To the Tap house!

 Game one down and it was nuts as expected. 


Here's the list I took. The plan was to take hunters to jam up the inevitable frostfangs and sit in the terrain with some boomers to supplement the warlock shooting. Siege Breakers to just wander up and sit there. Nomagarok had sent his apprentices to the opening skirmishes to test the enemy's strength and blood his acolytes in battle. 

  • Troop Red Goblin Scouts
  • 2 Boomer Hordes
  • Warriors with 2 handed weapons
  • 2 Hunter Hordes
  • Berzerker Brave Regiment
  • 3 Ogre Warlocks with DL, one with conj staff, one with Amulet of fireheart, one insp Talisman
  • A army standard with the Lute
  • Kuzlo and Mad fall

The Varangur eschewed the use of a mage in favour of hordes of northmen both mounted and on foot. Units of Cavalry marshalled by a Lord astride a mighty frostfang deployed on either flanks. The unruly infantry accompanied by their hunting foxes held the middle ground and advanced.  

The ogres deployed to the East of the tap house and spread a line alternating frothing berzerkers and fur clad trappers looking to halt the inevitable cavalry charges. Having lugged the ship's cannon to the fight, Blackhart's set up on the flank supported by the wolf outriders and nervously kept an eye on Kuzlo and his ravenous wizards. 



Opening exchanges of magical missiles and charges resulted in a unit of snow foxes evaporating into the mist. The berzerkers keen to show their metal threw themselves at their human counterparts but were swiftly cut down, dealing little damage in return. The looming, loping bounds of the fallen crashed into the hunters in an attempt to break the line and provide a target for the flanking cavalry but were repelled.


Sensing they were becoming surrounded, the boomers slung their cannon over their shoulders and bellowing encouragement to their warrior comrades the trio of units crashed into the human clansmen in front of them. The unengaged hunters spied a route to some vulnerable foxes and ripped them asunder. The warlocks being close to the nexus of power on the battlefield drew deeply causing grievous wounds to the fallen and allowed this energy to fill the hunters they were fighting with renewed vigour. 



The ogres held the centre ground and turned to face the inevitable onslaught. The combined cavalry of the right flank again charged the hunters but the deft traps laid by the the ogres evaded the majority of the damage but did result in them retreating to recover their wits. The Frostfang lord on the left thundered off the hill but failed to rout the warriors presented to him and in return was despatched. The boomers fired a deafening salvo over the heads of this engagement to shock the unit on the hill until submission, their mounts shying from the cacophony. 



Despite the sheer amount of magic in such a small location, the channelling of power was not supporting the Varangur, Fate's fickle hand dealing them no assistance at all. Little was left but for the remaining cavalry units to drag as many of their massive foe to hell with them. In the centre the cavalry eventually got the better of the furtive hunters but were swiftly cut down in short order by their comrades. Meanwhile sensing blood, Kuzlo urged Madfall into the unit on the left; his mount gulping down hunks of horseflesh as the last of the warriors was felled. 

Little remained as the daylight faded and the ogres strode meaningfully back toward the tap house for a celebratory drink. 


The first of the Ogres burst through the tap house door, brawling and joking amongst themselves, buoyed by the fury of battle. Jock had already settled into a corner of the establishment and was drawing long tokes on a hooked clay pipe. He eyed their enthusiasm with a wistful air, turning to Nomagorak on the bench next to him he let a grin pass over his lips.

"Looks like your lads have come of age! They've proved they don't need the ancients like us to win a fight. I reckon we'll be seeing more of them on the field and once of the rest of the lads turn up with the 'eavy gear we'll start thinkin' about how we go after the next lot that come near. When are you going to explain what all this is really about though shipmate? I've taken you on good faith that there'll be summit worthwhile at the end of this, you better be true to ya word"
"Well, I guess it's high time I told you what I know, I'm still not entirely sure what's going on but I have a hunch. Last full moon I had been attending the usual get together with my apprentices, a class on the advantages of  speckled versus dappled lungblossom. The night had begun as always with a casual gathering and discourse was cordial. As the time approached the hubbub reduced and an unfamiliar figure took to the lectern. A heavy hood hung across his face, shading any view, bar a long silver beard which wagged gently as he pondered. Eventually the room drew to a close silence, as if begging him to explain himself. With a curt nod he began..."


"I apologise for interrupting your coven but on an occasion such as tonight, it cannot be excused. I shall not waylay you longer than is required, but what I have to impart will I am sure be of great interest and intrigue to you all. You may not know of the body I represent, but I have been despatched to speak to you and all your kind by our benefactor, The College. They have entrusted me to ensure that all those who practice the arts are aware of the potential for great reward. It is not right that I reveal the true nature of this venture as the path to success is, as always, an onerous one. Begin your quest at the approaches to the Halpi Range in the North; there you will find your destiny."


With that the speaker exited the stage, leaving the abhuman throng to its thoughts

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