Prologue
Josef Bugman looked around the abandoned brewhouse with an apprising eye: the pipes were in disrepair and the vats cracked by the recent attack, but the kettle was sound, the cellars intact and the water up here was good. With enough time, he could cook up a decent little beer. But time was something he no longer had. None of them did.
"Last round, lads! Get it while you can." his sergeant, Snorri Budweiserson, was serving out the company's tankard on a long trestle table. Mugs of beer on one end, rows of throwing axes on the other. He wondered which would run out first.
Bugman accepted the mug and quaffed down a mouthful of Old Legend. Snorri did the same and they both let out long, contemplative belches.
"Don't seem right to me, chief," Snorri began. "Hunting the Kazaki'dum is one thing, but why do we have to put ourselves in the middle of this fight?"
"The end is coming," said Bugman, the ale lending him farsight. "All we can do is join one fight or another."
"But why risk our lives for a tanglebeard like Stonehammer?" Snorri insisted. "We know the Kazaki'dum are being led by the survivor of Gallery #114. I heard rumour that it was no accident. They say that Stonehammer deliberately sealed the tunnel because of an argument with this Phlothos. He condemned sixteen dwarves to their deaths just to settle a feud."
"So they do say," said Bugman, walking slowly to the stone window frame. There was movement along the north end of the pass: a great horde of Kazaki'dum, accompanied by their monsters and war engines. Battle was about to be joined.
"So if this Phlothos wants revenge, I'd say Helgvist has it coming."
Bugman lined up his crossbow bolts, one after another, in a row on the window still. A huge, diseased monster on decaying leathery wings had just flapped to the front of the army and bellowed out a challenge in broken Khazalid.
"We all got it coming, laddie."
The Legend Reaches Its Height!
It's All-Skype Fight Night!
I, Stylus, will be fielding Dwarves as the final gatekeeper to his quest.
And I, Kraken, will bring Phlothos to his final resting place, amongst the legends in the hearts and minds of
Totting up the points over the last six battles, it seems that I need a very solid win to come out triumphant. Tough, but not impossible...
We're playing by our usual house rules (although refinements to the magic system are moot, as you will see), but have ramped up the scale to a finale-shattering 2,000pts. We'll be using boasts, and also the addition of 'anti-boasts' to encourage both warlords to finish this in the proper style.
- Dwarf anti-boast: -100VPs if Phothos is targeted by any war machine
- Warriors of Chaos anti-boast: -100VPs if Helgvist (or his unit) is targeted by magic
Prepare to strike out the grudge!
Armies
The Children of Phlothos
Egil, Phlothos' First Son, Exalted Hero of Nurgle - BSB, Mark of Nurgle, Shield, Dawnstone, Palanquin of Nurgle
36 x Marauders - Full Command, Mark of Nurgle, Great Weapons
15 x Chaos Warriors - Full Command, Mark of Nurgle, Shields, Gleaming Pennant
1 x Chaos Chariot - Mark of Nurgle
5 x Marauder Horsemen - Mark of Slaanesh, Shields, Spears, Throwing Axes
5 x Putrid Blightkings - Mark of Nurgle, Banner of Swiftness
1 x Chimera - Regenerating Flesh
Wot no magic?
You read that right. A three-fold bit of reasoning in my army selection there (three more than I usually do).
- Dwarves are very good at dispelling, and I'd bet my eye teeth that Stylus will be packing some Runesmiths with various spell-killing dampeners
- Sorcerers are expensive, and I'm going to need a very solid combat line to get through the incoming fire and crack some tough nuts
- Every time Stylus and I play, we seem to roll an average of one Dimensional Cascade each and I can't afford any explosions this time
Given that the Dwarves won't have any spells, I decided to match them. This way, I'd get a threefold return!
- No Dimensional Cascades
- I can't possibly fail to get 100 VPs for my anti-boast
- Stylus will have wasted any Runesmith Dispel points, causing him irritation and boosting my smugness levels - a morale advantage!
Plus have enough points for really quite a lot of Chaos Troops. Fast stuff to get the war machines, tough stuff to stamp on dwarves and ridiculous stuff to daze and confuse with (the Putrid Blightkings. I strongly suspect, having read the Prologue, that there will be a Bugload of Rangers in the tower on the midline. Blightkings are good at building assaults - they're only infantry, so you can pack up to ten in through the door when assaulting, another excellent example of GW rules nonsense).
The Last Stand of Clan Garn
Josef Bugman - Ol' Trustworthy, Bugman's Tankard, Dwarf Crossbow, Gromril Armour, Shield.
Lord Ukedag, Thane - Battle Standard, Gromril Armour. Shield. Rune of Parrying. Rune of Stone.
Master Ferie, Runesmith - Gromril Armour. Rune of Spellbreaking (2)
23 x Longbeards - Full Command, Shields, Heavy Armour. Runic Standard (Rune of Slowness)
10 x Quarrellers - Dwarf Crossbow, Heavy Armour. Great Weapons.
18 x Hammerers - Full Command, Great Weapons, Heavy Armour.
1 x Cannon - Light Armour
1 x Grudge Thrower - Light Armour
15 x Bugman's Rangers - Full Command, Great Weapons, Dwarf Crossbow, Throwing Axes, Heavy Armour.
 |
| Proxied by mostly elves, sadly. Apart from Bugman and his Rangers, played tonight by Thorin and Co. and led by the Dwarf from Warhammer Quest. |
So naturally, I did none of that. You don't end a campaign of this epicness with missile troops. If I was going to kill Pholthos, it would be in hand-to-hand combat. My plan revolved around getting a kitted-out Dwarf Lord into combat with the Deamon Prince.
I started with Helgvist himself: a full Dwarf Lord, with shieldbearers, and tooled-up with as many runes as I was allowed (half of them specific to Phlothos only). Supporting him were the obligatory BSB and Runesmith with spelleater runes (I'd not faced End Times magic as Dwarves, so wanted to be braced for impact).
For infantry, I took a unit of Hammerers for the King, and Longbeards for the BSB. Since I'd be facing Marks of Nurgle all over the place, I didn't want to concede any more through a lower WS, although I was only expecting the Hammerers to hit hard, the Longbeards with shields were for survivability.
A unit of Quarrellers were just there to make up my Core requirement - I didn't want to go heavy on the missile weapons, but I'm sure there would be some chaff to aim at.
My only concession to war machines was a Cannon and Grudge Thrower - although I didn't have any points remaining for engineering runes on them.
And finally, my luxury item was Bugman and his Rangers. I've never used them before - they're expensive models, but with Great Weapons, Crossbows and Throwing Axes (and decent stats to boot), they're loaded for action.
Deployment
A Battle for the Pass, so we're fighting down the length of the table. The field is set up to represent the shattered main gates of Clan Garn's Hearthhold - there are two big holes in the otherwise impassable walls, with a gate in the middle you can also move through.
The swamp to the North is an Earthblood Mire, although I'll be marching away from it swiftly. The Statue on the southern hill is a Dwarven Ancestor (read 'Idol of Gork and/or Mork), for re-rolled charges.
And the Tower on the Middle is a Modified Dwarven Brewery, with experimental Ale Taps:
The fine ale stored here is kept in a pressurised copper vat, capable of serving it ice cold on demand. A fine piece of engineering, but a temperamental one.
Models occupying the building may, at the start of any turn, choose to drink the icy amber ale. If they do so, they become Stubborn for that turn, or Unbreakable if they're Dwarves. Dwarves must also pass a Ld test at -3 to move out of the building and risk leaving it to others.
However, if the ale pump is turned on, there's a chance it might malfunction. On a roll of 5+, place the large template over the building and scatter it d6 inches in the normal manner (a roll of a Hit! means it stays put). Any unit touched by the template takes 2d6 S10 hits as they get flooded with liquid nitrogen.
A simple enough deployment for me: combat units nestled between the buildings, set a little way back. The cannon and grudge thrower went further back, since they have ample range, and on opposite ends, so at least they can't get cascaded by war machine hunters.
The Rangers went into the ruined tower (during the battle, I had thought they were in the brewhouse, but no matter), directly in the path of the Chaos advance. They were an expensive speedbump, but I was hoping would do some damage before being winkled out.
So the plan was to thin out the advancing forces, focussing on the fast and flanking elements, then let the combat blocks go head-to-head. I had a Rune of Slowness and an Idol of Gork, so I was hopeful of getting off a charge if they advanced too carelessly.
I knew what I wanted to do. Get through the holes in the wall and get into melee as fast as possible. With one flyer on each side of the line and the big combat blocks facing gaps, I was all set.
And a good thing too - I got first turn!
 |
| North is on the left! Note that the Rangers are inside the ruined tower rather than the brewing vat that the maps show, not that it made any difference at any point |
Warriors of Chaos - Turn 1
At last! The colours of the Garn Guard were visible in the light of dawn. With a miasmatic belch, Phlothos signalled the attack.
What a sight his troops made on the move! The finest survivors of their testing battle with the mercenaries, some clad in rust-spackled plate taken from the Tileans. Others goading mistreated horses into a gallop or lashing screaming drawhorses.
All of them chanted, following the sonorous call of the champion Egil as he cried his father's name over and over. The chant was only mildly disrupted as they entered a thicket of tangled thorn. Whatever the dwarves had smeared over the plants, it made even a small scratch rapidly lethal, as a handful of them learned to their cost.
Youth, Phlothos thought. They shall learn the value death by poison in time.
Leathern wings took their latest chimera straight through the broken walls and towards a cannon tower. The creature was an amalgam of several hapless farm animals and wild beasts Phlothos had personally birthed only a few nights before,
Chortling, Phlothos swooped towards the enemy lines alongside his swift-riding horsemen. A few of the Slaaneshi cultists had returned, eager as ever to savour the joys of riding to death. Behind them, the repulsive shapes of Phlothos' most favoured sons loped towards the ruined inn that stood next to the gate.
As they did, a flurry of broad-bladed axes tumbled out of the upper storey. One of the massy warriors collapsed, spurting ichor over his fellows. As they reached the doorway, a number of stout, swift figures emerged from the shadows within. A swift melee developed, before the Blightkings were driven back, leaving a second of their number dead in the door. A dwarf bearing a glowing axe laughed grimly at their retreat, swigged a tankard of ale, and vanished back inside.
No matter, Phlothos thought. King Stonehammer was cowering amidst his bodyguard ahead. That was where his attention lay.
Dwarves - Turn 1
"That's the way, lads. Kick some axe!" Bugman nodded approvingly as another of the bloated warriors fell with a trio of throwing axes buried in his guts.
Things were under control on this flank. Ambling to the opposite window, Bugman looked out at the Daemon Prince and his escort of light cavalry. The horsemen were already tumbling out of their saddles in a shower of crossbow bolts, but the old ranger had different quarry in mind. Taking careful aim, he loosed a crossbow bolt that glanced the enemy general, whipping the magical shield from his grasp.
Bugman treated himself to a celebratory tot. He hadn't intended to wound the creature, but without that shield the path was cleared for Helgvist to strike. "Did you see that shot?" he asked his lads. "Can you imagine a better shot?"
In the far distance, he saw a puff of blackpowder smoke, and then the Chimera exploded in chunks of pulsating flesh.
"Nice shot," he admitted.
Warriors of Chaos - Turn 2
They were close enough to charge now. Phlothos leapt up and glided in towards the regiment of crossbows on the hill, blotting out the morning sun with his shapeless wings.
Bolts rose in a stately arc to meet him, and pattered off his scaled hide like pebbles.
The remaining Slaaneshi horse slammed into the crew of the warmachine, leaving them butchered in seconds.
The Warriors and Egil's Marauders were both past the wall, with the chariot keeping pace with them. Even if the poisoned wood had bled the cultists, there were still plenty left.
The two remaining Blightkings charged the tower a second time, but to even less effect. Again, the rune-bearer commanding the ambushers drove them back, and again they left a corpse in the door as they retreated.
Phlothos took a double handful of crossbow dwarves and tossed them in the air like dying leaves. His throaty laughter reverberated round the rotted ramparts of the Hearthold like a fart in a cathedral. That crossbows kept fighting bothered him not at all - he had plenty of time to kill the lot of them.
Dwarves - Turn 2
Bugman couldn't believe his eyes. What fool orders a charge from a defensive position like that? But sure enough, Helgvist had staggered forward with his bodyguard, and the clan veterans had stumbled alongside them. Either way, the charge had failed and now both units were horribly exposed.
"Forget that last one!" he shoved his rangers away from where the surviving warrior was reeling back from the last assault. They needed to limit the damage coming into Clan Garn. "Nail the chariot!"
A shower of throwing axes thumped into the chariot, smashing wheels and maiming horses. By some unearthly power, the machine held on, but it was sorely wounded.
The cannon puffed out smoke again, this time scything through three of the Chaos Warriors who had just passed through the gate.
In answer for such outrage, the Deamon Prince pounded the remaining Quarrellers into gravy, then turned to face the exposed dwarven regiments.
Bugman started patting down his pockets. He needed another drink. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for this.
Warriors of Chaos - Turn 3
One last charge from the last Blightking standing. A throwing axe took him in the neck as he roared in. Phlothos felt him die, the juicy strand of his given favour snapping back to him with a shock.
"Charge!" he shouted. "Come, my children, come and see the wrath of your father!"
Across the line, his warriors pelted forward.
Dwarven runes shimmered and glowered in the shieldwall ahead. The chariot slipped backwards, wheels throwing up a spray of muck as channelled energy pushed against it. The starved horses pulling it all but collapsed in place, and the drivers whipped them furiously. But it didn't help, they weren't going anywhere.
But the runic effect couldn't hold the tide. The unit of Chaos Warriors, splendid in their looted mail, slammed into the front rank of the Garn Veterans even as Phlothos waded into their side. And beyond that, Egil stood proud in the seat of his very own Palanquin, bubbling bearers waddling rapidly under him as he led the Cult of Plague against the Dwarf King.
Hammers and axes crashed and fell in disciplined response.
The mightiest of the chaos warriors howled for a duel against the bearer of the Clan Garn standard. His sword sliced and sparked against the dwarf's mail, knocking him backwards if not killing him. Shocked by the failure of his armour, the thane failed to land a blow in return.
Phlothos rooted around in the unit, pulling dwarves up by their beards and knocking them against the nearby ancestral monument like weeds. They had nothing to match him and they knew it, focussing grimly on the warriors to their fore. But even there, their hammers proved no match for the spoiled Tilean steel. Grimly, they held. It was all they could do.
Egil, tall on his throne, bore down on King Helgvist and his shieldbearers. Phlothos knew it was a one-sided match. The young peasant was mighty indeed, true, and full in the blessings given to him. No match for the dour dwarf king, however. Phlothos felt a surge of pride for his offspring, embracing the inevitability of death with such open arms. And perhaps he would manage to keep Stonehammer busy for long enough for Phlothos to avenge his child.
Egil stuck his axe into one of the King's carriers, breaking off a chunk of blade in the dwarf's helm. The King's shield lurched so violently as the warrior fell that none of Helgvist's attacks did more than chip the already-battered palanquin in return.
Dwarves - Turn 3
It was always hard leaving a brewhouse, but that wasn't going to get the job done. "Everyone out!" Bugman ordered, "and let's make sure of that chariot!"
The throwing axes cartwheeled through the air once again - he was lucky his lads had brought so many - and broke apart the last pieces of the chariot.
Over in the opposite tower, he could see the cannon crew desperately trying to clear a blockage in the muzzle. Their good fortune, it appeared, had now deserted them.
The same could be said for the Longbeards, who were being mown down between the Chaos Warriors and Phlothos himself. They held on with characteristic stoicism, refusing to compromise the flank of their king.
Meanwhile, Helgvist had regained his composure and dealt a wound to his enemy while taking none in return. Embolded, the Hammerers fought harder, dealing twice as many blows as they received. But the enemy were still too numerous, and could not be pushed back.
Bugman suppressed a belch, and wondered what hope there could be for Clan Garn.
Warriors of Chaos - Turn 4
The Slaaneshi horse streaked across the back lines of the dwarves, levelling their spears as they drove towards the flank of King Helgvists's Hammerers. Slowly, Phlothos tried to keep pace with them, but the cursed dwarves kept getting tangled round his ankles and slowing him up.
Between his greasy thighs, the thane with Garn's Great Rune fell to the relentless sword of the Chaos Champion. The warrior held the dwarf's head up as tribute to Phlothos, who wasn't too distracted to pat it and bless the offering, but his mind was elsewhere.
Egil was winning.
Somehow, between his desire to impress his father and the ineptitude of the Dwarven King, the peasant was finding the chinks in the gromril. Axe blow after axe blow slammed against Helgvist. And all round him, the massed ranks of marauders were taking a terrible toll on the elite bodyguard.
They might have better weapons. Better armour, better discipline, better courage. But how could you fight foes who would deliberately use their own death to tangle your weapon, so their reeking comrades could avenge you?
"The King is wounded!" one bearded champion called.
"Protect the King!" took up another.
"To the Hearthold! Fall back!" cried a third. Helgvist tried to shout them down, but Egil stunned him with a cracking blow to the side of the head. His own warriors dragged him back, and then the Slaaneshi horse took them in the side.
Carnage. And in its midst, the Dwarf King fell.
Dwarves - Turn 4
"No matter what happens," Bugman roared to his rangers, "we have to kill that Deamon Prince!"
The cannon crew appeared to be of the same thought. Deciding their earlier orders not to target Phlothos could now be set aside, given that Helgvist was in no position to reprimand them, they loaded up with blackpower and let fly at the Daemon Prince.
The aim was true, and yet the iron ball ricochetted off the Deamon's thick skull. As the monster reeled in angry surprise, the Rangers lobbed more throwing axes. Most rebounded against its thick hide, though one axe splattered home in a gout of green ichor.
'Kill Phlothos.' Bugman thought ruefully that over the past few months, every race in the world had attempted to do just that, and not one had even come close.
Warriors of Chaos - Turn 5
Egil rumbled on towards the dwarves operating the tower cannon, calling for his followers to muster behind him. The horsemen looped round his flank, flinging stolen axes at the tower. Somehow, one found its mark, and a crewman died as he peeked out through a slotted window.
Phlothos swooped slowly back from the remains of the defenders. It was almost sad to see them fighting on, these fierce little beings. Determined not to die when such a determination was so futile.
On wretched wings, he passed over the rangers as they lined up outside the inn. He slammed to the ground - their escape was cut off. They had nowhere to go. Even so, they still stood in place, flinging their lethal throwing axes at the charging chaos warriors.
Head cocked, Phlothos watched them fight with something approaching pity. Still glowing from Phlothos's recent praise, the champion took on the redoubtable leader of the Rangers. Nothing he tried penetrated the ranger's defence, and the counterstrokes were fierce. Only by sacrificing his shield to a two-handed swing did the champion survive.
Around the duellists, the rangers swung or fell. It made no difference. They were doomed.
Dwarves - Turn 5
There would be no more artillery support. Even in the midst of his combat, Bugman could see the remaining crew step forward to defend their war machine with rammer and priming spike.
He was going to die, sure enough, but he wasn't going to die at the hands of this foetid warrior. Not with the dwarf army standard still wrapped around his chest as a trophy.
Bugman let the champion make his move, then beat aside the attacks and struck him down.
The other rangers were unable to follow his example, but nonetheless sang their deathsongs cheerily as their numbers fell to the warriors' blades.
Now this, thought Bugman, this was an end worth a song. And maybe a pint.
Warriors of Chaos - Turn 6
Watching the champion fall, Phlothos sighed. Time to end this. He had things to attend to, after all.
He stamped forward.
"You!" he called to the furious little ranger. "You have slain my boy. How fare you against an angry father?"
The ranger never blenched, just hefted his axe and prepared to fight. Chuckling at the predictably dwarven response, Phlothos picked him up and twisted his head off, then dropped the flopping body back on his comrades. Horrified, they lost heart. And his warriors chopped them down.
It was done.
Clan Garn was finished.
Result
17:3 to Warriors of Chaos
(2474 : 1122 in old money)Epilogue
"Egil! Come forth, that I may see my son!"
Phlothos towered over the palanquin. Egil knelt humbly, dipping his head.
"I bring you the head of your foe, my father," he said, holding up Helgvist's crowned brow.
Phlothos gently cupped one hand and took the gift. The other, he laid gently on his son's back. The three-fingered warty claw almost covered the boy.
"Ah, my boy," he said. "You have done well."
Phlothos looked up. The waiting ranks of his host stood in the smouldering ruins of Garn's Hold, silently watching their master. If any dwarves survived, they had fled too early or deep for the slaughter to touch them. The clan was smashed, the king dead. His revenge was taken.
His revenge had been taken for him.
"Too well," Phlothos said. "Did I not tell you, son, not to touch your father's things?"
His claw tightened, warping energy lighting up the bones and flesh beneath.
"This," he shouted, holding up the broken pate of King Helgvist, "was not yours to take! It was mine! It should have been mine!
"I marched across the Old World to slay this dwarf," he told his legion. "He killed my first family! I raised a new one, a warrior kin, and they killed a thousand to help me reach him. I lost them too, to the rabble this King threw in my way! And in losing them, I lost the last bounds of mortality and became what you see now, your god. Your father!"
"And now you take my vengeance away from me? You dare?" His voice became a scream. His claw unclenched.
Egil was a pulsing ruin, an oozing creature of slime and knotted limbs that piped and squeaked in mindless horror. It tumbled from the throne, and Phlothos stepped on it, watched as it broke under his hoof.
Then he looked up. His warhost stared back, silent and shocked.
"Run, my children," he said. "Daddy is very angry."
Final Campaign Score
Stylus
|
Kraken
|
|
12
|
8
|
|
8
|
12
|
|
11
|
9
|
|
17
|
3
|
|
17
|
3
|
|
4
|
16
|
|
3
|
17
|
72: 68 to the opposing forces
 |
| Thorin died in the film too. |
Strike out that grudge!
Elves? My army was proxied by elves? And is that a goblin war machine at the back? Well, that explains everything, and clearly the only performers of the night were the Rangers represented by full-bearded dwarves (and Poldark!).
A very fun, if somewhat brutal and often beard-gnawingly frustrating, game. My downfall came, as it has in the past, when I got over-eager and tried to charge with my dwarf units. I needed better than average rolls, and failed to do so. I would have been much better edging backwards and allowing my Rune of Slowness to do its work, before committing to charge.
The other big mistake was not shifting Helgvist over to the Longbeards unit when I had the chance. The Dwarf King was geared up to fight Phlothos, and only Phlothos (as evidenced by his failure against the Exalted Hero - his weapon runes were useless). Getting him into combat was my best chance of killing the Daemon Prince - not that Kraken needed to charge the unit, but I suspect the sense of occasion would have persuaded him.
The Longbeards took a while to grind down, so they did their job. The Hammerers were surprisingly ineffective, although that damn Mark of Nurgle always messes with my combat. And though I was unlucky to roll an 11 for my break test, I wasn't making much headway against the Marauders and was about to get a Daemon Prince in the flank.
The Cannon had a fantastic start, wiping out the Chimera in a single shot. It then let itself down by misfiring twice (oh, how I wish I'd bought enginneering runes instead of a Runesmith) and then, when I went for broke and shot at Phlothos, failing to wound him (the roll of '1' cost me 100VPs in anti-boast).
And those damn Marauder Horsemen - first they make three '6' saves to avoid getting wiped out by my crossbow volley, then wipe out my Grudge Thrower before it can fight back, then turn the tide of the Hammerer battle (killing three Hammerers - even the horse got one!) and running down my general's unit. Take note: next time, make sure you kill all the Marauder Horsemen first.
As for my MVPs - wow, can Bugman's Rangers garrison a building or what? It was great to have them just sit in there, lobbing axes as Blightkings or Chariots, then holding out against the assaults. They're not cheap, but I'll be looking to fit them into future armies.
 |
| The Dwarven Heroes, courtesy of Reaper - right to left, the Banner Thane, King Helgvist and the Runesmith. |
What an appropriately apocalyptic finale! A raw tabling for Stylus, but at the same time, not quite the result I was looking for.
I got off to a bad start, underestimating the fighting power of Bugman's Rangers and perhaps overestimating what a mere five Blightkings were going to achieve. That loss, and their subsequent chariot demolition, really stung. As did that damnable Poison Forest!
Not that I can complain, though - otherwise the WoCs produced a very solid result. I had some amazing luck, with some unlikely challenge results and some timely enemy breaks.
Phlthos came close, over our seven matches. And best of all, he never died once in all seven battles (ignoring the technicality of his Ascendency, which we will of course do for fluff). I strongly recommend Palanquins to keep your hero alive, and you can't really find fault in a tooled-up Daemon Prince either.
But I was coming into this last one needing a 20:0 victory to clinch the campaign. Stylus very sportingly suggested the anti-boasts, putting more points on the table, and even more sportingly took a melee list that played to my army strengths. He could have taken a gun line and sat at the back of the pass, after all. So a very deserved victory to a fine foe, I think!
Looking back, that was a very fun way to run a seven-battle campaign. Kudos to Kraken for being a splendid opponent and I hope you enjoyed this whistlestop tour of half the Warhammer races.
And next for us?
No comments:
Post a Comment