Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy!

The Dark Elf list looks VERY PROMISING, AND, as Raiders, it would mean I could do up a Dark Elven Ship; YOU ARE A CRUEL MAN/ORK KURGAN! Thanks for the lead, & someone to blame for YET ANOTHER BIT OF IMMMINENT LUNACY!

Frog has just started using a mix of the new Dark Elf kits as well, his warband is going to look very cool!

Admin Tom wrote:

@ Sizzling Gromril: For some reason I missed your account of the Waldorf Kleev transformation and of the nudist "flagellant-guy".
Both brilliantly written. Absolutely fantastic. Have you ever considered writing novels? I would buy them!

Thanks for the kind words, Tom. I've never really thought about writing a novel; I don't have the ability, or the time, or the attention span in which to write one. Maybe in a few years.

Poor Old Errol; cut down in his prime. If it wasn't for BAD LUCK, your Witch Hunters wouln't have ANY LUCK AT ALL!
AND Waldorf is not having a good day either. It's a tough town you've got there.

ANOTHER GREAT READ! WELL DONE, S.G.!

WarbossKurgan wrote:

Frog has just started using a mix of the new Dark Elf kits as well, his warband is going to look very cool!

You've got a guy named Frog in your group! Was he a breech birth? Mothers CAN be vindictive about that sort of thing .

AND I agree the Dark Elf Warband will be incredibly COOL. Only extreme poverty is restraining me from dashing off on YET ANOTHER binge of fiscal irresponsibility, a traint I share with the current Administration. Of course, that bank job would do the trick.

*signs subscritpion to Waldorf Kleev's Adventures by Sizzling Gromril*

Damn! The Chest of the dead cannot be opened without the key! But I want to know what's inside!

... Oh please find the key Waldi. Please!

DeafNala wrote:

You've got a guy named Frog in your group! Was he a breech birth? Mothers CAN be vindictive about that sort of thing .

Hehehe - his real name is Tim.
More photo: Frog vs. Sizz

Yea, tell that Frog character to get to painting, I wana see a dark elf warband!

Sweet pics. I see those dice are climbing up the wall. Very nice. Do you have only certain spots on the wall where a model may stop at the end of a turn? or is just "wherever a dice will fit"?

DeafNala wrote:

Only extreme poverty is restraining me from dashing off on YET ANOTHER binge of fiscal irresponsibility, a traint I share with the current Administration. Of course, that bank job would do the trick.

How are you so funny? to most ridiculous awesome quotes on the www...

YEA! MORE PHOTOS!

The few Dark elves I spied whacking it out with the Flagellants look to be cool. I didn't see the Witch Elves as a separate entity in the list; are they being used as regular, though kinky, Dark Elf Warriors?

LOVE the walkways; it's much more swash buckling battling away on some flimsy construct HIGH above the street! COOL!

@Ashton: I think my mother dropped me on my head one time too many.

By the way, have you ever thought of submitting these awesome battle reports to Brahm Tazoul's Letters of the Damned?

Boss: Kommodore Deffgit, 2x Club (86gc)
Shaman: Wrydtoof Hogbreff, Club (43gc)
Big'Un: Barnacle Nog, 2x Club (46gc)
Big'Un: Salty Oggbad, 2x Club (46gc)
3 Orc Boyz: Fishgutz, Bad Hook and Blind Fug, 2x Club (93gc)
3 Orc Boyz: 2x Club (93gc)
2 Goblins: Dread Pirate RogUrtz and Stormy Trug, 2x Club (42gc)
2 Goblins: Walker Plank and Dirty Morrgun, 2x Club (42gc)

The Models

Total of 491gc

Da Ogresun

A large but slow vessel, armed with a dozen looted Empire Mortars. This is the gunship of the Ironfang Fleet but it is un-manoeuvrable due to its massive armament and vast quantity of armour plating. The sharpened metal slabs of its prow form a huge leering face of Gork. Captained by Kommodore Deffgit the order to cease-fire is often a little late coming. The Ogresuns themselves are a particularly piratey bunch of Orc pirates - they have adopted the lifestyle, clothing, mannerisms, habits and tactics of every pirate they have ever met, seen or heard of.

~ ~ ~

The slab-sided Ogresun pitched and rolled in the rough waters off the coast north of Vercuso. Packets of white and indeed green water on occasion came over the prow forcing all on board to cling to ropes and spars for dear life.

The door of the captain's cabin burst open and a dripping wet goblin fell through. As he righted himself and put his hat back on he could feel Kommodre Deffgit's baleful eye upon him.

"Biggin' yer pardon Kommodore, I wuz about to knock right proppa like…" his voice tailed off and he cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that the old bearded Orc didn't care to hear his excuses, he hurriedly continued: "Signal from Da Hogwasha Boss: Kommodore to repair aboard the flag."

"Roight" said Deffgit standing up "Tell Nog and Oggbad to rouse out the watch bellow and tell Mr Oggbad to ready the red cutter. You mind none of them Squigs attack the Boyz while they work this time though, ye chumbucket!"

The goblin squeaked "Aye aye Boss!" and fled before the Kommodore extracted himself from behind his desk. Deffgit was left alone to contemplate what the Adm'rul might want him to do in Vercuso...

~ ~ ~

I figured (since a few of our warbands are getting super-tough now) that it wouldn't hurt to start a second warband. That way there will be a bit more variety in our games and the rapid advance of the Fishmen will be slowed a little (of special note: no Troll in this one!).

Eliazar wrote:

By the way, have you ever thought of submitting these awesome battle reports to Brahm Tazoul's Letters of the Damned?

Have you got a link?

WarbossKurgan wrote:

I figured (since a few of our warbands are getting super-tough now) that it wouldn't hurt to start a second warband. That way there will be a bit more variety in our games and the rapid advance of the Fishmen will be slowed a little (of special note: no Troll in this one!).

WHAT A GREAT EXCUSE! BRAVO!I've got to keep that in mind next time I'm trying to convince myself that "just a few more Goblins' won't hurt the finances TOO BAD!

Loved the Ogresun & the prebattle fluff as always. FLAME ON ROCKS & RULES!

WarbossKurgan wrote:

Have you got a link?

Here's the link to the ezine:

http://redclawgaming.com/cs/files/11/letters_of_the_damned/default.aspx

And here's the submission adress:

lod@redclawgaming.com

Both can be found somewhere on this very forum as well, but don't ask me where...

Here it is: https://boringmordheimforum.forumieren.com/tutorials-and-articles-f18/letters-of-the-damned-t159.htm

Landings Lights and Accurate Arrows continued...

The Ogresuns spent the morning after their meeting with the Halibuteers in the area around the harbour – a strangely silent part of town considering all they'd heard about what was going on here. Wyrdtoof the Shaman was about to start a tale about the time he saw a High Elf city explode as a result of a massively miscast spell but he was interrupted by a shout from the shattered building above them and the Ogresuns instinctively tensed, drawing cutlasses and pistols.







A large band of Bretonnian Outlaws revealed themselves from their hiding places – small groups of them where dotted about among the roof timbers of the ruins. The Orcs dived into cover and peered around corners at the humans blocking their path back to the boat.



Kommodore Deffgit weighed up the advantages and disadvantages of charging through in a massed block against those of spreading out and hoping a few of them would make it through a weak spot in the Outlaw's lines. A couple of facts tipped the balance: Firstly, he had to get the Halibuteers report back to the Ironfang Fleet and any of the Pirates could pass that information on. Secondly the cutter could be sailed easily by as few as two able Orcs. The choice was made and he yelled out his orders.







"Roight Ladz! Make a run for the barky and remember the Code: any Boyz what falls behind is left behind!"

The Orcs greeted this pronouncement with unconcealed glee and bounded forwards. Barnacle Nog looked at the deck hands with him as he ran through the narrow alleys of the Shambles. They were all inexperienced and clearly didn't realise he danger the Outlaws posed. With a grin he let them go through the archway, onto the open street, first.



It didn't take long for the Orcs to learn, though it was the hard way, as arrows rained down around them and one by one they fell. There seemed to be no escaping them either: even when they hid behind broken walls or makeshift barricades there seemed to be at least half a dozen Outlaws that could still see them from another direction.





Nog's group rushed through a doorway into the teeth of barbed arrow, two Boyz fell almost immediately, Fishgutz slammed into a big hairy Outlaw and took an evil swipe at his head with the weighted butt-end of his pistol but the bearded oaf knocked the blow aside with his quarter-staff, span it round with a flourish and slammed it into Fishgutz's head.





Over on the right flank Wyrdtoof summoned a blast of green energy but the short round monk managed to avoid the head-splittingly painful jolt through his faith in The Lady (and his lucky charm).





From the very rear of the Outlaws lines the Black Knight charged: hooves clattered on cobbles the huge black horse huffed and snorted and as it gained momentum the Knight lowered his lance. The Goblin who liked to call himself "Dread Pirate RogUrtz" squealed in terror and dived for cover in the low archway of the Tavern, hoping that the Knight wouldn't be able to follow him. It didn't entirely work but he was only knocked over by a glancing blow. Stormy Trug charged to RogUrtz's rescue, stabbing at the Knight's foot with his cutlass, but the steel armoured footwear defeated him in more ways than one: Stormy was kicked squarely in the head and went down.



After Salty Ogbad, Wyrtoof and the Kommodore were all hit in quick succession by arrow after offensively well aimed arrow Barnacle Nog called it a day and the Pirates fell back from the waterfront, ignoring the Code and taking their wounded with them.

WELL DONE; lulled them into a feeling of false security, a cunning plan. Now that the lads are blooded & those sneaky Bretts think they're pushovers, it's time to strike!

Thanks for another good read & some EXCELLENT photos. LIFE IS GOOD [especially when one considers the alternative ]!

We had a four-way fight the same evening as my lunchtime scrap with Saul's new orc pirates. This 'post-mortem' covers both...

zelophahad wrote:

Le Moine Tuc raised his head and looked at their anxious faces. “He’s dead,” he said.

Everyone was exhausted after their toughest day’s fighting since the Merrie Men of Chalons had smuggled themselves into Versuco aboard Le Sanglier. They’d spent the morning seeing off a new band of orc pirates who were only an improvement on the old ones in that they smelt slightly less bad. And in the afternoon they’d run into the same orcs again as well as two other gangs of scavengers: some elven pirates they’d heard rumours about, and a hitherto unknown band of foul undead creatures.

The morning’s fight had gone well, with both Tuc and Jean Le Petit bravely leading the way in taking the fight to the orcs hand-to-hand. But the afternoon had been bloody. Six men were lying on the beds in Tuc’s makeshift infirmary. The dark elves and foul creatures of undeath had done little more than force the Merrie Men and orcs into each others’ paths, but the consequences had been terrible.

The instant Tuc made his pronouncement, the tension in the room suddenly cracked: Jean Le Petit just looked at Tuc, his face ashen. Will L’Écarlate raised himself up in his bed, wincing. Beau Coup fell to his knees and buried his head in his hands. Mademoiselle Marianne broke down and wept inconsolably. The Merrie Men were merry no more.

Le Tenebreux watched from the shadows, but Tuc couldn’t see his face to gauge the Black Knight’s reaction. For a moment there was stunned silence, but for the sobbing.

Tuc felt the urge to repeat himself in the dialect of their distant home, as if that would make it feel more real. “Robin de Chalons, Le Capot,” he whispered, “est mort”

* * *

“Who will lead us now?” It was Beau Coup who first dared ask the question that had to be asked. The Merrie Men needed a new hero.

Jean Le Petit and Will L’Écarlate were the obvious contenders. Beau Coup knew that Will wanted the job – he’d wanted it for some time now. And yesterday, Beau would have said that Will was the man for the job – cunning and ruthless. But the wound that even now had him laid out on an infirmary bed had been inflicted by a particularly weedy-looking goblin, hardly a hero’s wound. These things mattered to the men.

Jean Le Petit on the other hand may not have had Will's intelligence and cunning but did have the universal love and respect of the men, much as Robin had enjoyed. And this day he had fought like a grail knight, his massive quarterstaff taking out a total of four orcs and a goblin – and two of the orcs had been the pirate’s leaders.

Beau had a lot of respect for Will, but he knew who he’d be voting for, when the time came.

* * *

Jean could already tell that the men were going to ask him to become their new leader – he could see it in their eyes. He knew he had grown in their estimation this day, but by the Lady, he knew he didn’t deserve it. Two men lay dead because of his hesitancy, Robin being one of them. He pictured the fight in his head yet again, as he had done a thousand times already.



Robin had bravely taken the fight to the pirates, but found himself knocked off his feet by the orc shaman’s foul magic. The men who had been supporting him, including Jean, had in that instant made the wrong choice: Rather than drawing their clubs and charging the orcs to give Robin a chance to get up, they had drawn their bows. And those seconds had cost Le Capot his life. He had fought the orcs off, even from the ground, but they had Robin on the back foot. Belatedly, his men had thrown themselves into the melee to protect him, Montée almost killing himself as he attempted a diving charge from a ladder.



But it had been too late. Even then, Jean had realised Robin’s wounds were mortal, and had set about himself with his staff like a man possessed. The men had interpreted his actions as heroic. He knew they were born of shame. And knew he would have to kill many more foes before he could forgive himself.



* * *

Marianne was still sobbing by Robin’s bed when the others had filed out of the infirmary to do whatever men like this did in these circumstances. She gazed at his proud, pale face through her veil of tears, her body shaking with sobs. He was the man who had shown her excitement and adventure, who had taught her to use a Bretonnian sword, who had taught her to shoot a Chalons longbow. Now she knew why: it was all so she could avenge her one true love. She had discovered the name of the orc who had taken him from her, and she vowed to The Lady that she would not rest until Fishgutz the Pirate was dead.

Quietly, the massive bulk of Le Tenebreux emerged from the shadows, still wearing his black plate armour, dented and scratched from his desperate fight with the mummy queen. He smiled gently at Marianne, and she was struck again by the strange familiarity of his features – who was it he reminded her of? As he came towards Robin’s bed, she respectfully made way for the knight and turned to leave her lover for the last time.

The black knight’s armour creaked and clattered as he knelt by Robin’s bed. As Marianne left the room she turned for one last look at Robin of Chalons. Le Tenebreux was standing over his body speaking quietly to him. With a shudder, Marianne suddenly realised. How had she not seen it before? As if to confirm her epiphany, the black knight’s whispered words drifted across the room to her: “Robin, je suis ton père.”

ROBIN Le CAPOT DEAD! SAY IT AIN"T SO! What a bummer, man!

It's testimony to the quality of the game AND the story when one can [AND I do ] feel a tangible loss at the demise of a litttle tin soldier. You have my deepest condolences. Another GREAT, if somewhat sad, READ, WONDERFUL PHOTOS! BRAVO!

The dockyard had the smell of fish and sweat about it. Red faced stevedores staggered here and there, heaving great crates and sacks, puffing, panting. Giddy clerks darted between them and tanned foremen barked orders. There was a scream and something flew out of an alley, crunched into the mud, rolled limply on the cobbles. A body. The face had all but gone, the brain behind it dripping wet, glistening for all to see. There was a tortured caw from the same alley and something tall and spindly, flesh as crimson as blood, a wild mane of purple hair bristling from its strange head, limped out.

The dockers scattered like pigeons. A watchman lowered his halberd at the beast, the tip trembling. He stared for a moment, then thought better of it and bolted away. A group of woodsmen, dressed all in greens and browns, seemed unperturbed. The massive man at their heart raised a lethal looking staff and roared the charge.

“Now!” barked Ludwig. The hulking priest dashed forward, battered hammers raised, wincing slightly as his broken ribs grated against his flesh. “Keep those bandits down, Kurt! Siegfried, come with me. Mueller, drive those brigands back. Waldorf Kleev is mine!”

The wailing thing hurtled towards the scarred priest, that huge claw raised high, that slithering cluster of tentacle reaching forwards. Ludwig raised his weapons, eager to meet the monster head on.

There was a gurgle from Mueller's position. The librarian had no doubt taken an arrow from those damned bandits. But Ludwig was determined. Too much death, too much pain, too many grieving widows, fatherless children left behind, all because of this damn creature that had once been a man.

“I'll kill you, you bastard! Damn you!” Closer now, close enough to smell the stink of the thing, ash and sulphur and blood. His knuckles whitened around his hammers. “This is for my boys!”

The Kleev beast stumbled over. An arrow jutted from one of those gangling legs. A canine howl rose from the distance – another of his party down.

“No, no, no! You are mine. I'll kill you”

But it was too late, already his warband were fleeing. A stout arm grabbed him beneath the armpit and dragged him away. “No, damn you!”

The red creature rose to its feet, and as the corner of a warehouse folded round and banished it from view, Ludwig felt his heart sink.

* * *

Already the wound had healed. There was no scar tissue. Waldorf fumbled at his leg with those long tentacles. Truly this new body was remarkable.

On the distant horizon the sun was setting, a dull ball that polluted the clouds and the water with its hellish orange glow, infecting the cumulus like a fiery gangrene.. The clouds seemed to sag into the blazing ocean, heavy and fat.

“Where the clouds meet Hell”.

To the east, a lone island wallowed in the sea, prickling with jagged rocks, each one ending in a sharp point that thrust directly upwards. One rose above the rest, so high it was a wonder it didn't pierce that stratosphere.

“Where the rocks meet heaven”.

FINALLY someone I've come to like has survived!

Not-So-Good Old Waldorf escapes an untimely demise, YES! Being a Possessed Mutated Ne'er Do Well ain't easy [I'm a pro-underdog guy ]! AND he's on the verge of solving the riddle to his quest. OH BABY! [This is a multi "!" post]

ANOTHER FINE read! Thanks mucho!

FISHGUTZ?! Sure pick on a poor one-eyed guy, who never [hardly] hurt anyone [except Robin Le Capote, your beloved ex-leader], er.....never mind.

Cool litttle bit of fluff there. This is the best bit of colaboration since the Sanctuary series. WELL DONE again!