Monday, 11 February 2013

The Storm of Chaos - Eye of the Storm

Greetings traveller, and welcome to part one of the follow up to my posts on Worldwide Campaigns.

I promised that I would be posting the sections of background that were written by me and other contributors to be used as a jumping off point for playing games of Warhammer after the Seige of Middenheim, which formed the climax of the Storm of Chaos Campaign. This will possibly, at some point, if I ever get round to it, form the nucleus of a Source Book for playing in that setting. Rather than trying to fix some of the glaring mis-steps that were written into the 'official' conclusions to try and fix the various story problems that manifest themselves at the end of the campaign, I have tried to put a twist on them where necessary instead, to give gamers something that we can work with that allows all factions involved to move forward with purpose.

Your comments are welcome, so let me know what you think. I'll start you off with the first few factions:

Storm of Chaos – The Eye of the Storm

The condition and disposition of the various factions following the lifting of the siege of Middenheim

The Orcs of Gimgor Ironhide

Grimgor Ironhide, mightiest Orc Warlord of the age, was seething with rage. Of every promise he ever heard roared across a battlefield, every challenge laid down by the warmongering cries of a mighty champion, every upstart proclaiming himself the doom of all other warriors, Archaon, the supposed Lord of the End Times, top Chaos boy, had been the biggest disappointment.

By the time Grimgor and his Immortulz had hacked their way to the heart of the mighty battle of Middenheim, hewing their way through screaming Flagellants and spiky Chaos boys, their leader was already battered and bruised after a fight with two other humies, but he’d beaten them both, but the fight he offered Grimgor was utterly disheartening.

How did such a weakling ever become the leader of such a vast horde of warriors? Surely the quality of the northern tribes of men must be pretty low for this man to rise so high? Having laid the Everchosen low with a mighty ‘edbut and the flat of Gitsnik’s heavy blade, Grimgor turned his army around and withdrew from this vexing waste of his time. Muttering to himself as his boys hacked and slashed their way clear of the fighting, Grimgor wracked his Orcish brain for the answer to his lifelong question. Where would he ever find a challenge worthy of his blade? Where could he go to find the greatest fighters he could possibly face?

As he finished battering a shrieking Flagellant into the mud with a length of wood he didn’t remember picking up, the spiky end of it caught his gaze. It had human words scratched on it. Wiping away the Flagellants blood he struggled to make out the name on what he now saw was a signpost....Alt-dorf? That was the human boys big city to the south. If they’d managed to beat the Chaos boys here, then the Empire must have even better fighters than the Chaos lot, and they would muster every blade to defend their big important city. Grimgor extended his muscled green arm, and with a roar and the pointing of a dirty claw, turned his army south...

The Skaven

The Council Chamber was in complete uproar. Fur stood on end, and tails swished agitatedly. The Council endorsed plan to utilise Clan Skyre’s super weapon, the lauded ‘Doom Hemisphere’, had failed to annihilate the mountain and the fortified human warren that sat atop it. Instead it had only partially exploded, warping and fusing the tunnels beneath the great rock into labyrinthine new forms. The device itself was now lost somewhere within the newly created maze, though even now, gutter runners of Clan Eshin had been despatched to try and find the device.

The shrieks of treachery and sabotage that had been levelled at Clan Skyre themselves had been defeaning, and it had almost come to bloodshed on several occasions, until the Council had restored order, the Storm Vermin guards brandishing their blades menacingly until the clamour abated. The fact remained that armies of many thousands of Skaven warriors were in place to attack. Beasts of every description had been herded to the underways beneath the city the humans called Middenheim in their hundreds. If they did not attack now, then the vast resources expended gathering so many Skaven and so much support into a single place would be wasted as all sense of order and purpose gave way to infighting and the Councils meticulously laid plans dissolved into nothing. The human Empire above was in turmoil, now was the Skaven’s time. This city would have to be taken the old fashioned way, by sneaking up on the humans from beneath and taking them by suprise. The order would be given. They would attack...

Bretonnia

After battling alongside their human and Dwarf allies in the defence of the Empire from the vast hordes of Archaon, and distinguishing themselves at the Siege of Middenheim, the Knights of Bretonnia are in high spirits, jubilant in their hard won glory, though little of that spirit seems to be present in the peasantry who marched to the Empire’s aid in the wake of their noble masters. They appear as downtrodden and dishevelled as ever. Now that the siege has been lifted and the forces of Archaon forced into retreat, the Knights of Bretonnia seek further challenges to test their metal against.

The chasing down of bandits and the broken remnants of the enemy force beneath their interest, the Bretonnians turn their thoughts instead to the newly emerged threat from Sylvania. Many are the tales of that blighted realm that have found their way to Bretonnian tap rooms over the centuries, and such a challenge as the notorious line of the von Carsteins would indeed be a test worthy of the gallant elite of fair Bretonnia. It is also rumoured that a vast army of Ogres marches from the east, from beyond the Worlds Edge Mountains, and an entire army of such monsters is too much for any true knight of Bretonnia to resist. And so, word has spread amongst the legions of young knights eager to prove themselves in their eyes of both their piers and the Lady of the Lake. Never before will the dank and decrepit province of Sylvania have seen such a muster of splendour as the army of Knights marches to finally free the people of that benighted realm from the curse of the Vampire Counts...

Thanks for reading...