Race Through The Silver Tower, Company of Sigmar Round 2
Team Name: Company of Sigmar
Team:
Manfred the Lord Castellant
Norman the Knight Questor
Grimli the Cog Smith
Felix the Excelsior Warpriest with Fido the Gryph Hound
The Company of Sigmar
The fragment of Ghyran.
Part 1:
Norman.
“How much further?” The Cogsmith grumbled.
“Not far Master Ironhand,” Felix replied.
“We’ve been walking for days,” The Duardin groaned.
“It’s been no more than a few hours,” Felix replied coolly. “Just a little further and we’ll make camp,” Grimli gave a muted grumble of protest but said no more. The Company continued for a short while in silence, the endless maze of corridors were all blurring into one now, and every time they passed through another strange, swirling doorway the Duardin could have sworn they had walked the length of this chamber before. Grimli who had been walking at Felix’s side, dropped back a couple of paces to hang nearer the back of the group. When he was sure the Warpriest was not looking, the crafty Duardin reached into a small concealed compartment in this armoured breastplate, and produced a heavy iron hipflask. Before they had left the tavern Grimli had filled the flask with the best and fieriest whiskey, known as Dragon’s Tongue.
Dragon’s Tongue Whiskey was the finest ever crafted. The whiskey is cut with water from the Glass Sea, and aged in barrels made of solid gold. But the not so secret ingredient, and the source of the whiskey’s lofty name and almost deadly spice, is that the liquor is mixed with the saliva of Fyre Drakes. Such extravagance was obviously costly and even to fill this small flask cost a small fortune, but with his new found wealth Grimli could afford ten barrels of the stuff. The Cogsmith had lived a humble life up until now and such luxurious liquors had often alluded his pallet, such top shelf booze was the stuff he dreamed of, and he quivered with excitement as he unscrewed the small delicate lid. He had heard that even one drop of this stuff could floor an Ogor and so his first sip was a tentative one.
As he lifted the flask to his mouth the heady aroma of the booze wafted up his nostrils and even the fumes from the Whiskey burned a blazing trail from his nose down the back of his throat. He fought back a choking cough and in the flickering light of the torches lighting the chamber he could see the liquor was a luminous orange the colour of glowing embers. The fiery liquor touched his lips and before he could even take half a mouthful of the stuff he wrenched the flask away from his mouth instinctively. The liquor set fire to every nerve it touched and even the nerves in his teeth began to sing in his gums. His tongue that swam the in burning brew could have been submerged in lava and as the Duardin came to swallow the flaming mouthful is throat closed reluctantly. Grimli gave a muffled shout from his tightly sealed lips as his mouth began to burn as if it were full of acid. However, the thrifty Duardin would not allow himself to eject the costly liquid from his mouth and soon a torrid tug of war between the Duardin’s instincts not to swallow the burning Whiskey and his hatred of wasting money and good booze emerged.
He began to choke and splutter behind his tightly sealed lips, his muffled moans sounding like that of a drowning man fighting back the urge to instinctively gasp for air. Ahead of him Felix cast a half glance over his shoulder.
“You’re unusually quiet Master Ironhand,” The Warpriest said. Grimli was so shocked that he had been spoken to that he involuntarily swallowed the mouth full of Dragon’s Tongue Whiskey. It burned a path down to his stomach so hot that he could feel every twist and turn in his gullet as it was illuminated by the liquor. He fought back a choke as tears swam in his eyes and sweat begin to prickle on his brow growing steadily crimson with a deep flush.
“Jush tied is all,” The Cogsmith tried to speak but his tongue was numb, “Fowt we wor maykn camp shoon,” Grimli tried to clear his throat and regain his composure but now his sight began to blur and a gleeful dizziness settled over him. He felt as if he had just drank a whole barrel of ale, his cheeks were warm and flush and his head was becoming so light it was almost drifting off of his shoulders.
Felix turned and eyed Grimli with a look of confusion and an odd glimpse of concern.
“Are you alright Master Ironhand?” Grimli quickly tucked the hipflask back into its hiding place and tried to fix his stare onto Felix’s face. The shape of the Warpriest swam and blurred before his eyes and although he tried to gain his composure the Cogsmith’s light-headedness became one of sheer giddy elation. The Duardin let out a soft chuckle as his legs began to wobble beneath him, and his stout frame tottered on his stumpy legs. “Grimli?” Felix pressed and the two Stormcast now halted their advance at the head of the group and turned around concerned. They strode in great clunking strides and were both before Grimli in a moment, their keen ethereal eyes scanning him.
“Master Ironhand?” The Knight Questor spoke in a deep and booming monotone. The rolling thunder that was his voice only made the Duardin laugh harder, his chest heaved in great roars and he wobbled and wavered comically on his legs.
“Mashter Irun Hand!” The Duardin mocked, “We’ve bleen awking threw these corrindoors all yish time and I still dwon’t kno yor namesh,” The Cogsmith poked a stubby finger at the two golden giants. The Stormcast gave each other a perplexed look.
“I am Knight Questor Normanius Aquillix Velloxor Primis,” The Knight Questor said plainly, studying the Duardin’s unusal behaviour more closely now. Grimli gave him a long look before bursting into a new fit of laughter.
“Norman!” The Duardin exclaimed, bellowing with uncontrollably glee, “Norman the Knight!”
“It’s Normanius,” He replied perplexed.
“Norman!” Grimli shrieked, his eyes streamed with tears and he swatted them away with his hand. “Wat abowt yoo?” He managed to slur between choking back his raucous laughter. The Lord Castellant was hesitant in his response, but soon reluctantly answer.
“Manfried Lumarius Sanctanior Luxor,” He said and this caused the Duardin to erupt into laughter so fierce that he tottered backwards and landed on the chamber floor in a heap of armour and firearms.
“Manfred!” Grimli squealed in delight, “Manfred and Norman!” Grimli rolled on the stone floor clutching his sides. But soon he fell quiet, and as his eyes lolled up in their sockets the Duardin lay still.
“Is he possessed?” The Knight Questor inquired. Felix stooped low to the Cogsmith’s still body and delicately placed his ear to the Duardin’s mouth. There was a moment’s pause, and suddenly a great rattle of the Cogsmith’s chest echoed around the chamber followed by a booming snore that choked its way from the Duardin’s thick throat. Felix recoiled in disgust at the fumes that escaped past Grimli’s lips, the sour and stinging tang of the liquor on his breath was unmistakable and Felix straightened leaving the sleeping Cogsmith where he lay.
“It appears that Master Ironhand has decided to make camp,” Felix said with a wry smile. Fido the Gryph Hound pattered around Grimli’s form before he leapt onto the Duardin’s gut that softly rose and fell and he too curled up to get some rest. “It appears that Fido has nominated you two to take the first watch,” Felix continued. The two Stormcast nodded compliantly. “Thank you.” Felix said softly and he couldn’t fight back a snicker as he added, “Norman and Manfred.”
Round: Two
Mission: Two - Ghyran
Battle Report:
First out of the blocks was the Company of Sigmar! As the team gathered together it was clear that once again it was going to be a scramble over who would get to use the 6's because most of the characters required a 6 to use the best of their abilities. The Sigmarites and their short legged friend made a very positive start this time, bursting into the second room and kicking ass! Felix shines the Light of Sigmar and kills 2 Blue Horrors and 3 Elementals whilst yelling “this is my house now!” After their retina's had recovered they crashed into the third room and butchered their way through 8 Grot Scuttlings. This team was flying around the Destiny Board! Further on, whilst duelling with some Acolytes, a group of ragged figures turned up, mid battle! They begged and pleaded to be let free so warily the Company of Sigmar obliged even though they turned on us last time. Norman cut their wrist ties, the ragged group turned out to be very thankful and they kindly donated a healing item! As our heroes rushed around it became clear that Grimli the Cogsmith's Guns were very good, being able to fire sometimes massive amounts of shots he was picking off enemy's here, there and everywhere!
And so the blood soaked heroes came to the final room! The Company of Sigmar looked as though they had finally met some worthy opponents. Tzaangors were tough and capable of causing a lot of wounds meaning that the Lords were having to spend a lot of valuable dice rolls just to stay alive. Eventually the Tzaangors were whittled down and finally defeated only for a bunch of Acolytes to turn up. Taking on the Ogroid Thaumaturge was surprisingly easy, the Sigmarites got pretty lucky when rolling to see how the Thaumaturge would react. In the end the final blow was struck by Manfred who blinded the Ogroid with his light and took the second piece of Amulet!
Result: Storming Success. Could anything stop the Company of Sigmar?
Outcome:
Manfred:
Treasure: Phoenix Heart.
Skills: None.
Amulet Pieces: Ghyran
Norman:
Treasure: Miser's Chalice and Warpstone bomb
Skills: Unstoppable and Living Fortress
Grimi:
Treasure: None.
Skills: Chosen and Battle Wrath
Amulet Pieces: Hysh
Felix:
Treasure: Sorcerous Shield, Amulet of Fury, Death Rune and the Eye of Phorus
Skills: Evasive and Eye of Fate
Current Score:
Company of Sigmar:
Rounds played: 2
Amulet pieces: 2
The Trinity and The Traitor:
Rounds played: 1
Amulet pieces: 1
Please comment below with your Silver Tower experiences, let us know how many rounds you gathered all 8 amulet pieces in and whether or not you defeated the Gaunt Summoner! Which characters are best to use in teams of four? Would you use a themed team or a bulked up team? We would love to hear from you! Happy Wargaming!
The Fragment of Ghyran.
Part 2:
Manfred.
The recognition was instant on both sides.
No sooner had Grimli settled his gaze on the hulking frame of the Ogroid that stood grandly in the centre of the chamber, had it settled its single eye back onto him. Its other eye was a bloodied and scarred mess, where the soft tissue of the eyeball used to be was a small iron pellet. The pellet was nestled into the gory wound that wept and ran with a bizarre purple liquid that could have been blood or puss. Grimli’s mouth softly dropped open as the Ogroid’s face twisted into a snarl so fierce and furious that it made the Duarin’s blood run cold. It seemed the blue beast had a score to settle with him.
The Cogsmith drew both pistols from their holsters just as the Ogroids mouth split open with a furious roar. It lowered its horned head and began its thunderous charge towards Grimli. The Duradin managed to loose only three shots before the beast was on him. It covered the chamber with a speed that belied its sheer bulk its cloven hooves smashing craters into the stone floor as it thundered towards him. All three of his shots landed home, exploding the flesh on the Ogroid’s chest and shoulders in a gory splashes of strange coloured ichor. But the beast would not be deterred, Grimli managed to dive from the path of its furious charge and land with an unceremonious clatter of armour. The Ogroid’s horns cut the air as it passed and as soon as it realised it had missed it’s quarry it wheeled around its hooves skidding and carving deep grooves into the chamber floor.
Grimli gathered himself from the floor and levelled his pistols at the Ogroids beastly snarled face. But before he could take the shot the beast swung it’s hefty club, the muscles and sinew in its arms and shoulders bulging against the flesh with the sheer force it swung it’s weapon. The club connected with the Duardin’s pistols and sent them flying from his grasp, the force with which they were wrenched from his hands sent a numbing buzz of pain down his forearms. He gave a grumble of discomfort and drew his Cogaxe free from its holder on his belt. He swung the axe before him with a bellow but the great beast merely swatted the blade away with a brutish, meaty hand.
Grimli was sent reeling backwards but regained his footing. The Ogroid wheeled a clenched fist backwards and loosed it at the stumbling Duardin. Grimli caught the blow square in the chest. The air was knocked from his hefty lungs in a great whoosh and as his stout frame clattered to the floor once more the Cogaxe skittered across the stone. He gave a feeble cry as the Ogroid loomed large over his sprawling form, it’s snarl slowly twisting into a gruesome smirk. Before Grimli could react it planted a huge hoof onto his breast plate. His armour gave a hideous crashing clatter under the weight and already the metal was beginning to buckle and dig into his chest that was still grasping for air.
Grimli squirmed beneath the hoof like a mouse trapped in the talons of some great bird. He fumbled for his Grudgeraker slung across his back but the rifle was trapped beneath the sheer weight. He heaved at it breathlessly as his armour began to wrench and crack in his ears, the metal creaking and groaning like ice on a frozen lake. The Duardin opened his mouth to call for aid, but his breathless lungs gave no sound to his voice and instead it came out as a wheezing choke. Grimli cast his eyes around the room desperately, as his breastplate now began to dig painfully into his flesh. Felix and Norman were cornered by a gang of vicious Tzaangors, their beaks clacking and snapping about the Knight Questor, tearing grooves into his flawless golden armour, as Norman shielded the Warpriest from their talons and blades. Grimli stretched out his free arm to them, his fingers waving helplessly in a last ditch call for help before his armour was sundered. They did not see the Duardin’s desperate pleas.
Manfred did however. The Lord Castellant was fending off two Tzaangors of his own, when he caught sight of the Duardin’s plight. With a furious bellow Manfred swung his Halberd before him, one of his quarry managed to evade the blow, the other however caught the full stretch of the blade in its avian neck. It shrieked as its throat opened like a gory grin. Placing both hands on the haft of his weapon he drove the blade upwards into the chest of the remaining Tzaangor. He thrust the blade deep into its breast, the metal scraping against the bone of its ribcage and with all of his might he hauled his quarry into the air. The creature wailed until the weight of its body slid down the bladed halberd carving a gory ravine from its heart to its chin. Manfred tossed the lifeless carcass aside and it landed in a bloodied pile with a gory squelch. The Lord Castellant broke into a run, and as he did a brilliant white light emanated from his lantern. It filled the room with a dazzling ethereal brilliance that caused all the Tzaangors to shriek hideously as they cowered from those probing heavenly shards of light.
The Ogroid gave a roar of fury as the blinding light seared its one remaining eye. It wheeled backwards lifting a hefty hand across its face giving Grimli a chance to wriggle free from the Orgoids grip. The Duradin scrambled away gasping roughly and heavily for breath as if he had been submerged in deep water. The Ogroid blinked away the light dazzling his eye and fixed his glower upon Manfred. But, he saw Grimli scurrying to safety and the deep hatred against the Duardin over shadowed the Ogroid’s better judgement to crush this new quarry that had blinded him. The Ogroid pursued the Duardin across the chamber floor and raised its hefty wooden staff high into the air. Grimli saw the blow hurtling towards him and all he could do was grab his head and hunker low into the ground, hoping his armour would hold. The staff landed across his back with a thunderous whack. His armour gave a loud crack and already he felt a great welt welling across his spine, but his armour held. He removed his hands from his face and saw the Ogroid raising the club again, its mighty chest heaving.
Grimli threw his head back into his hands a waited for the impact that would no doubt shatter his armour and pound him into a meaty pulp. Instead he heard a furious battle cry erupt from the far end of the chamber, the Duardin lifted his head to see the glorious sight of Manfred soaring through the air like a golden thunderbolt. Grimli had always thought the Lord Castellent had looked large and cumbersome, but he leapt magnificently through the air as if his armour was as light as clouds. The Ogroid, who had its back to the soaring golden wonder paused, and rolled its single eye in the direction of the attack. But it was too late. Manfred landed square between the beast’s shoulders, and as he did, he drove the top of his halberd deep into the beast’s chest. The Ogroid tumbled forward with the strength of the blow, and Grimli just managed to roll clumsily out of the way to evade the bulk of the beast landing on top of him. The Ogroid slammed into the stony floor, Manfred standing proudly on its back. The beast wailed angrily as Manfred buried the weapon deeper into its spine.
With a grimace the beast fixed its eye back on Grimli and shot out its hand to grab the Duardin. Its hand enclosed around his waist and the Ogroid began to squeeze with its last strength. Now however Grimli’s armour didn’t crack and threaten to sunder, instead it held against the beasts weakening grip. The beasts grimace turned back into a snarl that was laced with pure hatred and with its final ounces of strength it spat onto the floor in one last show of defiance.
Manfred answered the insult quickly as with a great roar he twisted his weapon with a gory wrench that showered his pure and brilliant armour with a dark navy gore. The Ogroid’s body jerked sharply, and the single eye shot open wide before it gently rolled upwards into its skull and the body fell still. Manfred stepped down quickly from the corpse, leaving the halberd standing bolt upright like a lightning rod. He tucked his arms under the Duardin’s shoulders and hauled him back to his feet. Grimli staggered on his weakened legs but managed to stand.
“Thank you,” He said, ignoring the slight sting in his pride that he had to be rescued. Manfred nodded softly and laid a hand on Grimli’s shaking shoulders. The Duardin felt the touch even through the thick plating of his armour, and the warmth that it radiated filled his body, his welts and bruises that had all been singing suddenly quieted, and his legs steadied.
“You are welcome, Master Ironhand,” The Lord Castellant soothed.
“Please, call me Grimli,” He replied. Through the golden helm Grimli saw those two soft pale blue eyes soften with a smile.
“Very well.” The Lord Castellant stooped low, and retrieved one of the Duardin pistols from the floor. He placed it into Grimli’s gruff hand and said with a faint laugh, “And you may call me Manfred.”
