Friday, 13 October 2017


 Hello you wonderful peeps!. You may recall that a month or two ago i had a bash at the great rules Mr Tar came up with for grid based gaming on his blog (you can find the rules here and my game using them over here). I enjoyed using the grid for gaming and the rules were very simple but very satisfying to use so i decided to have another go. I also wanted to revisit the forces of the last game to continue the story and examine what happened after Lord Tristan took over old Lord Holesters lands. This game jumps forward a few months from the end of the last.....

  'T'was a time of great up'eval in Fools Corse. Old Lord Holister t'was all dead n' that, in his place Lord Tristan the Boulde had taken 'is seat and pillaged 'is lands. Across the villages fear ruled as Lord Tristans men did as they would, taking from the poor and burnin 'ovels an such like. But some of Lord Holisters men survived the massacre at the dam and they were sure as shite not gonna lays down an' let is memory be dragged through the mud by the evil new lord. They hid in the forests around Fools Corse, living as outlaws and raiding the new Lords stores and killin' 'is men an stuff. As each day.....' ERE DAVE, DAVE.....DAVE!!!....WHY YOU TALKING LIKE THAT DAVE???!!!'.
Mouldy Dave came to with a start, 'Wassat... whereisitnow... whattayawant!!' he turned and came face to face with the boil covered mud splattered face of Riddled Larry, he was grinning in a kind of 'im not sure whats happening but if i smile hard enough i may just get away with whatever i just did wrong, in this case interrupted a weird moment where my only friend (with any legs of course, Drag along Stus' a right laugh) has been in a kind of trance monologuing away like a good 'en' type grin and holding a half chewed turnip. 'Why you talkin like that Dave?' asked Larry. 'I was doin' exposition Larry' Dave answered in a haughty know it all fashion. 'EH???' replied Larry, he said EH?? a lot to express a whole raft of deep and meaningful emotions, in this case confusion. He took a bite of turnip to help him think. 'Exposition Larry, its the job of explainin' important plot points through the act of speech, its a story tellin' mechanic used by writers too crap or lazy to properly expand on what has gone before, instead they just get a character the reader is already familiar with to dump a whole load of infomation for no real reason. Its normally shoe horned  into some situation of no real consequence to the overriding story arc'. 'EH??!!' replied Larry, his brain aching. 'Put simply Larry', started Dave 'That bell end at the keyboard that writes this crap cant be bothered to explain weeks of made up history so has dragged us one dimensional single note jokes out of the further reaches of his battered and abused mind to do it for him!'. 'Ooooooh', replied Larry. 'Fancy'..........................Larry and Dave stood for a moment looking awkward before Larry said 'Don't mind me, carry on'. 'You know what Larry, i don't feel like it, he can do his own bloody story telling......lazy bastard, who does he think he is, bet he i'nt even a proper writer, just some tool that plays with toy solders. And he cant even flesh out a character or explain a setting, for all the reader knows we're stood in a blank void, he has yet to give any thought to where we are supposed to be at this moment or to relay that info to the reader!, and anoth......'

Right thats quite enough of that, i'm not having that kind of unruly made up behavior on this blog thank you very much!. As Dave was saying, The survivors of the battle of the dam were living in the forests (setting, see forest...setting, stick that somewhere painful Dave!!) and raiding lord Tristans wagons, stores and patrols and generally trying to fan the flames of rebellion to bring about bloody revolution in the land. Having had enough of that, Tristan has sent a force into the forest to put a painful and very bloody end to this type of thing!. However the outlaws have caught wind of his plan and await the coming force........... in ambush!!!!!( cue dramatic music!).

.....So onto the game......

  The game is played between two forces. One represents the force sent by Lord Tristan to beat the bejezus out of anyone outlaw lookin' in the general forest area and one is the outlaws waiting to ambush them out of their clunky metal boots. The Outlaws begin in any hex within 2 hex's of any board edge and the ...em....lets call them ...i dont know....bastards set up within 3 hex's of the center of the board.

The forces are:
Outlaws: 1 unit of 4 Knights, 4 units of 5 serfs and 3 units of 3 serf archers. All the outlaw forces are on white bases with yellow trim.

Bastards: 2 units of 3 Knights, 3 units of 5 serfs and 2 units of 3 serf archers. These troops are all on blue bases with yellow trim.

The only addition i have made to the rules are to give Knights +1 to their saves, because they are each wearing more metalwork than all the serfs combined!.

Both forces are attempting to wipe out or run off the other, the outlaws move first.

The starting positions. Note to self, TURN THE BLIMMIN CAMERA!!!!.

The battle begins with the Outlaws erupting from the trees to surround the Lords men. Arrows are loosed to little effect as the forces close.

Arrows fly, no one dies!!!.

Before long scuffles break out all around the board!. On the left the Lords men charge the outlaw forces .

On the right the Lords horse engage the outlaws with their only support coming from a unit of archers.

In the middle the Outlaw knights charge into the surfs closest to them!.

back on the left the numbers of the Lords men begins to tell and gaps begin to show in the outlaw lines.

Not going well for the outlaws!

The right was a different story as the archers and then the Lords Knights were overwhelmed by the combined serf units!.

The Outlaw knights were having trouble with a single serf that refused to die, he made his saves for three rounds in a row pinning the knights in combat!........
'Raah i'm frickin' lance proof!!!!!'

........while on the left the outlaws were picked off until only one remained. but not for long!.

'Help i forgot my sword resistant underpants!!!'

On the right the result was reversed as the last of the Knight unit fell, although the outlaws took far heavier losses doing so.
A knight. Fallen.

The Outlaw knights finally managed to kill the near indestructible serf but it was to no avail...... the losses finally told and the outlaw serfs headed for the hills the knights had little choice to do likewise to live to rebel another day. The outlaws were broken and the people of Fools Course face a very uncertain future!.
The brave rebellion is at an end!!.

That was a lot of fun. The rules as ever give a very clean, quick game and work well for a medieval ding dong even though they were written with Victorian scraps in mind. Giving the Knights a little more staying power by upping their saving throws worked out well and made them very good at mowing down serfs for the most part (*coughcrapoutlawscough*). I'm sure i will be using them again as i have some ideas of how to end this story with a final show down, i have a feeling these rules can handle a mass battle and i am keen to try them out for one!......if Dave and Larry play ball that is!...... 

Anyway, lots more to come on this one...'till next time......

Saturday, 7 October 2017

Blood, Guts and Severed heads...Extra!!

Hi all, just a very short post to say i have added a bunch of extra optional rules to the child friendly quick playing rules in the form of more upgrades, extra spells and a few other ideas. You can check them out by clicking just about here and scrolling down. Hope they add something to the rules and as ever they are designed to create a 'tool box' type set you can dip in and out of as you wish.

And i done some more pictures to go with it.

Anyway, hope it tickles your pickle....till next time.....

Monday, 2 October 2017

Mentally Terraformish: When in Lamavic (AAR1)

Hi folks, it feels like its been a while. I started a new job last week so things have been a bit slow round here as focus has been diverted but fear not, i wont be ignoring these prattish pages of (un)polished pointlessness and procrastination (try saying that five times quickly after a few pints!), i will be updating as an when time allows so bear with me and i will reward your patience with my peculiar brand of tosh and prattle!. Speaking of which i have an AAR to write!....

 Governor Paral starred down his nose at what was once scribe Garrat and tutted to himself, he slowly walked back to his solid oak desk and sat, still tutting as he went. He drummed his fingertips on the table top and sighed. 'So you say he rejected our most generous offer....' he glanced down at a piece of parchment on the table and back down his nose at Garrat who was shaking before him...' and he had the nerve to kill all the guards we sent with you. Tell me Scribe, did he say anything positive at all?'. 'No my lord, not a thing' replied Garrat. 'He said, and im quoting him directly, he said, ''He'' meaning you of course my lord, ''he can can....he can chew on my shite before he gets my land'', he had the gaul to say that!'. Parals face was unmoved by the scribes words. 'Did he' he said after a pause. Garrat shuffled beneath the governors burrowing gaze. 'And he said something queer my lord'. 'Really' said Paral in mock surprise, 'tell me scribe, what did he say?' Paral lent forward, his gaze intensified. 'He said something about the offer sir', started Garrat. 'He said, and its mad sir, shows just how stupid and uneducated these savages are sir, he said, and this will make you laugh sir when you hear it, he said'.... 'Yes' interrupted  the Governor, a thin smile on his lips and his eyes still fixed unblinking on the figure before him. 'He said......he said you want him to attack us so, and this will really crack you up sir, so you will be justified in going to war with the Clans!. Garrat broke out in a nervous laugh, it took half a moment before he realized the Governor was not joining in, in fact he was sat bolt upright fixing Garrat with his cold stare. After an eternity Paral calmly stated 'I am'. Garrats face was the perfect picture of shock and surprise, 'but sir, that would be in direct opposition to the policies put in place to control guild actions overseas, a war may only be sanctioned by a high Governor in times of dire threat, you cant start one sir, you cant!!'. Paral rose from his seat and walked slowly towards the Scribe. 'Who do you think sanctioned this trip scribe?, are you so slow you dont realize the nature of our mission?'. 'www..wwelll ssir'. started Garrat cowering slightly as Paral strode towards him. 'We are hardly here to mine this scrap of land Garrat' continued Paral, 'This trip is to take the area in the north of Lamavic, create a gateway into this god forsaken wilderness for our further expansion but to do this we need to, how would you understand this, clear the land. We need to be seen to adhere to policy and as you know we cant very well stroll up and start a war, we require some provocation. Thats where the offer came in, to goad the savages by insulting them. However it seems they are brighter than i gave them credit for, we will need to step up our activities.' The governor was standing before Garrat, towering over him. 'Now im sure you understand this information is on a strictly need to know basis'. Said Paral, smiling at Garrat. Garrat relaxed a little. 'Which is why...' continued Paral as he thrust his hand towards the scribes belly, berrying his hidden dagger up to its hilt, Garrat gave a faint 'hurmph' as Paral placed his hand over the scribes mouth and bored his gaze into Garrats.....' you cannot be allowed to know'. The lifeless scribe slumped to the ground. Paral clapped his hands together and two guards strode into the room silently and removed his body. 'CAPTAIN ALLAC', shouted the Governor, 'ENTER'. A tall, thick set, dark haired man entered the tent, his glistening steel armor shining in the candle light. 'Yes sir' he said smartly, removing his helm and bowing before his seniors gaze. 'It seems we need to give our enemy further encouragement. Take a force with you to the area known as the Barracdoons, there you will find a pile of earth known as the cairns of clan Mallarac by the locals. I want you to ensure it is not there come sunset. Take some of the local troops to show you the way and take that mage too, he gives me the willies'. 'The one with the entrails wound through his hair and the blood on his face Sir, keeps swearing and kicking children sir?' enquired the captain.  'Yes Allac, mad fannah i believe he is called, claims to use magic. If nothing else the locals will follow him and if we are very lucky we can get him killed, might stir them up a bit'. 'As you say sir'. replied the captain smartly. He bowed again and turned to go. 'Captain' called Paral as he was leaving,  'i am sure you understand how sensitive this mission is, i would hate for anything to go wrong, heads would be sure to roll'. Allac paused for a moment in the doorway. 'As you say Sir' was all he said as he departed.

  I decided i fancied a game of Dragon Rampant for this one as i plan for this to be the start of a small campaign with a far bigger battle to follow!.  This battle is set in the borders between north east Lamavic (the home lands of Clan Mallaric) and the Frostfangs in the area known as the Barracdoons, within which is the Cairn of Clan Mallaric, the resting place of the hero's  and great leaders of the Clan. The land is almost holy to the Clansmen and those within are the subject of many Sagas. Its fair to say that messing with such an area is unwise to say the least!. The Cairn is a massive burial mound that gets bigger with each hero that rests there. It is marked with flags and patrolled by the clansmen that live by it. No foes have ever attacked the Cairns since they were defiled by the exiled Bondsman known as Callar and his dark mage accomplice known simply as mad fannah, two individuals that lead a failed rebellion against the Clan leaders, the result of which was their exile to a small settlement in the Frostfangs where Callar and his followers now lick their wounds and plan their next move .....the very bhoys the High Governor of the Mining Guild  has contacted to help his guilds forces land unnoticed in the Frostfangs in fact.....
 The battle begins when the clan troops under the control of Captain Allac guided by some of Callars men led by Mad Fannah no less advance on the Cairn, however the local Clansmen are only too aware of their intentions and are moving to stop them....

The Cairn of Clan Mallaric.

 The objective of the game is to be the only force with unbattered troops within 5ins of the flags on the Cairn at the end of turn 5 (sundown). The side that manages this will be the winner.

The guild forces

(left-right) 2x Pike squads, 1 lead by Captain Allac (heavy foot), 1x Musketeers (heavy missiles)
                                                      (minis by Red box and Revell)

Mad Fannahs Frostfang exiles (allies and guides to the guild forces)
(From the back) 1x Scouts, 1x Rebel Clansmen (light offensive foot), Mad Fannah (wizardling with almighty prod, stronger sheilds and heal thee, light foot).
                                             (minis by Red Box, Revell and Hat)

Opposed by:
                         THE CLAN CAIRN PROTECTION COMPANY

(back row) 1x Huntsmen (scouts), 1x  Clan crossbows (light missiles) 
(middle) 2x Clansmen (Bellicose foot, Hatred)
(front) 1x Hunting Hounds (lesser warbeasts), 1x Clan Horse led by Laird Barrack (local Bondsman to Laird Aralin) (Heavy Horse, Hatred).
                                               (minis by Red Box, Revell, Strelets and Hat)

Note: I made the Clansmen Bellicose foot to represent the fact that they were some what put out by the attack on the Cairn, i also gave them Hatred for the same reason!.

As always i have used my colored bases. Guild forces are on Red with Yellow trim, The Rebels are on White with Blue trim and the Lamavic forces are on Blue with Black trim.

The field, before the battle. (the Cairn is to the left)


The Guild right, Rebels on the flank, Muskets protecting the ford.

The left, Scouts in the trees,  pikes and a mentalist together and more pikes over the ridge.

On the Lamavic side the crossbows get ready to assault the cairn flanked by the frothing Clansmen units.

The Hunting hounds, Clan Horse and Huntsmen get ready to wipe out the Guild flank!


The Rebels advance, the hounds have the same idea!.
The Pike on the flank move out to meet the Clansmen barreling towards them!. by the rocks.

The opening turns saw both forces advancing piecemeal towards each other taking pot shots. On the right....

On the Cairn the Lamavic troops crested the ridge before the enemy troops got organized enough to stop them (the musketeers fluffed two activations in a row!. They put it down to frozen shot and union cold weather guidelines...'sorry mate, what can i do?, union rules innit, too cold to load, ave ta wait till spring mate!....').

1 ridge, crested.
On the edge of the Cairn the Pike and rabid Clansmen met in a storm of Pikes and strong language, the pikes were forced to retreat and would remain battered for the rest of the battle!

Faced with a hill covered with mad Clansmen Captain Allac ordered his men to form a wall of pikes!, these were boosted by Mad Fannahs magic (stronger shields!).

Before they could get their act together and , you know, shoot or anything the Clan Horse stomped into the muskets, sending them to look for other employment that would make the best use of sword wounds and spear holes!. 

On the Cairn the Clansmen were too wound up to be bothered by anything like a defensive position and flung themselves into the pikes, getting pushed back up the hill for their troubles!.
Sensing victory The pikes broke formation and charged up the hill, forcing the Clansmen back further. The huntsmen responded by showering the pikemen with spears, forcing them to retreat and fail a battered test!.

While all this was kicking off Mad Fannah cursed the other unit of pike cowering in the face of the pee'd off clansmen. Bellowing something about 'Soft southern jessies and shite faced Clan bastards' he charged head long into the Clansmen!!

Killing 2 and chasing them off!!!!

'Och and stay outta it ya gurly swine!!!'.

With the Clans on top of the Cairn and the Guild forces with nothing able to move close enough to contest it dusk fell (along with the temperature!) and Captain Allac ordered the retreat. 

Final positions at the end of the game from the Lamavic table edge.

The Cairn may be safe for now but the war is far from over........

Well that was fun to play, the combo of wild charges and hatred on the Lamavic side meant they would charge automatically each turn they could see the enemy and were close enough!. This made for a very fun 'fluffy' game where a charge in the wrong conditions ( read: wall of pikes!!) almost spelled disaster for the charging side!. Proof that powerful upgrades are not always the blessing they appear to be!. The question is, where to go with this from here?, will the Clan forces seek revenge for this cowardly attack on their 'holy' ground in the face of common sense?, Will they hole up and make the Guilds come to them?, Will the Guild forces perform more gorilla attacks to goad the Clans into action or will this be enough to convince the them to make an all out attack to force the issue?. What do you think?, comments below and i promise most popular idea will shape the direction this campaign goes in!.

Very much looking forward to your comments (keep them clean...who am i kidding, don't bother!!)...anyhow...till next time you lovely peeps........

Saturday, 23 September 2017

Mentally Terraformish: When in Lamavic (prologue)

Garrat pushed his way through the throng, his four bodyguards flanking him. The air stank of smoke, sweat and mead and was so hot and heavy he struggled to breath. Low mournful singing filled  the room, the crowds of clansmen, the women and the children all stood transfixed. Some had their eyes closed and he noted a few of the grizzled folk were weeping.  The doorkeeper pressed ahead, gesturing for them to follow. Garrats party struggled to keep up as the doorkeeper made his way to the center of the room. Not one of the men looked at the party walking among them, the song seemed to weave its way around the room. Garrat shook his head, savages, no wonder they had no future, still held by the ghosts of the past, ghosts of their own making. A moment later the Doorkeeper turned and whispered to Garrat and his men to stop. They were in the center of the room, a large stone firepit stood, wood blazing away, its heat engulfing the space around it. Along side it stood a high backed stone chair, seated on which was an enormous bearded old man, in his furs he looked like a cross between a bear and a man. His face was set like carved rock, concentration etched on his face, his head moving slowly to the music winding around the throne. Next to this was a group of eight wizened old men standing in a line singing. Each looked to be older than any man Garrat had ever encountered. Each wore rough faded black woolen robes. The men were in the grip of the song, tears rolled down their wrinkled cheeks as they sang.  Garrat and his men stopped at the foot of the throne. He stepped forward a pace further than his guards.....pulled a large scroll from his belt and slowly unrolled it.....took a last glance at the press of silent bodies surrounding him.......and loudly cleared his throat....

,........It must have only taken a few moments for order to be restored, but to the cowering Garrat it seemed like a lifetime. The large man rising from his throne bellowed threats to the men in his charge, cutting through the shouts and curses raining down along with the fists and debris on Garrats guards who had gathered around the scribe to shield him from the angry mass. One of the old singers had spat at Garrats boots and another had showered him in dregs from his drinking horn. For a moment the throng had stood confused, not sure what to do but one more shout of ' AH SAYS BLOODY WELL LEAVE IT BHOYS!!!!!!' from the throne made them step back. Garrats guardsmen sheathed their blades but kept their hands on the hilts. They fanned out a step facing away from the throne but towards the mass of men in the room. The man bear sat back on his throne and sighed. He seemed to gather his thoughts for a second before leaning forward and fixing Garrat with his steely gaze. 'Wat the fuc do youz lot think youz doin eh?, youz jus waltzed inte our hall, THE FUCCIN HEART OF CLAN MALARRAC', he threw his arms wide and looked around the room to great cheers from the rest of the men within. 'Do youz know what youz just intefuccinrupted?' he continued. 'Youz just intefuccinrupted the lament of breccan field, where we lost two hundred proud bhoys to the SCUM of Verland'. 'Somma the folks youz sees here lost relatives there, they remember, an they dont needs youz bunch a whet shites intafuccinruptin it!, so scuse us if we dont welome youz to ar hall but considerin youz seem to want to pisch on the memory of our deed clan brothers youz betta get on with whateva youz caim for and get oot while youz still on ma good side ya ken?'. The big man sat back and folded his arms. Shaking, Garrat stepped forward gripping his scroll in front of his chest like the worlds most ineffective shield. 'oh mmm mm mighty Lord Aaa Aaralin ll ll llleader of ccllann Mmmallarric' he stammered, his nerves turning his knees ( and bowels) to jelly. He took a deep breath to compose himself. 'My name is Garrat and i am head scribe to Govenor Paral, Leader of the mining expedition ordered by high Govenor Fantilan of the Mining guild into the Northern Frostfangs and your lands of North west Lamavic. I have been sent to deliver my masters glad tidings to you and your Clansmen and to invite you to take advantage of a fantastic offer'. Clan lord Aralin stood up with a face like thunder 'WHUT FUCCIN' MINING EXPEDITION IN MAH LANDS?!'.
'wwell' started Garrat as Lord Aralin stepped towards him and swiped the scroll from his hands 'Ah think ah could do wi' readin' this mysel'. Garrat stood around looking at his feet and giving the occasional smile to anyone that met his glance. Lord Aralin turned his back to the scribe and read, mumbling to himself as he did.........
........A blow sent Garrat to his knees before Lord Aralin, Clansmen pressing in on all side baring any hope of escape. beside him the bodies of his guards were piled. The jeers of the Clansmen filled his head as the Lord closed in waving the ripped scroll in his huge fist. 'The fuccin nerve o' the man, mining mah lands wi no word ta us an offerin us half what he gets..HALF OF WHAT WE ALREADY BLOODY OWNS!!!'. 'Its not as it seems' tried Garrat wiping blood from his lip more in hope than anything else. 'The govenor has a permit approved by the high govenor himself and the mariners guild and the guild of money lenders have helped fund it. Lord Callar of the frost fangs has already agreed and signed'. 'Callar!' spat Aralin 'that bastard would sign anythin to get at us lot afta his exile, i shoula finished him last time'. 'Look' said Garrat 'The fleet has landed, there in the Frostfangs just over the ice ridge as we speak, The mining is going ahead as planned with or without your consent, why not make it easy on your clan and make some gold in the process?'. Lord Aralin stepped forward and slapped the scribe with the back of his hand. 'Listen ta me ya dumb pup, yous an yous guild are havin none o' our land. Tell Paral Clan Malarac are no stupid enough ta fall for his shite'. 'No, no you dont understand its...' attempted Garrat before he was cut off again. 'No its yous that no understands, you cant see what hes doin' can ye?.Paral wants me an' the bhoys to go chargin afta him so he can report back thats wes attackin him an call for reinforcements, next thing ya knows we got all a the guilds invadin' an the clans are at war. That way he can get the numbers te try te take our land by force. Yous tell him ah says he can chew on mah shite before he gets his war but if any ah yous guild arsewipes sets foot in mah lands they fuckkin die. If he wants a war he can have the good grace to start it himsel. As for yous ya cluless shite, ah can see he picked yous caus ye cant see yer bein used by that shite ta get things started, yous going back ta him ta tell him what happened tonight, i would kill yous but thats what he wants so run, run back before i change mah mind, go on git'. Aralin grabbed the scribe by the scruff and lifted him off the floor, carried him ten paces to the door and flung him into the snow. As soon as Garrat hit the hard ground he was up and running. 'AN TELL CALLAR THAT IF AH SEES HIS UGLY FACE A'LL CUT IT OFFA HIS FAT HEED' shouted Aralin into the darkness over the laughter of the clansmen. He turned to face his men. 'Righto lads, whos for a bloody drink...'

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Ooooh, get me!

Just a very quick post to let you lovely peeps know that i have had a brainwave (it happens, not often but it happens!) and have gathered all the Mentally terraforming background material in one place to make it easier for folks to read it. If you check the top of the blog page you will see the tabs you can use to switch pages to the grouped material. As i add more posts to the project i will also place the new bumph in the new page with the rest. Also i have decided to go a bit page mad and give Blood, Guts and Severed Heads (my very simple intro wargaming rules) their own page to make sure people that want to use them (the poor, poor fools!) dont have to dig through my babble to do so!.

Being aware i have just wasted peoples time with this non entity of a post i 'll leave you with a smile....

Oh, while your here, have you met The Witch Queen?.

......Till next time.....

Sunday, 17 September 2017

Merely a flesh wound....

Hello, just a quick post on the subject of wound markers. For ages i have been using dice to keep track of wounds/hits in games but playing with the kids has convinced me this may not be the best way (the amount of times the wound dice is picked up and rolled...!). So i have been searching for an alternative. I have looked at a number of cheap solutions to the problem (coloured dice, counters, card blood splatters among others) when i found what i think is the perfect solution!.

They are small skull beads i found on the bottomless black hole of time manors and money that is ebay for a very reasonable cost (you can find them here). At just 4p each they are they are a very cheap option and at 10x8mm i think they are the right size to stand out on the table without taking away from the spectacle of a game in progress. And they're so cute and cheeky looking!!.... 

How can you not love that (blurry) little face?

 I bought 150 of them, taking advantage of the 3 for 2 offer and after Mrs Sprinks laid claim to 50 of the buggers (soon to be a necklace im told, pulp cannibal chic must be the thing this season) i am left with 100 which will be plenty for any rule system. 
'Right, who was that?. No one leaves until i find out who twatted me!...'

Anyway, just thought i would share as im chuffed with these and they are recommended if you are looking for your own hit markers (recommended by a nob but well....)........till next time....

Friday, 15 September 2017

Mentally Terraforming: Bloods thicker than mead

Hello again all, its been a little while since i touched on the home brew setting i am (very slowly) building, but have no fear, its not been forgotten, its time to crack on with the next nation!. The previous posts in this group of...well..posts can be found here, but as ever it will show the most recent first so you are advised to read them from the bottom up!.
As with the rest of these posts i have written it for a few reasons. First it is to document the setting i am building and collecting towards. It will also be the setting for a lot of the games i play so it will give some context to what im posting here on Wronghammer!. Also it is hopefully a way to show that anyone can create their own setting and to encourage anyone that wants to do so to have a crack at it!. As always if you want to use any of the material in this post or adapt any part of it for your own games feel free!.


A Lamavic force prepares to meet the foe!

The nation of Lamavic is situated on the northern border of Verland, to the west are the lawless Frostfangs, to the north is the vast and endless Iceblade ocean and to the west are the disputed border with Tradjev and the Walled city state of Immere. 

The dodgy map is back!!

The land is cold, its winters can last between 6 and 9 months depending on how far north you are, the snows are on the peeks all year round and even summer temperatures stay in single figures!. The land is hard and rugged but it is not unfruitful, the people of Lamavic have long ago worked out many ways to hunt, farm, fish and generally live off the foreboding terrain.
 The people of Lamavic were almost made for the cold hard land they populate. They are hard, unforgiving, rugged men, trusting strength and practical thinking. They are not a nation concerned with the artistic or ornamental, anything without a practical use is seen as a waste of time and materials. Having said that many great artisans are from Lamavic and although they do not bother to decorate their work they long ago perfected the art of making things to last, often objects are kept in a family for generations before needing to be replaced. The people of Lamavic trade in these goods with other nations and all around the world it is said that goods from lamavic 'look like shite but last forever'!.
 Lamavic society is based around a number of Clans. Each Clan is made up of a number of families and all can trace their roots back to the first settlers in the lands. The Clans range from the huge ruling Clans that can make up up to ten percent of the total population to smaller Clans of just a few hundred. What all Clans have in common is the pride the members take in their Name and history. Each Clansman is bought up to be knitted into the fabric of the Clan, they eat, sleep and breath this identity and are a clansman first, citizen of Lamavic second. The clans tend to have areas of control where their will be a principle clan (the most numerous) that rule the area along with their blood clans that live along side them. Blood clans are so named due to the 'blood bond' between the two clans, either as a result of marraige, honer or debt and once so bonded the Clans will live and die to protect the other. Each area will have a Clan leader presiding over it from the main clan as well as his bondsmen that work to ensure his will is done and in large areas to oversee the boarders. Bondsmen are chosen by the Clan Leader for their honer, courage and skill at arms and form a kind of knightly force to protect the honer of the Clan. The name Bondsmen comes from the ritual all must undertake before the clan where they 'bond' themselves to the clan leader by way of a pledge to serve and follow him. Where more than one Clan are in the area it is customary for the Clan leader to name members of the blood clans to be bondsmen as well as those from their own. When a Clan leader dies the new leader is chosen from among his serving bondsmen of his own clan.
Pikemen stand ready

 Each Clan bears the word mal (meaning herth) as the first part of its name. This is common to all clans. The largest clans include clan Malrain(, clan malherric, clan malferr and clan Malderrain, each of these clans control many areas and are the leading clan in a large proportion of those areas. Most of the minor clans claim to be linked to at least one of those clans. Lamavic survives very well with this rough leadership model and has not had a king since the age of strife. If any internal conflicts occur the threat of the major clans is normally enough to quickly bring it to an end. 
Clan Life revolves around three things:
 Work (including building settlements, farming, hunting and working a trade). All members of the clan are duty bound to 'pitch in' to the work around the settlement as well as working in the family trade.
Drinking: Mead is a major part of life. Each settlement regardless of its size will be built with a mead hall in its center. This is a meeting place, the seat of the clan leader, a feast hall (a feast is held each evening so all members of the settlement always eat together) and the settlements seat of learning where the clan elders pass down the clans history to the young. The mead hall is the only place clan members are allowed to drink and is often full of shouts and song long into the night. The men of Lamavic take drinking very seriously and pride themselves in their ability to pack it away! (when abroad the men of the clans can bring publicans out in cold sweats just by walking through the door!).

Honer: In Lamavic honer is the principle currency by which a man is judged. There are three areas honer is judged and a slight on either may never go unpunished!. The areas are Personal honer (the honer of the individual and how trusted he is among his fellow Clansmen), Family honer (the honer of the clansmens close family and the bloodline he is connected to, important because a debt of honer or slight may be attributed to a whole bloodline!) and Clan honer (how the Clan and its actions are judged by other Clans). Any man that feels he has been slighted may challenge an action or word of any other that he believes has slighted his honer in any way. These are settled by the clan leader or by a feat of arms via a duel. Often the mead hall is filled with the claims of honer dashed and the threats of the Families involved!.
Clan history is a key part of clan honer. A clans history is preserved in the same way by all clans, through the singing of Sagas and Laments. These are very old songs shared by the generations telling of deeds and wrongs done to/by the clan. They are known by heart by every clan member. The singing is mostly done in the cold nights in the mead halls after the feasting is done and is a highlight of the evening. The singing is led by the Clan elders whos job it is to keep the songs and to pass them on to the next generation. Sagas are songs of the clans achievements, often in battle and of the great heros of the clans history. They are sung with great vigor, pride and celebration, often being repeated until the singing collapses in drunken cheers!. Laments are the stories of dis-honer and defeat, somber songs sung in hushed tones reminding the clan of wrongs yet to right and debts yet to be paid. These are normally sung just by the elders to the silence of the room, interrupting a lament in a room full of drunken clansmen is most unwise indeed!. Sagas and laments often form the battle cries of Lamavic forces before battle, many foes have reported the clansmen singing at the top of their lungs as they charge!. 
Most of the Sagas and Laments are held by one clan, however their are two that join the whole nation: The songs of strife.
The songs are made up of one Saga and one Lament detailing Lamavics part in the period known as the time of strife hundreds of years ago, a time when dark forces threatened to engulf the world. The lament of strife is over an hour long when sung and tells of the nations king being corrupted by darkness and his directing of the Clans into the nations darkest days of dis-honer fighting for the forces of the shadow against the followers of the powers of creation. It covers all of the deeds of the armies of Lamavic as they rampaged south, bathed in the blood of their foes to bring about the damnation of the world. The saga of strife covers the un-named hero (who each clan claims was a member of their own) who was visited by the powers of creation and turned to the path of redemption. He led the forces of his clan against the king and his loyal clans and slew him in personal combat. As the old king died the hold of the powers of darkness on the clans was broken and they saw the dis-honer they had brought upon themselves. The kings clan was exiled and the men of the north charged against the forces of darkness in the final battle of Mornmire, tipping the scales and winning the day. 
The singing of these songs penetrate deep into the core of all clansmen. They live each day knowing the dis-honer of the nation in ages past as well as the redemptive power of the powers of creation by which they turned from that dis-honer. As a nation that dis-honer still bites deep.

Huntsmen protect a cannon

The need to right these wrongs stir the soul of all Clansmen but some go much further. Throughout the Clans are the bezerker cults lead by the individuals known as the Bezerker Priests. These men seek the righting of these wrongs by following the priests into battle against the forces of the shadow wherever they are perceived to be. They are willing to loose their lives so that their blood may help bring honer to the nation. Bezerkers put aside their clan when they decide to follow the path of the bezerker and lay aside all belongings and former honer.They drink no meed and sleep under no roof. They travel the length of the land seeking ways to weaken the shadows hold on the world. They are seen as an odd bunch by the clans (they dont DRINK!!!) but the debt of the age of strife needs to be repaid so they are accepted on the most part. Stories of the wild northmen are well known around the world and they are feared by all but the bravest (or stupidest) enemy. Often the bezerkers are the difference between defeat and victory in a hard fought battle. 


The bulk of lamavic armies are made up of clansmen. All clansmen are expected to take up arms in defense of the clans honer and often a clansmen that exceeds himself in battle honers himself, his blood line and his clan!. They are well trained fighters, armed with weapons and armor that are often family heirlooms, handed down through the generations with stories of victories carved into their blades. The main battlefield rolls are:
Most clansmen are trained to fight in this way, the sheildwall is seen as outdated by most modern nations but in the hands of the Clans it is deadly. The wall is by no means a defensive formation (although it can be) but is used to break through the enemy line.

The clan forces have only just begun to adopt the pike after brushes with enemy pike formations. The lamavic clans can take a while to change but have begun to use these weapons in small numbers.

Crossbow men support the sheildwall from the ridge.
Lamavic has yet to trust the black powder weapons of the south seeing them as 'loud, smelly and as reliable as a Verlander in a drinking contest!'. They refuse to change from their favored crossbows they have used for years.

Horsemen prepare to sally out to sweep away the enemy.

Clan horse is a mainstay of the clan forces. They are used to harass the enemy and chase off missile troops that would threaten the sheildwall among other tasks. They are used as light horse most of the time but that wont stop them charging any enemy that get too close!.

As well as the clansmen the Bondsmen are duty bound to fight for their Clan leader and are the cream of the lamavic forces. Each takes to the field in full plate, suits of which are made from pieces handed down through the generations from Bondsman to bondsman and as such are relics of the clan, an awe inspiring reminder of glories won and Sagas to be sung!. These suits, like all things produced in lamavic are not adorned with plumes and crests, just hard wearing and functional. Bondsmen take to the field on horseback where they can but are happy to fight on foot with the rest of the clan.

On horse back or foot Bondsmen are the big hitters of a Lamavic force.

Where lighter troops are required teams of huntsmen are called upon. These rugged men can survive in the toughest conditions, tracking prey for long distances in harsh terrain. They use teams of hounds to track and bring down smaller animals. In battle they range ahead as scouts or work with the main line as light troops.

Huntsmen and their hounds move quietly through the copse.

The most feared troops in the lamavic forces are the Bezerkers lead by their Priests. They will often appear on the eve of battle to aid their comrades in expunging the dis-honer of the past. These grim fighters take to the field singing the Lament of Strife at the top of their lungs banging their shields and hollering and screaming in anguish and rage, all sense of their own well being long forgotten!.

A bezerker priest leads his followers into battle!. 

Despite their loathing of the handguns and muskets of the southern nations the clans are impressed by the destructive power of the many cannon used in modern warfare. They will loot cannon from beaten foes, often these are older models maintained by the clans.

A looted cannon ready to fire!.

The northern heartlands used to be home to huge tribes of mammoths. These creatures were at first hunted by the early settlers but soon they realized the benefits of capturing and raising their own as beasts of burden and war. Clans seem to enjoy showing off the size of their mammoths and boasting of their breeding methods. In war trained mammoths are used to trample the enemy dumb enough to stand in their way!.

Pee wee doing his day job!.

Native to the Frotfangs the eggs of the Greater snow eagle are much sort after by rich nobles including Clan leaders, They are trained to take a rider and used to transport messengers across the long distances between some settlements. In battle they are given to trusted bondsmen to give support to the ground troops.

Air support, lamavic style!.

Well thats about it, you got through the wall of text so well done you!. You owe yourself a nice cold  pint of whatever you fancy ( i would say my round but im not there so...well you know....its the thought that counts n' all that!).....Anyway, till next time.......