Lead of Winter: How to be an Oldhammer GM or Why is playing with a Gamesmaster so important?

Bretonnian heavy knights leave their protective hedge to counter attack down the slope.

Yesterday saw another gathering of Old School Warhammer enthusiasts descend on Oldhammer's spiritual home of the Wargames Foundry. The occasion? A massive pitched battle entitled The Lead of Winter: In Defence of Far Corfe and my first proper attempt at GMing a full scale pitched battle. 

Now, I could write extensively about the game. I could describe it's frantic ebb and flow. I could comment on how a harmless looking scenery piece was transformed into a explosive powerhouse that even rattled the bones of the undead cavalry. And I could tell tales of appalling dice rolling that would chill the heart of the 40,000 or so grognards who visit this blog every month!

But I shall refrain from doing so. 

Let the combatants do that on the blogs, social media sites and blogs of their choice. I want to discuss instead the most noble aspect of Oldhammer of all! 

Being the GAMESMASTER!

Humans, elves and giants prepare to bolster the defences of Far Corfe, as the forces of Keef Bullockchopper advance over the horizon. 

I have played in a great number of games over the years, and witnessed a fair few too. I have played all over England, from Cambridge to London to Exeter to Dorset so I would like to consider myself fairly experienced. 

Does this alone make me a good Gamesmaster?

I don't think so no, there are other essential skills that do not depend at all on the number of games played, how good a painter you are, how large your collection is or how well you can construct scenery. 

None of those 'normal' wargaming skills are necessary at all, they help (and having these attributes in abundance really is a BIG help) but they are far from being essential. You are probably wondering at this point 'well Orlygg, what IS essential for being a good GM?'

Read on and I shall try and explain. 

1. Scenario Building 

As you would probably imagine - this is absolutely key. The more time you put into the scenario detail, especially the context for the game, the more details are established to support player immersion. Why are they building the units that they are? What purpose might the troops they select (or are presented with) have to play in the unfolding events? This is especially true in big community games, like In Defence of Far Corfe, which was designed from the ground up to support ten or more players. When planning smaller games involving myself and a single other player, I usually create a scenario which the player 'acts through' and simply play the part of the GM on a far smaller scale. I am not trying to win but aim to create an experience that my co-player enjoys more than I do. 

What follows is the scenario background for Far Corfe. I hope it illustrates the kind of detail I think is vital for a GM to provide to establish that 'immersion' I mentioned earlier. 

In Defence of Far Corfe: A Warhammer Third Edition Fantasy Battle

Collecting Your Forces

The organisation is simple. Anyone you wants to become involved in the battle needs to bring TWO units of equal points value. ONE unit needs to be from a 'goodie race' (Empire, W H Elves, Dwarfs, Brets etc) and ONE unit needs to be from a 'baddie race' (undead, skaven, orcs, goblins).

No chaos units please - as they won't fit into the narrative as well.

More details to follow.

EDIT: All units will need a named levelled character to lead them (lvl 5 - 15).

No magical items - as they will be up for grabs during the game.

What is going on in Far Corfe?

Far Corfe was once a thriving economic centre with a wealthy and tasteful artisan class keen to patronise the arts. The key to their success? The humble wool trade. The lolling, grassy hills that surround the town could easily sustain thousands of sheep and the countryside was once awash with numerous little farmsteads specialising in this area. The town's location, built on a crossroads to Altdorf, Erzstadt and Middenheim, also helped, as it was easy to transport goods to and from the rivers that were the pathways of the Empire.

But the town has been in decline for over eighty years. New markets and cheaper produce from Kislev reduced the profitability of wool and though still worthwhile, the industry is not what it was. Nowadays, if you ask the average peasant in the street across the Old World about Far Corfe, they would probably speak about the 'Grand Recreation' rather than its former role as the hub of the wool trade.

Some two hundred years ago, the chief of the Airyaxe Wound tribe, Todge-Dropper the Terrible, unleashed a swarm of orc and goblin raiders against the defences of Far Corfe. Legend said that the previous winter had been so harsh in their mountain fastness, that even the warmest undergarments could do little to ward off the evils of frostbite. Swearing appalling oaths of violence on the altar of Mork, Todge-Dropper set out to destroy Far Corfe and claim their enormous stores of warm, fluffy wool for himself.

As all schoolboy students of history can tell you, Todge-Dropper was defeated and Far Corfe was saved in once of the most remarkable battles in history. Due to a series of remarkable coincidences, field armies of men, dwarfs, gnomes, halflings, wood, sea and high elves were all in the immediate area when Todge-Dropper launched his poorly timed assault.

Dick Fitz Inwell, leader of the Far Corfe militia, couldn't believe his eyes when rank after rank of elite fighting men marched up the road towards the townwalls within hours of him sending out the call to arms. Bjorn Whiffabigun, the dwarf mercenary captain was the first to arrive. Swiftly followed by a combined elvish force lead by the sorceress Pyria Sweetcherry. Their timely arrival meant that Todge-Dropper's vanguard were beaten back and Far Corfe was able to re-enforce itself considerably. Eventually, Todge-Dropper's forces were crushed on the wooden walls of the town, though the orc leader's body was never found.

So remarkable was the victory, that the nations of those involved continued to celebrate it years after the final survivor had died. Every ten years, hundreds of warriors would arrive in the town, from all over the Old World, for a week long festival of feasting and re-enactment. Local tribesmen were employed to dress up as Todge-Dropper's legions and a 'Grand Recreation' was fought (using safety weapons) to the delight of the adoring crowds.

Since the town's decline, the Recreation has become less and less well attended. Though all of the nations involved still send token units of troops. Interest in the spectacle is waning. Mayor Haywood Jablomi, the current ruler of the town, is now faced with being the last leader to organise the event. This year's low key celebration will be the last of the 'Recreations'.

But unbeknown to Jablomi, or the crowds that are forming inside the town, this year's event is soon to spiral out of control. For the winter has been long and harsh....

And something is coming...

Characters

'Goodie' Commander: Mayor Haywood Jablomi

Ex-Lawyer and impotency survivor, Haywood Jablomi now resides over the Mayorship of Far Corfe. A shrew political animal, Jablomi has ensured that his control of the town is pretty much absolute despite his dubious relationship record. His first wife died of excessive nagging, his second after a mishap involving a goblin, a tanning booth and one hundredweight of troll fat and his most recent, after the consumption of one too many magical cheesecakes.

Still, nothing fans the flames of passion like a counting house full of Imperial Crowns and Jablomi is already engaged to a new would be spouse from Altdorf. Only, after years of indifference from the women in his life, this time his partner has a much greater interest in the political goings on in the town, and with her past career on the stage, she is keen to play a larger role in the 'Grand Recreation' this coming weekend.

Despite his political successes, Jablomi is chronically indecisive and can switch from active man-on-a-mission to dithering dingbat at a moment's notice. This character trait is reflected in his stats and special rules.

Special Rules 

At the beginning of each turn roll a D6 and consult the following table.

Though a local leader of some renown, Haywood Jablomi is incredibly indecisive. One minute he can be an inspiration leader, rallying his fellow townsfolk to victory and the next, a dithering buffoon. To reflect this the following rules apply.

On a D6

1-2: Jablomi is gripped with indecisiveness. Nothing happens.

3-4: Jablomi makes an inspiration speech which rallies the men within 12" of him, adding +1 to their A LD INT CL and WP. 

5-6: Jablomi makes an outstanding speech which rallies the men within 12" of him, adding +2 to their A LD INT CL and WP. 

'Goodie' Second-in-Command: Iva Sweetcherry

Iva is a relative newcomer to Far Corfe. For most of her early working life, she trod the boards in mystery plays in Altdorf as a well-known, and very demanding, actress. Eventually, she met a very rich man (our friend Jablomi) and abandoned the small, smelly changing rooms and stinking crowds for a life of idleness and pleasure.

Despite being a 'prima-donna' type, Iva Sweetcherry is a real force to be reckoned with. Utterly arrogant and entitled, she considers everyone she meets (especially her husband) to be totally beneath her. Subsequently, she is utterly fearless in the face of danger; a trait that can inspire and appall those around her in equal measure.

Special Rules

At the beginning of each turn roll a D6 and consult the following table.

Iva's arrogance and self-obsession is the stuff of legend, so much so she has no fear whatsoever. This unbelievable arrogance even inspires others.

On a D6

1-2: Iva's appalling attitude just isn't enough to spread.

3-4: All friendly units within 12" are immune to psychology due to Iva's incredible personality. 

5-6: All friendly units within 16" are immune to psychology due to Iva's incredible personality. 

Keef Bullockchopper: 'Baddie' Commander

The halflings of Pistdorf have long been a insular bunch. The more adventurous sons of the village would wander no further than the bars and restuarants of Far Corfe, happy to ply their cooking trade away and steal glorious helpings from the plates of the careless.

However, some halflings meddle too deeply with the dark magics of cookery and can invoke horrors far worse than burnt pastry on to the mortal plane. History doesn't name the halfling cook who invented 'pub-quiz pie' but the consequences of his actions were dire for his adopted home of Far Corfe.

It was baked in a magic oven for the sole purpose of providing it's consumer with an unbridled command of general knowledge just at the right moment, a moment like when your team is ten points down to the Bogenhafen Barrelsmashers and you have just picked a round of questions about Tilea's minor roads.

Sadly, the 'pub-quiz pie' was stolen by a wandering giant the morning of a particularly crucial mid-league quiz night when a careless hobbit popped out for a quick five course meal. Keef Bullockchopper, a previously genial giant, was suddenly equipped with a mind that could unlock the very secrets of the universe. What did he do with this unbridled power?

He decided to rule the world with an iron fist.

Far Corfe was to be his first conquest.

Special Rules

As Keef is highly intelligent he can ignore the rules for being drunk. He prefers smoothies anyway. 

2. Flexibility with the Rulebook

This is essential. A wargame is a shared strategic experience, not a sport. Being on the winning side is great, but the true reward is contributing to the game as a whole. No ruleset is perfect and sometime the rules can be interpreted (and mis-interpreted) in many ways. As GM you should not hang the rule set you select around your neck like a metaphorical millstone. Nor should it hobble your players and restrict their strategies and ideas.

Common sense should always prevail.

Far Corfe has it's far share of unusual allies, including this Emperor Dragon.

Knights, peasants and dwarf musketeers take up commanding views on Far Corfe's defensive hedge, as orcs and skeletons advance.

3.Being Fair

It seems obvious when you state it, but a GM needs to be impartial. You cannot favour either side in the game you are running and should endeavour to balance out mishaps and calamities to keep the game moving forwards in a satisfactory way. No-one really wants to play a one-side contest, even amongst friends, and a good GM can carefully introduce situations to restore balance if one sides begins to dominate the field too early.

Having a collection of unusual monster miniatures really helps here, as you can whip out a number of giant spiders, phantasms or giant dragon turtles when players least expect it. Taking the part of these creatures is one way of involving yourself in the action too.

You need to be fair to the scenario too. Don't introduce narrative or rules elements that do not fit with the overall theme of the game. If it is a pitched battle, don't introduce political skullduggery, if you are playing through a small skirmish game, don't include a powerhouse of a character. Having a second GM to work with really helps and I was lucky enough to have one of the most experienced in England with me, Paul Mitchell. 

Keef Bullockchopper advances through fields strewn with bodies. Halflings and Wardancers man a mixture of barricade and hedge.

Big Willie tramples down his own comrades (and part of the towns' defensive structure) in his drunken desperation to get close to the tasty looking trolls. 

4. Choosing interesting models 

Who wants to play with the same models all of the time? In later editions, my games became rather boring affairs with rather bland forces based on army books. Orcs and Goblins verses Chaos etc. I have always found this approach both deathly dull and incredibly limited. Hence, for the Far Corfe game I split the forces into good and evil - and deftly removed chaos forces as I felt that they had been a little over used in our games. 

Doing this ensured that a wealth of different units would appear on the field - from giants, to dark elves, to hobbits, to hobgoblins, to ogres, to minotaurs and so on. Matthew Dunn even sneaked in Emperor Dragon! 

If planning your own scenario make similar effort to cast aside army list restrictions and get as many different model types on to your table. As you would have seen, thanks to Phil Scott we even managed a Citadel Giant!

Combined fire from the archers and musketeers send a unit of goblinoids running away in panic. 

Pikemen hold the line as archers let loose their shafts of death!

5. Encouraging team play

Enthusiasts playing together to meet their objectives, often accompanied with the sound of raucous laughter, must be preferable to the staid silence of the tournament, surely? As GM you should think of ways of getting your players to work together, or against each other, in a variety of different ways. For Far Corfe, I opted to set the game up with Warlord Paul without any of the other players seeing what we were up to. We cleared the room, set up the table with the models placed where we thought best and when all was ready, we invited the players into the room and briefed them on the game.

We deliberately tried to deploy the units to ensure that contact with the enemy would be made after a few short turns of movement. When we had finished setting up, Paul and I discussed who would best suit the role of 'goodie' and 'baddie' commander and left THEM the responsibility to allotting command to the units that made up their individual forces. In this way, most players ended up using someone else's models for the game. It was most rewarding to see that 'paternal' delight (even if the player was on the opposing team) in eyes when a personal unit did well in the game, though the sight of bittersweet tears as they were utterly destroyed (like Matthew Dunn's dragon) were perhaps not so welcome.

The scenery was supplied by Matthew Street, Steve Beales and myself with many of the buildings being scratch builds based on the classic White Dwarf houses of the '80s. We fought across one of Bryan Ansell's spectacular gaming tables. 

At the height of the battle, the giants clashed near the Pistdorf Gate as undead and elf hacked into each other. 

6. Surprising your players

Though some players need a game to be predictable, I usually find that they are the types who rely on clever armylist manipulation to 'win' games. Exploiting loopholes to crush your enemies doesn't sound very satisfying to me and is probably why many '40k Playerz' seem so angry and bitter all of the time. Conan never mentioned the meta alongside the lamentations of the women, did he?

A rule set as complex as Warhammer Third Edition is jammed packed with ideas that can be used to surprise your players and create additional challenges for them to overcome. I feel that this  encourages players to constantly adapt their battle plans to suit new situations.

For example, one of my players (Steve Casey)  asked what a scenery piece (a large wagon) contained. The wagon was positioned between his troops and the rapidly advancing enemy. Thinking quickly, I decided that the vehicle contained an enormous about of illegally distilled alcohol and would be pretty flammable if struck with a flaming arrow. Inventing rules on the fly in this way allowed Steve to send the wagon towards the enemy and detonate the alcohol within. This is fairly simple to do if you just use a stat test against which every attribute seems the most relevant. If it requires thought- intelligence, brawn- strength, speed- initiative and so on! 

What Steve didn't know what the the resulting explosion would have a radius of 12" and would require all cavalry units (including undead) make a panic test due to the noise. When the smoke cleared a huge number of good and bad troops had been killed and the undead cavalry had run! 

I don't think any of the players expected any of that to happen!

The positions of the forces after the second turn. 

7. Setting Restrictions 

Do not be afraid to set limits on your players. In many ways it is vital for the smooth running of the game. The most important rule when being a GM is getting your players to understand that your decision is final. There is no room for argument, but as 'director' of the game, you are acting impartially for EVERYONE's best interests. You are not trying to win the game for either side, but you are ensuring that everyone has fun taking part.

Other restrictions can also be useful. I placed a very tight time limit of 20 minutes per turn. If a side had not finished their movement, attacks or magic when that period of time had passed, they stopped and the opposing side had their turn. Such a rule, in my opinion, helps focus play when using such a complex edition as Third and when you have a large number of players. We played for just over four hours and managed to complete 12 turns. See, WFB3 isn't as slow as the naysayers suggest, you just need to approach it from the right direction. 

During major 'day long' games like this I have always found publishing a brief over view of the day helps players understand what will happen and when. Here is an example I used for Far Corfe.

Rough Overview for 'In Defence of Far Corfe'

10am 'Line Up' : A table will be provided for you to place your prepared units along with their 'rules' cards- please don't for get these. There will be a space for the 'goodies' and the 'baddies' and you are encouraged t have a good look at everybody's models and painting. Scenery can be placed out here too.

10:30 'Secret Set Up': Players will be asked to leave the gaming area while the scenery and forces are placed on the table. You will not get the chance to view the scenario until the game commences.

The 'baddie' commander (Keef Bullockchopper) and the 'goodie' commander (Haywood Jablomi) will be selected at random from the players available. Remaining players will be assigned a 'goodie' or 'baddie' role. It will be up to the commanders to decide which of their underlings command which units.

11-1: 'The Defence of Far Corfe - Morning. Each side will have a strict time limit of 20 minutes to complete their entire turn. This will be supervised by the GM VERY CLOSELY. Phases of play will follow the WFB3 rulebook.

1-2: Lunch and shopping

2-4: 'The Defence of Far Corfe - Afternoon. Again, a strict 20 minutes will be given for players to complete their turn under the eyes of the GM. Winning side to be declared at 4 o'clock.

Uncommon Valour.

This is the key to victory. Whether or not Far Corfe falls is NOT important and will not decide the game either way. Uncommon valour points will need to be amassed to ensure victory.

UV points can be awarded by a GM for exceptional bravery, unnatural luck and exceptional generalship. Solid roleplaying in character of your unit will also help. The victor will be the side with the highest number of Uncommon Valour points.

Secret plans, illusions and tricks are encouraged and can be added to the game via a whisper in the GM's ear.

GM's word is final.

Steve Beales, Phil Scott, Matthew Street and Adam Atom Taylor 'The Baddies' plan their next devilish move.

Just don't ask about the soap dish!

8. Getting the 'right' people

Sadly, this is so true. Putting on a game of this size takes real effort and the last thing any prospective GM wants to happen is for all his or her hard work to be undone by a 'plonker'. If you have spent any time on the internet reading through blogs, forums or social media groups you will know the type of gamer that I am describing here. They are the ones who just cannot see any other opinion other than their own.

Play with people who respect others and who want to contribute unconditionally, not those who want to use the game as a vessel with which to fulfill their own conditions. Sadly, these idiots appear in every community but they are few in number. Rage-quitters and posters of pathetic whinging blog posts (usually after they have been banned from/dramatically left an online community) do not make great players at all.

Avoid them at all costs.

Hobgoblins and Dark Elves charge towards the defensive barricade in the closing moments of the battle. 

Haywood Jablomi's last stand?

Of course, this is only the tip of the GM iceburg but I hope that the ideas I have shared today, and a few of the stirring photographs, inspire some of you to create your own games in the narrative style. Personally, the very best games I have ever had of Warhammer have been entirely devised by me, used my miniature collection and were played at my house. Inviting over a couple of friends to try out the scenario is a reward in itself, and though you are not pushing for a 'victory' in the game you play through, those traditional discussions still occur afterwards...

"Jablomi would have emerged victorious if I hadn't rolled that 1!"

Happy GMing.

Orlygg

Wachturm Weg: A Warhammer Third Edition Skirmish Battle Report Part Two

And we return to Wachturm Weg and this, the second part of the battle report of my latest Third Edition game. If you missed the first bit of the narrative it can be found here. 

After clearing the farm building of bandits and failing to find the sensitive undergarments, Dan gathered his troops near the magic barrier. The two surviving inhabitants (the gnome, Little Ron, and Brock Fett) had legged it to the Watchtower and were now hidden from view. All he had to do now was cross the barrier. But how?

"Uthse your thsmathsh thspell upon it!" Sir Wilheim ordered. "If we can bring thiths barrier down quickly thothse thscumbagths from the farm won't have the time to regroup and counter attack!"

"The vibration from the ether when I cast that particular spell really affects my digestion," Ludwig grumbled, "and with bowels like mine that last thing you want to to is antagonise the juices of the stomach."

"Juthst get on with it, man!" Sir Wilheim howled in anger. 

Reluctantly, the hedge wizard strode forwards and tapped the barrier gently. Nothing happened. He realised quite quickly their mistake, for such spells are designed to shatter simple inanimate objects and not complicated magic walls. Ludwig summoned up his energies once again and cast a simple fireball spell at the barrier, but that did nothing but absorb further power into whatever magic lay behind this. 

From deep inside his robes a strangled gurgling could be heard and Ludwig winced. 

"What's this sire?" One of the knights asked, after discovering a strange formation of bones and mosses within a clay pot. 

"The key to this wall," Ludwig called excitedly, his bowel movements forgotten momentarily, "I order you to break it - such an action should destroy this barrier and let us through. 

"Not me," the knight protested, dropping the skull onto the grass, "I'll be frazzled or have by soul blasted to a thousand pieces. Everyone knows that tinkering with magic only leads of painful oblivion!"

"By all the Godths, why muthst I work with thsuch incompetentths? Its juthst a thskull and thsome dried mothsseths cobbled together by thsome rancid hedge wizard like Ludwig! Give it here..." Sir Wilheim snatched up the odd creation and broke it to pieces, a strange blue jewel fell from the jaw. "Thiths ithsn't the dark creation of a necromancer, or machinations of chaoths - its a thsimple thspell eathsily broken and will bring no harm to anyone at all. Now follow your orderths and move, even an imbecile like you thshould have noticed that the barrier is now down!"

And with the tirade over, a single fireball flew from the watchtower's window and incinerated Sir Wilheim in seconds. His blackened body collapsed in a heavy pile of broken mail and burnt cloth. A hideous smell filled the air, like a poorly cooked barbeque dinner. 

The remaining knights barely had time to react to the sudden demise of their leader when the door of the watchtower burst open and two hideous 'things' emerged from the blackness within. The first was human sized and moved with an awkward gait, while its body with fantastically muscled its face appeared to have been peeled clean of skin. And only its grinning skull was left to glare balefully at the knights.

Its companion was even more grotesque, if such a thing was possible. It was had once been a dwarf, judging by the beard, but that was all that was left of it now. The exposed skin had been turned green by some strange corruption, the left arm was twisted into some tentacle and an unnatural tail sprouted from its rear end and swayed in the air like a snake. 

Both mutants, for mutants they were, wasted no time in attacking. The former dwarf charged Ludwig while Skullface (as he was known) collided with Sir Bleu, smashing down with its crude club. 

"Chaos!" Screamed a knight. But Sir Bleu, who had taken over command since Wilhelm' death, overcame his fear and darted forwards in a desperate counter attack. Spurred on by his example, all but two of the remaining knights overcame their fear too and darted forwards. 

"We outnumber them," Sir Bleu rallied his men, "and they'll fall easily. Strike! Strike! Strike!" 

Though the dwarf looked hideous, its was clear to the men who fought him that its mind had been blasted by the mutation ravaged upon its body. The moronic look in its eyes barely changed as he was cut down; green blood seeping into the grass in a curious stain. Skullface fought better and managed to parry the blows directed at him. One blade struck his muscled skin but bounced off as it made of stone. 

The door of the watchtower burst open again and two more figures stepped out into the melee. Both were humanoid and though marked by chaos, seemed less mutated that those who came first. The two thugs looked more than competent fighters and dashed forwards in eager haste. 

Cutting savagely with a curved sword, the green skinned thug cut down a knight, the force of the blow bursting the links of the chainmail and nearly severing the unfortunate's arm. His companion roared wildly, and darted forwards in support of Skullface. 

Overcoming their fear, the two knights that had held back found their courage and waded in to the combat. One knight, clad in yellow and red, cut down the thug who had raced to support Skullface. 

For the third time in as many minutes, the door to the watchtower opened and Brock and Little Ron emerged into the daylight. The gnome ran around the edge of the tower and pulled at the cord of his crossbow, cocking the weapon. Brock stepped forwards and deftly cut down a green surcoated knight, his blade piercing the mail beneath the cloth and splitting the man's belly open. Grinning viciously, he kicked the body down the hill and eyed his next target.

Little Ron took aim at a knight and loosed a bolt. Its pointed head was deflected by a shield and, frustrated, he bent down once more to cock the weapon. With a brutal hack, the blue-skinned thug cut down another knight, this time caving in his forehead so the poor man's brains splattered across the grass. Holding his shield in the air he let of a howl of delight, calling on the dark gods he had sold his soul to to watch him in this moment of triumph. 

Brock stepped down towards a fresh target, but Ludwig blasted him to pieces with a fireball spell. 

For a final time, the watchtower door opened and a red jacketed beastman emerged, charging with delight into the knight who had just killed the orange skinned thug. Though fearsome, the creature was slow and the knight easily parried his attacks. 

Skullface fell, his cranium shattered by a sword edge. The knights who had been fighting him surged forwards like a crest of a wave, spreading out to join the fight against the blue-skinned thug, the beastman and Little Ron. 

With the tide of the battle turning, the remaining thug was felled with multiple hack and slash wounds. 

Outclassed, Little Ron was stabbed to death without releasing the bolt he had just loaded. His vanquisher ending his life with brutal skill. 

Now only the beastman fought on. The standard bearer dashed for the watchtower's door, and grabbing the handle found the entrance to be unlocked. He made to dart inside the blackness but another gigantic fireball struck him in the body. Flames caught hold of him in an instant, and he collapsed to the floor in rolling agony. 

Wounded and gasping, the beastman let out an awful bray and fell to the vengeful blades of the remaining knights. As its limp body rolled down the incline the battle was at its end. 

The surviving knights stood in silence, their armour and weapons thick with blood, not all of it red or at all natural. Ludwig emerged from the bushes, fussing with his robes, asking "Did I miss much?" 

Ludwig, hurried the surviving knights clear of the door before approaching it carefully. Closing his eyes, he seemed to concentrate on the wood of the entrance for s few seconds, before declaring the area to be safe. 

"The smell of blood always brings out my irritable bowel," he said, "I can feel my lunch positively blocking up my guts. I'll be a long time in the privy once we clear this place."

The surviving knights just grimaced as he lead them inside the tower. 

Inside, they found nothing. Just an empty space full of filth and decay. Discarded bones, not all of them animal, lay mouldering on the floor. A set of rickerty steps lead upwards. 

"Blast!" Ludwig complained, "no crapper!" 

Organising themselves, the knights ascended the stairway. The steps lead them up to the top story and what met them their terrified the lead knight. A chaos sorcerer, his face a frightful mess of bone and fang. Green poison dripped from its mandibles and a blue tongue, tipped with a snapping face of its own, slid into the dank air. 

So this was the evil behind the place, Ludwig thought. No doubt forcing the local bandits to do his bidding. Well no longer!

The leading knight couldn't control his fear, and tried to flee back towards the steps. He collided with his colleague and threatened to knock him back down the steps. Pushing wildly, the eyes that stared through the slits of his helmet betrayed a madness to far gone to remedy here. His lack of control put them all at risk, and the knight who faced him cut him down with an enraged blow!

How dare he risk their lives with his weakness!

The chaos thing was pleased to see its enemies destroy each other, and stepping forwards raised a crooked finger...

"I'llll pulllll youuuu aparttt!" The creature slobbered.

Tearing the traitorous knight into pieces with the force of its will, the chaos sorcerer smiled again, his snaked headed tongue whirling in the air, revelling in the scent of death. 

"Go forwards," Ludwig ordered the black knight, "avoid it's tongue... Go while it's weak from the spell!"

Dashing past the sorcerer, the knight swerved to avoid the lashing tongue. Ducking under a blow from the strange club the creature of chaos wielded, he darted against the nearest wall. Ludwig raised his own hand and directed it towards their enemy. 

"Pull my finger!" He shouted, and unleashed a fireball straight at the sorcerer. The holy fire burnt through the bone-like armour that served as the creature's skin and the power of the spell splintered it's body in two. The force of the impact slammed the sorcerer back again the wall, its robes now all singed and gathered up around the loins. 

"The undergarments!" The black knight called out. "The sorcerer was wearing them!"

Trudging through the grass, the surviving knights followed Ludwig. Sir Bleu shook his head again, trying to restore order to his quaking limbs. Chaos! Here in the Empire? And common men willing to work for such a creature? Was there any hope for the world?

"What do we do know?" He asked, hoping that Ludwig would have some scrap of wisdom to help settle his shattered mind. 

"Find a shitehouse," was the wizard's response, "I need to lay a brown onion that would startle a follower of the dark gods."

The End

Wachturm Weg: A Warhammer Third Edition Skirmish Battle Report Part One

I have some very good news. My dear friend, Dan, has reappeared from the depths of the maelstrom and he assures me that his famous Heroquest collection is still very much in existence. You know, the near mint set given to him by a work colleague who thought he might like it. Follow the link to find out more about that haul! 

Anyway, with his return I planned a suitable Oldhammer style game as I doubted he'd had much time to throw dice about a table in the two years since I last saw him. We are lucky with our house, as we have a very sunny conservatory off the kitchen that I use for my hobby activities. Setting up the table I created for the McDeath game at the Foundry, I utilised some repaired Warhammer Townscape buildings I put together for an old Realm of Chaos game we played years back. That game was called The Walls of Contagion and was the second ever battle report I included on this blog. It's in three parts and can be found here, here and here.

That game was played over three years ago and the buildings had suffered a little. I rebased them and black lined the white edges left over from scoring the card but didn't get around to painting the sand I'd stuck down. Not that it seemed noticable once the models were set up on the table. 

Once Dan was settled, I passed him his brief and armylist. I'll include it here so you get a flavour on what he had to work with. The game began with this missive: 

"You are Sir Danek Wilheim, Lord of the Landloseritter of Flusstadt, and commander of a group of foot knights. You have been sent up river by the local Duke to clear out a group of irritating bandits who have been preying on local rivercraft. Rumour has it, an important dignitary has had an embarrassing consignment of silken underclothes stolen and will stop at nothing to reacquire them. Your orders are simple; flush out the bandit camp, eliminate their menace and locate the underclothes post haste.

Local Rivermen have reported odd goings on around Wachturm Weg, a derelict watchtower to the north. The area is remote and the maps you could muster back in Flusstadt were poor indeed, so you have little to go on, though there is a sheep farm reported to be based near the remains of the tower.

Perhaps you could start there?"

And his patrol force was made up of the following: 

Sir Danek Wilheim, Lord of the Landloseritter. Level 15

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3	7	7	4	4	2	7	2	8	7	8	7

He is armed with a hand weapon, light armour and a shield. SV 4+

9 Foot Knights

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3	4	3	3	3	1	4	1	7	7	7	7

Your knights are armed with a hand weapon, light armour and a shield. SV 4+

Ludwig Hecke, Wizard Level 15

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
4	5	3	4	4	3	4	1	9	9	9	9

SV 6+   Magic Level 2.  Power Level 21.

Spells: Level 1 Battle Magic: Aura of Resistance, Fireball, Immunity to Poison. Level 2 Battle Magic: Mental Duel. Mystic Mist, Smash.

Reaching for the dice, the game was suddenly in hand. Now before I go on to explain what occurred let me briefly explain how I approach games of this type. My role is GM and I hope to create a scenario where the player has more fun than I do. There were several points in the game where I could have attempted an action that could (and I stress could) have ended the game for Dan, but I chose not to as I had created a story I wanted to lead to its conclusion. 

The rules are there purely to facilitate the story. 

It had been a tiresome river journey that had taken most of the morning and all of the previous day. Sir Wilheim's men were irritable as they strode down the gangplank towards the glistening beach, and he could hardly blame them, cooped up as they had been on the prow of the boat that had rushed them through darkness to Wachturm Weg. The tide was out now, but a deep channel had been cut through the sand that allowed the small boat to cruise up to the beach and drop them off. 

"My bowels..." grumbled Ludwig Hecke, a local hedge wizard and authority on the area they had been sent to explore. "They are never sturdy after a river voyage, they gripe you see, they gripe! Must be all that clean air." Rudely, the scruffy fellow pushed past Wilheim and strode through the dunes that lead to the shore line. 

"I thsay," Sir Wilheim called indignantly, "you cannot juthst go around puthsing Knighths of the Realm around you know? There can be conthsequenceths to thsuch behaviour! I'll have you on a boat to Bogenhafen if you continue in thiths manner!

The dishevelled wizard completely ignored the Lord Knight and pushed his way through the long grass that lead to the scrubland beyond. 

"Bloody wizardths!" Sir Wilheim swore to himself as his command straggled towards him. Nine knights from various duchies made up this force, each of them landless and, like him, in dire need of cash. hence missions such as these always fell to them. Recovering potentially embarrassing items from bandits and vagabonds was his daily bread. 

As his men fell into step behind him, Sir Wilheim walked north. He could see little of real interest and nothing threatening at all. Nearby stood a sheep farm with what looked to be a solitary shepherd peering curiously down at his small patrol.  

While to the east, Wilheim's sharp eyes spotted the diminutive form of what appeared to be a gnome fetching apples from a tree. The little fellow was quite unperturbed by their arrival and carried on with his task regardless. 

"Thso," Sir Wilheim said to his men, "thethse are our localths. To whom thshall we thspeak firthst about the whereabouths of these bandiths, eh? Well, the thshepherd is clothsest, thso we thshall begin there. Watch your guard though, for thethse remote placeths often thsee the local inhabitanths more willing to adhere to the orderths of cutthroathts than their own rightful lord."

Sir Wilheim approached the shepherd with the easy authority that comes to those born to command. "I thsay, I thsay," he called pompously, "come here thso I might ask you a few questionths!"

The shepherd glared back at him with a look totally lacking in respect, before grudgingly taking a few paces forwards to meet the knight. 

"Are you aware of any bandit activity in the area? Reporths of stolen cargoeths? Thingths like that?" Sir Wilheim continued, deciding to ignore the disrespectful look that the shepherd was exhibiting and press on with his quest for information. 

"I doe knoo anythen abart anny bandits," the shepherd spat, "but I does knoo its rude ter just walk into someones um an' start barken orders loike yaouw own the place!"

"That may well be the cathse but I shall have to thsearch your property just the thsame." Sir Wilheim demanded, getting a feeling that this difficult individual was hiding something, and in his line of investigation, suspicious usually meant guilty. 

"I suggest yaouw all bugger off or I'll set me sons on yaouw!" The shepherd barked back. 

And without another word, he strode around the corner of the building and in through the doorway concealed at the back of the house. The sound of bolts being thrown across study wood followed shortly. 

"Right men," Sir Wilheim managed, trying to rescue as much of his lordly dignity as he could,"I'll have that door down now!"

Three of his burly knights strode forwards with their axes drawn. They were rather experienced at this kind of work and recognised immediately that blades would make slow work on the solid oak beams that confronted them. Dutifully, they passed this observation on to their commander. 

"Damn!" Sir Wilheim swore. "Ludwig... Ludwig... Do you know a thspell that will make thshort thrift of that doorway?" 

"I would, lord," the hedge wizard moaned, grabbing his stomach, "but these bowels of mine have been troubling me since I ate that pickled herring on the boat and I am not sure they'll hold up right and decent if I try with my magicks!

He cough and winced, as if to illustrate the point. 

"Just do it! And you men thsearch the houthse. I'll take the rethst of you over to that gnome character and see what he haths to thsay for himthself. Thsomeone muthst know thsomething about the local bandiths and I'd bet my blade that thethse foolths are in deep. Let'ths go!"

Behind the door the sounds of scraping furniture could be heard. Along with metallic clinks that could easily be weapons and armour being prepared. 

With that, Sir Wilheim marched along the path with three of his knights towards the tiny fellow working the fruit tree.

"One of thethse dayths I'll get the damn rethspect I am owed!" He muttered with frustration under his breath. 

As they approached the tiny humanoid, the gnome carefully climbed down from his ladder and picked up a small, but rather dangerous looking crossbow. Unbeknown to SirWilheim, this gnome wasn't just a humble apple picker. He was Little Ron, the infamous Gnome thief and he had explicit instructions what to do if such an incident like this occurred. 

So as the knights advanced, he carefully cocked his weapon. 

"It's often watery you know, watery! And that is on a good day! Any type of seed or cereal causes havoc with them, you see? I barely have time to get to the outhouse before its gushing out of me... and the smell! 

Ludwig continued in this vein until he reached the door, explaining that fish also cause problems for his digestive system in bad weather, then he lightly tapped one of the broad planks that made up the doorway with a filthy finger.

BOOM!

The door exploded backwards into a thousand tiny fragments. Black smoke swirled like dragon's tails. Somewhere inside the building a piercing whistle sounded...

And as if they had been waiting for that shrill call, two figures burst from the unguarded rear door and dashed around the corner of the house. Bob Lambshank, the halfling cook, came first (encouraged by the potential threat to his larder) while Otto the Zani drew his two blades behind him. 

With the door blown off its hinges, Sir Wilheim's knights rushed into the room with practiced efficiency. Spreading out, they engaged the bandits racing down the stairs. Sir Blau lead them into the melee, and was not surprised to see the fat, corpulent shepherd egging on the group of assailants before them. Despite the dance of daggers being played out around him, Sir Blau could make out their foes quite clearly despite the smoke. A wild bandit with long hair, dressed in the Albion fashion swung a sleek sword at one of his comrades while a savage looking half orc slashed wildly with a gigantic mace. 

Meanwhile, the two remaining knights out in the farmyard raced to reach the rear of the building, unsettling the sheep and casing them to buck at the fence of the pen that held them fast. 

Brock Fett smiled with satisfaction. These arrogant fools had thought to blast them to the gods with magic, yet he had been swift enough to order his followers upstairs. He has been ready for this day for years, as all bandits and robbers are, and his men were well versed in what to do if they were attacked. Axehavoc, his half-orc bodyguard, swung wildly with his mace and landed a crashing blow upon the shield of one of the knights, sending him staggering backwards. Brock smiled again, he may look slovenly, but he was a master swordsman, and these knights looked to be lacking in their trade!

Outside Lambshank and Otto clashed with the knights in the farmyard, but blades had hardly bounced from the early parries when the sheep broke free in a panic. Leaping wildly over the fence that trapped them, four of the smelly animals careered into the fighting men...

Sending them all crashing to the floor...

Alerted by the shrill whitsle, Little Ron let loose a bolt from his crossbow, but the projectile snickered into a nearby bush and vanished. Sir Wilheim charged forwards with his axe raised but the small gnome simply turned, made a few hurried signs with his fingers and walked off towards the distant tower. 

Sir Wilheim dashed after him, perplexed by the little creature's strange behaviour, and ran straight into a magical barrier that stopped him and his men, dead! They couldn't cross the invisible line to reach the watchtower! 

Smiling slyly, the gnome slipped away to do the Master's bidding...

The orc lay dying, his blue-black blood spreading like a gruesome stain across the flagstones. The Albion bandit struggled to stem the flow of blood that seeped from a severe cut along his neck, within moments he knew he'd be dead. Their boss, Brock Fett, stood between them as the flithy looking wizard who'd blasted the door off its hinges pointed forth his finger and let loose a fireball at the gurning bandit chief. 

Better to die in battle than burn like a pyre, the Albion thought as he died. A fire ball, all green fizz and anger, raced across the cramped space and collided with Brock. Incredibly, its terrible fire did little to harm the bandit and he emerged from the magic infused smoke with hardly a scratch.

Hardly believing his luck, Brock turned and fled as the knights and Ludwig were momentarily astonished by this miraculous escape. He darted through the undamaged rear door and out into the garden. 

One of the knight's axes split the halfing's shoulder in two, and the pitiful creature fell screaming to the floor. Otto caught sight of his leader fleeing into the garden and attempted to break off the fight with the remaining knight as his colleague finished off the squealing hobbit. Blood splattered across the bags of wool that lay abandoned in the burnt grass. 

Still dazed by the incredible luck of the bandit leader, another knight stepped out into the light of the farm yard and made his way along the space between the building and the hedge - he would bring that fat fool down. 

Moving with surprising speed for a man of his age with a nagging internal complaint, Ludwig sped into the garden. Brock dithered, and decided that fighting hand to hand with the wizard was preferable to taking a second fireball in the chest. Turning, he landed a brutal blow on the wizards arm that wounded the spellcaster slightly. As the older man collapsed, Brock landed a hefty kick in his victim's ribs knocking the sense of the wizard's mind. 

Frustrated by the magical barrier, and concerned by the sounds of battle behind him, Sir Wilheim left his men to try and find a gap in the magical wall. From where he was standing he could make out the brightly coloured surcoats worn by his men as they rushed about the farm. Faint smoke still rose from the area of the front door. A sudden scream rang out...

And was silenced by a sword as Otto had his head sliced from his shoulders. His killer calmly cleaned his blade on the stinking furs he'd worn about his person while his colleagues searched the farm building for any sign of the stolen undergarments. Despite uncovering a great deal of stolen goods, there was no immediate sign of what they were really here for. 

As the wizard staggered back to his feet, he caught sight of Brock leaping over the hedge. Though Ludwig didn't know it yet, the fat bandit was making the same quick signs with his hands as the gnome had done minutes previously. Passing through the magical barrier, Brock made his way towards the looming shape of the watchtower on the hill. 

His master would have questions...

To be concluded....

If you're interested, here are the character stats that I devised for the baddies in the game. As you can see, only Brock Fett was a real threat to Dan's forces, being a Level 10 hero. Still, once in contact with another player things didn't go as I thought, with Dan sending his prime fighter. Sir Wilheim, off wandering the trackways rather than dealing with the bandits. 

It didn't change the result much, bar Ludwig taking two wounds from Brock in the fight in the garden as the knights were more than a match for a bunch of bandits. Dan's dice rolling was poor, especially with his fireball spells (which he loves using) and it was his higher SV really got him through the fight at the farm house, rather than the improved weapon skill.

I always planned for him to be able to deal with the bandits with little trouble and included a little puzzle for him to solve in the magical barrier. 

The Villains

Brock Fett, Bandit Chief, Level 10

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
4	6	3	4	4	3	4	2	8	7	7	7

Hand Weapon SV 5+

Axehavoc, Half Orc Bodyguard

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3.5	3	3	3	3	1	3	1	7	6	7	7

Hand Weapon Light Armour SV 5+

The Two Brigands, Otto and Donald.

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3.5	3	3	3	3	1	3	1	7	7	7	7

Hand Weapons, Light Armour SV 5+

Bob Lambshank, Halfling Cook

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
2.5	2	4	2	2	1	5	1	6	7	6	8

Hand Weapon Light Armour SV 5+

Little Ron, Gnome Thief

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
2.5	4	3	3	2	1	3	1	8	7	7	8

Hand Weapon Light Armour SV 5+