallen to the undead in the very same week that its own brave, crusading army was victorious in battle, killing the vampire duke. Had the vampires played the same trick again? Had they outflanked the arch-lector? Were they already south of the mighty crusading army?

He fixed his gaze upon the soldier. “Are you saying the vampires have passed them by?”

Again the militiaman hesitated. “No, not vampires, your honour, but bruti. Hundreds of them, more. Brutes and beasts and all manner of Ogrish things.”

Belastra went from befuddlement to sickening understanding in an instant. Of course it was brutes. There had been reports of a large force of ogre mercenaries on the Via Nano, perhaps even the infamous Mangler’s Band, come through the mountains from the Border Princes. Country folk from the northern reaches of the Trantine Hills had arrived by the score at the city seeking refuge from the monstrous army. But when the scouts returned to report there was nothing there, he had presumed all the fuss was merely the consequence of twisted rumours. He had said so much to Lord Silvano: the sighting of some caravan guards had been bloated into an army; the tale of a tavern brawl grown into a battle. He had waxed lyrical about how it might be compared to smouldering hay fanned into a fire, or a child’s account of snarling kittens twisted into an adult’s tale of sabre-toothed tigers. Lord Silvano had laughed. He had laughed.

It was not so funny now.

The militiaman was still talking: “ … and they had cannons, of a sort, which they carried as if they were nothing more than empty barrels. But it wasn’t those that holed the walls – for that they had a massive iron piece, strapped onto the back of some grey-skinned monster. Mind you, even that didn’t do all the work, just weakened and cracked the stones so that the biggest of the bruti could bash their way through using massive iron-bound clubs. And all the while they hurled filth and jaggedy bits over the walls from goblin crewed throwers on the backs of more beasts. Then they stopped to rest a moment, all of them, which made us wonder. But then there was a shout, and they came pouring in through the gaps …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FallOfScorcio1_zpsufuixndn.jpg)

Belastra felt light headed. This was all his fault. It was he who had advised the young Lord Silvano to leave Trantio, join the Reman crusade and take the army with him. What had he been thinking? Of course, he knew full well why he had acted so. With the young lord gone, he would rule in his stead, acting governor of an entire city state, ancient and famous Trantio. He had imagined a hundred ways in which to enrich himself, the opportunities tumbling over each other in their abundance. Young Lord Silvano had hesitated, asking what would his father think? After all, the duke had ordered his son to ensure Trantio was well defended, and not to be drawn easily into a crusade that did not need his aid, especially when there were threats enough all around, not only from the north. As Silvano worried, Belastra saw his chance slipping away.

“There was no stopping them,” said the soldier. “They queued outside as those at the front climbed over the rubble. Their blades were as big as men, bigger even, and their banners were made of grisly skulls …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FallOfScorcio3_zpsjvbsjdl5.jpg)

So Belastra had worked on the young lord with words of assurance and encouragement. His father would be proud of him, for he could make his name in battle. Not any battle, but holy war in the name of Morr. Silvano said something about his brother, his father’s terrible loss, how he was the only heir left, but Belastra pressed on with his persuasions: This is your chance, as prince of Pavona, a follower of Morr the king of gods, to show the strength of your faith. The Remans will see that you are blessed by Morr, that there is no schism or heresy in the Morrite church of Pavona, only truth and wisdom, and that they too should accept the ascendancy of Morr.

Trembling as he spoke, words were pouring from the soldier: “ … I never saw one so big before, and I’ve been to Viadaza three times. The third to enter was layered in iron plates. All the rest were in awe of him, kept out of his way, and as he came inside he crushed the broken bodies of our dead and wounded beneath his feet …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FallOfScorcio2_zpsqmmmopwh.jpg)

Then the young lord said he dare not go alone, nor with only a petty force at his command. And again Belastra saw his chance slipping away. So he advised the young lord to take all he wanted. Do not be half hearted in the service of Morr, nor think it foolish to use what strength you have at your disposal to defeat that which threatens all of Tilea, not just Pavona. Your father would think you most remiss not to equip yourself fully for battle. He is not a man for half measures, and nor would he wish you to be. Yet Lord Silvano still wore an expression of concern. I can stay here, Belastra said - knowing the young lord was too young and naïve to hear the truth behind his words – I can stay here to ensure Trantio’s obedience. Just leave me some guns, and the garrison soldiers that were once Compagnia del Sole, and Di Lazzaro of course. He and I would hardly be welcome among priests for they fight with prayers not spell. You take the veterans with you, Pavonans all, who have fought for your father and your brother, becoming skilled in arms and afraid of nothing. Let the arch lector witness what they can do. Make him grateful for your aid. Have your own name and not just that which your father gave you. Belastra was starting to believe it himself. Silvano would thrive in war, like his father the duke (but not his brother), and he himself would prosper from all he could wring from Trantio. Duke Guidobaldo would not complain, for Belastro would make sure to fill his coffers too. There was enough in Trantio to enrich them both.

“ … they rampaged through the town,” the soldier was saying, wringing his hands as they shook. “There were none could stand in their way. If a door was barred they tore it off. If a window was shuttered they punched it through. They killed everything they found, every man, woman, child and beast, making mountains of flesh for their feast …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FallOfScorcio5_zpsflijpfw5.jpg)

Now, thought Belastra, all could be lost. If the Brutes came south to Trantio it would ruin all his plans: his reputation destroyed, the wealth of Trantio stolen, his life in peril from the duke’s anger. What now? Was there any way to salvage his honour, or should he look simply to saving his life? 

“… many folk hid … well, they tried to hide,” said the soldier, wincing in a distracting manner. “It worked for me, maybe for some others too. I climbed into a privy, as I reckoned bruti don’t bother with such niceties, besides the stink would make them think there was no food to be found. I was there until dark, and lying in the filth I could hear them in the streets. They toyed with those they found, like they were poppets and rag dolls, laughing loud, inventing cruel and bloody sports before they killed them …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FallOfScorcio4_zps28oxwqbg.jpg)

Belastra shook his head, as if to empty it of upsetting thoughts. He should not give up so easily. Great men, rich men, did not fall into weeping and wailing at the first hurdle. His end had not yet come, and he was still governor of Trantio. Maybe there was still a way to save himself, even to prosper? He held up his hand to silence the militiaman.

“Who commanded them?” he demanded.

The militiaman shrugged, a nervous spasm twisting his face like a stage buffoon.

“Did you hear a name? Did you hear the name Mangler?”

“I don’t think so, your honour, not that name.”

Any name then?”

The militiaman grimaced alarmingly, then answered. “Yes, I think there was a name. I’ve heard it before, in stories about Campogrotta. They chanted it loud, over and over again: ‘Razger, Razger, Razger’.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 06, 2015, 09:26:44 PM
Ah!  The crusaders are victorious, for the moment, and driven from the town, while elsewhere reinforcements arrive, and the Ogres advance.

 :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 06, 2015, 09:56:10 PM
You are kind of correct, GP. I ought to attach maps of the regions to some of these reports.

The Viadazan crusaders were victorious a while ago, but lost their city of Viadaza to the undead at the same time as they were away fighting!

The (new) Reman crusaders, who include some refugee Viadazans, have been victorious in recapturing Viadaza and driving out the undead.

The new crusaders included the young Lord Silvano Gondi of Pavona, the new governor of Trantio (the city state his father conquered). While the new crusaders were fighting in Viadaza, an army of ogres has captured and thoroughly sacked Scorcio, the town in the city state of Trantio. The second part of the above report tells of the acting governor of Trantio receiving the news, and feeling somewhat concerned! After all, Lord Silvano seems to have taken the bulk of Trantio's forces on crusade with him! (I say 'seems' because not everything actually is what it seems.)

The ogres doing the attacking may or may not include 'Mangler's Band' but do seem to be led by Razger Boulderguts, the ogre tyrant lieutenant of the Wizard Lord Bentiglovio of Campogrotta. Which for reasons that should become clear as the general report unfolds, is quite unexpected.

If I'd included a map in the post above, showing Remas, Viadaza, Trantio, and Scorcio, I reckon it would have made more sense.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 06, 2015, 10:13:48 PM
That explanation is helpful, and as a result I vaguely recall some of those items from before.

Also, a cast of characters could be helpful, particulalry if it is in a seperate thread.  That way it can be pulled up as a source of reference as the campaign continues.  I can probably look these communities up on a map, and although posting one could be good, perhaps at the beginning of a cast of characters thread. 
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on September 07, 2015, 07:14:36 PM
That explanation is helpful, and as a result I vaguely recall some of those items from before.

Also, a cast of characters could be helpful, particulalry if it is in a seperate thread.  That way it can be pulled up as a source of reference as the campaign continues.  I can probably look these communities up on a map, and although posting one could be good, perhaps at the beginning of a cast of characters thread.

I agree. Also if you could do put all your posts in one place for a quick and easy refference, it'd eb awesome (hint: blog ;) ).

Loving this stuff so far. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 08, 2015, 08:19:08 AM
I've inserted a map which includes (I think) the names of all the places mentioned in part one of the end of season 6 report (http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg962116.html#msg962116). It's a game-world map, however, and might not show the exactly correct hex-distances etc. I wish now, although this might be mad, that I had done much more detailed, maps of each city state. I might yet do so as and when required, maybe for when I start doing WFRP adventures in this campaign too.

Maps were included near the start of the whole thread, during the 'recent history posts - see http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg835246.html#msg835246 and http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg835313.html#msg835313, both the same map, but slightly different sizes).
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on September 08, 2015, 11:04:37 AM
I've inserted a map which includes (I think) the names of all the places mentioned in part one of the end of season 6 report in highlights. It's a game-world map, however, and might not show the exactly correct hex-distances etc. I wish now, although this might be mad, that I had done much more detailed, maps of each city state. I might yet do so as and when required, maybe for when I start doing WFRP adventures in this campaign too.

You will do WFRP? As an avid RPG player I approve of that! Would be nice to read some logs after your game sessions. ;)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 08, 2015, 11:29:16 AM
I checked the first post of this thread, yet didn't see a map.  Then I began reviewing the first page of this thread and located the map in another post, yet recall seeing that one at the time it was posted.  Then I went down through this page of the thread and found the map inserted at the beginning of the most recent story.  I noticed there are a lot of characters through out this campaign event.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 08, 2015, 11:46:54 AM
There are a lot of characters, GP. It's the nature of the campaign, which doesn't work like a novel would as there are 6 players (whose characters I don't control, and whose private thoughts I cannot reveal nor even know) but there are plenty of Non-Player-Characters for me to work with, through which  can tell the story of the campaign. Any of them could die at any moment (the table top games are out of my hands) but I do keep going back to certain characters recurrently. Several posts focus on Father Biagino, the Morrite Priest who fled Miragliano, then took part in the Viadazan crusade, now in the Reman crusade. There are also the two ex-Compagnia del Sole chancellors, Ottaviano and Baccio - they've been in a few adventures. I am hoping these will feature again, and again. I intend to return to the Dwarfen exiles from Pavona first encountered in Radraffa (http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg836195.html#msg836195) too.

Some characters I had high hopes for writing more about were snatched from me due to their demise. I thought the orc Sea Boss Scarback might last a bit longer, but I am hoping the goblin boss Gurmliss will. Some characters were creations of earlier campaigns (the 'Animosity' internet based ones) like the greenskins Hafdi, Toggler and Doodo. I just wanted to write about them some more.

As the stories are told through the eyes and experiences of various characters, they are not 'the' truth, but what those characters believe. This makes the writing even more fun.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on September 08, 2015, 10:51:12 PM
Oh dear
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 08, 2015, 11:05:58 PM
Oh dear
Feel free to elaborate.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on September 09, 2015, 03:46:55 PM
I checked the first post of this thread, yet didn't see a map.  Then I began reviewing the first page of this thread and located the map in another post, yet recall seeing that one at the time it was posted.  Then I went down through this page of the thread and found the map inserted at the beginning of the most recent story.  I noticed there are a lot of characters through out this campaign event.

Which in itself is pretty awesome. This really reads like a good story.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 09, 2015, 03:49:42 PM
Oh dear
Feel free to elaborate.

'Cagicus' is the player playing the part of Arch-Lector Calictus II, ruler of Remas, and he is leading the crusade (at least like a monarch would rather than like a general would, although he is with his crusading army). He has left Scorcio behind him on his route north to fight the undead. And now an army of ogres is acting somewhat aggressively in his rear!

@ Cagicus: Wait til you see the next part of this report then you may want to add some more 'oh dears'! I'm working on it now, but getting the steam iron to send gouts of steam at just the right time and in just the right place for the photograph, whilst holding both the steam iron and the camera at the same time, is NOT easy.

@Xathrodox86: I am growing to really like some of the characters. I need to work on making them more 'characterful' however. The story drives itself, what with the politics, religion and the fighting pushing my writing along, but I do feel I need to improve giving characters personality.

If anyone thought things were complicated now, there are going to get moreso!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 10, 2015, 08:15:10 PM
End of Season 6 General Report, Part 2 of X

Divided We Fall

Outside the Walls of Viadaza

The city of Viadaza was belching black clouds, foul and noisome fumes drifting eastwards, inland. The dead, both those once undead and those lucky enough never to have stirred post-mortem, were being burned by the thousand. For two whole days the army of the Reman Morrite Crusade had busied itself with piling corpses in the city squares and upon the stone built wharves, then after a generous dousing with oil, tar and pitch taken from the well-stocked warehouses, had set them alight. Within an hour there were few who could bear to stay within the city walls, not because of the heat, but because of the vile, vomit inducing stench of burning mountains of flesh. Most of the crusaders removed themselves to the sprawling army camp outside, where the smoke was lifted by its passage over the walls, then carried by a westerly breeze to pass mostly overhead, only occasionally lowering heavy, greasy coils to sicken those below.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B1_zps7jepgink.jpg)

The camp contained of hundreds of tents and sod-walled huts, in places arranged tidily, but largely consisting of a higgledy piggledy confusion of different sized structures placed wheresoever the soldiers happened to stop. Dotted throughout were fires and braziers, originally intended for cooking and to illuminate the otherwise ominous night, but now either heaped with smoking herbs and green sticks, or filled with smouldering incense to fend off the horrible stink pouring from the city. Near the southern stretch of walls stood a large tent of brightly painted canvas, belonging to the crusading army’s military commander, General Urbano d’Alessio, the hero of Pontremola. Above it flew two flags, the highest, and thus pre-eminent, was the cross-keyed standard of the Reman Morrite Crusade, while the lower was the raven-winged hourglass of the Viadazan crusade, now the general’s personal standard. The general himself, in full armour, casually shouldering the massive blade with which he had slain the vampire duke of Miragliano, stood before its open front. Beside him was Father Biagino, the unassuming Morrite priest the general had now recognised as a sturdy ally in the fight against the horrors of the north, being not only insightful and useful, but increasingly influential. Best of all, he was not remotely aloof as were so many clergy, and was willing to suffer a soldier’s lot without complaint.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B2_zpstqmi4co6.jpg)

Not that Biagino looked like a soldier, what with his tonsured head and a paunch evident even in his loose cassock. Nor that he would describe himself as happy with his lot, for his sleep was wracked with nightmares and his waking filled with doubts, the two difficulties feeding off each other in a miserable spiral. But he was resigned to his fate. He had barely left the general’s side during the last few days. Now he was listening to what a Reman captain had to report to the commander.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B4_zpstgaxevty.jpg)

It was not good news. The captain and his company had been scouting the Trantio road some distance south of Busalla, where he had learned of the sacking of the town of Scorcio by a large force of ogres. He returned quickly to the camp, binding his own men to silence. He knew, however, that there were others with the same story to tell, and had indeed encountered several groups of refugee Scorcians on the road. Most admitted they had fled this way not merely because it was the easiest escape route, but because the crusading army had gone this way and who better to offer them protection than the soldier-servants of the gods?

“I reckon before it grows dark the entire army will know,” the captain said. “The news is spreading fast, your excellency, even as we speak.”

Biagino felt the now familiar panic welling inside. Yet again, he had dreamt this, and more than once. His oneiric visions had repeatedly twisted this Reman Crusade and the doomed Viadazan crusade of last year into one, so that the cheers of soldiers celebrating battlefield victory unfailingly transformed into the wails of citizens as yet another town fell to the enemy. He had thought the nightmare was born of his weakness, allowing fear and doubt to hold him in their grip, yet now he saw the truth of it. Morr had guided his dreams, and although the foe’s true face remained hidden, it was revealed that they would strike a terrible blow just as the crusaders’ backs were turned, and so turn victory into defeat.

The general drew all that he could from the captain, learning that the ogres were Campogrottan, perhaps bolstered by mercenaries come over the mountains; that they had looted the town as thoroughly as they had done to every settlement in the city state of Ravola; and that their leader was Razger Boulderguts, the tyrant general commanding the mysterious wizard Lord Nicolo’s forces. He then turned to Biagino.

“What happens then, father, when this news does the rounds in the camp?”

Biagino frowned. “It doesn’t bode well for harmony amongst us allies. If Scorcio is fallen then the young Lord Silvano may not wish to march any further with us. He was made ruler of Trantio by his father, which makes Scorcio his.”

“His father stole the realm of Trantio, and now the brutes are doing so too,” said the general. "Is there really any difference?"

“I do not think the young lord sees it that way. I have spoken to him. He idolises his father – seeing neither greed nor cruelty, only stern nobility. His father humbled the Astianans when they threatened to strangle Pavonan trade, then marched north to remove a warmongering tyrant from Trantio, thus freeing its people. To him his father is a hero, the stuff of myth and legend, but these ogres are nothing more than cruel robbers.”

“Well,” said the general, “Lord Silvano is right about the ogres, at least. Worse than looting and plunder, the brutes have probably eaten the populace too. But will Silvano leave us, forsaking his oath to serve Morr on holy crusade?”

“Considering what he did to Ravola, Razger Boulderguts probably considers Scorcio a mere aperativo, the city of Trantio being the main course. How can Lord Silvano stay here with us when he is honour bound to protect Trantio?”

“Ha!” laughed General d’Alessio. “He is honour bound to complete this crusade. And besides considerations of this duty and that oath, even if he did leave this very night he could not hope to reach Trantio in time to save it from destruction.”

“He is young and hopeful, and will likely try anyway,” said Biagino.

“Yes, probably so,” agreed d’Alessio. “Silvano fought beside the Campogrottan brutes in the battle, did he not?”

Biagino had forgotten that. “Yes, he did. They fought the undead riders together, and for some time, before he was saved by the timely intervention of his foot-soldiers.”

“So, while he and the brutes stood together against the foe here, the brutes’ cousins were robbing him of his possessions to the south? It seems to me that there is a cruelly clever cunning at play here. This Campogrottan Wizard Lord sends his soldiers, man and ogre, to join the crusade, and then when the Pavonans march north with them, he begins plundering their undefended towns. He fights as both their ally and their enemy at one and the same time.”

Biagino now wondered about the Wizard Lord Nicolo Bentiglovio, remembering a niggling doubt that had tickled at the edges of his mind. Driven from his realm many decades ago, Nicolo returns unnaturally old and retakes it, with an army of mercenary ogres. Was he in fact a vampire? Did that explain his remarkable longevity? If so, perhaps there was an alliance between him and the vampires to the west? Perhaps they intended to carve out the north of Tilea between them. He did not voice these concerns, however, for if it were true he had no doubt the general would work it out for himself, and if it were not true, he did not want to encourage a misconception. Besides, he had dreamt nothing of the sort, and so could not hope that this particular insight was gifted by Morr.

The general was thinking, scraping the edge of his shouldered sword against his steel pauldron as he did so. “It seems,” he announced, “that we are to be tested in even more ways than I ever imagined – and in truth I thought I had imagined the worst. We are now surrounded by enemies, to the north and south, and even if we do not divide the army to march both ways, it could well do so of its own accord. Furthermore, we have potential enemies in our midst too, a whole battalion of Campogrottans. We must take measures to ensure they cannot do us harm. I must speak with his Holiness.”

The Reman captain coughed - not the sort of wracking cough gifted by the miasma emanating from the city, but short and sharp. Both general and priest looked at him.

“Yes?” asked the general.

“Beg pardon, your excellency, but the Pavonans already know what has happened. I noticed considerable noise and fuss in their camp as I came here to you. They looked to be arming themselves.”

“Leaving already? Without seeking my permission?”

“They looked to be readying themselves for a fight,” said the captain, “not for the march.”

Suddenly Biagino understood. “They’ll be after vengeance against the Campogrottan brutes in our army. They have been tricked, and mocked when the brutes helped their young lord in battle. All Pavonans are proud, even the common soldiers. They think their faith is more perfect than everyone else’s; that all they do is right and proper.  If they can hate dwarfs so much as to banish them from their realm, how much more will they hate these brutes? They probably expect us to thank them for the slaughter they are about to cause.”

“We must act now,” said the general. “No time for an audience with his Holiness.” He turned to the Reman captain and the Cathayan officer by his side. “Gentlemen, muster your men and make haste about it. Not only do we need to restrain the Campogrottans, we must get between them and the Pavonans. If we act quickly we might prevent this army mortally wounding itself.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B3_zps5acbpajd.jpg)



Causing a Stink

While the arch-lector’s soldiers marched to the Campogrottan quarter, Father Biagino hurried to find young Lord Silvano. The lad had always seemed amenable, and honest – perhaps even too much so for the world of Tilean politicking – and Biagino hoped to persuade him to order his men to stand down.  Near to the Pavonan camp the stinking smoke thickened as the breeze died away and the noisome pall descended to linger a while. Looking around, Biagino quickly realised he was probably too late. There was hardly anyone about, the soldiers had already gone. Outside Lord Silvano’s pavilion there was only one guard, and a handful of wounded men hobbling near the huts.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B10_zpsv2ktkujw.jpg)

“I wish to speak with Lord Silvano,” said Biagino.

The guard, a large and moustachioed fellow, sniffed. “Not here,” he answered, a rudely brief reply considering he was addressing a priest of Morr.

“Then where is he?”

The guard grinned. “Gone to teach the Campogrottans a lesson in manners, but not the kind they’ll get to put into practice later.”

Biagino pelted off through the camp as fast as his legs would carry him. He had never been much of a runner, and the thickly foul air did not make it any easier. But then, he hoped, it may have slowed down the Pavonans too. As he approach the rocky outcrop behind which the Campogrottans had settled, he could hear shouting. Unwilling to hurtle into the middle of a skirmish, he slowed his pace and picked his way more carefully between the huts. The first Pavonans he saw were handgunners, who were making ready their pieces. Halting, he consoled himself that he had not yet heard any shots, and so the fighting had not yet actually begun.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B7_zpsza1pqwgy.jpg)

He stepped back, then crept behind the huts in the direction the Pavonans had been facing. Crouching behind a large barrel he peered over to see what exactly was confronting them. He was much reassured to see that it was a regiment of the arch-lector’s Cathayan Guard. They had arrayed themselves to block this particular access to the Campogrottan’s camp – an opening in one of the many rocky ridges that peppered the land around the city. As the Pavonans were not moving on, he decided there must be other loyal troops blocking the other gaps, no doubt also facing bands of angry Pavonans.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B8_zpsdzt4hasl.jpg)

The Cathayans had formed into a double ranks of crossbows, the first rank kneeling, while behind them stood a body of soldiers armed with the somewhat odd looking halberds they preferred. An officer and a sergeant stood beside them while their banner, bearing a single Morrite key, fluttered above. It was not them doing the shouting.

The Pavonans stood close, so close in fact that a volley from the crossbows now would prove very bloody, very deadly. They were somewhat disorganised, and although neatly liveried in their blue and white (as always), they looked more like a rabble than a body of soldiers ready for battle. Biagino wondered if this was because they were unofficered, acting without orders, without direction. They certainly seemed to lack discipline. As well as the handgunners, he could see halberdiers and swordsmen, muddled together, and all as tense as an angry crowd set upon lynching a hated felon.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B6_zps91wesfbe.jpg)

Some Pavonans were coughing, the stench here threatening to overwhelm them, but all had drawn their blades or were preparing their handguns. Moving around a little Biagino looked to see who was doing the shouting. He had already decided it was not Silvano, but he wondered if the young lord was here, watching, or with another mob at another gap. Perhaps he had lost control of his unruly soldiers, whether willingly or not. Then he could see the man doing the shouting. It was a stern looking fellow, armed with somewhat oversized hammer and pistol, which nevertheless he wielded with ease. By the steel plate hanging at the man’s chest, Biagino recognised him as a provost.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B9_zpsqonxvif5.jpg)

Trust the Pavonans, he thought, to have a provost who stirs up trouble rather than quelling it.

The provost was clearly agitated, moreso than the men behind him, his voice straining to speak so loudly whilst breathing the poisoned fumes fogging the camp.

“This is folly. Why would you defend such villains? You have no right to bar our way. I would see justice done here this day, yet you would protect them. Their very presence here befouls this holy crusade. Perhaps you do not see it for you yourselves know not the glory of Morr. Your lack of faith means a lack of understanding. Besides, what is it to you? This is Tilean business, Pavonan business; you have no right to prevent us meting out justice.”

The Cathayan captain spoke with a heavy accent, and much more calmly than the provost. “We have our orders. You are to return to your camp. The matter is in hand.”

“It is not! While those abominations live justice is ill served. They are enemies, who have raised their hand against our prince. And you would have us leave them be?”

Behind him the Pavonan soldiers’ protests grew louder, yet they did not press any further forward.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6B5_zpsniuotvtb.jpg)

“You are not arguing with me,” said the Cathayan, “but with General d’Alessio, whom your own master has accepted as his military commander, and who serves in turn the arch-lector. It is by the general’s order that we are here. Leave or I will give the order to shoot.”

The Pavonan provost laughed. “The arch-lector is not the apex of power, but holy Morr, who is above all men and their offices, above all gods. It is not for the likes of you to tell Tileans how to cleanse their own land and make it good in the eyes of Morr.” He turned to his men, raising his hand, then shouted: “Handgunners to the fore. Form on me. Two ranks.”

The handgunners began to move hesitantly forwards while the others stepped aside to get out of their way. Just then a sound was heard from beyond the rocks – a growling roar at once both angry and pained. The Cathayan officer turned to look. Biagino was impressed that not one of his soldiers so much as stole a glance, simply standing at the ready awaiting orders, the very definition of discipline. The advancing Pavonans halted, uncertain, straining to peer beyond the ranks of Cathayans.

Biagino could not be certain but it sounded like an ogre.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on September 11, 2015, 06:41:06 AM
That steam adds so much to those pics and story. How long did you had to take pics and how many of them? :ph34r:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on September 13, 2015, 04:48:25 PM
oh dear o dear
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on September 17, 2015, 05:38:07 PM
re "oh dear"

yes  The arch lector's religion means the undead are the enemy. We had a perfectly good crusade going and the first of many glorious victories. If only these foolish living creatures would only stop fighting each other. I'm sure the arch lector is frustrated that they can't just accept the obvious priority to cleanse the world of the undead, and only then could these petty squabbles be dealt with (under his holiness's guidance of course)

This work of art by padre is amazing and possibly unique?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 02, 2015, 11:41:41 PM
It is very apt that Cagicus posted the comment immediately preceding this, as he co-wrote the first part of this next installment. Thank you Cagicus, it was great fun and I like the result. Now I hope to co-write some more stuff with you, and perhaps other players, in the future.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

End of Season 6 General Report, Part 3 of X

The ‘Incident’

Near Viadaza

 “We have arrested all those we could find afterwards, both Campogrottans and Pavonans,” reported General d’Alessio. “They are now in custody awaiting your pleasure. At the very least they are guilty of improper conduct and insubordination, at worst, murder, although in the circumstances it might be unfair to consider them murderers.”

Biagino noticed the general had left his famous broadsword behind, probably aware how inappropriate it would be during a meeting with the arch-lector. That, along with the blue sky, the pleasant surroundings of the gardens of the Palazzo Sebardia and the absence of stinking smoke, made for a very welcome change. Compared to corpse burning in the dark and derelict city streets and a threatening air of tension in the army camp, this afternoon felt most civilised. The palazzo was situated a little south of Viadaza, constructed of the same grey stone as much of the city, and similarly of a design influenced by more northern architectural fashions. A walled moat of calm, deep waters sat to the side, and all around were full grown trees to provide ample shade to those who wished it. There was, decided Biagino, no sign here at all of the nightmarish horrors which had gripped this realm until the vampire lord and his foul forces had been driven out.

Yet it was not possible to forget the war, for the arch-lector’s guards were posted throughout the gardens: crossbowmen watched the trees, while halberdiers stood sentinel at every door and even along the wall of the moat. Nor were they idle, for their eyes were busy scouring the surroundings for any sign of trouble.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep6C1_zpsoaylr4y9.jpg)

“I cannot say whether we caught all those involved,” continued the general. “Some Pavonans may have slipped away before we could find them, back into the fold of the mob gathered around the Campogrottan camp. Those we caught were nearly all wounded. The Campogrottan men had also been badly mauled, leaving as many dead as injured. As for the brutes, there was not one alive.”

“You accounted for all of the brutes?” asked the lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini.

“We think so. There were no sightings of ogres anywhere else in the camp, and the art of concealment is not exactly their forte.”

Biagino laughed inside at the thought of an ogre attempting to conceal himself. It was an idea as ridiculous as the poppet play he had once seen in which snotlings attempted to play chess.

The arch-lector, however, gave a heavy sigh, then spoke the words of a prayer: "Morr guide us, Morr take us and Morr keep us." Looking down at his clasped hands, left thumb over right, he let his eyes lose focus for a long moment while the others stood in respectful silence. Then he turned to fix the captain general with a direct gaze. "Now General d’Alessio. Exactly what did happen at the Campogrottan’s camp?"

For the briefest moment d’Alessio looked uncomfortable, as if a sliver of doubt pricked at him, then he continued in the same matter of fact voice as before. “I hold myself partially to blame, for I had noticed the archers harboured bad feelings towards their brute comrades. I thought it nothing more than that which all men feel when in the company of ogres. Of course, it is obvious now in hindsight. These men were filled with hatred - probably just biding their time until a chance arose. The archers are no more or less than oppressed Tileans, who rose up against brute and foreign oppressors. Campogrotta is a conquered realm, with a monstrous army keeping all under their thumb. Lord Nicolo perhaps even sent the archers away to remove such trouble causers from his realm.”

“If so,” queried the Lector Bernado, “then why did he send two companies of ogres as well?”

“That I do not know," admitted d'Alessio. "Nor, I think, shall we ever know now that the ogres are dead. It may well be that they planned some sabotage of their own, perhaps even to attack any Pavonans or their allies amongst us when news of their brethren’s attack on Scorcio was received? If so, then it may well be a good thing that they have been killed.”

The arch-lector regarded d’Alessio sternly. Like the lector standing behind him he wore a wine coloured, hooded cloak, although the cassock beneath was of a much richer, velvet cloth, decorated with silken braids and golden zucchini. His hands were no longer clasped together as if in prayer, which Biagino took as a sign that his holiness was not in the mood for ifs and maybes. Luckily, the general seemed to notice too, and returned to answering the question.

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“It should all become much clearer once we question those involved - perhaps, by your leave your holiness, in a court martial? Just now it is clear that the Campogrottan men, nearly every one, took the news of the attack on Scorcio as a signal that they should begin the slaughter. As they went about their bloody business they were joined by several Pavonans who had arrived with exactly the same slaughter in mind. The soldiers I sent to isolate the Campogrottan camp prevented any more Pavonans getting in. But it was too late, for although the handful of Pavonans who had already slipped through could not have prevailed alone against the brutes, joined with the archers they had sufficient strength. Nevertheless it was a hard fight, and the men were severely mauled, losing a good half of their number. Both Pavonans and Campogrottans seemed willing to risk all in the attack.”

“Yes. Of course, I see that,” said the arch-lector. “Their homes and families conquered by these brutish creatures. But still. These brutes did Morr's work for a time. And that work is not done yet. I will not see their killers released from Morr's service until it is.

“I understand, general, that military discipline must be maintained, but there is more to this. We have an abomination to the North. Every living being has a duty to cleanse this world of the undead scourge. All right thinking people know this is so. Each life given in this crusade is well received by Morr. Each life wasted in petty squabbles over territory or plunder is an insult to his name.

“Tell me, did Lord Silvano order this attack on the brutes?”

General d’Alessio shook his head. “As far as I know, your Holiness, although my officers have yet to ascertain the details, he does not seem to have done so. Not directly, at least, and he certainly did not lead it. None of our men witnessed him at the camp. His soldiers were disorganised, driven by anger rather than an officer’s commands. It is not known whether he otherwise encouraged the attack, merely allowed it to happen or was entirely ignorant of it. In truth, we have yet to establish even his whereabouts at the time.”

The arch-lector turned his gaze and reached out his right hand in the gesture of free speech. “Biagino! I left many of my trusted advisors in Remas. You have seen much and learned more. I would have your counsel if you would give it. Tell me of Lord Silvano. He joined our crusade eagerly, but does he truly serve Morr? Will he stay with us or shall we let him fly?"

Biagino had spent some time with the Pavonan lord, finding him likeable, open and honest. Whether or not Silvano would order such an attack as this, however, he could not say. Luckily, the arch-lector was not asking that.
 
“The young lord does seem devout in his service to Morr. He has his own confessor, of course, and has never spoken to me of any Sagrannalian heresies or schismatical Pavonian beliefs. I took his willingness to join our crusade as a sign that he was happy to be guided by your Holiness and the true church. In truth, although he never used these exact words, I believe he would much rather fight this holy war against evil than die like his brother in a war of vengeance against the living. Yet …”
 
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Here Biagino faltered and it was the arch-lector who picked up his thought: “Yet will he leave now that Trantio is threatened?”
 
“I cannot say for certain, your Holiness,” admitted Biagino. “But I think he will. He is proud to be the Gonfalonieri of Trantio, even if the honour is clouded by his brother's death. Now he has learned of Scorcio’s suffering and the very great threat to Trantio, he must surely be torn between continuing this holy fight and defending that which he rules. He swore oaths to do both, and in his naivety, I suppose, did not imagine the two duties would conflict. But the boy loves his father, can see no wrong in the man. Filial duty will win out.”
 
The lector of Viadaza stepped forward to address the arch-lector. “We can do nothing to stop Lord Silvano leaving if he so wishes. And in light of his rank, the noble son of the ruler of a sovereign state, we have no rightful authority to try him. Besides, if we did, how would we weigh one oath before the gods against another? If we had evidence that he himself espoused heretical doctrine then we might proceed against him under church law. If he ordered this attack and we chose to see it as the act of an enemy, then we could make him a prisoner of war. In so doing we would be declaring war against his father, which is madness with the vampire duchess north of us and now the tyrant Boulderguts to the south. We have more than enough enemies.”
 
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Biagino was not surprised to hear Lector Bernado talk so easily of the Campogrottan ogres as enemies. The arch-lector had not actually declared them so, yet they seemed keen by their burning and robbing to make themselves enemies of all.
 
“Lord Silvano is indeed untouchable in terms of military law,” said General d’Alessio. “He is the commander of his own brigade, sworn as a willing ally, not as a serving soldier who is duty bound to obey my every command. If he lost control of his men, that does not mean we can prosecute him. If he failed to keep some vow, that only shames him. And even if he ordered the killing of the ogres, that is nothing more than a lord seeking retribution for crimes committed against him. However, with his permission, we can proceed with a court martial concerning his men’s actions, at least to question them.”

“What would that gain?” asked Lector Bernado. “We have a war to fight, general. Why waste time with enquiries?”

When all turned to hear what the arch-lector had to say, Calictus again allowed a long moment to pass, as if he were reaching out silently for some guidance. Biagino wondered if the arch-lector could feel Morr’s presence – not through riddle-filled dreams as he himself experienced, but rather to know the god’s will directly. If a lowly priest such as himself was blessed with divine visions, surely the highest ranking clergyman of the church had access to much, much more? There was no way of knowing, of course. Whether the arch-lector was merely weighing his advisers’ words or waiting for a sign from Morr, no-one else could know. 

When Calictus’ attention returned to his company, his eyes seemed to light up, as if an amusing thought had tickled him. “Good Lector Bernado,” he said, “you have shown your grasp of the situation. I have no desire to do anything more than offer advice and help to Lord Silvano and his father.” He then turned to Biagino. “And good father, not only do I think you see much more than most when you look upon a man, it seems to me that Morr has guided you, blessed you, so that his will might manifest through you. You both speak well. We must recognise the inevitable and move with it rather than against it. We should aim to support Lord Silvano when he moves south to retake Scorcio.

“Might I ask, your holiness,” said Lector Bernado, “how can we make this situation serve Morr's greater purpose?"

“First we must bring this matter of unrest in our army to a close, without making any more enemies than we already have. You may hold a court martial, general. We must be seen to follow a proper process, and the rule of law must prevail. Let the Pavonans and Campogrottans express their anger, explain their justification. Bernado, I would have you attend, for the deed was done within your diocese, and by soldiers serving in Morr’s holy army.”

Both Lector Bernado and General d’Alessio bowed to show their obedience.

“It will be done, your holiness,” said the lector of Viadaza.

“What sentence do I pass when they admit to their deeds?” asked the general.

Again Biagino saw a glimpse of humour in the arch-lector’s eyes. “The Pavonans should be returned to their own brigade to be dealt with as Lord Silvano sees fit. The Campogrottans will be found guilty of misconduct, and will await my pleasure. In the meantime, I shall consider how best to deal with them.”

It was very clear to Biagino that the arch lector already knew full well what he intended to do, and equally clear that no-one but the arch-lector knew exactly what that was.

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(Continued Below)

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 02, 2015, 11:42:30 PM
(Part 3 of X continued)

Court Martial

In Viadaza

The gnomish clerk of the court was bringing the legal preamble to a close, his somewhat squeaky voice being both audible and authoritative despite its inauspicious nature, “… and as the matter to be investigated concerns soldiers serving different sovereign princes, so that none of their own officers has authority over all the parties involved, then General Urbano d’Alessio will himself act as judge, in that he carries the baton of command over all brigades, granted him by the authority of the arch-lector …”

Biagino was not one of those Morrite clergy officially attending the trial, for that honour fell to the Lector Bernado and the lesser priests under his immediate jurisdiction. Needless to say, there were not many lesser priests – two, to be exact. Times had been more than hard for all Viadazans, including the clergy. So much so, in fact, that some of the previously walking corpses cremated over the last week wore grey and red priestly robes, ragged and filthy but still recognisable. That priests of Morr might become the living dead was beyond most Tileans’ imaginations, yet it had happened here in this hellish place.

The square in which the interrogation was to be held was not large, made smaller by the collapse of the building lining its southern side. Biagino presumed the damage had happened either during the recent siege or the earlier fall of Viadaza to the undead. Attempts had been made to tidy the rubble, creating a kind of wall behind which a group of observers had gathered, Biagino amongst them. Several of the arch-lector’s own liveried bodyguard regiment were scattered about the place – a drummer to beat the appropriate flams as prisoners were brought forward or removed, an ensign to bear the arch-lector’s standard, and the rest to escort the prisoners and guard the various portals around the square. A second gnome assisted the clerk, while a priest of Morr was ready with a holy book upon which those to be examined might swear an oath that they would speak the truth.

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As Biagino stepped forwards to get a better look, the first soldier to be examined was being brought into place. As the prisoner and the guard came to a halt Biagino noticed the large stone block behind them, decorated with chains and manacles. Now he knew why this particular square had been chosen – it had obviously served a similar sort of purpose in the past, back when Viadaza was filled with a living populace rather than soldiers and ghosts. The prisoner was a Pavonan, his blue and white quartered garb unmistakeable. Unlike most prisoners Biagino had seen over the years, this man was clean, combed, his linen white and unstained. The court might be going through all the usual motions, but it was obvious that the sort of ‘back-stage’ cruelty and deprivation that was a prisoner’s usual lot had not been inflicted.

Once the Pavonan had been sworn, he was ordered to give an account of what had occurred.

“It weren’t anything,” he said, an element of disdain evident in his tone. “We heard what the brutes had done and decided we ought to teach them a lesson.”

“You decided?” asked the general. “Not Lord Silvano?”

“Lord Silvano was not with us when we heard the news. We knew what must be done without him having to tell us. Besides, to find him out would have meant delay, and we were in no mood for that. They say patience is a virtue, but not always.”

“So you were acting without orders?”

“The brutes were revealed as enemies in our midst, no doubt with some bloody intention to add to the deeds done at Scorcio. We did what was best, and what Lord Silvano would have wished.”

The general raised his hand to silence the soldier, his face registering annoyance. “Never mind what you think Lord Silvano wanted, or what was best. Answer me straight, did Lord Silvano give orders to attack the Campogrottan brutes?”

The Pavonan’s confidence was ebbing. He glanced around as if to look for help. “No, your excellency. He gave us no orders.”

The general gestured to the gnomish clerk. “Write that down,” he commanded.

As he did so, his scribbling hand not faltering for a moment, the gnome raised his bushy eyebrows, registering a kind of surprise. Biagino noticed, and smiled. The gnome was no doubt thinking: ‘What do you think I am doing?’

“Did Lord Silvano in any way indicate that it was his intention that you attack the brutes?” asked General d’Alessio.

“He is Gonfalonieri of Trantio, and Scorcio is his to rule. He would not want the comrades of those who had attacked his own possessions to go unpunished. We did …”

“Quiet!” barked the general. “And listen. This time I want you to answer the question put to you, and only that question. You have ears, use them!”

The Pavonan nodded, now definitely discomfited.

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The general waited a moment, took a breath as if to compose himself, and then asked, “Did Lord Silvano in any way whatsoever encourage, embolden or advise you to do this deed? Did he indicate his happiness at your intentions, or at the least suggest that you might do as you wished?”

“No. He couldn’t, see? Because Captain Minnoli took him away upon some errand before anyone could tell him what had happened.”

Now Biagino understood exactly why young Lord Silvano had not been present at the incident. His men had tricked him away, perhaps to prevent him from interfering, or to ensure no blame could be put on him. Perhaps both?

General d’Alessio was not subtle in his satisfaction. He brought his hands together in a clap and turned once again to look at the gnome. Before he could speak however, the gnome, without lifting his eyes or even pausing his quill pen, said, “I’m writing it.”

Biagino almost laughed at this. Gnomes had often had a comical way about them, a kind of pride, manifesting most often as sarcasm or rudeness. They were very good at what they did, yet men had a tendency to confuse their squeaky voices and short stature with childishness. He could not read the general’s subsequent fixed expression, but he knew the man well enough to know it was more likely to be an attempt to conceal the general’s own mirth rather than anger at the gnome’s impertinence.

General d’Alessio now turned to the crowd. “This man acted without his commanders’ orders, neither mine nor Lord Silvano’s. Lord Silvano bears no blame for the deed. This man speaks for himself and the rest of the Pavonans involved in this incident. It is not my place to discipline another man’s soldiers, and so this man and the others will be returned to their camp, there to suffer whatsoever punishment Lord Silvano sees fit to inflict. They are his to do with as he wishes.” Addressing the guard holding the prisoner’s manacles, he said, “Take him away.”

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Biagino was surprised at the speed at which the investigation had been conducted. Of course he knew that all those officiating had already been briefed as to what must be done, and that the whole event was for show, but he had thought the general might make more of an effort to appear thorough in his examination. Still, there was a war to fight, against a most terrible enemy, and so little time for the niceties of procedure and tradition. He watched as the Pavonan was led away and a Campogrottan brought to stand in his place.

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This man too had an air of defiance about him, like the Pavonan had when first brought forward, but his eyes revealed he was more nervous. He was dressed in a colourful green and yellow doublet and a blue artisan’s hat. His hands were bound before him with rope, and he was prodded into place by an intimidating, broadsword wielding guardsman. Biagino knew this Campogrottan was on much shakier ground than the Pavonan, as he and his comrades had no officers they could be returned to. They had killed their commanders when they killed the ogres!

The gnomish clerk declared that this man had been chosen to speak for himself and his comrades, then read out the man’s name, describing him as a retinue archer. The general seemed intrigued by this, asking, “A retinue archer? Whose retinue?”

“Sir Bruno Dalila, knight of the Hollow Order.”

“There are no knights in your brigade.”

“No, your excellency. The brutes killed them all.”

The general nodded gravely. “And this was the cause of your action?”

“It was, your excellency. Lord Nicolo and Boulderguts have killed or imprisoned every noble in our realm, lord, lady and child, excepting those who managed to flee or hide, which were not too many. They stole the whole of Campogrotta, enslaved every living soul, then they took Ravola to steal all they could from there too. Now they’ve set upon Trantio. They’ll burn the whole of Tilea if they’re not stopped.”

“You have grievances a-plenty,” acknowledged General d’Alessio. “I see that plainly. But you had no orders, and no right to take matters into your own hands. You are soldiers serving this holy army of Morr, and ought properly to have awaited orders. We would have dealt with the brutes as best we saw fit.”

The archer stared down at his feet. Biagino wondered whether the act of rebellion had given the man any real satisfaction, considering all that he had likely lost to the brutes. It was a small revenge for the conquest and looting of an entire principality. The archer could hardly be said to look proud about what he had done. Or, thought Biagino, perhaps he was simply afraid of the potentially brutal consequences of being caught disobeying orders in a time of war?

“Look now,” commanded the general. “You will tell us exactly what happened. Speak.”

The man winced, then began his tale. “News came of what had happened at Scorcio, the brute Gollig one of the first to hear it. He was laughing, which wasn’t like him, and I wondered what was so funny. Then Enzo, who’d heard what had been said, stepped up to him and stuck him with a knife, deep into his belly. That stopped the laughing, but o’course it didn’t put Gollig down. He broke Enzo’s neck with a back-handed blow, then started shouting that we were all maggots, and asking who else wanted a slap. I could see he wasn’t himself, but whether that was the knife still buried in him or because he knew there was going to be trouble now that he and his kind had become enemies of the very army they were serving with, I don’t know. Enzo’s brother, Luca, sent an arrow to accompany the knife, then umpteen lads started filling him with shafts too. Even before he fell some of the others had run into the brute’s tents to cut their throats before they woke. And some managed it, but not all, because the brutes were roused by the noise and began fighting back. A lot of men were killed, we were hard pressed, and it were going bad for us until the Pavonans turned up and joined in the fight. They had halberds, which cut broad and deep, and the blood flowed freely. It wasn’t easy, and a lot of good men died, but between us we did what had to be done and killed every one of them.”

It went very quiet in the square. For a moment Biagino thought that there might be applause for the prisoner, but none came. He sensed it was being held in check - there was probably no-one present who had anything but respect for the prisoner.

General d’Alessio glanced over at the gnomish clerk still scribbling at the paper. Then he spoke: “In light of the cruel tyranny of Boulderguts and his ogres, and their treacherous attack to the south of us, I am minded to excuse your actions. You and your comrades showed courage, and were willing to suffer as a consequence. Also I would have it known that you bear no blame for the attack upon Scorcio. But I cannot forgive your indiscipline. Soldiers should act upon orders and not upon impulse, and so I hereby judge that you will serve a term of parole, under conditions to be set by myself and the council of war.”

“This court martial is adjourned.”

Biagino once again was surprised by the abruptness with which the general brought things to a close. He knew exactly what the arch-lector had ordered – that the Pavonans be released into the custody of their own commander, and that the Campogrottans be freed only on provision that they continue to serve the arch-lector in whatever capacity he saw fit – yet had not realised how quickly such a declaration would be made. Only two out of more than three dozen men had been questioned, and neither had been pressed to reveal anything other than what they wanted to say. Perhaps this was the military way? No room for lawyers and cross examinations; no place for bickering, wrangling or disputation.

Not that he was unhappy about it, for now they could get back the important matter of waging war against the vampires. Or should that be the war against vampires and ogres? 

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on October 06, 2015, 09:34:12 AM
Superbly written and I dread to think how many minis you actually posses. A lot is my guess. ;)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 11, 2015, 10:59:03 PM
(Yes, Xathrodox. .. a lot.)

End of Season 6 General Report, Part 4 of 4

A Letter to Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

To my most noble lord, from your loyal servant Antonio Mugello. May this missive find you blessed by all the gods, in good health and prosperous. I humbly present all that I have learned from my travels and conversations over these last summer months concerning the realm of Tilea. Having carefully sifted, examined, compared and weighted all that I have learned, I humbly believe this report comes as close to the truth as is possible for a mere mortal to ascertain.
..
Arch-Lector Calictus II at last launched his own holy war early this summer, for he personally led an alliance army of his own troops, several Viadazans of note and a brigade of Campogrottan ogres and men. While Duke Scaringella remains Captain General of the armies of Remas, he also remained in the city, and so it is General d’Alessio, the Viadazan hero of Pontremola, who commands this great Morrite alliance army upon the march and in the field of battle. Of course, his holiness Calictus II attends the army’s councils, acting as would a liege lord, but chooses not to shoulder the burden of tactical command.

At the town of Scorcio they halted to dwell a while in the army camp constructed for their use by the Pavonans, and there they were joined by the Pavonan Lord Silvano Gondi, Gonfalonieri of the newly conquered city realm of Trantio. The young lord’s father, Duke Guidobaldo, had left him to rule while he himself returned to Pavona, and there has been considerable debate concerning whether the duke intended his son to abandon the city so soon to join with the army of Morr! Lord Silvano took a substantial brigade of veteran Pavonan soldiers with him, making the conjoined force mighty one indeed. And yet even more was on the way, for another force, paid and sent by Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore, consisting of the arabyan mercenaries known as the Sons of the Desert, intended also to join them. But they were sent too late to reach Calictus this summer, and are now believed to be close behind. They could thus provide a ready source of reinforcements some time in Autumn, and will no doubt be most welcome to the arch lector in light of what happened at the end of summer (which I will detail below in its proper place.)

This holy Morrite army moved quickly to attack and capture Viadaza – or I suppose, as the Viadazans amongst their number would say, re-capturing it. The defeated vampire Lord Adolfo fled away with the ragged remnants of his army using the last remaining ships and boats in the harbour escaping even as the arch lector’s soldiers began pouring in through the breaches blasted by their cannons. The victors then began the horrible business of cleansing the befouled city, burning putrid corpses by the thousand in order to prevent them from rising yet again to fight, and to prevent disease ravaging their camp. Of course burning the dead is not the usual way of the Morrite church, but when it comes to corpses tainted by evil magic apt to stir once again upon unholy nights if allowed to lie in the ground, the church actively encourages cremation. Indeed when there are mountainous heaps of them, I doubt there is any other sensible way to proceed.

This victory brought hope to those who dwell in northern Tilea, being the first occasion  in two years the undead had lost something which they had taken, the first truly effective blow delivered against them. Even when the vampire duke perished at Pontremola and his decimated army retreated from the field, nevertheless the undead dominion widened, for Viadaza was captured and corrupted that very same week - thus the victorious peasant crusaders lost their home even though they won the battle. Now, however, a battle was won and this time the enemy had definitely been pushed back. The vampire Lord Adolfo fled with his tail between his legs, in all likelihood running to his wicked mistress. Perhaps she, being a heartless creature of evil, would kill him as punishment for his failure? Whatever she did, she would surely recognise that her hold on the north has weakened. The victory failed to bring much joy to the Morrite alliance army, however, as they were busy about their nauseous and noisome task in the city. Instead they felt only trepidation concerning when the vampire Duchess would strike.

There are very few alive who can reliably report on exactly what is happening within the far north-west, where the walking dead shuffle and shamble about their foul errands. According to the handful of  brave Urbiman spies who have ventured forth into that hellish domain, the vampire duchess Maria has now established her rule both in Miragliano and Ebino. The first was once her uncle’s realm and would now be hers by right of inheritance if she were still alive; the second she herself ruled before she turned. The Urbiman spies report the undead fought bitterly amongst themselves over the winter and spring months, which is why their advance southward slowed. Most educated men agree this is most likely, for when the vampire duke perished, his lieutenants were left leaderless. Such cruel and vain creatures most likely set upon each other to claw their bloody way to power, and in the end the vampire duchess Maria won the struggle. As to what strength she can now muster in the field no-one knows. Nor can anyone claim knowledge of her intentions, but her realm is large, with a plentiful supply of charnel pits and graveyards from which she can increase her marching strength. Perhaps she had intended Lord Adolfo to hold Viadaza, but now perchance he will instead join her in to increase her marching strength? But I must write no more concerning this in case I might give the false impression that I have any real understanding of these matters. The far north of Tilea remains a darkly shrouded place, despite the vivid nightmares it weaves across the whole of Tilea.

At the end of summer terrible news came to the grand Morrite alliance army’s camp at Viadaza - the town of Scorcio, in the northern part of the realm of Trantio, had been attacked, looted and razed by a large force of ogres led by the Campogrottan Tyrant Razger Boulderguts. This led to a bloody, arguably mutinous, incident in the army camp as the downtrodden men of Campogrotta turned against their brute masters and killed them. They could well have been looking for an opportunity to do this for some time, but until now were hindered by the fact that the arch-lector seemed to consider the ogres a useful and important addition to his force. They were helped by several Pavonans, themselves looking for vengeance over the sacking of Scorcio, one of their young lord's possessions. I have heard it said more than once how these two make strange bedfellows – the Campogrottans being a conquered people, the Pavonans being conquerors. An alliance of convenience, perhaps? Considering the Campogrottan men are merely peasant soldiers, and outcasts from their own realm, it is no alliance of equals. How this internal conflict will affect the holy army of Morr has yet to be seen - their losses in ogres were just as bad in the incidient as in the assault on Viadaza. Yet there is an entire mercenary army of Arabyans on its way to them so perhaps the arch-lector’s field strength can be maintained despite these difficulties? What the arch-lector will do in response is a topic of much speculation. If he considers Boulderguts his enemy, which most folk assume must be the case, then he is close to being entirely surrounded by foes, and cut off from his own city. Will he turn south again now, his fight against the vile undead very much unfinished, or can he risk lingering in the far north to complete what he has begun?

It is a much discussed mystery why the Campogrottan Lord Nicolo and his tyrant ogre Boulderguts sent a force including ogres along with the Morrite alliance army, when he apparently intended simultaneously to attack the Tilean realms also supporting that army. Many suppose that if the ogres had lived they would certainly have gone about some other treacherous, murderous activity. Of course, the Campogrottan brigade set off many months before Trantio was taken by the Pavonans, so it cannot be presumed that the ogres had particular enemies in mind. Perhaps their presence was intended to poison the Morrite army, to weaken it fatally, or at the least to make it unfit to return to Trantio to aid its defence? When Boulderguts discovered the realm of Trantio to be ruled by servants of the Pavonan Duke rather than the Trantian Prince I doubt he would have thought twice about continuing his assault, for why would it matter to him who exactly he looted from? He consumed the realm of Ravola leaving only the barest of bones to show what once was. In truth it was perhaps inevitable that the ogres would turn south to continue to feed their lust for loot. I am loathe to admit that I failed entirely to recognise that Bouldergut's assault on Ravola revealed his true nature, and what (of course) he would do again and again until stopped.

I now wonder whether there is an evil alliance between the wizard Lord Nicolo and the vampire Duchess Maria. It has for some time now been conjectured that Nicolo, impossibly ancient as he is, is himself a vampire. If so, then it occurs to me he may well have been the root cause of the curse that so recently brought Miragliano so low. Perhaps the vampires that have come to dominate the far north were begotten of him? One might counter that vampires lead only the armies of the dead, which means Lord Nicolo cannot be so, but why couldn’t a vampire hire an army of ogres to fight for him? Perhaps he believed them to be a better fighting force than the shambling hordes of undead, and in an urge to gain power by the best means possible, preferred living muscle to magically animated sinews? Perhaps Lord Nicolo recognised that the people of Campogrotta would never serve him, even begrudgingly, if they suspected what he was, and so thought it best to rule through the whip-wielding hands of brutes?

The existence of such a vampire alliance could explain the timing of the attack upon Scorcio, for both sides have gained much - the Campogrottan ogres able to plunder almost freely now that the fighting men of Remas and Trantio have marched northwards, while the Duchess Maria benefits from the confusion, doubt and weakening of the grand alliance army just as it began to get to grips with her newly won realm. Furthermore, my lord, I would ask you to consider this: As the ogres satisfy their hunger - looting, slaughtering, devouring - they leave behind them a wasteland – exactly the sort of ruinous realm that would suit vampires perfectly. Once the ogres are sated and have moved on elsewhere, the undead could simply move in to take possession of the strongholds and raise hordes of servants from the unguarded graveyards and tombs to re-populate the realm. Both parties obtain exactly what they desire. If the wizard lord Nicolo is indeed a vampire, then sending a hired horde of ogres before him to destroy the land could be considered a strategy of terrible and wicked genius. I admit that this is mere speculation on my behalf, for no-one seems even to have witnessed the wizard lord of Campogrotta, not even those Campogrottans who escaped his ghostly yet tyrannical regime (which in itself could lend more weight to the theory that he is a vampire, hiding his face from his conquered people).

The only good to come so far from this situation - and I do not write this flippantly but rather as you commanded my honesty in communications - is that  Duke Guidobaldo’s recent unwarranted, unfair and untrue threats against your lordship, the ogres’ assault upon his newly won territories might well be considered good news, for he must surely now be too distracted to continue his aggression. How can he continue his attempts to inflate his feigned grudge into another reason to go to war and thus further increase his possessions, when a massive force of plundering ogres are even now rending their way through his Trantine possessions? Surely he must now look to defence rather than attack?

...

As the garden of war in the north blossoms with blood red blooms, in the south its tired, browning petals are falling away. The forces of the VMC continue to pursue the scattered remnants of Khurnag’s Waagh. Even though many of the goblinoids apparently dissipated at the ultramontane mercenaries’ mere approach, nevertheless enough remain to require the VMC's continued efforts. The greenskins, however numerous, have been fatally wounded by the lack of a leader to unite them. Such has always been true of goblinoids, who harbour a hatred for each other just as strong as that they feel for men, a flaw that can only be subdued by an awe-inspiring warboss. When leaderless they become more a constant annoyance than a real danger.

As nothing has been heard from Monte Castello in several months, not one boat nor even a lone traveller coming thence, it is supposed that it fell to the greenskins some time ago and that any Tileans who remain there are either dead or held prisoner. No-one knows the fate of Pugno, but its isolated situation, sitting beside the very route many of the greenskins are thought to have travelled from the Border Princes, does not bode well for its survival. Thus it is that even though the VMC are unlikely again to face a grand field army like that which attacked them at Tursi, they may well still have their work cut out if they are to secure the south-eastern parts of Tilea: to make Alcente and Pavezzano safe, and to clear Monte Castello and Pugno of squabbling bands of goblins. It is commonly complained that the VMC will only complete their task if there is profit in it, and that if a goblin infested settlement was irreparably ruined they would simply pass it by as of no interest. I myself am not so sure of this loast contention for they have rebuilt Pavezzano and invited many to settle there under their protection, and that was presumably in a very bad state of repair after its occupation by the goblins of the Little Waagh!  Some others claim that the VMC would be happier bribing the goblins to leave, although most laugh at this suggestion, pointing out that the northerners have fought well enough so far, not only defeating Khurnag's Waagh but somehow finding the time to punish Raverno along the way. These are not the actions of a wary or weak force. If anything, the VMC will become more of a threat once the greenskins are dealt with, for surely they will turn their attentions to other potential sources of profit, and will care not if said sources are in Tilean hands. As is commonly heard on the streets of Pavona: “A foreigner is a foreigner, whether his ears are pointed, his skin green or his accent northern.”

Last I wish to tell you of something that is most likely already known to you. If so, pray forgive me and know that I would be remiss if I did not mention it. The Estalian brigade Compagnia del Sol has begun sending letters to various rulers and powers in Tilea, suggesting that in light of the conjoined threats of vampires, ogres and greenskins, their military skill and strength are surely needed. They boast that through the hard fighting they have experienced in Estalia fighting against the rebellious northern and eastern lords, they have become a much more dependable force than their recently dispersed Tilean cousins ever were, and they claim that they are of at least equal strength. They intend to land agents at the western coast port cities, and have already begun to suggest that one state alone need not pay them entirely, for it might be arranged that two employers might share the cost, perhaps several many sovereign states each paying a mere portion of their fee, so that all can benefit from the protection of a large and potent fighting force which would otherwise prove too expensive for their purses. If then joined by detachments of native militia and troops to further bolster their numbers, an army the likes of which has not been seen for decades in Tilea might be forged. I cannot say whether or not their boasts and promises are true, but as a good many of them are Tileans by birth, and are only called Estalian due to dwelling this last decade in that place, then they could indeed prove to be sturdy warriors in the defence of Tilea.

I eagerly await your further instructions and remain your obedient servant.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on November 12, 2015, 05:20:50 PM
This thread is an epitome of the spirit of Warhammer: sharing into an epic yet human story!  :::cheers:::

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on November 13, 2015, 07:20:20 AM
That's what I've wanted to hear. :D Anyway - great summary. Can't wait for the next season. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on November 13, 2015, 09:31:59 PM
Interesting sunmary, bravo! :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 31, 2015, 03:53:10 PM
The First to Leave
Prequel to the Fight Outside Astiano
Trantio, early Autumn IC2402

On almost any other occasion what they were doing would be considered reckless, culpably so – to ride so fast, almost a gallop, through the city, especially as it was done in the middle of the day when the streets were at their most crowded. But they had orders from the duke himself specifying all haste, and they would not wish to disappoint their employer. What with the duke’s own officers watching their passage, a leisurely ride would not do. They had a reputation to maintain. And besides, it was fun.

Today the streets were even busier than usual, jammed with every cart, coach and carriage the city possessed, all those that could be taken from the surrounding farms and villages, as well as mules, donkeys, asses and servants. All were to be loaded with goods and possessions, and if not already packed, then they had goods piled about them yet to be hefted, whilst more still were dragged from every house. As Gillvas and his comrades clattered along, their mounts’ hooves throwing up sparks from the stone paving, the cluttered narrowness of the way meant umpteen citizens had to throw themselves against walls, dodge hastily into doorways or even duck beneath the wagons. Whereas normally they might gasp and gawp at such riders, elves being a rarity on Tilean streets (certainly armoured elves upon snow white horses) now, however, there was little time for such curiosity, what with the pressing need to avoid being trampled at the forefront of most people’s minds.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio1a_zpsdrtrpwx7.jpg)

It was a shame, thought Gillvas, for he knew that his company was a sight to behold – finer than any gaudily bedecked Tilean knight sweating and grunting beneath heavy plate, more skilful and nimble than all but the very best of human horsemen. The mercenary Sharlian Riders favoured green for cloaks and barding, and even their scaled skirts and horse barding were lacquered to match. Although the rest of their garb and trappings were of more muted, natural hues, the flawlessly white hides and manes of their mighty mounts gave them a brightness which more than matched any red, blue or purple surcoat or shield. Gillvas held his finely carved lance aloft, and like his companions had eyes suitably keen and wits sufficiently quick to ensure he always dipped it just in time whenever they rode beneath a laundry line or balcony. The only thing marking him out from the other riders was that he wore a hood, a habit that had brought laughter from his blonde-haired companions the day they realised he did so because of his black hair. As Phraan had pointed out, it was a dilemma – to hide that which made him different he had to make himself look different. To which Ruven riposted it was only a dilemma because Gillvas refused to wear a yellow periwig.

Gillvas noticed how several onlookers frowned or scowled as they rode by. He doubted that this was because their thundering passage was troublesome, or merely that they were elves, nor even due to them serving Trantio’s recent conqueror, Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona. No, it was because their unusually rapid progress gave every impression that they were leaving the city hurriedly, before everyone else. He couldn’t help smiling at the thought, for it was in fact true. They were indeed leaving, although it was not an escape, it was obedience. While everyone else was to travel south to find refuge elsewhere in the Duke’s realms, the Sharlian Riders were to travel north, carrying orders to the Duke’s only surviving son, Lord Silvano, then to serve him as reinforcements for his own little army.

As they rounded a bend in the street onto the stretch that led to the Ponte Grande and the city’s eastern gate Ruven, riding upon Gillvas’ right, shouted to him: “Have a care, Gillvas. Those mules can give a nasty kick.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio1b_zpsaap7nqwr.jpg)

Nearly all Ruven’s utterances were jests, which before battle could be a welcome thing, and was thoroughly entertaining when carousing in some tavern. The rest of the time it could be bothersome to have to weigh each comment to determine whether it was based on some truth or mere fancy. When he glanced at the mules in question they were pulling away from the galloping horses, no threat at all. Then something upon the other side of the street caught Gillvas’ eye. Two children, hurtling down an alley, now stumbling and halting in surprise at the sight before them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio6_zpsd9gsx6ey.jpg)

Ragamuffin boys come to see the fey riders, their eyes wide and their heads filled with whatever nonsense some uncle or grandfather had told them concerning elvenkind. Better they consider what they have heard about ogres, thought Gillvas, and be about packing or carrying or whatever else their mothers or masters have told them to do. He knew only too much about ogres. Children like that were nothing but morsels of meat to a hungry brute. He felt a pang of guilt, or sorrow, or both, but it was soon diminished by the thought that the population was leaving and so the boys stood a chance of surviving.

Outpaced only by the company’s pennant-bearer, and a little ahead of Gillvas, Captain Presrae rode his ‘unicorn’. It was that beast which caught most eyes, and most probably was responsible for the two boy’s sudden awe. Humans will fall for almost anything, thought Gillvas, and not just children, but full grown men too - if the subterfuge is subtle, the legerdemain apparently legitimate. Only the youngest of elves would look at that beast and think it any other than a wild-mained stallion sporting a false horn of oversized proportions.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio3_zpsitckolhr.jpg)

Amongst men, however, it was an easy deception. ‘You can look, but do not approach too close. Moondown is a proud and fierce mount who allows only a few to touch him.’ One young Reman had spent more than three weeks in the painting of the horse, and sold the likeness for a considerable sum, paying the agreed proportion to Captain Presrae of course. Not once had the captain divulged his secret, or let slip some remark to give the game away. Only his own men knew the truth, and how to mix the necessary glue (so that not once had the huge horn dislodged itself). Even now he rode Moondown in all apparent earnestness, no saddle nor harness nor bridle, like some legendary hero. It was an act that paid dividends. How many mercenaries in Tilea had lords tumbling over each other to contract them? Duke Guidobaldo himself was so taken by Moondown, and the rest of the company, that he paid ridiculously well to hire them, as well as recompensing the arch-lector the full amount in gold which he had originally paid to hire them. The Sharlian Riders had only come to Trantio to escort a priestly emissary with complaints about the War of the Princes, and were meant to return to Remas. But who says no when a duke offers to pay twice for you?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio1_zps3exkmppl.jpg)

“There’s our noble commander that was,” said Ruven, pointing towards the wizard Belastra, acting governor of Trantio. “I still say we are not the strange ones here.”

“We’ll have real Tilean nobility ordering us soon enough,” said Gillvas.

“True. Although t’would be better it were a man and not a boy.”

Belastra had an armoured guard by him, bearing a plume that showed him to be a Pavonan state army captain. He himself carried a wooden staff and wore loose robes of a somewhat arabyan fashion. Unusually for a wizard, he had become lieutenant-governor of the city while the new Gonfaloniere ‘for life’ Lord Polcario was away. Perhaps he had relished the prospect of ruling an entire city state? If so, then receiving Duke Guidobaldo’s orders to strip the city bare of all wealth, supplies, livestock and people, then flee, must have come as a disappointment to him. He had to do so quickly, before the ogres arrived, so it was unlikely he had much time to brood over the vagaries of fortune. The Pavonan duke wanted to deny the ogres all that they enjoyed – their pillaging and looting, their cruel sports and tortures. It just so happened that in the process he had also denied Belastra whatever sports, cruel or otherwise, he had been looking forward to.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio5_zps9dvm66rs.jpg)

Of course there was no scowl from the wizard as they passed. He knew exactly where the riders where going and why, for it was him who had passed on the orders. Instead there was something else writ in his stare – trepidation, perhaps even fear. Gillvas found it hard to be certain, human faces were not easy for elves to read, twisted as they were so often into grotesque distortions of a kind rarely employed by elves. It was likely to be fear, he decided, for the Sharian Riders would have made a vast difference to the martial escort of such a train as was about to leave Trantio. There were very few, if any, could compare to them for outriders and scouts, and as horse-soldiers they packed a lot more punch than any Border Princes stradiot or Estalian jinette, whilst outmanoeuvring any Tilean man-at-arms with ease. (None of which, it so happened, were available to Belastra.) Soon to command a city-sized rabble of refugees, Belsatra must surely have regretted having to send the elves away.

Beside the wizard was a bunch of mercenary crossbowmen, no doubt acting as his guards during such troubled times. It is no easy thing to make the entire populace of a city the size of Trantio abandon their homes and livelihoods. Although some were willing enough, for fear of what was coming, many believed it would be better to defend the city, and of those a significant number went beyond thinking to voicing their opinion, shouting their disagreement, perhaps even swinging a fist to make their point a little more forcefully. No surprise then to find the man tasked with ensuring their obedience so guarded.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio4_zps4gzp7dii.jpg)

The crossbowmen were the last surviving fragment of the once large Tilean Compagnia del Sole mercenary company. Their comrades had all either perished during the War of the Princes or afterwards during the furore over the death of a certain Reman ambassador carrying important letters from the arch-lector requiring immediate cessation of that war. These men, one of two large companies of crossbowmen who had been defending Trantio’s walls, had somehow negotiated the tricky path between being enemies and allies. In fact, they had done so so successfully that they had now been paid twice! Ruven had laughed for an hour after seeing Captain Presrae’s face upon hearing the news. The Sharian Riders had similarly been paid for twice, but they themselves received only one of the payments. These men, formally enemies of Pavona, and hated ones at that, had received both payments: the first to contract them as a standing force for the city, serving to guard the duke’s newly won realm from both unrest within and enemies without; the second came only a few months later when their contract was re-negotiated entirely to make them a part of the Pavonan marching army. For half an hour Ruven’s merriment arose from his description of the captain’s immediate reaction to the news, then for the next half hour it was fuelled by his lyrical exploration of Ruven’s subsequent thoughts as he no doubt wondered how he might do the same. Only Ruven could turn several moment’s silent expression into a tumbling comedic wordplay lasting an hour.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio8_zpsjadfyb9l.jpg)

One of the crossbowmen’s sergeants stood upon the flank gesturing towards the riders with a quarrel. Perhaps he too, thought Gillvas, was waxing lyrical about the very same topic? What else do such mercenaries concern themselves with, if not money? Maybe wine and wenches, but foremost comes money, for it is that which makes the wine more accessible (and better) and the women more amenable.

It was with that thought in mind that he glanced to the other side of the street and saw three Trantian maids watching from the doorway of a mean looking house. One glance and he knew they were exactly the type known to the crossbowmen. One stood apart from others, hands on hips, yellow bodice pulled tight, a wry smile on her face as if what she knew amused her. The others were clutching hens, which made Gillvas smile. The people of Trantio were even taking the poultry with them! If the ogres did not hurry they would find not one morsel of flesh, fish or fowl, not one egg, olive nor even a grain of wheat, and them with the sort of appetite that took whole hogs to satisfy, and thirsts requiring gallons of wine rather than cups. It almost made him feel sorry for them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio9_zps8jclqnxq.jpg)

Then he spotted a grey priest lurking close to the wenches, watching from the semi-concealment of a little alleyway. An ugly sort of man (although there were few men that elves did not think somewhat disagreeable in appearance), with a tonsured pate and garbed in a coarse, woollen cassock and sandals. Gyllvas was not surprised – one could go nowhere in Trantio these days without meeting a Morrite cleric or two. Luckily for him and his comrades, the priests had no desire to preach to elves. He had thought Remas an overly pious sort of place, swarming with the devout followers of Morr wailing about the undead, but it turned out the Pavonans had their own kind of Morrite faith, which they claimed to be the most perfect form. It was certainly the most onerous, for it was expected that one’s every thought must be pure, not just one’s actions, and that each failing in this regard required some sacrifice or penance. What with Trantio having been, according to Pavonan propaganda, under the rule of a cruel and tainted tyrant prince, as soon as the soldiers had captured it a swarm of lesser Morrite clergy followed to begin the work of admonishing, instructing, correcting. The Trantians had not exactly been overjoyed at this holier-than-thou guidance. Right now they must be wondering why they had put up with it at all if they were to lose all they had regardless. Such sentiments probably explained why the priest skulking in the alleyway had a Pavonan handgunner by his side.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio10_zpsywdh1buu.jpg)

“Think of your death, Gyllvas,” shouted Ruven. “There’s a jolly priest watching us.” Gyllvas could not help but laugh, for only the night before Ruven had regaled the company with a cruelly rhetorical discourse concerning how the Reman priests of Morr had marched north into a land of walking dead to face legions in battle, while their brethren, these Pavonan clergy, bravely battled daily to teach the Trantians the correct words for their prayers and the proper procedure for their rituals. Still, it did not matter whether the people enjoyed their reformation, or were happy with their new lords, if they wanted to live at then they had to leave as ordered. Whether they would all go where they have been told to, carrying burdens for their Pavonan conquerors and mercenary guards, that remained to be seen.

At the head of the riders flew their pennant of green silk, bearing a white branch.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/FleeTrantio7_zpsohqxrddh.jpg)

Over the bridge (no mean feat what with the wagons clustered at either end) and out through the gate they rode. As he emerged onto the ancient road Gyllvas glanced back at the walls. I wonder, he thought, will they burn the city? Why leave the ogres shelter when they were so thoroughly removing everything else? What with vampires and ogres, and now Tileans razing their own settlements, it seemed possible the whole northern half of the peninsula would soon be in ruins. It was not the happiest of thoughts while riding northwards.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on January 05, 2016, 12:43:09 PM
A mew year and a new post from you. Tis' a great time indeed. ;) Awesome stuff, as always but then again you know that I'm your no.1 fan. :-P
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on January 05, 2016, 03:49:57 PM
A well done stage setting scene. :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 07, 2016, 09:03:00 PM
What Happened Outside Astiano
Battle Report, Part One

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic1Table_zpsixs5awmx.jpg)
The boys had found a place to talk where they would not be disturbed. As the city was so crowded with newly arrived soldiers and the survivors from Trantio (though nowhere near as crowded as it might have been if things had turned out differently) there were few places left where the boys could talk without being overheard or, more annoyingly, someone telling them they ought to be doing something else. Here in a damp anti-cellar beneath the last remaining ruins of the ancient amphitheatre they would not be disturbed. It was hardly habitable, and certainly no-one would think to sleep there (what with the abundant stories of ratto uomo lurking there. But it seemed fine for an hour’s talk, during the day.

Tommi had been the first to go in, as always; Vitty was the last, as always. Aldo, his head still reeling with all that he had seen, hadn’t noticed if Fran went in before or after him. Not that he cared either way – not like Tommi or Vitty.  Once in he sat down straight away. He was not sure what on, only that it was hard. Tommi lifted some rubbish out of the way, and pushed a rotting crate aside, to clear a little area, while Vitty repeated “Is it alright?” several times. Finally, Fran said, “Yeah, Vitty. S’fine. And anyway, we’ll keep an eye out for trouble.”

As soon as they had all agreed that this was the place to talk, Tommi, the biggest of the boys, turned to Aldo. “You can’t have seen it all. It makes no sense. You weren’t outside and you weren’t on the wall.”

Aldo smiled knowingly. It wasn’t that he was feeling cock-sure, rather that he had always corrected Tommi with that smile and so it just happened. “You’re right,” he said. “I wasn’t in any of those places. I was in the gate tower, and I had a window all to myself.”

“You’re lying,” said Fran. “There was a cannon mounted on that tower which burned up bad. If you were there then why aren’t you burned?”

“And why would they let you stay there?” asked Tommi.

“They didn’t know I was there, because whenever anyone passed through, up or down and either side, I hid in a pile of sacks. I climbed in one, see, and when I heard anything close I closed it over me. Just one more sack in the pile.”

“So why aren’t you burned?” asked Vitty.

“Did you run away before it blew up?” added Tommi in a mocking tone. “Or was the sack a soggy one?”

“Shut up, Tommi. You don’t know anything. The cannon was up above me, a stone roof between me and it. I heard it, felt it.” He hesitated. “I looked up afterwards, when it went quiet.”

The others stared at him with bated breath. He said nothing, his own eyes suddenly seeming to lose sight of his friends, as if he could see something else.

“What did you see?” said Vitty. “Was it horrible?”

Aldo frowned. “Yes. It was. But it wasn’t the worst thing I saw.”

The others just waited now. Aldo knew he was going to tell them about the battle – why else had they come here? But now, just as it was expected of him, he wondered if he could. Then, surprising himself, he suddenly realised he had already started talking.

“The soldiers from Trantio arrived first – all foot and no horse. There were two lots of crossbowmen and a crazy looking engine that looked like a barrel of handguns tipped on its side. Behind them – some way off, was a train of wagons, and lots of people: men and women and kids too. I thought the soldiers would stop outside the walls, to make sure the people and the wagons got in. But they didn’t. They had two grey haired men with them, in robes and carrying staffs – wizards, real ones – who shouted them in, so they marched straight through the gate. Then I had to become a sack again because they came up onto the wall and passed right through the chamber. They went both ways out onto the wall until one lot was on one side and the other was on the other. I thought the engine would come in through the gate too, but one of the wizards shouted there was no time – no time to mount it he said - and so it halted just outside the gate.

“Then I heard screaming outside, so I looked through the window. The men, loads of them, had come away from the crowd with the wagons. It was the women and children who were screaming, and I thought the men were going to run through the gate like the soldiers had done leaving the others behind. But they didn’t. They all came together, marching like soldiers off beside the wall, with some big fella shouting orders.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic3PavonansDeploy_zpsacsorlvo.jpg)

“But they weren’t soldiers. They passed close under my window. They had no swords, no armour; just sticks, pitchforks, clubs, scythes. Sharp and nasty stuff, but not soldiers’ weapons.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic4TheMob_zpsvhnulse9.jpg)

“Where were our militia?” demanded Fran. “They mustered, I know it ‘cos I saw them a-marching through the streets, flag held high. They’ve got proper weapons – pikes, so they must have gone out to fight.”

“I saw them alright,” said Aldo. “Marched right up to the gate they did. But they didn’t go out. One of them wizards shouted ‘Hold!’ and they stopped. I heard him clear ‘cos he was only on the other side of the door to me.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic5ThePike_zps0sjeldlt.jpg)

“That can’t be right,” said Vitty. “What with them Trantians outside being chased. The militia must have gone out to help them.”

“No,” said Aldo, going pale. He sniffed. “I wish they had. I didn’t know it then – I just wondered what was going on. But now I wish they had. They stood on the inside of the gate, and close. I thought it might be some sort of trick.”

The other boys already had an idea why Aldo was upset - there were rumours all over the city - just now, however, they were beginning to get an inkling that the truth might be more horrible.

“There was a lot of banging and clattering up above, where the cannon was” continued Aldo. “And someone shouting ‘Make her ready’. I heard that a few times later on, in between the bangs. The voice got quieter I think, but my ears were ringing so maybe it was just them playing up?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic6Cannon_zps6dkgtxky.jpg)

“Then someone else cried the same words and I looked out the window. Down below the war engine that came from Trantio was being cranked and three iron balls were rolled into it from a plank they had been sitting on. The gunners were Pavonans, blue and white – like the men on the cannon up on top.” Aldo had wondered at the time why the soldiers had made so much effort to get that to Astiano first, before the wagons and the poor folk of Trantio, but he didn’t mention that now.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic7Helblaster_zpsa6qsvibe.jpg)

“Complicated it was, that engine, a mess of levers and gears. I couldn’t make much sense of it so I looked out across the field to the wagons. They were crammed with stuff, piled high, and the horses pulling them looked to be in a bad way. There was no room left for people on them, so a little crowd came alongside them.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic8TheLoot_zps7kexpmez.jpg)

The other three boys looked at each other. They all knew the deadly fate of that crowd, just not the whys and wherefores of what happened.

“Why didn’t they just come in with the crossbowmen?” asked Tommi. “Why’d they lag behind like they did?”

Aldo frowned. “I think they were going as fast as they could. Lots of them were old, or little ‘uns. And the mothers amongst them were carrying even smaller ones. And all of them had bags and other burdens. I think when the men marched off they left their stuff with them.”

Now it was Vitty’s turn to frown. “Why would the men do that?”

“Oh, I don’t think they left to run away. They were still trying to look after them. I think they went off so that they could try to stop the brutes.”

“You saw the brutes then?” asked Vitty.

Aldo stifled a laugh. Not a happy sort of laugh, but the nervous sort that can turn into sobs. “When they came I thought they were nearer than they were, ‘cos they were all so big. Grey skinned, wearing nothing but breeches and plates of armour, and carrying blades the size of doors. And there were monsters in amongst them, like giant, hairy bulls, with more brutes on their backs. I always thought they’d be a bit like the brute caravan guards, except more wild and ragged, all screams and wailing and cavorting about, but they weren’t. They came on in a great long line, like the militia on parade, neat and tidy and in step; and some were shouting with voices like drums, or horns pretending to be drums. I think that’s what kept them in line.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic2OgreDeploy_zpsv7nkxhiu.jpg)

“They didn’t stay so neat, though, lined and ready for a battle. I reckon they saw that some of the of Trantians were already in, and that there was no-one apart from a little company of handgunners and the Trantio mob between them and the walls, so they broke into a run, which made the ground thunder. And everyone on the walls was shouting ‘Steady, steady’ over and over.”

……

Game Notes:
This time I’m gonna put these in but keep them separate from the story sections.
What follows is the scenario rules I had made up and modified over and over:

Forces:
Ogres = 2600 points not including the ruler lord.
Pavona = 750 Empire troops, 350 points of Astiano standing force (Empire) + a free mob of Trantians, guarding 3 wagons (each worth half a campaign supply point in loot) + crowd of women & children (worth half a campaign supply point in loot).

Objective(s):
To enter the city the Pavonan wagons must make contact with the gate.
The ogres must contact with the wagons to count as taking them. Ogres cannot overrun wagons, but halt before the wagon to count as securing the loot. They can then move from there next turn, dragging the wagon (or crowd) with them if they wish.
But … this is a campaign game. The players might have different motives. Maybe destruction? Maybe damaging the enemy’s fighting strength in the hope that a later battle will be easier? And although the players might try for the above objectives if they wish, their priority might well be the survival of an effective fighting force, again for next or subsequent turns. Who am I as GM to dictate what they are trying to do? I just adjudicate the game, take the pictures, write the battle report, and gamesmaster the campaign turns, etc.

Rules:
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Scenario%20Deployment%20for%20Astiano%20Get%20the%20Loot_zpsx5bxd3ne.jpg)
The Ogre deploys in the far corner from the gate section.  If there is insufficient space then the remaining units can arrive in the second or subsequent turns.
The Pavonan fighting forces can deploy anywhere on their half of the table, but as either side’s units are placed, no-one can deploy within 12” of an enemy unit. (First deployment could thus be important – forcing either side back.)
The wagons can be deployed however the player likes, behind the 19” (from the gate) line. This means that one, maybe two, could reach the gate in turn 5, and one, perhaps two in turn 6. As soon as they touch the gate they are removed (counted as having passed through to safety).
The draught horses can be whipped. GM to come up with charts in-game. (See later – yes they were whipped.
The women and children can march move, and are also removed if they touch the gate. Their move rate is 3” (old women, young women burdened with babes and possessions, children, old men). This mob also starts anywhere behind the 19” line.
The ogres cannot besiege the city walls as they have been pelting here at full speed and have not made any ladders to do so. (If they do decide to besiege that would be in the next campaign season turn.)
All other ideas and tactics would be GM’d on the day.

Casualties:
Casualties are recovered as per the ‘drawing armies’ rules. Either side is too focused on the loot to worry about chasing after the enemy, and both sides have lots of opportunities to avoid further fighting (either the defenders getting into the city by another gate or the attackers wandering off to look elsewhere for loot and grub). These rules (see below) mean that the Pavonan player can keep his baggage simply by not letting the ogres capture or destroy it – he does not need to get to the gate. If the ogres haven’t captured it by the end of turn 6, it will be presumed to have got away and gone through some other city gate. Also any refugees or soldiers who are still alive outside the walls will escape back to the city too.

Quote
Drawing armies (i.e. who agree to cease hostilities or cannot fight on for other reasons)
All troops on the table survive. Regain all troops who routed off the table, plus one third of all casualties on the table (rounding down). Lose all casualties from Destroyed units. Dead heroes are recovered on 5+ roll, unless they were “over-killed”. On D6 roll of 5+ recovered characters roll on the Character Injury Chart. Only lose baggage if it was destroyed or captured during the battle.

Battle to Follow
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 10, 2016, 06:54:11 PM
What Happened Outside Astiano
Battle Report, Part Two (Turns 1 and 2)

“They were whipping the draft horses something rotten,” said Aldo. “I could hear the beasts’ braying. Some moved a bit more quickly but others foundered so the wagons got strung out a bit. The women close by had stopped their screaming, but I could still hear the children crying. Then came the first bang and the room filled with dust. My ears went funny, but I managed to get my eyes to work again and I saw one of the hairy monsters was rearing up. I reckon the shot had landed right in front of it, maybe even clipped it.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic12MournfangsBeginAdvance_zpsuaw4i85x.jpg)

“It didn’t slow them down though, and I don’t think the other brutes even noticed.”

“Anyone would notice a cannon shooting at them,” said Fran. “You don’t miss a thing like that. We could hear it from the Via Strogsi.”

Aldo was shaking his head. “You didn’t see the brutes. They had cannons themselves, loads of them. Not on carriages with wheels - they were just carrying them. There were two gangs hefting them. Think about it, if you’re brute enough to carry cannons into battle, you think you’d flinch because one fired from hundreds of yards away?”

Fran said nothing. Aldo knew that all the boys had seen ogres before, even in the city: warehouse guards, bodyguards, and performing in the annual spettacolo. They knew full well the feats of strength the brutes were capable of, even the sort of domesticated ogre who lived among men. Boulderguts’ army was made of the real thing, however, as brutal as they get, from the wild east and beyond. They were surely stronger, tougher, meaner and cruel beyond human measure.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic11OgresFirstMoves_zpstucu4x3d.jpg)

“When the brutes used their cannons it was like thunder rumbling off in the distance. I think they killed some of the handgunners behind the wall around the hut, but it was hard to see which ones were just hiding behind the wall and which had fallen. The Trantian mob kept marching on, and I thought maybe they’re just going to march away, off to another gate, 'cos they were getting really far away from the wagons. The soldiers on the walls were shouting at them, angry words, so I wasn’t the only one who wondered what they were doing.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic10TheMobMoves_zps5t2qkfc4.jpg)

“Then I saw something bright out of the corner of my eye. When I turned to look I saw it was coming right at me, a burning ball as big as the sun at midday, and getting bigger. I ducked down as quick as I could to put the stone between me and it, and I still felt the heat wash over my back. It didn’t burn me, 'cos it wasn't really coming at the window - it was aimed at the battlement.”

Tommi was agitated. “That’s when the cannon blew up!”

Aldo shook his head. “No, not then.”

“You just said it was,” insisted Tommi.

“No I didn’t. I just said there was a ball of fire. It hurt the crewmen – I know that ‘cos one of them was screaming. But another was shouting, ‘Cover the budge barrel’ and ‘Douse the carriage’. Then the screaming stopped and the voice said ‘Make her ready’ again.

"When the smoke had cleared a bit, I looked out the window again. The wagons were slowing down now, the horses stumbling. Some women and old men had fallen down and were being dragged up by the others. I could hear a strange chanting from the wall at the side of the chamber, then another voice almost the same from the other side, and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was the wizards, it had to be. They were conjuring up magic and it made me feel dizzy, but I had the window to hold onto so I watched to see what would happen.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic9Governor_zpsq1ijiv0x.jpg)

“When the chanting stopped, at first nothing seemed to happen. Then I saw it. The giant bull monsters, which had moved ahead of the other brutes, were slowing down, and the foot were catching up to them. I knew it was the magic that had done it because the brutes on their backs were thrashing the reins and beating at the heads, but the breasts were stumbling as bad as the horses on the wagons; not just the one that had reared up at the roundshot, but all three of them.

“Just when I thought they really were leaving, the Trantian mob turned, swinging around to face the enemy. I think they wanted to get at the brutes from the side, to lure them off from the wagons and the womenfolk. Way up ahead the little line of handgunners fired again, but the sound of it was nothing compared to the blast of the brute’s handcannons.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic13TheMobTurns_zpsmlhv0068.jpg)

“It really looked like the wagons had a chance now, if the horses could be kept on their feet and pulling …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic14HurryUp_zpskdw4l7rr.jpg)

“… but they were so slow it was horrible to watch. When the gun above me went off again it made my head feel like bursting and it started my ears a ringing. I had to rub my eyes hard to make them work this time, and now I saw one of the monstrous-bulls on the ground.”

Vitty was nodding. “Yes, yes! They killed it. I saw its corpse from the wall after the battle when I took wine up to the men on the wall, umpteen crows a-feasting on it.”

“It was the cannon," agreed Aldo. "I thought the crew would start cheering but I couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe they did? Maybe they couldn’t hear it themselves? I went back to watching and I saw the handgunners  running away. They weren’t cowards, no way – they'd been up closer than anyone else – they just knew staying up there was stupid.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic15HandGunFlee_zpsdzcbvuqe.jpg)

“But they’d left it too late ‘cos a bunch of brutes in the middle of the line, the closest to them, were running too and they came on so much faster than the men. When the brutes caught up with them they just ran right on, right over them, the handgunners disappearing underneath. Then the brutes stopped, like they wanted to take a breath or two and have a look around.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic18BouldergutsAndGang_zpsx3nyeez7.jpg)

“Those ones looked meaner than all the others. They had the biggest weapons, swords bigger than the sails on a windmill, and a hammer that looked like it could smash the city walls down.”

“Could it?” asked Vitty, tears welling in his eyes.

Aldo expected to hear Tommi or Fran laugh but they didn’t. They were looking at him just as intently as Vitty.

“I dunno," said Aldo. "Maybe. But the brute carrying it would get stuck with hundred bolts if he tried.” This seemed to reassure Vitty somewhat. “The rest of brutes were someway behind this front lot now, all bunched up, getting in each other’s way.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic16GetOutTheWay_zpsgwwffisq.jpg)

“The Trantian mob were now the closest to them. They didn’t charge though, they just stood there, waving their weapons around. They didn’t have a flag to wave; they didn’t have drums to beat; but they were doing their best to look like they meant business. They had to be brave men, ‘cos there were four brutes in front of them carrying those cannon barrels …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic17NotYet_zpsjaxall5x.jpg)

“… and they hadn't fired them yet!”
 
…………………………………………
Game Notes (end of turn 2):

When the Pavonan player whipped the draught horses, I made up a quick D6 chart favouring an increase in speed but with the possibility of hurting the horses too much. Two wagons went 2” faster, one went 1” slower. I had warned the player that next turn there would be another chart to reflect the consequences of this potentially cruel treatment, and that if the whipping continued there would be an even more potentially harmful chart. When the whipping stopped second turn, the player nevertheless rolled badly for all three wagons and they moved 2” instead of 4”. Overall, he had gained nothing, in fact one had fallen behind where it would otherwise have been.

In turn one, when the Firebelly ogre cast his fireball spell at the cannon, he miscast and went down to level one, losing the spell in question. (This was a sign of things to come.)

In turn two I got really excited when the Mournfang unit failed its first panic test, but it passed its second (12” from standard) and the drama was not to be.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 17, 2016, 04:59:53 PM
What Happened Outside Astiano
Battle Report, Part Three (Turns 3-6)

“The Trantian mob now went straight towards the brutes with the cannons.  Not running, just walking. The big fella was shouting but they were too far away for me to know what he was saying, even if my ears hadn’t been ringing so bad. They kept together, packed tight, and there were so many of them I thought maybe they could beat the brutes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic19BringEmThisWay_zpsqinplei1.jpg)
 
“The women were close to the gate now - a few more steps and they’d be through. Some soldiers on the wall were shouting, ‘Hurry up,’ and stuff like that. I wondered if there was a prayer I could say to help them, but all I could think of was my Morrite prayers and it didn’t seem right praying for their souls like they were about to die. Then I heard a clackety sound - the Pavonans below the window were cranking the weird engine. One of the crew poured powder into a funnel and another blew ashes off a matchcord on a linstock. They were going to shoot it.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic20NearlyThere_zpsznymi8jo.jpg)

“I wondered if it would be louder than the cannon, what with all them barrels, but it was outside not overhead, and besides my ears were already ringing so bad I doubted it could hurt them much more. The wagoneers were whipping more cruelly than ever– there was blood on the horses’ hides. “Another boom sent my head a-spinning again. When I looked out to see if it was the engine below there was no smoke and the crew were hopping about, agitated. I think it was broken, ‘cos they hefted it up and dragged it towards the gate, getting right in the women’s way. The boom must’ve come from the cannon on top, but when I looked I couldn’t see where their shot had gone.

“The ogres were really close now …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic22UsCloseThemClose_zpstqxucelb.jpg)
 
“… and the ones near the Trantian mob laid into them. It was horrible. I saw two men hurled through the air like nothing more than dolls - they hit the ground and didn’t move after that. One of the cannons went off right in their midst, which send more spinning out the back, and others staggering out like drunk men. None of the brutes fell, and in a moment the Trantians were running. The brutes went after them, their blood up. If it weren’t for their heavy iron burdens they would’ve caught them and killed more, but the Trantians outran them back towards the wall.

“The hairy bull monsters were close too. They had umpteen horns on their heads and their mouths looked like the gargoyles on the Church of Santo Anredo the Furtive. If my ears had been working I bet I could have heard them snorting. The brutes on their backs were riding so high I wondered what tricks they used to get up there.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic23NowThereWereTwo_zpsaia3e7e5.jpg)

“Then it happened,” said Aldo, before going silent. He covered his face with his hands, and even though that meant they could not see it, the other boys knew he was scrunching it up.

Vitty put his hand on Aldo’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

“No,” said Tommi. “He does have to tell us. He said he would.”

Aldo wasn’t really listening to the boys, but he did notice they had stopped talking. He steeled himself and the words began once more. “There was smoke coming up from under the window, and I thought maybe the weird engine was on fire. I was wrong. The smoke was coming from the crowd of Trantian women and children. It was as if someone had dug a fire pit all around them, set it alight and then dumped damp straw on it to make thick, white, heavy smoke. They stopped, wide eyed, like they didn’t know what to do. It all happened fast, I know that now, but it felt horribly drawn out. Sparks flickered in the smoke, then changed into flashing veins.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic24SmokeThenFire_zpsm8qlrtq0.jpg)

“I think the soldiers on the walls were shouting again, because some of the children looked up. One of them saw me. He didn’t look frightened, just bewildered, and he waved at me! Before I could wave back the smoke itself burst into flames, becoming a wall of fire. Even at the window it felt like a torch being held a foot from my face, but I had to keep looking. If I’d been down on the ground it would have been bad enough, knowing the women were inside that burning wall. Being above them, I could see them all. A few of those on the outside began screaming, batting and patting at the flames on their skirts and cloaks, or on other people’s clothes, and this made the others push inwards, forcing themselves backwards even though some fell underneath their feet. They were crammed together, trying to push past each other. It took them a moment for them to realise the fire was all around, not just on one side. The Pavonans pulling the engine just carried on. They were right beside the horror, yet still kept dragging their burden, even when some of the women tried to run through the flames and came out ablaze, collapsing beside the soldiers. Then the gun disappeared under the window, through the outer gate, so I went over to the grate on the murder hole and looked down to see it below. I could hear the sounds coming up through the hole in the stone, even with my bad ears. Someone shouted, ‘It’s in!’ and then I heard the clang of the outer gates shutting.” (Aldo was shaking his head as he spoke.) “I couldn’t get my head around it. The wagons were still outside, the women and children, and so close. I thought it had to be some clever trick. But it wasn’t, and I knew it because the walls went quiet, and the men down below the hole stopped moving altogether. None of the soldiers were shouting any more. They’d closed the gates and weren’t planning on opening them again.”

Fran’s face screwed into an angry frown. “So they decided to save the gun and not the people?”

Aldo nodded. “The Trantians were frantic, umpteen were already trampled, then they lurched all of a sudden to one side, which turned into a running leap through the fire and out the other side, where they fell, writhing and burning. Only two got past the mess of dying folk, a small boy and a man with his arm in a sling. I don’t know why they were so lucky.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic25FewSurvivors_zpsompzvr8s.jpg)
 
“Outside the brutes had caught up with the wagons.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic26GotIt_zpsfzdw5e3b.jpg)

“They swatted the wagoners aside and even though the cannon sent a ball right into them and the crossbowmen on the walls showered bolts down, felling three of them, they just turned the wagons around and began lugging them away, as if they cared nothing for the shooting. I saw one who was dragging a dead wagoner by the leg turn around to come back and grab one of the dead women by the hair. He dragged them both away, the bodies jolting along behind him, the woman smoking, with three bolts hanging from his back and others in his belly.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic27AndOff_zpsmykqxqt1.jpg)

“The smell was bad, like burning hair, and then there was another stink like brimstone, and flames curled through the window from above. A burning man fell right past, without a sound. I knew something bad was happening, and I wanted to get out the tower, but as soon as I went towards the steps there was a massive boom, more than one I think, and the whole tower shook, and it knocked me to the ground. I don’t know how long I was down, but when I got back up I went to over the window – I don’t know if I knew what I was doing. It was like a dream. I couldn’t hear a thing now, but I could see. Outside the brutes were moving away, but one of them had stopped and turned. He was covered in paint, or tattoos, and he had some sort of mask on his face. He was dancing, his arms up in the air, and then he suddenly jerked to one side and … disappeared! He was gone, like he had jumped through a door. But there was no door.”

The other boys were all staring intently at Aldo. Vitty’s mouth was hanging open, while Tommi had has hands locked behind his head like he was holding it in place. Talking about it brought back the crazy feeling Aldo had felt at the time, and he now had to stifle a giddy sort of sob. He did not entirely succeed.

“That’s when I went up to see what had happened to the cannon. Like I said, it was like a dream and everything felt unreal. The cannon was there, all burned, and the crew were there, still burning, and the smell was worse than ever. So I said sorry, and went back down again. Back at the window I could see that the brutes who weren’t stealing the Trantian wagons were standing their ground, shooting handgun sized pistols and their carriage-less cannons at the walls.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/AstPic28BlastAway_zpsqdfoii4r.jpg)

“Shots pinged at the stone around the window time and again. The flecks of stone kept stinging me.” As he spoke Vitty reached out at touched one of the scratches upon his cheek. Aldo didn’t notice. “They shot again and again,” he continued, “and the men on the walls sent crossbow bolts raining back at them. Twice I saw flaming balls streak out from the wall and splash into the brutes.

“And then all of a sudden the brutes just upped and left. I couldn’t hear what was going on on the walls but then one of the soldiers appeared at the door. He looked right at me, so I jumped over to the stairs and ran down.”

“Did he chase you?” asked Vitty.

“No. He was too busy,” said Aldo.

“What’ya mean, ‘busy’?”

“Spewing his guts up!” answered Aldo.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Game Notes:
Three times Pit of Shades was cast on the ogre Tyrant and his unit. Twice it was dispelled but once it was successful. If the player (Jamie) had failed his test his own player character (Razger Boulderguts himself) would have been lost. The death of a player’s own PC always causes difficulties in my campaigns, in that the player then usually ends up getting a new character, who isn’t necessarily in charge, or, if they are, has a bunch of problems to contend with as a consequence of the previous character dying.  The exact nature of the problems and difficulties to overcome depends on the circumstances and all sorts. (NB: The boy Aldo, our NPC eyewitness in the above story, didn’t notice the failed Pit of Shade spells (of course), but nor did he notice the successful one either – when that one occured he was going up the steps to see what had happened to the cannon up top.)

The description of the burning crowd of Trantian women was my ‘take’ on the fulminating flame cage spell the firebelly ogre wizard was using. I know the 8th ed. book describes rods of fire shooting out and forming a cage, but (and I do know it is silly to say this) that sounded silly to me! So I turned it into a wreath of smoke manifesting around the unit which then transformed into fire – which just happened to fit the photo of the cotton wool we used to represent the spell on the tabletop.

And yes, it does sound very cruel of the Pavonans to close the gate on the Trantian civilians and let all that horrible stuff happen to them but … the player (Matt) had his competition wargame campaign head on, filled with considerations of points and strategies etc. He always looks at the game this way, which is why his game-world alter ego seems aloof and heartless, which is why I describe him as aloof and heartless. The Trantian women were worth 0.5 Supply Points to him, a value which could be turned into 100 pts of troops. BUT, the helblaster was worth more. So when it misfired he cut his losses and dragged that in.  Then he closed the gate to ensure that there was no way this game would turn into an invasion into the city by the ogres. If they got in that would likely mean he lost the whole city plus all his forces there, and right now.

You might wonder why he played things in such a way that the wagons and men didn’t even have much of a chance to get in. He chose to place virtually all his fighting strength inside the walls (bar the handgunners, technically a detachment but house-ruled as allowed to be out at the hut, and the Trantian mob). The Trantian mob, however, cost him nothing – they weren’t part of his forces, and they weren’t carrying any Supply Points (unlike the crowd of women), and he couldn’t use them as soldiers at any other time, so he used them disposably. The wagons were worth 1.5 Supply Points altogether, but if he tried to protect them by having troops outside the walls the potential losses to his own forces would be much more expensive. Why save 2 Supply Points of loot (etc) from Trantio by losing more than 2 Supply Points worth of troops?

I think the following summary information should shed some light on who came out of this squabble best.

After calculating recovery of troops according to the campaign rules the Pavonan player had lost their 2 Supply Points (worth 400 points of troops) as well as 230 points of troops. So, 630 points down on the start of the game. The ogres had gained 1.5 Supply Points (worth 300 points of troops) but had lost about 500 points doing so (including their Firebelly wizard and one of their Mournfangs). So they were technically 200 points down on the start of the game.

BUT the ogres are a long way from home, and they cannot turn the 1.5 Supply Points into reinforcements unless it is at one of their settlements. They can consume it as ‘upkeep’ (a game mechanic to keep troops existing supplied in the field) but their field strength is effectively down by 500 points, whereas the Pavonan player managed to save the bulk of his Trantian garrison soldiers (crossbow, two wizards, helblaster) and still has the Astianan pike militia. He also still has Astiano.

Who now has or can gain the upper hand really does depend on what happens next, and depends upon proximity of reinforcements and relief, as well as other strategic considerations. Razger Boulderguts’ force has been noticeably weakened, and his mercenaries ‘Mangler’s Band’ whereabouts are unknown (well, to everyone else, possibly not to him), whereas if you don’t count the loss of Trantio (which was possibly un-saveable) the Pavonans have lost only a cannon, 6 handgunners and 6 crossbowmen, and the first two of those were part of a standing force and so could not have served in a field army.

So, tactically, sacrificing the wagons and women while chipping at the ogres’ fighting strength could have been a sensible move. However, Matt is going to have to employ considerable political and diplomatic savvy if he doesn’t want the Pavonans to get a reputation for being cruel and heartless. I suppose he is lucky that his own player character, Duke Guidobaldo, was not present. Then again, it is possible he doesn’t care about gaining such a reputation – fear can be a useful strategic weapon too!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on January 18, 2016, 04:09:13 PM
Who now has or can gain the upper hand really -- -- depends upon proximity of reinforcements and relief, as well as other strategic considerations.

A proper Kriegspiel you've got there!

Always enjoying the read.  :-)

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on January 18, 2016, 08:47:33 PM
Who now has or can gain the upper hand really -- -- depends upon proximity of reinforcements and relief, as well as other strategic considerations.

A proper Kriegspiel you've got there!

Always enjoying the read.  :-)

-Z

I second that! :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 11, 2016, 06:41:15 PM
Thank you Xath and Zyg!
...
Morr Divided
Viadaza, early Autumn, IC 2402

At first, Biagino had not thought it unusual that a fellow priest should wish to speak with him in private. When he discovered it was to be a secret rendezvous with a Pavonan priest by the ancient ruins at the side of Lago di Scandarro, that did strike him as odd. Perhaps it was the young messenger carrying the invitation who stirred up his suspicions? Although the lad had looked like a gangly novitiate, barely able to stand still for more than a moment, he was tonsured and wore a cassock so he must at least have made his temporary vows. The purportedly schismatic Pavonan church had less strict requirements concerning the age at which priesthood could be bestowed. In the days of the Trantian Sagranalian sect there had been a veritable army of boy-novitiates. Biagino had heard it said on several occasions that the Pavonan schism was an off-shoot of old Father Sagrannalo’s theology, of a kind that fortuitously permitted the noble and rich not only to remain in power, even fortifying that power. The giddy boy-priest made him wonder whether this meeting was an attempt to draw him into some radical Pavonan design. 

Of course, he let none of this dissuade him. Considering all he had experienced, to now shy away from merely speaking with a fellow clergyman, even in secret, seemed ridiculous. If the priest had bad intentions, then it was best that Biagino learned of it; and if the man proved to be a true servant of Morr, then that certainly required his attention. Either way, he must play along.

It was late afternoon when Biagino approached the tumbledown temple. All was calm, the lake waters adding to the peacefulness. Were he still a boy the chance to sit by the water’s edge and skim stones would have been irresistible. The only urge that vaguely tugged at him now was to take advantage of the quiet, to lie down and sleep. That would mean dreaming, however, which for him was not at all restful, for in sleep his mind ran fast and deep into realms different in both time and place, there to reveal horrors. The urge to rest was a remnant of his youth - no longer an activity his to enjoy.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MorrDivided1_zpskr3aejwi.jpg)

There were four men waiting. The priest who had invited him, Father Claudio, was immediately obvious: a large man of many chins, clothed in a grey, course, woollen cassock, yet so well fed that he was likely to be a priest of some authority, standing ahead of the others and elevated a little by the lie of the ground. There was also boy-brother Biagino had already met, while the other two were either lay-brothers, flagellant-dedicates, or some admixture of both. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MorrDivided2_zpst1fnnnxm.jpg)

The boy-brother carried an axe, more tool than weapon, held in such a way that it was clearly intended as the latter. One of the dedicates had a very vicious looking, barbed mace, and a lit torch in his other hand. It was not yet dark, so why the fire Biagino struggled to guess. (Had they made their way here through some underground tunnel? Were they intending to burn something, or scare wild animals away? Neither theory seemed likely.) The other dedicate lurched drunkenly, his arm extended as if to steady himself against some unseen support. It occurred to Biagino that the man’s condition might be due to over-exuberance in his self-administered punishments – a common cause of injury or worse in flagellants.

Father Claudio had apparently been engaged in prayer as Biagino arrived, and now gestured the conclusion of his prayers by bringing his hands together. “Good day to you, Brother Biagino,” he said. “Holiest Morr protect and guide you and yours. Are you alone?”

“There’s just me, brother,” Biagino answered cheerfully. “Why, were you expecting others?”

Father Claudio simply smiled, shaking his head so that his jowls wobbled. “You have the ear of the arch-lector, yes?”

Biagino had expected this, just not so soon.  Ever since the raising of the Viadazan crusade army he had received appeals, requests and entreaties of all varieties, to be passed on to those in power, whether that be military, secular or clerical. It was rare that petitioners were so abrupt, however. He chose not to answer and instead asked, “You’ve come from Trantio?”

“Sadly, yes, we have,” said Father Claudio. “A terrible thing, the fall of such a great city to plundering brutes. It greatly shames Tilea that such can happen, yes.”

Biagino wanted to ask, ‘Was it much worse than the fall of the city to the Pavonans?’. Instead he said, “There are wicked foes all about. This is not an easy time for Tilea. Yet Khurnag’s Waagh has been defeated in the south, and the vampires in the north now face our holy army, having already lost a battle. If the princes in between would stop squabbling amongst themselves and deal with this Razger Boulderguts then all would be put right again.”

“Squabbling? Ah, hasn’t it always been thus - the way of things in Tilea, yes? The goddess would diminish to nothing if it were not so. Yet it is one thing for Tileans to wrestle over matters of honour and revenge; another thing entirely for orc, vampire and ogre to loot, burn and murder. Our Duke Guidobaldo knows full well when it is time to put aside territorial disputes and slights against his family and his people, and instead make a stand against evil.”

The duke certainly took his time to come to this realisation, thought Biagino. “It is a great shame that the realm of Trantio had to fall, not once but twice, and the second time to be left abandoned and ruined. Where have its people gone?”

Father Claudio gave no indication that he recognised any implied criticism. “Those who did not perish fled – some south to Astiano, some west to Remas, and some – as you can see – north to Viadaza.”

“Come to join our holy war against the undead?”

“Come to ask the arch-lector to recognise the war is now made larger, and that he cannot leave central Tilea to its fate while he completes his vow to destroy the vampires in the north. To do so would be folly, yes, for there would be no home for his victorious holy army to return to, nothing left of what they are trying to defend.”

“So you want me to ask the arch-lector to commit forces to fight against the ogres?”

“He must. Not to do so would be folly.”

Biagino began to wonder whether Father Claudio was working entirely on his own initiative, as his words and the Duke’s actions did not sit well together. “But the duke himself has ordered that his son and the Pavonans force he commands continue in the service of the holy army of Morr.”

“As is only proper,” replied Father Claudio, “for Duke Guidobaldo is Morr’s truest servant, and his son has made a holy vow. The arch-lector has other forces, however: his garrison at Remas, a whole army of mercenary Arabyans already bound to his service, and plenty more mercenaries available for employment. My lord will do all he can to defeat Razger, that goes without saying, yes, but if his strength should prove insufficient it is not only Trantio and Pavona that will suffer. Boulderguts cannot be ignored by Remas, nor can the fight against him be delayed, whether that be until the war in the north is won, or until Razger is before the walls of Remas.”

“The arch-lector is guided by holy Morr,” said Biagino, “divinely inspired to know when and how best to act ...”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MorrDivided4_zpsnwyd29nc.jpg)

“… Yet you are right, he cannot know the desires of Tilean princes unless he is made aware of them. Holy Morr concerns himself with the fight against the undead, guiding us securely to his garden so that we may rest undisturbed for all eternity. To him it matters not when our end comes, only that we do not succumb to evil after our death. It is for us, his priests, to concern ourselves with the living, for we ourselves are living and cannot do otherwise. Yet it is not right to hasten our own end, for Morr wishes to take us when he is ready, not when the servants of foul gods’ desire our deaths.”

Father Claudio chortled. “I thank you for your sermon, brother, but I too am cognizant of the church’s teachings.”

The torch bearer raised his arm a little causing the flame to sputter audibly. His eyes were glaring, sunk deep into his face like that of a starving man, yet his bare arms revealed muscles a-plenty. “When Morr tests us,” declared the man in a Trantian accent, “it is no easy thing. He doesn’t play with us, tickle us, tease us, like a loving mother would her infant child. He teaches us through suffering. We become strong through those trials, and so ready to thwart any necromantic curse upon our death. The undead are the enemy, Razger’s ogres are the test. To fight both is not easy because to serve Morr is not easy.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MorrDivided5_zpsaapzozd3.jpg)

Biagino now knew for certain the man was a flagellant-dedicate, for his words contained the mantra of such creatures. Besides, only someone filled with an agonising commitment to Morr would fail to baulk at interrupting the conversation of two senior priests. He was probably a captain amongst the flagellants.

“My companion Brizzio knows the truth of it,” said Father Claudio. “It is scarred into his flesh. We must indeed fight both undead and ogres. If we fail against the ogres then Tilea is burned, the dead are unguarded, and the vampires will work their evil more easily, raising wicked legion after legion of to serve them. The fall of Trantio is most assuredly a sign of Morr’s displeasure. It is clear now that our lord’s removal of the tyrant prince was not punishment enough for the people of Trantio, and that Morr saw fit to allow the city to fall completely, despite our worthy attempts to cleanse it. All Tileans must work together to prove to Morr that they are indeed deserving of his love. We cannot rely on Morr's promises without obeying his commands, nor can we expect to enter his garden without accepting his wrath. You must surely recognise, yes, that Morr is not merely the king of gods but the god of gods? If the lesser gods think to test us, how much moreso the god of gods?”

Biagino looked at each of them. One dedicate with his crazed expression, the other reeling unsteadily, the boy-priest hopping from foot to foot as if upon a hot griddle, and Father Claudio staring down at him like a disapproving teacher. These were indeed disciples of Pavonan schism, Claudio had openly admitted it. They were strange in their belief as well as their ways. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell them this. Not when he was here alone, unarmed apart from his hidden stiletto. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MorrDivided3_zps5bnocnoo.jpg)

“Your request would be taken more seriously if presented formally and with proof of Duke Guidobaldo’s agreement,” Biagino advised. And if you and your companions were not schismatic fools, he thought.

Father Claudio nodded. “That can be done, yes. I shall speak with Lord Silvano for he knows his father’s wishes. If he knew also that the arch-lector was likely to listen, then he himself would present our case.”

Biagino now wondered who it was had most likely sent these men to speak to him. The young Lord Silvano had not shown his face at the army’s councils since the trial of his men for their ill-disciplined attack against the Campogrottan ogres. It had been supposed that he was wracked with indecision concerning whether to leave and return southwards or stay with the holy army of Morr. Perhaps instead it had been the youthful embarrassment at having to admit that he had lost control of his troops, while that they had lured him away so that they could do what they desired? Mind you, knowing the boy’s family, it might instead be that he was annoyed at himself for not having given the order for the assassinations. And if neither of these, then it could be a matter of pride – the need to know his request will be taken seriously rather than risk being shamed by a brusque refusal. Whatever the truth, it seemed likely these men had been tasked with obtaining an invitation from the arch-lector to attend upon him, thus saving the boy’s face, and allowing him to present his father’s wishes.

Taking leave of the party, Biagino returned the way he had come. He decided that Lord Silvano's inexperience must be to blame for the bizarre and round-about method employed to gain an audience with the arch-lector, if indeed that is what it was. It also occurred to him that the arch-lector, the very definition of experience, should perhaps have recognised the need to reassure Polcario that his presence was still desired at the council table. Once he began to ponder the request to assist the fight against the ogres, however, any clarity he was feeling slipped away to be replaced with a heady concoction of doubts, fears and frustrations, riddled with images from half-remembered, and less than half-comprehended, dreams. Was this the time, as Tilea faced doom at the hands of vampires and ogres, to pander to schismatics? Could this be a gangrenous rot growing at the core of the Tilean church of Morr? Was this the beginning of the end of the joint-rule of the lawful gods in Tilea?

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on February 15, 2016, 08:57:08 AM
That terrain back in the background is great. How did you managed to do the blue sky? Some fabric? As usual, great stuff! :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 15, 2016, 09:40:48 AM
Thanks Xath. The blue sky is a big piece of card - I have two blue shades and a star field. Very amateur but works most of the time. This card looks a bit creased in the photos above (which I didn't notice until now) so I might not use it again.

I'm a bit embarrassed just now 'cos I've done some pictures for the next little story piece and they seem to have come out well, but I used a new technique of scattering flock to hide the bases and the black edges I put on all my bases for some crazy reason. After the photo I just swept the flock back up into the pot. Quick and easy. The embarrassment is due to not having worked out this technique before. All those campaigns, all those thousands of photos, and I've never thought of this really simple technique.

Also I just noticed this week for the first time that my eyes might be growing older as I am noticing detail in photos I can't see when painting. I've always had great close up vision but was a little short sighted. Now, maybe, I am of an age where the near vision starts to fail too!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 18, 2016, 04:52:22 PM
Capitano di Ventura
Estalia, east of Solsona, at the western mouth of the Tramoto Pass

Ottaviano found himself pleased and thankful to be wearing the Compagnia’s livery once more. He could see Baccio was experiencing a similar satisfaction. The two of them now had a purpose beyond mere survival, a chance to prosper and the security afforded by an army of comrades. The wine was good too.

Their journey from Tilea had not been easy, nor pleasant, and their first weeks in Estalia were a time of hunger and doubt. When they finally found the Compagnia del Sol they cursed their ill-luck, for had they taken the Tramoto Pass instead of the sea route to Almagora they would have walked straight into their comrades’ arms as soon as they entered Estalia. But they were so happy to have arrived, to be made so welcome, that they put their troubles behind them.

Having delivered the letter they carried, and briefly sworn themselves into Capitano Bruno Mazallini’s service, the pair of them were permitted to sleep long enough to take the edge off the pain in their aching legs. Upon waking they were summoned to an examination by the capitano and his marshal Luigi Esposito. It was an unusually warm afternoon for autumn, so the meeting took place at an open air table at the edge of the camp with the foothills of the Abasko Mountains looming in the distance.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp1_zpsh60menmh.jpg)

The capitano di ventura had spent the morning hawking, and was still fussing over his bird when they presented themselves. With a simple gesture and the word ‘Please’ he invited Ottaviano and Baccio to partake of the wine and fruit on the table. Serving themselves they drank deeply of the sweet, spiced Borgas, then Ottaviano noticed Baccio staring at the banner mounted behind the capitano - the Leon de Oro of Almagora. Technically the Compagnia were still in Almagora’s employ, having dealt with the last of the rebellious senors in Solsona, and now entering the last three weeks of the additional ‘ad beneplacitum’ term of their service. Ottaviano decided it was very unlikely that the Compagnia would, or even could, be ordered upon some further enterprise, which was probably why, having pursued the remnant rebels along the Tobaro road towards the Tramoto Pass, they had halted. From here they could make a relatively quick return to Tilea as soon as it was honourable, and had indeed already sent chancellors to secure transport from Tobaro eastwards across the Tilean sea.

“We read your letter,” said the capitano, still admiring the hawk. “Did you know of its contents?”

“We knew only what we were told it contained,” answered Ottaviano. The letter had been sealed with a particularly stubborn wax of dwarven making, and although Baccio had picked at it upon several occasions, Ottaviano had managed to stop him before he broke it.

“And you were told what?” asked the capitano, finally turning to look at the two of them and balling his fists to lean on the table.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp4_zpsj79wezu8.jpg)

“A dwarf called Boldshin gave it to us in Remas, after he had spoken with us at some length. It was plain he wanted to ensure we were what we said we were and that we were going where we said we were going. He claimed to served Tilean dwarven interests and that the letter was an offer of contract, well paid and well worth consideration.”

“He didn’t lie,” said the capitano. “It seems when you stir up some dwarfen bankers and miners, then add a very wealthy Bretonnian baron, you get a very tempting dish indeed.” He turned to address Baccio directly. “Tell me more about this Boldshin.”

The hawk suddenly squawked, almost as if the name meant something to him. The capitano turned to shush the bird. It settled quickly, so he settled his eyes on Baccio.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp9_zpsw8e91du0.jpg)

“Erm … a dwarf’s a dwarf,” said Baccio hesitantly. “Long beard – very long – brownish. He didn’t look old, not for a dwarf anyway. Had gold on his fingers and a mean looking guard with him. Talkative, with a Tilean accent. Not a mountain dwarf, but moneylender I reckon.”

“If you weren’t liveried, how did he know you were Compagnia men?” asked the capitano.

“I can’t say for sure,” Baccio answered. “Well, we did tell him, but that was after he’d spoken with us for some time. Maybe he was talking to everyone at the docks, until he found what he wanted with us?”

The Capitano frowned. “So he told everyone he was trying to get a letter to us?”

Ottaviano shook his head and jumped in before Baccio could answer. “No, capitano, I don’t think so. We weren’t keeping it secret that we were Compagnia men, not in Remas. He most likely just asked around and got pointed our way.”

“We heard a story,” said Marshal Luigi, “that the Compagnia were blamed for the death of a high ranking Reman priest. How come the Remans didn’t set upon you?”

“I don’t think the Remans believe that story,” said Ottaviano. “It was put about by Pavonans, giving them a reason to hunt down and kill as many of us as they could …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp7_zpshjxn9cou.jpg)

“… Most Remans think the Pavonan duke makes up reasons to justify his actions; that the truth has little to do with it.”

“The Pavonans are not to be trusted,” Baccio chipped in. “Everyone knows they are liars.”

A muttered agreement came from the little knot of men standing nearby: a guard, a drummer and a sergeant. The capitano glanced at them and they fell silent.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp3_zps87tn12sg.jpg)
“It seems we must tread carefully then,” the capitano declared. “Especially considering Duke Guidobaldo might well be our next employer.” He let that notion sink in for a moment, before explaining, “Apparently, he has invited other city states to join with him to hire us.”

Ottaviano had neither known nor expected this - he and Baccio had not exactly been moving in the same high circles as the Estalian Compagnia’s chancellors – but it made some sense. “I did hear that Renzelli’s Compagnia men are already in Duke Guidobaldo’s service,” he said. “They weren’t at the Battle of the Princes, being garrisoned at Trantio. Despite the Pavonan’s hatred of the Compagnia, wily old Renzelli must have convinced them that he could be trusted, and that two companies of mercenary crossbows would be of good use.”

“We’d heard that too” said the marshall, his armour clattering as he shifted his stance. “Which was why we took the stories about the Pavonan hatred with a pinch of salt.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp8_zpspldorupl.jpg)

“With respect, Marshal,” said Ottaviano, “Renzelli’s hiring was most likely simply pragmatism on both parties’ parts. Duke Guidobaldo needed a garrison for his newly conquered city, and Renzelli needed to live.”

Baccio sniffed loudly. Staring at his cup he said, “There is no doubt about what the Pavonans did. After the Battle of the Princes they hunted our boys down with deadly purpose in mind. Ottaviano and I were lucky, but many weren’t. I saw Ruggero’s head mounted on a stake like a common criminal. He was a soldier’s soldier …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp6_zpsvv7glned.jpg)

“… A lot of men died who did not need nor deserve to die. And as for our boys killing a Reman priest, that’s a lie. I said it then and I say it now, it makes no sense. If they wanted to rob him then they’d knock him down and tie him up. No-one kills a Morrite priest before his time. It’s a double insult against Morr.”

“If it was a lie, then they chose the wrong people to lie about,” declared the marshal.

“Let’s not make threats until we know what is best for us,” ordered the capitano. “Remember that General Fortebraccio did not command us, nor did we owe him any allegiance. Even before we parted he was not our commander. The simple truth is that he went his way and we went ours and the Compagnia was divided. All we shared was our past, and the name we went by. I mean no offence to you two gentlemen, for I know you played no part in the bitterness that divided the company, but Fortebraccio’s men were not our brothers-in-arms and it is not to be presumed that we should want vengeance for what was done to them.”

A silence fell over the company. No-one was going to argue. They were all mercenaries, not retinue men. They did not fight for vengeance or honour, but for pay and plunder.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EstComp5_zpsygj5bo9z.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 20, 2016, 07:50:02 AM
So, I have to ask ... Was that last story any good? l need to know whether I should put the same amount of work (ie lots) into the next one. The campaign will go on, definitely, but the issue is whether I should be investing so much time in the 'extras' like these background stories.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on February 20, 2016, 02:07:46 PM
I quite liked it. I mean if you enjoy doing them even with the work then please do continue but if they feel more a chore its perfectly understandable to cut them.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on February 20, 2016, 03:13:45 PM
If it depended on me alone, I'd say YES!  :::cheers:::

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Trinkenessen on February 21, 2016, 06:35:06 PM
Padre thanks for the link, your as mad as me ,well done . :biggriin:
Love what you've done with some of the non GW figs and the sourcing of kit and characters  :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:.
My complements Sir , you are a veritable painting machine!!!
Regards
Guy
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 21, 2016, 10:46:29 PM
Thanks for the comments. Zygmund's cheered me up and Von Trinkenessen's made me not feel mad! Well, yes ... mad, but not alone in my madness.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 22, 2016, 01:11:40 AM
It worked for me.  It set alittle more of the backround info regarding why there is more than one Company of Sol.  I also liked the one regarding the meeting of priets, too.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on February 22, 2016, 01:54:49 AM
I love all of this stuff.  Don't post often, but still reading.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Warlord on April 23, 2016, 03:24:42 AM
Padre,

I love your story driven campaign, and beautiful photos.
I would love to do something like this at one point, but I don't have enough friends that game nearby anymore.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 23, 2016, 07:37:40 AM
Thanks for your comments, GP, VK and Warlord.

It does seem to be, Warlord, a hobby of diminishing circles when it comes to players, for various reasons (all the usual RW responsibilities and cirumstances). And ever smaller numbers of chances to play. But this is me clinging on.

I have 6 players. Two live in a small city about 10 miles away (Jan Valckenburgh of the VMC and Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore); two live in a big town 32 miles away (the vampire Duchess Matria and the ogre tyrant Razger Boulderguts); one in my own village (Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona) and one 320 miles away (the Reman arch-lector)!

I feel a bit guilty about the last player being so far away as I said to a couple of interested people here on the forum that we were only going to involve players who were geographically close enough to meet up for games! But this long distance player was a necessity brought about by another player never quite settling in. This player's inability to join us at the table-top is not too much of a problem, though, as he plays the arch-lector of Remas, Calictus II, ruling his city state (and theoretically the church) politically, and although his character has been present on the field of battle as a model on the gaming table, he is not the field commander of his army. We get another campaign player to volunteer to command the army (currently General d'Alessio). Another consequence of this player's geographical separation is that the story posts feature his character more than any other player character - the player like to be involved in that, for him the experience is more like the creation of a story, for consumption by others, than a strategic campaign. It seems only fair that he thus gets time to do something as an alternative to gaming sessions.

Sometimes 'guest players' join us too, to play NPC armies for one off battles - if they can put up with me stopping to take photos and make notes. I myself command NPC armies too. We're all friends and so there's very rarely rules disagreements involving the ugly circumstance of the GM being a player. The fact that the games are rarely 'balanced' affairs, and that I'm not really a player, helps. And that I'm after a story, not a win. I do, however, have to play to win, obviously, otherwise I'm not role-playing properly.

Most of the other players are focused on the strategic aspect of the campaign, &/or finding reasons to have tabletop battles. This is why the campaign thread can't really involve their characters as protagonists. I can't write what they say or think, and I shouldn't give away their plans etc. Of course I can write what other characters say or think about them - usually through the mouths of NPCs (powerful and minor) from other realms, or occasionally their own subjects and soldiers. I thought this would restrict the writing I could do but it doesn't seem to have done so far. I would love to do some joint writing (as I did with the arch-lector) with any or all of them, but in the meantime I can continue as before. It does mean that the story posts are often off at a tangent - they are rarely focused upon the 'main-powers' in Tilea, or, more accurately, they talk about those main powers rather than actually show them in action. But even this is not over-evident to readers as we see the main powers in action in the battle reports, and I can still write scenes including fairly powerful NPCs (like Maria before she 'turned' (into a vampire and a player), and Prince Girenzo of Trantio (before he died). There are also loads of minor characters I can keep returning to to help me report events, like Father Biagino (who is becoming a more important man as time goes by) and the two mercenaries Ottaviano and Baccio. Some of these even manage to survive a long time, allowing a feeling of continuity to the story. I keep thinking of GoT and the way major characters can suddenly, cruelly, unexpectedly die (like RW history).

There has been a long break in posts recently. Sometimes these delays are simply due to RW distractions, mostly my own. I have been very busy work and family-wise recently. Sometimes games are delayed by the need to find a date that suits both players and me. But most of the time, my own life gets in the way, although I can usually manage painting and scenery making during the busy periods - an hour here and half an hour there - as a form of therapy.

Coincidentally I will be 'moving the campaign on' tonight. Not with a post here, or a game, but actually doing my GM duties with the campaign maps, orders, notes, communications and little army markers. I couldn't do this until I met with the player from my own village (in the pub, of course) which is often the case - I get all that I need from the more distant players, only to be delayed by the fact that an hour or two in the pub with the local player! Well I had my drink on Thursday evening, and now work isn't quite as busy as the last three months and so ... hurray! ... I am having an evening with the campaign. I just have to ensure I don't get sidetracked by campaign scenery or figure painting.

I do not know what tonight's work will result in. Perhaps there will be a battle to arrange? Or more questions to ask players, or messages to send to them? Perhaps I will suddenly discover there's a story I can write, or that I need to shift my painting and modelling projects to something that will be needed sooner?

Why did I indulge myself with this post? Well, Warlord, I thought it might get your mind a-thinking about ways you could, despite your gaming buddy shortage, do 'something like this'. With the death of the official warhammer world, our gaming world needs more things like this.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 24, 2016, 03:50:24 AM
I'm thankful for your post.  It is good to share about how to move a campaign like this forward, and at the same time inspire others to do similar things.  Your efforts across the board with this are also appreciated because in a way those who read also live the campaign as it is told even though we aren't participating.

 :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on April 26, 2016, 08:05:44 AM
I'm still here and I'm still loving your work. This is seriosuly one of the most ambitious, WFB-related thing, that I ever saw. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on April 26, 2016, 08:26:50 AM
Arranging a story-driven campaign is my dream too. It's the noble pinnacle of this hobby.

I've had the privilege to play in one (3-4 players), and that really brought me back to the hobby. My Stirlanders still carry on with my army theme from that campaign. The fluff never dies!

I'm a roleplayer more than a tactical player myself, and I'm GMing mostly campaigns that last for years, with bi-weekly sessions. Have done this for over 20 years now. Roleplaying is easier to arrange, easier to continue from where it left last session, and can be even more story-centric, with a multitude of characters interacting. Living in a metropolitan area helps. I hear gamers are harder to find in smaller towns, but here that sort of development is not felt. There are always more interested gamers than a single campaign fits.

As long as it's fun and not a demanding effort, I think campaign-play is the way to go.

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 14, 2016, 07:42:40 AM
End of Season 7 (Autumn 2402) General Report, Part One

Holier Than Thou
The City of Viadaza: Outside

The bulk of Gedik Mamidous’ mercenaries had already marched by, an exotic collection of long-robed spearmen, black clad swordsmen carrying curved blades and camel riders. Even though few of those watching had ever before seen such far-southern warriors, the arabyans had taken so long to cross the river that their arrival was not unexpected. Many a campfire conversation had revolved around the fact that this desert army had been brought to a halt so effectively by a river.

“An arab found himself by a river. Seeing a fellow countryman upon the other side he shouted, ‘How do I get to the other side?’ His countryman looked puzzled, and answered, ‘You are on the other side!”

“Why did an arabyan sleep for a month beside a river? To get to the other side.”

After weeks of delay while the mouldering vessels remaining in the city docks were hastily repaired, there were finally boats enough to transport Mamidous’ soldiers, and now they had arrived at the city, observed by those who remained in the camps outside the walls (a not insubstantial number for the stench of undeath had still not quite quit the city) and by those on the walls. Unexpectedly, at the rear of the column, accompanying the baggage of camels and mules, came a company of Tilean mercenaries – the famous Captain Pandolfo da Barbiano’s galloper guns. It seemed Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore had felt very generous indeed when he employed this army to aid in the arch-lector’s holy war, for he had found even more gold to compensate for the arabyans’ lack of artillery.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndSeason7A3_zpsk9wjqkeq.jpg)

Captain da Barbiano led the brace of guns, wearing a surcoat of green and red, and riding a caparisoned and barded horse. Each gun and limber was light enough to be hauled by a single draught horse, with a whip-wielding rider atop each. The rest of the gunners and matrosses jogged alongside clutching rams, sponges and worms. Da Barbiano had fought for several city states over the last decade, demonstrating the worth of his company during lightening raids to despoil an enemy’s realm – burning crops, looting livestock and driving the populace to despair. Heavier guns would obviously be useless in such an enterprise, but these lighter pieces were capable of keeping up with a mobile force, and allowed a rather unexpected element to be brought into play whenever some sort of local resistance was mustered. “Guns of the Desert” they jokingly called themselves now.

Amongst the tents, watching the gunners, were several Reman soldiers and a company of Morrite dedicates.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndSeason7A1_zpswq7ungwf.jpg)

These hooded fanatics were becoming a common sight in Viadaza – the first people to return in any number after the arch-lector’s soldiers had driven out the undead. Almost all wore robes and cloaks in the grey and maroon colours of the Morrite clergy, and all to a man had sworn themselves to the service of Morr. This did not, however (at least at first) mean they were unified, for Morr speaks mysteriously through dreams, and who can know whether they merely dreamt of Morr or were truly visited by him? Besides, there were many much more mundane reasons for their divisions. Some were lay brothers, officially accepted into the church of Morr, others were flagellant-dedicates recruited by unsanctioned demagogues and visionaries. There were Viadazans who had fought at Pontremola against the vampire duke’s horrid legions, grizzled veterans who had lived a hard life since the fall of their city, and Viadazans who had simply fled the city when the undead arose to live as refugees in the south for a while. There were both Pavonans and Trantians. Amongst the latter were some who shared a common cause with the Trantians, having been ‘favoured’ by them during Duke Guidobaldo’s short rule of their city, and others who hated their former masters with a vengeance. There were haunted Urbimans who had travelled secretly through the nightmarish realms in the north to spy upon the foe, and Campogrottans serving their parole in dedication to Morr, and a good number from the far southern city states who had never before even smelled the stench of undeath until they arrived at Viadaza. What resulted was a somewhat tangled complexity of hierarchies, loyalties and intentions. While some Viadazans wanted to defend the city, never to be driven from it again, others yearned instead to march north without delay and repeat the victory gained by the first popular army Viadaza. Many Remans meant to stand by their oath to obey the arch-lector’s divinely inspired will in every particular, while a handful of accomplished dreamers thought they themselves had a much better understanding of Morr’s wishes. Some Pavonans and Trantians wanted immediately to return southwards to defeat Razger’s Ogres, putting their own houses in order before continuing their fight in the north, whilst others argued that what was happening in the south was Morr’s punishment for the hesitation and delay that kept this great, holy army at Viadaza, and thus they should hold their course and continue northwards.

Yet this wide disparity was on the wane, for as the Autumn weeks rolled by, turning into months, all non-noblemen in Viadaza found themselves pressed into compulsory service by orders of the arch-lector. Their labours included the burning of corpses, the hauling of stones to rebuild the walls and all required to make Viadaza inhabitable once again. And all the while waiting for the Arabyans to get a move on. Apart from a handful of Viadazans who vowed to make a stand here never to lose their home again, everyone else found this state of affairs somewhat frustrating. This was not the urgent holy war they were expecting. They were Morr’s warriors, not the Reman arch-lector’s labourers. The grumbling and complaints began to have a common theme, which in turn engendered a shared cause amongst nearly all of them.

Four Morrite dedicates, three being Viadazans by birth who had served at Pontremola and the fourth a Campogrottan archer who claimed to have killed two sleeping ogres during the famous 'incident', scowled as they watched the galloper guns trundle by.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndSeason7A2_zps5uyvuvfr.jpg)
 
All were hooded, two with partially concealed faces as was becoming popular amongst the more fanatical dedicates. Azzo who was doing most of the talking. Up until now he had commented on every company that marched by, each and every time pointing out how these men worshipped different gods and so were not really suitable to do Morr’s work. Now that Captain da Barbiano’s company had appeared he fell silent.

“That lot look Tilean,” said another, called Jaco. “I bet they pray properly.”

Azzo scowled. “They might well do, but they’re nothing but a fly sitting on this army’s arse. The rest ain’t fit to serve in such a holy war as ours. The desert gods are little more than demons, not even divine.”

“They have but one, true god,” declared the largest of them, Guido. “He’s golden, and his name is Lucre. Give them their god - and they’d not be here if it had not been promised plentiful - and they’ll fight as well as any Tilean soldiers.”

“Fighting’s not enough,” said Jaco through his teeth, his gauntleted hand clutching his sword hilt tightly. “We fought, fought well, at Pontremola. Won the day, hurray! For all the good it did us.”

Azzo rolled his eyes. “We all know who’s to blame for that. Lord Adolfo’s corruption alone brought ruin to Viadaza. He bears all the blame. Besides,” he said, gesturing back towards the city walls as if were helpful, “we’ve taken it back now, with Morr’s holy blessing.”

Guido nodded. “We have that. But the work is not done, and we’ve tarried here too long. Now that these southerners are here, the arch-lector will order us northwards. If Ebino and Miragliano are not cleansed, and quickly, then the enemy’s strength will double and double again. You cannot win by wounding the undead. You must obliterate them and grind their bones to dust.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of his holiness’s plans, Guido,” doubted Azzo. “There’s a new proclamation going out to all of Tilea about how he intends to repopulate the city, make it a Reman protectorate, and wants worthy folk to settle here. Might be this is where he intends to make a stand?”

“Make a stand!” spat Jaco. “That won’t work. They got ‘round us even when we killed the vampire duke. If we just sit here on our arses they’ll march right by and …”  His words petered out as his face set into a grimace of anger.

“I know that,” said Azzo. “You know that. And all too well. But the arch-lector is a Reman and maybe this is far enough north for him?”

Tullio the Campogrottan, who had until now stood a little apart from the others, leaning on the shaft of his viciously tipped spear, sniffed. “If this is where we’re gonna stay, and that lot have just arrived, then I hope the arch-lector has arranged for a fleet of ships to bring some grub. There’s nothing to harvest here and nothing much alive but us. I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy camel stew and pickled Arabyan for supper.”

The four of them fell silent and watched as a rag-tag crowd of stragglers and camp-followers brought up the rear of the Arabyan column.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndSeason7-4_zpsuarvdmn0.jpg)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Several days later) The City of Viadaza: Inside

This was Father Agostino’s third visit today, all made to examine petitioners requesting an audience with the arch-lector. It seemed nearly everyone in Viadaza had an opinion regarding military or political matters, which meant his holiness’s second secretary was being kept rather busy. The first visit was to an official embassy from Urbimo requesting reinforcements for their own garrison in case the undead send a naval force from Miragliano to attack them, the second was a distant relative of the Duchess Maria offering written proof of his inheritance of the dukedom. This third visit involved a much more sinister group, being the leaders of the most substantial (and fanatical) faction of Morrite dedicates in the city.

Upon arrival he discovered they were somewhat more worrying than he had envisaged. He was himself unescorted as it had seemed an unnecessary waste of manpower in a city populated by none other than the arch-lector’s soldiers and professed followers of Morr, especially now that the only really rebellious element, the Campogrottan Ogres, had been destroyed. Logic told him that whichever soldiers might provide a guard were no more or less likely than every soldier in the city to be trustworthy. Now he regretted that decision, for he found himself escorted into an ancient chapel by hooded spearmen, and passing more guards on the way in. These men might garb themselves in the colours of Morrite clergy, but they did so in a fashion that nevertheless marked them out as both distinct and threatening. Agostino found himself wondering whether Morr would grant him a prayer-spell if it was to be used to harm those who also proclaimed themselves his loyal servants!

As he entered the chapel’s nave, the ironbound door clanged shut behind him, closed by one of another pair of guards standing upon either side. The two men escorting him came to a halt with a clunk of their spears on the stone floor and the dedicates there to meet him stood up from the tables they had been seated at and made the sign of Morr, which Agostino answered in kind.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endseason7B1_zpscvsp5bdp.jpg)
The dedicates introduced themselves as the leaders of the Disciplinati di Morr. Azzo, who named the others, was a peculiar looking fellow, for instead of robes he wore only a mask-like hood and a small cloak over his ordinary clothes, which made him seem both slight and awkward amongst his comrades. Guido was a brutish sort, a big, bald fellow carrying an axe, but obviously not with wood-chopping in mind. Azzo named the others as Jaco, Cordill and Galeb, but too haphazardly for Agostino to know who was who, apart from the fact that the one with overgrown teeth was not Jaco.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endseason7B2_zpsq45flwss.jpg)

Without any further formality, Azzo began speaking. “Father, my dreams are blessed with Morr’s wisdom. He has shown me what must be done. Last night I rode a horse upon a long journey and thought to let it lie down and rest a while, but this and that distracted me until my mount’s legs grew weak and it could not get up. The night before I baked a loaf and thought to save it for a special occasion, but I left it too long and it grew mouldy. A dreamt the wheat in the field was ready for harvesting …”

“I understand,” interrupted Agostino. “You fear we have stayed here too long. It is a common concern, and it must indeed weigh heavy upon many consciences. I am sure a whole host of sleepers dream of such things, but whether or not Morr has any part to play in those dreams I am not so sure. I can assure you his holiness also dreams …”

“I know when holy Morr speaks to me,” said Azzo angrily. “And even if he did not, it would yet be true that further delay will likely ruin our cause.”

Agostino raised a hand. “The army’s council of war believe that winter is not the season to be marching to war.”

“Do you think the undead care about the cold?” said the hulking Guido. “They have no need to scour for firewood, or find thicker blankets, or preserve the harvest. Snow and ice will hardly slow them at all.”

“I should think the frozen ground will make it harder to raise more dead,” countered Agostino.

“Morr’s blood!” cursed Guido. “Do you think, father, that the undead grow tired because the ground is harder to dig? Do you think they break from their labours when it falls dark?”

“It is plain to all that have eyes to see that we must march on, and now,” said Azzo. “We have stayed here all Autumn. If the arch-lector wishes to linger on, then he can, but that does not mean he can keep the rest of us with him. Morr watched over us at Pontremola, and will do so again. Viadaza was lost because of Lord Adolfo’s failings, but that would not happen again, for the arch-lector cannot be so tainted. So let the arch-lector and his guard provide a safe haven here, a place from which to send supplies and reinforcements, while the rest go now to finish our holy work. We shall complete what we began, with the arch-lector’s aid, with whatever forces he will grant. I am sure General d’Alessio would be pleased to command us, as he did before. There is no soldier more blessed in the eyes of Morr.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endseason7B3_zpsmnmf7ziu.jpg)

Agostino was flabbergasted, but he did not show it. Instead he nodded as if in contemplation. Then, with no sign of displeasure in his voice, he said, “I will return to the arch-lector and put this to him. If it pleases him then he will wish to speak with you, I am sure.”

Guido sniffed. “And if it doesn’t please him?”

“Then he will pray for guidance.”

…..........

(An hour later in the outer yard of the Lector’s palace.)

It was already growing dark when Father Agostino arrived at the palace forecourt. There he met with the restored lector of Viadaza, Bernado Ugolini, returning from his afternoon constitutional. The lector, recently made secular governor also by the orders of the arch-lector Calictus II, was accompanied by his gnomish clerk (who had no doubt been speaking with his master of both church and state matters). Even as the lector took exercise he was kept busy with such things. Father Biagino was with him too, having been appointed the lector’s adviser. 

Immediately upon spotting Father Agostini, the lector and his companions halted.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endseason7B4_zps7wrpb6jl.jpg)

Agostino bowed, and the lector spoke, “Good father, you met with the Disciplinati?”

“I did, your excellency.”

“And is it as his holiness feared?”

“In some ways, yes, I am afraid so. He will be happy to hear that they gave no sign of being schismatic in their faith, but they do not accept the arch-lector’s military command. The spirit of the Viadazan crusade lives on in them. They would march northwards themselves this very hour, made brave by their devotion to Morr and their memory of the glory of Pontremola. They expect d’Alessio to lead them, as before, and believe the arch-lector will supply them with soldiers and supplies.”

The lector frowned. “When they marched before they did so with the arch-lector’s blessing, and mine, which to my shame I was late in giving for I was fooled by Lord Adolfo, may Morr curse him for what he did in life and what he is now. But they had not Lord Adolfo’s blessing and I think that necessarily rebellious deed, along with the victory which followed and Adolfo’s subsequent treachery, has made them irreverent of all worldly authority, even that of Morr’s holy church.”

“Yet they’ll fight?”

“They will fight,” said Father Biagino. “I know that. I know them. I marched with them; thought like them.  I was with them when they gained their victory. But we lost Viadaza. Faith alone is insufficient. It is an ace card, granted, but a full hand is needed to win this game. If they’re allowed to leave it will divide our strength, and the enemy might devour us piecemeal.”

“What you say is no doubt true, Father Biagino,” agreed the lector. “But how do we convince them to act as one with us?”

“We can’t,” said Biagino. “But with Morr’s blessing, his holiness might.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 16, 2016, 09:06:53 AM
Great stuff as usual. I love the color scheme and the style of your pics. Like, I've said - you could probably gather all that stuff in a single place. This is simply golden.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 24, 2016, 03:36:55 PM
Thank you once again, Xath. It's a nice feeling have a 'fan' :icon_redface:.
...
End of Season 7 (Autumn 2402) General Report, Part Two

The Once Mighty Monte Castello
Southern Tilea, on the western shore of the Bay of Wrecks
(This next co-written with Uryens de Crux, Valckenburgh’s player)

As his scouts gave their report, Lord General Jan Valckenburgh considered the maps they had provided and carefully assessed all they told him. They were good men, ritters from the Wasteland and seasoned scouts in good standing with the company, so he knew to trust their account.

"Lord General, the walls already have a number of breaches,” explained Thomel, who had drawn the map. “Even the gate tower is thrown down …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello6_zpsqw58vqoz.jpg)

… There is no sign of the engines that did the damage, but the remains of the goblin’s siege-works are still to be seen around the citadel." Thomel’s finger gestured to the lines on the sketched map as he explained. The castle walls themselves were drawn thick, while thinner marks traced a crescent-shaped circumvallation of earth forts on the outside. The scout now indicated the gaps in the walls. “The repairs to the breaches are mostly double-timbered walls, filled with rubble, and not all completed. They’re being worked on now, idly, and only by a few runtish looking goblins"

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello5_zpsuwljv5cy.jpg)

Captain Singel, the company’s captain of works, broke in, eager to give his help. "Sir, their works are quick and shoddy, nothing more than deal board and old timbers filled with rubble. It might repel an assault without any artillery, but it will burn very easily..."

Nodding, General Valckenburg pointed in turn to each of the breaches illustrated, then gestured to Thomel that he should continue the report.

"While they do not seem to have artillery pieces,” the scout went on, “there are bolt throwers on at least three of the towers and a stone thrower oddly positioned forward of the gate. Most are crewed by goblins but we saw some larger orcs too.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello4_zpspzgoavjo.jpg)

“How strong is the garrison?” asked Valckenburgh.

“It looks not overly large, Lord General, but who knows what else lies hidden? Gobbos can be sneaky like that."

The Marienberger general was still running his fingertip over the map, mentally placing the forces at his disposal. Assuming the greenskins had no proper artillery his guns could pound the walls with impunity. The great siege piece would certainly make short work of any defences, no matter how well made, and should very quickly smash through a patch-work of rubble-filled planks, although this did not mean it would necessarily be an easy or quick fight, especially if the goblins could defend the re-breached sections in strength. He knew from experience that fighting over defended piles of rubble was often a brutal and drawn-out affair. The year had turned, and he could not afford a protracted siege. Captain Singel had earlier suggested that only the insane would venture to sea in a supply-laden ship in the autumn storms that lashed the Black Gulf. The problem was that greenskins were not known for their sanity, and Valckenburgh currently had no means to blockade the sea lanes.

The men around him were waiting in silence while he deliberated. He approached the decision something like his brother might have weighed up the pros and cons of an investment, balancing his long term plans, the available options and both the factors that he could and could not control. Finally, he addressed the scouts.

"Well done. Take your troop and range out. Make sure there are no hidden bands of goblin scum hiding hereabout. I want eyes on the castle too, just in case they are concealed within in strength. If you hear battle, fall back to the reserve position.” Then he turned to his officers. “Captain Singel, move your train into range of our largest pieces. If you use the abandoned works – for they should be very well placed to target the repaired breaches - then first ensure they are safe, then make all necessary improvements with gabions and works. I doubt the greenskins did a good job. Colonel Van Hal, order your men to invest the castle and Captain van Rooyen, prepare your rodelaros for the attack. You will follow the ogres in as soon as a suitable breach is made. The firelocks will provide cover."

The company snapped to attention, the officers giving stiff bows. This was not as sign of naïve eagerness, however, for all of them were professionals, and they knew their trade well.

……………………………………………………………..……….

Hunched behind some rocks, the three of them had a good view of what remained of the castle gate, or at least they would have done if they had the eyes of hawks. Luckily Thomel had a spy glass to compensate for this need. He scrutinised, while Rutiger and Halmut squinted.

“Definitely some coming out now – carrying pikes,” Thomel said. “They’re marching, and being neat and tidy about it.”

“So they’re not goblins then?” asked Halmut.

“O’course they are,” said Rutiger. “What else would march out of there?”

Thomel shifted himself, and wiped the end of the spy glass with his linen kerchief. “They’re goblins alright. Lots of them. Came out in a column of twos on account of the timber hoarding making the gate so narrow, but now they’re doubling their front. Like I said, neat and tidy. We’ve seen it before, at Pavezzano and Capelli.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello8_zpstwka85br.jpg)

“At Pavezzano they just walked into our guns. They weren’t so tidy then,” laughed Halmut.

“Guns’ll do that,” said Rutiger.

“Wait!” blurted Thomel, surprising the other two men. Halmut stiffened, Rutiger got part way through drawing his blade. “They’ve stopped,” Thomel added.

“And so did my heart there for a moment,” complained Halmut. “Why not save your sudden shouts for the moments that matter.”

“What are they doing now?” asked Rutiger.

“They’ve divided into two columns, each turning to face the flanks, and then stepped forwards doubling from the rear to form one rank upon either side of the road. Someone’s been teaching them how to look like real soldiers. ”

“You’re like a living drill manual today – it’s very educational,” said Halmut.

“I think the general’s recent praise has gone to his head,” added Rutiger.

Thomel ignored them. “One of them has split off - he’s the one shouting orders. They’ve about-faced to line the road upon either side.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello9_zpsfaqxw8cf.jpg)

“I can see that much myself,” said Thomel. “They must be planning on a parade.”

Rutiger laughed. “You’re not far wrong. I reckon they’re doing this for our benefit. They’re showing strength – numbers and discipline – as well as how unperturbed they are by our presence. You have to admit, it’s impressive for goblins.”

“Anything beyond farting is impressive for goblins,” said Halmut with a snort. Then his brow furrowed. “Why? Why don’t they just man the walls and wait for us to make a move? That’s what we’d do.”

“I see why,” announced Thomel. “Come on, follow me. Let’s get us a closer look.”

“Makes sense,” said Thomel sarcastically. “Three men should do well against an army!”

“They’re not sending an army out. They’re coming out to talk.”



On lower ground, the three of them could get a much closer and still remain concealed. A little band of banner bearers and horn-blowers had emerged, led by several meaner-than-average looking goblins.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello2_zps3tw67udc.jpg)

“This wasn’t the best idea you’ve had Thomel,” complained Halmut. “They could be at the head of an army, and if they have wolf riders amongst them then I reckon we won’t be having supper tonight.”

Once again Thomel was playing his eyeglass upon the scene. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “There’s no army behind them. There’s just what you see – a bunch of bloody banners and bosses. I knew it! They’re coming out to parley.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello1_zpsz9bi7ivt.jpg)

Thomel could make out leering, green faces peeking over every wall and tower, watching the party as it processed between the arrayed pike soldiers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello3_zpsdgf4lwgj.jpg)

“Best be off to warn the general then?” suggested Halmut. “He’ll want to give them a suitable reception.”

Thomel raised his hand to signal that they should wait a moment. He wanted a better look, and focused the spy glass upon the lead goblin. “Now he IS ugly,” he muttered.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/MonteCastello7_zpsrcn1zkaa.jpg)

The great goblin in question sported a ridiculous grin, his teeth widely spaced as if he had plucked every second one out. A spiked helm, too small for his bulbous head, had been thrust down onto his chain-mail hood. His mail, extending down to his waist, was also insufficiently sized. It could not be unfastened, so that his belly burst from the gap, which made the wearing of mail a somewhat pointless exercise (unless what he really feared was being stabbed from behind). As he lumbered along, he clutched at both the hilt and scabbard of his sword, it’s black blade just visible, as if he was ready to draw it on the shortest of notice.

Next up: The last section of part 2, currently also being co-written by myself and Uryens.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 24, 2016, 06:04:41 PM
Wow, more great stuff with that scenery! :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on May 25, 2016, 12:37:13 PM
Thanks for the story & pics.  :::cheers:::

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 30, 2016, 08:01:39 AM
As usual, your stuff is what makes me paint and assemble (should be other way around!) my minis. Thanks man. :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 02, 2016, 02:45:38 PM
(You're welcome Xath. And yes, always, get painting!)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
End of Season 7 (Autumn 2402) General Report, Part Two Continued

The Once Mighty Monte Castello
Southern Tilea, on the western shore of the Bay of Wrecks
(This piece co-written with Uryens de Crux, General Valckenburgh’s player and commander of the VMC)

Several of the VMC’s officers had gathered to await the goblins’ arrival. All those within easy distance of General Valckenburgh had been sent for, the exceptions being those busied with their military responsibilities in preparing for the siege. Captain Singel, for example, was wholly occupied with siting the siege pieces, and most of the other field-captains were with their own companies, directly commanding them. But most of the general staff were present.

General Valckenburgh was fully armoured, apart from a helmet, wearing instead the dark skull cap he most often favoured. Over his armour was an orange surcoat, which along with blue was the VMC’s usual livery, and in his right hand he clutched the baton de commandement. Closest to him was Luccia la Fanciulla, carrying her blessed, Myrmidian standard. She too was armoured from the neck down and wore a liveried surcoat. There was enough of a breeze to reveal that the holy standard bore an image of the goddess’s shield and spear.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet5_zps8v75hjew.jpg)

Upon the general’s other side stood the scholarly linguister Pieter Schout, looking nervous as he clutched and unclutched the hilt of his sword. More at ease moving in courtly circles, and conversing in Arabyan or Elvish, it was hardly a surprise that he might feel a little discombobulated at the prospect of an interaction with goblins from beyond the Black Gulf. He was praying to Myrmidia that they might speak at least some Old Worlder, which was likely if at least some of the commanders had served in the Border Princes. There it was not uncommon to employ even greenskins as mercenary soldiers. Next to him was the long-bearded Johannes Deeter, looking somewhat incongruent in his long black cloak, curl-toed shoes and clutching a set of brass scales to allow the channelling of a subtle spell he claimed could help the parley proceed smoothly.

Several little companies of soldiers were present too, all the better to ensure the goblins could not play any murderous tricks, but not so many as to make the goblins unwilling to even approach. The scouts had already counted the enemy party, and so it was easy to judge what would be exactly sufficient for safety. On one side a single rank of Captain van Luyden’s handgunners stood with loaded pieces at port …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet3_zpsfewfm5vb.jpg)

… while on the other Pieter Schout’s pistolier guard were also made ready with weapons drawn.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet4_zpsftpokr5h.jpg)

A little way behind, guarding the rear even though it was hard to see how the goblins might scramble over the rocks there, was another file of handgunners (mercenary Estalians), a dozen Marienburger pikemen from the Meagre Company, and in between them two sergeants guarding the bearer of the VMC’s company colours. There were no army scouts present, however, for the general had ordered every one of them to scour the army’s entire periphery and beyond to forestall any attempted surprise. Valckenburgh knew of many supposedly honourable men who would not baulk at using the distraction of a parley to launch an attack, and so certainly would not be so foolish as to trust goblins.

The wizard Deeter broke the silence, his curt question unadorned by social niceties such as using the general’s proper title. “What could the creatures possible want to discuss? They must know what we’ve done to their kin, and what we will inevitably do to them. Why waste time coming out to babble their inanities at us?”

“They know full well what we have done,” said General Valckenburgh. “Which is why they come to talk with us. They’ll bluster, no doubt, and threaten, and their wilful stupidity will be painfully evident, but in truth they’re hoping to save their skins. Perhaps they hope to spin out time, or believe they will learn something of our disposition and strength.”

The general scanned the distant outline of the castle’s towers, and what he could sea of the waters of the gulf to the south of it.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet15_zpspgkshekj.jpg)

“Most likely they have no means of escape; no ships and no allies to come to their aid. We shall see. It should not prove too difficult to guess what truth is masked by their attempts at deceit.”

The flags flapped and snapped in the wind, while the VMC’s welcoming party fell silent as they waited.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet1_zpsrnqns3yb.jpg)

After a little while a knot of greenskins appeared through a gap in the rough ground ahead. They too had standards, ragged and dull-hued flags hanging from yard-like supports and adorned with beasts’ skulls. One standard appeared to be a ship’s wheel which had the skulls but no rag. Somewhere amongst them a goblin was playing bladder-pipes, sounding a high-pitched tumble of notes accompanied by a wheezing drone.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet7_zpsplhatcbn.jpg)

“Not the most imposing of parties are they?” quipped Deeter.

“My lord general, surely it would sully the honour of Myrmidia to let such base creatures approach her holy standard unchallenged,” said Luccia.

“On the contrary,” said the general. “The goddess teaches wisdom in war - strategic prowess and tactical cunning over brute force and wild rage.”

“I have seen them try to fight,” said Luccia. “Tactical cunning is not necessary to beat them, just numbers and a little discipline.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet6_zpsg45fh7bm.jpg)

The general glanced at her, reminding himself how young she was and that all she had seen of war was the battles at Pavezzano and Capelli. “They are now behind walls, and I do not have time to waste. I want this fight over and done with as soon as possible. I want this land made safe, and productive. There are greater threats to the north, and we have spent too long already chasing goblins hither and thither. If I can gain victory one single day sooner by listening to what these foul creatures have to say, then I am happy to do so. Here I risk wasting one hour, against a potential gain of days if not weeks.”

“If these are their leaders,” suggested Deeter, “then I say let us kill them now. Would that not almost certainly mean the rest either flee in disorganised panic, and if not that, then set upon each other, squabbling over who should command? Either is a more likely outcome than hoping a talk will make them simply lay down their arms and hand us the castle.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet2_zpsbuswjzmo.jpg)

“I never said we shall not do just that,” said the general. “Only that I would hear them speak before deciding upon a course of action. We got the name Big Boss Grutlad easily enough out of the petty goblin we caught yesterday, and a veritable volume of sordid stories concerning who lopped bits off whom. I want to see what we can get out of Grutlad himself.”

The greenskins had halted whilst the general spoke. A horn sounded a pretty trill of notes from the hills behind the VMC soldiers. General Vlackenburgh knew this signalled the all clear, that there was no sign of goblins approaching from elsewhere.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet9_zps0ir0s828.jpg)

“Well,” he declared, “unless each of them conceals a grenado, it looks like they are indeed here to talk. We could yet fight this battle with words and have them surrender without the loss of one of our men. Despite the honourable Luccia’s misgivings, I might even have a use for them.”

“My lord general, you cannot mean that?” asked Luccia.

“I do, brave and honourable girl. If I can convince one enemy to fight another enemy then I shall have a lot fewer enemies as a result, and yet as many men to defeat them with when it finally becomes necessary.”

The goblins had been halted for some time now, and could be seen to be engaged in their own conversation.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet8_zpszwxle7s1.jpg)

Then three of the goblins began to approach, leaving the tatty banner-bearers and musicians behind. Captain van Luyden’s handgunners stepped forwards too, closing the gap between them and the goblins so that any shots they fired could not fail to meet their mark.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet10_zpslpkzndi4.jpg) 

The large goblin at the front, presumably the leader, was obviously the one Thomel the scout had described earlier. He gripped his sword hilt in a manner the general recognised from historical etiquette – neither quite drawn nor left to rest, symbolic of an undecided outcome. This seemed to be a good sign, for he had not expected etiquette of any kind. If the goblin thought there were rules to this game, then there was indeed a game to play. The other two consisted of a similarly paunchy goblin with a blood-stained sword resting over his shoulder like a soldier might carry a handgun or pike, while the second clutched an axe (and had a grin) almost as big as himself.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet13_zpsqisuv6hc.jpg)

The goblin leader spoke first. “I’m big boss here. This castle’s mine, this army’s mine and you can get lost.”

“We’re not leaving,” said the general. “But you know that, because you’re here to talk.”

“If you’re staying it’ll be long wait for ya, ‘cos I got lots of gobs, and you ain’t getting in. Might as well bugger off now than sit here hungry while we eat salt-fish and man-flesh a-plenty inside. We ain’t intending to share, and if you tries to take what we have, then we’ll salt you up nice and tasty too.”

General Valckenburgh laughed. “You took the castle. What makes you think we cannot? We have bigger guns and better powder than you had, and you’ve got a wall patched with wooden planks instead of unbroken stone. However long it took you to get in, we shall do it ten times more quickly. You’ll be dead long before you’ve even made a dent in your stock of food.”

“If you try, then men’ll die, lots an’ lots. Smash up the timbers if you like. You still has to get over the mess you make, and then you’ll pay dearly for every inch, ‘cos I’ve got plenty o’ gobs who don’t mind sticking spears into men as they scrabble and scramble over rubble and splinters. Why put yerself to so much trouble and lose so much to gain this broken castle?”

“We know your true strength is nothing compared to what Khurnag’s commanded. We batted that army aside without breaking a sweat. Warlord Khurnag had not even ordered the advance when he took a four-pound roundshot to his belly in our first volley. And that came from one of our smallest pieces.”

The goblin glanced over at the one on his left, who nodded briefly as if to confirm Valckenburgh’s words. That one was obviously there that day, thought the general. That’s why they’ve come out – they know full well how badly it has gone for them so far.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet14_zpssvmorzkw.jpg)

Big Boss Grutlad sniffed in a horrible gurgling manner, and Valckenburgh spied glistening beads of sweat forming on his brow. When he spoke, however, it was with the same apparent confident disdain.

“Place is ruined anyway. We squeezed all we can from it. ‘Taint much use to us now. Might be we could sell it to you, then you don’t have to suffer in the taking of it. If you’ve got enough of the shiny stuff then I reckon you’d save yourself a lot of nastiness.”

General Valckenburgh smiled, thinking that they had now reached where the goblin always intended to go. It was not far enough for him, however.

“We both know who will really suffer in the taking of the castle. And you know that our attack will be the end of your command, one way or another. I didn’t drag all this artillery here just to turn around and go back. I killed Khurnag and now I’m sweeping up the mess he made. You think the latter task will be more difficult than the former? I’ve done the hard work, now I’m just tidying up the loose ends. I have already defeated my enemies, all that’s left is to kill them too.”

Grutlad’s eyes narrowing and lips twisting as it all sunk in. The goblin’s bluster had turned to fluster. Both his companions stared at his back, as if they did not know what to make of his silence.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet12_zpsr7offi0z.jpg)

“See now,” said Grutlad, “I would’ve sold cheap, but I’m willing to let you have the pile for nothing more than letting us go. We never wanted to stay here, not since Khurnag copped it, and was just waiting for ships to take us. You give us yer word that we can leave without bother and you’re welcome to the place.”

General Valckenburgh said nothing, but just stared at Grutlad.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/VMCMeet11_zpsxekte6qy.jpg)

The big boss twitched, an involuntary motion he attempted to turn into a shrug. “It don’t even ‘ave to be all of us. I don’t care what you do the rest of them, just let us lot and a few others go. Bugger the rest. I’ll take only what’ll fit in a ship.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you an’ me, I can get the rest to come out so it’s easy fer ya.”

“No,” said Valckenburgh, revelling a moment in the obvious fear now writ upon the goblin’s face. “That’s not what I want. You can keep your mob, but not the castle. And you can buy your lives, all your lives, by serving me as mercenaries. That’s the deal: You die, all of you … or you serve me, all of you.”

The grinning goblin with the axe surprised the general by somehow widening his already impossibly large grin, while the other companion looked at him as if taking the measure of him – which was equally surprising. Grutlad slid his sword fully back into his hilt, and said, simply: “You’s got some more soldiers, then.”

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on June 02, 2016, 03:22:15 PM
You know what Padre, that's professional quality writing and imagery in my opinion
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on June 02, 2016, 05:52:14 PM
Top notch and no mistake  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on June 03, 2016, 08:01:08 AM
You know what Padre, that's professional quality writing and imagery in my opinion

That's true. I hope you have all that text and photo backed up somewhere. I'd hate to see them lost in the depths of the internet.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 16, 2016, 09:38:51 AM
End of Season 7 (Autumn 2402) General Report, Part Three

A Letter to Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

This to my most noble lord, from your loyal servant Antonio Mugello. I pray this missive finds you blessed by all the gods, and that the realm of Verezzo lies both happy and secure. I hereby and in all modesty present that which I have discovered this Autumn, having made every effort to ascertain what is true from the chaff of tittle tattle and rumour. If I have been misled then I humbly assure you it is due to the mortal limitations I share with all men rather than any idleness or carelessness on my part.

First I must explain that my movements have become curtailed by force of circumstance, as I have been trapped in Pavona for over a month due to Razger Boulderguts’ double-army of ogres ravaging all around Duke Guidobaldo’s city. Anyone foolish enough to venture out from the security of the stones would certainly suffer a terrible fate. In the face of this dire threat, when one might expect the Pavonans’ martial aspirations to shine, instead they have dimmed, for rather than making a stand to fight for what is theirs by right of conquest, they have retreated at every opportunity. They have even gone so far as to raze their own lands, thus hoping to disappoint the ogres’ expectations of loot, as well as starve them of subsistence, and thus encourage the brutes to cease their encroachment and look elsewhere for satisfaction.

As I travelled upon the Via Aurelia I encountered many poor folk fleeing from Trantio, and so learned how the duke’s garrison soldiers had stripped the city itself and the villages and farmsteads of Preto of every moveable of value. Indeed, as they departed, they fired the city so as to deny even its roofs to the ogres. Boulderguts might be responsible for Scorcio’s destruction, but the Pavonans chose to deny the rest of the Trantine principality to him by themselves destroying it first. Many a poor Trantian curses the Pavonan duke’s name, and swears that Prince Girenzo, for all his pride and youthful ambition, would never have turned upon his own realm in such a way. The Pavonans bashed their way into Trantio, then burned their way out, and their rule was as short as it was cruel.

At Astiano it was plain to me that the walls could not possibly withstand a sustained attack by an army of brutes. Only last year the Pavonans had captured the city quickly and with a relatively modest force, battering the walls in doing so. Now those weakened walls faced a much greater threat, bigger in every meaning of the word, and would surely fall within days of the tyrant Boulderguts’ arrival. Consequently, I decided to continue onwards to Pavona itself, being the place in which I could best serve you by learning of Duke Guidobaldo’s plans. So it was that I found myself passing through the ruins of Venafro, destroyed by the Compagnia del Sole during the War of the Princes, and then through Casoli, which was being stripped by the Pavonan soldiery of all goods and stocks in a manner exactly like Trantio. It seems Duke grown so timorous as to order the dismantling and destruction of his very own hereditary estates! Some said it was a sign of his strength that sentimentality and mercy did not stand in the way of his calculated strategy, yet to mine own eyes it appeared most strange to see the mighty army of Pavona become little more than a band of armed bailiffs collecting goods and chattels, while the people of Casoli wept and pleaded as if they too were a conquered people like the Trantians.

It became common knowledge, advertised by heralds in Pavona’s main piazzas, that the Duke had dispatched letters to all Tilean principalities to the south and west - the boy king Ferronso, Lord Alessio Falconi, Conte Gabriele Mastroianni and your noble self. You, my lord, will of course know the truth of this, and indeed the actual contents of the letter. All I know is what was announced: that these princes had been asked to provide military aid in the war against Boulderguts, before the heart of Tilea was burned and the ashes consumed. I was surprised to hear nothing said in the declarations concerning any alliance betwixt Boulderguts and the vampire-duchess, for this remains a commonly held belief, especially in Pavona. It is said to explain why even in this hour of dire need the duke has not recalled his son and his ‘old army’ from the arch-lector’s holy war - if the ogres and undead are indeed allies, then Lord Silvano is already engaged in the fight for Pavona. 

And yet it is rumoured throughout the city that in truth Lord Silvano has not fought for many months, instead being forced to bide his time in Viadaza, due to need to transport Gedik Mamidous’ mercenary army, the Sons of the Desert, over the swollen River Trantino. When this was finally done, arch-lector Calictus is said to have ordered the formation of a garrison from his now massively swollen forces, to remain in defence of the city, while declaring that he himself, Lord Silvano and the newly arrived arabyans, would soon march northwards to face the vampires.

Whether it is giddy fear brought on by Boulderguts’ threatening circumambulation of Pavona, or the schismatic Morrite tendencies rooted here, or simply their old bravado, I know not,  but I have heard it said often (and I report this only so that you will understand the depth of the people’s impudence) that a priest like Calictus is not fit to lead an army, for it takes nothing but the thought of the winter’s wind to make him huddle by the fire in Viadaza, nursing hot, spiced wine and prayerfully contemplating how he might, when it is warmer, perhaps, should the rain cease and the winds diminish, possibly consider engaging the foe. Letters sent home by Lord Silvano’s soldiers reveal that there is considerable faction and strife in Viadaza concerning the best course of action. Fanatics preach either caution or action, but mostly action, and the soldiers grow frustrated that they are being employed as mere labourers, repairing walls rather than bringing the war to a swift conclusion.

I fear the vampire duchess does not share such a tendency for tardiness, and her forces are unlikely to suffer such divisions. The arch-lector’s delay allows her to grow even stronger, when she was already strong. Having been forced by my confinement into close quarters with all and sundry, I discovered more than just native Pavonans in the city, and by chance spoke on several occasions with a Viadazan who was present when Lord Adolfo’s curse was revealed, and his murdered-and-raised army began their terrible slaughter. This man escaped death first by hiding and then by fleeing. Being of a sombre and sober disposition, and not one for fanciful talk or ill-thought assertions, he told me how the vampire duchess marched from Viadaza with a much greater force than that which remained with Lord Adolfo. While Adolfo corrupted his living soldiers to forge his foul horde, he also desecrated every Morrite shrine and gateway, allowing the vampire duchess to reap all the graveyards had to offer, harvesting corpses by the thousand. In the Cerverozzi necropolis north of Busalla, and many other graveyards and burial pits, she unquieted long dead legates, luring them from the dry earth. These then issued their own commands, adding potency to the magic she channelled through them, calling upon their centurions and signifera to attend them, who in turn demanded their cornicines and drummers …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndSeason7D2_zpsjgkwg12v.jpg)

… whose eerie reveille woke the rank and file, until lines of long-dead legionaries snaked along the funerary paths. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndSeason7D1_zps7kq863xi.jpg)



Only a day after I had passed by Astiano, I learned of the cruel fate of the main body of Trantian refugees. I doubt there is a Tilean alive who has not heard the tale, for it must have spread like wildfire, but it is possible that because I was so close to the source, the account I heard might well be nearer to the truth than the jumbled stories that pass between travellers, and which might be all that has so far reached your own ears. Put plain, the Pavonan soldiers and even their artillery pieces managed to enter the city gates to safety, given precedence by the garrison who held back the Trantian crowd to ensure said passage, but then, because Razger’s brutes were so close, the garrison commander ordered the gates shut before the refugees and their wagons could themselves enter. Some say that one Pavonan wizard even conjured a fire to hold back the mob, although others say there was a fire-mage amongst the foe. The Pavonans do not speak of this event with sadness or disgust, rather they more commonly describe it as a clever ruse, adding ‘More fool the Trantians for not moving quicker’. It is claimed that many an ogre perished from the withering hail of missiles launched from the walls, so keen were they to drag off the wagons and people of Trantio, the first to add to their ill-gotten plunder and the second to feast upon. I cannot believe such a deed has bettered Duke Guidobaldo’s already bruised reputation, for he first conquered the Trantians, only then to allow this horrible fate to befall them. But of all the complaints muttered against the duke’s decisions in the streets of Pavona, this deed is not included.

Boulderguts’ army proved true to its reputation and set about ravaging the land for sport as much as food and plunder, then, as if perhaps they suddenly remembered why they were there, they assaulted and captured Astiano just as quickly as I had feared they would. Much to the surprise of his own people, Duke Guidobaldo chose not to march to Astiano’s aid, despite the army he had at his command. I suspected this was due to his lack of knowledge concerning the whereabouts of Bouldergut’s hired allies, the mercenaries from the Border Princes known as Mangler’s Band. If they had been close to Razger’s force, the Duke may have found himself greatly outnumbered in the field, and if instead they were hidden among the Trantine Hills to the north, then the duke’s departure would leave Pavona itself insufficiently defended to withstand their attack. So the duke chose to stay behind the city walls, and turned his entire army into a garrison.

Astiano was, of course, brutally sacked by Boulderguts’ army, and the small Pavonan force guarding it was lost entirely. Thus began Pavona’s time of waiting, which continues even now. Each and every report received has been bad news. First came word of sightings of petty-goblins near Casoli, and even within sight of the city walls, being the sort of slippery little creatures who often serve as scouts for ogres. No-one knew whether they belonged to Boulderguts or Mangler, but the question proved academic when word came that both tyrants had rejoined their forces and now marched as one through Casoli. The only source of solace in the city was that Casoli had been stripped completely bare - even crops only a week from harvesting had been burned. The brutes would find little sustenance. Yet even this source of reassurance was tempered by the fact that the brutes’ hunger might drive them on more violently.

Most recently, it was reported that both enemy armies had swept around the city to the north, heading eastwards. This came as a surprise as many had presumed they had left off an immediate attack upon Pavona in order to take the less-solidly walled town of Scozzese. I cannot know the truth, and have heard conflicting accounts concerning this turn of events. Some claim that the bridge at Casoli has been destroyed thus preventing the ogres’ passage, others that the Duke has fortified it to achieve the same end. Some claim that the ogres are afraid to put themselves on the southern side of the river in winter, so far from Campogrotta, while others laugh at that idea and suggest the ogres are simply saving Scozzese until last. Montorio tower fell quickly, it’s garrison butchered to a man, and yet still the duke ordered no sally from the walls.

At the end of Autumn, even though the ogres threatened the routes to the north, Morrite priests delivered a letter from the arch-lector himself, sent to all Tilean lords, both clerical and secular, and ordered to be read aloud in every Morrite temple and church. I cannot know if you, my lord, received exactly the same, so I will include a transcript here for your perusal and comparison.


This to be read to all the faithful servants of Morr and the lawful gods. His Holiness Calictus II wishes it to be known that the city of Viadaza has been rescued from the vile clutches of vampires and their unholy servants. Morr’s holy army has driven them northwards, beyond even the River Tarano, and has already completed the work of cleansing the city of all corruption. I have ordered a strong garrison formed to defend the city from further attacks, so that even while our most holy war continues, the city of Viadaza need never again suffer the horror that once befell it.

Lord Adolfo, who ruled Viadaza in life, and who now serves the wicked vampire Duchess Maria in unlife, left no living heirs, and so it is that I have declared the city and all the lands appertaining to it to be a protectorate of Remas. The Reman church of Morr will hereafter provide safe sanctuary to all Morr-respecting and law-abiding souls who wish to return and settle therein. As long as empty dwellings remain they will be made available to those who desire them. All skilled labourers and artisans who present themselves, and prove their worth and skill, will be allowed to freely practise their trade for the betterment of both themselves and the city, without redemption demanded of them. All taxes will be fair and equitable, and all appointed officers and magistrates will be required to exercise the laws in a just and decent manner. Hourly prayers will be sung in temple and church to the glory of Morr, and to beg his protection from all evil.

Come all ye who wish to prosper.

Sing hymns of thanks and praise, for Morr is good and his church likewise. Let Viadaza thrive and share a happiness and prosperity ne’er known before to its denizens.



Despite my confinement here in Pavona, I have learned what I can of the rest of Tilea. Due to the restricted nature of my sources, I suggest, my lord, you take this information with a grain of salt, but I offer it nevertheless so that you can balance it with that which you have learned from elsewhere.
 
Over the summer several merchants had reported that the dwarfs of Karak Borgo were growing unhappy, disgruntled by the failure of their previously profitable trade with Tilea. The wizard Lord Nicolo Bentiglovio’s tyrannical rule in Campogrotta, the city through which both the Iron Road and the River Astipo access all other Principalities, has effectively closed the gate by executing, imprisoning or levying exorbitant fines upon the city merchants, then requiring ever greater taxes and tolls from anyone left attempting to carry out the dwindling trade. This account quickly transformed in the taverns of Pavona, inevitably infected by the Pavonans’ own prejudices, intertwining with another rumour concerning the dwarfs. As soon as the first reports of Boulderguts’ attacks came in, it was quickly put about that the Pavonan dwarfs exiled by ducal decree were behind the ogre tyrant’s choice of target! This was revenge for that which was done to them. Some few have pointed out that the Pavonan dwarfs would thus be allying with the enemies of their mountain cousins, the ogres, yet this argument was rebutted by the claim that the Pavonan dwarfs have used their urge for revenge to draw away the ogres’ main strength from Campogrotta, probably in preparation for an attack by a force from Karak Borgo. If this were true then it would be a false alliance made with one enemy to gain revenge against another, and lead them both into ruin in the end. I myself doubt this theory, for I have visited the mountain mines and found them a mostly empty place, worked by only a few stubborn dwarfs and surely not enough to muster a force of any size. And it seems to me the exiled dwarfs are also too weak, too scattered and insignificant, to achieve such influence. Furthermore, if the Pavonan dwarfs had a hand in advancing Boulderguts’ power, then this would by default mean they were allying with the vampires (if, as is still generally supposed, the ogres and the vampires do have an unholy agreement). Make of these rumours what you will, my lord.
 
In the far south it seems the VMC is very close to finally ridding Tilea of the last remnants of Khurnag’s Waagh, and is even now marching against Monte Castello to drive out any greenskins remaining there. I also heard a tale concerning the ratto huomo in the far north, concerning how they have mustered a force in the Blighted Marshes and intend to press an attack on their ancient enemy Miragliano now that the Vampires are distracted. If this were true, then it would provide an unlikely (if temporary) ally for the arch-lector in the war against the undead. Yet, what with the Reman church of Morr’s clouded history of dealings with the rat men - arch-lector Frederigo Ordini’s supposedly ‘false’ Holy War and secret alliance with the rat-men causing the ruination of the north half a century ago - this could prove a harmful political complication for the current arch-lector. Again, I do not claim to speak the truth here, but simply impart what people are saying.

I eagerly await your further instructions and remain your obedient servant.

Post script: I will attach to this missive a short report concerning what I have learned from the soldiery of Pavona.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 16, 2016, 10:33:46 AM
Uh oh, where's that music from Jaws when ya really need it!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on June 17, 2016, 07:59:01 AM
Uh oh, where's that music from Jaws when ya really need it!

Too right! :biggriin: Another great read, thanks Padre. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 24, 2016, 02:58:09 PM
A Second Letter to Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

Further from your servant, Antonio Mugello.

This is to impart to you, my lord, something of Duke Guidobaldo’s army, concerning the common soldiery rather than the plans and purposes of the duke himself, or his captains. I present this to reveal unto you something of the nature of the force at the duke’s disposal, and also because I cannot access the Duke’s mind, being myself neither ambassador nor emissary, unable to visit lordly palaces, but instead having eyes upon the streets, so to speak.

I have spoken with several soldiers, acting the part of an amenable drinking companion, being generous with my gold and agreeably attentive to their opinions. Among those I befriended is a sergeant named Antabio, a veteran of many years’ service, a born and bred Pavonan. He is a gruff fellow, heavy browed, who often wears the hint of a pained scowl much, which only occasionally blossoms into its full form. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaEndSeason7a_zpsxkbottdn.jpg)

To understand much of what he says requires careful consideration, for his words must be untangled and weighed, and much that he has not said needs be ascertained from what he has said. Having no guile in him, nor being loath to reveal his inner thoughts, I was able to learn that he held Morr to be the God of gods, having been taught as much from his youth. For him the world is divided not between good and evil, nor between chaos and law, but between those ‘enlightened’ souls who accept Morr as supreme, and all those who do not. The latter, even including the Reman Morrite clergy, are his enemies: when he fought against the Astianans he fought against sinners; when he marched against Prince Girenzo’s forces, he faced wicked heretics. He holds no doubt concerning this, nor questions whether Duke Guidobaldo is in full agreement with these beliefs. He speaks in awe of the duke, even praising his lord for sacrificing his own son in the taking of Trantio; and he curses all who voice fears or doubts concerning the duke’s actions. He even described the fall of Trantio to the ogres as a final cleansing brought about by Morr’s will! When I asked why Morr’s will had not then stopped the Ogres razing Astiano and was now allowing their close approach to Pavona, he said simply that they were being drawn in for the kill. I thus learned that the expression he so often wears belies his simple satisfaction that nothing at all is wrong, and that Pavona cannot fall. One might take one look at his face and think him a man tortured by doubt, but no, it is disgust for the rest of the world that pains him, driven by conviction not doubt. I suppose even now, as he stands at his post in the defensive earthworks that ring the entirety of the city walls (making a double layer of defences), he expects the brutes’ bodies will simply pile up before the Pavonan guns and his great sword.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaEndSeason7b_zpsytw8swpl.jpg)

I do not claim that many Pavonans have Antabio’s child-like conviction that the duke cannot fail, but those born in the city do for the most part share his complete devotion to the one god, Morr, and believe only the priests and rulers of Pavona truly know Morr’s will. Until recently, however, Pavona was a growing Empire, and many of the more recent recruits to its army are not natives of the city, but hail from one of the newly conquered states. On the whole I would describe these soldiers as the worst sort of men, base rogues who have been lifted from deserved misery in their own homelands to become swaggering and proud in their livery of blue and white. Some were released from gaols, others being brigands who sought to enrich themselves from their own countrymen by serving their conquerors. Their conceit is made all the more hateful by the fact that their own homelands have been destroyed either by the brutes or by Pavonan soldiers attempting to deny the brutes the pleasure of doing so, and yet they still serve their new masters and count themselves among the best of the Duke’s men.

One such fellow is a young Astianan called Goldoni. He serves with the most recently formed company of handgunners and yet to hear him speak you would think him a member of one of the oldest and most famed military institutions in Tilea. Upon first encounter, he appears to be the very model of a soldier, deporting himself with the confidence of a disciplined fighter, and careful to ensure his clothes and trappings are kept pristine and in good working order. But as soon as a degree of familiarity has been established, his course wit begins to manifest, brought into play to decorate his malice and embellish the litany of tales he tells about his cruel actions.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaEndSeason7e_zpsjb9kqarz.jpg)

There is no religion in him, and it might seem that nothing more than brutality fuels his fastidious service as a soldier, but when one probes a little deeper it is plain that his new but steadfast loyalty to the Pavonan cause arises at least partially from his fear concerning what fate would have in store for him if he were to leave his current profession. His cruelty, although entirely sufficient in itself to make him do what he has done, conjoins with his desire for self-preservation and the fear it instills, to produce the vile creature he is.

Much work has been done to circumvallate the already strong city walls with earthwork defences, each bastion bristling with stormpoles and many containing very modern, low, stone-built gun platforms. Most of the Pavonan handgunners have been stationed there, and drill daily to prepare themselves for what is considered the inevitable (if delayed) assault by Bouldergut’s huge army.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaEndSeason7f_zpsdzlhqzfo.jpg)

Perhaps Boulderguts already knows of these formidable double-defences, and this is what delays him? Or perhaps he is happy to plunder everything else that the city state of Pavona has to offer, satisfied that Duke Guidobaldo’s army is afraid to move away from said defences?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaEndSeason7d_zpscypctcyf.jpg)

Pavona’s army thus remains a mighty force, perhaps being greater than ever before? Yet although at the height of its military strength, still the entirety of its newly conquered possessions have been razed to the ground, and its own homeland is even now being destroyed in a piecemeal fashion. Despite the soldiers' pride, conviction and determination, they are but men. None can tell me why their previously undefeated lord has become so timorous that he refuses to order his vast army to battle, yet none complain either, for what sane-man rushes to face a horde of brutes?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaEndSeason7c_zpsh8r3p5dh.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on June 24, 2016, 05:30:17 PM
Good to see another layer of the story.  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 24, 2016, 07:02:19 PM
This era of Pavonans must think it is wise to build fortresses in depth with that redoubt and cannon in front of the city walls.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 25, 2016, 07:28:29 AM
If the ogres do assault Pavona it'll be player vs player (so far this has been a rarity - players have commanded forces against each other, but not often their own forces) and a battle for the very existence of one player's realm, so I want it to be a challenge. The double defences will have a play effect - the attacker will have to start 24" away from the outer layer of defences (as long as they are defended by troops) thus being further away from the stone wall, inner defences, and thus subject to even more missile attacks for even longer. The attacker will really have to earn a victory - which is appropriate if this is the capital city of a very militaristic state, and could mean the defending player gets knocked out of the campaign!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on June 27, 2016, 07:17:10 AM
Good to see another layer of the story.  :::cheers:::

I second that! :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Inarticulate on July 11, 2016, 08:10:10 PM
I have a LOT of catching up to do on this thread! This looks great Padre!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 25, 2016, 10:06:55 AM
Thanks Inart - I hope it is worth the effort to read. Now back to it (with some possible revelations about past actions)...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sub Sigillo Confessionis
(‘Under the seal of confession’, therefore to be kept secret.)
Near the city of Viadaza, in the rear gardens of the Palazzo Sebardi, at the close of Autumn 2402

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession2_zpstwxvbnfd.jpg)

Lector Bernado could see that Lector Erkhart was ill at ease, stilted by the need to suppress some species of twitch afflicting his arms and head. It made him appear furtive, although upon closer inspection his eyes revealed it was more a consequence of fear. Unlike Lector Bernado, who wore the traditional vermillion robes of his office, Erkhart was dressed very humbly in the course woollen cassock of the lowest orders of priesthood. Bernado had not asked him why, assuming it was because Erkhart had lost his see when the city of Trantio fell, and so thought it either improper or unreasonable to don his robes. Each to his own, thought Bernado, musing on the fact that when he had lost Viadaza if never occurred to him to alter his own wardrobe.

There was little colour in the palatial gardens, it being so late in Autumn, but a lay-brother was busy tidying one of the circular beds of herbs and flowers. Bernado was pleased to see that another part of Viadaza was rid of the stench of corruption, the lingering sense of horror, to recover a sense of normality and peace. Apart from the two Lectors, the only others present were two armoured guards (Bernado was accompanied wherever he went), his secretary Father Piero and one of his little staff of gnomish clerks.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession1_zpsmffrenky.jpg)

Erkhart, like so many others, had begun by asking when the arch-lector would order the army to march again, which, again like so many, quickly turned to begging Bernado to encourage the arch-lector to delay no longer. This surprised him, for he had expected the ruined lector to ask that a force be sent to recapture Trantio. He knew Erkhart had been in conversation with the Disciplinati di Morr and the spiritual leaders of the several flagellant-dedicate congregations, so it was possible he had been won over by their fervour. But then, Erkhart’s exaggeratedly nervous state suggested something more was going on.

Perhaps if Erkhart had joined the dedicates in their self-administered scourging then that would explain his tortured twitches? The truth came to light when he spoke further, describing the flight from Trantio before it’s fall, his own weakness in the face of the Ogres’ advance, and the impossible dilemma of choosing whether to go north with the few or south with the many. Having chosen the north, for that was where the arch lector was, he was then wracked by guilt when he heard what the terrible fate of those who did go south. Here Erkhart’s speech faltered, and he spoke more quietly.

“I know now going north was another part of my penance. I should never have left Trantio at all, and only added insult to injury by doing so.”

Bernado could not think what Erkhart meant by this last comment: ‘Insult to injury’ implied two faults, that his leaving of Trantio was not his only sin.

“But surely you see that without sufficient forces to defend the city it would have been madness to stay?” he said. “How can you accept blame for what was a necessary action brought about by forces beyond your control? If you will not blame the ogres – and I cannot see why you will not lay this evil deed upon their shoulders – then perhaps the blame lies upon Duke Guidobaldo for not providing sufficient forces to defend that which he had himself so violently taken? He was victorious and took his prize - with that came the responsibility too.”

“No, I cannot blame the duke,” answered Erkhart. “For I bear the burden of sin. I should have accepted my punishment, and stayed regardless of the threat. My advice, if you will take it from such as I, who promised so much to so little effect, is this: Do not leave Viadaza. You lost it once and it has been returned to you. Be not so careless, nor regardless of Morr’s will.”

Bernado nodded. “I myself want to stay, and have petitioned his holiness to allow me to do so. But I do not think my wish will be granted for the arch-lector has left Remas to pursue Morr’s will, and so why should we not also be expected to go wherever we are needed?
  (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession4b_zpsk7ynnvjo.jpg)

“Still, I do not see why you blame yourself,” he added. “This talk of punishment and multiple sins. We all make mistakes, for which we ought to be penitent, but to heap such blame upon yourself for acting as you thought best at the time, this I do not understand. I myself delayed giving support for the Viadazan crusade, and although I did finally march with them, fighting upon the field at Pontremola, when I heard the city was lost to the armies of the undead, I did not return. It was not fear that prevented me, although I was afraid, but rather the knowledge that the city was already lost and that my immediate return could not change that. Surely it was just the same with you? What great fault do you believe you bear?”

Lector Erkhart fixed Bernado with an intent gaze, then his eyes unfocused as if to look upon some imagined object.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession4_zpsgo3wwuca.jpg)

“Might we take leave of the others, to talk privately?” Erkhart asked.

Bernado nodded his consent, gesturing to the guards and servants to wait. The two lectors then turned towards the grassy gap between the hedged enclosures, leading towards a statue of Myrmidia in the centre of the gardens.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession3_zpsjemp5sza.jpg)

They walked in silence until they reached the foot of the statue. No-one could hear them now.

“I take it you are not offended by the statue?” asked Bernado, wondering if a man promoted to lectorship by Duke Guidobaldo might share the schismatic Pavonan Morrite monotheism. Capolicchio, lector of Pavona itself, was very much a schismatic, and indeed the highest authority behind the sect.

Erkhart shook his head in a manner that mirrored the twitches he had exhibited earlier. “That is not my sin. I have never had Sagrannalian leanings, nor ever gave the impression I did – not even to gain Duke Guidobaldo’s favour. No, I gained his favour by other means.”

He fell silent, and Bernado knew he was preparing to give his confession.

“Go on,” said Bernado, making the sign of Morr’s blessing. “Sub sigillo confessionis.”

Erkhart’s hands twisted together before his waist, as if each was trying to restrain the other. “My sin was not schism. Nor was it leaving Trantio - that was merely my failure to accept my penance. I should have stayed to be butchered by the brutes.” Here, momentarily, he faltered again.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession5_zpsst7phucp.jpg)

Then, fixing Bernado with his gaze, perhaps to make it clear that he was hiding nothing, that this was a full and frank confession, he continued. “I was sent to correct Duke Giudobaldo, to deliver the edict for peace between all princes, to directly order him to cease his vainglorious war at a time when greater Tilea was in need of defence against the true enemy. I personally swore to the arch-lector that I would apply myself body and soul to that task, yet I was lured from that straight and true path by offer of the gift of lectorship of the cruelly conquered city of Trantio. I grasped the tainted office with both hands, and even wrote to the arch-lector to inform him how all that was done, by both the duke and myself, was good, proper and for the greater glory of Morr. I told his holiness the duke was a righteous lord, who had sacrificed his son for the good of the people of Trantio, and by removing the tyrant Girenzo could now set about protecting them from the undead threat.”

“I saw the letter,” said Bernado, remembering how at the time he had wondered if there was something more to the story, something that had not been said. He spoke sternly, “Continue.”

“From that time the knowledge that it was not truly so, that I had succumbed to greed and a lust for power, gnawed at me. And still my own greed was so great that I lied to the arch-lector.”

“How so? Confess fully or not at all, for a partial account is tantamount is merely another lie.”

“I told the arch-lector that I arrived after the fall of the city, and so Duke Guidobaldo knew nothing of the holy edict ordering peace among the living until after the war against the vampires was won. That was my greatest lie, for I had arrived at Trantio two days before the assault. The Duke promised me the reward of high office to buy my silence. More than that, I was to mislead the arch-lector so that it would appear the duke had completed his war before the inconvenient edict was shown to him.”

This is the sin that makes him ashamed to wear his robes of office, thought Bernado. When he looked at Erkhart, however, he could see there was yet more to know. He decided not to press his penitant further, for the man’s agony was plain enough, and it was merely a matter of waiting. 

“Even as I took up residence in the palace it became plain that my sin had spawned more evil in its wake. When I asked what had become of Lector Silvestro, I was met first by silence, then later by the story of a mob who burst into the palace to murder him for being the friend of, and counsellor to, Prince Girenzo. But although there were plentiful signs of disturbance in the palace, and all of worth had been taken, I never found any of Silvestro’s servants who had been present that day to witness the event. I cannot say what was done, but I wondered just who had goaded the mysterious mob to murder a priest of Morr, when all would surely know they were damned for doing so.

“Then, just as I began to wonder if the duke would allow the Sharlian Riders who had accompanied me from Remas to return there, knowing as they did that we had arrived before the final battle, I learned that their service had conveniently been bought. They were promised increased pay to enter Pavonan service. I spoke to Captain Presrae and he seemed blissfully unaware of the whole affair, either because he cared nothing for such things, or
cared too little to question the matter. He knew I was carrying the edict, but not its full nature, nor what I had written in return.

“But worse, much worse, was yet to come. I had suspicion enough to be concerned, and yet I did nothing to prevent it. My sins were multiplying and I was becoming crushed under the weight of them. Although I had allowed my silence to be bought, another priest-emissary, Father Franco de Pistoni, was of course carrying the edict to Prince Girenzo of Trantio: the arch-lector had sent priests with letters to every Tilean prince and ruler. Father Franco, of course, had been unable to enter the city because of the besieging Pavonan army, and he also knew, of course, that I had arrived before Duke Guidobaldo ordered the assault. I was afraid he might return to the arch-lector to reveal the truth, and in my weakness, I expressed this fear to the duke.”

Bernado was beginning to comprehend the full horror of what had been done, and yet he still hoped that it might not be true. “I heard that Father Franco was killed by brigands, a party of Compagnia del Sole soldiers fleeing from the Battle of the Princes, who were later killed by Pavonan soldiers for their crime.”

“Yes, the murderers were killed, and without trial,” said Erkhart, “three days after I spoke to the duke of my concerns.”

“Do you know whether the murderers were in fact Compagnia men?” asked Bernado.

“Most likely. But whoever they were, none could now reveal what really happened. Were they made to do it? Ordered? Tricked? And if they were not Compagnia men, who were they? Why did they so conveniently kill that particular priest, when there’s no sane Tilean alive who would not baulk at committing such a heinous crime?”

“But you have no certain proof of Pavonan wrongdoing,” pondered Bernado. “Unless … Did you speak to Duke Guidobaldo about this?

“No, I confess I dare not do so. He would have thought it an implied accusation, and I was clinging to the hope that some greater good might result from my sins and the duke’s transgressions. Now that Trantio has fallen I know that nothing good came of it, only righteous punishment.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Confession6_zpsafltq34l.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 25, 2016, 10:10:22 AM
 :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 25, 2016, 10:19:26 AM
Been waiting for this! Glad you're still doing them. :)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 25, 2016, 10:42:13 AM
I am indeed still doing them. What delayed me between the previous post and this is writing 6 individual player reports (for their eyes only), painting loads more new figures, new scenery projects, and then getting orders from all 6 players, which involves e-mails, phonecalls, meetings, Q/A and reviews as other issues arise. So I can be hyper-busy with it (and loving it all) even when stuff doesn't appear here for a while. I've got more stories planned, and should begin 'movement' of army banners etc before the weekend, which hopefully will generate battles as well as more stories.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 25, 2016, 11:19:13 AM
I can't wait for more of these. Awesome read. :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 23, 2016, 09:58:45 PM
Prequel: The Battle for Ebino
Winter IC 2402-3. A short distance south of Ebino

It was less than half an hour since first light and already the burgeoning camp was a hive of activity. Many within had laboured through the night, attempting to satisfy the arch-lector’s demand that the earthwork circumvallation be completed within two days. Considering the proximity of the vampire-ruled city of Ebino, there were very few who begrudged this hurried deadline and even less who yearned for sleep. What mortal man would relish the prospect of being unconscious and undefended as a force of unliving monsters sallied out from the deathly quiet walls?

Having finally shrugged off the queasy terror gifted by yet another night-long torrent of nightmares, partly achieved by the ritual of his morning prayers and partly with a practised effort of will, Father Biagino decided he ought to take the air and stretch his legs. He was keen to see how the camp’s defences were coming along, not least because of the future horrors suggested by his nightmares. The dreams he remembered, despite his urge to forget, had revealed to him a grand yet grisly army much greater and more terrible than that he had faced at Pontremola. He told himself that it could not be so – only yesterday the scouts had confidently reported a weak force garrisoning Ebino – and yet there it was. Before the dream army, and quite unable to escape due to some mysterious thickening of the air, he became as a mouse before a bull - an old, diseased mouse with legs stuck in glue-like mud before the snorting, red-eyed king of all demonic bulls. As the mighty foe came on relentlessly, he turned in desperation to see what safety his comrades could provide, only to discover that they too were living-dead, their eyes empty of all life apart from hateful hunger. The enemy was on all sides. He had not a friend in the world. When he threw his hands up to block out the sight, which was all he could think to do, pain seared into his palms. Tearing them away again, he saw blood pouring from ragged holes. From there, the nightmare took a turn for the worse, becoming the part he could not bring himself even to think about.

He was accompanied by the guard who had been placed as his tent sometime after he retired for the night, a veteran Reman crossbowman called Fazzio who proved to be a talkative fellow. It was a quality Biagino much appreciated for the distraction it gave, and therefore one he was happy to encourage.

“Quite a difference already,” said the crossbowman. “I saw this gate just after dark and it was little more than a few marker posts.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar5_zpsptinkplj.jpg)

Biagino stopped a moment to look the earthworks over. Without a doubt much work had been done, for it was no small feat to enclose a camped army as large as this Holy Army of Morr, but it was still far from a reassuring sight. Small sections of earthwork were in place, but most were little more than low piles of earth, the traced beginnings of a defence achieving little more than marking out where the completed circumvallation would sit. He pointed at a finished section by the gate and asked, “Will they make the whole circuit as high?”

“I should think so, father,” said Fazzio. “As per the general’s orders: an outer ditch with an earthen bank no less than four feet high, parapeted throughout, with gabions at the gates. O’course, if we stay any longer than a few days, it’ll grow much bigger than that. This is just for starters.”

They had stopped at the spot where the elaborate volley gun had been emplaced. It had been taken from maestro Angelo’s steam engine, and thus had no wheeled carriage.  Just as Biagino pondered the consequences of this, Fazzio spoke.

“Well that’s not going anywhere soon,” he declared. “If it comes to battle here at the camp, I hope this is the spot it’s needed. Seems to me to be a distinct lack of artillery in this army, considering what we’re up against and where they’re at.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar1_zpskumljazt.jpg)

Biagino simply nodded. He had passed the maestro’s steam engine as he made his way to his tent last night. The entire upper platform had been torn away, thus removing all its guns, big and small, so that in its stead a huge ramp could be fabricated upon its back. This was the result of one of the maestro’s suggestions concerning how to assault the city, what with both walls and a moat stubbornly obstructing the army’s passage. He had made the idea sound so simple: remove the gun-platform and in its place mount a flat bridge of roughly-hewn boards obliquely rising from a little way above the ground at the rear, while extending out beyond the front until reaching the same height as the crenellations. Then, using the engine’s proven strength, roll on up to the wall until close enough to allow soldiers to run up onto the battlements. Of course, the maestro had added, if the enemy were living Tileans the enterprise would be severely compromised by artillery fire from the towers, but in this case, it could be assumed there would be no such danger. Biagino had marvelled how the maestro could make the prospect of fighting the living dead sound like an advantage.

Several soldiers were attending to the multi-barrelled piece, while others were filling the gabion beside it with rocks.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar7_zpsykkgj6am.jpg)

A large, rubble filled wagon filled stood nearby, with a sweating soldier aloft hurling the contents to the ground …
  (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar3_zps8cjkhmvp.jpg)

… whereupon two labourers wielding pick axes broke the stones into manageable chunks.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar4_zps72uchxxx.jpg)

If this was the effort required simply to place an engine of war in some earthen defence-works, thought Biagino, then surely the maestro’s breezy description of what was required to make an entirely novel, massive and mobile military amalgamation of bridge and ramp had been somewhat rash? 

Biagino turned to his companion and asked, “Do you think the maestro’s plan to mount the walls will work?”

Fazzio grinned, making himself look a tad foolish in the process, and answered, “Why not? As long as the engine moves, and the bridge upon it is long enough, and strong enough, and the enemy does nothing to impede its progress, then yes, it should successfully deliver our lads into the arms of the foe.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar6_zpsksknfy8u.jpg)
 
“Besides,” he added, “if it doesn’t work, then there’s the petard. Maybe all the maestro’s engine really has to do is draw the enemy’s attention away from the petard?”

Biagino said nothing, but he had been even less convinced by the maestro’s (second) proposition to construct the ‘biggest petard Tilea has ever known’. The proposed components were lying next to the area where engine was being converted, little more than a rusty, old cannon barrel brought from Viadaza and a battered, spare boiler for the engine, to be fastened together somehow and mounted upon a carriage so that the whole could trundle right up to be placed against the gate, there to blow it apart. Biagino’s doubts were not the of the usual kind regarding petards, which tended to concern the difficulty in finding a petardier, a volunteer mad enough to attempt the placing of it. There really was no difficulty there, what with scores of fanatical flagellants and dedicates committed to sacrificing themselves for Morr in any way necessary, perhaps the messier the better? Rather, he worried about how the petardier could possibly hope to reach its destination without deadly interference from the enemy. The undead might not have missiles to shoot, but they could surely hurl rocks, even just tip them over the parapet? And worse, in his dreams he had watched ghastly spirits swarming through stone and wood as if there were nothing there at all, which meant they could sally out without even opening the gate. 

Looking back at the volley gun, Biagino watched a matross ramming home an iron ball into one of the nine barrels, while yet another rock was tumbled into the wicker-weaved gabion beside him.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar2_zpstadra2pu.jpg)

The two of them then left the soldiers to their labours and walked a little further to a stretch of earthen barricade heaped so low it allowed easy access back into the camp’s interior. Biagino led and Fazzio followed as they headed towards the very heart of the camp, where a second, much smaller ring of earthworks had been quickly thrown up, the beginnings of an inner defensive circuit to surround the army’s carroccio. This time, however, the work had apparently already halted. No-one laboured here, as if the pathetically low mound was already considered sufficient for purpose. Instead, a congregation of clergy and dedicates had gathered within, completely surrounding the holy wagon, being joined in ominous chanting, part prayer and part summonation of Morr’s divine presence.

Biagino heard Fazzio gasp at his side.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar17_zpsbqy7kbxv.jpg)

The physical cause of Fazzio’s audible surprise was nothing more than the barest rippling of a breeze rolling out from the enclosure, but it was laced with a hair-raising and gut-wrenching sensation of powerful intent, like one might suppose a god’s breath would feel as it washed over you.  Biagino had sensed it too, perhaps more forcefully than the crossbowman, because for him it evoked memories of rituals and rites, of prayers he himself had employed to conjure curses and blessings in battle, and especially the terrors inhabiting his dreams. He did not gasp, but for a mad moment he yearned to throw his head back and scream, allowing the spiritual potency to penetrate his being and set his soul alight. He held the compulsion in check, for he knew if he were to give in to it, he would surely and immediately slide into a new kind of madness - the same divinely gifted ecstasy that coursed through the bodies and souls of flagellants as the pain of their scourging reached an unbearable peak.

The congregation had arrayed itself in a ring around the large wagon, consisting of both ordained priests and avowed lay brothers, as well as fanatical cultists and dedicates. A flagellant prophet stood by the carroccio, waving a holy book in one hand and a heavy, studded club in the other.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar14_zpswoks8cmr.jpg)

Upon the wagon-shrine’s lower level a cleric spoke prayers over the gilded tabernacle containing a carefully selected collection of holy Reman relics brought by order of the arch-lector. Upon the upper platform two priests, somewhat incongruously framed by brass-barrelled swivel guns, gestured with raised hands to lead the prayerful chanting of those gathered around. Fluttering above their heads was the cross-keyed standard of the Reman Church of Morr, showing both the gold and silver keys to Morr’s garden

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar12_zpsvhtal8tp.jpg)

Biagino had to look twice before he realised that one of the officiating priests was none the less than Erkhart, the lector of Trantio, the very same man who only weeks before had arrived wretched and broken at Viadaza, assailed by doubts and the guilt of having abandoned his city. Now, dressed in a humble woollen cassock, he had the steely glint of a fanatic in his eyes, and looked every bit like the sort of man who could successfully channel mighty Morr’s divine will.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar13_zpsrmdbt1an.jpg)

“In manus tuas, Morrus, commendo spiritum meum,” prayed Fazzio.

Biagino raised his hand to bless the crossbowman, to reassure him. The power of prayer was indeed evident here, even to a layman. The arch-lector himself had ordered the holy ritual, intending that its potency would crescendo into a force sufficient to wash over the entire city of Ebino, undoing the dark-magics animating the undead. While the maestro Angelo was to use mathematics and mechanical skill to forge his ingenious weapons of war, the church would call upon divine power to strike at the foe. Biagino, however, was not reassured. In his dreams the vampires were unstoppable, their will undeniable, their servants relentless, and inevitably their curse swallowed up the whole world. And if his dreams were only half right, then this ritual was still not enough.

Suddenly a new voice, an ululation more strained and crazed than all the rest, surged up to dominate. It seemed to contain no words, but in truth was just one name, sung without ending: Morr. And it emanated from the mouth of the wild-haired fanatic with the club. His hair blazed from his head like black fire, and his waist was wrapped in penitential chains upon which iron balls swung to bruise his shins.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar11_zpswbdniwos.jpg)

“ … oooor … oooor ... oooor” went the wail, the sound of the crowd’s chanting undiminished and yet seeming so. Then the wail began to split and fragment, multiplying into a crazed choir of sound. Biagino peered at the fanatic, wondering how such a thing was possible, his bemusement only ending when he caught a glimpse of motion upon the other side of the sacred compound. More fanatics had appeared, racing around the periphery, their weapons brandished, their mouths agape as they too cried out Morr’s holy name.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar10_zps4vjty9z2.jpg)     

Fazzio flinched when he too saw the motion, his crossbow falling from his shoulder and his other hand reaching for his sword. Then he too saw what it was. He exhaled, then sniffed. “Here they come,” he said, as if the scene were something tired and familiar. “Father, forgive me, but with a battle brewing I can’t decide if we need more or less of their kind.”

Biagino said nothing. At Pontremola he had witnessed almost every regiment on the field flee from the foe – the battle having been won by General d’Alessio’s slaying of the vampire duke alone, not by any resoluteness or courage in the massed ranks. When the vampire duke fell, his army weakened across the field, some stumbling, others crumbling away, until those left retired under the command of a lesser vampire. There was little the broken Viadazan army could do to stop them leaving, but at least they had won the battle. The Holy Army of Morr could not rely on such a stroke of luck to win its battles, especially as it was unknown whether the vampire duchess would even put herself in harm’s way. Instead they needed fighting men who could and would stand their ground against such a terrifying foe. These flagellants were those kind of men. Once they had whipped themselves into a crazed frenzy, they would fight to the last. Whether or not a general could ensure they did so to some purpose on the field, that was a different matter. 

“Hello!” said Fazzio all of a sudden. “Now there’s a leader made to inspire warriors!”

Biagino broke from his reverie and saw immediately who Fazzio had meant. At the head of the column of flagellating fanatics, sword in hand, cassock hoiked up to allow him to run unimpeded, chins and belly a-wobbling, was the Campogrottan priest Peppe di Lazzaro.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar8_zpsgzi278pr.jpg)

“If he carries on like that he’ll do himself an injury,” said Fazzio.

“Isn’t that the point?” quipped Biagino as the crazed priest hurtled passed them pursued by a large gang of much more fearsome followers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar9_zpshsks474b.jpg)

There was little either of them could do while the frantic procession cavorted by them, swinging around the sacred compound and heading off back towards where they came from. No doubt they would re-appear in a little while as their violent dance circumnavigated whatever other part of the camp they had chosen to navigate by. Once they had gone from sight Biagino suddenly felt as if he was being watched. Glancing off to the side he saw the arch-lector’s colourful tent, attended by his Reman guards. It was not them who were looking at him, however, but the arch-lector himself, from within the shadowed interior.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar15_zps5ilwwopc.jpg)
 
Biagino supposed the arch-lector would surely beckon him over or at least make some other sign of recognition, as he had done on most other occasions. But no, he just stood motionless, staring.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWar16_zps8jhnjsea.jpg)
 
It made Biagino wonder what his holiness had dreamt last night.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on August 24, 2016, 07:40:41 AM
Ahhh a tasty update indeed, and read by me in the very morning! Gracias Padre. :)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 25, 2016, 04:37:16 PM
Thanks Xath. I know you've seen this next part elsewhere but I thought some of the readers here might like to have a behind the scenes look at this part of the campaign. Thus:

Appendix to the above post

This is to reveal some of the activities and preparation involved to create the above prequel. The battle has already been fought (thanks Daz and Uryens for your time and enthusiasm), and I am now in the process of sorting all the photos and writing up the report, although I have to admit I am almost certainly going to put another prequel up before I get to the battle. There’s more story to be told before the fighting begins. I might, however, incorporate that second prequel into the bat rep.

First, it might interest some of you to see what sort of game communication passes between me and the players of the campaign. It is from this, a combination of my acting as a GM and playing the parts of all the NPCS, and the players controlling their player characters’ actions and words, that the story evolves and the campaign progresses. When I write I feel like I am reporting events that have happened, rather than writing a story.

A (shortened) sequence of communications between myself and the player controlling the arch-lector (and Remas)
(NB: There are reasons why I can reveal some back-stage stuff anout this particular player-character).

Quote
Me: Your large army (4823 pts) of Remans and Arabs marched north along the road in turn one, and managed to cross the bridge at Pontremola [H16]. Lord Silvano and his elven guards scouted ahead (moving into [G17]) and managed to get a look at the small city of Ebino. They arrive back at your force at the start of turn 2 to tell you that there is a large undead force of just under 4000 pts garrisoning the walled and moated (!) city.  What will you do? All your advisers think it would be madness to attempt to assault such a walled city if it is true that you have only 800 pts more than them. Also, your army is not really equipped for an assault against walls (lots of horse soldiers and only light, mobile, field guns) which is, admittedly, an oversight!

Your advisers suggest thinking of some way to lure the enemy out to battle? (Would it be too much to hope that they simply march out to face you?) Or perhaps passing by to attack the (possibly) less well defended realm of Miragliano. The downside of this last plan is that it is winter, the river Iseo is full, and the bridge over the river is in Ebino! You could march by and all the way up to the bridge in the Ogre-destroyed realm of Ravola, but (a) there may still be ogres present there (as is indeed rumoured to be the case) and (b) you would be going so far north to get around them they could simply march south and cause great destruction with you too far away to stop them!

So, do you assault anyway? (It's hard to imagine that blockading the undead to starve them would achieve anything) or can you think of a way to lure them out to battle.) OR have you other ideas? Please discuss. In truth, the walled city of Ebino forms a very effective fortified gate to prevent any approach to Miragliano. This holy war is not going to be easy! If you cannot think of a plan, it looks like you're gonna end up camped here a while! It might thus stop them coming south, but it won't really bring the war to an end!

Quote
Player ('Cagicus' on this forum): Ha! I think you're enjoying this! The arch lector takes to his tent and his advisors stand outside with worried faces... One of them says to the others: "Do you think we should have mentioned about the cannon?" The others just look at him with a steady gaze and he bites his lip and looks down.

Meanwhile, the Arch Lector thinks to himself and then gathers his advisors, military and priestly. A living army would have weaknesses - supply lines, discontent within the ranks, spies in the city. An undead army is sustained by unholy magic. What are its weaknesses? Where does it draw its magical sustenance from? Can the priesthood of Morr disrupt this somehow? Would prayer help? Do any of the undead leave the city in small groups? Can they be picked off to lessen the numbers slowly?  If the city was surrounded by an unbreakable siege, could the undead simply continue in existence indefinitely without need for any supply?

The arch lector is in a dilemma. He doesn't want to waste good lives in a pointless assault doomed to failure, yet the thought of leaving them there galls him badly. He doesn't think it is likely that he can acquire further armies easily, though perhaps he can send for some cannon while beseiging the city. That would however take a long time as they would probably have to be manufactured and conveyed from Remas.
He wonders about  … (GM: Section edited out in case other players are reading this!) … He then thinks again about what sustains the undead. The vampire counts are the channels of this unholy magic. He wonders if the destruction of the vampire leader would cause the undead army to crumble to nothing, releasing their souls to morr? If so, then perhaps his main, or only, aim is to destroy each and every vampire. The ranks of skeleton warriors are incidental. The vampires perhaps have some remnant of humanity within them. Not, perhaps compassion, but maybe, pride, greed, anger, foolishness even?

Does he know the name and backstory of the leader of the undead force?  (GM: The player was not aware that the duchess was within the city.)

He is considering how the leader might be manipulated to come forth from the city. Is it likely to be the late countess? If so, he ruminates on whether he could revive his previous plan  … (GM: Again, section edited out for gameplay reasons) … He wonders about the feasibility of some sort of assassination attempt perhaps via a small raid on the city by a small group of selected men who could sneak past the sentries, locate the leader and dispatch her. He reckons that the undead never sleep but wonders about whether a Morrite priest, perhaps even an arch lector, might be able to go with such a group if he could shield them from detection by the grace of Morr. This would be a risky plan. He would give his life in a moment if it would rid Tilea of all undead but would have to think carefully.

Then a difficult thought comes to him. Could he seek parley with the leader and then betray her with an attack at the last moment? This is something he would never think of in a living opponent (because the loss of his reputation would be far more damaging than any possible gain.) However, he has no reputation to maintain among the undead and he considers that the other powers in Tilea would see things the same. So he is considering, but not decided upon, the following:

* Siege, or at least stopping the army nearby and fortifying a good spot. Establish supply lines and keep wide ranging scouting. Begin building siege equipment. Send back to Remas for them to begin building cannon. (perhaps) recall the engineer who I think went east?
* Meanwhile scouts to probe the city and nearby for weaknesses or ways in
* Meanwhile he discusses some of these possibilities with his closest advisors and prays to Morr for guidance...


Quote
Me (imparting advice given by the arch-lector's NPC advisors):
Re: “the priesthood of Morr disrupting” the necromantic magic
Interesting. It is indeed possible that by surrounding the city, blockading in such a manner that none can leave or arrive without conflict, whilst maintaining prayer and ritual of the strongest kind, then you might indeed begin to work against the magical power sustaining the undead. You could turn the Carroccio into a temple of Morr, a focus of your god's power, and lead the prayers yourself.

Re: The enemy lLeader
The undead leader is very likely to be the woman who was formerly the Countess Maria of Ebino (i.e. this very place) and still calls herself the same. It also seems likely that Lord Adolfo (who escaped from Viadaza during your assault) came here too. You have considered various means to lure the vampire Countess out (the  … edited …, pride, parley, etc). That would only work if she was foolish enough to fall for it. Yet this is the vampire who somehow captured Viadaza (using Adolfo, by 'turning' him) without even an assault, and who has now become possibly the ruler of all that was once the vampire duke's. Is she the sort who would fall for such ploys?

Re: feasibility of assassination attempt
This too is a possibility, but seems for so many reasons to be a very desperate plan and unlikely to succeed. Vampires are strong, intelligent and tough, their servants unsleeping as you say. To enter and travel through such a walled and moated city, garrisoned by a whole army of undead, with more than one powerful vampire possibly within, would seem an almost certainly impossible plan, surely?

Thus, in conversation with you advisers, based on what you have suggested and pondered, the following possibilities arise, which could be combined:

1. Begin a siege, perhaps initially fortifying a good spot nearby, establishing supply lines and wide-range scouting. Begin building siege equipment. Send back to Remas for cannon. (You suggested sending for the Pavonan engineer who went south BUT you have Angelo da Leoni the genius with your army, tending his machine. Surely he could oversee the construction of siege engines? See below)

2. In addition: Angelo da Leoni could attempt to convert his steam engine to become a self-powered siege tower of some kind? (The existence of a moat might put a spanner in the works here, unless he can incorporate such a consideration into his design.) Or he might be ordered to come up with some other means to break the walls?

3. In addition or instead: You could summon your priests, and create a prayer-based focus for Morr's power using the carroccio altar, attended by the chanting dedicates and fanatic flaggelants, to channel anti-necromantic magic into the city. That might either allow your forces to attack the weakened city, or draw the undead out and allow you to fight them in a field battle where your forces have at least a chance.

4. In addition or instead: your scouts to probe the city and nearby for weaknesses or ways in.

You could try all these things at once. If your prayer did weaken his army, Daz (the undead player) would have to decide whether to stay put and allow this (or come up with a way to counter it) or sally forth to do something about it.

… Various other communications followed, clarifying actual plans, including …

Quote
Me: Angelo da Leoni says he could convert his steam engine to become a self-powered siege tower simply by means of replacing the gun platform with a long, elevated, counterbalanced ramp that would allow troops to cross the moat and access the wall parapet. Its impressive volley gun would not be wasted as it could be sighted on a bastion in the defences. A method he can think of to breach the walls would involve the placing of a petard, cleverly designed by himself, to blow the gate (hopefully no-one will be 'hoist by their own petard'). Either of these methods involves attacking the walls, as in getting close enough for battle - but the undead don't tend to have much missile capability and so neither would be under anything like the withering sort of fire and battery that a living Tilean army might throw at you. Magical attack, on the other hand, and zombies bursting from the ground ... that's a different matter. So, (a) will you allow Angelo to convert your machine? And/or (b) to come up with a massive petard charge? If one or both, then an assault could be attempted as soon as the one or two were completed, involving a scenario battle of great fun - perhaps one of the best games yet! Attempting to do both might increase or decrease your chances of achieving at least one point of access, probably increase. Daz would have to work out what was going on as the game commenced, based on what the models looked like.

… and so the communication went on.

The Undead player was more brief, and basically asked if he could hide his true strength from the foe, to which part of my answer was:
Quote
“It is possible - it's not as if your soldiers need to light cooking and heating fires or lanterns or go to the privy! They can simply stand wherever you put them indefinitely, and so could simply be hidden behind the walls or inside buildings and towers.”
Thus, after consulting the campaign scouting rules, factoring in ... well, the factors ... and making a few dice rolls, the resulting correction from the Reman scouts to tell the arch lector that there was only about 1000 points defending the city.

As a result of all this, and in preparation for the game, I set about altering and scratch-building models:

The petard, pushed (of course) by fanatics:
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWarAppendixPicPetard_zpssl5uzpok.jpg)

And the beginnings of the platform (the fact that I have not modelled the completed version is a clue to what is coming next in the story!):
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWarSetUpForPhotos2_zpsqubmssdj.jpg)

And of course, I set up the dioramas for the above prequel. Here is the set up for photos in the second part:
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PrequelHolyWarSetUpForPhotos_zpsqwlnxcnf.jpg)


The above being merely some of what goes on behind the story! Comments welcome.

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on August 25, 2016, 10:05:04 PM
I've got a good feeling about this one. Morr will be with the Arch Lector and the undead abomination will be destroyed and the souls of the dead freed to walk in the garden of Morr.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 25, 2016, 10:13:27 PM
Oooh, as if you don't know the result! Mind you, when I mentioned it to your mother-in-law over the phone, you did say the garbled message that got through to you was "something about Hannibal Lector"!

All that aside, I fully endorse your hopes and dreams for the prosperity of Tilea and the Holy Church of Morr.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 25, 2016, 10:56:28 PM
The Battle for Ebino, Part One
Winter IC 2420-3. A short distance south of Ebino

As Biagino looked away, lest the arch-lector notice his stare and take offence, a sound erupted from back where he had come from. Drums – the call to arms – and shouting. The chanting ceased immediately as all the gathered clergy and dedicates turned to look. Soldiers were tumbling from their huts and tents, joining the throng running towards their colours and ensigns.

“I think that means they’re coming, father,” said Fazzio. “And there I was a-thinking we were to do the attacking.”

“But the scouts said they were only a small force,” Biagino. “Why would they leave the walls?”

“Either the scouts were wrong, or the enemy doesn’t care about being outnumbered.” He sniffed, then added, “My money’s on both.”

Biagino recalled how he had thought it strange when the scouts corrected their earlier estimations of the enemy’s size, reporting that the defending force had greatly diminished. It was suggested a large part of their strength had marched away towards Miragliano, although many present had simply assumed fear was the cause of the scouts’ original overestimation. Perhaps instead the contradiction was part of a ploy to lure the Holy Army of Morr into a false sense of security? Perhaps what he had seen in his dreams - an army with a front stretching at least as wide as  their own - had been closer to the truth?

Suddenly he was jostled and Fazzio had to catch him so he did not fall. The fanatical dedicates were pouring past the pair of them. Instinctively Biagino put his hands over his head, for some part of him knew that they carried every conceivable sort of armament, including the sort of clumsy instruments that no sane man would call a weapon. Once they had passed he wondered why they had abandoned the carroccio, when their ritual had been so obviously working, but when he glanced at it he saw they had not done so. Several many remained with the wagon, Lector Erkhart and Father Peppe di Lazzaro amongst them.

“Best be off, father,” said Fazzio. “I reckon we’ll both be needed in this fight. In our own ways, that is.”

Biagino nodded and the two of them joined the general mass of soldiers heading off towards the camp’s periphery.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some Mechanics: Battle Scenario Rules

Deployment:
The Holy Army of Morr will deploy in a semi-completed earthwork-fortified camp, with some restrictions on space.  The Undead Army of the Vampire Countess Maria will deploy 24” away from the earthworks.

Missing units:
One unit of the Holy Army of Morr has already been destroyed by a (‘paper battle’) sally by the Vargheists – the arabyan horse are no more. They did manage, against the odds, to get a countershot off, killing one of the monsters, but then they got cut to pieces, losing eight of their number to the charge, then the rest being charged again before they reached their camp. The undead player has one Vargheist missing. Sad.

Helblaster (Removed from steam tank platform)
This is already set up on the defences somewhere fixed - it has no carriage.

Carroccio
This begins kind of ‘stuck’ within its compound, but could become moveable after effort.

* To move it the order has to be given. Roll D6 subsequent player turns. It will move the next turn on 6+, next turn on 4+, next turn and subsequent on 3+.

* It has a number of ‘free’ (no points paid) flagellants with it -  6D6 rolled before battle starts. These cannot move more than 6” away from the carroccio, unless they are pursuing a fleeing foe.

The carroccio may, depending on what is done with it, and rolls, increase the range of its immune to fear & Battle Standard effect, or perhaps have a weakening effect on necromantic magic. To do either there needs to be a minimum of a dozen flagellants present.

* To increase the range of the carroccio’s immune to fear and battle standard effect by 2D3”, the attendant flagellant fanatics must not move or be in combat, instead spending the turn praying. In the magic phase they must pass an Ld test. This is a permanent increase (for this battle).

* To affect the undead enemy’s magic pool, the attendant flagellants must not move or be in combat, spending the turn flagellating themselves, and thus apply rules for the ‘End is Nigh’! If at least one model is removed as a casualty of this self-harm, the undead enemy player’s magic pool is reduced by D3 power dice in their next magic phase.

Steam Tank
Currently being converted to carry a large ramp, with scaffolding around the machine. All artillery pieces have been removed. In order to move it must spend 2+ steam points: the first steam point doesn’t generate movement, but rather allows the engine to break it free from the scaffolding (etc) around it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Holy Army of Morr @ 4854 pts

Arch-Lector’s Own troops (plus the Viadazan clergy & fanatics) @ 2195 pts:
Arch-Lector of Morr Calictus II @ 201 Tilean Noble
Urbano D’Alessio, Condottiere General @ 172 pts
Priest of Morr, Fr. Federico Tinti)@ 55 pts
Priest of Morr, Fr. Peppe di Lazzaro, Obsidian amulet & Gold Sigil Sword @ 100
Priest of Morr, Fr. Biagino @ 85 pts
7 Knights with full armour and command @ 186 pts
36 Condotta Pikemen (Estalian Mercenaries) @ 399 pts
8 Dwarf Sea Ranger Skirmishers @ 112
30 Flagellants with leader @ 370 pts (this group possibly having swollen to a greater size)
Carroccio @ 265 (counts as Army Standard @ 18” effect) + 3D6 Flagellants
Magic standard (Home-rules): Standard of Morr: All Tilean/Estalian troops within range of its battle Standard effect are immune to Fear (+85)
Maestro Angelo da Leoni’s Steam-Tank @ 250 (From which 3 swivel guns and a helblaster volley gun have been removed and placed elsewhere.)
2 Baggage wagons

The young Pavonan lord and his guard @ 328 pts
Lord Silvano
8 Mercenary Elven Knights

Arabyans gifted by Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore @ 2331 pts
General ‘Caliph’ Gedik Mamidous
Two ‘Emirs’, Sakhrrif and Immeed (one with Battle Standard)
Vizier (wizard) Jafhashua al Hadi
9 Arabyan Camel Riders
30 Arabyan Spearmen
25 Arabyan Elite Spearmen (Heavy armour, corroding standard)
24 Crossbowmen (two companies of 12)
12 Border Horsemen
10 Arquebusiers (30", S5, armour pierce, move or fire, prepared shot - after firing, spend next shooting phase reloading before fire again, may move while doing)
25 Black Guard Swordsmen (Stubborn, WS4)
2 baggage wagons
2 Galloper Guns commanded by mercenary artillery captain Pandolfo da Barbiano

Here’s a pic of some of the above army set up in readiness for transferral to the table. Several things were already placed, as per the scenario. The 6D6 flagellants with the carroccio would be determined at the start of the game. I had the 36 figures ready, but should have known I wouldn't need anything like that many!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeathWindowsill_zpsoue6uak1.jpg)
The arabyan horse in the middle of this lot were destroyed before the battle! (If a GM allows one PC to order ritual prayers to affect necromantic magic and the turning of a steam tank into a (Hobart’s) ‘funny’, then he must allow the other to try a dastardly surprise attack versus a random scouting unit by flying vampire-monsters. The randomness came from the fact that Vargheists are frenzied, and I reckoned that meant it was pretty random which one they attacked – whoever they happened to see first!)

The Undead Army @ 4320 pts total (Edit: Plus the value of the 'free' lord level character, the duchess @ ? points)
Vampire Lord (Maria)
Strigoi Ghoul King
Vampire Hero
Tomb Banshee
Necromancer
60 Zombies
10 Dire Wolves
43 Crypt Ghouls
30 Skeletons
30 Skeletons
Corpse Cart
29 Grave Guard
20 Grave Guard
6 Crypt Horrors
6 Vargheists
6 Hexwraiths
8 Black Knights
3 Spirit Hosts
Terrorgheist

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tabletop
(Effectively a simplified version of the camp for game-play purposes.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeathDeployment_zps9wv7ww8g.jpg)

Actual battle report to follow asap.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on August 26, 2016, 06:16:16 AM
Again so many good things brewing up here.  :-)

Thanks for the stories!  :::cheers:::

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 30, 2016, 03:15:08 PM
And thanks for your thanks, Herr Zygmund. The next part is here ...
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Battle for Ebino, Part Two

The Holy Army of Morr rushed to deploy its entire strength along the partially completed defences. All three heavy mounted regiments took a place on the far left of the line, with the mercenary elven riders on their bright, white horses acting as Lord Silvano's bodyguard on the extreme end of the line. The Caliph Gedik Mamidous' camelry rode behind them and the Reman knights, led by the hero of Pontremola and commander of the army in the field, General d'Alessio, to their right. Captain Pandolfo di Barbiano's brace of galloper guns trundled up behind the knights, hoping to find a spot from which to fire after the knights advanced.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath1_zpsex6lpshv.jpg)

The Arabyan Black Guard swordsmen massed in the rear of the cavalry, upon a little hill from which they could look down at Carroccio and its little guard company of flagellants (Note: The 6D6 roll for to ascertain the flagellants’ actual number came up a measly 12!) The large regiment of Estalian pikemen took up position near the centre of the line, with the arch lector Calictus II himself by their side. Several swivel guns and the volley gun were placed at the very centre of the line, and stretching out to the right of them stood first the Arabyan musketeers with their impressively long barrelled pieces, and then in succession the Arabyan light spearmen, the main body of Morrite flagellants and the Arabyan heavy spearmen.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath2_zpsljgy22v0.jpg)

Behind these foot regiments, two companies of crossbowmen occupied each of a pair of hills, while in the little dip between stood maestro Angelo da Leoni's wooden-armoured steam engine surrounded by scaffolding and topped by the uncompleted ramp intended to overcome the moated walls of Ebino. The maestro himself stood upon the scaffolding, shouting down to the already sweating crewmen within the workings, issuing a complicated combination of instructions concerning how to build up steam, which parts of both the scaffolding and the supports for the ramp needed removing, and what alterations in driving and steering procedures would be necessary now that the gun platform was missing. Glancing again and again towards the front of the battle-line, he interspersed his orders with "Hurry now!", "Make haste" and “No time for that”.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath5_zpsyng6igkd.jpg)

A wheeled contraption of rather a less elaborate and ingenious design trundled up at the flagellants' fore, its cacophonous bronze bell swinging erratically. 'Fighting' Father Antonello, who nearly died leading the poorest of the Viadazan militia at Pontremola, and who had spent his time in Remas forging the very band of fanatics he now led, walked barefoot next to the bell, his sword held aloft as he sang of the painful, purging ecstasy of serving Morr's will to the death. At Pontremola his voice had been clear and strong, but here it had become the pained and wheezing cry of a man who had bloodily scourged himself of every thought but battle.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath3_zpsv6fsxuzo.jpg)

Once the army was arrayed as best it could manage, for a moment there was almost complete quiet. The peeling drums ceased their instructions, the sergeants and captains gave rest to their voices, and every mercenary soldier upon the field, Tilean or Arabyan, fell silent. Even the flagellants ceased their loud chants, and instead spoke their prayers in growled whispers through clenched teeth. The only other sounds were the jangling of the mounts' harnesses and the snapped flutters of silken flags.

Not one living soul present could help but fall quiet, for it was in that moment the enemy hoved into view, surmounting the ridge between the camp and Ebino.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath8_zpsurdwditz.jpg)

Every single thing that moved among their ranks was foul. Many were truly terrible to behold. Several large companies of skeletal warriors, wearing only the remnants of ancient armour and rags, with not a scrap of flesh to clothe their bones, made up their right, including an ancient head-hunter's chariot piled high with the skulls of those he had taken in life and (presumably) in death also. Closer to the centre of their line, being the first thing all living eyes were drawn to, was the un-living corpse of a huge dragon-beast. Its motion seemed impossibly easy, considering it was nothing more than bleached bones and the flimsiest, stretched tatters of leathery flesh. When its long neck came curling down to thrust its monstrous head forwards, a sound issued from its gaping maw - the echo of a cry from some hellish realm beyond the seam, twisted then amplified as it found its way into the mortal world.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath9_zpsqsrkw4bb.jpg)

Behind this flew some smaller, demonic creatures, although as they would tower over any mortal man their smallness was only in comparison to the dragongheist.

In the very heart of the line came a monstrously large amalgamation of unliving parts, held as one by a blue-hued miasma, the whole like something plucked from a nightmare, or several nightmares. It appeared to be hauled by skeletal riders, although the mounts' hooves struck nothing but air as the ground was several yards beneath them. Limbless corpses with chattering teeth were impaled upon a shrine-like balcony, upon which stood a crooked figure robed in a cloth woven from shadows.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath11_zpswzxy39ai.jpg)

This horror alone proved the vampire duchess's corrupting power had grown greater than that which Duke Alessandro ever wielded, and in the passage of time since she left Viadaza to return northwards, she had been diligent in her work to make a very hell of the north. The like of such an 'apparatus ad mortem', such an 'ammasso dei cadaveri', had not been witnessed in Tilea for many a century. But nor had an undead army the size of which surrounded it. Ahead of the horror loped a band of undead brutes, and beside them a regiment of ancient palace guards led by the vampire Lord Adolfo (the tales of his death at the hands of the duchess, punishment for the loss of Viadaza, were thus proved false). Next in line were two huge bands of ghouls and zombies, with a barely visible ghostly host of troubled spirits lurching ahead of them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath6_zpslvnws55y.jpg)

Upon the very far left of Duchess Maria's army there rode a deathly hunt, with flail-armed riders galloping in eerie, ethereal silence behind a pack of slavering hounds.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath7_zpsxwdwcn9x.jpg)

They were not the only riders upon the field, for at the very centre of the line, beside the monstrous dragongheist, was a company of skeletal men at arms, their mounts' caparisoned carcasses enclosed in carapaces of iron. In their midst rode the vampire Duchess Maria, with a gaze every bit as piercing as her bared fangs could be.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath12_zpssyshff76.jpg)

As the Holy Army of Morr took in the full horror of what faced them, the arch-lector's long serving company of mercenary dwarfs jogged up towards the side of the steam engine, having been ordered to move whither it went.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath13_zpsdrpu6bj4.jpg)

Most of the vampire duchess's horde momentarily slowed as she surveyed the foe arrayed before her, but out on the left the ghastly hunt did not break its stride, outstripping all the rest and closing upon the enemy with palpably cruel intent.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath14_zps4yy8ulvq.jpg)

Note: Deployment and Scouting Moves completed. Battle proper to follow asap. To those who weren't there, does anyone care to hazard a guess as to which side will be victorious, if indeed either?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 02, 2016, 03:35:37 PM
The Battle for Ebino, Part Three

The near-silence was broken by the sudden blaring of horns ordering the riders to advance. The young Lord Silvano, the only soldier upon the field to sport the blue and white of Pavona, was the first off the mark, accompanied by his Sharlian Riders. The irony that they had been bribed generously to leave Reman service to serve the Pavonan duke, yet now they had been sent by that same duke to serve his son in Reman service, was not lost upon them as it was on Lord Silvano. He simply wanted to fight and get this war over and done with.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath15_zpsgr8yfnrp.jpg)

To the young lord's immediate right the mounted nobility of Remas - a visconte, a barone, and several-many Cavalieri, led by General d'Alessio, his shield bearing the hourglasses of Morr - spurred their own mounts to keep up as close they could to the young lord's flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath16_zpsjaf9flbq.jpg)

The veteran general forgave young Silvano his impetuousness in being the first to advance, though by right that honour should not have fallen to him. Silvano was burdened with an irrepressible need to prove himself, born of all that had happened in his young life: the death of his brother in single combat, the mutinous conduct of his own soldiers at Viadaza and the recent fall of the city he had been granted governorship of by his father. He also yearned to placate his father for his perceived failings by proving himself in battle. Where and when better to do so than here and now, against the greatest and most wicked threat facing Tilea? Most of all, he wanted to beat the vampire duchess and her foul horde as soon as possible, thus releasing himself from his vow and allowing his return to Pavona to aid his father in the war against the Ogres threatening to destroy his own homeland.
 
Behind the Sharlian riders came the Sons of the Desert’s camelry, carrying lances almost the length of pikes. It had been noted how the desert mounts scared the horses and so their position in the rear was no accident. Thus it was that the entire left wing of the Holy Army of Morr's vanguard, wholly consisting of riders, crossed the nascent defences to move directly towards the massed ranks of the walking dead.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath18_zpsmdru9lsa.jpg)

On the far right of the army the steam engine's workings juddered into life, emitting several bouts of sooty steam, then after the squeal of grinding gears and the strained creak of stressed timbers, it broke free of the scaffolding enclosing it and jolted forwards leaving a trail of broken planks behind. The maestro Angelo watched it trundle away, cursing at its lack of armament. At Viadaza it had thundered aimlessly about unable to effect any real damage upon the walls or the foe shielded behind them, whereas now, part-way through the transformation intended to put right this specific deficiency, it was going into open battle without the guns that could make it truly effective. He was more than a little vexed at the constantly changing circumstances that prevented him from proving himself as a military engineer of genius. Had he just sent his greatest creation to its doom?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath17_zpszlgxamab.jpg)

The dwarfen rangers watched the engine go by, waiting for their chance to move up in its wake, all the better to provide some support for it during the battle.

While the famous Captain da Barbiano's galloper guns positioned themselves behind the beginnings of the earthwork vallation ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath20_zpspsqcf4if.jpg)

... the regiments of foot soldiers stood their ground. The Arabyan light spear regiment looked on nervously over the piled timbers gathered for the parapet, while the black robed vizier in their front rank dramatically began his conjurations.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath19_zpsyxcvhjy2.jpg)

But his efforts evidently came to nought, for when his hands came together in a conclusive clap and nothing at all happened, he cursed in some archaic tongue only half understood by the men around him. No other magical manipulation of the etheric winds had any obvious effect, but several of the slavering death-hounds did fall to crossbow quarrels and the shambling blue-skinned horrors in the centre of the duchess's line were bloodied by musket shots. At the carroccio, however, the fanatical clergy and dedicants were singing potent prayers with gusto, and as every Estalian and Tilean who could hear them took heart from the parts they recognised, their fear of the foe began to fade away. Game note: As per the house rule, they now had +4" range to the carroccio's 'Hold your Ground' & Immune to Fear effect, making it 22" in range.) The black robed spearmen above the carroccio, who knew little of the foreigner’s gods and had certainly never prayed to them, simply looked down in confusion at the fuss, and wondered why such supposedly fearless warriors would give themselves over to song when there was a battle to fight.

The Duchess's unholy army came on slowly but surely , and apart from the ghostly-hunt out upon the far left flank, only the dragongheist seemed to be in any hurry to reach the foe. Its huge wings flapped but three times, and with little swiftness, yet lifted it sufficiently far to land before the Reman nobility. Upon its arrival, however, it did nothing more than hiss with mean intent. (Game Note: Its 'Death Shriek' had no effect.)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath21_zpsyw8ivs7e.jpg)

Still, although its threatening display caused no physical harm, the beast's mere proximity was no easy thing to endure. Only the tiniest scraps of glistening muscle still connected its bones (what remained being as tough as buff-leather armour) and its grey, leathery flesh was also very much an incomplete covering, nevertheless a long, sharp tongue, the colour of dried blood and as whole as that a master butcher might display with pride upon his stall, thrust stiffly between the massive teeth of its gaping maw. The fleshless talons upon the joints of its wings flexed and curled with intent, and every motion it made produced a clackety eruption of sound as bone struck bone along its entire length.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath22_zpsrek4wy2y.jpg)

Much louder was the hate-filled howl delivered by the vampire Adolfo, as if he could barely contain the lust for battle broiling within him. His elite guard made no sound, perhaps heard no sounds either, as they halted a moment, several of their blades glittering with an unworldy green glow. Their master raised his hand to shield the sun from his eyes and so better descry the enemy who had driven him from the city he ruled in both life and undeath, and so shamed him before his beloved mistress the duchess Maria. He believed his devotion to her knew no bounds, and he intended that the enemy would learn this the hard way. And yet, deep down, buried beneath the fury, pride, lust and brutal cunning, there was some part of him that wanted his own unlife never to end, whatever became of the duchess. This was what had allowed him to flee Viadaza as it fell, and was why he could halt here to scrutinize the foe even though he could see several of the duchess' other servants had already advanced much further.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath10_zpso1lmkeki.jpg)

The hunters and their hounds were the keenest of the undead forces, heading straight towards the Arabyan heavy spearmen, entirely unconcerned by the fall of several of their number.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath23_zpsm8gvobbw.jpg)

Watching their approach, the spearmen's amir simply kept repeating, "Steady ... steady ...!"

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath4_zpsqxqujl2q.jpg)

The situation was both reversed and magnified upon the far side of the field, for there it was the living riders, much greater in number, who were rapidly closing the gap between themselves and the foe. Their blaring horns suddenly gave vent to a new, more urgent flurry of notes - the charge - and all three bodies of riders crashed headlong into their skeletal opponents. So many were they, and arrayed so widely, that the arabyans and elves found themselves taking on not two but three regiments of foot soldiers, while the Reman nobility levelled their lances to attack the great and monstrous dragongheist itself!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath24_zpsmlkkvguj.jpg)

Lord Silvano held his own in the subsequent fight, which the elves around him thought was as much as could be expected from such an unblooded youth, and several skeletons were felled by the riders' lances.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath25_zpsrmbcrjsm.jpg)

The mercenary Caliph Gedik Mamidous found himself locked in combat against a vampire, and the two of them drew blood (much to the vampire's distraction) but neither could fell the other. His emir and camel riders brought down many skeletons in both the regiments they faced, even the camels breaking several of the enemy into pieces under their heavy, splayed feet. The conjoined impact and heavy casualties so fractured the magical forces animating the undead warriors that thirty more crumbled in the rear ranks! (Game Note: Joint combat of 2 units vs. 3 units won by 10 points, thus 10 extra casualties in each of the skeleton and grave guard regiments!) The Holy Army of Morr had struck what seemed to be a severe blow here on the flank, and the enemy had been significantly sapped of strength. But their charge had been halted, their impetus spent, and now it came to sword blade and lance-butt there was still more work to be done.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath29_zps3sxluwkd.jpg)

Although General d'Alessio had faced such a beast as the dragon before, at Pontremola, he had to steel himself as he drew close. Perhaps it was a blessing that neither he nor his companions could see the full monstrosity of that which faced them through the slits in their steel vizors? Several lance-points found their marks, and the beast was visibly injured by the attack, even stumbling as if it had momentarily lost its balance.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath27_zpsoxzlc6xj.jpg)

Yet, like the camels and elves to their left, their charge alone could not finish off the monster, and now they would have to fight without the driving force gifted by their initial charge, their lance attacks becoming more like prods than piercing thrusts. (Game note: They caused one wound, and 3 more due to combat resolution. So close!)

Crossbows, swivel guns and volley gun all did what they could to harm the approaching blue-skinned brutes, but with little apparent effect. The musketeers were too busy re-loading their extra-ordinarily long-barrelled pieces to contribute their own leaden shot. Captain di Barbiano decided to join the effort and targeted the same body of monstrous zombies, and was left dumbfounded when one of his piece's barrels blew apart and the other sent a round shot into the dirt rather than the foe. His first contribution to battle after all those weeks and weeks of marching, only to find his firepower (and the value of his investments) reduced by half!

On the far right of the Holy Army's line, the maestro's engine continued its trundling movement through the gap in the lines before it.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath28_zpspelfsvi5.jpg)

In an effort to ensure its path towards the main enemy regiments remained clear, the crossbows atop the hill behind and the pistol-armed dwarf rangers accompanying it, managed to reduce the hunt's hounds down to only two, while the vizier's second attempt to rain magical lightening upon the hunt's riders halved their number in a dramatic explosion of flashes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath31_zpsmcv9xunf.jpg)

As the spears of blue light manifested in the air around the ghostly riders, the vizier began cackling, but this quickly turned into a more pained sound as he clutched his head and had to be caught by the men at his side before tumbled over. When his hands came away he seemed dazed, yet took his place in the front rank once more. None of his companions thought to question him concerning what had happened - his trembling was proof enough that something had gone awry in his conjurations.

The duchess's army had been visibly harmed, and those who could see it was now allowed themselves to  believe  that the day really would be theirs - even as the duchess herself led her mounted guard in a charge against the Reman nobility struggling against the dragongheist.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath30_zpscxuvl4pv.jpg)

But then the vampires summoned every scrap of etheric wind they could find to began the work of repairing and strengthening their warriors. Beside the head-hunter's chariot of skulls, fallen skeletons by the dozen began to get back up to their feet ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath26_zpsgreij5go.jpg)

... and so it went on until nearly every undead regiment in the field was almost entirely whole again. The riders, every one of whom had dared to hope that they were only moments away from bursting right through the few soldiers remaining in their way, allowing them to turn upon the vampire duchess's flank and rear to begin the real work of dispatching her army, suddenly found themselves facing regiments almost as strong as they had been when they first entered the field!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath32_zpsejl75if8.jpg)

A sickening sense of doubt began to spread through the men, elves and dwarfs of the arch-lector's army. It was not merely fear at the face of the foe, but the soldierly knowledge that if that foe will not even stay dead, then the fight could really only go one way.

Was this the beginning of the end of the arch-lector's holy war?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on September 02, 2016, 10:15:42 PM
Oh dear...
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on September 05, 2016, 09:37:10 AM
You can feel the despair and determination in this battle. Splendid stuff Padre! :-P
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 13, 2016, 06:33:52 PM
I'm afraid there's more despair coming, Xathrodox!
...............................................................
The Battle for Ebino, Part Four

As the winged horrors behind the regimented skeletons on the undead right did little more than hop and flap, merely edging toward the middle of the field as if they could not agree between themselves where first to strike, the vampire duchess herself showed no such tardiness and led her undead horsemen in a charge against the Reman nobility. She had sensed her old master's killer, General d'Alessio, among them, and sought to wreak vengeance for what he had done. Her mount's blood-hued barding marked her out, although she radiated such an aura of evil that she would have drawn the attention of every living thing in her proximity whatever she wore.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath34_zpsz6huuh5v.jpg)

At the very moment she and her riders clashed with the Remans, the fight upon the slopes to her right was going badly for the living. Fallen elves, Arabyans and skeletons tumbled together down the hill. Such a hard fight, combined with the recent resurrection of nearly every skeleton they had fought so hard to kill, sapped the resolve of the living warriors and they turned to flee. Both camel and horse-riders outpaced their pedestrian pursuers, with the Caliph Gedik Mamidous leading his own men pell-mell through the Black Guard swordsmen and much further than the elves.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath33_zpss1ta8awi.jpg)

The Holy Army of Morr's left flank, which only a little while before had seemed all but victorious, was now in disarray. There was a chance the riders might rally, and the swordsmen might find the courage to stand their ground. If also the Reman nobility could maintain their fight against the monstrous dragongheist and if the winged horrors continued their dithering, then perhaps the tables could yet turn again? But this faint hope receded when the Vampire Duchess' blade cut General d'Alessio in two, before he could even lift his own sword to parry. As his horribly mutilated corpse tumbled to the ground in two places, his plate-armoured companions somehow found the courage to maintain their ground in the centre of the field (1), which allowed the Estalian pikemen behind them to advance 'at the charge', the serried ranks of their pike-tips aimed squarely at the osseous riders. In the process, they carried the somewhat flustered Father Biagino along with them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath36_zpswdckr0na.jpg)

So it was that Biagino found himself caught in the midst of massive melee. He flailed his sword almost without thought, his mind wholly intent upon the prayers necessary to summon Morr's blessings. The words came easy, the gestures less so (for obvious reasons), but to no avail. He was lost from Morr's sight. A chill ran through him as he understood that in this moment of dire need, he had been abandoned by the god to whom he had given so much. (2)

As the Elven riders and young Lord Silvano turned to face the enemy once again, the Arabyan swordsmen found the courage to charge the small company of skeletons to their front ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath35_zpsmhqzxutj.jpg)

... while behind Gedik Mamidous halted his camel riders ordered them to reform as a body.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath37_zpsxlybbw6q.jpg) (3)

Captain di Barbiano's last surviving gun sent a ball ploughing harmlessly into the ground before the blue-skinned horrors in the midst of the enemy's line ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath41_zpsdf73uj0s.jpg)

... then enough crossbow bolts and musket bullets found better marks, felling three of them. All this was watched by the arch-lector Calictus, standing alone beside the swivel guns that had been removed from the steam tank, obscured from the enemy's eyes by a wagon of stones sitting beside the incomplete defence-works. He had barely moved since the battle began, and indeed it seemed to those nearby that he was lost in prayerful reverie. In truth, it was fear and doubt that had held him so from the first moment he saw the frightful nature of the foe. There were many among the Holy Army of Morr who still believed the battle could be won, especially as the entire right wing of the army had yet to engage the enemy, including the large mob of indomitable, frenzied fanatics and the pistol-toting veteran dwarfs next to them, while the riders who had fled upon the left had already rallied rather than leaving the field. But his holiness was not reassured by these facts, instead his mind was filled with turmoil. How could such terrors possibly be defeated? Had he tarried too long at Viadaza allowing them to grow too strong? Would the Arabyans, being mercenaries and not servants of Morr, prove willing to fight? Did he send too large a force to assist in the war to the south, thus critically weakening this army? Was he unworthy of holy Morr's blessings? Were his dreams of the last few nights coming true?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath38_zps4nssexaz.jpg)

As the priests and dedicates attending the carroccio abandoned their hymns and instead set about mortifying their flesh with flails and cords, conjuring a religious ecstasy of pain to channel the spiritual power of Morr (4), the rather more physical presence of the steam-tank seemed unstoppable as it coursed its way towards the heart of the enemy's line.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath39_zpslnxxoqzm.jpg)

The Arabyan swordsmen, on the other hand, seemed only to contact the enemy for the briefest of moments, before they turned and ran, heading straight towards their commander Gedik, with the skeletons in pursuit.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/padrissimus010/CalictusDeath42_zpsbyhcg2r5.jpg)

Their flight thus hindered, the skeletons soon caught them, bloodily tearing through them and on into the camel riders. Gedik Mamidous thus found himself once again in combat against the aureate-armoured vampire ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath50_zpsfsbsc9it.jpg)

... but this time he had lost the will to fight, and as two of his riders perished upon ancient blades, he ordered the remainder to flee as they had so often practised. Once more they successfully escaped their pursuers. Gedik had decided enough was enough - he was not going to allow the destruction of his entire company in an unwinnable battle - so he commanded his horn-player to sound the general retreat, then hurtled with his riders through the camp and away from the battle for good.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath51_zpsyqz31m2d.jpg)

Although the arch-lector did not know the meaning of the horn's signal, he could guess. Besides, even if it were not an order to retreat, the caliph's flight could not bode when almost half the army’s strength consisted of Arabyans. Within moments he could see that several companies of desert-men had indeed begun to fall back.

The duchess's foul servants were launching their attacks across their entire front. The winged horrors finally chose their target, beginning an arcing flight towards the Sharlian Riders. Lord Silvano steeled himself, lowering his visor and starting to speak his command to stand their ground, but Captain Presrae suddenly clutched his arm. The elf gestured towards the fleeing Arabyans, saying, "It's over, my lord. Best we go now. Your father would not want to lose another son." Lord Silvano exhaled, his frustration evident, then turned his horse away. Accompanied by the elves, he too left the field, galloping harder and faster than he had ever done so before to keep up with the Sharlian Riders' white steeds. He did not look back.

The elves and Arabyans were not alone, for the dwarfs, facing a charge by the remaining riders of the ghostly hunt, chose that very same moment to leave. They had been ordered to accompany the steam tank, but they could not keep up with in, and now felt that they had been foolishly misemployed, which in turn wounded their pride. Nor could their continued efforts possibly help the steam engine, for it had now stalled as a cloud of viridescent spirits swarmed over and under, through and into it, plunging the crew into a waking nightmare. The crew's screams and the enemy's eerie wailing mingled together just like the engine's vented steam swirled and mixed with the spirits' ethereal vapours. The maestro saw it all from his place on the scaffolding (he had not moved from that vantage point since the engine left), and as the dwarfs fled by he shouted but one word, "Wait!" before leaping down to join them.(5)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath45_zpstrjscs6l.jpg)

Suddenly it seemed as though a dark cloud had moved over the field of battle, spreading its shadow upon the ground. This was no natural phenomenon, rather it was an emanation from the huge, hellish conglomeration of grisly parts moving at the heart of the duchess's army, and in its absence of light it bore a magical mortification.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath47_zps0sgzmevh.jpg)

His Holiness the arch-lector himself felt its cold touch deep inside his mortal frame, and was left gasping for air while nearby umpteen musketeers, swivel gunners, pikemen and artillerymen fell lifeless to the ground (to the fearful confusion of their fellows). This curse seemed to fan the winds of dark magic for it was then that every soldier of the pike regiment reeled under the duchess's enchanted gaze, fumbling for their footing as if they were suddenly made drunk. Lord Adolfo felt the surge too, and in his boiling rage, which had grown only greater as the battle grew longer, he garnered more necromantic magic that he could possibly control, so that even as undead riders and horrors were reanimated, the five guards closest to him burst into pieces as the uncontrollable energies spilling from the sides of his spell ripped through them.

Having been distracted, as well as lulled into foolish and false sense of security by the heavy wagon of stones before him, Calictus at last realised the abominable, charnel agglomeration was coming directly at him. Its ever-shifting tangle of parts held a sick fascination, and he could not take his eyes off it. The noise of it, a convoluted choir of grinding shrieks and howls, seemed to be directed at him in particular.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath46_zpspdhnedz7.jpg)

He could also hear a voice , pathetically faint but alive, and nothing like the pure hatred-made-sound emanating from the mortified monstrosity. It was calling him. "Your Holiness!" And there was snarling too, and more shouting from further away: "Run! Run!"

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath48_zpsmecdnil0.jpg)

The Estalians' pikes had become unnaturally heavy in their hands due to the cruel chill of the lingering shadow-curse, but the foe before them was newly invigorated. All this would combine to bring about their ruin.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath49_zpsqhfpsqd9.jpg)

Duchess Maria, despite sitting side saddle and deceptively delicate, slew half a dozen pikemen with her own blade, while her riders hewed down another five and the dragongheist's fangs tore through a knight's neck, removing head, helm and plume with one snap! Held fast by the scrum of armoured men and mounts surrounding him, Biagino could do little more than attempt to stay upon his feet. His sword was lost, though he did not know it, and through gritted teeth he spoke a fragment of prayer over and over: “In Your hands … In Your hands …”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath43_zpsudf3x53h.jpg)

Unsurprisingly, the pikemen became overwhelmed by panic-fear. They stumbled backwards, slipping and tripping over the dead and dying. One or two yielded to the madness and launched themselves suicidally at the foe, but most dropped their pikes as they attempted to escape. Nearly all were torn to pieces by the duchess and her savage servants. In the midst of the mayhem was Father Biagino, his last worldly moment being the sight and sound of an iron lance punching through the helmeted head of a transfixed soldier, and his final thought so dreadful that there are no words to express it.

More and more of the undead army came on now, including a vast throng of vile, rotten, walking corpses on the left.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath44_zpsjual8umo.jpg)

Captain di Barbiano ordered his surviving crewmen to limber his one remaining piece and flee, while both large regiments of Arabyan spearmen, now that word had reached them of General Gedik’s departure, began a surprisingly orderly withdrawal. One of the companies of crossbowmen at least lingered long enough to loose a few shots before their own departure ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath52_zpsrityr5yl.jpg)

... while nearly all those with the baggage wagons began hauling their burdens away, given some confidence by the sight of the Arabyan force's disciplined departure. Yet there were some still among the living who had not yet even considered retreat, for they were so filled with an holy lust for battle that they had utterly failed to notice the collapse of the army around them. With Father Antonio and their bell-cart at the fore, the flagellating dedicates' chains clattered and flames sputtered as they at last decided the enemy was close enough to attack.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath40_zpsbjsvbuct.jpg)

Screaming battle cries in the form adulatory prayers to holy Morr, they charged headlong into the last few riders of the ghostly hunt.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath53_zpsd5bhivcf.jpg)

Nought but wisps of etheric essence remained as Morr's holy warriors burst straight through the ghostly riders, then plunged deep and messily into the crowd of un-corpses beyond. The mass of rotting flesh swallowed them up entirely, and even as the flagellants tore foe after foe after foe apart, the vampiric conjurers summoned more and more to forge a huge, hellish heap of tangled, mangled corpses -  dying, dead and undead. It was the last anyone ever saw of Father Antonio and his band of scarred brothers.

Almost without thinking, the arch-lector had staggered away from the wagon of stones, but kept turning back to look at the approaching horrors behind. He began prayer after prayer, each time uttering only a few words before sensing its failure and starting a different one. Then came the voice again, "Your Holiness, please! Make haste."

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/padrissimus010/CalictusDeath54_zpsskw8c3gd.jpg)

"What?" said Calictus as the riders at the front of the impossible, floating abomination levelled their spears and the dragongheist's head thrust towards him to release its hideous screech.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CalictusDeath55_zpskbjb32kd.jpg)

The appalling sound assaulted him body and soul (6), then congealed sufficiently to knock him from his feet.

"Oh dear ..." he began, but then spoke no more, nor ever again.


Game Notes:
(1) Uryens makes a snake eyes break test. This was to be the ‘exception that proved the rule’ regarding his otherwise atrocious dice rolling!
(2) Snake eyes winds of magic roll. There was a certain sort of consistency in Uryens rolling! I've never been a superstitious man, but Uryens was making me so.
(3) This was one of the hardest pictures I have ever had to 'clean up'. My careless players had strewn the tabletop with dice, magic cards, drinks, snacks, and even a hand. Ooooh, if they only knew. (That would require the pair of them to read these notes.) Mind you, I shouldn't complain - in the later picture where the Caliph Gedik Mamidous flees past the tent I had forgotten to put the Reman Morrite emblems on the tent and so it was still showing the Compagnia del Sole's device. That took some work with Microsoft Paint to put right too!
(4)-D3 power dice for the undead player next turn as per the scenario rules.
(5) From what we could make of the steam tank rules, it seemed it was well and truly stuck - unable to move, whilst also unable to harm the spirit hosts. Daz, the undead player, was cackling. I think this is what he had intended from the start!
(6) The Mortice Engine's Ghostly Howl failed to harm the arch-lector, but the Terrorgheist's Death Shriek caused 7 wounds! His holiness managed to ward save 2, but the 5 that got through killed him very dead.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on September 15, 2016, 11:13:41 AM
Oh Shit!

:)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on September 15, 2016, 11:14:44 AM
Poor, poor Calictus. :icon_cry:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 15, 2016, 05:46:16 PM
Poor Biagino!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Trinkenessen on September 17, 2016, 08:33:16 PM
Reminds me of a 'Pre Hammer' campaign we had in the early '80s when the horde of Felius Troot and Lord Drape demolished all armies before them over a period of several months finally to be held by Conan and the grand army of Aquillonia.

Great stuff Padre I felt their fear, how is this monstrous army going to be stopped????????

Keep the faith.
Guy T
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 17, 2016, 08:41:11 PM
I do feel for the living of Tilea. And you are right about the monstrous nature of the undead army - I am painting figures to supplement the player's forces further! Mind you, I am painting loads of other figures too for NPC forces.

Glad to hear that you are enjoying this. I can assume you are a tad older than me 'cos in the very early 80s, before 1st ed WFB came out and changed our world, we were still playing very primitive wargames using 54mm airfix figures (WW2 or Napoleonic or Middle Ages) and rules somehow built from the Traveller roleplaying game rules!!!! I remember at the time joining a wargaming club, in my own village, and realising there were other ways to go about playing with toy soldiers.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 02, 2016, 05:38:20 PM
Nobili Immortale
Sequel to the Battle for Ebino

Biagino could remember almost nothing but dreams, spilling one after the other for what seemed like years on end. Somehow his life had flipped over, turning the waking world into a distant, half-memory, while his sleeping sojourns were experienced and recalled in every detail.

Nearly all the dreams consisted of two particular kinds. The first, the painful ones, were claustrophobic affairs, in which he could barely move, if indeed at all. In these his body ached to every extremity, his skin itched and prickled all over, and he felt hunger that went beyond mere want of food to want of everything, from air to drink, from movement to company. He could sense the fat falling from his bones as his body seemed to consume itself from within. His every muscle was perpetually tensed, while his mouth stayed clenched shut in a grimace. The second kind of dreams were the old, familiar ones, unfolding as they always had done, to reveal or foretell the horrors of the world.

And so Biagino knew he was dreaming now. Indeed, he recognised the dream - it was one of his old recurring nightmares, in which he was surrounded by the living dead, trapped deep within their realm. There was no escape, nor could he hide, and so no relief.

This time, however, it was not a nightmare, and not because he was aware he was dreaming, but simply because it simply it was no longer terrifying. In every other sense the dream was the same: foul hands upon him, their rotten, worm-ridden flesh touching his own; dead-eyes somehow peering at him from dark orbits; the screams of a dying man mingled with the gurgled groans of the undead; his mouth filling with hot blood. All this still happened, but now the hands touching him were doing as he himself had instructed, while the pus filled eyes were those of attentive, obedient servants awaiting his further command. The dying man perished at his own doing, and rather than gagging on the blood he gulped it down hungrily, like a starving man given warm broth.

It was the same dream in every particular, except he was not the same man.

Then something new happened, which had never before been a part of the dream. Someone spoke to him, and it was the voice of a goddess.

“Ah, sweet priest,” she said. “You have awoken from your slumber. I see you have already breakfasted. You must have been so very hungry.”

Biagino forgot his musings concerning the dream, even that it was a dream, and so failed to notice that it was now continuing longer than it had ever done before. He gently pushed the cold hand away that had been placing a stole around his neck …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/BiaginoAfter5_zpsmkgai4nh.jpg)

 … then turned away from his meal, letting him fall to the ground, to look at the speaker. It was the Duchess Maria, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, her flesh as pale as it was flawless, her eyes alight with delightfully playful malice. He smiled, for it filled him with pleasure to look upon her. He remembered the other times he had been in her presence. The memories came flooding back, each one parting to reveal another: as a novice attending the Lector of Miragliano during Lady Anabella’s wedding, when the Duchess was a maid of honour; during his first and second visits to the Ebinan court upon the lector’s business; and in Viadaza when he and Father Gonzalvo had obtained an audience to petition her support for the crusade.

The duchess strode directly over to him, reaching out as she did so, revealing a serpent entwined about her arm. 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/BiaginoAfter1_zpswtsvov7m.jpg)

When she reached him, she stroked his cheek, and he could feel the flickering, licking tongue of the coiled serpent. Rather than the surprise he should have felt at such strange familiarity from a noblewoman towards a lowly priest, instead he suddenly remembered what was happening.

“I forgot this was a dream,” he said with a smile.

“This is no dream, sweet priest," explained the duchess. "You are awake, and close to being more so now than you have ever been.”

As she spoke, one of the shambling servants handed Biagino a crozier, headed with a crook of solid gold, then staggered back with a groan.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/BiaginoAfter4_zpsgaml0mhd.jpg)

Upon clutching it he was surprised at how light it was, until realisation dawned and he instead became surprised at his own strength. Lastly, he wondered why it had been given him.

The duchess now laid her hand upon his chest and he could feel the tips of her exquisitely sharp nails. She held his eye, as if to read his thoughts.

“The stick is yours,” she said. “For you are made high-priest today, to rule over the true church.”

Biagino grinned. “Usually my dreams are true, even the strange ones.”

The duchess’s hand slid up fast to grab him by the chin, her nails piercing his flesh as she clutched tightly, while the serpent slithered around his neck to his lick at his other cheek. Barely feeling any pain, Biagino was duly reassured that this must be a dream.

“You are not listening, dear priest,” whispered the duchess, her mouth close to his ear, her breath cold. “This is no dream. It is Morr who sleeps, not us. You need never do so again unless you choose it.”

The first part of what she said made sense to Biagino. Morr was the god of dreams, and so also the god of the dead, who had begun their long and final slumber. But the second part meant little to him.

“The living pray to Morr for help, and he answers them in their dreams,” the duchess continued. "There he can frolic and strut in their make-believe worlds. Yet they foolishly think him powerful in the waking-world too. In this they are wrong. He never wakes. If he could, he would usher all others into his eternal sleep. He is a greedy and jealous god who can never be satisfied.”

Biagino was surprised, for instead of being offended at such blasphemy, it all seemed to make sense. It seemed to be something he had always known. A hat of crimson cloth was now placed upon his head, and the duchess twisted his chin to one side, then the other, as if admiring it. Suddenly she yanked his head to face hers, and kissed him. Her lips were cold, made colder by the fact that his lips were cold too. When she released him she took a step away, her pet snake recoiling itself about her arm.

“We refuse to join such as him in idle slumber,” she said. “We will not allow ourselves to be imprisoned in his oneiric realm, to have him lord it over us. We choose instead not to live yet never to die. We can rest but need never sleep. And we serve a master greater by far, not merely born a god, but who made himself one through power, cunning and the force of his irresistible will.”

“We?” asked Biagino, despite the feeling that the word was indeed somehow right.

“Vampiri,” said the duchess, standing straight. “Nobili immortale, governanti della notte.” Then she smiled and licked some of his blood from her finger tips. “Succhiatori di sangue.”

She gestured to the ground, and Biagino looked down at the dying man lying there. He felt no pity, only satiety. He let his tongue run over his razor sharp fangs. In place of hunger and pain he felt strength and power, and in that moment he seemed, at long last, to awaken.

He knew what he was.

The duchess gestured and one of the servants behind her dragged the dying man away, its hand placed over his face, its fingers curled into his mouth, hauling him like a sack.

Biagino watched without really seeing, for his mind was racing as true understanding suffused into him, gifting a gleefully wicked joy. The urge to laugh was overwhelming, but instead he was surprised to find himself giving vent to a snarling hiss.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/BiaginoAfter2_zpsuqfzwvn4.jpg)
 
The duchess smiled, almost coyly, then curtseyed. “Your holiness, High Priest of the ever-living god Nagash.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/BiaginoAfter3_zpsjacsvmiq.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on October 03, 2016, 08:42:00 AM
Maaan, that was dark. Awesome but dark. :ph34r:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on October 03, 2016, 10:20:32 AM
narrative and visually beautiful. But dark. Very dark.

Indeed I would go so far as to say... "BLASPHEMY!"

THIS IS AN ABOMINATION. NOT JUST CORRUPTING THE PEACE OF DEATH BUT ABUSING MORR'S NAME AND THE HOLY CHURCH OF MORR. THAT A GOOD AND HOLY MAN, FATHER BIAGINO, WHO HAS BEEN WITH US SINCE THE VERY START OF OUR STORY HERE, HAS FALLEN TO THE CORRUPTION OF VAMPIRISM IS A STAIN UPON THE HOLY CHURCH OF REMAS AND A SIGN THAT THE CHURCH HAS BEEN LED ASTRAY BY WEAK AND WORLDLY LEADERS.


they must all be purged....
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 03, 2016, 11:36:59 AM
Great story going here! :icon_biggrin: :eusa_clap:

Not surprising though. :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 21, 2016, 07:03:53 PM
To all of you who read these posts, sorry about the delay. Real life is hectic, and this two parter needed new figures ordering, receiving, painting, then the photos made, plus the reading of a book on the Spanish Inquisition, and all that before I started writing and re-writing! RL should 'lighten' a bit over Christmas, which is good 'cos I have several stories in my head for this end of season, and umpteen painting and modelling projects on the go. Here's the first of this two part piece ...

...

The Day of Mourning
Part One: Outside the Palazzo Montini, Official Residence of the Arch-lector of Morr

The street was quiet, more so than it should have been, for today the city was to mourn the passing of the arch-lector Calictus II, and as was traditional a procession of high clergy and nobility would make its way through the crowds to the Church of San Jacopo at the gate of the Giardino Reale di Morr. There was no corpse to carry, for Calictus had died in distant defeat, with none remaining to retrieve his remains, and this fact made the day’s holy rites even more important. Prodigious and powerful prayers were necessary to ensure that his holiness’ remains (wherever they were) would lie, quiete et pacifice, undisturbed by foul necromancy, despite not being interred within the blessedly protective boundaries of Morr’s garden.

Despite the absence of a body, there should still have been crowds. Lector Luigi of Verezzo, Calictus’ deputy and now the foremost contender for the office of arch-lector, found himself almost alone outside the palace. Two acolytes attended him, one bearing a holy staff containing a potent collection of ancient relic-fragments, the other a golden chalice. Two palace guards stood a little behind, but the street was otherwise almost deserted.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector4_zpszeotqoi5.jpg)

He knew that his little company would begin the journey alone, to be joined at the church of Saint Ettore of the Flayed Arm by a much larger procession of Morrite, Myrmidian and Mercopian clergy, as well as the Reman Overlord Domenico Matuzzi and a large muster of nobility clad in dark-hued mourning clothes of velvet and satin. Thus the procession-proper would begin. It was the absence of almost any observers that struck him as odd, for apart from a few wrinkled faces peering from dark windows, the street was almost deserted.

So far, despite his servants fussing about the need to prepare for the holy procession, he had spent the morning distracted by a series of frantic discussions attempting both to assess his rivals for the arch-lector’s seat, as well as lay the ground work for his own bid. The College of Lectors consisted of a somewhat disparate membership, each Lector having his own, unique collection of concerns, loyalties and ambitions. Some of the competition he could dismiss immediately, as for example the Trantian Lector Erkhart. Yes, Erkhart once had considerable influence in Remas as foremost ambassador for the arch-lector, but this did not compensate for the unsavoury facts that his see was in a state of ruin, his absent flock scattered or butchered, and most damagingly his office had been attained in rather dubious (and violent) circumstances involving the convenient deaths of both his predecessor Lector Silvestro Marrufi and his ambassadorial colleague Fra Franco de Pistoni.

A much more challenging candidate was the Viadazan Lector Bernado Ugolini, the highest-ranking clergyman currently active in fighting the war. Although legally all lectors were of equal rank, some were more equal than others. Ordinarily, in more peaceful times, Lector Luigi would definitely have had the advantage, being the previous arch-lector’s deputy, but in this time of war against the church’s own particular enemy, and indeed the most terrifying of foes, then a warrior-lector was surely more appropriate candidate. Luigi might have the edge if Bernado could be painted as merely a soldier with nothing more to offer, but everyone knew the Viadazan to be clever, resourceful, and likable.

Then there was the added difficulty of the other ‘players in the game’, even those who could not themselves become arch-lector. What if the Reman Overlord Domenico Matuzzi, the legal ruler of the secular state, decided he had handed de-facto secular power over to Calictus in particular, rather than to whomsoever held the office? If Matuzzi were publicly to declare a favoured candidate, that alone could sway the lectors’ votes, for they would thus be voting for a man who would maintain the church’s doubled authority. Or what if Matuzzi decided to re-assert his right to rule, in light of Calictus’ failure? The overlord could then claim that Luigi, as Calictus’ deputy, was tarred with the same brush.

Lector Luigi had no idea who Captain-General Scaringella, the field-commander of all Reman forces, would favour. The general was currently marching with the city’s garrison to rendezvous with Lector Bernado and another Reman force, as per the deceased arch-lector's orders. If he was kept busy in the field, thus absent from the city, then Luigi could dismiss these concerns, but if - in light of the defeat in the north - the general chose to return home, then that could upset every plan, unbalancing all that had so far been put in place. Worse still, if the general decided now was the time for martial rule, and proved capable of bringing it about, the whole game could change altogether, as the fate of Remas would lie in the hands of a pompous and proud buffoon whose office was gained through merit of rank rather than any evident ability.  The general believed himself to be an expert manipulator and a natural strategist, and in a time of dire emergency, with the arch-lector dead and the overlord dithering, might thus assume he was the obvious answer to Remas’ prayers.

These were just a few of the balls Luigi was juggling. Several times over the centuries an almost unknown lector from a minor state had somehow attained the arch-lectorship. Occasionally, during times of upheaval, even lesser clergy had been thrust onto the throne, for there was no canon law prohibiting such a promotion, only usual practise. Was this current emergency one of those moments in history? The surge in cults, either new or re-invigorated, however understandable in light of the dire threat facing Tilea, was particularly worrying to Luigi. Flagellants and dedicants, sectaries and schismatics, the Disciplinati di Morr and the Carrafians – there was barely a household in Remas unaffected by these movements.  For months, Luigi had received daily reports of incidents, including unofficial processions, petty riots, and unlicensed preachers addressing large gatherings and collecting illegal offerings. Heretical pamphlets were so common as to be blowing around the streets like leaves, while the clergy were promoting or joining the unsanctioned cults. The houses of the rich were being plundered for ‘alms and offerings’, regardless of whether the master or mistress of the house wished to make such donations. On one recent occasion, powerfully magical prayers – the like of which should not be accessible to mere street preachers - had whipped a mob into a frenzy so wild that many had torn each other and themselves to pieces, for want of any undead to launch their fury against! Even the graveyards were being disturbed - not by ghouls looking for bones to gnaw upon but by cultists digging up corpses to burn and so prevent them ever being as undead. Such cremation was against all strictures of the church, which allowed only the burning of those corpses that had already been raised from the dead and those who were stubbornly impenitent of their blasphemies and heresies, for in both cases their souls were stained for all time and so forever unwelcome in Morr’s garden.

“Ah, here now,” he said, gesturing to a little group of three lesser clergy approaching. “Look here, Juanito. We shall have an explanation.”

“Yes, my lord,” muttered the rotund cleric bearing the golden chalice.

The new arrivals approached with their hands clasped before them, and bowed respectfully when they halted.

“Well,” said Lector Luigi, too impatient to wait for them to speak. “What is it? What has happened? Why are we not being watched by citizens?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector1_zpsl6n2uu6k.jpg)

The foremost of the little knot of clergy, Brother Balthasar, was wringing his hands, with beads of sweat across his brow. “My lord, the people are … elsewhere.”

“They await the full procession at the Garden?”

“By your leave, my lord, they do not. They attend another gathering.”

Lector Luigi shook his hand as if admonishing a young child. “I have to say that is most irregular, most inappropriate, altogether unworthy.” Then, as if expressing an idle afterthought, he asked, “Pray tell, Brother Balthazar, where are they?”

“They are in the market field by the Parco del Sapienza, listening to Father Aldo Carradalio,” the brother answered.

Luigi’s brow furrowed. “The master of the Reman Disciplinati? What is he saying?”

“I know not, my lord, but he has a small army of guards, and last night he was all that the common folk were talking about.”

Brother Pasquale, standing a little behind Balthazar, suddenly piped up. “My lord, it is said that he would put himself forward as a candidate for the Holy Seat.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector2_zpsywuejm7m.jpg)
Lector Luigi laughed, having to straighten his mitre as a consequence. “How can he make such a claim if he refuses to attend the mourning parade of the last arch-lector?”

For a moment there was silence, until Balthazar realised that Brother Pasquale was not going to offer an answer and said, “I think, my lord lector, there is little Carradalio or his followers do or say that is respectful of tradition.”

Then Pasquale did speak. “Carradalio preaches schism at best, heresy at worst. What he proposes is worse than anything Sagrannalo ever commanded. Nothing but Morr is sacred to him.” Here he made the holy gesture of Morr’s protection, then added, “My lord, ought not soldiers be sent to disperse the Disciplinati?”

Lector Luigi clapped both his hands upon his face and began rubbing his eyes as if trying to wake himself up. When his hands fell away he was blinking furiously. Eventually he said, “No, no! We have insufficient soldiers. The Palace Guard are dispersed along the processional route, barely numerous to protect the dignitaries as it is, while General Scaringella has taken the rest.”

“Then, my lord,” asked Balthazar, “what are your orders?”

“I shall have to speak with Cararadalio myself, perhaps tomorrow.” said the lector. “In the meantime, we shall not forget tradition. Morr is honoured by such, and his church made holy by proper practises. Come, brethren, let us join in prayer before we go where we must.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector3_zpso4suphlx.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 21, 2016, 08:11:31 PM
Part Two: Beside the Parco del Sapienza

The Disciplinati had formed a ring around the wooden platform. Unusually for such lay-brothers many carried crossbows, which they held ready-spanned as they scrutinised the crowd.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector11_zps7ak1trnk.jpg)

Some among the watching crowd pondered the reason behind the crossbowmen. Was it intended that they would shoot any who approached too close? Or perhaps anyone who made a nuisance of themselves by shouting abuse, complaints or comments of any kind contrary to Father Carradalio’s speech?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector12_zpssow17ako.jpg)

No-one was willing to test these theories, and instead all listened in silence, almost motionless. Most of the guards also stood stock-still, their eyes alone moving to scrutinise the little portion of the encircling crowd before them, while a handful of guards strode menacingly back and forth, as if to better see whoever they suspected of being trouble-causers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector10_zpsqlzzeqxw.jpg)

Nearly all the Disciplinati wore hoods to their robes. Some had not pulled them up, all the better (perhaps) to inspect the multitude before them. Others, however, made use of them, so that their eyes were concealed in shadow to appear even more threatening.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector13_zpssuook5xu.jpg)

Immediately beside the platform supporting Father Carradalio stood a brace of torch bearers. Considering the afternoon’s bright sun, their presence had to be symbolic. Of exactly what, time would tell, for Carradalio intended to talk a little of burnings, and had thought it right and proper that the flames should be ready-lit.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector9_zpsgulg5tbc.jpg)

The crowd was kept at a distance that seemed inconvenient for an open air speech, but Father Carradalio was no ordinary speaker. His voice carried impressively far, so much that there had to be magic wound into it. Although several scriptures spoke of holy men who could perform such a feat, it was not something that had been experienced in recent years. Sagrannalo, more than fifty years previously, was the last known to have employed such an holy enchantment. Few listeners were surprised, however, for it was commonly held that the spirit of Sagrannalo was reborn in Carradalio, returned from Morr’s garden to the mortal realm just when he was needed, grown more powerful than before to suit a more dangerous time. The first time, it was said, he had been defeated by Tilea’s own corruption, proving the realm was unworthy of him. Now time again would tell whether the realm was ready for his guidance.

This was Father Carradalio's speech:

“Calictus is dead, his grand army scattered, the abhorrent foe victorious. Remas is threatened with oblivion.

“But know this - a threat is not fate. Defeat is not inevitable. Remas need not be weakened by these losses. We can instead grow stronger. We simply need to do what must be done.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector6_zpsmfztzhqo.jpg)

“Should we perpetuate Calictus's mistakes? Are we forced to repeat his errors? No! But we can learn from them. He strayed from true religion, possessing only a feeble understanding of Morr’s glory, for he was mired in ages-old ignorance, swayed by the scholarly teachings of those who attempt to balance the powers of every lawful god. We must not wallow in such obfuscations, but lift ourselves above all that has gone before, above the murky eminence of other gods, to see Morr’s light, bright and clear. With full faith in Morr we can attain true understanding, becoming stronger than ever before. Morr the Supreme is our destination, our eternal end, the god of gods. He is everything and all we need, now and evermore. Through him, with him, we cannot be defeated.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector7_zpsfyp2chvw.jpg)

“I need not prettify up my words for political gains, nor do I bend them to serve the plans of mortal masters. I serve only Morr, and so need never lie. Neither do I guess, nor gamble, nor grasp at hope. I speak only the truth, and I speak it plainly.

“To serve Morr fully, with all due reverence, our own house must be put in order. All those priests who pander to the nobility, or who play at politics, have lost touch with true faith. They know neither Morr nor those who dwell in his garden. Arch lectors and lectors alike have sought worldly wealth and power, patronised artistic endeavours and lived luxuriously. None of this satisfies Morr.

“The vampires are the dark truth of nobility, for they seek worldly power beyond even death. Robed eternally in silks, wallowing in riches, and ruling their downtrodden servants with a cruelty beyond measure, they are the very epitome of greed, lust and pride.  How can we expect to defeat their vile extremity of wickedness while we remain obsessed with our own wealth and power? If we fail to divest ourselves of such yearnings, and prove unwilling to discard all gaudy trappings of wealth, then we become merely pale imitations of the evil that is vampirism. We become as naughty little children faced with wicked monsters.

“Our Tilean lords, in every principality, care not for the people, nor how they might best serve Morr, but rather seek only to squeeze gold from their realms, to conquer new territories and to steal more from their neighbours. In pursuit of such, they are spendthrift with their subject people’s lives, while miserly in the piling up of treasures. How many towns and villages have been plundered by rampaging armies or razed to the ground to deny plunder to the enemy? These wars of spoliation, more suited to brute ogres and bickering greenskins, enrich the rich but weaken the land. In behaving this way, our warrior nobility reveal their true nature as pale imitations of true evil and apprentices to vampirism.

“The poor are forced to watch their children starve, their daughters raped and their sons mustered to fight for some lord's pride and ambition. And what becomes of all this wickedness? Only more wickedness, as Tilea, reeling from her wounds, is now attacked and overwhelmed by the foul undead hordes. And then all the children die, our daughters become vampires’ playthings, and every soldier is transformed into a putrid puppet manipulated by the dark magics of necromancers. We shall all be nothing more than shambling, mindless slaves, cursed never to dwell in peace in Morr’s garden, but to spend eternity lost in the hell between life and death.

“Yet I say to you, if we are willing and able to endure all that must be done, to remain steadfast in the cause, to give ourselves wholly and humbly to Morr, then such horrors shall not be our fate.

“Until now the holy war has been fought by the likes of Sigmarites and Ulricians, dwarfs and elves, even Arabyans - mercenaries all, who would fight for any cause, whether good or bad, if pay were forthcoming. They have grown accustomed to fighting their own kind. This time, however, the enemy is not as a mirror to them, sharing the same goals of wealth, success, power or adventure, but rather a foe of unbounded wickedness, bereft all compassion, contrary to all that is natural and heavenly, set directly against the laws of men and gods. And so the condottieri have failed - their lack of faith their undoing. When faced by the living dead, all lucre loses its promising glitter, all pride pales, and all professed honour and skill is found wanting. How can such dogs of war stand firm in the face of such a foe? They cannot! Their arms and armour, their drilling and postures, their hurried prayers to Myrmidia, Sigmar or some desert devil – all these things are entirely insufficient for the task.

“This war is Morr's war, our war, and it can only be fought by those truly dedicated to him, whose every thought is of him, whose every act is in his service. Who are these saviours, you ask? They are you! All of you! For you shall be warriors of Morr.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector5_zpsocmd8ecr.jpg)

“There are those few among you descended from families of faith, possessing a purity of lineage that makes you his perfect servants, who have been taught from infancy to embrace the truth. You are ready to fight now, your mortal frames ripe to channel Morr’s mighty will. And then there are the rest of you, the vast throng. Perhaps your blood is tainted through no fault of your own? Or your understanding is weakened by false teachings? Or your merits stained by past deeds and thoughts. Yet you too can be made perfect in the eyes of Morr, fashioned into his weapons, by nothing more nor less than scourging yourselves of all weaknesses and doubts, mortifying your flesh until all contrary desires and distractions slough away, relieving yourselves of all material distractions, and focusing your bodies, minds and souls on Morr and Morr alone.

“All those who cannot be so purified must be destroyed, for our purpose is pure and oneness is the very nature of purity. One god, one people, fearlessly striking the foe as one. We must weed out the unworthy not merely to save their souls, but foremost to prepare Tilea for war, by ensuring that only the pure, the tried and tested, remain, and that Morr’s army is a perfectly honed blade. Who can doubt that our deadly justice is in fact a medicine, ordained by both mercy and necessity, for the good of all, be they sinners in peril or the blessed of Morr, be they living or dead? How else can we become the limbs of Morr, by which he can smite his enemies?

“Rank and nobility, offices and preferments, are of no consequence to Morr. Anyone and everyone, no matter their title, must accept the truth, and gold buys nothing from Morr the Supreme. Straying souls must be punished, that they might be purified, and if they cannot perform the correction upon themselves, then they must yield to Dedicati’s attentions. The irredeemably wicked and sinfully weak among us taint Tilea, nor are they welcome in Morr's heavenly garden, so they must burned, just as the undead are burned, for neither are welcome in the afterlife. Purity - regardless of wealth, power and office - is all that matters. It is all that will save Tilea from the approaching evil.

“So I say to you, if you yourself have, or anyone else you know has, committed an error in the faith, then you must come before the inquisitors of the Dedicati di Morr to confess or denounce.

“And I say to you, if you yourself, or anyone else you know, covets the glitter of gold, the gleam of gems and the fangles and baubles of material prosperity, then rid yourself and others of such distractions.

“Tear up both sinful flesh and fancy fripperies. Burn away both evil thoughts and rich distractions.

“In this way we shall cleanse Remas of corruption, cure it of weakness, and so prepare it for the fight to save all that is good. Now more than ever we must nurture the vine that is the church supreme, cutting out all heresies, all vices and all weaknesses from our hearts.

“When we are all made equal before Morr, in humility and purpose, cleansed of wickedness through penitential acts, he will pour his blessings on us. Some will be gifted the strength to fight fearlessly, for they will know that heaven awaits them. Some will become the blessed channels of Morr’s unstoppable power to destroy the undead.

“Made strong together our victory is inevitable, and we shall win salvation for all our souls and the souls of all those who come after.

“All praise and thanksgiving to Supreme Morr!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/NewArchLector8_zpsk7gir6ki.jpg)

“Let the purification begin!”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on November 22, 2016, 09:29:14 PM
Truth is beauty and beauty is truth.

your representation here perfectly convey's Morr's truth in this strange place which echos the real world.

The brothers and sisters of Tilea will rise up and overthrow all of those who suck the lifeblood of the common people and will, in solidarity, enact, Morr's will.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on November 22, 2016, 09:36:16 PM
In other words, this is a f###king work of art.

Brilliant and beautiful
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: RE.Lee on November 23, 2016, 08:05:09 AM
Great stuff - still probably the most unique campaign round here. Always a pleasure to read  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on November 23, 2016, 01:51:09 PM
It was really worth the wait. I love it and had something to pleasantly kill some time during today's lunch. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on November 23, 2016, 08:40:23 PM
Absolutely superb sir!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Burtx on November 27, 2016, 06:59:00 PM
Excellent stuff!

Hey padre, this looks like you in real life  :Ohmy:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 27, 2016, 07:53:49 PM
Ah, but I shaved my beard off on Tuesday last. The belly's about right, still.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 23, 2016, 08:39:46 PM
End of season 8 General Report (Winter 2402-3)

A Letter to my most noble Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo, sent from the city of Pavona, recently delivered of the threat of destruction at the hands of Razger Boulderguts’ brutes, from your loyal servant Antonio Mugello. I pray this missive finds you blessed by all the gods, and that the realm of Verezzo lies both happy and secure, untouched by the misfortune suffered by so many other Tilean principalities.

It seems the brute horde has at last departed the realm of Pavona, having circumnavigated the city in a most murderous and destructive fashion, razing Montorio and Todi to the ground. This being so, and now that such communication is possible, I took the first available opportunity to dispatch unto you this missive. Duke Guidobaldo has proclaimed to his subjects a kind of victory, for although no battle was fought by his army, yet he has somehow seen off Boulderguts and Mangler’s double army of ogres.  I cannot claim to know the truth, but even Razger Boulderguts must a have baulked at the thought of attacking a mightily-walled city garrisoned by a very substantial and veteran army. The duke is not short of artillery, so that the walls bristle with muzzles. And more than these, there are novel engines of war the like of which I have never seen, including a collection of monstrosities bearing rank upon rank of fireworks, a kind of explosive rocchetto. Having witnessed one demonstration it seems to me that successful employment in battle would leave the field reeking of burnt ogre-flesh.

The mood in the city is not one of celebration, however, for all joy has been tempered by the first pangs of real hunger, and all relief is soured by the knowledge that the fields of both Todi and Casoli are lain waste, the livestock stolen, and the city’s storehouses almost empty. The town of Scozzese avoided destruction at the ogres’ hands, for the duke ordered the demolition of the bridge at Casoli and the winter waters were too deep and fast flowing even for Razger’s brutes to cross. Yet word has come only today that Scozzese was nevertheless threatened by a greenskin force, perhaps the ogres’ gnoblar servants, and had to pay a high price in gold and all-too precious vittles to avoid a similar fate to those Pavonan settlements north of the river.

It is commonly said that the double army of brutes has moved away westwards, along the Via Aurelia, the very same road that brought them here. No-one knows if they plan to wreak further devastation in the vicinity of Remas or if they intend to return northwards, whence they came.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Beni Mobili (Goods and Chattels)

“’Tain’t right,” complained Mags, catching his breath in the moment he and Brindill felt their burden lighten a little. The ground was levelling out after a long incline. “This ain’t fit work for the likes of us. This is for runts and burden beasts to do.”

“There’re no runts or beasts left,” said Brindill. “They’re all gobbled up.”

“I know that. Still don’t make it right.” Glancing to the side he growled under his breath. “Looks like Mangler’s boys have plenty to haul their wagons.”

“That’s ‘cos they’ve got nearly all the loot, gold and grub, which buys ‘em whatever they want,” said Brindill. “They can pay more than a runt’s weight in good fleshmeat, so they’re getting’ the irongut’s share.” Then he slammed his gut plate. “We gotta eat, which means they get all the runts we catch, an' all the ones they catch.”

“We’ve got loot. What’ya think we’re dragging?”

“We’re dragging the loot Razger’s got left after paying Mangler. Mangler’s service don’t come cheap, and for reasons he's keeping to himself, Razger’s willing to pay.”

“So why don’t Razger use this loot to buy us some burden beasts or runts?”

Brindill was shaking his head. “You ‘aven’t thought it through, Mags. If we use the loot to buy ‘em, then we ain’t got any loot for ‘em to pull, see?”

Mags panted through gritted teeth while he pondered the conundrum, a sound that joined in rhythmically with the creaking of the wagon wheels and the clattering of the chains.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c6_zps6bln2bv0.jpg)

He and Brindill had been hauling the heavily laden wagon since daybreak, their only rest having been to swap places when Mags complained about his aching arm. Now they were passing Mangler’s equally burdened but much more numerous wagons, which had halted for some reason. Several companies of ogres flanked them, providing walls of muscle and steel to protect the precious convoy tucked between.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c8_zpsoja2srd5.jpg)

Suddenly a shout came from the front of the flanking wagons.

“Proud of yerselves, boys? Doing gnoblar work?”

It was Gordok, one of Mangler’s bully boys. Brindil and Mags both chose not to acknowledge him, not even to look at him. This did not stop Gordok.

“Fair sweating, ain’t ya, ‘spite the cold? I almost feel sorry for ya. Then I remember how much loot we’re pullin’, an’ I feel ‘appy instead!”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c7_zpsbfjf9wdn.jpg)

“Just ignore him, Mags” hissed Brindil.

“If you’re getting’ tired, you want me to whip you?” shouted Gordok. “Works wonders on this ‘ere pack o’ runts.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c2_zps4jnjncpu.jpg)

As he spoke Gordok handled his long whip, the cord so thick it could serve as an anchor cable, while the slaves he was tending made a point of not looking at him either. Some wore only the ragged remnant of clothes, but the blue and white livery of Pavona was still evident amongst them as most had been captured either at the fall of Astiano or in one of several skirmishes since.  Some even retained helmets - their cruel new masters being un-interested in armour of such a diminutive size. Gordok prided himself in knowing his runts well. He had worked out, for example, how to distinguish those recently captured from those who had served him longer, simply by looking at the length of their beards, and he had learned (after a number of very bloody incidents) that if he employed all his strength then merely one lash of his whip could almost cut a runt in two.

“You think we should let the likes of him threaten us?” asked Mags.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c5_zpsrll2xylr.jpg)

“I think we should do what Razger told us to do,” said Brindil, his voice lowered. “And not cause trouble with Mangler’s boys until the time is right. Like I said, Razger’s willing to pay all they ask just now, but that don’t mean he’s gonna let Mangler keep it all. Seems to me that once we’re done fighting there‘ll be a reckoning.”

“Can’t come soon enough,” said Mags. “I’m ready any time. An’ if Gordok lives through it, let’s see how he does harnessed like a burden beast.” He glanced back at the oxen pulling the wagon behind Gordok’s.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c4_zpsxsvdecjk.jpg)

“It’ll be a tight fit,” he chuckled. “But I’ll get it on him, even if it kills him.”

“You'll get your chance. Seems to me that there’ll be more fighting yet, otherwise we’d have turned north by now,” observed Brindill. “An’ it’s about time Mangler’s boys got stuck in and did something to earn what they’ve got. Don’t get me wrong, I like the fighting, and there's been good feasting of both ours and the enemy’s flesh after, but Mangler’s boys have yet to show us anything worth boasting about. They’ve got the numbers right now, no doubt, but only ‘cos they’ve avoided any real scrapping.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c1_zpskdygs850.jpg)

“Just like they’ve avoided any work too,” said Mags. “They’re good for nothing.”

“Once they've been properly bloodied in battle, then we'll see how good they are," said Brindill. "It’s not all bad, you know. If they’re letting us take the lead, then we can set the pace.”

“Aye, and save our strength for when Razger finally tells us to show them who’s boss.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/endrep8c9_zpssyu3myc3.jpg)

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

This report, consisting of Mugello's letter (and the illustrating stories) to be continued …

Note: It's nice to have some time on my hands over the Christmas break! Other stories are under construction, photos and text, even now.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 26, 2016, 10:01:25 PM
End of Season 8 General Report (Winter 2402-3) Part 2
Antonio Mugello’s Letter Continued

As all in Tilea now know, the war against the vampires has taken a turn for the worse. His Holiness Calictus II is reported to have perished in the great battle at Ebino, his army having been utterly broken and what few survivors there were fleeing southwards in desperate haste. None of this bodes well for Tilea, especially in light of the terrible destruction wreaked by Razger Boulderguts’ brute army in the heart of the peninsula. The military might of Remas is a mere shadow of its former self, consisting of little more than the garrison army commanded by Captain General Scaringella, so that the southern realms of Portomaggiore and Alcente are the only great states still able to muster full armies in the field. Yet here in Pavona it is commonly held that all is far from lost, for it is now known that the young lord Silvano, Duke Guidobaldo’s sole surviving heir, a bold and noble youth who chose to honour his vows to fight the wickedness in the north despite the threat presented to his father’s realm by the ogres, survived the battle at Ebino and is even now returning home. More than that, the small but veteran Pavonan army Lord Silvano commanded is still largely intact, for the arch-lector sent them away to assist in Pavona’s struggle against the ogres, being satisfied that he could replace their numbers in his army with the mercenary Sons of the Desert.

Thus it is that Duke Guidobaldo has marched westwards from Pavona intent upon rendezvousing with his son’s army, perhaps even the young lord himself, thus re-constituting the sort of conquering force the duke used to win his several victories against Astiano and Trantio. The army left the city to the sound of cheers from the crowd, perhaps made all the louder by the heartening fact that the soldiers would no longer need to be fed from what supplies remain in the storehouses? I cannot presume to know Duke Guidobaldo’s exact purpose, but at the least he must intend to drive the ogres away, if not to exact bloody revenge upon them for what they have done. Whatever his purpose it means that the Pavonan army most likely constitutes the greatest force in the north, and one able (perhaps bolstered by whatever allies join them) to make a stand against the undead in the field of battle. In accordance, my lord, with the wishes you expressed in your last missive to me, I intend to follow the Pavonan army to learn what I can of the duke’s whereabouts, intentions and fate. In light of the angry nature of the duke’s previous correspondence with you, I will do my utmost to forewarn you of any signs of aggression towards Verezzo. Be assured, however, what with his own subjects and soldiers facing many months of hunger, and with the threat of both ogres and vampires looming, the duke must surely have enough to keep him occupied without looking to fight upon any other fronts.

I am almost loathe to report this next matter to you, my noble lord, for I have but rumours and travellers’ gossip to rely upon, including a man who claimed once to have been a brother of the Arrabiatti. He told me, and all others who would listen, that Lord Totto, commander of said brotherhood, lives, and is even now working to recruit warriors to the brotherhood. This man, whose name it is pointless for me to repeat for it cannot have been his true name, spoke in a most contradictory manner, as if he had been driven mad by what he had suffered and witnessed. At one and the same time he encouraged all young men he met to travel north to join the brothers, whilst also swearing that very few would do so, for the north was home only to manifested nightmares. Such stuff I would never have thought worthy of report, except that he spoke of something else, which seems to be confirmed by reports from other sources. He said that the Estalian Compagnia del Sole, commanded by Capitano Bruno Mazallini, has crossed the Tilean Sea to disembark at Urbimo, brought there by contract. Neither he nor any other could tell me anything but idle speculation concerning the identity of Mazallini’s employer. But if true, then perhaps Tilea can draw encouragement from the presence of another army able join the fight against either or both vampires and ogres. If common sense is of any worth in this time of war, then the Compagnia can only have been brought here for that purpose, for it would surely be madness to suppose that Mazallini would agree to serve either a vampire or an ogre tyrant. Unless, that is, it is the Wizard Lord of Campogrotta who has bought them, perhaps to replace his army in the field should Boulderguts decide he is sated and it is finally time to quit Tilea?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Home Again
By the Bay of Urbimo

“I don’t know about you,” said Baccio, “but I never expected to be back in Tilea so soon.”

Ottaviano chuckled. “We certainly returned a lot quicker than it took us to leave.”

“Good to be back in the saddle though,” said Baccio. “And with Myrmidia’s blessings, let’s hope we’ll fare somewhat better this time.”

The smile left Ottaviano’s face.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8a5_zpstwvnjuld.jpg)

“Fare better? We were defeated and chased away by nothing more than men. Now we return to a realm swarming with base brutes and unthinking undead,” said Ottaviano. “Yet you think it might go better for us this time.”

“I said I hoped so,” countered Baccio. “Besides, Razger Boulderguts and the vampire duchess were already busy enough when we were here before.”

“Oh yes, they were busy - in the distant north, far away from us. Since then Boulderguts has stomped his way into the very heart of Tilea, and there’s nothing I know of to stop the undead following on behind.”

Baccio sniffed. “Good job we’re here then, eh?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8a3_zpsyrn2stdz.jpg)

Ottaviano gave his companion a despairing look. “You think we could stop them? Fortebracchio’s Compagnia was utterly defeated in nothing more than a petty war between tyrants – the same old same old for Tilea. Since then, however, the apparently unstoppable army of Pavona has been humbled by a double army of Ogres, the Duke’s rich realm ransacked and razed while the holy Morrite army of Remas, despite being bolstered by the famed Sons of the Desert, has been torn to pieces by unliving armies of the northern vampires. Mazallini’s Compagnia ain’t that much stronger than Fortebracchio’s was, yet you think it can take on the sort of armies that can bring Pavona and Remas to their knees?”

“So the enemy has changed,” said Baccio dismissively. “Different times, different employer, different enemy. Forewarned is forearmed, and Captain Mazallini is not Fortebracchio.”

“When we served Fortebracchio we had but one enemy to contend with, whereas now just about everyone is our enemy. The Pavonan duke is hardly likely to embrace us as friends, the ogres attack and pillage everything they encounter, and the vampires are an enemy to anyone alive.”

Baccio rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you’re mentioning this just now, Ottaviano. It would have made for a miserable sea journey to hear you whining in such a manner. So much better that you waited for us to land before pointing out the dire folly of our coming.”

“I’m just telling it like it is.”

“Ever the pessimist, aren’t you? To my mind, there’s more to it. As far as we know, the Pavonan duke is not defeated, and if Renzelli’s crossbows do serve in his army, then his hatred of the Compagnia must surely have waned. We are Capitano Mazallini’s men, not General Fortebraccio’s. Does it matter that our emblem is the same? We’re not the Pavonans’ enemy. They don’t want more enemies, old or new, but instead plead for help and allies from any quarter. As for the Remans, even though the arch-lector is dead, the city state itself has not fallen, and still has an army in the field. It’s not like we’re the only force left. Then there’s the fact that our new employers can’t be defenceless. The mountain dwarfs have always been renowned as warriors, and the Bretonnians will fight even when not paid to do so, for nothing but honour alone.”

“There’s probably some truth to what you say. But you’re forgetting that they say Duke Guidobaldo’s realm has been burned. If so, then the Pavonan army is hungry. Remember what Edoardo Cuoco wrote: ’Victuals is the soul of an army: money but the sinews. Without the first your army cannot fight, without the second but indifferently. But with both admirably well.’

“Oh, if it’s written in a book it must be true,” said Baccio sarcastically.

“Common sense tells you it’s true. You yourself have seen it to be so!”

“Point taken. I apologise. What else?”

“What?”

“Ottavanio, you’re always so thorough in your dismantling of my arguments. Can I take it this time you agree with my assessment of Remas and our new employers.”

“No …”

“Thought not.”

“Remas remains free, yes, but I strongly doubt the arch-lector left the best of his soldiers at home when he personally led an army north to face the vampires ....

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8a4_zpszobmiqdl.jpg)
“ …Whatever rump of an army remains probably isn’t fit to call itself so. It’ll be little more than garrison troops, pressed men and a mob of Morrite fanatics. As for the mountain dwarfs and this Bretonnian lord, if they did have any real forces to speak of then they wouldn’t have hired us on such generous terms, would they? What the mountain dwarfs have – at least we all hope they have – is plenty of gold, but we’d be foolish to assume anything more. And this noble Baron Gregoire, I’d be surprised if he commanded anything more than a handful of over-eager tourney knights and a gang of filthy peasants.

The two fell silent, both lost in their thoughts. For a few moments, the world around them shared in their silence, until the sound of galloping hooves broke the spell.

“They’re coming,” said Ottaviano.

Baccio looked towards the gap in the rocky ridge, then spoke. “Well, at least the folk round here are pleased to see us. They bent over backwards to offer their port for our landing.”

“They did,” agreed Ottaviano. “A sign of their desperation, which further proves my point. The Urbimans have been begging Remas for aid for many seasons, desperate to bolster their defences, but to no avail. Now Remas has nothing to give. Of course they’re happy to see us, even if we don’t intend to stay, for while we’re here they are safe.”

“You mean ‘safer’,” suggested Baccio.

Ottaviano smiled. “Yes, that’s the more pessimistic way of putting it. Still, they’ll be very glad that it’ll take a while for the whole company to cross the sea.”

The first riders of a troop of mounted crossbowmen now emerged through the gap, garbed in the same livery as the two chancellors, being the blue and vermillion of the Compagnia del Sole.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8a2_zpszgaezluw.jpg)

“D’you think, Ottaviano, it’s possible the Urbimans had a hand in ensuring there weren’t enough ships to bring us all over as one?”

“No, Baccio, I don’t think that. It seems to me that the fear of ogres, vampires and ratto uomo is a perfectly satisfactory reason for ship’s captains to feel reluctant about sailing in the more northern waters of the Tilean Sea.”

“Hmm,” muttered Baccio. “That would do it.”

The horsemen, preceded by a cornet bearing the Compagnia’s Myrmidian white rod and half sun insignia and a lieutenant distinguished by the large yellow panache sprouting from his cap, rode by with barely a glance at the two chancellors.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8a1_zpsk826ples.jpg)

In light of the perilous situation in Tilea, Capitano Mazallini had no intention of dropping his guard, not even for a moment, which is why these and several other companies of light horse had been dispatched to watch every approach to Urbimo, at some distance from the town. Baccio and Ottaviano watched them pass, and then, without further words, made their own way back through the gap in the rocks. Lodging under the gods on the cold, hard earth was not for them this night. Instead spiced wine, a warm fire and a straw bed awaited them in the biggest inn Urbimo had to offer. Both had decided that there was plenty enough hardship to come soon enough, and neither wished to bring it about any earlier than necessary.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
This report to be continued
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on December 27, 2016, 10:23:43 AM
Great stuff Padre. I'm really thinking about printing this chronicle and placing it in a fancy notepad, with all manner of WFB-style ornaments. It's great stuff!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 28, 2016, 04:52:31 PM
Xanthrodox, you've put an idea in my head, and I am surprised it wasn't there before. Thank you! Now, back to Tilea ...



End of Season 8 General Report (Winter 2402-3) Part 3

Antonio Mugello’s Letter Continued

I know, my lord, you understand how distance decreases the reliability of my reports, so that I would never presume to suggest that you should wholly trust the information I have gleaned concerning faraway places. I also know, however, that anything potentially important ought still to be passed on to you so that you and your advisers can compare what I have written to that reported by your other servants across Tilea. In this manner, you might take a step closer to the truth, by sifting out bias, geographical distortions and the like, in order to uncover the similarities. Thus it is that I now turn to more distant events, for which I rely upon the tales of less reliable sources, such as the second or third hand accounts of travellers or the tavern talk of those who have received communication from distant family or associates. Pavona is no sea port, and has effectively endured a blockade whilst the brute, double army circumambulated its environs, yet in recent days there has been a renewed flow of traffic.

I will begin with the far south, where the soldiers of the VMC are said to have recaptured all that had been seized by goblins. Pavezzano is being repopulated, that it might once again become a prosperous port. The town of Pugno, which were it not for the Gargese mountains would be so close to Pavona, has been cleansed of goblins. Several mountain men, until recently frustrated in their efforts to gain passage by the ogres, have now come into the city with their mule trains of furs. It is from these that I learned that Pugno was taken only a month or so ago, the last surviving goblins fleeing into the mountains. So it seems that the VMC now governs a vast swathe of territory, from Pugno and Monte Castello upon the Bay of Wrecks in the east, to the town of Mintopua overlooking the Pirate’s Current in the west, and as far north as Capelli by Sussurio Forest. Furthermore, their novel admixture or mercantile and military might has not necessarily been diminished at all by the fight against Khurnag and his foul minions, for little in the way of real fighting was done apart from the battle at Tursi. It would perhaps be prudent to presume that their forces have swollen in proportion to the size of the realm they now rule. Surely no native Alcentian could have known what would happen as a consequence of their request for aid from the Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie?  What they thought was an offer of very generous trade rights in return for military assistance, has become effectively complete domination by a foreign power. And yet the company’s forces contain plenty of Tileans. The VMC has even begun work repairing and (perhaps in light of its failure to withstand the goblins’ siege) improving the mighty fortress of Monte Castello. Perhaps they see their now substantial Tilean possessions as a mere footstep to even greater wealth, and power? Are they planning to monopolise all trade with the Border Princes, as well as oust all other northern interests from the Black Gulf routes to Araby? Who can measure the limits of their greed and ambition?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

On Stony Ground

Monte Castello

The double walled fortress of Monte Castello had seen better days. The outer wall was breached in several places, including the main gate tower. Its previous occupants, Big Boss Grutlad and his goblins, had made repairs of a kind, although it was debatable whether or not their repairs constituted an improvement to the castle’s defensibility. From the sea, many hundreds of braccia below the cliffs upon which the castle was perched, the place looked deserted, apart from a couple of columns of smoke arising from within the inner wall. Taking a landward approach, however, you would see one or two blue coated handgunners patrolling the walls, while a scattering of labourers  clambered over the rubble mounds, operating make-shift cranes to shift the stones hither and thither.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8b6_zpseaebo6xd.jpg)

At the gate tower Captain Singel’s chief assistant Adolar Gansz was inspecting the progress made by two of the shore party men left behind to make a start on proper repairs. They had spent hours already clearing rubble away with no particularly discernible effect.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8b1_zpsl5q0elhi.jpg)

Bernt Reitter, a balding Marienburger who had been at sea since before he could grow a beard and having served the VMC for more than a decade, leaned on the stick he was using to pry the rocks out and spoke.

“Master Gansz, I have to ask, considering the paltry number of men we have here and the enormity of the work needing done, wouldn’t we be better finishing what the greenskins began, instead o’ starting afresh?”

 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8b3_zpst7buergp.jpg)

Gansz, a tubby sort of fellow wearing the loose breeches, short waistcoat and simple woollen hat favoured by many a northern seaman, looked over his spectacles at Bernt. “No,” he said bluntly. “What the goblins built won’t do at all, not even as the foundation for something better. Look at it. It’s nothing more than rickety, rubble filled hoardings, half nailed and half tied into place. Fire could bring it down in half an hour, and artillery could shiver the whole thing to splinters with only one or two shots. Why, with nothing more than a gully knife I could cut one of these ropes and make this whole side collapse.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8b2_zpshlpmjy1t.jpg)

“I told you Bernd,” said Heiner, the other man present. “The goblins did nothing good here, apart from leaving, and even then they left a right stink behind ‘em.”

“I wasn’t praising their efforts,” complained Bernd. “Just pointing out the impossibility of us few making much difference.”

“Just be glad that you’re here shifting rocks and not in there shifting dung,” said Gansz, gesturing with his thumb towards the inner wall.

“If I was going to complain it wouldn’t be about that,” said Bernd.

Gansz’ face took on a pained expression. He took off his glasses and began wiping them upon his shirt. “Go on then, spit it out. What would you complain about?”

“I don’t see why the general took the greenskins away with him when they could have been put to work here, shifting this lot and shovelling their own sh …”

“Ha!” laughed Heiner, cutting short Bernd’s words. “A small army of goblins, renowned across the world for treachery and base cunning, with only us few to guard them. What could go wrong?”

Bernd narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Heiner hefted the hammer he’d been using with a chisel to break some of the bigger rocks onto his shoulder. He was quite a contrast to his workmate, for where Bernd had a bald pate and stark cheekbones, Heiner had hair and jowls enough for the both of them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8b5_zpsnceulsd9.jpg)

“The general had other ideas for the goblins,” added Heiner. “Let them fight their own kind to retake Pugno. Goblins fighting goblins means less losses for us.”

“I don’t think the general needs a commentary upon his tactics from the likes of you two,” said Gansz. He replaced his glasses and, hands on hips, took the measure of the complaining seaman. “This is heavy labour, granted, but you’re a labourer – a labourer at sea. You’re not winding a windlass nor hauling a halyard, you’re hefting stones. What’s the difference to the sweat on your back? Those who marched away, they’re labourers too – labourers in arms. Would you rather be out there marching for miles and day and all so you be bloodied at the end of it? We get paid either way, and here we have shelter and plenty of grub …”

“If you like fish,” interrupted Heiner.

Gansz furrowed his brow and fixed his over the spectacles stare upon Heiner.

“Which of course we do,” laughed Heiner. “Like you said, we’re sailors.”

“Just get on with it, won’t you?” ordered Gansz …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EndRep8b4_zpsps1fv44r.jpg)

… “I’ll come back before nightfall to see how you’ve done.”

The two seamen said nothing more, recommencing their labour. Gansz took his leave, slipping and cursing several times as he scrabbled over the rocks back into the castle’s outer ward. As soon as he had gone Berd and Heiner stopped working.

“You know,” said Bernd, “he was a mere grommet when I served as bo’s’un on a Marie bark.”

“I did know,” said Heiner. “Then, while he mastered the art of gunnery you got plastered on the art of ale.”

“Very funny. Still, I’d rather take orders from Captain Singel, at least he’s a proper engineer – a gentleman who has studied his mathematicals. I’d like to see Gansz explain the rule of the sun.”

Heinar laughed. “The captain’s head is full o’ nonsense. You know where he is right now? He’s out looking for better stone! Here we are surrounded by the stuff, with more of the same beneath the earth, and he’s off to look for a better kind. An’ if he finds it then it’ll have to be quarried, then carved, then lugged up here. That’s work on top of work, and all unnecessary. He believes himself an architect.”

“And you think you know if he is or not?” scoffed Bernd. “You think you know what needs doing to rebuild a fortress?”

“I’ve done a fair bit of soldiering – plenty enough to know that a military engineer ought to be satisfied with building effective defences. Fancy flourishes and pretty carvings aren’t required.  Patch what needs patching, pile up some earth to make it better proof against shot, and be done. Once the general gets wind of it, he’ll make Singel see sense. General Valckenburgh is a man for getting things done – why else would the company employ him, give him so much authority? We turned the watchtower at Tursi into a fort overnight, and Khurnag’s army broke against it.”

“Tursi was mere earthworks. It was the guns and men on the works that smashed the orcs.”

“I’m not saying it was anything more than earthworks. What I’m saying is that it wasn’t shoddy work – it was exactly what was required for the job in hand. No time, effort or money wasted. The VMC intends to profit greatly from Tilea, and so far they’ve playing a very clever game laying the groundwork. A city state bought, towns and fortresses happy to be subjugated, the rest of Tilea thankful for the defeat of Khurnag’s Waagh, and goblin armies defeated with barely a blow dealt. The general even put the last lot of goblins to work serving the company’s purpose. The whole of southern Tilea is likely to fall under the company’s control, and the gulf along with it. The profits and dividends will be vast. Monte Castello doesn’t have to look pretty to play its part in commanding the Bay of Wrecks.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

This report to be continued
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on December 29, 2016, 08:44:05 AM
Glad I could help. Now to read the last chapter. :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on December 29, 2016, 10:11:04 AM
Mostly browsed the pictures. They already tell a story and give character!

Really need to find the time to read the updates from the past half year. Luckily I didn't get book presents this year, so maybe I can concentrate on this.  :-)

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Burtx on December 31, 2016, 10:01:33 AM
uh oh! I hope I can dodge my way out of any cinflict that is not heavily in my favour  :-D

Great stuff Padre. Your pictures and scenery get ever better still
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on January 01, 2017, 08:46:20 PM
Cracking stuff Padre

But stop giving away all my cunning plans
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 02, 2017, 11:28:36 AM
... stop giving away all my cunning plans

I would like to point out that (a) I have no idea whether these plans count as 'cunning', and (b) I don't know what your plans are at all. All I know is what NPCs might think your plans are, and in that story some NPCs do discuss them.

And Byrtx - I love that you only seek conflict that is not just in your favour, but 'heavily' in your favour. You Ogres are such bullies!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 10, 2017, 09:10:14 PM
End of Season 8 General Report (Winter 2402-3) Part 4

Antonio Mugello’s Letter Continued

From Alcente I will plot a course northwards. You, my lord, are almost certainly aware of the following news, but I include it so you might know that which I have learned here in Pavona. Earlier this week an emissary from Luccini arrived, missing the duke by a matter of days, and today departed in the hope of catching up with the duke upon the road. The emissary carries an invitation to King Ferronso III’s confirmation ceremony. The regent, Ferronso’s uncle Duke Ercole Perrotto, has apparently grown ill over the last few months, which most likely explains why the ceremony is being done at the earliest possible opportunity, to officially recognise the 15 year-old monarch as ruler in practise as well as name.

King Ferronso III, the boy-king, son of the ‘Lion’ of Luccini, King Ferronso II, here seen in his family’s famous Palazzo di Luce
 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/BoyKing_zpsbpwsdplb.jpg)

The ceremony will take place at the close of Spring, and it is presumed that all the neighbouring rulers will be invited, including the Reman Overlord Matuzzi, the arch-lector of Morr (whomsoever that is), Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiori and various lesser nobles neighbouring Luccini, such as current Gonfalonieri of Ridraffa, perhaps even the commander of the VMC in Alcente. I cannot see how Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona can possibly attend considering the precarious and dire state of his realm, and it would seem a similar species of madness were Overlord Matuzzi to attend, what with the immediate threat presented by Razger Boulderguts’ double-army. I have heard it suggested, cruelly, that ‘old’ Matuzzi, along with other nobility, might use the invite as an excuse to escape danger during this time of troubles? He did, after all, previously divest himself of his proper authority simply to shirk the responsibility of rule.

King Ferronso’s sister, Princess Mariangella, two years younger than he and of an age to be betrothed, is likely to become the focus of a second political concern in Luccini. It occurs to me now that young Lord Silvano is unmarried, and might well be considered a very eligible candidate. Whether or not the proud Duke Guidobaldo would wish to promote alliance with a far away and relatively weak state such as Luccini, however, is another matter. Besides, Lord Silvano has yet to safely return from his perilous adventures.

Again, my lord, you are probably more informed concerning the following matter than myself, but I intend to be thorough in my report on Tilea, and so will proceed in the confidence that you will not take my words as worthless. Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore seems to have finally quelled the unrest infecting Raverno, by taking it under his military rule. As to why he should do so, I think it very likely that he harbours doubts concerning the VMC’s intentions. After all, it was the VMC who sent a force to raze Camponeffro to punish Raverno for its treatment of their ambassadors. Lord Alessio’s own realm apparently enjoys peaceful prosperity, the profits of which enabled him to send forces of various kinds to assist in both the war against Khurnag’s Waagh and the Vampires of the north. While all these mercenary expeditions failed, smashed and scattered against much greater foes, Portomaggiore has nevertheless extended its dominion, acquiring control of Raverno and thus gaining a dependent marche to hinder and absorb any landward attack. If Lord Alessio were similarly to gain lordship of Luccinni, Ridraffa and even (may all the gods shield you) your own Verezzo, he would possess a great and wealthy state indeed, with his beloved Portomaggiore effectively fortified by an outer ring of petty states. Considering his own forces have yet to be committed to any real conflict, it is no wild supposition to assume he commands an army of considerable strength, making him perhaps the most powerful, living Tilean lord in the realm, not including stranieri, vampiri or bruti. I tell you this not to conjure unnecessary fears, but rather to reveal what seems possible, perhaps likely, to such an observer as myself.

Although the story of it has no doubt travelled throughout Tilea, by your leave I shall tell you all that I have gleaned concerning the battle before Ebino. The battle was great indeed. Morr’s holy army, composed of Reman soldiers, mercenaries under long term contract to Remas, the mercenary army of Arabyans commanded by Gedik Mamidous (sent by Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore), and the Pavonan Lord Silvano (Duke Guidobaldo’s lone surviving son) had begun the construction of a huge fortified camp, at the heart of which stood a sanctified - if makeshift - shrine to Morr. The soldiers drilled and laboured, while the genius Angelo da Leoni attempted to convert his steam powered war-engine into a mobile ramp from which to assault the walls, and the throng of priests began chanting powerful prayers to weaken the necromantic magic holding the enemy forces in this world. But all was to no avail, for the vampire duchess’s army sallied forth unexpectedly, much larger than the Remans had believed it to be, containing truly monstrous and unnatural beasts and engines, and caught Morr’s army unprepared. Their camp incomplete, their mighty war machine weakened by the work being done upon it, and their army made up mostly of mercenary troops with little faith in Morr, all added together to cause disaster. The priests’ prayers, their suppliant rites barely begun, wrought little harm upon the foe, and the undead wreaked great slaughter.

A mere fraction of the arch-lector’s army survived to flee the field in disarray. Gedik Mamidous is rumoured to have escaped, along with perhaps half of his arabyans, as did Lord Silvano and the genius Master Angelo. The vampire duchess must surely have gained great strength from her enemy’s corpses, magically luring them from death to undeath and so into her service. It is said she is now establishing a mockery of the church of Morr, with lesser vampires masquerading as priests and mobs of shambling zombies gurgling foul hymns, claiming Nagash to be the god of gods.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/CathedralWithUndead_zpsbacavenw.jpg)

Yet she has halted, and does not seem to have advanced any further south than Ebino. None (alive) can know what has delayed her, whether it is merely her own inclination and desires, or whether she has other obstacles to overcome before advancing further.

What few folk have been brave (or foolish) enough to remain in Viadaza now live in fear of what could come at any moment. Having only recently completed the horrible work of cleansing the city of corruption, they now face the prospect of Viadaza once more falling under the abominable rule of the unliving. The people of Urbimo are only a little less worried, having gained some reassurance from Viadaza being closer to the evil, thus acting as a buffer against the duchess’s reach, and that (as I have already mentioned) the soldiers of the Estalian Compagnia del Sole are currently quartered in the vicinity providing an accidental garrison of considerable strength. Needless to say, Capitano Bruno Mazallini’s soldiers have been warmly welcomed and generously provisioned, even to the hardship of the populace, who are happy to suffer hunger and even the usual ignominies that invariably accompany the presence of condottiere, in return for the presence of seasoned soldiers. The prospect of aching bellies, pilfered trinkets and a gaggle of disgraced damsels fades into insignificance compared to the horrors of conquest by the living dead!

As I explained earlier, there is no certainty regarding why the soldiers of the second Compagnia del Sole have returned to Tilea, only conflicting reports. Some say it is merely the fact that their Estalian contract has ended, and that they have returned either by order of their Estalian employers or because they want new employment in Tilea, where there is doubtless need for their aid. Whether or not they already have a new contract is uncertain, for it may be that they have several offers, or perhaps one offer yet to be signed and sealed. Some say that the arch-lector Calictus II invited them, and if so Captain Mazallini must now be wondering what to do. Perhaps the Reman Overlord Matuzzi, or whoever succeeds to the arch-lector’s throne, will re-affirm the offer of contract? Other suggestions concerning their new employer include Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore (who, after all, has previously employed such large mercenary companies, and who’s own state has remained relatively untouched, and consequently prosperous, by the wars recently ravaging the peninsula)? Or perhaps they are to serve Duke Guidobaldo, brought so low by the brutes of Campogrotta, and no doubt eager for revenge and to regain what he has lost? Still others believe that they are in the employ of whichever Bretonnian lord believes himself to be the heir of Ravola, where what little remains habitable is garrisoned by ogres; or the mountain dwarfs of Karak Borgo, whose rich trade with Tilea has ceased completely; or the VMC, perhaps the only employer with the resources to actually pay the no-doubt massive sums offered to gain the Compagnia’s service? All, however, is speculation, which is possibly just what Captain Mazallini and/or his employer want.

It is reliably reported that there is turmoil in the great city of Remas, for as so often during the election of a new arch lector, a variety of factions are clashing over the decision. Even in times of peace there can be much upset, and all the moreso when the whole of Tilea is threatened with ruin. In theory, Overlord Domenico Matuzzi governs the state with signorial authority, and could not only influence the choice but could also rule the city with a strong hand whilst the election occurred, but as he voluntarily handed over the reins of power to the arch-lector he has made himself a weak candidate for de facto ruler even now that Calictus is dead. It is commonly expected that the new arch lector will continue to rule both church and state. The Reman Captain-General Scaringella leads a force in the field, presumably in an attempt to prevent the tyrant Boulderguts’ double army troubling the city state, which limits his own ability to influence the government of the city or the election of the new arch-lector, and means the chances of him establishing martial rule are low.

The Church of Morr has yet to decide upon Calictus’ successor, a decision made difficult not only by the number of candidates (the foremost being the lectors of Verezzo and Viadaza, Luigi Grasica and Bernado Ugolini respectively) but also by the radicalisation of the church in response to the growing threat from the north. Powerful cults have formed, the populace swelling the number of their dedicati, with Sagranalian tendencies and more than a smattering of the Pavonan heresy of Morr Supreme, and their leaders, particularly Father Carradalio and his Disciplinati di Morr, are also jostling for the arch-lectorship.

I shall return at the last to matters of which I am more reliably informed. Razger Boulderguts, his ravenous army swollen in size by Mangler’s band of brutes, is hauling a massive train of loot, plundered from Trantio, Astiano and the villages of Pavona. Until now all that Duke Guidobaldo’s soldiers have been able to do is slow his progress a little and (by razing some of their own lands) deny him some of the spoils he would otherwise have taken. Pavona now lies bruised and battered, which may well be the future fate of Remas if Boulderguts cannot be stopped. The duke commands a large army, which I myself saw mustered and marching from the city, as well as other forces like those sent away from Viadaza by the arch-lector as a gesture of solidarity concerning the ogre threat. But is his army sufficiently strong to defeat the brute double army? If only Prince Girenzo of Trantio were still alive, and commanding his armies. If only Remas had not lost the bulk of its forces in the war to the north. Then a grand alliance indeed could have been formed. As things stand, it may well be that all these once great powers can do is scrape together sufficient forces to defend their walls, and give thanks to the gods that they can do so. Again and again I have heard it said that the brutes and the vampires must be in league, the first growing rich upon all that they can steal, and sated on all the flesh they can eat, so that the latter can then take possession of the wasted land left in the brutes’ wake, turning the rotting remnants of the ogres’ victims into servants. And so, evil is piled upon evil as one hell begets another.

Your humble servant, Antonio Mugello
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on February 13, 2017, 01:19:22 PM
It's good to see that you're still making this campaign Padre. I have a bit of catching up to do. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 05, 2017, 11:26:12 AM
Media Vita in Morte Sumus
(In the midst of Death we are in Life)

Biagino grinned as he scrutinised the two prisoners before him, an expression of joy somewhat marred by the sharp fangs revealed in doing so, and the malignant gleam of his narrowed eyes.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas2_zpst251csdq.jpg)

They were the only two living people within a mile, yet this did not mean the graveyard was otherwise quiet, what with the fluttering of Biagino’s robes in the breeze and the clinking clatter of bone meeting iron armour – the undead were unquiet. 

“I have to say, this is a most pleasant surprise,” Biagino declared, his voice a croaking whisper, yet audible nevertheless. “You are exactly what I was hoping for. More than that,” he added, his dry hiss transforming into something more akin to a growl, “I like you. It will be a pleasure to have your service for a long, long time.”

The men before him were a disparate pair. Both exhibited deep fear, but each in their own, particular way. One, a dedicant of the Disciplinati di Morr, stood in desperate, rigid defiance, determined to die on his feet and so conjure the illusion of courage to the end. Open mouthed, he gulped at the air, like one who had only moments before been drowning. Both his robes and flesh were torn and bloodied, the delicious sight and scent of which stirred up with the smell of his hot, exhaled breath to arouse the ancient hunger in Biagino.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas6_zps9ybacqmc.jpg)

The other was a lesser priest. He knelt, his tonsured head bowed, wringing his hands tightly together as he stumbled over a prayer, his strained voice nothing more than a suppressed whine. A mortal man would have struggled to discern the words, but Biagino had the acute senses possessed by most vampires and could hear every syllable. Not that he needed to, for he knew the prayer intimately, having spoken if often enough when alive. It was a prayer for protection against evil.

(This is chopped into pieces to try and get it to post - there's a problem atm with uploading multi-picture posts.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 05, 2017, 11:31:15 AM
“Júdica Morre nocéntes me,” the priest intoned, forcing the words – along with spittle and blood - through clenched teeth, “expúgna impugnántes me … me … Confundántur et revereántur quaeréntes ánimam meam.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas5_zpshb0azdqk.jpg)

Biagino was surprised to feel the prayer’s potency working upon him. There was a sting to the words, a sharpness, as if their very sound was barbed, and the intent they carried scratched against some weakness hidden deep within him. Rather than recoil at the sensation, however, he gave himself up to it, like someone lowering themselves into bath waters a little too hot for comfort, and so turned the feeble curse into a source of stimulation. Quite contrary to its purpose, he was enlivened by it, pricked into an even more present awareness than his ordinary state of being.

“Your faith is palpable,” he said. “I am impressed by the power of it. Such spirit, such strength. I want you to keep these things, only I would have them serve the great Nagash and not your pathetic, sleeping excuse for a god. Morr is not worthy of such passion. It is wasted upon him. I will put your fervour to much better use.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas1_zps3bvdpazo.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 05, 2017, 11:34:34 AM
Biagino turned his attention to the two robed and hooded thralls standing behind the prisoners. They were the first of his newly made clergy, La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti. They too were vampires, but begotten in such a way that they were wholly beholden to his will. Their service was so complete that their very thoughts consisted almost entirely of echoes of his own; their minds were almost solely concerned with serving him, with just enough of their own, personal cruelty to revel in their deeds.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas3_zpszaeevmup.jpg)

It took only the tiniest of nods to convey his command, and the two thralls began chanting.

“Anima Nagashi, sanctifica me. Corpus Nagashi, salve me. Sanguis Nagashi, inebria me.”

“Yes, we are blessed by him,” said Biagino, and for a moment was tempted to join them in the chant. Instead he looked down at the Morrite priest, who was rocking gently as he continued his own prayer. Biagino chose instead to listen to the priest’s words, having completely forgotten that when alive the confused jumble of sound – rasping breaths, chanting thralls and mumbling priest – would have left him struggling to comprehend any individual part. Now no effort was needed, especially as the words were laced with delicate shards which prickled at his mind.

“Avertántur retrórsum … et  ... et … confundántur, co … cogitántes míhi mála.”

“I am not going to wrong thee,” complained Biagino, “but rather make thee right in the eyes of a true god. And I am afraid it is too late to overthrow us, for your battle was fought and lost.” He chuckled. “I am surprised you did not notice. It didn’t escape my notice, as you can see. Why don’t you turn your thoughts to what is to happen now? It is foolishness to dwell on that which has passed, that which cannot be changed. You would do well to accept that which is happening now, and to embrace that which is to come.”

The priest whimpered pathetically …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas7_zpsipba3uiv.jpg)

… then recommenced his weakening attempt at prayer, “Fíant táamquam pul … táamquam púlvis ante fáciem vénti …. et  … et Daemonus Morre coárctans eos.”

Biagino frowned. “Tut tut, good priest. You can see that I am not dust, and you know your prayer cannot make me so. As for the languid demons who serve your god, they are no more able to wake than he. Your prayer is wasted, your power is waned, your god is wanting.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 05, 2017, 11:39:37 AM
Biagino brought his staff down to point at the priest, mere inches from his bald pate. “Enough,” he hissed, for the first time allowing anger to brace his words. The priest fell silent, his hands suddenly limp, his shoulders sagging. Biagino had wrapped him in his own curse, unspoken as it was but much more powerful than anything the priest had conjured.
 (http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas9_zpsuhd5p5xt.jpg)

“Forget all the prayers you have learned. They are ash. Forget all whom you loved. They are lost. Forget all whom you knew. They are doomed. You are to be remade, your flesh refashioned to serve us despite its worldly corruption, and your mind will no more be your own. Oh, and you must learn some new prayers.”

The thralls’ chanting, delivered as if one voice, grew louder. “Aqua lateris Nagashi, lava me. Nagashi, conforta me. O Nagashi, exaudi me.”

“Listen, learn and know. He will wash the flesh from you, and give you strength like you have never known. And your prayers will allow almighty Nagash to drink deep of your soul.”

Biagino smiled, his eyelids part closing as malevolent satisfaction coursed through him. Then he turned his attention to the dedicant. This one would be easier, for not only was the man of a more malleable nature, his raw anger and fear already almost perfectly formed, but he had already made the mistake of looking into Biagino’s eyes. As soon as he did so, Biagino refused to let go, and within moments the man was so entranced that he lost the power to blink, or do anything else for that matter.   

Now Biagino joined the thralls’ droning intonation. “Intra tua vulnera absconde me. Ne permittas me separari a te. In hora mortis meae voca me, et custodierit me in aeternum, ut cum servos tuis laudem te in saecula saeculorum.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Biagino said, “Now, let us all pray together.”

The prayer was repeated, once, twice, thrice. By the fourth repetition both priest and dedicant also intoned. Biagino himself fell quiet, to watch and listen for a little while. When the prayer came to an end, there was silence.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas4_zpsybur7fcm.jpg)

Then Biagino made the tiniest of gestures with his forefinger. Quicker than any mortal man could manage, the thralls lurched suddenly forwards, arms outstretched, as if they might embrace the two prisoners as old friends.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/Fraternitas8_zpscpolvmpz.jpg)

Needless to say, that was not their intent.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on March 06, 2017, 09:35:10 AM
Awwww yesss, more awesome stuff from Padre. I'll certainly enjoy that one. :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 09, 2017, 12:10:01 AM
(Gonna have to chop this piece up again - forum can't deal with the amount of pictures ...)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By Order of the Praepositus Generalis
The City of Remas, Spring IC 2403
At the ruins of Tragustan’s Forum


(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control6_zpstxck1mbp.jpg)

Brother Vincenzo, Admonitor of the Disciplinati di Morr and thus Father Carradalio’s right-hand man, stood motionless as three more dedicants approached the ruins. He carried his staff of office, the brass top containing the holy relic of Saint Albudin’s upper teeth, while at his side hung a flask of thrice blessed water from the sacred spring at Tabbinu, a potent ward against vampires, the mere touch of which would burn and blister their skin more horribly than aqua fortis would mortal flesh. His many layered robes were voluminous, the sleeves so wide they hung to his knees, his heavy woollen hood almost entirely obscuring his eyes.

His guards, posted in a circle about him, gave the newcomers no heed, instead continuing to peer purposefully out into the surrounding woods whilst clutching their spears or polearms. This was just one of several such visiting groups that day, neither the first nor the last, and like all the others they were attired in the grey and red robes favoured by the dedicants of the Disciplinati di Morr. In such circumstances, the guards’ inattentiveness was understandable, but it now occurred to Vincenzo it might well prove dangerous. For all anyone knew, these three could be assassins in disguise – a sinister possibility made no less likely by the fact that two of them wore the full hoods so common amongst dedicants.

As they drew close, Vincenzo focused on the one face he could see, for the man wore nothing but a large zucchetto cap upon his head, and was pleased to discover it was Brother Gaspare. Further reassurance was provided by the fact Gaspare carried a sword, his left hand clutching the pommel, which would be odd indeed if he were an unwilling captive being used by the others to gain proximity. Nevertheless, now was not the time to make assumptions. This was a day of many murders and multiple treacheries across the length and breadth of the city. Success required calculated risks, not unnecessary ones.

“Halt,” he ordered while they were still ten yards away. “Speak.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control8_zpslfth5yv9.jpg)

It was Gaspare who replied. “By your leave, Brother Vincenzo, we have come to report the southern quarter is almost completely taken. Only a handful of dwellings remain barricaded against us, none of any significance, and their defiance cannot last.”

“Praise be to Morr!” prayed Vincenzo. “So the palazzos are already taken? Both Capistrano and Ordini?”

“Aye, brother, both of them. Some Capistrani bravi made a stand on the Ponte Sistotti, having lit a great fire on the Ponte Ruptus to ensure none could pass there instead. They were not many, but Marshal Raimondo and the Brothers of Righteous Pain* didn’t even stop to count them before charging the bridge.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control1_zpszvrumeag.jpg)

“Once those few were slain, those beyond the bridge lay down their arms, protesting they never wished to fight, only those fools already dead. The palazzo gates lay open, and Roberto Capistrani led prayers of thanks that we had so righteously corrected the rebellious bravi serving his foolish nephew on the bridge.”

“Still, he was taken prisoner, yes?”

“Of course.”

“And his nephew?” enquired Vincenzo.

“Either fled or hiding. Marshal Raimondo is searching for him now. If he is in the palazzo he will be found.”

Vincenzo was surprised at this news. He had expected considerable resistance from such a family as the Capistrano – the Reman nobilities’ long and bloody history of time-honoured hatreds had spurred many a clash of arms between them, even full blown sieges. The duels, disputes and disagreements between their petty armies of bravi could turn a street red, and their pride was famously obdurate. Perhaps the ease of victory was Morr’s work?  Perhaps the bravi recognised the holy origins of the dedicati’s fervour, and their fear of Morr proved greater than their pride?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 09, 2017, 12:11:23 AM
“What of the Ordini family?” asked Vincenzo.

“I myself witnessed what happened there,” said Brother Gaspare. “We approached their palazzo at the very same moment Brother Raimondo charged the Capistrano’s bridge. The Ordini’s men came out, armed and armoured, to meet us. No doubt they had already had word concerning what happened at the western Palazzos and knew full well we did not have gentle intentions.”

“They came out to fight?” interrupted Vincenzo. “Why would they do so?”

“I believe they thought a simple show of strength and the spillage of blood would send us running. We had crossbows, but such was the spirit filling us that several brothers dashed forwards to fight before any bolts could be released.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control2_zpsoc3ggy6o.jpg)

“One of their captains ran at Brother Damiano, a furious madness in his eyes, but Damiano simply waited, his axe raised …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control4_zpsruwno0m2.jpg)

“The captain lost his head when the cut was made. The others faltered, but not our brothers. Half the bravi were killed before another captain, maybe one of Galdio Ordini’s sons, ordered their retreat.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control3_zpssl6bojep.jpg)

“Such was our fury that before they reached the gate a further half of those left were slain. They could not hold the gate against us long enough to close it, and we took the palace easily. What few survived are now being held, as are the servants and a number of the family. Old Galdeo was not there, nor his sons.”

“You said one of his sons was in the street.”

“Possibly, brother. But that man could not be found either.”

Brother Vincenzo remembered Father Carradalio’s words: “Divide and rule – that’s the way. We must first foster the factions’ mutual distrusts, fan their rivalries and then, when the attack is made and most important of all, ensure they don’t have time to coordinate anyway. By the time they realise the danger they are in, it will be too late to unite into any sort of effective opposition.” Surely, thought Vincenzo, one or two escaped nobles could not present any sort of real threat later on? Besides, the noble factions were not the greatest threat to the Disciplinati di Morr’s capture of the city.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 09, 2017, 12:20:30 AM
“And the arch lector’s guard?” Vincenzo asked. “Did they not interfere?”

It was one of the hooded dedicants who spoke, his voice somewhat muffled as a consequence.

“We dealt with them before the attacks were begun. Father Gabrielle and myself met Captain Vogel in the first hour of daylight, in the gardens behind the Palazzo Montini. The captain said he knew what must be done, pledging himself a true servant of Morr, and agreed to Father Carrradalio’s terms.”

“All of them?”

“Aye, brother, but he demanded a particular concession.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control5b_zpsosh0mu57.jpg)

Captain Luppolt Vogel was a mercenary from Nuln, a swaggering bravado who instilled complete loyalty in his men. That, and the fact that all were veterans skilled in the martial arts, was what made the arch-lector’s palace guard dangerous, not their numbers, for they were little more than a hundred strong. If the captain had chosen to oppose the Disciplinati’s work that day he could not have prevented their victory, but a lot more dedicants would lie dead by nightfall. Vincenzo was glad to hear that the captain was enlightened enough to recognise, and accept, Morr’s proper and necessary supremacy.

Father Carradalio had ordered that an offer of promotion should be made, making Captain Vogel commander of the entire Reman garrison, and that he be permitted to enlarge his personal company to at least double its current size. In return, the captain was to promise not to interfere with the day’s events, nor to assist any faction or individual opposed to the Disciplinati’s coup. Vincenzo had not expected the captain to ask for anything else.

“What concession?” asked Vincenzo.

“That he and his soldiers be allowed to protect the lectors from harm. When Father Gabrielle objected, saying that agreeing to such would allow the lectors to act against us, Vogel denied that was so. He said protecting them from harm did not mean permitting their communication with the city’s nobility and other factions.”

Hidden by the shadow of his heavy hood …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control7_zpsiagisfzc.jpg)
...  Brother Vincenzo raised his eyebrows. “So the captain’s idea of protection is to keep them prisoner?” he asked.

“After a fashion. He even suggested that their ‘protection’ would increase if the lectors expressed any opposition to Father Carradalio, in this way preventing them from taking any action that might lead to their own harm.”

The mercenary obviously took his contractual vows seriously, thought Vincenzo, even if he had found a convenient way to follow them by the letter rather than by the spirit. He decided that was something to keep in mind during all future dealings with the man.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control5_zpsgnvqikkp.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 09, 2017, 12:23:28 AM
... sorry, crazily difficult to upload, chopping, waiting, editing then discovering extra attempts have appeared in between thus this bit here which had a repeated chunk in it ...
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 09, 2017, 12:25:16 AM
So far, so good, thought Vincenzo. Every report, and almost all had now come in, was of success. There had been a high cost in lives, including many a dedicant lost to the holy cause, but the city was almost wholly under Father Carradalio’s control. By midnight the task would be all but complete, so that as the Morrite lectors met the next day to cast their votes for the new arch-lector, they would surely be forced to choose Father Carradalio. To do otherwise would be to fly in the face of common sense, for Father Carradalio, Praepositus Generalis of the Disciplinati di Morr, would control the entire city. He would not be merely the strongest power in Remas, he would be the only power. Once he also had the arch-lectorship then his most holy and enlightened rule would be complete.

With luck it would happen just in the nick of time, for umpteen forces loomed outside the city walls, threatening at the least to upset the ascendancy of Morr’s true church, and at the most to destroy the city completely.  Any one of these forces could arrive, and at any hour. Captain-General Scaringella might return with the remnants of the Reman army, declaring martial law and thus his own rule …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control9_zpsrucq9skk.jpg)

… or perhaps Razger Boulderguts’ double army of ogres would outmanoeuvre the captain-general and attack first?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control10_zps6xe55puc.jpg)

It was even rumoured that the mercenary Compagnia del Sol, newly arrived from Estalia at the nearby port of Urbimo, had been contracted by Luigi Grasica and Overlord Matuzzi to seize the city for them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control11_zpsdekbd7bx.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 09, 2017, 12:29:29 AM
Worst of all, the vile and abominable, unliving army of the vampire duchess seemed again to be moving southwards.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/control12_zps7f1ep0x7.jpg)

Once Father Caradallio, guided by Morr’s spirit, was in possession of the church, city and army of Remas, his forces swelled by legions of fanatical dedicants, then decisive action could at last be taken. In the past, Remas had been too slow to respond, what with a dithering overlord and an uncertain clergy. For years, the first response to danger was to issue declarations and warnings, to plead for aid from neighbouring principalities, or to hire another company of mercenaries to sew into the realm’s mismatched, patch-work army. As Father Carradalio had preached to the throng of dedicants only the day before:

“We are the living embodiment of Morr in this world: his eyes and ears, his voice and limbs. As such we already command the citizens’ fears, for all must die and all fear what will become of them when they do. Once we take the reins of worldly power, then in time the people’s hearts and souls will belong to us too, for only those who yield unto Morr’s true church will be permitted to prosper. If Remas is to survive, if the living of Tilea are to defeat the unholy wickedness that threatens to swallow us whole, consuming both our bodies and souls, we must first annihilate all enemies of the faith, both those within the church and without, purifying the clergy, cleansing Remas, and forging a mighty army of blessed dedicants through which Morr’s mighty will can be channelled in furious anger.”

* Fratellanza di dolore giusti
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on April 09, 2017, 01:34:08 AM
Bloody awesome Padre. These models look fantastic. Feels like I'm catching stills in a movie. Keep expecting them to start talking 😺
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on April 10, 2017, 08:28:25 AM
More goodness from Padre. That vamp lady looks like she means buisness! Can't wait for more. :ph34r:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 14, 2017, 01:39:34 PM
 :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Uryens de Crux on April 18, 2017, 01:11:44 PM
Fantastic work
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Inarticulate on April 19, 2017, 12:07:42 AM
It's going to take me ages to catch up on this, but it looks excellent, as always!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 19, 2017, 12:25:17 AM
Oh it is well worth reading!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 25, 2017, 08:15:37 PM
Thanks everyone above.

I am working on a summary of recent history and the current situation, as an orientation for players and readers. The first thing I put together is this summary map of the important realms and their rulers [eidt: corrected and expanded now]...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/LittleInkMapWithInfo_zpspkptrzpn.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 30, 2017, 08:34:48 AM
Spring 2403, The Current Situation in Tilea
Background information for the readers’ orientation.

Part One: The Vampire Wars

The war in the north between the living and the undead continues. The vampire duchess Maria Colleoni controls the large realm of Miragliano and the small principality of Ebino, having wrested control of the former from her dead uncle’s lesser vampire servants, and regained possession of the latter so that she now rules it in undeath as she did when alive. Now both realms are now almost wholly bereft of human life, home only to wild beasts and the undead. The duchess’s vampire get, Lord Adolfo Appuntito of Viadaza, serves her as lieutenant, despite the fact he was chased from his city of Viadaza in the summer of 2402 by the arch-lector of Morr’s army (1). Father Biagino, once a visionary servant of Morr who served both the Viadazan Crusaders and the Reman Holy Army, mortally wounded at the Second Battle of Ebino (but still alive - just - when captured), has recently become the duchess’ vampiric servant, accepting the mantle of High Priest of the Church of Nagash (2)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/EbinoampEnvirons_zpsk4pclkos.jpg)

These are leaders of the great undead evil in the north, a threat which not one but two Morrite armies failed to defeat. The Viadazan Crusaders, mainly peasants and citizen-soldiers, killed the vampire Duke Alessandro Sforza at the Battle of Pontremola (in autumn of 2401 (3), but failed to save their own city succumbing to undeath as the recently turned Lord Adolfo and Duchess Maria raised legions of corpses, including Adolfo’s own poisoned soldiers, and took control of the city! (4) Calictus II, Arch-Lector of Morr led a massive army of Remans and mercenaries (mostly the latter) to recapture Viadaza (5), but he was killed and his army soundly defeated in late 2403 at the ‘Second’ Battle of Ebino (6) (the first Battle of Ebino being in Summer 2401 when the then-living duchess had attempted to flee the city to escape her vampiric uncle) (7).

No-one (alive) knows what the vampire duchess intends to do next, but the few people now dwelling in the recently cleansed Viadaza, and the people of Urbimo, live every day in fear. Meanwhile, Remas is in turmoil as the new arch-lector is chosen, its streets swarming with the fanatical dedicants of the Disciplinati di Morr, and with Razger Boulderguts’ massive army of plundering ogres drawing ever closer.

(1) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg959923.html#msg959923
(2) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg991178.html#msg991178
(3) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg877233.html#msg877233
(4) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg882824.html#msg882824
(5) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg962734.html#msg962734. The subsequent trial: http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg964497.html#msg964497
(6) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg987891.html#msg987891 and http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg988065.html#msg988065
(7) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg856341.html#msg856341. NB: Do not be fooled by this battle report's false ending - people thought the duchess had escaped, when in truth she had not. I had to lie, therefore, at the very end of this otherwise full and accurate account, so that my players wouldn't know what their characters couldn't know!

(Next, the Ogre Wars…)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 30, 2017, 11:13:09 PM
I like this synopsis! :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 03, 2017, 08:47:43 PM
Part Two: The Ogre Wars

(I put lots of pictures in to this, lifted from the earlier posts, but the forum cannot handle the number and so I have cut them out here and left only the two maps. Bizarrely, when I find a spelling mistake in earlier posts I cannot now edit it, because when you press post it can't handle the amount of pictures- even though they were there before!!)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RavolaampEnvirons_zpsdqz0puw5.jpg)

In IC 2388 an old man arrived at the city of Campogrotta claiming to be the Wizard Lord Niccolo Bentivoglio, returned after three decades absence to reclaim his realm. The people laughed for they knew the wizard lord had perished in the uprising of 2355. The fool had no army, no provisionati of ogres like those used by Lord Niccolo to exert his despotic rule so they chased him away. Twelve years later, to the day, in 2400, a man claiming to be the same old man, and thus the Wizard Lord, returned again, but this time he did indeed have an army of ogres. Within two days the city was his. The presumably ancient Lord Niccolo then disappeared into the ancient Bentiglovio palazzo, issuing orders but never appearing publicly, while the Ogre Tyrant Razger Boulderguts ruled as governor in his name. Needless to say, with Ogres in charge, the brutality and cruelty of the city’s fall continued long after it was taken.

Razger Boulderguts was apparently not satisfied by his command of the realm of Campogrotta, and in Spring 2401 captured the Ravolan Fortress of Terme, easily overwhelming both the forces of Sir Fromony Dalguinnac defending the walls and the knightly relief force dispatched from Ravola by Lord Giacomo Uberti. (1) The fortress was still smoking when weeks later the Ogres assaulted the city of Ravola itself, capturing the city almost as easily as he had Terme. (2) The ogres went on to burn Maratto Castle too, and then settled a garrison force upon the city and the few settlements they did not raze to the ground.

At the very end of 2401, the wizard Lord Niccolo surprised Tilea by sending a small force of ogres and men to answer the arch-lector of Morr’s call to arms to create his Holy Army for the war against the vampires. This force was met and escorted to Remas (3) and then served as part of the Holy Army in the recapture of Viadaza. (4)

While the city was subsequently being cleansed, however, news came to the Holy Army that Razger Boulderguts had marched a massive force, consisting of his own army and an almost equally large mercenary company called ‘Mangler’s Band’ (who had travelled from the Border Princes (5)) south to attack the Trantian town of Scorcio, now a part of the Pavonan lord Silvano’s realm. (6) The Pavonans in the Holy army were enraged that the Campogrottan ogres were with them in the army camp while their comrades were attacking Pavonan soldiers in the south, and so, joining with the poor, downtrodden men of Campogrotta (who had been waiting for a chance to strike at their brute masters) and assassinated every ogre in the Holy Army. There was turmoil in the army camp, and the arch-lector’s own mercenaries attempted to prevent the movement of mobs of Pavonans into the Ogres’ part of the camp. (7)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/PavonaampEnvirons_zpsuxby2o4l.jpg)

Duke Guidobaldo, never a prince for half measures, ordered that the remainder of his newly conquered realm of Trantio be razed and plundered by his own troops, while he ordered his mercenary elves, the Sharlian Riders, to ride north as fast as they could to take orders to his son in Viadaza. (8) The entire populace of Trantio was ordered to flee the city, and make their way south to the small city of Astiano. This they did (most of them) but the ogres, denied their loot, pursued them and caught up to them before the very walls of Astiano, slaughtering nearly all of them, although the Pavonan soldiers did escape the same fate for they made sure they were the first through the gate into the safety of the city! (9) The tyrant Razger’s ogres were not satisfied with the loot (and human fleshmeat) they had taken from the refugees, and so they assaulted the city, captured it and razed it. Waiting a while for Mangler’s Band to catch up with them (who had been busy looting a different part of Trantio) the brute ‘double army’ then marched into the realm of Pavona. Duke Guidobaldo once again ordered the stripping of some of his own settlements, and drew his army into the city, hoping the ogres would throw themselves against its mighty walls, for although he had insufficient forces to face the double army in the field of battle, he believed he had ample with which to defend the walls. (10)

Duke Guidobaldo destroyed the bridge at Casoli, to save his town of Scozzesse, but could only watch as the double army circumnavigated his city, razing all the settlements apart from his city. The double army then marched away from the city (11) towards the realm of Remas!

(1) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg838893.html#msg838893
(2) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg849071.html#msg849071
(3) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg913551.html#msg913551
(4) http://www.vampirecounts.net/threads/photo-story-battle-report-assault-on-viadaza.29588/
(5) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg937857.html#msg937857
(6) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg962116.html#msg962116
(7) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg962734.html#msg962734
(8) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg970935.html#msg970935
(9) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg971453.html#msg971453
(10) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg983116.html#msg983116
(11) http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php/topic,46787.msg998554.html#msg998554

Next, the Pavonan Wars
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 05, 2017, 10:18:56 AM
Are these maps of your own making? They're looking great! :ph34r:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 21, 2017, 07:27:45 PM
They are my own drawing, but were fashioned from perusing various existing maps of Tilea. Here's the next piece, prequel to a very large battle. Again, due to picture posting difficulties I am going to chop it up. I will probably have to merely put a link to the battle report when it is completed as it is likely to include something like 40 pictures and would involve vast amounts of time chopping up and posting (it takes about 3 minutes for each piece with 3 pictures to load). But a link will take you to other forums with the full report.
................................................................

The Battle of the Via Diocleta: Prequel

Duke Scaringella and his Reman army marched in the van, as was proper now they were moving through their own territory. The whole force, Pavonans included, was comprised mostly of foot soldiers, along with baggage and a large artillery train, which one might presume would critically limit their speed, ruining their chances of successfully catching the brute foe ahead. This was not so, however, as both armies were pushing  themselves hard – the Pavonans keen to exact revenge for the multitude of insults done to them and theirs by Razger Boulderguts’ ogres, and the Remans desperate to ensure their own realm would not suffer a similar fate. Every effort had been made to ensure a good pace, including assigning the Pavonan’s large pistolier regiment to assist the artillery’s passage in every way they could. Although their poor horses would doubtless be in no fit state to fight when it came to battle, the brute foe would be subjected to battery by a storm of iron round-shot rather than the paltry peppering of leaden pistol balls.

Towards the rear of the Reman column rode the newly elected arch-lector of Morr, Bernado Ugolini. He was accompanied by several servants, a handful of guards and clergy, including his Estalian secretary Duarte, followed by a cart carrying his personal baggage and a small body of Reman militiamen who had recently become noticeably more conscientious in their duties, now that they were accompanying not merely the Lector of Viadaza, but rather the holy father of the Church of Morr.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel1_zpsusdj0ybf.jpg)

The Reman cross-keyed standard was carried before Bernado, while off to his side marched a column of iron-clad dwarfen mercenaries who also sported the crossed keys, painted on their shields. They had served in the miscellaneously mercenary Reman army for more than a decade, along with regiments of Cathayans, Empire soldiers and even some elves.

In truth, Bernado would much prefer to be riding northwards directly to Remas, not chasing ogres to the south. The city and the holy church of Morr were in turmoil, since before his election to the arch-lectorship, and even more-so now. As the church’s chosen ruler, he should be there to guide his flock, heal the divisions tearing the Morrite clergy apart and ensure Morr’s protective presence. Duarte and his all his other advisers agreed, however, that the situation was now so bad there was little he could do without an army to back him, which meant travelling wherever the Captain General, Duke Scaringella and his army went. When he finally returned, not only did he need to be with them, but also to be one of them.

While the arch-lector Calictus II had died at Ebino fighting against the vampire duchess, Duke Scaringella had been leading a small army eastwards to join with Pavonan forces and defeat Razger Boulderguts’ double army of ogres before they reached Remas. At the ruinous city of Astiano the duke had rendezvoused with the joint force of Remans and Pavonans sent away from the ‘Holy Army’ by the arch-lector a little while before his disastrous defeat. (This was the force Bernado had himself commanded as it marched south.) Then, knowing he still had insufficient forces to fight the ogres, the duke had waited, allowing Boulderguts’ army to swing around the north of the city, travelling east to west. He was gambling that as the ogres had already razed Astiano they would have little interest in doing battle there again, this time with no prospect of plunder, whilst praying that the main Pavonan army would reach him in time before the ogres tore Remas apart.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequelMap_zpstxovwr0u.jpg)

It was a big risk, which nearly every one of the duke’s officers advised against (even if they could not agree what alternative action should be taken). His inactivity meant the very force he had been sent to stop had got between him and what he was meant to be protecting! Luckily, just as news came that already the town of Stiani had been razed to the ground, and it looked like the entire realm might soon be destroyed, Duke Guidobaldo Gondi arrived at the head of the main Pavonan army. It was a force bigger than Scaringella’s, made bigger still when the Pavonans who had come south from Viadaza rejoined their comrades. Not only them, but several days later the duke’s only surviving son, Lord Silvano, one of the very few who had escaped the terrible defeat at Ebino, arrived to be reunited with his father.

Then, in an even more welcome (and entirely unexpected) development, the army’s scouts reported that for reasons known only to the ogres, the tyrant Razger Boulderguts and his mercenary ally Mangler had turned southwards rather than striking towards Remas, where the real wealth lay. Had they overestimated the forces defending Remas’ mighty walls? Were they making for the coast and awaiting ships? Was the sudden change of direction part of a secret agreement with the vampire duchess? Or were they merely taking a detour? Whatever the reason, the allied army now had a chance to do battle with the ogres before they wreaked any further destruction upon the realm.



Other than the clattering of their layers of steel armour, the dwarfs marched in silence. They were armed with strangely short spears, of a sort that could be used as a blade like a short sword, but were better at thrusting out between the interlocked iron of a shield-wall. The dwarfs had become a common sight on the streets of Remas, and since their incorporation into the city’s standing army, the dwarfen quarter had swelled considerably in size. There had been mutterings in the army that the dwarfs were surely not happy to be allied with a Pavonan army, what with Duke Guidobaldo’s exulsion of every dwarf in his realm two years ago. The dwarfs themselves, however, had apparently said nothing concerning the matter to anyone else. Bernado suspected that rather than anger, it was mirth they were concealing – being secretly satisfied at the Pavonan soldiery’s discomfort. If the Pavonans disliked merely camping and marching beside dwarfs, then what did they make of the prospect of relying on them in battle? Perhaps the dwarfs intended to shame the Pavonans with their sturdy prowess and hardy discipline upon the field of battle?

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel3_zpscwnxnjac.jpg)

It was late in the afternoon, which on any other march would mean the army should be halting soon. Not this army though. If the last four days were anything to go by, they would march until it grew properly dark. Ogre legs were longer than men’s.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 21, 2017, 07:31:38 PM
Despite being distracted by the discomfort of riding a mule (the traditional mount for a lector), and worrying about the forthcoming battle, Bernado had been attempting to think clearly about the situation in Remas, to decide what his best course of action would be. He had learned of his election only two days ago, the news being delivered by a lowly, but respected and trusted priest named Benvenuto, who had killed his horse in his haste to bring the news. Benvenuto also described the recent violent events in the city. Since then, due to the consequences of the civil unrest, the speed of the march and the fact that the army of ogres burning a path through the realm killed (and ate) just about everyone they encountered, he had learned nothing more. Then again, what he already knew was enough to fill him with concerns.

“Brother Duarte,” he asked the young cleric riding beside him. “Do you think Father Carradalio will harm the overlord?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel6_zpswz0cgs6f.jpg)

As usual, Duarte did not answer immediately. He was a careful, disciplined thinker, of a philosophical bent, and not one to rush to answer even when asked by the arch-lector himself.

“It seems to me most likely, your Holiness, that Father Carradalio was furious at not being elected, especially when he had already acted as if he were arch-lector. He’d played his hand in seizing the city, blood had flowed in every street. Without the legitimization of election, he is no more than a heretical revolutionary, and his Disciplinati become wild rebels overthrowing the rightful order instead of the city’s saviours. Until the election, all had gone well for him, the result of his planning and preparation. Now, however, he has been forced to think on his feet, to act more rashly. He has gone so far it is too late to retreat, and this makes him desperate. If he could have taken you hostage, your Holiness, then I think he would have done so. Instead he took Overlord Matuzzi, the next best thing. Perhaps even better? But I do not think he would harm the overlord, not now his fury has had time to abate. He needs Lord Matuzzi. He needs his authority, so that he can rule the realm by decree as well as by force and fear. That will make him harder to displace.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel8_zpsdma0hlcg.jpg)

Bernado had already been thinking along similar lines. Overlord Matuzzi had handed over the reins of secular power to Calictus II, Bernado’s predecessor, making him ruler of both church and state. Until the election, the big debate had been whether or not the new arch-lector would automatically inherit that secular authority. Now, however, a third player had entered game.

“No doubt,” asked Bernado, “Carradalio intends to persuade the overlord to yield authority to him?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel7_zpsdvxw2hxj.jpg)

“I believe so, your Holiness. He already has the city. He already has nearly all the lower clergy. The people’s fear of the vampires in the north means he already has the citizens’ hopes. With the overlord’s authority, he will have no need of the arch-lectorship.”

“He would have made me into a ceremonial puppet while he wielded all the real power,” said Bernado.

Although perhaps, he thought to himself, a demagogue like Carradalio and his fanatical Disciplinati were exactly what Remas needs? He had seen so many flee from the undead at Pontremola, and knew full well the final victory had been because of General D’Alessio’s bravery and skill alone. Yet only last night he had heard young Lord Silvano telling of the battle at Ebino - how the flagellants had plunged deep into the enemy’s line and died fighting to a man despite the many monstrous horrors in the duchess’s army, and regardless of the everyone else’s flight. What could a whole army of fanatics do? Perhaps such warriors were Tilea’s only real chance against the vampires? He missed the council of Father Biagino, a man who had both the gift of prophecy and a mind sharp enough never to make ill-thought or hasty assumptions. When he had asked Lord Silvano about Biagino’s fate in the battle at Ebino, the young noble simply said he never saw nor heard of the priest since that day, and so thought it most likely he perished amongst the multitude.

“Are you well, your Holiness?” asked Duarte, concerned at Bernado’s posture, his frown obscured by his hand clutching at his temples. The arch-lector had been so deep in thought he had not realised what he was doing.

“Yes, brother. Long days, that is all. Pray thee, we shall stop a moment.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 21, 2017, 07:36:33 PM
Durate gave the command, and those fore and aft of the arch-lector came to a halt.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel2_zps40wbjsz4.jpg)

The column of dwarfs continued its march, while Bernado turned his mule to face the two priests on foot behind, and Brother Duarte followed suit.

“Father Benvenuto,” said the arch-lector. “Do you know why the lectors voted for me?”

“I would not presume to say, your holiness,” answered the priest. “Apart from to accept that whatever their reasons, it was ultimately Morr’s will that you become so.”

Benvenuto wore a grey, hooded cloak, and despite his sturdily built frame, leaned ponderously, bent-backed, upon a staff. The heavy, leather bags hanging at his waist were at least partially to blame, but he would not allow them to be put onto the cart. When the priest had reached in to withdraw the letters he was carrying, Bernado had seen weighty tomes inside, dark leather embossed with gold leaf. Holy books, or perhaps ledgers of some kind? Bernado assumed he would discover the truth should Father Benvenuto feel the need to employ them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel5_zpsvfbjmdob.jpg)

“Morr’s will, yes. And I pray I shall live up to his expectations,” said Bernado. “But still, presently we abide in the world of mortals and it is men I must measure, not the majesty of Morr. So, Father, if you had to hazard a guess, what would you say was their motive.”

“Fear, your holiness. They are afraid of Father Carradalio and his fanatics.”

“If so, then why choose me in particular?” said Bernado. “Surely there are several lectors in Remas just as capable of putting Carradalio in his place?”

“Maybe so my lord,” agreed the old priest. “But they also fear the vampires. You are the only one amongst them who has met the undead armies in battle. You guided the Viadazan crusaders to their victory at Pontremola …”

“Yet Viadaza, my own see, was lost that very same week,” interrupted Bernado. He felt no joy at the irony.

But Father Benvenuto had not finished. “And then, your holiness, you were by Calictus’s side when Viadaza was retaken and cleansed. You were part of not one but two great victories. In the first he vampire duke died, and in the second you chased Lord Adelfo from the city. The lectors want a proven soldier of Morr leading the church and Remas in the great fight, not an untried rabble rouser like Carradalio.”

“That may be so. Yet Viadaza has most likely fallen once more, this time for good, which would have made me the lector of nowhere.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel9_zpsnf4dork4.jpg)

“By your leave, your holiness,” said Duarte. “The lectors may well have been counting on its fall. If Viadaza is lost, then there would be nothing to distract you from defending Remas. I have heard them whisper that Calictus erred in dividing our forces to march north himself, there to be defeated. When he finally fought, half his army were Arabyan mercenaries who barely knew of Morr. They weren’t even under contract to Remas, and fled the field before the battle was decided. Now Stiani has burned because Captain-General Duke Scaringella was left with far too small an army to stop the ogres.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 21, 2017, 07:39:43 PM
“If I might speak, your holiness?” asked Brother Marsilio, the grey robed monk who had accompanied Father Benvenuto from Remas. “The lectors knew you were with the captain general. Once the brute’s double army is defeated, then both you and he will be returning victorious with an army. How could Carradalio’s screeching sermons compete with the commands of Morr’s anointed pontiff? How could his crazed followers stand against a real army?”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel4_zpse9d4y3zf.jpg)

Ah, thought Bernado, but what sort of army will we return with? If we are badly mauled in this coming battle, there might be merely the battered rump of an army left. And even if sufficient force survived to contend with the Disciplinati’s fanatics, would Duke Scaringella do the right thing and restore order?

When he spoke again, he hid all sign of these doubts from his voice. “After you delivered your news to me, Father Benvenuto, you spoke at length with our Captain General, yes?”

“I did, your holiness,” the priest answered.

“I take it he questioned you concerning Remas?” inquired Bernado.

“At length, your holiness. And kept me there when he spoke to his officers, that I might answer whatever else he and they thought to ask. I was given to understand that I must not speak of what I had heard.”

Although Bernado had seen Duke Scaringella since then, when both he and Duke Guidobaldo came to receive an official blessing from their new arch-lector, he had not yet had the opportunity to speak with him privately. He doubted the duke would want to discuss the precarious state of Reman affairs in the Pavonans’ presence, especially in light of the as yet unexplained delay – lasting the best part of a day - which occurred the previous week.

Scaringella had at the time confided to Bernado his suspicion that the Pavonans did not actually intend to fight the ogres and were considering some other action instead. Perhaps the captain general had the measure of Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona? Yet he also admitted he could not fathom why Guidobaldo would consider allowing those who had injured him so badly to escape. Fearing his dangerous gamble had failed, Scaringella had knelt to pray with Bernado for Remas, pleading with Morr not to allow it to suffer at the hands of brutes when the most holy work of destroying the vampires was yet to be done. That evening, however, Duke Guidobaldo called a council of war, giving no explanation for the delay, and declared that they would pursue the enemy immediately as if nothing strange had happened. Although Duke Scaringella accepted Guidobaldo had the larger force and so was due the precedence, he was neither asked nor offered to swear obedience to Duke Guidobaldo, being himself was of equal noble rank and a captain-general (which suited him well in light of his distrust). Instead, he simply offered to fight at Duke Guidobaldo’s side, promising to cooperate fully upon the field of battle, doing his utmost to contribute to victory. The matter of dividing the spoils was not discussed for the chase was on and there was no (more) time to waste. Most of the soldiers seemed to presume that as most of the plunder came from Pavonan settlements, then the Pavonans would expect the lion’s share. 

Considering Duke Scaringella’s religiosity and humble acceptance of spiritual authority, Bernado had every reason to think Scaringella’s command concerning Father Benvenuto’s silence was more to prevent the Pavonans learning of his concerns. In light of this, he made the Morrite sign, and spoke,

“I hereby absolve you of any promise you made to keep silent. As your pontiff, I command that you answer me.”

Father Benvenuto nodded his acceptance.

“Did Lord Scaringella voice his opinion concerning Father Carradalio and his dedicants?” Bernado asked.

“He spoke of little else, your holiness, and was in quite a dilemma. He must defend Remas, of course, either by destroying the ogres or chasing them away. His victory must be glorious, so he can return to Remas as a hero, winning the citizens’ favour. He must earn a good portion of the loot so that he can feed and pay the army; and he must prove to be so effective on the field of battle that the Pavonan duke is grateful, becoming an important ally during the struggle ahead. Yet he must do all these things without suffering crippling losses, for he will need the army to put the Disciplinati di Morr back in their place upon your return to Remas.”

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/RoadBattlePrequel10_zpsjfak6mju.jpg)

“More than that,” Duarte added, “we need the army to fight the vampires.”

Ogres, fanatics and the undead, thought Bernado. Three wars to be fought.

“Brethren,” he said, “let us contend with one thing at a time. Tonight, we shall pray for victory against the brutes.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 23, 2017, 04:31:17 PM
The Battle of the Via Diocleta (Spring 2403)

Passing hurriedly through the villages of Frascoti, south of the great city of Remas, and having insufficient time to loot and raze as they went, the double army of ogres serving Razger Boulderguts were continuing southwards along the ancient Via Diocleta. All of Remas would have breathed a sigh of relief, were not for the fact that the city was internally tangled in turmoil as the fanatical Disciplinati di Morr wrested control of its streets and gates one by one, and the citizens were distracted by the looming prospect of a vampire led army descending upon them to do worse than even the ogres would have done.

Razger's brute warriors were moving as fast as they could, which was not exactly quickly. Their vast, heavily laden baggage train was overflowing with loot and hauled by a chaotically cobbled together collection of ogres, slaves, horses and oxen - the latter three dwindling on a daily basis as they were eaten by their ravenous masters. They were being pursued by a similarly slow force, the allied armies of Remas and Pavona, who were struggling with several large artillery pieces rather than wagons of plunder.

The Tileans, keen to exact revenge for the destruction of Pavona, and to prevent the same fate befalling Remas, were pushing themselves to the limit. The ogres were working hard, but not so much as the men, for they were unafraid of meeting their pursuers in battle, merely annoyed at the prospect that if they were not careful their loot might be lost. So it was that the allied army drew slowly and surely closer, crossing the rolling landscape from the town of Stiani towards the road without passing through Frascoti, and in this way aiming to intercept the foe long before they reached the realm of Ridraffa.

They would meet in a barren place, home only to scattered shepherds and their flocks. The ogres, recognising at last that they were not going to outpace the Tileans, left the road to form an uncharacteristically carefully arrayed line to the west of the road, while the allied Tilean armies chose to draw themselves up for battle upon the road itself.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle1_zpshxqlizvn.jpg~original)

The tyrant Razger’s army, consisting of both his own brutes and the mercenary Mangler’s ‘band’, presented a formidable line indeed. Warriors from both armies were intermixed, but Mangler’s brutes were mostly concentrated towards the centre of the line, while Razger’s forces made up the flanks.

On the far right was a little mob of gnoblar trappers, scurrying alongside a brace of Mournfang riders. Between these and the main fighting force were two companies of leadbelchers, and a large mob of Mangler’s gnoblars. (Game note: The player was annoyed with me later on as I had helped him place his force and he had assumed I had placed these 40 gnoblars in a horde formation. I’m sorry to say that was the last thing on my mind, and I just went with what was aesthetically pleasing, and happened to fit neatly on the card. Sorry, Jamie!(

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle2_zpsfts1fm6q.jpg~original)

In the centre of the line were several bodies of bulls and ironguts, interspaced with rhinox-mounted war engines, behind which was the massive baggage train. On the far left were Razger’s Maneaters, Mangler’s Hunter with his brace of sabretusks, as well as two small bodies of leadbelchers and ironguts. Mangler led his own bodyguard of ironguts, clutching his massive, double handed cleaver and clad in layer upon layer of iron scales.
 
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle3_zpsccmsrfns.jpg~original)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 23, 2017, 04:35:03 PM
Razger had joined the biggest of his two bands of bulls, along with his army standard bearer carrying an emblem of the bloody sword and half-moon. His gut-plate tusks marked him out, although the sheer bulk of his presence would suffice to do so even without them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle4_zpsszw6fcwt.jpg)

The Tilean alliance force was not so evenly split as the ogres, as Duke Guidobaldo’s Pavonan army made up much more than half the total strength. Nearly every unit to the right and in the centre of the line was Pavonan, and there were more of his troops, including his son, on the far left. On the farmost right rode the only body of horse in the army, being the plate-armoured nobility led by Visconte Carjaval. Behind them was the as yet untested helstorm, a bizarre engine designed to throw a clutch of explosive rockets at the enemy which Duke Guidobaldo had bought from a Nuln merchant in somewhat happier times. From there towards the centre were a succession of foot regiments, being halberdiers and handgunners, although for some reason Duke Scaringella had seen fit to order his Cathayan crossbowmen over to that flank, where they lurked in rear of the line.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle5_zpsnhyfwefa.jpg)

The centre of the allied line consisted of three large bodies of swordsmen, being Pavonans or Asitianans, the latter now wholly incorporated into the Duke’s army and just as loyal to him as his native soldiers. Interspersed between these were four great cannons, two of which tended by engineers.  Duke Guidobaldo himself watched from the rear, being the only Pavonan sporting colours other than blue and white.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle6_zpsi5kpainm.jpg)

Most of Scaringella’s Reman army was arrayed upon the left. All were mercenary soldiers under virtually permanent contract, apart from a handful of native Remans. A large body of Dwarfen warriors formed the force’s main strength, behind which was the army's famous regiment of Cathayan halberdiers. The Reman's only piece of artillery separated these melee troops from the two regiments of crossbow troops, being body of Tilean condottieri (behind pavises) and more dwarfs. The army’s baggage was clustered behind these two regiments, beside which lingered the bravi skirmishers pressed from the Reman streets . Young Lord Silvano Gondi, Guidobaldo’s lone surviving heir, having come all the way south from the terrible defeat at Ebino with the last of his elven ‘Sharlian’ riders rode on the far left, while a company of Pavonan huntsmen had moved up to conceal themselves behind the rocky hill between them and the foe.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 23, 2017, 04:42:01 PM
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle7_zpsxlppjpmi.jpg)

As the last of the troops stepped into place, both armies came to a momentary halt, and an eerie (almost) silence descended upon the alliance army, broken only by the fluttering of flags and the occasional “Stand straight in your ranks and files” or “Watch your dressings!” from the officers. The engineers gave final instructions regarding the elevation of the gun barrels …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle8_zpspnyt5ytp.jpg)

… while Visconte Carjaval and his armoured knights struggled to restrain their destriers whilst adjusting shields, lances and helms.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle9_zpseir1wudj.jpg)

Everyone knew that soon all hell would break loose!

Battle to follow asap
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 24, 2017, 01:20:47 PM
Looks like it will be a fun one. :ph34r:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 25, 2017, 09:42:00 PM
The Battle Begins

The first to move were the gnoblars on the far flank, scurrying up behind the hill, barely noticed by either ogres or men.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle10_zpswneflsbp.jpg)

What caught the Pavonan soldiery’s eyes was the lonely advance of the Hunter and his two beasts to the left of the centre. He strode boldly as they loped proudly, neither he nor they appearing even slightly concerned at the profusion of barrels, both big and small, in front of them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle11_zpsmkn2yntm.jpg)

Perhaps refusing to be out-done by the hunter, the little company of maneaters also chose to close on the foe, leaving the rest of Razger’s battle line behind.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle12_zpszwmytaos.jpg)

(Game Note: The Tilean players had failed to get their desperately needed and much prayed for first turn. Even as an impartial GM I voiced my concern that this could be the beginning of the end despite being only the beginning of the beginning!)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 25, 2017, 09:50:23 PM
Moments later, the rest of the brute army marched on, the three main bodies of ogres outpacing the lumbering, war-machine bearing beasts between them, while the smaller body of bulls on their left began to angle away a little, as if to follow the maneaters.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle14_zpsh4biq8y2.jpg)

Mangler’s Butcher, Scabgash, marching front and centre of the largest body of bulls, now unleashed a powerful curse at the crew of the cannon before him, killing every one of them instantly, magically crushing their bones from the inside! (Game Note: 9 hits killed the cannon) As the report of this rippled through the regiment directly on the cannon’s right side, the despairing words met the same report coming from the other side, for the huge ironblaster had fired a roundshot more than twice as heavy as those employed by the Tileans’ pieces, over Razger’s head and right into another cannon, tearing it to pieces. It lay unrecognisable afterwards, with no sign of the crewmen who had been tending it only a moment before.

(Game Note: Insult to injury – the artillery heavy army, carefully selected to fight these ogres, had not only failed to get the first turn, but had already lost nearly half its cannons!)

The Pavonans could barely believe what had happened. Men and horses had put themselves through hell to haul those guns from Pavona, with several many perishing along the way from accidents or exhaustion. And yet here, before they had even fired once in anger, two had been destroyed. Still, this gloomy thought was soon lost, for the somewhat distracting sight of the advancing brute army dislodged it from most men’s minds!

The two bodies of leadbelchers came up on the right, their flank (unnecessarily) secured by the gnoblars, and also fired, but this time to no noticeable effect, apart from the terrifying thunderous roar, flash and smoke they caused.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle13_zpspa6ugtjc.jpg)

Even now, with the ogres closing fast, the vast allied army seemed unready. Every man who could see the foe (and the army was so big there were many who had yet even to glimpse them) craved to see at least some ogres brought down before contact was made. Surely with this many artillery pieces, handguns, crossbows and even rockets, the enemy would at least be bloodied before the inevitable mayhem began? There was even confusion at the rear of the battle line, where the manifold roar of the enemy’s guns had several men arguing whether or not it was their own guns or the foe’s they had heard. One fellow even pushed a comrade to the ground for the insane suggestion that their own guns had yet to fire!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle15_zpsrnksqqro.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 25, 2017, 09:53:36 PM
All Duke Guidobaldo could do was give the command “Steady!” He himself was behind his band of Astianan Swordsmen – the brigand scum who had flocked to serve the victor’s army even as their city was being plundered by his Pavonan troops. He noted with a little satisfaction that the two cannons in front of him were just about to shoot.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle16_zpshgxifnfb.jpg)

The arch-lector was also behind an artillery piece. His own words were more numerous and quieter, taking the form of a prayer, which he made in preparation for the prayers to come. They would not be so quiet, or at least their effect would not be, for they would invite the great god Morr to vent his wrath upon the enemy.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle17_zpsp9gjmxdf.jpg)

(Next, the allies first turn…)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 26, 2017, 02:54:57 PM
At last, and the wait had seemed as long as it was terrible, the drums began to beat and the horns were sounded. The armies of Pavona and Remas were ready to act.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle18_zpsys3d9kt2.jpg)

Knowing that they had been caught off-guard by the ogres sudden lurch forwards, and thus failed to deliver the barrage of shot they had fervently hoped for, they did not hold back now. Captain Ettore led the largest of the Pavonan halberdiers’ regiment in a charge against the maneaters, mainly because he was unwilling to be the recipient of their inevitable charge.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle19_zpso2niufxp.jpg)

Three of his soldiers died from the Maneaters’ massive pistols, followed by nine more when they made contact, all to very little observable effect against the thick-skinned brutes. But they had stopped the ogres’ advance and then they somehow held their ground to fight on. On the far right the Visconte Carjaval and his mounted men at arms smashed into the ironguts before them …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle20_zps3rh3dhw7.jpg)

… killing two and wounding another. Not one knight had perished in the assault. The brutes turned and fled, while the visconte ordered his men to restrain their pursuit and reform to face the main body of the foe.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 26, 2017, 02:59:23 PM
The Reman dwarfs, garbed in iron and steel from head to toe, marched in very fine order out from the battle line, wheeling a little to face the foe’s main regiments in the centre. This allowed the Cathayan’s behind them to march up and fill the gap so created.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle21_zpsujdrkat4.jpg)

The Pavonan huntsmen moved boldly over the rocky hill towards the lines of still-smoking leadbelchers …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle22_zpskns1b9bl.jpg)

… while on the other side of the hill young Lord Silvano led his last surviving Sharlian Riders (elven mercenaries) in a charge against the gnoblar trappers. The young lord was bloodied by one of the vicious traps the greenskins lobbed onto the ground before them. Half the gnoblars died in this assault, and the other half fled in panic only to be cut down by the riders pursuing them. Silvano’s pursuit took him and his riders right into the two monstrously large mournfang cavalry who were lumbering up that flank.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle23_zpsf2sfwma2.jpg)

As the Pavonan halberdiers struggled to hold their viciously strong and battle hardened opponents … 

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle24_zpsrhjax7ea.jpg)

… the Morrite priest began their prayers in earnest, first cursing the flesh of one of the leadbelcher companies on the enemy’s right, then employing an amulet of coal to kill one of them. An iron round-shot plunged deep into the flesh of the rhinox carrying the ironblaster, and yet the beast still lived! Another round-shot felled one of Mangler’s bulls, but the third cannon and the Helstorm were unable to fire, most likely due to a combination of fear and overhaste on the part of crewmen.  Two thunderous volleys from the Pavonan handgunners brought down a brace of leadbelchers, while the Cathayan crossbow wounded another. On the other flank of the army, the Reman crossbow also felled a leadbelcher and sent the rest of them running!

Thus it was that using less than half the pieces that they had arrived on the field with they had managed to kill four ogres, wound several others, and even send some running. Captain General Duke Scaringella cursed angrily, furious that they had been unready to let loose with the full complement of artillery sooner.

(Game Note: What a first turn it could have been if all the artillery had fired, followed by a second turn with the same, as well as 54 crossbow and 32 handgunners!)

Next, turn 2 …
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 27, 2017, 01:14:29 AM
Thanks everyone above.

I am working on a summary of recent history and the current situation, as an orientation for players and readers. The first thing I put together is this summary map of the important realms and their rulers [eidt: corrected and expanded now]...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/LittleInkMapWithInfo_zpspkptrzpn.jpg)
Excellent and helpful! :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 27, 2017, 06:26:02 PM
I'm glad it helps, GP. Probably helps my players too, if they look at it!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Turn 2)

At almost the same moment, all the ogres who had turned to run now came to a halt and re-ordered themselves to re-join the line. Those leadbelchers on the right who had not run away now charged the huntsmen …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle25_zpsydvaf40o.jpg)

… while in the centre of the field a veritable avalanche of charges were made. Even the gnoblars joined in!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle27_zpskzkkzjqw.jpg)

As the gnob-mob hurled themselves, somewhat ambitiously, at the dwarfs, Mangler led his ironguts with rather more assurance of success into the Astianan swordsmen.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle30_zpslrcwpy5j.jpg)

The fury of the fight was a horror to behold as a dozen men were fatally crushed or torn apart barely drawing blood from the ogres. Those that survived fled away, pell-mell, so panicked that it took them some considerable time to notice that they were not pursued, and so broken that they never reformed. Thus, the last Astianan soldiers of any kind, being those serving their conqueror Duke Guidobaldo, were scattered. Their town lay in lamentable ruins, their people decimated and thrown across Tilea, and their soldiers lost forever.

The Butcher Scabgash and Mangler’s army standard bearer led a dozen bulls into Captain Augusto’s swordsmen …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle33_zps4u4eihdn.jpg)

… killing nine men with the sheer impact of their charge alone!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 27, 2017, 06:53:35 PM
Although Augusto managed to gouge the flesh of the enemy’s standard bearer …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle29_zps5inwmagm.jpg)

… another half a dozen swordsmen were hacked in twain by the ogres’ massive blades. Like their Astianan comrades, they too fled, but unluckily for them the brute foe chose to run them down. Within moments there was not a man alive and the bulls found themselves stalled by the tiny obstacle of a Pavonan engineer, caught as he ran from the smoking ruins of one gun in order to reach another.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle35_zpsuidgxmhv.jpg)

Razger led his own bulls into the flank of the halberdiers who had somehow halted the maneaters.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle28_zpsbrtsy45f.jpg)

Although another maneater was slain by halberd blades, all but three of the Pavonans lay dead and dying. As these three turned to run, the maneaters halted to allow their leader the privilege of pursuit. Not that Razger went very far, yet nevertheless another Pavonan regiment had been wiped out.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle34_zpsq9brzzga.jpg)


Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 27, 2017, 07:10:51 PM
The last two ironguts on the ogres far left watched in confusion as the hunter stumbled and his beasts halted, thus failing to reach the foe.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle26_zpsfha4rnup.jpg)

Perhaps this was due to the hail of scrap that landed on top of them? The gnoblars on the scraplauncher had aimed rather badly. They had no idea, however, as none were paying attention to where the shot had fallen, but rather busied themselves in unusual efficiency in preparation for their next shot.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle32_zpstuv1zvbm.jpg)

Ahead of the scraplauncher, the ironblaster had turned to present its muzzle at the mounted nobility on the Pavonan’s far right. The monstrous shot carried two knights – and their horses - away with it!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle31_zpsb3yx8von.jpg)

As the Pavonan knights struggled to comprehend what had just happened, another of them fell mortally injured from the leadbelchers’ hail that moments later clattered at them. Visconte Carjaval cursed loudly, but although his men were dismayed, they were not yet broken, and awaited the visconte’s command.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 27, 2017, 07:13:20 PM
Killing only one dwarf, but losing five of their own number, the gnoblars nevertheless stood their ground, pinning the dwarfs and preventing their chance to flank any ogres.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle36_zpsjjli2dl1.jpg)

Young lord Silvano and his elven guard (the Sharlian Riders), whose own momentum had carried them into the mournfangs, now struggled to master their mounts’ fear at the stench and size of their massive foe (Game Note: Failed fear test, so only WS1)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle37_zpschbdxfqj.jpg)

… and as a consequence not one solid blow was laid upon the enemy. When all four elves then perished in a most bloody and horrible manner, Silvano (who had fought far more terrible foes at Ebino) recognised his situation was impossible, and so yanked at his reins in an attempt to escape. His horse turned and even managed a few steps, but was then gorged from behind by the mournfang’s huge tusks and hurled into the air. Silvano hit the ground hard, his own horse landing upon him. Barely noticing, the mournfang riders simply urged their beasts onwards, over the riders’ mangled remains.

Next, the Tilean Allies turn 2 …
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 29, 2017, 11:27:52 AM
Well that looked painful for the knights! Scraplaunchers do hurt! :ph34r:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 29, 2017, 05:38:04 PM
There were now a lot of Ogres massed on the left of their line, admittedly in a somewhat higgledy-piggledy fashion. Facing them were a much greater number of Pavonan soldiers, mostly handgunners, but ogres count for a lot more than one man.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle38_zpskwgh1byz.jpg)

While the handgunners readied their pieces for a volley at close range, the halberdiers charged at Habbdok the Hunter and his hounds, and Visconte Carjaval and his mounted nobility attempted to reach the brace of lead-belchers upon the slope of the hill. The foot-soldiers successfully closed with the enemy, but the knights failed because the lead-belchers chose, quite sensibly, to flee.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle39_zps8lszaw38.jpg)

The Pavonan gunners manning the piece on the left of their own line frantically dragged their charge backwards, so that the Cathayan halberdiers could close upon Mangler and his Ironguts, so preventing the ogres from attacking the dwarfs’ flank. Captain General Duke Scaringella joined them, steeling himself for the fight of his life, indeed a fight for his life.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle40_zpszwh6pkef.jpg)

The Morrite priests’ prayers sadly failed to cause any harm, but the allies had much more mundane means of doing so and brought them to bear. The dismounted pistoliers now strode boldly forwards, weapons cocked in each hand, to fire their pistols at Razger Boulderguts and his bulls …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle41_zpszoywnkol.jpg)

… killing two ogres. Both the nearby regiments of handgunners joined the effort, but their powder was apparently inferior, for they could not even bring down one ogre. They merely bloodied the foe.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 29, 2017, 05:42:53 PM
At the same moment, however, an iron round-shot slammed messily through three ogres in the rear of Razger’s other unit of bulls, killing all of them, and a lucky shot from the Pavonan engineer’s Hochland rifle also brought down one of the fleeing lead-belchers.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle42_zpsxqdbzosk.jpg)

As the smoke cleared the Pavonans were nevertheless dismayed, recognising that although they had hurt the foe, there were still too many remaining. The halberdiers fighting Habbdok did manage to kill one of his beasts, but at such a heavy cost to themselves – half a dozen dead – that they lost heart, broke and ran. The roar of the last sabretusk, conjoined with smell of spattered blood, spooked the knights’ horses so much that the visconte and his  guard were forced to yield and allow them to bolt, otherwise they would have been thrown. Thus they found themselves, at the very moment they had hoped to deliver a coup de grace to one of the battered bodies of bulls before them, instead fleeing from the fight! Habbdok and his last beast pursued the fleeing halberdiers, only halting when they hit the dismounted pistoliers.

On the far side of the field, the tide was turning in the allies’ favour. Scaringella’s cannon felled a Mournfang and sent the other fleeing from the field, which made that flank look a lot less threatening. Apart from one or two lead-belchers staggering about under the weight of their oversized burdens, there was little left of the foe. The Remans drew hope from the sight. Better yet, the dwarfs finally sent the gnoblars running, then coolly and with great discipline, reformed to face Mangler and his ironguts.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle43_zpshfpr1kkv.jpg)

For the first time that day, the allies were squaring up for a fight that they looked like they might win!

Next, the final turns…
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 30, 2017, 09:52:41 PM
(The final turns)

Like any ogre, Mangler would not wait for the enemy to charge. He led his warriors headlong into the Cathayan halberdiers beside the dwarfs. He did not ponder the options, knowing in his gut they were the softer of the two possibilities - their relatively thin and less well-armoured bodies promised a speedy destruction, which should mean that he and his lads smashed right through them before the dwarfs could counter-attack his flank. Besides, he had spotted the enemy’s baggage in the rear and greed always had a habit of getting the better of him.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle44_zps8dsrvi8k.jpg)

Behind Mangler, his bulls crashed into the last of the Pavonan swordsmen, right beside their lord Duke Guidobaldo. (Game note: The Pavonan player, actually playing Duke Guidobaldo in the campaign, had agonised over whether it was best to join the unit or not. I thought it was crazy not to, but he decided it was for the best to ‘remain single’.)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle45_zpsudvzpzxq.jpg)

On the other side of the field, amidst a confusion of blue and white, with Pavonans running hither and thither, even through their comrades’ ranks and files, Razger tore into and right through the handgunners closest to him before they could even bring their muzzles to bear.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle46_zpszx2jd2pp.jpg)

This was the beginning of the end for the Pavonans. The handgunners – what few were not only left standing but also retained wits enough to do so – fled away, as did the handgunners at their side, thus joining the halberdiers’ frantic flight to form a turbulent river of broken men. The dismounted pistoliers would soon be swept up too. Visconte Carjaval, having successfully halted and reformed his noble men-at-arms, witnessed this sudden collapse. In that moment, his breath ragged with exhaustion, he chose not to sacrifice himself and the proud chivalry of Pavona in an almost certainly futile gesture of defiance. Instead, he gave the order to ride, and ride fast. He intended to find Duke Guidobaldo and, as he shouted to his men, “Look to our lord’s safety.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 30, 2017, 10:02:10 PM
What the visconte didn’t know was that Mangler’s large regiment of bulls had made very short work of the last Pavonan swordsmen, stepping forwards to find themselves in combat with the duke himself!

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle47_zpsf1pwleru.jpg)

Another boom advertised the ironblaster’s next shot, its massive ball killing five of the Reman dwarfs. The Scrap-launcher’s effort was badly directed, for the burden beast carrying the contraption had been startled by the ironblaster’s report, and its heavy hail of sharpened iron poured upon the mules, oxen and wagons of the baggage train rather than the enemy’s soldiers.

Duke Scaringella, for more than a decade Captain General of the Reman army, as was his father before him, and in all that time having not fought a single battle that was not already a forgone conclusion, now found himself in the deadliest of combats. He knew this was the moment his life had always been shaping him for, and that the rest of his life would be shaped by, which is why he chose to challenge the brute tyrant Mangler himself. His lance found its mark and grey flesh was pierced, but then Manglers’ riposte almost broke the duke’s shield arm, threatening to tear him from his saddle.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle48_zpsfmjhjkul.jpg)

Somehow, he held tight. Dropping his shattered lance, he tore his sword from its scabbard and screamed: “Fight, lads. Fight!”   

Crossbow bolts were loosed by the dozen, and a cannon boomed, killing two more of the lead-belchers on the ogres’ right, and scaring the rest away. Then another cannon shot brought the monstrous beast carrying the ironblaster down, the ball almost taking its head from its shoulders.

The dwarfs now charged into Mangler’s flank, and their butchery was astounding. As Mangler finally bashed Duke Scaringella off his horse, then broke the horse’s neck with his elbow, the ironguts beside him were all but annihilated.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle49_zpsdoyoq3vz.jpg)

Suddenly the mighty Mangler found himself surrounded by a dizzying crowd of assailants. Their jabs, thrusts and slashes came from all quarters, while the weight of their numbers made it hard to discern one from another. Stumbling backwards, blood pouring from half a dozen gaps between his iron scales, he realised his huge bardiche was no longer in his hands. For the first time ever, the urge to fight had been supplanted by something different. Before he could fully comprehend what it was, he was dead, falling beside the battered body of Duke Scaringella. One of the dwarfs scrambled over the brute tyrant’s corpse, shouting, “The duke!” and began to drag the armoured noble away.

Duke Guidobaldo, having exchanged several blows most gallantly with the enemy before him – enough, he hoped, to distract them momentarily – now gambled his life on the obedience and strength of his mount. Yanking on the reins as he struck his hammer at the lead ogres’ face, he turned about and urged his horse on. He had to outpace the brutes behind him, despite their size and despite the armour upon both him and his horse. His horse, reputed the finest in central Tilea, proved sufficient to the task and the duke escaped the ogres’ further harmful intentions, galloping like he had not done since his youth.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle50_zps2l0yzbow.jpg)

The field had become divided from left to right. On one side of the field the Remans were reforming their line to face the foe, while on the other almost every alliance soldier had fled leaving only Razger and his surviving warriors, as well as quite a number of Mangler’s ogres, albeit in a rather less neat formation than the men. In between the two the ground was strewn with ragged heaps men and brutes, dead or wounded, as well as the smoking remains of several guns.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 30, 2017, 10:11:47 PM
The Remans still had two Pavonan cannons with them, as well as their own piece …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle51_zpssjtbctbd.jpg)

… and at such a distance they presented a sight which none of the ogres were glad to see. Those were the guns that had not yet failed. They had cut down mournfangs, rhinoxes and many an ogre, and there was no reason to suppose they would not continue to do so. Advancing upon the last surviving Reman regiments would prove costly to Razger’s army, perhaps even fatal? As his brutes stopped their stomping and reformed their bodies, Razger took a breather and gave the situation some thought.

He could see the loot was still safe – not a man had got close to the heavily burdened wagons. Scrutinizing the field ahead, he guessed Mangler must surely have fallen in battle, simply by the fact that neither he nor any of his irongut bodyguard could be seen. Suddenly, Razger realised this suited him just fine. Almost all the loot in the baggage train had been Mangler’s - payment and bribes for his continued mercenary service. If Mangler was dead, whose loot was it now? And who would command his warriors? If Razger left now, with all the loot and whichever lads could still march, he decided that wouldn’t be so bad. If anything, it was better than things had been before the battle when virtually none of the loot was his and only half of his army could be trusted. Razger’s mouth twisted into a grin, as wicked as it was fierce, and he shouted to two of his lads to listen up.

The dwarfs dragged Duke Scaringella away from the heap of dead and dying Cathayans, then turned him over to look at him properly. There was no sign of life in his eyes, and his chest plate was caved in so deep his ribs must all have broken and his lungs burst beneath. They laid him down gently, then all but one returned to their places in the regiment. The other ran towards the arch-lector to deliver the bad news.

To the south of the battlefield, Duke Guidobaldo Gondi had rendezvoused with Visconte Carjaval, and was now riding, somewhat faster than the scattered clumps of footsoldiers around him, in a wide arc to avoid the foe and get to the Reman lines. There he hoped to find his son, and whatever remained of his army.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle52_zpsyz6gcea7.jpg)

Back at the ogres’ wagons, gnoblars, draught-slaves and bulls alike, watched with suspicion as two ogres, Razger’s lads, raced towards them.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/DoubleBattle53_zpsdxdrdrx0.jpg)

As they drew close, the nearest shouted. “Hitch ‘em up and get ready to shift. We’re moving off now.”

One of the bulls by the wagons, called Gordok, strode forwards, a great long whip in hand. “On whose say so?”
 
“Razger’s orders,” came the answer.

“I take orders from Mangler, like most of us here. Razger can ask him if he wants some shiftin’ done.”

“You’ll not be getting orders from Mangler n’more,” said the new arrival, laughing. “So if ya know what’s good for yer, you’ll shut it now an’ do as yer told.”

Game Notes

The battle was effectively over by turn 3! Which was helpful as our time was up too. 10.00 – 5.00 had seemed like plenty of time, but the armies were so big, and the conversation flowed fully. Luckily, this did not in any way hinder the game-world outcome or story, because the table top was indeed divided. From here on in it would be like starting another battle, this time fighting from east to west rather than from north to south. None of the players would have wanted that even if there was time. Matt (Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona) had little left of his forces, and his only hops was to regain some sort of a force from casualty recovery and retreating what he had from the field. He was also hoping his son Silvano’s ‘Character Recovery Roll’ (a campaign rules chart) might bring the lad back. This is indeed possible as he wasn’t overkilled, although it is only a 5+ chance after a draw. He has have yet to make that roll.

Jamie, aka Razger Boulderguts, had begun the battle with renewed confidence. Earlier in the week he had worried about the enemy having 1500 more points, and whether he could trust Mangler, wondering whether Razger should simply flee away, perhaps attempting to employ Mangler’s slow-moving force (due to the baggage train) as a stall. But as the armies were being deployed for the game, and he considered the two opposing players difficulties in coordination on the field, as well as his own obvious strength (despite the points on paper disparity), I could see he was much more confident. In truth, he went away happy, because he now has a chance of re-possessing all the loot, possibly gaining control of Mangler’s ogres to replace the losses in his own ranks, and even perhaps getting back ‘home’ to Campogrotta in the north. (All that, I presume, will be in the campaign thread later.)

You probably noticed that the NPC Duke Scaringella of Remas failed the character recovery roll, scoring a measly 2, thus the dwarfs finding him dead. The player playing him, and commanding all the Reman forces, was Damo (who actually plays Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore in the campaign) had been given a character guide of two full pages of background, motivations and political goals, as well as the full army list etc. I have to say he played the part very well. If you want to know his motivations in a nutshell, then see the end of the prequel story, which was fashioned out of the information I gave to Damo. Excerpt ...

“[Scaringella] must defend Remas, of course, either by destroying the ogres or chasing them away. His victory must be glorious, so he can return to Remas as a hero, winning the citizens’ favour. He must earn a good portion of the loot so that he can feed and pay the army; and he must prove to be so effective on the field of battle that the Pavonan duke is grateful, becoming an important ally during the struggle ahead. Yet he must do all these things without suffering crippling losses, for he will need the army to put the Disciplinati di Morr back in their place upon [the arch-lector’s] return to Remas.”

Admittedly, his death does not sound too successful, and the Remans never got the ogres’ loot, but I am saying he played the role amazingly well, not that the character was happy about the result! All the way through Damo was happy to give advice to his ally, and did so in such a way that it took until turn 2 before the rest of us realised that the Pavonans had been tricked into doing nearly all the hard fighting! The result was quite a good one for Remas: the arch-lector lives, having much of the Reman army left(1/3 casualties on the field are also be recovered after a draw). They have  chased the ogres away, thus gaining a victory (another one) to win support for the arch-lector back home. And the Pavonans might be very loyal allies, especially if they desperately need help! That isn’t bad compared to defeat and annihilation!

I would love to go into all the political repercussions and other potential consequences of the battle, as well as what the various parties involved might do as a result of it, but I can’t. For a start, I can’t discuss players’ plans and thoughts for gameplay reasons. (That’s why I do so many stories from NPC perspectives.) And secondly it would take so long that it would fill several pages with a tortuous explanation of ifs and buts, whys and hows, etc. Let’s just say it’s complicated! Very complicated. And changing all the time.  It’ll all most likely come out in subsequent stories!

So with both sides unwilling to fight on, and both Remans and Razger finding something good about their situation (although not Duke Guidobaldo!), they agreed a draw. Both sides would now back away from each other, recovering what they could in the process without risking being drawn back into a fight.

Many thanks to Mark of M&L Models in Pontefract for hosting the game. It’s a great venue, welcoming and with good facilities (tables, scenery, etc). I heartily recommend it to any ‘local’ gamers, and I hope to use it again.

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/MampLModels_zpsyiptaek5.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on May 31, 2017, 12:32:56 AM
 Bloody incredible Padre! I think somewhere there's a thread about hobby rewards(?)  I said it then and I'll say it again. I think you get the max out of gaming/modelling/story telling/ fluff and gaming buddies. You have it all sir! What a treasure.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 30, 2017, 04:55:52 PM
Bloody Photobucket have got me over a barrel. All my thousands of images, inserted into hundreds of bat reps, campaigns, stories and painting posts, gone. Unless I pay...
Quote
o Plus 500 Plan: 500 GB of Storage and unlimited bandwidth for $399.99 / Year. The Plus 500 Plan allows for unlimited image linking and unlimited 3rd party image hosting.
That's the cheapest option that allows third party image hosting. Nothing else does.

I don't even know if I pay, whether the images will reappear or I would have to spend weeks re-linking them all. If I don't pay, then there will be absolutely loads of work to do, so much that I would have to let everything but this campaign die. 10 years of 10 - 50 photo bat reps, campaigns with literally thousands of photos.

My hobby life, half my life, has just been zapped!

It's insane. All that work and effort.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: RE.Lee on July 02, 2017, 09:51:27 PM
Those bastards!

Don't pay. Move to Imgur or something like that and re-link the crucial bits. I'll take some time but at least you won't be promoting ransomware  that is photobucket :icon_evil:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 02, 2017, 09:56:24 PM
... It'll take some time ...

You're not kidding. It's 3600 photographs. It's actually impossible. I'm trying to work out what to do. If I trusted them I think I'd pay the $400/year, but I don't trust them at all now.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 03, 2017, 11:12:02 AM
God damn photobucket. Bastards, all of them. :icon_evil:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Darknight on July 06, 2017, 01:18:06 PM
You can still access the images by going directly to the URL http://s69.photobucket.com/user/padrissimus/library/

Here is the one for the Tilean campaign; http://s69.photobucket.com/user/padrissimus/library/TileaCampaign?sort=3&page=1

You should be able to get a hold of some very basic webhosting - literally a domain name and some space - accessible by FTP for less than 20 quid a year. I used Fasthosts (and still do for some things) when I was in the UK.

All you need to do is resize the images yourself and upload them via FTP. It is very simple to do. You can even get easy FTP clients - I use FTPCommander (free edition) but there are others. I also think most hosting companies offer web-based file management.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 06, 2017, 01:43:37 PM
Thanks Darknight. I have already downloaded 95% of my photos from Photobucket and extracted them to make sure I have copies in folders on my pc and various memory sticks. Just a few extra folders to lift from Photobucket when I have time to negotiate their very difficult to access site (constantly dodging and shutting down adverts, on all sides, and half the time only half the page loads).

I know nothing about FTP, and so don't have a clue what you are suggesting. I will look it up and see if I can understand it. Resizing 3500+ images sounds time consuming!!

In the meantime I have got myself a Wordpress site (domain name, hosting and space) for a little more than you said, and I have begun the process of creating a website to host my campaign and whatever other, older stuff I want to put on. It takes time, as I have to re-edit each post, upload and attach each image in the correct place, and re-edit the main page folders (I've been struggling with HTML for the last couple of days but with a bit of help I've got it working satisfactorily - there's a lot of things you have to avoid to stop it misbehaving). I just now have to continue to do so a little bit every day for several months and I reckon I will have recreated the campaign threads and several other things.

If you look at www.bigsmallworlds.com you'll see where I am up to. Each campaign page will contain several posts. The Tilean Campaign Part 2 page, for example, has only one post which I put on this morning, but it will grow and grow until I switch to part 3.

If you do take a look, and there's anything not working correctly with your browser, please tell me. I can only test GoogleChrome and Microsoft Edge myself.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Darknight on July 06, 2017, 02:56:14 PM
If you need any technical help with FTP or similar things, I am happy to help via PM or email. I suspect there are many people here who might be more familiar with Wordpress or use of modern internet stuff than I am, but in terms of raw, down-and-dirty, make-a-website-work, oil-on-your-hands stuff, there aren't many to match me! :)

Wordpress is a great site - works like a dream and it has a really nice interface on the backend. I'm glad to know the images and your great story will be going back up.

You *may* be able to link from the WP site to publish an image here . . .

(https://bigsmallworldsdotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/07/northerntilea.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Darknight on July 06, 2017, 02:56:34 PM
Oh, yay! You can :)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 06, 2017, 03:07:56 PM
Hurray! Thanks again Darknight. If I get stuck on HTML again I will be in touch.

Regarding that image linked from my bigsmallworld site , can you imagine doing what you just did more than 1000 times for my campaign thread alone, each time finding the spot to insert a particular image and pasting it in? Then the other 2000 for all my other 11 years of posts, stories, painting articles, bat reps, campaign? And gthat would be after I build the bigsmallworld site! I might not have time to do that!

Instead I think I will edit in links to the website to various thread starting posts etc.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on July 06, 2017, 03:20:11 PM
Good work Padre! And good luck.
As all things in a labour of love, their is very little love returned from the recipient, but we shall all benefit 😸
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Darknight on July 06, 2017, 05:47:08 PM
Oh, it would be impossible with what you have already posted. But - moving forward - you can use Wordpress both as a hosting platform for the work, AND as a hosting platform for images you wish to post on this thread and others.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 08, 2017, 09:18:21 AM
With photoschumk being fat and greedy, WordPress is certainly one way to go.

All hail to www.bigsmallworlds.com ! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Mahbruck on July 09, 2017, 02:06:40 AM
Just registered to say thank you for all your writings in this blog. Really enjoyed them all, heck I even shamelessly stole your idea of Remas being the center of Morrite church in my Tilean campaign somewhere else. Hopefully you can reupload the best of the bunch and then recontinue the narration. Cheers.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 09, 2017, 10:52:16 PM
Thanks for your post, Mahbruck. It has helped fill my battery levels as I toil away trying to rebuild the entire campaign thread. I'm slowly doing so, maybe 5% through already. The website grows nearly every day. It's here: www.bigsmallworlds.com

I'll post again here when the website has reached the end of this thread, and then I'll link to the new stories too. Frustratingly I had almost finished the next campaign story piece, involving loads of new figures, and now it's put on hold while I slave at reconstructing the record!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: RE.Lee on July 10, 2017, 07:52:50 AM
The new website looks lovely!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 11, 2017, 12:37:04 PM
Some amazing magic has been done to this thread on the Oldhammer forum, and they have replaced all the pictures. You can see the fully repaired thread at http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=15&t=2889.

If, however, you want to read the slowly re-growing, 'improved' version of the campaign (in which I am editing all the posts for grammar, spelling etc) then take a look at www.bigsmallworlds.com.

This campaign will not die!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 11, 2017, 03:58:46 PM
How dey do dat?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 11, 2017, 04:09:35 PM
They found a way to upload all the photos linked on their sites, thus hosting them themselves, then renaming part of their name and renaming the links so that the pics appeared again where they should be. I'm bad at explaining it, though I did get the general gist of it, just none of the particulars.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 12, 2017, 04:38:20 AM
Cool, sounds like someone over there knows what they are doing when it comes to software and photos.

Maybe the same thing can be done here :icon_question:

I'd not visited that site before, and I'm going to have a closer look at some point.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 13, 2017, 09:03:51 AM
The Church of Nagash

Near Viadaza, northern Tilea, Spring 2403

The graveyards were empty, the tombs bereft of bones. Viadaza had been harvested of all that could be made undead many months before, upon Lord Adolfo’s command. Yet once again the city swarmed with the vampires’ servants, an army of animated warriors with or without rotting flesh, having this time marched upon the city rather than arisen within it. There had been no shortage of corpses after the battle at Ebino to swell the shambling horde, which meant Biagino, craving followers for his new Church of Nagash, had been generously provided for. He arrived at the city with quite a congregation – not only the select servants of La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti, but also the wild mob of his Disciplinati di Nagash. He had also been gifted the famous Cattedrale di Morr Re, which sat in its extensive grounds a little way north-east of the city walls. All this he received with a degree of satisfaction, but he knew it was not enough. If his church was to thrive, if Nagash was to be fed by its prayers and so return his blessings, then there was one more, (quite literally) vital thing he needed. Hopefully, Viadaza would provide.

As he waited before the castle-like front of the Cattedrale, he was accompanied by a cluster of servants.

(http://i.imgur.com/y7gTdOe.jpg)

Several zombies staggered hither and thither about their labours, lifting or dragging the last pieces of debris away so that the grassy space was almost pristine. Biagino’s guards and attendants, however, were silent and, for the most part, motionless. Three red-robed brothers stood in prayerful contemplation. They possessed a serenity which sometimes concealed their deep wickedness and at other times gave it a sharper edge. For now, they merely waited.

The first of Biagino’s Disciplinati was also present, his head a battered mess of misshapen bone and torn flesh, his hands disfigured by their size, somehow both swollen and emaciated at one and the same time, the splayed fingers elongated beyond their natural length. He still wore the dedicant’s robes he had been captured in, bar the gloves, of course.

(http://i.imgur.com/jlJHmQc.jpg)

Biagino had intended to turn this man into one of his Fraternita thralls, as he had done with several of those who had been captured alive, but in a fitful moment of uncontrolled bloodlust during the enspelling he had gone a tad too far and accidentally killed the man. Not wanting to waste the corpse, he chose instead to re-animate it. When he saw what resulted he decided there and then to form his Disciplinati di Morr, a huge mob of crazed un-corpses who would serve, as they had in life, as bloodthirsty dedicants, footsoldiers for his church, while his Fraternita would be his priests, clerks and lieutenants.

Apart from the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the faint sound of grunting and groaning from the foul mob contained within the cattedrali’s cloistered quadrangle, all was quiet on the tree-lined green.

(http://i.imgur.com/iDXfGRw.jpg)

Biagino had been waiting for another of his servants, a captain of his skeletal body-guard, to arrive. While he did so, he gave his mind up to the powerful swirl of gleeful desires born of his vampiric lusts, suffusing him thoroughly, and conjoining with the winds of magic animating his frame. He felt a surge building and allowed it to pour outwards, feeding all those around him and amplifying the eerie sound issuing from within the walls behind him.

(http://i.imgur.com/ygksYxh.jpg)

Then something bright caught his eye and he realised the captain was already present - sunlight reflecting from the curved blade of the captain’s ancient war scythe. 

(http://i.imgur.com/dTdUf0x.jpg)

“What news, captain?” Biagino demanded. “How many? And are they coming?”

The captain responded immediately, yet neither by movement nor sound. His answer was without words, for he knew not the modern tongue and had no tongue to speak it. It was contained in a thought, or rather the echo of a thought, which washed through Biagino’s mind with cruel clarity.

They are coming, but it will be some time yet. There are not many, less than a hundred.

“So few?”

The city is almost empty. All the rest have fled.

“Which means I get the slow, the foolish and the unlucky?”

They live.

“Yes,” said Biagino. “At least they are alive. And they must stay that way until they have yielded unto Nagash all that they can – every anguished prayer and fearful misery. I will turn their screams into hymns, their cries into plainsong. Their torment will be delicious as their suffering sates our lord’s hunger.”

He thought of the blood he would take from them in their last moments. It would be a meagre nourishment, like thin gruel, but in great quantity. This in turn stirred in him the ancient hunger, a distraction he refused to yield to.

“It seems we have time on our hands,” he said. “We shall put it to good use and further prepare this temple for its unholy purpose. I will have it made ready before the worshippers arrive.”

Biagino turned to the first of his Disciplinati.

(http://i.imgur.com/Lx9bSSf.jpg)

“It is time for your brothers to begin the vapouring,” he declared. Then he looked upon the three Fraternita.

(http://i.imgur.com/dLNi5XR.jpg)

“Bring the tome,” he ordered. One of the red-robed thralls stepped forwards to proffer said book.

(http://i.imgur.com/T0PQzJh.jpg)

Biagino made a sign over the book and gave a short prayer in the classical Reman tongue: “In virtute Nagash, non somnus, non requiem.”

The thrall then opened the book to a page marked by a finger bone and turned it around to allow Biagino to read its ancient text. He did so, aloud, intoning the words with exaggerated expression, an almost mocking tone. Allowing the etheric breeze to penetrate him deeply, to coalesce and swirl through and about his mind, he summoned his Disciplinati.

For a few moments only his shrill voice could be heard, but then another sound joined it, not one but many voices. They were wordless, first groans and moans, then guttural cries and growls. Biagino turned to look at the trees to his left. The others did the same …

(http://i.imgur.com/cbM7hx9.jpg)

… and he cried out, “There! My bambini. See how they run!”

They poured from the catedrale, their pace frantic, their arms outstretched, still part-clothed in the ragged remains of their Morrite robes.

(http://i.imgur.com/fFaiq3r.jpg)

“Ha!” laughed Biagino. “Look at them! They have not forgotten, but now they dance for Nagash!”

The Disciplinati cavorted onwards, forming a long column. Some carried the weapons they had died with …

(http://i.imgur.com/UNZV9Qk.jpg)

… while others ran empty handed.

(http://i.imgur.com/DKrdpSh.jpg)

Wild they ran, barely balanced, as if falling ever forwards, each step made just in time to prevent a tumble.

(http://i.imgur.com/ghc5Y9k.jpg)

Some wore the red or grey hoods of Morrite flagellants, others were topped with matted, ragged hair, while many were bald and bloody.

(http://i.imgur.com/ozqglaV.jpg)

As they emerged from behind the trees onto the open space, their course began to alter.

(http://i.imgur.com/tCq8Xxi.jpg)

The crazed column began to curve across the front of the catedrale, to commence its circumnavigation of the grounds.

(http://i.imgur.com/gD2hb77.jpg)

Just as they had done at Ebino, when they hurtled pell-mell around the holy carroccio, they now did the same here, so that their clamourous cavorting might sanctify the catedrale. This time, however, they served a different god.

The Church of Nagash was truly re-born!
................................
Remember, to see the whole campaign, with re-instated pictures, please go to http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=15&t=2889, or to see the WIP (slowly being rebuilt) version, visit my website at www.bigsmallworlds.com.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 14, 2017, 02:52:04 AM
It's great to see that you're back with the pics! Splendid! :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 04, 2017, 01:50:02 PM
The end of Spring, IC2403

Part 1. (Extract from) A New Scripture for the Enlightened. Chapter 14, The Devoted of Palomtrina


It came to pass in the Spring of that year that the righteous of Palomtrina arose, after the last of the desert men had departed, and this multitude did cry out and promise themselves to Morr, desiring to be holy in his eyes, for they feared the imminent arrival of the undead and the brutes. Vallerius is the name of he who led them, their shepherd. And they did name themselves Morr’s Devoted. And their shepherd commanded them that they offer a sacrifice to the Lord Morr, which they did, putting off all their ornaments, burning and destroying utterly all the dainty works they had amassed, yielding their worldly wealth, offering up every gold and silver bauble they possessed unto the holy church. After which, the people lifted up their voices and wept with joy.

But they knew not that the chief among them, Shepherd Vallerius, was false, and through greed sinned against the Lord Morr, taking what he pleased from that which the Devoted had offered, diminishing its value greatly and concealing that which he had taken. And still his greed was not sated, so he spake unto them and bore false witness, revealing that the Lord Morr had visited his dreams, and he beguiled them with his words, and he revelled in their admiration, and his pride swelled unbounded. He commanded that they slay all those who had tended to the desert men before they departed, be they the innkeepers who had fed them …

 (https://imgur.com/yIO1QfE.jpg)

… or merely their servants, even the children.

(https://imgur.com/yp5Zwcv.jpg)

And he commanded them to show no mercy to those men who had traded goods with them …

(https://imgur.com/BjITIqS.jpg)

… and to slay all the women who had known the desert men, then to plunder all that these people possessed, gifting the spoil to the leaders of the Devoted, that they might use it to procure arms and armour for the holy war. In their fury and fervour, the Devoted did shed the blood of the innocent, stoning them with stones and burning them with fire, and utterly destroying them, man and woman, child and infant, not knowing that those things the shepherd had accused the people of were not sins in the eyes of Morr. And their hands were filled with blood. Yet they showed no mercy, despite the pleading of those they slew. And when the righteous priests tried to teach them the error of their ways, and were wroth with them, they did even slay them.

(https://imgur.com/lBHJ7ey.jpg)

And they did spoil and plunder even as their prey lay dying, taking ox and sheep and ass, and all the goods they had stored, and all that was good in their eyes.

(https://i.imgur.com/JrPI2Rv.jpg)

And when they gave thanks their prayers were in earnest, and they cried out for guidance that they might know what they should now do.

Holy Morr looked upon them and knew them to be his Devoted, despite that they were lied to by their false Shepherd. He knew that they had not forsaken him, though they were a trouble unto him. They were made unclean not of themselves, but by he who misled them, yet they could be made clean, ceasing to do all evil. And so Morr visited the shepherd in dreams, and troubled his spirit. And when the sleep broke from him the shepherd knew what must come to pass thereafter, and he was astonied, and at first knew not what to do, for the dream did make him afraid. So Morr took his hand to conduct him whither he was bound, and in turn the shepherd led his congregation to Remas, both he and they in dazed obedience.

Upon the journey the Devoted murmured amongst themselves, for they could see the consternation of their shepherd, and they were troubled by their thoughts, and Morr visited their dreams too that they might grow to suspect their shepherd and know him for what he was. And when they came to Remas they had come to know that Vallerius was a false prophet, and they bound him in fetters and delivered him into the hands of the Admonitor, that he might be judged according to the multitude of his sins, and that they too, in all humility, might be punished for the abominations they had done, for they knew they could not enter Morr’s garden carrying the burden of their sinfulness.

So they did scourge their flesh with flails and whips, the better to tear away their sins through painful subjection to Morr’s will. And for every blow they had struck against the innocent they administered a dozen blows unto their own bodies, in penance, and through this mortification they did purify themselves, and wash away all pride and arrogance, and all sinful thoughts.

And Morr revealed his wrath against the ungodly and unrighteous shepherd to the Admonitor, being the right-hand man of Father Carradalio, and made it known that Shepherd Vallerius must be punished for his iniquities. And the shepherd was taken to the field by the ruins of the Ludus Carracallus, in the company of several brothers of the Disciplinati di Morr, whom the Admonitor had declared to be blessed revengers fit to execute wrath upon him that hath done such evil.

In that place the shepherd knelt, for he could not stand before Morr’s indignation, and he knew full well what he had done and desired that he might be saved by Morr’s mercy. And he was pitiful in the brothers’ eyes. And prayers were said over him as he knelt, that his body might rest peacefully and that such a sinful soul as he would not rise from the grave to commit further wickedness.

(https://imgur.com/5ju5gX1.jpg)

While the brothers watched and waited for the appointed time, the shepherd’s vileness did reveal itself for he began to curse them, that they be punished for what they were doing, but they did not revile him in return for they knew from his words that he had been judged righteously, and so took comfort that it was indeed Morr’s will that was to be done.

(https://imgur.com/sbEVtUG.jpg)

And when the time came they smote him through his neck, and the blade went out at his throat.

(https://imgur.com/Nj1ELal.jpg)

And when an hour had passed, the Devoted were brought to the place of execution. There the Admonitor delivered his admonishment, saying Hear my speech, and hearken to all my words. Your deeds may well have been inspired by Morr, howsoever misinterpreted by Shepherd Vallerius, who in his arrogance feigned an intimacy with Morr he did not possess. I have no doubt that you were driven by an earnest desire to serve Morr Most High, to cleanse both yourselves and the world of all that offends him, and so you sinned in ignorance. It was Vallerius who caused thee to err, but err you did, and you will be judged. What you did was evil in the eyes of Morr and you must pray for forgiveness as you have never prayed before, and you must learn humility in the face of Morr, and bow to the wisdom of those who are closest to him, and who hear his words most clearly.

Holy Morr does not whisper to our Holy Father Carradalio, but speaks loud and clear. You must not presume to know, from your own imaginings and convictions, what is right, nor what must be done, but rather must become fully obedient to the true church and its saints. You must prostrate yourselves before Morr’s altars, humble yourselves before his shrines, and offer yourselves body and soul into his service.

I shall hereby make atonement for your sins, and I will ask that Holy Morr forgive you, so that you may make afresh your covenant with Holy Morr.

And the holiest of books was brought to him that he might read from it and so bless them.

(https://imgur.com/ZUDik8U.jpg)

And a priest did intone the necessary prayers before the reading.

(https://imgur.com/hDFwjRJ.jpg)

Beside him was the Blessed Ravern Standard that the Devoted were to pledge themselves to, as well as several of the most humble and holy priests of Remas …

(https://imgur.com/gEPjAHB.jpg)

And the throng of the Devoted did listen unto the words and their hearts were lifted as they knew that they were cleansed of their sins in the eyes of the Lord Morr, and that their hearts were delivered of all tribulations, so that they might now go forth and fight against the vampires and their foul servants until they had gotten the victory over them.

(https://imgur.com/iMMs7rp.jpg)

They were given a new Shepherd Marshall to govern them, and to lead them in battle. And the spirit of Morr filled them, until they cried as one, “Thanks be to Morr!”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on October 04, 2017, 05:48:08 PM
Great to see more of your work Padre. :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: jchaos79 on October 06, 2017, 07:38:50 PM
It is great to see you continue your amazing campaing.

It is a hard blow. (I also suffer of hundreds of warmaster pictures link lost and it kills my figures "moho")

Today I came into your campaing (which I used to follow) and discovering you still carry on makes me want to paint and play again.

Have my respect, man.

Thanks Padre.

PS. Im in love with your paint style dude!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 26, 2017, 09:37:30 PM
Thanks JChaos79!

The End of Spring, IC2403

Part 2. A Letter from Antonio Mugello to my most noble Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

Forgive me, my lord, for the untidiness of my writing, but I am forced by circumstances to pen this missive both in haste and in conditions unconducive to neatness. For the first time in a long while I am not far from Verezzo, being merely a league south of Ridraffa, but the joy I should feel about my proximity to home is diminished by the news I send.

The brute tyrant, Razger Boulderguts, led his army from the beating he received south of Remas, travelling along the Via Diocleta. Neither the Remans nor the Pavonans sought to pursue him, for the former seemed happy enough that he had turned away from their realm, and the latter were in no fit state to attempt any further action in the field.  Boulderguts retained the great train of loot he had plundered from Astiano and Pavona, as well as much of his strength. Indeed, it might even be that his own army has swelled in size, for whereas before the double army bore both his and Mangler’s standards at its fore, it is now reported that only Boulderguts’ colours are carried, and that the part of Mangler’s army remaining, still a substantial force, does not baulk at marching under those colours. Several brutes’ corpses were discovered in the army’s wake, some showing signs that they died from festering wounds received at the battle of Diocleta, but others, being the mightier sort, bearing fresh wounds apparently received in some internecine strife. Such evidences most likely indicate that Razger has wrested complete command of the entire force for himself.

Taking leave of the Reman and Pavonan army in Frascoti, I followed the brutes with several scouts, until I joined a party of Verezzan merchants seeking a safe way home. Upon learning that I was your servant, the chief amongst these merchants, your friend Alessandro Burlemacchi, offered whatever I needed to assist me in my duties, and so enabled me to ride close to the brute army in the company of his best guards, all the better to spy upon them. It soon became clear that Razger was not disheartened by his bloody brush with the dukes Guidobaldo and Scaringella, but instead sought to continue his spate of destruction and butchery. As his army approached Ridraffa, the bulging baggage train came to a halt whilst his grey-skinned warriors surged onwards in battle array.

The Ridraffans had made great efforts to fortify their walled city, circumvallating the entire periphery with earthworks and the ditches from which they were dug, defences which were both palisaded and studded with a forest of storm-poles. It seemed to me that the brutes would be sorely tried in the taking of the city, if even only a meagre garrison were available to man the works. But I did watch with mine own eyes as they marched on without once faltering, then surged over the works with no discernible delay.

The populace fled pell-mell from every gate, for the most part unburdened with possessions and goods, as if they had learned full well from the cruel fate of those towns and cities already fallen. Indeed, perhaps the only reason so many did escape was because they left their wealth, even their livestock, behind, for in so doing the brutes were consequently distracted, being fully occupied with the sharing of the spoils.

I myself met with several of those who fled, including Master Poliziano, secretary to the city council and cousin to the gonfalonieri. It was from him I first learned the terrible truth concerning how the city had fallen so suddenly, an account which sadly has been verified by others I have met since.

The garrison was weak, certainly in comparison to Razger’s force, but their defensive works were strong, and they had a card to play which the Ridraffans believed could save them – none other than the Wizard Lord Salvatore. All in Tilea know that when the ratto uomo swarm threatened to swallow Ridraffa in 2381, Gervasio Strozzi conjured magics so powerful that nigh upon half the swarm burned causing the rest to flee in fear, thus earning himself his new name.

Yet it was not to be so this time. Ancient as he was, his beard reputedly the longest and whitest born by any man south of the River Trantino, his bravery was undiminished. Indeed, perhaps he was too brave? For he was heard to say, “I need to get a little closer,” and before anyone could stop him he stepped outside the works.

All those present fell silent, apart from one horn-blower who was so intent upon sounding his call to arms that he alone did not notice, despite being one of those closest to Salvatore.

(https://i.imgur.com/qVQrXQ2.jpg)

Staff in hand, his large, crooked, green hat ensuring that every pair of ogre eyes could pick him out easily (especially when they sought out the blaring horn) he strode beyond even the storm poles. Perhaps he had become purblind in his old age? Or was so engrossed in his ethereal conjurations that he lost sight of this world and the many, mundane dangers it held in that moment? The soldiers stared in confusion …

(https://i.imgur.com/m1u5xqA.jpg)

… as he spoke the words of his incantation. Those who saw it told me that upon completion, and the bringing down of his staff, for a moment it was as if the world stood still. And yet, the sky remained calm – not one wisp of cloud appeared, not the tiniest flicker of lightning, nor even the faintest echo of distant thunder.

The brutes had halted, perhaps as surprised as the Ridraffans, to join the momentary silence.

(https://i.imgur.com/34Bk4DD.jpg)

Then one was heard to laugh, and another to shout, and then many more gave vent to angry cries, and they loosed a rain of missiles upon the old wizard: a spear-sized quarrel, a hail of leadshot and a whole mess of mangled metal. Inevitably, in the midst of it all, as the grassy ground churned about him and the storm poles at his side shivered to pieces, he fell.

Then, as suddenly as the horn fell silent, it’s blower belatedly aware of what was happening, the brute army lurched forwards. To their credit, I was told that not one Ridraffan fled, but instead they chose to fight, running from those parts of the works unthreatened by the foe to where the attack was to come.

(https://i.imgur.com/WPKXhUA.jpg)

They loosed a hundred bolts, and drew every sword …

(https://i.imgur.com/zrzmJ4X.jpg)

… but to no avail, for the foe burst through the storm-poles as if leaping nothing more than toothpicks, and mounted the works as if they were but molehills, and there was nothing the defenders could do to stop them.

(https://i.imgur.com/JJq7C6a.jpg)

In this way Ridraffa fell, every fighting man brutally slain and crushed under the heavy, iron-shod feet.

Against the advice of the guards with me, and yet with their brave acceptance of my decision, I lingered in the vicinity of the city, intent upon discovering the ogres’ intentions, whither they would go, for I was filled with dread at the prospect that they might choose to travel further south and so threaten your Lordship’s realm. 

Razgers’ already huge baggage train swelled further as everything of value was dragged from Ridraffa. The ogres pressed every cart and wain, every carriage and coach, into their service, and still it was not enough (for many such conveyances had left the city in the days before their arrival). And so along with their greenskin servants they cobbled together carts of their own, taking wheels from barrows and gun-carriages, from the wrecked remains of abandoned wagons and the newly made stocks in the wheelwright’s workshops.

(https://i.imgur.com/fxzBJaw.jpg)

I myself saw them, through a perspective glass, as they left the city gates, their myriad means of transport, a hotch-potch of creaking and rattling contraptions, hauled by everything from livestock to slaves and even ogres.

(https://i.imgur.com/w2dszrq.jpg)

I watched as long as I could, until my guards dragged me away for my own protection, and I can report only that they were obviously heading for the bridge over the River Riatti. What Razger intends once they have crossed, whether to travel further south towards Spomanti and thus threaten the whole of your realm, or to turn north once more, perhaps finally sated by their vast haul of plunder, I know not. I could not cross the bridge for they left several brutes upon it, perhaps as a rear guard, perhaps because not all their force has yet to depart Ridraffa.

Thus it is that am dispatching this letter to you, and two identical copies by different messengers to ensure its arrival, rather than carrying it myself. I intend to cross the bridge at the first opportunity, to continue following the brute army, and to learn as much as possible of their intentions.

I hope and pray that my next missive will bear good news. Your loyal and humble servant, Antonio Mugello.

Game Notes:
This story was derived from a battle and the events around it. I didn’t write a full report, however, as it was a quick game (taking the time for lots of pictures and notes was impossible) and it didn’t seem ‘interesting’ enough, in that we both knew who would win. A part of me was glad I didn’t take detailed notes because I made a shocking and stupid decision in the first turn which, without a doubt, cost me the game – or at the least to the chance to do any significant damage to the ogres.

Jamie is the campaign participant playing Razger Boulderguts, while I (campaign GM) commanded the NPC force defending the small city of Ridraffa. I had modelled some new defences for the city, to expand those I had already made, and I used some newly painted generic militia figures as part of the defending force. When I realised 850 points was trying to take a nearly 3000 pt enemy, I thought to game was pointless, but then I remembered that the players ‘ realms and major NPC realms were allowed to have a free ‘ruler lord’. So I decided that the Ridraffans could have a level 3 Wizard lord too. Combined with sturdy defences then … Game on!

Except, as described in Mugello’s letter above, in the first turn I decided to risk walking the wizard out to get within range to attempt chain lightning. I thought I needed to maximise the number of chances I had that magic might swing in my favour.

Here is a shot of the moment from the actual game …

(https://i.imgur.com/4YqEatE.jpg)

I didn't take into account the scraplauncher, pistol-toting Maneaters and the Hunter with giant crossbow. I should have done.

Needless to say, it did not go well. Salvatore could not save himself (ironic) and died. And the ogres walked the rest of it. The only real harm the Ridraffans managed was to destroy the last of the ogre’s leadbelchers, to the point where the unit couldn’t recover. Considering, however, that the loot gained from razing such a small city could buy the lost Leadbelchers several times over, I doubt Jamie minded.

Still, it made writing the brief account above easy, and it wasn’t a run of the mill sort of battle!



Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on October 31, 2017, 12:09:25 PM
Very nice, very atmospheric. I really like that you're still continuing this epic project, even after that f-up with photobucket.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 31, 2017, 04:58:08 PM
Looks great! :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 20, 2017, 03:26:54 PM
The End of Spring, IC2403

Part 3. Shooting at the Butts
(Terrene, part of the city state of Verezzo)


At Poliena, the largest settlement in Terrene, that part of the city state of Verezzo inhabited almost wholly by halflings, the afternoon was as pleasant as could be expected. Three regulars were taking in the sun outside the Hairy Hog alehouse, supping of the best the landlord had to offer. In many ways, for them, this was no different to any other afternoon, except that they were dressed in blue and yellow livery, and had a very important visitor.

Pablo was drinking deep of his cup, so that ale ran down his chin.

(https://i.imgur.com/KifWHe5.jpg)

“Best not over do it,” suggested Tino. “We have to put on a good show.”

Pablo, who heard him, continued to gulp down his ale, while Benneto, who was not listening, stared absently at what was happening on the green. Tino watched with raised eyebrows until Pablo drained his tankard then slammed it down on the table.

After wiping his chin with the back of his hand, Pablo hiccuped, then gave a silly smile. Tino’s brow furrowed, which made Pablo smile all the more. He threw in a chuckle for good measure.

“I heard you,” Pablo said, before Tino could give vent to the inevitable complaint. “I just think my shooting’s better with a belly full. Steadies my aim, see?”

“Makes you care less about your aim, you mean," said Tino. “You’re lucky Lord Vescucci is twice your height otherwise he'd smell the ale on your breath.”

“But all soldiers drink before battle.”

“Ha! This ain’t battle. This is us showing our lord what we can do.”

The silly smile reappeared on Pablo’s face. “All’s well and good then, ‘cos drinking’s what I do best,” he said.

The word ‘battle’ had jolted Benneto out of his dreamy daze. His brow furrowed. “You think we really will have to fight?” he asked.

“Ridraffa’s fallen, so it’s likely we’re next,” explained Tino. “Boulderguts has ravaged his way through Tilea. Why would he suddenly decide to stop unless someone stops him?”

“But no-one has stopped him, neither Pavonans or Remans, and not for want of trying.”

“That they haven’t,” agreed Tino, somberly. “But they must have hurt him.”

“How can you know that?” demanded Bennetto.

“I know because he did not try to take the city of Remas, where gold is piled high. And they say he passed through Frascoti in such a hurry that his brutes took barely anything from it.”

“But they didn’t rush by Ridraffa, did they?” argued Benetto. “They bashed everyone’s heads in and took all they could. Which is a lot.”

"Ridraffa isn’t Verezzo," said Tino. "We have an army, they only had some militia and a handful of mercenaries.”

“Oh aye, an army that includes us. Great!” said Benetto. He plucked an arrow from his quiver and laid it on the table. “Will our shafts even pierce the brutes' flesh deep enough for them to notice?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we? The only alternatives are to run away from our homes, or wait to be served on their platters.”

The three fell silent for a moment, then Pablo piped up.

“Best have another ale then? While we can.”



Upon the green before them a company of archers were already letting loose at the butts. They too were liveried, apart from the hunter Roberto Cappuccio, known to all his friends as Pettirosso, who always favoured green despite his nickname.

(https://i.imgur.com/6GwZ1yA.jpg)

Their weapons looked like longbows would in a man’s hand, yet they were no longer than what men called bows. Every fellow there had practiced regularly since youth, honing his skill and strengthening the muscles (moreso on one side of his body than the other). They could match the range and punch of a human bow, but they hit the mark more frequently, and they could generally shoot for longer, provided there was some nourishment to hand to keep their spirits up. And they were just as well practiced at ensuring there was always food to hand.

The village constable, Giusto Corumo, was also watching the practice, his two brothers by his side, his big baton resting on his shoulder.

(https://i.imgur.com/XSwycK8.jpg)

It was his responsibility to muster the militia, though not to lead them in war. He was the stepping stone that took the able-bodied from the world of peace to field of battle; or more accurately, the short-tempered, foul-mouthed, club bearing elder who roused them, rounded them up and presented them to the military officers. For many a year he had rallied the rabble to ready them for their bi-annual drills, with no shortage of cruel jests to shame them into activity. This morning his tone had been just different enough, however, that nearly every somewhat surprised warrior recognised there was something different going on, and not just because the muster was a little earlier in the season than usual. The constable had also rushed like he had never before done, rousing every eligible soldier from each and every village and hamlet in less than four hours, which was no mean feat for a fellow as stout as he, especially when garbed in an iron breastplate to add to his military countenance. And they were right to be suspicious, for this was no mere holiday drill, this was the real thing. Their Lord, Conte Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo, had summoned them to make ready for war.

The conte had arrived at noon, just as several many of the gathered archers were beginning to hope that the muster was some sort of mistake, and he had immediately asked that the several companies show them what they can do. He had only a small company of guards with him, which included the handful of halflings who attended upon him at court in Verezzo. At first, Lord Lucca seemed uninterested in their drill, but rather wanted to see their skill with their bows. So began an archery tournament lasting the afternoon, which the conte observed intently.

(https://i.imgur.com/2YxR5p3.jpg)

One rank at a time, the halflings came before him, planted their shafts in the ground, then began loosing them at the butts. This would go on until Lord Lucca cried “Enough! Well done. Bring the next.” Then an army of younglings would pluck arrows from the butts while one rank marched as best they could away and another took their place. Always a thorough man, being a natural philosopher and organiser of his realm’s affairs, taking great care over matters of trade, finance and agriculture, studiously acquiring the knowledge he needed to keep his realm prosperous and safe, he was showing the same attention to detail here. As the afternoon lengthened, it became clear he intended to witness the skill of each and every archer, to see for himself whether (to a lad) they could be relied upon.
And as time wore on he seemed to relax somewhat, for rank after rank showed impressive consistency in their aim, peppering the targets’ centres with ever more holes, while leaving the periphery virtually unblemished.

(https://i.imgur.com/WJNeOxY.jpg)

All was done in a leisurely, sedate manner, like a lazy game of stoolball on a late summer’s afternoon, until almost everyone was thinking of the fine evening that must naturally follow this sport, with a pleasant pipe or two and a jar or three of ale.

(https://i.imgur.com/Jd7lSZT.jpg)

But the slow pace was due to Lord Lucca’s usual thoroughness, rather than any lack of urgency, and as the last company was dismissed (looking forward to their first drink of the night) he turned to the attending captains and ordered that the whole militia now assemble. He intended to inspect their brigade drill.



Within a quarter of an hour the halfling militia had drawn themselves up into two bodies, being four ranks each but arrayed in double width and so presenting as two double length ranks. Each company had its own colour, red and blue, as indicated by their flags' edgings.
 
(https://i.imgur.com/tH0fceD.jpg)

Lord Lucca was joined by Barone Iacopo Brunetti, the lord of Poliena. The barone would have cut quite a dash, cloaked and clad in armour upon his stout pony, if it were not for the conte’s contrasting bulk. Still, Iacopo’s pony bucked and reared as if keen for a fight, and he brandished his sword as he gave commands for the captains to repeat.

(https://i.imgur.com/wiNNKEq.jpg)

Once their manoeuvres were done, having doubled their front, countermarched and demonstrated the neatness of their dressings, they halted. The conte, apparently satisfied, now ordered them to stand, and began a short speech.

“You all know why you have been called forth this day. All of Tilea knows of the evils that beset our land - how other cities have suffered indignities at the least, and destruction at the worst. That will not happen to our dear Verezzo, for you and I will not allow it. Today you have proved yourself more than fit for any fight ahead. To a soldier you shoot well, and as a body you are as well drilled as any mercenary, or even any palazzo guard. Long practice has made you this way, and all that effort was done for this day. This e’en, first sharpen your arrowheads and fix your flights; hone your blades and look to all the trappings you need for war. Make these things as fit for battle as your yourselves have proven today to be. Whether brutes come or the unliving, or both, we shall be ready for them, and they shall learn that what is ours cannot be taken from us, and that we will not allow those we love to be harmed. The men of Verezzo and Spomanti, and the halflings of Terrene will stand strong together, each being the best I could hope for, and each complementing the other to forge a fighting force of courage and skill.

“Myrmidia has watched us today, and I know she will be pleased. Tonight, when every edge is as sharp as a razor, every bow waxed and all the armour oiled, say a quiet prayer to dedicate yourselves to her, and ask her to guide both you, your captains and myself in the days and weeks to come. Then, fill your flagons and drink a health in her honour!”

“Evviva!” came the cheer, again and again, as the Alfieri flourished the colours aloft.

(https://i.imgur.com/fIPlkgx.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on December 20, 2017, 04:02:23 PM
It's good to see you back Padre. As usual - exceptional stuff. :mrgreen:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 22, 2017, 03:16:12 PM
I like the hedges, walls, buildings, and cart with hay. :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::

The lord is a very nice figure, where was that obtained?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Trinkenessen on December 22, 2017, 05:16:48 PM
The Lord figure is from Warlord Games: Pike and Shotte

https://store.warlordgames.com/collections/wars-of-religion/products/mounted-mercenary-captain-wars-of-religion

A very nice figure with a spanish flavour.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 23, 2017, 01:49:57 AM
Cool! :icon_biggrin:  I like it a lot, and the rest of their Spanish/Estalian figures as well! :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on December 23, 2017, 10:30:15 AM
I'm a little bit afraid for the little guys. Do they understand what lies in their future - rough man-mercenaries, ogres, undead? Hope they can keep their enemies at the distance of an arrowshot! Hope the count is a very cunning tactician with these troops!

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 23, 2017, 02:05:11 PM
There' always "Runaway!"
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 23, 2017, 04:21:26 PM
Cool! :icon_biggrin:  I like it a lot, and the rest of their Spanish/Estalian figures as well! :::cheers:::
Coincidentally, my last figure purchase was some Warlord Games Pike and Shotte Spanish swordsmen to bulk up my existing, very small skirmishing band of Foundry 'El Dorado' figures (painted for WFRP not WFB thus not really numerous enough to field). Sadly, I still don't think I have enough to make a full unit (the local shop only had one blister), but I can get some more. I like their plastic set, but I am not fond of pikemen figures porting or charging their pikes, I much prefer them to be at order (i.e. straight up!)

I'm a little bit afraid for the little guys. Do they understand what lies in their future - rough man-mercenaries, ogres, undead? Hope they can keep their enemies at the distance of an arrowshot! Hope the count is a very cunning tactician with these troops! -Z


I too worry about them. They're gonna need allies on the field of battle, but will (a) any players offer to join them and (b) will said players get their forces there in time? Also, even when giant allied forces have more points than a unified foe, they seem to lose battles ... something about multiple players commanding different parts of an army weakens their effectiveness on the field, plus the allies forces tend to be filled with poorer troops compared to proper, fighting ogre and undead lists.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 23, 2017, 04:24:23 PM
While I'm here ... there's a competition being run on the Oldhammer site for the best Bat Rep of 2017.

IF any of you guys happen to be members of that site, and IF you think the Tilean campaign (the big Diocleta* battle was fought and reported in summer 2017) then please vote for me! It's at http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=13843.

* To see the battle report itself (with pictures restored, go to http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?p=85876#p85876)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on January 21, 2018, 07:10:12 PM
Not a member, but good luck!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 18, 2018, 01:57:21 PM
The End of Spring, IC2403

4. The Machinery of Government
(The City of Remas)


After a momentary delay in an ante-chamber, whilst word of his visit was sent aloft, a servant had led Brother Marsilio up the stairs and let him into the studio, opening the door in silence. Upon entering, Marsilio was pleased to discover a spacious, brightly lit chamber, infused with an aura of calm. It contained several well-stocked bookshelves. Manuscripts, maps and books littered a large, central table and intriguing technical schemata adorned the walls. One might expect such a profusion of papers to create a cluttered effect, but here they advertised the operations of a creative mind, the product of orderly, organised thought. After the tension of the streets, with every interaction, even the merest, momentary glance, either fearful or suspicious it was a blessed relief to step into this room.

The occupant, hunched over the table whilst perusing a thick tome, was so deep in contemplation that he did not look up. Marsilio stepped in, lightly, and used the opportunity to take a deep breath, soothing his excitable heart. A combination of nervousness, the disturbing world outside, and the climbing of the steep stairs, had worked together to put a strain upon his sanguine organ. The air tasted of books - of paper and the mite-ridden dust raised whenever it is disturbed after a long slumber, of old leather bindings and the mould harboured within. There was peace even in the smell of the room. Marsilio had not thought he would find such calm in any part of the city, such was his fear of being discovered at least as an emissary from the arch-lector, at worst as a prospective thief. His enjoyment lasted no longer than that breath, however, for upon remembering he must now reveal his true purpose, the fear returned.

The leaded glass of the windows was thick enough to dull the sound of the street below, so that when Marsilio’s next step drew forth a groaning creak from a wooden board, the noise was startling enough for the maestro to look up from his studies.

“Oh, good brother. Forgive me my distraction, please. The written word entrances me as well as any enchantment, conjuring a tumbling torrent of ideas in which I am like to drown. Who knows how long I would have splashed helplessly in those scholarly waters had you not saved me?”

Maestro Angelo smiled, apparently enjoying his little joke. “Come hither,” he instructed, “so that I may see you a little better. My eyes grow lazy when reading so long.”

Marsilio walked over to the table. The maestro wore a tight-fitting hood and a surcoat of Reman livery, with a heavy silver chain about his shoulders. His neatly trimmed beard had almost succumbed entirely to grey, but it was his widely spaced eyes and flattened nose that drew people’s immediate notice. He was clutching his book in one hand, as if the weight were of no consequence.

(https://i.imgur.com/WcNJbtQ.jpg)

“It is you who must forgive my intrusion, maestro. I am Brother Marsilio, and I am here upon a matter of some import.”

“Isn’t everyone, these days?” said Angelo with a smile. “Death hangs over us all. Not that it ever leaves mortal man’s side, but of late it has inched a good deal closer, and now we smell its foul breath each and every moment. Do you know, it has even found its way into my dreams?”

Marsilio was not surprised. He knew that Angelo had been present at the Battle of Ebino when the arch-lector Calictus had died, his army scattered, and all at the hands of monstrous legions of undead.

“If you please,” offered Marsilio, “I could offer a prayer to help you sleep a little easier, for Morr rules over our nightly slumbers as well as out eternal repose.”

“Why not, brother? Of late, it seems the only prayers spoken are meant to disturb, not soothe.”

Maestro Angelo now gave Marsilio a piercing gaze, studying him intently.

“You were not sent by the Praepositus Generalis,” he said.

“No, maestro. I think all his fanatics are out upon the streets, to witness your new machine. Indeed, I hope that is all of them, for if there are more then surely the entire citizenry has succumbed to the fury.”

Angelo smiled at this. He was not a handsome man, not least because his flat nose looked like that of an experienced pit fighter, being the result of a famous injury received in youth during a somewhat impetuous experiment to test human flight by the use of artificial wings. Marsilio had noticed one of the large papers upon the wall showed just such an artefact.

“I have come from the arch-lector, his Holiness Bernado,” continued Marsilio, hesitantly. “I was sent … sent to ask you  …”

Here he faltered, and Maestro Angelo’s smile grew broader.

“There is not much that is easy these days, brother, not even the asking of a question, eh? You need not rush. First, I would like to ask you a thing or two, if you will oblige me.”

“Yes, maester. Whatever you wish to know.”

“I heard Duke Scaringella died upon the Via Diocleta, but what of our army? None have returned to the city. Is it decimated?”

“No, it survived almost wholly intact. The arch-lector has command of it.”

“So easily? And he a churchman?”

“He had precedent enough,” explained Marsilio. “His holiness led several parts of the army before, as well as fighting by their side at Viadaza and upon the Via Diocleta. He has both the soldiers’ respect and their willing obedience.”

“Their obedience? I heard our soldiers razed Frascoti, looting it as thoroughly as Razger’s Ogres would have done had they not rushed by so hurriedly.”

Marsilio had not realised the depth of the lies being told in the city. “That is not true, maestro. We have set up camp there, to defend it and the rest of Remas from any further aggression by the Razger’s brutes. The people there have not been harmed. They’re thankful of our presence. Some of our soldiers are themselves Frascotans.”

“I do know our Pavonan allies are not with the army,” said Angelo. “Duke Guidobaldo brought his wounded son here, and his army too. Was there no room at Frascoti? Or perhaps there was some disagreement between him and the arch-lector?”

“None that I know of. The Pavonan army was very badly mauled, and their departure was not considered a great loss to the defence of Frascoti. Besides, in such times, why shouldn’t Duke Guidobaldo keep the last of his soldiers near?” Marsilio paused, then asked. “You mentioned the duke’s son. How fares the young Lord Polcario? His holiness bade me ask.”

“Oh, sadly he has lost an eye, but otherwise should recover well enough. I myself have visited him, advising his doctors as best I could,” said Angelo.

It cheered Marsilio to know he could can return with at least one happy thing to tell the arch-lector.

“One might ask,” said Angelo, fixing Marsilio in his gaze, “why the duke and the arch-lector would want the Pavonan army camped so close to the city. Their presence is generally considered unwelcome. What few Pavonan soldiers have snuck into the city, breaking their agreement, have been dealt with roughly, in accordance with Carradalio’s orders. It seems he does not trust them even to enter the city singly.”

Was the maestro trying to get military intelligence from him? And if so, then perhaps his allegiance did indeed lie with the fanatics. “I will not lie and claim to know that which I do not,” he said, “but I do not believe the Pavonans’ proximity is a tactical ruse. I know the Duke wanted the best doctors to attend Lord Polcario. And as a healthy, strong Remas makes a better friend for him in his time of dire need, then why would he do anything other than foster harmony between the divided factions of Remas. I greatly doubt he intends to fan the flames of civil war.”

“He does not need to, that fire burns well enough without any help,” mused Angelo. “He does not appear to be in any rush to return to his own ruined realm. Carradalio sent a father superior to minister to the duke’s army – one Rosello di Franchi, a Pavonan himself, although of a somewhat dubious background. By Rosello’s leave Duke Guidobaldo’s soldiers can forage to feed themselves, but must in return attend the father superior’s services, and harken to his sermons. Perhaps Carradalio thinks thus to bend the Pavonans to his will rather than their own lord’s? Even to make dedicants of them?”

(https://i.imgur.com/bj6leC3.jpg)

Marsilio frowned, for this all sounded very familiar. “He sent just such a man to our army at Frascoti, who preaches fulsome praise for our victory and our brave defence of Remas, ensuring all and sundry hear his words, from the greatest to the least. Of course, woven amongst his words are all the old Sagrannalian heresies.”

“Well, Carradalio successfully wrested control of great and ancient Remas. Why stop there? His star is in the ascendant and the gods obviously favour him. Both armies have good reasons to hear his message: the Pavonans share his predilection to worship Holy Morr Supreme, while many amongst our own army have friends and family in the city.”

“Of that I am not too sure, maestro,” said Marsilio. He had heard the sermons himself, and seen the soldiers’ disdain. “It seems to me that our soldiers do not enjoy being preached to about the war by those who have not fought in it. Do I take it from your words that you do not like Father Carradalio, then?” he asked the maestro.

A reluctant grin spread upon Angelo’s face. “Now there’s a real question. Affection is not required for respect. And in a time of war, men of action are required. He is definitely that. He and his followers can stir a pot to the very dregs. They can turn a whole city upside down.”

“You have made a war engine for them,” said Marsilio. “I saw it myself on my way here, being pulled through crowded streets. I was surprised you were not with it. You rode your steam engine before Calictus.” 

(https://i.imgur.com/uZxqj5Z.jpg)

Angelo shook his head. “I could not bear to accompany it, to be in those crowds. When I returned to the city I found what I found, whether I liked it or not. Yet Remas is my home. I offered the Praepositus Generalis a new engine to buy his favour, so that I might not suffer whatever ignominies he would otherwise demand of me. The work was as nothing compared to my steam engine, but he does not know that. In truth this engine was already almost completed, having been laid aside when I commenced work upon the last. The glasses were ground, the mounting done. All that was required was to assemble the parts. I had originally envisaged it as armament for the steam engine, but then Remas acquired a remarkable artillery piece, and when I saw what it could do I chose instead to mount that.”

“However it was made,” asked Marsilio, “will this new engine not wreak destruction upon the foe?”

(https://i.imgur.com/RbkqpZY.jpg)

“Oh, I assure you, it is capable of truly awful effect. As to how reliable it is, I cannot say. The artillery piece depended upon the quality of the black powder and the expertise of the gunners. This machine relies on the vagaries of the winds of magic, and the mathematical cunning with which its glasses are deployed.”

“It looks impressive, I can assure you.”

The maestro narrowed his eyes, then asked, “Did you see who rode upon it?”

“Two men, both in clerical robes. One fellow, an old man, bald on top with tufts of hair sticking out from the side, was holding a skull aloft.”

(https://i.imgur.com/N8VNJhT.jpg)

“Oh yes, he came with them for the machine. I showed him as best I could how it should be used. I heard they tested it yesterday upon a blaspheming heretic – some drunken fool who questioned aloud whether Morr had abandoned us. They tied him to a stake at a hundred paces distance and in a few moments burned his body to ashes from the neck down. Only his head remained, and that fleshless.”

“Thus the skull?” suggested Marsilio.

“Aye, thus the skull,” said Angelo.

(Continued below ...)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 18, 2018, 01:57:41 PM
“How does it work?"

“By an ingenious alignment of dioptrical glasses and prismatical crystals through which both natural and aetheric light are conjoined and congelated, refracted, multiplied and projected. The central glass is mounted upon a helical axle, allowing subtle adjustments of the interspatial lengths, so that the glasses can be arranged perfectly to concentrate and maximise the emitted heat. Or, to put it more bluntly” - here the smile returned, but in a pained form - “it burns people. Let us hope it burns the undead just as well.”

(https://i.imgur.com/CZ4eBeV.jpg)

“Unlike my previous creation, this is no automaton, for it requires a team of draught animals to pull it, with all their inherent weaknesses. In truth, the work was done in great haste, which seemed to please Father Carradalio and his strange companions more than care or craftsmanship would.”

“They have found good, strong horses, maestro, and armoured them well.”

(https://i.imgur.com/n1dqHnj.jpg)

“Well they might,” said Angelo, the bitterness plain in his voice. “For they killed all those left in the city who might otherwise have had the skill to ride them.”

(https://i.imgur.com/WLTYh8D.jpg)

Marsilio could see the maestro’s anguish and thought it best to speak an appropriate prayer.

“Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine: et lux perpetua luceat eis,” he intoned, quietly.

“Amen,” Angelo said. “I see you know these dedicants exactly for what they are. I confess, I was too afraid to be there today. I thought only to spend some time here, in contemplation, hoping their present satisfaction would mean I was undisturbed. Yet, my part in all this weighs on me. Tell me, what else did you see?”

“They chanted as they accompanied the machine, carrying a holy relic before it …

(https://i.imgur.com/sao55tI.jpg)

… and a ragged banner behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/VrDZOJM.jpg)

I saw it pass down the Via del Marcutto, the entire street lined with dedicants.

(https://i.imgur.com/b61IXpY.jpg)

Father Carradalio himself watched it, standing upon the roof of the Cappella dei Santo Corvo.

(https://i.imgur.com/QWhbvtn.jpg)

His Admonitor was beside him. His hooded guards behind."

“That is all?” asked Angelo. “They hauled it through the streets. Nothing more?”

Marsilio could not fathom what concerned the maestro. “Just that.”

“Good. Would that I could ensure it was only ever used upon Remas’s enemies.”

Now Marsilio understood. The Maestro felt guilt about gifting such an engine of war to such a faction.

A smile, tinged with regret, returned to Angelo’s face. “Brother, what exactly have you come to ask of me?”

“The arch-lector wants you to leave the city with me. He believes your place is with the true army of Remas, the true church of Morr, and not with an unsanctioned, schismatical and rebellious fraternity of thugs. Remas and Tilea stand upon the brink of destruction, and the fate of every living soul is in the balance. Carradalio and his fanatics are a symptom of these terrible times. They are not the cure.”

“And yet,” interrupted Angelo, “they possess a faith strong enough to make them fearless in battle, and would to die to a man facing any monstrous foe. I myself witnessed their kind in battle at Ebino. Our horse fought bravely, but were finally overwhelmed and fled. Knights, Arabyans, even elves, all galloped pell-mell from the field. Not the flagellants - they strode boldly forth to plung deep into the foe. Not one turned to run. And this was done when the battle was surely lost. They feared neither death nor defeat.”

“Does such martydom win wars?” asked Marsilio. “Their flagellatory frenzies mean that even in victory they suffer terrible losses. And when they look to replenish their ranks, they will discover the realm they themselves ravaged has very little left to offer. I do not doubt they could win a battle. But the war?”

“You have just seen their host swarming on the streets, certainly sufficient to field an army. Everyone knows they are capable of terrible and bloody cruelties. Whatever horrors they face, and whatever horrible deeds they themselves must commit, they will not falter.”

“But do they have the military discipline and cunning to gain victory in a war? Do they even remember Myrmidia’s name? I grant you, their numbers have swollen. Yet to achieve this they have wreaked havoc, divided Remas, slaughtered the best citizens, and destroyed much in the way of industry and husbandry. And all this they did while the ogres burned Stiani.”

“Well, no one can doubt their fervour. They’re willing to do anything for the love of Morr. Father Carradalio seems filled with the spirit of Morr.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ceGk4XX.jpg) 

“As is the arch-lector,” countered Marsilio. “Perhaps Carradalio even hears the same words when Morr whispers in his dreams? But there is a great difference between the praepositus generalis and the arch-lector. Both have accepted Morr’s command to act, immediately and decisively. In this they are the same. But what his holiness has done in response to that call is not at all the same. As Carradalio fermented civil upset, his holiness led armies against foul foes. As the Disciplinati stirred Sagrannalian schisms, the church’s true clergy inspired soldiers to face almost certain death fighting monsters. For every riot Carradalio’s followers instigated, for every massacre they inflicted, the Reman army fought vampires, ogres and monsters. Carradalio watched the streets of Remas and Palomtrina run with the blood of innocents, while his holiness rode sword in hand at Pontremola, at Viadaza and upon the Via Diocleta. The Disciplinati di Morr have inflicted their frenzied fury upon the weak, while the army of Remas stood firm and faithful, even unto death, against the true foe. You yourself were at Viadaza and Ebino.”

Angelo was not smiling now. He stared into space, at a sight his memory had conjured for him. “Father Carradalio fears what is coming. I know what is coming,” he said.

“As does his holiness. Carradalio, in his own way, thinks to prepare Remas for the fight ahead. But the army, his holiness, yourself, are already in the fight, and have been for a long time. Remas must made strong if it is to survive, by fostering unity, not division. Soldiers, militia, priests and brothers must serve together, under one command, otherwise disorder and disharmony will lead to destruction.”

“And how would that unity be achieved? Is the army to fight the Disciplinati? There’s disorder. And only more destruction.”

“Carradalio holds Remas in his grip. If he took it in the hope of saving it, then there is still hope. If his true intention is tyrannical rule, Remas’ ruin is certain. His holiness cannot accept Carradalio’s secular authority, no matter how complete - not unless the Overlord Matuzzi personally, and whilst under no form of duress whatsoever, asks him to do so.”

“That’s unlikely,” said Angelo. “I was allowed to tend the overlord’s injuries after they took him hostage. However old and frail he might be, there’s spirit enough left in him to hate Carradalio for what he has done.”

“No matter,” said Marsilio. “Even without the overlord’s blessing, his holiness is willing to accept Carradalio’s authority over his own followers.”

“Despite all he has done?”

“Only a fool would refuse the Disciplinati’s fighting strength and fervour in this time of need. All Carradalio need do is declare his obedience to the orthodox and Holy Church of Morr, bending his knee to Morr’s anointed pontiff.”

“And just like that, all his past transgressions will be forgiven?”

The maestro was being facetious, but Marsilio chose to ignore the fact. “And the praepositus generalis and his dedicants will be declared to be true servants of Morr, accepted into the fold of the church, that they might pursue exactly that which it they have always declared to be their sole, true purpose – to defeat the evil foe.”

“So why am I to come with you now?” asked Angelo.

“In case it all goes wrong,” said Marsilio.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on February 20, 2018, 02:32:35 PM
Awwww, yesss... More good stuff from Padre. Awesome looking boards, Christ... this is simply kick-ass. :blush:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on February 21, 2018, 04:42:45 PM
F’ing incredible. Where’s and when is the book?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on February 24, 2018, 04:00:59 AM
So I've wished to ask you, Padre, something for sometime, love your work and your whole campaign but I am just curious at a bit of background. So my own convention from WHFRP sources and such are that Vampire Counts always try and seek out on there own way as the every living nobles that "Aristocracy of the Night" if you will. Is the Undead evil in the campaign based on that the Undead Countess wants to make a religion on Nagash since she knows no better and was not 'properly educated' as a get to a real house or do you imagine that Undead want to venerate Nagash?

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 24, 2018, 07:35:40 AM
Interesting question. Complicated answer. The Vampire Duchess Maria is a player character and so (a) I cannot know exactly what her plans, intentions, goals are (b) if I did know (or suspect) I would have to be very careful about how I include them in the stories. I usually have non player characters giving their opinions of such matters like commanders' motives etc. That way I am not revealing a player's actual intentions, as that would damage the 'reality' of the game-world, the competitive aspect of the campaign. Some players don't mind, like Father Carradalio's player, as they see the campaign as a way to create a story, but others would mind. Some players meet me half way and we do certain stories, at certain times, revealing certain things!

In this case the leader of the Church of Nagash, father Biagino, is an NPC, and so I get much more control over him (even if he is entranced by his new mistress). Lots of factors went into him becoming the vampire he is.

First, as he featured in the first ever campaign story, I wasn't keen to lose him from the campaign. Normally my hand is forced - if a character dies (usually on the tabletop) then they're dead. It's like the abruptness of some characters' departures from 'Game of Thrones'. But in this case I had an option as I knew that the duchess would be resurrecting at least some of the dead on the field of battle for her new forces, and wondered if Biagino would be, and in what form. After the second battle of Ebino the player and I chatted as we packed up, and he liked the idea of making his (the duchess's) own mockery of the duchess's particular enemy, the church of Morr. The official church, the schismatical sects and the crazy, flagellating cults, all hate the undead, and strive to fight/thwart/prevent the undead, each with their own particular methods. Daz (the player) liked the idea of Morrites facing their own kind in undead form, proving their god cannot always save them! I liked the idea because of the story possibilities (and keeping Biagino as a protagonist in the story) as well as the modelling and painting possibilities.

But all this doesn't tell us for certain what Maria's motives are. Is she mocking the church of Morr? Is she trying to retain some quality the cultists possessed in life, so that they fight better than ordinary zombies? (This is in fact the case in rules-terms: I've run some slightly modified rules by the players, as I always do, as campaign rules for the Disciplinati di Nagash, and also for the vampire thralls serving Biagino, who are stat and ability-wise somewhere between vampire hero and blood knight.) Or has she found some sort of religion?

Another, in this case very game related, factor in the creation of the undead church, was to do with a sort of fairness and balance in the game = which I don't strive for at all in the sense of the balance of 'league' type campaigns, but I do think about in general terms. When the arch-lector Calictus II died the player was suddenly 'out of the game'. Whenever this happens, we work out a way of getting them back into the campaign as someone else, most usually part of the same realm or force. BUT I do always make the process challenging. In this case the player 'came back' only controlling a powerful cult in Remas, not the official church, nor the city state's army, nor even the secular nobility. And thus the civil strife  that wracks the realm of Remas just now - the realm is a mess. However, I did in effect gift the player an army (the cultists) which was not created in the normal, official-rules manner (to do with supply points and size of settlements, etc). This seemed appropriate as the army was an odd one (flagellants) arising from religious fervour and not built by the usual economic means.

Realising I had just created an extra enemy army for the Duchess, I wondered whether there should be some sort of compensation. And here it is! I took Daz's idea for a mockery of the church and ran with it, creating (including the kit bashing and painting) a force of undead flagellants who were not paid for using the usual rules, but which arose out of the story. Maria now has her own boost in fighting forces.

I did not have to do it. Sometimes the better story would come from the agonising demise of a force, or a desperate defence against the odds. Much of the time we just stick to the RAW for a better gaming experience. Occasionally I modify and tweak the rules to make the game world more real, believable (in a fantasy way), more alive.

Most tweaks come from the player's asking "Can I .... ?". And in a nutshell, that's what happened with the Church of Nagash.

I shall stop here because I could go on and on about the ins and outs of it all. Hopefully you get the picture. Now, I have some Estalian mercenaries to model and paint, a new story with dwarfs to write (figures painted, photos done), a small army of Bretonnians to paint, several meetings with players to arrange (to discuss their situations, new orders etc), and much, much more. I think I'll finish the dwarf story first.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 24, 2018, 02:57:18 PM
Thanks for the explanation. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on February 27, 2018, 12:51:10 AM
Cheers Padre, most informative.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 02, 2018, 04:54:09 PM
The End of Spring, IC2403

(Now edited to correct a geographical mistake.)

Note: Jamie (the player of Razger Boulderguts) DO NOT read this post. Everyone else in the world can, but you cannot!

(https://i.imgur.com/oYUV2Bx.jpg)

5. Karak Borgo


King Jaldeog III of the dwarven mountain realm of Karak Borgo was not the most imposing of dwarfs. His beard looked the part, the very essence of a royal chin ornament, being suitably grey and cultivated to a width almost twice that of his head. Not that his head was small, but a size perfectly satisfactory for dwarven royalty. In particular, his nose could hold its own, a proboscis to be proud of, which indeed he was. It was the rest of him that let things down, for he was almost as short as a full-grown dwarf can be (if such backwards reasoning makes any sense), making his companion, his chancellor Obor Darkforge, seem quite massive in comparison. Even seated upon his throne, which raised his majesty’s feet a good foot and a half above the ground, his head was no higher than Darkforge’s.

(https://i.imgur.com/SIMwulw.jpg)

Perhaps this was why Jaldeog favoured somewhat humble attire, unlike most other dwarven monarchs? No golden crown for him, nor even a horned-helm edged with silver filigree. No armoured plates of engraved mithric, nor even a cloak trimmed with the shaggy fur of some legendary beast. Instead, upon his head he wore a simple cloth cap, and his armour was an entirely unadorned mail shirt. Did he believe he would look ridiculous in the garb of a hero? If it were ever possible to encounter him alone upon a mountain path, a stranger would presume him to be a mere old soldier, and of the lowliest kind. As he himself was fond of joking, he was not mutton dressed as lamb, but lamb dressed as mutton.

Two braziers smouldered behind him, the warmth of which gently penetrated his stone throne, warming his royal arse. He fiddled with his pipe and belt bag of tobacco, both being companions even more constant than Darkforge. Before him stood his two most important thanes, Asgrod Steelshaper and Narhak Thundersword, and the master of the watch, Vagroth Ashhelm. Chancellor Darkforge had summoned them to be questioned concerning matters military and political, especially the progress of the plan to re-open the iron road trade route by defeating the wizard Lord Niccolo of Campogrotta and his army of ogri.

After a sniff, a cough, and some more fiddling with the spent ash in the bowl of his clay pipe, the king eventually spoke.

“The Bretonnian. Let’s start with him, eh?”

Vagroth, Master of the Watch, answered. “My liege, word has come concerning the force he commands. As you yourself suspected, it is not impressive.”

“Nor is his claim to Campogrotta,” said Asgrod, Thane of Deephall.

“True,” said the king. “But if the king of Bretonnia has given his blessing, that lends respect to his name in the realms of men. I won’t go to all this effort only to have the humans entangled in a civil war afterwards. As long as he’s a legitimate contender, I’m happy to have him as an ally.”

“The Ravolan way has always been that might is right,” said Vagroth. “They fight tourneys to decide upon a new lord. Baron Garoy is not what anyone would call ‘mighty’.”

The king gave a sound, half snort, half laugh, dropping some of the tobacco he had been stuffing into his pipe. “He doesn’t have to be mighty. Not if there’s no-one else to fight the tourney. No-one of consequence, anyway. Once Ravola is taken, he’ll rule long enough to make a start putting things back the way they were. That’s all we need.”

“He promised much more, my liege, than what he brings,” said Vagroth. “He has merely a handful of mounted men-at-arms, the rest of his company being only the Brabanzon mercenaries we paid for, archers and spearmen, a villainous looking lot too.”

“We don’t need him to bring a big army. Our own gold has bolstered his meagre force sufficiently. Besides, we have even more mercenaries - a whole army of them!”

King Jaldeog fixed his eyes on Narhak, Thane of Dravaz, who was now standing by the thane of Deephall. Both thanes held hammers in their hands, the first a warhammer of iron, the second a large mallet of oak. The latter was an ancient and magically blessed artefact gifted by the elves of Tettoverde Forest to Narhak’s father during an old alliance against the Skaven. It had no runes inscribed on it, nor a scrap of iron, steel or even brass about it, and yet it could break stone, and had once killed three goblins with one swing. The fact Narhak was proud to bear an elven-made weapon marked him out as unusual amongst dwarfs. He was stubborn enough to ignore the petty slights – apart from direct insults of course. His unusual link to the elves was the very reason he had been ordered to take command of affairs to the south.

(https://i.imgur.com/ShFRQy6.jpg)

“What news, Narhak, of the Compagnia?” asked the king. “Are they bringing what they promised?”

“They have crossed the sea,” answered the thane, “and landed all that was promised, perhaps more. The crossing was not easy, for the ships’ captains are somewhat reluctant to venture into those waters, what with the war against the zangrunaz duchess, and more sightings of thagorakki vessels.”

“Wisht, Narhak,” ordered the king. “I’ve enough to think about with these ogri. Let’s deal with one problem at a time, starting close to home, eh? We can contend with the undead abominations and the scuttling horde later.” The king seemed to have forgotten his pipe. “Will the mercenaries reach Campogrotta before Razger returns?” he asked.

“They’re upon the march, by way of Scorccio,” said Thane Narhak. “I know not how they intend to get past the zangrunaz’s forces. I suggested they use the same way Boulderguts used when travelling south. He avoided entanglement with the undead.”

“Ah,” said Darkforge, “but that might be because of an alliance between the zangrunaz duchess and the wizard lord.”

“That may be, but the route will keep them some distance from Ebino,” said Narhak. “Granted, it will take them longer to skirt wide enough, my liege, but I reckon they can get here unmolested. My own rangers report it is very quiet along the Tarano and the Bellagio, and both rivers are low for the time of year. Tettoverde is quiet too. I suggested to the rangers that they might lead the army through the forest as there is an ancient path from where the Bellagio bends north up to Tarano Keep.”

“Well and good,” said the king. “But I ask again. Will they get to Campogrotta before Boulderguts?”

Narhak hesitated, so it was Thane Asgrod who answered,

“No-one can promise that, my liege. The news from the south is confused. The ogri appear to be almost everywhere, the zangrunaz everywhere else. But by your leave, my liege, might I suggest that perhaps the mercenaries do not need to beat Boulderguts in the race? From all the reports it seems the ogri have rampaged far and wide, burning a wide swathe of destruction upon their … what was the word Baron Garov used … ‘chevauchee’, aye. Boulderguts has done this without reinforcements from Campogrotta. If any such had left the city our rangers would have seen them – the ogri are not exactly quiet, nor sneaky. And no more ogri have come through the Appucinni passes. Boulderguts has fought several battles, no doubt enriching himself considerably in the process, but each time he fought his force must have dwindled. It is reported his hireling, Mangler, is dead, and both ogri armies have been severely mauled. Between our own warriors, the Condottierri Mazallini’s soldiers and whatever Baron Garov brings, we can surely defeat whatever force he limps back with. And if …”

“Ah,” interrupted the king, prompting Asgrod to fall silent, “yet is it certain we can defeat both him and the forces his master Lord Niccolo has at Campogrotta?”

At first, no-one spoke, and the king took the opportunity to put his pipe to his mouth, having forgotten it was not yet lit.

(https://i.imgur.com/WKCAGJO.jpg)

“Can we not destroy them piecemeal, my liege?” asked Asgrod.

“Aye, likely so,” said the king somewhat nonchalantly. “That means we must ensure they do not join forces.” He held his hand to his mouth, as if pondering, but also perhaps signalling that the others should remain silent as he did so. “Best to begin with Boulderguts’ army. Defeat him first, at some remove from Campogrotta. If instead we besiege the city and the work becomes protracted, that could give bloody Boulderguts all the time he needs to return. Then we’d face them all, front and rear. Defeat Boulderguts first and we shall have all the time we need to take the city.”

There was nodding and a murmur of agreement from all those gathered. The king took the opportunity to rummage for more tobacco from his pouch and to further pack his pipe’s voluminous bowl. He may have been small for a dwarf, but he made up for it by doing nothing by halves. When he slept, he slept several hours longer than most. When he ate, he feasted upon sufficient to satisfy two. And when he smoked, he liked to send fumes curling into every nook and cranny of the hall.
 
At last, Darkforge noticed what the king was doing and stepped up to take the pipe to the brazier. While he did so the king leaned forwards upon his throne and asked,

“Besides what’s at Campogrotta, what forces does Lord Nicolo have elsewhere?”

“Nothing much, my liege” said Vagroth, “and that only in Ravola.”

(https://i.imgur.com/7wzUaQc.jpg)

“Are you certain?”

“Those few Ravolans who escaped into the mountains looking for succour …”

“Which alone shows how desperate they were!” interrupted Darkforge.

“Aye. Well,” continued Vagroth, “those that did told us there are very few ogri at what remains of Ravola. My rangers report that the ogri ate almost everything, man and beast, and stole all else of worth.”

The king was nodding. “Which would be why there’s little in the way of forces there. Why bother to garrison in strength if there’s nothing left to guard?”

“It is not entirely abandoned,” said Vagroth. “I reckon they left a company or two simply to keep an eye on the Nuvolonc Pass.”

“Didn’t they destroy the fortress at Maratto?” asked the king.

“They did, my liege, so they now garrison Ravola instead. I have warned Baron Garov, and ordered my rangers to bring him another way. Should be easy enough in summer. They could probably defeat what few ogri are there but then we would lose the element of surprise.”

Again the hall fell quiet, as King Jaldeog drank in the first pull of smoke from his pipe. Having released a pleasantly coiled cloud, he asked,

“If there’s an alliance between the zangunaz duchess and Lord Niccolo, then Boulderguts might be reinforced upon his return journey. Or perhaps the wizard lord will call upon his allies to relieve him of our seige?”

“My liege,” said Darkforge, “would even he invite the likes of her foul followers to his realm?”

Vagroth raised his hand and spoke.

“Some say that Lord Niccolo is a zangunaz himself, which is why he stays so hidden, and why he has lived so long. If so, he might have his own undead forces, and would not forbear inviting such into his realm.”

“As far as we know,” said Narhak, “the ogri and this zangunaz have not fought side by side before. The reports of their alliance are but speculation, never mind the claims that he himself is undead.”

“Aye,” added Vagroth. “That’s true. The ogri even fought against the zangunaz Adolfo at Viadaza.”

(https://i.imgur.com/Nx1tzbA.jpg)

“That may well have been trickery,” offered Asgrod. “Lulling their real enemies into a false sense of security, while they planned their great raid. If they had not been slaughtered by the army uprising at Viadaza, they most likely would have turned against their Reman ‘allies’, perhaps an act of assassination, or treachery at a crucial moment in battle?”

“We shall assume nothing,” said the king, authoritatively. “And we shall act quickly. Our warriors must be ready to march as soon as the Bretonnian arrives. We’ll march to meet the mercenaries, and if we cannot get to them first then we’ll pincer the enemy between us.”

There were ‘Ayes’ all around.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on March 07, 2018, 01:11:31 PM
Love the dorfs! Excellent work Padre. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on March 07, 2018, 01:21:52 PM
Superb! :icon_biggrin: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Il Condottiero on March 09, 2018, 02:31:17 PM
Stirring work, as always.

I am particularly fond of the references to the poor, short dwarven king, standing at height of his stewart while sitting on his mighty throne!

You inspire me into posting up my own Warhammer campaings in the Old World, Padre!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 10, 2018, 08:06:20 PM
Thanks guys. I shall peruse your own thread asap, Il Condottiero. Meanwhile, next installment ...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The End of Spring, IC2403

6. They were going the other way!
Near Scorccio, central Tilea


(https://i.imgur.com/lM2zsc8.jpg)

As always, they were riding a little way ahead of the army, scouting out the intended route. Being the Compagnia’s fastest troops, well-mounted but lightly armoured, it had always been their job to act as outriders and scouts, and they had done so a hundred times in Estalia. Here, however, back in their own homeland, it was different. The razed villages were familiar enough, for such destruction was to be found anywhere a war was being fought, and there was no shortage of ruins: barely a plank of sawn wood that was not charred, nor any door that was still fitted properly to its hinges. It was how they felt that was different. Back in Estalia they were searching, unsurprisingly, for Estalians. Here, however, they were scouring the terrain for signs of brute ogres or the foul servants of vampires, both of which were very different prospects compared to your average Estalian - the stuff of nightmares made real.

The company’s ensign, whose guidon bore the Compagnia del Sole’s Myrmidian emblem, was up at the front with the sergeant, while the rest of the company rode loosely in pairs behind. Apart from the ruins, the land was otherwise green and pleasant, what with it being late Spring, but eerily quiet, there having been no sound of birdsong, or ought else, for the last quarter of an hour. Dotted along the route were several copses of trees and one or two good sized woods, and the sergeant insisted on riding close to each to see what might lurk there, which meant they were tacking their way through the valley like a flotilla attempting to sail close to the wind. Twice now they had turned almost back on themselves because the sergeant had noticed a clump of trees they had earlier missed. This was a level of caution the sergeant had never exhibited in Estalia, and although he tried to hide his nervousness, his actions very clearly advertised his true state of mind. There was one good thing about their exertions – at least the journey back should prove a short one, as not only was the army itself moving up behind, but they could return by a straighter, and much shorter, course.

Amongst their number rode Ramondo Pisani upon his dun-coloured mare Pulce. For the last half an hour or so he had been deep in thought, allowing Pulce to much of the work following the rest of the company. He wasn’t the only quiet one – just about everyone else had been silent for some time, the only sounds being the dull thuddering of the horses’ hooves, the clattering of harness and trappings, and the occasional snapped command from the sergeant to wheel here or incline there. The quietness of the land had somehow pervaded them. It was not a peaceful sort of quiet, however, but ominous, imbuing them with a growing sense of foreboding.

Ramondo’s thoughts had definitely taken a darker turn. He had begun the day by waking from a dream about Gianetta. She had been laughing at him from her window in Urbimo, happy to see that he had returned as he promised, and that he now wore a cuirass of steel marking him out as a mounted man-at-arms. There had been some tomfoolery during breakfast concerning what Lazzero had said in his sleep, which had everyone laughing, and then there was the need to harness Pulce and prepare for the ride. Almost as soon as they had left the sounds of the camp behind, the rest of the army being tardy in their preparations for the march, Ramondo’s mind had begun a journey of its own. He began by pondering what the rocky realm of Campogrotta might be like, and whether they would be required to march into the mountains to the dwarven realm, but this soon turned into a contemplation of the enemies they might face along the way. Would the ogres be like the ones he had encountered before: huge, strong, clumsy, loud and sweaty, with a cruel streak and a taste for human flesh, yet mercenaries nevertheless? Or would they be wilder, crueller, and crazy in battle like the stories of the savage brutes from the eastern lands? Then he wondered whether they would have to face the undead before they even reached the ogres. It seemed they were attempting to stand well out from Viadaza and Ebino, taking the more direct route to Campogrotta, one without roads or even, for much of the way, paths. But as no-one knew exactly where the vampires’ forces were in the first place, the precaution was merely a best guess strategy.

If only to distract himself, for a while he had joined in his comrades’ conversation, limited as it was to occasional shouted jokes and jibes. They talked of events in Urbimo: of the women, the drinking, the gaming, but then someone said something about an old Urbiman grandmother begging them to stay, to keep her family from falling into hell, and their enthusiasm for the topic paled, then died. Then they talked of the sea journey from Estalia, of the sea sick pig sliding around the deck in its own vomit, and the flying fish that knocked the flux-ridden Donnino from the head into the sea, his pants left dangling behind, but then someone mentioned the shadowy ships seen at night and the eerily threatening shout, part chirruping, part squealing, that came from the darkness and once again the conversation died. When someone mentioned the vampire duchess, they were met by immediate silence, which became prolonged and so toppled Ramondo back into his own gloomy thoughts.

(https://i.imgur.com/izQECD6.jpg)

That was when Ramondo noticed the smoke in the large wood to their left. Someone up at the front shouted,

“Have a care! Fire!”

Everyone looked, their trotting pace slowing a little, but then someone else declared,

“No, it’s fog.”

Ramondo knew immediately that something was not right. It was surely too late in the morning for fog to appear. They had seen no sign of it until now. Besides, why was there no fog in any of the other copses they could see?

As they rode on, nearly every face turned to the fog.

(https://i.imgur.com/rAopMHx.jpg)

“That ain’t natural,” said Arrigo, riding just ahead of Ramondo. “That’s wizardry, or elves.”

“I pray you’re right,” said Franceso, from behind. “For if it ain’t, then its necromancy!”

“Necromancers don’t summon fogs, they summon the dead,” argued Arrigo.

Ramondo rolled his eyes, wishing Arrigo wouldn’t talk about summoning the dead. It could not be good luck to mention such things.

“I don’t know,” said Francesco. “They mess with the etheric winds, which makes all sorts of funny stuff happen, not just what was intended. Remember that time Albiete tried to conjure fire against the crossbowmen on the walls of Vizeaya and burned half the …”

“Keep your eyes peeled!” barked the sergeant. “Ramondo, Francesco – rear-guard!”

Ramondo pulled on Pulce’s reins to slow her down, as did Francesco, and they fell back to the rear of the little column.

“It’s always us!” complained Francesco. “You and your nimble eyes, and me to look after you.”

Ramondo managed a wink, as if untroubled by the situation, and then set about scouring the tree line.

The fog thinned then thickened, then thinned again, giving Ramondo hope that it might not be so sinister at all. Maybe it had rolled down the slopes of the hill to the north, a heavy cloud grown too tired to remain aloft? The thinning never lasted, however, and each time it thickened up they slowed a little, falling incrementally further behind the others. He narrowed his eyes to peer into the misty gloom of the trees. If he had allowed his imagination to run wild he could have seen anything he liked in there, for the branches stretched, bent and criss-crossed to fashion up all sorts of possibilities: there a huge face with ragged holes for eyes, and there a man kneeling in prayer before a rock. Each image was momentary, as Pulce trotted on and the branches no longer played their trick.

Then he saw two grinning faces, looking right back at him. They were white like the fog, misshapen, imperfect representations of human faces. Grown used to the playfulness of the branches and their shadows he looked with simple curiosity at first, but this changed quickly into fear, for these faces did not melt away with his motion, and indeed they had a motion of their own. They were not imperfect due to the lie of the branches and the fronds upon them, but due to their lack of flesh! Worse still, there were bodies below the faces, weapons in their hands and bony horses to carry them.

(https://i.imgur.com/Xj31xEc.jpg)

Ramondo felt his body weaken in fright, his insides seeming to shrink, his grip upon the reins threatening to loosen. Pulce could not have noticed, for she ran on like before, but when she sensed the change in Ramondo, her stride faltered a little. He could not speak, being only able to watch as he rode one way and they the other. Their heads turned to keep their eyeless sockets fixed upon him, and as they moved into a thinner patch of fog he realised there were more than two of them. Their mounts wore barding of an ethereal hue, and flecks of green fire speckled both their weapons and bony bodies.

(https://i.imgur.com/eNgbGKj.jpg)

Coming to his senses – at least all those he could muster – he spurred Pulce on, and began to gallop towards the rest of the company.

“What is it?” shouted Francesco, as he joined the gallop. “What’s wrong?”

Ramondo’s answer was merely to gallop faster. He had to tell the others, and quick. The vampire duchess’s servants were much, much closer than anyone had thought!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on March 13, 2018, 02:08:25 PM
What kind of filter did you use? It looks really neat, especially with all the un-living stuff going on here. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 13, 2018, 05:32:29 PM
I got the bluey-green hue to the light in the first photos by putting some coloured plastic over the lamp shade. I got the fog effect the same way I got the smoke effect for the Viadaza burning stories - steam from a steam iron, pressed with one hand while the other hand tries to simultaneously take pictures with a camera! I employ very primitive techniques!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on March 13, 2018, 09:59:47 PM
The primitive ways evidently still work! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on March 14, 2018, 01:59:52 PM
The simplest methods are usually the best. Great work. :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Il Condottiero on March 14, 2018, 04:34:27 PM
There is a whole artistry feeling to such methods!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 13, 2018, 06:11:24 PM
The End of Spring, IC2403

7. Mangled Facts


(https://i.imgur.com/dgnFYQR.jpg)

“They didn’t slurp it all then?” said Frokkit, peering into the topless barrel whilst clutching his vicious billhook as a support. His spiked helmet threatened to topple in, but he lifted his head back up just before it did.

(https://i.imgur.com/cOR5kY6.jpg)

“No, they didn’t,” said Pooshin. “Didn’t even touch these.” He nodded towards the two on the ground and the one still on the wagon. “Too busy draining them big ‘uns we got from the last place. But they’ll get around to these soon enough, so best not get any ideas.”

Whichever ogre had drunk from the open barrel the previous night hadn’t troubled himself to broach it in the normal manner, instead smashing the head in to leave wooden splinters floating on the unfinished ale inside. Frokkit dipped a finger in, then sucked the sticky beer off, making that particular digit fractionally less grimy than the rest.

“Tasty,” he announced. “You know, I reckon they won’t want this one, not now it’s already opened. An’ if we put it on the cart it’ll just slosh and spill all o’er the place.”

Cornyclipper nodded, an action made all the more noticeable by his heavy nose, and flapping ears.

“You gotta point there, Frokkit. Better to drink it up ourselves than let it go to waste.”

“Puddles in our bellies instead o’ puddles on the road,” said his friend Furnip from beneath the huge ogre’s club he carried upon his bent back.

(https://i.imgur.com/EIutq5J.jpg)

Silence descended as they all pondered the proposition. They knew not to rush into any act of thievery without proper consideration. Carelessly light-fingered gnoblars did not tend to last long in the company of ogres. It was Frokit who eventually broke the silence.

“No-one’s lookin’,” he said. “They’re already on the move, leaving us gnobs to catch up as best we can. They’ve taken the big barrels. These little ‘uns are nought but tipply sips to them.”

“Aye,” said Furnip. “Nipper’s tipples.”

“We deserves our share,” said Cornyclipper. “We done Mangler good service, an’ Razger good service an’ all. The bosses had a right feasty reward last night, ’s only fair we have a drop or two too.”

“Aye,” said Furnip, his red eyes fixed in their peculiarly staring manner, but his voice getting louder. “A drop o’ tootoo.”

“I wish they hadn’t gobbled up the oxen, though,” said Cornyclipper. “Luggin this lump of a wagon ain’t gonna be easy.”

“Ah, won’t be as bad if we’ve a little ale inside us,” said Frokkit.

“Reckon so,” agreed Pooshin. “But we’ll drink after we’ve loaded the rest. That way the bosses’ll be even further ahead an’ a lot less likely to ogle us at it. Let’s not rush to load up neither. Best wait a while, just to be extra sure.”

As well as his memorably bulbous chin (which has been punched so often, whether deliberately or not, that he had long since lost all his front teeth) Pooshin had always been known for his cunning. All those present were happy to take his advice, so they all fell silent and stared at the barrel.

(https://i.imgur.com/v37m4Qy.jpg)

Some of them had belonged to Mangler’s band, some to Razger’s army, but now Razger ruled everyone, and although the ogres still marched in their old companies under their old banners, despite the change at the top, the gnoblars had become all mixed up together. The ogres could not care less whether their goblinoid servants formed companies, or even if they took part in the battles. The gnoblars, however, knew they needed strength in numbers if they were going to avoid their masters’ full cruelties. Not that they ever put up any sort of argument or fighting resistance, rather that they could lose themselves in the crowd making it impossible for the ogres to work out which of them was to blame for what. And in crowds they could usually rely on some other gnoblar to distract an angry ogre whenever they did became the focus of attention, hoping their masters’ attention would wane and they would go off to do something else. It usually did.

Frokkit, in an attempt to make the waiting a little more bearable, broke the silence.

“D’you see butcher Slabdul lording it up last night?” he said. “You’d think it was him who beat Krav in the duel, not Razger.”

“Maybe he did?” said Pooshin.

“Whatya mean?” scoffed Cornyclipper. “Razger almost cleaved Krav’s head clean off his shoulders, just a flappy bit of flesh left between. I was right up at the front, an’ I saw it plain as pain. Slabdul just stood and watched like me and the rest.”

“Maybe Slabdul put a curse on Krav?” suggested Pooshin.

(https://i.imgur.com/gU1RK4U.jpg)

“Nah!” said Cornyclipper. “I’ve seen him conjurating, an’ it’s a right old song and dance I tell ya, cutting up his own flesh an’ all. There was none of that last night. He just watched with a big grin on his face.”

“Puh!” snorted Pooshin. “O‘course he was grinning. He wanted Razger to win, an’ he knew that’s exactly what Razger was gonna do.”

Frokkit shook his head. “Not so sure about that. Krav had a chance. A good half of Mangler’s boys thought he could do it.”

“But did he ‘ave a chance, eh? Did he really?” asked Pooshin. “Maybe Slabdul put a curse on him before the fight? Maybe he slipped some foul nastiness into his meat or drink?”

“Magic grediants and wicked wot nots,” suggested Furnip, looking even more wild eyed than usual.

(https://i.imgur.com/LTkF4ti.jpg)

“You reckon?” said Cornyclipper, his brow furrowed.

“Think about it,” demanded Pooshin. “He got given a big chunky share of the army’s loot after the duel. What was that for?”

“To stop him complaining like Krav did?” said Frokkit.

“No, it was a reward.”

“It was a reward,” said Murdle, who had until now held his tongue. “But not for cursing Krav. And not for poisonin’ him neither.”

“What for then?” Pooshin inquired. He knew Murdle of old, and had long since realised that Murdle had a grip on the ways of their masters that most gnoblars failed - often fatally - to attain.

“Think about it,” Murdle explained. “Krav was angry ‘cos when Mangler died Razger made Slabdul his second, not him.”

“Was a bit funny that,” agreed Pooshin.

“Not funny to Krav. He was next in line to Mangler. He should have become second when Mangler died.”

“We know,” said Frokkit in exasperation. “That’s what the fight was about.”

“Aye, the fight,” said Murdle. “But you’ve got things back to front in yer addled ‘ed. The fight was about butcher Slabdul being given command instead of Krav. The reward was already given.”

“No it wasn’t,” argued Pooshin. “Butcher Slabdul got his loot after Krav died.”

(https://i.imgur.com/FtdbrXA.jpg)

“The loot, aye, but he got the command before the fight. That was the reward. The loot was just some crackling fat to make the reward tastier.”

“You’re sayin’ Slabdul was rewarded for summat else?”

“I am saying that, ‘cos I knows it’s true. After the battle on the road, Mangler was mangled bad and badder, but I’ve seen ogres live through a lot worse ‘n that. I’ve seen gnobs get better from worse.”

“So?”

“It was Butcher Slabdul tended his wounds, see?”

Pooshin scratched at his chin. “He wouldn’t get a reward for being bad at healing. Makes no sense.”

Murdle simply looked at him and waited.

“Hang on …” said Pooshin as an idea squeeze its way into his thoughts. “You’re sayin’ he got a reward for making sure Mangler died.”

Murdle grinned, revealing his two longest teeth – both on the left . “Snitch here saw what happened,” he said as he turned to look at the smallest gnoblar present. “Didn’t ya Snitch? No ogres spot you Snitch, do they? Ye’r too small ain’t ya. But there’s eyes in that little head of yours. Tell ‘em, Snitch. Tell ‘em what you told me.”

(https://i.imgur.com/79irWAx.jpg)

Everyone looked at Snitch. Some were surprised to see him, having altogether failed to notice him until that moment.

“Old Mangler lay there sick and sore, big black bruises, skin all tore. But the butcher’s needle was a knife, an’ he stuck it in to end a life.” He had always had a sing-song way of talking.

“Sick, sore, skin all tore,” began Furnip.  “Needly knifey …”

“Stop yer gabblin’, Furnip!” ordered Pooshin, then fixed his eyes on Murdle. “You’re saying Slabdul killed Mangler?”

“If Mangler had a hundred cuts after the battle,” pronounced Murdle most sombrely, “he had a hundred and one after Slabdul’s attentions.”

Silence fell as they all thought about what they had learned. Until Pooshin piped up, that is.

“Makes no difference to us though, does it?” he said. “Don’t matter who’s boss, we still has to do what we’re told, and be snikkety quick about it.”

(https://i.imgur.com/I687knq.jpg)
 
“You’re not wrong. Best drink up then and get a move on loadin’ the rest” said Frokkit.

He swung his billhook over to stick the steel head into the ground, then thrust both hands into the ale to lift out a big, dribbly scoop.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on April 13, 2018, 08:58:26 PM
By the gods Padre! You’ve given life to the gnoblars. Very enjoyable read.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on April 25, 2018, 12:38:19 PM
By the gods Padre! You’ve given life to the gnoblars. Very enjoyable read.

Always loved Gnoblars. Found them much more interesting than the standard gobbos, TBH.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 05, 2018, 06:22:47 PM
The End of Spring, IC2403

8. Glammerscale and the Brabanzon


The wizard-dwarf Glammerscale had found his time in Karak Borgo irksome. Rather than complain, however, he had taken to announcing, in as breezy a tone as he could muster: “A change is as good as a break”.  Eventually, one of the mountain realm’s denizens summoned enough momentary curiosity to ask what he meant by this, to which he replied, “The difficulties here are, at least, different from those I had grown accustomed to.”

His questioner’s interest was, however, as fleeting as it was reluctant, and no further enquiry was forthcoming. Glammerscale allowed himself to enjoy the irony, for exactly such unfriendliness was part and parcel of the difficulties he alluded to.

As a dwarf living amongst the men of Tilea, he had faced suspicion and awkwardness on a daily basis. Indeed, as an inhabitant of Pavona, such attitudes had escalated into hatred, then outright hostility, until he and all the dwarfs dwelling there had been forced into exile. After that time, he had moved hither and thither across the peninsula, visiting several dwarfs he believed might help, first to Ridraffa, then to Remas, then to Urbimo. In every place there had been the same old, underlying wariness whenever a man encounters a dwarf. And then here, after the long and hazardous journey to the dwarfen realm of Karak Borgo, he found a new suspicion, no less strong.

As men were untrusting of dwarfs, dwarfs were untrusting of wizards. He had always known this, but on arrival in Karak Borgo he had learned just how deep such feelings could run, especially when the wizard in question was also a dwarf! He had believed his chosen profession a rarity amongst his kind, but it turned out to be entirely unknown. Upon declaring his occupation, he had been met with either with raucous laughter or visible disgust – at least until word got around. After that, few agreed to meet him at all!

Luckily, he had not travelled alone, but was accompanied by several other Pavonan exiles, including Gallibrag Honourbeard and his servant Norgrug. They, at least, knew him from old, were accustomed to his company and even counted him as a friend. His cousin Goldshin - a Tilean dwarf with whom the mountain dwellers had done very profitable business - had remained in Ridraffa, yet had sufficient repute in Karak Borgo to ensure Glammerscale had not been sent away. That repute, plus the presence of the wealthier exiles like Honourbeard, had gained the exiles an audience with the king and even an invitation to stay. Since then, the exiles had become willingly embroiled in King Jaldeog’s plans to re-open his trade routes into Tilea by defeating the brute army of Campogrotta. Having lived among men, their experience was recognised, their counsels heeded, their presence more obviously welcome. They themselves were playing a long game (something dwarfs have time to do) for once they had contributed in the restoration of Karak Borgo’s fortunes, they hoped for reciprocal assistance in restoring their own.

They had gone further than simply offering knowledgeable advice, for it was through them and their connections that the Estalian contingent of the Compagnia del Sole had been successively (and speedily) hired. Furthermore, it was their own monies that had been used to pay the advance payment to hire the Brabanzon mercenaries accompanying Baron Garoy into Tilea. Which was why Glammerscale, Honourbeard and Norgrug, along with several other exiles, now found themselves discussing contractual details with the northerner mercenaries upon the track that ran along the western slopes of the Vaults to join Karak Borgo’s Iron Road.

Glammerscale wore his green hat, leather travelling coat and peculiar red-tinged eye-glasses, and clutched his slightly crooked staff. Standing beside him was Gallibrag Honourbeard, having transformed from his former, urbane self into the very image of a wilderness ranger, with red, hooded cloak, heavy boots and a blue coat belted upon the outside. He leaned on an axe as tall as himself.

(https://i.imgur.com/PTWHPKU.jpg)

Honourbeard’s servant, Norbrug, had also adopted a novel fashion since his days as a clerk in Pavona. Now he considered himself first and foremost his master’s guard, and thus attired himself in chainmail and a helm. His axe was shorter than his master’s, somewhat proportionate to their respective heights. Glammerscale, although intrigued to know if his two companions had themselves noticed this fact, had successfully stopped himself pointing it out on several occasions.

The meeting took place at an abandoned mine-shaft – one of the many, diminutive, exploratory kind found throughout these hills, left to crumble if nothing of worth was discovered. The Brabanzon leader, Lodar ‘the Wolf’ de Sevole, had his lieutenants with him, whilst behind them a column of the company’s spearmen filed past at a jog. Lodar’s chancellor, who originally arranged the contract with the dwarfs, had called the band ‘Tard Venus’, which apparently meant they were considered brigands now that some war or other in the north had ended. He claimed they would be overjoyed to become soldiers (‘valets’ was the word he used) again, but one look told Glammerscale they were presently unhappy, which he now realised was most likely why they had called for this little rendezvous.

(http://i.imgur.com/2c4iGg6.jpg) (https://imgur.com/2c4iGg6)

The mercenaries were liveried in dark green and a muted yellow, wearing layers of armour a considered a little archaic by the men of Tilea. To dwarfs, who often wore armour of styles unchanged over centuries, it simply looked human. In truth, what with their faces almost hidden by their coifs, Glammerscale could barely tell the mercenaries apart. After brief introductions, the first to speak was Lodar, and he went straight to the point.

“We have heard you have employed other mercenaries for this venture. This was not made known when our contract was agreed, despite my chancellor’s questions regarding such matters. Who are these others? Under what terms to they serve?”

(https://i.imgur.com/e4hYuGF.jpg)

“Captain Lodar, I fail to see why this could be of any concern to you,” said Glammerscale. “Do you not want to be part of an army that will be victorious in battle? Such an outcome is much more likely if our strength is equal to the task.””

“Ha,” scoffed Lodar. “Victory is good. Spoils are better. We were promised the plunder of Campogrotta.”

“You were promised your fair share of the plunder,” said Glammerscale.

“Which we were led to believe meant sharing with the dwarfen army of Karak Borgo and the baron, not with however many other mercenaries you have also taken into your service.”

Another Brabanzon, clutching a large leather jack from which he had just taken a very hearty swig, interjected,

“Do you take us for fools? Do you think we Brabanzon will allow anyone to treat us with disrespect? To break promises made to us?”

There followed a moment of silence, which Glammerscale deliberately allowed so as not to appear in any way concerned with the mercenaries’ implied threat. The Brabanzon simply watched, neither speaking further nor moving.

(http://i.imgur.com/YAtVLhj.jpg) (https://imgur.com/YAtVLhj)

Eventually, Glammerscale gestured to Gallibrag’s servant.

“I think perhaps you are under a misapprehension. Master Norgrug here will explain the particulars, that you might better comprehend the due fairness of our transaction.”

“You will have exactly what was agreed, to the letter,” said Norgrug. After decades as a clerk he had studied the contract closely and understood all the details. “You knew full well there were other forces involved in this war, not merely our dwarven warriors and Baron Garoy’s men-at-arms, and you were promised one third of the plunder. Which is what you will receive.”

“How so?” demanded Lodar. “For even if it is only one other mercenary company that makes four parties to the agreement!”

(https://i.imgur.com/eH9GRat.jpg)

“You are correct,” said Norgrug.

“Three does not go into four!” said Lodar.

“Aah,” said Glammerscale, as if he had just had an insight. “Are you perhaps presuming each party has been contracted under the same terms?”

The cart had now trundled past, its draught horse, a rugged and stout pony, making good speed – enough to keep pace with the jogging spearmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/5916DKd.jpg)

Lodar looked askance at the dwarfs, his brow furrowed, then asked,

“Which party has been deprived of its share?”

Glammerscale smiled and looked over the top of his eyeglasses at the Brabanzon leader.

“Consider the parties involved, Captain” he suggested. “I believe that with a further moment’s thought you will deduce which it must be.”

It was the Brabanzon with the leather jack who answered, apparently speaking his thoughts as he put them together.

(https://i.imgur.com/oPZYUMR.jpg)

“The mercenaries, whoever they are, will want their pay and a share of the prize, this goes without saying. You dwarfs love your gold so much that you would never yield an opportunity to amass more of it, especially when you want to recover your already considerable outlay. So … it must be the baron. Yes?”

“You have it!” declared Glammerscale. “I see the ale has not deprived you of one jot of your wits.”

The comment seemed lost on the Brabanzon, but such a stumble in the conversation could not stop Glammerscale in his tracks.

“The Baron Garoy,” the wizard explained, “being of such noble blood, deemed it would disparage the stock from which he came to contract for a portion of plunder. He would never stoop so low. He has come to Tilea upon a chivalrous quest, to liberate the realm of Ravola. A hero such as he cares nothing for what happens to the wealth of Campogrotta.”

“Ha,” laughed Lodar. “The baron might proclaim such a thing, but how will he repair Ravola without the gold to pay for it?”

(https://i.imgur.com/6uGyarq.jpg)

“How indeed?” agreed Glammerscale. “Still, provided he possesses some proficiency in war, then he should serve our purposes perfectly. Whether or not he struggles during the subsequent peace is of little present concern.”

“Puh!” mocked the Brabanzon with the jack. “He rides like a boy at his first joust, and his battle experience comes from playing merelles.”

“Surely you exaggerate, sir, for comic effect” said Glammerscale. “Yet if true, then hopefully his keenness and the men who ride with him will make up for any inexperience.”

Lodar laughed. “Let the baron and his petite noblesse canter where they like when we lay siege to the city. It is we foot-soldiers who will have to dig the works and mount the guard. It is our arrows that will reach the monstrous foe in the towers, and our engines that will topple the parapets. And when the time is ripe, it is we who will climb the ladders and storm the gates. If Garoy joins us then he will be simply one among the many, and worth half of anyone of the rest. I know not whether these other mercenaries you have hired are capable of such things, but I know we are. We expect to be appropriately rewarded afterwards, as you promised.”

(https://i.imgur.com/dPdnmjB.jpg)

“Have no fear regarding that concern,” promised Norgrug. “I myself will ensure your accounts are settled exactly as agreed, and all will be done openly and fairly.”

“I would have it no other way,” added Glammerscale. “For such transparency will ensure no bitterness, no contention amongst those who have fought so bravely. The fighting will be done with, and all will be peace and prosperity, aye?”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 08, 2018, 01:06:35 PM
I'm so glad that you're still running this project. It's truly inspirational. :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on May 08, 2018, 03:30:41 PM
Wonderful, inspiring, simply amazing
 :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 08, 2018, 03:36:05 PM
Another enjoyable read. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on May 08, 2018, 08:28:07 PM
Top shelf Padre! Gaming at its best. 😺
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 17, 2018, 10:51:49 PM
Erm ... all the pictures are back, in this thread and all my other threads. Umpteen bat reps going back years, with anything from 5 to 50 photos per rep. In the region of 3000 photos!

Wow! Was it someone here or has Photobucket done it?

EDIT: Considering I have (since the photobucket madness last summer) edited and sometimes re-written nearly all these posts so that I could put them on my own website, should I now try to replace all the previous posts here with the edited versions? I think no, 'cos all the pictures could disappear instantly at Photobucket's whim, and besides all the edited versions (on the Oldhammer forum and my BigSmallWorlds website) have the wrong picture links. Changing 2000 links would be a very time consuming task indeed.

So, if you want to read a more readable version than the early part of this thread, see my website link below.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 18, 2018, 09:03:55 AM
A Letter from Antonio Mugello to my most noble Lord Lucca Vescucci of Verezzo

I pray to all the gods that you, my lord, are well and that the realm of Verezzo remains untouched by the brute hands that have so ravaged the city states to the north and north-east.

As I promised in my previous missive, I remained for a while in the proximity of Ridraffa in order to confirm the ogres had indeed crossed the River Riatti and marched northwards. Baring the unlikely decision to retrace their steps, it seemed to me that they were now homeward bound, and indeed that which I have learned since confirms this belief. If my estimation and understanding concerning this prove wrong, I beg that you forgive me. Rather than bide my time unnecessarily in such quiet ruins, I honestly believed that I would serve you better by learning what I could of the disturbances in Remas and the situation to the north.

Upon arrival in Remas I found all in turmoil, the realm having become divided. The Reman army was encamped at Frascoti, under the command of the arch-lector Bernado Ugolini, while the city itself remained in the hands of Father Carradalio’s fanatical Disciplinati di Morr. The Pavonan army sat between the two, as Duke Guidobaldo apparently busied himself with attempting to promote peace between the antagonistic factions. Yet neither the high church nor the low, if I might describe them thus, showed any sign of yielding, which sowed great fear amongst the Reman people, and many talked of civil war as if it were not only inevitable but had already begun. If indeed the Reman army does besiege the city (Remans within and Remans without), then it would likely be a long, drawn out business. On the one hand, the city walls are strong and the army weakened by its long fight against the undead and the ogres, while on the other hand the defenders are religious fanatics, not soldiers, and the army might be well supplied by Frascoti to the south.

Such is the madness of Remas, embroiled in a misery entirely of its own making as all the while its enemies grow stronger. The ogres may well have begun their homeward journey, battered and bruised by umpteen battles, but they are laden with plunder, grown fat from feeding upon man-flesh, and have left all behind them in ruin. I fear that now the vampires will follow in the Razger’s wake, eyeing such devastated places with their own intent, for what to us appears barren and burned, is as a feast laid out for them. We see only a wasted land, but they see rich pickings. They need no crops nor cattle, no water nor wine - they feed instead upon rotten remains, turning the very corpses into warriors for their armies. Who will prevent them from summoning legions from the graveyards and necropolises?

I chose not to linger in the daily-changing chaos and instead to travel further to the small city of Urbimo, the most northern bastion of the living along the western coast. Remas’ troubles are sad, and I prayed hard for the holy city’s redemption, but it is not Remas that threatens Verezzo, rather it is the enemy that has fuelled their madness - an enemy made more dangerous by the Remans’ spiralling weakness. The Morrite church is as divided as Remas, indeed it is the very cause of the citizens’ division. Morr's priests, the best placed to defend Tilea against the vampires, have by their own failings become worse than useless, squabbling murderously among themselves instead of preparing for the oncoming onslaught. How many will survive to stand against the undead?

I wished to learn what I could of the threat of the vampires, and where better than a place so close to their hellish domain? There I discovered the desperate depths to which men can sink when terrified, for the madness that grips Remas has also tainted this neighbouring realms. I had thought the recent bloody coup in Remas, when the Disciplinati seized the city from within, was bad, but the Urbimans have been driven to take even more terrible measures in pursuit of Morr’s holy protection. For years they had petitioned and begged Remas for military aid, yet none was forthcoming. They felt safe only for the few weeks when the Compagnia del Sole were lodged in their city. Once all the mercenaries had finally made the crossing from Estalia, however, they left to fulfil their contract for the dwarfs of Karak Borgo (being to assist in the war against the wizard-lord Nicolo of Campogrotta and his brutes – which may well be why Razger finally turned back). Since then, the Urbimans’ fear has swelled beyond sanity, for they know that the undead could come upon any night. And in that one night all will surely die, after which an even more terrible nightmare will unfold as they themselves become the vampires’ rotting, puppet-slaves.

Consequently, they too have cultivated a new religious fervour, beyond even the flagellating extremes of the Reman Disciplinati. They have dedicated themselves body and soul to Morr’s service and begun cleansing Urbimo of all they consider corrupted, and even some they believe are merely corruptible. They have turned against every practitioner of the magical arts, including the pettiest of conjurers - hedge wizards, alchemists, wise women, even tumblers and masters of legerdemain. All such who failed to flee have been put to death. The very day I arrived I witnessed the burning of a maid accused of nothing more than casting a cantrip meant to soothe a poorly child in her care, a deed twisted by the people’s fears into a wicked curse.

Thus it was I found myself amongst the gathered crowd, upon what would otherwise have been called a pleasant summer’s day, by an apple orchard in an othertime’s peaceful place, watching with horror as the deed was done.

(https://i.imgur.com/j30w0Kq.jpg)

Morrite priests officiated, turning suspicions and accusations into conviction and sentence, while cultists chanted their pain-prayers and jangled their chains. Although neither judge nor jury were present, the Barone Pietro Cybo attended with a handful of retainers, and along with his executioner lent a degree of lawful authority to the proceedings. He was somewhat transformed from the man I had met upon several occasions previously, clad in armour atop his horse, his expression stern as he waved aloft a Morrite catechism. Beside him his brother Carlo and several gentlemen looked on inscrutably, having perhaps grown accustomed to such horrors?

(https://i.imgur.com/471kgKH.jpg)

On all the other occasions I have met with him, twice in Remas and twice before here, the Barone has been a man of scholarly patience and shrewd wit. I know, my lord, that you and he have corresponded concerning matters political and philosophical, for he himself told me so, with evident satisfaction. And yet this time he seemed not even to see me, despite looking directly at me several times. As you ordered me always to write honestly concerning what I witnessed, then I will say that despite his past friendship with you, in truth he seemed no less gripped by frenzy than the wildest of the populace, and although he did not go so far as to lash his own flesh as the dedicants do, his wide-eyes and fixed expression belied a state of mind no less frantic with fear and hate.

The charge was read by a confessor, imbued with such disgust as to make the wench’s action sound like infanticide, or worse, like she had been party to necromantic machinations intended to transform the child into a very devil.

(https://i.imgur.com/lErJU0P.jpg)

Beside the priest, and throughout his cruel speech, a hooded acolyte pointed at the poor wench, as if to drill the accusations deep into her soul. In Urbimo, any and all magic, any prayer, either thought or spoken (unless to Morr Supreme) has become an abhorrence. Every such deed is supposed to be the first step on the slippy slope to damnation, cutting a chink into the bulwark of Morr’s most holy blessing, exposing our mortal souls to the first caress of the vampires.

As the crime was detailed, exhaustively, a Morrite monk interjected with encouragements and lessons for the crowd, raising his hands now and then to call on Morr’s blessing and protection. His words, even his merest glance, elicited a flurry of Morrite gestures from those gathered.

(https://i.imgur.com/P6eddnh.jpg)

And none amongst the watchers spoke, neither to cry out shame on her or shame on those accusing her. There were no jeers nor any tears. Never before have I seen a crowd behave in such a way at a public execution.

All the while, in between her sobs, the poor wench tied to the post prayed aloud as best she could to Morr, begging his forgiveness and pleading that Urbimo would not suffer because of her error. So great a fear grips this realm that she did not seek forgiveness for herself, nor plead to be admitted to his garden despite her crime, but instead she prayed for Urbimo. The executioner, a giant of a man bearing an axe the like of which I have only before seen carried by ogres, watched her intently, his bearded face twisted into a monstrous grimace, though whether this was because he considered her the most despicable of creatures, or whether he recognised the true horror of her situation, I know not.

(https://i.imgur.com/r88rGby.jpg)

Behind her stood two more prisoners, due to receive the attentions of the executioner’s axe after they had witnessed the maid’s horrible death. I learned later that they had thrice arrived late to work upon the city’s defences, a crime transformed by the people’s heightened fears from mere misdemeanour to detestable felony. They were guarded by a soldier, who alone in the crowd seemed unable to look upon the spectacle. Instead he hung his head to stare at the ground before him, clutching his helm by his side.

(https://i.imgur.com/MyWN8bu.jpg)

The soldier was liveried in the colours of the Compagnia del Sole, and I have seen more of the same in Urbimo. Not all the Compagnia del Sole went east – perhaps a kindness on the part of their commander so that the city would not be left entirely unprotected?

I write all this, my noble lord, that you may know the truth concerning these realms. It seems to me that Remas cannot be expected to defeat the vampires. The Remans tried once already, to great loss, and their city is now locked in suicidal civil war. Now the same self-destruction, the same self-loathing, that wracks Remas has spread to Urbimo.

I have heard that armies are gathering in the south to face Razger’s brutes, yet it seems likely he has turned away. Will those same armies be prepared instead to face the vampires now that Remas is proved wanting? Is there an alliance between the vampires and brutes? Where will the unliving Duchess Maria strike? Is the Compagnia del Sole, having so unexpectedly marched east, part of some grand plan? I cannot know these things, nor would my guesses be of much value.

I end by asking, most noble lord, that you send instructions concerning what you would have me do, and whither you would send me.

Your loyal and humble servant, Antonio Mugello.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on May 19, 2018, 07:10:44 PM
Riveting. I’m getting consumed in the struggles of Tilea.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 19, 2018, 08:08:31 PM
Thanks for saying, Artobans Ghost. I'm now trying desperately to get a player to make a decision over a big issue so that I can move the campaign on and get some battles in this summer. The first battle really depends on what the player decides to do.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on May 25, 2018, 12:56:34 PM
Riveting. I’m getting consumed in the struggles of Tilea.

You and me both, brother. :blush:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 19, 2018, 06:06:17 PM
Thanks Xath and Arto. Some struggles, including ones as GM I believed were inevitable, and would form the next tabletop battle, are occasionally averted ... only to be replaced with another conflict. This next piece is a prequel to a new, major bat rep, and (believe it or not) over the next few months there should be several more. Busy times. I have to say my players are the best - so patient and yet so keen when we do play. They have even been busy modelling and painting, some for games they have been planning for RL years!
........................................
Prequel to the Second Assault Upon Viadaza

Excerpt from: “The Holiest of Armies, A History of the Disciplinati di Morr”


As spring came to a close in the year 2403 it seemed inevitable that bloody, civil war would engulf the state of Remas, despite the threats presented by both Razger’s brutes and the foul armies of the vampire duchess. Two factions, very different in nature, vied to wrest complete control of the realm from each other. Father Carradalio now ruled the city and eastern district of Palomtrina with an iron rod. The noble houses were powerless, the overlord held hostage, the streets, and indeed the very houses, patrolled and policed by his fanatical dedicants. But he did not rule the entire realm, for the Arch-Lector Bernado and the veteran army of Remas held the south-western district of Frascoti. Duke Guidobaldi of Pavona, his own realm brutally ravaged by the double army of ogres that had so recently threatened Remas, busied himself with brokering a peace between the Reman factions, while his son’s grievous wounds were tended by the city’s finest (surviving) doctors. His efforts seemed to be of no avail, however, for eventually the Reman army left its fortified camp and marched aggressively upon the city, intending that their erstwhile allies the Pavonans would join them in their enterprise.

Rumours were rife. Were one to give equal countenance to all that was said, it seemed each and every party intended to harm each and every other, and that not one, single honest agreement had been made. Every lord and priest plotted assassinations and treachery, so that each in return was the target of the same, and that the factions were divided even within themselves – what with Reman soldiers being secret Morrite dedicants and some of the Disciplinati inwardly yearning for the return of the church-proper and secular authority. Although the Reman army now advanced against the city, its walls manned by Disciplinati defenders, some said both sides had secretly agreed to turn upon the Pavonans, while others claimed the Pavonans had sided with both factions, leaving their true intentions a mystery but treacherous either way. The truth will never be known, for even those who plotted could not be certain of others’ minds, and perhaps had not even decided what they themselves would really do when push came to the shove. The outcome balanced upon a knife's edge, and everyone had a well-honed knife to hand.

Yet out of all this suspicion and turmoil, just as everything seemed to come to a head, an agreement was reached, as unexpected as it was sudden. The Praepositus Generalis of the Disciplinati di Morr, Father Carradalio, accepted the terms offered by the Arch-Lector Bernado, and both sides despite suspicions and distrust, remained true to their promises. War was averted. While Duke Guidobaldo and his ragged army of Pavonans slinked away, perhaps simply to remove themselves from any repercussions arising from the exposure of their duplicity, the two ‘most holy’ Morrite clergy in Tilea - one the radical, fanatical leader of the low church, the other the official, noble ruler of the high church – embraced each other.

Father Carradalio knelt before the holy pontiff, humbly confessed his sins and professed obedience to the Church of Morr. In return he was not only granted forgiveness but praised for his steadfast obedience to Morr’s revealed will and given command of the now officially recognised Disciplinati di Morr brotherhood. The arch-lector had personally witnessed what such dedicants were capable of in battle - how they alone could be relied upon to stand and fight to a man even in the face of all the terrors the vampires’ armies possessed - so he now commanded them to march forthwith from the city to seek battle with the foe.

Perhaps Father Carradalio knew full well that to attempt to hold the city against the Reman army, the anointed father of the church and the will of the majority of citizens, would prove disastrous? Why would he allow such turmoil to distract him when all he ever wanted was to serve the great god Morr in the war against the undead, and all he had ever done was in pursuit of that goal? (This included the cruelties a truly hard-heart required.) As for the arch-lector, a man experienced in politics, who had himself faced the undead in battle, perhaps he too saw the folly of engaging in a war that would weaken both the army under his command and the very fanatics best suited to fight against the true and terrible enemy? They both knew this was a time for war, but not civil war. Their common enemy threatened a fate much worse than that they presented to each other, a threat so great it made any disagreements between them seem trivial, despite having caused such turmoil and suffering.

No time was wasted, the Disciplinati di Morr being ever ready for any action or order, driven by their fanatical desire to prove themselves (with every thought and action) the perfect servants of Morr, the agents of his righteous vengeance and anger, his very weapons. Of course, the arch-lector and the citizens were keen to see them go, for no city could endure their fervent scrutiny for long, nor could it thrive whilst subject to their attentions. Within half a week the ‘Holiest of Armies’ departed and began its march to Urbimo. There they met with an order of Morrite dedicants of almost exactly like minds, who they happily incorporated into the army, thus swelling to an even greater strength. They parted Urbimo only two days later, such was their keenness to face the foe. Besides, Father Carradalio knew full well that to tarry even a little while could bring disaster to such an army, its warriors filled to the brim with a lust for battle, barely able to contain a frenzied fury which made them wont to scourge their own flesh to the very bone.

They aimed to cross the River Trantino to the south of Viadaza, for they had not the patience to go by way of the bridge at Scorcio. Father Carradalio led the army, his admonitor Brother Vincenzo by his side. He refused any mount or carriage, and would have only the scouts ahead of him, being too fearless to demand his bodyguard stay ever-close, but too wise to forego the necessity of scouts to a marching army. Besides, the army itself was his bodyguard. Should any enemy have approached they would have found themselves overwhelmed by a great swarm of dedicants ecstatically happy to martyr themselves in the defence of such an instrument of Holy Morr as he.

(https://i.imgur.com/7abCj1T.jpg)

Morr himself visited Carradalio’s dreams to reveal the enemy’s whereabouts. Carradalio thus announced to his lieutenants that two cities now contained the enemy’s armies, and that they would take Viadaza first for it had so long threatened Urbimo and was port through which the vampires could channel reinforcements elsewhere. Besides, he declared, the men to the south should and could face the other army, while he and the Disciplinati would strike at the vampires’ very hearts: Adolfo’s city of Viadaza, Maria’s city of Ebino and the foul origin of their current corruption, Miragliano.

Carradalio marched with sword drawn, not just leading the column, but also the prayers they chanted and the hymns they sang.

(https://i.imgur.com/XSSQBxY.jpg)

The prayers maintained the army’s fervour, lending them a strength which belied the meagre rations of the past days and weeks, for the words had sufficient power in them to stir the winds of magic. The hymns lifted the dedicants’ spirits too, just as any marching song might do in any army. These encouragements were bolstered further by the prayers being offered by the many priests and monks accompanying the army. Each body of dedicants had spiritual guides, either rectors assigned to them by Father Carradalio, or the shepherd’s marshals who had first guided them in their dedication to Morr, or both.

(https://i.imgur.com/bFKtxR6.jpg)

Furthermore, there was barely a hill of significance they passed that did not have a knot of priests upon it, channelling the encouraging will of Morr to wash down upon his warriors.

(https://i.imgur.com/eT8fp1q.jpg)

Marching immediately behind the Praepositus Generalis were a company of Reman citizen-dedicants. These were the men who had seized the city upon Father Carradalio’s command, tearing through the streets to slay any hired bravi or nobleman’s servant who stood in their way. Wholly obedient, they questioned no order, not even in their own hearts or minds, for they believed that their god spoke through Carradalio, that his words were divine in origin. Their robes still carried the blood stains from that struggle, as well as that of their own blood, born of the scars of their flagellations.

(https://i.imgur.com/eC8pbIK.jpg)

Behind them marched the dedicants of Pontremola, who had been even more brutal than their Reman counterparts in purging their own villages. Indeed, they had gone too far, for in their fury many innocents had died, and so their self-proclaimed prophet had been executed and they had been admonished. Yet these events had served to strengthened their resolve to serve Morr in body and soul, and they were imbued with not one iota’s less fervour than the rest of the army.

(https://i.imgur.com/TRbBJZE.jpg)

Next came Carradalio’s torch-bearing bodyguard, always ensuring that half their number carried flames, that they might be ready in but a moment to light the other torches. There was magic woven into the flames, so that they shone with a light both natural and other-worldly, capable of burning even creatures of the ether.

(https://i.imgur.com/MzbbY4Z.jpg)

Then came the tolling bell upon its carriage. This was brother to that which had been lost on the field at Ebino, and it sang with almost exactly the same sombre tone. Sacred texts adorned its mount, bearing the words that its accompanying guards quietly chanted over and over.

(https://i.imgur.com/NoFPejh.jpg)

Behind the bell marched more Reman dedicants, made up of those foreigners who had travelled from all over the Old World to live in the holy city. They carried enormous, heavy, and viciously barbed flails of iron, capable of killing a man merely by falling upon him, which they swung in hard-learned and painfully practiced motions. A much greater number had left Remas, and still more fell daily as a consequence of the slightest miss-step or a moment’s bad timing, yet still they continued for such was their dedication to martyrdom that they no longer cared for anything but their holy, wild and deadly cavortings. It was such as these who convinced Carradalio of the need to reach the foe as quickly as possible. To linger even a day too long could critically sap his army’s strength. As he famously said to the arch-lector during his public profession of his sins, in explanation of the Disciplinati’s hasty and violent seizure of the city: “The fuse has been lit, and we needs must place the charge before it bursts.” To which the arch-lector had graciously agreed it would be a terrible waste to be hoist by one’s own petard.

(https://i.imgur.com/nCk5LCD.jpg)

Next in the column trundled maestro Angelo da Leoni’s engine of war, his ‘Cannone Luminoso’ with its impressive array of giant lenses. By now it had become common knowledge in the city that this machine had been abandoned by the maestro when he instead had chosen to work on his steam engine for the Arch-Lector Calictus II, yet it was also known that the lenses had since been proven effective enough to melt several men, and that da Leoni had declared with confidence that the piercing light it emitted would burn the undead even more readily than the living. Father Carradalio hoped it would wash its rays against Vaidaza’s parapets, scorching the foul flesh of whatever stood there, but although he had prayed for guidance upon how best to employ such an engine, Morr ignored his requests.

(https://i.imgur.com/ECKHden.jpg)

Then came the most recent recruits to the holy army – the dedicants of Urbimo. They, like the Pontremolans, had gone to great and terrible lengths to cleanse their settlement of sin. In fact, they had gone much further, for they had not just run violently through the streets in a riot of religiously inspired hatred, fighting any opposition, but had calmly gathered up all those they considered guilty of even the most minor of crimes, including those merely suspected of such (even on the flimsiest of evidence), and put them to death. This they did to be certain of an effective purging, even if it was at the cost of the death of many innocents, even members of their own family. They had executed them publicly, one after the other, and in the grisliest of ways, by burnings and quarterings, or combinations thereof. They believed the suffering not only cleansed the guilty victims’ souls but ensured Morr would pour his righteous blessing upon the whole of Urbimo, especially the dedicants who proved themselves so thoroughly committed that they could punish even their own neighbours and family. Amongst their number were grey-robed monks from the Morrite monastery Sacra di San Antamo on the rocky promontory to the north-west of Urbimo. The rest, being the bulk of their number, were still garbed in their peasant clothes, albeit favouring the Morrite hues of grey and red.

(https://i.imgur.com/3fviXU4.jpg)

Marching behind the Urbiman dedicants was a substantial number of soldiers. Barone Pietro of Urbimo had brought his household guard of light horsemen with him, as well as the single small company of Compagnia del Sole crossbowmen left behind as a token act of mercy when the all the rest of the mercenaries marched away leaving the Urbimans unprotected in this time of need. Some of his horsemen rode with the barone, but most were acting as outriders and scouts, with the aforementioned blessing of Father Carradalio. Of course, many more of the barone’s subjects were part of the holy army, but he recognised that as Morrite dedicants any authority he had over them was little more than nominal. They had been willingly absorbed into the Disciplinati di Morr and were now Carradalios to command. Not that the barone cared over much, for he too shared enough fear to make him almost as much a Morrite cultist as them.

And there was the standing guard of the city of Remas, known as the Palace Guard, consisting almost entirely of mercenaries from the northern Empire, commanded by Captain Vogel. Their presence was something of an act of penance, for Vogel had not only failed to lift a finger to halt the Disciplinati’s uprising and seizure of the city but was known to have secretly agreed with Carradalio not to interfere beyond ensuring the personal safety of the highest clergymen. In return he had been promised the reward of becoming commander of the city’s entire regular forces, and a doubling in the size of his company, along with a proportionate increase in his pay. The arch-lector had decided he could hardly forgive Father Carradalio his sins and not Captain Vogel, nor did he want to dismiss and disperse a body of soldiers such as the guard in a time of war. So they too were forgiven and ordered to accompany the holy army upon the march to face the Vampire Duchess’s armies.

Their main company, men-at-arms carrying either halberds or great-swords, marched immediately behind the compagnia’s crossbowmen …

(https://i.imgur.com/u2m4rXa.jpg)

… whilst at their rear came their own crossbow as well as the army’s artillery – Vogel’s brace of cannons. Captain Vogel had voiced his little confidence in the maestro’s war-machine, resurrected as it was from the scrap-heap, hoping instead his own pets, his ‘pocket pistols’ as he was wont to call them, would do what was required to punch a real hole in the enemy’s defences.

This was the army that marched to Viadaza to face the vampire duchess herself.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 22, 2018, 12:30:56 PM
Does the thought of a bat rep with this lot not excite anyone?

Surely someone can tell me whether the writing / pictures worked? I always worry that my tendency to have fun with archaic words and odd turns of phrase might annoy people.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 22, 2018, 01:34:41 PM
Moving quickly, and will read it soon! :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 23, 2018, 08:52:43 AM
It seems the author of  “The Holiest of Armies, A History of the Disciplinati di Morr” has Morrist leanings, both from the title, and in how the descriptions paint the army above in such ... light. :icon_wink:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 24, 2018, 07:05:02 PM
Not so sure about that, GP ...
Quote
This they did to be certain of an effective purging, even if it was at the cost of the death of many innocents, even members of their own family. They had executed them publicly, one after the other, and in the grisliest of ways, by burnings and quarterings, or combinations thereof. They believed the suffering not only cleansed the guilty victims’ souls but ensured Morr would pour his righteous blessing upon the whole of Urbimo, especially the dedicants who proved themselves so thoroughly committed that they could punish even their own neighbours and family.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 24, 2018, 08:58:13 PM
Just read the above on this cloudy Sunday. Been out of sorts lately and totally uninspired but your work is excellent and I feel the pull. Your use of the archaic language only adds to the flavour. Keep it up! Can’t wait for the battle rep and see who’s still standing 😸
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 25, 2018, 08:14:47 PM
Thanks Artoban. I too need encouragement otherwise my enthusiasm levels flag as a natural lack of confidence kicks in!

Here's the first installment of the battle - deployment and vanguard moves.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Assault on Viadaza
Summer IC2403


Once more Viadaza was to be the site of bloody conflict.

In Autumn 2401 the dead had risen to tear their way through the streets until there were none alive in the entire city (http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php?topic=46787.msg882824#msg882824). In Summer 2402 Arch-Lector Calictus II’s grand army had broken through the walls to retake the city from the living dead, forcing the vampire Lord Adolfo to flee (http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php?topic=46787.msg959923#msg959923) . In the Spring of 2403 the city yet again fell to the undead, this time almost without a fight, and although plenty of blood was shed, belonging to many of the foolish souls remaining in the city, this time a number were spared so that they might serve the cruel church of Nagash through their enforced, tormented prayers.

Now, in the summer of 2403, an army the like of which had never before been seen in Tilea approached to wrest Viadaza from the undead again. The ‘Holiest Army’ they called themselves, consisting almost entirely of religious fanatics, the flagellating dedicants of the Disciplinatic di Morr.

The city’s walls had been repaired since the Summer of 2402. Corpses were burned in huge heaps in the streets in an attempt to ensure they could never be resurrected to serve the vampires again, while the damage to the walls inflicted during the assault …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault47_zpsxyeucxeb.jpg)

… had been repaired, and the earthwork bastion, studded with stormpoles, which sat before the gate …

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileanCampaignContinued/ViadazaAssault43_zpsmqvv2uky.jpg)

… had, in a spirit of optimism, been cleared away to give easier access so that the city could recover and even thrive once more through trade. Thus it was that the Holiest Army of Morr faced an unbroken wall, studded with towers, with an expanse of open ground, bereft of trees, cottages or cover of any kind.

(https://i.imgur.com/qpdHrdn.jpg)

Not that they needed to conceal themselves as they approached, for the enemy had no artillery to employ against them, nor handguns or even bows. The duchess’ second-in-command, the bestial vampire Lord Adolfo, his magically re-vivified blood tainted by an orcen tinge, watched the approaching army from the southern-most tower, his ghouls occupying the walls and towers around him. This was the same stretch of wall he had attempted to defend during the last assault. Perhaps he had chosen to put himself there deliberately, to test himself and prove he was capable of doing that which he failed to do previously?

(https://i.imgur.com/WdVZdVB.jpg)

The other walls and towers were held by the vampire duchess’s graveguard, while a large horde of fly-ridden zombies staggered before the gate, and a regiment of skeletal warriors marched outside the northern wall. Inside the city were a body of black knights and a spirit host, both of which were capable of moving through the stone walls to attack the foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/Sg35fks.jpg)
(Note: See appendix below for a diagram of the wall sections and a brief discussion of the siege/assault rules.)

The Holiest Army had built a great wooden siege tower, in the old style, presuming the enemy was unlikely to have cannon or any kind of war engines to hurl missiles at it. A large body of cultists pushed this towards the tower upon which Lord Adolfo waited, while another regiment of cultists advanced upon the very left flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/HvKARW8.jpg)

Upon the other side of the tower, towards the centre of the Disciplinati’s line, marched a company of mercenaries with crossbows, then a large regiment of cultists containing both the Praepositus Generalis Father Carradalio and his admonitor, Brother Vincenzo. The soldiers of the Remas city guard occupied the right of the centre, consisting of crossbows, two cannons and a regiment of men-at-arms, the latter containing the disgraced condottieri Captain Vogel and the Urbiman priest of Morr. Beyond these, upon the right flank, was da Leoni’s ‘Cannone Luminoso’, then Carradalio’s bodyguard, then the horde of Urbiman cultists. Upon the extreme right was a company of cultist crossbowmen, behind which trotted Barone Pietro Cybo and his guard of light horsemen (at first unsure as to what their role could be in an assault such as this, but then nervously aware that they might well be fighting that day when they saw the enemy outside the walls).

Behind the army was the baggage train, with yet more lesser clergy and cultists to guard it. Carradalio was very keen to ensure this was kept safe, for if he was to lead his army deep into the enemy’s territory, to strike a blow into the very heart of their realm, then he would need his well-stocked baggage train intact.

(https://i.imgur.com/fINckAl.jpg)

Of course, he knew that the casualties his fanatical followers would accrue would be significant, even in victory, and so each subsequent battle would be fought with rapidly decreasing numbers. But those soldiers he had would always need meat and drink. Indeed, the inevitable dwindling of his army’s strength would lend itself to the supplies in the baggage train proving sufficient for his campaign, bolstered (as with all armies) by whatever they could take along the way.

A stench wafted from the city, coming as no surprise to the attacking force, which was made all the more sickly by the still-rotting walking corpses posted directly in front of the gate.

(https://i.imgur.com/1bOiYE6.jpg)

Father Carradalio’s plan was simple. He intended to utilise the fanaticism of his troops - their fearless determination to fight to the very last man - to obtain a foothold upon at least two points along the city’s stone circumvallation, from which to fan out along the parapets, subsequently fighting without the disadvantage of being upon ladders. On the right he intended the dedicants pushing the siege tower …

(https://i.imgur.com/zuHvrRY.jpg)

… to assault the corner tower at the same moment the leftmost regiment …

(https://i.imgur.com/Gr3Wn2c.jpg)

… climbed over the southern wall. That way the ghouls (and Lord Adolfo) would be attacked from two sides, and the casualties caused could be so swiftly delivered that necromantic magic would be unable to resurrect their losses sufficiently quickly.

Whilst that attack was delivered, the cannons …

(https://i.imgur.com/iJimuum.jpg)

… would concentrate first upon the gate and then upon a wall, hopefully creating two access points which could be employed if the walls proved too difficult an obstacle, while the massed regiments of cultists …

(https://i.imgur.com/RCRha3b.jpg)

… and Reman guardsmen would seek to enter at whichever point seemed most amenable to a speedy attack (after dealing with the massed zombies between them and the wall). On the far right of the line, the Urbiman peasant cultists …

(https://i.imgur.com/RbfHpTo.jpg)

…  were ordered to attack the skeletons threatening the army’s flank and then support the other troops as best they could. The army’s significant number of crossbowmen were to concentrate their shooting at the defenders on the walls (able to aim over the heads of the massed troops advancing in front of them) in the hope that even if the casualties they caused were re-raised, the magic efforts required to do so would diminish the number of spells hurled from the walls at the advancing army. In support of the crossbowmen, the war engine was to target anything of significance its crew could spot upon the walls or aim to pierce the multiple ranks of either of the undead regiments outside the walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/FFlOa25.jpg)

The vampire duchess had plans of her own. Besides manning the walls (Note: see appendix for GM-ruled dispersal of defenders on the walls) she had boldly placed two regiments outside the walls - the skeletons and zombies - and to support them she had cunningly concealed two ethereal companies - her spirit hosts and black riders - behind the nearby walls so that they could sally out upon her command.

(https://i.imgur.com/gZhtiLD.jpg)

Her own mount awaited her near the knights, held by a skeletal servant, in case she herself decided to sally out with them! To lend necromantic support to nearly all her troops, she had placed herself at the northern end of the walls, Lord Adolfo at the southern end, and her necromancer …

(https://i.imgur.com/nIB0bL1.jpg)

… in a tower between the two of them.

For some time the attackers waited impatiently, as the tower was pushed steadily towards the walls (Note: As per 6th Ed WFB siege rules, a 2D6 ‘vanguard’ style move) ..

(https://i.imgur.com/MLKTiBx.jpg)

… until suddenly there was a blare of horns and thunderous roll of drumming, and the army as a whole began to advance.

Battle to follow.

Anyone care to hazard a guess as to who will win?


Appendix

A very brief summary of the assault battle rules:

I based the rules on the 6th ed WFB siege appendix, modified for 8th and with some of the 8th ed building assault rules added in to make the end result more compatible with 8th ed.

An assault game lasts 7 not 6 turns, and the aim is to control more wall or tower sections at the end of turn 7 than the opponent. There are lose, draw, minor victory and major victory results, themselves with campaign consequences, and themselves a modified version of our usual campaign rules regarding casualties etc.

I GM’d the sections to consist of the following…

(https://i.imgur.com/AJUq4jv.jpg)

The defender is allowed to split large regiments (30+) into two equal halves, then each half regiment or entire small regiment can occupy up to two neighbouring sections, again splitting in half to do so. Thus 40 ghouls could split then split again to occupy four adjacent sections with 10 ghouls on each. This seems fair enough, even though a break from normal practice ‘in the field’ because at the end of the day the companies on the walls are simply ordered to stand there and fight whatever comes at them.

I never specified on the day, but if a player had raised the question I would have had to say, that little sub-companies of regiments divided this way cannot move away from their adjacent sub-companies, and so cannot start behaving as a truly independent company, unless a character was with them in which case I would have allowed it. The other companies, without characters, would have stayed on the wall they deployed on originally. Characters can move from section to adjacent section, thus moving from sub-company to sub-company one turn at a time.

Walls (but not towers) can be attacked with ladders – with die modifiers much favouring the defenders (eg. defenders +1 to hit, attackers at -1; attackers can only use hand weapons), and extra rules such as that the defenders count as being within the effect of an army standard and can re-roll break tests. More figures fight than in 6th ed – up to 9 attackers per section, up to 12 defenders (provided they have the numbers left to do so). It should be hard to take a castle wall!

Cannons pound the walls using the rules exactly as presented in 6th ed WFB. Once collapsed then walls simply become rocky ground, with the defenders counting as being behind a hard obstacle.

Siege towers are like 6th ed, but with more figures fighting as a modified version of building assault rules from 8th ed.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 25, 2018, 11:32:33 PM
Wow! What a set up. I remember reading all the seige rules in 6th and 8th and wanting to do a form of seige warfare. I even had seige toweres  and a covered battering ram. Not sure where they ended up. I’m going to put my money on the Morr army. It’s a sound strategy and they have the chaff to get thru it I think except for those wraiths and knights. They will be a most unpleasant surprise. Still not going downstairs to face the troops but getting revved again. Great board as well. I like the cloth on the field. That has hivin me some ideas as I need to do something with the dull as dishwater board I have.
Waiting anxiously for the next instalment.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 26, 2018, 08:41:43 PM
Here it is, oh ghostly one ...
....................................
The Assault on Viadaza
Summer IC2403


Part Two

As the huge siege tower trundled on, the cultists to its left marched more speedily, soon catching up with it.

(https://i.imgur.com/WtaoUGr.jpg)

In the centre of the field the generalis praepositus wasted no time in ordering his own regiment of cultists on, towards the gate and mob of stinking undead guards. As they moved their bell rang out, its sombre tone part and parcel of the practices they employed to bring on a furiously frenzied state of being.

(https://i.imgur.com/LKdmY4D.jpg)

The city guard in the centre of the line stayed put for now, but on the right the large crowd of Urbimans advanced, with their lord riding up behind them.

(https://i.imgur.com/6VHdfn5.jpg)

The crew on the cannone luminoso chose the regiment of skeletons to be their first target …

(https://i.imgur.com/QSyPpNY.jpg)

… hoping to scorch right through the foe to bring down a whole file. By turning two geared, iron wheels, they rotated the screw-like shaft running the engine’s length, finely adjusting the distances dividing the giant lenses better to suit the range of their intended flash. Then the engineer opened the shutter of a leaden lantern containing the eerily glowing gem responsible for initiating the process. The loosed light projected out to reflect via two concave mirrors onto the first of the several linearly-placed lenses. The glass of each lens was fashioned from a potent combination of molten, fine, white sand and pounded warpstone, subsequently ground precisely into shape to ensure the light penetrating through each of them was not only concentrated but incrementally fed by the winds of magic, transforming from a ray of bright, hot light laced with raw magic into a beam of such heat as could turn a man to ash at a distance of hundreds of yards, and of such potent magical power as could instantly dissolve even the otherworldly forms of ethereal creatures.

A light now appeared in the rear-most, largest lens - that which the maestro da Leoni had called the ‘bonaventure lens’ - tinged blood red but piercingly bright at its core.

(https://i.imgur.com/kyDNu3w.jpg)

The engine began to shake, its component parts clattering so much that the draught horses, selected specifically for their docility and ability to withstand the sounds of battle, began to buck and strain at their harnesses. The engineer, clutching the rattling railing which hemmed his platform, felt his stomach knot as he realised that this was going to be a more massive blast than any they had achieved in Remas during their practises. His rim of white hair suddenly stood on end, and he could hear a fizzing sort of sound accompanied by the distinctive smell of singed wool which presumably was coming from his own robes.

There was a sound akin to a giant intake of breath, and then a searing bolt was loosed through and from the machine which stretched right over to the skeletons, tearing apart an entire file of five into tiny fragments of scorched bone and dust. This was followed immediately by a loud cracking sound as the mizzen-lens (being the second last last) broke in two. All hint of the light instantly vanished, and for a moment the engine’s crew felt the breath sucked from their lungs.

[(Note: Luminark rules – an irresistibly cast bolt from a bound item breaks said item and makes it unusable for the rest of the game!)

Once they had recovered, and quite literally regained their breath, the engineer scrutinised the cracked lens. His shoulders slumped as he realised that what had just happened would be the engine’s only contribution to the battle. He caught himself just in time before taking Morr’s name in vain and began a prayer of cleansing to wash away any taint of his sinful intention.

The cannons, however, had much more luck. The first sent a ball right through the zombies, spattering five of them, then continued straight into the city’s gate, shattering the wood so badly that the hole thus made was sufficient even for men to enter (if a little uncomfortably). The second sent a shot smashing into the wall upon which the duchess herself was stood, shaking it somewhat. The three companies of crossbows took down several handfuls of zombies, skeletons and ghouls.

Upon the southernmost tower, Lord Adolfo scowled at the approaching siege tower. It had been fashioned somewhat simply of large planks, its only decorations being a huge painted cloth upon the front and a flag atop. Both these sported variations of the same design, an emblem Adolfo had seen previously in both life and undeath. It was one of the more popular symbols of Morr, consisting of an hourglass containing the sands of time, flanked by two raven wings.

(https://i.imgur.com/SgD7vNO.jpg)

It was not trepidation he felt, nor anger, and certainly not fear, but rather impatience. He yearned to tear apart whoever lurked within the tower, to rend them limb from limb and bathe in their blood. And he wanted to do it now!

As the skeletons to the north of the city advanced, and the zombies shuffled a little forwards, the vampires and necromancer on the walls conjured what magic they could (Game note: magic dice 10:9 due to several dispel pool boosting artefacts in the Holiest Army) to resurrect several of the fallen zombies and skeletons. The duchess herself focused her hocus pocus on the Urbimans, conjuring Curse of Years upon them to kill nine immediately.

(https://i.imgur.com/bbdOYq2.jpg)

Carradalio’s followers, itching to fight after many weeks of self-scourging, now thought it was the time to charge, but the siege tower failed to reach the walls, and the cultists failed to reach either the zombies or the skeletons. The exertions of their rapid march had obviously had an effect upon them, yet their failure did not diminish their desire to attack one jot. The army’s priests prayed to Morr to lift the curse upon the Urbimans …

(https://i.imgur.com/Efiz1yD.jpg)

… which the god of death graciously granted, but otherwise the holy men could effect little else. Both cannons further shook the wall upon which the duchess stood (Game Note: now up to +3 on all future rolls on the damage chart) which at last made her wonder whether she ought to remain there, risking the ignominious fate of becoming buried in rubble.

The other vampire lord, Adolfo, was also (in his own way) in a thoughtful mood. So keen was his passion to slay the occupants of the approaching tower that he failed even register the large body of cultists advancing beside the tower, heading for the currently unguarded wall behind the tower.

(https://i.imgur.com/QRt09gP.jpg)

Once again crossbow bolts were loosed by the dozen, this time with arrows from the horse soldiers too, but these volleys caused only a peppering of casualties, insufficient in number for the vampires or necromancer to even notice.

The spirit hosts, being the bound souls of Viadaza’s most ancient warriors, now issued through the stone of the northern walls. Their ethereal forms seemed woven of shadows, the upper reaches of which were (impossibly) imbued with a greenish glow.

(https://i.imgur.com/Uec9x2U.jpg)

The vampires employed a cursed book to wither the dedicants accompanying Carradalio and his admonitor, Brother Vincenzo, though to look at them you would barely have noticed the difference such was their fury and fervour for the fight.

(https://i.imgur.com/WPJB15c.jpg)

Necromantic magic summoned a body of zombies to threaten the flank of the Urbimans …

(https://i.imgur.com/TxphyMr.jpg)

.. then the vampires returned their attentions upon the weakened flagellants in the centre to lay low five of them with the Gaze of Nagash. Of course, none of this dampened the violent enthusiasm of the advancing army

End of turn 2
To continue asap.


Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 26, 2018, 10:58:54 PM
Quote: End of turn 2
           To continue asap.

Aaarrrgghh! (Referring to above)

Brilliant! Now I’m not so sure. Cracked lenses, failed charges. Necromantic cursed books! All this tension. At least those canons are rocking.
Great work Padre!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 28, 2018, 04:40:44 PM
No plan ever survives contact with the enemy, Artoban, a lessen which is further emphasised in turn 3 ...

...

Now the Holiest of armies launched several charges. In such close proximity to the foe, the dedicant crossbow could not restrain themselves and so charged into the newly raised zombies despite the entreaties of their shepherd to restrain themselves.

(https://i.imgur.com/E1pwo6I.jpg)

Despite their small size their flagellations caused the death of four of their own number, and such was the fury this self-mutilation instilled that they tore down eight of the zombies with the further loss of only one more of their own. The remaining zombies all collapsed as the magic re-vivifying their rotting frames petered out.

(Note: As GM creating the Disciplinati di Morr house rules – modified Empire flagellant rules - I had forgotten to remove ‘The End is Nigh’ rule from their unit listing, which of course makes more sense with a missile unit. Who would create such a small sized missile unit if they were subject to that rule? It will probably be removed before the next conflict)

Gripped by a similar lust for battle, Father Carradalio and Brother Vincenzo jointly led their own regiment into the swollen mass of zombies before the gate.

(https://i.imgur.com/dFh6Fcm.jpg)

Carradalio personally cut down two of them, while his warriors slaughtered another thirteen.  The still moving zombies reeled from the blow, unable to inflict any harm back, and fifteen more of them collapsed as they also succumbed to the effects of diminishing magic.

(Note: The Undead player realised at the end of the game that he should have put out only 30 of the zombies, but because the models were all magnetized to the movement base and he usually fielded 60 he accidentally fielded twice the size he should have. If that mistake had not occurred, the cultists would have destroyed the unit totally in this turn. There’s always a few mistakes creep in to battles, although they are mostly mine!)

On the left of the attackers’ line, the siege tower at last reached the tower and lowered its drawbridge, allowing the halberd-wielding cultists to pour forwards. Four of their own number perished to their frenzied flagellations, but the god Morr filled the rest with an overwhelming bloodlust as a consequence. They now cared not a jot for their own defence, only that they could rain blows down upon the foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/s8HspTO.jpg)

But the vampire Lord Adolfo was waiting for them, and they now discovered just what such a creature was capable of.

(https://i.imgur.com/5Kq471a.jpg)

Eight of the cultists died from his attentions (Game note: Strigoi ghoul king with Sword of Bloodshed and vampiric Red Fury). The ghouls on the tower with Adolfo butchered three more of the cultists, while eight of their own number died. The Disciplinati di Morr dedicants had failed to take the wall-tower, losing both the initial impetus of their attack and also their frenzied mania. They would not break and run, determined as they were to die to a man in Morr’s service. That did not mean that they would win, only that if they lost none would be left alive.

One of the dedicants climbing the ladders to reach the fighting platform, whilst corpse after corpse tumbled down from the mayhem above, glanced over to the regiment making for the neighbouring wall. In a sickening moment of clarity it occurred to him that unless the others ascended the wall almost immediately, attacking whatever was defending the tower immediately, then his own regiment would perish to a man before they even got into the fight. Not that he was afraid of death, for he was blessed by Morr, just that he realised that if the others were too late, then whatever was killing his own comrades so quickly would simply turn on them to do the same. And then neither wall nor tower would be taken. For a moment he felt a pang of despair, but he brushed the feeling away with an angry shout and continued his climb.

While these fights broiled, the priests managed to dispel the withering curse affecting the Urbimans. One cannon again shook the wall violently (yet it still did not fall) but the other failed even to shoot, and the hail of crossbow bolts shot up at the walls did little more than clatter and clunk against the stones.

The skeletons to the north of the walls chose not to wait for the enemy and hurled themselves into the horde of Urbimans before them.

(https://i.imgur.com/Af9lUAQ.jpg)

The ancient, undead warriors brought down three of the dedicants, merely matching the harm the dedicants own scourging had caused to themselves. Such was their frenzy that the Urbimans failed to notice and cut down a dozen skeletons.

Near the now open gate Father Carradalio’s sword continued its bloody work, hewing apart another pair of zombies. These two truly dead corpses were joined by eighteen more. Only four of the dedicants perished, three by their own flails! The last half dozen zombies fell as all vestiges of the magic animating them vanished. The way to the gate was clear.

(https://i.imgur.com/T8M52KO.jpg)

The Necromancer upon the tower now read from his book, conjuring a curse which sapped the strength of the dedicants upon the siege-tower, so that some even struggled to ascend the ladders. This did not help their fight. Three died from their own flagellations, eight more from Adolfo’s attentions and a further two perished at the hands of the ghouls. What few were left fought on (Note: Unbreakable) but more of them were coming to the realisation that the regiment approaching the wall with ladders was not going to make it in time to save their complete obliteration, and that this would probably mean that regiment would be destroyed in turn.

The Duchess Maria finally decided to quit the unstable wall and join her Black Knights in the yard below.

(https://i.imgur.com/X74s1ec.jpg)

She commanded them to move forwards a little towards the gate, for she intended to charge whatever came through it.

End Turn 3
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Dihenydd on June 28, 2018, 05:14:02 PM
This is fantastic.  However, I can't help but remember an old WD article stating that to bring Empire armies to an Undead Castle is like Necromancers ordering take out.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 29, 2018, 10:40:27 AM
Unfortunately I have fallen in love with the flaggellant models and the scratch townspeople regiments. They are dying in droves and they haven’t even met the cavalry or ethereal ones. I can feel the hopelessness of those climbing the tower.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 29, 2018, 09:25:47 PM
@ Artobahn: I had to paint all those models. Watching so many die was a horrible experience! Would I ever use the models again? Thanks again for your comments.

.........

Final Part of the The Assault on Viadaza

Just as Father Carradalio was about to order his regiment to charge through the broken gate, Brother Vincenzo shouted, “No, Father! They are waiting in strength.” He had seen the undead horse soldiers massed within and knew that if any who entered there would likely be cut down to a man.

Father Carradalio nodded, then pointed at the wall by the gate, commanding, “Ladders. Up!” at which the dedicants rushed to place the ladders and begin their climb.

(https://i.imgur.com/XCP4uW6.jpg)

What resulted was short, but bloody, work, even though neither the priests’ prayers nor Brother Vincenzo’s holy, burning water harmed the foe. Four dedicants collapsed from their own self-punishment, and another four were slain by the ghouls upon the parapet, but Carradalio beheaded two of the foe, Vincenzo another and the dedicants smashed five skulls. The few ghouls left scuttled away and with a leap Carradalio and the first of his dedicants were on the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/IP2Tvu5.jpg)
Note: See Appendix below for actual ‘in game’ version of this moment!

The climb was considerably easier for the cultists at the southern wall. As they clambered over …

(https://i.imgur.com/xvYjKvh.jpg)

… they did not yet know that the vampire Lord Adolfo and his ghouls had already defeated the dedicants on the siege tower. All forty were either dead or maimed so badly they could no longer fight (many wounded by their own hands).

Outside the walls the crossbow carrying cultists charged into the flank of the much diminished regiment of skeletons …

(https://i.imgur.com/m2vqi0e.jpg)

… and between them and the Urbimans they cut every last one down. The crossbowmen, realising that the spirit hosts were behind them, moved over the bony remnants to put a better distance between them and a foe they could not hope to harm, while the Urbimans reformed themselves as they realised they could become the spirit hosts’ chosen target.

(https://i.imgur.com/h00Q3tt.jpg)

Behind the Urbimans, the torch-wielding dedicants of the praepositus generalis’ bodyguard manoeuvred as best they could, frustrated in their efforts, knowing that their blessed, burning torches could easily dispatch the spirits if only they could get to them.

(Game note: Home rule - Blessed Torch Flames. Flaming, close combat attacks. Cause Fear in war-beasts, cavalry & chariots. Affect Flammable (p.69 BRB) & Regeneration (p.74 BRB) abilities. Able to wound ethereal creatures.)

While one cannon was being made ready again after its earlier misfire, the other cannon sent a shot that brought down the parapet of the wall where until moments before the duchess had been standing. Four of the grave guard became buried in the rubble, and three more succumbed to the crossbow bolts and light horsemen’s arrows which found their marks much more easily now that there was no wall in the way. The rest of the guards simply stood as they were, entirely bereft of any trepidation concerning whether the wall was about to collapse fully.

At the very moment the leading dedicants upon the captured, southern wall turned towards the door into the tower, it burst open with such force as to rip it off its hinges, and Lord Adolfo, filled with a furious rage, leaped out to tear into them.

(https://i.imgur.com/46dCGKz.jpg)

He was followed by his ghouls and the fight that ensued was even bloodier than the previous. Adolfo alone killed eleven cultists, while the ghouls cut down another nine. What with another cultist perishing from his own self scourging, it all added up to twenty dead cultists, while only seven of the ghouls had been killed.  Of course, the dedicants of the Disciplinati di Morr fought on, more and more clambering over the parapet to die almost instantly, even though none now harboured any hope that they might survive.

Father Carradalio, however, and what few warriors were left to his regiment, were doing better, losing only five of their number whilst killing nearly twice as many ghouls. Such was the weakening of the necromantic forces binding the ghouls, that the necromancer with them now succumbed to true death, along with the one or two ghouls remaining.

Just before entering the round tower beside him, Carradalio looked down into the city and his eyes locked with his greatest enemy, the vampire duchess herself.

(https://i.imgur.com/AaILyK1.jpg)

She was sitting side-saddle upon her red-barded steed, looking deceptively delicate in her posture, but there was nothing but pure evil in her eyes. Carradalio smiled, such was his joy at leading his holy warriors into battle, knowing that Morr was by his side. The duchess snarled and watched through narrowed eyes as the priest stepped through the door out of her sight. He had but three warriors left with him, and his admonitor Brother Vincenzo, yet he still had confidence that victory would be his. Captain Vogel’s elite palace guard were approaching the gate with the Urbiman priest amongst them. The cannons were still booming and every undead warrior outside the city had been killed.

What he did not know, until he got to the top of the tower, was that Adolfo had now slain the entire second regiment of dedicants attacking the southern wall. With a little help from his ghouls (and the enemy themselves) he had obliterated 70 dedicants. All the while he had been reanimating his fallen soldiers so that when he left the wall and hurtled down the street immediately behind, heading towards the duchess, he still had ten ghouls with him.

(https://i.imgur.com/dtWPll6.jpg)

The spirit hosts passed back through the city walls, intending to attack whatever force attempted to climb the northern wall even as it did so. The duchess now decided that her black knights could surely deal with whatever came through the gate on their own, so she leaped from her mount and made her way into the round tower immediately north of the gate, with a mind to fight her way through whomsoever got in her way and kill the laughing priest. Before she could reach the wall on the southern side of the gate, however, Captain Vogel and the palace guard employed the same ladders Carradalio and the cultists had used to ascend the wall also.

(https://i.imgur.com/mnBiqv3.jpg)

Meanwhile Father Carradalio had reached the round tower’s top …

(https://i.imgur.com/bkPaBlM.jpg)

… and peered over to spy Adolfo loping down the street below. (Game Note: Magic pools 7:4) Feeling Morr’s wrath flow through him, he cast Morr’s Curse upon the vampire (-1S, -1T, -1Ld) followed by Morr’s Glare (on 6,6,6,5!!!), which stung so badly that Adolfo stumbled and almost fell (He had lost 2 of 3 wounds!)

The battered wall occupied by grave guard had been hit several more times and was now on the verge of complete collapse – a man leaning up on it might cause it to topple. Several more skeletons had been killed by crossbow bolts, and the rest of the Holiest Army’s regiments had moved closer to the walls. The Urbimans and a company of crossbowmen were ready to attempt charges to capture more of the walls.

The Duchess Maria had sensed her servant’s anguish at the stinging power of the enemy’s prayers, and it suddenly dawned on her that if she and Adolfo attacked the walls and the tower they could almost certainly cut down all opposition and most likely even the two priests of Morr, but there was a small but real chance she could fail. Adolfo had been weakened and if only one Morrite survived that might be sufficient to finish him. She knew not what other tricks these priests had up their sleeves.

The wall behind her was about to collapse, and Morrites were closing in to capture several other sections. She had sent most of her army’s fighting strength away with Biagino, and this guard force she had kept here in Viadaza had proved too weak (if only just) to defend against these cultists. The enemy’s dead were piled high, yet still they came on in frenzied fury - fearing neither death nor undeath, and they fought to the last. If but one remained he would run at her, not away.

Maria loved her undeath, so much she wanted it to last forever. This would not happen if she took needless risks. She made her decision quickly and gave the command immediately.

“Leave!”

All her servants heard her, for they were beholden to her will, and could sense her very thoughts. The Black Knights galloped down the high street from the Eastgate …

(https://i.imgur.com/cXv91ak.jpg)

… while Adolfo led his ghouls down another parallel street – in fact, it was the very same street he had fled down the previous year when the Arch-Lector of Remas had attacked Viadaza. The irony was lost on him.

(https://i.imgur.com/etvZBap.jpg)

The rest of her army, the duchess included, slipped away through interconnected cellars and attics, crossing vestibules and arches, down passages and alleyways, towards the waterfront where boats awaited them.

Once again, the undead had yielded Viadaza to a Reman led army. But the duchess was far from defeated, merely inconvenienced. She would raise more servants wheresoever she went and destroy this foe in her own good time.

Their losses in this battle would be much, much harder to replace.

Game Over. End of turn 6 (Turn 7 conceded)

Game notes:

Victory
The Duchess’s player, Daz, had already lost a PC (the vampire Duke of Miragliano) much earlier in the campaign, and he went through several seasons of difficulties and struggles to gain control of the realm and its armies for his new character, the duchess. He was not willing to take the risk, and decided to do the cool-headed, strategic thing and get away alive. Well … undead, anyway! I told him I thought the duchess or Adolfo would most likely kill Father Carradalio (another player’s PC, although that player lives so far away he has volunteer susbtiture players commanding his army on the field) if they went for it. But he knew there was a chance the duchess might perish, or Adolfo, and that even if they didn’t, then by the victory conditions he could still lose the battle, which could mean much greater ignominy (maybe even capture, which would of course mean death!) That’s why Daz decided in turn 6b to ‘get out of there!’

Dispel dice
The Luminark channelled an extra dispel die, as did the magical finger bone carried by the Urbiman priest, which meant, along with just one 6 rolled by the three priests, on several turns the Holiest Army had +3 dispel dice!

Casualties
As the Holiest Army had won their casualty recovery was as good as the rules allow. 1/3 of all destroyed units’ models are recovered, and half of any models lost to units remaining on the field. After applying the recovery rules, they went from 170 flagellant cultists to 109. If they had lost, they would have been almost obliterated. As it is they can still field a good fighting force, perhaps organising the cultists into two 40 strong hordes and a couple of smaller companies (the torch wielding bodyguard and a crossbow company?) They still have the Luminark, or ‘cannone luminosa’, and I reckon I can allow them to have a spare lens tucked away in the baggage for repairs. They have cannons, and mercenaries, and light horse. Father Carradalio still has an army. I’ll have to remove ‘The End is Nigh’ rule from the companies of crossbow and bodyguard because, basically, it is a SILLY rule for such small units.

Strange photographs
The picture of Carradalio on the wall was posed after the battle, and actually shows (for artistic effect – forgive me!) more men than he really had. He was in truth down to three cultists and Vincenzo. Here’s the original ‘in game’ photograph showing the moment Carradalio climbed onto the wall …

(https://i.imgur.com/8qruRBl.jpg)

I had already added the sky and begun editing out the models’ bases but then two things occurred to me …

1. I didn’t like how out of focus the pic was. I don’t really have time to check the quality whilst refereeing the game and had forgotten to take several pics (my usual technique for important moments).

2. How the heck did the standard bearer locked into a pillory manage to climb a ladder and get over the wall? Frenzy sure makes men do some crazy things, but surely not the impossible?



Now, I have painting to do for the next battle – new figures and scenery and modifying old figures. I have two players arranged, just need a third for an NPC force. Game in two weeks! I also have my GM duties re: the aftermath of this battle, and other unfolding events. Good job I love this hobby!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 30, 2018, 07:44:36 AM
That was fantastic. Your ability to tell a story is great. Victory for Morr! Just like RL, every achievement is bittersweet. To me, the way the necromancers pragmatically called it quits seems perfectly in character for someone with their gifts.
Thanks for sharing.  I still have not returned to the workshop but I think a good narrative game will bring me round somewhat. The above is exactly the strength of this hobby and you certainly put the effort in 😺
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: cagicus on July 01, 2018, 09:33:34 AM
Excellent.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on July 01, 2018, 05:30:39 PM
Excellent  :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 10, 2018, 01:01:26 PM
Excellent  :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers:::

What he said! :blush:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 23, 2018, 09:07:18 PM
The Battle For Campogrotta

Prequel: Brass on the Iron Road

It had been half an hour since the army came to a halt. The days of marching were long, but not too tiring, as the road coursed (in the main) downhill, and although ancient, being dwarf-built it was in good repair. Yet none of this meant a quick pace. You might presume that the dwarves were to blame, and you would be right. But it was not their short legs that caused the delay. It was the engines of war they were hauling. More accurately, it was one engine in particular - the massive ‘Cannon Imperial’ named Granite Breaker.

Being summer it was still light even this late in the day, and just like the last nine evenings the entire army was now stretched out along the road side for the best part of a mile, preparing to camp for the night. Apart from the mounted Brabanzon mercenaries, the order of the companies never changed. Some nights the riders lit their fires at the head of the army, other nights elsewhere, presumably camping on some convenient height nearby from which they could keep an eye out for torch lights and such like. But every other body kept its allotted place in the line. The dwarven flying engine, which could hardly be called a ‘company’, also rested in a different place each night - wherever its pilot thought safely solid enough to re-acquaint it with the ground. The road would be the obvious choice, but then the sleeping engine would block the way should an alarm be sounded.

Most of the army’s baggage was at the rear of the column. The heavily-laden wagons had spent each hour of travel discovering, with rattling clunks, every bit of damage done by Granite Breaker’s passage. Now they were very quiet, lined up in an orderly fashion typical of dwarfs. The horses and oxen had been unlimbered and led away to rest somewhere amongst the trees.

It was by the wagons that Glammerscale Hamgorn the dwarven wizard had met his equally unlikely counterpart from the company of Brabanzon mercenaries marching with the army of Karak Borgo, the red-haired, ‘fallen’ damsel Perrette L’Amy. Immediately upon laying eyes on him she had smiled, as if they were old friends, and approached him confidently. She wore a long dress of red wool, full sleeved but unadorned with lace or embroidery, hoist up a little to reveal an inner petticoat of purple. Her long, bright hair was loose and wild, and she had in her hand a part-extended fan, which she clutched to her side. Glammerscale assumed it must be some fashionable affectation amongst Bretonnian ladies, although from what he had heard she was no lady.

(https://i.imgur.com/Qly86ko.jpg)

“A fellow magician!” she said. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one here. I’d heard of you, Master Glammerscale, but couldn’t decide whether to believe what I’d been told.”

“I am indeed a rarity,” he said. “Perhaps now that there are two of us my kin will finally accept me for what I am?”

Perrette’s smile grew wider. “I hope they have not been cruel. I too am something of an outcast, although my problem is that my current companions are often a little too willing to accept me.”

Glammerscale pondered this for a moment. Perrette had not travelled to Tilea with Baron Garoy, but in the company of the Brabanzon mercenaries. He had heard them talk of her two evening’s ago. They did not call her witch or wizard, instead sorceress. Nor did they call her a lady, and as their drinking went on they used much more base terms. The young paladin Baron Garov refused to mention her at all. From the way he winced, it appeared he was even reluctant to hear her name merely mentioned.

“The way of magic is not an easy path,” Glammerscale said diplomatically.

Perrette’s smile seemed more genuine. “And some of us find ways to make it even more difficult for ourselves.”

“No, my lady,” he said. “I would not say we sought the difficulties. They came through no fault of our own. I was born a dwarf, and you were born a peasant.”

“Ah, but was I born such, Master Glammerscale? Or did I ruin my reputation and besmirch my noble blood through dishonour and misdeeds?”

“I meant no insult by what I said,” stuttered Glammerscale. “I merely presumed that …well …”

“Worry not, good master dwarf. Had I been born a lady I would happily have cast aside such a tedious life, such an imprisonment. So, whether you are right or wrong, it does not offend me.”

(https://i.imgur.com/gF6WGRQ.jpg)

Glammerscale noted she had not actually said whether she was a noblewoman or peasant born. Perhaps such mystery could only improve her reputation as a spell-weaver? To know too much about a person can make them appear mundane, and that does not do for a practitioner of the magical arts.

“What think you of this army?” Perrette asked. “Is it sufficient to the task ahead?”

“It is no easy thing,” said Glammerscale, “to oust an army of brutes from a well-fortified city. Still, I believe we have the tools required.”

“Are we two of those tools?” asked Perrette, a twinkle in her eye.

It was Glammerscale’s turn to smile. “I would say, my lady, that were we allowed, we could add a better edge to those tools. The walls of Campogrotta will need some considerable chipping to breach. Anyone who can distract the foe whilst the work is done will be welcome.”

“You say ‘Were we allowed’, master dwarf. Why so? Are we not invited to this dance?”

“You might well need your dancing shoes, but I am afraid it is unlikely I shall attend. King Jaldeog has other things in mind for me, and all his thanes are in agreement.”

Perrette frowned. “I did not know this. Whither are you bound?”

“I shall not be far away. I am to be sent to watch for any relief that might approach. It seems my eyes, despite my need for these glasses, are considered more valuable than any magic I might conjure.”

(https://i.imgur.com/N1H0AW2.jpg)

Glammerscale doubted his explanation had convinced the damsel, as anyone who knew anything about dwarfs knew of their distrust of wizards. He would be ordered off with the scouts, yes, but the real reason was superstition. The thanes and their warriors did not want him bringing bad luck to the army on the day of battle. As Thane Narhak had put it, his  presence upon the field of battle would be disruptive to the cause.

Perrette watched him for a moment. Then her smile returned. “There is no dishonour in that, for the art of war requires such watchfulness.”

“I did not think those you travelled with cared much for honour,” said Glammerscale.

“The Brabanzon! Oh, they care not a jot for it,” she said with a chuckle. “They came with one thing in mind. Well, lots of things in truth, and most of them shiny in some way or another. And such is their desire for plunder that they will fight as well as any knight seeking renown.”

“What does Baron Garoy make of them?”

“He acts as if he is lord over them, though all know he is not. I saw him only half an hour ago inspecting the brigand archers in the van.”

(https://i.imgur.com/X1NPJsf.jpg)

“Lord or not, does he not command them in the field?” asked Glammerscale. “That was the agreement.”

“Oh, they play their part well enough. The archers I saw had already put up their huts and lit their fires before he arrived, yet still they formed into a body before him.

(https://i.imgur.com/iXm4JVM.jpg)

He made a comment or two to the sergeants there, to which they mumbled some sort of answer. I’m sure each and every Brabanzon once served some knight or another. They understand what is expected of them.

(https://i.imgur.com/OSshUC4.jpg)

“By their agreed contract they are to obey his orders in battle, and by Bretonnian custom they are required to bow to him. But they are mercenaries, and as such consider their contract more binding than custom.”

“He is not their paymaster,” said Glammerscale.

“He is not,” agreed Perrette. “He who pays is the true authority. Until the payment is completed.”

“Or perhaps another party offers better payment?”

Perrette laughed. “Normally so, but here and now, in these mountains, who else is there to pay them?”

“Well, they do expect more, by way of plunder. They told me so themselves.”

“Aye,” said the damsel. “And as I said, that expectation will ensure they fight. Not as well as dwarfs, I’m sure.”

Glammerscale decided he liked this woman. He enjoyed her honesty, and the fact that when she did flatter she made it so obviously a game.

“And what do you think of the baron?” he asked.

“Would you have me slander a knight?”

“The truth would serve me better now, whether good or ill.”

“He had his companion with him when I saw him this eve, a standard-bearer carrying his emblem. The tête de cerf blanc … the white stag’s head … upon red and white. He has the standard with him always.”

(https://i.imgur.com/MuE764U.jpg)

“The white stag,” mused Glammerscale, “that can never be captured.”

“The forever chase! You know the stories!” said Perrette, surprised.

“I have read Berthelot’s tales. Book learning is like breathing to me,” said Glammerscale. He was hardly ever without a book about his person. He now knew that Perrette had to be of noble birth, for how could a peasant know of such things? “A strange emblem for a paladin pursuing the rule of Ravola, for then his chase does end.”
 
“Are we to presume the baron chose wisely?” asked the damsel.

“The baron is young, as are all his companions.”

“And wisdom comes with age?”

“To some degree,” laughed Glammerscale. “I wonder what the baron thinks of the Brabanzon?”

“You are kind not to ask what he thinks of me,” she said. “He cannot be happy with the army he has been given. But it is what it is, and beggars can’t be choosers. As long as they prove useful to his ambitions he will tolerate them. I think he has some diplomacy in him, for he feigned not to notice the brigand archers who declined to assemble before him, instead remaining by the fire to drink.”

(https://i.imgur.com/SoKV7Qq.jpg)

“Perhaps the cooking of supper required their attentions?”

“You have some diplomacy in you too, Master Glammerscale. And I thought dwarfs were plain-spoken to a fault.”

Glammerscale laughed again. “I have many faults, ask any dwarf. Being a wizard overshadows all the rest, so most are barely noticed.”

(https://i.imgur.com/tiqpziJ.jpg)

Perette fell silent and studied him for a moment or two, which made him a little uncomfortable.

“I sense an etheric heat about you,” he said, partly to alleviate the discomfort, but moreso out of curiosity. “Will you be conjuring fire in the assault?”

“Aye, I like to play with fire. We’ll come to know the smell of burning ogre before the fight is over. I can't imagine it'll be pleasant.”

“I should think the brimstone stench of the powder will overwhelm all other smells. The scouts have said that every stretch of wall and every tower teems with cannon muzzles, and Granite Breaker will burn tons of the stuff.”

“I shall take great care to throw my fires at the foe, and not to allow even a spark to stray amongst our engines,” Perrette declared. “In truth, having seen the great gun I wonder whether anything I will do will even be noticed by any upon either side!”

“She is indeed a beast!” said Glammerscale with a grin. “Her roar will surely be louder than that of any dragon, and her hunger for powder will make that which feeds an entire battery of ordinary guns seem like a mere appetiser.”

Perrette seemed confused. “You have never seen the gun fire?”

“No. She is very ancient. So old I think there are barely any even amongst dwarfs who have seen her give fire. Do not let her age make you doubt her efficaciousness, however. Cannons are simple constructions, and it is the quality of the cast that counts. She was made of the best brass, by the best gunsmiths, and will be fed a diet of gourmet powder. She is inscribed with powerful, protective runes. I doubt their will be much left of Campogrotta when she finally gets so hot as to risk shivering.”

He had had a chance to inspect the cannon imperial closely two evenings ago, in the company of no less than the army’s general, Narhak, Thane of Dravaz. She had been heavily guarded, as were the wagons of budge barrels that would provide her sustenance. The thane had waxed lyrical about her, telling of a great uncle who swore he had seen her take the top of a mountain off.

(https://i.imgur.com/dNvJ02p.jpg)

She was cast in the form of a dragon and mounted on a carriage so heavy that it alone, if rolled down a hill against a castle wall, could possibly bring it down. The brass had long since tarnished to make her blueish in hue. None had thought to polish her, however, for in the old stories of her destructions she had been blue and proud of it, and no-one wanted to offend her.

She required a regiment of draught animals to haul her, several of which were still nearby as she rested, being the last to have been unhitched.

(https://i.imgur.com/BJYei5r.jpg)

The animals were needed fore and aft of her on the road, in differing proportions according to the chief engineer’s judgement. When going down hill more were needed behind than in front. When the animals were changed, she was held in place by huge wedges, the four of which needed a wagon to themselves. Most of her powder was carried with that of the other guns, but at least one wagon was usually nearby too.

(https://i.imgur.com/ul5lUVK.jpg)

Thane Narhak had said a powder wagon was kept close to reassure her. Considering he had just claimed she had once beheaded a mountain, Glammerscale had the measure of the thane's flights of fancy. After half an hour in her close company, the wizard had decided that his absence from the battle would be of very little consequence with the likes of her blasting at the foe. A field gun was to an ogre as a handgun was to a dwarf, but Granite Breaker was to an ogre as a sledge hammer was to a mouse.

(https://i.imgur.com/HLOgNUv.jpg)

Her Imperial Majesty was not going to Campogrotta to knock down ogres, however. She had to bring down the walls.  Glammerscale had seen those walls himself, and to his knowledge only the mighty walls of Remas were bigger. He had passed the city in the evening, far enough away to avoid being spotted. The gate had ragged banners atop, bearing an image of red mountains - presumably one of Razger’s emblems and not that of the Wizard Lord Niccolo.

(https://i.imgur.com/1qBfBUx.jpg)

It had been under a darkening sky, which combined with Glammerscale’s purblind eyes, meant that although he could make out what must be brutes patrolling the battlements …

(https://i.imgur.com/t1OVA3I.jpg)

… he had not discerned what exactly were the weapons they were carrying. It was Thane Narhak  who had told him what the scouts had seen – cannon barrels carried like handguns.. Not  that there was a smattering of such weapons, but that every ogre upon the walls had one.

(https://i.imgur.com/AKqiF6T.jpg)

Glammerscale did not doubt Granite Breaker would fell Campogrotta’s fortifications. It would take time, however, and he wondered what the serried ranks of cannon barrels might do to those who assaulted the walls or clambered over the rubble during that delay.

“I am sure you are right, master dwarf” said Perrette. “The gun will prove our greatest friend. And I am glad you will be watching the road, for it would be a sad thing indeed for Razger Boulderguts to disturb her while she is so busy.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 23, 2018, 09:50:00 PM
 :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on July 25, 2018, 12:18:23 PM
Excellent writing skills. Nice set up for the battle. Looking forward to seeing the gun at work 😺
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on July 25, 2018, 12:34:22 PM
Excellent writing skills. Nice set up for the battle. Looking forward to seeing the gun at work 😺

Oh yeah, me too. Ka-boom! :icon_twisted:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 03, 2018, 09:02:25 AM
The Assault on Campogrotta
The Battle


The brute defenders upon the city walls had watched for the two hours it took to drag the mighty cannon Granite Breaker into position. They themselves had guns, cannon-barrels no less, which they wielded the way a man might a handgun, but they knew that the enemy was too far away for their shots to have any real effect. So they bided their time, unafraid, for why would brutes fear the antics of the little folk?

The attackers - the dwarfs of Karak Borgo, the paladin Baron Garoy and the Bretonnian Brabanzon mercenary company - had arranged their lines before Granite Breaker was hauled up, ready in full force to thwart any attempted sally from the walls to capture or disable her.

The dwarfs themselves stood closest to the great gun, forming the assaulting army’s left wing. Thane Narhak, their commander (Game note: A lord level character), and the army standard bearer led the warriors. To his right were the Longbeards commanded by Thane Thakolim and accompanied by the Runesmith Rakrik Bronzeborn, then next in line were the Trollslayers. On Narhak’s right were the Thunderers, forming the far flank of the army, each of them itching to moved up to within range of the walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/0jq4ZuO.jpg)

The other missile troops stood behind the main regiments, as their weapons could shoot much further than the Thunderers’ handguns. A regiment of Quarrellers scrutinised the walls from the rear of the Trollslayers, and behind them was a pair of bolt throwers and another of gunpowder pieces. Granite Breaker rested directly behind Thane Narhak and his warriors, who were bracing themselves for the passage of some very large round-shots over their heads. The flying machine fluttered around the army’s flank, its pilot looking beyond the walls to take the measure of the city’s towers – if he was to fly over the walls and into the streets he would need to give the towers a wide berth, otherwise his machine’s spinning wings would shatter.

On the army’s right were the Brabanzon. Captain Lodar ‘the Wolf’ and his ensign Jean de la Salle led the company’s largest regiment, the spearmen, nearest to the centre of the line, and out to their right were the two large bodies of archers and the smaller company of veteran men-at-arms. Their small gun, which they called 'the Piece', like unto a flea compared to the dwarfs’ cannon imperial, had been placed directly in front of the trebuchet all the better to perform its usual role as a guard for the larger engine.

(https://i.imgur.com/QD5TfPr.jpg)

Baron Garoy and his brightly liveried retinue of young knights rode on the far right of the line, to a man wondering what their role in such a fight could be. It seemed to them, despite their hopes, that the enemy had no intention of leaving the walls to sally forth, a reluctance which mirrored their own stubborn reluctance to dismount to fight on foot and climb the ladders.

Considering the fact that Razger Boulderguts had marched the fighting army of Campogrotta out upon his grand raid, the garrison soldiers on the walls were surprisingly numerous, as was the number of leadbelchers amongst them. The southern-most tower was packed with the cannon wielding brutes, as was the next tower to the north, while the wall in between them was guarded by a small body of Ironguts (the latter being part of the city’s standing force).

(https://i.imgur.com/l21aMGb.jpg)

The gate was held by a large company of ogres and a slaughtermaster, while several Maneaters (being the city’s chief ‘constables’) occupied the tower by its side, each sporting a brace of handguns which they could tote like pistols.

(https://i.imgur.com/NihQC6C.jpg)

The long, northerly stretch of the city’s eastern wall was manned by an even larger company of a dozen ogres, and further half a dozen leadbelchers.

(https://i.imgur.com/1HGoT6q.jpg)

The garrison commander, a Slaughtermaster known as Lord Wurgrut (although the title was an affectation and the rest was only part of the name he professed) had climbed to the very top of the tallest tower in the city’s eastern ward from where he could survey not only the full extent of the eastern walls but also the enemy in its entirety.

(https://i.imgur.com/4IcwRYN.jpg)

As the dwarfs employed the crane to heft a weighty roundshot to Granite Breaker’s muzzle, where they could then tip it in, the Slaughtermaster Wurgrut looked down on the leadbelchers in the corner tower …

(https://i.imgur.com/nNoCTzZ.jpg)

… and the Ironguts on the wall adjacent.

(https://i.imgur.com/vlXtRob.jpg)

He decided that they were not best placed to serve in the defence of the city. The wall was where the enemy might gain ingress, which was why the Ironguts where there, but the leadbelchers could hold it just as well, and would have just as good a view of the enemy from the wall as from their tower. So he bellowed orders down, sending the Ironguts along the street behind the wall as a reserve ready to defend wherever any pressure might be felt, while the cannon wielders on the tower were to shift themselves over to the wall.

Now at last satisfied with the disposition of the forces at his command, he thought he might start the fight with a bang. Pausing a moment to recall the strange words of the necessary incantation, then allowing the winds of magic to infuse his bulky frame with potency, he called upon a comet to crash from the heavens. For the briefest of moments he gave himself up to elation, for he could see the comet’s bulk in his mind’s eye. Then, as if he had awakened suddenly from a dream, the comet was gone, snatched from reality the very moment it began to manifest by the dwarfen Runemaster, who employed a talisman to break the power of the spell.

Just as Wurgrut began scouring the enemy lines to spy out who might have been responsible for the thwarting of his spell, the enemy began to move. They advanced almost as one, although out on the right the Bretonnian mercenaries struggled to match the naturally slower pace of the dwarfs and came on a little faster.

(https://i.imgur.com/b6RbaPZ.jpg)

The ‘fallen’ damsel Perrette l’Amy attempted to throw a flurry of fireballs at the walls ...

(https://i.imgur.com/yu2enjL.jpg)

... but the enemy’s second in command, a Slaughtermaster like their general, managed to sap the winds she was employing and her efforts came to nought. The ogre magician could do nothing to prevent the firing of the cannons, however, and all three muzzles were sighted upon the long, northern wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/F8yE8ev.jpg)

The trebuchet crew, whose first shot had merely bounced from the wall, could only look on with envy as all three roundshots smashed into the stone to leave visible cracks and dents. The wall’s defenders, the largest company of bulls in the garrison, peered uncertainly over the crenulations or picked at the cracks that extended up even as far as the parapet and, deciding they would rather defend the fallen ruins than become buried within them, they backed off the wall to take up position behind it.

(https://i.imgur.com/soH7oH1.jpg)

They were not the only ones scrutinising the damage. Baron Garoy, riding his mighty destrier and clad in his heavy battle armour, his shield bearing the image of a white stag’s head and his helm bearing antlers in his livery of gules and argent, had lifted his visor to get a better look. What he saw gave him hope that he and his knightly retinue might be contributing to the fight a lot sooner than he had thought.

(https://i.imgur.com/3nzbVHc.jpg)

The dwarfen crossbows launched a packet of bolts to sting the Maneaters in the tower by the gate, while the Brabanzo longbowmen’s arrows merely clattered and rattled on the wall being vacated by the bulls. The dwarfen thunderers could contribute nothing to this sharp-tipped hailstorm, however, for they were too busy moving forwards just to get into range of the walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/tU9l2u5.jpg)   

End of turn one.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on August 03, 2018, 01:01:16 PM
More stuff from Padre. This is going to be a good Friday. :mrgreen:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 05, 2018, 11:06:52 PM
(Start of Turn 2)

Watching from his high vantage point, Lord Wurgrut saw the dwarfen thunderers were preparing to fire a salvo at the walls, and so summoned an ice shard blizzard to assail them. His second-in-command, following Wurgrut’s lead, also attempted to inflict them with a curse called braingobbler, but he failed to contort the winds of magic sufficiently. Meanwhile, having spied the damsel Perrette, her red dress and hair marking her out very clearly amongst the dirty yellow and green liveried Brabanzon spearmen, the Maneaters in the tower near the gate decided to snipe at her. At first both she and the men around her wondered what the zipping sound was, until one bullet pinged very loudly off the rounded helm of the soldiers and then another cut a gash through her arm. She stumbled, but the man next to her caught her before she fell. Thanking him, she laughed. When he looked at her in puzzlement, she pointed to his surcoat and apologised for the spotted stain of her own blood. He then grinned, and said, “Do not worry yourself, madame, for my clothes are used to being bloodied and the stain on your own dress can barely be seen.”

Moments later a roaring wave of thunderous flashes ran along the wall top as the leadbelchers gave fire. Seven dwarfen thunderers fell, as well as a Brabanzon spearman. The dwarfs barely flinched, however, instead gritting their teeth and continuing to prepare their pieces.

The rest of the assaulting army continued their advance, with the flying machine zipping over their heads, its pilot considering where exactly he could drop his grenade.

(https://i.imgur.com/joKKghc.jpg)

After saying ‘Excuse me’ to the fellow who had helped her to remain on her feet, Perrette held forth her hand to present her ruby ring to the walls, and with a brief word of command conjured a ball of fire to burst against the parapet holding her attackers. Not satisfied with merely singing them, she immediately summoned another fireball to follow and this time one of the leadbelchers fell screaming from the tower, his large flask of powder exploding even before he hit the ground. The men with her gave a cheer, to which she, despite the pain from her wound, replied with a curtsy!

As the sound of the cheer died, it was replaced by another, and although the choir behind the sound was rather smaller, they were no less elated. The Brabanzon’s trebuchet had landed a stone on the damaged wall, and in so doing pierced the first hole to go right through it. Its crew whooped their delight, then shouted across to the dwarfs to get a move on and ‘finish the job off’. Granite Breaker was not quite ready to fire, and so one of the smaller pieces obliged. The ball hit just below where the stone had pierced and for a moment it looked like all it had achieved was to create a second hole, but then a bulge appeared in the stone between the holes, and,  moments later – and without need of further ironshot – the wall came tumbling down.

(https://i.imgur.com/0SntJFm.jpg)

The collapsing masonry poured out fore and aft of the wall, burying two of the bulls behind. There was no time to dig them out. If they weren’t already dead they would soon be. (Game Note: The reason the player had moved the ogres off the wall as it had showed signs of becoming weakened was that according to the modified 6th Ed WFB siege rules higher strength wounds are inflicted received by a unit on a collapsing wall than by a unit standing next[ to the collapse. Nevertheless, we did not expect 2 ogres to perish from the 2D6 str 3 hits they now received.)

Unsurprisingly a great cheer went up along the line at the sight of the breached defences. Granite Breakers’ chief gunner gave these events a little thought and came to the conclusion that the wall had fallen so quickly due mostly to his own gun’s contribution, but that his shot had been aimed slightly out and failed to deliver maximum force, which is why the other machines’ efforts had been required for completion of the task. This did not satisfy him at all. The cannon imperial had already been shifted to aim at another wall – thus the delay in its second firing – so now, using a two-handed mallet, he knocked out one of the four large iron wedges at the breech to lift its muzzle a little and thus alter the flight of the next path. He had measured everything previously with his sight and level, involving much effort in the placing of the instruments on top of the behemoth and the application of considerable mathematical expertise. Now, however, having gained the practical experience of witnessing a shot in action, he had a better feel for the work. Besides, his dissatisfaction had turned into impatience, and he wanted to prove the cannon imperial’s true worth.

Clambering up the steps he grabbed the pike-length linstock and reached it forwards …

(https://i.imgur.com/HEbnJqz.jpg)

… then with considerable trepidation, lowered the burning end of the match-cord towards the line of crushed powder leading to the touch-hole. Just like the previous time, there was a delay as the powder flashed and the burn thrust its way down through the deep hole to the massive charge packed in the belly of the beast. This gave the engineer just time enough to spin about and descend two of the steps before the mighty boom. He hit the ground almost exactly as before, but did not attempt to climb to his feet immediately, instead turned his head to get a quick look at the walls before the smoke of the blast obscured the view.

A second wall as down …

(https://i.imgur.com/1dbgLAY.jpg)

… felled with one blast.

Now he was satisfied.

(Game Note: The siege cannon rules were lifted from our standard Tilean campaign army list, being itself a version of the Treachery and Greed Mercenary Companies army list with added elements from the later Empire of Wolves list. Neither myself nor my players had written these lists, although I had added some extra elements, like Morrite Priests and such like, to adapt it to our game world. The siege cannon is listed as 160 pts, 72” range 2D6 Str 10 wounds, 5 crew which cannot be moved – other than turned 90 degrees or less – after initial placement. It all seemed neatly to fit the model I had obtained and painted for the dwarfs.)

The cheering renewed before even having died away, now growing even louder than before. The third cannon chipped at the tower, and although the bolt throwers could not perfect their aim against such a concealed foe, the crossbow dwarfs killed one of the Maneaters.

What had seemed an almost impossible challenge to the attackers was now beginning to look like a distinct possibility - they could win this battle.

(https://i.imgur.com/jycQjGL.jpg)

The assaulting army was drawing near, and the defences were breached in not one but two places.

End of Turn 2.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on August 06, 2018, 12:21:11 AM
Wow, and what an assault it is! :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 06, 2018, 09:40:05 PM
Third part of the Assault on Campogrotta – Turns 3 and 4

The Ironguts now raced up towards the breaches while a second body of ogres reformed behind the ruins of the wall they had once occupied. The two Slaughtermasters, despite knowing they needed their magic to bite, failed to conjure anything that could harm, or even simply slow down, the foe.

(Game Note: Cast:Dispel dice = 6:6. The Brabanzon spearmen passed their panic text due to a successful casting of Braingobbler)

The Maneaters, having spotted who was responsible for their mate’s demise, blasted everything they had at the maiden Perrette, but such was their fury that it ruined their aim! The three companies of leadbelchers spread their efforts more widely, killing three Brabanzon spearmen, two dwarven thunderers and damaging the flying machine.

None of this was sufficient to dishearten the assaulting army, and so on it came.

(https://i.imgur.com/Tbp776j.jpg)

Damaged, but still able to fly, the dwarven flying machine now crossed over the walls, dropping its bomb as it passed to bloody the bulls below. Turning abruptly, it came to a halt atop one of the city’s inner towers, where the pilot leaned and twisted all ways to assess the damage received.

 (https://i.imgur.com/nf34XIy.jpg)

Perrette had just as little luck as the Slaughtermasters with her own attempts to summon up magical harm, her concentration being jarred both by her wound and the cacophony of noise, what with cannons booming and walls collapsing close by.

While Baron Garoy took the chance to break away from the line and make better speed towards the breaches …

(https://i.imgur.com/0QBzWLf.jpg)

… the attacking army shot everything it had at the walls. Granite Breaker caused the tower by the gate to collapse partially, while one of the smaller cannons wounded the slaughtermaster upon it, as well as one of the Maneaters with him, bringing down the parapet to boot. This sudden removal of the stone hiding the maneaters gave several others an unexpected opportunity, and although the bolt throwers both missed, the dwarven crossbows killed another of the veteran brutes. The third cannon could only shake the tower once more, while the trebuchet landed a stone upon the bulls nearby, bloodying one of them. The crew of the Brabanzon’s little piece joined their fellows’ efforts, yet only managed to bury their shot into the ground before the walls.

The largest of the bull regiments now argued whether they should sally out or not, in the end simply standing their ground out of an inability to decide. Behind them Wurgrut was not so hesitant and tore down the towers stairs to run out onto the street.

(https://i.imgur.com/mICUAfw.jpg)

The enemy were getting so close to the walls that he had decided he needed to be where he could get to grips with them. While he ran he conjured chain lightning, killing a trollslayer but failing to reach any other units. From the street he threw a magical blizzard of ice shards up at the flying machine, once again damaging it.

While one company of leadbelchers now brought down two of the knights riding with the young baron, the other two companies both aimed at the dwarven thunderers, killing nine of them. The remaining pair made a sorry sight indeed, but they did not run.

(https://i.imgur.com/HPZjXvJ.jpg)

Perhaps because there was so much in front to distract them, the ogres entirely failed to notice they had left the northern wall open to the enemy’s possession, and so it was that the Brabanzon brigands, a company of skirmishing archers, threw up some ladders and occupied it.

(https://i.imgur.com/k88o83W.jpg)

(Game Note: Embarrassingly the ogre player, Jamie, had failed to take account of the wall to the side, and until now had not thought it was accessible to attack!)

While they did so Baron Garoy led a charge across the rubble into the leadbelchers …

(https://i.imgur.com/FhpQTgY.jpg)

… and the trollslayers charged into the bulls.

(https://i.imgur.com/zzfZwy8.jpg)

The mounted knights struck hard at the brutes, killing one and wounding another seriously, which disheartened to foe so much that they turned to flee away. They did not get far before lance points thrust deep into their backs to kill the rest of them. Such was their urge to have at the foe, however, that two knights fell in the act of simply crossing the rubble, their steeds’ legs broken.

The trollslayers fought not one jot less bravely than the Bretonnian chivalry and took down two of the ogres as well as wounding a third. Moments later, however, they were all dead, beaten to a pulp or crushed under foot by foes standing more than thrice their height!

While these vicious struggles were fought, Perrette poured out every fire spell she could muster, burning the bulls at the gate but failing to kill any of them. Between them the dwarven Quarrellers and one of the bolt throwers killed the last of the Maneaters, leaving the Slaughtermaster alone. For a moment he glared at the foe with hatred, then realised he had to decide quickly what to do now. He was not quick enough, however, for the Brabanzon’s two wrs machines hit the already badly damaged tower, shaking it visibly, then, as one of the smaller dwarfen cannons misfired, the other punched so hard that at last the tower fell.

 (https://i.imgur.com/rlD268e.jpg)

The Slaughtermaster came tumbling down with it, somehow staying above the rubble to avoid any real injury, while one of the trollslayers fightingnearby was killed, just before a bull could do it! Close by, Granite breaker punched a visible hole in the wall by the gate, but as yet nothing big enough to assault through.

Campogrotta’s defences were being torn to pieces!

End of turn 4

Game note: Siege games are 7 turns long, and as mentioned in the previous campaign battle report, victory conditions are all about how many sections of the defences are held by each side at the end of turn 7. As GM I had, at the start of the game, agreed with the players that as well as the wall, tower and gate sections I had identified and numbered at the start of the game, I would count one or more units roaming freely inside of the city as one controlled section, and in the event of a draw, if an assaulting unit had passed over a section which remained unoccupied by any defenders I would also count that as a controlled section. All this meant, despite appearances, that victory was still ‘very much up for grabs’.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on August 07, 2018, 06:15:01 AM
I finally found the time to catch up on the last three entries. The fire alarm mysteriously went off and finally had to be disabled. One of the cats was pacing non stop so out the door it went and I had just finished earlier in the day binging on Netflix ‘paranormal survivors’ so the alarm and the bloody cat were enough to ruin my sleep at 2:00 am. Not to put this fortunate time to waste, I decided it was time to get caught up while I also was able to fend off my ‘paranormal intruder’ who likes to set off alarms and worry cats. Not a worthy afterlife ambition at all I would say.

Fantastic battle Padre. Granite breaker is living up to its rep. I love these seige battles. I think I’m sufficiently distracted enough to go back to bed. I think I have a battle plan in my head now for my leap back into the fray. Looking forward to the next 3 rounds. Go dwarfs!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 08, 2018, 10:12:12 PM
Thanks Artoban. It was an epic effort to put this one together, but I still want to do another as soon as possible! Got my GM duties first for the 'end of season' phase.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fourth and Final Part of the Assault on Campogrotta – Turns 5 - 7

While the Ironguts moved down the street in pursuit of the Bretonnian knights and Wurgrut’s lieutenant moved to occupy one of the city’s inner towers …

(https://i.imgur.com/9LVsNYH.jpg)

… Wurgrut himself went to join the bulls defending the breach nearest to the gate.

(https://i.imgur.com/Paql3oS.jpg)

Neither slaughtermaster could conjure anything from the winds of magic to trouble the enemy, but a hail of lead-belcher shot finally destroyed the dwarven flying machine, which tumbled down into the street with a crunch.

The brigand archers hurried from the northern wall to occupy the corner tower, thus allowing the Brabanzon’s veteran men at arms to clamber onto the wall using the same ladders …

(https://i.imgur.com/ICEYuW5.jpg)

… while Baron Garoy ordered his knights to turn about and prepare to receive the inevitable charge from the Ironguts hurtling along the street behind.

The damsel Perrette summoned another burning orb to throw at the enemy, slaying two of the bulls massed behind the fallen stones, just as the small Brabanzon gun felled a third. Moments later a huge round-shot from Granite Breaker caused the wall by the gate to collapse, killing another pair of ogres in the fall. The brutes’ dying cries, the foul stench of burning flesh and the sight of bent limbs reaching from the rubble only made the rest of the bulls angrier, more determined to stand their ground. 

From the tower’s vantage point, Wurgrut’s lieutenant looked down on the battered bulls below.

(https://i.imgur.com/4ZL7zjp.jpg)
 
He sensed their frustration at simply standing to receive shot after shot, both magical and mundane, being ingloriously whittled away. So he shouted: “Go on then, go!”

This was all it took for the bulls to yield to their inbred desire for a fight, and they scrambled over the rubble to charge into the Brabanzon spearmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/1s1iYXE.jpg)

The fight was quick and nasty. Lodar somehow avoided facing the bulls’ champion, and instead cut deep into the flesh of two other bulls while the spearmen’s sergeant dodged the champion’s powerful blows. Despite her injury, Perrette spun with an elegance learned from a dancing master in her youth to avoid another huge club. Had it hit, it would have crushed her entire body to a pulp. Six spearmen died, half of them perishing from the mere impact of the hulking foes, while only two ogres were slain. The Brabanzon had the weight of numbers, however, and pressed on aggressively, presenting a wall of sharp, jabbing spear tips before them. When the remaining two bulls realised their mistake, they foolishly attempted to return to the defences. They never reached them, and the Brabanzon stepped over their corpses to come right up to the rubble.

(https://i.imgur.com/LMSGuOP.jpg)

Wurgrut summoned magical lightning to fry three of the brigand archers in the northern corner tower, then the arching lines of burning light shifted their fury to the men at arms approaching below, killing another four. Up on the still-standing walls and tower the leadbelchers were re-loading and firing as fast as they could, killing several of the Dwarven Longbeards and Warriors drawing ever closer to the breaches.

Just as the knights had managed to re-order themselves, the Ironguts came smashing into them …

(https://i.imgur.com/bBPwnJe.jpg)

… to begin a bout of hacking and slashing from both sides. Thick skin, metal armour and the protective blessing the knights had prayed for before the battle, all conjoined together to prolong the fight. Here and now Baron Garoy was learning what a real fight was like, and it was a lesson he embraced with open (mailed) arms!

(https://i.imgur.com/LqqbNIR.jpg)

The men at arms upon the nearby wall now attacked the Ironguts’ flank, some striking down from the wall itself, and although they lost two of their number in so doing, their intervention shifted the odds significantly. When one Irongut was cut down, his blood spattering all around, the remaining pair staggered backwards, looking for a way to escape. Baron Garoy laughed as he and his knights spurred their horses on to follow fast, thrusting their lance tips through the enemies’ grey flesh and riding right over the ruins back outside the city!

The most northerly quarter of the city was now overrun, but the ogre garrison was not yet beat. Wurgrut moved into the ruined tower by the similarly ruined gate while the leadbelchers above moved to re-position themselves all the better for the fight yet to come. Wurgrut conjured a powerful blast of wind to blow the men at arms from the wall in the north, but so agitated had he become he lost his hold on the winds of magic and allowed them to dissipate before he could spin them into a new spell. Somewhat dazed, he now watched the dwarven warriors approaching hesitantly (Game Note: Failed charge), while the Longbeards began climbing, in a similarly cautious manner, over the rubble to his left.

(https://i.imgur.com/phH7RRN.jpg)

Behind him, the Brabanzon spearmen had already entered the city and were making their way along the street running parallel to the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/MiRsbz0.jpg)

A stone from the trebuchet landed amidst the remains of the last regiment of bulls, killing another of their number, while the rest of the allies’ artillery merely chipped grey stone and bloodied grey flesh here and there. Granite Breaker’s huge ball ploughed deep into the earth, whilst the score of quarrels that clattered all around Wurgrut merely nicked and pricked at his grizzled flesh.

……………………………………………………….

Game Note: This was the end of turn 7, thus the end of the game. According to the siege game rules, based on the relative numbers of wall and tower sections controlled by each side, the result was a draw! Neither a minor victory or victory. This meant that the next campaign turn – which will be turn 1 of the next season, Autumn IC 2403 - the besiegers would still be attacking, and the defenders would still be defending.

Of course, if I just stopped the story at this point it would be a VERY odd ending, as the attackers look very much to have the upper hand. If they simply carried on as they were already doing victory would almost certainly be theirs. But ‘rules is rules’, and my players are playing competitively, which in turn drives the campaign’s story. Both sides knew the victory conditions and had been playing to achieve them. And so I was now left with the need to write an at least vaguely convincing story ending which explained the fact that the attackers had failed to take the city, thus prolonging the siege.

Here is that story ending.


……………………………………………………….

The brigand archers peered over the parapet of the tower they had captured …

(https://i.imgur.com/jB6QDOv.jpg)

… watching as their Brabanzon comrades made their way down the street below. They could see also that the dwarven Longbeards were clambering across the tumbled-ruins of the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/tvPCep9.jpg)

Immediately below them the young baron led his knights back over the ruins a third time to re-enter the city, their mounts bucking and rearing at being forced yet again to traverse such precariously difficult ground.

(https://i.imgur.com/gdgmq8i.jpg)

One by one, however, the brigands realised something had changed – the artillery had fallen silent. They turned to look across the field before the walls and could see the guns were still were they had been, with full complements of crewmen. They were not being troubled by attackers. They had ceased firing for some other reason. Perhaps, suggested one of the brigands, they don’t want to harm the soldiers now entering the city? Or, said another, maybe they have run out of powder?

The truth was that the cannon imperial’s chief gunner had commanded a cessation in firing. There had been something about the sound of the last shot and the gun’s bucking, shaking movement in so doing, that concerned him. Something was not quite right, which foreboded ill.

(https://i.imgur.com/Y59N4Hc.jpg)

The ancient gun had done good service, and no doubt if she were to continue in like manner, she could take down the last of the city’s eastern defences. But he had not liked what he had seen and heard, and a torrent of thoughts were now tumbling through his mind. He was not at all a superstitious fellow, so his concerns all had a very practical bent: Had the tarnishing of the barrel over the years somehow weakened it - either its bronze fabric or the runic wards protecting it? Was the powder they were using too potent compared to the ancient powder Granite Breaker's barrel was forged to withstand? Had the journey down the road weakened the carriage dangerously so that the next shot would bring ruin to both the great gun and those who tended her?

He would not risk it, and so had signalled a stop with a crossed sweep of his arms.

Inside the city Perrette and the men she was with suddenly came to a halt.

(https://i.imgur.com/ITGh68M.jpg)

Before them was a sight that sapped every ounce of will they had to advance any further, and they could clearly see the dwarven Longbeards who had been climbing over the rubble ahead were of a like mind. The last few of the ogre bulls up ahead had fallen back from the wall, moving a little way down a street leading away from the wall. In so doing they had revealed the brutes further on, each and every one clutching a cannon barrel, standing ready to fire.

(https://i.imgur.com/hjtbFt6.jpg)

To approach any closer, down such a narrow, stone street, would surely mean certain death. Men and dwarves halted, while the enemy watched and waited. One Longbeard scrabbled back to see why the artillery had ceased its efforts, while the Brabanzon spearmen shouted up to the brigands behind to ask what had happened. Within moments, both men and dwarves realised that there would be no further barrage to blast the walls and towers beside this monstrous battery of barrels.

Perrette studied the enemy through narrowed eyes, knowing she had no more magic in her. Her rage had been transformed into fear, and the loss of blood from her wound was beginning to make her feel faint. The soldier by her side dropped his spear to take a hold of her instead. Up ahead one of the brutes was smiling cruelly. With one hand raised he crooked a finger to beckon them on, while in his mouth he held a smouldering match dangling over his piece’s pan.

“In the morrow,” came a cry from the dwarfs, who began to back away. This was all the Brabanzon needed to make up their mind, and they too left, scrambling as fast as they could over the fallen masonry and between the ragged edges of the torn walls. Before long all the other attackers had left the walls, towers and streets also, to return to the siege lines.

There was to be a lull in the assault, at least until the guns were ready to recommence their brutal barrage. Not one man nor dwarf thought they had lost the battle, for soon, victory would surely be theirs. The city could not escape and its garrison was without a doubt mortally wounded. But it would be a victory without needless slaughter amongst their own. They needed their strength if they were to take the other Campogrottan settlements, to recapture the realm of Ravola for Baron Garoy, and if needs be, to face whatever army Boulderguts brought back with him from his plundering of Tilea. Besides, as the Brabanzon declared by their fires that night, “What use is plunder to a dead man?”

They knew had the right tools for the job. They simply had to wait until the time was right too.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on August 08, 2018, 11:41:06 PM
Great after dinner read. Simply fantastic. You really make your characters and army’s feel alive and possessed of soul. That ending was a great and realistic way to explain the the result. You could feel the the instinct to avoid a foolish death when the dwarf cried out. Very pragmatic. Look forward to your  next installment.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 08, 2018, 11:57:25 PM
Thanks Artobahn. Just had to correct a bit when I realised a leadbelcher was gesturing with one hand while holding a matchcord in the other, leaving no hands left to hold his cannon barrel! Oops! I have now stuffed the matchcord into his mouth to dangle down from there!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Xathrodox86 on August 09, 2018, 01:24:02 PM
Great after dinner read. Simply fantastic. You really make your characters and army’s feel alive and possessed of soul. That ending was a great and realistic way to explain the the result. You could feel the the instinct to avoid a foolish death when the dwarf cried out. Very pragmatic. Look forward to your  next installment.

Yeah, Padre's posts seriously read like a great, military fiction. :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 25, 2018, 08:07:17 PM
Antonio Mugello’s letter to Lord Lucca Vescussi of Verezzo at the end of Summer 2403

My purpose, my lord, as ever, is to inform you of everything of import I have learned concerning the great affairs of Tilea. Removed as I am from your person I know you will have a much better grasp than I of the events unfolding in your own realm and your own camp, as well as of the forces in your vicinity, whether allied or foe. But it seems to me that even the knowledge I have concerning what is believed here in Remas of these things (howsoever familiar to you), what information has been passed, what rumours circulate and what assumptions are made, could prove to be of great use to you. Once my offerings are combined with what you yourself know and what other trusted agents have reported to you, then you can all the better judge not only the truth concerning the situation across Tilea, but also what various parties believe to be the truth. Thus you might discover where all the pieces lie, what advantages or disadvantages the players in this great and terrible game believe they possess, as well as what they actually possess.

Having returned from Urbimo to Remas, I have been welcomed into the court of the arch-lector Bernado Ugolini, who, having expressed his love and respect for you, has allowed me to attend upon him regularly, and even to join his counsellors, both religious and secular, in their consultations with his holiness. Much in Remas, at least what is left of Remas, has returned to the way it was before the rising of the Disciplinati di Morr. Those amongst the nobility who survived the frenzied mob, whether by hiding or fleeing, have returned to their houses, albeit bereft of many servants and beloved family, and with the departure of the cultist army, the streets are no longer ruled by the clubs and whips of intolerant (if most holy) faith. The Reman overlord, Domenico Matuzzi, has nominated the arch-lector as his deputy, while he lies ill abed after his rough handling as hostage of the Disciplinati. Apparently, the dedicants subjected him to the torture of strappado, and when they discovered his toes could reach the ground, they dug the earth from beneath him that he might suffer all the more.

Yet while there is thankfulness at the Disciplinati’s departure, I perceive little in the way of hatred. It seems to me that most Remans believe Father Carradalio and his flagellating dedicants are still Tilea’s best hope against the armies of the vampire duchess; a necessary, lesser evil through which a far greater evil can be defeated. One cannot beat a foe in battle without drawing blood, they say, although here the blood drawn belonged to the self-scourging dedicants and those Remans they killed in their efforts to cleanse the city in the eyes of holy Morr. Like so many gods, Morr has many faces, many moods. He might visit gentle dreams upon the innocent, and welcome the departed into his blissful garden, yet is also capable of furious anger against those who transgress against him and think to rebel against his authority, and is manifestly able to inflict great suffering and punishments far and wide through his most loyal servants.

Such is the lesson the orthodox Morrite priests preach in their Reman sermons. Once again, the ancient city realm is embraced by gentle Morr, his funerary lullabies gifting peaceful slumber, of both the great and petty kind, to all, as and when is right, even while his righteous anger is vented through his faithful and fanatic servants in the north. 

The army of the Disciplinati di Morr marched solemnly from the city and traveled the road to Urbimo. There many more flocked to join its ranks, urged to do so by their newly tyrannical ruler Barone Pietro Cybo. Some say he so encouraged them simply to remove them from his realm and so prevent their further murderous tumults. Yet others report it was he himself who ordered the cruel purging and that he has personally joined the army. Whatever the truth, the Disciplinati wasted no time in marching upon Viadaza, where they threw themselves at the defences until (it is said) their dead piled so high before the vampires’ swirling blades they could climb their comrades’ corpses to the parapets. Whether this claim be true, they nevertheless suffered very great casualties, harming themselves almost as violently as the enemy to maintain the furious pitch of their frenzy in the face of such horrors. They did not falter, as so many have done before, and the enemy was driven back even unto the wharves, thence to decrepit boats and into the sea, and the Disciplinati re-took the city for the living once again.

The arch-lector has received a letter from an agent he has amongst the Disciplinati’s ranks, which has revealed much concerning events after the city’s re-conquest. The army stayed a while, hoping, at the least, to begin the second cleansing of the streets, to make the city fit once again for the living. Viadaza had suffered greatly, yet again, at the hands of the undead, and as ever their curse lingered. Those who attempted to sleep within the walls found their nightmares escaping their slumbers, the sound of screams crossing from the oneiric to the material realm, from man to man, house to house, street to street. There were false alarms almost every hour, until the third night when the nightmare became real. The army awoke to discover half a dozen of their number had been slain. In the light of day, opinions regarding the killings differed widely – some thought it was a ritual self-flagellation gone insanely wrong, with the city’s feral dogs attacking to finish off the pain-sated cultists. Others declared the enemy’s apparent departure had been a trick, and this was the work of no less than a vampire - perhaps Adolfo, who knew the city so well, its every nook and cranny, having ruled it in both life and undeath, or even the duchess herself?

The next night more perished, and all now accepted that their bloody fight for Viadaza was not yet ended. The vampire duchess had assuredly left something behind, skulking in the alleyway shadows and the depths of the sewers. While the arch-lector prayed for holy guidance, and others cried the city had become so stubbornly tainted with repeated possession by the undead that it should be burnt to the very ground, the Disciplinati’s admonitor, Brother Vincenzo, took it upon himself to lead a hunt through the nocturnal streets.

(https://i.imgur.com/k9qg66P.jpg)

They found and slew a large pack of ghouls, raining crossbow darts upon them, but they could discover no sign of a vampire.

Two days later, having taken what little Viadaza had left to offer for the army’s supply (which was diminishing fast even after Urbimo had given all that it could) the Disciplinati marched out take the road leading north to the famous bridge at Palomtrina. But something left the city in the Morrite warriors' wake, creeping after them to make the nights upon the road as bloody as those within the walls. One morning, a week or so into the march, a dozen of Captain Vogel’s veteran guards were found in a heap, their throats torn open, their ribs wrenched from their bodies, their chests bereft of sanguine organs.

Thus is the grim nature of a march into the realm of vampires. The last report received mentioned how at night only half the army sleeps, while the rest remain waking and watchful. The Praepositus Generalis’s tent is surrounded by a ring of bodyguards, holding a blessed-flamed torch to light the whole night and ensure Father Carradalio is never, even for a moment, left unguarded.

(https://i.imgur.com/j6vkWl0.jpg)

And yet, for all this suffering and torment, and the victory achieved by it, it seems the Disciplinati di Morr were too late in attacking Viadaza. The duchess had already dispatched an army from there to Trantio, to strike much further south than ever before. There the graveyards were ripe for robbing, as the realm had lay abandoned ever since Boulderguts’ brutes had chased the populace and their new Pavonan masters away. It was Duke Guidobaldo who brought the report of this undead army, returning unexpectedly from a last, desperate attempt to bring Razger Boulderguts to account. Before he could catch the ogres and so recover the vast store of plunder torn from his own realm and others, his found his way blocked by a large force of undead. As he commanded only a remnant of his once mighty Pavonan army, bolstered by only a handful of small companies of Reman soldiers loaned by the arch-lector, the enemy was far too strong to take on. And so he came back to Remas demanding more soldiers from the arch-lector.

I was not invited to attend the councils of war, presumably because Duke Guidobaldo knows me to be a loyal Verezzan, and that I am fully aware of his several many past insults and threats against you, and so I cannot say whether he wanted these in order to attack the undead or merely to obtain sufficient strength to sidestep them and continue his vengeful pursuit of the brutes. Yet while the secret councils were held, the loose-tongued Pavonan soldiery drank hard in the taverns and inns, as is a soldier's wont, and began telling tales of what their scouts had seen.

Trantio, perhaps the geographical heart of the peninsula, is now in the possession of vampires. They arrived with an army of robe-clad zombies, the same Morrite dedicants who had in life served Calictus II, now reanimated to serve their former enemies, their very existence a mockery to all that the Church of Morr and its cults stand for. Immediately upon arrival its soldiers set about tearing open the necropolises of Trantio, the tombs of Scorccio and the graveyards of the villages of Preto lying between.

(https://i.imgur.com/sTAsoh6.jpg)

Large when it arrived, the vampires’ army can only have grown greater in strength since, garnering a vast harvest of corpses to swell its ranks, so that now the bony remains of long-dead, noble men-at-arms once more gallop through the streets …

(https://i.imgur.com/ty0aa21.jpg)

… and ancient legions muster beneath the filthy, rotten remnants of banners untouched by sunlight for centuries. The streets swarm with walking corpses, a busy, hellish crowd moving hither and thither at the behest of their vampire masters.

(https://i.imgur.com/wzU447Y.jpg)

None here, even the divinely inspired arch-lector of Morr, knows exactly what the vampire duchess is attempting to achieve, for she has never seen fit to advertise her intentions, but until now, apart from (and despite) the set-backs she has faced along the way, she has pushed her foul armies ever further into the living realms. If her actions alone are taken into account, then it seems she intends to conquer the entire peninsula until she becomes the dark reflection of an ancient empresses of old, perhaps rivaling in power the mighty Kings of Khemri beyond the deserts of the Southlands?

When I learned that you yourself, my lord, were at Astiano, less than 30 leagues south of Trantio, a great fear assailed me. But I was reassured when it was also reported that you not only had a stout force of Verezzans, but that both Lord Alessio Falconi and the young King Ferronso and their armies were also with you. The arch-lector told me that even if he were to order every soldier in Remas to join with the Pavonan army and march as allies against the foul conquerors of Trantio, they could not hope to prevail, for not only was the Pavonan army a mere shadow of its former self, but the wars against ogres and vampires, and the bloody unrest in the city, had much reduced the Reman army too. Yet he was not downhearted, and indeed smiled when he told me of his joy that you, my noble lord, had marched north with a mighty allied army, far greater in strength than that any he could field, and without a doubt greater than the force possessed by the enemy. Furthermore, if it is true that the army of the VMC is also marching north from Alcente, something you my lord will know with more certainty than I, and is committed to assisting in this great struggle, then the vampire duchess cannot possibly endure the force of the onslaught. The soldiers of the VMC are veterans of the war against Khurnag’s Waagh, and as the trading company is prospering General Valckenburgh’s is likely to command a substantial force.

(https://i.imgur.com/srQMMoj.jpg)
(A regiment of militia pikemen march before Lord Lucca Vesucci of Verezzo, upon the road before the gates of Astiano.)
(https://i.imgur.com/N3ENehh.jpg)

His holiness happily confessed that even if you had marched north intending solely to destroy the ogres, Morr’s will was surely behind that intention, drawing you northwards in this hour of need, just as the undead began to strike so far south.

I know that to write of these things might be considered foolish, for should this missive fall into enemy hands they would have intelligence of your whereabouts and the nature of your joint forces, but I write only what I have heard, which is what enemy spies will also have heard. You yourself know your true situation, my lord, here I simply present to you what reports are already commonly circulating, that you might know what is believed or suspected by friend and foe alike.

Continued below ...
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 25, 2018, 08:07:41 PM
News has come also of a new war in the north-east. The mountain King Jaldeog has mustered an army of dwarfs (a thing previously believed by many in Tilea, including the well-informed, to be long since impossible), bolstered by a Bretonnian mercenary company known as the Brabanzon and a petty-noble claimant to the realm of Ravola, Baron Garoy. This force he has sent down the Iron Road to Campogrotta, there to besiege the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/kGKNxa5.jpg)

The dwarfen king sent out a declaration that he was not only tired of waiting for the wizard Lord Niccolo and his brute servants to satisfy Karak Borgo concerning its ancient trading rights, but insulted by their disrespect. Nicolo and his cruel lieutenants have shown careless indifference to the dwarfs’ need to pass to and fro through Campogrotta in order to reach every other Tilean state, and so have made all trade impossible. Thus it is that King Jaldeog has seen fit to invest a considerable portion of his treasure hoard in a war to rectify the situation, as well as to punish the slight.

King Jaldeog’s army contains an ancient engine of war of such a massive size that the like has not been seen in Tilea for centuries. If it were not for the dwarf-built road, it is unlikely such an engine could possibly have traversed from the mountain fastness to the great walled city. The iron shots hurled from this behemoth are said to be nigh upon one hundred pounds in weight …

(https://i.imgur.com/XCzlt6L.jpg)

… and capable of punching through a stone wall twenty feet thick. I cannot profess to know the dimensions of Campogrotta’s defences, but whatever they be, considering dwarfs are said to be the very founders of the art of gunnery, masters of brimstone and saltpetre, and able to inscribe potent magical runes to improve their cannons beyond their merely natural potential and so make them better than any forged by man, the walls surely cannot stand for long against such a battering.

Furthermore, the surviving half of the Compagnia del Sole (those previously serving in Estalia, equal at least in strength to the Tilean force destroyed in the War of the Princes) are reportedly marching eastwards to reinforce King Jaldego’s army. This famous mercenary company is an army in itself, and so as it circumnavigates the vampire duchess it has every chance of fending off anything she might dispatch to impede its progress. And if they do rendezvous with the dwarfs and Brettonians at Campogroatta, then the ogre tyrant Razger Boulderguts is sure to receive a very harsh welcome indeed upon returning with his plunder.

This is presuming Razger Boulderguts does return. He has moved northwards once again, that much is certain, but no-one can claim to know his exact whereabouts, and certainly not his next move. It seems to me that there are several possibilities, including rendezvousing with another force from the east, like he did with Mangler’s Band. He surely has sufficient plunder to hire another such force. Or perhaps he himself will return to the Border Princes whence both he and Mangler came, now that he is enriched with a vast train of plunder? That may well have been his intention from the moment he marched into Tilea. Then again, he might turn yet again to strike at another Tilean town not yet razed, perhaps Scozzese or Pavona, or a combination of the two, or even push further southwards. He might join with the vampire duchess, if the rumours of their secret alliance are true, all the better to continue his raids, and so provide more ruinous places for the undead to possess. He has proved to be the sort of commander who can withdraw from the field of battle when it becomes clear that neither he nor the foe can win, only mutually batter each other into oblivion, as happened upon the Via Diocleta, then it seems to me that he is not the sort to take proud umbrage at the dwarfs laying siege to a city he once captured and, for a time, simply used as a base for his raids. I think it entirely possible that he never intended to remain in Campogrotta, but only lingered there to gain sufficient strength for his grand chevauchee.

Sailors have continued to voice their concern about the reported sightings of ratto uomo in the Tilean sea, even upon the western coast, suggesting the vermin could be probing for weaknesses now that Tilea’s armies are distracted by the wars against the duchess and Boulderguts. Such have been their fears for many seasons now, perhaps suggesting there is in truth nothing new occurring, but rather a fear-induced exaggeration of little more than the usual, occasional encounters. More recently, however, and more feasible by far, are the reports of a sudden increase of Sartosan pirate vessels in the Current, bearing towards Sartosa. Both a Portomaggioran captain and a VMC ship’s master whom I questioned were of the opinion that the Pirate Council is gathering a fleet in order to launch a substantial raid upon the Tilean coast now that its defenses were vitally weakened. Such would certainly explain the noticeable reduction of small-scale piracy along the western coast, as any vessels normally engaged in such would be returning to attend the fitting of the fleet.

It cannot be known here in Remas who currently holds sway over the pirate council, for even if a name is reported, the ruling captain can change from day to day, from vote to vote, so that any person mentioned might already have been supplanted. Nevertheless, the name Captain Leopold Volker has been circulating the wharves and warehouses for some time now.

(https://i.imgur.com/Q1C5Is6.jpg)

From what I have gleaned, Volker appears to have obtained a firm grip on the council, which in itself could be the very reason that the Sartosans are now apparently cooperating in a much more unified manner, and possibly embarking upon an enterprise which would require a whole fleet and an entire army of bucanieri. Whether or not he still commands, I cannot say.

(https://i.imgur.com/VoD1sPm.jpg)

Admittedly, some others claim that the lack of petty pirateering is due instead to the Sartosans’ fear of the ratto uomo, or perhaps even because they have suffered attacks themselves, but this seems (for the aforementioned reasons) unlikely.

Here, if you will oblige me my lord, I must pass on to you a plea made only yesterday by the arch-lector. He is most concerned that the rumours of a Sartosan raid might cause either King Ferronso or Lord Alessio, or both, to turn away from the vital task in hand and lead their armies home, the better to ensure their cities’ safety. Luccini lies closest to the Isle of Sartosa, and as such is likely either to be the target of the pirates’ raid, or perhaps a stepping stone for them as they make their way along the coast towards a richer prize. Portomaggiore is, if the wind and currents are conducive, only a little further away.

More gravely, his holiness spoke to me regarding his concern about your intentions, for it seems to him that the proximity of the VMC’s army to Verezzo, after their cruel raiding of the Camponeffro region of Raverno two years ago, when that realm was riven with rebellion and already suffering, might mean that you too turn away from the war against the vampires due to concern for Verezzo’s safety. I myself admitted to the arch-lector that as Razger Bouldergut’s whereabouts is currently unknown, it must also occur to both you, Lord Alessio and the young king that the ogre tyrant - known to be a slippery foe full of tricks when it comes to taking places by surprise - might have looped about, circumnavigating your forces in order to strike at any or all of the more southern realms now that their defending armies have been lured away.

He thus asked me to reassure you that General Jan Valckenburgh of the VMC has solemnly promised that he wishes only to assist in the fight to defeat the vampire duchess and her minions, and that he himself witnessed the mauling of Razger Boulderguts' army at the Via Diocleta, and so cannot believe the ogre currently has sufficient force remaining to pose a threat to the southern realms. And so, his holiness instructed me to pass on his humble plea urging you to remain just long enough to drive away the vampires from Trantio, or at the least that you leave sufficient forces for this task. He suggests that whatever force you allow to remain might rendezvous with the Reman and Pavonan armies in order to form an allied army large enough to ensure success. He is keen to impress upon you that the consequences of turning back now would most likely mean ruin for the whole of Tilea.

Having delivered the plea as I promised, being the arch-lector’s desire and not mine, for I would never presume to suggest to you any particular course of action, I end.

Your loyal and humble servant, Antonio Mugello.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 02, 2018, 11:58:31 PM
Too wordy perhaps?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on November 03, 2018, 08:14:35 AM
I have to admit I havnt had a chance to read yet. Waiting for this particular hellstorm to pass. Home of 28 years gone and just setting up new place. By Sunday my reading chair should have found a home and I can sit back and get lost in a different world 😺
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 03, 2018, 08:19:55 AM
Crumbs! (Colloquial for 'crikey!' Colloquial for Wow!) Sounds like a hectic, tiring and troublesome time. Hope you get through it soon!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on November 04, 2018, 09:25:24 AM
I now have my reading spot set up. Looks like many paths to war are being set up in the campaign. I like how the ogre army is a complete unknown ready to cause mayhem anywhere. And a beneficial alliance with the vampires is very cool. All the dominoes are being set up.
The easy part is us reading the exploits and waiting for all your hard work to catch up 😸
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Il Condottiero on November 15, 2018, 01:49:03 PM
That is one enormous bombard!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on November 25, 2018, 04:07:37 PM
On the edge of my seat! :icon_mrgreen:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 22, 2018, 04:44:11 PM
@ the ghostly one: I like that you are thinking about the situation. Keep in mind that you only know what the various (NPC) authors think, or what they want you to think!

@ Il Cond: 'Tis big, aye. Compensates for the dwarf's stature, perhaps?

@ GP: Can't keep you teetering on the edge too long, so here's the first part of the next battle report ...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prequel to second assault on Campogrotta

Out Riding
North East of Campogrotta, Very Early Autumn 2403

Having circumnavigated Campogrotta three times, which at over two leagues out from the city meant travelling a considerable distance, the Brabanzon riders were within sight of the rock-strewn area between the villages of Buldio and the Astigo River. They were one of three such scouting bands circling the besieged city in order to discover any approaching relief forces. Lord Narhaz, the ‘great-thane’ commanding the army of Karak Borgo, had every reason to expect the enemy to attempt a relief, for not only was the tyrant Razger Boulderguts reportedly returning to the city having completed his grand (and very profitable) chevauchee, but there were also reports of an ogre garrison at Ravola to the north and smaller forces scattered throughout Campogrotta’s compass. The ogres’ iron grip on the entire realm had relied on gangs of club-wielding brutes to ensure the native citizens’ continually cowed obedience, and any or all of these ogres could be on the move.

Evrart, the longest serving Brabanzon mercenary amongst the riders, his toothless mouth and sunken cheeks belying his sturdy toughness and considerable strength, rode at the head of the little band, regaling his friend Bossu with his latest theory.

“Ask anyone,” he suggested, “even the locals. No-one has ever seen him.”

(https://i.imgur.com/Fwbpb6o.jpg)

“Well, wizards like to keep to themselves,” said Bossu.

“Not always. That dwarf Glammerscale’s been riding with Jacquot’s lads, if you can call it riding. He’s full of friendly conversation.”

“Dwarfs aren’t proper wizards, so that don’t prove anything.”

Evrart pondered this a moment. “Alright,” he admitted, “I’ll grant you that. But what about Perette? She doesn’t exactly hide herself away; quite the opposite. Not that I’m complaining.”

“She’s not what you’d call ‘proper’ either,” said Bossu with a grin.

“Well, no. But they’re both just petty wizards. I’m talking about the great ones like Niccolo. They get noticed.”

“Not so,” said Bossu. “Most wizards shut themselves up in a tower or some such place and go about whatever strange wickedness they’ve set their minds to.”

“Perette doesn’t need any tower to be wicked,” joked Evrart, now grinning himself.

Their conversation stopped a moment as they heard a horn from up ahead.

“That’s the others,” said Evrart. He tugged the reigns a little to send his horse, his companions following, in the direction of the sound. Bossu kept by his side and returned to the topic in hand.

“I’m talking about the mighty wizards too. They say Niccolo’s lived more’n twice as long as anyone should hope for or expect, harbouring his grudge until he returned to retake the city with the ogres. No-one had heard of him for decades – everyone thought he was dead. That’s a lot of practice at hiding away. Now he’s returned, maybe he’s trying to finish off whatever it was he was doing before the Campogrottans threw him out?”

“I don’t buy it,” argued Evrart. “If Lord Niccolo really ruled that city, there’d be at least one report of him. Instead everyone talks about the ogres, about Razger and Wurgrut. How they took the city, then took Ravola, then robbed their way through Tilea. Razger gives the orders, his brutes do the damage. I don’t see how Niccolo fits in at all. You saw yourself, Bossu, it was their banners on the city towers, no one elses.”

“Oh, and you know Lord Niccolo’s coat-of-arms do you?”

“No, but I know it isn’t a line of teeth-mountains or a bull’s skull tied to a pole with catgut. He’s a nobleman of an ancient family. All the rulers are here, even the vampires, just like home. It’ll be some flowery leaf or a golden crown or fancy swirls in bright green or red or …”

“You’ve no idea what it is!”

“Ah, but I don’t need to know to make my point. Those banners were ogre banners. The whole realm is ruled by ogres. It’s Razger who leads the armies - he decides what they’ll do – so it’s no surprise that they spend all their time smashing places up and plundering. If Niccolo was some great and mighty wizard kept o’er long in this world by necromancy, then why didn’t he make an appearance on the walls during the assaults? Why didn’t he fling lightning down, or summon the undead to serve in the defence? Brute ogres, that’s all that was seen; blood-spattered shamans waving bloody innards about. That’s all.”

“From what I’ve heard of the assault, I doubt our lads would have noticed some old man amongst the brutes. What’s a flash of lightning here and there when Razger’s lads are shooting cannons like handguns and the walls are tumbling left and right?”

“Well,” said Evrart, “Let us see what’s what when we take the city. I’ll bet you ten silver ecus that there’s no sign of any wizard, nor even that there ever was one besides them butcher-shamans. Wizard Lord Niccolo’s nothing but a story.”

“I’ll take that bet,” said Bossu. “And you’ll pay me as soon as you get your share. I’m not waiting to hear your drunken excuses after you and your purse disappear into the stews for a week.”

The horn-blowing riders were the other half of their own band – led by a veteran called Raol - who had split off earlier in the day to sweep a little further north and so cover more ground, aiming to rendezvous near the strangely shaped black-rock they had camped at on their last circuit. Upon meeting it was immediately apparent the new arrivals did not intend to stop, so the two groups merged to ride as one.

(https://i.imgur.com/9ffMbrH.jpg)

The riders were mounted on good horses, but not destriers like the nobility of Bretonnia favoured in battle, nor palfreys like the same nobles rode when travelling. These horses were best described as rounceys, trained for both long journeys and battle, but not able to support the weight of a plated knight and barding. Each soldier wore a light armour of chainmail and carried long spears, so they could deliver a charge if the opportunity arose, and sported parti-coloured yellow and green shields, being the company’s livery. Every one of them also carried bows and quivers, allowing them to loose volleys at a distance to harry the foe. As they rode now, some clutched their spears, their bows wrapped in waxed linen and slung across either their own back or their mounts; while others held their bows, their spears slotted into long pouches behind their saddles and their shields slung on harness hooks. One or two, Evrart and Raol included, found it more convenient to have both weapons wrapped and bagged while they concentrated on riding and keeping an eye out. They had experience enough to know that should trouble arise, they would have time to prepare whichever weapon they needed, and if they hadn’t time, then they could draw their swords in a moment.

“News, then?” shouted Evrart to Raol, as they both rode at the head of the reconstituted column.

“Aye, and not good. There’s more coming.”

“Razger?”

“Don’t think so,” said Raol. “This lot came from Buldio.”

“Could be some trick of Razger’s, trying to swing around and arrive where he ain’t expected?”

“We thought so too,” said Raol. “So to make sure we got a proper look at them. They’re just a band of bulls, too small in number to be Razger’s army - no warmachines, no baggage, an’ only one banner. I reckon they’ve been off bullying Buldio, but now ordered to return.”

“Could they be meeting with Razger?”

(https://i.imgur.com/0Cds7kk.jpg)

“If that’s their plan, then they’re meeting at Campogrotta. The road they’re taking leads straight there.”



(An hour later.)

As they reached the southern stretch of the rocky-ground they spied one of the other two bands of riders heading their way, led by the riders’ commander, Sergeant Huget. The company’s colours were easily made out at the sergeant’s side, long before much else could be seen. Once again the two groups rode towards each other …

(https://i.imgur.com/6Feebxa.jpg)

… to join each other on the move; and once again Evrart kept his place at the fore, thus joining the sergeant. As they made their way to the path they had found previously, which led through the wide band of rocks bounding the southernmost reach of this stony land, he reported all he had learned to the sergeant. By the time he finished they had entered the gap through the rocks.

(https://i.imgur.com/s4cYJOU.jpg)

“They’re not the only enemy heading this way,” said the sergeant. “We’ve seen more on the Iron Road.”

“Razger?” asked Evrart.

“I don’t think so. They’re much the same as you described, except that there were greenskin runts with this lot too. And they were coming from the east not the west, which is where Razger will come from.”

“They can’t be from the Lugo watchtower, that place was dead. And there’s no way they came down the Iron Road,” said Evrart.

“No, I reckon they came from the villages of Sermide, only they went north to meet the road before they turned west, instead of just going straight to Campogrotta. They might be planning to meet the ones you saw. ‘Twould explain their diversions.”

“They’re bringing everything they can, then?” asked Evrart.

“As to be expected,” said the sergeant.

“So does that mean Razger’s coming too?”

(https://i.imgur.com/i23IiWT.jpg)

“Who knows? If he is, then the army’s in big trouble because the enemy’s closing from all sides. If he isn’t, then the army still needs to know about this lot because they’re trouble enough.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 28, 2018, 11:22:15 PM
Game Note: The following game continues almost from the point the previous battle ended, but now the ogres have two 400 pts relief forces, one entering from the north side, the other from the south, as well as a few newly-bought maneaters bribed (using saved ‘Supply Points’ in the city’s coffers) to help on the defence of the city. This scenario came about due to the fact that the first assault was a technical draw (as per the campaign siege-assault rules) even though the attackers very obviously had the upper hand. Also, because the battle took place at the very end of the summer season, thus (again a technicality) the end of season phase kicked in and reinforcements could be created and ordered. What would be a simply some number-crunching in a board-game style campaign thus drove the creation of the above story-piece and the wargame below. Without the relief forces, the battle would have not been worth fighting, being a foregone conclusion. But with the extra forces performing a pincer attack we decided it was game on!

The Second Assault on Campogrotta: The Battle
Part 1: Deployment and Turn One

The army of Karak Borgo waited four days for their master engineer to declare it was safe to recommence firing Granite Breaker. The engineer spent that time scrutinising every square inch of the enormous barrel – no easy thing considering its massive iron weight had to be lifted aloft by a hastily constructed hoist, to a height of just more than the width of a dwarf, allowing him to crawl beneath, there to inspect the underside. As was the dwarven way he was not to be rushed, taking his time to do the job thoroughly. Not one dwarf thought to complain, bar Glammerscale the wizard, who ought never be taken as an example of a typical dwarven attitude. The Brabanzon mercenaries, on the other hand, found the delay most frustrating - to them the city seemed ripe for the taking. They had to console themselves with the notion that once the massive gun continued its booming battery, the enemy would be so distracted and distressed that the mercenaries’ casualties during the assault should be much less than otherwise they might.

Meanwhile the bombardment was maintained by the mighty engine’s smaller counterparts: cannons, bolt throwers and the archaically fashioned stone thrower the Brabanzon had brought in pieces through the mountain pass, then pegged and lashed together with practised skill. Their combined efforts paled into insignificance compared to Granite Breaker’s earlier work, but it showed the enemy the besiegers were awake and able to hurl missiles perfectly capable of punching right through ogre flesh and bones, if not very effective against the stone walls.

The besiegers kept a constant, close eye upon the shattered walls and towers, expecting a sally would surely be launched against them, but it seemed the defenders had not the numbers for such. Either that, or they were awaiting some other development. In the meantime, despite the steady barrage of bolt and ball, the surviving ogres patrolled the walls with their own brass and iron pieces, with smouldering slow-match always to hand.

(https://i.imgur.com/smSDxsm.jpg)

Some brutes, as if careless of whatever could be thrown at them, patrolled the mounds of rubble where the walls had tumbled. Others occasionally wandered outside the walls. Perhaps curiosity had got the better of them? Or they wanted to flaunt their contempt of the dwarves and men dispersed about the city?

(https://i.imgur.com/1xjjDMD.jpg)

Some of these even re-crossed the rubble to return inside, although several never came back, simply adding new, grey heaps to the already large mounds of tumbled stones.

When their hired Brabanzon scouts returned in the afternoon of the fourth day the army of Karak Borgo learned exactly why the ogres were biding their time. The riders reported the approach of two separate relief forces, from both the north and the south-east. An hour later, when the master engineer was finally satisfied (and not a moment sooner), the re-loading of Granite Breaker began and the ‘Great Thane’ of Dravaz, Lord Narhak, ordered the call to arms.

The army drew up in a rather different manner than last assault, for they knew the foe would come from up to three sides. The dwarfs formed a defensive arc afore their artillery pieces. The scouts had reported greater numbers approaching from the south-east, so Lord Narhak joined his warriors to form a barrier to that side, while his thunderers and longbeard veterans stood upon his flank, along the front of the line.

(https://i.imgur.com/6nCLNa7.jpg)

Beyond them, closer to the centre of the line, were the dwarven quarrellers, then the cannon and bolt throwers, with Granite Breaker behind (able to shoot over the rest). Upon the right of the line were the mercenary Bretonnians, the Brabanzon, their main regiment of foot-soldiers providing the more solid defence, while longbowmen and brigand archers formed close by to sting any who approached from that side. The Brabanzon horsemen, now reconstituted into one body, patrolled the front of the line (Game Note: Here having already made their vanguard move.) …

(https://i.imgur.com/timK5XF.jpg)

Baron Garoy and his youthful knights rode upon the far-right, hoping to be the first to engage any foe approaching from that flank. They had lost several of their number during the first assault merely attempting to cross the rubble of the breaches and were now hoping to engage the foe on the flat, for that would mean either glory through victory or defeat in combat, and not the ignominy of death due a fall.

The defenders clustered mainly behind the southern walls, before the dwarven line. The slaughtermaster Wurgrut joined the newly recruited maneaters behind one of the few stretches of wall that had yet to tumble, while one of the two surviving companies of leadbelchers awaited even further within for orders concerning where and when to move up.

(https://i.imgur.com/54s2QBD.jpg)

The other leadbelchers had mounted the southern wall, where, considering they could not even see the attackers, they too awaited orders. Wurgrut’s second in command skulked with the last of the bulls behind the ruinous gate.

Such were the dispositions as the second assault was to begin.

(https://i.imgur.com/AaEMxBD.jpg)

As Sergeant Huget led his riders towards the wall, to get a closer and therefore better look at what appeared to be a very weakly defended stretch …

(https://i.imgur.com/Nyjjhse.jpg)

… the ogres took the bold manoeuvre as a sign that battle was about to commence. The leadbelchers on the southern wall …

(https://i.imgur.com/P7VbhIq.jpg)

… having ladders ready on the ramparts, descended outside the walls, and crept as best they could, whilst hefting their heavy metal burdens, towards the corner tower.

(https://i.imgur.com/9NlvogS.jpg)

The remainder of the garrison merely shuffled and stretched to peek out through the ruins here and there.  One of the maneaters, his ridiculously oversized head ornament (Game Note: Sorry Jamie, but even you have to admit it is a bizarre headdress/mask combination!) as well as the semi-collapsed ruins obscuring his view, had spotted the horsemen closing on the walls, but then quickly lost sight of them.

(https://i.imgur.com/8H01GKH.jpg)

He shouted across to second slaughtermaster further along the wall, who responded by conjuring up the spell known as Braingobbler to work a fearful doubt into their minds. Sergeant Huget’s angry shouts, laced as they were with more than a hint of the panic the ogres’ enchantment had sent speckling through him also, failed either to reassure or cow his men, and the riders turned and fled. (Game Note: They failed the dispel roll and their re-rolled panic test – the Brabanzon army standard was within 12”) This initial discouragement, however, had little effect on the rest of the Brabanzon, for most simply assumed the riders had seen whatever they had seen, then chosen to fall back to a safer distance. When the horsemen did indeed rally and reform, this seemed only to confirm the mistaken assumption.

Amongst the riders it was the veteran Evrart who spoke first.

“That was magic, lads. Nasty and peculiar. But none of us is hurt, so let’s put it behind us. If that’s all they have, then it’s a good thing, not bad. Such as that shan’t cut or bruise us, nor break our bones, just give us bad dreams.”

He took a hearty gulp of the dwarven ale in his costrel, as did several others a moment later. Then the sergeant asked, “Ready?” and after a smattering of Ayes, they reformed their body.

The only regiment to move amongst the attackers were the Brabanzon longbowmen, looking to find themselves an opportunity to shoot. The dwarven crossbowmen already had their opportunity …

(https://i.imgur.com/ZaSMbuh.jpg)

… and sent a storm of bolts at the Slaughtermaster. These clattered upon the stone all around him, and even struck his body, but some magical ward he possessed thwarted those few that otherwise might have cut into him. He grinned, revealing his maw of splintered teeth and bloody gums, and reached out to pluck a bolt from the mortar it had embedded itself in, thinking it might serve well as a toothpick. But then his eyes widened as he noticed the black shape of a roundshot skipping towards him. If he hadn’t already moved to grab the bolt, the ball would have hit him square on, instead it brushed his arm to leave a large, black bruise. (Game Note: This was technically a direct hit and he failed his ward, but then its D6 wound roll came up 1!)

Below Granite Breaker’s muzzle, one of the matrosses reached aloft to tip the wooden container holding the iron ball, and sent it rolling down to join the two already inside.

(https://i.imgur.com/Jo1dOEZ.jpg)

The crew did not bother to wad or ram the shots home (to do so would take another half an hour) but instead moved away from the front and cupped their hands over their ears, their thumbs splayed out at the back so as to relieve the pressure that was about to shudder its way through their heads. The chief gunner dipped his extra-long linstock so his mate could blow on the coals, then swung it up and over to lower the glowing end of the match down onto the trail of slightly slower-burning powder he had trailed behind the mound of more excitable powder directly upon the touch hole. This gave him just enough time to turn and all but throw himself down the steps of his platform.

The resultant boom was no more nor less loud than its previous efforts, and yet all those before and within the walls still found themselves shocked. The trio of balls missed the stone defences, travelling through one of breaches Granite Breaker had already made, and ploughed several hundred yards into the city, collapsing several houses and punching through many more walls.

Unfortunately, the great gun’s blast had come at a very inopportune moment for the trebuchet’s Brabanzon crew. Two had been winding tension into the tautly coiled rope, another was nursing the catch to hold the winder in place as the rods were removed and replaced to tighten some more, and a fourth, now that the basket was low enough to do so, had begun adding rocks. Who flinched, or slipped, or let go, no-one knows, but the resultant premature release wrecked the machine, killed two crewmen and wounded a third. (Game Note: You have probably guessed – catastrophic misfire.)

Turn 2 to follow.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on December 29, 2018, 12:14:59 AM
Hard fight ahead.
I really like your cavalry and evrart’s description is great. Love the colour of his horse as well.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 30, 2018, 07:56:30 PM
Thanks, most ghostly one. I forgot to do the white bits on the horses, then forgot again before setting up and taking the photos. I couldn't face trying to do them all again! The horses should look even better if I ever get round to properly finishing them.

...

Turns 2 – 3

The dwarven Longbeards, commanded by the Runesmith Rakric Bronzeborn, had already begun to move towards the city wall …

(https://i.imgur.com/Z2r5Na7.jpg)

… when the ogre relief force from Sermide arrived upon the field, consisting of a company of bulls and a mob of gnoblars. (Game Note: Both relief forces rolled separately, 5+ to arrive on turn 2, 4+ on turn 3, and if still absent, an automatic arrival on turn 4)

(https://i.imgur.com/B75z9C4.jpg)

Lord Narhak had expected them, and so he was ready. He, his warriors and his army standard bearer, the long-bearded veteran Thane Bragdebreg, had tarried as the longbeards moved away, and so now stood directly in the ogres’ way.

(https://i.imgur.com/CzsjaSE.jpg)

The leadbelchers inside the city, reassured by the fact that Granite Breaker had failed even to chip the defences (and happy to pretend they had not witnessed what its shot had done to the dwellings inside the walls) now ascended onto the parapet, there to be joined by the Slaughtermaster Wurgrut. To their left the Maneaters edged forwards through the rubble, all the better to snipe at the foe using their handgun-sized pistols, while the leadbelchers who had descended from the southern wall now moved out into the shadow of the corner tower.

Wurgrut, having spotted the arrival of the first relief force, now attempted to crush the bones of the dwarven thunderers close to the newcomers, but although his spell was cast, it did little more than make the enemy’s bones ache, while the energies that spilled from his over-hasty efforts hurt stung him and the leadbelchers at his side, and sloughed away what other energies the winds of magic could have provided for both him and his lieutenant. He cursed, partly at the pain of the injury he had received, partly at the frustration of fumbling his magical efforts, but mainly because cursing was his most common form of utterance.

Only momentarily distracted by their comrade’s wound, the leadbelchers on the wall with Wurgut blasted their barrels at the advancing Longbeards, cutting four down. Their success drew the maneaters’ and other leadbelchers’ interest, so that they too gave fire upon the same enemy regiment, but despite spewing great plumes of smoke, they failed to harm any more of the enemy. Rakric Bronzeborn took a puff upon his pipe, and uttered a single, entirely unnecessary, word: “Steady”.

(https://i.imgur.com/USnqMFS.jpg)

The ragged mob of gnoblars drew close enough to hurl a varied collection of sharp missiles at the dwarven handgunners, killing one. While they whooped and squealed, the dwarves calmly continued making their pieces ready.

Lord Narhak now ordered his warriors to ‘march on’, towards the ogres. This was no charge, but rather an attempt to ensure that the bulls could not slip past the warriors while the gnoblars caused a distraction.

(https://i.imgur.com/RAT8EEr.jpg)

Slowly but surely, the dwarves moved so that the only way either gnoblars or ogres could get to the artillery pieces in the rear was to go through them. One amongst the warriors a drummer named Ringregur beat the steady call required for this manoeuvre whilst staring wide-eyed at the massive brutes ahead.

(https://i.imgur.com/Avj19gg.jpg)

He had been recruited fresh for this campaign and had never seen battle before, apart from the occasional drunken brawl in the alehouses and halls he entertained in.  He did not know it, but Lord Narhak had noticed his expression, recognising the trepidation it revealed. Even as the brute foe began their charge, Lord Narhak leaned towards the drummer and said, “Tough Audience.” Ringregur might have laughed had he had time to do so.

(Game note: I have to admit that as GM, note-taker and photographer, I thought the dwarfs were in a very bad situation. If the ogres got through they could sweep down the line destroying machine after machine before anyone else could get to grips with them, never mind actually stop them. The dwarven player, however, despite commanding an NPC force not his own, knew the capabilities of a dwarven unit with not one but two lords within it better than I, as well as what spells he planned to assist them, and he was confident. Time would tell.)

Glammerscale the wizard, standing between the quarrellers and the stone-filled gabions shielding Granite Breaker’s crew, could see what was happening on the left flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/Phx2QSR.jpg)

Having his most important books at hand, and tasselled bookmarks handily placed, he opened to a richly adorned page containing the bound spell Harmonic Convergence. With little more than a stroke and a word of command, he released the spell and so blessed the warriors for the fight ahead. Emboldened by this success, he turned to a much trickier page, for the spell there was described but not bound. He had studied this page deep into the night, and now read it aloud hoping to call down a comet from the heavens. For a moment he thought it had worked, but then he sensed the unlacing of the etheric winds by the enemy’s magicians, and the possibility was gone. He closed the book but, in hope, left the bookmark in its place.

While the thunderers arguably wasted good powder killing four gnoblars, one of the bolt-throwers injured a leadbelcher, while shots from the smaller cannons tore a bull in half and felled another leadbelcher. Granite breaker struck the last standing section of wall to visibly shake both it and the ogres upon it, which is why Wurgrut accompanied the leadbelchers off the wall to stand boldly upon the outside.

(https://i.imgur.com/VlSZB2u.jpg)

Now that the relief had begin to arrive, the ‘slaughtermaster-general’ did not intend to sit inside the walls as they were torn apart like the last time. Ahead of him, the other company of leadbelchers had already ventured some distance out …

(https://i.imgur.com/8VUGBfW.jpg)

… while to the other side the maneaters and bulls had also emerged from the ruinous walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/rnrjbsx.jpg)

As all these ogres came on, the relief force had already charged: the bulls smashed hard into the steel-clad dwarf warriors; beside them the gnoblars poured onto the much smaller body of dwarven thunderers, leaving five dead from the dwarves’ countershot.

(https://i.imgur.com/o6CTp6Z.jpg)

Neither Slaughtermaster could find it in themselves to summon sufficient magical energies to their bidding, and so it was left to the leadbelchers to fell another pair of longbeards. The combats were considerably messier than the shooting. Two dwarven warriors were fatally crushed by the mere impact of the bulls, then the ogres’ clubs broke the neck of another. Lord Narhak viciously bloodied the crusher in command of the bulls, causing him to reel away in pain, while Thane Bragdebreg and the other warriors also carved deep wounds. The bulls, more confused than fearful, found themselves unexpectedly halted. They would need to do a lot more to break through than they had bargained for.

The gnoblars failed even to scratch their tough-skinned, armoured foe, while the dwarves dispatched four of the greenskins. Perhaps because the bulls were still fighting at their side, and despite their usual cowardice, they too managed to fight on.  (Game Note: Both units passed their Break tests.) This they immediately regretted, for the surviving longbeards now charged into their flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/ytPbElj.jpg)

Knowing that Baron Garoy was watching the army’s flank from a little way behind them …

(https://i.imgur.com/bkqS5cF.jpg)

… the Brabanzon riders now spurred their mounts to carry them within bowshot distance of the bulls, coming very close to the ruinous walls to do so.

(https://i.imgur.com/0mZdAyT.jpg)

Both Slaughtermasters had spotted Perette amongst the Brabanzon foot soldiers … 

(https://i.imgur.com/Cxt5fN5.jpg)

… and both remembered the fire magic she had employed to during the first assault. Keen to avoid such casualties during this last, desperate sally from the walls, both chose to ignore Glammerscale and concentrate on thwarting whatever magic she intended to summon. Thus it was that dwarf wizard managed once again to settle a harmonic convergence onto the dwarf warriors, magically blessing their blade-work.

(Game Note: I know, I know … ‘dwarf’ & ‘wizard’ are not two words Warhammer players expect to see joined together, but the old model itself proves the concept is not entirely impossible. I had to come up with suitable rules for him. Of course, any dwarf army containing him does not get the ‘Natural Resistance’ dispel roll bonus, but this army would have lost this anyway by having the fallen damsel Perette on their side. He also struggles a little more than other with magic - each spell he attempts is +2 harder to cast than the standard casting value. Dwarfs are not natural wizards, so he has to try harder!)

Perette failed to conjure anything anyway, so the ogres’ caution was wasted. The attackers’ shooting, however, was quite impressive. One bolt killed a bull (Note: The player made his third snake-eyes panic test in a row here!), another tore deep into the chief slaughtermaster Wurgut. One of the cannons took down a maneater, while Granite Breaker felled another, and the dwarven crossbow killed a third! Even the Brabanzon riders stuck a few arrows into the enemy. All this damage left only one maneater, two bulls and the second Slaughtermaster in the centre of the field.

(https://i.imgur.com/dLvBcQL.jpg)

To the disappointment of its crew, the mercenaries’ light gun …

(https://i.imgur.com/VeCHJgF.jpg)

… merely buried its ball in the dirt.

The dwarves now hacked the gnoblars apart, and when the last few greenskins fled in terror, both dwarven regiments followed to finish them off and hit the bulls’ flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZiUlI4s.jpg)

A bloodbath ensued, as Lord Narhak knocked the crusher’s brains out, Bragdebreg killed a bull by himself, and two more bulls were slain by the rest. Such was their prowess, luck and the skill of their shieldwall, that not one dwarf was harmed. The few surviving bulls knew full well to remain would be suicide, and so attempted to flee. They were pursued from the field by the Longbeards.

The threat from Sermide had been dealt with. The threat from Buldio had yet to arrive.

Turns 4-6 to follow.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on January 01, 2019, 01:22:54 AM
Awesome! I tell you awesome!
That pic of the drummer dwarf is priceless as is the thanes response.
Looking forward to 4-6
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on January 01, 2019, 07:42:59 AM
I love it how this story goes ever on.

This well-documented campaign has been an inspiration for years. Finally last year (2018) I managed to play only campaign games. A totally new level to the hobby.

Thank you, Padre!

Biting my fingernails for the report on the last turns.

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 03, 2019, 06:37:16 PM
Thanks Zyg and Ghost. I am really excited about the campaign in 2019. Loads of ideas for stories, projects, characters, and hopefully some great games coming up.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Turns 4-6

The Buldian relief force arrived just as the last Sermiden was chased away. This new force had no gnoblars accompanying them, consisting only of brute bull warriors with a bruiser in command. Like many ogre regiments of Border Princes’ origins, they wore spiked helmets and gut-plates, carrying huge swords in one hand while their other hands were enclosed in bladed gauntlets of steel.

(https://i.imgur.com/kuPsgh2.jpg)

The bruiser had horns sprouting from both his gut plate and helmet, and he bore two weapons – an ugly, hooked blade and a very hefty iron club adorned with seven conical barbs. He led his company boldly onto the field, as if there were nothing at all to fear. The ogres’ arrival was so sudden, and they moved so quickly, that the young Baron Garoy and his knights, despite waiting with intent for just this occurrence, were taken by surprise, and found themselves unable to deliver their anticipated charge. It did not go unnoticed amongst several knights that the baron had hesitated, if only for the merest moment, and so failed to deliver a prompt enough command. The knights were now forced to turn about if they were to get to grips with the foe.

(Game Note: It was a charge arc issue. I suppose Damo had assumed the ogres would come on closer to the knights, rather than into what had appeared at the start of the game to be a killing ground before several missile units and engines – at that time an insane place to enter.)

(https://i.imgur.com/pHPnN0p.jpg)

One brute upon the Buldians’ right flank was shouting something that none among the Brabanzon could understand. When he was answered in the same alien tongue by a shout from the second slaughtermaster with the last surviving garrison bulls, the soldiers knew exactly what was intended - both ogre companies would coordinate their charges to hit the Branbanzon’s spear-armed foot-soldiers from two sides at the same time. The soldiers were only real fighting body on that flank, apart from the momentarily disoriented knights, for all else were archers and the like.

(https://i.imgur.com/veqDblD.jpg)

Upon the far right of the ogres’ line the leadbelchers who had first emerged from the defences, despite having noticed the sparsity of surviving ogres elsewhere before the walls, and as yet unaware that the Buldian relief force had arrived, finally decided to risk a charge at the reformed dwarven handgunners. Their effort, however, was somewhat half-hearted, as if they merely wanted to appear willing before they looked instead to their own survival, and as soon as one of them fell to the dwarves’ perfectly executed volley, they turned and fled from the field and the city.

Their initial, apparently aggressive movement was noticed, however, and spurred the lone surviving maneater and the slaughtermaster with the bulls to have a go too. Neither managed to reach the enemy, instead slowing to a halt as they saw the unexpected flight of the leadbelchers to their right. Wurgrut was sufficiently flustered by what was unfolding before him that he fumbled his attempts at summoning a magical maw, losing control of his creation to harm only himself and his own ogres.

Too distracted by the newcomers, the Brabanzon failed to notice the garrison ogres’ discomfort. Baron Garoy finally brought his knights about so that they might deliver a charge, while the Brabanzon spearmen manoeuvred similarly so that they might receive one!

(https://i.imgur.com/LmOz9DO.jpg)

Perette had no intention of being caught in the imminent deadly mayhem, so she glanced around looking for somewhere safer to be. Spotting the brigand archers in the rear …

(https://i.imgur.com/3vuR8AP.jpg)

… she ran towards them - they were the sort of troops who could move quickly, avoiding trouble, which was exactly what she intended herself. She came to a halt between them and a basket carrying mule …

(https://i.imgur.com/P3E6jQk.jpg)

… and immediately set about attempting magic, but her desperate dash had left her distracted too, and her spells failed to manifest materially.

Bolt, bullet and arrow, both large and small, now came bursting from almost every part of the army of Karak Borgo. Granite Breaker’s mighty shot caused the last maneater to vanish in a red haze, and another leadbelcher fell dead, but much of the shooting was panicked and o’er hasty, especially from the Brabanzon, so that only two of the Buldian brutes fell.

The Brabanzon horsemen’s volley also had little noticeable effect, and they now became onlookers from their somewhat removed position before the ragged walls …

(https://i.imgur.com/8f1nNiS.jpg)

… watching as the Buldian brutes smashed into the front of the Brabanzon spearmen while the second slaughtermaster with the last bull hit them in the flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/yyGEIyP.jpg)

The Brabanzon footsoldiers were of good reputation, at least when it came to battle, if not for restraint when it came to plunder and pillage. Every man was a veteran of at least one war, and they were led by no less than their company’s commander, Captain Lodar ‘the Wolf’, with Jean de Salle, the company ensign, by his side. Yet despite all this, despite bracing themselves and presenting a neatly serried array of spear tips, they were not to prevail. Five died from the mere shock of the brutes’ impact, before even one blade had struck a blow. Captain Lodar was hewn in two, from left shoulder to right waist, and six more soldiers were similarly butchered. So smashed and shattered were the remainder, that they broke immediately. When the brutes came on they cut down and crushed umpteen more, so that the fighting heart of the Brabanzon, as well as their leaders, were gone. The Buldian bulls’ pace had hardly been slowed by this butchery, and they crashed into the dwarven crew of one of the bolt throwers.

(https://i.imgur.com/OwC6AGd.jpg)

At last, Baron Garoy and his companions got to deliver the charge they had been yearning for, into the rear of the ogres.

(https://i.imgur.com/xQWOQG7.jpg)

Baron Garoy himself took on the Bruiser, glad of his armour when the ogre’s giant club thudded into his shield and arm, bending the first and numbing the other. It was all he could do to stay mounted. One knight’s lance struck home, and took down a bull, but the ogres had quickly slaughtered the dwarven crewmen and all now turned to face the Baron Garoy’s company. The knights’ charge was over, their impetus spent, and more than one now wondered whether their one real chance had already passed.

(https://i.imgur.com/jZl2lR2.jpg)

Moment’s before, Perette had seen an opportunity – the second slaughtermaster and the last garrison bull were before her, visible through a momentary gap appearing between the Brabanzon and dwarves.

(https://i.imgur.com/Bco1Nf0.jpg)

Having caught her breath and regained her composure she could put all her mind to the task. The fireball she conjured singed her comrades on its flight, and upon striking killed the slaughtermaster and send the last Campogrottan garrison bull stumbling, smoking, choking forwards, only to be riddled with bolts from the quarrellers. Some of the bolts’ fletchings caught fire as he fell dead.

More of the of leadbelchers with Wurgrut fell, while he himself watched in addled fascination as one of Granite Breaker’s massive roundshots skipped off the ground before him to fly only an inch above his head. (Game note: Failed ‘Look Out Sir, but Ward save passed) He cursed, then cursed again for good measure, and although he could see there was still some sort of fighting going on to the enemy’s right, he knew to remain would be madness. He had no intention of dying today. He turned, pushing a leadbelcher to the ground to clear the way, and scrabbled over the tumbled masonry into the city.

The Buldian bruiser was grinning as he struck Baron Garoy again, almost exactly as before. This time the baron’s arm broke and the snapped bone inside dislodged from his shoulder. The force of the blow was too much for any human frame. Dropping his sword, his sight lost to him, he began to tumble from his saddle but was caught by the man beside him. Crying, “The Baron is wounded,” another grabbed his lord’s reins to lead him away. “Away” came another shout, which is exactly what the knights did, with the Buldian brutes pursuing.

(https://i.imgur.com/4hwF3Ps.jpg)

(Game Note: Apart from the Baron’s ‘death’ – he was not overkilled – not one other wound was unsaved in the combat. The knights lost their break test, but the ogres could not catch them. I know the baron was actually still alive, however, as I rolled on one of the campaign character injury tables, and death was not the result. Only overkilled characters don’t get the option of rolling on the chart.)

This left the Buldian bulls somewhat exposed. None of the garrison were to be seen, and the knights were too fast for them to reach. Longbowmen, brigands, horse archers, cannons and a bolt thrower surrounded them.

(https://i.imgur.com/mZ9rOPe.jpg)

Perette’s next attempt at a fireball was of little effect – merely warming the brutes’ backsides as they slowed. She now watched …

(https://i.imgur.com/4jHKUV7.jpg)

… as a storm of missiles lashed against the ogres. Two more of the brutes fell, leaving only three with the bruiser.

(https://i.imgur.com/oYZz3Ce.jpg)

The bulls had no real chance of getting to grips with the foe, and they knew it. Any one of the enemy bodies surrounding them could easily move away, meanwhile the rest would whittle them down to nought if given the chance.

Game Note: Game over, end of turn 6.)

The bruiser growled, hurled his giant club towards the Brabanzon’s little gun, then ordered his men to follow him from the field.

Campogrotta had fallen. This was surely the beginning of the end of the ogres’ tyrannical rule of this northern Tilean realm. Razger had not returned home in time. Should he do so now he would find the dwarves and their mercenaries ready and waiting. Admittedly, the Brabanzon had suffered heavily, so that only their lightest troops remained intact, and had no commander at present to lead them, but the Compagnia del Sole was on its way, reputedly with a force greater than the dwarves’ current army. Considering the ogre forces remaining in the realm of Campogrotta were petty in size and scattered, Razger’s battered army could not hope to prevail.

Perette found herself in the unusual position of being asked by the brigand archers at her side what they should do now. They had personally witnessed her killing of the ogre shaman, and consequently their opinions concerning her had been transformed. As she pondered, Glammerscale joined her and told them the city had fallen, their work was nearly done.

“Just a matter,” he said, “of collecting your portion of the prize.”

He didn’t need to say anything more. The archers ran off, towards the city, along with every other Brabanzon still standing on the field, and as they clambered over the rubble, their shouts and whoops began to reverberate through the streets.
 
Game Notes:
Thanks Damo for commanding the attackers, as you have done for so many NPC armies. You have a detailed tactical understanding that has always eluded me. I am glad you too wanted to keep Perette and Glammerscale alive. And I agree, for some reason I too am more fond of the Brabanzon than the dwarves. What will become of them now that they have become merely a brigade of light missile troops? What will become of the fallen damsel Perette?

And thank you Jamie for allowing us to play a game which might have seemed a foregone conclusion but which in truth, had your relief forces both arrived on turn 2, or even together on turn 3, and had magic gone more your way, and if a few more of the enemy’s machines had misbehaved, this might have been a very destructive battle indeed for the attackers. It is only right, I suppose, that we played the game in which your own realm’s capital city was under attack. I bet everyone is now wondering where Razger is, and what the mysterious wizard lord Niccolo is up to. For now, only you and I know!

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on January 16, 2019, 12:55:30 PM
Phew, that was a cliffhanger battle. I wonder how many times the Ogre commanders must have cursed their troops' reluctance to charge and pursuit, and what offerings they need to give to the angry Maw who seems to have betrayed their magic at a crucial moment.

The past two battles have had a very similar arrangement on the table, but the tactics, troops, and their style of combat created very differently phased battles. Marvelous!

...

It's been over a year (in our time) since the brave Halflings were enlisted. Haven't seen them in combat yet (correct me if I'm wrong). I'm afraid their time of testing is now getting close... This is a cruel campaign, the loss of life is enormous. Halflings have always been those 'little people like us', caught in the middle of grand happenings of the big people and big powers. I hope those guys will see their little homes again.

Did you have a larger campaign map? I'd really like to see how the capturing and re-capturing of cities has influenced the situation on the big map.

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 17, 2019, 10:33:01 PM
It was a fun battle, Zygmund, and yes both players chose to operate differently each time. No one bothered battering anymore walls or towers down, as nearly all had tumbled in the previous assult.

Lord Lucca of Verezzo has a portion of his halfling force in his marching army allied with the Portomaggioran Lord Alessio and King Ferronso of Luccini. He left the rest gaurding his realm (their home). Lucca has proved to be a cautious fellow. I can't say why, but there is a chance both the halflings at home and abroad might get on the tabletop - some of them (possibly) in the next battle.

The campaign map is a great idea. Of course, as GM, I have an exhaustive and secret map, full of coloured pins etc. The players all have maps of the whole of Tilea, but more detailed closer to their home realms. And there are the in-game maps featured earlier, but they are not very detailed at all, showing only major settlements and features.

I reckon a better, more detailed map, would be good for both readers and my players. I could put the sites of battles on too.

I have begun such a map already. I will try to get it done very soon.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Kurst on January 18, 2019, 06:55:40 PM
Epic as always!  Good to catch up with the carnage  :::cheers::: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 18, 2019, 08:40:17 PM
First map done, showing Southern Tilea
(https://i.imgur.com/XmOeNpK.jpg)
I could use this to illustrate the routes of armies earlier in the campaign, such as the tyrant Boulderguts' grand raid through central Tilea.

I have always presumed this is a map showing only the largest of settlements, and general 'areas'. The stories contain lots of particular places not shown on the map, being parts of the named regions.

I have put crossed swords at the sites of major battles (all of which have their own reports), but even these don't quite show all the battle sites.

Battles shown:
Monte Castello: VMC assaulted the greenskin held castle
Pavezzano: VMC versus the Little Waagh!
Tursi Tower: VMC versus Khurnag's Waagh!
The Via Diocleta (south of Frascoti): Pavonans and Remans versus Razger Boulderguts
Astiano: Pavona vs Astianans, and later Boulderguts vs Pavonans
Trantio: Pavonans vs Trantians (The War of the Princes)

Of course, there have been skirmishes and sieges elsewhere too, like Boulderguts' raid in which he razed (on this map) Astiano, Casoli, Montorio, Todi, Stiani and Ridraffa. There was the VMC razing Camponeffro, the Greenskin Corsairs being slaughtered by Khurnag's Waagh north of Pavezzano, and the assault on Pugno by the VMC (sending their reprieved goblinoids in first!)

If readers or players have any questions, ask away.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on January 21, 2019, 11:04:05 AM
Fantastic. Thanks! Need some time to get the enjoyment out of this.

If you have the time, adding those campaign routes would help to grasp the history of this campaign. But don't overstretch it. :)

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on January 21, 2019, 12:46:00 PM
Amazing!  Wonderful to see the map and some of the previously recorded battles, well done! :icon_biggrin: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Il Condottiero on January 23, 2019, 12:57:55 PM
Really nice!

It gives a whole new depth to the campaign, seeing its battles' occurences, helps us track the raid's movement throughout the region!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 26, 2019, 01:44:09 PM
And here is the north ...

(https://i.imgur.com/y5oL9CO.jpg)

Various battlefields are marked, including Pontremola where the Viadazan Crusade defeated the vampire Duke of Miragliano (killing him); Ravola and Terme where Razger Boulderguts conquered the realm and razed it very thoroughly; Viadaza where twice assaults have been launched to recapture the city from the living dead servants of Duchess Maria; Campogrotta where the army of Karak Borgo and the mercenary Brabanzon captured the city after two bloody assaults; and Ebino where the Duchess Maria was falsely believed to have escaped the Vampire Duke's clutches even during the defeat of her forces.

There are many lesser places mentioned in the stories and reports, forming parts of the settlements named on the map.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 15, 2019, 06:55:28 PM
The Great Gathering

Prequel to the Battle of the Valley of Death

At long last an army capable of striking a deadly blow at the vampire duchess’s horrid hegemony of the north had assembled, and not a moment too soon for her foul forces had reached further south than ever before. Consisting of five armies from different city states, including a multitude of mercenaries, it was vast in size. Its soldiers hailed from all over Tilea and beyond - from Estalia, the Empire and even far-flung Cathay, with dwarf and halfling regiments as well as those of men. Their assembly spawned a sprawling camp, filling an entire valley in the wide, low hills west of Trantio. At the camp’s heart stood a massive tent, where the allies' council of war was about to begin.

Having traveled at the head of the last two armies to arrive, Arch-Lector Bernado Ugolini now made his way to that tent, accompanied by several of his Cathayan bodyguards. As he walked, he scrutinised the soldiers he passed to satisfy himself that there was indeed enough strength in the three southern armies already present to make his (about to be) proposed plan viable. In truth, he had expected more - the Verezzan and Luccinan contingents appeared to be significantly depleted in strength. Perhaps, he thought, they were divided and so also distributed elsewhere in the camp, but he knew this was unlikely for it not at all the usual practice. As the massive Portomaggioran army made up for any deficiency in numbers on the lesser realms' behalf, he did not let it worry him.  Indeed, his spirits were sufficiently lifted to put a smile upon his face. The Tileans in the camp saw this as a sign of his pleasure, his happy blessing upon them, and respectfully made the sign of Morr as he passed. Even Myrmidia-worshipping soldiers knew which god to pray to when facing the undead.

Of course, his expression grew stern before he entered the command tent, for he knew full well that there was work yet to be done inside, and no guarantee of success. He had marched with enough conglomerate armies, either advising or commanding them, to know that it was never easy to reach a consensus concerning strategy. What with commanders from no less than five different states, several of whom did not merely distrust each other but had effectively been enemies until the dire threat of undeath had forced their cooperation, he expected the canvass walls to house a veritable cornucopia of conflicting concerns, incompatible priorities and discordant interests. More than this, there would most likely be disagreements between officers within the same army.

Passing Lord Alessio Falconi’s guards both outside and in …

(https://i.imgur.com/F0IcTsK.jpg)

… he discovered a gathering of officers and their attendants around a central table. Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore was immediately apparent, standing beneath a painted, silken banner sporting his family’s golden falcon, with an eclectic collection of what must be his captains gathered around him. He was well known to have travelled widely, and it appeared he had brought some of those he had encountered back with him. Upon thinking this, Bernado had to suppress a new smile, for of course he himself was guarded by strangely garbed Cathayans.

The young Lord Silvano, whom Bernado knew very well indeed from their shared adventures and who had rode with him from Remas, was already in attendance, liveried in Pavonan blue and white, and as such identical to the blue and white of Lord Alessio’s army. Some childish remnant lurking in the corner of Bernado’s mind wondered whether this was perhaps a sign that the two armies would work well together?

No doubt some of the others were from Verezzo and Luccini, but Bernado could not see the young King Ferronso amongst them, nor his good friend from youth, the philosopher Lord Lucca of Verezzo. Perhaps they had yet to arrive? What could possibly delay them, considering their armies had reportedly marched alongside the Portomaggiorans, he knew not. Perhaps their absence had something to do with the small numbers of their soldiers outside? As he took his allotted place, a place of honour to the right of the allied armies’ effective captain-general, Lord Alessio, he presumed all would become clear, momentarily.

(https://i.imgur.com/4wnFUXP.jpg)

Many amongst the officers made the sign of Morr, and Bernado acknowledged them graciously by lifting his hand in a sign of blessing and saying a brief prayer in the ancient tongue of Tilea.  Appropriately, it was the captain general, Lord Alessio who then spoke,

“Your holiness, you are most welcome. I think I speak for us all when I say we are mightily reassured by your presence amongst us, especially in light of the task that now faces us. May Morr protect us in the fight to come.

(https://i.imgur.com/d6cAY9j.jpg)

Bernado did smile now. “And I am most happy to be here with you, captain general, for here at last, it seems to me upon my first impression, is gathered an army sufficient for the work of eradicating the vampires’ evil from Tilea. Morr’s blessings are most assuredly to be poured upon this army.”

“We are most happy too that you brought Lord Silvano with you,” said Alessio, bowing slightly to the young Pavonan lord, who returned the gesture. “Though I have to ask, where is Duke Guidobaldo?”

“My father felt it was his duty to return home,” said Silvano. “Our city currently lies unprotected, a state of affairs that cannot be allowed to continue now that the tyrant Boulderguts has slipped from our reach and the vampire duchess’s army is so close.”

(https://i.imgur.com/XcM9wti.jpg)

“Ah yes,” said Lord Alessio. “We marched north in the hope of defeating Boulderguts once and for all, to prevent his further devastation. Indeed, I fashioned this army with the brutes in mind. Now we are faced with a quite different foe. Pray tell, my Lord Silvano, if your father took leave with his army, what command is left to you?”

“My father has fully honoured his commitments, taking only our horse soldiers and a newly raised regiment of Reman bravi. I now command our guns and household foot soldiers.”

“So he left behind only that which would slow him down as he went home,” muttered a grizzled, old soldier, heavily bearded and heavily armoured, wearing the yellow and blue of Verezzo.

(https://i.imgur.com/J9pPeXW.jpg)

Lord Silvano showed no sign of displeasure at this disparaging remark. Bernado had noticed that since the brutal blow to the young lord’s head at Via Diocleta, Silvano had suffered more than merely physical consequences. One of his eyes was now fashioned of glass, and he looked somehow older than his years. More noticeable, perhaps, was his distant nature, as if he were at one remove from that which occurred around him; as if, as one of the Reman priests had put it, he had taken ‘a step closer to death’. Here now, when many others would have reacted angrily to such a comment, the young lord exhibited an absence of any emotion.

“My father left me with exactly that best suited for an assault upon the walls of Trantio,” explained Lord Silvano.

Bernado nodded. “More than that, my lord, your father removed from our city those left unemployed by the fall of so many noble houses during the recent unrest. Such men could have proved most troublesome to us had they not been given new purpose. I am grateful to your father for this, and that the soldiers he left under your command are veterans who have proved themselves several times over in this war. I for one would never criticise Duke Guidobaldo’s desire to care for the well-being of his people.”

He glanced at the Verezzan captain to gauge the man’s response, but the fellow was an old veteran, an Empire mercenary by the looks of him, and simply looked on as if nothing of consequence had happened. Bernado supposed such a man would have faced such horrors during his life as a soldier that he would barely register a little awkwardness in conversation. Bernado noted, however, the comment had revealed there was still antipathy between Verezzo and Pavona, born of Lord Lucca’s allegedly tardy rejection of Duke Guidobaldo’s niece as a wife for his son. For some time, Bernado suspected Duke Guidobaldo had engineered the perceived slight to serve his own purpose (being to conquer every city-state neighbouring his own) each time claiming some matter of honour or revenge as his motive. Whether  this were true or not, the bad feeling engendered between the two states was apparently still felt.

Bernado now addressed Lord Alessio, “I must ask, captain general, where are King Ferronso and Lord Lucca?

Lord Alessio gave only the hint of a frown, but several other officers noticeably glanced at each other, both acknowledging and revealing their general disquiet.

“They have also left a portion of their forces under my command,” Lord Alessio answered. “And indeed, like the good duke, saw fit to ensure that those forces were of the kind useful in an assault. Might I introduce Barone Iacopo Brunetti of Poliena, commanding the Verezzan brigade …”

Here Bernado thought Alessio was gesturing towards the mumbling Verezzan captain, but then realised there was a halfling standing by the man’s side, who now bowed.

(https://i.imgur.com/kP28tg9.jpg)

The little barone sported a heavy iron helmet and clutched a polearm in both hands. Behind him was another halfling, an archer liveried in the yellow and blue of Verezzo.

" ... and Captain Muzio Vanni." This time he did indicate the plain spoken Verezzan. Then he turned to address another, "And this is General Marsilio da Fermo, commander of the Luccinan brigade.”

General Marsilio was another old soldier, almost white haired, in full, unadorned plate armour. He leaned upon a great battle axe of an archaic design, its haft almost as tall as him.

(https://i.imgur.com/khABNov.jpg)

“Your presence, Barone Iacopo and General Marsilio,” said Bernado, choosing not to mention the captain by name, “as well as that of those you command, pleases me greatly. But I must ask again: where are your masters?”

“Blame the Sartosan scum for my king’s absence,” said General Marsilio. “Their love for gold means they care nothing for the living of Tilea. To them, this war merely presents an opportunity to raid the coastal cities whilst our armies are busy elsewhere.”

Bernado had heard the rumours of increased Sartosan activity in the Pirate’s Current, and of some northern seaman named Volker who was attempting to unite them. “The King has returned to Luccini then?” he asked.

“Aye, but unlike Lord Silvano, he has left me with little more than a single regiment to command,” said the general, sounding embittered. And well he might, thought Bernado, for the rank of general sat ill alongside command of one regiment.

“And a great gun,” said Lord Alessio.

“Aye, a single piece,” said the Luccinan with unconcealed contempt.

It occurred to Bernado that the young king might have been glad, at least, to leave his general behind, for the fellow did not seem to care about mincing his words and youthful monarchs often had a certain fragile pride about them.

“Then the pirates are to blame,” declared Bernado, “and not King Ferronso. He cannot be expected personally to fight this foe while his people are being ravaged and robbed by corsairs.”

General Marsilio acknowledged the arch-lector with a nod. Bernado turned to the halfling.

“Barone Iacopo, I was looking forward to meeting again with Lord Lucca. I can only presume he too has other concerns?”

The halfling’s voice, like most of his kind, was somewhat lilting, and in tone like that a of youth.

“A great many, your holiness. They weigh upon him heavily. If you would oblige?” asked the halfling as he gestured for a servant garbed in a flamboyant hat and carrying a polished brass horn, to come up. Bernado nodded his assent, and the courtly youth stepped forwards, unravelled a paper and began to read:

(https://i.imgur.com/TICHNZC.jpg)

“This to his Holiness Bernado Ugolini, the righteous right hand of Morr, from your old friend Lucca. I pray you are well, and that your dreams treat you kindly. My heart is heavy with the knowledge that I shall not be with you before Trantio, and it pains me that you might think the less of me for it. Not willing to ask another to make excuses upon my behalf, I would by this missive explain myself to you, and all those with you who are to face the foul army threatening every Tilean realm. I know full well that the fate of every living Tilean hangs in the balance, and yet I cannot ignore the responsibilities of rule and the love and protection I owe my people. None presently know Razger Boulderguts’ whereabouts, but it seems to me that the brute most likely intends to circumnavigate the great allied army in order to attack the south. He has performed just such maneouevres before, and despite defeat at your hands went on to lay waste to Ridraffa. Furthermore, there are reliable reports of a large band of greenskins this side of the mountains, sufficient in strength to extract a ransom from the Pavonan town of Scozzese. Knowing that you are bringing the armies of both Remas and Pavona to join with the Portomaggiorans, and that I have left with you all that is of real use in the assault to come, thus fashioning an army entirely capable of victory in the struggle ahead, I feel that the only course of action open to me is to return to Verezzo to do what I can to keep my subjects safe from these other threats.  Furthermore, it seems to me that were the rumours of an alliance between the vampires and brutes true, then it would be remiss to leave the allied army’s rear unguarded, so that Razger could launch an attack to relieve Trantio. My soldiers can guard against just such a move.

If I were a proud man, I would have stayed, but I am justly humbled by my duty to my people, obliged to accept sound reason, and beholden to taking the best course of strategic action. When it comes to the safe future of Tilea, however, I am yours to command, and so if I have chosen wrongly, then simply say so and I will return immediately. Ever your servant, and always your friend, Lucca Vescussi, Lord of Verezzo.”

(Continued next post ...)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 15, 2019, 06:55:52 PM
Bernado dismissed the servant and thanked the barone.  “I do not doubt Lord Lucca’s sincerity,” he declared, “for I know him to be as honest as he is wise. However, I was led to believe the army of the VMC is also marching north to aid us in our war, and by way of Verezzo. Would they not be of use in defeating any brutes and goblins attempting to outflank us?”

“In his wisdom, my master did take the VMC into account in his deliberations, your holiness,” said the barone, “but not as a reassurance, rather as a further cause for concern. He does not yet trust them, which in truth made for another reason to return home.”

Bernado could not argue against his old friend’s suspicions, for he himself did not know whether the Marienburgers were to be trusted. An army ruled by merchants was an unusual thing anywhere in the world, certainly in Tilea, and nothing the VMC had so far done proved their intentions harmless. They had offered protection to Alciente, and now they ruled it. They promised to fight Khurnag’s Waagh, and now they ruled all that they took from his forces. They had swallowed up Capelli without a fight, simply because the town knew it could not defend itself against such force. And it was their soldiers who had thought to interfere somewhat unhelpfully with Raverno’s self-inflicted troubles by razing the contado of Camponeffro. There was even a rumour that the VMC had hired mercenary bands of goblins. Mind you, similar tales were told of Lord Alessio, so one could not single out the northerners on this account.

Suddenly the Verezzan captain spoke again. “Nor did our master wish to fight alongside the Pavonan duke.”

The halfling looked askance at his companion. “Not so, Captain Muzio,” he was quick to counter.

“Aye, maybe you’re right,” said the captain. “If it was one of Lord Lucca concerns, I’m sure it was very low on his list.”

One of Lord Alessio’s officers, a bald, fierce looking man in full plate leaning upon his sword like a cane, snorted in laughter at this.

Lord Alessio did not rebuke the man. Instead saying,

“No matter. Even if true, we must put such petty animosities behind us, for the enemy threatens every Tilean. Like you yourself said, your holiness, and it seems Lord Lucca also believes, we have a force entirely sufficient for the task in hand. So now, shall we proceed with formulating our plan of attack? I would know first what powder each army has available, for the walls of Trantio are strong and will take require much battering if we are to breach them. My lord Silvano, were the walls breached during your father’s war against Prince Girenzo?”

“They were, captain general, but they were fully repaired during our occupation of the city. I myself oversaw the commencement of the work, and received a report when it was completed, a matter of weeks before the ogres came. I do not believe the walls were in any way dismantled during the subsequent withdrawal from the city.”

“You mean the flight from the city, after your soldiers stripped it of everything of worth,” said Captain Muzio.

Bernado had had enough of this man. “I suggest you hold your tongue, captain,” he said firmly, noticing the concern writ upon the faces of nearly all gathered, not least the captain’s nominal commander, the halfling Barone Iacopo.  “If all you have to offer is accusations concerning Duke Guidobaldo’s past actions, then it seems to me you are of little use to this council.”

“I shall speak no more of it, your holiness,” said the captain. “And I apologise to all concerned for my o’er hasty words.

The young Pavonan lord’s face showed nothing but indifference. If he had noticed the formality of the apology, perhaps revealing its superficial nature, he gave no sign.

Bernado, not for the first time, wondered why - as ever in Tilea – a tangle of complications invariably threatened to imbue any alliance with an intrinsic fragility. Already, several, substantial absences meant this great army, large as it was, was nevertheless a much-reduced version of its potentially massive size. And now those officers remaining were exhibiting their mutual distrust, before a plan had been even been discussed. He had learned the hard way that every commander in a composite force such as this had his own priorities, fears and desires, his own different plans concerning how to achieve victory. Even their ideas of what constituted victory varied. Despite these concerns, he knew he himself was about to be guilty of exactly the same sort of contrariness. Still, what needed saying must be said, so he turned to Lord Alessio,

“Before you proceed, captain general, I would speak of my own concerns, for they will bear heavily upon the plans we make here.”

For the merest moment, Lord Alessio looked perplexed. But it did not last. Perhaps, thought Bernado, his own bitter experiences meant the captain-general recognised the inevitable nature of the game they were now playing?

“Of course, your Holiness,” said the captain general. “I greatly value your guidance. We all do.”

The easy acceptance and subtle flattery of this comment did make Bernado wonder about the man’s sincerity - this was not the first time he had detected Lord Alessio’s clever combination of both business and courtly skills.

(https://i.imgur.com/gri6EtT.jpg)

Such skills would serve him well in the juggling act of commanding such an army as this. Bernado was counting on him possessing a similar talent for strategy.

“Know that what I am about to suggest comes from my own bitter experiences, not simply from prayerful contemplation,” Bernado began. “I sometimes feel I have been more a soldier than a churchman. I fought with the holy peasant-army of Viadaza against the vampire duke at the Bridge of Pontremola. Against the odds, perhaps, victory was gained, for by the hand of one man - General Urbano D’Alessio, may he find blissful rest in the garden of Morr - the vampire duke was slain, and his army faltered. Nevertheless, they escaped in force, and in all likelihood became the core of the vampire Duchess’s army. Worse than that, despite a victory bought dearly with the blood of many, the city of Viadaza was captured by the undead the very next day when Lord Adolfo revealed himself to be a vampire. I was also amongst the army that recaptured Viadaza, along with Lord Silvano here, only to watch as the vampire Lord Adolfo escaped with his foul servants to attend his cruel mistress. Only recently I fought at the Via Diocleta, where the joint armies of Remas and Pavona drove the tyrant Boulderguts from the Remas. This too was called a victory, for Boulderguts was prevented from reaching the holy city. But then he marched on to raze Ridraffa to the ground, and to escape northwards in command of a significant force and hauling a vast train of loot stolen at such a cost in lives. Now he presents more than a potential thorn in our side, for he could yet, with perhaps minimal reinforcements, bring ruin to many more cities.”

Bernado fell silent here for a moment, to let the miserable truth of what he had just said, how three of the greatest victories achieved in recent years had ultimately proved fruitless, sink in. He could not help but look at Lord Silvano, who was wounded at Via Diocleta, but again saw only the same detachment. The rest waited in anticipation to hear why he was telling them this.

(https://i.imgur.com/GNzesUK.jpg)

“I will not allow another great sacrifice to be made, the deaths of thousands, so much suffering for so little gain. The foe must not be allowed to escape from Trantio, to rally elsewhere. This time the enemy must be annihilated. Even if they flee the city, they must be caught and destroyed. Not one, single, foul servant can be allowed to return north to the vampire duchess.”

He paused again, to judge the reaction of the men before him. They seemed solemnly agreeable so far.

(https://i.imgur.com/PjMNDqm.jpg))

“So, I propose the following plan: I will, with the aid of brave Lord Silvano here, lead the armies of Remas and the Pavona north towards the contada of Preto, while the rest of you assault the city. When you win, which you surely must do with the strength at your disposal, and our enemies again attempts to escape, we will intercept and utterly destroy them. In this way, the vampires’ final defeat will truly have begun. As we speak, the fanatical army of the Disciplinati di Morr is pursuing the vampire duchess towards Ebino. When they catch her, she will have only what remains to her after the second assault on Viadaza, and nothing from this southern army to come to her aid. Even if the Disciplinati ‘s army fails to destroy her army completely, we can march north with sufficient strength to deliver the necessary coup de grace.”

He knew that those gathered had not in their wildest dreams expected him to suggest dividing their strength at the very moment that such a force had at long last successfully been gathered. But he had weighed everything as best he could and was convinced the enemy could not prevail against the three armies from the south.

No-one spoke, instead waiting for Lord Alessio’s reply.

“I think,” said the captain general, “your Holiness, you have the true measure of what is required of us. We cannot allow the enemy to slip away. Even if we surround the city they could break through, as they have done before.”

Here Lord Alessio fell silent.

“But to take two armies for a task that may not even prove necessary,” said General Marsilio, “surely that is too much? It could weaken us critically before the walls of Trantio. If we cannot beat them, they will not run.”

“By your leave, General Alessio,” said the bald-headed officer by his side. “We need not send all the Remans and Pavonans, but rather send those from each army who are of little use in the assault. My own demigryphs, the Black Guard and the Knights of the Lady would all be wasted before the walls, as would all the rest of the horse.”

(https://i.imgur.com/qSMOYPs.jpg)

“But do we have sufficient horse to ensure victory over a retreating foe, Lord Black?” asked one of Lord Alessio’s advisers lurking in the rear, a short man, who looked more courtier than soldier. Lord Alessio listened without turning, as if there were such a familiarity between the two that he need not do so. “King Ferronso took his mounted men at arms away with him. Lord Lucca took his light horse. Now we learn that Duke Guidobaldo’s mounted knights have also gone.”   

(https://i.imgur.com/LkCnS0b.jpg)

The captain-general seemed to be pondering the courtier’s concerns - Bernado assumed he was counting riders in his mind.

“Then the soldiers of my army will make up the shortfall,” offered Bernado. “This was my suggestion, and I would have my own forces committed to ensuring its success. My dwarfs cannot move as rapidly as the horse, but they can catch up every evening. My skirmishers and crossbowmen should also be sufficiently fleet of foot, certainly for the task in hand, for we are not asking them to travel a great distance. And we must, of course, send some of my fighting priests, for those we face are our god’s particular enemy, and my priests’ prayers could prove vital to success. I will stay here with you, for then I myself might channel holy Morr’s anger against the foe.”

“I can spare Pandolfo and his galloper gun,” said Barone Iacopo. “Its shots would barely chip the walls of Trantio but could sting the foe in the open field.”

“Good, good,” said Lord Alessio. “Then we can pursue your holiness’s plan, but with a force drawn from all the armies, sufficiently strong, sufficiently fast. Lord Marcus will command this interceptor force …”

“But Alessio …” interrupted Lord Black, only to be silenced by Lord Alessio’s raising of a hand.

“I would have you, Ned, with me before the city walls. If some monstrous creature were to emerge, or hellish riders, then you and your demigryphs may be needed. I think it would be unwise to leave our flanks unguarded before Trantio, considering what horrors may sally forth.”

“Lord-general,” came the thickly accented voice of the arabyan standing behind the captain-general. “The colossus?”

(https://i.imgur.com/ORfxCx8.jpg)

“It stays,” ordered Lord Alessio. “The weight of the foe’s magic will bear against us in the assault, and, though very thankful of the priests’ prayers, I would fight like with like. You and your construct will stay, to protect the other flank.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 21, 2019, 08:20:50 PM
Unholy of Unholies
Second Prequel to 'The Battle of the Valley of Death'

Trantio City, Early Autumn 2403

Moved by the malice coursing through his every vein, Biagino mounted the sanctuary and strode to the altar. Although the congregation’s whimpering could be heard throughout the building, he failed to perceive it – for him, the sound was buried beneath the much more powerful sensation of their fear and the delicious stench of so much warm blood. As he greedily guzzled great gulps of the despair emanating from every living soul gathered within the church, their pathetic sobbing was akin to being merely one of several subtle notes possessed by a fine wine. He had other things on his mind to distract him, not least the fact that an enormous army was camped to the west of the city, obviously intent upon doing battle.

Since late afternoon he had been mulling over what to do about the enemy. Should he meet them upon the walls of Trantio, forcing them to assault the city, or out in the field where he could bring his whole force to bear? Should he even be attempting to take on such a massive foe at all? Perhaps his mistress would prefer he retreat than risk losing the army he now commanded? He had left Viadaza with his own Church of Nagash, including his vampire thralls and the huge mob of resurrected cultists he named the Disciplinati di Nagash but referred to as his children, and a small but substantial army gifted to him by the Duchess Maria, containing powerful, arcane constructs and even a monstrous, undead dragon. Once he arrived at Trantio, this army had grown even stronger, as he, his step-get Captain Tusco and the necromancer Pascal della Cava, raised several regiments of ancient warriors, both foot soldiers and horse, from the ancient graves and burial pits of the necropolis valley of Norochia.

Yet the enemy army, no doubt a grand alliance of several states, made all this seem paltry in comparison. This was not to be an easy decision.

Once behind the altar he gave vent to an involuntary hiss and slammed his gold-topped crozier upon the stone floor, the sharp sound of which elicited a temporary silence.

(https://i.imgur.com/osPG4nj.jpg)

His red-robed acolytes, the vampire thralls known as La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti, stood nearby on the sanctuary, while his newly raised, fleshless soldiers lined every wall of the church, but he paid them no attention. They gave him nothing, only took from him. It was his will that lent them purpose - without him they would neither be nor do. It was the wretched huddle of people in the nave that fascinated him, for he could feed on them, play with them, delight in their dread.

Tonight, however, he wanted something different. He wanted their worship. Raising his hands to command general attention, he began.

“Let us pray!”

There was some confusion amongst the gathered, and even that gave him joy. The living were a veritable cornucopia of feelings, every one improved by a seasoning of terror and despair. He leered at them, then raised his eyes to the great church’s ceiling, and began intoning.

“Nagashi, exaudi nos.
Domine, majestatis infinitae.
Domine, fornax ardens.
Domine, virtutum omnium abysse.
Domine, omni laude dignissime.”

(https://i.imgur.com/6tVa0cT.jpg)

He fell silent and lowered his head to glare at the cowering flock before him.

“Well?” he demanded.

Someone began to sob – a woman by the sound of it.

“No,” he hissed angrily. “Say the words.”

The nearest acolyte, his face obscured by a hood, now sang in a voice as beautiful as it was terrible,

“Sanctificetur nomen tuum.”

This was followed by a stumbled attempt at repetition by the cowed congregation. Apart from the children, all the reluctant worshippers knew the words, being the same as those chanted by all Tileans during the most common service to Morr. The entire unholy mass was to be an inversion of the familiar; a profane mockery twisted to serve Nagash.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZCqcPnY.jpg)

“Better,” muttered Biagino. His satisfied smile revealed the crooked fangs sitting uncomfortably large in his mouth. Then he addressed the congregation with a short homily.

“It gives me great satisfaction to see you all gathered here today. You are the last of the living in the city, and in what days remain of that life, your prayers will serve as the perfect prelude to your imminent sacrifice. Let your every thought be fearful, and all your pain and suffering be a gift unto glorious Nagash, for soon you will be his entirely, for ever more, and then all your suffering will end.”

He crooked his finger at his acolyte, who now sang another prayer, pausing between each line to allow the congregation to give their faltering repetition. 

“Libera nos, Domine …
A peste et fame…
A morte perpetua ...”

“Indeed, you shall never fall sick again,” declared Biagino, recommencing his homily. “Nor feel the pang of hunger. You will be delivered from all these things. Death itself shall not come to thee, and you will forget all that you knew, even the name of the false god Morr, for you will walk this earth as a servant of great Nagash, wholly beholden to his will through the medium of myself, his true servant.”

His own words reminded him that there were still creatures in Norochia that he had yet to bend to his will – a mob of ghouls and a large pack of dire wolves. And there were without a doubt still many more ancient warriors lying there he had yet to summon to swell the ranks of his army.

This train of thought was suddenly disturbed by a commotion at the back of the nave. Peering with a power of sight his old, living body was pathetically incapable of, he spied a desperate fool clambering over a pew in an pathetic attempt to flee, only to come face to face with the rank of skeletal guards. Two thrusts of a rusty-tipped spear sent the potential escapee scrambling back to the other prisoners.

(https://i.imgur.com/82cuShT.jpg)

Biagino tutted to show his disapproval, his subsequent sneering glare no more or less ugly than his face at rest.

“I will brook no such nonsense,” he warned. “Any foolishness will be punished most severely. There are worse ways to suffer than your present misery. Now, shall we continue with our prayers?”

Biagino himself took up the prayers once more.

“Nagash, domine et magister
Adveniat regnum tuum, Domine
Fiat voluntas tua”

Once again, the response was ingrained in the forced-worshippers’ minds, despite the unholy insertion of foul Nagash’s name in the preceding prayer.

“Nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum,” they sang with a tunelessness occasioned by fear.

Now, where was I? he asked himself. Ah yes, the valley

Suddenly, he knew exactly what to do. He would array his forces in the valley and meet the foe there, where the ground itself would provide him with reinforcements. He could wrest magical mastery of the wild inhabitants to make them his to command also.

The enemy would find themselves facing a foe from their nightmares in a place of their nightmares.

Where better?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Notes

Nagashi, exaudi nos (Nagash, graciously hear us.)

Domine, majestatis infinitae  (Lord, of infinite majesty)
Domine, fornax ardens  (lord, burning furnace)
Domine, virtutum omnium abysse, (Lord, bottomless pit for all virtues)
Domine, omni laude dignissime, (Lord, most worthy of all praise)

Sanctificetur nomen tuum (Hallowed be thy name)

Libera nos, Domine (Lord deliver us)
A peste et fame (From pestilence and famine)
A morte perpetua (From everlasting death)

Nagash, domine et magister (Nagash, lord and master)
Adveniat regnum tuum, Domine (Thy kingdom come.)
Fiat voluntas tua (Thy will be done)
Nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum (Now, always and forever)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on March 09, 2019, 02:40:09 PM
Excellent preparation.  RL has been a pisser lately so I only had this chance to catch up on the last three instalments. I love how your miniatures suit their narrative perfectly. Looking forward to the next. May I say that I hope the foul Biagino has a horrible, painful end.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on March 09, 2019, 05:42:22 PM
Great work.

If I am allowed to point out some errors:

Domine, virtutum omnium abysse, (Lord, bottomless pit of all virtues)
Domine, omni laude dignissime


Nagash, domine et magister
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 09, 2019, 05:52:53 PM
Thank you ever so much you two. When no-one comments a horrible doubt creeps in that I have 'lost my way' somehow with the writing.

@ Artobahn's Ghost: I too would love a messy end, but hopefully not too soon. He's fun to write for, and an 'easy' character to portray.

@ Fidelis: I just cut and pasted from a catholic website - their Latin, their translations! I will correct because not to do so is madness when I have already gone to such effort! (I haven't any skill in Latin at all, I just have the www!)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on March 09, 2019, 10:53:57 PM
I think I know now where you went astray. I suspect the texts you refer to start with Cor Iesu (heart of Jesus).  Cor is neutrum, and thus the vocative (used to address someone) is cor and dignissimum. However, Dominus is masculine, leading to the vocatives Domine, and dignissime. One can use the nominative instead of the vocative (abyssus instead of abysse), but if you start  with the vocative, it is customary to continue in the same declension. Cor has the same nominative and vocative.

Feel free to consult me on any issues regarding Latin.

To add: abyssus means "abyss"(duh). In the case of Jesus, it means a bottomless pit of virtues, i.e. bringing them forth from the abyss. In the case of Nagash, I should think it means a bottomless pit for virtues (i.e. sucking them into the abyss.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 10, 2019, 03:36:33 PM
Corrections made (as usual, I was distracted a while by RL, and family, and painting!!)

Thanks again Fidelis. My partner is a linguist, but French and Italian not Latin. I will indeed consult with you before 'publishing' next time. Or I will publish, then check with you, then correct!

BTW, your explanations are very clear!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 29, 2019, 04:23:09 PM
The Battle of the Valley of Death
The Necropolis Valley of Norochia, west of Trantio, Early Autumn, IC 2403

Captain General Lord Alessio Falconi, despite everyone else’s surprise that the enemy had left the protection of the city walls to assemble in the nearby valley of Norochia, did not hesitate in issuing new battle orders. He knew that with a force as huge and unwieldy as this great alliance army, containing battalions from five different realms, any indecision on his behalf could escalate into a hazardous delay upon the field.

It was generally agreed the enemy must be expecting to gain some advantage from choosing to fight outside the city walls, and although some believed a relief force must be on its way to join the enemy host, most thought it was glaringly obvious why the undead would choose Trantio’s ancient necropolis as their battleground - the reinforcements were, in effect, already there. They just had to claw their way out of their graves to muster with the already animated corpses serving their vampire masters!

(https://i.imgur.com/qO5Mg6r.jpg)

Lord Alessio had incorporated both possibilities into his thinking. If there was a force on its way, then it would surely be intercepted by the mounted force he had ordered to skirt north of the city. The horse-soldiers’ manoeuvre had been intended to prevent any enemies escaping Trantio, thus (un)living to fight another day, but they were also very well placed to serve in this new, if unexpected, role. And if the vampires did intend to bolster their strength with warriors newly raised from the ancient graveyards and tombs, then speed was of the essence. Lord Alessio’s army must engage the enemy as soon as possible, to limit the time available for any necromantic machinations.

And so the allied army, consisting almost solely of foot soldiers and artillery (having been selected to besiege the city), marched boldly to array themselves upon the western ridge of the valley, despite the horrific sight of the enemy silently forming up on the eastern slopes. They performed the manoeuvre well, thanks to the drills Lord Alessio had required of them during their march. Three times he had ordered them to form from marching column into line of battle, their performance improving on each occasion, despite the fact that he specified a different disposition every time. Lord Alessio needed the allied contingents to act as a cohesive force in the field, and to know that they could and would follow his orders promptly. He had them march in a specific order each day, all the better to facilitate his orders for deployment. Unlike their practices, however, this time budge barrels were unloaded and powder distributed, their handguns made ready, matches lit, and the giant colossus-construct was conjured from its slumber (upon a covered pallet carried by three massive wains) to take its place on the far left of the line.

The captain general’s own army was mainly concentrated on the right of the line. He intended these, being the soldiers he most trusted, to secure that flank from any enemy attempt to outmanoeuvre the army. He also concentrated the army’s artillery on this flank, no less than six great cannons and four master engineers (four of the component contingents having brought their own engineers to tend their own pieces).  There were a brace of Pavonan pieces, another two Portomaggioran, as well as Reman and Luccinan guns, all of which were also shielded by his own troops. He expected the guns to deliver several crucial and crippling blasts against the foe and was therefore keen to ensure they could not be interfered with by the enemy – another reason to have his most trusted soldiers upon that flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/s6eLwbe.jpg)

On the furthest flank was Lord Ned’s hunting pack of demigryphs, the fastest troops Lord Alessio had with this army, commanded by his most ferocious commander. This was the only mounted company he had not sent away with the interceptor force heading to the north of the city. If anyone was to prove a match for whatever might attempt to break through, or ride around, the flank to attack the guns, then it was Lord Ned and his monstrous cavalry. Nevertheless, to assist them in this task was a company of handgunners, who might at least slow the enemy sufficiently to allow Lord Ned to bring his own company to bear upon them.

Next in line towards the army centre, was his large regiment of spears and his crossbow, and beyond these Portomaggiorans, upon the lower ground, were massed troops of the allied forces.  The Cathayan mercenaries of the arch-lector’s Reman army stood centre-front, crossbowmen and halberdiers with banners showing the keys to Morr’s Garden, while the Verezzan’s large pike regiment and crossbowmen were to their right. Behind them was the smaller Luccinan pike regiment, bearing a royal banner of three fleur de lis (after all, they served a king) and to their left was the second company of Portomaggioran handgunners.

(https://i.imgur.com/2VUBX59.jpg)

Further left were young Lord Silvano’s Pavonans - archers, halberdiers, handgunners. Their original strength had been reduced by constant war, yet they were still a significant force. The two huge blocks of baggage were clustered behind them, with an unusual halfling war machine nestled in between.

(https://i.imgur.com/RMAu4Pp.jpg)

Similarly (suspiciously) close to the baggage, Barone Iacopo and his Verezzan halfling archers had formed up further to the left, and out on the far-left flank – again because Lord Alessio trusted them – marched the plate-clad Portomaggioran veterans known as the Sea Wolves. Finally, upon the army’s extreme flank, strode the Portomaggioran Colossus, as tall as the tallest of giants (if not taller) and fashioned of enchanted bronze and silvered steel, containing massively intricate iron gears and clockwork mechanisms.

(https://i.imgur.com/eWyxulb.jpg)

(Game Note: The colossus has the stats, abilities and points-cost of the Tomb Kings’ Heirotitan, but he assists the Portomaggioran army’s spellcasters. This is an example of a player’s own inventive ideas in the campaign. Damo wanted a ‘colossus of Rhodes’ type statue to defend his city, so as a GM I told him the points cost and the time it would take to construct. Later he wanted it to move with his army, which I allowed, but warned him as a consequence of hauling such a massive thing upon wagons his army would march somewhat slower than otherwise it would have done. I try to keep everything balanced. As the undead player had such monstrosities as the terrorgheist and the mortis engine, it seemed fair that with effort, spending and consequences, a 'standard' Tilean army might have a suitable monstrous element.)



Upon the eastern side of the valley, the vampire high-priest Biagino watched as the living army assembled. Standing with his Disciplinati di Nagash (the resurrected corpses of the same Morrite dedicants he had marched with when he too had been alive) it crossed his mind that perhaps he should have begun the advance against the enemy earlier, despite the fact his own force had yet to fully assemble. This thought, however, was a fleeting notion, and was soon lost as he scrutinised the enemy army, assessing where the dangers lay, and the weaknesses.

(https://i.imgur.com/Z8V6uEU.jpg)

Worryingly, it seemed to him very clear that there were plenty of the former and very few, if any, of the latter. Never before had he seen an army so large. The Viadazan and Reman armies he had marched with when alive had been considerably smaller, and they had nowhere near as many guns. It also occurred to him that he could see not see any horse soldiers, which probably meant that what he could now see was only a portion of the enemy’s true strength. Their army must have been truly massive on the march!

Where are the horsemen? he wondered. Are they out on the flanks, concealed by the lie of the land? If so, then the situation was worse than he had previously thought. What chance did his army have if surrounded entirely? Or are the horse elsewhere? Whatever the truth, he had played his hand and now had to see it through. If he routed the foe before him, he could deal with any mounted soldiers later. And if his enemies were attempting to outflank him, then delay would only give them more time to do so. This was his moment – his chance to prove himself to his mistress and defeat the greatest army sent against her yet.

Biagino, his three thralls and his mob of rotting cultists stood on the right of the army’s centre. Further right was a large regiment of skeletons, the corpse cart, his skeleton riders and a slavering pack of dire wolves.

(https://i.imgur.com/M85MFbR.jpg)

To his immediate left were two more large regiments of skeletons, one of which obscured from the enemy’s sight by the large church occupying the middle of this stretch of the valley.

(https://i.imgur.com/HfpM8Qr.jpg)

Out on the right flank proper, his vargheists lurked behind a large mob of zombies created from those  poor souls who had foolishly returned to scratch a living in the ruins of the city of Trantio after the Pavonans abandoned it and the ogres then ransacked it. Beyond them slunk the huge terrogheist, and beside that the mortis engine drifted ethereally. This had a body of undead ogres before it, and a regiment of grave guard beside it. Outermost on the right rode a company of wraiths.

(https://i.imgur.com/aZhNFOw.jpg)

With the merest flick of his wrists, his army beholden to his necromantic will, Biagino commanded his dire wolves and hexwraiths to advance, all the better to get a feel for how the enemy intended to proceed, and how they might respond to the sight of such creatures of the night moving towards them. While the wolves loped between the ancient tombs towards the Portomaggiorans  massed on the opposite slope …

(https://i.imgur.com/n52oZdF.jpg)

… the wraiths moved boldly on the far right towards the colossal construct.

(https://i.imgur.com/8pw5hkq.jpg)

Due to the nature of the deployment, nearly every living soldier could see these two bodies advancing, but instead presenting a threatening countenance, the act of moving ahead of their own lines merely made them seem weak and lonely. The crossbowmen before the wolves calmly hefted their now spanned weapons to fit their bolts, while the gunners upon the higher slope blew upon their coals and prepared for their first volley.

(https://i.imgur.com/emoJTlr.jpg)

(Deployment and vanguard moves completed.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on March 29, 2019, 04:36:38 PM
Grand!

Biting my fingers now that the Halflings enter their first battle. And against the undead of all possible enemies! (You sure you haven't bought any Halfling Zombies lately?)

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on March 29, 2019, 05:22:07 PM
I like that each unit has been designated as whose in the allied army. :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 29, 2019, 06:33:53 PM
Every single faction, even the NPCs, are fully detailed. I keep a track of everything as GM. The different units you see here are what was left with the allied force when many of the other NPC forces left due to other threats in other places. I also make sure I can represent everything in all of the NPC forces and that no toy soldiers are assigned to more than one force in case they the up fighting each other or beside each other! It's up to the players to ensure that they can field their own army, painted in full ... Although they can use my collection too and some players wholly use my collection because they have no figures.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 01, 2019, 03:15:31 PM
The Battle of the Valley of Death, Part 2: The Battle

There was activity in largest of the valley’s walled graveyards, for a pack of ghouls were busy pulling up the more recently buried bones, sucking out the putrid marrow and chewing on the foul, foetid flesh still clinging to them. There was a plentiful supply, for many of the dead from the recent War of the Princes had been interred in that yard, including several many more who had been executed as undesirables by the Pavonans after their conquest. The ghouls’ feasting was now disturbed, however, for despite their ever-ravenous hunger, they could not fail to notice the gathering armies upon the valley sides.

(https://i.imgur.com/b7sOXtf.jpg)

(Game Note: There were scenario rules for the necropolis valley – the graveyard had a pack of 4D6 ghouls, which would attack any who drew too close, although the undead could use their necromantic magic to make them part of their army. Also, one of the two mausoleums, to be randomly determined by the GM, contained 2D2 swarms of bats, and they too could attack anyone who disturbed them with their proximity, although again the vampires could attempt to gain mastery over them by using their magic dice.)

As soon as Captain-General Lord Alessio spotted the approach of undead vanguard, he ordered the army entire to advance. Lord Ned led his hunting pack forwards, cautiously at first to allow the spearmen beside him to match his move.

(https://i.imgur.com/SwFRE07.jpg)

In the centre of the line the pikemen began their own advance, forming a column to move between the crossbowmen and handgunners flanking them, thus allowing for volleys of bullet and bolt even as they manoeuvred.

(https://i.imgur.com/IMT6rAu.jpg)

The allied army’s wizards and priests, although barely noticeable as they conjured and prayed, were busy. The priests blessed the Verezzan pikemen with holy Morr’s protection, while Lord Alessio’s court magician, the arabyan Hakim, felled four of the zombie cultists accompanying Biagino with a banishment spell. But it was the Colossus that achieved the most astonishing magic, inflicting Shem’s Burning Gaze on the hexwraiths with such power that all five of the ghostly (yet dangerous) riders were dissipated entirely from the mortal realm. A cheer went up from the nearby Portomaggioran Sea Wolves and the halflings, the only allied regiments close enough to witness the event. Their cheer died away, however, when they saw the terrorgheist and the mortis engine still moving up towards them.

(https://i.imgur.com/j0THvdH.jpg)

While every cannon on the hill was turned to target those same monstrous entities, the hand-gunners and crossbowmen let loose such a volley that not one dire wolf remained to continue its probing advance. This elicited a cheer from the other flank of the allied army.

Biagino frowned, as he was now becoming fully aware of just what the enemy might do before his forces even managed to engage them in combat.

(https://i.imgur.com/YRssZrd.jpg)

He peered up at the massive artillery battery upon the hill, and from the absence of smoke knew they had yet to be fired. Squinting to make out details despite the painful light behind the guns, he was very dismayed to see where they were aiming.

There was a moment of quiet after the sharp rolling crackle of the handgun volley had dissipated …

(https://i.imgur.com/1fU1cvC.jpg)

… then suddenly the valley was filled with the roaring blast of the entire battery. Not one gun failed to fire, perhaps due to the attendance of no less than four different city-realm’s master engineers. The Pavonan cannons sent magically flaming round-shots at the terrorgheist, one missing but the other tearing right through. A split second later the Reman gun sent its own iron bullet into the beast, and it slumped to the ground bereft of undeath.

Before the Sea Wolves could begin to cheer a second time, the two Portomaggioran cannons and the furthermost Verezzan piece sent no less than three balls into the Mortis Engine, breaking off several large shards of whatever foulness it was made of. For a moment it seemed that it might continue its advance, but it broke into two, as if unfolding, then collapsed in pieces to the ground.

For a moment, there was a stunned silence, perhaps encouraged by the wave of foul magic that washed out, howsoever weakly, from both monstrosities to caress the living soldiers and unnerve them, but it was brief, and as it passed, they knew full well what had been done. A mighty cheer erupted.

Biagino felt the loss. It was not so much painful, more like being winded, as if a considerable portion of his own strength had been sapped away. The only parts of his army already to advance had been immediately obliterated, and while the remainder had yet to take even one step towards the enemy, two of its mightiest components had been blown apart like nothing more than dry leaves.

For the briefest moment, a burning rage threatened to overcome him – a bestial fury which made him want to throw himself and his whole army at the foe, wild and reckless with anger, regardless of the consequences. He yearned to rend their flesh, snap their bones and drink deep of their misery, to sate his ravenous hatred and punish them for daring to oppose him. But the desire quickly passed, and a clarity born of his cunning now suffused him. He knew that to advance in the face of such a foe would mean certain destruction. If there had been more vampires in his army than merely himself and Arnaldo, more necromancers than solely his new servant Severino, then perhaps sufficient aetheric winds could be woven, enough necromantic magic conjured, to repair and sustain the army in the face of the enemy’s thunderous volleys? But he knew it were not so. He had lost so much already, before the fight had even begun, and to continue this battle would surely mean defeat.

His mistress did not send him here to perish, or at least not to do so while barely scratching the enemy. He himself revelled in his new condition, bringing with it the promise of everlasting undeath. He refused to allow pride and anger make him sacrifice all he had, and so he gestured this way and that, as if he were doing nothing more than moving imaginary chess pieces but in truth subtly signalling his lieutenants, and within a moment his will was done.

The necromancer Severino bowed almost imperceptibly and led his regiment of skeletons forwards into what had already proved to be a killing zone …

(https://i.imgur.com/IbcOy3M.jpg)

… while the vampire Arnaldo snarled a command to send the mob of zombies shambling towards the foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/GAoFYzk.jpg)

When the ghouls in the graveyard began pouring out, yearning to feast upon the zombies’ decaying flesh, Arnaldo summoned enough magic to bind them to his service, and thus turn them towards the enemy too.

(https://i.imgur.com/0CeGQEe.jpg)

For a moment, Severino hesitated, having noticed the massive body of spearmen advancing to his left …

(https://i.imgur.com/4BXsxBV.jpg)

… but before he could decide whether to wheel his troops to face them or to continue his march directly on, a lashing hail of missiles was loosed from the soldiers and guns on the hill opposite. All around him his bony warriors were breaking into pieces, the clitter-clatter of their shattered bones clunking from one fleshless anatomy to another to rattle off the vacant skulls and between the empty ribcages of their comrades. Severino was himself pierced several times over by the sharp shower of shards and fell to the ground clutching at his face in a vain attempt to protect himself, whilst muttering the words of a spell he thought could keep at least a part of his regiment on their feet.

Upon the far side of the field a storm of arrows, bolts, bullets, round-shots and even the colossus’s enchanted flames, tore bloodily into the ghouls and zombies, but could not find their mark on the vampire Arnaldo, for he was skulking behind the stone ruins to conjure every scrap of magic he could to keep his zombies intact a little longer.

All this was as Biagino intended, for his only purpose was to escape. The walking corpses he had ordered his lieutenants to lead forwards were to be his rear-guard. He had left them upon the field of battle merely to buy himself time, knowing full well they could never reach the enemy lines. The living soldiers were to be distracted by the task of blasting away at the regiments before them, their vision obscured by clouds of black-powder smoke.  By the time they had begun picking their way through the ruins of the valley and over the shattered remains of Biagino’s soldiers, he was already running, surrounded by a crazy mob of flagellant zombies, through the ancient, ruinous village to the valley’s east.

(https://i.imgur.com/CYc6LZC.jpg)

Games notes explaining (in detail) the weird shortness of the game will follow!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 02, 2019, 01:11:09 PM
Not sure about posting the explanation regarding why the battle was so short. It's 2400 words of non-game world discussion. Perhaps I ought to put it in another thread and just link here?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on April 03, 2019, 03:14:50 PM
Riveting as usual. The comments about the halflings have me worrying about them now.
Yes! Post the explanation here. It would be most welcome.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 03, 2019, 04:57:53 PM
For you, Ghostly Artoban, if no-one else!

Game Notes for the Battle of the Valley of Death:

Be warned, this post is long. If I am to properly explain things it will take some time! So if you are reading the campaign reports as a game-world story of Tilea, like a strange novel, then please skip this. As some of you are possibly interested in the complicated workings of this campaign, then I have included. It provides a very substantial 'glimpse behind the curtain'.

This was, in my 36 years of Warhammer Fantasy, the shortest game I have ever played. It was conceded after only one side’s round in turn one. We never even finished a full turn! The undead player did nothing but move his two vanguard units. We did, however, out of campaign story necessity - there are 5 other players - subsequently roll a few dice to get an idea concerning what would have happened during the undead round to perform their rear-guard action.

The story behind this is complicated and involved an unexpected real-world player decision, modifying the campaign rules, and (luckily) Biagino’s urge to (un)live to fight another day.

I will start with the real world. The undead player decided, having seen the destruction dealt to his force in round one, that Warhammer was no longer ‘for him’. He had played for 20+ years, having (beautifully) painted several armies over the years and played in a few of my campaigns, but he said that since the ‘official’ death of the Warhammer world his interest had waned. Also, I suppose, as the campaign is such a long, drawn out affair, what with six players’ busy lives getting in the way, and a GM who turns nearly every event into a reason to model, paint, photograph and write, it might seem a tedious experience to some. He thus announced his retirement from the hobby and the campaign, there and then, in the venue (a local shop who had agreed to host the game).

For this battle alone, I had made the two large corner hills - driving to a huge B&Q to get the necessaries, and made other new scenery - the big church, the two leafless woods, painted several large sheets for the table parts that weren’t painted (there were two table pushed together) and made several other scenic bits using what I  found in my bits boxes. I had previously visited the shop to sort a date for the game, then visited again the evening before the battle to set all the scenery out so I could check it and do whatever extra work was required that evening (the painted sheets to go on the unpainted table). I had produced pages and pages of information to go out to the players, including character information plus lots of army lists (some being campaign lists so no army builder program to help me, just word-processing), made banners for the NPC forces and worked on prequel stories for the battle. All this on top of all my ‘normal’ GM duties. I also bought food and drink for a picnic lunch for everyone. The game involved more than 124 painted figures that had never been on the table-top before, painted with the next game in mind, whatever and wherever it was going to be!

All this for a game of half a turn that lasted about 30 minutes, but took more than an hour and a half that morning to set up! If I had known in advance of the decision, I would have happily done all the same preparation, but would have arranged for a stand-in player to command the undead forces. In fairness, however, the player had tried to stick with the campaign for a long while, while becoming more frustrated with warhammer's direction, and this was just the final nail in the coffin!

The undead player also said he was annoyed at how the living army’s first turn had gone. He voiced concerns about unfair developments. Specifically, he was not happy at the large number of cannons being employed against him, and the unprecedently large number of attendant engineers. He was also suspicious of the unexpected appearance of the 'Colossus of Portomaggiore'. In terms of his viewpoint, I can fully understand these concerns. But there was a history behind these elements he didn't (and couldn't) have known about.

Here I will explain these elements.

The colossus was paid for by the Portomaggioran player many seasons ago, as a monstrous, magical construct to help in the defence of his city. He and I agreed it would be a 'counts as' Tomb King' army list Hierotitan, being a fantasy Mediterranean 'Colossus of Rhodes' type of giant, an animated (part magical, part mechanical) bronze and iron statue of an ancient warrior. Knowing that the ogres and the vampires were using the 8th edition army lists with their several monstrous options, I allowed it. Later the player asked to take the colossus with his marching army, which I also allowed, but warned him that as a consequence his army would march slower than normal. This was part of the reason the Portomaggiorans failed to catch the ogre tyrant Boulderguts.

(NB: The colossus has been hinted at in several previous campaign stories and player reports, but never properly described.)

The colossus was thus a GM-ruled allowance. Several players have bartered for such things, and this has always been a feature of our campaigns. If a thing fits the feel of the game world, and the player has built and painted the model, and pays the campaign-rules' costs, and sorted the rules with the GM, then they can have it. The colossus was paid for with season-end supply points, at an army list points-cost slightly greater than the Tomb Kings’ equivalent, and it took time to build. Its rules were agreed between GM and player. Biagino’s undead army itself also had some unique units, including three vampire thralls (non-magic using vampire fighter using modified rules!) and the Cult of Nagash’s flagellant zombies (50 zombies with a weaker version of the flagellant ‘The End is Nigh’ rule). These also were GM devised modifications of the normal rules, and so non-GW-official inclusions in the undead army.

I have, in the past, even allowed NPC armies to have such oddities and rarities – like the massive dwarf siege cannon, ‘Granite Breaker’, from Karak Borgo. Although in truth that actually had stats exactly as detailed in the tried and tested campaign Tilean army list we borrowed from several internet forum campaigns (Warhammer Empire forum campaigns).

Regarding the large battery of artillery, it was indeed odd to have six artillery pieces with five (yes 5) engineers. I think the vampire player thought we were being silly buggers. There is a campaign Tilean army list rule regarding the 'artillerist' mercenary skill stating that it costs twice as much as normal for a second one (which the Portomaggioran player, who did have two engineers, had paid for), but still 5 engineers is a lot.

But there was no conspiracy or cheating behind so profusion of guns and engineers, just a sequence of events which started long before anyone knew they were going to fight the undead, or even that they would ever be allied together. In a way it almost happened by accident!

Five armies were allied together on the living side: two player factions, being Lord Alessio's Portomaggiorans and Duke Guidobaldo’s Pavonans, and three non-player factions being the Morrite arch-lector's Remans, Lord Lucca's Verezzans and the army of Luccini. The best way to explain the force as it was on the day and its odd composition, is to work through events chronologically ....

- The undead were apparently winning the war. They had lost some battles, but each time they recovered, re-formed and returned, and they had now pushed further south than ever before, reaching the realm of Trantio.

- The ogres had won victory after victory during their 'grand raid', razing many settlements to steal a vast amount of loot, and thus badly damaging the central Tilean city realms.

- The living armies of central Tilea were most likely to lose against the vampires, even if they allied together, as they had been severely battered first by in-fighting, and then by Razger Boulderguts grand raid.

- The southern rulers (PCs and NPCs) were worried that the ogres and the undead would grow very strong if they robbed and/or ruled both the north and the central areas of Tilea, and that if allowed to continue then when they came south they would be truly mighty in strength. They were also worried that the two were in alliance, or at least had some sort of non-aggression pact.

- And so, several rulers, including Lord Alessio (PC), King Ferronso (NPC) and even the VMC (PC), in response to the pleading of both Lord Lucca of Verezzo and the Arch-Lector of Morr in Remas, decided to march north as a joint force and take the enemy on as soon as possible.

- Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore's player had built a large army (painting in RL and spending ‘supply points’ in the game world). He knew he would eventually have to face ogres and undead, probably in that order, so he decided to have two cannons and two engineers to ensure they worked well. (The player had commanded NPC forces in several games against both these foes.)

- Remas had what was left of its battered army, including one surviving gun and the city's engineer. Pavona (PC) had two guns remaining to its force, including the army's engineer.

- Meanwhile the smaller NPC states (Verezzo and Luccini) were fielding the small armies that they had kept even during peacetime (approx 1000 pts). As GM I had decided (long before, when first detailing the NPC forces of the campaign) that they would both employ the same thinking to create the best and most versatile little standing army - as if they were both following the same military manuals! Therefore both their armies consisted of some horse, some foot, including melee and missile, being pike and crossbow, and one or two cannons with a ‘household’  engineer to maintain them during peacetime and command them in war. The logic they employed was that if a war began their little standing armies would form the nucleus of bigger armies – with bulk militia and expensive, specialised mercenaries being added to make a larger, battlefield viable army. All this was done very early in the campaign. Now the war had come, however, they didn't have the time or the funds to add the extra forces. Some of their money was going to the larger factions they were begging to help them as part of the deals they had struck.

- While he was visiting Luccini for the young king's crowning, Lord Alessio (PC) agreed to march with the Luccinan army to Verezzo to fight the ogres.

- Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona (PC) had been attempting to get the Reman army to help him catch the ogres and regain the loot stolen from his realm.

- The Portomaggiorans, Luccinans and Verezzans rendezvoused and marched north, while Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore (PC) requested the VMC send an army north to assist in the defence of Living Tilea. General Valckenbugh (PC) of the VMC agreed, but it would be a long time before they reached the conflict zone.

- The massive 'triple' army failed to catch the ogres, but their scouts reported a substantial undead army occupying ruinous Trantio, raising legions of dead from the ancient realm. Messengers sent from Remas confirmed this.

- Meanwhile Lord Lucca was growing concerned about the army of the VMC marching north via his realm. He wasn't sure he could trust such foreign mercenaries in the employ of a Marienburg trading company. He was also worried about the mysterious force of goblins who had ransomed a Pavonan town, and suspected the ogres might be looping around to attack to the south. He requested to return home.

- King Ferronso also wanted to go home because it was reported that Sartosan pirates, rumoured to be gathering in strength, were eyeing his undefended city greedily.

- The Reman and Pavonan armies now rendezvoused with the Triple Army (you can see the story of their army council discussing plans in a large tent above!) They believed they were about to besiege a walled city containing a large army of undead.

- Duke Guidobaldo had already gone home, leaving his son Lord Silvano with a small force in the allied army. Lord Alessio (PC) had requested Guidobaldo leave what would be useful for a siege. Why would the Pavonans take their engineer but leave their guns?

- Lord Alessio told the Luccinans and Verezzans that for honour's sake they should leave a portion of their force to aid his assault on Trantio. They left their guns and some foot troops (which would have slowed them down on their way home). Of course, they also left their engineers, as if they had taken them the engineers would have had nothing to look after anyway!

- As the GM I thought "Bugger, this game is going to be so unfair - 4000 pts versus 8500" so ...

- I wracked my brains for a valid game world reason why the army might be smaller and came up with the idea that the Reman arch-lector (NPC) did not want - as he had done twice before at Pontremola and the Via Diocleta - to win a battle to no subsequent gain. On both those previous occasions the enemy got away to do more harm elsewhere. So he suggested his Remans and the Pavonans should form an interceptor force and head north of Trantio, to catch and destroy whatever undead forces attempted to retreat from the city.

- Lord Alessio (PC) said that was fine, but that it was a better plan to send an amalgamated force of all five armies’ horse soldiers, as well as light troops and scouts, with a galloper gun and the dwarves (who can't move fast, but who can run for a much longer time and thus could catch up each evening). Such a force would be much more likely to catch anyone trying to skip away, and would be almost useless in a siege/assault.

- This was agreed. Now the army marching on Trantio had approx. 6000 pts of foot soldiers, artillery, and the five engineers from four different armies.

Thus there had been no cheating or rigging, apart from the GM trying to even things in a little for the Undead player, to make the game worthwhile, but doing so through an NPC's logical response to game-world events. Instead there was just the long history of the campaign, involving PCs and NPCs, going back to decisions and listing made several seasons ago when myself and the players had no idea who was going to fight who, when they would fight, or who would join who, followed by events, politics, wrangling, debates, suggestions and plans.

This undead army, commanded by Biagino (an NPC lieutenant) was not the player's only army. His actual PC (the vampire Duchess Maria) was not even on the field of battle but leagues and leagues north with another army. As a GM I had no idea the player would feel so annoyed by the turn of events. If I was the player I would have been fascinated to see what damage (if any) I could inflict on the enemy before my army was wiped out. In truth, I would have really enjoyed the game, not least because the pressure to win would have been off and I could just enjoy trying to do anything I could to hurt the foe. It would have been an exciting challenge - for me. Yet at the same time, I fully understand the undead player's position and concerns. In all honesty, I have myself expressed surprise on several occasions that my players have stuck with an 'officially dead' game so long, because of the campaign. A part of me wondered when this sort of thing would happen.

Our campaign rules allow for a ‘rear-guard’ action for a force to successfully (if partially) withdraw from the field before turn 6. At least one unit has to fight at least one round of combat without losing, and then any other units can attempt to leave the field of battle by moving to touch their own game edge. The circumstance on the day didn’t allow this to happen, as the player did not want to play and was packing stuff up, so as GM I allowed a fudge and ruled that as the two sides were still quite far apart, and the undead were still close to their table edge, then as long as they sent a substantial force forwards to receive shot and magic and keep the enemy busy for a little while, then the rest of the force could attempt to flee. This is shown in the battle's final photos, quickly set up before the player left.

The outgoing player said that he reckoned Biagino would withdraw rather than face certain defeat, which we all agreed was a very likely decision for the NPC to make, and so the rear guard was agreed on as his last command in the campaign.

So, that’s the real world and the gaming side of the matter covered. Now for the game world.

To explain the withdrawal in game-world terms is much easier. As it says in the story, Biagino really did not want to die. So he did whatever it took, sacrificing whatever was necessary, to escape! Whether or not he succeeds, avoiding the interceptor force to the north, remains to be seen! This turn of events seemed a very satisfying story development to me, and at least allowed me to feel some excitement again!

I apologise for inflicting this long and sorry tale on those of you who read it! If you did do so, however, I would love to hear your opinions, as then I might be better able to avoid such a situation arising in future.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on April 04, 2019, 03:17:10 PM
I am really glad you added this. If not for a good explanation, then it also shows the scope of work you put into your game. It’s a shame the player has given up especially after the amount of set up involved. Things usually end badly otherwise they wouldn’t end and I have to say I’ve come very close to giving up completely lately. Lack of space, justification of a ‘game’ (though with me it’s more of an obsession) with family who don’t see it as other than wasting time, but it is sad to get a glimpse of those final moments of gaming as it’s been a sedative of sorts to me personally. It’s narratives like this and the enthusiasm of gaming (new style for me) that keep the spark going. Keep up the good work Padre
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on April 05, 2019, 07:37:47 AM
It's hard enough to find players in a thematic campaign of such grandeur.

It's harder still to get them stay for years. People can be trhilled at the start, but their interests will change over time.

It's understandably that some players mainly come in for enjoyable games and sort of leave the campaigning to others and the GM. And it's understandably that such players migh feel disappointed when the backstory results in very asymmetric and even unfair setups.

But he should have let you know about his feelings before agreeing to the game. Or you should have talked to him about the odds beforehand. Communication.

You don't have any Warhammer players attending these battles? Anybody that could step in at a short notice?

Yet I'm really really glad the halflings made their first battle without a scratch!

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 05, 2019, 09:11:13 AM
Thanks Art and Zyg.

Zygmund, you raise some interesting points, which I should explain.

You mentioned the 'back-story'. This is something that might work very differently in different campaigns. This IS a 'story campaign', but a fully role-played one. I operate more like an RP games-master. I populate the world, and come up with options, but I don't actually make much of the story up. In fact, I go even further than I would as an RP GM.

The player characters' and NPCs' decisions and actions make the story, as well as the results of battles and other circumstances, including the campaign rules. In an ordinary RP game the GM would decide what the NPCs do, so that the world unfolds around the players, but in this campaign I don't quite fully to that - I let the dice decide between various options. The NPCs aren't fully controlled by me. I research history for ideas (like the Morrite cultists being 'inspired' and informed by both the historical character Savonarola and the Jesuit movement), I map the world, come up with the NPCs, etc, etc. But I am not fully in charge of the NPCs' decisions. This way I get to see the story unfold too - I don't know what will happen next. When I write the story up, I am recording, explaining or demonstrating the events that occurred, and at the most I invent various characters' responses to those events or particular actions during them.

An example: An NPC ruler must make a decision regarding a threatening force. What will he do (if anything) to counter it? I might decide that how 'bold' he feels is the most important factor in such a decision. On other occasions I might decide how clever, or desperate, or angry he feels is the most important element. I roll a D6 - the higher result, the bolder he is. I might decide, before rolling, to add a modifier to the result. If it is the young King of Ferronso, an impetuous youth, I might add 1 to the result. (In fact, it can be even more finely balanced than this. Before he was officially crowned (and his uncle was acting as regent) I added nothing, but once he was crowned I did - still young, but now able to ignore his advisers.)

Once I know how bold he feels, I scribble a chart of options to dice between. If bold I might say 1-2 march out to attack, 3-5 stand firm and await the enemy's attack, 6 do something else. If 6 comes up I have to come up with a chart of wackier options and 'cunning plans'. Maybe they have a wizard they can call upon to help them, or an ancient war machine they can attempt to employ? If he is not feeling bold I might write options like offering to surrender, bribing the enemy, or simply fleeing. If their 'boldness' result was in the middle I might scribble options like hesitate, parley, or send for help.

I do this sort of thing for all sorts of decisions. Very often the dice dictate something I am not excited about, or don't think is a good story, but I stick to the result so that the whole process seems more genuine. I think it adds a 'reality' to the world.

Regarding your other points, Zygmund:

... he should have let you know about his feelings before agreeing to the game. Or you should have talked to him about the odds beforehand. Communication.

I had told him all about the points imbalance before the game, but he didn't care because he has, on several occasions, smashed armies much bigger in points value than his. Often the circumstances meant those armies were not particularly 'competitive', being built according to the world's fluff requirements, etc, and not at all like tournament armies. This player always tries to field very competitive armies. What he was most annoyed about was the enemy army's composition - the vast number of cannons and their attendant engineer, and the colossus. Those things I couldn't tell him about in advance as his character, the Duchess, didn't know about them, mainly because she wasn't there. The Duchess was way up in the north, with another army. This army was commanded by her lieutenant, Biagino. I had gone through all the usual dice rolls to determine his actions. The one thing I had allowed the player to influence was whether or not he wanted to fight another siege game. He had done a few recently, and I thought it might be boring for him (and the other players) to fight another. So, when Biagino rolled 'cunning plan' I asked the player if it would be cool to fight the battle in the necropolis valley. He said yes.

The player was also annoyed at Biagino's army composition. He had sent some of his own army (using his own figures) south with Biagino, but the new army, the army of the Church of Nagash raised by Biaginon from the graveyards of Trantio, and the Church itself, was built using my figures. I build fluff armies, thus the legions of recently raised soldier-corpses, the zombie cultists, and little in the way of monsters. I wasn't worried, however, as his own contingent had plenty in the way of monsters!

You don't have any Warhammer players attending these battles? Anybody that could step in at a short notice?

The players on both sides here were very experienced warhammer players. The undead player has played way more than me - for years and years he played weekly, several games. He has had undead and lizardmen armies, and in fact this is his second undead army (he sold the first when switching to lizardmen, then sold that when switching back!) The player on the other side, 'Lord Alessio' is even more veteran, and he has on many, many occasions commanded NPC armies in this campaign (he's my 'go to' guy). This means I can concentrate on being a GM, photographing and note-taking, while he plays the army better than I could have done anyway, so that it is appropriately challenging.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on April 05, 2019, 09:49:50 AM
Padre, we seem to run campaigns very similarly. The one difference by me is that I tend to explain things to the players also from the meta-perspective. Thus, if there's something bad coming, they know to mentally brace themselves for it. I've found there's always enough surprise left, however precisely I explain the approaching challenge.

It sounds like your retiring friend is primarily a gamer. He may have never truly undersigned the contract to play in the type of campaign you create, accepting and appreciating the potential unbalance. On the other hand, since he had played a long time already, he probably was aware of how the things are run and what the odds are. It sounds very weird to finish the whole thing without wanting to play one losing battle. Everyone loses at times. Gamers need to be sportsmen too, and play even a losing game to the end.

I'm not worried about people quitting and moving on with their hobbies. I'm worried about the cognitive dissonance that obviously lies behind this decision. Otherwise it wouldn't have been so sudden.

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 05, 2019, 09:59:26 AM
I like your cognitive dissonance point. He is a competitive player. I think a football league-style of campaign, that lasted weeks not years, would have suited him better.

I think there may have been other elements behind the suddenness of the player's decision to quit. For a start the shop was cold (the heating was broken), and he was feeling, by his own admission, 'down' that day. Also, I think he had been fed up with Warhammer for a long time, but didn't want to let the rest of us down by pulling out of the campaign. He knew some of the effort I had invested in it. These elements combined with the events of turn one to stun him and send him reeling away!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Francis on April 10, 2019, 09:04:28 AM
Hi, I have been following this thread for several years now (and the forum from at least 2012 when I first started a DOW/Empire army), but these last few posts prompted me to actually create an account.

The storytelling is wonderful and this is the sort of campaign that I would think most wargamers would love to participate in. I can not help but admire the work you put in for your players Padre.

However, I have noticed that the campaign might struggle a bit with the main problem of WFB, namely the balance between armies. Warhammer is not a balanced game, not even close. 8th was better than 7th and maybe 6th, but even then there is still a massive difference between armies, and this is exacerbated if one player is a fluff player and the other is competitive/tournament player. In almost any situation, the fluff player will stand no chance.

I would therefore like to suggest that you and your players consider switching to another system. One with better balance.

I would suggest Kings of War, partly because it supports pretty much all the armies that existed in WFB (and pikes are pretty good in KoW for that Tilean feel), but mostly a because the balance is much better.

I play Kingdoms of Men which is a catch all human army (there are WoC, Bret, and empire equivalents too), and while KoM is considered among the weaker armies and I am an average player at best, I never feel "outgunned" by other armies at tournaments, and always feel I stand a chance. Back when I played warhammer I could often tell which way the battle would go from the moment the other player placed his army on the table, I have never felt that way with KoW.

KoW also plays faster and is less cluttered and random than WFB is (although the character options are much more limited).

Anyway, I just wanted to give some friendly advice, and hope I don't come across as trying to push something on you guys. I know that getting a group to switch systems can be hard.

Keep up the great work, I am sure there are many more lurkers than me following this thread.   

 
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 10, 2019, 09:26:09 AM
Thanks for the comments Francis, but "we're in way too deep" to change, and, perhaps bizarrely, the exact phenomenon you are concerned about is one of the things I like about the campaign.

Being a historian I know that nations, powers and armies have never in any way been balanced. if a player in this campaign thinks they do not have a chance against a particular enemy then they need to employ strategy, alliances or other tricks and methods to succeed. This is exactly what has happened in the war against the undead. And now the otherwise underpowered realms, using mostly fluff Tilean armies, have finally attained enough strength to be a match for the very tournament style competitive armies fielded by the undead player. Admittedly this description is an oversimplification, because the Portomaggioran army is commanded by a strongly competitive player, and the undead army in the last battle contained a large component of fluff elements that the story of the campaign had created. In general terms however I very much enjoy the world and story that unfolds within it, despite, or partly because of, the imbalances and the players various struggles to come to grips with them.

Also, the technical difficulties of converting the armies and the rules, the points systems and supply point rules, and many other things, would be a nightmare.

Perhaps the next campaign? (If I live that long!)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 10, 2019, 11:06:59 AM
Padre ... appreciate the explanation, and it is unfortunate the player has "retired".  Perhaps there was a way to establish some sort of conversation with the player in advance, letting him in on the idea of the story in some way with out him needing to know everything in the background, and having the player realize that this was not intended to be a win for the undead?  Although at the same time, if this player is more interested in winning than story telling, it might not have mattered, and because it seems he was commanding a NPC army, and he still decide to take his ball and bat and go home, there may not have been a way to mitigate the situation.

I am really glad you added this. If not for a good explanation, then it also shows the scope of work you put into your game. It’s a shame the player has given up especially after the amount of set up involved. Things usually end badly otherwise they wouldn’t end and I have to say I’ve come very close to giving up completely lately. Lack of space, justification of a ‘game’ (though with me it’s more of an obsession) with family who don’t see it as other than wasting time, but it is sad to get a glimpse of those final moments of gaming as it’s been a sedative of sorts to me personally. It’s narratives like this and the enthusiasm of gaming (new style for me) that keep the spark going. Keep up the good work Padre
Artoban ... don't give up this hobby.  It can bring far and away much joy and even peace.  It is an escape from the real world stuff, a fantasy where play and story, creating and discovery, are constantly available to those who take such a path.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 10, 2019, 11:24:00 AM
Regarding your other points, Zygmund:

... he should have let you know about his feelings before agreeing to the game. Or you should have talked to him about the odds beforehand. Communication.
I had told him all about the points imbalance before the game, but he didn't care because he has, on several occasions, smashed armies much bigger in points value than his. Often the circumstances meant those armies were not particularly 'competitive', being built according to the world's fluff requirements, etc, and not at all like tournament armies. This player always tries to field very competitive armies. What he was most annoyed about was the enemy army's composition - the vast number of cannons and their attendant engineer, and the colossus. Those things I couldn't tell him about in advance as his character, the Duchess, didn't know about them, mainly because she wasn't there. The Duchess was way up in the north, with another army. This army was commanded by her lieutenant, Biagino. I had gone through all the usual dice rolls to determine his actions. The one thing I had allowed the player to influence was whether or not he wanted to fight another siege game. He had done a few recently, and I thought it might be boring for him (and the other players) to fight another. So, when Biagino rolled 'cunning plan' I asked the player if it would be cool to fight the battle in the necropolis valley. He said yes.

The player was also annoyed at Biagino's army composition. He had sent some of his own army (using his own figures) south with Biagino, but the new army, the army of the Church of Nagash raised by Biaginon from the graveyards of Trantio, and the Church itself, was built using my figures. I build fluff armies, thus the legions of recently raised soldier-corpses, the zombie cultists, and little in the way of monsters. I wasn't worried, however, as his own contingent had plenty in the way of monsters
There it is .. he is a competitive player.  So he has less than what he perceives to be a competitive army, and he isn't interested in playing, even though he was warned, and has an ego that evidently thinks he can also surpass the odds, and has previously.  In a way this seems like a no win situation, and there would be little mitigating that might be effective, when the person is more interested in winning than story telling, or having a balance of both.

Quote
You don't have any Warhammer players attending these battles? Anybody that could step in at a short notice?
The players on both sides here were very experienced warhammer players. The undead player has played way more than me - for years and years he played weekly, several games. He has had undead and lizardmen armies, and in fact this is his second undead army (he sold the first when switching to lizardmen, then sold that when switching back!) The player on the other side, 'Lord Alessio' is even more veteran, and he has on many, many occasions commanded NPC armies in this campaign (he's my 'go to' guy). This means I can concentrate on being a GM, photographing and note-taking, while he plays the army better than I could have done anyway, so that it is appropriately challenging.
So is there someone who can take on the undead faction in the campaign, now that the player has "retired"?  Or does the undead force become an NPC?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 10, 2019, 01:11:01 PM
The Portomaggioran player has only ever played NPC armies who are either allied to him, share his concerns, or who are enemies of his enemies. It wouldn't seem right for him to command his enemies' armies. The undead will either become NPC, or we might find a full-on player, or a player (or players) who will just command on the field, or (like the case with the Disciplinati di Morr) a player who is happy to remotely command (taking political & strategic control) while stand-ins command in wargames.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 14, 2019, 04:32:43 PM
The Hunter Hunted
North of Viadaza, Autumn 2403

Two weeks out from the city of Viadaza, the army of the Disciplinati di Morr ground to a halt. The Praepositus Generalis, Father Carradalio, had decided enough was enough. Every night more men had died, despite the army’s precautions: the guards and watches set, the prayers spoken, hymns sung and devotions chanted. Every day they would march on, tired from their sparse and fitful sleep, exhausting themselves further, only to suffer once more at the hands of the deadly, nocturnal hunter the next night. If this was allowed to continue, their holy war would be lost before they even reached the vampire duchess and what remained of her army.

So, when morning came, the army did not recommence its march, but instead slept through the daylight hours. Their camp was to the east of the ridge of rocky hills running north from Rapallo to the bridge at Pontremola, separating the ancient road from the sea. On the road’s other side was a wide stretch of flat, open land, all the way to the River Tarano. While almost everyone slept, a handful of dedicants, chosen by lot, guarded, using every trick they could think of to keep themselves awake. What with their penchant for self-flagellation and whipping themselves into a religious frenzy, many employed methods both painful and bloody!

When darkness fell, however, and the bruised and battered guards crawled into their tents and huts, the rest of the army awoke and organised for the night ahead. Father Carradalio had ordered a hunt to be mounted for the slippery fiend, involving every part of the army (bar those few who were dead on their legs from their daylight watch). Carradalio himself, his Admonitor Vincenzo and his bodyguard of blessed torch-bearing dedicants, would stand ready near the camp’s centre, while the larger bodies of dedicants formed a surrounding ring of companies at a distance of about a hundred yards. The lighter troops, including the dedicant crossbowmen, the Urbiman horse and mercenary crossbowmen, would circumnavigate the entire camp even further out. All were to keep their eyes peeled for signs of the fiend, and if they spotted him, were to raise a loud alarm (by various means) to call everyone else to their proximity. Having the general and his elite bodyguard centrally placed ensured they would be among the first to reinforce whichever company had discovered the enemy.

This proved more difficult than Father Carradalio had hoped, for the foe was either slippery, cautious, or both. A trail was discovered, along with two corpses and three dead mules (apparently from fright!). The dedicants moved promptly, exactly as planned, but the fiend escaped. There was great frustration and disappointment, but Carradalio felt in his gut that the fiend could not elude him much longer, and both Admonitor Vincenzo and his dreams the next day confirmed his belief. As it grew dark on the evening of the army’s second day of camping, he knew the enemy would be found that night. He did not know whether the monster could be defeated, for his dreams had been cut short by his awakening just as the fiend came close, only that it would certainly be discovered.

In the second hour after midnight, with both white and green moons high in the sky, Carradalio’s prophecy proved true. He himself spotted the vampire, Lord Adolfo, lurking by a hut only two dozen yards away.

(https://i.imgur.com/Et7QeW2.jpg)

Adolfo’s once-living body had been bent and bloated into a horribly bestial form, and a ridge of horny protuberances had burst through the flesh of his back. His skin seemed blue in the moons’ light; his eyes, made small by the bony excesses of his face, were wholly bloodshot; his teeth and nails had become fangs and talons. He had long since given up wearing clothes, for there were none made that would fit such a frame as his, and he had given no thought to having any made. Such niceties were forgotten, to be replaced by a passionate rage, a vicious hunger and a loyalty to his mistress that had long since strayed far from the wrong side of madness.

(https://i.imgur.com/WqRWDke.jpg)

Carradalio sensed the vampire had not yet noticed him, and so before raising the ‘all-arm’, before even signalling to his bodyguards, he whispered a prayer to channel Morr’s will and send harm upon the foe. He could feel his words made real. For a moment his own eyes became those of holy Morr himself and power flowed through them to lash out. But the vampire merely flinched, as if the curse were nothing more than a nip to gain his attention. He turned to look upon the priest, slowly lifting a huge scimitar aloft as if about to hurl it.

(https://i.imgur.com/wWGIN13.jpg)

“He is here!” cried Carradalio, his voice revealing only angry determination.

The vampire took no more than three leaping strides before his way to Carradalio was blocked by the priest-general’s dedicant bodyguards, with many more arriving behind. Each was robed in the grey and red favoured by Morrite clergy, their flowing garments concealing the scabs and scars of many months of flagellation. They wielded either axes or blades, with most carrying a burning torch in their other hand.

(https://i.imgur.com/s14WQfN.jpg)

These were not ordinary torches - the flames not merely fire. Each one had been blessed by holy ritual, making them both mundane and magical, to burn with a heat both real and ethereal. The flickering tongues were otherworldly, as if holes had been torn in the air itself to allow the light and heat of another realm to curl through. Were they to singe Adolfo’s flesh, his enchantments would not have healed him, for these torches burnt away the stuff of magic as well as that of the material world.

But so swift was his stab and slash that not one flame did touch him, and the dedicants began to fall, lifeless, all around him. Leaping over their corpses came Vincenzo, bearing his staff with its amulet of holy water, shouting his own prayers to join with Carradalio’s chanting. Yet nothing that Morr had to offer could pierce the evil magics shielding the vampire, and before Vincenzo had even swung his own blade, Adolfo cut him in two at the belly, spattering gobbets of blood to fizzle in the flames born by the few dedicants still on their feet.

In barely a blink there was only one bodyguard remaining …

(https://i.imgur.com/cyE94Ot.jpg)

… and in half a breath he too was dispatched with ease. Father Carradalio had time to say only Morr’s name, before the vampire’s huge blade plunged through his chest. Adolfo grunted with glee, then hefted the blade upwards, so hurling the lifeless priest-general nearly a dozen yards to smash into a wagon.

The vampire froze, his giant blade clutched in both hands and dripping with blood. For the briefest moment he allowed himself to revel in his slaughterous butchery, to inhale the delicious, sanguine stench surrounding him. Then he caught sight of the mob. Swinging his head quickly about he discovered they were all around, and in some deep recess of what was left of his mind he knew that his end had come. It was a mere fragment of consciousness, buried in a mire of brutal cunning, bestial anger and ravenous hunger, and was quickly forgotten.

(https://i.imgur.com/Z1jjpXN.jpg)

Even as his blade recommenced its bloody work, the mob closed in on him, relentless. They were driven by a shared frenzy, cultivated through cruel exercises, perfected by hard practice, which despite being a temporary phenomenon, was in that moment not one jot less furious than Adolfo’s own.

From all sides came spear, axe, flail and blade.

(https://i.imgur.com/iy9KjkW.jpg)

Each and every one was thrust or swung with no care for the wielders’ own safety, nor that of their comrades, so that umpteen of their own succumbed to the torrent of blows. And at the epicentre of the swirling rage, his foul blood gushing from umpteen wounds, Adolfo was hewn to pieces. 

When the crazed combat finally subsided, the dedicants reeled away. Some sobbed into their hands, others cried out with faces raised to the sky, and yet more stumbled silently in shock, weapons held slack in their hands.

Father Carradalio was dead. Brother Vincenzo too. They were leaderless, the best of them butchered, with their work still yet to be done. They had not even crossed the bridge into the Vampire Duchess’s realm, and already they suffered a potentially fatal wound.

Was Morr testing them? Or did he already consider them unworthy of his blessing? Either way, the self-scourging was soon to begin, more bloody than ever.

………………………………….

‘Game’ Notes:

In order to resolve this encounter, as part of an ongoing wargames campaign, I had to play it out. Considering how short-lived a conflict it could prove to be, with one side having only one model, I did not think it worthy of inviting players to a table-top battle, so I played it out myself. No fudging or ignoring rolls which appeared to lessen the story – instead I accepted whatever results came up.

It may interest the wargamers amongst you to read the gaming notes of the fight described in the above story, and so here they are:

Having created charts to roll on concerning whether Adolpho or the cultists had surprise, who exactly saw who first, and whether or not the cultists involved in the initial encounter were alone, it was Caradallio who first spotted Lord Adolfo the vampire. Attempting to capitalise on the surprise, he conjured the prayer ‘Morr's Glare’ to curse the vampire. This was cast successfully, but Carradalio only rolled 1 wound, which the vampire then regenerated!

Adolfo now charged Carradalio but the general’s bodyguard (10 strong, with blessed torches that do away with regeneration saves and can harm ethereal creatures) got in the way. Adolfo could not challenge Carradalio as the bodyguard’s sole goal was to protect their ‘praepositus generalis’, and so I decided they were firmly in the way.

The 415 pts vampire was a killing machine - he had ‘beguile’ to ensure the enemy struggled to hit him; a ‘Sword of Bloodshed’ giving +3 attacks (8 in total); he was very strong, very tough, and regenerated his wounds. On top of all of this he had ‘red fury’ which meant all his successful wounds become an extra attack - e.g. 8 attacks, 6 kills, 6 wounds, then he gets 6 more attacks (but no more after that!) So I knew this was going to get messy.

Adolfo killed 7 of the 10 bodyguard. The surviving three failed to scratch him, even with 2 re-rollable attacks each.

Vincenzo now appeared and charged into combat. He attempted the prayer ‘Morr's touch’ to reduce Adolfo's Ld stat (aiding later spells). Dispelled. Carradalio tried to cast Morr's Curse to wound the vampire. Dispelled. Carradalio successfully cast Morr's Glare, but the vampire and him equalled their Ld +D6 scores, and so there was no effect. Carradalio attempted the prayer ‘Holiest Protection’ to give the dedicants a ward save. Dispelled.

The dice rolling for the Disciplinati di Morr has so far been truly AWFUL. I was so tempted to cheat, but I stuck to my guns and went with whatever, according to the rules and the dice, was actually unfolding. I have always done this with the campaign, that way even I don’t know what the future holds. I am thus a participant and a recorder of events, rather than the author of them.

Adolfo slaughtered Vincenzo, overkilling him. (Vincenzo had 'challenged' the vampire, now that there weren’t too many dedicant bodyguards to get in the way and they weren’t frenzied anymore, to buy Carradalio  and the surviving bodyguard some time.)

In Adolfo's round, I didn't allow Adolfo to issue vs Carradalio as the 3 crazed bodyguards were still fighting to keep him from their commander. (Although they had lost their frenzy now.)  Adolfo killed all three of them, then killed Carradalio, his ‘red fury’ allowing him to ‘overkill’ several times. (I know it wasn’t technically a challenge, but extra successful attacks informed the story I was to write – thus Carradalio’s dramatic demise).

The Disciplinati had lost their Praepositus Generalis, holy Fr. Carradalio, and their Admonitor brave Vincenzo, and their most blessed cultists, the general's bodyguard.

Now one of the two big surviving flagellant units showed up, being the smaller of the two, with 32 cultists, armed with nasty flails, (+2 str in the first round) and frenzied.

Adolfo issues a challenge, but I reckoned that they all just piled in furious – how would such crazed loons stop to watch a challenge fought? Two cultists died whipping themselves into a fury (The End is Nigh!), so that they were now frenzied (extra attacks), and re-rolled failed to hits and to wounds! The vampire effectively had a horde against him, fighting three deep - that's an extra 3 attacks for a total of 13 attacks at 5 Str in the 1st round.

Adolfo beguiled the unit leader (making it harder for him to attack) then killed 6 cultists. (His rolls were on the wrong side of average this time) The cultists then laid into him, flailing him so bloodily that he became a (dead) lump of battered flesh. (With re-rolls to hit and wound, 5 got through, of which not one was regenerated.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 14, 2019, 07:51:44 PM
Wow, awesome! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 14, 2019, 10:43:01 PM
Thanks GP. I am quite proud of those pics, although as always a part of me wishes I could go back and re-do them better. (But that way madness lies.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 15, 2019, 02:14:44 AM
Yep, sometimes we just need to bring an end to the effort and let it be as it is.  And it is good! :icon_wink: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on April 15, 2019, 08:29:07 AM
Yes, awsome stuff! I like the game notes too.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 27, 2019, 09:35:33 PM
A Fair Share
The City of Campogrotta, Autumn 2403

It was the middle of the morning when Glammerscale encountered the damsel Perrette. As before, her face immediately lit up with a smile and she invited him to walk together a while, which suited him well for it had been his intention to talk with her. His servant, Thaldrin, a short, round fellow with a neatly trimmed beard, fell in behind the two of them as they made progressed along the way behind the ruined walls of Campogrotta.

Along almost the entire, ragged stretch of tumbled-stones there were scattered labourers and masons, both dwarfs and men, as well as ladders, piles of wooden planks, and other necessaries for the fashioning of scaffolding needed to begin the repairs. Campogrotta had suffered greatly from the attentions of the dwarfen artillery, especially the ancient ‘cannon-imperial’, Granite Breaker.

(https://i.imgur.com/PTfX0Cj.jpg)

“You were hoping to meet with me, master Glammerscale?” suggested Perrette.

“Aye, my lady, I was. There’s much afoot and I would know your opinions concerning it all.”

“I think, in truth, it is my intentions that most concern you,” said the damsel with a grin. “And I suspect it is Thane Narhak who wants to know. I doubt he was keen to speak to such as I and so sent you as a suitable emmissary?”

“It is no burden for me, my lady,” said Glammerscale. “But aye, the thane is most keen to learn of your plans.”

“Master Glammerscale, you are a very poor spy,” Perrette said, chuckling. 

“So poor,” he agreed, “that I had not even realised I was one.”

“Or, perhaps, you are so good a spy that you can conjure an illusion of honesty and lure me into a false sense of security?”

“I always strive for honesty, my lady,” said Glammerscale. “And so, with that in mind, I am told you have considerable influence now, like unto a captain.”

“The Brabanzon behave as if I were a queen,” she said, fixing her eyes upon him, channeling a most regal stare.

Glammerscale had witnessed her in action before the walls of Campogrotta, watching the fire she conjured broiling the brutes’ slaughtermaster. He had heard also heard how she had tumbled several lead-belchers from the wall during the first assault, causing them to explode as they fell!

“I think, my lady, they have every reason to show you due respect.”

Perette laughed at this. “If that were the case, then why do they not bow before the mighty empress Granite Breaker? I may have singed the ogres’ flesh a little but look here, look at what her massive majesty did.”

She gestured to the huge fissure in the wall they were passing, as if Glammerscale needed it pointing out.

It was his turn to laugh. “Ah, but my lady, Granitebreaker, despite her enormous size, is a dwarf, and the Brabanzon would surely never kneel to a dwarf.”

“Their days of kneeling for anything other than money are long gone,” said Perette. “What respect they have for me is born of fear.”

“Is that not the case in many a kingdom?” asked Glammerscale.

Perette did not answer immediately but came to a halt. She watched a pair of Brabanzon soldiers walk by, acknowledging their bows by gesturing with her fan, then seemed caught in a moment’s reverie.

(https://i.imgur.com/B6gXEzk.jpg)   

“Now that both the Wolf and Jean dead,” she said, “as well as their closest companions, the survivors have elected me captain. If you and Thane Narhak are surprised to hear this, then I assure you that I am more so. I knew they had shaken off the yoke of vassalage to the nobility, but in choosing me it appears they care for very few of any of our homeland's traditions.”

“Are you not honoured by this turn of events?”

“I suppose, in some ways. They no longer … pester me like they used to!  Yet, I cannot say I am pleased by this turn of events. Responsibility does not sit comfortably on my shoulders.”

“I am glad to say I never had much responsibility, beyond a few servants to command and apprentices to instruct,” admitted Glammerscale. “If it means anything to you, my lady, I think the Brabanzon have chosen wisely.”

Perrette gave a little curtsey, saying, “I thank thee, good master dwarf.”

“So, captain of the Brabanzon, now that you have been paid what was promised, and your soldiers have had their desire for plunder sated, I must ask, will you go to Ravola with the wounded baron?”

“He has asked, and I have promised to put it to the men. We are a very democracy, you see, when it comes to such decisions.”

“You spoke with Baron Garoy, then?” asked Glammerscale.

“No, he sent one of his cavaliers. I asked the man if the baron was recovering well, but he simply said he had yet to get over the worst of it. Do you know if he is likely to live?”

“He is being tended day and night by the Sisters of Shallya and is under the care of the best doctor remaining in the city."

(https://i.imgur.com/LLK32aw.jpg)

Glammerscale hesitated a moment, then admitted. "In truth, I suspect the man is probably the only doctor in the city! Still, the baron is young, and the doctor assured me the break was simple. He still has the leg. He might walk forevermore with a limp, but what Bretonnian knight chooses to walk anyway?”

“Well, his messenger had little to say and could not answer at all when I asked about the terms of the proposed employment.”

“I doubt the baron himself has considered such details yet. Do not concern yourself, he’ll be fit to talk long before he’s fit to travel and so there will be plenty of time for such discussions.”

Perrette fanned herself a moment, then with a wry smile asked, “I wonder if he’ll receive me in his chambers for our negotiations?”

Glammerscale knew there was a joke in there somewhere but could not for the life of him work out how to ask without risking great offence. Had she been intimate with the young baron on their journey here? Was she suggesting she might become so? Or was it some reference to his arrogant nobility and her dubious past? He decided to play it safe and talk about chamber instead.

“The baron is comfortably lodged in what they say was wizard Lord Niccolo’s chamber. He has the largest bed in the city.”

 (https://i.imgur.com/MveRG9G.jpg)

“’Tis a wonder the brute Boulderguts did not use the bed.”

“I doubt even that bed would have been of sufficient capacity for the likes of him!”

“This wizard-lord, Niccolo,” asked Perrette. “Has he been found?”

Glammerscale frowned. “No, nor is there any clue he ever was here in Campogrotta. A very mysterious sort of man, I have to say, for the supposed ruler of a city realm. The chamber in question contained no personal possessions and was buried beneath so much dust and cobwebs it cannot have been used in some considerable time. And he apparently had neither courtiers nor servants to tend to his needs.”

“I asked some citizens,” said Perrette. “They talked of him - his tyranny and cruel proclamations. One of them told me he treated them no better than the ogres’ goblin-runt servants. But they never saw him Not once! There was a friend of a friend, who saw him, or a neighbour’s nephew, and so on, but no-one I could speak to.”

Glammerscale had heard much the same. Only the previous day, Thane Narhak suggested Niccolo must have been as old as it was possible for a man to be, and maybe a little older than that, and as such would hardly have been able to address the crowds, never mind inspire fear in them. Besides, the thane had added, Niccolo had the ogres to do the frightening, and everything else too. The man did not have to leave his rooms.

But none of that rang true for Glammerscale. Although he had said nothing at the time, he was beginning to think there was something everyone was missing concerning the wizard lord, and not just the unused chamber. There had long been rumours that Lord Niccolo was a vampire, thus his unnatural age. This was why several Tileans had suggested there must be an alliance between the vampire duchess and Niccolo, such that while the brutes tore their way through the heart of Tilea, the vampires had conquered the north – and although neighbours, they conveniently stayed out of each other’s way. Niccolo had sent a company of brutes and the last of Campogrotta’s human soldiers to join Arch-Lector Calictus II’s holy war against the vampire duchess, but he had also dispatched Razger Boulderguts to ravage the homes of the soldiers in that same army! Hardly the actions of a true ally in the fight against the vampires.

Glammerscale was not at all convinced. Vampires might shun the daylight, but not the night-time too. They needed blood and when they ruled a realm they were not shy in the drinking of it, and when made mighty by their sanguine sustenance, they need not hide every moment in the shadows. Nor did they surround themselves with brute ogres, instead siring other vampires for their courts and resurrecting the dead for their armies.

There was definitely something more to the wizard lord; something Glammerscale could not put his finger on.

He noticed the two Brabanzon who had passed them by had come to halt by a doorway, far enough away that they could not hear what he said.

(https://i.imgur.com/h5zp624.jpg)

“My advice, should you wish to take it my lady, is to get more than gold from the baron for your continued service. Without the Brabanzon, he could do nothing now. What few ogres are said to remain in Ravola could easily defend the city against what few knights the baron commands. If your assistance is all that makes his conquest possible, then you and the men of the Brabanzon should expect to receive land too. You deserve a means to live and thrive, if you wish it.”

“It seems to me that you dwarfs think of us as seeds to be planted, so that come harvest time there will be good trade to be had.”

Glammerscale chuckled at this. “Trade is good, I cannot deny it. And yes, it is better to have strong neighbours as future allies, rather than rat-infested ruins. But many Brabanzon fell before the walls of Campogrotta, and those who survived deserve more than mere gold. There is good soil and sturdy homes to be had in Ravola. A chance for old soldiers to live well.”

“Then there is more for us to vote upon. If the men want it, then I shall demand it." Fixing eyes upon him once again, she asked, "You speak of prosperous neighbours, master dwarf. What of Campogrotta itself? Now that his army has taken the city, is King Jaldeog not to rule here?”

“Oh, our king has no desire whatsoever to possess this city.” …

(https://i.imgur.com/fCVSKHL.jpg)

… “But like I said, and the king agrees, trade is good. Ravola is a Bretonian realm in Tilea, but Campogrotta is thoroughly Tilean. Its future has already been decided upon. The Compagnia del Sole, being nearly all Tileans, are to govern here, as part and parcel of their payment.”

Perrette snorted. “I suppose it costs a lot to replace their shoes.”

Glammerscale need not ask to what she was referring. The Compagnia had arrived too late to join in the assault upon Campogrotta, and now that it was becoming clear that Razger Boulderguts was unlikely to return to reclaim the city, their service was turning out to be all marching and no fighting!

“They fulfilled their contract,” he said. “And we have paid them, part in gold and part with the rule of Campogrotta. They might have accepted Campogrotta alone if your Brabanzon had not already removed so much of worth.”

“As we were promised, Master Glammerscale.”

“Aye, my lady. Well and good. I am not suggesting any wrong-doing on your behalf. Not at all. Both your company and the Compagnia del Sole have received proper recompense.”

Perrette looked around, shrugged, then asked, “Where are the new rulers, then?”

“They'll be here tomorrow. Right now, Captain Bruno Mazallini is to swear an oath before the statue of the goddess Myrmidia in Buldio, where the Battle of the Fog was fought centuries ago.”

(https://i.imgur.com/c8qETiz.jpg)

“All the Compagnia’s officers and chancellors are to swear too. It is to be quite the ceremony ...”

(https://i.imgur.com/YpD4F6z.jpg)

“… drums, colours, and all the military rigmarole that suits such a solemn and binding oath before the goddess.”

(https://i.imgur.com/6YAC87J.jpg)

“Thane Narhak himself will witness it.”

(https://i.imgur.com/A5Da7xo.jpg)

“Swear what exactly?” asked Perrette.

“That Captain Mazallini and his officers shall govern Campogrotta as agents of King Jaldeog’s will, heeding his majesty’s advice and instructions, doing all they can to make the city realm prosper, for three years, after which the city will become theirs entirely, in permanent friendship with Karak Borgo.” 

“Not the king’s vassals?”

“No, as allies and trading partners. You see, who better than an army of veteran soldiers to defend this city at such a time of troubles? My advice to them was the same I gave to you.”

“So you are planting more seeds, master dwarf? Let's hope the crop does not turn out to be weeds!”

“I like to think that whatever grows here and in Ravola, it has to be far more fruitful and pleasant than the brutes we have driven out!”

(https://i.imgur.com/SJGVxHg.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 27, 2019, 10:33:48 PM
 :icon_biggrin: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 17, 2019, 05:48:39 PM
The Battle of the Isean Hills

Prequel: Each to Their Own

The army of the Disciplinati di Morr, bereft of its beloved, founding father, but still bound to the service of holy Morr, had drawn close to the city of Ebino and then halted. When they learned the vampire duchess had more than sufficient forces within the city to repel any assault they attempted, their new pastor-general, Father Lorenzo of Urbimo, ordered the fortification of their camp so that they might instead blockade the city, harrying any forces attempting to leave the city or join the garrison, while awaiting reinforcements of their own.

Fully aware of their depleted strength (indeed, having sent her servant Adolfo to prey on them to bring about just this end), the Duchess Maria decided she would not give them time to lick their wounds, nor allow any more forces to join them, but would instead march from the city in strength to deliver her ‘colpo di grazia’.

On the morning of the battle, each of the two armies prepared themselves for the fight ahead. In the part-completed, fortified camp they were building upon the hills to the south of the city, the Disciplinati di Morr gathered for prayers; while in the fields below the ruined Church of San Sabrella to the east of Ebino’s moated walls, the vampire Duchess Maria drew all the unliving servants she had in the city to her.

The Disciplinati’s new pastor-general, the Urbiman priest Father Lorenzo, was not the orator Father Carradalio had been, and so instead of an inspired, stirring speech, he simply read from the holy book of Morr. A swathe of dedicants crowded around him, as well as lesser priests and Captain Vogel’s palace guards, and all fell silent as he intoned.

(https://i.imgur.com/ARlGkBM.jpg)

Father Lorenzo chose his passage carefully. While in Urbimo, overseeing the cruel cleansing of the town, he had favoured the verses concerning the purity of the soul required for passage into Morr’s heavenly garden, and the punishments necessary for those who tainted themselves with wicked words, deeds and thoughts, or lured Morr’s living servants into the same. When the impure were burned, he had concentrated on the chapters describing the torments awaiting those who were not suitably cleansed either through their own will and discipline, or by the punishments inflicted upon them as a curative penance. 

Here, however, before battling the vampire duchess’s foul army, he knew that something more uplifting was required. The men gathered around him were to face hell later that day, which made threatening them with the same seem somewhat redundant. He wanted to inspire them to fight fearlessly, to lay down their lives without hesitation, and so it was that he read of the abundant rewards awaiting them in Morr’s garden-paradise.

Several priests, their hands clasped in humility, stood closest to Father Lorenzo. These few knew the text well enough to add their own voices to the most important parts, thus ensuring those words were better heard by all. Other than the priests’ occasionally conjoined voices and the fluttering of the ragged banners (these fashioned from the tattered remains of ancient saints’ robes), the only other sound was the occasional ripple of mutters and whispers through the crowd as they involuntarily muttered repetitions of this or that inspired phrase.

(https://i.imgur.com/to7cvgr.jpg)

The holy book’s words revealed that every drop of blood the dedicants shed in Morr’s service would be amply compensated with heavenly wine; that long labours for their lord-god would earn them ages of ease; and that every moment of agony would be rewarded by eons of ecstasy. Indeed, those who were sufficiently holy in the here and now could experience the first hint of that eternal ecstasy within the very agonies themselves, their pain tinged with the perfect pleasures to come.

The dedicants’ attention was given a keener edge by the knowledge of what they were about to face, and as they listened to the holy book’s powerful promises, their fears were swept away and replaced with excited anticipation. The more they suffered this day, the greater the rewards would be. It was all many of them could do not to begin their flagellation there and then!

(https://i.imgur.com/2h3rmIR.jpg)



Maria knew Lord Adolfo was dead, for she had sensed his demise two weeks before. As for Biagino, he had gone so far from her that although she could feel something was amiss, she could no longer know whether he (un)lived or not. Here and now her only her vampiric servant was captain Bernhardt, who would be her lieutenant in battle. There was a necromancer, Saffiro, a wretched fellow whose fawning company she could hardly bear, his blood so dry as to be undrinkable, his very being seeming to be composed entirely of mould, dust and rags, but even ignoring her distaste for him, such a creature would prove a poor second on the field of battle. Bernhardt, on the other hand, was very much a warrior, having been a condottiere captain in life, during which he fought both in the northern realm of the Empire and all over Tilea.

As her army assembled almost in silence, she beckoned Bernhardt over. He was clad in full plate armour and carried a blade almost as long, from tip to pommel, as she was tall. When he came to a halt before her, she said,

“Good captain, faithful, favoured servant, your hand.”

Despite not knowing why she asked, he reached out without hesitation. She laid her own hand upon his, her cold, pearl-white fingers resting upon the layered steel plates of his gauntlet.

(https://i.imgur.com/LUUKDgT.jpg)

Now he understood. This action was a sign of her favour - that this day she honoured him above all others. As she looked at him, her eyes seemed just as palpable as her touch, and for moment he forgot all but his fierce love for his mistress. All about them the duchess’s undead servants became still, momentarily bereft of any directive will.

(https://i.imgur.com/G4WOumz.jpg)

Moving one step closer, Maria brought her mouth almost to Bernhardt’s cheek. She spoke quietly concerning what she expected of him in the battle to come, which was that he should give his all in her service, both his sword arm and his military ken and, if necessary, his life. She wished the foe killed to a man, so not one could escape to reveal the nature of her own forces to her enemies in the south. Having been sired by her, and utterly beholden to her will, he willingly accepted all she commanded. He could do nothing else.

Less than an hour later, near the head of the army, the two of them rode together towards the enemy’s camp.

(https://i.imgur.com/y21f18z.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 18, 2019, 01:56:19 AM
Well they ain't riding off into the sunset yet. :icon_wink:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on June 18, 2019, 11:51:16 AM
Most excellent dioramas - as usual.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 18, 2019, 10:04:29 PM
This isn’t going to end well for the living.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 18, 2019, 10:13:34 PM
How did you know, Artobahn? Colour me impressed!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 22, 2019, 05:25:58 PM
The Battle of the Isean Hills - The Battle

Working with an almost frenzied vigour that few ordinary soldiers or labourers could ever match, the Disciplinati Di Morr’s dedicants had constructed substantial defences for their camp, even in the short time they had available before the Duchess marched out against them.

(Game Note: I allowed the Disciplinati player to put the scenery, including the hills, however he liked within his deployment zone, to represent the fact that his army had chosen the best spot they could find to camp, and had built the defences as they wished.)

Their brace of Reman guns was placed in a bastion-battery atop a steep slope, while the two large regiments of dedicants defended the almost complete stretch of barricades running out from the base of the hill. Maestro da Leoni’s ‘Engine of Light’ had been hauled between the massed dedicants, while Captain Vogel and his professional soldiers waited in the rear, Father Lorenzo amongst them, intending to move up to wherever they were needed. The two small companies of crossbow, one Reman, one Urbiman, flanked the larger foot regiments, each having taken to raised ground to afford themselves a better view.

(https://i.imgur.com/m4udIpy.jpg)

Barone Pietro Cybo and his small company of light horse waited out to the far left of the army, atop a little hill, having claimed he would look for a chance to outflank the enemy. In truth, the baron had refused to dismount to help defend ‘walls of dirt’ (as he had put it himself) and it was actually  pride that had sent him out so far from the rest.

(https://i.imgur.com/2JXsviR.jpg)

The vampire Duchess Maria, eager to destroy the foe quickly, amassed her army directly in front of the enemy’s defences, intending to march right at them without any fancy manoeuvring.

(Game Note: I commanded the vampire army, now an NPC army, and so any deficiencies you might perceive in her tactics are down to my not-exactly honed wargaming skills!)

Her foot soldiers, being skeletons, crypt horrors and ghouls, formed the right of her army, aiming right at the defended stretch of barricades, while her knights, wraiths and wolves, herself and Bernhardt included, formed the left, hoping to overwhelm the defences at their extremity, burst through and thus ravage the camp’s interior.

(https://i.imgur.com/HjxOTkW.jpg)

Maria wanted her army to assault the foe as one, and so restrained the bodies so that when they did begin to close upon the foe they came up more cohesively than they otherwise would have done. (Game Note: No vanguard moves by either the wolves or wraiths.) Her second, the vampire Bernhardt, rode with the smaller body of mounted soldiers, dropping back slightly to keep an eye on the enemy horse to the right, and if they proved too cowardly to commit, which he suspected might be the case, to espy an opportunity to support the rest of the army as required.

(https://i.imgur.com/toaMWnm.jpg)

The Morrite dedicants watched the undead army come on, with a calm imbued by a resignation to their fate and a devoted belief that their god Morr favoured them. He had tested them, without doubt, even allowing their worldly father to be cruelly taken from them, but they had proven themselves unshakeable in their faith. Most now fervently believed Morr’s love for them could only have grown stronger.

One regiment fair-bristled with the steel edges and barbed tips of their vicious halberd blades  …

(https://i.imgur.com/pHq5CZv.jpg)

… while the other regiment hefted flails, whips and clubs. Both chanted words of devotion which filled them with an ever-growing lust for battle, a blind fury they were ready to release at any moment.

From above, the Reman gunners watched the enemy advance, judging the distances and adjusting the barrels elevation accordingly.

(https://i.imgur.com/4XwMFvS.jpg)

The undead foot, left a little behind by the mounted warriors’ initial advance (having only shank’s nag to transport them), and being a little too far away from the duchess to feel the full strength of her will, suddenly, and quite unnaturally, lurched forwards as she and her necromancer had intended, invigorated by the winds of magic conjured to course through them. In this way they re-aligned themselves with the horse soldiers.

(https://i.imgur.com/ueD9mut.jpg)

Game note: Vanhel’s Dance Macabre in action, as planned – it’s quite rare anything I build into an initial plan comes to fruition!)

Maria’s army were coming up fast indeed. Realising that to delay even a moment further could mean he would fail even to distract the enemy as they advanced, never mind harm them, Barone Pietro led his horsemen down the slope to approach from the enemy’s right flank. They were the only part of the army that moved.

(https://i.imgur.com/nv1IXhB.jpg)

The crew of the Luminark, having worked upon their machine almost constantly since it’s shamefully negligible contribution to the assault upon Viadaza, polishing the lenses almost hourly so that not one speck might ingrain itself upon the glass, now prayed fervently for Morr’s blessing as they wound the wheel that would bring the foremost, smallest lens into alignment and so release a beam of burning etheric light. The whole engine bucked as a crackling condensation of energy broiled between the stepped lenses then burst forwards to burn three of Maria’s knightly companions to dust! 

(https://i.imgur.com/SReFLsV.jpg)

But the crew did not notice the enemy riders’ deaths, for once again, in exactly the same manner as had happened in Viadaza, the mizzen lens cracked and, as well as momentarily sapping the breath from them, also sapped all hope that the machine would contribute any further harm to the foe. They had but one such lens left, the least perfect of the three they had begun the journey with for its peripheries were not fully polished, and which would take many an hour to affix correctly to the machine. Two of the crew shed tears at their failure, although within moments their disappointment had turned into fear as they remembered how close the terrible enemy was.

Crossbow bolts brought down a few dire wolves and skeletons …

(https://i.imgur.com/jQuRu9t.jpg)

… then the first round-shot from the guns shattered the entire rear rank of Maria’s knights, and the second broke the rest apart, even brushing Maria as it passed! (Game note, she passed her 4+ ward to survive!) Maria was left alone, with only her ghostly wraiths close by!

(https://i.imgur.com/5RoXMN1.jpg)


End of turn 1
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on June 23, 2019, 07:50:47 AM
Brilliant. Imagine if Maria had not been so magically saved and had been blasted to dust by the cannon! It'd be Khurnag all over again!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 23, 2019, 02:29:35 PM
Good question to ponder👆
Selfishly awaiting all your hard efforts 😸. Already an unexpected turn of events.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 23, 2019, 06:46:32 PM
Von Zorn. I hadn't thought of that. I was aware during the game that a lucky shot could mean very much the beginning of a definite end to the vampires.

And don't worry, Artobahn, your earlier quote was very prophetic ...


The Battle of the Isean Hills Continued

Twisting in her saddle to see all about her, with a flick of her wrist Duchess Maria sent the dire wolves charging into Barone Pietro’s company of horse. One wolf was brought down by an arrow on the way, but the rest tore into the enemy with tooth and claw.

(https://i.imgur.com/uRfmLGQ.jpg)

In the first moments of the immediately ensuing fight four riders and five wolves were slain.

Another of Maria’s tiny gesture sent her mounted wraiths hurtling into the fanatical dedicants nearest to them. Four Morrites were hewn in two by the partly-ethereal scythes, while they themselves could do nothing to harm the ghostly foe.

(Game Note: I had never really worked out just what these hexwraiths were capable of, in the right circumstances. I had intended them to pass through enemy units, not to engage them directly, thinking rank and standard bonuses would swing the combats. Here I discovered how capable they were of pinning down even large units of a certain kind - the dedicants had no banner and so all they had going for them was their rank bonus. This combat resolution score the Hexwraiths were easily able to exceed with their great weapons’ strength 5 attacks, and their steeds’ attacks too.)

(https://i.imgur.com/WRc2gG2.jpg)

Maria herself joined Captain Bernhardt and his little company of knights, but the magics they and the necromancer conjured had no effect. The enemy’s prayers, however, were not so weak, injuring one of the crypt horrors, and summoning a holy protective blessing upon Captain Vogel’s Reman Guard. The Urbiman crossbowmen brought down one of Bernhardt’s knights, and suddenly both vampires looked vulnerable. (Game note: No look out sir on the knights anymore!) Then, just when they might have fatally wounded the exposed foe, not one but both cannons misfired. Perhaps the crewmen’s fear had caused their fumbling failure? Perhaps they had lost Morr’s failure? Or perhaps the powder was just a little too damp?

The Barone and his riders cut the last of the wolves down, then watched in horror as the blue-tinged wraiths continued their apparently unstoppable slaughter of the massed dedicants defending the wall.

Maria now sensed that the tables had turned. She saw the dedicants blades sweeping by the dozen ineffectually through the hexwraiths, then noticed the gunners’ frantic activity, desperately attempting to put their eerily quiet guns in working order. She knew this moment could be her best chance, and so she ordered Bernhardt to leave her and charge the crossbowmen on the enemy’s camps’ extreme left …

(https://i.imgur.com/NnJ8M5C.jpg)

… and her Crypt Horrors and ghouls to charge into the unengaged regiment of dedicants. The latter failed to reach the enemy, and so the brutes were left for now to fight alone.

(https://i.imgur.com/qsFXt6o.jpg)

The crossbowmen failed to harm their attackers with their hurriedly launched bolts, and the vampire captain and his companions inflicted a brutal slaughter upon them. The last few fled and the undead riders’ mounts clattered over the bastion to penetrate the defences.  Maria cast a deadly curse upon the dedicants fighting her wraiths, killing no less than eight of them, then the hex wraiths killed two more (again, just enough to ensure that the necromantic magic animating them stayed strong).

(https://i.imgur.com/zJOE7f9.jpg)

The Crypt Horrors found themselves facing a great mass of dedicants, ensconced behind a sturdy earth and timber wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/lil2Oib.jpg)

They were to prove no match for the frenzied hacking of so many halberds, and all but one perished in the ensuing fight.

(https://i.imgur.com/iIKuONK.jpg)

From behind, the necromancer Saffiro could see that it would take a lot more than a few horrors to defeat such a body.

(https://i.imgur.com/usWcqt1.jpg)
 
Maria was also cognizant of the situation and took a moment to consider who to command to charge next. The Hexwraiths had completely tied up the other body of dedicants, but she wanted both regiments utterly destroyed. This was the army who had killed her pet Adolfo, and they would pay for their action.

(https://i.imgur.com/SJeabte.jpg)

There was a pleasing sense of reassurance in the fact that she was in a position to make such choices. She was not being forced to respond to the enemy’s manoeuvres but had firmly gained the initiative. Victory, she believed, was surely hers. Many of her soldiers still had to die to achieve that victory, but considering they had died before and yet still served her, it seemed of little consequence to her.

She was so delighted with how things stood that she failed to notice Barone Pietro and his surviving riders off to her right. They had seen her though, and the barone had the mad thought that perhaps he could take her on.

(https://i.imgur.com/zTWO9KT.jpg)

And so it was they closed upon her, the riders to loose their arrows, the Barone to fire his pistols.

(https://i.imgur.com/LYTbMrr.jpg)

Yet to no effect at all. Almost idly, Maria turned to look upon them, a kind of evil euphoria coursing through her. She saw them now as nothing more than a potential annoyance. She even smiled as she wondered if they knew it themselves.

While she leered at them, her hexwraiths continued their bloody work, slaying half a dozen more dedicants, whilst the last of her brute Horrors was cut down. Then she turned away, her mind made up – the ghouls would charge next.

End of turn 3.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 23, 2019, 07:37:20 PM
Loving it!! More, more ......I mean Morr, Morr!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on June 23, 2019, 08:02:23 PM
 :smile2:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 23, 2019, 08:28:31 PM
The drama! :eusa_clap: :icon_biggrin:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Fidelis von Sigmaringen on June 23, 2019, 08:42:17 PM
The d(io)rama! :eusa_clap: :icon_biggrin:

FTFY
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 24, 2019, 10:22:34 PM
Thanks ever so much, everyone. Your words made me redouble my efforts!

The Battle of the Isean Hills Continued

The great mob of ghouls, who now equalled the enemy’s regiment in size thanks to the brute Horrors’ attacks and the cultists own murderous flagellations to maintain their state of crazed frenzy, charged headlong into the defences.

(https://i.imgur.com/CIdWzrC.jpg)

Maria cantered without undue haste to the side of the hex-wraiths and watched as Captain Bernhardt and his knights turned to threaten the Reman soldiery within the camp.

(https://i.imgur.com/eDcsr3X.jpg)

Whilst the winds of magic proved little more than a gentle breeze, so that not one spell could be successfully conjured, the fight between the ghouls and the dedicants proved very bloody indeed. Seventeen dedicants dies in the initial assault, and eighteen ghouls! (Game Note: The ‘End is Nigh’ roll meant the dedicants could re-roll to hits and to wounds for their 38 (yup!) attacks. In light of this, perhaps 18 seems like a bad result!) Two more ghouls collapsed from the weakening of the magics that kept them whole.

(https://i.imgur.com/Nzan6Xf.jpg)

Captain Vogel knew he had to act decisively, before the enemy riders could launch themselves at him and his men. But when he ordered a charge, his so-called professionals proved wanting, and the hesitant lurch that resulted meant that the initiative was lost. The vampire Bernhardt and his knights were already spurring their fleshless horses into action. Standing with the Remans, Father Lorenzo quickly realised that something had gone awry, and so prayed for Morr’s Holy Protection to be gifted upon the men with him. He sensed its power as it enfolded them.

Upon the bastion-battery on the Disciplinati’s right, the cannoneers had shoved packets of grape shot down their pieces’ muzzles, and now both guns blasted the skeletons below them, shattering seven. (Game Note: 10 + 10 shots, but with 8th ed rules, you have to roll to hit as well as wound.) The bony warriors barely noticed, which in truth was the case most of the time!

The broken machine trundled about behind the defences, it’s crew’s shame exacerbated by the knowledge it was highly unlikely they would ever to get the chance to prove themselves or their machine in future battles, due to the fact that they were almost certainly going to die in this one.

(https://i.imgur.com/5aPNh5R.jpg)

The Morrite dedicants fighting the ghouls, however, were so gripped with bloodlust that no such defeatist thoughts impinged upon their minds. They now slaughtered the last of the ghouls before them, to the loss of only one of their own to the foe’s vicious claws, but at a cost of two of their own to flagellation. The hexwraiths to their left, however, had cut down another four dedicants amongst their brother regiment, who despite their manic efforts could cause absolutely no harm in return. Meanwhil,  Maria rode very close by as if nothing of consequence were occurring!

(https://i.imgur.com/PYSgDiK.jpg)

(Game Note: I was still amazed at what the hex-wraiths were doing, and could only imagine how frustrated I would have been about it if I had commanded the other side! BTW, we had toyed with the idea that the campaign player helping out by commanding an NPC army should command the undead, but as his player character, Lord Alessio Falconi, was currently engaged in a war against Maria’s servants in the south, it seemed only right that he should command here enemies in this game too!)

Maria was smiling, but there was not a soul alive who could see. She blew a kiss to Captain Bernhardt as he glanced at her upon the threshold of his charge, and then she joined him in hurtling headlong into Vogel’s hesitant Remans.

(https://i.imgur.com/cSat3aI.jpg)

The Necromancer Saffiro had watched the slaughter of both the brute Horrors and the ghouls with interest and was now satisfied to see that only a few dedicants remained upon the defences. “My turn!” he thought to himself, then raised his hands to command his skeletons to charge.

(https://i.imgur.com/4B8VsLb.jpg)

In they went, scrabbling over the piles of corpses strewn before the barricade without a care in the world, to stab a veritable forest of spears at the poor, tired souls on the walls!

(https://i.imgur.com/5LivLCi.jpg)

Before long there was but one cultist remaining. He stumbled back, his pointed hood so obscuring his sight that he had no idea he was the last. Whatever idea he did have, however, was his last.

(https://i.imgur.com/tbtXTcg.jpg)

While the Hexwraiths’ scythes continued their bounteous harvesting of souls …

(https://i.imgur.com/Abyv7et.jpg)

… Maria fatally cursed four of the Remans, then momentarily lost control of her magic while resurrected the missing knight. She was only saved from injury by her magical wards. Several more Remans died to the vampires’ and knights’ blades, and two of the knights were cut down in return. Somehow, the Remans had survived the initial impact, but the situation did not look good.

As Maria’s fight went on, cannon balls were fired to little effect, more dedicants were hewn by the wraiths, and crossbpw bolts clattered ineffectually against the corpse cart. Barone Pietro and his company rode to the rear of the undead and watched, aghast, as the slaughter went on. The riders dreaded the thought of charging in. Luckily for them, the barone gave no such command.

(https://i.imgur.com/OH1D8Tw.jpg)

Maria now allowed a fury to course through her and she personally cut down six of the Remans. This, added to the bloody work done by Bernhardt and the knights, was too much for the Remans, and they turned to flee. Father Lorenzo was one of the first of them to be cut down in that flight, then Captain Vogel’s head was removed deftly by Bernhardt, while the remainder joined them in death soon enough.

As the crossbowmen on the hill wished they had run away when they had the chance, and the gunners abandoned their pieces to tumble pell-mell down the far slope, Barone Pietro suddenly realised that he and his men might be the only ones to escape the slaughter!

If, that is, they fled now.

Which is what they did.

End of turn 6

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on June 25, 2019, 11:05:17 AM
Wow! Maria got her death wish granted on her foe. Whenever I fought the VC in the old days, this is how it ended. I only one once when a lucky canon ball took out the general. The political map has taken on a big change now.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 25, 2019, 11:12:32 AM
I don't know if the vampires are exactly 'dominant' yet. There is a truly massive army under Lord Alessio's command in central Tilea, and if it marches quickly, Maria might not have time to rebuild her army sufficiently. Then again, they are a long way away, and she has a lot of supply points coming in at the end of each season, so maybe she can?

Note: In our campaign rules, undead do not get to recover battle casualties as per other armies. Instead, in a victory, every magic user gets to cast Invocation of Nehek successfully D2 times. This means destroyed units cannot be recovered, only surviving units can be repaired. Only the skeletons could be repaired here! If they had summoned extras they would get to keep them. If they lost, they don't get to use the spell at all, and if they draw each can use it but once.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 25, 2019, 11:29:24 AM
It sounds like the battle is over?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 25, 2019, 11:38:22 AM
For the Reman Disciplinati di Morr, yes. At least for now. They have been utterly destroyed. But the 'regular' armies, including the large forces of the VMC and Portomaggiore are very much at full fighting strength.

Maria - who knows what she will do? Even now she is an NPC, and I am GM, I don't know - not until I start rolling dice for her? Out of 6, how aggressive? Out of 6, how cunning? Then creating table of options in accordance and rolling between them!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 25, 2019, 01:05:01 PM
She could be an up and coming queen, slowly accumulating the forces she needs for a take over of all Tilea.  She can raise the dead from this defeated foe, through whatever arcane arts ... and crafts ... that her cunning mind can bring forth.  Bernhardt is of course along for the ride.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on June 25, 2019, 07:21:34 PM
It would seem that Morr did not look kindly upon the previous actions of the Disciplinati, for his favour surely was not with them!

As a side note, I notice that Ghouls are also Undead in additions later than what I play. I'm sure they're still technically mortals up to 6th Edition (in Ravening Hordes anyway), and I've often found that they break and run like little hungry cowards quite often.

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 25, 2019, 07:27:31 PM
Ha, Von Zorn. I had exactly that conversation with the player of the Disciplinati. He told me I had complained about it before, and gave me an explanation behind the 'logic' of the blanket 'undead' rule - that all are maintained by the necromantic magic, given being and/or purpose and/or reason to be there, or something.

I still think it is odd that ghouls are undead. I think the player agreed with me that the real reason was simplification of the army rules, then the 'in-world' justification was added later.

I wish I had know Morr did not favour the Disciplinati di Morr, as then I would not have painted so many! I now have an entire army of cultists!!!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on June 25, 2019, 08:23:13 PM
Maybe they'll be handy if Chaos one day snakes its way into the hearts of Tilean men!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on June 26, 2019, 02:42:37 AM
Did any of the cultists survive?

If so, one cultist can raise another, and two can raise four, and so on, the next thing ya know they'll be back. :icon_wink:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 26, 2019, 05:17:39 PM
There’s More to Come
Luccini, Summer 2403

(https://i.imgur.com/ik3Z375.jpg)

“Not bad, this stuff,” declared the Cooper Artur Scharff. In one hand he clutched a tankard, in the other a flask he had tapped some of the wine into so that they could all have a taste. Only the carpenter Gerino had refused, for he was distracted by a bottle of port he had found.
 
“Not bad at all. If the other barrels are as good, we should be selling this, not drinking it. With the price this’d fetch, we could buy five times its weight of the kind of wine our boys’d be happy with.”

(https://i.imgur.com/8LNaOdS.jpg)

“You saying we’re cheap?” asked Geoberto. “’Cos I’ll have you know my palate is as sharp as any connoisseur’s when it comes to drink.”

(https://i.imgur.com/Uq6DfhJ.jpg)

“You long since burnt away any palate you ever had with strong liquors,” laughed Artur. “Did for your hair too!”

“That was practice, long and hard,” said Geoberto, “which makes me the perfect drinker.”

They were discussing their ill-gotten gains on Luccini’s southern outskirts, where a wide path led from the city down to the Almond Sands. The city had a fine harbour, with wharves a-plenty for ships of every size, but it was guarded by two stone artillery bastions, so the Sartosan pirates had disembarked from boats on the sands then marched up to assault the city from the landward side. Now that Luccini was taken, most of the vessels had moved to the city harbour, but a couple of ships and their boats, those belonging to Captain Garique, had for reasons only the captain himself really knew, remained at the sands. Which was why Garique’s crew were trudging back and forth from the beach, hauling their considerable share of the loot on the way down.

Not all of them, though, just the younkers and the foremast men. The sea artists and officers were busy drinking and talking. Artur was sniffing the wine, then allowing it to roll around in his mouth before swallowing. The others were either humouring him or had failed to notice.

Artur stroked one of the barrels and nodded in appreciation of the cooper’s skill.

“Seems to me,” he declared, “that we’ve already taken enough loot to satisfy the captains. We could disperse the fleet right now and there’d be no one a-complainin’, no bitterness nor disappointment and only praise for the admiral. And we took it easy.”

“Tell that to Oskar Furst,” said Gerino, who had started listening. Some of the port he had been sampling a moment before was dribbling down his black beard.

(https://i.imgur.com/2bg1nKL.jpg)

The admiral’s first mate, ironically named Furst, along with a number of Volker’s own crew, had died before the Sartosans even got off the beach, shot by a troop of Luccinan pistoleri left behind when the young king had marched off to war against the ogres.

“Someone was bound to be hurt,” said Artur. “You can’t expect to take a city like this without a little blood spilled. But think, if the king had been here with his army, however meagre it might be, there’d have been a lot more of us than Furst an’ a few of his lads piled at the garden’s gate.”

Geoberto laughed. “The pile’s big enough, what with all the Luccinans.”

“Their fault for arguing,” said the gunner, Isacco. “If they’d have had the sense to yield immediately, then everything would have turned out just the same, but they’d all be here to watch us.”

(https://i.imgur.com/DTok40t.jpg)

A pistol shot cracked from behind them, and they turned to look over the fence. One of Admiral Volker’s crewmen was responsible, from Furst’s watch, and was now stood over the man he’d killed.

(https://i.imgur.com/shREJnS.jpg)

“Another fool arguing, no doubt,” said Isacco. “People should know when they’re beat, furl their sails and run before the wind.”

Isacco always had a sombre tone, a consequence of his somewhat pessimistic philosophy. It was said he had been a proper scallywag in his youth but had changed when a gun he was tending shivered and killed everyone around him, somehow leaving him with not a scratch, other than a missing toe.

“Maybe so,” said Geoberto, “But wouldn’t you complain a little if you were being robbed? There’s no need for real nastiness, just the show of it would suffice. We’re taking everything else they have. We could at least leave them with their lives.”

They watched as the shooter rolled the corpse over with his foot, perhaps to see if he was dead.

“Let the fellow grieve,” said Gerino. “Furst was well liked.” 

Gerino took another swig from his bottle, and Artur drew some more wine from the tapped barrel.

“You said we should sell it, not drink it,” said Geoberto.

Artur looked up as the red fluid trickled into his flask. “Can’t sell this one, now it’s been tapped. There’s plenty more.”

“This is all our share, then?” asked Geoberto.

“It is. The captain made good choices when it came to laying claim to portions. We’ll get some carts to take this lot down to the beach.”

Gerino pointed down to where a little stream crossed the path. “They didn’t wait for a cart.”

Peering down, they could all see two fellows struggling with a barrel just on the other side of the water.

(https://i.imgur.com/rQjB1M3.jpg)

“That’s but a little one, and it ain’t the same vintage. Still, I’ll see to it that they’re the last to try that. If they drop the barrel it’ll ruin the wine even if it don’t break right open.”

“That one’ll be for the captain to drink,” said Geoberto. “They’ll not drop it. Not just now anyway, what with him so close. He took a barrel for his cabin last time.”

“As was proper,” said Artur. “It’s in the articles.”

They could all see Captain Garique standing near the two with the barrel, with Tito Álvares by his side, toting his beast of a gun.

(https://i.imgur.com/LSBRfLQ.jpg)

Garique had been supervising the removal of goods, utilising his unsheathed cutlass to point out which loot was to be carried next; ordering the tardy men to hurry up and those being careless to slow down. He was one of the oldest captains in the fleet, before that first mate to the admiral back when the admiral was only just elected captain himself. For some years he had been a captain in his own right, never once voted out, and well respected by his crew as a stickler for fairness (which was why it was only a small barrel he had taken for his own cabin). Bitter experience - the witnessing so much treachery, cheating and trickeries - had made him very suspicious of the other captains, even the admiral. Tito was often by his side, and thus Tito’s many-barrelled handgun, just in case a point needed making in no uncertain terms. It rarely did.

Garique’s share included much more than the wine. Several chests of precious metal and gems had been allotted to him, from which each of his crewmen expected their own shares.

(https://i.imgur.com/1WMTUa5.jpg)

As per the articles, the captain would receive four shares in the prize, the sea artists and officers two, the sailors one and the boy (being only half a man) half a share. Some of the chests were huge, so big that a single man could no hope to lift them.

(https://i.imgur.com/DPUewp4.jpg)

Those who were not lugging the loot were guarding its transit. The larger chests had blunderbuss and handgun armed escorts, while watchful sentinels were dotted all along the route.

(https://i.imgur.com/9dFZbWk.jpg)

Luccini’s pistoliers had successfully scarpered after their brief assault, and so could conceivably return. As it was not known where exactly King Ferronso and his army were, no one could be sure he was not on his way home right now. Mostly, however, they were keeping an eye out for other Sartosans. Driven by greed and possessing of some flimsy excuse about gambling debts or compensation or some such, it was entirely possible that some other crews might choose to interrupt the loot’s journey to the sands.

(https://i.imgur.com/KU8IVHq.jpg)

“The fleet’ll not be splitting up now, Artur,” said Isacco. “This has been just a taster of what’s to come. They say the brute Boulderguts took everything from the cities and towns inland, which leaves the coast all to us. I say Luccini was easy, and the next place will be easy too. The noble lords have taken their armies north. There’s nothing to stop us.”

“There might be plenty to stop us,” said Gerino. “I’ve been to Remas, and Portomaggiore and Alcente. They’re great powers. They can march an army away and still have an army at home if they choose to.”

“So where is next, then?” asked Geoberto.

Artur swallowed his biggest gulp yet. “You might be right about Alcente and Portomaggiore, Gerino," he said, "but Remas has been wracked by rebellion and riots, and has sent armies north, south and west. If the Remans have anything more than Luccini had to defend their walls I’ll eat my hat.”

“And wash it down with wine?” grinned Geoberto.

“It’s all about surprise,” said Isacco. “Remas is too obvious. Rich, old, battered to buggery, it’s where everyone will be expecting us to go. We could take somewhere smaller next. Maybe Volker knows we can take Alcente or Portomaggiore? Maybe we only took Luccini first because it was the closest?”

“Or the admiral wanted to try us out,” suggested Artur. “Flash our pans to make sure we’re ready for a real fight?”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on July 26, 2019, 10:00:33 PM
As if there isn’t enough to worry about. Rogues and pirates to pick the bones.
Love the fluff
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 26, 2019, 10:55:21 PM
Not just fluff, though. The player ordered the raid and the raid occurred. No need for a game when it's a forgone conclusion. What we call 'paper rules' applied.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on July 26, 2019, 11:51:41 PM
Pretty much anything can happen. I look forward to seeing some of them walk the plank 😸
Looking at your characters, I wish I had some of there wine. Not the port though. Takes a real drinker to handle that.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 28, 2019, 11:01:29 AM
As if there isn’t enough to worry about ...

Oh, there's way more than pirates to worry about, Artoban's Ghost!

...

The Message-Letter
Somewhere in Tilea.

Three of the Grey Seer’s servants were making their hurried way to him. For an otherwise abandoned stretch of tunnel, there was a lot of noise as they progressed, what with the crunching of the gravel beneath their feet, the clattering of the lantern the servant Bolk held aloft to illuminate their passage, and the strained wheezing sound of Gradger’s mask-assisted breathing. All this was amplified by the close stone walls around them, conjoining and reverberating, so that when they did speak they had to shout – or, more accurately, squeal. 

“Your message-letter, Farrgrin, important is it? Yes, yes?”

“Never look, never read, just carry. That is my task-burden. Not for my eyes, see?” Farrgrin glanced back to indicate that they were being watched even now, for Bolk had more responsibility than merely lugging the lantern. Whether or not Gradger, his vision restricted by the small, thick glass lenses of his mask, noticed the gesture, Farrgrin did not know.

“Has to be important. It is for the lord-master. He will not look upon petty gossip and chatter-drivel.”

“You are asking what you should not be asking,” snapped Farrgrin. “Best be silent, or I might suspect-believe you to be a spy-traitor.”

“Not-ever I,” said Gradger. “Always obey, never shirking.”

“Well and good, best for all,” declared Farrgrin, nevertheless tightening his clutch upon the scroll.

(https://i.imgur.com/0jYp6Pv.jpg)

They were in one of the lesser tunnels, leading from a little used exit. There were no breeding pits, slave pens, mine entrances or fungus caverns along this stretch, and nor had there ever been. Perhaps it had originally been intended as a sally port, or an emergency escape route? Farrgrin cared not, to him it was simply a satisfactorily secretive option.

Gradger’s mask let out a strained hiss as he took a deep intake of breath, and Farrgrin knew another comment would follow.

“I ask-enquire only because of Josgrach,” he said. “His was important news - the collapse, shoddy work-failings, fools in charge - which angered the lord-master. Rightly so, yes, yes, rightly so. Important news it was and the end of Josgrach. Bearer of bad tidings and killed-dead because of it.”

“It is not-ever for us to question the lord-master,” said Farrgrin.

“But yet what of us, I ask and plead, if this is grave and disturbing news? Are we to be blame-punished for the mere carrying of it?”

“The lord-master knows-sees that which we cannot. Failings, you said? Perhaps Josgrach failed, see? Late-delayed, or talk-chattering too much, see?”

Farrgrin picked up the pace a little, and began to outstrip Gradger, running almost beyond the limit if the lantern’s light.

(https://i.imgur.com/kJDw4sA.jpg)

“Listen well, listen hard, understand,” he continued. “Learn from Josgrach’s fate, not fear, but sense. What is important is that we carry this message-letter prompt, quick, secret. So keep up! And shut up! See?”

They were approaching the end of the tunnel, where it met with a well-used passageway close to the Grey Seer’s cavern-chambers.

“Here, now, the guards,” hissed Farrgrin. “Remember my advice-words and live.”

Gradger allowed himself to drop back further, so that Bolk was between him and Farrgrin. A moment later they rounded the bend to the junction.

(https://i.imgur.com/6dTtjAp.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on July 28, 2019, 11:45:27 AM
Absolutely awesome. That last photo of the party approaching the guards is fantastic, and highly suggestive of a vast unclean presence somewhere below. Things are getting worse for Tilea!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 07, 2019, 11:13:48 PM
A Letter Sent to Many, Autumn IC 2403

This to be sent to all the legitimate and honourable rulers of Tilea, for their better understanding of the foul Treachery performed at Verezzo this Autumn of the Year IC 2403 and furthermore so they may know how the Lord of Pavona, His Grace Duke Guidobaldo Gondi, has offered his help and protection to all the citizens of that realm in their time of dire need and great sorrow.
 
Upon returning from Remas and having learned from his subjects of the discovery of the remains of a camp near unto Scozzese, the Duke rode post-haste from the security of his ancient and noble city of Pavona with his gentlemen at arms in order to investigate. It was quickly apparent that goblins had indeed utilised the camp in question, without a doubt the same force that held Scozzese to ransom by threat of destruction whilst the noble duke was abroad leading the pursuit of the tyrant Boulderguts. Keen to exact retribution for their actions, and to cleanse Tilea of their kind so that no more realms might suffer at their foul hands, and without a care for the meagre size of his own force, Duke Guidobaldo rode forthwith in pursuit.
 
The trail led unto the realm of Verezzo, and when Duke Guidobaldo’s outriders reported encountering several many citizens fleeing from the realm, the noble lord of Pavona feared that the goblins had already set upon this realm in a similar manner, perhaps this time employing the violence they had threatened against defenceless Scozzese. Upon questioning the Verezzan citizens, however, it became clear that a quite different crime had been perpetrated.
 
Here is the full and horrible nature of the account Duke received.
 
A force, clad in the blue and white livery and flying the colours of Portomaggiore, had arrived at the outlying estates to the north of the city of Verezzo to announce they were there to take the supplies promised by Lord Lucca Vescussi. They claimed Lord Lucca was still with the grand alliance army near Trantio, engaged in the war against the vampires, but that his orders were clear - that the army of Portomaggiore was permitted by his command to take all it needed for its sustenance during this time of war, in return for the protection it was providing the realm.  The citizens complained that they themselves had been given no instructions to give anything at all to the Portomaggiorans, only that they should provide the army of the VMC with the supplies stockpiled for that very purpose, which indeed they had done only two weeks previously, and furthermore the Lord Lucca had already returned to their realm a week before. The soldiers scoffed at these claims, redoubled their demands, and then began violently plundering everything of worth and value they could lay their brutal hands upon.
 
(https://i.imgur.com/T74J8hV.jpg)
 
News quickly reached Lord Lucca, ruler of Verezzo, who gathered what little force remained in his realm after his considerable contribution to the army of the Grand Alliance and rode out to face the robbers in battle.
 
(https://i.imgur.com/vPhqwm7.jpg)
 
As well as his riders, being light horsemen from a wild region of the Border Princes who had served him for many a year and were glad to dwell in a more civilised land, he had a company of crossbowmen, stout citizen militia all, and the one gun remaining in his small arsenal, being an ancient piece kept serviceable despite its archaic nature. He also sent word to the halfling soldiers remaining in Terrene that they should move as rapidly as possible to support his small force.
 
Upon arriving, he found a not inconsiderable force of what appeared to be Portomaggiorans arrayed before him, including a large body of brigand-bravi flying the personal banner of Lord Alessio Falconi - presumably a part of Falconi’s not inconsiderable household forces …
 
(https://i.imgur.com/7zZln8d.jpg)
 
… as well as a body of mercenary crossbowmen, apparently Arabyan (perhaps a remnant of Gedik Mamidous’ Sons of the Desert left behind in Tilea?) The latter, by their very nature, might be expected to behave in such a manner, but then Lord Lucca saw, to his horror, that among the robbers was a body of mounted men-at-arms, liveried in the blue and white of Portomaggiore, well-armed, armoured and mounted upon horses of quality.
 
(https://i.imgur.com/c2lKQww.jpg)
 
That gentlemen might stoop to such wicked and ignoble action was offensive to Lord Lucca, as it subsequently seemed indeed to Duke Guidobaldo when he first heard the report. If only our two realms, Pavona and Portomaggiore, had been granted differing liveries by history? Here was an action that demeaned the colours blue and white. Only pride, well earned, prevented our Duke from declaring then and there that he would change the livery of his own soldiers, for he knew full well that if any should change, it ought to be the Portomaggiorans, for it was they by their own actions (or so it seemed at that time) who had disgraced their livery.
 
Lord Lucca’s crossbowmen came on as best they could, to support the fast-moving lord and his body of light horse …
 
(https://i.imgur.com/3KpUKz2.jpg)
 
… but the Arabyans cut down many of them before they could even span their weapons. In return, the old cannon felled two of the enemy’s heavy horsemen, their armour as butter to a ball of iron, no matter how old the piece that hurled it!
 
(https://i.imgur.com/Aj8yiTc.jpg)
 
Knowing he and his light horse could not hope to prevail in direct combat against such armoured riders as the enemy possessed, Lord Lucca led his men in a merry dance against the foe, adding their own short-bow arrows to the quarrels and round-shot of the rest of his force, buying time so that when the halflings arrived, led by the famous ‘Pettirosso’ himself, Roberto Cappuccio, the battle was still yet to be decided.
 
(https://i.imgur.com/6ykcGlB.jpg)
 
More of the enemy’s riders fell as the halfling’s proved their skill at archery, and while the regular archers of Terrene engaged in an exchange of arrows with the Arabyans …
 
(https://i.imgur.com/QB92coq.jpg)
 
… the bravi carrying Lord Alessio’s banner were badly stung by the Verezzan crossbowmen and turned to flee! The halflings, made bold by their successes, advanced, only to be severely mauled by the piercing power of the Arabyans’ quarrels. Faltering, they could only watch with horror as the enemy’s mounted men at arms charged and destroyed the Verezzan crossbowmen. Just when the old cannon was needed, when the enemy had revealed the flank of their body to its muzzle, it failed to fire.  The desperate crew managed to make it ready again and it did successfully fire, but its ball overshot the foe. The men at arms, perhaps angered by what it had done to them earlier in the fight, now charged the cannon itself and mercilessly cut down the crew.
 
Lord Lucca, seeing his crossbowmen and artillery piece destroyed, and his brave halflings falling upon the flank, suddenly saw an opportunity to inflict hurt and charged the bravi who had rallied and reformed close enough for him to reach. Once again they fled, as soon as he launched his charge, and he soon realised his error, for in attempting to close upon the foe he had opened his riders to a charge from the enemy’s remaining mounted men at arms.
 
His pursuit faltered as he attempted to regain order, then turned to flight when the enemy did indeed come thundering towards him. He and his light horse, who would normally have easily outstripped such a heavily armoured foe, where so disordered by casualties, and his attempt to stop their charge against the bravi, that they could not escape, and to a man, the noble Lord Lucca included, they were hacked down and trampled into the dirt.
 
And so Lord Lucca was killed, in an act of foul treachery, whilst fighting to save his citizens from thieves and murderers.
 
Made furious by what he had heard, Duke Guidobaldo rode immediately onwards in the hope of closing with the supposed Portomaggiorans himself, but they had fled away quickly, proving themselves to be base cowards, and he found only one of them remaining, a fool who could barely stand for having drunk too much of that which his comrades had looted. When this man was questioned, the truth was revealed, and it was no less horrible than that which had been believed before.
 
The looters were not Portomaggiorans at all, but rather had deliberately disguised themselves as such. They were hired-soldiers of the VMC, who had most likely been sent thither to stir up dissension between Tilean states by their cruel actions, and at the same time to take more than that which had been agreed. Northerners are well known for their grasping greed, being in many ways no better than Sartosan pirates, only dressing up most of their robberies as trade, with papers, tickets and receipts to mask its true nature.
 
Here they had gone one terrible step further, for they had dressed themselves as Portomaggiorans, even unto carrying Lord Alessio’s banner, so that they might rob the Verezzans, despite having declared themselves to be allies of both states and willing to march north to assist them against brutes and vampires. In truth, they had come, as they came last year to Camponeffro in the realm of Raverno, to raze and plunder, rape and murder.
 
Either that, or the officers of the VMC had already lost control of a significant portion of their mercenary forces? Perhaps their obsession with profit had led them to cut corners and hire scum little better than corsairs and outlawed bravi?
 
Whatever the truth, whatever the VMC soldiers’ motivations, Duke Guidobaldo knew that he could not leave the citizens of Verezzo leaderless and without military protection. Not only would they be open to further abuses at the hands of possibly rogue VMC soldiery, but also in this time of war against vampires, brutes and even scavenging goblins, they might suffer at the hands of a multitude of others. He also knew that after the ravaging of his own realm, the battering of his own army, and the fact that his son was fighting with the grand alliance in command of most of Pavona’s soldiery, that he had entirely insufficient forces to guard both Pavona and Verezzo effectively, and so he has offered the citizens shelter in his own realm, being welcome to settle in the ruined villages and towns left in the wake of Boulderguts’ rampage, thus re-populating those settlements.
 
Furthermore, Duke Guidobaldo even has in his possession a letter from Lord Vescucci in which the Verezzan ruler proposed that the two of them ought to lay aside all past grievances so that they might more effectively support each other in the mutual defence of their realms in this time of emergency. Having received this touched the Duke’s heart, especially as Lord Lucca most likely lay dead before the Duke even read his word. And his sadness was magnified by the plight of the poor people of Verezzo.
 
So it is that right now the people of Verezzo, their goods and chattels, their livestock and servants, are being encouraged to travel to the safety of Pavona, so that they might both survive and prosper under the protective care of Duke Guidobaldo.
 
All praise be given to the great god Morr, whose embrace will comfort us through the long aeons after our lives, for his working through his servant, Duke Guidobaldo Gondi, to ensure the people are so comforted even before they part this mortal coil.
 


Appendix
We played the battle, but I decided to recreate more artistic pics of certain moments and units rather than use the in-game pics. Instead I used the in-game pics as memory aids to help me set up the 'arty' pictures and to write the story of the fight. I laid casualties down a few times before photographing, etc, so that the pics told me what happened rather than the scribbled notes I usually faff about with. This technique helped me to play the game without too many distractions. (I played the NPC Verezzans.)

Also, we decided that as it was a small game (approx. 1000pts vs. approx. 750 pts) and because we had the time available (zipping through the turns with so few units and no magic) that we would play to the obvious end of the battle. As a consequence the game lasted 8 turns. 

Here are a few actual in game pics, in order …

(https://i.imgur.com/LbviIkI.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/hlAsjcz.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/aIQ8W04.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/KYVPSUg.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/jPw2cOU.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/yfjljcX.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/awOnCcW.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/uDEJx2D.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Fs1kElM.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/6Cdb6OF.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on August 08, 2019, 09:48:19 AM
Great stuff. Deviousness in action! What range are the Arabyan Crossbowmen from?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 08, 2019, 09:51:04 AM
I have the name of the range in a comment from a while ago so I'll look for it. What I can remember is that although I use them as Arabyans they are actually Chinese!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on August 08, 2019, 10:00:25 AM
Thanks. I suspected they might be something along those lines as I was only recently looking for some Arabyan crossbowmen myself! I like the various ranges you use and I think I have identified most of them. 
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on August 11, 2019, 04:20:53 PM
Awesome story. I like the idea of transplanting the people for safety and rejuvenation. Good for all involved

Quote padre : talk-chattering

The skaven squeak speak is probably the most endearing aspect of them.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 12, 2019, 11:48:36 PM
Great stuff. Deviousness in action! What range are the Arabyan Crossbowmen from?
Oops. Forgot you asked. Done the search now: Essex Miniatures 28mm T'ang & Five Dynasties Chinese.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on August 13, 2019, 07:16:42 AM
Thanks Padre! I never looked seriously at Essex's 28mm range as I assumed they'd be tiny. They don't appear to be, so this opens up a whole new can o' worms!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on August 13, 2019, 11:18:37 AM
Shiver me timbers! :icon_mrgreen:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 01, 2019, 08:42:09 PM
Scuttlebutt!
The town of Scozzese, in the realm of Pavona
The very end of Autumn, IC 2403


Pieter Schout, the army of the VMC’s chief linguister, had been making his was through the army camp to attend upon the general, but as he had time to spare, he stopped a while to speak with Captain Vinco and one of the quartermaster general’s clerks, who were inspecting a recently arrived wine cart.
 
“This is not good,” said the clerk, Zanobi, as he swilled the contents of the little pewter can he had just taken a sip from, his lips contorted in disgust. “Even thirsty soldiers would not consider this drinkable. These merchants are mocking us. To offer such as this for the price they expect us to pay is an insult.”
 
“Then it cannot be the same wine the quartermaster general and I tasted of,” said Captain Vinco, reaching out for the can.
 
The clerk pulled the can away. “I know you to be a brave man, good captain, but there’s no need to face this particular enemy!” He poured out what remained, then folded his arms as he did so often, the empty can disappearing behind the loose sleeves of his orange doublet.

(https://i.imgur.com/Y2T5m50.jpg)

The captain bowed flamboyantly, as if acknowledging a gracious favour, eliciting a smile from Pieter.
 
“Dishonesty seems to be trait shared by more than just the merchants of Scozzese,” said Pieter. “There was something deceitful about the town’s councillors who spoke yesterday with the general. When we arrived here, they were welcoming, even ingratiating. Then they turned suddenly sour when Duke Guidobaldo’s letter came …”
 
“Well that’s surely to be expected?” interrupted Vinco. “Considering the claims contained in the letter concerning our own soldiers.”

(https://i.imgur.com/Y9yXiOK.jpg)

The captain commanded a company of mounted handgunners, but himself preferred the full armour of a man at arms. As he had only just returned from a scouting foray he was even now plated from the neck down, although had discarded his helmet to wear a feathered leather cap instead.
 
Pieter understood the captain’s point. The duke of Pavona’s letter had slandered the VMC, accusing them of attacking and plundering the villages of Spomanti in Verezzo, even killing Lord Lucca in the process, while disguised as Lord Alessio’s Portomaggioran soldiers, as if too cowardly and ashamed to own what they had done. As the Scozzese councillors were the duke of Pavona’s subjects, it was to be expected they would accept their own lord’s account and so show anger towards the soldiers of the VMC.
 
Yet even then their anger seemed tempered, as if dulled by some other occult concern. In contrast to their feigned disquiet, Pieter now remembered the flash of real anger in Luccia la Fanciulla’s face when she herself heard the letter’s contents – a far more substantial reaction than that of the councillors, despite her quick efforts to subdue any sign of her emotion. She was a Tilean noblewoman, sworn before the goddess Myrmidia to serve in the army of the VMC, having accepted its cause was honourable. The faction of Marienburg trading interests forming the Vereenigde Marienburg Compagnie had been invited to defend Alcente from Khurnag’s Waagh and, having done just that, was now acting in the defence of the whole of Tilea against the vampire duchess. Luccia’s own honour was bound up with that of the VMC, so to insult it was to insult her.
 
Captain Vinco laughed. “I can imagine the discomfort they felt when obliged to question our general concerning their own lord’s accusations. There is no pleasant way to address such matters.”
 
“I know,” said Pieter. “They had no reason to doubt the letter and they were very nervous before the general. But what seemed to me to be dishonest was the way they yielded so quickly when General Valckenburgh answered them and seemed so easily convinced of their error.”
 
Captain Vinco frowned. “So … you think they should have been obstinate and called the general a liar to his face?”
 
“Why not, if they were honest?” asked Pieter.
 
“Cowardice springs to mind,” said the captain. “It’s one thing for such men to defend their lord’s honour when among friends, quite another when faced by an army such as ours.”   
 
“You might have the truth of it,” Pieter agreed. “Indeed, the general seemed to believe fear was behind their sudden acceptance of his argument. If that was so, then they most likely still believed Duke Guidobaldo’s version of events, and were merely pretending to believe the general. Which is dishonesty. And if not that, then they were truly swayed by the general’s words, readily dismissing their own lord’s report as false. Which is another species of dishonesty, for it breaks the bonds of loyalty between them and their lord. Either dishonesty would explain their sudden amenability.”
 
The clerk snorted. “Oh, they’re not that amenable, otherwise they’d have delivered what was paid for. Not this vinegar!”
 
“Perhaps they feel guilty about accepting the general’s word over their own lord’s and so thought to make amends by pursuing bad trade with us?” suggested Captain Vinco, grinning.
 
“If you have an understanding of Pavonans, good captain,” said the clerk, “then you have a rare skill my friend. I heard they banished every dwarf from their realm, for reasons no-one can make head nor tail of.”
 
“I’ll warrant the reason was to do with gold,” said the captain. “Duke Guidobaldo will have profited somehow from their departure.”
 
“Perhaps he just hates short people?” suggested Pieter, only half joking. “From the way the Verezzan halflings were talking, the hatred is reciprocated.”
 
Only the day before a company of halfling rangers had arrived at the camp, from the realm of Verezzo where there was said to be an entire town and several villages of their kind. They too demanded an audience with the general, who had joked to his closest advisers that it was becoming hard to command the army what with all the guests he had to welcome.
 
“You mean this Pettirosso?” asked Captain Vinco.  “You were present when he spoke to the general?”
 
“I was,” said Pieter. “It was thought a linguister might be needed in case they spoke to each other in a halfling tongue.”
 
“I knew you possessed an abundance of tongues but had no idea you spoke a halfling language,” said the captain
 
“Only after a fashion, for it is more a dialect of the Empire. It turned out Pettirosso spoke only Tilean, which made me somewhat redundant.”

(https://i.imgur.com/YQrFp8k.jpg)
 
Captain Vinco and Zanobi stared at Pieter, which at first confused him, until he realised they most likely had no idea what was said at the meeting.
 
“Well, I suppose it is no secret,” he began, “Or at least I have not been bound to keep it so from our own officers and clerks. It was this Pettirosso who brought news of the Pavonans crossing the River Remo, and a new account concerning what exactly happened at Spomanti.”
 
“Everyone knows the duke lied in his letter,” declared Zanobi.
 
“Everyone here knows, of course,” countered the captain. “I think we ourselves would have noticed if it was is doing the robbing! But the rest of Tilea might well believe the duke’s lies!”
 
“This Pettirosso fellow claimed the duke had done much more than lied,” continued Pieter. “It seems he and his rangers were there when Lord Lucca died, and their tale began very much like the Duke of Pavona's letter. A force, Portomaggioran by their standards and livery, did indeed attack Spomanti. Their beloved Lord Lucca rushed to its aid, sending orders to the rangers to support his counterattack, along with more of Terrene’s halfling soldiers.  When they were defeated, their lord killed, Pettirosso and his band were just about the only ones to escape. Knowing the land well and very talented at 'sneaking about' they not only evaded the enemy's clutches but remained to spy on the so-called Portomaggiorans.”
 
“‘Sneaking you say? How so?” asked the clerk.

(https://i.imgur.com/lrtk5ER.jpg)
 
Captain Vinco shushed the clerk, saying, “Hold your tongue, Master Zanobi. Pieter’s about to tell us the part we don’t know.”
 
“No, no, I will answer,” said Pieter. “For to know the nature of he who delivered a story, is to better judge how far said story can be trusted. A ‘Pettirosso’ is what the Verezzans call a Robin Redbreast, and it is a somewhat famous nickname in these parts. His real name is Roberto Cappuccio. He was once an outlaw, a ‘goodfellow’ who declared a love of righting wrongs. He was set against the tyrant who was Lord Lucca’s father, stealing from him and his most cruel officers, and apparently doling out much of what was stolen to the poorest of folk. Once Lucca became ruler, the thief recognised this philosopher son was nothing like his father, and when he daringly approached Lord Lucca to offer himself for wise judgement, to the astonishment of the court, he was accepted as a loyal servant for his ‘good deeds’, and he and his rangers, skilled archers all, became part of Lord Lucca's marching army.
 
Captain Vinco laughed. “Bravo! Quite the story. It would be fascinating to know the truth behind it. Still, I see how knowing this Pettirosso’s reputation might colour our perception of what he had to say.”
 
“Maybe so,” agreed Pieter. “There could be several species of lies concealed in what such a fellow has to say. Anyway, he claimed the enemy, having stripped all the loot they could from Spomanti, moved off northwards. After a while they halted, burned the flags and changed some of their clothes - the knights, however, keeping their blue and white livery. Then a company of Southland’s crossbowmen, mercenaries for sure, and a handful of the knights went off further north, escorting the loot, while a regiment of bravi-swords and the rest of the knights, along with their commander, headed off east-by-south. Pettirosso did not want to divide his little band, so he decided to follow the loot and thus discover who and where it was going to.
 
“They shadowed the little force, until they saw it approaching the river crossing over the Remo at Casoli, which they said proved their suspicions - the looters were not Portomaggioran as duke of Pavona claimed. They were the duke’s own men! Not that the Pettirosso knew of the claims made by Duke Guidobaldo’s letter. He simply reported what he himself claimed to have discovered.
 
“Later that same day, the Pettirosso spotted our own scouts, and looking for potential allies, he trailed them and thus discovered us.”
 
Captain Vinco laughed loudly. “And, being a bold, little fellow, marched right on into our camp to demand an audience with the general!”

(https://i.imgur.com/TsvoOHx.jpg)
 
The clerk had a furrowed brow, obviously pondering all that he had heard. “So, we have only the word of a famous ex-thief?” he said. “Whose dead lord happened to be an enemy of the duke of Pavona? What did the general say?”
 
“General Valkenburgh is ever the diplomat,” answered Pieter. “He thanked the fellow; expressed sorrow for his loss but said that because he himself was no Tilean he would have to tread carefully when dealing with such serious claims. Then, as a kindness, he offered the rangers employment as scouts in our army, howsoever temporarily, that they might not be without bread.”
 
“Ha ha!” chuckled Captain Vinco. “A proud, strutting Robin Redbreast made to feel like a beggar!”
 
“Indeed,” agreed Pieter. “It may not have been the general’s best judged answer. The attempted act of charity changed the Pettirosso’s demeanour considerably - the fellow’s face went bright red with anger, his eyes showing more than a glimpse of the rebel he’s said to have once been. As bold as you like, he launched into an impassioned tirade, telling the general that Lord Lucca was murdered by dishonourable thieves led by a coward who disguised himself and his men as Portomaggiorans. He said that such a crime went beyond robbery and murder, being an attempt to ferment war between several Tilean realms, and this at the very time they must instead unite to fight the terrible enemies from the north. Then he told the general that ‘treading carefully’ was not way to answer such a crime, and certainly not one that was even now ongoing.”
 
“How did the general take that?” asked Zanobi.
 
“Oh, he was as inscrutable as ever, as if no offence at all had been given, nor had any been intended.”

(https://i.imgur.com/PxEabeM.jpg)
 
“He’s here to profit the company,” said Vinco, “not to get all heated about slights and Tilean honour.”
 
Now Zanobi snorted. “He got heated enough when he ordered the burning of Camponeffro as punishment for what the Ravernans did.”
 
“Aye, but even then the company profited, or at the least made no loss, for we took everything of value before setting the fires,” said the captain. Then he asked, “Pieter, what did the general say to this petty arabiatti?”
 
“He just asked what the halfling meant by it being an ‘ongoing’ crime. It turned out that the stolen loot, on a lumbering, overloaded caravan, guarded by a mere handful of soldiers, is apparently, right now, within our reach, still on this side of the river and waiting to cross. The Pettirosso said that a quick force of horsemen, as well as his own lads, who for revenge he claimed would happily run until their lungs burned, could reach the loot and easily dispatch the handful of guards. ‘You have horse soldiers, do you not, my lord?’ says he, as if making an idle enquiry at supper. ‘Why not act now?’ he asked, ‘And so retrieve that which was stolen. Let’s teach these murderers a lesson they shall not forget!’”
 
“Bolder and bolder,” said the captain.
 
“Oh, he did not stop there. When the general did not answer immediately, the halfling suggested that the Portomaggiorans, whose brave ruler Lord Alessio was even now leading the mighty alliance army in the north, would surely be more than grateful if the general both cleared his name and punished those who were attempting to besmear his reputation. The Portomaggiorans would be in the general’s debt, he said, as would all those who love the truth. Then, his impatience perhaps getting the better of him, he said that if the general will not help him before it is too late, then he would find another way, or die trying. He loved his master for conscience sake, with all his heart, says he, and would not risk allowing this crime to go unpunished.
 
“When the general answered that he would have to consider the matter, and take advice from his Tilean lawyers, the Pettirosso finally went too far. He looked the general in the eye, as bold as brass, and says: ‘As you are merchants from the north and cannot understand honour like a Tilean, I would willingly pay you half what was stolen, if you will lend help, and if I am allowed to return home with the rest.’”
 
Captain Vinco shook his head in disbelief, with closed eyes, while the clerk rolled his eyes to the heavens.
 
“I think then, even the halfling noticed the mood had changed. Yet still the general simply nodded, declaring he would think upon it all. Before the ranger could dig himself any deeper, the general dismissed the fellow, ordering him and his men to eat, rest, and so prepare themselves for what must be done in the morrow.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 09, 2019, 03:59:26 PM
To His Holiness Bernado Ugolini, Most Highly Favoured of Morr, from your faithful servant, Brother Migliore.
The End of Autumn, 2403

If it pleases your holiness, I hereby and humbly present the conclusions of my researches into the history of the Ratto Uomo, commissioned by yourself in light of the ever more numerous reports of sightings upon the seas around, and even within the lands of, Tilea.

Concerning their ships

The ratto uomo are not natural seafarers, but can it be claimed that any land-born race truly is? Perhaps the elves have perfected the art of maritime navigation more fully than all others, but even their sailors must find their sea legs before becoming accustomed to ship-board life. All vessels are subject to the vicissitudes of the seas, battered by the winds and waves, pulled by the currents, baked by the sun and befuddled by the light of the chaos moon. All sailors of all races fear becoming embayed on a lee-shore or attack by corsairs, and there are none who are immune to ship’s fever, the bloody flux, scurvy or simple starvation when sustenance proves hard to find. Nevertheless, the ratto uomo must not be thought to be deficient in their mastery of the seas, for I have learned from the salty dogs of the holy city and Portomaggiore that the ratmen’s vessels have long been able to sail close-hauled on a bowline, indeed directly into the wind, being for the most part propelled not by sails but by great screws affixed beneath their sterns, powered by blasts of sulphurous steam made forceful by the conjoined, mundane and etheric heat of their sky-stones. This is why they are so feared, for they can bear down upon a prize from leeward as easily as windward. Furthermore, even their tenders and their lesser, lighter vessels, of insufficient worth to warrant such infernal engines, are most often galleys, and as the ratto uomo care not a jot if their slaves are worked en-masse unto their very deaths, then they can similarly speed through the seas contrary to any wind, so that any sailing ship in pursuit must tack close to have a chance to intercept them.

Several many seamen made the claim that the reports of ratto uomo in the gulf are on the increase, yet at the same time, a good number instead told me that there have always been reports of such sightings, and that nothing has changed, for tired, hungry, fearful eyes can conjure many a danger in the distance, the mists or in the crepuscular hour. It can rarely be known why lone ships are lost at sea, for survivors from such vessels are very few in number. Of those lost ships whose fates are known, the vast majority were travelling in convoy - their loss thus witnessed by the crews of their companions, and few of these ever report attacks by ratto uomo. Yet, there are those who say that this in itself is evidence, for the ratmen are renowned as bullies and cowards, and as such prefer to prey upon weak and lonely prizes, the better to ensure their own survival and success.

One particular curiosity concerning the ratto uomo’s sea-going activities is their reputed use of sub-marine vessels. No such vessel has ever been captured intact, but they have been, through the centuries, reported and have even been known to ram ships. Whether or not these vessels are similarly propelled by turning screws or by oars none can say for certain, although in IC 2286 the Viadazan Maestro Romolo Auriemma, apparently inspired by the recovered wreckage of part of such a vessel, drew up plans for a sub-marine vessel in which the oars were made watertight by protruding through leather-sealed ports.

(https://i.imgur.com/4dTJnTJ.jpg)

It seems that he constructed said vessel but that nothing is known of his trails, not even whether his efforts were in any way successful. His rather dense treatise discusses many practical issues, concerning how to let out or receive of anything without the admission of water? How to propel and direct without the usual advantages of wind & tides, or the sight of the heavens? How to supply air for respiration? How to keep fires lit for light & cooking? As well as some rather obscure scribblings which seem to detail the leather seals and what appears to be fin-ended oars able to contract and dilate as required for either pressing upon or passing through the water. The last of his pages shows a weight suspended beneath to enable falling and rising.

How similar the vessel Maestro Romolo designed and constructed was to the kind employed by the ratto uomo is, however, a matter of pure speculation.

Concerning the Underpasses

In the great library of the Palazio Endrezzi, I discovered the texts your scholarly adviser Stoldo Schiavone remembered perusing during his youthful studies. One of the volumes was missing, but fortunately the volume with a chapter considering the ratto uomo’s underground movements during the great war nearly two centuries ago was present and I scoured it for anything of possible importance. This I have transcribed here almost exactly as the original.

Excerpts from Anichino Didonato’s IC 2361 treatise about the Ratto Uomo Wars of IC 2212-15, Volume 2, Chapter 6: Concerning Caverns, Sewers and the Great Underpasses

By the Summer of the year IC 2213 it had become generally known that the great swarm-armies of ratmen were emerging not merely from the ancient city sewers, as did their emissaries, assassins and spies so frequently during the past two, murderous decades, nor were they simply camped in cavernous holds before their assaults, or marching by night to hide in ruinous places and wastelands and swamps, but that they were issuing from the mouths of great underpasses, being tunnels of enormous proportions stretching for many leagues beneath almost the entire length and breadth of Tilea.

In early Autumn 2213 the army of the ‘Third Reman Pact’ fought at the mouth of the tunnel to the east of Remas, and also at an exit near Ebino, but in both cases, despite overwhelming the enemy forces in the vicinity of the mouth, could not penetrate deep into the tunnels without the loss of a great many soldiers. Such a sacrifice was considered a price not worth paying, for should the ratto uomo send another army through the tunnel, then whatever costly victories had been achieved would prove futile. The mouth of the tunnel near Remas was collapsed with the use of black powder, but that action also proved of limited consequence, for the enemy simply carved another portal further back along the tunnel, upon the eastern side of the River Remo. At least it allowed a defence to be made at Stiani, where the Pact’s forces were massed and the great Battle of Stiani was fought in the summer of 2214 in which a mighty horde of ratto uomo was defeated and scattered, their wicked engines destroyed and mountainous piles of their corpses burned. See Chapter 8 for a full account of this battle.

The underpasses were not what one might commonly imagine, akin to brick-built sewers, nor even ancient, twisting, irregular caverns, accessed one to another by squeezing through skewed crevices and cracks. Instead they were wide enough for an army to march in column of ranks and files.

The following excerpt is taken from Chapter 2, ‘Concerning the Enemy’s Armies

The ratto uomo fielded horde-legions with triple the numbers of the Tilean armies they faced. These were divided into regularly sized, regimented bodies scuttle-marching in strict rank and files. Each such body was commanded by a chieftain, accompanied by a bodyguard-lieutenant, several musicians bearing shrill instruments and the bearer of a ragged banner.

(https://i.imgur.com/q2yblvb.jpg)

Most commonly they carried long bladed spears and round, iron-rimmed shields, being clothed in dirty rags with scrap-plates of iron armour on their upper bodies and arms.

(https://i.imgur.com/W94AJWl.jpg)

Their natural proclivity to swarm, as might their tiny brethren when threatened by some cataclysmic event such as a flood or wildfire, meant that they had an uncanny agility, even when packed tightly in ranks and files of the closest order. They marched this way also, as closely dressed as a body of Tilean soldiers might be only in the moments before engaging a foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/1SMXOJD.jpg)

Here Chapter 6 continues:

The great underpasses, and the mouths they served, were high enough to allow the passage of engines of war of considerable size. Some engines were propelled by strange mechanisms, in which sulphurous steam was created by shards of burning sky-stone to turn gears and consequently the wheels, as might river waters turn a mill wheel. Such was the unreliability of these engines, and the ever-present danger that they might self-combust or even explode, that they were most commonly moved upon the march by slaves. Both their own ratto uomo, and their larger brute cousins, were employed as such beasts of burden, often together, so that while the smaller slaves where whipped to perform most of the labour, the brutes would be required to lend a more mighty hand as occasion demanded, such as when stuck in a rut, struggling through mud or upon an upward slope.

(https://i.imgur.com/LsjBPxC.jpg)

When transported through the tunnels, it seems that the engines were invariably removed from the main body of the army, most likely due to the relative slowness of their lumbering progress and perhaps also a reluctance to manoeuvre such unstable burdens in close proximity to the army’s massed soldiers. Any sudden detonation would surely have sent a wave of fire washing along the tunnels, capable of immolating many hundreds among the huddled hordes if it were to reach them before its heat was sufficiently dissipated.

(https://i.imgur.com/PoLCtRa.jpg)

Each engine, its slaves and matrosses, was governed by an engineer whose understanding was sufficient to coax his ward into destructive power as and when required. They often carried a shard of the precious sky-stone themselves, mounted upon a haft of iron, the function of which was unknown, but has been variously speculated to be either like unto a key with which to breathe life into the engine, or a stinging staff with which to berate and bully their underlings, or perhaps merely a badge to signal their own importance and professed mastery of the mystery of said stone?

(https://i.imgur.com/SAlnEJA.jpg)

How the underpasses were constructed is unknown for certain. What parts near unto the mouths were inspected closely by miners showed some scattered signs of chiselling, more frequently a swirling form of scraping, while other stretches seemed to have been scorched, the rock surface part-melted or glazed. Knowing the ratto uomo’s predilection to employ mighty machines in battle, as well as vast throngs of slaves of their own kind, then it was supposed that either one, or indeed both of these methods, were employed to hew through the rock. It is presumed the passages linked to natural underground fissures, for where else could the vast quantity of debris created by their mining, howsoever it was done, be put? Some scholars suggested that it were possible that the rocks were carried away by slaves, and indeed there are ancient tales, many hundreds of years old, of entirely new hills appearing in the far northern region of Albu (although the stories claim, among other things, that they were made as cairns for the eternal repose of giants or even that monstrous moles dwelling a thousand fathoms beneath the ground had thrown them up over-night when they came aloft to breath sufficient air to sustain them for another millennia).

The ground of the underpasses was like unto a beach, part-pebbled, part-sand, which in itself gave several miners cause to wonder at how exactly it had come to be so. It was suggested that perhaps the ground was a by-product of the pulverising of the rock, or some sort of burning?

The tunnel mouths aforementioned were almost certainly extensions of the same underpass, stretching from Ebino then under the River Tarano just before the River Bellagio branched off, then beneath the River Trantino north-west of Scorcio, then beneath the mouth of the River Remo itself then corkscrewing up to exit through a sea facing wall of rock, thus requiring a ramp to be made from the debris which poured from the mouth. How the whole was ventilated was never properly discovered, and it could only be speculated that there were some form of ventilation shafts, perhaps guarded by iron grills or the like, with apertures cunningly concealed from the upper world.

Continued below ...
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 09, 2019, 04:00:10 PM
Migliore's Letter Continued

Chapter 6, Part 2: Concerning the Collapsing of the Underpasses

Having had such limited success in collapsing the tunnel mouths, the renowned maestro Abramo Ruggiere of Urbimo was tasked with discovering a way to destroy the underpasses. He was chosen because of his successful engagements in great architectural works such as redirecting the Via Aurelia to avoid the flood plains west of Astiano and damning the River Riatti near Terenne to create an artificial lake, and his proven expertise in the construction of great helical grooved shafts screws with which to lift and direct water. He proposed re-directing an artificial offshoot of the River Remo to permanently flood a long section of the underpass, but to employ a different method involving fiery conjurations and gunpowder to collapse the tunnel in the western reaches of Usola, south-east of Ebino, so that if either method proved unsuccessful then the other might make up for the deficiency, and also should the ratto uomo discover the operation before it was completed and devise some method to thwart it, then the same method could not be applied to the other stretch.

Other city states, including Miragliano, Trantio and Astiano, were expected to assume the responsibility of collapsing or otherwise preventing the use any tunnels in their own proximity, and it is possible, if not likely, that several different methods were employed for these works.

Both maestro Abramo’s proposed methods proved effective. At torrent of water drawn from the Remo was poured through a large, carved hole into the underpass and flowed freely for several days until it began to spill out from the hole, presumably because the enemy had collapsed the tunnel themselves at a removed point in order to block the water’s further onrush. At that point, as had been planned, the maestro ordered the damning of the Remo’s outflow so that the river might resume its course. Subsequently a smaller channel was dug to ensure that the waters within the underpass would be replenished continually, thus replacing any lost due to flooding through underground fissures, whether natural or unnatural.

To the north, near Ebino, several fire wizards were employed to conjure a magically induced wave of flame to wash along the underpass, where large quantities of blackpowder, both barrels and grenadoes (the latter jammed into fissures in the rock walls) had already been placed at both frequent and regular intervals. It was presumed that each blast would add to the wave of flame as it flowed, so that as the ethereally derived power of the heat dwindled, the fury of the mundane flames would increase in inverse proportion.

Thus it was that the course of the war was changed considerably, for subsequently the enemy had to rely upon overland marches and the seas, and was much less able to conceal the disposition of their forces.

I have copied here, as best my limited ability allows, the little map included in the chapter:

(https://i.imgur.com/b7SNlmx.jpg)

Here the chapter ended. The remainder of the book concentrated upon the history of the Third Reman Pact and of the war itself, mainly concerning the politics and rulers of the various Tilean states involved in the war, as well as a veritable cornucopia of stories concerning the nobility, some important and others insignificant, but of very little consequence to our world two centuries later.



As you yourself wisely suggested, I myself discussed my findings, as well as that I had learned from both the sailors and Anichino Didonato’s other volumes, with the maestro Angelo da Leoni. He allowed me to visit him in his workshop, where he was surrounded by books, papers, schemas and strange artefacts, the like of some of which I had never seen before. A large, spherical, globe of strangely-hued metal gave off occasional stuttering clicks throughout our meeting, but neither the maestro nor his gnomish assistant paid it any attention.

(https://i.imgur.com/2rJ9936.jpg)

He clearly found my account fascinating and was prompted to wax both lyrically and generously in sharing his own thoughts. He seemed most intrigued by the possibility that the ratmen’s tunnelling engines, if they did indeed employ heat to burn the subterraneous rock - as the evidence of scorching suggested - might be, in form, rather like his own engine which he gifted to the Disciplinati di Morr for their march into the north. That consisted, he told me, of lenses both dioptrical and catoptrical, some of pure glass and others of glass admixed with powdered sky-stone, being employed to separate, then concentrate a conjoining of light both etheric and mundane, vastly increasing the heat thereby manifested. Such an apparatus, especially if the source of ethereal light were not the far-away sun but a shard of pure sky-stone, of a size and form that would most likely bake the very flesh of anyone standing close enough to work the device, might indeed produce a shaft of such brilliant intensity as to burn away the rock or at the least make it (to a depth of several feet) so brittle in consistency that simply scraping at it would subsequently cause it to crumble it away.

Yet he foresaw innumerate difficulties and dangers inherent in the employment of such an apparatus, not least the great cloud of poisonous fumes that he believed would be produced. Here he showed me several strange masks, hoods and sleeved cloaks he had fashioned, kept in a wardrobe in his workshop, intended to be worn at times of plague or when foul and foetid fumes tainted the air, and spoke of the possibility that similar garments might be employed to permit workers to labour at least for some time before succumbing to the noxious vapours. Yet, still he checked himself, for he now declared such a sudden boiling, even of only that constituent part of rock that gifted the quality of hardness, and its almost instantaneous transformation into vapour,  would of necessity cause a great and violent on-rush of air, at most explosive and at the least like unto the strongest of gales. This would be forced unstoppably through the great tunnel to be released and diminished only wherever vents pierced the roof to reach the upper world, which surely there must have been. Indeed, he proposed that such vents, placed at regular intervals, would have had different purposes over time, from allowing air to circulate sufficiently to make work in the tunnels just possible, then later allowing the necessary escape of the bursting, noxious vapours. Perhaps some of these vents, the suggested, if only those most suitably placed, were then later transformed into the concealed ventilation shafts intended to serve the tunnel permanently?

Before I left, and as a most gracious gesture to show his respect for you my lord, he instructed his gnomish clerk to take a copy of a paper of consequence, that might better inform natural philosophers and engineers of at least the basic principles of his burning apparatus, if not the full and complicated practicalities of its construction, which were more explored in the making and calibration of the apparatus than in any schema or drawn design beforehand. I enclose said page here.

(https://i.imgur.com/PrziKjB.jpg)

I remain, as always and forever more, your most humble servant, for you are great Morr’s most blessed and my heart only knows love for him and those who serve him truly.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 11, 2019, 10:17:19 AM
Was that an 'interesting', perhaps even 'fun', essay? If not, tell me why and I will try to change how I go about these things? More pictures? Less archaic and fancy words? Hmm?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 11, 2019, 01:02:38 PM
Not time to read your most recent story bit, but will when there's a free moment, thanks!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 11, 2019, 01:05:17 PM
Thanks GP.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on October 11, 2019, 01:39:22 PM
Thanks GP.

Sorry padre.  Actually read the one before and looking forward to the next. Little time and used to cover my manic view of politics lol.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on October 11, 2019, 07:12:49 PM
Fantastic addition to the story. It fleshes out your Tilean lore and also firmly establishes the Skaven as important denizens of Tilea, and whose machinations are intertwined with the politics history therein!

Awesome photos, too!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 12, 2019, 02:52:18 AM
An enjoyable read.

In the immortal words of the famous Tilean astronomer, historian, and mercenary prince, Ostio Ustanzo, "I don't think it matters how it has been told. The mere thought of ratmen infested tunnels being flooded or burned to push the vicious creatures to the upper world for ease of their destruction, nothing more needs be said than what has been written."

 :icon_mrgreen: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on October 12, 2019, 10:32:33 AM
Slowly catching up. Poor Luccans, poor halfling archers. This is a sad day for Tilea.

-Z
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Cèsar de Quart on October 13, 2019, 06:36:07 PM
I thoroughly enjoyed this. Lively scenes and the pictures are the right cherry for the cake!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on October 14, 2019, 01:52:42 PM
Finally caught up. Awesome as usual Padre. I like the depth of your ‘essays’ and no need to change the tone. Seems there are more to these rat men than some would like to talk about. What say you GP?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 14, 2019, 02:13:24 PM
When in Tilea, do as Tileans do. :icon_wink:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 18, 2019, 06:00:49 PM
Or, GP, as Sartosans do! The next piece ...
______________________________________________

An excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s work: “The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century”

Autumn, 2403

Despite the hopes raised by the crushing victories achieved in the realm of Trantio, first at the necropolis valley of Norochia and then further north in the Trantine hills, as well as the news of the ogre tyrant Razger Bouldergut’s departure through the mountainous pass of the Via Nano into the Border Princes, the entire peninsula of Tilea remained wracked by war or the imminent threat of war. Great armies were on the move, alliance-forces combined and divided in response to this particular threat and that, and old enmities and hatreds continued, as ever, to interfere with the greater need.

The army of the VMC had marched all the way from Alcente upon the southern-most tip of the peninsula to Pavona. Its general, Jan Valckenburgh, was intending to join with the Lord Alessio’s mighty army to drive the vampires once and for all to their destruction but had instead become distracted by the reported treachery of the ruler of Pavona, Duke Guidobaldo Gondi.

The Pavonan duke had claimed in a public letter that a force of VMC soldiers, disguised as Lord Alessio’s Portomaggiorans, had attacked the realm of Verezzo, killing the philosopher Lord Lucca Vescussi and plundering the region known as Spomanti. General Valckenburgh, who had interrogated a band of Verezzan rogues fleeing the troubles in their realm,  declared Duke Guidobaldo’s words to be lies, claiming instead that it was Duke Guidobaldo’s own Pavonan soldiers, disguised as Portomaggiorans, who had performed the foul deed, spurred by a greed for plunder now that their own realm was so weakened by the depredations of Bouldergut’s brute ogres, and also in order to distract and damage all the realms around them, so that Pavona might not appear so weak in comparison.

Many argued over the truth of the matter. Some said that the Pavonan duke was guilty and had made the false claim simply to hide the fact that he himself was responsible for the raid and murder, cleverly befuddling the picture so that if people learned that the Portomaggiorans were not to blame, he could respond with another lie on top of the original deception. Others said that the VMC was responsible, being dishonourable plunderers by their very nature, and had used the lie as an excuse to go on from plundering Verezzo to plunder Pavona also, all the while claiming to be entirely innocent, instead simply responding appropriately to Duke Guidobaldo’s outrageous defamation and hoping to find proof of his foul deeds to restore their honourable reputation!

Whatever the truth, the army of the VMC now drew close enough to lay siege to the ancient, mightily walled city of Pavona, wherein was garrisoned the last of the Pavonan armies. The young Lord Silvano, who had fought so bravely in the war against the vampires (at Viadaza, Ebino and Trantio) had only recently arrived home, given leave to depart from the grand alliance army after the victory in Norochia, where his men had not even needed to unsheathe their swords.

(https://i.imgur.com/4l9qXCN.jpg)

Lord Silvano’s father Duke Guidobaldo also returned, having travelled from Verezzo where he had offered sanctuary to all the citizens, promising them homes, livelihoods and protection in his own realm. Learning of the VMC army’s approach to his city, however, he could not tarry to escort those who accepted his offer, but raced back to his own city, arriving in the nick of time, only  matter of hours before the army of the VMC drew themselves up to within handgun shot of the city walls, in preparation to lay siege. He was greeted by his son, but any happiness that they might have felt at being reunited was surely dwarfed by their concerns regarding the forthcoming struggle.

(https://i.imgur.com/JBE46Hh.jpg)

The VMC had marched north to share the burden of the terrible war against the vampires and brutes. Instead they had now embarked upon a war of honour against one of the oldest Tilean city-states, despite the vampire Duchess Maria’s complete destruction of the army of the Dedicati di Morr at Ebino, and the landing of an army of Sartosan pirates upon the coast at Luccini.

It is to the latter event that I shall next turn. King Ferronso of Luccini had taken leave of the grand alliance army at Trantio as soon as he received reports of the Sartosan threat to the coastal realms. He did not do so lightly, and indeed left a significant portion of his small army’s strength with the alliance force, under the command of the condottiere General Marsilio da Fermo. The army’s council of war agreed that they had more than adequate strength to defeat the enemy’s army in Trantio, and so it would be unfair to demand that the young king remained with them when his realm faced such troubles. But the journey home was long, and although the king rode as fast as he possibly could, accompanied by his guard of noble men-at-arms, he arrived too late to defend his realm. The Sartosans had landed in great strength, utterly overwhelmed the city of Luccini itself, plundered it thoroughly, and then moved on to take all they could from Aversa to the east. Thus it was that the young king could only watch, more spy than warrior hero, as his realm was ravaged by an enemy far too strong for him to face.



All is Lost! Is All Lost?

They had left their mounts hidden deep in the woods, with the rest of the company, then the three of them, cautiously, if a little clumsily due to their armour, picked their way to the trees’ edge. Although he had already been informed of what was happening in Aversa, the young King Ferronso insisted on seeing with his own eyes, and his companions, for several reasons - not least that he was their king - chose not to argue. Signore Pierozzo went a little way ahead of the king and Barone Vettorio, stopping to beckon them on only when he had made sure it was safe to do so.

Before they reached the boundary, they could hear the enemy, some laughing, others shouting. Pierozzo insisted he go ahead alone to assess the situation. He returned a little while later and led them to a spot he had discovered from where the town could be seen, but where the trees and bushes where thick enough to provide concealment. There they halted and watched a while in silence, until, as was proper, the king chose to speak.

“All is lost,” he said, dejectedly. “If only we’d got here quicker. If only I’d left the Portomaggiorans sooner.”

(https://i.imgur.com/fgEcCe6.jpg)

“Your highness, you bear no blame,” said the barone. “We came as soon as we heard, and none but the gods could ride faster, not in armour at least.”

“Then we should have left our armour and used faster mounts. And we should never have stopped for sleep.

“Then we would have arrived ill-equipped in every way to thwart such a numerous foe.”

“We are ill equipped, Vettorio! Why did I leave so many soldiers in Lord Alessio’s service? Why did I not bring them back with me?”

“Sire, you were honour bound,” said the barone. “The vampires were yet to be faced in battle, and to refuse to lend any aid to such a design would be wrong in the gods’ eyes.” 

“Aye, your highness, you did only what was right,” added Pierozzo. “Besides, the pike and guns would have slowed us to less than half the pace and still made us no more able to defeat such a numerous foe.” 

“But it is a king’s duty to protect his realm. First and foremost. In that I’ve failed.”

“You strove to do exactly that, sire, against the brutes who had torn realm after realm apart, and against the restless dead who threatened far worse,” argued the barone. He gestured at the men before them, “These Sartosans bear all the blame for this deed. Not only are they thieves and murderers, but cowardly opportunists for choosing to strike just when we were engaged elsewhere upon a rightful and necessary war. They too will stand before Morr in the end, and he will scorn them.”

“If it is capable for men to be worse even than vampires,” said Signore Pierozzo, “then these men are so.”

King Ferronso squinted as he watched the activity between the trees and the town, where several bodies of men were engaged upon drill practice.

(https://i.imgur.com/zSzbpQG.jpg)

“All is lost,” he repeated. This time his companions said nothing. He sniffed, then turned to the barone. “Vettorio, is all lost?”

“This is bad, sire. But not as bad as it could be. These men have plundered and raped your people, most likely stolen the strongest to sell as slaves. But they won’t eat them as the brutes would have done, nor will they kill them and turn their corpses into foul servants as would the vampires.”

These words did not seem to reassure the king at all. He merely winced at the hearing of them.
“Nor will they stay, your highness,” the barone quickly added. “Sartosans do not conquer, but rather they steal what they can, and then move on.”

“So, when they choose to go, I can return to whatever ruins they leave behind them?” said the king. “Weeping women and frightened children? Not a scrap of gold to pay my debts, nor wine to drink, nor even beef or mutton to eat?”

“The realm will heal, sire, given time.”

“Yes, I suppose it will,” said Ferronso, somewhat dismissively. “I am still king.”

His two companions fell silent, at a loss as to what to say to such a child-like remark.

“They have pikes,” the king announced, unexpectedly. “I never knew pirates to be pikemen.”

“Aye, sire,” said Signore Pierozzo. “Those are our pikes.”

“Ours?”

“The town militia’s. They must have taken them from the arsenal. Maybe they feared we might return, and well-mounted?”

“If they did then they expected more of us,” said the king dejectedly.

The three of them then watched the enemy a while. The Sartosans had divided themselves into little companies, all the better to practise with the pikes. Each little body had a commander, no doubt a fellow who was experienced in the handling of a pike, to guide them through their postures, and ensure they could do so as one. Some were busy at the charge, although unusually they did not hold the pikes at their necks but thrust them from their waists like spears.

(https://i.imgur.com/ON7Y7F9.jpg)

This struck the barone as odd, for it was not the Tilean way. Perhaps the fellow in charge was from some far away realm where such a drill was employed? Others stood at order and watched, while a heavily bearded northerner in a huge green coat and an orange scarf, a Marienburger most likely, tested the strength of the hold of one of their number.

(https://i.imgur.com/We6sj65.jpg)

Still others came up as if just about to join in the practise …

(https://i.imgur.com/lmFsV12.jpg)

… while one tardy fellow stood by a stand of pikes leaning against a building, trying each one as if deciding which was best.

(https://i.imgur.com/Ca6qBs6.jpg)

“There don’t seem to be that many of them,” said the king.

His companions, somewhat judiciously, and knowing the young king well, said nothing.

“But then I suppose these are just some of them,” the king added after a while.

“There are indeed many more, Sire,” said Pierozzo. “Here, in the city and across your realm. They have a great number of handgunners, batteries of cannons and swivel guns.”

’What’ guns?” asked the king.

 “Small pieces of artillery, such as are mounted upon stanchions on ships’ gunwales. Neither handgun nor cannon, but somewhere in between.”

“Yes,” said the king, sounding impatient. “I know those.”

 Pierozzo nodded, then continued, “There are dwarfs amongst them, even greenskins …”
The king scowled at this comment, which made Pierozzo stop.

“Go on,” said the king. “What else?”

“And regiments of fighters festooned in weapons of every kind.”

“No armour though?”

“None, sire. I think they fear the consequences should they fall into the sea.”
 
The young king thought about this for a moment. Then he pointed towards three pikeless men who were watching the rest.

(https://i.imgur.com/hnfu7yn.jpg)

“Who are they?” he asked.

“I cannot say, sire. Captains, perhaps? At least one of them.”

“The one in the black coat, I’ll bet,” said the king. “That one by his side in the robes, he’s a wizard, surely?”

“Most likely, sire. And the other one, some other officer, like a first mate or a Bo’s’un or such like.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ZFFcSsq.jpg)

“Would it not be for the best, sire, that we leave now, before someone spies us?” asked the barone. The king did not answer, but just turned and began strolling away. His companions joined him.

“I will not wait until I can creep home, skulking in the shadows in the meantime,” announced the king. “These Sartosans must be punished. What they’ve taken must be retrieved. My people need to know I am a vengeful king, and others must learn what happens to those who offend me.”

“Of course, sire,” said Barone Vettorio, glancing briefly at Pierozzo.

“So, how exactly do I do what must be done?” asked the king.



Next we will return to Bonacorso Fidelibus’s Historical work
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 21, 2019, 09:38:07 PM
Another excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s work: “The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century”

Autumn, 2403 continued

In the central parts of the peninsula, war had wracked the realms as would a violent storm or a great wave washing back and forth repeatedly, wrecking all in its path with each passage. The city of Trantio, ravaged by the War of the Princes, wasted by the plundering progress of Boulderguts’ brutes, then polluted when possessed by the putrid army of the Church of Nagash, had now been captured by the Grand Alliance army commanded by Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore. Having driven the undead force from the field of battle in the Valley of Norochia, then decimated the rest of the army as it fled north, a large portion of Lord Alessio’s great army had been forced to tarry some time, due to the need to cleanse the realm of corruption. Just as had happened twice at Viadaza, there were thousands of corpses to be destroyed, so that the evil that had animated them might be prevented from doing so again. Great pits were dug for the burning of the corpses in the necropolis valley, then the land was re-consecrated, while every corner of every building, street and alley in the city was scoured for now dead undead. Bones both bloody and dry were piled upon carts, most of which were taken to the valley for burning, but some were burned in lesser gardens of Morr within the city precincts. Here a severed limb still twitched, there a lipless jaw snapped shut, while many a rotting hand clutched and grabbed, as the evil curse that had once gripped the city lingered. Priests accompanied all the labourers and soldiers as they went about their horrible work, praying incessantly to ensure that the dead remained dead until they could be turned to ash.

(https://i.imgur.com/ddWFF9B.jpg)

Lord Alessio led the rest of the army, by far the biggest contingent, north, moving as rapidly as possible in the hope of catching what small fraction of the enemy had escaped his army. By the time he reached the ruins of the walled town of Scorcio, however, he had come to accept he could not hope to catch the foe, for the enemy’s tireless legs made him quick. Furthermore, both Scorcio and Preto had been as badly tainted as the city of Trantio, and to leave them unremedied would have been dangerously reckless. And so the great army’s advance was temporarily prevented by the necessities arising from its already achieved successes and progresses. 

The last of the enemy, reduced to a mob of once-dedicant zombies, who even in undeath remained frantic and strange in their motions, as well as a company of more ancient, osseous warriors, were commanded by one of the duchess’s favoured servants, her archpriest Biagino. Once he served Morr, gifted by visions and so driven by inspired purpose to be one of the leading agents in the raising of the god’s holy armies, but now, since his capture, he had become a twisted mockery of his once-living self. Running night and day without halt, taking the most barren and inaccessible route to make pursuit all the harder for any who attempted to do so, he led the last remnant of his army back towards his beloved lady.

(https://i.imgur.com/mO2YlEk.png)

Some powerful and wicked sense, a gift of his cursed affliction, directed him towards Ebino, where the Duchess Maria was. She had utterly overwhelmed the army of Morrite dedicants who had marched to face her, killing them to a man. Their bodies lay thickly about the earthwork defences they had fashioned for their camp, along with the cooling corpses of dishonoured Reman palazzio guard (sent to serve Father Carradalio a consequence of their inaction during the Discplinati’s seizure of Remas).

(https://i.imgur.com/XowdPdf.jpg)

While a living commander would have been faced with the inconvenience of clouds of fat flies and the overpowering stench of a thousand corpses requiring burial, she and her necromantic servant Safiro saw only an opportunity to increase the fighting strength of her army. For hours and hours, perhaps days, she and foul Safiro conjured dark, magical energies to coalesce within and animate the corpses …

(https://i.imgur.com/MRcs9kf.jpg)


… so that one by one, the once-holy army of the Disciplinati di Morr and the Reman guardsmen struggled to their feet, then staggered, ungainly, away from the defences …

(https://i.imgur.com/kXDp8JX.jpg)

…  to muster themselves awkwardly outside, there to await the duchess’s further command.

Perhaps the unnatural strength and agility possessed by so many vampires allowed (that which was once) Maria to stroll easily, even regally through the carnage of battle …

(https://i.imgur.com/BNjAet8.jpg)

… to beckon up the dead with a calmly sinister gracefulness? Whatever the truth, the ultimate fate of blessèd Father Carradalio’s Disciplinati di Morr, in horribly direct opposition to their most earnestly, painfully determined goal, was merely to swell the stinking ranks of the duchess’s Ebinan army. Round and round the horror churned, as now yet again another army would have to face the foe in battle, to kill that which was already dead.

(https://i.imgur.com/lV1l1p2.jpg)

In Campogrotta there was a new ruler - or at least a ruler-in-waiting, serving an apprenticeship of sorts before obtaining sole possession - for King Jaldeog of Karak Borgo had gifted the entire realm, in a sorry state indeed after the harsh rule of the ogres, to the condottiere commander of the Compagnia del Sole, Captain Bruno Mazallini. This was done in part as payment of debts, for the king had hired the company to assist in his war against Boulderguts’ lieutenants, but then won the war before the mercenaries arrived. But mostly it was done because it was the quickest and easiest way to bring about the return of the realm back to health and security. There were contractual clauses to abide by, of course (such is the way of dwarfs), and a good number of King Jaldeog’s bearded servants yet remained in the city as friendly advisers. Within only weeks life in the city was beginning to return to normality.

Yet other hirelings, the Bretonnian Brabanzon, were marching north, with their fiery new commander, the Lady Perrette, as well as the still-sickly Baron Garoy and a strong contingent of Karak Borgo warriors, making their way to the realm of Ravola there to drive out the last of the brute-bullies Razger Boulderguts had left behind when he embarked upon his bloody chevauchee into the heart of Tilea.

In the city the Bretonnians had so recently departed, the taverns were once again filled with men and dwarfs, clattering tankards and puffing upon pipes, as they forgot their troubles and discussed the opportunities ahead of them.

(https://i.imgur.com/QCVa2jw.jpg)

But for many a week and more it was only those who came from outside the city who could feel any sort of true happiness. Those who had been in the city during its occupation, much reduced in number and to a person grieving the loss of neighbours, friends and family, wore haunted looks upon their faces and struggled to find words for even the most mundane moments. Perhaps some part of them sensed that the apparent return to their old, familiar way of life was transitory? That the future held new horrors sufficient and more to rival those of the past?

For unknown to almost everyone, sly and sinister agents already inhabited the shadows of the darkest hours, creeping surreptitiously through the streets, hither and thither …

(https://i.imgur.com/Akn8BZ9.jpg)

… some to watch, others to whisper; for the hour of their coming, for which they had long prepared with complex machinations and conspiracies so deep as to be unfathomable, was at hand.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 25, 2019, 08:39:55 AM
This little story was put together by the player who commands Portomaggiore (who else, as the story involves a conversation between his own PC, Lord Alessio Falconi, and his closest adviser). Damo_b on this forum. It was then re-written by me to better fit the campaign's writing 'style'. Lots was swapped around, but nothing much was changed in terms of what the characters said. I did change a bullet hole in a map into a knife, but that was for the picture's sake ... after all, who would even have been able to see a minuscule, pin-prick bullet hole in a map 1 cm by 1.5 cm?

The story ...

A TENT IN THE MIDDLE OF WAR
Somewhere in the realm of Trantio, at the end of Autumn 2403

Lord Alessio was glad he was alone. The flash of fury that had just driven him to thrust his knife into the table was not something he would wish his servants and officers to see.  He had a reputation for calmness and self-control to maintain. Still, he thought, he need not beat himself up about his impetuousness, for the news he had received would drive even the most meditative of monks to distraction. If his weakness was nothing more than the mere momentary desire to stick a knife into a map, then it truly paled into insignificance when compared to the weakness of the man whose actions had instigated his action - Duke Guidobaldo.

As his anger subsided, which it quickly did, he looked at the knife and chuckled. It had struck the map exactly where he intended, obliterating the inked name of Pavona in the process.

Movement at the entrance of the tent caught his eye, and he looked up to see Lord Black leaning into the tent.

“My Lord,” said his visitor. “May I?”

Alessio gestured to his friend to enter. As Lord Black strode in he looked immediately at the knife.

“I see you’ve heard the news,” he said, apparently understanding immediately what had just happened. “It never rains but it pours, eh? First the Sartosans sap us of the Luccinans, and now the soldiers of the VMC have become somewhat distracted by war against the Pavonans.”

“We are attempting to fight a war to save all of Tilea, Ned,” said Alessio, “against the enemy of life itself. And what does every other Tilean ruler do to help?”

“They set about attacking each other?”

“Of course! What else?”

Ned leaned upon his scabbarded sword and looked at the map. “Well, at least they’re all willing to fight,” he said.

Alessio gave a pained chuckle.

“So, what do we do?” asked Ned.

(https://i.imgur.com/YKwO01N.jpg)

Alessio pondered a moment, then spoke, “As I see it, we have three options. We could march to Pavona in an attempt to convince the VMC not to sack the city, then deal with the duke.”

“So, you don’t believe his claim that the VMC murdered Lord Lucca?”

Alessio just rolled his eyes, then continued, “Or we could leave them both to their misery and return home. Whichever squabbling fools survive will have to face the duchess themselves.”

“Aye, and if they then lose for want of sufficient strength, we will end up fighting their walking corpses when the duchess makes them her own.”

“Which leads me to the third option,” said Alessio. “We can press on with the forces we have at our disposal regardless, to try our luck against the duchess despite our lack of allies.”

“Several have tried that before without much success. Do you think the army she commands is as strong as that we defeated in Norochia?”

“If she wiped out an entire horde of fanatical Morrites at Ebino, then she’s not lacking in strength.  I had thought of sending word to the mountain dwarves and the Compagnia del Sole to request that they dispatch a force to join us, but I’ve a feeling they’re still too distracted by the recapture of Campogrotta and the need to deal with the ogres remaining in Ravola. And now that Verezzo has been so badly wounded we can hardly expect their payments to continue, which makes simply feeding our army more difficult. I like and respect his son, as you know, but Duke Guidobaldo picked a terrible time to pull one of his bloody tricks. One would hope the VMC had been here long enough to realise that revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“Can we not put the spending at home on hold a while?” asked Ned. “Do we need a new harbour right now? Cannot Hakim wait a little longer for his lighthouse to be completed? And in light of the threat, even the Ravernans might be willing to show patience over the pace of the works in their realm.”

“We could save gold at home, yes” agreed Alessio, “but if the Sartosans move north then that gold will be needed at home.”

“So, which is it going to be?” asked Ned.

Alessio prized the knife from the map and pushed the torn edges where Pavona used to be flat again.

“That’s the question,” said Alessio.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 25, 2019, 11:54:29 AM
Those last three posts were excellent!  Anyone not reading this is missing out on some serious creativity. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::

Enjoyed the history lead in, the sartosan pirates training, the raising of the dead, and Alessio trying to determine what to do next.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: KTG17 on November 08, 2019, 01:27:53 PM
Padre where are you getting all of these figures from? Some I recognize as GW, but others I have no idea. Unless they are really old school GW.

Have you done any battle reports?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on November 08, 2019, 01:42:59 PM
Battle Reports? There are some all over this thread.  :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: KTG17 on November 08, 2019, 02:20:24 PM
Oh yes I see. I didn't go through all 21 pages!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on November 08, 2019, 02:22:29 PM
It is very much a worthwhile read!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 08, 2019, 05:10:47 PM
Padre where are you getting all of these figures from? Some I recognize as GW, but others I have no idea. Unless they are really old school GW.

Have you done any battle reports?

As GamesPoet has already mentioned there are a LOT of bat reps already in this thread. Must be 20 at least?

The figures are from a vast array of manufacturers. I will put those who spring to mind here ...

Warlord Games, Wargames Foundry, Black Tree Designs, Perry Miniatures, Artizan, Mantic Games, Midlam, Casting Room Miniatures, Frostgrave/Northstar Military Figures, Essex Miniatures, Reaper, Grendel, Ral Partha, Westwind ... etc.

It is very much a worthwhile read!
Thanks GP!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on November 08, 2019, 05:49:00 PM
At some point, I hope to reread it.  Suspect the perspective will be a bit different the next time around, and the view of the characters and relationships could change.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 08, 2019, 06:22:56 PM
GP, I should have said - Photobucket destroyed the photos of the first half of this thread, so if you do re-read go to www.bigsmallworlds.com to see the earlier story with repaired pictures. (This is the website I set up when Photobucket messed me and many others about.)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on November 08, 2019, 07:47:58 PM
GP, I should have said - Photobucket destroyed the photos of the first half of this thread, so if you do re-read go to www.bigsmallworlds.com to see the earlier story with repaired pictures. (This is the website I set up when Photobucket messed me and many others about.)

This bigsmallworlds link is incredible. I hit the link awhile back by an error and this amazing site popped up. Got stuck there awhile just gazing. 😸
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 08, 2019, 09:05:23 PM
Thanks for saying Artobahn.

Funnily enough I was just checking the BigSmallWorlds site myself and I noticed an entire massive battle report and prequel were missing.  So now there is an extra bit between parts 19 and 20, called Part 19.2.

I will have to go through with a fine tooth comb and see if anything else has gone astray. I know what has happened. When I lift from the Blog posts to create the web page version, for some reason as I go back and forth, Blog posts disappear, and so if I am not very careful, refreshing the page from the start, I miss parts out! Like the whole four blog posts on the First Assault on Campogrotta (which are now 19.2) !!!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on November 08, 2019, 09:13:14 PM
I haven't checked out that site in a good bit, but will again soon!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Cèsar de Quart on November 10, 2019, 11:11:07 AM
If the Perry twins made their mini just a tad (juuuuust a tad) bigger, they'd be paradise for us Empire fiddlers.

You can still use them, but you need to contain them into one unit. Their arms are too small and their weapons too puny when compared to even basic state troopers.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 20, 2019, 06:26:10 PM
Back Again!

This was the second time young King Ferronso had to return to his city in shame. It seemed strange to him to suffer the ignominy twice, but such was his life recently! Nothing was going right for him.

Once again, the sky was darkening angrily as a storm brewed, and like before he knew there would be no warm welcome awaiting him, rather scowling faces and half-heard grumblings. He had expected to return a conquering hero, yet this was as far from that as could be imagined, which laced his shame with heart-wrenching disappointment.

His one consolation was that his people did not know just how deep his guilt ran. If they had known, then instead of mere, muttering sullenness there would be mockery, the hurling of insults, even rocks. His own silence and that of his guards who shared his secret shame, was all that was needed to conceal the truth. It did not, however, stop guilt wracking the king himself.

That summer, Ferronso, brimming with hopeful pride, had ridden off with Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore to join the holy war against the vampire duchess’s servants. In his absence, his city and the realm surrounding it had been invaded and overrun by Sartosan corsairs, who stripped it of everything of worth, ravaged every lady, maid and wench they could find and killed any who complained or stood in their way, even those who merely looked askance at them. Meanwhile, just before the great battle of the Valley of Norochia, doubt suddenly assailed the young king, filling him with such a fear for his realm that he abandoned the ‘holy’ cause, leaving behind just sufficient strength to save face and hurried homewards with his royal guards. Returning too late to stop the pirates, he had now failed doubly: breaking both his vow to fight the vampires as well as neglecting his kingly duty to protect his realm.

But neither of these failures were what really troubled his conscience, rather it was the fact that when he had returned the Sartosan pirates were still there, ransacking his realm, and he had dared not interfere. His guards told him it would be not only tactical folly but almost certain death. So, he had hidden in the trees and watched as his enemies plundered all they could. Worse still, he had felt comforted by his soldiers’ words, for they meant he did not have to place himself in danger.

He had watched his people suffer while feeling relief that he should not interfere!

Now, under an ominous sky, he and his companions skulked home. An observer who knew nothing of what had happened would never have thought to employ the word ‘skulk’, for the king and his guards were gloriously attired in their most fashionable and expensive armour, plumed in copious ostrich feathers, riding the finest of mounts, barded in colourfully enamelled plates. But to the king, skulking back was exactly what they were doing.

(https://i.imgur.com/4Ttar5o.jpg)

Ferronso was deep in thought as he and his company drew near the city, wondering if his name had already been tarnished for the rest of time, before he had even fought one battle. ‘Ferronso the Absent’? ‘Ferronso the Fool’? The glowering sky reflected his dark mood. The city was quiet, as one might expect from a wounded animal, curled up in anguish. Although perhaps, thought the king, there should be the sound of whimpering?

(https://i.imgur.com/ndWW5zx.jpg)

He could hear his royal standard fluttering by his side, the jangle of harnesses, the clattering of armour and the thump of hooves as the heavily burdened, heavy horses trotted along. Although he knew the outskirts of the town were now close, he could not bring himself to lift his head and look, but instead fixed his eyes on his hand clutching the reins. Strange, he thought, those are the reins I had on my pony as a child! The memory was not a happy one, for he had taken far too long learning to ride, fearful first of the pony, then of falling, then of failure, and he had known even at the time that everyone noticed his fear. Had his guards witnessed a similar fear when he watched the pirates from the trees? Would his people see his fear as he rode through the streets to his palazzo? How could anyone hope to hide so much fear?

Reluctantly, he lifted his head and glanced at a little knot of people close by, and yes, they seemed as sullen as he had expected. There were not many of them – some children, some old folk, a few women and a monk. Not the crowd a returning hero would deserve, the crowd he had imagined when he had set off months ago with Lord Alessio.

(https://i.imgur.com/A0Bt83M.jpg)

Was it terrible, he now asked himself, to wish the pirates had burned his city and butchered these wretches, so that his present shame would not be witnessed? Of course it was, he chided himself. He would never want such a thing. In truth, what he really wanted more than anything was the privacy and comfort of his palazzo, where such pitiful folk could not see him. Let them live their miserable lives, as long as they could not heap that misery on him.

To reach the street leading to his palace, he had to ride further along the city’s periphery, and as he did so more people came out to watch. Like before, he tried not to look at them, but he could not help himself. This time he saw there were men among the people, some sturdy fellows too.

Where had they been when his city needed defending?

Why should he shoulder all the blame?

(https://i.imgur.com/CwJBpvI.jpg)

Then he realised the men were armed! This was something the Sartosans would never have allowed while they occupied the city, which meant these fellows must surely have fled, returning only after the pirates had departed. What base cowards could do such a thing? Or perhaps these men hid their weapons during the brief and brutal occupation, cowering before the pirates and begging for mercy? What annoyed most was such men were able to stand amongst the people without any apparent malice directed towards them, while he himself had to suffer every sharp, accusative stare!

Something was niggling at him, more than his shame, more than his disgust that the men did not look ashamed too. There was something wrong about them. He could see a long-barrelled musket, a bearded fellow clutching two axes, a blunderbuss in the hands of a … dwarf!

(https://i.imgur.com/1Kecp6B.jpg)

A horrible thought struck him. Had some pirates stayed here in his city? Were his subjects so bruised and bewildered that they had feebly allowed these men to remain amongst them?

It made no sense. Unless … was this treachery? Had Barone Vettorio lied when he said the Sartosans had gone? Did his own courtiers and guards despise him so much that they were willing to hand him over to his enemies? Was he to be given as a hostage until the pirates had whatever else they wanted?

All these thoughts were surely madness. His burning guilt must be broiling his brains and addling his mind. It was the barone who had advised him against challenging the pirates with a force entirely insufficient to defeat them. If any should be blamed for inaction and made a hostage, it should be the barone!

Or did that make no sense? He shook his head in confusion, unable to straighten his thoughts, nor order them sensibly. Who had done what to whom with whose help? And why, oh why had they done it?

There were more people gathered further along. Once again, he stared at his horse’s reins to busy his mind with the act of riding and so avoid looking upon his subjects. The reins were not those of his old pony as he had first thought. Of course not. They could not possibly be - his horse was far too big for them. What had he been thinking?

Then something caught his eye – another gun! More than one! And more vicious looking men. And … unbelievable! The gurning, green face of a goblin, armed with a monstrous handgun decked with a barrel-load of barrels! Worse than that - two goblins and an orc!

(https://i.imgur.com/TChpPtj.jpg)

They were there right in front of him, standing among his subjects, who paid them no heed. This was impossible. Was everyone blind?

“Look, look there,” he ordered Sir Ormanno, the royal standard bearer at his side.

Ormanno did not seem to hear him, or perhaps did not want to hear him. Indeed, Ferronso spied a flash of disdain in Ormanno’s face, as if he found the very sound of the king’s voice annoying.

Ferronso felt no anger at this, however, for he was so nonplussed at the presence of greenskins in his city that there was little space left in his thoughts for other concerns.

“How?“ he began. “Why?“ His words faltered. He did not know what to ask, nor who to ask it of. Words failed him entirely.

There was a sudden noise from somewhere within the city. A thunderclap. Yet the sky, though dark, was surely not quite heavy enough for a storm.  The came another boom, like the last.

Was it cannon-fire?

His horse seemed oblivious to the sound; his guards ignorant of it. Why could only he hear it? More than this, there were other sounds too that made no sense. He could hear wind and lashing rain, despite there being no such things. And though the people, including the greenskins, stood silent, he could hear shouting too.

I’m not going into the city, he decided, and pulled on the reins. But the reins were rotten and snapped, leaving him clutching their ragged remnants. His company of guards, despite his unvoiced wish to flee, were turning to go into the city; his horse, unyielding to any command and now reinless, was drawn along with them. Before them stood more people, almost a crowd. This time they were pirates all, plain as day, including goblins, brutish orcs and sea dogs clutching every kind of gun.

Why couldn’t his guards see?

(https://i.imgur.com/tRu4A0R.jpg)

Why had Vettorio allowed him to come here? Where was the barone? Everything was wrong. It was obviously not safe to return to the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/8iUuNrI.jpg)

Another boom sounded, startling him. And someone was shouting.

“Wake up sire! Please, hurry!”

There was a man before him, sharply silhouetted by the bright light flashing through the window behind.

“The Sartosans came back, sire. Wake up!”

It was Vettorio’s voice. A peal of thunder followed the flash, the same as the sound in his dream. As soon as Ferronso sat up in his bed, Vettorio took his hands and began hauling him out.

“The storm must have forced them back,” said the barone. “The streets are swarming with them! Hurry, please sire, we must leave. We must get you to safety!”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 20, 2019, 06:49:36 PM
Where do those knights come from? :icon_eek: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 20, 2019, 08:03:20 PM
They're Casting Room Miniatures' range with a separate web shop to their parent company Wargames Foundry. They were cast in "2005 and 2012 by various different sculptors" and for some reason (they are a bit 'odd' in ways I can't explain) are not allowed on their main page.

https://castingroomminiatures.com/
specifically
https://castingroomminiatures.com/collections/renaissance

But it is the story that I want to know your opinion on (much work and re-re-writing goes into them sometimes). It's the writing I want to get right!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on December 21, 2019, 11:42:07 AM
The story is amazing Padre. You could think about writing for an occupation. I noticed those knights and their painting as well. Beautiful.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 21, 2019, 01:12:38 PM
The writing is very good, and it leads one's eyes back to the pictures.  So why would I not ask about the finely sculpted and painted figures in them?  That is what happens when one writes along side their pictures!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 21, 2019, 01:17:15 PM
I know, GP, but it's the writing I agonise about getting right. Painting toy soldiers is just 3D colouring in! ;)
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 21, 2019, 01:30:58 PM
If your writing wasn't as good as it is, and the pictures weren't so tied into your writing, then you'd be less entertaining. :icon_mrgreen: :icon_lol:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 18, 2020, 09:49:54 AM
Thanks GP
...............
By Your Leave
Before the Walls of Pavona, Winter IC 2403-4

“Still hungry?” asked Jorien absently as he picked at a spot of rust in his handgun’s pan.

Nikolaas groaned. “Please, not again,” he said. “It’s not funny anymore.”

“I never said it was. But at least it was a new joke when I first said it.”

“What?” asked Nikolaas, shaking his head.

“Well, we’ve never been hungry before in Tilea. The company has always kept our bellies full, ‘til now. Fleshmeat twice a week, sometimes more’n that, fish a-plenty, and if not beer to lull us to sleep and ease our aching limbs, then wine in lieu of it. And not bad wine, either. Even when we took on the orcs and gobs, we always fought with a good breakfast inside us. These last two weeks it’s been biscuit and pottage, in meagre portions, and not scrap of flesh.”

At first, it seemed Nikolaas would not answer, perhaps in protest at Jorien’s annoying joke, but it turned out he was merely pondering things.

“Do you think they have wine?” he asked, pointing at the walls. “And food?”

(https://i.imgur.com/48zK4H8.jpg)

Jorien looked back at the walls too. “They must have, otherwise they’d have sallied out by now, or someone would have tried to take supplies in. They’ve an army in there, good sized too, as well as all the citizens. That’s a lot of mouths, yet it’s been more than five weeks now and they’ve done nothing but shuffle about on the walls, waving flags now and again.”

“I heard there was some shooting last Tuesday,” said Nikolaas.

“That’s because half a dozen new arrivals were trying to creep in, so the handgunners on the walls wanted to lure our attention elsewhere. The sneaky sods got in quick too, helped by the fact they had little with them – certainly no supplies of any consequence. Besides, the Pavonans can’t take in supplies when there’s none to be had. They must’ve already taken everything in from miles around while we were trying to cross the river. ‘Twould explain their lack of concern about our blockade.”

Nikolaas shook his head. “I don’t they think they did. I’ve been out scrounging three times now, and good deal off a-ways too. Every place I saw, big or small, looked to have been dead for some considerable time, ghostly-quiet. Wim reckons the ogres razed everything but the city last year and the Pavonans have been suffering ever since. He said that’s why the Pavonans robbed Verezzo.”

“I can’t argue with that,” agreed Jorien. “You only have to look at the walls to see why the ogres didn’t even try to assault the city. They are the most substantial walls I’ve seen in Tilea, and I’ve seen a few.”

“If their land was razed completely,” said Nikolaas. “That’ll mean they’ve had no harvest, nor swine or kine to butcher. They must be living off whatever they robbed from Verezzo. And I doubt that’ll last much longer. They even lost some of the Verezzan loot trying to cross the river before we got to them.”

“Just a matter of waiting, then.”

The two of them fell quiet for a while, staring at the walls, which just happened to be exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

(https://i.imgur.com/vbmP41R.jpg)

Then Jorien piped up again, “Why do you keep getting picked to go scrounging?”

“Don’t start complaining. I already told you there’s nothing to be had out there.”

Jorien frowned. “It’d get me out of these works for a change of scenery and a stretch of my legs.”

“The sergeant has nothing against you, Jorien. He picks my file because he knows we did a good job the time before.”

“And the time before that.  And the time before that,” said Jorien. “At this rate no-one else will ever get to go. I wonder if he’ll pick you to go out when he wants a forlorn hope, what with you proving how good your legs work?”

Nikolaas grinned. “No, he’ll pick your file because he knows you’re good at staying put.”

“Very funny,” said Jorien.

The two of them then noticed a little more movement on the walls than usual and went quiet for a while they watched to see if it looked likely to amount to anything. When nothing much seemed to come of it, Jorien continued the conversation.

“You know, when you think about it, philosophical ‘n all that, we’re here because the Pavonans robbed Verezzo. But if they only did that because the ogres robbed them, then the ogres are the real reason we’re here. You know I’m not the biggest fan of Tileans, but it was the ogres who started this mess.”

“The ogres were always the reason we came north,” said Nikolaas. “Them and the unmentionables. But we’re not here because the Pavonans robbed Verezzo, we’re here because they then told the world that we were the robbers. General Valckenburgh can’t have people slandering him, and the company won’t profit if no-one trusts us to trade with.”

“Then profit’s the real reason, as it always is,” suggested Jorien. “It’s gold that drags us across the world, though we ourselves only ever see silver, and that rare enough. You know, we should be being paid almost full wages right now. They can’t deduct much for meat and drink when it’s little more than biscuit and peas, and while we tarry here, they aren’t giving us shoes in lieu of pay either.”

Nikolaas tutted. “Find a better complaint, Jorien. There’s nothing to spend silver on while we’re stuck in these works. We don’t have to pay for the view.”

“I’ll grant you it is nice to look at.”

(https://i.imgur.com/kh0bh36.jpg)

As Nikolaas smiled at this they both looked out at the city again. The walls remained strong, which might not have been the case had the VMC’s guns been plying iron against them. Instead, for want of orders rather than powder or shot, the guns had remained almost wholly silent. The gunners had been told to fire upon any who tried to leave or enter, and otherwise do nothing but be ready. A stalemate had thus set in, then dragged on. As it was winter, the northerners in the army, mostly Marienburgers and mercenaries from Middenland, Reikland and Westerland, could at least be thankful they were not too hot, as they surely would have been had it been six months earlier.

“Wait a moment,” said Jorien, suddenly and loud. “What’s all this?”

A little party of men had emerged from one of the sally ports, preceded by an ensign sporting a white flag.

“Looks like someone wants to talk,” said Nikolaas.

“Well they took their bloody time about it,” complained Jorien.


..........................................


As the party drew close to the siege works, it became clear that Duke Guidobaldo Gondi’s son, Lord Silvano, had been tasked with the negotiations. The armoured nobleman who approached was far too young to be the duke yet was accompanied not just by the white flag of truce but the ducal banner also - apart from the duke, only his heir would be allowed to do so.

Lord Silvano had already acquired fame as a brave commander, a dutiful son and for dedication to the war against the undead, despite his young years, and despite also losing his older brother in the war against Prince Girenzo of Trantio. He was with the holy army serving the arch-lector Calictus when they assaulted Viadaza, and drove the vampire Lord Adolfo from the city, and by all accounts acquitted himself well in the fight. It was his men, along with the enslaved soldiers of Campogrotta, who had murdered the ogres marching with the holy army, but it was generally accepted (as indeed it was by the court martial held at the time) that he was not at all responsible for their actions, neither ordering, assisting or by deliberate inaction allowing them to do what they did. After much of his army was ordered south by his father to help in the war against the tryant Boulderguts’ double army, he himself rode with his Sharlian riders to further assist the arch-lector of Morr, Calictus II, in the holy war. He was at the Second Battle of Ebino when the arch-lector died, having charged deep into the terrible foe and later escaping the field with the mere handful of his elven riders who survived. He made his way south and was reunited with his father just in time to join the Reman/Pavonan allied army that pursued the ogres from Pavona and then prevented their approach on Remas at the bloody Battle of the Diocleta, where he sought the fiercest of the fighting and was badly wounded leading a charge against a body of mournfang mounted brutes. His recovery took several months, in Remas, while his father failed to catch the ogres, but as soon  as he could ride in armour again, he joined with the grand alliance army commanded by Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore and was present the Battle of the Valley of Death in the necropolis of Norochia. Only after all this had he returned to Pavona, ordered by his father to do so in case the ogres had circumnavigated the allied army to return southward and finish what they had begun.

(https://i.imgur.com/DCFTnEO.jpg)

When the young lord was brought before General Valckenbugh and his officers, however, he began by saying little of himself or his past deeds, other than that he was his father’s sole surviving son and wished only to serve his father loyally. This elicited much angry muttering from the officers, but Valckenburgh silenced them with a mere look.

"You yourself do have the reputation of being an honourable nobleman, and a courageous fellow to boot,” said the general. “In light of events, I might well have baulked at speaking with your father. As it is you, however, I am willing to listen to what you have to say, despite suspecting it is your father’s words you must deliver. Before you proceed, sir, know that I will not brook one more Pavonan lie. Have a care to speak only that which you know or wholly believe to be the truth.”

(https://i.imgur.com/tSnpsTv.jpg)

Lord Silvano showed no sign of displeasure at the implied accusation. Perhaps once a person has faced the living dead in battle upon repeated occasions, the nervousness or bitterness a meeting like this entails must surely pale in comparison? He simply acknowledged the general’s words with a bow.

The officers of the VMC glowered at him, their anger palpable, especially that of Luccia La Fanciulla, the bearer of the VMC’s blessed Myrmidian standard. Of course, she of all of them, valued honour, discipline and martial prowess. She had as yet barely been able to bring herself to speak of the Pavonan duke’s treachery and lies.

(https://i.imgur.com/hRagc3H.jpg)

If Lord Silvano noticed, he gave no sign, and began to deliver his speech ...

Continued in next post.

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 18, 2020, 09:50:51 AM
By Your Leave, continued


“Good general, by your leave, I would have you know it was my father who originally wrote to Lord Alessio and other Tilean rulers last Autumn to propose an alliance against Bouldergut’s ogres, before Pavona was even attacked. Sadly, but of dire necessity, my father was forced to raze Trantio and several of his own towns in order to deny the ogres the plunder they so desired, after which he then helplessly witnessed almost the entirety of the rest his realm being ravaged, knowing that to attack Boulderguts’ double army with his own weakened force would mean the pointless death of many a brave Pavonan soldier. I confess freely that I myself bear a large portion of the blame, for I had entreated my father to allow me to march away with much of our army in order to join in the arch-lector’s war against the vampires. All my father could do was defend the city itself, successfully ensuring the ogres could see the folly of attempting to storm its sturdy defences.

“My father then joined with the Remans in the war against the ogres, while single-handedly brokering the agreement which saved Remas from being engulfed in a suicidal civil war between the established church and the Disciplinati di Morr, myself being unable to assist at the time. When he marched homeward, he graciously allowed me to join with Lord Alessio’s grand army in the war against the vampires, and to command, once again, the largest part of our army.

(https://i.imgur.com/FwzoCVa.jpg)

“On his journey home my father was required, by necessity of war, to travel near unto the Verezzo. He did not, however, intend to ride through any part of that realm, due to the old animosity between Lord Lucca and himself, which had been exacerbated by Lord Lucca’s insulting slight against my father concerning the nulling of the marriage contract between my noble brother and Lord Lucca’s daughter. Nevertheless, my father cared little for such grudges, what with the dire circumstances of the wars and the much more terrible acts intended by the vampires and ogres. He sought only to return home and to avoid any trouble arising from the old animosity.”

General Valckenburgh raised a finger to silence the lord momentarily.

“I am wholly aware of the constant, internecine rivalries of the Tilean city states,” he said. “If there were not that disagreement, then I do not doubt there would be some other. These are particularities of little interest to me, considering the unforgiveable slight your father made against me and those under my command.”

The young lord simply nodded, apparently unperturbed by the general’s words, nor showing disdain either.

“By your leave, general,” he continued, “I mean to say only that my father was returning to his sorrowful realm, a city surrounded by wasted ruins and fields empty of livestock, believing his last surviving son was many leagues away facing unknown horrors - he could not know of the ease of the victory at Norochia – whilst fearing with the dreadful prospect that vampires, ogres or both might yet attack his beloved realm before he could return to defend it. The last of his concerns was the old rivalry with Verezzo, if he thought of it at all.

(https://i.imgur.com/SryFq6L.jpg)

“It was then, in this hour of deepest distraction, my father received the report that during mine and his absence from the city, and indeed Lord Lucca’s absence from his own realm, a band of Verezzan brigands had raided and robbed Pavona, taking ruthless advantage of its weakness. It was not a big raid, indeed only a handful of Pavonans died, but the news of it made my father furious - that Verezzans would so cruelly exploit Pavona’s misfortune and at such a dangerous time for the whole of Tilea. Being so close to Verezzo, he decided he must exact immediate revenge for the insult. He knew that were he to inflict merely like-for-like injury it would be seen as a sign of weakness, nor would it serve as a suitable punishment for such a crime, and so he intended to plunder Verezzo of sufficient riches both to recompense for the losses his own realm had suffered and to teach the Verezzans that if ever they were so wickedly bold again they should expect a swift and suitably punishing response.

“Instead of attacking the city of Verezzo itself, my father moved against Spomanti, for he believed that Lord Lucca was, like myself, with the grand alliance army, and could not possibly have been behind the raid, nor even known about it. It had been, by all accounts, Verezzan brigands and so Spomanti seemed to be a more appropriate target.

“For what then happened, good general, my father sincerely offers you, Lord Lucca’s family, the people of Verezzo and holy Morr, an honest and heartfelt apology. The force under my father’s command contained, of military necessity, several companies of mercenaries, including a large body of Reman bravi, who set about plundering Spomanti more thoroughly and cruelly than my father ever intended, and in so doing first spurred and then, by their continued disobedience and the delay it caused, allowed the Verezzans to dispatch a relief force to Spomanti.

“What my father could not know was that Lord Lucca himself was in command of that force, for he fully believed Lord Lucca was still with the allied army to the north.

 “The fight that ensued was bloody, and Lord Lucca was slain. When my father was rightly appraised of the matter, he was aghast, even ashamed. He knew that such a mistake would never be believed. He also felt heartily sorry for the poor people of Verezzo, for he was, howsoever unwittingly, responsible for the death of their protector just when the danger was greatest, what with the threat of the vampires and brute ogres.

“Wracked with guilt, my father decided he must help the Verezzans, yet he understood that they would never trust him if they knew he had commanded the very same force that killed their lord. Thus it was, by dire necessity, he had to concoct a story that would engender the Verezzans’ trust, for their own good. When he heard of the claims that the Portomaggiorans were behind the raid (an easy mistake to make what with the similar liveries of the two realms) he realized this might mean the Verezzans would distrust yet another ruler who wished only to protect them. And so, with little time to weigh any other possibilities, nor consider the myriad consequences, he declared it possible that soldiers from your army of the VMC must have been to blame, disguised as Portomaggiorans.”

Every pair of eyes drilled into the young lord in this moment, the VMC officers’ hatred and anger positively palpable. Silvano seemed not to register.

(https://i.imgur.com/VzqPofd.jpg)

“As you are foreigners,” he said, “the superstitious and ignorant Verezzans would expect no better from you, and in so misdirecting their ire, my father could then do what must be done to help them.

“He knew at the time that it he was issuing a deplorable slur, but he was acting in the midst of war, to help a people he knew already distrusted him, when not to do so could mean their utter destruction. Not only did he need to return home quickly, he needed to convince the Verezzans to travel with him immediately, so that there they might be much better guarded against the several many foes. As such, despite the untruths and slanders necessary to convince the Verezzans to trust him, he believed his ploy to be a desperate gamble worth taking.

“He is now willing to reveal the truth to the world and in so doing clear your name and that of the VMC completely and entirely: That he had fully intended to inflict punishment upon the Verezzans for the crimes against his own people, but that then he lost control of his own forces (admittedly not the Pavonans amongst them, but the base bravi from Remas), and that afterwards he slandered your name in a misguided and desperate attempt to fool the Verezzans into allowing him to guide them to safety.

“My father offers prayers of confession even now, day and night, to most holy Morr, and vows to suffer all the penances the holy priests see fit to prescribe.”

Here Lord Silvano fell silent. His words had no hint of arrogance, nor passion. Instead they had been delivered calmly and unhastily, like a messenger might carefully recount the message he had been instructed to carry; words that were not his own and so could not be used against him.

Van Riekert and his officers had listened to the latter part of his elaborate explanation with stony faces. When the young lord was finally done, the commander of the VMC breathed deeply as he considered what had been said. He then coughed, as if trying to find his voice, and spoke,

“Your ... explanation of events paints an unfortunate picture of your father and even worse of his hospitality towards an ally who marches in the field to defend land, lives and property that will profit me not one iota.”

(https://i.imgur.com/UW4Yo7O.jpg)

“When news of the insult heaped upon my men reached them, my honest and valiant soldiers, who have taken this land and her people into their hearts, were filled with fury. It took all the discipline of my officers to hold them back from making an immediate assault, which had it been carried would have seen Pavona burn. But that disaster was averted, and it seems time was thus granted to your father, or more certainly for you, to realise the folly of his actions.

“Your father’s offer of apology, and his suggestion to put publicly declare the truth, will do little to salve the wounds done to the reputation of honour of the VMC. Once a lie is released into the world, it will fester in dark corners like vile goblins or ratmen, no matter how much the flame of truth scours the land.”

The tension amongst the officers had, if anything, become greater. They stood more rigid than ever, adopting the formal stances of officers at such a gathering, but with an anticipation that added a tremulousness to their postures, as if it took a great effort merely to stand remain quiet.

“But,” said the general, “my purpose here in the more northern parts of Tilea, away from my duties in Alcante, is to fight a common enemy ...” Here he paused a moment, perhaps needlessly because all present hung upon his every word, “… not to be drawn into the internecine rivalries of city states. While the forces I have at my disposal could surely carry this siege, it would serve in the long run only to weaken Tilea’s defences, and thus strengthen the hand of our mutual enemies.”

The disconcertion of his officers was now very visible, as each of them now realised what it was their general was about to do.

“So, Lord Silvano Gondi,” said the general, pointing directly at the Pavonan prince, “On your word of honour, my armies will break camp and get on with the crucial business of making war against the undead and the ratmen …”

Lord Silvano’s face just noticeably registered the slightest sign of surprise at the mention of the ratmen. General Valckenburgh did not seem to notice.

“… but rest assured,” the General continued, “If your word is broken, so shall be the walls and the very back of Pavona.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 18, 2020, 01:13:14 PM
I like the mixture of colors on these figures, especially the gray and yellow! :icon_cool: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on February 18, 2020, 10:34:18 PM
Excellent Padre. Not sure why you worry about the quality of writing. I read this like a novel and enjoy every chapter. 😸👍
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 04, 2020, 07:58:13 PM
Thanks Artobahn. I may have finally lost all patience (not that I had much) with the Back Table, and so the good news is I should spend more of my free time writing campaign stories instead!

Here's the prequel story to the battle I am playing tomorrow evening!

.......

Battle (Name tbc) Prequel

Leaving Luccini, Again!

Captain Anssem Van Baas had made his way up to the roof of the building where he, his sea artists and officers were lodged, to watch the rest of the Sartosan army as it marched from the city. His bosun, Moukib Brahimi, having just returned from the ship after overseeing repairs to the rigging, and his master gunner, Harrie Otmann, joined him at the roof’s railed edge.

(https://i.imgur.com/YOXXSQX.jpg)

The Captain had been tasked with guarding both the city and the captured king, as well as perhaps most importantly the enharboured fleet, which was being repaired after the battering it had taken during the recent storm. To minimise the damage, several crews had even had to cut their mainmasts to the board to prevent them being ripped from the ships by the wind! The storm had forced them to return, much against their wishes, to the city they had only just picked clean of every scrap of profitable plunder. While the work of mending was hard, the royal hostage they had gained upon their unexpected return was a welcome gift and potential recompense for their tempestuous troubles.

The three of them were wordless for a little while, as they watched the pirates assembling along the street at their lodging’s front. Anssem’s raggedy, black hat joined with his copious beard to frame the weather-worn and pockmarked flesh of his face. A scarf of yellow silk encircled his waist, wrapped around his long, grey coat. His companions flanked him: his master gunner, wearing a patch to hide the mess that a shiver of the ship’s hull had made of his eye during a firefight seven years ago, and the bosun, a burly Southlander clutching a belaying pin that was more a club than a tool.

(https://i.imgur.com/kY7FqzY.jpg)

“Ha!” laughed Moukib as he looked at the first pirates in the column. “Garique’s handgunners are at the head! No wonder it takes them all so long to leave!”

(https://i.imgur.com/hfChgU1.jpg)

The captain grinned, for he too had noticed Garique’s men, specifically his mate Goerdt, at the fore. Garique’s Bretonnians called Geordt ‘Jambe de Bois’, while the Estalians called him ‘Pie de Palo’, for obvious reasons. Everyone else in the fleet called him Jambalo, although most knew not why. Anssem pondered what mischievous notion had possessed Admiral Volker to order a one-legged man to the fore? Perhaps there was genius in the decision, for it gave that little bit more time for the wine-addled or sore headed sailors to get in line?

(https://i.imgur.com/wnTjQ5y.jpg)

“I still don’t see why so many agreed to go,” said Harrie. “The whole enterprise is a waste o’ time and effort, if you ask me.”

“They were ordered to go, and you have the captain to thank for the fact that we do not go too,” said Moukib.

Anssem was absently scratching at his bearded chin with the iron hook that served as his left hand, a habit which often drew blood, creating the scabs that would, in turn, generate a new itch.

“’Tweren’t my decision to stay,” he said, “despite it being my desire. The admiral wants us here. We’re the strongest crew and the one he can trust. He wants to keep his eye on the rest of ‘em.”

“If those lads come back mauled and bloody,” said Harrie, pointing dramatically at the men below, “then they’ll bear a mighty grudge against Volker. The best he can hope for is that they scare the Luccinans off easily and complain only of the time it took to do so. If they suffer unnecessarily then for certain it’ll be the end of his admiralcy.”

“Volker only fights when he needs to,” argued Moukib.

“But he don’t need to fight this time,” said Harrie. “The Luccinans haven’t even attacked! They’re too weak to do so. We have their baby king yet still they squat in the hills too afraid to do anything about it. They’re not going to attack us, so why pick a fight with them? I say why trouble ourselves over anything that ain’t pursuit o’ gold, silver or anything else worth having?”

“Our army marches to protect the gold we already have,” said Moukib. “The enemy might be weak, but they have waited some time now, while we cannot leave until the fleet is made fit to sail. You have to ask what they are waiting for? If they cannot beat us, then why do they not leave? They must be waiting for help. The admiral intends to scatter them before that help arrives.”

Anssem was nodding. “We are not the only ones to have banded together. This is a time of grand alliances, with city joining city to defend against the vampires and ogres.”

“Don’t sound like a good time for us to start a-raiding then,” suggested Harrie.

“No, it is the best time,” said Moukib. “Because their grand alliances have failed so far. Now they are allied out of desperation and even when marching together they are weak. Besides, when they leave to fight in the north, no-one is left behind to defend their homes.”

“Except there is an army out there in the hills, however small it might be, and men will die fighting them. I still say it’s a waste. There’s no-one coming to help them. No-one cares. We have their king and they cannot do anything about it. But honour means they cannot leave either.”

“They can do something! They can pay us for their king,” suggested Moukib.

“That they cannot do, Mouk” said Harrie. “I doubt there’s a Luccinan left with even a copper token to offer up for a ransom.”

The Sartosans had ransacked the city and the surrounding realm more expertly and thoroughly than even brutes or greenskins could have done.

“The soldiers could find the gold,” said Moukib.

“I doubt that,” said the captain. “They’re not returning from a war of conquest, laden with plunder. They’re returning from an already ruined land, after fighting the living dead. They’ve nothing to give us. Harrie is right, Mouk, they cannot pay and they cannot retake their city. We should just let them be. Would you ram a wounded sea serpent just because it swam close to your ship?”

Moukib chortled dismissively. “If the army is a wounded sea serpent, then it is an infant. They have little more than two regiments, one gun and the king’s doddering uncle to command them.”

“Don’t be so sure the fight will be easy,” said Harrie. “They’ve dug themselves some fine earthworks at a carefully chosen spot, and they have grown in strength.”

“How so? No other armies have come to their aid.”

“You have been working too hard, Moukib my friend,” said Harrie. “Your thoughts have been all a-tangled in cables and lines. We found out two days ago that they now have a large body of men who fled Luccini when we returned, and even a few of the King’s mounted guards who escaped.”

“Ha! And you had me worried!” laughed Moukib. “Such as they count for nothing. Cowardly peasants who fled without a fight and steel-clad noblemen so noble they forgot to guard their king! Their sort add weakness to an army, not strength.”

“Let’s hope so,” said the captain, “for all these lads’ sakes!”

For whatever reason, down in the street march had faltered a while, but the pirates now began to move again.

(https://i.imgur.com/iTpMWRB.jpg)

“I suggest Moukib,” said the captain, pointing down at the boy lugging a bucket alongside the marchers, “you take a leaf from little Janneken’s book. He don’t look worried.”

(https://i.imgur.com/JclpiFM.jpg)

“Aye. He’s got other things to worry about,” said Harrie. “I told him last time that when he brings water there ought to be more than a spoonful left in the bucket when he arrives. Woe betide the lad if he spills it all again.”

“You’re too hard on the boy,” said Captain Anssem. He’s a good ‘un. Too small to carry that bucket, mind you, but he’s run through more’n one firefight with charges for the guns, his ear’s a-bleeding last time too.”

The army was beginning to move off properly now, and more and more were turning onto the street.

(https://i.imgur.com/4JBTAUN.jpg)

The van was mostly made up of deck gunners, many armed with handguns. The Sartosans, like the VMC (of whom a good proportion were also from Marienburg) favoured the use of powder in battle, both on land and sea. They had wagons to carry several artillery pieces hauled from their ships, as the gun’s diminutive trucks were incapable of travelling the roads. One small company struggled along with swivel guns. Even those among them without a ranged firearm of some kind, of which there were several large bodies expected to engage the foe in melee, were festooned with pistols, whether they be human, dwarf or even goblin, although the latter had a tendency to cause harm with their pistols not only to the enemy but also to themselves.

They also had a predilection for the more exotic kinds of guns, with an entire company armed with blunderbusses, and several, like Jambalo, carrying multi-barrelled oddities designed to allow the firer to shoot rapidly, for instead of reloading all they had to do was twist the next pre-loaded barrel in place. Needless to say, perhaps, these mechanically extravagant guns were not the most reliable pieces in the pirates’ arsenal.

(https://i.imgur.com/ncLjOag.jpg)

Before long Admiral Volker’s own crew, who bore the brunt of the fighting during the initial capture of the city, were marching into view, being in the centre of the column. Captain Anssem espied the orc Gudyag, who had proved himself one of the admiral’s most loyal crewmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/Z8eyDsa.jpg)

Gudyag, like several other orcs in Volker’s fleet, had been of Scarback’s Greenskin Corsairs, being separated from the orc admiral’s fleet during the storm which drove most vessels onto the rocks along the Caretello coast. Gudyag’s ship had been forced south, running before the wind while the crew cursed the cliffs on the lee shore as if foul language might convince the rocks to shy away! Once the storm subsided, he and his crewmates presumed the rest of the corsairs, Scarback included, must surely have perished when wrecked. Gudyag later discovered that Scarback and a good portion of his corsairs had survived and were in the paid service of Portomaggiore, but like almost every one of his crewmates he now signed a Sartosan commodore's articles. Choosing to stay with the Sartosans was a decision he was later glad of when he learned of the Greenskin Corsairs’ massacre at the hands of Khurnag's Waagh! Those who now remained of Gudyag’s original crewmates were scattered throughout Volker’s fleet, serving different captains, partly because they struggled to get on with each other partly because the Sartosans did not want too many burly orcs serving in any one particular crew.

An exception had been made for the goblin boss Bagnam Fark, for although he commanded a large ship and a full greenskin crew, they were almost all goblins, and the Sartosans found it hard to imagine that they could cause anything but minor annoyance to Volker’s fleet should they become troublesome. Fark had an unusual way with words and had haggled his way into serving with the fleet. Admiral Volker seemed to have the notion that having the goblin boss in his fleet would come in useful, although exactly how, whether strategic, tactical, diplomatic or for some other reason, only the admiral knew. Captain Anssem now pondered whether the goblins were included in the fleet for just such a situation as this, for who better to throw against the earthwork defences of a stubborn and desperate foe than goblins? While the Sartosan men, dwarfs and orcs poured lead-shot into the mix, the goblin mob could fight their way into the defences. If they failed, nothing of importance had been lost. If they succeeded, then well and good. And either way, the more casualties they suffered, the better.

As the rag-tag army passed by below, several of the marching pirates glanced up at the three men watching them from the roof.

(https://i.imgur.com/8kXJ6oR.jpg)

Anssem did not need to be able to see their faces clearly to know that they wore angry expressions. Most in the fleet were of a like mind with Harrie. Very few were keen on fighting the remnant Luccinan army when there was no loot to be gained. Having to march by the captain of the one crew ordered to stay in the city was like rubbing salt in their wounds.

“I’ve seen enough,” said the Captain. “Let’s go below.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on March 05, 2020, 10:21:23 PM
Funny enough, I can’t wait to see the gobbo mercenaries in action. Great set up.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 05, 2020, 10:35:29 PM
And you will, for I just watched them do just that. Embarrassing, it was.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 14, 2020, 11:57:59 PM
(I did this bat rep like a recent one, setting up pictures after the actual battle to look 'nicer', and writing a less detailed report which reads a bit more like a story than a report.)

How Not to Save a King
Winter 2403-4, North-East of Aversa

It was a crisply cold day when the Sartosan fleet’s army arrived before the Luccinans’ fortified camp in the rolling hills where the westernmost reaches of Sussurio Forest peter out. Admiral Volker’s entire strength was not present, for he had left Captain Ansselm and his crew back in Luccini to guard the fleet and the captured king. As soon as he saw the enemy’s camp and less than impressive force with his own eyes, he was satisfied that his decision to split his army had been sound.

The admiral was personally in command of his own crew, their number diminished by the short but bloody fighting of weeks before when Luccini was taken. By his side was his personal standard, the same design as his ship’s ensign - bleached bones crossed behind a skull atop a cutlass. The fleet’s most powerful sorcerer, Adus Arcabar, accompanied him, using his staff more as a badge of office and occasional walking stick than a focus for sorcerous energies. Still, with a battle about to be joined, no doubt magic would soon begin flowing through it.

(https://i.imgur.com/41AciWL.jpg)

Arcabar’s able apprentice, Esorin Vedus, had sprinted away from his master’s side a few moments before to clamber up a nearby mound, all the better to observe the enemy camp.

Upon the admiral’s right was the newly formed body of pikemen, who were being subjected to a veritable torrent of corrective orders and criticisms from their Marienburger sergeant. Having once served in the city-state’s army, the sergeant was well-aware how badly they compared to a trained regiment of Tilean militiamen, never mind the professional condottiere regiment that the scouts had reported spotting in the enemy army. At least he could hope the Sartosan pirates’ firepower would make up for the discrepancy in skill at arms, and indeed behind the pikemen, set upon raised ground so that they could shoot over the main battle line, was one of the army’s brace of guns and one of its two companies of swivel gunners.

(https://i.imgur.com/aX9315B.jpg)

To the admiral’s immediate left was Bagnarm Farq’s goblin crew. Fifty in number, they vastly outnumbering Volker’s little company. Farq himself was at the fore, dressed in the long, braided coat he had won in a game of bones and the gold trimmed, cocked hat he took from the very same gamester after the duel they fought when the fellow accused Farq of cheating. Considerably more noise came from the goblins than from the pikemen, for while only the one irritable sergeant could be heard among the men, almost every goblin was keen to whoop, yell and ululate in a peculiarly inharmonious manner, a confusion made all the more discordant by the occasional blast of their musician’s horn and the peppered cracks as pistols were excitably discharged into the sky.
 
(https://i.imgur.com/JYMDfpl.jpg)

Two bodies of deck gunners formed the other elements of the battle-line. Captain Jamaar Garique’s crew had moved up in front of the second gun, which like its counterpart had been placed upon a low hill. Garique’s pirates mostly wielded long handguns, apart from the captain’s one-legged mate Jambalo who cradled his many-barreled muskatoon.

(https://i.imgur.com/FexwSt3.jpg)

The rest of Admiral Volker’s crew were out on the far-left flank of the line, armed with blunderbusses. Their master was the black-bearded dwarf Hurmaes, who made a point of not being bothered by the fact that only the two goblins in the company were shorter than him. One of the men was so tall he was known as Long Jack, being nearly a bald-head taller than all others in the company, but only because the great orc Draja, despite being more than twice as heavy, was bent almost double, so that his head seemed to grow out of his chest rather than his shoulders.

(https://i.imgur.com/DbltF3V.jpg)

Draja lugged a mighty blunderbuss bigger than a ship’s espingole – a wide-muzzled, swivel gun that would have to be mounted on stanchions if a man were to attempt to fire it. He called it ‘Mine’. Once, when asked why he called it that, he had simply said, “Because it is.” Over the years, Draja had suffered several, self-inflicted injuries as a consequence of his general clumsiness - he lost an eye to the flash of an over-charged pan and obliterated his foot entirely when he squeezed the trigger at just the wrong moment. Even so, his love for it remained true and the bloodthirsty excitement he got from discharging it had diminished not one jot. Luckily, he was not known for nimbleness and his companions nearly always had sufficient time to get out of his way when he hefted it to give fire. Several of those who had hesitated, or just failed to notice him bringing the piece to bear, were no longer part of the company. When the rest of his crew told tales of what ‘Mine’ had done over the years, Draja usually just sat grunting, “Hur, hur, hur!” whilst affectionately patting the gun by his side.

(https://i.imgur.com/6rNiD5C.jpg)

The second little company of swivel gunners had found a little sheep pen to fortify themselves in, and now waited, with lit match cords, for the larger pieces to fire as that was the sign to loose their own first volley of heavy lead-shot.

(https://i.imgur.com/9NlYCuI.jpg)

The remnant army of Luccini was drawn up behind its earthwork defences. They had but one piece of artillery, ensconced in a semi-circle of earth filled gabions, by which their small regiment of professional pike stood.

(https://i.imgur.com/GTNIBgo.jpg)

Although the pikemen had not fought in years, they had marched many a mile fir many a month until finally camping here in the hills. They had been present at the Battle of the Valley of Death, but had done little more there than spectate as the guns big and small had torn into enemy sufficiently to convince even the undead that to stay would be madness. Here, however, it seemed inevitable that they would engage the foe, unless, as some of them had darkly muttered, the Sartosans’ guns proved as effective as their own had in the necropolis valley.

(https://i.imgur.com/aZO4YNs.jpg)

Upon the other side of the piece was one half of the peasant militia that had been formed from those who had escaped the city and the surrounding realm when the Sartosans landed to begin their depredations. They had arrived at the camp for want of anywhere else to go, and General Marsilio had made it clear that if they were to stay then this time they must be prepared to fight. He could not arm them, however, for he no longer had access to the city’s magazine, and so while some had weapons of war such as spears and fighting axes, and one or two had swords, just as many again were armed with nothing more than pitchforks, scythes, cudgels or knives.

The other half of the peasant militia (they had been divided on the general’s orders so that they might better man the defences) were on the far right of the camp’s front, with the condottiere crossbowmen between them and the pike regiment.

(https://i.imgur.com/pbmvIE9.jpg)

The wizard Duke Ercole Perrotto, uncle to the captured King Ferronso, watched from the defences in between the pike and the crossbow, whilst behind him was General Marsilio and the few remaining royal bodyguard who had pledged to fight to the last as a penance for the fact that they had allowed the king to be taken by the pirates.

(https://i.imgur.com/2auvZcl.jpg)

Captain Girhur Brewaxe and his dwarf sea dogs had struck out to the left as the Sartosan army made its approach, so that they could now advance upon the camp’s flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/1Ljwmqw.jpg)

Girhur carried a club carved with a magical rune that added an unnatural strength to its blows, more than compensating for the fact that his lack of a left hand meant he could only wield it one-handed. His compass was also magical, stolen from an Arabyan corsair, and possessed the mystical power to guide its user in many more ways than a needle of iron fed with lodestone could ever do. Indeed, it was the compass that had allowed him and his dogs to move so close to the enemy so quickly, despite having had to travel a wide arc to get there. 

Behind the palisade, the wizard duke moved over to stand with the crossbowmen and watch the enemy deploying with a heavy heart. Only luck, he thought, could grant him victory today, for nothing else was in their favour.

He did not feel lucky.

(https://i.imgur.com/WwK6KGj.jpg)

Yet there was nothing else he could have done. His nephew, the king, was the pirates’ prisoner, and the city was theirs too. He could neither retake the city nor leave, for he lacked the strength to do the former and was too honourable to do the latter. Nor could he rescue the king by other means – the enemy had magicians of their own, and capable ones at that. They would no doubt sense whatever spells he conjured to assist a party of rescuers, and then both they and a large army of pirates would be roused to put a stop any attempt made. All he had was the remote hope that, despite the wars against both vampires and ogres, someone would send some sort of force to assist them. Perhaps the Portomaggioran ruler Lord Alessio might do so? He had attended the king’s crowning and seemed even to like Duke Ercole’s nephew somewhat. Yet even that was made unlikely due to fact that Lord Alessio was currently marching north to face the vampires, many hundreds of leagues distant. First the news had to reach him and then whatever relief he dispatched would have to travel all the way to Luccini.

Duke Ercole’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crunch and violent motion along the earthworks to his left. He turned to see a rapidly rising cloud of dirt and debris, from which a man staggered screaming, his shirt bloodied, accompanied by the booming sound of the enemy’s guns. It seemed the enemy’s iron-shot had traveled quicker than the noise of their firing! He tried to recall what had been there moment’s before, then as the debris tumbled down, he saw it was their own gun, or, more accurately, what remained of it, for one of its wheels had been smashed to pieces and the rest of the crew had been felled by the strike. Both he and the crossbowmen were momentarily stunned into inaction, even as the sound of the enemy’s other guns rattled out and splinters of the wattle fencing holding their walls of rubble together span through the air.

They had lost their gun before it had even fired one shot!

The sound of gunfire ended abruptly, and after a moment's silence, a cheer went up from the enemy and their entire line began to advance. The duke then gasped as he sensed a coiling burst of magical energy sizzling in his vicinity. He had been too distracted to sense it a moment earlier, and now had insufficient time to counter it. He heard screaming from behind and turned to see three of last surviving mounted nobility of the king’s bodyguard slide off their mounts to crash heavily onto the ground. General Marsilio and the standard bearer’s own horses were considerably perturbed by this turn of events and as they bucked their riders allowed the reaction to turn into a canter towards the gate on the flank of the camp’s defences. The general had spied the advancing dwarfs.

Duke Ercole returned his attention to the enemy. As the men around him hefted their crossbows to loose a volley at the pirates with Admiral Volker, he conjured a curse to fall upon the same body. Moments later it was Volker’s turn to be surprised, for in a a matter of seconds his already diminished crew had been thoroughly decimated yet again!

(https://i.imgur.com/GMqWpYT.jpg)

As Girhur and his dogs now drew close to the defences …

(https://i.imgur.com/pCy2HfM.jpg)

… the peasant militia had noticed their movement, as well as that of their own general. The leader, an old wheelwright (no less than master of the city’s guild of wheelwrights), pointed and announced that if the general was going to charge to dwarfs, then they would too!

(https://i.imgur.com/LxXZZne.jpg)

As the general and his lone companion rode their barded horses through the gate, the peasants clambered over the defensive fence and began hurtling towards Captain Girhur and his dwarfs.

(https://i.imgur.com/i0EWsrz.jpg)

The dwarfs fired their pistols with practised skill against the two riders, but their shot was insufficiently powerful to pierce the steel armour encasing men and horses.

 (https://i.imgur.com/7VQ2Ttj.jpg)

As bullets pinged off its metal carapace, General Marsilio’s horse picked up speed and began thundering directly towards Girhur, whose eyes widened as he realized the force of the blow he was about to receive!

(https://i.imgur.com/yV0PwHR.jpg)

The horse battered into the dwarf to send him reeling and the general struck a deep blow with his sword, cutting Girhur’s face, then drew the blade back to thrust it right through the dwarf’s throat. It took the rest of the dwarfs a moment to realize their captain was dead, for they were occupied with the easy slaughter of the peasants, whose charge had been considerably less damaging than the general’s. Once they knew, a fury gripped them. Fury, however, did not make their legs longer, so when the surviving peasants turned to flee, as did the general now that the impetuous of his charge was spent, the dwarfs could not catch them!

The condottiere pike now steadied themselves as the enemy drew close. Some in the rear ranks witnessed General Marsilio’s flight, and a muttering spread through the regiment concerning whether or not they too should run. Why die for a cause when it is not only almost certainly lost but it is not your own? They fought for pay, not for the honour of Luccini. They saw to their left that their Sartosan counterparts had now engaged the peasants at the fence line …

(https://i.imgur.com/mg1bPQf.jpg)

… and it was immediately apparent that the enemy pike would feel little real resistance. To their right they saw that round-shot had smashed a substantial gap in the defences, killing several of the crossbowmen and a few of the peasants who had moved from the camp to stand near them.

Captain Bagnar Farq’s goblins were marching right up to that gap …

(https://i.imgur.com/89pGi6L.jpg)

… while the last of the crossbowmen and even Duke Ercole were now running away. The duke, not exactly spritely for his age, was not quick. Looking through the gap, the smartly dressed goblin Captain Farq could see the enemy wizard clearly and raised his cutlass as a sign that his crew should halt.

Loudly, he shouted, “Watch dis, lads!” and stepped forwards from the body to aim.

(https://i.imgur.com/fN3WWdk.jpg)

Pointing right at the wizard, with the confidence of knowing his magical bullets never missed …

(https://i.imgur.com/vSuqMGu.jpg)

… he pulled the trigger and watched with glee as the bullet did indeed strike the wizard. The evil grin was soon wiped from his face, however, when he saw that the wizard had not been killed and was still running.

“Bugger!” he shouted as he fumbled to find his powder flask to prepare for the next shot.

(Game Note: Auto hit, Strength 5 magical pistol, against a wizard already reduced to one wound due to enemy magic and shooting. The player rolled a 1 to wound!)

As the peasants broke on one side of them and the goblins now rushed past their captain (still fiddling with his pistol) to pour through the gap upon the other side, the pikemen dropped their eighteen foot burdens and joined in the general flight.

No-one was going to rescue King Ferronso today!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 19, 2020, 07:25:43 PM
New Friends for the Wicked
An Alley, Somewhere in Tilea, Winter, IC 2403-4

Baldassarr had known the meeting would not be pleasant. He had never heard anything good about the ratto uomo, only that they were foul, lice-ridden creatures, with invariably murderous intent. Yet despite the fear and disgust he knew he would most likely experience, he was sufficiently desperate to seek their assistance, for it was indeed murder he had in mind.

Why they had chosen to help him, he did not really know. His accomplice in crime, Naldo, had arranged the meeting, promising that he could trust them. They had apparently assisted Naldo with his own problem, being that of a rival cutpurse who had moved in on his domain. When Baldassar questioned their motive, Naldo had simply answered,

“The enemy of their enemy is their friend.”

“I can’t see why the ratto uomo bear some grievance against the Besutio gang,” said Baldassar.

His friend laughed as if the reason was obvious. “Everyone hated the Besutios!”

Right now, having laid eyes on the creature for the first time, he was having second thoughts on his choice of new ‘friends’.

(https://i.imgur.com/vH55O1y.jpg)

At first glance, the creature seemed to be half his size, but when he considered its squatting, hunched posture, he realised it was most likely at least as heavy as him, if not heavier. Its face was almost exactly like a rat’s, but its body and limbs much more like a man’s, albeit with a horribly large, fleshy tail sprouting from its back and matted fur covering much of the rest. It was clothed in little more than a ragged over-sized hood and had half a ratto uomo skull clamped oddly over the right-side of its long face. What had drawn Baldassar’s attention immediately, however, were the four heavy blades apparently sprouting from its clawed hands.

(https://i.imgur.com/VzHrObI.jpg)

He could not help but stare at them, and in so doing saw that they were bandaged to the back of the creature’s hands, leaving its fingers free to clutch and unclutch beneath. When the creature spoke he almost jumped with shock, not because of the strangeness of hearing a giant rat speak, or even the lilting timbre of its gravelly voice, but because whatever had intruded so suddenly into his nervous gaze upon the blades would have had the same effect.

“Balda-Baldasssssar?” said the creature, its coarse tongue fluttering in a quiver to hiss every sibilant component of its words. “Friend-accomplice of Naldo, yesss?”

“I am,” he said, unsure whether he should ask for the creature’s name - to do so seemed as preposterous as asking a dog or rat.

(https://i.imgur.com/0Kyonyo.jpg)

“You are, are you?” came the response as the creature looked him up and down with its red, seemingly pupil-less eyes. “No sharp-ssword? No pissstol? Yes?”

Baldassar felt his throat tighten and stomach knot as he wondered why it was asking him this. Then he remembered Naldo had told him to take nothing but a small knife.

“Only my knife,” he said, tapping the hilt protruding from behind his belt bag and beginning to wonder if he had made more than one very bad decision.

“Always knives, yess of course, always those,” said the creature, whilst its own four blades twitched and scraped, perhaps ensure Baldassar kept them in mind.

“Naldo said …” began Baldassar, then faltered.

“I know Naldo said-spoke this and that. I listened-heard,” said the creature. “You have enemies, nastiness, yess?  You want to cow-rule your corner of the nesst? With our aid-help you can-will. Naldo has his choice-pick of purses – no interference, no troublesome worries. Now you too, yess, want rid of trouble?”

Baldassar nodded. “The Scarria Brothers have been taking what is mine. People are paying them not me …”

The creature raised the back of one of its blades to its lips, as if to shush him.

“So ssad. Poor you. You want all the gold, yes?” The creature grinned, revealing its large, horribly sharp teeth. “You want me to slice-cut; chop and chop Sciarra into rot-corpses?”

“You could just scare them,” suggested Baldassar.

“No, not enough. Never enough. I kill-remove, yess? Then they are gone for good.”

“That would work too.”

“Yess. Best for all. You will be happy-glad, and I will feel satisfied in a job well done.”

“What of payment?” asked Baldassar. “What do you want from me in return?”

“Do not worry-concern yourself,” said the creature. “Naldo knows. You become my good friend, and when I need-require, you return the favour, yess?”

Baldassar frowned. “You want me to assassinate someone?”

The creature gave out a sound, part cackle, part giggle, yet wholly horrible to hear.

“No, no. I can always kill, easy, quick. You help, yess? You find, you open, you lure, you reassure. I am happy-willing to do the rest. No blood-mess for you.”

“Who do you want to kill?” asked Baldassar, immediately regretting his question.

“Later, my friend. So many choices to make. Put it from your mind-thoughts. These are things for me to worry about. Yess?”

Baldassar nodded.

“Now,” continued the creature, “you tell me where and you tell me when, then all your desire-dreams come true.”

Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on March 19, 2020, 07:39:43 PM
I’m hooked. Love - love that rat!
That battle before was a great write up too.

More-more!! 🐀
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on March 19, 2020, 07:48:01 PM
Dealing with giant rats, eh?  The only good giant rat is a dead one. :icon_wink: :icon_lol:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 19, 2020, 10:32:32 PM
Dealing with giant rats, eh?  The only good giant rat is a painted one. :icon_wink: :icon_lol:
FTFY
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 01, 2020, 09:03:04 PM
How to Fortify Against Death Itself?
Winter, IC 2403-4
South of the river Tarano, near the Bridge of Pontremola


A Conversation

(https://i.imgur.com/3u0OKeW.jpg)

“How are the works coming on?” asked Chimento Gagliardi, Lord Alessio’s chief clerk.

The siege master Guccio de Ieroldis looked up from the little book he had been studying, in which his predecessor had recorded all sorts of useful advice concerning the construction of a fortified camp. He had been so deep in thought he had not even noticed the clerk’s approach.

“Ahh, Master Chimento,” he said. “Well enough, although more labourers would speed the process.”

(https://i.imgur.com/35BJ79h.jpg)

“I have it on good authority you already have every available soldier,” said the clerk. “Those not here are busy guarding or scouting, as entirely necessary. Or resting, again a necessity. We must have a substantial force in perpetual readiness in case of an attack.”

The clerk wore a sleeveless fur lined gown, with paned sleeves on his doublet, all dyed in fashionably rich reds and purples. Only his velvet cap was in the quartered blue and white of Portomaggiore – his one concession to his current role. He was several inches shorter than Guccio, a fact exaggerated by the siege-master’s tall hat.

“Could we not have placed our earthworks closer to the river?” inquired Guccio. “For then we might have employed the water as a ready-made moat, improving our defences considerably? And we would have completed much sooner with a natural barrier already in place.”

“It was discussed in the council of war, but Lord Black thought it to be a foolish notion – that it might allow the undead to advance under cover of the water and so draw very close to our works before our bullets and bolts could thin their numbers.”

(https://i.imgur.com/zK6Vltc.jpg)

“I didn’t think of that,” admitted Guccio.

“Few did. Luckily we have Lord Black.”

“Aye, we do,” agreed Guggio. “Did no one in the council point out that should the river continue to flow so strongly, as to be expected in winter, that a good proportion of the undead so immersed would be washed away and thus never reach our walls?”

Master Chimento gave no immediate answer. Indeed, outwardly he seemed entirely unperturbed by the notion. Perhaps, thought Guccio, this is one of the reasons he has risen in Lord Alessio’s service? Finally, he did speak.

“I believe if we ensure they cannot pass over the bridge then they will indeed have to cross the river. Perhaps then, as you say, a good number will be washed away. Whatever force does emerge upon our side, we can then shoot.”

“I heard the city of Ebino is moated,” said Guccio, hoping to move the conversation on from the uncomfortable place he had taken it.

“Yes, it has both a deep moat and substantial walls. Not at all an easy prospect for assault. Lord Black saw it for himself and believes there was something stirring in the moat.”

“And thus Lord Black’s concern?”

(https://i.imgur.com/8QD1IHK.jpg)

“Yes.” There was the faintest trace of irritation in the clerk’s answer. “I was sent to ask what more needs to be done, and how long exactly until completion?”

“As you can see, the towers are finished, which is a good thing considering there’s no more suitable timber left. We are almost done here with the last of the earthworks. There’s a few stretches of earthworks yet to be dug, and quite a bit of palisading yet to be done, as you can see, but the stakes are cut and ready to be placed. I’d say sometime the day after tomorrow. Unless, of course, the general orders a modification or extension.”

“He might,” said the clerk, peremptorily.

“Oh. Is this not satisfactory?”

“There may well be more armies on their way to join us. Attacking the duchess and her foul legions is not something to be undertaken lightly, or when ill-prepared. Too many have come close to victory only to fail because the enemy escaped. We had a much greater force in Norochia Valley, and inflicted a great slaughter upon them, as did our riders to the north, yet still too many of them got away.”

Guccio nodded gravely. “They say that in the arch-lector’s battle not far from here, despite hundreds being cut down by the first charge, they simply got back onto their feet to fight on.”

“‘It is the nature of the foe to do so,” warned the clerk. “This time we must prevent their escape. Not one vampire can be allowed to leave the field. We must overwhelm them; destroy them entirely. Only then will our further advance northwards be bearable.”

(https://i.imgur.com/wzCgEiX.jpg)



Meanwhile, Another Conversation

“You reckon this is almost the last of it then?” said Fede, as he leaned upon his spade.

“I do,” said Berto, still shovelling soil.  “We turned a corner yesterday. There’s nowhere else to go. As soon as the palisade’s up along the full length, it has to be done.”

(https://i.imgur.com/guKgGCK.jpg)

“Good, ‘cos my back’s aching like never before and the blisters on my hands burn something rotten.”

“Better than the alternative,” Berto said.

Fede wiped his furrowed brow. “What?” he asked, bemused. “Better than marching about a bit or sitting by the fire warming our feet?”

Berto laughed. “No, better than going up ladders to face living corpses harbouring deadly intent.”

“Well, true,” admitted Fede. “Except now that we’ve built this and the corpses know we’re not going to attack the city, won’t they come to us anyway?”

Berto rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know. Chances are, they don’t know either. In which case, nobody knows.”

“Funny,” said Fede. “D’you at least know where Cola and Bandino are, ‘cos by my reckoning it’s their turn to do some shovelling.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ISX62r5.jpg)

“Cola went off to fetch more stakes, but Bandino’s over there by the wagon”.

“Where?”

Berto stopped work for a moment and pointed behind Fede. “See that boy you laughed at on the way over?”

Fede turned his head. “The skinny lad with the painted helm and the ill-fitting plackart.”

“And no other armour?” added Berto. “Yes, him.”

(https://i.imgur.com/1WA78gJ.jpg)

Fede snorted, as he had done when he first laid eyes on the boy. “I seriously doubt anyone in this world is less well equipped to strike fear into the undead foe than that boy.”

“Not gonna argue,” said Berto, recommencing his shovelling. “Look to the boy’s right.”

“Oh yes, there he is. What’s he doing?

“Call of nature!”

“He’s taking his time over it.”

“Well, it’s like he says, if a job’s worth doing …”

(https://i.imgur.com/MlS9n6M.jpg)

Fede laughed again. “I’d agree with him, if he was over here doing the job he’s meant to be doing.”

Berto paused again, this time with a serious look writ upon his face.

“D’you think they’ll come?” he asked.

“Aye, they will. It’s what they do. They can’t help themselves.”

“When?”

“Hopefully, after we’ve finished.”



Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 06, 2020, 09:25:42 PM
With Great Power Comes Great Destruction
Winter, IC 2303-4; Somewhere underground in northern Tilea

The Clan Skryre emissary was a particularly unimpressive specimen, more like a menial lackey than the sort of skaven likely to be granted an audience with a Grey Seer. This was, however, no surprise, as the engineers of Clan Skryre were notorious for being so lost in their machines’ arcane technicalities that they gave no thought at all to their appearance, and cared little more about appropriate manners and etiquette.

Seer-Lord Urlak Ashoscrochor knew, however, that Clan Skryre’s assistance was likely to prove vital to his strategy, and so attempted to give no hint of his annoyance at being spoken to directly by what appeared to be little better than a runt-slave.

(https://i.imgur.com/Lw9bcqG.jpg)

“Most high and noble Lord,” the messenger began as he fidgeted with the scroll clutched in his left hand, “I come with a great-important opportunity, offered most generous-kind to you first and fore-most before all other possible-likelihoods. My masters know full well that you will understand the potential-worth of this opportunity. They offer you a weapon more destructive than any before dream-conceived of, and yet now built-made and very real.”

The grey seer’s personal guard regiment, several companies of which were stood at the ready around the chamber, glared with apparent evil intent at the messenger.

(https://i.imgur.com/W3Kskm0.jpg)

Of course, this is nothing less than they would have done to anyone who came before them and their master, but that fact did not make the messenger any less nervous.

“Does it please you to listen-hear, noblest of lords?” the lowly engineer-apprentice asked.

"It pleases me well enough that your masters recognise the opportunity given-granted to them by my imminent victory conquests. So, speak-tell further of your masters’ offer!"

(https://i.imgur.com/CNoWyan.jpg)

The engineer-apprentice unrolled the thick paper of the scroll and held it up fixedly as if showing something marvellous.

(https://i.imgur.com/tE7fSHb.jpg)

“I see-spy only written scrawl,” said Lord Urlak dismissively, as if put the messenger in his place. “Why show me that?”

“These are promises and guarantees!” said the messenger, a little too enthusiastically, for his voice echoed about the rocky cavern and the regimented guards noticeably flinched as if readying to attack. The messenger winced in response.

(https://i.imgur.com/aJLfOlj.jpg)

“Please, I beg-plead, forgive my loud-noisiness, gracious and noble lord,” he continued. “This is written only so that you might confirm-know I speak truthfully. My masters have put mark-symbols here that you will see-recognise and know my words to be truly theirs.”

The grey seer narrowed his eyes to subtly signal his growing impatience. The engineer-apprentice rushed to continue.

“My most clever masters offer you this novel-new weapon in return for sufficient-suitable recompense. With it, you can kill your enemies.”

“My armies bristle with weapons. I have battalion-batteries of war-engines, all capable of killing my enemies.”

(https://i.imgur.com/sEwDJyo.jpg)

“Forgive again, most noble of lords. This kills better. This can kill all your enemies.”

"All?” said Lord Urlack. “It seems your masters have been working most busily. They have already grant-given many terrible war-engines, of which none have yet been unleashed upon my foe-enemies. When and if those machines fulfil their deadly promise then I shall already owe much to your masters …”

Here the Skaven lord fell silent for a moment, and glanced around the vast cavern chamber, as if considering who exactly was listening.

(https://i.imgur.com/AVx46gl.jpg)

“Of course, all will be carefully weigh-measured to ensure a give-and-take most fair and satisfactory. The spoils of war will be plentiful-bounteous. We shall feast-gorge on the fat of Tilea. It pleases me that your masters appreciate my conquest is a worthy investment. So worthy that here-now they offer me more!”

“As your ally-friends, your patron-providers, they wish you to be victorious,” said the messenger.

The Grey Seer fixed his eyes upon the engineer-apprentice, as if weighing him more carefully.

“Anyone with wit sufficient knows the cunning skill of Clan Skryre,” he said. “And I do not doubt-suspect your masters’ promise-claims. And yet, I must ask-inquire, what do they mean by a weapon never seen before? A weapon you said can kill all my foe-enemies?”

“Great lord, if used well and properly, the weapon will destroy Tilea one city at a time.”

(https://i.imgur.com/jxmxxNY.jpg)

“Entire cities? There are many and more stone walls standing between me and my great-glorious victory. And now that the most hated Dwarf-things are busy-stirring, as ever meddle-interfering, I have their mountains to contend with also. I can surely make good use of death-destruction, but will this weapon defeat the man-things’ stone walls and the dwarf-things’ mountain fastnesses?"

“Noblest of lords, this weapon does not need to smash-break walls or rocks, for it kills everything-all, leaving no-thing alive to hold-defend.”

“Lethal-venom? Deadly-poison?” inquired Lord Urlack, with a hint of barely contained glee in his voice.

(https://i.imgur.com/btYeSOP.jpg)

“This is quicker, great lord, much quicker. With one, single, exquisite blow, the weapon can blast-burn every living creature-thing within a hundred chebels.”

Lord Urlack pondered this for a moment, and the great cavern grew quiet. “An entire city,” he mused aloud, as he mentally pictured the dimensions of a typical Tilean city. Then his eyes widened. “Or an entire army!”

“As you wish-please, most noble lord,” said the messenger.

“Come, now,” commanded the Grey Seer as he stepped down from his rocky dias. “You and I must speak further concerning what exactly it is your masters desire in exchange for this marvel.”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on April 06, 2020, 10:36:48 PM
What craziness are the rat-things up to this time?
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 06, 2020, 10:42:11 PM
 :icon_biggrin: I'm kitbashing a strange new war engine for them. Very skaven. And probably very unstable!!  :engel:
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 06, 2020, 11:33:45 PM
Skaven are  naturally unstable/unbalanced, and thus their weapons/warmachines would be too.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 06, 2020, 11:40:28 PM
In my campaign I see them, or at least their leaders, more like Machiavellian 'Skegsi' types, forever tangled in their own political in-fighting, but capable of great cunning.

But yes, their technology, whilst possible of great effect, is always dangerously unstable.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on April 06, 2020, 11:47:54 PM
This new machine is sounding horrifyingly brilliant. Can’t wait to see it in action
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on April 12, 2020, 09:17:22 PM
The mind of the Skaven is an incomprehensible thing!

Love the latest stories, Padre. Stunning photos, too!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 12, 2020, 09:20:56 PM
Ha! Your message came through, Von Zorn, literally the very moment I was dabbing the last bit of paint on the new 'uber-weapon'. I'll send you some pics in a minute or two.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 30, 2020, 04:24:39 PM
(I keep forgetting to write this sort of thing: This piece was co-written with Ant, the player playing General Valckenburgh in my campaign. I am going to have to edit some previous posts to mention other players!)

Good Captain
Remas, Palazzo Montini (Official Residence of the Arch-lector of Morr), Winter 2403-4

General Jan Valckenburgh had entered the audience chamber accompanied by only one companion, Captain Wallenstein of his cuirassiers. Several of the arch-lector’s palace guards were stationed about the room’s periphery - at least two of them accompanied him at all times - but the only other person present was his holiness Bernado Ugolini himself. The absence of clerks, priests or advisers was intended to give the impression that the meeting was a private affair.

His holiness was seated upon a heavy and large chair, beside a long table. After greeting the two Marienburgers, he invited Valckenburgh to sit upon the only other chair. He made a fuss over ascertaining whether another chair ought to be brought for the captain, but Wallenstein said he preferred to stand.

It was late afternoon and sunlight poured almost horizontally through the windows to fashion a sedate shadow play from the halberdier guards, an effect engendered by the room’s stark and sparse decoration. Unlike most palazzos with their fantastical frescos and fine friezes, here the walls were plain, white-painted plaster. There were several hanging carpets of intricate designs placed at regular intervals, each woven with the exact same, geometric pattern. As such, they only added to the ambience of calm, meditative reflection.

(https://i.imgur.com/bvhcsFA.jpg)

All of this was deliberate. Upon election, the arch-lector had ordered the Palazzo Montini's garish walls and ceilings painted over, and the removal of nearly every statue, golden candelabra, painting and rug. He wanted his palace both to reflect and magnify the thoughtful serenity he yearned to achieve. And he had much thinking to do!

“I am very pleased that at last we meet, good general,” began the arch-lector. “I know full well what you have achieved in the south, your army single-handedly defeating Khurnag’s several forces and so preventing their further cruel incursions. I also know the prejudice of so many Tileans, and the unwarranted suspicions they harbour concerning your presence. Yet here you are now, in answer to both mine and Lord Alessio’s calls, with no obvious reward beyond knowing you will serve with the living against our greatest enemy. And yes, I am aware that even upon your journey northwards you were subject to slanderous slurs and entirely false accusations of plunder and murder. Yet even then you were willing to put aside your righteous anger, forsaking the opportunity to attain entirely justifiable revenge, and continue your march.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ADTyZnv.jpg)

“Indeed, your holiness,” said the general. “Some duties lie above all others, above our personal wants and desires. You, as a man of cloth, know this well. My duties here in Tilea rise above the slanders of petty burghers, and so we move past them.”

Referring to Duke Guidobaldo Gondi, princely ruler of one of the most important city states in Tilea, as a ‘petty burgher’, was an extraordinary slur which the arch-lector must surely have noticed. Yet he gave no hint of displeasure. Perhaps he understood the extreme bitterness the general rightly felt as a consequence of Guidobaldo’s actions, and so recognised the relatively impressive level of self-control required to limit the inevitable anger to such words alone?

“Although it may seem inappropriate for me to do so,” said Bernado, “for I am not the party who wronged you, nevertheless I wish to offer Tilea’s apology, being that of my own beloved flock, the followers of the three gods and the vast majority of the citizens and subjects of the realm. Duke Guidobaldo is but one man, howsoever many flaws he possesses, and I would not have you think badly of the entire realm because of his unforgiveable actions.”

The general nodded, graciously. “Thus I have discovered, your holiness. Many who dwell in this bountiful land have proved themselves most worthy and I sincerely hope to aid the nobles and the mother church restore peace and prosperity.”

(https://i.imgur.com/EWL2bFi.jpg)

“Your help is much appreciated, good general,” said the arch-lector. “I fully accept that there must be consequences for Duke Guidobaldo’s actions. Yet I see now that you can look beyond his crimes to the greater danger; that you recognise the need to deal with other, much more terrible threats than Guidobaldo’s dishonourable conduct. His actions will not be forgotten, nor forgiven - I do assure you. You have my word, General Valckenburgh, that when this war is won, I will consult with you concerning what procedures should be initiated and what recompense ought to be demanded of the duke.”

The general nodded, but it was the captain behind him who spoke.

“The army's officers will be glad to hear that promise, your holiness. Knowing that past wrongs are to be righted will help them  to concentrate upon that which must concern them now.”

(https://i.imgur.com/lpxNFwS.jpg)

“I should expect this promise will help all your soldiers in the battles to come,” offered the arch-lector. “I would not want them suspicious of their Tilean allies, especially when the lives of both hang in the balance.”

General Valckenburgh smiled. “You can put that worry from your mind, your holiness. We have many a Tilean in our army, from the lowliest sapper to the Lady Luccia la Fanciulla, the bearer of our Myrmidian standard, so we know Tileans can be honourable and brave. As for Duke Guidobaldo, I am satisfied with your suggestions. He can be suitably censured by the church when the great troubles are resolved, and until then it is a waste of all our efforts to pursue the matter. I would, however, hope your churchmen will use their influence to remind the more insular of their Pavonan flock that we are all allies against the terrible enemy.”

The arch-lector gave a wry smile. “I will instruct exactly that, but I would not get your hopes up concerning the sermonising of my Pavonan priests. They have certain schismatic tendencies, encouraged by the duke himself.”

(https://i.imgur.com/hlVUIi4.jpg)

“So, we’re not the only ones to be troubled by the duke’s games?” asked the captain.

“No, captain,” said the arch-lector. “Few who have had any dealings with Guidobaldo come away entirely unscathed. Yet … I know this can be no consolation to you, nor do I suggest it should, but I would at least have you know that his son, Lord Silvano, is cut from a very different cloth than that of his father. I believe him to be honourable to a fault. Indeed, such is his proper obedience, his lack of selfishness and guile, that I doubt he can even see his own father’s faults. Lord Silvano has faced many enemies, remaining steadfastly true to his word, and even when defeated and pursued from the field, he yet returns willingly to fight again. Even his own men hid their treachery from him when the ogres were attacked at Viadaza – presumably they knew he would order them to desist if he learned their intentions. I have supped and marched with him, witnessed his bravery in battle, and I believe I know him well. Let not the sins of the father be visited upon the son.”

The general sighed. “Lord Silvano has without doubt demonstrated his bravery,” he said, “and his loyalty to his family is without question. Yet, your holiness, I advise caution, for he could be more dangerous than his father. Cunning and bravery combined make for a great prince - one all others should be most wary of.”

(https://i.imgur.com/X0baxhA.jpg)

“Cunning?” asked the arch-lector.

“What we see is what Lord Silvano wants us to see. How better to avoid all censure for a mutiny than to appear not only ignorant of it but also to have very convenient proof of one’s own absence while it occurred? And think how well it serves his father that he can gain grateful friends for the princely heir of Pavona even while his father continues heinous crimes?”

“You think his very character is mere pretence?” asked the arch-lector, a note of incredulity evident in his tone.

“I cannot know for certain, your holiness. But it has proven very convenient for his father. I spoke at length to Lord Silvano and found him far too eloquent to be considered a naive youth, and too keen to present his father’s numerous misdeeds in a good light to be entirely honest. His excuses and justifications were neatly crafted, like a lawyer’s speech before a judge. He appeared to be more of a skilful, even duplicitous diplomat than, as you suggest, a guileless youth.”

The arch-lector nodded slowly. “I shall keep your words in mind, good general, upon future occasions,” he said. Changing tack, he asked, “What do you know of the tyrant Boulderguts’ whereabouts?”

(https://i.imgur.com/UVS23Df.jpg)

“Little that is certain, which troubles me. I have learned what is commonly said to be the case but have no way of knowing if it is true. It was this consideration that led me to follow my elected route of march, being farther east than I might otherwise have traveled, in the hope that I could intercept the ogres if they attempted to skirt Lord Alessio’s army. And although my army’s scouts are adequate to the task of supporting a marching column, I lack the numbers required to scour the entire eastern reaches of Tilea.”

The arch-lector nodded. “For brutes they have proved to be a surprisingly nimble foe, and slippery to boot. However, my advisers are unanimously of the opinion that Boulderguts has departed Tilea, making his way across the mountain passes to the Border Princes, whence he came. Reports from the vicinity of the Via Nano confirm this. Still, this does not mean he no longer presents a threat. We must not be careless, for he could return to seek plunder where he found so much before – a prospect that can only grow more likely as time passes and his haul of loot diminishes. At present, however, we must contend with new robbers. No doubt you have heard how the Sartosans have brutally raped Luccini? It is almost certain they have their eyes set upon more prizes, especially as every city state is either sapped of strength by the ongoing wars or unprotected because their armies have marched north. I heard that their commander, Volker, is a Marienburger? Is this true?”

“Of course, I’ve heard of Volker,” answered the general. “And it does seem likely he hails from Marienburg. The VMC is a merchant company. As such, we make a point of learning what we can of all pirates, especially if they might prove detrimental to our enterprises. But I have never dealt personally with this particular one. As is so often the case, he was probably a mere sea artist or mate, rather than a captain or merchant, who mutinously turned to piracy. Not the sort of fellow I would know.”

“By your leave, general?” asked the captain.

“Speak your mind,” said Valckenburgh.

The captain turned to the arch-lector. “I do no doubt, your holiness, the Sartosans could be more than a mere thorn in our side, and that while Boulderguts lives he too remains a threat, but surely the vampire duchess presents the most immediate and greatest danger? No-one would happily turn their back on the Sartosans, but do we have a choice?”

“I do not believe we do,” said the arch-lector. “The pirates should be scattered for years to come by just one powerful blow, and in time that will be done I am sure. Much more than that is needed to rid Tilea of the undead. Despite defeating them several times, their evil only grows. For them, all our victories have proved to be nothing more than minor setbacks. They never want for soldiers and they know no fear, for they are blasphemy made flesh by foul conjurations.”

There was a moment’s silence as the arch-lector became lost in thought, a frown fixed upon his face, his eyes glazing as if he no longer saw the others in the room.

“Your holiness,” said the general. “My army can help to contain them, in the field or in their fastnesses, but only the church or colleges have the power to provide any lasting answer. Weight of numbers is sufficient merely to check their further advances, and that only for a time. We have need of holy intervention or arcane magics if we are truly to destroy them. Either that or the aid of great heroes of legend.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ioqlnyT.jpg)

“The latter I am afraid we lack, despite a crowd of great villains. Even an army of cultists, painfully dedicated in body and soul to Morr, failed against them. I not only pray for guidance daily,  but have consulted the wisest maestros and wizards Remas has to offer. Only yesterday I met with Angelo da Leoni, who spoke concerning the manifestation and magnification of purifying flames to burn the vampires’ armies, their leaders amongst them, unto their very core, obliterating even the wicked spirits possessing their bodily frames, yet finally admitting his want of the necessary ingredients for such, and great doubt concerning whether such could ever be successfully and safely brought to bear.”

“An answer is needed, your holiness. Otherwise all our sacrifices might prove to be in vain. And this is not all we must contend with. Lord Alessio has sent word to me twice of Skaven sightings - armies, he said, although apparently small.”

The arch-lector nodded gravely. “It is true,” he said. “I have received the same intelligence from Captain Soldatovya, commanding the Remans who march with the Portomaggiorans. He himself saw one of the tunnel mouths and his own scouts saw one of the armies. Small, as you say. Perhaps nothing more than a raiding party? Or the ragged remnant of some faction fleeing a far-off civil war?”

“You have reason to think so?” asked the general.

“No, good general, I only have hope that it is so. If they are the vanguard for something bigger then their arrival could be the last straw for Tilea.”

“They are vile threat,” spat Valckenburgh, his particular hate for them being obvious. “Much worse than orcs, perhaps more so than the ogres and undead. They’re an insidious and infectious foe who must be purged in all instances.”

Perhaps the arch-lector was reminded of a certain predecessor’s infamous pact with the ratto uomo? If so, he hid it well, simply saying, “I have tasked several scholars with looking into how we beat them in ages past.”

The captain almost laughed.

“I wonder,” he asked, “Back then, were the Tileans fighting ogres, vampires and Sartosans as well as the ratmen?”
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 03, 2020, 05:48:02 PM
A Wallenstein in charge of cuirassiers ... intersting.

I'm going to make believe that he is descended from Captain Von Wallenstein of Crisis in Marienburg, 2201 era.
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 18, 2020, 02:32:50 PM
Keep Going!
Somewhere in the mountains of north Tilea, Winter 2403-4

Fricknar had never in all his cruelty-filled life undertaken a journey as difficult as this. They were in such a hurry that they were not allowed to stop for more than a few moments at a time. So far, six nights and five days of almost perpetual motion, a relentless succession of step, step, step; eating, even excreting, on the move. Every now and again he would have to run ahead to shovel something quickly - filling a hole or flattening a lump. Invariably, just as he completed the labour, the trundling engine caught up he was required to move on again.

(https://i.imgur.com/dX2XLfb.jpg)

In his bones he knew that should he continue at this pace another day then it would also become the most painful time of his life, not just the hardest journey. He had been badly beaten three times as a pup, and on the last occasion, as he lay battered and dazed, another pup from his own litter had eaten one of his fingers! He had been wracked with a burning pain in his lungs for countless days when he took a mouthful of warpstone vapour after an manufactory accident. He had been imprisoned in a near airless cage for more than a week as punishment for an infraction he never understood, starved of food and nauseously dizzied by the swinging motion of the cage every time someone pushed it (which many did and often). Right now, his pain and anguish were building up to rival all those past experiences, and by tomorrow, would surely overtake them.

His last task had been to assess the quality of a warpstone batch being offered by a small clan who had acquired it by (the usual) nefarious means. It had been flawed, but still useful, and a price was offered. Before he learned whether the purchase was successful, however, he been ordered to return with all haste to the workshops. Immediately upon doing so, he was assigned this new task - no time for explanations, no rest nor repast, but straight to work.

By the end of the first day he realised he knew none of the engine’s other attendants. Since then there had been little chance to get to know them, what with the incessant motion. Escorting the engine was an all-encompassing task, leaving little time anything else. The tunnels they had travelled through, despite being large, had been irregularly proportioned, in both width and height, and the ground uneven, scattered with tumbled rocks from crumbling walls. Here and there, roots had penetrated the ceiling, and stalagmites and stalactites had been allowed to form along the dampest stretches. Sometimes there was a way around such obstacles, but often they had to be cleared – lifted, hacked or chipped away – and his shovel was a necessary part of nearly all these tasks.

(https://i.imgur.com/EdN4cjk.jpg)

Their orders were clear, and in no uncertain terms: the engine must not collide or scrape against anything, nor should it jolt more than a little, and it should certainly never be allowed to list or careen. Most importantly, it must never stop.

It was possibly the most demanding assignment ever given to anyone, anywhere, at any time.

For a little while he had occupied his mind with attempting to work out whether the attendant who invariably walked in front of the engine, clutching a staff tipped with what appeared to be a fine shard of warpstone …

(https://i.imgur.com/Lm2spas.jpg)

… or the engine’s driver were responsible for setting the pace, whilst also taking on board the possibility the engine itself might be most to blame. Before he had come to a decision, however, distraction and exhaustion had shattered such trivial considerations.

(https://i.imgur.com/2vgbsrb.jpg)

Now, here in a mountain valley between two tunnel-stretches, on the widest path yet traversed, with no walls or ceiling to concern him, only the ground itself, Fricknar was able to loosen and lift his mask just a little to allow in a breath or two of fresh air, and at long last, he had the chance to talk.

(https://i.imgur.com/c1T8nEa.jpg)

He had questions to ask.

Turning to the attendant closest to him, a red-hooded fellow carrying a tubular locking tool which could loosen any of several bolts on the engine and in the other hand what appeared to be a small gear wheel (presumably ready to replace some potentially defective part) he said,

“I heard we have gift-given much and more to the lord of Foul Peak. Why give this also? Why more and more?”

(https://i.imgur.com/qK8HyEG.jpg)

“Not gifts, no,” said his companion in a whining voice muffled by his mask. “All and everything will be paid for.”

“That matters not,” said Fricknar.

“It matters a lot,” countered the other.

“Yes, yes, to our masters, to the clan. I know-understand,” said Fricknar. “I mean it matters not to what I ask-enquire. Why give him more? Why this most novel, expensive engine? I heard his army has yet to fight one-single battle. His warriors have neither proved themselves capable nor wanting. Yet we fetch-bring such a reinforcement. Why?”

“You do not know-understand what this can do. You did not slave-work on its construction.”

“No, not I,” Fricknar admitted. “I know the quality-worth of warpstone, and I can keep an engine on the move.” He waved his shovel as if to prove the point.

“You have never moved such a one as this.”

Despite having studied the engine on several occasions over the last days, for want of much else to look at during the few moments he had not needed to watch the road, Fricknar looked again.

(https://i.imgur.com/tu0g2am.jpg)

“I see only a doomwheel, like many others, with a murdering piece fix-attached,” he said.

“Yes, yes, you see that,” scoffed the other. “But what murder this can do. This kills many and much more than anything we have yet made. This might perhaps kill more than any single weapon has ever-ever killed!”

Fricknar looked at the engine again.

(https://i.imgur.com/3zUvnff.jpg)

“It throws a bomb, yes?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” said the other. “A bomb. One bomb.”

“A poisoned-wind grenado?”

“It throws poison-death, yes, but not wind-vapours. The bomb inside is a thick shell of perfect-pure warpstone, two half-pieces fastened tight-together, and inside that inside is the finest ground-powdered warpstone, the making of which killed many hundred slaves, admixed with black powder in exact and most potent proportion-measure; precise and finely fused to explode the merest moment before touching the ground, which it must-must do, to release flesh-burning death to wash for a hundred and more chebels in each and every direction.”

“Warp-fire?”

“Yes, at first, but then much farther, a pure and poisonous etheric heat, burn-scalding all and only living flesh to a blistered crisp.”

Fricknar fell silent for a while. He had to think this through, for what he had heard did not sit well with his past experiences. Not well at all.

“Precise and finely fused, you spoke-said?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” said the other. “Most and definitely very necessary.”

“And if, despite your careful care, it explodes too too soon?”

“Think, fool!” said the other, with a snarling hiss Fricknar could sense despite the mask and hood hiding his companion’s face.

He did not need to think. “Too too soon,” said Fricknar, “and we die too.”

“Yes!” said the other, loudly. “If even only a little too soon, then it will not be where we need-want it to be. It must be at the heart of the city. A moment too late and too much heat will pierce the ground - wasteful, for you cannot kill what is already dead.”

“This kills a city?”

“A city. An army,” said the other, a note of arrogant, easy pride in his voice. “Perhaps more?”

Fricknar’s fearful apprehension was now transforming into admiration. Then something occurred to him.

“Where are the bombs?” he asked.

“Are you deaf? Do you not listen-hear?” mocked the other. “You mean where is the bomb?”

Fricknar did not understand. Was that not what he had asked? There was just the engine, no carriage, wagon or slaves to bear a limber of any kind. He had absently assumed that the ammunition must already be at their destination, but hearing his companion’s description suggested such a cargo would be too rare and precious to be merely stockpiled elsewhere.

The bomb,” said the other, emphasising the singularity, “is inside. It broil-brews, always and now, growing more and more potent by the hour. To haul-carry it separately would mean by the time we tried to load it into the engine all who came near-close would die immediate-quickly.”

This made no sense to Fricknar. “But we are nearby, and for days?”

“Yes, yes. The iron barrel enclosing it is thick-strong and inscribed inside with most potent-effectual sigillic wards, perfectly carved.”

(https://i.imgur.com/E1RiKsb.jpg)

Fricknar could imagine the carver squirming inside the barrel to carve such sigils - a suffocating, claustrophobic trial undoubtably far worse than his time in the cage.

“Could not a container-chest be made with such thickness or more?” he asked. “Such sigils? And better sealed tight-secure?”

“Yes, yes it could. No doubt. More easily made. More safely carried. But think, to load the murdering piece we would have to remove the bomb from the chest after it had broil-brewed for the whole journey. Impossibly intolerable.”

“Could slaves not be ordered to do so? Or some monstrous creation of Clan Moulder?”

“No, no, never. They would die the very instant the chest was breached.”

Fricknar glanced back at the engine.

“And dead slaves and ogres cannot load anything,” he said almost to himself. Then, louder, he asked, “So the sigil-wards prevent all harm leak-spilling out?”

“Not all, no,” said the other, as if it were obvious.

Of course, Fricknar should have known this. He pulled his loosened mask tight again, immediately regretting every breath of ‘fresh’ air he had taken. No skaven workshop ever made anything completely safe. The ever-present fear of punishment meant there was always haste as corners were cut, mistakes were inevitably concealed, and tests were deemed a pointless exercise when something was already completed. If it is built, use it! Worse still, most engines were made before the principles were even fully understood, so that the very design had flaws before even the first component part was assembled. None of those who invented or fashioned such engines cared a jot for the fate of those who would be ordered to use them; besides, once one engine was taken, they were immediately busy with the next, then the next.

“It is impossible to prevent it all, for it is far too potent, and grows ever more so,” the other continued. “Why do you think the engine never stops? It cannot be allowed to. If it did then too, too much of its etheric heat would concentrate-congeal in one single place. Then there would be none left to move it.”

Fricknar was confused again. “We have our masks, our waxed robes, our cylinder-filters, yes. But look here, these clanrats, they have guard-escorted us so, so far, even through the long tunnels. Why are they not dead or dying?”

There were two bands of guards, one marching before the engine, which included a weapons team armed with a rattling gun …

(https://i.imgur.com/3mhbo6x.jpg)

… and another lot behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/9JzNgUN.jpg)

“You did not witness-see the changing?” asked the other.

“What changing?”

“Yes, the changing. You must have been labour-working, up ahead clearing away the tangle-mass or the shattered shards of dripping rocks. These are not the guards we began the journey with.”

Fricknar knew he was exhausted and distracted, but he had not realised just how much he had failed to notice. Yet, he thought, his point still stood.

“Then I ask, these-here new guards, why are they not dead?”

“Hush! They will be soon enough. If there are no more changings, some perhaps will die before we arrive at Foul Peak. They have only lasted this long because we have not stopped.”

“No, wait,” demanded Fricknar, having spotted a flaw in the other’s arguments. “I know there is little truth-sense in your words. Those two, there, with the rattler, they have been here with us from the start. They have no robes or masks.”

(https://i.imgur.com/mMNJ2Y3.jpg)

“But they always scuttle-run ahead, as ordered, never behind, never in the engine’s wake-trail. This buys them time. Remember how they were on the first day? Yes? Look close now and you will see how they flag, how they stumble-stall. Look closer and you will see how their skin peels and their fur falls in lumps. Look into their eyes and you will see that death already tugs at their tails.”

Fricknar was getting frustrated by the frantic insanity of his companion’s words. Whatever answers they contained, there were always more questions. Even now, something bugged him.

“You say before we arrive at Foul Peak?” he asked. “How can we arrive if we cannot stop? How can our journey end? Are we to use this weapon against Foul Peak?”

“No, not there. Against the lord of Foul Peak’s enemies. Do you never listen-hear?”

“I will hear your answer,” said Fricknar, his anger momentarily mastering his fear. “How can we arrive at Foul Peak?”

“We shall arrive soon enough, but this does not mean we shall stop-stay, only pass through, there to be joined by more and others, to learn where we must go next, and so continue, on and on.”

This was impossible, thought Fricknar. He had a day left in him, perhaps another if his fear could dominate his pain to keep him on his feet.

“How can we continue?” he complained. “It is impossible! Our legs will be worn to nothing-nubs if we try.”

“All is prepared and arranged by our masters and the lord of Foul Peak,” said the other. “New attendants await the engine at the mountain. We will be allowed to rest-lie upon litters, to be carried on at some remove.”

“And then?”

“Then we will be command-ordered back to the engine. If we are fortunate-lucky we will be attending when it fires.”

“Lucky?” spat Fricknar. “How is there any good fortune in taking such a risk?”

“To watch it work. To see-witness a whole city killed or an entire army obliterated!”

(https://i.imgur.com/tJa0sH7.jpg)


Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 18, 2020, 04:02:25 PM
Great stuff! :icon_biggrin: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on May 29, 2020, 10:07:46 PM
Intrigue, glorious intrigue 😺. Re: 2posts back between the General and the arch lector. I seem to have gotten behind by 2
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on May 29, 2020, 11:39:55 PM
Quote Padre: “I know there is little truth-sense in your words.

There is a quote worthy of this time.
Hurry Padre, hurry with the next instalment. I promise I will not wait to read it!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 30, 2020, 11:20:46 AM
I have two installments in my head already, but there's the matter of 6 highly detailed individual player reports to write first!!!! I'm doing what I can (painting and modelling on hold to force me to write, write, write.)

BTW, Thank you GP and Artoban for your words of encouragement!

Padre
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 12, 2020, 05:35:17 PM
A Letter from Antonio Mugello to the most noble Barone Iacopo Brunetti, Regent of Verezzo

As I wrote unto my beloved Lord Lucca (may he sit beside Morr in the garden of eternal summer) to impart what little I had learned of events throughout Tilea, so humbly I send this missive to you. My love for Lord Lucca and my loyalty to Verezzo are now offered to you, noble lord, for you have been a faithful servant of the first and have become the guardian of the latter.

I have been lodged in Remas throughout the winter, a place most conducive to the garnering of knowledge concerning the whole of Tilea. Sometimes I witness the events themselves. A month ago, I myself witnessed the arrival of the army of the VMC, led by General Valckenburgh, who had given up the siege of Pavona. I know not what you have heard concerning the VMC but presume that Duke Guidobaldo’s accusation that they were behind Lord Lucca’s murder and the looting of Spomanti must be painfully well known to you. From what I have learned, my lord, it seems to be generally accepted, at least here in Remas, that Duke Guidobaldo lied, and was himself responsible for the unforgiveable deed. My Lord Lucca warned me on several separate occasions concerning Duke Guidobaldo’s duplicitousness, and it gives me nothing but great sadness to know that his words are - post mortem - further proof of his great wisdom.  Furthermore, in the last missive I received from my Lord Lucca he informed me that he had met with General Valckenburgh and found him to be a most honourable officer, who had marched north out of an earnest desire to assist in the defeat of the terrible foe. Lord Lucca was rarely, if ever, mistaken in his judgement of another, and I can see no reason to suppose he was mistaken regarding the general.

This, of course, explains recent events, most obviously General Valckenburgh’s siege of Pavona. He must have been furious to be slandered in such a way – angry enough to lure him from his march north to face the vampires threatening every living soul in Tilea. I have heard some in Remas voice their confusion as to why Valckenburgh did not complete what he had begun at Pavona, for Guidobaldo’s actions and subsequent lies were no less than a declaration of war, but (if you will allow me to offer mine own humble opinion) the answer seems clear to me. While we, who have suffered the loss of our dear lord at the Pavonan duke’s hands can feel only an enduring, righteous anger, General Valckenburgh personally suffered slander alone, and as his fury had time to subside (as ours can never do) he must have decided that the pursuit of satisfaction regarding what in another time would be a serious matter, seemed relatively petty in light of the great threat offered by the vampire duchess.

And so it is that Valckenburgh’s army is now camped here in the realm of Remas, apparently intending to rest a while. Perhaps they are waiting for Spring before recommencing their march? Or their halt might well be part of some grand strategy jointly agreed by the arch-lector of Morr, Lord Alessio Falconi and General Valckenburgh? I cannot know. It does strike me, and others too, as odd that Valckenburgh has now allowed himself to be delayed yet again, having only just overcome the anger that previously delayed him. Some say he is too easily distracted, but I believe, considering that which I am yet to relate to you, that he has more material concerns to factor in to his strategies, such as the reports of ratto-uomo forces and tunnel mouths north of the Trantine Hills, as well as the razing of Luccini and kidnapping of King Ferronso by the pirates of Sartosa.

By your leave, noble Barone, I will attempt to address these concerns, and more, in turn.

It is now commonly known in Remas that the ratto uomo are once again stirring in Tilea, what with Lord Alessio’s army discovering several entrances to huge tunnels north of the Trantine Hills, and even sighting verminous forces marching above ground. I cannot know what was said in the official missives, nor even if much more detail was contained therein, but enough Reman soldiers marching with Lord Alessio have sent word to their families and friends for the news to have spread. Perhaps unsurprisingly, knowing the cowardly nature of the ratto uomo (unless amassed in great strength) those forces fled back into the tunnels to avoid giving battle. Yet, the fact that they are openly active has begun to cause considerable consternation in a city with a somewhat chequered history of dealing with the verminkind. It has long been presumed in Tilea that ratto uomo always lurk in the shadows, whispering manipulative lies, stealing valuables, sewing discord and disease. Some say that all those who dwell within a city’s walls are never more than two dozen yards from a rat-man! But it has been many a decade since verminkind have marched in strength within sight of men rather than concealed underground or in barren places while embroiled in their interminable civil wars.

Continued after the following story

………………………………………………………………

Such a Shame-Waste!
Somewhere in Tilea, End of Winter, IC 2403-4

(https://i.imgur.com/sq9Z6nc.jpg)

In the night’s quietest hour, in the city’s loneliest corner, several assassins, sharp of tooth and claw, were inspecting their work.

“A job very well done, master, yes?” said one, still clutching the heavy blade he had pommelled one of their victims with before strangling the man.

(https://i.imgur.com/B8JGGSv.jpg)

“They are dead,” said the master. “Which was our aim-desire, so yes, if it pleases you, heap congratulations where and how you like. But this here is nothing but a beginning-start. Here lie the foundations of that which we shall make-forge. No, not that … the first cracks in that which we will destroy. Yes, that’s better.”

The first looked at the sword now prominently lodged in the other corpse, his eyes then flicking to scrutinise the ragged edge of his own blade.

“Master,” he said, “forgive, but that blade is good and sharp - such a shame-waste to leave it here.”

(https://i.imgur.com/PSHCoJK.jpg)

“The sword stays. We must-need ensure the menthings think-believe their own kind did this.”

“Yes, not us, never us,” hissed the first. He prodded his own victim with his taloned foot. “Yet master, a mere-nothing thought, but this one here has a knife. Would that not suit-satisfy?”

The master seemed to have a mind to be generous.

“It might just do,” he agreed. “But no, I like the sword. It draws the eye. A knife is but a small thing and gives but small ideas - the tool of petty-squabbling thieves, too easily dismissed as bloody vengeance between the basest of men-things. This sword tells another story, for it is the kind the men-thing guards carry. Let their captains think-believe their own guards bear the blame for this naughtiness.”

“So very clever master, yes. Yet could not a soldier dispatch-kill such as these and be proud, boasting of his most satisfactory work?”

“A soldier might boast, had any one of them done this,” said the master.

(https://i.imgur.com/kNl5fU3.jpg)

“But none of them did, and so none will make such a claim. Then the captains will think-believe their command-control is weak, and that they know not what their own soldiers do.”

“Yes, Master,” said the first, finally giving up on his petty quest to obtain the sword.

“Now,” ordered the master, “look and look again. Make certain-sure there is no sign of our presence here.”

The first looked at the corpses and then around them.

“There was only your throwing star where now instead the sword is stuck-pierced,” he said. “This man-thing I squeeze-strangled, and he but scrape-scratched at me, pathetic-weak.”

“Look again, make certain-sure,” commanded the master. “Nothing dropped. No fur under his nails. No paw print marking the ground.”

The first hunched down and looked closer. He was getting nervous, as could be seen from the raised fur on the back of his neck.

“Master, forgive, but do we not linger-stay here too long?” he asked. “If the men-things come they will see us ourselves, not just that we leave-drop behind, and they will know all.”

“Hush-quiet,” snapped the master. “I am no half-wit fool. I chose this spot. I chose this time. No-one will come. Four nights this place was quiet-empty. Besides, look, look,” he gestured at the guards stationed all around them, “we have eyes to see and ears to hear all around.”

(https://i.imgur.com/mnEPNS9.jpg)

“If anyone approaches,” the master continued, “we shall know in plenty-enough time to make our escape. Now, make haste, and be sure there no sign-clue of our presence.”

………………………………………………………………

Antonio Mugello’s letter continued

On more than one occasion I have heard it voiced that this resurgence of the ratto uomo could spell the end of all civilisation in Tilea, for if this is a new offensive, then it has begun just as the whole peninsula lies exhausted and weakened by the ongoing war against the vampires, having only recently emerged from several conflicts – the War of the Princes, the scattering of Khurnag’s Waagh and a veritable battering at the hands of Boulderguts’ brutes. There simply might not be sufficient strength remaining in Tilea to resist the ratto uomo hordes. Fearful rumours are rife concerning what diseases they might already be spreading, who they are about to assassinate, and which foolish rulers they have lured into a false alliance? In Remas, the memory of arch-lector Ordini’s ignominious deal remains a scab upon the city’s reputation. Is it any surprise the Remans are openly asking which madman has called upon the verminkind’s aid, perhaps hoping to attain the upper hand in some petty squabble, to gain vengeance or to retrieve some lost power? Since time immemorial there have always been fools who believe they can benefit from such a foul alliance.

I myself have heard a myriad of theories and list the following not merely to repeat malicious gossip nor to revel in rumour, but to give the mind of the people, as it may contain more than one kernel of truth. I will address some of the most likely first, in that they concern wicked powers who would feel no compunction at allying with the likes of the ratto oumo.

Have the Sartosans made an agreement of some sort? Would such sea dogs baulk at the idea of sharing the spoils with sewer rats, if not to do so could mean no spoils at all? The very fact that both appeared at one and the same time seems in itself to link them. Just as the Sartosans ravaged Luccini, the ratto uomo appeared skulking at new tunnel mouths, so that those in between could not know which way to look! If divided, we may well be more easily conquered or robbed.

Has the vampire duchess, now hard-pressed by the gathering armies of Tilea, offered the ratto uomo some portion of the peninsula in return for luring away the armies currently threatening her? I do not pretend to know the mind of a vampire, and despite the noble trappings and haughty demeanour many adopt, I cannot dismiss the possibility that they might stoop so low as to bargain with verminkind. There seems to be no wickedness that vampires are not capable of, and thus only their evil pride might dissuade them. Much is known of Duchess Maria in life, but all we can know now is that in undeath she is surely not at all the same. Anyone who surrounds themselves with a putrid court of rotting corpses cannot be so particular as to refuse to meet with flea-ridden vermin.

Several noblemen (of which there are not that many in Remas since the uprisings) have suggested that the VMC, ruled by greed alone, has signed a secret contract in which they carve up Tilea between themselves and the verminkind - the VMC to rule the south while the ratto-uomo ruin the north. I heard one signore say this would explain why the army of the VMC has marched north so leisurely, allowing itself to be easily distracted. It may well be to their advantage that Lord Alessio’s Portomaggioran and Reman army bears the brunt of the fight against the vampire duchess, for then both Portomaggiore and the Remas can be all the more easily subdued afterwards. Furthermore, claimed the nobleman, the real reason General Valckenburgh lifted the siege or Pavona was because he saw such a ruined realm as a waste of effort, and wanted to keep his army strong to defeat the weakened Portomaggioran and Reman armies, then to seize much richer realms instead. I can say that I saw real fear in the eyes of those who listened to this signore’s words, for all must have suddenly suspected the army of the VMC’s prolonged encampment at Remas was nothing more than an opportunity to rest and reconnoitre before seizing the city for themselves. Those fearful people had not Lord Lucca’s wise counsel to guide them, but of course, had I spoken my mind, then as a Verezzan rebutting a Reman gentleman, they would not have heard me.

I even heard one fellow, Pavonan by his accent, say that the dwarfen king in the mountains has made a pact with the verminkind, to bring about an end to their meddling in the dwarfs’ mines. I voiced my doubt, telling the man that the dwarfs of Karak Borgo have always craved trade, and the sort of destruction the ratto uomo cause would not be at all conducive to such. He just laughed, saying that would be presuming the king of the dwarfs is in command of his wits, whilst his companion spat and declared no dwarf could be trusted.

Mention of these Pavonans brings me to a matter I must address, but I would first have you know that I have attempted to consider this dispassionately, as would an entirely uninterested observer, despite the fact that it concerns the murderer of our beloved master.

I have no doubt that the following intelligence is known to you, what with your closer proximity to Pavona, but it is clear that Duke Guidobaldo’s realm has suffered dreadfully during the winter, both due to its precarious state after being ravaged by the ogres and then as a consequence of the army of the VMC’s siege. Duke Guidobaldo’s own army is said to be fragmenting – indeed only yesterday I saw with mine own eyes some of Reman bravi who marched away with the Pavonans (to become notorious for the raid on Spomanti), back here upon the streets of Remas. Such mercenary bravi could hardly be expected to honour their contract with Pavona when there is nothing but misery and hunger for them there. The Pavonan people are now sadly starving, for the duke took food from them to feed his soldiers. Furthermore, he has defaulted on so many loans over the last years that not one banking family is prepared to do business with him, and traders demand payments of gold in advance. What will come of all of this, I know not. Possibly his own subjects will revolt, turning against him, or perhaps he will resort again to acts of piracy and murder? Maybe his realm will simply diminish and fade into obscurity?

Or, and this is what plagues my nightmares, perhaps he thinks to regain his power and wealth by means of a verminous pact? Could it be that Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona - desperate as he is, humiliated, his pride in shatters, his realm suffering, known to be capable of such lies and treachery as would put the ratto uomo to shame - could it be that it was he who summoned the verminkind?

Of course, as yet it is unknown whether the ratto uomo will indeed amass in any strength; nor whether they intend a minor interference or a major incursion; nor whether they have in mind the destruction of the whole of Tilea of just some part thereof.

What is known for certain, however, is that the Vampire Duchess has yet to be defeated. Twice before she has sent armies south of Ebino, and it has taken battle after battle to prevent her further advance. Her aggressiveness is proven – if she is not destroyed then she will almost certainly send forth her armies again and again until she has the whole peninsula beneath her foul feet.

All the reports coming from the Reman soldiers under Lord Alessio’s command agree that Duchess Maria once again resides in Ebino. The walled and moated city teems with her undead servants. Every tower parapet is guarded by unblinking eyes. Every tomb, grave and burial pit in Ebino and Miragliano lies empty, the occupants now busied in the duchess’s service.

Continued after the following story, which is in the next post!
Title: Re: Tilean Campaign, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 12, 2020, 05:37:50 PM
Glee!
Near the city of Ebino, at the end of Winter, IC 2403-4

This day, this very moment, felt like a culmination of Biagino’s life and undeath, as if everything that had happened to him, good and bad, joyful and sad and everything he had ever done, decent and dire, kind and cruel, led to this moment. Not the culmination, for it was not the end of his undeath, but it was a destination he had, until now, howsoever unwittingly, always been heading towards.

Once more he was directly serving his beloved mistress, and he knew her satisfaction. He strove ecstatically to do whatsoever she wished, and better still, he knew exactly what that was. When leading the army at Trantio he had only the memory of her commands to guide him, which meant agonising over the details, night to night, by himself, to fathom how they could be obeyed in ever-changing circumstances. Now her orders were fresh in his mind, and she remained close enough that he could feel her powerful will and her sharp love in every moment. Her omnipresent guidance meant his decisions came easily, his actions were swift, his delight was magnified. He was like a cherished son receiving praise from his doting mother; a beloved hound petted fondly by its mistress; a favourite blade admired in the moonlight by its wielder.

(https://i.imgur.com/AE7EVYp.jpg)

He rode atop the carroccio that once belonged the arch-lector Calictus II, captured in the same battle in which Biagino was kissed by the duchess and became hers forevermore. In life, Calictus had been his master; he himself was but one of the arch-lector’s many servants; and this great wagon had been the nearest thing to a church of Morr on the field of battle. Now Calictus was dead and he himself had become a High Priest; much of Calictus’ army was his to command, raised from death to march again; and the carroccio was heaped with corpses and made into a formidable focus of necromantic magics in the service of his own Church of Nagash.

(https://i.imgur.com/4eFLJW5.jpg)

As the wagon trundled on, pulled by four pairs of entirely osseous horses, he allowed the magical winds of dark enchantment to flow through him. He could feed on the power the unholy carroccio funnelled, delight as his mistress’s managing will honed and shaped that power, and revel as it poured from him to animate the vast throng of witless worshippers (the Disciplinati di Nagash) all around him.

(https://i.imgur.com/5dGWdMk.jpg)

His senses were not just sharpened far beyond those of mortal men but magnified almost exponentially so that each of the cavorting corpses became an extension of him, limbs with which to strike at the enemy. Even the horses were directed by the power of his own mind. No lash or crop was required, for his mere intention could turn, speed or slow the beasts as easily as a man might walk.

(https://i.imgur.com/cfZ9r0i.jpg)

Behind him stood two of his priests, members of La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti. Their minds were bound to his as his was to Duchess Maria’s, providing a very satisfactory feeling of balance. He could slavishly love and obey the duchess whilst receiving just the same from his priests. His own subjection, which otherwise might seem almost pathetic and demeaning, was given freely, for he himself was the object of exactly equal worship. They were not his puppets, like his hundreds of Disciplinati, for they had minds just as he. They obeyed because they yearned to do so, not because he controlled their very movements. This is why he had created them – having only the Disciplinati to guard him would make him vulnerable. If he were to be distracted, even for a moment, then his Disciplinati would be also. These two priests, however, could react quickly and upon their own initiative. If Biagino were wounded, even dying, these priests would retain all the strength of body and will they ever had, while the Disciplinati would stumble and stagger in bewilderment, or even succumb to death.

(https://i.imgur.com/7JIpIpq.jpg)

Nevertheless, despite his gleeful joy at all these things combined, right this very moment the satisfaction which far surpassed all others, was the gloriously intense pleasure he felt at wielding the Disciplinati horde. Although only a tiny part of each of their minds remained, they were all his to rule, and the sheer size of the throng made him feel mightier than ever before.

(https://i.imgur.com/nPhF7Ro.jpg)

Some had been gifted to him by his mistress, resurrected after the Battle of the Isean Hills, close by the city of Ebino. Once dedicants of the Disciplinati di Morr, they had marched north to die. Although rotting, the winter cold had combined with necromantic magics to keep them quite whole, so that a good number, from a distance, might be mistaken for living men. Close up, however, their pallid-grey flesh, staring eyes and perhaps most of all, their stench, revealed the truth.

(https://i.imgur.com/ifvSS6p.jpg)

It amused Biagino to remember just how ugly such flagellating cultists had been when alive –he had seen a fair few – and to see now that death had made them even uglier, which one might well have presumed was not possible!

(https://i.imgur.com/rJNyWIf.jpg)

Most were still clad in the layers of robes they had worn in life, clutching whatever they had been carrying as the died. Many of their faces were obscured by hoods.

(https://i.imgur.com/fhK01rM.jpg)

The others had been with him much longer, for they had died several seasons earlier at the Battle for Ebino – indeed upon the same day Biagino had fallen. In life they had been part of Arch-Lector Calictus’s Holy Army of Morr. In undeath, they had marched south with him to Trantio, then fled the Valley of Norochia to escort him all the way back to Ebino. It was becoming hard to mistake these for living men, so much of their flesh having rotted away. In parts they were reduced almost to the bone, and their robes were torn, worn and rotted away to a much greater degree, to reveal their now jagged chines.

(https://i.imgur.com/feBDIE9.jpg)

Some amongst the horde displayed the wounds that were most likely responsible for their deaths - great incisions, shattered bones or crumpled skulls. Others had gaping tears in their flesh made by the teeth and nails of their undead comrades during momentary lapses of guidance from their new master.

(https://i.imgur.com/EkrYSMB.jpg)

They felt pain – excruciating pain – but of a kind that no longer arose from the physical wounding of their bodies. It was an agony came from every part of them at one and the same time, both physical and spiritual. They were driven by a furious, hungry hatred, the last emotion left in the fragment of mind they now possessed. They seemed to leer, scowl and glower as they ran, although in truth what remained of their decaying faces could appear no other way.

(https://i.imgur.com/01cmKzM.jpg)

There was a cruel irony to their condition, for in life they had strived to scourge themselves with chains and knotted cords into an ecstatic pain and so induce a fighting frenzy that meant they felt no fear. Now, their every moment was a painful frenzy and they had forgotten fear entirely. Their craving had been satisfied, to the extreme, even beyond the extremity of their lives.

Biagino loved them all. To him, they were like tin soldiers are to a boy fanatically keen on his games of war; a precious collection to set out this way and that, to admire from one angle and another, while the excitement of the forthcoming battle grows ever stronger.

They were his playthings, his poppets, his bambinos. They were the weapon with which he could slaughter Tilea.

(https://i.imgur.com/YksScuk.jpg)
………………………………………………………………

Antonio Mugello’s letter continued

Duchess Maria’s forces, combined with Ebino’s impressive defences, must be sufficiently strong to cause even a general of Lord Alessio’s proven ability, commanding a truly mighty army, to hesitate. He has built a fortified camp south of the Bridge of Pontremola, said to incorporate the bridge into its boundary. Now, apparently, he waits for the army of the VMC. Does he know, I wonder, that they are instead lingering here in Remas?

Having spoken to several seamen of various origins, I have learned that the Sartosans, having already razed Luccini and its villages, defeating its small army in battle and taking the young king Ferronso hostage, then attempted to travel south along the coast. Upon their first attempt they had been driven back by the storms, which is when they took the young king, but then upon their second attempt the storm’s sister, with its easterly winds, apparently drove their fleet towards the island of Sartosa. Considering they attempted the same southerly course twice it seems plain to me that they were intending to raid the rich realm of Alcente. I cannot know for certain but were it not for the storms they would at least have passed that realm. Considering their success at Luccini, where they had only to fight a small army, perhaps they believe Alcente will prove just as easy a target what with its main strength, the army of the VMC, camped many leagues away here in Remas. As I suggested before, perhaps this is the real reason the army of the VMC has halted? General Valckenburgh might be torn between marching north as promised or returning south to protect his realm.

It is reported that Duke Ercole, once regent of Luccini and uncle to the captured king, and the condottiere General Marsilio da Fermo (Luccini’s military commander who once served with you, I believe, in the grand alliance army) have arrived together in Portomaggiore, seeking refuge after their defeat at the hands of the Sartosans. There they are apparently pressing for Lord Alessio’s assistance in the matter of their kidnapped king. They know Lord Alessio well, and perhaps believe him to be fond of the young king, for after all he did attend Ferronso’s crowning. Of course, with no army of their own, with Lord Alessio’s army busy in the north and the rest of his forces no doubt ordered to guard Portomaggiore against Sartosan raids, they are asking for a loan in gold to pay the ransom. Oddly, it seems to be the case that they do not know the actual amount of the ransom demand as their previous negotiations were disrupted by the battle. I suppose the Sartosans will let them know soon enough, for pirates are hardly known for their patience, nor can I imagine such ruffians enjoy having to keep the young king alive.

The mountain dwarfs of Karak Borgo, having driven the last of Boulderguts’ ogres from Campogrotta and Ravola, establishing the Bretonnian nobleman Baron Garoy in the latter and General Mazallini and his Compagnia del Sole in the former, have apparently withdrawn back up the Carraia del Ferro to their mountain fastness. It is a widely held opinion among Reman merchants who have had dealings with the dwarfs, that having defeated the ogres and re-seeded civilisation in the neighbouring realms, King Jaldeog expects trade to flourish and goods to flow once more, however the ongoing vampire threat and the appearance of ratto uomo forces in the north make this unlikely, at least for now. Perhaps King Jaldeog wanted to give both realms sufficient time to re-establish themselves, so that when the wars finally end, both will be ripe for rich trading opportunities? As finishing off the ogres appears to have been the dwarfs’ only intended contribution to the wars, King Jaldeog may now expect the Tilean realms to defeat the vampires. Perhaps the resurgence of the ratto uomo, the dwarf’s particularly hated enemy, might prompt him, even force him, to contribute more to the struggle ahead?

Last of all, I can report that here it is said that you have raised the militia of Verezzo, bolstered their numbers substantially and are currently busied with drilling and exercises, all the better the defend Verezzo from the likes of the duke of Pavona. Of course, you know the truth concerning this, and so my words are intended only to make you aware of what is believed in Remas concerning Verezzan affairs. If there is anything I can do in your service, as your agent in Remas, then you only have to say and it shall become my foremost endeavour to obey.

Your most humble servant
Antonio Mugello
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 21, 2020, 12:37:04 PM
The Defence of Ravola

Prequel: Mathilde
The City of Ravola, Early Spring 2304

Perette had yet to see the newly constructed engine, what with myriad responsibilities distracting her (however self-imposed). Now she had been asked to come quickly - the gunners apparently wanted her blessing, for themselves and their ward.

When Osmont delivered the request, Perette had laughed, saying, “Surely the gunners would prefer a wielder of magical fire to keep a distance from their black powder? If they are averse to anyone so much as smoking a pipe nearby, or just carrying a candle too close, how much more should they be afraid of someone who can conjure sheets of fire from her fingertips?”

Osmont pondered a moment, then asked, “I have been wanting to ask. How do you do that?”

Perette smiled. “I shape my anger in an arcane manner and then let the etheric wind flow through me.” 

“Oh,” said Osmont. “Well, that explains it, my lady!  As for the engine, the gunners seem to consider it your sibling, for it was born in battle and is more like you than anyone or anything else in Ravola.”

“Why do they not think of me as its mother?”

Osmont laughed. “If Gruddic Greyfury was the gun’s father, of which there is no doubt, and you were its mother, then that means …”

Perette feigned disgust, then, as if she were warming to the idea, she said, “Well, he is very distinguished looking, for a dwarf!”

As the two of them left the chamber, Perette asked, “Why did they not ask me until now?”

“They want your blessing her before she is used in anger.”

The ratmen were indeed approaching but would not arrive until the morrow. By the time the Bretonnians had learned of their presence across the river in Codropio, they had already secured the bridge, thus ensuring it could not be held against them. This gave them time to muster their force, emerging from the ground like streams from springs to gather in strength like a river. Albeit a filthy river!

“Oh,” continued Osmont. “And they want you to name her too.”

“I thought they’d already named it,” said Perette. “Bloody Barrels, wasn’t it?”

The engine was made of several many barrels fixed together, which the previous owners had occasionally used as clubs, as evinced by the dried blood upon them.

“They want her to have a real name, and a lucky one. Who better to choose than her famous sister?”

It was possible the engine would play a vital part in the city’s defence, so Perette did not want the gunners feeling dispirited, or unlucky. The ratmen would swarm like their smaller cousins - the defenders of Ravola needed weapons that could pour destruction upon them.

Upon arriving, the first thing the engine’s attendants asked was what she thought of it.

“It’s an ugly child,” she said, looking it up and down. “But war is rarely pretty. It might seem obvious, but tell me anyway - what can she do?”

 “We can fire the barrels three at a time,” said the fellow standing closest to it. “And if that doesn’t prove as thoroughly discouragin’ as we want, we can fire the other three straight after.”

 (https://i.imgur.com/MfnClBQ.jpg)

The dwarf Greyfury and his gunners had cobbled the engine together hastily, which explained its complete lack of decoration. The engineer commanded the brigade of dwarfs sent from Camprogotta to assist Baron Garoy’s knights and Perette’s Brabanzon in the taking of Ravola, which had proved to be a not at all troublesome task. The brutes remaining to garrison the city had not fancied their chances and so, after agreeing terms - which included leaving their leadbelchers behind - they surrendered and marched away. Greyfury had inspected the discarded barrels, discovering that some were of dwarf or Tilean make and still in good condition. He declared it would be a shame to waste them, and so, before marching back to Campogotta, he tarried just long enough to build a double wheeled carriage from what he could find in the city, upon which he mounted the barrels craftily and, it was to be hoped, securely. He claimed that although the brutes had gone, his engine would work just as effectively as they themselves in battle, blasting the foe with an exactly similar amount of hot lead, if not being quite as mobile.

Perette could see the part about mobility was an under exaggeration. The engine looked as easy to move as a boulder on a sled! She had no doubt it would happily descend a slope, but that getting it up the steps to the battlements was going to take some doing.

(https://i.imgur.com/c9WFyXP.jpg)

“Is there still sufficient time to mount it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“Yes, my lady,” said the engine’s attendant. “We have everything prepared. Greyfury showed us how to dismantle and replace the barrels – even had us practice. That way there’s only the carriage to haul with ropes and pulleys.”

“I’m impressed,” said Perette as she walked over to the engine to inspect it more closely. She had seen such barrels used in anger - indeed she had tasted the fear they could induce. The ogres at Campogrotta had had many of them. Indeed, the first assault (Note *1) had faltered because of them. She herself had witnessed a veritable regiment of their gaping, black muzzles.

(https://i.imgur.com/hjtbFt6.jpg)
 
No-one, thankfully, chose to approach any closer. Had the mighty bombard Granite Breaker not grown too hot from her work, then no doubt she could have toppled walls and towers onto the leadbelchers, and the assault would have continued. But without the venerable bombard’s aid the attackers had chosen to withdraw. They would just have to try again another day, having let the night’s air cool Granite Breaker. This they did, four days later, although not without further costly losses, and regrettably giving a relief force of ogres time to arrive (Note *2).

“I take it, then,” said Osmont, in a cheerful tone, “all of you will be putting your money on this engine and not the trebuchet?”

Perette had heard there was to be a competition between the two, concerning which would cause the foe the most harm. The trebuchet had been found intact upon the main tower of the southern wall, having been used three years earlier by Lord Giacomo’s defenders when the ogres had first captured the city (Note *3). It had fallen into some disrepair, having only been used since by the ogres to launch prisoners from the city in a form of entertaining punishment for whatever crimes the brutes sought fit to accuse them of. No dwarf was needed, however, either to guide or assist in its repair, as several of the Brabanzon had plenty of experience of such machines, and they had got it back to full working order two days before Greyfury’s engine was completed.

(https://i.imgur.com/IrqSq1c.jpg)

“The trebuchet will no doubt flatten a good few from afar,” said the attendant, “if it’s aim proves true enough. But this thing will do its work closer up, when the trebuchet cannot work at all. And this thing can’t miss, as long as we point it at them! My money’s on this.”

“I cannot decide,” said Osmont. “Besides, surely our lady Perette ought to be included in the competition?” He turned to look at her, “If so, then my money is on you, my lady.”

“Is that how you see me?” laughed Perette. “Nothing more than an engine of war?”

“And truly glorious with it!” said Osmont.

“Hush now,” ordered Perette. “We ought not talk in such a manner before the child. I would not want to upset her.”

She walked around the engine, caressed one of the barrels and giving a wink to the attendant. “I think she should be named Mathilde, for she will be our strength in battle.”

*1 http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?p=94153#p94153

*2 http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?p=96008#p96008

*3 http://forum.oldhammer.org.uk/viewtopic.php?p=35230#p35230
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 21, 2020, 04:49:19 PM
Pre-story Wargame Notes

The Forces

Here is the NPC force defending Ravola. Any walls without these soldiers are to be manned by peasants, servants and the city’s meagre inhabitants, which are not shown here.

The NPC characters and forces in the campaign feature prominently in the stories, perhaps because as GM I can publish what I like about them? The players, however, are often (understandably) cagey about what is revealed concerning their plans, resources and difficulties in such stories! This is a competitive campaign, after all, in that the players want their character's to do well.

(https://i.imgur.com/b3s10CT.jpg)

Perette, the ‘fallen damsel' will command the force as a whole, with Baron Garoy commanding his little company of knights. The reasons for this will probably come out in the battle report story.

(https://i.imgur.com/6JshoZY.jpg)

As well as the knights, there is a second mounted company of 'Brabanzon' light horsemen, who can act both as archers and spearmen. The player was given the option of dismounted one or both of these companies and putting them on the walls, but he chose not to. “Stick some peasants on any empty walls” is what he ordered. He was intending to use these either to attack any skaven who breached the defences (one way or another) or, if the opportunity arose and it seemed beneficial, perhaps to sally out?

Perette is shown here, and the Brabanzon foot. She is a level 2 wizard now, so will have two fire spells. It is rare I make such unrolled for decisions or alterations for NPCs, but I will do so when events strongly suggest it. In a cause and effect sort of way. She did very well with her magic during the two assaults of Campogrotta, and had gained a new authority since then, as well as much respect. So I upped her to level 2 rather in the manner of roleplaying game experience points!

(https://i.imgur.com/avlIKSJ.jpg)

The two companies of Brabanzon foot are archers. We are not using the old Warhammer Bretonnian list for the Brabanzon mercenaries, but instead, as appropriate for mercenaries operating more like Tileans than the norms of their own land, we used our non-official  campaign Tilean army list. It is an old internet campaign list which was not made by me but, with various tweaks to suit my own version of Tilea (such as priests of Morr as well as Myrmidia), has proved very useful for representing many an army in this campaign, both player and NPC. These are longbowmen and ‘brigands’ with short bows.

The artillery
(https://i.imgur.com/ZsifaYr.jpg)

The two engines featuring in the prequel story are seen here - an old Citadel Miniatures’ trebuchet and crew and a kit-bashed monstrosity I cobbled together years ago in lieu of a Helblaster. The latter just so happened to look like exactly what would result if a dwarfen engineer fixed six leadbelcher barrels together. That, and the fact that the ogres had indeed only been allowed to march away if they laid down their arms, as well as that the dwarfs sent to assist Garoy and the Brabanzon had been commanded by an engineer (they though, after all, they would be besieging the city) meant I just had to use it.  I crafted rules for it almost identical to ogre leadbelcher rules, but with the chance to misfire and a suitable table to roll on.

The light gun is a Perry Miniatures model, I think. I used the campaign list’s horse artillery stats and rules but ditched the dashing around behind a horse aspect!



The Skaven force is a player-army, although they are my figures. The actual campaign player would command this force, while another player volunteered to command the defending NPC force. More action for everyone!

This is only a fragment of the player’s full force. For a start, only part of their realm’s full strength was near Ravola, and even then, the machines were left behind in the tunnels. I warned the player (well, not me, his NPC advisers) that to get his several war engines out  would take several days, and thus give the defenders more time to prepare. Perhaps they would send for relief? Dig traps? Prepare some ruse? This suitably ruffled the player, and he decided to leave the machines and take the city quickly with his warriors alone!

(https://i.imgur.com/X3CSMQu.jpg)

The commander is a Grey Seer called Lord Urlak. (His second name is a mess of letters meant to be confusing. The trick worked, even I can’t recall it! ‘Ushocrochoshor’ or some such monstrosity!)

(https://i.imgur.com/ddGspBR.jpg)

He has his bodyguard with him, in the form of his army banner bearer, the 40 strong yellow regiment of clanrats and three rat ogres.

(https://i.imgur.com/JORrSxU.jpg)

Warlord Gurthrak commands Clan Skravell, one of the clans under Lord Urlak’s rule. Gurthrak himself rides a Bonebreaker

(https://i.imgur.com/Y1owfl7.jpg)

There are three other rat ogres in his clan’s little army. The clan's main unit is the 'red regiment' (they have a red banner), being 50 clanrats strong, plus a ratling gun.

(https://i.imgur.com/DZNMszB.jpg)

The clan also boasts two companies of 5 jezzails and some rat swarms, as well as two engineers to tend their war machines. One was back with the machines at the tunnels, supervising their extraction, but the other was here with his warpmusket.

(https://i.imgur.com/KADrZ35.jpg)

The last element in Lord Urlak’s force is a large regiment of 40 Plague Monks - Clan Pestilens is one of the investors in his joint-stock war! They don’t have their plagueclaw catapult with them (see the comments above regarding exiting the tunnels). These are a mixture of plastic GW figures, and metal Black Tree Designs' Pestilential Priests.

(http://i.imgur.com/zL32jcJ.jpg) (https://imgur.com/zL32jcJ)

The Field of Battle

This was easy to set up as I had pictures from the last wargame played at Ravola, when Razger Boulderguts' ogres had seized the city three game-world years earlier (in the real world, back in 2014!) I just perused the pics, found the same scenery and slapped it down.

(https://i.imgur.com/UwQN9hl.jpg)

The Rules

Our campaign has rules for fighting an assault such as this, based on the old Warhammer rules, some going back as far as sixth edition or earlier. These have been modified throughout the campaign as we incorporate new ideas that come up during play, and deal with problems and the like. Basically, it is a 7 turn game (sometimes 8 when the GM thinks it appropriate, and a die roll allows) in which the victor must try to control the greatest number of the defences' ‘sections’ by the end of the game. Each tower and stretch of the wall is a section (see the picture above), and there are two further sections inside – left and right. To control a section you need an unengaged and non-fleeing unit (or character) in a section, and no non-fleeing enemy models. By the way, the two inner towers (E and F) on the picture above were not official sections, although they were in the internal sections. In this game there were 11 sections to play for, which included the side wall not labelled above. (That wall could only be reached from inside the city, due to the steep stone footings beneath its outside!)

We have our own rules for assaults by ladders (not easy at all) or siege towers, although once on the defences, the fighting between sections is basically the standard fighting in buildings rules from the 8th ed' rulebook.

Oh, and due to the pandemic we used ‘Play by e-mail’ for this game, thus, for example, all the pictures above are just some of the many, many pics I sent to the players before and during the game, often with notes, arrows and measurements edited on to them. I hope to do a separate ‘Game Notes’ essay all about our play by e-mail odyssey.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 22, 2020, 03:37:04 PM
The Defence of Ravola: The Battle

Deployment


It was an hour after dawn when the enemy first appeared. Perette had been on the tower long before light, suspecting that such an enemy might prefer to attack when it was still dark. Then, as the sun rose, she had wondered whether they intended to attack that day at all. Perhaps they were waiting for something? Reinforcements? Mighty but slow-moving machines? Or perhaps they had some scheme afoot and there would be more to the day than a straightforward assault? Just as she was beginning to suspect that this must be the case, they suddenly marched into view.

There were a lot of them, as she had expected. Not only the reports from the scouts, but also every story she had ever heard of ratmen in battle, described them as having great numbers. Yet one of Garoy’s knightly companions, who had witnessed an army of their kind in his youth, had told her that if the scouts were right then this was a small army for their kind. Perhaps not what the ratmen themselves would even call an army?

The enemy force looked big enough to her! Directly ahead there was a large body of robed ratmen, hefting a broad ladder half as wide as the regiment itself – more like scaffolding than any ordinary ladder.

(https://i.imgur.com/thPGJEx.jpg)

By their side were two smaller companies, whose own burdens were similarly oversized - handguns, but so long and heavy that two ratmen were need to heft them. She had heard of these. They were called jezzails, and they shot bullets of warpstone. Deadly, without a doubt, but surely not strong enough to penetrate the stone of the walls?

(https://i.imgur.com/OplVqgT.jpg)

Turning she looked along the line. The majority of the enemy were gathered before the gate tower, not the tower she herself occupied, which showed a certain obvious clarity to their purpose. Yet … she could spy no engines of war among them with which to shatter the gate. How exactly did they think they would break through?

(https://i.imgur.com/utkMAaM.jpg)

The robed rats were not the biggest body the foe possessed. Before the gate were two much larger regiments, carrying exactly similar ladders, as well as a swarm of almost natural rats and at least two companies of brutes the same height as ogres. The biggest regiment had one such brute in its front ranks, with a platform strapped to its shoulders upon which rode a warlord, general or some such, sporting a red and yellow banner affixed to his back. This surprised Perette, for she had always thought such creatures found their strength in numbers, and not through individual prowess. But of course, someone had to command: to cow the rest and make them obey. Doubtless whichever rat argued with that particular warlord would find themselves torn to pieces by his draft beast, while said warlord sniggered or scowled above!

And yet she sensed that the colourfully rigged ratman was not the commander of this force. She could not yet put her finger on it, but there was great power, magical power, elsewhere in the enemy lines. Whoever possessed it would no doubt reveal themselves the moment they brought it openly to bear, but for now, she just knew that the real leader was someone else.

Nearby there was a shout of ‘Have a care!’, which broke her dark reverie. She saw below that the humble townsfolk were leaving the wall there to make way for the Brabanzon longbowmen. This made her think of the wall to her right. What with the enemy so solidly massed before the gate tower, she now realised the brigand archers on that wall must have little to nothing they could shoot at, and so she strode over to the wall to shout down, “Care to join us up here boys?”

As the archers gathered their quivers of arrows and began moving along the wall, she strode back to where she had been before. They’re not slow, she thought. Even from this distance she could see they had drawn considerably closer in just the time it took for her to issue her command.



Seer-Lord Urlak Ashoscrochor peered at the city’s walls. He could see that the enemy had had little time to prepare their defences, for the ground between him and the walls was undisturbed – no pits, earthworks, stakes, nothing at all. But still, what with an oak and iron gate, portcullis and stone walls and towers, perhaps he should have tarried until his engines of war had been extracted from the tunnel? If the walls had to be taken by ladders, his warriors would die in droves. Not that he cared one jot for their lives, but to lose them carelessly when he had future plans for their use was not a prospect which pleased him. He recalled how once he had watched a warlord fill a moat with his fighting slave and even clanrats, simply to fashion a bridge to allow the rest of his force over. At least there is no ditch-moat here, he thought.

He moved his eyes along the battlements, squinting to make out what was upon them. The morning sky was bright, grating enough to blur his vision, but the enemy’s motion helped.

(https://i.imgur.com/5JRUvPZ.jpg)

To his left he could see a fluttering banner or two, soldiers’ heads here and there, and a large machine upon the biggest of the towers. Then something caught his eye - a pitchfork! The kind of tool men-slaves used to gather hay from their weed-fields. Why would a soldier have a farming tool?

He looked instead at the walls before him, much closer. There was another machine of war, a cannon of sorts with many a muzzle. And, beside it, men armed with scythes.

(https://i.imgur.com/Fm5ykJ6.jpg)

Ha! he laughed. They are but peasant-men! Where are the soldiers? These walls are manned by wretches. His scouts had reported soldiers in the garrison, armoured from head to foot. Either his scouts were wrong, the soldiers had fled, or they were elsewhere.

Then he saw motion on the wall to the right. There they are! he thought, as men armed with bows took the place of the previous, pathetic occupants.

(https://i.imgur.com/lQCrTOb.jpg)

It seemed a strange trick to play. It made little sense. What had the enemy to gain from such footling footwork, shifting hither and thither? Unless, the enemy had so few soldiers that they had had to hold them back until his army came into view, then deploy them on whichever walls were most threatened?

If that were so, then he could expect a similar exchange upon the wall ahead. He watched, waited. He squinted against the sharp light. But no, the wretched peasants there remained in place, their scythes held aloft

(https://i.imgur.com/XDiRLr8.jpg)

They do not have enough soldiers to defend every wall! No armour, no shields; no handguns nor crossbows. Just rusty digging tools and the like. He licked his lips with glee. This would be easy after all.

Before he gave the order to advance, he glanced about him, to check if his army was in order. To his left he saw Clan Skravell’s red regiment, with Gurthrak atop his Bonebreaker at the fore. Just beyond he could make out Skravell’s ogres, and the dangerous end of their ratling team’s weapon.

(https://i.imgur.com/Ym7Q80n.jpg)

Seer Lord Urlak hissed, which drew the attention of all around him, even Gurthrak. He bared his teeth at the warlord, narrowed his eyes. Gurthrak gestured forwards with the blade of his fauchard. It was a question. Urlak gave the tiniest of nods, and Gurthrak turned to look back at the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/f3LZNQt.jpg)

As he did so, he summoned up a screeching howl of a command: “Advance!”

The whole army began to move.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Game Notes:

Skaven Deployment
(https://i.imgur.com/xa50055.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/hhnM3yW.jpg)

Brabanzon Deployment
(https://i.imgur.com/sUsDUbv.jpg)

You may have noticed the swap-over of two units which I allowed to the defenders. That’s because both sides set up ‘blind’: the players giving me instructions for deployment without any knowledge concerning the enemy’s deployment. The only had a picture of the tabletop to go on. I had, however, told the defender he could swap whichever two units (or just move one) he liked, to represent the fact that his commander and troops would have a slightly better idea regarding the enemy’s deployment (having spied upon their approach) and so could adjust their own disposition on the walls a little to reflect that knowledge, within the present safety of their own walls.

BTW, I know the order to advance has been given by the Skaven in the story, and Perette has ordered the brigands to come up onto the tower, but in game terms this was simply deployment. Next part of the story will begin with Turn 1, Perette’s phase (the Bretonnians won first round).

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on August 23, 2020, 08:00:47 PM
Last 2 instalments are great! This has seemed to become a Sunday afternoon tradition when they come out.
Looking forward to the next when the rats get to the walls! Love the lower grade of defenders in this as well. I want to know what happens to the guy with the pitch fork 😺
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 23, 2020, 08:02:09 PM
Thanks Artobahn. Here's the next part ...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Fight Begins

(https://i.imgur.com/mq2ux9b.jpg)

Perette was ready for their advance. She had been absent mindedly stroking the red jewel of her enchanted ring since the moment they had appeared, and now she channelled the etheric breeze through it to conjure magical fire. As she did so the ring itself grew too hot to bear and she was forced to tear it from her finger, dropping her favourite fan in the process. The ring clattered off out of sight, lost somewhere on the crowded battlements. Despite her unexpected pain, the magic coalesced into flaming globes which rushed all the way to the brute-like rats moving a little ahead of the rest of the enemy army. One of the creatures staggered back, alight from the legs up, then crumpled to the ground in a shower of sparks. Satisfied with this, despite her lost ring, she decided she would finish them off completely with more infernal magic, but she could not control the etheric eddies caused by the misbehaving ring and her efforts came to nought.

(Game Note: Miscast using magical item, then straightforward fail on the next spell.)

The men around her, both the crew of the trebuchet and the brigands rushing onto the tower’s battlements, did not notice her fumbling failure, for they had other matters on their mind.

(https://i.imgur.com/ByPpziv.jpg)

There was an almighty crack as the trebuchet’s arm was released to hurl a huge load of rocks. This sudden sound the brigands could not fail to notice - several flinched in surprise, one dropping the arrows from his quiver. The stones arced gracefully through the air to land squarely upon the robed ratmen to Perette’s fore, causing a large, messy lacuna to appear in their midst as night upon a score were crushed. (Game Note: 17 dead!) Three more at the front also fell, stuck with longbow arrows, so that altogether half their number had been slain. Yet, despite being the sort of carnage which would doubtless discourage even the most foolhardy of men, the survivors simply stepped over the battered corpses and calmly continued their advance.

(https://i.imgur.com/Cwknp4j.jpg)

(Game note: It occurs to me now that their ladder would surely have been destroyed by such a blow. Still, I suppose they could have been dragging it behind?)

Perette was surprised. In every story about them the ratmen invariably proved to be cowards, yet here was evidence to the contrary. Perhaps, she thought, they fear whatever dark god they have dedicated themselves to more than the rocks, more so than even death? 

Seer Lord Urlak scowled. That was but one engine, and the enemy had more, including the many-barreled monstrosity awaiting atop the gate tower towards which most of the army was advancing.

(https://i.imgur.com/bPDkXU9.jpg)

He knew he could not yet do anything to harm the engines, but he could make the enemy’s arrows fly less true, so he conjured a warp-gale to engulf the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZKRpzdI.jpg)

As he did so he felt no resistance from the enemy. Strange-odd? he thought. Perhaps their wizard fears what I will do next? The fireballs had revealed her presence upon the largest tower, beside the stone throwing engine. A red-haired woman, who was either holding back or was currently struggling to manipulate the winds of magic.

(https://i.imgur.com/bmAf9sB.jpg)

Deciding play things cautiously, he summoned a state of magically induced frenzy upon his bodyguard, to make them careless of any harm they themselves might receive. If such rocks were to strike them, he did not want his own guards fleeing in panic. When the warriors around him became more animated and louder in their snarling, he knew his spell had taken hold. Yet still nothing from the red-haired woman. She must have sensed his presence by now? Well, if she was so stupid, he would try something else that would have a much more immediate effect on the enemy. Spotting the clan Skravell engineer not too far away, he decided to skitterleap him onto the walls, there to sow confusion amongst the enemy. This time though, he felt the resistance – not from the engineer, who remained ignorant throughout - but from the tower. From the woman. Yes, yes, you see me now, he thought, as his magic was foiled.

(https://i.imgur.com/uoSda13.jpg)

As his army drew closer to the walls …

(https://i.imgur.com/ZSIfGaC.jpg)

… the jezzails (out on the far-left flank) gave fire upon the stone throwing engine, despite its distance and almost complete concealment behind the stone battlements.

(https://i.imgur.com/znVOrEZ.jpg)

Chips of stone burst explosively from the crenulations before the engine, and, just visible through the osseous cloud the dust they formed, so too did large shivers of timber from the upper parts of the machine. (Game Note: Two wounds!) The jezzail gunners sniggered gleefully.

(https://i.imgur.com/V9ZLfQ9.jpg)

What with the sudden, clattering fragmentation of the stone nearby, Perette barely noticed a gang of city dwellers had occupied the wall vacated by the brigands. Angered by the potential loss of her ring, and unable to start scrabbling around to find it now, especially now that shards of stone littered the area, she looked back out at the enemy. The etheric winds began began to wind themselves harmonically into her anger (an old, familiar feeling) and she manipulated them to manifest as spheres of magical fire to fly out towards the largest enemy regiment. Nine of the ratmen succumbed to the flames – if not dead, then too burned to continue. This was not all, however, for the unseen winds were strong, and so with the heat of the last spell still in her mind, she conjured a veritable storm of fire to wash over the same enemy regiment. Eight more ratmen fell, their fur smoking as their innards were cooked!

(Game Note: Fireball followed by Piercing Bolts, which was successful despite forgetting to add the D3 bonus for a previously successful fire spell!)

Urlak saw Gurthrak’s regiment was faltering, what with the awful stench of burned flesh and the terrible sound of the wounded. He allowed himself to give vent to a screech filled with malice, loud enough that the red regiment’s leader heard him. Order was regained, and their march was continued. But only a moment after they resumed their advance, a pile of tumbling rocks crashed into the very heart of them killing seventeen more!

The enemy’s stone thrower had struck again. It was quick, accurate and it was threatening to ruin Lord Urlak’s plans! His screech transformed into something more furious and from somewhere the red regiment found the will to step over more bodies and march on.

No, no! thought Urlak. This is not going to be easy at all. Indeed, in the last few moments his entire enterprise seemed doubtful.

(https://i.imgur.com/IYZz9Ai.jpg)

Yet, even as three more red regiment Skaven fell to arrows, still they stumbled onwards. Seeing how much his servants seemed willing to endure for him, he resolved not to succumb to despair. Whatever it took, he would possess this city by nightfall, even if every one of his pathetic underlings had to die in the attempt. Here, today, he had chosen to show his hand. Defeat was not an option. He would die himself before informing the Council he had failed in his first open fight.

( Game note: Both the brigands and the longbowmen were responsible for the three extra deaths. Believe it or not the organ gun was lined up ready to shoot as well, but it misfired! You can imagine how the Skaven player was feeling - a certain degree of doubt about his campaign strategy was beginning to set in! This NPC force had been very lucky in their first two turns. Considering we were, due to the pandemic lock down, ‘playing-by-email’, with me making all the actual rolls, I myself was becoming worried that the players would think I was fudging the results.)

(https://i.imgur.com/bwoTOWQ.jpg)

With his despair now transformed into pure fury, Lord Urlak ordered his army to charge. The already battered rat ogres were closest to the walls …

(https://i.imgur.com/wdc5aHr.jpg)

… and their proximity combined with their speed meant that for now they only ones to reach the city wall, slamming up their ladder to ascend the wall against the Brabanzon longbowmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/9g7cUc1.jpg)

As the brutes began their climb, Urlak decided he would not have Gurthrak wasted beneath a pile of rocks, nor did he want to see what the multi-barreled gun peeking over the battlements could do when it fired, and so he summoned every scrap of magical power he could to conjure Skitterleap. The red-haired woman could not stop him this time, and in the next moment Warlord Gurthrak vanished from atop his bonebreaker to reappear upon the gate tower, right beside the war-engine!

(https://i.imgur.com/7vkigTi.jpg)

By now the jezzailers had also noticed the red-haired woman near the trebuchet, for they could see she was the one spewing magical fire from the battlements. Deciding they could always return to shooting the war machine later, then now fired as one at her. Coincidentally, the ratling team had settled upon exactly the same target, so that now the crenulated stones before Perette began to burst, sending out a huge shower of fragments. She had to throw herself down, shielding her eyes as shards of stone bounced all over and around her.

Not one bullet, however, found its mark, something shooters did not know for some time, what with the obscuring cloud of dust and smoke now engulfing the tower top. The other skaven ratling team, hearing that the first had now opened up, chose an easier target - the peasants on the wall in front of them. It was the last choice they ever made, however, as their weapon broke apart in the firing, mortally wounding them instead of the foe.

The rat ogres, the only skaven to have reached the walls ...

(https://i.imgur.com/d4PzCnN.jpg)

... now ascended the ladders as best they could. Of course, the longbowmen had the advantage, killing the packmasters driving the brutes in a hail of arrows before they even set foot on a ladder, and wounding an ogre before it reached the top of the wall. Four longbowmen were cut down or thrown off the wall, while one of the ogres was finished off by the archers’ swords. As that ogre fell, the surviving one struggled to hold on and slid back down the ladder. Winded, it staggered back, and although its previous fury had been beaten out of it, it’s only intent was to climb the ladder again, come what may!

(Game Note: we have campaign rules regarding ladder assaults. Stomp can’t be used, nor can two hand or two handed weapons. Attackers are at -1 Init and -1 to hit, whilst the defenders are at +1 to hit. Up to 12 defenders can fight, compared to up to only 9 attackers (or 3 monstrous infantry). Combat results based on wounds caused alone. It really should not be easy to take a castle wall with ladders, and it is not!)

End of Turn 2!

----------------------------------------------------------------

Game Notes

Play by email is time consuming! This battle took several days, with me running it late into the night on three separate occasions, I think. (My memories are hazy of the experience!)  There were benefits, such as me being able to take better pictures than usual as we went along (there are some good pictures coming up in the report, I promise). I also had to send out a ton of orientation pictures, like the following examples …

Perette’s fire magic ranges
(https://i.imgur.com/gKilN1w.jpg)

Perette’s knowledge of enemy movement
(https://i.imgur.com/CpcNrrV.jpg)

Perette’s orientation re: the enemy’s movements next turn
(https://i.imgur.com/jid3f3m.jpg)

Skaven rangings for missile …
(https://i.imgur.com/5dZ77Jm.jpg)

… and magic
(https://i.imgur.com/g1evKkl.jpg)

That is just a small selection of what went out!

I hope to convince the rest of the players that in future play-by-e-mail games it would be just as fun, if not moreso, and just as fair, if the players really try to direct the battle from the perspective of what their PC can see or know. General orders would be given at the start (deployment, objectives, cooperation etc) then alterations (as and when) based on what the PC actually knows. A character’s eye view of things. Because both commanders were magic users in this game that really slowed us down at times, as I communicated back and forth re: spells, dice available, dice used, so that the players had full control over the casting and dispelling details.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on August 23, 2020, 08:42:44 PM
Great stuff! :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::

As usual. :icon_lol:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on August 23, 2020, 08:58:58 PM
Still Sunday, still reading. This is giving me some insight into an upcoming fortress battle. Loved the skitterleep to the gun. That should be fun
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 23, 2020, 09:00:54 PM
I like the way in the pic the Brabanzon gunner closest to Warlord Gurthrak seems to have taken a step back whilst saying "What the ...?"

BTW, Artobahn, what actually happens after the skitterleap is not at all what anyone would expect!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 25, 2020, 10:53:43 PM
The Battle Continued

Having scrambled, quite unladylike, beneath the clattering, shattering shower of bullets-striking-stone, Perette joined the brigands at the side wall, from where she could still see much of the enemy army, concentrated as it was before the gate tower. She could smell the taint of warpstone: a metallic tang in the corporeal air and the stinging sharpness of the etheric breeze.

(https://i.imgur.com/NkVLJHM.jpg)

The enemy were drawing near - the walls might soon be bristling with their ladders. Of course, she could not help but also notice the sudden appearance of the ratman on the tower-top along from hers, what with his array of brightly coloured banners almost doubling his height!

(https://i.imgur.com/xDSRmk2.jpg)

The new engine’s Brabanzon crewmen, surprised as they definitely were, did not want to lose the chance to shoot successfully at least once, not after all their efforts to master the art, and especially as everything was already prepared. So, despite their understandable discomfort at such a close and dangerous magical manifestation, they continued the process of firing!

As the ratman was obscured by the engine, Perette realised she dare not employ her magical fire against him, for fear of blowing up the gun, which seemed a more than likely outcome, if not guaranteed! It also occurred to her that if he was to descend the stairs instead of attacking the gunners, the ratman could open the gate, allowing the enemy to pour into the city. Looking down into the yard below she saw Baron Garoy and his knights waiting, as planned, mounted and ready to challenge whoever made it over the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/E56EArT.jpg)

The young baron had changed considerably since being wounded at Campogrotta. Not only had he been left somewhat slower and more deliberate in his actions, but his past arrogant aloofness had apparently been knocked right out of him! This much became painfully clear when Perette realised that Garoy had developed a romantic fondness for her, something surely impossible before his wounding? Before Campogrotta, she offended him so much that he could not even bear her presence. Now he was genuinely fond of her, grateful for her help and indeed held her in respect – so much so he had agreed it was best that she commanded all the defences while he commanded solely his band of knights.

Well, thought Perette, he was in the right place at the right time. She waved at him, gestured for him to enter the tower, and drew her hand across her neck to indicate some killing was needed inside. Garoy nodded once, then dismounted along with the rest of the knights to lead them into the gate tower.

(https://i.imgur.com/DMxoIeK.jpg)

(Game Note: We could not allow Garoy and his knights simply to charge the tower and thus join in combat with the skaven warlord, as per the WFB 8th ed. building rules, because of the need to dismount first. Considering troops are not allowed to change formation during a charge it seemed right and proper for me as GM to rule that dismounting from horses was similarly disallowed!)

Now that the baron and his knights had gone from the yard, the Brabanzon horsemen would have to do his intended job instead, so they moved along to best position themselves for the task in hand.

(https://i.imgur.com/L0mPhwH.jpg)

Assured that Garoy was on his way to take on the ratman in the gate tower, Perette spun up a fireball and sent it scorching into the badly mauled red regiment, killing two. Not satisfied, she decided to conjure bolts of fire onto the same, but this time the winds tore through her too strongly and spilled out uncontrollably. Another pair of ratmen died, but much of spell’s strength burst from her own body to wash across the rooftop, killing four of the men standing beside her! She was left reeling, confused and ashamed by her error  – this fight was proving very hard upon her despite being atop a stone tower!

(Game Note: Both the Skaven and the brigands passed their Panic tests, the former through luck alone, the latter helped by the fact that they could re-roll their fail. This is another campaign rule for defenders on city or castle walls and towers: they re-roll all failed Ld tests as if the army standard was always within 12”.)

The harmful magic did not badly harm any of the trebuchet crew, but its stinging caress must have at least distracted them, for this time their engine’s hurled rocks landed far wide of the intended mark, damaging only the ground! Meanwhile, the brave gunners on the neighbouring tower, despite the warlord’s presence close by, fired their gun. Its deafening report and impressively large belch of smoke assured them that it must have done well. If they had still been there when the smoke cleared, however, they may have seen that only one of the ratmen in the yellow regiment was killed by their shot!

The brigand archers, despite the horror of the mysterious deaths caused by their beloved lady, finished off the last of the rat ogres staggering in front of the longbowmen’s wall, allowing the latter to loose a volley instead at the severely mauled red regiment, killing three more. Much to everyone’s surprise, friend and foe, this was still not enough to send them running!

(Game Note: They passed their Panic test again!)

Upon the high, thin tower to the right of Perrete’s tower there was a second gun, much lighter than the new contraption, and with only one barrel. The gunner had been waiting until the robed ratmen were in range and now let his linstock down to caress the priming powder with his match. A (loud) moment later he gave a cheer, for he could see four of the enemy had lost their heads! The survivors, now less than half the number who had started the march towards the walls, were untroubled, however, for as Perette had pondered earlier, they were indeed so intent upon killing the enemy in the service of their god that that they cared not a jot for the deaths of their comrades, only that they could get their hands on the foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/qxEYyHC.jpg)

And so it was, now they were close enough to the walls …

(https://i.imgur.com/NfCEBSZ.jpg)

… the plague monks began their charge, hefting their huge ladder as they came within a few steps.

Urlak now summoned Crack’s Call, causing a crevice to appear in the ground running from his own foot towards the gate tower. Perette, momentarily distracted by the rush of events, the swirl of considerations and not least the deaths she had caused, did not attempt to prevent this flow of magic. Urlak’s grin grew wider and wider as the crack sped towards the tower, for he knew its power would take it right to the building. Upon touching the wall, a veritable craze of cracks appeared in the stone, coursing like the branches of a tree, upwards and outwards. Inside, Garoy and his knights realised very quickly the building was about to crumble and turned to leave the same way they had come, although much quicker than when they entered. All but one knight got out! On the tower-top, Warlord Urlak also saw the cracks, and without stopping to wonder why (certainly without time to realise the damage had been caused by his master) he escaped by leaping nimbly over the wall to land outside.

There was nothing the crew of the engine could do, however, for they were too high up for men to jump and a flight of stairs away from the walls. Down went the tower, and so too them and their gun!

(https://i.imgur.com/kzGwN0d.jpg)

The new gun had fired but once, and in so doing had killed merely one enemy warrior, while the trebuchet had slaughtered many tens of warriors. Of those not currently far too distracted to notice the event, several ‘lucky’ wagerers now wondered if they would live to collect their winnings.

Urlak grinned.

(https://i.imgur.com/oB5r0dU.jpg)

No-one would ever know whether he had always intended to topple the tower, and thus potentially his warlord. Perhaps Gurthrak had disappointed him? Offended him? Perhaps he was happy to sacrifice Gurthrak just to draw some more of the foe into the tower before it fell? Perhaps he decided Gurthrak might become stuck with a multitude of arrows from the brigands before he could strike himself? Maybe he did not care? Or did he just forget?

Besides, whatever the truth, it did not matter now. Gurthrak lived, and was left standing, somewhat winded, beyond the rubble.

(https://i.imgur.com/JKD2F2l.jpg)

On the other side, Baron Garoy and his knights were forming into a little company, all the better to face whatever came over the rubble.

(https://i.imgur.com/BG0ToTV.jpg)

The red and yellow regiments had yet failed to reach the walls, but the rat ogres of Urlak’s bodyguard …

(https://i.imgur.com/LvZJDB5.jpg)

… did reach, much to the disconsolation of the poorly armed militia defending its rampart. The three massively monstrous rats hurtled up the wide ladder, and at the top they tore so viciously into the militia that seven perished before they could even lunge their improvised weapons. The rest threw themselves off the wall and scrambled off into the city, whilst behind them the brutes and their whip-wielding packmasters took possession of the battlements and released roaring snarls in bloodthirsy glee.

(https://i.imgur.com/asQAqHX.jpg)

(Game Note: Even with +1 Init’ the peasants did not go first! And despite their re-rolled break test they failed. But who would ever expect ten WS2, Init 2, Ld6 peasants to hold a wall against three frenzied rat ogres?)

Further along the walls, the plague monks, however, found the fight to gain the wall much harder. Forced to use one arm to hold the ladder, and with the wall between them and the elevated foe, they only managed to kill one of the peasant militia, whilst losing three of their own. Their banner, being a cursed shroud of dripping death, fatally infected two more of the defenders, thus evening out the fight somewhat, but it was not enough to take the wall, and the fight continued.

(Game Note: Apparently twelve WS2, Init 2, Ld6 peasants CAN hold a wall against 16 frenzied plague monks! The siege rules say that in a draw the wall is not taken and the attackers are positioned 1” away from it to attack again in their next turn, but as it was a draw, however, the plague monks did not lose their frenzy. Unless the monks died in the intervening Brabanzon phase, we would see if the peasants could repeat the trick later?)

It was now the longbowmen’s turn to experience the explosive peppering of their battlement -  two died to the ratling gun’s bullets and another to the jezzails' shots. As the dust cleared, they set about knocking arrows to their bows. The enemy might be assaulting the wall to their right, had already taken the wall to their left, and their dwarf-gifted gun might be lost, but the trebuchet’s arm was being hauled back into place, Perette was still alive and the enemy had been very badly mauled indeed. There was still a chance, surely? And they were not yet ready to flee!

(End of Turn 3!)

.......

(BTW, I know the story doesn't always stick to the strict order of phases in the game, but it doesn't really change anything, and it really does help the tale unfold better, I think!)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 26, 2020, 09:24:07 PM
The Battle Concluded

Perette squinted as she scoured the cloud of dust caused by the tower’s collapse, looking for a sign that Baron Garoy was alive. Relief suffused her when she caught a glimpse of him. It would be such a shame for a young man so recently reformed to perish. A moment later, he was gone, having moved towards the wall the brutish rats had taken, perhaps intending to prevent their further progress into the city?

(https://i.imgur.com/u7hdSSJ.jpg)

Her attention was drawn to a sudden flurry of movement in amongst the ruins – a large swarm of rats was beginning to flow almost like gushing water over the stone rubble. Realising it might cause considerable trouble for the knights nearby, she conjured up a fireball to hurl at the vermin, but before she could fully hone its corporeal manifestation its ethereal form was dissipated by the enemy wizard’s counter magic. She could sense he was still with the large yellow regiment, and so, hoping he was momentarily exhausted by his efforts, she immediately conjured up a flurry of burning bolts which she sent raining down onto that very same regiment, killing eight of them.

While another load of rocks from the Trebuchet missed its mark, the light gun in the tall tower did not, sending a burst of grapeshot into the robed ratmen as they readied themselves for their next attempt to scale the wall. Six of them perished. Only one of the Brabanzon riders’ arrow stuck the brutes on the wall, but the longbowmen did manage to kill the ratling gun team who had been shooting at them!

These deaths were insufficient to prevent the skaven advance. Both the yellow regiment and the pitiful remnant of the red regiment at last reached the walls, placed their ladders and began ascending.

(https://i.imgur.com/l7xKLed.jpg)

The yellow regiment climbed easily, for the wall was unoccupied. As soon as the rat ogres had spotted the armoured men approaching below them …

(https://i.imgur.com/YxgPlly.jpg)

… their bloodthirsty battle lust caused them to leap down to attack. That frantic, claustrophobic combat was the sight that greeted the yellow regiment as they topped the wall behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/xZXGNPh.jpg)

More and more of the regiment’s clan rats, still numerous despite their mauling by magical fire, were climbing the ladders. Further outside the jezzailers agreed amongst themselves that it would be a terrible shame for them to miss out on the richest pickings in the city, so both companies began lugging their long guns towards the walls.

Seer Lord Urlak decided again to cast skitterleap, as it had worked so well before (despite his subsequent collapsing of the tower) but this time the magic was unraveled by the red-haired enchantress’s interference. 

The few Plague Monks left unblasted, burned or flattened, now re-ascended the ladder to kill five of the peasants and send the rest running from the wall. They lost three more of their own in so doing, but what few remained were momentarily satisfied. Warlord Gurthrak has also charged the wall occupied by the longbowmen, and so rejoined his bonebreaker and the red regiment in their fight. Four longbowmen perished in the struggle, while the skaven were barely scratched. Thus it was that they too took a wall, as the Brabanzon archers ran pell-mell into the street behind. Baron Garoy’s petty-noble companions lost four of their number to the rat ogres’ fury, their armour failing to prevent the brutes’ brute strength snapping their bones. Despite the direness of his situation, the young baron refused to look to his own safety, and the last of his brave companions chose to stand with him.

Someone on the tower top shouted, “They’re coming! Please, my lady, get out!” and Perette realised that either the red regiment or the monkish ratmen (or both) must be moving along the walls upon either side of the tower. If she did not go now, they could trap her at the top. Leaping across to the stairs she almost threw herself down them, perilously taking the steep, stone steps two or three at a time, bouncing and sliding along the wall in equal measure. When she burst out into the street behind she saw that the Barabanzon longbowmen had rallied in the street and were forming themselves into a line, and that the company's riders had moved over near to the tower, as if they had known she was coming.

(https://i.imgur.com/sHN8kh1.jpg)

She could see the situation was growing desperate, especially as the walls elsewhere had been taken too. For now, she decided she could only deal with the most immediate threat, which was without a doubt the ratmen on the wall above her!

(https://i.imgur.com/N4lPxUU.jpg)

The winds of magic were weak, but she wound enough etheric essence into her conjuring to send a fireball of some size blazing at the foe. The bonebreaker’s platform, upon which Gurthrak had ridden before he was skitterleaped away, burst into flames, as did several patches of its fur, while two clanrats tumbled, writhing and screeching from the wall. The survivors, Gurthrak included, scrabbled over the wall and down the ladders, having entirely lost the will to take any more of the cruel punishment they had thus far endured.

They would not stop running for some time!

As the last few red regiment warriors frantically stumbled, smoking, from the base of the wall, picking up their pace as they found their breath, a shadow moved past them. Another load of rocks barreled through the air and smashed right into the yellow regiment, killing thirteen! Perhaps because they were divided by the wall, the survivors did not flee; but the ones outside did redouble their efforts to get up the ladder and onto what they hoped was the safety of the wall!

(https://i.imgur.com/dK4JIqh.jpg)

Lord Urlak took a brief moment to look from the wall …

(https://i.imgur.com/Ld61GeB.jpg)

… from where he could see the riders, Baron Garoy’s final struggle against the rat ogres, Gurthrak’s departure, the enemy horse and foot soldiers made ready for the fight in the street below and the red haired wizardess. On sight of her, fierce anger threatened to overwhelm him, but at that very moment he noticed the trebuchet was being dragged about to face him and the yellow regiment, even now they were on the walls! Hissing in frustration, he snarled a command, and he and the warriors with him made their way in to the corner tower which they hoped would protect them.

The brutes fighting the knights suddenly realised there was no-one left for them to kill. Baring their teeth and growling, they looked around them hungrily for someone or something else to pull apart. Below them, beneath their drooling blood and spit, with a taloned foot pressing down hard on its crumpled breastplate, lay the mangled corpse of Baron Garoy.

Lord Urlak, busy squeezing into what he hoped was the safety of the tower, did not know it, but the trebuchet would not have the chance to shoot again. The last of the frenzied Plague Monks had rushed out onto the main tower top, furiously tearing into the brigands and the crewmen, killing some with their blades, while two more fell to the curse of their magical banner. They then easily cut down the last of the Brabanzon attempting to flee by way of the stairs Perette had used.

Down in the street, Perette could hear the screams and commotion. When she looked up she saw the crazed ratmen and their ugly banner peering over the crenulations.

(https://i.imgur.com/oKzysyY.jpg)

Rats were swarming across the rubble of the gate tower, while ratmen and brutes had already gained access to one of the city’s quarters. The jezzailers were about to begin their ascent over the walls, and somewhere lurked a skaven wizard powerful enough to collapse fortified towers with his magic. The city was lost, surely, and the veteran soldiers of the Brabanzon knew it.

Perette was bruised, battered and bewildered, and suddenly found herself in a moment of calm. Just as she entertained, in her confusion, the mad notion that she could sit and rest a while, there came a commanding voice.

“My lady, mount, if you please. Make haste, I beg of you, for we must leave immediately!”

(https://i.imgur.com/kqaPcaW.jpg)

Game over.

...

Game Notes:
5 turns played out of 7 or 8 possible in an assault scenario. The skaven had definitely won in terms of victory conditions (i.e. controlling wall, tower and internal sections). Of course, Perette and the last of the Brabanzon could have stayed to fight to the end. But, she is an NPC in the campaign, so I talked with the player running her in the battle, discussing what she and her company might do, then I diced on the final decision. She would escape to fight another day! This I think is a good story, and even the Skaven player was happy because he enjoys the campaign story too and likes Perette's character very much! I am now working on new figures for the band she will become a part of, and have even acquired a figure for a mounted version of her. She might just become an heroic 'outlaw' type, and have a few adventures left in her yet. Then again, considering the fate of young Baron Garoy in this game, she might just die in her next encounter! The campaign is driven by events in the form of choices, actions, cause and effect, and chance. I am not an 'author' with god-like control of the NPCs. I just dice for their decisions and responses, based on what options they might consider, then write what happens to them, as I did above!

If you have any questions about the game, please do ask. If I can answer without revealing something the players in the campaign should not know, I will!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 13, 2020, 07:57:06 PM
Once More at Pontremola
A Battle Report


(https://i.imgur.com/a9PXnhn.jpg)

As the Duchess Maria’s army progressed to the Bridge of Pontremola, Biagino rode upon his magnificent corpse-carroccio with plenty of time to think. When he was alive, he had fought at the very same bridge, during the somewhat unexpected victory of the Holy Army of Viadaza (known also as the ‘Peasant Army’), where he witnessed the vampire duke’s death at the hands of the hero, General Urbano D’Alessio.

Back then, Biagino had been fighting for the living, and while he waited nervously at the river, his future sire’s sire, the vampire Duke of Miragliano had presumably made this exact same journey, doubtlessly expecting victory in battle.

Here and now, Biagino was not so sure.

He remembered dreaming of that first battle, even before it, for the feeble god Morr had woven many a wretched vision into his slumbers. Those intangible, half-remembered riddles were all that Morr had gifted him, messages so nebulous he only ever seemed to recognise their prophetic nature in retrospect, and even then, without conviction. Now, however, he saw (felt, smelt, tasted and heard) the world much more clearly, and wielded real powers of consequence, even commanding an entire army of walking corpses – his unholy Church of Nagash. No more mumbling of prayers in the Classical tongue, hoping for some luck to come his way, or for the enemy to feel the slight rebuke of a somnolescent half-god. Now he could make his bambinos dance most sprightfully and spitefully, several hundreds at a time. And should they fall to the foe’s blades, he could command them to rise again and fight on. He himself had become nimble, strong and resilient – quite the opposite of the sluggardly creature he had been in life, who ached in every march and winced at every scratch and scrape. Once prey, he was now predator. And most importantly, he had a purpose stronger than he had ever known before: to serve his mistress in every way possible.

Yet, despite all this, he was anxious. Pontremola was not at all an auspicious place for vampires. Worse still, he himself had already faced the enemy they were about to engage, in the Trantine necropolis valley of Norochia, when he had so swiftly recognised the certain defeat awaiting him that he was forced to abandon nearly his entire army and run for miles.

The enemy was commanded again by the Portomaggioran Lord Alessio D’Urbano, an experienced general capable of mustering grand alliances and renowned for his tactical prowess. They were upon the far side of a river in the full flow of spring, ensconced in a fortified camp from which they could spew cannon shot, bolts and bullets at their leisure …

(The fortified camp at Pontremola)
(https://i.imgur.com/4xFxfQ0.jpg)

Their cannons had proved so numerous and powerful in Norochia that they had torn both his Mortis Engine and Terrorgheist to pieces with their balls of iron before they could even cross the valley floor. Here also they had a monstrous, magical construct, the same titan that had melted an entire company of hexwraiths at Norochia.

On approaching the duchess to reveal his trepidation, she laughed as soon as she saw the expression on his face, ordering him to put any and all concerns from his mind. Today, she said, they would break the back of the most powerful army in Tilea; and then tomorrow, so sated that they would surely cry sanguine tears of joy, they would raise that same army up into their own service and conquer the rest of the realm with it.

When his frown had lingered a moment longer, she caressed his cheek and said, “They sent an army of cultists to stop me, each and every one dedicated to Morr and entirely careless of their lives. I slaughtered all of them and made them into your toys. Now we can play together. Won’t that be so very nice?”

There was no arguing with his mistress.

And so, surrounded by his flock of followers, he now rode at the far right of the army’s line.

(https://i.imgur.com/uPGIfeY.jpg)

Maria was with her horse guard, flanked by the varghiests.

(https://i.imgur.com/a1Ma4u0.jpg)

Her military lieutenant, the vampire Captain Bernhardt, commanded the second regiment of skeletal horse, out on the far left of the line.

(https://i.imgur.com/Z5O2EWW.jpg)

At the heart of her army the Mortis Engine glided unnaturally forwards, the great weight of its ornate metal and bone carcass born aloft by a writhing mass of glowing, green ethereal spirits.

(https://i.imgur.com/csPVw1E.jpg)

Beside the magical engine loped a large mob of dire wolves, then a body of brute-zombies.

(https://i.imgur.com/qvD6RVj.jpg)

And upon its other side, between it and the duchess, leapt the varghiests, their leathery wings flapping furiously.

(https://i.imgur.com/qDNJ2JW.jpg)

Thus was the vanguard deployed. Behind this front line marched two further regiments, in the form of zombies and skeletons, between which a corpse cart, simple in comparison to Biagino’s majestic transport, trundled along.

(https://i.imgur.com/q2djXwp.jpg)

This was the force that the Duchess Maria brought with her from Ebino.

(https://i.imgur.com/LrGVnIm.jpg)



The army of Portomaggiore and its Reman allies had marched many leagues to be here. Most felt relief that the enemy had chosen to attack them in their fortified and naturally moated camp rather than force them to attempt an assault of the formidable walls of Ebino. Some were just relieved that they would at last get to fight the enemy they had travelled so far to reach. Indeed, because so many had watched the ignominious defeat of the undead army at Norochia, they had less fear than mortals would usually feel upon facing such a foe.

Of course, when the enemy hove into view, a surge of doubt washed through them, for such a grisly sight forces the living to think of death, and at the very moment when the prospect of battle meant the subject already weighed heavily in their thoughts. To die at the hands of the undead, knowing that might then be doomed to share their horrible fate, is never something that inspires confidence!

Lord Alessio Falconi commanded them, as well as personally leading his armoured foot regiment of men at arms known as the ‘Sea Wolves’. Presuming that the enemy must surely concentrate their attack at the bridge itself, rather that throw everything they had into the rushing waters, he and his guard defended the barricade erected at its southern end – perhaps the most important spot in the line.

(https://i.imgur.com/GuEXUHc.jpg)

He had a Reman priest of Morr with him, Father Dado Bendali, as well as his battle standard bearer. The rest of his field officers were far to his right in the line. Lord Ned Black, his second in command, rode a demigryph with fearsome ‘The Hunting Pack’…

(https://i.imgur.com/nIRdN0D.jpg)

… while out on the farthest right flank the Tilean nobleman Marcus Portelli commanded the Black Guard, a large company of mounted men at arms.

(https://i.imgur.com/GuBiVgd.jpg)

The Knights of the Lady, led by Brother Libero Grossi, a priest of Myrmidiea, were beside the Hunting Pack. Next to them at the heart of the battle line, stood the Colossus ...

(https://i.imgur.com/xFtIlgh.jpg)

… which had once guarded the landward gate of the city of Portomaggiore. His guns, a brace of brass barrelled cannon, where mounted upon his earthwork bastion, supported by his two companies of handgunners.

(https://i.imgur.com/mlwM2Uy.jpg)

The Reman brigade, commanded to man the rest of the defences, consisted of two large bodies of crossbowmen (one mercenary dwarfs) as well as a small company of skirmishing bravi and the remnant of a regiment of dwarfs. Alessio’s own crossbow were placed at the wall behind his mounted men at arms.

This was the army that awaited Maria.

(https://i.imgur.com/zW1LXzw.jpg)

Deployment done. Battle to follow

Note: Thank you to DamoB for lending me his army for this our second play-by-email game. Nearly all the Living army is his, apart from the Remans.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 15, 2020, 11:21:56 PM
The Fight, Part One

(https://i.imgur.com/Z6QVVcy.jpg)

From the front rank of his regiment of Sea Wolves, Lord Alessio surveyed the enemy before him, and realised they obviously intended to swarm the bridge and overcome it with weight of numbers. Two huge mobs of zombies, wearing the ragged remains of Disciplinati di Morr robes (revealing what they once were in life) advanced either side of a huge carroccio, directly towards the bridge.

(https://i.imgur.com/jOgnsen.jpg)

From Lord Black’s position, the enemy looked considerably different, taking the form of bony riders, demonic beasts and the Mortis Engine. He could just make out a woman amongst them, mounted upon a red-barded horse, and realised that she must be the duchess Maria herself.

(https://i.imgur.com/pMx9N11.jpg)

“Good,” he thought. “Come to me my lady and I will help you complete your interrupted journey to death.”

Not a soldier moved from his allotted place amongst the living. The wizard Hakim, yet to worry about commanding his magnificent contrivance the Colossus, attempted to conjure a protective spell and was unsurprised to find the enemy had enough users of magic to sap the winds and prevent his success. Magical manipulations rarely stopped bolts and bullets, however, and just as Hakim accepted his spell was broken, the artillery began to boom.

The foremost cannon, at the very tip of the bastion, sent an enchanted roundshot deep into the Mortis Engine, but to no apparent effect! (Game Note: Miscast, re-roll, hits, but scores 1 to wound!) The second cannon, its gunner seeing the disappointing effect of the other’s efforts, chose instead to target the skeletal riders out upon the foe’s very far left flank. His shot also hit, but this time with some consequence, for one of the riders shattered into pieces. The gunnr did not know it, but the ball had also severely grazed the vampire captain Bernhardt on its passage.

(https://i.imgur.com/i0RdWwQ.jpg)

Berhardt was caught entirely by surprise by this, only hearing the cannon’s report a moment later!

The mortar’s grenade landed very wide of its mark, but the Dwarfen and Reman crossbow regiments did manage to fell a handful of zombies.

This frail assault by the living, albeit only missile and magic, might have been a welcome surprise, perhaps even an encouragement, to many armies. Most of Maria’s soldiers, however, were not burdened with such awareness, nor very much in the way of thoughts at all! As one,and entirely regardless of their fortune so far, her army (and the army of the Church of Nagash) moved on, with the mounted and monstrous companies nearest to Maria quickly outstripping the rest, so much so that the vargheists almost reached the river!

(https://i.imgur.com/Qi6Qldv.jpg)

The massed skeletons and zombies in the rear moved as best they could, while hidden amongst them the Necromancer Saffiro now speculated that the battle might well be over before he and the foot soldiers even reached the enemy!

The Army of the Church of Nagash  …

(https://i.imgur.com/phxTt6K.jpg)

… was led by Biagino and drew its magical nourishment from his vampiric will, so it they came on much quicker than Maria’s own footsoldiers, although the largest regiment was slowed by the need to reform its ranks and files all the better to cross the bridge.

(https://i.imgur.com/GJSWiCE.jpg)

(Game Note: The need to reform was entirely my own fault, for I was supposed to be in command of this NPC army, while David had volunteered to command Maria’s army, and I just plonked two hordes down in deployment without thinking through what they had to do next!)

The vampire duchess threw a magical missile at the demigryphs, but such was their armour that it had no effect upon them. Exasperated at her failure, she turned instead to heal her captain of his wound (and glad he was of it too). Biagino employed what few wisps of the etheric wind were left to conjure Vanhel’s Dance Macabre on his shambling bambinos, hoping to move them all much closer to the foe than any natural motion could achieve, but the spell collapsed as the enemy’s powerful wizard raised up contrary eddies to dissipate its power.

Now the crossbows were re-spanned, the handguns reloaded, the cannons re-shotted, and all just as  the undead came within range of every weapon the living could bring to bear.

(https://i.imgur.com/qrPnCRr.jpg)

The Colossus had not moved for over an an hour, standing so still that the necromancer Saffiro had (for a moment at least) entertained the thought that it was indeed merely a statue. Until, that is, he sensed the immense power animating it. Now, however, it did move – turning its head to look directly at Maria.

(https://i.imgur.com/NGnUTlw.jpg)

It loomed over her, and yet she felt no fear.

(https://i.imgur.com/RMJaIda.jpg)

She knew that compared to the demigryph hunting pack, such a thing would be easy to kill. She had the harder undertaking on her mind.

The wizard Hakim made his way to the other flank of the huge regiment of spearmen, all the better to see the most dangerous foes.

(https://i.imgur.com/TFIHMcQ.jpg)

What drew his eyes most was the spectral forms of the Hexwraiths, riding beside Maria’s knights.

(https://i.imgur.com/l29CPni.jpg)

And so he conjured Shem’s Burning Gaze to throw at them. Maria must have been distracted, for her countermagics tumbled chaotically to nought, and four of the ghostly riders where removed from the mortal world entirely. This event was not missed by the marksman Lupo ‘the Wolf’ Lorenzo’s keen eyes, who, having kissed his magical arbalest for good luck, sent not less than three blessed bolts to finish off the last of the wraiths.

When the necromancer Saffiro felt his mistress’s momentary distress, he unrolled his dispel scroll and made sure to stop whatever magic the enemy’s powerful wizard would surely conjure on the back of Maria’s discomfort. (Game Note: Banishment on the vargheists, at 2D6 S4 hits, stopped with a scroll!) Hakim cursed as he felt the spell’s power die, while the Colossus turned its had again to look down upon his master’s intended target.

(https://i.imgur.com/E21waCM.jpg)

Saffiro had sensed that Hakim intended harm on the vargheists, but then both he and Hakim were surprised (although in somewhat different senses) to see that despite the spell’s failure, two of the winged creatures were felled by the storm of bolts and bullets issued from the handgunners and crossbowmen on the wall behind. Despite the much more massive mob of wolves loping towards them …

(https://i.imgur.com/RLr9Ff8.jpg)

… they too had known where the real danger lay, and thus their shooting.

Out on the far right of the undead lines Biagino’s army of the Church of Nagash had been targeted too.

(https://i.imgur.com/vKN9LOZ.jpg)

The gunners with the Portomaggorian mortar had high hopes their piece would tear great holes in the enemy’s lines, but these hopes were dashed - as indeed where they - when their engine shivered killing them all! The Reman crossbowmen upon the wall right beside the mortar, however, did not let its explosion distract them, and sent a flurry of bolts sufficiently accurately to slay four of the corpse carroccio’s draught horses. Then moments later the dwarfen crossbowmen took down another three.

(https://i.imgur.com/KG78mAu.jpg)

(Note: The picture shows two, but that’s because I am the fool who based the models in pairs for ‘convenience’!

(Game Note: The carroccio’s move was now reduced to 1” due to the special rules we agreed on before the game. Because the model is so big – being 13” long – it’s four pairs of horses were to be classed as one unit and the carroccio itself as another. Any loss of the horses would result in a proportionate loss of its already small movement!)

Meanwhile the cannoneers knew exactly what they wanted to hurt – the monstrously large Mortis Engine gliding at the very centre of the enemy force, as if it were its vile, beating heart.

(https://i.imgur.com/SevrMWW.jpg)

This time the shots were both deep and damaging, plummeting  through the entire length of the Mortis Engine with such power that the whole construct collapse in on its wake to be utterly destroyed.

(Game Note: Direct hit by magical, flaming and ignore all wards blessed cannonball, then a roll of 6 for the number of wounds!)

For the briefest moment there was silence, then a radiating wave of lighted energy burst out from the collapsing engine’s core, damaging the Colossus, killing a Myrmidian Knight of the Lady, and amongst Maria’s force, bringing down three dire wolves, one black knight, one skeleton and three zombies. The last of the Vargheists was entirely obliterated by the shockwave!

Perhaps the scale of the first cannon’s success distracted the second cannon’s crew, because they now fumbled their powder and shot, and found themselves having to worm out and reload the piece, which would take considerable time, cursing at their bad luck whilst at the same time, elated to know the Mortis Engine was gone.

As they prepared to deliver their charges, Maria’s army looked a lot less threatening than it had only moments before!

(https://i.imgur.com/NZzuk2z.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 15, 2020, 11:23:27 PM
The battle has begun! :smile2: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 24, 2020, 09:49:12 AM
And it now continues!

The Fight, Part Two

While Maria’s foot soldiers shuffled forwards in the rear, becoming increasingly bereft of her driving will by the growing distance between them and her …

(https://i.imgur.com/5ShbUQK.jpg)

… she herself led the armoured horsemen in a charge across the river into the Demigryphs commanded by Ned Black. Two of her bone and ancient steel companions succumbed to the fast-flowing waters, but neither she nor the other riders noticed.

(https://i.imgur.com/lPszZEE.jpg)
(Picture taken before the removal of the dangerous terrain casualties.)

Perhaps Captain Bernhardt was not quite as filled with fury as the duchess, possibly as a consequence of his recent close shave with an iron shot? Whatever the reason, his own company of riders failed to charge against the foe, instead milling somewhat confusedly upon the far side of the rushing river.

(https://i.imgur.com/7Py8pav.jpg)

Biagino, atop his now slow-moving carroccio, commanded his bambinos to advance as best and fast they can, and of course they obliged, drawing very close to the river and the still-intact bridge of Pontremola itself.

(https://i.imgur.com/hUPHact.jpg)

Despite the blood-fury that gripped her, Maria realised that if the demigryphs managed to keep her busy for more than a few moments, then the knights to her right could charge into her flank, most likely overwhelming her guards and bringing about her final demise, and so she summoned up a little company of zombies - resurrected from the corpses still lying in the mud of the river from the last battle – and willed them to place themselves in such a way as to distract the knights (at least for a little while).

(https://i.imgur.com/NWpSnrV.jpg)
(Game Note: The old trick of getting in the way, while angled in such a manner to make an overrunning enemy unable to charge Maria)

Nevertheless, the vampire duchess wanted to defeat the monstrous foe as soon as possible, and so chose to use magic to make her attacks even more deadly, conjuring Dance Macabre. As the spell flowed through her she knew its success was certain, but then, half a moment later, she also knew that she had brought far too much power to bear upon its conjuration. Several strands of the winds of magic now crashed like waves against each other, then burst outwards calamitously. One of the enemy demigryphs was caught fully by the etheric surge and perished immediately, as did four of Maria’s own riders. Maria scowled, for even she felt its burn and was weakened considerably by her mistake.

What few wisps of etheric wind remained were gathered by Biagino, hoping to drive his servants dancing en-masse over the bridge and river, but the enemy Wizard Hakim found it easy to unwind the spell, having little else to distract him.

And so it was, just as Maria’s blade was able to begin it’s work proper, she found herself with only a handful of companions. Still, her lust for battle remained so strong that she made straight for Lord Black, knowing he was a commander and intending to make him pay dearly for the damage already done to her servants (and her pride).

(https://i.imgur.com/0KJRuJw.jpg)

(Game Note: Here began the most complicated combat I have ever attempted to run. Normally I GM whilst the player’s play, and so they recall, mention and apply all the relevant rules. As this was play by email, the players were indeed commanding and deciding on all movement, magic, shooting etc, but when it came to combat it was me on my lonesome armed with the army lists, rules and dice and trying to apply everything. The Vampiress Maria alone had +1 to hit (Sword of Striking), Red Fury (unsaved wounds generate extra attacks), Beguile (base to base models need to pass an Ld-3 test or be forced to re-roll successful to hits), Nightshroud (+1 AS, those in base contact lose Str bonuses and gain Always Strike Last), re-roll failed to hits (Dance Macabre), and she was on a nightmare. That’s just her – not Ned, or the Black Knights, or the demigryphs! I am certain I must, no matter how hard I tried, have forgotten something.)

Catching Lord Black’s eye, Maria knew she had befuddled him momentarily with her mesmeric glare, and in the first flush of the struggle her sword twice bit deep into his ferocious mount. As she drew the blade back in satisfaction, and made ready for another bout of sword play, she realised that she herself had been cut by Lord Black. Around her, two more of her riders fell, whilst the demigryphs were only grazed in return!

As Lord Black shouted, “Deos imperate omnes”, and the demigryphs reared and roared, Maria felt uncertainty for the first time in a long time. It was a foul but familiar feeling, for she remembered it from life. Until this moment it had had no place in her undeath!

(Game note, the Undead had won the combat by a measly 1, but Lord Black’s unit is stubborn and passed their Ld test.)

Her progeny, Biagino and Captain Berhnardt, sensed her discomfort. What with Biagino stranded upon his almost wrecked carroccio whilst failing in his conjurations, and Berhnardt floundering with his warriors at the river bank having failed to join his mistress’s charge, they both, in their own particular ways, shared Maria’s feeling of doubt.     

Along the defences near the bridge it was becoming clear that whatever missiles were thrown at the shambling hordes, and however many of the lesser mob the river carried away, many zombies would remain to assault the defences. Yet, at the same time, ever man and dwarf there reckoned his chances against such clumsy and awkward foes.

(https://i.imgur.com/fLFF4NQ.jpg)

Lord Alessio’s Myrmidian warrior-priest, Libero Grossi, led the Knights of the Lady in the short charge against the newly summoned zombies …

(https://i.imgur.com/Dkd3b8g.jpg)

… while nearby the wizard Lord Hakim cast Shem’s Burning Gaze between his Colossus’s legs, felling five of Captain Bernhardt’s bony riders, then, with not a moment’s rest, he cast Banishment too (before the Colossus moved and perhaps blocked his view) bringing down yet another rider. Moment’s later another two riders were killed by crossbow quarrels, leaving vampire Captain Bernhardt with only two companions. His confused frustration was now transforming into burning fury at the course the battle was taking.

(https://i.imgur.com/uMEWEU2.jpg)

The cannon at the very tip of the bastion sent an enchanted round-shot to wound one of the horrors, and consequently, now afflicted by a weakening magic, the horrors lost one of their number to the handgun bullets and crossbow bolts hurled subsequently.

The vampire duchess had become blind to all other considerations but the killing of Lord Black …

(https://i.imgur.com/r06Rd0J.jpg)

… and despite her diminutive size compared to the demigryph and rider, she did indeed cut him down.

Lord Black was dead.

Overcome with the gleeful thrill of her successful slaughter she let loose a blood-curdling scream. But then, as the last of her companions was fatally cut and crumpled into the mud of the river bank, her scream transformed to become a most dreadful and desperate cry. The necromantic magic that coursed through her, feeding her every thought and action, sustaining her continued existence in the mortal realm, was ebbing away. Her cry faltered, then suddenly ceased as she fell entirely lifeless from her collapsing mount.

The vampire duchess was dead! 

(Game Note: End of First Player’s turn 3.)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 24, 2020, 11:06:58 AM
Seems like a brutal battle!  The undead crashing into the demi-gryphs is quite the shot! :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 25, 2020, 03:31:36 PM
Thanking you, GP. Here's the finale ...

-----------------------------

The Fight, Part Three

The death of his beloved duchess hit Biagino like a crashing wave, so much so that he staggered back from the shock of it.

(https://i.imgur.com/caSlbYW.jpg)

His cause of being, his purpose, his every goal was taken from him in that moment. There was nothing now but himself and no point in continuing. After allowing himself to let loose a shrill shriek of despair, he commanded his bambini to turn away from the enemy, which they did to a one.

(https://i.imgur.com/LbgiVgr.jpg)

The surviving draft horses did what they could to haul the great carroccio around, but Biagino knew that to stay upon the wagon now would only draw the enemy’s attention and so he leapt down to the ground and strode over towards the great mob of once-cultists now approaching. His only wish was to get away from this place where his mistress had perished.



The death of his beloved duchess hit Captain Berhardt like a crashing wave, so much so that he was almost unhorsed by the shock of it.

His cause of being, his purpose, his every goal was taken from him in that moment. There was nothing now but himself and no point in continuing. After allowing himself to let loose a shrill shriek of fury, he commanded his last two companions to charge the foe.

Splashing through the river he made directly for the Demigryphs.

(https://i.imgur.com/m671IDb.jpg)

His only wish was to slay those who had killed his mistress.

...

The necromancer Saffiro had not obeyed the duchess out of anything akin to fierce love, but rather a fearful respect, and saw no reason to avenge her death as did the vampire captain. Besides, he could see Biagino’s Church of Nagash was departing the field of battle. Apart from the dire wolves, who were commanded by Bernhardt to join him in the charge, Saffiro was able to command every other body of undead to turn about and begin moving away from the river. As they did so, several skeletons and zombies collapsed, for Saffiro’s will, being to the duchess’s will as a dusty law book would be to a long and barbed whip, was insufficient to hold all of them in this world, and much less commanding in its magical tone.

(https://i.imgur.com/MDwk0ZY.jpg)

Even some of the dire wolves fell to the sudden diminishment of magic, and another was washed away by the river.

Game Note: The following pic gives an idea of the scale of the flight – although this was taken just before Biagino was moved over to the red and grey robed zombie cultists.

(https://i.imgur.com/SYbfmyT.jpg)

As he drew near to his bambini, Biagino’s grief lifted just enough for him to notice that they were moving away in a manner not one iota different to that which they had entered the field. The duchess’s death, victory, defeat, advance or retreat - all was the same to them. There was a clarity to this, and for the briefest moment Biagino realised that he had, in his terrible loss, been released. His bambini were his, as they were before, but now he belonged to himself too!

(https://i.imgur.com/TxTVFa3.jpg)

He now joined his flock eagerly, glad to have the great bulk of them between himself and whatever else the enemy would throw.

(https://i.imgur.com/LJP99i1.jpg)

As he arrived amongst the cavorting corpse-cultists he attempted once again to cast Dance Macabre and this time, much to his surprise, his spell was successful. Was this how things would be, he thought, now that he was his own master? As both his flocks of bambini began their magically induced dash, he found himself carried along with them, and with every step he took his sense of liberation grew, marred only by a new and growing resentment of his past enthrallment to the duchess.

(https://i.imgur.com/Ghh75jG.jpg)

As Bernhardt and the demigryphs fought, at first evenly matched, the colossus strode across the river, unaccompanied by any of those nearby, for to a man they did not fancy their chances in crossing the river. The Wizard Hakim was keen to do what harm he could to the retreating enemy and decided that his servile construct might better his chances of doing do.

(https://i.imgur.com/96LmxF0.jpg)

Lord Alessio, as yet unaware that the duchess was dead, was astonished by the enemy’s sudden reversal. He watched from behind the bridge defences and thought back to the necropolis valley of Norochia. It dawned on him that they must have received a deadly blow, for that was what had sent them running that last time.

“They run!” he cried, throwing his hand up in surprise. “Yet again, they run!”

(https://i.imgur.com/nEgMowA.jpg)

When he caught sight of the colossus stomping out to the right he knew that most of the rest of them must also be retreating. How many times would he have to fight them? How much further north would he be forced to march? Whatever the truth, he intended to see them off today, and if any thought to make a stand or try some last counter-attack, then good - he would finish them.

“Sea Wolves! March on!” he boomed, and those in the front rank began to push over the barricade.

(https://i.imgur.com/STGdSZ3.jpg)

The Wizard Lord Hakim, seeing that several of the enemy’s monstrous warriors were attempting to escape, angrily summoned up Shem’s Burning Gaze to fell one of the blue-skinned brutes and badly burn another. As he grinned in satisfaction he realised that his anger had got the better of him, for there were still etheric energies coiled around him, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. These now dissipated, and as they drew away across the seam between the mortal realm and the etheric, they took a part of Hakim with them too. His anger vanished, as did his knowledge of the spell, and for a moment he stood, stunned, wide eyed and strangely empty. (Game Note: Miscast, reduced to magic level 3. As GM I will have to come up with a recovery chart of some kind for him to roll on later!)

An iron round-shot now shattered the last of the carroccio’s draft horses, ensuring it would not leave the field. Several of the more devout amongst that flank of the army, especially those who prayed especially to Morr, were pleased by this, for now the wagon could be recaptured and either purified or burned - it mattered not which, only that it would no longer be defiled.

Several skeletons fell to the hail of shot from over the river, as indeed did another of the brutes.

When the mounted men at arms of the Black Guard and the Knights of the Lady both turned to face enemy engaged with the demigryphs they discovered that their assistance was not needed!

(https://i.imgur.com/6n4hP9K.jpg)

The last of the skeletal riders, all but one of the wolves and the vampire Captain Bernhardt had all fallen to the monstrous talons and sharp blades of the hunting pack. The undead Bernhardt was undone. Now he was merely dead.

The skeletal regiment had reformed to face the Colossus, while Saffiro made his own way off the field. Smelling a trap, the Colossus lurched off to one, remaining close enough to cast magic but not so close as to allow the warriors to swarm him. Then it saw its chance and strode between the two mobs, the better to see the fleeing necromancer. Both cannons fired at the undead brutes but their gunners over-compensated for the range and sent their shots overhead.

As the Church of Nagash and its master, the arch-priest Biagino left the field, Saffiro suddenly stopped, thinking to resurrect some of the fallen brutes.

(https://i.imgur.com/ss5e00V.jpg)

His spell however was not strong enough and was easily dispelled by Hakim, despite the living wizard’s addled state of mind. When the ground shook, Saffiro suddenly realised how close he was to the colossus …

(https://i.imgur.com/zcpmB2Q.jpg)

.. and turned to run after the Church of Nagash. Moments later he sensed magic being directed at him by the giant construct, and despite his growing panic, managed to dispel it. His relief was cut short however, when the colossus followed by casting its own burning gaze. The etheric heat that now engulfed Saffiro was so strong that for a moment his very bones could be seen as his threadbare robes disintegrated and his blotched flesh burned away. And then even the bones were gone.

As the now lordless skeletons floundered, their ranks starting to splinter and scatter, and as the zombies staggered and stumbled over each other in their confusion, the corpse cart and the last of crypt horrors (having lost another of their number to a cannon shot) fled from the field, to join in the wake of the Church of Nagash.

A cheer rippled through the ranks of the living. Having crossed the bridge, Lord Alessio took a moment to give thanks to all the lawful gods for their great victory, then calmly gave the order for the army to assemble upon the northern side of the river with him. He intended to give chase immediately. He was tired of pursuing this enemy and if they could be caught and killed today it would be worth all the effort required, howsoever exhausted his army would be by the end of the day, and even if it meant the loss of a few more brave souls.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 06, 2020, 07:35:51 PM
Examples
Ravola, Spring 2404

Gradger sounded breathless when he arrived in the square, but this indicated nothing for certain as the wheezing function of his mask always made him sound so. He made his way immediately to the chattel overseer, Adragash.

“I have order-commands from the lord-master himself. You must obey prompt-quick. Yes, yes?”

(https://i.imgur.com/AvtgGe0.jpg)

Adragash’s lips parted to bare his teeth. He clutched a long whip as did all his helps, the handle of which he rested upon his shoulder so that the twisted hemp and wire cord hung down his back. Upon his head he had a leather cap with little iron cheek plates a-dangling at the sides, and in his other hand he carried a blade in the way in which one might carry a cane.

“Calm yourself,” Adragash hissed. “I always obey and never delay. You have no need to deliver such advice-warnings. Just-simply say what should and must be done, and it will be.”

Gradger now remembered how much he disliked the overseer. Admittedly, there were few skaven, if any, he did like, but there were gradations to his antipathy, from minor irritation to deep loathing, and Adragash was on the higher end of the scale. Still, this was the overseers’ domain, and all the skaven around were his to command, and so (as almost always) his dislike was something he had to make at least some effort to conceal.

“The chattel-slaves,” he said, pointing needlessly at the crowded cage that had been erected in the square, “they needs-must be prepared.”

Agradash did not move, nor did he speak, merely narrowed his eyes a little.

“Well,” said Gradger more loudly. “Prepare them!”

(https://i.imgur.com/kmrV2A7.jpg)

“I will do so, most keen and carefully. But you must speak-say more, Gradger-friend. For here they are, penned and patient, awaiting our command-orders. But what is the order? Are they to be fed? Moved? Made ready for labour-work? Speak-reveal exactly what the lord-master requires.”

Gradger was mentally lifting Adragash’s name up his list, to join those he despised the very most.

“They must be moved, made ready to be butchered if-when the order is given,” he said.

“Then they will be, I promise and assure,” answered the overseer. “But where to go? And how to kill?”

“They are to be made examples of, if necessary-needed” said Gradger. “Outside the city walls. I will show you where.”

“Examples ‘if necessary’? ‘If needed’?” said Adragash, in a curious tone. “How so? For whom? And why?”

“No question-talk is required. Only dutiful obeisance, yes?” said Gradger in a commanding manner.

“At least,” asked the overseer, “if nothing more, reveal-tell how they are to be butchered, so that preparations might be made for a suitable, satisfactory and swift execution of their execution.”

“Their corpses are to adorn-decorate the land around the city, to strike fright-fear into any foe that approaches.”

“Is this enemy expected or one that might merely perhaps come?” asked Adragash.

(https://i.imgur.com/Iq1XYJ3.jpg)

For a moment Gradger’s urge to appear important and informed got the better of him, and instead of again insisting on Adragash’s immediate action, he said,

“Manthing riders have been seen close-near to the city. Perhaps outrider-scouts for an army bringing aid-relief too late? If-when that army does arrive, they are to witness what is promised to be done to them, so they know terror-fear.”

“Grisly deaths and mangled corpses?” suggested Adragash.

“Yes, yes! They are to be stake-skewered and left to stink-rot,” said Gradger.

“Stakes, you say-speak,” said the overseer, his curious tone carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Stakes yet to be made?”

“Yes, yes. You must make them and you must place them. The soldiers have much else to do and are to be ever and always ready for battle.”

“The chattel-slaves will make their own stake-skewers,” said Adragash. “If necessary, if needed, then they will be put upon them. If not, then both stakes and chattel will further serve the lord-master howsoever we wish-desires.”

Momentarily satisfied that at last the order had been delivered and apparently accepted, Gradger looked over at the iron-railed pen. He was confused. It would be sufficient to hold meat animals like swine and goats, but surely, if they tried, the manthings could climb over? Then he noticed two of the overseers’ servants close the cage, and inside, a manthing lying prone, and he understood immediately what happened to those foolish enough to attempt to climb the iron railings - one sharp thrust of a halberd and the attempted escape would be ended.

(https://i.imgur.com/PIJDO4Y.jpg)

Suddenly he noticed that most of the living chattel-slaves were looking not at the freshly fashioned corpse, but at him and Adragash.

“They stare and glare,” he said. “Those there and there, they are looking at us. They have defiance-rebellion left in them, yes, yes?”

Adragash grinned. “They do. Yet, Gradger friend, this is not so bad. What strength of will they harbour-possess reveals a strength left also in their bodies. That will be necessary-needed to cut, carry and carve well.”

Gradger was not convinced. One of the females had fixed her gaze upon him, and despite her lack of fangs and the absence of red in her eyes, he could clearly see her hate-anger. “If they have such resistance-rebellion left in them, then they will surely not make their own skewer stakes.”

(https://i.imgur.com/b0Txgbo.jpg)

“No, they will not. But when they are told to make stakes for a palisade meant to skewer-spit the enemy’s horses, and that if their work-labour is done fast-quick they will be allowed to eat, then they will have motive to work as well as the required strength.”

In that moment, despite his dislike of the overseer, Gadger understood why Adragash had been given command of the chattel-slaves. 
 
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on December 06, 2020, 07:45:16 PM
Excellent addition!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on December 06, 2020, 10:06:40 PM
Catch up time 😺
Just read the last 3 instalments. Most excellent. The undead have been beheaded. Except for one who is rapidly adjusting to his new freedom. BTW, it didn’t escape my notice of your avatar bearing a close resemblance to the last antogonist 😺
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 06, 2020, 10:13:44 PM
... The undead have been beheaded. Except for one who is rapidly adjusting to his new freedom. ...

I know. Biagino must be giddy with the sudden release of escaping from the dark-magic, glamour-like affection he had for the duchess. He was enspelled, overlooked, forspoken (to use some old English words)! He's my favourite campaign character, although I love Perette and Glammerscale too. And Duke Guidobaldo, but he's a player and that would be weird!  :icon_redface:

At last, Biagino is his own vampire. I bet he dies in the next battle. This campaign, I tell you ... just letting what happens happen ... It's crazy! I thought Maria would last at least a little longer! And whole story lines I imagined would surely happen have suddenly ended, although it seems better ones then happen instead!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 11, 2020, 03:40:47 AM
Perhaps Gradger has an up and coming ambition to be a Vaderly skaven with his mask and associated heavy breathing.  Although Adragash seems a bit smarter, and more capable.  Nicely done.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on December 11, 2020, 03:49:16 AM
Perhaps Gradger has an up and coming ambition to be a Vaderly skaven with his mask and associated heavy breathing.  Although Adragash seems a bit smarter, and more capable.  Nicely done.

Long live the rat infested rats!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 15, 2020, 09:08:52 PM
Some Too Late and One Too Early
Northern Tilea, Spring 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/uR30Sew.jpg)

They made their way along the lesser-known paths in the woods, some of which were so well hidden that they had to push their way through the undergrowth to access them. Their new friends asked them not to cut the branches as they did so. Once they were on the secret sylvan byways, however, they were able to ride at a pace. Captain Gesualdi had informed Perrette that some of the paths, the wider and more level ones, were the remains of ancient roads from the time when Remas ruled the entire peninsula and many lands beyond. The stonework had long since sunk beneath the ground, but for considerable stretches there was a surprising lack of trees, even saplings, to hinder them. She began to suspect this was not by chance, and that their new companions had a hand in ensuring these passageways remained relatively clear, all the better to enable speedy, secretive forays.

(https://i.imgur.com/G7UsS3l.jpg)

Having met their new friends a week ago, Perette and the last of her Brabanzon had spent most of the intervening time searching for any other comrades who had escaped the assault on Ravola, with some success. She now had with her most of the company’s riders, a small band of archers and a handful of the camp followers. She was afraid that no-one else had escaped. They had failed to find even one of the young baron’s retinue of knights. It pained her to think of the poor souls she and the baron had led to the city, and all the others who came there when told it was safe to return now that the ogres were gone. A surprising number had come out of hiding, bedraggled and thin, like wilderness hermits on the edge of starvation. All these were now most likely suffering cruelties at the ratmen’s clawed hands. Horrifying as the thought was, it occurred to her that perhaps the best they could hope for was a quick death, being butchered for their flesh. During the fight she had seen several monstrous creatures amongst the enemy’s number that bore horrible scars and blemishes, with patches of iron somehow riveted onto their very skin, even piercings to allow intestine-like tubes to penetrate their bodies! If they could do that to their own kind, what might they do to prisoners? Better death than such mutilation.

Every night since the flight she had slept badly, even when her new friends had offered her relative safety. She would toss and turn for two hours or so as her mind raced, considering what she could and should have done different, and when she finally slipped into brief, fretful sleep she dreamt only of the battle. She had come to Tilea expecting to face ogres, ostensibly to assist in the reclamation of a realm for a less cruel master and to save what poor souls had been enslaved by the brutes. When that work had been done, however, she had first learned that vampires were also ravaging great swathes of Tilea, and had then, only weeks after ridding Ravola of ogres, been driven from the city by an army of ratmen. This land had been cursed thrice over!

Although it was less than a year ago, it felt like a decade since Perrette had departed Bretonnia. When she set off to cross the high pass into Tilea, she merely wanted to escape Bretonnia, to put her old life behind her and find a new, hopefully better one. Joyously carousing with the Brabanzon one raucous night she found them to be better company than either peasants or noblemen, and not at all as uncouth and callous as one might expect of such a mercenary band. Indeed, she had discovered that the Brabanzon, at least those there that night, possessed an unexpected yet welcome decency, however deeply concealed beneath their swaggering bravado, cruel jests and coarse language. When they told her they were employed to travel to Tilea she had not hesitated in choosing to go with them, despite having no contract herself. Leaving Bretonnia as little better than a camp follower, since the second assault on Campogrotta (and by the Brabanzon’s own choosing) she had come to command the whole company. At least, what was left of it now.

The Brabanzon’s new allies were a mysterious bunch, whose number she had yet to estimate, nor had she ascertained who truly commanded them. The particular band they travelled with had a leader, being the burly Captain Valfrido Gesualdi, but although he had said nothing concerning the matter, something told her that he served another. The name they called themselves – the Arrabbiati, or ‘Angry Ones’ – she had heard during her brief time in Campogrotta when one of the city’s inhabitants had asked her if the reason the Arrabbiati were not amongst the army was because the dwarfs refused to accept their help. During the short conversation that followed she had learned that during the Campogrottans’ time as slaves of Boulderguts’ ogres there had been several incidents of sabotage and assassination against the brutes and it had been generally believed that the Arrabbiati had been behind the deeds. For more than a decade, the brigand band had earned a reputation amongst the common, labouring folk for robbing the most arrogant and tyrannical of the nobility and the greediest of the merchant families – leaving nothing behind but bodies and whichever of their red-fletched arrows had snapped. What with Boulderguts being the very worst of tyrants, his man-eating brutes the most merciless of oppressors, then surely, said her informant, the Arrabbiati would target them? Although at the time she thought it sounded like wishful thinking, it seemed likely that for want of anyone else to rob a band of outlaws might be forced to rob instead from the ogres. Later she learned that they might indeed possess some truly noble motivations, for it was said they been decimated when they had ridden out of nothing but love for the Duchess Maria (regarded as an enlightened and fair ruler, before she became a vampire) to assist in the fight against the vampire Duke Alessandro’s army.

A broad-shouldered man, with a chin as wide as his cheeks, Captain Gesualdi was armed with a bow like the rest of his men but had a scarf about his head instead of a helmet. Like his entire company, he wore dark clothes - his tunic being a dull shade of purple, his scarf burgundy.

(https://i.imgur.com/bwgq3G9.jpg)

Back in Campogrotta Perrette heard one inhabitant refer to the Arrabiatti as the Brotherhood of the Shadows, and it seemed they were indeed suitably dressed to lurk unseen during their nocturnal and crepuscular activities. Some of their horses, however, were white, so either they only hid in shadows when creeping about on foot, or the habit was an affectation to suit their reputation, or, and this surely was most likely, they were loath to waste good horses when they got them.

Their standard was that of a wolfshead, argent upon a sanguine field.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZqUXk8n.jpg)

Their modus operandi indicated that this was not a wolf like the white one of Middenland – the forever brawling, bloody, winter wolf of Ulric. Instead, this was a hungry wolf, carefully choosing which prey to stalk and howling at the moon when there were none for miles to hear. The Arrabiatti disparagingly called it the mutt. When the mutt was mounted, they all had to make ready to move. Twice now she had heard them say, ‘Meet at the mutt’, an action made all the easier by the fact that the company’s horn blower always travelled with their standard bearer. Of course, the horn had a sound like a wolf howling.

Now Perette had met them, they seemed so far to warrant their heroic reputation. ‘Goodfellows all,’ they had called themselves at their first encounter, and they did not hesitate to help her and the fleeing Brabanzon. They had offered victuals and shelter, then assisted in the finding of the other Brabanzon survivors. Now they were guiding them by way of these obscure paths away from the city to put them safely on the road back to Campogrotta. In return, they had asked for nothing - at least, not yet. Her own Brabanzon would also have found it in them to help strangers in need, but the matter of remuneration would definitely have been broached long before now! Captain Gesualdi had even gifted her a coat of scale armour which he said would not interfere with her magics for it had once been the property of a wizard. When she asked how it had come into his possession, he answered with a grin that she should not look a gift horse in the mouth.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZLaRNDA.jpg)

Three days before, with surely little prospect of profit from a city that had nothing of value left in it when they arrived, and with even less now that the ratmen had infested and consumed it, the captain had dispatched several of his men to scout much closer to the city, out of concern that the ratmen might be preparing to march from the city. She offered some of her own soldiers to accompany the Arrabbiati scouts, for they had recent knowledge of the lay of the land, but Gesualdi had insisted that his men knew the area like the ‘back of their hands’ and that the Brabanzon would do better to scout ahead as they made their way south, searching for any last remaining escapees wandering the wilds.

Perette’s second in command, Osmont, rode much of the way beside her. The riders had previously been commanded by a Sergeant Huget, but he was missing in action, believed to have been shot from his horse by one of the enemy’s long-barrelled muskets before getting out of sight of Ravola’s walls. The man who reported this had died of his wounds only minutes after imparting the news, and so none could now ask him if he was certain! Even if Huget turned up, however, Perrette would keep Osmont as her second, which would put him in command of the riders.

(https://i.imgur.com/z9Gv4h3.jpg)

Osmont had an easy relationship with her, often joking - doing so whenever he thought she needed such to lift her spirits but falling quiet when she had a need for sombre contemplation. He had been there in the typpling room of the inn when she first met the company and from the start he seemed to see something in her that she herself had not really been aware of. He was also quite protective. On two occasions, including that first night, he had, with the slightest shake of his head, subtly signalled that the man she was getting close to was not someone she should favour! A veteran of many a war, or at least, many a bloody squabble between this baron and that marquis, he had a calm confidence about him, and a watchfulness. During the fall of Ravola it was he who had understood it was time to leave – not in the sense of being panicked into fleeing, but rather in assessing the situation and recognising that they were beaten.



Early in the afternoon a cry was heard from the column of riders behind.

“Ho! Riders! To the left.”

At first, Perrette could see nothing but trees, but then she caught a flashing glimpse of something in motion through the foliage.

(https://i.imgur.com/IJa9Rn7.jpg)

“It’s Iginio!” came the same voice again.

“That it is!” came an answering cry. A few moments later the three Arrabiatti scouts emerged from a smaller path which joined the main group’s own route like a tributary stream might merge with a river.

The chief scout, Iginio, wore a dark cloak like many of his comrades and rode a chestnut mount. He came right up to the front of the column to ride beside Perrette and Captain Gesualdi.

(https://i.imgur.com/DL6BS4h.jpg)

Continued ...

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 15, 2020, 09:09:17 PM
“Good captain, my lady, well met!” he said by way of greeting.

“Glad to see you back, Iginio,” said the captain. “Did you get close to the city? The enemy?”

“And the people? What about them?” added Perrette.

“We got close, captain,” said the scout. “Close enough for some of the ratmen to espy us, which is when we left. Apart from a few poor wretches, no more than a dozen, shifting stones under guard where a tower has collapsed, we saw no other people, my lady. There was acrid smoke coming from within, the stink of burning hair and flesh. They must have been burning either beasts or people.”

“Is their entire force still present?” asked the captain.

“Aye, I reckon it is,” said Iginio. Then he addressed Perrette directly. “My lady, you told us they had no war machines?”

“None,” said Perrette. “They took the walls by weight of numbers and had just enough to do so. We battered them badly, killing so many, yet still they came. I pray to all the gods it was their fur you smelled burning.”

“I wish I could affirm that. What I can report is that they do have machines now.”

“They must have lagged behind on their march,” suggested the captain. “Which means they attacked before their full force was mustered, before they had that which could shoot upon the walls.”

“Perhaps arrogance convinced them they would win?” said Perrette. “And that we would not prove a troublesome foe.”

“If so, they learned their lesson, my lady,” said the captain. “From all accounts you put them to far more trouble than an equal number of any other soldiers could have done. The ratmen are bullies, cruel and cunning. They do possess a species of arrogance, for they think they are the only creatures worthy of living in the world. But they are not brave. They rely on strength of numbers in battle, and on terrible machines that can conjure lightning itself. They first bombard their foes, then quickly swarm to overwhelm them before they can recover. There must have been a pressing reason for their haste. It’s likely they were worried you were soon to be reinforced.”

“We did send for help, from Campogrotta. But they attacked long before our messengers could possibly have arrived.”

“My lady, help was sent,” said the scout. “We met with a force from Campogrotta, both heavy and light horsemen, and even some dwarfs following them, catching up every night to sleep for half the time the men did.”

“Compagnia del Sole soldiers?” asked Perrette.

“Aye, my lady, they were. Dispatched from Campogrotta to relieve Ravola but arriving four days too late. They’d scouted the enemy too and were about to return.”

This made little sense to Perrette. Neither the messengers she sent to Campogrotta nor any force of mounted men at arms and dwarfs could possibly have travelled fast enough. The distance was too great. She knew because she had made the journey herself. Even on secret paths such as these for part of the way, it could not be done. Which meant the Compagnia soldiers must have set off long before her messengers arrived. Then it occurred to her – perhaps the soldiers were already on their way for some other reason, and they met her messengers part way?

“Master scout,” she asked. “When you spoke to them, did they say they were ordered from Campogrotta to ride to Ravola’s relief?”

“Yes, my lady. Someone from Ravola came to them and begged that the whole Compagnia go north to your aid. Their captain general sent the riders and dwarfs ahead to learn what they could. They claimed not to know if the commander was following with the rest of the army.”

Perrette held her tongue, but what the man was saying was impossible. Apparently Osmont had not considered the mathematics of the claim, for he asked,

“Master scout, the dwarfs – did you meet with them?”

“Not to speak to. Their commander, I think, was named Greyfury.”

Osmont laughed which made the others look. “He could not bear to be parted from his true love,” he said.

While the others wondered what he could mean, Perette just rolled her eyes and gave Osmont a look meant to silence him. She did not think these men were currently in the mood to entertain private jests. Almost as if she were precognitive, the scout Iginio’s tone changed.

“There was something else we saw. Strange indeed, if truth be told. When we drew close to the city we passed over a long patch of poisoned ground, where all the plants had withered as if baked by a hot sun for many days.”

(https://i.imgur.com/8GE0Jog.jpg)

“We could plainly see no animals had trespassed upon it. There were tracks passing along it, as if left by three large wagons. They had crushed some small trees while brushing past others, so that their blackened remnants still remained erect but sagging. Our mounts became fearful, acting most contrary and we ourselves felt a sudden imbalance in our humours …”

(https://i.imgur.com/L0Vt1LD.jpg)

“We did not linger. I don’t think we could have done if we tried. Saladino’s stomach ain’t been right since. We went over it and on, thinking that some poisonous ratman taint must have been released there, a magical curse cast by something on the wagon or some spillage of aqua fortis or the like. Perhaps the ratmen spread corruption from the wagons, as if scattering the very opposite of seeds - sowing death instead of new life? After spying upon the city walls, we chose a different path back, all the better to learn as much as we could of the enemy’s disposition, but mostly to avoid the tainted ground. Yet we again encountered an exactly similar strip of corruption! Loathe to cross it, men and mounts alike, we thought to skirt around it this time. But there was no going around, for the poisoned land proved to be like unto a path, which stretched all the way at least to the first place we had crossed.”

Iginio fell momentarily silent, while the others just waited to hear what else he said.

“I cannot say for certain, but the dead path looked to follow a curved course around the city. We were unable to discover if this was true, for to linger so close to the enemy would surely have meant we were attacked, and to travel any length of time even just beside the corruption may have meant we became too ill to return. But, before we crossed back over, I reckon we got the measure of it. I’d lay all the gold I have that it goes around the entire city.”

“Some sort of magical barrier, perhaps, meant to prevent approach?” suggested Perrette.

“I think not, my lady, for we crossed it twice, there and back again, howsoever loath we were to do so the second time. I doubt anyone could travel along the length of it for more than an hour, yet crossing it takes only a few moments and so is bearable.”

Perrette now noticed the darkness around Iginio’s eyes. She saw too that his horse was sweating noticeably more than her own or the captain’s mount.

(https://i.imgur.com/2bYu3GH.jpg)

“You were exceeding brave to do so,” she said. “And all that you learned of the ratmen, the poor inhabitants and the poisoned band could prove vital to our plans.”

“Iginio,” asked the captain, “how long did you linger in that poisoned place?”

“When we first crossed, just enough time to dismount and look closely at the ground, to notice that the wagons that passed seemed to have differently sized wheels, and some very large, and that they apparently not hauled by draught animals, but of course we could have worked that out without noticing the lack of prints. When we crossed back, we wasted not a moment’s time in getting to the other side.”

“I don’t think it likely they were wagons, but rather some sort of war engines,” said Osmont. “Probably came up with the others you did see. Perhaps they were like giant censers, emitting a cloud of noxious, noisome vapour, which they intend to push at the enemy in battle? As to why they travelled round the city, I know not. Seems a great waste of effort to me just to kill a few trees and weeds.”

“We shall have to take a look at whatever made the dead path,” mused the Arrabiatti captain. “Perhaps then we will learn its true nature and purpose? In the meantime, if your friends the Compagnia soldiers are making their way back to Campogrotta, then we should take you to them.”

(https://i.imgur.com/pmmvRBR.jpg)

“They are not far away, captain,” said the chief scout. “Only two hour’s ride, I reckon.”

“But don’t they have a head start on us?” said Perrette.

“They do, my lady,” agreed the scout. “But they do not know the paths as well as us, and they travel with a long journey in mind, at a pace they can maintain, while we can make a dash to catch up with them.”



(https://i.imgur.com/VvUIThP.jpg)



Two hour’s later the riders descended from a high path and rode out towards the even higher hills between them and Campogrotta. Ahead of them, where their present path met with another, they could see a company of horsemen.

(https://i.imgur.com/uEqUYTr.jpg)

Their banner bore the white baton and half-sun emblem of the Compagnia del Sole. They looked surprised at first …

(https://i.imgur.com/kY6d3xV.jpg)

… but Perrette urged her horse out beyond the body, knowing that the soldiers would recall her from Campogrotta. Indeed, the fellow at their fore had drunkenly tried to woo her the night before she left for Ravola!

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on December 18, 2020, 02:26:53 AM
Nice set up!!

Quote Padre:  Some of their horses, however, were white, so either they only hid in shadows when creeping about on foot, or the habit was an affectation to suit their reputation, or, and this surely was most likely, they were loath to waste good horses when they got them.

There’s that sense of humour 😺
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on January 10, 2021, 08:52:00 PM
The next part of the story is ready, and the honour falls to me - one of the players - to share it on behalf of Padre.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Von Zorn on January 10, 2021, 08:52:39 PM
Hoist!

Prequel to the Assault on Ebino, IC2404

Guccio had been pondering the audacity of his recent behaviour, and whether the consequences of his boldness might prove the ruin of his career prospects in Lord Alessio Falconi’s army, or indeed any army. Faced with the prospect of attacking the strongly walled and deeply moated city of Ebino, defended by an enemy that not only never slept but who had likely forgotten what sleep was, the general had turned to him, as siege master, for advice. He had immediately offered two solutions, both of which now laced his every waking moment with fearful doubt, somehow even surpassing the fear engendered by the prospect of once again facing the undead in battle.

The moat, he had said to Lord Alessio, required bridging, therefore they should fashion carriages to carry suitably long platforms up to the moat’s edge, there to drop into place. Once made busy by the necessarily hasty construction, he had become so caught up in the practicalities of wheels and axles sufficient at least to travel one, relatively short journey, as well as how to counterweight the carriage so that the large platform hanging at the fore would not cause it to topple over, that he had pushed all other concerns from his mind.

Now, however, that the former difficulties had been overcome, howsoever ingeniously, he had to face up to the several many other considerations. Would the sheer weight of both the primary load and necessary counterweight upon such a hastily built carriage simply cause it to shake itself apart as it negotiated the rough ground it would have to pass before reaching the moat? Could any number of men successfully push the thing that far, now that large boulders had been strapped to the rear to compensate for the force of the large, leaning bridge platform hanging precariously from the front? And when the timber platform was allowed to fall, would it stay in one piece as it crashed into the ground, as well as sufficiently strong to bear the weight of the many armoured men (carrying long ladders) who would then pour over the top of it in order to reach the foot of the wall?

While these were just some of his worries concerning the bridges, all paled into insignificance when compared to his worries regarding the petard.

The scouts had reported that the city’s southern gate had a stone bridge leading to it, which obviously could not be drawn up – a rather unexpected opportunity for access given the fact that the city’s builders had gone to the trouble of digging a moat. Knowing therefore that the gate could be reached relatively easily, Guccio immediately wondered how the gate itself might be broken through. Of course, there were artillery pieces that could do the job, and master gunners to tend them, but only two, and not the half a dozen they had fielded in the Valley of Death. If one or even both should shiver as had the mortar at Pontremola, then the gate might not be beaten. Furthermore, the scouts had reported that it was made of iron-bound oak, ancient and hard, reinforced by a huge iron portcullis, which of course made sense considering the lack of a drawbridge. It was clear that the army needed another string to its bow when it came to the gate. To Guccio’s mind there was no choice - breaking gate had to be attempted, if simply as an alternative mode of access should his doubts concerning his bridges prove warranted.

Thus it was, as if he were a boulder rolling downhill, entirely unable to stop, he found himself making a second proposal to the general, immediately following his first: they would need a petard, one of substantial size and great potency, and he knew where to obtain just such a thing. The mortar that had shivered at Pontremola had not blown itself entirely apart, but rather had merely cracked, rendering itself entirely unsafe for the purpose it was made to perform. Guccio said that if it were loaded with grenade and triple the weight of powder and mounted upon a carriage, then it could be rolled right up to the gate, placed against it, and exploded. It would surely blow itself apart, considering its visibly fractured state, but in so doing most likely tear the gate to pieces, dislodge the portcullis and provide a breach through which the army could pour.

That moment, as all those gathered in the army council nodded appreciatively, including the general himself, should have been a moment of great satisfaction – if he had not immediately realised how little certainty he had that any of what he had claimed was even vaguely likely to succeed.

Thus the knot in his stomach ever since!



Its carriage completed - utilising the wheels of one of the army’s better baggage wagons, much to the disgust of the proud carter who had coaxed the carriage all the way from Portomaggiore - the petard was now being rolled out of the camp, just as the rest of the army was readying itself for the challenge ahead.

(https://i.imgur.com/LdpyI3F.jpg)

Guccio watched, standing beside the sergeant of the handgunners who had been volunteered as petardiers, a fellow named Vasari. Until now the sergeant had said very little, although from his gruff attitude it was clear he was not thrilled at what he and his men had been ordered to do. A bearded veteran of several wars, which included serving with Lord Alessio in the northern Old World, he was tall and every bit the image of a soldier, albeit one dressed (as so many in the Portomaggioran marching army) in Empire style clothes.

“I was told it would be a simple task,” the sergeant suddenly declared. “Yet here we see how hard it is even just to move it. Tell me, siege master, why don’t we haul it with draft animals like the bridges?”

(https://i.imgur.com/vUELIXh.jpg)

“We could, I suppose, at least until we drew close to the walls,” said Guccio. “If we were not using nearly every horse to haul the bridges instead. Besides, your men will learn how to push it along the way.”

“Ah, the fine and noble art of pushing,” said the sergeant, rolling his eyes.

This made Guccio smile. “Aye, well, not noble, but your men must familiarise themselves with the work, all the better to move speedily and without hindrance when they draw near.”

“Yet such an enemy will not shoot at us. Not once have I seen them so much as lob a stone, never mind span and shoot a crossbow nor load and fire a piece,” said the sergeant. “We could haul it up all leisurely, take a breather now and then, have a little repast as and when we like, and still it would be delivered.”

“The enemy might not shoot, but who knows what might sally forth from the city if we approach so slowly as to allow them to get the measure of us? Who knows what magical incantations their foul masters might conjure against us? And we needs must time our arrival as best we can with the arrival of the bridges and the ladder assault on the walls, so that the enemy cannot concentrate its strength against us.”

“I doubt the bridges will be moving fast at all”

“That’s as may be,” agreed Guccio. “But if we are to coordinate the arrival perfectly, we must light the fuse as we draw near, after which your men cannot afford to slip or stall, otherwise the fuse will have to be pulled out and replaced and re-lit, allowing the enemy even more time to thwart us.”

“My men,” mused the sergeant. “You mean my men and I.”

Guccio fell silent, for what could he say? Every veteran knew the dangerous reputation of petards.

“When the arch-lector was considering attacking Ebino,” said the sergeant, “they say the maestro Angelo da Leoni built him a huge ramp, hauled by his steam engine, up which the army could stroll right up and over the walls into the city.”

Except the maestro failed, thought Guccio. “Would that we could, sergeant” was what he said. “But we have no such engine.”

The construction of a ramp for Da Leoni’s steam engine had taken so long that the vampire Duchess had sallied forth from the city and defeated the living army in the field. The maestro’s engine, stripped bare of its armaments, had sputtered forwards and ground to a halt when swarmed by ghostly monsters. The thought made Guccio’s stomach knot the more. If a genius like Da Leoni had failed, with his unique marvel of an engine, how could his own ‘grenado in a hand cart’ hope to work? Or his clackety timber bridges?

(https://i.imgur.com/pZADXoI.jpg)

Just now four men were pushing the petard, as indeed his design intended. But when it approached the city, Sergeant Vasari’s whole company would accompany it, to guard it should that prove necessary, and more importantly to assist if it were to get stuck, or one or more of the pushers should fall from whatever harm the enemy inflicted.

(https://i.imgur.com/XVgHp17.jpg)

“You’ve tested the fuse, I take it?” asked Sergeant Vasari.

The fuse hung from the touchhole at the rear, a particularly potent, hempen matchcord boiled in a concentrated saltpetre solution, that would spit spluttering sparks when lit, the flame burning up at a speed much faster than that of any handgunner’s ‘slowmatch’.

“That I have. I made four, all exactly the same. Two I tested and timed, the third you see there, the fourth I will have with me should we need to replace that one.”

“You will be with us?” said the sergeant, with evident surprise.

It had not occurred to Guccio that the sergeant did not know he was to stay with the petard. “I will, although I might be of little use should it come to fighting, for my skills with a blade are somewhat rusty.”

“Well, siege-master,” said the sergeant, his tone lightening. “We’ll do any fighting that’s needed, you just make sure that thing goes off when it is supposed to go off, and not a moment before.”

(https://i.imgur.com/frnTYMp.jpg)

That’s the trick, thought Guccio. And that is what every soldier in Vasari’s company had on his mind. Now that the sergeant knew the petard’s maker was to be with them, he seemed less anxious. Knowing the man responsible for building it was to risk his own life also had to make anyone feel a bit better about the prospect of success, for why would a man make a petard with which to hoist his very own self?

Except Guccio was the maker and knew full well what a man might do when he allows ambition and pride to take the reins of his own voice. It was a good thing that the sergeant could not feel how dry Guccio’s throat was or sense the ever-present knot inside his belly.

Behind them several companies of soldiers had already mustered and begun their march. An Estalian mercenary commanded one band of handgunners …

(https://i.imgur.com/VIr0Pkd.jpg)

… while a swaggering youth with an oversized panache strode with bared blade ahead of another company.

(https://i.imgur.com/tswCGqc.jpg)

Elsewhere in this part of the camp, soldiers rushed to arm themselves and collect whatever they might need for the short march and the battle ahead. A number were drawing fortified wine from a cart, for it was the custom for every soldier to drink a deep draft before an assault, not just to calm their nerves but to embolden them. It was a practice made all the more appropriate when the enemy consisted of those who had already died!

(https://i.imgur.com/TfycZOx.jpg)

Behind the petard trundled Guccio’s three large bridges, made slow by the huge, counterweight rocks he had ordered lashed to the platforms.

(https://i.imgur.com/CN9GkSc.jpg)

These were to be pulled by beasts to within sight of the walls, and then distributed to three of the larger regiments to be pushed the remainder of the way. To ask soldiers to push them was impractical but entirely necessary, for if the draught animals were to be alarmed by the enemy, startled in such a way as to buck or rear, then the bridges could topple before they reached the moat. 

(https://i.imgur.com/EwMRK1k.jpg)

Still, thought Guccio, I will be so busy with the petard I might not even notice such a disaster!

May blessed Myrmidia, he prayed, protect me in the battle to come. And should I die in the blast, then may the goddess take my life as a sacrificial offering in return for breaking the gate, so that my life may not be wasted and that our army, dedicated to her, may gain victory against this the foulest of foes.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on January 10, 2021, 08:57:00 PM
Thank you, excellent as usual. :icon_cool: :eusa_clap:

Suspect Padre's suspension will be relieved at some point, and we look forward to his ongoing and excellent contributions. :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 12, 2021, 07:28:21 PM
Thanks GP. Next installment ...



The Assault on Ebino, Part One: Deployment

Biagino had grown more and more furious on the journey from the defeat at Pontremola to the city of Ebino. When the duchess Maria had died, his mind, twisted with all the proud hatred and dark cruelty of vampirism, had been released from his slavish, besotten enthrallment to her, so that now he was enraged almost to madness by the thought of the glamour she had cast over him. As he passed through the gates, anger had so suffused his being that he cared not a jot for the army that was pursuing him, and instead of fleeing further, as was surely the most sensible course of action considering the recent defeat and the enemy’s obvious strength, he decided he would rule her city, take all that was once hers, as partial recompense for her treatment of him.

He had been a pathetic creature in life, and even in undeath, until Maria’s demise, he had been the same. No more.

Now, however, more than two weeks later, with the enemy soon about to attack the city, and with only his paltry, remnant army to defend it, his fury had abated to be replaced with much more mixed emotions, flavoured throughout with a hearty dose of self-interest. Luckily for her, the witch who Maria had left in charge of the city had not met Biagino immediately upon his arrival, otherwise he would most assuredly have killed her on sight, out of sheer spite. When he finally met her, he had regained sufficient composure to realise he needed to hear her report concerning what forces she commanded within the city, and that he needed whatever help she could give to defend it.

The enemy had been preparing for their assault for days, fashioning up contraptions to allow them entry. He knew very well the strength of their artillery, big and small, having watched the volleys at Norochia tear his massive army to pieces, then witnessed the same yet again at Pontremola. Although the city was circumvallated with strong walls, parapeted throughout, he was unwilling to risk even a fraction of the battering they had delivered previously, not when his own forces were so meagre, and so he commanded that none of his soldiers should mount the walls, but rather slink unseen in the shadows below and await his command before marching up to reveal themselves.

So it was that the Disciplinati di Nagash, commanded by the two remaining thralls of La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti, were now mustered in their full remaining strength in the yard below him, silently waiting for his order to climb the steps.

(https://i.imgur.com/25IZw2H.jpg)

Upon the other side of the city gate the witch’s garrison of skeletons stood similarly …

(https://i.imgur.com/kB38yqF.jpg)

… with a corpse cart close by to augment the magical current feeding their animation.

(https://i.imgur.com/SWpZqsH.jpg)

The witch had conjured a host of restless, accursed spirits from the most haunted corners of the city, and they too awaited command, swirling and swooshing around each other like the fronds of water plants might plait and unwind in the eddies of a stream.

(https://i.imgur.com/hANwa5p.jpg)

The witch herself, an old crone who had mastered only the most basic rudiments of the necromantic art, yet to her credit had still managed over time to raise the force aforementioned, was hiding too. Like Biagino himself, she was tucked away in a corner of the battlements, under the shadow of a nearby tower, from where she could watch over her garrison force but also take an occasional peek at the enemy.

(https://i.imgur.com/WgsCyGc.jpg)

His chess pieces set, Biagino now waited impatiently for the enemy to make the opening move. Upon several recent occasions, one of his thralls had crept out in the darkest hours of the night to spy upon the foe and had reported the mustering of their force and their constructions. He knew they had bridges with which to cross the moat, but only a few. Surely, Biagino mused, there is sufficient strength here to prevent frightened men clambering up ladders at only a few places along the walls? But then, they also had their guns, and their magical colossus; their wizards and priests. At least their mounted men at arms, of which he had spied a good number at Pontremola, would be forced to wade through mud on foot, unable to bring their lances to bear. They would be little better than militia, if somewhat better armoured. With the walls of Ebino in his favour, he rated his chances.

The duchess, he could see now most clearly, had been a vainglorious fool when it came to war. Despite knowing her uncle (and vampiric sire) Duke Alessandro, had perished in battle at the bridge of Pontremola, she had forsaken the stone walls of the city which would hinder the foe tremendously, and had charged out to attack the enemy, entrenched at the very same place, there to die. He was glad of her folly, for her death had freed his mind. Now all he had to do was survive this assault and he would have time to enjoy his freedom, to revel in the power that could now be his.

 (https://i.imgur.com/B2qd7ZO.jpg)



Having glanced over the crenelations several times, Biagino saw that the enemy had indeed left all their horses behind, and that even their wooden constructions were being pushed by men not beasts. They were divided unevenly by the road to the city gate, with two of their bridges upon one side and the third on the other. Along the road itself they were pushing what at first appeared to be an ancient bombard, but which Biagino’s wickedly nimble eyes made out to be a huge petard, so heavy it had to be mounted on a carriage.

(https://i.imgur.com/lSFkYjp.jpg)

The largest enemy regiment, consisting of spearmen, obliquely flanked the petard, and if he were to guess, he would have said the enemy general intended them to storm the gate once (if) it was blown. The rest of the soldiers on that flank were heavily armoured, and in smaller companies. Biagino knew they must be the nobility, denuded of their steeds by the necessities of an assault. He could not help but smile as he imagined their steel-carapaced bodies sinking deep in the moat or plummeting from a ladder to crash hard into the rock footings. Also on that flank were two cannons, which perhaps explained why the soldiers on that side had only one bridge. They must have been expecting the artillery to breach one spot, while they then poured across the moat to access the gap thus made.

(https://i.imgur.com/RY5vY5q.jpg)

Upon the other side of the road were the Reman contingent as well as more Portomaggiorans. Biagino had seen, when his eyes were alive rather than just not dead, several of the regiments before, including the mercenary regiments of dwarves. The colossus drew his gaze first, as it would anyone’s, but there were also two bridges, a large regiment of armoured footsoldiers and three regiments of crossbowmen, one of which was pushing a bridge. And well they might, he thought, for they nothing to shoot at!

(https://i.imgur.com/5HUoAOW.jpg)

The whole army was on the move. Soon they would discover how much more difficult the fight against him would prove compared to the Duchess!

---------------------

Game Notes

This was our third play-by-email battle. We are getting quite good at it!

The Tabletop
(https://i.imgur.com/l761cs0.jpg)

The Living Army Deployment, with labels
(https://i.imgur.com/R7AqBoC.jpg)

The Reman Brigade
(https://i.imgur.com/7uxzFUO.jpg)
This pic was sent, along with the army list, to the living army player, Damo (aka Lord Alessio Falconi) as orientation. He did not need a pic of his own forces, as they were his own figures which I had picked up several months ago from his house for the previous play-by-email!

The Undead Forces
(https://i.imgur.com/CRvBDdf.jpg)
This pic was sent, along with the army list, to the Undead army player, Matt, who is actually the villainous Duke Guidobaldo Gondi of Pavona in our campaign, but who had bravely volunteered to command this NPC force in battle.

The City Sections
(https://i.imgur.com/IrnhL07.jpg)

This being a siege game, it would last for 8 turns, and victory was to be decided according to the number of sections held by an unengaged, unfleeing unit by the end of turn 8.

New Rules

PETARD
Movement: With 8 men attending, with 4 of them pushing, it can march move. Once the attendants fall below 2, it cannot march. Once there are no attendants, it loses 1" movement per lost pusher. It must be pushed right up to the gate, then the fuse lit.

(The idea here is that the pushers are the muscle, while the attendants help shift it, direct it, remove obstacles, and add a bit of extra muscle in the moments such is required.)

Explosion: I reckon we should modify the shooting at the gates rules from 6th ed, p.252 -253. Auto hit the gate (for obvious reasons - it will be placed right against it). Roll artillery dice twice for misfire chance (as per the packing an extra charge rule) but the worst misfire result actually counts as a success (except the success also includes potential casualties - D [whatever number of men are present] deaths)! Damage cause = Str 10 + D6 +2. That's a +2 to the standard rules. 15+ breaks the gate, 16 + destroys it utterly (so need a 3+ roll on the D6). If it's a miss a turn type misfire, it can be relit by one of the petardiers for another try!

MOAT BRIDGES
These will start behind the 24" line deployment, with the pushing unit behind. They should therefore be dropped at the start of turn 3, and although technically the carriage has to be pulled aside, I will allow the unit behind to declare a charge over and against the walls (should be a 10" charge). A failed charge means that the rolling aside of the carriage prevented their progress! They can then attempt their charge in turn 4.

Movement: With 15 men pushing, and at least 5 attending, the bridge can march move normally. Once the attendants fall below 5, it can only march move in a straight line, if it turns it is a non-march move. Once it falls below 15 pushers, it cannot march move at all. At only 10 pushers it loses 1" movement, then 2" lost for 7, 3" lost for 4. At 3 or less, it cannot move at all.

‘Other considerations’ (as passed on to the players)  ...

In past battles, including the recent Ravola game, it occurs to me that not all non-missile defenders, were on the walls, thus minimising further the damage from the attacker's missiles. There are no missile troops in the undead army, and so they could perhaps (as Matt and I have already discussed briefly) deploy behind the walls, ready to mount the parapets as the enemy close in?

If the defenders are not on the walls (apart from tower window wizards (perhaps) then the first few turns will be about the cannons' battering and whatever magic is conjured. I can't really discuss anything else here and will shift to individual e-mail threads for that. BUT if there's an issue with any of the above, you can and should say here!

A last consideration ....
Taking a walled and moated city should be hard, although in this case the lack of defender missiles makes it easier, the fact that they are undead might make it much, much harder to take the walls! The Portomaggiorans might finally face a real challenge, after two great, if easy, victories!

This could be a great and hard fought battle, and as such a great 'finale' for Biagino (if it is his finale).

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 13, 2021, 10:37:37 PM
The Assault Begins
Turns 1 – 3

Biagino chanced a better look at the enemy, to ascertain what, if anything, he might have missed before. The wheeled petard was making progress up the road, but at a pace that meant it would be some considerable time before it reached the gate – time he intended to make use of as best he could. His keen eyes could make out that the men pushing it were already tired - even from this distance he could see the throbbing arteries at their throats as their hearts pumped hard and fast to feed their muscles with sanguine sustenance. The thought caused a pang of hunger to suffuse his being – it had been some time since he drank!

(https://i.imgur.com/WmpHE4g.jpg)

Several handgunners escorted the petard and in its rear the large regiment of spearmen had angled their march to bring them onto the road behind. Biagino’s earlier guess was proving more likely to be correct – they obviously intended to swarm the gate once it was broken.

(https://i.imgur.com/wIBLsIN.jpg)

It occurred to him that all the enemy could presently see were stone walls, as if they were attacking an entirely undefended city.

(https://i.imgur.com/mo6YEFW.jpg)

He wondered now whether the sight would encourage or worry them. The living always feared his kind – he remembered feeling that fear himself before receiving the gift of his curse. He laid his hand upon the stone wall, his mighty ally in this fight, and allowed himself a moment to recall his mortal years. What could be learned from his murky memories of that life which might help him here and now? Suddenly, however, his nascent train of thought was lost completely, as pain surged through him, sapping the unholy vigour that sustained his corpse-body in the material world. Clutching tight at the stone to prevent himself falling, he turned to look across the front of the gate at the wall upon the other side.

(https://i.imgur.com/JmpuWbj.jpg)

There was the witch, visibly reeling from a similar shock, and he knew full well what must have happened. Her amateurish bungling of the winds of magic, no doubt intended to supplement the ranks of the osseous warriors below her, had whirled uncontrollably from her grasp and so surged savagely as to sting both her and he!

Hissing in anger, he knew he been weakened by the hurt, before the enemy had so much as fired a shot or loosed a bolt! Why, he asked himself, had he not killed the witch as soon as he found her?
 
Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, he snuck another peek at the enemy. More time had passed than he had thought – his pain had been quite a distraction – and they were considerably closer than the last time he looked. The colossus strode ahead of all the rest, directly towards the moat. This intrigued Biagino, for he had watched the monstrous artefact move on two previous occasions, and knew its gait was stiff if steady, imbued with a sturdy deliberateness. He would be very surprised if it were able to cross the moat, for such a feat would surely require a nimbleness it did not possess?

(https://i.imgur.com/z6KkgnE.jpg)

Beside the colossus were two of the moat bridges. Perhaps the enemy intended their metal giant to step over one of those? This too seemed an unlikely prospect, for its weight would surely splinter the timbers to send its foot into the water and so topple the whole?

(https://i.imgur.com/egqyyWd.jpg)

Lurching to one side, still dizzied by the magical harm, Biagino glanced instead at the enemy’s other flank. There the third bridge had made similar progress, pushed by the dismounted noblemen and flanked by more handgunners.

(https://i.imgur.com/a2mSPXA.jpg)

Just then he felt the enemy’s magic – not any harm from it, but merely its use. The etheric winds flowed through the foe, and he realised the fellow he had spied earlier walking behind the colossus, red robed with a white turban, was their strongest wizard. Perhaps it was that man who gave the colossus its purpose, directing its mindless activities? Again, however, he sensed a burning sourness to the etheric flow, just enough to reveal that the enemy had also suffered harm in their attempts at conjuration. At first, he smiled in satisfaction, but that did not last long, for it now occurred to him that something might be tainting the winds of magic, as if to make them noxious, so that his own attempts to cast magic might prove further detrimental to his health. 

(Game Note: In turn 1 alone, in the Undead magic phase a miscast roll of 9 had wounded both undead magic users, then in the Living magic phase a similar miscast result wounded Hakim the wizard and all three priests!)

Two loud thuds followed the sound of the enemy’s cannon blasts, announcing the first of their artillery shots, likely intended for the gate but hitting the wall it that bore it. Splinters of stone spattered out to splash in the waters of the moat below. They would have to do much better than that, thought Biagino, then turned to look at the courtyard behind him. There his bambinos, commanded by his thralls, stood waiting, satisfactorily unperturbed by the sound of shooting.

(https://i.imgur.com/KBMMJhc.jpg)

Both Biagino and the witch now thought to cure themselves magically of the injuries they had suffered, but Biagino attempt was quelled by the enemy’s countermagic, while the witch simply fumbled the words of her incantation. No matter, he thought, there is plenty of time yet. At least the winds were becoming more favourable, or at the least, less dangerous to the caster.

Outside the enemy pushed onwards. Unknown to Biagino, Lord Alessio himself commanded his regiment of Sea Wolves, armed with great-swords and clad in plate armour, urging them on as they shoved their burden towards the defences.

(https://i.imgur.com/DcAAhpX.jpg)

Again, Biagino sensed the workings of the enemy’s magic, and although not all seemed to be successful, he knew that at least one of their spells had come to fruition. If he had been looking over the parapet just then, he would have seen the dismounted knights momentarily move with unnatural swiftness to push their bridge that bit closer to the moat. He did, however, look just in time to see all three moat bridges come crashing down to span the moat. The first had mercenary crossbowmen pushing it …

(https://i.imgur.com/2TFI0lA.jpg)

… the second was moved by the plate armoured footsoldiers …

(https://i.imgur.com/XGzLoIW.jpg)

… and the third was accompanied by the dismounted nobility of Portomaggiore.

(https://i.imgur.com/hFmZc8l.jpg)

The men at the second, led by their general himself, were champing at the bit to get at the walls, and swiftly pulled aside the bridge’s carriage to allow themselves to begin pouring over it immediately.

(https://i.imgur.com/f3Dh1jI.jpg)

The enemy’s cannons now shifted their aim and lobbed two iron roundshots at the wall to the east of the gate. Once again, the shots buried themselves into the stone, flaring cracks from their points of impact, but the wall stood.

Now, thought Biagino, was the time to mount the walls. His command was unspoken, and indeed little more than a thought, for his bambinos and thralls were like unto marionettes for him to make dance as he pleased. Up went the Disciplinati di Nagash, but not onto the wall targeted by the enemy artillery, which no doubt the enemy intended to breach rather than assault with ladders. There his horde of zombies stayed put, to face whatever attempted to climb through any breach caused. Now the men at the third bridge could see Ebino was not undefended!

(https://i.imgur.com/hp0Tt0j.jpg)

The witch too ordered her city garrison up, so that the enemy commander would be required to do work very hard if he was to take possession of the wall before him.

(https://i.imgur.com/Qsyz5lM.jpg)

Embarrassed by her earlier failure, perhaps, the witch now wound together as many magical eddies as she could muster to cast the Invocation of Nehek, if only to restore herself to full strength, and so be best prepared to face the fight ahead. But the curse Biagino had sensed earlier still lingered, so that she lost her hold again on the slippery swirl of arcane energies and they spun instead into an uncontrollable maelstrom which once again knocked the (foetid) wind out of her. So befuddled was she by what had happened, she failed entirely to notice that this time, just like the last, several skeletons had indeed been raised to join the ranks of the regiment now climbing onto the wall.

Biagino felt the blow too, and as the pain of his fresh injuries fuelled the fury of his anger, he staggered on the battlements, struggling merely to stay on his feet. Somewhere in his mind, little more than a flicker within the whirling rage engulfing the rest, real doubt had crept in. Perhaps, said a whispered voice, today is not your time after all?

(Game Note: Biagino down to one wound. The witch was a more complicated matter – which began a debate concerning the rules. See the note below this post, but if you do, brace yourself for a full and frantic foray deep into the 8th ed WFB rules!)

As both the undead commanders reeled, Lord General Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore led his Sea Wolves in a ladder assault of the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/1n1NVGc.jpg)

Yet this was the only bridge used for an assault. At the first bridge, the crossbowmen lugged the carriage away to allow a company of skirmishing bravi to cross, led by the Reman brigade’s commander Captain Soldatovya, while at the second the dismounted knights simply waited, watching as another roundshot shook the wall to the left of their bridge. Then they shuddered as a second, louder sound rolled over them, after which they turned to see that one of the guns had shivered apart, killing the crew and master gunner serving it.

(Game Note: Each gun had an ‘artillerist’ serving it, being the Tilean list equivalent of an Empire engineer, the second having bought their ‘mercenary skill’ at double the usual cost as per the rules. Both guns could thus re-roll misfires. Apparently, that does not always save a gun. Statistically I supposed it fails to save a gun 1 in 36 times, or fails to save an already misfired gun 1 in 6 times).

On the road the petard was gaining momentum, its pushers thankful that they had a road to traverse and not rough ground.

(https://i.imgur.com/FxasSpD.jpg)

Behind it, the spearmen came on too, with the famous Reman Morrite priest ‘Fighting’ Father Antonello at their head, along with the Portomaggioran nobleman Marcus Portelli.

(https://i.imgur.com/l7xblJF.jpg)

Biagino was vaguely aware of the flow of magic channelled by the enemy, but so dazed was he that he only managed to dispel one of their conjurations, and even then, he knew not what he had prevented. One spell that did get through was a Lore of Light blessing which enlivened the climbing Sea Wolves and perhaps was the reason the fully pate armoured Lord Alessio was the first to top the wall, great hammer in one hand, and commence the first close combat of the assault.

(https://i.imgur.com/lK2LQwa.jpg)

Despite all the advantages gained when defending a wall against ladder climbing attackers (Game Note: And there are a lot!) the attackers, filled with hatred for the foe (being divinely inspired by the presence of the Morrite priest, Father Dado Bendali), enspelled to move with unnatural speed and with their leader armed with an enchanted blade, rained down blow after blow. The fleshless defenders began tumbling from the wall in droves.

(https://i.imgur.com/auIoIjZ.jpg)



Turn 3 Completed. Turns 4-8 to follow!

……………………………………

Appendix to Turns 1 – 3 (for players who like detailed analysis of the rules)

Game Note
The miscasting witch (a level one necromancer) had been on her last wound, but just before I removed the figure as dead, I read the rules. There I was surprised by what I found and did not remove the figure! I began the inevitable debate with the players, which I fully expected as I too had initially believed the witch’s death was surely inevitable, but luckily I had just joined the ‘Eighth Edition For Life’ forum. So, looking for back up from a more knowledgeable and entirely disinterested source, I posted the following in the “Get the Rules Right” section of said forum …

Quote
Here is a ruling I have (as GM) just made in the play-by-email game we are running right now.

A Vampire Count's army level 1 necromancer had only 1 wound left after a previous turn's miscast had caused a S6 hit on him.

The necromancer now irresistibly casts 'Invocation of Nehek'. The Lore attribute 'Curse of Undeath' says that "When a spell from the Lore of the Vampires is successfully cast, the wizard (or another friendly model with 12 inches) instantly recovers a single wound lost earlier in the battle". The WFB core rulebook says (p.33) "A spell cast with irresistible force automatically succeeds..." so it is a 'success'. And (p.34) it says that one should "... first resolve the effects of the spell the wizard was attempting to cast ... [&] The casting player can enjoy the effects of his spell before something ... bad happens to the wizard ..." so the spell's effects are sorted before rolling on the miscast table.

Thus I ruled that in terms of ‘rules as written’ (RAW), exactly in the order stated in the rules, the necromancer casts the spell successfully, instantly recovers her wound (part of the effects of the spell which the rules say she must 'enjoy' first), then when she then rolled 9 on the Miscast table and received another S6 wound, wounding her on a roll of 2, she goes back to 1 wound.

I checked and rechecked, made sure of the actual wording, and this seemed right. The non-vampire player however, disagreed, saying "As it is a lore bonus that happens after the spell" BUT as there is a GM in the game he then graciously wrote "but that is an argument for over a cold beer so happy with [the GM's] view of the rules”.

I was very glad we could carry on. And [was] reminded how having a GM can really help (although we once lost a player from the campaign over his annoyance at army lists, etc)

I had tried to fully research the decision and felt I had gained a level of clarity that meant I didn't even think we should 'roll to decide'. However, I knew that my [own] initial perception before reading all the rules was that he surely must die and so I had dreaded the debate …

Fidelis Von Sigmaringen, self-styled “Attorney-at-RAW”, who has helped me several times on other forums, reassured me by posting the following …

Quote
Your judgment was correct.  As specified in their respective rules, different Lore Attributes take effect at different times. It can be:

- when the spell is being cast by the Wizard (e.g. Wildheart, Kindleflame)
- when the spell has been cast succesfully (e.g. Lifebloom)
- when the spell is being resolved (e.g. Metalshifting, Exorcism, Roiling Skies)
- after the spell has been resolved (e.g. Smoke and Mirrors, Life Leeching).

It can even be later in the same Magic phase, when a spell is being cast by another Wizard. Indeed, it can even be in a later Magic phase (Roiling Skies in the case of Casandora’s Comet per FAQ – an error IMHO).

The relevant rules have already been quoted above:

Vampire AB p.60: "When a spell from the Lore of the Vampires is successfully cast, the Wizard (or another friendly model within 12 ") instantly recovers a single Wound lost earlier in the battle."

BRB p. 34: "When irresistible force occurs, first resolve the effect of the spell that the Wizard was attempting to cast. As the spell has been cast with irresistible force, the casting player can at least enjoy the effect of his spell before something almost indescribably bad happens to the Wizard and everyone nearby. Once the effect of the spell has been resolved, the Wizard now needs to roll 2D6 on the Miscast table to see what happens to him."

As far as I can tell, the BRB does not specifically state that the Lore Attribute as such is a spell effect, but it is indicated in the description of Roiling skies (BRB p. 497): "When a spell from the Lore of Heavens targets an enemy flying unit or a model with the Fly special rule, the target suffers , D6 Strength 4 hits, in addition to any other effects caused by the spell" (Italics mine).

In any case, the Curse of Undeath Lore Attribute takes instantly effect when the spell has been successfully cast, ergo before the spell resolution, ergo before rolling on the miscast table.

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 05, 2021, 04:56:38 PM
The Assault Continues
Turns 4 – 8

Still more angry about his predicament than afraid, Biagino attempted to conjure a curse upon the massive marching body of spearmen closing in on the gate. Distracted by his anger, however, he fumbled the spell and failed to bring the curse to fruition. Aware, however, that his efforts to spin the winds of magic must have been noticed by the enemy’s magic users, he moved along the wall in the hope that their own curses might not find him!

As the fight at the wall continued furiously, with more than half a dozen skeletons falling for every Portomaggioran who perished, the petard and spearmen moved ever closer to the city gate.

(https://i.imgur.com/j89UUor.jpg)

Captain Soldatovya led his bravi over the bridge to begin moving around the city’s corner tower, hoping to find an undefended spot where he might gain entry.

(https://i.imgur.com/uOnc8vT.jpg)

The wizard Hakim once again blessed the Sea Wolves, gifting magically enhanced swiftness to their blades, although the uncontrolled shards of magic released by his unintentionally overpowered spell spun away to visibly sting the colossus. Even Hakim was beginning to wonder if this place was cursed by much more than the presence of the undead.

At the third moat bridge the dismounted knights simply stood their ground, watching as several of the robed zombies on the wall were felled by the handgunners’ bullets. Before the second bridge, however, the fight raged on, and as a consequence of their magical blessing, spurred on by the furious efforts of their commander Lord Alessio, the Sea Wolves hacked and slashed so vigorously at the skeletons that they felled the last foe and took possession of the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/jdq5DvR.jpg)

The living had once again set foot in city of Ebino. Whether they would stay there had yet to be ascertained.

Biagino could see the witch fleeing along the wall into the tower by the gate, which spurred him also to conceal himself, dismounting the wall and entering the courtyard below. As he emerged, he saw the two brutes who had made it back from Pontremola standing patiently behind the gate.

(https://i.imgur.com/uN3zQI5.jpg)

Presuming they survived the petard’s blast, Biagino knew the pair could not hope to prevent the horde of spearmen from accessing the city. Most likely all they could do was cut down a few before they themselves fell - unless, it occurred to him, he himself could bring magical harm on the spearmen and weaken them. He decided he would try his curse again, despite the risks, and so conjured the Curse of Years. Yet again the magical forces broiled so wildly as to be uncontrollable, and once more his body was wracked by the energies he had failed to properly channel, but this time he knew the spell had bitten because his keen ears could hear their dying screams!

(https://i.imgur.com/Ch1eGEY.jpg)

(Game Note: 9 spearmen died, Marcus Portelli was wounded. Biagino’s irresistible miscast wound was compensated, as with the necromancer before, by the Lore Attribute wound gained ‘instantly’ by the successful casting of the spell!)

Before the western wall, Soldatovya and his bravi were suddenly horrified to see a writhing swarm of ghostly beings emerge from the very stones, surging forwards to block their path threateningly.

(https://i.imgur.com/hy3tAx7.jpg)

As they staggered back in surprise, the Sea Wolves above them had already begun pouring down into the courtyard to attack the corpse cart sitting therein. Known for his initiative in battle and a long military career forged by making the right decisions at just the right time, Captain Soldatovya shouted to his men and led them up the ladders (left behind by the Sea Wolves) onto the wall! Considering the alternative, the bravi were only too glad to obey. As they climbed, they glanced behind to see that the mercenary dwarfs were already crossing the first bridge, but not one of them delayed their climb to forewarn their comrades of the threat which lay just around the corner!

As the petard was pushed and placed against the gate, the regiment of spearmen came to a halt. Despite being distracted by his wounds, Portelli knew that to advance any further would leave the petardiers with only two options – to throw themselves into the moat waters or to die when the petard blew. Halting now meant they could run over the bridge to escape.

The wizard Hakim used much of the magical power he could summon to dispel the curse afflicting the spearmen, so that neither he nor the colossus could find sufficient remaining etheric energies to successfully conjure any other spells – although both did try. At the same time, a cannon ball struck the already shaken wall and brought down a fair strength of its crenelated top, but not the wall itself; while the famous captain Lupo ‘the wolf’ Lorenzo shot three blessed bolts from his magical arbalest at the spirits he now spied across the water, visibly diminishing their number.

All this was quickly forgotten a moment later, however, as the flame fizzling along the supposedly 25 second fuse (which the siege-master Guccio had lit exactly 17 seconds earlier) reached the petard’s touchhole to send a massive blast of flames and broiling smoke in all directions, shattering the gate into pieces and tearing off the bottom half of the portcullis.

(https://i.imgur.com/YoZ2ekp.jpg)

Thanks to the noble Portelli, only half of the petardiers perished in the premature explosion, although those who did survive were so distracted, dazed and deafened that they could do little more than collapse to the ground, there to lie for the remainder of the battle. At the moat’s edge, near to the damaged but still (surprisingly) intact bridge, lay Guccio, with one leg torn and bloody, reddening the water. It would be some time before he woke, but he lived.

(Game Note: The petard, which by the rules had to roll two artillery dice, so doubling the chance of misfiring, did misfire, and the subsequent roll was a 1, a ‘catastrophic’ result. This meant it still blew up, causing the full damage that it would have done if it worked properly, but in the process it would also kill D(number of attendants). 5 out of the 10 died.)

In the courtyardi, Alessio and his elite guard dispatched the corpse cart easily, while above them the bravi were torn between watching them and looking behind to watch the dwarfs who had been assailed by the host of spirits. Several dwarfs died, but despite being entirely unable to harm the spirits with their mundane-steel blades, they fought on stubbornly.

(https://i.imgur.com/MNA5Y5E.jpg)

Inside the courtyard the Sea Wolves now divided the better to clear out the city, with half going onto the nearby wall which overlooked the road, and the other half into the tower by the gate. Alessio led the latter company, and it was he who caught a glimpse of the witch fleeing across towards the other side.

(https://i.imgur.com/a1CSbsn.jpg)

(Game Notes: (1) Our siege/assault rules allow the division of large units, 20+ models, into two, in order to occupy and thus hold more ‘sections’) (2) The petard had blown the gate open, but not destroyed the stone wall into which it was set, thus the witch was still able to move across the top.

Meanwhile the bravi scrambled into the corner tower, if only to allow more of their comrades to climb the wall, and outside the Reman crossbowmen were indeed manoeuvring to cross the second bridge and do exactly that – praying that the dwarfs could hold back the ghostly foe. And indeed the dwarfs, despite their utter inability to harm the foe with their weapons, did so, bravely holding their ground against their spirits, a defiance which in itself began to unwind some of the necromantic magic holding them in this world.

The dismounted knights at the far bridge chose the same moment to cross, but not to attempt a ladder assault, but rather to ready themselves for the fall of the wall to their left, so that they could storm it immediately when it did.

(https://i.imgur.com/bT5Gbk3.jpg)

As the smoke at the gate thinned a little, Father Antonello, at the front of the spearmen who marching towards the breach, could just make out the silhouette of the two brutes upon the other side. They had already been wounded by the blast, but both stood ready, for being zombies meant they felt no pain. He used his magical ring to hurl a fireball at them, but to little apparent effect beyond disturbing the smoke!

The cannon, firing again at the wall, had more luck, as this time the wall finally came tumbling down!

(https://i.imgur.com/OASWSvU.jpg)

Several of the Disciplinati di Nagash were crushed by the collapsing masonry, the rest being entirely untroubled by the occurrence, just as they were untroubled by anything at all. Biagino watched the wall’s fall with fascination, his heightened senses magnifying the impressiveness of its collapse, an intricately clattering, part tumble, part slide of a hundred irregularly broken stones swathed in dust and smoke. With little more than a flick of his wrist, he commanded his bambinos in the courtyard to divide, sending half towards the gate while the other half remained to await whatever attempted to clamber over the rubble. His half-hearted attempt to resurrect those crushed by the masonry was to prove a failure.

(https://i.imgur.com/Ck60gmV.jpg)

The petard’s explosion had left the ears of every living soldier near the gate ringing, but not Biagino’s, and he now heard the cacophony of footfalls as spearmen advanced over the bridge. Scowling, he summoned every scrap of the winds of magic he could and once again cursed the spearmen, slaying another ten and again wounding the nobleman Portelli.

As his men pushed by, Portelli let them pass, winded as well as wounded, and would take no more part in the battle. (Game Note: This is my way of interpreting the fact that he was not included in the ten models subsequently selected to assault the gate – using the p.129 ‘Assaulting a Building’ rules. Both the player and the fictional character seemed to know he was too close to death!)

As three more of the dwarfs fell to the deathly chill of the spirits, panic finally got the better of them and they broke and fled away. The spirits, who tarried a while as if to revel in their success, failing to catch them!

(https://i.imgur.com/YYPFkpy.jpg)

The Reman crossbowmen, several of which had already crossed the bridge, now rushed to climb the ladders, spurred on by the sight of the spirits heading their way, while Hakim the wizard stepped back as if to shelter in the shadow of the colossus!

Fighting Father Antonello now led the surviving spearmen, of which there were still many, in a charge through the shattered gate …

(https://i.imgur.com/1h07qIX.jpg)

… and into the brute horrors waiting on the far side of the threshold. Lord Alessio himself had also spied the brutes and, leaving his Sea Wolves to scour the tower for more enemies and to better guard that quarter of the city, he personally charged to join Antonello at the gate. While the priest and spearmen struggled to best the brute they faced, Lord Alessio’s cuts dug deep and he brought down the other with ease. Father Antonello’s blade was somewhat less effective, however, and although the grey cassocked, sandaled holy man fought with rare courage …

(https://i.imgur.com/0eijqvc.jpg)

… the brute finished him easily with a blade longer than the priest was tall. Then, even as the magical forces animating its corpse-body dissipated, the brute stamped down to crush the priest’s head under its foot, before falling itself on top of the priest.

(Game note: I rolled to see whether its stomp attack might be used in this manner, resulting in a kind of ‘overkill’ wound. It was. The Remans, although here commanded by Damian (whose character of Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore) ate NPCs, as are the Undead, so as GM I like to roll on little hastily created tables sometimes just to decide between options! The significance is that Father Antonello, being ‘overkilled’, cannot now roll on the campaign rules recovery chart. He is most definitely and very dead.)/

Captain Hans Wiedmuller, the artillerist tending the last surviving cannon, was able to enchant the iron ammunition using his magical Matrix of Undoing, and so dissipated several more of the spirits with a very well-aimed shot. But the surviving spirits’ attention had been caught by the crossbowmen hurtling past them to rush up the ladders and so they swirled in a graceful arc up and over the wall, chasing Remans before them and right across the courtyard into the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/I96NmAM.jpg)
(Game Note: The crossbowmen declared a flee action.)

Outside the fallen wall the dismounted knights were approaching the breach …

(https://i.imgur.com/660mrZt.jpg)

… but as they drew near the Disciplinati lurched up and onto the rubble. The lesser nobles thus realised that the next while would involve considerably more than struggling over rubble in full plate armour!

(https://i.imgur.com/34HfZEv.jpg)

Biagino had willed the Disciplinati on, but at the same time he ordered the thrall upon the wall commanding the other company to come and join him. It was, he now acknowledged, time to leave. He was not willing to die attempting to hold onto Ebino. He had only really taken the place as a species of vengeance against Maria, but he cared nothing for it, nor had any real desire to stay.

He had hurt the enemy enough, he presumed, to make them think twice about venturing any further north. That was enough. Miragliano lay to the north, a much mightier realm, once ruled by the vampire Duke Alessandro. He would rather take his chances there, to see if he could wrest it from whoever currently ruled – if indeed anyone. And if the enemy chose to follow him, then he would fight again with whatever forces he could raise. Perhaps now that Lord Alessio’s army were further weakened, the next time would be easier, and he could finally, properly defeat them?

So it was that the vampire arch-priest Biagino, with his servant thrall loping behind to keep up, flew through the streets of Ebino and out through a hidden postern, leaving his bambinos to keep the enemy busy a while and so buy him time!

Which that they did.

While Father Bendali, the second Morrite priest with the army, summoned up the courage to attempt a prayer on the host of spirits pursuing the crossbowmen …

(https://i.imgur.com/ecSBKgl.jpg)

… the dismounted knights scrambled up the toppled masonry to become caught up in a frantic tangle of a fight with the frenzied, zombified dedicants of the Disciplinati di Morr, now having become what was once their own enemy!

(https://i.imgur.com/FI3FS0A.jpg)

And as the other company of men at arms struggled up ladders to face as exactly similar foe …

(https://i.imgur.com/ZCGM5ZT.jpg)

… Lord Alessio himself personally led the charge against the third such body of zombies, who defended the tower upon the other side of the shattered gate.

(https://i.imgur.com/iChgVpB.jpg)

The living, armed and armoured well and with much greater fighting prowess than the walking corpses they were fighting, were almost certain to prevail. And so they did. But it took time, which Biagino, exactly as he had intended, used well. By the time they had wrested real control of the city, Biagino was long gone, and entirely out of their reach.

Game Over, end of turn 8.

Thank you, Matt, for running the Undead, and thank you Damian for commanding your army once again in a week long play by e-mail battle. That reminds me, when I am allowed, I must return your army to you!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 05, 2021, 04:57:51 PM
For Love of Hearth and Home
Prequel to the Fight at Sersale

City of Alcente, Spring 2404

Most folk in the city considered Captain Hector Perdigon’s soldiers to be scum, the worst kind of mercenaries. They were presumably unwanted in whichever army they originally served, either because they had refused to obey, or to fight, or had simply run away. Nor had they formed a company of their own, with a condottiere to command them, gaining a renown for their service. Several spoke with a Pavonan accent, presumably having left to seek service that paid, but their accents revealed that they hailed from every corner of the Old World, not just Tilea, and some had accents of a kind entirely unknown to most Tileans. Some came from the darkest corners of the Border Princes, others had fled defeat in some Empire civil war, and a good number were Estalians who had flitted from contract to contract in Tilea. It was said, based on nothing more than rumour, that a good half or more had been exiled from their own lands.

Reluctantly, the citizens could not claim the mercenaries did not know their business, or that they were ill-equipped to go about it effectively. They had been employed by the VMC, whose clerks were experts at getting their money’s worth. Had they been in rags bearing rusty blades, then they would have been bought cheap, with particular economy in mind, but these men were clad in plate armour from head to heel with a healthy vigour about them. The company must surely have paid dearly for them, and to equip them. Nor would they go to the expense of the latter if the mercenaries were not worthy of such expense. This should have given the lie to the common opinion of these men. The VMC’s officers did not throw gold at a bad investment. The truth of their origins was known to the VMC’s clerks and to the men themselves, neither of whom felt any compulsion to explain it.

The citizens consoled themselves by thinking of the alternatives. General Valckenburgh could have left Ogbut and his brutes as a garrison force! Or no force at all. Either way would have been more dangerous for the people of Alcente.

The main army of ‘The VMC in Tilea’ was composed almost entirely of mercenaries, as even those recruited in Marienburg (the trading company’s home) were not pressed to serve a local lord, nor had they volunteered in their city’s militia. They had been hired to serve a mercantile company as part of a joint stock enterprise. They had been purchased, just like the ships and supplies. A good number of the soldiers had been recruited in Tilea, and as such they had every reason to serve willingly in an army fighting first against Lord Khurnag’s Waagh and now the vampires of the north, defending their homelands from such evil foes. Even they had to admit, however, that they were not serving nobles or even Tileans, but businessmen. Indeed, the Tilean lawyers who drew up the contracts under which they would serve had utilised a combination of Condottiere contracts and the bonds signed by caravan and warehouse guards. They might have hearth, home and a noble cause in mind, but they knew merchant adventurers who commanded them only really had profit in mind.

Perdigon’s garrison regiment was not part of the main army, having been raised to bolster the standing militia force of Alcente while General Valckenburgh marched to the far north of the peninsula. So far, Perdigon’s men had done their job well - if simply remaining at full strength and ready while nothing much happened counted for anything. The citizens had learned that as long as they stayed out of their way, the mercenaries kept themselves to themselves. Several inns had become theirs, whether or not they were officially lodged there, and in truth the citizens, even the city’s Tilean militia guard, were glad they were there, considering the proximity of an army of Sartosan pirates ravaging the realm’s smaller settlements to the west.

This morning, however, something had changed. Perdigon’s men were frantically busy preparing to march, while the captain himself was striding through the streets with several of his lads, as if on a mission. People watched from the windows or pressed themselves back in the doorways while he passed, and everyone knew that his activity did not bode well. The city’s bells were quiet, however, which made some think it could not be a real emergency. Captain Perdigon knew the truth, however. The bells were being kept deliberately quiet, to maintain a necessary surprise! The Sartosan pirate army was nearby, and alarm bells might encourage them to hurry!

(https://i.imgur.com/lA9g8fW.jpg)

The captain knew where he was going, and before long he found exactly who he had been looking for - the militia’s watch patrol, with their current commander. A mere handful of crossbowmen and halberdiers doing the rounds as the militia had done for many a year.

“Ho! Sergeant Ivo,” barked the captain. “Gather up your lads, you’re marching out with us at noon.”

(https://i.imgur.com/A9ueuDj.jpg)

“What?” answered the sergeant. “Look you, captain, maybe you’re marching out, but our job is to stay here and defend the city. So we ain’t going anywhere.”

“You’ll be defending the city when you march out. Now, make haste.”

Sergeant Ivo snorted as if he found what Perdigon had said very funny. He looked around at his men, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘Get this fellow’ then fixed his eyes on Perdigon.

“The problem that comes to my mind, captain, is that I can’t see any way in which we can defend the city if we are not in the city to defend it.”

Perdigon narrowed his eyes, which was all the sergeant could see what with the captain’s sallet and bevor covering the rest of his face. “You think that you and your militia can hold these walls against an army?”

“Not if we are not on the walls, no,” said the sergeant, with a mocking lilt.

(https://i.imgur.com/xlwDnHP.jpg)

Perdigon chose to ignore the tone. “You would not last an hour,” he said. “The stone is strong, but with only your petty militia to hold it is no defence, only an inconvenience.”

“Look you,” said the sergeant quickly, and in a more serious manner. “We live here. Our families are here. If we leave then there will be none but boys and old men to guard the walls. We serve the city. That’s what all of us agreed to, and that’s all we agreed to.”

From behind he heard Adelchi shout, “Aye!”

(https://i.imgur.com/37t0y7V.jpg)

The sergeant glanced back at the lad, thankful, and warmed somewhat to his theme. “We’re not soldiers, to be marched off to war. We are citizens in arms, ready and willing to defend our homes. We will obey any order to that end, but we cannot leave the city. We will not leave the city.”

The sergeant glanced back again, but the lad was quiet this time. Perhaps Adelchi did not like the fact he had been the only one to shout before?

“You’ve sworn an oath to defend the city!” said the captain. “And now you must do so by marching out! The Sartosan filth have burned Mintopua and razed Motolla. Now they march on Sersale. If they burn that then your proud city will be surrounded by wasteland on all sides.”

“Ah, but … but our city will stand!” said the sergeant, thinking quick. “And … crops can be resown.”

Someone behind him muttered something about the vines won’t come back in a hurry.

“Think, fool,” said the captain. “The Sartosans will not stop there. You think they’ll complain at how heavy their loot has become and decide enough’s enough? Their greed only grows with the taking, and they know there’s much more to be had from the city itself. And now they think you Alcentians are weak. With good reason! They won’t fear assaulting the walls if they know you all to be cowards.”

“You … you take care what you say, Perdigon,” said the sergeant, his voice strained by equal measure of panic and hurt pride.

A dark cloud drifted over head as hands clutched a little tighter to hilts. The crossbowmen suddenly regretted not having spanned their crossbows.

(https://i.imgur.com/nqAA0ML.jpg)

From behind Adelchi spoke again, and the sergeant wondered if he was the only one present who felt any sort of confidence.

“Maybe it’s you who’s afraid?” declared the youngster. “You’ve been ordered from the city I bet, and you don’t want to go alone.”

“I’m not afraid of Sartosans,” laughed the captain. “I’ve faced far worse than them – enemies that would loose your bowels on sight, boy. The truth is I like drinking wine here in Alcente and sleeping on soft beds. In fact, I’d like to do that some more. If we do not take on the Sartosans right now then all that will be lost. Such a shame.” Then, like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and o’course, your sisters will be raped, your homes burnt, and you will be chained in a galley for the rest o’your days.”

(https://i.imgur.com/kYVs8CO.jpg)

“Well,” said the sergeant, shaking his finger at the captain, “I say if you want to keep what you have, then you should stay and help us hold the walls.” He swung his arm to point toward the nearest city gate. “They outnumber us, yes? Well, see … I say the walls will even the odds. And General Valckenburgh could be back any day – just the sight of his army would send the Sartosans running. If we go out there now, we could end up fighting unnecessary.”

“Dying unnecessary,” someone muttered from behind.

“The general is hundreds of leagues away. Chances are he doesn’t even know what’s happening here. Look, we have orders and you have orders. This is my last offer of advice, and then there’ll be no more talking. The militiamen of Sersale have mustered and called for the city’s help. They intend to make a stand and will die to a man if we do not help them. Now, I don’t care much for them as I don’t know them. But they’re your cousins and countrymen. Do you want them to die?

“No …  but see …” stuttered the sergeant uncertainly.

“And the road wardens are riding in force from Pavezzano, while we have Captain Hidink’s pistoliers here in the city. You think their skills in battle are best put to use on the walls?

“Well, no,” admitted Sergeant Ivo.

“This is your one and only chance to save the city. Do you understand? Wait any longer and that chance is gone. Right now we can muster us, you, the men of Sersale and all the horse left in the realm, and bring all to bear as one. The general isn’t coming in time, and if left to their own devices, the men of Sersale and the road wardens will all die. Altogether though, we can put on a show of force that should make the sea dogs think twice about fighting.”

(https://i.imgur.com/4vKnu9q.jpg)

“Well, when you put it like that … “

(https://i.imgur.com/tqpFVbH.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on February 05, 2021, 06:48:22 PM
For the love of ....oops 😺
Welcome back!!
Now I have a boatload of catching up to do.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 05, 2021, 08:13:47 PM
See Artoban?  Welcome back Padre. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::

And it's not just the painted miniatures, scenery, and stories ... it's also the quality of the photos being taken.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on February 05, 2021, 09:14:20 PM
See Artoban?  Welcome back Padre. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::

And it's not just the painted miniatures, scenery, and stories ... it's also the quality of the photos being taken.

Yes, you did say he returned. That’s part of the foundation repaired. Now that other bloke Midaski. 
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 06, 2021, 01:00:07 PM
I have been re-doing the pictures of the very first story back in 2013 (!!) in preparation for a video narrated version of the story. It is a test to see how it goes. Should be a good way of doing bat reps too.

Originals ...

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast4_zps7afb78ab.jpg)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast2_zpsdb5c1e80.jpg)

(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TileaCampaign/MiraglianoOutcast3b_zpsda644ea9.jpg)

New versions


(https://i.imgur.com/31qycfQ.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/wwoimZS.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on February 06, 2021, 02:01:03 PM
Much nicer, since the Tilean countryside tends not to be carpeted. Also the lighting is vastly improved.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 06, 2021, 02:19:13 PM
Grass has replaced ground! :icon_wink: :icon_mrgreen:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on February 07, 2021, 07:06:57 PM
Beautiful. This is art!  :-)

-Z
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 08, 2021, 07:08:20 PM
I have just uploaded my first video story to my brand new YouTube version of ‘Big Small Worlds’. The story is the first one of the Tilean campaign and so 7 years old, now turned into a video with new pictures. I intend to add the rest of the campaign stories and battle reports in chronological order fairly regularly. It took me a couple of days to learn audio and video editing (the very basics thereof) and hopefully I should now get better and be able to put out the stories without too much fuss. What may slow me a little is wanting to redo the story pics in my more modern style! But that won't be a problem when I eventually get to the better pictures half way through the campaign.

When it comes to the bat reps, with their many pictures, I think this sort of format should work  well, but there are stories such as this to link up the bat reps and allow a much more involving story of Tilea to unfold.

Those of you who are members of certain forums may have seen my first ‘test’ version. This final cut has had a few tweaks. Hopefully, some folk will be interested and might even enjoy this story and the rest as they come. I guess I will find out soon enough!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOj-q60cwFY&t=606s

(https://i.imgur.com/wpWV1W5.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 08, 2021, 07:11:51 PM
I will listen! :icon_cool: :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on February 08, 2021, 11:20:08 PM
Not bad at all. Once you are up 10 or so of the these entries I'll have another Sunday morning hangover playlist to put on as I languish about.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 09, 2021, 12:11:58 AM
Well read. :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 10, 2021, 09:58:29 AM
Thanks!

My second video story is up!

The Greenskin Corsairs’ and  ‘A Weakening of the Faith’.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Da5VyweaCU&t=1201s

I put two parts (2 and 3) together, so it is 25 minutes long. I probably won’t do that often, however – I was testing to see if I could work through a longer one. The battle reports might be longer as they should be easier to do, what with the pictures fixed as they are and so I can’t be tempted into redoing them!

(https://i.imgur.com/bPSkmy1.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Hm4Crrc.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 13, 2021, 09:04:10 PM
The next play by email battle is about to begin. The Sartosans intend to raze yet another Alcentian settlement, the supply centre of Sersale, and the locals have desperately mustered everything they can to attempt to defend it. The battle will take place over the next week.

The field of battle
(https://i.imgur.com/sX2Tyg6.jpg)

The desperate defenders
(https://i.imgur.com/xvFPvZs.jpg)

The Sartosans
(https://i.imgur.com/8dzkbyF.jpg)

And their already loot-heavy baggage train
(https://i.imgur.com/xclemFM.jpg)

A proper report will follow in a week or two.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on February 13, 2021, 10:02:37 PM
Terrain set up looks ace! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 21, 2021, 03:58:45 PM
Thanks GP

Here's the first part of the battle report ...
(2781 pts of Pirates are taking on about 1600 pts of militiamen and mercenaries)


We Know Our Business
The Assault on Sersale, A Battle Report

(https://i.imgur.com/GUvzZvw.jpg)

As the village of Sersale came into view, Admiral Volker could see that this time the Alcentians had chosen to mount a proper defence. There had been squabbles at Mintopua and Mottola, and some of his scallywags had died, but for whatever reason the defenders had not mustered any real strength to oppose them. His captains had become convinced it was because there was no strength to muster, which indeed had been the thinking behind their decision to target this particular realm. Everyone knew the Alcentian marching army, mainly composed the VMC’s foreign mercenaries, had marched to fight the vampires in the north. Even then, they had stopped to argue on the way with the duke of Pavona, so apparently, they were not in a hurry to get to the north.

(https://i.imgur.com/kh0bh36.jpg)

“Maybe,” Captain Van Baas had joked recently, “they ain’t in a hurry to return either?”

Volker had pondered over this a while, to consider what possible reason the VMC might have for delaying their return. In the end, considering the wealth of this realm, all he could come with is that they were too far away to return quickly. But if the company had been prepared to dispatch their army so far, then it was likely it had left something behind to defend its precious new possession, its milch cow. 

Adding weight to his internal argument, here at Sersale there were not just militia men and light horse, but regimented bodies of soldiers, one of which was well armoured. As far as he could ascertain, it still seemed too weak a force to have a hope of thwarting his own army, but there could be some trickery at play, or at least a relief force on its way. Had they decided to defend this place rather than their city walls to buy time? Or were they simply, desperately unwilling to watch any further destruction of their property?

(https://i.imgur.com/xvFPvZs.jpg)

The enemy possessed one piece of ordnance for his three, which meant his own guns would have a little work to do before they could send their shot at the main bodies of soldiers. Two regiments bore Alcente city standards, chequered red and white bands on a field of blue, with black crenelations presumably to represent the city walls. These were probably the city’s drilled militia, endowed with some skill in their halberds and crossbows. A large body of well-armoured soldiers bore the orange and blue colours of the VMC itself, most likely professional mercenary soldiers bought with the ample funds available to such a rich trading company. They could be trouble, as could the pistoliers carrying the same colours.

Then there was a large body of swordsmen, rivalling the men at arms in size, but with no standard. These were possibly the local militia, but that did not mean they could be discounted as a threat. Being so close to the Black Gulf, even the part time soldiers of this region were likely to know their way about a sword. And if this was indeed their home, then what need had they of a standard to inspire them to fight?

The village itself was flanked by a river, crossed by a stout stone bridge. Several large dwellings were surrounded by small, enclosed fields and orchards, making the place fairly defensible, even without any further work.

(https://i.imgur.com/sX2Tyg6.jpg)

No bad thing, then, thought Volker, that this time had brought his entire strength to bear. Previously, at Mottola, he had dispatched Captain Van Baas and his crew to take and raze the village, while he and the rest of his army waited close by to lend support if required, but most importantly to counter-attack any relief force dispatched from the city. This last is exactly what had happened, and several many VMC horsemen had perished in their pathetic and abortive attempt to relieve the village.

(https://i.imgur.com/kZZjrBd.jpg)

He and his three surviving captains had brought their crews. Both his crew and Van Baas’s had been badly mauled in previous fights, so, as he approached the village, he had commanded them to amalgamate into one body, all the better to apply strength of numbers in any fight they took on. Van Baas did not complain, and indeed seemed relieved. Maybe his crew had been grumbling about their losses, becoming a tad mutinous, and this strengthening had reassured them?

(https://i.imgur.com/8dzkbyF.jpg)

Volker’s Sartosan army was heavily reliant on black powder, for as well as the three pieces of ordnance, he had two companies of handgunners, another of blunderbusses and two armed with swivels. The goblin Captain Farq’s lads also favoured powder, being verily festooned with pistols, but unlike the dwarfs (bereft of their captain, Brewaxe, since the battle near Luccini), their pieces were somewhat ill-kept and unreliable. Such was the way of goblins. Volker often wished it was not also the way of several of his own crewmen, but it was not the place of a pirate captain to apply the lash, rather to persuade with promises of wealth gained, and inspire by example. Although keeping their weapons free of rust, well-oiled and ready for battle was stipulated in the seventh clause of his own  ship’s articles, there had been some pettifogging debate of late whether said articles applied on land.

His recently raised, but already reduced in strength, pike regiment was intended to add a better defence against enemy horse soldiers, and his two wizards, Arcabar and Vedus, were there not just to dish out magical harm but to counter whatever spells the enemy could muster. Right now, however, it looked like the only horse the enemy possessed was on the wrong side of the river, and Arcabar had commented that he could not sense the presence of any wizards at all in the village. Still, thought Volker, better to be safe than sorry. More horse could come, and any wizards might be hiding right now, biding their time before they struck.

The defenders had deployed mostly within the confines of the village boundary, except for the pistoliers upon the far side of the river. Volker had sent no-one that way, having failed to find a bridge to cross, but was not concerned, for he reckoned his lads would make short work of them, the river notwithstanding. The young horsemen would surely learn the folly of prancing about within range of his pieces!

(https://i.imgur.com/IKhi7XJ.jpg)

A few archers were lurking among the trees of the stone-walled orchard, like brigands awaiting the passage of prey to rob, while the city-militia crossbows manned a hastily made barricade of ladders and planks between the orchard and the hedged field.

(https://i.imgur.com/e1ldpxk.jpg)

The enemy’s largest regiments waited behind, on the village’s street, obviously hoping to thwart his Sartosans’ advantage in numbers by fighting within a restricted space. What use was an hundred men if only those six at the front could bring their weapons to bear? Volker knew from ship to ship fighting that with such restricted access even ten men could hold back a hundred, if bold (or desperate) enough.

(https://i.imgur.com/IKhi7XJ.jpg)

The enemy’s single gun was out on their far-right flank, concealed behind a hedge, and well sited so that it could aim its muzzle at almost any part of Volker’s army. It was heavier than his own pieces, but this was a fight for field pieces, not great guns, and so he was not too concerned.

(https://i.imgur.com/9j5OO25.jpg)

Volker intended to bring the full strength of his own army to bear and in so doing present such a sight as to strike fear into the outnumbered enemy, which is why he commanded his army array in one long line of battle. Such a deployment would also help his guns big and small to play at the foe unhindered. So it was that he put his ordnance, swivels and handguns, on either flank, while his three largest bodies, being the pike, Farq’s goblins and his and Van Baas’s conjoined crews occupied the centre.

(https://i.imgur.com/jIuC9nj.jpg)

His dwarfs he put out to his left, to ensure that flank – and the baggage - was protected by something that could fight hand to hand, and hard. Out on his right, the river, in full flow due to the season, meant he did not need to worry so much. Only the foolish, or the desperate, would attempt to cross it. And they would fail.

(https://i.imgur.com/jfyf8qY.jpg)

Nevertheless, his right flank would present quite a challenge if the pistoleers thought they could harry his troops from the far side of the river, what with a body of swivel gunners ensconced in the trees and two companies of handgunners flanking them. It would be interesting to see how pistols fared against their larger cousins!

(https://i.imgur.com/5WIZyvz.jpg)

As well as the dwarfs on the left, he had placed two of his artillery pieces and his own blunderbuss-armed crewmen, including Draja the great orc and his mighty firearm ‘Mine’. Volker had seen what Mine could do - it was colourful if not exactly pretty.

(https://i.imgur.com/DEvxgmX.jpg)

Behind them was the baggage, and although the wagons, carts and mules carried much of the loot so far stolen (a considerable fortune) Volker was not too worried about the enemy attempting its capture, for they would surely be far too busy defending what they already had to bother with trying to take more. Still, it comforted him to know that the dwarfs were close by to keep an eye on it.

(https://i.imgur.com/8KO022l.jpg)

He himself personally commanded the joint regiment of his own and van Baas’s mariners. His yellow shirted navigator, Ubaida el-Noor stood to one side of him, and on the other was his standard bearer, carrying his colours of a death’s head above a cutlass.

(https://i.imgur.com/R4RrTAK.jpg)

Next stood Van Baas’ bosun, Moukib Brahimi, then the wizard Adus Arcabar, and on the far-left Van Baas and his own standard bearer.  Crab, the young lad who carried the drum, had been relegated to the second rank for want of space amongst the officers and artists at the fore.  Vedus, the other wizard, was marching with the pikes, whilst Captain Jamaar Garique was commanding his handgunners on the right. Volker was glad that Jamaar was out there to keep an eye on things – the fellow had proved himself competent many times over, a safe pair of hands.

(https://i.imgur.com/jgGFDmz.jpg)

Volker’s booming voice, a startling sound to issue from so slight a man, signalled the advance, and the Sartosans began to close upon the village, keeping in step for now, with the dwarfs, thus maintaining a straight line and ensuring plenty of unobscured targets for the artillery big and small!

(https://i.imgur.com/E66pBci.jpg)

The three central regiments fair bristled with steel, either sword blades, pistol barrels and pike heads, and made a sight to see as they moved as one. Volker was under no illusion and knew full well that Captain Farq’s horde of goblins on his right were pretty much all show and little substance, but to the enemy they would look frightening enough.

(https://i.imgur.com/pb0Fg0f.jpg)

Quieter, so that only the men near him could hear, Volker said, “That’s good lads! Steady and neat. Let’s show ‘em we know our business.”

He wondered what it must be like to be in the village looking out, to see an entire army of renowned robbers closing in, an enemy that had already devoured the western reaches of the realm and was clearly intent on continuing its feast. Would the sight sow fear or resolve?

(https://i.imgur.com/jtZrDD1.jpg)

No matter, he thought. We’ll find out soon enough how they feel about fighting today. 

He could hear Farq’s shrill shouting as he too ordered his mob onwards. The goblin captain had spent the previous night bragging how he and his lads would surely get to grips with the enemy before anyone else, leaving little work for the rest of the army, then trying to convince the other captains to offer him and his lads a reward in advance, which he said was only appropriate as some of his lads would be dead afterwards and so would not enjoy their rightful reward if not given immediately.

(https://i.imgur.com/CLe5ub8.jpg)

Volker had probably spent too long trying to work out if the goblin was joking, until he remembered that goblin humour invariably involved inflicting suffering on some poor unfortunate, even one of their own. If it was a joke, then he would have to keep an eye on Farq. Goblins were renowned for having more cunning than orcs, but too much cunning could make Farq dangerous to any who believed him to be their friend or follower.

(https://i.imgur.com/jt0bMXE.jpg)

Of more immediate concern to Volker was his chief wizard, Arcabar, for the man was on the wrong side of old for a battle, toothless and wizened, despite his obvious ability to weave formidable conjurations.

(https://i.imgur.com/5umnYqd.jpg)

The previous night Arcabar had reassured him that if he was strong enough survive the flip they were drinking, a heady mixture of rum, beer and sugar, heated up with a red-hot poker, then he was strong enough for battle. When asked if he lived that morning, Arcabar had belched before opening his eyes, then asked, “Can the dead do that?” Now, as they advanced, Arcabar proved he was indeed strong enough to hurt the foe, for he conjured up a magical shower of lightning bolts to hurl towards the crossbowmen at the enemy’s front and centre, cowering behind their makeshift barricade.

(https://i.imgur.com/WecSPh4.jpg)

Three of the crossbowmen fell, one screaming horribly, the other two deathly silent as their blackened bodies crumpled. Volker could also see several balls of fire arcing towards the archers concealed in the orchard, undoubtedly invoked by Vedus, but unlike Arcabar’s blue bolts, they dissipated before they reached the enemy. Arcabar himself did not seem to notice his fellow wizard’s failure, busy as he was with killing two more of the crossbowmen with yet another spell, this time causing a sheet of fire to burst from the very ground they stood upon.

Just as Volker wondered what the guns were up to …

(https://i.imgur.com/g0mi55C.jpg)

… he heard the rippling sound of shots, loud and louder, from all along the line. Impressive, he thought, as the gun on his right sent chain-shot into the already mauled crossbowmen, killing three more. The militia, half their number already charred or torn to pieces, with hardly a moment having passed since the Sartosans began their advance, could take no more and fled from the barrier.

(https://i.imgur.com/602zZT6.jpg)

“Fare thee well,” said some wit from the ranks behind.

A moment later there came another boom, this time louder, followed by the sound of shouting from his own lines. One of the brace of pieces to his left had blown up! Volker didn’t know it, but the other had failed to fire altogether. Its crew were not bitter - not after what they had just witnessed. They were just thankful to be alive!

(https://i.imgur.com/w18yEDT.jpg)

As the enemy’s mounted pistoliers had cantered forwards one of the swivels found its mark and tore one of them from his saddle. The rest, however, closed in on the handgunners on the far flank.

(https://i.imgur.com/aRmNsMe.jpg)

The volley of pistol fire proved surprisingly accurate as they killed five of the nine pirates. Luckily for the rest of the Sartosans, their success was not equalled by the Alcentian ordnance on the other far flank. The gunners lined their muzzle up on the surviving Sartosan gun facing them …

(https://i.imgur.com/WE6WokV.jpg)

… but their shot merely clipped the piece as it passed harmlessly through the shaken crew.

Father Vettorio, the Morrite priest serving Sersale and several surrounding villages, seeing militia Sergeant Ivo bravely rallying his battered crossbowmen despite their recent mauling, thought to help them with a blessing of protection, but found his prayer thwarted by the enemy wizards.

(https://i.imgur.com/TYTQFQR.jpg)

It seemed his prayers were not going to be strong enough, not with such powerful magic users in opposition. Despite the doubt he suddenly felt concerning the defence of his parish, Vettorio’s courage was not diminished. Neither he nor the Sersalian militia swordsmen he led intended to depart the village.

Live or die, they would stay here either way.

(Turn 1 completed)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on February 22, 2021, 12:50:40 AM
Just finished from the Jan 10th instalment by von Zorn to the last word above. Amazing. That battle for the city was terrific.  Where did that pic of the explosion come from? 
I might be losin it but that was great writing.
Can’t wait for the next.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 23, 2021, 11:52:28 AM
Thank you, Spirit of Artoban. The explosion was really amateurishly done with a phone torch, some red and yellow rags, a steam iron and a 2 second countdown on my camera to get the steam right (ish).

Here is the next installment ...


The Fight for Sersale Continued

(https://i.imgur.com/RS8OFuE.jpg)

Admiral Volker did not need to command his army to continue the advance as everyone knew to do so. The enemy stood their ground, obviously satisfied with their deployment. He would be too if he were one of them, thought Volker, for despite the basic and limited nature of their defences, they had used them well.

(https://i.imgur.com/dQUYU7P.jpg)

Volker did, however, shout across to Arcabar, then pointed towards the archers lurking in the orchard.

(https://i.imgur.com/MaLb9RE.jpg)

Arcabar nodded and lifted his staff to signal to Vedus further down the line, advancing with the pikemen.

(https://i.imgur.com/nS3d7L5.jpg)

Vedus did not really need the encouragement, for they had been the target of his last spell. Forcing himself to ignore the blaring horn being sounded beside him, he fixed his eyes on the archers and once again began his incantation.

(https://i.imgur.com/gSbJeAv.jpg)

This time twice as many flaming orbs coalesced from the ether, already in motion as they rent their way into the material realm to course at speed towards the trees, trailing blue sparks. Upon hitting the branches, they spewed sheets of fizzling flames which rained down on the men cowering behind the stone wall below, incapacitating half a dozen and causing the remaining handful to leap, smoking and screaming, over the rear wall and through the men at arms on the other side. They only stopped when they reached the building over the street.

(https://i.imgur.com/qXPHUQi.jpg)

[(Game Note: The men at arms, having no character to lead them, were in danger of fleeing too. But they rolled snake eyes for their Panic test!)

As he squinted to look through the smoke and ascertain how well he had done, Vedus suddenly noticed a coiling eddy of excess magical energy coalescing above him, at the very spot where the fireballs had crossed the seam dividing the realms. He had badly misjudged the etheric force drawn into his spell and clearly failed to control even half of it. His squint turned into a wince, less than a second before the broiling energy folded itself inside out then exploded with an exponentially magnified power (yet no sound at all). The blast sucked the very air from his lungs and he struggled to stay upon his feet. When he finally managed to draw a choking breath, his throat blazed with pain at the heat of it. Opening the one eye he could, he saw that many more than half the men he had been marching with had fallen to the ground, lifeless or senseless, while those few still on their feet, like himself, reeled and wheezed in shock.

(Game note, a miscast roll of 4, Dimensional Cascade, killed 15 pikemen! Remaining casting dice lost.)

The blast’s soundlessness meant that Volker noticed the horror on Arcabar’s face before he spotted the confusion amongst the pike. It appeared that the company had stumbled into a patch of potholes and so taken a tumble, and for a moment he entertained the thought that the enemy might have dug more pit-traps around the village, but then the look on his wizard’s face made it obvious that something much more serious had happened. When Arcabar spat the word ‘Fool’ out, Volker knew Vedus was to blame.

First the cannon, now Vedus. It seemed neither powder nor magic were to be relied on today! Yet the next few moments suggested that powder, with which his army was plentifully supplied, could still contribute to their success. First, an iron roundshot punched through the hedge before enemy’s gun to smash into the gun itself, disabling it and badly wounding its crew. Then the surviving four handgunners out by the river, their comrades lying dead or dying around them …

(https://i.imgur.com/1KoS64l.jpg)

… fired their pieces to throw three more pistoliers from their saddles. The horsemen turned quickly around to gallop away somewhat quicker than they had come. Not quick enough to outrun the shots of the swivel gunner’s in the trees, though.

(https://i.imgur.com/AVhGKLk.jpg)

Not wanting to miss out on the sport, the swivels also fired and another three horsemen died. This only hastened the pistoliers’ frantic retreat!

(https://i.imgur.com/Kh51qUK.jpg)

The swivel gunners now found themselves somewhat at a loss, for with the only enemy they could see galloping away, it seemed there might be little else for them to do.

“Wait” shouted one of them in jest towards the last of pistoliers. “Come back! We’ve still got powder!”

(https://i.imgur.com/z1PbNBx.jpg)

The cannon on the Sartosans’ right fired chainshot into the halberdiers in the village, tearing three of them almost in half! Fearing the recently rallied crossbowmen might once again falter at the sight (and sound) of this, Father Vettorio now ran ahead to join them at the barricade.

(https://i.imgur.com/JEikYS9.jpg)

There he prayed that Morr would curse the wizard in white, and indeed could sense his god’s will manifesting though him, but this momentary hope was dashed as the enemy’s countermagic proved too strong. Disheartened he found himself surprised by the sudden snaps of the crossbows as they brought down four of the goblins now charging at him. There were so many goblins, though, that it was doubtful the rest even noticed, and the next moment Vettorio found himself suddenly close to the greenskin mob!

(https://i.imgur.com/eD7PJaQ.jpg)

Volker had begun to order his own regiment to charge the crossbows, but that had faltered as Farq’s mob hurtled by, blocking the way. When he spied the four trampled goblins left in their wake, quarrels piercing their corpses, he found it quite easy to console himself at the lost opportunity. Better them then my boys, he thought. Still, knowing the goblins, his boys might yet have to do the real work. Farq’s boast of the previous night, that he and his lads would get stuck in first, might well have proved true, but that did not mean they would stay ‘stuck in’!

Arcabar, having apparently spotted the damage done to the halberdiers by the chain shot, was obviously intent on seeing what he could do to further their misery. He conjured up a shower of burning blue bolts to equal the cannon’s tally. The halberdiers, however, were apparently made of strong stuff, for they took this as they had taken the chainshot and stood their ground.

(https://i.imgur.com/j0Ktbrz.jpg)

Vedus and his shattered pikemen were now very close to the men at arms, but their will had been sapped and they came to a halt. For now, the thought of ditching their pikes to cross two stone walls and assail the armoured professionals massed on the other side, seemed like madness. Apparently, the men at arms understood the pike were no longer a threat, for not a one of them even glanced at Vedus and his comradees, intent instead on watching how the crossbow fight against the goblins up ahead.

(https://i.imgur.com/j91Qdxj.jpg)

One of the pikemen was shouting something about going around the orchard, but what with the resumption of the horn’s incessant blaring and the continued confusion of his thoughts since his dreadful miscasting, Vedus failed to respond either by word or deed!

(https://i.imgur.com/szAPEO0.jpg)

(Game Note: I know, I know, Jamie, you chose not to charge the pike attack simply because you believed they would fail and so pointlessly endanger your wizard, which is no good thing in a campaign game. That wizard might be needed for moving on to capture the city, where the real loot lay. But when a picture comes out like that, and after what the wounded wizard had been through, this ‘spun’ version of events seems utterly undeniable! Look at the guy shouting and pointing!)

While the handgunners and swivels fired yet more bullets at the broken pistoliers, killing all but one, and the two remaining pieces of ordnance shot chain to fell a handful of halberdiers as well as some of the men at arms, Captain Farq and his horde fought the crossbowmen at the barricade.

(https://i.imgur.com/28RODhw.jpg)

Several goblins died as their shoddily maintained pistols blew apart, while Bagnam Farq himself malingered in the second rank trying to look busy without committing himself to any real fighting.

(Game Note: The campaign list rules re: ‘Robbed Pistols’ and Farq’s ‘goblin merchant boss’ rule ‘Not the Bravest of Sorts’ came into play here. These guys truly are nearly all bluff and bluster!)

It was a bitter fight, and despite the fact that the casualties were pretty much even on both sides, the sheer weight of numbers was on the goblins’ side.

(https://i.imgur.com/ujUg8Pi.jpg)

Father Vettorio and the crossbowmen, no longer numerous to defend every part of the barricade, broke, to be cut down almost immediately by their whooping and baying foe. Sheer press of numbers meant the goblins burst right over the barricade and within moments had slammed into the men at arms, calmly awaiting their arrival.

(https://i.imgur.com/4LBD5oo.jpg)

(Game note: You can probably see from the penultimate picture above that the goblins pursuit carried them into the three leftmost men at arms. More than a mere clipping. As per the rules, or certainly as we have always played them, we then maximized the number fighting on both sides and thus the full-on clash of the last picture.)

Half way through Turn 3!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on February 23, 2021, 12:13:54 PM
Thanks for that! I noticed your post as I was getting ready to leave for work. Luckily the schedule at this time of year is loose and no one will notice I am late 😺
I’m lovin this!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 26, 2021, 10:30:20 AM
I am really happy you are enjoying the campaign, Artoban. I know I have my players, but without others reading the reports I think I wouldn't want to put all this effort in!

...

The Fight at Sersale Continued
Turns 3.5 – 6

(https://i.imgur.com/AJo93XC.jpg)

Although it was some time before he would know it, Volker’s earlier musings concerning the possibility of a relief force proved to be partially correct. A company of light horse, the Black Gulf Road Wardens, a band of mostly Arabyan mercenaries who patrolled the VMC’s protectorate realm, now galloped onto the field of battle close to the Sartosans’ baggage and their left-most piece of ordnance. There were not enough of them to swing the advantage of numbers, nor realistically to increase the Alcentian’s chances of victory, but their presence near the gun, and especially the baggage, was a very worrying development for the pirates.

(https://i.imgur.com/z3FbR5h.jpg)

Certainly, the gunners and those men tasked with guarding the baggage were alarmed. The first made extra haste in the reloading of their piece with chain-shot, while the second commenced a heated debate concerning whether they should form a body to fight or hide amongst the baggage to better their chances against arrows. The loudest was shouting that the enemy must have intended this all the time, and that the village’s defence was a merely ruse to draw the army into a fight while the baggage was taken. Louder still was the answer from an old, one-legged sea-dog,

“Aye, I reckon you’re right. Now catch up and help us decide what to do about it!”

Being near the village and in the front rank of his marching crewmen, Volker attention was held by what was going on ahead of him. Farq’s goblins had already poured over the defences, cut down the last of the crossbowmen and crashed pell-mell into the armoured men at arms awaiting beyond. They would have their work cut out for them, thought Volker, as the enemy they now faced were obviously not militia but professional mercenaries, carapaced in steel.

(https://i.imgur.com/4LBD5oo.jpg)

The goblins might just find their rust-ridden, ill-sharpened blades would struggle to penetrate such armour. Still, Volker thought, if Farq can hold the enemy back just long enough, he and his own lads could get at the swordsmen. Suddenly, as he belatedly realised they were bound to do, the swordsmen charged into Farq’s flank.

Now it would take divine help for Farq’s scurvied scallywags to stand their ground for any time at all.

(https://i.imgur.com/INkaUvx.jpg)

The remnant of the pike body to Volker’s left were clearly no longer in a fit state to assist anyone effectively, and even if the goblins held long enough for his own men to join the fight by charging the swordsmen, that would give the enemy halberdiers an opportunity to flank charge him! What resulted would be right, royal mayhem, and possibly exactly what the defenders had been planning.

He needed a moment to think.

(https://i.imgur.com/TyYoZ30.jpg)

So he took that moment, while his lads watched the goblins’ fate with sick fascination.

Game Note: My campaign players are in truth roleplaying one character. If they die, they are effectively out of the campaign, until we can work out who they can be and how to get them back in! Establishing their new character can be a long, hard struggle! Jamie is Admiral Volker, and commander of the Sartosans. He was once Razger Boulderguts the ogre tyrant, who left Tilea with a huge haul of loot after his chevauchee. Now Jamie is Admiral Volker, which is not so different as he is after loot yet again. But he has to stay be alive to enjoy it!

As the butchery began in the village, with nearly four times as many goblins falling as men, the horse archers in the rear loosed a flight of arrows at the gunners, killing one, even as the gunners hauled the piece about to face them. Staring down the muzzle, more than one of the riders felt their stomachs knot in fear as they reached for a second arrow - they knew the gun would fire before they could loose.

With eleven goblins killed, and large enemy bodies assailing from two sides …

(https://i.imgur.com/Zfixj61.jpg)

… Farq and his boys did what everyone else knew they did well. They ran away. The men at arms stood their ground, but the militia swordsmen, rage momentarily getting the better of them, pushed forwards a good few steps before their captain could halt them.

(https://i.imgur.com/FMHEVWu.jpg)

The goblins hurtled through the enclosure towards Captain Garique’s handgunners, leaving an only slightly disrupted enemy line behind them.

(https://i.imgur.com/06fQt3s.jpg)

Farq later swore that Garique’s lads presented their pieces at his goblins, to which the captain answered that no such thought ever crossed his mind. Only those involved knew the truth of it, and they stuck to their stories. For whatever reason, the goblins halted and reformed to face the enemy. The consensus amongst the rest of the army was that it would have taken just such an event to stop the goblins’ flight. Farq himself claimed that he when he heard Volker’s command, he simply and obediently did what he was told.

Volker had decided the enemy needed a touch more softening up before he committed his own boys to the fight, and so while the blunderbusses and dwarfs continued their long march towards the orchard on the flank, he ordered his own men to move a little to the right, clearing a line of fire for the gun behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/4UN0iIT.jpg)

Vedus now headed off alone towards the horsemen. The pikemen were only too glad to see him leave. He could have commanded them to go with him, so not to expose himself to too much to harm, but in light of his previous, dreadful mishandling of the etheric winds, he decided he had put them through quite enough and ought not endanger them anymore. It also meant he could be less concerned about any spellcasting missteps.

(https://i.imgur.com/BLiDxyc.jpg)

Fixing his eyes, indeed his whole mind, upon the riders, and happy to see they had to get too close to the baggage or the gun, he nervously wove what little magical breeze was available to generate and loose a flurry of fireballs. Three horses and their riders perished in the conjured conflagration, while the rest were singed by the heat.  Yet they did not falter or flee.

He cursed, silently, for it had seemed to him that he had missed his chance at redemption. Then watched as a fourth rider crumpled to the ground, both horse and man horribly torn by the chain-shot fired by the cannon before them, and yet the riders still did not flee. Vedus cursed again, for as they spurred their horses and began to level their spears, he knew they were not going to try archery again. He could see from the surviving gunner’s wide eyes that they too had the measure of what was coming their way!

The other gun, a way cleared before it to reveal the recently victorious men at arms …

(https://i.imgur.com/43YMivM.jpg)

… now blasted chain-shot. Armour proved insufficient against such a missile, and five of the mercenaries perished most bloodily. Rather than panic them, the event seemed merely to act as some sort of sign. In good order, they moved into the building behind them. Volker assumed at first that they were seeking somewhere to shelter, but then changed his mind for their calmness made that seem unlikely. They moved with precision, entirely unlike hard-pressed men looking for somewhere to hide. What new trickery was this?

His line of thought was broken, however, as the swordsmen charged Farq’s mob yet again. After a brief but messy fight, in which the goblins hurriedly fired counter-shot and famous ineptness with powder killed two of their own to add to those cut down by the foe, Farq and his boys broke and fled right through Garique’s handgunners, this time failing to notice whether any muzzles pointed their way!

(https://i.imgur.com/XPeVlQf.jpg)

This left the swordsmen somewhat exposed, especially as the halberdiers had about faced like the men at arms and were now marching off towards the city. That settled it for Volker – he knew what the enemy had surely intended all the time. The enemy had never expected to win, but only to delay and wound him, before returning to the city to man the walls, where they would face his army in a weakened state, or perhaps bolstered by a relief force now given just enough time to arrive?

(https://i.imgur.com/p3LFPa4.jpg)

If he had known what was happening to the rear, it would only have bolstered his theory, for the horsemen had cut down the gun’s remaining crew. Several of them quickly dismounted to work out how they might disable the gun permanently. They knew a spike would be only temporary, for it could be drilled out, and so now argued whether to attempt to drag the gun away or blow it up with its own powder.

(https://i.imgur.com/hcnWMEP.jpg)

The baggage close by, heavily weighted with loot, seemed of no interest to them. They were surely operating under orders, as part of some desperate strategy and were only interesting in disabling of stealing the gun.

(Game Note: My players and I have had to come up with some campaign house-rules to cover the ‘recovery’ of cannons that have not exploded but just lost their crew. It is easy enough for the BRB to say the crew models indicate the remaining number of wounds, but when it comes to campaign casualty recovery, more thought is required!)

As Farq once again managed to halt his goblins, this time from a position of safety in the rear of the fighting line, Volker gave a simple command,

“Have at them!”

And led his crews over the hedge into the swordsmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/z7yCDoZ.jpg)

The fight was brutal, just as Volker knew it would be. His men might not have armour and shields, but they were festooned with blades and pistols, and he and van Baas were famously skilled in the art of applying both. Arcabar the wizard cast the spell Flaming Sword to further improve the Sartosan’s deadliness, just before he himself was wounded. Several of the enemy had gone for him in particular, at the cost of letting down their guard to the other pirates. Here too was a sign that they were acting on orders to weaken Volker’s army, not to save the village.

(https://i.imgur.com/zrsqyM4.jpg)

Arcabar’s pain meant he failed to notice a sudden flare in the etheric breeze. Vedus, his apprentice, had summoned up fireballs to fell another pair of horsemen, but yet again, perhaps catalysed by the continued discombobulation of his mind caused by his previous failure, he had lost control of the conjuration and the energies he had failed to bind now seared his mind. Staggering dizzily, he clutched at his temples, temporarily robbed of his senses. Moment’s later, as the sights and sounds of his surroundings began to reappear, he knew something was badly wrong. And part of what was wrong was that for some time he could not for the life of him work out what it was.

Game Note: Another Miscast, ‘Power Drain’. He lost two levels and all his spells, now becoming level zero. You might have guessed this was coming, but my players and I have now had to come up with some campaign house-rules concerning the ‘recovery’ of wizard’s magic levels. It is easy enough for the BRB to say the wizard’s level is ‘permanently’ reduced, but that is in terms of the tabletop game, one battle, not an ongoing campaign. Some considerable debate ensued, and I had to do a bit of haggling. I try not to be a tyrannical GM!)

Indeed, so befuddled were Vedus’ wits in that moment, that he failed to notice that the last surviving gun and the swivels in the central trees (the latter yet to contribute to the battle at all) between them now killed four more of the riders. The last survivors, spattered by the blood of their dead and dying comrades and their horses, abandoned their now fruitless efforts to drag the gun away and fled the field. They would not stop galloping until they reached the city walls. Nor did their mounts complain, being only too happy to put the fires and bullets ever further behind!

At the little enclosure before the village, a queue was forming! The Sartosans were stacking up in a column with the goblins at the rear and Volker’s men at the front.

(https://i.imgur.com/HMH3lhi.jpg)

The main body of Sartosans had cut down a veritable swathe of the swordsmen. Unsurprisingly, the Alcentians turned and fled, running right through the halberdiers behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/8QuqfhE.jpg)

But even this did not break the defenders’ will, as both the halberdiers reformed to face the foe, as did the swordsmen to the rear!

(https://i.imgur.com/JHl99uZ.jpg)

Another jump been made in this deadly game of leapfrog, with more surely yet to come. Volker knew exactly what the enemy were up to. Each time he assaulted them, his wizard Arcabar was carried into the fray. If the Sartosans halted to allow the wizard to leave, then the enemy would do the charging.

(https://i.imgur.com/7JDUWg8.jpg)

Volker had not expected such bravery and stubbornness. And Arcabar had not expected to be wounded in the melee.

(https://i.imgur.com/a8ZauxC.jpg)

(Vedus, on the other hand, had forgotten what he had expected, along with pretty much all that he had done that day. It would take him some time to realise he has forgotten all his incantations too! )

So it was, as the sky began to darken that Volker and his men had to fight and break the halberdiers, then fight the swordsmen yet again!

(https://i.imgur.com/06e5SkD.jpg)

The day was won, bar the last bout of fighting. None of the swordsmen would ever leave Sersale. Volker learned later that it was their village, and thus unlike the rest of their force, they had never intended to leave.

At what cost, though, this victory? Volker asked himself. The city lay before him, but it would be defended, and not only by the men at arms who snuck so cleverly away, but by whatever other forces had been obtained or raised while the battle here was fought. He had begun the day with three pieces of ordnance. Now he had only one. Two wizards had marched here with his army. Now one of them was a mere shell of a man, emptied of all magical powers. Volker’s mauled regiments were mostly intact, especially as his army could now tend the wounded, but he was far from home and there would be no reinforcements for him before he attacked the city.

Meanwhile the Alcentians not only could recruit and hire from the eastern parts of their realm, or the city itself, or even by way of the sea, for lack of manpower meant his fleet was unable to blockade the city. His ships had skeleton crews, for most of his mariners were here with him.

All this fighting, and he had yet to face the VMC’s actual army! Of course, the army’s absence was the very reason he had come, but he had now been in the realm of Alcente so long now that it could conceivably arrive any day. The reports had said they were far to the north, but reports could be wrong. 

Perhaps, even with a famously rich city so close, it was time take what he had, plus what his lads could loot from Sersale, and return to Sartosa? Surely that was enough to sate his army?

He had more thinking to do!

...


Thank you Jamie and David for your patience during this week-long pay by e-mail battle. Now I have the last campaign map moves etc of the season to make, and 6 long (private) reports to write!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 28, 2021, 12:03:12 PM
I know this goes 7 (real world) years back from current campaign events, to a simpler time, but part 4 of my video version of the account is up on YouTube. The delay was mainly because of the work on the new battle report - I am apparently working at this campaign from both ends, as well as currently kit-bashing a new regiment of gas-masked skaven!

You can find the new video, 'All That Astiano Has to Offer', a short and simple battle report to get the campaign going, at ...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n15rCmaUuko

(https://i.imgur.com/GC1bNIW.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 14, 2021, 08:34:10 PM
(https://i.imgur.com/swYpmAC.jpg)

To His Holiness Bernado Ugolini, Most Highly Favoured of Morr, from your faithful servant, Brother Migliore
Upon the second day of summer, 2404


If it pleases your holiness, I hereby and humbly present that which I have learned from my correspondence with the servants of our Holy Church of Morr, scattered throughout Tilea.

Several great battles were fought this Spring, and as one old enemy was pushed further from Tilea’s heart, another revealed itself to present an open threat. Two undead armies were annihilated by the Lord Alessio’s alliance force, in which your own Reman soldiers honourably serve, but even as these great victories were obtained, a swarm of ratto uomo emerged to the east to capture Ravola, driving out the Bretonnian Brabanzon mercenaries who had only recently taken possession of the walled city from the last of Razger Boulderguts’ ogres. What few Brabanzon survived, led by the wizard Perette, escape to find refuge in the forests, there meeting with the outlawed Arrabiatti Brotherhood, before making their way south to the city of Campogrotta.

(https://i.imgur.com/DL6BS4h.jpg)

It is possible the Arrabiati brotherhood of shadows grew in strength during the time of Razger Bouldergut’s rule, as those who fled slavery joined them to strike at the ogre tyrant’s forces wherever and whenever they could. I can report that they have amongst them at least one Morrite priest, whose name I do not know. Once the ogres departed Tilea, it seems they intended to contribute to the war against the vampires, but now the rat-men present a more immediate threat to their traditional home. The people of Campogrotta have joked that the Arrabiatti would accept with open arms all those they once called tyrants, if it meant that rats, brutes and walking corpses were finally gone!

Campogrotta’s ruler, the condottiere General Mazallini, was awarded governorship of the city realm by the dwarf King Jaldeog as part-payment for his service in the war against the ogres. The general had already dispatched relief north to Ravola after receiving a report that the ogres had returned to lay siege there. That force soon learned it was rat-men not ogres, and that Ravola had already fallen, then travelled back to the city with the wizard Perette and the surviving Brabanzon to report on the situation.

(https://i.imgur.com/dmGz0ls.jpg)

Mazallini has apparently failed to send out another, larger force as yet. It may well be that he is awaiting advice or assistance from his patron, King Jaldeog of the mountain realm, or perhaps he is instead simply preparing for the defence of Campogrotta in the struggle ahead?

The general has published the sent the following missive to all Tilea’s rulers and governors  …

Quote
A warning freely given to all the lawful rulers and powers of Tilea, concerning a new threat in the north.

I, General Bruno Mazallini, commander of the Compagnia del Sole and Governor of the city realm of Campogrotta, do hereby advertise to all those with ears to hear that once again the wretched Ratto Uomo have poured forth in strength from their vile lairs to taint the land of Tilea. They have already taken the realm of Ravola, and doubtless intend to swarm further south. Reports of their forces have also come from the vicinity of Trantio, where they were sighted by Lord Alessio of Portomaggiore’s soldiers, despite a complete lack of reports from the lands between Ravola and Trantio. From this, two inferences can be made:

First, that the ratto uomo assuredly seize and befoul much more than Ravola alone.

Second, that they have tunnelled under a significant stretch of the realm.

These undeniable facts mean that every Tilean state needs to ensure its preparedness for the oncoming fight, and to join in alliance to bolster the strength of arms that can be brought to bear. Tilea, Estalia and the Border Princes have suffered greatly at the hands of the rat-men throughout history, sometimes caught by surprise due the adversary’s cunning ways, but here is a warning – their hand has been shown. We must act quickly and assuredly. Forewarned is only forearmed if each and every state ensures it preparedness, making what efforts are required, spending the necessary gold and mustering sufficient forces. A forewarning ignored forespells only doom.

No engines were used in the assault on Ravola, instead they arrived only after the city was taken. Whether their tardiness was deliberate or the result of some delay, we know not, but any general would surely consider an assault against a city whilst lacking war machines a foolhardy exercise. 

(https://i.imgur.com/WqDsx64.jpg)

Their noxious catapults and incinerating cannons are only too well known from the many occasions they have been used in the past. Furthermore, my own scouts and others have reported that the ratto uomo have in their possession a poison that can taint large swathes of land, and indeed has already done so, despite not yet being deployed in battle. This is something new, housed in some kind of engine, able to kill every living close to it, even before it is brought to bear against a foe. Something so destructive that it bleeds poison merely by its passage. Its true nature can only be guessed at, but every blade of grass, every tiny, crawling creature upon the ground over which it passed, withers and dies. Those of my men who spent only a short time at the site of its passage have sickened and remain in perilous health. All of which suggests that great ruin and terror might result should this weapon’s potential be unleashed.

(https://i.imgur.com/L0Vt1LD.jpg)

Even now brave scouts are attempting to discover the engine’s true nature. I have ordered my own servants and soldiers to do all they can to learn more and am preparing for the battle ahead. But if Ravola, defended by a not inconsiderable garrison, failed against what seems to have been nothing more than an advance force of their main strength, then all should know that any one state alone is unlikely to withstand this enemy.

If you do not wish to see Campogrotta fall, so allowing the enemy to take a step closer to your own realms, and to be made bolder by their victory, then I would advise you act decisively and swiftly, immediately sending what relief you can to assist mine own forces in thwarting this threat. The ogres have ravaged city after city, and the vampires also cut deep, but let not a final, fatal blow be delivered by the ratto-uomo. There remains in Tilea strength sufficient to the task in hand, now is not the time to let it lie idle, nor to squander it for want of trust and cooperation among us.

May all the gods pour their blessings upon us their dutiful servants and may brave Myrmidia inspire sound strategy in our commanders, and true courage among our soldiers.


As I have already alluded to, in the north west, Lord Alessio Falconi’s alliance army fought two great battles, first defeating the vampire duchess at the Second Battle of Pontremola, then driving out the last of the undead forces from the city of Ebino. Not only were the undead armies annihilated, but the vampire duchess herself and nearly all her lieutenants were finally, truly killed. Determined to see his grim task through to its conclusion, despite the threat to his own realm presented by the Sartosan pirates raiding the peninsula’s southern coasts, Lord Alessio forces are even now probing the nightmare realm of Miragliano …

(https://i.imgur.com/S5JBghn.jpg)

… intending to cleanse the city state of all corruption. In his first victory, the Portomaggioran and Reman soldiers recaptured the carroccio looted by the vampires’ servants from Arch-Lector Calictus II’s defeated army. Lord Alessio has ordered that this be re-sanctified to holy Morr, so it can be used to help in the cleansing necessary in the rotten realm of Miragliano. A young priest from Campogrotta has travelled to assist Father Bendali in this task.

Lord Alessio’s efforts are to be further assisted by the somewhat late arrival of the army of the VMC to join his alliance force, or, more accurately, by the arrival of half of the VMC’s marching army. The VMC general, Jan Valckenburgh, shortly after being entertained in Remas by Arch-Lector Bernado Ugolini and having received the gift of the greatest piece of artillery in Remas, learned of the depredations of the Sartosan pirates in his realm of Alcente, including the razing of his town of Mintopua. So it was that he decided to return post-haste with half his army …

(https://i.imgur.com/QIgGZ5t.jpg)

… to the relief of his beleaguered realm, while the Mryrmiddian priestess Luccia La Fanciulla led the remainder of his forces northwards to rendezvous as promised with Lord Alessio and assist in the war against the vampires.

(https://i.imgur.com/pmuIm1P.jpg)

It is said that General Valckenburgh saw fit to take the mighty cannon he was gifted by the leader of the Morrite church with him towards home, despite the fact that it would surely slow him down, or that it was intended for the war against the Morrite church’s old enemy, the undead. Many a Tilean is unsurprised by this, what with the callous, profit-centred nature of the VMC widely spoken of.

(https://i.imgur.com/M1VEeJD.jpg)

Nevertheless, Luccia la Fanciulla, the wizard Johannes Deeter and his apprentice Serafina Rosa and a considerable force of pike, shot and brutes, have joined the Portomaggiorans and your Reman army in the camp outside Ebino, perhaps thus forming the mightiest army mustered in Tilea for an hundred years.

(https://i.imgur.com/jBR3p6u.jpg)

This great army now ready to advance boldly into Miragliano, and it is widely assumed that it will surely sweep all enemies before it, cleansing the realm and exterminating this current line of vampires.



In the far south, Admiral Volker’s army of Sartosan pirates has looted its way through no less than three settlements in the realm of Alcente. They began with the town of Mintopua, where their arrival caught the inhabitants entirely by surprise, then marched on to raze both Motolla and Sersale, facing only minimal resistance at the first and more stubborn but ultimately futile resistance at the second. Made rich by the plunder of all three settlements, Admiral Volker is presumably now weighing up his chances of taking the richest prize, the city of Alcente itself. At Sersale his ordnance was much reduced by mishaps, and one of his two wizards suffered almost catastrophic consequences of his mishandling of magic, thus reducing exactly the elements the Sartosans might need to assail the walls of a major city successfully.

(https://i.imgur.com/IYDTKeL.jpg)

Meanwhile, in the city itself, despite the fact most of the militia tasked with defending the city had already died at Sersale, a compliment of battle-hardened mercenaries survived, while supplies and reinforcements were able to reach the city almost entirely freely, as the Sartosan fleet, stripped of most of its manpower to form Volker’s land army, was unable to hinder the VMC vessels’ passage to and from the port.

(https://i.imgur.com/UDPXvpJ.jpg)

Three Alcentian settlements may lie in ruins, their populaces mauled and bruised, anything of value stolen, but the VMC possess several other settlements to the north and east, from which supplies came by way of road and sea, which should allow the VMC to recruit, arm and train new militia and even bring in new mercenary forces. And better still, half of the VMC’s marching army, still a considerable force in its own right, is marching home and is generally believed to be no more than a few weeks away. All of which means the citizens are confident that the enemy cannot take their city, and once again – after a period of some doubt – are of the opinion that their city council made the right decision when requesting the VMC’s protection from their enemies. The orc warlord Khurnag barely harmed their realm, and now, it seems, despite having done more harm, the Sartosan sea dogs’ stride has been broken, and their chance of taking the richest prize has possibly slipped out of their grasp.

It is generally presumed, for want of any report to the contrary, that the Sartosans still possess the person of the Luccinan king, Ferronso. A ransom was neither agreed nor forthcoming, and the young, royal hostage’s uncle, the wizard Duke Ercole Perrotto, remains resident in Portomaggiore, pleading daily for aid in raising the required sum in gold. The duke’s requests have fallen on worse than deaf ears, but rather no ears at all, as Lord Alessio is campaigning far to the north against the vampires. Such a sum as would be required to satisfy the Sartosans could never be raised nor released without the ruler’s express command, and he has many more immediate concerns to occupy him!

General Marsilio da Fermo, once commander of Luccini’s army, has returned to Luccini to take charge of the healing of the grievous wounds inflicted by the pirates. Very little of value escaped their avarice, from precious gems and metals to livestock, but crops remain in the fields and vines still have grapes to harvest, for the Sartosans’ goal was theft, not complete destruction. They took anything of value which could be carried, and all the meat and drink they could find, but grain and grape remain, and enough people to harvest it.



Meanwhile the realm of Pavona continues its own recovery from its mauling by Bouldergut’s grand chevauchee. Much of the city state lays in ruins, but the town of Scozzese has become an almost thriving market and promises the chance yet again for Duke Guidobaldo to raise tax revenues from his subjects - a very necessary source of income now that no banking house will loan him even a copper token. His own, much diminished, army remains intact and retains a core of fanatical, veteran soldiers of several campaigns from which he could possibly, given time, begin to rebuild the sort of army he once commanded. This reassures the people of Pavona and worries the neighbouring realms in equal measure!

As a consequence, there has been much activity in the neighbouring realm of Verezzo, where Barone Iacopo, Lord of Poliena and now the realm’s Capitano del Popolo, is raising new forces to counter any future threat from Pavona. The barone served in the allied army at the Valley of Norochia, then later rushed home to Verezzo when he heard of the death of his beloved lord Lucca.

(https://i.imgur.com/q3bjFHd.jpg)

Duke Guidobaldo was never punished for his most treacherous murder Lord Lucca of Verezzo, nor his subsequent attempt to have either the Portomaggiorans or the army of the VMC blamed for the crime.  The VMC general, Valckenburgh, did not see his retaliatory siege of Pavona through to completion, and although once-mighty Pavona has been much battered by Boulderguts’ brutes, and its recovery subsequently slowed by the short-lived siege of the army of the VMC, it seems that Guidobaldo still rules with an iron grip. The barone has warned all his neighbours that if Guidobaldo was willing to attack Astiano and Trantio when his realm was prosperous and powerful, out of a simple greed for more power, then now that his realm has been much diminished and he has become desperate and friendless, he is hardly likely to be less dangerous. The duke of Pavona was always a proud man – his own subjects were taught to call him ‘Morr’s chosen prince’. Now that he had been humiliated by the forced apology he had to make in order to convince the VMC to leave, he could become an even greater danger. He attacked and looted Verezzo out of mere lust for gold and was willing to have others blamed for his evil actions. Having failed in that (and suffered further as a consequence) his want has only increased. What terrible, faithless deeds is he willing to contemplate now?

(https://i.imgur.com/5xGJToj.jpg)

So it is that a new regiment of pike has been formed to bolster Verezzo’s forces; or, more accurately, half-pike, for it is halflings who carry them. They drill almost daily, under Iacopo’s watchful eye, while the entire realm is kept in perpetual readiness should the Pavonans raid again.

(https://i.imgur.com/V4DgOZA.jpg)

There is one Verezzan who is most keen to exact vengeance on Duke Guidobaldo – the famous ‘Pettirosso’, Roberto Cappuccio. It is widely reported that this brigand turned captain turned outlaw has pleaded with Iacopo to attack the Pavonans immediately, while they are weak and before the righteous anger at their crimes diminishes (although Cappuccio claims it can never fade for him). The Capitano del Popolo, however, refuses to launch a hasty attack, instead busying himself with ensuring Verezzo’s defences, whilst raising and drilling an army able to face the Pavonans in the field of battle head on. Which leaves the Pettirosso and his dwindling band of outlaws fighting their own petty war of ambushes and assassinations, picking off Pavonans, firing farms and stealing supplies.

(https://i.imgur.com/S4VFK31.jpg)

Barone Iacopo has even sent secret missives to several Pavonan nobles, even the heir Lord Silvano, in which he declares that perpetual peace and even amity between the two realms is achievable in return for merely handing over Duke Guidobaldo to be tried for his crimes by a jury of peers from neighbouring realms. So far, every missive has been ignored. Indeed, it is said that the duke’s own family and servants have ensured he remains entirely ignorant of the letters, for fear that he might suspect them of treachery simply for the act of receiving them!

So it is, in the very heart of Tilea, while vampires and rat-men threaten the north and Sartosans ravage the south, two once-noble realms are wholly lost in mutual hatred, their long-lived animosity now locked into a desperate squabble over the death of one nobleman.

I hope, your holiness, my letter proves of some use to you. Should you require more particulars, then you have only to ask and if I myself cannot answer I will do my utmost to learn from those who can do so.

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 26, 2021, 09:08:37 AM
My new campaign video is up, Part 5. It was delayed by my need to move the campaign on, writing a bunch of end of season reports. Hopefully, now, the videos will appear slightly more frequently!

I know this is from 7 years ago, but I try not to think about it, otherwise I would realise what a massive job it would be to get the video version of the campaign up to date! Hopefully it can be done in what I have left in this lifetime!

The Chancellors.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGbcGjPYdgM

(https://i.imgur.com/9TDywMo.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Artobans Ghost on March 28, 2021, 11:31:58 AM
Great way to start my Sunday. 6:30 am, yogurt and toast out of the way and a super sized coffee at my side. The last 2 episodes read and enjoyed. I like the wrap ups that happen to bring everything together. Also that pic of the gun being pulled by the oxen.
If you have a map of Tilea to show or a link to give an overall grasp of the geography would be awesome.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 05, 2021, 06:44:53 PM
The next video, part 6, is done! It starts with a spot of history then continues with a prequel story to a forthcoming battle report.

This should get easier, especially as I won't have to re-do the photographs for the later reports, and I should find the process a little easier too.

A Monstrous Assault
https://youtu.be/Tp_0QLYmjKo

(https://i.imgur.com/7KHt8CT.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 07, 2021, 08:27:54 PM
Reworking the Terme Castle bat rep for a video report, and need some better, additional pics.

Just done this scene of the Bretonnian chivalry sent to relieve the castle - I feel sorry for the horses!

(https://i.imgur.com/Wgkqa5z.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Ap0LJs8.jpg)

The paladin, Sir Gregoire de Vienne, leads them ...
(https://i.imgur.com/JL82Amw.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 12, 2021, 08:42:05 PM
My next campaign video is up, which includes the pictures in the previous post, being part 7. I am hitting a weekly stride.

It is the second battle report of the campaign, in which Razger Boulderguts' ogres assault a Bretonnian held castle. It features the original battle pictures from 7 years ago, plus new ones using some of the same figures.

https://youtu.be/F7N_k1AHIMA

(https://i.imgur.com/St0lDxT.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on April 12, 2021, 11:08:00 PM
My next campaign video is up, which includes the pictures in the previous post, being part 7. I am hitting a weekly stride.

It is the second battle report of the campaign, in which Razger Boulderguts' ogres assault a Bretonnian held castle. It features the original battle pictures from 7 years ago, plus new ones using some of the same figures.

No faffing about and going straight to a Director's Cut then eh
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on April 13, 2021, 08:37:44 AM
Ah, these are great! First time I listened to one. :-)

-Z
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 13, 2021, 08:51:52 AM
Thanks Zygumnd. It is gonna take many years just to catch up with the present day campaign moment, by which day the present day campaign will have moved on several years!!!

And yes, SOF, I have to add the extras. When I made the originals (pictures and stories) I did not have video in mind. I just snapped away during the game then used whatever pics came out vaguely focused and made the story work around those pics! For the bat reps I need to put extras in, but can only use my own figures so when a player's figures were in the game that restricts again what I can do! And when I do the stories, I want to re-do all the pics anyway, to hide the bases etc!

Not that I am complaining. I love it. It's a bit like writing history and a bit like writing fiction. I supposed that's because it is the history of a fiction!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 13, 2021, 11:10:56 AM
Yep, these are very good, and very creative. :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 17, 2021, 08:56:37 PM
Some 'extra' pics worked up recently for the next video report ...

(https://i.imgur.com/19e4TB7.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/9fG5w6C.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/VWR5j9V.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/dlUKzSr.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/dhL15BX.jpg)

I won't add to or replace all the pics in the forum thread, as that's several jobs too many when I am supposed to be moving the campaign on. I'm just gonna add the to the BigSmallWorlds website and the video report.

I have more new pics to do!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 17, 2021, 10:18:42 PM
I forgot this, oddly, as it is my favourite of this batch  ...

(https://i.imgur.com/8x3r8Cz.jpg)

Wizard Lord Nicolo and his heavies, being, erm ... heavy!

BTW, all these are extra illustrations for the General Report, End of Season 1 (http://warhammer-empire.com/theforum/index.php?topic=46787.msg840439#msg840439) I can't do video versions without images, and that old report was all text. I just have two more pics to do and I should have all I need!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 25, 2021, 10:38:32 AM
Part 8 of Tilea's Troubles is done and uploaded!

https://youtu.be/mz86e8glWFY
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 03, 2021, 10:27:06 PM
Part 9 of Tilea's troubles is completed:

https://youtu.be/h7L2ryx2kEM

(https://i.imgur.com/wpQWOsd.jpg)

(Yes, those heavily milliputted figures are ancient!)

I am also in the middle of making scenery for the next battle, and writing a new story for the campaign thread, not just more video stories from early in the campaign. There are three battles to do soon, although I do not know whether to wait until the lockdown rules allow us to play them together or whether I should do one or two of them as play by e-mail like the last three!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on May 03, 2021, 10:32:49 PM
Two of those knights are big dudes!

Looking forward to seeing the next installment. :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 05, 2021, 01:38:03 PM
Thanks GP.

Now back the the campaign's 'present day' ...


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pavona’s Hero
Summer, 2401, The City of Pavona

(https://i.imgur.com/myTfoRC.jpg)

The sound of drums could be heard, growing louder. Giovacchino leaned forwards to look over the crowd between him and the street. When the strong ale in his pot sloshed and threatened to spill, he relaxed a little turned to his companion.

“I think this is lunacy,” he announced. “There’s a new war brewing, right on our very doorstep. I think the bloody Verezzans believe they’re strong enough to take us on. Even if they’re not sure, they might be bitter enough to try anyway. Yet Lord Silvano is taking nearly the entire army away on another foreign war! We should finish off the Verezzans first - put an end to their pathetic whining and make sure they don’t try anything else.”

Corporal Aldus was also peering down the street, and answered without glancing at his friend, “Why don’t you take the matter up with the duke?”

“I’m taking the matter up with you!” said Giovacchino. “Look, see, I know this is what Lord Silvano does - riding off to fight monstrous foes - but there’s a time and a place for that sort of nonsense. This ain’t the time at all, and Campogrotta’s too far away to be the right place. I mean, do the Campogrottans even need our help? They’ve an entire bloody army of their own, and that the gods-forsaken Compagnia del Sole, cousins of the very enemy that put us to all that trouble years ago. Why in all the hells are we sending our boys to do the fighting for them? I tell you, there’s no part of this makes sense.”

A company of drummers, being the first in the column, were now passing by, beating up a jaunty march indeed, which was everything to do with this sort of parade and nothing to do with battle calls.

(https://i.imgur.com/8C07Zb7.jpg)

“So, let me get this straight,” said the corporal. “You’re questioning the duke’s orders, yes? Well, my answer to you, my friend, would be that you should think hard about what you say and who you say it to.”

“No, no, no! I’m no fool,” replied Giovacchino. “I’m not saying the Duke is wrong. I just want to understand it myself.”

“Look, the duke’s a hard man, noble, yes, but a man of war. He takes whatever he believes is his by right. He doesn’t suffer fools and exacts swift vengeance on all who trouble him in any way whatsoever. And yet, all that said, what father would deny his only beloved son?”

“Aye, well, that only shifts the blame to the son. Doesn’t make the decision any less foolish.”

Corporal Aldus fixed his stare on Giovacchino. “You’re really not listening, are you? I already warned you - have a care! There are many would take offence to such words. I shall assume you’re trying to understand why Lord Silvano wants to go.”

“That’s it. That’s all. Why?”

“That’s easy. Lord Silvano is what you call a hero, always has been. I reckon since his brother died fighting Prince Girenzo, he’s been desperate to prove himself a worthy successor in his father’s eyes, to show he’s afraid of no challenge and willing to take on any foe.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ZkYjye1.jpg)

“So, you’re saying our army marches off when we’re at our weakest, and when our closest neighbours and others besides have a whole bag o’ bones to pick with us, because a young lord wants to prove his mettle? Maybe he should worry more about being a worthy successor to rule Pavona when his father dies, and to do that he needs to be alive, and there needs to be a bloody Pavona left to rule.”

“You can’t help yourself, can you? Your mouth’ll be the end of you one day, if you don’t die on the end of an enemy’s blade. Stop complaining. We have the city militia, and I reckon there’s many an old soldier would happily muster for the city’s defence if it proved necessary. Pavona will survive and grow strong again. Who cares how loud the Verezzan dogs bay and howl? Any one of us could take on three of them.”

The drummers had passed by, although the sound they made was still filling the street. Now came the colours, marching together as a little company of ensigns. All were quartered blue and white, with some little extra added to each to mark them out on the field – a border, or tassels or a symbol upon the white.

(https://i.imgur.com/H7jJStI.jpg)

Giovacchino sniffed. Then in a quieter voice said,

“It’s not just them though, is it? The VMC scum have unfinished business with us – they left off their siege only because they were persuaded the undead were the bigger problem. And the Verezzans may have been weak in the past, but everyone says they’re building an army squarely intent on revenge for Lord Lucca’s death. Their petty, brigand robbers have already begun the fight, sneaking about in the shadows to pick off our soldiers when they can get away with it without risking a fight. Scouting for them; learning the lay of the land.”

Corporal Aldus grinned. “Then it’s no bad thing Lord Silvano is marching our boys away, ‘cos then brigands won’t be able to kill them.”

Giovacchino spoke even quieter than before. “Except we’ll be among the few that remain, and it’ll be us they’re loosing their arrows at.”

Still cheerful, despite the notion, the corporal said, “I didn’t think of that.”

Now came a body of handgunners, one of which stared over at Aldus and Giovacchino as they passed.

(https://i.imgur.com/e0bYay0.jpg)

“There’s Mariano,” said Aldus. “Does he still owe you sixteen silvers?”

“Aye. He’d better bloody survive ‘cos I need that money.”

“He’ll survive. He’s always been careful. Once told me he never fired his piece in that fight in the Trantine Hills. When I asked him why, he said it was so he wouldn’t have to clean it afterwards.”

“That’s the wrong sort of careful. The stupid sort!” laughed Giovacchino. “Aldus, you say be careful of my words, but it seems to me most people ain’t too pleased about the army leaving. The best anyone could say about this crowd is that it is respectful. None would claim any signs of enthusiasm.”

“They’re just tired,” said the corporal, whose head still ached from the old wound.

(https://i.imgur.com/Cw9pULm.jpg)

“Ha!” laughed Giovacchino. “They’re tired? They want to try marching all the way to Trantio and back, with only fighting to break the journey. If Lord Silvano has the urge to fight a righteous war, then why isn’t he going off to help in the march on Miragliano. The priests are always preaching that we live in Morr’s most cherished realm. Shouldn’t he be fighting the undead?”

(https://i.imgur.com/mVd36a3.jpg)

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” said Aldus. “Duke Guidobaldo announced in his address that the war against the vampires is all but over. The enemy lost army after army trying to take on the Portomaggiorans and Remans, and now they’ve got the VMC against them too. All that’s left is the filthy job of cleaning up Miragliano, and I wouldn’t waste Pavonan lives on such nasty work. I reckon more’ll die of disease in such a wretched realm than in battle! If that war is over, then Lord Silvano obviously wants to make sure that the ratto uomo don’t gain an advantage while the living realms are weakened by the fight against the undead. Verminkind love ruinous places, and the north is one big ruin right now.”

(https://i.imgur.com/N43LRFr.jpg)

“Not just the north,” said Giovacchino. “Pavona’s no better! All Boulderguts left us is the city and the southern side of the river. Astiano and Trantio are ruined too. Every realm hereabouts is as sickly and broken as the north.”

“Then praise the gods that our brave young lord is helping to quash the threat of ratmen before they grow too powerful.”

As the corporal spoke, he gestured to the street, for Lord Silvano himself, clad in brightly silvered armour and sporting a tall panache-crest of blue and white, his lance lowered as if to indicate his intention to advance, rode into view.

(https://i.imgur.com/8to9Ul1.jpg)

By the young lord’s side rode his knghtly standard bearer, and behind him rode the city’s young nobility, their shields decorated with Morr’s fleshless head, crowned as king of the gods.

“If you have the answer to everything, Aldus, then tell me this: Why didn’t the duke send Visconte Carjaval with the army instead of his only son and heir?”

“Oh, that was the plan. The Visconte had orders to that effect. But then the orders changed. You didn’t attend the temple this morning, did you?”

“My head still hurt from last night. Why? D’you think my soul’s in need of cleansing?”

“Ha! That and the rest of you!”

Giovacchino sniffed at his armpit, spilling some of the ale as he did so, then cursing.

“What about the temple?” he demanded. “Did you receive divine enlightenment? That’d explain all your answers.”

(https://i.imgur.com/iPzyGqi.jpg)

“The priest prayed for Lord Silvano’s success, then told us how the duke knew his son possessed a compassionate heart and a desire to serve the lawful gods, Morr Supreme above all, and that he yearned to defend the innocent, weak, the young and old, from all further upsets. Apparently, the duke even said his son was the better man than he, for where he had always taken rightful anger to bloody conclusion, his son was willing to temper his reactions with an urge to understand and forgive.”

(https://i.imgur.com/Ui6U16K.jpg)

Giovacchino frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the sort of thing the duke would say.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what the priest told us. And more than that, he said the duke had vowed to live ‘quiete and pacifice’ until his son’s safe return from victory.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” said Giovacchino sarcastically. “It’s like poetry, ain’t it?” Then, more seriously, he asked. “Doesn’t sound like the duke either. Tell me though, is it true? Will the fighting end?”

Aldus shrugged. “I suppose if the Verezzan brigands stop what they’re doing, and everyone else leaves us alone for a while, then why not? Besides, the answer’s right in front of you. The army’s marching off. Say farewell to the young lord and our army.”

“Ha!” laughed Giovacchino. “And say hello to some peace and quiet.”

(https://i.imgur.com/myTfoRC.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 11, 2021, 08:46:20 AM
I am still working the campaign 'at both ends", so to speak!

Part 10 of Tilea's Troubles is done, in which Prince Girenzo of Trantio plots against his rival, Duke Guidobaldo of Pavona.

https://youtu.be/ns-_0mULANY

(https://i.imgur.com/3MlRCE2.jpg)

I am, right now, working on scenery and figures (well, bits of figures - fiddly indeed!) for the next new story. Set in a marsh!

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 17, 2021, 06:13:30 PM
Part 11 of the video account of my campaign is complete. It is a battle story/report, in which victory was determined by whether or not the Duchess Maria could escape across the table! 

https://youtu.be/HZQiSoXFW-o

(https://i.imgur.com/sSLR0Xv.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 20, 2021, 09:53:56 PM
Now back to the other end of the campaign, the (ongoing) present day ...

...
This to Reginaldo Scalise, Sindaco of the city of Portomaggiore, from Chimento Gagliardi, Chief Clerk to Lord Alessio Falconi.

My Lord Alessio has commanded me to inform you of the allied army’s current circumstances and condition. He wishes me to deliver a comprehensive account, for as his deputy in his beloved city, you must better understand the army’s requirements, the urgencies arising from our situation and the necessities of the daunting struggle before us. Furthermore, there is a task you must complete without delay. 

We had rendezvoused with a brigade of the army of the VMC at Ebino, led by the Myrmiddian priestess Luccia La Fanciulla.

(https://i.imgur.com/pmuIm1P.jpg)

It was a force considerably weaker than that which was expected, and most disappointingly, lacking in guns, yet Lord Alessio was nevertheless undeterred. He ordered the entire allied army, including the Reman brigade under Captain Soldatovya’s command, consisting of mercenary dwarfs, crossbowmen and Reman bravi, to march along the dread road leading west towards Miragliano.

(https://i.imgur.com/163HQZF.jpg)

Our scouts reported that the watchtower of Soncino had been abandoned, which the army council took to mean that the enemy was aware of our approach and most likely drawing in its foul servants to concentrate his strength.

(https://i.imgur.com/4eNe70a.jpg)

The army marched boldly to the watchtower’s vicinity and set about making an orderly and defensible camp.

As this work was accomplished, our scouts travelled further abroad to learn the villages of Leno were as quiet and empty as Soncino, having also been abandoned by the foe. The city of Miragliano itself, however, swarmed with the vampires’ servants, and its ancient, grey-stone walls hosted a force of rotting-but-walking corpses.

(https://i.imgur.com/f4l2SNj.jpg)

What most concerned the army council was the news that the putrid waters of the Blighted Marshes had been allowed to overspill their artificial bounds to claim the land around the city walls and, most likely, a good deal of the city within.

(https://i.imgur.com/LMDQE3r.jpg)

For several many years the dykes built to protect the city from the vast expanse of wetland to its immediate west have been left untended, so that now the once noble city seems to be sliding inexorably into the filthy waters. Even the road leading to the city has sunk beneath the mire, and the moat has merged with the wide expanse of stinking swamp stretching out for almost a mile in places, riddled with bloated corpses and bustling with clouds of filthy, fat flies. Miragliano is become, as indeed most of those in the army council had ominously anticipated, like a behemoth’s noisome corpse, washed up on the shore of a murky, accursed lake, infested with a host of maggots.

(https://i.imgur.com/sy5Gt7C.jpg)

Lord Alessio spoke the plain truth when he said all this was only to be expected of a realm wracked by necromantic magics for so long. He ordered the army to march to the closest dry land to the city, there to build a strongly defensible camp …

(https://i.imgur.com/J3RzXjr.jpg)

… and dispatched the scouts with orders to patrol orbitally about the camp to ensure nothing could approach unnoticed. The siege-master Guccio was instructed to begin work on siege towers and a ram able to approach the city walls. Meanwhile, a force drawn from both our army and that of the VMC should venture into the marshes there to clear out and burn the corpses, so that none remained to be re-animated by the foe in the oncoming assault.

(https://i.imgur.com/MpwkdIB.jpg)

Captain Guccio willingly took on his task and began pressing the men needed to better speed the work, from all three allied forces. Having questioned the scouts closely, he learned that the swamp may be crossable by foot soldiers, but only with great difficulty, thus it is he intends to mount the two towers and ram upon large rafts, which can then be poled, paddled or pushed to the walls, whichever proves feasible.

(https://i.imgur.com/LGPaHpb.jpg)

While Guggio’s men laboured to fell the necessary timber, much of the rest of the army set about not dissimilar work, building the camp on a large, relatively flat hill, about two miles from the city. Guards have been set in watches, ordered to maintain strict vigilance both day and night, with execution promised for any found to be derelict in this duty in any way whatsoever.

Having been here almost a week now, it has become evident that the enemy is in no rush to sally forth to give battle but seem content instead to lurk behind the city walls and the enveloping marsh. Whenever the wind, even but a breeze, blows from the direction of the city, the stench it carries is almost overwhelming, even for soldiers inured to the noisome airs of Ebino. Every day, soldiers bring the freshest water they can find to the camp, yet there is always corruption lurking in the taste of it, eliciting many a complaint. Our supplies of ale and wine are low, for we are now at such a great distance from the living realms, and there is a dearth of foraging opportunities within reach. Worse still, a considerable proportion of the supplies we brought with us - salted flesh-meat, cured fish, even the grain – has prematurely rotted. Perhaps inevitably, although still surprising considering how little time we have been here, a number of men have contracted a camp fever and their misery rings throughout the camp as they moan and thrash delirious upon their pallets!

The scouts have, so far, consistently reported that there is nothing out there. The land around us is truly dead. They know little concerning the marshes as it would be deadly for their horses to attempt to pass through such, so for several days we knew nothing concerning the areas closest the city and out to the south and west, where the marsh has overwhelmed the land. Until, that is, the clearing party returned from their attempted labours.

The VMC’s commander, Luccia La Fanciulla, acceded to Lord Alessio’s request to employ some of her troops for the cleansing of the marshland approaches. She ordered her mercenary ogres, under the command of a Captain Ogbut, as well as the wizard Serafina Rosa to join with the crossbowmen from both Remas and Portomaggiore, the latter commanded by Captain Lupo.

(https://i.imgur.com/5hChqNL.jpg)

This force returned, however, after two days, reporting that they were entirely unable to complete their task, claiming that to do so was impossible, for not only did the marshes contain the dead, but hide the undead too. Concealed beneath the stagnant waters and quicksands, bloated and slimy zombies would suddenly reach up to clutch with a deathly grip at the legs of anyone attempting to pass through.

(https://i.imgur.com/z8BWXBf.jpg)

Several crossbowmen perished, dragged to their doom by an enemy that the others often could not even see, never mind kill. They had tried, shooting into the waters whenever they espied ripples, or the sudden appearance of a clutching, black-fingernailed hand, but learned quickly this was simply a waste of quarrels.

(https://i.imgur.com/n2zwdLc.jpg)

One of Ogbut’s ogres also perished …

(https://i.imgur.com/QI75e9y.jpg)

… tripping in the undergrowth as he tried to reach a skeletal corpse, and so tumbled into quicksand …

(https://i.imgur.com/xZCUeTR.jpg)

… there to be grabbed and pulled down, head-first, to join with the undead below.

(https://i.imgur.com/ddSo6bZ.jpg)

Half a dozen crossbowmen have apparently been frightened out of their wits, and to add to those who perished, half as many again have since succumbed to the sickness assailing the camp.

Before they left off their grisly, impossible labours, this same party discovered that the city’s moat has become an impassable stretch of noisome water, which merges with the marshland reaching out, passable but, as already revealed, dangerous, some way from the moat. The road to the city, despite becoming submerged, is wadable, like the swamp, and indeed possibly passable all the way to the gate. In answer to Lord Alessio’s query, the wizard Hakim agreed that his colossus could most likely use the road, very much doubting that any bloated zombies lurking beneath the waters could either slow or hurt it, but he immediately warned that there would be the risk of the brass, mechanically-magic giant straying from the road and succumbing to the marsh, becoming stuck or perhaps even sinking below the surface completely.

The siege master attempted to reassure the Lord General by reporting that he and his men were making good progress on the rafts, towers and ram, which should much more safely allow soldiers to reach the gate and walls, first by dragging and pushing, then by use of barge poles or oars, so that even the moat would prove no obstacle.

(https://i.imgur.com/nhQYVVO.jpg)

Lord Alessio accepted that Guccio’s ingenious moat bridges had had great success at Ebino, but stated that here there were many more difficulties to overcome, and that even should the rafts reach the gate and walls, it was unlikely that sufficient soldiers could be carried thereby to successfully overcome the defences. The rest, were they to follow by wading behind, might succumb to a multitude of dangers.

(https://i.imgur.com/60hHbOA.jpg)

This is why Lord Alessio ordered that I write to you and to several other rulers and governors of the realms between here and Remas. He is thinking of a way in which our forces might be better enabled to reach the city. What he has I mind will require a great workforce, consisting of expendable labourers and not the soldiers needed for the assault.

You are commanded to empty the gaols and prisons directly of all able-bodied prisoners, including debtors and those awaiting either trial or execution, and to gather all sturdy vagrants and beggars (whether imprisoned or not), no less than 1,000 in number, and send them all here to us, under sufficient guard to ensure that none can abscond, by whatever means and route is the quickest. You shall inform them that they are to be employed upon essential and righteous work, and furthermore, that should they survive this reparative labour, they will be pardoned of all past misdemeanours, felonies, debts and wrongdoings of any kind. And if insufficient numbers are thus obtained, then you are also to press into service all common youths unengaged in either apprenticeship or gainful employment that they too might be dispatched to us forthwith, to serve as guastatori sappers, for which service they will be suitably rewarded at the completion of this campaign.

Make haste and obey these orders in full, for the fate of Tilea lies in the successful conclusion of this war against the vampires.  They cannot be allowed to recover their strength, nor even lick their wounds, but must be exterminated completely as soon as possible.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 02, 2021, 10:23:33 PM
And now back to the other end of the campaign! A new video. This one took longer to put together. I can't wait 'til I get to the stories which don't need all the pictures re-doing!

Part 12:  https://youtu.be/r2bzYe_zUCg

(https://i.imgur.com/dkDbt5p.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/t59b9pW.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 11, 2021, 01:14:34 PM
My campaign video part 13 is now completed. 'The Little Waagh', a battle report involving a wholly goblin force taking on professional and modern Marienburg soldiers. You might already see where this is going!

https://youtu.be/pkn6dlVycd4

Booglebor says: "Watch it. It's fun!"
(https://i.imgur.com/SimqeQW.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on June 12, 2021, 06:04:55 PM
Wonder when HBO is going to buy the rights to this new fantasy epic ;)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 21, 2021, 08:55:08 PM
S.O.F. - If they did, then I doubt they would use my Yorkshire accented voice, just like Darth Vader's Devonshire accent did not pass muster!!!!!

Part 14 of the video account of Tilea's troubles is up! See it at ...

https://youtu.be/bQdvhZT5S7Q

(https://i.imgur.com/hCkgZ6E.jpg)

I am now going back (for a while) to the campaign's 'present day' - I have stories to write, games to arrange, figures to paint, not necessarily in that order.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on June 22, 2021, 02:02:57 AM
S.O.F. - If they did, then I doubt they would use my Yorkshire accented voice, just like Darth Vader's Devonshire accent did not pass muster!!!!!



Here I thought Yorkshire accents were the key in selling the protagonist of the last HBO fantasy epic?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 27, 2021, 09:41:02 PM
I forgot that, SOF!

Now, back to the active 'present day' of the campaign ...

Annihilation
South of Campogrotta, Summer 2404

First out had been the scouts, scurrying off in all directions to ascertain if it was safe for the rest of the army to emerge. They learned that the land immediately south of the river was only partially forested, with curving valleys through grassy sloped hills in between the scattered copses and larger woods. The forest proper began to the south, a little way off, which was where, they hoped, any sylvan elves would stay. Not that they were really scouting for elven forces, but rather to ensure the Campogrottan manthings were not present on this side of the river in any strength. They had also been ordered to slaughter any and all patrols they encountered, the ensure that word of the army’s presence did not pass back to Campogrotta too soon.

When enough scouts had returned to report no sightings – apart from a band of soldiers at the bridge leading to the city, several miles off, Seer-Lord Urlak Ashoscrochor himself, with some chieftains, clawleaders and his bodyguard regiment, had been the first of the army proper to leave the tunnel mouth. The scouts had already picked a route for the army, and what scouts had not returned were concealed at intervals along it, the better to spot any enemy approach and to carry the news back before an enemy got too close to the army.

Normally, when above ground, skaven would be expected to take the most concealed route, which would mean favouring the wooded stretches, but this was not to be the case on this occasion. Urlak had observed the annihilation bombard’s progress and knew that not only was its passage best facilitated by even ground and open spaces, but that it would likely prove catastrophically disastrous to move it through any other terrain. The engine’s attendants scurried ahead to remove rocks and fallen branches, fill holes and test the firmness of the ground, having become skilled in the art. But it would be impossible for them to clear away the tangled mass of undergrowth in the woods, never mind clearing roots and branches, in anything like sufficient time to allow the bombard’s continuous progress. It could never be allowed to stop for more than a few moments at a time, otherwise everything around it, even its protectively-gowned attendants, would wither and die. Nor could it be allowed to topple or crash, or even just jolt too hard, for then the grenado carried within might prematurely detonate. And so, despite all usual practice and the strong desire to lurk in the shadows, the bombard had to travel in the open, with the army moving necessarily ahead of it (for nothing could survive very long in its wake). That said, their route would at least favour the valley bottoms, with the hills providing at least some cover from prying eyes.   



At Urlak’s request, the scouts led him to a hillside from which he would be able to watch the army embark upon the short journey. He had some decisions to make and had it in his head that it would be easier to make them if he could have a good look at the component parts of the large force at his disposal.

First to heave into view were the warriors of Clan Fiddlash’s ‘Red Jullgak’ Regiment. Armed with barbed spears and bearing round, iron-rimmed shields, they marched in good order, the sound of their hissing and snarling mingled with the clattering of their armour and gear, both louder than the noise their footfalls made upon the soft ground.

(https://i.imgur.com/qRzSXUT.jpg)

These warriors had already marched through the underpass far to the south of here, only to return without joining in battle, too late to join in the assault on Ravola. Unbloodied as they were, nevertheless, they seemed keen for a fight, and it was hard to imagine that any foe could withstand the charge of such a swarm of warriors.

(https://i.imgur.com/IXwaHOL.jpg)

Urlak’s chief scout was pointing at the regiment’s rear.

“Great and most noble lord,” hissed the scout, “See, see? How they push and shove? How even those at the back strain and strive to march on. They are eager-keen for the battle-fight, yes?”

(https://i.imgur.com/54CKFtr.jpg)

And well they might be, thought Urlak. Fiddlash’s warriors had missed the looting of Ravola, instead marching almost non-stop in the underpass for many a week (on his orders). He had taken measures to ensure that few in his army knew just how dangerous the annihilation bombard was – especially to their own army, so the warriors must be assuming they would be ordered into battle soon. Their pent-up desire to fight could well be reaching fever-pitch. Or … perhaps the bombard’s potentially disastrous deadliness was no secret at all, and those at the regiment’s rear were pushing due to a desire to keep as far as possible from it. Everyone knew it poisoned the ground wherever it passed, but he had been hoping the otherwise ignorant masses had yet to realise just how much damage it would do if it were to miscarry in some way.

(https://i.imgur.com/tcb3Mr1.jpg)

Urlak watched the warriors intently, for he had to decide which parts of his army to send ahead with the annihilation bombard. When it fired, hopefully bringing about the death of every single creature in Campogrotta, it had to be close enough to lob the grenade into the city. It would need guards to ensure it attained the required proximity, and not an insubstantial number, otherwise it could fail simply because an enemy patrol intercepted it.

He did not intend, however, to have his entire force, or even the greater part of it, close to the weapon when it fired, for if anything went wrong, he could lose quite literally everything. He had lived long enough to know that when it came to such experimental novelties, they should never be relied upon. Even the army’s tried and tested engines, used for many a century, were prone to catastrophic malfunctions, and indeed there was barely a warpstone weapon of any size, even as small as the jezzails, that could be fully trusted, such was the chaotic nature of the magically powerful, supralunary stone. Furthermore, the instability of the stone waxed in direct proportion to its potency. From what he had been told of the bombard, the grenado housed within its massive barrel contained possibly the most substantial and dense concentrations of powdered warpstone ever fashioned. If it was to misfire, then every living thing within a mile (or more) would likely become a fatality – which is exactly what it was supposed to do when it worked successfully, too, but at a location more conducive to harming the enemy.

(https://i.imgur.com/A3haH8r.jpg)

While he had been pondering, the plague monks had passed, and then the lesser war machines had trundled by – some propelled by their own engines, others hauled by slaves. Bundles of jezzails and pavaises were strapped to several of them, a practise permitted by the engineers provided the jezzailers assisted, as required, to facilitate the engines’ passage. Such activity was rare enough that that jezzailers were happy to oblige in return for not having to lug their heavy weapons and shields on the march. Urlak knew some of the army’s lighter troops, such as the globadiers and giant rat swarms, were not moving in the line of march, but travelling on a parallel course, like outriders might in a manthings’ army, as a further precautionary measure against ambush.

By the time the slaves began to pass, he knew the bombard would be close. His commanders had planned the army’s order of march according to the importance of its regiments. The most valuable, the clan warriors, were at in the vanguard, whilst towards the rear, where the bombard was, were the more expendable regiments, including the slaves. This way, if the bombard were to be toppled by holes in the ground, strike a fallen tree, be struck itself by a tumbling boulder, or the ever-broiling grenade within it were simply to grow catastrophically hot, any of which could catalyse its premature explosion, then it would be the slaves who suffered most from the ensuing blast.

Even if the bombard suffered no fault, then mere proximity to its peculiarly poisonous ammunition was enough to sap the life from all forms of flora and fauna, and any unprotected skaven. It was therefore considered best, by all who had a say in the matter, that the slaves ought to be the ones to suffer the consequences of its deadly caress rather than anyone other part of the army. Of course, the protectively clothed warriors, the bombard’s attendants and guards, had to be close to it, but then they breathed filtered air and shielded their eyes with thick, tinted lenses.

Clan Fiddlash boasted a great many slaves, most of which were mustered as a fighting force. They passed by in ranks and files, escorted by whip wielding overseers to encourage the steadiness of their pace and the maintenance of their dressing.

(https://i.imgur.com/Xdwezol.jpg)

It now occurred to Urlak that the overseers were unprotected, a notion that had not previously crossed his mind. He reassured himself with the thought that should the slaves’ masters succumb to the bombard’s poisonous proximity, then the slaves would surely be suffering exactly similarly, and thus unable to take advantage of their guards’ incapacity.

(https://i.imgur.com/oBDtPbz.jpg)

Urlak was pleased to see that none appeared to be in any way affected by the poison. He knew how useful such a horde of slaves could prove, and he would much rather they died serving his purpose in battle than perished simply moving from one place to another. They were not armed with spears, only short swords, giving the advantage to their whip-armed overseers. Any who had shown a hint of intransigence were chained, which would make their journey considerably more difficult. He noticed few were so chained, which boded well regarding their usefulness in battle. Of course, they did not possess shields, for that would make the whips a much less effective encouragement.

(https://i.imgur.com/Xdwezol.jpg)

Studying the slaves, he pondered. Could they be trusted to form part of the bombard’s escort when it advanced to do its cruel work upon the city? Certainly, any force attempting to reach the war engine would struggle to make headway through such a mass of blade-wielding desperadoes.

(https://i.imgur.com/zy6Xlz0.jpg)

But no - he had other tasks in mind for them. Should the bombard be successful in launching its deadly burden, the slaves would be the perfect choice to enter the city afterwards and ensure nothing had survived, as well as to fetch from it whatever treasures and goods could be salvaged. The warpstone poison harmed only living things, not precious metals and the like, and so there could well be good plunder to be had. Better to employ his more dispensable soldiers for such a task.

His musings were disturbed by the chief scout hissing, “Slave scum-filth!”

(https://i.imgur.com/m2E2eOc.jpg)

Urlak glanced at the scout.

“Forgive-forget, please-please, great lord. My words were unnecessary-unedifying.”

Urlak was not really listening and instead returned his attention to the slaves. They were led by what looked like a standard, and in a sense it was, but not one to show allegiance or to symbolize their honour or bravery, but rather solely to guide them – to indicate the direction and speed of their march and where exactly to form up whenever the command was given. Failure to do either resulted in the usual punishment.

(https://i.imgur.com/7ttHtFN.jpg)

On the hill behind Urlak were his best soldiers, his bodyguard regiment, the Yellow Hoods, who accompanied him at all times.

(https://i.imgur.com/otZknO3.jpg)

This regiment’s officers provided a useful source of intelligence for him, especially regarding the mood and disposition of the army. Despite the fact they almost always disagreed over some details, the very nature of their disagreement could itself assist Urlak in ascertaining the truth.

(https://i.imgur.com/nZ31Km8.jpg)

His bodyguard had fought very well at Ravola, never once leaving his side even when suffering heavy casualties from the enemy’s arrows and hurled rocks. He now wondered whether, as it had so proven its obedient loyalty, this was the regiment he should send ahead with the bombard?

(https://i.imgur.com/JI9QXNP.jpg)

Of all the regiments he commanded, this was the one he could trust most to follow the letter of his commands, and not to allow fear or caution to dilute their obedience. Yet, if he were to order them upon that task, they would not then be under his eyes, and who knew what weaknesses might manifest when they were bereft of his stern gaze? More importantly, if he did send them away, he himself would have no bodyguard, and that would not do at all.

(https://i.imgur.com/YKuT4LR.jpg)

Put simply, he did not trust either Clan Fiddlash or Clan Skravell anywhere near enough to risk being separated from his guards.

He turned to the nearest Yellow Hood clawleader …

(https://i.imgur.com/px7Bsp8.jpg)

… and asked,

“Where is the bombard? It ought and should be here now. Is it delayed? Is it stalled? What and why?”

“Noble leader, it comes. I feel and smell it, in the ground and on the wind-breeze.”

Moments later Urlak sensed it too. The clawleader had sharp senses, better than his own. Urlak would remember this, for it could prove useful in future.

“There, there, most high commander,” said the chief scout, pointing down the valley.

(https://i.imgur.com/DnnpriU.jpg)

Before long the Clan Skryre warriors of the bombard’s guard regiment were below, the swish of their waxed linen and leather robes adding an extra sheen to the rattling sound of their passage. The bombard rolled behind, pushed by the mechanical wheel in which a new driver had to be placed almost every week, despite the several protective layers he wore!

(https://i.imgur.com/QhS76Bl.jpg)

Urlak could see the most senior ranking Skryre commander upon the guard regiment’s other flank, a warlock-engineer named Golchramik. He wore a mask about his upper face, and his eyes were covered by glass, but, unlike all the others, he had no muzzle-mask.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZxJxzBP.jpg)

This intrigued Urlak. Was the engineer just careful, always staying ahead of the bombard? Or was he impervious to its poisonous aura, perhaps due to long exposure to similar warpstone effects? If the latter, then it did not bode well for the bombard’s effectiveness, for if this fellow could develop sufficient immunity to forego the wearing of a full mask, then could the grenado really be as deadly as Clan Skryre had promised? Perhaps the engineer was employing some other trick? It was not inconceivable that the substantial tank upon his back was plumbed into his throat or lungs, or that he employed subtle magics to counteract the poison. Urlak knew he was guessing, so decided not to consider the issue further. It mattered not.

(https://i.imgur.com/R9Pp8Ih.jpg)

The rest of those close to the bombard were much more comprehensively covered. Every warrior in the guard regiment wore a full mask, from the snout of which stretched a flexible, filter tube leading to an arrangement of tanks on their backs. There were several different kinds of mask, and an equally varied selection of tanks. Urlak wondered whether, after the engine’s firing, the proportioning of the survivors would reveal which combination was the most effective?

(https://i.imgur.com/PviuWNv.jpg)

The warriors’ visibility must be restricted, he thought, for they saw the world through bulbous lenses of smoked glass fixed tightly in their leather masks. Whether this part-blindness would prove a perilous impediment was debatable, for if they were fighting near the bombard, whoever they faced would no doubt be seriously suffering (as did any unprotected creature) from its poisonous aura, which would surely more than even the odds. It seemed to Urlak that a more likely source of trouble was the proximity of their bared blades to the long filter tubes, especially when employed in the swish-swash of frenzied combat.

(https://i.imgur.com/O0v7GIA.jpg)

Squinting, he wondered whether this was the reason the tubes were so thick? It looked like the Skryre warriors had bound coarse cloth about them, perhaps hoping that a blade would cut only as deep as the binding and not all the way through to the tube within? Or perhaps, and this seemed more likely, the cloths were intended to seal (if only partially) any gashes and allow sufficient continued breathing until the tube could be properly patched?

(https://i.imgur.com/0HyXZLe.jpg)

Again, however, what did any of this matter? Right now, he needed to think like a warlord and not a tinkering engineer. 

(https://i.imgur.com/F3t37B3.jpg)

The obvious choices regarding to send ahead with the bombard where those warriors garbed in protective gear. Of course, the bombard’s attendants and crew must go, and its guard regiment should obviously accompany it, for they were the only substantial body of troops who could fight in close proximity to it without suffering.

(https://i.imgur.com/dAFk4r9.jpg)

But who and what else to send? The globadiers were similarly protected, and so they would be a sensible choice. As for the rest, he might send those he considered expendable, and if not the slaves, as he had already considered, then perhaps the Plague Monks, their numbers having been sorely diminished by the assault on Ravola? What was left of them could prove useful instead of simply perishing in amongst the multiple melees of a large battle?

Or should he send those that might prove useful to the bombard’s efficiency, such as the warlock engineers? They could assist in its movement and firing should its crew and assistants become casualties. And if he were to send the engineers, then why not send one or more of his army’s lesser engines of war? It could be a cunning ploy to order several machines ahead, for then the bombard would be less conspicuous, hidden ‘like among like’, and whatever enemies were encountered might be distracted by the other engines, no less massive than the bombard and indeed some of them more so. The enemy might thus attack entirely the wrong machines and waste what little time they had stop the bombard. 

(https://i.imgur.com/wUxJJKU.jpg)

The bombard itself was chugging by below, three attendants on ether side of it. He chuckled for it looked almost comical, like a massive clockwork toy. Clatter-clatter, clunk-clunk it went. But then he saw how the grass behind it visibly withered then crumbled into powder moments after its passage, and the sight pushed all ideas that it was a toy from his mind.

(https://i.imgur.com/9ny0F5a.jpg)

Could it really destroy a city, and the army within? If so, how best to ensure it got close enough to do so?

He had until the evening to decide.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 29, 2021, 09:36:36 PM
And now back to several years before in this yo yo account of the campaign. Part 15 of the video record ...

https://youtu.be/kVzC91tV2ug

(https://i.imgur.com/gTJweTT.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 07, 2021, 09:08:37 AM
Here is Tilea's Troubles Part 16 - a story concerning the Viadazzan Crusade's birth pangs, as the Duchess Maria unexpectedly arrives at the city.

See the video at https://youtu.be/2J0VUSI2tag

(https://i.imgur.com/u5H884J.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 07, 2021, 09:18:00 AM
I love that picture! :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 12, 2021, 02:36:05 PM
It's a wierd one, ain't it GP?

Part 17 of Tilea's Troubles is up.

The common people of Viadaza, with a smattering of priests and minor nobility, prepare for war against the vampire duke!

See -  https://youtu.be/f6_gQ3REQBs

(https://i.imgur.com/cKNRUuc.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/I4cMi7h.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 20, 2021, 05:20:47 PM
Tilea's Troubles Part 18 is completed!

This is the second prologue to a greenskin versus greenskin battle report. The Mighty Khurnag accuses goblin boss Gurmliss of lying to hide his cowardice!

See it here https://youtu.be/xhsfgxtQmHs

(https://i.imgur.com/iMcrWS7.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on July 22, 2021, 08:36:28 PM
I am now plowing through the YouTube videos and I'm totally loving this series. I'm sorry that I didn't know about these sooner. These are amazing. Keep up the great work. I'm currently only part 7 and I'll quickly catch up, I'm sure.  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 22, 2021, 11:16:08 PM
Thanks for saying Perambulator. I always have doubts regarding my 'stuff', but comments like yours re-fill my confidence levels.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 23, 2021, 07:17:59 PM
Here is something from the present day of the campaign ...

...

Twice, Thrice and More Shall I Kill-Slaughter, and Never Look Upon Thy Face

A Battle Report, Part 1

Just south of the city of Campogrotta

(https://i.imgur.com/6qLqHrt.jpg)
(The Table)

The first of the ratto uomo to arrive within sight of the river were the gunners of one of the jezzail companies. They hefted their burdensome barrels and pavaises to the top of a little hill from where they could see the bridge, the toll keeper’s cottage and the body of mercenary crossbowmen guarding the place.

(https://i.imgur.com/AHQ8OQu.jpg)

The enemy had obviously been forewarned of their approach, as they were formed up in an orderly manner, and sheltered behind their own pavaises, some of which were painted with their company’s emblem, also visible on the little ensign fluttering in the breeze above them.

(https://i.imgur.com/nfJpteU.jpg)

Lord Urlak had sent the jezzails with exactly such a target in mind. His orders were clear – they were to kill any enemies who might threaten the annihilation bombard with missiles, and do so as quickly as possible. Of all the forces available to him, Lord Urlak must have thought them best able to do so due to the range of their long pieces and the potency of their warpstone bullets. Annoyingly, however, the two companies of jezzails had been ordered to advance separately, to cover a wider area. This first company, five in number, saw immediately that the enemy crossbowmen were numerous enough that it would take considerable time to drive them off, time in which they could possibly shoot their own weapons at the engine.

Their concerns were not that different from those of the other jezzailers, far to the right of them, who had similarly crested a hill. From there they descried a body of horsemen.

(https://i.imgur.com/P80bOrp.jpg)

The riders were one of the several companies of light horse that had been continuously circumnavigating the city of Campogrotta, presumably because the enemy commander suspected an attack was imminent. Of practical necessity, the horsemen carried lighter crossbows than their foot counterparts, but their mobility meant they could move quicker and closer to bring them to bear. So it was that the leader of the second company of jezzailers was also cursing the decision to divide the two.

(https://i.imgur.com/i4lfyFB.jpg)

Nevertheless, knowing what else was approaching to guard the engine, the jezzailers had to admit that the situation was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. They faced only thirty or so light troops, nothing like an army. Campogrotta possessed considerable forces, of both men and dwarfs, and if even half its strength was brought to bear here, the annihilation bombard could not possibly get close enough to launch its deadly burden.

Perhaps Lord Urlak’s plan to draw the enemy’s attention northwards to Buldio had worked? Despite the recent death of the underworld emissary he had lodged in Campogrotta, the remaining ratto uomo’s spies and assassins (who had assisted the emissary) still had considerable influence on the criminal fraternities of Campogrotta, most importantly debts they could call in to command the menthings to commit arson and stir up riots in Buldio. Once the town was burning, then whether the enemy mistakenly believed Urlak’s assault had begun there or recognised the truth that violent unrest and fiery rebellion had broken out mattered not, as either way they would surely be distracted, and forced to take their eyes off the southern approach. Considering Lord Urlak’s army was last known to have captured Ravola in the north, then it was doubtful that many eyes were looking south in the first place.

Below the first company of jezzailers the horde of slaves now marched towards the bridge.

(https://i.imgur.com/OrA2qPP.jpg)

Just like the rest of the army, the slaves had marched ahead of the engine throughout the long journey here. If the engine had moved in the vanguard through the underpass, then its poisonous passage in such an enclosed space would so have corrupted the tunnel that it was unlikely even one warrior would have emerged. Here, however, even above ground, there was more to the slaves’ advance positioning – their sheer weight of numbers was expected to block and hold off any enemy attempting to reach the engine.

(https://i.imgur.com/RQexF3e.jpg)

Lord Urlak had given considerable thought to the matter of who exactly to send ahead with the engine. No-one had been surprised when he included the slaves in the escort. This was exactly the sort of task such despised, disposable and desperate troops were best suited for. As they approached the river the chains had been removed from their wrist shackles and blades had been distributed liberally amongst them. They were told the enemy was weak and easy to kill, unworthy of the attention of the rest of the army, and that once defeated they would be freely permitted to feast on the enemies’ flesh as a reward. The half-starved slaves now moved with an alacrity never before witnessed, chattering and salivating in equal measure, and in so large a mob that it was difficult to imagine anything could get through them.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZEG0bTj.jpg)

On the right of the line, although not as far out as the second jezzail company, the remnant of the once large plague monk regiment advanced between two clumps of trees, the sun behind them. Despite having been badly mauled when taking the walls at Ravola, rather than perturbing them, the experience seemed only to make them more keen for battle.

(https://i.imgur.com/xj48GUf.jpg)

The bells on their standard and born by their musician clanged, interspersed with cymbal crashes as and when the musician thought fit. Lord Urlak had apparently decided that at less than half their original strength they were no longer particularly useful to his main army, and so ordered them to join the dangerously unstable engine’s escort. If they perished, he had been heard to say, then it would be like finishing off an already wounded beast of burden and so no great loss. He simply intended to get some use out of them before they died.

At the centre of the ragged line trundled the annihilation bombard, accompanied as ever by half a dozen mask wearing attendants, scuttling busily around it to ensure its smooth progress.

(https://i.imgur.com/hklOzqB.jpg)

They were a little less active now, for they were approaching the moment it would finally fire, as well as drawing close to the enemy. Clutching bared blades, they understood that on this last stretch of their journey, defending their ward from attackers should be their priority. And then, when the engine reached the river side – which the engineers had deemed was just close enough to the city to launch the grenado - they would be needed to assist in its firing. The city killing bomb it contained was as unstable as it had ever been, for with every broiling moment that passed it only ever became more so. Indeed, in the dark tunnel and even last night under the light of the moon, the attendants noticed the huge iron barrel enclosing the grenado had begun glow with the etheric heat of its burden. The engine itself looked as new as the day it was built, however, for such was the poison and heat it gave off that neither mould nor rust were able to find a foothold. For a week now the driver, the last of a succession of such, had not left the seat at the heart of the wheel that pushed the bombard. Not only was there no-one left to replace him, or just work a shift, but most of his bones had become almost wholly fused in place. Besides, he had long since realised he was effectively already dead – he just hadn’t quite crossed the seam into the afterlife.

(https://i.imgur.com/OAXmuTB.jpg)

The bright light of the sun seemed to spur the engine on. One of the front-most attendants bore a sharp-edged shovel, which as well as being necessary to smooth the ground, would now, if required, be utilised as a weapon; while the other bore a staff tipped with an ancient, once almost completely  sapped, warpstone shard, which in the mysteriously sympathetic manner of magical attraction, was able to draw off some of the stray energies emanating from the engine so that the attendants might survive that little bit longer. And it had apparently worked, for it now glowed brightly like a shard of sky stone fallen fresh from the heavens, brimming with the arcane energy it had leeched over the last months. Its bearer was, in his own increasingly addled way, fascinated to see what it would do if employed as a weapon!

Inevitably, the engine’s guard regiment marched close by, every warrior garbed similarly to the attendants, though bristling with many more blades.

(https://i.imgur.com/tFmFzlX.jpg)

This was their moment, of course, and they had to be here. Thanks to their waxed robes and copper filtration tanks, they alone could march close to the engine without succumbing to its deadly aura  – without blood pouring from blinded eyes, without their bones fusing or their muscles withering to nought, without their lungs crumbling into dust or their hearts shrivelling into dry husks.

As they approached the river, their commander, the warlock engineer Golchramik, strode in the front rank, clutching his novel firework and bent under the weight of the massive copper contraption upon his back, part of which powered his experimental weapon while the rest fed cleansed air to his lungs.

(https://i.imgur.com/nZRKTWJ.jpg)

He glanced about him: at the engine, at the regiments in the line and at the enemy up ahead. This fight was to be the culmination of all that he had worked for, for many a month, so he wanted to get it right. It now dawned on him, despite the safety any skaven naturally felt when part of a mob, that he was not in the right spot.

(https://i.imgur.com/nUJh5oA.jpg)

He had to be able to move nimbly, to spot, target and launch his rocket at anything that threatened the engine, wherever they came from, whilst directing both the guard and the engine as changing  circumstances required. So, he made his way to the regiment’s flank, then stepped out alone. The huge mob of slaves and the deadly jezzails on the hill would surely prove sufficient to guard the engine’s left …

(https://i.imgur.com/vjDSQum.jpg)

… but here on the right, with woods up ahead where anything could be hidden in the trees, and a cottage which might also harbour some unseen foe, he would have to be ready himself to react quickly.

(https://i.imgur.com/8LdhiZN.jpg)

This was how the engine and its escort approached the river upon the southern outskirts of Campogrotta. If the annihilation bombard successfully reached the river’s edge and launched its burden without mishap, then the entire population of Campogrotta, as well as the army within, would be destroyed.

(https://i.imgur.com/RXpq8cs.jpg)

What a glorious way to defeat the foe!

Battle to follow.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 23, 2021, 07:23:55 PM
(BT, Too late to change it now but I should've straightened the annihilation bombard model. Just too caught up in it all to notice at the time!!!)


Appendix

This is for those among you who like this sort of thing. I can’t imagine there are many of you!

This was a ‘play-by-email’ battle (due to distances and pandemics!) Put very simply, the scenario was as follows:

The skaven player must get the annihilation mortar to the river’s edge to be in range of the city. If he achieved this then the engine could attempt to fire, which might actually kill just about everyone in the city.

In truth, the situation was much more complicated, as the annihilation mortar was a very unreliable contraption, and the grenade it was to fire entirely untested and unstable. (See the rules below.) Indeed, should it be damaged, destroyed or misfire, it was potentially deadly to everyone on the tabletop! This means that the skaven player, as described in the prologue story (link) had to choose the escort/guard force carefully – getting the balance between effectiveness and disposability just right!



The skaven had several 1000 points of forces in the tunnels (other forces were acting as garrisons), plus the annihilation mortar. Their scouts reported there were likely 3500+ pts of men and dwarfs in the city, being the Compagnia del Sole mercenary army and a brigade of Karak Borgo dwarfs, with plenty of guards posted and regular light-horse patrols. Also present in the city was the fire wizard Perette, commander of the last remnant of the Bretonnian ‘Brabanzon’ company.

The men and dwarfs were NPC factions, or at least, the dwarf king PC wasn’t present in the city and so couldn’t technically be involved. They knew a lot about the skaven assault on Ravola as Perette was there, and were also aware of the existence of some sort of new and incredibly poisonous contraption which arrived at Ravola after its capture. Despite not having seen it with their own eyes, the brigand ‘Arrabiatti’ riders had reported the dead and deadly ground left behind it wherever it travelled.

In order to make success more likely, Lord Urlak (well, the campaign player playing him) ordered a distraction involving arson, riot (etc) at the settlement of Buldio to the north of the city, in order to draw out as many of the enemy's forces as possible, so that they would have less available to send against the engine. Annoyingly, however, the emissary he had previously sent to create a secret, underworld faction of servants had recently died. Such work is inherently dangerous! Obviously, the emissary would have been the best by far at organising such distraction - not only was this area of expertise, but it was he who had fashioned the bonds, cemented the allegiances, and created a secret, petty ‘empire’ of criminal scum he could manipulate (see the story – link). Now only a spy and assassin remained operational within the city, both of whom excelled in other skills!

I would have given the emissary a 6+ (on 2D6) chance of getting a 'good' result at Buldio, but as it was the spy and assassin attempting to employ the 'network' the emissary had already built, I stipulated an 8+ (on 2D6) chance of getting a properly noticeable result. A poor result (7 or less) would mean perhaps one fire, or some bar brawling, etc, which would most likely only cause a small force to be sent to investigate, if even that. A good result, 8+, would achieve something more impressive - several fires spreading, joining, and some frantic activity in the form of panic, plundering and rioting, which could even appear like a skaven attack. This would mean the GM (me) determining what % of the available forces were sent to deal with the trouble &/or threat, with the exact choices of units being rolled for. Importantly, whoever and whatever went to Buldio would NOT be able to ‘support-move’ south onto the tabletop of the game.

Do you follow me so far?

Myself and the Skaven player had a great time hatching all this. Boy did we feel foolish near the end of the game when it dawned on both of is that there was a massive error of logic in Urlak’s thinking!

His aim was to destroy the enemy army. He intended to use Clan Skryre’s deadly invention to do so. Worried that the enemy might send out enough of a force to prevent the engine from approaching close enough, he orders the distraction.

Sounds great, eh? But can you spot the flaw?

It is this: Suppose everything works. The distraction draws a substantial, enemy force northwards out of the city, while the engine manages, despite the force sent southwards from the city to stop it, to shoot. The city is destroyed! Hurr …. Wait! How much of the enemy army is now in the city?

All this effort and it is possible the enemy army is still substantially intact!

Still, Lord Urlak’s player could console himself that if the engine failed spectacularly, then at least (at the cost of him losing whatever he sent with the engine) the enemy forces sent south would all most likely perish!



Further scenario details …

The skaven had to decide exactly what units would enter the field (i.e. table) with the mortar, and what unit(s) he wanted near enough to the field to have the option of a support move onto the table from his own edge. These latter units would be affected by a table-wide miscast blast result, but at a reduced effect as they are that bit further away - 1 T test per model instead of D3?

The mortar must cross the field to the river's edge (near the far side of the table) to be in range to shoot at the city. The river would be about 28 or 30" from the edge of the skaven deployment zone, and as the engine moves 2D6" a turn, i.e. an estimated 7" per turn, it would take (on average) 4 turns to get there.

The game, being neither a set battle (6 turns) or a siege (8 turns), but somehow in between, would last 7 turns. If the mortar was not in range by the end of turn 7, it could fire for a 50/50 chance of reaching the city, which after all the misfire possibilities, etc, would not leave it with much chance of success. Indeed, if it had not reached the river by the end of tit’s last move it would really have to fire, because by then it would have been clattering around faster than ever done before leaving the crew terrified not to fire the grenado for fear of it almost certainly blowing up in the barrel. Up until now, the engine had been ‘steady as she goes’ with attendants clearing a path. Not so careening around a tabletop!

The enemy was to have one randomly chosen light horse unit (possibly with a character) on the table. As one of three such units on regular patrols they would be the one that spotted the engine’s approach. They would also have whatever unit (plus character(s)?) were guarding the bridge, again randomly chosen from a list of the sort of units that might be assigned such a duty.

The enemy's other two light horse units would be able to attempt a support-move onto the table, on turn 2 with a 4+ roll, then by rolling 3+ on any subsequent turn. The GM to roll a D8 to determine where exactly they arrived: 1-4 via the bridge, 5-6 left-flank table edge, 7-8 right-flank table edge.

The rest of the men/dwarf army, whatever remains left in the after the GM has rolled for whatever goes north, can begin support moves onto the table from T2. Each turn it can allowed to support move one unit (with a 5+ chance of a character) on from its own table edge, being the far side of the river. The GM is to roll to determine which exact unit, using a list of what is in the city. This would represent whatever happened to be close enough!

(Note: If a player had been in charge of the men/dwarfs, I would have allowed them to choose the unit they wanted to support move, then roll to see if the unit did so. If it failed, they could choose another and try again, and so on until a unit arrived.)



The annihilation mortar

This is meant to be the current culmination of Clan Skryre’s warpstone weaponry. Not high fantasy, I don’t think, but very ‘low fantasy’, due to all the difficulties it presents, even to its users. Even just moving it – or more accurately, not moving it – is difficult due to its poisonous aura! And I has all innate unreliability and instability such an experimental skaven weapon should have.

It was a fun modelling project, has inspired three stories so far, and is a challenge even for the Skaven player to employ. It was meant to make the skaven a suitably challenging campaign threat as the Ogres are gone, the Undead are fading fast, and the Sartosan pirates are somewhat limited in the threat they present (certainly in terms of their likely longevity). Oh, and the skaven have been part of the campaign from the start, from before the start, sneaking about, manipulating, spying, etc. They were even mentioned in the second campaign story! (Unresolved as yet.) Also, it is a case of: “Have army, will get it into the campaign!”

...

First, we needed rules for the now well (story) established poisonous area around the engine.

The grenado has been brewing for some time. This is why the attendants and the engine’s guards wear lots of protective gear. Units coming close to the mortar should suffer from its now famous poisonous aura, presenting an interesting challenge in tabletop battles.  It leaves a trail of withered vegetation and dead animals wherever it passes!

It could be damaged (admittedly at great risk to everyone on the table) by a war engine. BUT it is likely that skaven advance scouts would spot any war-engines ahead and that therefore there could be a game when the skaven try to knock out said engines. If an entire army was with the engine, or any substantial force, then skaven advance troops would fail, or just not attempt an attack, but the enemy force would be in great danger if it ends up on the tabletop with the engine.  Besides, the skaven advance guard could forewarn the mortar’s attendants and it could then travel a different path to close in on its target.

All of this means that it is likely (though not guaranteed) that it would be some speedy, mobile enemy force that tries to take on the engine. It could be deployed with an army, and fighting against an army, obviously, but this is not what its designers intended, and if such a situation was about to happen, the engine might just lob its very long-range globe at the enemy army anyway! Probably, while it was a safe distance from the skaven main army! Which again leads to a tabletop scenario in which enemy scout types take it on, or some other form of outlying force, even a defensive force!

Whatever sort of tabletop scuffle it became involved in, it is an engine which kills the very land over which it passes, and requires suitably protected attendants, and thus will harm any who get too close. We needed rules!

There was potentially useful information in the existing Skaven rules:

Skaven Book, p. 46 Censer Bearers, Plague Censer rule
This is useful as it shows the effect of being close to the gaseous mixture (described as a ‘fog’) of warpstone and poisons.

Skaven Book, p. 49: Plague furnace “Enshrouded by fog” rule
There is also similar T test (etc) when the furnace uses the Billowing Death effect (template based) in Shooting phase.

Also from the  Skaven Book …

p. 47 “Fume addled crew” - Plague-claw catapult crew’s senses dulled by the toxic fumes.
p. 59  Poisoned Wind globes.
p. 63 Poisoned Wind Mortar.

So, I came up with a first draft set of rules, passed it to the skaven player, tweaked quite a lot, then got the other campaign players to ‘ok’ them.

The rules …

Proximity to the Mortar

At start of each of its own side’s turns, roll D6 on following table. Effects apply until the next turn, then roll again.

1 Everyone feels queasy near the engine. No game effect.
2 Everyone within 12" of the engine's muzzle is at -1 S & -1 Init (being dizzy & disorientated).
3 As 2. Also any unit within 6" of the engine's muzzle during the skaven shooting phase takes D3 hits, each affected model rolls a T test, with no armour saves, & if fails, takes a wound.
4 As 2. Also any unit within 12" of the engine's muzzle during the skaven shooting phase D3 hits, each affected model rolls a T test, with no armour saves, & if fails, takes a wound.
5 As 2. Also any model within 6” of the engine's muzzle during the skaven shooting phase, takes a Toughness test, with no armour saves, & if fails, takes a wound.
6 As 2. Also any model within 12” of the engine's muzzle during the skaven shooting phase, takes a Toughness test, no armour saves, & if fails, takes a wound.

Note: The engine attendants & suited guards do not take these tests unless they are currently engaged in combat, when they are not quite as sealed up and protected (what with flailing around etc), in which case in each combat phase they are fighting the above rules apply, but they do get a 5+ ‘protective gear’ save (which works just like an armour save).   

The mortar’s crew/attendants

If all the mortar’s attendants are killed (like a war engine's crew) the engine cannot fire! 5 attendants, not 6, as the model in the wheel part cannot fire it. Kill him too (6th wound) and it cannot move. The crew should fight as per the normal war engine in combat rules. This vulnerability is why the protective gear wearing guard regiment travels with the engine.

Also, the attendants are required to nurse the engine continually, to regulate it and vent it's emissions as required. As soon as the 5 attendants are dead, roll an artillery dice per Skaven shooting phase. A misfire counts as a misfire as if it was shooting. This is another reason the engine has an assigned guard regiment.



Firing the engine

Size-wise it is a bit like a plague claw catapult; in terms of mobility, it is like a doomwheel; while its armament is akin to a poisoned wind mortar in weapon - but much bigger and very much more powerful.  One firing only.

A ranged shot into a settlement or an army
Range: Several table lengths (Effectively 3 or 4)

Strength and damage: It can kill a settlement, even a city, leaving only a handful of survivors, weak and ill. Each character in the city has to pass D3 Toughness tests to escape, with no character recovery roll if they die. (Most characters should, I think, get out alive.) Each unit within the city must pass D3 Toughness tests for every model to escape, with no casualty recovery rolls. (This should more than decimate the units.)



If it goes off anywhere on the tabletop
Use the same rules as above to escape the tabletop. Already received wounds might have weakened characters already, making it less likely that they escape alive. All deaths are counted as 'overkills' for casualty purposes, so there is no recovery roll. The attendants etc, do not get to count their special armour - this blast is way more than a mere poisonous leak!



To fire the mortar
Roll TWO numbered artillery dice. If either one is a misfire, it has misfired …

Misfire Chart, D6
1-2 Foomph! Explodes in the tube. The tabletop explosion rules apply. Anyone within 8" of the engine is drained of all life and becomes a dried husk (like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark!).
3-5 Wildly off target. Roll D6, on 1-4 it misses the target city/army/camp/settlement and poisons a large swathe of ground nearby. GM to determine if anyone is hurt by the blast. 0n 5 or 6 it lands somewhere on the table, and then the tabletop explosion rules are applied.
6 Clogged. The super-grenade is stuck on the barrel. It can attempt to fire again, but next time must roll 3 artillery dice. Additionally, on any subsequent turn it does not fire, it has to roll a single artillery dice in the shooting phase to see if it misfires just sitting inside the barrel. If it does, roll on this modified chart …

1-2 Foomph! Explodes in the tube. The tabletop explosion rules apply. Anyone within 8" of the engine is drained of all life and becomes a dried husk (like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark!).
3-5 Shoots. Roll D6, on a 1 it hits its originally intended target, on 2-4 it misses the target city/army/camp/settlement and poisons a large swathe of ground nearby. GM to determine if anyone is hurt by the blast. 0n 5 or 6 it lands somewhere on the table, and then the tabletop explosion rules are applied.
6 Clogged. The super-grenade is stuck on the barrel. It can attempt to fire again, but next time must roll 3 artillery dice. Additionally, any subsequent turn it does not fire, it has to roll an artillery dice in the shooting phase to see if it misfires just sitting inside the barrel. If it does, roll on this same chart again.



If it is destroyed (before firing) by either a war engine or a unit/character/monster

When it is destroyed, and every Skaven turn afterwards (unless it has already exploded), roll D6

1-2 Foomph! Grenado Explodes. The tabletop explosion rules apply. Anyone within 8" of the engine is drained of all life and becomes a dried husk (like the Nazis at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark!).
3-6 Roll on the “Proximity to the Mortar” table.



The rest of the rules

* The mortar moves like a doomwheel, but due to its extra burden only goes 2D6 inches per move, not the usual 3D6.  Due to the fact that the engine has made it this far there must be some sort of ‘release the pressure’ deceleration or brake, so the player always has the option, after rolling the 2D6 for movement, of rolling 1D6 to reduce said movement.
* The attendants and engineer fight like the 'crew' of a normal doomwheel, 2D6 Attacks, but at S3 not 2. (They are not rats, but rat-men!)
* Rolling Doom rules apply. (p.67) but at 2D6.
* Loss of control rules apply - including the ‘Out of Control’ rules
* Grinding down the foe rules: Impact hits apply, but there is no 'grinding down' as the big gun is in the way of the wheel.
* There are NO ‘Zzzap’ rules.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 25, 2021, 10:00:29 PM
Part 2, The Fighting Begins

Being the nimblest body upon the field, it was the enemy’s horsemen who first came up, unsurprisingly making directly for the engine, a motion which revealed that they must surely possess more than an inkling of the engine’s terrible potential.

(https://i.imgur.com/sIU6RV8.jpg)

(Game note: I forgot to vanguard move them. Doh! If I had they probably could have shot this first turn.)

The trees, however, still concealed the engine from the riders and so it was only the foot-crossbowmen by the bridge who let loose their quarrels. These reached the engine, but with no noticeable effect, other than to clatter off this and that part, and to stud the ground around with fletched shafts. Not one had struck an attendant. The engineer on the rear platform, whose job in directing the engine in battle had become incrementally more important as the driver’s miserable condition further deteriorated, was much encouraged by this turn of events, and now wondered whether his engine might simply roll straight up to the bridge, where the paved surface would provide a reassuringly firm footing for its firing.

(https://i.imgur.com/2v0utMA.jpg)

Glancing left he saw the slaves and his mind was made up. Despite their many deficiencies, their numbers alone would surely make them capable of thwarting any aggressive moves by the crossbowmen. And so, he ensured the engine maintained its current bearing, which was achieved so neatly that it remained perfectly in line with the rest of the advancing army.

(https://i.imgur.com/nmpmGpJ.jpg)

Due to the trees, the engineer knew nothing of the enemy horse galloping obliquely across the field, but Golchramik could see them plainly.

(https://i.imgur.com/6xHjzhi.jpg)

It was obvious they were making for the engine, and he knew that could not be allowed. Even if they were unable to reach it, or harm it with their shots, simply forcing it to change course, or merely to jolt or shudder, could have catastrophic results. Hefting his rocket launcher, he knew this was his moment. He had one chance, and he would not let it slip by. As a single rider fell to what was presumably a shot from the second company of jezzails, Golchramik turned to aim at a spot just ahead of the horsemen’s current path, while his clawed fingers curled tightly around the release lever. Raising the muzzle to what felt like the correct height, he yanked hard and whoosh!

(https://i.imgur.com/irxkjgn.jpg)

As the rocket arced away at a most satisfactory angle, Golchramik noticed several horsemen look upwards in fear, pulling hard on their reins. They were too late, however, for the rocket thumped into the ground almost in their midst and exploded in a great ball of fire.

(https://i.imgur.com/b5Hakhd.jpg)

The three surviving riders could do little more but cling to their panicked horses as they fled towards, then over, the river. One was swept away by the waters so that only two gained the far side, from where both raced away towards the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/Y9bo1Vl.jpg)

As they departed several other enemies arrived. Both of the other light horse companies had received word of the force approaching the river and had galloped post-haste to the bridge. The second company of mounted Compagnia crossbowmen were already upon the southern side of the river, and so came from the ratmen’s left …

(https://i.imgur.com/msBhL8V.jpg)

… while Perette and her Brabanzon riders arrived along the road leading from the city directly to the bridge.

(https://i.imgur.com/J8WORes.jpg)

Another, considerably slower, component of the Campogrottan forces also arrived upon the northern bank of the river, being one of the two dwarven artillery pieces. The dwarven crew had already been making their way to the bridge, ordered to assist in the guarding of that approach, and would have arrived at that moment anyway.

(https://i.imgur.com/hmzLj2U.jpg)

The fiery wizard, enchanted staff in hand, boldly led her riders onto the bridge, intending to waste not one moment of time in assaulting the engine, howsoever she could. The clattering of horses’ hooves off the stone was louder even than the grinding clunk, clunk of the engine.

(https://i.imgur.com/eoMX44X.jpg)

The Compagnia’s riders were somewhat more cautious, arriving as they had closer to the enemy, and came up looking for some way to shoot past the slaves at the engine.

(https://i.imgur.com/fbOtc8L.jpg)

Despite the slaves’ presence, the hulking engine was clearly visible to them and so they slowed to span their light crossbows and load their quarrels.

(https://i.imgur.com/IwE77Jk.jpg)

The dwarfen cannon crew cursed as they could not see the engine to target it. All the riders, however, were closing as best they could upon it.

(https://i.imgur.com/4ggasYD.jpg)

As those at the front of the Brabanzon pulled arrows from the quivers attached to their saddles, Perette could sense the arcane power of the engine, perceiving how the winds of magic were perturbed by it, coiling chaotically in contrary eddies. She also knew what the huge barrel, its muzzle steeply elevated, must mean. This was some sort of mortar, and whatever it fired would surely be much more deadly than any ordinary grenado.

(https://i.imgur.com/K16ejJk.jpg)

And so, she hastily conjured a fireball to hurl at it. Then, as she watched its strength wane to wash ineffectually over the foe, she discovered the cost of her impetuousness. A small part of the magic she had summoned had slipped from her control, and now rushed back, burning, at her. She gasped as the pain seared into her, and might well have fallen from her mount had not one of her companions reached out to steady her, asking, “My lady, what ails thee?”

Still, the Compagnia’s riders loosed their quarrels at the engine …

(https://i.imgur.com/NfynVcj.jpg)

… as the frontmost of the Brabanzon did likewise with their arrows.

(https://i.imgur.com/JarWbEd.jpg)

All to no effect.

The foot crossbow, however, had been taking their time, now that the engine was closer and they had a better measure of it. When they shot again, half the engine’s attendants fell, pierced deep with steel tipped bolts, while several quarrels tore into the machine there to be crunched apart by the spin of its workings.

(https://i.imgur.com/XVQAUQD.jpg)

The engineer at the rear felt one quarrel speed within a hair’s breadth of his ear, then another clang from his filter tank. This, the dead attendants, and the sudden arrival of several more enemy companies, one of which was thundering across the bridge straight at him, quickly changed his mind about his present course. Screeching so loud that the even the dismally distracted driver would hear, he pulled as hard as he could on the rudder wheel’s auxillary whipstaff, so that the engine turned sharply to the right and began moving beside the trees. The turn was so sharp that rather like a ship changing tack which missed its stays its speed was reduced almost to nought, so that it only barely managed to gain the concealment of the trees.

(https://i.imgur.com/TflWDdf.jpg)

The engineer still intended to reach the river, but would now aim for the grassy ground further along bereft of enemies to hinder his mechanical ward’s progress. It would take longer, but he had no real choice in the matter. To continue his previous tack would have meant another heavy shower of arrows and bolts, which he knew that would be the certain end of the engine.

Golchramik, meanwhile, was also screeching and signalling with his now rocketless tube, ordering the guard regiment towards the bridge. If the machine was to reach the river’s edge, then the riders could not be allowed to reach it.

(https://i.imgur.com/B0CuCr5.jpg)

The slaves also moved on, surging like a tide towards the crossbowmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/RcF13iQ.jpg)

Golchramik cursed, for their continued advance had left a way through behind them for the mounted crossbowmen. Glancing at the jezzails on the hill he doubted they could deliver sufficient punishment to stop the riders, and so he spun around to shout towards the plague monks. They would have to turn and head this way, the better to block the enemy horse if they did get around the slaves. Reforming as quickly as they could, they now moved as he commanded.

(https://i.imgur.com/yAyp03f.jpg)

Satisfied, Golchramik took a breath, and tasted the acrid smoke still curling from the muzzle of his rocket tube. Then something caught his eye, something shiny, over by the cottage. Squinting as his eyes adjusted from looking into the sun, he could see an armoured manthing had stepped out of the building’s rear doorway, with a great sword in his hands.

(https://i.imgur.com/VFcrb4L.jpg)

“No, no!” he hissed, as he realised this was a new threat to the engine, then stepped forwards through the trees knowing that only he was left to thwart this particular enemy. Not for the first time he cursed the fact that despite asking for two rockets, he had been given but one.

Distracted and angry as he was, he did not know that the jezzails on the right of the line had simply moved down from the hill, being no longer able to see any enemies, whilst the jezzails on the left had missed the crossbow horsemen completely.

(End of Turn 2)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 28, 2021, 10:13:10 AM
Part 3, The Fighting Ends

(Game Note: The annihilation mortar took 3 wounds from the crossbowmen in turn 2, and so was now reduced to a mere 2 wounds. This explains David’s attempt to move it to the river’s edge by another, safer route. The trouble is, whichever enemy unit arrives per turn from now on, they can deploy anywhere on the table edge behind the river (having come from that side of the river), and so most likely will be close to the engine &/or facing its intended destination. Luckily for David, as the enemy is an NPC force, so the particular units which arrived were being randomly rolled for from a list of those still in the city (i.e. those not already having been lured away by the ‘distraction’ in Buldio.) David also knew a last desperate course of action could simply be to attempt fire the engine anyway, for a 50% reduced likelihood of reaching the city.)

Now back to the story account of the game’s events.


Upon the far side of the river, entering the field with a flamboyant fluttering of flags, the largest regiment of the Compagnia del Sole, the halberdiers, marched on. They bore their enchanted banner, blessed by the goddess Myrmidia. Apart from their armour, both leather and steel, they were clothed in the company’s maroon and blue, some sporting the Myrmidian white baton and yellow half-sun emblem that was also emblazoned upon their standard.

(https://i.imgur.com/SOreZm6.jpg)

Leading them, and carrying an older, smaller, but more precious banner (the oldest in the company and the army standard) was Marshal Luigi Esposito, General Mazallini’s second in command. He had been left to govern the city while the general led the relief force to Buldio, and so it was he was the first to hear from the scouting riders of the enemy’s approach from the south. A small man, he had proved himself in battle on many an occasion, a reputation encouraged if not solely enabled by his famously magical armour. Time and time again, blows that ought to have severed his arm or even decapitated him, had proved jarringly ineffective. On this occasion, however, his urge to reach the river quickly had been so pressing he had forgone the buckling of his leg armour and left his helmet lying in his chamber.

(https://i.imgur.com/o2lUXvm.jpg)

Not so Captain Venusto - the fully steel-carapaced fellow who had stepped boldly from the bridge-keeper’s cottage. The captain raised his visor momentarily to look at Marshal Esposito, waved and then slammed it shut again, before charging headlong at the warlock engineer striding purposefully towards him. The overgrown rodent was much taller than the captain and made to appear even more massive by his swirling yellow robes and the hulking brass apparatus strapped to his back.

(https://i.imgur.com/mnO6nJr.jpg)

Entirely inured to the weight of his armour, Venusto arrived in front of the ratman and immediately stepped, nimbly, to one side. Golchramik was bewildered, still clutching the smoking, now useless rocket tube. When Venusto’s vicious cut was made, it sliced deeply, through fur, flesh and ribs. Golchramik fell heavily to the ground, the great weight of his many burdens speeding his collapse, then breathed his last as Venusto hauled the blade up and thrust it through his chest to scrape past the copper contraptions and plunge into the grassy ground underneath.

The captain took a deep breath, yanked the blade free, then shouted “Next!” before running into the trees which lay between him and the engine.

From over the river, the marshal watched, peering through the trees Venusto had penetrated at the dark shape moving noisily on the other side. He immediately realised two things: first, the captain would have to be lucky indeed to reach the engine, as fully armoured fellows rarely fared well in a sprint through the woods; and secondly, he and his halberdiers could not cross by the bridge, not if they were to have any real chance of reaching the engine.

On the Campogrottans’ far right the mounted crossbowmen made their way as best they could between the trees and the huge mob of slaves, hoping to find a way to catch the engine.

(Game Note: Their failed Ld test meant they could not march within 8” of the enemy.)

(https://i.imgur.com/MoeCaGi.jpg)

Those upon the front-left of the body who could see the engine had high hopes of reaching it, for it lurched and careened most ungainly as it moved over the rougher ground malformed by the trees’ roots, like a badly-trimmed ship might sail in choppy waters, crankily heeling over for too long and too far.

(https://i.imgur.com/Bt9U9QR.jpg)

Indeed, it looked like it might itself be the author of its own demise, for if it were to keel over it certainly would not be firing anything that day!

Perette and the Brabanzon crossed the bridge, but then she raised her hand to halt them.

(https://i.imgur.com/xEVCuKi.jpg)

She knew if they rode any further they would put themselves between the crossbowmen and the engine, preventing another shot, which would be a shame considering their volley had done so much to discourage it previously! Besides, from here her riders could shoot and she could conjure more magic. There was no need to move on, especially when that would almost certainly mean she and her companions were hit from two sides by a veritable horde of ratto uomo. She did not know it, but her caution caused the dwarven cannoneers’ cursing to redouble, for now the Brabanzon blocked any glimpse of the engine they might otherwise have had.

Kissing the ruby ring she wore on her right hand, she released its magic and sent several fireballs curling towards the engine. But the etheric winds were weakened by the enemy’s will, and all dissipated before reaching their target.

(https://i.imgur.com/d6LMsa3.jpg)

Annoyed by the sight, she allowed her anger to add a sharp edge to her own incantation and conjured more fireballs, this time of her own volition. One alone reached the engine, bursting to send sparks washing over it. An attendant fell, squealing in agony, his waxen robes ablaze, his squeals ceasing suddenly when the copper tank on his back popped.

(Game Note: The engine was, at this moment, down to its last wound!)

Perette cursed, for the engine was still moving. Worse still, she was horrified to see that the paths of several stray fireballs and the volley of quarrels from the crossbowmen had crossed, diverting most of the missiles to spin over and into the ground. Their third shot had thus failed completely.

Neither she, her riders nor the Compagnia’s crossbowmen had managed to stop the engine. Nor could Captain Venusto, for as he emerged from the trees the engine was picking up pace, and just before he could reach it to land a blow he was tumbled by a tree root.

(https://i.imgur.com/HFcairh.jpg)

(Game Note: Venusto’s overrun, directly towards the engine, after defeating the warlock engineer, had proven a little bit more than 1 inch too short!)

(https://i.imgur.com/NRTjn3a.jpg)

The engineer at the wheel’s rear knew his mechanical ward was closer to catastrophe than ever before. Barely any attendants were left to assist its passage, and the driver at the heart of the wheel seemed to have finally perished during the shower of fireballs that had washed over and through the engine. He alone remained to steer the engine, which would take all his strength, perhaps requiring more than he had to give. And if the engine was to fire, then he could only hope that he and those attendants who survived were up to the task.

The regiments here to guard the engine, however, had little understanding of its precarious state, and now launched charges intended to ensure its continued progress. They could not allow the Brabanzon and the fire-wizard to continue their pursuit, nor could they risk another shot from the crossbowmen. And so, as the slaves hurtled into the footsoldiers behind the painted pavaises, the guard regiment began its charge against the riders.

(https://i.imgur.com/L9wxki7.jpg)

Several slaves perished from the crossbowmen’s countershot, but such was the size of the mob that their demise went entirely unnoticed by either friend or foe. Like the arrival of a heavy wave upon a beach, they crashed against the pavaises; then they set about the bloody work of blades, claws and teeth.

(https://i.imgur.com/gNRvuov.jpg)

So busy were they in slaughter, that not one slave noticed the Brabanzon riders’ flight across the bridge.

(https://i.imgur.com/yvvQ6KO.jpg)

Of course, the guard regiment were fully aware, for barely had they taken two steps before the enemy was off, away and out of reach.

(https://i.imgur.com/8LYE5R0.jpg)

In truth, Perette had had little say in the matter. Weakened as she was by her conjurings and wounded by the magical flames she had earlier failed to master fully, she simply went along with the riders as a jumble of instructions tumbled at her: “This way, my Lady”, “Come, now!” and “We must flee!”

 

(https://i.imgur.com/uwL48SO.jpg)

The riders had not come here to sacrifice themselves as martyrs to Campogrotta’s cause. Nor, after all they had been through, not least witnessing the slaughter of almost every other Brabanzon soldier at Ravola, did they intend to throw their lives away for the sake of pride or honour. Most of all, perhaps, they could not allow their beloved lady to die. Instead, they would ride away, regroup, and when the enemy was far enough behind that they could think, they would then decide what was for the best.

As the engine rolled on between the two woods, the engineer, despite his mask, could suddenly taste the poisonous vapours leaking from the grenado even through his mask, and feel the sting of the etheric heat as it wormed its way into the material world to become sharp tendrils of real heat. The last of the attendants stumbled in pain as they tried to keep up, while two of the plague monks and two more of the jezzailers close by succumbed to the surging toxicity of the unstable orb within the bombard’s barrel.

(https://i.imgur.com/dOTUDGS.jpg)

Captain Venusto also stumbled as he raised himself from his fall, having to clutch at a branch with his steel-gauntleted hand to prevent himself from falling again. There he hung for a moment, wheezing, as his head swam, his great sword trailing on the ground.

The engineer’s throat was burning, his eyes pouring tears that misted up the tinted glass of his mask’s lenses. Suddenly, he realised the pained screeching he could hear close by was emanating from between his own clenched teeth. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his fevered mind a quiet voice declared, “So this is the end?”

The slaves brutally mauled the crossbowmen, so that only a handful escaped the rusted blades to perish instead in the river water. The jezzails on the hill first cheered when at last their bullets hit home and tore two riders from their saddles, while a third was thrown hard onto the ground when another bullet shattered his mount’s head, but then they cursed as the remaining riders simply rode on after the engine.

Meawhile, a newly arrived regiment of Karak Borgo quarrellers were marching up the river’s edge (being part of Narhak, the Thane of Dravaz’s Campogrottan contingent) to further threaten the engine’s demise.

(https://i.imgur.com/QLSbDSB.jpg)

Desperate, yet also glad he had left off most of his armour, the Compagnia’s marshal led his men into the rushing waters, where a dozen sank to their deaths.

(https://i.imgur.com/5IFMCzx.jpg)

Somehow, he knew he must reach the engine. Whatever it was, whatever it did, the enemy were obviously deadly determined to do it. He could see even the ratmen were dropping around it, and he could feel the awful aura it exuded. If the engine merely reached the river, there to plunge to its ruin, the waters would likely run poisonous for many a league, perhaps even to the sea, and a vast throng could die as a consequence. The city of Campogrotta itself would most likely be poisoned too.

(Game note: Dangerous Terrain tests seem a bit too ‘weak’ at times. This was not a stream, but a large river which carried river traffic, deep enough to require a bridge. So, not wishing to rule the river impassable as I have in past games, and thus deny a dramatic attempt to cross, I ruled that the 41 models would take two Dangerous Terrain tests each. It is summer, when the rivers are lower than Spring, and this is quite some distance from the sea, so it wouldn’t be at its deepest. 82D were rolled, 12D came up 1. I think the halberdiers did well. The sad thing is that they were still in the river at the end of their turn, being unable to march move, and so would have to take the double tests again! I did say the marshal was desperate!)

As the dwarf quarrellers prepared their crossbows for a shot …

(https://i.imgur.com/Bqi5Z63.jpg)

… the engine was decelerating, its warpstone-heated tanks leaking spark-laced steam out of several ruptures. Again, the wheel lurched wildly to one side, which the engineer only just managed to correct using all his remaining strength.

(https://i.imgur.com/aHyXo68.jpg)

It was now obvious to him that the engine would not reach the river’s edge, from where all the engineers had agreed it should definitely be within range of the city. Worse still, if the dwarven quarrellers were to shoot, or the horsemen caught up from behind, it might never shoot at all!

(https://i.imgur.com/xgDUOrd.jpg)

He managed to transform his screeching into a shouted command. And very simple it was too, being just, “Now!”

“Now! Now! Now!”

Yanking the brake handle to full lock, the engine slowed to a stop, and he jumped from the platform. He hit the ground hard, buckling his legs, and as his body thumped down, his mask slipped. Involuntarily gasping a mouthful of foully metallic air, his life was lost before his roll was complete.

Nevertheless, two attendants remained, of which one retained the wit and strength necessary to make his way to the bombard’s rear, where its carriage was connected to the driving wheel. He then scrambled up onto the carriage so that he could reach the firing hammer. All the while, the other surviving attendant was reeling about, utterly lost in confusion concerning some rhyming instructions he had attempted to rote-learn concerning how to fire. They had to be wrong, he finally decided, because they no longer rhymed!

The first attendant, however, still had an idea what to do. He now yanked at a little chain to release the preventer pin, then tore off the cracked-leather stall covering the shard of flint. Some part of his mind was complaining about the procedure, in particular the order in which he was supposed to proceed, but with most of his thoughts screaming about the pain he was experiencing, he couldn’t sift out what was nagging at him. Fumbling in his apron’s pouch, he pulled out an iron tool. It was the wrong tool, but one of its edges would suffice for scraping, which is what he now began to do, clearing away the sticky gobbet of wax protecting the touch hole. One of his eyes wouldn’t open, so nothing was quite as near or far as he thought it was, but most of the wax came away. His finger tips fizzled as he scraped so close to the barrel. Thrusting his hands back into the pouch he began pulling things out and discarding them. The fourth thing he dropped was a powder flask, which clattered down between the carriage parts to the ground below. Whilst clutching at the fifth he realised the flask was what he needed. Stretching to reach down between the timber and iron parts, his feet clutching as hard as his hand to keep a hold while he strained down with the other. The tip of his middle finger claw scraped at the flask. His head was swimming, the flask spinning, so he stopped for a moment and grabbed a strut to steady himself.

As he hung there, he sensed the carriage was, almost imperceptibly, moving - slowly tipping sideways. He twisted head to look back and saw the wheel behind was leaning over precariously, and as it was still linked to the bombard carriage, it was beginning to haul that over too. Straining his one good eye, he could see why - the starboard wheel was still, howsoever slowly, turning, and grinding the mud.

“Never stop. Never, ever stop,” they had said. Many times.

Then, amongst a confusion of contrary instructions concerning what to do if the engine did stop, someone had said, “And do not stop on soft ground.”

Blinking the one eye he could, he looked down to find the flask, which was lying in mud. He stretched out his arm again.

The wheel was leaning more than should be possible now, but the great weight of the bombard, still attached, was apparently sufficient enough to stop it going over the whole way. Except, the bombard had also moved a little bit. And maybe, just now, a little bit more.

He had the flask, his claw hooking its leather strap to lift it. Hauling himself back up to the pan beneath the touch hole he commenced pouring. The black powder spilled in and began to spill out. The whole thing must be leaning over much further than he thought!

“More then,” he muttered and poured the entire contents of the flask onto the pan.

Suddenly the carriage began to lift on one side, and a great groaning came from the fatal connection joining the wheel to the carriage. It was going over.

It was going over right now.

“Never stop,” they had said. More than anything else. “Never stop.”

As the whole world around him was tipping up, he pulled the hammer’s release.

(https://i.imgur.com/vMgvf84.jpg)


And After

Very few survived the fight at the bridge. One of the crossbow horsemen was found later, without his horse, sobbing on the southern bank of the river more than a league from the bridge. The marshal, soaking wet, red-faced and wheezing, with no armour about him whatsoever, was helped to the city’s southern gate by two of the halberdiers. No other halberdiers returned. Four dwarfen crossbowmen returned, each one with the same crazed expression, but none of the cannoneers.

Perette and her riders had been far enough away to survive, although all needed tending by the city’s chirurgeons to rebalance their badly skewed bodily humors.

This was all just the start of the city’s new misery.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 31, 2021, 10:41:11 AM
Part 19 of Tilea's Troubles is complete - a video story/battle report of orcs 'n gobs vs orc's 'n gobs!

Scarback's Greenskin Corsairs face the might of Khurnag's Waagh! Well, they face whichever parts of the Waagh! can be bothered to turn up. Organisation is not exactly goblinoids'' forte.

https://youtu.be/GCoTgToilt0

Here's a selection of some of the pics ...

(https://i.imgur.com/Q63ZI0c.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/VNYTyqk.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/slitEgf.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/LJzowAC.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 15, 2021, 06:03:50 PM
Part 20 of Tilea's Troubles is completed ... see https://youtu.be/uBezVITEfrE

It is the prologue to an exciting battle report, which will follow soon.

Some of the pics ...

(https://i.imgur.com/kKygIEJ.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/eMzI7iJ.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/LFAouMs.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on August 17, 2021, 08:14:07 PM
Nicely done as always. I love your attention to detail.  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 23, 2021, 10:03:41 PM
Thanks Perambulator.

Tilea’s Troubles Part 21 is up! It is the battle report, the longest yet, describing the Viadazan peasant crusaders’ stand against the vampire Duke Alessandro Sforta of Miragliano.

See it here …

https://youtu.be/SIf_f27Fw1g

Some pictures from the report …
(https://i.imgur.com/L7uVa6B.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/UXr1JMk.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/GZBGUae.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on August 23, 2021, 10:29:03 PM
Great video as usual! Wasn't expecting it to turn that way. :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 23, 2021, 10:33:17 PM
Neither were either of the players. We just happened to record in detail one of those crazy dice-roll situations.

General D'Alessio should have died so many times!!!!!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on September 01, 2021, 10:14:45 PM
Another good episode.  :::cheers:::  I always look forward to these! :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 01, 2021, 10:20:58 PM
Thanks Perambulator. By coincidence ...

Tilea's Troubles, Part 22 is 'up'. The Viadazan Terror! After the crusaders' great victory, Biagino learns some very bad news!

See https://youtu.be/YiOR-gGsbfo

(https://i.imgur.com/yPAVsiY.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on September 02, 2021, 10:11:34 PM
I was referring to Episode 22!  O0
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 12, 2021, 06:26:28 PM
Cool! You must have watched i almost as soon as it went up! That threw me!

Here is part 23 of Tilea's Troubles, this time it IS a prologue to a battle report and not an epilogue confused (by me) for a prologue like the last one. I promise to be more careful in future - I think late-night hobbying was to blame!

https://youtu.be/izxQbI3KkJo

(https://i.imgur.com/FTwq8aU.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on September 12, 2021, 09:49:19 PM
Not late night hobbying, oh my! :icon_eek: :icon_mrgreen: :icon_wink: :icon_lol:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on September 13, 2021, 08:43:07 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 22, 2021, 08:23:07 PM
Preview pics from the next video - a battle report ...

(https://i.imgur.com/jyMMldt.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/9f2KI9M.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/HXUyJma.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/ii7KhUg.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/R8GtaQZ.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 24, 2021, 06:20:55 PM
Here is video Part 24 of Tilea's Troubles ...

https://youtu.be/JC66icAsWss

The Pavonans...

(https://i.imgur.com/h1XmnPs.jpg)

Take on the Compagnia del Sole...

(https://i.imgur.com/X2WbNR7.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on October 06, 2021, 09:23:32 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:


What happened here? I love your commentary and the color you added with it. Was this planned? It's great story telling but what happened in the game?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 06, 2021, 10:06:15 PM
Thanks Perambulator.

The campaign leads to all sorts of play. Battles are part of a bigger story, and taking big risks has consequences that last years, not just for that one game. The Compagnia were an NPC force in the employ of an NPC ruler (Prince Girenzo of Trantio). As the campaign GM running the force on the day against a player I was trying to win, at first. But, when I realised that the horse seemed unlikely to get back in time to assist, I knew that I would be risking the company’s annihilation. I decided to roll for just how ‘foolhardy/confident/brave’ the company's condottiere general was feeling, slanting the scores towards caution due to the fact that according to their background the company had been around a LONG time and so it was unlikely that the commander(s) took big risks often. He rolled very low, so 'very cautious'. I decided therefore that the company would attempt to retreat off its own table edge, and head back to join with the rest of Girenzo’s forces. To achieve this I employed the campaign house rules already in existence to do so. Players have done this several times to cut their losses and live to fight another day.

For the retreat to be allowed, a substantially-sized unit has to fight with the enemy for long enough to count as holding them back. If that occurs, they can retreat off the table edge and roll on a chart somewhat better than that for a defeat. Once that was done, when I wrote the story, all I had to do was make the general character’s thinking fit the orders he must have given, and that meant his personality/character had to suit that sort of thinking.

It is almost as if these stories write themselves, and I operate more like a historian than a fiction author! Also, once these sort of precedents are set, I subsequently know how to describe that character, and what sort of options to put in their ‘decision’ tables, and, importantly, how to weight the die-roll ranges to suit that sort of person. I can't ‘play’ the character in the way the players control their own PCs, as I am a GM and these are NPCs. But I also feel, because it is a wargame campaign, that I can't just make the NPCs' decisions for them, like some sort of god commanding everyone in the world apart from the PCs, and that's why I nearly always roll between appropriate options on a chart made with their nature in mind!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 06, 2021, 11:57:56 PM
More awesomeness, such a great effort being made with is.  It is truelly epic. :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 07, 2021, 11:13:12 PM
Part 25 of Tilea's Troubles is up! 

https://youtu.be/RkRFgpwyVl4


(https://i.imgur.com/jp9Q5jm.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on October 07, 2021, 11:15:29 PM
That's a great explanation, thanks. I have to say I'm very very impressed by what you're pulling out here. This is great stuff. (watching 25 now)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 24, 2021, 07:48:37 AM
Discord, Dangers and Disinclination

An Excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s Work: The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century

The First Months of Summer, 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/VWH5EJq.jpg)

In the far south there was much relief in Alcente when the Sartosan Corsairs’ army moved away from the city, without commencing a siege. Perhaps the mauling they had received at Sersale, or more likely, the haul of loot they had already taken, had convinced them to depart.

(https://i.imgur.com/wMbDPfk.jpg)

When it became clear, however, that they were not making their way to their ships in the Black Gulf, but instead had begun marching east along the ancient road towards Pavezzano, the citizens’ relief was coloured by concern. Soon, those who liked to boast of their wisdom in the ways of the world, were claiming that they had always known this would happen, for pirates never attack strong foes, like a dragon might challenge another of its kind, but instead seek out the weak, like wolves pick out the feeblest amongst their prey.

(https://i.imgur.com/Vajzpjs.jpg)

Pavezzano would prove a much easier prey to capture and consume than the stone walled city of Alcente.

Despite being hindsight, there was undoubtedly truth to this professed wisdom. The Sartosans had struck first at the relatively small city state of Luccini, while the prince and his army were absent. Then, upon learning that the army of the VMC had marched far north to assist in the war against the vampire duchess, they attacked the realm of Alcente (although the westerly winds of the recent spring storms had likely played a part in restricting their options, by making an easy return home to Sartosa unlikely). They had not attacked the much richer realm of Portomaggiore, for although Lord Alessio was also fighting in the far north, he had left a substantial force, in size an army, to protect his realm. Nor had the Sartosans sailed to Remas, similarly protected despite its own continued involvement in the war to the north.

(https://i.imgur.com/2Lbs9DX.jpg)

The Sartosans now discovered that despite their destruction of several companies of Alcentian militia, the stalling at Sersale had allowed time enough for more professional soldiers, including a renowned regiment of mercenary pikemen from the northern parts of the Old World, to be landed at the city of Alcente. If there was one thing the VMC could get plenty of, it was gold. Their investors’ contributions would only dry up if the prospect for future profit began to look less likely.

(https://i.imgur.com/keKlrzg.jpg)

The VMC’s ships were still able to serve the port, for although the Sartosan fleet was massed out in the gulf, only skeleton crews remained aboard - sufficient, it was thought, to defend themselves (or at the least, sail away from any threat) but entirely lacking in the fighting strength required to actively blockade the city from the sea.  Furthermore, Captain General Valckenburgh was widely reported to be returning from his northern enterprise, with a significant portion of his army, to relieve the city.

With all this in mind, no doubt, the Sartosan Corsairs had decided now was the time to leave the city’s environs. And if they were to return to their ships, then why not do so from the port of Pavezzano? For it was a place their fleet could easily sail to and which they could loot at their leisure en route to the wharves! 

(https://i.imgur.com/4BGcake.jpg)



At Pavona, only a few days after the young Lord Silvano’s departure to assist Campogrotta in the war against the ratto uomo, grave news came to the city of a most inauspicious event. Duke Guiodobaldo had been attacked during one of his hunts in the hills to the north of Montorio. The Verezzan brigand, Pettirosso, had attempted to assassinate him with a poison tipped arrow, seeking vengeance for the death of Lord Lucca.

(https://i.imgur.com/TAIHoyt.jpg)

Of course, such a slippery fellow had subsequently escaped, along with his band of robbers, into the wooded hills, while those with the duke had, at least in the first instance, been distracted by the need to get their master back to the city. Only once that was done did they pursue revenge, sending search parties out to scour the southern stretches of the Trantine Hills.

It was feared the duke had been mortally wounded, for his physicians reported that the arrowhead had pierced deep and the poison had entered his blood to bring about a deathly fever, the gangrene setting in at thrice the normal speed.

(https://i.imgur.com/a95l3IY.jpg)

Within a day, however, his two most able physicians, from the best universities in Estalia, a realm renowned for its medicinal knowledge …

(https://i.imgur.com/p38r74X.jpg)

… announced that his humours had been re-balanced and the poison countered with a potent combination of healing magics and efficacious medicaments, thus thwarting the duke’s death. This cause great relief in the city, and even celebrations, encouraged by the duke’s officers and courtiers, who paid for wine to flow from the city’s fountains and conduits!

Yet the duke remained bed-ridden …

(https://i.imgur.com/Beu04k1.jpg)

… and it was whispered that he was so weak as to be unable even to feed himself. It was clear he could not continue his daily duties as ruler. His most trusted advisors and privy councillors, knowing this to be a dangerous time for the recently ravaged city state, what with the ongoing discord with Verezzo, the new dangers of the ratto uomo and pirates, and the disinclination of the banking families of Tilea to loan the duke any more monies, agreed with their lord and master that his son, Silvano, must immediately be recalled to the city to serve as regent during the period of his father’s ill health.

Lord Silvano was to have full and unbridled authority, so that his father need not be troubled by any affairs of state, neither great nor petty. Indeed, the young lord would effectively be serving an apprenticeship for that he would attain upon his inheritance. Silvano thus abandoned his noble quest and returned with great alacrity.

(https://i.imgur.com/kQjpgvv.jpg)

There to be welcomed home by the city’s populace much more keenly than they had so recently bid him farewell, for he was generally considered a hero, having always strived his utmost to fight evil, at no small risk to himself, whether near or far from home, and was known to love both his father and the people of Pavona dearly.

(https://i.imgur.com/QZdFgUc.jpg)

Indeed, his new rule, in practice total (at least until his father recovered) was welcomed by many a ruler in Tilea, including not least the Arch-Lector of the Holy Morrite Church, Bernadino Ugolini, who knew Lord Silvano well, having served with him in the vampire wars and even once cleared the young nobleman in court of all wrongdoing (during the Pavonan brigade’s mutiny at Viadaza). Most were agreed that Silvano’s regency bode well for Pavona and its neighbours, although many were too cautious to admit this was because it meant Duke Guidobaldo’s tyranny had, at least for now and perhaps forever, ended.

The young lord’s regency was considered a chance for a renaissance for Pavona, an opportunity to begin again afresh: to thrive in trade, to build new alliances and new bonds and to forge a bright future under the enlightened rule of a valiant, principled, and compassionate ruler. 

It remained to be seen whether Barone Iacopo, regent of Verezzo, would remain implacable in his distrust of Pavona. He himself had served alongside Lord Silvano in the war against the vampires, and so knew full well how different the young man was compared to his father. Yet such was the wickedness of Duke Guidobaldo’s past actions, that the halfling lord, who loved his old master well and yearned deeply for revenge, might find himself unable to forgive Pavona. If he were to continue his hatred, perhaps it would manifest in something as small as choosing not to punish the brigand Pettirosso for his actions? Or perhaps it would manifest in continuing to prepare for war against Pavona?

Another even more powerful captain, General Valckenburgh of the VMC …

(https://i.imgur.com/ta5FESi.jpg)

… also had unfinished business with Duke Guidobaldo, concerning a most vile defamation. But the VMC’s considerable forces were engaged in wars both to the far north and the far south, providing entirely sufficient distraction to tie them up for some time. Besides, the general had himself yielded to young Lord Silvano’s persuasive requests to leave off the siege of Pavona, finding his petitioner to be an honourable enough fellow. All this considered, it could well be that like several other rulers, General Vlackenburgh was amenable to the notion of turning over a new leaf in his affairs with Pavona.




In the north-west, Lord Alessio Falconi’s mighty alliance army was floundering at the edge of the corrupted marshes that had overspilled to claim the environs of the city of Miragliano. On one night, early on in the attempted blockade, a vampiric fiend crept from the city under cover of darkness intent on assassinating the captain general himself. It seems that the unholy priest Biagino hoped to emulate the success his now truly-dead mistress had had when she sent Lord Adolfo into the camp of the Disciplinati di Morr, so killing both their Praepositus Generalis, Father Carradalio, and his second in command, the Admonitor Vincenzo, subsequently having such a deleterious effect on the Disciplinati that they were utterly, even easily, wiped out in the field of battle. 

Luckily, Lord Alessio’s personal bodyguard regiment, his brave Sea Wolves, discovered the monstrous assassin before it reached Lord Alessio, and (at the cost of several many of their own lives) they cut the monster down. Afterwards, Lord Alessio ordered its foul head cut off and placed atop a pike within sight of the city walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/IFK9flT.jpg)

It was doubtful such a sight would in any way stir fear in the foe, but it was at the least an advertisement of the alliance army’s defiance. Several soldiers began taking it in turns to guard the grisly trophy, whilst at the same time adding to the line of observation posts strung about the large army as it prepared for battle.

(https://i.imgur.com/iK02TmK.jpg)

Then, as well as knighting one of the wolves who fought the most bravely, Lord Alessio posthumously honoured those who had died by ordering their names recorded upon the city realm’s roll of honour, which kept the memory of all the heroes who had served the state with distinction.

It was one thing, however, for soldiers to defeat an assassin, another thing entirely to defeat sickness. The army camp’s proximity to a corrupted marsh harbouring a festering mass of undead had concerned Lord Alessio …

(https://i.imgur.com/DHnjxRl.jpg)

… which was why he had initially attempted to cleanse a route through it in order to attack the city promptly. This proved impossible, due to the dangerously slippery nature of both the foe and the land which harboured them, and so the captain general ordered a redoubling of the efforts to make rafts, battering rams and towers with which to assault the city walls. Then, at the first (inevitable) signs of camp fever and the flux, the general ordered the army moved to the nearest, properly dry land and instructed his soldiers and those of the Reman and VMC forces also under his command to drink only the water brought from the river near the Soncino watchtower by a dedicated contingent of horse and foot soldiers.

Meanwhile, his newly appointed siege master, Captain Guccio, oversaw the construction of several large rafts, including some to carry siege towers and one to carry a battering ram.

(https://i.imgur.com/RYDejR1.jpg)

These were to be propelled through the deeper waters of the marsh now surrounding the city by way of setting poles. Guccio, being a man of great practicality, had ordered the soldiers to practise along a deeply flooded stretch at the eastern edge of the marsh.

(https://i.imgur.com/kPHKBfl.jpg)

Where the waters were not so deep, the soldiers would have to dismount the rafts and carry them to the next flooded area. That task did not really require practise, just strength, and the army’s Captain General, Lord Alessio, had commanded that the soldiers should not be put to unnecessary exercises before the fight ahead, as he did not want them weakened, injured or made ill by wading the foul waters. The sickness threatening his camp was bad enough, he declared, without risking further losses from the rank and file. Punting, however, he permitted, for the soldiers need not go into the water, nor was it the most taxing of activities.

(https://i.imgur.com/ekVUmGZ.jpg)

It did, however, require learned skill, and practiced coordination between the men involved. If necessary, closest to the city walls, where the moat added considerably to the water’s depth, oars would have to be employed, but Guccio hoped that would just be a short distance. There would be a lot more punting to do, and plenty of opportunities for insufficiently skilled men to fail. 

(https://i.imgur.com/vv3EydY.jpg)

So it was that the alliance army, so close to the foul enemy and about to embark upon their most difficult assault yet, witnessed the incongruous sight of rafts coursing back and forth along the waters, not entirely unlike gentle-folk at play in gondolas on a moat within a grand city park.

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 24, 2021, 07:49:22 AM
In the north-east, the vile ratto uomo had pushed further southwards, presumably employing the ancient tunnels known as underpasses, which had long been generally thought to have collapsed. Emerging south of Campogrotta, upon the far side of the River Tarano, they had sent a terrible engine towards the city with sufficient guards to ensure it would get close.

(https://i.imgur.com/TflWDdf.jpg)

Luckily for the city, although not at all for those who went out to thwart the engine’s advance, it failed to lob its grenado over the walls, but instead blew itself up, instantly killing almost everyone, friend or foe, within two thousand braccia!

A good number of the Compagnia del Sole and the Karak Borgo dwarfs survived, for several companies had remained within the city during the attack, and more had the night before marched north to Buldio in response to reports of multiple instances of arson, believed to be the ratto uomo’s main attack, later presumed to have been a deliberate distraction.

A regiment of King Jaldeog’s dwarfs had been among the casualties, which left Lord Narhak with a much-reduced garrison in the city. The Compagnia suffered even more significant losses - several bodies of foot soldiers and companies of light horse, which for a mercenary company was no small matter. One of its captains, the respected Venusto Masin, perished in the blast, but the company’s marshal, Captain Luigi Esposito, strode away as if untouched by the effects of the poison, supporting the only two survivors of the regiment he had led onto the field of battle. Or at least, he was untouched bodily, for the state of his mind was another matter entirely, and compared to his past self, he was ever after like another man entirely.

The wizard Perrette, despite having approached the engine to cast her fire magic against it, also escaped, along with her Brabanzon riders, for they departed the engine’s vicinity just in time. In hindsight, no-one questioned the Brabanzon’s actions, for whether they were fleeing in panic or retreating in good order and with good reason, they had avoided almost certain death. To suggest they had done wrong was thus a moot point. 

Perette had been wounded during the skirmish, and subsequently kept her own counsel concerning her plans. Only she and her riders knew why they rode from the city so hastily, heading north.

(https://i.imgur.com/5knzoFB.jpg)

It was suggested she might intend to return to Ravola now that the ratto uomo’s main strength was removed from thence, or that she would cross the Nuvolonc back to Bretonnia, or that she looked to hide in the forests and wilderness again, with or without the Arrabiatti’s aid, there to nurse her wounds as she had done after Ravola. The most hopeful citizens wondered if she had gone to fetch the Arrabiatti to aid in Campogrotta’s defence, while the more pragmatic knew she had no real reason to do so.

She left behind confusion within the city. A huge area of dead and deadly ground now lay to its immediate south, and it was very likely that a ratto uomo army was close by somewhere.

(https://i.imgur.com/RzLduyA.jpg)

Those who knew something concerning past wars assumed, with good reason, that the ratmen had exited through one of their legendary tunnels hidden somewhere in the rocky, forested hills to the south.

(https://i.imgur.com/TcEUVd3.jpg)

If the enemy were there, then they would have to find a way around the poisoned land and cross the river elsewhere, with no bridge to carry them over - which was possibly why they had yet to appear at the city. Nothing lived in the newly corrupted land; nor, if it entered, could live, and even the river waters were poisoned as they passed through, so that the trees closest to the river began to wither all the way to its junction to the River Bellagio. It was most fortunate that no large settlement lay any further down river, for such a place would surely have suffered from the corruption in the waters, but the elves of Tettoverde must surely (and quickly) have noticed the poisoning of the northernmost reaches of their ancient, sylvan realm.

The Compagnia del Sole’s condottiere general, Bruno Mazallini, was less than happy to be the governor of a realm now half-poisoned, with sickness spreading through the city, and panic all around. The dwarven thane, Lord Narhak …

(https://i.imgur.com/2URQG6j.jpg)

… recorded in his personal book of grudges that the general and the remaining portion of the Compagnia del Sole intended to quit the realm and flee southwest, leaving it to the rat-men, with the general declaring in council that an army can never win when it goes into battle against a plague!

Lord Narhak, keenly aware of the danger of remaining in the city when all others were likely to leave or had already left, and that his loyal, dwarven warriors were just as susceptible to the rat-men’s foul poisons as any soldier, marched his small force to the watchtower of Lugo on the Carraia del Ferro.

(https://i.imgur.com/TxcKWSO.jpg)

There he halted and garrisoned the place, apparently intending thus to guard the gateway to the road to Karak Borgo, and at a suitable distance from the miasmic horror to the city’s south.

(https://i.imgur.com/qy8n8Bs.jpg)

There was little in the way of defences, for the tower was more a toll house than a stronghold, so he ordered his soldiers to make what defences they could, and quickly. What few engines the possessed were placed to face towards Campogrotta, for Lord Narhak reckoned any ratto uomo advance must surely come from that direction.

(https://i.imgur.com/v71lLP2.jpg)

He either knew or presumed that the rat-men’s tunnels could not possibly reach his mountain home, for the mining skill of dwarves was renowned and so any such passageways must surely have been discovered and collapsed or otherwise rendered impassable. The Iron Road was the only way to Karak Borgo. So, while his messenger made his way to King Jaldeog, and any reinforcements made their way down the Iron Road to him, he and his rump of a force would have to stand their ground as best they could.

(https://i.imgur.com/8MPc45U.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 30, 2021, 05:11:38 PM
Back to much earlier in the campaign ...

Part 26 of Tilea’s Troubles (short, but not particularly sweet) is up. Please see:

https://youtu.be/vkytc-HXkNA

(https://i.imgur.com/3g9cUP7.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on October 31, 2021, 12:17:04 AM
 :::cheers::: :happy: You have a very soothing voice. Nice job as always.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 18, 2021, 07:59:07 PM
Thanks. My voice is my job in many ways. And it has sneaked into my hobby too!

Tilea's Troubles, Part 27 is done! A 3000 pt 8th ed battle report with a Marienburg Mercenary army (fan list) taking on the Mighty Khurnag's Waagh! It uses original in-game pictures as well as re-posed ones. See ...

https://youtu.be/9pe5oj79bQM

(https://i.imgur.com/QjbZo1c.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/jYFp6WU.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/e7VOcA0.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Ss0NcoO.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on November 19, 2021, 04:34:00 PM
Wow very unlucky rolling for the Greenskins right from the start! This was probably the most one-sided game you've reported on and it didn't seem like would be in the setup.  :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on December 10, 2021, 03:01:05 PM
Another good episode! Your story crafting is superb. Well done as usual! :eusa_clap: :::cheers::: 
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 10, 2021, 04:40:39 PM
Thanks Perambulator. You must have subscribed as I had yet to put a link here.

Well ... now I have!

Video Part 28 is done. See https://youtu.be/BmRf0WpOSv8

(https://i.imgur.com/M3VKxWE.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/NZQ6CFR.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/InBn0UE.jpg)

We were supposed to have a BIG battle with myself and four players last Saturday, but illness (and nervousness re: the Pandemic) got in the way. I am getting desperate to play properly again. I might suggest another play by mail to my players over the xmas holidays, but I am not too sure they are keen. They too want a 'real world' get together and battle!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on December 10, 2021, 04:52:24 PM
I am, indeed!  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 16, 2021, 02:48:25 PM
Next video should be up sooner that normal. Here's a 'teaser' picture ...

(https://i.imgur.com/yK1e05f.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 16, 2021, 03:25:10 PM
I like it! :icon_biggrin: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 20, 2021, 05:21:47 PM
Tilea's Troubles, 29: The Battle of the Princes (a bat rep) is up!

It's a 'holidays' special, which once again includes the original, in-game pics (from about 7 years ago) with plenty of new additions to improve the visuals.

https://youtu.be/OMGJ1_f00hQ

(https://i.imgur.com/WYOfSd8.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on December 21, 2021, 02:56:49 AM
Keep it coming.  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on December 21, 2021, 10:43:26 AM
Another rousing good game! :icon_cool: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 07, 2022, 09:58:30 AM
Thanks GP and Perambulator!

Part 30 is done. A (short) epilogue to the Battle of the Princes.

https://youtu.be/-5jsnH0hLCo

(https://i.imgur.com/6pAx46L.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on January 07, 2022, 12:54:15 PM
Ha, seems like those two have been caught!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on January 07, 2022, 03:41:01 PM
And there's the broken pot!  :eusa_clap: 
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 23, 2022, 09:15:48 PM
Yeah. I wish I hadn't broken it!

Here are some random preview pics of my next video ...

(https://i.imgur.com/EfyK75V.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/8TEWfpg.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/12qYNYa.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Tyvw on January 23, 2022, 09:47:39 PM
that looks great, I'll have to put those video on my 'to watch list'
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on January 24, 2022, 03:40:13 PM
that looks great, I'll have to put those video on my 'to watch list'


You should! The narration is very soothing!  :happy:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 25, 2022, 01:27:54 PM
Very kind, guys.

Tilea's Troubles, Part 31 is now complete. It is a battle report in which the city of Trantio is assaulted by Duke Guidobaldo's Pavonans.

https://youtu.be/gbVGMrFT7s0

(https://i.imgur.com/vksyDVk.jpg)

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on January 25, 2022, 03:22:29 PM
Great job as always! Can you give an summary of the campaign? I'm having trouble placing where everyone is.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 25, 2022, 03:32:03 PM
When you say a summary of the campaign, do you mean of the video timeline or the present day situation? The video stories are lagging several years behind and are playing catch up.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on January 25, 2022, 05:18:18 PM
I don't really have a picture of how each faction is doing in relation to the videos. It's just a thought. I'm enjoying the videos all the same but their scope in relation to their world means there's a bit of jumping around that I don't always follow and an occasional summary of where everyone stands would be nice.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 25, 2022, 10:22:39 PM
Do you mean in the form of a video? I could try to work one up soon, to show the geopolitical situation at the point in time the videos are at.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on January 26, 2022, 01:38:19 AM
Do you mean in the form of a video? I could try to work one up soon, to show the geopolitical situation at the point in time the videos are at.

I thinking something in keeping with the spirit of "An Excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s Work: The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century" would be most interesting. Give you the chance to write something new, if the creative muscles need something beyond fit converting over the old with new pics and the like.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on January 26, 2022, 01:55:21 AM
At some point Padre had done a map after one year time of conflict showing things, although my memory might not be fully with it currently either.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 26, 2022, 11:27:44 PM
I was scouring through the campaign thread pages trying to find that. When I couldn't find anything and I had already gone way past the video story date point, I gave up. I will work out how to do something for YouTube.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on January 31, 2022, 02:48:55 PM
Do you mean in the form of a video? I could try to work one up soon, to show the geopolitical situation at the point in time the videos are at.

I thinking something in keeping with the spirit of "An Excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s Work: The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century" would be most interesting. Give you the chance to write something new, if the creative muscles need something beyond fit converting over the old with new pics and the like.


Oooh this or something like it!  :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 31, 2022, 03:16:55 PM
Somehow I missed SOF's post!! I will try to work out how to do just such a thing. Maybe a fake appendix to that particular year, outlining who was who and where everything is and everyone was.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on January 31, 2022, 03:24:10 PM
Somehow I missed SOF's post!! I will try to work out how to do just such a thing. Maybe a fake appendix to that particular year, outlining who was who and where everything is and everyone was.


 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: 
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 15, 2022, 12:19:36 PM
If I get the time, I will try to do what I mentioned above, but in the meantime I am putting more maps/orientation images into my videos!

Tilea's Troubles Part 32 is done - being three stories concerning events in the northern and central parts of Tilea ...

https://youtu.be/LKiCFYmyQuI

(https://i.imgur.com/kt7M6mn.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/okyMrDH.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Kl1QPDl.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on February 15, 2022, 06:36:15 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: I like the way you summarized events from the character's perspectives. Nicely done.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on February 26, 2022, 03:17:30 PM
Good video! Keep them coming!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 22, 2022, 10:45:18 PM
Thanks Perambulator. This one was slowed by the need to play a game and begin writing a new report. I even did a 'Behind the Scenes' video in between to keep them going out there!

Part 33 of Tilea's Troubles is live! Now I can go back to working on that new battle report, specifically its prequel. Like I have said before, despite not being able to get my head around it myself, it will be years before the videos catch up to the campaign's present day!

See - https://youtu.be/daXl2D0NDdg

(https://i.imgur.com/IbDZUT9.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/PFz4hWS.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/b1shYAb.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on March 23, 2022, 08:18:12 AM
No court appointed lawyer for the thief?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 23, 2022, 08:29:56 AM
He is a soldier for Duke Guidobaldo now. The Duke may have over-extended his reach, and thus needs all the soldiers he can get (even mercenaries who were once his enemy).
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on March 23, 2022, 03:41:33 PM
I always enjoy these. Great as always. :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on March 23, 2022, 11:28:06 PM
I even did a 'Behind the Scenes' video in between to keep them going out there!

Well that video did make me look up how hand carts work.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 25, 2022, 04:06:30 PM
Thanks you guys!

Please, once again, forgive the out of sequence nature of my posts. But here is the next (brand new) story from the 'live end' of my campaign, set several years after the latest video!

Prequel to the Assault on Miragliano

A Cornucopia of Corpses


They had already approached the city walls as close as they dared and had no intention of doing so again. Nofri convinced the other two that there was no real need, for their orders were to scout the sodden land around the city, and did not specify any need to draw particularly close to the walls. Indeed, as he mulled the matter over, he was able to justify their caution further. For example, if they were to approach the walls too closely, then that would likely result in their demise, ensuring they never returned to report what they had found, which he considered to be the most important element of their orders. And, added Benedetto with a wry smile, their animated corpses would only swell the enemy’s ranks, thus greatly annoying their captain.

They were but one of several parties of Portomaggioran handgunners sent out from the alliance army by the Captain-General Lord Alessio to ascertain what exactly might be the best approach to the city. As foul flood waters had spilled out from the Blighted Marshes to surround the city, just drawing close was not going to be easy for the army, never mind the act of assault. Miragliano was moated - a moat which had swelled as the water level rose, to become, on the face of it, three times as wide. Of course, it ran deep only along its original course, while the newly extended reaches were much shallower. Nevertheless, it now presented a much greater challenge for the army - not just because of the difficulty of moving through the sinking muds and tangled weeds, but because of the horrors that dwelt (or should that be un-dwelt?) within.

The city had been ruled by vampires for several years, and their necromantic dominion had turned it and the land around into a kind of hell. The three soldiers had quickly learned this upon their initial, more direct approach, when they had witnessed first a bubbling in the putrid moat waters, and then the emergence of a monstrous, plated creature, something akin to a crab or a scorpion, but as big as a boat.

(https://i.imgur.com/OtsbtRV.jpg)

It lolled heavily in the waters, splashing and scraping in equal measure, while its elongated, barbed mouth-parts chittered and spurted gobbets of noisome fluid. Red in colour, it undoubtedly hailed from the corrupted waters of the Blighted Marshes, tainted to grow unnaturally large and foully twisted. A nightmare made real, so that just the sight and smell of it sapped strength from the soldier’s legs, to leave them staggering in unsteady fear.

“Not this way then!” Benedetto had declared loudly, as the three of them turned away to move as swiftly as their weakened limbs would allow over the soft ground.

Glancing back, they saw the beast had begun to lift itself out of the deeper waters, as another of its kind surfaced behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/KDFVooh.jpg)

Once they had put some distance between them and the beasts, sufficient that they could no longer be seen, and had satisfied themselves that the monsters were making no attempt to pursue them, they all agreed that this particular stretch of the city walls could not be considered a suitable approach for the army. The beasts were massive enough that even while submerged and unseen, they could surely tip a raft, even a large one. And if they instead chose to rise up and attack, then they would surely make short work of all the unlucky souls it carried. Zanobi had voiced a concern that the creatures might move anywhere in the moat, and so should be considered to present a threat across its full circumference, but both his companions argued that they could make no such presumption. Neither beast had chased them, which could indicate they were of a somewhat sedentary nature. And even if that were not the case, then what more could they do than report where the beasts were spotted. Surely a confirmed sighting in a particular place counted for something, Nofri had suggested, and only a fool would subsequently choose said place for the armies crossing?

They picked their way forwards, adopting an arcing route that would keep them out of sight of the moat and the walls.

“A moat is a moat, and a wall is a wall, from wherever you stand,” said Nofri, feeling a need to further justify their continued caution. “Whatever spot we attack from, there will be the moat and the wall. Our task is surely to find a sound route to the moat’s edge, not to assess the moat itself.”

“They’d have given us a boat if they wanted us to test the waters,” said Benedetto, to bolster his friend’s argument.

“True enough,” agreed Zanobi, happily.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZFUzEuJ.jpg)

The three of them carried matchlock handguns, with all the necessary accoutrements, although only Zanobi and Nofri had a bandoleer, each of the several wooden boxes containing the necessary measure of powder for a single shot.

(https://i.imgur.com/tpK4NwD.jpg)

Benedetto preferred to pour directly from his powder horn into the muzzle, judging for himself the necessary amount, and believed he had the knack of getting it just right. Nofri was now glad of Benedetto’s decision, for even without a breastplate, the wooden boxes’ clattering was worryingly loud, especially when creeping around such a dangerous place as this. With a breastplate, the clickety-clack of the boxes against the steel would have seemed deafening.

(https://i.imgur.com/dDhiNLu.jpg)

It was that clattering, however loud, and the need to keep a match lit at all times, that meant hand-gunners on the move were never likely to gain surprise. Nofri had consoled himself with the thought that many of the undead may well be deaf, and a lit match was not such an advertisement in daylight as it was in the dark, but he had not fully defeated his fears concerning the matter. 

The occasional grey rock protruded from the ground, both large and small, although the pot-marked nature of the stone in these northern parts made them appear as if they too had begun to rot and fester. Other than the rocks, which were occasionally sharp and so not the most reliable stepping-stones, the ground was boggy at best and treacherously mud-sucking at worst. There was still some life in the land, limp greenery in the form of weeds and marsh plants, but despite the summer season every tree was leafless. Perhaps the miasma fermented from the foul marsh waters had poisoned them? It had certainly begun to work its harm on the army, forcing it to remove to a considerable distance from the city for the sake of its health, which in turn necessitated the discovery of a suitable route by which to approach the city whilst maintaining a good, fighting order.

Nofri took the lead, by a few steps, as he often did, his piece at the ready, match affixed. At regular intervals he would shift the hempen cord, so that the end did not burn down to the serpentine’s metal jaws, either to extinguish itself or burn through and thus cause the match to fall out. Like the others, he knew that while carrying his piece in such a way meant he could heft and shoot almost immediately should it prove necessary, needing only to open the pan as he did so, it did mean there was the constant risk of a spark landing on the pan, where, despite the closed lid, all it would take was a few stray powder-corns to cause a premature firing. So, he ported his piece at an angle, taking care never to allow the muzzle to point at his comrades.

(https://i.imgur.com/srRvcKS.jpg)
 
For some time, Nofri’s only utterances were in the form of, “Have a care,” or “Watch your step here.” As they settled into a steady pace, however, and the fear of monstrous pursuit subsided, he became more conversational.

“I profess no particular knowledge of the foul art of necromancy,” he began, “Nor have I seen the undead particularly close, what with them retreating so promptly at Norochia and with us doing nought but waste powder firing volleys up at wall-tops at Ebino, but I do find myself wondering what exactly drives them.”

“Evil, plain and simple,” offered Benedetto.

“Aye,” agreed Nofri. “I understand it is evil that conjures them into existence, through foul and despicable magics, but I’m asking what makes them do this and not that, attack one and not another? What directs them to do particular things?”

“The will of vampires or necromancers,” said Benedetto, with a tone implying the answer was obvious. “Otherwise, they would come on in battle like a mob, or like a herd of enraged kine, with no order nor cohesion.”

“I always thought they might have some memories of drill,” suggested Zanobi. “Despite having died since they learned it – enough at least to maintain their dressings. I don’t think I could ever rid myself of the memory of such an aching misery as early morning drill.”

(https://i.imgur.com/XoRKDDT.jpg)

Nofri frowned. “There’s more to it than that though. They know to attack the enemy and not each other; and they can stand regardless of provocation and opportunity until the moment is right for a charge.”

“Again … it’s evil magic that both raises them and drives them forth, directing them,” said Benedetto.

“So, without a vampire to play them like marionettes, they would flail and founder?” asked Nofri.

“Who’s to say they are played like marionettes? They might have just enough will left in them, howsoever wracked and tortured it is by what they’ve become, to imbue them with a burning hatred of the living – those who still possess what they have lost. Puppets possess no such will. Think of a necromancer as more like a hunter with a pack of hounds. He raises them vicious but loyal, makes them fit for the hunt, then chooses when and where to let them off the leash. The hounds have a hungry lust for the kill, but they obey their master’s commands. Out alone, the hounds are still dangerous, just less particular about who they attack.”

“Do necromancers tie them up like hounds?” asked Zanobi.

“What?” said Benedetto, obviously confused by the strange question.

“Look, see,” said Zanobi, pointing ahead. “Like that one!”

(https://i.imgur.com/Fkp3PYY.jpg)

The three halted, and Nofri and Benedetto followed Zanobi’s gaze.

(https://i.imgur.com/eilfoip.jpg)

Up ahead stood a zombie, clothed in filthy skirts, it’s face almost entirely hidden by long, greasy, matted hair. Its hands were shackled in iron and chained to a sturdy looking post set into the ground by its side.

(https://i.imgur.com/sJRTm54.jpg)

“That’s odd,” said Nofri. “Why chain it up like so?”

“I haven’t a clue,” said Benedetto. “She can’t act as a guard, as anyone can walk around her. She can’t be a look out for she ain’t going to cry for help. And she surely hasn’t been raised to swell the ranks of the defenders, for if so, why is she here?”

“Do you think she was chained before or after she died?” asked Nofri.

“And was it before or after she became undead?” asked Zanobi.

Nofri’s brow furrowed. “Eh?”

(https://i.imgur.com/51Vm09X.jpg)

“That’s not the mystery here,” said Benedetto. “Think on it. The undead are raised to serve necromancers and vampires, yes?”

“Aye,” the others both agreed.

“So why did they trouble to raise her then leave her chained?”

Nofri’s face drained of colour. “Is she a vampire?” he asked, gulping. “For they have their own wills, not beholden to those who sire them?”

“That’s debatable,” said Benedetto, hinting at a whole new argument.

(https://i.imgur.com/3eYGJuD.jpg)

“Well if not a vampire, then is she alive?” asked Zanobi. He took a step forward and asked, “Shall I go see?”

“No, Zanobi, there’s no need. Stay put,” ordered Benedetto. “We can just ask.”

He cleared his throat, then shouted: “You there? Are you hurt?”

The zombie’s head snapped up, the ragged and rotten mess that was its lower jaw made visible as its hair fell away, and it issued a disgusting, gurgling groan. 

“It’s a zombie,’ declared Benedetto. “Why is it here, though?”

“Perhaps whoever magicked it up couldn’t be bothered to go to the trouble of freeing it?” suggested Nofri.

“Then why go the trouble of raising it in the first place?” asked Benedetto.  “Necromantic magic has to extract a price, surely? I can’t imagine one goes about it lightly.”

Zanobi sniffed, then pointed at the zombie, shaking his finger. “Then maybe it raised itself, only then to discover the somewhat inconvenient fact that it is chained?”

“It can’t raise itself,” said Benedetto.

“Can’t it?” argued Nofri. “This place has been corrupted long enough, surely? Maybe the magical taint of necromancy has rooted and grown to curse the whole land?”

Benedetto pondered this, while the others stared with sick fascination at the zombie. He then said,

“More likely whoever raised her decided they had plenty enough defenders and she was surplus to requirements, not worth the effort of freeing. But we can’t be sure and you could be right. Whatever the truth, we must tell the captain that here in the marsh, the undead require no necromancers to sustain them; nor to command them, nor perhaps even to conjure them up in the first place. In a realm as old as Miragliano, that could mean one hell of a lot of walking corpses. Worst of all, it could be that Miragliano is so replete with defenders that they have no need of more!”

“Should we shoot it?” asked Zanobi.

“No,” said Benedetto. “It’d be a waste of powder. She’s not going anywhere. And I don’t want the shot to alert every foul creature around to our presence.”

“Best be away, then!” suggested Nofri.

They now began to veer away from the city, intending to navigate an arc which would cover a rockier stretch of ground to the south-west and bring them back to the army’s current camp. To reach the rocks, they would pass some stone ruins, once a farmstead, which they had been ordered to scout due to a report of activity there in the night. The three of them now moved even more carefully, picking their way slowly and carefully around the boggy pools and stopping frequently to look around, hoping to espy any enemies long before they drew close.

Their caution proved justified, for as soon as the ruins came into view, they could see movement –several long polearms and spears, even a ragged banner. The idea that it could be some of their own comrades did not even enter their minds, for they could see immediately that the banner took the form of a human hide, daubed crudely with blood.

(https://i.imgur.com/HqmbEqq.jpg)

“Have a care!” whispered Nofri, needlessly, as the three of them halted. “There are more here, and these aren’t chained.”

“I don’t see anyone to command them,” said Benedetto, squinting against the grey-glare of the sky. “I was right. This place is swarming with zombies, and not because some vampire is leading them to war, but because the land is thoroughly cursed.”

(https://i.imgur.com/mMlzcq8.jpg)

Each of them adjusted their match and blew on their coals, in readiness, while straining their eyes to take in the details. Beside the bearer of the grisly standard stood an armoured figure, in mail and plates of some strange and archaic design. Such might be expected on the animated bones of long dead warriors, but not on the still rotting carcasses of zombies. Nofri wondered if the bog waters had preserved the corpse’s flesh over the centuries.

(https://i.imgur.com/F9uhBXf.jpg)

The closest zombie seemed to be looking at them with malicious intent, but what else would such a creature feel? It clutched a long staff upon which two blades had been clumsily tied, as if to make kitchen tools and a staff into a polearm. Perhaps some ancient dweller of these parts had been forced in desperate circumstances to fabricate the makeshift weapon when faced with wicked foes, only now to become that which he had once fought?

No wonder he looks so annoyed, thought Nofri.

(https://i.imgur.com/N5VfRzh.jpg)

The clutch of zombies to the left also carried odd-looking weapons, of equally long proportions. Nofri suspected they had all died together in the same incident, during which encounter they had presumed, for whatever reason, that they would be best armed with very long weapons. Perhaps they had been trying to keep zombies at bay? Or even attempting to round them up? Whatever they had intended, they had presumably failed, and died clutching their unusual weapons. Now, in undeath, they had found those weapons quite literally ‘to hand’.

(https://i.imgur.com/9Q2JT31.jpg)

“Right,” Benedetto said. “We’ve seen the ruins. We know what’s here. There’s no need to get any closer. I say we skirt around the rocks rather than head straight for them. I don’t fancy finding out if those blades have kept their edge!”

The other two said nothing, instead just loping off after him as he altered course. They moved less cautiously now, splashing through the muddy waters, stumbling occasionally. They removed their matches from the serpentines to clutch in their left hands, so as not to cause an accidental firing. Even just the noise such a shot would make worried them, never mind the damage they might do to each other, for like Benedetto had said, they did not want to advertise their presence to all within a mile. They could see the southern spur of the rocks they had intended to pass through and made for that.

Suddenly Benedetto, who had taken the lead momentarily, halted, raised his hand and shouted: “No!”

Nofri and Zanobi stopped also.

(https://i.imgur.com/JgcCram.jpg)

“Not this way either,” Benedetto added. “This place is swarming with the devils.”

Up ahead was a pond, upon the far side of which were more zombies. A score or more, reckoned Nofri.

(https://i.imgur.com/GLeEWU2.jpg)

“Too many,” said Zanobi, breathlessly. “There’s too many!”

Nofri glanced at his friend. “Fear not, Zanobi. They’re not known for speed, and they’re on the wrong side of that pond.”

“Aye, but they’re already coming around,” said Benedetto, affixing his match once more.

The zombies were dividing, some to go one way …

(https://i.imgur.com/yyziJ61.jpg)

… the rest to go the other.

(https://i.imgur.com/IcM6cSC.jpg)

Nofri could see that the enemy’s passage was somewhat obstructed by thorny, scrub-bushes, and that they would have to cross a rocky stream before they reached this spot. Emboldened, and regardless of the fact his two companions had already turned to flee, he stood a while, hoping to see who or what, if anyone, commanded this particular mob.

His attention was drawn immediately to a tall figure in the centre, who seemed yet to have decided which way to go.

(https://i.imgur.com/6XGJZ1P.jpg)

The heavily armoured, cloaked warrior carried a huge iron mace and what appeared to be a broken sword. His face was hidden behind his horned-helmet’s steel vizor, so that Nofri had little to go on regarding the true nature of the warrior. It could be a zombie, a vampire or even a living man for all he knew. The manner in which it stood, simply waving its mace about its head, might suggest the dim wits of a zombie, but it could well be the pose of a vampire urging his foul servants on to do the dirty work of fighting for him. Perhaps he knew how worthless his armour would prove against handgun bullets at close range?

“Come on, Nofri!” shouted the others, almost in unison.

The barked command dislodged Nofri from his ill-timed reverie, and he too turned and ran.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on March 25, 2022, 04:31:57 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: More!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 28, 2022, 04:53:01 PM
The Assault on Miragliano
Part One (Deployment)


When Captain-General Lord Alessio had received all his scouts’ reports concerning the approaches to the city, it was obvious that no route was safe, but that one, at least, was potentially better than the rest. The taint of necromantic magic had permeated far beyond the city itself, so that (in places) the marsh and moat veritably teemed with animated corpses. Lord Alessio simply chose a way through which avoided what seemed to be the worst of those accursed spots. It wasn’t where the flooded moat was narrowest, nor where the outlying ground was least boggy, but there were gates in the walls there, which was the only absolute necessity.

(https://i.imgur.com/TRbQ0z7.jpg)

His plan was simple: his army would drag the rafts, as quickly as they could, to the moat’s edge, then launch and ride them to the walls. Most rafts would carry ladder armed companies, but the two heaviest had siege towers and the next heaviest carried a ram. Lord Alessio was hoping that sheer weight of numbers would allow his army to overwhelm the enemy, which in truth had been part of his strategic planning from the very start of the campaign against the undead.

(https://i.imgur.com/bOXrThA.jpg)

He deployed most of his missile troops on the left, including his own Portomaggioran handgunners and crossbowmen (the latter commanded by Captain Lupo ‘The Wolf’ Lorenzo), as well as the Reman crossbow regiments, both men and dwarfs. The VMC’s handgunner detachments, he allowed to accompany their pike regiment on the far right, along with their independent handgunner regiment. He had lost all but one cannon on the march hither, and had been denied artillery reinforcement by the VMC commander’s strange decision to send only foot troops to support him. He placed this last piece on the far left, to play against the gate as best it could and, should it prove necessary, to fire upon anything monstrous emerging from the foul waters.

(https://i.imgur.com/yShspUg.jpg)

His intention was that such a weight of shot and bolt on the left would disrupt or destroy any enemy attempting to flank his assaulting troops either in the moat or the marsh. Surely very little could withstand the combined firepower of over sixty handguns and crossbows plus a heavy artillery piece?

(https://i.imgur.com/DnyUu08.jpg)

The dwarf warriors, captained by the Kislevite commander of the Reman brigade, Soldatovya, were (like every melee regiment) equipped with a raft, and if necessary would be available to engage an enemy on the water …

(https://i.imgur.com/BTlwBJB.jpg)

… while the skirmishing bravi were ordered to protect the gun from anything approaching from the flank or rear. The VMC apprentice wizard Serafina added a magical element to that flank, and the Reman Morrite priest Bernhardt (also with the dwarven warriors) should bolster the soldiers’ resolve in the face of the undead foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/rcylPSo.jpg)
On the right, where his main fighting regiments were placed with the bigger rafts and the siege tower rafts, there was the re-sanctified carroccio. This, the general hoped, would lift the soldiers’ spirits, by channelling the mystical blessings of Morr, while the rather more mundane VMC ogres, led by the infamous Ogbut, were to smash through the gate with their raft-mounted ram.

(https://i.imgur.com/CtYVfbM.jpg)

Alessio’s largest Portomaggioran regiment, the spears, took position in the very centre of the line.

(https://i.imgur.com/RtILkzG.jpg)

Such was their weight of numbers that he was happy to have them commanded only by their own champion. They would flank the ram, so that if anything were to attack from the waters, they might prevent it interfering with it. Then, of course, should the ram prove capable of smashing through the gates, they would join the ogres to swarm through immediately, crossing from their raft.

(https://i.imgur.com/r6BMNTj.jpg)

General Lord Alessio himself was with his Sea Wolf guard regiment, atop the siege tower from where he could scrutinise the entire line. Beside him strode the colossus, taller even than the tower top, and entirely capable (the wizard Lord Hakim had reassured him) of fording the moat waters.

(https://i.imgur.com/8huoQFE.jpg)

To the general’s right, the crew of the carroccio had been ordered to get as close as was safe to the water’s edge, so that the holy aura of the relics contained within its chest would remain near enough to the fighting men that they felt its inspiring vigour.

(https://i.imgur.com/wHHojGF.jpg)

The enemy had distributed its strength across the full length of the walls facing the assaulting alliance army.

(https://i.imgur.com/jGYlIU2.jpg)

Ghouls and zombies swarmed on most of the walls, in some cases so numerous that they could not all fit upon the parapet, while the flanking walls contained even more disturbing defenders, nightmarishly ethereal in form. The vampire priest of Nagash, Biagino, was hidden away inside one of the towers, as were his two necromantic lieutenants. He presumably saw no need to subject himself to the attentions of enemy shooting, although unlike at Ebino, he had not commanded his regimented warriors to remain hidden behind the walls. Perhaps the defeat he suffered there meant he now thought the tactic worthless. If it failed to help him previously, why employ it again? Or perhaps he believed the enemy might become dismayed by the numbers on the walls? Being an alliance force suggested the possibility that particular parts might refuse to fight as hard as the rest.

(https://i.imgur.com/Z5YkTkP.jpg)

Fell bats awaited behind the far-right wall, beneath the Cairn Wraiths atop the parapet, chittering and flapping their wings in anticipation. The wraiths, in contrast, moved silently,

(https://i.imgur.com/XEWDWWC.jpg)

On the far-left wall, ghostly manifestations swirled eerily about each other …

(https://i.imgur.com/0dc5Hjd.jpg)

… presenting the living soldiers across the water with an uncanny glimpse of just how tortured an afterlife could await those unlucky souls who fell under the dominion of vampires.

(https://i.imgur.com/isYkJhS.jpg)

An uncanny light shone about them as they danced and wove around each other vigorously, but it was a brightness of such strange origins that it cast no reflection in the waters below. 



Game Note: This is the field in terms of game play. As per our usual siege/assault rules, the outcome is determined at the end of turn 9 (if the fighting is still ongoing), based on the number of sections each side controls.

(https://i.imgur.com/0AQ1LqN.jpg)

Sections 1, 2, 3, 5 and 6 consist of both a tower and the adjacent wall. Section 4 is the gate tower itself. Sections 7, 8 and 9 consist of three equally large portions of the city’s interior.

… Part two to follow asap …
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on March 29, 2022, 01:38:34 AM
Wow!  Quite the terrain set up there for that scenario.  I look forward to seeing how the game plays out. :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 30, 2022, 12:50:36 PM
The Assault on Miragliano
Part Two (The Assault Begins)


As swirling spirits danced mystical around the crenelations, as if to lure the enemy towards them …

(https://i.imgur.com/QOr5VM1.jpg)

… elsewhere along the walls, the defenders stood peering and leering over the parapet, their own lurching motions much clumsier. The zombies were almost silent, apart from their effortful gurgling as their ragged throats dragged air to and fro from their rotting lights.

(https://i.imgur.com/5twn8er.jpg)

The ghouls were louder, issuing forth curses and other corrupt words as they thought impatiently of the mountain of flesh they would feast upon when the battle was done.

(https://i.imgur.com/Qzti3Eb.jpg)

Biagino sensed the failure of one of his lieutenants to employ necromantic magic, and so before the other could wastefully sap the winds of magic further, he cast Invocation of Nehek to summon up more than a score of zombies, so bolstering the regiments defending the walls on either side of his tower.

(https://i.imgur.com/xpgf0az.jpg)

Satisfied, and having willed not one of his servants to take so much as a step, he watched as the enemy began to draw closer. Not all moved, certainly not those with bows or guns, but the dwarfs pushed their raft closer, as did the large regiments propelling the ram and siege tower rafts.

(https://i.imgur.com/GialWnH.jpg)

Several other large regiments stood their ground, for want of opportunity to advance, what with so many others in the way. The grey-clad Marienburger pikemen of the VMC brigade simply watched from behind.

(https://i.imgur.com/H4QNAVJ.jpg)

Of the umpteen conjurations attempted by the alliance army’s magic users, only Wizard Lord Hakim’s spell, Shem’s Burning Gaze, was successful in harming the foe, causing a good quarter of the spirit host to dissipate from this realm whence they came. The handgunners were as yet unable to find a target, and of the crossbowmen, only Lupo and his Portomaggiorans found their mark, felling a handful of the zombies (unaware that the loss was but a fraction of what had been raised only moments before).

(https://i.imgur.com/iQHjwrD.jpg)

When the Remans behind, shooting over the Portomaggioran’s heads, failed to add a single zombie’s demise to the tally, they began to wonder what magical blessing was guiding the bolts launched by Lupo’s men.

(https://i.imgur.com/ekafVw4.jpg)

(Game Note: Campaign Mercenary Combat Skill: ‘Superior Markmanship’ – The unit the character is with ignores cover.)

Biagino had noticed the small yet surprising number of casualties also, and with a mental gesture, commanded the cairn-wraiths to dismount the wall and await the foe unseen, just in case the enemy’s bolts were indeed blessed with some magical power.

(https://i.imgur.com/swaqNxK.jpg)

Once he was satisfied they had done so, he looked from the window and descried that a swarm of bats had swooped from the marshes to the rear of the enemy’s line.

(https://i.imgur.com/DTi1zhY.jpg)

They were close to the artillery piece, which pleased him, so he focused his malignantly magical will upon them to make sure that their first action would be to attack the crew.

(https://i.imgur.com/bj4lsUj.jpg)

Their arrival reminded him of the zombies who inhabited the marshland. He knew this would be exactly the right moment for them also to arrive at the enemy’s rear, before the rafts had been launched to carry the soldiers out of reach. Closing his eyes, he muttered the words of an incantation to call on them, but as the magical current flowed aimless away he sensed immediately that there were none within reach.

Game Note:
Quote
House rules for the Marsh Zombies

This zombie horde lurks in the marsh, already re-animated by the necromantic energies spilling from the city. The vampire player may pick any spot on the table on the far side of the moat and attempt a ‘Raise Dead’ spell, needing a wizard who can do the spell. The spot does not have to be within 18” of the wizard, because the zombies are already wandering the marsh somewhere, just ‘itching’ to be prompted into action. Also, the player doesn’t roll 2D6+3 but gets the whole regiment of 36. The vampire player can only try this twice, after which it is clear the horde is not nearby, and so any further ‘Raise Dead’ spells work as normal, in which case the figures are used to represent whatever is raised (if anything).

36 Zombies - M4 WS1 BS0 S3 T3 W1  I1 A1 Ld2  //  Musician; Standard Bearer; All zombie rules, but also unit does NOT suffer any Marshland Dangerous Terrain effects! They’ve gotten used to the terrain.

Nevertheless, he peered through the window (of the dank tower chamber he was hiding in) to spot any sign of them.

(https://i.imgur.com/IPHxVcR.jpg)

Nothing. He cursed angrily, then dismissed his frustration and (along with one of his lieutenants) simply summoned yet more zombies to swell the rank and file of his wall defenders. He was damned if he would yield this city easily.

(https://i.imgur.com/YmtMgKo.jpg)

With little to shoot at upon the walls, and nothing yet to appear in the moat, the Reman crossbow regiments (dwarf and human) and the Lord Alessio’s handgunners, turned to face the swarming bats. More crucially, perhaps, so did the Reman ‘bravi’ swordsmen, ensuring that the bats could not reach the gun except by taking on them!

(https://i.imgur.com/2SkDUHJ.jpg)

Further along the line, Ogbut’s ogres reached the moat, heaved their raft onto it and mounted it in readiness for the crossing.

(https://i.imgur.com/x6Y9N1C.jpg)

Game Note:
Quote
Raft rules (second draft after player consultation)

The rafts are carried by units to the moat’s edge, which should be about 5-6” away from the allied army deployment line. Upon reaching the moat’s edge, the raft is set down ready for embarkation, and the unit auto moves onto the raft (if the player wishes). Units cannot march whilst lugging the rafts. The three heavy rafts must be accompanied by large units, who move at -1 mvmt penalty whilst dragging them to the moat’s edge (like rams in 3rd ed WFB).

Once at the moat’s edge the rafts are placed on the water (thus extending 4”, 6” or 8” into the moat, depending on the raft) and the unit moves onto the raft at the end of the turn they reached the moat.

Once on the moat, the rafts (large or small) are moved by the soldiers on board paddling and punting as best they can. The big rafts roll 2D3” initial movement, due to the delay in the unit boarding. The smallest rafts roll 3D3”. All rafts can opt to move up to D6” less (rolling another dice) if they wish to slow down or stop. Big rafts that moved in the previous turn, moves 2D6”, the small rafts 2D6+2”.

The thoroughly flooded moat area should be on average 17” across … so considering the largest raft, when placed, will already extend 8” across by being placed, it will thus have only 9” to move. The other large ones extend 6”out, so 11” to move. They thus should take 2 or 3 turns crossing the moat. If a raft arrives at a wall with any move distance to spare then the unit counts as having charged the wall – and a ladder/tower/battering ram assault immediately commences.

The rafts can turn as per the old 3rd ed WFB chariot rules, the large ones (most of them) using an arc equal to their movement distance, the smaller ones using an arc of half their move distance. Arcs are closed if they contact the wall.

On reaching the wall, the men aboard will fasten them up and they become platforms from which to launch ladder assaults. The ram, siege towers and ladders all use the old 6th ed Siege Rules.

The assault game will be 9 turns long. If the attackers take 2 turns to arrive at the water’s edge, then 2-4 turns to cross the moat, they could be attacking the defences sometime from turns 4 to 6, thus with 3 to 5 turns of combat.

Magic users and missile troops can support as best they can, from the moat’s edge, or rafts. Probably the moat’s edge for missiles. Or they just join the assault. The city defences will be in defined sections as per the usual rules.

This moat is not like Ebino’s, as this one has silted up a bit, and also flooded to cover a large area (thus it’s new width). Thus the Colossus can wade through both the marsh and the moat. It would take dangerous terrain tests only if it marched, charged, fled or pursued. (I wish the model had a detachable torso cos it would look cool wading waist deep! I know Damian, who has a spare, actually considered sawing the spare in half and painting it.)

(Luckily, I managed to edit the subsequent photo of the colossus to show it starting to wade into the murky waters.)

The magical construct known as the Colossus, guided as ever by its creator the Wizard Lord Hakim, now also began to wade, somewhat tentatively for such a massive creation, into the waters.

(https://i.imgur.com/LP8uzgP.jpg)

(Magic 12:6)

Serafina’s fireball killed but one single bat amongst the swarm, having veered to one side so that it barely singed the rest. The Morrite cleric, Bendali, who had entirely failed to notice the bats’ arrival, employed his Amulet of Coal to send his own fireball to burst into the parapet and wash flames over, killing no less than ten zombies.

(https://i.imgur.com/5yp3tFY.jpg)

His happiness was only slightly marred by the fact that the Amulet shattered in the process. Annoyed that he had not thought to do so first, he now cast Morr’s Touch upon the surviving zombies, weakening them.

The Colossus cast Shem’s Burning Gaze on the ghouls, but Biagino was quick enough to dispel it. Lord Hakim tried again where his servant had failed, and this time killed two of the enemy. The rest of the ghouls seemed not to care a jot, nor even to notice their comrades’ demise.

(https://i.imgur.com/s6XCdNZ.jpg)

Lupo’s crossbowmen, despite their blessed weapons and the enemy’s magically induced weakness, now slew less of the zombies than previously, much to their confusion. The gun crew had yet to fire, having been waiting for the monsters they were told lurked in the moat. Now, however, they decided the bats were a priority, and turned their piece to fire. They were over-hasty, however, and sent the shot into the dirt!

Turns 3 onwards to follow ASAP.

Appendix

Quote
Biagino's Last Stand Army (1651 pts)

Biagino (Vampire Lord; General; Level 2 Wizard)
Book of Arkhan (Vanhel's Danse Macabre); Talisman of Preservation; Aura of Dark Majesty

Necromancer (Level 2 Wizard; Master of the Dead)
Dispel Scroll; Ruby Ring of Ruin

Necromancer (Level 1 Wizard)
Talisman of Endurance

Cairn Wraith (1#, 60 pts)
   1 Cairn Wraith, 60 pts (Great Weapon; Chill Grasp; Ethereal; Immune to Psychology; Terror; Unbreakable; Undead; Unstable; Always Strikes Last)

2 Cairn Wraith characters

30 Crypt Ghouls with Crypt Ghast

4 Cairn Wraiths as a unit

4 Spirit Hosts

40 Zombies (Musician; Standard Bearer)
Split into two bodies of 20 to defend walls (as allowed in campaign rules)

6 Fell Bats
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Zygmund on March 31, 2022, 01:59:51 PM
After a long time, spent a cold afternoon reading these reports. Thanks, Padre, it's always a pleasure!

-Z
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: KTG17 on April 05, 2022, 03:21:05 PM
I gather some of these figures are not GW... where are you getting them all from?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 05, 2022, 09:32:45 PM
My collection of figures, being many fully painted armies, umpteen 'brigades' and a heck of a lot of civilians and adventurers, includes ...

Midlam Miniatures
Black Tree Designs
Forlorn Hope (Fantasy Warriors)
Renegade Miniatures
Perry Miniatures, metal & plastic
Casting Room Miniatures
Grenadier Fantasy Lords
Wargames Foundry
Crusader Miniatures
Bridge Miniatures
Warrior Miniatures
Prince August
Mantic Games
Irregular Miniatures
Essex Miniatures
Northstar
Alternative Armies
Reaper Metals
Bridge Miniatures
Old Glory
Mirliton
Warlord Games
Vendel
Eureka Miniatures

There are several more manufacturers too, but I am all in a muddle now!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on April 05, 2022, 09:57:39 PM
Ask, and you shall receive. :icon_mrgreen: :icon_lol: :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 07, 2022, 06:48:47 PM
The Assault on Miragliano
Part Three (The Assault Continues)


The swarming bats in the rear of the allies’ line now swooped in an arc to attack the smaller of the two handgun companies, not the bravi before the gun.

(https://i.imgur.com/M4blZ44.jpg)

Zanobi, Benedetto and Nofri were in the front rank as the swarm came at them, and the sudden proximity of such fearful foes made their legs weaken, their stomachs churn. Those in the company whose pieces were made ready gave fire, but to no particularly noticeable effect.

(https://i.imgur.com/yA2Zdhw.jpg)

When the bats hit them, they became engulfed in a tangle of fur and leathery wings, then pierced all over by claws and teeth. All three were killed, as well as another of their comrades. Those handgunners who survived this initial onslaught failed entirely in their attempts to flee. Indeed, the swarm’s progress was barely slowed by the bloody contact, and as the last of the handgunners splashed lifeless into the soggy ground, the bats crashed into other company. It was all so quick that the second company never even fired a single shot! Barely half managed to draw their blades, the rest making do with the butt of their handguns as the swarm hit them.

Frustrated that he could see so little through the leaded-glass window of the tower chamber, Biagino burst through the door and plunged into the mass of zombies swarming upon the parapet, there to hide amongst them.

(https://i.imgur.com/I9tVZx0.jpg)

Having attempted twice to call the zombies of the swamp, without sensing their presence at all, he now knew that wherever they were, it was too far for them to be brought to the field of battle. He sensed his lieutenant’s magical conjuring and guessed it was another attempt to lure one of the leviathans inhabiting the moat. But nothing came of it, and so he too stared into the water as he wrestled with the winds of magic to make them conform to his own will. He too failed, as the enemy had several wizards, one of whom employed a counter spell to unwind and wash away the winds before they could sufficiently coalesce in the material realm.

(Game Note: First attempt to raise the Leviathon dispel scrolled; second stopped with a 6D dispel roll of 24.)

Game Note:
Quote
Rotting Leviathans (from the old ‘Luthor Harkon’ White Dwarf army)

These dwell in the expanded moat, being the preserved remains of ‘crab-like Prometheans’ which rose to the surface during the time of the corruption of Miragliano, carried in by the flood waters.

In their own magic phase, the vampire player may choose a spot in the moat, then roll a scatter die & 2D6 for the distance. (If the spot goes off-table, then the beast can appear in the vampire player’s next turn, as an ‘Ambusher’ (p.79) /‘Reinforcement’ (p.27), arriving within 6” of the point at which the line crossed the table edge, if it gets its 3+ roll.) If the spot is on the table, the player then rolls 1D6 & on a roll of 6, a Leviathan appears. Before rolling the D6, however, they can bolster this attempt by successfully casting Invocation of Nehek on 12+ or 18+ depending on if the beast is raised between 6 and 12 or between 12 and 18 inches away, measuring from the caster to the point in the moat. On a successful casting, the beast appears on a D6 roll of 4, 5 or 6. If the spell fails, the attempt to lure the beast up has hindered the rising, so the player cannot even roll the D6 for a 6 chance. They can try again next and subsequent turns, on 5,6 chance or 3+ using Invocation. (A successful dispelling will thus stop their appearance, or a failed D6 roll.)

If the player is successful, they may attempt summon the other creature in another turn, or even in the same turn if they have another wizard who can cast Invocation of Nehek. Once both leviathans have been raised, however, there are no more others nearby to raise. Note that calling one from beyond the table edge might be the better tactic, but still with a potentially indefinite delay!

Rotting Leviathan – Stats, attributes and special rules as per the old White Dwarf list.

The apprentice wizard Serafina was unnerved by all the deaths so close to her and ran back towards the high ground in the rear, struggling all along to cross the difficult ground.

(Game Note: Anything more than a normal move in the marsh meant taking a dangerous terrain test.)

As the colossus and the ram-raft drew closer to the city walls …

(https://i.imgur.com/FdfbSP0.jpg)

… the dismounted knights mounted the siege tower.

(https://i.imgur.com/eeGogem.jpg)

They were commanded by Lord Marcus Portelli, who had been wounded in at Ebino. Despite requiring help to climb the ladder, he nevertheless projected a fearlessness which inspired his men, and he looked the very essence of a warrior as he took his place at the front, leaning upon his huge, iron-barbed mace.

(https://i.imgur.com/BaUZqCi.jpg)

While Father Bernhardt prayed for Morr to protect the dwarf warriors, only one wizardly spell successfully pierced the mystical defences mustered by the vampire and his lieutenants. Five ghouls tumbled from the wall as a banishment took grip on them, yet still, the rest showed no sign of caring, nor even noticing.

(https://i.imgur.com/bez7yQo.jpg)

Lupo’s crossbowmen slew five more zombies …

(https://i.imgur.com/BurzLmf.jpg)

… but like the ghouls, the remainder just peered through the crenelations, entirely ignorant of their fellow defenders’ second demise.

(https://i.imgur.com/iH5yNQZ.jpg)

Biagino noticed, however, and in a fit of anger he ordered the fell bats and the cairn-wraiths to burst from the defences onto moat, from where they could charge at the foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/uKo1LAC.jpg)

The wraiths moved ethereally through the very stones, to glide eerily and terrifyingly over the water towards the raft carrying the Reman dwarfs, Father Bernhardt and Captain Soldatovya …

(https://i.imgur.com/lXha1Gb.jpg)

… while the monstrous bats flew speedily across the full width of the moat towards the handgunners already engaged with their smaller kin.

(https://i.imgur.com/ZTyiItK.jpg)

Inside the city, the diminished host of spirits drifted towards the gate tower, while the similarly reduced company of ghouls moved to take the spot on the far-left wall the spirits had recently departed. One or two amongst them seem somewhat put out at being commanded so to move, having previously been greedily eyeing the approaching foe.

(https://i.imgur.com/46XskYo.jpg)

When they discovered enemies were also approaching this new wall, they satisfied themselves that they had not been denied their share of flesh-meat!

Biagino could now clearly see the approaching dwarfs and the enemies crossing further along the moat. If the deadly cairn-wraiths made short work of dispatching the dwarfs, then it was likely they could move on to one or even more the other rafts before the enemy reached the walls. So it was he attempted to conjure a curse to weaken the foe, only to fumble it when momentarily distracted. While several more spells were either foiled or simply failed, including a further attempt to lure the moat-dwelling leviathans, ever more zombies were successfully raised to swell the horde now defending two stretches of the wall.

(https://i.imgur.com/3nsd83X.jpg)

The swarming bats quickly sapped the second body of handgunners’ will to fight, killing all who fled away as they became mired in the stinking mud.  This meant the fell bats could swoop down on a clear run towards the cannon crew. Yet despite this success, the massive bulk of the enemy lay further along the moat, and so far, there had been no hindrance at all to its passage. The large regiment of Portomaggioran spearmen, who had so bravely assaulted the gate at Ebino after it had been blown to pieces by siege-master Guccio’s petard, recently reinforced with the survivors of several no longer field-worthy companies and regiments, had already boarded a large raft to commence their own crossing.

(https://i.imgur.com/gg6vsZx.jpg)

Desperate to avoid a moat-top combat with the nightmarish wraiths, Captain Soldatovya ordered his mercenary dwarfs to propel the raft as speedily as possible, even if it endangered the lives of some of those aboard.

(https://i.imgur.com/cJk2efE.jpg)

He was praying they would pass by before the ghastly creatures could sweep around at them.

(https://i.imgur.com/PNGjhXc.jpg)

With a sinking heart, the Kislevite captain recognised their progress was just too slow. Clutching his blade tight, he turned to look at the foe, wracking his brains at how he might survive the inevitable encounter, when suddenly four of the foul spirits disappeared, as a storm of bolts came whistling through the air from Lupo’s crossbowmen. This confused him, for such mundane missiles would not normally be expected to harm ethereal beings.

(https://i.imgur.com/f11d4dV.jpg)

Serafina had halted her flight and was the first wizard to notice the wraiths. She failed, however, in her subsequent attempt to manifest fireballs to hurl at them. That failure, however, was perceived by her master, the wizard lord Johannes Deeter, who was close to the carroccio. When he looked through the leafless trees to see what Serafina had been attempting to harm, he too saw the wraiths. Being well versed in the art of fire magic, he immediately conjured a ‘Rhuinous’ blessing upon Lupo’s crossbowmen, so that their bolts would carry just enough magic to sting the foe, despite their ghostly nature. And sting they did, enough to slay more than half.

(https://i.imgur.com/XQLEb0A.jpg)

An enchanted round-shot was also blasted at the wraiths, but it missed and instead crunched into the wall beyond, while the rest of the allies’ crossbowmen brought down merely a handful of bats and zombies. Even the gunners on the carroccio blasted their swivels at the wall, but again, with little effect. The Ogres, however, had already reached the gate, and had begun swinging the ram to crash repeatedly into the iron-bound, anciently-hard oak. They did not yet know that they were going to be there a long time, for the gate was strong.

(https://i.imgur.com/SGO0duT.jpg)

The last two wraiths now did exactly what Soldatovya feared and tore into the exposed flank of the dwarfs on the raft.

(https://i.imgur.com/hu8ymTO.jpg)

The raft tipped precariously to one side, as Soldatovya, clad head to toe in armour, knew there was little he could now do but pray for his own soul.

(https://i.imgur.com/XPEGUQU.jpg)

The Kislevite veteran, the portly priest Bendali and each and every dwarf upon the raft would be dead or dying within moments, most taking only as long as it took for the air to run out in their lungs as they fell like stones into the stagnant but deep moat water.

The fell bats swooped gracefully to smash into the artillerist Captain Hans Weidmuller and his cannon crew.

(https://i.imgur.com/Ggoab7n.jpg)

The crew died quickly, while Hans put up a little more of a fight. Bleeding from his wounds, he turned to flee, pursued by the unthinking creatures, and died from their attentions. His demise was unwitnessed by any in the allied army.

While the swirling spirits occupied the gate tower, the bat swarm hove back into view and flew towards the rear of the dwarf crossbowmen.

(https://i.imgur.com/cFkR3L7.jpg)

Biagino concentrated wholly upon his magical efforts and summoned up nigh upon a score more zombies to further swell those on and behind the walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/Yhqitwe.jpg)

He even returned a cairn-wraith into the mortal realm. Beyond these successes, however, nothing he nor his lieutenants tried proved effective, so that still no leviathon could be hailed to attack the multitude of enemies now teeming precariously upon the moat.

As the allies all drew ever closer to the walls, some rafts moving quicker than others.

(https://i.imgur.com/VbADrF4.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/JkC8Mpq.jpg)

Serafina, having found an inner peace despite the terrors of the marsh, sent a streaming blast of fireballs into the wraiths, and burned away all trace of them from the waking world.

(https://i.imgur.com/L9T0Jx3.jpg)

This left only the bats, large and small, outside the walls, caught up with harassing the crossbowmen at the far left of the allied line. There was nothing now to even slow the massed rank and file in their journey to the walls.

As the living wizards cast magical blessings on the large regiments, Lupo directed his crossbowmen to slay more and more of the zombies …

(https://i.imgur.com/xE65KsR.jpg)

… while Lord Marcus drew even closer to the wall …

(https://i.imgur.com/3ZZ82XM.jpg)

… and the VMC pike regiment crowded on their raft behind waiting their time to climb the siege tower’s ladders and mount the walls.

(https://i.imgur.com/JlMtElF.jpg)

The captain-general, Lord Alessio, had already reached the far-left wall, and immediately set about assaulting the ghouls defending it.

(https://i.imgur.com/98i9ccD.jpg)

Despite being fully armoured, he leapt from the platform-top of the siege tower to crash into the foul creatures massed on the parapet, the magical glare of his shield dazzling and paining the ghouls’ eyes. His men followed quickly and obediently, and the slaughter was great, with three of the Sea Wolves falling, but many, many more ghouls. If they had not already suffered injuries to magical attacks, the foul flesh eaters might have delayed the Portomaggioran soldiers a little longer, but they simply did not have the numbers, and Lord Alessio quickly took full possession of the wall.

Despite the moat, despite the marsh, the living were already in the city.

As the bat swarms swooped between the crossbow regiments …

(https://i.imgur.com/cFkR3L7.jpg)

… the fell bats also careened around at the rear looking for another company to attack.

Biagino cursed and cursed again as neither he nor his lieutenants could summon the leviathans, nor could they manifest any other magic to thwart the enemy. He heard the enemy’s cheers and knew they must have taken at least one wall, and despite having raised a veritable host of zombies to defend two other stretches …

(https://i.imgur.com/SRBU0aq.jpg)

… he knew full well that they could only ever buy him time, not victory.

(https://i.imgur.com/5twn8er.jpg)

The foe was too numerous, and the force left to him entirely insufficient to the task of holding the city. Suddenly he felt an etheric heat and strained to look down into the yard. The colossus was obviously able to see over the walls and had burned away almost all the spirits with a magical gaze, leaving but a handful hidden beneath the stone arch.

(https://i.imgur.com/kgvFzkN.jpg)

Out beyond the moat, the bats had concentrated their last assault on the dwarven crossbows …

(https://i.imgur.com/cV7JEAc.jpg)

… but found them to be a much harder challenge than the handgunners and cannon crew. Meanwhile, Lord Alessio had already led his men from the first wall through the tower and onto the next, before the dismounted knights could mount it from their own siege tower. There Alessio and his men lay furiously into the first large body of zombies, finding the work a tiring but simple act of butchery.

(https://i.imgur.com/hKxHgay.jpg)

Lord Marcus could only watch as his master hacked and slashed through the stinking mass of rotten flesh, and the Portomaggioran army-standard moved across the wall right in front of him.

(https://i.imgur.com/dBp3Vl4.jpg)

It was clear the city was lost.

Every one of Biagino’s cards had been played. The bumper crop he had expected from the corpse-filled, foetid marsh and moat, had proved entirely disappointing.

He had been chased from the very heart of Tilea all the way to Miragliano, and now he knew that if he was to (un)live any longer, he must flee yet again, right now, before the enemy could reach him.

And flee he did.

(https://i.imgur.com/C8xMfSl.jpg)

He knew not whether he would go to the marsh or the mountains, but he did not have time to ponder the matter.

The last of the vampires’ possessions, the once great city of Miragliano, had finally fallen. And so the great war against the Undead had ended.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on April 07, 2022, 07:19:57 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: Well done! That was some unlucky magic rolls.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 07, 2022, 07:22:12 PM
It really was. Both sides were disappointed that the monsters and zombies didn't appear to make it way more exciting.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 16, 2022, 10:35:19 AM
Tilea's Troubles, Part 34 is up on YouTube : https://youtu.be/ICmxp3FNzNE
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on April 18, 2022, 04:20:17 PM
Ooooh what's in the forest? Also I like your goblin voice! :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 18, 2022, 04:50:35 PM
Technically it's my 'gnoblar' voice, as I did not hold my nose when doing the the more 'common' goblins in the earlier videos. I thought the gnoblars all looked very 'nasal'!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on April 18, 2022, 08:59:56 PM
Oh, and the forest has elves. Tricky wood elves, on their home turf. You'd have to be mad to go in there and cause trouble!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on May 06, 2022, 06:52:22 AM
New behind the scenes video eh. The big sweepy things from the front of trains in cowboy films are called cowcatchers Padre.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 06, 2022, 07:14:56 AM
I plead an age-related memory fail. At least I still remember that they are happening more often.

Interesting that catching cows doesn't include them being caught after the act. Got to love the historical subtleties of words.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on May 06, 2022, 11:33:59 AM
Interestingly from the wikipedia article the cowcatcher was first invented in the UK but never built.  Most European rail systems didn't use them in the classic steam train era but as is noted:

Quote
In the UK small metal bars called life-guards, rail guards or guard irons are provided immediately in front of the wheels. They knock away smaller obstacles lying directly on the running surface of the railhead. Historically, fenced-off railway systems in Europe relied exclusively on those devices and cowcatchers were not required, but in modern systems cowcatchers have generally superseded them.

Also the Padre version of "like and subscribe" in your video is very on brand.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 10, 2022, 07:37:26 PM
And now Part 35 of Tilea's Troubles is also up!

Two Compagnia del Sole mercenaries, Baccio and Ottaviano, are in a predicament, albeit one which involves chatting in an alehouse. So, not that bad then!

https://youtu.be/G4rcU9Nvhes

(https://i.imgur.com/XuU5ekW.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/lALXPnK.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/iYgKgiU.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 19, 2022, 05:22:05 PM
'A Need For Nightmares', being Part 36 of Tilea's Troubles, is now up. Nightmares in both the sleeping and the waking worlds! And some Oldhammer figures in the mix.

https://youtu.be/93TT3eRgOdk

(https://i.imgur.com/xyqVaSE.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/YNS2zjk.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on May 21, 2022, 01:20:29 PM
I'm late to this.
Great job. I love the zombie with the noose around his neck
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on May 25, 2022, 08:39:14 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:  I look forward to these!
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on May 29, 2022, 10:30:06 PM
Thanks muchly guys.

Tilea's Troubles, Part 37 is up, being some connecting stories. Goblin Big Boss Gurmliss returns, and the 'Sons of the Desert' make their way to Remas.

See: https://youtu.be/HJiLALROqU8

(https://i.imgur.com/GYR2yQZ.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on May 29, 2022, 11:26:40 PM
 :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:  Can you work faster?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 20, 2022, 08:42:57 PM
Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. This time I got distracted by my 'present day' GMing duties (still incomplete) and much preparing of models to paint!!

Yet ...

Tilea's Troubles, Part 38 is done. See - https://youtu.be/IhfTg9xchD0
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on June 22, 2022, 02:45:11 PM
Another great episode! I look forward to these!  :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on June 23, 2022, 03:27:50 PM
Very kind of you to say Perambulator.

Here is the new special modelling and painting video (number 3), packed with pikes.

https://youtu.be/67PnAMEmLdA
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: KTG17 on July 07, 2022, 02:08:13 PM
Part 4 just showed up in my suggested vids on my YouTube page. First time one of these vids has ever shown up there.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 13, 2022, 09:39:19 PM
This may be my last post here. I am thinking about properly departing as have so many others I know (and liked).

But for now, and because Perambulator liked my last video: the next part of Tilea's Troubles, Part 39, a two part prequel to a battle report, is up. Find it at ...

https://youtu.be/Ju8asZ_WDGE

Some scenes ...

(https://i.imgur.com/00OJQAg.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/aqMIAB2.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/2m3wD7r.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Perambulator on July 14, 2022, 03:49:39 AM
Great as usual!  :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:  I hope you're still going to be posting new videos on YouTube. I'm following you there so even if you stop here, I'll still see them there. TBH, I'm thinking of stepping away as well. The heart has gone out of this place and I don't need to have any more toxicity than I have to.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 14, 2022, 09:18:35 AM
This place is what we make of it.  When folks give up and leave, the loss of the their contributions is crumbling to the community, and we are all at a greater loss as a result.  I see some folks returning to this place hoping it will be the same, except over time things change, and that means we can stay, contribute, evolve, or leave, and the latter becomes part of the issue ... things change.  Folks will adapt one way or another, or they won't.  Perhaps if GW comes through on their talk about returning to the Olde World, that by itself will help the site as a whole, yet we'll see.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on July 24, 2022, 09:30:25 PM
I won't be 'adapting' to the right wing nastiness on the Back Table though, GP. No-one should.

As for hobby, however, I've been playing WFB since 1st ed 1983 and have no intention of stopping. WFB for life!

A new battle report for Tilea's Troubles is up: The Assault on Viadaza, entitled "Death Becomes Them."

See - https://youtu.be/C68OzxqLkkY

(https://i.imgur.com/P59davA.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/S8TrFDT.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/cMtaarz.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on July 24, 2022, 09:48:56 PM
I won't be 'adapting' to the right wing nastiness on the Back Table though, GP. No-one should.
If my words are turned into the message one wants to use, not really interested in taking responsibility for that here, especially when my comments were looking at a much bigger picture than just the Back Table.

It's a known fact that your contributions are appreciated.  If there is a choice to walk away, that's yours, as is the choice to adapt or not to the broader situation.  As for the Back Table, folks can choose to participate or not, although that's probably stating the obvious.

Whatever choices are made by yourself are yours.  Best of good fortune whatever way such goes. :icon_cool: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 06, 2022, 10:36:20 AM
Tilea's Troubles Part 41 is up. Featuring Arabyans and ogres!

See https://youtu.be/CfS2xFROcWQ

Some pictures ...

(https://i.imgur.com/VpLk8AT.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/m7OnTIq.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/9odPgDT.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on August 07, 2022, 06:06:46 AM
Great job. White is such a nightmare to paint
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 07, 2022, 10:22:47 AM
Not difficult at all with enamels! Even on a black undercoat.

Did you watch the video?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 14, 2022, 01:57:18 PM
At long last I have a report from the campaign's present day, which means my players (hello, guys) should now be able to forward their orders for the new season to me. Here goes ...

An Excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s Work: The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century

The Last Months of Summer, 2404


Having tried but failed to rid the marshes surrounding the city of Miragliano of the foul undead …

(https://i.imgur.com/5hChqNL.jpg)

… the grand alliance army, under the command of Captain-General Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore, had constructed raft-mounted siege towers and a ram …

(https://i.imgur.com/JZGPE7D.jpg)

… while fresh water was carried from the vicinity of Soncino to the army’s camp every day …

(https://i.imgur.com/JBcofsl.jpg)

… hoping thus to stave off the sickness bred by the foul, miasmic vapours. Those who did fall ill were sent the other away to the watchtower, there to breathe untainted air.

(https://i.imgur.com/BlCRXe7.jpg)

All these sensible measures bought his army just enough time to complete the construction of the rafts, after which Lord Alessio ordered the assault to commence forthwith.

(https://i.imgur.com/bOXrThA.jpg)

The battle was hard, but not over-costly to the living. Most of the army’s soldiers praised their general for his haste, for they knew full well that had they tarried longer then sickness would surely have killed many more than died in the assault. The enemy’s walls were captured. The city was taken.

(https://i.imgur.com/3ZZ82XM.jpg)

Many hundreds of the undead were slain, and at long last, notwithstanding the vampire priest Biagino’s escape, it seemed the war against the vampires was finally won.

Despite the foulness of their surroundings, the victorious army was in a celebratory mood, incredulous at their very light losses and glad simply to be alive. The Remans had suffered worst - their commander Lukyan Soldatovya, the priest Bendali and the mercenary dwarfs having all sunk to the bottom of the moats foul waters ….

(https://i.imgur.com/lXha1Gb.jpg)

… while the VMC brigade was almost entirely unharmed.

(https://i.imgur.com/H4QNAVJ.jpg)
Lord Alessio now intended that his soldiers should live – it seemed the least reward they could expect from their grateful commander - but he could not risk wasting his long campaign and hard-won victory. Staying in, or even close to, the tainted city for any length of time, even a few days, would most likely decimate his army or worse. Sixty years before, when the notorious Reman Arch-Lector Frederigo Ordini’s massive alliance army journeyed into the Blighted Marshes, they died almost to a man. The Remans serving Lord Alessio were most concerned, for the story of the army in the marshes was very familiar to them. Nonetheless, Lord Alessio knew full well he could not leave without thoroughly cleansing the city of corruption.

Command of the surviving Remans had fallen to the captain of the mercenary dwarven crossbows, who was unwilling to tarry even one day more, despite the VMC’s Myrmiddian commander, Luccia La Fanciulla’s attempts at persuasion. (Her pleading was not helped by the fact that her second in command, the wizard Johannes Deeter, was just as keen as the Remans to depart immediately.)

(https://i.imgur.com/iad2pCK.jpg)
 
Every drop of water was unsafe, every intake of breath filled the soldiers’ mouths with the rank taste of death. The entire city and the noisome waters surrounding it, stank of rotting flesh. Fat, sluggish, swamp-flies infested the whole land, while not a scrap of edible food remained in the city, nor for leagues around.

(https://i.imgur.com/LMDQE3r.jpg)

The army’s supplies had been stretched to the limits and were now almost wholly depleted, as the soldiers’ homelands were so distant that re-supply had long since become a sporadic, insufficient affair. While the army had passed through living lands, it had supplemented its limited stores by foraging from its surroundings. But that had not been the case since it drew close to Miragliano.

(https://i.imgur.com/dOemDFO.jpg)

Lord Marcus Portelli, the captain-general’s most trusted adviser, declared this accursed realm to be the sort of place in which vile uomini ratto might breed, or goblins would scavenge, or lizard creatures from beyond the seas could dwell, but for men (he waxed poetically) it was:

“A map of misery, a world of woe, a microcosmos of miasmas; with more disease in it than the pest house at plague-time, and a stink worse than the Mayor of Olessi’s dog-house on mid-summer’s day!”

He then suggested that with the wizards’ help, and what flammable supplies still lay within the city (oil, pitch, tar and all such stocks, which he doubted the undead had had any use for), then even such a sodden place might be wholly consumed by fire, leaving only charred and cracked stones.

(https://i.imgur.com/V7k7r5s.jpg)

He also suggested that a new settlement could be built some safe distance to the south or east, to serve as a bastion against any further disturbance in these parts, and as a base from which the slow recovery of the land might be directed. Perhaps from there the work of repairing the dykes and damns might be done, so that gradually, over years, the marsh’s recent expansion would be pushed back.

The captain-general agreed to consider the matter. In the meantime, he ordered the speedy, but thorough, burning of the city, aiming to leave only when it was properly ablaze. Nevertheless, the Remans now marched away - their only Morrite cleric had died in the assault, so there were no magical prayers or blessings they could offer in the cleansing of the city. Nor did they have any black-powder, or any wizard to conjure fire from the etheric winds.

The VMC’s wizards, Johannes Deeter and Serafina Rosa, and the ingenious siege master Captain Guccio, took charge of the preparations, being assigned a third of the army to assist, plus nearly all the remaining powder supplies.

(https://i.imgur.com/kDqC3p7.jpg)

The rest of the army was ordered to search the city for valuable goods, especially gold and silver, as well as locating all the flammable stocks to assist the arsonist contingent.

The resulting conflagration was impressive, as was the amount of plunder - the undead had left most such things as they lay.

(https://i.imgur.com/zTs4OzS.jpg)

When the army marched away, its officers agreed unanimously that the cleansing had been most effective. But any pride they felt was soon sapped, for lingering just those few extra days proved costly. As they marched east along the road to Ebino, the fever became fatal for many, so that every regiment and company suffered losses.

None knew the whereabouts or condition of the vampire Biagino. But, unlike his mistress the duchess Maria, or her sire Duke Alessandro, he had proved repeatedly weak, having fled from fight after fight, so that most were satisfied he had most likely become but one more desperate denizen of the Marshes; a foul monster haunting some noisome valley, like a wild, territorial beast.

(https://i.imgur.com/1dcGKgO.jpg)

The people of Urbimo, who had lived in fear for so long, had somewhat mixed feelings. The war was won, but a vampire still (un)lived. Pietro and Carlo Cybo began pressing the Reman arch-lector to establish some sort of permanent watch over the state of Miragliano, sufficient to thwart any resurgence of vampires.


In the north-east, General Mazallini of the Compagnia del Sole, the governor of Campogrotta, had lost a great many soldiers when the ratmen’s bombard had exploded – including entire regiments of halberdiers and crossbowmen, and two companies of horsemen. Only a handful of survivors had staggered out of the now deadly ground. After the explosion, the Karak Borgo dwarfs marched up the Iron Road …

(https://i.imgur.com/TxcKWSO.jpg)

… and Perrette and the last of the Brabanzon riders departed northwards.

(https://i.imgur.com/5knzoFB.jpg)

Those who dwelt in Sermide and Buldio made their way to the walled city, fearful of another attack. There were bitter disputes between the Compagnia del Sole and the citizens, but, perhaps inevitably, what with the injuries already received, the lack of allies to assist, and the proximity of the rat-men with their terrible new weapons, Mazallini soon ordered what was left of his once army-sized company to march away along the road to the west.

(https://i.imgur.com/y10nO9A.jpg)

As the Compagnia made its miserable progress along the road …

(https://i.imgur.com/knvndJ1.jpg)

… those few who had escaped the battle at the bridge died, after which many more grew similarly sickly …

(https://i.imgur.com/GWV4Exw.jpg)

… for the river Tarano, running beside the road for long stretches, and from which they had been drawing water, proved to have been tainted by the bombard's poison.

(https://i.imgur.com/DW3bhxr.jpg)

They attempted to remedy this by taking water only from the northerly streams feeding the river. They had no new contract, nor any particular destination in mind, but their urge to avoid a miserable death in Campogrotta drove them on.

(https://i.imgur.com/pPOte4C.jpg)

Despite the absence of soldiers to defend the city, apart from the dwarfs camped some distance away at Lugo, the ratmen moved cautiously. Perhaps they were fearful of a trap? Or their own army had suffered in the explosion? Whatever the reason, several weeks passed, while all remaining in Campogrotta feared another explosion, or an assault. When the wind blew southerly, the city air tasted foul, and flesh-meat, fish and fruit rotted unnaturally fast. The populace learned to use only water from upriver, and to eat nothing from south of the river or even close to its banks. Sickness was rife, and some died. None were foolish enough to venture into the poisoned land, where fatal illness could set in within an hour, while others hid their illness until they could do so no more, some even dying suddenly in the streets. 

(https://i.imgur.com/neh6FEO.jpg)

Then, half-way through the last month of summer, the attack came. Tarano Keep was suddenly captured, despite the meagre garrison blowing up part of the bridge with gunpowder.

(https://i.imgur.com/SRyYwib.jpg)

From there, having made the bridge crossable for their many engines, the rat-men swarmed over.

(https://i.imgur.com/QfuWXYW.jpg)

With days the city was captured, its populace becoming prisoners. The dwarfs at Lugo did not come to the city’s aid, for they were already close to their mountain home. No riders came from the wilderness to the north, and the Compagnia del Sole was so far away that the blood in the river-water had thinned to nought by the time it passed them by.

None knew what the dwarfen king in Karak Borgo intended, but he had until recently invested a great deal of gold in the recovery of Campogrotta and Ravola from the Bentiglovio and Boulderguts’ rule, hiring not one but two mercenary armies to assist his own warriors in the fight.

(https://i.imgur.com/WKCAGJO.jpg)

Now all his efforts appeared to have come to nought, for both realms were now lost to a new enemy; one which was likely to prove far more troubling to trade and prosperity than the ogres ever were; one that could destroy an army with the launch of but one grenado.

(https://i.imgur.com/E1RiKsb.jpg)

Perhaps not unsurprisingly, there were signs that the sleeping, sylvan elves of Tettoverde had been awakened by poisoning of their forest’s northern-most tip. Having long since spurned nearly all interaction with human and dwarfen realms, other than the activities of the Sharlian Riders (a mercenary company of adventurers who were rumoured to have been outcasts from the forest) it they could not ignore such a threat. And indeed, there were reported sightings of animated trees lurking at the forest’s edge …

(https://i.imgur.com/oGpZFEE.jpg)

… and giant hawks bearing riders high in the sky over the forest canopy to the south-east of Campogrotta.

(https://i.imgur.com/QWh7w3I.jpg)

Such tales had, however, always been quite commonplace. Only time would tell whether, as in more ancient times, the elves would send a host out from the forest’s shadow to thwart their enemies, or whether, as many thought more likely, they would simply prepare to annihilate any and all who dared to trespass upon their realm.

Continued in next post ... 

Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 14, 2022, 01:57:40 PM
Lord Silvano, heir to the bedridden Duke Guidobaldo Gondi, was now ruling Pavona as regent. While his father lay in his palazzio, visited only by physicians and his most trusted servants …

(https://i.imgur.com/a95l3IY.jpg)

… the young lord was glad to see that the city realm had at long last begun to recover from the cruel battering it received at the ogres’ brute hands. The town of Scozzese was thriving, having extended its cultivated lands and stocks of sheep and kine, while the once fruitful lands of Casoli and Todi showed signs of natural recovery, as Pavonan gentry, traders and peasants flocked to them, there to repair, rebuild and replant. Many were keen to leave the overcrowded city, where hunger had become quite normal.

In the previously conquered realms of Trantio and Astiano, there were signs of a similar recovery, although both presently lay outside of Pavona’s control. Lord Silvano announced that he had never yielded his authority as ‘Gonfalonieri for Life’ (governor) in Trantio, and had only appointed a substitute governor because he himself had been required to fulfil his holy and heartfelt vow to serve the arch-lector against the vampires. That substitute - the wizard Bellastra - had failed to defend the city against Boulderguts’ double army. Lord Silvano declared that he took not just his vows but also his offices seriously, and so (unable to travel there himself due to his many and necessary duties as regent in Pavona) he sent a  small force to ensure the safety of Trantio until he himself could return. These soldiers were ordered not just to protect the realm against an advance by the uomini ratto, but also to encourage the city’s healing and enforce the good behaviour of the populace. Trantio, he declared, was to become a bastion from which to thwart any advance by the foe into Tilea’s heartlands. 

As a consequence of the attempted assassination of their duke by the Verezzan brigand known as the Pettirosso, a new hatred of halflings festered in the streets of Pavona.

(https://i.imgur.com/j2WYNKK.jpg)

It was said that the duke should have gone much further than banishing the dwarfs several years previously, and instead banished every kind of non-human, including halflings. Of course, this would not have stopped such enemies secretly infiltrating the realm, but it would have meant such assassins found none of their kind to help or harbour them. Indeed, it was presumed exactly such had been the case, which is why the few halflings living within the city state were arrested, either to be imprisoned or worse. The luckiest were thrown into dungeon cells, supposedly to await questioning, but oftentimes forgotten, while any considered able-bodied or quick-witted enough to have assisted Pavona’s enemies in some way, were hunted down by lynch mobs, to be most roughly handled.

(https://i.imgur.com/45Ybss4.jpg)

This became a cruel sport in the realm, which Lord Silvano failed to rule against. Here was a first glimpse that perhaps he possessed some of his father's notorious wrath? Or perhaps it was his love for his wounded father that spurred his own hatred? Many halflings were pilloried and branded, while those believed to have been part of the Pettirosso’s band were strung up, exhibited alive so that the people could see the fate awaiting all traitors. Some such poor souls were so treated for many days, so that once the baying mob grew bored and drifted away, the more genteel Pavonans might spend a while viewing them, laughing at their pathetic state and fate.

(https://i.imgur.com/rU9XwWE.jpg)

Some were alive when finally cut down, but most had died, as a consequence of the rough handling they had received from the crowd, the lack of food or drink, or a brutal combination of both.

(https://i.imgur.com/6taCE4R.jpg)

Meanwhile, the city state of Verezzo, now (during Lord Lucca’s nephew’s minority) ruled in practise by the bitterly angry halfling noble, Barone Iacopo, continued to prepare for war against Pavona.

(https://i.imgur.com/wZN92nm.jpg)

The barone bolstered the realm’s forces as best he could, mustering new pike and crossbow soldiers in the Tilean style …

(https://i.imgur.com/sHTjVVi.jpg)

… yet it remained commonly doubted that he had anywhere near enough strength to defeat the stoutly walled city of Pavona, defended by its still not insignificant army.

(https://i.imgur.com/w0eCZyz.jpg)

Barone Iacopo became further angered by the Pavonan accusation that a Verezzan agent (the Pettirosso) had attempted to assassinate Duke Guidobaldo, publicly declaring that the duke of Pavona had now most likely added slander to his litany of well-known and proven crimes, the worst of which was the murder of Lord Lucca Vescussi in an entirely unwarranted predatory attack on Verezzo at a time of emergency in all of Tilea. And even if the Pettirosso was responsible for the attempt, then it would be due punishment for Lord Lucca’s assassination, and no bad thing. Upon hearing of the maltreatment of halflings in Pavona, the barone became almost apoplectic with rage!

And so he declared publicly, that as Duke Guidobaldo was (perhaps mortally) wounded, and in light of his litany of crimes, the duke must urgently seek to prepare his soul for its journey into Morr's heavenly garden. Furthermore, the barone demanded ...

* That Duke Guidobaldo personally apologise for Lord Lucca’s cruel murder, by travelling to Verezzo to attend a public service in the Morrite Temple there.
* Or if he was too ill to do so, then he should send his son, Lord Silvano, as his proxy, just as he sent the same son to answer to General Valckenburgh of the Army of the VMC before the walls of Pavona, after he slandered the said general by claiming it was his forces that had killed Lord Lucca.
* Or if Duke Guidobaldo refused to apologise and beg for the forgiveness of Morr and the good people of Verezzo, that he should allow himself to be subjected to a church led, legal enquiry (in holy Remas) concerning his actions and claims, and if found guilty of any crime, should pay whatever reparations were judged appropriate and undertake whatever penance was deemed necessary.
* Or if he was too ill to do that, then he should send his son, Lord Silvano, to stand as his proxy in the church enquiry.

The Pavonan nobility advising Lord Silvano considered these demands outrageous, especially as they came from a petty noble ruling a city state that had committed numerous slights and slanders against Gondi family in the past. The Morrite Lector of Pavona, Mauro Capolicchio, thought the halfling lord was foolish to believe he could make such demands of the Reman Church of Morr.

(https://i.imgur.com/8YcngUc.jpg)

Besides, he added, were Lord Silvano even to allow said enquiry, then as a part of the committee charged with the duty to discover the truth of the matter, then he could prove Duke Guidobaldo had only ever served Morr and the gods first, his own realm second and Tilea third – which was all that can rightly be asked of a noble, Tilean ruler.

The young Lord Silvano, however, being of his own mind, chose to satisfy Barone Iacopo’s demands by sending a proxy (Erkhart, the refugee lector of Trantio) to answer the summons and attend any judicial procedure.

(https://i.imgur.com/DCmC7gi.jpg)

This was indeed done. Upon arrival in Verezzo, Lector Erkhart met with the Barone Iacopo, who was attended by several of his newly raised guard companies.

(https://i.imgur.com/3ojD9Dr.jpg)

The lector informed the halfling lord that Duke Guidobaldo was indeed far too ill to travel, or even to leave his bed, having been so badly wounded by the assassin-brigand Pettirosso, and that his son, Lord Silvano, could not possibly leave his many duties as regent, especially as Pavona itself also lies wounded still.

(https://i.imgur.com/bGn5Z8v.jpg)

With father and son so disabled from attending, Erkhart was there to stand in place of both, to offer the duke of Pavona’s apologies for any and all assumed and proven offences. Bowing most humbly before the barone, he offered himself as Duke Guidobaldo’s substitute, to receive punishment.

(https://i.imgur.com/YogXVb2.jpg)

Barone Iacopo was said to be lost for words, for he considered this sending of an unasked for proxy to be but another Pavonan insult. His advisors were equally stunned, and indeed afraid to offer advice to their obviously irate master.

(https://i.imgur.com/LkrOtAC.jpg)

When the barone finally spoke, it was to curse the lector, the duke, his son and all Pavonans, and in no uncertain terms.

(https://i.imgur.com/GvSbOp7.jpg)

At that very moment, one of the lector’s two Pavonan guards brought down his halberd’s blade and struck the back of Erkhart’s head, apparently attempting to lop it off. Prevented from completing his attempt by the Barone’s more numerous guards, both he and the other Pavonan guard were restrained. When questioned, the guard confessed that this act was a misunderstanding; that he thought that such a punishment was required and believed it only right and proper that a soldier of Pavona should carry out the execution.

Lector Erkhart subsequently lay unconscious under the care of a doctor of physic in Verezzo, who were doubtful he would ever recover. His attacker was imprisoned, as Barone Iacopo was not at all satisfied with the account offered. The second guard was sent back to Trantio, there to deliver the message that this response to Barone Iacopo’s justified demands was in every way entirely unacceptable.

What the Reman arch-lector, Bernado Ugolini, truly thought concerning this dispute was anyone’s guess, for his holiness did not reveal his mind when he learned of these events. He had fought beside both Duke Guidobaldo and his son in several battles, against both the vampires and the ogres, forging a strong alliance with Pavona. Yet at the same time, he had long respected Lord Lucca Vescussi of Verezzo, the two having been friends and fellow students under the same Reman tutor in their youth. During the vampire wars, Bernado, just as Calictus II before him, strove to avoid any division or conflict between the city states of Tilea, and now, with the threat presented by the rat-men, could not reasonably be expected to steer a contrary diplomatic course. Nevertheless, it was openly rumoured among the high clergy, that his holiness Bernado knew a good deal about the disagreement between Pavona and Verezzo, having a deep insight into the true nature of those concerned.



By the end of summer, having stripped Capelli of every horse available to replace his army’s broken mounts, General Valckenburgh of the VMC and his shattered men arrived at the ruins of Mottola. Much of his foot, with the artillery, were somewhere just south of Raverno, and he had yet to hear from Luccia la Fanciulla in the far, far north.

(https://i.imgur.com/32qYZjz.jpg)

Leaving the bulk of his exhausted men at the ruins, Valckenburgh went ahead with a small party to the city of Alcente.

(https://i.imgur.com/Rc68brG.jpg)

There he learned that the city’s hastily raised garrison force had not chosen to pursue the Sartosan army along the road east, as they suspected the enemy’s manoeuvre was a ruse to lure them away from the city, exactly as the Sartosans had previously (successfully) tried, leading to the losses incurred at the Battle of Sersale.

(https://i.imgur.com/INkaUvx.jpg)

This time, however, it turned out not to be so, for it soon became clear that the pirates intended to sack the newly prosperous port-town of Pavezzano, where they could also embark upon their ships if it proved necessary. They razed the watchtower of Tursi as they passed, taking prisoners (which they later butchered) …
(https://i.imgur.com/ttKlEbH.jpg)

… and there was now nothing the general could do to stop them.

(https://i.imgur.com/vqNUHst.jpg)

Pavezzano was indeed assaulted, while the Sartosan fleet, which had arrived offshore before the army, cannonaded the defences. There followed a cruelly comprehensive sacking.

Presumably, General Valckenburgh cursed his decision to take so much so far north. For the first time since the VMC had defeated Khurnag’s army, the native Alcentians had begun to wonder whether they really could expect prosperity and peace under VMC rule, and some began rueing the day that military governorship was granted to these foreign soldiers. None, however, were foolish enough to voice their concerns too loudly, for the VMC’s soldiers were still  numerous, with more yet to return, and the mercantile company employing them was itself backed by investors with deep pockets, who knew full well just how much they could profit from possession of such a large swathe of fruitful lands in southern Tilea, and who were no doubt willing to send whatever was required to ensure that future income.

The Sartosan fleet, carrying Admiral Volker’s battered but still intact army and a vast quantity of plunder, passed by Alcente on its way back towards Sartosa, bearing some distance south. Even after a string of victories and so many settlements looted, they remained cautious of the VMC’s ships and soldiers, probably aware that if reinforcements had arrived by land or sea, then the enemy might well have regained sufficient strength to defeat them easily in battle.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, despite the vast wealth stolen from no less than five settlements under Alcentian (and thus VMC) rule, the Sartosan’s insatiable greed was not yet satisfied.

(https://i.imgur.com/tfNfzTP.jpg)

And so it was that the wizard, Duke Ercole Perotto, uncle to the hostage King Ferronso III of Luccini, became, at long last, involved in serious negotiations for his nephew’s release. He met with several of Admiral Volker’s emissaries at one of the coastal watchtowers studding the shore for several miles south of the city.

(https://i.imgur.com/RbwA05H.jpg)

Luccini had begun to heal after the pirate’s incursion, and several Tilean banking families recognised that there was a profit to be made by lending Duke Ercole the sums of money required, underwritten by a share of the recovering realm’s future tax income. Of course, the Sartosans cared not a jot for these details, only getting as much gold as they could, while ensuring they gave no hint concerning just how much Admiral Volker wanted rid of his annoyingly troublesome prisoner. 

(https://i.imgur.com/8SWyW0G.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on August 17, 2022, 12:33:07 PM
Great stuff again Padre, I've still been reading and watching your videos though work has been stupidly busy for time of year so my posting here has gone down.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on August 23, 2022, 09:45:13 PM
Thanks for saying SOF.

Back to the video remakes of the earlier parts ... Part 42 of Tilea's Troubles is now on YouTube. Troublesome news reaches the army camped at Viadaza. Campaigns can get messy! https://youtu.be/X4Zlg9kV-BE
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 07, 2022, 10:34:31 PM
Tilea's Troubles Part 43 is now done.

The commanders spiritual and military of the Holy Army of Morr have to deal with a mutinous 'incident'.

See - https://youtu.be/iDjnkfRmjbo

Some pics ...

(https://i.imgur.com/PX4sDXe.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/BFq2PN9.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on September 09, 2022, 01:57:06 PM
Great job. i just finished watching whilst waiting for Charlies convoy
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on September 16, 2022, 02:42:44 PM
Thanks RD.

Tilea's Troubles Part 44 is now available, being the prequel to a battle report. (A somewhat faster turnover than usual.) I am currently working on four extra models I need for the battle report, but hopefully it will be up within 2 or 3 weeks!

See
https://youtu.be/on2a-8yJg-w

Some pics ...

(https://i.imgur.com/K9dqaWU.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/FKzVuce.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on September 17, 2022, 01:17:25 AM
Another stellar effort. Great job on the oppressed peasantry.
I had a good chuckle at the priest who lectured people on how to correctly pick their noses 
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 01, 2022, 10:59:34 PM
Thanks muchly, Rowsdowser.

Tilea’s Troubles, Part 45 is now up! It is a battle report, but from a somewhat unusual angle. Four young lads meet in a cellar to learn what one of them saw when watching the battle unfold. I have to admit, it is a strange thing to turn an account of (nothing more than) a game of toy soldiers between two of my friends, both campaign players, into a child’s description of horrors witnessed!

https://youtu.be/PHeGOduXsmU

Some pics …

(https://i.imgur.com/Sqw5su0.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Xuv1jBk.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/L1wTv47.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on October 02, 2022, 02:40:02 AM
Like that you've done up a limber for what I sometimes call the gatling gun.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on October 02, 2022, 01:28:11 PM
Dont feel bad about 'playing' with little toy soldiers. Some of my fondest memories of childhood come from the off-brand G.I.JOE figures my parents bought me because they couldn't always afford the official ones. For several years I've been trying to write a novelization about now-vague play scenarios but i can't get it to work.

P.S Is there a term for the type of helmet one of those gunners is wearing? I refer to them as 'Liea' helmets :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 02, 2022, 01:46:00 PM
I have seen bascinets with rondles like that, I think.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 15, 2022, 06:48:36 PM
Tilea's troubles Part 46 is now up.

Father Biagino meets some schismatic Morrites from Pavona, keen to discuss their struggle against Boulderguts' ogres.

https://youtu.be/xvE-XzR7_Sk

(https://i.imgur.com/gGwHznP.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on October 19, 2022, 12:58:52 PM
Great job on the militia man and flagellant. :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 21, 2022, 03:03:53 PM
Thanks Rowsdowser. I'll see the militiaman and raise you a hawk!

The two chancellors answer questions from their new captain, in Part 47 of Tilea's Troubles.

https://youtu.be/ZH3FRno2Lgs


(https://i.imgur.com/Xc4KrZh.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 24, 2022, 09:00:15 PM
Please forgive the jumping back and forth through time, but this story is set in the campaign's present day, which I am sure will please my players.

The Great Arcanum
Somewhere near Campogrotta, Autumn, 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/i1yUuuh.jpg)

They had been sent to meet the new engine of war, to ensure it took the prepared path upon the final stretch of its journey, the surest and quickest way, to be brought safe and sound to the army. They had already visited its attendants’ camp, placed several hundred yards ahead of it, along the rocky valley. They had held their tongues, and none had spoken to them, for all were commanded so. The engine’s crew and guards were to speak to no-one, nor vice versa, under the pain of death. Gradger and Farrgrin must show the way with gestures alone!

Now, as they approached the engine itself, there was a disagreement between them, as Gradger suddenly came to a halt.

“No and never,” declared Gradger. “Not I. I shall go no closer. I saw-full the curse afflicted by the first such engine. Bursting boils and bleeding sores. Corpse piles. If it has stopped, then whichever idiot-fool allowed it to do so should be punish-whipped. We can show them the way without being close-by. We need not even look upon it.”

(https://i.imgur.com/Op3gWFY.jpg)

Farrgrin had rarely seen the engineer’s mate so terrified – a fuming fury of fear! Gradger had been nervous before, much worried, as was to be expected of all servants, and he was often inquisitive, on occasion perilously so, but never this filled with dread.  It suddenly occurred to him that as an engineer’s mate of considerable experience, Gradger might be afraid he would be ordered to tend upon this new war-machine, to become part of its crew. That would explain his behaviour.

“Calm-quiet yourself,” soothed Farrgrin. “You know-understand little. This engine is not the same as the last. Not at all. This one does not bleed-leak death.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ag4qnFb.jpg)

Gradger’s snorted laugh in response could not, thought Farrgrin, be a pleasant thing to experience inside his mask.

“I know not which, but you are mistaken or false-lying, for if what you say were so, then what use would this engine be to all and any? What use is a bombard that does not kill?”

“You would do well-better if your mask did not make you deaf. I said-spoke only that it does not leak death. I assure you, this can kill-destroy just as well as the first – whole cities and armies entire.”

Gradger was shaking his head.

(https://i.imgur.com/G6v2Wvg.jpg)

“How so?” he asked, “If it can be approached without harm, does it not bear the same poison as the first? Tell-explain.”

“Come now, brave friend, and I shall show-reveal all. When you look upon it you will see; you will understand.”

“No, and never. Only a double fool would draw near-close to it by choice. I have seen its attendant-guards. Each and all carrying goggle-masks and breathing tubes. Each and all in waxed-cloth and leather robes. Just as before. Just the same. If what you claim-say is the truth, then why would they do so? Why and what for?"

(https://i.imgur.com/SpZU40d.jpg)

“Those are only the ones who are close to it every day, week after week. Those who merely pass by, to glance upon it, even those who guard it this night or that, occasional and rare, for only hours at a time, need wear no such things.”

(https://i.imgur.com/tQrVV22.jpg)

Gradger pointed a crooked, clawed finger at Farrgrin,

 “How can you know for certain-sure? You do not attend it. You have never even seen it!”

“I know for I have eyes and ears, and I carry messages for many a chieftain and clawleader. I have heard orders, read words. Come, we shall see. I would not go myself if it were not safe, yes? This engine is made better, bigger. Deadlier in use yet safer to move. All will run-flee before it or die and die by the thousands. None can face such a weapon as this.”

(https://i.imgur.com/x3jrnAW.jpg)

Farrgrin began to walk further down the rocky gully and Gradger reluctantly followed, the sound of hissing breath from inside the mask revealing his ongoing trepidation. Almost lost in the rush of fear, something was niggling at Gradger’s mind, something about Farrgrin knowing such secrets.

When they turned into the clearing to stand before it, Gradger gulped and pulled his mask tighter about his head.

(https://i.imgur.com/jcqIoBX.jpg)

“Look-see,” said Farrgrin, attempting to sound reassuring. “There, there it stands, and yet the green-grass about it does not wither-die. Its attendants busy themselves about it, with ne’er a sign of sickness-pain.”

Gradger was, for a moment, speechless. What Farrgrin was saying was clearly true, but now a new concern assaulted him. All that he knew of bombards meant he could not believe what he was looking at. The barrels, both of them, were so huge that the carriage seemed altogether insufficiently sturdy.

“It launch-fires two grenadoes?” he asked. “Why would anyone try-attempt such? How will it not shiver-break on first firing? How could it ever fire twice?”

(https://i.imgur.com/yzc83PL.jpg)

“Yes. Yes - it throws two,” said Farrgrin, feeling glee at knowing more about the engine than his engineering friend. “And at one and the same time. That way it need not fire more than once, for once is all and everything.”

Gradger seemed to understand. “Two to make one,” he said.

“Two to open a very hell upon the foe-enemy,” declared Farrgrin, getting a little carried away. “Each grenade carries only half that which is needed, and not the same mix at all. So, no poison-leaks; no forever moving. Only when broken and mixed are they made deadly: explosively and massively. The poison is a gift only the enemy-foe will know.”

(https://i.imgur.com/CD1AeVB.jpg)

Inside his mask, Gradger’s eyes squinted as he scrutinised the engine.

(https://i.imgur.com/ra2ZCBv.jpg)

“No, no,” he said quietly. “This is asking too much. Both to fire at once; to follow the same course; to travel the same distance; to break at the same moment. This cannot be done! Such would surely need too perfect-pure an alignment, in elevation, in weights, to the tiniest degree. Even the burning of the primer would have to be exactly equal. Besides, such a carriage could never bear the strain-shock of a double discharge.”

(https://i.imgur.com/zWK7UG1.jpg)

“Perfection is not required,” explained Farrgrin. “The grenadoes are made to burst big, and that which they hurl forth only need to caress the cloud made by the other to bring forth their destruction. I saw-read it. I carried the orders, the explanations. An infusion of occult virtues, they said. The incendiary sublimination of both sulfurous and mercurial warpstone, to ferment a projected multiplication of a deathly quintessence.”

On any other occasion, Gradger would surely have immediately questioned how it was that the likes of Farrgrin was allowed to peruse such arcanum, but just now he was still too tangled in other thoughts.

(https://i.imgur.com/adkACjs.jpg)

“Yes, yes, stirred together,” he said, “even the vapours thereof, it could be done, but only by one who was prepared to die in the doing of it. For this to do it, that is too much. The first engine was simple: wheels, barrel and bomb. It was to throw already blended death, already potent poisons, which need only shatter and burst in the right spot-place. All it had to do was fire-shoot but one grenado. Simple indeed, yet still it failed. Who would think that by attempting twice as much, necessarily in one and the same moment and in perfect unison, success was more certain?”

(https://i.imgur.com/5Lo1txm.jpg)

“You can think it,” said Farrgrin. “Consider why the first one failed. It plague-burned all and everyone who approached. Even those who attended it, despite their protective filterings and robes, were slowly poisoned. Its very own crew, in the moving of it alone, themselves suffered a slow death. How could they expect-hope succeed when so pained, so afflicted?”

Gradger was not satisfied with this answer. “You can believe it, but you cannot know. There are none alive who really know what happened to the first, only that it burst-blasted the land through which it rolled, and not the city.”

“Yes, yes,” replied Farrrgin. “I and all know that. All within sight-view of its failure died. But Gradger, you saw those who attended it - escorts and guards. You saw them weaken-fail. You saw the corpses of those who died on the journey. You saw the ground poison-burned wheresoever it moved, the circumexpiration it scratched around Ravola. Whatever mistake-blunder its crew committed, whatever foolish fault, whatever shoddy choice-decision they made before Campogrotta, their pain-addled minds cannot have helped. This time, with this engine, there will be no such failure. Those who tend it will have clear minds, and the strength of will and body to do all and everything that must be done. “

“Maybe so,” said Gradger. “Perhaps they could practise a most perfect precision. But timber, iron and black powder are what they are, no more. Bolts, braces and brackets are only as strong as they can be. The mere moving of such an engine will stress-strain every part, slowly but surely weakening the whole.”

“Hush now,” ordered Farrgrin. “Speak-say no more of this. Keep your worry-fear to yourself. Much is expected of this engine. None may ridicule-mock, none may cast doubts, not without punishment.”

Gradger fixed his eyes on Farrgrin. “Friend Farrgrin, promise me. If ever you carry orders to make me tend this engine, scratch out my name-mark. For that I will be in your debt-service and will pay much and more.”

“Willingly, friend Gradger, I promise and assure,” said Farrgrin. “If I am given such to carry. For now, you work hard upon your own engine. Be necessary-irreplaceable. That way and then you will not be asked to tend this one.”

Gradger was not convinced, for he saw a dilemma. Hard work might well mean being kept in place, but it could easily mean promotion instead. If this engine was the most important in the army, then would not the best engineers and mates be assigned to it? And double the dilemma, for shoddy work and laziness might lead to punishment, which could take the form of being assigned to this, the most dangerous of weapons to its own crew. Depending on the commanders’ whims, either good working or lazy shirking could mean being forced to work this engine!

How could he possibly know what to do?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on October 25, 2022, 06:47:23 AM
I like the way the Skaven speak-talk :biggriin:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 25, 2022, 07:32:37 AM
Did you notice I made up a new word for them?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on October 26, 2022, 01:01:30 PM
I have to ask. Did they buy that cannon from Wile E Coyote?
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on October 26, 2022, 05:46:55 PM
There are very good reasons for it's appearance - all will be revealed eventually.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 13, 2022, 10:02:41 PM
Part 48 of Tilea's Troubles is now available. It features a Bronzino galloper model, plus my attempt to scratch-build a second!

https://youtu.be/CowtaAlbPns

Some pics

(https://i.imgur.com/uz4uw7s.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/UnyP7OQ.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on November 26, 2022, 09:58:43 PM
Ever wondered how to negotiate with goblins? Then take a look at part 49 of my Warhammer Fantasy Tilean campaign.

See https://youtu.be/THomiJiJ5U8
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 12, 2022, 07:20:36 PM
Tilea's Troubles, part 50 is up. Master Mugello's letter focuses on Razger Bouldergut's rampage across the realm of Pavona, but also knits a lot of past events from the campaign together. Hopefully those of you who want a clearer understanding of the general situation will like this one. 

https://youtu.be/u0Te_QW7fTM

Some pics ...

(https://i.imgur.com/UOFxb19.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/HLsGeF6.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/rn79Wz2.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 18, 2022, 10:13:20 PM
And now back to the present day. Dizzying, eh?

...

Eyes and ears, of different kinds

Part One: Somewhere in Tettoverde Forest, Autumn, 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/GpsSM1y.jpg)

The spellsinger, Ascal Arconvale, could see that High Lord Veluthil was dreading the reports, for they might reveal something much worse than that which he already feared.

Was the rat-men army even greater in size than the most bloated of previous estimations? If so, the enemy might be willing to sustain the cruel losses that encroachment into the forest realm would inevitably incur, knowing they could nevertheless retain sufficient strength to gain victory in the final battle. Did the rat-men possess more of their terror weapons? Merely one such engine could fatally poison the very heart of the forest and bring about its complete ruin, transforming the sylvan realm of Tettoverde into a desert. Had the enemy already begun corrupting the forest’s denizens, twisting them into servants of evil? Or were they introducing potent pestilences to moulder the trees and fatally infect the fauna.

(https://i.imgur.com/mENMpyX.jpg)

Apart from their novel war-engine, all these things the rat-men had attempted before, in ages past. There was no wickedness they would not stoop to, no danger they would not hazard (at least, when it came to their own servants’ lives). Theirs was a twisted, cunning genius, if grasping and impatient, which lured them down cruel and destructive paths. They loved only their own lives and power, looking upon all other creatures with disdain, even disgust. To them, every thing was to be consumed or possessed, having worth only in so far as it could benefit their own selfish lusts and ambitious cruelties. There was no destructive novelty so hazardous or dangerous that they would not attempt to harness it fully, going to the extreme, and what they had done near Campogrotta proved they clearly still possessed this predilection.

(https://i.imgur.com/PDwYWZL.jpg)

Cioran Brightmoon, commander of the Waywatchers, and Captain Hedre Eedwillow of the River Watch, had come to deliver their reports. Two weeks before, Lord Veluthil sent servants to all sides of the Campogrottan realm: on boats, on foot, on horseback and even flying upon war-hawks. He admitted to Ascal that by doing so the rat-men would surely learn that they were being watched, but he considered it far more important right now to know as much as possible concerning the enemy’s strength, disposition and plans, than to remain hidden. Upon consideration, Ascal thought it was no bad thing that the enemy knew they were being spied upon, intently and from all about, for it might make them think twice about encroaching further into the forest. Despite being thoroughly wicked and as cruel as devils, the rat-men were also craven cowards. When the forest was angered, as it indeed was after the poisoning of its north-western reaches, it took on a terrible countenance and became very dangerous to strangers.

After the formal greetings such an audience required, and upon Lord Veluthil’s instructions that they should both endeavour to be thorough and concise, Captain Hedre delivered her report first.

(https://i.imgur.com/BcrRW03.jpg)

She had ventured west along the River Ancar to learn that any who may have dwelt there had long since gone, with only a handful of signs of more recent habitation, perhaps little more than campsites where travelers had stayed but one or two nights. Upon approaching the city of Campogrotta, she encountered not just the first ratmen in any real numbers, but also several engines within range of the river, one of which spat an unnatural lightning which boiled the waters wherever it touched into an ill-coloured steam. Knowing it would be suicide to remain, she ordered her vessel rowed away. 

(https://i.imgur.com/muVCsb8.jpg)

Having nothing more to report, it was Cioran’s turn. He had more to say, for he and his waywatchers had crept much closer to the city, some few even going within the walls in the darkest hours of the night, and lingered longer.

(https://i.imgur.com/Z7SYJ3D.jpg)

“The city swarms with them, my lord, as one might expect of their kind. Counting them is no easy task, indeed quite impossible, for they scurry about incessantly, and from a distance look much alike. But they are army, and nearly all we spied were warriors.

(https://i.imgur.com/ALCYmHR.jpg)

They have placed guards throughout the city… 

(https://i.imgur.com/YCOdeS8.jpg)

… at every portal, whether door or gate …

(https://i.imgur.com/GmIk9uM.jpg)

… and at every junction and bridge, with still more guarding the poor souls they have enslaved. We caught only glimpses of their war machines, for they are within the city walls …”

Lord Veluthil raised his hand to silence Cioran, asking, “Within the walls? Are you certain of this?”

(https://i.imgur.com/MsJqLr0.jpg)

“Yes, my lord. They have several large artillery pieces, kept in the city’s squares with guards and attendants a-plenty.” Glancing over at Hedre, he added, “We too saw one upon the walls close to the river.”

(https://i.imgur.com/PxqK7Vz.jpg)

Although others would struggle to notice, Ascal could see a hint of relief in Veluthil’s face, and she knew why. If the machines were kept close to the ratmen, in the very heart of the city, then they could not be akin to the terror engine, for that had poisoned the very ground over which it had travelled and destroyed all life in every place it rested. If these engines were within the city, attended by many, then many would be suffering.

And yet, Lord Veluthil was clearly not completely re-assured, for he enquired further.

“Were the enemy in any way suffering weakness or illness, or showing signs of injury?”

“Not that I could see, my lord.”

“And the engines’ attendants and guards – were they like unto the rest of the army? Garbed in the same manner? Or were they masked, and swathed in robes and leather?”

(https://i.imgur.com/V2I3aUL.jpg)

“Some, my lord, had masks, but not all and not many. Others elsewhere were also masked, even away from the engines. It seems to be a fairly common practise among their kind. There were robed warriors patrolling the roads about the city in strength, but they wore no masks.”

(https://i.imgur.com/8gBRU6o.jpg)

Cioran had always been thorough, and Ascal knew he would not be feigning knowledge he did not possess.

“Did you ascertain the enemy’s purpose?” enquired Lord Veluthil. “Are they making preparations to leave?”

“They gave no sign of such preparations, my lord. But they are present in strength, and well-armed.”

“How so?”

“They most commonly carry heavy bladed polearms, somewhat akin to halberds …

(https://i.imgur.com/sep5aFg.jpg)

… but considering how many also carry shields, these must be employed like spears. They act as any garrison would: eating, sleeping, watching. I myself saw one cooking up some kind of pottage in a great cauldron …

(https://i.imgur.com/YeXB6e5.jpg)

…  the stench of which was foul, for despite the boiling in of herbs and weeds the fact that the fleshmeat had turned could not be concealed. I dread to think it, but I doubt it was the flesh of an animal.”

(https://i.imgur.com/p8ZWRBw.jpg)

“Beyond the usual activities of garrison soldiers, they have placed strange totems about the city, bearing rags or brass icons, even cymbals, and sometimes a cluttered mess of several such things. The purpose of these I could not ascertain …

(https://i.imgur.com/Y1gGp3R.jpg)

… for the ratmen do not seem to pray before them or show any form of respect. They do not muster at them as they might regimental standards, nor use them to mark boundaries of some kind, although such could be possible, I suppose, without being obvious to any but their own kind. They have no cavalry of any sort, but they have some beasts, and the city swarms with rats, some as large as cats or even bigger, flitting around frantically in packs.”

(https://i.imgur.com/syFPs2m.jpg)

“Have they sent out any scouts?” asked Ascal. “Or foraging parties? And are there any signs at all they intend to march forth at some point?”

“What few venture out do not go far,” answered Cioran. “As for supplies, they appear to have sufficient for their current needs within the city itself. My best guess, giving all that I have seen, is that they are waiting. For whom or what, there is yet no sign.”

“My lord, they suffered casualties when their weapon exploded,” said Ascal. , now addressing Lord Veluthil.

(https://i.imgur.com/1gTBDge.jpg)

“And likely lost more in the fighting before and after that event, in the taking of the realm. Despite their current strength, they themselves might well consider their army too weak to pursue further conquest, especially if they intend to leave a force behind to hold their newly acquired possession. Considering their past behaviour, their need to swarm against their foes, it seems likely they are awaiting reinforcements.”

Lord Velthuthil nodded gravely. “And when they receive them, what will they do next?” he asked.

Ascal presumed it was a rhetorical question. If the enemy were awaiting reinforcements, that would be bad enough. But should they bring another engine capable of the poisonous destruction of the first, then the situation was dire, and the need for action urgent. Ascal held her tongue, however, for there was little she could offer by way of reassurance. Beyond simply risking everything in an attempt to attack and defeat the foe immediately, when such sacrifice might prove unsuccessful, even unnecessary (if the foe had no intention of advancing into the forest), she could think of no plan of action beyond biding time and hoping for an opportunity.

If the rat-men presently believed themselves to be weak, then considering their historic spinelessness when faced with real challenges, perhaps the elves’ best course of action was to attack as soon as possible? But fighting outside of the forest would put Lord Veluthil’s army at a great disadvantage, especially assaulting a walled city. On the other hand, waiting for the rat-men to enter the shadow of the trees might prove too late to defeat them, especially if they had more
terror weapons.

Ifs and buts a-plenty, thought Ascal. Such was ever the way of war. She was glad Lord Veluthil bore the burden. She had only to obey.

Caught up in these rather unpleasant thoughts, Ascal had not heard Cioran’s last words – a fault she sought to rectify immediately.

(https://i.imgur.com/MsJqLr0.jpg)

“We did find the tunnel’s mouth, which they must have used to approach the city from the south,” he was saying. “Large enough for engines, and presently abandoned. It looked to have been recently made, though within a hundred yards or so was what appeared to be a more ancient passageway, passing deep into the ground, in complete darkness. I considered exploring further, but already several of our number had become too sick to journey onwards – an affliction which began when we crossed the river on the salvaged vessels. The air within the tunnel seemed to exacerbate their illness. So we left and returned to the forest proper. I ordered the sick remain in the vale of Corcalen, there to be tended, while I came to you my lord.”

Again, Lord Veluthil nodded, and the company fell silent. At last, he spoke,

“There is much to consider, and to weigh. I will listen to what the warhawk riders have to say before I decide our next moves. In the meantime, consider the matter yourselves, for I may ask for further counsel.”



Part Two: Somewhere in Campogrotta, Autumn, 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/7UinX7E.jpg)

Farrgrin was not exactly happy this task had fallen to him, despite knowing that if he was now considered worthy enough to speak directly to Seer-Lord Urlak Ashoscrochor then his own status had surely improved. His only previous encounters with Lord Urlak had been when handing missives to clerks, when he had simply been in the Grey Seer’s vicinity, not expected to speak at all, and certainly not to Lord Urlak. He was more nervous now than he had been when out with the scout-spies, knowing the enemy was both near and watching.

His heart was racing, his throat dry, even his vision had blurred. He shook his head, as if to rid it of the fog. As his surroundings refocused, he realised Lord Urlak was staring right at him!

(https://i.imgur.com/50FWGBO.jpg)

“Well, speak-explain. What have you learned?” demanded Lord Urlak.

Despite how obvious it was, it still took Farrgrin a moment to understand it was he himself who was being addressed.

(https://i.imgur.com/xZzKjTn.jpg)

“Elves, Lord and Master, great and noble. By … by which I mean to speak-say, not that the elves are great and noble, but you, mighty lord, great and …”

“Cease and stop your blather-babble. Answer quick and to the point. You have but one-single chance, here and now, to satisfy me, or I shall find someone who can and will, and you shall learn quick and painful what it means to disappoint me.”

Farrgrin sensed an increased malice in the yellow clad warriors of Urlak’s bodyguard regiment. They lurched almost imperceptibly forwards, their clawed hands gripping their weapons’ hilts and shafts a little tighter.

(https://i.imgur.com/wlZ5KbB.jpg)

“We have seen-spied elves. Sk … skulk-hiding in the green leaves. Watching, spying.”

“And counting, no doubt. I myself know of the sky hawks, yes, for I saw-spied them with mine own eyes over the city. But you saw more. Where and what?”

(https://i.imgur.com/rb0rhF4.jpg)

“At the edge of the green-trees, near-close to the bridge at Tarano. Not many but a few, with spears and bows and green-cloth cloaks.”

(https://i.imgur.com/VJtyj6g.jpg)

“On the far side of the river-water?” enquired Lord Urlak.

“Great and noble lord, no, no. On this-here side, where the forest-trees grow between the west-road and the river.”

(https://i.imgur.com/dc3cUtG.jpg)

“Then you were able to capture-catch them, yes? With the river behind to prevent their escape-flight.”

“We would and could, high and mighty master, if the trees had not been so thick-close, and the elf-things so slippery-quick, and had there been more than four of us. The trees there, they are no copse-grove, but many and more, for the forest itself crosses the water, then on to a width of nearly a mile and more than a league long.”

“A satisfyingly long list of excuses, I am certain sure, and all delaying your answer. You did not catch them?”

Farrgrin dreaded answering, for there was a hint of criticism and disappointment in Lord Urlak’s tone, and it did not do to upset one’s master. But as they had no elves to offer up, he could only speak truthfully.
 
“No, no, your high and mightiness.”

He was surprised when Lord Urlak’s next words were neither threatening nor cruel, yet a part of him knew it would have been foolish to expect such. Lord Urlak was wise and therefore had the measure of his servants. Only a fool would expect so few to catch fleet-footed elves in their own forest.

“Tell me, did they cross the river-water by the bridge?”

“No, great lord. We questioned the guard-soldiers there. Only our warriors have crossed - nothing and no-one else, neither way and for many a day.”

“Then they can cross the waters some other way,” mused the grey seer. “The forest, you said - a mile by a league? Large, and big enough to hide an army?”

“Such a thing could stand within, but I assure and promise you, your mighty highness, there was no army there.”

“Yes, yes. But if they wanted-chose, they could hide one there. Perhaps the trees ought to be burn-destroyed, so that none remain north of the river, leaving nowhere for them to creep and hide.”

No-one answered, as they knew Lord Urlak was merely thinking aloud, and would only have been annoyed by someone speaking.

He turned to look at the claw leader also present.

(https://i.imgur.com/lEEqUFl.jpg)

“And you, and your scouts, whither-where did you go?”

“Great lord, we crossed the bridge, south and south-east, to the very edge of the poisoned land. There we scour-searched, along each and every path, old and new, looking for signs of passage, and enemy-foes.

(https://i.imgur.com/aUWEYoR.jpg)

“And you found such?”

“We saw horse-riders, a dozen or so, who fled-escaped upon seeing us.”

(https://i.imgur.com/5ro16Rg.jpg)

“How many were you?” asked Lord Urlak, a hint of mockery in his tone.

“Six and me, all ready, all keen.”

“And you think and believe the riders fled because they were afeared of you? Yes?”

The claw-leader’s eye twitched, and his tail flicked involuntary. His lips curled in fear to reveal all his teeth as he spoke.

“I would never and not claim such a thing, great and mighty mightiness, only that they rode fast and passed. Away and not towards. They loosed no arrows; threw no spears.”

(https://i.imgur.com/rdmspGI.jpg)

“They rode where they wanted to ride, simply spying you as they did so.”

“Yes, noble lord, yes. Too far away and too quick for us reach them.”

Lord Urlak shushed the claw-leader with a gesture of his finger.

“Riding errands, hither and thither. Carrying messages and dispatching spies to creep and sneak. There’s an army somewhere, I am certain-sure. But will they emerge from the forest’s-shadow? Have they come to assault-attack, or just to watch and wait?”
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on December 23, 2022, 09:57:29 PM
It can't be said enough turning your campaign to video form is great and I highly enjoy your hobby talk videos as well.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on December 28, 2022, 05:11:33 PM
Thanks SOF. It is good to read your comment, as otherwise how can I know whether it is worthwhile continuing. The campaign and the videos swallow vast amounts of my time!

Tilea's Troubles part 51 is a story set in an autumnal garden. Good job I had a figure of a gardener with some buckets!

https://youtu.be/p4cMiok_RlM

(https://i.imgur.com/CUYnNg5.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 12, 2023, 05:39:21 PM
The prequel to a new battle report is up - being part 52 of my Tilean campaign. The Holy Army of Morr will face the vampire duchess's army!

It's at https://youtu.be/8F7lhAa71xc

Some pics from it ...

(https://i.imgur.com/10zOZpZ.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/KnuvrBl.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on January 16, 2023, 12:23:59 PM
I was enjoying that. My video software died on me halfway through
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 16, 2023, 03:16:50 PM
So are you saying that my voice broke your video software or was it my bad painting? I suppose a combination of both could be excruciating.  :wink:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on January 17, 2023, 01:29:10 PM
So are you saying that my voice broke your video software or was it my bad painting? I suppose a combination of both could be excruciating.  :wink:
I dont know what happened. I just logged onto youtube moments ago and i can't get a single video to load
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 17, 2023, 03:06:25 PM
Oh no! So my voice broke the whole of YouTube!  :evil:
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on January 28, 2023, 05:08:24 PM
Tilea's Troubles Part 53, is up. The Holy Army of Morr, commanded by the arch-lector of Remas and his general d'Alessio, take on the vampire Duchess Maria's army! Will Father Biagino survive?

Loads of old figures in and amongst 40 years' range of figures.

See https://youtu.be/qBplW2Gy7VM

Some pics ...

(https://i.imgur.com/51mgE9Y.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/Xfm7ddN.jpg)

(https://i.imgur.com/2xQbZm7.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 01, 2023, 02:00:57 PM
... And back to the present day end of my campaign.

But Does It Augur Well?
The Island of Sartosa, Autumn 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/iNz4YkQ.jpg)

Five captains and first-mates, of different crews, being the quorum required by the grand articles for the swearing of a new captain into the fleet, had gathered near the pledging ring, where Kroll awaited them.

(https://i.imgur.com/OAmvipn.jpg)

The admiral, Leopold Volker, was present, of course, as well as Captain Anssem van Baas, and three first mates, being the dwarf Bald Kuzmoul of Captain Leadforge’s crew, the goblin Coboc Draald of Bagnam Farque’s crew and Geordt (more commonly known as Jambalo), the one-legged representative of Captain Garique.

(https://i.imgur.com/0QrqftX.jpg)

Kroll towered over them, as would any ogre, although he was tall even among his own kind.

(https://i.imgur.com/lnVqOcU.jpg)

His blade alone was the length of a boarding pike, and his piece, held like a pistol in the other hand, was akin in size to a swivel gun, and not one of the smaller ones. He wore an iron belly plate as did so many ogres, which might be supposed a hazard for a seafarer, considering how much quicker he would sink should he ever enter the water, but then his general bulk, heavy woollen coat and huge leather boots would not prove conducive to floating anyway.

(https://i.imgur.com/tpk0FSR.jpg)

Coboc emitted a strange, guttural, squeaking sound, as if his breathing had become suddenly laboured. Most took it to mean he was afraid, what with him being a goblin. Only Bald Kuzmoul was shorter than he, and in truth, the taller men next to him were nearly as nervous, just much better at concealing the fact. All except the admiral, who had seen such terrors in his days that a brute ogre was simply another encounter along the way. So it was, he was merely studying Kroll, as if to judge him, to weigh his worth, to decide what use he might be. And well the admiral might, as Kroll was here to be admitted to the fleet, and to receive a seat at the Captains’ Council table. (Despite the fact there was no seat large enough to accommodate him, nor even quarters high enough to admit him, apart from those upon his own ship, but that was a concern for later!)

He was the only ogre among his crew, the rest being men and orcs, some of the latter weighing twice as much as the men, but not taller. There were rumours that he once had ratmen in his crew, but they seemed to be none now, which allowed those who doubted such could be the case to be more convinced it never was!

(https://i.imgur.com/rdogSmZ.jpg)

The crew were mostly armed with axes, either two-handed or boarding axes, being famously skilled in their use, either in a fight or to expertly and quickly hack their way through bulkheads. One might wonder why they were needed when their captain Kroll could surely slice (perhaps even punch?) his way through even the hardest old oak, but he could hardly be everywhere at once could he? Besides, as he himself had declared - having adopted what he believed were the ways of a gentleman captain - such manual labour would disparage the height of an ogre in him. Why stoop to the level of a rude, mechanical, seaman when he had servants to do such work? Fighting was of course a suitable pursuit for a noble captain, but carpentry was not.

Kroll’s standard bore a death’s head above an hourglass, not because he and his crew were Morrites in faith (being instead worshippers of Stromfells or Ranald, according to their current needs) but because the image was intended as a statement of intent: “If you argue with us your time will run out.”

(https://i.imgur.com/b0iJTTE.jpg)

The crew were grizzled veterans in the main, as were so many in the fleet, having served various realms, whether on fighting ships or merchant vessels, until greed, misfortune, desperation, or devilry drove them to become pirates. Some had the dead-eyed stare of men who had long since abandoned any hope or compassion for others …

(https://i.imgur.com/mBJ0pC2.jpg)

… while some bore the determined expression of men driven by a powerful desire for wealth, with not a care for what mayhem they caused in its pursuit.

(https://i.imgur.com/dVj3Tyj.jpg)

The orcs, however, were simply happy to eat when they wanted, fight when they could, and make cruel sport out of their enemies’ misfortunes. None, however, misbehaved in Kroll’s presence, for he was a hard taskmaster, and all knew that he would slice a crewmember in half at the drop of a hat if they displeased him, acting as judge and jury in such matters. But that was rare, for they went out of their way to keep him happy, and so it was they had had a fruitful career upon the seas so far, despite the malicious rumours of dealings with the ratmen.

Until, that is, recently, when more and more ships, even merchants, were carrying guns, and ever larger contingents of professional fighters as well as sailors. The threat of the Sartosan Fleet had caused this sudden increase in armament, making piracy by individual ships that bit harder. This is why Kroll had decided to join the fleet itself, as it was a force large enough to plunder entire cities. He desired a share in such rich prizes, and knew there were several great cities yet to be looted.

(https://i.imgur.com/MiOGFLj.jpg)

Admiral Volker, as was his right, spoke first.

“This oath you are to take, Captain Kroll, is no petty thing. You are about to stand in the pledging ring, also named the auger circle, and not just because of the giant augurs it is fashioned from, but because any lie told within it augers ill, very ill, for he who speaks it.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ZLfMa2b.jpg)

Kroll grinned, revealing several teeth fashioned of gold. It was a sight somehow more disturbing than his usual scowl.

(https://i.imgur.com/GM6veyI.jpg)

“That I need not fear, but I do expect that by holding to my oath it will auger well for me.”

“I shall do my best to ensure that,” answered the admiral. “For when my captain’s thrive, I thrive. We all thrive. You know how well our enterprises have gone? They were just the start. This is a time for pirates.”

“Then let’s waste no more time on swearing and get to sailing,” said Kroll.

The admiral nodded his agreement, then spoke to Geordt ‘Jambalo’,

“You know the words of the oath, Geordt. You shall speak them. And you, Kroll, must affirm all the clauses. Now, take your place in the ring.”

(https://i.imgur.com/VVSIurw.jpg)

Kroll strode into the ring, stepping over a broken augur shell, then turned to look back at the gathered officers as they shuffled over to face him better.

(https://i.imgur.com/yJ5gm30.jpg)

Geordt began immediately …

(https://i.imgur.com/2OLJkCP.jpg)

“Do you swear to obey the admiral in battle?”

“Aye,” growled Kroll.

“And to be faithful to your fleet companions in all designs?”

(https://i.imgur.com/iJpg7Qk.jpg)

“I will,” answered the ogre. “So they’d better be good designs.”

“And to strive to accomplish all ventures agreed to by vote of the fleet’s captains?”

“No point in starting what you don’t intend to finish. I’ll see everything through to the end.”

(https://i.imgur.com/X2LVzws.jpg)

“Do you promise always to attend at the agreed rendezvous, responding whenever called upon?”

“If the wind and weather can be overcome, I’ll be there.”

“Will you die fighting rather than flee from an equal number of opposers, unless ordered to do so by the admiral?”

“I have never fled any opposer, and damn them who claim I might have done. But aye, if the admiral thinks there’s nothing to be gained from a fight, then I’ll follow his orders accordingly.”

(https://i.imgur.com/DMLT9Jz.jpg)

“Will you swear never to desert your fleet companions, or leave them wounded in an enemy’s hands, if the admiral demands them back?”

“The dead can rot on the sea bottom, but aye, if the admiral wants a fellow rescued, then I’ll do what I can, for all the usual compensations.”

(https://i.imgur.com/WrZYvg6.jpg)

“Will you help your fleet companions if captured, imprisoned, sick or otherwise in need?”

“I will do as much as any pirate on this fleet, but I don’t profess any knowledge of physic.”

(https://i.imgur.com/6ZlHEZ5.jpg)

Geordt glanced at the admiral, who said,

“That’ll do. He is joining as a ship’s captain, not a ship’s surgeon.”

(https://i.imgur.com/ccqSPmP.jpg)

Geordt nodded, then continued,

“Now repeat after me: ‘And this oath, when I break in the least tittle’ …”

“And this oath, when I break in the least tittle …”

“… ‘may Manaan and Stromfell’s curse befall me’ …”

“may Manaan and Stromfell’s curse befall me …”

“… ‘and may the greatest scurvies, plagues and damnation seize me here and hereafter’.”

“And all those things, and worse if you like, for I shall never break my oath. Are we done?”

(https://i.imgur.com/6ZlHEZ5.jpg)

“We’re done, captain,” said the admiral. “Welcome to the fleet.” He turned to the crew and asked,

“What say you?”

In answer came a confusion of ‘Ayes’ and ‘Huzzah’s’, but not a complaint amongst them.

(https://i.imgur.com/iAKaZ6B.jpg)

Admiral Volker’s fleet and army had just grown that bit stronger.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 04, 2023, 11:27:53 PM
The sequel to the Battle for Ebino, being part 54 of Tilea's Troubles, is now up!

See https://youtu.be/-Nn-OXisR7M

In which we learn the real fate of a certain character, apparently lost in the battle.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 09, 2023, 02:25:16 PM
And ... back the present day. This is making me dizzy!

Admissions and Admonishments Abound

Verezzo, in the Great Hall of the Palazzo Davandati. Autumn 2404

(https://i.imgur.com/YcPOkXm.jpg)

Barone Iacopo was feeling confident about the meeting with Lord Silvano Gondi of Pavona, especially as he had recently obtained firm promises of defensive military support from Verezzo’s old ally, Ridraffa. He believed the joint forces that could thus be fielded against Pavona now matched the enemy’s strength, perhaps even exceeding it. The Mayor of Ridraffa had long been (effectively) a nominee of Verezzo. Lord Lucca himself had ensured the current mayor’s position. This made the two states natural allies, and their shared suspicions of the Pavonans’ aggression now made them keen allies also. Yet Ridraffa had not directly suffered Pavonan abuses as Verezzo had, and so of the two, the Ridraffans were a somewhat less hungry for war.

Still, Iacopo was glad the Mayor was present, so that Lord Silvano would realise he was now contending with two city states. Previously, the barone had done all he could to strengthen Verezzo’s forces, but progress was slow, due to a combination of factors, including the small funds available and the limited numbers of experienced mercenaries to hire after all the recent wars. Verezzo was not the largest of city states and so even raising native militia proved difficult, for want of able youngsters to fill the ranks.

Mayor Rafaelle was accompanied by his wife, Lorena, which was perhaps a little unusual, for this was to be a parley between warring states, not a trade discussion or social meeting. Yet her presence might lend a degree of civility to the process. Barone Iacopo was familiar enough with the young Lord Silvano to know that he was less likely give vent to unrestrained anger before a noble woman, and certainly not commit an act of assassination like a Pavonan soldier had done weeks before. The barone was happy for her to provide inhibiting influence on his own behaviour. He harboured furious hatred towards the duke, but he wanted to remain in control, to play and more subtle game and play it well. Her presence might provide a check against sudden fits of anger.

As well as Captain Muzio Vanni, the old condottiere commander of the pike regiment, now made lieutenant general of Verezzo’s army, the famous ex-brigand, Roberto Cappuccio was also present, for it was he who had most recently been the subject of Pavonan lies. Upon his return to Verezzo, after his sojourn through the realm of Pavona with his band of archers, causing as much trouble as he could (which turned out to be quite a lot), Barone Iacopo had rewarded Cappuccio’s commitment by commissioning him as Verezzo’s Scout-master General. Cappuccio had since begun wearing the livery of Verezzo, although still sported his famous green hat, and he never went anywhere without his trusty bow.

When the infamous Pettirosso came into the hall, the barone was pleased to witness momentary surprise, if not discomfort, upon the young Lord Silvano’s face. To have such a fellow as an officer surely revealed the strength of the barone’s hatred of Pavona, and strongly hinted that he knew the truth concerning the claims of the recent assassination attempt upon Duke Guidobaldo.

(https://i.imgur.com/3dKTfxg.jpg)

The young lord was accompanied by a single guard, armed with a handgun, although he had travelled with a large company of similarly armed soldiers. Perhaps, if he had attempted to bring more guards to the meeting, then objections may have been raised. But no-one thought to complain about a single companion, as such might be considered a necessary servant to accompany a nobleman, with duties beyond acting merely as an armed escort.

(https://i.imgur.com/pBIva3M.jpg)

“So, your father has finally deigned to send you to me, as I demanded many weeks ago?” said the barone. “I was not happy that he sent a babbling priest to me before, only for one of your own soldiers to slay him.”

“I myself wanted to come,” answered Silvano. “And my father, ill though he is, at last gave me leave to do so. As for the soldier’s actions, I know not what came over him. He clearly had the wrong idea concerning what was expected of him.”

(https://i.imgur.com/FdQoSFg.jpg)

Barone Iacopo fixed his eyes upon the Pavonan lord. “Oh, I think he knew full well what was expected of him, be it nothing more than to make more of a mockery of the supposed apology.”

“I wish, barone, you would not presume such wickedness on my father’s part. Mistakes have been made, but this time the guilt was that of a foolish guard.”

(https://i.imgur.com/WDh5yew.jpg)

“Are you here, then, to confess your father’s sins and pray publicly for forgiveness? Or are we to play more cruel games and hear yet more excuses and lies?

“Good barone,” said Silvano, “I humbly and honestly wish to forge a peace between our realms, in light of the new and deadly threats facing all of us. We cannot allow our realm’s disagreements to weaken us in such dangerous times.”

Iacopo, and several other of his attendants, laughed.

“And why should I believe you want peace, when your own father murdered our beloved Lord Lucca and plundered this, his realm even at a time when both vampires and ogres threatened all of Tilea? Your father had long sought any excuse to attack Verezzo - a despicable and base yearning he finally yielded to”.

The young lord stiffened, and when he spoke his words were uttered likewise,

“I am not my father.”

Iacopo was quick to respond. “An apple does not fall far from the tree.”

(https://i.imgur.com/pJo9rvL.jpg)

“You know me, barone. We marched together and took the field beside each other in the valley of Norochia, there to face hordes of ghouls and walking corpses. And with arrows, bullets, swords, and great courage, we did prevail. You and I, and those we commanded, proved ourselves that day. You know me.”

“Aye, you were there,” countered the barone. “But not your father. He was too busy robbing our realm. Murdering our master.”

The brigand Pettirosso suddenly interrupted, “I saw him and his knights slay Lord Lucca with mine own eyes.”

(https://i.imgur.com/3oWm5qn.jpg)

“And all heard his lies afterwards,” added Iacopo. “Claiming it was the VMC’s soldiers who had disguised themselves as Portomaggiorans to do the deed.”

“And now,” spat the Pettirosso, “he lies again, telling the world it was myself who attempted to assassinate him. I wish that it were, and that I had succeeded, for then vengeance would have been gained. But it was not I, despite my vow to do so, making his claims yet more lies.”

There was silence, though there was something about the young lord’s demeanour that gave the impression it was not due to him being stuck for words.

Iacopo broke the silence with a direct challenge,

“I ask you, in earnest, is everything your father utters false? Has he ever spoken a word of truth?”

Lord Silvano began silently, slowly, shaking his head, and this time answered with the slightest hint of anger in his voice.

(https://i.imgur.com/yOwd0ze.jpg)

“I am not my father, but I rule now in his stead and will rule in my own right when my father enters Morr’s garden. Pavona’s present and future lie with me. I was never party to my father’s lies, nor present when they were spoken, only later learning of them. Now I look to find those willing to befriend me, not my father.”

The Pettirosso was pointing at the young lord, quite contrary to what was customarily expected when addressing a noble superior, even of another city state.

“So, you admit your father was lying?”

Silvano answered easily, “I do, as did my father to General Valckenburgh, through me, having tasked me with explaining all that was done and why.”

(https://i.imgur.com/CIGO0ey.jpg)

“Lord Silvano,” asked Iacopo, “you would have us believe that we can trust you? How is it that you are made so much better than your father? Or is it simply that you are a good enough liar to make it appear so.”

“Since the war against Prince Girenzo, and the death of my brother,” said Silvano, “I have ever and always striven to do that which was right and proper, and to venture my own life in the defence of greater Tilea, not just Pavona. I have served the greater good, and holy Morr, both demanding and receiving permission to do so from my father. All I ask is that you judge me by my own merits.”

Iacopo put his hands on his hips and looked askance at Silvano.

“You did nothing more than the good Captain Vanni here and myself – serving in the alliance army under Lord Alessio, upon the orders of your lord and master. Why should we presume your good service makes you a more honest man? Even a goblin might obey his brute master’s commands, yet still lie with almost every utterance.”

The mayor of Ridraffa’s wife gave a polite cough, and all turned to look at her.

(https://i.imgur.com/kJz39sq.jpg)

“By your leave, barone and my lord Silvano?” she asked.

(https://i.imgur.com/B0Ygirq.jpg)

Both nobles nodded.

“Norochia was not the only time the young lord fought against the vampires,” she continued. “He was at the terrible battle of Ebino, leading the charge against the enemy’s massed ranks. There his holiness Calictus died, the army scattered, forcing Lord Silvano to ride away. But had personally led his riders into the fray. Then, having only just recovered from near fatal wounds received when bravely fighting Boulderguts’ brutes in the Battle of Via Diocleta, he marched with you, my lord, in the alliance army to fight the vampires once again. Is all this not adequate proof of Lord Silvano’s earnestness to serve the common good?”

(https://i.imgur.com/aMO3S4Q.jpg)

Iacopo had forgotten that the mayor’s wife had Gondi blood, being a cousin of Duke Guidobaldo. It seems she possessed a great interest in her relations’ affairs, or perhaps just Lord Silvano? This would hardly help her understand the duplicitousness they were capable of. And yet … it was hard to argue against her. Lord Silvano was indeed a proven hero of battle after battle. A thought tickled at the edge of his consciousness, concerning how Duke Guidobaldo kept his son busy in the wars, or more accurately why he might have done so, but he lost a hold of it when Mayor Rafaelle spoke.

“My wife speaks the truth, as you do too, Barone. There is good and bad in the Gondi family, as with any family perhaps. But we should surely not allow the faults and frailties of a dying man to prevent our proper defence of the realm?”

(https://i.imgur.com/mC2nwxf.jpg)

Lord Silvano turned to speak to Iacopo, but the barone spoke first,

“Yes, we know. You are not your father.”

(https://i.imgur.com/pBIva3M.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on February 10, 2023, 01:31:55 PM
Keep up the good work
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 11, 2023, 08:20:03 PM
I intend to. Indeed, here is Tilea's Troubles Part 55, which concerns several struggles in the Reman Church of Morr - the election of a new arch-lector anda  schismatic movement led by a ranting, radical preacher!

Please be aware, there's a full hellfire and damnation sermon in this one. I can only apologise, but the story required it, and the muse carried me along. 

See https://youtu.be/IPPLXZjECSQ

An image ...
(https://i.imgur.com/SjbuFcN.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Rowsdower on February 12, 2023, 07:01:35 AM
Can I just say it was a stroke of genius, using a piece of fabric for the table cloth. A lot of people I know have attempted to make flags and or fabric items out of greenstuff only to have the end result laughable
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 20, 2023, 05:34:15 PM
Love me some fabric.

Linen for tents and hangings ...
(https://i.imgur.com/4wnFUXP.jpg)

(Part of the pic below is my avatar!)
(https://i.imgur.com/6tVa0cT.jpg)

Silk handkerchief for a flag ...

(https://i.imgur.com/nT4jLGg.jpg)
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on February 26, 2023, 08:24:35 PM
The new Tilea's Troubles video is up! The brute ogres Mags and Brindill, then the two Compagnia del Sole chancellors Baccio and Ottaviano, discuss their woes, while Antonio Mugello's letter to Lord Lucca unfolds.

See https://youtu.be/f3VU9rdJVXY
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Padre on March 02, 2023, 06:29:45 PM
Like some others, I'll not be posting on this forum again. But my Tilean campaign (both stories and videos) will continue on my website, on YouTube and other forums, so if you are a reader or a viewer you can still see them there. I'm as full on hobby as I ever was, if not more!

I've been a part of this forum for more than 15 years. What can I say? I'll join the others who left before me in Valhalla? (Maybe I'll meet Midaski?) Or just, fare thee well.

Ta ta.
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: GamesPoet on March 02, 2023, 09:15:21 PM
Bummer to see ya go again, best of good fortune, and may the stars shine forever above you and Tilea!

 :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: Old Stonebeard on March 03, 2023, 01:45:59 AM
 :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers:::


 :::cheers::: :::cheers::: :::cheers:::


 :::cheers:::
Title: Re: Tilea's Troubles, IC2401
Post by: S.O.F on March 04, 2023, 11:25:24 PM
All the clinking mug emoji makes me feel I have to be ambeerdexterious for this farewell. Either way you will be missed sir  :::cheers:::