The lord of Mordheim. The end of a 15 month campaign!!

Lord Crashart peered into the surrounding gloom and sighed heavily. This would be the last push to displace the Dwarves from the east of the river. He had emptied his coffers to recruit as many men as possible and had even called in a favour to have his old mucker Arnold Legbreaker join them for some added muscle. How Crashart was going to feed the big oaf was anyone's guess. Maybe Crash could shove him in front of a crossbow bolt during the battle?

How had it turned to shit so quick? This was supposed to be a simple 'smash and grab' into Mordheim while on the way to his retirement to that little brothel in Tilea.

15 months later and here he still was! Bearly scratching a living from the daily raids into Mordheim. His retirement funds pissed up the wall and hardly a bean to his name. His only choice now was to claim this God's forsaken pile of dirt as his own and fight off all comers to reap it's supposed riches.

Crash stared along the line of the remnants of his warband. How many had fallen in the twisting alleys and deserted courtyards of the cursed city over the last 15 months? How many of his starting warband were standing here today? Did he really care?

No, not really! Better anyone else then him!

Did 'Crazy Joe' and the others really think he did not know of their plan to knife him in the back on one of their many missions into Mordheim and leave him here to rot? Did they really think he did not know of their disdain for him?

'Well here I stand you bastards!' he thought, and come the day when he no longer needed them there would be a reckoning!

But for now there was only the battle ahead. Crashart checked his powder one last time, kissed his lucky charm and ordered his men forward. . . . . 

There could be no escape from  Mordheim!

Shortshank redemption pt.16. The rampage of Ale-Axe-Ander!

"Peek a boo!"

Keel Grymm did not know what disconcerted him more; the horrifically scarred form of Ale Axe Ander and his rising blood lust or the drooling, one armed monstrosity that the once proud 'Nailz' had now become. 

If they wanted to admit it or not the result was the same. The extended time thay had spent in this cursed city had had an irredeemable effect on them. Regardless how much Wyrdstone and riches they finally fled this hell hole with they would never be welcomed back by their clan. The taint of this city now run too deep in their veins!

Shortshank redemption pt.15. Knowledge is power!

So it turns out games this summer are like buses. . . . . . You wait ages for one and then three come along at once!!

Sunday I get a call from my Brother wondering if a game was a possibility. 10pm he rocks up and finds the board set out thus......

This will be a battle for the library section of the map. The set up above is supposed to represent the ruined library and the surrounding houses.

Both of us had made the effort to rewrite your warband roster sheets in order to re-orientate ourselves with our warbands. This proved to be a worthwhile task as both Kris and I rediscovered all sorts of abilities, skills and character upgrades we had forgotten about.

This would lead us to have an absolute epic, see-saw, knifed edge battle. Probably the best game of Mordheim I have ever played and that is saying something!!!

Shortshank redemption pt.14. Sigmar looks after Drunks and children!

This Friday my Brother and I finally managed to meet up and play another chapter of our ongoing Mordheim campaign.

Game 14 would be an 'occupy' scenario with us needeing to occupy 3 central buildings. We decided that we needed to have a conclussion so decided that whoever held the most buildings would sneak the win.

Unlucky for some. Mordheim double header, games 12 and 13.

Crazy Joe emptied the contents of the sack unceremoniously on the ground and stepped back. The bewildered form of the tavern's Halfling cook starred up in wild eyed confusion at the mercenaries now surrounding him. 

Lord Crashart bent forward and thrust a short bow into the Halflings chest. "Right you little git here's the deal. You shut up, tool up and follow us through the Gargoyle gates, OR we stuff you back in the sack, leave you here and wait to see what finds you first!".

Dildo the Halfling plonked his cooking pot on his head and chewed thoughtfully on a chicken leg he had stashed in his pocket . . . "FINE!" he replied "But don't think I won't piss in your soup tonight"!

Crazy Joe turned away dejected. Was this really what they had been reduced to since their decimation? Press ganging Halfling cooks and Mandrake root addicts from Cutthroats Den?

With it being the half term my brother and I managed to fit in a couple of games of our ongoing Mordheim Campaign.

These were only going to be short sharp games as our previous encounter had left me in all sorts of bother.

 First game (game 12) rolled up as a 'hidden treasure' scenario.

I'm a prodigal son. A black sheep of a white flock. Mordheim game 11.

Keel Grymm the Engineer could not believe they were only 3 hours into the funeral dirge of Ale-Axe-Ander!

They had ringed the pyre with salt and ensured the flames had taken hold before retiring to the tavern to begin the Saga of Ale-Axe-Ander. Even the Reiklanders had sent flowers!

Suddenly the door exploded in on it's hinges and the horrificially burned form of Ale-Axe-Ander stood in the doorway glaring at the Dwarves with a baleful gaze!

"You dozy bastards!" he muttering through his blistered lips . . . . . . . 

Shortshank redemption pt.10. Street fighting man.

Crazy Joe could hear  the others complaining ahead of him and could not care less. Joe could not give a damn if the area this close to the East Gatehouse had probably been picked clean by hundreds of Warbands before them! 

They had not spent three weeks in the infirmary after going head to head with the Dwarf leader like he had! And look at the state of Crashart after their last foray. So what if he was called 'Crazy Joe', he only did it to make himself sound scary. Besides there is a big difference between being crazy and suicidal!

Shortshank redemption pt.9. Ask not for whom the bell tolls.

Crashart was in two minds; Ben had insisted there was a massive haul of Wyrdstone buried here but with his lips sewn shut who knows what the silly sod was mumbling? Even more disconcerting was Ben drawing pictures of 'the Pit' in his own blood, on his room walls. At least he hoped it was his own blood! A LOT of the tavern staff had gone missing recently.

Was Ben really sure about the Wyrdstone or did he just want to peer upon the outskirts of 'the Pit' again? Crashart really had to get out of this madhouse soon!

Shortshank redemption pt.8. Saved by the Shell?

Ben could sense its' presence! Like a bottomless pit within his mind, sucking all the sanity and compassion from him.

This close to the pit he could so nearly discern the bearly audible whisperings that had been taunting him in both his dreams and while awake. This close to the pit he felt he was on the cusp of deciphering the whispers and the infinite knowledge they contained. Taunting him, coaxing him to listen harder, to come closer, to wonder, to question and questions can get you killed in Mordheim . . . . . . or worse!

Shortshank redemption pt.7. The quay to the city?

Crashart did not know what was more disconcerting; the smell of the putrid river being carried on the stagnant air or the vision of the youngblood Ben, with his newly shaven head and self mutilation where he had sown his own lips together with leather twine.

Crash guessed the blow Ben took to the head last foray was harder then he first thought.

Crash did not even want to imagine how the silly sod ate now! Maybe he REALLY liked soup?

To add to his depression  the bloody Dwarves were following them again! Despite their bloody nose last encounter they were still making a habit of following the Reiklanders and nicking their Wyrdstone off them on the way home.

Did they not realise all I wanted to do was grab enough Wyrdstone to desert this shithole and retire to a nice, cheap, brothel in his homeland of Tilea and leave all this foolishness behind him?

Shortshank redemption pt 6. The battle of the Rock.

The sheer walls of the fortress loomed out of the thick mists, caused by the wide river. The 'Rock' was once a vast bastion, controlling access and trade along the mighty river. That was a long time ago and the large garrison had fled or been driven to madness long ago.

The massive sprawl of deserted brothels and shops at it's gates; Crashart and his warband was now trawling through in search of Wyrdstone; spoke volumes of the wealth that once flowed through this edifice.

Crashart smiled to himself as he drifted into revery, remembering happier days when he was just a dashing, young, sell sword, in exceptionially fine trousers with a purse full of gold to flash; trawling these houses of ill repute and catching the clap like it was going out of fashion.

Suddenly a gun shot rung out, shattering the silence of the dusk and snapping Crashart back to the present! Its' impact splintered the fence post near Crashart's face.

Crashhart glimpsed nerviously through the new hole in the fence to catch a glimpse of their assailants.

"Its those poxy Dwarves again, but this time their tooled up with hand cannons!"

Shortshank redemption pt 5. Rescue.

Spook tried to focus on the bulls eye on the dartboard at the other side of the inn but he had to admit the copious amounts of grog he had downed coupled with the roaring of the crowd, betting against him made it difficult. He released the arrow straight and true and within the blink of an eye had strung the second arrow.

Then disaster! The force of the first arrow knocked the board from it's perch and tumbling to the ground behind a table. Crashart walked up to the board and roared along with the rest of the crowd as he pointed at the board on the ground.

Within a heart beat Spook adjusted his aim and ricocheted his second arrow off a shield hanging off a wall peg and towards Crasharts groin!

A loud clang rung through the bar as the arrow bounced off Crashart's cod piece and buried itself into the obscured dartboard. A loud groan resounded through the bar from the far crowd as Crashart fainted to the ground, confirming Spook had hit the bulls eye with the second arrow!

As Spook turned to collect his winnings Archie asked him "How did you know he was wearing his reinforced cod piece?"

Spook just winked "I didn't!" he replied!

Shortshank redemption pt 4. Smash and grab.

Crazy Joe caught Bill's eye and raised an enquiring eyebrow. Bill nodded curtly. It had been agreed last night. Crashart would lead them all to their deaths, Lord Crashart meets his end now! 

"We will do it during our foray tonight" they decided earlier. Just another corpse in a City of cadavers!

Crazy Joe slowly drew his stiletto and approached Crashart from behind with murderous intent.

Suddenly a crossbow bolt flew past Joe's face, missing him by a hairs breath!

"Sod off you lot!" a gruff voice boomed into the night "The treasure is ours!".

Joe dove for the shadows and sheathed his dagger 'Deaths' whisper'.

"Treasure eh!" Joe though "I guess Crashart meets his end after this skirmish. At the very least the fool can act as a meat shield"!

Start the year as you mean to go on . . . . . LOSING!!

Lord Crashart peered out into the gathering gloom through the shattered window of the hovel. The lack of roof allowed the chill of the dusk to envelope them in it's numbing cloak!

"At least I'm not stuck up on the bloody roof like the new fella" Crashart thought to himself with a smirk.

They had found the rumoured Wyrd stone hoard with ease but the fabled treasure still eluded them. They had been frantically searching through the rubble of the Memorial Gardens when the new fella 'Papa' had raised the alarm!

Now several forms could be spied approaching through the encroaching gloom. Crashart slowly cocked his pistols and glanced over at 'Crazy Joe' who covered the doorway, an evil grin crossed his face at the thought of the slaughter ahead!