The Farstrider Scout

The wind ripped through the mountains, cutting icily to the bone… He did not care. The cold burned like an ungodly fire, stealing the warmth from his veins… He still did not care. The snow stung his eyes, drifting up around his legs, getting deeper and shortening his strides by the minute… He did not care. His wife, his son, his hold, and his honor had been stolen from him in one swift stroke, and there was nothing Haegan could do would that ever bring him back, yet still, a small voice niggled in the back of his mind, whispering – You fool. You’ll die to the cold at this rate, and your vengeance will never come to pass. What kind of death is that for a Slayer? You should have risked the Undgrin road, at least then you would have chanced for an honorable death, not to mention a faster path to Karak Kadrin.

The cold thoughts stung like a knife, and slowly his course turned, taking him down from the mountains and into the sheltering trees, but it was a half blind, half frozen dwarf that stumbled into the forest, and the trees of the forest are no less forgiving of dwarfs than the cold rock of the mountain peaks. Sight stolen by the wind and the snow, it did not take long for Haegan to stumble, for dwarfs are not as surefooted in the forests as they are on the stone and rock of the places they call home. A low hanging branch rising swiftly out of the gloom of night ended all thoughts and brought a deeper dark as he lost consciousness.

Haegan did not know how long it was that he had slept, but what he did know was that he was not in the same place he had been in when the poorly placed branch had ended his thoughts. It was daylight now, but the forest canopy overhead blocked the sun, and so the misty glade he was in was a muted grey, deepening the shadows of the deeper wood around him. He sat up slowly and, placing his hands on the ground to steady himself, was surprised to find himself laying on a bed of soft green moss. His pack and water skin lay just out of arms reach, leaning up against a rock, but of his axes there was no sign.

Finding his mouth as dry as the southern deserts, he picked himself up and sat down on the rock by his pack, taking a swig from the skin and fishing a piece of waybread from the pack. His eyes wandered as he munched, slowly coming to his senses, taking in his surroundings, trying to determine where he was. The entire glade was covered in soft grass, only broken by a few patches of moss covered ground, such as the one he had awoken on, and an occasional rock here and there.

But it was the object at the center of the glade that interested him the most – A circular fountain stood there, illuminated by a few scant sunbeams that had managed to break through the canopy. The water danced down from tier to tier, catching the light and reflecting the golden beam, a soft quiet burble being the only sound that broke the tranquil silence of the glade.

Something stirred within the fountain, and Haegan frowned. What sorcery is this that brought me here to this place? The thought came unbidden as he searched for something to use as a weapon, though he had no doubt in his mind that whatever he found would do little against magic. He found none though, and turned back to the fountain in time to see a woman break the surface, water streaming from her body. Haegan watched, mouth agape, for she was truthfully the most beautiful of human women he had ever seen.
Her hair was a blond that caught the sunbeams, flowing like molten gold, gleaming pure and bright in its wetness, the light giving the illusion of a halo around her head. Brilliant blue eyes, clear as the sky, watched him with a dancing smile that was made complete by her soft red lips. She was garbed in a pure white gown that clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination, and her skin was almost as white, pale as the moon.

But it was the object she brought with her that truly caught his attention. Her hands rested on the pommel of a large twin bladed crescent axe, its head resting on the ground in the fashion of many a dwarfen statue. The sunbeams caught this too, reflecting off its finely honed edge. The haft was clearly formed of wutroth, a wood prized by the dwarfs who held stone and metal above all other crafting materials, its dark luster gleaming as it shed the water clinging to it. The blade itself was something to behold, a gromril alloy chased in bloodgold, with faintly glowing runes that exuded power.

The golden haired woman spoke then, her voice clear and musical, “Fear not, master Dwarf, for I come bearing tidings, and a gift.”

There’s a new game that was just put out by Infinity Ward called Call of Duty: Modern Warfare d20.  It’s really simple to play, all you need is this handy chart (see below), a 20 sided die and a 6 sided die.  You roll the d20 and the result determines what happens in the game, with the d6 filling in several minor variables.  Results are as follows:

On a roll of :

1:  Your lobby fills up and the game begins to load.  It stops on “Waiting for Server…”, and 15 seconds later, times out.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
2:  Your lobby fills up and the match starts to count down from 40 seconds.  After 40 seconds, it begins to choose a host, which takes 8 seconds.  A host is chosen, who then leaves.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
3:  The game lobby inexplicably closes.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
4:  IWNet is down, and you are unable to play any online matches.  Roll 1d6 to determine how many hours it will be before you can play.  As there is no advance warning or any sort of notification for this event, after the rolled number of hours has passed, roll 1d6 again.  After that final rolled number of hours has passed, reroll 1d20 and start again.
5:  You are able to get into a game, but the chosen host’s connection is poor.  Roll 1d6 to deterimine how many minutes of horrible lag you must endure, after which, reroll 1d6.  On a result of 1-3, the migration fails and you are kicked back to the lobby – Reroll 1d20 and start again.  On a result of 4-5, the migration succeeds, but the new host is no better – Reroll 1d6 to determine if you are the new host; 1-5, no, reroll 1d6 and start from the beginning of d20 result #5; 6, yes, go to d20 result #6.  On a result of 6, you’re able to play the match to completion without any further problems.
6:  You are the host, and your connection is poor.  Roll 1d6 and halve the result to determine how long other players must suffer through the horrible lag before the game chooses a new host, after which reroll 1d6.  On a result of 1-3, the migration fails and you are kicked back to the lobby – Reroll 1d20 and start again.  On a result of 4-5, the migration succeeds, but the new host is no better – start from the beginning of d20 result #5.  On a result of 6, you’re able to play the match to completion without any further problems.
7:  You are in a lobby with lower than the number of people needed to start the match countdown.  Roll 1d6 to determine how long you must wait for the required number of people, then reroll 1d20 and start again.
8:  The game lobby inexplicably closes.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
9:  You are able to get into a match, but one of the players is a hacker with the nuke killstreak reward.  Roll 1d6 and halve the result to determine how long it is before he sets it off.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
10:  The Steam Cloud is down, and you are unable to play any online matches.  Roll 1d6 to determine how many hours it will be before you can play.  Halve the result if you were smart enough to check the forum for maintenance warnings beforehand.  After the rolled number of hours has passed, reroll 1d20 and start again.
11:  You are able to get into a match, but there is a hacker on the opposing team.  Roll 1d20 to determine how many times you are killed by him before the match ends, then reroll 1d20 and start again.
12:  Unable to migrate host.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
13:  Your lobby is merged with another.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
14:  Your lobby fills up, and the match starts to count down from 40 seconds.  At 1d6 seconds, almost all the players dissapear.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
15:  You are able to get into a match, but one of the players has the nuke killstreak reward.  Roll 1d6 to determine the player’s temprament:  1 – The player is an enemy and uses it because their team is losing; 2 – The player is friendly and uses it because your team is loosing; 3 – The player is an enemy but no matter what, they never use it, or wait until the very end of the match to do so; 4 – The player is an enemy but uses it despite the fact that their team is winning; 5 – The player is friendly but uses it despite the fact that your team is winning; 6 – The player is friendly and no matter what, they never use it, or wait until the very end of the match to do so.  For all results except 3 and 6, roll 1d6 to determine how many minutes it will be before the nuke is set off.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
16:  The game lobby inexplicably closes.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
17:  Your lobby fills up, and then inexplicably tries to merge your full lobby with another.  Roll 1d6 to determine how long it does this until the game lobby closes.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
18:  Unable to connect to host.  Reroll 1d20 and start again.
19:  You join a game already in progress.  Roll 1d6 and halve the result to determine how many minutes are left in the match.  You are able to play for that long after which reroll 1d20 and start again.
20: You are able to play a full match to the end with no problems whatsoever.  Once the match is over, reroll 1d20 and start again for the next match.

I hope you all have fun playing this wonderful and entertaining addition to the Call of Duty series!

I always seem to have issues when it comes to completing projects I start, especially if they’re personal projects and have no deadline.  The Loot Bag Goblins have gone untouched for the greater part of this week due to an exercise at work…  And when I did have time to paint, I turned my attentions to a Ziggurat of Doom that I’m building as a scenario to play eventually.

The top two tiers of the Ziggurat are cut, etched, weathered, and primered, and I purchased more paint and a larger brush to tackle the final two tiers, one 18″ wide and one 24″ wide. Lots of work to do there.

But, yet again, the train of thought switches tracks and I ended up painting, and finishing, one of the models from the Battle for Skull Pass box – a captive Dwarf Slayer. Eyes are a little googly, but wouldn’t yours be after getting clobbered and tied up by a bunch of goblins? He’ll probably be pretty pissed when he comes to his senses, and I’m sure my technique with eyes will improve with time.

Not really related to the main army I’m trying to put together, but the Battle for Skull Pass kit came with a Goblin army as well, which included a large number of Night Goblin Spearmen. Ten of these (the box came with 30 or so, despite the fact that it says it only has 20), have small bags on their hips… Which have now become LOOT BAGS!!!

In the end, I plan on having 3 white loot bags, 3 green, 2 blue, 1 gold, and the 1 purple I’ve already painted.  Perfect for your public quest!

Well, 16 has moved to twenty, and I’ve dropped the champion from the initial group. I may still make him, since the concept I had for him was pretty cool (I think), but as far as the actual game goes, while viable, would be a detriment to the army, I think. So shields and heavy armor for all!

In the meantime, I’ve done some digging and come up with a tentative 2500 point army list, as follows:

• Kerik Silvershield, Dwarf Lord, with Gromril armor and shield
  • Kerik will serve as the army’s General
  • Contemplating adding an 10 man Ironbreaker unit as a guard, but this will push the points over 2500.  May have to prune something else off to allow for it, as I highly doubt Kerik would be one to stay in the background, and being alone would make him vulnerable.
• Handri Grimtome, Runesmith, with Master Rune of Spellbinding and Rune of Warding.
• 1 unit of 20 Dwarf Warriors with Heavy Armor and Shields, Musician, and Standard Bearer
• 1 unit of 20 Dwarf Warriors with Heavy Armor and Shields, Musician, and Standard Bearer
• 1 unit of 20 Dwarf Longbeards with Musician and Standard Bearer
• 1 unit of 20 Dwarf Miners with Musician, Standard Bearer, and Champion
  • Planning on adding a Steam Drill but this was not listed in the book I have
• 1 unit of 10 Dwarf Thunderers with Musician and Standard Bearer
• 1 unit of 10 Dwarf Quarrelers with Ranger Upgrade, Shields, Musician, Standard Bearer
• 1 unit of 20 Ironbreakers with Musician, Standard Bearer, led by Thane Daengar Stonehammer with Gromril Armor and Shield
• Grudge Thrower
• Cannon, led by Engineer Rukar Stonefist, with a Rune of Reloading
• Organ Gun
• Gyrocopter

Unfortunately the army book I’m using is outdated, so point values and units will have to be tweaked once I get the updated book, but fortunately birthday money will help with that.

I’d also considered adding Brexar Handrisson as a Dragonslayer, but for two things.  First, given the point value of the army, I can’t have more than 4 characters in the army, so it ended up being a choice between the Runesmith and the Dragonslayer, and the utility the Runesmith provides won out.  Secondly, Brexar, being a Slayer isn’t likely to stick around once Kerik settles in at his new post, and will probably strike out with Arvelen.

It has begun! If you listen closely enough, you can hear the ring of hammers on steel at the dwarf forges of Barak Varr, as slowly but surely, an army begins to form… Starting with 16 stalwart dwarf warriors, first up are the standard bearer, musician, and champion, and the unit’s assorted weaponry and shields!

After several hours of searching, Brexar finally found Arvelen down at the Royal Stables, grooming his Ellyrian steed. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you, and you’re down here tending to your… Food.” Brexar remarked with a toothy grin.

“Wind Dancer is not food, dwarf.” Arvelen bristled briefly, until he turned around and saw the young Slayer smiling. “But then, you wouldn’t know fine cuisine if it were sat in front of you, would you?” He shot back with a smirk.

“Haw! You got me there, elf.” Brexar guffawed.

“And what brings you in such an urgent search of me?” Arvelen turned back to the horse and continued grooming.

“Kerik’s leavin’. He just got word that their hold was overrun, and his father’s dead. He’s heading south to meet up with what’s left of his people and guide them to Barak Varr. Wants us to come with him.” Brexar leaned up against a post and pulled out a pipe before lighting it.

“Very well. My things are already packed. When do we leave.”

Brexar took a few puffs on the pipe, blowing smoke rings out into the air. “Tomorrow, before dawn. You know what this means, right?”

“Perhaps you should explain.” Arvelen turned and looked at the dwarf quizzically.

Brexar scowled. “The boy’s father’s dead. That makes him King. He won’t be joining us in battle again, not any time soon, and certainly not like it used to be. And when he does, he’ll have an army at his back.”

The warhawk sat, perched high above the ground, on a small outcropping of rock jutting out from the cliff face, surveying the land around it. It was a clear day, even for the ruined lands of Nagarythe, though dark storm clouds still threatened on the horizon, flickering with multicolored hues. Its eyes saw everything in that ruined landscape, catching every tiny movement, waiting for that moment, that perfect moment when it would spot something worth calling “prey” and swoop down upon it, tearing into it with beak and talons. It could take all day, but the hunter was patient. It would wait, unmoving as stone, until that perfect moment presented itself.

Far below it, perched in a sickly tree, sat another hunter. From his vantage point, Arvelen saw everything that the warhawk saw, caught every movement that the warhawk caught, but mostly had his attention focused on the warhawk itself. Unbeknownst to the warhawk, the Asur had given this particular one a name – Bloodtalon. While not nearly as large as its kin that resided in the forests of Athel Loren, it was no less majestic, a champion of its kind. A survivor of the wasteland.

In troubled times, Arvelen always sought refuge in the ruins of his homeland, coming out to the warhawk’s territory, to watch it hunt in solitude, and to think. As the war dragged on, Arvelen found himself visiting more and more, seeking solitude himself, answers from within…

A flicker of movement appeared in a patch of grass far out in the open, highlighted by the sunbeam that had appeared to kiss the ravaged landscape… And high above on the cliff face, Bloodtalon spread his wings and dove. There was a flurry of movement as the pray realized its position, but it was all too late. Moments later, the warhawk’s head could be seen above the grass, its beak dripping with fresh blood, ever the efficient hunter.

Oh, it’s on now!

2010.02.05 06:34:00

Victim: Dereth Renner
Corp: Geezer Gaming corp.
Alliance: NONE
Faction: NONE
Destroyed: Abaddon
System: Eglennaert
Security: 0.8
Damage Taken: 22219

Involved parties:

Name: takedoom (laid the final blow)
Security: 4.5
Corp: Goram Innovations
Alliance: NONE
Faction: NONE
Ship: Hyperion
Weapon: Electron Blaster Cannon II
Damage Done: 16249

Name: Snake Bliskan
Security: 3.9
Corp: Goram Innovations
Alliance: NONE
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ishkur
Weapon: Hobgoblin II
Damage Done: 5970

Destroyed items:

Adaptive Nano Plating II
Proton L, Qty: 65 (Cargo)
Heavy Capacitor Booster II
Large Capacitor Control Circuit I, Qty: 3
Multifrequency L, Qty: 5
Large Armor Repairer II
Reactor Control Unit II
Tachyon Modulated Energy Beam I, Qty: 2
Cap Booster 800, Qty: 5
Cap Recharger II, Qty: 2
Valkyrie I (Cargo)
Carbonized Lead L, Qty: 100 (Cargo)
1600mm Reinforced Crystalline Carbonide Plates I
Hammerhead I, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Nuclear L, Qty: 100 (Cargo)

Dropped items:

Damage Control II
Hobgoblin I (Cargo)
LiF Fueled I Booster Rockets
Multifrequency L, Qty: 3
Reactor Control Unit II
Tachyon Modulated Energy Beam I, Qty: 6
Cap Booster 800, Qty: 16 (Cargo)
Valkyrie I, Qty: 3 (Cargo)
1600mm Reinforced Crystalline Carbonide Plates I
Hammerhead I (Cargo)

Brexar pulled his axe from the chest of the last of the Sartosan pirates, and looked around the clearing as he yanked a cloak out from one of their number to clean the blade. No less than fifteen bodies lay scattered around in various forms of dismemberment, testament to the Slayer’s strength and combat prowess, yet his keen eye picked out several of their number that bore recent wounds not of his own making, perhaps only hours old.

It had probably been sheer bad luck on their part that he had run into them. It wasn’t as if he was trying to find trouble, at least not in them. The rumors of undead in the ruins of Organza had drawn him south from Altdorf, and these buffoons had merely gotten in his way. It didn’t help that they had challenged him as he passed on the road, despite the fact that they had been licking their wounds from another recent battle.

Whether they had won or lost that fight, he could not say, but there was a distinct lack of loot on their part, save for one thing… One of the few female members of the band was wearing a breastplate that was much cleaner than anything pirates normally owned, and looked very familiar. He slung his axe over his back and stomped over to the corpse. Miraculously, the armor itself was unscathed, the head of the pirate having been taken clean off.

Looking over the intricate skull and flame design on the chest, it slowly came to him – this had belonged to a Knight of the Blazing Sun, and female at that. Brexar wondered how many females were accepted into the order. Shrugging, he undid the clasps holding the armor on and hauled it off. Even if he couldn’t find the owner, who was likely dead, it might catch a decent price somewhere. Suddenly the sun caught the inside of the breastplate, illuminating an intricate engraving, and he peered closer to read it: “Giacinta Achille”

The armor dropped from his stunned fingers. He knew that name. He looked around rapidly, looking for anything else. No, this was the only piece… The lack of blood or damage meant that the woman might have lived… He walked around, piecing clues together, trying to think over the sounds of the birds, the trees, and the river…

The river! Gathering up the armor, he started moving towards the river, studying the ground intently. While he would never be as good a tracker as Arvelen, at least the elf had been able to teach him a little of the art. It became clear the direction the dance had taken the pirates – it ended at the river, and they had not bothered to cross. Probably because they couldn’t swim, he mused.

He stood there for a moment, studying the bank and the flowing river, until a gleam caught his eye. There, at the bottom of the river, gleamed yet another piece of armor. Divesting himself of his axe and the breastplate, he dove in after it, only to spot other pieces on his way down. By the time he had finished, he had uncovered almost a full suit of plate, stacked on the shore with his axe, but no body.

Deciding the armor would have to stay put, he did his best to conceal it on the bank of the river, then began to swim across to the other side, where he began his search anew. It didn’t take long to find footprints in the soft ground of the river bank, leading towards the forest. The sun was beginning to set, and so he began to hurry, knowing that despite his excellent night vision, it would be difficult to track Giacinta in the forest once night fell.

He began to hurry even faster when he spotted blood spattered here and there, brushed off on leaves and branches, and mixed in with the footprints on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye though, he spotted the faint gleam of fire deeper in. Perhaps it was her? Or someone else who had spotted her? Ignoring the tracks now, he forged towards it, bursting into the small clearing.

There before him was Giacinta, sitting on a log, a fire burning low. She turned to him slowly, clearly confused. Brexar looked at her quizzically, “Giacinta?”

“W… Wh… What?” Stammered the young woman, clearly bewildered. “Who are you?”

“I’m Brexar… You don’t remember me?” Brexar slowly eased his axe to the ground and took a few steps forward. Giacinta shied away, and he reached out with both hands, palms up. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to see if you’re wounded.”

She nodded, “My… head hurts… And I feel dizzy. And no, I don’t know you at all.”

Brexar lowered his hands and took a few more steps forward, examining her closely. She appeared mostly unscathed, save for a nasty looking head wound that was caked in dried blood, the hair matted across it. “You’d been hit in the head… Did you sleep at all?”

“What? Aye, I think so…”

“Right. Can you carry your sword? Walk? I can bandage you up a bit for now, but we should probably get you to Conserta in the morning, see if they have a healer. In the meantime I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Uh… All right?” Giacinta seemed to relax slightly.

“Good.” Brexar moved and sat down on the opposite side of the fire. “First, your name is Giacinta Achille, and, as I said, my name’s Brexar, and I’m a Slayer….”