Of Battle, Wolves and Winter.

Game Master GM Drachenfels

As the eye of the raven spins downwards from the uncaring sky, I bid each of you greetings. This great day we embark on an adventure that pits you (our epic heroes) against the perilous forces of Chaos and the ruinous powers of the Great Enchanter.

Then again, perhaps not. We shall soon see. So, with three legendary words we begin our mighty tale of times long past:

"THE OLD WORLD..."

To your west, the Middle Mountains loom like a silent guardian, brooding and oppressive. The snow capped mountain rises like a spear of ice into the cloud filled sky. As your eyes trace the lines of the mighty peaks, you can already see that this will be another cold and unforgiving day.

"Blasted frost," Captain Tillman mutters, "Ulric is holding nothing back. This will be a hard winter."

Looking about the shattered line of men who trail behind you, it's easy to understand the grim look of concern that haunts the face of Captain Tillman. A sturdy officer with Ostland blood, the events of the past week have greatly reduced his once near legendary confidence.

War has come to the Empire and each of you had been called up to fight. Some of you rallied to the horn of Middenheim and the Graf more readily than others. You had been attached to the Gray Wolves, a strong brigade of fighting men with a dozen victories beneath their belt. Now, nearly all the veterans and officers are dead. It had been the Kurgen.

"Inbred horse born ass rompers," a black haired man to your left mutters, his breath freezing in the wind. "How them bloody raiders managed to get this far inland past tha northern defenses, it's a wretched mystery."

"Aye," mutters another. "They hit us hard. Never seen em' comin."

You remember how it had been. The command had come from the Graf himself. Ostland was under siege and the Gray Wolves had been detached to assist in the defense of Wolfenburg, it's formidable capital. You had been called up as reservists to augment the standing fighting force.

But on the march to relieve the besieged city, the Kurgen had struck with hammer force, striking at night and using the cover of a raging snowstorm to conceal their movements. The resulting bloodbath had routed the Gray Wolves and decimated their numbers. For the past week you've been harried by skirmishers and scouts from the Kurgen horde.

"Who wages a campaign in winter?" another man asks, spitting into the low burning fire. "Tis' madness..."

Captain Tillman, circling nearby leans over the wrapped forms of several soldiers, one of which had been his lieutenant and lifelong friend. A sad look crosses his scarred face.

"Hold strong," you can hear him whisper. "Today I pray to both Ulric and Sigmar that we find a way out of this mess."

Standing, the ice blue eyes of the Captain find you. The sadness and softness that had a moment ago consumed him vanishes in an instant as he resumes the mantle of command.

"You there!" he snaps, pointing in your direction. "Any of you know the healers craft?"

The calculating eyes of Captain Tilmann sweep across each of you in turn.

And on this note, let the story begin!

The Middle Mountains
The peaks line the Horizon like the cracked teeth of some great and ancient colossal beast now long forgotten amidst the cold and unrelenting ravages of time.
Rarely are these lands not an icy region of unforgiving and uncaring iciness, but in the few months of warmer climate, it is a region of unsurpassed beauty with all the colors of ones imagination and the chirp and whirr of animal and insect life elated and joyful at the rare reprieve from suffering.
But this is not what currently stands before you as the wind in the lofty peaks churns the snow like a witch stirring her cauldron of doom.
Like a backdrop from some Tilean's morose painting, the grey sky leaves nothing to the imagination.
While at this distance you are not caught within the chilling grasp of the spiked and depressing crags, you feel no comfort as the icy chill of the barren landscape's wind threatens to cut your flesh like a knife.

The challenge of describing the Middle Mountains has been undertaken successfully. Dagon, grant your character(s) +30 xp. We'll need to decide how xp gains will work for them since you are playing two characters. I imagine they'll gain xp equally? Honestly though, I'm not really too concerned about it. You don't power game.

Not sure if there was any confusion on how to proceed. I'm still learning the proper technique to GM in a play by post.

Captain Tillman is asking if anyone has the skill of heal. If so, do a skill check against it and let me know the result pass or fail. On top of this, there are several other open description challenges available for xp.

Caspar, is a rather short and thin man. Curly red hair peeks out from underneath an over-sized cloak that he's managed to wrap around himself several times. At his hip a sword hangs, on his back a lute warps as the weather takes it's toll on the low quality instrument. Caspar is chained at the ankle to other men with less courageous qualities. To prevent desertion the Gray Wolves found it necessary to take these precautions. Captain Tillman, who once prided himself on his ability to rally even the most cowardly of individuals, now accepts this as a form of "courage building."

"Even if I could heal these men, I couldn't do it with these chains about my ankles. Why even the man to my left could use a splint!"

"Mistrel," Captain Tillman groans, looking your direction. "You've earned those chains. If I were a lesser man I'd leave you here for the wolves or worse."

The Captain turns his attention back to the wounded men who shiver in their makeshift shelter, his eyes lingering on his Lieutenant.

"Still, there may be something you can do to ease their suffering."

Captain Tillman directs his cold blue stare once again towards you.

"We have an hour before we press on. Play these men a song to life their spirits. Your fingers are ill fit for a sword. Let's see what talent they have with the lute."

If you choose to obey the request of Captain Tillman, make a test against your fellowship as you compose a ballad to "lift the spirits" of the wounded soldiers. Report your result and respond accordingly.

KRAK and Boom are among the handful Dwarves remaining alive in the service of the Gray Wolves. They had answered the call to arms Melodied by the jingle of coin.
Though their strange weapon and explosives had dealt terrible damage to the Kurgen it was not enough to turn the tide. The Kurgen have just been too many and seemingly bred for battle in the winter.
Perhaps a whole company of Dwarves and their technology would change things, but right now only these two Dwarves were able to use what they called "Bazooka".
"Krak" is perhaps the more surely of the two. His flaming red hair and beard flow loosely and his eyes constantly burn beneath a furrowed brow that he wears like a mask of constant disaproval, not even broken when laughing at his companions jokes.
"Boom" is the fairer of the two and a bit more outwardly jovial an friendly, though his humor mostly only makes Krak laugh. His Blond hair and beard are more neatly combed and braided, but far from "neat".

Both are nearly always covered by soot and their hair and clothing show signs of burnt patches.
The wear large leather Aprons that covers their fronts and lies over their clothing. They have also taken to wear large fur cloaks which have seen better days.

They stand close to their pony and wagon which carries their precious supplies and weaponry all wrapped in furs and leather tarps.

Ja, pleeze play us a melody. A sveet song from a Jail bird vill varm our heartz unz fireghten ze Kurgen avay.

HARHARHARHARHARHAR *SNORT* HHAHAHAHARHAHRHARHAR

Krak smiles and continues to secure the ropes around the long tube wrapped in white fur close to the side of their wagon.

(Caspar): The jovial humor of the dwarf bites into you like the icy wind of winter. Since you had "signed on" with the Gray Wolves in Middenheim, it seemed to have become his great pleasure in life to torment you. Even now a chorus of laughter explodes around the snow packed camp of soldiers as they mock your indignation.

It's Wolfenburg all over again...

Caspar grabs hold of the degrading instrument at his back. Plucking a few sad notes, he frowns hoping the instrument lasts longer in the cold than he surely will. He begins to play and takes a deep breath

"Well, Caspar, this is what you asked for."

1d100 ⇒ 63 Yeah....that's a failure

Nicely done, Jon! I really like the verse you wrote for the Gray Wolves of Middenheim. Take +40xp for it instead of 30. Good work!

(Caspar): A silence descends over the camp as you begin to play. It soon becomes painfully obvious that your lute is in desperate need of tuning. The fact that your desperate instrument is also missing a string doesn't seem to help your case. Still, you pour your heart into the song as best you can.

As you strum the final note and sing the last refrain, your voice cracks on the final three words: "OUUUUUR COOOOOLD STEEEEELY BIIIITE!"

A look of confused bewilderment begins to cross the faces of the men. Tired, weary and battle worn, they swivel their gaze from you to Captain Tillman and back again.

"You are perhaps the worst bard I've ever heard," Captain Tillman says at last, his face a mask of stone. "But you sing with heart. That's the spirit we're lookin' for, soldier."

Steppings towards you Captain Tillman slides a rusted key ring from his belt, tossing it to you with a sidelong glance.

"Unshackle yourself and join the rest of us for chow," Tillman says. "Oh, and see to it you learn the sword, and quick. Sigmar's grandmother fights better than you."

Turning away, you catch the Captain smirking, an edge of humor returning to a demeanor haunted by the events of the past week.

The Eye of the Raven switches focus...

(Krak): You've checked the ties on the wagon once, twice, thrice. It pays to be somewhat careful in your line of work, though more often than not your counterpart forgets this and has (on more than one occasion) nearly blown you and half the Gray Wolves into an early grave.

Your stubby frostbitten hands desperately work the coils of rope as you look up from time to time at the spectacle unfolding before you. In the center of camp you can see the wobbly red headed bard working his trade. You can hear his warped lute and cracking voice. If this is the best the Empire has to offer in terms of entertainment your in for a long, long winter.

Tying the last knot securely, you give pause and turn. Had you heard something? You scan the nearby treeline, your eyes burrowing into the woodland shadows.

Make a perception check for Krak. If you still have not rolled up stats for Krak and Boom, then use 30% as the base score for all rolls until you get their stats on paper. Pass or fail, let me know your result.

After being free from the shackles, Caspar doesn't head towards the mess tent but takes a quick detour to one of sever fires around the camp. "The shackles weren't meant for the brave nor the fires meant for the cowardly" as Captain Tillman often said. So to the fires Caspar went. Caspar saw many things as he walked. Men stood watch as others went out on patrol. Some repaired the measly walls that fortified the camp while others packed snow on the tents to help insulate the heat inside. It became clear to Caspar that he might live longer inside the camp rather than outside. After all, who wants to be hunted by Kurgen AND Gray Wolves?

Ah, I overlooked something. Caspar, take a further +20xp for the introduction of your character. That had been one of the early challenges. Dagon, do the same for Krak and Boom.

(Dagon): Regarding xp, when you earn it just use common sense on how you apply it to your two dwarves. If they are both in the scene, then give them both the same amount. If one is absent, then obviously exclude him from the xp gain. Oh and also! Remember that each advance is +5% not +10% like the old days, heh!

I think this is going well so far, though I'd like to see a few of our other players jump in sometime this week.

Caspar: The brutal winter winds whip the tents and banners of the Gray Wolf camp, howling demons of snow and ice dance in the early morning light. You can hear the crunch of your boots on the fresh packed snow as you drift through the shattered remains of this once proud company.

Taking a seat around the burning embers of a large fire built near the center of camp, you extend your hands outwards to catch whatever heat you can. You had always heard that Ulric was an uncaring God, but this cold is ridiculous. You can only hope the Kurgen are suffering from it in equal measure.

"Not a half bad song," you hear a voice to your left chime in. "Though I think someone needs to tune that lute of yours."

The voice belongs to a curious young woman, a camp follower by the looks of it, who sits much as you do, hands extended as she desperately trys to extract some measure of warmth. The road has not been kind to her, but you sense that beneath the grime of travel and stife there is a beautiful woman waiting.

"So, Caspar is it?" she asks. "Tis nice to meet you. I'm Gretta."

Do you stammer like a fool or wax eloquent like a poet? Make a test against your Fellowship with a +10 percent.

In the universe the Old World inhabits, there are some who believe in the Multiverse, that the Old World exists, many times over with subtle changes and minute details changing the fate of entire worldlines. Most think of it as multiple maps of the world laid on top of one another, stacked infinitium. Each life in the world is a flame, and rarely there comes a man, a being, whose flame burns too high, too hot and makes its presence
known on all the Worlds, as the flame burns through. Sigmar was such a man as was Archaon the Ever Chosen. Albrecht Baer was yet another.

Albrecht Baer is an apprentice in the Burning Order. He had the gift unusually strong in him. Looking at him it was apparent he belonged on the battlefield, looking more a brute than a scholar. When the call went up he was dispatched from his order to join up with the Gray Wolves. Armies needed the power of wizardy and in these dark times an apprentice was as valuable as most regiments could hope for. He was glad to be there, a warm aura amidst the snow. Battle meant power. Albrecht was seated nearby Tillman, as his position warranted. The sound of Caspar's lute jarring him from a moments meditation.

"Captain, what is our plan?"

Good to have you join us, Albrecht. The eye of Tzeentch has noticed you: +20xp for your character introduction. I like your description of the world(s) being maps and how the flame can burn through multiple layers. Very creative!

Albrecht: In times of peace an apprentice of the Burning Order might find himself relegated to warming the bath water of the officer they'd serve, but these are extraordinary times and you're no ordinary wizard. Your first outing from the high walls of Middenheim had you squaring off against the savage armies of Chaos, the Kurgen.

"That was some damn fine work Albrecht," Captain Tillman says, walking back towards you and his command tent. "I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life."

You remember it well. The Kurgen warrior had been adorned in nothing but high boots, loincloth and iron helmet. He had appeared from nowhere in the melee that had cost so many their lives. Knocking Tillman senseless, had it not been for your desperately cast spell, things may have gone very differently for the Captain.

"As for an answer to your question, we follow our orders. We press on to Wolfenburg to offer what assistance we can there. The reports coming in from the city are not good."

You frown. 'Not good' is a massive understatement. From the stories you've heard from the half mad scouts that found their way back to camp, the situation in the city is nothing short of a nightmare.

"Albrecht," the Captain abruptly says. "Until we press on, see what you can do to make our wounded feel more comfortable."

You begin to object. You did not devote your learnings to the craft of healing and solace, but the grim gaze from Tillman quiets your protest.

In the unlikely event you have the skill of HEAL, use it now to see what can be done for the men. If not, offer some creative ideas in description for how you might ease the suffering of the wounded and we'll do a fitting roll check after.

Waiting on three roll checks: A perception check for Krak, a Fellowship check (again) for our dashing bard, Caspar, and a pending response and possible skill check from Albrecht.

We have some of the early descriptive challenges available still as well. It would be easy to work them into the game with some creative thought and description. Up to you guys!

1d100 ⇒ 40 My fellowship's 42 so I pass without the bonus

"Ah, Yes! While my instrument has seen better days, it's often said 'an instrument is only as good as the one who plays it.' I've got an idea! Why don't I lend you it to you to find someone to repair it? Such a great idea, keep my focus on sword strokes and parries while you do work closest to my heart!" Caspar's stomach rumbled, quickly reminding him of the lack of food. He gave his instrument to Gretta "Well it would seem this chill goes deeper than the skin. I think it's time I go find something to warm up my innards if you catch my meaning. Onion Stew with a hint of rabbit, must be a Kislevian delicacy seeing as how that cook serves it so much! It's been a pleasure meeting you, I never forget my adoring fans!"

With that said, Caspar made his way to the mess tent.

Knowing full well healing is nothing he can do, Albrecht sets about making sure the fires are roaring for the men, any who are critically wounded and need medical attention such as the sealing of wounds he readies pieces of charcoal in his hands and begins to cast Cauterize.

1d10 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Succeeding his palm glows white hot and leaves the flesh of many GrayWolves a Burned Palm. They may not live through the War, but Baer has prolonged their lives for the time being.

Caspar, feel free to disregard the use of bold for character speak. I'm finding it somewhat distracting, like being critically hit with a wall of text *grin*

Running about and doing some errands. I'll be posting responses to both your updates tonight.

Description Challenge 'The Gray Wolves':

This once proud regiment of Imperial soldiers served the great city of Middenheim. Describe some of their exploits and history as a stark contrast to the current sad state they find themselves in after a great defeat.

Lutke Geshburger strides up to the fire he expects to find everyone seated around. A small self-satisfied twist on his lips makes it clear that Lutke he has done something he thinks is important. Again. At least in his own mind.

With a grand gesture he raises a hand in which he is clutching a spool of messily but tightly wound thin wire (and has apparantly forgotten all about it), then lets his hand fall deflated as he looks around. Caspar the Red has just gotten up and begun his wanderings, Albrecht is moving to assist with the fires and the wounded (their screams ring with Albrecht's "gentle" touch). Krak seems to be studying something in the distance while Booom continues to chuckle and mutter under his breath, "Jail birdy can naught bit varble durving his varbling!" And worse! Captain Tilsman has already strode away as well. Probably to the mess fire. Yes!

Lutke smiled again as he realized he would be able to get more gruel. Once he had skimmed the oil of the top and thrown the rest away, he would be able to lubricate the crossbow firing mechanisms again. Most excellent. (Lutke seems to be a little thin for his rather tall height. Perhaps this is why?) With the fire of purpose in his eyes, he half jogs to the mess area intent on getting the oil. And telling the captain all about his latest brilliant trap. He clutched the spool of wire like a trophy and shook it like he was accepting an award. Yes. This time there was no one who could doubt his brilliance. The sentries were going to love the "help" he had given them today. Assuming none of them walked it one of the traps of course. He had told them...hadn't he? Lutke considered this for the briefest moment. Then he shrugged as he walked. Even if he hadn't, whichever sentry was foolish enough to walk around knowing a Lutke trap might be anywhere would just help prove it worked beautifully. Because it would of course....oh yes indeed.

Trap rolls:

• Northerly Trap 1d100 ⇒ 55
• Southwesterly Trap 1d100 ⇒ 74
• Southeasterly Trap 1d100 ⇒ 57
• Easterly Trap 1d100 ⇒ 4
• Northeasterly Trap 1d100 ⇒ 25

Wow, pinvendor just exploded into this adventure in epic fashion! Excellent work with the back story about the Gray Wolves. I'm impressed. You obviously worked hard on what you wrote. +60xp for the hard work! And a further +20xp for your character intro and description.

I also really like the very unique and creative characters you've all created. This should be an interesting game indeed!

And now to craft my responses...

Caspar: Gretta's eyes go wide as you hand her your lute. You then proceed to ramble, completely ignoring the smitten look she casts upon you. With a final dismissive wave of your hand, you leave your precious lute in her company, marching off to the mess tent mumbling to yourself the entire time.

Gretta watches as you go, then turns her gaze downwards. She plucks a single forlorn string and frowns.

As you make your way to the cooks tent, you see a string of Gray Wolves already lined up for chow. And there in line squinting at you from beneath the locks of his brown hair is Lutke Geshburger. He waves his hand in greeting as he sees you.

This should setup roleplay options for both Caspar and Lutke. Proceed at your leisure.

----------

Albrecht: You tap deep into the fires that burn within you, channeling the passage of the heat into the palms of your hands. You can't help but admire the courage of the Gray Wolves. Many groan as you seer their flesh, but none cry out in pain.

Creative thinking on your part. +10xp as you cauterize the wounds of the soldiers.

As you kneel beside Captain Tillman's lieutenant, you press your hands to the gaping wounds on his stomach. He coughs blood, reaching up and pulling you close. His hands are covered in his own crimson blood.

"Don't..." he bleats, pain washing over him. "Don't waste your time on me. I'm...not going to...make it."

A look of suffering and fear washes over the mans face. With an iron determination he snaps his attention back to you.

"The pain is too much," he stammers. "I beg you. End it. For Sigmar's sake. Grant me the sweet release of Shallyah. Let Morr take me..."

Albrecht, what do you do?

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Lutke: The morning chow line is shorter than expected. This doesn't bode well. Men must have died in the night because there are now far fewer Gray Cloaks lined up for food. The solemn cook seems to have taken this personally, muttering to himself as he dishes out his much maligned onion and rabbit stew.

Brushing the locks of your hair from your eyes, you bite your lip and ponder the placement of your latest traps. And had they been armed properly?

Turning your gaze, you brush the hair from your eyes yet again. You see Caspar the bard approaching the mess line, his long steps giving him an awkward look. Waving your arms to catch his attention, he turns towards you. Did Caspar just smile? Or was that a grimace?

I like what you've done with the traps you've set. I'll keep those rolls of yours in mind should things go the way I think they might. And yes, I'd like to know more about the nature of the traps and what they might do if triggered.

*CHUCKLE* "Hey Krak, Looke on ze waif gettin ze load of ze shrimp. Lesse if she can standz a real man."
Boom slaps Krak on the back JUST as he finished securing the rigging and a pile of "hand bombs" spills out from the tarp and onto the snow.
Without even noticing, Boom adjusts heis belt, runs a wet finger along his furry eyebrows and saunters over to the woman

"Dang-e Boom, neer a care fur watz right and watz right. DARE, finahly finshed...Eh, whatz dat? Seems like somethings moving in deh woods" "OOOMPH, BLAST YER HIDE"
Whatever Krak may have spotted has suddenly been completely forgotten as much of his handy work has been undone by Boom's slap on the back and the spill of hand bombs on the snow.
I dont know how to roll on here so I am using http://www.wizards.com/dnd/dice/dice.htm And the result is 99!!!!!EXCCELLENT START

I wish to take the Kurgen challenge. Will do once they appear...

I dont know how to roll on here so I am using http://www.wizards.com/dnd/dice/dice.htm And the result is 99!!!!!EXCCELLENT START

On the bottom of the page there is a section called "How to format your text" - it will show you how to use the dice expression. But basically:

{dice} 1d100 {/dice}

But instead of using the { } use [ ]

^^ I had to use a different symbol in the example otherwise it would roll for me instead of showing you the dice format, like this:

1d100 ⇒ 58

As for the 99 you rolled, excellent start indeed! *grin* I shall get to my response shortly. And I look forward to your Kurgen description. Undertaking the challenge 'Once they appear' might be sooner than you think...

Albrecht has no qualms with what the man asks. His wounds do look too grievous to recover from. Thinking on the best way to ease the mans journey, Albrecht gives the man a last swig of some booze, lifts the lieutenants left arm and drives a dagger into the armpit and through the heart. Still holding the man in a tight embrace, Albrecht releases him to the ground when he feels his body slacken.The man should have died on the field, but he is gone now.

Albrecht stands, wipes the dagger clean on the mans trousers and gets up to inform the captain.

"I've done all I can do. I am no priest and it was not much. Your lieutenant has passed, his wounds too great."

In the distant tree line, a lean well muscled man kneels down, his eyes black pools of anger and hate. The well formed muscles of his body are covered from shoulder to calf with wicked runes and hideous scars, the symbols and marks of the Chaos Gods. For long moments the figure sits and watches the pathetic camp of Empire soldiers.

After sniffing the air and scanning the surround, he raises his hand, flashing his fingers skyward in a silent signal. Other men soon begin to emerge from the shadows of the trees, remarkably silent despite their massive size.

----------

HAAAARRRRWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The blast of the bone horns of the Kurgen explode into the chill winter air like a bomb being dropped!

"KURGEN! GRAY WOLVES! TO ARMS," Captain Tillman's voice can barely be heard above the sudden shriek of men, of weapons clearing their scabbards, and the trample of dozens of feet. "FIGHT FOR THE EMPIRE! FIGHT FOR THE GRAF! FIGHT FOR..."

(Albrecht): You're closer than the rest when it happens. A spear the size of a mans fist appears from nowhere and slams hard into the chest of Captain Tillman. He spins like a child, spraying blood everywhere.

Then you see him!

A Kurgen warrior, his hair streaming in the cold winter wind charges towards you! Hot waves of breath blast from his flaring nostrils, his chest rises and falls as he closes the distance, a cruel two handed blade slides from its scabbard as the brute closes the distance, his eyes dead pools, his mouth frothing with foam!

Albrecht, combat begins. We're going to keep things fast and furious. You have the distance and perhaps the time to unleash a spell. But if you fail...

----------

(Caspar): "Oi der, Caspar," The dim witted pot bellied cook says, smiling as you draw next to his cooking fire. "I gotta say, me thoughts yer song was radder movin'..."

The cooks head explodes! Sprayed with warms brains and gore you stammer backwards and fall, crashing into and then falling over the body of another soldier caught unawares by the sudden attack.

Two more men go down, arrows lodged in their necks and chests, their hands reaching skywards like dead talons as they gurgle in horror.

Time then seems to slow. From your frozen vantage face down in the snow you see only boots. It's almost a strange dance, seeing men dash here and there, crashing into each other and falling. Barbed daggers rising high into the morning air, then slashing down with savage purpose. Spays of blood leap across the fresh packed snow.

And then a scream! With effort you turn your head, your face still pressed into the cold hard earth. Gretta! The young camp follower and your greatest fan! Something resembling a man is stalking her, his massive body a tapestry of war, but where his head should be there is instead a massive iron helmet adorned with human scalps.

The first strike from the Kurgen is meant to cripple. Perhaps he means to rape the poor lass? In desperation, Gretta parries the blow WITH YOUR LUTE! There is an explosion of wood and splinters as she falls backwards over the small fire she had been tending, flames and sparks spray into the morning air.

Howling with laughter, the Kurgen closes on her, undoing the ties of his leather kilt with one hand, extending his sword blade towards her throat with the other.

Caspar, what do you do? If you choose to attack you'll have a +20 to Weapon Skill since the Kurgen's back is towards you. Again, we'll play combat fast and furious and see where this goes. I'm more concerned about story than solid rules, using dice rolls only as a way to direct the direction the story will go: victory or defeat.

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(Krak and Boom): "Eh, whatz dat? Seems like somethings moving in deh woods," Krak bellows a moment before...

Krak: Your eyes go wide as the sky fills with black arrow shafts buzzing like insects. They rise from the treeline and seem to hover in the cold winter air as if frozen by the breath of Ulric...

First make a perception check to find cover. Take into account if you pass or fail. Next, make an agility check to 'evade' the arrow storm. If you had passed your perception check you have a +20 to your agility (as you manage to find some cover), otherwise check as normal.

Boom: Smirking like Ranald in a brothel, you begin to saunter towards the young lass near the fringes of the camp when the world as you know it explodes. Across your field of vision you see figures rising up from the snow, or leaping into sight from hidden places among the trees.

And then Krak is there howling in your native tongue, running at breakneck speed for cover. You pivot and turn. The sky darkens as you peer towards your impending doom.

The same check should apply to Boom as it does to Krak, unless you have something else in mind.

----------

Lutke: The happy scene as you approach Caspar abruptly changes when the cooks head explodes. And then chaos...

Anywhere and everywhere at once, the Kurgen marauders attack from all sides, howling in their native tongue. To your left you see a pair of soldiers raise their spears and put up a valiant fight. A moment later they explode outwards, howling in pain, sizzling viscera spraying the snow.

Nearby, half covered in snow and standing on a small hillock, a barbaric woman dressed in leather and bone has just completed the last incantations in her terrible spell. Green flame flickers and dances, blowing the two Gray Wolves apart like wet balloons.

As fate would have it the enchantress turns her head towards YOU! Her eyes are seas of white, her lips curl into a cruel snarl. You see the hellish flames begin to reappear as she begins her incantation anew!

Lutke, what do you do? And also lets check your traps. Of the five you set, two were armed. Make a fortune check for the two armed traps. Let me know the results of the snares.

"KURGEN! GRAY WOLVES TO ARMS!!!"
Instinctively Albrecht thrusts his arm out, striking a matching and bellows out arcane words of power.

"Fires of U'zhuuul!"

1d10 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

A raging jet of searing air catches the Kurgen full in the chest, the magical flames seem to pass into the Kurgen and fires burst from his eyes and mouth!

1d10 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13(Damage, not that it matters)

Albrecht:

"Everything burns," your mentor had once told you, "It just needs the proper inclination to do so."

A raging jet of searing air catches the Kurgen full in the chest, the magical flames seem to pass into the Kurgen and fires burst from his eyes and mouth!

The Kurgen tries to scream but cannot. His vocal chords have been fused to his throat, burning from the inside out he twists and turns, popping and melting all at once. The cold iron of his blade burns itself into his enclosed fist. Fingers melt away revealing splinters of blackened bone. The Kurgen tumbles into the snow a black heap of burning flesh.

THUNK! THUNK! THWOWP!

Two massive arrows land near you, each closer than the next. The third plants itself firmly in the back of Captain Tillman. If he had been alive before, that's the end of it.

You swing your gaze frantically, a trio of archers in a nearby cosp of trees is unleashing volley after volley in your direction!

TWIK! TWIK! TWIK!

The sounds of arrows released from bowstrings, a chorus of impending death.

Like the others, take cover (unless you have other ideas). Perception check to find cover, if you pass your resulting agility check is at a +10%

Caspar sees his instrument explode splintering into a million pieces. Simply put his heartbreaks at that instant. He's not a warrior, in reality, he's not even a good bard. Seeing his beloved instrument destroyed ignites a rage that even a smart mouth dwarf wouldn't scoff at. His sword glides out of it's scabbard as he charges the Kurgen. Jumping on the giant's back he stabs wildly at the Kurgen.

1d100 ⇒ 49with the +20 I pass the skill check.

The Kurgen spins wildly with Caspar hanging on for dear life, his sword imbedded in the Kurgens back. Tripping over a stump, the Kurgen comes to stop face down in the dirt next to the fire. Caspar, quite fond of himself at the moment, reaches out to assist Gretta. "We meet again so soon, uh....."He had already forgotten her name."Gretchen!?"

I don't know if that's what you mean by fast and furious so I left you to decide the Kurgen's fate.

Well, 1st thing is that I would think they would each dive beneath the carriage. Can I get a bonus for that? Remeber I rolled a 99 as well, so maybe some minuses are in order?

Well, 1st thing is that I would think they would each dive beneath the carriage. Can I get a bonus for that? Remeber I rolled a 99 as well, so maybe some minuses are in order?

That's fine AND smart thinking to boot. Let's go with a +20 to your agility check to avoid the rain of arrows. As far as the fumble goes, that was to perceive the Kurgen who were preparing their attack. I'll be gentle and we'll go light on you (this time) *grin*.

Anxious to see your description of the Kurgen. Feel free to use the Warhammer Wiki to augment your knowledge of them.

Kewl, thanks for +20. That 99 was bad, but you're right, it was a perception check and heck, things look bad already.
I didnt look up the Kurgen online. I modeled them after a Warhammer fantasy book I read once "Mark of Chaos"...it was all about this barbarian from one of these tribes. I can change my description if you wish.
Also, will have to roll later tonight....

Dagon: A fitting description of the Kurgen, and the descriptive challenge has been undertaken: +30xp for Boom and Krak.

Caspar's sword glides out of it's scabbard as he charges the Kurgen. Jumping on the giant's back he stabs wildly.

The Kurgen spins wildly with Caspar hanging on for dear life, his sword imbedded in the Kurgens back. Tripping over a stump, the Kurgen comes to stop face down in the dirt next to the fire. Caspar, quite fond of himself at the moment, reaches out to assist Gretta. "We meet again so soon, uh....."He had already forgotten her name."Gretchen!?"

(Caspar): Gretta screams! Instinctively you leap aside as you hear the sound of something heavy rushing towards you.

JUST IN TIME! A massive sword embeds itself in the spot you had been standing in a moment before. The Kurgen warrior is on his feet, blood flowing freely from the fresh wound in his back. A savage look of hate and anger burns in his dark eyes.

KLANG! Your blades connect as you barely parry the next strike, stumbling backwards. Gretta screams again as the Kurgen closes in for the kill.

Ok, let's try out the fast and furious Warhammer LITE combat rules and see how it works for us.

The Kurgen has a Weapon Skill of 42. I'll take the first number of his Weapon Skill and that will be the number of dice I'll roll.

In turn you'll roll three d100's to represent your 30 Weapon Skill. We'll compare the number of successes and go from there.

Howling in an unholy voice, the savage brute swings his massive iron blade through the air with horrible force:

4d100 ⇒ (12, 67, 32, 93) = 204

Again ignore the grand total (204) and instead focus on the number of successful hits. Since his Weapon Skill is 42, he has two successes (12 and 32), and two misses (67 and 93).

Caspar, roll 3d100 and we'll compare the result.

It is my hope that by rolling our attacks in this way we can simulate the length and randomness of combat while cutting down the time required to embark upon it. I'm using a lot of explanation for this first combat so we can learn it, use it and perfect it.

3d100 ⇒ (58, 24, 32) = 114

Caspar has once success vs the Kurgen's two. Very well. Here is what happens...

(Caspar): You've never been a swordsman, Captain Tillman had been kind enough to beat that through your head ten times a day. Yet somehow you manage to wield your blade with enough skill to save your life. Barely...

The Kurgen savage on the other hand swings his cold steel with a warlike efficiency. You manage to parry the first blow, though dodging the second strike is the pure luck of Ranald. The third and final attack finds its mark, deflecing off your blade and slashing hard and fast across your upper thigh. You collapse and roll, standing with a howl of pain. You can already feel the blood inside your breeches filling your boot with crimson red warmth.

"Kaaaaa'llz Aaah^ Ghuuuul," The Kurgen taunts, spinning his blade in barbaric fashion, preparing to launch another strike.

You did not post your total wounds. Please add those to your profile. Regardless, take the 2nd number of your wounds, adding +1 to it, and that will be your total HEALTH. Example: 12 wounds + 1 = 3 HEALTH. Since the Kurgen won the first melee against you, remove 1 health point. Keep me informed of your total and when/if you reach zero.

The savage fighter spins his blade counterclockwise, his black eyes lost somewhere beneath a massive helm of black iron plate.

"Khooooooooooooorne! Raaaz^kaaaal Dooom," he bellows, charging and striking with horrible fury.

4d100 ⇒ (86, 15, 31, 88) = 220 The Kurgen lands 2/4 successes! Please roll your response and/or post other ideas Caspar may have to deal with this situation.

whoa there! I have 10 wounds, so effectively I'm already out so...

Despite even his best efforts Caspar could not hold his own against the brutality of the Kurgen warrior. His leg wound got worse as the seconds passed the blood-loss causing him to collapse. As his eyes closed, the last thing he saw was Gretta scream in terror.

whoa there! I have 10 wounds, so effectively I'm already out so...

I hadn't thought of the possibility of someone having 10 wounds. So yes, that would leave you with 1 health. I'm not really a fan of people being 1 shotted, so I might make the equation the last # of your wound total +2. Either way, you responded correctly with your description.

Despite even his best efforts Caspar could not hold his own against the brutality of the Kurgen warrior. His leg wound got worse as the seconds passed the blood-loss causing him to collapse. As his eyes closed, the last thing he saw was Gretta scream in terror.

The Kurgen closes the distance, raising his blade to strike and finish his grizzly work...

Anyone nearby, Lutke perhaps? I open this scene up for intervention as time seems to slow and the lingering scream of Gretta plays itself out on a stage of anguish and woe.

1d100 ⇒ 61

Krak shouts to his comrade in Dwarvish to find cover. Looking up, he curses under his breath. "Get under the wagon...good thing I was so near it"

But in his haste, he stumbles upon the spilled hand bombs on the floor and almost in comical fashion does a wavering dance upon them before sitting on the ground hard.

1d100 ⇒ 34
Boom is slightly more fortunate, having always been the quickest of the 2 (23 AG as opposed to 19), He forgets joviality, grabs a nearby shield, swings around in one deft motion and using it like a sled slides smoothly past Krak and under the wagon.

With snow in his eyebrows, hair and beard, Boomm blinks and looks back at his comrade
By Grimleys beard Krak, Vat are u still doing out Dare?!! Find ze cover!!!

Update on Krak and Boom.

I've finally rolled them up. Originally I was thinking of making them "Outlaws", but decided better of it.

They are both of the "Engineer" advanced class. I am using my free advance for it.

Krak was a miner previously and Boom was a Smith.

Lastly: I would go again, but I think it's "their" attack, yes? Meaning the arrows impact.

I dont want to go "out of turn"....

BTW, Caspar has toughness and armor, no? Subtracts from the wounds?

Thanks for rolling up your stats. Things look good!

As far as Toughness and Armor go, the idea early on was to keep things fast and simple so we don't get bogged down in huge text based fights. I'd have both parties roll a series of attacks and the one that lost by having the least successes would lose a point to overall health. That way you could resolve combat in just a couple exchanges. I think for fights that are more important, such as fighting a noteworthy NPC, we could return to more traditional rules.

My only thought right now is changing the equation we use for HEALTH. I'm thinking either the last number of your wound total +2 or your total wounds divided by 3.

I'm open to suggestions on how to incorporate things like toughness and armor into fights without bogging things down. I don't want it to get TOO complex. We don't roll for wounds per say. We just decide who is victorious or not in a given round based on the multiple rolls.

Regarding your response, Dagon, I'll reply shortly. I need to head out for a few minutes to get the kittens food *grin*

He forgets joviality, grabs a nearby shield, swings around in one deft motion and using it like a sled slides smoothly past Krak and under the wagon.

Haha, I loved this and it made me chuckle! +10xp for the creative description. Definitely an epic way to avoid incoming missle fire.

(Boom): You slide beneath the wagon laden with explosives JUST IN TIME.

THOCK! TWACK! TWANG!

The Kurgen bolts slam hard into the wood, others rebound off the iron plated wheels. You wince as each arrow finds its mark, praying that none of them are lit with fire.

Kicking away your shield and flopping over on your belly, you turn to see Krak floundering on the snow packed ground like a fish!

(Krak): Curse your dwarvish legs! You've tripped! And try as you might you're finding it impossible to gain your footing...

Bracing for the worst, you curl into as small a ball as possible as the snow around you explodes, arrows finding their marks.

I'm going to roll for the archers. They are firing at an arc and seem to be more concerned with spreading as many arrows over an area as possible as opposed to directing their fire AT YOU, each arrow will have a 20% chance to hit. I will roll for a total of six arrows:

6d100 ⇒ (65, 23, 38, 52, 28, 32) = 238

Ahhh, lucky for you - all misses, one barely!

SWISH! TWACK! TWANG! SWOOOSH! TWING!

One, two, three, four, five arrows arc down! You curl, one impacts the snow beside your head! You roll, two more land where you were a moment before! Pushing yourself upright, you slip as another arrow catches your cloak and brings you down.

Gasping for breath you can't believe your luck when...

THUUUNK!

A final bolt digs itself deep into the snow a mere inch from the dwarvish vault (if you get my meaning)...

Boom and Krak, you've survived the first volley. What do you do?