Author Topic: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project  (Read 49153 times)

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #175 on: March 07, 2010, 01:39:28 PM »
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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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

Offline Finlay

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #176 on: March 07, 2010, 07:27:35 PM »
Great story, with great pictures and narration, as per usual.
Cheers Padre!
I don't care about the rules.

Pass the machete.

Offline Von Kurst

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #177 on: March 08, 2010, 03:03:40 AM »
Great report!  I am amazed that the light cav did anything.  I suspect treachery in the dwarven ranks...
“Why is the rum always gone?” -Captain Jack Sparrow
"It is, it is a glorious thing To be a Pirate King."
 -Gilbert, Sir W(illiam) S(chwenck)

Offline GamesPoet

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #178 on: March 08, 2010, 03:36:22 AM »
I like the fire wall modeled with the cotton! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
"Not all who wander are lost ... " Tolkien

"The beauty of curiosity and creativity is so much more useful than the passion of fear." me

"... my old suggestion is forget it, take two aspirins and go paint" steveb

"No them, only us."  U2

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #179 on: March 21, 2010, 03:13:18 PM »
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.”

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.

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

Offline GamesPoet

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #180 on: March 21, 2010, 03:29:58 PM »
The lady friend said goblins wouldn't make that nice of a boat.  I said they probably stole it.  She giggled. :icon_cool:
"Not all who wander are lost ... " Tolkien

"The beauty of curiosity and creativity is so much more useful than the passion of fear." me

"... my old suggestion is forget it, take two aspirins and go paint" steveb

"No them, only us."  U2

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #181 on: March 29, 2010, 08:03:49 PM »
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?


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.”       


The Field of Battle

The Forces.

The Tabrizian Pirates (Empire, 2239 Pts)

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)   

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.

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.

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?
« Last Edit: March 29, 2010, 08:10:26 PM by Padre »
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline Timbor

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #182 on: March 30, 2010, 12:34:15 AM »
Ooh! Sounds like fun!  My bet is on the living - especially since they have slayer pirates!
If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason. - J.H.

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Offline Von Kurst

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #183 on: March 30, 2010, 02:46:58 AM »
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!
“Why is the rum always gone?” -Captain Jack Sparrow
"It is, it is a glorious thing To be a Pirate King."
 -Gilbert, Sir W(illiam) S(chwenck)

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #184 on: April 02, 2010, 09:08:02 PM »
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?

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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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

Offline Von Kurst

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #185 on: April 03, 2010, 12:57:23 AM »
That trick never works!   More!
“Why is the rum always gone?” -Captain Jack Sparrow
"It is, it is a glorious thing To be a Pirate King."
 -Gilbert, Sir W(illiam) S(chwenck)

Offline GamesPoet

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #186 on: April 03, 2010, 12:16:54 PM »
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?
"Not all who wander are lost ... " Tolkien

"The beauty of curiosity and creativity is so much more useful than the passion of fear." me

"... my old suggestion is forget it, take two aspirins and go paint" steveb

"No them, only us."  U2

Offline Von Kurst

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #187 on: April 03, 2010, 12:28:22 PM »
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...
“Why is the rum always gone?” -Captain Jack Sparrow
"It is, it is a glorious thing To be a Pirate King."
 -Gilbert, Sir W(illiam) S(chwenck)

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #188 on: April 03, 2010, 07:24:45 PM »
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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.     

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?

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.

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.

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 …

… 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.

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

Offline Von Kurst

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #189 on: April 04, 2010, 02:08:37 AM »
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.
“Why is the rum always gone?” -Captain Jack Sparrow
"It is, it is a glorious thing To be a Pirate King."
 -Gilbert, Sir W(illiam) S(chwenck)

Offline Inarticulate

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #190 on: April 16, 2010, 07:59:39 PM »
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!
I for one welcome our new flying cat overlords.

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #191 on: April 24, 2011, 08:02:41 PM »
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #192 on: April 30, 2011, 04:56:06 PM »
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.
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline GamesPoet

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #193 on: April 30, 2011, 05:07:00 PM »
Its great that you've returned to this!  Cahcoo! :icon_biggrin: :::cheers:::
"Not all who wander are lost ... " Tolkien

"The beauty of curiosity and creativity is so much more useful than the passion of fear." me

"... my old suggestion is forget it, take two aspirins and go paint" steveb

"No them, only us."  U2

Offline Gneisenau

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #194 on: April 30, 2011, 05:08:52 PM »
Say, is that the Forgeworld Gamesday Slann miniature which gave General Helstrom the creeps back in 2006? I think it is!

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #195 on: April 30, 2011, 07:20:43 PM »
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?
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #196 on: May 01, 2011, 10:29:33 AM »
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 …

… 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.

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


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!)

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.

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.

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.

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.

Battle to follow. Anyone care to bet who will win. Points unbalanced, but Pirates have defences.
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline cisse

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #197 on: May 02, 2011, 11:07:27 AM »
Pirates will win, but the slann will be brutal in this game I think.

No matter how fast you run, your ass will always be in front of me...

Offline Padre

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #198 on: May 04, 2011, 08:25:21 PM »
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 …

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.

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 …

… 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!

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.

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).

End of Turn 2.

Rest to follow as soon as I find more time, oh, and presuming you guys are interested.
Photobucket has now re-destroyed my pictures, so the first half of my collected works thread is no longer working again. To see my website version of the campaign thread, with fully functioning pictures, please go to https://bigsmallworlds.com/

Offline GamesPoet

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Re: 'All that Glistens' - A Story/Bat Rep Project
« Reply #199 on: May 04, 2011, 08:41:53 PM »
That is one cool looking battle field! :eusa_clap: :::cheers:::
"Not all who wander are lost ... " Tolkien

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