Mordheim-A story of smugglers

Mordheim-A story of smugglers

Postby MoodyGit » Sat Jul 04, 2015 5:01 pm

Scenario One - A deal is struck.

Outside the Gods were making themselves felt. It was a storm of epic proportions as the wind and rain was trying its hardest to enter through the walls and roof. The pitch black night was cruelly lit by eye aching flashes of brilliant white.

Inside the smoky bar room everyone’s eyes were on the three cloaked travellers sat at the boards. The onlookers held their collective breaths as the bidding was reaching fever pitch, it was as if losing the bid was more important than the item itself.

Sat on the table between the hooded man’s arms was a large piece of jet black stone flecked with glowing green lines which intensified with the lightning from outside. This was what they were after, this was why they travelled to this desolate place, and this was why they answered their personal invites, this and the promise of more to come.
Owning the piece was a start but the knowledge of where it came from was much more important and finally as one shook her head in defeat everyone leaned forward in expectation. The owner of the stone sat straighter, slowly lifted his hood and started laughing quietly. ‘Well wasn’t that fun ladies, but don’t worry you can find this in Mordheim’. With that he grabbed the stone and leapt up, followed by the brightest light imaginable.

The silence was shocking; the storm had disappeared as suddenly as their so called host.

Greetings Bavragor; welcome to The Turks Head, a waypoint on the ‘great’ road between Wurtbad and Mordheim. It seems this smuggling run could be more beneficial than you first thought. You know Tungdil would moan if he knew you had decided to stop for a couple on the way back to camp. Especially as the sack of unrefined gold ore is still in the hay cart outside where anyone could get their hands on it, but it’s not often you see Darkstone, let alone that sort of quantity and it always fetches good gold on certain markets. You need to get this information out to the lads as soon as you can. A visit to Mordheim is on the cards! But don’t forget your original stash!
Terrain; The scenario is based in a Roadside Tavern consisting of a yard, a stable block, a tap room, a barrel store and two guest rooms. The yard gate is the only exit as all doors and windows are locked and barred due to the taverns location.
Warbands; You are sat at the bar end of the long table facing the door.
Starting the game; Each player rolls a D6. The highest has the first turn and order of play proceeds clockwise around the table from there.
Ending the game; The game ends when the GM has witnessed half of the objectives being fulfilled.
Your objective is to get off of the board.
Experience; You will earn between zero and three victory points based on success in completing your objective.

Name M WS BS S T W I A Ld Sv Spec.
Bavragor - 3 4 3 3 4 1 2 1 9 6 Hard to kill, hard head, armour, hate Orcs and Goblins, grudgebearers, incomparable miners
Light armour, dwarf axe
'Jenkins, chap with wings there...five rounds rapid.' - The Brigadier.
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MoodyGit
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Re: Mordheim-A story of smugglers

Postby Dave » Tue Jul 14, 2015 12:13 am

Bavragor had seen magic once before, many years ago, but few choose to use it in these times of persecution and even fewer still will brazenly commit such feats in public.

The humans were impressed by the show and Bavragor could see the lust for the darkstone in their eyes. There would be plenty for all in the city of Mordheim but the humans are always too short sighted, and greedy, to see such things and so Bavragor knew that getting out of this human tavern, with its terrible ale*, in one piece would take some head bashing.

With a final swig of his ale (it was bad but like all ales not worthy of waste) Bavragor leapt to his feet and made for the door. Luckily he had only worn his light armour and added to the fact he was quick, indeed the fastest of his clan, he made it to the door before the other patrons.

Bavragor pushed the door but found only resistance, he had seen the large fellow leave seconds after the wizard had vanished and could hear the oaf's grunting on the other side of the door as he pushed against it. The fool, he thinks he can out muscle a Dwarf.

Suddenly a sharp pain coursed up his spine, the force of the blow swung him around and as he fell to the floor he caught a glimpse of the wry smile on the human female's face, a witch no doubt and one of some power it would seem.

After a moment on the floor Bavragor was back on his feet, it would take more than a human's feeble magic to get the better of him. He contemplated his options for a moment and despite the utter feebleness of his attacker felt it prudent to leave, and besides the donkey needed feeding and he only had his light armour on.....

With one almighty push, which required no help from anyone but especially not from that feeble looking milk drinking Sigmar worshiper, the door fell open and the oaf on the other side fell to the floor. Bavragor stepped over the prone body and made his way to his donkey and cart. By this time the carnage of the tavern had spilled out into the courtyard, it had escalated quickly and death would surely come to those not wise enough to withdraw from the fray.

With his course of action decided Bavragor hooked the donkey to the cart and led him across the courtyard and into the dark night to meet up with his companions. Tungdil would be eager to hear his report and to begin their journey to Mordheim as soon as possible for Tungdil would not be able to resist the lure of the Darkstone and the riches it will bring.

*Bavragor had hoped to add The Turks Head to his travel guide book (working title: Ales of the Old World) for dwarfs seeking quality Ales when undertaking journeys through the old world. It is not always possible to take enough Dwarven refreshment to last the entirety of the longer journeys required of the trade caravans and such a guide would prove useful when the barrels run dry. Although human brewing techniques are rudimentary at best they are capable of producing some flavours of note due to their vast array of crop types suitable for fermentation. Unfortunately he had not visited any taverns worthy of inclusion during his current visit to the realms of men and was beginning to think that his book would never be finished, after all a mere 108 acceptable drinking establishments does not a book make and with the pending journey to Mordheim who knows when he would next have time to sup an ale.
The Guard dies but it does not surrender
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Re: Mordheim-A story of smugglers

Postby MoodyGit » Tue Jul 14, 2015 6:41 am

3 victory points
'Jenkins, chap with wings there...five rounds rapid.' - The Brigadier.
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