As far as seafaring races go, Salamanders were considered by many as equals of the elder race of Elves, while they themselves held a more professional view of ardent competitors, if not truly able to contest the fair folk's mastery of the seas. Captain Stha'k held herself in high esteem mostly based on the fact that the amount of people able to offer reasonable counsel in matters related to running a vessel on the Infant Sea had steadily grown increasingly meager. The storm itself posed little threat to either her reputation or ability to survive, but combined with the unfamiliar shores so close at hand the buffeting winds were enough cause to concern.
"Captain, we need to make landfall ere dawn. We can't dawdle here!"
The leader of the company that went for cargo on this journey lumbered up the steep steps of the aft deck. Stha'k disliked the commanding tone of the officer and turned to face the other lizard with a resigned sigh.
"I hear you, Battle-Captain, but with this storm bearing down on us, you might get a swifter landing than even your impatience calls for."
"Can you put us to shore here, or can't you? We can't be seen here come morning."
"Listen, I'm well aware of the situation and we'll..."
The captain's attempt to placate the Battle-Captain was cut short by a sickening lurch and a crackling groan of timbers smashed on stone. She was thrown off her feet and barely managed to grab a hold of a railing instead of being simply washed over it by the sudden rush of water over the deck.
"Reef! We've hit a reef!", the ship's mate's roar rang over the splintering noise.
--
The morning came as a pale gleaming of a watery sun reaching through an iron-grey cover of clouds. It lit the sad wreckage of the proud ship tumbled over across the sandy beach. A single bejeweled eye of the smashed apart figurehead stared up at the Battle-Captain from a pool of water left behind by the receding tide. He looked about and counted three others. More had escaped on the boats launched before the ship was beaten apart on the rocks, but now they were nowhere to be seen.
"What now, Battle-Captain?", a Prime growled as she stopped next to the officer. He shrugged and shook his tail to clear some clinging sand, then stood up straight and rolled his broad, scaled shoulders and answered:"Food, water. A defensible campsite."
"Yes, sir."
--
Today we managed to get our campaign off to a start of sorts. As we're all new to this, we've still got a lot to take in as we go from game to game. Thus our rosters weren't quite up to date and we're still kicking the whole thing into gear.
All together four games took place between the warbands that had managed to drag themselves up the beaches of Greensway Isle. First the Basileans skirmished with the Salamanders over some vital supplies they both need in order to replenish their empty stores.
Empty stomachs make little of political alliances.
Despite their valiant attempts to drive off the Salamanders from the caches of supplies they had spotted amidst a rocky highland, the Bluecoats (who, sharing the same fate of being marooned after the storm as their reptilian adversaries, still hadn't found Sergeant Tiberian or other members of their company) took a severe beating and were forced to withdraw into the coastal woodlands.
Meanwhile the Abyssals, whose attention had been drawn to Greensway as they sensed the tension of the coming power struggle, tore a rift into the fabric of reality as they attempted to send their infernal legions to wreck havoc on the Isles. Their plans went awry, however, as the gathering of arcane energies required to punch the portal through to Greensway attracted a host of Nightstalkers, whose numbers over-taxed the portal rift and scattered both forces all over Greensway Isles. A local Necromancer, much to his distress, found this out the hard way as he was replenishing the ranks of his undead minions at a farmstead that been mysteriously ransacked the previous night.
A bloody struggle ensued and in the end the Abyssals fled one way, while the nearly destroyed Necromancer fled the other.
Later that day the scattered forces of all factions clashed with each other whenever they ran into bands of opposing warriors. Finally only the Salamanders were able to secure a proper foothold on the island.
--
We played two games each, so four games, all at 75pts to get new players started with the rules without overly many models on the field. Next round will be at around 125 points, so a little bit more blood to spill while the warbands each.
Next time I think I'll write a proper battle report.
Cheers,
AoW
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