Previously on “Unorthodox Snow”: Prologue – Rangers Bailey and Higgins have to escape a mad Khadoran beserker warjack. Chapter I – They don’t get a warm welcome in Bainsmarket, but get send on a missi
Last weekend, Bartek, Samir, Alex and I went north to the Nordisch Masters in Bremen, where we wanted to find out who would become the new King in the North! Its May, so Winter isn’t coming for a good
As I already announced last week, for the forseeable future my Trolls will go on the shelf and I will switch over to Cygnar. But not before I took the Trolls out for a last spin. Last weekend was the
I don’t know exactly why posted the image, but I am glad they did. Borka will get an epic version in the next book and it will look like this: Do I need to say anything more? This might be the first H
A little over a year ago, Alex, Bartek and I got invited back into the hobby. We basically got roped into participating in the biggest tournament in Germany – the Heavy Metal Dayz. We had about 3 mont
Ironhide grew desperate. The Menites were closing in. To his right the Avatar of Menoth was lingering and terrorizing his troops. Up front one of his full blood trolls had just succumbed to a Dervish slicing him up. His champions had died one by one. Nearly all of his Kriel Warriors were already gone. It wouldn’t be long before his troops were overrun and defeated.
It was time for one last play. He send a few of the scribes towards the Avatar, to prevent the hulking machine from crushing his right flank completely. Then he spotted something through the bushes and hedges. Moving closer he saw Amon, the Menite warcaster, just standing there, his chain ball at the ready.
Madrak saw his lone chance to turn the table in this battle. He inched forward and gathered all his strength. He picked up Rathrok, heaved it over his head and threw it at Amon. The look on the enemy warcasters face was one of total suprise as suddenly a huge axe struck him dead center in the chest.
Madrak just sunk to the ground, happy to have survived this ordeal. He rallied what was left of his troops and secured the area. The Menites were retreating in complete shock after the loss of their leader.
Krul looked back through the underbrush towards Captain Gunnbjörn. The troll warlock started an invocation while walking over to him, Krul could see the faint glow of the runes. Then he felt a surge of energy go through him. Both his scope and his rifle started glowing for a moment before fading back to that rusted brown.
Krul nodded and turned to his men. Putting his scope to his eye he surveyed the enemy lines. Inexplicably the enemy warcaster had exposed himself some in the middle of the enemy formation. Not something Krul would have expected from the old man.
The Bushwhacker leader gave his men a sign and as a unit they moved forward. Coming into view of the enemy he could see them starting to realize their mistake. But before the Menites could do anything, he ordered his men to aim and fire on Severius.
Adding all their strength to his own shot, Krul carefully aimed at the warcaster and the unit let loose one giant volley.
When the smoke cleared he couldn’t see Severius anymore. What he saw was his subordinates frantically running towards their leader, their warjacks powering down and most of the troops turning away and leaving the battle field.
“I think we are done here” Krul said to his men. They turned around and walked back to their kin.
The battle was still raging on around them, but Skaldi Bonehammer wasn’t in fighting mood right now. He had just finished off that hellish machine, the Death Jack. His buddy Grom was sitting beside him, breathing heavily. The rest of their unit was still fighting, but Skaldi had opened the keg of beer he carried and was sharing it with Grom.
Then, out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement. Just glimpses of a dark hooded figure moving through the woods and behind the column. Without thinking Skaldi dropped the keg, and with a loud roar stepped over Grom and the still smoldering remains of the helljack in front of him.
The Cryxian warwitch was actually surprised to see him and recoiled in horror. He couldn’t blame her. He sure made an awesome sight. Beer dripping off his face, fury in his eyes and his mighty hammer raised above his head.
That hammer was the last thing that wretched Cryxian bitch saw before he send her soul – if she even had such a thing – back to her lord and master.
Ok – lets get this thing started again and lets delve into other topics as well.
Wargaming. Specifically Warmachine/Hordes. I played it for a few years after discovering it 10 years ago. After a hiatus and a major overhaul of the game, me and a couple of friends got back into it at the beginning of the year.
Now we are smack dab in the middle of the tournament scene and are constantly training and building lists and throwing dice. For a club war between our club (Headblast in Oberhausen) and another one in Dortmund (PADF) we are currently holding try-outs. Last night was one such game.