Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)


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Post Sun Apr 14, 2019 11:15 pm

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Sounds like an excellent use of tables to generate the outcomes.

And more fun for you, as GM, to be surprised by the results.

What was the player action or option that allowed this encounter to occur?


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Post Sun Apr 14, 2019 11:39 pm

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Craig, whose PC is Father Carradalio, is our long distance player. He does everything the other players do, but lives far too far away (more than 300 miles) to command in tabletop battles - another player stands in for him. Previously, he played the arch-lector Calictus II until that character died, then became the Praepositus-Generalis. He's the reason for the Reman unrest and the Disciplinati's bloody seizure of the city, and the reason the civil war suddenly stopped - he decided he would rather fight the vampires than the living army of Remas, playing the religious warrior rather than a tyrant and a usurper.

Anyhow, before Carradalio and his army left Viadaza he knew something in the city was preying on his men, then while he was marching north I was reporting the damage done and he knew it was followng his army. Finally he stopped believing his lieutenants claims that they could deal with it (i.e. me, as GM, telling him what his lieutenants were promising), and ordered that the army would stop so that everyone could concentrate on killing whatever was preying on them. Which is what they did in this story.

You might think that the vampire player, whose PC is the duchess Maria, would want to play the game, commanding his (her?) NPC lieutenant Lord Adolfo but ... that player just dropped out of the campaign, and indeed WFB! (Which is why, in RW terms, the last battle was so short - he quit before taking his turn in turn 1. It is a long story!)

So as GM I had to create the tables and let the dice and the rules rule. I had a long distance player who couldn't attend, taking on the NPC servant of a player who was no longer in the campaign!

Funny old world, eh?
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Post Mon Apr 15, 2019 7:28 am

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Well done! Father Carradalio gave his life well in the service of holy Morr. Your campaign is a thing of beauty! I have much to learn from you.
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Post Tue Apr 23, 2019 3:57 pm

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Orjetax wrote:I liked this peek behind the curtain, Padre.

Although I feel bad for you and your pals.

It sounds like your departing player had very different expectations of what makes this exercise a fun one.

If competing to win a balanced game is important, a person should play chess.

The storytelling and creative aspect is what makes this hobby worthwhile, in my view. And if that’s the view, a win or loss shouldn’t be what matters.

It sounds like you dealt patiently with the situation.


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I'm still really enjoying this Padre and echo Ortejax comments above. It is very sad that a player of so many years decided to throw in the towel on the day. One would have hoped that they would at least play through the day, even against heavy odds. Such is the stuff of which campaigns are made. Personally I would give an arm and leg to be able to pay in such a campaign as you are running here, though I do sympathise with the player and their disillusionment with what has become of Warhammer recently, surely this is what Oldhammer is all about?! Keeping alive the older rules and stories and above all enjoying the time painting, planning and playing.

It sounds like your campaign is way bigger than one player and I hope this incident does not dampen anyone's spirits for continuing the story and the games.

If you are ever desperate for a stand-in, I'm not too far away (most of the time anyway, I do work in a touring role) and with a little brushing up on the rules I'd be more than happy to step up!

Looking forward to the next instalments, keep up the excellent work!
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Post Mon May 27, 2019 10:39 pm

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Thank you Orjetax, SymphonicPoet and Lands Annex. I will keep you offer in mind, Lands Annex. This campaign will continue (God willing, so to speak) for years and so I might take you up on that!

Meanwhile, more story ...


A Fair Share
The City of Campogrotta, Autumn 2403

It was the middle of the morning when Glammerscale encountered the damsel Perrette. As before, her face immediately lit up with a smile and she invited him to walk together a while, which suited him well for it had been his intention to talk with her. His servant, Thaldrin, a short, round fellow with a neatly trimmed beard, fell in behind the two of them as they made progressed along the way behind the ruined walls of Campogrotta.

Along almost the entire, ragged stretch of tumbled-stones there were scattered labourers and masons, both dwarfs and men, as well as ladders, piles of wooden planks, and other necessaries for the fashioning of scaffolding needed to begin the repairs. Campogrotta had suffered greatly from the attentions of the dwarfen artillery, especially the ancient ‘cannon-imperial’, Granite Breaker.

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“You were hoping to meet with me, master Glammerscale?” suggested Perrette.

“Aye, my lady, I was. There’s much afoot and I would know your opinions concerning it all.”

“I think, in truth, it is my intentions that most concern you,” said the damsel with a grin. “And I suspect it is Thane Narhak who wants to know. I doubt he was keen to speak to such as I and so sent you as a suitable emmissary?”

“It is no burden for me, my lady,” said Glammerscale. “But aye, the thane is most keen to learn of your plans.”

“Master Glammerscale, you are a very poor spy,” Perrette said, chuckling.

“So poor,” he agreed, “that I had not even realised I was one.”

“Or, perhaps, you are so good a spy that you can conjure an illusion of honesty and lure me into a false sense of security?”

“I always strive for honesty, my lady,” said Glammerscale. “And so, with that in mind, I am told you have considerable influence now, like unto a captain.”

“The Brabanzon behave as if I were a queen,” she said, fixing her eyes upon him, channeling a most regal stare.

Glammerscale had witnessed her in action before the walls of Campogrotta, watching the fire she conjured broiling the brutes’ slaughtermaster. He had heard also heard how she had tumbled several lead-belchers from the wall during the first assault, causing them to explode as they fell!

“I think, my lady, they have every reason to show you due respect.”

Perette laughed at this. “If that were the case, then why do they not bow before the mighty empress Granite Breaker? I may have singed the ogres’ flesh a little but look here, look at what her massive majesty did.”

She gestured to the huge fissure in the wall they were passing, as if Glammerscale needed it pointing out.

It was his turn to laugh. “Ah, but my lady, Granitebreaker, despite her enormous size, is a dwarf, and the Brabanzon would surely never kneel to a dwarf.”

“Their days of kneeling for anything other than money are long gone,” said Perette. “What respect they have for me is born of fear.”

“Is that not the case in many a kingdom?” asked Glammerscale.

Perette did not answer immediately but came to a halt. She watched a pair of Brabanzon soldiers walk by, acknowledging their bows by gesturing with her fan, then seemed caught in a moment’s reverie.

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“Now that both the Wolf and Jean dead,” she said, “as well as their closest companions, the survivors have elected me captain. If you and Thane Narhak are surprised to hear this, then I assure you that I am more so. I knew they had shaken off the yoke of vassalage to the nobility, but in choosing me it appears they care for very few of any of our homeland's traditions.”

“Are you not honoured by this turn of events?”

“I suppose, in some ways. They no longer … pester me like they used to! Yet, I cannot say I am pleased by this turn of events. Responsibility does not sit comfortably on my shoulders.”

“I am glad to say I never had much responsibility, beyond a few servants to command and apprentices to instruct,” admitted Glammerscale. “If it means anything to you, my lady, I think the Brabanzon have chosen wisely.”

Perrette gave a little curtsey, saying, “I thank thee, good master dwarf.”

“So, captain of the Brabanzon, now that you have been paid what was promised, and your soldiers have had their desire for plunder sated, I must ask, will you go to Ravola with the wounded baron?”

“He has asked, and I have promised to put it to the men. We are a very democracy, you see, when it comes to such decisions.”

“You spoke with Baron Garoy, then?” asked Glammerscale.

“No, he sent one of his cavaliers. I asked the man if the baron was recovering well, but he simply said he had yet to get over the worst of it. Do you know if he is likely to live?”

“He is being tended day and night by the Sisters of Shallya and is under the care of the best doctor remaining in the city."

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Glammerscale hesitated a moment, then admitted. "In truth, I suspect the man is probably the only doctor in the city! Still, the baron is young, and the doctor assured me the break was simple. He still has the leg. He might walk forevermore with a limp, but what Bretonnian knight chooses to walk anyway?”

“Well, his messenger had little to say and could not answer at all when I asked about the terms of the proposed employment.”

“I doubt the baron himself has considered such details yet. Do not concern yourself, he’ll be fit to talk long before he’s fit to travel and so there will be plenty of time for such discussions.”

Perrette fanned herself a moment, then with a wry smile asked, “I wonder if he’ll receive me in his chambers for our negotiations?”

Glammerscale knew there was a joke in there somewhere but could not for the life of him work out how to ask without risking great offence. Had she been intimate with the young baron on their journey here? Was she suggesting she might become so? Or was it some reference to his arrogant nobility and her dubious past? He decided to play it safe and talk about chamber instead.

“The baron is comfortably lodged in what they say was wizard Lord Niccolo’s chamber. He has the largest bed in the city.”

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“’Tis a wonder the brute Boulderguts did not use the bed.”

“I doubt even that bed would have been of sufficient capacity for the likes of him!”

“This wizard-lord, Niccolo,” asked Perrette. “Has he been found?”

Glammerscale frowned. “No, nor is there any clue he ever was here in Campogrotta. A very mysterious sort of man, I have to say, for the supposed ruler of a city realm. The chamber in question contained no personal possessions and was buried beneath so much dust and cobwebs it cannot have been used in some considerable time. And he apparently had neither courtiers nor servants to tend to his needs.”

“I asked some citizens,” said Perrette. “They talked of him - his tyranny and cruel proclamations. One of them told me he treated them no better than the ogres’ goblin-runt servants. But they never saw him Not once! There was a friend of a friend, who saw him, or a neighbour’s nephew, and so on, but no-one I could speak to.”

Glammerscale had heard much the same. Only the previous day, Thane Narhak suggested Niccolo must have been as old as it was possible for a man to be, and maybe a little older than that, and as such would hardly have been able to address the crowds, never mind inspire fear in them. Besides, the thane had added, Niccolo had the ogres to do the frightening, and everything else too. The man did not have to leave his rooms.

But none of that rang true for Glammerscale. Although he had said nothing at the time, he was beginning to think there was something everyone was missing concerning the wizard lord, and not just the unused chamber. There had long been rumours that Lord Niccolo was a vampire, thus his unnatural age. This was why several Tileans had suggested there must be an alliance between the vampire duchess and Niccolo, such that while the brutes tore their way through the heart of Tilea, the vampires had conquered the north – and although neighbours, they conveniently stayed out of each other’s way. Niccolo had sent a company of brutes and the last of Campogrotta’s human soldiers to join Arch-Lector Calictus II’s holy war against the vampire duchess, but he had also dispatched Razger Boulderguts to ravage the homes of the soldiers in that same army! Hardly the actions of a true ally in the fight against the vampires.

Glammerscale was not at all convinced. Vampires might shun the daylight, but not the night-time too. They needed blood and when they ruled a realm they were not shy in the drinking of it, and when made mighty by their sanguine sustenance, they need not hide every moment in the shadows. Nor did they surround themselves with brute ogres, instead siring other vampires for their courts and resurrecting the dead for their armies.

There was definitely something more to the wizard lord; something Glammerscale could not put his finger on.

He noticed the two Brabanzon who had passed them by had come to halt by a doorway, far enough away that they could not hear what he said.

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“My advice, should you wish to take it my lady, is to get more than gold from the baron for your continued service. Without the Brabanzon, he could do nothing now. What few ogres are said to remain in Ravola could easily defend the city against what few knights the baron commands. If your assistance is all that makes his conquest possible, then you and the men of the Brabanzon should expect to receive land too. You deserve a means to live and thrive, if you wish it.”

“It seems to me that you dwarfs think of us as seeds to be planted, so that come harvest time there will be good trade to be had.”

Glammerscale chuckled at this. “Trade is good, I cannot deny it. And yes, it is better to have strong neighbours as future allies, rather than rat-infested ruins. But many Brabanzon fell before the walls of Campogrotta, and those who survived deserve more than mere gold. There is good soil and sturdy homes to be had in Ravola. A chance for old soldiers to live well.”

“Then there is more for us to vote upon. If the men want it, then I shall demand it." Fixing eyes upon him once again, she asked, "You speak of prosperous neighbours, master dwarf. What of Campogrotta itself? Now that his army has taken the city, is King Jaldeog not to rule here?”

“Oh, our king has no desire whatsoever to possess this city.” …

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… “But like I said, and the king agrees, trade is good. Ravola is a Bretonian realm in Tilea, but Campogrotta is thoroughly Tilean. Its future has already been decided upon. The Compagnia del Sole, being nearly all Tileans, are to govern here, as part and parcel of their payment.”

Perrette snorted. “I suppose it costs a lot to replace their shoes.”

Glammerscale need not ask to what she was referring. The Compagnia had arrived too late to join in the assault upon Campogrotta, and now that it was becoming clear that Razger Boulderguts was unlikely to return to reclaim the city, their service was turning out to be all marching and no fighting!

“They fulfilled their contract,” he said. “And we have paid them, part in gold and part with the rule of Campogrotta. They might have accepted Campogrotta alone if your Brabanzon had not already removed so much of worth.”

“As we were promised, Master Glammerscale.”

“Aye, my lady. Well and good. I am not suggesting any wrong-doing on your behalf. Not at all. Both your company and the Compagnia del Sole have received proper recompense.”

Perrette looked around, shrugged, then asked, “Where are the new rulers, then?”

“They'll be here tomorrow. Right now, Captain Bruno Mazallini is to swear an oath before the statue of the goddess Myrmidia in Buldio, where the Battle of the Fog was fought centuries ago.”

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“All the Compagnia’s officers and chancellors are to swear too. It is to be quite the ceremony ...”

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“… drums, colours, and all the military rigmarole that suits such a solemn and binding oath before the goddess.”

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“Thane Narhak himself will witness it.”

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“Swear what exactly?” asked Perrette.

“That Captain Mazallini and his officers shall govern Campogrotta as agents of King Jaldeog’s will, heeding his majesty’s advice and instructions, doing all they can to make the city realm prosper, for three years, after which the city will become theirs entirely, in permanent friendship with Karak Borgo.”

“Not the king’s vassals?”

“No, as allies and trading partners. You see, who better than an army of veteran soldiers to defend this city at such a time of troubles? My advice to them was the same I gave to you.”

“So you are planting more seeds, master dwarf? Let's hope the crop does not turn out to be weeds!”

“I like to think that whatever grows here and in Ravola, it has to be far more fruitful and pleasant than the brutes we have driven out!”

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Post Thu Jun 06, 2019 7:48 am

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Well told, sir! It will be most interesting to see how Glamerscale's seeds grow up. Perrette should make an intriguing and potent captain. :)
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Post Mon Jun 17, 2019 6:50 pm

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

Thanking you Symphonic! It will indeed be interesting to see what she gets up to. But for now, here's the prequel to the next battle ...


The Battle of the Isean Hills

Prequel: Each to Their Own

The army of the Disciplinati di Morr, bereft of its beloved, founding father, but still bound to the service of holy Morr, had drawn close to the city of Ebino and then halted. When they learned the vampire duchess had more than sufficient forces within the city to repel any assault they attempted, their new pastor-general, Father Lorenzo of Urbimo, ordered the fortification of their camp so that they might instead blockade the city, harrying any forces attempting to leave the city or join the garrison, while awaiting reinforcements of their own.

Fully aware of their depleted strength (indeed, having sent her servant Adolfo to prey on them to bring about just this end), the Duchess Maria decided she would not give them time to lick their wounds, nor allow any more forces to join them, but would instead march from the city in strength to deliver her ‘colpo di grazia’.

On the morning of the battle, each of the two armies prepared themselves for the fight ahead. In the part-completed, fortified camp they were building upon the hills to the south of the city, the Disciplinati di Morr gathered for prayers; while in the fields below the ruined Church of San Sabrella to the east of Ebino’s moated walls, the vampire Duchess Maria drew all the unliving servants she had in the city to her.

The Disciplinati’s new pastor-general, the Urbiman priest Father Lorenzo, was not the orator Father Carradalio had been, and so instead of an inspired, stirring speech, he simply read from the holy book of Morr. A swathe of dedicants crowded around him, as well as lesser priests and Captain Vogel’s palace guards, and all fell silent as he intoned.

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Father Lorenzo chose his passage carefully. While in Urbimo, overseeing the cruel cleansing of the town, he had favoured the verses concerning the purity of the soul required for passage into Morr’s heavenly garden, and the punishments necessary for those who tainted themselves with wicked words, deeds and thoughts, or lured Morr’s living servants into the same. When the impure were burned, he had concentrated on the chapters describing the torments awaiting those who were not suitably cleansed either through their own will and discipline, or by the punishments inflicted upon them as a curative penance.

Here, however, before battling the vampire duchess’s foul army, he knew that something more uplifting was required. The men gathered around him were to face hell later that day, which made threatening them with the same seem somewhat redundant. He wanted to inspire them to fight fearlessly, to lay down their lives without hesitation, and so it was that he read of the abundant rewards awaiting them in Morr’s garden-paradise.

Several priests, their hands clasped in humility, stood closest to Father Lorenzo. These few knew the text well enough to add their own voices to the most important parts, thus ensuring those words were better heard by all. Other than the priests’ occasionally conjoined voices and the fluttering of the ragged banners (these fashioned from the tattered remains of ancient saints’ robes), the only other sound was the occasional ripple of mutters and whispers through the crowd as they involuntarily muttered repetitions of this or that inspired phrase.

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The holy book’s words revealed that every drop of blood the dedicants shed in Morr’s service would be amply compensated with heavenly wine; that long labours for their lord-god would earn them ages of ease; and that every moment of agony would be rewarded by eons of ecstasy. Indeed, those who were sufficiently holy in the here and now could experience the first hint of that eternal ecstasy within the very agonies themselves, their pain tinged with the perfect pleasures to come.

The dedicants’ attention was given a keener edge by the knowledge of what they were about to face, and as they listened to the holy book’s powerful promises, their fears were swept away and replaced with excited anticipation. The more they suffered this day, the greater the rewards would be. It was all many of them could do not to begin their flagellation there and then!

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Maria knew Lord Adolfo was dead, for she had sensed his demise two weeks before. As for Biagino, he had gone so far from her that although she could feel something was amiss, she could no longer know whether he (un)lived or not. Here and now her only her vampiric servant was captain Bernhardt, who would be her lieutenant in battle. There was a necromancer, Saffiro, a wretched fellow whose fawning company she could hardly bear, his blood so dry as to be undrinkable, his very being seeming to be composed entirely of mould, dust and rags, but even ignoring her distaste for him, such a creature would prove a poor second on the field of battle. Bernhardt, on the other hand, was very much a warrior, having been a condottiere captain in life, during which he fought both in the northern realm of the Empire and all over Tilea.

As her army assembled almost in silence, she beckoned Bernhardt over. He was clad in full plate armour and carried a blade almost as long, from tip to pommel, as she was tall. When he came to a halt before her, she said,

“Good captain, faithful, favoured servant, your hand.”

Despite not knowing why she asked, he reached out without hesitation. She laid her own hand upon his, her cold, pearl-white fingers resting upon the layered steel plates of his gauntlet.

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Now he understood. This action was a sign of her favour - that this day she honoured him above all others. As she looked at him, her eyes seemed just as palpable as her touch, and for moment he forgot all but his fierce love for his mistress. All about them the duchess’s undead servants became still, momentarily bereft of any directive will.

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Moving one step closer, Maria brought her mouth almost to Bernhardt’s cheek. She spoke quietly concerning what she expected of him in the battle to come, which was that he should give his all in her service, both his sword arm and his military ken and, if necessary, his life. She wished the foe killed to a man, so not one could escape to reveal the nature of her own forces to her enemies in the south. Having been sired by her, and utterly beholden to her will, he willingly accepted all she commanded. He could do nothing else.

Less than an hour later, near the head of the army, the two of them rode together towards the enemy’s camp.

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Post Mon Jun 17, 2019 10:14 pm

Re: Tilea IC2401 (Campaign#8)

What a fantastic scene between Maria and Bernhardt, the calm before the storm certainly but something a little romantic, even if through the eyes of undeath. Great picture to sum it up!
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