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This is an experiment for me, a cross between a campaign, an illustrated (in places) story and a series of battle reports. Something like I have done in several past web based campaigns. I enjoy the writing and it should allow me to play some fun games.
Anyhow, here it begins ....
All That Glistens, Part One
Map of Tabriz Town
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/1TabrizScanB.jpg)
The Bent Cutlass Inn
Port of Tabriz Pirates’ Commonwealth
Bubaqua Isle off the western coast of the southern Southlands
“Ho, Grijalva!” shouted Captain Bartholomeus Pasterkamp across the smoke filled room. He could not see where the innkeeper was, or even if he was there at all, so he made the shout as loud as possible. It woke several of the drunken denizens snoring nearby and startled the remainder, easily done considering there had been nothing more than muttering for the last quarter of an hour.
“What?” answered Grijalva, himself one of those woken by the cry. “What?” he repeated, this time more angrily as he came to his senses and annoyance replaced his initial surprise. “Who is that shouting?”
“Here! It’s me!” said Captain Bartholomeus almost as loudly as before. Several rum addled men scowled at him, including (he noticed) some of his own. “You know me. It ain’t as if we ain’t sailed together. You gone deaf or are ya just riddled with wax?”
“Neither, Captain,” came the answer as the smoke, a mixture arising from tobacco pipes, the ashes of the fire and the blackened remains of a wild pig upon the spit, parted like threadbare stage curtains through which the innkeeper emerged. He had upon his head the woollen hat he always wore, a garment entirely out of keeping with the close heat of Bubaqua. His beer belly stretched tight the linen of what was intended to be a baggy shirt, as well as ensuring his leather waistcoat’s buttons had not seen service for years. Little, round eyeglasses sat upon the top of his nose. He only used these when reading or writing yet never removed in between, thus the rest of the time he peered over the top of them.
“Now you tell me, old friend, what ails thee? And if it’s thirst, why not call for a wench?”
“I’m always thirsty,” answered Bartholomeus with a distant look in his eye, “ever since the sun got to me that time, burning right into me and turning a portion of my brain into brawn. Cooked I was, and not rare but well done. Braised by the bright rays and the jungle steam, boiled in my own sweat …”
“Bart!” interrupted the innkeeper. “I’ve heard it all before and have no wish to hear it all again. I know you didn’t call me over here simply to wax lyrical about old injuries, so I’ll ask again: what ails thee?”
Captain Bartholomeus pretended to be hurt by the innkeeper’s words. He pulled himself up straight and tugged at his long, blond wig to make it sit a little more squarely upon his head. He had always been a proud man when it came to dress, often claiming that one could surely tell a proper gentleman by his attire. He himself took the lesson to heart. His long red coat of finely patterned damask was trimmed with golden braid and bound at his waist by a silken yellow scarf and at his neck he sported an almost clean cambric cloth, a whiteness rarely seen in Tabriz and only spoiled by a line or two of yellowish stains from the sweat.
He reached out so that his hand emerged from the large cuff upon his coat sleeve, uncurled a finger to point at the table immediately next to his, then he corrected his aim to direct Grijalva’s gaze specifically at the man sprawled across it.
“Your question, my kind if impatient host, should be directed not at me but at him, for if I am not mistaken he’s dead.”
Grijalva peered at the recumbent patron in question, making no move as yet towards him, and attempted to ascertain if the fellow was indeed breathing or not.
The Captain, meanwhile, went on. “But then, unless he was one of the accursed undead, you wouldn’t be getting much of an answer out of him would you? Even if he were such an unholy thing, then any words his rotten tongue might try to deliver would be, no doubt, completely indecipher ... incomprehend-idabible… in … un … What’s the word I’m after?”
“Don’t know,” said Grijalva. “I can’t tell what you’re saying.”
“I didn’t ask for a definition,” said the Captain.
The innkeeper was not really listening to the Captain, being quite distracted by the appearance of a corpse in his inn. Then it dawned on him who it was - Webbe Nijman - because that was where he always sat and that was the lousy shirt he always wore. This realisation settled him considerably, and he gave a snorting laugh laced with relief.
“If he’s anything, then it’s dead drunk, not plain dead,” he said more to himself than the captain. “Let me take a look.”
Now feeling much more confident he strode over, grabbed the man by his matted hair and yanked his head up to take a look at his face. It was Webbe alright, and he appeared to be just on the right side of the seam that separates the quick and the dead.
“He’s alive. Drunker than I’ve ever seen him, granted, but alive. He can sleep it off here and not in the Doss House, after all it’s me he owes for the punch he’s had and I don’t want him slipping away all quiet and forgetful.”
He was just about to lower Webbe’s head back onto the table to let it lie there in a puddle of said punch, when he stopped. There was something around Webbe’s neck a- coin by the looks of it, like a lucky gold piece touched by some king and now hanging on a cord.
“What have we got here?” asked Grijalva. “Webbe Nijman, you rogue, you owe me for a fortnight’s drink and promised me you’d pay in silver when your share came in. And yet here, dangling from your own neck, there’s gold.”
Turning to Captain Bartholomeus, he pulled the coin out to show him. “You’re witness. He owes me and I’m taking this for payment. When he sobers up you can vouch for me. This ain’t theft, but the collection of monies owed.
The Captain, however, was frowning, staring at the coin hanging down over Grijalva’s fingers. When the innkeeper noticed Bartholomeus’ strange expression, he too looked more closely at the coin. It was gold, that much was true (and was all he had really bothered to take in before) but it was bigger than any minted in Bretonnia or the Empire, heavier than any from Marienburg, Araby or indeed any port in the entire Old World. Furthermore, there was no monarch’s head impressed upon it, nor coat of arms; no god or even a denomination. Instead there was a blazing sun with stars set about it in a neat circle. He flipped it over to scrutinise the reverse, where he discovered the face of a serpent surrounded by geometric swirls.
A voice suddenly broke the reverie that had ensnared him.
"What is that?” asked the Captain, having got up to walk over to Grijalva’s side.
The innkeeper held the coin up for Captain Bartholomeus to view and even managed to take his eyes off it to see what the fellow made of it. The Captain paused a moment to rub his good eye, then squinted at the coin. A smile manifested upon his face.
“Ahhh! You know what that is, my friend, andwhere it comes from.”
“Aye, I do,” said the innkeeper.
“Then let’s wake old Webbe up and see about having him explain this to the Pirate Council. If he can show us whence it came, it’ll take a lot more than me and thee to get there and collect the rest. There’ll be a very mountain of gold no doubt, enough to keep every Tabrizian happy for years to come. No small sum, no small sum at all”
"We’ll do that,” said Grijalva loudly. Then much closer to the Captain’s ear he whispered, “And the Six will be interested to. There’ll be more than gold there, maybe even what our master wants.”
Bartholomeus appeared to have sobered up instantly. His face flared with anger at Grijalva’s words, but he kept it turned so that no one else in the inn could see it. Loudly, and in a voice almost as jovial as before, he said, “Gold, you say! The council will be interested, and will indeed want mastery of such a place.”
With that the Captain grabbed a goblet, leaned down and used it to scoop out some of the contents of a pot under the table, then threw the stinking stuff in Webbe’s face.
Webbe woke to see his gold coin dancing before his eyes and could just make out someone talking about ‘doing some explaining’. Just as he began to wonder whether he had his knife on him, he found himself being lifted and dragged by two of Grijalva’s heavies. Still befuddled he was unable to summon the energy to protest, never mind to fight.
Captain Bartholomeus and Grijalva leading the way to the Council Fort as Webbe is ‘escorted’ behind by Grijalva’s hired thugs Goncalo Po and Alonso de Ovando.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic1.jpg)
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Saw that wonderful map at the top, and said to myself "wow, if he's got terrain for all that."
And then the first picture I see, terrain! :::cheers:::
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Sounds like a great project! I eagerly await developments...
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Saw that wonderful map at the top, and said to myself "wow, if he's got terrain for all that."
And then the first picture I see, terrain! :::cheers:::
You even doubted for a moment :icon_lol:
Cracking stuff Padre, and those pirates bring back some good roleplaying memories too :::cheers:::
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All That Glistens, Part Two
Pirates’ Council Fort, Commonwealth of Tabriz
“Order, order! Please gentlemen will you hold your tongues?” was Wilfred Mostert’s desperate cry, but it could barely be heard above the din.
Umpteen captains and their closest men argued, laughed, bragged and cursed, and the whole interior of the fort (unusual in Tabriz in that it was mostly made of stone) rebounded with the resulting clamour. Few even knew that Wilfred had spoken, though considering they had only just elected him chairman of this meeting then had they put their minds to it they should have realised that he would probably attempt to address them at some point.
Wilfred once had a reputation as a fearsome captain, believed to have led a very bloody mutiny to capture his ship the Terrible Corsair. Since then, however, he had shown little evidence of his supposed ferocity. Many Tabrizians had begun to question the tales they had heard about him, with some even claiming he must merely have poisoned the crew to capture the ship then cut their bodies to make it look like the act of a dangerous fighter and so his standing had somewhat diminished over the months. The propagation of this particular rumour was fanned by the fact that none of the three fellow mutineers who had somehow sailed the Terrible Corsair into the harbour of Tabriz were currently around to speak against it, all apparently having gone off with other ships’ companies.
The horn had been blown an hour ago to call whichever captains with the honour of being members of the council - at least those who could be bothered - to gather at the fort, and eight had come. There they learned that the meeting had been called by Grijalva of the Bent Cutlass Inn, backed apparently by Captain Bartholomeus. Of course Grijalva was no council member, nor even one of their trusted crewmen, but considering that the council’s meetings nearly always involved a vote to shift the rest of the business from the fort to his inn and thus he, as their host, heard just about everything they said, no one objected to him calling them. Besides, they would object soon enough if they did not like what he had to say.
Unable to begin the meeting, Wilfred already wanted to move it to the inn, thwarted in his desire by the very reason for his frustration - his inability to get a word in. He stood at the head of the table dressed wholly in black, apart from a green waistcoat, his left hand resting upon the hilt of a peculiarly diminutive cutlass little more than a knife in length. Tucked into his belt was a pistol, the butt of which his other hand currently caressed as an idea flickered into his mind.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic2.jpg)
He happened to be the only captain there who had come alone - each of the others had one or two of their crew with them, often a quartermaster (who in many ways had as much authority as a captain, at least when it came to day to day ship affairs if not in the council) or one or two of their ‘sea artists’: their gunner, bosun, surgeon or some such. The Tilean Captain Claudio Sagrada was closest to Wilfred, slouched upon an old armchair so rotten and worm eaten it appeared to be fashioned from driftwood, whilst his brown booted feet rested upon the table itself. His huge, black, felt hat overshadowed his face leaving only the chin visible. It happened to be the most clean shaven of all the chins at the meeting, for Claudio was a vain fellow and still in the prime of his youth, with black locks of thickly curled hair flowing onto a buff leather waistcoat, whilst his shirt was of a copious quantity of white silk so that the generous sleeves hung down almost a foot from his arms. Noticing the chairman’s hand on his pistol he watched Wilfred with amusement, realising even before the idea was fully settled in Wilfred’s own mind what he was about to do.
The thunderous crack of the pistol’s discharge silenced every man in the room. When all eyes turned upon him, Wilfred spoke quickly and loudly, “As chairman I declare the meeting has begun. I now ask Grijalva what cause he has for calling it.”
Every head swung about to look at the innkeeper, who immediately fished a gold coin out of his pocket and tossed it onto the long oaken table before them. As it clattered to a halt, it became clear to all that it was not a coin but some sort of heavy, circular ornament attached to a leather cord. Then the sun-image upon it’s obverse was seen.
There was silence for all of three seconds - a rarity indeed - as everyone stared at the golden artefact. Then Thodrin Hookhand, the white bearded Dwarfen Pirate spoke in his gruffer than gruff voice, employing as ever very few words, “Where d'you find that?”
In answer Grijalva ordered his thugs to bring Webbe forward. This they did, with Goncalo Po almost dangling the poor man off the ground by the scruff of his neck. Grijalva pointed at him.
“He had it about his neck. Ask him.”
Webbe grimaced as his eyes darted about the room, attempting to take in all those he had been brought up before. He felt like he was on trial, and knew he must choose his words carefully. These men were unlikely to take kindly to the fact that he had been keeping such a secret from them.
Claudio Sagrada dragged his boots from the table and leaned forward in his seat, “Speak man, and keep in mind it will go best for you if you do so both truthfully and immediately.”
“Erm, well you see, your honours, it were a long time ago and what with the passing of years and the drinking of hot liquors the details have become foggy in my mind, not that they were something I was over fond of recollecting in the first place…”
“Blathering fool,” interrupted Captain Erther Madric of the Earnest Trader, while one of his half-orcen crewmen growled throatily behind him and the little brown monkey upon his shoulder snarled to as if attempting to add to the menace. “You were asked where you found it, now get to answering and quick otherwise you shall find out how limited is my patience.”
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic3.jpg)
“The jungle, it was, deep, d-deep in the dark jungle,” stammered Webbe, his words falling over each other. “In the great land to the east, a long way down the river, more swamp than river in places, farther than any northern man had ever gone afore. There was a city, the like o’ which I ain’t never seen since, great stones piled up into steps, making mountainous temples. It was a place of disease and death where men went mad just looking. That’s the place - I found it there.”
“You’ve never talked o’ this before,” said Grijalva. “Who did you serve? Which captain took you there?”
“It weren’t a pirate, no, but an Arabyan lord, brother to a caliph. They had me fettered to an oar upon one of their great baghlas, then took me an’ the other slaves into the jungle to make us carry for them. But I never ‘ad to carry, see, for I dreamt they all died an’ I crawled away on my belly an’ I never looked back to see what monstrous creature killed them. Then I found the gold, lying on the ground, and I thought to take it as recompense an’ for good luck, which it proved to be for I was the only one to escape.”
“If that is true,” asked Wilfred, “then how did you make your way back to coast? You said you were far inland.”
“I dreamt that too,” answered Webbe, inscrutably, “lying in one of the boats I was, floating downstream for more nights than I could count. Sometimes I paddled, sometimes despaired, but by and by I came to the sea.” He looked down at the golden disc, now speaking so quietly that all present leaned forward to hear him. “Lucky it is, see? And my escape was proof of it.”
“It is lucky, I’ll grant you that,” said Captain Sagrada. “And now we can share in that luck, eh?”
Webbe blanched, for he knew full well what these men would want to do - it was that certain knowledge that had spurred him to keep the precious disc secret for so long.
“I ain’t never going back there, not never - it’s bad enough it’s in my dreams, but I ain’t going down that river again.”
“Is that so?” asked Captain Bartholomeus. “Then you shall at least take us to its mouth.”
Wilfred banged the butt of his pistol on the table to get Webbe’s attention. “Where is the river mouth?”
“I know where it is, but you won’t like what I have to say, for it’s close by ‘Urry By Island.”
Once again silence fell. Never before had the council had reason to be so quiet so often. None needed to speak to explain their momentary silence, for all knew they were each thinking the same thing. The three-peaked Hurry By Island was rumoured to be the base of the bloodsucking vampire pirate known as Grand Admiral Galdabash, and considering he had an entire fleet of the dead serving him, it was a place very aptly named. Every man in the room lusted for that city of gold, but every one now wondered whether the rewards would be worth the risk.
The council had a decision to make!
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Part Three
Off the Coast of the Southlands
All hands in the fleet had been awake when they passed to the east of Hurry By Island, scrutinising the forested slopes and white beaches, as well as the sea upon each side for signs of danger, yet none had come. By nightfall only a few of the naturally fearful assumed the worst - that any attack from the undead pirates would surely begin after dark. The vast majority were happy to agree that Grand Admiral Galdabash must have moved on from the island, no doubt upon some cruise of his own.
Only three days later the Tabrizian ships were anchored in 30 fathoms of water about a quarter of a league out from the mouth of a wide river. Every perspective glass, every lunette d’approche and every eye that was not purblind or permanently ruined by years of glaring sun was trained upon the hills flanking the entrance, and with good reason, for it was obvious that there was a settlement of some sort upon the northernmost one. Several ships’ boats approached closer to peruse the hill in question, and when they returned the news spread like wildfire throughout the fleet - there were defensive works upon the hill. Nothing too fancy, just some scattered palisades, banks and stormpoles, but at the very top there was a ramshackle bastion which sported a huge artillery piece, a forty or fifty pounder by the looks of it, perhaps more. It was the kind of cannon only the largest of galleons could hope to carry and it was aimed down at the river mouth.
Its purpose was obvious - to fire upon anyone foolish enough to attempt passage from the sea into the river. A shot from that piece could tear a huge ragged hole in any of the fleet’s ships, being as they were the light, fast, clean and weatherly sort of vessels that pirates most desired - sloops, brigantines and caravels. None were made to withstand that kind of heavy shot, they would be shivered and splintered for certain. And if the cannon was loaded with sangranel and swan shot, chain or double head, then it would without doubt tear masts, rigging and men to pieces, and pour horrible destruction down on any boats if the pirates attempted instead to take pinnaces and boats up the river. As for accuracy, it would surely have been carefully sighted and already tested so that it was trained exactly where it needed to be.
One solution was to attack the bastion and spike the gun, which considering the strength of the fleet might not be thought too difficult. The trouble was, however, that the crews of the boats’ reports had not ended there. After a silent prayer to whichever god they thought might listen, they had revealed that the hill was occupied by what must surely be part of Galdabash’s forces. His ensign, a death’s head flanked by a dagger and a heart, above a single bone, had been spotted flying upon the summit near the cannon, and the breeze had carried the sickly sweet stench of death from the shore. Little had been seen of the garrison, but their shambling gait and the accompanying clouds of fat flies were enough to prove they were undead.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPicPreBattleA1.jpg)
If the decision made to embark upon this venture had been difficult, then now they faced a much more difficult one: who would go ashore to attack the gun? The captains gathered aboard the flagship, the Ocean Blight, for it was Captain Bartholomeus who had been elected admiral of the fleet. There the options were argued over: whether to draw straws or to use dice; whether to have each crew send half of its men, each to decide on the method of choosing. In the end a much more agreeable system was chosen. The captains would volunteer for the job (with their crews’ voted consent, as was always necessary for a change in agreed strategy), and every man who saw the job through to the end would receive a whole extra share when the booty from the city was divided.
This was enough and several crews volunteered. Captain Bartholomeus and his men were first to put themselves forwards, being able to vote before the other captains had even returned to their ships. Much to his consternation, Wilfred Mostert discovered his double vote (as captain, of course, his own vote counted as two) could not save him, and his crew, including the Arabyan swordsmen regiment sent by the Tabrizian agha Zazarri Marwan, voted to join the attack. The others included Thodrin Hookhand’s slayer dwarfs, the ‘other Bart’, Bartolomeo del Portes, and finally Captain Claudio Sagrada who volunteered to provide artillery pieces and their crews to support the attack. There was some grumbling that artillerymen could surely not expect a full share, but most accepted that just landing on the shore and arraying for battle against such a foe was deserving sufficient to earn the reward.
As the boats with the attacking force set off towards the shore, upon the bastion there was silence. The dead rarely speak. Four rotting men stood perfectly still ready to fire at their master’s command, while a fifth clung with one gangrenous hand to the palisade, his legs so mangled that he was barely able to stand.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPicPreBattleA2.jpg)
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Army lists for the upcoming battle report ....
The Pirates of Tabriz Fleet Vanguard Force
(Legal Composition) Empire Roster, 1999 Pts
LORD: Admiral Bartholomeus Pasterkamp
General; Pistol; Sword of Power; Jade Amulet
HERO: Captain Wilfred Mostert
Pistol; Sword of Battle; Talisman of Protection
HERO: Captain Bartolomeo del Portes
Hand Weapon; Sword of Striking; The White Cloak
HERO: Engineer/Captain Claudio Sagrada
Hand Weapon; Repeater Pistol
CORE: Pasterkamp's Crew - 25 Free Company, FC, Extra Hand Weapon
CORE: Mostert's Crew Crew - 25 Free Company, FC, Extra Hand Weapon
CORE: Zazarri Marwan's Regiment - 25 Swordsmen, FC + Det of 10 Crossbow
CORE: 10 Pasterkamp's Handgunners
CORE: 10 Mostert's Handgunners
CORE: 10 Bartolomeo's Handgunners
SPECIAL: Artillery - 3 Great Cannons & 1 Mortar
RARE: Hookhand's Slayers (as DoW Long Drong’s) - 21 Slayer Pirates + Thodrin
RARE: 10 Bartolomeo's Duellists (as DoW Duellists); Musician; Champion
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Galdabash's Zombie Pirates
Old White Dwarf Luthor Harkon Zombie Pirates Roster, 1877 pts
LORD: Grand Admiral Galdabash (as Luthor Harkon)
HERO: Vampire Fleet Captain - Brace of Pistols; Moonshine
HERO: Vampire Fleet Captain - Brace of Pistols; Bloody Norah!
HERO: Vampire Fleet Captain - Battle Standard; Dead Man’s Chest
CORE: 25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob; Mus
CORE: 25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob; Mus; Standard
CORE: 25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob; Mus; Standard
CORE: 10 Zombie Pirates Gunnery Mob
CORE: 2 Bloated Corpses
CORE: 14 Scurvy Dogs
SPECIAL: 5 Animated Hulks (undead ogres)
SPECIAL: 2 Carronades (small cannons)
RARE & SPECIAL: Queen Bess (250 points!)
Scenario notes
Objectives:
- The Tabrizian Pirates are to try to disable/destroy the Queen Bess (a giant cannon) so that the fleet can pass by the river mouth.
- The undead pirates want to stop them, so that they can deny access to the river (Galdabash has forces up river searching for a certain mythical city).
Other considerations:
The Zombies have some defences - sharpened stakes called Stormpoles and some palisades, and so have slightly less points. There is also the fact that the 250 pt Queen Bess might easily blow up if fired (it requires two artillery dice to be rolled and is thus twice as likely as a normal cannon to blow up) and as that would be default win for the Tabrizians it could only be fired in desperation. Thus 250 points are tied up with a practically unuseable gun, which again balances the fact that the Zombies have terrain much favouring them.
The battle to last 7 turns (like the old 6th edition siege scenario).
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The plot thickens! Will there be pygmies later on? We can only hope...
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That is one beast of a cannon!
I must dig out my old white dwarf and read the zombie pirate rules again. You wouldn't know the number would you?
I think the Tabriz cannons will make mincemeat out of the zombies, even though they're defending their stockade. I've half a mind to drive up to the dark lands of up north just to watch the battle! :D
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@ Inarticulate: I have it here in my hands - WD306.
Your comments are interesting, in light of what did happen in the game. Yes, it's already been fought and it was great fun to watch - two players took command of my armies while I refereed and took pictures and notes. Although the battle is done, the time consuming work of putting the report together means it'll be a few days yet before it appears. They sometimes take a long while to put together!
@ Von Kurst: You know my figure collection too well! Considering the story is set in the Southlands and concerns a journey to find a fabled jungle city then yeah, maybe the little fellers will show their ugly mugs at some point.
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Can´t wait for the battle report! :eusa_clap:
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Well considering the very high quality and obvious effort that goes into your excellent bat reps, I have no problems with waiting just that little bit longer!
EDIT: Christ! just read the rules for Queen Bess. Thats a rather horrific cannon right there. Why don't the empire have one of those?!
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... just read the rules for Queen Bess. Thats a rather horrific cannon right there. Why don't the empire have one of those?
Yeah, when it's good it really is good. But at 2 artillery dice + guess for the bounce, it is not easy to hit, and at 1/3 chance of one misfire every shot, and a 1/36 chance of 2 misfires (you have to roll on the chart for every misfire rolled) it's much more likely not to survive the battle than a normal cannon. A 1/9 chance of blowing up every time it fires, so in a game of 7 turns if it fired every round it would have a more than 1/2 chance of blowing itself up by the end of the game. Considering the enemy's objective was to destroy said cannon in this scenario, they were NOT keen to use it.
Interestingly WD were at pains to point out that the list is a FULLY legal list, provided Special Characters were allowed, as it requires the inclusion of a special character.
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I've got to agree that it's pretty unpredictable, but it is made by a rather oddly-behaving undead bloodsucker that only has some drooling zombies to talk to and I imagine their conversation to be rather dull.
I don't hold much respect for mathhammer, I'd rather take my chances on the roll of the dice, the strike of ivory (*cough* plastic *cough*) on the green and the expertise of my powder monkey.
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... I'd rather take my chances on the roll of the dice, the strike of ivory (*cough* plastic *cough*) on the green ...
I actually have some genuine bone dice (they were historically called 'bones' amongst other things) for re-enacting, as well as some pewter dice. The bone ones are a bit more fun to roll, strangely, though I could not put into words why!
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Perhaps cause the bones are smooth and soft, lightly caressing the table as they bounce along in all their evil glory? I imagine the pewter one's are more clunky and cold sounding when they land against the tabletop. :icon_wink:
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Pewter ones can be artillery dice then.
I'd imagine the bone ones to be still slightly warm from the blood that flowed over it on the pile of skulls dedicated to Khorne.
*the ground trembles as Mathi's popemobile picks up speed*
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Part Four
A Fearful Day
First part of the Battle of the Dunes
Nigh upon twenty packed boats of various sizes made their way towards the shore, the smaller ones riding the choppy waters and almost tossing their occupants overboard as they got close. Only the Arabyan Swordsmen wore armour and they were in one of the larger boats, so none were in too much danger. Besides, considering what faced them, high waves were the least of their concerns.
As the force splashed and waded through the surf the umpteen handgunners amongst them tried to keep their pieces high above the water. Being salty sea dogs of some considerable experience all had of course waxed their pans for protection and several were carrying glass jars with coils of matchcord inside so that it too would remain dry. Once upon the dry sand, while the handgunners poked the wax out of their pans, broke open the jars and fiddled with flints and steels to light their matches, the captains and mates immediately began ordering everyone into fighting bodies ready to advance up and over the scattered dunes. Ahead was the rising ground where, just before the thick tangle of the jungle, rose the fortified hill upon which the ghastly undead had placed their ‘Queen Bess’. Unexpectedly, the huge cannon was still aimed at the river, and stayed so while the undead mustered their own companies on the slopes in a grisly parody of the Tabrizian pirates’ deployment.
It occurred to many of the living seamen that if the great gun hadn’t shifted position then it might not be used against them in this battle. Perhaps Galdabash was more keen to ensure no boats used the battle as a diversion so that they might attempt to slip by? Though it was another, less tactical thought that was in the forefront of many a Tabrizian’s mind - it was entirely possible that amongst the undead foe stood some of their old accomplices and crewmates. This sent a shudder through all those who thought it, followed by a second shudder when the wondered whether by nightfall they too might join the undead ranks.
The field of battle was horribly empty of any form of cover. Between the dunes and the foot of the hill there stretched an open space, flanked on the right by the river mouth. On the expansive lower slopes of the hill were two thin lines of sharpened stakes, with a dangerously inviting gap in the middle that must surely have been left so that some form of counterattack could be launched. Unless, perhaps, Galdabash’s unliving slaves had simply not yet had time to complete their defences?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle1-1.jpg)
As the main battle line arrayed itself, the Estalian Captain Bartolomeo del Portes led his skirmishing company of Duellists up on the far right flank, across the rough ground along the bank of the river mouth. He had it in mind to steal the glory and sneak up to the Queen Bess while the rest of the army entertained the foe with their deaths. To his left Claudio Sagrada, acting as Engineer, emplaced a brace of cannons upon a dune, so that he could lend skilled help to whichever one took his fancy. Below him, towards the centre of the Tabrizian line, was the reluctant Captain Wilfred Mostert and his crew, standing sullenly while Mostert tried to look as if he was in a fighting mood that day.
The real centre of the Tabrizian line was made up of the three companies of Handgunners, provided by each of the captains present, as well as the fleet’s admiral Captain Bartholomeus Pasterkamp and his crew and the Slayer Dwarfs of Thodrin Hookhand. All in all, it was a solid enough looking centre. Out to the left was a mortar, occupying the same dune as an Arabyan detachment of crossbowmen. Beyond them marched the Black-clad Arabyan swordsmen, and finally out on the very left, a single cannon (the crew of which were fervently praying that they would seem insignificant to the foe and thus not draw their attention).
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle6.jpg)
Grand Admiral Galdabash himself was present at the hill-fort, having returned from the interior partly to ensure his river mouth defences were still intact and partly upon some dark business that only he knew. Now that the Tabrizian fleet had arrived he was glad he was present, so that he could command his forces to fight rather more intelligently than they otherwise would. His shattered mind, however, was still unstable, and he knew that there might (as ever) be extended periods of the fight in which he barely knew what was happening himself. Not that he cared, being so filled with rage and hatred that any other thoughts faded into insignificance.
While his mind was in balance, he acted quickly and ordered his force for battle. His Handgunners he emplaced in the stockade at the hill’s summit, there to provide something in the way of gunfire but more importantly to act as a last defence should anything get close to the stockade and Queen Bess. A little further down the slope he placed his two small cannons, or ‘carronades’, where they might fire over the heads of the rest of his force arrayed even lower downhill. Then came his battle line, including three massed bodies of regimented zombies behind the storm-poles, with two bloated corpses shambling in their rear. His three captains were amongst them, though a pair of them shared command of one of the regiments (one carrying the army battle standard) thus leaving the rightmost regiment of undead pirates without an officer of any kind. He himself stood to the left of the centre, leading his company of massive zombified Ogres; while out on the far left moved his large pack of Scurvy Dogs, ready to be unleashed upon his command to move at speed against the foe.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle2-1.jpg)
The crews of the two carronades stood like statues, what remnants were left of their minds being entirely empty. Only the firing of their pieces could snap them out of their catatonic state, for then they would reload just as they had done in life so many times, going through the sequence of motions with barely any need for thought.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle3.jpg)
In the massed ranks and file of Zombies, however, there was a species of thought. Each individual could hardly be said to have had much ‘on their mind’ but as a body somehow they became more than the sum of their parts, from which was born a brooding anger ready to spur them on to hack, slash and kill for their master.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle4.jpg)
Galdabash himself glanced to his left, and raised his huge curved blade in the air ready to signal his dogs. The two cannons paired upon the enemy’s right had caught his eye, and he now knew exactly what he wanted his dogs to do.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle5.jpg)
Claudio Sagrada, meanwhile, had no idea just how fast those dogs could run. If he had known he would surely not have stood there quite as pleased with himself, idly imagining that the two cannons he commanded were like a pair of monstrous pistols that he could wield as if he were a giant. He even had a smile on his face as he entertained himself with his musings! That smile was not going to last.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle7.jpg)
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That larger cannon looks suspiciously like a bullet casing...
Oh and poor Claudio and his rather obese gun crews!
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This is great Padre :icon_eek:
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Fantastic :::cheers:::
I am not sure if I am for the pirates ore the pirates....well perhaps some ninja will show up and show them.
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Part Five
A Fearful Day
Second part of the Battle of the Dunes
Captain Bart, admiral of the fleet and commander of the landing force, stood with his own crewmen. His first mate Lisbeth Boone, one of a number of very tough women amongst the fighting pirates of Tabriz, stood to one side of him pointing out which enemy regiment she reckoned was the strongest; while one of the ship’s younkers, the youngest of the foremast men, blew rather annoyingly upon a horn to the other side. The captain’s standard was carried by an old hand in the front rank, with ostrich feathers added to denote that his was the first company, the general’s regiment, for that was what he effectively was now that he had landed and led an army upon dry land.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle8.jpg)
Suddenly there was an eerie sound, a sort of growling or gurgling, that lolled across the field from the direction of the foe. It sent a chill down the spine of every living man arrayed there, a chill turned into a shiver by the sight of movement from the foe. Galdabash’s magically animated force of walking corpses had as one began their advance. The fastest of all the undead were the Scurvy Dogs who fair-leapt across the field in a very good mockery of living hounds. It was obvious they would reach Claudio Sagrada’s dune-top battery, and that only Wilfred Mostert’s company were close enough to attempt to get in their way. Mostert himself desperately glanced about to see if there was anything else he could do, or anyone who might be able to step in and do what was needed instead of him. When he saw that the hideous form of the vampire Lord Galdabash himself, leading his fearful undead Ogres was heading in his direction too, it suddenly did not seem such a bad thing that he and his men might have to fight the snarling dogs. They had to be an easier opponent than the towering monsters and a vampire infamous throughout the southern hemisphere.
Upon the hill, the three large bodies of zombies also moved forwards, shambling through the protective screen of sharpened stakes towards the cowering foe in the distance. Not one of them cared what bullets or balls might plough through their ranks, nor even if a grenado from the foe’s ‘murdering piece’ would tear them apart. Maybe when you cannot even recall your own name it is hard to care about what happens to you?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle10.jpg)
Although the zombie rank and file might not have been thinking about enemy’s shot, the firing of their own artillery pieces - the two carronades on the slope above the regiments of zombies - had a rather mixed effect. While one tore through Captain Thodrin’s Slayer Dwarfs to kill three of them in one moment, the other blew itself up. Apparently gun maintenance in Galdabash’s rotting army was not a priority. The gun in question scattered rusty shards of iron from its barrel for many yards around the smoking remains of its now smoking, worm eaten carriage.
Captain Mostert had no real choice, for he could not stand and watch while the cannons were destroyed – not when the battle in many ways depended on the effectiveness of those same cannons. With this in mind he and his men charged at the festering dogs, just managing to intercept them at the foot of the dune.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle9.jpg)
As Mostert reluctantly led the desperate charge, the rest of the army made its opening moves. On the far left flank the Arabyan Swordsmen marched around the stony ground before them, while in the centre Thodrin’s dwarfs took a more direct route towards the hill. Captain del Portes and his own men, experts in swordplay all, picked their way along the bank of the river slipping on the wet stones.
Four booming blasts burst over the battlefield as the pirates three light cannons (Note: as DoW or Dwarf cannons) and mortar opened fire. A dramatic moment indeed, ruined only by the fact that not one of them hit their targets – doing little more than scattering dirt up into the air. Sadly, the handgunners (aiming like the cannons at the hulking undead ogres) failed also to do any damage. The result was that Galdabash failed even to notice that the enemy had just targeted his unit. His attention, like the gunners’ aim, was elsewhere.
Mostert and his lads did not do so badly against the scurvy dogs, hacking enough of them down to weaken the very magic binding them together in undeath and so another two, otherwise untouched by sword or axe, succumbed to the forces of nature and became simply dead once more. Mostert even started to think perhaps this day would not be so bad after all. He was wrong, about as wrong as a man could get, because the very moment he began to enjoy the hack and slash, Galdabash decided he and his ogres would smash into Mostert’s flank.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle11.jpg)
Annoyingly for Galdabash, due to the sheer size of the monstrous zombies he was leading, he found himself stranded out beyond the combat. Still, he reckoned he would have plenty of opportunity to kill before the day was out. Out in the centre of the field his three regiments of Zombies seemed to share his enthusiasm to get to grips with the foe, and they raced downhill. (Game Note: we forgot in turn two that none of these zombies could march, as per the rules of undeath, but by turn three when we realised it was too late to go back. Ah well, honest mistake!)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle12.jpg)
Of course poor Mostert and his crew did not stand a chance against the vicious and powerful foes in their flank. As they began to fall in droves those still alive thought better of waiting their turn. Within moments the entire regiment, Mostert amongst them, turned and fled pell mell towards the river. This was an unfortunate choice of direction for they poured through Bartolomeo’s Duellists, who where so overwhelmed by the sense of panic that they joined them in flight. Galdabash himself, however, ran forwards in pursuit and suddenly encountered one of Claudio’s cannons. The Tilean and his gunners, watching the streaming flight of men at the bottom of the dune and then faced with the horrendous visage of the Vampire Lord bearing down upon them, also chose to take to their heels – along with Claudio! No-one knows why, but the second crew chose instead to stand and fight. Perhaps they saw the first of the Duellists and Mostert’s crew splashing into the waters of the tidal river mouth and decided they would rather perish to Galdabash’s blade than drown slowly?
Thus it was that the Tabrizian right flank was utterly destroyed and dispersed. The sight of it would surely be thought to make all the rest despair, but instead it made them desperate to achieve what they came here for before the Vampire could turn his attention upon them. The entire line surged forwards as fast as they could march, aiming for the hill where Queen Bess sat. The zombies where in their way, but the pirates thought ‘damn them’ (ironic when one considers the zombies were indeed damned) and rushed on regardless. They outnumbered the foe in regiments and companies, and so thought that even if some Tabrizians were stopped by the foe, the others might still break through.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle13.jpg)
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Yarr, matey! A fine tale and no mistake!
I was sure those Empire Great Cannon would chew up the zombie lines, but you wisely made them DoW guns. Excellent.
Waiting for the clash of armies in the center.
Have a pint on me.
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Part Six
Third part of the Battle of the Dunes
As the Tabrizian seamen began their desperate dash, their mortar launched another grenado aiming for the huge cannon in the hill-top stockade. The crew hoped that by knocking out said beast early they could hastily leave this forsaken beach and return to the safety of the fleet. This time their aim was good, and although the grenado failed to harm the Queen Bess it did tear apart four of her five crew. Another shot like that and Galdabash could find himself without servants able to crew it (though there were still three zombies on the little carronade who might have skill enough left over from their past life to load and fire her). The last ‘surviving’ zombie gunner did not even flinch, instead merely leaning down to pick up the smouldering matchcord clutched in a dismembered hand at his feet. The Queen Bess was still loaded, and the only thought he had in the fragment of a mind left to him was to fire her when his master willed it.
The Zombie regiments in the centre were now close enough to launch their charges and all three of them did just that. The effect was overwhelming for the Tabrizian forces, for the undead just had weight of numbers on their side and the mere sight of them shambling onwards (and so close) frightened two of the pirate regiments so much that they first stumbled and then ran away. Captain Bart’s crew and his handgunners both streamed off towards the surf, leaving Thodrin’s dwarfs and Mostert’s handgunners in the centre, the Arabyan swordsmen to the left and the Estalian handgunners bravely attempting to make a stand on the right flank fighting off a regiment of undead that outnumbered them more than two to one.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle14.jpg)
A moment later the two foulest, most noisome undead creatures upon the field of battle, walking corpses bloated almost to the point of bursting by foetid gases and held in one piece only by rotting shrouds, moved up to stand right on front of the swordsmen and the dwarfs. Although the living pirates were wholly aware of the awful stench given off by these horrors, they had no idea just how dangerous it could be to stab at them and thus release the rest of the stinking vapours contained within.
Out on the undead left flank, having seen off both cannon crews, Captains Sagrada and del Portes, the pirates and the duellists, Grand Admiral Galdabash now succumbed to one of his fits, his mind becoming so confused that it was all he could do to stagger forwards. His hulking zombified ogres simply matched his step, entirely unaware that their master had lost his wits. Behind him the zombies fighting the Estalian handgunners inflicted terrible losses, their fleet captain alone lashing with a magically imbued cat o’nine tails to lay five Tabrizians low. Such a mauling, delivered by such a frightening enemy, was too much for the seamen who ran screaming away, chasing after those who had already fled. The zombies poured after them, dragging several screaming to the ground, and approaching very close to the already fleeing band of Captain Bart and his crew.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle15.jpg)
Having not much choice in the matter, what with the bloated corpses standing immediately in their path, the Arabyan swordsmen and Dwarfen slayers both charged.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle17.jpg)
Maybe their spirit of defiance was contagious, for somehow Captain Bart rallied his men and turned them to face the zombies now to his right. Or was it that he had glimpsed Galdabash disappearing over the dune away from the battle, and so thought perhaps he and his men could destroy the cannon and live after all?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle16.jpg)
The pirates’ mortar and cannon between them failed to harm anyone, and the handgunners made more noise than real hindrance for the enemy, but the Arabyan crossbowmen at least felled one of the last carronade’s crewmen. In the more up close and personal fights, the two bloated corpses had no chance at all against the massed ranks of those facing them and they were quickly slain, the resulting explosive cloud of caustic vapours fatally choking two swordsmen and a dwarf. Yet the swordsmen, a little more nimble on their feet than the dwarfs, turned this minor loss into good fortune, and leapt over the steaming remains of the walking corpse to begin their run for the hill top. Between them and their objective, the Queen Bess, there stood a single carronade, then a palisade defended by zombies with handguns, so that unless something came over from the far side of the field to catch them in time, they realised they had every chance of reaching and spiking the Queen Bess.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle18.jpg)
When one of the zombie regiments chose to charge at Pasterkamp’s handgunners the mate leading them ordered them to flee. Not so Captain Bart Pasterkamp’s main regiment, however, for although they had only just rallied, they made a nervous stand against the charge that came against them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle21.jpg)
Now that they were locked in combat they could not see that Galdabash had come out of his stupor and had turned his regimented hulks around to begin a march back to the battle, nor that nearby the Scurvy Dogs had extricated themselves from the stony ground on the river bank. Instead of bolting off towards the nearest foe, the dogs began a long dash across the foot of the hill to see if they could intercept the black swordsmen making for the great gun.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle22.jpg)
The Zombie handgunners stationed on the hill tried their own kind of resistance and fired a volley at the swordsmen, bringing down two - a success that might have surprised them if they had been capable of conscious thought.
Captain Bart Pasterkamp’s belated attempt to stand against the foe proved rather short-lived. He himself was wounded by the vicious magical whip wielded by the vampire fleet captain, while elsewhere in the fighting ranks very little harm was done: the men too frightened to get quite close enough to deliver fatal blows; the zombies too slow witted to get past the fighting seamens’ parries. But with their captain bleeding and the very denizens of hell crowding forwards the Tabrizians could not hold on to their courage and once more turned tail and fled (Game note: Undead US outnumbered theirs by 1, after a loss by 1!) into the sea. The recently elected admiral of the Tabrizian fleet now found himself splashing and scrabbling about, along with his panicked men, trying desperately to climb into one of the boats and push away from this land of death. His wig floated away with a wave, and though for the tiniest moment he almost turned to retrieve it, he remembered he had a spare in his sea chest and decided it would be foolish to risk one’s life for vanity. One wig would have to do (for the rest of this campaign at least).
Off to the side his handgunners were also in the surf, scrambling over one beached boat in an attempt to find one a little further out that would put them to sea a lot quicker than if they had to haul it out.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle20.jpg)
The Dwarf Slayers had a rather different attitude to the fight compared to their human allies. They simply did not see the foe as something to fear, but as something to be killed, a challenge to be overcome so that they could boast of it and drink to victory afterwards as they always did. Having waded through the sticky mess that was the remains of the walking corpse, they had overrun into the flank of the central regiment of zombies and now began the bloody business of slaughter they had landed on this shore to do. Of the zombies’ two captains only one could fight, but against the torrent of blows that the pistol festooned slayers could rain upon them, the zombies did not really stand much of a chance. Six zombies fell to bullet and blade, then ten more collapsed simply because the magic binding them in unlife weakened as the dwarfs pushed on into them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle19.jpg)
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Wow, the Pirate's artillery isn't doing much.
Perhaps the dwarf slayers will carry the day!
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I'm betting on the stalwart lads from Araby.
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Some bad luck with LD tests and outnumbering it seems (auto-flee when outnumbered by 1 is irritating I suppose :wink:). Very nice report as always, and a beautiful story!
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Part Seven
Fourth and final part of the Battle of the Dunes
The Arabyan Crossbowmen had not the courage to charge the Zombies crossing in front of them, and so allowed the enemy to approach dangerously close to the mortar. The Agha’s Sworsdmen, however, proved less timorous than their detachment of crossbowmen, and continued their advance on the hilltop in the face of a cannon muzzle and its undead crew.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle25.jpg)
Perhaps a little unnerved by what was surely about to happen, the mortar crew failed to hit the Queen Bess a second time, and instead landed their grenado on the tower upon the other side of the stockade.
Thodrin and his Dwarf Slayers could not believe how simple it was to hack the Grand Admiral Galdabash’s servants down, and before they had really begun to break a sweat the last of the zombies before them succumbed to their blades and pistols, as well as the ever weakening magic holding them together in undeath. Just as the dwarfs were thinking how easy the fighting was, the brave crew of the mortar found themselves facing a threat that they could surely not withstand - the three of them, one a boy armed with only a bucket and another a crippled man with a crutch in his left hand, were now charged by an entire regiment of shambling zombies. Other much larger bodies of men had fled from just such a foe, and yet here these three found the courage to stand and fight! (I could not tell you why.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle23.jpg)
The rest of Gladabash’s forces attempted to close with the few enemies remaining on the field of battle: the hulks made their way towards the centre of the field; the dogs continued their rush to reach the Arabyan swordsmen (though their pace had now slackened somewhat because Gladabash had moved away from them and his power to urge them on had diminished due to the distance). The Vampire Lord had in fact moved away from his undead Ogres to make his own way across the field, so filled with rage he no longer sought the safety of numbers and desired only to close with the enemy quickly and personally, to sate the bloodlust that all his kind shared.
The carronade upon the hill fired directly into the swordsmen advancing straight towards it and brought two down, but the zombie handgunners behind and above them failed in their own attempts so dramatically that one of the misfiring handguns felled the zombie carrying it.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle24.jpg)
Two of the mortar crew were torn apart by the zombies, and the last (the boy who due to his short stature had been overlooked by the dim witted unliving seamen) fled screaming away from them to drown in the sea. This left only one artillery piece on the field - the cannon on the Tabrizians’ far left, whose crew gave thanks to Manaan that they had been spared so far and now offered the promise of sacrifices and prayers if he would continue his protection.
The Arabyan Swordsmen, unwilling to receive another carronade shot, now launched their charge at the little gun and its crew, even though their attack took them uphill and over quite a distance and thus might prove a dangerously long run. Their luck held, however, and they reached the little artillery piece before it could be reloaded.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle26.jpg)
The two zombies crewing it unsurprisingly proved little challenge for the corsairs’ deadly scimitars and they soon leapt over their now dead (rather than undead!) corpses to begin their dash for the hilltop. Once again whatever desert gods they looked to for good fortune smiled upon them and they managed to get right up to the stockade and charge into the zombie handgunners defending it.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle27.jpg)
Thodrin’s Dwarfs turned to face the hulking ogres shambling near them, and one or two looked up to watch the flight of the last cannon’s ball as it curled through air towards the Queen Bess. The crew’s prayers had been very well received, apparently, for Manaan himself must surely have carried the ball to its target. It scored a direct hit on the great cannon and damaged it badly. (Game note: 2 wounds out of 5, the ball being D3 wounds light cannon ball.) The Arabyan crossbow and last unit of handgunners hoped to make their own contribution count also and shot every quarrel they had loaded into the Scurvy Dogs (Game note: being lower down all their ranks could shoot). It appeared that Manaan was too busy with the cannon ball for not one bullet or bolt pierced a single dog. Nothing could stop the dogs from reaching the swordsmen now.
Galdabash and one of his regiments of zombies now chased away the last of the Tabizian handgunners (which was all they could reach), while the Scurvy Dogs hurtled up the hill to do what they had been trying to do for some time now - attack the Swordsmen.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle28.jpg)
The ensuing fight was bloody, scimitar against tooth, claw and musket butt, yet neither side could gain the advantage and the struggle went on. If they could not defeat the undead soon, the swordsmen feared that the daylight would fail and no doubt bring all sorts of new terrors to the field. Such fear was not helped by the fact that they were already tiring, nor the way they were terribly isolated up there on the summit.
Down below Thodrin attempted to lead his Dwarfs in a charge against the Ogres, perhaps thinking he might at least keep their attention away from the hill, but his little legs proved too … well … little, and the charge failed to reach the foe before it petered out. All he could do was begin to re-order his warriors ready to try again!
The cannon misfired, but the crew boldly set about reloading with the intent of shooting one last time before fleeing for the safety of the fleet. On the hilltop the fight went on: dogs rolling down the hill as they were hacked apart and zombies falling where they stood when the curved Arabyan blades cut deep enough. Yet the Arabyans were dismayed to find that the foe’s lack of fear, nor care for their own (un)lives, meant that they fought on regardless and relentless.
It was beginning to look like the Tabrizians would not get to the Queen Bess, and that many men had died and were yet to die pointlessly that day. But then came the cannon’s last ball, an iron roundshot following exactly the same path as the previously successful one, and thus striking the Queen Bess square on. The huge but ancient and rusty warmachine could not withstand such a blow, so that it was shattered by the impact - it’s very barrel cracking open as the carriage collapsed. After countless years of service, both for the living and the undead, her majesty had finally died. Her last surviving crewman simply stood as he had before, yet to realise that his ward was destroyed. Strangely, he was joined in his lack of motion by the three Tabrizian crewmen on the dune, though their gormless stance was due not to ignorance but rather genuine surprise at what they had done.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/GaldaBattle29-1.jpg)
It was almost a full minute before they snapped out of the shock induced by their success, then the gunner turned to his two matrosses and said simply, “That’ll do for today, eh?” They nodded in response, and leaving their own piece on the dune they slid hastily down the sand and bolted for the nearest boat.
They were not the only ones to make this decision. Thodrin’s dwarfs saw no use in fighting on when the Queen Bess was destroyed and they too made dash for the beach. Theirs was a more orderly affair than the other Tabrizians around them, almost as if daring the foe to try to follow them. The Arabyan Swordsmen on the hill also knew that to linger was not only dangerous but utterly futile, and they began their own pell mell run all the way to the surf, dropping shields and casting off helmets that they might run that little bit quicker.
Not one undead pirate pursued them, for their master did not will them to do so. He cared not which man or dwarf escaped this beach, for his mind was filled with another concern: If the Queen Bess was destroyed, how could he prevent the Tabrizian fleet from ascending the river? His own ships had mostly been destroyed in a recent storm, though this had not troubled him particularly - a mere distraction while his servants searched for the city of gold. His boats and wherries had been safe upriver during the storm, but were now much farther upriver searching. So he had nothing here at the river mouth to prevent the Tabrizians' ascent of the river. What now?
A shimmer of heat haze obscured his blue-skinned body, yet every man, orc and dwarf aboard the Tabrizian ships somehow knew he was there and that his attention was upon them. The fury in his glare, the intensity of his anger not only stirred up the haze about him but poured out across the water to wash up against the ships - a palpable force of wicked intent which sent a chill up every spine. And the thought that crossed every one of their minds? Grand Admiral Galdabash had not finished with them yet.
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Three cheers for the artillery! (Although the boys from Araby almost had her done!)
Great report as always. What will Grand Admiral Galdabash do now? If only his fleet were nearby...
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:eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
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Aha, As I predicted ahem yes... The artillery carried the day! Huzzah!
Excellent stuff Padre, I wouldn't mind seeing some of your reports in the workshop, just to add some new material in there.
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Wow! Some seriously good luck with that cannon indeed. I thought you were in a bad shape when your right flank was hacked apart and many of your infantry brought down, but there you go... A surprising end to the battle in any case!
Great report as always. What will Grand Admiral Galdabash do now? If only his fleet were nearby...
Yeah I'm going to keep checking this thread, a most enjoyable read as ever, great work Padre!
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nice story, nice battle, nice pîctures,...
erm nice thread,
nicely done...
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Any messages in bottles come back from the fleet to Tabriz yet, Padre?
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The City of Amon
Northern coast of the Gulf of Medes
After his disastrous expedition to Marienburg, the Prince Sadrin al Marwan (nephew of the grand Sultan of Amon) had returned home with little to show for his efforts. He still had a good half of the men he set out with, as well as nearly all the ships, but nothing in the way of profit. There was one thing, though, he had achieved - proof that Amon was willing to assist the city’s merchant houses as an ally and close business partner, earning the city a reputation that would lead to some very favourable trade deals with the Marienburgers for years to come.
The Prince, now well past a score years in age and widely expected to be thinking about settling down to take up some of his political responsibilities, nevertheless remained restless, gripped by a yearning for one more adventure: something that would make his name and enrich him at one and the same time; something that might earn his uncle’s everlasting favour and thus ensure his inheritance of the rulership of the great city of Amon. He was tired with merely seeing the wide world, and now hoped to see things that other men had not looked upon, to be so blessed with such sights and experiences that he would emerge as a ruler of truly mythical status. Yet these ambitions seemed to be nothing more than fancy … until this particular day.
It was midday and he was sitting in his presence chamber, consulting with his officers concerning the continued existence of the army, their re-equipping, training, pay and such like, even though he had little interest in such affairs while the army served no purpose. His most senior adviser, the wizard Zadra ibn Borhasa, stood to one side, apparently quite bored of such conversation, but it pleased the Prince to have the man attend even if the business was not to his liking!
Then came one of his most trusted sheikhs, clad in the white robes of a warrior of the desert, who craved an audience. This was granted. The Prince was intrigued to see that the sheikh had with him a scholar of some repute in Amon, a wise man who had once taught the Prince himself concerning foreign tongues.
Bowing low, then indicating the man with an exaggerated gesture of his arm, the sheikh explained his presence, “Great prince, I have brought this teacher to speak with you of his scholarly findings. I believe what he has to say might be of interest to you.”
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Amon1.jpg)
The Prince studied the scholar, noting how age had taken its toll since he last saw the man, and how he wore stained travelling clothes as if he had just returned from a journey through the desert.
“I remember you, teacher. I have no need of more lessons, so tell me, why are you here?”
“Good master, great Prince, you were always a good student, and you did indeed learn all that I could teach you. Since those days however I have studied for many years to learn of the lands to the south - the vast green jungles and swamps where lizards walk upon their two hind legs, the high mountains and their forgotten dwarven fastnesses, the long and broad rivers wending their way for many hundreds of leagues before emptying into the ocean.”
The Prince rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “What care I of swamps and rivers? Of mountain dwarfs? I have no wish to have a lesson in geography from you.”
“Forgive me mighty prince,” the scholar answered calmly, as if he had no idea it could prove dangerous to displease the Prince. “These things were not the true goal of my studies. That, my prince, was the whereabouts of several ancient jungle cities, told of in myth and legend but unknown to any man alive.”
Now this very much intrigued the Prince, who put down the golden goblet that up ‘til now had been clutched in his left hand whilst re-filled regularly by a servant. Ancient legendary cities, he thought, would suit his plans perfectly.
The scholar continued. “They have of course been given many names over the centuries, very often - as far as I can ascertain - being renamed by whomsoever found them for want of any knowledge of their true names. Some of the stories one can dismiss as lies, mistranslations of similar or even the exact same texts, or derivative works of fiction. But some, my prince, are worthy reports, and through hard work, good fortune and what skill and attention to details I could bring to the task, I have correlated and combined facts to ascertain verifiable truths which I am certain are …”
“Stop!” said the Prince, bringing a sudden end to the monologue. “Cut to the quick - have you found one of the cities of gold?”
The scholar nodded, “I have, my prince. Gold in such great quantities that it forms the roofs of temples, being fashioned into spires, canopies, balustraded balconies, and even - if I may be so bold as to suggest - the very paving of the streets. Furthermore, and may this please your excellence, the one such city I have identified is perhaps the largest of a chain of such cities belonging to an ancient and long since extinct civilisation of jungle creatures.”
“Jungle creatures?” asked the wizard Zadra.
“Yes, master - snake-like creatures with thorny excrescences running the length of their limbless bodies, as well as brightly feathered birds of gigantic stature and, I have every reason to believe, purple hued beetles of quite enormous proportions, indeed of a size that would rival the largest of goats, that spurt a glutinous poison from their eyes but which are terrified of iron, rather in the way that they say forest spirits in the north are so frightened of the same black metal.”
The Prince looked at Zadra, then when he saw a smile playing on the wizard’s lips, he laughed. “Ha! Jungle monsters. I am sure bullet and bolt can lay low any such beetle, and bring down any bird whatever it’s shade, and my war elephants could crush a snake without knowing what they had done.”
“I am sure they could, great prince,” stammered the scholar.
The Wizard Zadra was the first in the chamber to recognise the implication of the Prince’s words. “Do you intend to find the city, great prince?”
“Perhaps, if it is possible to take an army there. I am no fool and I know such a place could never be reached and then successfully returned from without great force to drive off not only any jealous guardians but all those enemies that would bar the way.” He then looked at the wizard and asked, “What think you, Zadra?”
Zadra stroked his chin in thought, then (as if this action was not enough to gain full insight) pushed his tall, yellow and black striped hat back a little from his forehead to rub at his temples. Suddenly his fidgeting stopped, and he addressed the scholar.
“Tell me, can you provide the maps and charts that might take us there? Do you know exactly which river to ascend - what latitude. And then how far to travel. And can you tell us how we might avoid the plague of pirates that are meant to swarm upon those shores?”
“Ah, I cannot, for the map I have fashioned from the accounts of ancient travellers and more recent slavers, shows not the western coast and river mouths, but the mountainous spine of the continent.”
“You would have my army travel so far over land?” asked the Prince, bemused. “I know my desert warriors and their mounts are renowned for their stamina, but I could not expect them to cut their way through swamp and forest for months on end. I am a commander of some experience, having knowledge garnered from campaigns in the real world and not mere forays into dusty tomes and crumbling scrolls. There is more disease prevalent in such jungles and swamp than in the slums in plague time, and much of the no doubt bountiful fruit and berries are surely poisonous. I will not embark upon a fools errand.”
“My prince, if you would forgive me my boldness, I have discovered that there is a way - a route down the western side of the mountains. I admit, it is most surely now broken in places and in others overgrown, perhaps little more than a path for many leagues, but it is above the jungle, upon the foothills and slopes of the mountains and no more difficult I am sure than the paths through the desert hills to the east and north of us.”
Now it was the wizard Zadra’s turn to laugh. He was one of the few that could dare to do so in the presence of the Prince; one of those who had grown up with the Prince and shared a familiarity with him that had even included drinking in his company in the taverns and alehouses of a variety of ports in the Old World.
“And why would there be such a convenient road laid out for us, one which would take us in such an easy manner to a fabled city that no-one else has found? This is more preposterous than your tales of poison eyed, purple beetles!”
“I beg your pardon, great Prince,” said the scholar, sounding suitably contrite, “but the road in question is not easily found, for it’s northern stretch was deliberately destroyed. It was once, in long past times, a dwarfen road, leading to their hold of Karak Zorn. I do not claim that the road will be easy - there may well be parts which delve underground and are surely now collapsed; but these could be circumvented, meaning your army would only have to traverse the jungle in short stretches. The road in many places is little more than a marked route, once thought sufficient to serve as a road. Once you are west of the city, and have found the streams leading to a particular river, then the course of the great river so formed will take you to the golden realm. That part of the journey will surely not be easy, but may be made somewhat more feasible if rafts and such like are fashioned to carry your army. They will surely be needed to bring your army and the gold back.”
The Prince seemed completely lost in thought, but suddenly snapped out of his reverie and spoke to his advisor, “Zadra, you will go with this man and look at his maps and all the evidence he has to make such bold claims. Good sheikh, you shall go too and take your soldiers with you, for I would not have this man harmed by my enemies nor would have him reveal what he has said here to anyone else.”
The two men bowed, and then escorted the scholar from the chamber. Prince Sadrin al Marwan picked up his goblet again, drank a deep draught of wine, then let his head fall slowly backwards as he considered all that he might do to better his chances of success. If this city could be found, it would surely sate his need for adventure, and without a scintilla of doubt it would enrich him beyond all the rulers in the known world.
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Ooh, a new player! excellent.
Padre, do you have like a miniature version of Hollywood in your house? You seem to have all the right props!
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Vampires! Pygmies and Elephants! Oh my!
Padre thanks for a new twist!
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Ive been away from the boards for a while , I come back and what do I find ?
Padre has started what looks like another cracking thread !
:eusa_clap: :eusa_clap:
Looking forward to see how this develops.
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Padre this is made out of pure win, just sell your rights to the White Dwarf and that magazin might be worth its money again!
Such a story over 5-6 white dwarves spread would be made of pure awesome.
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The Bent Cutlass Inn
[Port of Tabriz Pirates’ Commonwealth
For several weeks Grijalva had been in a good mood, so much so that his customers now had longer tabs than ever before and none had been threatened into settling their accounts. He spent most days singing and occasionally (to everyone’s surprise) breaking into impromptu jigs, and most nights dreaming of the wealth that would soon be his when the fleet returned. Although he had not sailed with the fleet, he was still due his share, in fact a double share - for with Captain Bartholomeus’ encouragement the Council had unanimously agreed that he should be well rewarded. After all, it was he who had found the golden token around Webbe’s neck, it was he who had recognised it for what it was, and most worthy of all, he had chosen not to keep its existence a secret but had told the council of it immediately.
Even more, Grijalva looked forward to the rewards his true master would surely gift him for having been instrumental in the birth of this enterprise. There was in his mind little doubt that there would be magical artefacts by the chest-full in such an ancient and golden city. Once his master Scholten and the god he served were truly ascendant, then he and the others of the Trusted Six would surely rule Tabriz, and go on to rule much, much more. The world would be his oyster, and he would be so wealthy that even the riches of a fabled city would seem paltry to him. In the meantime, however, he liked the sound of a double share.
Now he sat in his chair in his withdrawing room at the back of the inn, and looked once more at his copy of Webbe’s scribbled map, idly pricking at the supposed location of the city with a pin as if by doing so he might somehow urge the fleet on to that same location. His musings, however, were brought to an abrupt end when his servant Goncalo Po came bursting into the room.
“You’d better get yourself out here, master, and quick,” Goncalo said.
Grijalva simply frowned at the man. He had heard no racket, no tumult, no shouting, no gunshots, not even the clash of steel. So how could there be trouble?
Goncalo Po recognised Grijalva’s frown for what it was. “It’s Bertrand Le Bourreur - he’s back. He’s heard about the golden city and he demands you speak with him.”
The innkeeper now understood. Captain Bertrand was a member of the Pirate Council and had been admiral of several Tabrizian fleets in the past. He was successful, powerful, lucky - not a man to be kept waiting. And if he had heard of the city of gold, he would be (as any pirate) somewhat miffed that he should miss out on such a rich haul.
Grijalva cursed, for such as Captain Bertrand had low cunning enough to turn mere knowledge of the expedition somehow to his own profit and damn all the rest. Worse, he was not one of the six, and with his reputation in the past of fighting as a privateer for the more civilised realms of the north such as Marienburg, it was highly unlikely that he could ever be tempted to join them. Considering these things, Bertrand was a danger, so Grijalva hid the map in his shirt and headed towards the door, a plan already forming in his mind.
He stepped into the tap-room to discover that unsurprisingly Bertrand was not alone. He had with him his old bo’s’un Nicolas Bruggeman, carrying the multiple barrelled musket known throughout Tabriz to be deadly ( though many an argument had raged over whether it was more deadly to its target or its wielder). Behind him stood one of his younkers who must have been a new recruit - yet even he, clad in but a shirt and breeches, without even stockings or shoes, had an air of threat about him - helped by the fact he was clutching a pistol. The famous Captain Bertrand was dressed as always in a scarlet shirt, his short buff-leather waistcoat and a wide brimmed hat in the fashion of a Bretonnian sea-farer, matched by his neatly trimmed Bretonnian style moustache and beard. His cutlass was unsheathed, the blade well sharpened and oiled so that it glinted in the light coming from the high windows. To unsheath it was a breach of all normal alehouse etiquette, but Captain Bertrand was not the kind of man to care about rules when he wanted to make a point, and the naked blade was very persuasive.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic4.jpg)
Considering those he could call on to back him up, Grijalva was not exactly reassured by the odds. Goncalo Po was still in his office, no doubt preparing the blunderbuss so that he would be ready to lend aid should Grijalva call. Apart from this one ‘heavy’, the only other person Grijalva could possibly expect help from was Corine Lagerwerf. She stood over by the large casks of beer, dressed in her yellow bodice, as sultry and confident as ever, hands on hips whilst grinning suggestively at Captain Bertrand. Grijalva knew full well just how dangerous she could be: how often she had ‘disarmed’ enemies of the Six and so allowed them to be dispatched with ease; and how she had used her reputation as a cunning woman to steal away so many supposedly still-born babes from their ignorant mothers in the service of Scholten’s god. But hers was a particular kind of ‘dangerous’, one that did not exactly lend itself to being able to deal with three well-armed and purposeful men. In their current mood they were very unlikely to succumb to her charms.
“Good Captain Bertrand!” began Grijalva. “It’s been so long since you graced my humble inn, nay the entire town, with your presence. I hope fortune has smiled on thee many times since we met last.”
“Not as much as fortune seems to have smiled upon those who were here when Webbe’s gold was found,” said Bertrand.
“Ah, such news carries fast. Aye indeed, but my friend all Tabrizians shall share in the profits - even those here will have their chance at dice and cards to make a tidy sum when the fleet returns.”
Bertrand was smiling, but there was little friendliness in the expression. “I do not intend to wait for them to return. I shall follow them, and have my share at the source.”
“Of course, good captain,” said Grijalva, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I should’ve known that a noble Tabrizian such as thee would see it as thy duty to go to the assistance of thy friends.”
The Bretonnian captain’s smile widened. “I knew you would understand. Of course, there is the matter of learning where exactly they have gone. And as you yourself were the first to learn of the secret, then I can safely presume that you have the most perfect knowledge.”
“I ain’t so sure, good captain, that I understand.”
“You are the wellspring through which the secret sprang,” explained Bertrand, somewhat poetically.
Grijlava shook his head. “Nay, you have it wrong. Webbe was closest to the secret, I only discovered he was hiding it.”
“Do not be so modest, master innkeeper. You were there from the start. You heard every word that Webbe spoke. I know you were present at the council when his secret was revealed, and at the meetings afterwards. And he was lodged here with you until they took him aboard ship and set sail. You must know where the city is.” He paused a moment and began to study his blade as if searching for imperfections, then continued. “Aye, you must know. I’d bet your life upon it.”
Grijalva realised the threat was coming before it had even been delivered and had already prepared his reply. “I shall not shirk from helping a bold captain such as thee. I will do my best and shall ask only a modest recompense of thee for my service.”
This last touch was a gamble by Grizalva, an attempt to make his words sound sincere by giving the impression he expected payment for the information. Apparently, however, Bertrand had not really heard that part, for it was something else which irked him.
“Your best? Have you not a map you can give me?”
Grijalva tried to look as if the thought had not occurred to him. “A map? No, not I. I saw the chart drawn up by Webbe, and heard him tell of the sights to be seen on the way - capes and river mouths and rocks and such like. But I myself have no map.”
“Where is it, then?”
“With the fleet o’ course, as is Webbe.” He put his finger to his mouth as if pondering something. “I s'pose I could draw what I remember for thee.”
“Good enough,” said Bertrand. “Be about the business immediately, I have little patience.”
“O’ course, you’d not want to be considered tardy by the fleet. Come, friend, I have paper and ink in my room. I shall fashion thee up a map you can be proud of.”
Grijalva led the way, making sure he called loudly for Goncalo Po even before reaching the threshold saying, “Goncalo, the good captain and I are to come in. Be so kind as to find us out some paper.” This was his way of forewarning his servant to put away the blunderbuss.
Bruggeman halted outside the door, like a guard keen to ensure those within were not disturbed, but Bertrand and the boy followed Grijalva inside. The innkeeper was soon busy scratching out a fictional piece of coastline upon a sheet of paper, waxing lyrical about the features that might be seen there and how to spot the right river mouth.
Suddenly Captain Bertrand spoke, addressing the young seaman by his side. “It occurs to me lad that having never been to Tabriz you would not know Goncalo here. Let me introduce him to you, Goncalo is one of our host’s guards - without the likes of him poor Grijalva would be at a considerable disadvantage in this town. His customers, being fellows of a rough disposition, would no doubt take liberties. I intend to take just such a liberty, so please, lad, if you would be so kind.”
Grijalva had ceased both drawing and babbling, his mild confusion turning suddenly into fear. Goncalo on the other hand never got to feel fear. He had not got past confusion when the younker’s pistol ball smashed through his forehead and out the other side, taking much of his brains with it to create a grisly decoration upon the wall surrounding the spot the ball had finally buried itself.
Very calmly, Bertrand went on, only just loud enough to be heard over the ringing in Grijalva’s ears.
“That’s a pretty map indeed, though I think it not just fancy but fanciful. I know the western coast of the Southlands, and there is no such stretch as you have committed there to paper. Now, you see from poor Goncalo just how strongly we feel about obtaining the real map. I know you have a copy, for who but a fool would watch a fleet set sail to its potential doom and allow the map to be lost with them. I suggest you show me the map now, otherwise I might have to see if mine own pistol is as reliable as Adriaan’s, then have a look around this room myself.”
All thoughts of trying to trick Bertrand had fled Grijalva’s mind. All that was left was a rather large thought concerning how to stay alive. The first part of the answer was obvious - he would have to part with the map. He put his hand down the front of his shirt and pulled it out.
“Wouldst thou believe it?” he said, his pretence at humour failing due to the tremor in his voice. “Here it is. How foolish I must appear ... to ... to have thought to outwit thee. B-believe me when I say I have learned my lesson well here today, and will from this day hence speak always honest with thee captain. Of course, I expect no share of thine own profit from the city of gold, for I am ashamed to admit I have no right at all to ask it of thee.”
Captain Bertrand thought this suitably contrite, and could think of no reason to kill the innkeeper now. Grijalva had been caught out in a lie to a captain of the council, and his man had suffered for it. Apart from that he had done no wrong. Bertand took the map, bowed a little and left. His lad lingered a moment, looking at the bloody stain on the wall, then he too left. Finally, Bruggeman’s face appeared in the doorway, peeking in. He looked at Goncalo and the wall above him and said,
“All that mess and with just one little bullet. Makes you wonder what would have happened if I had entered with the captain.”
With that he hefted his terrifying piece of personal artillery onto his shoulder, and marched away to join the others.
Grijalva sat at his desk, trembling. He did not really notice when Corine entered, nor how she crouched beside Goncalo to stare at what had once been his face.
Slowly but surely a thought pushed its way to dominate his consciousness - revenge. One day, when Scholten and the Six and the god they served had finally wrested control of Tabriz, he would start his own rule of terror by seeking out Bertrand and making him as afraid as he had been just now. Then it would be Bertrand Le Bourreur's turn to struggle for excuses to save his life.
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More players in the game! Where does Bertrand fit in? Were he and the Prince comrades in Marienburg?
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Splendid! Can't wait to see the story unfolding (and some bat rep's of course...).
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The Captain’s Cabin
Aboard Captain Bertrand Le Bourreur’s Ship ‘Sea Drake’
In the Bay of Tabriz
Here is the captain’s table just after he cleared a space to lay down the map and peruse it.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic5.jpg)
I know what you are thinking. You want a better look at that map. I can hardly blame you for that - but should I show it to you?
The map was drawn by a pilot in Tabriz with some skill in cartography. He took Webbe Nijman’s description of his river journey and the coast near the river mouth, as well as his account of where exactly the river mouth lay in relation to Hurry By Island, and then combined it with an existing chart of the region to fashion this particular map.
Can you keep a secret?
Oh, go on then - you’ve twisted my arm. Here it is …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic5b.jpg)
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Wow, that is pretty impressive.
I spy bone dice!
Oh and from the map, i'm guessing this story takes place in the Southlands. Excellent choice!
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@ Inarticulate: It does indeed take place in the Southlands.
And yes, they are my bone dice - three of them. Just enough to play the old buccaneers' game of 'passe dix' (not sure of spelling).
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@ Inarticulate: It does indeed take place in the Southlands - the first post mentioned in the title that Bubaqua Isle was off the western coast of the southern Southlands. And of course if the arabs are going to get there down the mountains on a ruined road to Karak Zorn, then definitely the Southlands.
Don't rub it in that I need visual aids! :D
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Wow Padre, you continue to impress. Those pictures with the map on the desl are stunning! Lots of pirate-y goodies there, too. :wink:
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The Grand Palace
Inner Quarter, The City of Amon
“What say you, then?” asked the Prince Sadrin al Marwan as soon as the wizard Zadra returned to his presence. “Are the man’s claims true?”
Zadra nodded. “He appears to be not only truthful but correct in his findings.”
“How is it that no-one else has discovered what he has found?”
The wizard smiled, “Oh, they have, your highness. There is every indication that the great Sultan of Lashiek once learned of its existence, not more than a score of years ago, and that he went so far as to send a fleet secretly to find it by the sea route and upriver. No ships returned, and not one man. The whole affair was considered an embarrassment, and it was claimed the fleet, nothing more than a slaving expedition destined for the coast south of the Gulf of Medes, was lost in a terrible storm. The Sultan seems also to have had the records of the city destroyed, or hidden, for he jealously wanted no one else to learn of it and perhaps profit by what he could not obtain.”
“But not all records concerning it were destroyed, eh?” suggested the prince.
“You are wise as ever, your highness. Our scholar found works that mentioned the city that even the Sultan did not know of. He also studied all that he could find concerning the Dwarven realm of Karak Zorn, and indeed has evidence that in years gone by it conducted trade with the southern desert tribes. Once and only once, a sheikh was permitted to take a great train of camels and mules south along the dwarfen road, and lucky for us he wrote of his journey. From his words, and those of slavers who have made efforts to learn of the tribes and geography of the eastern jungles closest to the mountains, our scholar has ascertained his route, and from the written words of one very ancient traveller, he has cleverly discovered the location of the golden city in relation to this route.”
“You believe him them?” asked the prince. “You would stake you life on it?”
Zadra grinned, for between the prince and he this was no threat but an old joke. Then he looked more serious. “I believe him, my prince. I cannot say that the route is passable, nor that the dangers upon the way are surmountable. But I believe that the city is there where he claims.”
Prince Sadrin laughed.
“Let me concern over how we might get there. If it exists upon this world, then it can be reached. Consider this, how could a city be made that could not be reached by those who made it? We can cut through jungle vines, or burn down forests. We can make rafts for swamps and boats for rivers. And we can fight as only the warriors of Amon can fight against all that would stand in our way.”
For the next hour the wizard Zadra had little to do, for the prince busied himself with ordering his commanders and clerks to prepare the army and supplies that would be needed.
PS: Uryens, it you’re reading this, don’t read the next bit until after our battle!
Prince Sadrin’s Army of Amon (An Empire roster)
Characters
General: Prince Sadrin al Marwan
Camel (as warhorse), Sword of Justice, Dawn Armor, Holy Relic
Captain: Agha Qilij ad-Din an-Nasawa (Standard Bearer)
Heavy Armour; Battle Standard = Griffon Standard
Battle Wizard: Zadra ibn Borhasa
Level 2; Rod of Power; Sigil of Sigmar
Battle Wizard: Mukri al-Hajib
Level 2; Talisman of Protection, The Silver Horn
State Troops
25 Spears of the Desert (Full Command) with 10 [Det] Crossbowmen
25 Spears of the Middle Palace (Full Command) with 10 [Det] Crossbowmen
25 Royal Guard Swordsmen (Full Command)
10 Handgunners with Musician & Marksman
Militia Troops
20 Northern Tribe Archers with Marksman
Tribal Warriors (as DoW ‘Vespero's Vendetta’ Special Choice):
10 Tribal Warriors
Cavalry both as rare choices
10 Camel Cavalry (as DoW Heavy Cavalry): (Full Command), War Banner
10 Desert Riders (as DoW Light Cavalry): (Full Command)
War Engines:
2 Great Cannons & 1 Mortar
Subtotal = 2462 points
Plus (this is not army list legal like all of the above, but rather is ‘flufftastic’)
War Elephant (as Stegadon without giant bow)
Total = 2697 points
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Where does Bertrand fit in? Were he and the Prince comrades in Marienburg?
You'll find the answer here: http://www.marienburgcampaign.com/forum/index.php?topic=414.0
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Wow, you have one amazing Arabyan army. I'm just wondering what else you have tucked away!
So do these events take place before the CiM or afterwards?
Uryens, don't read this next bit.
Oh and those Vespero's, do they include Vespero himself, or just his Duellists?
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Vespero is part of the package - special choice regiment of renown. But I shall have to come up with a new character for him as the figures are Southlanders. Whatever abilities Vespero's lot can do, these guys have their own style of getting the same results (throwing knives, fearless etc).
Now not so sure about the whole Uryens game (in two weeks) 'cos I've got a game arranged before then, maybe even tomorrow, for this army against a different foe (Greenskin nomads). I need to do really well if this army is to survive. Maybe I should play the Greenskins and play deliberately badly so that the arabs win hands down and still have a full army? Or just come up with a story reason for the reinforcements that are there when I play Uryens?
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Ah right, I was just wondering, since you didn't name the Tribal leader. But yeah its a very cool unit.
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You'll find the answer here: http://www.marienburgcampaign.com/forum/index.php?topic=414.0
Ah! Good times. I remember looking through that thread last year to spot the different miniature companies.
Greenskin nomads--no problem. The elephant will scare the greenies off! (Otherwise more tribes are drawn to the Princes banner.)
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Scenario rules for Nomadic Greenskin attack on the arab column
The Arabs have 2739 pts compared with the Greenskins 2041 pts, thus there is an approx. 700 point advantage to the Arabs. For fairness a scenario is needed. Well, the Greenskins are raiders and robbers by 'trade' thus I've come up with ...
Scenario “Get them supplies!”
Duration 6 turns
Terrain Hills, a valley
Deployment
Arabs deploy as a column (see rules below) perpendicular to enemy. Can put 1/2 to 2/3 of units onto table, remainder count as off table (i.e. to one side). Remainder deploy second turn, arriving on the near half of whichever table side the column rules (below) dictate. Characters deploy at same time as baggage though some can stay off field if the are with the units that arrive on turn 2.
Column rules
- Artillery are limbered and take one turn to unlimber and deploy. If remain limbered then move like 4” moving chariot (slightly faster than normal), but no charges.
- Baggage has to be deployed on the table, and must be either in the middle or at the rear of the column (baggage is never at the front of an advancing army). Thus if baggage is at the front of the part of the column on the table, then the unplaced units are off the table to the front; if the column is in the middle or at the rear then of the part of the column on the field, then the unplaced units are off table to either side, player deciding at the point he puts the baggage down.
- The arab column deploys in their deployment zone, straight across or diagonal, and must look like an army on the march along a route, the units being arranged in a single file line (not the men, the units.)
Victory Points
Looting - Any individual Greenskin unit that (a) contacts the arabs' baggage and (b) has any members alive (even fleeing) at the end of the game gets 150 VP. They are carrying loot! If the arabs destroy the greenskins’ baggage, they gain 100 VP. The greenskins’ current loot is rubbish.
Greenskin flight - Greenskin units that flee or move off the table do not count towards the arabs’ VP total. They are in their own realm and can easily escape to reform somewhere else. They always intended to rob then flee so they are doing what they expected to do.
Arab VP - As normal (apart from not gaining VP from enemy who moved off the table for any reason or are fleeing at the end of the game). They need to kill as many greenskins as possible so that they are not harassed during the rest of their journey through this realm.
Battle in 30 minutes. Woo Hoo.
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I never read army lists on here, dont worry. Though when I was asked not to read further I found it difficult to not glance down to see why not :icon_lol: but then immediately realised why I shouldnt and stopped :engel:
Quite looking forward to our battle, big dilemmas in what to pick for my army...
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This is really great work so far! I am looking forward to the future installments! :eusa_clap:
Tim
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Can't wait to see that hefalump stampede through some gobbos!
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The enemy list:
Bonemawler's Greenskin Nomad Army (2041 pts)
Warboss BoneMawler (General) on Wyvern
Porko's Pigstikka, Enchanted Shield, Horn of Urgok
Big Boss Erbad (Army Standard Bearer) in Orc Boar Chariot
Gork's Waaagh! Banner
Big Boss Dufdig in Orc Boar Chariot
Ulags Akk'rit Axe, Nibbla's 'Itty Ring
Big Boss Clubcra in Orc Boar Chariot
Shaga's Screamin' Sword
7 Goblin Wolf Riders (Full Command) with Bows
6 Goblin Wolf Riders (Full Command) with Bows
7 Goblin Wolf Riders (Full Command) with Spears & Shields
9 Boar Boyz Mob (Full Command) with Nogg's Banner of Butchery
8 Boar Boyz Mob (Full Command)
1 Goblin Wolf Chariot
1 Goblin Wolf Chariot
Baggage
Report/story to follow
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Now this looks like a proper reaver force!
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Battle of the Southern Valley Part One
Note: See army lists and scenario rules above
Prince Sadrin’s Army of Amon had been marching now for just over three weeks. Consisting mostly of desert raised arabs and the rest of hardened veteran soldiers of the standing army, this meant they had covered a considerable distance and had already moved from the rocky deserts into the slightly greener foothills of the World’s Edge Mountains. Each day the column would inevitably become more stretched out then when it set off at dawn, but the Prince compensated by making sure that the crucial baggage train, carrying the victuals of the army without which it could not possibly be expected to fight, was not at the rear and that the regiments behind it were ordered not to move ahead of it. Nor were the artillery pieces allowed to tarry at the rear. This way the slowest elements of the column - heavily laden camels and slaves, and horse teams lugging huge guns - could not become stranded and vulnerable to raiders.
Nevertheless whatever orders were given regarding positions in the column, the events of a day’s march and the varying nature of the troops did mean that during daylight hours the army’s formation could alter. Not that the Prince worried about this, for why concern oneself with things that were impossible to change? Always pragmatic, he simply made sure that he himself rode with his lance armed camel cavalry in the rearguard, thus ensuring he could not miss any troubles that the units in front suffered. Behind him there was only the Elephant and the recently raised handgunners, the latter armed in a fashion that made them perfect for signalling (loudly) if any threat presented from the rear.
There had been reports of wolf-riding goblins for the last four days, and although some scaremongers built such sightings up into tales of armies lying in wait in the hills, most of the warriors of Amon thought they were merely members of the scattered and weak bands of marauders who preyed on caravans throughout the region but would surely not be strong enough to attempt an attack upon an army such as theirs. That said, there was still a distinct air of caution as the army marched, and several small companies of light horse had been ordered to act as outriders, to scour the land upon all sides of the column and race back with reports of any potential danger.
The column was approaching a wide valley, where the going would surely be easier for a little while. What the Prince did not know was that he would be fighting a full scale battle within the hour. The hills upon either side where rocky in places, and patches of soggy mire sat between some of them, but the ground along the middle of the valley was dry enough - whatever river had carved the valley out (if that’s what it was) was long gone. Little water reached the desert from these hills.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/DeployZonesTerrain.jpg)
Unusually, the limbered mortar led the column, it’s crew having set off with the Swordsmen first that morning. Perhaps they had thought that this way, as the army overtook them later, they would still be somewhere in the middle of the coloumn by the end of the day? The Palace Guard Spear regiment and its crossbow detachment came next, followed by the large body of slave archers. Both cannons were being hauled together behind those archers, followed by the only unit of Light Horse remaining with the column and not out attempting to scout. A third large Foot regiment, the Desert Spears, marched next, ahead of the baggage, then came Gamouzo’s skirmishing tribal warriors.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle2.jpg)
Behind all of this, yet even to enter the valley, rode Prince Sadrin and his camel cavalry, followed by the war elephant and the handgunners. The mortar was crewed by city soldiers, men who had recently returned from Marienburg with the Prince, having acquired their artillery piece from that northern realm.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle3.jpg)
The slave archers in the centre of the column might be thought to be poor soldiers - but not so. Each knew that if they did good service upon this campaign then they would be granted full freedom, and even a chance then to enlist in the Prince’s standing army. In the meantime, they had the same rations as all the other foot soldiers, and they knew that their native skill in archery was sufficient to see them through a battle.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle4.jpg)
The two cannons were mighty pieces indeed, both also from the northern old world, one with a bronze barrel and the other cast iron. Desert warriors formed the crew of these, having been hastily trained in the art of gunnery before this expedition by the master gunner from one of Amon’s warships.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle5.jpg)
The baggage train was large, not just because the army was large too, but also because of the long distance the Prince intended to travel. Even so, Prince Sadrin knew full well that his men would have to forage and plunder once they reached the jungles. This did not over-concern him, however, because he knew the lush jungle to be fruitful as well as abundant in flesh, fish and fowl. The Wizard Zadra, travelling with Gamouzo looked down upon the baggage in front of him and took its measure. Not that he cared what it was carrying now, rather it was what it could carry back from the city of gold than interested him.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle6.jpg)
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Part Two (Turn 1)
Suddenly a force of Greenskin raiders, much larger than any had thought could possibly muster under one leader in such a barren and sparsely populated place, almost a full Waagh!, came thundering over the hills upon the other side of the valley - threatening the left flank of almost the entire column.
On the Greenskins’ far right flank was a huge and monstrous creature, a wyvern, upon which the leader of the raiding force was mounted, Warboss BoneMawler. By his left side was the first of three wolfrider companies, and then came his three lieutenants (or Big Bosses as the greenskins liked to call them): Dufdig, Erbad and Clubcra. All three were mounted in huge Boar chariots which made a sound like thunder as the trundled along. Two companies of Boar Riders came next in the line, the second being the biggest, meanest orcs in the army. These Big Uns were preceded by the second of the wolfrider companies, and flanked to their left by two wolf-drawn chariots, much lighter than the Big Bosses’ boar chariots. Last (and indeed least) came the third company of Wolfriders, out on the far left flank of the army.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle1.jpg)
They took the army of Amon entirely by surprise. Without doubt, they must have overwhelmed and destroyed any scouts who had come close to them, for no report of their presence in the vicinity of the column had been brought to the Prince. They probably chose the spot carefully, knowing the land well for it was their land, and thus it was they had managed to get so close and appear ‘out of the blue’ (quite literally) on the horizon of the valley side. Yet some of their surprise was lost by the need to descend down the hill and into the valley, and the arabs of Amon used that time well. (Game note: the arabs got first turn, and so could manoeuvre their column into better positions before the Greenskins were on them! )
The Army of Amon now sounded drum and trumpet not in alarm but in order to transmit all the signals needed to wheel and reform and create some sort of battle line to meet the enemy. Gamouzo brought his warriors down from the hill to bring them towards the baggage train, hoping to provide some defence for the vital supplies. The train itself reformed and slunk back into the dip between two hills, trying to present as small a front as possible to the advancing Greenskins. The Desert Spears and their crossbow detachment turned to face the foe, one reforming, the other wheeling so as to bring their numbers to bear. Within the ranks of the Desert spear stood the second arab wizard, Mukri al-Hajib, as well as the Agha Qilij ad-Din an-Nasawa, who was the army standard bearer.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle8.jpg)
The two cannons in the centre hurriedly unlimbered and prepare themselves to fire …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle10.jpg)
… while the skirmishing archers turned to move towards the enemy, but not so far that they could not employ their bows also. The Palace Spearmen ended up in front of their detachment of Crossbows, due to their haste to get to the foe. Off even further out than them, the Swordsmen wheeled about and the mortar also unlimbered like the other artillery pieces.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle7.jpg)
The Light Horse, being the fastest and most flexible troops in the line, moved right out towards the enemy, hoping that by doing so they could intercept or at least slow the foe’s advance down. The rest of the army watched in a spirit of awe as these brave riders galloped out far ahead ready to make a lonely stand just to buy the rest of the army time.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle9.jpg)
But the riders had not gone so far that they could not attempt to shoot with their bows. When they did so they caused the first casualties of the day, bringing down two goblin wolfriders. On many occasions this would have been enough to send such cowardly warriors scarpering off in flight, but these goblins thought differently. Perhaps they had spotted the rich prize and that emboldened them to stay a little bit longer even in a place where their comrades had just died? Apart from these two deaths, the arabs with their magic and shooting could do no further harm to the Greenskins in this opening phase of the battle.
Apart from the goblin wolf riders on the far right, none of other Greenskins fell to squabbling just yet and all made their way forwards. BoneMawler cursed to himself, however, for he knew that there were more arab soldiers off to the right and he had intended to use the squabbling goblins as a distraction to slow them down. Nevertheless, he himself landed his wyvern in the far right - if the goblins could not counter the enemy's inevitable flanking move, then he and his monstrous mount would have to try.
The wolf, boar and chariot mounted warriors moved up, each unit starting to wheel so that they aimed straight at the baggage. Every Greenskin there wanted that loot, and they could think of little else!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle11.jpg)
The Greenskins could do nothing with arrows or magic (they had no shamans with them, just a magical item or two), but this did not worry them. Like I said, they had loot on their mind and being creatures of little wit, that greedy thought filled what mind they had almost entirely.
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Great stuff!
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Part 3 (Turn 2)
The three Big Bosses in their hulking chariots trundled forwards, their drivers’ long whips cracking at the tough hides of the boars. The lashes did not cause much pain to the boars, but registered enough to at least steer them, and the line of the three chariots was unusually neat (and, like the rest of the army, headed directly for the pack camels and mules).
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle12.jpg)
With a huge roar accompanied by the fast beating of kettledrums, the rear of the Arabyan column entered the field of battle.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle13.jpg)
The handgunners scrambled up the hill and formed into a double line so that they could fire salvos employing every piece down at the foe. The war elephant, closest to the huge wvyern but entirely unafraid of it, perhaps helped by the fact that it towered over the winged serpent, turned to block the War Boss’s path. The crew had not thought what they would do if the wyvern simply flew over them, as it so obviously intended to do! Prince Sadrin and his elite regiment of camel riders took up position on the elephant’s right flank, planning to charge at any foe approaching Gamouzo and his tribal warriors who had now bravely moved in front of the baggage.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle14.jpg)
The light horse in the very centre of the battlefield speedily reformed so that they could launch a cloud of arrows at the wolf riders attempting to run right by them. These arrows were joined by twenty more coming from the slave archers, which all added up to kill all but two of the goblins. This last pair fled away, and much to the Big Un’s annoyance, their flight put them right in the way of the boar riders’ intended charge into the exposed flank of the light horse. (Game Note: There ought to be a army book rule about this sort of thing - would these orcs have halted a charge because a couple of gobbo’s might have been hurt? I mean really? Then again, as you’ll see soon, they didn’t get in the way in the end!! )
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle15.jpg)
Out on the far right of the newly formed Arabyan line the swords and spears did what they could to approach the side of the field where the fighting was to happen. The two wizards now attempted to employ what magic they could, but although they managed first to gift Gamouzo with the strength and ferocity of a lion (Note: Bear’s Anger) Zadra then fumbled over the words of his next spell and the resultant wild magic struck him bloodily and collapsed the spell on Gamouzo!
The artillery proved a lot more effective than the wizards. Not the mortar, for it misfired (its crew having been over hasty in unlimbering and preparing to fire and somehow botching the procedure). It was the cannons who came good. Both sent their iron balls right into the wyvern and in that one dual blast tore through its chest and passed through its heart (amongst other major organs). War Boss BoneMawler now found himself lying on the ground beside his dead mount. As he got to his feet he silently cursed, and vowed vengeance on the Arabs for what they had done.
As ever with Greenskins, even in the midst of battle, arguments have a tendency of breaking out, as one goblin annoys another or one orc takes offence at another’s face. Thus it was now, even in sight of the foe and the rich haul of baggage, that the lesser of the two boar riders’ units, and the wolf riders out on the farthest left, chsoe to squabble amongst themselves instead of advancing. If the wolf riders had not been so distracted, they might have driven the skirmishing archers away, and the board riders may even have reached Gamouzo. One unit, however, the Big Uns, chose this moment to close on their foe with renewed vigour, and pushed right through the pair of fleeing goblins before them to close right up to the horse. (Game note: We decided that in a compulsory move like this, two goblins would not force a big unit of Big Un’s to go around them and so we just pushed the two goblins out to the side)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle16.jpg)
When the Big Un’s launched their inevitable charge the light horse chose to flee but they could not outrun the enraged boars and were slaughtered in flight to a man. The Big Un boar riders trampled bloodily over their broken bodies, their momentum barely lessened, and smashed right into the huge block of Desert Spears.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle17.jpg)
Already the Greenskins were reaching the foe. Perhaps even with a wyvern lying dead on the field they could salvage success from this? BoneMawler moved himself over to to the elephant’s flank, not wanting to face a charge from such a monster, while the three Big Boss Chariots advanced once more. The wolf riders on the right flank advanced, perhaps thinking about attempting to aid their War Boss (but being goblins, probably having no such loyal action on their mind.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle18.jpg)
The Big Un’s on boars hit the Desert Spears very hard, their Boss challenging and fighting the wizard, the rest slaying the Amon army standard bearer Agha Qilij (Game note: That Griffon Standard, if still there, would have saved them from running!) and killing the entire front rank. Although the Arabyan second rank thrust their spears forwards at the orcs, they could not harm them. This was a brutal blow the men of the desert could not withstand, and they broke and fled and were cut down just like the horsemen.
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Woah. The Wyvern attacked the elephant? Looks like from the picture the warboss is still alive, but it doesn't seem to be looking good for the orcs.
I'm up early making breakfast (eggs, pork roll, coffee flavored with chocolate, raspberry lemonade, banana) and doing some catch up reading on this thread. Very enjoyable way to spend an early Saturday morning. Thanks Padre! Your efforts inspire me to build more armies, paint more models, and eventually tell some stories like these. :icon_cool: :::cheers::: :eusa_clap:
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Woah. The Wyvern attacked the elephant? Looks like from the picture the warboss is still alive, but it doesn't seem to be looking good for the orcs.
I'm up early making breakfast (eggs, pork roll, coffee flavored with chocolate, raspberry lemonade, banana) and doing some catch up reading on this thread. Very enjoyable way to spend an early Saturday morning. Thanks Padre! Your efforts inspire me to build more armies, paint more models, and eventually tell some stories like these. :icon_cool: :::cheers::: :eusa_clap:
Likewise!
Though those boar chariots are looking a little nasty. I'd bet on them ploughing through many a brave Arabyan!
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The Prince had better look to his baggage or all is lost! As it is he's going to need reinforcing even if he wins.
Of course the Orc Warlord may not live to see a victory...
Have a pint on me for the tale!
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Thanks guys
@ GP: The wyvern was killed by two arab cannon balls in turn 2. I'm sure I put that bit in .... wait I'll check ... yup it's there. I would have liked to see what happened re: elephant versus wyvern, but it was not to be in this battle!
I'll get the rest up ASAP, for the mo, I've been drinking too much beer and thus really should not be trying to post!!
Just saw Uryens at a BBQ. It was great fun. He's still there now 'cos he doesn't have a baby to put to bed, as do I! In fact ... got to go ...
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:::cheers:::
Looking forwar to seeing more .
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Thanks guys
@ GP: The wyvern was killed by two arab cannon balls in turn 2. I'm sure I put that bit in .... wait I'll check ... yup it's there. I would have liked to see what happened re: elephant versus wyvern, but it was not to be in this battle!
Ah ... not sure how I missed that, but I went back and reread. Maybe I misplaced where I had left off in between reading here and making breakfast. :icon_rolleyes: :icon_lol:
I'll get the rest up ASAP, for the mo, I've been drinking too much beer and thus really should not be trying to post!!
Just saw Uryens at a BBQ. It was great fun. He's still there now 'cos he doesn't have a baby to put to bed, as do I! In fact ... got to go ...
Sounds like Uryens has been eating heartily today. :icon_wink:
As for beer, I've been sipping leftover wine from last night dinner, and its much better today, so I went out and bought two more bottles for cellaring. Having lamb, rice, and wax beans tonight. And more wine. :icon_wink:
(GP, this is Padre's story thread! :icon_eek: :icon_mad:)
Ooops. :icon_redface:
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You are giving us a good insight into your culinary habits today, GP! :D
:::cheers:::
Looking forwar to seeing more .
Seconded.
Oh and every Yorkshireman eats and drinks heartily, its what they're famous for! They all also have hearty laughs and say 'aye-up'.
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You are giving us a good insight into your culinary habits today, GP! :D
For some, my liking of wine isn't new. :icon_wink: :icon_cool:
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Aye up
:icon_lol: :::cheers:::
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Part 4 (Turns 3 & 4)
With a roar that could be heard by the swordsmen upon the far side of the field, the war elephant now charged towards Big Boss Erbad’s chariot, a sight so terrifying that Erbad immediately turned and ran. War Boss Bonemawler thanked the orcen gods Gork and Mork that the beast and its crew had ignored him - his own legs would not have carried him to safety like the boars pulling the chariot had done for Erbad!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle19.jpg)
Frustratingly for Prince Sadrin, he and his heavy camel cavalry could not get through the gap ahead of them, so they could not join in the elephant’s charge. Elsewhere, however, other Arabyans did manage a charge - the Palace Spearmen chasing off a unit of wolfriders. Neither of these Arabyan charges reached the foe. These Greenskins were proving top be not only mobile but slippery too!
As the Arabyan wizards’ magic fizzled and failed, a variety of artillery pieces gave fire. The mortar proved very effective now that it did not misfire, killing three of the orc boar riders who had been squabbling - a turn of events which first snapped them out of their quarrel and then dismayed them so much that they turned and fled! At the same time, one of the canons misfired, but the other tore one of the boar chariots apart, leaving Big Boss Dufdig to continue the battle on foot, just like his master Bonemawler. Dufdig hefted his magical axe and eyed the elephant off to his right. He needed time to work out exactly what he might do next, not that he was dazed by the sudden destruction of his chariot, rather that his orcen brain was not exactly built for speedy thinking!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle20.jpg)
The goblin wolfriders on the far right realised that they could hit the elephant in its flank. Steeling themselves to overcome their fear of its huge size, and experiencing a rare surge of boldness they began to move towards it. Then, holding their spears tips high to aim at the beasts heavy cloth covered flank, they charged.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle23.jpg)
The unusually brave goblins did manage to drag one crewman out of the howdah and pierce him with spears as he lay on the ground, but while they did so three of their own number were trampled to death. Belatedly realising the utter foolishness of attempting to attack such a massive monster, the survivors now did what goblins do best and ran away.
Their bravery in charging in the first place had not gone unnoticed. Not wanting to be outdone by a bunch of pathetic goblins several orcs also charged the foe. Bonemawler, still a little unbalanced by the death of his wyvern, threw himself alone into the camel riders and challenged the prince himself to fight. Big Boss Clubcra, having decided that although there was something frightening about Gamouzo he would not let it stop him, charged headlong into the tribal warriors blocking the way to the baggage.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle22.jpg)
This proved utterly overhwelming for the southlander skirmishers: the heavy chariot tore four of them down from the impact alone, and more still were gored by the boars. Clubcra smashed Gamouzo’s head in with his Screamin’ Sword, then hacked it completely off for good measure. The last surviving tribal warriors fled along with Zadra the wizard, and were ridden down brutally by the chariot. (Zadra lay unconscious but not quite dead amongst their broken bodies.) Clubcra thus found himself in amongst the baggage he and the rest of BoneMawler’s raiders had lusted after for days. His sword was bloody, his boars enraged and he was surrounded by loot. He was in Greenskin heaven!
Still more charges were being delivered, not least the two goblin chariots who now launched themselves at the Arabyans’ cannons. They might not be as heavy as the orc boar chariots, but this had proved a boon so far, for the foe had failed to notice them and thus had not put a stop to them. One was studded with arrows, yes, but it still had momentum enough to crash into the cannon crew. Between them, these two chariots killed every gunner and crewman there. The Arabyans would not be using their guns any more this battle.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle21.jpg)
To the rear of the Greenskin’s line Big Boss Erbad figured it was safe to stop running and turn about to see what was happening. One of the goblin wolf rider units did the same. The orc boar riders and the pair of wolfriders in the very centre of the field, however, decided that they would go a little further before turning back around, just to make sure no one could reach them.
The Big Un boar riders busied themselves reforming on the rocky ground were they had dispersed the Desert Spears, to face towards the hill that was between them and their real goal - the baggage. Off on the other side of that baggage BoneMawler and the Prince of Amon were locked in combat, both drawing blood, but Bonemawler’s rage held and he fought on. The two of them now began a drawn-out combat that would see them busy thrusting, hacking and parrying for some time.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle24.jpg)
The skirmishing slave archers chose this moment to see if they could chase off the wolf chariots, as they had previously failed to finish them off with their bows. Both chariots fled (the archers charge would have allowed them to reach both), and both were actually happy about this, for their voluntary flight took them towards the Arabyan baggage! The crossbows on the hill managed to rally and reform to face the slowly advancing boar riders, though in truth their hearts were not really set upon facing a charge by a unit of Big Uns that had just chased down an entire regiment of twenty five and two of their nobles.
As the war elephant wheeled to try and get itself to a position where it might launch a telling charge, the handgunners on the hill took pot shots at Dufdig (who was running around below them on his own). The Greenskin gods must have favoured him, for all the bullets all missed. While Dufdig pranced about his fellow Big Boss, Clubcra, easily dispatched the few arab slaves willing to try and defend the baggage, and thus rolled his chariot right into the heart of the loot. (Game note: The baggage was counted as a kind of mobile terrain feature, with four models who could be used like a cannon crew to defend it. Now that Clubcra had properly contacted it, then as long as he was alive at the end of the game then he would get the +150 VP bonus for having grabbed some loot.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle25.jpg)
For some reason known only to themselves, the spear armed wolf riders now decided they would move towards the Palace Spearmen, as if to threaten them (Animosity @ 6), but then they came to their senses and moved directly away again as far as they could - it was far enough that the Spearmen could not possibly reach them in a charge.
(This pic is from just before the wolfriders’ bizarrely bold turn toward the foe. )
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle26.jpg)
Big Boss Erbad, however, felt a little more reckless and attempted to charge the elephant’s exposed flank with his chariot. He failed, as the beast was just too far away for his lumbering war machine to reach it. The Big Un boar riders at the bottom of the hill looked up at the crossbowmen above them …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle27.jpg)
… and decided to stop faffing about trying to reform and get on with the business of battle. They charged them, slowed a little by the rocky ground, admittedly, they would still have been able to reach them if the arabs had not chosen to flee away (which they did). Still, the board riders could now see the baggage down below them and some of them were literally salivating at the thought of what they could take.
Behind them one of the wolf chariots slowed its flight as the crew chose to stick around. The other one turned to its left to get away as quickly as possible from the archers behind. This proved a very bad decision for it passed over the rear of the rocky ground just vacated by the boar riders and jolted itself to pieces, tossing it's crew down to dash them against the rocks. Far away, next to the Greenskin’s own baggage which was behind a hill on the far side of the valley, the other boar riders finally stopped their running and turned to see if anyone was following them. As they stood there, with their own baggage closer to the foe than themselves, they wondered what BoneMawler might have to say to them later about their lack of contribution to the fighting. What they didn’t know was that BoneMawler was trying to fight an entire regiment of heavy cavalry and a heroic Arabyan prince to boot - a state of affairs that made it rather unlikely they would have to listen to his complaints that evening.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle28.jpg)
Not that BoneMawler was dead yet - he remained locked in combat with the Prince and once again drew royal blood! His fury held a bit longer and he fought on, refusing to accept that against so many his fight must surely prove ultimately futile.
While he fought, Clubcra was rolling his loot-laden chariot through the baggage, and Dufdig was still trying to get away from the war elephant. All in all the Greenskins were not having too bad a day!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle29.jpg)
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A nail biter and no mistake! Have a pint and tell on!
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Cliff-hanging story, keep it coming as it's easily one of the best reports one can read!
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Part 5 (Turns 5 & 6)
The War Elephant tried its best to run down Big Boss Dufdig, but the orc was nimble on his feet and ran out of its reach. The Crossbowmen on the hill who had just run from the Boar Riders rallied, reformed their ranks and re-spanned their bows. Maybe they could make a stand after all? The northern tribe archers, on the other hand, simply got on with the business of shooting and managed to stick an arrow or two into the goblin wolf chariot. They only really scratched it a bit. The handgunners up on the hill thought they might at least stop Big Boss Clubcra trundling away with his burden of loot, and shot a volley down at him. Once again, their skill (or perhaps the quality of their powder) proved deficient, for they could not harm him.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle31.jpg)
(Game Notes: Various other units, the swordsmen and the other crossbow detachment now slowed their attempts to cross the field. They couldn’t move quick enough to contribute to the fighting, and so the player got to thinking about table quarter VPs!)
Even though the mortar landed a grenado right on top of the Big Un boar riders it seemed the orcs and their ‘sangliers’ (as the Bretonni would say) were made of tough stuff. Not one was felled by the thunderous blast. War Boss BoneMawler was not so lucky as his Big Uns, nor as fast as his Big Boss. In fact all his luck ran out as he ran away. Finally realising that he could expect only death at the hands of an entire regiment of heavy camel cavalry and their prince, he turned to flee and was trampled to death by the enemy’s pursuit.
The crew of the last surviving wolf chariot now whooped with glee as their war machine rolled into the midst of the Arabyan baggage. They couldn’t stuff loot into their chariot quick enough!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle30.jpg)
The Big Un boar riders, finally fully extricated from the rough ground, now tried a second charge at the recently rallied crossbowmen and this time smashed right into them. Nine Arabyans out of the ten died in the next moment, and the boars’ momentum carried them onwards and straight down into the baggage. More whoops of joy sounded, though these a little deeper in tone than the previous squeaky shouts of the goblins, and the while the boars began goring and feasting on camels, the Big Uns grabbed everything of value they could find.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle32.jpg)
Various other Greenskins were backing off now - knowing that their tribe had done what they had come here to do. Clubcra left in his chariot, while the wolf riders and Dufdig kept moving ahead of the foe. The crew of the war elephant were desperately trying to turn their beast to charge at the plundering wolf chariot, but they could not manage (Out of charge arc!). Instead they thought they might at least prevent Big Boss Erbad in his chariot reaching the baggage and swung the creature around to block him. Big Boss Dufdig was slowing down, chuffed to see that the elephant was no longer chasing him. He was out of breath, and stopped for a moment to work out what he could do next. He never did decide, because twenty archers sent a cloud of arrows his way to pierce him from head to toe. He was dead (from one that went into his eye) before he even hit the ground.
Erbad was not going to let an elephant get in the way of his chance to get some loot. Not that he charged the elephant (he was not that daft) instead he just squeezed by it and trundled off into the baggage. (Game Notes: This was the fourth and final Greenskin unit to gain the scenario baggage VP - that’s 600 VP altogether.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle34.jpg)
All the remaining arabs could do, scattered as they were across the valley, was watch in despair as greedy green hands robbed their baggage and disappeared off into the evening’s gloom.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/AmonBattle33.jpg)
The Army of Amon’s march south was going to prove a hungry one!
Result: 1060 VP to Greenskins. Solid Victory.
---------------------------------------------------------
Game Commentary
I played the Greenskins, though I did describe the army lists and scenario to my opponent and gave him the choice of which side to play. He picked the arabs. (Thanks Tom, btw, for an excellent game.)
You probably thought that the Arab deployment was odd, but Tom was trying to make me struggle to deploy appropriately by leaving his baggage placement until last, and several big gaps it could possibly fit in so I couldn’t guess. This way I was placing my units without knowing where their goal would be! The trouble is he was then left with those big gaps in his line, and units like the Black Swordsmen and Palace Spears were stuck right out on his right flank and unable to get into the battle. Also, I left my Orc units ‘til last so that they at least would be close to the baggage.
Oh, and you may have noticed I forget to do Waagh in nearly every game when I play Greenskins! It could have helped. Then again, it was a win so I shouldn’t complain.
PS: Do you think the scenario rules were valid? Balanced? Etc?
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:eusa_clap:
Well done on another inspirational installment! I'm not too experienced at playing, but it seems like the orcs may have had an easy time plundering the army. Maybe if they only got 100VP per unit that looted or something. It seems like the mobility of the orcs gave them a big advantage for the scenario. I guess that is also kinda fitting seeing as that looting was the orc's goal!
All in all, very well done! It should make for some good storytelling in the rest of the campaign. :::cheers:::
Tim
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Great report!
I wouldn't sweat the balance issues. One off campaign battles are hard to balance since only multiple games will reveal any flaws. Player's actions become very important and the Empire player made some realistic mistakes. The battle fits the story line and moves it forward. Job's a good 'un!
Now if the Prince's BSB were mounted, it might have turned out differently...
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Maybe allowing the araby forces a single unit that can deploy anywhere to represent the colmumns flank protection?
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Aboard the Terrible Corsair
Nine miles upriver
Herman Gouma was getting annoyed.
“I’ll have you know I’ve been seeing ‘em all morning,” he insisted, “and I won’t stand for you calling me a liar.”
Stefanus wanted him to be wrong, and was now beginning to realise it was this urge that was making him disbelieve his friend.
“I ain’t saying you’re not seeing something, just that it’s most likely some monkeys or lizards or some such creature.”
“I know the walking dead when I see them. Besides, I recognised one of ‘em.”
Stefanus fell silent. Now he really wanted Herman to be wrong. “It just doesn’t make sense. I know we’re fighting the current and the tide, and I know the wind is against us and them that are on the oars are tired, but how could anything move through that tangle of green fast enough to keep up with us?”
Herman rolled his eyes. “How can they move at all? They’re dead! But they do, so what’s a bit of jungle to them when they shouldn’t be walking at all?”
“Give me the glass,” demanded Stefanus. “I’ll look for myself.”
He rubbed the end with his shirt sleeve then placed the instrument up to his eye. First he saw just the river water, then the dense greenery came into view. Nothing.
“There’s nothing I can see, not even monkeys. How many did …Wait! Wait a moment. Ho! I see something!”
“Told you so,” muttered Herman.
There was movement in amongst the leaves and vines, then suddenly a man stepped out almost into full view. His putrid flesh was an awful shade of green and his eyes stared blankly out while his mouth hung open. He wore a jerkin of leather over a torn shirt of linen. In his hand he clutched a pistol, which he suddenly lifted up to aim out at the Tabrizian fleet of smaller ships and boats making their way upriver. Then he stood, the pistol swaying about as if he was drunk, and gave every appearance of watching.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic6c.jpg)
“I see one, and I think another behind him.”
“Is it Kurt?” asked Herman.
Stefanus took the glass from his eye. “It was Kurt you saw?”
“Aye, and he didn’t look too well.”
Replacing the glass, Stefanus now began to move it along the river’s edge. More undead appeared, a whole bunch of them: one pointing a rusted blunderbuss, another with an arrow stuck right through his belly!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic6f.jpg)
“Manaan save us! They’re there alright, and umpteen of ‘em. I reckon the whole army is following us.”
Then he saw another three, the two at the front just as green as the first he saw, but behind them, still wearing his blue head scarf, still clutching the huge bone he used as a club in fights and almost the same colour he had been when alive, was Kurt. They’d left him on the dunes with a cutlass thrust into his back and zombies scrambling over him. Now here he was following them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic6e.jpg)
"I can see him now."
“Do you think he’s changed sides, then?” said Herman.
Stefanus was not in the mood for jests and asked, “D’you think we’ll end up like that?”
“It’s not what I’ve got planned. I wants a proper share of the gold, then a fine time turning it into hot liquors while I play with the wenches in Tabriz, and in the end to be put in the ground, all nice and restful.”
Stefanus listened absently to Herman’s words whilst scanning further along with the glass. Suddenly he gasped, a fearful chill coursing right through him as he saw the monstrous face of Grand Admiral Galdabash himself looking right at him!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic6a.jpg)
“Manaan and all the gods protect me!” he prayed as he whipped the glass from his eye. After gulping and steadying himself on the gunwhale, he handed the glass back.
“Here, Herman, you keep at if you want. I’m done with looking at the jungle.”
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:eusa_clap: Excellent!
How much scenery do you have, Padre?
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@ Inarticulate: Quite a bit. It's not what I'd call fancy, though. I went for quantity rather than quality.
There's to be a short lull now for a few days 'cos I have to work on the Bat Rep for the Border Princes (linked to the Solland effort) Ogres vs Dwarves Bat Rep I fought with Uryens yesterday. So, still doing a report, just not one for this particular thread!
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Padre, you are indeed the King of Battle Reports!
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I'll drink to that! :::cheers:::
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And now a second short delay added to the first 'cos I'm off to be a 'real' (as in reenactment) buccaneer on Anglesey this weekend. I will have my own crew of scurvy scallywags to boss about, and apparently we're going to defeat some silly militia men who reckon they can take us on. Maybe I will be inspired by it all for the next part of this story?
Do any tribes of Pygmies live on Anglesey I wonder? That'd be just like what I intended next in 'All that Glistens'!
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Than bring up the pygmy wenches! :engel:
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Temple of the Living God Bo-Tana-Oon
The birds and monkeys had been behaving unusually for two days. Something in the air disturbed them, some smell or sound that only they could sense. They became quiet, still and watchful. This odd behaviour in turn had an effect on the pygmies - though their response was to become agitated and fearful and pray to their gods.
One of their living gods, Bontanoan, pondered upon what all this might mean. Unlike the older generations of Slann, he did not ponder long - a minute or so was long enough for him. Being a larval Slann* sparkling thoughts danced about his young brain rather more quickly than an adult, perhaps because they were of a less deep and complicated nature. Not that he was infantile compared to the lesser races’ adult forms: he had some mastery of magic and considerable knowledge of many arts. It was more that what cleverness he had was nimble in form, and not lumbered by a great weight of knowledge garnered over centuries. Tehenhauin had a more instinctive intelligence than his aged father, and he was more in tune with the song of the jungle.
At the end of his brief contemplation he decided there must be something new in the jungle nearby, something the birds and monkeys found disturbing, so he called for his two spawn brothers. His shrill, piercing cry could be heard for more than two miles and perhaps made the fauna even more nervous. He then waited, standing upon the huge stone dais that served as his temple, his only companions a handful of pygmy servants and guards.
The pygmy chief Atta-ooga had to steel himself not to cover his ears as the living god Bo-Tana-Oon gave a cry like the brightly feathered Jallo birds, though much more powerful (of course). No magic was used in making the call, not that Atta-ooga could sense, nor was any animal horn or shell employed. His totem bearer flinched by his side, no doubt making the dried-bean filled skulls on the totem rattle - not than any of the pygmies could hear the sound over the heavenly screeching.
The cry ended abruptly, not so the echo, but eventually there was silence. Not one beast, fowl nor crawling insect sullied its god-given potency. Then there was a new sound and Chief Atta-ooga felt a surge of anger at what he thought was irreverence, sacrilege even - until he realised it was made by the brother gods Ta-Dino-Po and Go-Akill-An. Of course they, and only they, had the right to impose themselves on Bo-Tana-Oon in such a manner. The two leapt lithely onto the dais then suddenly came to a halt to enter a stance so still that they appeared to have transformed in a flash into statues. This heavenly talent to instantly remove themselves from the world of motion, to enter a state in which time itself seemed to have no dominion over them, had always impressed Atta-ooga. It was considered a sacred trait, so much so that in the last season three children had been fed to the Salamanders for playing a game in which they mocked this very trait.
Bontanoan greeted his two siblings with a blink of both eyes. Like them, he was garbed in ornate armour which to warm-bloods’ eyes looked to be fashioned of silver, but it was not so. Rather it was made of a beaten core of gold upon which mercury was made perpetually to shimmer and flow magically. In this way it looked as damp as the flesh of the larval Slann, and although it had nothing like the strength of steel armour (nor its magically distracting properties) it at least protected the thin and delicate larval skin from thorns and barbs, and sometimes the fluid surface deflected enemies’ blades, making them slide over the surface harmlessly.
Bontanoan carried ceremonial daggers of obsidian, and a mace of gold silvered with mercury just like his armour. His sibling Tadinopo carried a staff topped with a sharp blade taken from a warm-blood (Tadinopo had always been fascinated in the warm bloods); while Goakitlan carried a mace that had once been born by a mighty lizard warrior in the age when Saurus and Skinks had dwelt in the jungle outside of his father’s city.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic7.jpg)
“Something is close. Something the jungle fears,” announced Bontanoan.
Tadinopo blinked his acknowledgement, while Goakitlan waited for more to be said.
Bontanoan had known this was exactly how his siblings would respond. “I do not know what, but it is large or numerous enough to have a wide effect. And it is near the great river. We must learn its nature before it comes any closer to our father’s city.”
Again the blink, this time from both siblings.
“It is agreed, then. I shall go, and I will take the warriors of the Atta tribe with me. I will discover what it is that approaches.”
Goakitlan beat his mace on his shield. “I will go with you, brother Bontanoan.”
Tadinopo beat his staff on the stone ground. “Take the Olobol tribe also, then you will have sufficient force to attack whatever it is. This way they might be stopped from coming closer. I will warn our father, and will summon the warriors of the more distant tribes. If you fail, then whatever approaches will face yet another army when they arrive, and a third if they dare to come close to our father’s city.”
* Note: My ‘larval’ Slann are 1980’s Slann models and count as skink priests - exactly the same stats, points and abilities. Bontanoan and his two brothers, being recently spawned Slann are an incredible rarity. Their ‘father’ was forced by necessity to create them because he was the last surviving Slann for thousands of miles. He takes his role as guardian of the ancient city and its secrets very seriously - enough to do what was not only distasteful to him but something that is considered highly dubious behaviour by most Slann.
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Nice
<sings>Now I'm the king of the swingers, Oh, the jungle VIP, I've reached the top and had to stop, And that's what botherin' me <walks off singing>
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Pygmies! Who will they fight the pirates or the undead?
Will the Prince recover from the ambush?
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When Two Tribes go to War (the Atta and Olobol)
A 2035 pt ('counts as') Lizardman army (Pygmies & Larval Slann)
Bontanoan (as Tehenauin)
General, Tide of Serpents, Blade of Serpent's Tongue, Plaque of Sotek
Goakitlan (as Skink priest)
Lvl 2, Piranha Blade, Plaque of Tepok
Pygmy Shaman (as Skink Priest)
Lvl 2, Diadem of Power, Cloak of Feathers
Pygmy Chief (as Skink Chief)
Scimitar of the Sun Resplendent
--------------------------------------
25 Pygmies (as Skinks) with FC
20 Pygmy Skirmishers (as Skink Skirmishers), FC, Blowpipe
20 Pygmy Skirmishers (as Skink Skirmishers), FC, Blowpipe
22 Pygmy Dwarf Boar Riders (counts as Saurus Warriors), FC, spear, shield
4 Terradon Riders with Brave
3 Jungle Swarms
3 Jungle Swarms
3 Salamander Hunting Packs (4 handlers each)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/SkinkSkirmishers.jpg)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Saurus.jpg)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Terradons.jpg)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Salamanders.jpg)
Just need to arrange an opponent now! I could be playing either side in this one - I always give my opponent the choice when doing these things.
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If you can wait a week or so I'll play you
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Woo hoo! Can't wait. I suppose you thought my comment was an subtle ruse to get you to volunteer but no ... my brian is no way near that cunning or good at lateral thinking. I was just sitting here feeling sorry for myself!!
It'll be a fight in a swamp, but both armies are (mostly) aquatic. You get to be crazy pygmies or just as insane zombie pirates. What more can you ask for?
I'll just have to do more story in the meantime, or sneak an arab game in!
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Woo hoo! Can't wait. I suppose you thought my comment was an subtle ruse to get you to volunteer but no ... my brian is no way near that cunning or good at lateral thinking. I was just sitting here feeling sorry for myself!!
It'll be a fight in a swamp, but both armies are (mostly) aquatic. You get to be crazy pygmies or just as insane zombie pirates. What more can you ask for?
I'll just have to do more story in the meantime, or sneak an arab game in!
Poor Brian :(
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Down the River
Herman and Stefan stood with the rest of the foremast men on the deck amidships deck, and like everyone else they were staring up at the poop deck where Captain Bart was clutching at mizzenmast and looking back down at them. A few moments of quiet passed - not complete silence, for the ship creaked and there were sounds from the other ships and boats nearby, but it was a soundlessness that was rare upon the Ocean Blight.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic8.jpg)
Finally the Captain spoke. Before the Battle of the Dunes he would have shouted, but now, wearing the whip lash scar from that battle down the left hand side of his face, with his eyes always wide and his complexion not what one could call healthy, he addressed them much more quietly. They all leaned forwards, straining to hear.
“The ship ain’t goin’ much further up this river, and she certainly ain’t going through the swamp ahead. I say we leave her here, with a skelet …” Here the captain stopped a moment and frowned. It took a while for some of the slower thinkers amongst the crew to work out why, but when they heard the mutters of “Manaan protect us” and such like, and the general murmurs about cursing the ship, they eventually realised. No one wanted a skeleton crew on board!
The Captain stroked the scar on his cheek and then went on, “I mean to say a guard crew. We’ll put a guard crew on her, and the rest of us can take the boats. We’ll put the pinnace together and take that and the towed boat. What say you?”
“I ain’t going ashore to build no pinnace,” shouted one of those at the front of the crowd.
Loud murmurs of agreement spread through the rest, as several of them could not help but glance once more at the shifting mangroves at the river’s edge to see once more the creeping presence of the undead - here a hat and a torn shirt, there a bloody face and a deathly grimace, and elsewhere clouds of buzzing flies or the rusty muzzle of an ill-kept handgun.
The Bosun Jan Mostert stepped up by the side of the captain, his bald pate shining in the sun, golden earrings glinting and his massive, flared muzzle pistol couched on his hip. He wore no shirt, not having done so since the Battle of the Dunes, when he had stumbled and put his arm elbow deep into the swollen, foetid belly of a zombie, so fouling his shirt that he had torn it off and thrown it into the sea on his way back to the fleet. “There’s no need to go ashore,” he told them all, in a voice much more certain than the captain’s. “We can fit her together on the deck.”
“That’s alright then, ain’t it?” said the fellow who had spoken up before.
There were several ‘ayes’ amongst the crew, but all on the poop deck could tell that their usual boisterousness was absent.
Stefanus cleared his throat nervously, and raised a hand. “I wants to speak.”
The Quartermaster, Lisbeth Boone, furrowed her brow. “You do?”
There was no answer, but she knew it was her place to run proceedings should council be called for. “ Then speak on, man,” she demanded, “for all have their say in this ship.”
Stefanus glanced at Herman, who gestured with a nod to encourage him.
“The Captain ain’t well. We all see that.” Nods and ayes of agreement rippled through the gathered crew. “I say that we ought to decide upon another captain, at least until he is well enough to lead us again.”
All waited for the captain to speak, but he said nothing. Instead it was the Bosun who glared at Stefanus and shouted. “S’pose you have someone in mind?”
“This ain’t a mutiny,” said Stefanus quickly, “and you know it. This is a call for a vote, to know the crew’s mind over that which plainly needs deciding.”
Lisbeth drew her cutlass from its scabbard and pointed it at the men. “I say when there’s to be a vote when enough of you demand it.”
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic8b.jpg)
Herman was the first to respond. “We do demand it.” All those around him gave a loud ‘aye’.
“Then as per the articles we shall have a vote,” said Lisbeth. “Are all present?”
“Aye” came the cry from everyone on the main deck. Then a moment later came a cry of “Nay” from behind the Captain. It was the ship’s boy, little Adolfus Korpel.
“Who’s missing?” the quartermaster asked.
“Martin,” said the boy. “He’s below deck in his hammock. He ain’t yet recovered from his wound.”
Lisbeth looked confused. “I thought he was dead.”
“Not dead, no. He’s just badly. But I spoke to him this morning.”
Spinning back round to face the crew, Lisbeth pointed her blade at Stefanus. “You want a vote, then you fetch him. And take Herman to help you carry him.”
The two of them stepped over to the hatch, then disappeared down into the darkness below.
“Martin?” called Stefanus. “Where are you?”
There was no answer.
“You asleep?” said Herman quietly. Stefanus glanced at him as if he were mad. “What?” asked Herman. “I didn’t want to disturb him.” Then realisation dawned on him. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
“You check starboard and I’ll look larboard.”
It was Herman who found him first, and he called his mate over. The two of them then stood looking at the hammock. Martin was covered with a blanket, with only the back of his head showing because he was facing the hull.
“Shake a leg, Martin” said Herman. “We’re voting on a Captain.”
There was no movement in response. Apart from the slow swaying of the hammock from side to side, rocked by the gentle motion of the ship, there was no sign of life under the blanket. Martin did not appear even to be breathing.
“I think,” began Herman, “... well, you know … it was bad wound. You can smell how it festered. I reckon he’s …” He stopped suddenly, blanched, then stepped back. Stefanus did the same.
Herman drew his gully knife, while Stefanus swept his cutlass from out from the sash at his waist.
“You think …?” began Herman.
“Of course,” interrupted Stefanus before Herman could finish. “It’s happened to all the others who died. This river’s cursed. It’s Galdabash’s doing, and it won’t stop ‘til he goes away.”
“So do we …?” Once more Herman failed to complete his words, but instead just gestured with his knife at his neck.
“We do.”
As Stefanus spoke, the bloodstained blanket twitched and Martin began to roll over onto his back, one arm pulling at the edge of the hammock. When his face appeared they could see his eyes had rolled right back in the sockets so that only the whites, or more accurately yellows, where visible.
Two seconds later and Martin was in two pieces, divided neatly at the belly by the vicious swipe of Stefanus’ razor sharp cutlass, each half of the the sliced hammock hanging down over him. He was not moving any more.
Two minutes later and Stefanus’ head reappeared at the hatch. Everyone on the deck turned to look at him.
“Martin won't be voting,” he said as he tossed his bloodied blade out onto the deck so that he could pull himself up. “Let’s get on with it.”
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Grand Admiral Galdabash’s Zombie Pirates Total Points = 2052
(A White Dwarf #306 Luthor Harkon Zombie Pirates List)
Grand Admiral Galdabash (as Luthor Harkon)
Vampire Fleet Captain (Brace of Pistols, Moonshine)
Vampire Fleet Captain (Brace of Pistols, Bloody Norah!)
Vampire Fleet Captain (Battle Standard, Dead Man’s Chest)
25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob (Musician)
25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob (Standard, Musician)
25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob (Standard, Musician)
10 Zombie Pirates Gunnery Mob
2 Bloated Corpses
14 Scurvy Dogs (with Bad Dog)
5 Animated Hulks
2 Carronades
5 Bases of Razortooth Rats
1 Rotting Leviathan
Note: This is a proper White Dwarf Luthor Harkon List
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Battle of the Swamps Part One
The Atta and Olobol tribes gathered every warrior they could when the living god Bo-Tana-Oon, with his brother Go-Akill-An by his side, ordered it done. The youngest braves amongst them were excited for they had never been commanded in battle by one of the gods, while the older warriors wondered at just what it was they were going to do for they had never been led in battle by two of the gods together. None had much time to ponder all this, however, for Bo-Tana-Oon led them away before nightfall, and then all their concentration was on not getting lost or separated from the army as they moved through the jungle.
By dawn, they had left their own realm far behind and had moved into the southern reaches of the swamp, where the great river wended is sluggish way across the land. The broken edge of the jungle ran along to the west of them, and the air was filled with the familiar foetid smell of the noisome swamp waters. But there was another odour assailing them, much worse than that of the land itself - the stench of death.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/SwampTerrain-1.jpg)
The larval Slann Bontanoan and his spawn brother Goakitlan could now see the foe over the flat land, and both decided that this was an enemy they could fight. He began signalling the warriors, his brother’s shrieks and cries joining in harmoniously and with precision. The Pygmies noticed this, and some wondered whether the god Go-Akill-An knew exactly what his brother was thinking. (And he did - it was a magical ability the two siblings had been practising for some time now.)
Most of the Pygmies’ strength gathered in the centre and on the left the line. Twenty blowpipe armed skirmishers moved boldly up on the far left flank, led by Goakitlan; then came the main band of tribal warriors, with Chief Atta-ooga and Bontanoan himself in their front rank. Two large swarms of jungle creatures moved ahead of this regiment. The hardest hitting unit, the dwarf-boar riders (Saurus equivalent), advanced in the centre, with the terrifying fire-breathing salamanders on their flank, prodded forwards by a mass of pygmy braves armed with javelins.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp2.jpg)
Out on the far right another large band of skirmishers crept through the cover of the jungle, while four Terradons and their Pygmy brave riders swooped forwards to their left.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp3.jpg)
Bontanoan had brought only those who could move relatively quietly on this journey, for he had thought that if the enemy proved too strong he would retreat from them all the wiser and then gather the other tribes. Thus he commanded no Stegadons or Gorrilagors (aka Kroxigors). Still, he was confident, for the foe were a pathetic looking band of warriors, held together by some sort of curse, but nevertheless presenting a shambling and rag tag appearance. They moved slowly (what wits they might once have possessed were long since gone) and although they were walking dead, the cold blooded larval Slann and the stubborn little pygmies (counts as skink cold blooded rule interpreted as ‘stubborn little buggers’!) gave it hardly a thought.
Grand Admiral Galdabash once again marched with his mighty undead Ogres (the ‘Animated Hulks’), and once again he moved on the flank of the line - this time on the far right. Beside him three large regiments of zombie pirates staggered and splashed through the mire, their strength maintained by the corpses of the pirates who had been left behind during the Battle of the Dunes. Three Vampire Fleet Captains (rather more quick witted zombies than the rest) led them, and an undead Wyvern (‘Rotting Leviathan’) crawled along next to them. The creature had flown in life, but in death its wings proved too rotten and riddled with tears to support it, and so it dragged itself along over the soggy ground like a serpent might slither.
Two bloated corpses struggled to keep up with the zombies, but to their left the two carronades had halted, their crews now busy with loading and no longer concerned with hauling their burdens. In front of these petty cannons swarmed a large mass of Razortooth Rats. Out even further to the left ten Zombie Handgunners formed a line and hefted their rusty pieces ready to fire. Furthest out of all a pack of Scurvy Dogs moved in a strangely quiet manner, quite unlike how they would have barked and yelped in life.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp1.jpg)
The armies were arrayed, and the battle was about to begin.
TBC.
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Battle of the Swamps Part Two - Turn 1
Bontanoan gave vent to a high-pitched shriek that every warrior in his army could hear, even those on the far right, and the entire force began their advance. The Terradons were of course the swiftest amongst them, and they put this quality to good use - flying far out beyond the line with a mind to silence the carronades. The pygmies on their backs had seen such as the carronades before (no-one else in the army had) during their forays out to the coast. There they had espied ships carrying several similar weapons, and watched as they belched fire and rocks at other ships. But they had also witnessed how (like Salamanders) they needed handlers to encourage them. Now they intended kill those handlers.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp4.jpg)
The pygmy skirmishers of the Atta tribe moved up as best they could through the jungle trees, following the Terradons. In the centre the Salamanders moved forwards while the large regiment of Olobol tribe boar riders expanded their frontage that they might use more spears against the foe (Game Note: Or the player thought to take less hits from the carronades by having less ranks - you decide!)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp6.jpg)
On the left the two swarms of lizards, snakes, spiders and such like moved towards the massed ranks of zombies, while Bontanoan and his spawn brother led their regiments forwards too to enter the swamp. This might have made the going difficult for many a warrior, but not the pygmies. They were used to such terrain (Game Note and in-joke: The reason the pygmies have the skink equivalent ‘aquatic’ rule = Watersnake! You don’t understand? Here’s the reason again - Watersnake! See?)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp5.jpg)
It was now that Bontanoan and his spawn brother began to get the measure of the foe - for their magic failed to harm the enemy at all, instead dissipating even as they attempted to stir it up in to existence. These foul creatures of undeath were (perversely) guarded by a powerful anti-magical force, and its source seemed to be the blue skinned demonic creature on their right flank.
The three salamanders opened their mouths to spit gobbets of liquid flame high into the air, singeing the scurvy dogs some way off in front, bad enough to kill two. But no-one else in the Pygmy army was close enough yet to let loose with their missile weapons, neither javelins nor blowpipes.
Grand Admiral Galdabash had never fought an enemy such as this before. This might have made another commander cautious, but not so Galdabash - he was ruled by his passions, much given to whim, and caution was something he had forgotten existed. He ordered his army’s advance with a silent thought, for all were bound to his will. He himself (as if to prove his lack of temerity) advanced with his animated hulks right up in front of the twenty poisoned-dart, blowpipe-wielding pygmies. Let them do what they might, he thought, it was surely not enough to save them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp8.jpg)
The two zombie regiments at the front shambled as best they could towards the swarms, for want of anything better to do. They were led by three of Galdabash’s fleet captains, undead seamen with a little more wit about them than the rank and file around them, who were already wondering just how they were supposed to dispatch a mass of skittering, flittering creatures using zombie pirates who did nothing quickly. [Game Note: As the Wh.Dw. Luthor Harkon army list was for 6th ed. rules, then we were employing 6th ed V.C. rules, including brain-dead. I might not do this in future - in a spirit of compliance with the rules, of course, not just to get rid of an annoying limitation.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp10.jpg)
The Scurvy Dogs scuttled backwards in the face of the Terradons, trying somehow to get themselves in a position to intercept the flyers and prevent them getting at the brace of Carronades.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp7.jpg)
In the rear, the third body of Zombies began moving diagonally across the field, looking for some way to support Galdabash later in the battle, and the undead Wyvern flapped and flopped along beside them, its haphazard motion belying the considerable strength and ferocity it could still muster in anger.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp9.jpg)
Suddenly a red flowered carnivorous plant snapped open two leaves like jaws and swallowed up a zombie. (Game note: We were using the old Lustria book ‘Encounters’ rules, and this had been placed the turn before by my foe!) At almost the same moment quicksand claimed the lives of three of the warriors in Bontanoan’s regiment, while another carnivorous plant lashed out to kill three Pygmy Skirmishers out on the far right of their line. (Game note: Sweet, if rather randomly generated, revenge!)
Now came the Zombies’ first attempt at harming the foe with gunpowder. This proved somewhat disappointing, for both Carronades failed to reach the Salamanders with their shot (this being the first salvo in what could be described as an artillery duel) while three Zombie Handgunners tumbled to the ground when their own rusty pieces tore them instead of the enemy apart!
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Battle of the Swamps Part 3 (Turn 2)
Bontanoan did not intend to allow any other warriors to succumb to quicksand, not when there was a foe that needed fighting, so he ordered the regiment to fall back.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp8b.jpg)
As Bontanoan moved away from the enemy, one of his swarms charged into the centremost Zombie regiment, and the tiny creatures ranging from the size of insects to that of bloated lizards skittered and leapt about so nimbly that they bewildered their undead foe. The swarm dragged the army standard bearer down before he could even raise his cutlass, while the other fleet captain only managed to kill two little creatures with a thrust of his rusty blade. Three more Zombies fell, and thus began a slogging match that would last some time, while slowly but surely more and more dim-witted Zombies were dispatched by the fangs, claws, pincers and stings wielded by the swarm.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp12.jpg)
The Salamanders, Terradons and rightmost skirmishers of the Atta tribe all moved towards the centre of the field (a necessary move considering the enemy was over on that side). Once again all the spells the jungle dwellers could muster fell foul of the powerful dulling of magic that the foe’s presence caused. Goakitlan could only curse, then give the order for his skirmishers to let loose a hail of forty darts - both he and they were certain nothing on the gods’ earth could withstand such an attack. Yet only one of the Hulks fell while another staggered for a mere moment (5 wounds!). Galdabash and four of his Hulks were still coming!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp11.jpg)
The Terradon Riders skewered one of the unfortunate Zombie Handgunners with a javelin as they passed by. They whooped in delight, but their celebrations were cut short by screams coming from the Salamander handlers nearby whose fire breathing beasts had accidentally killed two of them, as well as failing to send their fire far enough to reach the Zombie regiment ahead.
With all this going on, the Terradon Riders failed to notice the threat from the Razortooth Rats (Game Note: The player forgot they were skirmishers with a 360 charge arc!) and were taken by surprise when the very large (5 bases) swarm set upon them. They tried to flee away from the danger but were simply not quick enough, and the rats overwhelmed them, dragged them down and began tearing at their flesh. Out on the right of Galdabash’s line he himself led his Hulks in a charge against the skirmishers in front of him.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp13-1.jpg)
They proved rather more fearless than the Terradon Riders and attempted to fight rather than run, but when their champion was brutally and bloodily torn apart by Galdabash and four more Pygmies perished in a similar fashion, the fact that they had managed hurt the foe (4 wounds on the Hulks) was not really foremost on their minds and they too fled, managing to get away. Perhaps, unlike the Terradons, they had realised only too well what was surely to come and had prepared themselves for exactly this flight?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp14.jpg)
Galdabash pursued and in so doing ended up caught in the quicksand himself. Being a pirate, however, and thus like the rest of his army not wearing armour, this proved no real danger to him. He simply splashed about a bit whilst staring at the enemy up ahead and conjured images in his mind concerning how he was going to rend them limb from limb!
When the Carronades attempted to fire a second time they had a little more success than previously. One did misfire, but the other managed tom wound a Salamander. Their success was bolstered by the continued efforts of the Zombie Handgunners, who also wounded a Salamander and at the loss of only one of their number this time (mind you, their were less of them to lose in the first place!)
Perhaps things were going Galdabash’s way?
Part 4 to follow.
Ok, quiz time (like I’ve done before). You’ve got the lists, terrain, deployment and a full description of the first two turns. So, who’ll win this one?
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I still don't get the "watersnake" bit about the pygmies :unsure:, care to enlighten me further?
I'm voting for the zombies to win, as they still have some hard hitters with the hulks and the leviathan... although I want the pygmies to win!
Tim
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I still don't get the "watersnake" bit about the pygmies :unsure: , care to enlighten me further?
That cracked me up, padre. You know why.
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My vote goes for the undead as the pygmy player has already forgotten some rules and seems to use the pygmies for the first time not sure how to use them against that dreaded foe.
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Interesting - Uryens was using my army of Pygmies and yes he has never played them but to be honest I myself don't know what rules he forgot because I myself rarely use them and don't really know the new Lizardmen rules that well.
Out of interest, Fandir, what did you spot? Maybe there was another reason he didn't employ certain rules, or maybe I just haven't brought it out in the report (can't put everything into a storyfied report you know!) Chances are, though, that we just both didn't know the rules/options your conisdering.
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Did he drop rocks on the head of units he has passed with his terradons? Why would one ever accept a charge with pygmis (skink skirmishers)? Even archer detachments can beat them up. Salamanders are skirmishers to give them better protection against shooting most of the time they are spitting flame from some sort of cover.
Well and overall he doesn´t seem to have a real plan how to get rid of your units...ok terradons against carronade is not a bad idea but the rest of the army seems to sit back and relax waiting what you will do. That is always the worst thing to do in warhammer, hanging back and waiting.
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Interesting points, Fandir. I think Uryens might agree with you re: hanging back by mistake with one particular unit - the 'counts-as' Saurus Pygmy Dwarf Boar Riders (Mind you, even I keep thinking 'cos they look like cavalry that they have a better move stat. It's one of the problems with 'counts-as' models.)
But apart from that, many of your criticisms don't apply in practise...
* Dropping rocks I forgot about (having never used it) and Uryens did not know about BUT he would NOT have wasted it on a unit of 10 Zombie handgunners who were killing themselves quicker than the foe. Then he was overun (simply an unexpectedly bad die roll) when the rats charged. So no unit to drop rocks left!
* We didn't think of the Salamanders being skirmishers - BUT the Zombie handgunners have a wierd 'ALWAYS hit in a 6' rule (no DMs apply) and the only other thing that shot at them were the carronades which are cannons. So the -1 to hit DM did not apply at all.
* When he accepted the charge I think he was hoping that he might get lucky and stop them hitting the massed unit with his general in behind before he was ready to get his boars in a position to flank attack. It was a trick which happened to work! The skirmishers subsequently got away anyway. As for the boars, see my comments above.
I've not given anything away re: future turns. But do keep in mind, the Luthor Harkon Vampire Fleet Zombie Pirates list is atrociously weak. I mean really, really weak. No magic. No summoning. Strike last. Zombie stats. No Horse. No armour. Restricted marching. An unstable general. And rubbish everything else. Wait 'til you see what the jungle swarms do to the two regiments of 25 zombies!
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Interesting points, Fandir. I think Uryens might agree with you re: hanging back by mistake with one particular unit - the 'counts-as' Saurus Pygmy Dwarf Boar Riders (Mind you, even I keep thinking 'cos they look like cavalry that they have a better move stat. It's one of the problems with 'counts-as' models.)
But apart from that, many of your criticisms don't apply in practise...
* Dropping rocks I forgot about (having never used it) and Uryens did not know about BUT he would NOT have wasted it on a unit of 10 Zombie handgunners who were killing themselves quicker than the foe. Then he was overun (simply an unexpectedly bad die roll) when the rats charged. So no unit to drop rocks left!
* We didn't think of the Salamanders being skirmishers - BUT the Zombie handgunners have a wierd 'ALWAYS hit in a 6' rule (no DMs apply) and the only other thing that shot at them were the carronades which are cannons. So the -1 to hit DM did not apply at all.
* When he accepted the charge I think he was hoping that he might get lucky and stop them hitting the massed unit with his general in behind before he was ready to get his boars in a position to flank attack. It was a trick which happened to work! The skirmishers subsequently got away anyway. As for the boars, see my comments above.
I've not given anything away re: future turns. But do keep in mind, the Luthor Harkon Vampire Fleet Zombie Pirates list is atrociously weak. I mean really, really weak. No magic. No summoning. Strike last. Zombie stats. No Horse. No armour. Restricted marching. An unstable general. And rubbish everything else. Wait 'til you see what the jungle swarms do to the two regiments of 25 zombies!
I am not 100 % sure on this but I think in the 7th edition lizards you can always drop rocks...each turn. So no more saving those precious jewels for a certain turn.
The -1 hit is great but hiding artillery salamanders in cover also grants you some protection against charges as your opponent has to double the distance for each inch inside terrain placing them 2 " in terrain reduces the range of enemies effectively by another 2" also flyers can´t attack them with flying movement. I often hide my cannons in terrain so no tzeentch heroes, bats, flying monkey of the witch of Oz will get them.
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Again interesting points. But ...
Terradons drop rocks once per game even in this edition.
Hiding the carronades wouldn't have worked in this game even if there had been trees to hide them in 'cos the Terradons are arboreal and can land in trees (unlike other flyers).
As for hiding his salamanders - there was nothing threatening them with the possibility of a charge except for the rats, and Uryens thought he could outrun them if necessary (and should have done statistically) thus drawing them away from other units. The razortooth rats are skirmishers and so would not have been slowed by difficult ground anyway.
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Ah! The experience of the infamous Watersnake hunt strikes again! :icon_biggrin:
Ya got to love the names of the pygmy leaders, too. :icon_cool:
It's early, but I'm cheering for the pygmies. :::cheers:::
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#The skirmishers accepted the charge because to avoid being autokilled I would need to roll 12 on the evade dice (The Pirate King and his hulks having a 12" charge and only being an inch away)
Best take the charge and hope to do some damage, rather than be sure you'll just get slaughtered.
#Dropping rocks, I thought it was once a game (it isnt flyby attack which always happens and you can zig-zag about) - I just forgot the rats were skirmishers, and then rolled poorly on my evade. (Interestingly I always prefer to stand than to evade ususally because of just that kind of thing awlays happening to me)
#Salamanders might be skirmihers and fire shooters, they are also pretty damn tough in the fight. Plus they had nothing agaisnt them causing problems.
#The boar riders werent in combat where they were at this point in the scrap, but they were one of the first units I placed, and so served their purpose in makeing sure Padre put his strength elsewhere (perhaps, perhaps he just ignored them)
#As for the rest of my plan, I do have one, honest ;)
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Than I was cheated last tournament! :Ohmy: nasty lizard player droping rocks on me like some pigeons crapping on statues. Well the dice gods punished him as his slann managed to panic into my knights after my cannon killed his skink chief stegadon beside him with one shot. :biggriin:
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Great report Padre!
I'm completely unfamiliar with the new lizards and I used to get quite lucky with the zombie pirates before everyone figured out their weaknesses.
Sooo... I vote pygmies.
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Battle of the Swamps Part Four- Turns 3, 4 & 5
Now the second swarm of jungle creepy-crawlies hurtled into the leftmost Zombie regiment, where things began to get messy. Between them the two swarms brought down 7 zombie pirates, while the undead only managed to kill one tiny spider (and in truth the zombie did it by falling on it). The swarms were not just holding their own: they were slowly but surely tearing the zombies apart.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp15.jpg)
Goakitlan managed to rally the fleeing Pygmy Skirmishers so that they now took up position on the left of the large Pygmy Braves regiment led by Bontanoan and Chief Atta-Ooga. Off to their right the Pygmies riding Dwarf-Boars attempted to manoeuvre themselves to lend support.
Finally Bontanoan, Goakitlan and the Pygmy shaman had some luck with their magic and two of the Scurvy Dogs were fried by lightning. This success might have emboldened Bontanoan to take a risk, for he tried to force the spell ‘Bear’s Anger’ to take hold on himself, but the winds of magic remained unreliable in the presence of the blue skinned enemy commander and he ended up hurting himself as he fumbled the spell. Goakitlan winced, for he too felt his spawn brother’s pain.
The Salamanders were now close enough to send blasts of liquid fire over several foes, and chose this time not to aim at the carronades. They hurt not only the rat swarms in front of them, but also the Zombie Handgunners and the Scurvy Dogs. The Razortooth Rats seemed to be spurred into further action by this singeing fire, and charged into the Pygmy Skirmishers on Bontanoan’s army’s right, which made the Pygmy Shaman amongst them fair dance with fury. Of course the blowpipe armed Pygmies attempted a countershot against the swarms (Game note: 34 shots - causing only 2 wounds!)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp16.jpg)
Grand Admiral Galdabash led his Hulks in a charge against Bontanoan and the Pygmy Braves, with his Undead Wyvern joining in the charge. Somehow the Pygmies and their living god found the nerve to stand against this. The little warriors fell in droves against this onslaught, Galdabash tearing their champion in two and splashing his blood all around. Only one Hulk fell during this brutal affray, and the Braves (failing to live up to their name) fled away in despair, their little legs carrying them just faster than the Rotting Undead Wyvern. Galdabash also attempted to pursue, but such was the width of his unit that he ended up crashing into the recently rallied Skirmishers and Goakitlan (again)!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp17.jpg)
One Carronade, fighting fire with fire, finally brought down a Salamander, but in the centre of the field Galdabash’s force was not doing well. Once again zombie after zombie was overwhelmed by the jungle swarms, their undead brains entirely unable to contend with the skittering speed of the jungle critters. Yet the swarm of Razortooth Rats could not emulate the enemy swarms’ success, and found themselves being stomped on and crushed by the Pygmies’ nimble feet.
Bontanoan shrieked another of his shockingly high pitched cries and thus willed his warriors to rally. Closer to the centre the Dwarf Boar Riders shuffled about a bit once more, still uncertain of where and how to deliver their attack. As they wondered what it was their living god would want them to do, suddenly Bontanoan himself, still reeling from the after effects of his miscast and trying to re-cast the same spell, somehow messed it up a second time! The resulting wave of undirected magical force washed through his skin to his heart and liver, then gushed outwards in explosive force to tear all life from his frame.
The living god was … well, no longer living!
His spawn brother Goakitlan screeched in despair, a sound entirely different to Bontanoan’s rallying cry of a moment or two before. Distracted, he failed to parry a blow from the shambling undead Hulks in front of him and his blood was also spilled - though he was still (for now) alive. When nigh upon a dozen Pygmy Skirmishers fell to the Vampire Fleet Admiral’s rage and the might of his Hulks, Goakitlan’s wits fled from him. Wounded, bereft of his brother, he joined his skirmishers in flight and when this time they could not escape, he was cut down.
Now the Pygmy Braves found themselves fighting the blue vampire once more, though to be honest they barely noticed, trying to take in the impossible fact that their god had just burst and died right amongst them!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp19.jpg)
The poor Braves had no chance at all and ten died. They too fled, only to be chased by the crazed Galdabash and his monstrous bodyguards.
The Salamanders, who did not even know they were being led by a god, returned themselves to the artillery duel and laid low one of the carronades’ crew with fire…
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp18.jpg)
… while more and more Zombies collapsed in the fight against the swarms.
The Undead Wyvern joined Galdabash (probably unnecessarily) in the fight against the Pygmy regiment, while over on the other side of the battlefield the Scurvy Dogs threw themselves at the Skirmishers currently fighting the rats. As both Carronades drew blood from the Salamanders (Game Note: Very frustrating - 1 and 2 wounds respectively, from D3 wounds weapons, thus killing neither of the 3 wound creatures!), the Pygmy Skirmishers proved their worth and by killing enough Dogs and Rats they so weakened the curse holding the undead together that the remaining foes collapsed too!
At that moment a Bloated Corpse finally got to the Dwarf-boar Riders. Of course they dispatched the shambling bag of bandages easily, but found out to their cost the danger of doing so. It burst, releasing noisome odours so strong that they killed two of the Pygmies.
By now there were hardly any Zombies left from the two regiments in the centre …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp20.jpg)
… so the Pygmy Dwarf-Boar Riders turned to face the other regiment that had come around the flank.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp22.jpg)
The Zombies, however, were still too far away for them to charge, and had stopped moving forwards themselves. Some part of their fragmented minds knew that to get any closer to the Boar Riders would have been a pointless sacrifice. So they stood, motionless, staring with empty (sometimes quite literally so) eyes at the riders.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp23.jpg)
The Skirmishers on the far right of the Pygmies’ line moved towards the centre a little, felling two Zombie Handgunners with their blowpipes, while the Salamanders advanced and breathed enough fire to kill the remaining two Zombie crewmen on the Carronade they had targeted before. Only one working Carronade now remained.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp21.jpg)
While Galdabash chased off the last of the Pygmy Braves, the last Carronade tried its luck once more. Apparently, it had none left, for it blew up. A split second later a lesser explosion heralded the rather smaller fracturing of the barrel of a Zombie Handgunner’s piece, and its wielder was also destroyed.
**
Without Bontanoan or Goakitlan to lead them, the Pygmies now began to back off in confusion. Few believed the gods were actually dead, though they could plainly see both had left the vessels they had employed for their earthly manifestation. Whatever the theological truth, the will to fight had gone. They wanted to get away, return to their land, and discover if the third god, Ta-Dino-Po, had also died. If so, then they would have some real worrying to do.
By the time Grand Admiral Galdabash returned to the field the enemy had melted away into the jungle and swamps, and he decided that this meant it was a victory. For the briefest of moments he felt satisfaction, until it occurred to him that he had gained nothing from this battle, but had only been made weaker. He was now less able to fight the Pirates on the river.
Yet even if he was weaker, he had to fight them now. For only by killing them could he replenish his ranks, repair his forces with zombie pirates, and begin once more his search for the fabled city of gold.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Swamp24.jpg)
Result:
1572 VP (Pygmies) to 1405 (Zombies) so a winning draw to the Pygmies.
Game notes:
The story reads like it was a win to Galdabash, but points wise it was actually a draw in the Pygmies’ favour. The game actually ended in turn 5 (at the point marked **), for the reason that nothing would happen in turn 6: there was no-one who could or would charge, no-one who could shoot, and no magic wielders left. The Dwarf-Boar riding pygmies could advance towards the zombies, but I was never going to charge them in turn 6 as it would have been throwing away points. Interestingly I don’t think I can remember a game where with so much left on the field nothing could happen to change things in the last turn. Not one VP would have changed!
(Oh, except the last zombie handgunner could have died, giving + 35 VP to Uryens.)
Yet, and I hope Uryens will back me up on this - in terms of the story, it was perhaps more of a win to Galdabash. He still lives, and commands the core of an army. Let’s face it, many of his undead will eventually get up again to fight for him once more! The Pygmies, on the other hand, have lost two of their living gods! Now that has to mean something.
Then again, the Pygmies now know what they are dealing with, and Tadinopo still lives to gather the other tribes. Next time they will have ‘Gorrilagors’ and a Stegadon to bolster their fighting strength. Next time they could sweep the foe off the board!
NB: Like with other campaign games using my figures on both sides, I showed both army lists to Uryens first and described them in full so that he could choose which one he would play. I believe one cannot do fairer than that with such story-influenced (and not remotely tournament style) army lists.
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Woot! Great story and presentation as always.
I do think that counting characters that are eliminated in the game as killed is a bit too bloody. They are heroic figures after all!
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I had terrible luck with magic (I always seem to) and not being used to swarms I was surprised how well they held up the Zombies, being jungle swarms those poisoned attacks are what told really.
Next time I will be more confident of letting them do their job and getting the boar riders into combat.
And I wont forget that swarm have 360 charge arc!
Overall though, yes, it felt like a win to Galdabash (since my (very expensive) general was killed)
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But well he was killed by himself, that has to count for something.
:::cheers:::
great report and thanks a lot for sharing.
Those undead pirates suck real bad but they have style.
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I do think that counting characters that are eliminated in the game as killed is a bit too bloody. They are heroic figures after all!
I would agree with you wholly if this were a story-campaign played in a strategically competitive manner by friends (like previous ones I've done). We had (like I think you suggested before) wound charts and only had Ok'd characters definitely die. But althought the games are full on games between two players both doing the best they can, the campaign otherwise is more story than campaign. For a start I am writing all sides, though I sometimes GM the battles. The story is a way to find a use for and provide a background to, some of my less used armies.
@ Fandir: They do suck, but Uryens gave me some advice on how to re-jig their composition, and next time I will have two ('new?') rotting Leviathans in the rare slot. The large swarm of rats will go 'cos everyone now knows it's rubbish.
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I dont think the swarms are rubbish, just that compared to 6th ed they are and more importantly they are hugely overpriced
The cutting edge the jungle swarms had was being poisonous.
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What Uryens just said.
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I dont think the swarms are rubbish, just that compared to 6th ed they are and more importantly they are hugely overpriced
The cutting edge the jungle swarms had was being poisonous.
And they were fighting Zombies, which are worse in combat than Gnoblars! :icon_wink:
Great job so far Padre, you've set the bar pretty high with your previous reports, but you always deliver a great read.
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Actually, we were using older rules for zombies, so they werent too terrible in combat
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But they were braindead....so always strike last.
Zombies had their peak with the Sylvania list, I mean Zombies with Halberds so S 4 it won´t get any better than that.
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True, that +1 strength trumps everything doesnt it ;)
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Yes it made them mucho awesome sauce. :biggriin: :::cheers:::
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Braindead is the thing that makes them rubbish - though interestingly the Zokbie Pirates of the Luthor Harkon list are WS3 which was better than old zombies.
We used old VC rules 'cos the Harkon list was made with them in mind - I may move onto the new VC rules next time. No braindead might make a tiny bit of a difference.
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Zokbie?
I dont know what it is, but it sounds dangerous...
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Actually I liked a Zombie Pirate gunnery mob with a brace of pistols in 6th. 2 ST 4 attacks in the first round at WS 3, but Braindead for the whole army pretty much sucks.
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Oops - I have the WD list here and I have NEVER noticed that option. Double oops! Brace of pistols for +1 pt. Wow!
They'll still have the Zombie Pirates' Blackpowder rule - hit always on 6 (no DMs, thus no multiple shot DM) and always cause hit on themselves on a 1. So yeah, a bit more effective against the enemy BUT only at closer range, at not greater Str, and double the self caused damage. So they hurt the enemy only when it's close and kill themselves off twice as fast.
Hmm, in balance I ain't so sure ...
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I'd like to see a large unit of them take a stand and shoot against a large target, however. A unit of 25 that hits on 6's and has two shots each. Hmm...
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It would be very funny to see both units die at the same time.
The zombie handgunners were fun but utterly irellavent since each time they shot, half of them died.
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I may have misinterpreted 6th edition rules, but the way I read them a brace of pistols gave +1 St 4 armor piercing attack in the first round of melee and counted as an extra hand weapon in subsequent rounds.
I rarely shot with the mob, (although it was entertaining to do so) instead I would charge tough opponents.
:)
But enough of that what happens next and when does it happen?
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I'd like to see a large unit of them take a stand and shoot against a large target, however. A unit of 25 that hits on 6's and has two shots each. Hmm...
Ah, 'twould be delightful, and we can dream but ... undead can't stand and shoot as a charge reaction.
I don't know if you guys are really getting just how 'duff' this army is.
@ Von Kurst: Hopefully something pretty soon, 'cos after the next few weeks everything goes work-tastically crazy for me!! Which is not a bad thing, considering I'm self-employed and need some cash asap. Or then again, maybe I'll game as a break during the busy period, a well earned past-time that'll not engender guilt about the fact that I'm not writing my book (my attempt at a second 'job').
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Padre, if you don't mind me saying, If this forum is anything to go by, that book will be freaking awesome.
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Very kind of you, Inarticulate, to say so, and your comment gives me a massive confidence boost.
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I know what its based on (sort of) and I think its gonna be superb personally.
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I agree that I personally would love a padre book as his stories in the imperial office are fantastic already and I think they are only a small byblow of his real skill.
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Much Needed Reinforcements
Grand Admiral Galdabash was not happy. Of course, he could never be said to be happy, but he was even further from that state of mind than normal - which was a considerable distance. His favourite cannon, the mighty Queen Bess, had been destroyed, allowing the Pirates of Tabriz to begin their journey up the river towards the realm in which the fabled City of Gold lay. The city he wanted to take for himself. And now his army had been badly mauled by jungle tribes. He knew that what had been sent against him may well be little more than a vanguard, and that it was highly likely the jungle had much more mighty enemies yet to throw at him. He knew also that the Tabrizians’ greed would keep them searching and fighting almost to the last, for such was their hunger for gold that it overrode all other concerns. And so he was surrounded by enemies, with a force not fit to fight them.
His strength was sapped, and if he was to reinforce the rotting ranks of his army to make it fit to fight then he would have to fight the Tabrizians! A dilemma indeed. To make his army strong he needed to fight; but to fight, he needed a strong army.
Yet the answer did come to him: he felt the presence, deep in the swamp waters surrounding him, of the corpses of ancient creatures preserved through the millennia by the foul waters and mud in which they lay. He would call up some of these, the biggest he could find, and reinforce his dwindling army with monsters.
Thus it was that he and several of his captains and seamen spent four days wading through the most noisome swamps searching. Finally, he signalled his undead warriors to halt, closed his eyes and let out a hissing call like a death rattle but growing ever louder, imbued with his mighty will. Two giant creatures, so ancient that they had lived in the time before the Old Ones came to the world and now entirely extinct, heard this call. Crustacean in form, they had once dwelt upon the shores of the great ocean (which did indeed, long ago, wash up to this very point).
Bubbles began to bulge up from the depths, bursting to release a foul stench, and heralding the slow rise of the long dead monsters. When they came, their armoured backs broke the surface first, then a mass of thrashing limbs appeared, bearing barbed claws and writhing tentacles.
Galdabash looked upon them and decided that they 'would do'.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic9a.jpg)
Water poured from them, for inside their exoskeleton were cavities where once their organs had been. Those spongy organs had completely rotted away, and as the water now leaked out they became much lighter than they had been in life - now able to scuttle across the swamp surface. Long tusk-like claws protruded from their front-most limbs, and viciously sharp pincers flexed and snapped together beneath the bumpy bulk of their pre-historic heads. Tentacles hung on their flanks, some twitching, others flailing, and huge, many jointed tails bore curved horns and topped with armoured plates, similar to those on the top and sides of their whole bodies.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic9b.jpg)
No eyes were visible, for they had never even in life sported such appendages, instead were lumps, sinews and hairs, the flaccid remains of what had once been their sense organs.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic9c.jpg)
Now Galdabash turned and began the journey back to where most of his army lay unmoving and awaiting his command. The two creatures slithered along the surface of the swamp behind him.
Game Note: These are my new ‘Rotting Leviathans’ - two rare slots, at 200 points each. I WILL, by hook or by crook, turn this army into a functioning and tactical force. I don’t know if this is the answer, but it was a good excuse to finally paint two undercoated oddities I made way back in 1984 for a WFRP adventure.
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Aren't those just the loveliest looking creatures one ever saw? :icon_wink: :icon_lol:
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Wow those beasts are pretty ugly.
(And they're also over half a decade older than me!)
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(And they're also over half a decade older than me!)
Ah, 1984, such a good year... :engel:
Coincidentally, I was born on the 2nd of january of the same year. :wink:
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That was about when I discovered roleplaying and wargaming heh.
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It's when I discovered girls were somewhat useful....
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And I had my first wedding anniversary... Padre write something already! :)
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Yes, people keep getting older in this thread! Padre post something quick! :-D
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I discovered chess in ... if I recall correctly, 68 or 69.
Board wargames ... probably 69, 70, or 71.
Military miniatures ... soon after board wargames.
RPGs ... maybe 78, or perhaps 79.
Girls ... same year as chess.
Wedding ... none yet. :icon_lol:
Born ... not saying. :icon_wink:
Padre ... look what we are doing for entertainment while we wait for your next WFB story.
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I have bowed to your wishes and made haste with this next installment. I now need to arrange another battle. I'll not say who is involved, instead I'll let this little story do the talking ...
Southlands, Western Hills of the Worlds Edge Mountains
The tribesmen had easily accepted Gamouzo’s nephew, the warrior Agbeyama, as their new chief. He was the natural heir being of noble blood himself, and he was every much as ferocious as his uncle had been (even if still a little young). The last few days had allowed him to establish himself properly as someone whose orders were to be obeyed, and without question. Even Edem, the one warrior amongst them who Gamouzo had been willing to take advice from, appeared to have fallen into line.
The process had been helped by the fact that the Tassingbe warriors had been operating as scouts, independently of Prince Sadrin’s army, going several miles ahead each day and then returning to report each evening. Even at night they camped separately from the army, one of a handful of small units that formed a protective ring of watchful guard-camps around the main camp. So, apart from an hour or so in the main camp each evening, when Arabyan commanders were all about them, Agbeyama was left to command the Tassingbe alone, with no-one else telling him what to do.
Right now they were (by Agbeyama’s reckoning)about as far ahead of the army as they had yet been, having made good progress all morning. They had also moved much higher up the hills than previously too, following a track that split off from the ancient road. It was a path far more than a goat trail for it was surfaced here and there with stones, and had large flat sheets of stone lying over the umpteen rocky streams trickling down the hills. Agbeyama wanted to ascertain whether it could provide an alternative route south for the army, perhaps one more hidden from prying (goblin) eyes? He also wanted to learn if any enemies lurked in this hills.
Nine warriors remained with him, for he had sent two of his best further ahead to scout much more quietly and secretly than all twelve could ever do. Some of the nine carried their traditional dull bronze shields, deliberately allowed to tarnish so that they would not glint in the sun or moonlight, and all were armed with the Tassingbe’s unique club-like weapon, the ‘otnebrie’, an unusual weapon that could be used in one of several ways according to how it was held and how it was unfolded.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic10a.jpg)
They moved sometimes fast and sometimes slow, according to the ground they were traversing: running nimbly if there was little cover, and always towards better cover; but when among trees they moved much more carefully, ensuring that they did not carelessly reveal themselves. They were meant to be the spies, and their business was to discover enemies, not to reveal the presence of the Prince of Amon’s army to them.
As they crested one little hill, however, they learned that one of their forward scouts had not been so careful.
Bollgrid had seen such men as these at the edges of the great forest, but there was something odd about this one. For a start he was one his own, and had apparently been spying on them. Why would a tribal man be creeping about in the Dwarfen hills? Secondly there were the silver coins of Arabyan origin they had found upon him in a velvet purse. Since when did tribesmen carry small change in purses? Finally there was his dress. It was unlike any he had ever seen on tribesmen in this part of the world. He was from a long way from home.
The man would not talk, even when Bollgrid aimed his pistol squarely at him.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic10b.jpg)
“Has he got a tongue?” asked little Habrodar, doing his usual hopping about from foot to foot. “They cut themselves those sort of men: scar themselves with patterns, pierce their ears, and wear bones through their flesh. That’s what I heard. Maybe he’s cut his tongue?”
“He can speak,” said Old Mathy. “I heard him curse in the desert tongue when he saw my hammer over him.”
Bollgrid cocked his head to one side, but kept the pistol aimed right at the fellow. “He spoke like the desert men, did he? Then maybe he’s one of their slaves.”
Old Mathy shook his head. “He’s too proud to be a slave. Just look at him.”
The tribesman towered above the Dwarfs, with a stern expression fixed on his face. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t that scared either.
“Maybe he knows something we don’t know?” suggested little Habrodar.
“Like what?” asked Bollgrid, narrowing his eyes beneath his bushy white eyebrows, and pushing back his morion helmet back a little. “What is it you know?”
Suddenly Habrodar stopped fidgeting. When the others followed his gaze they saw that they were being watched from the hill.
“Now I get it,” said Bollgrid. “You have friends with you.”
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabrizPic10c.jpg)
The Tassingbe warriors knew it was too late to hide. Besides, it looked to them that if they did not act soon, then one of their number was going to be killed. They counted four of the mountain dwarfs and a pony - surely not enough to cause them much trouble? But Agbeyama signalled them to stand for the moment, as he weighed up the situation. He knew little about such men, having seen only two of their kind once in the city of Amon, merchants from the cold northern lands. And even if he had learned about those two, which he had not, then who was to say that these mountain dwarfs where anything like their distant cousins? One thing he did know - his own warriors. It was Edem they had captured, and he was fearless, bold and quick in battle. It was highly likely that any moment now …
Yes! Agbeyama saw it, Edem flashed a look their way, and before Agbeyama could even order the charge, Edem’s hand lashed out to strike the pistol. The shot rang out all around the valley, frightening the birds so that several trees erupted with fluttering and squawking. Edem had not been quick enough - either that or the Dwarf had somehow known what he intended before he tried it. The Tassingbe warriors watched as his body fell heavily backwards through the red mist of his blood.
The dwarf began fiddling with his pistol, but before he could even open the pan to pour in some powder, the Tassingbe were already pelting down the hill, each one having dropped their shields so that they could run a little faster.
That evening.
Prince Sadrin could not believe his eyes. When the bundle had been brought to him he thought it must contain the head of an orc, though he could not understand why it was being shown to him. When his servant unwrapped it, however, he did not even need to see the flesh to know it was no orc. A mass of white beard hair, spattered with blood, appeared, then the face. It was a dwarf.
It seemed that there were still dwarfs in these parts, perhaps still dwelling in the almost mythical hold of Karak Zorn? And his scouts had killed some of them.
Sadrin’s face drained of colour, his eyes widening. He looked at the tribesman Agbeyama, the new commander of his irregular scouts. “By the gods, what have you done?”
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I love the new forum format but I miss the end of many posts due to that blue bar. Is it my computer or what? (But I can view the whole post if I reply to it, hmmm.)
Anyway thanks Padre, another unlooked for twist! Woot!
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Padre, I am following this thread with great interest! Great story telling and I feel wholly immersed in your elaborate background. The different parties all have a very unique feel and story. Love those Arabians.
Much appreciated that you create these gems for us, I am eagerly awaiting the continuation!
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I have to admit I am ever so slightly distracted by the run up to A4 - for which I am painting new regiments and writing fluff stories (in the same format as All That Glistens) but I wholly intend to return to this project once I come out of the other side of A4 (or some little bits sooner?).
I will put all the A4 stuff together as a thread here once I have enough to make a decent start - so there will be another thread like this to read appearing very soon.
Question for GMs - if I came back to All that Glistens in December, would that be called 'threadomancy'?
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I don't think it qualifies as threadomancy in its your thread and you're coming back to it with something constructive.
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Indeed
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At last ‘All That Glistens’ returns. After having been distracted for months first by the A4 (see ‘Joshua’s Journey’ in the Imperial Office) then by Xmas and then by the conversion and painting project I have just finished, I am now able to continue the story.
Uryens is gonna provide a Dwarfen army to represent the host of Karak Zorn in a battle against the arabs (which has ‘simply’ to be arranged) but for now let’s take a look at what’s going on in the vast green heart of the Southlands …
Deep Jungle, the Southlands
Outwardly, Tadinopo merely blinked. But inside, in his mind, a hard and shocking realisation had come to him - his spawn brothers were dead. He did not know the circumstances, where or how, for his mental connection with them had not matured to that level. He knew only that they no longer breathed, that their spirits had been wrenched from their mortal frames and cast into the realm upon the other side of the sky.
He had been running for three days now, stopping only whenever he reached a tribal settlement, and never for longer than a score of breaths. His presence alone, witnessed by the warriors, was enough. They knew they were summoned and they would obey. That morning he had visited the last of the tribes along this side of the river, and the army he planned was almost complete. The To-otinaks would bring their Salamanders, the Inni-ano their Gorillagors and dwarf boars, and the Putoo would ride their great Stegadon. There were no more warm-blood tribesmen he could summon, not here anyway - it was not pygmies he searched for but something else. He wanted the most ferocious warriors the Jungle had to offer, warm-bloods but not pygmy tribesmen. Warriors so mighty and ferocious that they were almost beasts, and only took up weapons and shields once a generation.
There was a scent upon the breeze and the sudden sense that eyes were upon him. He froze, going from frantic motion to statue-like stillness almost instantly, and the merest moment later any observing him would think him surely incapable of motion.
He had found them.
Care was needed, for these warriors did not think of him and his brothers as gods. They revered only his father. Their ancestors had guarded his father, escorted him in battle. And so would they, for this is what Tadinopo intended. He could think of no better way to rouse his father into action than to send his royal guard to fetch him.
Then one of the warriors appeared, bounding out of the canopy and raising his arms in threat. Tadinopo was surprised to see that each hand clutched a heavy flint weapon, counterweighted by a huge knob of wood. Perhaps the warriors already knew, somehow, that Father was threatened? Perhaps they could sense the presence of enemies in the jungle?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/gorillas4.jpg)
The warrior roared and Tadinopo could feel the warmth of his breath even from a distance of eight strides. Although still completely motionless, the larval slann’s mind was racing. He did not speak the warriors’ language and they could not comprehend his. There was only one word he could think of that they would recognise - his father’s name. He cocked his head to one side, a slight motion but one that silenced the warrior, and spoke the name.
“Doh-Oda-Toh”
In what appeared to be an attempt to mimic Tadinopo’s motion, the warrior also leaned his huge head to one side. Then he straightened, thrust his chin forwards and opened his mouth wide, baring huge white teeth and letting loose a loud roar. Within a dozen breaths warriors were pouring from the jungle.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/gorillas1.jpg)
Tadinopo had done enough and without waiting to count them, skittered away.
Game Notes:
I have finally finished my Gorillas, which took me years of searching to find. I got them from Black tree in the end (don't know how I missed them before). They will form the Temple Guard for the Slann General, so that the army has both ‘counts as’ Saurus Warriors (my Pygmy boar riders) and ‘counts as’ Temple Guard (these gorillas). Woo hoo! Just need to get myself a Slann, and that’s being arranged (all bar the haggling!).
Here’s what they look like regimented up.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/gorillas5.jpg)
Simple, I know, but the time was taken up with the conversions (22 times over, weapons plus shields). The figures came as wild gorillas, so I either drilled holed in their hands and stuffed homemade stone-tipped weapons in them, or I cut human hands carrying swords off a sprue and converted the sword into a wooden stick with sharp bits on (teeth or stone), then plugged them into a hole drilled at the gorilla's cut wrist. An example ...
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Gorilla1.jpg)
I also found a great way to glue plastic to metal, illustrated here (although I’m sure some of you already knew this) ...
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/GorillasConstruction.jpg)
Drill a hole in the figure, push a plastic rod in and clasp hard with pliers so it’s well and truly stuck in. Trim the end and then use that little area of plastic to attach the shield with a blob of glue. The trick is to really make sure that you’ve forced the plastic rod in so that it’s well and truly going nowhere.
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Those Gorillas are awesome!
And they could also make an appearance in a Monkey Kings of Ind army...
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Great work Padre! :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool: :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
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Woot! Padre's back! Good to see this pick back up again. MORE! MORE!
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Good to see this continue, Padre. Looking forward to it!
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Okay, so I just looked at this thread for the first time.
Where's that smiley that has its jaw dropping and dropping and dropping? 'cos I need it. :icon_eek: This one just doesn't cut the mustard.
Wow.
I honestly don't know whether to call you 'a legend of a wargamer,' 'a proper old-school wargamer,' 'the kinda wargamer I wish I was,' or simply set up a shrine and worship you as the God of Wargaming.
A
May
Zing
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Thanks guys for your support and encouragement. I am wholly on board with this project but ... currently struggling to get opponents for the battles. The guys I know I can get like to play their own armies and rarely want to do one of my'weird' games (though when they do they get to choose which army to command). And other possibilities, like Uryens for example, are just too busy. He is up for commanding a dwarf army (he has his own figures for that) in a squabble against the arabyans, but, that battle has been delayed some while. Also I may be close to finally getting a (cheaper than new from GW) Slann to command the army of the city of Gold, but even then I'm gonna have to model and paint him!
I am reluctant to continue the story until I get a battle in, so am instead just painting away and dreaming of future games. Until the battles are fought it's not really possible to move things on - they're what give the project its momentum.
See this as a lull between series as the studio faces problems with its cast! Or something.
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:icon_lol: Let's just hope the actors don't form a union and start asking for pay. :icon_wink:
Don't worry Padre, your efforts are well worth the wait. :icon_cool:
Too bad I don't live in England or that you don't live over here in New England. :::cheers:::
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Padre, where do you live? I'll sling some models around a table with you.
I'm in York, by the way.
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Katzbalger, now that's an idea. I shall PM you.
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See ... that's why W-E is so freaking cool!
Padre puts up he can't find someone to work on his story battles with, currently, and he gets a taker! :::cheers::: :::cheers:::
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The Hills Have Dwarfs
Introduction
For three days Prince Sadrin had pushed his army hard. His soldiers marched during every hour of daylight, and then a little more. Sadrin knew that dwarfs might have legs somewhat shorter than he and his men, but that nevertheless their incredible stamina was said to allow them to move rapidly for they needed little rest (if any at all).
The Dwarfs of Karak Zorn were almost certainly after him! His Tassingbe warrior scouts had surely not only offended them, but enraged them and fanned a burning desire for vengeance in their hearts. Four dwarfs had been killed upon the foothills, no doubt substantially more would be mustering to balance the wrong.
Now the Prince still had a substantial force, but he could not afford to lose any more men. He had a jungle to penetrate, a city of gold to find, perhaps even a garrison of some kind to defeat. Already his supplies had been robbed by fast-moving greenskin raiders upon wolves and boars, and although his fighting strength was not yet critically diminished, many slaves had succumbed to starvation. Not that their deaths concerned him, rather it was the thought that next it would be his brave soldiers who suffered.
Engaging in battle with irate dwarfs was the last thing he needed!
The Prince’s Army:
Prince Sadrin al Marwan - General; Warhorse; Sword of Justice; Dawn Armor; Holy Relic
Agha Idrahil - Shield; Sword of Battle; Armor of Meteoric Iron
Wizard Zadra ibn Borhasa - Lev’ 2; Rod of Power; Sigil of Sigmar
Wizard Mukri al-Hajib - Lev’ 2; Talisman of Protection; Silver Horn
10 Camel Cavalry, full command [Dogs of War Heavy Cav’] with War Banner
10 Light Cavalry, full command [Dogs of War Light Cav’]
25 Spears of the Desert, full command
25 Spears of the Middle Palace, full command + Crossbowmen detachment
25 Royal Guard Swordsmen, full command
9 Handgunners with Marskman
12 Slave Archers with Marksman (numbers depleted from starvation)
1 Great Cannon
1 Mortar
War Elephant (Stegadon minus bow)
Total Points: 2236
Got Ya!
Despite their efforts, the arabyans of Amon proved too slow, for the dwarfs came just as they feared. Perhaps being denizens of this hilly region the Dwarfs knew how and where to travel swiftly? Or perhaps the Arabyans should sensibly have discarded their artillery pieces? Certainly the dwarfs had not brought anything to slow them down - the only machines they had were light Bolt Throwers and a Gyrocopter, no cannons or mortars or other such burdensome engines.
The Army of Karak Zorn
Dwarf Lord, General - Gromril armour; Oath Stone; Runes: Snorri Spangelhelm, Gromril, Spite
Thane, Battle Standard Bearer - Gromril armour, Runic Standard (Determination & Sanctuary)
Master Engineer - Handgun, Pistols, Gromril armour & Rune of Luck
Dragon Slayer - two Runes of Fury
10 Slayers, full command
22 Hammerers, full command
22 Dwarf warriors, full command, Heavy Armour; Shield
22 Dwarf warriors, full command, Heavy Armour, Great Weapon
20 Quarellers, full command
10 Thunderers + Musician
3 Bolt Throwers (one with Penetrating, another with Skewering)
Gyrocopter
Total Points: 2235
The Field of Battle
The two armies would clash in the lowest and outermost of the foothills, where clumps of jungle trees were scattered as if motley groups of outcasts meandering away from their homeland, forlorn and lost.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic1.jpg)
The Dwarfs arrayed themselves with their bolt throwers upon their flanks, with their four fighting regiments at the foot of a hill occupied by the Thunderers. The Quarellers stood left of centre, while the Gyrocopter hovered in the rear awaiting a chance to contribute something of worth.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic2a.jpg)
Prince Sadrin himself rode with his camelry upon the far left of his line. His agha Idrahil led the swordsmen to the Prince’s right, while the two spear regiments stood next in line. The wizards had both joined the crossbow detachment, and to their right, at the heart of the Arabyan line, stood the mortar and the cannon. (Already one cannon had been abandoned due to the damage done to it when the Greenskins attacked.).
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic3.jpg)
On the Arabyan right the handgunners were flanked by the hulking mass of the war elephant, with the skirmishing slave archers (their numbers depleted due to the more severe rationing they had endured) and the light horse beyond them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic4.jpg)
Next part to follow soon.
So …. What’ya think? Who’s gonna win this one? You know armies, terrain and deployment. If you want to know more, then all I can say is that my friend ‘J’ chose to command the Arabyans and so I became a Dwarf for the afternoon.
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That elphant looks awesome coming through the jungle terrain! :icon_biggrin: :icon_cool:
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My vote is for the Arabyans. Cannons FTW!
Plus, it would make your story more dull if they all died before getting to the city of gold!
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Hooray! Good to see some more battles brewing. I like the cannon and the mortar on the Arabyan side, but the stunties have those pesky bolt throwers, no reason to move and a good field of fire.
Plus the Arabyan deployment seems tentative. A bad day for Arabyans. Stunties win.
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Go Team Dwarf!
Make those treacherous manlings pay!
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If those bolt throwers all aim for the that center unit of crossbows and spears, there might be some serious damage done there. Although its interesting to see that the araby cavalry on their left flank are currently hidden behind that one hill where those two closer bolt throwers can't see them at the moment. And all the dwarf crossbows are out of range on the other side.
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True but they can't win and stay behind the hill. Once they pass it they are in range of the dwarf handguns and the bolt throwers. The dwarf crossbows can shoot up the elephant, or the Arabyan crossbows, or the light cavalry...
Also being out on the flank the heavy's closest target is the bolt throwers which is not a good point swap.
Light cavalry question--why 10 in a unit? They don't get ranks nor can they fire in 2 ranks unless the target is on a hill... I run them in 2 5 man units with only a musician or champion. They can still hunt war machines or whatever but I get all 10 shots all the time... Until they die.
I don't see the unit of Arabyan handgunners?
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Yep, and since the heavy cav are going against dwarves, its not likely they'll come running into the charge range. I'm wondering if the heavy cav can take out the bolt throwers, and then flank the dwarves. The thunderers might have to move losing a turn firing. However, there is something to be said for placing the light cav to take out the bolt throwers and maybe have the heavy cav take out the crossbows, putting them closer to hitting something in the center as well.
The abraby handgunners are just on the other side of the cannons, I'm seeing the edge of them correctly.
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The Battle Commences
[Turns 1 & 2]
Upon the Dwarfs’ left the crossbowmen, facing light cavalry, slave archers, handgunners and much worse, an elephant, knew they must waste no time and see if they could even the odds somewhat. The shot at what had to be the easiest target, the lumbering grey behemoth, though due to their long formation not all of them could take aim on the beast. Several bolts found their mark, and two even penetrated the thick flesh to draw blood.
The Quarrellers’ larger kin, the bolt throwers, attempted to shoot at the elephant and the white garbed spearmen, but none found their mark. Other than this rather ineffectual volley, the dwarfs simply stood in their ranks and files and waited - they would make the foe come to them. The Thunderers knew their bullets would not reach, so bided their time.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic6.jpg)
Prince Sadrin was mildly surprised, expecting something rather more dramatic than a few quarrels and a bouncing bolt or two from the Dwarfen lines. Yet he was keen not to underestimate his foe, and so ordered his camelry to move cautiously forwards maintaining the line of battle with the Swordsmen and the Desert Spear.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic5.jpg)
The Palace Guard, finding themselves fronted by a line of busy crossbowmen, realised that if they were to join the battle without disrupting their own lines they would have to turn to their right and march perpendicular to the army’s front to join the other foot regiment’s advance, even if somewhat tardy in doing so. All in all, more of a shuffle on the Arabyans’ left than an advance.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic7.jpg)
On the right, however, the advance was a more confident affair. The light horse rode right up to the woods and reformed to make a better shooting line, while the handgunners and slave archers did their best to keep up. But it was the elephant’s thundering progress that drew most attention, as it’s drivers’ thought to reach the enemy while the beast had enough blood in its veins to keep it on its feet! They knew that enough crossbow quarrels, if allowed to do so, could bring the elephant down.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic8.jpg)
The Wizard Mukri, in his flowing black robes, ran to join the Desert Spear, while Zadra remained with the Crossbow detachment, but when they unleashed their magics only one Dwarf slayer fell to a fireball. Perhaps they were only warming up, and their full onslaught was yet to come?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic9.jpg)
The Arabyan artillery proved even less successful than the wizards, for they both missed their marks. Admittedly the crews were green, what with the most experienced gunners having been ridden down and skewered by goblin charioteers two weeks earlier, and so Sadrin had not expected great things from them. At least, Zadra had advised, they might use this battle as a chance to practise their art.
When the horse loosed their arrows, one dwarfen crossbowman fell, to be joined by two more when the Arabyan crossbowmen let fly their own missiles. More than one soldier began to wonder: Was this to be a battle of manoeuvring and slow whittling away of lives?
The gyrocopter pilot was of another mind, and flew his steam powered contraption as close to the enemy line as he could manage. Ideally he hoped to fire a blast of bullets down the full length of the Arabyan handgunners, whilst sitting near enough to the elephant to make its crew think twice about advancing at full speed. But none of this was to be - the blast of steam generated by its boiler took it to the front and side of the handgunners (the wrong side to the elephant), allowing only an oblique shot with the steam gun which brought down a mere two of the foe.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic10.jpg)
Perhaps it is their true nature, perhaps merely what they would like others to think, but the Quarrellers calmly went on with the business of re-spanning their weapons even though the Elephant was getting closer and closer. Their next cloud of bolts failed to scratch the beast’s hide, and instead only killed on of the crewmen. Realising the danger the Quarrellers were in, the crew of the entrenched Bolt Thrower nearby once again tried - with no more luck. Another huge bolt flew right past the beasts to land some distance behind the Arabyan lines. Deciding his engines were not yet in range of the elephant, the dwarfen engineer on the hill to the right ordered his pair to shoot at the white clad spear again, this time tearing five men apart. Their comrades were now spattered with crimson lifeblood, and (rightly) supposed yet more would be spilled before long.
The Arabyan handgunners, not wishing to let the noisy flying machine before them get another, perhaps better angled shot at them, charged it. The dwarf pilot, however, found enough steam to hop the gyrocopter successfully away from them. Nearby, the elephant and the light horse moved almost right up to the Quarrellers. The Arabyans had snatched the initiative on this side of the field, leaving the dwarfs unsure how to respond. The Quarrellers had had too much confidence in their crossbows, and were now facing almost certain death under the feet of a monster. Already there were noticeable signs of disarray in their line, as several stumbled a little backwards whilst other shouted in dismay.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic11.jpg)
On the Arabyan left the two advance regiments of foot marched onwards, while the Palace Spearmen turned to face and thus begin a move in the right direction. Yet Prince Sadrin halted his camelry, and wondered how best he might bring them to bear. He had seen the bolts flying through the spearmen and did not want to suject his best men, his young nobles, to such a fate.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic12.jpg)
The Arabyans’ magic now failed completely, sapped of its power by the famous Dwarfen ability to suppress the etheric winds. Worse still, the gunners’ inexperience now really showed, for both machines misfired, having been o’er hastily loaded by ill-practised hands. At least the crossbowmen knew what they were doing, and their well aimed volley brought down the gyrocopter and sent it crashing into the ground to smash into an hundred pieces.
(To be continued - turn 3 and 4 next)
Notes: @ Von Kurst - GP has placed the HG correctly. The elephant's cheeky trunk got in the way! And yeah, the Light Horse could be better formed into two units, but hey - this is a fluff army and I stuck them together as one. 'J' still got to choose which army he played and he still chose arabs. J was playing cautiously here, which is unlike him (he is very experienced), but I think there may have been an element of him not wanting to expect too much from his troops - he plays demons, High Elves, TK, Skaven and Ogres normally. All of which, in various ways, might make one think the arabyans were weak.
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And the battle has just begun!
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Nice camels! Which rules are you using for the Araby army?
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Which rules are you using for the Araby army?
It's a legal Empire army, with Dogs of War Light and Heavy Horse, and an elephant (bow-less stegadon, Lizardmen rules) added as a kind of arabyan stank-thing!
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Oh, I see. The camels need special rules too, really (lower movement, cause fear against horses).
Anyway, great report so far!
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Handgunners--Doh! My failure to move the screen to reveal more of the picture. I've had those same models for years. Still not painted. Good paint job Padre.
The Dwarf crossbows have be sabotaged by the same folks who got the Arabyan's artillery.
Fight on!
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With the giant, enraged elephant heading straight towards them, the Quarrellers finally succumbed to terror and turned to flee away pell mell.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic13.jpg)
An eagle high above would see that the Arabyans were now truly beginning to flank the dwarfs. Only a lone Bolt Thrower remained upon the far left of the Dwrafen lines. Yet the Dwarfs’ main fighting line stood firm, and the now left-most regiment of Dwarfen Warriors turned to face the approaching elephant.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Amon2Pic14.jpg)
All three Bolt Throwers now targeted the grey beast of war, and although two bolts struck home, neither pierced the beast’s tough hide, and both simply hung down from its side. Three Desert Spearmen fell to the Dwarfen handgunners’ bullets (who had finally found themselves in range of the foe), but apart from this, the Dwarfs could only watch as the foe advanced.
And advance is exactly what the Arabyans did - their two foremost regiments of foot heading straight for the Dwarfs’ fighting line.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic15.jpg)
On the right of the Arabyan position the light horse drove off the fleeing Quarrellers so that they would contribute nothing more to the fight, whilst the elephant moved confidently right in front of the warriors. Prince Sadrin finally decided to make his move, and advanced his regiment over the hill to head towards the dwarven flank. He knew not yet whether he would charge the massed foot or the engines on the hill, just that he could wait no longer to provide support for his brave men of the desert.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic16.jpg)
The mortar’s crew were struggling to put right the mistakes they had made in loading their engine previously, having to re-prime their piece and re-light their extinguished match. The cannon crew, however, managed to get their piece to fire, only to see the ball fly right over the enemies’ heads and smash into the hillside beyond. Two more dwarfs did perish, however, as the Crossbowmen and Handgunners poured two volleys into the warriors facing the elephant.
The dwarfs of Karak Zorn could see that they were in danger of being flanked on both sides, and so now the three regiments on the right marched obliquely towards the foe, to face the spears, swords and camels in such a manner that the foe could only charge to their front …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic17.jpg)
… while the engineer upon the hill finally employed the rune inscribed upon his engine to send a magically powered bolt deep into the elephant’s skull, killing it instantly. The Thunderers on the hill did not stop to cheer, but fired a volley into the Desert Spearmen and brought down five of their number. This undoubtedly unnerved the arabyans, yet they did not run. Instead they calmly began to back off from the foe, joined in their unexpected manoeuvre by the black clad swordsmen to their side! At the same time the Palace Spearmen moved up thus creating a ragged line of three regiments, which is what the Arabyans were wanting.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic18.jpg)
This caution, however, was not shared by every arabyan on the field, for it was now that Prince Sadrin led his camelry in a charge against the war machines upon the hill …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic19.jpg)
… while the slave archers over on the far side of the field launched a charge of their own against the other war machine.
The horse archers chose to ignore the nearest warriors for now and moved instead towards the centre of the field, while the two wizards (not keen to end up in any sort of melee, and seeing that the bolt throwers were now unable to shoot) moved out of the units they were sheltering in. Both Zadra and Mukri intended now to let rip with their magic, and indeed their next two fireballs curled through the air to crash into the Thunderers upon the hill. Perhaps the gunpowder they carried about their persons in horns and bottles added to the effect, for all but one perished in the ensuing blaze. The last remaining Dwarf stood dazed, still pointing towards the foe as he had been giving a command to fire when the fireballs landed. There was no-one left to follow his command!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic20.jpg)
The cannon sent a ball ploughing through the Dwarfen warriors on the flank of the enemy line, killing four, yet even though the handgunners brought down another the Dwarfs refused to be cowed and stood their ground. This spirit of defiance was present across the field, for the crews of the engines managed stubbornly to hold off both the camel riders and the archers. (Who would have thought it would have been the bolt thrower crews who saw the first real fighting of the battle? And who would have expected them to hold against such numbers of the foe? Not I, for one. But they did.)
Turns 5 and 6 to come soon.
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Final Part
Now at last the dwarfs unleashed the warriors: the slayers smashed into the Desert Spearmen whilst to their right the Hammerers, along with their Lord and Thane, plunged into the black clad swordsmen.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic21.jpg)
Somehow the spearmen found the courage to stand even though three of their number were brought down, but the swordsmen, being battered hard by the attack turned and fled. The lord led his Hammerers in pursuit and utterly dispersed the swordsmen as a consequence. The Hammerer’s standard bearer now carried two standards - his own and the enemy’s. There would be a new banner to decorate the Hall of Victories in their mountain fastness. Though the sight of all this was somewhat disturbing to the Arabyans nearby, especially Zadra who stood closest to the mayhem, none joined in the flight.
Bravery of a much more desperate kind was being exhibited upon the hill, for even though all but one crewman (including the engineer) were killed by the Prince and his camelry, the last remaining stout fellow fought on furiously, refusing to leave his machine while he had life in him. This did not go unnoticed by the Dwarfen warriors below the hill who had already turned about in the hope of charging the Prince’s men in the rear.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic22.jpg)
And upon the other side of the field, the crewmen of the third engine held their own against the skirmishing archers once more, even though the foe had jumped upon the defences. Upon the ground below the hill the light horse archers also chose to engage the foe in melee rather than shoot and so charged into the Dwarfen Warriors whop had foolishly turned to present a flank to the horsemen. Perhaps the dwarfs had not considered such a unit a threat?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic23.jpg)
This was a mistake, for the mounted Arabyans’ flanking charge put the Dwarfs in so much disarray that they turned and fled away being ridden down as a consequence.
Elsewhere the Arabyans were manoeuvring to attempt to intercept the foe. The Palace Spearmen turned to their left hoping thus to counter the threat presented by the Hammerers who had broken through the lines. The Wizard Zadra had his own means to intercept the foe, and knowing the danger his master the Prince was now in (with a regiment of Dwarfen warriors about to punch his guard from behind), he conjured up a blazing wall of fire to scald the dangerous unit, killing three and leaving the Dwarfs facing the prospect of a very painful experience if they did attempt to charge. It seemed to Zadra that this one action might not only have saved his Prince, but that it might have saved the whole battle from being a bloody defeat for the Arabs.
The archers on the far side of the field had no idea how things were faring for the rest of the force, however. All they knew was that two ferocious dwarfs were bloodying them badly. Deciding that there was no point in their continued sacrifice, they fled down the hill and away. The two dwarves watched them as they left, then got on with reloading their engine as if nothing of consequence had just happened.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic24.jpg)
In a move that mirrored what the foe had just done, the Dwarfen Lord turned his regiment of Hammerers to face the Palace Spearmen, while the unit of Warriors behind him was trapped by the Wall of Fire (Game note: I was surprised to see that any move of any kind, even away from the wall, means the unit suffers a number of hits equalling the number of models. I now understand why this spell is so highly rated!) The Slayers finally dispatched all but one Spearmen, snatching the standard from the last as he turned to flee away.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic25.jpg)
The commander of the Palace Spearmen thought better of engaging the Slayers, even though they stood before him with their flank exposed. (Game note: ‘J’ knew he couldn’t kill all of them, and that whoever survived would be unbreakable. But in terms of the story, the Hammerers would thus probably get to engage the Spearmen and tear them to pieces - though this would be fictional ‘turn 7’ move.)
Both magic and missiles large and small failed to do much harm to the foe, but the battle all but over. (Turn 6 ends.) The dwarfen warriors were held back from Prince Sadrin and his riders by the flames before them, giving the Prince time to turn to face them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Empire/Amon2Pic26.jpg)
(Post Game Story continuation...) While the Palace Spearmen moved steadily away from the Hammerers and Slayers backing off towards the artillery, the Handgunners, Crossbows, Light Horse and (now rallied) slave archers poured clouds of missiles to hold the foe off. The Dwarfen Lord knew that to attempt to follow them would be follow, for the foe would not allow him to engage them, whilst the missile troops would dance around his regiment to slowly whittle them down.
Darkness was falling in the foothills. Somehow the Prince had survived his brush with the vengeful dwarfs, but yet again the battle had cost him dear. Now not only was he lacking supplies, but his great war-elephant was slain. Worse still, men being men, he knew full well their would be muttering in the camp tonight concerning the ill fortune of this expedition. Muttering that could turn to thoughts of mutiny and desertion.
Result: ‘Minor Victory’ win by 424 VP to Arabyans.
Game Notes: Once again my generalship and knowledge of the rules proved wanting! Still, I loved the game, and whatever the result the story moves on. Hope you enjoyed it!
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Great story, with great pictures and narration, as per usual.
Cheers Padre!
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Great report! I am amazed that the light cav did anything. I suspect treachery in the dwarven ranks...
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I like the fire wall modeled with the cotton! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
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Southlands Coast, North of ‘Urry By Island
Bruggeman was picking at his teeth with a tiny shiver of wood whilst he watched the boat approach. Its path was a little erratic, with lurching motions the currents could not account for, as if the oarsmen were drunk. They may well have been, but drunk or sober, thought Bruggeman, their seamanship would no doubt be shoddy. They were goblins.
“Look at ‘em!” said Captain Bertrand as he took his place at the gunwhale next to his first mate, grinning. “They wouldn’t know a wooden topsail from a marlinespike. Still, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’, eh Brugg?”
Bruggeman thought about this for a moment, then turned to face the captain. “Is that so, captain? Do we really need them? Why can’t we just find the rest of the Tabrizians and join in the fun?”
The captain’s smiled stayed fixed to his face, “Because my good friend, we need more arms than we have. We’ve to get up that river to them, for a start, and I’d like to have something to throw at whatever comes at us - something other than my own lads - if only to keep the foe occupied. And then there’s the fact that Bartholomeus might decide we’re too late to earn our full share. I don’t want him dismissing us out of hand, thinking we’re such a small bunch of men that he can have us all killed.”
Bruggeman frowned, “But we ain’t going to give them a share, are we?”
“We’ll see,” said the captain. “I’ll take the measure of them first, and then I’ll work out how we deal with them, when we don’t want them around any more.”
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/gobboat.jpg)
The boat was close now and Bertrand’s gunner threw a line to them so that they could come along side. One of the greenskins, most probably the captain, was standing apart from those scrabbling for the rope. Two things marked him out from the rest - he had a multi-barrelled pistol, an unusual sight in anyone’s hands, and sported a knot of black hair tied up on the crown of his head. Must have some human blood in him, thought Bertrand.
“We is boarding and den talking, yes?” shouted the goblin. “No funny businesses?”
“No funny business,” answered Bertrand seriously, “just the kind that can make us all rich. You have my word, Captain Fargog.”
The goblin scowled, an expression neither Bertrand nor Bruggeman could fathom. Perhaps it was due to the sun shining in his blood red eyes? He then took a hold of a knotted rope that had been lowered and began hauling himself nimbly up the hull. He swung onto the deck and came to land before Bruggeman.
“Rich is good,” said Fargog, “we all likes the sound of that. Silver and gold all cut up fairly and squarely. But how rich is rich? And what does we ‘ave to do to get our mits on it?”
Bertrand glanced over to see how many of the other goblins were coming aboard. All but two, it looked like, which meant six including Fargog. “Captain, let’s go to my quarters and we’ll talk there over a cup of kill devil.”
Fargog sat himself down in one of the two chairs in the cabin, while two of his (biggest) crew-goblins stood behind him. Captain Bertrand took his ease in the other chair, while Bruggeman poured out some rum-punch for everyone present, wondering to himself that he never thought to play serving man to goblins.
Bertrand took a healthy draught, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then spoke. “‘How rich?’ you asked. Well, I cannot say exactly, but we’re talking a lot of the shiny stuff. The Tabrizians are ahead of us, see, looking for a pile of treasure, but I reckon what with the jungle being such a dangerous place, they’ll have dwindled somewhat in numbers, and they’ll be very grateful of a little help. We can give them that help, and so earn ourselves an equal share.”
Fargog, having drunk his rum in two swigs and in quick succession, pointed to his cup and waited for a stern faced Bruggeman to pour in a little more. Once that was done, he turned back to Bertrand. “Where is dat treasure? How is I to know you ain’t chasing a fancy?”
“It’s in the jungle. The Tabrizians know where it is, and I know where they are. That’ll have to do you for now. I’m not telling you where to look to have you go yourselves. We’re doing this together and everyone comes away with something.”
Agrog laughed. “You don’t trust us?”
“We trust you enough to share the dangers,” said Bertand. “To share the fighting and get what you deserve. That’ll have to do. This works both ways: we know where to go; you provide the force we need to get there. You happy with that?”
“I is ‘appy enough, fer now. But stow this in yer noddle-hold: if you turns on us, if you runs away or stabs us in da back or plays tricks and treacheries, then we is gonna kill every one of yer.”
Bertrand beamed. “I think we understand each other good and proper. O’ course the same applies the other way. It’d best then if we both behave, eh?”
Fargog hefted his boarding axe, which had been hanging from his belt wear others might have carried a cutlass, and held it up before him.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/axe.jpg)
A moment passed, then Bertrand remembered he had seen this before, amongst the half-orcs who served several Tabrizian ships. He reached out with his right arm and took a hold of the axe’s haft too.
“Now we is on da same side,” said Fargog.
“Aye, that we are.”
Back on the boat, and half way between the Sea Drake and their own ship, Fargog’s right hand goblin Bodga seemed suddenly to snap out of a daze. “Err, so cap’n, what’s we doin’?”
“We is joining dem for a while.”
“And den what?”
Fargog picked at his nose to extract a large bogey. He rolled it carefully between forefinger and thumb until it had accrued enough grime to lose its stickiness. “Den,” he said, flicking the bogey into the sea, “we is doin’ what we always do…”
Bodga looked back towards the Sea Drake and finished Fargog’s sentence for him: “… Killin’ all of dem and taking all der stuff.”
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The lady friend said goblins wouldn't make that nice of a boat. I said they probably stole it. She giggled. :icon_cool:
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The Southlands’ Jungle
More than 70 Leagues upriver
The Tabrizians set up camp upon a spur of land tucked inside a sharp crescent curve along the sluggishly flowing river. Thus the river provided a defence upon three sides and they needed to construct a palisade only on one side. Of course all knew they would never find the city of gold whilst lounging in a camp slowly succumbing to fever of the yellow, camp and malarial kind, and so as soon as the defences were functioning the main part of their force had marched out. During a fit of fever that loosened his tongue like no other circumstance had so far done, Webbe Nijman had indicated the city lay to the north through a particularly soggy swamp.
The boats had proved incapable of crossing the tangled morass, and so it was left to the pirates’ tired legs to make the journey. Admiral Bart ordered almost the same force as had assaulted the beach to assemble, and although this raised some arguments the council of captains were persuaded to agree. He had chosen the force previously for its ability to work on the land, while the men left behind were the best able to defend the ships. This time he reckoned the same applied, though now the defenders guarded only the boats and the camp. He did make some changes, however. Several artillery pieces had been mounted to guard the entrance to the camp, which meant he could not take as many with him as he had on the dunes. Yet there was no way he was marching without some artillery - many of the men in his army preferred a good artillery duel at sea rather than boarding, and he and they saw no reason to suppose it was any different on land. Besides, it was an artillery piece that had won the day during the Battle of the Dunes. Thus the force had two cannons and a mortar, dragged upon raft-like sledges. But admiral Bart wanted more than just these, and so this time ordered the four ogres in his own crew to carry four more artillery pieces (at least the barrels). He had seen this done during battles on the Badlands’ coast, and so reckoned his own Ogres could do the same for him.
Bart’s bosun Jan Mostert and first mate Lisbeth Boone took command of his own fighting crewmen, while Claudio Sagrada was once again given the artillery to command. Wilfred Mostert, half brother to Jan, commanded his own crew, the same men who had fled from Galdabash in the dunes, but Captain Bartolomeo del Portes, who had lost his duellists at the mouth of the river, now marched with the Norsemen, while their own chief Sven Ironson gave the orders. The force was composed of the four main regimented companies - Arabyan swordsmen, Norse spearmen and two Tabrizian bands. Several smaller companies of handgunners and crossbowmen added to the missile power of the artillery. As ever, due the Tabrizian distrust of wizards, there were no magic users amongst the force, or at least none that would admit to being such! With pirates, who knows?
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Upon the March
Herman was not at all happy with the state of his feet. They had scabbed in new and exotic ways, and now ached and itched in a novel manner that sometimes made him groan and other times laugh. Right now it was the latter effect he was feeling.
“What you giggling about, Herm?” asked Stefanus.
“Oh, don’t mind me - it’s my feet.”
Stefanus furrowed his brow in confusion, “But I do mind. Pray, tell, why do you find your feet so funny?”
Herman rolled his eyes. “Oh, I suppose your feet are all spick an’ span, then? I suppose you’ve got the pretty pieds of a sprite little lass whose soles have never touched the ground without being first clad in silken stockings and velvet slippers?”
“You know,” said Stefanus, “you’ve gotten to be a right difficult fellow to talk to of late?”
“Ha!” blurted Herman. “You’ve some right to speak. If you’d ever tried getting any sense out of you in the night then you’d know what ‘difficult’ is really like.”
“What do you mean getting sense out of myself?”
Herman stopped for the briefest moment, then continued splashing through the mire. “No, I meant have you ever been me trying to get sense out of you in the middle of the night.”
“Strangely enough, Herm, I’ve never been you either during the night or the day.”
“You’re not getting my meaning …”
Now it was Stefanus’ turn to laugh. “Ha! So says the man who’s claiming he doesn’t understand me! Let me get this right: if I understand you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t understand me and I don’t understand you. But it occurs to me that if this is true, then my lack of understanding means I must be wrong in my assumption, and thus in truth we do understand each other. Yet if that is or is not the case, then we’re both in the same boat either way.”
Herm rubbed his weather worn brow with both his callused hands. “A conversation with you, Stefanus, is like sailing close hauled to a strong wind, tacking sharp and losing so much leeway that hardly any progress is made at all.”
Both thought about this for a while, until Herm (his hands still obscuring his vision due to his efforts to massage his aching head) suddenly fell forward, his foot stuck in a sticky patch of slimy tendrils. After much splashing, tugging and pulling, finally Stefanus got him free, followed by Herm being required to free Stefanus from the puddle of sucking sand he landed arse-first into after freeing Herman. Eventually, with both men considerably muddier than they had been a few minutes earlier, they were back on their way.
Suddenly Herman spoke: “All I’m saying, if I am allowed to put it bluntly, is that you talk in your sleep, and in such a manner as presents even less sense than your daytime words.”
“What did I say in my sleep?” asked Stefanus tentatively, half remembering the shape of his nightmares of the previous night, while fully recalling the fear.
“You said that them who die today will kill them who die tomorrow, and that them who died yesterday will kill them who died today.”
“That makes sense,” countered Stefanus, “for it’s the dead we’re to face in battle. The same as we did on the beach. The dead will kill the living, and then - Manaan preserve me - those killed will join the dead to kill some more.”
“Aye, but then you said I need not worry, for I wouldn’t be doing any killing either way.”
“Why would I say that?” asked Stefanus.
Herm was at the end of his tether. “How should I know? It was you who said it!”
“But I wasn’t listening when I said it, was I? You said I was asleep.”
Rolling his eyes, Herm muttered, “I doubt you’re ever fully awake.” Then, much louder, he said, “Forget it, old friend. Just a nightmare, eh?”
“Aye,” said Stefanus. “Just a nightmare.”
Suddenly there was an awful wailing sound from up ahead, followed by the cacophonous, tuneless peeling of ancient ship’s bells. Both old sailors knew this sound - Galdabash’s army was approaching.
“I’d willingly take that nightmare again rather than the nightmare that’s about to begin.”
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The Field of Battle
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Battlefield.jpg)
The Forces.
The Tabrizian Pirates (Empire, 2239 Pts)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon2.jpg)
LORD: Admiral Bartholomeus ‘Bart’ Pasterkamp
General; Pistol; Sword of Power; Jade Amulet
HERO: Captain Wilfred Mostert
Pistol; Sword of Battle; Talisman of Protection
HERO: Captain Bartolomeo del Portes
Hand Weapon; Sword of Striking; The White Cloak
HERO: Engineer/Captain Claudio Sagrada
Hand Weapon; Repeater Pistol
CORE: Pasterkamp's Crew - 25 Free Company, FC, Extra Hand Weapon
CORE: Mostert's Crew Crew - 25 Free Company, FC, Extra Hand Weapon
CORE: Zazarri Marwan's Regiment - 25 Swordsmen, FC + Det of 10 Crossbow
CORE: Sven Ironson’s Norsemen - 25 Spearmen, Shield
CORE: 10 Pasterkamp's Handgunners
CORE: 10 Mostert's Handgunners
CORE: 10 Bartolomeo's Handgunners
3 SPECIAL: Artillery - 2 Great Cannons & 1 Mortar
RARE: Thodrin's Slayers (DoW Long Drong’s) - 21 Slayer Pirates + Thodrin
RARE: 4 Ogre Leadbelchers[/center]
Grand Admiral Galdabash’s Zombie Pirates
( Luthor Harkon List from old White Dwarf, Total Points = 2252)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon1.jpg)
Grand Admiral Galdabash (as Luthor Harkon)
Vampire Fleet Captain (Brace of Pistols, Moonshine)
Vampire Fleet Captain (Brace of Pistols, Bloody Norah!)
Vampire Fleet Captain (Battle Standard, Dead Man’s Chest)
25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob (Musician)
25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob (Standard, Musician)
25 Zombie Pirates Deck Hands Mob (Standard, Musician)
10 Zombie Pirates Gunnery Mob
2 Bloated Corpses
14 Scurvy Dogs (with Bad Dog)
5 Animated Hulks
2 Carronades
5 Bases of Razortooth Rats
2 Rotting Leviathans
---------------------------------------------
Before the Battle
Thodrin’s dwarfen pirates had loaded every pistol they possessed, a task that used nearly a full budge barrel of powder and a weight of shot that an elephant would struggle to carry. Nearly every pistol had not one but two or three balls rammed down it, and nearly every ball was nicked and grooved in the hope that it would shatter and tear the rotten flesh of the foe more effectively. If the four ogres, each shirtless in the heat, had known what a storm of lead could erupt from the body behind them in the line, then maybe they would have shivered. As it was they knew not, and cared not. They had their own burdens to haul, and they too could fire a cloud of bullets that would put to shame an Imperial Helblaster.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon3.jpg)
Admiral Bart stood with his own crew, his death’s head and cutlass standard fluttering above his head. Lisbeth Boone was also in the front rank, shouting curses at the foe (and occasionally at whichever man was not where he should be in the body) and waved her blade about in a display of dextrous sword skill that was visible proof she had not drunk a drop of rum that day. Bart’s bosun, Jan, was at the rear, his huge pistol propped on his hip as he eyed the men before them and left them with no doubt what would happen should any of them attempt to flee.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon4.jpg)
Battle to follow...
Game Note: Uryens took command of the living and I the dead in this battle. His choice. I reckoned that the extra Leviathan, and the use of more up to date undead rules (no ‘braindead’ rule) might swing things in Galdabash’s favour.
What do you reckon?
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Ooh! Sounds like fun! My bet is on the living - especially since they have slayer pirates!
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Arrr! I'll takes the living as well. Good to see this continue. Can't wait for the new gobos to show up in a report!
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The Battle
Out to the left of the Tabrizian Pirates’ lines Captain del Portes stood uncomfortably with Sven Ironson’s Norsemen - he clad in black velvet and his scarlet red short cloak trimmed in golden braid, the Norsemen in course wool and linen overlaid by chain-mail, their short thrusting spears clattering against the iron edges of their round shields. The captain glanced to his right and saw Sagrada’s artillery battery preparing to fire, a sight reminding him of the Battle of the Dunes, for he had been next to the artillery then too, first witnessing then joining their flight from the field. Surely, he thought, the same thing could not happen twice?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon5.jpg)
In front of him some of his own surviving crewmen, Handgunners, stood in a thin line ramming home their charges. They had been given strict instruction to keep their powder dry and to keep their slow-match lit at both ends. The captain wondered how many would discover their pieces misfiring even so, for the march had made every man sodden to the core. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, as he could make out through the line of Handgunners that the enemy had begun to advance. Cursing the gods (and he’d had plenty of reasons to do that of late) he saw at once how the enemy was moving fastest towards him, again!
The Scurvy Dogs moved quickly on the far flank, with a large swarm of Razortooth Rats swarming up on their left. Both Leviathons scuttled on, while Galdabash himself and his Animated Hulks also came up. It seemed the undead admiral intended fleeter elements of his force to strike as soon as possible, engaging the enemy so that he and his heavier troops could smash into a line already wavering under the onslaught and so with weakening resolve
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon6.jpg)
The massed Zombies of the centre and left of Galdabash’s line moved a lot more slowly, and not just because they were less influenced by their master’s will being so much further away from him, but by design. Galdabash was hoping they could provide a suitable distraction for the enemy’s own centre and right, allowing him to tear their left flank apart without being disturbed. One of the carronades discovered it had a line of sight on the enemy’s cannon, and so fired - but the ball killed only one of the Tabrizian crew and failed to harm the piece.
Captain del Portes raised his hand, hoping none would notice how it shook uncontrollably, and signalled his intention. The Norse did as he commanded and began to back off a little. ‘Time’, he thought, ‘I must buy some time so that the other regiments might come to our aid’. While he retreated in the face of the foe, however, the other flank of the army advanced as far as they could. If the enemy was to outflank them on their left, then they would do the same to the enemy’s left. So on they came, while the rest of the army stood its ground and hefted various missile weapons to make ready for a volley.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon7.jpg)
When the Tabrizian cannons opened fire they knew what they had to target - both took aim at the nearest Leviathon. But although one ball did glance along the terrible beast’s side, it was the advancing rat swarms that were harmed the most by the balls’ flight. Umpteen rats were flattened, smashed or thrown into the air. The Handgunners and Crossbowmen on the left, however, could see that the Scurvy Dogs were about to charge their artillery, and so they shot at them, and half the dogs were brought down as a consequence. A mauling like this might have seen off a living foe, but the undead have no such cares and failed even to notice the damage. The dogs came on.
Thus it was that seven of the Scurvy Dogs wheeled in a long line to charge at the artillery. So extended was their front that they were, in effect, charging all three crews. Both cannon crews had no wish to face the stinking claws and gaping maws of such foul creatures and fled away as fast as their legs could carry them. Yet Captain Sagrada, perhaps not willing to be chased a second time from the field of battle, held his ground, and the mortar crew drew their cutlasses to stand defiantly by his side. One even held a round shot of iron in his hands intended to crush the skull of one of the undead hounds with its weight!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon9.jpg)
Meanwhile the rest of the undead continued their advance. Both Leviathans moved up by Galdabash’s side so that a line of monstrous creatures now faced the Handgunners and Crossbowmen behind which del Portes was skulking, and the rat swarms (still large in number) wheeled sharply to head towards the Handgunners in the centre of the Tabrizian line.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon8.jpg)
When the Carronade opened up a second time, its three-pound ball hurtled through Admiral Bart’s regiment and took the heads clean off four of them, bosun Jan Mostert included! His heavy pistol fell to the ground unfired, and almost immediately the men in the rear realised there was none to stop them, should it prove necessary, from fleeing now. And if iron balls kept felling them four at a time, it could indeed prove necessary. Stefanus and Herman, standing in the rightmost file, frowned silently at each other. Stefanus pointed at his friend’s face and mouthed the word, ‘Blood’. Upon smearing the red gobbet across his face, Herman raised his eyebrows and asked, “Gone?” Now recognising the pointlessness in trying to clean blood of one’s face during battle, Stefanus simply nodded and said, “Aye”, while wondering while the sight of Herm’s bloody face seemed more ominous that it ought to.
While Sagrada and his crew mustered the courage and skill to stand their ground against the ravenous dogs clawing and biting at them, Galdabash raised his huge blade as preparing to signal the charge.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon10.jpg)
Both fleeing cannon crews, faced with the expanse of stinking, disease ridden swamp ahead of them, suddenly decided they would in fact rather stay with the rest of the Tabrizians and halted their flight. The Arabyan Swordsmen reformed to face the foe on their left, while the rest of the line moved once more to sweep around and close in on the foe.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon11.jpg)
The cannon wielding Ogres found themselves slowed somewhat by the terrain but reckoned they were close enough to let loose a blast. Seven Zombies succumbed to the cloud of sangranel and stones produced. At the same moment the Crossbowmen and Handgunners managed to fell one of the Animated Hulks accompanying Galdabash, and visibly wound another (if the undead can be said to be ‘wounded’). The more central Handgunners, who had remained stationary so as to be able to load and fire, tore a good handful of rats to pieces with their own volley. Sagrada proved even more effective in melee, for he and his crewman slew three of the dogs, and the last succumbed to a sudden loss of ‘un-vitality’ as the magical curse animating it lost the necessary potency.
But the rats scuttled on, and the Hulks slowed not one jot. Galdabash’s monsters were about to get to grips with the Tabrizians.
End of Turn 2. Turn 3 to follow. (Anyone wanna revise their guess re: who’s gonna win?)
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That trick never works! More!
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Have no idea who will win, but what's the deal wiht that wolf/dog wiht the black and yellow striped tail? He from Averland or something else?
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That's a skeleton horse's tail to indicate that he's a dead wolf walking, GP. I do like the idea of him being from Averland though...
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Turns 3 to 6
Now came the first real clash of the day as Galdabash led his brace of Leviathans and his Hulks onto the foe, which turned out to be two very unlucky units - Captain del Portes’ Handgunners and the Arabyan Corsair Crossbowmen. The Razortooth Rats launched a considerably less dramatic charge against Sagrada and his Mortar crew, thus ensuring that the engine would not be employed for a while yet.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon12.jpg)
The crossbowmen fled in fear, but from somewhere the Handgunners found the courage to face the terrors that assailed them (Game Note: passing fear, terror and fear tests). One bullet made its mark on the exoskeletal plates of the centremost monstrous crab, but then the undead hit and delivered a fury of attacks killing the Handgunners to a man. Galdabash leaped over the corpses and immediately launched another charge, this time into the massed ranks of the Norse Spearmen (whop stood their ground). One of the Leviathans joined in this attack, while the other chased the recently rallied cannon crew off the field.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon13.jpg)
The rats killed Sagrado, tearing flesh from his legs and groin in a most horrible attack. The crew, overwhelmed by the undead vermin, fled away.
Being so close to the monstrous Leviathan, the Crossbowmen now fled away in terror, though the last remaining cannon crew ran back to their piece and began hastily preparing it for another shot. While the leadbelcher Ogres reloaded their iron burdens, the Dwarven Pirates and the Arabyan Swordsmen moved on to present a fighting front towards the left flank and the monsters rampaging there.
When the already enraged Hulks and Leviathan joined their master in the fight against the Norse, massive destruction was wrought. Captain del Portes and Sven Ironson both perished, torn to pieces by the claws of the vampire and one of his undead servants. The surviving Norsemen fled pell mell away, most being slaughtered after only a few steps. (Game Note: Galdabash killed Sven the unit champion with an overkill of 5, the Leviathan killed 5 Norse and the Hulks killed del Portes and 4 more Norse.)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon14.jpg)
The cannon crew were never going to make their next shot for the rats now swarmed onto them. Elsewhere in the undead lines Galdabash’s servants did their best to bring themselves to face the enemy, although the regimented Zombies merely shifted about a little, still following Galdabash’s will that they might merely distract the enemy for as long as possible, absorbing the foe’s shot and dividing his front.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon15.jpg)
The carronade now opened up a third time, and once again the rusty iron round shot went skipping across the field towards Admiral Bart’s regiment. Stefanus actually saw it coming, a tiny (but growing) black shape rushing towards him like a trick of the light. Somehow he summoned up the dexterity in his weather worn and stiff frame to duck at the critical moment, though the ball took his hat off his head! His movement was immediately followed by a horrible, quick-fire thud, thud, thud, thud - like a drum roll upon an untightened skin. Stefanus knew that sound. He’d heard it before, and only recently. The ball had struck home, several times, and another file had been felled. Anxious horror burst into his mind, for if the ball had just missed him then it must have hit the man behind - Herm!
Stefanus did not need to turn around. He knew. Not because Herm should have made some comment, as was his usual manner, and no such words were uttered. But because of his dream the night before. He suddenly remembered it in all its gory detail: Herm, headless, crumpling backwards onto another headless man, cutlass undrawn, pistol unfired. And without a head, with no undead afterlife awaiting him. Herm would indeed kill no-one today or tomorrow.
The rat swarms must have been sated with the blood they had already spilled, for they could harm not a one of the cannon crew. In response the gunners hacked several rats apart and watched with satisfaction as several others succumbed to true death as the necromantic magic invigorating their dead flesh faded.
Beyond the copse of jungle trees on the far edge of the field the Crossbowmen rallied, though none were keen to rush back towards the fray. The leadbelcher Ogres thought to save their powder and charged the little company of Zombie Handgunners before them rather than fire at them, felling eight of the walking corpses. The remaining two zombies collapsed without even being touched by the Ogre’s clubs. Closer to the centre of the field the final few rats now leapt up to tear at the crewmen’s hands and faces, killing one of them. The other two, now having witnessed the horrible demise of their comrade, lost the will to fight and stumbled away as best they could.
Along the Tabrizian line each unit moved cautiously to create a solid front with which to face the enemy, the whole army now facing towards what was originally their left flank. The leftmost Zombie Pirate regiment hurled themselves into the Ogres (who once again saved their shots) but failed even to scratch the huge, grey warriors, while four of their own number were to broken into pieces by the Ogre’s return attacks.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon16.jpg)
And the Bloated Corpses also stumbled into the enemy. One hacked down a pirate in Wilfred Mostert’s regiment, then killed three more when it’s own gaseous demise caused poisonous vapours to engulf them.
It was all the Tabrizians could do to once more manoeuvre into a defensive line, this time with the Dwarfen Slayer Pirates managing to get within range of the foe. Their hail of leaden shot only managed to penetrate the Leviathan’s shell, however, in one place. It seemed their trick of scoring and pitting their bullets to better tear the undead flesh of the shambling zombies had, well, ‘backfired’ on them! Such bullets were simply not fit to penetrate the armoured shell of a prehistoric crustacean monster.
The Ogres were having better success against the Zombies, flattening and dismembering umpteen of them. But one survived their fury, and as they looked around to see what they had done, they saw this last staggering towards them, his rusty blade held aloft.
Now, it seemed to Galdabash, he could deliver the coup de grace. At last the enemy’s commander was within reach. His screeching wail was all the command his servants needed. He himself broke from his guard of animated hulks and charged the admiral’s regiment, joined by the large regiment under the command of two of his fleet captains. At the same moment the other fleet captain led the next regiment in the line forwards in a charge against Mostert’s band. In an attempt to be cunning, Galdabash held back his full fury, and willed his more monstrous servants to stand, that they might be better able to protect his flank from a counter attack by the enemy’s Swordsmen and Dwarfs.
But things did not turn out as the vampire wished. Both Bart and Mostert ordered their men to flee, and when they did, every pirate proved fleet enough to escape Galdabash’s clutches. They were joined in flight by a company of Handgunners.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon17.jpg)
How could this be? Galdabash had achieved all he hoped to achieve: smashing through upon one flank with the true strength of his army, then turning to run down the rest. And yet the enemy was escaping. Perhaps, he thought, they would lose all cohesion in the flight? Perhaps their initial retreat would turn into a full-scale rout. If so, then yes, the battle was won. He would disperse them into the deadly swamps and have his servants hunt them down and slaughter them piecemeal. They would not make it back to their camp, and certainly would never find the city of gold he considered his.
These hopes proved too ambitious. The enemy, it turned out, was seasoned to fear, as well as greedy and desperate enough to keep trying even when they ought to know they were beat. Every single regiment and company rallied, then calmly re-ordered themselves to form another battle line.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon18.jpg)
A mighty roar erupted on the Tabrizian’s right as the Ogres finally unleashed their second sulphurous blast, this time tearing seven Zombies to shreds. This was followed by the rippling peel of another hail of pistol bullets from the dwarfs, but once again they could do nothing but scratch the monstrous crustacean standing before them.
Game note: End of turn 6. Believe it or not, and I should have known - what with me commanding the Zombies - this was a draw. A draw 170 VP in favour of the Tabrizians! Still, I reckoned that Galdabash was finally on the offensive, and considering his own men, and those he had slaughtered, would soon rise up to serve him once more (apart from the headless Herm and his similarly deficient chums) then his strength was anything but truly diminished. The Tabrizians, however, had lost 3 artillery pieces, 2 captains and a large regiment of Norsemen, as well as a company of Handgunners. Their crossbowmen were cut off from the rest of the army. Maybe, just maybe, one could presume their advance into the jungle had been checked, even if just for now? Uryens, my brave, cunning and unflappable opponent, was in agreemen with this selfish assessment.
So … with that in mind, I will continue the tale. What follows is of my own devising, and not the result of a combination of 7th edition WFB, dice and player decisions.
Admiral Bartolomeus Pasterkamp stood with his rallied men, his standard upon one side and his mighty giant of a carpenter upon the other. Lisbeth Boone was also still alive, shouting words of encouragement. Bart knew that he could not ask his men to advance again, but he knew also that he was glad to be alive. Death, or more accurately undeath, had been close, and he had escaped by the skin of his teeth. There could be no more fighting today, that he understood - but he could still get away with much of his force, and might yet find a way to lay to rest the vampiric Grand Admiral.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon19.jpg)
Wilfred Mostert could not believe his luck. Not only had he escaped the tainted clutches of the living dead, but his regiment was still almost wholly intact. Now a copse of trees protected him from any immediate threat, while fearless Ogres were moving up on his right to guard his flank. Still, he thought, this day is lost. When will the Bart see sense and sound the retreat?
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon20.jpg)
No such thoughts went through the minds of the enemy’s captains (more accurately, perhaps, no thoughts at all). On they came, splashing ungainly through the mud.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon21.jpg)
Galdabash knew full well his real chance this day had been snatched away from him. Yet he cared not, for what was another day or two to him? He would follow these wretches and catch them the first opportunity he had. And when they were finally beaten, they would rise from the mire and serve him, in death.
Soon, he decided, the force at my command will swell in size. I look not at an enemy, but at slaves to be. The city of gold will be mine.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon22.jpg)
Then it came, the signal for retreat. The young lad in Bart’s regiment beat as hard as he could so that none could be mistaken. The Arabyan Swordsmen’s agha raised his hand - first to halt the regiment’s advance …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon24.jpg)
… then to turn them around and march them away.
Thodrin Hookhand could not understand it. So what if a few men had died? So what if night was falling? The enemy were there before them and there was more fighting to be done. But Thodrin was no fool. The fighting could not be done by his dwarves alone. If the men of Tabriz were leaving, then he too must go with them.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/Leviathon23.jpg)
Thus ended the Battle of the Stinking Mire.
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Clearly treachery is rife in the pirate ranks! How handy that reinforcements are following along. (How sad that those reinforcements are goblins and not ogres...) Wonderful battle, on to the next.
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I think 'Headless Herman' should make another appearance!
Galdabash and those Rotting Leviathans certainly are a deadly combination, an entire unit of Spears and a Captain massacred within two minutes!
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Ok, I know it's been a while - like a whole year - but I was distracted. First by Gabriele Condlumar and the Compagnia del Sol (T&G), as well as Guldar Bestbasha (we're talking a LOT of painting and conversions etc), then by Warlord Scabscar (Animosity 5). A lot of distraction, then. Finally, and with your permission, I thought that I should return to All That Glistens. I know some of you were really enjoying this, as was I, and I feel I owe it to you and myself to move things on once more.
Here is the first new piece. Now I have a battle to arrange.
Living Gods
The living god Ta-Dino-Po, last surviving spawn of the mighty father god Doh-Oda-Toh (though many pygmy tribes had yet to learn this was so), had commanded every warrior of the Inni-ano tribe to assemble. The gathering was to take place at a sacred site of the ancient sibling gods Brobok and Besbak, which seemed an ominous choice to the Inni-ano’s chieftains and shamans, for never before had the living gods acknowledged the old pygmy gods. It had long been accepted by all the tribes that the living gods had driven the squabbling, immortal brothers into exile, and furthermore that Ta-Dino-Po, his siblings and his father were so filled with ‘here-and-now’ power that they had failed even to notice the old gods’ departure. The wisest shamans preached that the old gods had merely been dreamt by the living gods, a dream that had been forgotten upon awakening.
Of course that did not mean that the statues of the old gods had also disappeared, for they were very definitely not the stuff of dreams. They were made of stone, petrified wood and hardened volcanic ash-clay, and if the living gods wanted to chase them away too then they would have to use mighty magics or one of the Putoo Tribe’s stegadons to lift and shift them. Several of the pygmy tribes still harboured respect for the old gods, and secretly tucked away in recesses and even inside the (hollow) statues were the rotting remains of many a placatory offering. It seemed a very sensible precaution to keep both old and new gods, the dead and the living, happy!
There was something worrying the Inni-ano more than the strange choice of meeting place, and that was the terrifying rumour that Ta-Dino-Po’s siblings, the living gods Bo-Tana-Oon and Go-Akill-An, had been killed in battle. Such a claim seemed to make little sense, of course, for how could someone kill an immortal being? Yet a gnawing doubt ate at many in the tribe. Could there be some truth in the claim? The story was said to have come from gibbering Olobol warriors who had fled from a battle to the west. Of course every Inni-ano knew that you could not trust any Olobol, but this was a lie that even an Olobol would surely not dare to tell. To claim a god had died was blasphemy of the worst kind, which would inevitably curse the speaker of such words. Even the Olobol were not that foolish.
Not that anyone intended to question Ta-Dino-Po about the matter. The living gods were to be listened to and obeyed, not spoken to.
So it was that the tribe now stood waiting at Old Gods’ Gate - the entrance to the Sacred Gardens. They had allowed their gorillagors to stray into gardens, for it had long been accepted that the great beasts were gifted to the Inni-ano by the old gods, and as such they were probably permitted to eat of the fruit of the garden. The pets of the old gods eating the old gods’ food. Why not? The old gods were no longer there to eat it, and it would be a shame to waste it.
The rest of the tribe’s fighters, foot warriors and those mounted on pygmy boars, were arrayed in two cohorts upon either side of the gate.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/PygMeet2.jpg)
Chieftain Ri-Ri-Kut stood before the gateway itself, flanked by his son, Ho-Ri-Gon and the tribe’s high shaman Pal-Lal-La-Ba-Ro. He was impressively dressed in his ceremonial garb, the skin of the first pygmy boar to leap the Oodle Gap and a green feather headdress. This was all much more imposing than his son’s loincloth and necklace of scarlet Dung Flowers. In accordance to the accepted ritual for occasions such as this, father and son held their weapons aloft, so that the shadows thus cast fell across their eyes. Pal-Lal hopped busily about from foot to foot as if the ground were burning the soles of his feet. Ri-Ri-Kut had no idea if that was the proper way for a shaman to comport himself at a time such as this, but considering the nature of shamans it was most likely that the proper way to behave right now was improperly, and Pal-Lal was even more contrary than most of his kind.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/PygMeet1.jpg)
Suddenly, moving with a fleetness and grace the pygmies could only wonder at, Ta-Dino-Po arrived before them. He wore head and chest-adornments that glinted in the sunlight, and his green flesh (all the new gods were green) shined as if Ta-Dino-Po had only just emerged from water. Perhaps he had? Chief Ri-Ri-Kut waggled his bone-shafted, stone axe about in greeting, and was watched by the unblinking deity.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/PygMeet3.jpg)
After a few moments, and just as his arm was beginning to ache, the chief decided that was enough and ceased his efforts. Trying to look humble and subservient, he studied his master for a clue as to what he was to do next. Usually this would be to listen, but the living god did not seem to be in the mood for talking. Then it occurred to Ri-Ri-Kut that Ta-Dino-Po was not looking at him, but behind him - staring at something in the Sacred Garden perhaps? Realising the gorillagors had simultaneously fallen silent, the chief experienced a surge of nervous anticipation and slowly turned around to see what had caught the god’s and monstrous gorillas’ attention. Every other Inni-ano warrior did the same, until the whole tribe was looking at a new arrival in the garden of the gods.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/PygMeet4-1.jpg)
It was the greatest god of all, the mighty father Doh-Oda-Toh, floating magically and majestically above the ground on a platform of Goflainga wood, framed by a standard fashioned from two monstrous pairs of wings and guarded by his fabled Gorilla Guard. Every warrior felt paralysed, as if curare had entered their blood, for only the very oldest amongst them had ever seen the high god himself. Now the entire fighting strength of the Inni-ano tribe understood just how important this day was - the war they rumours told of was real, and perhaps even news of the death of Ta-Dino-Po’s siblings was true. Only such calamitous events could require the personal attention of Doh-Oda-Toh.
The Gorilla Guard, so rare a sight as to have made the youngest warriors doubt their very existence, were divided into two cohorts, one before and one behind the god’s platform. Their weapons’ cutting edges were made not of flint, but of viciously sharp teeth dug out of the mouths of ancient swamp monsters that had long since ceased to live in the world. Their shields were more humble, yet even they were studded with the hardened bone of legendary animals.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/PygMeet5.jpg)
Doh-Oda-Toh’s platform was adorned at its front by a solid gold dragon statue, which although the size of a pygmy was dwarfed by the bulk of the god himself. His battle standard, the design of which had been carved into rocks by the entrances to nearly every pygmy village in the realm, was made of the wings of a giant parrot (considered the god of most jungle birds) and those of a now extinct species of terradon. Of course it made sense that a flying platform would sport such decorations.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/PygMeet6.jpg)
Doh-Oda-Toh looked upon his worshippers with all three of his eyes. None amongst the pygmies could know if he was pleased or not, but his spawn, the larval slann Tadinopo, could see that he was momentarily satisfied.
Hopefully, thought Tadinopo, the other tribes would put up just as good a showing. And hopefully the resultant army would be sufficient to the task ahead.
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This afternoon, in my gaming room, Pirate Admiral Bartholomeus Pasterkamp and his surviving Tabrizian pirates fought against the living god (slann) Doh-Oda-To and his Pygmy and Gorilla tribes. The battle took place at the Tabrizians' hastily fortified encampment in a crook of the river.
Once the photographs are worked up, and the story begun, the report will be posted.
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Its great that you've returned to this! Cahcoo! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
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Say, is that the Forgeworld Gamesday Slann miniature which gave General Helstrom the creeps back in 2006? I think it is!
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Say, is that the Forgeworld Gamesday Slann miniature which gave General Helstrom the creeps back in 2006? I think it is!
DamoB would know - he sold it to me. It is a resin figure, if that helps you decide?
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Battle of the River Fort
It had been a hard slog back to the river-side encampment for the Tabrizians, the effort of wading knee deep through miles of swampland combining with the ever present threat of renewed attack by Galdabash’s living dead army (its ranks no doubt now reinforced by their own recently fallen comrades). When they finally reached their destination each and every pirate experienced a profound sense of relief - the fortified encampment was still there, still intact, the boats and smaller ships of the fleet moored by the river side.
One or two of the hardier, greedier, most foolhardy men and dwarfs amongst them were still thinking of the fabled city of gold that they had come here to find, but the vast majority were simply glad to be alive. More than half would have been happy if the fleet captains now voted to cut their losses and return to Tabriz - but none spoke that thought aloud.
While the expeditionary force had been splashing through the swamps, the men left behind had worked some more upon its fortifications. A crescent of storm-poles now defended its gate, which combined with the cannon muzzles trained on the same spot should provide for a brutal welcome for any enemy who tried to enter that way. More storm-poles decorated the slopes of a hill to one side …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBatConstruction2.jpg)
… and a raised, palisaded platform had been constructed behind the gate to mount the most reliable artillery piece and thus provide a clear view of the entire stretch of land leading to the fort.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBatConstruction1.jpg)
Many of the trees closest to the palisade had been felled, not only to provide the wood necessary for the work, but also to ensure less cover in which enemies could hide.
Now Admiral Pasterkamp’s Tabrizians were re-united. His total force was as follows:
Pasterkamp's Remaining Force (Empire List, DoW as Rare, 2019 points)
Bartholomeus Pasterkamp (Lord), General, Pistol, Sword of Power, Jade Amulet
Captain Wilfrid Mostert Pistol, Talisman of Endurance
Old Codgel, Chirurgeon (Battle Wizard, Level 2), Dispel Scroll
25 Pasterkamp's Crew (Free Company), Full Command
25 Mostert's Crew (Free Company), Full Command
22 Thodrin Hookhand's Slayer Pirates (Slayer Pirates, Dogs of War )
25 Zazzari Marwan's Arabyan Swordsmen (Swordsmen), Full Command
with Detachment of 10 Crossbowmen
10 Estalian Handgunners
10 Pirate Handgunners
10 Maroon Handgunners
4 Leadbelchers with Thunderfist (Dogs of War)
2 Cannons (smaller variety)
1 Mortar
The Tabrizians were very right to fear what might come from the jungle, yet although there was indeed an enemy closing in on them, it was not the one they expected. Galdabash was still miles away, busy re-mustering his shambling army. Much closer, and moving through the swamp as only those born and bred in such an environment could do, was the army of the Living God Do-Oda-Toh.
The ancient Slann, long since abandoned by the other surviving Slann in this world, had (with the help of his spawn priest Tadinopo) summoned an army the like of which he had not gathered in decades. He had done so with some understanding of what they were to face, for he had seen off such raiders before - seafaring northmen with firesticks and gleaming blades of some hardened metal of their own devising. He was not so foolish as to underestimate them, yet he was wholly confident that the force he had gathered was able to defeat them in battle.
Do-Oda-Toh's Army (Legal Lizardman Army, 2552 pts)
Doh-Oda-Toh (The Focused Rumination, Unfathomable Presence, Soul of Stone, Focus of Mystery( (Lore = Life)
Gorilla Scar-Veteran with Piranha Blade
Tadinopo (Priest) - Level 2, Dispel Scroll
Chief Si-Ta-Pon of the Putoo on Stegadon with Stegadon War-Spear
24 Inni-ano Pygmy Boar Riders (c/a Saurus Warriors), full command
17 Putoo Pygmy Skirmishers, Blowpipes, Brave
17 To-otinak Pygmy Skirmishers, Blowpipes, Brave
24 Inni-ano Pygmy Warriors, full command, 3 Gorillagor (c/a Kroxigor)
21 Gorilla Temple Guard, full command
4 Putoo Terradon Riders, Brave
3 Salamanders (each one operating separately), 12 To-otinak Pygmy Handlers
The battlefield
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat1.jpg)
Deployment
Doh-Oda-Toh kept his real fighting strength (Boar Riders, Temple Guard and Gorillagors) together on the centre-right, while a body of Pygmy Skirmishers backed up by Salamanders sneaked up on the right. Chief Si-Ta-Pon of the Putoo, riding upon his mighty Stegadon, had been momentarily delayed, but the Slann knew he was close behind and would arrive in moments. (Game Note: I forgot to place my Stegadon! It makes its appearance during the battle however!)
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat2.jpg)
The Tabrizians manned their defences as best they could. On their left Wilfrid Mostert led his crewmen to lend support to Marwan’s Arabyan swordsmen. The Leadbelchers stood with loaded cannon barrels by the gateway, while Thodrin Hookhand had ensured that his men would definitely fight this time by placing himself in the gateway itself.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat3.jpg)
Admiral Pasterkamp positioned his own men on the far right, near to the mortar, and flanking the three companies of handgunners. The latter were hoping that anything approaching the gate would be subject to a withering hail of shot.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat4.jpg)
Sitting nonchalantly on his wooden platform, his Gorilla Guard grunting and snorting beneath him, Doh-Oda-To pondered. Of course, this was no different to any other time, for he was always pondering. Now, however, he was pondering what he might actually do when he stopped pondering and started weaving magics.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat6.jpg)
Admiral Pasterkamp was engaged in a species of ‘pondering’ too, though his was laced with fear and confusion, which made the thoughts somewhat more tangled the those of the Slann. He faced a strange and unexpected enemy - tiny native warriors, perhaps children, or perhaps some kind of Southlands’ halfling? If that were all then he might be laughing right now, but they had gorillas with them, vicious looking brutes, some of giant proportions. Worse still reptilian monsters were scattered through their ranks, with another (much bigger than the ones he could see) apparently crashing through the vegetation behind. And strangest of all they seemed to be commanded by a massive, bloated frog lolling on an airborne raft sporting a standard fashioned from giant wings.
This, he had to admit, he had not seen coming.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat5.jpg)
Battle to follow. Anyone care to bet who will win. Points unbalanced, but Pirates have defences.
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Pirates will win, but the slann will be brutal in this game I think.
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Thanks for guessing, cisse. Here's part two. BTW, wanna change your mind?
Battle: Turns 1 and 2
From the mutterings during the retreat back to the fort, Pasterkamp should have known what Thodrin Hookhand and his company were going to do next. He had ordered the Dwarf to guard the gate - who better to do so? But Thodrin and his frustrated warriors had been so annoyed by the sweltering heat and the frustrations of the march that they now began to move out of the camp towards the first foe they sighted. Or, hoped Pasterkamp, maybe they were just moving up to make best defensive use of the storm-poles? That would be much more helpful than a foolish thrust for glory, but something told him it was unlikely.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat7.jpg)
Well, let the dwarfs take the brunt of the fight if that’s what they wish, he decided. Being little men, perhaps they were perfect for the role of Les Enfants Perdus? Meanwhile, he would have his pirates unleash a volley of lead and iron shot. Let’s see what these jungle primitives make of that!
First came two blasts from his artillery, sending a mortar shell to bring down four of the gorillas guarding the monstrous frog, and a cannon ball at the same regiment. Pasterkamp could have sworn that the ball hit the giant frog square on, green-tinged blood spattering across the now splintered platform upon which the creature sat. Yet, when he looked a moment later, the frog was still lounging on its floating platform, which would surely be impossible if it had been hit. Nothing could survive a cannon ball in its gut. Surely?
(Game Note: Pasterkamp was not mistaken. Amateur Lizard-player that I am, I had given the Slann no ward save or any such similar thing, and he promptly failed his ‘Look out Sir’. If the dice had come up a 5 or 6 then he would have been killed in turn one! Luckily a 3 was rolled which bought me time, not least to start looking up Life magic to see what I could do about a grievously injured general. I was pleased to see that Life magic was very much up to the job of putting things right!)
Next should come the sound of musketry, but there was nothing. Of course, Pasterkamp quickly realised, the enemy were still out of range of his handgunners and the conservation of precious powder was a consideration upon all his pirates’ minds. Similarly, there was no sign that Old Codgel, his wizardly ship’s surgeon, had managed to summon up any magic (cast:dispel = 3:2. Attempted spell stopped).
It seemed, thought Pasterkamp, they would have to allow the enemy to approach a little closer before they could loose a real storm.
And the enemy did just that, coming on right across the field. Their flying reptiles, faster than the marching warriors beneath them, arced over the two large regiments on the right to swoop down before them - as if they had a mind to annoy Wilfrid Mostert particularly. Three huge gorillas, even larger than the Tabrizian ogres, moved forwards towards Thodrin’s dwarfs while a swarm of pygmy warriors with flint-tipped spears and shields fashioned from a weave of grassy strands surged maniacally around their feet.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat8.jpg)
Behind all this a horned lizard bigger than a Southlands’ elephant stamped through the vegetation, with even more pygmies running ahead of it as well as riding a howdah upon its back.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat10.jpg)
On the jungle army’s left even more pygmies, armed with blowpipes and nothing more, came on in a crowd, with two green, scaly creatures as big as the Empire’s biggest kine being driven along behind them by yet more little warriors.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat9.jpg)
Suddenly the air seemed to thicken and sparkle at one and the same time, making the hairs on the back of Pasterkamp’s neck stand up. There was magic afoot, and it was of a kind far more powerful than Old Codgel’s cantrips and conjurings. (Magic @ 9:6) Some instinct told Pasterkamp that the ‘frog’ was the source of this new danger. He was not wrong.
Da-Oda-Toh, the father god, formed several magical intentions in his mind, married each to a fuelling eddy from the winds of magic and let them flow in quick succession into reality. Two spells, Earth Blood and Re-growth, were dissipated by the foe (dispelled and scrolled), but two more, the invigorating Throne of Vines and the protective Flesh to Stone, could not be stopped. Both he and his Temple Guard were now unnaturally tough, and better still, he had healed himself simply by bringing the spells into being (Game Note: 2W regained).
All this happened while Do-Oda-Toh moved not an inch nor even flinched. Such was the potency of his mastery of magic.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat11.jpg)
As Pasterkamp had guessed, the dwarfs could not restrain their bloodlust and burst between the storm-poles and smashed into the oncoming regiment of giant gorillas and pygmies. Thodrin, pistol in one hand, hook for the other, shot the Pygmy leader in the front rank in the throat, then brought his hook up to catch the dying champion by the chin before he fell, then tossed him up into the air like nothing more than a sack of plantains. His Slayer Pirates were no less ferocious in their own attacks and slew seven more pygmies. Although the pygmies could find no means of harming the dwarfs, the giant gorillas had less trouble and tore three of the stout slayers in two. But numbers favoured the pygmies, most of which (being behind the massive gorillagors) could not even see what butchery was going on ahead of them, and the little jungle warriors fought on.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat12.jpg)
While this melee was in full swing, the leadbelchers, perhaps unwilling to have such little men outdo them, also strode boldly from the defences and out towards the foe. What they could not know, nor even suspect, but the spawn of a living god was watching them from the jungle trees ahead - Tadinopo himself looked at them curiously. Grey, monstrous northmen carrying huge, hollowed tree trunks, he thought. Odd.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat13.jpg)
Old Codgel now managed to harness the winds of magic to his service, sending an irresistibly powered fireball sputtering and smoking at the Temple Guard. Two more of the gorillas now died, their fur burning and giving off a most noisome stench. But so powerful was his summoning that he could not encompass all the magical energies he had conjured, and the resultant ripple of energies that burst out from his person killed four the corsair crossbowmen stood with him. All he could do was apologise to the survivors, but none really understood what he said, nor what exactly had happened. They were discouraged, yes, but not enough to flee. Instead they lifted their loaded crossbows and let loose a volley, though to little effect. Thus was up to the many gunpowder weapons to deal out death.
First the cannons fired - or at least one did for once again the other misfired. Two more Temple Guard gorillas fell. The mortar crew, seeing the skirmishing crowd of pygmies as an irresistibly ‘soft’ target launched their deadly grenado accordingly. Thirteen of the jungle warriors died in the explosion, then the last four (absolutely terrified by what had just, quite inexplicably, happened) fled the field never to return …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat14.jpg)
A total of eighteen handgunners took aim at the exactly similar pygmy mob moving through the trees in the centre of the field (the ones with a skinny, two legged lizard at the front), but could not make their bullets effective as the foe was too far away and too well hidden by the greenery. The Estalian handgunners did at least take down one of the little handlers driving the suspiciously smoking scaly lizards.
Suddenly the terradons were in the air again, flying right over Wilfrid Mostert’s men rather than charging them. Releasing rocks as the did so, they killed six pirates, then came to rest once more right on river edge at the Tabrizian’s flank.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat16.jpg)
The rest of the jungle army moved up once more to close the gap between them and the northmen. While Tadinopo stayed within the protective canopy of the jungle trees, the skirmishers left him and moved boldly forwards …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat17.jpg)
… right in front of the cannon-carrying ogres. Lifted their blowpipes to the lips, twice in quick succession, they spat out a deadly rain of poisoned darts. Peppered from head to toe with the tiny but deadly missiles, two of the ogres fell paralysed to the ground! How could the ogres have known just how deadly a foe they faced? The last two survivors could only growl their anger at such a turn of events, a growl that was made considerably quieter when one of the pair also fell as a cloud of belched flame erupted from the scaly, green lizard being poked forwards at the skirmishers’ side.
The last ogre really was angry now!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat19.jpg)
On the far left of the jungle army’s line, the other Salamanders were nothing like as effective. One sent a ball of fire to fall short of Pasterkamp’s crew, while the other chose instead to kill two of it’s own handlers.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat20.jpg)
Peacefully, with barely a flick of his finger and a blink of his eye, Do-Oda-Toh once more wove magic all about him. First he blessed himself with Throne of Vines so that nearly all his subsequent spells would magnify in effect, then he wounded the last Ogre (but not killing him) with Awakening of the Wood, cast Earthblood on himself and his guard, and then Flesh to Stone on the Gorillagors and the Pygmies. In the process, he fully healed himself of all the harm the cannon ball had done.
Now the Dwarfen Slayers suddenly found the foe somewhat harder to kill (Game Note: Pygmies = T6, Gorillagors = T8!). So much harder, in fact, that the dwarfs failed even to scratch the foe, though four of their own number were battered into the ground. Such odds failed to dismay the dwarfs - in fact they grew yet more determined. This fight, completely one sided as it had now become, would go on. (Game Note:Unbreakable as they are really ‘Long Drong’s Slayer Pirates’ as per DoW list).
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat15.jpg)
End of Turn 2.
Rest to follow as soon as I find more time, oh, and presuming you guys are interested.
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That is one cool looking battle field! :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
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Told ya the slann would be brutal! :wink:
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Where did you get the pymies from, Padre?
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This is one threadomancy I am glad to see :biggriin:
My bet is on the jungle halflings! I just hope they don't lose so many men that they can't beat back the zombies!
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Thanks for the comments guys.
@ Newguy - company called 'Kallistra'. I like 'em. Go to http://www.kallistra.co.uk/ and look at 28mm fantasy.
Final Part of the Battle at the River Fort
While Mostert turned his regimented ship’s company to face the screeching, reptilian flyers, every other Tabrizian company held their position, although the arabyan swordsmen did shift over a little towards Mostert’s band. Old Codgel the wizardly surgeon failed to command any magical harm or benefit from the etheric breeze. When the cannons fired they too failed to hurt the foe, for one ball fell short while the other could not harm the magically protected gorillas. The mortar and crossbows proved ineffective too. The last surviving leadbelcher, perhaps realising this would be his last act in this world, fired his own sangranel-charged cannon at the same regiment, and did manage to kill one. Such a weight of powder and shot, and only one gorilla felled. Many a Tabrizian pirate noticed this, and a new nervousness began to spread through their ranks like wildfire.
Thodrin’s Slayers fought on as only they could, three pygmies dying for the cost of two dwarfs, and although somewhat ‘occupied’ with the fight, several dwarfs did begin to wonder if the Tabrizian men were going to contribute anything to this fight beyond blasting away with firearms.
There was a momentary lull in the rolling thunder that was the Tabrizian’s gunfire, and a piercing whistle was heard from the jungle army, a sound which sent four of their fighting units charging forwards. Two failed to reach their targets - the Temple Guard and Pygmy boar riders aiming at the pirates on the hill. But the other two did hit home - the Terradons engaging the crossbows in their flank …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat18.jpg)
… and the huge Stegadon crashing into Thodrin’s already hard-pressed dwarfs. The mighty beast crushed five dwarfs before it had even employed its horns and teeth. Chief Si-Ta-Pon of the Putoo hurled a javelin into the skull of another, his fellow crewmen killing two more. Finally, even though one of the gorillagors was finally dispatched by the slayers, yet more dwarfs fell to the stegadon and gorillagors’ attacks, until only Thodrin and two of his comrades were left. The Stegadon now threw itself upwards to then smash down both its forelegs, crushing Thodrin himself into a pulpy mesh and pressing his ruining body into the soft earth.
Now one Slayer stood alone against the jungle monsters!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat22.jpg)
It would be blasphemy among the pygmy tribes to say what I am about to write, but seeing his army thrive in the fight, the great living god Do-Oda-Toh was getting ‘cocky’, an attitude which led to carelessness. He first conjured Flesh to Stone to protect his Pygmies and Gorillagors (hoping to reduce the harm which must surely come to them when three bodies of ‘firestick’ northmen surely shoot upon them). But then he tried a weakly powered spell, thinking thus to sap the foe’s magical defences, but forgetting the turmoil that would be caused if his weak spell failed. It did fail, and his concentration was so broken that he lost his mental grip on the winds of magic and could cast nothing else for a while.
The skirmishing pygmies in the centre of the field laughed as they peppered the last ogre with so many darts that he was dead before he hit the ground. Their laughter was echoed upon the left, as although one Salamander chose to consume three of his four handlers, the other belched such a spurt of fire that ten - yes, ten - of Pasterkamp’s crew died screaming horribly as the liquid fire burned through their flesh. The sound of it, the stench of it, the sight of it - all proved overwhelming for the rest, and they fled as fast as their legs could carry them, Pasterkamp joining them enthusiastically to lead the way!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat21.jpg)
Out upon the other side of the fort, the Terradons slaughtered every crossbowman, Old Codgel amongst them, and hopped nimbly forwards to charge into the crew of the mortar.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat23.jpg)
The crew surely had no chance? What with the enemy closing in all around them, even behind them, Zazzari Marwan’s sword and shield carrying corsairs decided that they might as well push on and attempted to charge the gorillas guarding the platform seated frog-monster, but they failed to reach, hampered (perhaps) by defences their own allies had constructed. The fleet admiral was still running towards the moored boats, with no intention of returning to the fight (Game Note: Failed to rally). Captain Wilfrid Mostert, entirely unaware of Pasterkamp’s flight, turned his men once again, this time to face the oncoming regiment of pygmy boar riders.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat24.jpg)
Chief Si-Ta-Pon had killed the last of Thodrin’s Slayers, while the mortar crew had been torn limb from limb by the Terradons. The flying lizards with their pygmy riders now swooped between the hills heading towards their next target - another war machine …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat25.jpg)
… the crew of which stood in utter confusion, for it seemed to them (even their comical little powder monkey) that there was nothing at all they could do. Death, painful and certain, was coming their way …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat32.jpg)
This was the mood along the entire Tabrizian line, with every pirate now thinking how they might escape, for fighting on was simply not a realistic option. When the jungle army launched another series of charges, the real flight began. First the swordsmen fled as the Temple Guard and the smoking-mouthed salamander came at them …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat26.jpg)
… but the scaly, green beast caught up with them and began tearing them to pieces.
Off to the flank, Mostert also ordered flight when the boar riders also charged …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat27.jpg)
… while in the centre of the field the Stegadon, Gorillagors and skirmishers swarmed at the gate.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat28.jpg)
Now taking his time to bring about the magics he wanted, the slann Do-Oda-Toh employed Dwellers Below to kill fourteen of Mostert’s fleeing pirates, then Awakening of the Wood to kill another four. So fast was Mostert running, however, that in truth he failed to notice that behind him only his standard bearer was left alive!
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat29.jpg)
In their own ways, both armies’ commanders now looked to keeping their forces as strong as they could. While the slann Lord magically healed three of his Temple Guard, hauling them back over the boundary dividing life and death before they had passed too far away, Admiral Pasterkamp shouted encouragement to his fleeing pirates so that they might board ship and be off without the slightest delay.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat30.jpg)
On the far right of the broken Tabrizian defences two dwarfen matrosses and their gunner stood by the mortar. One dwarf was holding a cloth to his bleeding right ear, the other was lifting a grenado towards the mortar’s muzzle, while the gunner stared blankly at what was coming their way.
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat33.jpg)
It took only a moment for the hopelessness of the situation to sick in, then they too joined the general flight towards the river and the boats.
End of Turn 4. Victory to the Jungle Pygmies.
Game Note:Thank you Tom for providing a commander for the foe. I suppose you wish you had picked the pygmies for this game, now? Still, good game, good story.
BTW, wanna see what a ‘real’ casualty looks like? Prepare yourself, for this is an upsetting sight for any miniature wargamer …
(http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i49/padrissimus/TabRivBat31.jpg)
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OUCH! Always hurts to see that. Hope the medics can put it back together.
Great report and photos! Thanks for reviving this story.