New background, but old, but also new...sort of....

   As i may have mentioned in my last few posts i am redoing my aborted 'not the 30 years war' steampunk pike and shot campaign from last year: 

So i thought it would be good to collect some of the background material i bodged together from various finds from the period to kind of relaunch the whole thing. So this post is basically an introduction to the land of Olde Albilande and a very basic overview of the situation as it stands at the point we join the war. Each of these pieces of (not really) history has been taken from the source material of the time, the original source has been validated by various non-historical authorities as genuine. Other included pieces are taken directly from works produced about the period by mock historians, experts in this field.

The first piece is taken from th Olde Albilande tourist board leaflet: 'How to best avoid a stabbing or other forms of painful death in Albilande', first produced in 1643. This surviving copy donated kindly by Geoff Cribbadge, son of the noted mock-historian sir Norman Cribbadge jnr.

             YE OLDE ALBILANDE; A VISITORS GUIDE             

  A warm welcome traveler to the wonders of Olde Albilande, where dreams really do come true*.
be it the beautiful landscape

or are friendly locals

or the local cuisine

 The purpose of this leaflet is to help familiarize you, the visitor with the places to visit and activities available to you during your stay across the highways and of course byways of this (not very) green and sometimes even pleasant land.

  First some history. Olde Albilande was established by a combination of Francenlande, Douchmarken and Russavacian invaders who all landed on these 'lush' shores over four hundred years ago. At first they were content to kick the living poo out of each other and the indigenous savages they found here (you may know those savages today as Lamavicians, who the invaders chased off to their own belt of isles to the north of Olde Albilande, where they remain to this day being as smelly and unrefined as ever). The invaders each claimed sections of the land for their own and for a while an uneasy peace held sway. Of course as we all know each of the groups of invaders abandoned the land out of sheer boredom, leaving behind a few of the stubborn, sick or lack-witted  from each party that missed the boats as the settlers returned from whence they came. These people form the ancestors of the population of Albilande today.

  But enough of the past, what wonders are here for you today?.

'artists' impression

  As you may be aware the land is divided  into four counties, each as different from each other as chalk and dairy waste products. Lets take a closer look at each:

ROYAL CRIVENSHIRE

Located in the south is Royal Crivenshire, so called because it is the seat of the royal family of Albilande. The residence of the king being Crivens Castle in Royal Cravenly. The shire is noted for its fantastically windy coastline and vibrant trading towns such as the always busy Spillage and the slightly lop sided Gibblet, these walled river towns are home to many refined folks due to the traders guild making their home in each settlement to take advantage of the fine transport links and easy commute to the capital. If its shopping and commerce you want, Royal Crivenshire is the destination for you!

RUCKINGHAMMESHIRE

With the coast to the west the western most shire is the home to fine sunshine (up to 14 days a year) and the busy port towns of The Fences (the seat of the Earl of Offenhammeshire) and Allen-on-quey which are thriving hubs of trade and high fashion. It is said that the finery of the rich of these towns puts even the royal court to shame. This county is well known for its imported goods, it is said you can buy almost anything there if you don't ask too many questions!. The shire is home to some of the most ruthless criminal gangs in the history of the world, each not only partaking in vicious turf wars (each thursday at 3, tickets available at most 'reputable' ale houses across the shire) but also offering authentic tours of their safe houses to tourists and of course 'travel insurance' that will be a must have to all who traverse the shire.

TUTTINGHAMMESHIRE

If its more rugged scenery your after you could do worse than a trip to Tuttinghammeshire. Split east and west by the Crippled Jaw mountains and home to the dark pine forests of the northern peat bogs this is a haven for wildlife (most of which may attempt to kill and devour you). The people of Tuttinghammeshire mirror the terrain but are friendly in their own way. The land is home to many walled city states that due to the lay of the land function with a large degree of autonomy. Cities like Obbleholmme (the Earls seat) and Oopidge supply the quaint northern settlements surrounding them. Also of note is the hill town Phuckenmere, where the famous Whatsinitt sausage co make the countries best selling snacks and the village of Stubbin, where the famous coopers of Stubbin will allow you to observe them plying their age old trade, all while being told to 'piss of out of it' in their characterful northern tounge.

BURKSHIRE

The gateway to the east, Burkshire, also known as 'the wet shire,' has had rain for a record 122,000000 consecutive days!. Legend has it that it was cursed by a witch who was sick of locals making fun of her impressive wart collection. Today it is known for being the countries largest producer and exporter of quality mud and of course is home to the famous Drizzlemere cabbage, produced only in the hamlet of the same name. It is also quite famous for its region of the Middenlands, also known as 'the arse of Albilande', where the 'waste collection' barons of  Albilande deposit their stock (known locally as 'brown gold'). Tourists are greatly encouraged to visit** this beautiful area before the new fangled 'plumbing' craze destroys this wonder for good. 

Those of you that want to get back to nature may wish to visit the vast and mysterious Phlippinooge forest that runs through the center of Albilande. Its home to fine camp sites and hidden rivers and some of the most stunning scenery the land has to offer.It also provides many important roads linking the shires. It is worth noting that you will need a permit to travel and stay within the forest boundaries that can be obtained from the closest nymph office, failing to do so may lead to being squashed to death very slowly by angry Dryads.

  So that's just a small selection of what this fantastic land has to offer (we have not touched on the famous pie makers of Offal or the steel smiths of Ikky for example). All of us at the Olde Albilande tourist board wish you a fine stay free from cutpurses, bandits and mobs of ruffians......er.......ignore that last sentence.

* if you happen to be rich or of noble birth.

** Tours run each monday and tuesday, four free nose pegs with each family ticket.

***

Below is one of the only surviving transcripts of the regular daily news caste 'Today's happenings today', It was unearthed in the collection of keen hoarder and petty criminal Keith 'fingers' Flaniggish of Uxbridge. My thanks to Mr Flaniggish for allowing me to reprint it in its original condition here.

And here's your host;

Lead anchor Barron Stemphage Ramsholme

co anchor Miss Cravenlly Cabbes

Roving reporter Tweek Mincelley (Dropsey free since a week last smudgeday)

                                        And not forgetting Spludgeerton Fitch with the sport!

Heres whats happening where you are........TODAY!.

'Hello, my names Barron S Ramsholme, and this is what happened upon this day.
It has been confirmed that the entire royal line were indeed murdered!, the death of the entire line of succession upon the traditional feast of StCackendale has been confirmed by the sheriff of Crivenshire to have been caused by a poisoned pudding!!, heres Miss Cravenlly Cabbes with the details, Miss Cabbes'.

  'Ooooo fank oo Barron R, it as been confermed by royal tasters 'at a poisoned Damson Duff were all to blame for fha nasty deafs. It were found to be laced wiv a 'eavy dose of a substance called 'fha yawnin' deaf' also called 'fha watermaker' which targets fha tummy and arse. It turns out fhem royals actually pooed emselves to deaf!. Fha hunt for all them what were 'sponsable as begun in earnest but fha sheriffs men ave so far......got nuffin to go on!!!!'.

  'Thank you Miss Cravenlly, gives a whole new definition to 'throne room'. So with no successor what happens now?, we sent Tweek Mincelley to find out, we are now going over live to Crivins Castle where the aforementioned is waiting with a special report. Mr Mincelley can you here me?'.

 'Yes Barron i can hear you loud and clear, as i stand here upwind among the many vegetable tributes of half chewed turnips and potatoes and the odd dead rat left in touching wastefulness here at the main gates of Crivins Castle it appears the royal record keepers have been toiling night and day to work out what should occur to resolve this unprecedented issue. Never before has there been a dearth of royalty. No successor means no King which of course means no successor!. Its anarchy Barron, pure flippin madness!!. However i can now conform that the head legislator has found an ancient law for such an occurrence!, its known a..'
'Can you tell us what this law is called Tweek?'.
'Yes, yes Barron i can indeed conform it is known as Wazzcocks law and it dates back to the first kings, it states that, and im quoting here, er, 'Do notte be allarmmede if upone ye deathe of yonder monarch no sucessor shalle to be founde, calle forthe ye earls to determine as one manne the next ammonge theme to rule'. So it appears th'
'It seems the law is stating that the existing earls shall decide which of them will be the new king'.
...'quite right Barron, it shall be the earls th'
'The earls will be the deciders of the crown, thank you Tweek'.
'Tweek Mincelley there, reporting from the capitol, nice to see him free of the pink eye aye Cravenlly?'.
'Cerainly is Barron, ees quite the looker under all that puss!'.

Also in the happenings today; Miss Cravenlly?.'

 'Fhank oo Barron. fha King of Douchmark is still surchin for fhat rebel rabble leader Lucas Bitchenmarken, oos writings on fha foodal system and fisical equalitee between fha rich and fha poor as gon an caused several violent peasant uprisins. It is beleived fha dissident fholosefa was spotted fleein on a skiff offa fha east coast an could be edding fhis way, the king of Douchmark as stated ee will 'kick fha ooly shit out a any nation fhat would ide such a melovolant turd as Bitchenmarken.'

                                               
                                       Bitchenmarken, an artists impression, keep them peeled folks.

  'Ee looks like a lovely batato. Also in fha occurrences its been almost two monfs since fha dissaperence of Lady Grace Ballant from Ballant Keep. Eer farva Lord Ballant as promised free undred gold marks for...'

..'IM SORRY I'LL HAVE TO CUT YOU OFF THERE MISS CRAVENLLY, WE ARE GOING BACK TO TWEEK WITH SOME BREAKING NEWS, TWEEK'
'Thank you Barron, yes exciting news indeed, i have been given a statement from the estate of Glinric Pallenbrooke, the 26th Earl of Crivenshire. it reads th..'

'Exciting indeed what does it say tweek?'
'...yes thank you Barron, it reads thus:
       'During this time of national mourning and sadness it is clear that we need strong leadership to ensure we keep moving forward in the selection process of the next king. No one misses the last king with his harsh but fair taxation laws and fondness for tourture more than myself but it is essential we move in the right direction. With this in mind i, Glinric Pallenbrooke, 26th Earl of Royal Crivenshire here by name myself king in the interim, to rule while a perminant monarch is to be found. my first act as king is to set a date for the election of the new king, which will be held five years today, the 27th of meatember, the year of our gods 1654'.
'This means that the earl of..'
'The earl of Crivenshire has named himself temporary king!, thank you tweek. Tweek Mincelley, live from the royal seat. Here's Spludgeerton Fitch with the sport. Spldgeerton'.

'A thank you Barron..errrm...its been an exciting day in the 157th annual..errrm....'kick the inflated badger corpse between two villages while people beat the hell out of each other cup'...eerm....So far Latherfordde in-unison lead Knottesridge neveracademicals 7 deaths to 4...errrm.....the badger has been burst and trampled underfoot during the first half...errm.....leading to some first rate pummeling by...errm....the Leatherfordde back 78, although  Knottesridge did have a late stabbing ruled out for offside by the etching assisted referee. It looks to be Leatherfordde's game with sundown fast approaching...errm...however the after game punch up between the teams...eerrm....will be worth sticking around for...errrm....'

'Thank you Spludgeerton. well thats the happenings for today, join us upon the morrow for more. Until then its a fond good bye from me, Barron Stemphage Ramsholmeme and the rest of the Crivenshire news team....goode night!'.

***

The following is quoted with kind permission directly from Dr Quentin Templeton-Smidglys' seminal study on the war of the four kings entitled 'A study into the war of 1654, what the f*$k was that about then?'. In chapter four of this learned tome Dr Templeton-Smidgly details the letters, notes and decrees, both official and unofficial recorded and recovered from records of the Estates of the Earls of the Shires. It gives a full and detailed view of the events that lead directly to the conflict that almost drove Olde Albilande to its knees.

CHAPTER 4: THE LION AND THE FERRET

 Following the decree under Wazcockes law given by Glinric Pallenbrooke, 26th Earl of Crivinshire on the 27th of Meatember edition of 'Todays happenings today', Crivenshires best (and only) topical community events telecast, the reaction was swift. A public declaration from Osewrenne Cobbenhamme, 19th Earl of  Tuttinghammeshire was issued that read as follows:

  'the young Earl of Crivenshire seems to have made an error of judgement. It is plain to all that you cannot simply declare yourself king, in the interim or otherwise. This err can be forgiven due to the large amount of stress we are all under at present and the grief we are all feeling. I am sure that the young man will come to his senses in no time and we can allow him to forget his childish notion. Besides, if we were to have a king in the interim it would need to be a man of knowledge and experience such as myself not some wet babe fresh off the tit.'

 The first to respond to this was Alben 'the gov'nr' Alfenshe, 23rd Earl of Ruckinghammeshire who sent this personal message to Cobbenhamme:

  'Your 'avin' a flippin' larf ant 'ya' granpa?, you, a fit king, do me a favour!. Gorden bennit we need a fella that at least is gonna make it to the election without kickin' the bleedin' bucket!.

 Its worth noting this letter was sent in a chamber pot, also containing a pair of fur lined slippers and a tartan blanket. To Pallenbrooke he sent:

  'Cor wot are you like?, you cant jus' go around namin' yourself king, you need plannin' and finkin'. For what its worth i reckon you would be a bettah bet than that old pissy britches up north but you got to start usin' your 'ed. By the way, you still on for this ship full a' Francenlande brandy?, yours for 'alf a chaffinch as were mates an all'.

  The response from Tuttunghammeshire to Ruckinghammeshire was fast:

  'Sod off you curr, if you ever send such letters to my estate again you will see that this old man still has arms enough to deal with the likes of you you grubby little spiv. Just remember i hung your Grandfather for the fence and racketeer he was and when that royal investigation into your taxes is finished i will personally see you suffer the same at my own two hands'.

The earl of Tuttinghammeshire also released a public statement as follows:

'I, Osewrenne Cobbenhamme, 19th Earl of  Tuttinghammeshire do decree that i name myself king for the period until such a time that a new king is elected in line with wazzcockes law. I feel as the most experienced and long serving Earl it is my duty before the gods to accept this task to ensure the country keeps on progressing during this difficult time.'

  Before sending his own answer to this aggressive act the Earl of Crivenshire sent a private note to
  Alben 'the gov'nr' Alfenshe which has just been unearthed which sheds some new light on the relationship between the two:

 'I trust after your last statement i can rely on your support in whatever actions may come?, it may transpire that a report of a financial nature may not be finished after all if your help can be assured. I would ask you to declare your support publicly if this is the case.  As far as the brandy goes please send a sample and then deal direct with my 'head scribe'. Mums the word'.

  He then issued a statement to the Earl of Tuttinghammeshire:

  'The statement given by the honorable Earl of Tuttinghammeshire is not accepted by Royal Crivenshire nor recognized by our allies. You are being given five days to retract the declaration and offer a recognition of the interim rulership of  king Glinric Pallenbrooke until such a time as a true king can be declared. If you fail to do so you will be named an enemy of the crown and such actions as deemed appropriate will be taken to remove you from your seat.

 While this exchange was happening the 25th Earl of Burkshire Ribbille Ribbensholme pitched in to the debate, sending an open letter to each earl.

  'During this time it seems to be a backwards step for us to be bickering among ourselves. This time should be used to govern together and join as one mind to further the fortune of every Albilander not just to furnish our own ambition. We can make a difference to each and every serf and smallholder, smith and cooper to make the people of this nation strong once more.

  and mum says if you all get to be king i should have a turn, your being really, really, rreeeaaallllyyyy unfair.

 This letter was roundly ignored by the other three earls. Before the Earl of Ruckinghammeshire could declare his alliance with Crivenshire he had time to send a private note to Cobbenhamme, thus:

  'Ere, mate, i know we ant on the best terms but i want you to know that i think you may be the right bloke to sit on the fancy chair while we decide on the next king. I may be makin' a statement soon but pay it no heed, no word of a lie if the lead starts flyin' it wont be Ruckinghammeshire that will be firin' 'em your way.

 Its not known if the last known letters sent before the outbreak of hostilities were sent before or after the Earl of Tuttinghammeshire took receipt of this note but he sent two last massives, one to his trusted general Sir Phillibridge Physs which read as follows:

' TAKE AS MANY MEN AS YOU NEED AND MARCH SOUTH, LET THE SOFT SOUTHERN FERRETS FEEL THE CLAWS OF A PROUD NORTHERN LION.'

 To Pallenbrooke he sent a two line note which simply stated:

 'to the false king of the south, i retract nothing.
 Prepare thyself'.

  Just two days after these notes Sir Physs crossed the border into Crivenshire with an army at his back sparking the first battle of a protracted campaign. The battle of Phlemm Valley, where the advanced guard of Physs' column were met by the combined patrols of sir Crowesfell and Sir Finnagree the clenched. A full study into the battle can be found in the next chapter: 'A Trial at Phlemm'.

 Well i'm sure you agree we owe a debt of thanks to Dr Templeton-Smidgly for allowing the inclusion of his most detailed works on these humble pages. I for one cant wait to find out what actually happened on that hallowed ground of the Valley of Phlemm.

***

The final snippit is taken from the book 'Technology and Warfare in 17th century Olde Albilande, what a F&*%in' mess' by Dr Webbingtonne Oldstone-Quelling. The seminal work has provided a great insight to all mock historians seeking to delve into the era and to understand what the flip was actually happening. The following was taken from the chapter 'Pikes vs Tanks, are you bloody mad??!!' and is reproduced without permission, the good Dr wants fifty quid, he can go bury his head in a choice and very dark orifice as far as i care!.

  '........it is widely believed that the horse and musket era followed the pike and shot era before the discovery of steam. In most places this was true and it is because of one invention: the bayonet. This simple blade attached to the barrel of the musket allowed each musketeer to be his own pikeman. This single fact allowed for massed ranks of men to fire and move at a far greater rate now the slow and heavy pike was not needed. Most people think this simple advance was simply missed as Albilande moved into its age of steam, this was not the case.

    On seventeen occasions the patent office of Olde Albilande had a patent request From the small scale weapons producer D. isembowler and sons regarding a small blade to be fixed under the barrel of a musket. Each time this request was ignored without reply. Why would this be?, The answer was clear, the head of the patent office, one Sir Rillington Pike, one of the four hiers to the Pike company of weaponsmiths to the King  had more than a vested interest in the continuation of the use of the weapon with which he shared his name, indeed his Farther and two uncles ran the company!. It is even reported the company performed an extremely hostile take over of  D. isembowler and sons (the sons were never herd from again) later in the year. Thus the madness of blocks of men holding long sticks facing off against the newly invented heavy tank (est The Pike Company) was made real. Its highly ironic in this writers mind that the major advances in steam technology brought about by the work of the genius Leonard Dubruinvinchi  not only in the area of industry but also in warfare with his rtanks was in direct opposition to the thinking of the industry he produced his designs for. Again Olde Albilande just beggers belief!.

***

........'till next time.......

New project alert!!!!

Having almost completed my self inflicted task of the last 5 months (see here for full stupid details!) i decided it was time to do something that actually required getting some minis, you know...... on the table!! (what with this being a gaming blog n' all!!). So having waited for an idea to whopp me around the head i am finally ready to embark on a narrative campaign!! (yay!). As i'm playing solo i will use the games played to further the narrative but have some plot points i fancy including. I will almost be writing a story rather than producing scenarios based on previous results. So without further ado i present part 1 of part 1 (part 2 of part 1 to follow!) of.............

(ooohhh, someones had a play with paint!!!)

EPISODE 1: HORROR AT HIGH TIDE!

  Sgt Hoff shifted in his saddle, his warhorse Trevor padded at the wet sand. Both could feel the tension in the air. The Wind whipped at his sir coat, ruffling it against his breastplate. Sand peppered the old warriors beard and mighty eyebrows and forced him to raise his calloused hand to shield his eyes. To either side his men stretched along the beach forming a wall of bow and spear...waiting for whatever dangers the tide would bring. Hoff glared into the darkness. He had ordered his men to put out their torches so the enemy could not see his men until they had landed, the moonlight being all but obscured by the heavy clouds that refused to clear. For now the sea was quiet but he knew it was only a matter of time......

  'Copper for 'em sir' came a familiar voice from beside him as a young man trotted up along side Hoff, breaking his train of thought. 'Ah Ginger' exclaimed Set Hoff, turning to regard the baby faced youth beside him, 'i trust the men are ready for the battle?'. 'Yes Sir' replied the lad smartly 'All braced and rearing to go'. 'Good to hear it Ginger, and you, are you ready?, these Northmen are a feisty lot when their bloods up'. 'Al' second that' Came a gruff voice from the other side of Hoff, both Hoff and Ginger turned in their saddles to see the giant form of Bear Maloy ride over to them. 'We used te pick ah teeth wi' scrawny streeks o' nothin like you laddie'.  'Bear, glad to have you along for this one i can tell you' offered Hoff in greeting, The large bearded form of Bear nodded his approval.

'I do have to say sir' Interrupted Ginger 'that i still think it would be better to ambush them as they come up the beach, hide in the brush and use the element of surprise and all'. 'No Ginger, the townsfolk are paying us to send a message not skulk around, need i remind you you are a member of the famous Fighting Cocks, not a common bushwacker!' Replied Sgt Hoff with a tone of finality in his voice. 'Ah know these Bastards betta than any a' ya' snorted bear, 'Trust me when i says these wankers need to be met heed on, theys only respect muscle, you go jumpin 'em they'll be back wi' there mates, tey'll no respect that. Youz gotta meet them face on and prove youz tougher then they are!'.  'In this instance as any i thank you for your counsel mr Maloy, besides it takes one to know one and all that' offered Hoff in reply, twisting his mustache as he spoke, 'we'd better be ready so lets all be clear, we let them ditch the boats and come up the beach, they wont see us until they are close, then we light the torches and tell them to do one and leave the town alone'. 'Jeez, thats nowt but pissin in the wind if youz askin' spat Bear. 'I know, i know' continued Hoff 'but the townsfolk are paying for protection so we need to make it clear what we are here for, besides we insisted on payment up front so we need to put on a show. no ones to engage until i give the signal. Now, to your places one and all and lets make a fight of it!'. Bear lowered his Visor with a curt grunt and unfurled the company banner, A grey bantam on a  crisp white field, he turned and galloped off to the spear block raising a cheer from them, banner held high as he went. 'Good luck Sarge' chimed Ginger as he drew his sword and turned to trot away. 'And to you young man' replied Hoff as he went, and to himself he added 'your farther already wants my blood, try not to give him another excuse....' Hoff turned towards the dark shore trying to get that fateful night at Ballant Keep from his mind.....then he saw them, dark shapes snaking quietly through the water, their thin hulls braking the surf with little effort. Boats, at least 4 of them, a chill went down his spine as he lowered his helm over his head and made ready for the carnage to come........ 

So thats it so far, i hope to get it played soon but i have just started another training course at work that will take the lions share of my attention for awhile but fear not, i will get to it as soon as i can!!!. As far as rules go im planning on using Iron Winds Chaos Wars reboot for the campaign but it will depend on how things go and which directions i choose to go in.

....Anyway, im excited to be getting a bit more focus on gaming (he says having yet to actually start the gaming yet!!). 'Till next time......

Mentally Terrorforming: When in Lamavic AAR2

 Hello all. It feels like its been ages since my last post, work has been a mess of training and assessments of late so all things hobbyish have slowed to compensate. I am aware i am spinning quite a lot of plates on here at the mo (if you can consider projects as metaphorical plates being spun by a simpleton!). What with the new background and basing, two campaigns underway and a set of rules to finish its all a bit hectic. And i hear something involving a jolly fat housebreaker in red who smells of raindeer poo and some kind of season of good will (mainly involving throwing cash at a high street retailer of your choosing) is on the horizon. But do not fear, these projects will come together before i start anything new (i hope!) and to that end i thought i would get on and play another game in one of the campaigns. So today, for your 'enjoyment' i give you.........

When in Lamavic 2, (more than) a bridge too far!!.......

  'SIT DOON YA SOFT BASTARD, THERES NOO WAYS I'M LETTIN' ANY A YOUZ GO AFTA THEM SODS WITHOOT BACKUP!' bellowed Lord Aralin as he loomed imposingly from his throne in the center of the mead hall, his scowling grizzled face half lit in the flames of the fire pit to his left. Below his dais a great swath of his local lords and Bondsmen were seated, each shouting to be heard above the clamor in the room. 'ARE YOUZ SAYIN' responded Lord Bantoc of the Riverlands as he shoved his chair away and jumped to his feet. 'ARE YOUZ HONESTLY SAYIN', he continued 'THAT WEZ HAVE TA SIT ON OUR FAT ARSES AN LET THEM GET AWAY WI' THIS??!!'. 'AHM SAYIN' responded Lord Aralin trying to keep things polite, 'THAT THEM ARSES THAT ATTACKED THE CAIRN WILL GET WHATS COMIN' DONT YOUZ WORRY, BUT WE HAVE TO WAIT FOR THE OTHER CLANS TO GET HERE, THEM GUILD WANKERS WILL PAY BHOYS, BUT WE NEED TO DO IT RIGHT!'. Bantoc would not be swayed. 'DO IT RIGHT?' he responded laughing in mock surprise, 'WAS IT RIGHT WHEN THEM BASTARDS TRIED TO TAKE OUR CAIRN LANDS?, WAS IT RIGHT THAT THEY CUT A DEAL WITH THAT TRAITOR CALLAN AN' HIS EXILES TA GET CLOSE ENOUGH TO ATTACK?, AN' IS IT BLOODY RIGHT THAT AS WE SIT AND FEAST THEM GUILD SHITES ARE MARCHIN' IN MAH RIVERLANDS BURNIN AS THEY GO?, AH MEAN, DONT LET ME KEEP YOUZ ALL WHILE MAH BLOOD ARE DYIN' IN THEIR BEDS BHOYS!'. Lord Aralin stormed off the platform with a face like thunder and grabbed Bantoc  roughly by his thick, bull like neck, bringing their faces within an inch of each other. 'THATS OUR RIVERLANDS AN' OUR BLOOD TOO AN WE ALL WILL GIVE WHAT WE MUST TO DEFEND THEM BUT THEM GUILD BASTARDS ARE OOP TA SOMTHIN' MARK MAH WORDS'. With that he shoved Bantoc back down to his chair and put his knuckles on the table between them. He leaned in towards Bantoc and said in a level voice dripping in ice 'Ah knows these guilds, they don' think like us, its all aboot gold wi' them. Theys not here to mine or offer a truce, theys here to take what they can!. Youz forgettin i merc'ed for the bastards years back, they paid well but we had to leave our morals behind wi' them thats no lie. They always have a trick or some scheme, always puttin' a plan into place. Its all a game to them and as sure as mah shite stinks them arses have eyes on are lands. Theys' may only be comin' in drabs but i'm tellin' youz this is just the start. We wait, hold our ground and let the other Clans send there bhoys, then we march and kill us some southern wankers!'. He stared right through Bantoc while he spoke, his eyes boring into the lesser Lord who seemed to shrink before him. Bantoc grabbed his mead horn and threw it against the far wall, hard enough to shatter it. 'SHITE TA THAT!' he bellowed jumping back to his feet.'IF YOUZ WANT TA SIT HERE AN' FLAP YOUZ GUMS BE MAH GUESTS BUT SOME A' CLAN MALARRAC STILL GOT SPINES!!.' He turned and stormed towards the door. 'THE RIVERLANDS ARE BURNIN' he shouted as he left. 'SHAME NONE AH YOUS GOT ANY BALLS TAH SORT IT!'. 'IF YOUZ WALK OOT NOW BANTOC YOUZ KILLIN YOUZ SELF AN' YOUZ BHOYS' bellowed Alarin after him. 'THEY WANT YOUZ TO ATTACK THEM, THEY KNOWZ YOU ARE COMMIN SIT DOON MAN!!'. It was no good, above the Lords voice the halls heavy oak door slammed shut...........

Meanwhile, in the riverlands......
   Captain Allac fought to regain his breath as he crested the snow crusted ridge. What he had left was sucked from his lungs at the unspoiled splendor of the view. Fifty feet below stretching to the Distant Frostfangs was a lush snow dusted valley. A crystal clear river wound its way along the valleys floor, the spring sun glistening off its rushing waters. Two large wooden bridges crossed the torrent as well as a natural fjord caused by what he guessed was a rockfall. Bird song broke the silence of the moment as the wined tugged at his cloak as he tried to wrap it further round his shoulders. Along the river bank he could see the shapes of the local scouts sneaking forward making sure the column could move unmolested. The moment was broken by a filthy claw like hand roughly gripping his shoulder. 'Aaaahhhh thee winding snowferrit, the river of rivers. its said it was carved from the very rock by a giant badger fjaphophphph  in the month of the coming snows, the say he was pulled by six one legged blue giants drunk on mushroom wine given to them by the gods themselves'. Allac turned towards the source of the bollocks. 'Fannah, i accept you have local knowledge to share but as i said before please address it to sargent Sedge, i cant be bothered with your local superstitions'. The shaman looked confused and then hurt. He ran his hand through his bloodstained hair, loosening some of the dried bones he had crudely tied there. 'Then you wont hear about the saga of one eyed Javvin the Giant slayer then' replied Fannah folding his arms across his chest, 'he killed a tribe of Giants in this very valley with a small wooden spoon and a sharpened parsnip , proper hero he was, not like you heathens with your strategy and boom powder....bunch of jessies'.  Allac held back a snigger 'you locals are so......quaint, if you are referring to the study of the tactics of battle and the use of gunpowder you may also wish to note the fact that the Guilds are bankrolling this project through gold gained by the use of those very things'. 'And where are the gods in all this, you ignore the Majestic Colin the Great Ferret,patron of uneven table legs and the Cosmic Ice Fox Bajajaaaa, lord of the sniffles you get for weeks after a mild head cold. You forsake the Gods dammit for your own gain!!. If it were up to me you could shove ya gold up ya arses till ya choke from the inside!'. Allac folded his arms and fixed his gaze on the scene before him, he saw no point in continuing the silly argument. 'So these are the river crossings?'. He said. 'Aye', replied Fannah, 'Take those and the full force can walk right into the heart of the Mallaric lands'. 'Good' said Allac to no one in particular, then he turned to give an order to the troops behind. As he did he heard a great roar go up from the valley below. From the eastern side a horde of troops rampaged into the clearing and formed a battle line. Fannah peered forward using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun so he could make out the forces banners. 'Bantoc you stupid bastard' he exclaimed, 'looks like you got their attention Allac.....You godless whore'. 'Thats Captain Allac the godless whore' Allac replied. 'To arms men, take the crossings.....AND BRING UP GIRTY'. With a cheer the line of troopers behind him marched down to the valley, drowned out bu the clanking of the Guild of engineers latest weapon........

THE BATTLE
  The game was played using my own 'Blood,Guts and Severed Heads' rules which you can read by clicking on the title in this sentence. The game is set in the valley in the Mallaric River lands where the three main crossing points (two bridges and a fjord) are situated. The objective of both sides is to take and hold as many of the crossing points they can until the end of the game (they are considered held if your troops are on them and no enemy are within 10cm). At the end of the 5th turn the force with the most crossing points wins. The river is impassable.

THE FORCES

BONDSMAN BANTOCS' MIFFED MARAUDERS

Lord Bantoc: Heavy cavalry hero, 6 wounds, 7 attacks, Grizzled.

Bloody Nige the Beserker Priest: Infantry hero, 6 wounds, 6 attacks, Grizzled, Frenzied Madman.
2 units of 10 Clansmen: Heavy Infantry.
2 units of 8 Beserkers: Light Infantry, Grizzled, Frenzied Madmen.
2 units of 6 Clan Horse: Light Cavalry, Brave.
2 units of 7 Clan crossbowmen: Light Infantry, Heavy Missiles.
1 unit of 6 Huntsmen: Light Infantry, Light missiles, Scouts.

The force is on blue bases with black trim and is made of minis by Hat, Red box and Strelets.

CAPTAIN ALLACS RAIDING PARTY OF RAIDERS......RAIDING.

Captain Allac and his personal page percy: Heavy Infantry Hero, 6 wounds, 8 attacks, Elite, Brave.
2 units of 9 Guild Pikemen: Heavy Infantry, Long reach.
2 units of 6 Shott: Light Infantry, Heavy Missiles.
Girty The steam tank: Monster, Heavy Foot, 10 Wounds, 6 Attacks, Heavy Missiles, Really Big, Brave.
This force is on red bases with yellow trim and is made up of minis by Red Box and Iron Clad.

AND THEIR ALLIES, MAD FANNAHS FILTHY FOLK OF FURY.

Mad Fannah: Hero, Light Infantry, 6 Wounds, 5 Attacks, Grizzled, Wizard.
(Spells:'Ye will eat my ruddy great ball of flaming death you ungodly cads!'
             'Run, run to the hills ye wearers of frilly girls underwear!.'
             'I will not suffer you to move you fearful sons of a flatulent donkey!')
2 units of 12 Outlanders: Light Infantry
They are on white bases with blue trim and are made by Revell and Hat.

THE BATTLEFIELD

Oooooh look, a river, bridges, even a bloody fjord!!!.

SET UP

The Lamavic right, Clansmen and huntsmen face the fjord while the Beserkers ready to cause merry hell on the central bridge!.

On the left the Crossbows ready their weapons as the horse face the bridge.

The hordes of Outlanders are on the Guild left. 

 Pike and Shott in the center ready to ruin the beserker types day.

The Guild right overloaded and a half!!.

TO GLORY AND DEATH (and the odd skinned knee!).

  Before a start i would like to explain that some of the photos in this post are truly awful, really, really, REALLY bad!. I would like it to be known i am ashamed!.

The battle begins with a flurry of missiles from both sides as the troops move out, causing some damage but all the targets hold it together in the face of such hostility. 

The Lamavic forces take the central bridge and the fjord.

On the other bridge things heat up!.

The Outlanders swarm the Fjord while the Clansmen hold on.

The Beserkers cant control themselves and slam into the pike, chasing them off!!.

 The Steam tank spies a target.....Lord Bantoc himself!, she lowers her cannon and lands a glancing blow!.........Surely the brave and unshakable Bondsman of Clan Mallaric would never run in the face of such opposition, he would gurd his loins, raise his lance and......... 

.........oh, never mind!.

 Bloody Nige shows his contempt for the Guild Muskets.

Then to prove his point he charges into them sending them packing!

Clansmen pile onto the bridge the Beserkers forgot to hold in their eagerness to kill people.

 Who would win in a fight between some Mentalists and a Steamtank??.....

The beserkers make like safari park chimps and swarm the tank pulling off shiny bits and hitting anything that takes their fancy!.

Captain Allac (and Percy) storm the bridge, chasing off the Clan horse in the process!!!!!

Look Percy, a bridge!.

A unit of Outlanders break off from the fjord to attack the Beserkers.......it goes badly for them.

The Outlanders finally take the Fjord, the Huntsmen attempt in vein to take it back.

The crossings at the end of the battle:

 The left bridge is held by the Guild pike after it was claimed by Sargent Allac.

 The Clansmen hang on to the central bridge.

The Outlanders chase off the Huntsmen to secure the Fjord for the Guild forces.

So with the Guilds holding two crossings it is victory for them and the way into the Clan lands lies wide open.......

 That was fun!. I had to do a report using my own rules (not that i went into detail about mechanics). And its nice to advance the story towards its conclusion, i think an invasion is imminent!. Hopefully i will be able to get some more posts done before christmas gets up a head of steam. Fingers crossed.

.....anyway, till next time......

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 ...er...he 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.

THE BATTLE
  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 FORCES

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)

SET UP

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!

TO BLIMMIN' BATTLE N' THAT!!!

The Rebels advance, the hounds have the same idea!.

The Pike on the flank move out to meet the Clansmen barreling towards them!. 

Huntsmen...er....Hunt by the rocks.

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

'RIP...SNARL....TEAR.....OWWW, DOWN BOY....NICE DOGGY...!!!!!!

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........