8th Ed. Battle of the River Fort

Lifted from my ongoing, occasional campaign/story thing ..

Prologue

Living Gods

The living god Ta-Dino-Po, last surviving spawn of the mighty father god Doh-Oda-Toh (though many pygmy tribes had yet to learn this was so), had commanded every warrior of the Inni-ano tribe to assemble. The gathering was to take place at a sacred site of the ancient sibling gods Brobok and Besbak, which seemed an ominous choice to the Inni-ano’s chieftains and shamans, for never before had the living gods acknowledged the old pygmy gods. It had long been accepted by all the tribes that the living gods had driven the squabbling, immortal brothers into exile, and furthermore that Ta-Dino-Po, his siblings and his father were so filled with ‘here-and-now’ power that they had failed even to notice the old gods’ departure. The wisest shamans preached that the old gods had merely been dreamt by the living gods, a dream that had been forgotten upon awakening.

Of course that did not mean that the statues of the old gods had also disappeared, for they were very definitely not the stuff of dreams. They were made of stone, petrified wood and hardened volcanic ash-clay, and if the living gods wanted to chase them away too then they would have to use mighty magics or one of the Putoo Tribe’s stegadons to lift and shift them. Several of the pygmy tribes still harboured respect for the old gods, and secretly tucked away in recesses and even inside the (hollow) statues were the rotting remains of many a placatory offering. It seemed a very sensible precaution to keep both old and new gods, the dead and the living, happy!

There was something worrying the Inni-ano more than the strange choice of meeting place, and that was the terrifying rumour that Ta-Dino-Po’s siblings, the living gods Bo-Tana-Oon and Go-Akill-An, had been killed in battle. Such a claim seemed to make little sense, of course, for how could someone kill an immortal being? Yet a gnawing doubt ate at many in the tribe. Could there be some truth in the claim? The story was said to have come from gibbering Olobol warriors who had fled from a battle to the west. Of course every Inni-ano knew that you could not trust any Olobol, but this was a lie that even an Olobol would surely not dare to tell. To claim a god had died was blasphemy of the worst kind, which would inevitably curse the speaker of such words. Even the Olobol were not that foolish.

Not that anyone intended to question Ta-Dino-Po about the matter. The living gods were to be listened to and obeyed, not spoken to.

So it was that the tribe now stood waiting at Old Gods’ Gate - the entrance to the Sacred Gardens. They had allowed their gorillagors to stray into gardens, for it had long been accepted that the great beasts were gifted to the Inni-ano by the old gods, and as such they were probably permitted to eat of the fruit of the garden. The pets of the old gods eating the old gods’ food. Why not? The old gods were no longer there to eat it, and it would be a shame to waste it.

The rest of the tribe’s fighters, foot warriors and those mounted on pygmy boars, were arrayed in two cohorts upon either side of the gate.



Chieftain Ri-Ri-Kut stood before the gateway itself, flanked by his son, Ho-Ri-Gon and the tribe’s high shaman Pal-Lal-La-Ba-Ro. He was impressively dressed in his ceremonial garb, the skin of the first pygmy boar to leap the Oodle Gap and a green feather headdress. This was all much more imposing than his son’s loincloth and necklace of scarlet Dung Flowers. In accordance to the accepted ritual for occasions such as this, father and son held their weapons aloft, so that the shadows thus cast fell across their eyes. Pal-Lal hopped busily about from foot to foot as if the ground were burning the soles of his feet. Ri-Ri-Kut had no idea if that was the proper way for a shaman to comport himself at a time such as this, but considering the nature of shamans it was most likely that the proper way to behave right now was improperly, and Pal-Lal was even more contrary than most of his kind.



Suddenly, moving with a fleetness and grace the pygmies could only wonder at, Ta-Dino-Po arrived before them. He wore head and chest-adornments that glinted in the sunlight, and his green flesh (all the new gods were green) shined as if Ta-Dino-Po had only just emerged from water. Perhaps he had? Chief Ri-Ri-Kut waggled his bone-shafted, stone axe about in greeting, and was watched by the unblinking deity.



After a few moments, and just as his arm was beginning to ache, the chief decided that was enough and ceased his efforts. Trying to look humble and subservient, he studied his master for a clue as to what he was to do next. Usually this would be to listen, but the living god did not seem to be in the mood for talking. Then it occurred to Ri-Ri-Kut that Ta-Dino-Po was not looking at him, but behind him - staring at something in the Sacred Garden perhaps? Realising the gorillagors had simultaneously fallen silent, the chief experienced a surge of nervous anticipation and slowly turned around to see what had caught the god’s and monstrous gorillas’ attention. Every other Inni-ano warrior did the same, until the whole tribe was looking at a new arrival in the garden of the gods.



It was the greatest god of all, the mighty father Doh-Oda-Toh, floating magically and majestically above the ground on a platform of Goflainga wood, framed by a standard fashioned from two monstrous pairs of wings and guarded by his fabled Gorilla Guard. Every warrior felt paralysed, as if curare had entered their blood, for only the very oldest amongst them had ever seen the high god himself. Now the entire fighting strength of the Inni-ano tribe understood just how important this day was - the war they rumours told of was real, and perhaps even news of the death of Ta-Dino-Po’s siblings was true. Only such calamitous events could require the personal attention of Doh-Oda-Toh.

The Gorilla Guard, so rare a sight as to have made the youngest warriors doubt their very existence, were divided into two cohorts, one before and one behind the god’s platform. Their weapons’ cutting edges were made not of flint, but of viciously sharp teeth dug out of the mouths of ancient swamp monsters that had long since ceased to live in the world. Their shields were more humble, yet even they were studded with the hardened bone of legendary animals.



Doh-Oda-Toh’s platform was adorned at its front by a solid gold dragon statue, which although the size of a pygmy was dwarfed by the bulk of the god himself. His battle standard, the design of which had been carved into rocks by the entrances to nearly every pygmy village in the realm, was made of the wings of a giant parrot (considered the god of most jungle birds) and those of a now extinct species of terradon. Of course it made sense that a flying platform would sport such decorations.



Doh-Oda-Toh looked upon his worshippers with all three of his eyes. None amongst the pygmies could know if he was pleased or not, but his spawn, the larval slann Tadinopo, could see that he was momentarily satisfied.

Hopefully, thought Tadinopo, the other tribes would put up just as good a showing. And hopefully the resultant army would be sufficient to the task ahead.

Battle to follow

 

Battle of the River Fort

It had been a hard slog back to the river-side encampment for the Tabrizians, the effort of wading knee deep through miles of swampland combining with the ever present threat of renewed attack by Galdabash’s living dead army (its ranks no doubt now reinforced by their own recently fallen comrades). When they finally reached their destination each and every pirate experienced a profound sense of relief - the fortified encampment was still there, still intact, the boats and smaller ships of the fleet moored by the river side.

One or two of the hardier, greedier, most foolhardy men and dwarfs amongst them were still thinking of the fabled city of gold that they had come here to find, but the vast majority were simply glad to be alive. More than half would have been happy if the fleet captains now voted to cut their losses and return to Tabriz - but none spoke that thought aloud.

While the expeditionary force had been splashing through the swamps, the men left behind had worked some more upon its fortifications. A crescent of storm-poles now defended its gate, which combined with the cannon muzzles trained on the same spot should provide for a brutal welcome for any enemy who tried to enter that way. More storm-poles decorated the slopes of a hill to one side …



… and a raised, palisaded platform had been constructed behind the gate to mount the most reliable artillery piece and thus provide a clear view of the entire stretch of land leading to the fort.



Many of the trees closest to the palisade had been felled, not only to provide the wood necessary for the work, but also to ensure less cover in which enemies could hide.

Now Admiral Pasterkamp’s Tabrizians were re-united. His total force was as follows:

Pasterkamp's Remaining Force (Empire List, DoW as Rare, 2019 points)
Bartholomeus Pasterkamp (Lord), General, Pistol, Sword of Power, Jade Amulet
Captain Wilfrid Mostert Pistol, Talisman of Endurance
Old Codgel, Chirurgeon (Battle Wizard, Level 2), Dispel Scroll

25 Pasterkamp's Crew (Free Company), Full Command
25 Mostert's Crew (Free Company), Full Command
22 Thodrin Hookhand's Slayer Pirates (Slayer Pirates, Dogs of War )
25 Zazzari Marwan's Arabyan Swordsmen (Swordsmen), Full Command
with Detachment of 10 Crossbowmen
10 Estalian Handgunners
10 Pirate Handgunners
10 Maroon Handgunners
4 Leadbelchers with Thunderfist (Dogs of War)
2 Cannons (smaller variety)
1 Mortar

The Tabrizians were very right to fear what might come from the jungle, yet although there was indeed an enemy closing in on them, it was not the one they expected. Galdabash was still miles away, busy re-mustering his shambling army. Much closer, and moving through the swamp as only those born and bred in such an environment could do, was the army of the Living God Do-Oda-Toh.

The ancient Slann, long since abandoned by the other surviving Slann in this world, had (with the help of his spawn priest Tadinopo) summoned an army the like of which he had not gathered in decades. He had done so with some understanding of what they were to face, for he had seen off such raiders before - seafaring northmen with firesticks and gleaming blades of some hardened metal of their own devising. He was not so foolish as to underestimate them, yet he was wholly confident that the force he had gathered was able to defeat them in battle.

Do-Oda-Toh's Army (Legal Lizardman Army, 2552 pts)
Doh-Oda-Toh (The Focused Rumination, Unfathomable Presence, Soul of Stone, Focus of Mystery( (Lore = Life)
Gorilla Scar-Veteran with Piranha Blade
Tadinopo (Priest) - Level 2, Dispel Scroll
Chief Si-Ta-Pon of the Putoo on Stegadon with Stegadon War-Spear

24 Inni-ano Pygmy Boar Riders (c/a Saurus Warriors), full command
17 Putoo Pygmy Skirmishers, Blowpipes, Brave
17 To-otinak Pygmy Skirmishers, Blowpipes, Brave
24 Inni-ano Pygmy Warriors, full command, 3 Gorillagor (c/a Kroxigor)
21 Gorilla Temple Guard, full command
4 Putoo Terradon Riders, Brave
3 Salamanders (each one operating separately), 12 To-otinak Pygmy Handlers

The battlefield



Deployment

Doh-Oda-Toh kept his real fighting strength (Boar Riders, Temple Guard and Gorillagors) together on the centre-right, while a body of Pygmy Skirmishers backed up by Salamanders sneaked up on the right. Chief Si-Ta-Pon of the Putoo, riding upon his mighty Stegadon, had been momentarily delayed, but the Slann knew he was close behind and would arrive in moments. (Game Note: I forgot to place my Stegadon! It makes its appearance during the battle however!)



The Tabrizians manned their defences as best they could. On their left Wilfrid Mostert led his crewmen to lend support to Marwan’s Arabyan swordsmen. The Leadbelchers stood with loaded cannon barrels by the gateway, while Thodrin Hookhand had ensured that his men would definitely fight this time by placing himself in the gateway itself.



Admiral Pasterkamp positioned his own men on the far right, near to the mortar, and flanking the three companies of handgunners. The latter were hoping that anything approaching the gate would be subject to a withering hail of shot.



Sitting nonchalantly on his wooden platform, his Gorilla Guard grunting and snorting beneath him, Doh-Oda-To pondered. Of course, this was no different to any other time, for he was always pondering. Now, however, he was pondering what he might actually do when he stopped pondering and started weaving magics.



Admiral Pasterkamp was engaged in a species of ‘pondering’ too, though his was laced with fear and confusion, which made the thoughts somewhat more tangled the those of the Slann. He faced a strange and unexpected enemy - tiny native warriors, perhaps children, or perhaps some kind of Southlands’ halfling? If that were all then he might be laughing right now, but they had gorillas with them, vicious looking brutes, some of giant proportions. Worse still reptilian monsters were scattered through their ranks, with another (much bigger than the ones he could see) apparently crashing through the vegetation behind. And strangest of all they seemed to be commanded by a massive, bloated frog lolling on an airborne raft sporting a standard fashioned from giant wings.

This, he had to admit, he had not seen coming.



Fight to follow.

 

Battle: Turns 1 and 2

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Battle: Turns 1 and 2

From the mutterings during the retreat back to the fort, Pasterkamp should have known what Thodrin Hookhand and his company were going to do next. He had ordered the Dwarf to guard the gate - who better to do so? But Thodrin and his frustrated warriors had been so annoyed by the sweltering heat and the frustrations of the march that they now began to move out of the camp towards the first foe they sighted. Or, hoped Pasterkamp, maybe they were just moving up to make best defensive use of the storm-poles? That would be much more helpful than a foolish thrust for glory, but something told him it was unlikely.



Well, let the dwarfs take the brunt of the fight if that’s what they wish, he decided. Being little men, perhaps they were perfect for the role of Les Enfants Perdus? Meanwhile, he would have his pirates unleash a volley of lead and iron shot. Let’s see what these jungle primitives make of that!

First came two blasts from his artillery, sending a mortar shell to bring down four of the gorillas guarding the monstrous frog, and a cannon ball at the same regiment. Pasterkamp could have sworn that the ball hit the giant frog square on, green-tinged blood spattering across the now splintered platform upon which the creature sat. Yet, when he looked a moment later, the frog was still lounging on its floating platform, which would surely be impossible if it had been hit. Nothing could survive a cannon ball in its gut. Surely?

(Game Note: Pasterkamp was not mistaken. Amateur Lizard-player that I am, I had given the Slann no ward save or any such similar thing, and he promptly failed his ‘Look out Sir’. If the dice had come up a 5 or 6 then he would have been killed in turn one! Luckily a 3 was rolled which bought me time, not least to start looking up Life magic to see what I could do about a grievously injured general. I was pleased to see that Life magic was very much up to the job of putting things right!)

Next should come the sound of musketry, but there was nothing. Of course, Pasterkamp quickly realised, the enemy were still out of range of his handgunners and the conservation of precious powder was a consideration upon all his pirates’ minds. Similarly, there was no sign that Old Codgel, his wizardly ship’s surgeon, had managed to summon up any magic (cast:dispel = 3:2. Attempted spell stopped).

It seemed, thought Pasterkamp, they would have to allow the enemy to approach a little closer before they could loose a real storm.

And the enemy did just that, coming on right across the field. Their flying reptiles, faster than the marching warriors beneath them, arced over the two large regiments on the right to swoop down before them - as if they had a mind to annoy Wilfrid Mostert particularly. Three huge gorillas, even larger than the Tabrizian ogres, moved forwards towards Thodrin’s dwarfs while a swarm of pygmy warriors with flint-tipped spears and shields fashioned from a weave of grassy strands surged maniacally around their feet.



Behind all this a horned lizard bigger than a Southlands’ elephant stamped through the vegetation, with even more pygmies running ahead of it as well as riding a howdah upon its back.



On the jungle army’s left even more pygmies, armed with blowpipes and nothing more, came on in a crowd, with two green, scaly creatures as big as the Empire’s biggest kine being driven along behind them by yet more little warriors.



Suddenly the air seemed to thicken and sparkle at one and the same time, making the hairs on the back of Pasterkamp’s neck stand up. There was magic afoot, and it was of a kind far more powerful than Old Codgel’s cantrips and conjurings. (Magic @ 9:6) Some instinct told Pasterkamp that the ‘frog’ was the source of this new danger. He was not wrong.

Da-Oda-Toh, the father god, formed several magical intentions in his mind, married each to a fuelling eddy from the winds of magic and let them flow in quick succession into reality. Two spells, Earth Blood and Re-growth, were dissipated by the foe (dispelled and scrolled), but two more, the invigorating Throne of Vines and the protective Flesh to Stone, could not be stopped. Both he and his Temple Guard were now unnaturally tough, and better still, he had healed himself simply by bringing the spells into being (Game Note: 2W regained).

All this happened while Do-Oda-Toh moved not an inch nor even flinched. Such was the potency of his mastery of magic.



As Pasterkamp had guessed, the dwarfs could not restrain their bloodlust and burst between the storm-poles and smashed into the oncoming regiment of giant gorillas and pygmies. Thodrin, pistol in one hand, hook for the other, shot the Pygmy leader in the front rank in the throat, then brought his hook up to catch the dying champion by the chin before he fell, then tossed him up into the air like nothing more than a sack of plantains. His Slayer Pirates were no less ferocious in their own attacks and slew seven more pygmies. Although the pygmies could find no means of harming the dwarfs, the giant gorillas had less trouble and tore three of the stout slayers in two. But numbers favoured the pygmies, most of which (being behind the massive gorillagors) could not even see what butchery was going on ahead of them, and the little jungle warriors fought on.



While this melee was in full swing, the leadbelchers, perhaps unwilling to have such little men outdo them, also strode boldly from the defences and out towards the foe. What they could not know, nor even suspect, but the spawn of a living god was watching them from the jungle trees ahead - Tadinopo himself looked at them curiously. Grey, monstrous northmen carrying huge, hollowed tree trunks, he thought. Odd.



Old Codgel now managed to harness the winds of magic to his service, sending an irresistibly powered fireball sputtering and smoking at the Temple Guard. Two more of the gorillas now died, their fur burning and giving off a most noisome stench. But so powerful was his summoning that he could not encompass all the magical energies he had conjured, and the resultant ripple of energies that burst out from his person killed four the corsair crossbowmen stood with him. All he could do was apologise to the survivors, but none really understood what he said, nor what exactly had happened. They were discouraged, yes, but not enough to flee. Instead they lifted their loaded crossbows and let loose a volley, though to little effect. Thus was up to the many gunpowder weapons to deal out death.

First the cannons fired - or at least one did for once again the other misfired. Two more Temple Guard gorillas fell. The mortar crew, seeing the skirmishing crowd of pygmies as an irresistibly ‘soft’ target launched their deadly grenado accordingly. Thirteen of the jungle warriors died in the explosion, then the last four (absolutely terrified by what had just, quite inexplicably, happened) fled the field never to return …



A total of eighteen handgunners took aim at the exactly similar pygmy mob moving through the trees in the centre of the field (the ones with a skinny, two legged lizard at the front), but could not make their bullets effective as the foe was too far away and too well hidden by the greenery. The Estalian handgunners did at least take down one of the little handlers driving the suspiciously smoking scaly lizards.

Suddenly the terradons were in the air again, flying right over Wilfrid Mostert’s men rather than charging them. Releasing rocks as the did so, they killed six pirates, then came to rest once more right on river edge at the Tabrizian’s flank.



The rest of the jungle army moved up once more to close the gap between them and the northmen. While Tadinopo stayed within the protective canopy of the jungle trees, the skirmishers left him and moved boldly forwards …



… right in front of the cannon-carrying ogres. Lifted their blowpipes to the lips, twice in quick succession, they spat out a deadly rain of poisoned darts. Peppered from head to toe with the tiny but deadly missiles, two of the ogres fell paralysed to the ground! How could the ogres have known just how deadly a foe they faced? The last two survivors could only growl their anger at such a turn of events, a growl that was made considerably quieter when one of the pair also fell as a cloud of belched flame erupted from the scaly, green lizard being poked forwards at the skirmishers’ side.

The last ogre really was angry now!



On the far left of the jungle army’s line, the other Salamanders were nothing like as effective. One sent a ball of fire to fall short of Pasterkamp’s crew, while the other chose instead to kill two of it’s own handlers.



Peacefully, with barely a flick of his finger and a blink of his eye, Do-Oda-Toh once more wove magic all about him. First he blessed himself with Throne of Vines so that nearly all his subsequent spells would magnify in effect, then he wounded the last Ogre (but not killing him) with Awakening of the Wood, cast Earthblood on himself and his guard, and then Flesh to Stone on the Gorillagors and the Pygmies. In the process, he fully healed himself of all the harm the cannon ball had done.

Now the Dwarfen Slayers suddenly found the foe somewhat harder to kill (Game Note: Pygmies = T6, Gorillagors = T8!). So much harder, in fact, that the dwarfs failed even to scratch the foe, though four of their own number were battered into the ground. Such odds failed to dismay the dwarfs - in fact they grew yet more determined. This fight, completely one sided as it had now become, would go on. (Game Note:Unbreakable as they are really ‘Long Drong’s Slayer Pirates’ as per DoW list).



End of Turn 2.

 

Final Part of the Battle at the River Fort

While Mostert turned his regimented ship’s company to face the screeching, reptilian flyers, every other Tabrizian company held their position, although the arabyan swordsmen did shift over a little towards Mostert’s band. Old Codgel the wizardly surgeon failed to command any magical harm or benefit from the etheric breeze. When the cannons fired they too failed to hurt the foe, for one ball fell short while the other could not harm the magically protected gorillas. The mortar and crossbows proved ineffective too. The last surviving leadbelcher, perhaps realising this would be his last act in this world, fired his own sangranel-charged cannon at the same regiment, and did manage to kill one. Such a weight of powder and shot, and only one gorilla felled. Many a Tabrizian pirate noticed this, and a new nervousness began to spread through their ranks like wildfire.

Thodrin’s Slayers fought on as only they could, three pygmies dying for the cost of two dwarfs, and although somewhat ‘occupied’ with the fight, several dwarfs did begin to wonder if the Tabrizian men were going to contribute anything to this fight beyond blasting away with firearms.

There was a momentary lull in the rolling thunder that was the Tabrizian’s gunfire, and a piercing whistle was heard from the jungle army, a sound which sent four of their fighting units charging forwards. Two failed to reach their targets - the Temple Guard and Pygmy boar riders aiming at the pirates on the hill. But the other two did hit home - the Terradons engaging the crossbows in their flank …



… and the huge Stegadon crashing into Thodrin’s already hard-pressed dwarfs. The mighty beast crushed five dwarfs before it had even employed its horns and teeth. Chief Si-Ta-Pon of the Putoo hurled a javelin into the skull of another, his fellow crewmen killing two more. Finally, even though one of the gorillagors was finally dispatched by the slayers, yet more dwarfs fell to the stegadon and gorillagors’ attacks, until only Thodrin and two of his comrades were left. The Stegadon now threw itself upwards to then smash down both its forelegs, crushing Thodrin himself into a pulpy mesh and pressing his ruining body into the soft earth.

Now one Slayer stood alone against the jungle monsters!



It would be blasphemy among the pygmy tribes to say what I am about to write, but seeing his army thrive in the fight, the great living god Do-Oda-Toh was getting ‘cocky’, an attitude which led to carelessness. He first conjured Flesh to Stone to protect his Pygmies and Gorillagors (hoping to reduce the harm which must surely come to them when three bodies of ‘firestick’ northmen surely shoot upon them). But then he tried a weakly powered spell, thinking thus to sap the foe’s magical defences, but forgetting the turmoil that would be caused if his weak spell failed. It did fail, and his concentration was so broken that he lost his mental grip on the winds of magic and could cast nothing else for a while.

The skirmishing pygmies in the centre of the field laughed as they peppered the last ogre with so many darts that he was dead before he hit the ground. Their laughter was echoed upon the left, as although one Salamander chose to consume three of his four handlers, the other belched such a spurt of fire that ten - yes, ten - of Pasterkamp’s crew died screaming horribly as the liquid fire burned through their flesh. The sound of it, the stench of it, the sight of it - all proved overwhelming for the rest, and they fled as fast as their legs could carry them, Pasterkamp joining them enthusiastically to lead the way!



Out upon the other side of the fort, the Terradons slaughtered every crossbowman, Old Codgel amongst them, and hopped nimbly forwards to charge into the crew of the mortar.



The crew surely had no chance? What with the enemy closing in all around them, even behind them, Zazzari Marwan’s sword and shield carrying corsairs decided that they might as well push on and attempted to charge the gorillas guarding the platform seated frog-monster, but they failed to reach, hampered (perhaps) by defences their own allies had constructed. The fleet admiral was still running towards the moored boats, with no intention of returning to the fight (Game Note: Failed to rally). Captain Wilfrid Mostert, entirely unaware of Pasterkamp’s flight, turned his men once again, this time to face the oncoming regiment of pygmy boar riders.



Chief Si-Ta-Pon had killed the last of Thodrin’s Slayers, while the mortar crew had been torn limb from limb by the Terradons. The flying lizards with their pygmy riders now swooped between the hills heading towards their next target - another war machine …



… the crew of which stood in utter confusion, for it seemed to them (even their comical little powder monkey) that there was nothing at all they could do. Death, painful and certain, was coming their way …



This was the mood along the entire Tabrizian line, with every pirate now thinking how they might escape, for fighting on was simply not a realistic option. When the jungle army launched another series of charges, the real flight began. First the swordsmen fled as the Temple Guard and the smoking-mouthed salamander came at them …



… but the scaly, green beast caught up with them and began tearing them to pieces.

Off to the flank, Mostert also ordered flight when the boar riders also charged …



… while in the centre of the field the Stegadon, Gorillagors and skirmishers swarmed at the gate.



Now taking his time to bring about the magics he wanted, the slann Do-Oda-Toh employed Dwellers Below to kill fourteen of Mostert’s fleeing pirates, then Awakening of the Wood to kill another four. So fast was Mostert running, however, that in truth he failed to notice that behind him only his standard bearer was left alive!



In their own ways, both armies’ commanders now looked to keeping their forces as strong as they could. While the slann Lord magically healed three of his Temple Guard, hauling them back over the boundary dividing life and death before they had passed too far away, Admiral Pasterkamp shouted encouragement to his fleeing pirates so that they might board ship and be off without the slightest delay.



On the far right of the broken Tabrizian defences two dwarfen matrosses and their gunner stood by the mortar. One dwarf was holding a cloth to his bleeding right ear, the other was lifting a grenado towards the mortar’s muzzle, while the gunner stared blankly at what was coming their way.



It took only a moment for the hopelessness of the situation to sick in, then they too joined the general flight towards the river and the boats.

End of Turn 4. Victory to the Jungle Pygmies.

Game Note:Thank you Tom for providing a commander for the foe. I suppose you wish you had picked the pygmies for this game, now? Still, good game, good story.

BTW, wanna see what a ‘real’ casualty looks like? Prepare yourself, for this is an upsetting sight for any miniature wargamer …