The trials of Wolfgang and Spadez (Dubstyles vs. Figgy)

Green mists swirled around the feet of Mordred, Priest of Morr, as he finished his prayer and arose amongst the ragtag Mercenaries sullenly gathered around him. Winland's Rude Ruffiens had been in the city for just over a month, and the cost in lives had kept the humble priest busy. He had only joined with those loathsome deserters for the protection they could offer him as he carried out his grim task of helping the dead rest in Mordheim. He despised the crippled braggart Winland with every ounce of his being. The oaf's lust for wyrdstone would lead them into certain doom and Mordred could tell that many in the warband shared his concerns.

“Right, that's enough cryin' over that maggot. He only joined up last week, looks like he cost us more treasure than'e found” barked Winland. “Time to move out! Wolfgang!” he turned his attention to the dangerous looking mutton-chopped man leaning on his greatsword, “Fritz spotted them Grinnin' Boys Orcs not far to the north, maybe you'll get to take more than that old-n-haggered Orc's arm this time. If Sigmar smiles on us today, we'll catch them as they're separated, otherwise... well we better hope the priest's God has good plans for us!”

The inflection is his tone made Mordred's blood boil. As he walked from the boy laying on the ground, the light glinting off the gold crowns on the his eyelids and through the green glow made him look like a raccoon in the moonlight.
---
Wolfgang thought about the Orc he had bested in combat weeks earlier, how a strange cloud had descended upon him and his rampage through a large hairy beast man and a grizzled Orcish veteran in black and white armor. Peering from behind a busted bookshelf in the middle of a street he could see 3 Orcs hunched over digging in the dirt and a Troll drooling and staring at the dim light of the sun through the black clouds, but no sign of the one armed Orc.

“FIRE!” shouted Winland, breaking Wolfgang's train of thought. Shot and bolts peppered the half-naked Orc smeared in blue warpaint closest to him, and the beast roared into action.

This was a surprise attack on Figgy's Orcs by my Rieklanders, things went badly and a certain hero with a history with a certain tough-as-nails Orc got captured!

Wolfgang Farber limped methodically through the crumbling streets of Mordheim. After being booted out by the Orcs, he had gained a certain respect for their twisted warrior's code. The green beasts wouldn't kill a captive who put up a good fight, instead they took "Suzi", his prided dueling pistol, and sent him on his way... after relieving the terrified Fritz of all the warband's stash of course. The one called Spadez had promise to kill him with Suzi, but Wolfgang wondered if it even knew how to fire the thing.

Thaddeus Fritz, 10 paces ahead of the wounded veteran, cried out, "I see a well up here!" All adventurers knew that wells were an almost guaranteed source of wyrdstone, and Wolfgang grabbed the rope from the boy as he was, preparing to descend. "I'm a good climber, used to climb me gammy's barn and throw rocks at the wolves when they came'a prowlin' at night!" touted the young blood. "Worse things than wolves down there boy..." lectured Wolfgang, as he pushed his "rescuer" aside.

Wolfgang laboriously hoisted himself over the edge, denying Fritz's attempts at assistance, and into a simple climbers loop about his thighs. "If i'm not back up in 10 minutes, get back to camp!" 10 seconds later the young blood heard a grunt, and then a sploosh! The boy shifted nervously on his feet while looking around into every shadowed window and crooked alleyway. Beady red eyes could be seen peering out of the ruins, and with a huff and a step, he was off running.

After paying the ransom for Wolfgang I rolled up a well, and poor Wolfgang failed his toughness test.

Spades walked slowly behind the Troll. His new pistol dangling from his belt. He had no idea how to use the zoggin' thing.

The Grinnin' Boys knew there was much Wyrstone in this area of Mordheim, some kind of living district, but the humans got here first.

They were pinned down, crossbow bolts flying over their heads as they ducked behind a stone wall in front of what looked to be a ruined shop. Spades spotted Grimgrin yelling at the troll, trying to get him to charge the small two story building the few humans were settled in, but the troll was a tad too busy eating a few overturned barrels of rotting fish.

Just then the one-armed orc spotted more movement behind the building. It was the young human that turned over some wyrdstone shards in exchange for Wolfgang's freedom, he was running around frantically looking for something - wyrstone shards if Spades' guess was correct.

"Boss" he said, "Derz more 'umies out der. Prolly gettin' dat wyrdstone before we do."

Grimgrin let out an angry cry, kicking Rotten with an Ironshod boot, "Get in der and smash dem 'umies up before I krump you meself! Dumb troll!"

The troll obeyed, but it looked like the only reason was he ran out of decayed fish to eat. Rotten charged forward with a mighty roar, and spades and the rest of the orcs followed just behind him. Bolts whizzed through the air, pinning themselves in the trolls flesh before the regenration kicked in and pushed them out.

To Spades' suprise, the humans held their ground until it was too late. The marksmen disappeared from the windows moments before Rotten crashed through the wall, sending rubble everywhere. It knocked an unfortunate marksmen to the ground, and he barely had time to look up at what caused the damage before a tide of vomit came pouring down onto him, an acidic mixture of Rotten's stomach acids and the recently devoured decayed fish.

Gobsmacked ran past the troll first, heading towards another marksmen that was running away with a heavy satchel, a large glowing green stone potruding from the opening. He was almost there when a greatsword flashed from around the corner of the building that the troll had not ruined. It caugh Gobsmacked in the chest, causing him to drop his choppa and fall face-first at Wolfgang's feet. A piglet forced itself out of Gobsmack's backpack, running away as fast as it could from the troll.

The marskman with the wyrdstone ran a shortways down the street, and over a rickety bridge that was crudely built over a small canal. Wolfgang followed him until he got to the small wooden escuse for a bridge and turned to face the Orc warband alone, or so he thought. The rest of the humans heard the commotion and came to the battle. Now it was time for a real scrap.

Wolfgang stepped away from the bridge, with the rest of his mercenary crew here he didn't need to cover the lone marksman's escape anymore. He was still dangerously close to the entire Orc warband, the rest of the humans on the other side of the canal. Nevertheless, he took his claymore in one hand and leveled it straight at Spades.

"I'll be taking back my pistol, Spades" He spat.

In that moment Pistol and Crossbow fire sang through the air, and the orcs ran and lept across the small canal, the troll was left behind to eat what he killed.

And Spades stood only paces away from Wolfgang. They were uninterrupted, the rest of the fight was going on across the canal.

"I thought you were going to be killing me with my dear pistol." the human said with a smirk.

"Yeh, once I figgur out how ta use da zoggin' fing."

Spades charged, bringing his axe down in an attempt to cleave Wolfgang's skull. The human expected the attack and batted it aside, using the momentum to swing around and land a blow across the orcs' face, blood trickled down to the cobblestone.

"Graaagh! You'z gonna pay for dat!"

Wolfgang followed up with an elbow to ribs, taking advantage of the orc's missing arm, only to be answered by a headbutt. An Orc's head is incredibly stronger than that of a human's, but with some twist of the magic in the wyrdstone, Spade's had grown horns, and that made it knock the human to the ground.

"Bettah hope der aint nuffink in dat water 'umie!" the orc laughed as he kicked the human over the edge and into the canal.

Spades was in the middle of laughing when a crossbow bolt sank into shoulder.

"Alright, who's da wise guy?" He said as he crossed the bridge to join the rest of the boys in battle.

(Wolfgang got a full recovery. Which is good, I Wanna take him out with his own gun! )

nice battle rep, keep um coming.

EXCELLENT READ! The ongoing emnity between Wolfgang & Spades is the stuff epics are made of...sort of a Mordheim version of The Duelists.

Good reports guys. I think you should change the title of the thread to the "Spades and Wolfgang" show

New one will come soon, Tomorrow another game!

Thanks for reading!

Wolfgang found himself climbing his way out of acrid, slimy water for the second time in the span of a week. Peering over the edge of the wall and through the legs of several orcs, he could see his warband routing, and the mangled and vomit covered body of Winland being dragged off by a troll. He slipped back into the water and paddled away on a floating barrel Those cursed orcs were always at Winland's heels, and this was no way to leave a fight! With eight angry orcs and a troll between him and his men, Winland saw no other way of survival in his battered state.

Upon returning to camp, everyone was in disarray. Many heads turned to him for leadership as he cursed his own reputation. Wolfgang knew he was no leader, and thankfully the black robbed Mordred choose that moment to stepped forward and delivered his speech.

'My men, we have lost many, and suffered much at the horrors of this damned city, but we will not falter in our true task. Mor awaits us all, for there is no doubt, so we must simply..."

Wolfgang had wandered out of earshot, to drain his flask in peace. He sat perched on the decrepit city walls, smoke from the burning houses stinging his eyes, wondering how he had gotten to this point. Winland, his closest friend, was now filling the belly of a troll. A maniacal orc was constantly seeking him out for a duel. And now he was to follow this death priest on some spiritual quest he cared nothing for.

No amount of treasure, no number of restless souls quieted, would fill the void left by Winland's passing. He cared not for the ramblings of his new leader and in fact had suspected the priest of vying for control since they first met the seemingly harmless old man on the road to Mordheim. Such a simple offer it seemed, offer solace to the priest as he quietly carried out his funerary rites while trailing he mercenaries through the city.

As a noble Sigmarite, Wolfgang had no hatred towards the God of Death, all Imperials acknowledged Mor's necessity with a silent nod or prayer from time-to-time. But the fervent followers of the faith always stuck Wolfgang as an oddity, and just plain creeped most people out. Mordred's intentions though seemed misplaced... was he really in it for some holy mission, or was he just trying to amass a great pile of wealth for his own burial mound to impress Mor?

Now however, half a bottle into his "medicine", Wolfgang vowed to himself:

"I'm not cut out to lead, so i shall follow him, but by Sigmar, if by some vile magicks that death worshiping fraud offered up Winland to his morbid master, i'll send him to Mor myself!"

------------

The thick fog swirled in conical ripples, flaring out behind each crossbow bolt sent in probing shots towards clawed scraping and chittering voices. Every few shots yielded a high pitched squeal from an inhuman foe.

Laut Atzwig, cursed the fog and the whole damned city, for descending just after he had spotted squat, furry shadowed figures skittering through the rubble. Suddenly, out of the pale, a black furred ratman leaped upon the marksman protecting left flank. Girnot was cut down before Laut could raise his pistol in response. He cought a glimpse of yellow fangs and red eyes before they disappeared down a slope into a sea of mist.

The Skaven was attempting to sneak around and charge form the rear, but Laut saw through the ploy as it scrambled up a set of steps. "Clever furball!" he spat while awaiting at the top with a gift of shot and ball.

The shot skinned the leg of the creature and it performed an elaborate leap directly over Laut's head and into the firing line's rear. Before the mercenary could join the fight he was confronted by several dog sized rats and two of the man-sized variety. dropping his pistol and drawing his axe he readied himself to accept their charge.

Up in front, Konrat was chopping wildly at more rats crawling across the top and clinging on the bottom of the narrow wooden walkway he was defending. A few paces behind Mordred was rallying the defense with his booming oratory, when out of the mists a great sickly green gout of blackpowder sent its deadly package through Konrat's chest and into Mordred's neck, his last words cut short in a shower of green sparks.

Laut had felled all the vermin assailing him, but the deafening green blast had shaken the nerve of the rest of the men. Lout picked up the least sickly looking rat at his feet, and dinner in tow, followed the rest of the bunch as they withdrew.

-----------

Back in the relative safety of Sigmar's Haven the remaining members of what used to be Winland's Rude Ruffians spent the last of their crowns dranking their troubles away in the Hairy Hag Tavern. Wolfang had been listening to the boasts of a rather charismatic Sigmarite, calling himself The Lucky Shepard. This zealous and barrel-chested warrior priest was showing off his many scars to a growing crowd, many of which were Wolfgang's compatriots.. "This one i got from the barbed tongue of a she-deamon summoned by Mad Molbricht the Salacious. And this one from the dagger of an assassin sent by the count of Middenheim himself! And this one from an arrow shot by an elfish noble across yonder seas..."

Now here was a religious man Wolfgang could relate to. A Sigmar fearing, hard drinking, trash talking warrior cut from the same cloth as the rest of the ragged bunch. His tall tales had stirred life back into the disillusioned eyes of the warband, and made their hardships bearable for the evening.

"...and yet, after all this, i am still alive, by sheer luck or Sigmar's hand, or a bit of both!" The Shepard had finished his spiel to raucous laughter and cheers.

Wolfgang approached him with a proposition. "Shepard, our group has lost many, and we were about to cut our losses and let this city defeat us. Although they look to me for guidance, I have no desire to lead, i haven't the tongue for it, though i dearly want revenge on every horror that stalks those streets for what they have done to my friends. I fear without a strong will to guide us in smiting those evils, we will relent to the madness of Mordheim and disperse. So we need a leader, and it appears that you are need of a flock!"


Winland, my leader died in the game Figgy reported on above while fighting a troll. After that the Priest of Mor was made leader, and promptly died in the next game to a warplock pistol ricochet. We house rule any warband may re-buy leaders, so i got a new one, and using the The Book of Imperiel Names I generated The Lucky Shepard... so apparently a charismatic warrior preacher rescued the warband from cutting their losses and running from Mordheim to enact revenge in the name of Sigmar! New warband name: Sigmar's Vengeful Flock

Great reports gentlemen! Good luck with the new leader Dubsyles!

Something I put together right quick. An idea Dubstyles and I had. (I'm gonna get him to write the next part, as this lil short story happened in the fluff and not the table top!)

Like always, it's crap, but I hope you enjoy it.

Spades was getting frustrated. He had been trying to teach both Wotnot and Gobsmacked the finer points of poker. Particularly the heirarchy of the different hands. Neither of the young'uns (who were now pretty big) could grasp the concept.

Spades rubbed his temples with his only hand before slamming his fist down on the table, making Wotnot and Gobsmacked flinch. The veins in his forehead were starting to show, and it was burning where his horns connected to the side of his head.

He was angry. His fellow orcs didn't have the mental capacity to play any card games. He hadn't seen Wolfgang in over a month. The pistol was much harder to learn how to use than he thought. And to top it all off, he couldn't shuffle his deck of cards properly with only one hand, and all attempts to figure out a new trick to do so seemed futile.

"You'z dumb gits!" he snarled as he got up from the table, "I'z need to go find sumfink ta krump wot aint youz two."

Gobsmacked tossed the cards in his hand on the table angrily, "Wots da point of a dumb 'umie game anyways?! It's fer dumb gits dat can't scrap an' stay inside like a snivlin' snotlin'!"

Wotnot immedietly pushed away from the table, a smart move. The one armed orc had already tossed the table aside, sending cards flying through the air like confetti. Spades pointed his finger at Gobsmacked and growled, "You'z say dat again, git-face, an' I'z gonna keep wot little teef you got left in dat gob."

Gobsmacked stood up to full height, "You aint much bigga den me no more Spades, an' besides, I got both me arms, and two iz betta dan one."

All the other orcs in the ruined building had heard the argument by now, and had come to watch as Spades lunged for Gobsmacked, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him against a wall.

Gobsmacked tried to punch his way free, but Spades opened his mouth and caught the unruly orc's wrist in his jaw and bit down hard before tearing into his flesh like a squig. Releasing his grip, he threw Gobsmacked on the ground before stomping on his head. The younger Orc cried in pain and grasped his bloody face before Spades kicked him in the ribs, rewarding him with another cry of anguish.

To Spades' dismay, Grimgrin and Krensh grabbed him to tear him away before causing any permanent damage to a Black Orc in the Grinnin' Warband. He struggled for a bit, but the boss and Krensh were both strong orcs, and kept him subdued.

After calming down he was set free from the grasp of the other two orcs. Gobsmacked was sitting where he had been thrown down, dark and thick blood flowed down his face from a gash in his forehead before trickling to the floor. He gave Spades an angry look.

"I'z need to go krump sumfink." said Spades, before stomping torwards the door.

"Wur yah goin' boss?" replied Green, looking up from a pile of what looked like rat teeth.

"Fer a walk."

The door slammed as he walked off with his choppa.

Quite interesting, I'm looking for more.

Shimmering pools of water collected in the gutters around the cobblestone streets of the Merchant's District. Dim grey light weakly peeked through the fog and the thick blanket of ever-present couds.

Spades walked down the street, breathing in the foul air that smelled as it always had in the City of the Damned: Rotting fish and sewer water. He kept an eye on each alleyway he passed, as he always had. Rarely did anything pose a threat to him, as the Grinnin' Boys long since took over this little corner of Mordheim. All that he caught glimpses of were heaps of debris and the occasional rat.

Spades had stopped muttering to himself after awhile, the anger at his warband subsiding. He figured he would teach the young orcs a lesson in manners sometime later. It was getting dark and time to head back to the camp either way, but something caught his eye down the street - a lit lantern hanging from a familiar statue that he passed just about everytime the boys went out stomping.

The horned Orc grew excited and drew his choppa from the latch at his side. If that lanter belonged to some dumb humie and his mates, he'd get to do some chopping! Quietly he moved towards the lantern - it sat on the base of a statue of an old humie with a beard as long as himself. The boys had long since painted all over it to mark the territory of the Grinnin' Boys, but the humie was some old git named Wise Deaf Nala. As Spades got closer, he saw nobody around, but upon a closer inspection he saw something written near lantern in red. He leaned on the head of his choppa and leaned over to read it.

So Long yah dumb git!

"Well what dumb git would write sumfink like - "

He felt it before he heard it, a blinding pain in the back of his head and then the loud crack of a rifle. He remained conscious against all odds, dropping his choppa and clutching the back of his head. The thick ichor that is orc blood seeped through his fingers.

"GRAGH!" Spades shouted, the deafening roar of his cry shaking the very cobblestones at his feet, "Whoever did dat is gonna get krumped somethin' fierce! Come out where I can seez yah!"

Spades spun around toward the direction the bullet came from, snarling and picking up his choppa at his feet.

He was answered with silence, the only sound coming from his own heavy, raspy breathing. It was true he wanted to fight something, but scrapping with bullets is not something anyone usually won, even an orc.

"COME OUT YAH GIT!" he screamed again.

Off in the distance a voice responded, "Wait a minnut! Is dat you Spades!?"

"Yeh, what of it!?" he responded.

An orc came out of the alleyway at the far end of the street, "You looked like one of dem beasties wit dem horns!"

Spades looked at him closely and recognition kicked in, "Blakkjak?"

The other orc was joggin his way towards him, a double barreled handgun slung over his shoulder, tucked behind a shield. He wore a patch over his left eye, a vampire long since took it out. A brace of pistols hung from his belt and he was adorned with leather armor and plate shoulderpads. Spades remembered he wore no helmet as it got in the way of him making decent shots.

Blakkjak grew closer and laughed, "What in Gork's named happened to yah? Yah got horns and no arm...and yer missin' an eye like me! HAH!"

Spades latched his choppa to his side, "Well, 'umie got me arm, beasty got me eye, and dese wyrdstone shards made me grow dese 'ere horns. Dey itch sumthin' terrible but they is good in a scrap. Why aint you dead?"

"I'z ded'ard and shooty. Dats why I aint dead. I'z been lookin' fer any uvva boys! I need a proppa waaaaghband ta join!"

"Well den, come wif me. I got some gits back at da camp."

Blakkjak grinned, "Hope yer new warband needs a good shoota."

dude! I love it!

Good work mate. Spades grew horns? When did that happen?

He's always had em, since he grew em...I guess I should compile both my posts....

Sorry, the first bits of story came from some old posts a page or two back, but he has huge lopsided horns that he grew thru getting a mutations via holding a shard.(Optional power in the stones rules)

Doh! No worries, I'd just forgotten in the interlude between episodes.

Well, if at least one person is reading them I will keep writing them, lol.

Hehehehehe

...I feel "betta" for that too!

Thanks for reading my crappy stories guys. :p

Figgy wrote:

Thanks for reading my crappy stories guys. :p

Thanks for posting your crappy, erm..ENTERTAINING stories.

Not long and I will be posting pictures of the actual painted/wip models to go along with the story.

Much better than crappy words!

Figgy wrote:

Not long and I will be posting pictures of the actual painted/wip models to go along with the story.

Much better than crappy words!

OH BABY!