Relics of the Crusade Battle Report

This is from some friends of mine playing Relics of the Crusade.

http://forums.fireteamnova.com/viewtopic.php?f=15&t=106

Cool. Thanks for sharing!

It neat that people take time to do this just like Warboss and his group of the UK.

This is another thing that makes Mordheim great is that you can create your own "theme" on why things are happening. Story book perspective.

COOL BATTLE REPORT!

I agree MOST HARDILY the Fluff makes the Game. A narrative, especially one graced with photos of the action, transforms the Game from a forgettable evening with the gang into a cinematic event that lives on in one's memory, AND can be revisited like an old friend.

Da Bank wrote:

http://forums.fireteamnova.com/viewforum.php?f=14

Merged with the existing RotC campaign thread.
- cianty

And where is the existing RotC campaign thread? Link?

I've been stumbling around this forum trying to find it... I suppose I could do a search...

DaBank thanks for posting a link to the local forum. I was going to start a thread and then I saw yours.
Small world on the net...
js

Von Kurst wrote:

Da Bank wrote:

http://forums.fireteamnova.com/viewforum.php?f=14

Merged with the existing RotC campaign thread.
- cianty

And where is the existing RotC campaign thread? Link?

You have just posted in it. If you find a post with a note saying "merged with another thread" then you are in that other thread.

I even linked to this thread in the original RoC thread.

cianty wrote:

You have just posted in it. If you find a post with a note saying "merged with another thread" then you are in that other thread.

I even linked to this thread in the original RoC thread.

Very clever! Its taking me awhile to figure this particular forum out. Me and my Mac are old and slow.

I think I've posted in every R0tC thread now. I feel like a tourist in New York! So much to see.

js

Von Kurst wrote:

cianty wrote:

You have just posted in it. If you find a post with a note saying "merged with another thread" then you are in that other thread.

I even linked to this thread in the original RoC thread.

Very clever! Its taking me awhile to figure this particular forum out. Me and my Mac are old and slow.

Ha ha, no problem at all! Take all the time you need.

Von Kurst wrote:

I think I've posted in every R0tC thread now. I feel like a tourist in New York! So much to see.

js

I see. I can imagine it being a little overwhelming for starters..

Well excellent writing

[I decided to post this here directly rather than post links. ]

Shufti Claims a Relic
A Tale of Battle wherein Sheikh Shufti and his Dogs Enter the Monster’s Lair

Prince Khirim Shah had eluded them, but Shufti’s discussions with the Heretic before the Ghutani ransomed him had been most educational.  The man was deluded. This much was obvious, he was a Ghutani afterall, but he was also vain and boastful.  He told Shufti more than he realized.  The Ghutani sought an artifact of great power.  This artifact had been crafted by a martyred cleric of the One to control the ancient spirits of the desert. Somehow the ring had become part of a hippogriff’s horde.  The Heretic said Khirim Shah had claimed to know the exact location of its lair, but the Ghutani had not really needed him to find it.

The Heretic did not explain how this came to be and Shufti did not press him.  Monsters were becoming more common in these perilous days, but for all that they were still quite rare.  The Children of the Desert knew the general location of the lairs of every one.  Only one hippogriff was known to haunt the Plain and its range was only a day’s ride from the dry wells of the Oasis of the Sad Monkey.  They had ended their wild flight here, miles from where they should be.  Amra had never failed him before, but that last crazy, Ghutani charge from the darkness had shaken them all.  They would live, the Ghutani had seen to that by promising water as well as gold for the release of the Heretic.  It was maddening to let the blasphemer go, but the One would see to him.  And the Blessed One willing, Shufti would yet be the embodiment of His justice.

Even before he could see the lair Shufti knew that the others had found it as well.  Amra had informed him that both the Ghutani and the Slavers were close by as they camped last night.  It disturbed him that the Slavers seemed to have acquired a competent scout, too, but Shufti hoped that His Highness was still with them.  As the Dogs approached the lair from the east Shufti knew the Ghutani were somewhere in front of him to the west.  He could see the Slaver’s skirmish line to the north—another Ogre!  Damn Kherhi Shah and his wealth!  Hippogriffs! Ogres!  Ah well, it did not serve the One to stay at home and die in bed.

Al Bobo had remained with the camp guards and most of the horses.  Shufti rode Dancing Cloud and Ali rode the Great Heart.  The rest of the band jogged through the boulder strewn plain toward the canyon maze that hid the lair.  As they neared the mouth of the closest canyon an angry squawk sounded from its depths.  The Ghutani had found the monster, or it had found them!

The Dogs spread out but angled mostly toward the north and the approaching Slavers.  Shufti couldn’t see what was happening along the entire Slaver line but the man-sellers seemed to flinch away from the west.  The Dogs met them with a flurry of arrows and crossbow bolts.  One ragged warrior went down. Shufti figured that the hit wasn’t lethal. The slave was just shirking.

A cry went up from the north as the slavers rushed the boulders and cliffs of the canyon in front of them.  One ogre moved toward the Dogs supported by a snarling hound.  The man who had gone down dragged himself behind a large boulder and disappeared from view.
A deeper and angrier screech sounded from the depths of the canyon.  Wails, battle cries and the joyous roar of an unseen ogre answered it.  Whatever lurked in the canyon’s depths, it was now fighting the Slavers.  Soon Ghutani war cries could be heard as well.  Shufti signaled his men to reform to the south.  As one man the Dogs fell back before the enraged ogre and sought cover amid the scattered boulders.

Shufti and Ali galloped along a relatively flat plain south of the canyons. Suddenly a Ghutani on a nearby jebel sprang up and sent an arrow at Shufti.  The missile barely missed his head. His return shot took the woman square.  Her corpse fell out of sight amid the rocks.  Ali rounded a large rock spire and looked along the western edge of the canyon maze.  He could see several Ghutani archers who seemed to be surprised by his sudden appearance.  One rose from checking the body of the dead archer and sent an arrow at him.  Her shouts drew the focus of the other archers who followed her example.

As Shufti and Ali rode toward the west Aman and Amra clambered up the cliffs of the canyon maze.  When they reached the top they beheld a battle royal in the northern gullies of the maze.  A huge hippogriff was surrounded by a swarm of Slavers that cut and stabbed at the wounded beast even as it screamed defiance in their faces.  Beyond the fight with the monster a tightening ring of Ghutani amazons was cutting down other Slavers on the northern plain.  Aman recognized the Askari Sasha.  She was joyously riding down ragged slaves, but as she neared her next victim Aman realized the hunter was about to become the hunted.  A huge scorpion reared out of a canyon near the Ghutani rider. A final wail went up from the surviving slaves and the Slavers warband fled headlong into the desert.

The arrows missed Ali or snagged harmlessly in his robes.  He urged the Great Heart straight at the nearest archer and cut her down as she struggled to draw her sword.  As she fell away more arrows sought Ali. He wheeled his steed around to face his tormenters only to discover his robes on fire.  Unable to do anything but swat ineffectively at the flames, Ali allowed the Great Heart to carry him away from his enemies back to the south.

Aman watched as Sasha checked her pursuit of the Slavers and drove her steed toward the approaching scorpion.  Her terrified horse shied and her sword smote empty air.  The monster struck her viciously with its venomed tail.  Sasha swayed in the saddle but fought on.  The Ghutani could not pursue the fleeing Slavers as Sasha fought the scorpion and the Mad Saint was attacked by the enraged hippogriff.  The Saint struggled with the hippogriff and more Ghutani rushed to fight both monsters.  The giant creatures fought on briefly but the experienced Ghutani slayers felled them both.

Shufti guided Cloud Dancer into the twisted canyons.  As he rounded a rocky curve he spied a Ghutani horse archer urging her horse towards an intersecting gully.  Shufti lifted his crossbow and snapped a shot.  The Ghutani and her horse crashed to the rocky bed of the gully out of sight.  On the cliffs above him Aman and Amra sent arrows seeking the Ghutani that had just killed the hippogriff.  Abu and his fellow tribesman rushed through the boulders toward Shufti.  Ibn Masuf moved up behind Aman and Amra to keep them healthy should any return fire find its mark. The Crimashin moved to cover Shufti’s flank from the west.

The Ghutani sought cover.  All except the devout tribeswomen who called themselves Hand Maidens of the Saint.  They rushed past the fallen horse and rider and made a desperate charge toward Shufti and Abu.  The Dogs recognized the charge as a diversion.  Grimly they saluted the women’s bravery as they closed.  When they had cleared the last cover the Dogs let loose a volley that left none of the women warriors standing.

Silence ruled the field.  Vultures circled.  Grim warriors searched the canyons and found only the dead.  The dead and treasure.  The Slavers and the Ghutani had destroyed the monsters but yielded the field to the largely un-fought Dogs.  Shufti led a brief search for the hippogriff’s lair.  Within the Dogs found a large cache of gold, gems, weapons and armor.  But as the men searched Shufti walked to the body of the hippogriff.  He had known its master in happier days.  During the relief of Martek, the Bretonnian lord had named it Orchawk.  Shufti had wondered then about the golden links of the chain around its neck.  The Lord of Bretonnia was no more. Slain with his knights and men-at-arms on the Plain in the final days.  The badly wounded Orchawk had kept the victors at bay.  Everyone in the old army had heard the story. But no one had connected the heroic Orchawk with this mangled terror.  The old wounds it bore told Shufti why it had haunted the plain.  Unable to fly and one of its claws hacked half away, it had hunted the old battlefield and nearby oasis for men, who until today were easy prey.

Shufti cut the soft golden links and removed the smallest one.  The One was just and wise indeed to guide His unworthy servant here to find the Ring of the Djinn!

The Ancient Battlefield
A Tale of Battle wherein Sheikh Shufti and his Dogs Defeat the Undead

The night was cool and clear. The Twin Moons shown bright, though the foul Morsleib hung lower on the horizon. The Plains of Haytin were a haunted place in the bright light of day. Now deep into the night every rock was a ghoul or goblin and the grim monuments of the Priest Kings became Djinn in the minds of the Dogs. Shufti rode Cloud Dancer as usual, Ali trotted to his left on the Great Heart. The Plains were made for cavalry, but Shufti had bade the men leave the rest of the horses and camels at the camp under guard on this ill starred night.

Ibn Masuf and the Hermit of Mezdab had woken Shufti from a deep but troubled sleep. “Someone calls the Dark! The One needs us to thwart them! Lead us, my Shiekh.” They had camped on the edge of the great killing field, near the tomb of the Saint of Haytin. But the Saint’s resting place was said to lie on top of older, fouler graves. Shufti had roused the camp and moved toward the simple mound that marked the Saint’s earthly rest.

As he rode Shufti could hear strange voices on the wind. It seemed one stentorian voice called in a language Shufti could not identify. He sensed the tone of command though, and on the wind he could almost hear hundreds of voices answer as from far away. He felt surrounded although no one stirred on the plain that he could see.

No one stirred, except those two warriors that stepped suddenly from the shadowed arch of the monument to his right. A pale glowing swordsman followed by an ivory bowman marched before him now. Dreadfully thin pale things they were, almost sticks. “Enemy to the right!” Shufti bellowed as he spurred Cloud Dancer toward the mound. In the darkness at its foot Aman was already battling another swordsman. Several darts flew from the line of men, but Shufti knew it was his shot that crumpled both of the enemy. Even shooting behind and to his right over Cloud Dancer’s withers, he knew his bolt would hit true. He must of hit a rib or something, because as the swordsman started to fall the archer’s head snapped off its shoulders. The Dogs all held their breath as the archer’s bones clattered to the desert floor.

“Aieeee! The dead bones walk!” screamed Abu the Monkey Man. Ibn Masuf began a prayer. A faint scream sounded from the west as someone human died. Aman smashed the skeleton from the mound to pieces with his sword. Shufti turned his attention to the west as another line of warriors emerged from the gloom beyond the grave mound. Two were huge! Ogres!

“Slavers in front of us!” The line of men and ogres advanced toward the mound as well. From the south Shufti could hear battle cries, growls and whines. Hounds and men fought something in a grove of palms.

“The Dead come from the left! ‘ware!” Amra cried out has he and the Crimashin stood against a charge by a squad of skeleton spearmen.

“It rises again! The bones do not rest!” Abu howled into the night as the swordsman regained its feet and shuffled toward him. Ali mouthed a curse and spun the Great Heart around to cut the dead warrior off.

Shufti guided Cloud Dancer back slowly as the Slavers came on. He sent a bolt into the nearest ogre, but the huge monster merely plucked it out of his hide and bellowed an obscenity. Even as the ogre boasted of what it would do with Shufti and his horse, two skeleton swordsmen rushed from the shadow of the mound and began hacking at Shufti.

Amra and the assassin struggled with even more spearmen. Ali succeeded in destroying the skeleton he fought. Aman rushed to Shufti’s aide even as a rusty sword opened a cut on Shufti’s left thigh. Grimly the men destroyed their unnatural foes bone by bone.

As he fought against the numbing pain in his leg, Shufti took in the field. The main group of Slavers had circled to his right and disappeared behind the mound. One ragged slave advanced slowly toward him, herded by a slavering hound. Shufti dismissed them as a threat. The Dogs were grouped in a loose circle near the mound. They had not moved far since the appearance of the first skeletons, but aside from his wound all his warriors were standing to with weapons ready.

The Dead attacked again. As before the main group attacked Shufti. Cloud Dancer reared and kicked, Shufti cut down at the mass of blades lifted against him. Even as he fought Shufti heard the foul voice shift and the clear sky went black with clouds. “To me Dogs! Rally to me!” Shufti called into the gloom. Despite the darkness, Shufti felt new strength flowing into him. His leg ceased to throb. He could hear other strong voices chanting counter to the evil one. Another skeleton crumbled as his sword found it’s neck.

As quickly as it had come the darkness lifted and Manslieb shined upon them. Not as brightly as before, but bright enough to reveal the ogres scant yards away and behind them armed warriors in the gloom. Ali spurred the Great Heart straight for the nearest monster. Aman the Ogre Slayer, who had destroyed several skeletons this night, froze before the toothy visage that waved him welcome with some one’s thighbone. Aman’s failure brought scant notice from the Dogs. They formed a line beside him with both Ibn Masuf and the Hermit chanting prayers. Two shafts appeared in the unengaged ogre’s chest. It dropped the thighbone and clutched at the new growths below its chin. Ibn Masuf and all around him were bathed in glowing light. Even the dead fell back momentarily.

Ali rode straight into the ogre. With ample light he easily beat down its wild parry and stretched it senseless on the rocky ground. The Great Heart wheeled with hooves flashing to face the remaining Slavers. Who all fled as one screaming mob into the night.

The dead attacked headlong charges and measured marches. Ali overthrew an ancient rider in single combat. The Crimashin fell mortally wounded beneath another Hellrider’s steed. But Ibn Masuf and the Hermit defeated the dead with prayer and light. Shufti was sore hurt by evil sorcery and again healed by prayer. The horrible line crumbled and the foul servant of evil was destroyed before he could further desecrate the Saint’s tomb.

In the morning the Dogs buried their fallen mercenary among the ancient martyrs. Then they rode towards the sea. The Slavers had fled toward the coastal cities. If the Prince was still with them, Shufti needed to see that His Highness did not return to the Court. Besides the Dogs were laden with wealth and had need of reinforcements…

Da Bank,

Pretty bad that I have to read your posting from Florida about a campaign being played 20 minutes from my house! Hahaha I did drop by and was going to join up once the group got out of the desert and into a new campaign with my Boyz. But the economy has cost me my job and so I really have no idea when I be able to get game.

Tomo
"Mr. Ree"

Tomo

Hey!

Whevener I had a chance and I could post Jim's game notes I would.

Sorry to hear about the job. The economy is going down fast.

Da Bank,

Thanks for the concern Bank... Jim L. is in a similar situation too, but he's has options not available to me.

Back to the campaign though Shoe and Jim L. continue to produce the most wonderful scenery. If I can manage to visit their game I'll snap some photos and post them here for all to share.

Later,

Tomo
Mr. Ree

Jim L had been working for the same company for a long time...that is a bummer.


Yea, JimL and Shoey make some awesome terrain together.

Take some pics that would be cool.

I am sure everyone else around the world would love to see pics of the game.

Dudes, I'm right here!

Sigh.

Hey Tomo,
Sorry about the job. I hope something works out soon.

The Relics campaign will be put to rest with a rousing final battle in 2 weeks
(depending on people's schedules.)

On February 26th Sartosa, the Pirate Isle campaign will begin.   So
check out the Sartosa web site--

http://sites.google.com/site/styroheim/sartosa

I have tons of pirates, but I am planning on sticking with the
Arabyans since its been 8 years and I only have 4 painted models...
Gutar Beg and the crew of the Gazelle of the Seas are seeking infidel
hulks to plunder...

js

Hello Shoe!

The 26th huh? Pirates too?? Arrgh, guess I should be gettin' me swabs ready...
All I need to do is have Adm'rul Kurgan Grimjaw send me his boyz...

Tomo

Von...you still only have 4 Araby painted. LOL.

That's ok as you make some sweet terrain.

Bank,

Yeah, maybe he has only painted 4 Araby, but knowing him he's probably 400 of something else!!

Tomo

Warhammer Empire!

Compared to my one and a half miniatures painted since 1999!! In my defense I have assembled and base coated several others... he hee... and the boyz will tell ya it's true I have only a Gray Horde.

Bodyguards
A Tale of Battle wherein Sheikh Shufti and his Dogs Settle Old Scores

The day was hot and still. Yet even here in the slums of Tyrius, the unwashed masses of Araby thronged. Shufti delegated Al Bobo and Amra to clear the beggars out of the ruined hovels. They went about their task with gusto, not needing to be silent since the din of the crowds would drown out the death throes of an elephant. “Make way for the servants of Tariq of Lashiek! Away with you or face our steel!”

Shufti was a wanted man in Tyrius, but he walked through the ruined tenements with a loaded crossbow in his hands, surrounded by sworn henchmen. The merchants of the infidel Empire could post their bans, no native of Araby would betray him to the occupiers. No native who wanted to live to see another sun.

The Ghutani and their guest were holed up in a large roofless old building across the street. Shufti still wasn’t sure if the Prince was the Ghutani’s ally or prisoner. It mattered little. Today was Khirim Shah’s last day, so the Dogs had sworn, so it would be. Shufti had contacted the Slave Merchant once he found both the Ghutani and the Prince together again in this unlikely place. The Slaver had expected great things of being allied with a Prince of the ruling house. Since he had discovered that Tariq had banished his cousin, the Slaver realized that Khirim Shah was not going to pay for the goods the Slaver had delivered. Nor was the Prince going to replace the guards killed defending him. Shufti promised great rewards from Tariq if the Slavers could produce Khirim Shah’s head. The promises were not strictly true, but the Slaver could not know that.

Shufti did not trust his ally, nor did he expect to be trusted in return. If the slaver rabble could hold the Ghutani’s interest for even a small period of time, Shufti was confident it would be enough.

Shufti reached his goal-an intact section of the old city wall. The ruins he had just traversed must have been barracks long ago. Now they were merely foundations with crumbling walls. From here he could see the shadowy forms of the Ghutani sentries in the building across the way. They looked out over the same crowd Shufti did, but Shufti wondered if they guessed the import of the slow advance of Aman and Ali and the rest of the Dogs through the crowd. He knew they did not recognize the threat from a lone beggar approaching from the east. The Crimashin blended perfectly with the slum dwellers of Tyrius.

An angry bellow from the south reminded Shufti that ogres didn’t blend well anywhere. The greedy crowds were suddenly moving in all directions except south. Screams and more loud roars brought a long sigh from the Shiekh of the Turjuk. Shufti helped Al Bobo up onto the battlements. But the rope he dropped broke the moment Shufti put his weight on it. Shufti glared at his mamluks and turned his attention to the nearby arrow slit. Arrows and crossbow bolts flashed in every direction. There were more screams from the south. Shufti could no longer see any of the Ghutani sentries.

A familiar voice began to penetrate the fading noise of the crowd. “His Highness DEMANDS that you put down this REBELLION! A proper PALACE must be provided. There is no ROOF! STEWARD! Where is OUR steward? You know, the FAT one?”

Ali and Aman entered the street from the north. Shufti could see them avoiding the main entrance. Instead they moved to the east in front of him as Amra and Al Bobo covered them from the battlements. From the south there were growls, yelps and shrieks. Somewhere a warning bell began tolling. Shufti made a bet with the nearest mamluk that the Watch would never arrive in time.

Shufti surveyed the wall that Al Bobo had climbed a moment ago. If he put his hand there and his foot here, he should be able to reach Al Bobo’s outstretched arm… The ancient wall crumbled to dust beneath his foot and he slid back down into the guardroom. “Why do you dawdle? Flank them!” Shufti sent the remaining mamluk scurrying from the ruins to follow the Crimashin to the roof of the Ghutani’s fortress.

“BRAVO Shasha! Good show! KILL the ogre! Aiiieee! DID you SEE! That rabble SHOT an ARROW! AT HIS HIGHNESS’ PERSON!!!”

Shufti tried to close his ears to the Prince’s commentary. As he had ordered the mumlak from the building he had glimpsed a familiar face peering around a corner to the north. The woman was gone now, but he would swear that she had just been there… Who was she?

The Crimashin had climbed the ruin’s walls. He was lying on his side peering into the shadowed interior below him. He held up 3 fingers and pointed below him. Shufti realized that what had looked like a pile of rubble was really a warrior crouched behind the rubble. He sent a bolt toward the warrior’s head. He was rewarded with startled oaths from within. The Crimashin held up 2 fingers.

A Ghutani archer appeared suddenly on the ruined wall. She quickly shot an arrow into the street below her, then turned her back on the Dogs and drew her sword with a desperate cry. An ogre rushed from the gloom of the ruin’s interior and knocked the woman off her feat. She regained her footing but failed to parry the ogre’s next attack and fell with a final scream. The ogre roared his victory and shouted a challenge to the Dogs below him. Then the huge monster seemed to pause as a horn called amid screams from the south.

“They FLEE! Oh, LOOK at them RUN! CURS! COWARDS! His Highness spits on you! WHAT? Do not SHUSH Our ROYAL PRESENSE!”

Seizing the opportunity the Dogs rushed the northern wall of the ruin. Aman, Ali, Abu, Ibn Masuf and the Hermit all disappeared through the ragged gap Shufti had shot through earlier. Amra and the tribesman Akbar prepared to climb the wall near the fallen Ghutani archer. Shufti finally swung himself up on to the battlements beside Al Bobo.

From the street behind him he heard, “There he is! Sheikh Shufti of the Turjuk! Take him!” Three Imperial guardsmen were jogging towards him urged on by a familiar figure in Ghutani robes. There was no real time to aim, but Shufti had made worse shots. He sent a bolt towards the woman, who screeched a curse and dodged back out of sight. The guardsmen came on.

Across the way Ali’s battle cry mingled with royal screams. A grim woman in gladiator armor pulled herself up onto the narrow parapet and inched toward the Crimashin.

“DUST! His Highness is COVERED in DUST! You clumsy COW! Get DOWN from there! SHUSH! His Highness does not SHUSH!”

Al Bobo sent a bolt at the gladiator who fell stunned on the parapet. The Crimashin rushed toward her and his knife flashed once before the gladiator could recover. Even as the assassin rolled the gladiator’s body back into the room below, he was struck by several missiles himself.

“BLOOD! Ye GODS! This robe is RUINED! STEWARD! Well, His Highness MUST have a NEW robe! Aiiieee! WHAT IN THE NINE HELS IS THAT!”

Shufti was fairly certain THAT was a Djinn. He calmly shot the last man in the line of charging guardsmen. Shufti was also fairly certain that this Djinn was bound to the service of the Ring, and therefore, on his side. He shot the next to the last guardsman. With all the screaming it was hard to concentrate. By the time he had re-loaded the remaining guardsman had realized that he was alone. Shufti let the man go.

The dusty, blood spattered little man that Ali led from the ruin was strangely silent. His eyes were vacant, but he jumped at the slightest noise. Ali and Aman had taken his weapons, although he did not seem like he would hurt others or himself. Shufti did not fear the guards of Tyrius, but he was an outlaw here and he was now the custodian of a Royal embarrassment. The Dogs melted into the slums of Tyrius.

His Highness Prince Khirim Shah was never seen in Araby again. Occasionally Shufti would receive notes from his friend Omar bin Usef, the caravan master, complimenting him on the silent slave Shufti had gifted him…

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait
A Tale of Battle wherein Sheikh Shufti and his Dogs Enter the Valley of the Djinn

Sheikh Achmed Shufti rode Cloud Dancer slowly down the narrow defile. The skies had opened before dawn. It was almost unheard of to ride in a rainstorm in the desert, but the Dogs wanted to leave this narrow cleft in the rock before any flash floods could develop. Amra and Ibn Masuf had studied maps of the Plains of Haytin for hours to find this ‘gate’ as they called it. In this hidden valley many of the treasures that disappeared from Araby that evil day were said to lie waiting for the brave or the foolhardy to find them.

The Dogs had ridden hard and long to return to the plains. Last night they had camped near the oddly shaped rock pillars that Amra had led them to. In the clear desert air they had seen other campfires in the distance. Old enemies also searched for treasure and glory.

This morning they had risen early in the rain. Shufti, Ali and Aman had mounted, but the rest of the band had left their mounts under guard on the plateau. As the defile opened on to the floor of the valley, Shufti could see most of the surrounding terrain. Directly to the east a small pyramid and some broken columns rose from the desert floor along with scattered wind carved rock formations and dunes. Although Shufti could see no standing water there were small copses of palms throughout the valley.

The rain came down in sheets making it hard to see for great distances, but even so Shufti could see the hulking forms of two ogres moving down into the valley from the southeast. So much for secret knowledge! If the Slavers were here, the Ghutani probably were as well.

“Amra reports horses to the south, Great Sheikh!” Ali spoke the words even as Shufti completed his thought.

“Let us make them welcome, my Dogs! Abu! Amra! Do not let anyone pass these rocks. Al Bobo climb that dune to survey the field. Ali, Aman and I will explore the ruin.” Shufti spoke his orders in a loud voice. The time for subtlety was past.

The Turjuk horsemen urged their steeds toward the ruins, losing arrows and bolts toward the Ghutani that emerged from a parallel gully to the south. Several of the women fell, but none were seriously injured. The narrow valley echoed with the deep bellows of ogres and the shriller war cries of the Turjuk and Ghutani.

“Aiiieee! A Djinn!” Abu pointed excitedly to the east as a shimmering spirit of fire coalesced near the Slavers. There were more bellows from the ogres and wails of dismay from the slaves. Clearly someone had disturbed a guardian.

Despite the presence of guardian spirits and enemy archers the Askari Sasha rode boldly into the valley toward the milling Slavers. She leapt nimbly from the back of her horse and plucked a shining blade from the heaped bones of man and horse. As she held aloft a glimmering blade the sands heaved and a titanic scorpion reared up from a hidden pit.

A Djinn attacked Shasha. The huge scorpion fell upon the Ghutani horse archer. The Slavers pushed towards the west while the Ghutani rushed east to confront the Djinn and the scorpion. Slowly the Turjuk’s Crimashin circled the enemy warbands looking for a weakness.

Shufti and Aman pulled up to engage the Ghutani with missile fire as Ali rode to the ruins and dismounted near a crumbling monolith. At the plinth’s base lay a crumbling skeleton clad in an intact suit of ornate armor. As Ali investigated the skeleton a strange transformation took place. Suddenly Ali stood clad in shining armor, a knight of Araby! With a joyous cry Ali sprang on to the Great Heart’s back and rode toward the Ghutani.

It seemed the only choice at the time, but as a general melee broke out throughout the valley, the Dogs swept toward the Ghutani flank in a reckless charge. Ali rode down a Ghutani warrior who had been stalking Amra amid the boulders to the south. Aman charged a lone Ghutani mumlak. Abu and his tribesmen fell upon a female gladiator and the Ghutani rabble she led. As they charged Shufti, Amra and Al Bobo sent arrows and crossbow bolts into the ranks of the Ghutani. A fanatic fell and stayed down, but several other warriors were just knocked off their feet temporarily.

Throughout the valley desperate battles were won and lost. Shasha fought the Djinn and defeated it easily only to be overwhelmed by the Slavers ogres and heroes. The Mad Saint of Ghut cut the huge scorpion to pieces. He then rushed to Shasha’s aid only to see her felled by a spear thrust before he could reach the fight.

As Ali charged the Ghutani another Djinn appeared from the ruin. It ignored Ali but attacked Shufti and Al Bobo with fiery magics. Ali and Aman were counter charged by even more Ghutani. The Angel of Death marshaled her forces to hold the Turjuk while her comrades tried to destroy the Slavers. Abu fell to the woman gladiator but his tribesmen hacked the woman and her cohorts down in turn. Ali held the Angel of Death at bay, but Aman had ridden too far in front. He was surrounded by Ghutani, unhorsed and taken out of the fight.

The Crimashin sheltered near an ancient Sphinx of the Priest Kings. He watched intently as more Slavers crowded around the Mad Saint. The sandy depression that Shasha had originally ridden into was now churned red with the blood of the fallen. Besides Shasha and her horse, one ogre was down, the Ghutani horse archer had fallen and several Slavers were scattered cruelly about as well. The boastful Ghutani Shufti called the Heretic suddenly sank to his knees and collapsed face down. A slave’s dagger protruded from between his shoulder blades. The Mad Saint cut down another Slaver, but fell to the slashing blades of three Slavers intent on revenge. The surviving Slavers faced the Ghutani Vizor and the Holy Woman of An’I across the bloody sand.

The Vizor had been everywhere on the field. She had ridden north to support the Angel of Death with her fire arrows. One of the Turjuk mamluks had burned before the Vizor had to withdraw to seek healing from the many hurts inflicted on her person by Shufti and Al Bobo’s bolts. She had reached the fight at the wahdi just in time to benefit from the Holy Woman’s healing prayers before the Saint succumbed to his wounds. Somehow the Vizor had also had time to loot one of the fallen Slaver’s of a curious shield as well.

As the antagonists eyed one another over the still bodies of their comrades a shrill scream broke the tableau. To the south Ali spun the rearing Great Heart in a small circle of victory above the still bodies of the last three Ghutani henchwomen. Further to the south the rest of the surviving Dogs jogged toward Ali to form a new line to face the apparently victorious Slavers.

The Slave Merchant barked a command and the surviving Slavers charged Ali. Ali and the Great Heart took the charge and struck one of their enemies down. From the north all the surviving Dogs charged the enemy if they could or rushed toward the fight if they were too far away. All except Shufti and Al Bobo, Al Bobo was locked in combat with a vicious Djinn. Shufti’s body was alight with an otherworldly glow, but despite his almost supernatural strength and courage he could not summon the will to charge the fearsome ogre that attacked Ali. Ibn Masuf rushed the ogre in his stead. The huge monster laughed with glee and rained blows on the martial scholar. As more warriors joined the fight the Vizor of Ghut rode to attack Ali as well. Ali was focused on helping Ibn Masuf defeat the ogre, the sudden attack from his blind side overthrew the knight and his horse.

A wail of despair went up from the Dogs to see their champion fall, but they fought on! Al Bobo defeated the Djinn. Shufti regained his courage and rode Cloud Dancer to trample the ogre. Ibn Masuf summoned the Djinn of the Ring. The Hermit rushed into the midst of the fight and shouted a martial prayer of doom upon the enemies of the one. Several enemy warriors took physical hurt from the righteous wrath of the servant of the one, including the foul Slave Merchant. The surviving Dogs cut down the ogre and his master the Merchant. But it was the last hurrah for the Dogs. One by one the remaining warriors were overwhelmed by their foes. The Vizor of Ghut cut down the Hermit, Ibn Masuf and Al Bobo in single combats. Their blades could not pierce her armor (once again the Vizor had claimed the loot of a fallen hero, in this case Ali’s armor.) Shufti fell surrounded by his loyal henchmen and at the last Cloud Dancer defended his body alone until the Slavers beat the loyal beast to her knees.

The fight passed on deeper into the valley. In the interlude the silent Crimashin was able to load the bleeding Shufti unto Cloud Dancer's unsteady saddle. Together they were able to escape the field of slaughter. From the rim of the Valley they watched the two surviving Slavers trap the Ghutani Vizor in the loose sand of the valley floor. Without the healing power of the Holy Woman the Slavers outmaneuvered the wounded, heavily armored Vizor of Ghut. Finally, they cut her down. The weak and despised Slavers had gained all the treasures of the Valley of the Djinn!

Thus ends the Venerable Mordheim Campaigns interlude with Animosity 3 and the Relics of the Crusades. Thanks for reading, I hope you've enjoyed the story.
js

I must say that this warms the cockles. I found this today and am glad that our work has found a place in your games. It was fun putting it all together and, as the crusades is a particular era of interest to me, great to see it floating about in forums and keeping the dream alive.

(As an aside - we always made modifications to supplements we played, so it's great to see how people have modified ours)