The Prowling Forest, Part 3

The Raid

The Ironforged sat at Ironlarder Gorge, the gnoblars scampering around carrying platters of meat and tunkards of ale.
"So, I lost the lads in the rainstorm, just before we met", Hrothgur grabbed a shank and shoved it whole in his mouth.
"And what were you up to?" asked Skargat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Found some ruins. And stashed goods. Blackpowder, maps, those other scribbled things humans like. Guess an old camp of them Freeguilders".
"We go there, right?" asked Cargo, bits of meat flying from his smacking lips.
"We do! Sure someone comes searching for all that stuff. And we make ourselves a name beating them properly. If we find Growt and Marg there, all the better", Skargat looked at the other ogors with a glint in his eyes. Then he turned to the gnoblars.
"You, Burna! Bring me those stonehorn brain fritters! All this thinking gave me cravings!"

As Hrothgur had said, the barrels of powder and the rest of the stuff were scattered around some old ruins.

Cargo was standing guard, Watcha and Loota fetching him some snacks. The rest of the Ironforged were still ranging around to see if they could find any trace of the missing gluttons.

Suddenly he spied movement in the dim light of Gnorl Half-Eaten. Krashhart, Sinka and Mr Flea were trying to sneak upon him.

The three orruks split, each heading for a different stash, burning tapers in their hands. Cargo leapt to stop Sinka and gave the Brute a good thumping, but it was too late. The barrels exploded in a blinding flash.

Watcha and Loota run between the legs of Krashhart and Flea, snuffing their fuses and sneaking out of reach.

The explosion drew Skargat's attention and he came back from his ranging, charging straight at Sinka and flattening him.

With the Brute down, the Tyrant and Cargo rushed towards the ruins, just in time to see Krashhart smacking down Watcha and to stop him from burning various stashes of scrolls.

Behind them, Poka followed Skargat's trail and emerging from the forest moved to protect a heavy tome laying just outside the ruins.

Another booming explosion and flashing light filled the night as Flea clubbed Loota unconscious with his drum stick and finally managed to set his fuse.

Poka cried out a warning as he spotted the rest of the Swordfyshes closing in on the ruins from two directions.

Cargo stood his ground in the centre of the ruins, holding both Krashhart and Flea.

Skargat left the stone circle and moved to stop Hook, Mainstay and Barnacle Nog.

Bleeding from many cuts, Cargo managed to knock down Flea. But then Battendown and Flotsum jumped him. As Cargo fell, the chunk of amberbone slipped out of his pocket and was lost in the undergrowth. Poka chose the wrong moment to forget he was a gnoblar and rushed in to protect the fallen Maneater. With a laugh, the orruks swatted him away.

Skargat's greataxe swung back and forth, Hook and Mainstay falling in front of it. But the Tyrant's arms were getting sore and he only managed to wound Barnacle Nog.

With a furious bellow, Hrothgur came out of the wood and leapt to the centre of the stone circle, just in time to stop the Swordfyshes to burn the loot Cargo had been protecting.

Skreecha and Basha, following behind Hrothgur cried in alarm as they saw more Swordfyshes approaching the stone circle.

Rather than trying his luck against Skargat, Barnacle Nog slept away. As he fled, he spotted a third powder stash, where Poka was supposed to have stood his ground. With a grin, the ardboy tossed a lighted taper in and legged it.
As the barrels exploded spectacularly, the Swordfyshes withdrew laughing, for once not having to carry Krashhart unconcious back to their base camp.

Skargat sucked a bone dry, belched and tossed it into the fire.
"Come on, lads! The orruks have wasted the gunpowder and there was nothing worth in the papers, true! But we knocked down four of them, all big strappy boys".
"Getting ourselves a name, aren't we?" a loud farth accompanied Hrothgur's comment.
Laughters echoed through Ironlarder Gorge.
"We are!" replied Skargat once he recovered a little of his breath. "And soon we'll go deeper into the Prowling Forest. Today Skreecha found a stranglegrove swamp, but we're not ready to move camp there. For now, we'll do with the itxi grub he brought back".
The Ironforged nodded in satisfied agreement and as one each sunk their teeth into another chunk of meat.

The Prowling Forest, Part 2

Clash of Bullies

"And I name this land Brawler's Crag!" Basha's high pitched voice sounded loud over the clamour of the gnoblars setting up the Ironforged camp.
"No! It's the Ravenous Ravine!" metal rung on the rocky ground as Loota dropped the pots and cutlery he was carrying and stood up to Basha.
"This is the Hungering Canyon!", perched on a rock, Skreecha outdid both Basha and Loota, reaching the highest pitch with his squeaky voice and throwing a handful of sharp scrap at the fighting gnoblars.
"Enough!" Skargat's axe came down, the flat of its blade propelling Skreecha through the air and into Basha and Loota, in a jumble of scrawny green limbs and assorted junk.
"You little ones set up the camp and leave the naming to us big guys! Is that understood?". The shuffling of tiny feet on the ground was the only answer.
"Good! Our camp is Ironlarder Gorge. Now get back to stash our food and tools!", the Tyrant then turned around and stomped towards the fire where Cargo and Barag were roasting an amberhorn goatling.
"Right lads, grab your meat and come with me. I need a fight and I'll get myself one!"
"Sure chief! What about going to Brackenthorn Tower? The Bloodgulper and his gluttons went there a couple of days ago and haven't come back yet".
"Wherever! I need a fight and I'll get myself one, I said!"
"Do you think he is feeling it too?" Cargo asked in a whisper while dousing the fire.
"Ghur's heartbeath? As you and I are, and those little buggers really winded him up. It's going to be fun."

"There they are!" Barag boomed as he was the first to spot the Swordfyshes through a tangle of stranglervines and grasproots.

Skargat halted and listened carefully. As soon as he figured out where Lord Krashhart was, he barreled forward, swinging his axe wide around Sinka and straight into the Warchanter's chest. The boisterous orruk tried to fall back, but Skreecha and Poka jumped in. Skreecha was badly trampled, but Krashhart could not leave.

Suddenly the sky burst in a rainstorm, drenching the fighters in jade water. Krashhart's wounds started to heal, stoking Skargat's rage, the wild beating in his head growing ever more unbearable. Again the Tyrant took advantage of his greater reach and ignoring Sinka sent Krashhart sprawling to the forest ground.

The Swordfyshes recognised that might makes right and without a single word grabbed the unconscious Warchanter by the feet and dragged him away.

***

Some distance away, Cargo could hear the commotion of the fight, but he was more interested in what Watcha had found while exploring the Prowling Forest. The chunk of amberbone he had found felt warm to the touch and vibrated rhythmically, echoing the tumping all ogors had been feeling since sunrise. With a grin, the Maneater slid the amberbone into a pocket and made back for Ironlarder Gorge.

The Prowling Forest, Part 1

Prologue

"Now what, chief?" Barag asked, lazily picking a piece of gristle from his teeth and flinging it away.
Skargat's reply was announced by a thunderous belch followed by Cargo's rumbling laughter of appreciation.
"That Bleed thing has dried out all right. So no way back to Chamon. But there's plenty of loot and food to have in these Scarlands, don't you think?"
"Aye, capt'in!" came Cargo's reply, grog dripping from his chin. "And those orruk messing around are good sport too! What's their name? Cleavermaws and Swordfyshes, in'it? Poor sailors, though!"
"You tell me that, Cargo! Sailing never been my thing. Much more for a good treck myself. And treck we will! Have you heard of the Prowling Forest?"
"That hungry forest grown around some old human city?" asked Barag.
"That's the one! I sent the gnoblars to do a bit of exploring there. They've found a nice gorge where we can set up our larder, just on the edges of the Forest".
"And then? Who's there to hire us, Skargat?" Barag asked in disbelief.
"Nobody. The big cat turned into some kind of lizard, the sneaky orruk went back to his paymasters and the stunties' city has taken back to the sky. So we start our little Mawpath and grab what we want for ourselves".
"Freebooting, eh?" chuckled Cargo.
Laughters and burps came as a reply from both Barag and Skargat as the three ogors loudly resumed their feast.

After a bout of Open Play while waiting for the release of the second edition of Warcry, Saul and I are ready to start a new campaign. We decided to play it out of the book, each of us picking Quests and then building the story as we play game, rather than having a plot to flash out through the games like our previous ones. The only change we are making is locating our adventures in the Prowling Forest rather thn in the Gnarlwood. This will link our story to the aftermath of the last Animosity campaign.
I had tried both the Arcanites of Tzeentch and Ogor Mawtribes warbands in those Open Play games and really enjoyed the Ogor Mawtribes, so I painted a few gnoblars to have more list building options.
Here they are, the Ironforged, infamous ogor mercenaries from Chamon, now stranded in Ghur, and their gnoblar attendants.

Skargat Brainglut, the Tyrant. Heroic Trait: Resourceful

From the left: Cargo and Barag, the Maneaters

From the left: Growt, Hrothgur Bloodgulper, Marg: Gluttons with two clubs and Crusher

The Explorers, gnoblar scouts. From the left: Finga, Skreecha, Watcha

The Manbiters, gnoblar warriors. From the left: Poka, Basha, Sneeka

The Raiders, gnoblar plunderers. From the left: Burna, Loota

The Harrowmark: The Twisted Oak, Part 13

Epilogue

Kalyustar brooded in the deepest crypt of the mausoleum where the Cursed Company had retreated after conceiding the Twisted Oak to the Rotmoons.
'You did well in the eyes of the Master', the Shadeglass Skull's voice came, for once sooting and devoid of its usual mocking tones.
'He too is no stranger to meddlesome brutes and vermins tampering with His plans. But He and His servants have time as their ally. And what does he do with time, Soulchemist?'
"He gather strength and soldiers and plans His next move... Once again, you're right old friend. I should follow in the footsteps of the Master!"
Kalyustar rose from the chair he had been sitting and walked to the crypt altar. There, seething with the cold energies of Shyish, sat the skulls where the power of the Twisted Oak had been stored. It was less than he had wanted, but it would have been enough to try something that so far only the Vampire Lords of the Vyrkos dynasty had achieved.
The necromancer lifted the two skulls and smashed them together. Amethyst sparks flew around his hands as he started to intone a summoning incantation.
The amethyst sparks coalesced in a globe of necrotic energy, skulls appearing and fading across it, their jaws open wide in silent screams. Then the globe darted upwards, flewing straight through the shaft bringing the musty air of the Harrowmark down into the crypt.
"It is done, old friend. Now we wait".
It wasn't long before a deep, rumbling moan and heavy footsteps sounded outsyde the mausoleum doors.
Kalyustar opened them wide and there, next to the engraved lintels, they waited, awkwardly shuffling their feet, their arms hanging slack along their bodies, guts spilling out of deep wounds.
'Deadwalker Ogors. Good, Soulchemist, good!'
"Yes, my friend! If it is only brute force that DaLeeva and his crew understand, i'll give them some like they have never seen before".

This has been an amazingly entertaining campaign, even though it was on a COVID hiatus for two whole years and, towards the end of it, I couldn't post about it as regularly as I'd liked.
The games were all tense and fought to the very last, all the while giving plenty of opportunities to develop a good story.
One thing those game thought me is that you need a careful balance between numbers and muscles when playing Warcry. Not knowing what the battle conditions will be until the very last moment before starting to fight means that going for pure elite or horde warbands might find you at a disadvantage. Gamewise, this means that I had to add some elite fighters to the Cursed Company.
Narratively, however, Ididn't want to go for any vampire. Kalyustar is not likely to share power, and a necromancer will inevitably fell under the sway of even a lesser vampire like a Bloodknight. Luckly, the release of rules for the Kosargi Nightguard gave me the perfect choice: big, strong, mindless zombies, easy for Kalyustar to control.
I had two Mournfang Cavalry bodies in my bits box and all I had to do was repositioning the legs so that they stood rather than sit astride a saddle. This also allowed me to give the legs the typical unnatural angles of zombie legs.

Similarly, I had to glue the Glutton hands, arms and heads at unusual angles to keep the feeling of a shambling zombie. Then, I carved holes in the exposed flesh and eyes and filled the gutplate holes with rolls of greenstuff to represent spilling guts. Finally, I sculpted flaps of torn skin above the spilling guts and around some of rents I had carved.

The final touches before painting were the addition of weapons embedded into the zombies bodies, all taken from the Glutton sprue, and rebuilding the belts. For that, I glued the buckles from a gut plate on the right and then sculpted the end of the belt on the left.

Painting wise, I stuck with the dirty yellow and black uniforms and worn metals of the Cursed Company, going for a rotten green for the ogors flesh.

I painted the guts with Bugman's Glow, followed by washes of Carrobourg Crimson and Druchi Violet and finally a liberal coat of Blood for the Blood God, giving the feeling they are still wet, as if the belly bursted recently. For the wounds I instead wanted an old, scabby look, achieved by sparingly applying Blood for the Blood God over blotches of Typhus Corrosion.

The Harrowmark: The Twisted Oak, Part 12

The Blood Moon

'It is time, Soulchemist!'
The Shadeglass Skull's voice called to Kalyustar, intruding into a dream of brightly uniformed humans cheering a masked wizard.
'Lunaghast is about to rise, Soulchemist!'.
The cheering faces turned into grinning skulls and the bright uniforms into faded blacks and yellows as Kalyustar opened his eyes. A grimoire, skulls and candles were laying on the lid of a sarcophagus. A lodestone laced with gravesand had been driven through the roots of a dark-barked oak. Skeletons stood at the ready all around.
'Everything is ready. Your servants prepared everything for the ritual. The Twisted Oak's power is yours to take, Soulchemist...'.
Memories came back to Kalyustar's mind. The search fo the Twisted Oak and its power, key to vengeance against Sigmar's servants that betrayed him so long ago. The attack of Alarielle's followers, the spear of the Kurnoth Hunter piercing his shoulder as he approached the bloated trunk of the Twisted Oak. And what else... Grellem Vallkern's blade flaring above him?
'This is of no consequence, Soulchemist!' the Shadeglass Skull voice came in imperiously. 'What matters is the will of the Master... and your plans for the Twisted Oak's power'.
"You're right, old friend. Grellem Vallkern, take command and let none come close'. The Wight King nodded and the skeletons jerked into positions around the Twisted Oak.
As he opened the grimoire, the dream he had been awakened from flashed into Kalyustar's eyes. Has it been a dream? Or was it a memory? Could it have been a glimpse of a different future?
'This too, is of no consequence, Soulchemist! What matters is the will of the Master. Begin the ritual!'
'Yes, old friend. Power and vengeance will be mine'. A ghastly glare sipped out of Kalyustar's mask eyeslits as he intoned the first words of the spell that would have siphoned the power of the Cursed Oak.

Kalyustar's voice sounded loud as the reddish hue of rising Lunaghast started to tinge the night sky. Suddenly, the raucos warcries of the Rotmoons boomed out of the canopy as the orruk approached the ring of skeleton sentries around the Twisted Oak.

Blades rang as the frenzied orruks charged forth, rusty nails held in their chunky fists. The line of skeletons held true, not even the massive Kaptain DaLeeva breaking through.

Kalyustar kept his attention on the ritual, the necrotic energies held by the Twisted Oak starting to flow through the loadstone and into the skulls lined on the sarcophagus.

Grellem Vallkern and the Seneschals came forward, bolstering the skeletons' line and holding back the second wave of the Rotmoons.

More power flowed through the loadstone, enough that Kalyustar could divert his attention to raise back some skeletons to pin down DaLeeva.

The Cursed Company started to buckle under the unrelenting assault of the Rotmoons. Even though some more orruks were felled, Dragante managed to open a breach into the skeletons' line.

To Tambor's maddened drumming, DaLeeva and El Doctoro barged through the breach and reached the loadstone, hammering the rusty nails down with their bare fists.

The sorcerous backlash almost stunned Kalyustar, but the necromancer stepped back from the sarcophagus and redirected the wild magical energies against Awkwardo. The orruk withered in seconds.

Bortagno felled anther skeleton while Dragante barged Rhedgar aside and drove another nail into the loadstone.

Kalyustar rushed back toward the sarcophagus, desperately trying again to prevent the backlash to disrupt the ritual.

It was too late. The loadstone cracked and splintered, magical energies starting to flow back into the Twisted Oak's trunk and roots.
'Grab what you can, Soulchemist! Lunaghast is setting and the orruks had the best of you... again...'
"Do not mock me, friend! But you are right. Cursed Caompany, retreat!" As the Cursed Company filed away Kalyustar spied the orruks putting their axes to the Twisted Oak. Vengeance against the men that bretrayed him was still his goal, but now he had one more score to settle with DaLeeva and his brutes.

***
Saul's version of the story is here.