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Narrative Hijack of SCGT 2017

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UPDATE: Full checklist can be found here!   NHoS17 Checklist_v2.pdf


The Altar of Azyr, a fabled location highly sought after by the Grand Alliances.


Your army, among hundreds of others, has gathered to seek this prize, but equally to further your own goals.

The actions of your general, a veteran of countless battles, will be retold by scribes for decades to come.

Your regiments will make a name for themselves, either for renown or ignominy.


This is your STORY, this is the Narrative Hijacking of SCGT 2017.


Welcome to the NHoS17, a narrative side-event for participants of the UK's largest AoS tournament. With the permission of the organisers, this is an optional activity promoting narrative play and giving another goal to fight for (especially when you're on the bottom tables!)

How does this work?

The following two pages should explain it all, but simply put, it's like Narrative AoS Bingo. 

Those interested only need to sign up in this thread, post their army's fluff and just tick off the checklist on the weekend of SCGT. Note there are some items on the checklist that will only be revealed a week before the event, so check back again then!




How do I win?

No prizes will be given on the day, but after the weekend, participants will be asked to post their filled in checklists in this thread and the player with the most points ticked off would be crowned as the winner! In an event of a tie, I'd decide based on the army backstory & goal in the first page.

Are there actual prizes?

Who knows, but the Narrative Event Organiser Network (NEON) may have something in store B|

I want to post my army's backstory, painting progress etc in the run-up to SCGT and even battle reports of my games! Can I post it here?

Sure thing! Your actions only helps drive some interest in Narrative Play, which works well together with a Matched Play event to give it some extra flavour.

I'm sadly not at SCGT, can I still participate?

Unfortunately this will only be open to those actually at the event, but feel free to use the checklist for your own games or other events!

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List of those taking part in NHoS17:

1) Ben Smith

2) Steve Foote

3) Dan Barwick - The Sharp Claw Garrison

4) Ben Johnson

5) The Nameless One

6) Sean Houghton

7) Jimbo Warth

8) John Masters

9) Ben Crowe

10) Steve Wren

11) Alexander Nygard - Royal Legion of Khahara

12) Benny P - Icetouched Ogors

13) Adam James

14) Matt (KnightFire)

15) Donal Taylor

16) Rich Morley - Soul Blight Bretonnians

17) Rob Bradley

18) Matt Lyons



Hinterlands or Triumph & Treachery Games organised:

1) Friday - T&T: Sean Houghton, Ben Johnson, The Nameless One, Ben Crowe

2) Fri/Sat - Hinterlands: Dan Barwick & Soup Dragon looking for opponents

3) Fri - Adam, Alexander & Matt looking for opponents




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Carlton Smiles-Pomley III got back on his horse, Ovaltine, for the third time. Bruised, bloodied and burdened by history, he was not in the mood for an inspection, but, as his forefathers had done umpteen times before, he knew his men expected their leader to ‘check the helmets’, as this tradition had become known amongst the free folk. Falling off his horse for the fourth time, Carlton decided enough was enough, and walked her the rest of the way to the parade ground.

The town of Hatton, nestled in a secluded corner of the county of Anglesee,  was a relatively comfortable settlement in the vastness that was the continent of Compendiumnia. Although much of this land had long felt ignored by Sigmar and his new warriors, the people of Hatton had always been faithful to their God King, and were proud of their long held traditions. Carlton too held these traditions close to his heart. He could trace his lineage all the way back to the Age of Myth, some said even before then, back when the world was smaller, and lives simpler.

The legend of the Smiles-Pomleys was, sadly, one of madness and treachery. The story told of a mad captain, fuelled by jealousy and hate, who, hungry for power and obsessed with headgear, had stolen a strange and powerful artefact – the hat of wizardry. It was this garment, many said, that had turned a meek and impotent man into a glowering, but stupid, monster. That man was named Carlton Smiles-Pomley, the first of his name.

Whatever the truth, over millennia the story took hold, not only on those who shared that name, but also on those who they commanded. Such was the power of the legend, that magic and all its mysterious mumbo jumbo was forbidden within Hatton and its environs. Never would a wizard dare to enter those town walls, nor would they be welcomed to fight alongside the noble free peoples.

Having said that, even without the age old fear of the wizard, many of noble birth chose not to fight alongside Carlton. Not only was his horsemanship challenging at best, but he had a  terrible digestive syndrome, causing flatulence that not only created a nasal disturbance to his peers, but was also so loud, that many of his orders were misheard. Numerous were the times when a call of “Archers!Loose Front and Centre !” had been misinterpreted as “Marchers! Goose! Grunt and Censor!!”. This famously came to a head during the Rout of Waywatcher Hill when the order “Send reinforcements, we’re going to advance” was reportedly misheard as “Send three and four pence, we’re going to a dance”. And so, able to make excuses, the noble elite quietly tended to their shrubberies, whilst the men went forth to war, nosegays at the ready.

Arrayed resplendent in the yellow and purple of House Smiles-Pomley, the Freeguild Regiment stood proudly for their liege lord’s inspection. Recently returned from battling the dread Tomb Kings at the Battle of Legacious Hill, the stout men wore their plumage with the pride only a man in a doublet and jerkin could understand. Their armour, not as ostentatious as their Brettonian neighbours, was more practical than emblematic, but could still withstand the choppa of an Orc.

But there would be no Orc to fight where they were going. Nay, the Greenskins that they would be facing were now named Orruk. Recently they had faced this new horror, when  they were beaten by a brutish clan of Ironjaws, far larger than even the Black Orcs that roamed the land of Compendiumnia. Even Tomb Kings were becoming scarce, and no one had seen a knight of Breton for years.

Carlton’s thoughts wandered to other changes he had witnessed during his time in charge. The Town square, now a roundabout. The ale house “The Four Corners” rebranded as “The Round Table”. Even his State Troops, notoriously difficult to teach new tricks, had renamed themselves as “Freeguild Guard”. Carlton had even been forced by the townsfolk to burn his Huey Lewis and the News vinyl collection.

But these were all details that paled into insignificance against the job in hand. The South Coast was under attack and a vast battle was expected. Carlton addressed his men. 

“We march to war! Not to battle the Beastmen, but the Brayherd! Not to smite the Dwarf, but the Duardin! Not to kill the Goblin, but the Grot! No longer can we rely on the tight formations of old! No longer can we expect to march safely past the line of sight of a nearby enemy and move out of their charge arc! The enemy has learnt to turn its head! We face a new challenge!”

“But we are men!” he continued. “We shall square up to these new horrors! We shall angle our attacks, and corner the enemy! We shall not be rounded by these usurpers! 

"What's he sayin’?” asked Greg, a Spearmen of much repute. “No idea” replied his brother in arms, Stan, “Summit about ‘shapes?”. “Oh well”, said Greg, “Come on, let’s have a quick drink before we set off. My round.”


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