Empire

Posted in Storyline, Warhammer on May 18, 2014 by justinmatters

`YEEEEEEEHHHHHAAAAAH!’ The goblin scout stumbled into the camp and fell face forward in the mud

`What is that goblin doing by Gork’ shouted Nom irritably from the tree stump he was currently using as his throne `you two, drag him over here’

The indicated goblins grabbed their companion, hauled him to his feet and supported the swaying figure over to their boss.

`FAAND AH STUNTY PUB’ warbled the goblin, hiccuping slightly `S FULL O TAYSTY LICKER!’

Nom’s face brightened `Any Dwarves at this brewhouse maggot?’ he enquired.

`M STILL LIVE AIN’T I’ said the goblin dancing a feeble jig between his companions to demonstrate

`For now at least.’ muttered Nom, raising his voice he called to his warband `On your feet lads its drinking time!’

With a cheer the littlest Waagh sallied forth.

Holy Reverend Knight Wulfrick Von Schädelhammer Warrior Priest of Sigmar pored over his maps of the valley. He was struggling to understand why so many warbands of different races were here in this forsaken valley. Almost every stream, hillock or building here appeared to be evil, cursed, poisonous or haunted so what possible value it held for the various marauders he could not hope to guess. However Sigmar must surely have sent him here for a reason and thus far his choices in battle had largely been blessed by victory. His eye was drawn to a building marked on the map near the centre of the valley. Perhaps Sigmar had guided his eye and this was the key, Wulfrick rolled up his maps and stepped out of his tent calling for his lieutenants. Within minutes his small command was on the march.

`Those damned dwarves are bound to turn up sooner or later. How are your preparations coming Nilt’ asked Nom-Arac

`Things are progressing’ squeeked Nilt

`I know that Nilt but how well. How are the spear chukkas coming along’

`Oh semi-finalised Nom, semi-finalised’ murmured the shaman

`And the cavalry and bows?’

`Almost done brother, almost done’ said Nilt plaintively

`So you are telling me none of your inventions are ready!’

`Um …. yes Nom … sorry Nom’

`I need a drink’ Nom stomped forward through his troops towards the Brewhouse.

….

`Our scouts have identified the building as a Dwarven Brewhouse and report an Orcish force advancing on it my lord’ reported one of Wulfricks lieutenants riding up to the main column of the Imperial command.

`Orcs? I thought the only major Orc forces near here were reported routed in battle’ queried Wulfrick, the idea of yet another race involved in the conflict here was not an encouraging one, the Empire had suffered some nasty reverses at Orcish hands recently `How many of the infernal greenskins are there’

`Oh I never said it was a large force my lord!’ the lieutenant grinned `Looks like its just a rag tag band of goblins if truth be told’

The Warrior Priest smiled wolfishly `Column halt! Deploy for battle!’ As his men formed up their Commander dropped to his knees and offered up a sincere prayer to Sigmar `Just don’t let them have any of those chaos spawned Squigs oh Lord’ he intoned.

….

`Hurry up with those Squigs you dullards I want a drink!’ shouted Nom irritably in the general direction of the luckless herders.

Nom turned to look at the distant brewhouse again and his eyes narrowed. He grabbed his brother `What!’ He demanded `Is that?’

A few hundred yards away up a small hill, a goblin was approaching in a strange bowlegged run. His progress seemingly assisted and impeded in equal measure by a bedraggled four foot long spider lashed between his legs with a length of threadbare rope, its scrabbling legs just touching the ground.

`Um experimental cavalry Boss’ yelped Nilt `Still in development. Thought we could try them as scouts to start. Inspire the younger goblins with the promise of adventure you know.’

`Inspire them to strange and unnatural crimes against nature more like’ said Nom watching with horrified fascination as the spider and goblin got their legs tangled together and rolled speedily down the slope towards them.

`Oomans!’ wailed the luckless scout in the brief seconds between him rolling to the bottom of the slope and having the enraged remains of his spider sink its poison fangs into his thigh `Faaasands ov ’em!’

Nom turned to his motley army pointing at the whimpering scout `Mark my words boys, if any of you mess up our next fight you’ll be joining the spider cavalry! And we don’t call them the twenty minuters for nothin’ !’ He looked from the brewhouse to the distant Imperials and drew his sword. `Let’s go strike fear into the hearts of men!’

As the goblins moved to advance Nom’s sword began to let out it customary eerie banshee wail before breaking off into a fit of sneezing. Nom glared at it ‘What!?’

‘I’m not feeling too good Master’ snivelled the sword hoarsely. `I think it might be metal fatigue’

Nom growled angrily ‘How can a sword get ill?’

`Loads of ways Boss, metal fatigue, heavy metal poisoning, loss of temper …’

Nom sighed ‘Why do these things happen to me’

‘A curse maybe? Or bad luck? You haven’t angered any Gods recently I don’t suppose?’

‘That was rhetorical you idiot’

‘Oh … sorry.’

Gurt, Halberdsman second class nudged his young comrade Sungar, Trainee Halberdsman third class in the ribs `I don’t think Sigmar listens much to Lord High Hoity Toity Wulfrick the most Holy Pain in the Ass does he?’ he whispered pointing to the herd of red toothy horrors bounding and leaping towards them `Every time he prays for something we poor bastards get the opposite. I bloody hate fighting squigs!’

`Shut up Gurt. You hate fighting everything.’ Sungar considered his statement for a moment `Well anything that is likely to fight back anyway’

`That my boy is called the voice of experience’ drawled Gurt. He paused to swat a fly which had landed inoffensively on the handle of his halberd before continuing `Longest serving man in the unit I am. And I say fighting squigs will be bad news in my experience.’

`But you don’t have any experience fighting squigs Gurt, none of us do. And the others say the only reason you are the longest serving man is because your conscription keeps being extended due to drunkeness on parade’

`Maybe, maybe’ conceded the older man `But that still means I have more experience of not fighting squigs than you do and I say that given the choice between fighting them and not fighting them I’d rather not fight them’

`They don’t look so bad. Look most of them look like they are smiling just like my dog Fang back home when I used to take him out rabbit hunting’

`Ever see what your dog Fang could do to a rabbit boy?’

`Yeah, he used to make a right mess of them, bite onto a limb and just shake them until they more or less came to pieces in his jaws ….oh……’

And then the squigs were on them and everything went red.

….

Nom grinned at the carnage on the left flank. `Charge lads!’

Nom brandished his sword but the usual hideous shriek suddenly cracked and ended in a moaning whimper. Nom glanced at the blade in annoyance then shrugged and led his goblins forward to battle.

The spearmen marshalled by the Brewhouse braced against the oncoming goblin hordes. Spearman Third Class William Son of Hud glanced to either side where swarms of goblins threatened to overwhelm their small bands of archers. ‘You hear something? Like a kinda shrieking wail that chills your bones to their very marrow?’

A man to his left whose name William had forgotten but who he thought of as one of the company’s hicks listened for a moment ‘Nope!’

‘You can’t hear an eldritch wail which is etching your very soul with fear’

The hick spat ‘Don’t reckon’

`I tell you I hear a shrill hellish cry which puts me in mortal terror of imminent doom! They are gonna kill the archers then come for us!’

The other man glanced at him lazily `I guess they are gonna try’

‘Oh no man, game over man, game over what the fuck are we gonna do now?’

`Maybe we could build a campfire, sing a coupla songs huh? Don’t worry about the archers, Jenette’s in charge of them, she’s so tough she often gets mistaken for a man’

`They’re gonna come in here and they are gonna …..’

`You’d better start dealing with it Son of Hud! Just deal with it because we need you and I am sick of your bullshit’ said the hick

The goblins crashed into their lines and for a short while everyone could hear William scream. But only for a short while.

The Hick and Jenette met briefly as the battle raged.

`Thought I heard something weird earlier’ said Jeanette

`Oh Hud’s son was saying that?’

`Sounded like a sword coughing and sneezing’

….

Wulfrick Von Schädelhammer brought his warhammer down heavily on the bulk of the Squig trying to gnaw through his leg through his chainmail and grunted with satisfaction ‘There lads that wasn’t so bad was it?’ He exclaimed turning to rally his troops ‘Now let’s go … get … lads? … everyone alright? …. anyone alright …oh….’

Wulfrick looked about him at the dead and dying. Men writhed on the ground in agony. Here and there with simple minded determination an injured squig was still trying to eat a man or in some cases another squig even as it bled to death. Some of his men were merely wounded but only the sergeant looked in any state to continue.

Exchanging a grim glance the two of them marched forward to join the battle against the remaining goblins.

Nilt-Siar looked about the battlefield, still rather dazed from the small but effective cavalry charge which had momentarily routed his unit. His brother’s warband appeared to be being slowly overwhelmed and there was no sign of the squigs. He turned to his troops ‘I think we’ll give the pub a miss today lads.’

The night goblins sidled quietly away. Behind them the other goblins got to learn about the military culture of the Empire.

They did not enjoy it. It was not over quickly. They did not get beer.

The following day Holy Reverend Knight Wulfrick Von Schädelhammer Warrior Priest of Sigmar sat on a stool outside the brewhouse supping on a beer with his Lieutenant ‘You fought bravely yesterday Lieutenant. I don’t recall your face however, are you new to my command’

`Thank you sire. And yes I am new, this is my first actual mission your Eminence’

‘Even more impressive then, what is your name?’

`Gorman sire, Lieutenant Gorman’

`Well Lieutenant you did well so I am going to send you to reconnoitre this hill’ he tapped the map between them ‘It does not have a name but the high command have designated it LV426. We had an outpost there until recently but we seem to have lost contact. Take some spearmen with you, you start can start as soon as we get those drunkards back on their feet.’ Wulfrick looked across to his grizzled sergeant at arms ‘Sergeant Apone.’

‘Yes sir’

Wulfrick pointed over to the snoring spearmen ‘Have someone go wake up those hicks!’

Elves

Posted in Storyline, TinyHammer, Warhammer on November 21, 2013 by justinmatters

`Easy on the mushrooms brother, you know how you get if you eat too many’ cautioned Nom laying a careful hand on the shaman’s shoulder.

`They help me think Nom and this Dwarven device is really tricky to understand’ said Nilt prodding at a metal lever on one side and absentmindedly sending Precious scurrying away to fetch another large mushroom from a nearby sack.

`Just looks like a giant broken crossbow to me bro.’ said Nom scratching his head and looking at the mess of pieces that Nilt and his fellow night goblins had managed to lash crudely back together

`It might look that way but there is an excellent winding mechanism to ready it and a very clever sighting system for accuracy Nom. Those Dwarves might be evil little gits but they know how to build a good warmachine’ Nilt ran his hands over the machine then yelped and sucked a splinter out of his thumb `I just hope we can get it working again or make our own copy, it’d be great to have something like this for ourselves’

`Can’t you just magic it back together?’ asked Nom irritably `Its all very well you messing about with this machine but this place is crawling with armed bands and we need your new toys sooner not later’

Nilt swallowed his latest mushroom and turned to the warboss `Its not that simple brother’ he said wearily `I don’t just wave my hands over it like this yelling by Gork and Mork be fixed!’ He gestured in the direction of the machine and a green glowing spark spat from his fingertips onto the machine. There was a sound like wood splintering but rather than breaking the machine seemed to be reforming and bending into a sleeker more menacing shape. Nilt stared at his hands nervously. His whole body was glowing gently `Well normally you don’t just implore Gork and Mork to repair things’ he quavered as another green bolt whipped pieces up off the ground and incorporated them into the machine.

`By Gork and Mork the gods finally favour us’ roared Nom. `Goblins to me, let’s go kick some non-goblin ass!’

He grabbed the nearest scout `What enemies are about?’

`Elves’ whimpered the luckless scout `But they are real scary boss, they look really organised and they are so precise and quick and …and…CLEAN!’

`Elves may be scary but we have Gork and Mork on our side’ shouted Nom to the assembling warband `How can we lose?’

The goblins looked nervously at their green glowing shaman who now appeared to be hovering a couple of inches off the ground. Having their shaman detonate as he grounded out his current huge magical potential and blow them all to kingdom come seemed a good bet to most of them. The goblins had heard from previous human prisoners that those the gods want to destroy they first made mad. Gork and Mork were rather more direct, those they wanted to destroy they tended to detonate in a fountain of gore in the middle of a battle. However cowardice while Gork and Mork were watching seemed even more unwise than fighting the elves Reluctantly the hordelet set out to give battle.

Glambrion Softspoken elven mage and patrol leader had a headache. It had started earlier today while his patrol had been following the trail of some ogres and got steadily worse. More disturbingly the elven leader could sense strange lulls and gusts in the winds of magic. Irritably he gestured in elven battle sign to the skycutter high above for a report. The reply was not encouraging. `Much movement in trees. Rapidly approaching. More than 100 enemies!’ Glambrion turned to his companions `The sky cutter reports over one hundred enemies, prepare to sell your lives dearly brothers’

The elves looked at each other grimly then took up fighting positions like a well oiled machine on the valley floor as the treeline ahead of them gradually revealed their foe. Their leader’s face gradually shifted into a savage smile. `It seems fortune favours us after all brothers. Prepare to vanquish Goblins!’ He began to summon the forces of magic.

Nom marched forward confidently. At the head of his unit There did not seem to be that many elves and they seemed to be drawn up in defence as if they were actually nervous of his warband.

`Seaguard target the squig herders, I don’t want those foul beasts getting in amongst our ranks’ Glambrion struggled to channel the winds of magic to support his archers, but the flows were so fickle, why would that ever be? He turned his gaze to the goblins , a small thundercloud had formed over one of their units and green lightening was stabbing down out if it. Clearly this ragged band had a shaman of some note.

`Use your damned magic Nilt’ screamed Nom as the first arrows started sleeting into his squig herd. The Shaman turned towards him, outlined in glowing eldritch fire his eyes blazing green and his face a mask of terror `I can’t think Nom, there’s too much, he turned his eyes to the heavens. Gork! Mork! Oh the gods, I see the gods! ‘ He flung up a hand and the rain of arrows burst into kindling in midair

Glambrion cursed under his breath and tried to refocus his energies but it was so hard, the other sorceror must be ungodly powerful, he was forming a veritable whirlwind in the winds of magic. Glambrion began to become nervous. Legends told of times past when the mighty Teclis could dominate the winds of magic in this way and the elven armies had been nigh invincible. But where could a ragged band of goblins have found such a powerful sorceror to sweep aside his spells. Well if subtle elven enchantment would not prevail he would try force, he threw up his hands and cast bolts of pure destruction at the squig herd.

The attack seemed to be going alright thought Nom. They were not losing too many squigs, though a number more herders had been felled by magical balefire, and a unit which had been routed by early volley fire was now returning. He ordered the advance to continue.

Nilt was completely befuddled by the powers coursing through him. In his dazed state he could only remember one spell and he started desperately casting it on every unti he could see, anything just to get the pressure of magic out of his skull. Overhead he clouds whirled about and began to form the shapes of two giant Orcish figures battling each other.

Glambrion could not believe his eyes above the goblins the figures of their primitive gods were written in the clouds, he reached for the winds of magic but the opposing mage’s power ripped them from his grasp. What little he was left with was barely enough to work with but he desperately cast a boon again in support of his comrades.

Nom’s goblins advanced uncertainly into a hail of arrows. However with one eye on the eldritch storm over his brother’s unit he failed to realise that all was not well with the squig herd. Elven arrows picked off the last couple of herders and predictably the squigs went wild. In seconds the goblins were being overrun by ravenous bagpipe crazed squigs. The casualties they caused upset the fragile confidence of the more superstitious goblins in the band and in seconds panic spread through the unit. Nom was forced to chase after his fleeing goblins shouting at them to get back in the fight.

Things were little better in Nilt’s unit. Their casualties were lower thanks to the whirling storm about their shaman but on the other hand their pace had slowed to a crawl. Nilt was casting the one spelll he could think of over and over but the pressure in his head was growing at an ever increasing rate.

Glambrion gestured his swordsmen and the sky cutter to deal with the fleeing half of the opposing army. His real concern at this point was to deal with the might of the opposing shaman before it reached indefensible levels. Never in his experience had a wizard managed to channel this much power, if the enemy mage was allowed to complete his spell his small scouting party would surely be doomed. `Charge!’ he ordered sprinting for the epicentre of the magical energies `With me brothers, we must finish this before their shaman can vanquish us.`

Emboldened by their shaman’s green glowing eyes and mouth the night goblins charged eagerly to meet the elven warriors. Only as the units crashed together did they remember how terrifying they found the elves! Things did not go well for them.

Glambrion battled his way through the etherial tempest to confront the glowing shaman. Reaching the shaman at last he swung his sword in a withering arc but disconcerted by the lightning arcing about the tiny figure he misjudged the height of his opponent and sliced the air inches above Nilt’s head. Nilt turned his glowing eyes on the Elf and raising a lightening sheathed hand flung eldritch fire at the opposing Mage. Glambrion winced preparing for death and was quite surprised when the only effect was a slight tickling sensation.

`What?!’ Glambrion exclaimed totally befuddled `You are doing this by accident?’ He lashed out with a boot at Nilt catching him a solid thump on the backside of the befuddled shaman `You really have no idea what you are doing do you goblin scum, I would kill you but clearly the gods smile on one who can toy unharmed with the winds of magic while having no idea what they are doing’ with a push Glambrion sent the dazed goblin running after his routed unit.

Gathering his units about him Glambrion watched the defeated goblins as they fled the battlefield

`We have the advantage sires. Should we press home the attack sire’ asked his lieutenant.

`No! The field is ours and I’ll not press our luck with that’ Glambrion gestured to the spinning ball of lightning, smoke and perhaps most bizarrely kittens whirling about Nilt as he fled `He has no skill but that shaman has power such as I have never seenand the Gods smile on him. Today is not the day brother, our time will come’ drawing his cloak about him he stalked from the battlefield.

Dwarves

Posted in Storyline, TinyHammer, Warhammer on October 19, 2013 by justinmatters

‘Hold still brother and we’ll have you sewn up in just a jiffy’ said Nilt, advancing on his brother with a huge needle threaded with scratchy hairy looking twine

‘I wouldn’t need sewing up if you cowards had not run away’ muttered Nom-Arac testily, wincing as his brother repeated stabbed the needle through his skin to sew up his wounds from their last encounter `Just as well my generalship allowed us to prevail.’

‘I thought it was a draw Nom?’

`Well almost prevail then!’ snapped the chief goblin getting to his feet as the shaman concluded his medical attention `Let’s go see what our scouts have to report’

He stomped out into the clearing around which the goblins were encamped and waved over the scouting parties sighing dispiritedly at their attempts to camoflage themselves for reconnaisance.

`What is that?’ He asked pointing at the top of one goblin’s head and wrinkling his nose

`Its a skunk boss.’ replied the goblin proudly prodding the squirming bundle of fur trussed to his helmet

`And why, by all that’s unholy do you have a dead skunk on your head?’

`Camouflage boss, everyone knows skunks are very solitary creatures so if someone spots me while I’m scoutin’ they’ll see the skunk an reckon there is no-one else about. Stands to reason don’t it?’

`But what about the smell?’

`The skunk ain’t complained yet boss’

Nom pinched the bridge of his nose, partly to control his temper and partly to lessen the stench `Just tell me what you found Stinky.’

`Dwarves boss’ said Stinky gleefully `Loads of nasty little Dwarves.’

`Excellent, I know my brother absolutely hates Dwarves, he’ll be eager to try his new weapon designs on them I’m sure’ he turned and shouted across the clearing to his brother who was playing fetch with Precious using a large stick. `How are your weapons coming Nilt?’

The Shaman turned around guiltily `Um, great Boss, great, me an’ the boys are in early stages of finalisation on them.’

`So you mean you’ve only just bloody started don’t you?’

`Er sorry Boss’

`By Gork there are going to be some changes around here! OK boys let’s go get them’

The goblins scrambled into their assigned mobs and following the none too gentle aroma of skunk, headed off to find the Dwarves.

They rapidly learned several things about Dwarves. Firstly they discovered that dwarves being small have a nasty tendency to be closer than they appear. Secondly they discovered that Dwarves being compact, sturdy and partial to draping themselves from head to toe in chain and scale mail are really difficult to kill. Thirdly they discovered that Dwarves hate goblins even more than goblins hate Dwarves. Finally Dwarves can be surprisingly fast over short distances, they appear to be natural sprinters.

After a nasty melee in which both Nom and Nilt managed to get thoroughly beaten up, the goblins managed to stumble off the field mauled but not utterly routed. And to the delight of the shaman when he regained consciousness the following day some of the goblins managed to grab most of the mangled remains of a Dwarven bolt thrower before fleeing the field. The heavy weapons project had progressed to semi finalised in one fell swoop!

Vampire Counts

Posted in Storyline, TinyHammer, Warhammer on September 29, 2013 by justinmatters

Nilt-Siar ran into camp mushrooms tumbling from his pockets, Precious running along behind like a happy puppy. He rushed to the pitiful piece of tarpaulin slung over a low branch that was now the headquarters tent after their recent thrashings

‘Trouble brother! Big trouble!’ he yelled causing his brother to turn round on the tree stump he had designated as his throne

‘By Gork and Mork can’t we get a moment’s peace around here?’ snapped Nom-Arac ‘What is it Nilt?’

‘Undead Bro, thousands of em!’ The shaman paused knowing his brother’s hatred of exaggeration ‘Well hundreds … well probably nearly a hundred … at least fifty … forty at a bare minimum’ he looked at his glaring brother sheepishly.

‘Forty! There’s over a hundred of us! We may not have finished our new weapons yet but we should be able to take a few mouldy old skeletons easily!’

‘If you say so brother.’

Marshalling the troops they headed back in the direction Nilt had run in from. Pretty soon they could smell the approach of the undead band.

‘Alright boys let’s go get these moldy skeletons!’ roared Nom moving his goblins up to a trot.

‘Yeah and the giant crypt horrors and wolves and the vampire too!’ squeaked Nilt restraining Precious as it strained on its leash

‘What!? You never said anything about anything like that’

‘You never asked.’

‘Gah! Very well’ Nom surveyed the opposing army then spoke hurriedly to the goblins near him ‘You keep an eye on what the vampire is doing, you monitor those giant horror things and you count up those wolves for me understand’ three trembling goblins knew better than to say no and nodded nervously

Nom looked about at his warband `Charge!’ His minuature horde rushed forward screaming high pitched battle cries.

`Five doggies boss’ reported the big nosed goblin appointed to keep an eye on the wolves ‘They are crossin da rivva’

‘They are out of the fight then, good let’s go for the skeletons and see if we can’t end this quick’

‘But the vampire is dere boss an dey is real killy like’ reported the fat goblin assigned to vampire watch, around Nom the goblins eased up their headlong charge a little at this news.

‘Horrors are butchering our mates Boss’ squeaked the tiny goblin apointed to watch the giant undead monstrosities.

‘Well its the skellies or the crypt horrors boys, take your choice’ announced Nom-Arac as the three horrors plowed into the neighbouring goblins throwing mall greenskins left and right with scything sweeps of their talons. Nom’s goblins took the hint and charged at the skeletons.

‘The nine wolves are on the other side of the river Boss’

‘Nine? I thought you said there were five’

‘Well there’s nine now boss’

‘Idiot! Count them again and tell me what they are up to’ Nom watched with satisfaction as his squig herders drove their squigs into the skeletons and tried to keep out of the way of the elegant murder being dealt by the vampire in their midst. ‘Change of plan boys let’s get those ghouls instead’ Eager to avoid the vampire his boys rushed eagerly to the attack

‘The fourteen wolves are charging the squigs in the side boss’ reported Big Nose over the clamour of battle

‘Moron! Count them again and give me a proper report’ Yelled Nom hacking down a ghoul and severing an arm from another.

‘You brother and his gobbos av run back into da woods to escape the Horrors’ squealed Fatso

‘The nine wolves are getting mauled by the squigs’ said Big Nose

‘Is that nine because they killed five or nine because you are a fool? Count them again!’ Ordered Nom dispatching the last of the ghouls and leading his diminished band towards the skeletons to support the squig herd

‘I think its cos they killed two of the nine doggies boss, there’s only eight now’ Big Nose jumped up and down ‘ Three more down that’s just six left Boss’

‘Thats better’ Nom slapped Big Nose ‘Though I have to say you counting is not!’

‘Horrors are turning round boss!’ Yelped Fatso

‘Vampire has routed the squigs boss’ squealed Tiny

‘That’s worse’ snarled Nom as a stray squig bowled over a whole rank of his troops. And then they were amongst the skeletons hacking at dry bony limbs

‘Our last squig just ate the last five wolves and exploded boss’

‘Five I thought you said there were six?’ Distracted by the unreliable wolf reports Nom was slow to realise that the figure in front of him in the melee; while undead; was less bony and far better dressed than the last skeleton he had dispatched. ‘You’re next deado! Oh Gork and Mork!’

Nom flailed desperately with his sword to no effect as the Vampire squewered him a couple of times with unearthly speed and precision. Nom fell to the floor clutching his wounds as the Vampire flung up his hands and uttered some eldritch syllables and sent a shattering explosion tearing through goblins and skeletons alike. This came as a surprise to all concerned not least the Vampire. He loomed over Nom looking at his still glowing hands in bemusement but would have killed him easily even so if the goblins’ musician had not stumbled into him from behind and accidentally rammed a wooden drumstick through the Vampire’s heart.

Carrying their stricken leader the remains of Nom’s unit fled into the forest to avoid the Crypt Horrors hoping that they might crumble to dust now the Vampire was struck down. They soon found the night goblins skulking in the undergrowth and demonstrated their disapproval of their comrades cowardice with sharp words and sharper blows.

Gradually they were joined by their wounded comrades as they crawled off the battlefield. Licking its wounds but for once undefeated the Littlest Waagh made camp once more.

Lizardmen

Posted in Storyline, TinyHammer, Warhammer on August 22, 2013 by justinmatters

The first sign of the Lizardmen was an awful lot of poison arrows raining down from across the small brook. The second sign of the Lizardmen was another awful lot of poison arrows raining down from across the small brook.

Nom-Arac realised that in their weakened state outrunning the Lizards was out of the question. While his brother started calling on the power of Gork or possibly Mork to frustrate the Skinks aim, Nom launched an attack against the nearest Skinks who were hiding behind a low mound on the far side of the river with his unit in support of the hunger crazed squig herd they had retrieved from another cage in the Ogres camp.

Unfortunately as they rushed up the hill Nom realised the Skinks had reached the high ground first; also they were armed with handweapons and shields rather than bows; finally and perhaps most importantly they were not Skinks. They were very angry Saurus!

To their credit Nom-Arac reflected as severed goblin limbs flew about his fleeing goblins, the squigs were really rather effective at dismantling, killing and eating even well armed and disciplined Saurus, unfortunately after killing a few lizards their bellies were full to the extent that they could no longer move and were easy prey for the remaining warriors. As for the goblins it wasn`t even a contest.

As he paused wheezing after his headlong flight he could see the last of the squig handlers being run down by the Saurus warriors. On the other side of the battlefield the goblins and night goblins under his brother`s command were walking forward hunched behind their shields into a blizzard of lizard arrows and a blizzard of …well…blizzard! Nom-Arac barely had time to pull his clothing about him before he found himself up to his ankles in snow. He tried to shout at his minions to rally but the wind whipped his words away and then the Saurus were upon them.

At least the snow was soft to lie on reflected Nom as the lizards completed their demolition of his motley force. Also it made the spilled goblin blood more obvious and the possuming goblins colder with the result that the reforming Lizardmen force was content to leave to escape the Ogres, believing their victory complete, rather than hanging around to execute the defeated goblins.

Their losses were actually surprisingly light realised Nom and Nilt as their ragged band picked themselves up and gathered together again. They had lost all the squigs but they should be easily replaced. There were always plenty of squigs in woods like these, they bred like vermin, grew like crazy and were avoided by everybody but goblins due to their combined traits of ferocity, unpredictability and inedibility making them quite the worst choice of herd beast in the Old World. Even goblins could not quite explain why they kept them beyond tradition and a macabre fascination with what was going to happen to the goblins assigned to herd them. Apart from that almost everyone seemed to be present, except for the unit champions and banner bearers he had appointed prior to their first ill fated battle. Come to think about it he had not seen them since before the first battle. He could not really blame them leading goblins was proving to be a thankless task.

He conferred with his brother. Despite their losses in the two fights being mercifully light, it was becoming horribly apparent that their goblins were not a match for a well organised foe. In particular their lack of any archers obliged them to charge forward while their lack of any skirmishers meant they could not pick their battles. Fortunately at this point Nilt revealed he had a scroll of ancient goblin tactical lore handed down from shaman to shaman from the great goblin tactical advisor Also-Sun and, just as important, the ability to read it. Screening the text carefully from his brother on the grounds that the scroll contained secret shamanic lore that would sear his brother’s mind should he see it, Nilt explained its contents at length to his brother. They would need to go deep into the wild forest on the floor of the valley to procure rare woods and minerals to construct deadly weaponry and to capture fearsome war beasts to ride into battle. Nom had to confess he was impressed with the insight of Also-Sun whose advice seemed particularly well suited to their predicament.

He rounded up the goblins and announced they would be rebuilding the Waagh deep in the nearby forest. Meanwhile Nilt took a last fond look at the masterful tactical advice of Also-Sun.

POINTY STICKS!
BITEY MOUNTS!
SHOOTY THINGS!
NASTY POISONS!

It was, he had to admit rather briefer than the explanation he had given his brother but the very wise were generally brief and to the point. The key as always was in the interpretation. He rolled up the scroll and went to rejoin the other goblins, Precious scurrying along behind him like a curious kitten.

Ogres

Posted in Storyline, TinyHammer, Warhammer on August 22, 2013 by justinmatters

The littlest Waagh were no longer resplendent. In fact they were huddled inside a large number of crude wooden cages. A smell of hot spicy vegetable stew wafted through the bars. This would probably have smelt better if they had not been so keenly aware that it was shortly due to become Goblin and vegetable stew!

It had all started so well reflected Nom-Arac. They had picked up the trail of what seemed to be just a small number of scouts from another army. True the footprints had been large but almost all footprints are bigger than goblin footprints. They had caught up with their quarry on some open ground near some buildings and their newly organised units had charged forward.

Part way through the charge it began to become clear that rather than being a small band of fat humans quite nearby the enemy were both further away than they seemed and also much larger. Then some giant cat beast burst out from behind a building and took a great bite out of Nilt-Siar’s leg. His valiant if slightly inept band of night goblins managed to turn it into a giant furry pin cushion but that was just the start of their troubles.

Clearly not thinking straight his brother had eaten all him magic toadstools in one go before casting a gigantically powerful spell which did at least diminish the unwelcome rain of giant chunky shrapnel from their enemy but rather more pertinently created a comedically appropriate mushroom cloud shaped explosion centred on the shaman devastating his band of followers.

Fascinated by the explosion and tired from the longest charge in goblin history the rest of the army slowed to a jog allowing the dazed band of night goblins to take the lead and collide with what was now clearly a group of Ogres carrying giant cannon like handguns. Nom-Arac groaned, he would have ordered the retreat but if his brother had not been vapourised in the explosion, then he was somewhere in the middle of the melee.

The next moment he was in desperate battle with the rest of the ogres. He just had time to realise they were all female before a blow from a ten foot tall Ogress rammed his helmet over his eyes and all he could see were stars. However he could hear well enough. Mostly screaming goblins as the Ogresses tore into them. At one point he heard the terrifying sound of enraged squigs nearby, but even they did not seem to be having much luck against the giant warrior women and gradually the sounds faded as blackness enveloped him.

When consciousness returned he had found himself disarmed and shivering in a cage with the rest of his warband. His brother was looking rather charred and was occasionally throwing up strange glowing funghi but did not seem as badly off as many of the other goblins who sported a wide variety of contusions and cuts. Looking out of the cage in the darkening twilight he could see their weapons heaped up tantalisingly close but just far enough out of reach to stop them using them to cut the rawhide bindings holding the cage together.

He edged over to his brother trying to ignore the mutterings from some of the other goblins to the effect that they were about to get eaten and it was all his fault. `have you still got that spider you were feeding and teaching tricks too Nilt?`

His brother groaned and reached inside his robes ‘Yes’ he took out the now rather large and splendidly ugly arachnid ‘why?’

`Have you taught it to fetch?`

The shaman looked at him then a slow grin spread across his features `Yes, I have, Precious is a very clever little thing` he leant forward and crooned to the spider gently pushing it out of the cage `go fetch Precious, go fetch!`

It was a while later. The darkness was now more or less total apart from the ominous cooking fires a few hundred feet away. Nom-arac looked down at the pile of items Precious had brought back and shook his head `I never knew there was so much useless stuff in the world until now brother ‘ he said surveying the pile of sticks, rocks, leaves and small envenomed rodents Precious had eagerly retrieved for them.

`its not his fault Nom, I never trained him to retrieve weapons` Nilt squinted into the darkness `No Precious not another twig, daddy has plenty of other twigs` he sighed.

It was getting light. Fortunately it appeared that the Ogres had had other eating options this evening. The entire area round the cage was now a barren wasteland of mud denuded of every living thing and significant pebble. The goblins were perched uncomfortably crammed against the roof of the cage atop mounds of sticks, rocks and dead animals. The only significant landmark in the mire was the untouched pile of weaponry perhaps ten feet away. Precious was slumped exhausted in his owner’s lap while Nilt spoke softly to him and pointed repeatedly to the pile. Finally tottering a little, Precious departed again and to the muted cheers of the goblins retrieved a small knife. As Nom used it to cut the cords and free them from the cage he realised with grim amusement that the only reason Precious had brought it back was because it had a rabbit fur handle.

Quietly the goblins retrieved their weapons. Revenge on the Ogres would have been sweet but the goblins were far too demoralised for it to be a realistic possibility. They headed quickly away from the camp and got perhaps half a mile before they ran headlong into the ftovers and escapees from the Ogre`s evening meal.

Lizardmen!

Portents

Posted in Storyline, TinyHammer, Warhammer on August 1, 2013 by justinmatters

Nom-Arac looked down from his clifftop perch into the twisting valley. He could see the fires of several encampments below him, whether the encampments were aware of each other given the ruggedness of the landscape was harder to say but he could sense future conflict. One pristine camp had the long flowing banners of the hated high elves, another the huge brutish structures of the Ogres, a more distant encampment was laid out in the military fashion of the Humans of the Empire and Nom-Arac thought he could sense the stench of undead from further down the valley. There was about to be a series of battle in this valley and he and his band were ideally placed to prey on any side which was weakened in the fighting.

Of course there was the small matter of who to attack first and how? Oh and where and when were probably important too? Nom-Arac would leave the question of why to the poets and historians. He was more interested in what supplies the different forces had and how well guarded they were. Orc led warbands always wanted glory and destruction. Nom-Arac was pretty sure his goblins would settle for new tents and a hot meal. He crept back from the cliff edge and walked back to the Goblin’s camp next to the nearby mountain lake. Time to confer with his brother and see what the spirits of Gork and Mork suggested.

“What say the portents brother?”

Nilt-Siar looked up from his position hunched over the entrails of a luckless snotling which had been to hand when Nom-Arac had asked for an augury to try to determine the plan of attack.

“The portents are confusing Nom” Nilt -Siar paused to feed a snotling morsel to Precious his pet spider, Nom-Arac noticed that it was looking larger and rather more healthy then it had a few days before when Nilt-Siar first found it. “I shall have to enter a trance and commune with the spirits”

Nom rolled his eyes “So you’ve gutted a snotling to no purpose and now you want to go eat a bunch of crazy brain mushrooms is that it?”

Nilt -Siar nodded enthusiastically. Nom-Arac sighed and tossed him the bag of fungi he had had some of the night goblins out picking. The mushroom expedition had not been a roaring success he reflected. About three quarters of the mushrooms had been subject to taste testing by the picking party who were now variously talking to rocks, walking into trees or sleeping off the effects, in some cases face down in the lake.

Nilt grabbed the bag reached inside and crammed a huge purple and green toadstool into his mouth chewing on it blissfully as his eyes rolled back into his head. Nom-Arac went to find someone to kick to vent his frustrations before going to bed. His brother would have nothing to say to the real world for hours.

Nom was awakened by a frantic shaking of his shoulder “Wassup, gerroff, lemme sleep”

“Wake up brother, wake up Gork sent me a sign! We went into the valley and it was overrun with hateful elves and they showered us with arrows and killed all our squigs!”

“That sounds bad”

“Then we got scared and fled and they shot a lot of us goblins, and that made us mad so we turned round and attacked them again but their wizard struck some of us dead and so again we fled, but some of us got behind the elves and charged them but the rest of us were too afraid and so we held back. Then we attacked but it was too late and we were all massacred.”

“So you are saying that we should flee for if we fight the elves will surely kill us?”

“No brother for then Mork sent me a vision. This time we fought against a vampire lord and we charged his forces on two sides and after a long struggle he crumbled to dust and we were almost triumphant!”

“Almost triumphant?”

“Well some more undead put us to flight”

“So we lost again?”

“No brother they attacked the squig herd and the last squig went crazy and dismembered them all so we won a great victory . Although not many of us were left by that point”

“That still doesn’t sound like a great victory. Who was commanding each of our units?”

“No-one, we just kinda fought in whatever groups we happened to be in I think”

“But that’s stupid why didn’t we have anyone in charge? What was the battle plan?” Nom-Arac looked at his brother furiously

“Well have you appointed anyone in charge or told the units what they are meant to do Nom?”

Nom drew in a breath to answer, and then stopped. His brother was right. He’d just assumed the groups would naturally acquire leaders that was how it always worked when there were Orcs around. Now however it looked like he would have to appoint some goblins to lead the units. And come up with a plan.

The following morning the leader of the tiniest waagh paraded his troops. They made a pathetic sight. The night goblins were suffering from a mixture of hallucinogen withdrawal and food poisoning. The other goblins were fractious as they were hungry and cold. And the Squigs were absolutely ravenous with hunger and barely under control.

“OK listen up, You, you and you” He pointed at the three least cowardly goblins he could see three squeaky voices tried to indicate that their owners were present but would rather not be volunteered for anything. “You three are now unit champions, you’ll lead our forces under my command” The three goblins brightened a chance for a little petty minded bullying was bound to be part of the perks of leadership.

“You, you and you” he pointed at the three biggest goblins he could see. They stepped forward more eagerly hoping for more plum assignments “You will be the banner bearers” There was grumbling only stopped by clouts from the new champions, no goblin liked the idea of carrying a heavy banner across a battlefield, you might as well paint ‘Gork and Mork are bastards’ on your armour, you could not be anymore of an arrow magnet.

“And you three” he pointed at three goblins from the squig herders “I’ve seen you with the bagpipes and the cymbals and so on herding the squigs, you are now unit musicians. This time the everyone but the selectees glowered. Goblin music is not highly thought of even by goblins.

“And now” said Nom-Arac “Gather in close boys, here’s the plan” He began to sketch in the dirt for the bemused onlookers invoking mystical words like flank attack and countercharge. Pretty soon Nilt-Siar tapped his brother on the shoulder. Nom-Arac looked up into the glazed expressions of the other goblins. He’d seen that look before when battle plans were being explained. Clearly his warband was now ready. Calling to the new champions to rally their units he ordered the advance.

The littlest Waagh came down on the scene, its hordes resplendent in black and green.