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  1. Calling all NEOs (Narrative Event Organizers) or those who want to become a NEO! We want to try something that, to our knowledge, has never been done before. On June 10, 2017, NEOs from around the globe will be hosting their own local one-day events where local players will gather at local venues to play games of Age of Sigmar that will affect a global narrative. The Event Pack will be created through a collaboration of NEOs you may know (RAW, RealmHoppers, Holy Wars & Holy Havoc, NOVA, Mengel Miniatures, Mortal Realms Podcast, Rolling Bad Podcast, & Tales of Sigmar Podcast). Inside the pack will be the following: Insanely creative and simple narrative that will give players a feeling of impact on the global narrative Simple Battleplans, Times of War, and Pairing tables that will fit the narrative and be easy to organize NEO Support information on how to organize an event, make arrangements with a venue, and run the event the day of. If you think you might want to become a NEO for this global narrative 1day event, please raise your hand below to start the conversation. More will be revealed soon! Join the NEO movement!
  2. HobbyHammer is pleased to present this AoS Narrative Event down in the South East of England by the sandy beach of Ramsgate on the weekend of the 29th and 30th July 2017 Welcome to the next instalment of The Rise of Empires series! We really wanted to bring you a 2 day full event as soon as possible. Be prepared for a full 2 day immersive story telling event! This event is limited to 24 persons so make sure you get in there quick. Over the course of the two days, you will be thrown into an immersive map campaign telling epic tales of your army pushing for territories. This will be played over various sized games from Skirmish level to full on warfare. There will be events happening over the weekend that will set you back or propel you forward into dominance as this is of course.. The Year of Change! You will also have the opportunity to create your own General and play him throughout the campaign in a first for narrative event. Do not come here thinking this is a tournament where the winner will be there person who majors all their games. This is a narrative event in which the story comes first. We want the hobby to take president and as such awesome prizes and awards shall be given for hobby and narrative orientated feats. There shall be no prize for overall Champion. Instead for Best Army (Painted) Coolest Army (Themed) Most Epic moment Highest Renown Best Sportsman Best Story Worst Luck! We will also have the venue open on the Saturday evening for open gaming and drinking. The Pack will be coming shortly. So stay tuned for that. Tickets are priced at £40 and includes lunch on both days, there is a bar in the venue serving anything you like (including Real Ales), these are all very well priced as it is a social club. Tickets will go on sale at 8pm on the 26th February, it will be first come, first serve and decided by the timestamp of the PayPal transaction. If you do not get a ticket you will have option to have full refund or be placed on the reserve list in case of drop outs. Anyone who sends money before 8pm will be placed to the back of the queue. Last day for refunds is the 1st July. (after this, it is hard to find replacements) Paypal £40 to sean.houghton11@gmail.com (friends and family) Write your real name, email address and contact details in the comments box. Who is ready to defend their territories and expand their empires? Rise of Empires: Border Wars - Narrative Event - Margate (29th/30th July)
  3. The Quest to Leave Ulgu The five warriors wandered aimlessly. Finding a Realmgate through the mist and shadows of Ulgu was no easy task. Although the Stormcast Eternals are magically imbued with a fraction of Sigmar’s power, the strength of these five lost souls was declining by the day. Tibalt, one of the three Liberators that had joined Valirius, was anxious about being lost in the realm of Shadows, and he secretly hoped that this anxiety was well hidden from his brothers. Courage and strength in the face of adversity was a defining element of belonging to the Hammers of Sigmar, and he knew that any show of cowardice or weakness would be met with disdain. The further they traveled, however, the uneasier he felt, as the weight of his new-found vulnerability compounded with his memories of this place. As a child, before becoming a Stormcast Eternal, he was told many Stories of devils and monsters that hid in the mist, and in his mind, he felt as if the very mist around him was alive. Feeling as close to defeat as they have ever before, the warriors prayed to Sigmar for aid. During their prayers, the wind blew and swirled around them, and for a fraction of a second, it formed what seemed to be an outline of a person, before turning into a cloud and blowing north. To the five warriors, this seemed to have been the God King answering their prayers. As the Warriors followed the mist, they could see a Realmgate on the distant horizon. As they approached, they found it lifeless. Despite their many attempts to open the gate using their combined knowledge and experience, it remained closed to them. As they searched for a way to coerce the Realmgate into operation, the warriors heard a thunderous bellow behind them. “WAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!” The battlecry of an Orruk Warboss was unmistakable and the warriors felt a renewed sense of purpose burst into their flesh and fill their armour. A band of Greenskins, large and heavily armored, roared towards the Stormcast like a river bursting out of a broken dam. Behind them trailed a single Grot, with a crude bow in hand. The battle was short and brutal, as the Stormcast were caught off guard, outnumbered, and their lost connection to Sigmar left them weaker by each moment. Hammers and choppas clashed, the grunts and war-cries of the warriors and Orruks rang off the Realmgate and echoed through the mist. The Judicator Elric was ripped in half by the claws of the mighty Orruk Warboss Grogstick, who “waaghed” in triumph at the Stormcast’s death, offering the Judicator Elric’s head as tribute to Gork and Mork. The Remaining four Stormcast retreated from the battle, as the disembowelment and decapitation of their brother reminded them they were no longer guaranteed a rebirth in Azyr. As the four remaining Stormcast stopped to regroup far from their most recent battle and the closed Realmgate, the mist once again swirled around the warrior brothers. They watched as the mist seemed to come alive, weaving an unnatural path about them, caressing their gold armor and leaving dew in its wake. As they watched, it slowly took shape and formed into an Aelf. Tibalt recalled in his mind legends of a mistweaver from Ulgu, and was positive this was her. This was Lyanna of the Shadows…….
  4. The Following Pictures are current pictures of the warbands you will see in my stories. Most are currently WIPs and the pictures will be updated as they are painted. The "Lost Souls of Sigmar," the protaganists of our story are the creations of myself, Mrmattywoodz. The Ironjawz known as "The Dicks of Gork (or possibly Mork)" were painted by my brother Chopstick15. The beautifully painted Fyreslayers "The Berserker-gang of Ersatz Eightfold, the Runefather of karak long lost," are owned and painted by Tyromancer. "Snicket's Clawpack," are owned and painted by Kyle261.
  5. Prologue As Valirius Stronghammer fell, blighted-sword skewered through his chest, he had no fear. The blue lightning crackling from his brother’s weapons arcing across the Realm of Shadows was a grim reminder of his purpose; to be reborn a third time, a Weapon of the God King. As his eyes closed, his final act of this life would be to lash out with his mighty hammer, reducing the beast that had slain him to nothing more than a pile of ash. “For Sigmar!” Valirius bellowed, as his head hit the dirt. He knew his soul was on its way to Azyr to be reborn. He was on his way home. The Awakening Although his eyes were still closed, Valirius could feel himself gaining consciousness. He had been through the reforging process before, but this time it felt different. He felt the chill of the Sigmarite armor against his awakening flesh. As he regained his senses, he once again felt the burn of the Plaguebearer’s corrupt blade, and a seed of panic began to grow in the pit of his empty stomach. With growing trepidation, he opened his eyes and looked around in shock. There were no bright skies or heavenly sounds of Azyr. Instead, he found only the Shadows and Mists of Ulgu, the realm where he had been slain. Alarmed and disoriented, Valirius stood, searching for any sign of his Retributor brothers. Surveying the somber battlefield, defiled by Nurgle’s rot, he saw no signs of the rest of his chamber. A few sets of Sigmarite armor were scattered across the landscape, but they were all empty husks, Stormcast Eternals that wore the armor had been brought back to the Heavens, just as they should. Movement caught the Retributor’s eye; he turned his head to see four sets of armor standing up. He raced over to find four more Stormcast, just as disoriented as he. Why had they not been Returned to Azyr after death? No longer feeling the presence of the God King, the quintet knew what they must do next: seek out a Realmgate.
  6. Following on from the hugely successful Realms at War:Legends (#RAW16) event in November 2016, EATMingsFoote thought that we would share some photos of the event. We have found that AoS allows the creation of lush, elaborate tables full of all sorts of scenery, terrain and other features and this inspired us to create small parts of five of the Mortal Realms over which the players battled for two days. We will be releasing a series of posts dealing with each of the realms individually. These posts will include photos of the table after they were set up, some in game photos and also the Times of War that we wrote for each realm. We hope that these are interesting and useful. More info is on our RAW HQ page on TGA here: We're always more than happy to talk about RAW or anything to do with AoS so please feel free to message on TGA or for a quicker response, on twitter. We hope everyone enjoys this thread! Jimbo (@jimbo9jimbo) Ming @Thornshield (@Thornshield) Mitzy @Mitzy (@EATBATSMitzy) Steve @Devilreefman (@tinracersteve)
  7. Hello and welcome to the REALMS AT WAR Headquarters on TGA. What's this thread all about? We have a website/blog at www.realmsatwar.co.uk, but unlike HobbyHammer or Mengel Miniatures, we lack the discipline to update it. We don't have a narrative podcast like the Mortal Realms or Fjordhammer (but certainly enjoy being guests on them). But we do have endless enthusiasm for Narrative Play in the Age of Sigmar so we're gonna use this thread to reveal our inner workings! So who are you and what do you do? We are EATMingsFoote, a group of hobby-oriented nutjobs who will host the UK's BEST Narrative events on a regular basis (challenge thrown out there) under the moniker of Realms at War. From L-R: James Warth, General Secretary - @Jimbo Steve Foote, All-seeing Oracle - @Devilreefman Mark Mitzman, Chief Spokesman - @Mitzy Chairman Ming - @Thornshield In this thread we'll also share our work with everyone with an interest in Narrative play and to budding NEOs who could use some resources in hosting their own events. This includes Battleplans, Time of War rules, Warscrolls, terrain sketches and much more! That all sounds great, how can I participate? We'd be delighted for you to chat, comment and even criticise us in this thread, as it'll keep our motivations up and guide our actions as we plan the next event. If silent lurking is more your kind of thing, that's fine, just subscribe to the thread to keep up with the latest news but we'd love it if you said hi at some point. Apart from that, hopefully we'd see you at one of our events (or any other Narrative events for that matter). Lastly, do follow us on Twitter where we're most active. Our handles are: Jimbo - @jimbo9jimbo Mitzy - @EATBATSMitzy Ming - @Thornshield Steve - @tinracersteve Now let's chat Narrative in the Realms at War!
  8. First chapter of a series I'm going to be running based on my warband for hinterlands, all critiques and feedback welcome, hope you enjoy it. Chapter 1 - Dead man walking Tornburgh is a border town. A lawless settlement where money can buy you happiness or a dagger to the kidneys, depending on who you flash your coin at. It straddles the coastal edge of the swamp kingdom of Drang, yet owes no allegiance to the citadel. Its streets are full of merchants flogging smuggled goods, Slaves being auctioned to the highest bidder, unrecognisable food stalls and pleasure houses offering companionship for coin. None of this interested Wjolnir however as he fought his way through the midday crowds toward his destination. He pulled his hooded cloak tight to his chest as he darted into one of the many winding side alleys and made his way towards an unassuming timber building. He banged a fist against the door four times before the viewing panel was slid aside by a portly figure. "Your alive then! Who would have thought you would last this long" The large man cackled. The sound of sliding bolts was heard and the door was opened inwards and Wjolnir was beckoned in. The room he entered had a tiled floor and was lined with shelves filled with countless bottles and flasks. The most impressive thing however was the assortment of strange glass tubes and vials all connected by pipes and arranged on the rooms desk. Inside these tubes a substance was bubbling away and acrid smoke could be smelt. "This way" motioned the portly gentleman as he directed Wjolnir to a dimly lit room with a fireplace and a wooden bed. "Its spreading James, it wont stop bloody spreading" Wjolnir spat as the door was closed behind him. " Well best you take off your cloak and show me then so I know what we are dealing with." Wjolnir nodded and began to remove his cloak and shirt. Beneath his travelling shirt stained bandages were wrapped around his chest and left shoulder. As he unravelled the bandages the putrid smell of decay permeated the air, a forewarning of his supernatural ailment. The large man wrinkled his nose in disgust and clamped a perfumed rag to his mouth as he watched. Beneath the filthy bandages Wjolnir's skin was purple, mottled and strewn with boils and open sores. The wounds weeped thick pus and distorted with the rise and fall of his chest. "Gods be damned Wally, you should be 6 feet under by now!" Cursed the alchemist. " I feel like I already am" Wjolnir replied as the man began to investigate his wounds all while inhaling deeply through his sweet smelling handkerchief. " Can we quit the freak show and get to business already" Wjolnir snapped. " I don't think you understand, Salves wont help you, and magic wont help you. Your path is predetermined. The fact that you have lasted this long is the blessings of Sigmar but I fear that your luck can only last so long before you fall to this. No one survives Nurgle's Rot and even your coin cant buy you out of this one Wally. In simple terms, you are a dead man walking." Wjolnir left the alchemists with little of the enthusiasm he had arrived with. He pulled his hood up over his balding head and headed for the nearest tavern. If his destiny was to succumb to disease he would at least get blind drunk before hand...
  9. Chapter 4 – The hull of the boat cut effortlessly through the glistening water as it carried Wjolnir further along the coast line. On the horizon, the sun was beginning to rise and was soaking everything it touched with a peach glow. Any other time this would have lifted his spirits and brought back memories of his childhood summers, spent fishing for small trout in the villages river. Today however it just irritated him. It was a painful reminder of a pleasure he would soon have taken from him by his impending death. The only escape from the plague was death and anything else was just delaying the inevitable. That was if the Tornburgh mercenaries didn’t catch up with him first and put him to the sword. Despondency crept in and he considered putting himself out of his misery while he still had control of his destiny. The thought was a brief fleeting one that held no real bearing on him. He was far too much of a coward to make such a bold move. No, he would wait out his fate and spend his final days lamenting his luck and the cruel humour of the gods. No doubt when the time came for him to shuffle off this mortal coil he would cry and soil himself, making sure he had no dignity to take with him to the beyond. An unexpected giggle burst from his throat as the ridiculous image flashed through his mind’s eye. He idly wiped away tears that had been forming in his tired eyes with the back of his rough filthy hand and let a small grin escape from his chapped lips. He gripped the wheel and pulled it hard toward land. Along the shore was a coniferous forest that dominated the landscape. The great green expanse was thickly packed and would allow him to travel inland without being seen. He knew of several small hamlets where he could live out his days in relative comfort on the coin he had saved throughout his career in the black market, keeping him in wine and women until he eventually succumbed to the rot in his body. He ran the boat at a relative speed into the shallows and the bottom of the vessel ran aground in the rocks, screeching to a halt. Usually this would have angered Wjolnir however he would never captain the boat again and resented the idea of it serving anyone else after him. A fickle thought perhaps but he had spent so long aboard the ship in his years that it felt like part of his very being, to have anyone else at the wheel would feel like adultery. Opening the thick framed timber door to the cabin he began to collect any belongings he thought he may need. Into a small leather knap sack he carefully packed a thick blanket, dried meats, his ancient tinder kit, a change of clothes and the remainder of his coin. He slid out of his fur jacket, carelessly dropping it in a pile at his feet. Over the top of his hauberk he buttoned up a white travelling shirt and slid a heavy woollen, hooded poncho over his head. The oversized hood covered his face and gave him the appearance of a peasant, a look that he hoped would prevent anyone attempting to relieve him of his belongings. He slung the knapsack over his good shoulder and stooped to pick up a rough iron axe with a hickory handle. The axe head was ground heavier on one side to allow the axe to be used for carving timber, however this would not hinder its use in felling a tree or scaring off would be attackers. With his belongings in check he sighed and made his way off his beloved boat. He vaulted the hull and landed with a splash in waist deep water. The shock of the cold water stole his breath and for a moment he could do nothing but exhale in short, sharp breaths as his body adjusted to the temperature. As his breath returned he started to wade toward the forest. His feet sank gently into the sandy, gravel strewn shore, making the walk harder than he had anticipated. By the time he had reached the boundary of the wood he felt drained. The forest looked far more imposing than it had done from the beach and he was beginning to question if entering it was such a good idea. After a small pause to get his breath back he threw caution to the wind and strode into the woodland as confidently as he could. What seemed like hours had passed as he stumbled over fallen trees and forced himself through tightly packed gorse hedges. He had managed to scratch himself on the short thorns above his eyes and the sweat from his brow was stinging as it mingled with the wounds. He paused for a moment to take a pull from his flask and felt a sense of tranquillity wash over him as he soaked in the natural atmosphere. Little light made it through the thick canopy and it lent the forest a supernatural quality. He slid the heavy knapsack from his shoulder to the floor and sat down with his back against a great pine tree. He laid his hand axe by his side and helped himself to a strip of the dried beef from his provisions. Its texture was that of rough leather however he was used to the less than pleasurable rations he had carried with him on his travels. He sat in the dim light chewing the meat and scanning the surrounding area for any movement. A thick layer of moss covered the floor here and he could hear nothing but the evening bird song and the occasional rustle of the forests denizens. He rested his eyes and allowed himself to drift off, planning to continue his journey after a small nap. In his dream, he was running from an unknown assailant through a boggy marsh, each step propelling him through the damp darkness toward a clearing ahead. A droning buzzing noise filled his ears overwhelming his senses, blocking out all other noise. It felt as if it was coming from within his mind instead of around him. Swarms of flies encircled him and darted at his face. He wildly flailed his arms trying to swot them away as he ran. The clearing was closer. He was almost there. He broke through the tree line and the swarm of flies dissipated in the light. He turned his head to see his attacker and saw a wave of shadow rushing toward him. Everything the shadow touched within the marsh shrivelled into an empty husk of itself. Trees collapsed under their own weight as rotten timber gave way, animals and birds decomposed in an instant and the very earth became logged with mould and fungal growth. His foot gave way underneath him as he slipped in the clearing and he fell face first into the wet moss. He panicked and tried to raise himself from the wet floor but found mould and filth growing at an alarming rate over his limbs, pinning him to the ground. He looked up in desperation and saw the ground before him erupt, earth and filth showered over him as a gargantuan figure rose from the crater. The figure was comprised of a huge mound of blubbery flesh that rose higher than the highest tree. The sheer bulk of the creature was impossible to comprehend and it moved in a way that didn’t seem physically possible. Its skin was mottled with pus filled boils, scars wounds and open sores that created a mosaic of pain. Its face was comprised of a long grinning mouth beneath dark pitted eyes that pierced into his very soul and showed a flicker of evil sentience that no man should ever see. Its sour breath reeked of death, decay and faecal matter. The creatures great gut split open and swarms of giggling creatures burst forth dancing and frolicking in the beast’s entrails and bodily fluids, gnawing on his flesh and tearing through his milky yellow fat. Wjolnir retched and spilled the contents of his stomach into the dirt. The great being’s mouth parted revealing worm filled teeth etched with dark lines and stained as brown as earth. It spoke a single word and Wjolnir’s bladder failed him. “SERVE” He awoke with a start and reached instinctively for his axe. He was dripping with sweat and his trousers were soaked with bitter smelling urine. The realisation that it had been a dream crept in and he began to relax as the shame of his ‘accident’ settled in. He reached into his knapsack for a change of clothes and cursed under his breath, was there no end to the torment he must endure? As he was rummaging through his belongings he caught site of a figure out of the corner of his eye. He rose sharply and raised his axe at the unknown person. In front of him, sitting cross legged on mound of moss was a tiny humanoid figure, draped in old torn robes giggling to itself. The face was obscured from his view by the things hood however the skin that was exposed was pitted, pale and translucent. The thin frame of the creature was withered and feeble. It altogether seemed sickly and weak however something primal within him screamed to turn and flee. “Explain yourself or I will sever your head from your body!” he shouted at the thing. It began giggling in a gurgling manner and pointed a thin emaciated finger at him, its hood slipping, exposing a sunken warped face that resembled skin stretched too loosely over a large drum. It spoke with a voice that seemed to come from within rather than from the creature’s mouth. “You have been chosen Master Wjolnir, I have come to aid your transcendence on behalf of the father”. The creatures gurgling laughter reached a crescendo of madness and Wjolnir’s blood ran cold.
  10. Chapter 3 – Escape He trembled with rage and his breath came in short angry bursts. His shirt had been ripped off in the confrontation and he was now squatted, bare chested, over the corpse of the headless man. The small alley resembled a slaughterhouse, blood had pooled beneath the dead body and bits of brain and skull littered the area. Wjolnir had not avoided the bodily debris and was covered in what was left of the bandit’s face. His fists throbbed and ached from pummelling the bloody mass of flesh underneath him and as the adrenaline left his system he became more aware of that pain. His hands darted to his infected shoulder as he remembered his stab wound, however when he inspected it he could only feel mottled flesh and the tumorous tissue of his affliction. He had not imagined the wound, for blood and milky pus still clotted and dried on his chest. He thought that the infection had spread further up his neck but couldn’t be sure without a mirror. Gods, what had come over him! He had never considered himself a violent man and this, this was far outside of his morale capabilities. A sudden sense of shame overwhelmed him and he scrambled to his feet off the desecrated body. A cloying sense of fear creeped in like a cold breeze and his head swam with the realisation of how fucked he really was. He couldn’t stay in the settlement now, someone would have heard the commotion and the thugs that passed for the town guard were probably already alerted. True, these bandits probably wouldn’t be missed by many but no one wants a killer around while they sleep. Wjolnir bent down and retrieved his coin purse from the first bandit’s fingers. They were colder than fingers ought to be and had already begun to stiffen. He pocketed his coin and fled toward the docks. Wjolnir fumbled with the knots that bound his vessel to the mooring post, his usually deft fingers failing him in his panic. His vessel was nothing more than a small sailing boat with a cabin on the rear of its deck. It had no name painted into the hull and no fancy etching or paint work. In the smuggling trade, it had paid to be inconspicuous when travelling and he thanked the gods for that foresight now. Gripping a long wooden pole from within the boat he pushed away from the dock and began to punt the boat towards the flow of the water way. The sail raised easily in the steady evening breeze and began to carry him away from the town. He left the boat to its own devices momentarily while he nipped into the cabin and retrieved a flask of fresh water, a chainmail hauberk and a fur lined coat. He rinsed the filth of the attack from himself with the water and took a long gulp from the flask. The water was cool and made his teeth ache intensely for a moment before dulling away. The chainmail hauberk proved far colder than the water however its metallic rings felt almost soothing against the rotting flesh of his tainted shoulder. Finally, he slipped the coat around his aching body and stepped back on to the deck and the glistening moonlight. The boat had veered toward the bank slightly so he grabbed the wheel behind the mast and corrected its course. From the deck of the boat he could see torchlight at the docks behind him. Judging by the number of torches he could see it appeared that this was not the early rising fishermen attending their vessels. Pulling a tightly would cord above him he dropped the main sail fully and aimed for the ocean. He had no location in mind, however anywhere but here sounded fine to him at that moment.
  11. Chapter 3 – Escape He trembled with rage and his breath came in short angry bursts. His shirt had been ripped off in the confrontation and he was now squatted, bare chested, over the corpse of the headless man. The small alley resembled a slaughterhouse, blood had pooled beneath the dead body and bits of brain and skull littered the area. Wjolnir had not avoided the bodily debris and was covered in what was left of the bandit’s face. His fists throbbed and ached from pummelling the bloody mass of flesh underneath him and as the adrenaline left his system he became more aware of that pain. His hands darted to his infected shoulder as he remembered his stab wound, however when he inspected it he could only feel mottled flesh and the tumorous tissue of his affliction. He had not imagined the wound, for blood and milky pus still clotted and dried on his chest. He thought that the infection had spread further up his neck but couldn’t be sure without a mirror. Gods, what had come over him! He had never considered himself a violent man and this, this was far outside of his morale capabilities. A sudden sense of shame overwhelmed him and he scrambled to his feet off the desecrated body. A cloying sense of fear creeped in like a cold breeze and his head swam with the realisation of how fucked he really was. He couldn’t stay in the settlement now, someone would have heard the commotion and the thugs that passed for the town guard were probably already alerted. True, these bandits probably wouldn’t be missed by many but no one wants a killer around while they sleep. Wjolnir bent down and retrieved his coin purse from the first bandit’s fingers. They were colder than fingers ought to be and had already begun to stiffen. He pocketed his coin and fled toward the docks. Wjolnir fumbled with the knots that bound his vessel to the mooring post, his usually deft fingers failing him in his panic. His vessel was nothing more than a small sailing boat with a cabin on the rear of its deck. It had no name painted into the hull and no fancy etching or paint work. In the smuggling trade, it had paid to be inconspicuous when travelling and he thanked the gods for that foresight now. Gripping a long wooden pole from within the boat he pushed away from the dock and began to punt the boat towards the flow of the water way. The sail raised easily in the steady evening breeze and began to carry him away from the town. He left the boat to its own devices momentarily while he nipped into the cabin and retrieved a flask of fresh water, a chainmail hauberk and a fur lined coat. He rinsed the filth of the attack from himself with the water and took a long gulp from the flask. The water was cool and made his teeth ache intensely for a moment before dulling away. The chainmail hauberk proved far colder than the water however its metallic rings felt almost soothing against the rotting flesh of his tainted shoulder. Finally, he slipped the coat around his aching body and stepped back on to the deck and the glistening moonlight. The boat had veered toward the bank slightly so he grabbed the wheel behind the mast and corrected its course. From the deck of the boat he could see torchlight at the docks behind him. Judging by the number of torches he could see it appeared that this was not the early rising fishermen attending their vessels. Pulling a tightly wrapped cord above him, he dropped the main sail fully and aimed for the ocean. He had no location in mind, however anywhere but here sounded fine to him at that moment.
  12. Chapter 2 – Headache The liquor tasted like roasted almonds and burned as it slid down his throat. Wjolnir had barely touched the bottle in front of him however he had already begun perspiring and his head was swimming. He was seated in a dark corner of a dive bar called ‘The Boars Nipple’ minding his own business and considering his options. Nothing brings clarity to a man’s thoughts like his impending death. He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler while taking a strong drag of smoke from his pipe, exhaling billowy clouds from his nostrils. On one hand, he could stay here and drink away the coin he had saved over the years and on the other he could leave to ‘see the sites’ as he had often heard it called. In truth, he knew that he only had one option. As soon as people caught wind of his affliction he would be cast out of the settlement before he even had a chance to collect his belongings. That of course was if he wasn’t burned alive to cleanse his diseased body first. He shuddered at the thought and drained the spirit in his glass. He rose from his seat and dropped four coins on the bar, nodded to the owner and left. The streets were mostly abandoned this time of night, only the most committed of prostitutes were still working. Rain beat down against his face as he staggered down a deserted side street that lead to the docks. Behind him he heard footsteps ringing out on the cobble stones. As he turned to fuel his curiosity he was caught with a savage blow from a sword pommel across his face. Pain shot through Wjolnir’s temples as he hit the filthy floor. Cold hands pinned him down and his cloak was ripped away from him. He forced open his heavy eyelids and saw two grizzly faces bearing down upon him. Struggling he tried to force himself up and felt the blade of a sword pressed against his chest. “Don’t facking move, or I’ll cut yer bollocks off” grunted one of the thieves through yellow teeth. The other bandit grabbed for his coin pouch and he instinctively grabbed at the mans wrist. Pain shot through his shoulder as the first bandit thrust the short sword into his flesh. Wjolnir screamed in pain as the cold metal pierced his skin and muscle. The smell of rotting flesh erupted from the wound and a loud hissing sound could be heard. “What the ******!” yelled the bandit as he pulled his sword loose and stared at the bubbling blade. Wjolnir took full advantage of the bandits distraction and grabbed his wrist and forced the decaying blade through his partners neck. His throat erupted in a scarlet flare as he choked on his own bile, while the other man was left still holding on to the swords handle. He stumbled back in shock and tripped over his own feet. In a flash Wjolnir was on top of him, grabbing handfuls of his hair and slamming his head on the flagstones. Bone cracked with each impact as the base of his skull was scattered across the floor. The bandit feebly clawed at Wjolnir for mere moments before his hands laid twitching in the congealing blood around him as his head was smashed again and again until Wjolnir’s fists were smashing wet pulp and bone fragments into stone
  13. Tornburgh is a border town. A lawless settlement where money can buy you happiness or a dagger to the kidneys, depending on who you flash your coin at. It straddles the coastal edge of the swamp kingdom of Drang, yet owes no allegiance to the citadel. Its streets are full of merchants flogging smuggled goods, Slaves being auctioned to the highest bidder, unrecognisable food stalls and ****** houses offering companionship for coin. None of this interested Wjolnir however as he fought his way through the midday crowds toward his destination. He pulled his hooded cloak tight to his chest as he darted into one of the many winding side alleys and made his way towards an unassuming timber building. He banged a fist against the door four times before the viewing panel was slid aside by a portly figure. "Your alive then! Who would have thought you would last this long" The large man cackled. The sound of sliding bolts was heard and the door was opened inwards and Wjolnir was beckoned in. The room he entered had a tiled floor and was lined with shelves filled with countless bottles and flasks. The most impressive thing however was the assortment of strange glass tubes and vials all connected by pipes and arranged on the rooms desk. Inside these tubes a substance was bubbling away and acrid smoke could be smelt. "This way" motioned the portly gentleman as he directed Wjolnir to a dimly lit room with a fireplace and a wooden bed. "Its spreading James, it wont stop bloody spreading" Wjolnir spat as the door was closed behind him. " Well best you take off your cloak and show me then so I know what we are dealing with." Wjolnir nodded and began to remove his cloak and shirt. Beneath his travelling shirt stained bandages were wrapped around his chest and left shoulder. As he unravelled the bandages the putrid smell of decay permeated the air, a forewarning of his supernatural ailment. The large man wrinkled his nose in disgust and clamped a perfumed rag to his mouth as he watched. Beneath the filthy bandages Wjolnir's skin was purple, mottled and strewn with boils and open sores. The wounds weeped thick pus and distorted with the rise and fall of his chest. "Gods be damned Wally, you should be 6 feet under by now!" Cursed the alchemist. " I feel like I already am" Wjolnir replied as the man began to investigate his wounds all while inhaling deeply through his sweet smelling handkerchief. " Can we quit the freak show and get to business already" Wjolnir snapped. " I don't think you understand, Salves wont help you, and magic wont help you. Your path is predetermined. The fact that you have lasted this long is the blessings of Sigmar but I fear that your luck can only last so long before you fall to this. No one survives Nurgle's Rot and even your coin cant buy you out of this one Wally. In simple terms, you are a dead man walking." Wjolnir left the alchemists with little of the enthusiasm he had arrived with. He pulled his hood up over his balding head and headed for the nearest tavern. If his destiny was to succumb to disease he would at least get blind drunk before hand...
  14. Chapter 2 – Headache The liquor tasted like roasted almonds and burned as it slid down his throat. Wjolnir had barely touched the bottle in front of him however he had already begun perspiring and his head was swimming. He was seated in a dark corner of a dive bar called ‘The Boars Nipple’ minding his own business and considering his options. Nothing brings clarity to a man’s thoughts like his impending death. He swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler while taking a strong drag of smoke from his pipe, exhaling billowy clouds from his nostrils. On one hand, he could stay here and drink away the coin he had saved over the years and on the other he could leave to ‘see the sites’ as he had often heard it called. In truth, he knew that he only had one option. As soon as people caught wind of his affliction he would be cast out of the settlement before he even had a chance to collect his belongings. That of course was if he wasn’t burned alive to cleanse his diseased body first. He shuddered at the thought and drained the spirit in his glass. He rose from his seat and dropped four coins on the bar, nodded to the owner and left. The streets were mostly abandoned this time of night, only the most committed of prostitutes were still working. Rain beat down against his face as he staggered down a deserted side street that lead to the docks. Behind him he heard footsteps ringing out on the cobble stones. As he turned to fuel his curiosity he was caught with a savage blow from a sword pommel across his face. Pain shot through Wjolnir’s temples as he hit the filthy floor. Cold hands pinned him down and his cloak was ripped away from him. He forced open his heavy eyelids and saw two grizzly faces bearing down upon him. Struggling he tried to force himself up and felt the blade of a sword pressed against his chest. “Don’t facking move, or I’ll cut yer bollocks off” grunted one of the thieves through yellow teeth. The other bandit grabbed for his coin pouch and he instinctively grabbed at the mans wrist. Pain shot through his shoulder as the first bandit thrust the short sword into his flesh. Wjolnir screamed in pain as the cold metal pierced his skin and muscle. The smell of rotting flesh erupted from the wound and a loud hissing sound could be heard. “What the ******!” yelled the bandit as he pulled his sword loose and stared at the bubbling blade. Wjolnir took full advantage of the bandits distraction and grabbed his wrist and forced the decaying blade through his partners neck. His throat erupted in a scarlet flare as he choked on his own bile, while the other man was left still holding on to the swords handle. He stumbled back in shock and tripped over his own feet. In a flash Wjolnir was on top of him, grabbing handfuls of his hair and slamming his head on the flagstones. Bone cracked with each impact as the base of his skull was scattered across the floor. The bandit feebly clawed at Wjolnir for mere moments before his hands laid twitching in the congealing blood around him as his head was smashed again and again until Wjolnir’s fists were smashing wet pulp and bone fragments into stone
  15. Version 1.0.0

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    Welcome to Border Wars! The newest online map campaign for Age of Sigmar. Please download the document if you would like to get involved in this worldwide online AoS campaign, paint, play and write. Gain your territory and expand your empire. Please visit http://www.theriseofempires.com for more information.
  16. Hey guys, Recently heard about AoS28 which has completely grabbed me by the narratives. I am gonna try my hand at a small warband that I have been wanting to do for years inspired by Berserk, Junji Ito novels, Lord of the Rings and plenty of stories about heroes who fall from grace. The story behind the warband will be about a hero who has drawn the eye of Papa Nurgle and is a reluctant minion of chaos, trying to evade nurgles messengers while battling the corrupting pestilence that has been bestowed upon him by his unwanted lord. The champion of the warband is not a follower of chaos and has no ties to the dark powers. He is nothing more than a mortal with the usual mortal selfishness, greed and desires. The battle reports I post will hopefully mark the fall of the character and his descent into madness that drives him into accepting Nurgles embrace and drags his retinue with him. This is all WIP and may change, especially when I get a chance to properly go through the Hinterlands rules. Characters: Wjolnir's Retinue Leader: Wjolnir | A former smuggler cursed with a growing plague that has covered the left hand side of his face and body with angry sores and boils, a tell tale sign of nurgles involvement. He is harrased by nurglings, plagubearers, visions and hallucination, all promising him reprieve if he submits to the Grandfather of disease. Wizard: Unnamed Seer | An old crone who has taken to following Wjolnir, recognising his true potential and power. While never truly travelling with the retinue the seer is always nearby watching and aiding from the shadows with the grace of a puppeteer pulling strings. Wjolnir regards her as an ally of convenience. Elite: Shan Rackham | Originally Shan was a hired bodyguard to Wjolnir who served as the heavy muscle when business deals went wrong. But people should not be fooled by his immense size, Wjolnir quickly recognised that Shan possessed a keen mind as well as martial prowess and he quickly became a trusted confidant and friend. Shan accompanies the retinue in service of its captain, serving as his second in command and most talented fighter. Warriors: Originally leading a vast band of mercenaries, most of Wjolnirs followers have left for more lucrative business propositions or fled seeing their captain cursed by the gods. The remaining stragglers are slaves and those who see Wjolnir's affliction as a blessing and see him as a herald in human form. Wjolnir is a cursed individual destined to be challenged by those seeking nurgles favour, religious zealots and witch hunters. He is a veteran of many brawls and handy with a vast array of weapons but this can take its toll on even the hardiest of individuals and he is no exception. His greatest enemy is himself as he struggles with his inner demons and his faltering body. He struggles to stay positive in the face of such adversity as he knows should he falter he will surely become a pawn of the ruinous powers.
  17. I have a small treat to share with you all today! As many of you likely know, Vince and I are headed off today for Holy Havok this weekend and we're super stoked. For those that don't know about Holy Havok, it is a new team narrative event/tournament in the Chicago area which is put on by the Holy Wars club and, much like its predecessor Holy Wars GT, it is renowned for its fantastic tables. This event was organized prior to the General Handbook's release so it has some pretty interesting force composition rules. Teams are instructed to bring 24 Warscrolls of forces from a single grand alliance (so both Archaon and 10 Plaguebearers would count as a single Warscroll choice for example) but it is well known that the five scenarios are going to be based around objectives that require a high model count. So while Archaon is clearly not equal in power level to 10 plaguebearers, teams need to build their list in such a way as to have both high model counts and enough killing power to neutralize enemy forces (all while not knowing the scenarios). Vince and I devoted a Warhammer weekly episode to the event where we had the head of the Holy Wars Council Steve Herner on so I'd encourage you to check it out here. You can also read more about these narrative events at their website. If you've been following Warhammer Weekly, you know that Vince and I have put together a Chaos force centered around The End Times and Archaon's attempts to gather the same personalities and bring about the end -- again. The "surprise" today is that I'm making available the army booklet with the background narrative to our force, the war scrolls with images of our models, and the composition of our (filthy) list which we've been talking about for a couple months. You can download our "army book" here. Please understand that while the pictures are ours, we do not own the photo images used they are the property of their respective owners. This is an amateur fan-made army book for this event and no profit will be made off of it. For those interested in following the events, Beasts of War will be live blogging the events this weekend and you'll likely see some updates from us here and in some live stream videos that I'll post as well.
  18. I really found myself inspired by the write-up on Warhammer Community about how Andy Chambers ran his Gate of Stars campaign as it has a little more meat to it than what made it in the GHB. I've been trying to light a fire under the St. Louis community for a while and I've decided to throw all my creative efforts into getting everyone I can to play in a narrative map campaign. As the path of least resistance I yoinked Andy's document, changed out all the fluff, made a new map (not nearly as cool but it's what I can do), and changed a few of the rules bits to make it my style. The campaign is centered around the Greywater Reach from last summer's Season of War as I found the idea of a forge-city in Ghyran too cool to pass up. The campaign will deal with the fallout from the Season of War as new threats descend. I thought I'd share my efforts for anyone to use or pillage as needed. You can find my version of Andy's campaign doc here. I also have our first month's campaign newsletter ready to go here. We're kicking off in mid-January and I am excited. I just hope this gets the other locals excited, too.
  19. Inspired by the excellent discussion @Kamose about narrative and matched play I decided to share my experiences with a narrative (but with matched play rules) campaign I'm running with a couple of friends. Also as i'm writing this up I would like to thank everybody on this forum that helped me design this campaign by giving feedback or just sharing their experiences. The total campaign can be found below. Honshu is a recently discovered island filled with untold riches and ripe for the plunder. Four greedy and ambitious pirate captains set sail but only one will succeed. One brave slayer pirate captain is looking for a glorious death or, failing that, riches. Supported by his former clan he sets sail to Honshu. From the Ogre Kingdoms comes a former Maneater who has always dreamt of becoming a Pirate King. With the discovery of Honshu, the promise of treasure is finally big enough to form his own Ogre crew. A Dark Elf Black Ark Fleetmaster is looking to make his name by plundering, raiding and razing every place of name or value. The island Honshu will be the first stepping stone to get a position in the court of Malekith. A particularly sneaky Skaven Warlock has convinced a warlord to embark on the pirate life. While the warlord thinks he is after the riches of Honshu, the warlock will be going after the relics of the Old Ones. And if the Warlord finds out... well it's the nature of a rat to abandon a sinking ship. The first campaign day saw all players decide where to make landfall. As ever welcoming host I managed to roll a 1 so I had no choice in the matter. On the north end of the island the dwarfs grabbed the initiative and decided to claim 4. Bamburgh Castle and the mine for the ability to bring an extra war machine. The Ogres had to make 6. Bone castle their temporary home, gaining the benefit of 3. shimmer-glass spire buffing their magic. On the South East end the Dark Elves (me) made landfall first. While my captain and most of the crew were busy on a supply run a small contingent was left behind to protect the ship. However late at night the always sneaky Skaven arrived. The Skaven Warlord had sent a small group of rats to steal the supplies of the Elves. While the Dark Elves were busy 'inspecting' the inside of various bars the sneaky Skaven managed to get the cargo of the ship. They decided to stick together and run quick-quick through the left flank. They had three pieces of essential cargo with them. If they managed to carry them out of town they would seize the initiative and seriously hamper the Dark Elf Captain. But on the third turn the Dark Elves emerged but would it prove to be in time. While the Rats raced down the left flank, the Elves moved to intercept them. When the forces clashed the Skaven resistance seemed futile as the first three rats died but the survivors were holding on. And then the Executioner strode into the fray. But the unexpected happened. One lowly Skaven Clanrat sensed his chance for glory and treasure. He managed to single handedly kill the Executioner, two corsairs and a Shade. Furthermore he tied up the last corsairs while the rest of the Skaven managed to get away. The Skaven won a minor victory meaning they could decide where to hole up. The Skaven Captain decided to skulk around the southern edge away from all the action in typical Skaven fashion. Next up: the sadistic Dark Elves managed to capture a dwarf maiden to sacrifice. Of course the Dwarfs could not suffer this indignation and sailed forth to save her. But will they be in time? I will write up the next battle later today. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I had playing this game. The fact that the result directly effects the campaign was very exiting. And I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for that pesky clanrat.
  20. Hi all, I'm about the start a Path to Glory campaign against a mate who is about to pick up the hobby but just needs that final push. We will be playing Skaven vs Dispossessed (I edited the follower rolls etc to be roughly fair and where in doubt to give him the advantage). But it's my first Path to Glory campaign so all advice is welcome. I would prefer to give it a bit of a narrative spin but i'll work that out but still looking for that little piece of inspiration. Maybe a new scenario will do just that. 1. Do you have any general advice running a two player path to glory campaign that you would like to share? 2. What scenario's do you think a characterful or fun? Currently I have: The monolith Beast’s lair Altars of Chaos A skirmish battle (take a pick up to 150 coins/points, just to change it up) The Nagash scenario Battle of Valaya's gate. Thank you all!
  21. I've noticed that a frequent topic of discussion is how difficult it is to get a narrative pick-up game because of the amount of planning and being on the same page required. I'm working on a battleplan to aim to rectify that by using story-gaming principles to make a low-prep story oriented battleplan with a lot of replayability. It's not 100% finished yet, but the basic idea is that there are a bunch of options for 'objectives' that are thematic objects to fight over, and 'motivations' that are the things your army wants to do to those objects. So for example, if you have an objective that is the buildings in a village, an orruk army might want to burn them to the ground, while their opponent is trying to scout the village for supplies. It's an easy way to have evocative, mismatched victory conditions that help tell a story. The other important thing I'm focusing on with it is shifting the focus from tactical victory to storytelling. First off, instead of having Victory Points, players have Victory Dice, so you can't really know if you're winning/losing until it's over. Players also have a pool of Victory Dice that they can use to reward their opponent for cinematic gameplay, or to create their own objectives on the fly. I haven't gotten to playtest it yet, but I'm planning on trying it out this weekend. I'll come back and let you know how it goes. If anybody else decides to try it out, I'd love to hear any feedback!
  22. We hosted our 2nd year of AoS games at NOVA Open in 2016 and had a great time with a new narrative event which included 9 rounds of games in a linked series set in a small region of the Realm of Shadows. You can read a general report of the narrative with lots of pictures on the TGA post titled narrative at NOVA Open 2016. We're planning a larger narrative event in 2017, bringing back the ships we had last year along with some new features, calling it a grand narrative, which will include large and small battles across 6 different but linked events with 13 rounds of games to continue the struggle in Dawnland over the course of the 4-day convention during Labor Day weekend. I welcome and appreciate any feedback in the next week before registration goes live on February 1st concerning the player's guide on the PRIMER LINK. The post for this event in Virginia, USA is on the TGA CALENDAR And you can find out more about all of the AoS events we're planning--a matched play GT, a doubles team tournament, and a KidsHammer event here: http://www.novaopen.com/age-of-sigmar/
  23. Over the years, my wife tried Warhammer Fantasy and found it unappealing. But with the change to AoS she wanted to give it another try so we could play games together. We played a small demo, just to get her acquainted with the rules and assess if she would enjoy playing more. And she did! So now we are planning a long, slow burn action RPG AoS narrative campaign for us to play. The plan is for her to start with a single hero; a brave young woman bent on saving her village that is trapped in a realm filled with daemons and undead and chaos. As she hunts for additional help, she'll find other heroes and brave individuals willing to follow her. By the end, she'll be commanding a whole force that will fight through hordes of chaos to get back to and defend her village--with the goal of using magic to move the village to a safer place. I'll share rules that I build for this campaign on this post. We plan to do it slowly as we'd like to paint the models we use and build as much scenery as we can stomach for the campaign. Neither of us are great painters, but I think we'll enjoy the campaign more if we put down models that aren't just bare grey plastic. So I'll also post pictures of parts of the campaign as they happen. I'll be ordering her hero soon, but it may be weeks or a month until we are able to start. Until then I'll start brainstorming ideas and sessions. Would love to hear from people that have also done this kind of action-RPG AoS campaign!
  24. RAW2016 - RESULTS & FEEDBACK THREAD (Event thread here: http://www.tga.community/forums/topic/208-realms-at-war-legends/) We'd like to use this thread to hear your personal thoughts of the event, both the good and the bad. Especially the bad so we can make RAW17 even better. We'll be sending out an email to all attendees with a more detailed survey where we nail down certain aspects of the weekend. But for now, thanks for attending and please let us know your immediate thoughts on how it went! Jimbo - @jimbo9jimbo Mitzy - @EATBATSMitzy Ming - @Thornshield Steve - @tinracersteve #RAW16 Podcast Reviews: Age of SigBrah - https://thelostlighthouse.com/2016/11/25/age-of-sigbrah-ep-31-billy-claw-raiders/ Hard6 - https://soundcloud.com/hard6/episode-25 HeelanHammer - http://heelanhammer.com/ep164/ HobbyHammer - http://www.hobbyhammer.com/2016/11/podcast-prologue-episode-ohh-baby-i.html The Black Sun - http://theblacksun.co.uk/160117-realms-at-war-16-neo-report/
  25. I finally realized what I love most about the 'regular humans' armies in 40k and AoS. I get to name them! I've named every single Catachan Guardsman (and woman) in my IG army and intend to name every member of my growing Free Peoples force. I've just named my General on Warhorse "Johann Gambolputty von Hautkopft of Ulm". Its a Monty Python reference, and I know his real name is much longer but it wouldn't fit on the underside of a 60x35mm oval base. My General on foot is name "Apple-banger Horowitz" and my General with the banner will be christened "Burstein von Knackerthrasher". Amongst my Catachan Imperial Guard some of my favorites are Butch Deadlift, Bolt Vanderhuge, Buff Drinklots, Smitty McNotakroot, Lil' Hotness, and 'Your Mom! OOOOOHHHH!'. So how many people out there like to name their little plastic dude-man-bros? Do you go for thematic in-world names or just what you think would be funny? I think you can all see what I prefer but I'm curious.