Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism

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torroar said:
Nope. Not here. In this world Count Gruber is of Nordland, as is Stefan. You can assume nothing now! :p
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Well, that brings our number of potential of problems back up to four, although technichally speaking one could count it as two or three depending on whether Thorgar and Gruber decide to team up (if Gruber is still secretly a Nurgle worshipper), and the Dark Elves seemed to prefer letting the orks do all the work for them while they continued their eternal grudge match with the elves.

Oh wait, I forgot about the Skaven that Thorgar occasionally went to for help........ I doubt we're going to be seeing all of them, but let it never be said that we lack opponents.

jwolfe_beta said:
Here's hoping the squatters don't have too much bullshit waiting for us.
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Considering we're in the beginning, it probably won't be too hard.

Still, squatters or not, we're dealing with chaos, getting them out isn't going to be easy.
 
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Huh, so looking at this map, Erengrad is actually really close to us. Helping them rebuild will be really helpful, since it's probably gonna be our main trading avenue with Kislev.

Oh and it just sunk in, this is the era when Nuln is still the Imperial Capital, not Altdorf. As a longtime participant of Warhammer Dynasty (set in Wissenland), that makes me happy :)
 
[X] Horns and Anvil
[X]--Make sure that the Cannons are well protected and able to provide support for your army, the enemy encircled your father's host, you wouldn't assume that they were unable to flank you somehow.
 
Battle of Salkalten 2
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    • The Battle of Salkalten, 2305 IC​

    Middenheim-Erengrad Road, Approaching Salkalten.

    The Bull Warriors must be insane to do this, but if this works…

    A heavy swig of ostka, ale, or whatever spirit of choice that the heavily armored warriors find to be their preference is provided. They know that this is a dangerous and risky maneuver, and that before your forces are able to encircle those that leave the city in response to the challenge they will be alone against a force that you may be equal to your own, or perhaps even be superior in numbers.

    Then they head out, in a circular formation. Though they do not possess spears, halberds, or pikes of their own, a circular shield wall shall be their defense. As they move out, you order extra guards around the cannon. Your father died on this coast, attempting to do much of the same thing, and yet was somehow entirely encircled and defeated. Somewhat like what you are about to attempt to do. For the moment, you are entirely unsure if this is a good or a bad thing. It's enough to make you take a drink of ostka yourself.

    Even from this distance you can hear the faint noises of the enemies sentries sighting the oncoming force. They do not come out in a wild horde, not just yet, but they do certainly take notice of three thousand burly men covered in heavy plate coming up the road at a steady pace. After the correct distance is reached, the Bull Warriors halt, and Sir Stier pushes his way to the fore. You have never fought Norscans before but they are said to be consummate warriors. Can they truly deny the challenge of a group of clearly experienced fighters?

    (The Challenge Of The Bulls 71/100)

    Apparently not. You could not clearly hear what Sir Stier said, but you caught echoes which sounded somewhat like honor, cowardice, combat, and something involving their mothers. The marauders respond with laughter, then rage. A great howl goes up amongst them, and then a horde of half-naked men and women erupt from the remains of Salkalten like an ant mound that has been kicked over. Even from here they look terrifying to behold, so thickly muscled as to dwarf many of your regular soldiery, wielding enormous axes, twin blades, and all a manner of other weapons. All of which look horrendously deadly. They do not form up in any specific formation, unlike the Bull Warriors who set themselves into the earth and raise their shields.

    Some of your men tense, and prepare to charge themselves before stopping. The point of this is to bring the tide onto the Bull Warriors, and they have not yet fully become submerged in the enemy. From the outskirts of the city they come, running and yelling with a level of stamina that is almost unbelievable to you. They roar as one to their horrific and dark gods which is answered by one of the Bull Warriors own. Yet three thousand men against a force which outnumbers them creates a sound that is only but swallowed soon after.

    (Bull against the Bear 84/100)

    You had, up until this point, thought you knew volume. But nothing quite compares to the sound of a solid mass of marauders smashing themselves into solid metal and flesh. An absolute cacophony of skin and bone and muscle crunching into thick plating and blades. Many of the raiders had to have died instantly from being crushed both by their kin behind and the Bull Warriors in front. This does not seem to have reduced the enthusiasm of the savages of Norsca. They continue to stream forward, until the inevitable occurs. The Bull Warriors do not shatter, merely tighten their formation further, and fight. As the pressure and numbers build, more and more of the savages begin to stream around the edges of the front to the rest of the defensive ring.

    Still, you do not charge. The Bull Warriors need to be swarmed. They need as many of the Norscans upon them as possible. You wince as part of the formation crumples as a man's head is hewed from his shoulders and his bulk is trampled into the sand and mud. It quickly repairs itself but fatalities are impossible to avoid in this situation. Darkly, you accept that this was going to happen sooner or later. You could not have let such a force of Chaos-aligned creatures on your lands forever, and the longer they controlled Salkalten the more of their brethren could be allowed onto the lands either west into Nordland or east into Kislev or an innumerable other locations.

    Then, finally, they are enclosed. A full ring of Norscans has covered the Bull Warriors, one thick with the savages as they push past one another to get at the brave men of the Empire within. You give the order, and with a cry for the various gods and goddesses of the Empire on the lips of your soldiery and whatever 'Urraaaaaaaa' meant from the Kislevites you charge.

    (Charge! 30/100)

    Things go wrong immediately. Several of the Norscans turn at the noise of your charge, and immediately turn around. They begin to sprint towards you, and more and more of the savages notice this sudden lack of pressure allowing them to add more pressure on the Bull Warriors. As the gleeful visage of the Norscans comes closer and closer, several of front ranks panic. Some try to flee, but are either knocked back into place by what few officers you possess or the braver men.

    Others nervously take a shot of liquid courage, and get ready to fight. The pikes set themselves at the ready, while your swordsmen take up next to them. Your bodyguard form around you in a single block, while the Kislevites do the same with your wife. Looking through the wild crowd of bodies you can just barely see some sort of ice armor slowly forming over Natasha's frame before she is obscured behind the Kreml Guard. The ogres bellow their own challenges, slamming chests or stomachs with their fists.

    (Second Clash 21/100)

    You see twenty men cut down in half as many seconds. Blood flies wildly as the first Norscans somehow dance between the pikes before hewing your soldiers like trees. That is not to say that some do not die, some get a sword through the heart, others are cut down and apart by those who are lucky or skilled, but the vast majority are doing fine. In the distance, before the dust kicks up further, you see more and more Norscans arriving out of Salkalten and crushing into the Bull Warriors. Then you have no time to think about anything as the fighting truly starts. Even from here you can feel the ground shaking under the boots of everyone in front of you. This is the first large scale combat that you have ever been a part of. Your hands begin to tremble, your vision blurring, and your heart pounds in your chest.

    You need to do something…yet….

    (Steel Yourself 95/100)

    Fear blankets you for only a scant moment before rage takes over. Blurring vision is exchanged for almost painfully clear sight tinged with red. The top of your flask is viciously ripped off and you take a hard pull of Ostka which numbs the trembling. Your eyes narrow as your grip tightens around Brain Wounder. The Greatswords likely remember that the previous Elector Count was killed, and do not intend to fail you yourself. But they are wasted here in the back.

    Right.

    Screams of fear, of pain, go out from the front, before you harshly bawl out an order. For a moment your bodyguards look at you askance, but then they can do nothing but follow your orders as you rush forward. It is perhaps not the most intelligent move that you've ever made but you are not an incapable fighter. It was a simple order, one that goes up practically as a rallying cry amongst your people. The ogres shift forward, and against their incredible bulk and strength the Norscans cannot compare. The blades of your Greatswords rise up and strike down with every single time the result being a slain Norscan.

    The order?

    "Advance!"

    The charge of the savages is blunted, then halted entirely, then it begins being pushed back.

    "Forward, men of the Empire!"

    A bright flash of blue tinged light goes up from somewhere, screams of awe and fear and pain coming out from the offspring of Norsca. The strange cry of the Kislevites are echoed once more, and with a single coordinate sweep of their halberds the Kreml Guard reap a gruesome tally from a group of Norscans who have found that their legs have been encased in ice.

    Then you smash into the front ranks, and get into the fight. Brain Wounder slices a man's head off before finding itself sunk into another's chest. Your hammer, the new one that Magnus gave you, cracks into an uncovered and frankly filthy skull. Eyes bulge and pop from the pressure before the rest of the head goes, and another splash of sticky red splatters across your body.

    (Front Lines 1 36/100)

    So much of the earth has already become churned by the battle, adding the blood in only makes it worse. You slip on a man's intestines that have become strewn across the ground, and collapse to the earth. Your army crunches the bones of a corpse, even while the horror of a disemboweled ogre's face stares back at you. A heavily notched axe slams into your chest, and for a moment you wonder if that is how you'll die, only to realize just as the Norscan who attempts to tug his weapon back up that it has become lodged in your armor. You can feel the edge just barely on your chest, and you have no doubt that your skin was lacerated at least somewhat.

    Then a Greatsword fulfills his duty and literally bisects the man at the waist. You do not know the man's name, and perhaps never will as his helmet has completely covered his face. But he is enormous, and rips the axe out of your chest armor with no effort whatsoever and literally wings it at another charging savage to catch them in the chest. With one hand he hauls you all the way to your feet while swinging the weapon that his rank is known for to block a gore covered raider's blade. His armored boot kicks up into loincloth of said foe where it impacts with a disgusting welt squelch before slamming his armored helm into the raiders face, breaking a nose, several teeth, and one of the eyeballs like an egg.

    Combat swirls, and you are on your feet, and the Greatsword is gone. Brain Wounder begins to cut at the Norscans, and for a moment you are simply just in the fight. But something manages to pick up the swordsman you found yourself fighting alongside and throws him off into the dust and mud. Instincts scream and you raise the Runefang up into a block just as a blade covered in whorls that glow in with a disturbing hue of crimson comes slamming down. Apparently this was the wrong thing to do as the look of confusion that someone didn't just die immediately brings a look of such joy to his face that it looks rapturous.

    "Yes. Yes! Give me your SKULL!"

    (Khornate Champion 12/100)

    Up until this point you had thought that you were a rather respectable fighter. You were quite good, and your grasp on tactics was a fine thing indeed. But where your martial abilities were a combination of training, books, and actual combat, whoever this man is apparently only ever focused on actual combat. And strength.

    There is no way for him to shatter Brain Wounder, but that is fine because he apparently intends to wound everything else. No matter how hard or fast you move your blade his is there in exchange, smashing again and again. The runes on your weapon flare wildly, as do the crimson runes on the Norscans weapon. There is no actual conversation, only desperate defense as he hacks and cuts and stabs, a wild dervish that makes your bones rattle in your body with every single clash of your blades. Then it finally happens, with one hand he grasps Brain Wounder and pushes it aside even as it tears his hand into tatters, and slices downward with his sword. The plate that saved your life earlier crumples and you scream in pain as the jagged edges of the Norscan's weapon drag across your chest from shoulder to hip. White hot pain nearly knocks you unconscious, were it not for the alcohol brimming through your body numbing it only somewhat.

    Your blood lands upon the blade where the runes glow with ever brighter intensity. The Norscan grins, and raises his blade high even as you struggle to raise any of your weapons to your defense. Or even simply roll away.

    "Your skull is mine, warrior!"

    (Last Chance 90/100)

    "AWAY FROM HIM SAVAGE!"

    A ballista bolt of ice slams into the man who would have been your killer directly through his torso, tearing apart and practically obliterating everything beneath his pectorals. The flesh surrounding the gaping hole turned black and dead while the whole of his body has turned blue such is the sudden change to his internal temperature. The look on his face is not one of pain, but of honest confusion and…disappointment? He looks down at you, and actually shakes his head.

    "Shame, warrior. Worthy…but then magic? Tut tut, now your skull is going on the bottom of the Throne."

    Then he topples over, with that same look of almost parental chastisement, the red whorls on his blade going out like a guttered torch. You blink blearily through the horrible haze of pain before you spot Greatswords surrounding you with several black armored figures that you feel like you should recognize standing shoulder to shoulder with them. Then the most beautiful thing you've ever seen looms over you.

    Who then upends the contents of a flask onto your open chest wound. Cleansing ostka drenches your open wound, and suddenly the haze is gone as your scream in pain again, but this time more aware. Natasha grimaces at you before placing her unnaturally cold fingers along the enormous tear into your flesh and muscles.

    "I liked your skin when it didn't have this. Alas. Come, hammer man!" she barks out.

    A balding hulk of a figure comes into your sight, such as it is lying on the ground. Both his hammer and his free fist are covered in blood, though for now he holsters his weapon and retrieves a book at his side. The well cared for combination of armor and robes show some recent wear and tear, but you can tell they are of fine quality. He frowns at the sight of you, and kneels next to you.

    "My apologies Count Hohenzollern, an entire band of fellows like that one pushed their way to the front and distracted a good number of our best from noticing what was going on. Damned Khornates. This wound is deep, and I can feel the disgusting touch of Chaos on the blade he struck you with. I shall heal you, but I must warn you that the pain will be immense," he says in a voice like grinding stones.

    You look askance at him, then down at your chest where you can see the torn muscle fibers beneath your skin and the blood welling about you. Natasha looks at you with an actual look of concern on her face. The pain of your wound, both from the strike and the cleansing alcohol, blurs together with the various aches, pains, and exhaustion that you've already received upon this battle field. You gesture with your mouth at your wife who understands and tips the remains of her own flask into your mouth. All of the ostka within is drained into your stomach, dulling the pain an appreciable amount.

    Now it only feels like trying to breathe glass instead of hot glass.

    Then he places his hands onto your chest, and begins to mutter.

    (Sigmar's Worst Worshipper 54/100)

    He wasn't lying. Pain cascades through your body as a bright light bursts from around the priest of Sigmar. You can faintly hear the battle, before something rumbles the earth that you've never heard before. Something vaguely spherical flies through the air, and when you feel the thump of its landing screams go up from Norscan throats. Ah, the cannons then.

    The light is a mixture of gold and bronze, and though it is somewhat soothing it cannot take away all the pain. You watch, fascinated, as the ragged line that now covers your front closes. The muscles mend, a light washing over them leaving them healed. Your skin is not quite so lucky. It scars over immensely, leaving a gnarled and twisted line that looks more like a flattened tree root than anything else. Even now it pains you, though significantly less so than before. The priest frowns at the sight of the massive scar.

    "My apologies, Count, but this is the best I can do for you at this moment. The blade that Norscan possessed was a powerful one, and must be destroyed post haste if the difficulty the wounds it causes can make difficulty even for me," he says apologetically, frustration in his voice as well.

    Shaking your head, you take your wife's hand and stand up, wincing at the pain. The new scar throbs. If there were any gods you truly put faith behind, you would be swearing at them. That could have been it right there, you could have died.

    "Can I fight?" you ask after taking another swig, this time of beer from an offered Greatsword. Apparently the ostka has run out.

    The Warrior Priest smiles.

    "You are one of Sigmar's own. What do you think?" Then he turns and is off into the battle.

    Natasha snaps her fingers to grab your attention.

    "The plan is sort of ongoing, but that failed charge has broken our ability to fully cover the Norscans without immense difficulty. A complete encirclement of their forces is impossible without something changing. What should we do?"

    A Norscan nearly leaps over one of the Kreml Guard who catches the woman with the shaft of his halberd and then stomps her skull into wet chunks. The rest of those who protect the small oasis of peace on the battlefield similarly kill those who approach.

    You frown.

    "Well…"

    [] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.

    [] Screw It, Link Up: The encirclement plan failed utterly. It's time for a new tactic. Drive forward until your forces can link up fully with the currently still surrounded Bull Warriors. With both of your forces together, tear apart the Norscans who attack you. This would combine your forces and make it harder to encircle you yourself should the enemy try whatever it is what they did to your father.

    [] Write In

    Note: Frederick Gains Trait: Scarred – Cut from left shoulder to hip is a gnarled branch of scar tissue gained from a Khornate Norscan at the battle of Salkalten.

    NoteNote: This game may or may not just give out traits that don't give bonuses or whatever. Scarred, in this case, will not give Martial. Thinking on it, that makes no sense for Mists either. I won't change stats in that game though. Just remember that these are two separate universes of Warhammer….and stuff.
     
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    • [X] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.
     
    [X] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.
     
    [X] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.

    We have to push this thing through.
     
    Krain said:
    Yes but I don't want there to be anything remaining of this asshole's work.
    When he goes to Khorne's throne, without his sword, I don't want him to be able to point to us as proof that he did anything.
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    Scars are very common in the Fantasy world Krain, it's very likely we'll never get rid of it. And the guy's dead, so he's all ready on his way.
     
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    [X] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.
     
    [X] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.
     
    [X] From Magnus, With Fury: Order the Imperial Foot to assist in completing the encirclement. The plan can still work, you just need to regain momentum and control of the battlefield. While those from the Empire strike across along the east, you shall guide your forces across the west. The ogres will go with the Imperials as well, as they are the strongest fighters you have, if not the 'best' as it were. You shall have to rely on your numbers while the southerners will have to rely on skill.
     
    I gotta say, I love how its like the Rieksguard are these awesome knights and everyone's all woo hoo about them, but the infantry component is supposed to be just as awesome, just on foot. They just don't get as many accolades.

    Maybe its because they're called The Foot :p

    Like, what Chaos dude is going to go "Blast, they've sent The Foot!"

    it just makes me laugh a bit
     
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