A thoughtful, fantasy, comedy about policing and time travel.
Who’s the writer?
The late, great Sir Terry Pratchett.
What’s it about?
Commander Vimes is the boss of Ankh-Morpork’s city watch. On the 25th May, the anniversary of a Glorious Revolution, he is caught up in a magical storm whilst chasing one of the city’s most psychotic criminals. He wakes up naked, in the back streets of the city, a mere 30 years from where he started, and its all about to kick off.
Terry Pratchett had an amazing talent for using his fantasy world to tell a story, whilst holding a mirror up to our own. Night Watch is no exception. A fantastically funny story about time travel, policing, oppressive regimes and revolution where the Discworld setting serves up its own brand of reflection and light relief. This story was made all the more poignant given the events of 2020.
Whilst it is a comedy, the story inevitably wonders into the darker aspects of human behaviour, which Pratchett does not shy away from or try to play down. He handles them exceptionally well, creating sombre, emotionally charged passages which reinforce his brilliance as a writer.
Is it any good?
I sometimes wonder if there is much point reviewing books that were written almost 20 years ago. Especially when they were so popular and widely read at the time of their launch. But rereading Night Watch has convinced me its as valid as reviewing any new publication. Once a book is out there its fixed. The story and sentiments will never change. Yes, they may be retold by others, in a range of different formats, but the book that started the story will stay the same. The world, however, moves on. Views and values iterate and evolve, we hope for the better. Rereading older books is a great way of checking in with our favourites and seeing how they, and to an extent we, are holding up.
I’ll always have a special love for the Ankh-Morpork Watch, it was this collection of individuals that really cemented my interest in, and enjoyment of, the Discworld. How much has changed since I last picked this book up? Turns out very little. Its easy to remember the Discworld novels as funny and thoughtful. Night Watch showcases Terry Pratchett’s range as a writer; equally able to tackle the dark and sombre as well observed witticisms. Night Watch is as good, if not in some ways better, today as it was when it first made its way to my bookshelf. What’s more it’s rekindled my love of the Discworld, and I have a feeling it won’t be long before I revisit the streets of Ankh-Morpork with my favourite local constabulary.
Loads of great wordsmiths. This a collection of 20 short stories (with a couple of poems) from a wide range of successful authors including Neil Gaiman, Charlie Jane Anders, M.R.Carey and Christina Henry.
What’s it about?
This is a fantastic collection of scary shorts covering a broad range of subject matter. Zombies, ghosts, curses and trolls. There really is a scare for everyone. The writers draw on a wide range of inspirations. Twisted traditional tales, inspired by Sleeping Beauty and Red Riding Hood, sit comfortably alongside more modern takes on terror.
For me, the two stand out stories are Wendy, Darling by Christopher Golden and The Merrie Dancers by Alison Littlewood. Golden’s take on Peter Pan offers a darkly novel and disturbing interpretation of an instantly recognisable classic. By contrast Littlewood’s tale draws on much older legends, planting them in a modern setting with no less a terrifying twist.
Is it any good?
As with any short story collect there’s likely to be some you’ll love, some you’ll hate and a couple that you’ll just be very meh about. Fortunately, this is a really well curated anthology, so I found way more of the loves than the mehs and maybe one than verged on an exceptionally mild dislike.
Christina Henry is predominantly a horror writer who creates gruesome and chilling worlds from stories we are likely to know from our childhoods. The Mermaid is an exception, as a beautiful historical fiction set in P.T. Barnum’s museum. Her book Alice, which this short story collection links to, was one of Amazon’s best Science Fiction and Fantasy books in 2015 and came second in the Goodreads Choice awards for Best Horror. In short, her books are well worth investing some time in if you like a scary read.
What’s it about?
In 2015 Christina Henry released the first book of her Alice duology, which was followed by Red Queen. These books created a dark, new interpretation of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. In Alice, Christina Henry distilled all the quintessential elements of Alice in Wonderland and turned them into a horrifically dystopian world that is the everyday reality for the citizens of the Old City. She found new homes and new careers for the White Rabbit, the Caterpillar and the Cheshire Cat placing them at the heart of a rotten city utterly corrupted and without mercy. Red Queen then moves the story on, exploring the no less lethal world outside the city.
Looking Glass is a collection of short stories that gives further insight into Alice’s terrifying and brutal reality. Each story introduces new characters and moves on the timeline, and our understanding of the main characters. Each story is a self-contained episode, but readers will get so much more out of this book if they have already read Alice and Red Queen.
The book shows off Christina Henry’s capabilities as a horror writer and adds to our understanding of Alice’s disturbing and violent world. Most interestingly for me, we get our first real insight into the New City, which until now we have had only the briefest of glimpses, and Alice’s family.
For fans of Alice this book is a fantastic expansion of a world that you are unlikely to love, but will be hypnotised, horrified and intrigued by. I’m also very hopeful that the new characters we meet will be seen again soon in their own stories. Alice’s world has been painted so vividly it draws you in and I hope it won’t be too long before there is another opportunity to visit.
Is it any good?
Yes. Creepy, twisted and, at times, just flat out bloody. Whilst readers would benefit from reading Alice and Red Queen, this is a perfect Halloween read.
One of the great things about Kings of War is the level of balance across the army lists. This means its possible to build a range of solid lists that explore different aspects of all the different factions. Personally I’ve always favoured elite armies, but playing the same build can get repetitive so I decided to have a go at a more grind style rat list, and after a few iterations I thought it was in a good enough place for a battle report.
BTW the narrative for this game is the second part of Stealing Shards, so definitely worth a look if you haven’t already.
2 – Shock Troop horde with Plague Pot and Caterpillar
3 & 4 – Warrior regiment with Plague Pot
5 – Spear horde with Plague Pot and Blade of Slashing
6 & 7 & 8 – Vermintide regiment
9 – Strayrat – Master Scurrier with Pendent of Retribution
10 – Night Terror with Blade of the Beastslayer
11 – Old Mother Cinderpaw – Mother Cryza
12 – Warlock with Boomstick
13 – Kiitsch Sparkthrower – Warlock with Banechant
14 – Tangle
The Herd
1 – Spirit Walkers horde
2 – Hunters of the Wild regiment
3 & 4 – Gur Panther regiment
5 – Harpies troop
6 – Guardian Brute horde with Blessing of the Gods
7 – Lycan horde
8 – Beast of Nature with wings and 7 attacks
9 – Beast of Nature with noxious breath and 7 attacks
10 – Moonfang
11 – Druid with Banechant and Conjurer’s Staff
12 – Gladewalker Druid with Blizzard
Set up
Turn 1
Cinderpaw drifted in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity. Long periods of dark nothing stretched out, punctuated by odd moments of lucidness. There was mud and violence. The rancid whiff of fleabag fur. The discomfort of being carried. Deep, deep slumber. Damp. Nothing.
The body surged forward. Thin and ragged like broken sticks covered in a sheer grey sheet of flesh long passed its prime. The chest shot up, arching the back, throwing the dead weight of the head up so violently the eye lids opened and the dull green balls rolled back. A breath stirred.
Strayrat knelt over Cinderpaw’s broken corpse and watched it fall back to the ground. He uncorked the small black vial again. The acrid smell scratched the inside of his nostrils. Carefully he tipped the next drop into the broodmother’s open mouth. One drop to wake them, two drops to get them up, three drops to take them away forever.
The second drop hit Cinderpaw’s tongue and her heart murmured. Muscles unused for maybe a day, maybe more, contracted and the black blood started to pump.
“How goes it?” said Sparkthrower, entering the cave with his apprentice by his side.
“She is responding.” Strayrat replied without looking up.
“Can she hurry up? This distraction does little for my apprentice’s education. Are we carrying a corpse back to the tunnels? Or will it carry itself?” Sparkthrower asked, irritation in his voice.
Strayrat shot the warlock a look as sharp as any of the knives that hung from his belt. Sparkthrower reigned in his frustration and reminded himself Strayrat was a rat he now needed to make a friend of, or least ways not an enemy. How many years had that runt led the hackpaws, disguising himself as a lowly tracker and outrider, all the time concealing his true position in the clan?
Sparkthrower was still trying to work out what he found harder to come to terms with. That he, the chief warlock of the Fyrefur clan, was not privy to the identity of the clan’s master scurrier, or that Old Mother Cinderpaw was so vital to the clan that Strayrat had been instructed to reveal his identity so that Cinderpaw’s carcass could be retrieved.
“The corpse will do exactly as it pleases, just as the chief warlock will do exactly as I please.” Cinderpaw’s chill voice spoke, “And what I please is that we take our vengeance on this malignant forest.”
Sparkthrower looked uncomfortable, he had heard about Cinderpaw’s encounter with the spirits of the forest. He did not want another such abject failure haunting his reputation.
“Come chief warlock.” Said the ancient brood mother grabbing up her staff, seemingly growing in vigour with every passing second, “We have the woods to wake up.”
As the triumvirate of rat leaders, and the apprentice, made their way out of the cave the sound of massed ranks of ratkin became increasingly apparent. Drums beat, horns sounded. In the clearing beneath the cave small groups of warriors ran around busying themselves in the undergrowth.
“What are they doing?” Sparkthrower asked.
“Searching for the stumps.” Cinderpaw replied.
“I’m assuming there is more to this than digging out lumps of dead tree?” Sparkthrower continued.
“Of course. These are special stumps. Consider them akin to the remains of ancient heroes.” Cinderpaw explained, before turning to address Strayrat, “How many have the found?”
“Eight, my queen.” The scurrier replied.
“Then they have found enough. Call them back to their ranks. I will summon the forest.” Strayrat motioned to a runner stood by the entrance of the cave to take Cinderpaw’s message to the warriors. The brood mother raised her claws, yelled defiance at the sky before sending a lightening bolt hurtling towards one of the eight tree stumps the rummaging warriors had cleared.
“What are you doing?” Sparkthrower asked, already guessing the answer was unlikely to involve polite conversations over mugs of wine.
“Getting their attention.”
Sparkthrower was about to share his thoughts on Cinderpaw’s clearly questionable line of thought, particularly given her recent near, or possibly actual, death experience at the hands of the forces of nature, when he noticed eyes on the opposite side of the clearing. A lot of eyes. He shuddered.
The Hunters of the Wild were the first to break cover on the left flank, although the hill protected them from the prying eyes of the enemy. On the right, Strayrat ran forward making himself as visible as possible to the hidden foe. Sparkthrower shook his head as he, Cinderpaw and his apprentice made their way to the left side of the field. How had he not guessed that idiot was what passed for a master spy, scout and killer these days. Clearly there was the need for a new leader of the clan, a more subtle and refined one. One that did not lead suicide missions against angry trees and their ilk. Repeatedly.
The spell casters took up position as the beasts of the herd moved cautiously forward. Cinderpaw sensed the running of wolves on the right. Clearly, they hoped to claim the unprotected stumps before turning and trying to slash their way behind the vermin lines.
An eldritch storm of ice and hail seemed to whip up around the Spear horde on the hill. Chunks of ice rained down bludgeoning several warriors to death who were not been quick enough to raise their shields against the weather.
“Make the forest bleed.” Cinderpaw yelled in a wicked, rasping voice that seemed to Sparkthorwer had a new youthfulness he had never heard in his lifetime.
Wicked squeaks and beaten shields responded and the rat legions advanced as quickly as possible towards the warriors emerging from the trees ahead of them. The Spear horde and Vermintide on the hill broke off to face the wolves on the right. Strayrat ran from the Gur Panthers that stood in front of him, shooting at the Lycans by way of token aggression, allowing the Night Terror a clear path to charge the cats. Unfortunately, the panthers had moved around the slide of a lake and the terrain under claw was wet and slippery. Whilst the Night Terror reached its target the wet ground made it difficult to get purchase and the creature lashed out blindly, unable to hit any of the cats.
In the centre the priest on the Tangle cast weakness on the Spirit Walkers in anticipation of the combat that was to come.
Rage barely contained, Cinderpaw lashed out at the Beast of Nature in the centre of the herd lines with her lightening. Sparkthrower and his apprentice joined in. The creature reeled from the bolts that struck it, bloodied but unbowed it lowered its head to charge.
End of turn 1 …ish… spot the monster move that pre-empted the photo:)
Turn 2
The lightening struck Beast of Nature, crashed into the exposed flank of the Spear horde. Vermin bodies were broken and tossed aside, but the horde remained. The Gur Panthers pulled back from the Night Terror and ran towards the Spear horde eager to join the fight. As Moonfang and the winged Beast of Nature also turned their attentions in the direction of the Spears, the Lycans charged the Night Terror. Still struggling to find a grip on the slippery lakeside the creature was rapidly torn apart by the wolfmen who were more at home in the varied terrain of the out-of-tunnel.
The hill on the left of the field, combined with the ratkin’s battle order restricted the movements of the warriors of the herd leaving them with little option but to charge what they could see. The Brute Guardians and Hunters of the Wild charged a warrior regiment whilst the Spirit Walkers ran into the central Shock Troops. The warrior beasts found their targets wreathed in filth, reeking of fetid water and putrid flesh. The stench shredded their heightened senses, breaking their concentration, making blows miss their mark or slip off shields. On the hill the herd’s sheer weight of numbers broke the Warrior regiment. The Shock Troops, however, escaped any real damage from the Spirit Walker’s charge as the plague pots and weakness blunted their effort. The few casualties we easily absorbed and the ratmen readied themselves to fight back. The response was brutal. The Warriors to the right of the Shock Troops joined the fray. Still engulfed in filth the Spirit Walkers choked and spluttered, seemingly unable to raise their blades in their own defence as the ratmen went gleefully about their slaughter. The Vermintide nearest to the central Shock Troops charged the Hunters of the Wild to prevent them from lending any assistance to their friends whilst on the far left, the other Shock Troops charged up the hill, into the Guardian Brutes. Jagged blades ripped through animal flesh and feathers leaving bloody pulp where noble beasts had once stood. Freed from the distraction of the brutes the Shock Troops set to hacking at one of the stumps until all that remained was a hole in the ground from which torn roots protruded.
On the right the Spear horde continued their advance, moving away from the frenzied beast gorging itself on their former companions. They charged into the Gur Panthers, sending them scattering and set their spears, readying for the inevitable charge from the Lycans that had turned to face them. The Vermintide ran towards the winged Beast of Nature, scurrying around its feet, small teeth sinking into its flesh, preventing it from flying for the moment.
Strayrat engaged his target, a flurry of blades sought ways around and through Moonfang’s preternatural blocks and dodges, but could not find an opening through which he could land a killing blow.
In the centre Sparkthrower and his apprentice eyed the Beast of Nature feasting on the dead ratmen. The creature seemed oblivious to the fact it now sat within the rat lines. Blocked in by fighting to is rear and one side whilst the casters and the Tangle completed the circle. Sparkthrower raised his claw, a blue glow emanated from it and sparks danced like fireflies around it. The thing was almost pitiable the Warlock thought, but what relevance has pity to a battlefield? Sparkthrower discharged the energy that had built up in his claw. It hit the beast making it jolt and shriek. Sparkthrower’s apprentice raised his boomstick and followed his master’s lead and finally gouts of flame shot from the Tangle with an intensity and heat that stripped flesh and melted bone into the forest floor. She wanted to make the forest bleed, I guess this is the next best thing, Sparkthrower thought.
End of turn 2
Turn 3
Cinderpaw smiled as she surveyed the left side of the field. On the far left the last troop of Gur Panthers snapped ineffectively at the Vermintide that swarmed round their feet, avoiding their jaws and nipping at their legs with dirty, diseased teeth. Meanwhile the Hunters of the Wild were tied up with their own vermin issues. Try as they might they could not push the squeaking swarm back, let alone break it.
On the right flank the wolves were very much is ascendance. Moonfang lashed out at Strayrat. The Master Scurrier tried to dodge away from the blows, but he was not fast enough. Moonfang’s claws made contact with his chest slicing deep channels through his leather armour and into the flesh below. Adrenaline pumped, numbing Strayrat to the injury and making him question his choice of targets.
With the Gur Panther’s routed the path was clear for the Lycans to strike at the Spear horde. The wolfmen let out a near paralyzing howl. Some took to all fours, whilst others ran upright on their hind legs, but all leapt and fell as one upon the Spear horde. The ratmen had broken open the seals on their plague pot, but the noxious fumes did little to stop the frenzied onslaught of the dog men and their attacks, which combined with the losses the horde had already suffered were enough to send the remaining warriors running from the field.
Grounded by the Vermintide the winged Beast of Nature could do little but swot at the tiny beasts until they finally broke. In a desperate show of defiance of the ratkin the harpies on the left flank landed beside Moonfang, having secured two of the stumps with magical charms that would hide them once more from the eyes of the evil vermin.
Driven to the height of blood lust by their destruction of the brutes and the desecration of the stump the Shock Troops on the left charged further up the hill and into the flank of the Hunters of the Wild. Already hemmed in by the Vermintide the spindly forest fighters could do little to resist the storm of seemingly insatiable violence that enveloped them. The forest was beginning to bleed.
Damaged by the charge of the Spirit Walkers, and a localised blizzard conjured by the Gladewalker Druid, the central Shock Troops pulled back denying a charge to all but the bloodied Lycans. The remaining warrior regiment spied another stump and marched towards it, blades brandished eager to garner favour from Old Mother Cinderpaw.
Strayrat had pulled back from Moonfang. The brute was powerful and unbelievably fast. He was concerned he had met his match. Seeing the harpies coming into land just behind the beast Strayrat made a break for it. He turned and twisted away from slashing claws until he faced the bird women, but his exertions escaping the werewolf meant his attacks on the harpies fell short, failing to do anything except confirm in their minds the ratman was not a friend.
Encouraged by the destruction of the Beast of Nature Sparkthrower sought new targets. He pointed towards the Lycan horde, squeaking instructions immediately lost to the din of battle. His apprentice raised the boomstick whilst the Tangle turned to face the dogmen and seconds later they were bathed in lightening and flame. The heat and the shocks were too much for the creatures who scattered from the glade, tail between they’re legs.
End of turn 3
Turn 4
With much of the herd either dead or routed the Beast of Nature with Wings made a final attempt to save one of the stumps. It flew into the rear of the Warrior regiment that had set about removing another stump, but it was too late. Thin faces grinned with nervous excitement and tails twitched with glee at their destructive endeavours, driving the beast into a rage. It rained down furious blows, claws rending, fists pummelling until nothing recognisable remained of the rat warriors. The beast turned to face the Shock Troops on the hill only to feel the hacking of axes in its flesh as the Shock Troops in the centre charged its flank and ran it to ground before turning to face the central stump, their path to it now clear.
The harpies jumped and flapped, talons grabbed at Strayrat, but failing to connect in any meaningful way. Surrounded by the vicious, pecking, tearing bird women the Master Scurrier decided that discretion was the better part of valour and withdrew from the fight.
Moonfang surveyed the battlefield. The rats had visited the woods before. The trees had told him. He didn’t need the trees to tell him they were a plague, a filth, a cancer. He stalked forward anger and vengeance driving him on. Having seen the power of the rat creatures’ magic users he moved cautiously, skirting the base of the small hill the cowards hid behind. He felt the shot in the back first. A burning sensation from the assassin’s pistol, but such was his mood the bullet, if it penetrated at all, did not slow him. The Tangle shuffled into view, releasing a great gout of flame. The werewolf continued to stalk towards the rats. Finally, the lightening bolts came, scratching his skin but not deterring him.
End of turn 4
Turn 5
Moonfang picked up the pace as he saw the two casters ahead of him. He bounded towards the first. It raised some kind of stick, but whatever it was intended to do failed to happen and creature’s brittle body snapped in Moonfang’s claws. Anger still coursing through his veins he leapt to the next robed rat jaws tearing its throat clean out as the thing looked on in shock, not noticing what had happened until it was too late.
The harpies followed Moofang’s lead and swooped on the assassin once again. This time they managed to pin him to the ground. Deciding he had contributed enough to the battle Strayrat manged to pull a stone pendant from around his neck. Its shiny stone setting distracted the bird women long enough for Strayrat to roll away leaving the neckless in his place. The harpies crowded round the hypnotic gem, quite forgetting the ratman, and then in exploded, shattering into a million pieces that flew around embedding themselves in the harpy’s flesh, weakening, but not killing them. Snapping them out of their trance.
On the right flank Cinderpaw watched as the Gladewalker Druid ran for the woods preparing to unleash another tiny blizzard. The old brood mother knew instantly the danger this creature presented. The Shock Troops in the centre were badly wounded. It wouldn’t take much, even surrounded by their brethren, to send them scurrying from the field. Cinderpaw signalled to the central Vermintide regiment and together they charged the caster. The woods hindered their efforts, but a single blow caught the wizard, distracting him from his next spell.
End of turn 5
Turn 6
The central Shock Troops had reached the centre stump, noticing another not far away they ran to secure it. The Tangle advanced into the centre claiming the final stump and releasing a gout of flames that drove the harpies from the field.
Angry, alone and powerless Moonfang howled in a final act of defiance, before retreating to the safety of the trees.
In the aftermath of the battle Cinderpaw stood over the bodies of Sparkthrower and his apprentice.
“Best thing for traitors.” Strayrat said, appearing at the broodmother’s shoulder.
“I’ve always believed treachery is an action rather than a thought. Until it happens it is at best ambition, at worst indecision. Besides, I see dark days ahead for the world. The Halpi Mountains are crying out to the world, something is trying to escape, a book is needing to be opened. Nothing good ever came from a book that needed to be opened. Sparkthrower’s ambitions are for my position, its not personal. Besides, all good leaders should have someone capable for their duties to fall on, when they inevitably fall.” Cinderpaw mused reaching into her robes and producing a tiny black vial. “Who knows, maybe this experience will finally teach him a little humility.”
One drop to wake them, two drops to get the up.
End of turn 6
As the dust settles
The game was a 4:2 victory for the rats. As I mentioned in the introduction this is a new list for me and the aim is very much to understand more about how the Tangle and plague pots work as I’ve never felt they have a place in my usual rat builds. So here are my final thoughts:
Perseverance – my previous attempts at this kind of list have failed miserably. I first tried the Tangle and a more infantry heavy list at the beginning of the year against a similar herd list and got shredded. Even the previous iteration got itself pretty much tabled by the Kingdoms of Men. The key thing is perseverance and listening. I’ve got some really experienced opponents whose advice went a long way to moving the build forward, and of course I have to thank the Facebook Rat group for the Master Scurrier Crystal Pendant suggestion. I think rat assassins are an iconic part of the army and I think this build gives him a place. I very much believe Kings of War is a balanced game, allowing loads of different options to play armies in a variety of ways, but thought and practice still need to go into different builds to make them as effective as possible. I’m looking forward to playing with this list again soon.
Have a plan – I can find scenario play quite difficult. I tend to get wrapped up in the battle and start thinking far too late about how I’m going to achieve the objectives. In this game I actually went in with a plan that played to my strength. Because rats work best close together (primarily because of rallying) I decided from the outset I would look to secure the objectives on my left and the centre, whilst trying to prevent my opponent from accessing his. This meant I was able to concentrate my forces over a smaller area taking advantage of rallying and cloak of death support as much as possible, but also allowing relatively short range spells like fireball and banechant to be easily deployed where they were needed.
Rat of the match
I never thought I would say this, but the Tangle. I know this tiny titan has had glowing reviews from so many rat players but my traditional approach to rats has just meant the Tangle, and plague pots, have not been part of the equation. Now I get it. It is a perfect multi role tool that provides so many useful options. From using weakness to blunt the Spirit Walker’s charge to using fireball to supplement the lightening bolt shootiness I would go as far as to say this construct played a part in virtually every key moment in the battle.
Joe Abercrombie, a UK author and general master of modern fantasy fiction, who has written two previous trilogies and a couple of stand-alone books all based in the same setting. According to his website he’s done quite well, with previous books making their way to the upper reaches of the Sunday Times and New York Times Hardcover Bestseller Lists. He’s also quite good to follow on twitter, if you like that sort of thing.
What’s it about?
The Trouble With Peace is the second instalment of his latest trilogy, The Age of Madness. The story picks up a little while after the first book ends. The central characters, investor and daughter of the head of the King’s inquisition Savine Dan Glokta, newly crowned King Orso and the recently hailed hero of the Union, the Young Lion, weigh their next steps in a rapidly changing world.
Joe Abercrombie’s world has all the classic fantasy elements of wizards, barbarians, flatheads (chunky humanoids with big teeth and a penchant for hammering bits of metal into themselves) and suchlike. However, his treatment of the world and people in it is far from the traditional fantasy tropes. Whilst each book set in the world focuses on the characters that drive and shape key events his collection of work continually moves the timeline forward. This gives even the mightiest hero a transitory aspect as the inevitability of age and time wear on them before casting them into the mud and memory.
The Age of Madness finds the Union well entrenched in an industrial revolution. There are clear parallels to our own, as investors reap the financial rewards of new machinery and sketchy ethics. Not to mention the wilful blind eyes turned to the horrendous conditions for the working poor in slums, created by the shift of work to cities, and polluted by the factories those impoverished communities are built around. Its no wonder unrest is brewing.
The central story focuses on the ambitions of the main characters as they manoeuvre for power. The industrialisation of the Union, and the impact on citizens from all walks of life, is a backdrop that increasingly imposes itself on their privileged detachment and personal agendas.
Although modernisation is coming to the word there is no sign of fantasy or magic passing easily away. The Magi are still very much the puppet masters of the world, whilst in the north the prophetess Rikke must divine the best path for her people.
Joe Abercrombie handles the characters and their stories with his usual dark humour, bringing the book to a close on yet another glorious cliff hanger. Bring on the next instalment.
Is it any good?
Yes. Abercrombie’s work has a dark, thoughtful edge to it with an equally dark sense of humour. Grimdark it isn’t quite, but heroes are very much of the moment, and moments pass.
“We, the villagers of Warren Percy, will not stand idly by…”
I’ve been a massive fan of narrative battle reports, with just a little bit of tactical stuff, since picking up my first White Dwarf in the early nineties. Hence, in part, the blog. I was introduced to Burrows and Badgers about a year and a half ago. Oathsworn’s offering is pretty powerful; characterful miniatures, a simple and engaging ruleset and consistently high quality in everything they do. I haven’t played as much as I would like, but Warren Percy (the new two player campaign) seems like a great opportunity to change that. So, with my mainly mole mob, the Velvet Underground, it’s time to seek out new adventures in Northymbra.
The first scenario, the Hiring Fair, is divided into 3 mini games. Though short, they each create a great narrative so I will give a blog post to each of them. In the first mini game there are 5 dummies in the centre of the table and the warbands have to destroy them as quickly a possible.
Warbands
Skills and equipment listed are in addition to any the creatures have naturally.
Velvet Underground (Free beasts)
Jasper Garotte (mole leader) – light armour, sword, blunderbuss, 4 lots of superior black powder
The five dumpkins, an awkward combination of sticks, sacking, root vegetables and straw that couldn’t conceivably be mistaken for anything other than an awkward combination of sticks, sacking, root vegetables and straw, had been assembled in the middle of the heath. Rex stood alone, as was so often the case before any type of confrontation, staring beyond them at the motley crew of assorted beasts gathered on the other side. He strained his eyes, closed them, shook his head a little and blinked them open. In the midst of the group a pennant fluttered in the breeze. As the members of the warband started to fan out, aligning themselves roughly to a dumpkin each, it became apparent the pennant was attached to a lance, held by what appeared to be a fully armoured shrew riding a stag beetle.
Rex stifled a giggle at the sight of the buffed and polished little creature as it wheeled around neatly to face the far right dumpkin. What will these little’uns think of next? But as he hefted his shield into place and felt the reassuring weight of his mace in his paw, a hazy memory floated through his mind. Somewhere in between the drinking and brawling of his old life, before he had been welcomed into the Underground, there had been stories. Hushed conversations, and rumours, and information on the good authority of the less than sober, passed on by the even less than sober. Somewhere amongst the mess that passed for his memories there were tales of a knightly order of shrews dedicated to slaying the massive beasts of Northymbra; but it was just a story, hopefully. He pushed the memory away as he noticed a small hole opening up in front of the central dumpkin and something metallic glinted in the freshly exposed sunlight.
Dumpkin 1
Sir Shrewsalot cantered, or the closest approximation one can undertake on a stag beetle, to the right of the heath. He steadied his mount. On the far side of the dumpkins the shrew could see moles in various styles of battle gear climbing out of their tunnels, preparing to cover the remaining distance to their targets. He started to ride forward. There was the ear-splitting bang of a black powder weapon being discharged. He continued, mount and rider unphased by the loud crack.
He glanced, for just a moment, towards a massive hound in the distance that seemed to be staring at him as only a dumb dog could.
“Let’s make this look good.” Sir Shrewsalot said to his mount, “It’s good for petulant pooches to witness the art of combat as it should be. Precise and elegant, rather than the clumsy thrashing around they seem to think passes for skill at arms.”
He returned his focus to the dumpkin, lowered his lance and spurred his mount to a charge. The lance and stag beetle’s antlers hit the not-quite-a-scarecrow at the same time. The impact caused the thing to explode. Cloth ripped, root vegetables flew through the air. The dumpkin was no more.
“Verily.” Quoth the knight, “That is the appropriate means by which one attains victory, whilst concurrently demonstrating and educating the colossal canine classes.”
Dumpkin 2
Whilst Sir Shrewsalot educated Rex, Orm The Toothless relaxed on a bale of hay that had been set down to show combatants the area in which the trials would take place. Preferring to fight at a distance, ideally from a comfortable perch, he loaded his crossbow rapidly firing off a pair of bolts. Both hit the target square in, what someone with the best of intentions had probably meant to be, the head. Starting to whistle a ditty he couldn’t remember the words for he reloaded the crossbow. This time the bolt was longer than the previous ones, with a tar-soaked rag wrapped around it. He lit it using a stick and nearby oil lantern that had, until this point burnt inexplicably at his feet. He squeezed the trigger. Seconds later flames ignited in the probably-was-intended-to-be-a-head of the dumpkin and the smell of roasting turnip mixed with the smell of burning straw.
Dumpkin 3
The first bang rolled out across the heath and several shards of assorted metal embedded themselves in the central dumpkin. The haphazard structure of the dumpkin was certainly shaken by the shot, but there was undoubtedly an argument it had also been strengthened in the process. Jasper Garrotte lowered his blunderbuss and started the well rehearsed process of reloading. It was only when he returned the weapon to his shoulder to take aim once again that he saw Shrewbert making a dash for the target, sword raised. Smirking at the thought of reducing the target to dust before the little creature’s eyes he pulled the trigger. There was a clunk, followed by a phlut. Jasper swore under his breath, before taking solace that the shrew was charging at the dumpkin and not him. To his right he heard the familiar battle cry of his comrade Pedro. He turned and watched as the mole warrior raised his zweihander above his head.
Shrewbert made it to the dumpkin first, stabbing at it with his sword. Seconds later the dumpkin collapsed as Pedro’s massive blade sliced through the base of the post holding it up. Pedro found himself face to face with the shrew as it worked through the events in its head. The old mole was sure he noticed a look of disappoint on Shrewbert’s face as it became apparent Pedro would take credit for destroying this dumpkin.
Dumpkin 4
After his momentary uncertainty at the presence of the shrew knight, Rex ran forward as the rest of his crew emerged from their holes. The moles might not have been the fastest, or most aggressive of fighters but their enthusiasm, combined with the mobility their tunnels afforded, meant he often felt he was the last to every fight. Keen to get stuck in he headed towards the nearest dumpkin where Bufo was readying to swing. Rex worked his legs as hard as he could, hoping to land a killing blow like Pedro had before him. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Rex’s blow landed before the toad’s obliterating the left side of the dummy, but it was not enough to claim a victory. Rex growled, trying to recover as quickly as possible and launch another furious blow. The toad, by contrast seemed so relaxed, winking at Rex he let his axe fall. The timing was perfect. The single, simple blow collapsed what remained. Bloody shamans.
Bufo lets Rex put the hard work in before finishing the job off.
Dumpkin 5
Jo-Zerker ran up to the final dumpkin and started hacking away. Emerging from his hole Felix watched the shrew busying away. He watched the axe falling and rising, carefully choosing his moment. As the dummy started to sway he sauntered over and slammed his stone axes into the back of the dumpkin. The force of the blows redirected the swaying dummy, causing it to fall onto the surprised shrew. Felix retrieved his axes as the shrew screamed out a volley of curses and abuse, pinned under the dumpkin.
As the dust settles
This is a very straight forward scenario that the Velvet Underground scraped a 1 point win. Not surprisingly, there are no great tactical takeaways, but it illustrates perfectly the depth and strong sense of narrative Burrows and Badgers creates. Now let’s see if the spell casters are ready.
Quick game reviews aren’t just quick reviews of board or card games. They are also intended to review games that are quick, both to get to grips with and play. Over the last month or so we’ve been playing Odin’s Ravens, written by Thorsten Gimmler and published by Osprey Games.
This is a racing game that pits Odin’s ravens Huginn and Muninn against each other as they travel the world to bring knowledge back to the Allfather.
Because these reviews are intended to look at games for people with limited time, and equally limited desire or capacity to spend pouring over rulesets they need to be:
Quick to learn – understand the game mechanics within a couple of attempts.
Quick to set up – out the box and ready to play by the time you’ve made a cup of tea.
Quick to play – possible to go from deciding to play to back in the box on the shelf in around an hour.
There is also one more vital ingredient – depth. It needs to have something that will get the brain working and make you want to revisit it again and again.
Simple components, beautifully presented.
Deep end first…
I really wasn’t sure how this game would work when I got it home. Card based race games are something I haven’t really come across before, so I was surprised at how simple and engaging it is.
The game includes 5 decks of beautifully illustrated cards that really bring the Norse theme to life. To build the race course there is a deck of land cards. These have different types of terrain and the cards are positioned next to each other to create the course. There are a pair of wooden ravens to represent the players. Then each player receives 2 further decks:
Flight cards – these cards can be drawn at the end of each turn and allow you to fly over specific types of terrain.
Loki cards – of course no Viking theme is ever truly complete without paying appropriate homage to the trickster. This is a much smaller deck of cards that allow you to make actions that can either benefit you or disadvantage your opponent. However, in keeping with the spirit of Loki, these cards can prove to be double edged swords in the long term, so need to be played with care.
The game uses card draws and limits on the number of cards you can hold to create depth. This forces you to make decisions around deck building to create the longest flights possible each turn and how you tackle ground you don’t have the right card to fly over.
Note on kids – the box recommends players are aged at least 8. Other than the rules there is no reading in the game, so with some support learning the rules a younger child can pick this up and be no less ruthless than any of the adults playing!
This game absolutely nails what quick games are about for me. Beautifully illustrated decks of cards that leverage the Norse mythology theme to give it a wonderfully rich narrative that doesn’t need to be spelt out. Combine the backdrop with competitive game play and the only thing I’m left wanting is for Odin to get a few extra ravens to bring more people to the table.
The verdict
Quick to learn – 2 reading and 2 play throughs.
Quick to set up – done before the kettle’s boiled.
Quick to play – off the shelf, on the table, play and back again within the hour.
Depth – interesting mechanics that let you explorer different tactics giving you a reason to come back for another try.
Sometimes it can be fun to really challenge yourself. This battle is between my rats and a flying themed nature army. I’m generally not too bothered by fliers or alpha strike armies, but there’s something about flying shamblers that just scares me. The ease with which they achieve flank and rear charges, combined with a rat defence of 4 means casualties stack up quickly. Still you’re not here to read my excuses, if indeed they are even required…
To the table. Loot. 1995 points.
Armies
The Fyrefur Clan
1 – Shock Troop horde with Plague Pot and Brew of Sharpness
2 – Warrior regiment
3 – Hackpaw regiment
4 & 5 – Vermintide regiment
6 – Tunnel Runner regiment with Caterpillar Potion
7 & 8 – Mutant Rat Fiend
9 – Old Mother Cinderpaw – Mother Cryza
10 – Demonspawn
11 – Bludjar – War Chief on Fleabag with Mournful Blade
Forces of Nature
1 – Salamander Prime horde with Brew of Sharpness
2 – Hunters of the Wild regiment with Chalice of Wrath
3 & 4 – Air Elemental regiment
5 & 6 – Air Elemental horde
7 – Great Water Elemental
8 – Druid with Tome of Darkness
9 – Gladewalker Druid
10 – Treeherder
11 – Unicorn with Boomstick
Set up
Turn 1
Old Mother Cinderpaw sniffed the air. Something vexed her. Some ancient riddle her olfactory senses were trying to unravel hung there, hiding in plain sight. There was a hint of sentience mixed with the sky, like a strand of thread that she instinctively knew should not be pulled because it led to… something. Someone? The only thing she was sure of was the malice and discontent within it.
The woodland was ancient. The trees were grey and bent, as though the weight of the world bore down on their arboreal shoulders. Moss and lichen grew heavily around their trunks and limbs like the cloaks of weary travellers. Mother Cinderpaw did her best to focus, but was distracted by little things, tiny movements, natural, but inconsistent. A breeze was growing to a wind; twigs and branches were starting to twitch, yet the direction of each movement indicated one was not the result of the other.
Around Cinderpaw the Fyrefur Clan’s expeditionary force clattered forward, ignorant of the old matriarch’s concerns. From the Tunnel Runners crushing undergrowth beneath their wheels to the Mutant Rat Fiends relentlessly trudging through whatever stood in front of them the subtleties silently slipped by. At this stage in their journey they believed the dangers, such as they had been, were behind them.
They had travelled from the Fyrefur tunnels, across the plains to these ancient woodlands in search of the shards. On the plains lived bandits. Tribes of horsemen, dwarf brock riders and fleabag riding goblins, sometimes all to be found in the same tribe, that made petty theft and thoughtless violence their way of life. But the individual tribes tended to be small, without the stomach or skill for a real fight. They made their living murdering lonely travellers and unguarded merchants, sometimes eating them, but always taking anything of value that remained. It was for this reason Cinderpaw had chosen an expeditionary force of the biggest and most imposing of the clan’s warriors. Intimidation. Time was of the essence. The shards were needed. She had neither time nor appetite to get mixed up with petty bandits, and her entourage was picked to make that message clear.
The shards lay in the West Woods. Three innocuous looking stones embedded in a lay line, staying out of the world’s business.
Cinderpaw had been informed the woods were deserted. Uninhabited by animal or spirit. Numerous Hackpaw and Scurrier missions to the woods had found where the shards lay. Not once had they reported any signs of life, or even movement. Not even a breeze.
The wind was whipping up. The trees’ twitching turned to increasingly larger jerking, twisting motions. The few remaining hairs on Cinderpaw’s neck raised. Trusting her instincts, she motioned to Bludjar and the Hackpaws to form battle lines. The clatter of the ratkin increased to a din of screeched orders and the hurried movement to face a threat that had yet to reveal itself.
As the Ratkin lines drew up, a hundred pairs of beady green eyes stared into the trees ahead. Slowly, where there had been nothing but background the forces of nature emerged. Mother Cinderpaw didn’t wait for the army to gain full substance. She saw an ancient Treeherder striding towards one of the shards and signalled the advance. Despite her enthusiasm to attack, the ratkin were unnerved by the strange force they faced and inched forward, with the exception of the Warriors opposite the Treeherder that sprinted forward. They eagerly claimed the first shard, hoping to drag it away from the clutches of the treeman. In her anger, mainly with her own forces’ reluctance to advance, Cinderpaw hurled a lightening bolt at the Druid, it wounded her, but no sooner had the wounds opened they closed, further infuriating the brood mother.
The forces of nature’s response was similarly muted, with the exception of the Treeherder and a regiment of Air Elementals that charged into the Warriors holding the first shard. Despite the onslaught the Warriors held their ground, although the rage of the mighty tree spirit left them cowering, and unable to strike back.
End of turn 1
Turn 2
The Hackpaws on the left flank loped forward trying to bait the nearest Air Elemental regiment into combat, but the spirits hovered silently out of reach. As the fleabag riders closed the gap, the elementals whipped themselves over the heads of the riders and landed to their flank, twisting as they came to ground. The Druid raised her arms and sent them surging in. Riders were thrown from mounts and scattered around the field. Job done, the elementals turned silently to face the Demonspawn.
As the Hackpaws had marched to their doom Warchief Bludjar decided it was time to lend his support to the centre of the field. He made his way towards the small clump of trees, skirting behind the Mutant Rat Fiend.
Seeing the first shard at risk of falling to the tree creature the Shock Troops smashed their plague pots and rushed forward. Knowing the size of the challenge they faced Cinderpaw cast Banechant on them, knowing they would need every advantage in the coming fight. Rusty blades swung, but the treeman held its own. Then, as if the sky itself took exception to the Shock Troops’ presence, the air around them erupted with mini hurricanes as a horde of Air Elementals whipped into their front. The Gladewalker Druid ran around the base of the hill as the Air Elemental regiment flew over the Warriors, turning to face the rear of the Shock Troops. In perfect symbiosis, the elementals didn’t even appear to stop moving as the Gladewalker raised its staff and surged them into the fray. The resulting slaughter sent a clear message to the rats – the shards were not to be touched.
End of turn 2
Turn 3
In the midst of the ruined riders and broken mounts that had once been the Hackpaws the Demonspawn saw an opportunity to finally get to grips with the evasive forest spirits. The beast leapt forward slashing at the Air Elements, dissipating their energy before turning to look along nature’s battle line. The caution of its advance abandoned, the unnatural beast let out a guttural, screeching roar that split rocks and announced it challenge, not just to the forces in front of it, but to nature itself.
On the right of the field the rats were starting to make some gains. The Vermintide charged into the Gladewalker hurting it, but not enough to kill it. The Mutant Rat Fiend barrelled into the front of the Air Elemental horde. Knowing that the horde had to be stopped Cinderpaw raised her staff and charged into its flank. The old witch had an aggressive energy that belied her bent and broken shape. She thrashed at the air spirits with all her might. The elementals were driven back and destroyed. Despite her rage, Cinderpaw continued to act with an apparent clarity of purpose. Seeing how the remaining regiment of Air Elementals was positioned Cinderpaw threw herself backwards, blocking the spirits from advancing on the Mutant Ratfiend, but leaving her flank exposed in the process. Desperate times, bitter experience had taught her, called for desperate measures.
It was now that the Greater Water Elemental made it’s presence felt, charging into the side of the Mutant Rat Fiend. But despite its advantage it was just not able to break the verminous abomination. The Air Elemental regiment faired less well against Cinderpaw, and the rat witch stared contemptuously at them, undaunted by their flailing, ethereal limbs. With a final sweep of a branch the Tree Herder cleared the last of the Warriors before turning to see the Gladewalker dart away from the Vermintide and seek shelter behind the Greater Water Elemental.
Back on the left flank the West Woods responded to the Demonspawn’s challenge. The Hunters of the Wild lurched from a standing start, throwing their limbs at the monster, whipping it with thorny fingers but making little more than scrapes and scratches on its patchwork body. As the Hunters of the Wild attacked, the Air Elementals turned and flew towards the ruined homestead that anchored their line. They drifted past the broken building and turned before a surge of magical energy picked them up and pushed them towards the flank of the Demonspawn, but the wave was not enough for them to reach the creature as it moved to strike back at the Hunters.
End of turn 3
Turn 4
The Demonspawn lashed out at the Hunters. Its aggression seemed to increase as the Mutant Rat Fiend smashed into the back of the regiment. The titans fed off each other’s destruction, tearing through the forest creatures, but somehow, for some reason (double 1) the Hunters simply refused to die and refused to run.
In the centre of the field the Vermintide made a grab for the second shard. As the rats swarmed over the stone the Unicorn unleashed a lightening bolt that rent the sky, and fell to ground directly onto the shard. Sparks and flame shot up as though the stone had exploded. In the heat and chaos the rats were incinerated instantly, leaving only the shard, still in its place, still cool to the touch.
On the right flank Bludjar and Cinderpaw charged the Treeherder in a final push to bring it to its knees, but the warlord’s blows failed to penetrate the treeman’s gnarled and knotted skin, whilst Cinderpaw’s blows simply weren’t enough.
The Mutant Rat Fiend charged the Air Elemental regiment, smashing at the spirits but failing to do significant damage, before the elementals swung back with their own driving blows. The Greater Water Elemental pondered its next move, weighing up the combats that surrounded it. Pushing the Gladewalker to one side it flowed smoothly towards Cinderpaw, surging the final few meters, before rising above the old broodmother and smashing down on her. The cold, bludgeoning blows of the elemental knocked her from her feet just as a strike from the treeman’s massive fist robbed her of her consciousness.
Seeing the verminous titans locked in combat with the Hunters the Air Elemental horde and Salamander Primes took the initiative, stealing rear charges into the fleshy constructs. Fresh and keen for blood the Salamanders made short work of the fiend, but the Air Elementals and the Hunters seemed slow and tired in comparison and the Demonspawn screeched defiance once again, preparing a brutal riposte.
Turn 5
The Demonspawn turned and attacked the elementals. Despite its size and raw power, heavy injuries had stolen its strength and what remained of its primal rodent brain now started to take control. Its blows fell wide of their target and its focus shifted to survival, and finding a way out of the fight.
As the Mutant Rat Fiend sunk to the ground the Salamanders reformed to face the Tunner Runners that had started to rumble towards them. Gathering speed and momentum the wheels crunched into the lizardmen. The reptilian ranks braced for impact using their shields and strength to limit the damage from the contraptions. Their co-ordinated response stopped the chariots dead in their tracks, turning them into sitting targets for the Salamanders to dismantle at their leisure.
On the right flank the treeman struck Bludjar, wavering the Warchief. The remaining Mutant Rat Fiend continued to pound at the Air Elemental regiment. They were now massively damaged, but somehow (double 1) they held on, locking the fiend in combat as the Greater Water Elemental surged into its flank, knocking it to the ground and carrying it from the battle field.
End of turn 5
As the dust settles
Due to a combination of time and a lack of rat units on the table we decided to call the game at that point. Whilst, on the surface this looked like a complete wash out I left the table feeling a lot happier than I was at the beginning of the game, believe it or not!
Breaking in a new force – for a number of reasons, I haven’t had the opportunity to play many games with rats in V3. The loss of Blight, new synergies and points changes have had a significant impact on my army and its dynamics. As a result I’m still very much getting to grips with how the army should work. I’m also trying out Tunnel Runners, which are new units for me. All this means I’m not as comfortable with how it all works together as I would like to be. Having faced this army before with the Brothermark I’m well aware of just how responsive it is and how easily flying shamblers can get into flanks. Whilst Air Elementals don’t have any enhanced strength skills, double or treble attacks at melee 3 against defence 4 quickly take their toll. If anything, this game really brought home the difference between defence 4 and 5 with Cinderpaw and the Demonspawn fairing well. In addition, flank and rear charges negate benefits from plague pots and ensnare, the other defensive tools at the rat’s disposal. In short this felt like a bad match up, but until the double 1s I felt I was fairing much better than I had expected.
Double 1s – I have no issues with double 1s as a mechanic and believe that most games can be salvaged. In this game the double 1s really came at the wrongest (don’t care, its a word now) of times, although shambling, nimble and fly make predicting quite what the elementals would have done had the Hunters and Air Elementals been finished off difficult to predict. The big take away from this was that removing the double 1s would have made a significant difference to what was on the table and given me more of a chance than I had expected of claiming a win.
Finding the extra mileage – one of the great things about writing these reports is stepping back through the battle with the benefit of hindsight and pictures. The Hackpaws and Warchief were definitely not in the best starting places. They could have achieved at least the same impact by being closer to the centre and likely played a greater role in the battle overall. For example, had the Warchief been placed more centrally its likely he would have joined the combat with the Gladewalker, likely removing a vital source of surge and limiting the impact of the Greater Water Elemental. Knowing where and why the army didn’t perform is a massive positive, because making those changes could have given me the extra mileage needed to overcome the double ones. Knowing where that extra mileage can be found puts me in a positive place going forward.
Rat of the match
This can only go to the Demonspawn. Surviving a rear and frontal charge is rare, so this is well deserved.
A lack of wargaming options over lockdown has led to me exploring other ways of getting a gaming fix. I’m really not a computer person, so video games were never going to be an option. My household is generally pretty busy, which ruled out big board games that take a while to get to grips with, let alone play from start to finish.
To that end I’ve been looking for what I’ve started to call quick games. To fit the bill they need to be:
Quick to learn – we must be able to understand the game mechanics within a couple of attempts.
Quick to set up – we must be able to get it out the box and ready to play by the time I’ve made a cup of tea.
Quick to play – it must be possible to go from deciding to play to back in the box on the shelf in around an hour.
There is also one more vital ingredient – depth. It needs to have something that will get the brain working and make you want to revisit it again and again.
For this review I’m looking at Carcassonne by Klaus-Jurgen Wrede, published through Z-MAN games.
According to the box it can be played in 35 minutes, they’ve sold a lot and its suitable for a wide range of ages (7+).
The set I’ve got includes the core game with three sets of additional rules and game pieces to play:
Fields
The River
The Abbot
Deep end first…
This is a fantastically straight forward, competitive, world builder. It’s for 2 to 5 players. It works well with 2, but definitely improves with the number of people around the table. The artwork is awesome and it’s an absolute joy to watch medieval cities, roads and monasteries grow in front of you.
The artwork is warm, making the game really inviting.
The scoring system is based on how big you can build your roads, your monasteries and your cities; and yes, there are opportunities to steal other peoples’ hard work (something no good world builder should be without).
The key to winning the game is completing cities (and not always your own), and the scoring mechanic makes it really interesting. As well as focusing on your own builds you might find yourself “helping” other players finish cities in the early part of the game to limit the points they can claim. As time runs down on the game you’re just as likely to “help” them grow their cities to stop them being completed before the end of the game, so destroying their value.
The extra rules that come with the set are great. They fit perfectly with the spirit of the game adding easily understood rules and extra tweaks that steadily increase depth. The rules for fields increase the value of cities further, whilst the River and the Abbot introduce more options into the game and slightly differently shaped meeple.
Note on kids – the box recommends players are aged at least seven. Other than the rules there is no reading in the game. With some support learning the rules a younger child can pick this up and be no less ruthless than any of the adults playing!
This game absolutely hits the brief as a quick game and punches heavily in the depth category. The box says more than 10 million games and expansions have been sold – I believe it. The cherry on top is definitely a large range of expansions, which I’m always partial too. I have a feeling it won’t be too long before some of them also find their way onto the Wizard’s Bookshelf.
Quick to learn? 2 readings of the rules and 2 play throughs.
Quick to set up? Less time than it takes to make a brew.
Quick to play? No more than an hour.
Depth? If it was a Wizard’s Hat there would be enough space to hide a kangaroo in it.
All in all it definitely does what is says on the box.
The last few games have been great fun, and an instant reminder of why I enjoy playing Kings of War. In another tentative step towards real(ish) life a friend and I have signed up for a tournament in October. The tournament is a 1,995 point event with a twist. There is a choice of three characters to add to the army. After perusing the tournament pack we decided at least one practice game was in order. Reviewing the character options we both opted for The Maiden, a healing character with Heal (5) and Radiance of Life. The scenario is Plunder.
Armies
Ratkin
1 – Shock Troop horde with Plague Pot and Brew of Sharpness
2 – Warrior regiment
3 – Hackpaw regiment
4 & 5 – Vermintide regiment
6 – Tunnel Runner regiment with Caterpillar Potion
7 & 8 – Mutant Rat Fiends
9 – Mother Cryza
10 – Scudku-z’luk, Demonspawn of Diew
11 – War Chief on Fleabag with Mournful Blade
14 – Cassandra – Maiden with Heal (5) and Radiance of Life
Cassandra brings some much needed cleansing to the Ratkin
Kingdoms of Men
1 – Foot Guard horde with Brew of Strength and Indomitable Will
11 – Army Standard Bearer with Lute of Insatiable Darkness
12 – Hero on Horse with Blade of Slashing
13 – The Captain on Horse
14 – Maiden with Heal (5) and Radiance of Life
The set up, Lockstone points and the realisation my pictures are all a bit shor
Turn 1
Cassandra had been born within the confines of the Oracle and had spent her entire life growing up there. Not once in the first fifty years of her life had she set foot outside of the building. Not once had she met or spoken with anyone who had not dedicated their life to the Oracle. She had lived in permanent exclusion with no thought of the benignities of everyday life. The Oracle was not a place for idle chatter, garish images or bad smells. Those selected to be there spent their lives in and out of visions and dreams, never quite sure where reality began and ended, or where the past separated from the future and the present. It was an existence like no other, to see everything, but understand nothing.
One day she returned to her room to find a white staff and purple surcoat waiting for her, laid out in the middle of the floor. She had heard these were the trappings of a questing augur; but had never seen or met one in all her time in the Oracle. She was not familiar with jokes, let alone practical ones, but quietly she wished the whole situation was intended to mislead her, briefly, before everything quickly returned to normal. Had she understood the concept of humour she also would have wanted this to be included.
With hesitation turning to trepidation she donned the surcoat and took up the staff. Her journey began.
Not once over the next six months, as she followed her visions, did she question what she had been sent to do. Faith in the greater good was the cornerstone of the Oracle and a way of life for its augurs. It was said the Oracle worked in mysterious ways and the last twenty four hours had made Cassandra really question just how mysterious those ways were. Especially now, as she stood by a crumbling wall surrounded by the stench and sound of ratkin readying for battle.
On the other side of the battlefield an army of men started its advance, a giant striding ahead of the lines. Cassandra couldn’t help but wonder if she was on the wrong side, but the visions had led her to Mother Cryza, given her the words of the broken rat tongue to offer aid, and protected her from the old broodmother’s accusations of spying and sabotage. Eventually there was acceptance and Cassandra joined the rat warriors on the field where the Lockstones lay.
She assumed the Lockstones were the reason she had been sent. It was clear from Cryza’s rants to her war leaders their recovery was important, but for what reason she didn’t know. The roar of a cannon brought her back to the present. The shot had landed somewhere to her left, instinctively she moved towards it, hating her instincts as she realised where her legs were taking her. Behind her fleabags snarled and leapt from the battle line towards the giant. Smashing into it in the hope of blocking it from causing chaos in the rat lines. The Vermintide regiments also moved forward, attempting to block the enemy from grabbing Lockstones.
The remainder of the army moved forward with the Mutant Rat Fiend on the left flank crossing in front of the Shock Troop horde towards the Pole-Arm Block.
End of turn 1
Turn 2
The giant swung its massive katana, slicing through riders and fleabags with ease, before trampling on those that remained. Beside the Giant the Foot Guard horde charged into the Vermintide sending the tiny rats scurrying back towards their larger cousins.
On the far left of the field the ratkin War Chief on his fleabag had made his way to the small wood hoping to attack the cannon. The Mounted Scouts and Hero spotted him and charged into the woods. The sly old War Chief smiled. He steered his mount into a thicker part of the wood and dodged between branches, using them to shield him from the blows of the cavalry.
On the hill the cannon fired again. The shot clipped Mother Cryza, the old brood mother barely winced, but she reached out to the War Chief ordering him to ignore the horsemen and remove the threat on the hill.
On the right the Mounted Scouts loosed a volley into the remaining Vermintide regiment, but failed to waiver them, instead the rats charged the horsemen in response.
The rapid demise of the Hackpaw regiment left the human army in a strong position with a solid centre and fast-moving regiments on the flank, ready to exploit any opportunities that presented themselves. Suddenly the pressure was on the Mutant Rat Fiend and the Demonspawn to make a move. Weighing their options the creatures seemed to act in graceless unison, lumbering towards the Giant, hoping to bring it down; or at the very least buy time for the Shock Troops to deal with the Foot Guard without the Giant flanking them. Seeing the titans make a move the Tunnel Runners also decided it was time to join the fray. The right flank was starting to dissolve. Whilst the Vermintide were locked in a tit for tat exchange with the Mounted Scouts and the titans had moved to the centre, the Tunnel Runner regiment was suddenly left alone facing a horde of Pikemen, a Pole-Arm Block, a Mammoth and a Knight regiment. The chariots made for the Pole-Arm Block hoping to hold up the Mammoth and Knights for a turn. It was a risky move as the Pole-Arm regiment was hunkered down behind a wall that hindered the chariot’s charge. Unfortunately for the men the wall was not as sturdy as they had hoped. The chariots shattered the wall in front of them turning stones into missiles that flew through the neat ranks. Blades and metal rollers followed quickly, taking their toll, leaving the few survivors running for their lives from the dusty confusion. In the aftermath of the charge the charioteers turned to face the Mammoth, happy their chances of survival had now greatly improved.
Cassandra made her way to the rear of the Shock Troop horde. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she listened to angry chittering. Some helpful, fleeting spirit gave her understanding, as the leader of the Shock Troops berated the lumbering Mutant Rat Fiend that had crossed their front preventing them moving forward far enough to charge the Foot Guard. It was an error that the veteran warrior knew could cost the Ratkin dearly, even if the titans could take down the Giant.
Mother Cryza and the other Mutant Rat Fiend charged the remaining Pole-Arm Block regiment. The injured Brood Mother wasn’t keen to join the melee, but mistakes in how the army had deployed were starting to show and the initiative had to be regained if the Lockstones were to be claimed. Whilst ancient in years the broodmother’s wrath was fresh and keen, alongside the mighty mutant, she swung her staff, lashing deftly at soldiers, utterly destroying the little threat to her they had ever represented.
In the woods the War Chief continued to dodge blows and duck between branches. The cannon was still his target, but one does simply not ride away from a bunch of angry horsemen determined to cut you in half. Steadying himself he saw an opportunity, a poor blow from the Hero meant the man’s sword became tangled in some vines and the rider became a barrier to the Mounted Scouts. Seizing the moment, the rat spurred his fleabag out of the woods and up the hill towards the cannon. Unfortunately, the energy required to leave the combat and charge the cannon was too great, and whilst his blows wavered the gun crew he was unable to stop them completely.
In the centre the struggle between the titans continued. The giant’s size belied its nimbleness and discipline as it smoothly blocked and dodged the great blows of the giant rat beasts. The beasts’ gamble had not paid off and the Demonspawn knew they would pay dearly.
End of turn 2
Turn 3
The Mounted Scouts on the right flank remained locked in combat with the rats. In the ranks of the charioteers there were was a moment of relief as they realised that their success had not only allowed them to turn to receive a charge, but had effectively locked up the Knights, meaning only the Mammoth could get at them. The ground shock as the mammoth started its inevitable charge, but the short distance stopped the beast from gathering too much momentum and resulted in the chariots being wavered rather than wiped out in a brutal blur of tusks and stomping feet.
In the centre the horns of the Foot Guard sounded a charge. The troops wheeled neatly before raising their swords and smashing into the flank of the Mutant Rat Fiend. The Giant took the opportunity to step back from the monstrosity and focus all its energy on the Demonspawn. Caught in the flank by so many determined attackers, the Mutant Rat Fiend slowly succumbed to their repeated blows. Despite taking massive damage at the hands of the Giant, against all odds, the Demonspawn managed to survive, and steady itself, ready to deliver its own blows.
On the right flank the mounted Hero turned his horse to face the hill. He saw the War Chief slashing at the cannon and took the opportunity to charge the distracted rat. The hero’s lance hit home, but barely scratched the ugly rat warrior that looked up from its destruction of the cannon and sneered, before returning to finish the job.
The Mounted Scouts sneaked further into the woods. Without the rats noticing they had already managed to recover two of the smaller Lockstones. Happy with their work they sent a volley of arrows into the nearby warrior regiment, but failed to do anything significant other than alert them to their presence.
The Captain watched the battle unfold, happy with progress until he noticed Mother Cryza, surrounded by the dead bodies of his Pole-Arm Block turning her twisted attention on the Mounted Scouts in the woods. Without a second thought he flicked his visor shut on his helmet, drew his sword and spurred his horse. He crashed into the old broodmother who twisted out the way of his attack before swinging back with her staff. The old rat witch did little damage, but he felt a poisonous chill run down his spine simply from being in her presence. He felt his energy ebb, but refused to give into whatever it was making him feel that way and raised his sword for another attack.
Cassandra had put some distance between herself and the fighting. The noise, the blood and the violence had shocked her, driving her back in revulsion and forcing her to question why she had been chosen to support the vile Ratkin. At that moment a warm tingle spread over her. It calmed her racing mind and centred her warring thoughts. Her eyes were drawn toward the injured Mother Cryza battling the Captain. For a moment she no longer saw the vicious, twisted sorcerer, but instead she saw her as a matriarch, a mother, a protector of her children. Cassandra reached out towards her and felt the wounds heal. She closed her eyes.
On the hill the War Chief once again dodged away from the Hero and rained another volley of blows on the cannon and its cowering crew. Watching the mighty rat seem to ignore their Hero convinced the crewmen they had only two ways to escape the beast, by running or dying, they chose the former.
In the woods the rat Warriors charged the mounted scouts but failed to hit them as they fought around trees and thrust swords between branches. In the centre the ratkin were starting to fight back. The death of the Mutant Rat Fiend made the Demonspawn redouble its efforts against the giant. A last desperate attempt for survival saw the Demonspawn grab the Giant’s sword, snap the blade off and ram it into the titan’s neck. As the giant sank to the ground the Shock Troop horde took heart, and with the remaining Mutant Rat Fiend, smashed into the Foot Guard routing them after only a brief exchange of blows.
End of turn 3
Turn 4
Despite its victory against the Giant, the Demonspawn was clearly suffering. The leader of the Pikemen horde took his opportunity and ordered the drummer to sound the charge. The Pikemen marched forward spearing the injured titan, forcing it to the ground.
On the right flank the Mounted Scouts killed the last of the Vermintide whilst the Mammoth overturned the remaining rat wheels and stomped on them for good measure. Finally, the Knights were able to bring their lances to the support of their comrades, but was it too late? On the left the Mounted Scouts drew back from the rat Warriors and fired off another volley that chipped away at their ranks whilst the heroes on the hill continued to exchange blows.
Cassandra’s eyes remained closed, the warmth blanketed her and in her mind she saw the battlefield. She knew what she saw was not the real field of nightmares and destruction, but a cleansed and sanitised illusion, that projected the rats as noble crusaders saving the world from demons disguised as men. She reached towards the warriors, arrows melted out of existence and flesh knitted together. The Warriors charged the Scouts once again. Once again they were hindered by the trees that prevented a decisive end to the skirmish.
The Shock Troops and Mutant Rat Fiend continued their destructive trail across the field dodging between pikes to deliver killing blows. As the last of the pikemen fell to the dirt the Shock Troop’s momentum carried them up the hill and onto a Lockstone that the troopers dragged from the ground and presented to their leader. Happy the giant rock would bring him favour with Mother Cryza he turned his attentions to the Mammoth heading in their direction, hungry for his next trophy.
End of turn 4
Turn 5
The Mammoth started to run, lowering its tusks, before snapping its head back and driving them towards the Mutant Rat Fiend. The mutant twisted away from the sharp spears of ivory, dodging one but finding itself skewered on the other. As the monsters struggled the Mounted Scouts cantered to the site of another Lockstone.
On the left flank the broken combat continued between the Scouts and the rat Warriors. Worried that the rats would eventually gain the upper hand the Captain broke from his combat with Morther Cryza and charged into the rear of the warriors, hoping to break the deadlock, but to no avail.
In her altered state Cassandra reached out again, healing the warriors before their next round of combat. Free of the Captain’s attentions Mother Cryza made her way to the centre of the field and pulled the last of the Lockstones free and placed it in a shoulder bag, before raising her staff and casting Bane Chant on the Shock Troops rushing to the Mutant Rat Fiend’s aid.
The Shock Troops charged into the flank of the Mammoth as it tussled with the mighty mutant. There was no grace in the Shock Troop’s fighting, but its effectiveness was without question and soon they turned to face the remaining cavalry. It was then that the Shock Troop’s leader noticed the Lockstone the Scouts had recovered. He chittered nervously as he realised it was significantly bigger and shinier than his. He cursed, realising he had recovered the wrong one.
End of turn 5
Turn 6
With the Captain unable to distract the rat Warriors in their pursuit of the Mounted Scouts he pulled away from the combat and moved to a position where he could ensure the horsemen held under his stern view.
The Hero on the hill finally cut down the War Chief, emboldened by his triumph he charged into Mother Cryza, but failed to force her to drop her Lockstone. On the right flank the Shock Troops drew back, the Mounted Scouts were preparing to leave, and the knights would easily block them if they tried to chase them. Better to hold on to what they had.
In the woods there was a muffled thud as Cassandra fell to the ground exhausted. The battle was over.
End of turn 6
After the dust settles
Victory went to Kingdoms of Men scoring 4 points against 3 for the Ratkin. This was a great game that highlighted the importance of remembering which token you put where. It was also a game where the woods on the rat’s left flank played a massive part, so let’s get into a couple of post-game observations:
Use terrain to your advantage – both the rats and the men used the woods to protect units. The War Chief sheltered in them on his way to the cannon so if he was charged, which he was, attacks would be at -1 to hit. The Mounted Scouts later took advantage of the woods by backing away from the warriors and shooting. As the scouts backed out of the woods the rat warriors had to make new charges meaning they were repeatedly hitting on sixes. This minimised the damage the warriors could do, especially important as the Lockstones the scouts carried reduced their speed and removed their nimble limiting their options to flee.
Remember which tokens have which points – whilst I remembered to play the scenario, I forgot where I placed the second 2 point objective (yes I did place it). Consequently, when my Shock Troops picked up their objective I was convinced it was worth 2 points, it wasn’t until the end of turn 5 I realised it wasn’t and then, even with a 7th turn it was too late to do anything. At that point my only hope was to kill the Mounted Scouts fighting my rat Warriors, but my opponent’s skillful use of the woods made this all but impossible.
Capitalise on the chaff – I stand by my decision to move the Mutant Rat Fiend across the front of the Shock Troops, the redeployment had to happen as, in retrospect, my deployment of these units was wrong. However, by doing this the Shock troops were unable to capitalise on the sacrifice of the Vermintide which would have fundamentally altered the flow of combat in the centre.
Cassandra – The Maiden offered an interesting additional dimension to the army by providing healing support. This turned out to be invaluable for keeping the rat Warriors in the fight in the wood and Mother Cryza refreshed, not something I’m used to. I’m not sure this will convince me to explore Broodmothers for this army build, although I do want to try more of a grinding rat build in the near future. But I think I have a good idea of how she fits into my force ahead of the tournament.
Rat of the Match
The Tunnel Runners – this is a new troop type for me, having only used them for three games, but I’m very impressed with their speed, attacks and how they complement the rest of my force. In this case they excelled. I had not expected them to destroy the Pole arm block, let alone go on to withstand the Mammoth’s charge. Essentially taking the Knights out of the game was just a rat flavoured cherry on top of a furry cup cake.
The Wizard's Bookshelf 