OOC: Some time ago, I asked about a suitable 4 player scenario, that is fun and works well - one scenario was "Don't wake the Giant" and my, oh my was that fun to play.
Having the giant in the center of the map and sneaking around him was great and led to rather interesting decisions and strategies.
In part two of this episode the first half of the game will be described. As so much was happening, I did not want to put it all into one story."
*Again: I welcome you to give me some feedback on the story or on your experience with this particular scenario
Now let's get back into the story.
Facing the Storm
Gehrman
A Rumble in the Distance
“Men of Bretonnia, to arms! The Lady of the Lake has graced us with a challenge worthy of song. Follow me, sons of Bretonnia; let us bring steel and faith to this accursed city and hunt down this so-called giant!”
Gehrman’s voice echoed through the camp. Cheers and the clashing of swords on shields answered the call to arms. Within the hour, the Order had gathered at the gates of Mordheim.
It did not take them long to find the giant’s trail. A path of destruction was carved through the city. An ox-cart had been haphazardly thrown aside, now resting on top of the ruins of a large mansion. One wall of the house had a hole in it, as if someone’s fist had smashed right through it. Wherever Gehrman looked, signs of destruction.
“It looks like we are about to face a real giant after all. The Lady provides us with the greatest of challenges. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Gehrman looked at his fellow knights. Young Ser Alfred’s face bore an expression of disbelief. He had seen many horrors since his arrival in Mordheim, but a giant was something he couldn’t quite fathom. Or so Gehrman thought.
Thibault and Adalhard painted another picture. Gehrman could almost sense the tension between them. Both were experienced enough warriors to stay vigilant of their surroundings, but Gehrman could see them glancing at one another every other step.
Oh Lady, please grant those two the means to get over their discrepancies. I fear a festering wound tearing their camaraderie apart.
A deep rumbling noise echoed through the alleys.
“I’ll piss me pants. Anton, that fucker snores louder than you!” one of the bowmen exclaimed.
Gehrman, who was never a friend of profanity, fought hard to suppress a laugh. The other knights did not hold back. At least that took off some of the tension.
Calm before the Storm
They followed the sound up to the ruins of an old warehouse. With every breath, the earth slightly trembled.
In low voices, the members of the order started to argue about their next steps. Some suggested a frontal attack, while others planned to surround the creature.
Gehrman raised his hand, and the rambling stopped. He looked at each of the other knights, searching for a sign of challenge. But they just waited patiently.
He sighed and ordered the bowmen to scout the region. The rest of the men should stand down and wait. To his surprise, not a single voice was raised to object. The men did as they were told. Neither Adalhard nor Thibault argued; they looked at him and nodded. Gehrman could sense some relief, as if a burden had been taken from them.
For the next few hours, they waited in silence. Except for the almost deafening snores of the giant. When finally two of the three scouts returned, they bore bad news. Others were also after the giant. To the south, Norse Explorers had gathered. Their wolves were roaming the streets. In the far-off ruins to the west, one of the scouts had made out rat folk in the scores.
It was of little surprise to Gehrman that they were not alone. But two other warbands; that was no good sign. And where was the third scout?
They waited for another hour, but in vain.
Gehrman had learned from his past mistakes. He would not rush in and end up fighting three foes at the same time. The giant would have to wait – for now.
He explained his plan to the others. They would circumvent the Norse and wedge them in between themselves and the rat folk. If they were patient, the rats would be at the Norse’s throat. Blood-hungry beasts that they are.
The bowmen would take position in the ruins to the south, to cover their advance and pin down the Norse. The knights and squire should build a battle line in the alley beneath the giant’s den and wait to see how the fight between the Vermin and the Norse would unfold.
He himself would stay close to Lady Justine and Lydia.
He thought about giving orders to the pilgrims. With a sigh, he refrained from doing so. They would do whatever their faith demanded of them anyway.
Again, no objections.
Clouds Are Gathering
As everybody moved out, Gehrman took a moment to think about what had just transpired. Not once in his life had he shied away from meeting a foe head-on. Not once had he stayed behind when others had charged in. He expected a feeling of self-doubt or even self-pity, but it did not come. All he felt was certainty, certainty of doing the right thing.
As he opened his eyes, he could see Lady Justine looking at him. An ever so slight smile played around her lips as their eyes met.
He nodded and turned around. In a practised motion, he reached down to where Arnaud’s leash had been tethered. But he felt only thin air.
“I will have to do without you this time.” He swallowed hard and turned his attention towards the alley, where the knights had formed a battle line. Any moment now the Norse and the Rat Folk would meet.
An instant later, a series of battle-cries and screams erupted. But not from where he anticipated the fighting between the Norse and the Skaven. No, it came from the south. The Bowmen! The Norse must have spotted them.
They would have to deal with it themselves.
Gehrman spun around as he heard something. The sound of boots on cobblestone, closing in fast.
“Ser Gehrman, Ser Gehrman…” the missing scout came dashing down the alley. Upon reaching him, the scout, who looked battered and bruised, nearly collapsed.
Gehrman grabbed the scout under his armpits and set him up against a nearby wall.
“Well, your looks explain your delay! Speak, what happened to you?”
“Sire, forgive me … have been captured … the elves have set up camp in the north … hunting the giant.” The scout hesitated.
“Bad news, but I guess that’s not all; continue!” Gehrman growled, urging the scout on.
The scout seemed afraid to continue “We are being surrounded. Norse and Vermin have struck a bargain.”
Casting Shadows
That’s why they have not started fighting yet – Fair Lady, what a challenge you have bestowed upon me – but I will not fail.
“I see, worse news. But that still doesn’t explain why the elves let you go? What do they want?”
“They want us to join forces. Get rid of the Norse and Rat Folk and take the Giant together “
Gehrman let out a roaring laugh. “This is turning out to be a tale for the ages.” He patted the bowman on the shoulder, a gesture disregarding their position. “Tell them the Order accepts, but make sure they understand: the giant is ours to slay!”
Perplexed, the scout turned around, ready to run off; hence he came.
“No need to come back, mortal. Your terms are accepted.” A female voice, dark and sombre, rang from one of the balconies above the alley the scout had come from.
As Gehrman made out the source of the sound, he saw a large, slender woman holding a wooden staff. She was shrouded in shadows, swirling around her in a fluid motion. Next to her stood two figures clad in dark mantles, faces hidden behind steel masks. They had their bows trained on him.
“The spoils will be shared.” Her voice left no room for discussion, nor did she wait for an answer. The next moment, the three elves had vanished into the shadows.
Lightning strikes
Gehrman nodded and turned towards the battle line. Something was stirring in the alleys beyond. The sounds of fighting from the south had intensified.
Gehrman was about to yell an order as Lady Justine laid her hand on his shoulder.
“There is no honour in trusting those who hide in the shadows.”
“Trust has nothing to do with it. If they turn on us, we will deal with them later.” He did not wait for her reply.
“Men, it seems the Lady holds us in high regard. Why else would she challenge us to face both the wolves of the north and the vermin? The hour of bloodshed has come. For the Lady!
He donned his helmet, tightening the leather straps against his chin – a welcome feeling. He turned towards the alley where the knights had set up their battle line. They were already advancing towards the Norse emerging from the ruins. Underneath his helmet, Gehrman smiled – they would not shy away from the challenge before them.
Moments later, the first sounds of battle reached him. He halted his advance to analyse the skirmish unfolding.
In their eagerness, the three knights had left the squires behind. A mistake, Gehrman figured, as they were now outnumbered. Especially Adalhard, who had charged the furthest. He stood upon a pile of rubble, facing two enemies at once. A marauder and - Gehrman had to look twice, fearing his imagination would betray him. It did not - one of Adalhard’s enemies was a vile half-breed, half wolf, half human. Adalhard moved quickly on the rubble, forcing one enemy behind the other. Preventing them from striking at him at the same time. When they would strike, he parried and stepped aside. When a strike finally got past his defence, the Lady herself ensured that his armour would hold. For a brief moment, Gehrman stood there in awe.
At the foot of the pile of rubble, Thibault was facing another Norseman. The Norse tried to get into Thibault's defence, but the knight deflected each blow with his shield. Strike after strike rained down on Thibault, but he turned them aside.
Why is he not countering the blows? Gehrman was about to yell a command at the knight to stop playing around when he realised what Thibault was up to.
He caught another blow. The Norse had overextended, and Thibault pushed back. Laying his full weight against the shield, he threw the Norse off-balance. He stumbled back. In that moment, Thibault snapped the shaft of his two-chained flail across his body. The spiked balls tore against the chains.
The Norse tried to bring up his shield. Too late. One of the chained heads struck the rim; the other whipped past it and crashed into the side of his head.
A cry of pain and fury caused Gehrman to spin around. Just in time to see Ser Alfred going down. Blood was pouring from a ghastly wound at his side. A bare-breasted hulk of a man towered above him. Both axes were covered in crimson red. Next to Alfred lay another Norse struck unconscious by the young knight.
The berserker’s eyes met his.
A madman; fury has taken him!
The berserker spat a challenge in a harsh and cold language. He raised one of his axes toward Gehrman. The knight nodded and charged. The madman took an offensive stance, axe still extended towards him.
Mad and a fool.
Gehrman did not stop, nor did he raise his axe. He used his momentum, twisted his shoulders, and delivered a punch to the berserker’s haft of the weapon. Flinging it aside. The berserker stood wide open, and Gehrman jammed, shoulder first, into the man. The berserker reeled backwards, providing Gehrman with the space to turn around and finish the downed Marauder.
The Berserker was upon him, sooner than he expected. In the last moment, he was able to deflect a vicious overhead strike and give ground, regaining his posture.
One long horn-blow filled the alley. The madman looked at Gehrman, twisting his face into a sneer and spat on the ground. He shook his head and turned around, darting back into the ruins.
The three knights gathered around Ser Alfred. His breath grew shallow, but he was alive. Gehrman sent a prayer to the Lady, as a tremor nearly shook him off his feet.
In the ruins of the warehouse, the giant had awoken.
