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

Man, those orcs are getting destroyed. Has the orcs killed anyone yet? From the sound of how much the orcs are getting shot at I'm starting to think you need more cover/terrain. My orcs can get shot at once before getting into combat... if I'm unlucky.

I love how these games are converted into stories so you can't really even tell what game is being played. Thanks again!

For the love of God!

This is Great!!

Keep up the pics and story. I am enjoying this!!

Da Bank wrote:: For the love of Cod!

Fixed that for ya! Wink

zelophahad wrote:: The Merrie Men were heading back to their den, sweeping the ruined buildings for bits of Bloodfane as they went. Robin, Jean and the navy lad who’d deserted from Le Sanglier were rifling a corpse at the base of what may once have been a wizard’s tower. The rest of the band had climbed up high into the precarious ruins of the old town hall. Suddenly Will sounded his horn – a band of witch hunters had appeared in the vicinity and they didn’t look friendly.

Eager to prove himself to his new boss, the naval deserter ran towards the witch hunters while Robin and Jean knocked arrows to strings and looked for clear shots at the enemy.

Ash (now dubbed ‘Montee’ by the other Merrie Men) tried to scramble from one house to another to come to the aid of his boss, but yet again slipped and fell, bashing his head on an old timber and collapsing unconscious on the floor.

Meanwhile, the Witch Hunter himself was bringing his hounds around the left flank of the Merrie Men who could hear the yapping dogs approaching but the angles of the buildings denied clear shots for the marksmen high up above them.

With a clash of steel, one of the zealots leaped upon the former sailor. Outnumbered, and with only a dagger to defend himself, his career with the Merrie Men of Chalons was over almost as soon as it had begun.

One by one, the marksmen on the gantry became aware that they were not as safe as they’d thought. Their blood ran cold as they realised the dogs had found a way into their building – the sound of barking coming from the stairwell was rapidly getting louder.

Meanwhile, far below them, Jean Le Petit stowed his bow, grasped his mighty staff in his huge hands and stepped into the doorway of the ruined tavern. Within moments an old man wielding a flaming torch had thrown himself at him and Jean found himself floundering in the ground. Before he knew what was happening, someone was bludgeoning him from behind too and he passed out.

With a cacophony of howling, the dogs burst onto the landing and hugged the cover as the archers desperately tried, but failed, to take them down.

Robin had tried to shoot the zealot who was heading for the giant prone form of Jean, but his arrows had gone left yet again. Suddenly he found himself facing the frothing lunatic himself, still with bow in hand and sword in sheath. But even as the cold steel flashed out of his scabbard he watched his enemy fall at his feet, a yellow-fletched arrow in his chest. Robin’s heart swelled with love and pride: There was only one member of his gang who used yellow feathers, and he’d made the arrows for her himself.

Next to Marianne, the cool-headed Will saw his chance for glory in another direction. He knocked an arrow, drew his bow, and sent the dart thumping into the eye socket of the Witch Hunter far below him. But just below him on the gantry, the marksmen suddenly found themselves face to face with the rabid dogs.

Robin was outnumbered and in trouble too. He put one flagellant to the sword but then the Librarian Volger himself was upon him. Robin was bested, and his Merrie Men turned on their heels and fled.

And now Andy's side of the story...

Sizzling Gromril wrote:: Domingo Moriarty pressed himself against the brickwork.

“Load, aim, fire! Load, aim, fire!”

The booming mantra sounded overhead from somewhere deep in the ruins. A snap of bowstrings pierced the crisp, afternoon air, and a chorus of thin hisses sang above him. Stagnant water dripped from a broken gutter. The flames of his torch sizzled like fat on a skillet. Was his position betrayed?

There was a clump of feet high over him, and a shout of alarm. He had been discovered. He snatched his sword from its scabbard, cocked his pistol and leapt into action.

“Hounds” he roared. “Attack”.

* * *

There was a cry behind him, and Librarian Volger turned. The heavy set priest, Ludwig, was on his knees, clutching at his ruined hand. A barbed arrow had skewered it like a spit.

“Go”, the large man roared, blood foaming from his mouth. “Finish off these dogs”.

He tried to rise again, but another shaft thudded into his broad shoulder and punched him to the ground. Volger muttered a prayer for his friend and continued forward. His aged bones screamed in agony and his ancient lungs burned with the strain. His better days were well behind him, but he still had the fire of purpose in his eyes. He could hurt later.

He tramped towards a crumbling doorway and a towering, behemoth of a man appeared in its pitted frame. The giant grinned sardonically. Volger recoiled, recovered his nerve, and then charged. He swept his hammer upward in a clumsy fashion and the hulking man dashed aside, but not as quick as to avoid the oak staff that screamed from the librarian’s left hand. The stave caught the brute in the jaw and he crumbled backwards.

As the old man brought his hammer up for the killing blow a mad man, wild beard stained and knotted, frothing from the mouth, smashed a rusted flail into the downed leviathan’s skull. There was a sickening crack and his body went limp, except to jerk suddenly when his attacker toppled onto him with an arrow in his throat.
Moriarty’s battle cry rose from afar, and Volger pressed the attack.

* * *

“Hounds, smite them, tear them, rend them limb from limb. Bring me glory”.

The squat, slobbering beasts rushed forward, taking the steps two at a time and hugging the walls, just as they had been trained. Domingo Moriarty planted his boot on the first stair and then fell back dead. Crimson blood oozed from his right eye socket and pooled about the feathered arrow that had punctured it.
* * *

“What shall we do with his body, Father?”.

The muscular priest brooded for a moment, his right hand unconsciously nursing his wounded left.

“Bury him” he sighed. “And then I shall lead you to this Waldorf Kleev. Already too many have died for his madness”.

His acolytes rolled Domingo Moriarty into a shallow grave and began to shovel.

Ashton wrote:: Man, those orcs are getting destroyed. Has the orcs killed anyone yet? From the sound of how much the orcs are getting shot at I'm starting to think you need more cover/terrain. My orcs can get shot at once before getting into combat... if I'm unlucky.

I haven't done that badly! I lost the first game, won the second and lost the third! I have now added a couple more missile weapons, so I hope to be returning the hurt a bit more soon! Plus I intend to make use of the hiding rules, that I have so far neglected...

Ashton wrote:: I love how these games are converted into stories so you can't really even tell what game is being played. Thanks again!

It's the way I write all my battle reports, but cheers anyway!
Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy! - Page 2 665330

zelophahad wrote:: Robin Le Capot opened his eyes to see the derelict buildings of Vercuso bobbing past him. He appeared to be lying on his back. Quickly coming to his senses, he reached for his dagger but was relieved to see he was surrounded not by foes, but by his men. Two were carrying his stretcher, another two were struggling to support the massive, bloodied form of Jean Le Petit. The Merrie Men didn’t look so merry.

He gasped with pain as he was embraced by Marianne and smothered by her sweet-smelling hair and everything seemed a lot better. ‘Oh Robin!’ she exclaimed, ‘I thought I’d lost you!’

He smiled weakly because his head still pounded. ‘This is true love my dear. Death cannot stop true love, only delay it for a while.’ Marianne collapsed in tears of joy.

Behind her, Will L'Écarlate rolled his eyes. He was beginning to wonder whether Robin still had what it took to lead the Merrie Men. Who had killed the Witch Hunter? He had, not Robin. What had Robin done? He’d sent their newest recruit to his death. He’d left Jean Le Petit unsupported. He’d had to be rescued by the arrows of his girlfriend. And if his men hadn’t managed to rescue him, he’d have got himself killed too.

Le Moine Tuc saw the look in Will’s eye and guessed his thoughts. But however Will felt, Robin was still their beloved boss. The ‘willow’ marksman Beau Coup had distinguished himself with his speed shooting skills and become something of a hero among the other men. And he was fiercely loyal to Robin, having been his manservant in wealthier times back home in Chalons. The Merrie Men weren’t falling apart just yet.

Suddenly they heard the unmistakable clatter of hooves and the clank of heavy armour coming round the street corner behind them. The sound of a knight on a warhorse. Mademoiselle Marianne went as white as a sheet: Her dreadful fiancée, Sir Geraint, had found them and here lay Robin unable to protect her! The Merrie Men instantly turned and formed a protective wall around their wounded leader, arrows on strings, knocks drawn back to their cheeks…

But the splendid knight who appeared around the corner did not appear to be Sir Geraint. No gaudy gold and red tabard for him, just plain black – plain black armour, plain black shield, plain black tabard, plain black horse. His helmet visor was closed but the fact that his lance was held upright indicated that he was not about to charge them. Not yet.

‘Friend or foe?’ shouted Will. The black knight did not respond.

‘Friend or foe?’ Will repeated. ‘Speak, before my men make a pin cushion of you!’

‘You may call me Le Tenebreux,’ the knight said softly, his voice muffled by his black helm, ‘and those are not your men. They are the men of Robin of Chalons, who is called Le Capot, and is lying on a stretcher behind you.’

Will flinched at the rebuke but stood firm. ‘Friend or foe?’

‘He is a friend. A good friend.’ Robin’s voice was quiet and laboured but full of joy and relief. ‘And he has come at just the right time.’

Excellent Stuff! thumbsup

AND you've managed to include The Princess Bride along with The Prince of Thieves, Nice Choices! cheers

My compliments to the story-tellers, the painters, & modelers of the Falme-on Crew. If I can find a big padded envelope & mail myself to Manchester, could I join? I didn't think so. Suspect

Have you added some new pieces to the terrain? There are a couple I don't recall seeing before.

Well spotted Re. The Princess Bride! Wink

There's a new reference to the latest BBC Robin Hood series in there too...

There are a couple of bits of scenery that we've used that aren't technically finished yet... Embarassed

But you know how the gaming takes over... Laughing

zelophahad wrote:: There are a couple of bits of scenery that we've used that aren't technically finished yet... But you know how the gaming takes over...

AMEN, Bro!

Captain Jackson wrote:: Jean-Pierre wasn’t sure how he could move with such energy in his heavy armour, but Geraint bounded into the room.

‘Have you heard!’ he shouted to the men, ‘There is a knight in town, a noble foe at last. We shall joust! Here shall surely be great honour for us all’.

Jean-Pierre asked quietly, ‘Do you know his name, my Lord?’

‘Not yet, but we must, I wonder what blazon he wears. We will find out who this bold warrior is!’

Jean-Pierre slowly limped over and whispered in his ear, and the knight’s expression hardened with alarming speed.

‘Is that so,’ the armoured warrior exclaimed, ‘and he has banded together with the brigands. Well, that makes good sense, does it not? Then they shall die together. There shall be justice, there shall be honour! I pledge myself before the lady that come the end of the week either Le Tenebreux will fall on the field of battle or I shall!’

The men cheered, and Jean-Pierre began to assess what he had heard of the bandits’ skill with a bow. After Geraint had strode out he said, with the steel of experience in his voice, ‘right lads, you hug the cover, take your shots as opportunity presents and close the range. And pray to our Lady like you have never prayed before!

I love the way you portray the Knights as having a somewhat tenuous hold on reality & being a bit slow on the uptake. The rivalry between Will & Robin adds an interesting little twist to the plot as well. I've got to get some pop corn for the next cinematic post. Is Hakim (sp) going to make a appearance Suspect

?

I'm really enjoying the story too! (A lot more than I did the BBC version! Razz

)

Basically, we're all just making stuff up to reflect what happens in (and after) the games and trying to play it 'in character'. I've no idea what's going to happen or who's going to turn up and do what: I don't know whether Will is going to try and usurp Robin. I don't know how Marianne is going to respond when Gallant Gerraint turns up. I'm not even 100% sure who the black knight is yet (...although I have a shrewd idea)!

All I know is that tomorrow The Merrie Men of Chalons are going to lure Gerraint into a trap thanks to the dodgy map one of them left for him to 'find' during exploration after his fight against the orcs. pirat

This REALLY is War Gamining at its VERY BEST: very cool minis, beautiful terrain, exciting battles, AND an evolving story told by several different narrators giving their perspective of the action. It's a living story with all the benefits of a good adventure movie.

You're a GREAT group of VERY CREATIVE guys. I'm truly envious Suspect

. This is an addictive serial. BRAVO! ENCORE! cheers

Very well written, awesome board (I'm so jealious of your painting of the buildings) and great warbands.

Damn this pond of water seperating Manchester form Belfast or i'd be hounding you all for games.

nice writing work indeed! Smile

Very nice to read, good job! Very Happy

What a shame Domingo bought the farm [ Sad

]. I'm not really a Witch Hunter fan; I just thought that Domingo Moriarty WAS a REALLY COOL name.
It seems that REALLY COOL names are a death warrant. Suspect

A taster for the game between zelophahad and Captain Jackson today (that I just watched):

Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy! - Page 2 Image006

Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy! - Page 2 Image006

Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy! - Page 2 Image005

Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy! - Page 2 Image004

Luncheim in Manchester (the Flame On guys) - Pic heavy! - Page 2 Image003

(

I quite like me new phone!)

zelophahad wrote:: The salty wind whistled through the narrow streets of Vercuso, carrying sea spray and the harsh screeches of gulls to the ears of the Bretonian bandits. High up on the old city walls and among the derelict merchant-houses they waited, bows strung and arrows knocked. In the shadow of the arch, the mysterious knight known only as ‘Le Tenebreux’ sat astride his great black warhorse, also waiting. Robin Le Capot’s trap was set.

Presently the clip-clop of hooves on cracked cobbles could be heard echoing from the buildings as a splendidly-equipped knight in red and gold heraldry ambled down the road towards the bandits. At first Sir Geraint appeared to be alone, but it soon became clear that various squires and retainers were scurrying some distance behind him, hugging the cover while trying to keen up with his mighty warhorse.

Without warning, the black knight lowered his lance to the horizontal, drove in his spurs and thundered out from under the arch towards his red and gold adversary. Without hesitation, almost as if he was expecting this, Sir Geraint’s steed leapt forward and the two knights galloped towards each other at a terrifying speed, lances lowered and held steady. The commoners held their breath, for none could fail to be awed by the spectacle.

With a deafening crash the knights met, right where Robin had planned it – in the middle of the circle of archers. Robin knew not to underestimate Sir Geraint’s skills with a lance and was ready to shoot him down should Le Tenebreux be bested.

And the black knight was indeed bested, taking a glancing blow to his face which crumpled his helmet visor in a shower of sparks, but somehow he managed to keep his seat. The knights passed each other and Le Tenebreux desperately wheeled round to face his opponent again. But the blow to his head and the dent in his helm left him helpless. Before he even realised what was happening, Sir Geraint’s lance had shattered into a thousand splinters as it lifted his black-armoured body from his saddle and slammed him into a wall. Le Tenebreux slid onto the ground and lay there, unconscious.

Sir Geraint did not hesitate to follow his second charge through, thundering back towards his retainers and out of the deadly circle of archers.

But the bowmen of Chalons were too quick for him. Even Bretonian bandits respect the Code of the Joust, but no sooner had their champion had been bested, than bows were drawn and arrows loosed. Even as he galloped away, the shafts thudded into Sir Geraint’s back with such force that they lifted him out of his saddle and he crashed to the ground and lay still.

Maddened with despair at their Lord’s fate, the retainers surged towards the bandits. They wanted their revenge for the brigands’ dishonourable butchery, and they wanted to reap it with sword and mace, not bow and arrow. From among the buildings behind them came the sound of the Damsel Jocelyn weeping for the honour of her beloved.

A storm of arrows met them, and though some fell, the bandits were obviously caught off guard by their enemies’ sudden charge and most shots went wide.

Most of the marksmen swiftly descended from their lofty perch, while the sailors who had absconded from Le Sanglier rushed forward to engage their former ship-mates.

The knight’s grizzled old warden hobbled forward to join the fighting, shouting orders at his men, but they needed no encouragement. Their superior weapons and training quickly overwhelmed the impoverished brigands.

But Robin was not one to stand around and watch his men be slaughtered. With a shout he, Jean Le Petit and Will L’Ecarlat charged into the fray while Mademoiselle Marianne, Le Moine Tuc and the swift-shooting Beau Coup provided covering fire.

In the absence of the nobility the confrontation rapidly degenerated into a vicious street brawl, Will laying about himself with his dagger and Robin cutting men down with swift strokes of his flashing sword. Jean, hampered by his injured hand was knocked unconscious before he could really get stuck in, but despite this the bandits soon had the upper hand.

Robin Le Capot had won the day again, although it seemed it had cost him some good men.

AWESOME! That is so rad! Great goodness, you just had a jousting match! Bravo! I absolutely love it.

Great Story, great scenery, the absolute epitome of what Mordheim should be. I applaud you! bounce

zelophahad wrote:

zelophahad wrote:

And I really couldn't help but see that this fountain is a beautiful piece of scenery... but the base is absolutely unneccesary

I LIVE for these stories. Okay, I DON'T have much of a social life, but this is just GREAT Theater. Some of the photos are absolutely Cecil B. De Mille types & add SO MUCH to the story.

Did either of the Knights survive their encounterd? Is Jean Le Petit going to live? You KNOW you've done a good narration when fictional characters start becoming important people in the readers mind. thumbsup

I don't suppose you could work the weekends for more gaming time...I didn't think so: dumb question Suspect

. As Always WELL DONE! cheers

Ashton wrote:: AWESOME! That is so rad! Great goodness, you just had a jousting match! Bravo! I absolutely love it.

If you want a go, here are the jousting rules we came up with:

zelophahad wrote:: 1. When one of the knights declares his 'joust charge' (assuming they're both in vaguely 'appropriate' positions) the other knight will also get an extra charge move towards him (let's say it's his knightly temper or something). This will of course effectively double their charge range, but I don't think that matters.

2. They will meet wherever half way is (depending on how far apart they were when the charge was declared) and strike simultaneously. They may only use their lances and their horses may not attack.

3. Unless unhorsed they will complete their charge move (wheeling to avoid terrain if necessary!), then turn ready to charge again.

4. If unhorsed, the knight follows the normal rules (the 'whoah boy!' table). If one knight stayed mounted but didn't take the other out of action, he must dismount at the end of his charge move and go back on foot to finish-off his opponent. (This means he may or may not have had time to get back on his feet, and may even be able to regain the advantage and steal the second charge!)

5. The knights fight on foot as per the normal rules.

6. From the moment the 'joust charge' is declared, until one of the knights has been taken out of action, no other models may shoot, charge, cast spells etc. at either knight (because they risk their knight's considerable wrath if they do!). But as soon as one is victorious he'd better watch his back! Both warbands are also unable to rout while the joust is taking place.

I've just started doing a commission for a Bretonnian army: Soooo I HAD to try out your rules as a solo thingy. THE RESULT: What a BLAST! thumbsup

The painted Bret [only one done so far: WHO unchained that old fool from the work bench?] was bested by an unpainted one 6 out of 6 tries. Does paint confer some sort of curse? Yet another matter for investigation by the Holy Templars of Blessed Sigmar!

That's very cool DeafNala! We've only used them the once so I've no idea how they'd fair in different cirumstances.

Did you try setting them up at different distances each each time (to vary their overun)? Did you manage to get down to any fighting on foot?

» Shadow and Flame
» Flame On's Scenery
» Hey guys
» Hey guys
» Hey guys