McDeath: The Three Murderers aka Paulus, Chico and Stefan

Three ne'er do wells: from left to right; Paulus, Chico and Stefan. Oh, and Ratter too! 

I just managed to snap this shot of my final batch of miniatures for the summer holiday 2015. It's been a brilliant six weeks but now is the time to concede the fact that I must return to a teacher's grind. Having been moved year groups (and key stages) over the holidays I don't really know what to expect. 

As you know, I am attempting to recreate the Glen Woe game next in my McDeath project and as part of that game I need three murderers. I pondered which models to use for a while, but in the end opted for these lovely Citadel militia, two of which have been re-released by the Wargames Foundry now. 

With just today left of the hols, I decided to spend what little time I had left blogging and painting - hence an increase in posts today. The Chico model (centre) was mostly finished, and needed just the chainmail drybrushing. The Stefan model was tided up and the lines on the hose carefully added, but Paulus and Ratter were painted in full today. 

I love Ratter. He is part of one of the old villagers sets, and though not unreleased or even limited in production seems to fetch a high price online. Rather ironic considering his tiny size. I painted him up like the English Bull Terrier he so obviously is. 

If the names sound familiar, that is because they are. These boys are my mini tributes to three Oldhammerers who have done an incredible amount for the community, particularly on Facebook, and I felt that they needed to be immortalised. If you have ever bought or sold on the Oldhammer Trading Company successfully, it was down to the hard work of these guys. 

I salute you all! 

Speaking of these great men of Oldhammer. We have decided between us to do our version of a great Games Workshop classic - namely 'The Tale of Four (Oldhammer) Gamers' in which we will have about eleven months to collect, paint and build a 1000pt Third Edition army to face-off with come BOYL 2016.

Chico has even created a banner to use!



So look out for my introductory post about that soon!

Orlygg

WFRP'd: Out of the Garden or Roleplaying Gnomes

Writing about Little Ron, my unfortunate Gnome crossbowman, recently reminded me of the part the more unusual races once played in Warhammer. Gnomes, pygmies, fimir, zoats... Sure, they had no armies as such, but they added a flavour to the game that later editions lacked, and a wild unpredictablilty of what you actually might have to face if you play a properly GMed game of Third Edition. 

Delving into the past background of the game reminded me of my WFRP'd project. It has a similar mission statement to Acceptable in the '80s, as it is essentially a history of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, with added thoughts about how the huge source of material produced for the game might be applied to Oldhammer. 

So dusting off the WFRP rulebook I delved deep into the next article, one that concerns the previously mentioned Gnomes. Its called 'Out of the Garden' (a quip perhaps to the greenfingered?) and was written by Phil Gallagher and originally published in WD 86.

You may be aware that Citadel produced a number of figures at that time and Graeme Davis has gone on the record to state that he attempted to include all the races that had figures available in the WRFP rulebook. Background material was slight, as I found when I painted a gnome for my Warhammer Bestiary painting challenge- which I must get back to one day! So this article gives us much more information about the Gnomes. 

Reading the first page gives us the usual excuse of variation within the Warhammer World for the player to create their own background,using what is provided as a template. What is interesting to a scenario writer (like me) are the references to gnome pedlars and engineers, with the latter being the perfect way of slipping a gnome into a game. Give him cannon to command or a bridge to destroy!

The second page continues with the in-jokes that made Warhammer so different to Dungeons and Dragons in the 1980s, with mention of the gnomes' love of fishing, and of course the dreadful 'metro-gnome' joke. Humour aside, it does provide us with some useful information about where gnomes live, so if you do have a handful of minis kicking about in your collection its fairly easy to create a setting in which to use them. 

The article goes on to describe the then new Gnome Jester career option. And provides yet more scope to include them in your Oldhammer games, perhaps part of some 'gnobleman's' (get it?) retinue, or as a character within a village or remote inn. 

The third page chronicles the the gnome deity, Ringil, the god of smithying and practical jokes. My eye was immediately drawn to the note about the trials that members of the religion must undergo if they offend the teaching of Ringil, namely the application of some bizarre practical joke! What a fascinating secret mission for a player in a larger game who has a gnome character, eh? 

Now that's an idea I will most definitely develop in the near future!

If you want to know more about Gnomes in Warhammer then perhaps you should pop over to Where the Sea Pours Out and have a read of Richard Irvine's academic piece about them. Graeme Davis also wrote a short piece on their history here.

It was nice 'gnoming' you!

Orlygg

Wachturm Weg: A Warhammer Third Edition Skirmish Battle Report Part Two

And we return to Wachturm Weg and this, the second part of the battle report of my latest Third Edition game. If you missed the first bit of the narrative it can be found here. 

After clearing the farm building of bandits and failing to find the sensitive undergarments, Dan gathered his troops near the magic barrier. The two surviving inhabitants (the gnome, Little Ron, and Brock Fett) had legged it to the Watchtower and were now hidden from view. All he had to do now was cross the barrier. But how?

"Uthse your thsmathsh thspell upon it!" Sir Wilheim ordered. "If we can bring thiths barrier down quickly thothse thscumbagths from the farm won't have the time to regroup and counter attack!"

"The vibration from the ether when I cast that particular spell really affects my digestion," Ludwig grumbled, "and with bowels like mine that last thing you want to to is antagonise the juices of the stomach."

"Juthst get on with it, man!" Sir Wilheim howled in anger. 

Reluctantly, the hedge wizard strode forwards and tapped the barrier gently. Nothing happened. He realised quite quickly their mistake, for such spells are designed to shatter simple inanimate objects and not complicated magic walls. Ludwig summoned up his energies once again and cast a simple fireball spell at the barrier, but that did nothing but absorb further power into whatever magic lay behind this. 

From deep inside his robes a strangled gurgling could be heard and Ludwig winced. 

"What's this sire?" One of the knights asked, after discovering a strange formation of bones and mosses within a clay pot. 

"The key to this wall," Ludwig called excitedly, his bowel movements forgotten momentarily, "I order you to break it - such an action should destroy this barrier and let us through. 

"Not me," the knight protested, dropping the skull onto the grass, "I'll be frazzled or have by soul blasted to a thousand pieces. Everyone knows that tinkering with magic only leads of painful oblivion!"

"By all the Godths, why muthst I work with thsuch incompetentths? Its juthst a thskull and thsome dried mothsseths cobbled together by thsome rancid hedge wizard like Ludwig! Give it here..." Sir Wilheim snatched up the odd creation and broke it to pieces, a strange blue jewel fell from the jaw. "Thiths ithsn't the dark creation of a necromancer, or machinations of chaoths - its a thsimple thspell eathsily broken and will bring no harm to anyone at all. Now follow your orderths and move, even an imbecile like you thshould have noticed that the barrier is now down!"

And with the tirade over, a single fireball flew from the watchtower's window and incinerated Sir Wilheim in seconds. His blackened body collapsed in a heavy pile of broken mail and burnt cloth. A hideous smell filled the air, like a poorly cooked barbeque dinner. 

The remaining knights barely had time to react to the sudden demise of their leader when the door of the watchtower burst open and two hideous 'things' emerged from the blackness within. The first was human sized and moved with an awkward gait, while its body with fantastically muscled its face appeared to have been peeled clean of skin. And only its grinning skull was left to glare balefully at the knights.

Its companion was even more grotesque, if such a thing was possible. It was had once been a dwarf, judging by the beard, but that was all that was left of it now. The exposed skin had been turned green by some strange corruption, the left arm was twisted into some tentacle and an unnatural tail sprouted from its rear end and swayed in the air like a snake. 

Both mutants, for mutants they were, wasted no time in attacking. The former dwarf charged Ludwig while Skullface (as he was known) collided with Sir Bleu, smashing down with its crude club. 

"Chaos!" Screamed a knight. But Sir Bleu, who had taken over command since Wilhelm' death, overcame his fear and darted forwards in a desperate counter attack. Spurred on by his example, all but two of the remaining knights overcame their fear too and darted forwards. 

"We outnumber them," Sir Bleu rallied his men, "and they'll fall easily. Strike! Strike! Strike!" 

Though the dwarf looked hideous, its was clear to the men who fought him that its mind had been blasted by the mutation ravaged upon its body. The moronic look in its eyes barely changed as he was cut down; green blood seeping into the grass in a curious stain. Skullface fought better and managed to parry the blows directed at him. One blade struck his muscled skin but bounced off as it made of stone. 

The door of the watchtower burst open again and two more figures stepped out into the melee. Both were humanoid and though marked by chaos, seemed less mutated that those who came first. The two thugs looked more than competent fighters and dashed forwards in eager haste. 

Cutting savagely with a curved sword, the green skinned thug cut down a knight, the force of the blow bursting the links of the chainmail and nearly severing the unfortunate's arm. His companion roared wildly, and darted forwards in support of Skullface. 

Overcoming their fear, the two knights that had held back found their courage and waded in to the combat. One knight, clad in yellow and red, cut down the thug who had raced to support Skullface. 

For the third time in as many minutes, the door to the watchtower opened and Brock and Little Ron emerged into the daylight. The gnome ran around the edge of the tower and pulled at the cord of his crossbow, cocking the weapon. Brock stepped forwards and deftly cut down a green surcoated knight, his blade piercing the mail beneath the cloth and splitting the man's belly open. Grinning viciously, he kicked the body down the hill and eyed his next target.

Little Ron took aim at a knight and loosed a bolt. Its pointed head was deflected by a shield and, frustrated, he bent down once more to cock the weapon. With a brutal hack, the blue-skinned thug cut down another knight, this time caving in his forehead so the poor man's brains splattered across the grass. Holding his shield in the air he let of a howl of delight, calling on the dark gods he had sold his soul to to watch him in this moment of triumph. 

Brock stepped down towards a fresh target, but Ludwig blasted him to pieces with a fireball spell. 

For a final time, the watchtower door opened and a red jacketed beastman emerged, charging with delight into the knight who had just killed the orange skinned thug. Though fearsome, the creature was slow and the knight easily parried his attacks. 

Skullface fell, his cranium shattered by a sword edge. The knights who had been fighting him surged forwards like a crest of a wave, spreading out to join the fight against the blue-skinned thug, the beastman and Little Ron. 

With the tide of the battle turning, the remaining thug was felled with multiple hack and slash wounds. 

Outclassed, Little Ron was stabbed to death without releasing the bolt he had just loaded. His vanquisher ending his life with brutal skill. 

Now only the beastman fought on. The standard bearer dashed for the watchtower's door, and grabbing the handle found the entrance to be unlocked. He made to dart inside the blackness but another gigantic fireball struck him in the body. Flames caught hold of him in an instant, and he collapsed to the floor in rolling agony. 

Wounded and gasping, the beastman let out an awful bray and fell to the vengeful blades of the remaining knights. As its limp body rolled down the incline the battle was at its end. 

The surviving knights stood in silence, their armour and weapons thick with blood, not all of it red or at all natural. Ludwig emerged from the bushes, fussing with his robes, asking "Did I miss much?" 

Ludwig, hurried the surviving knights clear of the door before approaching it carefully. Closing his eyes, he seemed to concentrate on the wood of the entrance for s few seconds, before declaring the area to be safe. 

"The smell of blood always brings out my irritable bowel," he said, "I can feel my lunch positively blocking up my guts. I'll be a long time in the privy once we clear this place."

The surviving knights just grimaced as he lead them inside the tower. 

Inside, they found nothing. Just an empty space full of filth and decay. Discarded bones, not all of them animal, lay mouldering on the floor. A set of rickerty steps lead upwards. 

"Blast!" Ludwig complained, "no crapper!" 

Organising themselves, the knights ascended the stairway. The steps lead them up to the top story and what met them their terrified the lead knight. A chaos sorcerer, his face a frightful mess of bone and fang. Green poison dripped from its mandibles and a blue tongue, tipped with a snapping face of its own, slid into the dank air. 

So this was the evil behind the place, Ludwig thought. No doubt forcing the local bandits to do his bidding. Well no longer!

The leading knight couldn't control his fear, and tried to flee back towards the steps. He collided with his colleague and threatened to knock him back down the steps. Pushing wildly, the eyes that stared through the slits of his helmet betrayed a madness to far gone to remedy here. His lack of control put them all at risk, and the knight who faced him cut him down with an enraged blow!

How dare he risk their lives with his weakness!

The chaos thing was pleased to see its enemies destroy each other, and stepping forwards raised a crooked finger...

"I'llll pulllll youuuu aparttt!" The creature slobbered.

Tearing the traitorous knight into pieces with the force of its will, the chaos sorcerer smiled again, his snaked headed tongue whirling in the air, revelling in the scent of death. 

"Go forwards," Ludwig ordered the black knight, "avoid it's tongue... Go while it's weak from the spell!"

Dashing past the sorcerer, the knight swerved to avoid the lashing tongue. Ducking under a blow from the strange club the creature of chaos wielded, he darted against the nearest wall. Ludwig raised his own hand and directed it towards their enemy. 

"Pull my finger!" He shouted, and unleashed a fireball straight at the sorcerer. The holy fire burnt through the bone-like armour that served as the creature's skin and the power of the spell splintered it's body in two. The force of the impact slammed the sorcerer back again the wall, its robes now all singed and gathered up around the loins. 

"The undergarments!" The black knight called out. "The sorcerer was wearing them!"

Trudging through the grass, the surviving knights followed Ludwig. Sir Bleu shook his head again, trying to restore order to his quaking limbs. Chaos! Here in the Empire? And common men willing to work for such a creature? Was there any hope for the world?

"What do we do know?" He asked, hoping that Ludwig would have some scrap of wisdom to help settle his shattered mind. 

"Find a shitehouse," was the wizard's response, "I need to lay a brown onion that would startle a follower of the dark gods."

The End

Wachturm Weg: A Warhammer Third Edition Skirmish Battle Report Part One

I have some very good news. My dear friend, Dan, has reappeared from the depths of the maelstrom and he assures me that his famous Heroquest collection is still very much in existence. You know, the near mint set given to him by a work colleague who thought he might like it. Follow the link to find out more about that haul! 

Anyway, with his return I planned a suitable Oldhammer style game as I doubted he'd had much time to throw dice about a table in the two years since I last saw him. We are lucky with our house, as we have a very sunny conservatory off the kitchen that I use for my hobby activities. Setting up the table I created for the McDeath game at the Foundry, I utilised some repaired Warhammer Townscape buildings I put together for an old Realm of Chaos game we played years back. That game was called The Walls of Contagion and was the second ever battle report I included on this blog. It's in three parts and can be found here, here and here.

That game was played over three years ago and the buildings had suffered a little. I rebased them and black lined the white edges left over from scoring the card but didn't get around to painting the sand I'd stuck down. Not that it seemed noticable once the models were set up on the table. 

Once Dan was settled, I passed him his brief and armylist. I'll include it here so you get a flavour on what he had to work with. The game began with this missive: 

"You are Sir Danek Wilheim, Lord of the Landloseritter of Flusstadt, and commander of a group of foot knights. You have been sent up river by the local Duke to clear out a group of irritating bandits who have been preying on local rivercraft. Rumour has it, an important dignitary has had an embarrassing consignment of silken underclothes stolen and will stop at nothing to reacquire them. Your orders are simple; flush out the bandit camp, eliminate their menace and locate the underclothes post haste.

Local Rivermen have reported odd goings on around Wachturm Weg, a derelict watchtower to the north. The area is remote and the maps you could muster back in Flusstadt were poor indeed, so you have little to go on, though there is a sheep farm reported to be based near the remains of the tower.

Perhaps you could start there?"

And his patrol force was made up of the following: 

Sir Danek Wilheim, Lord of the Landloseritter. Level 15

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3	7	7	4	4	2	7	2	8	7	8	7

He is armed with a hand weapon, light armour and a shield. SV 4+

9 Foot Knights

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3	4	3	3	3	1	4	1	7	7	7	7

Your knights are armed with a hand weapon, light armour and a shield. SV 4+

Ludwig Hecke, Wizard Level 15

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
4	5	3	4	4	3	4	1	9	9	9	9

SV 6+   Magic Level 2.  Power Level 21.

Spells: Level 1 Battle Magic: Aura of Resistance, Fireball, Immunity to Poison. Level 2 Battle Magic: Mental Duel. Mystic Mist, Smash.

Reaching for the dice, the game was suddenly in hand. Now before I go on to explain what occurred let me briefly explain how I approach games of this type. My role is GM and I hope to create a scenario where the player has more fun than I do. There were several points in the game where I could have attempted an action that could (and I stress could) have ended the game for Dan, but I chose not to as I had created a story I wanted to lead to its conclusion. 

The rules are there purely to facilitate the story. 

It had been a tiresome river journey that had taken most of the morning and all of the previous day. Sir Wilheim's men were irritable as they strode down the gangplank towards the glistening beach, and he could hardly blame them, cooped up as they had been on the prow of the boat that had rushed them through darkness to Wachturm Weg. The tide was out now, but a deep channel had been cut through the sand that allowed the small boat to cruise up to the beach and drop them off. 

"My bowels..." grumbled Ludwig Hecke, a local hedge wizard and authority on the area they had been sent to explore. "They are never sturdy after a river voyage, they gripe you see, they gripe! Must be all that clean air." Rudely, the scruffy fellow pushed past Wilheim and strode through the dunes that lead to the shore line. 

"I thsay," Sir Wilheim called indignantly, "you cannot juthst go around puthsing Knighths of the Realm around you know? There can be conthsequenceths to thsuch behaviour! I'll have you on a boat to Bogenhafen if you continue in thiths manner!

The dishevelled wizard completely ignored the Lord Knight and pushed his way through the long grass that lead to the scrubland beyond. 

"Bloody wizardths!" Sir Wilheim swore to himself as his command straggled towards him. Nine knights from various duchies made up this force, each of them landless and, like him, in dire need of cash. hence missions such as these always fell to them. Recovering potentially embarrassing items from bandits and vagabonds was his daily bread. 

As his men fell into step behind him, Sir Wilheim walked north. He could see little of real interest and nothing threatening at all. Nearby stood a sheep farm with what looked to be a solitary shepherd peering curiously down at his small patrol.  

While to the east, Wilheim's sharp eyes spotted the diminutive form of what appeared to be a gnome fetching apples from a tree. The little fellow was quite unperturbed by their arrival and carried on with his task regardless. 

"Thso," Sir Wilheim said to his men, "thethse are our localths. To whom thshall we thspeak firthst about the whereabouths of these bandiths, eh? Well, the thshepherd is clothsest, thso we thshall begin there. Watch your guard though, for thethse remote placeths often thsee the local inhabitanths more willing to adhere to the orderths of cutthroathts than their own rightful lord."

Sir Wilheim approached the shepherd with the easy authority that comes to those born to command. "I thsay, I thsay," he called pompously, "come here thso I might ask you a few questionths!"

The shepherd glared back at him with a look totally lacking in respect, before grudgingly taking a few paces forwards to meet the knight. 

"Are you aware of any bandit activity in the area? Reporths of stolen cargoeths? Thingths like that?" Sir Wilheim continued, deciding to ignore the disrespectful look that the shepherd was exhibiting and press on with his quest for information. 

"I doe knoo anythen abart anny bandits," the shepherd spat, "but I does knoo its rude ter just walk into someones um an' start barken orders loike yaouw own the place!"

"That may well be the cathse but I shall have to thsearch your property just the thsame." Sir Wilheim demanded, getting a feeling that this difficult individual was hiding something, and in his line of investigation, suspicious usually meant guilty. 

"I suggest yaouw all bugger off or I'll set me sons on yaouw!" The shepherd barked back. 

And without another word, he strode around the corner of the building and in through the doorway concealed at the back of the house. The sound of bolts being thrown across study wood followed shortly. 

"Right men," Sir Wilheim managed, trying to rescue as much of his lordly dignity as he could,"I'll have that door down now!"

Three of his burly knights strode forwards with their axes drawn. They were rather experienced at this kind of work and recognised immediately that blades would make slow work on the solid oak beams that confronted them. Dutifully, they passed this observation on to their commander. 

"Damn!" Sir Wilheim swore. "Ludwig... Ludwig... Do you know a thspell that will make thshort thrift of that doorway?" 

"I would, lord," the hedge wizard moaned, grabbing his stomach, "but these bowels of mine have been troubling me since I ate that pickled herring on the boat and I am not sure they'll hold up right and decent if I try with my magicks!

He cough and winced, as if to illustrate the point. 

"Just do it! And you men thsearch the houthse. I'll take the rethst of you over to that gnome character and see what he haths to thsay for himthself. Thsomeone muthst know thsomething about the local bandiths and I'd bet my blade that thethse foolths are in deep. Let'ths go!"

Behind the door the sounds of scraping furniture could be heard. Along with metallic clinks that could easily be weapons and armour being prepared. 

With that, Sir Wilheim marched along the path with three of his knights towards the tiny fellow working the fruit tree.

"One of thethse dayths I'll get the damn rethspect I am owed!" He muttered with frustration under his breath. 

As they approached the tiny humanoid, the gnome carefully climbed down from his ladder and picked up a small, but rather dangerous looking crossbow. Unbeknown to SirWilheim, this gnome wasn't just a humble apple picker. He was Little Ron, the infamous Gnome thief and he had explicit instructions what to do if such an incident like this occurred. 

So as the knights advanced, he carefully cocked his weapon. 

"It's often watery you know, watery! And that is on a good day! Any type of seed or cereal causes havoc with them, you see? I barely have time to get to the outhouse before its gushing out of me... and the smell! 

Ludwig continued in this vein until he reached the door, explaining that fish also cause problems for his digestive system in bad weather, then he lightly tapped one of the broad planks that made up the doorway with a filthy finger.

BOOM!

The door exploded backwards into a thousand tiny fragments. Black smoke swirled like dragon's tails. Somewhere inside the building a piercing whistle sounded...

And as if they had been waiting for that shrill call, two figures burst from the unguarded rear door and dashed around the corner of the house. Bob Lambshank, the halfling cook, came first (encouraged by the potential threat to his larder) while Otto the Zani drew his two blades behind him. 

With the door blown off its hinges, Sir Wilheim's knights rushed into the room with practiced efficiency. Spreading out, they engaged the bandits racing down the stairs. Sir Blau lead them into the melee, and was not surprised to see the fat, corpulent shepherd egging on the group of assailants before them. Despite the dance of daggers being played out around him, Sir Blau could make out their foes quite clearly despite the smoke. A wild bandit with long hair, dressed in the Albion fashion swung a sleek sword at one of his comrades while a savage looking half orc slashed wildly with a gigantic mace. 

Meanwhile, the two remaining knights out in the farmyard raced to reach the rear of the building, unsettling the sheep and casing them to buck at the fence of the pen that held them fast. 

Brock Fett smiled with satisfaction. These arrogant fools had thought to blast them to the gods with magic, yet he had been swift enough to order his followers upstairs. He has been ready for this day for years, as all bandits and robbers are, and his men were well versed in what to do if they were attacked. Axehavoc, his half-orc bodyguard, swung wildly with his mace and landed a crashing blow upon the shield of one of the knights, sending him staggering backwards. Brock smiled again, he may look slovenly, but he was a master swordsman, and these knights looked to be lacking in their trade!

Outside Lambshank and Otto clashed with the knights in the farmyard, but blades had hardly bounced from the early parries when the sheep broke free in a panic. Leaping wildly over the fence that trapped them, four of the smelly animals careered into the fighting men...

Sending them all crashing to the floor...

Alerted by the shrill whitsle, Little Ron let loose a bolt from his crossbow, but the projectile snickered into a nearby bush and vanished. Sir Wilheim charged forwards with his axe raised but the small gnome simply turned, made a few hurried signs with his fingers and walked off towards the distant tower. 

Sir Wilheim dashed after him, perplexed by the little creature's strange behaviour, and ran straight into a magical barrier that stopped him and his men, dead! They couldn't cross the invisible line to reach the watchtower! 

Smiling slyly, the gnome slipped away to do the Master's bidding...

The orc lay dying, his blue-black blood spreading like a gruesome stain across the flagstones. The Albion bandit struggled to stem the flow of blood that seeped from a severe cut along his neck, within moments he knew he'd be dead. Their boss, Brock Fett, stood between them as the flithy looking wizard who'd blasted the door off its hinges pointed forth his finger and let loose a fireball at the gurning bandit chief. 

Better to die in battle than burn like a pyre, the Albion thought as he died. A fire ball, all green fizz and anger, raced across the cramped space and collided with Brock. Incredibly, its terrible fire did little to harm the bandit and he emerged from the magic infused smoke with hardly a scratch.

Hardly believing his luck, Brock turned and fled as the knights and Ludwig were momentarily astonished by this miraculous escape. He darted through the undamaged rear door and out into the garden. 

One of the knight's axes split the halfing's shoulder in two, and the pitiful creature fell screaming to the floor. Otto caught sight of his leader fleeing into the garden and attempted to break off the fight with the remaining knight as his colleague finished off the squealing hobbit. Blood splattered across the bags of wool that lay abandoned in the burnt grass. 

Still dazed by the incredible luck of the bandit leader, another knight stepped out into the light of the farm yard and made his way along the space between the building and the hedge - he would bring that fat fool down. 

Moving with surprising speed for a man of his age with a nagging internal complaint, Ludwig sped into the garden. Brock dithered, and decided that fighting hand to hand with the wizard was preferable to taking a second fireball in the chest. Turning, he landed a brutal blow on the wizards arm that wounded the spellcaster slightly. As the older man collapsed, Brock landed a hefty kick in his victim's ribs knocking the sense of the wizard's mind. 

Frustrated by the magical barrier, and concerned by the sounds of battle behind him, Sir Wilheim left his men to try and find a gap in the magical wall. From where he was standing he could make out the brightly coloured surcoats worn by his men as they rushed about the farm. Faint smoke still rose from the area of the front door. A sudden scream rang out...

And was silenced by a sword as Otto had his head sliced from his shoulders. His killer calmly cleaned his blade on the stinking furs he'd worn about his person while his colleagues searched the farm building for any sign of the stolen undergarments. Despite uncovering a great deal of stolen goods, there was no immediate sign of what they were really here for. 

As the wizard staggered back to his feet, he caught sight of Brock leaping over the hedge. Though Ludwig didn't know it yet, the fat bandit was making the same quick signs with his hands as the gnome had done minutes previously. Passing through the magical barrier, Brock made his way towards the looming shape of the watchtower on the hill. 

His master would have questions...

To be concluded....

If you're interested, here are the character stats that I devised for the baddies in the game. As you can see, only Brock Fett was a real threat to Dan's forces, being a Level 10 hero. Still, once in contact with another player things didn't go as I thought, with Dan sending his prime fighter. Sir Wilheim, off wandering the trackways rather than dealing with the bandits. 

It didn't change the result much, bar Ludwig taking two wounds from Brock in the fight in the garden as the knights were more than a match for a bunch of bandits. Dan's dice rolling was poor, especially with his fireball spells (which he loves using) and it was his higher SV really got him through the fight at the farm house, rather than the improved weapon skill.

I always planned for him to be able to deal with the bandits with little trouble and included a little puzzle for him to solve in the magical barrier. 

The Villains

Brock Fett, Bandit Chief, Level 10

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
4	6	3	4	4	3	4	2	8	7	7	7

Hand Weapon SV 5+

Axehavoc, Half Orc Bodyguard

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3.5	3	3	3	3	1	3	1	7	6	7	7

Hand Weapon Light Armour SV 5+

The Two Brigands, Otto and Donald.

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
3.5	3	3	3	3	1	3	1	7	7	7	7

Hand Weapons, Light Armour SV 5+

Bob Lambshank, Halfling Cook

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
2.5	2	4	2	2	1	5	1	6	7	6	8

Hand Weapon Light Armour SV 5+

Little Ron, Gnome Thief

M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Ld	Int	Cl	WP
2.5	4	3	3	2	1	3	1	8	7	7	8

Hand Weapon Light Armour SV 5+