Oldhammer Aftermath

I had a fantastic weekend at Bring Out Your Lead 2014 and took the opportunity to put faces to (forum) names, view some absolutely beautiful armies and get some old-fashioned gaming done. This was my first time going as I didn't even know about the Oldhammer community this time last year and I couldn't have been more impressed with the venue, the organisation and the friendliness of the attendees.

But first and foremost, a big thank-you to Harry and Paul for getting me to and from the event, I couldn't have been there without their help.

For those who don't know, this year Bring Out Your Lead was hosted by Foundry at their new premises in Stoke Hall. They very kindly provided a marquee for us to play under, lots of tables both inside and outside, hot food, cold drinks and access to their shop for all three days. 

One of four rooms they had full of blister packs. Just imagine the battles you could have with all of them...

The Clash at the Crags - Part Three

The Wolves skulked back onto the battlefield with heads down and tails between their legs. They made their way, many of them limping with blood staining their matted fur, back to where they were routed and their pack leader lay dead, his head caved in by a mighty blow from Fergus’ human champion. They howled mournfully over the lifeless body.

As the howling began to reach a climax the old, dead wolf started to twitch and writhe. There were loud cracks as its bones began to snap and reform themselves. Its muscles and sinews began unwinding and reshaping, mass being added by some diabolic power. Its caved skull mended, spines and bony plates sprouted from its back and sickle-like growths sprouted from newly formed tails. The wolf-thing rose shakily up on all fours, now much bigger than its companions, and released a gut-wrenching bellow loud enough to panic the Skaven who were busy looting the dead nearby. Gorehowl had risen.

The Big Red Monster

The Clash at the Crags - Part Two

The Armies

The forces of Khorne (commanded by myself)

• Dorrin Blissbane - Dwarf 10 Hero with Chaos Weapon 'Lustdrinker'
• Melondil Nightnoon - Dark Elf 5 Hero 
• Marta Hartmann - Human 10 Hero
• Hermann Foerster - Beastman Champion
• 7 Beastmen - Light armour and shields
• 7 Skaven - Light armour, shields and spears
• 8 Humans - Bows and light armour
• 8 Levy Humans - Spears
• 6 Giant Wolves

Dorrin with retinue and Marta leading the village militia

The retinue of Fergus (commanded by Fimm)

• Fergus - Fimir 5 Hero with Chaos Weapon
• 5 Fianna Fimm - Light armour
• 6 Shearl
• 10 Humans - Shields
• 5 Witch Elves - Additional hand weapons and poison

Fergus & Co.

The Clash at the Crags - Part One

Well, Fimm and I didn't manage to continue our campaign at the Expo as expected so instead the much-delayed next chapter was played out this week.

Prologue

Slowly the village folk unbarred their doors and started emerging from their homes and hovels, their sense of curiosity outweighing their fear now that the fighting appeared to be over. The Beastmen had started dragging the dead Fimm to the centre of the village and began to create a pyre whilst the Skaven busied themselves tending the wounded.

Proof that my photography skill needs work.

The Battle of Otten Village - Part 3

Suddenly everything had fallen quiet, the last frantic blows of the battle had been struck and all that was left to do was count the dead.

In total I had four Skaven, three Beastman and one of the Trolls knocked out, but luckily every one of my models recovered with only minor injuries. Fred, the bull-headed Beastman, had an eye injury which reduces his Ballistic Skill (oh no!) and the yellow Troll, who has been named Nars, suffered a broken nose. Given the description of a nose injury in the book, I am less than worried:

"The character's nose is smashed in and looks really awful. This doesn't affect the game, but the Champion's youthful looks are ruined forever."

Lars and Nars. Due to this injury, Lars is now considered the 'pretty' one.

The Battle of Otten Village - Part 2

The Battle

No fluff today, just battle report goodness. You can find the introduction and army lists in part one.

Turns 1 to 3
The fimir won the dice roll to move first and we were off. My opponent did not hold back in the slightest as the fimm warriors moved into the centre, no doubt hoping to hold up the beastmen and skaven whilst Fergus and his retinue of fianna fimm (their elite troops) start swinging around the flank. The door to the house is on the far side from them and they wanted to get some captives whilst the chaos forces were distracted.

Dorrin's band moved in towards the middle of the battlefield also hoping to flank the fimm regiment with one of the units and wipe them out quickly. There wasn't much excitement in the first few turns as the trolls repeatedly fail to show up, they were too busy contemplating the meaning of the universe whilst picking their noses probably. Melondil shot with his crossbow, hit despite the swirling mists, but failed to cause a wound. This would be a recurring theme of the game for him.

Turn 3 - Jostling for position - also in shot is some fine tape measuring action.

The Battle of Otten Village - Part 1

This week I played my first game of Warhammer Fantasy in over three years, and my first of 3rd edition in much longer than that, with Fimm McCool. No doubt we both made a lot of mistakes and we played a little fast and loose with the rules but a great time was had. Read on for an introduction to the battle.

Prologue

A woman came screaming and stumbling through the woods, almost blundering straight into Dorrin "Help us, help us! The deamon-fiends - we can't hold them off!" She took a look at who she had run into and she fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. An angry, winged dwarf with a retinue of beast-things were not who she was hoping to come across.

Dorrin was about to tell the woman to be gone as he had more important things to do, there were still Slaaneshi worshippers to run down after all, but the whisper told him to stop and consider her. "Were her people not like him," the whisper said "unable to return to their homes, their families murdered? Would they not also desire vengeance and relish spilling the blood of their tormentors?" Dorrin thought on this for a moment then walked over to the woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Aye lass, we'll help you - take us to your home."

She looked up at him and the surrounding company, considered her options and decided the they were favourable to the marauding deamonfolk. After all, aren't dwarves meant to be good, and there was an elf too, aren't elves meant to be kind? She'd never met either an Elf or a Dwarf before and she wondered if all dwarves have wings, or maybe only those that live above ground like this one. Certainly all the folk tales she knew suggested that both dwarf and elf were benevolent, so she stood up, dusted herself down and - being unsure how to address a dwarf - did a curtsey. "My Lord my name is Marta, Otten lies this way, please hurry." 

Classic Warhammer - lining up to fight at a jaunty angle.

TBoaC - Part 3 - Beastman Unit Complete!

I have to say, I'm quite enjoying Realms of Chaos and this whole 'small units' thing, it makes me feel like I'm actually making progress. That is a novelty for sure!

Here's a shot of the whole Scab Moon Clan as it stands - apologies for it still being a bit blurry in places, I'm still working on my photo skills:

The Scab Moon Clan

The Birth of a Champion - Part 2

I'm sorry that there were no pictures last time, I promise that it won't happen (very often) again!

Dorrin wandered the Old World for many a night, when awake he would slay all the abominations he came across and when he managed to snatch some sleep he would hear whispers in his nightmares. He was promised redemption, honour and even a glorious death if only he would follow the voice. There were promises of worthy foes, more of those that slew his brothers in arms. What more could one who has taken the Oath wish for than this chance to settle such a grudge?

His nightmares started to bleed across into the real world, he would dream of his skin turning to stone, of wings erupting from his back and the world drowning in blood. When he woke he'd find some of these things to be true. The voice told him that these changes would help him overcome his foes. 

One evening, still drunk with rage after all these days, he stumbled into a clearing in a great forest and instinctively knew that this was the place the voice in the night had guided him to. In the middle of this clearing was a great standing stone covered in fetishes and grisly trophies. Surrounding it was a braying herd of beastmen worshippers of Slaanesh. Dorrin gripped his axe tight, roared aloud and charged in, hacking left and right. To his surprise his battle cry was echoed from the far side of the clearing as another group of beasts answered his call and committed to battle also.

The fight was brief and violent. After but a few minutes all that remained were Dorrin and a small herd of Beastmen all in red, gold and dirty metal lead by an Elf wielding a glaive. As one they knelt down and pledged their allegiance to him, their new champion. Dorrin understood and accepted. With an army behind him he would seek revenge on the forces of the Pleasure God. 

Blood will pay for blood.

Melondil Nightnoon

The Birth of a Champion

Dorrin opened his eyes and looked around, blood ran down his face and his ears rang. There had been an explosion, as if a keg of gunpowder had detonated beside him. He tried to remember what had happened to him. 

His caravan had been set upon by Beastmen, his kin had been cut down as they fought back to back. The Beasts were led by a horror, a walking nightmare, a deamonette. Tall and sleek, the arms and tail of a sea monster, a featureless face and a single breast exposed. Disgusting and alluring at the same time, a perverted being.

Dorrin and the daemon had fought, axe to claw, as the other dwarves were butchered, until he stood alone. The combat seemed to last forever, the beastmen turned and watched, baying for blood. Dorrin knew he couldn't win as the deamonette tireless wore him down before finally imapling him through the shoulder with a slender, razor sharp claw, her face close to his, she hissed in delight. 

Dorrin closed his eyes and swung his axe wildly one last time with all his remaining strength and struck home. He split the deamonette clean in two, it's magical life essence spraying out. There was a flash of light, what sounded like a thunderclap and the air reeked of sulfur. He blacked out.