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Author Topic: An Age of Fantasy Campaign  (Read 809 times)

Offline KarwickWingmaker

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An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« on: January 14, 2022, 02:02:35 PM »
Part 1: The Battle of Sarrím Field

Kingdom of Esiron - 1452


Captain Eliza Tullio looked across the field at the undead host approaching her meagre defences. General Delmorté had ordered her to defend the town of Sarrím at all costs, and she was not going to let him down on her first assignment since her promotion. Adorned with her new set of armour and mounted upon the horse that the general had personally gifted her, she looked every part the warrior that she ought to, though beneath the stern-faced and steel-coated exterior lay the stomach-churning anxiety that all commanders felt when facing the undead.

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Next to her, sat upon his own horse, was a priest of Matéa, the goddess of Fate. His name was Alberto, and he had accompanied Eliza’s forces ever since her promotion which, until now, had not involved much combat.

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Alberto had already seen his fair share of war in his lifetime and had the scars to prove it, one great wound across his face telling the tale of his last encounter with a vampire. Ever since that day, he had always made himself available to raise the morale of the soldiers about to face the undead, no matter what plans he had to cancel, or the distance he had to travel. As long as his horse could get him to the field of battle, Alberto could be relied upon. He looked at Eliza, then across at their foe, knowing that whatever he said to her, she would be facing this particular challenge alone.
“There’s lots of ‘em,” he spat on the floor as he held his staff of Matéa for all of Eliza’s soldiers to see, “lots more than there are of us anyway.”
“Nervous?” Eliza smirked, doing her best to hide her terror at realising how outnumbered her small force would be.
“I’d be a fool not to be,” Alberto pointed at the hideous scar that divided his face, “though this didn’t happen with trained men at my side.”
“Or women.” This time she genuinely smiled, knowing that the idea of women leading men into battle grated with the priest’s rather conservative ideals.
“Aye,” he conceded, “at least a particular type of woman.” Eliza feigned outrage, but then they both chuckled, though in truth neither felt particularly jovial. As they both saw it, they wouldn’t leave Sarrím to face the undead alone while they still drew breath, and that would almost definitely mean never leaving the town again. Eliza was about to grant Alberto leave to raise the morale of her soldiers when a messenger approached them, bowing his head to Alberto before saluting to his Captain.

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“News?” Eliza enquired of the man.
“Reinforcements!” the words burst out excitedly between great gulps of air, he had obviously sprinted quite some distance to deliver the message. Looking him up and down, Eliza recognised him as an artilleryman, one of her own.
“Excellent news!” She exclaimed, turning to Alberto who was smiling to himself, obviously relieved, “who has come to our aid, and how many have they brought?”
“Captain del Petrillo,” he pointed to the south of the town, his breath coming back to him now, “I couldn’t count them all, captain, but he’s brought pikemen and knights, though I didn’t see what else,” he looked slightly crestfallen, “I ran straight here once I saw his flag.”
“You’ve done well,” Eliza smiled down at the man, making him blush as he looked down, sheepishly, “now back to your post, we’ll need all the firepower we can muster.”
The man bowed once more to Alberto before saluting to Eliza, then ran off toward the lines of soldiers on the outskirts of the town.

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Eliza turned to Alberto, raised an eyebrow, then began to make her way in the direction of their reinforcements.

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The time to exchange pleasantries was short, yet Eliza made sure to thank captain Samuel del Petrillo for his aid, making it clear that his arrival was not a moment too soon. After a brief conversation, del Perillo sent his pikemen to join Eliza’s ranks, and the majority of his knights joined him on the flank of the small force defending Sarrím, while leaving some to act as Eliza’s bodyguard, adding to the list of reasons for her to thank him.

* * *

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Dragos von Sangué walked calmly to the front of his undead host, grinning as he saw del Perillo’s paltry warband adding to the small number of soon-to-be corpses that would be raised to join his grand crusade of undeath. The town of Sarrím was just the first of many settlements that had to be captured, but Dragos felt little worry. The living would be forced to hurry to their defences, yet the dead had time on their side. He could see the commanders riding around on their warhorses. ’They look so small’ he thought to himself as grin turned to a bitter chuckle. He turning to Sergei Yonesku, a fledgling necromancer under his command, and waved his hand at him carelessly, as though casting him off. Sergei, knowing to take this as an order, nodded to his master, knelt upon the ground, and made a series of symbols in the air with his hands as he muttered dark prayers. The sky grew darker and the air filled with a necromantic mist as the undead began their march.

Offline Little Odo

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #1 on: January 14, 2022, 02:56:20 PM »
Great, atmospheric start to the tale, and nicely painted figures. Do you have a blog we can take a look at for more in-depth details?
Little Odo's Grand Days Out

Offline KarwickWingmaker

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #2 on: January 14, 2022, 03:35:10 PM »
Great, atmospheric start to the tale, and nicely painted figures. Do you have a blog we can take a look at for more in-depth details?

Thanks so much!

No blog but I could always make one ;)

Battle report coming tonight or tomorrow!!


Offline Grumpy Gnome

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #3 on: January 14, 2022, 04:55:50 PM »
My thoughts echo those of Little Odo. Great start, keen to see more.
Home of the Grumpy Gnome


Offline Tactalvanic

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #4 on: January 14, 2022, 05:09:09 PM »
Nice intro, looking forward to the rest!

Offline The Golem

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #5 on: January 14, 2022, 07:06:50 PM »
Like the fellows above, I enjoy your intro. Looks like your campaign is off to a great start  and I am eager to see what's next.
« Last Edit: January 14, 2022, 07:08:37 PM by The Golem »

Offline KarwickWingmaker

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #6 on: January 14, 2022, 08:11:50 PM »
The Battle

From the defenders’ viewpoint the ranks of undead had barely moved for what felt like an eternity, yet when the skeletons before them suddenly started marching toward their lines without any horn sounding or drum being beaten, almost all of the soldiers defending the town felt their chests suddenly tighten, as though this entire army of skeletons had appeared before them in that very moment.

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Alberto held the centre of the Esironian line along with a large body of halberdiers, his prayers and fighting prowess would be much needed to keep the men under his command from fleeing as soon as their terrifying foe crashed into their lines. He kept his staff of Matéa high for all to see. Fate was with them that day. At the very least, he prayed for it to be.

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“On my orders!” Eliza called to to the handgunners she had deployed in front of her knights as they prepared their guns. She was wary of this new technology, but had already seen their worth in other battles, even with the odd malfunction and uselessness when it rained. She looked up at the sky, praying silently for it to remain as dry as it was.

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Dragos’s vampiric knights held the left flank of the undead forces. Laughing and jeering at their prey, they waited patiently for their Lord’s signal to strike.

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The undead line marched upon Sarrím, Dragos commanding from the centre of his lines, ordering his horrific Bat Horrors to stay behind the line, saving their hides from the numerous ranged units the defending humans had mustered. The bloodlust was driving them mad, and Dragos knew it, yet still he ordered them to keep their position.

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Dragos commanded his units on, pushing through the treeline before him when suddenly …

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… A great crack echoed in the cold air. A cannonball bursting through Dragos’s personal Skeleton Guard, felling three before any of the vampire’s magic could save them. Glaring at his foe, Dragos growled, knowing that the cannon was too far away to pounce upon and have his vengeance upon the crew. Instead, he ordered his forces to push on further toward the town.

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The archers holding together the feeble defence of the far left flank of Eliza’s forces flexed their bows, readying themselves to loose a hail of arrows into the vast unit of skeletons marching toward them. what can arrows do to such a foe? One among them wondered to himself, before shaking his head as though that would rid him of this troublesome thought. They had to hold the line, that was the extent of their orders, and that was what had to be done.

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Moments later, the skeletons smashed into them, hacking at limbs and thrusting into flesh at a horrifying speed. Many of the archers crumpled beneath the pressure yet somehow the few that remained were able to steady their nerves and hold the barricade. The Skeleton King leading their foe seemed to be laughing at the disheartened men opposing him as he readied himself for another assault.

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Sergei, the necromancer leading Dragos’s left flank, attempted to cast spells to demoralise Alberto’s men, but Matéa’s love was too strong, turning each vile conjuration away from her followers. Alberto prayed constantly in thanks, promising her a vast cathedral if she could bring him through this battle unscathed.

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As Sergei brought his skeletons to the forest in order to rest and recuperate away from the Esironian guns, he was blindsided by Captain Samuel del Petrillo’s knights. Sergei could only watch in horror as each of his skeletons was cut down before him.

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He cowered as del Petrillo’s sword came down towards him, cutting through his arm as he threw it up to protect himself before carving deep into his head. Sergei fell to the ground, lifeless.

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In the centre, Eliza saw the opportunity to cut the head off the snake. Dragos, stunned by the sudden felling of his closest follower, was lingering indecisively only a few feet away from her knights. Ordering them to follow her, she charged into Dragos’s bodyguard, felling many of them before hearing the horrifying screams coming from behind her.

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Dragos was cutting down her last knight as she turned to face him, his mouth covered in the blood of her companions. He bit down on the neck of the knight in his hand, keeping eye contact with her as the blood sprayed into the air, tossing the limp corpse to the side once he had done feeding upon it. Screaming, Eliza charged once more at the vampire, swinging her sword down as hard as she could. A strong hand shot out and gripped her arm, twisting it violently before she was pulled off her horse.

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Seeing Eliza’s body being picked up by the vampire, Alberto refused to give up. He ordered his men to charge the Bat Horrors, two of which fell immediately for relatively small losses among his brave companions. Through his tears he swung his staff of Matéa violently before him, keeping the remaining Bat Horror at bay.

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Captain del Petrillo turned to his men, raising his sword in celebration. They had slain the necromancer Sergei, surely battle had now been won. A look of intense terror  came across his men’s faces as a great shadow loomed behind him. Del Petrillo turned just in time to receive a furious charge from Dragos’s Vampire Knights, who had been waiting patiently for their moment to strike. He felt a lance push past his armour, through his chest, and out of his back as pain rushed through him in a blinding wave. His vision swam as he was lifted from his horse, to be immediately thrown to the ground, great gouts of blood erupting from his hideous wound. He lay there dying as he heard his men's screams.

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Finally, with both of their commanders slain, the archers holding the barricade were cut down. The forces of undeath poured into Sarrím, slaying all they found hiding within the town. The battle was lost.

Alberto called to his men, for they were now all his men to command, to flee. He knew he must tell general Delmorté of the loss of the town, and of the death of Eliza, his newly appointed captain. But more than that, he knew he must tell all that he met of all he had witnessed, and the horror of Dragos von Sangué.

Offline KarwickWingmaker

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #7 on: January 14, 2022, 08:13:52 PM »
Nice intro, looking forward to the rest!

Like the fellows above, I enjoy your intro. Looks like your campaign is off to a great start  and I am eager to see what's next.

My thoughts echo those of Little Odo. Great start, keen to see more.

Thanks for your support guys! There will be plenty more to come :)

Offline Grumpy Gnome

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #8 on: January 15, 2022, 08:34:18 AM »
A tragic end but great battle report.

Offline Bloggard

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #9 on: January 15, 2022, 11:21:11 AM »
great stuff.

Offline Patrice

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #10 on: January 15, 2022, 12:12:18 PM »
 :o :o

Superb minatures, superb table, superb story... Thanks for sharing.

Online Spinal Tap

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #11 on: January 15, 2022, 12:28:31 PM »
Absolutely fabulous.

Offline KarwickWingmaker

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #12 on: January 15, 2022, 06:18:44 PM »
Thank you all for your kind responses!

Here is the map of the first campaign within the Kingdom of Esiron:

map" border="0

Offline KarwickWingmaker

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #13 on: January 16, 2022, 02:53:59 AM »
Part 2: The Retreat to Old Blindmire

Kingdom of Esiron - 1452

Alberto held back tears, as he had done ever since he fled from the fight for Sarrím. He had turned back once or twice as he made his way north, away from the town, though not since the the smoke from the burning buildings darkened the sky. It was too painful. He had also stopped giving orders, realising that the soldiers making their way on the road were essentially refugees, serving no military purpose whatsoever. Their eyes told the horrific stories of what they had seen happen to those they knew. They wouldn’t be stopping to bolster any force they came across unless they were forced to do so, and Alberto couldn’t blame them. He also couldn’t see himself forcing anyone to fight an enemy such as the one that they were fleeing from unless he was going to remain on the field, even if the battle was lost. That had been his intention at Sarrím, yet his body seemed to have taken over when his mind had failed him, turning his horse and forcing it to gallop out of the northern side of the town without a moment’s hesitation. He couldn’t rid himself of the image of Eliza’s body in the vampire’s hand. She looked so fragile in that moment, he could have sworn he saw her trembling as she looked up at the beast. Alberto carried the guilt heavily in his chest, turning with a smile every now and then only to remember that Eliza was no longer with him, knowing he would never share his sarcastic remarks with her ever again.

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Not a word was said between the ragged band travelling on the road, they just kept marching. Alberto knew that if they continued along the road, as long as they survived the journey, they would eventually get to Old Blindmire, a slightly smaller and less affluent town that Sarrím, but it would be somewhere safe to stay and rest, for now. When he saw the roofs of the buildings coming into view, it was the closest Alberto had come to smiling since the battle.

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Once Alberto reached the town, he saw a barricade had been built across the road. When the guard captain bluntly asked them to halt and state their business, with a hand firmly placed on the hilt of his sword, Alberto found that his usual confident voice had been replaced with a scratchy whisper, yet the man, suddenly realising that he was talking to a priest of Matéa, changed his manner entirely in an instant.
“Sorry father,” the man apologised, as though Alberto were capable of handing out a severe punishment for the minor indiscretion, “just with all the trouble we’ve been having with bandits, not to mention the Greenskins, or Beastmen. It’s been hell, honestly.” He made a gesture for his men to let Alberto’s refugees pass through the barricade, before turning back to the priest to hear his news.
“I’m afraid,” Alberto started, gratefully taking the soldier’s waterskin, before pouring the contents down his dry throat. He coughed, feeling as though his lungs were completely full of dust from the road, before repeating himself, “I’m afraid that we come with more problems for you, rather than solutions.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his filthy robe as the guards made way for his soldiers to enter the town. Watching them make their solemn way into the wide streets before them distressed him, remembering how they had cheered when they thought reinforcements would save them all. He could count on two hands how many had joined him on the road. How he feared for those that had lost their way, or stayed to defend the town. Poor Eliza, poor Samuel. May Matéa bless their souls, though what she could do for them now was beyond him. He would pray for them for the rest of his days, he knew that much.

The guard did not know how to act as he watched the priest’s emotional suffering playing out before him. Kindly, he placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, before leading him into the town. Do priests of Matéa drink alcohol? The guard wondered to himself, knowing that that was exactly what he would be turning to if he were in the other man’s position.

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Later that day, as the sun was beginning to set, Alberto made his way up a small hill to the south of Old Blindmire and opened his book of prayers, looking out across the land toward the remains of Sarrím in the distance that were visible only due to the smoke still rising from the town. He placed some flowers that he had picked throughout the day upon the ground, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Matéa,” his shaking voice struggled as his emotions overtook him, “wrap your loving arms around those who were lost at Sarrím. Those I was so lucky to know, and who’s memory I will always cherish.” He coughed, attempting unsuccessfully to recover his composure, “Spare a thought for those of our men that I never knew, who I will never know. Those too easily thought of as numbers in times of conflict, those who cheered in elation mere hours before their lives were cut short so brutally. Take Eliza into your heart, Matéa. She was the best companion I ever had. Not only that, but she was an incredible leader of men,” He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, a sad smile upon his face, “and women.”

Alberto held back tears, as he had done ever since he fled from the fight for Sarrím. He closed his book of prayers, and watched the sun set behind the trees.
« Last Edit: January 17, 2022, 04:25:04 AM by KarwickWingmaker »

Offline jetengine

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Re: An Age of Fantasy Campaign
« Reply #14 on: Today at 09:17:47 AM »
Great work !

What bits did you use for your Vamp leader ?


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