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

Great Stuff. Love the pics and the story.

zelophahad wrote:

Le Moine Tuc gritted his teeth as he looked out across ruined marina. There on a floating jetty just a few yards away was the precious fragment of the Bloodfane dropped by the orc he had just shot. The shard of magical stone was surely worth at least a fistful of much-needed gold coins. All it would take was a small jump over the water onto the boardwalk and it’d be his!



But across the water he could also make out the unmistakable form of the tentacled beast known in these parts as ‘Slippery Jack’. The monster didn’t appear to have noticed him yet but he knew that should he slip and end up in the drink those tentacles would be heading his way at great speed!



‘Go on – you lard-bucket!’ shouted Jean Le Petit behind him, ‘I’ve got you covered!’

Le Moine Tuc gulped, gritted his teeth and prepared to jump…

* * *

‘Cover me!’ shouted Will L’Ecarlat as he hurled himself down the ladder and across the rotten floorboards. His target was the chunk of Bloodfane in the next house down the street, but he was painfully aware that it was also the target of two very large, very fierce-looking orcs.


The marksmen in the ruins behind and above him were pouring arrows into the orcs, knocking them off their feet as they tried to clamber up the ladders to the prize. The archers’ efforts were certainly having some effect, but the orcs kept getting up again! Will knew he would be quicker up the ladder to the magical fragment but he also knew that if either of the greenskins were still standing when he got there, he’d be fishfood…

* * *


‘Get it!’ barked Le Tenebreux, and the three former sailors instinctively obeyed the black knight, just as if they were his serfs back home in Bretonnia. They crept into the ruined warehouse where the fragment of Bloodfane was lying in the dirt. The huge orc shaman was on the floor by the table, writhing in pain and trying to remove the arrow sticking out of his groin.

Despite the men’s stealth, the shaman’s octopus-crowned head turned towards them as they approached, and his beady red eyes glowed with malice. Even as one of the men snatched up the precious shard of stone, the orc rose to his hands and knees and started shouting his strange chant…

* * *

With a blinding flash and a deafening roar that shook the very ground, the storm started without warning. Lethal hail stones the size of cannonballs thundered out of the sky, crashing through the ruins and sending both men and orcs sprinting for cover.

The shaman stopped in mid chant and the ex-sailors seized the moment and dashed out of the warehouse clutching their prize. Across the street, both Will and his greenskin rivals abandoned their prize to the elements. And down by the harbour one particularly large hailstone smashed into the jetty, clipping the fragment of Bloodfane which skittered off across the boards and into the water with an inaudible plop.

This day, the only winner was the weather.

(We suddenly noticed Saul's lunchbreak had come to an end, so we called it a draw and kept the wyrdstone/bloodfane counters we'd picked up at the point - i.e. two for me.)

YET ANOTHER GREAT MOMENT OF MINI DRAMA!

Very entertaining narrative, AND exceptionally nice photos; these show off how REALLY beautiful the water effect turned out. The BIG QUESTION: Did Slippery Jack eat the Bloodfane shard, AND, if so is he now SLIPPERY JACK ?

Storm Warning

The Halibuteers lurked in the dim light with a closed lantern, waiting to reply to signal lights out in the bay that would indicate the cutter had returned.

"I don't like the look of them clouds" said Murlok the Shaman. The ominous sky hung low and dark over the port of Vercuso. Thick swirling clouds scudded across the heavens and threatened bloody murder as night fell.

"Arrr" said Kod, preoccupied by the flint-lock of his new handgun.

"I can't see the cutter coming in tonight – they'll stand off with the ship in the roads till tomorrow, I'll wager " said Hadduk after another hour of fruitless waiting. "Let's get back to the pub".









As the Fishmen set off from the waterfront they spotted a couple of shards of Bloodfane stone and moved to collect them but as they did something moved in the gloom. As Hake ran down the jetty to fetch the nearest shard three arrows whistled past him, thudding into the wooden boards beneath his feet. He sprang back and started to turn towards the quay-side but before he got three paces a fourth arrow caught him in the side and he fell, dropping the valuable stone on the timbers.

Kod took three Boyz into the line of ruined houses on the left side of the street and they sprinted forwards, diving between shattered walls in an effort to stay out of sight. Makrul took up a firing position in cover while Hadduk, Murlok and the rest forged straight ahead towards the fountain and the Warehouse. Dagon the Troll was goaded and cajoled along in front of them; creating a moving wall of Troll-flesh to shield the Halibuteers from Outlaw arrows!









Several of the Fishmen with Kod got carried away and bowled forwards through the broken timbers and fallen beams towards the hidden Outlaws. They had no plan beyond getting closer to them, no thought of how they would get to the upper floors. Kod and his mate had slightly more sense and raced up a ladder to get the shard of stone in the attic of the Sailmaker's shop but both were punished for their impunity by a hail of arrows.













Murlok stormed into the Warehouse and scooped up the stone – to his magic-sensitive eyes it glowed like a burning coal. As he turned to leave three Bretonnian peasants burst though the open door firing a volley of arrows at such close range the heads of the arrows were nearly touching the Shaman before they were loosed. Murlok went down with the crude words of a spell spitting from between gritted teeth.













~ ~ ~

"Damn the weather in this place!" muttered Hadduk into his pint of grog "the sky has no right being so heavy and black in the middle of summer… And so far south! I never known a night like it."

The Halibuteers nodded in sullen agreement, several of them nursing bruises from hurtling hailstones.

"And damn the eyes of those Outlaws and their drivel-swaggering longbows!"

At this point Makrul looked up and said "Aye Kap'n, they'll always have the weather-gauge of us 'till we can close and board 'em. Why don't we get some more ordinance, so to speak, so we can do a little harm on the way in?"

~ ~ ~

TWO EPISODES IN ONE DAY, I'VE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN!
After a quick check of vital signs, I'm still here & Heaven isn't really in the cards anyway .
It's cool getting both sides of the encounters. The different perspectives & writing styles enhance the story. Speaking of perspective the varied angles of the photos give different perspectives on the scenics. I keep noticing things I hadn't before AND there definitely seem to be some additions to the neighborhood.
Do you guy accept Associate In Absentia Members [whining sounds]?

Addendum: THE MOST AMAZING THING about the gaming table, considering this is LUNCHeim, is the total absence of empty pizza boxes, burger wrappings, soda bottles, and other signs of civilization.

Waldorf Kleev knew not where he was, or why, but he knew he was no longer human. His right forearm was a mosaic of crystallised flesh, jutting with spines and rivets and open wounds. His left was more dramatic. No longer did he have fingers or a palm or anything resembling a hand; instead the appendage ended in a nest of wiry tentacles, dotted with suckers, each one a tiny, hissing maw. What changes had racked the rest of his body he did not think, dared not touch his grotesque limbs to his face for fear of what he might feel.

“Whurt ham hi?” he rasped. He groaned. Why was his speech so slurred? What manner of madness had warped his mouth: a bloated tongue? A deciduous windpipe? Atrophied vocal chords? He roared, pushed against the wet cobbles with his glass hand, sprang to his feet. There it was, there was the power. His legs were strong and taut as iron, muscles pulled tight like bowstrings. He almost somersaulted over himself, such was the force of them. He landed, wavered a moment, and then collapsed into a heap.

This new body would take some getting use to.

And then it hit him like a wave. Where was his lord, where was Sigmar? No longer could he hear the voice of his god, the whispering council in his ear.

“Whurr arr ooo!” he wailed to the heavens. He slammed his hands to his temples, and the pain came instantly. He had forgotten the state of his new hands. The razor edged crystals dashed his skull, blood slicked down. But there was no death, no lancing pain of glass perforating his brain, only a dull crack and a chink of ivory came away. So, then, the same sorcery as had warped his flesh had made his bone as thick as plate-mail. And his master was gone, to be replaced by, yes, he remembered now – that featureless, crimson face, that tortured, gasping voice – and he sobbed. His new master now.

He rose again on those powerful legs, stumbled forward into the night, talons clacking on the stones. Was that a feather jutting from his knee? There would be time to study his new form later, but for now he fled. No doubt the hunters were still on his trail.

The Badly Painted Beast That Was Once Waldorf Kleev

Well written guys. Absolutely great. You guys totally need to compile all of this great narration into a book. Seriously.

Keep up the great writting guys... and let me know when your book hits the shelves.

COOL STORY, Sizzling Gromril!

Taking things from a Possessed/Spawn's point of view is unique; & you pulled it off wonderfully. I CAN identify with Waldorf [didn't he used to be a Muppet?]; when I look in the mirror I often wonder what happened to me; then I remember getting: OLD .

Dont't be so hard on your painting; I know a couple of folks who would kill to have their minis turn out that nicely. I LIKE the way Old Waldorf turned out: excellent choice of colors, especially the purple hair. Just a bit of highlighting would turn it from a good to a great mini. WELL DONE!

Addendum: Will the son of Domingo Moriarty make an appearance? "I am Inigo Moriarty. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

Thanks for the kind words, guys.

DeafNala wrote:

Addendum: Will the son of Domingo Moriarty make an appearance? "I am Inigo Moriarty. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

Somebody's offspring will make an appearance. Not saying who's though.

Sizzling Gromril wrote:

Thanks for the kind words, guys.

DeafNala wrote:

Addendum: Will the son of Domingo Moriarty make an appearance? "I am Inigo Moriarty. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

Somebody's offspring will make an appearance. Not saying who's though.

COOL, I LOVE surprises!

You most definitely have a feel for the gritty, dark, & brooding side of Mordheim. Very nicely written narrative. I've already developed a fondness for Errol; he reminds me of Terry Pratchett's Cohen the Barbarian. Bravo again!

DeafNala wrote:

You most definitely have a feel for the gritty, dark, & brooding side of Mordheim. Very nicely written narrative.:

So true, so true, just fabulous!

Very inspiring words, guys. Thankyou.

The idea behind Errol came from the fact that my warband is so poor they can afford to buy a witch hunter, but sadly there aren't any pennies left for equipment. A 'naked' witch hunter, if you will.

At least he would have a dagger.

Hah, yes. I wonder where he would hide it.

@ SG....LOL..I don't know and I don't think I would want to know.

Sharpe Shooters and Squamous Squabblers



Seagulls circled and squawked in the clear blue sky and the sun shone down on the Halibuteers. Unknown to the Orcs the warm rays made them especially stinky, the odour of rotting fish wafted across the shattered town towards the harbour. Kap'n Hadduk looked up at Kod and Makrul, the Orc Big'Unz stationed in the broke rooftop of the old Pie Shop. Makrul pointed out towards the distant clock tower, held up four fingers, then pointed towards the waterfront and held up five fingers.

Hadduk shifted the weight of his fish-corpse headgear with a shrug. He knew four fingers from Makrul meant four enemy warriors but he was never sure if five fingers meant there were five enemy, or many more than five… it mattered little though, the Halibuteers were is good spirits today. He gave up on stealth and called up, "What do they look like?"

"Sigmarites with big dogs" yelled Makrul in reply.







The Big'Unz hunched down into cover and aimed their muskets from the glassless windows. Hadduk shouted at Dagon the Troll to get moving and warband advanced into the town square. Or at least most of them did: a couple of fights broke out at the back and Guppy the Goblin got particularly offended by something Trowt the Orc said and broke the FishBoy's knees with his club, then beat the poor Orc's head to a mushy, bloody pulp!











Kutfroat scampered up a ladder and grabbed the fragment of Bloodfane stone from the upper floor. Hake and Pike left a couple of Goblins thumping each other and dashed along behind the old city wall, hoping to out flank the Witch Hunters.











Keeping Dagon between himself and the Witch Hunters, Hadduk grabbed the shard of stone from the plinth of the statue in the town square. The double-boom of handgun fire echoed overhead and blue-grey smoke drifted from the pie shop's roof: a Witch Hunter armed with a crossbow slumped down behind the Clock Tower wall.





Marlin the Stupid forgot what he was doing and stood and dribbled for a bit. Seeing their chance the Warrior Priest and a Zealot charged at him. Shocked back into the real world Marlin tried to fend off their assaults and brought his cutlasses down on the Priest's head, flooring him. A Zealot charged into Marlin, desperate to save the Priest from the Fishman's murderous blade. A great growling mass of muscle, teeth and saliva leapt onto Marlin the Stupid. Kap'n Hadduk rushed to Marlin's aid as the FishBoy fell with the dog's jaws locked on his forearm. Hadduk deftly hacked the Zealot's legs from under him.





Murlok sprinted into the archway under the City Wall Tavern and slammed to a halt against its weathered stone. He peered around the corner muttering the words of power that would summon the Flames of Gork. In too much of a hurry he mispronounced them the first time and just singed his own nose. The second time he tried two great lances of green fire screeched across the cobbles and incinerated the prone Warrior Priest!









Pike skidded round the corner of the Tavern and spotted a Zealot paying far too much attention to Dagon, who had just been charged by a Witch Hunter bearing a flaming torch. The Zealot couldn't work up the bravery required to attack the Troll and he paid for his reluctance with his life; Pike jumped him from behind and smashed his cutlass into the poor man's head. Dagon brought his Troll-club down with the sickening sound of breaking bone and pulped flesh and the Witch Hunter dropped in a torrent of his own blood.









When Hadduk looked round the dogs were fleeing, yelping into the distance. The rest of the Witch Hunters were unconscious or dead. The Halibuteers collected up the spoils and left the men to bleed in the sun.

The seagulls circled lower.

Thanks for the Report WBK!
Your group's reports are always a delight to read. The narration always makes me smile. There is enough material for a whole series of action movies in this thread

The "street level" pic of your table is absolutely cool!

HOORAY FOR OUR SIDE!

That was SO COOL! The most evocative moment was the description of the aroma waifing from the Fishmen's costumes under the Broiling rays of the sun; probably could cause gag reactions in vultures & hyenas. Your writing style REALLY suits the straight forward view point of the Orks. WELL DONE; an enjoyable read & WONDERFUL photos!

i really feel sorry for the poor witch hunters... they were just burning their dead an nursing their wounds when we last heard of them and now they got beaten up AGAIN. perhaps they should better return to some remote village and simply burn the odd witch

(if they are still able to travel, that is)

Clock Tower Blockade

Kap'n Hadduk smacked Dagon the Troll on the back with the flat of his sword, lashed out with a boot towards Marlin the Stupid and shouted till he was horse at both of them but neither took much notice. Sighing he peered round the corner of the Revenue House's wall to see hat the rest of the Halibuteers were up too.



A cold wind whirled the first fallen leaves of the year in spirals and grey clouds scudded overhead as the Fishmen scuttled through the ruins towards the clock tower. About half a dozen Dark Elven corsairs lurked in the wreck of a building, raining crossbow bolts down on the Halibuteers with frightening rapidity. With a vague plan to storm the building sketched out the Orcs had a fairly good idea of what to do with his orders and since the Troll was resolutely ignoring threats, promises, intimidation and coercion he wasn't able to take part in the action much so far.

He saw the Dark Elf leader – Mallus, the so called High Born – aiming a complicated crossbow from the upstairs of the Cod and Cutlass. He readied his own crude crossbow and carefully aimed: A single shot arced across the town square and slammed into the Elf's shoulder, its force span him round and dropped him out of sight. Hadduk chalked another tally line on the side of his bow.

~ ~ ~



Makkrul's face was lit up with an orange glow as he blew gently on the match cord of his prized handgun. He leaned against the plinth of a statue and looked along the barrel of his gun: in the window he could see a Dark Elf shooting down at the gaggle of Goblins pushing each other around to be first up a ladder leaning against the wall of the clock tower. He squeezed the lever and a plume of blue-grey smoke erupted from the touch-hole with a "ffft!" followed a fraction of a second later by a satisfyingly deep boom and a larger cloud of smoke. When it cleared Makkrul cursed – the Dark Elf was still standing and still shooting. The Fishman Big'Un ran across the street into the cover of the Wall Tavern to reload.

~ ~ ~







Murlok pounded along the street, dodged through the arches of a coaching inn and ran across Fountain Square, accompanied by quarrelsome Fishmen (who did more harm to one-another than the Dark Elves managed). As he got under the eves of the Cod and Cutlass Inn he saw a Witch Elf crouched behind a glassless window in the clock tower. He summoned the power of the Waaagh! and blasted her from her hiding place with two jets of green fire.

~ ~ ~

Kod ran up the stairs two at a time, emerging into the open at the top of the flight and feeling somewhat exposed – the Dark Elves in the clock tower opposite could see straight across into his position now! Luckily they were few in number and were distracted by the Grots swarming up the ladder and into the floor above them. Kod kept his head down and scuttled to the back of the room, stuffing the big piece of Wrydstone he found there into his bag. Once it was secure he looked to his handgun, squinting through his one good eye he tried in vain to find an angle that he could see an enemy fighter.

~ ~ ~



Minno, Guppy and Chum pushed and shoved each other each wanting to be the first up the ladder. Arrows clattered on the cobbles around them but they cared little. They all wanted the admiration and respect of the Halibuteers for being the first into the fight (little knowing that the only honour it would win them was a cuff round the ear or a boot in the head!). Guppy prevailed and darted up, closely followed by Chum. Minno was shot dead with one foot on the ladder. When they got to the top they found themselves wracked with pain by the evil powers of the Sorceress and charged by a Corsair. After flailing away at each other for several seconds a Goblin (in a panic caused by the magical pain) managed to get a lucky hit on the Elf and floored him.

~ ~ ~



As the Halibuteers encircled the occupied building (and nabbed a second bit of Wyrdstone from the Cultist's House) the Dark Elves saw that, with their leader unconscious and a horde of fish-flesh-covered Orcs approaching fast, discretion really was called for over valour and the fell back from the Fishy onslaught, taking a single bit of Wyrdstone with them.

~ ~ ~

Cool report WBK!
Thanks for uploading yet another great read.

@ 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!

PRAISE BE TO GORK OR MORK OR POSSIBLY MAUDE! WE'VE [actually you've ] DONE IT AGAIN!

Great Battle Report, Fantastic Photos, AND serves those Pointy Eared Perverts right! Actually, I didn't realize there were any Mordheim Dark Elves, but, then again there ARE A LOT of things I don't realize .

http://www.mordheimer.com/warbands/unofficial/dark_elves.htm