Friday, September 28, 2012

Echoes of War

"Naval tactics is a symphony of many different and elegantly carved elements coming together in a crescendo of success."
-Demion Gezeal, High-Admiral of the Dominion

"To Limbo with engine tolerance's, RAM THE SHIP!"
-Captain Oineir Helibar's "last order"

"Thalássio , mas kathodi̱geí pros ti̱ níki̱!" (Thalássio, guide us to victory!)
-common writings on Stygian ships

"Elves of Galmanear, before you stands the strait of Heij, the gate way to our realm. Just beyond that gate, lies a fleet of vile goblins ships, many of which would not be sea worthy if they had not stolen them from us in the first place. Tell me, can we allow such an injustice to be seated so close to us? Nay I say; Nay a thousand times over! So long as we breath, we must never allow them to mock us in such away. We must destroy them, for the honor of your families, for the honor of Galmanear, and for your own honor! Attack!"
-Prince Felimen Galea

"Me father was a bastard born at sea,
me mother was a bar maid, servin' week old mead,
they came to together fur a good time,
and left me there with only a lime.

I grew up on the streets, a proper urchin was I,
once even robbed the dry docks, did I,
till, one day I heard a crier crying a most glorious cry,
that i'll never forget till the day I die:

'Hey there lad, sick and tired of your life?
Wish you had some place to sharpen that knife?
Come to Hellspout an' you'll see,
how grand tis a life at sea.'"
-The opening part of a sea sailor's shanty, a popular ballad in Hellspout

"...watz 'tacktikz'?"
-Trol werlad Fermuncha, after defeating HighAdmiral Demion Gezeal

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Legends of War:Forward, March!

"Left! Left! Left, Right, Left!" The drums barked.

OiHeinmen marched in perfect unison with the drums orders, as did all 200 of the other men of the 297th Veilmeer conscript legion, A platoon. Each footfall sounded like the ground was shaking, loud enough to mute the sound of artillery, and as fearsome as a bull. The flag even furled in time with the rhythm, each proud wave denoting this unit as property of Garmaria. These were the sons of Garmaria about to set out on their right of manhood: first battle.

Around him, other platoons from the 297th conscript legion marched forward, but had to give the lead to the greatest platoon of them all. Behind him, a battery of artillery sung their hearts out, lobbing righteous death upon the foes of their fore fathers. Ahead of them, a company of fusileers was poring volley after volley into the enemies. OiHeinmen was a little mad that he couldn't see the enemy, but was content with the situation as it was. After all, they would soon be slashing their foes to-

"Platoon, Halt!" Ordered the drums.

The platoon obliged, but with a noticeable air of confusion. They were a mere forty yards away from the fusileer's company, and it became apparent that all of the legion had stopped. OiHeinmen felt confused: wasn't their duty to stop the enemy at all costs? Why aren't they deployed ahead of the fusileers, where they can use their swords? Looking at the sword resting on his shoulder, OiHeinmen noticed something else odd: a fusileer regiment was digging in behind them.

No one had time to ponder the implications of this, for it quickly became apparent that the fusileers in front of them had given up on volley firing. The regular rhythm they had come to expect was now nothing more then men firing whenever they pleased. OiHeinmen was on the verge of going over there and teaching them a lesson when he started to hear screaming. It was faint at first, but it tripled in intensity every second, and was overlapped with bellows of increasing rage, strong enough to shatter mountains and to freeze the blood of a mountain. Then the 297th conscript legion saw their first Troll.

That is not to say they hadn't seen Trolls before, it was just always as woodcuts in the Garmarian Review or The Daily Codex, or as pictures at magik lantern or picture reel show. The real Troll was much more terrifying: standing at seven feet tall, gripping an axe the size of a horse leg, with three yellowing tusks (one of which went down in the middle and was splattered with red at the end), pointed ears as sharp as knives, and blue skin popping with veins and muscles. It was clad in old leather, covered with rusting scraps of metal, and a helmet that used to be a human. But, they didn't immediately notice all of these qualities. The first thing they noticed was that he had decapitated a man in a single swing.

A ripple of fear traveled through OiHeinmen, and the platoon as a whole. Some of the men from one of the other platoons even threw down their weapons, and began to run away. Somebody shouted something OiHeinmen couldn't understand, and the fusileers behind the retreating platoon opened fire. Needless to say, they set a very good example. Still, OiHeinmen considered running when-

"Raise, Shields!" The drums demanded.

Following his breeding, OiHeinmen raised his shield from his left side. Because he had no other orders, he looked forward and saw about a hundred more Trolls hacking through the fusileers with the same ease as the first. They were still putting up a fight, but even their guns wouldn't block a Trolls attack, being dispatched with the same ease as its owner. A few of the men even had shields like the one OiHeinmen had, but these proved to be as effective as blocking with the bare arm, and one man's arm was even jarred from its socket on impact. OiHeinmen winced as the man, clutching his useless arm, was silenced by the same Troll, who's laughter mocked him.

OiHeinmen was now furious. That man had died for Garmaria, and all that Troll could do was laugh? What right did these creatures have to mock the sons of Garmaria, who were the rightful masters of this world? What right did these creatures have to live? NONE!

"Ready, Arms!" Sounded the drums.

By now the feeling of fury had spread to the platoon as a whole. How dare they mock Garmaria! They all took their swords from the resting place on their shoulders and went from cupping the hilt to squeezing it. They knew what their duty was, and they knew what they had to do. But they were still those who were scared.

Then someone began singing a child-rhyme. They all knew it by heart, and, despite the imaturity of it all, they all sang:

Oh my mother, cry not for me.
Oh my father, cry not for me.
I go to war for the sake of you, mother.
I go to war for the sake of you, father.
I go to war for the sake of everyone.
If I die on the fields of war, cry not for me mother.
If I die on the fields of war, cry not for me father.
For I died for your sake, mother.
For I died for your sake, father.
For I died for the sake of everyone.

Everyone sang this, except OiHeinmen. He sung a sung only he and his father had known:

One more time to the maw of Limbo,
One more time to the heart of the storm.
One more time to the heat of battle,
for this is the last great battle I shall known.

And then the drums gave the last order OiHeinmen would ever know:
"Forward, March!"

Monday, September 10, 2012

General Proclomations:Ist wave Army lists

 We have the army lists for the first wave armies' boxed sets made up.
 
Dwarfs

Dwarf Lord 75pts
heavy armor 5pts
axe 5pts
shield 5pts
total 90pts

Dwarf Bard 50pts

2xBombards 125pts

3xstonedwarfs240pts

Dwarfwarriors100pts
banner 10pts
war horn 5pts
champion 5pts
axes 20pts
shields 20pts
heavy armor 20pts
total 180pts

Dwarfwarriors100pts
banner 10pts
war horn 5pts
champion 5pts
halberds 40pts
heavy armor 20pts
total 180pts

Dragoons 110pts
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
total 120pts

total 985pts
 
Elves
Elf noble 80pts
shield 5pts
mace 5pts
dragon 35pts
shining armor 10pts
total 130pts

Elf captain 65pts
army banner 25pts
total 90pts

2xsages 210pts (one commoner, one noble)

elf warriors 120pts (commoner)
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
spears 15pts
total 155pts

elf warriors 120pts (nobles)
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
elven armor 30pts
shields 15pts
maces 15pts
total 200pts

Elf bowmen 150pts
banner 10pts
warhorn 5pts
champion 5pts
elven armor 30pts
elven bows 15pts
total 215pts

total 990pts
 
Scarecrows

Leader 90pts
zap cannon 10pts
total 115pts

2xreapers 120pts

2xbarrelroller320pts

2xprotectors 300pts

slaves 80pts
prods 80pts
total 160pts

total 1000pts

Stygian Army(by Nikola Dabic):

-Strategos (Warhorse, Spear, Shield, Army Banner) - 145pts
-Perioikoi (Shields, Warhorn, Banner, Champion) - 140pts
-Hoplites (Warhorn, Banner, Champion) - 160pts ×2
-Toxotes (Longbows, Warhorn, Banner, Champion) - 140pts
-Hippikon (Warhorn, Banner, Aspis, Light Armor, Spears, Champion) - 200pts
-Petrobolos (no ugprades) - 50pts

Overall, an army of exactly 995pts

Any comments or questions would be appreciated, and these lists still might change in the near future. 

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Art of War: Map of the Convict Islands

This is a map of the infamous Convict Islands. Please note that the band at the bottom represents the Grand Line, the Eye of Thead is on the top left corner, and the small island on the right is Lighthouse Isle.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Legends of War: Terat Felmerat, Dream-rat

Terat crept up slowly, then stopped and listened. Then he crept up again, then stopped and listened. He then repeated the process, until he was on the top of the wall, and even then he just stuck his snout through the parapets and sniffed. He then looked over, and then put his head down.

This is it he thought this is the place I have seen in my dream.

The day before, Terat had been a normal Ratkin living a normal life in a normal invasion fleet headed for Stygia. The fleet in question was supposed to be well supplied, but a pirate raid, combined with a freak storm, had cut off their supply lines and decimated their stock of weapons and gun powder. So they had to go some fast, or else the whole invasion would fail. Unfortunately, rat-scouts and wer-rats had confirmed that the only place within striking distance with gunpowder was a Garmarian fortress, and, unless they wanted scythes and pitchforks, it was also the only place with weapons. The Storm Captain in charge of the raid, dreaded that he would lose all of the Rats in the invasion fleet, and still wouldn't have have anything to show for it, other then some piles of dead.

 And then yesterday, Terat had had a very odd dream. It was so odd in fact, that he told it to his best friend who told him to tell it to the rat-priest, who brought him to tell it to his rat-chief, who finally brought him to the Storm Captain and Storm Priest who listened intently. When Terat had recounting his dream, he was declared a "Dream-rat" by the Storm Priest. Then the Storm Captain, having seen Terat's confusion, had explained to Terat that a Dream-rat was a chosen among Ratkins, who had been selected by Siçovul taun to fulfill Terat's dream in real life. Terat acted enthusiastic, but that was because he hadn't told them about the green shirted man.

So here he was now, after he had successfully killed six sentries and one guy who had simply been answering "the call" in the wrong place (his favorite part of the dream). Then, Terat had scaled the wall (it was as if the hand-holds had been made for him) and the last sentry was in his sights. What worried Terat is, he couldn't remember how he got from injured sentry with two canes, to explosion, to dodging bullets, to guy with green shirt. Actually, Terat had forgotten about sentry with two canes. But he had a grey shirt on so it was all good.

The man was walking to a tower on the wall, with a bell and maybe signal, but empty, and seemed to be hobbling as if both of his legs had been damaged, but that he had been declared "fit-for-due-tee" by some Garmarian or another. The man was making so much noise, that Terat couldn't even hear himself breath. Terat moved slowly, and silently behind him, waiting for him to enter the tower. When he did enter the tower, he had stopped, like he had to re-fix his boots, and that is when Terat struck. 

Wait, how is he...

Terat had realized the ploy to late. The man had blocked Terat's knife with one of his wood covered clubs, and had brought the other one crashing into his skull. Terat flew back two tails and landed hard on his back, but wasn't out. He got up in time to see the man cocking his pistol. Without thinking, Terat threw his knife, which, as luck would have it, lodged directly in his throat and threw him down. However, he must not of died instantly, because his gun still shot off.

The shot had barely left the gun, before warning bells began to be run, and the area was almost immediately bathed in light. It was then that Terat noticed something: a thick double door was open about fifty tails away, and inside of it were barrels. On the Barrels, was a black skull with two torches and a musket, the symbol the Garmarians use for-

Gunpowder he thought that explains the explosion.

Wasting no time, Terat searched the body of the man he killed, and had found a wide barreled pistol with a single shoot and the hammer was seated in the middle of the gun, not to the side. Terat had never seen one before, and had heard only vague rumors of it (excluding its appearance), but somehow, Terat knew what this was.  Despite having no skill with guns in the past, Terat leveled the flare gun at the powder stores and fired. The recoil was immense, knocking Terat off his feet, but luck was on his side, as a bright red light corkscrewed into the stores. Even if Terat hadn't been knocked over by the recoil, the actual explosion was much greater.

It threw large amounts of stones, metals, and other unidentifiable stuff into the air, and seemed to have woken up the garrison too. When Terat had gotten back up, about a dozen or so soldiers were leveling their guns at him.

None of the have green on.

Terat immediately ran at them, and apparently they were horrible shots as not a single one hit him, a very odd coincident. Terat was among them and, before one of them with a grey shirt  could bayonet him, Terat had grabbed the guys gun, and had forced the but into his face. The man fell back stunned, and Terat wasted no time in bringing the pointy bit into the mans face. Terat then used the gun as a sort of pole vault (it was stuck) and managed to land his foot claws into another mans eyes. Another man, of a somewhat higher rank (or lower, Terat never learned how to tell how good something was) came at him with a sword, but, Terat was quicker, and all he hit was a blind man.

Terat took this opportunity to scamper away, and had just come to an open part of the wall, when he looked left. Sheite. There had formed up at least fifty Garmarians who were leveling their guns at Terat. Terat did a frantic scan.

All grey he thought good. They all are grey. Maybe the green shirt isn't here.

And with that, Terat fell down a hole in the wall, just as the bullets came at him. For a moment he just laid there, enjoying his new found luck. But something seemed odd, the location looked familiar but...

A bullet whooshed past Terats head, and he saw that he had disturbed a grey coated man with a repeating pistol. Terat got out of the way of his second shot, and was running towards him before the third shot fired. All in all, his neck gave a real good snap and he was lying face down on the ground, his pistol now in Terat's hands. Terat had started to head down the hall, when he heard a door slam open. He turned around with all his speed and fired the pistol at the man with the grey coat coming out of the door.

AHHHH, he screamed, clutching the stump were his hand was.

His gun had misfired, taking his hand along with it, and when Terat looked up he understood why. The man had a grey coat on, but it was unbuttoned, and undearneth he was wearing a nightgown which was-

Green...

For a moment, Terat considered fighting the man, maybe even kill him. Maybe he could even cheat death and-

no he thought ...this is how it is to end. yes.

Terat closed his eyes and embraced the coming lead. 

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Echos of War: The Warning of the Dead

"In this fair year a crisis arose
 in a land where the legends are told.
And, the war at home, the nobles propose:
 we go to Arbi, the land of gold.

'To arms! To arms!', they all did cry,
 while sharpening sword, spear, and axe.
They said, 'We march now to liberate Arbi!'
 while readying their empty packs.

A thousand miles that army did walk,
 through snow, grass, water, and mud.
To the ancient land of tombs of dust and chalk
 and the left home a trail of blood.

Ten tribes of non-men they did kill
 and left ablaze, human towns numbering fifty.
The priests did say 'This is Beation's divine will!'
 while counting to when they need not be thrifty.

They came to the river, and in blood they paid the toll
 But on the other side what did they find?
Not a land of wealth and gold, but a vast desert and a horde of Trolls
 whom out numbered them by nine to five.

They fought all day and night on that cursed ground,
 but neither side wouldn't admit defeat.
All day and night Man and Troll would die and fall down,
 The land was a quagmire of blood was under their feet.

Eventually, the Trolls did leave the fight,
 and the Nobles and Priests screamed, 'We win!'
But, the Trolls had retreated to get better sight,
 of the army's destruction by a horde of Ratkin.

The families of the dead did cry off their heads,
 but the nobles at home had a different cry.
Instead, they stepped over the piles of dead
 and once again they said, 'To Arni!'"
-"The Warning of the Dead", written by Delmer Gale (executed for treason and heresy)

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Echoes of War

"Come now my brothers, we shall carve a glorious new world for our master."
-Heldien Forglaive, One of Chaos' "Warlords"

"Those pesky tall freaks. They think that just because they are taller then us that they can come in here, and cut down all of our trees. THAT'S OUR JOB! I don't know about you all, but I'm about to go and teach those good-for-nothing 'humans' a lesson! WHO WANTS TO MARCH INTO LIMBO WITH ME?"
-The highly irritated Gevel Helixgard before the Battle of Camp Lestwhif

"...W...T...A...aIts...hiS...W...r...ld...S...DeATh..."
-a claimed voice from the Heaven box

"My, just look at all these people. I know you have brought with you some torches, swords, pitchforks, and the like, but please: do not make this harder then it has to be."
-Shie'Wels, Ma'Tai merchant

"Wat wa did 'ear, wil prob-ab-le be ramembad as sum sort o' bad fing... FINALA ILL BE RAMEMBAD!"
-Trol Werlad Gor-iz-gon, before his ignominious defeat by an unkown Dominion militia trooper