Ghoul Interrupted

A while back VoodooInk (another fellow LAF'er) kindly asked me to review his rather fine wargame rules set - Havoc! so that's what I did (or have started doing). Interesting set of rules with some nice ideas for activations, combat and special characters - more of which later... oh and the rule book itself - lovely!

As the game's only just got going I thought I'd outline the scenario and opposing forces -

The band of weary Norse raiders trudged disconsolatley away from yet another deserted hamlet. They had been dogged by bad luck since landing on the mainland - fields were already razed, villages empty and those that weren't had been strangely relieved that it was "[b]only[/b] the Norse coming!"

Erik Erikson was not a happy raider - someone had beat them to it - someone scarier than him and his band of wild warriors...


As the Northmen led their rather meagre mule train down the road back in the direction of the coast, a sudden chill seemed to creep through the air. Only Snorrison the Bard didn't notice, engrossed as he was in yet another inebriated balad. The others all felt the hair rise on the backs of their necks - magic was afoot!


Meanwhile in a nearby ruined monastery, Baron Kraust began the penultimate verse in his grim song of the dead - once it was complete his undead army would be strengthened twofold. His unearthly followers danced and cackled at the swelling of necromantic energies, while two ogres, who had followed the wake of destruction the Baron had wreaked across the land, fed the last of the prisoners to a snarling manticore.


Yet all was not well... the baron hissed with rage as his concentration was broken by a rather ribald and slurred drinking song which drifted over the crumbling ruins. Swearing death and damnation on the interlopers the Baron swung a bony finger in the direction of the nearby coastal road, and in a voice that echoed with a deathly malevolence he intoned,


"Leave none alive..."



Objectives -

Norse - reach the far end of the table with as much loot intact - preferably still on the pack mules!

Undead - Kill, kill, kill!

The Forces - (I've recycled a few pics from my other posts so apologies if you've already seen them!)

Norse -

Erik Erikson - (Champion of Eriksey)

Snorrison the Bard (or should that be barred?! Musician)

Dolf Hamrison - The Blade (Fencer - duel weapons)

 

Bruni Baegseg - (The Berserker!)

Sundafyllir the Shaman - (Magus)

Hroarr Sveinbjorn - (the Basher)

 

Arved - Treeman

Bruni Bersi - archer

Halfred Shortwick

Anghered the Angry

Brandr the Blue

Grimwald Hollison

Egil Ekbert

Knutr Onundr

Sindr Sverrir (on a recent trip to Lustria!)

Undead -
Baron Kraust

Khleg the Executioner

 

Horg - Ogre

Fellinae - manticore

The big one - bone giant

 

The Spectre

The skeleton horde

I hope to finish the game, take some nice pics and get a writeup done by Friday...

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to work we go...

With a bucket and spade and a bloody great hammer!

Well the project rumbles ever onward and I have another unit under the belt! After a fairly intense few evenings of batch painting (don't think I missed any scabbards!) Ozrim Chardz's Engineers are ready to defend Orc's Drift...

Its taken a while to put these little fellas together - sappers seem to go a bit above what I want to pay on ebay so I got what I could and bulked out the unit with a few other chaps. Thanks go to a couple of fellow LAF'ers for helping me out here - more of which later...

So first up is Ozrim with his standard and drummer -

 I'm much obliged to Phreedh (one of the aforesaid LAF'ers), who not only supplied some fine crossbow dwarfs for the Ashak Rise deserters, but also this excellent standard bearer amd drummer for Osrim's lot - cheers mate! 

One or three of the actual sappers I managed to lay my hands on!

Lovely minis these - I'll have to get making mealie bags and makeshift barricades to do them justice!

Some fighters next - either went for a similar helmet to fit in with the sappers or at least an engineery weapon when acquiring them -

And to finish the unit off - another sapper, a ballista loader (well they're engineers too - and the orcs don't like a Ballista bolt up 'em!) and another big thankyou to Rob, also of the LAF! He sent me the very nice, if angry fellow on the right - the dwarf from one of the old Citadel Dungeon Adventurer starter sets. Thanks also for sending the little halfling archer from the same set for the Linden Way militia (only need the knights, gnome, elf mage and ranger to make the set up now - wink, wink!). Happily the Dwarf's original mace was lost back in the mists of time so I gave him an old plastic Space Ork shovel I had lying around and he fits in nicely with the other mud-pushers!

Smile for the group shot!

Patients is a virtue...

So back to Orc's Drift after a few distractions of an undead nature...

After scouring ebay for wounded and dying minis (a cheerful pursuit!) I have finally assembled enough poor souls for Ferndale Snart's field hospital in Orc's Drift! Can't believe I didn't think to look for wounded dwarfs and elves though to represent the three allies defending Palesandre!

Either way Ferndale's hospital is complete and I think that calls for a nice groupshot!

Loads of fun to paint - especially because they all have their eyes closed! Even tried my hand at a bit of modelling and sculpted (I use the term very tenuously!) some stretchers for them - should Ferndale persuade any of the defenders of Orc's Drift to leave their posts and help him evacuate his wards...

First to be admitted is Sir Malahed - a noble knight of the order of the Grand League. This brave warrior fell at the hands of a huge troll whilst holding back the advancing Goblin tribes around Ortar - taking a brutal blow to the head, Sir Malahed bought enough time for his brothers-in-arms to gallantly leg it in order to fight another day.

During the same engagement Lars Brett, a swordsman of the 2nd Ortar Volunteers, also lay badly wounded. With his regiment beleagured on all sides and the retreat ringing in his ears, Lars stood and fought only to be brought down by a cruel goblin scimitar.

Dumbledern an apprentice mage, called early from his studies at the college in Merlinas, also met his match in the struggle against the goblins. Seeing the destruction wrougt by the evil magic of the cackling shaman facing him, Dumbledern attempted to halt the onslaught by engaging him in a battle of minds. Sadly for the apprentice he was not ready for such an opponent and has remained in an uneasy coma ever since...

Lastly and by no means least is Laceras, a warrior of one of the hill tribes that dwell in the mountains above Kachas Pass. Seeing the danger posed by the Goblin attack many of these hardy mountain men have flocked to the Grand League's aid. Laceras acquitted himself well in battle - working himself into a bloody frenzy he dispatched no less than twelve of the green vermin before a curved and rusty blade opened him up. Unaware of the grievous wound, Laceras fought on until the fight was done and he finally collapsed from blood loss. His ox-like constitution certainly saved him that day and even now, slipping in and out of consciousness, he deliriously calls for meat and ale to assuage his terrible hunger!

Will these brave men escape a second doom at the hands of the Kwae Karr orcs? Will Ferndale Snart stay sober enough to tend to their wounds?

One thing is for certain - being a patient has one virtue - in their unconscious states they are blissfully unaware of the green tide that yet creeps towards them, while the dwarfs and elves who crouch behind their make-shift barricades know all too well the fate that will befall fair Palesandre should their last stand fail...

When Hell is full...

... the Dead will walk the Earth!

More plastic goodness from the old Citadel skeleton army. Got bits and pieces for a load more warriors, a few archers and cavalry, although I'm still lamenting the loss of the chariot!

Pretty quick paint jobs on these as I should really be concentrating on Orc's Drift - 5 weeks of holidays to get the painting done and the games played!

... and the obligatory battle scene!

Disdain sanity and scholarship, the loftiest attributes man has been given...

And so the devil has you
And your soul is infallibly lost...
 
 

 
This is the woeful tale of what was once a man named Kraust.
 
A cruel and avaricious man, Kraust was Baron to a small fiefdom in the Western part of Ramalia. Dissatisfied by his inept and arbitrary rule the common folk also had good reason to fear him. As greedy as he was for material riches, Kraust was obsessed with the notion of hoarding life itself. With each night the air around his black tower hummed with evil magic and unnatural energies as he dabbled with necromancy and the Black Arts. 
 
The ceremonies grew more and more depraved until the peasants, driven by terror and desperation, gathered as a mob and marched on Kraust's residence. Pre-occupied with his studies, Kraust only became aware of the revolt as the flames licked at the door of his sanctum. Running for his life he escaped with terrible burns with only his robe about him.
 
He fled into the forest and wandered for days, cold, wet and hungry. Madness descended on him as he felt the life ebb away. Stumbling into a clearing, his last reserves of strength spent, Kraust lay down to die, alone and wretched.
 
Hours later he came to, a sybilent and insistent voice whispering in his head... 
 
Poor son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone

Have led thy life, bereft of me?
I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure;
Thy fancy's rickets plague thee not at all:
Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure,
Walked thyself off this earthly ball.
Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking,
Sit'st thou, as 'twere an owl a-blinking?
Why suck'st, from sodden moss and dripping stone,
Toad-like, thy nourishment alone?
A fine way, this, thy time to fill!
A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains!
In night and dew to lie upon the mountains;
All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating;
Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating;
To grub with yearning force through Earth's dark marrow,
Compress the six days' work within thy bosom narrow,--
To taste, I know not what, in haughty power,
Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower,
Thine earthly self behind thee cast,
And then the lofty instinct, thus at last,
 to pluck the final flower!

Driven on by the voice Kraust staggered on until he came to a low mound. A ragged opening scowled at him as he approached the dread dark within. Once inside a hideous strength seemed to fill him, the voice grew louder, urging him on. Before him lay a long dead warrior clad in macabre armour. Bones encased its head and upper body, forming a terrifying visage. With hands he no longer controlled, Kraust reached out and with near skeletal fingers placed the gruesome helm on his head.

The voice ceased and then continued with renewed vigour. He screamed as the helm seemed to fuse with the very flesh of his gaunt face. The pain was mixed with elation as knowledge coursed through his brain - his studies of arcane books was immediately eclipsed as his head became filled with chaos.

And so was born the scourge of Mevion. Not forgetting his treatment at the hands of his serfs, Kraust returned to wreak bloody vengeance. It was to be a twofold punishment he meted out to those poor souls as their cadavers jerked back to unnatural life at a word from Kraust. News began to spread as his Undead horde grew, bolstered by foul chaotics attracted by the scent of death that followed him - Baron Kraust's band of lost souls was on the march!

Thanks by the way to Goethe for the quotations!