Heroes of the Goretide

Now, a blood cult of mighty warriors wouldn't really be complete without at least a few... mighty warriors, would it?

A barbarian horde wouldn't really be a compelte without adequate representation of the whole community. After all, history is full of badass warrior women, and as "Khorne cares not from where the blood flows", I'm sure theres no care given as to the gender of whomever shed it either. Unfortunately the range of Bloodbound warriors is a little short of female representation. 

Happily the Stormcast range is ripe for pilfering. Thanks to my local Warhammer store having a birthday, and the manager being a jolly decent chap, I managed to get my hands on just the right model... and heavily converted it to suit my purposes. 

meet Annie Kuhlsdaughter, Exalted Deathbringer of the Goretide

A mighty warrior maiden of the Tallowlands Goiretide, Annie such a ferocious and formiddable opponent that she is rumoured to be the daughter of the legendary hero Korghos Khul. This is a possibility, Korghos Khul was in the Tallowlands the season that Roralarach shared the sky with Lady Lisu turning the sky pink as The Lady's protection countered The Rage of Roralarach. On this rare occurrence it is possible for those who were under the thrall of the goretide to be subverted by Shala, the goddess of fertility, not for nothing is the rare event known as The moons of Lust. No one has been able to varify Annie's parentage, but the title has stuck and she seems to be doing a good job of living up to it.   
 

 modelling notes: Yet again I dug into the citadel skulls set for basing details, as you've no doubt noticed I've done with most of my heroes, after making a nice flat topped slate rock out of milliput. I then removed the cloak, loincloth, spaulders, and stomcast details from Larissa Shadowstalker, and replaced her spear tip with the most appropriate daemon blade from the fantastic selection in the wrathmonger/skullreaper set, and replaced her stormcast back symbol with a nice rack of skulls, again from the skullreaper set. All that was left was some greenstuff detailing on the armour plates to bring it into line with the other bloodbound heroes. 

I decided that painting her with a bare midriff, rather than a full torso sculpted breastpalte, would not only give her a badass set of abs that the most elite crossfitter would be jealous of, but, it'd be much more in keeping with the barbarian feel of the other semi-naked bloodbound heroes. 

Her Impaling Spear is magnetised at the wrist, because it'd have such a minimal chance of surviving a trip...anywhere... if that flimsy piece of plastic was glued at such a tangental angle to the rest of the model. it also means that it just pops off if it gets caught on anything, rather than breaking.   

 Heroes of the Goretide

You have a flag to follow, you have a spiritual leader to excite your devotees and rouse them into a frenzy, so how do you control and guide these frothing loonies if they start running in the wrong direction?

With a multi chorded whip of course!

enter Flengnir the Herdsman, Bloodstoker of the Goretide. 

This one is just a great model. He's fat and he's nasty, briutal and mutillated, there to flog your own  troops as much as the enemy, the fantasy equivalent of a Commissar... with a really sadistic twist. 

I love this model, and following suggestions to fully embrace the dabbled with Norse theme, I went with the bright blond hair, which was quite enjoyable to do. 

I've not yet fielded this chap in Age of Sigmar, because I'm still working on a Skulltake Battalion for him to lead, but the other bloodstoker I painted (who ended up pale and ginger) was a lot of fun to play in both Silver Tower and Gorechosen. 

 Heroes of the Goretide

What does any community, or cult, need? 

A spiritual leader, A mighty priest. 

Father Torpal, Slaughterpriest, Spiritual leader of the Goretide.

Having painted both slaughterpriest variants for my Gorechosen set, I decided that I wanted a slight variation, to enhance the model with a feel of more wizdom, more menace, more power... I also had a spare head from the aspiring deathbringer with impaling spear, and I've always been a fan of Rob Zombie I figured that the Hellbilly leading my rampaging horde of frothing maniacs down from the hills would be a fitting tribute. it just took a bit of trimming and a few whisps of greenstuff hair and the work was done. 

In painting this I was, again, playing with the skin technique and vibrant red effects. It needed a bit of a contrast and I felt the grey hair would add a touch of authority and wisdom to the model. The eyes are deliberately white (again as a tribute to the Hellbilly Deluxe cover) because they give the impression of a trance or ritual as he communes with his god offering up the sacrifice he's just made, with his blood drenched wrath hammer, in the hopes of a boon.

 Heroes of the Goretide.

Where to start when chronicling the mighty heroes leading the Goretide accross the Plains of Skulldonia whenever the red moon shines?

With the strongest?

With the most notorious?

With the most visible?

With a Flag! Everyone loves a good flag, and you need a flag to follow into battle!

Thus I present Sigurd the Totoem Bearer Bloodsecrator of the Goretide. 

A fun model to paint, this one was a trial of a skin technique recommended by Apologist (of course I did my own variation on the suggestion, which is why I got quite different results), I like it and have stuck with this style on the heroes I've done so far. I was also playing around with the reds, attempting to get a shiny blood droplet effect on the totem its self, to contrast with the white bone surround. 

Sigurd was instrumental in combatting the machinations of Nathaniel Hultz and his minions of the Changer, the mighty totem of Roralarach proving to be the bane of wizards, whilst whipping the reavers of the Goretide into a fighting frenzy. 

Profile: The Great Skritt

 

 

Believed to have arrived in the Tallowlands from another realm, the rat-scientist known as the Great Skritt has long harboured plans to dominate the Underland. Having manipulated, bullied or outright murdered a sufficiently impressive number of lesser engineers, he formed the notorious Skryrenet in order to harvest resources and influence warlords across the realm. This culminated in the Skaven Dread Council putting military decisions into the claws of Skryrenet, whereupon Skritt instigated a series of simultaneous civil wars designed to eliminate all power structures across the Skaven-held Underland and deliver full control to him.

His plan was close to succeeding when, desperate, the Skaven of the Dar'Koath caverns forged an alliance with the surface clans. An army of overland warriors led by Yan of the Connaghi entered the Underland and eventually destroyed Skryrnet's defence grid, causing Skritt to flee.

An unintended consequence of this was that the Underland goblins, previously weakened by their own infighting, saw opportunities to expand and a significant amount of territory was lost to goblin factions. Yan Connaghi remains in the Underland to this day, aiding the Skaven clans in battle against the goblins.

The Great Skritt disappeared for a period of time but has recently reemerged and seeks to rebuild Skryrnet. He seeks caches of warp-emerald, a potent energy source which will allow him to power a time-travel device he has built. Once he has enough warp-emerald to generate thirteen kilo-ratts of power* he will send the being known as the Verminator back in time to prevent Yan Connaghi from being born.

He believes that the fall of the Sinian Empire has left vast troves of warp-emerald free for looting. In particular, it seems that areas home to many Undead beings ("Gribblians", as they are known in the Skaven tongue) are rich in warp-emerald. Indeed, he has identified a Gribblian Terrorgheist whose hoard is likely to contain all the warp-emerald he needs.

Skritt is always accompanied by his pet, a well-trained rat called Morty McFlea. He intends to use McFlea to conduct the test run of his device.

It has been rumoured that, while on the run from the Connaghi, Skritt stole an item of value from the Underland goblins. The nature of this item is as yet unknown.

*Author's note: this is the power required to propel the device at a speed of eighty-eight miles per hour.

***CREDITS***

The Great Skritt was sculpted by none other than our very own Lord Blood the Hungry.

The Mystic Key

Hultz

Nathaniel Hultz looked around. He sniffed the air. It was here. It was here. He knew it, knew it without knowing how, but he knew it.

It had been close before, close enough to sense, but always whisked away – somehow – by unknown hands whenever he got near. This time was different. This time he had veiled his seeking and hidden his plans and now was in the presence of his reward.

The key. The unknown key; the infuriatingly, maddeningly unknowable key. A key to what? He could not even guess. But he had paid a steep price for the visions which guided him and he would not allow it to have been in vain.

Movement across the way brought him back from his thoughts and into the present. The barbarians were in position and ready to search. He wondered if he could trust them to surrender the prize if they found it first; probably not, by his reckoning. It did not matter – his own servants had been summoned and he would overwhelm the barbarians with cosmic fire once their usefulness expired. They were the hounds of a feral god and deserved no better.

He drew a deep breath and readied his mind. It seemed strange to think that he had expected to find the key in some deep dungeon or in an impenetrable fortress, such was its pull. And yet, here he stood, knee-deep in mist on the edge of some nameless, dreary town too close to the Tolerance to be called civil. Perhaps, when his life’s work was finished and songs sung of his deeds, the story would be changed to better suit its significance.

He saw the barbarians step forward to begin the search. With a thought, he commanded his own followers to do the same.

It was time. 

************

Torpal

Torpal tried not to grin. He knew the pretence was almost over; battle was nigh, he could feel it. It had been too long coming and a reckoning was due.

For months now, Torpal and his priests had travelled across Rhô, spreading worship of the Warhound to the towns and villages they passed through. Mostly they were run out of town before they could sow more than a token scattering of war-fever among the populace, but Torpal was old enough and wise enough to know that a true inferno rises from many lesser fires and that he may well have perished before his life’s work truly bloomed to its full, raging glory.

A few settlements, however, had proved to be receptive to his exhortions and their – mostly impoverished and resentful – inhabitants had turned their streets and squares into cauldrons of fury. Peasants became gladiators and revelled in their brief moments as gore-soaked champions until they were cut down by their friends and neighbours. From these theatres of combat a mighty few emerged triumphant, worthy of their new place at Torpal’s side.

They had been diverted from their task by the appearance of the one called Hultz. He had offered them gold in exchange for their assistance in seeking a mysterious treasure, and in doing so had revealed his own foolishness. For it was clear that Hultz had identified Torpal’s men as followers of the Warhound, and further still it was clear that he was one of the myriad ‘civilised’ men who saw the Wild Gods as brutish loners whose sole occupation was jostling for supremacy with each other. But like any clansman, Torpal knew that the gods bartered and bargained with each other. Indeed, the one known as the Other Trickster had appeared to Torpal in a vision. He had offered Torpal information and, when Torpal asked what it would cost, had said that Torpal knowing was price enough. Torpal was certain that there would be a hidden cost, but had agreed and was granted knowledge of Hultz and his quest. So it was that when Hultz approached him for aid, Torpal held in check his desire to cleave the dandy’s head from his oh-so-finely-cloaked shoulders and accompanied him across many lands to this unremarkable field on the edge of this mean, measly town.

Torpal knew that Hultz was a wizard – he could almost smell the magic oozing out of the man’s pores – and he suspected him of being a lapdog of the Treacherous One. As such, it seemed to Torpal that despite being a fool and a braggart Hultz would be possessed of a measure of cunning and would have secret followers of his own to summon. It was to be expected that Hultz would betray Torpal’s men once he had found what he sought.

It was no surprise to Torpal therefore when the magic coalesced into a cohort of twisted beings. A powerful retinue emerged around Hultz, and Torpal was certain that Hultz was capable of more. They were on opposite sides of the field, ready to search for the mysterious item which Hultz sought. From across the field Torpal was sure that he could see Hultz smirking, secure in his superiority.

Torpal’s instinct was to pre-empt the inevitable betrayal and attack, but he was genuinely interested to know what it was that Hultz was seeking. In any case, Torpal had reason to believe that his men would be aided in battle from an unexpected quarter. In his arrogance Hultz had neglected to give any thought to the town on whose border they stood. He did not even know its name. But Torpal knew.

He had been there before. 

************

Prologue

As Hultz and Torpal instructed their followers to begin the search a thin breeze blew some of the mist away. For a brief period the long grass and tall weeds of the field could be seen, bending a little in the wind. Then something else emerged. A number of curious and unexpected shapes – piles of things, floating rocks and other such items – could be seen among the greenery. Certainly they had no cause to be in a place such as this, and the watchers could not be sure if they had been there all along or whether they only appeared when observed.


Suddenly there was movement near the centre of the field. Something glanced over the tops of the weeds and shrieked when it saw the assembled searchers. A gust of wind – much stronger than before – burst over the field and blew down the vegetation. Visible to all was a strange goblin, clearly panicking as it shovelled pieces of gold and silverwork into a bizarre, living satchel-creature.


Torpal’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Lühtefiend!” he gasped, disbelieving. The goblin yelped once more and dashed into a patch of longer grass, vanishing from sight.
 

************

 I GM'd a game at the weekend between Father Torpal, priest of Rorralarach (Lord Blood the Hungry) and Nathaniel Hultz, alleged boss of Jethelech (Omricon). Mostly the intention was to start to familiarise ourselves with the Age of Sigmar rules, but everyone knows narrative games are the best so we took the opportunity to write in a cool setting and start to nudge the Tallowlands story along. While I'm not going to give you a blow-by-blow account of the game (although a few battle photos will hopefully appear in the near future...), some of the stand-out moments were:

- Torpal using an ability on the ground, in the hope of making the treasure goblin run towards him (this was one of those delightful moments you get as a GM, where one of the players does something you would never have come up with yourself).

- A unit of 5 Pink Horrors getting chopped up in melee and the unit managing to end the turn with 5 pink and 10 blue Horrors. Maffs.

- Torpal inciting the locals to fight with absolutely everybody, earning Lord Blood some victory points and Rorralarach a new town.

- Shanduko appeared!

- A Slaughterpriest went to investigate a floating, glowing rock and was really disappointed to discover that it was only a floating, glowing rock.

- Hultz grabbed the treasure goblin (and key) and then acted exactly as you'd expect by leaving his followers to get pummelled while he made a run for it.

All of these were great, but by far the best moment for me was seeing the look on Omricon's face when he realised that there was a treasure goblin to pilfer. Pure joy.

The Goretide

The Red Moon Rises part 2

Hjorvard woke. At least he felt like he'd just woken, but it was still dark? No, his eyes weren't open. He tried to open them, they wouldn't open. "Gods! I'm blind!" he thought. No, there's just something keeping them shut, he moved his arm to rub his eyes, and winced at the pain, oh it was sore, the wince caused more pain to shoot through his body. Everything hurt! As he moved his skin pulled and tugged, hairs tore out as something coating it cracked and clung and came apart as he moved. 
As he took off his helm and rubbed off the sticky crustiness caking his eyes shut he began to take in his situation. 

He was slumped against the wall of a cliff with a big rocky overhang blotting out the sun overhead. The ground was cold earth, and he appeared to be covered in a crusty substance that he realized must be dried blood, absolutely caked in it! 
Everything hurt! He was sore from head to toe with fatigue and exertion. He'd only just woken, but had he ever felt this exhausted before? 
On the plus side, apart from a lot of bruising, a few shallow cuts, and extreme ache in all his muscles, he did seem to be intact. There was a dent full of rock dust in his new helm and the back of his head was a little tender, but the helm seemed to have done its job, and was otherwise intact and still wearable. 
Oh! his legs hurt, and they wouldn't move. there was something pinning them down, he reached down and used the arrows sticking out of it to move the heavy body of the big hairy beastman aside, the source of the blood caking him, and squeeked as the returning circulation caused a 'pins and needles' sharp tingling sensation up and down his legs.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom he could make out more shapes in the dark area under the overhang. There were robed bodies everywhere. skinny gangly limbs poked out from under the robes, one was face up he looked into lifeless beady eyes, sharp teeth, pointy ears... goblins! 
a sudden cold sensation of fear of the unknown trickled down his spine, and he looked for a weapon. one of his knives was under the beastman's chest, the other was nowhere to be seen but there was a heavy, brutal looking, crude axe nearby, so he took that. Feeling more secure, and a lot braver now that he was armed, he got, painfully, to his feet and began to investigate. It was time to find out where the Goretide had left him.

Through the gloom he could make out more corpses...lots of grots and the occasional other, thankfully no one he recognized, it had been a massacre!
He vaguely remembered Father Torpal trying to drum home an important point about grot encampments in some of their navigation classes, but the dull throbbing from the blow to his head was making it difficult to recall any details.

The camp was inside some kind of hap-hazard fence he guessed was a crude goblin attempt at a palisade wall. the tents looked to be some kind of hide, as he closed on the nearest one he noticed the unusual texture and realized it was the skin from a huge mushroom, adorned with trinkets, presumably of value...
Treasure Goblins!!! Hjorvard almost shouted out in excitement as he remembered. That must be it, the point Father Torpal had been making, goblin camps were famous for Treasure Goblins, they were in all his favourite heroic legends of the Tallowlands. A magically enhanced goblin who carried all the tribe's wealth and plunder, and if you could find its horde, or catch the treasure goblin its self you were rich!! Rich! Treasure! Magic items! the fabled stuff of heroes, this was clearly his destiny unfolding. He began excitedly searching the tents and stalking shadows, looking for signs of movement and anything that looked like a stash of treasure. 

He was moving some grubby blankets aside to look behind them when something moved! it shrieked as he looked at it then raced out of the tent entrance. it was  quick! he gave chase and made a grab for it, it jinked left dodging his hand, but he still had the blanket in the other and flung it as he dove in the direction the creature was going. 
it was definitely under the blanket, he could see it wriggling for the top edge, and he moved his arm to trap it. when it realized it was trapped it stopped moving. he gathered himself. got ready, flung the blanket aside and grabbed the creature underneath. 
the little blighter bit him on the thumb. he recoiled then grabbed it tight. 
"A Ha!" he exclaimed. "now lets see your treasures!" 
it squeaked, gasped... he realized he was squeezing very tight, too tight. ashamed he relaxed his grip so it wasn't crushing but was still too secure for the creature to struggle free. it was a small green humanoid creature with big ears and a huge nose. It looked at him forlornly, sobbed, and he realized it had wet its self. its big eyes had weren't full of menace, it didn't look very bright at all. where was its treasure? come to think of it this wasn't much bigger than a cat, it couldn't carry much treasure. bits of lessons returned through the murk of his memories, "you're a snotling aren't you?" he said. there wasnt a glimmer of understanding from the creature, it just continued to look forlorn. "well, on your own you are hardly a threat." he set it down and released it, it stood quaking for a moment, then realized it wasn't going to be eaten, and scarpered.   

He continued to look through the camp for something useful, and possibly a treasure goblin.

All he found was a box of dangerous looking mushrooms and a small silver sickle.  
he sat down on a rock, his head was clearing, memories of the lesson were coming back...

...it was sunny, the class was outside under the old tree. 
"...and what do we know about the Tallowland Grot...?" said Father Torpal. 
" treasure goblins!" blurted Hjorvard. 
the class laughed, he felt his cheeks redden. 
"that's just a fairy tale for children Hjorvard," Father Torpal tutted, "I honestly thought you were past that!" he shook his head. the mocking laughter increased,
Hjorvard wished the ground would swallow him up, some of his classmates were half his age!
"...but every fairy tale has a grain of truth in it somewhere." Father Torpal winked 
"I'll try again, if you'll let me finish..." he glanced at Hjorvard who hung his head. 
"What do we know about the Tallowland Grots, in reference to post goretide navigation?"
"they Follow the moon?" said someeon Hjorvard didn't see
"good!" said Father Torpal "many grot tribes throughout the realms are moon clan's, their religions believe they gain their power from a big bad moon. so they follow the moon hoping it will lead them to power and glory."
"which Moon?" Tova asked
"care to elabortate?" invited father Torpal
"which moon," she repeated"we have so many in the Tallowlands, there's, the Lady Lisu, Rorolorach, the Wyrdmoon, the Emerald beacon, Naethe's torch..."
"...And here we have the problem." interrupted Father Torpal. "some realms have just one moon, so the positioning of a moon clan grot encampment can be a useful navigation tool, if you are familiar with your almanac and know which phase of which season  you are in. but unfortuantely, in the tallowlands we had so many moons and they follow such a variety of bizarre paths that it it nigh on impossible to know which one, if any, the particular grot clan you have encountered was following. Indeed, some of the most zealous, or possibly daftest, moon clans chase them all! night after night they race back and forth, zigging and zagging across the Tallowlands, and sometimes spiralling if there are several moons waxing in conjunction. 
So, what we know about the Tallowland Grots in reference to post Goretide navigation and attainment of bearings is... that they are utterly useless!"

As the memory of the lesson finished playing back in his mind Hjorvard sighed and slumped despondently, alone on his rock.  

  

   

The Red Moon

The Red Moon Rises: part 1

He deflected her attack and struck back. She turned it aside with her blade and shot past him...she smelt amazing...Pain erupted as Tova struck his elbow, ribs, and nape of neck with her "knives". She was quick!
"Point to me!" she smirked.
Hjorvard felt his face redden as they reset, he had to blot out the distractions! They were training, this was important, lose focus and it could cost you everything!
He longed to wield an axe, but more exotic weapons were scarce so you had to prove yourself as a warrior to earn the right to wield them. 
Training had been tough, but it felt good. Strength and skill had vastly improved since they'd started, but it was all coming together. Honing their fighting skills to instinctive reactions had taken a lot of work over years but they were almost there. 
The orange sky said the gentle gaze and protection of Lady Lisu was waning. They needed to be ready, the time was almost upon them. 

It was unusual sleeping in until mid morning, but tonight was going to be exhausting. Hjorvard still ached from yesterday's training, bruises were starting to show, but he did his morning stretches and went to help prepare the food.
As Father cut the meat he looked across the table. 
"When I came of age it was a time of mixed emotions." he announced "You know the words, you've seen the rites, you understand what is expected... get through the ritual. yes, its in front of everyone you know, but its just a ceremony. Its tonight you have to prove you are worthy. its tonight and every night the blood moon shines that we are all counting on you to do your part."
he went quiet and seemed to finish, then he caught his wife's gaze across the table.
"...but don't worry" he continued "your mother and I will be with you. now lets eat, then its off to the temple."

Father Torpal's sermon went on for quite a while. the theme was duty, loyalty, remembering your roots, and doing your part. It was just the two of them coming of age this season, and the eyes of the whole village were on them as they knelt at the altar, observed the rites, and the blessing was performed. It was nerve wracking, but the blessing was to give them strength for what lay ahead. 

Hjorvard stood outside the temple gazing at the horizon. No trace of Yellow, The Lady Lisu was gone from the sky, and it was clear. Was that a touch of red on the horizon? his stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. 
The punch to his arm snapped him out of the daydream. "well, you didn't mess it up!" Tova said with a look of mock surprise. 
"you didn't either," he replied 'can't you think of something better to say?' he thought, he could have kicked himself! "Rorralarach will rise soon."he said
"it will" she nodded.
they gazed out at the hills on the horizon. She held his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. He froze and felt his face redden. The nervous butterflies in his stomach had turned into a bag of fighting ferrets...and one of them had escaped and was heading elsewhere!
"are you ready" he asked
"Almost" she replied
"what do you mean?" 
still holding his hand she stepped round to face him, gazed into his eyes for a moment, then kissed him. He paused, startled, then kissed back. he'd been imagining it for weeks, but it was better than that. Amazing! 
They parted. 
"what was that for?" he asked. 
she looked sheepish, then a little melancholic "just in case..."
The Bell rang.
They started, and looked towards the hills. a line of red had appeared on the horizon. 
"Its our first duty to make sure the children are safe in the temple vault." she said.       
he nodded "crazy to think we don't have to spend another night down there ever again!"

The vault was secure, The gate was barred and they stood with all the adults of the village by the wooden palisade that marked its edge. The sky was mauve above, fading through to magenta, and the red moon was visible above the horizon.              
"I can see them!" someone shouted
"steady yourself! his father flexed his brawny shoulders, "breathe and remember your training" he growled. 
"we'll see you in the morning, dear."  his mother said to reassure him. 
They could hear the noise of movement carried by the wind.
oh gods! he could see them! men, beastmen, other things? there were a LOT! and they looked crazed! He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, his heart thumping in his chest. he shuddered, he felt sick. fear? elation? nerves. His hand trembled so he gripped his knives tighter. They were almost here! He could see fifty..no a hundred... no, more! He lost count. Stopped trying to count. The terror, excitement, and anticipation mingled into one. 
They were two hundred yards away, and running. he glanced left, then right, seeing tensed warriors, steely determination, and set fighting stances. 
At a hundred and fifty yards, he felt his knee tremble and his stomach lurch. but he controlled it. 'remember your training' he growled at himself. 
a hundred yards. 
He could feel the ground pounding, and smell the approaching horde. Heart pounding, nerves singing, he tensed... then relaxed.           
he glanced above at the moon, so big, so red, a moment of calm. 
Then the Red orb of Rorralarach glared back, deep into his soul! he felt its power course through him. 
The last thing he remembered was roaring "Blood...!" as the frenzy took hold and he joined the harvest. 

Of Lost Towns and Petty Kingdoms: Geography of the Tallowlands

Places of note in the Tallowlands

In order to flesh out the Tallowlands a bit we decided to create a bunch of places.  Or at least archive what we have so we have some idea of where or what stuff is.


The PCRC also decided to start doing some role playing within the Tallowlands using D&D 5e rules and it seems to be working quite well so far.  The brave (mostly) band of adventurers is busy adventuring in the deep south of Rhô near the port city of Narya, one of the islands (or continents?) of the Tallowlands. Cue lots of shenanigans with a party composed of an interesting combinations of Rogues, fighter classes and spellcasters with a mixture of elves, dwarfs, humans and even a comety* lizardman for POSTERity.

Here are the places we have fleshed out (literally in the case of the ghoulish Hollow mountain)

***

The Tolerance of Crows – borderline of the Charred Lands. The point past which even scavengers do not venture.

Narya – port city, famed for its ancient pillars which lead to the waterfront and some distance out to sea.

Charred Lands – seen by many as a ruined wasteland which was previously the Sinian Empire. Many of its fallen cities and withered hills are now haunted by monsters and fell beings from Nygorach, particularly towards the north.  Other parts of the Charred Lands have been rumoured to have been taken over by other forces hostile to order, particularly on the border, the tolerance of crows.  Rumours exist of several new kingdoms vying for dominance:
- A Vampire kingdom looking to expand out of the Charred Lands
- An Ork warlord extracting food tithes from peasants on land which has become fertile with volcanic material and a long period of fallow
- A decadent fromer state of the Sinian Empire whose Lords bargained with Slaanesh in exchange for continuing rulership of their state
- A hard to find and seemingly normal land governed by the Watchers of the Pact and led by a former celestial council mage who believes he is on top of a bargain made with Jethelech** to push back the borders of the Charred Lands away from his beloved former home in the Dawn Mountains.

- An area which has become overcome with deadly and carnivorous vegetation and equally deadly animal life which has evolved to resist it.  Some say Champions of Khorne and mighty Ork warbosses test themselves here before they launch their campaigns of blood or conquest.  Some say a particularly bloodthirsty tribe of lizardmen live here where it is warm all the time.

Who knows what evil could befall the rest of Rho is these kingdoms had the ambition to expand or the cunning to stop fighting each other or Nygorach?

Nygorach – a spiteful realm in the far North.

Mirrorkeep – a fortress-city in central Rhô. Home to the Mages’ Guild, and seat of the Celestial Council.

Heavens Gate- A Stormcast Peak in the abandoned Sinian Empire, besieged on all sides

Rhô – ancient name for the lands which now make up the Southern Fiefdoms.

Ludamil - A town in a backwater border province of the Sinian Empire.  Its fate is uncertain

Tirinsdale – a small town near Jerret’s Pass in the Greyspur Mountains.

Yeldenburg/Jeldenburg – largest city in the Southern Fiefdoms. Situated on a hill by the banks of Lake Peskha.

Dar’Koath Highlands

Eastpine Vale - A great battle took place here during the Sinian Empire Interregnum.  The result secured the external security of the Empire although it did not resolve the internal turmoil being experienced at the time.  It now exists as a ruined city in the Charred Lands, a testimony of hubris

Lonely Road – route between Stonehold and Oakhall in the Glory of Contestation. The most northerly road in the Southern Fiefdoms.

The Glory of Contestation – previously the Sinian Empire’s southerly provinces, assimilated and defended by the Southern Fiefdoms during the Ghoul War when Nygorach invaded and sacked the Sinian Empire. The regions which border the Charred Lands are sparsely-populated, dark and dangerous places.

Stonehold – a great city hewn into Stubborn Peak. Founded and subsequently lost by the dwarfs in a bygone age, it was later claimed by humans. In recent years, dwarfs from the East have made their way there in small numbers and it is now one of the few places where dwarfs and humans live alongside one another. Along with Oakhall, Stonehold was the epicentre of Southern resistance against Nygorach in the Ghoul War.

Oakhall – a settlement in the forest canopy surrounding Cadair-ap-Nadhg, the enormous, magically-sustained oak which is believed to have been the first tree summoned by Caer-Nadhg. The forest suffered catastrophic damage during the Ghoul War, and its inhabitants now face a constant battle to preserve and re-grow what remains.

Barrow Hills – an old burial ground which pre-dates the Southern Fiefdoms.

Tower Run - A series of aeemingly abandoned magical Aelf Towers and obelisks on the Tolerance of Crows

Zhi-Sun – southeastern city, known for its artists and artisans.

Green Vine – a druid grove.

New Sidence - In the South Eastern peninsula of Rho lies the fiefdom of Kinea, one of many loosely run and competing states.  In Kinea is the bustling fief-rule (capital) of New Sidence.  New Sidence prides itself above all in being cosmopolitan and neutral, trading anything and everything and rumour has it, giving individual realm gate access to anyone that can pay, from any alliance (no armies!).  Their culture is so mercantile that a wide range of illegal goods are deemed legal if the owner can prove they are in transit to somewhere else and can pay the fees of course.

Some call it a dazzling metropolis where fortunes can be made and lost, exotic goods can be obtained and traded to ships going into and out of the Tallowlands.  Where a man, elf, dwarf, ork, or undead can be anything he wants to become (for the right price).

Others call it a hive of scum and villainy which no one dare to move against because somehow somebody there knows most of your secrets and are probably blackmailing you.

Iliearch’s Tower – an Elven settlement, closed to outsiders.

Wallovia - a formerly abandoned Sinian Empire state it is now seemingly reoccupied but with a more ominous set of rulers and residents

Gravegate – a dreary town in Drannor Valley, constantly plagued by monsters and malign spirits.

Éo – trading city to the west.

Burnt Copse – a small wooded area where, it is rumoured, lives a powerful witch. The name comes from its abundance of Black-bark oak trees.

Left Ventricle – a gnomish town. Named by its founder Krill Jellabone, apparently because he liked how it sounded.

Gargletooth – a stretch of freshwater rapids, impassable due to its many knife-sharp rocks and loose boulders. Home to a tribe of river trolls.

Voyager’s End – a small, nondescript village which sits beneath a sudden bend in a notoriously treacherous mountain road. The road does not go to the village, but many a morning has seen the discovery of the fallen corpse of another luckless traveller who underestimated the danger.

Tenshu – a forested area with many shrines in the foothills of the Dawn Mountains.

Dawn Mountains – the most easterly area of inhabitation. The people of this region are the first to see the sun each day.  Home of Alba Mesa and the aether port city of Barak Mhorna of the forces of order.

Ochre Rock – twin-peaked mountain, home to two constantly-warring dragons. Travellers are wise to avoid this area.

Hollow Mountain – a ghoulish realm.

Steepacre - this happened here, no one wants to talk about it (except bob_hunk who made all these cool! undead! models!)

Bob_hunk's amazing glowing corpse cart

Cool undead models and glowing scenery.

apologist's dawi fight off some nasty doggos.

Capable Kings – a small, old village.

Three Bridges - this will be important later.

Cripple Peak - skaven have been spotted here.

Chaunterwick Purefinder - Home of the famous human bloodbowl team

Ulfheim - home of the ‘famous’ Bloodbowl team bearing its name, this otherwise slightly run down town is more or less run by merchant guilds

Shallowell - Dont go – haunted. Unless you want to get rich and maybe possibly die or run into a gang of aggressive rat catchers

Migdahlgorm, a dwarfish term for 'Old/Respected Outpost', this mountain range contains most of the Throng of Nog's holds. The humans of the region call the mountains the Gorm Ranges.

*This is an in-joke on Xali-Qhops' background, not a spelling mistake, please stop correcting it :)

**Some speculate, a facet of Tzeentch

Mordheim... or Shallowell?

Mordheim... or Shallowell?

Our very own LordBloodTheHungry decided some time ago to run a Tallowlands gang campaign using the Mordheim rules – and what an amazing start we had.  The game was sent in the spooky town of Shallowell, a destination set within the Tallowlands with a reputation for danger, risk and reward for anyone foolhardy or brave enough to make their fortune there.

This is my gang.  I painted it myself which was an achievement given my occasional brush aversion.  I am the second worst painter in the PCRC so please do not look too closely.

LordBloodTheHungry is, I hope, going to say more in a future post about the campaign, which many fondly remember even if it did get sidetracked after starting.

The game had a great narrative, beautifully-crafted terrain, a great result and most importantly for the purposes of this blog it significantly contributed to the background of the Tallowlands.  I used the story below to introduce my Merchant caravan 'gang' as well as to tie in a few places in the Tallowlands.

This is a mid battle scene with cool models and looming scenery.

***

"Now, what are we going to do about you, Theodore?" the councilman pondered. "No merchant has been found guilty of this particular offence; well, not since the Ponzi mausoleum business when my father sat in this seat."

"We have been friends a long time – since we were lads, Hadwin. Surely you can overlook this?" pleaded Theodore.

"It's too late for that, my friend. We have overlooked this kind of thing for too long." Hadwin paused to relight his pipe and to mutter at the poor quality of the pipe weed he was smoking. "When you decided to sell deer meat poached from the Duke's estate 'off the books', you went too far."

"I had no idea that it was stolen, Hadwin!" protested Theodore, putting on his best impression of sincerity.

"Don't give me that fake shock routine. You know as well as I do that your trespass was that you did not pay the Guild its cut of your proceeds. It would be a... shame if the guild couldn't afford to... protect you from the Duke, were he to find out about this."

There was a pause whilst Theodore tried desperately to think up further excuses. Hadwin let him squirm a bit more.

"Now, seeing as we are friends, I have managed to convince the guild to offer you a way out of this." Theodore's face lit up as he saw a way out of his predicament.

"The guild is looking for new avenues of income and we have... ahh – how should I put this? – 'reliable information' that there are riches to be exploited by setting up a trade route with the town of Shallowell. It could be an opportunity to repay your debt to the guild, and to become very wealthy."

Theodore's apprentice Guire, dutifully standing behind him, dropped his master's hat which thudded comically on the wooden floor. "Shallowell? I heard what happened down there, that is suicide – you might as well kill me now!" Theodore exclaimed.

"Come now Theodore, there is no need to get hysterical. An enterprising and careful merchant can make his name and his fortune down there. Besides, the Merchants of Ulfheim Guild are not dwarfs: we don't keep grudges – only money! The Duke himself has an interest in this working and will be sending you two of his knights to accompany you. He has a cousin down there, too, and would like you to pick up an item from him of a... ahh... personal nature. He is not in a hurry to retrieve the item, which gives you plenty of time to do business there. The guild will also waive the remaining payments you owe for your wagon."

Hadwin paused for a moment to see what reaction he was getting before making a quick decision. "We will also send Robin with you. His magic should keep you safe from any arcane threats."

Theodore decided that, despite the danger, this was the best chance he was going to get to salvage the situation. He knew that the wizard they were going with was persona non grata after allowing himself to be hired for the last Blood Bowl match – not by the Ulfheim Exiles, but by the opposition. 

Theodore knew what the guild was doing: clearing the town out of problems. More importantly, however, he knew that the guild's main interests was still making money, and he would receive their support as long as he was nowhere near Ulfheim.

"Fine, I agree to your terms. The Craggy Forest Merchant Company will spearhead the guild's efforts to establish a presence in or near Shallowell." And with that, he spun around, grabbed his hat and marched off towards the door and down the stairs, trying to salvage at least some of his dignity.

Hadwin's assistant emerged from the door behind the councilman. "Did he agree, sir?"

"Yes he did, Hildric, yes he did. Let us see how successful will be the journey of the 'Merchant of Venison'..."

***