Some how this year I have ended up with a unit of 20 odd militia for
my Empire WHF army thanks to the unexpected foray into Mordheim! I have
to be honest they are of as much of a surprise to me as they are to you
as I have no plans to add this unit to my army for quite a while (if at
With the wrapping up of our current Mordheim campaign it only felt right to get the gang together for one last photoshoot.
have deliberately left out Crashhart, Rags, Nathan and the original
version of 'Red' as they are all attached to other elements of my WHF
Even so, is still quite a collection. A
big part of the reason was the fact I rolled horrendously during the
injury phase of each endgame, usually resulting in the death of at least
one of my warband (usually more!).
They are (left to right);
Front rank: Spook (shattered leg), Jeffery Archer (Dead), Red (Alive), Grim Ironjaw (Dead), Eric / Dread Lord Crashhart (Chest wound, Toughness 2), Cairo (Alive), Crazy Bob (Alive),
Middle rank: Archie (Dead), Arnold Leggenbreaker (Alive), Hal Bard (Dead), Shinobi Joe (Alive), Kate (Dead), Spike (Dead),
Rear rank: Wenchman (Captured / Dead), Guapo Joe (Dead), Original Eric (Alive), Wild eyed Joe (Dead).
The Broken King stood upon the parapit of the gate house and despaired at the sight of his ruined capital before him.
The Comet had hit while he was away on crusade. Within the blink of an eye his once great capital had been destroyed. With the destruction of his seat of government, his kingdom had fragmented like a cart wheel without it's hub.
Insidious forces both within and beyond his borders had struck at his weakened state with vulpine hunger, ripping his kingdom apart.
Thankfully the first battle of the Gatehouse had been won, his toe hold on his city secured! Now onwards to the Temple of 'Sigmar is AWESOME!'
"Bloody heck...... Look at the size of that Wyrdstone!" Chuck Boris exclaimed loudly as he scraped the last of the dirt away from the wyrdstone horde.
"Hush boy!" The Butcher rebuked him angrily. "The walls have ears here son!"
Thankfully the rumours of the buried horde were true, but if they had heard rumours of this find surely others had as well.
Suddenly a gun shot rung out, shattering the silence of the dusk! Its' impact splintered the fence post near Grimli's face.
Grimli glimpsed nerviously through the new hole in the fence to catch a glimpse of their assailants.
"Its those poxy Marenburgers again, but this time their tooled up with hand cannons!"
The Butcher glared around with his one good eye. "Good! It saves me the trouble of tramping round the streets of this Gods forsaken shit hole looking for them! Its a hundred gold coins bounty for every archer dropped boys!"
The mournful howl echoed through the cemetery of St Doffer.
"Wolves?" Grub enquired.
The Engineer Napoleon scanned the little of the horizon he could see "No son.....Worse......... Wulfen!" He replied, "and he's not alone!".
Chuck Boris sidled up to the pair. Through laboured breaths he reported "It could be worse. Hopefully its' belly will be full of the Marenburgers I have just spotted entering through the other gate, by the time we get there. Their bloody miles away!"
"Or........ We could save ourselves the long walk and sod off back to the Pub now?" Grub ventured.
"Kiss my axe!"
Suddenly a large shadow loomed over them and the baleful gaze of their leader "The Butcher" glared down at them. "Enough of that talk boy. Forward and watch out for arrows. Those poxy Marenburgers will have someones eye out one day!"