"Sweat, Strong Drink & Rotting Flesh"
The Liche Chronicles / Restless Dead / Silent Threat verses Shornaal's Beastmen / Beastmen Raiders with Mark of Shornaal / Scion of Chaos
Wyrdstone Hunt
An old crone cackled softly to herself as she hung some goatsweed up to dry next to her window, for that window gave her a good vantage point of the surrounding area. If a gale hadn't been blowing, Ursaltia would have gone outside for a better view, but her withered frame did not take kindly to the biting wind so she pulled up a rickety stool and propped her elbows on the window sill in anticipation of the following show.
Ivan snorted, and though the chill wind stole the sound, Rasputin's warm ale in his belly and his shaggy hide were more than enough to dispell the cold. Ivan barked a few orders through the wind, and tightened his grip on his sword as he strode forth into this little valley. There were rumours that a lucky warband might find some treasures if they look hard amongst the burnt-out ruins of this once-quaint little out-lying village, and with the ale making Ivan brave and itching to fight, Ivan was hoping that he wasn't the only one to have heard the rumours.
Magnus shivered with the chilling wind, but found no sympathy with any of his company even though he was second-in-command. For undead, of course, do not feel sympathy, let alone feel the cold. Lestat de Lioncourt, once a great magician and now a great liche, had surprisingly left Magnus in charge of the undead horde in order to search an abandoned building by himself. Magnus was now on his way to a smaller building next to a large patch of forest in the middle of the valley, but even with all this backup around him, a feeling of unease started to add to the miserable chill he was feeling.
The normally eerie voices of the forest did nothing to daunt the beastmen this day - even the hounds had lapped up their fill, and even even having one of his Gors and he himself find a treasure each did not satiate the bloodlust that Ivan was now feeling. Unfortunately, there didn't look like there would be much blood split, for one a straggly-haired, rat-faced human looked like the only opponent that would spill any blood. Never mind, for the zombies and wights accompanying him would provide for some spirited gore-flinging.
A smile spread across Magnus's face as he held up the gold ring that he had found, but the smile slowly faded as he realised what he was looking at through the ring. "Company!" he yelled, as a warhound and Gor charged through the large burnt-out opening in the forest side of the building. His sword whipped out quickly to parry the Gor's clubs, while the zombie next to him engaged with the chaos hound.
Warned by Magnus's shout, Armand the grave guard and two zombies rushed to attack a couple of warhounds who were sprinting towards them from the forest. The power of the wight blade was then seen, as a warhound felt it's energy-sapping strength as was taken OOA. The other warhound, though against two zombies, managed to avoid injury and knocked down a zombie in retaliation.
A stalemate seemed to ensue and Magnus and the Gor traded hit for hit, but with neither managing to find a damaging blow, though the tables seemed to turn in Magnus's favour when the warhound was stunned by the zombie. A short-lived lull in the wind caused Magnus to cough, as the overwhelming stench of sweat, strong drink and other nasty (for humans anyway) odours quickly filled his nostrils in the confined space. Magnus was used to the smell of rotting flesh though, so he was not put off and kept up his defense without pause.
Outside, more join in the battle, though the slowness of the undead hinders their cause. A Gor knocks down a zombie which is then taken out by a warhound, while two other warhounds kill another zombie and knock down Armand. Gabrielle, once a famed local beauty but not a ghastly wight, is lucky enough to kill a Gor and Nicholas, another grave guard, knocks down a warhound, but this does little to stop the carnage as one of the warhounds kills Armand.
Inside, the tide has swung the other direction as the zombie takes out the warhound and Magnus stuns the Gor and manages to reanimate a zombie into the forest - the dark shapes watching on hadn't escaped his somewhat distracted notice.
Ivan snarled - his version of a smile - as a zombie appeared nearby. With a roar that ended in a growl, he charged in and knocked the zombie, but was soon sounding a roar of frustration as Rasputin took the zombie OOA. Ivan stared murderously at Rasputin, but Rasputin was not worried, for he knew how much Ivan needed him. He was under no disallusions however that if he had been anyone else his head would likely not still be attached.
Lestat did not at first pay much attention to the sounds carried on the wind, for he was distracted by the little trinket he had found. As he looked out the window to see a handful of beastmen rushing to the very building he was in, he quickly cast his spell of doom on a large bestigor, who dropped down stunned. Seeing that his warband was in trouble and he was likely to soon be standing alone against against multiple enemies, Lestat quickly called for a retreat.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha" cackled Ursaltia as she clapped her hands and rocked back on her stool after the entertaining show. Now that the show was over, she slowly ambled over to the fireplace to stir the frogs-eye stew she was cooking for dinner. As the fire put some of the warmth back into her bones, she silently congratulated herself and decided that she would make sure a few more rumours were spread about - for her personal entertainment of course.
Friday, July 23, 2010
The Tempest (Round Two - The Lone Squad (BN) verses B'trark Gorehorns (MD))
"The Tempest"
The Lone Squad / Gunnery School of Nuln / Lure of Fortune verses B'trark Gorehorns / Beastmen Raiders with Mark of Onogal / Scion of Chaos
Wyrdstone Hunt
Rain. Senior Gunnery Officer Benedict von Neale hated the rain. He hated the mud that clogged his boots. He hated the water that soaked through his clothing. He hated the damp that was getting into his blackpowder. He looked around at his squad and made a mental note that he needed to get his hands on some raincoats for his men. To make matters worse they had just heard a horn blast that could mean nothing other than beastmen in the vicinity. “They must have also heard about the treasures to be found in this area,” he thought to himself grimly and ordered his men to split up to increase their chances of finding treasures and to set up possible opportunities for cross fire.
Bragor grinned as the shaman of his new tribe, Markhor, held up a treasure. “So the Cathayan villagers did actually tell the truth before they died and the battle against the liche and his undead minions where Guarin died had not been in vain.” he thought. After his chieftain died, Albrath had briefly taken over the tribe. Bragor was by far the better leader though and the centigor chose not to contest the leadership when confronted and instead stood down. Bragor was eager now to build his tribe for his own glory in the eyes of Onogal. He looked out through the pouring rain at the acid pools and forest and wondered what further riches could be found.
Benedict looked with concern at the acid pool he was walking past. There were a lot of the swampy pools in this area and all of them were slowly expanding as more and more water from the rain flowed into them. “Tell the men to seek high ground quickly,” he said to Benson, the squad's instructor. “I doubt that we'll find any treasure due to the speed at which these acid pools are growing.”
The beastmen also continued to move forward into a dense patch of forest. Bragor growled that the dead forest still caused some of his warriors, including Albrath, to baulk. “Another reason I am now the chieftain,” he smiled. “No fool who quavered at trees blowing in the wind deserved leadership of a tribe.” Just then three humans came into view around a clump of trees. His warhounds howled and charged with eager anticipation of the taste of warm blood. The mud must have slowed down the warhounds as the humans were ready for their assult and took one out of action and stunned the other. The third human fired his two pistols but both shots missed their mark and the warrior then turned and fled. Bragor yelled out an order and Markhor and two gors charged into the humans that had stayed to dispatch the stunned warhound.
The fighting was fierce but the weak humans were no match for the beastmen. Arkar, one of the gors, caved in the head of one human with his mace. Markhor stunned the other human. Bragor, Albrath and the other beastmen moved closer to the action to revel in the killing but in doing so they also entered into the sights of a marksmen with a handgun that had taken up position in a nearby building. Bragor was knocked down from the impact before he heard the gunshot. Markhor feverishly recited a spell in an archaic and terrible tongue and Onogal must have been pleased with the action because the dark god afflicted the stunned human with his Neiglish Rot before the warhound recovered and took the poor, diseased human out of action.
Benedict looked across the acid lake to the building on the other side where one of his marksmen was positioned. Reuben, the senior student in the squad, was running back to seek shelter in the building. A warhound and a beastman were in pursuit and gaining ground. He lined up the beastmen in the sights of his handgun and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Benedict swore. The blackpowder was wet and failed to ignite. As he quickly emptied the chamber of his gun the warriors across the acid disappeared behind a small clump of trees. He had lost his chance. There was a scream and Benedict shook his head at the hopelessness of the situation. Two of his men (perhaps only one now) were trapped on the other side of the lake and there was no way that he and the other men with him could reach them to help.
Arkar raced by the warhound that had just taken another human out of action and charged up the ladder into the marksman who was obviously having trouble with his handgun. He was close to frenzy after his previous kill and was keen to shed more blood. The human didn't stand a chance and was taken out of action and thrown off the small building.
That was the last straw for Benedict. They were safe for now due to the acid that separated them from the foul beastmen but the storm was easing and the acid would all too quickly recede. Benedict knew that beastmen were forever hungry to spill blood and did not want to stick around to continue the confrontation. He ordered his men to return to the watering hole where they had left the rest of the caravan with the merchants and the men that were still recovering from the ogre attack.
The Lone Squad / Gunnery School of Nuln / Lure of Fortune verses B'trark Gorehorns / Beastmen Raiders with Mark of Onogal / Scion of Chaos
Wyrdstone Hunt
Rain. Senior Gunnery Officer Benedict von Neale hated the rain. He hated the mud that clogged his boots. He hated the water that soaked through his clothing. He hated the damp that was getting into his blackpowder. He looked around at his squad and made a mental note that he needed to get his hands on some raincoats for his men. To make matters worse they had just heard a horn blast that could mean nothing other than beastmen in the vicinity. “They must have also heard about the treasures to be found in this area,” he thought to himself grimly and ordered his men to split up to increase their chances of finding treasures and to set up possible opportunities for cross fire.
Bragor grinned as the shaman of his new tribe, Markhor, held up a treasure. “So the Cathayan villagers did actually tell the truth before they died and the battle against the liche and his undead minions where Guarin died had not been in vain.” he thought. After his chieftain died, Albrath had briefly taken over the tribe. Bragor was by far the better leader though and the centigor chose not to contest the leadership when confronted and instead stood down. Bragor was eager now to build his tribe for his own glory in the eyes of Onogal. He looked out through the pouring rain at the acid pools and forest and wondered what further riches could be found.
Benedict looked with concern at the acid pool he was walking past. There were a lot of the swampy pools in this area and all of them were slowly expanding as more and more water from the rain flowed into them. “Tell the men to seek high ground quickly,” he said to Benson, the squad's instructor. “I doubt that we'll find any treasure due to the speed at which these acid pools are growing.”
The beastmen also continued to move forward into a dense patch of forest. Bragor growled that the dead forest still caused some of his warriors, including Albrath, to baulk. “Another reason I am now the chieftain,” he smiled. “No fool who quavered at trees blowing in the wind deserved leadership of a tribe.” Just then three humans came into view around a clump of trees. His warhounds howled and charged with eager anticipation of the taste of warm blood. The mud must have slowed down the warhounds as the humans were ready for their assult and took one out of action and stunned the other. The third human fired his two pistols but both shots missed their mark and the warrior then turned and fled. Bragor yelled out an order and Markhor and two gors charged into the humans that had stayed to dispatch the stunned warhound.
The fighting was fierce but the weak humans were no match for the beastmen. Arkar, one of the gors, caved in the head of one human with his mace. Markhor stunned the other human. Bragor, Albrath and the other beastmen moved closer to the action to revel in the killing but in doing so they also entered into the sights of a marksmen with a handgun that had taken up position in a nearby building. Bragor was knocked down from the impact before he heard the gunshot. Markhor feverishly recited a spell in an archaic and terrible tongue and Onogal must have been pleased with the action because the dark god afflicted the stunned human with his Neiglish Rot before the warhound recovered and took the poor, diseased human out of action.
Benedict looked across the acid lake to the building on the other side where one of his marksmen was positioned. Reuben, the senior student in the squad, was running back to seek shelter in the building. A warhound and a beastman were in pursuit and gaining ground. He lined up the beastmen in the sights of his handgun and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Benedict swore. The blackpowder was wet and failed to ignite. As he quickly emptied the chamber of his gun the warriors across the acid disappeared behind a small clump of trees. He had lost his chance. There was a scream and Benedict shook his head at the hopelessness of the situation. Two of his men (perhaps only one now) were trapped on the other side of the lake and there was no way that he and the other men with him could reach them to help.
Arkar raced by the warhound that had just taken another human out of action and charged up the ladder into the marksman who was obviously having trouble with his handgun. He was close to frenzy after his previous kill and was keen to shed more blood. The human didn't stand a chance and was taken out of action and thrown off the small building.
That was the last straw for Benedict. They were safe for now due to the acid that separated them from the foul beastmen but the storm was easing and the acid would all too quickly recede. Benedict knew that beastmen were forever hungry to spill blood and did not want to stick around to continue the confrontation. He ordered his men to return to the watering hole where they had left the rest of the caravan with the merchants and the men that were still recovering from the ogre attack.
The Lone Squad found 2 treasures.
The B'trark Gorehorns found 5 treasures.
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