Right - the last post of the year, then.
One thing we need before we commence with turn one is the actual scenario rules and the deployment plan.
This is the table:
In 3rd Edition, buildings are broken up into sections, to cater for movement and occupation. Koles Lorr is large enough to consist of three sections, as follows:
Scenery Rules:
- The rock face of the hill can’t be climbed on.
- Can fly over hill on level +10, rocks and woods on level +20 and tower on level +40.
- The rocks and the barreled defense count as hard cover.
- The woods are considered difficult terrain.
- The terrain is split in half creating two zones: orc zone and dwarf zone.
- Victory points are gained by occupying the zone of the opposite army.
- The tower has three main levels: ground level, 1st level and top level (see picture) and is made of stone.
- Dwarfs objective: capture cargo with as least 5 models.
- Dwarfs: Gain points by preventing tower from being destroyed or damaged.
- Orcs objective: eliminate Sir Loyne and Tendhe Loyne while defending the precious cargo.
- Orcs: Gain points by destroying or damaging the tower.
The 'cargo' is, of course, the cart with the curry powder.
So, with that in mind, these are the deployment areas:
Even if you are familiar with Warhammer 3rd Edition rules, you might be thinking 'what the hell is a dwarf scout? I've never heard of those?'
...and you'd be right. They are simply a unit of five skirmishers, who happened to arrive before the rest of the force. This is the advantage of narrative - we can make stuff up.
Also, given that Blue is the newest member to our little online gaming group, we felt it was the right thing to extend the first turn to him.
Sensei Milliog slowly released his breath, opening an eye to watch the steaming expulsion dissipate in the morning air. Milliog had left camp well before the sunrise in order to determine the future. This was something that Trammer used to do when the tribe was trying to work out what to do next. Now that he'd lost his head, Milliog felt that the duty of divining the tribe's next move fell onto his sloped shoulders.
Unfortunately, Trammer had never told Milliog how this divining was done.
After Trammer's unfortunate demise, Milliog had spent the rest of the previous evening pondering the mysterious snuff. Pondering, dear reader, is not something that the orcs excel at at the best of times, and now that his tutor had exploded, Trammer would be hard pressed to consider this the best of times. Still, in the absence of any actual thought, he certainly gave off the impression that he was deep in thought, by staring deep into the embers of the fire and scratching his buttocks from time to time.
Indeed, so powerful was his apparent thoughtfulness that the other orcs didn't even offer him a bit of Trammer once they'd cooked him up.
"Poor boy's mourning," one said.
"Yer, leave 'im be - pro'lly doesn't want to eat 'is mate now, does 'e?" pointed out another.
A third orc struck the first in the face, pointing out that it was now the evening, and not the morning, so how could the poor boy be morning? He further posited that it was impossible to be any specific time of day if you were an orc, and then moved on to question the sanctity of the first orc's mother's bed. This prompted the first orc to defend his position and family, which he did so with verve, by biting deeply into the eyebrow of his accuser, whilst punching vigourously in all directions.
It wasn't long before the rest of the orcs entered into the debate, leaving only Milliog and the cooked remains of his late mentor sitting on the sidelines: one pondering, the other smouldering. Milliog realised that he was never going to get anything done this way. He skulked off to go and investigate the mysterious snuff in the wagon.
He realised that it would be a good idea to see the powder in action again. He secured the services of a willing goblin (by hooking his fingers in the vile creature's nostrils and leading him to the wagon) and was able to observe the effects of the snuff again.
Although the goblin sneezed violently for what felt like quite a while, Milliog noted that it's head only exploded once he'd walloped it with a club. He repeated the experiment a few times with other goblin volunteers, noting that if he didn't hit them, then they didn't explode. They did seem a little distressed, with plenty of sneezing, tears and snot, but they seemed to be able to function more or less as before.
He tried it twice on orcs as well (those not engaged in that evening's fireside entertainment), reasoning that the goblins didn't explode because they didn't have any brains anyway, so there was nothing to explode in the first place. As it turned out, the orcs reacted in the same fashion. He noted with interest that their heads didn't even explode when struck with the club.
Therefore, the powder must be magical, because only magical orcs exploded. The problem was that he was the only magical orc left, which meant that he couldn't prove his theory unless he managed to get an observer. And, if his own head exploded, how was the observer going to tell him what he saw? One can't hear very well without ears, can one?
By the time he returned to the fire, the surviving orcs appeared to have come to an agreement (which had since moved from orcs and mornings to whether or not Pi was an actual number...) and were just dropping off to sleep. Finding himself unable to discuss his findings with anyone sensible, Milliog refreshed himself with some left-over Trammer. It was whilst chewing through a particularly stubborn bit of cartilage that it occurred to him that he might be able to divine the future, and possibly the purpose of the powder. After all, it had to be valuable if a whole army had been escorting it. And it was the sort of thing Trammer would have done.
And so Milliog watched his breath evaporate in the morning light. He had spent most of the night outside of camp, staring up at the silhouette of the old tower as the day broke, no wiser for his efforts.
Frustrated, he stood up, yawned and stretched. Just as he was about to depart the scene, he noticed a banner bobbing into view over the horizon. He waved his hand in front of his face, hoping to clear the gentle mist obscuring his view. The mist didn't clear, but Milliog was certain - he'd seen that banner before.
It was the banner of the dwarves they ambushed just the other day. The ones who were moving the snuff.
He wasn't too clear how they came to be there, but that was a matter for another day. Right now, he needed to get back and rally the boys. Milliog evacuated the scene and loped back to camp.
This time they'd have to make sure the dwarves stayed dead...
***
One thing we need before we commence with turn one is the actual scenario rules and the deployment plan.
This is the table:
 |
| As you can see, Koles Lorr is... large. |
Scenery Rules:
- The rock face of the hill can’t be climbed on.
- Can fly over hill on level +10, rocks and woods on level +20 and tower on level +40.
- The rocks and the barreled defense count as hard cover.
- The woods are considered difficult terrain.
- The terrain is split in half creating two zones: orc zone and dwarf zone.
- Victory points are gained by occupying the zone of the opposite army.
- The tower has three main levels: ground level, 1st level and top level (see picture) and is made of stone.
- Dwarfs objective: capture cargo with as least 5 models.
- Dwarfs: Gain points by preventing tower from being destroyed or damaged.
- Orcs objective: eliminate Sir Loyne and Tendhe Loyne while defending the precious cargo.
- Orcs: Gain points by destroying or damaging the tower.
The 'cargo' is, of course, the cart with the curry powder.
So, with that in mind, these are the deployment areas:
Even if you are familiar with Warhammer 3rd Edition rules, you might be thinking 'what the hell is a dwarf scout? I've never heard of those?'
...and you'd be right. They are simply a unit of five skirmishers, who happened to arrive before the rest of the force. This is the advantage of narrative - we can make stuff up.
Also, given that Blue is the newest member to our little online gaming group, we felt it was the right thing to extend the first turn to him.
***
Unfortunately, Trammer had never told Milliog how this divining was done.
After Trammer's unfortunate demise, Milliog had spent the rest of the previous evening pondering the mysterious snuff. Pondering, dear reader, is not something that the orcs excel at at the best of times, and now that his tutor had exploded, Trammer would be hard pressed to consider this the best of times. Still, in the absence of any actual thought, he certainly gave off the impression that he was deep in thought, by staring deep into the embers of the fire and scratching his buttocks from time to time.
Indeed, so powerful was his apparent thoughtfulness that the other orcs didn't even offer him a bit of Trammer once they'd cooked him up.
"Poor boy's mourning," one said.
"Yer, leave 'im be - pro'lly doesn't want to eat 'is mate now, does 'e?" pointed out another.
A third orc struck the first in the face, pointing out that it was now the evening, and not the morning, so how could the poor boy be morning? He further posited that it was impossible to be any specific time of day if you were an orc, and then moved on to question the sanctity of the first orc's mother's bed. This prompted the first orc to defend his position and family, which he did so with verve, by biting deeply into the eyebrow of his accuser, whilst punching vigourously in all directions.
It wasn't long before the rest of the orcs entered into the debate, leaving only Milliog and the cooked remains of his late mentor sitting on the sidelines: one pondering, the other smouldering. Milliog realised that he was never going to get anything done this way. He skulked off to go and investigate the mysterious snuff in the wagon.
He realised that it would be a good idea to see the powder in action again. He secured the services of a willing goblin (by hooking his fingers in the vile creature's nostrils and leading him to the wagon) and was able to observe the effects of the snuff again.
Although the goblin sneezed violently for what felt like quite a while, Milliog noted that it's head only exploded once he'd walloped it with a club. He repeated the experiment a few times with other goblin volunteers, noting that if he didn't hit them, then they didn't explode. They did seem a little distressed, with plenty of sneezing, tears and snot, but they seemed to be able to function more or less as before.
He tried it twice on orcs as well (those not engaged in that evening's fireside entertainment), reasoning that the goblins didn't explode because they didn't have any brains anyway, so there was nothing to explode in the first place. As it turned out, the orcs reacted in the same fashion. He noted with interest that their heads didn't even explode when struck with the club.
Therefore, the powder must be magical, because only magical orcs exploded. The problem was that he was the only magical orc left, which meant that he couldn't prove his theory unless he managed to get an observer. And, if his own head exploded, how was the observer going to tell him what he saw? One can't hear very well without ears, can one?
By the time he returned to the fire, the surviving orcs appeared to have come to an agreement (which had since moved from orcs and mornings to whether or not Pi was an actual number...) and were just dropping off to sleep. Finding himself unable to discuss his findings with anyone sensible, Milliog refreshed himself with some left-over Trammer. It was whilst chewing through a particularly stubborn bit of cartilage that it occurred to him that he might be able to divine the future, and possibly the purpose of the powder. After all, it had to be valuable if a whole army had been escorting it. And it was the sort of thing Trammer would have done.
And so Milliog watched his breath evaporate in the morning light. He had spent most of the night outside of camp, staring up at the silhouette of the old tower as the day broke, no wiser for his efforts.
Frustrated, he stood up, yawned and stretched. Just as he was about to depart the scene, he noticed a banner bobbing into view over the horizon. He waved his hand in front of his face, hoping to clear the gentle mist obscuring his view. The mist didn't clear, but Milliog was certain - he'd seen that banner before.
It was the banner of the dwarves they ambushed just the other day. The ones who were moving the snuff.
He wasn't too clear how they came to be there, but that was a matter for another day. Right now, he needed to get back and rally the boys. Milliog evacuated the scene and loped back to camp.
This time they'd have to make sure the dwarves stayed dead...
***
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Battle Navigation
The Rules of the Game
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