The masquerade of murder returns! A new game of Vampires Amongst Us has begun. Unmask the killers, trust no one, and try to survive the night. Find out more and sign up now!
Now I can go back to working on the new battle report, the playing of which (etc) got in the way of making this video. I even did a 'Behind the Scenes' (Modelling and Painting) video in between to keep the output going!
Like I have said before, despite not being able to get my head around it myself, it will be years before the videos catch up to the campaign's present day!
Please, once again, forgive the out of sequence nature of my posts. But here is the next (brand new) story from the 'live end' of my campaign, set several years after the latest video! (Note: In the preview the pics are cropped - I am hoping they won't be in the actual post!)
Prequel to the Assault on Miragliano
A Cornucopia of Corpses
They had already approached the city walls as close as they dared and had no intention of doing so again. Nofri convinced the other two that there was no real need, for their orders were to scout the sodden land around the city, and did not specify any need to draw particularly close to the walls. Indeed, as he mulled the matter over, he was able to justify their caution further. For example, if they were to approach the walls too closely, then that would likely result in their demise, ensuring they never returned to report what they had found, which he considered to be the most important element of their orders. And, added Benedetto with a wry smile, their animated corpses would only swell the enemy’s ranks, thus greatly annoying their captain.
They were but one of several parties of Portomaggioran handgunners sent out from the alliance army by the Captain-General Lord Alessio to ascertain what exactly might be the best approach to the city. As foul flood waters had spilled out from the Blighted Marshes to surround the city, just drawing close was not going to be easy for the army, never mind the act of assault. Miragliano was moated - a moat which had swelled as the water level rose, to become, on the face of it, three times as wide. Of course, it ran deep only along its original course, while the newly extended reaches were much shallower. Nevertheless, it now presented a much greater challenge for the army - not just because of the difficulty of moving through the sinking muds and tangled weeds, but because of the horrors that dwelt (or should that be un-dwelt?) within.
The city had been ruled by vampires for several years, and their necromantic dominion had turned it and the land around into a kind of hell. The three soldiers had quickly learned this upon their initial, more direct approach, when they had witnessed first a bubbling in the putrid moat waters, and then the emergence of a monstrous, plated creature, something akin to a crab or a scorpion, but as big as a boat.
It lolled heavily in the waters, splashing and scraping in equal measure, while its elongated, barbed mouth-parts chittered and spurted gobbets of noisome fluid. Red in colour, it undoubtedly hailed from the corrupted waters of the Blighted Marshes, tainted to grow unnaturally large and foully twisted. A nightmare made real, so that just the sight and smell of it sapped strength from the soldier’s legs, to leave them staggering in unsteady fear.
“Not this way then!” Benedetto had declared loudly, as the three of them turned away to move as swiftly as their weakened limbs would allow over the soft ground.
Glancing back, they saw the beast had begun to lift itself out of the deeper waters, as another of its kind surfaced behind.
Once they had put some distance between them and the beasts, sufficient that they could no longer be seen, and had satisfied themselves that the monsters were making no attempt to pursue them, they all agreed that this particular stretch of the city walls could not be considered a suitable approach for the army. The beasts were massive enough that even while submerged and unseen, they could surely tip a raft, even a large one. And if they instead chose to rise up and attack, then they would surely make short work of all the unlucky souls it carried. Zanobi had voiced a concern that the creatures might move anywhere in the moat, and so should be considered to present a threat across its full circumference, but both his companions argued that they could make no such presumption. Neither beast had chased them, which could indicate they were of a somewhat sedentary nature. And even if that were not the case, then what more could they do than report where the beasts were spotted. Surely a confirmed sighting in a particular place counted for something, Nofri had suggested, and only a fool would subsequently choose said place for the armies crossing?
They picked their way forwards, adopting an arcing route that would keep them out of sight of the moat and the walls.
“A moat is a moat, and a wall is a wall, from wherever you stand,” said Nofri, feeling a need to further justify their continued caution. “Whatever spot we attack from, there will be the moat and the wall. Our task is surely to find a sound route to the moat’s edge, not to assess the moat itself.”
“They’d have given us a boat if they wanted us to test the waters,” said Benedetto, to bolster his friend’s argument.
“True enough,” agreed Zanobi, happily.
The three of them carried matchlock handguns, with all the necessary accoutrements, although only Zanobi and Nofri had a bandoleer, each of the several wooden boxes containing the necessary measure of powder for a single shot.
Benedetto preferred to pour directly from his powder horn into the muzzle, judging for himself the necessary amount, and believed he had the knack of getting it just right. Nofri was now glad of Benedetto’s decision, for even without a breastplate, the wooden boxes’ clattering was worryingly loud, especially when creeping around such a dangerous place as this. With a breastplate, the clickety-clack of the boxes against the steel would have seemed deafening.
It was that clattering, however loud, and the need to keep a match lit at all times, that meant hand-gunners on the move were never likely to gain surprise. Nofri had consoled himself with the thought that many of the undead may well be deaf, and a lit match was not such an advertisement in daylight as it was in the dark, but he had not fully defeated his fears concerning the matter.
The occasional grey rock protruded from the ground, both large and small, although the pot-marked nature of the stone in these northern parts made them appear as if they too had begun to rot and fester. Other than the rocks, which were occasionally sharp and so not the most reliable stepping-stones, the ground was boggy at best and treacherously mud-sucking at worst. There was still some life in the land, limp greenery in the form of weeds and marsh plants, but despite the summer season every tree was leafless. Perhaps the miasma fermented from the foul marsh waters had poisoned them? It had certainly begun to work its harm on the army, forcing it to remove to a considerable distance from the city for the sake of its health, which in turn necessitated the discovery of a suitable route by which to approach the city whilst maintaining a good, fighting order.
Nofri took the lead, by a few steps, as he often did, his piece at the ready, match affixed. At regular intervals he would shift the hempen cord, so that the end did not burn down to the serpentine’s metal jaws, either to extinguish itself or burn through and thus cause the match to fall out. Like the others, he knew that while carrying his piece in such a way meant he could heft and shoot almost immediately should it prove necessary, needing only to open the pan as he did so, it did mean there was the constant risk of a spark landing on the pan, where, despite the closed lid, all it would take was a few stray powder-corns to cause a premature firing. So, he ported his piece at an angle, taking care never to allow the muzzle to point at his comrades.
For some time, Nofri’s only utterances were in the form of, “Have a care,” or “Watch your step here.” As they settled into a steady pace, however, and the fear of monstrous pursuit subsided, he became more conversational.
“I profess no particular knowledge of the foul art of necromancy,” he began, “Nor have I seen the undead particularly close, what with them retreating so promptly at Norochia and with us doing nought but waste powder firing volleys up at wall-tops at Ebino, but I do find myself wondering what exactly drives them.”
“Evil, plain and simple,” offered Benedetto.
“Aye,” agreed Nofri. “I understand it is evil that conjures them into existence, through foul and despicable magics, but I’m asking what makes them do this and not that, attack one and not another? What directs them to do particular things?”
“The will of vampires or necromancers,” said Benedetto, with a tone implying the answer was obvious. “Otherwise, they would come on in battle like a mob, or like a herd of enraged kine, with no order nor cohesion.”
“I always thought they might have some memories of drill,” suggested Zanobi. “Despite having died since they learned it – enough at least to maintain their dressings. I don’t think I could ever rid myself of the memory of such an aching misery as early morning drill.”
Nofri frowned. “There’s more to it than that though. They know to attack the enemy and not each other; and they can stand regardless of provocation and opportunity until the moment is right for a charge.”
“Again … it’s evil magic that both raises them and drives them forth, directing them,” said Benedetto.
“So, without a vampire to play them like marionettes, they would flail and founder?” asked Nofri.
“Who’s to say they are played like marionettes? They might have just enough will left in them, howsoever wracked and tortured it is by what they’ve become, to imbue them with a burning hatred of the living – those who still possess what they have lost. Puppets possess no such will. Think of a necromancer as more like a hunter with a pack of hounds. He raises them vicious but loyal, makes them fit for the hunt, then chooses when and where to let them off the leash. The hounds have a hungry lust for the kill, but they obey their master’s commands. Out alone, the hounds are still dangerous, just less particular about who they attack.”
“Do necromancers tie them up like hounds?” asked Zanobi.
“What?” said Benedetto, obviously confused by the strange question.
“Look, see,” said Zanobi, pointing ahead. “Like that one!”
The three halted, and Nofri and Benedetto followed Zanobi’s gaze.
Up ahead stood a zombie, clothed in filthy skirts, it’s face almost entirely hidden by long, greasy, matted hair. Its hands were shackled in iron and chained to a sturdy looking post set into the ground by its side.
“That’s odd,” said Nofri. “Why chain it up like so?”
“I haven’t a clue,” said Benedetto. “She can’t act as a guard, as anyone can walk around her. She can’t be a look out for she ain’t going to cry for help. And she surely hasn’t been raised to swell the ranks of the defenders, for if so, why is she here?”
“Do you think she was chained before or after she died?” asked Nofri.
“And was it before or after she became undead?” asked Zanobi.
Nofri’s brow furrowed. “Eh?”
“That’s not the mystery here,” said Benedetto. “Think on it. The undead are raised to serve necromancers and vampires, yes?”
“Aye,” the others both agreed.
“So why did they trouble to raise her then leave her chained?”
Nofri’s face drained of colour. “Is she a vampire?” he asked, gulping. “For they have their own wills, not beholden to those who sire them?”
“That’s debatable,” said Benedetto, hinting at a whole new argument.
“Well if not a vampire, then is she alive?” asked Zanobi. He took a step forward and asked, “Shall I go see?”
“No, Zanobi, there’s no need. Stay put,” ordered Benedetto. “We can just ask.”
He cleared his throat, then shouted: “You there? Are you hurt?”
The zombie’s head snapped up, the ragged and rotten mess that was its lower jaw made visible as its hair fell away, and it issued a disgusting, gurgling groan.
“It’s a zombie,’ declared Benedetto. “Why is it here, though?”
“Perhaps whoever magicked it up couldn’t be bothered to go to the trouble of freeing it?” suggested Nofri.
“Then why go the trouble of raising it in the first place?” asked Benedetto. “Necromantic magic has to extract a price, surely? I can’t imagine one goes about it lightly.”
Zanobi sniffed, then pointed at the zombie, shaking his finger. “Then maybe it raised itself, only then to discover the somewhat inconvenient fact that it is chained?”
“It can’t raise itself,” said Benedetto.
“Can’t it?” argued Nofri. “This place has been corrupted long enough, surely? Maybe the magical taint of necromancy has rooted and grown to curse the whole land?”
Benedetto pondered this, while the others stared with sick fascination at the zombie. He then said,
“More likely whoever raised her decided they had plenty enough defenders and she was surplus to requirements, not worth the effort of freeing. But we can’t be sure and you could be right. Whatever the truth, we must tell the captain that here in the marsh, the undead require no necromancers to sustain them; nor to command them, nor perhaps even to conjure them up in the first place. In a realm as old as Miragliano, that could mean one hell of a lot of walking corpses. Worst of all, it could be that Miragliano is so replete with defenders that they have no need of more!”
“Should we shoot it?” asked Zanobi.
“No,” said Benedetto. “It’d be a waste of powder. She’s not going anywhere. And I don’t want the shot to alert every foul creature around to our presence.”
“Best be away, then!” suggested Nofri.
They now began to veer away from the city, intending to navigate an arc which would cover a rockier stretch of ground to the south-west and bring them back to the army’s current camp. To reach the rocks, they would pass some stone ruins, once a farmstead, which they had been ordered to scout due to a report of activity there in the night. The three of them now moved even more carefully, picking their way slowly and carefully around the boggy pools and stopping frequently to look around, hoping to espy any enemies long before they drew close.
Their caution proved justified, for as soon as the ruins came into view, they could see movement –several long polearms and spears, even a ragged banner. The idea that it could be some of their own comrades did not even enter their minds, for they could see immediately that the banner took the form of a human hide, daubed crudely with blood.
“Have a care!” whispered Nofri, needlessly, as the three of them halted. “There are more here, and these aren’t chained.”
“I don’t see anyone to command them,” said Benedetto, squinting against the grey-glare of the sky. “I was right. This place is swarming with zombies, and not because some vampire is leading them to war, but because the land is thoroughly cursed.”
Each of them adjusted their match and blew on their coals, in readiness, while straining their eyes to take in the details. Beside the bearer of the grisly standard stood an armoured figure, in mail and plates of some strange and archaic design. Such might be expected on the animated bones of long dead warriors, but not on the still rotting carcasses of zombies. Nofri wondered if the bog waters had preserved the corpse’s flesh over the centuries.
The closest zombie seemed to be looking at them with malicious intent, but what else would such a creature feel? It clutched a long staff upon which two blades had been clumsily tied, as if to make kitchen tools and a staff into a polearm. Perhaps some ancient dweller of these parts had been forced in desperate circumstances to fabricate the makeshift weapon when faced with wicked foes, only now to become that which he had once fought?
No wonder he looks so annoyed, thought Nofri.
The clutch of zombies to the left also carried odd-looking weapons, of equally long proportions. Nofri suspected they had all died together in the same incident, during which encounter they had presumed, for whatever reason, that they would be best armed with very long weapons. Perhaps they had been trying to keep zombies at bay? Or even attempting to round them up? Whatever they had intended, they had presumably failed, and died clutching their unusual weapons. Now, in undeath, they had found those weapons quite literally ‘to hand’.
“Right,” Benedetto said. “We’ve seen the ruins. We know what’s here. There’s no need to get any closer. I say we skirt around the rocks rather than head straight for them. I don’t fancy finding out if those blades have kept their edge!”
The other two said nothing, instead just loping off after him as he altered course. They moved less cautiously now, splashing through the muddy waters, stumbling occasionally. They removed their matches from the serpentines to clutch in their left hands, so as not to cause an accidental firing. Even just the noise such a shot would make worried them, never mind the damage they might do to each other, for like Benedetto had said, they did not want to advertise their presence to all within a mile. They could see the southern spur of the rocks they had intended to pass through and made for that.
Suddenly Benedetto, who had taken the lead momentarily, halted, raised his hand and shouted: “No!”
Nofri and Zanobi stopped also.
“Not this way either,” Benedetto added. “This place is swarming with the devils.”
Up ahead was a pond, upon the far side of which were more zombies. A score or more, reckoned Nofri.
“Too many,” said Zanobi, breathlessly. “There’s too many!”
Nofri glanced at his friend. “Fear not, Zanobi. They’re not known for speed, and they’re on the wrong side of that pond.”
“Aye, but they’re already coming around,” said Benedetto, affixing his match once more.
The zombies were dividing, some to go one way …
… the rest to go the other.
Nofri could see that the enemy’s passage was somewhat obstructed by thorny, scrub-bushes, and that they would have to cross a rocky stream before they reached this spot. Emboldened, and regardless of the fact his two companions had already turned to flee, he stood a while, hoping to see who or what, if anyone, commanded this particular mob.
His attention was drawn immediately to a tall figure in the centre, who seemed yet to have decided which way to go.
The heavily armoured, cloaked warrior carried a huge iron mace and what appeared to be a broken sword. His face was hidden behind his horned-helmet’s steel vizor, so that Nofri had little to go on regarding the true nature of the warrior. It could be a zombie, a vampire or even a living man for all he knew. The manner in which it stood, simply waving its mace about its head, might suggest the dim wits of a zombie, but it could well be the pose of a vampire urging his foul servants on to do the dirty work of fighting for him. Perhaps he knew how worthless his armour would prove against handgun bullets at close range?
“Come on, Nofri!” shouted the others, almost in unison.
The barked command dislodged Nofri from his ill-timed reverie, and he too turned and ran.
When Captain-General Lord Alessio had received all his scouts’ reports concerning the approaches to the city, it was obvious that no route was safe, but that one, at least, was potentially better than the rest. The taint of necromantic magic had permeated far beyond the city itself, so that (in places) the marsh and moat veritably teemed with animated corpses. Lord Alessio simply chose a way through which avoided what seemed to be the worst of those accursed spots. It wasn’t where the flooded moat was narrowest, nor where the outlying ground was least boggy, but there were gates in the walls there, which was the only absolute necessity.
His plan was simple: his army would drag the rafts, as quickly as they could, to the moat’s edge, then launch and ride them to the walls. Most rafts would carry ladder armed companies, but the two heaviest had siege towers and the next heaviest carried a ram. Lord Alessio was hoping that sheer weight of numbers would allow his army to overwhelm the enemy, which in truth had been part of his strategic planning from the very start of the campaign against the undead.
He deployed most of his missile troops on the left, including his own Portomaggioran handgunners and crossbowmen (the latter commanded by Captain Lupo ‘The Wolf’ Lorenzo), as well as the Reman crossbow regiments, both men and dwarfs. The VMC’s handgunner detachments, he allowed to accompany their pike regiment on the far right, along with their independent handgunner regiment. He had lost all but one cannon on the march hither, and had been denied artillery reinforcement by the VMC commander’s strange decision to send only foot troops to support him. He placed this last piece on the far left, to play against the gate as best it could and, should it prove necessary, to fire upon anything monstrous emerging from the foul waters.
His intention was that such a weight of shot and bolt on the left would disrupt or destroy any enemy attempting to flank his assaulting troops either in the moat or the marsh. Surely very little could withstand the combined firepower of over sixty handguns and crossbows plus a heavy artillery piece?
The dwarf warriors, captained by the Kislevite commander of the Reman brigade, Soldatovya, were (like every melee regiment) equipped with a raft, and if necessary would be available to engage an enemy on the water …
… while the skirmishing bravi were ordered to protect the gun from anything approaching from the flank or rear. The VMC apprentice wizard Serafina added a magical element to that flank, and the Reman Morrite priest Bernhardt (also with the dwarven warriors) should bolster the soldiers’ resolve in the face of the undead foe.
On the right, where his main fighting regiments were placed with the bigger rafts and the siege tower rafts, there was the re-sanctified carroccio. This, the general hoped, would lift the soldiers’ spirits, by channelling the mystical blessings of Morr, while the rather more mundane VMC ogres, led by the infamous Ogbut, were to smash through the gate with their raft-mounted ram.
Alessio’s largest Portomaggioran regiment, the spears, took position in the very centre of the line.
Such was their weight of numbers that he was happy to have them commanded only by their own champion. They would flank the ram, so that if anything were to attack from the waters, they might prevent it interfering with it. Then, of course, should the ram prove capable of smashing through the gates, they would join the ogres to swarm through immediately, crossing from their raft.
General Lord Alessio himself was with his Sea Wolf guard regiment, atop the siege tower from where he could scrutinise the entire line. Beside him strode the colossus, taller even than the tower top, and entirely capable (the wizard Lord Hakim had reassured him) of fording the moat waters.
To the general’s right, the crew of the carroccio had been ordered to get as close as was safe to the water’s edge, so that the holy aura of the relics contained within its chest would remain near enough to the fighting men that they felt its inspiring vigour.
The enemy had distributed its strength across the full length of the walls facing the assaulting alliance army.
Ghouls and zombies swarmed on most of the walls, in some cases so numerous that they could not all fit upon the parapet, while the flanking walls contained even more disturbing defenders, nightmarishly ethereal in form. The vampire priest of Nagash, Biagino, was hidden away inside one of the towers, as were his two necromantic lieutenants. He presumably saw no need to subject himself to the attentions of enemy shooting, although unlike at Ebino, he had not commanded his regimented warriors to remain hidden behind the walls. Perhaps the defeat he suffered there meant he now thought the tactic worthless. If it failed to help him previously, why employ it again? Or perhaps he believed the enemy might become dismayed by the numbers on the walls? Being an alliance force suggested the possibility that particular parts might refuse to fight as hard as the rest.
Fell bats awaited behind the far-right wall, beneath the Cairn Wraiths atop the parapet, chittering and flapping their wings in anticipation. The wraiths, in contrast, moved silently,
On the far-left wall, ghostly manifestations swirled eerily about each other …
… presenting the living soldiers across the water with an uncanny glimpse of just how tortured an afterlife could await those unlucky souls who fell under the dominion of vampires.
An uncanny light shone about them as they danced and wove around each other vigorously, but it was a brightness of such strange origins that it cast no reflection in the waters below.
…
Game Note: This is the field in terms of game play. As per our usual siege/assault rules, the outcome is determined at the end of turn 9 (if the fighting is still ongoing), based on the number of sections each side controls.
Sections 1, 2, 3, 5 and 6 consist of both a tower and the adjacent wall. Section 4 is the gate tower itself. Sections 7, 8 and 9 consist of three equally large portions of the city’s interior.
The Assault on Miragliano Part Two (The Assault Begins)
As swirling spirits danced mystical around the crenelations, as if to lure the enemy towards them …
… elsewhere along the walls, the defenders stood peering and leering over the parapet, their own lurching motions much clumsier. The zombies were almost silent, apart from their effortful gurgling as their ragged throats dragged air to and fro from their rotting lights.
The ghouls were louder, issuing forth curses and other corrupt words as they thought impatiently of the mountain of flesh they would feast upon when the battle was done.
Biagino sensed the failure of one of his lieutenants to employ necromantic magic, and so before the other could wastefully sap the winds of magic further, he cast Invocation of Nehek to summon up more than a score of zombies, so bolstering the regiments defending the walls on either side of his tower.
Satisfied, and having willed not one of his servants to take so much as a step, he watched as the enemy began to draw closer. Not all moved, certainly not those with bows or guns, but the dwarfs pushed their raft closer, as did the large regiments propelling the ram and siege tower rafts.
Several other large regiments stood their ground, for want of opportunity to advance, what with so many others in the way. The grey-clad Marienburger pikemen of the VMC brigade simply watched from behind.
Of the umpteen conjurations attempted by the alliance army’s magic users, only Wizard Lord Hakim’s spell, Shem’s Burning Gaze, was successful in harming the foe, causing a good quarter of the spirit host to dissipate from this realm whence they came. The handgunners were as yet unable to find a target, and of the crossbowmen, only Lupo and his Portomaggiorans found their mark, felling a handful of the zombies (unaware that the loss was but a fraction of what had been raised only moments before).
When the Remans behind, shooting over the Portomaggioran’s heads, failed to add a single zombie’s demise to the tally, they began to wonder what magical blessing was guiding the bolts launched by Lupo’s men.
(Game Note: Campaign Mercenary Combat Skill: ‘Superior Markmanship’ – The unit the character is with ignores cover.)
Biagino had noticed the small yet surprising number of casualties also, and with a mental gesture, commanded the cairn-wraiths to dismount the wall and await the foe unseen, just in case the enemy’s bolts were indeed blessed with some magical power.
Once he was satisfied they had done so, he looked from the window and descried that a swarm of bats had swooped from the marshes to the rear of the enemy’s line.
They were close to the artillery piece, which pleased him, so he focused his malignantly magical will upon them to make sure that their first action would be to attack the crew.
Their arrival reminded him of the zombies who inhabited the marshland. He knew this would be exactly the right moment for them also to arrive at the enemy’s rear, before the rafts had been launched to carry the soldiers out of reach. Closing his eyes, he muttered the words of an incantation to call on them, but as the magical current flowed aimless away he sensed immediately that there were none within reach.
Game Note:
House rules for the Marsh Zombies
This zombie horde lurks in the marsh, already re-animated by the necromantic energies spilling from the city. The vampire player may pick any spot on the table on the far side of the moat and attempt a ‘Raise Dead’ spell, needing a wizard who can do the spell. The spot does not have to be within 18” of the wizard, because the zombies are already wandering the marsh somewhere, just ‘itching’ to be prompted into action. Also, the player doesn’t roll 2D6+3 but gets the whole regiment of 36. The vampire player can only try this twice, after which it is clear the horde is not nearby, and so any further ‘Raise Dead’ spells work as normal, in which case the figures are used to represent whatever is raised (if anything).
36 Zombies - M4 WS1 BS0 S3 T3 W1 I1 A1 Ld2 // Musician; Standard Bearer; All zombie rules, but also unit does NOT suffer any Marshland Dangerous Terrain effects! They’ve gotten used to the terrain.
Nevertheless, he peered through the window (of the dank tower chamber he was hiding in) to spot any sign of them.
Nothing. He cursed angrily, then dismissed his frustration and (along with one of his lieutenants) simply summoned yet more zombies to swell the rank and file of his wall defenders. He was damned if he would yield this city easily.
With little to shoot at upon the walls, and nothing yet to appear in the moat, the Reman crossbow regiments (dwarf and human) and the Lord Alessio’s handgunners, turned to face the swarming bats. More crucially, perhaps, so did the Reman ‘bravi’ swordsmen, ensuring that the bats could not reach the gun except by taking on them!
Further along the line, Ogbut’s ogres reached the moat, heaved their raft onto it and mounted it in readiness for the crossing.
Game Note:
Raft rules (second draft after player consultation)
The rafts are carried by units to the moat’s edge, which should be about 5-6” away from the allied army deployment line. Upon reaching the moat’s edge, the raft is set down ready for embarkation, and the unit auto moves onto the raft (if the player wishes). Units cannot march whilst lugging the rafts. The three heavy rafts must be accompanied by large units, who move at -1 mvmt penalty whilst dragging them to the moat’s edge (like rams in 3rd ed WFB).
Once at the moat’s edge the rafts are placed on the water (thus extending 4”, 6” or 8” into the moat, depending on the raft) and the unit moves onto the raft at the end of the turn they reached the moat.
Once on the moat, the rafts (large or small) are moved by the soldiers on board paddling and punting as best they can. The big rafts roll 2D3” initial movement, due to the delay in the unit boarding. The smallest rafts roll 3D3”. All rafts can opt to move up to D6” less (rolling another dice) if they wish to slow down or stop. Big rafts that moved in the previous turn, moves 2D6”, the small rafts 2D6+2”.
The thoroughly flooded moat area should be on average 17” across … so considering the largest raft, when placed, will already extend 8” across by being placed, it will thus have only 9” to move. The other large ones extend 6”out, so 11” to move. They thus should take 2 or 3 turns crossing the moat. If a raft arrives at a wall with any move distance to spare then the unit counts as having charged the wall – and a ladder/tower/battering ram assault immediately commences.
The rafts can turn as per the old 3rd ed WFB chariot rules, the large ones (most of them) using an arc equal to their movement distance, the smaller ones using an arc of half their move distance. Arcs are closed if they contact the wall.
On reaching the wall, the men aboard will fasten them up and they become platforms from which to launch ladder assaults. The ram, siege towers and ladders all use the old 6th ed Siege Rules.
The assault game will be 9 turns long. If the attackers take 2 turns to arrive at the water’s edge, then 2-4 turns to cross the moat, they could be attacking the defences sometime from turns 4 to 6, thus with 3 to 5 turns of combat.
Magic users and missile troops can support as best they can, from the moat’s edge, or rafts. Probably the moat’s edge for missiles. Or they just join the assault. The city defences will be in defined sections as per the usual rules.
This moat is not like Ebino’s, as this one has silted up a bit, and also flooded to cover a large area (thus it’s new width). Thus the Colossus can wade through both the marsh and the moat. It would take dangerous terrain tests only if it marched, charged, fled or pursued. (I wish the model had a detachable torso cos it would look cool wading waist deep! I know Damian, who has a spare, actually considered sawing the spare in half and painting it.)
(Luckily, I managed to edit the subsequent photo of the colossus to show it starting to wade into the murky waters.)
The magical construct known as the Colossus, guided as ever by its creator the Wizard Lord Hakim, now also began to wade, somewhat tentatively for such a massive creation, into the waters.
(Magic 12:6)
Serafina’s fireball killed but one single bat amongst the swarm, having veered to one side so that it barely singed the rest. The Morrite cleric, Bendali, who had entirely failed to notice the bats’ arrival, employed his Amulet of Coal to send his own fireball to burst into the parapet and wash flames over, killing no less than ten zombies.
His happiness was only slightly marred by the fact that the Amulet shattered in the process. Annoyed that he had not thought to do so first, he now cast Morr’s Touch upon the surviving zombies, weakening them.
The Colossus cast Shem’s Burning Gaze on the ghouls, but Biagino was quick enough to dispel it. Lord Hakim tried again where his servant had failed, and this time killed two of the enemy. The rest of the ghouls seemed not to care a jot, nor even to notice their comrades’ demise.
Lupo’s crossbowmen, despite their blessed weapons and the enemy’s magically induced weakness, now slew less of the zombies than previously, much to their confusion. The gun crew had yet to fire, having been waiting for the monsters they were told lurked in the moat. Now, however, they decided the bats were a priority, and turned their piece to fire. They were over-hasty, however, and sent the shot into the dirt!
Turns 3 onwards to follow ASAP.
Appendix
Biagino's Last Stand Army (1651 pts)
Biagino (Vampire Lord; General; Level 2 Wizard)
Book of Arkhan (Vanhel's Danse Macabre); Talisman of Preservation; Aura of Dark Majesty
Necromancer (Level 2 Wizard; Master of the Dead)
Dispel Scroll; Ruby Ring of Ruin
Necromancer (Level 1 Wizard)
Talisman of Endurance
The Assault on Miragliano Part Three (The Assault Continues)
The swarming bats in the rear of the allies’ line now swooped in an arc to attack the smaller of the two handgun companies, not the bravi before the gun.
Zanobi, Benedetto and Nofri were in the front rank as the swarm came at them, and the sudden proximity of such fearful foes made their legs weaken, their stomachs churn. Those in the company whose pieces were made ready gave fire, but to no particularly noticeable effect.
When the bats hit them, they became engulfed in a tangle of fur and leathery wings, then pierced all over by claws and teeth. All three were killed, as well as another of their comrades. Those handgunners who survived this initial onslaught failed entirely in their attempts to flee. Indeed, the swarm’s progress was barely slowed by the bloody contact, and as the last of the handgunners splashed lifeless into the soggy ground, the bats crashed into other company. It was all so quick that the second company never even fired a single shot! Barely half managed to draw their blades, the rest making do with the butt of their handguns as the swarm hit them.
Frustrated that he could see so little through the leaded-glass window of the tower chamber, Biagino burst through the door and plunged into the mass of zombies swarming upon the parapet, there to hide amongst them.
Having attempted twice to call the zombies of the swamp, without sensing their presence at all, he now knew that wherever they were, it was too far for them to be brought to the field of battle. He sensed his lieutenant’s magical conjuring and guessed it was another attempt to lure one of the leviathans inhabiting the moat. But nothing came of it, and so he too stared into the water as he wrestled with the winds of magic to make them conform to his own will. He too failed, as the enemy had several wizards, one of whom employed a counter spell to unwind and wash away the winds before they could sufficiently coalesce in the material realm.
(Game Note: First attempt to raise the Leviathon dispel scrolled; second stopped with a 6D dispel roll of 24.)
Game Note:
Rotting Leviathans (from the old ‘Luthor Harkon’ White Dwarf army)
These dwell in the expanded moat, being the preserved remains of ‘crab-like Prometheans’ which rose to the surface during the time of the corruption of Miragliano, carried in by the flood waters.
In their own magic phase, the vampire player may choose a spot in the moat, then roll a scatter die & 2D6 for the distance. (If the spot goes off-table, then the beast can appear in the vampire player’s next turn, as an ‘Ambusher’ (p.79) /‘Reinforcement’ (p.27), arriving within 6” of the point at which the line crossed the table edge, if it gets its 3+ roll.) If the spot is on the table, the player then rolls 1D6 & on a roll of 6, a Leviathan appears. Before rolling the D6, however, they can bolster this attempt by successfully casting Invocation of Nehek on 12+ or 18+ depending on if the beast is raised between 6 and 12 or between 12 and 18 inches away, measuring from the caster to the point in the moat. On a successful casting, the beast appears on a D6 roll of 4, 5 or 6. If the spell fails, the attempt to lure the beast up has hindered the rising, so the player cannot even roll the D6 for a 6 chance. They can try again next and subsequent turns, on 5,6 chance or 3+ using Invocation. (A successful dispelling will thus stop their appearance, or a failed D6 roll.)
If the player is successful, they may attempt summon the other creature in another turn, or even in the same turn if they have another wizard who can cast Invocation of Nehek. Once both leviathans have been raised, however, there are no more others nearby to raise. Note that calling one from beyond the table edge might be the better tactic, but still with a potentially indefinite delay!
Rotting Leviathan – Stats, attributes and special rules as per the old White Dwarf list.
The apprentice wizard Serafina was unnerved by all the deaths so close to her and ran back towards the high ground in the rear, struggling all along to cross the difficult ground.
(Game Note: Anything more than a normal move in the marsh meant taking a dangerous terrain test.)
As the colossus and the ram-raft drew closer to the city walls …
… the dismounted knights mounted the siege tower.
They were commanded by Lord Marcus Portelli, who had been wounded in at Ebino. Despite requiring help to climb the ladder, he nevertheless projected a fearlessness which inspired his men, and he looked the very essence of a warrior as he took his place at the front, leaning upon his huge, iron-barbed mace.
While Father Bernhardt prayed for Morr to protect the dwarf warriors, only one wizardly spell successfully pierced the mystical defences mustered by the vampire and his lieutenants. Five ghouls tumbled from the wall as a banishment took grip on them, yet still, the rest showed no sign of caring, nor even noticing.
Lupo’s crossbowmen slew five more zombies …
… but like the ghouls, the remainder just peered through the crenelations, entirely ignorant of their fellow defenders’ second demise.
Biagino noticed, however, and in a fit of anger he ordered the fell bats and the cairn-wraiths to burst from the defences onto moat, from where they could charge at the foe.
The wraiths moved ethereally through the very stones, to glide eerily and terrifyingly over the water towards the raft carrying the Reman dwarfs, Father Bernhardt and Captain Soldatovya …
… while the monstrous bats flew speedily across the full width of the moat towards the handgunners already engaged with their smaller kin.
Inside the city, the diminished host of spirits drifted towards the gate tower, while the similarly reduced company of ghouls moved to take the spot on the far-left wall the spirits had recently departed. One or two amongst them seem somewhat put out at being commanded so to move, having previously been greedily eyeing the approaching foe.
When they discovered enemies were also approaching this new wall, they satisfied themselves that they had not been denied their share of flesh-meat!
Biagino could now clearly see the approaching dwarfs and the enemies crossing further along the moat. If the deadly cairn-wraiths made short work of dispatching the dwarfs, then it was likely they could move on to one or even more the other rafts before the enemy reached the walls. So it was he attempted to conjure a curse to weaken the foe, only to fumble it when momentarily distracted. While several more spells were either foiled or simply failed, including a further attempt to lure the moat-dwelling leviathans, ever more zombies were successfully raised to swell the horde now defending two stretches of the wall.
The swarming bats quickly sapped the second body of handgunners’ will to fight, killing all who fled away as they became mired in the stinking mud. This meant the fell bats could swoop down on a clear run towards the cannon crew. Yet despite this success, the massive bulk of the enemy lay further along the moat, and so far, there had been no hindrance at all to its passage. The large regiment of Portomaggioran spearmen, who had so bravely assaulted the gate at Ebino after it had been blown to pieces by siege-master Guccio’s petard, recently reinforced with the survivors of several no longer field-worthy companies and regiments, had already boarded a large raft to commence their own crossing.
Desperate to avoid a moat-top combat with the nightmarish wraiths, Captain Soldatovya ordered his mercenary dwarfs to propel the raft as speedily as possible, even if it endangered the lives of some of those aboard.
He was praying they would pass by before the ghastly creatures could sweep around at them.
With a sinking heart, the Kislevite captain recognised their progress was just too slow. Clutching his blade tight, he turned to look at the foe, wracking his brains at how he might survive the inevitable encounter, when suddenly four of the foul spirits disappeared, as a storm of bolts came whistling through the air from Lupo’s crossbowmen. This confused him, for such mundane missiles would not normally be expected to harm ethereal beings.
Serafina had halted her flight and was the first wizard to notice the wraiths. She failed, however, in her subsequent attempt to manifest fireballs to hurl at them. That failure, however, was perceived by her master, the wizard lord Johannes Deeter, who was close to the carroccio. When he looked through the leafless trees to see what Serafina had been attempting to harm, he too saw the wraiths. Being well versed in the art of fire magic, he immediately conjured a ‘Rhuinous’ blessing upon Lupo’s crossbowmen, so that their bolts would carry just enough magic to sting the foe, despite their ghostly nature. And sting they did, enough to slay more than half.
An enchanted round-shot was also blasted at the wraiths, but it missed and instead crunched into the wall beyond, while the rest of the allies’ crossbowmen brought down merely a handful of bats and zombies. Even the gunners on the carroccio blasted their swivels at the wall, but again, with little effect. The Ogres, however, had already reached the gate, and had begun swinging the ram to crash repeatedly into the iron-bound, anciently-hard oak. They did not yet know that they were going to be there a long time, for the gate was strong.
The last two wraiths now did exactly what Soldatovya feared and tore into the exposed flank of the dwarfs on the raft.
The raft tipped precariously to one side, as Soldatovya, clad head to toe in armour, knew there was little he could now do but pray for his own soul.
The Kislevite veteran, the portly priest Bendali and each and every dwarf upon the raft would be dead or dying within moments, most taking only as long as it took for the air to run out in their lungs as they fell like stones into the stagnant but deep moat water.
The fell bats swooped gracefully to smash into the artillerist Captain Hans Weidmuller and his cannon crew.
The crew died quickly, while Hans put up a little more of a fight. Bleeding from his wounds, he turned to flee, pursued by the unthinking creatures, and died from their attentions. His demise was unwitnessed by any in the allied army.
While the swirling spirits occupied the gate tower, the bat swarm hove back into view and flew towards the rear of the dwarf crossbowmen.
Biagino concentrated wholly upon his magical efforts and summoned up nigh upon a score more zombies to further swell those on and behind the walls.
He even returned a cairn-wraith into the mortal realm. Beyond these successes, however, nothing he nor his lieutenants tried proved effective, so that still no leviathon could be hailed to attack the multitude of enemies now teeming precariously upon the moat.
As the allies all drew ever closer to the walls, some rafts moving quicker than others.
Serafina, having found an inner peace despite the terrors of the marsh, sent a streaming blast of fireballs into the wraiths, and burned away all trace of them from the waking world.
This left only the bats, large and small, outside the walls, caught up with harassing the crossbowmen at the far left of the allied line. There was nothing now to even slow the massed rank and file in their journey to the walls.
As the living wizards cast magical blessings on the large regiments, Lupo directed his crossbowmen to slay more and more of the zombies …
… while Lord Marcus drew even closer to the wall …
… and the VMC pike regiment crowded on their raft behind waiting their time to climb the siege tower’s ladders and mount the walls.
The captain-general, Lord Alessio, had already reached the far-left wall, and immediately set about assaulting the ghouls defending it.
Despite being fully armoured, he leapt from the platform-top of the siege tower to crash into the foul creatures massed on the parapet, the magical glare of his shield dazzling and paining the ghouls’ eyes. His men followed quickly and obediently, and the slaughter was great, with three of the Sea Wolves falling, but many, many more ghouls. If they had not already suffered injuries to magical attacks, the foul flesh eaters might have delayed the Portomaggioran soldiers a little longer, but they simply did not have the numbers, and Lord Alessio quickly took full possession of the wall.
Despite the moat, despite the marsh, the living were already in the city.
As the bat swarms swooped between the crossbow regiments …
… the fell bats also careened around at the rear looking for another company to attack.
Biagino cursed and cursed again as neither he nor his lieutenants could summon the leviathans, nor could they manifest any other magic to thwart the enemy. He heard the enemy’s cheers and knew they must have taken at least one wall, and despite having raised a veritable host of zombies to defend two other stretches …
… he knew full well that they could only ever buy him time, not victory.
The foe was too numerous, and the force left to him entirely insufficient to the task of holding the city. Suddenly he felt an etheric heat and strained to look down into the yard. The colossus was obviously able to see over the walls and had burned away almost all the spirits with a magical gaze, leaving but a handful hidden beneath the stone arch.
Out beyond the moat, the bats had concentrated their last assault on the dwarven crossbows …
… but found them to be a much harder challenge than the handgunners and cannon crew. Meanwhile, Lord Alessio had already led his men from the first wall through the tower and onto the next, before the dismounted knights could mount it from their own siege tower. There Alessio and his men lay furiously into the first large body of zombies, finding the work a tiring but simple act of butchery.
Lord Marcus could only watch as his master hacked and slashed through the stinking mass of rotten flesh, and the Portomaggioran army-standard moved across the wall right in front of him.
It was clear the city was lost.
Every one of Biagino’s cards had been played. The bumper crop he had expected from the corpse-filled, foetid marsh and moat, had proved entirely disappointing.
He had been chased from the very heart of Tilea all the way to Miragliano, and now he knew that if he was to (un)live any longer, he must flee yet again, right now, before the enemy could reach him.
And flee he did.
He knew not whether he would go to the marsh or the mountains, but he did not have time to ponder the matter.
The last of the vampires’ possessions, the once great city of Miragliano, had finally fallen. And so the great war against the Undead had ended.
well, it would have been a difficult battle for Biagino, that was clear.
the fact that nothing was summoned from the swamp, indeed doomed the defenders.
That said, the bats were the undead's MVP
Two Compagnia del Sole mercenaries, Baccio and Ottaviano, are in a predicament, albeit one which involves chatting in an alehouse. So, not that bad then!
'A Need For Nightmares', being Part 36 of Tilea's Troubles, is now up. Nightmares in both the sleeping and the waking worlds! With some kit-bashed undead ogres figures in the mix.
Tilea's Troubles, Part 37 is up, being some connecting stories. Goblin Big Boss Gurmliss returns, and the 'Sons of the Desert' make their way to Remas.
A new battle report for Tilea's Troubles is up: The Assault on Viadaza, entitled "Death Becomes Them." It features an undead army. Not the player's powered up main army, but a satellite army they had defending a city.
At long last I have a report from the campaign's present day, which means my players (hello, guys) should now be able to forward their orders for the new season to me. Here goes ...
An Excerpt from Bonacorso Fidelibus’s Work: The Many Wars of the Early 25th Century
The Last Months of Summer, 2404
Having tried but failed to rid the marshes surrounding the city of Miragliano of the foul undead …
… the grand alliance army, under the command of Captain-General Lord Alessio Falconi of Portomaggiore, had constructed raft-mounted siege towers and a ram …
… while fresh water was carried from the vicinity of Soncino to the army’s camp every day …
… hoping thus to stave off the sickness bred by the foul, miasmic vapours. Those who did fall ill were sent the other away to the watchtower, there to breathe untainted air.
All these sensible measures bought his army just enough time to complete the construction of the rafts, after which Lord Alessio ordered the assault to commence forthwith.
The battle was hard, but not over-costly to the living. Most of the army’s soldiers praised their general for his haste, for they knew full well that had they tarried longer then sickness would surely have killed many more than died in the assault. The enemy’s walls were captured. The city was taken.
Many hundreds of the undead were slain, and at long last, notwithstanding the vampire priest Biagino’s escape, it seemed the war against the vampires was finally won.
Despite the foulness of their surroundings, the victorious army was in a celebratory mood, incredulous at their very light losses and glad simply to be alive. The Remans had suffered worst - their commander Lukyan Soldatovya, the priest Bendali and the mercenary dwarfs having all sunk to the bottom of the moats foul waters ….
… while the VMC brigade was almost entirely unharmed.
Lord Alessio now intended that his soldiers should live – it seemed the least reward they could expect from their grateful commander - but he could not risk wasting his long campaign and hard-won victory. Staying in, or even close to, the tainted city for any length of time, even a few days, would most likely decimate his army or worse. Sixty years before, when the notorious Reman Arch-Lector Frederigo Ordini’s massive alliance army journeyed into the Blighted Marshes, they died almost to a man. The Remans serving Lord Alessio were most concerned, for the story of the army in the marshes was very familiar to them. Nonetheless, Lord Alessio knew full well he could not leave without thoroughly cleansing the city of corruption.
Command of the surviving Remans had fallen to the captain of the mercenary dwarven crossbows, who was unwilling to tarry even one day more, despite the VMC’s Myrmiddian commander, Luccia La Fanciulla’s attempts at persuasion. (Her pleading was not helped by the fact that her second in command, the wizard Johannes Deeter, was just as keen as the Remans to depart immediately.)
Every drop of water was unsafe, every intake of breath filled the soldiers’ mouths with the rank taste of death. The entire city and the noisome waters surrounding it, stank of rotting flesh. Fat, sluggish, swamp-flies infested the whole land, while not a scrap of edible food remained in the city, nor for leagues around.
The army’s supplies had been stretched to the limits and were now almost wholly depleted, as the soldiers’ homelands were so distant that re-supply had long since become a sporadic, insufficient affair. While the army had passed through living lands, it had supplemented its limited stores by foraging from its surroundings. But that had not been the case since it drew close to Miragliano.
Lord Marcus Portelli, the captain-general’s most trusted adviser, declared this accursed realm to be the sort of place in which vile uomini ratto might breed, or goblins would scavenge, or lizard creatures from beyond the seas could dwell, but for men (he waxed poetically) it was:
“A map of misery, a world of woe, a microcosmos of miasmas; with more disease in it than the pest house at plague-time, and a stink worse than the Mayor of Olessi’s dog-house on mid-summer’s day!”
He then suggested that with the wizards’ help, and what flammable supplies still lay within the city (oil, pitch, tar and all such stocks, which he doubted the undead had had any use for), then even such a sodden place might be wholly consumed by fire, leaving only charred and cracked stones.
He also suggested that a new settlement could be built some safe distance to the south or east, to serve as a bastion against any further disturbance in these parts, and as a base from which the slow recovery of the land might be directed. Perhaps from there the work of repairing the dykes and damns might be done, so that gradually, over years, the marsh’s recent expansion would be pushed back.
The captain-general agreed to consider the matter. In the meantime, he ordered the speedy, but thorough, burning of the city, aiming to leave only when it was properly ablaze. Nevertheless, the Remans now marched away - their only Morrite cleric had died in the assault, so there were no magical prayers or blessings they could offer in the cleansing of the city. Nor did they have any black-powder, or any wizard to conjure fire from the etheric winds.
The VMC’s wizards, Johannes Deeter and Serafina Rosa, and the ingenious siege master Captain Guccio, took charge of the preparations, being assigned a third of the army to assist, plus nearly all the remaining powder supplies.
The rest of the army was ordered to search the city for valuable goods, especially gold and silver, as well as locating all the flammable stocks to assist the arsonist contingent.
The resulting conflagration was impressive, as was the amount of plunder - the undead had left most such things as they lay.
When the army marched away, its officers agreed unanimously that the cleansing had been most effective. But any pride they felt was soon sapped, for lingering just those few extra days proved costly. As they marched east along the road to Ebino, the fever became fatal for many, so that every regiment and company suffered losses.
None knew the whereabouts or condition of the vampire Biagino. But, unlike his mistress the duchess Maria, or her sire Duke Alessandro, he had proved repeatedly weak, having fled from fight after fight, so that most were satisfied he had most likely become but one more desperate denizen of the Marshes; a foul monster haunting some noisome valley, like a wild, territorial beast.
The people of Urbimo, who had lived in fear for so long, had somewhat mixed feelings. The war was won, but a vampire still (un)lived. Pietro and Carlo Cybo began pressing the Reman arch-lector to establish some sort of permanent watch over the state of Miragliano, sufficient to thwart any resurgence of vampires.
…
In the north-east, General Mazallini of the Compagnia del Sole, the governor of Campogrotta, had lost a great many soldiers when the ratmen’s bombard had exploded – including entire regiments of halberdiers and crossbowmen, and two companies of horsemen. Only a handful of survivors had staggered out of the now deadly ground. After the explosion, the Karak Borgo dwarfs marched up the Iron Road …
… and Perrette and the last of the Brabanzon riders departed northwards.
Those who dwelt in Sermide and Buldio made their way to the walled city, fearful of another attack. There were bitter disputes between the Compagnia del Sole and the citizens, but, perhaps inevitably, what with the injuries already received, the lack of allies to assist, and the proximity of the rat-men with their terrible new weapons, Mazallini soon ordered what was left of his once army-sized company to march away along the road to the west.
As the Compagnia made its miserable progress along the road …
… those few who had escaped the battle at the bridge died, after which many more grew similarly sickly …
… for the river Tarano, running beside the road for long stretches, and from which they had been drawing water, proved to have been tainted by the bombard's poison.
They attempted to remedy this by taking water only from the northerly streams feeding the river. They had no new contract, nor any particular destination in mind, but their urge to avoid a miserable death in Campogrotta drove them on.
Despite the absence of soldiers to defend the city, apart from the dwarfs camped some distance away at Lugo, the ratmen moved cautiously. Perhaps they were fearful of a trap? Or their own army had suffered in the explosion? Whatever the reason, several weeks passed, while all remaining in Campogrotta feared another explosion, or an assault. When the wind blew southerly, the city air tasted foul, and flesh-meat, fish and fruit rotted unnaturally fast. The populace learned to use only water from upriver, and to eat nothing from south of the river or even close to its banks. Sickness was rife, and some died. None were foolish enough to venture into the poisoned land, where fatal illness could set in within an hour, while others hid their illness until they could do so no more, some even dying suddenly in the streets.
Then, half-way through the last month of summer, the attack came. Tarano Keep was suddenly captured, despite the meagre garrison blowing up part of the bridge with gunpowder.
From there, having made the bridge crossable for their many engines, the rat-men swarmed over.
With days the city was captured, its populace becoming prisoners. The dwarfs at Lugo did not come to the city’s aid, for they were already close to their mountain home. No riders came from the wilderness to the north, and the Compagnia del Sole was so far away that the blood in the river-water had thinned to nought by the time it passed them by.
None knew what the dwarfen king in Karak Borgo intended, but he had until recently invested a great deal of gold in the recovery of Campogrotta and Ravola from the Bentiglovio and Boulderguts’ rule, hiring not one but two mercenary armies to assist his own warriors in the fight.
Now all his efforts appeared to have come to nought, for both realms were now lost to a new enemy; one which was likely to prove far more troubling to trade and prosperity than the ogres ever were; one that could destroy an army with the launch of but one grenado.
Perhaps not unsurprisingly, there were signs that the sleeping, sylvan elves of Tettoverde had been awakened by poisoning of their forest’s northern-most tip. Having long since spurned nearly all interaction with human and dwarfen realms, other than the activities of the Sharlian Riders (a mercenary company of adventurers who were rumoured to have been outcasts from the forest) it they could not ignore such a threat. And indeed, there were reported sightings of animated trees lurking at the forest’s edge …
… and giant hawks bearing riders high in the sky over the forest canopy to the south-east of Campogrotta.
Such tales had, however, always been quite commonplace. Only time would tell whether, as in more ancient times, the elves would send a host out from the forest’s shadow to thwart their enemies, or whether, as many thought more likely, they would simply prepare to annihilate any and all who dared to trespass upon their realm.
…
Lord Silvano, heir to the bedridden Duke Guidobaldo Gondi, was now ruling Pavona as regent. While his father lay in his palazzio, visited only by physicians and his most trusted servants …
… the young lord was glad to see that the city realm had at long last begun to recover from the cruel battering it received at the ogres’ brute hands. The town of Scozzese was thriving, having extended its cultivated lands and stocks of sheep and kine, while the once fruitful lands of Casoli and Todi showed signs of natural recovery, as Pavonan gentry, traders and peasants flocked to them, there to repair, rebuild and replant. Many were keen to leave the overcrowded city, where hunger had become quite normal.
In the previously conquered realms of Trantio and Astiano, there were signs of a similar recovery, although both presently lay outside of Pavona’s control. Lord Silvano announced that he had never yielded his authority as ‘Gonfalonieri for Life’ (governor) in Trantio, and had only appointed a substitute governor because he himself had been required to fulfil his holy and heartfelt vow to serve the arch-lector against the vampires. That substitute - the wizard Bellastra - had failed to defend the city against Boulderguts’ double army. Lord Silvano declared that he took not just his vows but also his offices seriously, and so (unable to travel there himself due to his many and necessary duties as regent in Pavona) he sent a small force to ensure the safety of Trantio until he himself could return. These soldiers were ordered not just to protect the realm against an advance by the uomini ratto, but also to encourage the city’s healing and enforce the good behaviour of the populace. Trantio, he declared, was to become a bastion from which to thwart any advance by the foe into Tilea’s heartlands.
As a consequence of the attempted assassination of their duke by the Verezzan brigand known as the Pettirosso, a new hatred of halflings festered in the streets of Pavona.
It was said that the duke should have gone much further than banishing the dwarfs several years previously, and instead banished every kind of non-human, including halflings. Of course, this would not have stopped such enemies secretly infiltrating the realm, but it would have meant such assassins found none of their kind to help or harbour them. Indeed, it was presumed exactly such had been the case, which is why the few halflings living within the city state were arrested, either to be imprisoned or worse. The luckiest were thrown into dungeon cells, supposedly to await questioning, but oftentimes forgotten, while any considered able-bodied or quick-witted enough to have assisted Pavona’s enemies in some way, were hunted down by lynch mobs, to be most roughly handled.
This became a cruel sport in the realm, which Lord Silvano failed to rule against. Here was a first glimpse that perhaps he possessed some of his father's notorious wrath? Or perhaps it was his love for his wounded father that spurred his own hatred? Many halflings were pilloried and branded, while those believed to have been part of the Pettirosso’s band were strung up, exhibited alive so that the people could see the fate awaiting all traitors. Some such poor souls were so treated for many days, so that once the baying mob grew bored and drifted away, the more genteel Pavonans might spend a while viewing them, laughing at their pathetic state and fate.
Some were alive when finally cut down, but most had died, as a consequence of the rough handling they had received from the crowd, the lack of food or drink, or a brutal combination of both.
Meanwhile, the city state of Verezzo, now (during Lord Lucca’s nephew’s minority) ruled in practise by the bitterly angry halfling noble, Barone Iacopo, continued to prepare for war against Pavona.
The barone bolstered the realm’s forces as best he could, mustering new pike and crossbow soldiers in the Tilean style …
… yet it remained commonly doubted that he had anywhere near enough strength to defeat the stoutly walled city of Pavona, defended by its still not insignificant army.
Barone Iacopo became further angered by the Pavonan accusation that a Verezzan agent (the Pettirosso) had attempted to assassinate Duke Guidobaldo, publicly declaring that the duke of Pavona had now most likely added slander to his litany of well-known and proven crimes, the worst of which was the murder of Lord Lucca Vescussi in an entirely unwarranted predatory attack on Verezzo at a time of emergency in all of Tilea. And even if the Pettirosso was responsible for the attempt, then it would be due punishment for Lord Lucca’s assassination, and no bad thing. Upon hearing of the maltreatment of halflings in Pavona, the barone became almost apoplectic with rage!
And so he declared publicly, that as Duke Guidobaldo was (perhaps mortally) wounded, and in light of his litany of crimes, the duke must urgently seek to prepare his soul for its journey into Morr's heavenly garden. Furthermore, the barone demanded ...
* That Duke Guidobaldo personally apologise for Lord Lucca’s cruel murder, by travelling to Verezzo to attend a public service in the Morrite Temple there.
* Or if he was too ill to do so, then he should send his son, Lord Silvano, as his proxy, just as he sent the same son to answer to General Valckenburgh of the Army of the VMC before the walls of Pavona, after he slandered the said general by claiming it was his forces that had killed Lord Lucca.
* Or if Duke Guidobaldo refused to apologise and beg for the forgiveness of Morr and the good people of Verezzo, that he should allow himself to be subjected to a church led, legal enquiry (in holy Remas) concerning his actions and claims, and if found guilty of any crime, should pay whatever reparations were judged appropriate and undertake whatever penance was deemed necessary.
* Or if he was too ill to do that, then he should send his son, Lord Silvano, to stand as his proxy in the church enquiry.
The Pavonan nobility advising Lord Silvano considered these demands outrageous, especially as they came from a petty noble ruling a city state that had committed numerous slights and slanders against Gondi family in the past. The Morrite Lector of Pavona, Mauro Capolicchio, thought the halfling lord was foolish to believe he could make such demands of the Reman Church of Morr.
Besides, he added, were Lord Silvano even to allow said enquiry, then as a part of the committee charged with the duty to discover the truth of the matter, then he could prove Duke Guidobaldo had only ever served Morr and the gods first, his own realm second and Tilea third – which was all that can rightly be asked of a noble, Tilean ruler.
The young Lord Silvano, however, being of his own mind, chose to satisfy Barone Iacopo’s demands by sending a proxy (Erkhart, the refugee lector of Trantio) to answer the summons and attend any judicial procedure.
This was indeed done. Upon arrival in Verezzo, Lector Erkhart met with the Barone Iacopo, who was attended by several of his newly raised guard companies.
The lector informed the halfling lord that Duke Guidobaldo was indeed far too ill to travel, or even to leave his bed, having been so badly wounded by the assassin-brigand Pettirosso, and that his son, Lord Silvano, could not possibly leave his many duties as regent, especially as Pavona itself also lies wounded still.
With father and son so disabled from attending, Erkhart was there to stand in place of both, to offer the duke of Pavona’s apologies for any and all assumed and proven offences. Bowing most humbly before the barone, he offered himself as Duke Guidobaldo’s substitute, to receive punishment.
Barone Iacopo was said to be lost for words, for he considered this sending of an unasked for proxy to be but another Pavonan insult. His advisors were equally stunned, and indeed afraid to offer advice to their obviously irate master.
When the barone finally spoke, it was to curse the lector, the duke, his son and all Pavonans, and in no uncertain terms.
At that very moment, one of the lector’s two Pavonan guards brought down his halberd’s blade and struck the back of Erkhart’s head, apparently attempting to lop it off. Prevented from completing his attempt by the Barone’s more numerous guards, both he and the other Pavonan guard were restrained. When questioned, the guard confessed that this act was a misunderstanding; that he thought that such a punishment was required and believed it only right and proper that a soldier of Pavona should carry out the execution.
Lector Erkhart subsequently lay unconscious under the care of a doctor of physic in Verezzo, who were doubtful he would ever recover. His attacker was imprisoned, as Barone Iacopo was not at all satisfied with the account offered. The second guard was sent back to Trantio, there to deliver the message that this response to Barone Iacopo’s justified demands was in every way entirely unacceptable.
What the Reman arch-lector, Bernado Ugolini, truly thought concerning this dispute was anyone’s guess, for his holiness did not reveal his mind when he learned of these events. He had fought beside both Duke Guidobaldo and his son in several battles, against both the vampires and the ogres, forging a strong alliance with Pavona. Yet at the same time, he had long respected Lord Lucca Vescussi of Verezzo, the two having been friends and fellow students under the same Reman tutor in their youth. During the vampire wars, Bernado, just as Calictus II before him, strove to avoid any division or conflict between the city states of Tilea, and now, with the threat presented by the rat-men, could not reasonably be expected to steer a contrary diplomatic course. Nevertheless, it was openly rumoured among the high clergy, that his holiness Bernado knew a good deal about the disagreement between Pavona and Verezzo, having a deep insight into the true nature of those concerned.
…
By the end of summer, having stripped Capelli of every horse available to replace his army’s broken mounts, General Valckenburgh of the VMC and his shattered men arrived at the ruins of Mottola. Much of his foot, with the artillery, were somewhere just south of Raverno, and he had yet to hear from Luccia la Fanciulla in the far, far north.
Leaving the bulk of his exhausted men at the ruins, Valckenburgh went ahead with a small party to the city of Alcente.
There he learned that the city’s hastily raised garrison force had not chosen to pursue the Sartosan army along the road east, as they suspected the enemy’s manoeuvre was a ruse to lure them away from the city, exactly as the Sartosans had previously (successfully) tried, leading to the losses incurred at the Battle of Sersale.
This time, however, it turned out not to be so, for it soon became clear that the pirates intended to sack the newly prosperous port-town of Pavezzano, where they could also embark upon their ships if it proved necessary. They razed the watchtower of Tursi as they passed, taking prisoners (which they later butchered) …
… and there was now nothing the general could do to stop them.
Pavezzano was indeed assaulted, while the Sartosan fleet, which had arrived offshore before the army, cannonaded the defences. There followed a cruelly comprehensive sacking.
Presumably, General Valckenburgh cursed his decision to take so much so far north. For the first time since the VMC had defeated Khurnag’s army, the native Alcentians had begun to wonder whether they really could expect prosperity and peace under VMC rule, and some began rueing the day that military governorship was granted to these foreign soldiers. None, however, were foolish enough to voice their concerns too loudly, for the VMC’s soldiers were still numerous, with more yet to return, and the mercantile company employing them was itself backed by investors with deep pockets, who knew full well just how much they could profit from possession of such a large swathe of fruitful lands in southern Tilea, and who were no doubt willing to send whatever was required to ensure that future income.
The Sartosan fleet, carrying Admiral Volker’s battered but still intact army and a vast quantity of plunder, passed by Alcente on its way back towards Sartosa, bearing some distance south. Even after a string of victories and so many settlements looted, they remained cautious of the VMC’s ships and soldiers, probably aware that if reinforcements had arrived by land or sea, then the enemy might well have regained sufficient strength to defeat them easily in battle.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, despite the vast wealth stolen from no less than five settlements under Alcentian (and thus VMC) rule, the Sartosan’s insatiable greed was not yet satisfied.
And so it was that the wizard, Duke Ercole Perotto, uncle to the hostage King Ferronso III of Luccini, became, at long last, involved in serious negotiations for his nephew’s release. He met with several of Admiral Volker’s emissaries at one of the coastal watchtowers studding the shore for several miles south of the city.
Luccini had begun to heal after the pirate’s incursion, and several Tilean banking families recognised that there was a profit to be made by lending Duke Ercole the sums of money required, underwritten by a share of the recovering realm’s future tax income. Of course, the Sartosans cared not a jot for these details, only getting as much gold as they could, while ensuring they gave no hint concerning just how much Admiral Volker wanted rid of his annoyingly troublesome prisoner.
[UWSL][UWSL]Now, while I am processing my players orders and sorting out army lists and new painted figures, back to the video remakes of the earlier campaign stories.[/UWSL][/UWSL]
[UWSL][UWSL]Part 42 of Tilea's Troubles is now on YouTube. Troublesome news reaches the army camped at Viadaza. [/UWSL][/UWSL][UWSL][UWSL]Campaigns[/UWSL][/UWSL][UWSL][UWSL] can get messy! [/UWSL][/UWSL]
Tilea's Troubles Part 44 is now available, being the prequel to a battle report. (A somewhat faster turnover than usual.) I am currently working on four extra models I need for the battle report, but hopefully it will be up within 2 or 3 weeks!
Tilea’s Troubles, Part 45 is now up! It is a battle report, but from a somewhat unusual angle. Four young lads meet in a cellar to learn what one of them saw when watching the battle unfold. I have to admit, it was a strange feeling turning the account of a game of toy soldiers between two friends (both campaign players) into a child’s description of horrors witnessed!
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