Sunday 13 March 2011

Throndin’s Enormous Throng

Kraznik Ironbeard grumbled to himself as he hurried along the ridgeway path looking for Thrum Greymane. Why had the old fool chosen today to go wandering off in the foothills? Why wasn’t he back at the hold with the rest of the Clan? That way Kraznik could be checking his armour and making his farewells to his family rather than hunting half-way across the Grey Mountains for him.
He rounded an outcrop and slowed his pace as he approached two seated Dwarfs- after all he was Captain of the Clan Groznog Hammerers and had his dignity to maintain. Neither of the figures ahead of him was Greymane, but they should be able to at least help him locate the errant Dwarf.
The two Dwarfs were deep in contemplation and puffing furiously on pipes and so didn’t hear the Hammerer approach.
“So when you’ve got it in a tight grip” the older of the two was explaining “you take a firm hold of the haunches and…”
Kraznik cleared his throat. The two leaped to their feet as if they’d sat on a hot steam plate.
“Captain Kraznik!” the younger Dwarf exclaimed, blushing furiously “We didn’t hear you, sir!”
“Evidently not. Young Blundin Thringg isn’t it?” The Dwarf nodded, his face as red as his jacket.
“I was just explaining to this beardling how to…er…milk, that’s it, milk a goat, sir” interjected the older Dwarf.
“Were you now, Drim Copperhead?” the Hammerer raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are the two of you doing out here?”
“We came for a walk with Thrum Greymane, Captain. Get some fresh air, that kind of thing…” the old Dwarf tailed off
“And where is Greymane, I need to speak with him” Kraznik demanded
Blundin opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a cry of pain.
“Sorry beardling, was that your foot?” Drim enquired with a meaningful stare.
“He’s just gone for a… er… walk, sir” the older Dwarf continued.
Just then a strange cry split the air. The Hammerer instinctively reached for the weapon strung across is back.
What in the name of Grungni was that?” he cried
“What was what?” asked Copperhead
“That terrible noise you fool, or are you deaf as well as foolish? It sounded like a goat, but a goat in some distress” The Hammerer scanned the direction from which the sound ad emerged. Suddenly Drim went rigid and, pointing in the opposite direction, yelled “TROLL!” at the top of his lungs.
Kraznik span around, hammer at the ready seeking out the deadly foe.
“Oh no, it’s just a rock. Silly me” said Drim Copperhead.
Kraznik was just about to launch into a tirade at the older Dwarf when the bushes behind him parted and a dishevelled looking Dwarf emerged.
“Right then Thringg, your tur…oh, hello Ironbeard, fancy meeting you here”
The new arrival looked flustered and out of breath
“Greymane, at last” barked the Hammerer “Where have you been?”
“Well, er…I…that is…er…”
“Look, never mind that now” Kraznik continued “Throndin has called out the Throng! Gather your men together, we march at dawn! To WAR!”
His message delivered Kraznik Ironbeard turned on his heel and set off back the way he had come.
“Oh, and don’t forget to fasten your trousers before you go see Throndin” he called back over his shoulder.

This is the background what I wrote for my Dwarf army that I took to the winter Throne of Skulls Tournamanet a couple of months ago.
And here are the models (click for bigger and better pics):

Lord Throndin Groznog




Army Standard Bearer Grimm Grobismite


Runesmith Krut Goldseek
The Clan Groznog Warriors 

The Groznog Thunderers

The Groznog Quarrelers

The Groznog Venerables 

Throndin’s Hammers 

Steely Dan

Moriz’s Miners 




The Leveller 




Turn Counter


I came last out of the assembled Dwarf players (all four of us) but had five very pleasant games of WFB. Despite all wailing and gnashing of teeth from th'interweb comunity about the Powerscroll Spam, Magic Dominated, cheese-fest of uncomped 8th edition  I didn't see or hear of a single power scroll and most of the armies seemed pretty balanced and sensible. I was however pretty disapointed with the numebr of participants and the standard of painting, both of which seemed lower than the old GW GT's.

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