A Grave Matter....

So I got to play a bit of 3rd ed. yesterday which turned a good Bank Holiday Weekend into a great one! Once again Warlord Paul did a fine job of hosting the game and came up with a great little scenario - if you haven't done so, check out the background and victory conditions on his blog.

Here's my take on things...

Toady Rob'imsun shifted uncomfortably in what passed for the saddle lashed carelessly across the rough shoulders of his irritable boar. Bristles had worked their way through the tattered leather and matted cloth and were well on their way to doing the same to the Chief's filthy britches.

This fog didn't help matters either. Made the lads jittery. Especially those lunatic Savages who'd tagged along. Usually the only communication between Rob'imsun's Ty 'Um Teem Tribe and the somewhat backward Paylah Liffik Tribe was a lot of shouting and throwing of rocks. But that had all changed.

It was that Maliss Grobhurtz' fault - the mad old shaman had been worse than usual for the past week, constantly ranting and raving about his visions of some Demon called Jeeyofizz and the treasure it had revealed to him buried in the Dead Place. Fillhar Dring, Shaman and leader of the Paylah Liffiks, had had the same vision, and between them they had bullied and cajoled Rob'imsun into setting out on this treasure hunt.

Now it looked like the boys were having second thoughts. Strange sounds floated up out of the dead valley, drifting like spectres in the mist. Whispered voices snaked sibilantly out of the gloom and ominous creaks and groans emanated from every direction. Even the Shamans had become strangely quiet.

Rob'imsun bristled with a mixture of anticipation at the coming battle and a frisson of fear as Grobhurtz' eyes rolled back and his crooked claw swung round to point down the hillside, in the direction of the ancient relic lying hidden there.

The tramp of bony feet confirmed the Shaman's premonition and as the mists swirled in a sudden eddy of wind, the Orcs got a glimpse of what awaited them in the valley below.

 

The line waivered slightly at the sight of the legion of skeletal warriors drawing up in their ranks on the other side of the shallow valley. But between them lay their prize - buried somewhere in the place of death was the relic Grobhurtz spoke of.

 

Rob'imsun growled his orders and fixed those who had gone a paler shade of green with his best stern gaze to keep them in line. With a braying of horns and the crash of drum and mailed boot, the Orc line advanced into the gloom.

 

 On the right the Hobhounds dashed forward along with the main column of Orc warriors. To their left came a unit of Spear armed Orcs and the warriors of the Paylah Lifficks, led by the Savage Orc Shaman, Fillhar Dring. Alongside them, wrinkling his nose at the fusty smell wafting up out of the valley, the Giant, Mick Vast'un, strode forwards. Anchoring the centre was Rob'imsun himself and a regiment of heavily armoured Orcs. Grobhurtz and a unit of Orc Archers made up the left flank.

 



The two sides marched steadily forwards towards each other, when suddenly a terrifying apparition tore through the mist and into the main Orc column. The savage appearance of a Chimera was too much for them, despite their great numbers and they turned tail and fled. As they ran the beast gave chase, filling the air with the terrible screams of those who didn't flee fast enough!

Over on the far left, the archers flexed their bow strings but their quarry was just out of range. In the centre red eyes narrowed and glared at the unseeing sockets of their Undead foes as the two armies stood poised for the charge...

And that's all for now folks as its getting late!

Stay tuned for the next exciting instalment...