Bay 12 Games Forum

Probably be another 6 hours or so until I can get things together, so anyone else hoping to join has a bit of time. Speaking of which, still only 5 signups.

Also fair warning, if all I've got to go on are the musings of Ozarck, Baldman, and myself, our main wizard is probably going to end up as a holographic catgirl.

It would certainly be a unique Archmage of the entire universe :v

Just say no to exploring the ruins, land another group, say no...until you're ready.

Oh, thank you

Bah, everyone knows 1d4wiki is the best wiki on Warhamster. Lexicanum takes itself too seriously and taking itself seriously is where Grimhammer 40k went wrong to begin with.

To some people sure, but to others (people like me) taking it seriously makes it a much more enjoyable experience.

I have 23 guys onboard a frigate several of whom are from different companies/groups. Is there a way to unload them all at once so that I can have all of them take part in searching an ancient ruin? So far I can only drop them on the planet from the company screen which leaves quite a few of them out of the fight if I do that :\

It doesn't take long for your men to prepare to move out, many of them were ready even before the messenger had come to deliver the news of Lord Vandir's dead diplomat earlier that night. You quickly give the men their orders along the way, and you soon find yourself tagging along with the main assault as the ranged soldiers of your fighting force break off to the east to prepare for their ambush in the battle to come. You find yourself towards the middle of the formation with the knight you'd ordered to follow you at your side, from what you were told the man's name is Hawthorne and he's one of the few knight's who survived the disastrous war in the Lands of Snow.

Its not long before the mine comes into hill, you almost wouldn't recognize it if it wasn't for the faint light of fires pouring out between the hills and the hunched figures of sentries on the crest of all three. Stopping before you draw to close a knight beckons six of the footmen forward, after a short while of whispering and barely refrained argument the six men split up into three teams of two and begin to creep towards the hill low against the ground. You watch almost entranced as the soldiers move towards the sentries at a snail's pace, moving from bush to bush and shadow to shadow the six warriors are like ghosts. One by one the sentries topple as your foot soldiers cut them down leaving the enemy entirely unaware of your presence, with a smile on your face you order the forces forward.

If a defender had been watching they would've seen fifteen shadowy figures pour out of the trees, but the Falmir watch had been reduced to corpses that were left to rot on the hillside as your army flowed up the hills. Halting the advance just short of the crest you waved one soldier over, and order him to signal the your crossbowmen and archers to rain fire on the camp before turning back to peek over the hill. Down below in the little valley that the hill surrounded a half dozen tents sit arrayed around a dozen campfires where a large gathering of troops sit chatting as a few sentries patrol along the earthworks.

As you watch the sentries all jerk to a stop as bolts come out of the shadows and fill them like pincushions followed swiftly by two arrows that fly well past their targets and into the heart of the camp hitting no one. With screams of pain coming from the earthworks the Falmir are quick to react taking up weapons and charging towards the perimeter which gives you and your men just the time you need. Pushing yourself up and taking your mace in hand you start charging down the hill with Hawthorne close behind you, a fireball explodes in the camp as you call upon the closest target smashing their skull open with your hammer.

Despite the surprise of the assault your enemy remains fairly unshaken, as you kill another bowman you look to your men in time to see an organized counterattack come crashing into them feeling a few of your men. With the battle at its peak you begin to yell praises to the Banigar, and rail off passages of the Holy Texts of the heroes of old who had dedicated their fighting spirit to the true pantheon. Your prayers and passages seem to give the men heart, and the sudden counterattack begins to get pushed aside as your men reorganize themselves to properly fight the dozen or so zealous Falmir.

Before you can move to reinforce your Disciples a tent to your right collapses as a two figures in black, and crimson come charging at you with swords raised high above their heads. Thoughts race through your head as you are sure your death has arrived only to be shattered as Hawthorne screams,

"DEATH TO THE FALMIR, DEATH TO THE FALSE GODS!"

With that one of the two knights disappears as your guardian throws himself into the giant figure sending them tumbling back into the tents. Even with the odds now evened the knight is still a formidable opponent, swinging forward you knock the sword aside and bash the knight's chestplate as you try to circle around him. However the knight is undeniably fast even in full-plate, and ass you go to bash in the man's skull you feel a shield slam into your ribs and you're sent sprawling onto the ground as a sudden intense pain fills your side. You struggle to push yourself up as the knight closes, as you kneel trying to fight through the pain the armored figure laughs,

"Ha, where are your gods now false priest? The Banigar do not offer their power to you here do they while our Gods will soon be again, and then the Falmir shall burn across the world like a plague cleansing the dead religions, and pantheons of dust and ash. Your Baniga.."

Any words he may have are cut off as a sudden strength flows through you, with an almost beast like roar you take the mace in both hands and leap up swinging into the bottom of the knight's helmet with such force that you feel something in your wrist give way. You collapse backwards onto the ground unable to move as the knight topples over, the front of his helmet bashed in and his head bent at an angle that doesn't seem possible. Strangely the sounds of battle have all, but stopped, the only things you can hear are a fire roaring and the sound of something being stabbed.

Turning your head you see Hawthorne kneeling over the bloodied corpse of the other knight with a broken sword in his hand repeatedly stabbing the knight's corpse. Grimacing you simple lay back for a second trying to get your thoughts in order, this battle would have probably not ended well ...

DigitalHellhound: In that situation, if you wanted to you could have used full-auto burst and half action aim. Semi-Auto Burst will give you a -0 to BS but will net you a hit for every two degree of success you have on the roll, with a close range bonus you should still manage a +10 to BS with the bonus from shooting a hulking target you should have a +30 to BS that route. Unless you manage to kill the Ogryn now that is still a fairly valid plan :v


EDIT: Minor change since I was using Full-Auto burst in place of Semi-Auto

Name: Barig the Iron Lord
Specialty: Earth Magic with some specialization in the Manipulation of Iron
Tribe: The Ironclad Mountain Clan - Dwarves
Physical Description: Four foot tall with fiery red hair, and beard. The beard is well groomed and comes down to cover Barig's barrel like chest. He can generally be found wearing a red robe that's been reinforced with iron plates.
Mental Description: Barig is focused individual who finds more interest in the ground, and the beings that dwell there than those that live above ground. He is easily riled, but slow to truly anger. He heavily dislikes betrayal, and holds grudges until revenge has been wrought upon those who've crossed him. In most situations however he is jolly, and aims for the prosperous growth of both magic and those under his charge. He is quick to make friends, but gives trust to those who've earned only.
Personal History: Barig was born into the Ironclad Mountain Clan, a tribe of dwarves who shared the Ironstone Mountains with several other 'lesser' tribes and lived a life filled with constant war as his brethren sought to conquer the 'lesser' tribes and claim the Ironstone Mountains for themselves. While Barig studied the sacred arts of Earth Magic, and began to experiment with his own magic his tribe fought a losing war as the so called lesser tribes banned together and began to push the Ironclad Mountain Clan from their homes. When word came that a great wizard was setting out for a new world Barig went to his tribe, and told them of the possibility of new lands, of new mountains to claim and fortresses to forge in a world that had been unclaimed by the tribes they warred with. Some listened to Barig and found hope in this new world, but for as many as agreed to go on this grand journey ten others vowed they would stay, that they would die on these mountains rather than flee from 'lesser' clans. And so Barig led those who would follow to a new world, to a new home.

Tribe Description: The Ironclad Mountain Clan were a loose nation of dwarves sharing the same ancestry that had claimed the Ironstone Mountains as their home, to them they were the true children of these same mountains and using magic they forged grand sets of armor and legendary weapons forged from their Parents. They were warriors without equal in the mountains but the tribe was few and those who could wield the armaments of the Father and Mother were even fewer so when they set about on a holy war against the lesser clans they were quick to doom themselves. A coalition of several tribes and clans quickly outnumbered the great soldiers of the Ironclad Mountain clans and their slow death march began.

The Ironclad Mountain Clan view Earth Magic as sacred gifts from the Father and the Mother, the power granted by their parents to shape weapons, armies, even grand cities (or so the legends say). Since the early days of the Clan the Earth Magic has faded from their wizards, now Barig the Iron Lord is the strongest Stonesinger (the Ironclad Mountain Clan's name for their Earth Mages) in over five hundred years time.

Ship Name: Obsidian Wayfarer
Colonists: 100 Ironclad Mountain farmers, 200 Ironclad Mountain Miners, 50 Ironclad Mountain Warriors, 50 Ironclad Mountain Foresters, 25 Ironclad Mountain Masons, 25 Ironclad Mountain Carpenters, 45 Ironclad Mountain Warriors, 5 Apprentice Ironclad Mountain Stonesingers
Food: 3000. Measured in person-months; 3000 is six months' worth of food for 500 people.
Tools: Adequate. Measures your ability to perform specialized tasks on arrival.
Amenities: Sparse. Measures your peoples' ability to not become disgruntled on arrival.
Navigation: Adequate^TM. Measures your ship's ability to avoid careening into unpleasant things in the space between planes.
Insulation: Adequate^TM. Measures your ship's ability to shield its passengers from the harmful effects of unfortunate things in the space between planes.
Structural Integrity: Adequate. Measures your ship's ability to not crack like an egg when something catches it wrong, between planes or on top of one.
Additional Supplies: None. Measures your ship's stash of other neat stuff.

EDIT:
Question: How much would I need to reduce Insulation to to be able to bring an artifact or device that could sense ore deposits?

Aileen smiled at Seralt's praise, a ploy to put her off guard clearly but still it was nice to hear others sing praise to the House, even if they didn't quite mean it.

"We certainly had luck on our side in those early years, but the Church's fall on Si'kar was that fool of an Archon Luthias' work. By the time my grandfather turned on the Church lands to get that bastard's head he'd already fled with what few officials were still loyal to him, the general populace weren't happy with the man either so the Church's presence crumbled from there though I won't say we didn't speed it along in a few places when we had to. However I could bore you with my tales, and thoughts of that war all day Seralt, but we both know this meeting isn't meant purely for pleasantries, you think I can help you gain some more power for House Azores as the new power in the Imperial Domain.

What plans do you have for Azores' and Salyar's futures Seralt?"

---

Aileen was all smiles, and good graces as she was lead into the Emperor's study however the mood changed quickly as Valerian spoke and her smile quickly changed to a frown with a glare that would've made men of lower stature severely uncomfortable. She stared at the man for a few moments, how had she not noticed it this entire time? A Hartwing was the Emperor. A Hartwing had laid waste to Si'kar, and her grandfather had swore to find that man in whatever hell his soul fled to yet here she was. Here she was standing before that damned Archon's own son, the Emperor and the lord she'd finally allowed Salyar to kneel to.

"Hartwing. I am honestly surprised I didn't realize this before I decided to let my House become the vassal of the family that managed to bring our homeworld to ruin. The name is Aileen Salyar, Matriarch of House Salyar which rules part of the blasted hellhole your Father has made of Si'kar. I came to see of what use my family could be to the Emperor, but now I see we'll probably be needed to go glass another world, make it a deathworld and then leave without a glance to those dying on its surface."

Aileen read the Seralt Azores with a slight smile on her face, House Salyar had only recently made its way into power in the Imperial Domain and already the politics and games were about to begin, games she quite despised as a necessary evil for the risk of death that always seemed to come with them. Sighing she was quick to send word back for in a new theater with all new threats it was always important to get the lay of the land, and then start getting allies whose backs you can redirect knives into should they come your way.

To Seralt,
I would be remiss to deny such a meeting to another House of such standing, I would be honored to meet you and see if what they say about you is as true as I hear. I must make an appearance at the Imperial Court soon soon, so then would be perhaps the best time for a meeting.

Aileen of House Salyar

---

Aileen sighed as she found herself waiting outside of the Throne Room waiting for word to come that the Emperor was ready to receive her. For today she had worn a flowing red dress that seemed to contrast heavily with the battered sheath, and sword that poked its way up over her should in easy reach should any trouble occur. As was the tendency when Aileen found her nerves on edge her hand had found its way to the ludicrous example of a flintlock pistol that was strapped to her hip, she traced her finger along the edge of the hilt expertly avoiding the exposed wires, tiny metal pipes, and silver boxes sticking out of the weapon in almost all angles. The weapon had ceased to work shortly after her grandfather's death, and no one had managed to get it working since, now she kept it for the sentiment it represented and her memories of kind, tortured man who was her grandfather ...