AoS Hinterlands Campaign at the South London Legion (Wednesday 10 May)

[Nico]

The plot continues to unfold down at the South London Legion this Wednesday 10 May in the second week of the Hinterlands Campaign.

There will be the usual mixture of 2,000 point games going on too. If you have a smaller force, then someone will be happy to give you an introductory or demo game as well.

 

Croydon Conference Centre

5-9 Surrey Street

Croydon

Surrey CR0 1RG

 

@sthlondonlegion

[Tkaic]

A review of last week's Hinterlands games from my Warband's perspective, hoping to be back down this week to continue the adventures!

Hours had passed since the sudden arrival of Castor and Pollux. The irrepressible brothers had refused all Corum’s attempts to send them away and were now ranging ahead, equally devoted to scouting for possible danger and hunting fresh meat for dinner.

 Corum couldn’t shake the dark mood that filled him. He had never known anything like this in his many lives. He had always been a staunch warrior, devoted to his role in the ceaseless fight against evil. He had built a hundred fortresses and held them against overwhelming odds, countless foes turned back on numberless battlefields by his skill and daring. But then he had begun to dream and the dreams had begun to consume his whole life. When he sought counsel his comrades thought that maybe he was being called to the life of an Errant, but he had no inclination to hang up his armour and retire to a solitary cell until his quest came to him. Rather he found the familiar walls stifling, oppressive and he made ever more contrived excuses to be outside. Finally he had spoken with his brother Lords and obtained their permission to relinquish his post as Lord Castellant until he could find out what was driving him so.

He was brought back from his thoughts by the soft yip of his gryph hound. Looking through the thick trees he saw a shadowy armoured figure, scythe in hand. A warning growl from his pet confirmed his own immediate sense of danger. Halberd raised to attack he exploded into motion, doubts cast aside by the familiar adrenaline. His dreams could wait.

Starting band - Lord Castellant (50), Gryph Hound (40), Judicator (32) - 122 gold, 28 in the war chest

Game 1 was Assassination against Ben’s wolf-themed Stormcast (Lord Relictor, Errant-Questor, 2 Liberators). Although there are 2 Judicators in my fluff I only have the starting gold for one because gryph hounds are expensive.

 I won the roll off and so was cast as the dastardly assassin. As the Underdog I tried to build up some good karma (and prevent a no-fun game) by declaring that if I rolled the free move/infiltrate/poison blade results, I’d re-roll them. Then I went ahead and rolled a 1. Sigh.

 Ben managed to roll both his Liberators onto the table; turn 1’s hero phase saw his Errant Questor arrive as well and the game was very much an uphill struggle from the off.

 The group were clearly some twisted version of the Stormcast Eternals. He had duelled with a pair of Liberators who could almost have passed for the real thing. So close was the resemblance that he had pulled his own attacks, using the flat of his halberd to leave them unconscious rather than splitting them apart. Now a third gleaming warrior, wearing a helmet crafted into a snarling wolf’s head blocked his path, matching his strikes blow for blow.

 The sinister robed figure had fled from his wrath but now, safe behind its companion, it turned a hooded face back to the fight. Corum heard its voice raised in prayer. The words were intimately familiar to him, having heard his own Relictor intone those very phrases on countless battlefields. Behind his helm Corum’s face split into a wide grin. The poor creature was truly lost to believe that the God King would answer its prayers, let alone against one of his own chosen. He returned to the attack with renewed purpose. A sudden smell of ozone filled the air and all went black.

 My Castellant proved more than a match for line infantry, but all the heroes rolled badly against each other until the Lord Relictor stopped running and inflicted 3 mortal wounds with his lightning strike, killing off my Castellant.

 The aftermath netted me 16 gold and a host of minor injuries. Castor ending up at -1 to hit with his sword, the Gryph lost 1 inch of movement and Corum’s armour was obviously a bit melty after the lightning, at -1 to save. He did level though, gaining 1 inch of movement. I recruited a second Judicator and prepared to face Matty’s greenskinz.

 Corum awoke to the anxious face of Pollux looming over him. The Judicator was still carrying a brace of game birds skewered on an arrow. He had missed the entire battle while hunting.

“Lord, what happened? Castor’s taken a deep cut to the hand and your armour is badly burned.” The worry in Pollux’s voice was a stark contrast to his usual lighthearted tone.

Corum was silent for a moment before replying. “My faith is weak, brother. We came across what I took to be some Chaotic mockery of our Order, but their faith was stronger than mine. The God King himself struck me down!” His voice had risen to almost a shout and then suddenly tailed off again “Maybe I am the mockery…”

“Well. You’ve certainly taken a blow to the head, let’s have a proper look shall we?” Before Pollux could help him up, Corum smoothly rose to his feet. If anything he felt enlivened “We must continue, this only confirms what I thought. I am lost. No, worse. I am forsaken.”

Castor had joined his brother by now, identical looks of concern marring their faces. Further discussion was cut off, however, by the gryph hound exploding back into view from the undergrowth, swiftly pursued by an Orruk waving an axe.

“Come back chicken! Git needz eat!”

Leaving their leader’s existential crisis aside both Judicators drew their bows as one, releasing arrows into two more Orruks as they too burst from the forest into view. No one was eating one of their party…

 Game 2 was the Scroll. Matty’s warband was missing a Brute and a Savage to injury but still fielded his Big Boss, a brute and 3 Savage orc boyz.

 Turn 1 went well for me, with the Judicators wounding one boy and killing one who was already on -1 wound. The Castellant and Gryph hound charged into combat where the gryph promptly tore the throat out of the Boy who’d been most vociferous about trying to eat him. The rest of the combats were a damp squib.

Turn 2, however, saw the Big Boss hit Corum, who failed his armour save. D3 damage again…3 damage it is. Rampaging destruction in turn 3 saw the Judicators caught and quickly felled. I routed at that point, the gryph was bravely clutching 2 scroll fragments in his beak but couldn’t get near the others without risking being ripped limb from limb.

Fortunately my injury rolls were pretty good, no further negative modifiers but Castor will be missing the next scuffle while he heals up.

Current band - Lord Castellant (50), Gryph Hound (40), 2 x Judicator (64) - 154 gold, 63 in the warchest

 

Now, I don’t know if anyone’s going to have waded through all this, but, if you have, thanks! Corum stands at a bit of a cross roads. Maybe he’s been forsaken by Sigmar, maybe he’s just unlucky at facing D3 wounds. With 63 gold I can recruit some good guys (it’ll be flying Stormcast or elves of some flavour) or…morally ambiguous guys (humans). If anyone fancies voting for dark or light I’ll take that into consideration in the move towards Path To Glory.

 

 

 

[Leonardas]

End of week 1 fluff - as my Warband licks it wounds from the week 1 tussles the story continues....

The pain was unbearable as Zander tried to prop himself up. The furs he lay on were stiff and thick with his own dried blood. He coughed involuntarily and grimaced as bile rose into his mouth. He turned to the side and spat out the bloody phlegm. 

 

Zander coughed again, it was becoming harder to breathe. The air appeared to be thickening, the taste of magnesium laying thick on the Sorcerer's tongue.  Despite the constant pain he offered a faint smile, 'about time,' he mumbled to himself.

 

The air within the tent shimmered beteeen the colours of the spectrum as a form began to materialise. Slowly the shadow took shape, a blue impish thing with big, bug eyed, yellow globes and a wicked smile bearing row upon row of razor white teeth. As it took material form it began to shift merrily around the limited space. 

 

'About time,' growled Zander again, now loud enough for the imp to hear. 

 

The diminutive daemon bowed, 'My apologies Master. The lines you must uncover from the great intrigue become more complex with each passing death.  It's not as if...,'

 

The Sorcerer waved the excuse away, 'Grazalock, enough,' he growled again. 'Our great journey has been made that much harder.'

 

The daemon studied the Sorcerer carefully. 'So I see my Lord.'  It took in the grievous chest wounds that Zander had taken. 'You need to rest Zander Khanath.'

 

'My haste has cost me dear,' reflected the injured Sorcerer. 'A certain brashness overcame me against that Khornate ragaband and I allowed that Bullgor to smite me down.'  He flinched as he remembered the decisive blow cleaving into his chest, splitting his light blue armour asunder and burying itself in his rib cage.  

 

'You are destined for more,' replied Grazalock. 

 

'It appears so,' mused Zander. Still surprised that he had actually survived that wound. 

 

'But heed my warning well warlock. Curb your brashness now. Your foolish stalking of the Orruk brute named Morgrim hurt our venture.'

 

'Silence Imp, you are mine to command, another retort like that and I will send you back to the 7th dimension of Jar'ig for 100000 moonstone cycles.'

 

The daemon bowed once more. 

 

'That Mega Boss intrigued me some what. A khornate band runs away from little but to see the fear in their eyes as they came barrelling through our lines was something to behold.'

 

'Drynax Doommarked was right to fear that Orruk,' replied the Blue Horror. 

 

'Blasphemy. It was his shaman that laid me low. A mighty duel of power that I lost due to my weakened state.'

 

No, thought Grazalock to himself. Tzeentch laid your powers low as you had moved away from the path, away from the light of the great intrigue.'

 

'Lord, I beseech you to rest. Let me call upon Enass and his Vulcharchs to find us the right path through these Hinterlands.'

 

Zander turned onto his side and again spat out some bloodied phlegm. 'Away, with you imp. Serve me well or Jar'ig awaits.'

 

Grazalock sprung out of the tent using all 4 arms and his tail to speed himself unnaturally forwards. He knew that The Watchers errand with this one could be over all too soon as their fortunes no longer rose with the unswerving certainty of the sun. The Blue Horror could no longer follow the story of this mortal's great intrigue. The passages had become blurred, the outcomes hazy. 

 

Zander lay on his furs, shivering in pain, but consumed by arrogance and pride. He was no longer thinking of a two headed dragon. He would not be bested on the field again by a wizard. One day Zogak would fall to his greater knowledge of the mystical arts and sometime soon the Bullgore pet that Drynax Doommarked had named Takhoar would be little more than a pelt that Xander would wear as a cloak around his neck.

Hope someone is enjoying this story ?

[Nathan Hammerhand]

 

Battle reports / quick overview 

 

Game 1 - Assassinate vs David Silva's Khorne. 

This was a game between 2 total combat armies. No magic, shooting or ranged threat at all from either warband. The scenario put David's skullgrinder as the pray, and David actually went on the offence, as he thought running away for 5 turns wouldn't please the blood god. As a result, Megaboss Muzgash and Balcmeg Beast-tamer did the business, killing the Skullgrinder in turn 3. 

 

 

Game 2 vs Simon (@morglum)

Mission breakthrough. 

 

This mission was going to be almost impossible for Simons warband as he gave his Megaboss Morgrim a fluffy command ability as opposed to rampaging destroyer. 

With the benefit of rampaging destroyer and the raw speed of the gore grunta, it looked straight forward to break through. I did take care to ensure Muzgash was the unit that broke through as I desperately wanted +1 move for the campaign. 

It was a really fun game against Simons fun and relatable heroes !

 

My fluff:

 

"Ere boss, where did you get to in that last scrap" accused Balcmeg. He felt he had been far more killy than his boss in the last 2 scraps, and began to wonder if he could take on the role of Boss. 

 

"What did you say you scrawny git!" replied Muzgash angrily. 

 

"I said where'd you get to! Aye! I'm out there killing grots and squigs, and I even finished dat tricksy shaman Zogak, and all I saw you doing was running from dat big red boss. Rumour has it he's arder than you, and got a serious anger problem!! Bet he wouldn't be running from a scrap!!"

 

Muzgash grabbed Balcmeg by the neck, pulling him off his mount and into the dirt. "You listen ere and you listen good. I don't run from no one. Whatever you saw, must have been that Shamans ju ju magic or summit. Alright, now you get back in line, before I cut you open and feed you to your grunta. How'd you like that aye!" 

 

Muzgash stormed off, cursing all Shaman's and above all, cursing Morgrim. Morgrim the pretend Megaboss might cause Muzgash problems in his attempt to recruit more Boyz. He couldn't have that, not while his destiny called. That Morgrim would have to be dealt with...

 

Update on my warband:

 

Megaboss Muzgash 

64xp.

-2 rend gained on choppa

+ 1 move gained 

+ 1 wound gained

 

Balcmeg Beasttamer (gore grunta)

78xp. 

+1 wound gained 

+ 1 to hit on all weapons gained, but grunta suffered -1to hit minor injury

 

Ufthak the untried (ardboy)

14xp. 

No changes yet 

 

Snaga Shieldbearer (ardboy)

10xp. 

-1 move minor injury

 

Warband = 166 gold with 42 gold in the chest. 2 games played. 

 

[Bowlzee]

My fluff for the next week.

 

Vukos was right, this indeed was the biggest Orruk Drynax had ever seen too. It would make a worthy trophy and offering to Archaon. It was time to prove this warband had the mettle to achieve Drynax’s ambitions.

The giant Orruk was stood in the ruins of an old Graveyard, with a smattering of much smaller greenskins fussing over it. It didn’t appear to be doing much of anything. There were two entrances to the Graveyard, but Drynax didn’t doubt that an Orruk that size could make it’s own exit if required. Still, he needed to cut off the most obvious exit.

He signalled for Morbar to take the rest of the men and flank the big beast at the other entrance, to prevent it’s escape and push it towards himself and Takhoar.

With a roar, Takhoar rushed through the gate, Drynax close behind. A beast of this size could not be taken on head to head, Drynax would use Takhoar to take the brunt of any charge and attack the Orruk in its flanks. 

In the distance Morbar could be seen running into the cemetery with the Bloodreavers, a few of the smaller greenskins could be seen moving to intercept. The large Orruk had suddenly sprung to life, it moved with sudden urgency towards Takhoar, perhaps with the promise of a worthy foe had woken. 

The small greenskins surrounding it were much quicker, Drynax could see he would have to deal with these quickly before the Orruk could reach them. With a heavy swing of the Brazen Anvil, Drynax threw himself at the onrushing greenskins. Feelling bones crunch, small green bodies were sent flying in all directions. But still they persisted, threatening to swamp him and Takhoar.

Drnax looked to Takhoar for support, struggling to get the small greenskins out from under his feet and roaring in frustration, Takhoar was too distracted to see the Orruk charge. Knocked from his feet, Drynax saw the Bullgor go down to a torrent of attacks. His carefully laid plans were going awry, he suddenly felt very vulnerable. You’ve lost!

With a sudden flash of light and a searing pain, Drynax felt a filthy, treacherous bolt of magic hit him square in the back. He cursed, only a cowardly wizard would use such techniques. There was no honour, or glory in attacking an enemy from distance, and with his back turned. Hate coursed through his body and drove him back to his feet. 

Drynax pushed down the pain, and quickly assessed the situation. Takhoar was on his back in a pool of Blood, the Orruk was bellowing in triumph. Several small Greenskins were surrounding him and there was still that wretched magic user out there, retreat was the only course of action he could take. 

Drynax made a run towards the nearest ruins. You’re too late! Another flash of light hit him in the back again, consciousness slipping away before he hit the floor.

 

Wake, you fool! Pain wracked his body, Drynax welcomed it. It meant he was still alive. He slowly opened his left eye, swelling around his right preventing him from opening them both and ideally scratched the birth mark that gave his name, it was unusually warm.

“Hrmmmph. He still lives.” Morbar sounded disappointed as he stood and moved across the campfire. Drynax was surprised Morbar hadn’t killed him while he was unconscious. The reason was soon apparent. Takhoar had survived the battle and was sat watching over him, it grunted and moved off apparently content Drynax was still alive.

He surveyed the camp, everyone appeared to be nursing wounds. They had failed their first test. You’re all too weak. But they were still alive, they still had a measure of strength, they could still triumph.

Dynax pulled himself to his feet, stifling a cry in pain, he could not show any signs of weakness or he would lose what little grip he had on the warband. The Blood Pools, you will find help there. “Get yourselves up! We head to the Blood pools of E’ghath, and regain our strength.”

He guessed they were a full days march away from the Pools, but if they marched quick enough they could be there before darkness fell. The Pools were a dangerous place, they attracted Khorne followers from all around but Drynax was counting on it, he needed more bodies. 

 

Hezroth called out a warning, “Warband ahead!” 

Drynax cursed, he was too weak to take on anyone in his current state. He pushed through to the edge of the woodland and spied out across the plain.

“Magic…” His words dripped with venom. You cannot win this battle. He could taste it, Tzeentchian trickery was thick in the air. 

“We must push through them and get to the Blood Pools. We shall smash them in the left flank and punch a hole through their lines.” 

They could not tarry, they would be spotted at any moment and surprise was their greatest strength right now. The warband pushed on, Takhoar taking the lead using his massive bulk to bound across the plain.

Drynax, deliberately lagged slightly to put a few bodies between himself and enemy. It won’t be enough. He shook the thought from his head, the warband was at full pace now, Takhoar had almost reached a pair of flickering Blue Horrors.

Drynax spotted the Wizard, mounted on a birdlike creature, moving to intercept his Warband. Zander Khanath. The name forced its way into his mind, he spat in disgust. “Get out of my head you cretin!” Rage filled Drynax granting him a portion of Khorne’s power, he would claim Zander’s skull for the Blood God.

A flash of Blue light pulsed Zander’s hand and hit Drynax in the shoulder, he was spun around and sent falling backwards, darkness enveloped him. Failure follows you Drynax….