Beastmen of the Savage Lands encounter goblin mushroom farmers

The bray shaman clambered to the crest if the mound to survey the scene below. His war party had found the grave site just after dawn and had eagerly set to excavating and consuming the long forgotten corpses. The work had been hard going as they had to clear the brightly coloured fungus that seemed to thrive in the local area.

With the sun setting, the shaman had tasked the ungor with collecting fire wood so they might build a pyre to praise the gods for the feast that their visions had guided him to. As the last light faded a commotion to the west caught his attention. A teeming mass of what appeared to be bouncing mouths was bounding towards them. The dragon ogors were the first first of his warriors to respond to this new threat, pushing to the north to confront the nearest enemy group. The initial engagement was brief as a herd of bestigor encircled the enemy battling the dragon ogors.

Then the main battle lines clashed. Bullgors held the centre and met the bulk of the enemy horde with support from more bestigor and a towering ghorgon. The battle seemed to be going well until a raving grot riding a pair of chained-together bouncing beasts. The bounding mass smashed through the bullgor lines before swinging to the north and breaking the dragon ogors, all the while the rider jabbering incessantly about mushrooms.

As grot heavy cavalry barrelled into the remaining beasts of his herd the shaman fled under covering fire from the newly returned ungor. He had to worn the Carrion Lord of this new threat to the Barrowgorge Fray's dominance in the region.

Seraphon defeat the followers of Tzeentch

To the honoured council of Barak Haraz,

It is my greatest pleasure as your expedition commander to bring news to you from the Corexis Isles. Since landing at this place some three years ago, we have as yet been unable to engage in any great exploration of the realm, as most of our party have been engaged in construction of our main base. Since arriving, our alliance with the humans and Seraphon has been in the main beneficial for our purposes. The humans seem a little obsessed with the "liberation" of a place they used to call home - Kemara I think they said, but other than that they have in the main stuck to creating a home for themselves in the south west of these islands.

Riches predicted by our initial investigation have not yet borne fruit, and I must admit to becoming frustrated at the tardiness of those under my command with regard to beginning the exploration by our sky fleets. Too slow I say, and I hope to remedy this matter in the near future.

The islands themselves are not uninhabited. To the east the so-called "Blood Coast Alliance", which seems to include the Sylvaneth and their Idoneth kin, have settled the Ahil region, founding Aontroim. Further north things are more barbaric. There is a realm which harbours the worst of the forces of death - nighthaunt and flesh-eaters have been reported, while even further north lies a realm of beasts, ratmen, grots and other uncivilised beings. Whether the latter is one realm, two, or just a land of warring tribes is unknown, as is whether there are orderly folk or men to potentially trade with. This is what we seek! That and of course Aether Gold seams, which seem lacking thus far.

A further complication is the forces of the thrice accursed Master of Fates... The forces of chaos just recently laid waste to the northern settlements of our newly settled realm, but were thrown back by an impressive display by the aforementioned Seraphon. 

I shall continue to make preparations for the further exploration of this Realm, in order to expand our riches, find new skyways and hopefully in time find a way to increase our influence in the city state of Iris, that hub of commerce which links the Realms.  

Yours,

Gromrik Aetherson

Admiral of the Arkanaut Fleet of Barak Haraz

Permenia Trade Expedition

Idoneth Deepkin Ambush the coach of Lorvren

Seeking to bolster the might of her forces Alarielle had secured the support of the Carpathian Republic. Unlike others of their kind this enclave of Idoneth Deepkin were unusually open and outward looking and could be persuaded to take an interest in her problems... for a price. The Carpathians cared little for the Everqueen's aims, only for the potency of her realmstone and the quantity of the souls they could harvest. Whilst the phalanx's of Carpathia's Hollow Legions could be bought, the might of its Akhelian Knights could merely be rented for a time.

As the bulk of Carpathia's expeditionary forces set up their base camp in the shallow waters off Permenia's Blood Coast mobile formations rode the billowing currents of the ethersea inland, scouting the lay of the land and seeking to locate any rivals that would challenge Alarielle for dominance. One such raiding force under the choleric Prince Deimos pushed deep into the Tatterspine Hills at the centre of the island and located a host of spectres escorting a dark coach at speed through the rocky and winding passes leading into the mountainous island interior.

Believing his own host more than a match Prince Deimos set an ambush for the undead column. Namarti Thralls leapt from their magical concealment as the coach swung wide of its escort at a sharp bend in the pass and Carpathia's knights rode the surging ethersea currents into the heart of the ghostly legion. The coach was utterly destroyed, its ectoplasmic form broken and scattered, but the prince had acted rashly and was unprepared for the fury of the undead's retaliation.

As the Idoneth fought for their lives Deimos was torn down from his mount and badly wounded, only saved from death by the bravery of his knights and the unthinking loyalty of his thralls who had been indoctrinated from birth to serve without question or regret until their inevitable death. The Carpathian's martial prowess barely won out and the surviving spectres withdrew, allowing the Akhelian's to bear their prince's wounded body back to the blood coast and report their encounter to Alarielle.

Goblins defeated by Forces of Death

Doom and Gloom vs. CFD @2000 - 6-4 to CFD

It all happened so fast.

The forest was dark and damp – ideal conditions for the party of gitz delving into its heart. Lunar visions had guided Grottskrag to this place of power, though all he had seen of the promised Seraphon ruins were a few scattered blocks of granite and pale marble littering the otherwise verdant foliage.

The monstrous mangler squig snarled as a flock of birds shot up to the sky. They were expecting trouble, guards perhaps or maybe some of those infamous Seraphon traps which apparently populated their ancient temples. As such, the military arm of their little expedition was substantial.

As they soon realised, not substantial enough. 

Out from the bushes, with neither sound nor warning burst forth a gathering of spectres, more and more entering the field of vision as they glided closer. Behind them, another throng of dead, veiled women then, to the left, a mess of robes – visibly wet – thrashing about with longswords in their grasp.

Da Squig Whisperar bounded up as a swarm of Spirit Hosts lunged at him, their claws repelled by his cloak. A blessing from Ulgu, the shifting garment met and matched every strike of the ghosts, parrying blows where it could and changing the silhouette of the goblin in such a way that none of the blows connected with his body. Despite his tenacity, wails resounded around the battlefield – at first those of the veiled women but soon goblin voices joined the shrieking cacophony as they were butchered where they stood, souls rent from their diminutive bodies.

The loonboss was doing all he could, slashing at ghosts left and right. A sudden help, a mighty Arachnarok spider burst into reality and joined the fray. The Gobbapalooza tore at some of the drenched ghasts, with Grottskrag delivering the finishing blows – ethereal burst of energy marking the departure of another spectre. More and more of the dead fell, they almost had it, they had almost won!

The thunder of hooves and screech of iron wheels snuffed out the glimmer of hope forming in the gitz eyes. 

A dark, heavy coach shot past the lines of ghosts. It was galloping straight for the loonboss. Spikes lined its wheels and sides and as it crashed into the mangler squig the beast roared in pain. The gleaming scythe of the grim driver started twirling and limbs and blood splattered the forest floor. Da Squig Whisperar screeched one last, pitiful cry then he too was no more. Picking up speed again, the infernal casket rode down a gathering of gitz, a shaman and then…then it was over. 

The gitz fled, their morale broken, scampering away from the frightful apparitions.

A wounded Grottskrag swore bitter vengeance before he passed out, his last sight of the abyss in the eyes of the coach driver watching him, calling out.

Blood Coast Alliance face Death

Refreshed from her endeavours during the crumbling of Quemara, Alarielle was set to reconfirm her position as the ultimate leader in the fight against evil. Using all of  her Ghyrani might, aided by hosts of treelord ancients and branchwraiths, she created a steadfast root upon the realm of Permenia from which she's could set about the reconstruction on her living empire. 

It was not long before the expanding palisades of flora caught the attention of the legions of nighthaunt. Their ectoplasmic forms drew an unsettling veil over the now lush plains, their deathly energy bringing a swift halt to the growth of any oaken forts or briarholds. The trees now echoed with the spirit song. A call for aid, a warcry, none would take this blessed land.

The most ancient of the branchwraiths, Alarielle's seneschal, the Lady of Vines brought forth an arcane artifact that could undoubtedly change the course of this battle. The acorn of the ages. Followed by secret prayers and incantations from the age of myth, it was planted in the centre of the battlefield before the undead legions could predict its immense power. Almost instantly the ground began to quake with the force of a thousand horsemen. The broad roots of eldertrees began to burst from the earth and formed a dense thicket around the gnarled sorceress and her hosts of dryads, creating a barrier between the spectral forces and the thriving groves. What the sylvaneth lacked in brute force they made up for in vigour.

The forces of death seemed to fade into the mist, however, the nighthaunt are not so easily broken. Their general was setting up the ultimate ambush. Hordes of spirit hosts, black coaches and chainrasps materialized behind the wall of trees and hit the sylvaneth where it would make the most impact, the everqueen herself. Not expecting the attack, Alarielle became overwhelmed and fled back to the safety of the coast, injured and afraid leaving her forest folk to deal with the undead. Yet, these were no ordinary wood nymphs, they were winterleaf dryads. Hardened by harsh winters, their bark tough and numbers immense. The phantoms could not move such forces, their legs becoming one with the earth and even more blessed by the presence of a frostheart please, an omen of good will and victory from the phoenix temple. The battle was won, no force could shift the sylvaneth from their new home.

The First Disagreement

Treek was livid. Livid at the prospect of the great clan stooping so low as to side with the small green man-things. The master arch warlock of the Clan Soulburner had made this pitiful deal on the premise of ultimate corruption and more importantly to him the crystals he so desired.

‘Stupid-fool that warlock is. Treek should lead the clan to greatness yes-yes’. Treek muttered under his breath. He still had his own loyal cohort at least. Well, as loyal as any average Skaven can be. He had no doubt many of his underlings were plotting to stab him in the back, but all that mattered now was that there was at least a cohort of ratmen that lumbered forward in front of him. He would test the green man-things. By attacking them and ultimately beating them, he’d show his dominance to the filthy mushroom covered cave goblins. And this display would be his first step of many to overthrow the fool that lead the clan. His scouts had told him of a group of goblins and their squigs that were raiding an abandoned village. There he would catch them by surprise.

The grots were coming out of the ruined houses, the occupants having gone long ago, carrying sacks filled with all and any items they could find. Metal scrap, trinkets, potions. Anything that looked to have inherent value when the squigs became alert at something. A whisper of a sound at first, which quickly grew into a clatter of steel. Lining the entrance to the canyon that the village was contained in, a wall of clanrats appeared. An armour clad ratman then clambered onto a rock, surveying the battle before drawing his battle-scarred shortsword and levelling it at the grots.

‘Rat filth, charge them! Run them down, take their shines yes-yes!’ And at that command the wall of ratmen charged. Swords pointed forward, maces swinging recklessly and shields raised. The squigs were first to react to this threat, charging headlong in bounding leaps towards the assailants. The air was filled with the sound of chittering rats and the barking and gnashing jaws of the squigs as the two sides met outside the ruined village. The squigs easily tore through the ranks of the clanrats unfortunate enough to be standing at the front, only to be met with many more blades and bludgeons from the clanrats behind them. The squigs kept coming but so did the tide of rats. The situation was a clear stalemate. Even as grots started to fall victim to the treachery of Treek, the clanrats were dying in droves. This didn’t anger Treek. Instead, Treek felt bored more than anything. He wanted to show his supremacy and lack of disregard for the agreement made between Grot and Rat, and this had now been achieved. Not wanting to stay any longer for risk of stray squig bounding over and trying to eat him, Treek quickly took his leave. He abandoned his underlings to their fate. This did not matter to him though, as there are always more rats for him to trick or bully into joining him. There are always more.

Welcome to the Permenia AoS Campaign

Welcome to the Sheffield University AoS campaign blog! This campaign is brand new and is primarily a narrative campaign that anyone can get involved in.

The Campaign is a "turn up and play" campaign, although from time to time there are Campaign Days and other games as part of the fun,

Any questions - find Iwo at Wargames on Saturdays in the union!