Mercenaries of the Border Princes

 

A Compendium of Free Companies and Mercenary Regiments

​Operating within the Desolate Marches of the Border Princes in Recent Years

​As compiled by H. Kleinknecht, Itinerant Chronicler and Scribe of Altdorf

For the Eyes of the High Authorities of the Empire and Worthy Captains of Fortune

​I. Von Kroger’s Sovereign Lancers

​Classification: Heavy Cavalry (Shock)

Origin: The Riding, The Empire of Man

Commander: Captain Kroger von Kleist

​Origin and History

​There is no greater tragedy in our Sigmar-blessed Empire than a noble house brought to ruin, yet from the ashes of such destitution was born one of the most formidable heavy lances currently selling their services in the Border Princes. The Sovereign Lancers are comprised entirely of dispossessed and pauper nobles. These are men of high birth who, through the vices of the gaming table, the curse of debt, or the cruel fortunes of war, lost their ancestral estates. Having naught left but their titles, their armor, and their breeding, they took up the mercenary’s trade to survive.

​The regiment owes its inception to Kroger von Kleist. Born to a noble lineage in the region known as the Riding, Kroger’s inheritance was squandered before he ever received it. His father, a man of ruinous extravagance, secured a loan from a notorious moneylender named Smee. Failing to scrutinize the predatory terms of the contract, the elder Von Kleist defaulted, subsequently dying of sheer shame. Stripped of his lands, young Kroger departed his homeland with nothing but his personal effects and his warhorse.

​Kroger found employment in the Trodheim War—a bitter, localized feud between the noble houses of Von Speke and Kleinburg. Fighting for the Von Spekes, Kroger quickly rallied a band of similar high-born sell-swords who had fallen into poverty. It was during this minor war that the regiment forged its distinct reputation. Though destitute, they remained aristocrats. Unlike the base, low-born mercenaries common to such conflicts, Von Kroger’s men treated captives with utmost chivalry, protected non-combatants, and steadfastly refused to pillage noble estates. Most remarkably, they adhered to a strict code of honor, flatly denying the repeated, extravagant bribes offered by the Kleinburgs to switch allegiances.

​While the Trodheim feud established their honor, it was the expedition of Dwarf King Storri Goldenbeard into the blighted Dark Lands that secured their fortune. Desperate to purge the teeming Goblin hordes but fiercely protective of Dwarf lives, King Storri loosened his notoriously tight purse strings to hire human auxiliaries: Halfling scouts, Ogre shock troops, and Von Kroger’s heavy horse. Following a bloody but triumphant campaign, the regiment returned laden with Dwarf gold.

​With this wealth, they purchased The Golden Sovereign, a massive, well-appointed inn and livery in the city of Nuln. This serves as their grand headquarters—a sanctuary stocked with every luxury a young noble requires, from attentive butlers and stable hands to fine wines and a grand refectory.

​Battlefield Doctrine and Equipment

​The Sovereign Lancers fight in the traditional manner of the Empire's grand chivalry. They take the field as ironclad heavy cavalry, mounted upon barded warhorses. They are equipped with fine full-plate armor, heavy lances, and well-tempered broadswords. Because the maintenance of such heavy shock cavalry is astronomically high, their fees are steep; nonetheless, they have no shortage of desperate employers willing to pay for the devastating power of their charge.

​II. The Freemen of Rouen

​Classification: Light Infantry (Skirmishers & Raiders)

Origin: The Dukedom of Rouen, Kingdom of Bretonnia

Commander: Pierre, called Homme Libre

​Origin and History

​In stark contrast to the high-born Lancers of Von Kroger, the Freemen of Rouen represent the very bottom of the feudal order: a Bretonnian regiment born from fire, famine, and peasant rebellion.

​In the fertile but ruthlessly taxed fiefdom of Rouen, the local Baron was infamous for his tyranny. When the Great Famine struck the land, the Baron answered the cries of his starving populace not with grain, but with the lash. Pushed past the brink of endurance, the peasantry rose in a bloody, desperate insurrection, rallied by a charismatic young field laborer known only as Pierre.

​The Baron’s retribution was swift. At the head of his glittering, armored knights and brutal men-at-arms, he rode out to put the rebellious villages to the torch. However, Pierre possessed an innate, cunning tactical mind. He feigned a panicked retreat, luring the arrogant, top-heavy Bretonnian cavalry deep into the treacherous, sucking mires of the Rouen wetlands.

​In the deep mud, the knights’ heavy armor became their sarcophagus. Light on their feet and consumed by righteous fury, the peasants swarmed the floundering nobles. It was Pierre himself who dragged the screaming Baron from his bogged destrier, executing the tyrant in the morass with the noble's own ceremonial blade.

​Knowing that the King of Couronne and his Dukes would never tolerate a successful peasant revolt, the rebels abandoned their homeland. Fleeing across the mountains, they took up the mantle of wandering mercenaries, naming themselves the Freemen of Rouen.

​The Captain: Pierre Homme Libre

​Pierre remains a profound anomaly among mercenary captains—a man genuinely guided by an unyielding sense of honor and an empathy for the destitute. He has never forgotten the hunger of his youth. Though he rules his regiment with iron discipline, he fiercely refuses to sell his blades to tyrants or merchant princes, frequently turning down lucrative contracts if the work involves oppressing the weak. Conversely, his regiment has been known to march to the aid of besieged underdogs for nothing more than a hot meal and a warm barn to sleep in. Their battle cry is a roaring defiance: "For the Oppressed!"

​Battlefield Doctrine and Equipment

​The Freemen operate as exceptionally proficient light infantry. Having spent their youths tilling land and navigating the dense wetlands of Rouen, they are masters of difficult terrain. They specialize in ambushes, rapid skirmishing, forest warfare, and aggressive raiding. They are also notoriously thorough looters, stripping a battlefield clean in minutes.

• ​Equipment: A mismatched assortment of salvaged battlefield armor, dented shields, and a motley array of swords, maces, war hammers, spears, and woodcutter's axes. Pierre himself goes to war wielding the Baron’s personalized, gold-inlaid bastard sword.
• ​The Regimental Standard: A crude, defiant banner fashioned from a coarse sheet of homespun burlap. Painted upon it in dark crimson is the stark emblem of a crossed scythe and pitchfork. To the Freemen, it is a holy reminder of their defiance; to the tyrannical lords of the Old World, it is a chilling portent of a peasantry that refused to kneel.

​III. The Black-Hawk Brigade

​Classification: Missile Infantry (Crossbowmen)

Origin: Middenheim / The Drakenwald Forest

Commander: Albrecht, "The Black Hawk"

​Origin and History

​The origins of this deadly marksman corps are steeped in tragedy, irony, and the horrors of the Darkwald. Their captain, Albrecht, was once a celebrated sharpshooter from the City of the White Wolf, Middenheim. He earned a handsome living performing extravagant trick shots for the amusement of the nobility, who paid handsomely for such novelty.

​This comfortable life came to a catastrophic end during a private gala. Having imbibed heavily the night before, a complacent Albrecht attempted what should have been a routine display: shooting an apple off the head of a prominent noble’s daughter. His hand faltered; the bolt strayed, skewering the young maiden through the eye.

​Albrecht was instantly cast into the castle's deepest dungeon, where the grieving, vengeful noble devised prolonged tortures for the marksman. However, salvation arrived in a hideous guise. The castle, situated on the perilous fringes of the Drakenwald, became the target of a massive, coordinated assault by a Warherd of Beastmen.

​As the chaotic horde breached the outer walls, desperation gripped the defenders. The noble ordered every cell opened and every hand armed. Now sobered by confinement and the imminent threat of death, Albrecht took up a crossbow. Over weeks of a grueling siege, his lethal accuracy proved invaluable. As the noble officers panicked, the common garrison and servants increasingly looked to Albrecht for leadership.

​Inevitably, the castle fell during a horrific night of fire and blood. Amidst the slaughter, Albrecht rallied a small, disciplined band of surviving soldiers and servants, guiding them through a harrowing retreat through the Beastmen-infested woods to safety. Jobless, exiled, and destitute, Albrecht trained these survivors in the strict discipline of the arbalest, forming the Black-Hawk Brigade. Now operating out of Nuln, their lethal efficiency has earned them a reputation as premier defensive and siege specialists.

​Battlefield Doctrine and Equipment

​The Brigade functions as expert missile infantry. They do not possess a formal uniform; every brother and sister of the cloth is permitted to dress as they see fit, resulting in a rugged, veteran appearance. However, the regiment enforces two absolute requirements: every member must carry a well-maintained sword and a high-tension crossbow.

​In battle, they are known for their sudden, devastating volleys. Their tactical doctrine relies on disciplined, concentrated fire that can break a cavalry charge or clear a rampart in seconds.

• ​Battle Cry: The captain or sergeants will bellow "The Black Hawk!", which is invariably followed seconds later by the deadly, synchronized thrum of a hundred crossbow strings.
• ​The Regimental Standard: A vibrant yellow banner depicting a fierce black hawk in flight, its talons clutching a massive, armor-piercing crossbow bolt.

The Battle of Blackwater Scenario

 

​Background

​Following the Battle of Braghafen, the newly elected Mayor of Braghafen, Kurt Grunchild, is desperate to avenge his father’s death at the hands of the Orcs. Young and impetuous, Kurt wanted to give immediate chase with the Braghafen militia until the wiser heads of Captain Gunther (the militia Captain) and Adhumla Brightsoul (a wandering wizard) convinced him that a blind pursuit would be a disaster.

​Not to be deterred, Kurt used Braghafen’s immense wealth to hire an army of mercenaries to punish the greenskins. The army is now several days out from Braghafen, and local scouts have identified the location of the Orc camp—though it is still several days of hard marching ahead. Burning for revenge, Kurt is pushing his army to march at a blistering, exhausting pace.

​Meanwhile, the leader of the Orcs, Timinus Blacksoul—an evil wizard and Adhumla's twin brother—is incensed by his recent defeat at Braghafen. He has decided to strengthen his forces by employing a nomadic Goblin tribe known as the Bloody Fang, who boast large numbers of chariots and wolf riders. Timinus directs the Goblin chief, Sourgut, to attack Braghafen’s mercenary army, destroy it, and bring back his twin brother's head.

​Not trusting the wily Goblin, Timinus ordered his own Orc captain, Borgun, to accompany them with the Orc cavalry and scouts. The two greenskin leaders hate each other, and the troops under their command have used every available excuse to brawl. Despite their differences, they have managed to concoct a workable plan: knowing the army of Braghafen must cross the River Blackwater, the two leaders have split their forces. The Orcs will act as bait, and when the army of Braghafen is halfway across the river, the Goblins will spring an ambush from the rear.

​As the army of Braghafen reaches the Blackwater, scouts report an Orc patrol across the river. Kurt rashly mounts his horse and directs the army's heavy cavalry regiment and bow-armed scouts to follow him. He plunges through the river ford and onto the opposite bank, desperate to spill Orcish blood. Captain Gunther quickly tries to organize the army's infantry to support the rash young mayor when shouts of alarm from the rear column alert him to the sudden arrival of Goblin cavalry and chariots. Looking across the river, he can see the silhouettes of more Orcs appearing on the horizon. He quickly realizes they have fallen into a cunning trap.

​Terrain

​The River Blackwater: The fast-flowing, slippery, mud-banked river counts as very difficult terrain (1/4 movement), except at the shallow ford where it counts as good going (normal movement).

​The Ruined Monastery: Counts as difficult terrain for movement. Any troops positioned inside the ruins count as being in hard cover.

​The Old Stone Circle Mound: Counts as difficult terrain and provides a higher elevation advantage relative to the surrounding flat ground.

​The Rocky Bluffs: The bluffs along the riverbanks are completely impassable.

​Set Up and Starting the Game

​The Army of Braghafen: Starts the game split into two forces. Mayor Grunchild, Von Kroger's Sovereign Lancers, and the Braghafen scouts start on the west side of the river in Deployment Zone A. The rest of the Braghafen army, along with Captain Gunther and Adhumla Brightsoul, deploy in Deployment Zone B on the east side of the river.

​The Bloody Fang Goblins: May deploy anywhere along the eastern table edge.

​The Orcs: May deploy anywhere west of the river, but must be placed at least 12” away from Deployment Zone A.

​First Turn: The Orcs and Goblins take the first turn as the attackers.

​Special Rules

​1. Hatred

​Kurt Grunchild and the Braghafen militia regiment are subject to the rules for Hatred against all Orcs for the duration of this battle.

​2. The Awakening of Kurgan

​The old stone circle mound is, in fact, the barrow of an ancient warlord known as Kurgan. Kurgan does not sleep easily in his tomb, compelled to protect his grave goods even after death.

​If any unit comes within 6” of the mound, it may trigger Kurgan to awaken. Roll a D6 at the beginning of each player's turn if a unit or character is within 6”. On a roll of a 6, Kurgan the Wight will emerge from his tomb and immediately attack that unit.

​If there are multiple eligible targets within 6”, randomize which unit Kurgan attacks.

​Kurgan does not suffer from instability, as his magical connection to the tomb keeps him firmly tethered to the land of the living.

​Kurgan cannot move further than 6” away from his tomb, and he will not follow up or pursue a routed enemy beyond this 6” radius.

​If there are no longer any units within 6”, Kurgan will return to his tomb, but he can be triggered to emerge again later in the game if new units move into range.

​3. Greenskin Animosity

​The Orcs and Goblins particularly dislike each other. During this battle, if a failed Animosity test results in a unit having to attack another unit, the target must always be a unit of the opposite race rather than the closest unit.

​Example: If an Orc unit fails its test, and there is a friendly Orc unit 4” away and a friendly Goblin unit 6” away, they will ignore the closer Orc unit and charge the Goblins instead.

​4. The Supply Wagon

​The Braghafen army has a supply wagon that is treated mechanically as a chariot drawn by a single horse. It counts as having one crewman with basic human profiles and a hand weapon. The supply wagon represents valuable victory points for both sides:

​Any Orc or Goblin unit that kills the wagon's driver in close combat immediately loots the wagon.

​If the driver is killed by missile fire or magic, any enemy unit that remains in base-to-base contact with the wagon for one full combat round successfully loots it.

​If the driver is killed but the wagon has not yet been looted, it can be re-crewed by any human model from a unit that moves into base-to-base contact with it, or by any human hero.

​Victory Points

​Braghafen

​1 VP: For each Orc or Goblin model slain.

​2 VP: For each Orc or Goblin chariot destroyed.

​3 VP: If Orc Captain Borgun is killed.

​5 VP: If Orc Captain Borgun is killed specifically by Kurt Grunchild.

​3 VP: If Goblin Chief Sourgut is killed.

​3 VP: If Goblin Shaman Butscuttle is killed.

​5 VP: If the supply wagon remains unlooted by the end of the game.

​3 VP: If Kurgan the Wight is destroyed by a human model.

​1 VP: For each enemy standard captured.

​Orcs and Goblins

​1 VP: For each Human model slain.

​1 VP: For each human standard captured.

​3 VP: If Captain Gunther is killed.

​3 VP: If Mayor Kurt Grunchild is killed.

​5 VP: If the supply wagon is successfully looted.

​10 VP: If Adhumla Brightsoul is killed (a massive prize for his twin brother!).

​3 VP: If Kurgan the Wight is destroyed by an Orc or Goblin model.

A Topographical and Historical Survey of Blackwater Ford

As compiled by H. Kleinknecht, Itinerant Chronicler and Scribe of Altdorf

 Geographical Significance and Logistics

As detailed in the cartographic rendering, Blackwater Ford represents a vital strategic juncture within the region known as the Border Princes. The locale is defined by an essential east-west trade road that cuts across a rare expanse of flat ground, winding precariously through the otherwise treacherous High Hills.

This thoroughfare serves as the primary economic artery linking eastern and western settlements:

The East: The road originates in the Black Wolf Barony, establishing a direct supply line from its seat of power at Castle Crag and the bustling major town of Crags Bottom.

The West: The road traverses the ford before terminating at the sheep-herding village of Braghafen, from whence the path turns sharply northward, plunging deep into the heart of the Empire.

The ford itself provides a crucial, relatively shallow wading point across the river, making it a favored target for merchants, passing Human armies, and, regrettably, the less savory elements of the wilderness such as Goblins.

The Legend of the River Blackwater

Local folklore provides a macabre etymology for the river's naming. According to regional historians and tavern balladeers alike, these waters were not always so dark. Legend dictates that centuries past, a massive host of Orcs led by the infamous warlord Borg Skinflayer attempted to overrun the early human settlements of the area.

They were met at this very crossing by a desperate defense led by the heroic human settler, Prince Olland—known posthumously to all faithful  local citizens of the area as "Orc Smasher." The resulting clash was so fiercely contested and thoroughly bloody that the sheer volume of black Orc blood spilled into the current permanently stained the waters, giving the river its modern moniker.

The Barrow Mound and the Ancient Stones

To the northeast of the crossing, visible upon the flat plain in, sits a prominent, artificial earthen mound topped by an ancient stone circle.

The origins of these monoliths remain entirely obscured by the mists of time; neither Imperial scholars nor local elders can attribute their construction to any known human or Elven civilization. While ostensibly dormant by day, the site is a source of profound unease for travelers. Iterative reports from nocturnal wayfarers describe:

Unexplained, shifting lights emanating from the center of the mound.

Low, rhythmic auditory phenomena resembling human chanting echoing across the hills when the moons are full.

Prudent merchants are strictly advised to conclude their crossings before nightfall to avoid the vicinity of the mound.

The Folly of Deacon Otto: The Monastery of Holy Law

Situated to the southwest of the ford, connected to the main thoroughfare by a well-worn dirt track, lie the crumbling remnants of a stone structure. This is all that remains of the Monastery of Holy Law.

The site was established by a zealous priest of a minor deity of law, Deacon Otto—frequently referred to in contemporary Altdorf treatises as "Otto the Mad." Driven by a misguided, albeit stubborn, devotion to order, Deacon Otto established his monastic order in this volatile borderland with the explicit, doomed objective of converting the local Goblin tribes of the High Hills to the virtues of legalism and piety.

The ruined, roofless shell of the monastery stands as a stark, tragic testament to his utter folly; the Goblins, predictably, preferred slaughter to salvation. However, the site remains a point of interest for treasure-hunters and sellswords, as persistent rumors endure regarding vast, hidden wealth buried deep within the sealed crypts beneath the ruins.

Chronicle Note: Travelers utilizing this route are urged to carry adequate arms, maintain a swift pace, and under no circumstances attempt to parley with the local greenskins, regardless of any historical "theological progress" claimed by the late Deacon Otto.

The Battle of Blackwater: Prelude

 In Braghafen 

Rain drummed against the warped shutters of the Golden Goblin inn, and the smell of wet wool and spilled ale filled the common room. Once, the mayor of Braghafen had ruled from a tall stone tower overlooking the village square. Now that tower was a blackened ruin, burned down during the recent orc assault.

At a corner table beneath a crooked lantern sat the new mayor, Kurt Grunchild. He looked too young for the office, and at twenty years old, he was. His father had died defending Braghafen, cut down by a giant armoured orc with one eye. A few days later the villagers, grieving and desperate for leadership, had elected Kurt mayor. No one had wished to oppose the son of a fallen hero.

Kurt’s fist rested on the table, his knuckles white.

“Enough about sheep,” he snapped.

Across from him, Hans Kline adjusted his spectacles and sighed the sigh of a man who had spent decades trying to keep mayors practical.

“My lord mayor, with respect, the sheep are important. Two hundred head are still unaccounted for, the east granary roof is collapsing, and there are dead orcs clogging the river bend. If we do not remove them, the water will foul.”

“Then hire labourers,” Kurt said dismissively. “I did not summon this meeting to discuss carcasses in a stream.”

His eyes turned instead to Captain Gunther, the broad-shouldered leader of the Braghafen militia. Gunther’s grey-streaked hair and scarred face spoke of his long years as a mercenary before he had settled in the village.

“Captain, how soon can we march?”

Gunther folded his arms. “March where?”

“To find the orcs and destroy them.”

The captain’s expression did not change. “The militia is in no fit state for such a campaign. We lost men on the walls, many others are wounded, and half our armour is patched with cooking pots and scrap iron. The lads signed up to defend Braghafen, not to wander the Border Princes hunting greenskins in the wilds.”

Beside Gunther sat Adhumla Brightsoul, a travelling wizard wrapped in a blue cloak damp from the rain. He had arrived in Braghafen only the night before the orc attack, and though he had helped defend the village with his magic and crackling spells, there was something guarded in his pale eyes.

Kurt turned to him. “Surely you understand. Those monsters killed my father.”

Adhumla inclined his head slowly. “I understand vengeance better than most, Mayor Grunchild. But Captain Gunther is right. A village militia alone cannot hope to defeat a roaming orc horde.” He paused, then added with a dry smile, “A pity Braghafen is not wealthy enough to hire mercenaries.”

The room fell silent. Kurt straightened. “Mercenaries?”

Hans looked up sharply. “My lord, surely—”

Kurt cut him off. “What is the state of our finances, Hans?”

The treasurer hesitated, clearly wishing he had remained silent. “Your father was... prudent. Taxes were collected, and this year’s wool trade was exceptionally profitable. The coffers are healthy.”

“How healthy?”

Hans named a figure. Even Gunther’s eyebrows rose.

“That money is for rebuilding,” Hans insisted quickly. “The walls need repair, the tower—”

“And none of it matters,” Kurt said, “if the orcs return and finish what they started.”

Gunther rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Mercenaries from Nuln would not come cheap. But disciplined spearmen and heavy cavalry could do what our militia cannot.”

Hans groaned softly into his hands.

Adhumla’s gaze drifted toward the rain-streaked window. Somewhere beyond the dark hills, his twin brother Timinus Blacksoul was directing the orcs like pieces on a game board. Adhumla had spent years searching for him, ever since Timinus had murdered their father and embraced the dark magic of the Daemonicum. He wanted the orcs destroyed as fiercely as Kurt did.

“Very well,” the wizard said quietly. “If this is the path you choose, then choose it wisely.”

Kurt leaned forward, fire returning to his eyes for the first time since the battle. “Captain, send word to your contacts in Nuln. Hire whoever we can afford. Braghafen will not hide behind its walls while the killers of my father roam free.”

Gunther nodded once. “I’ll send the message at dawn.”

Hans muttered something about “ruinous expenditures” and began making notes anyway.

A month later, the fields outside Braghafen were alive with movement. Rows of mercenary spearmen drilled in tight formation, their polished pikes glittering beneath the morning sun. Beyond them waited heavily armoured cavalry, warhorses stamping impatiently in the grass.

Kurt Grunchild stood on a small rise overlooking the camp. The wind tugged at his cloak, carrying the smell of steel, horse sweat, and campfire smoke. Behind him, Braghafen still bore the scars of war: patched roofs, scorched timber, and hastily rebuilt barricades. But before him stood an army.

Captain Gunther rode among the mercenaries barking orders with practiced authority. Hans Kline hovered nearby with ledgers and a permanently pained expression every time another wagon of supplies arrived. Adhumla Brightsoul stood apart from the bustle, his walking stick planted in the earth, eyes fixed on the distant hills as though he could sense dark magic stirring there.

Kurt barely noticed any of them.

In his mind he saw only the towering orc who had killed his father in the battle of Braghafen—armour slick with blood, his one good eye leering, tusked mouth roaring in triumph.

Soon, Kurt promised himself. Soon I will find you.

He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword as the mercenary banners snapped in the wind and the army prepared to march into the wild and lawless Border Princes.

Meanwhile in the Orc camp 

Deep in the lands known to men as the Border Princes, the low hills rose from the scrubland like broken teeth. At their centre stood a larger hill riddled with caves, its slopes dotted with crude huts and tents. Orc banners snapped in the dry wind, daubed with crude symbols.

General Slabgut stood outside the largest cave entrance, his thick arms folded across his chest. The one-eyed Orc scowled beneath his battered iron helm. The eyepatch covering his ruined eye seemed to itch whenever he was angry—which was often these days.

Especially after Braghafen.

He had nearly won. The village palisade had been breached; his Orcs had entered the village and hummies had died screaming. Slabgut himself had killed the hummie general in single combat before the villagers dragged the corpse away. Yet somehow, the battle had turned.

The blue-robed wizard.

That cursed human wizard had confronted Slabgut and challenged him, pitting his spells against Slabgut’s sword. The villagers had rallied. The attack had collapsed.

Then came the punishment.

Slabgut's good eye twitched as he remembered Timinus Blacksoul raising a hand and sending agony through every nerve in his body. The pain had been so terrible that the mighty Orc general had fallen to his knees, vomiting onto the cave floor while the wizard watched calmly.

The memory filled him with rage.

One day, Slabgut promised himself, he would rip the human's head from his shoulders.

A horn blast interrupted his thoughts.

Dust rose on the horizon.

"They's 'ere," grunted a nearby guard.

Slabgut watched as a column of Goblin riders emerged from the haze.

At their head rolled a chariot pulled by an enormous black boar. The beast's tusks were longer than a man's arm, and its small eyes burned with perpetual fury.

Upon the chariot stood Chief Sourgut of the Bloody Fang tribe.

The Goblin was hideous even by Goblin standards. His bow legs made him sway oddly, while his rusty chainmail rattled with every movement. A horned helmet sat crooked upon his oversized head, and a morning star hung at his side.

The chariot screeched to a halt.

Sourgut looked down at Slabgut with a sneer.

"Oi, One-Eye! I heard yer lost a battle to a bunch o' farmers."

Several Goblins snickered.

Slabgut's knuckles cracked.

"I heard yer tribe got chased off by the pointy-ears last winter."

The Goblins stopped laughing.

Sourgut's grin faded.

"They wouldn't come out of the zoggin' trees and fight fair," Sourgut grumbled.

"Stupid Goblins. Even an Orc pup knows you burn the pointy-ears' trees," retorted Slabgut.

The two glared at one another.

Finally, Sourgut spat into the dust.

"Take me ter see da wizard."

Slabgut grunted.

"Follow me."

The cave complex stretched deep into the hill.

Torchlight flickered against damp stone walls. Orc guards stood watch at every junction.

Eventually, they reached a vast chamber.

At its centre stood a crude throne assembled from looted furniture, skulls, and black iron.

Upon it sat Timinus Blacksoul.

The human wizard appeared middle-aged, though his eyes seemed far older. Crimson robes flowed around him. A neatly trimmed goatee framed his face, and a headdress of ram's horns crowned his head.

Resting upon a stone pedestal beside the throne was a black metal chest covered in impossible runes.

The Daemonicum.

Few present knew its true nature.

Fewer still would have dared approach it.

Timinus smiled thinly as Sourgut approached.

"Chief Sourgut."

"Wizard."

The Goblin gave a shallow bow.

"I hears yer need fighters."

"I require capable cavalry."

Sourgut puffed out his chest.

"Da Bloody Fangs is da finest riders in da Border Princes."

Several Goblins nodded enthusiastically.

Timinus folded his hands.

"Then perhaps we can help one another."

For nearly an hour, the negotiations continued.

Sourgut demanded gold.

Timinus offered gold.

Sourgut demanded weapons.

Timinus offered weapons.

Sourgut demanded extra gold.

Timinus agreed with surprising ease.

Eventually, the Goblin chief grinned.

"We got a deal."

"Excellent."

Timinus rose from his throne.

"There is an army of men moving through the southern valleys."

Sourgut scratched his chin.

"Lots o' men?"

"Enough."

The wizard's eyes narrowed.

"They are led by a wizard dressed in blue."

At the mention of blue, a flicker of hatred crossed Timinus's face.

Neither Goblin nor Orc noticed.

"I want that army destroyed."

Sourgut grinned.

"Dat sounds easy."

"I also want the head of the blue wizard brought to me."

"Just da head?"

"The head will suffice."

Sourgut laughed.

"Done."

Timinus smiled.

The expression never reached his eyes.

Later, after the Goblin chief had departed to prepare his warriors, Slabgut remained in the audience chamber.

The Orc watched the wizard silently for a moment.

Then he finally spoke.

"Why do we need gobbos?"

Timinus glanced up from an ancient scroll.

"Our army lacks sufficient cavalry."

Slabgut frowned.

"We got da Snortas."

"Yes."

"We got da Crushers."

"Yes."

"Dat's cavalry."

Timinus sighed.

"Not enough cavalry."

The Orc scratched his head.

That answer clearly dissatisfied him.

After a moment, he tried again.

"Do yer trust dat gobbo?"

For the first time, the wizard laughed.

It was a cold sound.

"Trust him?"

The wizard shook his head.

"I trust no one."

His gaze settled upon Slabgut.

The meaning was unmistakable.

The Orc shifted uncomfortably.

Then Timinus continued.

"Which is why Chief Sourgut will not be travelling alone."

A voice emerged from the shadows.

"Dat's right."

Captain Borgun stepped into the torchlight.

Slabgut gave an involuntary growl and bared his tusks. Borgun grinned back. Slabgut noted, with disgust, that Borgun still had all his teeth. That meant he was still young and that he was likely a good fighter. Few Orcs made it to adulthood without losing some teeth in a brawl.

The young Orc captain wore armour scavenged from a dead hummie knight and carried himself with unusual confidence.

A dangerous confidence.

"The Snortas ride with da goblins," Borgun said.

"And da Crushers," Borgun added, to show he was now in charge of two regiments even though he was only a captain.

Slabgut's good eye narrowed.

Borgun's grin widened further.

The young captain had ambition, and that made Slabgut nervous. Need to watch this one, Slabgut thought to himself.

Timinus clasped his hands behind his back.

"Captain Borgun will accompany the Bloody Fang tribe."

"To help 'em?" asked Slabgut.

The wizard smiled.

"To watch them."

Borgun chuckled.

"And if da goblin gets any funny ideas..."

He tapped the axe hanging at his belt.

He turned and looked at Timinus. "Don't worry, boss. I'll make sure that blue hummie's head is yours."

The chamber fell silent.

Beyond the cave walls, drums began to beat as Orcs and Goblins prepared for war.

Far to the south, a blue-robed wizard marched with an army of men.

And somewhere deep within his heart, Timinus Blacksoul already imagined the moment his twin brother's severed head would be laid at his feet.

Epilogue: The Ashes of Braghafen

 

Deep within his cavernous stronghold, where the air reeked of sulphur and stagnant blood, Timinus Blacksoul stared into a bronze basin. The dark red liquid swirling within rippled with chaotic images of the battlefield’s end. Through the magical scrying bowl, he watched the tattered remnants of his Orc horde retreat, leaving behind many dead.

His grip tightened on the bowl, his ram-skull headdress casting long, demonic shadows against the rocky walls. His plan had been flawless. The village should have burned, and the old sage should have been his. Among the dust and smoke of battle, a familiar and hated figure appeared in the reflection—his twin brother, Adhumla, a beacon of light driving back the shadows.

“Curse you!” Timinus roared, his voice echoing like thunder through the cavern.

With a backhanded swipe of his arm, he flipped the heavy bronze bowl. Unholy blood splashed across the stone floor, extinguishing the visions. Rage twisted his features into a mask of pure malice.

“Interfering fool,” Timinus hissed into the darkness, his red robes billowing as he paced. “You have crossed me for the last time, brother. I swear by the Dark Gods, I will finish you once and for all.”

Adhumla Brightsoul walked the muddy streets, his mind heavy with the cost of victory. In the days that followed, the skies over Braghafen remained a dull, ash-choked grey. His thoughts inevitably drifted back to the bloody battlefield, where the fighting had been fierce and he himself had barely survived an encounter with a massive Orc warrior.

Outside the village, amidst a pile of bloody Orc corpses, he had found Victoria Seacrete. The human ranger had single-handedly slaughtered the crew of the Orcs’ stone-throwing war machine before being overwhelmed herself. He found her lying in the mud, close to death. Adhumla had knelt beside her, channelling the desperate, exhausting energy of magic to knit torn flesh and seal the deep gash in her leg. She would live, but the wound was severe and poisoned by Orc filth; it would take a long time to heal.

Looking upon her pale but determined face as she rested in the makeshift infirmary, Adhumla felt a profound stir of admiration. She was a woman of fierce, unbroken bravery.

Yet survival was only half the story.

Adhumla’s investigation into why his brother had struck this particular village yielded a terrifying truth. Timinus’s Orcs had not been raiding for mere plunder; they had been hunting for a single resident: Silas the Sage. To Adhumla’s shock, Silas turned out to be an old adventuring companion of the twins' father. The old man possessed dangerous, forbidden knowledge regarding the Daemonicum—a powerful Chaos artefact of apocalyptic capability.

Even more worrying, Silas was not the only surviving member of that old adventuring company. Adhumla knew with absolute certainty that Silas and the others could never be allowed to fall into his brother’s hands. He would guard the Sage with his life if necessary.

Around him, Braghafen was slowly trying to pull itself from the dirt. Captain Gunther, drawing upon every ounce of his old mercenary grit, worked tirelessly to reorganise the shattered militia. Beside him stood Jorgun Hammerson, leader of the Stonehammer Clan. Though the Dwarfs had only been present for the battle through sheer bad luck, having arrived in Braghafen to trade, they had nonetheless lent their legendary strength to the village’s recovery. Their chainmail clinked as they helped Gunther rebuild the shattered wooden palisades.

The physical damage was severe. The Mayor’s Tower stood as a hollow, burnt-out ruin dominating the skyline, though miraculously most of the village buildings, while battered and scarred, remained standing. The emotional wounds ran far deeper.

The villagers gathered in sombre silence to bury their dead; none was mourned more heavily than Mayor Grunchild. In the wake of the tragedy, an emergency election was held. Because of the late mayor’s immense popularity and ultimate self-sacrifice in defence of the village, no one dared stand against his son.

Kurt Grunchild, barely twenty years old, was elected the new Mayor of Braghafen.

Watching the young man stand beside his father’s grave, Adhumla felt a pang of concern. Kurt possessed no leadership experience whatsoever. Worse still, he was consumed by a desperate and blinding desire for revenge against those responsible for his father’s death. He was not the leader Braghafen needed in this dark hour, and he would require guidance if he were to steer the village back from the precipice.

After a few days, the Dwarfs departed. Jorgun Hammerson and the Stonehammer Clan could no longer tarry. With an Orc army loose in the region, Jorgun was desperate to return to his mountain stronghold, bury his fallen kin in the halls of their ancestors, and prepare his people for the storm he knew was coming.

Before departing, he forged an alliance of friendship with Braghafen’s new mayor and promised to send Dwarfen stonemasons the following spring to help rebuild the Mayor’s Tower.

Adhumla watched them leave, his cloak billowing in the cold wind. Braghafen’s future hung by a fragile thread. Its defences were weak, its leadership untested, and dark forces were already moving against it.

He knew in his heart that this bloody battle was not the end. It was merely the opening gambit of a far greater nightmare.

Back in the depths of the dark stronghold, the heavy, thudding footsteps of General Slabgut echoed nervously through the cavern. The massive Orc, armoured in crude iron plates, walked with his single eye darting anxiously through the shadows. His prominent tusks scraped against his lower lip.

He had killed the village mayor in single combat—a feat that should have earned him glory. Yet he had failed to capture the Sage. He knew the volatile nature of the wizard who had elevated him to chief after murdering his predecessor. Slabgut was terrified.

“You failed me, Slabgut,” Timinus’s voice cut through the gloom like a sharpened blade.

“Master… I killed da boss man! I broke dere gate!” Slabgut grunted, trying to sound fierce, though his voice betrayed his fear.

Timinus did not bother arguing. He simply raised a hand, his fingers twisting into a cruel, jagged gesture. A crackle of sickly purple energy shot from his fingertips and slammed into the massive Orc.

Slabgut collapsed instantly.

The sheer, unadulterated agony of dark magic tore through his nervous system. The hulking brute shrieked—a high-pitched and pathetic sound that filled the cavern as his muscles seized and his vision swam in white-hot pain. Timinus watched with a slow, sadistic grin spreading across his face. He relished the feeling of absolute dominance, the joy of reducing a creature far stronger than himself to a whimpering heap with nothing more than a thought.

The magic subsided, and the pain receded to a dull throb.

Panting heavily, fury briefly overcame fear. Slabgut pushed himself upright and, with a guttural roar, swung a massive arm at the wizard.

Timinus’s grin widened. “Insolent worm.”

With a flick of his wrist, a second wave of pain magic struck Slabgut—twice as intense as the first.

The Orc dropped like a stone, crashing onto all fours. He convulsed violently, vomiting onto the cave floor, completely overwhelmed by agony and unable to lift his head.

Timinus stepped forward, the hem of his red robes brushing against the Orc’s trembling shoulder. Leaning close, he spoke in a cold whisper beside Slabgut’s ear.

“I am letting you off lightly, you pathetic pile of filth. The only reason your head is not currently decorating a spike outside is because you are still useful to me.”

The wizard stepped back and straightened his ram-skull headdress, his eyes gleaming with dark anticipation. He allowed the spell to fade as the massive Orc lay curled in a foetal position, still shaking as he slowly regained control of his body.

“Get up, Slabgut. Clean yourself up. We have much to prepare for.”

Timinus turned away, gazing into the darkness beyond the torchlight.

“We are expecting visitors soon…” he said quietly, “and we must ensure we give them a proper welcome.”

Welcome

 Welcome to Tales of the Border Princes. A blog designed to chronicle Oldhammer  (Warhammer fantasy battle 2nd edition) campaigns.

The first  Campaign is called the Two Brothers and deals with twin brothers, Wizards, one a beacon of light the other a dark shadow. Fighting for the fate of the known world and possession of the Chaos artefact the Daemonicum.

Each campaign is split into chapters starting with a prelude. The prelude gives stories that explain the background of the campaign. Each chapter covers one battle in the campaign each chapter may include several posts ending in an epilogue.

On top of that as the campaign builds we will have some world building through the treaties by the renowned Empire Scholar H Kleinknecht as he gives accounts of  interesting denizens and locations of the Border Princes that appear in our campaign.

The Battle of Braghafen: An After-Action Report

Setup

General Slabgut’s Orcs set up mostly along the southern side of the village. General Slabgut and his Bodyguards formed up in the center, with the Orc regiments on either side of him. The stone thrower and the Orc archer regiment formed the right flank of the Orc line, ready to provide fire support for the attack. General Slabgut sent one Orc regiment on an outflanking attack, hoping they would appear along the northern side of the River Brag later in the game.

The defenders, under Mayor Grunchild, set up their bow-armed scouts on the palisade facing the Orc right flank, while the crossbow-armed Clan Stonehammer Dwarfs, along with their leader Jorgun Hammerson, set up facing the Orc left flank. Behind the palisade, one regiment of Braghafen militia led by Mayor Grunchild waited to repel the Orcs' main attack, while the lady ranger Victoria Seacrette waited close by. To the rear of the village, ready to counter any outflanking Orc attack, the second regiment of Braghafen militia led by Captain Gunther took up positions blocking the choke point at the village's stone bridge over the River Brag. The wizard Adhumla Brightsoul started the game hanging out on the veranda of the Golden Goblin Inn, no doubt grabbing a last snifter before the action got underway.

General Slabgut adjusted his belt and spat a thick gob of phlegm onto the muddy earth. Looking out across the southern approaches to Braghafen, he thought the village looked soft, ripe, and ready for looting. Around him, the ladz were grunting, checking the heft of their stickers and slashers, and shifting impatiently. Slabgut grinned, exposing a row of jagged, yellow teeth. He had sent some ladz on a cunning, wide march across the River Brag to catch the hummies from behind. “That's why I’s the General,” he thought to himself, “because I'm sneaky and tough.” Up on the right, the stone thrower crew was already squabbling over who got to pull the release lever. It was going to be a glorious day of lootin' and bashin'. Slabgut raised his sword high in the air, took a deep breath, and bellowed, “Attack!”

Mayor Grunchild stood behind the village's wooden palisade alongside his fellow villagers, his knuckles white against the pommel of his blade. The air smelled of the unmistakable, musk-heavy stench of an approaching Orc horde. To his flank, the stoic Dwarfs of Clan Stonehammer were methodically loading their crossbows, their low, rhythmic grumbling about ancient grudges providing a bizarrely comforting soundtrack. Behind him, guarding the stone bridge, Captain Gunther’s militia held the line with grim determination. The local ranger, Victoria Seacrette, adjusted her cloak and checked the edge of her axe blade with her thumb. The village was quiet, save for the occasional nervous bleat of sheep and a mumbled prayer to Sigmar. The calm was suddenly shattered by a roar of guttural Orc voices—the battle had begun.

Turn 1

The Orcs moved toward the village in a long battle line. They quickly noted the presence of Dwarfs among the village's defenders. This put any thoughts of settling scores with their own kind firmly out of their tiny Orcish minds, allowing the attack to proceed without falling into chaos due to failed animosity rolls. The Orc archers attempted to set fire to the village's palisade with fire arrows. Sadly, in a show of marksmanship that would become common during the battle, they only managed to hit the palisade with a single arrow, starting a small and unimpressive, smoldering fire. The stone thrower was even less impressive, missing the palisade entirely as the shot fell short.

The defenders decided that staying still and shooting was the order of the day. The only movement came from a few wandering livestock and the wizard Adhumla, who realized that hanging out at the Golden Goblin Inn probably wasn't his best position—especially with rumors that Orcs had been spotted marching along the north side of the river toward the village, with their first target likely being the inn itself. The defenders' fire had mixed results; the bow-armed human scouts did very little damage, but the Dwarfs and their crossbows were far more effective, forcing one Orc regiment to take a rout test, which they duly passed.

Turn 2

The Orc advance continued as the regiments marched forward again, coming within charging distance of the village palisades, ready for an assault next turn. With some great dice rolling, the Orc outflanking attack also appeared. The Orc regiment quickly started to march along the north side of the river with the intention of attacking Braghafen from behind. The Orc archers continued to hit nothing with their arrows. The stone thrower, however, showed the archers how it was done, landing a rock straight onto the palisade wall containing the village scouts. Not only did it destroy the palisade, but it also crushed an unlucky scout under the boulder, and several more scouts were killed by the collapsing wall. The remaining scouts, undaunted, passed their rout test.

The shock of seeing the village palisade collapse so easily prompted some reorganization from the defenders. The wizard Adhumla Brightsoul continued to head toward the center of the village. The surviving scouts decided to leave the remains of the palisade and head for some nearby woods. They were followed by the ranger Victoria Seacrette, who had identified the Orc stone thrower as a major threat and decided to put her magical Boots of Speed to good use to deal with it. The Dwarfs of Clan Stonehammer, still safely behind their palisade, put their crossbows to work, inflicting more casualties on the Orc regiment in front of them. Adhumla also attempted to cast the spell Cause Panic on a regiment of Orcs now visible due to the collapsed palisade. Despite using an extra constitution point to augment his spell, the Orcs passed their Willpower check to avoid its effects.

Turn 3

The two Orc regiments facing the Clan Stonehammer Dwarfs charged, hoping to get to grips with their short, bearded, ancestral enemies. General Slabgut, his bodyguards, and the third Orc regiment clambered over the ruins of the palisade, entering Braghafen and getting ready to charge the militia under Mayor Grunchild next turn. Meanwhile, the Orc outflanking regiment continued to head toward the rear of the village. The Orc archers tried to shoot down the rest of the scouts heading for the woods but, true to form, missed all their shots. The Orc stone thrower crew wasn't able to follow up on the success of their last shot and missed everything. In combat, the two Orc regiments were beaten back by the Dwarfs. Even worse for the greenskins, the Dwarfs captured one of the regimental standards and both Orc units routed. The Dwarfs, safely behind their defensive palisade, sensibly opted to hold their ground.

The defenders prepared themselves for the coming storm by maintaining their defensive positions. One militia unit continued to block the choke point at the bridge over the River Brag to slow down the Orc outflanking attack, while Mayor Grunchild kept the second regiment of militia barring the way of the Orc general and his bodyguards. Adhumla Brightsoul positioned himself between the two militia regiments. The scouts successfully made it into the woods along with Victoria. Some minor shooting from the scouts and Dwarfs caused little damage. In the magic phase, Adhumla cast the spell Zone of Steadfastness, allowing both militia units within 6” of him to triple their attacks and become immune to psychology (though not to rout tests).

General Slabgut kicked a piece of splintered palisade out of his way, stepping over the crushed remains of a hummie. The palisade was breached! The rock chukka had done its job, turning the wooden wall into a pile of kindling. "Right then, ladz!" Slabgut bellowed, waving his massive sword toward the village square. "Inside! Kill the stabby hummies, grab the squishy ones!" To his left, however, things weren't going quite as well. Slabgut scowled at the sight of panicked Orc warriors fleeing away from the village. The ladz who had charged the stunties were sprinting back the way they came, leaving their banners behind along with their pride. Slabgut cursed under his breath, “Useless gitz.”

The sound of splintering timber and the screaming of wounded men sent a chill through the defenders. The palisade was gone, and the Orc tide was pouring into Braghafen. Mayor Grunchild tried to shout an order, but his throat was dry and it came out as a whisper. He coughed, trying to look confident, and shouted again in a slightly shaky voice, “Shield wall!” His militiamen locked shields but couldn't hide the fear etched on their faces. A massive Orc form—one-eyed, clad in thick armor, and carrying a shield decorated with a hideous daemonic face—loomed through the dust of the collapsed palisade. Behind him, more heavily armored figures started to emerge. Grunchild glanced around and saw the wizard, Adhumla Brightsoul, nearby, his eyes blazing with arcane energy as he channeled his magic. The wizard's voice raised as his incantation reached a crescendo, and a warm, golden light spread from his body, washing over the terrified townsfolk. Grunchild felt the effects almost instantly; he felt stronger and faster as the fear drained from him. He glanced at the militia all around him—the effects of the magic were amazing, infusing their limbs with unnatural vigor and turning simple bakers andu farmers into ferocious, unyielding protectors. He could see the change in them: they would stand, and they would fight, bolstered by the wizard's powerful ward.

Turn 4

The fleeing Orc regiments continued to rout. General Slabgut and his bodyguards charged the Braghafen militia in front of them. The Orc flank attack regiment attacked the undefended Mayor’s Tower in hopes of breaking down the door and capturing the civilian inside. Likewise, the Orc regiment that had entered Braghafen through the destroyed palisade attacked one of the cottages. In the shooting phase, the stone thrower flattened a couple of Dwarfs but failed to damage the palisade they were defending, while the Orc archers continued their duel with the remaining scouts, taking down another human and watching the last scout rout.

In combat, General Slabgut challenged Mayor Grunchild to single combat. Magically enhanced to six attacks, Grunchild wounded Slabgut but took a wound in return. The militiamen, likewise magically enhanced, took down an Orc bodyguard. Slabgut and his ladz lost the combat but did not rout. Next to this combat, the Orc regiment failed to break down the cottage door, while across the river, the Orc outflanking regiment successfully broke down the door to the Mayor’s Tower and stormed it, grabbing a helpless villager. Finally, the two routing Orc regiments rallied.

For the defenders, the scouts routed off the table. Meanwhile, Victoria, using her magical Boots of Speed, hot-footed it around a rocky hill, ready to attack the Orc stone thrower next turn. In the village, the Dwarfs held their position, as did the 2nd regiment of Braghafen militia under Captain Gunther, who felt defending the bridge was their best option. The Dwarfs proceeded to kill a couple more Orcs with their crossbows in the shooting phase. In combat, the two generals produced a display of swordsmanship that a geriatric goblin would have been proud of, completely failing to cause any damage to each other. The magically enhanced militia and Orc bodyguards traded blows, causing a casualty each and resulting in a drawn combat.

Turn 5

After their success with the Mayor’s Tower, the Orc outflanking regiment charged the Golden Goblin Inn in search of more defenseless villagers to kidnap. The two freshly rallied Orc regiments marched straight back toward the Dwarf-occupied palisade, determined to get some revenge. The Orc regiment inside Braghafen continued to attack the cottage, while General Slabgut and his bodyguards remained locked in combat. The Orc archers moved forward and sent a stream of fire arrows into the Mayor’s Tower, remarkably landing several shots and starting a major fire. The stone thrower again targeted the Dwarfs, but this time missed them and everything else.

In combat, Mayor Grunchild landed some blows on General Slabgut, but Slabgut's thick armor saved him, and his return blow cut the valiant mayor down. The militia and Orcs traded blows, with another Orc downed, resulting in a draw. The Orcs attacking the cottage again failed to kick in the door. Meanwhile, the outflanking regiment smashed into the Golden Goblin Inn and bagged another villager captive.

The defenders decided that the civilians grabbed by the Orc outflanking regiment needed to be rescued, so Captain Gunther led his men across the bridge toward the waiting Orcs. The bridge, which the defenders had hoped to use as a choke point, now slowed their own advance instead as they maneuvered across it. Victoria Seacrette launched a one-woman charge on the Orc stone thrower crew. The Dwarfs again put their crossbows to use on the advancing Orcs, getting another one for their troubles. In combat, the militia and Orc bodyguards in Braghafen battered away at each other in a spectacular display of very average sword-fighting skill, resulting in a draw. Victoria cut down an Orc crewman but took a wound in return. Adhumla Brightsoul decided to cancel the Zone of Steadfastness and opted to cast Cause Panic on the Orc regiment attempting to assault the cottage. Though the Orcs failed their magic save, they passed their cool test and refused to panic.

Turn 6

The two Orc regiments decided it was second time lucky and charged the Dwarfs on the palisade again. The Orc outflanking regiment, aware it had two precious civilian prisoners, decided to hold its ground. The Orc archers fired more fire arrows at the Mayor’s Tower, causing it to catch fire completely; it was counted as destroyed. The Orc regiment attacking the cottage again failed to kick the door in, although the door was now down to only one wound.

Without the magical enhancements of Adhumla's Zone spell, the militia unit was beaten and forced back by Slabgut and his bodyguards, who then followed up and captured the standard of Braghafen. The militiamen broke and fled, while Slabgut and his bodyguards chased after them, running straight into Adhumla Brightsoul. Victoria cut down the two remaining Orc stone thrower crewmen, rendering the war machine out of action for the rest of the battle. The Orcs and the Dwarfs battled it out again, seeing the Orcs forced back but not routed.

The defenders of Braghafen took stock. Captain Gunther and the 2nd Militia regiment charged the Orc outflanking regiment, desperate to liberate the captured villagers. Due to the bridge, the militia had to attack in a long but narrow-fronted column that was less than ideal. Victoria, flush from successfully overwhelming the artillery crew, bravely launched a charge on the Orc archers. The 1st Militia regiment continued its rout. The Dwarfs again nailed another Orc with their crossbows.

In combat, Victoria was cut down by the Orc archers. Meanwhile, Adhumla found himself face-to-face with General Slabgut and his bodyguards. Armed only with a walking stick, the wizard managed to hold off the Orc general in hand-to-hand combat. Captain Gunther attacked the Orc outflanking regiment with cold fury, cutting down two Orcs. The militiamen and Orcs caused no further damage to each other, resulting in the Orcs losing the combat and routing. The victorious militia quickly rescued the captive villagers. In the magic phase, Adhumla, realizing that being in combat with a mean-looking Orc was not a great idea, cast the spell Hammerhand on himself to boost his hand-to-hand combat skills.

Turn 7

The Orc outflanking regiment continued to rout straight off the battlefield. The two Orc regiments facing the Dwarfs charged again, hoping that the third time would be the charm. The Orc archers held their ground. In combat, the two Orc regiments again got their heads bashed by the resolute Dwarfs of Clan Stonehammer, resulting in the last few survivors of both regiments routing. Despite his magical boost, Adhumla failed to hurt the hulking Orc general but took no damage in return, resulting in a draw. The last Orc regiment finally stormed the cottage and grabbed themselves a defenseless villager to kidnap.

For the defenders, Captain Gunther and the second militia regiment held their ground on the north side of the river, while the survivors of the first militia regiment continued to rout away from the battle. Having successfully led his Dwarfs to victory, the dwarven hero Jorgun Hammerson left his clansmen manning the palisade and charged the Orc bodyguards of General Slabgut in an attempt to aid Adhumla. In the combat that followed, Slabgut wounded the wizard, but Jorgun cut down a heavily armed bodyguard, resulting in a drawn combat. Looking around at his decimated army, General Slabgut decided to call it a day and signaled a retreat.

General Slabgut parried a surprisingly fierce blow from the human wizard. He might look like a puny hummie, but his bare fists glowed with unnatural light. Slabgut wasn’t sure what the magical light could do, but he had seen enough wizards to know he didn't want to find out. Slabgut was momentarily distracted by the sight of a lone stunty with a big axe throwing himself into the fight, hacking down one of his bodyguards. Slabgut looked out across the village. Through the dust and smoke, he could make out Orc warriors fleeing. “Zoggin' losers,” he grunted. He was also aware that the large rocks from the rock chukka seemed to have stopped. To his left, two of his regiments were fleeing away from the village once again, and this time they looked truly beaten. To his right, the ladz of another regiment were whooping with success; their captive villager was currently hogtied and slung over a large Orc’s shoulder, screaming. Slabgut looked at his rapidly failing attack and then back at the hummie captive. “I’m sure that's the hummie the boss wants,” Slabgut nodded to himself. “Time to get the zog out of here.” He stared hard at the wizard, spat a big wodge of phlegm at his feet, and roared, “All right ladz, time to go!” As the Orcs slowly fell back through the ruined village, Slabgut secretly hoped they had grabbed the right hummie, as he was sure his wizard master wouldn't let failure go unpunished.

As the remaining Orcs melted away from the burning village, a heavy, exhausted silence fell over Braghafen. Adhumla Brightsoul sat on a barrel, drained from the immense magical energies that had coursed through his body during the battle. He unclipped a small hip flask from his belt, removed the cap, and took a long swig of the elven brandy inside. As the spirit spread its warmth through his body, he allowed himself a moment to study the scene before him. The Mayor’s Tower was still burning; he watched the roof collapse in on itself, sending the flames leaping higher. Mayor Grunchild was gone, cut down in the center of the village, but his sacrifice had held the line long enough to bring victory. Adhumla's eyes gazed across the bodies of dead villagers. “If this can be called a victory,” he sighed. Across the river, Captain Gunther and his militia stood comforting the terrified villagers they had successfully rescued from the Orcs’ clutches. Jorgun Hammerson wandered up and leaned heavily on his axe, nodding grimly to Adhumla Brightsoul. “A bloody day, manling.” Adhumla nodded. “Your clansmen stood like a mountain. The Orcs will rue the day they challenged Clan Stonehammer,” Adhumla replied. Jorgun gave a brief nod. “Orcs were tougher in my youth. This lot might as well have been goblins. Mind you, I'm glad that the ranger lady dealt with the Orc stone thrower. That thing could have caused some issues.” Adhumla realized he hadn't seen the young lass for some time. He stood and gave the Dwarf a polite farewell before heading out to locate the brave ranger. The village of Braghafen still stood, its people free, but the soil was deeply stained with the price of their survival.

Result

After checking to see if the Orcs' captive was the elusive Silas the Sage (he wasn't), the victory points were totaled up. The result was a costly victory for the Defenders of Braghafen.