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 The Grudge of Sheer

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DeafNala
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 5:38

Indeed this is EPIC STUFF! You've managed to achieve the level of gaming we're all striving for...GREAT terrain & minis with the RPG elements that take it from a competitive game into the realms of pure adventure. VERY WELL DONE!
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Kaptain BlackSquig
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 7:42

Gentlemen & Ladies
First off I would like to thank you all for the warm welcome and more than kind words! This campaign has been a labor of love for me, a really enjoyable narrative for our gaming group and we are still going strong two years later.

So far everything I am posting are reports and fiction pieces that were done in 2008 or 2009. Ask Von Kurst, I have been most neglecting in the update department since I had my PC crash with all of the pics, notes, etc. So while I have been proceeding forward with the campaign I have been trying to reconstruct all the lost material. As an example, The Serpent God's Due was played on Sept. 1, 2008! While alot of fluff and other things were posted after, I never got back to the battle reports.

It is hard to reconstruct the reports from memory but I did take some notes and have the warband sheets as a reference as well. I owe the Warpath guys some serious updates, as they have been screaming at me to stop crying wolf and get the reports done! So I am finally getting that ball rolling!


As far as terrain goes, it is a real group effort. Yes I get stuck somehow with the majority of the terrain building, but I enjoy it alot so I dont whine about it! A thing to note is the large tannish Pyramid and Archway you see in some of the reports. You may recgonize these pieces from somewhere else, and you would be correct. I bought them off of Bartertown back in the day if memory serves, they are the original test pieces used by the playtesters from Lustria: Cities of Gold! At the time I did not realize that until the sale was complete, but yes they are the original pieces, though I am working on detailing them. Wanted to make sure credit is given where credit is due! I didnt build those!

So again, I thank you for joining us on our romp through Lustria! Buy some mosquito netting, lace up your boots and hang on! Its going to get wild!

Da Kaptain


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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 7:53

Marienburg, Empire. Year 1693

Quote :
Outside the Merchant Quarter, a fog had settled over the sleepy city of Marienburg this chilly winter evening, draping everything in its clammy grasp. The damp cobbled streets shine as the light of swaying street lanterns dance across the slick stones. Far out on the Marienburg Sound, a muffled foghorn warns approaching vessels of the dangerous rocks jutting up from the Mananspoort Sea. The cold fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside.

A lone lamplighter is moving about his task with purpose, a warm hearth and warmer wife waiting for him at his home in far off Shantytown. He carries a tall taper and extra flint, moving from each of the delicate crystal street lanterns, alternating from one side of the street to the other, bringing to life the oil burning wicks within. Soon the wide avenue was lit with somewhat subdued light, the strong winds rattling the glass balls, dispersing the thick fog and casuing it to gather again in spots, the flames within the lanterns to flicker and cast shadows across the storefronts and townhouses of Marienburgs wealthy.

Somewhere distant a watchman rang out in a muffled voice....

"Eleven bells and all is well!" came the call, muffled through the fog from a distance and loud and grating to those closest to the watchman.

A solitary figure worked its way down the avenue, following the lantern lighter, in no great hurry, prefering it seemed to keep away from the shadows as much as possible without looking like it was keeping away from the shadows. The figure walked with the gait of age, slow but sturdy, a silver tipped cane striking the cobbles in pace with the figures heavy footfalls.

The lantern lighter, poised on the ladder below an enormous lathorn, looked back at the sound of the strangers approach, only to see wispy puffs of blue smoke wafting from the figure as it drew near. The smell of rich tobacco could be detected on the wind, a sweet delicate blend of the type the rich folk used to fill their pipes. Not the same old swamp grass he was forced to endure as a gift every Yule from the missus! As the figure drew closer the lanterman could make out more details, the rich overcoat of crushed velvet, the silver bottoned waistcoat, the polished silver buckled shoes, the fine white linen hose, the wide brimed hat with the guady large feather sporting from it. Obviously someone of wealth and position, not a mere scallywag or cutpurse.

The lanterman climbed down from his perch after the nobleman had passed, a gentle tip of the wide brimmed hat as he passsed beneath the lanternman, the only acknowledgement the noble deemed to give the man. As the nobleman passed beyond view, his shadow lengthening as he grew more distant, the lanternman could also make out the fine cutlass strapped to the mans waist and a fine brace of antigue pistols with silver grips shoved into his wide leather belt, folded doeskin gloves thrust through the front of the self same belt. The buckles of the nobleman's shoes and cane disappeared into the gloom as the lanternman continued with his nightly ritual....

.....turning north off of the wide avenue the figure began looking for his destination, a large wooden home somewhere along Cutty Sark Lane, quite a walk for a man of his advanced age, a far cry from the docks where his vessel was moored but Captain Brummel McBride did not mind the walk. While his one true love was the sea, it did him well to walk on land, it helped to ground him and let him know there was more than just the uncaring movement of the sea beneath his feet. And he had a purpose this night. A purpose that had led him to spent a fair amount of silver to help pry open the tight lipped curs on the docks, loosen the tongues of the rumormongers in the Market District, a purpose his crew was not yet privy to, a purpose that the Captain had kept to himself for these many weeks of drydock.

While repairs continued on his beloved Queen Bess' Bounty , McBride had spent his time collecting information. Every tiny scrap he could find. Maps, charts, journals, even an Estalian fryers diary had all come into his possesion, at great expense but silver well spent in his mind. A venture such as the Queen Bess's Bounty was about to undertake was not to be attempted half hearted or foolishly, and McBride was not a foolish man.

It was this keen attention to details that had brought the type of success that the Queen Bess's Bounty enjoyed. Many were her ventures to the Sea of Claws, much was the gold and treasures brought back, numerous her trips to the arid lands of Araby & Khemri, more numerous the amount of artifacts and gold filling her holds. And it was this attention to details that drew McBride out into the cold foggy night.

A well greased palm in the Maritime District to a priest of Mannon and sizable donations to the bettterment of the poor of Marienburg garnered a name, "Gentleman" James Boden, retired Naval Captain and wealthy durable goods merchant.

The information revealed Boden as a fountainhead of information about the destination planned for the Queen Bess' Bounty and much in the way of maritme legend and tale. And it was this mans home that McBride named as his destination this evening.

Following directions provided by the priest, McBride found himself a quarter hour later standing before the home of Gentleman James Boden. A remarkable home amid the wide avenues of Cutty Sark, nestled among the well tended gardens and opulant marble buildings of the wealthy, the sprawling estates with marble courtyards, the ivy covered walls dominated with the metal aquatic gargoyles and polished brass orbs. Boden apparently was a man of wealth, but also of more simple tastes. His home was a multiple storied mansion, built of dark mohogany and rich teaks, carved mantles and window frames in the shapes of dancing waves and sailing ships, colored glasses in the heavy frames and a pair of stained oaken double doors bound in polished brass. Stepping under a vast lintle carved with sailing vessles,

McBride raised his cane up to the door, ignoring the lighthouse shaped door knockers and rapped loudly with his silver tipped cane.

Again the far off cry of the Watchman could be heard....

"Eleven and One Half bells and all is well!"

Adjusting his waistcoat, soothing his vest, McBride took a step back and waited, a heavy sachel grasp under his left armpit, cane in his right hand. Very soon he heard someone approaching, someone walking with haste, shoes clip clopping on marble. From beneath the doorway McBride could see the bobbing of approaching light, no doubt a servant, major domo, someone of position in the household no doubt. McBride tapped out his pipe on the stoop as the door creaked open, spilling bluish light across the foyer and bathing McBride in a shower of azure.......


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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 7:58

Marienburg, Empire. Year 1693

Quote :
Beyond the open portal glowed with a faint bluish light, highlighting what McBride could see as a large antechamber beyond. An enormous marble fountain dominated the foyer, a soaring cathedral ceiling rising upwards to a domed cap. Seeing no one at the doorway, which was very disconcerting considering he had heard footfalls, McBride stepped across the foyer and into the room beyond. Not one to scare easy and having seen many marvelous events brought about by magic, McBride was unflustered as the door gently closed behind him. An audible click of the lock engaging did cause him a moment of hesitation however!

Gazing around the chamber, McBride could see several door beyond the fountain, as well as a side door to his left and a curtained alcove to his right. The water reflecting in the pool was enhanced by the bluish light so that it gave the dimly lit chamber the feeling of being underwater, with shimmering waves of blue and white. Teak framed tapestries were spread tastefully across the walls, all of them depicting sailing vessels. Moving towards the closest one, McBride could see that the frames were of unusual wood and the prints themselves magnificent. Truly splendid artist renditions of classic schooners and galleons. Standing with hands on hips, McBride simply admired the works. The attention to detail was flawless, he could find no incorrect proportions, no inaccuracies, nothing but genuine nautical details. McBride made a mental note to inquire as to who the artist was.

Turning back, he moved forward to get a better look at the fountain itself. A gleaming marble edifice it was, and again nearly flawless in its carvings. It depicted a quartet of Mermaids entwined amongst themselves, the waters flowing down their shoulders as if real hair. The attention to detail, the channels for the water, the effect itself took ones breath away. Schools of giant goldfish swam around the base of the fountain, the source of the bluish light seemingly coming from beneath the water....

"I see you admire the craftsmanship, ya?" came a thickly accented voice.

McBride jumped with a start, the voice breaking his fascination with the wonderful object of art, having let his guard down, he nearly dropped his satchel!

"I am indeed sir! It is a most wondrous fountain, the likes of which I might not see again. I, sir, am Captain Brummel McBride. Do I have the honor of addressing James Boden?"

McBride inquired, extending his hand to the aged gentleman that had appeared through the curtained alcove. The man had walked with a cane...

"Ya, you do indeed sir." as he neglected to shake hands, instead cupping his hands together to form a pyramid. "You will forgive me, but I don’t shake hands. A very old but quaint custom from my homeland"

"Indeed sir, and where is your homeland if I may be so bold as to inquire? I have traveled much of the Olde World but I am having trouble placing your accent."

"Very few people carry such an accent any longer Captain. Knowledge as you know is power and power is wealth. Therefore I keep certain details of my past hidden safely away here," said the old man as he tapped his head with his forefinger.

"Understood sir. I will confine my questions to the business at hand then. But I must say your home is magnificent. Never have I seen such wonder in one place. You must have spent years collecting these items, or were they commissioned?"

"Wealth has its privileges Captain. It has allowed my to live my life as I choose, surrounded by things with which I can identify."

"You seem to have a keen interest in sailing vessels. I had no idea spice merchants had such items they identified with."
The old man at those words shook ever so slightly, McBride realizing he had struck a nerve....

"I was not always a merchant, sir! I once was a Captain myself, gigantic and terrible! I stalked the decks of my great ship, and men cowered before me! But I was robbed of that because of pride. Pride in my abilties to face all dangers the sea could place before me. Pride that I was unstoppable. Pride that came with a fall! No longer was I able to walk the decks of my beloved "Dancer", no longer able to feel the sway of the ship, the freedom of the crows nest. No sir, I was struck down from my lofty perch in my prime, which resulted in this!"

He drew up his trouser legs to show McBride what he meant. The Captain could see that his left leg was made of higly polished wood! The fire in the eyes of Gentleman James was enough to quell any further questioning along the current lines.....

"Ja, so you see then. While I can no longer command a vessel, I have not lost my passion for them. In fact I have amassed a trading fleet of eight fine ships. Never have I lost me love of the sea or the wealth of her bounties. But please, let us not talk of such things. Let us adjourn to my antechambers for some refreshments. And then we can get down to the matter of your visit. My informants tell me you are seeking knowledge of places long lost, of places undiscovered, of rumours long told? I am to understand you are looking for the Font of Youth?"

McBride followed the man into the curtained alcove, watching as he leaned hard on his cane, the silver tip of which was carved in the rendering of a giant squid, wondering all along how he had known what he was going to inquire about....


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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 8:05

Marienburg, Empire. Year 1693

Quote :
McBride followed the old man down a short flight of stairs, the worn stone thickly carpeted in plush blue rugs, the whispering of hem audible as the two men descended. Wall sconces held brightly lit torches, their light casting dancing shadows upon the low hanging ceiling. Being accustomed to the open seas and salt air, the press of the walls and ceiling set McBride a little on edge; he continued to nervously grip his satchel tightly to his side as they came to the end of the stairway.

Stout wooden doors parted open as Boden pushed them open with a flourish. Green and blue light spilled in through the open doors, dancing like waves across the threshold and into the stairwell. Beyond was a room unlike any McBride had ever seen in all his decades of travel…

The floor of the room was a polished mother of pearl marble, with throw rugs placed tastefully around the width of the chamber. Rows of polished wooden racks held hundreds of books, scrolls and maps, each rack running the length of one of the three walls, and two more flanking the entrance to either side of the door. Liquid filled glass orbs that hung from the vaulted ceiling, giving the room the appearance of being submerged in the ocean, produced the bluish green lights. A giant rounded table rested in the center of the room, 8 padded chairs pushed under the rim neatly. A crystal carafe set on a slivered platter near one of the chairs, several containers of potables clearly visible in the dancing green light.

The table itself was truly a treasure onto itself, shaped and carved, as it was to look like a gigantic ships wheel, complete with cogs! The surface of the table was wooden, except where gaps appeared in the wheel, these areas being filled in with smooth glass. The whole of the table was lit by several immense candelabras each holding 12 blue candles. A roaring fireplace was opposite the opening; the bookracks built a respectable distance from the stone construction, tools of polished brass and a supply of wood rested to the left of the fireplace, ready to be utilized.

While McBride could only gawk at the beauty of the room, Boden, knowing full well the effect his private study had on visitors, cleared his throat noisily, bringing McBride out of his trance…

“My good Sir! Never have I seen a more magnificent chamber, even in the chambers of the King of Estalia or the mighty cathedral of Mannon in Altdorf. This room is a treasure onto itself.”

“I thank ye for your kind praise Captain McBride. As I have said, wealth doth have its privileges. This room is one place I can come to and forget about the rest of the world for a time. I have spent decades amassing the collection of books, maps and charts you see here. I have agents all across the Old World, in port town, shanty town and rural village, which have orders to find and procure rare documents and books about the seas and her treasures. This is why I have been able to find several pieces of information I think you will find most useful in your quest for the Font of Youth.”

“Forgive my asking Sir, but how is it you know of my request even before I have asked it? It is a little unnerving as you might imagine.”

“Please Captain; allow me to apologize for my rudeness. Would you please take a seat? Make yourself comfortable while I fix us a drink to shake off the cold.”

Boden gestured to one of the chairs facing the fireplace, while he maneuvered around the table and took up several goblets from the silver tray.

McBride moved to the offered seat, laying his cane and satchel upon the wooden part of the table nearby. Boden poured a dark amber liquid into two of the goblets, setting one before his guest and moving to a chair opposite McBride. As they were now both seated, McBride became aware now that his host stood between him and a quick means of escape, should that even happen. Even as he crossed his leg in the fashion of the nobles nowadays, he silently cocked the hammer on his pistol, still concealed within the waistband of his blouse.

Raising his goblet to his host, Boden proposed an gaudy old sailor’s toast…

“Here’s to swimmin’ with bo-legged women!” intoned the old man.

“And to hell with empty sails and calm seas!” responded McBride.

Both men drained their goblets in a flourish, wiping the dark liqour from the stout Dwarven rum from their well-manicured mustaches in unison. Boden stared into his empty goblet for some time after, a thin and knowing smile spreading across his face, as though remembering better times. He then started once more

“And now dear Captain, let us get to the meaning of your visit. My agents inform me that you are taking on supplies and sea rations for an extended voyage once the pack ice has melted from the Sea of Chaos. I am to understand your trek will take to Lustria and back?”

“Your agents are highly placed and well informed Sir. I am sure that the fee that you pay them is well worth it for the type of information they seem to be able to glean for you! Pray tell, what else do you know of the voyage?”

“Well good Captain, I know you are here because you are looking for clues as to the supposed location of the Font of Youth. Many have gone to the dark jungles of Lustria in search of this mythical spring, and while no doubt many have never returned, many more have returned in failure. There is not one documented tale in all the lore that I have researched that has yielded the resting place of this most magical fountain. In fact, had there been a true tale I am sure that it would have been discovered and plundered years ago, for it is said that a single sip from the fountain will broker a decade more of life, while a full draught will grant eternal youth to the taster. Would were that true!”

“Pardon my rudeness Sir. But if you were not able to find anything useful for me, then why am I here? And why did I bring the item you requested in payment?”

Leaning back in his chair, Boden looked at McBride with fire in his eyes, the flames from the fireplace dancing long evil shadows across his face. The old man seemed to be boring a hole straight through the Captain, who tightened the grip on his pistol, the blood beginning to slow as he continued to grasp the smooth metal and wood weapon with all his might. Both of the men sat there in silence, which was occasionally broken by the popping of a log in the fireplace. Straightening up in his chair, Boden leaned forward.

“My good Captain. My time is as valuable to me as I am sure yours is to you. I would not have invited into my home unless I had found something of use for you. I do not waste time with nigglings. Now, have you brought the payment I have asked for?”
Gentleman Jame’s voice trembled with checked anger, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair.

“I have offended you good Sir. Please accept that I have been far too long removed from the comfort of civilized society. Months at sea can make even the worldliest gentlemen jaded and offensive. And for this I am truly sorry.”

Removing his hand from his pistol, McBride stood up and reached for his satchel. The old man watched as the Captain opened the leather bindings of the satchel, well oiled leather creaking as straps were thrown back and the top opened. McBride reached inside and drew forth a cracked and faded leather bound book. The fittings were all in burnished brass and the cover of the book was embossed with a brass overlay of a leering octopi, its tentacles arrayed around a thick body. The book was set with a set of triple locks, the cover gleaming in the firelight.

“Good Sir, as promised. I have procured the logbook of the infamous pirate Lord Joshua Vanderbeek, known to many as the Kraken. As you can see, the book is locked and no key has been found yet that can open this lock. I myself have had this copy in my possession for some time now, but the Bright mages inform me that the book is trapped with some sort of fire wards, which unless the correct keys are inserted into the locks, will inflame the book, searing the contents to ash. Whatever secrets are within these pages would be lost, so I never had the nerve to try and force it open. But as agreed the book is yours, in exchange for the information I seek.”

The greed in the old man’s eyes was clearly visible to McBride as he passed the volume across the table to the old man, who carefully took it before him, running a shaking hand across its cover.

"Tell me then, good Sir. Does this meet with your satisfaction?"

"Oh yes, Captain McBride. it far exceeds the tales I have heard of the Kraken's exploits. Vanderbeek was a bucaneer without peer, his nickname came from the fact that he had tendrils in the pockets of nobelman and convicts alike, his many layered schemes and enterprises unknown to even his closet confidnats. He amassed a treasure trove of wonderous artifacts, from raids in Lustria and Cathay, to the waylaying of the legendary Treasure Fleet of Esatlia, to the sacking of the Temple of Mannon on the island of Cordova. A most, if not the most, nefarious pirate to have ever sailed the Olde World."

"And this book will tell you what then?" inquired McBride, now totally under the sway of the story teller....

"It is said to hold the secret missives of the Kraken, Letters of Margue, burial points for his greatest treasure troves and his personal journals, worth several fortunes to scholars in these parts. Ja, a most accpetable treasure indeed!"

"And my payment in kind?"

“Payment you shall have my dear Captain. Tell me, have you heard of the Orc Pirate BlackSquig…”


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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 8:12

Marienburg, Empire. Year 1693

Quote :
“....Of course I have heard of the pirate Orc BlackSquig. What mariner in these waters hasn’t? The damned greenskin is a scourge to honest shipping for sure, and a thorn in the side of the Imperial Navy. Forgive me, but I fail to see the relevance of this green skinned marauder to the quest at hand.”

Reaching into his coat, Boden drew forth a ream of well-worn papers and spread them open on the table. He then moved one of the table-lamps to cover a corner and used the Kraken’s book to cover the other. Moving forward for a closer look, McBride could see the crude Orcish scribbling on the top piece of parchment. The frayed edges of the parchment curled with age, covered with burn marks, forcing Boden to hold down one end with his elbow.

“Ja, tis true, BlackSquig is a pirate, through and through. He preys on shipping lanes to the south, river traffic to the west and has even sacked villages in the Northern Wastes. He has amassed a sizable fleet of crude Orc sailing vessels as well, his cutthroat crews of Orcs and renegade humans manning these ships and pillaging in his name. Very few people know how this villain came to be but I have here personal documents and charts that were taken in a raid of Torktuga, that den of thieves and murderers in the Karibbean. It is said a huge portion of his fleet berths there during the winter months, preying on treasure ships returning from gold rich Lustria.”

McBride was a shrewd judge of character, and it seemed to him that the old man admired the Orc. But he was quick to mentally note that he too had some measure of admiration for the Pirate. Not only had he forged a reputation in blood and steel, but he was also nothing more than a godless heathen Orc!

“Here we have, translated at considerable expense, some of the logbooks kept by BlackSquig. In particular, I think you might find these passages of interest….”

++++Translated from Orcish into Imperial Common+++++
“Fer free dayz and a zoggin night weze were adrift. Der waz no zoggin windz and da Grot was all worn out from rowin. So weze sat in da middle of da zoggin ocean while weze waited fer some windz. In da middle of da night, weze waz awakened by da brightest zoggin light me eyez ‘ad seen. It covered da zoggin ship in its greenish glow, ‘Alf da ladz figured it was a sign from Bork, at least dats wot Spook Talker told em. Da light last most of da evening, disappearin over da horizon near dawn. It was at dat point dat da sails filled again wif bref and we weze able to git underway.”

++++End Translation+++++++

“Now, it took some doing but I was able to determine the strange green light that bathed the Orc ship was caused by a phenomenon known in the Karibbean as Ghost Lights. It’s a migration of phosphorescent sea kelp that happens once ever 100 years or so and was last recorded by the College of Celestial magic in 1587.”

“Now wait a minute.” interjected McBride. “ How can that be? BlackSquig went in search of the Font of Youth. Why are there no documentation, no records? Celestial mages? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“Patience is not one of your virtues I see Captain McBride. Ja, just so. That was my thinking as well. I was sure that I was scammed out of good hard coin. Until I read further. May I continue?”

“By all means, good Sir. You now have my fullest attention.”

Moving aside several pages, Boden came to a map, darkly stained and covered in crude glyphs. Being somewhat keen with maps, McBride easily recognized a crude rendering of the coast of Lustria….

+++++Translated from Orcish to Imperial Common+++++++

DAY WUN “Weze landed in da zoggin jungle near da faces of da godz. I ordered old Peglegz and his ladz to take da dingy and go on shore to check it out. Dey didn’t git out of da water wot dey was shot all ter pieces by a bunch o zoggin arrers! Da Grots on deck all messed demselvez and I had to ‘ave alf da gitz thrown overboard fer stinkin up da place. Gave a whole new meanin to da werd “poop deck”. Hur, hur, hur!”

DAY TOO “Once weze blackened da shore wif loadz of kannon fire, we set about toppling da stone figurez, poundin dem to rubble. Meanwhile dem zoggin jungle runtz stayed well back in da treeline, scatterin wif every blast of da long gunz. Beyond da jungle weze could see lotz of mountains pushin up from da jungle, all belchin smoke and fire and stuff. Spook Talker seze itz da wrath of da godz, punishin us fer commin on der sacred ground and killin der guardz. I laughed at dat, right as one of da mountains blew its top, throwin lava all around. I just basked in da hot windz, relishin da raw power. Surely da Font must be near, lest de godz wouldn’t be gittin all angry…”

DAY FREE “ Da zoggin Stunties be buggin our trail still! Dun snuck up in da night whilz weze was onshore and put kannon round into da BlackSquig! Me beautiful went up like a zoggin rokkit, fire blowing up da powder stores and sinkin me only way off diz zoggin island! I fink we lost em in da jungle but deze hell bent on krumpin uz. I fought we done krumped dem good and proper back in da big jungle! Da further weze move into da jungle, da thicker it be gittin. Lost a score of ladz to da zoggin fire ants, annuver few ladz to da zoggin quicksand pitz! Still, da jungle Runtz iz keeping der distance, I fink datz because of all da noise da stunties be makin! Wotever, I knowz we be close to da Font and all da gold weze can carry! And den weze gonna make dem Stunties pay! I fancy me a new ship and der Heart of Stone fitz dat bill! Hur, hur, hur!”

+++++End Translation+++++++

Drawing in a breath, Boden leaned back in his chair staring intently at McBride, even as McBride stared intently at the map before him. Markers, landmarks, encounters, the Font. Could it all be true?

“So Captain, what do think of the tale? I know it makes for a good bedtime story in its full translation, but I assure you I left in all of the relevant parts.”

“Yes but what you are saying here, from this pile of gibberish, is that BlackSquig went in search of the Font of Youth. But what is all this other nonsense? Dwarves? Jungle Runtz? Seems a fancy tale to be sure but it seems to me that it is just that, a tale. I measure my response here but I think I may be had!”

“Good Captain. You don’t see the clues? The landmark is clearly the coast of Lustria. The greenish light, once ever 100 or so years. The maps? The references to the Dwarves pursuing the Orcs? That tale is well documented in the Grudge of Sheer, a collection of Dwarven works, chronicling the tale of the Heart of Stone, which BlackSquig makes mention of in his log. None of this is making sense?”

“If what you say is true, BlackSquig would have to be over 100 years old….”

“Ja, I see by the look in your eyes you have put the pieces together. And you can see that I am not deceiving in you in any way. You asked for some sort of references to the possible location, and I have provided them. Crude as it is, the Orcish map should enable you to retrace the steps that BlackSquig took.”

The lights in McBride’s eyes were flashing, his mind swimming with details. So the old Orc pirate must have found the Font of Youth, what else could explain his longevity? And here McBride had all the tools he needed to plot his course and find the Font! Eternal youth, the ability to live forever without aging, sail the seas, grow wealthy, outlast his rivals. All these visions were dancing through his head as he collected the parchments and placed them carefully in his satchel.

“It seems I was hasty in my dismissal of your work good Sir. Indeed the clues were plain to see and I am indebted to you. My ship sails in a fortnight, we sail for Lustria!”

“The completion of a century old quest is within your grasp, a bedtime story I think we would all like to wake to. If the Font is there good Captain, then your name is assured in the annals of history! While I am pleased to have been of service, what if only I could make the journey myself. You understand I must examine this treasure you have brought me, are you able to see your way out?”

Bowing to his host, McBride retrieved his cane and satchel and ascended from the chamber, his step quick and with purpose. He had a ship to stock and a course to plot. Cluthcing his coat tightly about him to ward off the cold wind, McBride made his way back through town to his beloved ship, thoughts of a journey unheard of dancing in his head. He tipped his hat at the aged lamp lighter as he passed by once more, the old man shaking his head ruefully…

For a few minutes after the Captain had left, the only noise in the room was the popping of wood and the occasional spark as another piece settled. Boden looked up from the book to a darkened alcove at that point, muttering a few simple words of ancient origin.

Stepping into the light came a massive Orc, bedecked in rich clothing. The creature wore a great coat of waterproof leather, breeches, a wide belt adorned with pistols and a sheathed cutlass, a silken doublet and a wide brimmed hat with a ridiculously large feather in it. The Orc reached for the goblet McBride had sipped from, using his left hand, as the right one was not a hand at all but a gnarled rusty hook. A typically pirate appendage to be sure!

“So my dear BlackSquig, you heard?”

“Yer,” grumbled the Orc in crude common. “I don’t know if I likez it when yose give out me secretz so freely.”

“A needed evil I am afraid. That one is too smart for his own good. He is well prepared and not nearly as gullible as some of the others I have sent you. You should plan to take him when he rounds Mannon’s Jetty, as usual. I have doubt they will be prepared for an attack this late into the season. His vessel is a stout galleon but weakened in the port side due to recent repairs following a protracted broadside with a Brettonian frigate. She has been in dry dock for some time now so my agents have been able to do extensive studies of her and ensure she is weakened in all the right spots. I am told that is your best place to strike; the hull should crumble quite readily. And now, what of my payment?”

“Yer, not sure wot da zog you wantz wif all deze keys, I dont’z know wot ‘alf of dem are even fer. Why not ask fer gold like yose usually do?”

Whereas BlackSquig drew out a bag heavy with keys, spilling the contents onto the table in a loud jumble.

" Iz dun collected deze key fer decades now, took em from all sorts of scum. Pirates, buccaneers, magistrates, fello Kaptains. Damned obbession , da zoggin Grotz and Spook Talker got me hooked on doin it, seze it brings good luck. Me, I makez me own luck. Not sure wot da zog yose wantz wif da lot, but deze are fer yose, as agreed."

“Be assured I have my reasons, good Kaptain. I have my reasons. I have heard of your particular obbsession, which is why I asked about the collection you have in the first place. Rest assured these are well worth the compensation and will serve my needs quite nicely. We shall both have what we want then. Good luck to you Kaptain, and good hunting!”

BlackSquig left the chamber by the same door that McBride had used, lurching out into the foggy night and making his way to the south of town where his beloved BlackSquig was berthed in a hidden cove. He had stores to take on and a course to plot....

As the Kaptain left the room, Boden ran his hands over the keys, muttering something the Orc could not understand. Two of the keys began to glow with a faint bluish light, each one about the same size and shape. Boden reached into his pocket and drew forth another key, which also glowed with the same tint of blue. Yes he thought to himself. It had been good hunting indeed. We shall all have what we desire, as he reached for the two glowing keys…


Last edited by Kaptain BlackSquig on Sat 31 Jul 2010 - 19:34; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 12 Apr 2010 - 8:16

The Ballad of the Queen Bess's Bounty

The legend lives on from Marienburg Sound
Of the shallow strait they call Mannan’s Jetty
That strait, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.


With a hold full of stores, bound for lost shores
And a hull that was cannon marred weakened
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.

The ship was the pride of the Marienburg side
Heading south to the jungles of the Old Ones
As the leagues gave way to billowing white sails
With a crew and a Captain well seasoned.

Beginning a trek that would put coin in their purse
When they returned to the lands of Sigmar’s Heirs
And later that night when the ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they be feelin?

The wind in the rigging made a tattletale sound
As the waves broke over the railings
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too
T’was the witch of November come callin.

The dawn came late and the breakfast would wait
When the gales of the strait came slashing
When the afternoon came it was freezing rain
Soon the decks and rigging were glistening.

When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying lads it’s too rough to feed ya
A flash of cannon fire, as the main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it’s been good to know ya.

Captain McBride shouted as the water came in
And the good ship and crew were in peril
As out of dark came a black raider’s ship
Spelling doom for the Bountiful Queen Bess

Da BlackSquig approached, her crew screaming for blood
And drew fast into broadsides position
And later that night when the cannon smoke cleared
Came the wreck of the Queen Bess's Bounty.

Does anyone know where the love of Sigmar goes
When the waves turn the world into minutes
The suvivors all say they’d have made the Quay
If they’d fifteen more leagues behind her.

She might have split up or she might of capsized
Or she may even been taken as booty
And all that remains are the faces and names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Mannansport rolls, and the dark Jetty moans
In the ruins of her ice water mansion
Her depths they say are bottomless and grey
Full of fools whose greed came to call ‘em.

And far below in the deeps so cold
Mannon waits take what we send him
And the treasure ships go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Marienburg they prayed
In the bowels of the temple of Mannan
The church bell chimed, til it rang 60 times
For each man on the Queen Bess's Bounty.

The legend lives on from Marienburg Sound
Of the dark straits they call Mannan’s Jetty
If the winds don’t get ya, Da BlackSquig will
When the winds of November come early.

....penned by the Halfling Bard, Gourmet Lightfoot, 1693
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Tue 13 Apr 2010 - 8:29

Thought I would post the warbands that are taking part in the Grudge of Sheer campaign. These are customized warbands based loosely on the ones found in the Mordheim rules and other online inspirations.
Please let me know if I am violating any of the forum rules here! I am not posting stats, etc, just the meat of the lists.
First we start with the Good Guys:

DWARVEN GRUDGE CRUISE WARBAND

Grudge Captain: 1 Grudge Captain no more, no less!.
Grudge Engineer: Your warband may include up to 1 Engineer.
Troll Slayers: Your warband may include up to 1 Troll Slayer.
Greatbeards: Your warband may include up to 2 Greatbeards
Dwarven Marines: Warband may include up to 5 Dwarven Marines.
Beardlings: Your warband may include any number of Beardlings.

Special Rules
Hard to Kill: Dwarfs are tough, resilient individuals who can only be taken Out Of Action on a roll of 6 instead of 5-6 when rolling on the Injury chart. Treat a roll of 1-2 as Knocked Down, 3-5 as Stunned, and 6 as Out Of Action.
Hard Head: Dwarfs ignore the special rules for maces, clubs, etc. They are not easy to knock out!

Armor: Dwarfs never suffer movement penalties for wearing armor.

Hate Orcs & Goblins: All Dwarfs hate Orcs and Goblins. See the psychology section of the Mordheim rules for details on the effects of hatred.

Grudgebearers: Dwarfs hold an ancient grudge against Elves from the days when the two races fought for supremacy in the Old World. A Dwarf warband may never include any kind of Elven Hired Sword or Dramatis Personae.

Starting Experience:
A Dwarven Grudge Captain starts with 20 XP.
A Grudge Engineer starts with 10 XP.
Troll Slayers start with 8 XP.
Dwarven Marines start with 0 XP.
Beardlings start with 0 XP.

Dwarven Mariners Skill Tables
The Grudge Captain may choose from the Combat, Shooting, Strength or Special.
The Engineer may choose from the Combat, Shooting or Special.
A Troll Slayer may choose from the Combat, Strength or Special.
Greatbeards may choose from the Combat, Strength or Special

HEROES
1 Dwarven Grudge Captain; 85 gold crowns to hire

Dwarven Grudge Captains are fortune seekers who have recruited a band of like-minded Dwarfs and set off from their stronghold in search of riches. A Grudge Captain is well respected by the members of his warband and his orders are obeyed without question. Often he is a member of one of the noble families of the lost Dwarf strongholds, dreaming of collecting enough treasure to restore the former glory of the Dwarf Kingdoms, or fulfilling some ancient grudge. Grudge Captains undertaking these missions embark are what are commonly known as Grudge Cruises, though they are by no means pleasurable!

Special Rules:
Leader: Any models in the warband within 6" of the Grudge Captain may use his Leadership instead of their own.

0-1 Master Engineer: 50 gold crowns to hire

Dwarf Engineers are respected members of Dwarf society. It is they who design and build the complex war machines and devices which have made the Dwarfs famous. Engineers embarking on Grudge Cruises are responsible for the repair and servicing of the ships under their Grudge Captain’s command.

Special Rules:
Expert Weaponsmith: A Grudge Engineer is a master of mechanical devices. By using stronger construction materials and time-tested secrets of Dwarf engineering, a Dwarf Engineer can increase the distance the Warbands’ missile weapons can shoot. All Dwarf missile weapons in the warband have their range increased by 3" for Pistols and 6" for Crossbows and Handguns. Any range increases are only maintained as long as the Dwarf Engineer remains with the warband.

0-1 Dwarf Troll Slayers; 50 gold crowns to hire

Troll Slayers are members of the morbid Dwarf cult obsessed with seeking an honorable death in combat. Having committed some unforgivable crime or been dishonored in some way, a Dwarf will forsake his home and wander off to die fighting the enemies of Dwarvenkind. Troll Slayers are insanely dangerous individuals, psychopathic and violent. There is however few better fighters in the known world, so they are much sought after by Dwarf Grudge Captains who harness their need of combat to their own ends in some distant corner of the Olde World.

Special Rules:
Deathwish: Troll Slayers seek an honorable death in combat. They are completely immune to all psychology and never need to test if fighting alone.

Slayer Skills: Troll Slayers may choose a skill from the Troll Slayer Skill table instead of the normal Skill tables when they gain a new skill. Dwarf Slayers may use the following Skill table as well as any of the standard Skill tables available to them.

Ferocious Charge: The Slayer may double his attacks on the turn in which he charges. He will suffer a -1 ‘to hit’ penalty on that turn.

Monster Slayer: The Slayer always wounds any opponent on a roll of 4+, regardless of Toughness, unless his own Strength (after all modifiers due to weapon bonuses, etc) would mean that a lower roll than this is needed.

Berserker: The Slayer may add +1 to his close combat ‘to hit’ rolls during the turn in which he charges.

0-2 Greatbeards 50 GC to hire

Greatbeards are the long standing friends and advisors of the Grudge Captain. They have lived for countless centuries and garnered more knowledge about the seas and exploration than the longest lived Elf. Loyal unto death, they would follow their Captain into the gates of purgatory itself if he deemed it needed to fulfill their Grudge Cruise.

HENCHMEN
0-5 Dwarf Marines 35 gold crowns to hire

Dwarf Marines are experts at using missile weapons. Many an Orc or Goblin has died by the sting of a crossbow bolt or a roaring handgun bullet shot by a Dwarven Marine. They are excellent boarding troops as well and excel at close combat on the high seas.

0+ Beardlings 25 gold crowns to hire

These are young Dwarfs who have joined the retinue of an experienced Dwarf Mariner warband hope to make their own fortune or resolve the grudge along with their clansmen.

DWARF SPECIAL SKILLS
Dwarf Heroes may use the following Skill table instead of any of the standard Skill tables available to them.

Master of Blades This Dwarf’s martial skills surpass those of a normal warrior; he has fought unscathed against hordes of Orcs and Goblins. When using a weapon that has a Parry special rule, this hero parries successfully if he beats or matches his opponents highest ‘to hit’ roll, not just if he beats the roll. In addition, if this warrior is using two weapons that have the Parry special rule, he is allowed to parry two attacks (if his two dice match or beat the two highest Attack dice against him) instead of the normal maximum of one. Note that if this Dwarf has two Dwarf axes (as detailed above) he can re-roll any failed parries.

Extra Tough: This Dwarf is notorious for walking away from wounds that would kill a lesser being. When rolling on the Heroes Serious Injury chart for this Hero after a game in which he has been taken Out Of Action, the dice may be re-rolled once. The result of this second dice roll must be accepted, even if it is a worse result.

Resource Hunter This Dwarf is especially good at locating valuable resources. When rolling on the Exploration chart at the end of a game, the Hero may modify one dice roll by +1/-1.

True Grit: Dwarfs are hardy individuals and this Hero is hardy even for a Dwarf! When rolling on the Injury table for this Hero, a roll of 1-3 is treated as Knocked Down, 4-5 as Stunned, and 6 as Out Of Action.

Thick Skull: The Hero has a thick skull, even for a Dwarf. He has a 3+ save on a D6 to avoid being Stunned. If the save is made, treat a Stunned result as Knocked Down instead. If the Dwarf also wears a helmet, this save is 2+ instead of 3+ (this takes the place of the normal Helmet special rule).
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Kaptain BlackSquig
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Tue 13 Apr 2010 - 9:28

Dwarven Prospector Expeditionary Warband

Dwarves are one of the strongest races of the Old World. Though they have suffered grievous losses in recent times, they are still a force to be reckoned with, as many a foe has discovered. Dwarves are a people of the Earth and Stone. Durable, taciturn, and stoic they are renowned for several things. Dwarves are the greatest blacksmiths, drunks, and miners the Olde World has ever seen. Though some groups of upstart younglings have also made their way to Lustria in search of gold, they are not the sole representatives of Dwarvenkind on the continent of Lustria. Some adventurous parties of Dwarven Miners from the tunnels and halls under the mountains near Barak Varr have also journeyed to the New World to get what profits they may. The following is a representation of their composition.

Dwarven Prospector Expedition
A Dwarf Miners band must include a minimum of 3 models, and can have a maximum of 12 models including 5 Heroes and 1 leader. A starting warband must be lead by a Prospector, but should he be killed they may not acquire another; a new leader will step forth from amongst the members of the band.

Special Abilities
Expert Miners: The warband automatically gets an extra piece of treasure in the Exploration phase.

Resolute: Dwarves: Only taken Out of Action on a '6', Immune to the stunning attacks of Clubs, Hammers, etc.

Intolerant: Will NEVER hire a Monstrous Creature, including Ogres.

Grudgebearers: Dwarves will work with elves, but at a cost. If the warband has employed an Elf he will leave on a roll of 4+ on a D6 after each battle.

Hate Orcs & Goblins: All Dwarfs hate Orcs and Goblins. See the psychology section of the Mordheim rules for details on the effects of hatred.

HEROES
Prospector: The Warband must be lead by a Prospector
Tunnel Fighters: The Warband may include up to 2 Tunnel Fighters
Master Miner The Warband may include up to 2 Master Miners
Sapper The Warband may include a single Sapper

HENCHMEN
Miners The Warband may include up to 5 Miners
Tunnel Runners The Warband may include up to 5 Runners
Diggers The Warband may include 0+ Diggers
Grudge Pony: The Warband may include 0-1 Grudge Pony

Starting Experience
Experience and Skills
Prospector: Combat, Strength, Shooting, *Dwarf. Starts with 20XP
Master Miner: Combat, Strength, *Dwarf. Starts with 10XP
Tunnel Fighters: Combat, Strength, *Dwarf. Starts with 8XP
Sapper: Combat, *Dwarf, Shooting. Starts with 0XP
*These Heroes have access to the special 'Dwarf' Skills List from the existing WD Dwarven Treasure Hunters warband. All Heroes in the list have access to the Miners Skills as well.

Miner Skills
Lantern Bearer Most Miners wear a lantern affixed to their Helmet; some become adept at using it as a weapon. When in HtoH, the Miner is practiced at shining the lantern into the faces of his opponents. One opponent in HtoH looses all their attacks in the first turn of HtoH. Miner must possess a Lantern.

Pickmaster The Miner's pick is like an extension of his arm; he wields it with consummate skill. He is +1 to hit with a Pick (+1 to the die roll, not +1 WS).

Dwarven Awareness The Miner is attuned to his surroundings. While underground, he is never surprised and automatically detects any model within triple his initiative. Additionally, in any scenario where gold, gems, or precious metals are hidden, the Master Miner receives a +/- 1 to detect it (whichever is beneficial).

Resource Hunter: This Dwarf is especially good at locating valuable resources. When rolling on the Exploration chart at the end of a game, the Hero may modify one dice roll by +1/-1.

HEROES
Prospector 85 GC to hire
The Prospector is the toughest and most authoritative member of the band. He is used to getting the job done and doesn't take no for an answer.
Special Ability: Leader. All warriors in the band within 6" of the Foreman may use his Leadership value for Leadership tests.

0-2 Tunnel Fighters 50 GC to hire
Some Dwarves are trained to be experts at fighting in enclosed spaces, and in their native environment are truly impressive. Their experience with close quarter’s conditions serves them well in the ruins of the Damned City or ruins of Lustria.

Special Ability: Hardened Fighters. The warrior is Immune to All Alone Tests, but not other Psychology effects.
Special Ability: Tunnel Fighter. +1 WS, +1 Attack when fighting HtoH in a catacomb, ruin, or underground.

0-2 Master Miners 50 GC to hire
Master Miner are some of the best of the best when it comes to delving beneath the surface, looking for fine metals, or digging for anything in general. A warband with a Master Miner is sure to reap fat rewards.

Special Ability: Master Miner. If a warband has a Master Miner, they may ignore shifting terrain, subterranean traps, and pitfalls as long as he is not out of action. Additionally, if the Master Miner is not put out of action, roll an additional die in the Exploration phase exactly as if the band has an additional member.

0-1 Sapper 75 GC to hire
The Sapper has one of the toughest and most dangerous roles to fill in the entire warband. The Sapper is responsible for finding and disabling traps and other perils while the Warband is digging underground. He is also skilled in setting complex traps in the same manner.

Special Abilities:
Trap Detection. The Sapper can make a skill check to disarm any trap found during a game or exploration. GM will assign difficulty rating; the Sapper rolls 2d6. If score is equal to or exceeds the difficulty rating, the trap is disarmed. When entitled to a Skill upgrade, he may improve Sapper. Each improvement adds +1 to his 2d6 difficulty rolls, making it easier to find and disarm these traps. The same applies to setting a trap, 2d6 roll versus the difficulty rating.

Demolition: If the Sapper moves into base contact with a structure, fortification or barrier, he can attempt to remove, weaken or topple said terrain piece. The Sapper must spend two rounds in contact with the terrain as he sets fuses, primes cord, etc. During this time he may not move, shoot or engage in combat. A skill check, with a target number assigned by the GM, must then be passed and if successful the terrain will be toppled, counting now as difficult terrain. The terrian piece cannot be any larger than 1' X 1'. If the skill check is failed, the demolitions do not detonate and the Sapper may try again as above. If a second failure happens then not only does the attempt fail, but the Sapper suffers a D6 S3 hits as well, due to falling masonry, premature demolitions going off, burning his fingers on the fuse....

HENCHMEN
0-5 Miners 40 GC to hire
Miners are the workforce of the band. They are typically heavily armored and bear large picks that are practical tools and weapons combined, as well as Lanterns and candles. With luck and experience they might reach the rank of Master Miner themselves.

0-4 Tunnel Runners 30 GC to hire
Normally regarded as a slow race, even the Dwarves find it necessary to employ a little speed occasionally. Some young Dwarves are trained in the art of Tunnel Running from childhood. Through years of hard training and physical conditioning these Tunnel Runners are able to move as quickly as a human.

Special Ability: Runners. Once a group of Tunnel Runners gain 10 XP, they gain access to the Speed Skills. If given a chance to choose an upgrade (BS, WS, etc), they may instead choose to take a Speed Skill instead. This is a special exception that only applies to Tunnel Runners.

0+ Diggers 40 GC to hire
Diggerz are the rank and file of the band. Solid and flexible with good stats and good HtoH equipment options, they are an excellent selection. Though not as skilled as Miners, these Dwarfs suffer the jabs of their betters, being called dust devils, dirt beards, shovel slingers and rock dogs! While not able to get the Miners gear, these apprentices are still eager to learn, and look forward to the day when they become full pledged Miners!

0-1 Grudge Pony 100 GC to hire
The Grudge Pony is a strong symbol to the Mining Guilds of the Dwarven race. It represents the strong, stoic attitude of the race and also serves as a focal point for the Mining Guild because it stands for their beliefs. A Grudge Pony serves as a rally point for the Miners during their ventures, and is heavily warded and armored to protect it from harm.

Special Rules:
Unbreakable

Beast of Burden (allows up to 10 extra treasures to be carried)

Runic Protection: Ward Save 4+

Weapons and Armor: Grudge Ponies, when forced to fight, use their ironshod hooves to trample their foes. Counts as having hand weapons.

Special Ability: Iconic Imagery: Any Miners within 8” of a Grudge Pony are considered fearless. Also any Miners within 8” will not have to make All Alone rolls while fighting.
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Thu 15 Apr 2010 - 10:16

Dwarven Mariner Contingent Warband
Quarter Master: Your Warband must include 1 Quarter Master, no more, no less!
Master Engineer: Your warband may include up to 1 Master Engineer.
Master Gunner: Your warband may include up to 1 Master Gunner.
Surgeon: Your warband may include up to 1 Surgeon
Cook: Your Warband may include up to 1 Cook

Sailors: Your warband may include any number of Dwarven Sailors.
Dwarven Marines: Your warband may include up to 5 Dwarven Marines.
Long Gunner: Your warband may include up to 1 Long Gunner

Special Rules
Hard to Kill: Dwarfs are tough, resilient individuals who can only be taken Out Of Action on a roll of 6 instead of 5-6 when rolling on the Injury chart. Treat a roll of 1-2 as Knocked Down, 3-5 as Stunned, and 6 as Out Of Action.

Hard Head: Dwarfs ignore the special rules for maces, clubs, etc. They are not easy to knock out!

Armor: Dwarfs never suffer movement penalties for wearing armor.

Hate Orcs & Goblins: All Dwarfs hate Orcs and Goblins. See the psychology section of the Mordheim rules for details on the effects of hatred.

Grudgebearers: Dwarfs hold an ancient grudge against Elves from the days when the two races fought for supremacy in the Old World. A Dwarf warband may never include any kind of Elven Hired Sword or Dramatis Personae.

Incomparable Sailors: Dwarven sailors spend all of their lives at sea searching for lost treasures, new trade routes and defending Dwarven merchant fleets, and are thought by many to be the best sailors in the world, save the seadogs of Tilea. As a result they are very proficient at fighting at sea and are rarely outmatched or out gunned during naval engagements. To represent this, they provide a Ward Save of 6+ to their ships vital areas during a naval engagement and also can re-roll failed Course Correction checks when at sea.

Starting Experience:
A Quarter Master starts with 20 XP.
A Master Engineer starts with 10 XP.
A Master Gunner starts with 8 XP.
Dwarven Sailors start with 0 XP.
Dwarven Marines start with 0 XP.
A Cook starts with 0 XP.
A Long Gunner starts with 0 XP.

Dwarven Mariner Contingent Skill Tables
Quarter Masters may choose from the Combat, Saavy, Shooting, Strength or Dwarven.

Master Engineers may choose from the Combat, Shooting or Dwarven.

Master Gunners may choose from the Combat, Shooting or Dwarven.

Surgeons may choose from the Academic, Combat, Saavy or Dwarven

Cooks may choose from the Combat, Saavy or Dwarven

HEROES
1 Dwarven Quarter Master 85 gold crowns to hire
Dwarven Quarter Masters are masters of the waves. Most Quarter Masters hail from the sea faring hold of Barak Varr. Often he is a member of one of the noble families of the lost Dwarf strongholds, dreaming of collecting enough treasure to restore the former glory of the Dwarf Kingdoms, or defending the Dwarven ports from pirate attacks. Quarter Masters undertaking these missions embark are what are commonly known as Grudge Cruises, though they are by no means pleasurable!

Special Rules:
Leader: Any models in the warband within 6" of the Grudge Captain may use his Leadership instead of their own.

0-1 Grudge Master Engineer 50 gold crowns to hire
Dwarf Engineers are respected members of Dwarf society. It is they who design and build the complex war machines and devices which have made the Dwarfs famous. Engineers embarking on Grudge Cruises are responsible for the repair and servicing of the ships under their care.

Special Rules:
Expert Weaponsmith: A Master Engineer is a wizard of mechanical devices. By using stronger construction materials and time-tested secrets of Dwarf engineering, a Dwarf Master Engineer can increase the distance the warbands missile weapons can shoot. All Dwarf missile weapons in the warband have their range increased by 3" for Pistols and 6" for Crossbows and Handguns. Any range increases are only maintained as long as the Dwarf Engineer remains with the warband.

Olde World Craftsmen: Master Engineers are able to make repairs to the vessels with whatever materials they may find on hand. Many a Dwarven vessel has been kept afloat by Master Engineers with little more than spit and bailing wire! As such a Master Engineer may repair damaged sections of their ship on a 5+.

0-1 Master Gunner 50 GC to hire
Master Gunners are Dwarves that have been disabled in battle, their legs no longer able to propel them into battle. As such they tend to rely more and more on their senses and many take up life onboard Ironclads, lending their keen eyes and ears to the weapons of the vessel.

Special Rules:
Excellent Aim: The Master Gunner may re-roll a result rolled in the Artillery phase after a miss has been rolled, the second result must be accepted. A misfire can also be re-rolled but a second Misfire must be accepted if rolled.

Dead Eye Shot: The master Gunner is deadly accurate with his fire arms and adds +1 to the roll to wound result, making sure the shot hits between the eyes!

0-1 Surgeon 50 GC to hire
Dwarven Surgeons are much sought after, their art coming in very handy on long voyages where the ships might be away from a safe port for months, even years, on end. Having one around to patch up wounded Dwarves is just what the doctor ordered!

Special Rules:
Surgery: If the Surgeon was not taken Out of Action during the game, any Heroes who are required to roll on the Serious Injury table following the battle may re-roll the result. The second result must be accepted, even if it is worst.

0-1 Cook 25 GC to hire
Having a Cook on board ship could mean the difference between life and death as far as Dwarven sailors are concerned! A good Cook can make something out of nothing and also holds the keys to the liqueur locker as well! No sane Quarter Master would dare set to sea without a Cook!

Special Rules:
Cook: During a battle, any models that can draw a line of sight to the Cook do not have to take All Alone tests.

Keys to the Cabinet: The Quarter Master will ensure the Cook is protected at all costs since he holds the keys to the ships liquor stores and therefore garner some form of protection for the Dwarf prior to going to sea. The Cook therefore benefits form a 6+ Ward Save.


Henchmen
0+ Dwarf Sailors 25 GC to hire
These are Dwarf warriors in their prime: tough, stubborn and brave warriors who can be relied on to hold their own against any foe. They have taken the Grudge Cruise to help their Captain or to fulfill a wanderlust they have fostered for decades while living under ground. As stalwart as their deep dwelling kinsmen, Dwarven Sailors are an anchor in a sea of chaos. Their skills and abilities as seaman are unlike any other, and they are highly valued by Grudge Captains and seamen the world over.

0-5 Dwarf Marines 35 GC to hire
Dwarf Marines are experts at using missile weapons. Many an Orc or Goblin has died by the sting of a crossbow bolt or a roaring handgun bullet shot by a Dwarven Marine. They are excellent boarding troops as well and excel at close combat on the high seas.

0-1 Long Gunners 100 GC to hire
The mighty Dwarven Long Gun is little more than a small cannon with an exceptionally long barrel, usually mounted along a ship’s rail, giving them a stable platform from which to fire. They are used primarily used to repel boarders or target enemy leaders prior to a boarding action. Unlike the swivel gun which is relatively ineffective at long range, the long gun comes into its own for long range sniping. In the hands of a trained shooter, the long gun is a sniping weapon of devastating power and accuracy.

Special Rules:
Sniper: A Long Gunner can ignore the closest target when it comes to target selection, and may shoot at any enemy in line of sight at any time.

Long Gun: The Long Gun has a range of 60”, S5 and does a D3 wounds when rolling to wound. It takes one turn to reload after being fired and cannot move and fire in the same turn. If a Long Gunner remains stationary for a turn, he adds +1 to his to hit rolls in the next shooting phase. Note that if the gun is being reloaded, this rule doe not apply. The bonus assumes the gun is loaded and the Long Gunner is taking careful aim.

Dwarf Special Skills
Dwarf Heroes may use the following Skill table instead of any of the standard Skill tables available to them.

Master of Blades: This Dwarf’s martial skills surpass those of a normal warrior; he has fought unscathed against hordes of Orcs and Goblins. When using a weapon that has a Parry special rule, this hero parries successfully if he beats or matches his opponents highest ‘to hit’ roll, not just if he beats the roll. In addition, if this warrior is using two weapons that have the Parry special rule, he is allowed to parry two attacks (if his two dice match or beat the two highest Attack dice against him) instead of the normal maximum of one. Note that if this Dwarf has two Dwarf axes (as detailed above) he can re-roll any failed parries.

Extra Tough: This Dwarf is notorious for walking away from wounds that would kill a lesser being. When rolling on the Heroes Serious Injury chart for this Hero after a game in which he has been taken Out Of Action, the dice may be re-rolled once. The result of this second dice roll must be accepted, even if it is a worse result.

Resource Hunter: This Dwarf is especially good at locating valuable resources. When rolling on the Exploration chart at the end of a game, the Hero may modify one dice roll by +1/-1.

True Grit: Dwarfs are hardy individuals and this Hero is hardy even for a Dwarf! When rolling on the Injury table for this Hero, a roll of 1-3 is treated as Knocked Down, 4-5 as Stunned, and 6 as Out Of Action.

Thick Skull: The Hero has a thick skull, even for a Dwarf. He has a 3+ save on a D6 to avoid being Stunned. If the save is made, treat a Stunned result as Knocked Down instead. If the Dwarf also wears a helmet, this save is 2+ instead of 3+ (this takes the place of the normal Helmet special rule).

Saavy Skills
Hardened Resolve (Quarter master Only): The Dwarf has hidden reserves of courage and tenacity and may re-roll the first failed Break Test of any game.

Seasoned Seadog: The Dwarf is an old pro when it comes to movement and life aboard ship. He may therefore re-roll any failed I tests when on board ship only.

Merchant Marine: The Dwarf is good at haggling and has several store contacts. He adds +2 to all dice rolls to find rare equipment.

Taunt: The Dwarf knows a dizzying of taunts, lewd gestures and all manner or racial and personal insults through years of calls to ports of seedy reputation. Any model wishing to attack the Dwarf must make a LD test or be distracted and unable to attack this round. Note that the Dwarf with this skill may not attack either as his focus is on dazzling the opponent with his war of words!

Gambler: The Dwarf is fantasctic at gambling, knowing games from all across the Olde World. Having handled and dealt with all manner of exocitc good and valuables. As a result the Dwarf is able to cast his decerning eye across a horde of valuables and discard those pieces that are cheap or worhtless. To represnt this in the game, the Dwarf may re-roll a single die when rolling for Income, as long as he does not search for rare equipment or was taken Out of Action during the battle. The Dwarf may also re-roll a failed Gambling check but must abide by the second result, even if it is worst!

Fearsome Reputation: The Dwarf is infamous, either through visage or battle prowess and other combatants are fearful to attack him! The Dwarf causes Fear.

And that takes care of the Good Guys, up next are the Bad Guys....
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DeafNala
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Fri 16 Apr 2010 - 4:20

Sorry for a lack of commentary. It's all rather overwhelming...with all the COOL photos, narratives, special rules, & all the prerequisite lip movement involved. FANTASTIC STUFF!
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Fri 30 Jul 2010 - 8:42

All
Been some time since I updated here and it is my mission to try and fix that! Been terrain building and mini painting and have neglected the thread here.

What I have below is the start of a full blown epic story that formed, believe it or not, form folks having read my other stuff and pressing me for details about Gentleman James. Push came to shove and I started writing some about him, though I never intended him to be a major interest. What happened once I started has led me down dark paths on a long journey which I am putting into words now.

I am hoping you all like the work and would please offer up any ideas, suggestions, critisisms, etc so that I can hone the story. reading it now before I post, I can see things I want to change already and I need to add a FORWARD, which I am working on now. Hope you like it and dont die of shock Von Kurst when I do FINALLY post some new updates. I know the shock might kill ya! Note that this story is not a part of the Grudge of Sheer Quest, merely an offshoot of one of the characters that were part of the storyboards.



Dark Voyage

Quote :
The evening air had a tang about it; the salty smell wafting up from the docks to caress the olfactory edifices of the patrons of the Rusty Scupper. Nestled among the warehouses, grain silos and fish mongering stalls, the Rusty Scupper played host to a variety of patrons, from sailor to dock worker, dandy and mercenary. Located as it was at the end of Marienburg's enormous shipyards, the Long Walk, the inn was centrally located to turn a tidy profit. A day on the Marienburg docks was thirsty work indeed and the ancient wooden drinking hole was there to help quench that thirst.

The ornate wooden and glass paneled doors of the inn were thrown open to embrace the night air, a slight breeze billowing out the curtains to either side of the doorway. While the autumn night was crisp the inside of the inn was warm and toasty, a log fire burned in the log hearth, the acrid smell of smoke mixing with exotic pipe weed, unwashed bodies, forgotten meals and musty damp clothing. Decorative metal lathorns hung outside the doorway swayed in the slight breeze, casting shadows across the far wall where hung a huge bass relief carving of a whaling boat and its prey. As the lantern light danced across the relief one could almost see movement in the carving, like the arm of the harpooner rising up or the giant grey opening its maw.

On such a cool night, the innkeeper kept the front door open, allowing the stench of humanity to clear from the taproom. As more and more patrons wandered in from out in the gathering dusk, the dull roar of dozens of conversations began to drown out the sounds of clattering tankards and billowing curtains. Soon the numerous conversations began to blend into one long draw out droning, becoming nothing more than meaningless babble that hurt the head to try and decipher.

Skellan stared at the bottom of his tankard, the ale having long since vanished once his coin was gone, and rubbed his aching temples. He had wandered in around noon after de-barking the whaling vessel Myrmida’s Glory, last out of Magritta and warm southern waters. He did not need to be able to hear the words to know the topic of every conversation; it had been the same for weeks now.

War.

Such a simple word, yet carrying such a despairing depth of agony and fear. Blood, death, bloated flies and horror, that’s what war was. No glory, no shining swords, no heroic last stands. Skellan had seen enough of war in his short forty one winters to know he wanted no part of it. His time in the Imperial Army had shown him horrors that would haunt him until his meeting with Morr in his gardens. And as he contemplated that meeting, he patted his greatcoat pocket and his hand came back with a lump of metal. The copper coin danced into his hand and he motioned to the serving girl to bring him another tankard.

Shaking his head ruefully at the drunken sailor, Horeb the innkeeper wiped his thick fingers on his stained apron and continued filling the array of oil lamps on the bar in front of him. As he listened to a group of soldiers at the end of the bar he pondered the coming war. Marienburg was a large gem of acquisition when it came to invading the lands of Sigmar. The reports coming in continued to flow from the far northern outposts of the Empire, from Nordland and beyond. Rumors of a gathering army of the Ruinous Powers. Such rumors were part and parcel nowadays, as the Empire was rocked by internal wars and petty bickering. And when the light of Sigmar dimmed, the forces of Chaos grew in power, able to stretch their arms further from the shadows.

“I say let them come! Trained cattle they are, fat meat for Imperial steel!” blurted one of the soldiers, sporting the blue and green of Nordland.

What was it about the bloody prospect of carnage that reduced good men to the level of animals? Many of the patrons in the taproom this evening he knew. Many were family men, dock workers and fishermen with large families. Good folk all, and here they were talking of death and glory as if killing was second nature. Shaking his head once more, Horeb tried to brush the thoughts from his head. Maybe he was being too morbid. He had been accused of it before. Maybe it was just the ale talking, filling the men’s breast with bravado. Bravado that would leech away in the morning, leaving just a throbbing in their heads. A pain that would remain with them until the ale could once more fill that empty void of courage. Or maybe it was simple all consuming, bladder draining fear.

Horeb found his gaze wandering back to the stranger that had arrived this afternoon. The man had ordered a large meal of fruits and cheese, and had nursed his ales throughout the afternoon, his eyes never wandering away from the front of the inn. It was almost as if he were waiting for someone or something to come in looking for him and he did not want to be found wanting. The man sported a woolen greatcoat that had once been a vibrant blue but had faded over time to a more uniform black, his hair close cropped under his dark sailors cap. An unkempt beard and mustache covered much of his pock-marked face, the skin looking very much like worn parchment, no doubt from the rigors of a life spent at sea. The man appeared to have very little in the way of coin, but had paid for his room in advance and spent several silvers over the course of the afternoon. A large earring glittered from the man’s right ear but other than that one sparkling jewel, he did not look to be a man of means. One might think him a drifter were it not for the steel harpoon that rested against the chair next to the man. A wicked thing it was, the head sporting a ripple effect of four blades, the haft appeared to be made of ivory. Over a dozen notches had been carved into the shaft of the harpoon, testament to the skill the man must have had in hunting the great beasts. The fire from the hearth glittered along the blades, a somber dance that moved along the far wall to the rhythm of the flames.

Skellan could see the inn keeper watching him out of the corner of his eye and he chuckled to himself as he raised the fresh tankard to his lips. Draining a good measure of the dark ale, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth, smacking his lips as he enjoyed the rich grainy flavor. He was surprised and pleased at the same time that during coming specter of war that the inn keeper did not water down his ale to profit from the growing paranoia.

Skellan’s returned his gaze to the doorway as he heard a distant thunder clap from out past Marienburg Sound. The sky there was taking on an ugly color, even as the last rays of the sun were fading from yellow to crimson, bathing the taproom in a deep bloody hue. Lighting could be seen on the horizon, heralding the coming of a gale. The taproom offered Skellan an unobstructed view of the harbor, and he could see the water was rippling as ships began to hobble in their moorings. Flags snapped to attention as the winds increased, unfurled sails filling with wind. He could hear the shouts of various captains, cajoling their crews to stow the silks before they were shredded in the freakish winds.

The inn’s door suddenly broke loose from its frame and slammed hard against the side of the inn, shattering one of the painted glass window panels. Cursing to himself, Horeb ran forward to secure the door as it twisted back and forth in the gale. As he bent to sweep up the shattered glass, Horeb spied a glance through the broken pane and saw the storm rolling in with speed, lightning flashing and the docks shaking under the powerful peals of thunder. The inn began to grow dark as all light faded under the mass of gathering leaden clouds, rain beginning to fall in sheets even as serving girls began to light the oil lamps and place them on the tables. Soon a rosy orange glow filled the taproom as the lamps flickered into life. Horeb jammed a dirty towel into the broken pain in an attempt to keep out the sheets of rain that were lashing the Long Walk, even as more patrons scrambled inside to avoid the storm.

“Mannon’s Beard! Where did yon gale come from? Tis well past the time for such a fierce late season storm” yelled Horeb above the din of thunder.

Clearing his throat, Skellan was the first to answer. “Twould say it’s an omen of sorts. And I do no think it be a good one.”

Several dark skinned men entered the taproom as Horeb returned to his feet. Each man, there were three of them, were decked out in the garb of privateers, loud boisterous colored clothing drenched with rainwater, the bright bandanas covering shaved heads. One of the men bore a series of nautical tattoos, a sailing vessel; a kraken entwined around a treasure chest, a woman with overwhelming assets clutching a bottle of rum. The other two rogues were bare-chested, one wearing a woolen vest, the other sporting a dark sheen of oiled skin. All three men wore sheathed blades and one had a pistol thrust through his wide belt. The men surveyed the room before turning and ushering another patron.

Behind them came a shorter man garbed in the clothing common to Marienburg. Hose, doublet, high buckled shoes and a short cape of oiled leather over a puffy sleeved white shirt with gold buttons completed his look. He walked with purpose up to the bar and addressed the now silent crowd.

“Good people. My name is Tavish and I am here to recruit men of strong back and valor for service aboard the Hannah Boden, setting to sea in less than a fortnight and bound for the rich spice routes of the New World. Captain Boden is paying handsome gold coin for able-bodied seamen, marksmen, harpooners and carpenters willing to serve on The Hannah Boden for an extended voyage.”

Waiting while his words settled in, Tavish ordered a round for his men as Horeb returned to his accustomed place behind the well worn bar. Turning once more to the crowd with a flourish he raised his tankard of ale to the assembled patrons and downed it in a single gulp. Seeing no one in the crowd moving forward to take his offer, he replaced the mug on the bar and turned to Horeb.

“My good man, I shall return tomorrow morning with quill, ink and contracts. I shall need a secluded table where I can conduct business in private with all applicants. I shall also have need of a suite of rooms that I shall pay for in Marienburg script. I shall require that you start a tab for me and my associates, and that you make available both strong drink and buttermilk should I fancy them. Is this all quite clear?

Horeb could only stare back in stunned silence for a moment as the details sunk into his brain. He could hardly believe his good fortune but something was not right about this group of men, as sure as the unnatural gale outside. His first instinct was to tell the dandy where he could put his hard coin but he made the mistake of looking at one of the dark skinned privateers, and found that man smiling back at him with a mouth full of rotten teeth save one made of gold. Horeb gulped and looked back at Tavish.

“All shall be as you require Lord. I shall see the rooms are prepared and ready for your occupancy tomorrow morning. And fresh flowers in every room, complements of the house!”

Reaching into a pocket within his shirt, Tavish drew forth a large pouch and let it drop on the bar, the purse heavy with gold.

“A round for the house barkeep, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched” said Tavish as he and his rogues headed unabated out the door into the growing gale.

The wicks in the lanterns flickered as patron and wench alike tried to cover them so they would not blow out as Travis’s exit let back in the storm. Stunned patrons returned to their conversations, though they were more subdued. Skellan smiled a crooked smile as he turned around in his chair and looked to his harpoon. The firelight still danced off the honed blade and reflected into his eyes. Pulling out a whetstone and oil, Skellan began to slowly sharpen the blade with deliberate stokes. If one were to look closer, it would be hard to determine where the reflected light ended and the smoldering hellfire’s began…


Last edited by Kaptain BlackSquig on Wed 29 Sep 2010 - 12:12; edited 3 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 31 Jul 2010 - 19:21

Welcome Back Intrepid Readers to the Grudge of Sheer Narrative Camapign!


I wont go into all the sorted details for the huge gap in updates other than to say I am all better now and ready to restart the tales of Captain Sheer and his valiant crew! I feel a lot like Frederick Frankenstein with this monster I have created. It has tested me at times, forced me into places I didn’t want to go, fought with me in the shadows and made me work harder. I think it is summed up best…

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Nothing.
Oh, Doctor, I'm sorry.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: No. No. Be of good cheer. If science teaches us anything, it teaches us to accept our failures, as well as our successes, with quiet dignity and grace.
[…starts beating up the creature]
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Son of a b@#$%! Bastard! I'll get you for this! What did you do to me? What did you do to me?
Stop it! Stop that! Stop it! You'll kill him!
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: I don't want to live. I do not want to live.
Igor: Quiet dignity and grace
[…rolls eyes]
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Oh... mama...




Intro to Readers Old & New!
The Grudge of Sheer campaign mates, long rumored lost in the mists of obscurity, has indeed been brought back to life! With a mighty stroke of the keyboard I resurrect this most epic of quests. While this campaign started well over a year ago, there were several speed bumps along the way. The biggest of which was my pitiful PC crashing not once but thrice, taking most of the pics, battle reports and other data with it! Learned valuable lessons here, SAVE onto disc, SAVE onto disc! So with that in mind I have had to go back and reconstruct the lost tidbits, with the help of my players, they of infinite patience. Lest you thing us nigglings, we have not been idle. The campaign is still running strong. Posting is of course behind as I have been using time in between to the campaign days to rework the lost material. And I am close to finishing this which is why I thought it a good time to reopen the thread here and do some updating.

I am going to be using a newer format that I find I like better for writing the reports. It allows me to convey some information to you gentle readers that you would miss unless you were at the table when the campaign is being played. Plus it lets me write in the fashion I am more comfortable with, a relaxed version that will read more like a movie script but still be entertaining for all of us.

In medias res or medias in res ("into the middle of affairs") is a Latin phrase denoting the literary and artistic narrative technique wherein the relation of a story begins either at the mid-point or at the conclusion, rather than at the beginning, establishing setting, character, and conflict via flashbacks and expository conversations relating the pertinent past.
While I wont be rehashing all the material thus far, here is a quick capsule to jumpstart the campaign once more:
The Grudge of Sheer campaign is a narrative adventure encompassing the trials and tribulations of the Dwarf Monitor Captain Sheer Stonefist and his Grudge Cruise against the nefarious Orc Pirate Kaptain BlackSquig. The Orc Pirates are only one of the numerous foes that will provide the opposition for the brave & foolhardy Captain Sheer.

Quote :
"The year is 1492 by the Emperor’s reckoning, and a Tilean merchant-explorer by the name of Marco Colombo has return from his year long voyage of discovery to the land of Lustria. His tales of riches beyond imagining have spread far and wide and reached covetous ears the length and breadth of the Olde World."

"Marco Colombo has risen in fame and fortune in his homeland and now leads a second expedition to Lustria. He intends to open a southern sea route from which his family can monopolize trade with the so-called New World."

"However, covetous rivals have discovered Marko’s plans and are jealous of his achievements. These men now gather to contest his monopoly, and a race to plunder the riches of the New World is in the offing. Across the Olde World, armies are boarding vessels, and navigators are consulting crumbling charts and maps (often of dubious origin and purchased from inebriated old sea dogs). In other lands, some look to the approaching invasion with dread, for they know that the young races were never meant to tread the lands of the Old Ones. All the while, the denizens of the jungle stir their defenses, for they sense a new era dawning- a time of invasion and desecration- but they will not sit idly by and see the work of millennia cast down and ruined…"

Background for the Grudge of Sheer:
Quote :
The Captain is utterly consumed with his desire to fulfill his grudge against the Orc Pirate BlackSquig, who was responsible for the death of Laird Admiral Snorri Hammerhand. Sheer, the only surviving crewman, never speaks of the details of the sinking of his Ironclad or his failure to defend Hammerhand. It is assumed that is where he lost his eye and it is known that that is where his burning hatred for the Orc Karibbean Pirates was born. Captain Sheer nurses his seething rage like a fine vintage, unusual even for Dwarfs, a grudge of revenge that burns hotly in his belly. He was certain that the object of his wrath had fled across the World Pond somewhere towards the dark shores of Lustria and woe is to all who would stand between the furious Captain and the fulfillment of his quest. It is sometimes whispered among the crew that the hatred that lives behind the Captain's eyes boarders on madness . . . and it was madness that drove him to push his vessel, the Heart of Stone, through a powerful hurricane in pursuit of the fleeing Orc privateers. Damage to the Heart of Stone was extensive and by the time the shores of Lustria were visible through spyglass, the proud vessel could merely limp towards land. The greenskin fleet had not fared little better. Several of their ships had foundered during the storm and sank, while the remaining seven had reached Lustria as derelicts, leaving their crews little choice but to make landfall on the jungle choked shores of the savage land of the Old Ones. BlackSquig had a single motivation in reaching Lustria and that was to find the legendary Font of Youth, tto find the magical fountain and sip of its immortality, ensuring that Olde World would never be free of his plundering and would sail the seas forever…

And there you have it. The adventure continues….


Last edited by Kaptain BlackSquig on Mon 2 Aug 2010 - 6:54; edited 5 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 31 Jul 2010 - 19:25

Quote :
“The more I learned of the gods of the lizard people, the more my head spun with incredulity. Their pantheon was nigh indecipherable to me and appeared to include one whose place is to exist outside said order and to be worshipped by no “True Children of the Gods”. A being that supposedly supped on the very blood of civilizations and could outlast even time itself, a font of everlasting violence that could know no peace if you will. Yet it is also written that this outsider shall be tended unto the end of time by “Those Who Came Before.” Was this being one of the Old Gods, or was it a mortal cursed by them for some past wrong?”

“The answer would only come after many long months of research among the lizard people, and even then I would be led to question everything I had come to believe. It moves unseen, as silently as death. It always watches-the paths of the jungles, the ruins of the Old Ones. It is always hungry, with a hunger too violent, too unspeakable to remain satisfied. And it is always waiting. Behind the dense growth of the rain forest. On the banks of the darkest streams and rivers, where it rules the land of the living and the dead. It dwells in a place the lizard people refer to as Chilpancingo, the place of endless Darkness. Believe me when I write this that I am quite sane, though the things I have seen might lead one to lose ones mind, I still retain my mental faculties”

“After the long months laboring under the swelter heat of Lustria, I had never thought to come this far. The months of trekking in search of the Lost City of Zinge, as the savage Norsemen called it, weighed heavily on our expedition, sickness, monsters and the jungle itself rising up to stop us. One by one my men perished that the rest of us might continue upriver to our doom. The perils of the natural life in the jungles have been one thing, but far more dangerous, far more tiring have been the perils of unnatural life, the deadly lifeless things that keep approaching, with no regard for their own safety.”

“Once the daylight seemed to stop them, at least when the faint rays of sunlight shattered the thick jungle canopy; I did not readily see them among the ruins of Zinge. But now…now as I come closer and closer to the unhallowed place where it has waited for centuries, the monsters have redoubled their fierce and relentless pursuit. It was folly to seek the Font but the lure of immortality pulled strong on my pride, thoughts of unlimited time to collect, catalog and study every aspect of nature outweighing simple caution.”

“And so now I must continue, even into this great heart of evil. I hope that some day this journal may be found. But I cannot imagine a future at this point, my Skink guide has perished and I alone remain, they gather even now beyond the light of my fire. I have but one shot left in my pistol and it waits for me to take my own life, lest I join the ranks of Those That Came Before…these be my final words. Merciful Myrmidia, please carry me home to my beloved Estalia…”


…Prelude to Chapter Seven, “In the Lands of Gods”
Final journal of Estalian naturalist Juan Mendoza on the New World

Sheer stared once more at the faded parchment before him, the edges of the page wrinkled with age and water damage. How long the journal had been here among the jungle growth, even his aged advisor Anton could not say. Humans felt the need to fragile means to record their thoughts and so they became fragile as well, vast wealth of knowledge lost down through the centuries when if only they had used stone.

A large blood gorged mosquito chose that moment to buzz by the Captain’s nose and paid the price as Sheer lashed out with a gnarled hand and smashed it hard into his other hand. Drops of blood ran through gaps in his fingers as he wiped his messy hand on the back of the parchment.

“At least it’s good for something, eh Anton?” grinned Sheer, his annoyance at marauding insect temporarily sated.

“That it be Captain, shame we don’t have a few thousand more. These damned marsh mosquitoes will be the death of us yet, and that’s a fact.”



As the party of Dwarves moved further into the depths of the rain forest they were forced to stop and clear a path every few yards as the tangled mass of vegetation fought to keep them penned in, as if the jungle was aware of their presence and was revolting against them.

For over three months now, the crew of the Heart of Stone had pursued their quarry, through jungle, ravine, ruin and river. The first few weeks had been spent in cautious exploration of the jungle and combat with a tribe of Night Goblins that dwelt in the snake infested caverns under Lustria. It had been some time since they had seen the Night Goblins and had little idea where to start searching for the Orc Pirate BlackSquig.

A journey up the coast to the Northmen outpost of Skeggi had borne fruit. Not only had the crew been able to slake their thirst on strong Northman ales but the Captain had been able to speak at length to their savage Shaman, regarding the Font of Youth and more.



Rumors of the dwelling place of the Font, crude maps and the need for something the natives called the “Eye of Sotek” were all collected by the Dwarves, at the cost of large amounts of gold. The Miners in the warband were visibly angry at the amount of gold the old Shaman had demanded in return for parting with this information but a stern gaze from Sheer made them grudgingly hand it over. The Shaman assured them that the “Mouth of Sotek” was needed to find the Lost City of Zinge, resting place of the Font of Youth.



And so the Dwarves, now armed with fully replenished provisions, full barrels of ale and a handful of ancient rumors and maps, sailed south once more, turning west from the coast into a dark tributary know simply as the Serpents Tongue. Their maps showed them that upriver was an expanse of Lizardmen ruins, where it was said that the Mouth of Sotek could be found. The Orcs needed this bauble, whatever it was, and would have to come in search of it at some point. And the Heart of Stone would be waiting…


And the adventure continues...
(New Battle reports in October!)


Last edited by Kaptain BlackSquig on Wed 29 Sep 2010 - 12:17; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sun 1 Aug 2010 - 22:01



Prelude: The Coming Storm

The sound of distant thunder reverberated across the iron deck of the Heart of Stone. Bobbing in the greenish, muddy waters that passed by the ship at speed, the stout Dwarven Ironclad began to fight against her mooring ropes. The evening sun had begun its descent in the sky, the air starting to cool even as the warm metal decks groaned under the cooling conditions. The Heart was presently moored on this small island in the middle of a mile wide tributary of the Serpent’s Tongue, a makeshift dock having been erected so the crew could forage inland for supplies to repair the ship. While the Norsemen of Skeggi had happily volunteered the use of the their shipyards, the Dwarves had decided that discretion was the better part of common sense, and not fully trusting the humans, they had left the repairs to be done once underway.

Quarter Master Murdok walked up onto the deck from below, the moisture heavy air immediately drawing his already damp clothes tighter to his rotund frame. The usually noisy rainforest had grown suddenly silent and the lookouts had sighted distant lightning on the horizon to the north. The tall jungle ferns and cattails began to bend in the growing breeze, the water rippling with movement as the shoals of crocodiles sensed the coming storm and swam back to their thickets and underwater lairs.

Drawing a gnarled hand across his sweating brow, Murdok turned his gaze to the north, where the landing party had gone on shore hours ago. Sure enough the sky there was a sinister black, with sporadic bolts of lighting streaking across the sky before striking the ground. Peals of thunder once again rumbled across the jungle canopy, scattering flights of brightly colored birds & bats into the darkening skies. A ping sounded next to Murdok, followed by another and then another as the thick rain drops began to fall from the heavens. The air was so charged with electricity that the hairs on Murdok’s beard stood straight and away from his face, bristling with barely contained charge. Blasts of energy unlike any he had seen in his 250 odd years ripped across the horizon dark horizon, forcing him to look away.



Cursing silently to himself, Murdok raced back to the main hatch and descended, pulling the massive iron disc closed after him. A twist of the wheel sealed the hatch shut even as the rain began to fall in torrents, drenching the Heart of Stone in sheets of rain that sizzled as they struck the rapidly cooling deck.

“Gonna be a rough one dis night lads! Yon storm is a bad one, The Capatan be in for a rough one, he is.”

Some of the Beardlings smiled at one another. Leave it to Murdok. His grip on the Dwarven tongue was as frayed as his beard! Captain Sheer always bristled when Murdok referred to him as Capatan, a sight that was not lost of the Longbeard and he always made it a point to call Sheer Capatan whenever he was left in charge. The Beardlings returned to their work as Murdok stalked past, the sound of hammers replacing the sound of the pounding rain. Soon the interior of the vessel began to fill with the smells of frying onions and livers, many of the Dwarves smacking their lips in anticipation of the coming meal.

Outside, even as the rain continued to pour down and clouds turned blacker, hate-filled eyes stared at the Heart of Stone from the cover of the reed beds. Hungry eyes….


...and the adventure continues
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 2 Aug 2010 - 6:27

Anyone who LOVES Young Frankenstein is okay in my books.
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Mon 2 Aug 2010 - 15:58

Me heart! Oh that was close. Good thing you warned me earlier. Keep up the good work and have a pint on me mate!
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 29 Jan 2011 - 12:34

Week Eight: Prelude to Twilight



The path before Sheer began to narrow, the tangle of undergrowth so twisted on either side that the Dwarves were forced to march single file. The path had seen heavy use in previous centuries but now the jungle had grown back to cover the trail in greenery once more. Occasional beams of sickly yellow sunlight pierced the thick jungle canopy, serving little benefit save to raise the level of humid air that clung to beards & body. And more endless chopping!

Every day, an endless procession of slow walking, hacking aside centuries of old growth vines and branches and dodging blood loss from bloated marsh flies! The small party of Dwarves was nothing if not relentless and thus they went about the routine with usual stoic silence. Captain Sheer paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and drew forth a flask of water from his belt. Draining a large pull, he motioned to the rest of the party to take a short break. Several of the Beardlings moved past Sheer and into the thick brush, scouting ahead while the rest of the Dwarves found restful purchase on the moist ground.

Brailling, a stripling no older than 40 winters, moved off to the right of the party, crawling close to the ground when needed, avoiding thickets, bloodvines and strangle fronds as he moved as silent as his greased mail would allow. Up ahead, great rays of tropical sun pierced the ground through the overhead canopy. As he approached the light, it became apparent to the Dwarf that some form of a clearing was up ahead. Crouching in the heavy brush of the treeline, Brailling was faced by a 25 foot tall stone pillar, ancient carving covering the side that faced the young Dwarf. The ground around the pillar was bare, the withered remains of jungle plants scattered around the base. Even as he moved to his left for a better view of the pillar, the sunlight disappeared from above as thick heavy clouds rolled in from the west. Beyond the pillar was an ancient stone archway-some sort of gate-way to the continuing trail west.

Soon a light rain began to fall, the braches becoming drains for the cold water falling from above. Tiny rivulets ran down the massive fronds of the jungle plants, soon turning into floods as a downpour started. Even as distant thunder began to shake the clearing, Brailling was still transfixed by the pillar. A series of carvings went up the front face of the rock, crude renditions of skulls running to the top where a great bat-like creature lay draped in thick vines and moss. The demonic visage on the creature seemed almost alive in the flashing of lightning that heralded the storm, a shudder of fear rippling through the Beardlings breast as he drew his axe from his belt.



The rain fell in sheets now, the rumbling of thunder drowned out by the drone of falling water and rustling of the jungle as the winds whipped the trees into a chorus of swaying and bending, almost like the jerking movements of a novice puppeteer. Shouting to his fellows, Brailling received no answer, his voice muffled under the pounding storm. Beyond the treeline, several figures approached from the jungle beyond the archway, tall figures that staggered to move under the relentless winds, swaying like boats caught in a storm. That was when the stench hit the Beardling. An overpowering stench that clung to the air of the clearing, despite the swirling winds. A smell that the young Dwarf had learned all too well. The sickening rotten smell of death!

Brailling breathed a sigh of relief when he felt his companions hand upon his shoulder, the sudden presence of his companion bolstering his failing courage.

“Bout time ye bastard. I been callin fer ye. What do you make of yonder figures, be they enemy?”

His companion did not answer him, instead increasing the pressure of his hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder until it dug into the padding of his armor. Spinning around, Brailling was confronted by a monster, an abomination that had once been Frelix, his childhood friend. No eyes remained in the skull of the Dwarf, merely empty sockets filled with fresh viscera. Strips of flesh dangled on one check, fluttering sickly in the wind. Pieces of his armor still clung to the batter framed of the Beardling, pools of blood collected in nooks and crannies, even as the tattered blood drenched remains of his undercoat clung limply to his ragged shoulders. Brailling barely had a chance to scream as his once friend ripped his tongue from his mouth, falling upon the Beardling in a savage flurry of cracked teeth. The rain continued its downpour unabated, the fresh blood mixing with the muddy, moss-covered ground of the clearing. Very soon two new Dwarven Zombies lurched forth from the undergrowth, joining the rest of the nightmarish horde staggering down the trail towards an unsuspecting Captain Sheer…


PS: That thud you just heard was Von Kurst. Better call an ambulance!
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 29 Jan 2011 - 14:02

Tis a good thing I was sittin' down, no thanks to you! A warning shot is customary. lol!
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 29 Jan 2011 - 14:17

It's been awhile.; so to refresh my memory, such as it is, I went back & read the whole thing...a tough job, but someone had to do it. Suspect COOL STUFF! thumbsup
I'm glad to hear Von Kurst survived the experience. What a Face
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 29 Jan 2011 - 15:10

Von Kurst wrote:
Tis a good thing I was sittin' down, no thanks to you! A warning shot is customary. lol!

OK, consider that your warning shot. Incoming reports & pics matey! Sir, yes sir!

Da Kaptain
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 29 Jan 2011 - 15:10

The Cast: Grudge of Sheer

All
Been some time since I did an update here and I wanted to go ahead and do some group photos of the main Warbands we have been using. Bear in mind some of these are from homegrown lists! Having said that, here we have the characters as they were first portrayed in Lustria:

Captain Sheer and his band of Dwarven Grudgebearers


We have, from left to right: the Dragon Belch Thunderers, Gort the Slayer, Yardarm the Long Gunners, Gringrok the Oldbeard, Captain Sheer, Eugan the Oldbeard, Engineer Krump and the Stone Guard Beardlings.










Quartermaster Murdok and the crew of the Heart of Stone


We have, from left to right: Stone Guard Beardlings, Doc Thrud the Ship’s Surgeon, Chief Engineer Krank, Quartermaster Murdok, Skrager the Slayer Pirate, Kooky the Ogre Chef and the IronGuard Greybeard Marines.











The DeffKap Night Goblin Horde!


We have, from left to right: Da Ded Eye Stikkaz, Snarf da Loon, Boss Spaznatz & Muncha the Cave Squig, Goregut Eadchoppa, Dreg Dreg the Shaman & Wizzbangz da Faceeatta Squig, Fowlhaunches da Mean and da Deffheadz Stabbaz.













And the adventure continues…
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Sat 29 Jan 2011 - 19:51

A FINE looking Cast of Characters! I love the way you place the minis in their natural surroundings...a nice cinematic touch. The Goblin Shaman with his Squig Hound perched on the tree stump & the Dwarf raising his stein in the Jungle are my two favorite. COOL STUFF! thumbsup
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PostSubject: Re: The Grudge of Sheer   Today at 19:42

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