Friday, 15 January 2016

Blood and Thunder. WHF Campaign Game 1.

General Custoras bloody hated spiders! He hated this particular spider even more then the tiny, sneering, green, miscreant sitting on its' back!

At least the Gobbo had learnt to fear cold, sharp, Imperial steel. Unlike the giant arachnid he was riding which had cowled his beautiful Demigryphs.

Custoras turned away from the baleful, red eyes of the Goblin General and surveyed the other participants of this parley.

The Slink Priest stood there, alien and aloof. Rags had told him that the Priest was probably following instructions laid down millennia ago by their Gods and Sigmar help anyone who tried to disrupt the wishes of their Gods.

The four Generals meet on the large hill in the centre of the battlefield to talk terms. Their armies eye each other warily around the outskirts.
The forth participant was a mystery to Custoras. The Dwarf General was sweating profusely from the climb up the steep hill while wearing heavy armour.

Good let the stuntie, little, bastard sweat!

All four armies had fought each other to a stand still in this cursed isle and this truce had been called to discuss terms.

Custoras glanced over his shoulder at his personal body guard arrayed at the edge of the forest clearing, their beautifully wrought, armour glinting in the rising sun.

Suddenly the trees transform into Dryads and charge into the parleying Generals!

As he was about to turn back to his fellow protagonists, a small movement from one of the surrounding trees caught his eye. His hand had barely touched the pummel of his sword when the forest had erupted into a frenzy of shrieking, wooded demons!

My General gallops down the hill as the rest of my forces run forward to support.

"Treachery!" he had bellowed at the other Generals! 

In warning or accusation no one was sure but the results were the same. His body guard of mounted knights had spurred their steeds towards their General at full tilt as the hill had erupted into a blizzard of movement.

Custoras cascaded down the hill at full gallop.

"I just have to make it to my Knights" Custoras thought "and then we will have our revenge on the treacherous cur . . . . . .WHOEVER that may be!

My Gryphs pitch into the nearest unit of Phil's Dwarves to stop them cutting off Custoras' retreat.

This Saturday night past saw four of us convene at the 'Shed of Lead' at 'Rom on the ford', with 750 point armies for the start of Neils WHF campaign.

What follows is a series of photos and a few comments as the four way battle (with Neil acting a 5th column) was pure chaos.

Fun chaos but still chaos!

As always my Gryphs get busy and rip into the Dwarves.

My Knights crash into the flank of the Dwarf Thunderers.

On the left Lano (Lizards) and Tookey (Goblins) manoeuvre their forces

The Goblin Wizard lines up the Lizardmen with a Gobbo spell.

It cannons straight through the unit and all the Lizardmen need to roll against their initiative (of  ONE to survive). Unsurprisingly few survive the roll!

Turn three and the Dryad reinforcements arrive! They are randomly generated and crash into the flank of my attacking Knights. I am now fighting on two fronts but as long as nothing charges me in the rear I should be fine. . . . .

BOLL ORKS!!!!!!!!!


On the left the Goblin Spiders follow up on the magic spell and try to dispatch the Giant Dino.

Despite the flurry of attacks I only suffer one casualty. My good luck continues into the new year and I pass the moral check with room to spare.

ANOTHER unit of Dryads appear and charge in on the Knights!!

But are no match for my re-formed Knights!

Then my Demigryphs boil into the flank of the Dryads.

Porn shot.

Finally some Dryads appear somewhere else. This unleashes the feared Goblin Fanatics!

My Knights and Gryphs finish off the Dwarves and my General escapes off the table edge to plan his revenge.

In the end I managed to get my General off the back table edge (which was the objective of the battle) and I suffered no permanent casualties. Result!

My main adversary, Phil got his General off the Field (mostly) intact but I had pretty much decimated his forces (I have an unreasonable hatred against unpainted miniatures. I can't help it!).

I am pretty sure Lano and Tookey lost their Generals to the Dryads and smashed each other to pieces on the opposite flank. I have no idea what their permanent casualties were.

This is how Neil wrote up the battle.

Sorry about the grey in white text. It is something to do with copying the text from the email he sent me.

There is a lot there but it's good stuff.

Rage of the Treekin

A Parley of Warlords : Tomorrow, in the woods

Hallbreaker stood silently watching as the Forge Master walked into the distance alone and headed towards the fiery beacon that illuminated the top of a distant hill. Stroking his beard in one hand as his other unconsciously played with the runes etched on Doorbiter his axe of many battles, Hallbreaker worried after his Lord being both unaccustomed to being away from him and the possibility of failing in his oath to protect his liege. Also from the reports that the outlaying Rangers were bringing in things did not look good. He had advised Forge Master Gommil against attending the parley that the strange Fey Elven Sorceress had arranged but Gommil’s mind was set arguing that the battle with the vile Goblins, Humans and Lizardmen had seen to the death of many Dwarfkin and their numbers were dangerously low. If diplomacy would allow for the survival of the remains of Gommil’s battered force then he would see it through and upon his return would swear to record the names of his enemies in the Book of Grudges and caste a new Rune of Smiting. Though Hallbreaker had not liked his words he could see the sense in them as the news from the Rangers was grim. Although the Forge Lord’s bodyguard held the rocky encampment they were currently occupying, the news was that Humans had been seen to their east riding heavy armored horses, a warband of the Old Croaks were hidden within the marsh area to the south and to the north a vast host of vile Goblins with their poisonous spider mounts has been spotted skirting the edges of the Forest. Hallbreaker watched as his Lord disappeared in to the darkness gripping the hammer of the Allfather which hung loosely around his neck and whispered a prayer of protection for him. Turning to the nearby veteran Hammerers he barked the order for readiness making his own oath to be ready to march to Lord Goimmil if and more likely when he called.


The slim lithe figure of the Skink glided to a halt sitting perched on a rock besides the campfire where the Magic Woman had called the parley. Slim of build and with a grace born of both blessing from the Gods and practice within the fighting pits of Coatl he settled into a cross legged position. Though small in size Ixhua-Ekko, known to his birth-spawn as the Golden Face of Pahahaux was Chieftan of both the Skink Spawnbloods and their larger cousins who escorted them. Ixhau wore his feathered chieftains mantle well with it’s many feathers displaying both his victories and successful mating skills for all to see and be both jealous and wary of. Though the brightly coloured feathers marked him well as a leader amongst Slann they paled in comparison to the golden helmet he wore. Thick and shaped to resemble the face of the Star-God Pahahaux it signified him as truly one marked for greatness and was rumored to have been given to him by the Great Priest himself. Few knew that many of Ixhau’s victories both on the battlefield and in the spawn-pools was due to the helmet and its ability for the Great Priest to speak to him in his mind, allowing for him to predict the near future and be ready for what it held. In exchange Ixhau was a servant of the Great Priest and that suited him well seeming to him a fair trade off. The Great Priest had sent him here ahead of his bodyguard and when He spoke Ixhau obeyed. He waited as instructed for the other Lords to arrive. Ixhau could hear whispers on the edge of his mind singing words of danger but sit he did never the less and await the arrivals of the Kings of the young races trusting both himself, the Great Priest and the blessing of Pahahaux to keep him from harm.


Snitterbitch hissed snapping at the vines that had jerked her face back so suddenly and craned her stubby neck in a desperate but futile attempt to snap at her rider. Above her, holding her barbed reins and sitting firmly on her back Big Boss Spiderbitter lifted his spear as and waved his tribe on, manically cackling to himself as the flood of Goblins surged around him through the forest and headed towards the faint glow of the hill fire beyond chanting their battle song as they went;

“Spin, weave and beat,
Cut, weave and eat,
Stabbing spear and poison war,
What spiders weave is our meat”

Spiderbitter stabbed down forcing Snitterbitch ahead enjoying her hissing protests. He knew hiding on the edge of the forest risked the wrath of the dreaded Forest Stalkers but so far they had left his warband alone and who could blame them? The Goblins were many, only a foolish Stalker would dare attack the tribe and if they did then they would be food for us he grinned to himself. Thinking of food made his belly rumble so pulling on a string hanging from the crude saddle he sat on he retrieved the severed leg of a human who had been stupid enough to challenge him in battle. Taking a bite of the decomposed flesh he chewed as he rode. Ahead he could see the edge of the forest where he would leave his tribe to ride ahead and meet the his enemies that had been arranged by the Stalker Shaman. He could not understand why enemies would meet, it was either kill or be killed in his eyes but if the stupid humans wanted to die then who was he to stop them? He had no doubt he would kill them all but to know of their numbers would be good, after all he had a lot of Goblin mouths to feed and if they did feed on his enemies then they would turn and feed on him and that would not do at all. Pondering his future and prodding his spear once again in to the ill tempered spider Spiderbitter rode on. 


Giorgio rode alone his heavy armor heavy on his bones as the his tired body was driven on by his will alone. As his warcharger felt her way through the slippery rocky slope that led to the firelight above him he scanned the darkness around him ready for an ambush. He did not trust the fairy sorcerer who had appeared unannounced to him and calling him to the parley on the hill. He trusted neither the fey Elves or their magick and the Sorceress stank of both which galled him but with the Fyrd gone, destroyed and left for dead in the past two days of battle and with only the Knights of the Order left alive what choice did he have? Unable to answer his own question he continued towards the light above. Ahead of him he could see a figure moving on the same path as he though unaware of him following. His arm strayed towards his sword buckled at his side and he rode closer until the figure, on hearing him turned to face him revealing a broad sturdy frame and a beard long and flowing.
“Who be ye traveling in the darkness?” the figure asked, setting their legs square and sliding a large axe from his back.
“One who would not see you down there if it was not for the flames in your beard” Giorgio replied aware of the prickly nature of the Mountain Folk.
“Then come forward and be recognised plains rider” the Dwarf said ominously. Clearly I am not the only one who suspects a trap, mused Giorgio. Kicking the warcharger into a slow canter rode forwards Giorgio pushed up his helm.
“I am Giorgio Custoras Dwarf, well met. I am calling on the parley as decreed by the Sorceress. We are at peace, though in truth I have my doubts of this venture. Will you lower that axe and I in turn will not draw my blade?”
“Well met Giorgio of the plains and be welcome for tonight for I too call parley, though your nag looks like she is only fit for a stew. Come closer and we will go together to this merry gathering together. I am Gommil the Forge Master and I am already tired of this foolishness. Tonight I will walk will you but tomorrow who knows.”
Giorgio slid off his mount and led her to the red bearded dwarf whom turned is back on the armoured knight in apparent ease and continued to climb the hill towards the beconing flame of the campfire ahead.
Tonight my friend you are one less axe at my back but tomorrow, who knows? Giorgio surmised as he followed the dwarf. Let’s see how this ends.


 Ixhua-Ekko sat on the rock at peace with himself. Opposite of him stood the tall metal wearing Human and with him the stocky muscled Dwarf. Nearby and foul smelling, a Goblin sat atop a large red fanged spider. The tension in the air was palatable as each argued of their superior strength and claim to the treasures of the burial mounds though none seemed to be able to dominate the others. The voices in his head continued to whisper to him warning him of danger and though the other Lords of War were oblivious to this Ixhau-Ekko calmly waited for the real foe who had brought them all here to reveal themselves.  He was not surprised as before long the Dwarf and the Goblin after trading insults seemed poised to ignore the parley and attack each other outright. Sensing that the time of dange was near Ixhau stood up and gently slid off of his rock.
Scanning around him he could only see the darkness, the moon and the trees and though his senses screamed warning at him he could not see the attack that he knew that would befall them all.
Suddenly it made sense. Trees? There were no trees when he walked the stony path to the top of the hill so how could there be so now? 
It was at this moment the trees struck.
Surging around the small group the forest closed in on them. The Human and Dwarf both quick to react drew their weapons and back to back began hewing and chopping at the wood limbs assailing them. The Goblin was not so quick however and pulled by thick stiff arms of a nightmare Elm was dragged form his mount and into the night.
Ixhau jumped clear of a flailing wooden fist and pulsed a mind command to his retinue for help whilst dodging the tall tree forms that now revealed themselves from the darkness around him. Nearby he could hear the shouts of betrayal and alarm from the other Lords no doubt summoning their own bodyguards to their aid as he had done his own.

Leaping lightly down the rocks Ixhau headed for the safety of the marsh but his way was blocked by several huge Treemen who barred his path their willowy limbs reaching for his small form. Beyond them he could see the he Spawnbloods moving to his aid. Dodging a hefty blow as it mashed a rock whee he once had stood he slid his blade into the armpit of the tree severing the limb whilst dodging another cruel blow. Fighting hard but overwhelmed Ixhau found himself backed into a corner. As the fists rained down all he could do was shield himself and take the blows unaware that his retinue was fast approaching. With too many to dodge and parry he drifted into unconsciousness determined to die fighting. As the final blow laid him low the last thing he remembered was the feeling of being dragged away by his followers towards the darkness of the woods ahead.

Similarly Spiderbitter fared no better. Caught unawares by the forest approaching behind him he found himself nearly dragged from the saddle and beaten by heavy fists until he no longer knew what was going on. Luckily for him Snitterbitch  bolted and dragged him clear. Barely conscious he could see his Shaman leading his warriors at the nearby Lizardmen and throwing curses at them determined to prove his strength to take over the tribe should Spiderbitter die. The Lizardmen, content with the recovery of Ixhau-Ekko’s unconscious body seemed happy to withdraw and flee the murderous night using their cold armored bodies to shield themselves of the magick being thrown at them. Before long both the Goblin and Lizrdman armies withdrew into the forest to use the cover to hide their withdrawal unaware of what waited inside.

Giorgio rode clear of the ambush on the hill calling on his Knights to his aid. Crashing through the Treemen he quickly surveyed the lands around him. His Griffon Guard had responded well and assuming the Dwarves were the menace rode hard into combat charging the the Dwarf warriors  whom were hurrying towards the Forge Master, their massed charge bowling the small forms over and their lances impaling those who had tired to form a shieldwall. Alongside them the Knights of the Order moved into the flank their bright banners held high and rode into the Dwarf Thunderers moving to cover the attack again charging them before they could let their shots off from their vicious longrifles. The clash of sword and shield, Human and Dwarf echoed in the air as the two sides met, neither willing to give ground whilst both deadly in their skills as the two sides began to lay each other low. Giorgio eyed the combat and knew that he would be victorious as the although their stubbornness was legendary the Dwarves were no match of the heavy cavalry. As the remaining Dwarves formed an ever shrinking shieldwall he scanned the craggy landscape for Gommil to rid himself of a potential enemy whilst he was at his weakest but could not see the stocky Forge Master. 
Suddenly the forest around the knights powered into life as the knights were assailed by a host of the trees which animated from the forest. Hacking and chopping the knights turned to face their new enemy whilst keeping the Dwarves at bay. Seeing that his quarry had escaped and his knights would be overwhelmed by the forest Giorgio signaled a withdrawal and rode into the forest proper lest he lose his men for no reason. Let them fight amongst themselves he thought I will survive and I will conquer.

Hallbreaker slashed Doorbiter to either side of him desperately fending off the heavy horses that the Humans used and loved. Though the shieldwall held his brothers were dying to the lances of the Humans their weapons doing little to the heavy armour worn by both man and horse. Rallying his brothers Hallbreaker risked a glance to his right and was heartened to see Gommil the Forge Master staggering through a knot of trees his axe laying waste to the jerky limbs attempting to stop him and head towards the forest ahead clearly fleeing the battle. Good he thought, the Master is free and we have bought him the time he needs. Ordering the horn to sound the withdraw Hallbreaker and his men withdrew step by step away from the Knights and into the forest beyond, leaving their dead behind them. Unknown horrors might be ahead in the dark trees but least they would be free of this madness and back with the Forge Master. Silently to himself Hallbreaker swore revenge. The Dwarves would return and pay this treachery back threefold.


A knot of trees stood silent and sentient at the top of the hill, their limbs overhanging the small fire that the young races had gathered around and had bore witness to the meeting of the chattering children. One tree, more alive than the rest watched as the young races had argued and it had been he whom had whispered for the attack of the Treekin at his command. Though he had not moved he had marshaled his herd to victory and had scattered the young races driving them into the forest where he had wanted them to go.
The Oak had long learned that destiny took an age to come to be and it's patience had been rewarded this time as now four retreating armies moved into the forest towards the Ruins of Fulk. The Master of Trees like this, his plan to bring the Elves and their offspring Orion to his knees hinged on distraction and now a distraction he had.The young races would crash against the Elves, weakening the Elves like the winter frost during the beginning of spring. It would use the young races to its advantage to cause havoc to the Elves and in the meantime ensure that Orion would be laid low.

The civil war between Wood Elf and Treeman had begun and would see the Wild Woods victorious. If the corpses of the young races littered the ground to do so then so be it. The forest needed feeding after all.


  1. Great stuff, reminds me of heady days playing fluffy campaign after campaign, all unbalanced and loads of fun. Thanks for reminding me :-)

    1. That's the plan but I know the other fellas (and myself) will get more competative as the campaign goes on. It's the nature of the beast with us.

      Hopefully it will remain fun even as we get more competitive.

    2. I always play competitively! That's why I play goblins... Hang on!

    3. Nice try mate. I'm not falling for it!
      I saw you stomp lano and I am still smarting from my beating from you.


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