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The Sound and the Fury....

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(no subject) [Apr. 24th, 2007|04:39 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....
stocksstunties
Weekly Report
Mining Expedition 23472
Entry 4
Tholrim of the Iron Fortress

Day 1

The warriors on our west flank have been getting anxious waiting for this imminent attack from the horde of chaos.  However this drawn out preparation period has given us time to strengthen our lines and we are prepared.

Day 2

To our surprise the ogres to our East have vacated the area.  I'm guessing that they ran out of food, or perhaps they received a commission else where.  We will take full advantage of this to fully protect our flank and strengthen our position in the mountains.

Day 3

Today the "Horde" of chaos finally showed up.  It appears that there leader was absent, perhaps he actually was killed at the last battle.  Another possibility is that he finds us to much of a hazard to his own safety when being threatened by the elves from the south.  Regardless we pushed them from the road and scattered their forces.  Our Western flank is still very much secure.

Day 4

It appears the reprieve we had from the ogres leaving will be short lived.  A new force of humans of the Empire have just recently showed up.  It appears that they will be soon mixing it up with the forces of Chaos.  Well at least  while they are fighting each other we can continue to fortify these hills and mine them without interruption.  It appears that our greatest threat at the moment is probably from the elves.  They have been expanding greatly in the empty plains and forests to the south.  Perhaps we should contain them before they get to be to much of a threat.
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(no subject) [Apr. 8th, 2007|12:04 am]
The Sound and the Fury....

halftroll
"Heathens, heretics, brigands, cutthroats, marauders, mutants, skaven, mercenaries... that's all there is here," muttered Johan von Goebels. Johan was a young man, the youngest to earn captaincy in his highly-decorated military family.

"Aye, Johan, that's why we're here." Riding beside Johan was Fritz Thaldhum, a massive bull of a man. The sigil-encrusted warhammer he hefted with ease would not have looked out of place in the hands of an ogre. But for all his physical impressiveness, Fritz was a man of the cloth, a devout priest of Sigmar.

"That's part of why we're here, and you know it." Johan cast his gaze out to the westward horizon. The sky was a featureless grey, and the heath rolled ungently, broken with jags of rock and gnarled clusters of trees. Behind him and before him, men marched.

"Which 'we' do you mean?" Fritz asked with a chuckle. "Not you and I. We know why we're here. You're here because the Prince says so. I'm here to do the work of Blessed Sigmar."

"I mean there is no real reason for an Imperial force to even bother with the Border Princes. The Empire has enough trouble without looking for it in some gods-forsaken wasteland. No, we're here because the Prince knows that when his father dies, he's got no chance of inheriting much more than a spit of land and a rustly pistol. He says we're here to bring the Pax Imperialis to these heathens, and to root out the orcs and beasts, but the truth is that we're here to make a new Border Prince of our lord."

Fritz nodded. There was truth in Johan's words, but he felt that the young captain's resentment was unwarranted. "You fear being stuck in service far from the home you've known."

Johan shrugged uncomfortably. Doubting one's commander and questioning orders were not prized qualities among Imperial soldiery.

"You'll learn to live with it. Lord Magnus has gathered quite a host, and has many wealthy underwriters funding this expedition. You're young, and this will be more adventure than most men will ever see. We're not leaving the Empire behind, we're bringing her with us."

There was verity in Fritz's words. The throng of humanity was impressive. Along with the many, many soldiers were engineers, scouts, skilled laborers, and draft animals. Lord Magnus Leopold Haundraus von Liepzig clearly intended to make himself quite comfortable in the Border Princes. Carts containing raw building materials and tools made that undeniably clear.

Johan sighed to himself as they crested a rise. A suitable-looking piece of land spread out below, and he noted excellent visibility of the surrounding area from his vantage. With a few quick words, he deployed his hunters to determine the area's potential for establishing a base camp.

"There are bound to be locals, Fritz. Did we bring any diplomats?"

"Of course we brought diplomats," laughed Fritz. He pointed with his warhammer back up the baggage train, in the direction of the greatcannons. Johan couldn't help but smirk.
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We have erred [Apr. 7th, 2007|11:45 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....

halftroll
Hey kids,

I've been spending some time with the WHFB rulebook, trying to get up to speed on the new rules. We've been doing a few things that were very correct in previous editions, but no longer so in this:

1. Fleeing units have been greatly simplified. When a unit breaks from combat, they flee DIRECTLY away from the unit that broke them. If they were broken by combat with multiple enemy units, they flee directly away from the one with the greatest unit strength. No more vector of fleeing, anything like that.

They will ignore any terrain (except impassable) and friendly units. If their move would cause them to end inside a friendly unit, continue the move until they are clear of that unit. If their move would cause them to end up coming in contact with impassable terrain or a hostile unit, they are destroyed. Note that if they are somehow forced to flee through one of the enemy units that participated in the combat that broke them, they go through them as though they were friendly. Awful lot like Crossfire in 40k.

On subsequent turns, the unit will move toward the nearest table edge (assuming it doesn't rally).

2. Defended Obstacles now negate all bonuses for the attacker having charged. In the first round of combat, blows are struck in initiative order, lances don't do anything, etc. Also a lot like 40k.

3. Power dice are allocated specifically to wizards. If you have a level 2 wizard and a level 1 wizard, the level 2 gets two dice and the level 1 gets one die. They may not swap or share these dice, though they may draw upon the two "free" dice and any others that may be generated by circumstantial modifiers.

4. Capturing Standards. If a unit breaks from combat, it loses its standard. Remove the Standard Bearer model; the unit no longer may claim the benefit of having a standard. One of the units that broke the fleeing unit may capture that standard (no need to actually pursue and run down the unit). The Standard Bearer model is placed behind the capturing unit as a trophy. Trophies may be recaptured by beating the unit carrying them (no need to make them break), which removes them from enemy hands but does nothing else. At the end of the game, trophy standards add to victory points.

5. Challenges. At the beginning of the close combat phase, the active player has the option of having one character per combat issue a challenge. That challenge can either be answered by an enemy character, or declined (in which case one character must be retired to the rear rank, unable to fight or offer Leadership bonuses). If the active player does not issue challenges, the other player has the option of doing so. If a challenge is fought, the two characters may only attack each other or their monstrous mounts, and the other participants in combat may not take action against them. The only difference is that ALL (unsaved) wounds inflicted on the characters count for combat resolution, up to a maximum of +5. Brutalizing your enemy's leader can be somewhat demoralizing for them.

That's all I've got for now, I'll post more if I find them.
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(no subject) [Apr. 7th, 2007|08:01 am]
The Sound and the Fury....
cerebromancer
Standing atop Tor Anrok, Malari frowned behind his battlemask.  The dwarven armor is thick enough to repel most attacks.  He thought to himself, reaching up to run a clawed hand over his scarred and bald head.  Turning his head to take in his apprentice Malari murmured something in Norsican to him.  A long birdlike screech signalled the pupil's laughter.  "Yes lord.  That will scythe through the halfers like a blade through child's-flesh."  A quick nod and the apprentice disappeared in a flash of light.

Malari continued to contemplate the recent losses to the dwarves, replaying each battle in his mind over and over.  "All things change.  So will the dwarven victories."  He murmured to himself, his alter-egos speaking in turn within his mind's eye.  "I agree, seek them out and we will crush the dwarven cannons where they stand.  Gather to me those daemons that make the sky their home, we will hunt the war-machines and end them, ending the dwarven support and supply lines, scattering them before us."
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3-25-07 [Mar. 26th, 2007|06:23 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....
stocksstunties
Weekly Report
Mining Expedition 23472
Entry 3
Tholrim of the Iron Fortress

Day 1

We have secured our flank against to the East.  Once again our industrious cannons softened up the forces of chaos so they could be driven off. 

Day 2

Taking full advantage of the alliance with the ogres, we have strengthened our position in the hills of north, and fortified our flanks.

Day 3

Our stalwart defenders on our West flank have reported a marching band of Chaos.  They have readied the guns and sharpened there blades.  We are ready to repel the attack.
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3-18-07 [Mar. 22nd, 2007|01:43 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....
stocksstunties
Weekly Report
Mining Expedition 23472
Entry 2
Tholrim of the Iron Fortress

Day 1
We have made great haste to our besieged Stronghold, the rangers have been sent out ahead of the main body to size up the defenders.  It looks like they have made decent use of our fortifications.   However, this shouldn't prove to daunting of a task.  I'm sure this is just postering to force us into some sort of agreement with these ogres. 

Day 2
The battle has gone very well,  the rangers were able to take a strategic watch tower, and from this vantage point rain quarrels down upon the unprotected flanks of the ogres.  All the while the thunderers softened up the charging bulls carrying cannons.  The rest of the battle was a knock down dragout slug fest with the brutes, luckily we managed to run off there leader and retake the fort.

Day 3
I have just recieved word that the forward mining expedition has run into and dispatched a group of crazed demons.  They send word that every foe was defeated.  Although the runesmith described a strange disturbance in the ley energies just before the captain of the Chaos Knights was destroyed.  We may be seing this one again.

Day 4
Apparently when confronted with our superior military tactics and firepower, the ogres decided it best to come to an agreement with us.  They sent an envoy with an alliance preposition stating, that for right of way along the road, they would agree to stay on there side of the river, as long as we do not cross it.  This sounds agreeable, since this will allow us to control the entirety of the these central mountains.

Day 5
We have moved into the Western Road, to our surprise we found a camp of those same damned demons.  This is no good.  They must be pushed back from this road.
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3-11-07 [Mar. 22nd, 2007|08:52 am]
The Sound and the Fury....
stocksstunties
Weekly Report
Mining Expedition 23472
Entry One
Tholric of the Iron Fortress

Day 1
Upon reaching these untapped mountains, we noticed several other groups just arriving.  To the south there is a contingent of wild elves, this is of prime concern, due to there position in the vital forestland on our southern reaches.  To the east seems to be a  marauding band of ogre mercenaries, for the time being we will let them be.  To the west near the old Elven City of Tauranroc a rather small demonic presence is afoot.  We will be keeping a special eye on these abominations.

Day 2
Due to the importance of the forestland to our south.  We have decided to drive the elves out.  They will never allow us free range to harvest the required timbers, so they must be removed.

Day 3
We have arrived at the Elven stronghold to find it empty.  This is a rather odd occurance.  Perhaps it is a trap.  Best to leave this to the mercenaries.  We will be leaving a small contingent of Dwarf Warriors to bolster the humans.  Hopefully this will lessen the exposure our main force will brunt while we are away from our main base.

Day 4
On our way back to the Stronghold we recieved very good, as well as some grave news.  The mercenary company was money well spent, they managed to hold off the elves long enough for them to lose heart and flee the forest.  Soon after runners from the main Stronghold brought news that the ogres had brashly invaded our fortress.  This is Dire news indeed.
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(no subject) [Mar. 21st, 2007|08:16 am]
The Sound and the Fury....
cerebromancer
That damned cannon!  Malari attempted to keep his men and daemons out of its way, though the weapon was crushing them with every minute that passed.  How can these short filthy, bearded creatures be destroying my god-blessed band of warriors?

Another cannon-ball crashed through his knights, crushing two beneath its weight.  This is not going to be a victory for Tzeench.  While amusing, it will be less-so if I am unable to wrest these magical weapons from the dwarves.  Ensorcelling a glamour of illusion around himself, Malari stole away from the knights, his illusory self battling onward.  I need to fall back and gather those I left at the Citadel of Chaos.  Too few of us challenged the short-beards, an error I will not repeat.

As the battle raged on, Malari slipped off into the coming darkness.

Without its leader and with the dwarven war-machine superiority the chaos horde was crushed to a man.  Few stragglers were picked off by keen eyed dwarven crossbowmen and thunderers as they fled. 
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(no subject) [Mar. 17th, 2007|07:43 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....
cerebromancer
Marching through the flat plains of the Border Princes, Malari cast his mystically-sharpened vision to the jagged hills to the northwest.  "Any of you pathetic mewling fools have a clue about what might reside in those mountains?"  For the first time in almost a month the multitude of voices in his mind fell silent.  "I thought not.  Useless as a Bretonian bitch with childe."  He smiled inwardly, thinking over the cacophany that often threatened to steal the remnants of his sanity, yet the Lord of Mystery had not given him his gift without consideration.  With the voices came centuries of wisdom and magical knowledge he could not attain otherwise.  It was a trade he would take again without hesitation.

Flexing his left hand, he had begun to notice that it was stiffening up more and more regularly.  Perhaps an old wound come calling, or some of the incense and other toxins he used to commune with those beyond.  The pain was negligable, though it did focus his mind somewhat.  Perhaps another 'gift' was fostering.

Clearing his throat, the Chosen of Tzeench turned to survey the warband he had gathered.  Those that marched with him did so out of a multitude of reasons, fear, desire, the promise of something great.  And then came the 'others'.  Those who had gathered when he spilled his blood on the shattered crystal altar in the cold north.  Some were almost recognizable and others were beyond anything most minds could bear.  He like to imagine that it was his will that shaped them, that from somewhere deep within his fractured mind there was a place that could contain and control them.  That was true power.

The smell of burned and rotting flesh was absent this day and something about its absence was agitating to the Chosen.  Licking his cracked and bleeding lips, Malari turned to point down at a small band of stragglers that were having trouble keeping up.  "You will keep the pace or you will feed those who can!" He snarled, ten voices off-harmony with one another as he spoke.  His anger was more than palpable, daemon and human alike moving away from him quickly as his will projected power surrounding him and shoving others away.  "Do not DARE disappoint me."  And with that he returned his gaze to the mountains, turning his daemonic steed to the northwest and riding on.

The mountains proved unable to hinder the Chaos horde, through skill, magic and sheer will, Malari marched his warband through the narrow passes, only stopping when one of his daemon-creatures dropped a bloody dwarf corpse at the feet of his steed.  If there was anything the Chosen would have to get used to, it would be looking up for his minions.  The daemonic sky-sharks sailed along regardless of the direction of speed of the wind, obviously riding the winds of magic to sustain themselves.  Closing his eyes, Malari reached back in his consciousness to mentally grasp one of the less vocal psychic forms there.  A fallen chosen, he knew from their shared memories.  "Come to me, Iriastic.  I need your skill at the daemon-tongue."  The mind-speech was strong, but the psychic-form's fear was almost stronger.  "Purple is a color that indeed tastes bitter."  Was the reply, though Malari knew the personality was willing.  After a moment he felt his blood boil, his mind both shielded and connected to the sky-shark.  "Where small food?" He thought-sent to the flying daemon, its flight faultering for a moment before swinging a serrated and bladed tentacle to a narrow pass ahead.

"Ready yourselves." Malari projected to his warband, pointing his sword towards the pass. "This is a chance for us to retain some dwarven rune weapons."  He thought to himself, "This trip through the mountains could not have been better, regardless of the dwarves reputation of being somewhat magically resistant."  His psychic 'advisors' were clammoring consistently now, battle was something they all could appreciate, especially when Tzeench's will was set upon those who believe themselves immune to its effects.  "It is one thing to have a weak-minded elf try to ensorcell you, it is another thing entirely to have Tzeench's Legion drowning you in its wake."  His laughter echoed off the canyon walls, the sound something more like a pack of wild animals being slaughtered than true happiness.  Yet deep inside there was a warm satisfaction.  The Chosen had something to prove to his Master.  It would begin and end with the those who considered themselves outside the realm of magic's touch.
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(no subject) [Mar. 16th, 2007|12:46 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....

halftroll
"Oi, Mergdarg, get the runts diggin' faster! We caught them stunties sleepin', but sure's shine they'll be back! Wouldn't want to dissapoint 'em when they make their homecomin'!" Paymaster Azamat Goldgrin Facekicker's bellow boomed throughout the mountainous stronghold. Just two days hence his mercenary warband had come to this dwarven settlement, butchered the meager garrison with ease, and availed themselves of the excellent casks of beer in the basement.

Azamat knew that the dwarves wouldn't be long in seeking retribution. As a gaggle of tooth-gnoblars roasted one of the former defenders on a spit, Azamat twisted off a leg and chewed thoughtfully. Mergdarg's roared commands were occasionally punctuated by the yelp of an airborne gnoblar, punted or thrown to add emphasis. The runts frantically planted stakes and dug earthworks in preparation for the inevitable dwarven attack.

Casting his gaze to the west, Azamat knew the dwarves' arrival was only a day or two off. They'd made no secret about it, their proud marching songs intoning doom and vengeance for the Ogres. The mercenary general crunched on a femur pensively. A sight out of the corner of his eye made him turn.

"Not there. THERE!" Pointing with the haunch of roast dwarf, Azamat indicated to a flinching team of gnoblars that they were dragging the cannon to the wrong place.

Striding through the camp, Azamat took in the sights and smells of his new landholding. Empty beer casks lay scattered about and already the scrap-gnoblars had gathered a plethora of "treasures" from the dwarves' dustbins. Bulls bragged to each other about how many dwarves they'd eat after the battle while their dutiful gnoblars scampered underfoot, trying frantically to avoid ironshod boots with middling results. A rhinox bellowed in protest as the scrappers lashed their makeshift catapult to it, and the mad, half-deaf ogres of the leadbelcher crew yelled comically at each other over what to load their cannons with.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
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