In which I blog about my miniature wargaming and whatever else takes my interest!

In which I blog about my miniature wargaming and whatever else takes my interest!

Thursday, March 23, 2017

The Forecast for the Weekend

is rainy with frequent laughter and recurring shennanigans.

Hotlead 2017 is starting tomorrow!

There is a good line up of games and a pretty full dealer area. Next week I shall post an AAR with pictures of course.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Baldor's Bridge

It wasn't a particularly big bridge. A single, narrow span. Barely wide enough for a small cart or the pack horses that most merchants used. But the mountain stream it crossed was swift, steep sided and rocky. If the Witch King wanted to push his armies further south, he'd need that bridge to supply them. There was only one thing wrong with the bridge.

There was a dwarf standing in the middle of it.

Baldor, son of Fundin, son of Nîm, stood calmly in the middle of the narrow single arch bridge, hands folded comfortably on the pommel of his great two handed sword, smoking his pipe. It was a nice little bridge. The stone work was well done and had stood against snow and flood for centuries. He'd seen bigger and more elaborate bridges in his travels to Gondor, but the quiet confidence of the workmanship appealed to him. It was also a good position to hold against vastly superior numbers.

He just hoped that the King came up to support him soon. He'd already seen some orc scouts and could hear the harsh blare of their horns beyond the trees. Soon they'd be upon him.
Initial deployment. Angmar on the left. Dwarves on the right. Baldor is on the bridge.

Elf scouts

Morithol, the Dark Helmet, cursed the sniveling orc scout and deployed his army. Men in the center, orcs on the flanks. He'd rush the bridge with his squadron of horse and if necessary support them with armoured foot and trolls. But it was always hard to get trolls moving and speed was important. He needed to cross the bridge and fortify a camp for the next stage in the campaign. He pointed his black lance southwards. "Forward!"
First moves

Baldor tapped out his pipe on the wall of the bridge and tucked it carefully into his belt pouch. As a troop of black armoured Men from Carn Dûm cantered up the path to the bridge, a black banner flapping at their head, he put on his helmet. It was a fine helmet, decorated with fire breathing dragons, and made for him by a friend.

"You shall not pass!" He bellowed in the Common Tongue.

The men just laughed and broke into a gallop.

"Well, you had your chance," he said to himself as he hefted his sword. The bridge was narrow, throwing the riders into confusion as they jostled each other to get at him. The lead rider got free of the press and came at him, spear couched like he was trying to spit a boar. Baldor knocked the spear tip aside and as the rider passed him,  with the return stroke sliced through the thigh and the side of the horse bringing both down in screaming bloody ruin.

Using the carcass to hamper the horsemen as they tried to get at him, Baldor swung viciously. Each stroke leaving a spray of blood and bringing another foe down. A thrown spear hit him in the side, but it didn't penetrate his linked mail. He climbed over a dead horse to cleave it's trapped rider in two. The last rider broke off, riding back to the forest.
Baldor rested behind the heaped up dead or dying horses and riders. A company of black clad foot emerged from the path and prepared to attack. Behind him he could hear the deep melodious war horns of the approaching dwarf host. " 'bout time. Thought I'd have to kill them all myself."
Turn 4 (or 5?) General advance. Second attempt on the bridge
With a shout the men charged forward. When they got to the bridge and the ruin of the cavalry they lost their footing in pools of blood and tripping over corpses. Baldor's great sword again started swinging in mighty arcs, splintering spears, shattering shields. Helmets cracked open and the steel blade smoked with blood.
Seeing the first ranks fall, the rest withdrew back to the woods.

Orcs were now coming up on his right and Baldor didn't want to be swarmed by their black feathered arrows. He made his way through the bodies towards the enemy.

"Barak Khazad!" he roared and charged into their midst.
The best defense is a good offense. Baldor charges into the men.

Baldor risks getting cut off
 The advance in battle array was going slowly. Durin, the Sixth of that name, took his own company straight for the bridge. Another company was to take position on each side to stop the orcs from crossing. His fourth company marched steadily towards the hill to support the Elven scouts who were contesting the stream.

Orcs closing in (notice the werewolf in the upper left corner, hasn't moved all game)
Morithol cursed again. Two attacks on the bridge had been driven driven ​back in bloody ruin. To his right a company of men ran away in panic from a few elf arrows.  They disappeared into the woods before he could cut a few down to rally the rest. And that damn werewolf hadn't done a thing. Eating all that meat just to lurk around in the trees and watch.
Baldor knew he was in a bad situation. The men had retired in good order onto the remains of their cavalry. A shrieked order was answered by harsh horn calls and he could see companies of orcs marching up on his left to add to the company on his right that now started peppering him with arrows. A few found rents in his armour, but a feeling of lightness overcame him as Gandalf was now close enough to start exerting his magics across the stream.

Rather than stand under the arrow storm, Baldor hefted his blood streaked great sword and charged the closest Orcs. The steel sang as it sliced through orc armour and broke through barbed orc spears and curving scimitars. The ground was soaked with the black blood of the uruks and the remnants scattered into the forest.
Baldor charges into the Orcs while Durin crosses the bridge.

Enchanted sword vs. a bunch of rusty orc cleavers. His magic armour saved two of the hits too.
Trolls now crashed through the trees, pushing aside the panicked orcs and charging at him. Dodging the blows from their mighty hammers he felled one and wounded another causing the great beasts to back away warily.
Baldor fighting the Trolls now
Durin only briefly thought about holding firm on the end of the bridge. He wasn't going to leave Baldor, Fundin's son, unsupported and fighting the entire enemy host alone. With his war horns sounding the attack he lead his Hall Thegns across the corpse strewn bridge and attacked the closest company of orcs. "Forth Sons of Durin!"
Durin charges into the fray
The scarlet banner of the King met the black banner of Angmar. Arrows hissed. Swords swung. Black blood sprayed upon armoured chests as axes and war hammers smashed down. With a cry the orcs broke off, but did not run.

Overview end of turn 9 (?)
Morithol had pushed his horse to the front by this time. The approach to the bridge was carpeted with dead and dying men, orcs and trolls. With a shriek of anger he charged at the King's Banner. His black blade, engraved with fell runes, cut a swath through the King's Thegns. Their axes pierced his armour, but he cut many down and even wounded the king, forcing Durin back to the stream edge.
Morithol attacks Durin

Following their Captain, the Trolls attacked Baldor again. Exhausted, he fought back. A hammer blow smashed into his shoulder as he cut another down. The remaining Trolls fled and Baldor limped back to the bridge.
Meanwhile Baldor fights with the Trolls again
Fulda, son of Thain, had been trying to get into the fight. Pushing his way through the warriors marching over the bridge, he saw the King's Banner waver and fall back to the stream. "To the King!" he shouted, charging into the fray.

Morithol could sense victory. If he could just crush this petty dwarf king the rest would run. The king was bleeding and pressed against the edge of the water with half of his guards dead around him. Soon his dark blade would feast. But his horse reared as another dwarf charged at him screaming a war cry. Circling he swung and stabbed. This one fought with sword and shield, deflecting his strokes and getting past his guard twice. Wounded heavily he withdrew.
Fulda saves the King
Game end

Looking around, Morithol screamed in rage. That damn dwarf warrior had wounded him badly. Half his army was fled or dead. The rest were wavering. He turned his horse and rode away. Seeing their Captain leave and with fresh dwarf warriors crossing the bridge and fording the stream, the host of Angmar fled.
Baldor leaned against the bridge, smoking his pipe. It had been hard to get it lit with one arm in a sling and his shoulder heavily bandaged. He watched the activity around him. The apprentices had come up with the baggage and were busy piling the bodies of orcs, trolls and fell men for burning. Their arms were piled separately. Some would be kept as trophies, but most would be taken back to Khazad Dûm for melting down. Baldor was keeping one of the troll hammers and the helmet of the first rider on the bridge. Durin's fallen Thegns were set apart, to have a mound built over them to watch over the bridge until the ending of the world.

He was aware of an old man in a grey cloak and ridiculously tall hat watching him with an amused expression. He nodded a greeting and spoke around his pipe stem. "Gandalf." 

"Hail son of Fundin! That was fell work today."

"I have you to thank for some help, I believe."

"I do what I can." Gandalf chuckled. "Already the Elves are composing songs about your stand. Baldor Foehammer some are calling you."

"Baldor the Bloody, more like. It'll be ages before all the gore is cleaned out of my armour."

"King Durin is being taken to the House of Naleth to have the wounds from that Angmar blade treated. In the meantime I've started entrenchments at both ends. We should be able to hold the crossing for some time now." Gandalf eyed Baldor curiously. "Why here? Why not make your stand up in the mountains?"

Baldor shifted so that Gandalf could read the faded runes cut into the stone "Nîm made this."

"I've always liked this bridge."

Game notes:. This was a BIG game. 56 points a side. In hindsight I would split each army in two and add an extra subcommander. Too many units to have everyone stalled after a failed activation roll. The Commanding leadership reroll kept the dwarves moving many times.

I used the Hold On scenario from Lion Rampant, but extended the time limit because of the bigger forces and I was just having lots of epic fun letting the narrative unfold. I treated the narrow bridge as rough terrain for cavalry, and then once choked with bodies it was rough terrain for the infantry too. The hero holding the narrow bridge is a common theme in history that I wanted to play out on the table.

Also in hindsight, Morithol's tactics were terrible. He should've used the orc archery to support a charge by the Trolls or the werewolf, who wouldn't have been constricted by the narrow bridge.

The magic armour saved Baldor several wounds. That and Gandalf casting a couple of healing spells kept him in the game. The reroll for the enchanted sword was pretty brutal too. Although Morithol's venomous blade cut a swath through Durin's guard too. Rolling three 6s in one attack hurts!

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Barak Khazad! Part 2

Finished the next contingent of Dwarves this weekend. 8 huscarls and the Dwarf King with guards will give me two more 6 figure units of elite foot and another hero.

The king came with 3 spear carrying guards. Since that isn't enough for a shield wall I turned them into flag carriers.

The Royal Standard is from the door to Moria as depicted in The Fellowship of the Ring:

This one is a mix of the Bear of Berne, Viking standards and Celtic bears:

This one is supposed to be a Celtic dragon biting its tail:

Pinterest was very useful for searching for graphic inspiration for the above. I like the intricacies of Celtic inspired art, and I think that would appeal to Dwarven craftsmen too.

One of the standard bearers gave up his shield for my hero with the shiny sword. His stance and one handed grip just made me feel he should have a shield too.
Being a hero, he gets an elaborate shield design.

Here is my Dwarf King:

This completes Wave 2. This also brings the dwarves up to a decent strength; four units of elite foot and two heroes. Tooling up the heroes with magic armour and enchanted weapons would take the dwarves up to 44 points.

I would like to add some spear armed shield wall troops and some bow armed scouts to round them out.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Entish Addition!

I've been thinking I needed another Ent to bulk out the Elves.

So I've been searching the web, and good looking (to me) Ents are hard to find. The Reaper Ent looks like a piece of broccoli.
With the demise of Warhammer Fantasy Battles and Lord of the Rings, Games Workshop Ents have gone from the market.

This fellow from Majestic Bear Enterprises looks the business (and he's pretty big), but at GBP24.99 plus shipping he's a bit too dear.

So I did a search on eBay, and found this fellow in France:

For 8.80 Euros, including shipping. So Cdn$13.06, which is about what I'd pay in gas to drive to London or Kitchener and maybe find a Games Workshop LOTR Ent in stock at a game store.

A week and a half later, a small padded envelope arrived in the mail. So here's the figure on a half inch grid:
Yup, pretty basic and what I paid for.

Assembly was easy. Not a lot of flash, and really, is it a mold line or bark? A bit of super glue and a 40x40 card base I had precut and voila!

OK, kinda puny compared to the older Games Workshop Ent. But still tough. Perhaps make the new guy a lesser warbeast and the old figure a greater warbeast.

And there he sat for a few weeks.

But when I did get around to painting it was fast. A few shades of brown. A brown ink wash and then dry brushing with a mid-grey finished the skin. Patches of leaves were done in two tones of green and then given a green ink wash. The eyes were dotted yellow and hit with some green ink at the same time.

Here are some quick snaps right from the flocking tub.

Enough to scare an orc, I think!

Meanwhile, Pete spotted a batch of Vendel elves in the Lead Adventure Forum trading board. So a significant reinforcement for my elves will be coming in a few months!

Monday, February 6, 2017

Orc Raid!

Garshak, the Goblin chieftain, sat in his dim, smokey hall, gnawing a gristly chunk of mutton. Two of his uruks were fighting while the rest egged them on. He had a headache and then he chipped one of his dirty brown fangs on a bone.

He cursed and threw the offending bone at the head of the nearest of the fighting guards. "Stop that you maggots! We're goin' ta get some bacon!"
Gandalf was caught by early snow in the passes on the wrong side of the Misty Mountains. He'd hoped to spend Yule in Rivendell, but the halls of the men who lived between the mountains and the Great Wood along the Anduin would have to do. Fortunately the beer was good and Erkenbard, the local headman was a fairly decent draughts player.

He sucked on his pipe while studying the board. Suddenly the door at the far end of the hall banged open. A wild-eyed herdsman stood panting in the open door. Just as someone was about to protest he summoned the breath to blurt out one word.

Garshak lead his raiding force along the foot hills, taking unsuspecting hamlets and farmsteads unawares. But as the columns of smoke and fire leaped into the winter sky word of his raid spread and some of the villages were better prepared. Soon it would be time to take his loot of smoked bacon, barrels of ale and slaves back to his caves.

But the trolls were still hungry, so one more village.

I played this game of Dragon Rampant solo on the weekend. I used the "Sausages and Mustard" scenario from Lion Rampant. The Orcs get 2 Glory Points for each building looted and set on fire, the Men get 2 GPs for each building left standing. The Men are mostly Light Foot with short range missiles, plus a unit of skirmishers. Erkenbard's Hearthmen (the unit with the Boar banner) are heavy foot. My new Elf archers also joined in as Light Missiles. Both warbands came to around 28-30 points each. Because my men are on multi figure bases, I used the red bingo chips to mark hits, and then I decided to leave them on table to mark the blood and mark where I'd removed Orc figures as well.
Initial deployment, Men enter from lower left, orcs from upper right
It was a hard march through the snow. Erkenbard had his company of Hearthmen, the best fighters, hunters and biggest farmers in his community, plus as many other warriors as he could muster. Quicker youths ranged ahead scouting.

Gandalf stopped to lean on his staff. "Erkenbard, look! I don't think you will fight alone today." Erkenbard turned to look where Gandalf was pointing. A column of cloaked figures were marching swiftly from the forests to the east and joined them.
Elves from the Great Wood. "We saw the fires of the Orc raid and came to help."
Initial deployment from the other angle, orcs on left, men upper right
Garshak had his warband formed into a rough line. Nothing fancy. Straight in, smash 'em up, grab everything they can and burn the rest. 
"At 'em boys!"
With a growling of throats and the blaring of harsh horns the Orcs swept forward over the fields.

Orcs advance

Men off to a slow start

Early moves

Alford stood quivering. The old, young and women had been sent into the forests with everything they could carry. But they had to protect the huts and remaining stores of food, or they would all be dead from hunger and cold by spring.

Like the others he had a hunting spear and a couple of light javelins. As he watched the dark mass with ragged black banners like crows wings come at them over  the fields and through the orchard he felt his guts turn to ice. The wattle fence didn't seem like very much protection.
Attacking the village
A few black feathered arrows fell among them. They answered with a roar and a volley of javelins. Several Orcs went down, staining the snow black. More arrows filled the air around them. Men went down screaming. Somewhere a wolf was howling. Looming over the Orcs they could see the great horrible shapes of trolls stomping through the orchard. 

"Trolls! Save yourselves!" someone shouted starting a panic. The men of the village fled.

Erkenbard swore in disgust as the villagers ran past him screaming.
"Doesn't matter lads. If we don't stop this filth here then they'll be burning our homes next! Forward!"
Help arrives!
The scouts skirmished through the village raining javelins onto an Orc company. "Bugger dis! We've 'ad enuff!" the Orcs shouted and fled.
Too late! Village defenders panic and the Orcs are in the defences
"Right lads! get to lootin'" Although it seemed to take his boys a while to stop squabbling and sort out who was taking what. The snow wet thatch took forever to catch fire too. A javelin took the uruk closest to him in the throat. Men were counter attacking! Where'd they come from? After an initial close fight where the heavier armour of the Orcs gave them the advantage, the men backed off and harassed the Orcs with javelins and quick stabbing forays among the huts keeping Garshak's uruks distracted and off balance.

Fighting in the village

Erkenbard was going to bring his Hearthmen around the edge of village to hit the Orcs in the rear when a giant howling Wolf charged at them! His warriors started to fall back and looked ready to run when Gandalf's voice was in all their ears "Stand fast! Here is where you defend your own hearths!"

Erkenbard's warriors steadied and reformed their shieldwall. The Wolf attacked again, but enough spears had pierced it and it slunk away into the trees leaving a trail of blood.
Erkenbard's men attacked by the Giant Wolf

Culain and his Elf warriors were sweeping around the other side of the village, trying to get to a spot where their archery could get a good field of fire. Orcs and the Trolls moved to attacked them.
Elves sweeping around the village
"Draw. Loose!" Culain shouted and volleys of grey fletched arrows slashed into the advancing black waves. The young men skirmishing from the edge of the village also dashed out to hurl javelins into the flank. Soon the snow was black with the blood of Orcs and Trolls. The remainder fled over the fields and back to the mountains.
Trolls go down in a hail of arrows and javelins
The Men had been driven back a bit and Garshak had some breathing space. A chance to loot more of the village.
With the barn finally on fire, Garshak tries to loot the next building 
One of his Uruks grabbed his sleeve in a panic. "Hey Boss! De Trolls iz dead!" He looked over to the fields on the left. "And where iz all de uvvers?" the Uruk asked, echoing his own thoughts. A voice was snarling in every hairy, orcish ear "Doom! You'll all die here in the cold!" Panic set in and the uruks fled from the village squealing.

Garshak managed to stop a complete rout in the field beyond the village by generous use of his whip and lopping a couple of heads from shoulders. 
"Back into line you maggots!"
But the men were advancing steadily, shields to the fore, spears down, a fighting boar banner snapping bravely overhead. To his left Garshak could see the elves advancing through the wreck of the rest of his warband.
Garshak's last company of Orcs are driven from the village
He didn't fancy being picked apart by those damned elf arrows and simultaneously spitted on the Men's spears"Right lads. Let's get out 'uv 'ere!"

Gandalf had a quiet word with the Elf captain, sending his best hunters after the trail of wolf blood. Erkenbard organized the putting out of fires and tending to the wounded. The scouts ranged into the woods to find the gathered loot and slaves the Orcs had been unable to carry off in their panicked flight.

Gandalf pulled out his pipe and got it puffing. "Now then, Erkenbard. Perhaps we can return to that game of draughts? I think I've almost got you!"

The Orcs were hampered by some pretty bad Courage tests leaving Garshak's company on it's own. The Men had trouble activating. Only the Orcs trouble with flint and steel kept more of the village from burning.