Dangerous Brian: A Wargaming Blog

War of the Burning Sky

2009-07-24T23:01:00.003Z

I've just begun running a version of the commercial D&D campaign, "War of the Burning Sky", created for 4th edition by EN Publishing; albiet heavily adapted to my own game world.

Very kindly one of my players (my dearly beloved) has been keeping a character journal, written in the words of her own character, the Elf Druidess, Dara.

More detailed information on the characters will be forthcoming, but for now here's a very brief list.

Player/Character:

Brian- DM

Caroline- Dara- Female Elf Druid

Coakley- Aramil- Male Eladrin Warlord

Niall- Sonea- Female Human Wizard

Ri- Shadow Dancer- Male Eladrin Avenger

Rob- Torthen- Male Dwarf Paladin

NPC- Torrent- Female Human Cleric

As for the events of the first session; Dara writes:

Good day gentlemen, and of course ladies,

following the fighting of yesterday I would like to present to you the record I have kept so far of our adventure. I hope you will find it pleasing. If you feel I have been innaccurate in any way please feel free to bring it to my attention. I do not wish to misinterpret anybodies actions.

Best Wishes

Dara Salix Castanea

It’s New Year’s Eve and snow lies thick on ground. Tomorrow is the festival of dreams. However no one is really in a festive mood as Gate Pass is currently under siege by an augmented legion from the Arcane Imperium. The city is in lock down to prevent enemies entering and magic users leaving.

Gate Pass sits in the mountains that separate the countries of Imperium and Zama.

We are all members of the resistance, dedicated to keeping Gate Pass free. As each of us arrives home we find a coded message. It instructs us to arrive at the Poison Apple Pub. We find the streets are uncommonly quiet and almost deserted, strange as they should be full of revellers.

Each of us arrives at the pub of our own accord. On the main door we find a sign from the city guard advising that the pub landlord has been taken into custody and that the premise is closed until further notice. In the alley along the side of the pub there gleams a crack of light emanating from a side door to the Poison Apple, sitting slightly ajar.

Upon entering we find a woman wearing clerical vestements displaying the symbol of Martha. Martha- a goddess of communities, alliances, negotiations and protection. Though usually peaceful she believes in protecting the home with might if needed.

Looking around the pub we find it dark. All the furniture is packed against the wall, covered in dust sheets, except for one table which sits out with some chairs, a keg and mugs. The building is one storey, unusual in this city, but then again it is a pub and one storey buildings in Gate Pass are more often than not Pubs and/or shops. It possesses small deep set windows which even a child would struggle to fit through. It also looks most like the kind of establishment the working man frequents.

The woman introduces herself as Torrent and gestures to the keg and mugs. Inviting us to drink to the New Year, which is almost upon us. Most of the party happily obliges and most settle into chairs to enjoy the brew. Some of the guests are more cordial than others and some more observant. The small windows are shuttered and barred. [Shadow hunter is not present at this point]

Soon the more perceptive of the gathering (Torthen, Dara, and Sonea) hear the distant sound of bells tolling for the New Year. Torrent smiles a rueful smile and utters a mirthless ‘Well let’s drink to a New Year’. Dara raises her mug while Sonea with a smile sounds a greeting to everyone. ‘May your dreams be fruitful’, a traditional New Year’s greeting.

Torrent begins to fill them in on what’s been happening and why they have been called.

During this they glean that the mission for tonight is to meet one of Torrents contacts at a depositary nearby. The contact is a gnome named Badger who will have a case for us to collect. We will then need to get ourselves out of the city and head for the Lyceum.

Much discussion ensues over how exactly we can get out of the city. Some interesting suggestions crop up however Torrent puts forward one of her own. She is still quite unsure how to get out but once out of the city she asks that we head for the forest of fire- Innondottar- a forest which has been burning in magical flame for over 20 years. She has borrowed a kit of various potions from her sisters at the temple that will help against the difficulties of traversing such terrain.

During the past small while of conversation Dara has been hearing strange noises but now has heard the distinctive thud of leather landing on boards.

Quickly Dara interrupts the discussion and in a level voice says ‘Not to scare anyone here but I believe we have visitors’ she points above to the ceiling.

Instantly and almost all at once, two people fall out of the trap door above. A loud bang erupts from a fire bomb engulfing the roof with other explosions going off near and far.

The two scout assailants drop down behind the bar.

Tactical encounter.

The attackers shout ‘Nobody move!’

The smallest of the duo hurls a small ‘stone’ at the table the party sits at. Unfortunately for the intruders it doesn’t get far at all, in fact it fumbles to land at their own feet. Banging with the ROAR of a clap of thunder. Unfortunately for the party the scouts seem unaffected by the explosion and both have crossbows, one actually trained on the party themselves.

The larger attacker shouts ‘Don’t move!’ and gives his companion an aggrieved glance.

By now it is apparent that the roof and crawl space is on fire.

Aramil leaps on to the nearest table but skids along on spilled beer, falling off and back onto his feet like a cat. He recovers with speed and moves for the bar.

Outside is heard a voice ‘Ignore the explosions that’s the signal! Move in!’

Dogs begin to bark and bay outside as the thudding crash and boom of a ram hits the front door and shocks dust and burning embers from the ceiling. The door is almost off its hinges.

Sonea attacks the scouts with acid arrow. The bar shields them somewhat but not enough for they get a spray of painful burning acid.

Dara flies for the table but misses, recovering she takes aim for the scout at the bar. He ducks but not long enough for she catches him with an arrow as he rises again.

Torrent raises her hammer into the air and calls a prayer. Ball lightning envelopes the party members giving them extra protection from their armour like a holy blessing. Torrent shifts a bit to a new position.

Torthen bolts round the bar in a bid to axe the assailants in more ways than one. He takes a mighty swing with his battle axe at them but they duck back and sneer in retort.

The small scout drops his crossbow and takes a swing at Torthen with his morning star spiked club. The taller tries the same but misses.

Aramil moves round behind the other end of the bar. He calls on wolf pack tactics and swings at the tallest scout with his long sword bloodying him.

The thundering noise of hooves draws close outside. The dogs grow louder and more fervent, closer too. The ram hits home smack centre on the door bursting it off its hinges and into the centre of the room. Through the masonry dust and wood chips can be seen a recruit dropping the ram. Another recruit and a thug can be seen outside too. With a man on horseback shouting orders. He’s wearing the plate mail armour of an Imperial officer, with a raven sitting on his shoulder, and a helmet on his belt- a helmet that has been split in two.

Sonea cries out ‘Friend or foe?’

‘Friend!’ comes the questionable reply from the recruit.

Sonea believes him. Swinging round ( turning her back on the new arrivals in the process) she uses Gabal’s superior missile aimed at the two behind the bar. Missiles scream out and hit their fated targets.

Dara in turns wings one of the scouts with an arrow loosed from her long bow. Successful she swings her precious friend over her back and pulls out her long staff ready for the oncoming hand-to-hand.

The recruits enter through the now empty doorway.

Torrent shouts a warning of ‘Don’t trust them!’ while attempting to strike with her hammer but missing the quick targets.

Dara swings round to crack them with her staff but misses as they duck quickly past.

Torthen uses a divine challenge to mark out the scout who looks like he’s failing. He then swings his axe straight through the scout next to him. Stepping over the mass of gore and meat he moves closer towards his other victim.

Sparks and timber crash down onto tables nearby as part of the roof caves in.

Outside the man on horseback passes on a message to his men and dogs in the alley- the side door is blocked.

The lonely scout though bloodied himself still manages to do the same to Aramil with his morning star. Aramil returns the favour with a swing from his long sword rendering the final scout dead beside his companion. Aramil leaves the bar and mounts a table to give himself a better position.

Above him outwith his knowledge a pair of eyes observes the scene keenly. Shadow Dancer leans out from the cover of the chimney stack and takes sight on the horseman. *click* the bolt fails to fire. With some select obscenities he swings back into the shadows and moves to another corner of the rooftop.

The thug outside shouts at the recruits ‘Get the hell out my way.’

Sonea shifts sideways past a table to allow her to hit the thug outside square in the chest with empowered lightning. Unsurprisingly he gets blown back a bit.

Dara tries to hit the recruit nearest with her staff but she is finding it hard with all the obstacles and commotion.

The other recruit attacks Torrent and hits home.

The recruits know what’s best for them and move to allow their seeming employer, the thug, in.

Torrent moves round to the doorway to block the entry of the thug and tries to attack the recruit nearest but fails.

Torthen moves towards the fighting. He calls out a divine challenge against a recruit. ‘When you get to Harrum tell him Torthen sent you!’Swinging a valiant strike with his battleaxe the recruit is dispatched to the otherworld.

Aramil slides past Torrent and out the door. He enables a concentrated attack so allowing Sonea a free attack with her Superior magic missiles.

(Out Of Turn- Free action) Sonea lifts her wand of accuracy and fires Gabal’s superior missiles. A missile misses a recruit as he ducks but the thug is blown to eternity.

Outside unknown to anyone but themselves and Shadow Dancer; three dogs and two men (a thug and a recruit) come round the corner of one of the other buildings.

Shadow Dancer removes the debris which had become jammed in the crossbow mechanism and takes aim again, determined to hit his quarry. Aiming at the horse the bolt flies free and true burying into the rump. A scream is heard from horse and rider as the animal rears, pitching the officer to the ground, and bolts off into the night.

Shadow Dancer smiles in satisfaction to himself and melts back into the shadows on the rooftops.

Sprawled on the floor the armour clad officer gets to his feet and shouts impatiently ‘Arathane what’s happening in there?’

Sonea using Gabal’s superior missile fires at the recruit but misses. Trying for the side-door she blows a small hole in it.

Dara strikes down the last recruit with a lethal blow. She makes her way outside to what she feels is a safe distance from the men and dogs she finds out there.

The largest man (minion), a hulking mass of muscle runs straight for her but Dara being Dara, she side steps out his grasp.

Torrent pushes past out of the door and up onto the nearby outside table. Lifts her hammer and she leaps off using earth mark and slams into the hulk attacking Dara. The mass of flesh crashes to the floor a dead weight.

Torthen charges out the door onto the street behind the table Torrent just leapt off.

Someone shouts ‘Korthan!’

Korthan the armoured officer yells ‘Fall back!’

The officer, the remaining thug and two dogs retreat down the streets and alleyways. The loose dog takes one look at the party and decides against it. With a whine and a howl it follows its packmates.

Tactical encounter ends.

It has been noticed that all of the assailants from the scouts to the thugs, recruits and the officer all had a red armband with a black horses head on it and strange arcane symbols underneath.

Looking westward they see the reddened snow clouds of the night with balls of flame dropping from the sky. Flaming trebuchet boulders are streaming over the walls of Gate Pass. The Western most end of the city district is aflame. Roars of giant beasts can be heard overhead and blood drops like rain onto the snow.

Session 2 Part 2: The Invasion Begins

2007-08-21T01:48:00.000Z

SESSION 2 PART II

THE INVASION BEGINS - Mid Afternoon of Day 1 to Early Morning of Day 2

The by now very intimidated fellowship rush back to the town, child in tow, to find almost all preparations for the evacuation are complete. Despite all the best efforts of the Sherrif and the two Morton’s, many of the townsfolk have elected to ignore the advice of their betters and take off into the hills alone or in small groups.

As they enter the town, the first wagons of the column have already begun to pull out of the town square, making for the mountain road and the pass to the south-east. From the barely spotted glimpse of blue-and-white robes at the fore, it seems evident that Father Morton himself is leading the way.

Meanwhile, in the square the Sheriff and a small band of volunteers who have hastily donned the armour and weapons captures by the party wait to form a rear-guard. Ruz and the professional warrior types in the party (Nine, Clifford and Thutson), take one look at this motley shambles and polite suggest that the men take the place of honour at the head of the column while the party protects the rear.

A somewhat relieved looking sheriff hobbles off with the men under his command in tow, limping up the column as fast as his aged bones will carry him. As the party tags onto the tail end of the column, the tone and character of the red light changes noticeably. Its low hum increases in pitch to a near scream as mushroom shaped pulses of light begin to shoot up into the air from the stumps, following the path of the “spear” as would a loop of metal hung on a post.

The character notes this ominous change with trepidation, and begin to hurry the villagers along as far as possible.

Although they wait a solid fifteen minutes themselves before heading out after the last of the villagers, is not long before they come across the first stragglers. Among them are the old, the infirm and children accompanied by lone mothers, widows of the Last War. Already at the side of the path, the players past discarded, useless objects, pots, pans, cutlery and so forth, brought along by the fleeing townsfolk despite the advice of the town leaders.

Its not long before the party find these stragglers beginning to fall behind even them. In some annoyance, Adriana runs further up the column to acquire a cart or some other vehicle for these folk who evidently should not be walking. She comes across the very large wagon -a wide bullock-wagon pulled by four of the foul smelling beasts and driven by an even more odious specimen. The drivers cart is packed with food -but also with useless items such as furniture and bed-stuffs. When the man refuses to slow down and ditch his useless weight in favour of passengers, Adriana decides to use her own particular favourite form of persuasion, knocking the fellow of his cart (and into the land of Nod) with the carefully applied argument embodied by a hefty smack from a black-jack.

The other characters help to distribute the food from the wagon upon the shoulders of the healthiest stragglers (those who simply refused to leave the infirm behind) and place those who cant keep up on the wagon-bed. Begrudgingly, Adriana allows the driver to be chucked on the back of the wagon-bed a well, though clearly she’d rather leave him for the invaders.

After another hours travel, the party tops a rise where they can peer down into the bay below. Beneath and behind them, a distance of perhaps no more than four miles as the townsman stumbles, the first of the black-ship’s has begin to disgorge its unwholesome cargo upon the shore. To their horror, the party realises that each ship -and there are dozens of them creeping into the bay- carries at least a hundred troops. And what’s more, the very first one to land carries an additional surprise: the hunched, four legged forms of what can only be Wargs (spotted by Adriana‘s keen senses).

The more military-minded players exchange looks of consternation at this news. They had been counting on the fact any horses in the Black Fleet would require time to settle on dry land again after however many days at sea. They had not counted on the ferocious intelligence and ruthless determination of Wargs. Such creatures would not be troubled by the mountainous terrain the column hoped to use in covering its retreat.

Several of the more aggressive party members, including Thutson, wanted to make a stand there and then. Cooler heads prevailed however, as the ground on which they stood, (at that point, still open, rolling foothills rather than the mountains themselves) was not suited to a desperate rear-guard defence. They had no hope but to press on. Knowing that combat was inevitable at this point, room was made for Constance, Bagson and Clifford on the wagon. All three of these spell casters had exhausted their complement of magic. It was clear that without the support of the spell casters, the expedition was doomed.

(Dms Note: A sensible decision actually, had they decided to stand their ground there, the wargs would simply have ignored them and ran past them to engage the refugees, hoping to kill and wound them in sufficient numbers to slow them enough for the rest of the army to arrive).
Not long after, it seemed that the column ground to a halt. Ruz and Adriana ran swiftly up the column to investigate. To their incredulity, despite everything Father Morton and the Sheriff could do, the townsfolk had decided to stop for a rest and a coked meal.

After a hurried conference with the Sheriff and the good Father, in which both these worthies were quickly filled in regarding the Warg situation, Ruz learned of a natural choke point on the road a few hours ahead, one that a small force could defend adequately for a time. As Father Morton and the Sherrif pressed the hastily organised militia into forcing the refugees to their feet in the strange eerily red light of dusk, the thee Shard-born returned to the rest of the party with news that this natural defence was close by.

They reached the choke point, a narrow ravine in the mountain trail, shortly before the onset of full night. As the wagons were unloaded one by one to be manhandled through the gap, the remaining (awake) members of the party picked their ground and formatted a plan. They would wait until the pursuit cleared the next rise whereupon the foe would be subjected to a barrage of missiles from atop the steep walls on either side. The bullock cart- which by all accounts was too wide to fit through the narrow gap in any case- would be used as a barricade from atop which Thutson, Nine and Bagson would hold the defensive line.

Shortly before the last of the civilian wagons made it through the gap, a chilling howl echoed through the hills. The party had only the barest of moments to register the proximity of their pursuit however, for a mere moment later a red flash appeared in the western sky, above the village, as the stumps themselves seemed to explode in a wave of reddish energy that shook the top of the ships just barely visible in the harbour.

The locals needed no further reminder of why they must hurry through the night, and the last of the wagons sound disappeared over the next ridge. The character were left alone, with only their howls and the strange red light in the sky to distract them from their fears as the moon began to rise.

The characters failed to spot the arrival of the first scouts a mere two hours after they (those who were awake at least) had finished preparing their positions for the fight to come. The six Warg scouts and their mounted hobgoblin passengers did not fancy their chances in a direct assault and slinked off into the night to find a workable path around the position. They failed.
So it was that they returned a further four hours later, as the night entered what would normally have been its darkest phase, were it not from the red reflections against the cloud, by which time the sleeping party members had recovered their strength and rested sufficiently to regain their spells and infusions.

The attack came swiftly and without warning. Five dark shapes leapt over the rise leading down into the ravine (the sixth scout and rider having been sent back with a message by the remainder and barrelled down upon the wagons defenders. They were met by the anticipated barrage of missile fire, which dropped one rider and injured several wargs. With one of the two bow armed Warg-Riders down, the “mount” itself decided to climb the bank even as its companion held its position at the top of the rise, allowing its rider to provide counter-archery fire, and scrambled up the slope to find the archers that had slain its rider.

All four archers (Clifford and Constance on the right, Ruz and Adriana on the left) refused to pass up such a choice target and launched a volley at the Warg as it scrambled up the slope (a climb action, meaning no dex bonus), wounding it terribly. However, this ommission allowed the three wargs with lance armed passengers to reach and engage the wagons defenders without further mishap. However the Wargs were quickly dismayed to find the defenders elevated position meant that they could not bring their own jaws to bear and were forced to rely on the weapons of their riders to win the battle. The three heroes were not so constrained however, and focused their energies on disabling the wargs themselves. One rider was crushed unconscious beneath his dying mount and another finally managed to leap aboard the wagon, every other attempt having been smacked down by then characters with successful attacks of opportunity.

However, this was only possible because Nine had been forced to abandon the line in order to come to the rescue of his colleagues. Above the ravine, the climbing Warg had finally reached its tormentors. Unsure whether or not it should first savage the elf or the changeling, the decision was made for it when Adrian rushed to place the spell-casting Ruz (who had just failed to affect the beast with a whim spell) between her and the Warg. The Warg chomped down mightily on the poor unfortunate Ruz, who once again took serious injuries and was forced to spend an action point to stabilise for the second time that day and the third time in two sessions!

Ruz would prove to be the only friendly casualty of the battle however. With the second Warg at the wagon down and its rider slain, the last Warg and its near-passenger chose that moment to fail a morale check and run for the hills. Neither would live to see the Black Ships again as a series of attacks of opportunity and missile fire from Constance and Clifford brought them low. Seeing this, the last archer and his Warg turned and legged it, hoping to “report” the presence of powerful defenders with the column. The final Warg snarled its hatred at the elf who had wounded it so mercilessly from afar, but simple intelligence one over brute savagery and the beast opted to retreat before being faced with the mighty war hammer of Nine.

The party, battered and bloodied, stood victorious. Elated but relieved. Ruz was quickly healed back t a useful state by Clifford, but the short battle had taken a hefty toll on the heroes.
Constance had used every one of her infusions before the battle to either heal or augment the combat powers of Nine. Clifford had used more than half his spells in the aftermath of the battle to heal the wounded Ruz and Bagson. Meanwhile, Ruz had burned through another Action Point, as had Adriana, Clifford and Constance. Indeed, worst of all, Nine had spent FOUR of the six action points he`d gained upon reaching second level and Bagson had used all but his least powerful spells in this first battle.

Worse, it was not yet dawn, the column had at least another three days march ahead of it and the party could expect a fresh attack at any moment.

It would prove to be a bleak night for the heroes of Bronce.

And how had the Sword of Xenphon spent the battle? Bagson, the dwarf who felt the wooden sword to be useless, had spent the whole battle with it strapped to his back in a hide cover. The groups single most powerful asset hadn`t even been used once in the whole encounter.

KHYBER RISING PART II

2007-08-19T21:47:00.000Z

SESSION II
KYBER RISING Part II Mid-afternoon to early evening. Day One.

The characters had a surprise as they left the mine. To the West, a great red shaft of light pierced the sky, parting the clouds and causing a light rain to fall. They didn’t need a clear view of the island to realise that the light came from the stumps. Somewhat alarmed to say the least and carrying their near-comatose charge with them, the party hustled back to town as swiftly as Constance`s sheltered upbringing would allow.

Arriving back at Bronce, they found the town in an uproar. Father Morton was no-where to be seen as the villagers rapidly packed what belongings they had into packs or loaded them on to wagons and mules. The Sheriff was trying to organise the shambles into some sense of order, persuading the locals to leave what few valuables they owned behind and to take only food and water.

Adriana observed that suddenly the locals didn’t seem to feel so confident about the Sword anymore.

They learned from the boys grateful mother that the “Red Spear” had struck the sky only just over an hour ago, presumably about the same time as the party entered the mines, and that the “Black Ships” had been sighted moving in on the coast.

After a hurried explanation of the Hobgoblins ransom demands (watched by a tearful mother demanding to know why it had been her child that was left behind) Ruz brought up the matter of the murdered tax collector. He did not fail to notice the sudden flash of guilt that crossed his face. After some prodding the sheriff admitted that he knew. Indeed, half the town seemed to share this dirty little secret. An outraged Bagson demanded to know why the Sheriff hadn’t done anything about it, only to receive an incredulous look.

“I`m sixty-two years old, I have more old wounds and aching bones than you`ll experience in a dwarves lifetime and my only deputy is a fifteen year old boy whose never had to shave let alone had a woman. Why in the Gods name do you think I haven`t done anything? You do something if you like. Me? I`m busy here!”

Bagson didn`t have much to say to that and a burial party was quickly organised for the corpse of the tax-collector, which Nine had carried down the mountain.. Satisfied that they now had at least the grudging permission of the law on their side, the party left Young Morton behind to help the sheriff and set off at a fairly rigid pace to rescue the tax-money from Big Jim`s mill.
The party did not approach recklessly however, after all, their only healer had exhausted his spells and they faced four men whom, or so the Sheriff had it, were seasoned adventurers. Constance refused to be left behind. Saying they needed every crossbow they could find, and placed several magical infusions on Nine to strengthen his weapons and another on Thutson to enchant his weapon.

With that, the party approached the mill not from the front gate, but from a gap in the hedge to one side. Constance, Adirana, Bagson and Clifford formed the missile group which circled round to the right, ready to cover the door to the mil building, while Nine and Thutson moved through the gap in the hedge up the centre, looking to head down the small path between the storage shed and what appeared to be a small cottage. Raz meanwhile circled round to the left, crossbow in hand, to guard that flank.

The battle started badly. Jim’s dogs, three savage brutes, burst from the cottage at the characters approach and made straight for Nine. Fortunately, although not one of the groups archers actually managed to hit a dog, the hounds found that Nine`s rough adamantine and wood skin hurt their teeth. Unfortunately, that simply meant they turned on the less well protected Thutson, who was savaged badly by the dogs before he and Nine finally put the last one down. Meanwhile Adriana set about lighting the shed and cottage roofs with fire-arrows.
No sooner had they done so that Thom, the first and largest of Jim`s band, burst from the mill itself. Glistening all over with a strange grey-ish oil and wielding a massive great-axe, the huge warrior let out a howl of rage and made straight for the missile group, leaping across the hedge and into melee with Clifford, ignoring the wounds he had taken from three crossbows in the process.

This was too much for Constance, who seemed to turn and flee at this point.

Jim himself followed, throwing himself into combat with nine and the wounded Thutson, shaking off a Whim spell cast by Raz in the process, and immediately setting about the raging barbarian and the war forged warrior. Thutson fell almost immediately, taking a hefty blow first from Jims axe, them a vicious uppercut with the Rim of his shield. He fell to the ground unmoving and near-death (on -9 hit points and spending the First Action Point of the Battle to auto-stabilise - if he hadn’t he would have died at the beginning of his next initiative).

The next to emerge was Halton, the Scout sprinted half-way from the mill to the cottage wall, stopping half-way to launch a wickedly accurate crossbow bolt that struck Ruz full on the chest, dropping the Changling behind the hedge. Fortunately however, the Changling had strength enough to crawl out of harms way, behind a small fold in the ground. Things were looking bleak however, in their first round of entering the combat, Big Jim`s boys had dropped two of the fellowship. The battle had barely begun and yet the odds looked bleak.

It would grow darker still, not long after Jacko revealed that he was indeed a powerful wizard, launching a pair of shining purple orbs that struck Nine with a deep, resounding thud, leaving behind the noise of tortured metal and burning wood. For the first time in his life, Nine knew real pain, greater by far than the mere scratch inflicted upon him by the hobgoblin at the Stumps.

And then the third party member fell.

Though pierced and battered by crossbow bolts, bludgeoned by Clifford, slashed by Bagson and sneak-attacked by Adriana, the howling Thom refused to fall. His oily bloody and ragged hide cloak were both matted with deep red, arterial blood, yet still he fought on, cleaving Clifford with a blow that near tore the Favoured Soul in Two (Second Action Point, spent to stabilise).
Realising how dire their chances looked, Nine called upon every ounce of strength and courage he had to land telling blows on Jim, (spending four action points in the process) yet the determined thug simply would not go down. Even his infusion enhanced Adamantine body could not protect him form the fury of Jims axe, and as the partys last true melee specialist began to fail, it seemed like it was all over for the characters.

But Constance had not fled, she had worked her way steadily into a position where she could fire on Hal from behind and above. Though so far she had missed twice, her bolts landing so far from the mark that Halton had simply ignored her, her third shot flew true, striking the scout through the back of the chest and piercing his heart. (Typically, she had rolled a critical threat on her first ever successful attack roll, scoring 12 damage on a character with only 10 hit points).
The players (and presumably the characters too) let out a cheer at the sigh, and Constance seemed unphased when Jim, seeing the whole thing, roared angrily “You`ll pay for that b&!%@!”.

But the tide had turned, and the party new it. Only moments later, a sneak attack from Adriana (which hit thanks to the Seventh Action Point of the Session) finally dropped the rampaging, monstrous Thom.

Jim was not concerned though. Three of his foes were down, the last skilled warrior was near de-activation and of the reaming three, two had suffered at the hands of Thom and the last was a scared slip of a girl who`d near dropped her crossbow when he’d threatened her. He only swore vengeance and continued to fight.

Jacko was not so confident, he’d used his last decent spell trying to drop Bagson and failed, though he left the dwarves warrior nearly spent. Always the coward of the group, he shouted “Run Jim”, and fled with the benefit of his last spell - Expeditious Retreat.
Big Jim howled in rage, and took one last swing at Nine before turning to run. Even spending his last action point, Nine couldn’t land a blow on the retreating warrior. It seemed Jim would escape.

But they had reckoned without Raz. Dismayed and angered by the sigh of Thutson lying seemingly dead (and having a player who knows a recurring villains when he see’s one) Raz rose from his crouch and used the last of his strength to fire his still-loaded crossbow at Jims back. He missed, but decalred that an action point would be spent, despite being told he needed to roll a six. We watched in mingled horror (from me) and fascination as, without preamble, Raz’s player rolled a six and dropped the fiend to negative hit points.

After the ensuing celebration (which Raz himself did not remain conscious to see), the standing party members gathered their wits and spotted Jacko heading for the causeway and the stumps as fast as his skinny legs and flapping robes would carry him. But the elation was short lived. Three of their friends were down and most of the remainder near death. As the lightest and fastest of the four victors, Adriana was dispatched back to town without ceremony to fetch Father Morton.

In the meantime, with the shed and cottage burning merrily about them, the others decided to search the mill.

“I just hope the money wasn’t in one of those.” Constance was heard to comment quietly. Luckily (although I WAS tempted) the treasure -and a small armoury- proved to be in the mill house itself. While Nine loaded the captured weapons onto the mills mule, Constance and Bagson found a small chest under the floorboards.

Not long after Adriana returned with a very cross Father Morton (who was not pleased about having been left out of the fight) and the parties injured were quickly healed. Adriana and Raz then proceeded to open the chest, after first disarming the trap that guarded it, and examine the contents. They found the tax money did not quite add up to a mere 1000gp, but were confident that the other items and art objects contained therein would increase the haul to the required 2000gp. There was some talk of keeping some of the money or else using some of the weapons they had found as barter but Father Morton soon put a stop to that.

He also claimed the weapons and armour (minus those the party had chosen for themselves - Constance, Clifford and Thutson got a breastplate each, while Adriana was happy to acquire Constance`s cast off Masterwork chain shirt and Raz claimed Haltons masterwork but damaged studded leather) for the towns militia, pointing out that the townsfolk needed them more the characters needed cash.

Bagson complained about this as well, but the good father simply replied, “Consider it a gratuity for all that free healing”.

Once again, Bagson did not have much more to say about that.

Beneath the chest, Bagons detect magic spells sensed something in the recently disturbed earth. Reaching his hand into the soil, he felt it clasps around the haft of something thick and wooden. Lifting it from the soil, the party were near-blinded by a blue-csytalline flash. As Bagons held the sword aloft, all could see that he held in his hand a strnagely crafted wooden sword, still ozzing living sap upon the blade and veined with what appeared to be blue crystal.
All the shardborn present felt a strange affinity for the sword, as if the had just seen a friend long missed hale and in good health. All except Bagson, who paused only to complain:

"What the hell are we going to do with a wooden sword!"

It was at this moment that Raz pointed out. "Well, Father Morton was right about one thing, thats no human design. Xenophon was a hob-goblin."

As the party rushed back down the hill and into town, the first of the Black Sailed Ships moved into sight around the hills. Still a few hours from landfall, the company nevertheless took note, and redoubled their efforts to return to the Mine.

Another surprise awaited them there.

Gone were the scrappy, dishevelled hobgoblin brigands from before. Instead, they found themselves marched down mine shafts packed tight with fierce, chanting, yelling hobgoblin warriors in full, matching armour and uniforms of Red and Dark Blue. The hobgoblins chanted in some strange foreign tongue (not goblin) none of the party could understand. Fearful of their lives, and wondering where these hobgoblins came from, and whether the hobgoblin who`d made the deal was still in charge, they were lead swiftly to the lift shaft.

The hobgoblin leader awaited him there. Gone were the wounds from before, seemingly magical healed. His cloak was of the deepest midnight blue, his sword and armour of the finest quality . The guards beside him carried banners adorned with some strange runes. His very bearing was altogether different, this hobgoblin carried himself like a King, not a tribal chief. Yet it was undoubtedly the same one. They recognised the scar across his cheek.

This time the hobgoblin spoke eloquently, welcoming them in dulcet tones and perfect common and confiding they had not eaten the boy after all. “Not enough to go round,” one of the banner men joked as the nearby hobgoblin parade laughed. The party were in no doubt this display was not just for their benefit - they were to serve as the bearers of grave tidings to the people of Chillhame. This was no simple pirate raid or barbarian incursion. It was to be a full blown invasion.

“The truce lasts until you reach the village and my general reaches land. . Once the Terror arrives, all truces expire. And this island shall drown in blood.”

At this, the hobgoblins take up the chant “Blood, Blood, Blood!” Banging sword against shield and spear butts against the ground as the party - and the last boy- are escorted back through the heaving throng of orange flesh. To their surprise, they once again reach safety -but not before being accosted by a band of grey-skinned, red-haired dwarves!
As they exit the caves, Bagson is unusually quiet. He believes now that he knows what happened Eberron's lost clan of Dwarves.
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Kyber Rising Part One

2007-08-11T00:46:00.000Z

SESSION ONE: KYBER RISING part one.

Dawn to early-afternoon. Second Sul of the month of Rhann (early autumn) 1008 KY, on the Island of Chillhame, near the Town of Bronce.

The characters are recalled to wakefulness by a blood-curdling scream. As they look about themselves they find they lie upon a stone plinth, with a glowing megalith towering above it, in a cluster of twelve other stone tables of a similar sort, all occupied. They have only a moment to take in these strange surroundings however, as their eyes are drawn to a terrible sight.

Above one of the plinths stands a woman both exotic and terrible. Twelve small twisted horns like those a goat grow finger-like from her forehead, crowning her in the shape of a Tiara. Her purple skin glistens with sweat and she licks her dark lips as though squirming with primal ecstasy, her organic seeming purple armour leaving her midriff and much of her chest bare and seeming to quiver with an excitement of its own. In one up-raised, perfect hand she clings to a still-dripping heart, beating erratically in her grasp. The other holds a bloody dagger. She laughs as the figure beneath her reaches feebly upwards, as if striving to reclaim the sacred treasure stolen from it’s chest.

At the sight of this someone gasps, and the woman’s attention is returned to the present. She howls in hatred and points to the plinths.

“Kill them! Kill the Shard-born!” she screams. In but a moment, she is gone, faded into the mists that surround the clearing. But other figures have not, as over a dozen frenzied, humanoid figures unleash their rage in a ulullalating, bestial war-cry and charge wildly out of the mists.
Immediately, some of the figures on the plinths are cut down, slaughtered before they can even fully regain their feat, but a small band, seven in number, rise at the far side of the clearing and begin to give battle.

Two of them, the War forged, Nine and his erstwhile companion, Ruz, hold their ground, electing to permit the enemy to come to them. But another, dressed in hide armour and bearing Longsword and shield charges forward to meet the uncommon creatures.

As he nears them, he recognises them for what they are. Mere hobgoblins, but hobgoblins of athe strangest sort. For these carry rusty, crude weapons and wear patchwork armour, as poorly kept and maintained as their discipline. Thutson nearly cleaves his first foe in two, but this first combatant is swiftly joined by two others. This rash act however, perhaps saves the life of a young girl.

To the eyes of the other heroes , peering through the mists, this young girl is in fact an elven archer of the Valenar horse-lords. Yet she acts as strangely as their attackers. Rather than stand and fight, she throws her bow in the air and screams, cowering behind her plinth as the other orange skinned warriors bear down upon her.

Yet the town guardsman, Clifford, does not let her fall undefended. He lunges forward, placing himself between the girl and the foe, and is quickly joined by Ruz, whose enchantment magic causes one hobgoblin facing Clifford to become distracted by a terrible wracking agony inside his head. The two are swiftly joined thereafter by the Warrforged, Nine.

Meanwhile, a second melee develops around Thutson, aided by the axe of Bagson and the bow of the groups true elf, Adria.

Against so formidable a group, the hobgoblins fall easily, the last one retreating into the mists. Alas, the group has not been quick enough to save the others, who fade from sight even now, seemingly taken by the mists, never to return.

The seriously wounded Ruz, almost becomes one of them. Luckily, it transpires that one of his new companions is not only a soul favoured by the gods, but posessed of a kind heart. Though it takes almost half of Cliffords spells, the changling is saved from an early, and likely very permanent, demise.

With the help of Adria, Constance, the girl cowering behind the stone, is quickly calmed. By her upper-class Sharn accent and the sheer expense of her make-up and costume - the bow alone being wrapped with platinum wire and inlaid with peal- it is clear the lass is out of her depth. However, upon seeing Nine she runs to him, clinging to his leg as though he were some sort of talisman against the dark. While Clifford heals the wounds of the party’s organic members - using his entire allotment of spells for the day- Constance turns her hand to magically repairing the wounds suffered by Nine. As she does so, the Warforged has a flashback, in which he recognises her as having been present at his creation.

The girl seems genuinely confused by this news, claiming not to remember any such thing. At that moment, most of then other characters realise that they cannot recall many important events in their lives, such as where they born or the names of their parents. While they seem to remember how to swing a sword or cast a spell, the secrets of their past seems lost to them.

While this conversation takes place, Ruz and Bagson examine the stone monliths. The plinths themselves each bear a niche, right beneath where the occupants heart would be were they once again lying on the slab in question. Each cnihe is filled by a now spent Siberys crystal, perhaps the length of a human forearm. The monoliths themselves appear to be carved from stone and to have fragments of glowing crystal embedded within. But as a dwarf, Bagson is able to proclaim that the stone was added later, like a sheath to protect the inner cystal. Each of the thirteen plinths bears a strange engraving, glowing with a faint purple radiance. Bagson has never seen anything like them, but the changeling recognises them as Dargonmarks -much as they would look when seen on the skin of a living being. None of the actual marks look familar to him, and neither of them think to bring the marks to the attention of Constance, who has already revealed herself to be a scion of House d'Cannith.

It is at that point the apparition appears.

She takes form slowly, over the central mound, and appears as a beautiful yet translucent women of golden skin and silvery hair. She speaks to the heroes as if very far away, calling them the “Shard-born” and warning them of a great evil which threatens the world. A great evil they must face alone. She seems saddened by what she calls their premature emergence, and by the quality of their vessels, which she says are as yet unprepared. It seems then, that whatever ritual has been performed, it was performed too soon, and by an enemy seeking to prevent “their” emergence at their true power. Whoever “their” might be.

After only a few moments, and leaving more questions behind than answers, including instructions to seek the Sword of Xenophon, “so that you might begin to remember”, she fades away into nothingness.

The characters begin to feel as if a soothing presence has been lifted, and though the mist has retreated in the last few moments, they find their surroundings as bleak and ominous as ever. They are on an island, perhaps a quarter of a mile across, linked to the mainland by a long, narrow causeway. The sun has risen. And on the southern horizon, a fleet of black sails appear on the horizon.

With no sign of the mysterious purple woman, or her hobgoblin servants, the party flee quickly to the mainland.

As they run, Constance, clearly unable to keep up and unused to such things, casts aside her bow and arrows, seeming not to care about the cost as Adria recovers them for her own use. For the sake of speed, Nine lifts her in his adamantine arms and runs with her cradled like a small child. By the time they are half-way across, the water is lapping around their ankles and around the thighs of the dwarf. However, at this point it becomes clear that what appeared to be the two peaks of a saddle bisecting a single hill is, in fact, two hills flanking the entrance to a small bay. Only moments later, as they skirt the hills which block their view of the Bay, they spot a large village complete with a single nearby windmill.

Fearing for the safety of the townsfolk, they run into the town, but are perplexed to see it near deserted so early in the day, at a time when all should be up and about and conducting their business, especially given the number of fishing boats drawn up on the beech. However, Bagson notes the poor quality of the boats and the terrible state of the nets and the party rightly conclude that fishing is not this towns usual means of support. Constance is so shocked at the state of the town that she exclaims “People actually live here?” not in snooty tones but in genuine shock. She seems quite moved when she learns that this is the case and that people could live quite comfortably in such squalor. She confesses she had never realised what a sad thing it was to be poor, as she has never before left the D`Cannith house enclave in Sharn. At least, not that she can remember. Her simple concern seems to improve her worth considerably in the eyes of her companions, some of whom finally realise that, far from being spoiled, she has merely been overly-sheltered by her parents. And that her sweet nature is truly no ruse.

This becomes even more clear as they reach the town to find it in as dilapidated a state as the boats themselves. Half the homes are falling apart, with rotten wood showing through the adobe facings and peeling paint. Clearly the town has fallen upon hard times. Even the many mine entrances now visible in the hills have no activity around them. Indeed, the only sign of life is an old woman who flees into her shop as soon as they party comes into sight of it. Although Thutson runs up one of the hills flanking the bay entrance, looking to measure the progress of the pirates, the others hurry up to the old woman`s shop.

The bang upon her barred door but are given no entrance. Instead, the old woman threatens to call the sheriff if they do not leave her be. Eventually they persuade her to provide directions to the inn. They head for the town square, still in some haste and somewhat dismayed by the old woman’s refusal to believe an invasion fleet is on the way. The find the inn at the far side of the marketplace, with an old fountain fronting a ruined shrine to the Sovereign Host before it. Although Clifford seems dismayed by the poor condition of this hallowed location, he does not allow himself to be distracted from his task.

The fellowship bursts into the inn, yelling about pirates and an invasion fleet and are met with ridicule and laughter. Even at this early hour, the inn is packed with folk who should be working. One group in particular catch the eye of the party, four fierce looking men who slouch in the corner and eye them suspiciously. It swiftly becomes apparent that not only do the characters not know what town they are in, they do not even know they are on an island! This only causes the four men to become even more suspicious, narrowly avoiding a fight when Nine engages what he refers to as “threat mode”. Luckily, the presence of a member of house D`Cannith and a sharply worded order from the young Constance calms him. However, the suspicion of the four men only grows when the party reveal they don’t even know what YEAR it is.

Indeed, at learning the news that the last war ended not seven but TEN years ago, Constance is so shocked that she near collapses and bursts in to tears screaming “I`m twenty! How can I be twenty! I haven`t even had a chance to be seventeen!”

Adria quickly moves to comfort her, though she herself is stunned to learn the date is FIVE years later than she remembered. She is not quite so affected however, nor is Bagson who learns seven years have passed since his last memeory. Both are from long-lived races and, though disconcerted, do not feel the loss as much as poor Constance, who, given what she can recall of their advanced age and poor-health, has every reason to suspect her parents may be dead by now!

Of all the party, Nine takes news of these lost years the best. He cannot even recall what year it was when he met Ruz anyway, and since he was only a few weeks old at the time (as far as he believes) he has yet to come to appreciate the value of those wasted years.

At this point, evidently either deciding the party is crazy, cursed, or both, most of the villagers save the barman and the group in the corner, leave the inn with some haste. The four thugs simply look angrier, and more suspicious, than ever.

At that moment, a terrified local comes bursting into the inn, complaining about “some grey-skinned monster tearing up the town and yelling for his friends. Adria and Ruz quickly move outside and wave to Thutson, who quickly runs up and reports that he cannot see the sails at all from the hills, which are somewhat lower than the hill upon which they appeared.

Before Thutson can finish gathering his breath, three men, all armoured and clearly expecting trouble, burst into the inn. One, the oldest man, is of advancing years and is clearly the sheriff. Clad in chain mail and carrying a seemingly ancient spear older even than he is and with a bronzed helmet perched upon his head, he quickly tells the other two to stand down. The youngest of the three is a boy of perhaps sixteen, clad in poorly fitting leather armour and armed only with a brace of javelins. The third, who bears a clear family resemblance to the young man, is between the other two in years and carries a simple farmers flail balanced on one shoulder. His blue and white vestments, worn over his well-fitted breastplate, mark him as the local Priest.

Relieved to finally find the sheriff, the group relate their tale, explaining that they happened to sight a fleet of black sails after appearing in the strange magical circle across the causeway. On an island they are informed the locals call the Stumps. The local men seem sceptical and the three newcomers even laugh.

One, the youngest, blurts out. “Hah, Pirates have never troubled us before. We’ve got the Sword of Xen..” he shuts up after being cuffed round the ear and told to shut up the sheriff. The youth throws an apologetic, almost fearful glance across the room to the four thugs, and mutters a terrified apology to the man seated in the centre. Someone he calls “Big Jim”, evidently the leader of the four thugs.

Despite the sudden silence in the room, the party asks what the lad means. Seemingly unafraid of the four thugs the priest, who introduces himself as Father Morton, explains that the locals believe that the village is protected from harm by the sword of some hero - they say a human but he reckons a hobgoblin- named Xenophon. This Xenpohon supposedly fought a great battle against an evil army and slew its demonic leader not far from the town. Though the locals clearly look angry that the Priest has told these adventurous looking foreigners about the sword, the father seems unconcerned. It`s fairly clear that while even the sheriff and his deputy - father Mortons son- fear Big Jim and his cohorts, they in turn have a healthy respect for the prowess of the priest.

Still concerned and not entirely sure this Sword will save the village, the party set to discussing whether or not they should try to reclaim the sword. What if it is the only thing keeping this village safe from raiders? While the others agree that the ships seem to be staying out of sight for the moment and agree to rent a few rooms for the night, Ruz slips out the back and catches up with father Morton.

The priest explains a little more about the Swords history, stating that it was supposedly stored someplace secret nearby, but that the only records he knew of its location went up in flames when the local library - the private collection of the towns previous mayor- went up in smoke with all the town records six years ago. He explains that the townsfolk cling to a “superstitious” belief that the Sword has kept them safe while all the surrounding villages were long ago plundered and slavered into extinction. Privately, he believes it has more to do with the fact the bay entrance is invisible from the sea. After all, if this Sword was so powerful, why have all the mines dried up and the town reduced to such a penurious state?

Ruz makes some comment about asking just out of interest in a good tale, but the Father sees right through him and merely smiles. “The tombs up there in the hills somewhere,” he says, “and good riddance to the Sword if you find it. As long as it`s here these fools will cling to this half-life they lead, trusting in the sword to protect them rather taking fate into their own hands. Half these fools still believe things will get better again if only the keep faith with the sword.” He nods sadly towards the ruins of the old shrine, a testimony to the townsfolks faith in the sword rather than the Gods.

He goes on to explain that many of the villagers would likely fight to keep the sword safe. He goes on to mention that the islanders are a stubborn lot. They fought off no less than four invasions by Breland during the War, and even now, twelve years after the Day of Mourning, they still consider themselves subjects of the Kingdom of Cyre. Even though the surviving Prince of Cyre barely recognises that the island exists. Some of these folk even believe the Sword was the only thing that saved the island from the same fate as the rest of Cyre. Maybe they are right after all, for things started going bad right about then. Perhaps saving the island from the fate of their mother Kingdom simply exhausted the Swords Power. the father speculates. But it is readily apparent that the Father doesn’t believe it. “Swords that powerful”, he says, “simply don’t exist.”

“Host knows the locals don’t have faith in the Gods anymore. Speaking of which, services are held nightly here, at my house. Your friends are all welcome. I expect you’ll need me for some free healing soon too -but only if no villagers need it first. Good day.”

Happy to have learned so much information, Ruz returns to the rest of the group. They have wiled away the time making plans in quietly hushed voices, relating what they can remember of their origins and chatting amicably among themselves. Bagson makes a few unwholesome jokes that leave Constance near sickened, and the two girls head of the far end of the table to indulge in a little girl talk. Young Constance still seems out of her depth, but thanks to the efforts of Adria she has begun to admit that things are indeed, "quite exciting".

Before long, Thutson indicates he’s going to take another look from the hill, and is followed by the majority of the party save Clifford, who intends to keep an eye on their gear -such as it is- and Adria, who declares her intention to do a little sneaking.

Shortly after the party leave the inn, Adria also rises and goes to poke about town. Two of the thugs follow her out. Clifford, torn between following and letting the parties gear -and the other two thugs- out of his sight decides to trust in the abilities of his elven companion and remains right where he is.

Adria quickly spots her tail, and tries to loose them by ducking behind a building. She’s spotted however, and the two thugs mockingly lounge against the opposite wall for a while, waving and leering, until one them decides to approach.

He reveals that Jim and his boys are on to them, don’t believe the idiotic story that they simply appeared on the Stumps, and know what they’re really pokeing about for. They offer a hundred gold, fifty now and fifty to be collected from the mile marker outside town, if they leave before nightfall and tell their masters they found nothing.

Perplexed, but smelling an opportunity for profit, Adria agrees and accepts a hefty bag of gold. As she heads back to the inn, feeling smug, she wonders how the hell someone could be willing to part with so much gold -much less own so much gold- in a town where the inn-keep told her not to flash her wealth around when she bought drinks with a silver piece.

Not long after, she bumps into the sheriffs deputy, Young Morton, who adds he also knows why the characters are really here and that, if they cut him into the treasure, he can lead the party to the old tomb, where Xenophon is said to lie in state. Adria once again agrees readily and arranges to meet the youngster at dusk, at the milestone outside the village.

She gets back to the inn shortly before the others return. Hearing that the group spotted a single black-sailed mast skirting the horizon before fading from view, the groups concludes that the fleet is waiting for something -or someone. Ruz is determined to find out more about the Swords location and picks through the ruins of the library, drawing a few curious looks from the locals. He finds nothing but charred flagstones and a few starved rats. However, not long after he heads out the back of the inn to the privy, the only place he has not been followed by one of the thugs since Adria made the deal, and takes on the form of Father Morton.

In this form he walks casually past the two thugs standing by the inn door (keeping a wary eye on Bagson, who is having a fly pipe-smoke outside the inn) with a cheery wave which the two thugs do not return.

He makes a show of cleaning up the shrine a little, while in fact he is actually searching it. He comes across a small piece of paper -evidently a confession to murder written by one of Jims boys, placed here as a request for forgiveness for this sin- and pockets it. He also finds a small flagstone marked with a hobgoblin “X” rune, but thinks nothing of it at the time and returns to the group, deciding to keep his discovery to himself for the time being and considering whether he should take up the matter himself or leave it to the sheriff.

As he reaches the inn door, a young lad, breathless as a blown horse, runs through the town square bawling “They took ‘em, the gobbers took me friends.” Immediately a crowd, including the characters, gathers round the boy. After some coaxing he reveals that he and his friends were up playing by the old tomb when some gobbers appeared and started dancing and preying “an stuff.” Rather stupidly, his younger friends, Cal and Hob, stayed to watch and were caught soon after another bunch of hobgoblins showed up and fought a battle with the first arrivals. The lad watched saw the whole thing from a distance, but ran away shortly after the boys were dragged off. Alas, he is in such a state he cannot remember in which direction the hobgoblins were headed.

A near riot breaks out as the village sceptics shout “Where was the sword when we needed it eh?” and others cry out that it was the boys on fault for committing sacrilege by playing round the tomb. Father Morton and the Sheriff make a start at calming the mob down, and send young Morton off to lead the characters to the Tomb.

They get there about twenty minutes later and after some careful scouting determine that the second group of hobgoblins did indeed win the fight. The bodies have been stripped bare, all save that of two priests who kneel before a ragged alter at the tomb. Young Morton is able to determine which of the tracks belonged to the winners by the two sets of drag marks that suggest the boys were led off to the east.

Although the tracks disappear over broken ground, he reckons they are headed for the old gold mine, and can lead the way. There is some talk of sending Constance back to town, for her safety, but she disagrees. It seems she is not only rather embarrassed but also somewhat ashamed by her conduct back on the Stumps. She has always dreamed of doing “field work” and is determined to do better. Reluctantly, the party agrees, but only after Clifford hands over his crossbow to the otherwise weapon-less sprig of a girl.

Young Morton smiles nervously at her, and the two youths (both are barely seventeen) seem to draw confidence from each others presence. The party follows the tracks and Ruz, disguised as a goblin, scouts the buildings at the mine head. Three are little more than shacks housing old and useless mine equipment. One is some sort of office. Although it reeks of stale beer, urine and faeces, Ruz holds his breath and does some exploring. He comes across a tattered uniform with a single blood-stained rent above the heart. Further inspection finds an official warrant declaring the bearer as a Tax-Collector for the Crown City of Saraghost. He also finds the mans official tax collection pouch. Unsurprisingly, it is empty.

However, the party do not yet make the connection between the corpse and the strange behaviour exhibited by Big Jim and the rest of the town.

The party explore further into the dungeon, with a very nervous Constance and Young Morten bringing up the rear, Morten with a torch and Constance with a loaded crossbow. At least, its loaded until Bagson reaches back and removes the bolt. “Never cock the weapon with abolt loaded until you need to shoot it”, he whispers in grandfatherly tones, “you might slip and shoot yourself.” Contrite, the young lady never the less nods her understanding, and while she leaves the string pulled back, the quarrel stays tightly held in her quivering spare hand. Both the youths are clearly terrified, and its only the presence and coaxing of the other heroes that keeps them from bolting.

As the party moves deeper into the mines, Ruz, carrying a torch and wearing the shape of a hobgoblin, leads the group with Bagson and Thutson (both of whom have dark vision) about thirty feet behind. Each with one eye closed against the light to protect their dark-sight. The remaining group travel about thirty feet behind the "odd-couple".

Bagson’s bat familiar scouts ahead, screeching once after returning from a side passage. Knowing foes to be present, the parties sneakier members stalk down the short passageway into the old tackroom, where two drunken guards sleep off the victory celebrations. Both are quickly slain and the party members cannot help but comment once again on the strange lack of discipline displayed by these famously militant creatures.

After continuing down a corridor, ignoring several flooded side passages showing no trace of use, they reach a fork in the mine and choose to follow the steeper path. The party are startled by the screeching and moaning of a ghost, which, though terrifying in aspect, appears either unable or unwilling to actually harm them. The ghost is thatof a naked young man, with a great stab wound in his chest and a gaping slash in his throat. When the wailing and moaning attracts the attention of two hobgoblins, who seem rather blaise with regards to the ghost in their midst, Ruz heads down the corridor to intercept them while wearing the face of a dead drunk. Disgusted, the two hobgoblins warn the drunken hobgoblin to return to his post and sober up before the boss sees him. At least if he wants to live until tomorrow. The two guards chuckle nastily and head back the way the came.

Meanwhile, the characters determine that the ghost simply wants them to retrieve his corpse for burial. After some wading in a deep murky pool, the bloated body is removed. It`s clearly been in the water for around a week, and the skin seems to slough off as the characters touch it. Constance bravely manages to avoid throwing up, but only because Morton and the others seem to be watching. Bagson finds a peice of a blade broken off in the neck wound, and pockets the evidence for later. He is swiftly becoming suspicious about just where Jim and his boys got their money from. And why they are so worried about having strangers poke about the place.

The party promise the ghost they will bury the body on the way back , as they have to “tend to the living first, then the dead,” . This seems to remind the ghost of something, and after further pantomime they determine that the two boys are indeed down this corridor along with lots and lots of hobgoblins. Indeed as the party heads further down the corridor, they begin to hear the noise of revelry and celebration, though its hard to determine from where, as the noise seems subdued as it echoes its way through the mineshafts.

Wearing the uniforms of the dead guards, Thutson and Ruz amble up to the two guards from earlier, who appear to be guarding some form of lift mechanism. The two guards seem more annoyed than alarmed at their “drunken” approach and seem more concerned with discussing whether or not one of them should exchange posts with the drunks than what the two newcomers are doing with their hands. Ruz`s rapier strikes the first guard in the throat, nicking the windpipe and narrowly missing the jugular. Its not enough to kill him however, and he tries to rasp out an alarm. Thutson on the other hand beheads his foe with a might blow. Alas, the element of surprise is lost however, as the still-helmeted head makes its noisy, clanging way down the mineshaft, followed an instant later by the armoured body of the second, fanatical hobgoblin, who screams that his death is dedicated to the “Dark Worm” as he throws himself down the shaft.

Below, the sounds of revelry cease.

At the lift, the party makes plans for when the platform rises to meet them, not quite realising that the mechanism only operates from above. At least, not until the mechanically savvy Constance points this out. When they begin to hear sounds of a barricade being assembled below, the party finally decides to act. Constance activates the lift mechanism, bringing the platform up from the level below. Though the characters are ready for battle, the platform is empty. It seems the characters must take the battle to the enemy themselves. Constance and Morton are delegated to remain above and guard the lift mechanism, ready to recall the lift platform at a shout from the others. Both youths realise they are deliberately being left out of the most dangerous fighting, but neither protest. They both know how important their role will be, especially with some unexplored passages still behind them.

The lift descends slowly, with the party’s shield-users in the foe. Though the drop is only a mere sixty feet, it seems to take forever for the aging mechanism to reach the next level.

There, what the character see in the mighty cavern, is enough to make their hearts stop.

Six hobgoblin warriors, all bearing light wounds and drawn longbows, stand not fifty feet away behind a makeshift barricade of tables and mining equipment. Behind them stands a mighty warrior, scarred near from head to foot, with a dagger held to the throat of one of the boys. To his left stands a decrepit old crone in ceremonial clothing, decorated with rats skulls and bird claws, holding a knife at the throat of a second boy. At the other end of the torch lit cavern, a gaggle of hobgoblin children are clustered behind a large assembly of cooking pots and pans, clutching improvised kitchen tools and protected by a mob of hobgoblin women carrying small but deadly looking meat-knives and kitchen-cleavers.

Its clear that the characters cannot win this battle without taking losses. Not least amoung them to two boys. Tense negotiations follow, in which the hobgoblins agree to relinquish one of the two boys as down payment in exchange for 2000gp. The other boy will be released only delivery of the money, unless, the chief hobgoblin agrees, “we get too hungry first. So be quick!”.

The characters return up the lift, with the screams of the second boy screaming in their ears, “Don’t leave me. Don’t leeeeaaaavvvvvve meeeeeeee!”

The question remains? Where will the party find 2000 gold in a one-horse town like Bronce? Bagson and Adria think they know the answer

Khyber Fall: D&D 3.5 in Eberron

2007-08-09T22:51:00.000Z

Just played the first session of my new Ebrron Campaign: KhyberFall, on Wednesday. Here's the blurb the players were given before the game. It`s followed by character descriptions and a summary of the first session.

"It is dark, you have no memory of this place. All that you can feel beneath you is a harsh stone slab. You cannot speak, you cannot move, you cannot sleep. You have no idea of how long you have been trapped here. You hear the sounds of movement all around you, others, trapped, strapped down like yourself. Forest noises reach you faintly as if from far away. You have no clue as to who has brought you here, or why. Your last memory is of a face - a friend, a lover, a foe. It matters not, it is only by great force of will that you can focus on that memory and the ones which have come before. Memories of great battles, great loves, of friends won and lost. You were a hero, an adventurer. Slowly, the past return to you. You still cannot remember how you came to be here, but at last you have remembered who you are.Footsteps ring on stone.The sound of someone singing draws near.A blade is drawn.Your mind opens........"

Adria: Female Elf Rogue 1

Fast-talking and ever-looking to make a quick copper at some-ones expense, Adria speaks so swiftly and says so much in a single breath -without punctuation- that it is hard to follow her part of the conversation. The normally slow-witted Clifford has already joked that he wishes he had a horse so fast as Adria’s tongue. At least, the party thinks he was joking.

Bubbly and friendly, like Nine, Adria has taken young Constance under her wing and already introduced her to the art of “slumming it”. It is largely due to her efforts that the party has been able to enlist the aid of Young Morton and calmed Constance enough for her to become a useful member of the party rather than a screaming impediment. Her enthusiasm for a caper is infectious, and her sassy attitude keeps everyone in high spirits.

Bagson son of Bagmore: Dwarf Male Battle-Sorcerer 1

An unusual member of his species, Bagson seems at first glance to be a very orderly individual. However, this Bastard-sword wielding spell-caster is as foul-mouthed as it is possible for a dwarf to be. Though valiant and brave, he has already managed to disgust Constance and Adria to the extent that Constance at least has begun to despise and distrust him. His lewd and suggestive comments have yet to obviously trouble the rest of the party over-much, yet Clifford in particular seems to frown upon the dwarves obscenity. Thutson however, seems to find him quite amusing.

Clifford of Hard-dale. Human Male Favoured Soul (Sovereign Host) 1

Although not the brightest member of his species, for some reason Clifford seems blessed by the Gods. A member of the city watch in his home town of Hard-Dale and a veteran of the Last War, Clifford remembers being “elected” the town priest not long after he returned from the Wars. Clifford (never Cliff) vaguely remembers having been far brighter before taking the head wound that saw him discharged from Aundair’s army, and seems somewhat saddened by the slowing of his wit and speech. Clifford rarelyy speaks as a result of his embaressment. But when he does speak,the others have learned to listen, for good sense invariably follows.

Constance Amber D’Cannith, Female Human Artificer 1:

A first year student and disciple of Baron Merrix D’Cannith, her inexplicable fear of the man is overshadowed only by her idolising devotion. Amber (or Constance, she goes by either name) is a delightful and charming young woman. She is intelligent and vivacious, but has a lot to learn about how the world works. The lass will likely shed a few more tears- and illusions- along the way. Though bookish, she is charming and seems to be thoroughly impossible to dislike. A seventeen year old only child of elderly parents - parents she tearfully can barely remember- she has quickly become the darling of the entire party.

The last thing she remembers before joining the rest of the party is attending a costume ball in honour of her seventeenth birthday.

“Nine”. 9-60160. Male personality Warforged Fighter 1:

Nine is an unusual specimen. Despite the "fact" no-war forged had been created since the end of the Last War (six full years before Ruz and Nine encountered each other on the road outside Sharn) he is in seemingly pristine condition. His adamantine plating lacks even the smallest scratch or etching to mar it’s perfect surface. A s a result, Nine is very clearly a newly created Warforged. He has trouble understanding any situation from anything other than a tactical strongpoint and has yet to develop a strong personality of his own. He has become very protective of young Constance, whom he vaguely remembers as having been present at the moment of his "birth". Constance does not share his memory of this event.

Ruz: Male Changeling, Beguiler level 1:

Ruz is a soft-spoken changeling who seems to take a very moral attitude to the use of his racial abilities to deceive others, wearing his own form as much as possible. He appears to be a voice for reason and planning within the group and the others have very quickly learned to listen to his sound advice and judgement. The clever changing favours subtlety and intelligence over brute force and rash action. He is already growing into a leadership role within the party.

Thutson. Half-Orc Barbarian 1

Thutson is a mountainous piece of muscle. Though a member of the the Tribes of the Demon-Wastes, he can recall little of his past life - or how he came to be where he is. The outside world in which he finds himself seems strange to Thutson, and so rather than display his ignorance he has elected to keep his mouth shut for the time being. In this, he has shown himself to be far more canny than the others realise. Something of an oddity, he generally works well with the group despite his incommunicative nature. However, he is nothing if not reckless, and has already charged into combat once while the rest of the party clearly intended to stand their ground.

Next Post: Session One

Will explain the pc later. honest

2007-03-14T05:11:00.000Z

Victory at Last

2007-03-13T23:49:00.000Z

At last, a victory on the WAB battlefield, albiet a small won, and one acquired not more than a few hours ago at my regualr gaming group.

Colin and I had arranged a game using the Raid Secnario for a change of pace. This scenario, published in the Sheildwall rules, is meant to represent the conflict surrounding a raid on a small, poorly defended village. Its a race against time as 500pts of attackers race to defeat 250 of defenders before a relief column arrives.

As Colin plays Vikings (Norse from the Western Isles, to be precise) it naturally fell to him to be the agressor, while a small band of my Norman Milites, dismounted and lead by the local Comte, lead a hastily assembled milita in the defence of the village.

I neglected to take Colins army list home with me, so I will graciously ask him to publish it in the comments section after this post. However, oit consisted of four units, each of about 10-15 vikings, including one unit of Hirdsmen. Three of these units were armed with javelins, shields and light armour, the leftmost one deployed in skimrish formation. Behind the middle foot section (I hesitate to call such small bands units) came a section of archers.

In defence of the village, from left to right, were 12 dismounted Milites, with no leader, standard bearer or musician, crouched behind the patchy village walls. The gap where a gate would have been in a more affluent village was held by 2o farmworkers (stats taken from the Raid scenario) armed with handweapons (representing a mix of billhooks, sickles, hoes etc) arrayed in three ranks and led by the Comte himself. To the right of these qyuaking peasants, were five of the Cmotes servants, armed with improvised weapons and stones. Hiding in the village, were five women and children, well back from the action.

At first sight of the dragonships off the Normandy Coast, the Comte - handily visiting one of his bastards with a small escort of his Milites, sent his squire riding back to his castle to summon reinforcements. The scenario called for these reinforcements to begin arriving on a random dice roll at some point after turn 3.

The reinforcements would arrive in the form in 10 mounted milites (again, with no leader, musicians or standard bearer) who were hadily out hunting in the nearby woods. Accompanying them were twenty-one freemen armed with spears, who had been acting as beaters.

Alltogether, including reinforcements, this force amounted to some 750 points, most of them leadership 4 and leadership 5 peasants. Significantly, my "general" was only a Comte and therefore my army did not benefit from the Army General rule allowing all nearby troops to use the generals leadership.

The battle opened immediately badly for Colin. A volley of javelins and arrows aimed at the milites on the left brought down only one of the beaily armoured spearmen, In the centre, the Viking Mate and his captains most faithful retainers charged home against the farmworkers. As Vikings cause fear in units with a leadership of less than 7, a panic roll was required. This was failed, but the sheer numbers of men in the unit. along with the Comtes imposing presence, prevented the hastily assembled mob from fleeing. However, so terrified were they by the awesome reputation of the northman (and perhaps forgetting that their lords were themselves once vikings, that they would need a 6 to score a hit.

Unramarkably, all nine of the mighty Vikings who could reach a target managed to land a blow on their opponent (WS4 vilkings need a 3 or more on on a D6 to hit a WS2 foe) but incredibly only two suffered a wound and, without armour, fell to the ground in a heap. Egged on by the ferocious young Comte, the terrified peasant s struck back but only the Comte was able to land a blow (twice in fact) both of which were turned by the stout shields of the raiders. However, Colins glee turned to annoyance and then dismay as he first realised that my three ranks meant that I had won the combat despite his not loosing a single man and then watched his elite unit fail a panic test and flee.

The Comte, not yet wanting his men to leave the safety of the barricades and leaving their flanks open to attack, held the all-too-willing peasants under his command at the gate, allowing the viking elite to flee. Seeing this, the left most group which had thrown their javelins at the milites (actually lead by the Viking Captain) also broke and ran, as did the archers behinf the first group.

So it was that when the rightmost group of Vikings looked up in glee from the sight of two dead servants pilling their life blood behind the walls and three more turn and run, they saw the rest of their ships crew fleeing the field like women.

The Comtes timid peasant escrt were all too happy to remain within the village boundaries while the only other efective unit on the field, the milites, were old and canny veterens to wise to leave th e safety of the walls at this early stage in the battle. The only Norman movement was the three fleeing servants, whose flight took them near the five terrified mothers sheltering their children in the shadows of the rear wall. However, the five terrified women did not flee at the sight of the three pampered "castle boys" running towards them. They had faith in the stamina and bravery of their men.

So it was that, realising they were not pursued save for the jeers of their comrades on the right, the entire Viking army rallied. The archers took revenge by firing a volley into the peasants, killing several, while the centre group advanced once more towards the peasants and let fly with javelins, killing one more. Meanwhile, the left group of Vikings advanced tanatalisingly close to the Milite position on the left of the field, theri javelins felling another brave young knight in his prime. On the right, the bravest group of vikings on the field moved around to the right flank of the village, seeking entry through a gap in the poorly maintained village wall.

At this point, sensing his flank about to be turned and knowing that he was about to be assaulted on three quarters, lead his men, peasant and Milite alike, into a wild sally. Taken completly by surprise (no peasants had ever been foolish enough to actually attack THEM before) the viking veterns in the centre stood their ground and slew several peasants, but actually took more casualties than they inflicted and lost the combat AGAIN, although this time their desire for vengeance and plunder (as well as their shame) overcame their desire to live.

On the left, the surviving Milites charged over the wall and into the fray against the VIking Captain and his crew. A fierce melee ensued, in which the ferocity, toughness and numbers of the Vikings was negated by the skill and armour of the Norman warriors. Though many fell on both sides, Viking and Knight alike remained firm.

On the right, the three servants, shamed by the courage of the women, turned to gather stones and return to the fight (under the RAID special rules, units less than five strong o not automatically break and may rally). Bravely, three unarmed men moved towards the breech in the right flanking wall and three stones at a dozen armoured, rampaging vikings.

On the Viking turn, the archers moved towards the breech in support of their colleagues, whose javelins brought down only a single servant, while the other two remained steadfast in their defence of the cowering women and children behind them.

On the left, Viking and Milite struck simultaneously. heaby armour alone could not save the brave, but young, knights from the heavy blows of the norse captain and his men, but they reused to break and reduced the party facing them to just eight men against five battered and bloody survivors

In the centre, the Comte slew two vikings, and his men slew one more. Although by now reduced to a bare two ranks rank, there were now only 9 elite vikings facing the Comte and his ten surviving farmhands. The peasants refused to break and neither did the Vikings but the end was now in sight.

At this point it was now my turn 3 and the reinforcements could now enter the board. Colin's hopes had rested on getting his men entrneched in the village before these reinforcements arrvied (hence my charge on turn two to delay this and decrease the chance that his vkings could pursue beaten units into the villgae itself). Inside the village, they would be safe from a massed cavalry charge (the tightly packed huts meant I would only be able to charge my Mounted milites two knights breast, reducing the chance of an automatic break due to their ferocious charge ability). Additionally, two of his three melee units were reduced to a half dozen figures or so, the only one with more than ten was sitting with its flank exposed to any reinforcements within easy charge distance of my table edge and without the villages protective walls around it.

In addition to the knights, the unit fo libres I has purhased as reinforcement held nearly as manyu melee troops (21) as Colins entire army at this point, and while they carried only spears and had no armour protection, their rank bonus meant they would overrun anyone who would stand against them.

At this point, Colin conceeded, even without waiting for the reinforcement roll to be made. We both agreed that this time he had been the one killed by the dice (those farmhands should have been broken on turn one) but that the game had been fun overall. I suggested that next time we should both agree on a unit size cap and that I would leave out the Milites to keep things interesting past turn 3. In truth, mu inlcusion of mounted troops in my reinforcements really stacjed the deck in my favour.

COlin had gambled that he could have outflanked me due to his greater number of units, but he had lost sight of his objective by not sending his skirmishers on the left (led by his general) around the back of my line to torch buildings (25 vp per building) and kill the women and children (another 25 vp each ) while pinning my two main combat units (the farmhands and milites) in place with his other units.

I on thether hand, felt justified in sticking as many farmhands (at 2 points each)as I coudld afford into one big unit as I had to spend at least 50 points on villagers and needed to take at least 5 of each type (farmhand, servants and women/children). As the farmhands were the most melee competant I picked a large number of them to offset their hideous combat deficiency and give them my single permitted charavter as a leader. The gamble paid off (but just barely) and I should by rights have been loosing four of five or them a turn.

I do believe however, that taking the horsemen (while realistic- after all, who else would be able to get to the village in time to save it if not horseman) was not sportsmanlike. At the very least, I could have made them flemish, taking away the lances and fercoious charge so that colins troops would have some chance against them. But to competely fair, next time I will leave mounted troops out altogether.

Next week, 2000 pts vs Julians Moors and then a Lord of the Rings scenario the week after.

Moorish Battle Report

2007-02-26T01:04:00.000Z

This is a report of a battle that took place slightly after Xmas at Glasgow Gaming Group (G3 to it's friends). Ive been meaning to put it up for some time as it has been sitting on my hard drive at home. However, with no home internet access and no disk drives in the PCs at work, it has taken me this long to publich it. Thankfully, the happy day when my broadband was installed has come and gone. Regular blog service will resume immediately. Arn't you pleased?

THIRD TIMES THE CHARM!

Prince Eduardo d’Rolas, Counte de Toledo set his stallion prancing merrily back and forth amidst the rank of his grinning men, knowing that in all the mounted host around them, not one man could be happier than he. He rode at the head of the finest band of mounted warriors his city could produce, Cabbelero Hidalgoes, with their bright lance points and pennants jutting into the breeze, mounted Jinites, farmers too poor for armour but rich enough to own a fine horse waved javelins in the air. Lance armed serjeants, the Cabelleros Villainous, rich merchants son and poorer knights, thumped leather-gloved hands against chests and thrust lances skyward. While more conservative knights, still favouring the hit and run tactics of javelin and throwing spear, clanged the hafts of their weapons against their shields.

Finally, after one bloody defeat and an even bloodier stalemate against the armies of the dreaded Berber El-Julian, Eduardo could taste the victory in the air. He, the young prince, had out-manouvred the wily old general. The African had concentrated his heavy forces of Berber spear-men and mercenary Christian Knights ("Traitors!" spat Eduardo) in the centre, leaving only a thin line of skirmishing archers and cross-bowmen to defend his left. A left against which Eduardo had carefully moved his entire wing of massed cavalry. Soon, his Cabelleros Villainous and Cabelleros would crash through the skirmish line, threaten the enemy rear and eventually join in the slaughter as the shock cavalry charged home.
Victory was inevitable. Only a fool could lose this battle.

*************************************

This was indeed, the third battle between Julians Almohad Army and my own. In the first two, I had used my Norman list. The first battle was a total rout for the Christian forces due to some bad positioning on my part. The second battle was a bloody stalemate (with two equal strength, quality units battling it out on each side at the end of the game) that could have gone either way but in the end tipped in Julians favour. This one would be different. For one thing, I was using an "in-book" army, Spanish Christians, to fight Julians Berbers. For another, I now had a larger selection of troops types. In the first two games, I had been forced to pit the same army I used against Colin’s vikings against an Army crawling with spearmen and archers. That’s right, my army, a third of whose points were tied up in a single shock cavalry unit, with only twelve archers in the whole host, went up against an army which historically tore cavalry based forces apart with missile fire until they had no choice but to charge the spearmen head on and be torn up some more.

* Sigh * I was so hoping he’d be fielding Andalusians.

Now though, I had invested in ten Cabelleros Villainous (handily usable as Serjents in my Norman army), Seven Jinites (also usable as Javilin and Throwing spear armed Serjents) and Seven Cabelleros (Knights on horseback with Javelins and usable as Breton knights in my Norman army). This gave me more options, as well as the ability to draw his spearmen units of out position with my two units of fire and flee skirmishing cavalry. I was much more confident about this battle. And after set-up was over, I knew from a glance I would win. Whats more, from the expression on Julians face when he remembered light cavalry could skirmish through rough terrain, my opponent knew it too. Bwahahahahah! Sweet revenge was to be mine!

Photo’s: Alas, my camera packed in on the way to the club. No big loss really, since most of our stuff was still naked and I wont be able to upload the images anyway on account of my broadband still not having been installed. Next time though, I promise.

Scenery:
From left to right: On my side of the table sat a patch of rocky ground we would treat as rough terrain. Almost directly opposite (but slightly to my right) on Julians side of the board sat a high hill. To the left of this, in the centre of the table, sat a field of standing crops (central to my plan, and placed by me:, something that drew some very curious looks from Julian). Just to the left of this on my side was a small ruin (also placed by me, restricting charge lanes in the centre and confusing Julian even more) and finally, also on my side of the table, a small wood.

Armies & Deployment:

The Christians.

Despite knowing full well that Juliens army would be chock full of spearmen and archers I had deliberately gone for 2000 points dominated by mounted troops, strange as that may seem. The plan was to concentrate these mounted troops on one flank opposite Juliens archers, concentrate against that point of the line and break through, then roll up the sides. Consequently, I deliberately deployed my foot archers (aquelleros) and two units of spearmen towards the centre, drawing in Julians own heavy forces.

My Army (2000pts) (from left to right):

Left Flank

7 Cabelleros (Skirmishing Knights) Light Armour, Shield, Horse, Javelins and Throwing Spears. Leader, SB, Musician
Positioned just behind the rough patch of rocks on my left. Skirmish formation.

7 Jinites (Light Cavalry), Shield, Horse, Javelin, Throwing Spears, Leader. These were positioned just to the right of the Cabelleros and were also in skirmish formation with the crop-field on their right.

10 Cabelleros Villainous (Light Shock Cavalry), Shield,Horse, Lance, Leader, SB and Musician. PLUS the unit was led by a Cantador who came up with nothing on the Song Effects table. These were positioned directly behind the Jinetes.

10 Cabelleros Hidalgos (Heavy Shock Cavalry) Shield, Warhorse, Lance, Heavy Armour, Leader etc plus two characters: Unit Commander Prince Eduardo (actually using the Rey statline) and the Army Standard Bearer.

These were positioned just to the right of the Villainos. Yes, that’s right, directly behind the crop-field. Strange eh?

Centre:

21 Peones (Light Spearmen) Shield, Spear, Javelins. Leader etc. These were positioned into the narrow gap between the crop-field on their left and the ruins on their right.

21 Mercenary Spearmen (heavy Spearmen). Large Shield, Spear, Javelins, Leader etc. These troops were stubborn and deployed directly behind the Peones.

Centre-Right:

The ruins were held by 11 Skirmishing Artelleros, or archers, armed with bows.

Right:
10 Skirmishing Artelleros, armed with bows, positioned in the woods.

ENEMY DEPLOYMENT

This isn’t very exact in terms of troop numbers and equipment as I’m operating from memory once again. Check the comments at the bottom of the post. Maybe Julian will give a fuller breakdown later. Julian really played into my hands with his deployment, something he realised himself very early on the game.

From my Left to my Right:

12 Skirmishing Archers: Positioned directly opposite the rough ground and to the left of Juliens hill. Facing my Cabelleros.

12 Skirmishing Archers: Placed directly in front of the hill, facing my Jinites.

12 Skirmishing Crossbowmen: Directly behind the Archers and on the crest of the hill.
Centre:

20 Berber Spearmen and five archers led by Army General and Standard Bearer. Just to the right of the hill.

20 Berber Spearmen and five archers. To the right of the previous unit.

24 Black Guard Spearmen with large shields, light armour and javelins (NOT, as I incorrectly assumed, armed with spears- I would suffer for this assumption later).

All three o the units stood opposite the crop field, though the Black Guard stood opposite my Spear units.

12 Christian Knights. Traitors (Yahboo!) Complete with lances and ferocious Charge. Exactly to the right of the Black Guard.

Right:

12 Javelin and Shield armed skirmishers.

THE PLAN:

Julian had played right into my hands. Broadly, I had deliberately denied my right (as had Julian) and lured Julien into my lightly held centre by offering a nice juicy target. I must admit to being surprised that he stood by and watched as I placed as those Horsemen on my left, but by then he couldn’t place his Spearmen on the left even if he wanted to, as that flank was already pretty much crawling with skirmishers by this point. The plan was to hold the right flank with my archers and to cautiously move my spears alongside the crop-field. I was hoping Julien would forget in the heat of the moment that the leading Peones were light infantry. This would enable me to spring a nasty surprise on him if it worked.

Meanwhile, on the left, the Jinites would make towards the Archers at the base of the hill as if to charge them, only to veer off suddenly and distract the spearmen to the right of the hill with javelins fire. I must admit that I was a bit worried about this tactic when I saw all those archers at the back of those units, but as I was willing to write of my Jinetes as an expendable unit anyway this was no great concern. Meanwhile, the Villainos, having sneaked into charge range of the corssbowmen BEHIND the archers, would charge. If I was lucky, they would hit the crossbowmen after wiping out the archers and if the archers fell back voluntarily, I’d have the crossbowman as a starter.

The Cabelleros meanwhile, were to destroy the archer unit operating before them. With the left flank gone, I would then have skirmishing cavalry behind Juliens spearmen, Shock Cavalry in front, and Spearmen threatening his centre.

It all seemed so nice and simple, I could practically see it as if it had already happened.

TURN 1

The game opened with the traditional missile barrage after all the skirmishers on my side of the table (save those in the ruins) took their free skirmish move. I lost a pair of Jinites to this fire, but the more heavily armed Cabelleros were able to shrug off the few arrows that hit. Julien made a mistake here (in my opinion) by firing his crossbows as the Jinites instead of the Cabelleros. After all, he already had a good chance of killing the Jinites with the bows but the crossbows would have reduced the Cabelleros saving throws by from 4 to 5. And as the Cabelleros posed the greater threat I would have gone for them. Still, Julien WAS trying to break those Jinites in the first turn (he knew fine well what my plan was) and in the end it may well have paid off.

The only other movement was from the right, where the javelin men ran towards my archers in the woods. Meanwhile, the mercenary knights began a long wheel that would take them across the front of the spear unit and towards my left flank. The Black Guard marched forward towards my Peones.

On my side, my Left Flank thundered forward, the Jinites and Cabelleros moving into Javelin range with the Villains behind them. Meanwhile, the Hidalgo’s executed a lovely little manouvre that slotted them in directly behind the Villanos. My javelin throwing was pretty poor, killing only a single archer despite a total of nine hit’s. My Peones also managed a particularly fine set of throws against the Mercenary knights now riding parrallel to the crop field towards the left of the battlefield. The knights were hit in the back by 6 of the seven missiles but only two managed to wound the heavily armoured warriors . Both these tough knights shrugged their injuries off.

TURN 2:

Julians forces opened fire again. The combined fire of 21 archers proved too much for the Jinites. Reduced to just two warriors, they turned tail and fled. Earlier than I had hoped true, but this was a minor setback which did not alter my plans at all.

The crossbowmen had an unusually lucky day, bringing down FOUR of the dangerous Cabelleros Villanous. The two units of Berber spearmen rotated to face my left at an oblique angle while the Black Guard guard continued to advance. The mercenary knights positioned themselves so they would be able to charge my own knights in the flank if they advanced any further, this took some manouvreing to set up the correct angle and in the end they did not travel a great distance.

Meanwhile, the javelin men closed to missile range but failed to injure any of the skirmishers in the woods.

With a great and rousing yell, the cavalry charge on the left began. The left most unit of Berber Archers unwisely chose to stand and shoot (not that they had anywhere to run too) and faced the terrifying sighte of 5 of Toledoo’s finest knights thundering towards them. However, despite scoring several hits, only one of the knights wounded their opponent and the stubborn archers refused to run before the bewildered mounted warriors.

On the right, the Villainos and their musical leader were equally bewildered. The archers had broken and run before them as expected, but the thunderous charge of the six remaining lance armed Villanous into the scattered ranks of Crossbows had an extremely un-nerving effect – on the Villainos. Despite hitting four of the crossbowmen with their lances, no less than three of them had the affront to pick themselves up and carry on! What was going on, were their weapons made of wood (well, yes, the lance shafts were but...). Had some villain replaced their steel points with candlewax fakes? Whats more, the seemingly immortal crossbowmen managed to slay yet another of the mounted Spaniards as he stared in tearful bewilderment at the shaft of his ineffective lance. The combat was a draw!!!

Not only that, the crossbowmen also had a musician, forcing a roll off and ensuring that it was the ViILLAINOS who lost the combat!!!!! What on earth was going on? Luckily, the Cantador managed to steady the nerves of his men with a rousing song and the remaining five warriors fought on.

(Yup, I failed to wound a str 3, nearly armorless target three times with a STR 5 attack!!!! Needing just threes to wound!)

Meanwhile, as every other Christian unit on the battlefield looked on with feelings ranging from confusion (for the Spaniards) to amused laughter (from the Christian mercenaries who’d swapped out the Spanish war-lances for tourney lances the knight before), the Peones crept steadily through the crops to creep within charge range of the Mercenary rear. Grinning at the thought of again loosening their missiles upon the traitors, they became confused in the mire and could not quite reach as close as they had hoped.

(I gleefully spotted an opportunity to take advantage of my light infantry. Julian had moved the Mercenary knights seemingly out of javelin range leaving their backs exposed to the Peoni. I tried to march move my javelins within eight inches of them, preventing the knights from marching away or charging (or counter-charging for that matter!). This would leave own knights (the Hidalgos) in a perfect position to charge the Mercenaries across the corner of the field the next turn without having to worry about a counter-charge from their opposite numbers on the Berber side of the battlefield. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! I laughed the most bestest, most maniacal "I`m an evil genius and your screwed" laugh I ever laughed only to choke on it when Julien pointed out that my peoni were only 7 and ¾ inches away from his knights to begin with. Meaning that I couldn’t march my Peoni up to Juliens rear because Juliens knights were a formed unit within 8" of ME!!!!! GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

And what was worse, with my failure to march, my poor old Peoni were now right slap bang in the charge range of Julians elite Black Guard infantry. DOUBLE GAAAAHHHHHH! I mean, what’s an evil genius to do? I’d ended up trapping myself! The Peoni manouvre was supposed to clear the way for my own elite mercenary spearmen to move forward and engage the enemy elite. Now all they could do was shuggle off slightly to one side and watch the impending slaughter.

Thats what I get for forgetting the first rule of warfare (real and tabletop) KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID!!!

TURN 3

As might be expected, the Black Guard charge hit home. Half-in-the-field, half-out, most of the troops barely able to see the enemy through the crops or even catch a glimpse of their own banner, a full third went of the unit went down to Black Guard (led by their hate inspiring Imam) before the remainder turned and ran. They had put up a brave struggle, with three of the black guard being struck by spears or javelins which failed to wound (again!). But, alas, Julian was not sharing my dice troubles this day. Soon not only had the remainder of the unit been chased down, but they ran smack into my merc infantry as well before they could even fire off a single javelin. Ah well. Ah hell!

Just as obviously, the skirmishers on my right charged the archers in the wood. A hilarious combat ensued, in which not one of my archers was even hit. On the other hand not one of the four African hit by arrows suffered a wound although THANKFULLY one at least succumbed to an archers dagger across the throat. If anything, this wretched incident probably increased my woeful "wounds to hit" average for the night. Even Julien couldn’t believe it.

He could believe it even less when not one of my Cabelleros failed to hit a Berber archer and yet I still only managed to kill one of the little buggers! Then the cheeky little bowmen turned round and killed two of my knights!!! I couldn’t believe it. What was going wrong? The plan, the plan.

Eduardo’s bowels turned to jelly. How could those measly little archers have held out against those knights for so long, with their swords, javelins and throwing spears.

"Hold on", thought Eduardo. "Throwing Spears"? The young prince slapped his hand against his face and shouted across the battlefield at his cavalry caommanders. "You idiots, you forgot to launch your throwing spears when you charged!". Across the battlefield (and across the table) El-Julian (and his real-life counterpart) began giggling girlishly.

As if that were not bad enough, the Villainos again failed to wound a single crossbow-man. To add misery to the situation, the crossbow-men hit back, dropping all but the standard bearer, the musician and the warrior-minstrel, the Cantador. These three worthies all promptly turned their "tales" (pun intended, sorry) and fled (as was the Python reference), right past the general and army banner bearer. Indeed, Eduardos cries were not enough to steel the blood of his finest warriors, the Cabelleros Hidalgo’s, and only the presence of Toledo’s great banner kept these proud men from running off themselves.

What a disaster! Could things get any worse?

They did, in the very first turn of the combat, the charging Black Guard managed to win the combat by a large margin, killing three of my spearmen for no losses. After such a horrendous start, only their stubborn ability saved them. And now, in the first round of combat, it was gone already. I didn’t even have anyone left who could strike back. (Does that mean I had my first 100% hit to wound ratio of the game? You know, given that I didn’t actually fail any wound rolls?)

The farce on the right continued, with not a single combatant killed, or even wounded, despite the fact I had charged my second archer unit (the one in the ruins) into the fray at the beginning of the turn. Again, it was a drawn combat, with the javelin men and archers chasing each other with daggers through the woods like elves and goblins playing a game of hide and seek.

Only on the left was there eventually some success, as the Cabelleros FINALLY drove of the last of their opponents, catching them just before the edge of the table. The cheering knights suddenly felt the party atmosphere drain away when the leader tapped one of them on the shoulder and pointed at the 22 very nasty looking crossbowmen and archers on hill to their left. All of whom appeared to be leering in their general direction.

And worst of all, the most embaressing incident of all befell poor Eduardo and his knights. Seeing that all was lost and knowing decisive action was needed to save the day, the brave youth led his knights charging across the corner-field towards their treacherous brethren (say, wasn’t that the fellow in front the chap who so kindly donated those extra lances the other night?) only to fall a short by a HUGE distance.

Yeah, like a whole ¼ inch. At this point Eduardo began to realise that this was not going to be his day. However, it was only seven thirty and we had a whole evening to kill so we kept on playing.

TURN 4 and Juliens turn FIVE

On turn four, Julien, not wanting to risk a counter-charge from my knights, marched them back the way they had came and proceeded to pelt the Hidalgos with crossbow bolts (as it happened, it only took the archers to finish off the last three Cabelleros. This they did by charging them. Despite hitting with every single attack and actually wounding twice (Hurrah!) only one archer was killed (the other saved by his light armour). Since one of my own knights perished, this would ordinarily have been a drawn combat. Alas, both units had musicians this time, and the Cabelleros lost the roll. So, in total, a loss of 22 mounted figures (including one character) in return for the loss of just over a dozen skirmishers. Not a bad return on his investment for Julian.

An investment that grew after the crossbowmen slew one of the Hidalgos. "Sod this for a lark" said Eduardo, and the Hidalgos duplicated the manouvre of their Mercenary companions, heading back to their own edge of the field and towards the centre.

Meanwhile, on the far right, the archers finally managed to make their wounds rolls and slew three of the Berber Javelin-men. The remainder broke. Typically, both archer units failed their leadership tests and set off in pursuit. Only five inches though, placing both in a rather useful position to charge the flank of the Black Guards in the next few turns – hopefully breaking them before those mercenary knights arrived!

The fight on the centre was quickly developing into a stalemate. Unable to wound a bloody thing I was at least proving to be successful with my armour saves for a change. Thankfully, I had decided to buy mercenary spearmen who could be equipped with a large shield rather than the Guard Spearmen who had an extra point of BS because without this extra point the whole unit would have broken long before.

However, despite the next 3 rounds of combat (Juliens turn 4 and 5 and my turn 4) being technical draw’s, I had to make break tests each time because of Juliens African Drums.
I lost my round of combat on turn 4 despite the fact I had charged the black guard in the flank with one unit of skirmishers, who actually succeeded in killing more black guard than the spearmen had in the last two turns. Alas, these chaps did NOT pass the break test and ran away.

In the meantime, the crossbows continued to play merry havoc on my Hidalgos, despite a march-move, killing two more.

MY TURN 5

"AT LAST" screamed Eduardo as he led his surviving mounted troops into a charge against the Black Guard. Clearly eager to make up for his previous arrogance, Eduardo fought like the demon he (as a good Christian) certainly was not. All three of his lance attacks hit, all three wounded (needing only twos) and all three actually killed! Hurrah! Eduardo screamed to the heavens as his blood boiled. Victory was not lost! Around him, his knights accounted for two more of the Black Guard and another pair fell beneath the hooves of their horses.

The Mercenaries, cheered by the presence of the man who was paying their pay-checks (and wishing to ensure he lived to deliver their wages) found new life in their exhausted limbs and brought down two more. The slaughter would have been far greater had the second unit of archers been able to partake of it, but their path to the slaughter was blocked by their fleeing comrades, who had suddenly stopped to watch was going on with great interest. (Raising the question: why can’t skirmishers charge through skrimishers? That rule makes no sense).

Only a single Spanish warrior (a spearman) was killed in return. This would truly have been a great victory, but despite the ferocious charge the Black Guard had thus far been victorious and so while they wavered, they stubbornly held their ground.

TURN 6

The last two units of spearmen (who up to know had done nothing except for the archers in their back ranks) moved to take up killing positions running north to south in a line perpendicular to line of the Black Guards anticipated retreat. This line consisted of the remaining archer skirmishers to the north, spearmen led by the general just to the south and the last unit of spearmen practically in the crop field. Meanwhile, the mercenary knights charged the unit of archers which had just rallied and drove them off again .

My luck had truly turned by this point. All the knights managed to do was kill one archer. My own archers managed to kill a knight but as they had a standard and ferocious charge the archers broke regardless of their feat. Alas, the pursuing knights crashed straight into the second Spanish archer unit, who had already watched in terror as their companions and neighbours fell beneath the hooves of these heathens!

With the arrival of the Spanish Knights, the Black Guard were clearly in danger of routing. Miraculously however, they held on for a another round thanks to the presence of their hatred inspiring Imam and the African drums, though by the end of Turn 6 less than a dozen were still in the fight. However, on my turn 6 the Mercenary Knights again won their combat (again, with one casualty on either side – go archers!) and ran the fleeing Spaniards down.

Turn 7

With a mighty shout, Eduardo strikes down the Imam and the remaining Black Guard break into a panic and flee. Despite the bellowing of their Prince and Army Standard Bearer, the 5 Hidalgoes and the remaining Spearmen pursue the four fleeing Berbers into the gauntlet of death and slay them all. Their glory is short lived however, for the Spearmen, charged in the flank, panic with the loss of yet one more comrade and flee despite the fall of a traitor knight to another spearman’s sword. The hero is the first to fall, as his comrades flee around him and the mercenary leader closes in for the kill....

Eduardo and his knights have no time to mourn this latest loss however. In that same instant they are charged by the skirmishing archers, the Berber general and his spearmen. Though no knights fall and a single archer does, with the flank attack bonus, their many ranks and their standard, the Berbers win the combat (one last humiliation for Eduardo). Despite their horses, blown from a long day of charging about the battlefield, the Knights are caught and killed to a man. Eduardo himself is the last to fall, unable to pry himself loose from the stirrup of his panicking horse he is dragged a god twenty feet before coming to rest. The last thing he see’s is the grinning face of El-Julian before an African Spear pierces his broken heart.

Meanwhile, atop a ridge, the last three survivors of Eduardo’s army, three cowardly Villianos, watch their masters death... and remember.

CONCLUSION
What was that saying about eggs and chickens? I really believed I had the game in the bag. What’s more, so did Julien. Who (very gleefully, I might add) assured me more than once that "my dice are killing you." That’s what I get for using my opponents dice. The battle was incredibly bloody. In fact, from my entire army, only three models survived the battle – and that’s only because they ran of the battlefield after the crossbowmen didn’t pursue them in turn X!!!! For all that, Julian lost an Imam, his best spear unit and two units of skirmishers. Not a bad days work for a war-gamer. Certainly a game to remember, filled with moments of gore, bloodshed and riddled with moments of gratuitous laughter (universally at my expense). But how could I have lost?

Well, mostly it was luck. That, and my own supreme arrogance and smugness. I have to learn to keep my plans and my ploys simple. Too complicated just means too much that can go wrong. Secondly I need to stop forming up columns. Sure their good for deception purposes and for screening more valuable troops, but they often just get in the way –even when you have (or especially even when you have) a nifty manouvre planned. Remember Brian, these arn’t trained soldiers your working with, they’re little lead figures with no minds of their own. Oh, and distance, Distance, DISTANCE! When I am ever going to learn to judge distances. Twice I was let down by my ability to estimate an inch at a glance, and it hurt me both times.

Other things to remember:

7 Mounted Skirmishers in a unit is not enough. They reach the automatic break point far too quickly. Ten is better.

I need crossbows. (On order since before Xmas)

Sticking archers into a spear unit works very wel defensively. It will up my rank bonuses while keeping that seven long frontage I like so much for aesthetic reasons (lets you have the leader in the middle and 3 on each side. Five miniatures across just doesn’t look right) and will discourage folk from charging or sending in skirmishers.

REMEMBER the rules! You didn’t spend all those points on throwing spears for nothing.

Buy a Crusader Bishop for next game. Hidalgos rock! Hidalgos with HATRED (and who therefore re-roll failed attacks) are rock harder!

Bring a rulebook next time!
And oh yeah,
DONT USE JULIANS DICE!!!

Retribution

2007-02-03T12:41:00.000Z

After a quick trip to town, the party return to the mines (Otter still hasn't seen fit to share his name with the rest of the party and so will forever after be known as "that elf!"). This time, the party manages to get the drop on the inevitable sentries/scouts and a brief slaughter ensues.

As a result, when the party enters the secret complex just off the mining tunnel, there is no twenty strong party of Goblin Legionaries. "Thank the Light for that", mutters Edgar before setting about the four unfortunates in the guard room. These four dead goblins are quickly joined by another four in the dormitory. With this, the party sneaks further into the complex, retracing the route taken on their earlier expedition, but avoid the dark room full of dire rats. The party quickly find the loot room, wherein the stolen silver shipment can be found (In four crates which have been nailed shut). We try to open them only to have Bill gleefully announce theirs no way we can take the lid off with bare hands. To which I crowingly holdup my character sheet with "crowbar" underlined several times. Bill acknowledges that even we five incompetents should be able to open a locked crate with a crowbar and lets us get on with it.

"We're rich!" Announce the others, "We're giving it back!" announces Edgar. "Can we at least claim a finders fee?" asks an exasperated (and disappointed) Worrick. Edgar thinks for a moment and concedes, "Sure, that sounds legal", but in any case it quickly proves to be a moot point as Bill explains that as a job lot the haul weighs about 15,000 lbs. Well, we HAD been thinking of coming back with a wagon or too, so that revelation was not exactly disappointing.

(15,000lbs worth of silver!!!!! Now that's what I call a finders fee!")

Alas, the noise of the lid being hammered shut (remember that hammer I bought huh?) brought unwanted attention in the form of two dire rats. We all suddenly realise just how much harder we are now we've reached second level when both expire without so much as scratching our armour.

We progress to the next room, which turns out to be a kitchen. With moving bags of flour. Oh okay. Hold on, what did Bill just say? Two seconds later, a particularly ratty squeak sounds out as Edgar shoots a flour bag with his newly acquired crossbow (traded in for the longbow when he became a cleric). A second dire rat shoots out of a second bag only to fall to an expert shot courtesy of good old Otter.

Huzzah!

Not long after, the party finds a secret room, its door protected by a poison needle trap. Worrick makes short work of the trap and soon the party enters a long thin room with a chest at the far end. Worrick carefully seeks out any traps. There are none, immediately making the party suspicious. Their suspicions only grow when the chest is opened to reveal: absolutely nothing.

Not having any of this, Edgar suggests there must be a false bottom. He's not TOO far wrong when Worrick announces he's found a secret button. When pressed, the chest recedes into a small alcove revealing a shining silvery bladed sword in a small niche beneath the chest.

Edgar is extremely chuffed and, as the parties second best melee type and the only one who uses a sword with any frequency, is immediately chuffed when the rest of the party allow him to claim the blade for himself. He is less chuffed, when he notes the blood-scribbled note attached to the blade. Especially when he realises it was left by a dying warrior who fell at the hands of the foul "demoness" who rules the mine!!!

At last, Edgar thinks, a challenge worthy of a knightly member of his Order. There could be some glory to be had from this foul little escapade after all! The remaining party members are not so optimistic. Sealing the secret door behind them, they mull over this new revelation as they rest.

Return to Goblin Mine

2007-01-25T17:58:00.000Z

Report from last nights game of D&D:

The battered party made its way swiftly back to town, pausing only briefly along the way so that Edgar could tend to Servila's wounds. He also spent some time cleaning his own injuries, but evidently did not do so well a job.

Reaching the town in the early evening, the four survivors were already planning their next expedition to the mines and lamenting their own lack of preparation. Edgar in particular, as the most responsible member of the party, was particularly harsh on himself and soon had a well planned shopping list with which to enter the fray.

However, not long after entering the inn, Edgar felt himself in need of a sudden yet extended trip to the privy. This was no doubt excellent timing, as Jaguar Paws ugly cousin choose this moment to approach the company regarding the fate of his cousin. He had arrived in town earlier that day, expecting to meet his kinsman in town and escort the party further into the wilderness only to learn that he had gone off goblin-hunting with two humans and a half-orc. Needless to say he was understandably suspicious to see three battered individuals matching their description with no . Jaguar Paw in sight, but the party successfully turned the elf warriors thoughts towards vengeance and the reclamation of his kinsman's body. ("Not that there'll be much left" Karl the idiot offered cheerfully).

The still somewhat suspicious elf refused to offer his name (in true 1970's D&D fashion, Andy hadn't figured out a name yet) and a weary Edgar retired from the table early, complaining of a headache.

The next morning the Paladin looked awful, but braved the dangers of a shopping expedition to purchase a crowbar, a small hammer, some nails (pitons actually, but they'll do the trick) rope, a lantern and some oil. He was heartily disappointed to find no evidence of a collapsible 10 ft pole salesman in town. Severa got to carry the rope and Karl elected to carry the lantern, the wizard helpfully offering to buy additional oil himself. By the time Edgar had purchased some travel rations (the others swiftly followed his example, although it was the elf's suggestion) the young warrior was now profoundly skint.

This was not, therefore, the best of all possible times to come down with an attack of Swamp Fever. Shaking and wracked with pains, Edgar sweated out the illness for three days. During this period, the young warrior;s favoured ravings unlocked some hidden potential and understanding of white magic, and he suddenly became a cleric.

{{{{{ Actually, about half way through the session, the three "elder" characters levelled up. By this point it was obvious we needed a cleric. John had bravely volunteered to take on the role of "White Wizard" and I even more bravely managed to avoid pissing myself at the hilarious thought of a wisdom 4 "white wizard" who couldn't even cast o lvl spells! Bless em.

Anyway, Bill quite rightly wondered where the character had had time to learn this stuff (I half-heartedly suggested he had learned the basics during his training as a Paladin) but offered to let us revise things so that Edgar was a cleric rather than a Paladin. After all, I hadn't even used any Paladin abilities and if I took the War domain, by base attack bonus with the sword (Edgar's main weapon) would not change due to the Weapon Focus feat that comes with the Domain. I happily agreed, briefly redesigned the character to take into account what skills he had used and which could be replaced and viola, a traumatic illness unlocks the hidden mastery of white magic within our earnest young adventurer. }}}}}

On the fourth day, the party set out for the Mines and adventure. The elf spots a goblin scouting party which is quickly taken down by a volley of sleep spells and some mad axe-swinging by Severa (what is that orcs name!). However, one escapes. Edgar, knowing that surprise has been lost, decides to interrogate the survivors in Goblin. He at first does not believe the goblins when they say they number in the hundreds but is somewhat relieved to discover the absence of any "females and cubs". He can now comfortably hack away secure in the knowledge that he is killing bandits and not depriving some young goblin family somewhere of their breadwinner. He is even more relieved by the thought that he will not be faced with the moral quandary of what to do with a horde of female and young goblin prisoners.

He earnestly suggests taking them back to town as a good public trial and hanging will help the locals to develop trust in authority. The others can't be bothered arguing with their young companion ("that illness has addled his head," "goblin-lover" etc) and simply set about slitting some throats.

Edgar is not chuffed at this cavalier treatment of the rules of war, but as there is not much he can do about it he carries on towards what will no doubt be an unpleasant welcome.

At the secret entrance to the hidden complex within the mine, the part stop and formulate a plan. Woreck will open the door and dive to the ground, Karl will sleep the no doubt ready occupants, Severa and Edgar will step inside and flank the open doorway which the Elf will then be able to shoot through.

Alas, it does not go to plan as the goblins win initiative. As the door swings open, Woreck dives to the ground as nearly a dozen thrown daggers whiz over his head towards Karl, whose mage-armour spell luckily gives him protection. The party are faced by no less than twenty goblins, arrayed in perfect, ordered ranks. The front rank kneels with their weapons held in preparation to receive a charge. The rear rank has just fired.

Severa and Edgar bound in to their planned positions, hoping that what they expect to be coming next does not happen. Karl casts his sleep spell, snoozing a small swathe through the goblin lines and the Elf lets fly with an arrow.

Then, the rear goblins rank advances to take up defensive positions in front of what was the front rank, and the front rank goblins now throw THEIR daggers from the rear. Most of these are targeted at the obviously dangerous-looking Severa and Edgar. Edgar is protected by his shield but Severa is not so lucky.

Angry and not fancying another volley, Severa charges the right most flank of the goblin lines, swiftly followed by Edgar. While Severa hacks her way through the massing goblins, Edgar works to protect her flanks. Meanwhile, the Elf shoots down any goblins who get too close or who try to flank the two warriors while Karl sets about sleeping the goblin left under the protection of Woreck. Although the fight is by no means easy, it soon becomes clear that the badly bleeding Severa and the barely scratched Edgar have the upper hand as they (mostly Severa actually) cleave down goblin after goblin. The last unengaged goblins try a desperate dash towards Karl, but not before he sleeps them all, and, as the battle on the right flank gradually winds down, the Elf, Karl and Woreck gradually set about slitting sleeping throats. As the last goblin jugular parts from the surrounding membrane, the last fighting goblin finally drops.

Karl is near-exhaustion from the strain of wielding so many spells so quickly. Edgar is only mildly wounded but Severa has taken many minor wounds which, though not dangerous alone, have together left her very weakened and sick. Edgar proposes barricading the secret door and leaving the door into the long corridor open, leaving someone to stand guard while the others rest. He is loathe to give up this ground they have sweated and bled for twice. The others talk him down however, despite his protests that they may very well have to go through this very same battle tomorrow. In the end, he assents and the party leave.

They run into another goblin party on the way. These six goblins fall even more easily and the return to the town is otherwise uneventful. It is at this point that the Bill announces that the party, having just taken down an Challenge rating 5 encounter (considered an average encounter for four 5th level characters) with surprising ease given their fate at the hands of mere dire rats, are deserving of a level increase. Or at least, everyone but the Elf (whose name, btw, is Otter Hunts Alone, although he has yet to introduce himself to the others characters).

It is at this point that a little revisionist history (story-editing, we calls it!) takes place and it is decided that Edgar shall become a second level "White Wizard" (Cleric). Severa toys with the idea of taking a barbarian level (but just the one though) but settles for a second level of fighter and a new feat while Karl advances as a wizard and learns some cool new spells.

Next: Part II of last nights session: Retribution (and that doesn't mean what you might think).

The Party (currently):

Edgar: Human male Lawful Good Cleric level 2. War and Strength Domains.

Karl: Human male WIzard 2 of undisclosed alignment.

Otter-Hunts-Alone: Elf male Ranger 2 of undisclosed alignment. (By the way, Andy did change the stats round slightly. Otter is even uglier than his cousin was.)

Severa: Half-Orc female Fighter 2 of undisclosed alignment.

Woreck (NPC): Human Rogue of undisclosed level and undisclosed alignment.

INFINITE IDEAS. FINITE SUMS OF CASH

2007-01-23T17:44:00.000Z

Well, this si my second Tuesday in a row with no gaming and I`m feeling the DDT's already. My flatmate Andy has been kind enough to let melook through the new Infinity rulebook that he picked up for £20. And worth every penny it is too.

The system is intriguing, with players alternating between being the active and the reactive player. In any given turn, the "active" player move' and fights with his forces just like in any other game. On the other hand, the reactive player can interrupt thr "active" players turn to perform "skill" actions. Such as attempting to discover a camoflaged moving nearby, alerting other nearby alies to the presence of an emeamy figure that has revealed itself or taking an opportunistic snap shot at some fool moving out of cover!

I have to say, it seem's like a very "realistic" way of simulating combat. Far more accurate, for example, than other turn-based systems such as Necromunda, Inquisitor or even Space Lords (yes, I remember Space Lords. Kev at the club has a copy). In fact, the system truly encourages fire team scale combat and realistic tactics ( i.e using one fire team to provide suppressive fire while another closes in for the kill. It encourages cautious play and realisitc use of cover as well. The combat system is appropriately deadly.

Having never played the game, I can honestly say that it looks as good on paper (perhaps better even) than my own personal favorite modern/sci-fi skirmish games: Charlie Company and Star Grunt.

My one gripe is the troops selection. (This is the historic war gamer in me. Or perhaps the ex-soldier. I like my games to feel authentic in every way). The game is played at the 1:1 "platoon skrimish" scale. The "general" for example, is called the Lieftenant. So, strictly speaking, all these guys in your force should come from the same battalion right?

Wrong.

In a typical "platoon" you will have unlimited, "light" infantry, some medium infantry, two or more airborne troops, troops in battlearmour, drones, remotes, special forces types, animal handlers and even ninjas. Yes, the game has bone fida ninja assassins and even proper arabic "Hashasshins", though what the hell assassins are doing prowling around a battlefiedl wasting their time killing grunts is beyond me. On the other hand ninjas are cool so I`ll forgive them this time.

Now, in seven years, I never once saw a platoon sized unit drawn from so many different specialities. Okay, I've seen a composite platoon of SAS,SBS, Para's and Royal Marines (well, heard of one anyway) and I`ve even taken been involved in a few "foreign aid" training teams that drew on as many as a dozen different cap-badges and nationalities. But in a single combat unit? As normal practice?

Hell no. Mixed platoons like that just would not work. Could you imagine organising a days field training?

"Yessir, three of the guys are up in the bird doing their airborne thing, five of them are working through room clearance drills, one is practising his hacking, three are camoflaged around here somewhere (think they might have sneaked off for a beer) and one of them is working on his dsiguise skills by impersonating that major general you were chatting too earlier. How are they doing? Um, how am I supposed to judge? I`m just a basic grunt. Gather the men for lunch? Erm, how? Oh, and the tech guy is pissed cos he's got seventeen different types of armour and weapons to repair and the Company Quartermaster is pissed because he cant keep track of which particular gizmo is for which guy in this F****D up outfit sir!"

Course, that being said, I am willing to patch the breech in my fourth wall by somehow convincing myself that airdropping three guys as reinforcements into a skirmish is both logsitically and tactically viable, for the sole reason that this rules system just looks so DARN good.

Okay, I admit it. I'll willingly try to convince myself that every single platoon we come across works like a German Eastern Front Kampfgruppe where every soldier in sight has been grabbed by some charismatic or forceful individual and grouped into a motley combat unit. Not likely in EVERY engagement of course. The setting does have one world where such units are at least likely albiet not exactly tactically viable: Paradise. Yes, Paradise. Where the various human forces are getting their collective rear-ends kicked by an Alien Collective and where ready-made formations tend to die fairly often. Course, you knew it would be ahellhole soon as you heard the name didn't you?

Besides, its the future. Mixed platoons like this could be how future wars will be fought? No I mean, seriusly they could (nnnnn, stetching credibility....must keep trying). You know, by grabbing a random assortment of guys from various different regiments with radically different training methods, equipment and procudures and lumping together in a small unit where they will have to work like a well oiled professional team to survive, let alone acheive victory?

Lets not look too close at that one. But what the heck. It's just a game after all. I`m not going to miss out on a great new system purely because the Army selection isn't exactly authentic. It#s based on Anime for heavens sake! And even I'm not THAT anal.

Most of the time.

Dungeons and Dragons. Seventies Style Baby!

2007-01-18T19:11:00.000Z

After a several week’s long hiatus, my Wedensday night gaming group got together again to break in a new campaign. Bill had found that as he played through the pre-published Eberron scenario’s the plot holes and logic gaps were becoming too obvious to bear up under the scrutiny of such switched on cookies as ourselves (i.e: the players). On top of that, he was beginning to find them extremely fraustrating himself.

So, seizing the opportunity afforded by a four week gap in gaming, he decided to introduce us to his new game world. The idea grew out of Bill’s desire to see properly “well ‘ard” high level D&D characters in action and generally see what sort of mischief they can get up to. Partly for the sheer hell of it, partly out of 1970’s D&D nostalgia and partly to fuel idea’s for a new book series he’s been planning on (yeah, GW fans, the DM is THAT Bill).

With this in mind, Bill introduced us to his new setting, where: “Monsters are for killing, Dungeon’s are for plundering and every NPC is mean’t to be killed by the players.”

Ah, bliss.

With considerable eagerness we gened up our characters for the future months. Bills plan is to take us all they way from 1st to 20th level and beyond. Of course, he made it abundantly lear that we should not get too attached to our vulnerable little first level darlings. This is 1970’s D&D style after all (Andy and I would like to take this opportunity to point out that we weren’t even BORN the last time Bill took part in a proper D&D game), and a character death every other night or so is only to be expected.

So with this in mind I discarded the idea of a flimsy (yet eventually horribly powerful) wizard character and plumbed for the challenge of playing a Paladin. Partly because I was getting sick of playing “practical” men (i.e thugs) and wanted something a little less “raw” for a change. Also, because John has never played a proper D7D mage before and was practically drooling at the thought of all those high level fireballs and lighting bolts he’d be doling out later on.

It turns out though, that in Bill’s new setting, they Gods do not play as large a role in mortal affairs as they do in other worlds. In other words, Divine magic doesn’t necessarily come from the Gods and Gods do not interefere in mortal affairs. Instead, Divine magic is more of a “life-style” choice than anything else. A form of wizardry that focus’ more on healing and banishments than summoning’s and evocations.

It just also happens to be the form studied by most clerics and magically inclined men-at-arms (such as Paladins and Rangers) as well, as this is a form of sorcery which is relatively easy to wield while wearing armour. As such, it turns out that Paladins and Clerics are not bound by alignment restrictions after all. You can be a complete bastard and still rise far in a good church.

Hmmm, actually, it’s probably something of a requisite.

Divine magic is also culturally associated more with Priests than the arcane form. At least, that’s my understanding of it.

Another note on magic. We’re using the Bills modified D20 rules for combat and magic, meaning no-hit points and spells do not vanish from the mind when cashed (instead, the caster gradually becomes more fatigued). We expected this will mean our wimpy first level characters can stay in the dungeon longer before retreating.

We were wrong.

Without further ado then, I give you: the characters!

Edgar: Human male Paladin lvl 1. Reasonably good looking in a rugged sort of way, cultured, reasonably well mannered (with some rough edges showing his rustic origins), narrow of hip and broad of chest. Unusually for a Paladin, his Charisma is only just above average. Only his Dex is lower. This will change as he becomes more confident and outgoing (i.e gains exp levels). Played by Me.

Sevila: Half-orc female Fighter lvl1: Brighter than most half-orcs, reasonably charismatic and with a more-than-healthy interest in the doings and appearance of other females, if you know what I mean. Played by Tony.

Karl: Human Wizard level 1: Exeptionally intelligent. Even more exceptionally stupid Int 15, Wis 4. Yes, that’s right. 4. We have the sort of wizard who happily casts fireball spells into ten foot square rooms (which the other players are standing in). Think Fizban from Dragonlance, only not so loveable. His curiosity killed the cat, so to speak.

Jaguar Paw: Elf Ranger level 1. Strongly influenced by the character from Apocalyptica. Only no where near as competent in a fight (1st level remember). The parties native guide.

The First Session:

Having decided to leave their village and travel to the New World (the continent of Terra Nova) to seek their fortunes, Karl, Sevila and Edgar disembark at an as yet unspecified port where the hire local elf (think Native American) Jaguar Paw to act as their guide to the frontier.

Along the way to the West, they travel through rugged forest terrain. Think of the Eastern United States as depicted in Last of the Mohicans, but with 14th century settlers who know magic. Spending the night in the town of Silverholm, they hear of raid upon Silver Caravans launched form the old Silver-mine by a small band of goblins. And oh yes, sure enough, the sheriff is offering a reward to anyone who clears out the tunnels (hey, don’t snigger at the plot, this is 1970’s D&D, remember?)

Edgar is not too keen ‘ not much glory to be won killing goblins down a dirty hole,” he observes, rather obviously, but the others soon win him round. Two other adventurers met in the inn are also very interested in this reward. Rather conviently, both evidently come from classes that would otherwise be missing from the party. Funny that (1970’s okay?). Karl immediately demonstrated his low wisdom score by casting “Detect Magic” on Sophia, apparently a cleric, and earning himself a cuff around the ear from a mortified Edgar for his impertinence. Matters are not helped much by Edgars bumbling but good-natured attempts to apologise on his friends behalf. The final straw comes when Severa (dammit, how do you spell that half-orcs name?) makes a comment of the solicitous variety.

When morning comes, Sophia is naturally not present. Only her scruffy companion, an “ahem” locksmith named Woreck, turns up to the rendevous.

The attack on the mine begins well, with Jaguar Paw locating a secret door into a subterranean complex taken over by the goblins just of the mines main tunnel. The four guards in the guard-room are quickly dispatched, thanks to Severa’s cleave feat and some judicious application of a great axe. One goblin who tries to sound the alarm is “sleep-ed” by Karl’s magic and murdered by Jaguar Paw (Edgar does not entirely approve, but because Lawful Good does not means Lawful Stupid, he realises it's better than having to fight the thing while its awake).

The party continues through one door, leaving another pinned shut with a goblin axe wedged benath the rim and another through the door and into the door post. In the next room, Karls magic is even more effective. All four goblins succumb to the sleep spell and Jaguar Paw is happy as a pig in manure as he goes round gleefully cutting smelly little green throats.

At this point the party tries to navigate a labyrinth of corridors and promptly becomes lost. “Should be mapping” Bill observes (1970’s gaming! We slap our heds and reach for the graph paper) but gradually manage to piece together something approximating a rough map of our travels.

Then we find: The Room.

Edgar opens a door to find in swathed in impenetrable, obviously magical darkness. Just as he’s about to shrug and leave, something leaps out of the darkness at him and, clanging off his shield, falls backwards into the mirk.

“Lets leave it! says Jaguar Paw.

“No way!” says Edgar, his pride offended at the thought of some dirty little something mucking up the shine on his shield. “I want that little wretch”.

Edgar stands defending the door way at the ready, while Karl casts a light spell on a crossbow bolt. And waits… and waits. Finally, upon hearing the noise of a crossbow being ratcheted into firing position he shouts “For heavens sake, stop wasting time and just throw the bloody thing (Wisdom 4 for the wizard remember). Grumbling, Karl then takes his loaded bolt OUT of the crossbow and throws it in. (Wisdom 4).

This illuminates a small patch in the magical darkness which Sevela, Jaguar Paw (hereafter known as JP. Especially in the herafter, snigger, snigger) and Edgar swiftly enter. Edgar picks up the glowing bolt and proceeds to explore the room while Karl tries to cast a second light spell on his staff.

Seven dire rats choose this moment to attack. All at once things become farcical. Sevilla is forced to burn up all three conviction points in a single round while making a series of toughness saves (to avoid damage) and fortitude saves (to avoid being poisoned) and for about three straight combat rounds not one of the heroes manages to so much as ruffle the fur on a dire rat!

Then, to the amazement of all, Karl the amazing Wisdom 4 wizard, casts a Sleep spell on Jaguar Paw. Admittedly, JP is immune to the thing and stays awake. Also admittedly, one of the rats does fall asleep. But EDGAR is also affected by the spell, and takes a nasty bite to the unmentionables as he desperately blinks himself back awake.

Then, the other PCs are even more amazed when the darn wizard charges into hand to hand combat! A wizard! In hand-t-hand combat! Against foes even a Str 17 half orc fighter and a Str 15 human paladin are having trouble hitting!!!!.

Edgar and JP are so amazed by this calamity that Edgar once again gets bitten through his scale mail. Poor JP is not so lucky. He is borne to the ground and rendered unconscious by a leap from one of the Doberman-sized beasties. Moments later, his throat is torn out by a second rat. HIs death screams sounds supiciopusly like someone screaming "Stupid Wizard!" in Tribal Elven.

Clealy choosing this moment to decide that his pride could better survive fleeing a pack of rats than being eaten by them, Edgar finally yells “Fall Back!”.

Karl, the wizard, taking this to mean “Run Away and abandon your friends to a horrible grizzly death!", promptly bolts 120 feet back the way he came, leaving an even more stupefied Edgar wondering how the hell Karl was going to sleep the rats from 120 feet and three corners away so that he and Servila could bolt the door behind them.

Instead, Karl waits around a bit wondering where his friends are while Worlick, Servila and Edgar desperately struggle to murder the rats who followed them into the corridor and shut the door before the others can clambor out.

They eventually catch up with a bewildered looking Karl (where were you lot?) and make their way hastily back to the exit only to be confronted by four zombies blocking their path.

“We dead!” says Sevila. “Lets charge!” says Karl. “Lets just let them come closer so we can run round them and reach the exit!” suggests an exasperated Edgar. Even Karl realises this is a good idea, and so the heroes bolt past their enemies and into the light.

So ends the first not-so-glorious mission of the party. Andy, in true 1970’s D&D fashion announces he can’t be bothered creating a new character and will simply use the same stats to portray Jaguar Paws brother.

He is not amused, however, when I gleefully suggest he call his new character “Rat Food!”.

I’m so going to pay for that one someday.
More hapless adventures last week.

Still Plodding on

2007-01-16T18:20:00.000Z

Well, we're still trying to get things sorted out with broadband and still having almost no luck. Which is a pity, because I've written a battle report featuring my now fairly regular opponent Julian and his Almarovid/Almohad. We've played three games now (and we would be playing a forth tonight had he not fallen in will the man flu). Alas, we've no disk or disc drives in opur PC's at work, so I cant just take it in and post it! I'll figure out a way soon, I promise.

Its unfortunate that Ive not been able to keep this bog up better as a lots been happening in the last few weeks which Ive been wanting to tell you about. My Army has evolved quite considerably in recent weeks following table top experiences. For example, I'm now up to 40 cavalry miniatures. 10 of these are standard unarmoured lance-armed mounted serjents (usable either as mounted serjent with shieldwall normans and crusader or as Cabelleros Villainos with the Christian list from El Cid). The others are 7 armoured knights with spears carried overarm (Briton's for Normans, Cabelleros for El Cid) and 7 unarmoured peasant types on horseback usable as Jeneites for El Cid and Sejents with throwing spears for the Normans.

Anyway, the Villanos are 6 Perry unarmoured crusader knights with three Artisan Almohad lancers (including a converted drummer) to add some flavour to the army. The Cabelleros were Perry mounted knights with spear over-arm (which curiously came with lances rather than spears - just as well I had a few spares) and the Jenites were Artizan Carovingian french ligth cavalry with spears held overarm. Oh yes, I also purchased an additional pack of 3 Perry knights charging with lances. Two of these will be swapped out for sword armed knights in the main cavalry unit (the one led by the general) and one will become the Army Standard Bearer. The two sword armed knights will command two of my new cavalry units and a miniature from the Perry Crusader Character pack will act as leader for a third (he'll be a character such as a Prince or Bishop). The final character from the pack is going to be converted into a Cantador (knightly Bard) for the Spanish list, just as soon as I can find a suitable lute (Reaper catalogue here we come).

I also bought myself eight Artisan Carovingian archers. Also very nice, but not very Norman looking. The Norman archers I've bought from Crusader, on the other hand, are very Norman in appearance, complete with trademark haircuts and baggy shorts. They should balance out the obviously not-Norman Carovingians when Im using the Norman list from Shieldwall. Likewise, the Norman archers from Crusdaer Miniatures will do as mercenrary archers for the El Cid lists. I`m already contemplating making them a permanent addition to my Crusader miniatures Spearman unit (the El Cid lists allows mixed units) for El Cid games. Wel, at least on those occasions where I need some vital ground to be held anyway.

This proponderance of cavalry might seem a curious evolution given that it has come about as a result of facing armies of spearmen, but I like the idea of using my mounted troops to draw the spearmen out of position. Alas, I just have figured out how best to do it yet.

I hate African Drums. Random? Yes. Unfair? No. They do deserve to be hated. Read the El Cid list if you don't belive me.

I've also procured my final bunch of archers (the aforementioend Crusader Minatures figs- I now have 29 archers in total) and that second unit of spearmen courtesy of Crusader miniatures. I ordered them before New Year, but just got them yesterday. There's a damn good reason for that. Hope you get a kick out of this email I sent -and the very nice reply from the boys at Crusader. *sigh* Even when I complaining about something I can still have a laugh. Especially when its at my own expense.

The LETTER.

"Hello guys and Happy New year.

Get yourselves a cup of tea and a nice comfy chair. This is going to be a long one :).

I placed an order on the Friday before New Year for some of your Norman Miniatures (1 pack each of the spearmen in the padded doublet, attacking spearmen and dismounted knights attacking with axes) but it hasn't arrived yet.

At least, I dont think it has. You see, the problem is that I placed the order using my hotmail account rather than the work account ( edited) .I can't actually access this account to see if you've sent me any messages at the moment. I haven't had access to the account since moving from my previous address (the billing address on the order) to my new one (the delivery address) because my old service provider told me a week AFTER they were supposed finsih transfering my account that they didn't operate in my area.

Muppets.

The new property also has pretty substantial storm doors and a dodgy door bell, so it's possible I just didn't hear the postman. I was at home on holiday all last week though. I made sure the storm doors were open while I was awake and in the house. Course, I could have been knocking the house down with my snoring when he came by with my order, but hey, thats life).

That being said , I haven't had one of those cards from the postman telling me to collect the package from a depot. My local office dont seem to have had any parcels addressed to me handed in by the postman either (its just thirty or forty metres from my house and is the local depot for undelivered mail). Can you please let me know if there has been a problem with my order? You can email me using my work address (thats this one by the way, not that you neededme to tell you that).

(In case your wondering, the IT section has blocked our access to hotmail and google accounts. The wretches! have they no shame?)

Anyway guys, I`m sorry to be such a pain in the backside, especially since I`m the idiot who asked you to deliver to a house with storm doors and a dodgy door bell in the first place.
I`d really appreciate any info you can pass on to me. I had thought it was just the Xmas backlog, but then one of the guys from the local gaming group told me his stuff arrived a few days after new year - and he'd ordered on the Saturday

Hope you've had a good laugh at my expense (everybody else has) and enjoy the new year.

Many thanks,
Brian Rae
Dedicated gamer and semi-official office idiot.

END OF LETTER

In response, I got a very nice email from a guy called Mark, Mark was very glad that I'd written in on account of the fact I`d very geneously given them the flat number, but forgot to give them the house number lol. Cheers for replying in a way that didn't make me seem like a fool Mark, but I am one anyway :D

Thanks to the lads over at Crusader for keeping hold of my order for me despite my seeming silence. I got their reply on the Friday and the figs came in the post on Monday (yesterday) - giving me plenty of time to base and prep the figs for my next game against Julian. Oh...... um. Yeah. Thanks again anyway guys :D

Bloody nice miniatures too, I have to add. Hardly a mould line or a hint of flash on them. And they match up nicely with my Perry figures too. So, all in all, a good week or two for me as far as gaming is concerned.

More tomorrow.

NOT the Last Post

2006-12-27T14:10:00.000Z

Well, given that I finally moved into the new place nearly two weeks ago you would no doubt be expecting a post from me by now. No, alas, thanks to my wonderful service provider NTL, who let me know the last day before the Xmas weekened that they don't operate in my new postcode area. Well thanks boys. Great customer service. Regular posting will resume the minute BT Home Hub is installed. In the meantime, here's a breif rundown of what you can expect to hear about when I finally have regular internet access again:

Two battle reports involving the Normans.
Miniature Painting and Purchasing Updates.
Eberron Update (or should that be "Proper Introduction"
and some other random gaming thoughts.

Anyway, lunchbreaks nearly over and I need to get back to work.

Speak to you then.

Moor's the Pity

2006-12-13T00:17:00.000Z

Well, I've gone and done it. I've managed to arrange my second game with the Norman's for next week. I challenged Julian's Celts to a game just as Sam was about to invite me to his Iron Kingdoms one off game next week. Having heard what he had planned makes me want to split myself in two to play both, but I really need a second outing with my army and I couldn't possibly break off one engagement to accept another - despite Julian's generous offer to allow me to do so. Cheers Julian, but an agreement is an agreement. I've been meaning to get in a game with you for weeks and I`m looking forward to our game every bit as much as I`m looking forward to hearing the screams of dismay coming from the players around Sam's table. Bwahahahahahahahah!

I actually challanged Julian to a game against his massive array of British Celts (over 7000 points worth!!) but happily Julian has a more appropriate army sitting in his shelf and as yet unused: Moors!!!! Hurray! Another historically appropriate enemy I didn't know a thing about. Thing is now, when he says Moors what does he mean? There were so many Arab and Muslim armies that the west labelled "Moorish" (much in the same way that to a Arab or Turk of the time, Europeans were all "Franks") that the army could be based around any one of half-a-dozen lists that I can think of. Is the army chosen from the list in Armies of Antiquity, or one of the lists in El Cid? Who can tell?

Not me anyway. So thats why I'll have to ask Julian. Or maybe the all-seeing all knowing Spence. More pics of my painted milites coming up shortly by the way, honest. Just as soon as I can manage a decent lighting rig for a change.

P.S Still no sign of a blog entry r/e our Battlelines game appearing on Johns Blog. Ah well. I suppose he'll get around to publically admitting his humiliating def....er, I mean, honourable overall draw, one day :D

Army General (Plus Free Bonus Rant you should certainly feel free to ignore)

2006-12-09T01:49:00.000Z

Well, between baby-sitting and getting semi-ready for tomorrows move Ive have done exactly nothing. Again. Except work... and even then I didnt do much as I managed to skive off to pick up some Xmas decorations for the office and then spent the next three hours decorating the damn place. It did mean I had to stay back for an extra hour though, as I couldn't just leave the job half-finished. My, isn't celotaping tinsel to the ceiling a great way to make a living?

Yeah, more sarcasm. Still, beats having people moan at you all day about how inefficient the government is. Believe me, I already know. We tell our senior management how utterly useless they all are often enough that they no longer even bother consulting us before introducing the latest inefficiency anymore.

Gah! I miss the army. Sure, the MOD was every bit as blithely incompetant as the Department of Work and Pensions but at least we could ignore their stupid directives until they took the hint and tried something else. They once asked us to count every individual 5.56mm rifle round held by the entire regiment (as opposed to counting and weighing the twenty round boxes in open ammo crates and examining the seals on the unopened one's). Yeah, seriously, only about half-a-million rounds or so! Needless to say they were told in no uncertain terms where they could shove their ammunition audit.

But now I`m just a lowly civil servant who cares more about getting vulnerable people they're money that he does about the governments bloody unemployment figures. I cant really get away with that sort of thing anymore. Honestly, I`m not sure how much more rule bending they'll let me get away with. But frankly, I dont see why a customer should have to wait five days to be paid just because their GP can't fill out a medical certificate properly. Especially not when we can use Internet Banking to pay the customer on the same day the doctor re-issues the cert! Sure it takes a half-an-hour each time. But it's not the customers fault the government sacked nearly a third of our processing staff is it? Or that the "time saving measures" brought in the goverment actually increased the time it takes to issued emergency payments. Yeah, we told them that would happen, but now that they've spent 13 million on a payment system that forces us to start from scratch if we make a spelling mistake (or, heaven forbid, try to go back ato the previous screen!) they're determined to make us use it rather than admit to the mistake.

Frankly, if the senior bods were really even remotely adequate for the job, they wouldn't be civil servants. They'd have been head-hunted long ago and off to the happy, delerium -inducingly high-wages of private bussiness. Instead, they're still here. Basically because no other bugger would be stupid enough to employ them.

Don't get me wrong, there are a few senior bods whom I truly believe have stayed on in the civil service because they are genuinely trying to make things work. Alas, they're just banging their heads against brick walls every bit as much as we are. At the end of the day, it's the civil service culture that's at fault for allowing second-rate individuals to rise to the top of the chain. But how do you change a culture thats become ingrained after several hundred years of development?

Truly, I just dont think you can. And that, to me, is a real shame. When civil servants (we're SERVANTS remember?) care more about their statistics and the next performance review than they do about the people they are supposed to helping you can't help but be inundated at our level with a thousand little tradgedies a day. Like a primary school teacher who has worked for thirty years being told that although she has developed bowel cancers and now has toilet issues, the fact that she has survived breast cancer for six years now makes her fit for work! Now it will take an Appeal and as long as six months to get her Incapacity Benefit claim up and running again. And all because the certificate informing us that the cancer had spread was lost in the interal civil-service mail. What kind of social "security" system is that? It disgusts me!

It also makes me very sad.

Right, enough. This is supposed to be a wargaming blog after all. So, included for your delectation (I love that word) are some pics of my recently touched up Army General. Again, apologies for the picture quality. I have had some great advice from some good people, but these pics were taken off the cuff about fifteen minutes ago and it's far too late to be messing around with lighting and such. Anyway, I've off to bed now. G'night.

Horsing Around the Battlelines

2006-12-08T01:03:00.000Z

Well, I was going to post up pictures of my mounted milites tonight, but on relfection Ive decided not to. As they were a little rushed I didnt put as much detailing on them as I would have liked, so the shields are off and a little updating is in progress. I know, I know, I`ve broken the cardinal rule of army painting: never go back till the whole army's done. But in this case I felt it was justified. Ive gone back and added a few more blazes, highlighted a few manes and tails I didnt have time to finish, and now I need to mount the shields again (heh, heh, I said "mount", get it? a double entandre and a pun all in one word. Damn I'm plleased with myself).

Anway...

In the meantime Ive being playing a few games of Battlelines with John. See his blog, here: Got game! for more details. Our game isnt up yet but I`m sure it will be eventually. That was sarcasm by the way. John has yet to write up a single game in which I've beaten him, though he's quite happily to admit to a few loses from badger? I wonder why?

Nah, I`m just ribbing you! Actually John and I rarely play boardgames, mostly because Im not a big fan and they quickly bore me. I've only played boardgames with him on three occasions: one in which I was soudnly beaten (Settlers), one on which I was victorious during my first ever game of Up Front (Well, I have commanded real infantry platoons a time or two, even if I was a tankie!) and on this last occasion an overall draw. He trounced me in the first game and I won the second, far closer game, after getting a grip on the game mechanics.

All in all, it's an enjoyable little game, but I cant bring myself to think of it as a wargame or a simulation, only as a very pretty dice game. A peasant with a shortsword and a bow is just as likely to kill a fully armoured mounted knight in close combat as he is to kill a fellow peasant ( a one in six chance either way). And if you ask me, that just isn't right. Plus the support rule encourages generals to form their units into "wedge" formation. The successful player is the one who exploits the rules mechanics to his best advantage rather than the one with the best tactical knowledge. In fact, someone with a decent understanding of historical combat is likely to be at a severe disadvantage in their first game (like I was). Just because a unit of knights would be near invulnerable to a peasant with a sword sword in open field doesnt mean they are are going to ride over them in this system. Admitedly,I did charge my knights unsupported across the field (well, I WAS playing the French at Agincourt :D) but even so it should not be possible for four stands of peasants with shortswords to withstand a charge by three stands of heavy cavalry and then wipe them out a turn later!

So, on the whole an enjoyable evening, especially when I came back from defeat and (again using the Fench) defeated John in a straight on infantry fight, using my knights as bait for his archers and swarming his men-at-arms (medium infantry) and dismounted knights (heavy infantry)with own medium infantry suported and one unit of medium cavalry. I didnt bother trying to take down his archers: they were faster than my men at arms and would simply flee "in good order" after a round of combat with an equally sized unit of my medium infantry. Also, my unit of medium cavalry was put to better use attacking already weakened infantry units to capture their banners. As the game is won by the player who captures a cerain numbers of banners first (in this case four) this was a far more useful role for them than chasing hordes of archers back and forth. Heck, theirs no guarantee the archers wouldn't have mown them down with their shortswords anyway, not in this game at least.

If it sounds as though I hated this game, please, don't get me wrong. I truly enjoyed it and would gladly play it again a time or two -this time including the "Lore" rules. See Johns blog if you want to know what I mean by that, as I wont explain it here. It's a fantasy game after all, but I would expect a fantasy game that perports to be set in an "alternate medieval europe" to at least reflect the realities of medieval combat a little better.

Two units of knights wiped out by two units of peasants archers with sword swords indeed!!!!

Haven't forgotten

2006-12-04T02:09:00.000Z

No, I havent forgotten to update and no little green men havent come down from mars to upduct me...

They were blue.

The truth is that a lot has been happening lately, the new house is sorted and the organising of furniture is about to begin. Throughout all this I havent had much (read "any") time for painting, but somehow Ive managed to out the finishing touches on all the mounted milites and the general EXCEPT for the shields. Which should take no time at all. After that, I have to consider whether I`m going to paint the libres next, or the axemen. And also consider what miniatures to buy. Colin's VIkings have a bunch of Foundry, Crusader and Gripping Beast mixed in together and they look fine. Just a normal distribution of build amoungst a standard group of guys. Oh yeah, and I have to figure out my new minaiture buying budget. Darn lucky I dont drink, thats all I'll say.

Pictures of mounted milite unit to follow when all the shields are done.

First Engagement.

2006-11-28T22:49:00.000Z

No, I`m not getting married. As promised, here is the Battle Report for my first ever game of WAB, 1300pts of disciplined Norman ranks against 1300 pt of Viking Horde. Vikings played by Colin. Norman's run by me. The result, you'll find, was quite satisfactory for us both. Cos we both had fun.

The Tabletop: The table top was mostly flat level ground. I arrived last so Colin had already set up the boar with "symmetrical" terrain to ensure the ground did not provide an advantage to either side. In my left quarter there was a hill, level ground in the centre and woods on my right. In the centre of the table was a field of crops which allowed half movement and did not block line of sight (No, 15 feet of corn will not stop an arrow!). On my left Colin had a wood on his side of the table and a hill on my right.

A Brief Word ABout Photo's:

There are a lot of very bad, poor quality photo's scattered around this battle report. Believe it or not, these are the ones that turned out best. For some reason the flash on my digital camera had packed in and as we've already seen my cameras autofocus isnt exactly top class. So I can only apologise for the very poor quality of these pictures. Colin had a very well painted army, but it doesn't show through well in these pics. Any naked figures you see are my own: I`m ashamed to admit it, as I HATE playing with naked miniatures (I`m a bit of a paint Nazi, it's true).

Oh yeah, about the "naked"balsa wood movement trays. Yes, I know, they are very garish. But I only finished painting and flocking the movement trays last night. As I had to blue tack the figs to the base for transport I fixed them to the underside of the base. I didnt want the flock coming off before I'd had time to give it a PVA wash over the top. The idea was to arrive early and then place the minaitures on the trays the "right" way up. But due to running late at work (fixing other peoples mistakes, as usual) there wasn't time to sort things out before the beginning of play.

The Armies:

Vikings

I didn't think to ask Colin for a copy of his list, so this is not an exact breakdown. But from my left to his right:

1 unit of 13 skirmishing Hirdmen (Hirdmen) with Double Handed Axes and Throwing Spears (began in the woods on Colin's side of the table.

A fairly large unit of Bondir (Bondir 1) with throwing spears and handweapons. Maybe twenty-four strong.
This unit deployed directly opposite the hill on my left. 4 ranks.

A second, larger unit of Bondir (Bondir 2) with throwing spears and two-handed axes, accompanied by a Godir. Directly opposite the crop field. 4 ranks

A unit of around 24 Hirdmen (Bodyguard) led by the Army General. Double handed axes and throwing spears. Includes 3 Berserkers. Facing crop field. 4 ranks

A unit of about ten skirmishing archers (Archer 1) deployed in front of Bondir 1 and the Hirdsmen, screening them both.

A final unit of ten skirmishing archers (Archer 2)deployed on the hill to my fight.

Normans:

Again from my left to my right.

21 Dismounted Milites, (Milite Foot) thrusting spears, heavy armour, shield.
Deployed on the rear slope of the hill on my left. 3 ranks.

12 Coloni Skirmishers (Coloni) with bow. Skirmishers. Deployed on the hill crest.

16 Serjents (Serjents) with lightarmour, shield and double handed weapons. Deployed opposite Bondir 2 and facing the crops. Light Infantry. 3 ranks.

21 Liberi (Liberi) with shield and spear. Deployed to the right of the Serjents. Facing Crop Field. 3 ranks.

11 Mounted Milites plus Dux (Knights) deployed slightly behind and between the Serjents and the Liberi. 2 ranks.

The forest on my right remained empty (apart from dice and "dead" miniatures) for the duration of the game.

I set up second and finished first. Colin won the first round (which suited me fine).

THE BATTLE

Turns 1 and 2:

On turns 1 and 2, the Viking Line advanced along its length, with the Hirdmen on my left moving forward to flank my forces on the hilltop. My Serjents, Liberi and Knights marched to meet the Vikings while the Milite Foot on the hill stood their ground. My shooting was largely ineffective, but it did suffice to reduce the numbers of Bondi unit 1. The Viking shooting was far more formidable. The Liberi were quickly reduced to a single rank and some change by the end of turn 2. However, they were know firmly in place and ready to charge the Viking Archer unit screening his battle line (Archer 1). I knew that once they drove off these pesky skirmishers, the Berserks would unleash their fury against these sacrificial lambs. Whether it was the bravery of their hearts or the thought of being run down by their own Knights should they turn and run, they passed every panic test (one per turn) and advanced steadily into position. The Godir chose this moment to leave Bondir unit 2 and join the Bodyguard in anticipation of a charge by the oncoming cavalry.

By this point, the First unit of Bondir were also at the base of the hill on my left.

Norman Turn 3.

The Viking Bondir at the foot of the hill chanted and jeered as they tried to entice the Milite Foot down from the hill, the crest of which they had advanced to at the beginning of the battle. However, the poor-sighted Bondir leader (no doubt squinting as the sun reflected off the shiny helmets of his foes) was unable to discern that the Milite Foot were in heavy armour, and could not have charged them even had they been foolish enough to give up the hill.

Meanwhile, on the right the Liberi let out a mighty yell and charged the Viking Archer unit screening the Bodyguard. Though a few more of these brave and doughty warrior (with the encouragement of their Duke and their own unit leader) fell as the cowardly Bondir fired and ran, their failed charge did bring them close enough to the Bodyguard that they could see the rolling eyes and frothing mouths of the three berserks struggling to break free from their comrades and wreck bloody havoc upon the field.

Meanwhile, the Knights cheered the brave sacrifice of their peasant levy, advancing behind them in anticipation of the gap they would open in the line. This would be a path leading straight to the Viking General, his bodyguard and a moment of Norman glory.

To the Liberi's left, the Serjents advanced into the cornfield. Their shouted challanges and crude gestures made clear their intentions to engage the second and largest unit of Bondir at the earliest opportunity. This was a clash the fierce vikings seemed to anticipate with relish. Meanwhile, the Coloni screening the Milites atop the hill moved round to screen the left flank of theMilite Foot from the encroaching Hirdmen skirmishers.

Viking Turn 4

The Viking General and his Hirdmen could restrain their frothing maniacs no longer. Two of the three berserkers burst from the unit, storming into the sorrowful remnents of the Liberi and ripping them to pieces, accompanied by gales of laughter from the Bodyguard. A third berserker, seeing an whole regiment of Norman Serjents before him, could not resist the thought of attacking so large a unit single-handedly and was quickly cut down for his trouble, having claimed only a single mercenary to wait upon his table in Valhalla.

The small unit of Bondir on the Norman left maintained their position beneath the hill, waiting for their Hirdmen skirmishers to move into position and steeling themselves for a bloody slaughter. The Hirdmen themselves moved to engage the Coloni at a run but could not reach them this turn, eager to avenge the single shield-brother who had so far fallen to Norman archery.

Above: " I taunt you a second time!".

Meanwhile, the Viking Bodyguard inched backwards in horror of the coming charge, but despite their best efforts at "finding surer ground" they knew they could not hope to put sufficient distance between themselves and the Norman horseflesh bearing down upon them

The viking archers upon the hill and those who had fled from the Liberi assault now turned their bows upon the now screenless Norman Knights. Three knights and their mounts died screaming under Viking Arrows, and the brave knights gritted their teeth and the loss of so much noble blood in so unseemly a fashion. Yet their Dux's strong will and calls for order kept the maddened knights from wasting their charge upon such unmanly foes. The knights, couching their lances, grinned evilly as they summoned up thoughts of revenge, anticipating the slaughter their powerful lances would wreck amongst the Viking Hirdmen of the Bodyguard.

Norman Turn 4.

The proud company of Norman knights let fly their brave battle-cry and charged across the hoof churned, blood-soaked earth. They barely paused to swat the now exhausted and near dead bersekers out of their path. With a great and mighty crash, the Norman Knights wreaked a mighty havoc in the Viking ranks, three hirdmen of the Bodyguard fell beneath the lances of Milites and Dux and another two fell beneath the mighty blows of iron-shod hooves. Yet the Danish axes, swung with all the desperate might of hardened men, took blood of their own, the Viking General himself claiming three more brave knights. For a moment it seemed the Viking line would break, but then, just as the Norman musicians throat was dried from fear and dust, the Viking hornblower let air a mighty note. With fresh vigour, the Danish forces pushed into the Shieldwall. Hacking left and right, Dux Baldwin looked first to the screaming horses and dying men around him, then to the Vikings with their deadly axes before him, and he knew their line would not break. Deciding that to stay and fight against such numbers with the momentum of the charge all but lost was far less attractive than the thought of Viking arrows he led his brave retinue out of the fight in good order. There, sufficiently distant that no Viking charge could reach them, he set about re-organising his much reduced line and made ready for another charge.
Above: The surviving knights as they begin to fall back in good order.

The brave and doughty Serjents, seeing that their general was leading the flower of their army away from the melee, recognised that their intent was to reform and charge again. They did not panic, but steeled themselves for the coming onslaught. A few moments later they had advanced to the edge of the wheatfield.

Viking Turn 5/Norman turn 5

All across the battlefield the two armies jockeyed for position. On the left, the Hirdsmen finally manouvred themselves into a favourable position where they could charge next turn. The Bondir at the foot of the hill finally seemed to notice how heavily armoured the Milite Foot were when the Normans began to advance down the forward slopes. They continued taunting the Vikings trying to entice a reckless charge. Thus allowing the Norman Coloni better shots at the Hirdmen. Even so, the feudal serfs were so terrified by the sights and sounds around them that they only felled a single Hirdmen between them.

On the Norman centre: disaster. The retreat of the Knights became a rout. Though the Dux struggled mightily to reassemble his line in some sort of order, the hail of viking arrows and the death of two more knights started a panic he was powerless to prevent. Cursing his men for women and worse, he was left to ride after them waving his sword in the air, shouting "Rally, Rally!" to no avail.

Viking Turn 6

All across the battlefield, the Viking horde gave voice to a mighty cheer. The Hirdsmen on the Norman left charged the Coloni, who paused to fire a single arrow each before fleeing. However, so shaken were they by Viking might that not a single arrow struck home with sufficient force to piece mail. The brave Hirdsmen, thwarted by this cowardly retreat, instead charged home into the flanks of the Milite Foot on the hill ( I forgot about the redirecting charges rule). Seeing this, the more timid Bondir at the foot of the hill also finally charged forward to join the fight. Two brave Norman spearmen were quickly cut down from behind and a third from the fore, but the doughty spearmen, knowing that though their flanks were threatened, the high ground was theirs, stubbornly refused to flee. They fought on, slaying two of the Hirdsmen and two Bondir. Even without their rank bonus, this made the combat a draw. Though once again Viking Horns sounded louder than Norman trumpets, the Dismounted milites stood firm and unshaken. They fought on.

Meanwhile, across the cornfield the situation seemed just as bleak. The charge of the second Bondir unit was preceded by a veritable shower of throwing spears. Yet the doughty Serjents, seasoned by generations of similar campaigns, simply cowered behind their great kite shields and took the weapons of their enemies upon them without complaint or the loss of a single man. Only when the vikings closed with axes did the first Serjent fall. But then, the Normans struck back with powerful Danish axes of their own, and while only a single Bondir fell, the brave song of the Norman trumpet and the sheer nonchalance with which the Serjents accepted the Viking charge took the fight out of their enemy. Suddenly remembering urgent business elsewhere, the largest Viking unit on the field took to their heels and fled. However, not one would live to attend to that business. As they fled, the Norman mercenaries pursued pitilessly, so that in a few sheer, brutal moments, theViking line was penetrated. Their largest "warband" had been massacred in flight. The Viking line was split and the Norman axemen were behind their Lines.

Above: The crucial moment before...... and (below) after the Viking Line Breaks. The batle on the hill (the miniatures have been moved slightly forward off the hill to stop them falling over) can be seen in the background. Well, sort of "seen" anyway. The unit in the foreground below is the Viking Bodyguard.

Where once, just a moment ago, it had seemed that all was lost for the brave defenders of Caen, now victory seemed once again within their grasp.

Norman Turn 6:

Above: The Battle on the Hill Top.

"Look you fools. Stop! They flee! They flee!"The Norman Dux was finally able to raise the spirits of his few surviving knights and squires. They once again turned their faces towards the battle. Seeing that their dismounted brothers and kin were near-surrounded atop the hill, the Knights spurred their horses to their relief them. But night was falling and the Dux already knew the battle would be over before he could reach his men. He cursed the wasted opportunity to acheive victory. With just another hour of daylight he could crush the Viking Bodyguard between proud horseflesh and Norman Serjents. Instead all he could do was spur his horse towards his embattled spearmen. Preying without much hope that the sight of his rapidly approaching horsemen would steal their hearts and convince them to fight on until full dark enveloped the battlefield, he urged his horse ever onward with lash and spur.

Atop the hill two more brave milites fell to Viking axes, by now the Norman line was breaking as men and burly Hirdsmen pushed their way into the gaps. For a long, dreadful moment the standard wavered, it feel to the ground from the hands of the brave Milite who carried it only to be taken up in the hands of another. As the line began to break, this brave young squire, Baldwin II, nephew od the Dux, peered to the left over the heads of his defeated countrymen and cried out:

"The Dux, the DUX! The DUX has come!"

With that, the brave warriors put their backs into the fray, not wanting to be shamed before their lord. On till darkness they fought, and when the surviving warriors of both sides left the field, none could say for sooth whether their battle had been one or lost. It seemed then, that the only reward for their valour would be another battle on the morrow....

Summary:

This was a very tight, close game, which could have gone either way. At one point, when 600pts worth of my army were riding away into the sunset, Colin suggested that now would be a good time to concede. But like a true tenacious Scot, I said "nah!" and fought on. And just as well. For in the very next turn, when all seemed lost and Colin was rolling a terrifingly large number of dice, his Bondi broke and ran. After taking just one casualty and then failing the roll off (Although my banks ranks were still in difficult ground, their light infantry status meant that I kept the +2 rank bonus)! Just like that, Colin had lost his largest unit and a strong infantry unit was behind his lines with only skirmishing archers and a much reduced Bodyguard to face them. It wasn't until after the game that Colin realised he should have moved his Godi back into the Bondi unit after my knights were chased off.

As it was, I hadn't even realised that he'd moved the Godi into the Bodyguard in the first place If I had, I wouldn't have been so eager to charge them with my knights. Not without inflicting a few missile casualties first! Ferocious charge would have done nothing to break them and with no rank bonus left and only str3 vs toughness 5 after the first round of combat, there was no way they would win a protracted fight. But such is life. Its a shame though, when those dice came up six and five for the break test, even the presence of the general nearby couldn't stop those Bondi fleeing. And THEN the Serjents pursued 11" into Colins side of the board to contest an otherwise secure table quarter. Its funny how one roll of the dice can change everything.

Speaking of which (and jumping around a bit here) I would say it's probably best not to go charging formed units of troops, even with my powerful cavalry, without softening them up first or going for the flanks. But Colin just had far too may skirmishers for me to be able to do that. At least not without clearing them out first.

One of the many things I did learn from this inconclusive battle (the points total to each side was damn near even, with one quarter and one banner each and nearly the same points value removed from the table) is that skirmishers really ARE far more useful in WAB than in WFB. I already knew this from conversations with other players (as well as games of Rome: Total War) but seeing is believing. I knew I was going into this battle short of skirmishers and it hurt me when I couldn't counter Colins very good quality skirmish line with my own( I was outnumbered 3 to one in skirmishers). In fact, those skirmishing archers of his very nearly cost me the game. First by taking away the knights Charge Bonus (they would have won the first round of combat otherwise) and then routing them a turn later.

In retrospect, perhaps I should have chased them off with my cavalry. However, using the knights in this way would have taken my generals high leadership away from the main battle line for at least a turn. All for the sake of a few hundred points of archers. If I'd done that they might never have gotten into the main battle at all, and that would be a considerable waste of nearly half my armies total points value.

I also learned a big Viking weakness: throwing spears are great in that first round of combat, (witness the effect on my Knights) but in a long drawn out fight, the guy with the thrusting spears will proabably win. Especially when you factor in that most Norsemen fight as Light Infantry. If it hadn't been for the Hirdsmen charging their flank and some bad dice rolling on my part, the Foot Milites would have wiped the floor with those Bondir in turn 6 and possibly even in turn 5.

Colin was also kind enough to break his usual habit and take some berserkers to show me how they work. He was right of course, they were too easy to counteract by sacrificing a few, cheap troops, even with Colins clear superiority in skirmishers. That's another one of my bugbears laid to rest.

Colin was a great sportsman throughout and really let down by his dice. He completely outmanouvred me, despite having an entirely infantry based forced. Turn 5 should really have been the nail in the coffin for me. It was Colins bad luck that kept me in the game, although I call it revenge for the poor marksmanship of my Coloni, who killed just three miniatures in six turns of shooting!!!. I also had my own share of bad luck, especially with saving throws. And in rolling a ten for my generals break test. Luckily though, the Knights were by this point too far away to risk breaking my Serjents as well.

He was very patient with my mistakes and even let me move my Serjents back a few inches when he explained that the distance a berserker charges is not affected by terrain penalties as I had assumed. Most significantly though, he pointed out the presence of my general within 12" of the Milites and happily admitted that I had passed my break test as a result. Thus, in speaking up he ensured he had held me to an honorable draw at the price of a less honorable victory. In the end, another turn would probably have won the Colin the battle. My Serjents were not in a position to charge the bodyguard, the Knights would have needed to spend a turn manouveing before they could charge into the fray and the stand on the hill could have collapsed at any moment. Colin might not agree, but if we played another turn he'd have won.

Thanks Colin, for a great game, full of excitement till the end. I hope to play you again soon: but this time you'll be facing his holiness Baldwin II, (the Dux's nephew) and the holy armies of the diocese of Caen!

Above: Colin ponders his next move as the Liberi move into charge range.

First Knight Photos.

2006-11-26T00:55:00.000Z

No, it's not a re-run of Richard Gere's worst movie (thats not saying much, really), it's the first batch of mounted milites.

Today was vaguely productive, even with the return of the old dears from their hols` (naturally, they wanted to tell me about it and naturally I was interested enough to listen). I managed to complete my first set of four mounted milites. Special thanks to the folks over on the Warhammer Ancient Battles List for pointing me in the right direction (i.e towards a web-article on painting horses).

It's hard to believe, but in fifteen years of painting (well, 19, but the first four years don't count because I thought undercoats were an item of clothing until I was about 12) these four beasts constitute my sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth horses! Yes, fifteen years and I've only ever painted NINE horses! I know, I know. I`m not the only gamer with a near-phobia of painting the damn things, but how I manged to go so long avoiding the job I'll never know.

Well, yeah, I do kinda. It comes from all those science-fiction and late medieval-style armies I've collected and 9rarely) painted. Barely a horse in sight in those and the ones you do see are covered head-to-foot in War of the Roses style barding anyway.

I've very fond of these four. My efforts may not have produced spectacular miniatures but I am painting for gaming purposes here and not for display. The really surprising thing I that I quite enjoyed painting them! I dont know why this was ever such a bugbear for me!

Well, no doubt you guy's will let me know what you think. I have five more on the table at the moment and when I finish those (hopefully early tomorrow) that will leave me all afternoon to sort out the command group, arrange an army list for Tuesday and prep the Libre spearmen for basing and painting.

It'll also give me time to do a little repair work on two spearmen I accidently spray painted rather than varnishing. Yup, I managed to have a good stab at re-undercoating two of the newly shielded spearmen you saw earlier instead of varnishing them. It'll take all of five minutes to cover up the minimal damage ( I realisedsomething was up right after the first sqoosh) but the worst thing is, they weren`t even in the FIRST batch of spearmen to be varnished. Oh no, they were the very LAST TWO!!!!.

Note to Self: Never Spray Varnish after midnight. Especially when your Spray Varnish and your Spray Undercoat have the same colour of lid. Bad, bad idea. Even for me.

Thought for the Week: "Your only goal in playing a wargame should be to make sure your opponent has a good time." - Jervis Johnson, quote courtesay of the WAB list.

Damn straight!

Shields Done: Spearmen pics

2006-11-25T14:15:00.000Z

Well, Thursday and Friday were mostly write-offs as far as painting was concerned, but I had expected that anyway. Between house hunting and the Opera Thursday saw painting squeezed right out of the schedule, with more house hunting and visiting on Friday. I did at least manage to take advantage of the transfers which arrived on Friday to finish the shields on my armoured milites. Pictures have been included.

I have to say I`m very happy with the result, although a few of the shields need a little touch up here and there before I'd be willing to allow people the option of close-scrutiny. I`ll do that later today in between painting horses and knights. So the new, wildly optimistic targets are to finish the knights over today and tomorrow (complete with shields) and at least prep and base the libre spearmen. That will give me a good (mostly painted) 1000 point force for Tuesday night. A little weaker in terms of missile troops and skirmishers than I would have liked, but thats life with little lead men.

Now I just have to work out how to get the bl;oody things to G3 without trashing them. Especially since they'll be sitting under my desk at work for most of the day. Really should have thought of that before painting. Or arranging a game. But I`ll just leave some of my other miniatures sitting on the table at home and borrow the packaging.

Eberron: Report One

2006-11-23T00:51:00.000Z

As well as wargaming, I'm also a roleplayer and very fortunate to be involved in two very excellent RPG campaigns drawn from the same pool of DM's and players. The Wedensday night game is run by Bill and sent in the D&D world of Eberron. Bill uses the "True 20" system for combat and spellcasting and D7D3.5 for everything else. I`m too tired to go in to a full summary of events in this recently-started campaign tonight and I dont see any point starting our story in the middle. So for now, I`ll just introduce the characters and their players. These blurbs tend to focus on the characters relationship with my own PC, Cole. Mostly because we've only been playing for a few weeks and are still learning about each others characters.

Cole Tristinian: Human male 31 year old Ranger2/Rogue2 (played by yours truly).

A former scout and tracker in the armies of Breiland. Even during the worst years of the "Last War" he rarely spoke about what awaited him at wars end. He clearly came from a privileged home and was eager to take over the family bussiness. Now, four years after the war has ended, Cole is a broken man, a drunkard and a physical wreck. Cole has yet to discuss why the years of peace have been so poor to him, but he has taken to the mercenary life like a drowning man to flotslam. While he remains largely bitter and despondant whenever craving his next drink (which is often) his generous nature occasionally reveals itself through brave or honourable action.

K'Dun. Warforged "male"- personality imprint Fighter 4 (played by John)

A creature born (or rather built) for war, it is perhaps not surprising that in the peace following the Last War, the wood-and-adamantium construct named K'Dun (presumably for the noise enemy weapons make when they bounce of his armour) would turn to the mercenary life. Although unable to convey emotion through facial expression, K'Dun takes great pleasure in crunching the occasional bone between his metal jaws as a celebration of victory and is found of expressing humour by pulling open his lower jaw. At times a seemingly invulnerable warrior, K'Dun has shown touching loyalty to his former comrades, especially Cole, with whom he has been recently re-united.

Octavius: Human male Cleric of the Sovreign Host lvl 4. (played by Big Tony).

A priest of the Sovreign Host, Octavius seems to have spent much of the war in a supporting role, healing wounded troops and providing them with blessing's and prayers to enhance their abilities in combat. This is a role Octavius continues within the group, trying to avoid combat where ever possible. Not out of cowardice, but from the genuine knowledge that he is the groups only healer and therefore too valuable to risk in melee. Indeed while warriors like K`Dun and (when he's sober) Cole are available to fight in the line, there is no need. Instead, he stands ready to assist the other party members with a well timed healing spell or his ability to destroy the unded with a word. Only adding his mace to the fight when the situation demands it. Like K'Dun, Octavius has made an effort to connect with Cole but is hampered by the former scouts present disregard for "Godslaves".

Karolev: Human male Wizard lvl4 (played by Andy P)

To say that Karlev, called "The Weighty" (and not just for his heavy pondering) otherwise known as "He who must be helped out of bed by a featherfall spell," was merely corpulant would be generous to say the least. This rather small, rotund little spellcaster was little more than an apprentice and a warforged repair-man during the war. Now that peace has come he is quickly growing into his power. Still young, Karlev has a not time for fools and displays a generally brusque manner. However, he seems to reserve his acid tongue for Cole's, a man whom Karleve genuinely seems to despise. It remains to be seen if this attitude is genuine, or merely an attempt to jolt the once capable Cole out of his present lethargy.

Reading this someone might wonder why a reasonably capable bunch such as the other three characters would keep Cole around. The reason is simple: loyalty. Plus he's not such a bad sort when you can keep him sober (and he never gets drunk before a fight). That, and the fact no one else in the party can sneak around an enemy camp, speak so many languages or negotiate the perils of high-society (when he wants too) as well as Cole can.

Got Nothing Done

2006-11-23T00:45:00.000Z

Got absolutely no painting done today. Nill, Nada, Zip, Zero. It took forever to base and assemble those 12 Norman milites. And as my shield and banner transfers still havent arrived I couldn't even spend the three hours while the white metal was drying working on the nearly forty shields I need to have finished by Tuesday. Grrr. More time lost. I say lost, not wasted, because at least it gave me time to read through the rulebook again - something I evidently need to do since I failed to pick up on the fact that routing skirmishers do not trigger panics tests. Makes sense after all. Running away is kind of what they're paid for.

Anyway, no further news on the Norman front tonight. And still no pics of the "completed" spearmen since their shields havent been done.

One other bit of mixed news though. John's WFRP game is of on Sunday, as he and several of the other players are off to Dice Con. Andy P and I will head of to see Casino Royale while the others are board-gaming and then its back to the sweat shop for me. So at least I might be able to catch up on my painting as a result.

Archers Done. 1st Game Arranged.

2006-11-22T01:28:00.000Z

What a busy day it's been.

Today started with a little (very, very minor) disappointment. My Gripping Beast banners and LBM shield transfers still haven't arrived. But given that it's (, well, was) only Tuesday I can hardly grumble. Maybe they'll arrive tomorrow (later today that is, since its well past 1am). The day improved considerably though. I now have seven flats to view over Thursday and Friday (yah!). On the other hand, considering I have Bill's Ebberron game tomorrow night, Pirates of Penzance at the Theatre Royal Glasgow on Thursday night and my Uncle to visit on Friday, I`m not going to have much time for painting.

Together with having popped along to G3 tonight for an hour or so to arrange a game against Colins vikings next tuesday ( a double landmark: my first game of WAB AND my first game with my new army), this means I've had to rethink my painting schedule. Especially since I absolutely hate playing with unpainted miniatures. Doesnt matter if the other guys figs are all shiny lead, just as long as mine arn't. If I fall back into the habit of playing with "naked" miniatures I`ll never get anything painted.

So, now that the Archers are finished (as of about ten minutes ago: I`m still waiting for the paint on the bases to dry so that I can add the cork. Once thats done I`ll edit this post and put up the photo's) I`m going to start work on the mounted milites, rather than the liberi spearmen. Purely because I`m going to need them as a core unit and can muddle by without the Liberi if I can't finish them all in time. I reckon that if I can do four complete cavalry models (rider and horse) each day for the next three days I`ll still have time to paint the spearmen. It will be tight, and it would probably be quicker to paint the 12 axemen I have from Perry plus their command group, but I dont think 15 Serjents with handweapons are going to cut it against Colins Vikes. I`ll have to think on what to do next, after the horsemen.

Anyway, I'm glad I had the chance to challenge Colin. For one thing he has a good reputation at the club for being patient with beginners and, despite having some pretty impressive facial hair, for not being as "beardy" as far as rules are considered. He should be a good teacher - but I`m still expecting to be soudnly thrashed. His glee when he discovered I had no armoured crossbowmen painted (or even unpainted - they'll be on order at the end of the month, as soon as I get paid) was altogether unholy. Note to self: buy more crossbowman than originally planned. Tweak army list accordingly.

One extra consideration that was brought to light by my quick visit came about from a chance conversation with Spence. Spence, the guru of "keeperdom" (on the grounds that he needs a second house just to keep his lead in - this guy has no danger of dying from painting his last miniature any time soon) reacted with some degree of surprise when I mentioned "diluting" my Perry force with Crusader figs. Spence seems to reckon that while Perry figs do indeed go well with the occasional Gripping Beast or Foundry fig, Crusader figs are far to "chunky" by comparrison to look right in the same army, let alone having the two product lines in the same unit. Colin on the other hand, (whose question's about my new Army more or less initiated this particular conversation) feels that why they're not suitable for fielding in the same unit, they look fine as seperate units.

I truly hope so, because I think the Crusdaer figures are more than merely "very nice" and I especially want some of their archers, axemen and spearmen for my collection. I was even thinking of using Crusader or GB to supply my light cavalry unit as well, but the Perry Twins will probably edge in to another fine victory over my pocket book once again.

Anyway, back to the basing and the photo's. In case your wondering, all the figures shown were painted using Vellajo Model paints, with a few colours (the dark browns and the blue-grey) from the MP "Miniatures Paints" range. Actually, I was surprised by how quickly these were to paint ( exactly three hours for each batch of six - same as the armoured spearmen) especially since there was nothing to drybrush. In fact, I seem to spend more time waiting for the "White Stone" textured paint to dry out than I do actually painting. Just so you know, I use the white stone to blend the minaitures molded-on stands into the plastic GW bases that I`m using, so that there isnt an odd bump. Ive found that if I build up two or three layers before gluing smaller "true 25mm" figs to the base, the extra 3mm or so of height can create the illusion of scale and make the different figure lines more compatible. Provided I only sprinkle two or three throughout the unit, that is.

I would try this with the Crusader miniatures as well, but Spence tells me the issue is one of breadth rather than height. Apprantly, they are just proportionally broader than the other miniature lines Ive been using. Ah well. I`ll order a pack or two (probably one of archers and one of those quilt-wearing spearmen Ive mentioned a few times) just to try them out together. Even if they dont go well together in a unit, I still hope that (for once) Spence is wrong and I can at least use them in seperate formation. If anyone out there has any experience of combining Crusader and Perry figs, I`d love to hear from you.

Pics will be up shortly (not that anyone out there is crazy enough to be reading this right now). G'night.

Edit: Pics didnt come out right due to poor lighting. Will take the pics later this monring when the sun (and I) have both risen. Ill put up another progress report tonight (most likekly in the early hours) and report on the Ebberron game.

Spearmen and Letting Agents.

2006-11-20T18:56:00.000Z

Well, I did manage to acheive my painting target for yesterday, but alas, I've failed to do any painting so fat today, let alone prepping or basing.

The reason for this, you see, is that I've spent most of the morning talking with estate agents who have so far not bothered their rear ends to return any of emails. Hopefully now Ive spoke to them over the phone they'll start putting things in motion as it were. After all, I`m on holiday all this week and my future flatmate Andy (not the cheeky one who leaves comments but the other cheeky one who doesn't) has taken two days off thursday and friday so we can go to some viewings.

And how many viewings do we have arranged yet? Precisely zero. Hence my rather sore jaw and clenched teeth. (Now now Brian, musn't yell at the poor inconvienanced civilians. (They may be in a uniform, but it's not DPM! Your not in the Army now, laddie!).

,7pm and nothing done yet. Almost a whole day gone, not that I begrudge the time spent visiting my relatives in the afternoon, as I thoroughly enjoy their company. Even so, must get some more painting done tonight. My target: Prep and base the twelve archers that I bought from Perry Miniatures and paint at least six.

If they were more spearmen I`d simply say no contest, but they're in tunics, not chainmail. So it might be another late night for me tonight. But if I`m going to have all the Perry figs I bought the other week (or at least all the infantry) painted by the time I go back to go work next Monday them I`m sure to see a few more of those.