The Daemon's Claw

Alan and I played another game of Silver Bayonet over the weekend. The game was a lot of fun. Very violent compared to the last game. This mission we needed to confirm that an agent had been killed and recover his signet ring. This was in the area of an abandoned village in a forest clearing. This is what Grok thinks our table looks like. This is what it actually looked like. That's the first goblin rushing off to fight Alans French. As is tradition he won the first turns initiative. While I am using Warhammer goblins, these goblins are made of much sterner stuff. They have high defence and damage reduction and they turn off your guns if they get within 6 inches. There is a terrible joke in there somewhere but I'm not going looking for it. Here are my stout native chappies, advancing towards the center of the village. Advance lads Baaah. My officer is definitely shooting at something. My native scout tries shooting a goblin and manages to do 4 damage to it. I think that was all...

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 fenci...