Frostgrave Vandred game 7 - cloudy with a chance of plague later.

Well, that was one way to start the day.

We were moving through the forests of Stirland towards yet another human village when the air started to turn thick and fever-hot. The drone of big fat flies was the first clue. Then came that greasy, dead-in-your-mouth taste that told us something was very wrong. By the time we got close enough to smell it properly, we knew we weren’t dealing with your average bandit problem.

The village was absolutely crawling with Plague Bearers.

Here’s the warband for this one — Vandred and his merry band of chaotic worshippers, all ready for a lovely afternoon stroll through pestilence.

The Prologue Three warbands converging on the same stinking village: Alan with his witch hunters, George and his Skaven, and me bringing up the rear with Vandred’s crew. Traditional Tailby style meant I came third in the initiative roll, so I got to sit there politely while everyone else started the party.

Alan started laying down walls of Fog like some desperate fencing contractor that's on a job and finish pay deal.

George Leapt his Marksman with magic crossbow onto the roof.

Vandred started as he meant to continue and rolled a one when casting strength on Gurni the knigh thus forcing a resuffle of the front line and the ever-reliable Morkar-the-Bloody, now taking point. Gurni was reassigned to guarding the treasure collectors. The shame of it.

Plague Bearers came swarming out of the village like they’d been waiting for us. Before we even got near any treasure, Vandred and the lads ran head-first into a wolf, a troll, and half a dozen of the rotting bastards. It was a proper welcoming committee.

The best bit? Vandred walked away with a brand-new wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. Result.

(Yes, I’m still reminded on a regular basis that I’m the only player in the group who has ever managed to get his wizard killed stone dead. Poor old Herne leapt on a boar thinking “good eatin’ on one of those” and promptly got gored through the heart on a critical hit, followed by a 1 on the survival roll. Nothing for it but to hand the warband over to Marion the apprentice. She went full nature goddess on everyone’s arse after that. Mutch the Miller’s son was the only original member who survived the whole campaign from start to finish. Proper Robin of Sherwood stuff.)

My Archer managed to miss a Plague Bearer and hit a tree. Probably because his eyes were watering due to the smell.

Then things got properly lively. Spells were flying, crossbows twanging, and George's constructs were being… enthusiastic. There was a fair bit of frantic shouting about control spells and whether the drummer had officially become the frontline fighter (he had). The dice were their usual treacherous selves, but the lads were carving through plague bearers left and right. Alan cast Mind Control on George's large construct and used it to have all sorts of fun. The small chunk of warpstone it used for a brain was infused with the spirit of Holy Sigmar. Blue light shining out of its eye sockets like torches.

" No kill-slay! No kill-Slay!!"

By the end of the turn we’d cleared a decent path, the wolf was dealt with, and the troll was looking significantly less healthy. Vandred’s new pelt was already starting to smell like victory.

Sometimes you generate the AI and sometimes it generates you. ROFL.

The rest of the game continued in the same glorious, chaotic fashion — more monsters, more dodgy dice rolls, and plenty of table chatter that had almost nothing to do with the actual game (hence the best bits earning themselves a permanent home on the 3 Drunk Parrots quote page).

Oh! look, it's an infestation of plague bearers

The Plague bearers have all moved off towards George while Alan investigates the back door to see if there is a secret entrance.

Alan laid down a fog wall between us after I had defeated most of the plague bearers and other monsters in my sector. There was still the bloody troll to deal with. Morkar was slowly chopping it to bits with his axe.

Magarea managed to fumble a heal on Vandred so he would be injured for the rest of the game

At this point Alan was eying up a 4th treasure. I wasn't having any of that! So I moved up warriors to look threatening. The fog now made it difficult for Alan to pull of any transpose shenanigans because he couldn't see through it. Morkar is still playing with his food. "Will you just get on with it! I'm not paying you by the hour!"

In the end the village was cleared, the plague bearers were sent back to whatever hell they crawled out of, and Vandred’s warband limped home with enough treasure and experience to keep the campaign rolling nicely. Nobody died (which is always a bonus) and Marion would have been quietly proud.

After selling some Junk we installed a giant Cauldron and a Sarcophagus of Healing.

Vandred and Magaera argued about who's miscast was the worst.

Another cracking day at the table. If you want the full unfiltered chaos, including all the glorious off-topic rambling, the video is now up on the channel.

Vandred game 7 Cloudy with a chance of Plague later.

Next time we’re heading even deeper into the Frozen City. Until then… watch out for boars, keep an eye on your dice, and remember — if the air starts smelling like something crawled in your mouth and died, it’s probably time to turn around.

Tally ho, Baaaah!, and see you on the table.