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  1. - Top - End - #1
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    Default WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)



    WARHAMMER FANTASY - THE KINGS OF WINTER

    OOC THREAD





    1st Sommerzeit, 2501


    The Reavers of the Red Song

    Otto, Egil, Larus, Hygd, Groktur and Morgul

    The Sea of Claws was rough and choppy, with the dark clouds of a summer storm grumbling on the Northern horizon like a cantankerous old Dwarf. The setting sun dipped low and shone an angry red like the eye of the Blood God himself, casting a gory pallor across the waves. It had been like this for two months. Two months of reaving and pillaging down along the coast of Ostland and Nordland. Now the hold of the Red Song was close to bursting with their ill-gotten gains.

    Bodhi Ymirsdottir, assigned to lead the small flotilla of vessels by the Jarl himself, had given the order to strike one last town along the shore. It was a small fishing village called Grenhoff. Most of their raids had met with little resistance – militia at best – but it was well-known that word would be spreading of their raids and with every further attack, the chance of encountering better equipped resistance would be increasing.

    Among the flotilla, the Red Song captained by a strange Southerner named Otto was the only one that wasn’t of the typical Norscan-crafted longboats. It was a sleek vessel, fast upon the waves like many of the great predators that lurked in the dark waters around the bitter, wind-swept coasts of the North. Otto called it a caravel, but to the reavers who sailed with him, the distinction was nothing more than fancy southerner words. Otto didn’t mind, really. He still wasn’t as comfortable with all the practices of the Northmen, but even they appreciated the speed and maneuverability of his ship – and that had earned him their grudging respect.

    There were four other longships, each bearing their own crew of reavers and ne’er-do-wells, but those who rode with the Red Song were an ambitious, if inexperienced, lot. Around thirty Norscans, strong of limb but young in years, crowded on the deck alongside Larus and Egil – an excited chatter filling the top-deck as they spotted the glowing illumination of bonfires in the town down the coast. Despite the crowding upon the deck, most of them gave a wide berth to Morgul and Groktur – the two Beastmen who had come along to win glory and prestige from the summer raids of the Winterscorn tribe. Morgur almost hadn’t gone on this particular voyage. There were mushrooms that grew in the darkness of the woods around the Jarl’s hold that Morgul had been watering with the blood of many sacrifices for months and it would be time to harvest the potent hallucinogenic reagents soon. But, the night before the Red Song set sail, Morgur had seen an omen in the spilled entrails of one of the goats that were being ritualistically carved and prepared.

    The omens indicated that when the bloody eye of Kharnath dipped low and the sea looked unto blood, in the court of Gren he would find one that the Ruinous Gods had desired to possess. The steppes man who listened to the flies. So, gathering his things, Morgul had arrived on the docks and waited. It did not take much for Bodhi to be convinced to bring him along. The only other sorcerer that the Ymirsdottir had at her disposal was a Norscan girl named Hygd.

    Now, from the aftcastle, Hygd Strangeways stood with Otto as he guided the ship silently through the choppy waters towards their target. The crew had come to accept the foreign sea-captain, and though they often gave Hygd a wide-berth as well, there was a grudging respect at the blessings that Techar the Raven God had given her in the form of her sorcerous abilities.

    One of the Norscans, a tall young man of somewhat slender build with a full head of blonde hair and beard shouted in alarm from the bow of the ship. He was named Herger, and carried a carved minotaur horn capped with brass in his hands.

    “Grenhoff ahead! There’s something happening in town.” He called back to the rest. “Looks like half the town is gatherin’ in the square.”

    Egil and Larus were crowded near the front with Herger and a young, spritely lass named Sigrun who was fiddling with the pair of notched hand-axes tucked into her belt with a wide grin. They could see the lust for battle shining in her eyes, as much as the rest of the reavers.





    Grenhoff

    Nicoli Oleg

    It had been three days.

    Three days in the dark, cold cellar of the tavern with shackles binding his hands together.

    He knew he should have bypassed the sleepy little fishing town, but hunger and the buzzing whispers that plagued his dreams urged him onwards, and eventually into the arms of the Grenhoff militia.

    Now, as the townsfolk stacked cords of wood around the wooden post in the center of the town square, Nicoli found himself being dragged to his feet by two young men in the livery of the Nordland Elector-counts army.

    Slowly he was paraded through the town square, the gathered people hurling jeers and curses at him. Called him a witch, a mutant and things much worse.

    Whether it had been true or not was a moot point to the insular folk of Grenhoff. Rumours had been circulating of late that the Northmen were raiding along the coast, and the people needed someone to vent their frustration and anger on.

    Unfortunately, that someone was Nicoli Oleg.

    He was to be burned at the stake.

    Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nicoli thought he heard the boisterous laughter of some corpulent fiend, but all he saw was the hatred and the anger of the townsfolk.

    Nicoli was broken from his reverie by a rotten apple striking him in the side of the head and fragmenting from the blow. He felt the noisome insides of the moldy fruit drip down onto his ear.

    Ahead, standing before the framework of the pyre that was being built just for him, Nicoli saw the stern face of the Sergeant of the Nordland Halberdiers that were camped in Grenhoff.
    Last edited by Erulasto; 2018-08-18 at 06:03 AM.
    "Even in these chains, you can't stop me!" - In This Moment, Big Bad Wolf

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    NecromancerGuy

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    The cold shackles dug into the flesh of the Godspar. They had left him in the tavern cellar like some sort of trapped animal, starving and beaten. They thought to taunt him by giving him spoiled food. The look on there faces as he ate it with no issue was priceless to Nicoli. From Praag to Greenhoff, Nicoli had felt nothing but contempt for these people. Contempt, that the whispers would turn to hate.

    An apple to the face cuts off his train of thought, his tongue coming out to scoop up some of it's bits. Better then the rats. Being dragged up on to the stake, he dosent scream. He glares, the flies buzzing around him in such mass it could almost be seen as a dark cloud. His eye's meet the sergeants. The stern face of a coward. "May the Raiders take your skulls as trophies, Cowards. Camp in Empire Village? Hide in Empire village. To scared to fight Norsca Raiders. Norsca raiders use bones of fresh Empire men as snacks" he says, a rotten smile on his lips

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    Lárus smiles a savage, thin-lipped smile. "The fools have made a spectacle for themselves, and now their eyes are turned away from the sea. Truly, the gods of war bless us - if we go in quick and quiet, we will slaughter them before they know what hit them," he says to Egil and Sigrun.

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    Egil still has a headache from overindulging in stolen beer the previous day. No matter. Battle tended to make him feel better.

    In the sight of the red sun, he is not as confident as the boy. The reavers were pushing their luck as it is. Still, this seemed like a piss poor excuse for a defence if the southerners were trying to make a fight of it. To Larus, smiling in spite of his hangover, 'I have never been quiet. If this lot haven't learnt to watch the seas they deserve everything that's coming to them.'

    Egil will scan the coast for anything that looks like a proper defence.

    Spoiler: ooc
    Show

    Perception vs. Int 30 / 2
    (1d100)[73]


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    Hygd trailed a hand over the side of the boat, as though to catch and clutch at the surf the Red Song ripped up. She marvelled as the vessel cut its way through the waters, then turned her eyes from its churning. Hygd withdrew her hand from over the side of the side of the boat. She took in Otto, skilled as he was. Then she turned to the others, all the while smiling a lopsided rictus-grin. It would not have been a grin out of place on a wolf.

    The aspiring sorcerer rubbed a wet thumb across her palm and forefinger, momentarily marvelling in the wet sensation her thumb created. Then she ripped her eyes from the men and their Gods-Work. She turned her eyes to the prey-peoples in the distance and her smile widened just a touch wider.
    “Have no fear, you will find your way. It's in your bones. It's in your soul.”- Mark Z. Danieleweski, House of Leaves

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    Otto

    Otto rests a hand easily on the wheel. The setting sun would mask their approach, and the breeze blowing from the land would deaden the sounds of the ship cutting through the water. If all went as planned, this village of Grenhoff would have no idea they were under attack before the raiders were already ashore. It struck Otto that the same tactics that worked well in smuggling also worked well for this Norscan style of warfare. Get in, get out, and be quick about it. Of course, one could never really count on the Norscans to retreat when all good sense demanded such. Always screaming something about blood and skulls and whatnot, letting their desire for violence overwhelm their desire for gold. It wasn't an inclination Otto shared.

    "Alright, we'll slide in easy. Get ready; with this wind, we'll be right up on the beach in short time."
    07/03/2018: I’m back. The long break was necessary.

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    The Reavers of the Red Song

    Otto, Egil, Larus, Hygd, Groktur and Morgul

    From all that Egil and the other Reavers could see, Grenhoff was exposed to the sea with the entire northern portion of the town built right along the sandy beach. Several wooden docks jut out into the churning tides, braced on small pillars of stacked stone masonry. It seemed to consist of mostly small huts, that grew in size and scale as they moved further away from the beach itself. On the small jetties and docks, a half-dozen small fishing boats were tethered securely, and a single flat-bottomed barge was drawn half-way onto the beach itself. On the southern edge of town, barely illuminated by the growing firelight from the town square, was a single tower of stone and wooden-roofed bunkhouse that likely held whatever small garrison this town was worth.

    A quick estimate from Otto, having seen plenty of small villages like this in the early days of his illicit career, placed the town of Grenhoff at containing – at best – a population of just under a hundred souls. It also wasn’t likely they housed much more than militia, though if the presence of the stone guardtower was any indication, there may actually be at least a small company of Imperial soldiers present.

    As the caravel cut through the water towards the town Larus picked out the shape of a large wooden stake with innumerable cords of wood stacked around it. Apparently the town had decided that there was someone worth burning at the stake. Such a spectacle truly would bring the reavers the element of surprise. Even now, they could hear the rising sound of the jeering crowd barely carrying over the surf.

    The Red Song would hit ground first – the speed of the caravel was unmatched among the reaver’s longships – and ensured that the fresh, eager crew would also be the first to engage whatever enemies were present.

    Some of the other shipmasters in the small fleet that served under Bodhi would still grumble about it, especially Cedric Longshank. He was a particularly nasty sort, and he seemed to take some twisted personal offense to the mere presence of the Red Song as part of their small fleet.

    From her vantage point close to Otto on the aft-castle, Hygd saw the prepared pyre. If there was someone in the town that these soft-bellied southerners feared enough to burn alive, then perhaps there would be new allies to be found here as well as plunder.

    “Ready, old man?” Sigrun nudged Egil in the ribs, flashing him a too-wide grin and wild eyes while she slipped one of the axes from a belt-loop. While Egil wasn’t that old, Sigrun couldn’t have been more than seventeen winters. To a reaver like Egil, she was barely old enough to be off her mother’s teat.

    Spoiler: OOC
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    I was going to have the ship run aground here and start unloading the reavers on this post, but I’ve split it into two to give DrK and Morovir a chance to have Morgul and Groktur respond.

    While the Red Song hasn’t hit the beach yet, the water is still shallow enough that anyone who wanted to hop the railing and into the sea would be able to make it to shore without any need for a swim test. It would also save them a bit of time (a +2 circumstance to their initiative tests) when the slaughter begins.








    Grenhoff

    Nicoli Oleg

    The words of the man – accused and found guilty with no trial – seemed to incense the crowd even further, and the curses they were shouting at him were vile and filled with vitriol. These cowardly, soft men and women of the Empire were so enamoured with their own fear that they didn’t seem to care at all about any real semblance of justice. If they only knew that this time? They actually had found one who was guilty of the dark deeds they had believed of him.

    The sergeant smiled a grim smile at Nicoli as the two soldiers who held either arm dragged him towards the growing pile of wood around the stake.

    “Perhaps that may be so, but it will be a cold comfort to you in the Garden of Morr.” The Sergeant said.

    He turned to the crowd and spoke, voice raised loud above the jeering crowd. As the townsfolk heard him, they began to settle and listen.

    “People of Grenhoff! Tonight we appease mighty Sigmar in his unending quest to purge evil from His lands! This heathen scoundrel will feed the fire of his judgement.”

    The two soldiers led Nicoli up to the small set of wooden steps that had been placed before the tall wooden post. Now that he was closer, Nicoli could see the blackened scorch marks upon the wood. His would not be the first flesh purified by the fire here.
    "Even in these chains, you can't stop me!" - In This Moment, Big Bad Wolf

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    "You two have fun in the square. I'll take some men and make sure no one in that tower sneaks up to bugger you from behind," Lárus stage whispers to Egil and Sigrun, pointing his spear at the guard tower. "Hrodgar," he says to the closest reaver behind them. "Pass the word - I need ten men to storm the tower with me. See you on the beach!" he finishes with a fierce grin before vaulting over the side.

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    NecromancerGuy

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    The bound man looks into the crowd of hate. A Waste. People more happy to turn on eachother then try and form an actual defense. Make a pyre instead a wall. Waste there oil on a public pyre. Pathetic. "Kislev waste time protecting humans like you. Cowardly. Pathetic. Shuddering in your warm homess and taverns while other go and fight in war. They fight. And they die. Bones used as the foundation of the next settlers." His eyes turn to the crowd "The gods of Man do not care what happens to there followers. You walk a path destined to end in death. When the chaos and undead break your armies and pillage your towns, the bones of the people will be used as decorations, guts for food in troll belly." his eyes looks to the floor "The world is a wheel that will not stop turning...all one can do is be dragged by it"

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    Otto

    A speck on the map like this barely warranted a visit from the local magistrate, much less the attention of the Imperial Army. That there might be a garrison here was worrisome enough in itself; worse though, the unweathered stones of the tower suggested newer construction. Life was going to get harder if the Empire was spending the resources to fortify the coast.

    "Herger, Gunnar, you're with me. We're staying back to keep the boats safe and the beach clear. I want to be ready to get out of here the moment the rest are back." Those two wouldn't be happy about it, being left out of the main raiding, but safeguarding the landing and the ships was an important if unglamorous task. Besides, there would still be plenty to take from the fishing huts and small boats near the shore.
    07/03/2018: I’m back. The long break was necessary.

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    Ettin in the Playground
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    Egil idly watches the crowd gathered in the square. Who they were intending to burn was no business of his.To Lárus, 'Try to leave some for the rest of us.' He'd offer to go with him, but didn't think the boy needed the help. Egil had seen him fight before.

    The rest of them probably needed the practice. To Sigrun, 'Of course. Leave anyone who tries to make a fight of it to me.' It was always more fun when there was someone trying to kill you back.

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    As the ship closes in on the village, Groktur leans on his spear, and focuses on the pyre. Stupid humans. So concerned with finding the enemy within, that they forget to watch for the far more deadly threat. No matter. He would kill them, and the most worthy would find a place on his cloak.

    Testing his bow a final time, he lets out a braying roar and leaps over the side of the boat, before splashing his way to the shore, his spear grasped in both hands.

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    Morgul

    The shaman clutched the bray staff, shamanic fetishes, bones and scraps of feather trembling and shaking in the breeze. His thick matted fur kept out the cold and the worst of the salt spray although he detested this great expanse of water. Had he known that he would be on such a wooden thing surrounded by man-lings he would have questioned the wisdom of the gods. Still, the vision had been clear. Somewhere in these raids he would found the one touched by Neglish - the flyspeaker. All around the manlings chirped and squeaked in their strange tongue, he casts his eyes towards the beach and the small collection of hovels.

    His eyes widened, the reddish orbs glimmering with dangerous intent, with his witch sight he could see the swirling strands of Aqhsy surrounding the crowd, their rage attracting the wind like a moths to a flame. Though in the middle of it, a smudge of something else, Dhar tinged Ghyran, a corruption of life. Could this be the omens that were spoken of. His sharp eyes picked out the post, a burning, the manlings and their love if fire. Better when their bodies were savaged by beasts and their hovels were consumed by the wilds.

    Seeing how close they were to shore he brayed to himself, a shout of - "I want prisoner of manlings" to his fellow beast (Gorktur) the dark tongue harsh and unforgiving. After that he opened himself up to the swirling winds of magic, beseeching the dark gods to give him strength before he leapt off the prow of the boat, form twisting and shimmering, a smell of spice washing over the Red Song for a second as he sembled into a soaring black raven that swoopped low over the waves. Wings flapping hard he flew up and ahead of the Red Song preparing to alight beside the pyre after seeing the source of the swirling winds of darkness....

    Spoiler: OOC
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    Perception succeeds w/ 4 DoS to pick out "mr Mutant" and hoping that the 3 DoS on the magical sense can pick him out if he's related to the omens that Morgul had.
    As the boat closes he'll summon his Str with Blessing of the Master, then the rounds after will turn into a Raven
    The plan being that when the Reavers strke he'll alight beside our Nurgle mutant friend and hopefully surprise a guard and club him brutally with his Braystaff.



    Thanks to Emperor Ing for the nice Avatar

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    The Reavers of the Red Song

    Larus

    When Larus plunges into the cold waters of the Sea of Claws, he feels the chill shoot up his bones and into his head causing his muscles to tingle in anticipation. As he wades towards the shore, behind him, he can hear the splashes of more reavers following him out of the boat and up the surf.

    Larus catches sight of Hrodgar making his way alongside him, the thick-armed man with the braided mousey brown beard holding a round wooden shield and thick-bladed sword above the water. Quicker still, and wrapped in dark leathers is Ulf. The black-haired Norscan holding a horn bow in hand, black-fletched arrow knocked.

    They came from the black water silently, and slipped up into Grenhoff from behind a cluster of fisherman's huts on the west of town. There was only twenty or thirty meters between them and the roar of the townsfolk, but in the fevered clutch of mob violence they went unseen.

    Just ahead they could see the looming shape of the guard tower swiftly approaching, and Ulf whistled to get Larus' attention before pointing up towards the narrow rampart at the top. Silhouetted agains the fading light of the sun, Larus could see three men with muskets braced on their shoulders. They were leaning on the rampart, eyes turned down to the spectacle being put on before them.

    Had they been perhaps a bit more perceptive, they may have noticed the Red Song grind to a stop upon the shallow, sandy beach.

    Or the other longboats following suit moments later.


    Otto, Egil, Hygd, Groktur and Morgul

    Wearing a scowl beneath the thick and shaggy mustache that framed his mouth and ran up along the lines of his jaw, Gunnar hefted a pair of heavy iron maces and leaned against the railing of the aft-castle at Otto's instruction. Herger snatched a satchel of javelins from its resting place by the foremast and slung it over his shoulder.
    "Aye." Herger said, before pointing the tip of a javelin at the southern smuggler. "But I better still get my share of the plunder."

    Egil's boast was met with a resounding whoop from the reavers who still remained on the Red Song, not having followed Larus into the shoal. The whoops of anticipated battle were cut through by the braying of the dark-furred Bray-Shaman that had accompanied them. The inhuman sound rendered the inexperienced Norscans silent enough for Morgul to shout his demands across the deck.

    Only moments before the Red Song lurched and it ran aground, Groktur had plodded through the shallows and onto the beach. Before him, dozens of soft townsfolk were huddled in a large group as they jeered and cursed a man who was being led atop a small pile of corded wood where a stake awaited him.

    The Caprigor saw the men with coloured jackets and carrying halberds moving through the crowds at erratic intervals. The manlings had let their guard become very lax. Hearing the dark tongue shouted by the Bray-Shaman that served the Jarl cut through the battle thrill that was rising in Groktur.

    When the caravel bottomed out on the sand and shifted with a groan of wood, the reavers followed Egil and Groktur over the railing and onto the beach. Their own jeers and howls of excitement drowned out by the mob, masking their approach.

    Morgul felt the Amber winds of Ghur twisted with the Dhar that seeped from his body like oily smoke as they surrounded him, and pulled his mortal form into a furious flurry of oily black feathers. As he caught the wind and rose high above the small fishing town, he spotted the man being led up to the stake.

    The Bray recognized the hue of his skin and slant of his features. This was one of the Gospoda manlings from Kislev far to the east, and bordering on the ancestral lands of the Braven-Tooth and he wore the corruption of Dhar and Ghryan like a mantle.

    Groktur, Egil and the other reavers from the Red Song were nearly within charging distance when a mournful cry rose from the shores - a half-dozen twisted horns blaring the arrival of the other longships.

    As screaming death began to rush ashore behind them, the villagers began to turn one by one to see what the commotion was.

    A single halberdier stepped forward, eyes wide as he saw the shapes of Groktur hurtling towards him. "Attack! Attack!" He shouted in a panic. "We're under attack!"






    Grenhoff

    Nicoli Oleg

    Words that seemed like the ranting of a madman - a lunatic doomsayer - spilled across the crowds and seemed to incense them further. The line of halberdiers that formed a ring around the pyre had to hold the crowd back as they surged forward, trying to vent their fear onto Nicoli with violence. But the Imperial halberdiers held.

    The sergeant spat at Nicoli's feet, and began to rant at him again about Sigmar's justice, but the Kislevite's attention was suddenly drawn by a flicker of shadows passing swift as a snake between the houses to the west. He caught the glint of bared steel, and suddenly realized that out beyond the raging mob and down the sandy lane to the beach several black and scarlet-sailed ships were slipping quietly into town.

    Dark figures were spilling over the railing of the first ship to land, and moments later he heard the eerie howling cry of the warhorns.

    Norscans.
    "Even in these chains, you can't stop me!" - In This Moment, Big Bad Wolf

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    Morgul

    The shaman soared up, the cold wind battering and pulling at his wings as with a few powerful wing beats he streaked from just above the surf upwards into the night sky, eyes fixed on the village and the man who the Gods had spoken of tied to the stake. A strange creature but the Gods had spoken and in that they could not be disobeyed. He exulted in the freedom and the rush of the air for a moment before as the screaming started as the longships crashed upon the beach and Groktur outpaced the weak manlings beside him he dropped like a stone.

    Wings folding in he sembled as he landed, the crow rippling into a massive beastman behind the manling holding the gods-cursed prisoner hopefully shocking the man. The pyre beside him was not lit yet so he had not been to late and he landed behind the human, careful to use the sudden blaring of the reaver's horns to distract the human. He roared a great roar in the Dark tongue, uncaring if any of the reavers could understand "Blood for the Gods, feast on the manlings" as surrounded by the clouds of Ghur and the smell of spices from the shifting he brought the braystaff down in a massive blow on the human!


    Spoiler: OOC
    Show


    Actions
    Land behind the sergeantso there is no-esle behind Morgul and he's beside the Sgt and Nicoli. Change to beast as I land and try and clock him with my braystaff.

    Initiative (1d10+3)[12] (though hopefully get a suprise attack!)
    Half action: Guarded stance (he's a beast but he's not stupid )
    Half action: Smash the guard beside Nicoli (1d100)[23] TN 55 (hopefully +30 if he's surprised), Damage (2d10)[6][5](11)+3 (Impact quality so choose highest)
    9 damage to the guard's Right arm
    (if 10 then check for Ulric's Dark God's fury (1d100)[98] TN as above, extra damage (1d10)[8]

    Note: He's unsettling so the guard needs to pass WP or suffer -10% to hit him

    If I got a surprise round then excellent
    If I won the subsequent initiative then Morgul would hit him again
    Half: guarded stance
    Half: Attack [roll]1d100[roll] (roll of 15 see below) TN 55 (± any mods) Damage (2d10)[1][4](5)+3 = hopefully 7 to the left arm
    -- Dak God's Fury (1d100)[62] TN (as above) Extra dam (1d10)[8]

    On Guards Turn:-
    - Test for unsettling WP or -10% to attack Morgul
    Morgul Parry if hit (1d100)[11] TN 65
    Morgul Dodge against a potential second hit (1d100)[93] TN 38

    *Copied from OOC post

    Stats Summary
    WS BS Str Tou Ag Int WP Fel Move Wounds Fortune
    45 28 35 47 38 41 33 35 5 13/13 1/1
    55*

    Effects
    Blessing Dark Master (~9 rounds left)

    Equipment
    Equipped: Braystaff (2-hands, SB-1, Impact, Defensive, Slow)
    Belt: Axe, dagger


    Last edited by DrK; 2018-08-23 at 08:55 AM.
    Thanks to Emperor Ing for the nice Avatar

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Nicoli looks past the Sigmarites. The fools. Ignoring threats to douse there fears. Norscan long ships landing on the shore, a crow racing toward them "Doom comes. Thus, the wheel turns.".

    Then, the beastman itself forms behind the Captain, Curls horns and a bleeting roar causing him to recoil. He's fought these before but,,it still unsettled him seeing it so close. Hefting it's braystaff up...and striking his executioner? This was a curious turn of events. He wishes he had his rifle

  17. - Top - End - #17
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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Larus nods at Ulf, acknowledging that he has seen the musketeers. "We hold here for the moment. Let's see what they do when our friends start the slaughter in the square. If they come out to fight, we charge them and pin them against their own guardhouse. If they hide inside, we cut our way in with our axes. Ulf - think you can hit those shooters from here?" he asks, keeping his voice as low as possible.
    Last edited by rax; 2018-08-21 at 01:28 AM.

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    At the Shaman's roar Egil will look up and watch the Beastman fly overhead in his borrowed skin. 'Now what's he in such a hurry for?' As far as he could tell the creature had remained aloof from most of the raiders since they had left the north. Probably best to back him up if he needed it.

    With the sound of the horns even this vague attempt at stealth could be abandoned. Egil will finally draw his sword and shield 'Come on then.', he will shout at those around him before running after Groktur. He wasn't really in charge, but had enough experience to get away with directing them every now and then. For that reason he will try to keep his wits about him as he looks for likely targets.

    Spoiler: ooc
    Show

    Not frenzying yet. Perception test to look for anyone who looks like they're in charge of the soldiers
    vs. Per 30 /2
    (1d100)[97]


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    Goblin

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    As he lopes forwards, Groktur bellows and points his spear at the halberdier that sounded the alarm. This foolish softskin would be the first to fall to his blade.

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    The Reavers of the Red Song

    Larus

    The rest of the reavers settled low, hiding behind crates of grain and barrels of salted fish that had been stacked in the narrow pathways between the houses. Much of these goods could provide extra food for the tribe when the harshest months of winter came, and it wasn't entirely likely that a small fishing town would be overflowing with other wealth.

    Though, perhaps the folk would make good slaves.

    Ulf squinted his dark eyes as he looked up at the guards on the watchtower rampart for a moment, muttering softly to himself as he pondered the difficulties of the shot.

    "Aye, Larus." Ulf said in a raspy whisper. "Should'na be tha' difficult." The dark-leather clad Norscan raised his horn bow and pointed the black-fletched arrow at the first of the musketeers. He didn't draw the bow yet, waiting on a signal.

    From here, Larus could see the relatively straight path to the thick wooden door that would lead into the watchtower at ground level. It was solid and sturdy looking, and while it was open at the moment, it was obvious from the large wooden beams that were stored next to it that it could be barred with relative ease and would take more than the reavers had with them to batter it down if it came to it.

    There was some torchlight flickering from within, and shadows cast upon the surface of the open door indicated at least two more soldiers within.

    The rage-fuelled roar of the mob was quickly turning to screams after Larus heard someone shouting that they were under attack. The horns that heralded his fellows attack were still echoing across the town and the guards up on the ramparts were beginning to frantically gesture and shout warnings to rally the defenders of Grenhoff.


    Otto and Hygd

    The other longships had run aground flanking the Red Song and reavers and warriors were spilling from them. The largest, with a thick keel and the skull of some massive beast from below the waves upon the prow, slid in last. Perched upon the bow was the tall form of Bohdi Ymirsdottir. Easily one of the most tall women in the tribe, Bodhi cut an imposing presence as she raised her halberd into the air and led the rising howl of bloodlust that was swiftly spreading through the Norscans.

    She bore a gleaming breastplate with mail sleeves upon which the eight-pointed star of Chaos was roughly engraved over the faded heraldry of one of the Imperial Reiksgard knights. Her legs were clad in supple hide and furs and the sun, despite casting such long shadows, lit her fiery hair.

    "For Winterscorn!"






    Grenhoff

    Nicoli Oleg and Morgul

    Death had come on dark wings for the Sergeant of the Nordland Halberdiers, and the man's rant about Sigmar came to an abrupt end as a flurry of black feathers swiftly became the savage form of the Bray-Shaman. Bringing his thick, gnarled braystaff down on the sergeants right arm, the man screamed in rage - fumbling the flintlock pistol he had been drawing from his hip. As it fell, the sergeant staggered and his hob-nailed boot knocked the weapon clattering towards Nicoli.

    The two halberdiers who flanked the Kislevite gaped at the sudden arrival of the bray-shaman in their midst, their hands slipping from Nicoli's arms and nervously gripping at the wooden hafts of their halberds.

    The sergeant, grimacing in pain, reached for the narrow blade at his other hip in fear.


    Egil and Groktur

    Seeing the Caprigor hurtling towards him, the young halberdier who had shouted the warning brought his halberd up before him across his chest in an attempt to ward off any incoming attacks. Others were pushing through the crowd, trying to form into a line with their halberds levelled at the oncoming Norscans.

    Here and there, others were climbing atop crates and carts while raising their rifles to their shoulders in order to get a clear shot over the crowd. With a sudden, resounding staccato burst a number of the handgunners fired into the incoming Norscans. Several stumbled and staggered as the bullets found purchase, but on came the reavers.

    Groktur saw the whites in the young halberdiers eyes as he approached. He heard the shrill whistling as a hail of bullets flew overhead and into those reavers behind him. It looked as if the main body of the reavers would hit the forming line of halberdiers all around the caprigor warrior. They were about to be in the heart of the melee.

    Nearby, Egil and his companions led the charge of Norscans. The Red Song reavers would be the first of Bodhi's fleet to taste blood here in Grenhoff. Directly ahead, Egil saw a handful of halberdiers rushing to held their young companion that Groktur had been racing towards. With Sigrun at his heels, they charged into the small group of soldiers who were about to be caught beyond the defense of their lines.

    All around them, the other Winterscorn reavers ploughed into the halberdiers, who despite their poor overall performance in garrisoning Grenhoff, were able to form up with at least some professional expediency. The Norscan charge hit the line of braced pikes, and the ashen grey sands were suddenly blooded as a half-score of the reavers immediately went down under the halberds.

    But they pressed on, past the hafted weapons and in for the kill. Axes split coifed skulls and blades tore leather and spilt guts with equal ease.

    The Dark Gods would feast well tonight.
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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    "The gods are with us! Look, the tower door is still open - no need to wait for them to come to us. Ulf - start shooting to keep the gunners' heads down. The rest of us go - NOW!" Lárus hefts his spear and sets off at full speed, straight for the tower. "Wake the sleepers!" he roars as he nears the door.

    Spoiler: Actions
    Show
    Lárus will move as fast as possible to reach the tower before the defenders can close the door. If a Charge action will do it and allow him to attack a target inside, he'll do that. Otherwise he's just flat out running.

    Let me know which and I'll do any relevant dice rolling in the OOC thread this time around.
    Last edited by rax; 2018-08-22 at 03:17 PM.

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Nicoli takes his chance. The heat of battle, the beastman in front of the men, the Raiders attacking the shore. Surely, he would be low on the priorities. He dives down, taking the pistol from the ground and turning. Four potential enemies. A beast man, the Sargent, and the two soldiers. He holds the pistol ready...simply waiting for now


    Spoiler: Actions!
    Show

    At the moment he just used the surprise round to pick up the pistol since he's not sure if the Beastman is attacking him or not. Trying not show sides just yet


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    Goblin

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Charging into the halberdier, Groktur swings his spear with furious abandon.

    Spoiler: Actions:
    Show
    Charge action against the halberdier: (1d100)[22] TN 50 (WS 40 + 10 for Charge)
    FP reroll: (1d100)[20]

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Otto

    "Aye, you'll get your fair share. There'll be plenty for all." It wasn't like Otto was going to get in the way of these raiders doing whatever they pleased anyway. His acute sense of self-preservation discouraged such foolishness.

    As the ships bite into the beach, Otto leaps out on to the sand with axe in hand. "Alright! We get the ships ready to launch, then we take every damn thing that we can carry!" With the help of the others who had been assigned to guard their respective ships, it was quick work to make ready.

    With their escape secured, Otto moves toward the docks and fishing huts to begin looting.

    Spoiler: Actions
    Show
    Moving no more than a full-round movement away from the ships.
    Perception: (1d100)[59] vs 36
    Last edited by Space Lawyer; 2018-08-22 at 04:14 PM.
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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    As he charges the closest enemy Egil will bellow as loudly as he can. Not everyone would be willing to stand up to a Norscan charge, but those who did would likely make a better fight.

    Spoiler: ooc
    Show

    Full Action - Charge the closest soldier
    Free Action - Intimidate against whoever Egil charges
    Free Action - Parry

    Attack
    vs. WS 36 (+10 Charge) (Fortune point in the ooc also failed)
    (1d100)[63]
    Any damage
    (1d10+3)[4]

    Ulric's Fury if relevant
    vs. WS 36 (+10 Charge)
    (1d100)[75]
    Any extra damage
    (1d10)[4]

    Intimidate
    vs. Str 31 (+10 for Menacing)
    (1d100)[8]

    Parry the first successful attack
    vs. 36 (+10 Shield)
    (1d100)[70]


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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    The Red Song Reavers

    Otto and Hygd

    Otto, Hygd, Gunnar and Herger were kicking in the doors to the hovels immediately upon the beach, looking for treasure or anything valuable to pillage. The Winterscorn and Red Song reavers had massed on the beach, fighting against the line of Imperial halberdiers. Still on higher vantage points, the handgunners were frantically loading and firing into the fray. But for the moment, the reavers bulk would prevent any of the Imperial soldiers from pressing down to the beach to engage the looters.

    Otto caught sight of Bodhi cleaving an arm from a halberdier as her rime-encrusted halberd cut through the haft of the man’s weapon and through the leather of his sleeve.

    Most of the hovels at the beach held footstuffs; barrels of raw fish from the day’s catch and, more pleasantly, one of the better constructed huts was filled to the brim with large oak kegs of ale and several clay casks of wine from the Imperial southlands.




    Larus

    At Larus’ command, Ulf drew back the black-fletched arrow in his horn bow and let fly.
    There was a sharp yelp of pain as the arrow sunk deep into the soldiers chest but the sound was cut off abruptly as he staggered, then toppled to the side – dropping his rifle with a clatter to the stone rampart below him.

    Larus led the rest of the reavers towards the guard tower, and stormed through the open door with a roar. There were three soldiers within, all hastily gathering their halberds from where they rested in a wooden rack along the far wall. There were open kegs of ale, half-eaten chickens, salted fish and a large wheel of pale yellow cheese upon the table.

    The Norscans flooded the guard tower, quickly swamping the Imperial soldiers. Larus himself led the charge, spear lancing out to try and catch the closest one. He saw Hrodgar beside him, weapon flashing. The halberdier managed to bring the haft of his polearm up and knocked the Hrodgar's weapon askew before bringing the bladed head down in an vicious strike that slipped past Larus’ defenses and clipped the Norscan’s left leg. In return, Larus' spear had caught the halberdier in the knee - and the man cried out in pain and alarm as he felt the spear-tip shatter bone and rend tendons - splattering blood against the flagstone

    He could feel the heat of his blood running down his leg, even his companions surged around him, blades flashing and blood flying.


    Egil and Groktur

    The young halberdier was on the verge of panic as Groktur drove his spear towards him. He tried desperately to bring his polearm up to deflect the oncoming attack but to no avail. A cry of anguish rose above the din of battle as Groktur’s spear tore through muscle and tendon in the young man’s right shoulder. With one hand gripping the haft of his halberd, he tried to jab the sharp spike upon the end into Groktur, but the Beastman deflected the blow with a bellow of rage.

    Nearby, Egil and his companions had caught up to the staggered line of halberdiers who were coming to the young man’s rescue. Egil’s bellow set them off-kilter, and the halberdiers momentum seemed to falter. Taking the initiative, Egil charged the closest but the skittish Imperial soldier was able to stumble out of the way of the blow. He managed to recover his footing enough to spear the halberd forward, catching Egil under his shield and driving the point into the flesh of Egil’s side above his hip.

    The pain was bearable, but he felt hot blood run from the wound, incensing him further.


    Morgul and Nicoli

    Chaos had come to Grenhoff it seemed, as the Norscans renewed their pressed assault on the line of halberdiers. The Imperial soldiers seemed to be flagging already under the relentless attacks. Nicoli it seemed was now forgotten in the midst of the carnage unfolding before him, as the two halberdiers who had been dragging him up to the stake turned their aggression against the terrifying Beastman shaman before them.

    The shaman struck the Sergeant again with the heavy, gnarled staff – his arm bent at an unnatural angle from the strength of the blow. The man was whimpering pitifully on his knees, all the wrath and pride he had been showing Nicoli now gone in the face of true opposition.

    One of the halberdiers jabbed forward with the point of his polearm, but Morgul swatted the weapon away with a braying howl in the man’s face. Unfortunately, it had opened the shaman up to attack by the other halberdier, who bull-rushed the Beastman and tried to force him off the platform they were scuffling on. But the Ruinous Powers had their eyes upon Morgul for the haft of the polearm snapped when thrust at him, leaving the halberdier unarmed.
    Last edited by Erulasto; 2018-08-23 at 03:16 AM.
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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Morgul

    The shaman felt the heat of battle rising in him as he savoured the cracking of bones from the manling's arm. The braystaff shuddered as he thrust aside the blow from the other manling and he roared in the face of the man who's halberd broke, disgusting discoloured spittle spraying in the militia man's face. Spinning the staff he bellowed at the strange man chosen by the gods who had picked up the human's firearm. "KILL THEM!" he roared at Nicoli in the crude Dark Tongue, gesturing to the guard's now with their backs to the corrupted little human.

    Focusing back on the fight he beat his chest to show off his strength before spinning the staff in a deliberate manner to ward off blows swung at the wounded man seeking to snuff out his life and claim another soul. The man's scalp looking like it would make a fine ornament for his belt and his skull a fine drinking gourd.

    Spoiler: OOC
    Show


    Half Action: Parrying Stance
    Half Action: hit the wounded Sergeant - no mercy from this beastman!
    Attack (1d100)[41] TN55 Damage (2d10)[1][2](3)+3
    (If Dark's Gods Fury (1d100)[2] TN55, extra damage (1d10)[2]

    Note: They can test vs the unsettling each turn to avoid the -10% WS/BS penalty

    On Guards Turn:-
    Morgul Parry if hit (1d100)[9] TN 65 (prioritising armed guy vs unarmed if applicable)
    Morgul Dodge against a potential second hit (1d100)[74] TN 38


    Stats Summary
    WS BS Str Tou Ag Int WP Fel Move Wounds Fortune
    45 28 35 47 38 41 33 35 5 13/13 1/1
    55*

    Effects
    Blessing Dark Master (~8 rounds left)

    Equipment
    Equipped: Braystaff (2-hands, Impact, Defensive, Slow)
    Belt: Axe, dagger




    EDIT: computer issues so deleted the second copy of this post
    Last edited by DrK; 2018-08-23 at 09:19 AM.
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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Nicoli looked over the raid, the people who had formerly tried to burn him at the stake now being broken from the Bray staff of a beastman. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of battle, axes clashing against the arms of the Empire. These people feared the warth of chaos, and were now reciveing it. Yet...They had forgotten about the mutant they seeked to burn. Too focused on his beastman rescuer. It is only natrual he repay the favor.

    He pulls back the hammer on the pistol, leveling it to the halbadier with a weapon still, his hand steady, he fires

    Spoiler: Actiond and rolls!
    Show

    Aiming and firing at the still armed halbadier!
    (1d100)[66] VS BS 56
    (1d10+4)[12] Damage! (1d10+4)[12] Impact

    (1d100)[39] VS BS 56 if Ulric's Fury comes out
    (1d10+4)[8] Or (1d10+4)[5]

    Parry (1d100)[64] vs 43
    Dodge blow (1d100)[45] vs 33



    Last edited by Shadowflick; 2018-08-23 at 09:26 AM.

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    "A leg for a leg!" Lárus shouts, laughing like a maniac as the adrenaline hits. Then he feels it, the rumbling deep in his gut, accelerating uncontrollably up his throat. Still laughing, he unleashes a thunderous belch, and with it an expanding cloud of thick, choking gas that soon envelops himself and anyone near him. Unhindered by the gas, he aims two quick spear thrusts at the soldier - one high, one low.

    Spoiler: Actions and mutations!
    Show
    The attack from the soldier activates Lárus' Uncontrollable Belching mutation!
    The cloud centres on Lárus and covers an area 6 yards in diameter. That should easily cover anyone in melee or otherwise adjacent to him. Anyone at the edge of the cloud (partially covered by the template, in game terms), may roll an Agility test to leap out of the way.

    Gas effect (1d10)[8] = Noxious (everyone except Lárus that breathes in the fumes must succeed on a Challenging (-10) Toughness test or halve their Strength for 1d10 rounds)
    Remains potent for (1d5)[3] rounds
    Each round that it remains potent, the gas drifts 2 yards. I assume this happens at the end of each round, so next round, the gas cloud moves (1d10)[5] = directly to the left/west.

    Full action: Swift attack with spear, (1d100)[30] and (1d100)[85] vs. WS 40
    (1d10+4)[10] and (1d10+4)[13] damage
    Attempts to parry or dodge spear attacks are a -10

    Ulric's Fury if applicable:
    (1d100)[35] and (1d100)[91] vs. WS 40
    (1d10+4)[5] and (1d10+4)[12] damage

    Assuming Lárus is attacked, he will parry the first successful attack and then dodge if successfully attacked again:
    (1d100)[23] vs. WS 50 (40+10 from shield)
    (1d100)[13] vs. Ag 26 (-10 due to mail armour)

    Attack result summary:
    1 successful hit, 10 damage, no Ulric's Fury
    1 successful parry, 1 successful dodge

    Wounds (remaining/total): 7/11
    Fortune Points (used/total): 1/3
    Last edited by rax; 2018-08-23 at 11:03 AM.

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    Default Re: WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

    Egil will grin in appreciation for his opponent's efforts before trying to cut him down.

    Spoiler: Khorne cares not from where the blood flows
    Show


    Full Action - All Out Attack

    vs. WS 36 (+20 All Out Attack)
    (1d100)[70]
    Fortune Point if needed
    (1d100)[66]

    Damage
    (1d10+3)[13]

    Khorne's fury if relevant
    vs. WS 36 (+20)
    Damage
    (1d10)[1]


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