Ludvig the Accursed no more..... Luddvig Giantkiller!

Luddvig swore when he saw the ogre camp that had suddenly appeared in the valley behind him.
'Shiest!' he said. 'What the hell are they and what the hell are they doing here - and what is that stench!'
'Ogres my lord,' his banner bearer said - a one eyed cut throat almost as wily as Luddvig himself.
'Shiester,' Luddvig said again. 'There between me and the wagon train with all my gold. Sigmar's Shiest!'


Luddvig was a man who liked to avoid battle, unless it was one he was sure he could win - he hadn't risen as high as he had among the Border Princes by taking unncessary risks. But this time it looked like he was outnumbered, and by a foe he had never fought before.
'It's simple,' he bluffed as he marshalled his captains together. But later that night when he called his squire in, he said. 'I'll ride the fast horse tomorrow, just in case.'


The drums sounded as the columns of men took their places. A rank odour spread across the battlefield. 'What do these ogres eat?' Mage Uter wondered.
It was the first time he'd been in battle, and he checked his pills and potions and little talismans, and calmed himself with deep slow breaths.
'Ready?' Luddvig shouted from the right flank, and waved his sword.
'Surely they outnumber us,' Mage Uter said.
One of the men next to him overheard.
'They do. Luddvig's brought us all in a pickle.'

On the right flank Luddvig chopped a giant down and surged forward through the enemy, hacking his way ruthlessly through the ogres before him.
'Sigmar's balls!' he shouted as he wiped the blood of the last ogre he had slain from his cheek. 'Where's the rest of them?'
They looked back to see the rest of the army beset on all sides by beasts and ogres and snapping knoblars.
Through the rank and smoke they could see the knights cutting the enemy down and trampling them under hoof. Then suddenly a great beast appeared. The Tyrant of the enemy host. The stench made all their eyes water.
'As they charged towards Luddvig's swordsmen fire and lightning charged towards them.
'Shiest!' Luddvig thought. 'They'll get my gold! What's happened to the rest of the men?! I best that fool Uter has screwed up again. Last time I take a hireling mage with me!'


The Tyrant stank. Luddvig felt an sudden burst of courage, or foolishness, and clutching a lucky potion he charged forward - single handedly smashing into the tyrant's bodyguard. The tyrant was slow and stupid. Luddvig's sword flashed in the setting sunlight. He chopped and slashed and drew blood from the monster.
For a moment the ogre general seemed about to flee. There was a moment of hesitation, when the ogre ironguts lost their courage and it was only the tyrant's bellowing that stopped them fleeing.
Luddvig laughed at his foolishness, and thought he had won the day, but then a sudden back hand from the tyrant knocked him from his horse. A rain of blows fell against his black armour, and Luddvig laughed them off. 'You fat sack of sweat!' he shouted. 'You'll not take me!'
And the tyrant seemed to understand that there was no way he could beat this manling through a feat of arms, and turning his backside to the man he sat down upon him, and there was a sickening crunch of bones and finest Tilean armour.

The Siege of Castle Ormshole

Bel Fenorr swepted forth with his griffon over the battle lines. Ranks of spearmen, mostly from his home lands, stood to attention, their bright spears glinting in the sun that warmed them despite the high altitude of the mountains. He looked on the castle with scorn and sneered: this was going to be easy.

Only moments after the first elf regiments started their advance on the castle, the air around them errupted in a defeaning roar. It suddenly seemed as if every inch of space between the elves and the castle was filled with lead and shrapnel. It seemed impossible that the men had managed to pack so many guns onto the castle walls, as if their entire force were somehow armed to the teeth with powder weapons. They must have ransacked the entire Empire to have brought such firepower with them, Bel Fenorr thought. Such an array was as unheard of as a pair of steam tanks in one army or a pair of war hydras in the hosts of his dark cousins, for that matter. Elves cried out in pain all around him and Bel Fenorr grimaced at the sight of his kinsmen falling.

In fury he swept forth on his griffon Swiftclaw, the great beast screeching at the men manning the top of the foremost tower. They let forth with a volley of handgun shots and Swiftclaw was torn from the skies, the proud bird crashing down at the foot of the castle. As Bel Fenorr struggled to extricate himself from beneath the body of his fallen steed, a mage of the Empire, a grotesque midget covered in blisters and boils, appeared on the battlements above and licked his lips at the sight of the fallen elf hero. Sniggering with glee at such prey he unleashed a magical fireball and smote the elf hero where he lay. Rendering him unconscious.

As night fell and the men of the Empire poisoned themselves with crude drink and song, Bel Fenorr crept out from under the pile of his dead comrades under which he'd hidden and walked away into the night.

As he reached the peak of the mountain trail leading away from the castle he looked back on it once more with more anger than he'd thought was possible and swore he would have vengeance.

Round 3

IT'S THE END OF SPRING!
3/3
Any dangerous terrain tests are failed on a roll of 1 or 2.
Any wizard casting Lore of Life this season receives +1 to casting value

Mine rolls
Alex: no mines.
Justin: +250 points and a 10 point magic item
Sam: +50 points next battle
Caz: +50 and +250 points for next battle

Random Events
Alex: Stacking the Odds: next game your army is +25% over enemy
Justin: Settlers: pick a tile and plant a flag
Sam: Blood Sacrifice - force enemy to re-roll Character injury table
Caz: Bolstered Defences: any fortification saves this turn at +1

Relics:
Alex: 0
Justin: 1
Sam: 0
Caz: 1

Battles
Sam invades Justin: win to Sam Ogres cause fear to Empire armies. Ogres gain magic artifact worth 60 points and a relic. Empire general captured and sacrificed for 2 relics

Alex invades Sam: Win to Alex and the Skinks!!! Ogre Slaughtermaster has a heroic escape, survivng on stones alone, an experience which makes him even tougher than before (+1Toughness). Lizards army becomes elite. Sam's army driven off.

Seige of Castle Ormshole

It was a lightning strike by the elven foe: and Barrt the Fierce barely had time to put the spy glass to his eye, roar at the halberdiers by the gate to slam them shut and bar them, before the first arrows began flying.

'What shall we do lord?' a petrified hand gunner asked.

Barrt was already scribbling out a message himself, and he fixed it securely to the leg of a raven.

'Seek Marshal Kurrdt!' he whispered and threw the bird up from the tallest tower.

It turned west, with great flaps of his wings, and swerved left as elven scouts appeared from the trees and fitted arrows to their bows.

'Will the Marshal hear?' a man nearest to Barrt asked. His fears were shared by all around him. Barrt did not answer. He turned to the east, and watched a dust cloud rising behind the elven siege train. He put his hand to his hilt, and the sword seemed to hum in satisfaction at the thought of blood spilling to come.

Soon, he thought. Soon, there will be blood enough.



The elves threw a siege around the fort, and Captain Barrt kept his men busy, banned all officers from private messes, and insisted that all men - however well-born - should eat together.

The elves were too impatient for hunger to do it's work. and on the second week they formed up with a blast of trumpets and attacked the fort from all sides.

Barrt had formed his plans long ago, and the men knew their places. Blackpowder in the towers, and halberdiers on the lower walls, where they thought the assault might come. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, and made the sign of Sigmar.

'Help us!' he prayed.



With a blast of trumpets the elven host that encircled the fort rushed the walls. Praying to Sigmar the halberdiers waited, while in the towers the handgunners waited till they could see the white of the elven flags.

'Sire they are attacking us from all sides!' a messenger panted when he had found Captain Barrt slapping men on the back and trading black jokes about Morr and the afterlife.

'Fools!' he laughed. 'Then they will waste their strength!'

Barrt clambered up to a tower to see for himself. Indeed, the elves had come at all sides at once, and no where in strength enough to overwhelm his forces. 'Too slow and with too little strength,' he thought. But the sight gave him satisfaction and hope that they would not meet Morr's gatekeeper just yet.


Once the smoke from the exploding hellblaster had cleared, it seemed that battle was all over. The remaining elves were in full retreat: though most of them lay at the bottom of the walls they had tried to take.

Their leader lay by the carcass of a grey-feathered Griffin, which had crashed from the tower early in the battle. His cloak was smouldering, and his armour was dented with shot. A few of which had penetrated the golden elven armour.

Captain Barrt the Fierce put his foot on the elf's breast. 'What is your name, elfling?'

The elf would not speak.

'Name!' Captain Barrt said, and ground his boot into one of the elf's wounds.

It cursed in elvish. Or some such. 'Speak plain,' Barrt said. He was losing his patience now.

'Fenoor,'the elf said at last. 'Captain Bel Fenorr'

'Well,' Barrt said. 'Get ye gone, Captain Bel Fenorr! This is the land of men, not of elves. It was only arrogance that brought you here, today, before my walls, without canon or shot.'

The elf laughed - a bitter laugh. 'We do not use such crude things,' he said. 'As blackpowder.'

Barrt looked about. The air was heavy with the scent of muskets and canon. Two towers had been set alight by powder catching light. But the walls were strewn with dead attackers. He sniffed and looked back at the wounded elf. 'Perhaps you should try it,' he said.



It was later that day when Marshal Kurdt von Uffen arrived with his knights.

Men were digging graves for the elven dead.

He stopped before the gates. They were shut before him.

Captain Barrt's silhouette appeared between the battlements. 'You are late, lord Marshal,' he called down. 'We have vanquished the foe. They had long since fled back to their own land. Their dead lie in heaps and we are feasting on waybread and fine Ulthuan wine.'

Round 2

IT'S SPRING!
2/3
Any dangerous terrain tests are failed on a roll of 1 or 2.
Any wizard casting Lore of Life this season receives +1 to casting value

Mine rolls
Alex: exhausted.
Justin: exhausted and a 10pt magic item
Sam: 300 and 200 extra points for next battle
Caz: 20 point and 40 point magic items

Random Events
Alex: Settlers: pick a tile and plant a flag
Justin: gain a relic and place a mine
Sam: Enemy sympathisers: fortification rolls made at -1
Caz: Siege Equipment - the next time you attempt to take an enemy's territory, you will succeed automatically

Relics:
Alex: 0
Justin: 1
Sam: 0
Caz: 1

Battles
Caz vs Justin: Justin Win (elite army/green troops caz)
Justin vs Alex: Alex Win Justin army destroyed (Justin roll green troops on defeat)

Round 1

IT'S SPRING!
1/3
Any dangerous terrain tests are failed on a roll of 1 or 2.
Any wizard casting Lore of Life this season receives +1 to casting value

Mine rolls
Alex: 300 extra points for next battle
Justin: 200 extra points for next battle
Sam: 300 extra points for next battle
Caz: 2 x magic items each worth 40 points

Random Events
Alex:
Justin:
Sam:
Caz:

Relics:
Alex: 0
Justin: 1
Sam: 0
Caz: 1

Battles:
Sam vs Caz: Sam win
Caz vs Sam: Sam win
Alex vs Justin: draw

Battles 1&2

Prince Khorandis marched on through the Badlands, his gleaming armour reflecting the glory of his warhost in every curved plate. They had been marching for two days and it was then, as they made their way swiftly through a narrow valley that they heard the howls of two legged beasts upon the cliff tops.

“Ogres,” said Vraitel, the champion of the Dragon Princes with whom Khorandis rode. “How can this be? We were told that the undead inhabited this region!”

“Evidently the winds of fate have blown us off course!” Khorandis replied bitterly. “Prepare for battle!”

Woe betide Khorandis’ host that day, for the horde of ogres rolled over them, not as from any strategy but simply with the animalistic instinct to march straight forward and crush any they found underfoot, and that they did.

“Beasts!” Khorandis hissed from the back of his barded steed as he saw the last of his regiments crumpled underfoot. They had come to this fight unprepared and understrength but as Khorandis turned his back on the field of battle, he swore that he would see the ogres’ blood spilled in a great river of vengeance.

LOSS

Elsewhere the territory the elves had taken came under attack themselves by yet more ogres. Calistari the moon-sage summoned all her powers of healing and potency but the ogres overran them all the same. Her bodyguard, the sword masters of Hoeth, received the blessing of her magic and felt their bodies become as hard as great oaks and yet still the ogres slaughtered them without breaking step.

The regiments of spearmen similarly received Calistari’s attention and likewise became tougher than any elf ought to be and at the same received powers of regeneration and yet still the ogres crushed them easily. All the while, a trio of repeater bolt throwers uselessly sank bolt after bolt into the ranks of the ogres without felling even a single one of their number.

LOSS