Author Topic: A Tilean Campaign (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)  (Read 13007 times)


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Re: A Tilean Campaign (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)
« Reply #120 on: July 03, 2017, 11:20:59 PM »
I'm working on a website.


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Re: A Tilean Campaign (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)
« Reply #121 on: July 11, 2017, 07:36:26 PM »
Some amazing magic has been done to this thread on the Oldhammer forum, and they have replaced all the pictures. You can see the fully repaired thread at

If, however, you want to read the slowly re-growing, 'improved' version of the campaign (in which I am editing all the posts for grammar, spelling etc) then take a look at

This campaign will not die!


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Re: A Tilean Campaign (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)
« Reply #122 on: July 13, 2017, 04:04:27 PM »
The Church of Nagash

Near Viadaza, northern Tilea, Spring 2403

The graveyards were empty, the tombs bereft of bones. Viadaza had been harvested of all that could be made undead many months before, upon Lord Adolfo’s command. Yet once again the city swarmed with the vampires’ servants, an army of animated warriors with or without rotting flesh, having this time marched upon the city rather than arisen within it. There had been no shortage of corpses after the battle at Ebino to swell the shambling horde, which meant Biagino, craving followers for his new Church of Nagash, had been generously provided for. He arrived at the city with quite a congregation – not only the select servants of La Fraternita di Morti Irrequieti, but also the wild mob of his Disciplinati di Nagash. He had also been gifted the famous Cattedrale di Morr Re, which sat in its extensive grounds a little way north-east of the city walls. All this he received with a degree of satisfaction, but he knew it was not enough. If his church was to thrive, if Nagash was to be fed by its prayers and so return his blessings, then there was one more, (quite literally) vital thing he needed. Hopefully, Viadaza would provide.

As he waited before the castle-like front of the Cattedrale, he was accompanied by a cluster of servants.

Several zombies staggered hither and thither about their labours, lifting or dragging the last pieces of debris away so that the grassy space was almost pristine. Biagino’s guards and attendants, however, were silent and, for the most part, motionless. Three red-robed brothers stood in prayerful contemplation. They possessed a serenity which sometimes concealed their deep wickedness and at other times gave it a sharper edge. For now, they merely waited.

The first of Biagino’s Disciplinati was also present, his head a battered mess of misshapen bone and torn flesh, his hands disfigured by their size, somehow both swollen and emaciated at one and the same time, the splayed fingers elongated beyond their natural length. He still wore the dedicant’s robes he had been captured in, bar the gloves, of course.

Biagino had intended to turn this man into one of his Fraternita thralls, as he had done with several of those who had been captured alive, but in a fitful moment of uncontrolled bloodlust during the enspelling he had gone a tad too far and accidentally killed the man. Not wanting to waste the corpse, he chose instead to re-animate it. When he saw what resulted he decided there and then to form his Disciplinati di Morr, a huge mob of crazed un-corpses who would serve, as they had in life, as bloodthirsty dedicants, footsoldiers for his church, while his Fraternita would be his priests, clerks and lieutenants.

Apart from the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the faint sound of grunting and groaning from the foul mob contained within the cattedrali’s cloistered quadrangle, all was quiet on the tree-lined green.

Biagino had been waiting for another of his servants, a captain of his skeletal body-guard, to arrive. While he did so, he gave his mind up to the powerful swirl of gleeful desires born of his vampiric lusts, suffusing him thoroughly, and conjoining with the winds of magic animating his frame. He felt a surge building and allowed it to pour outwards, feeding all those around him and amplifying the eerie sound issuing from within the walls behind him.

Then something bright caught his eye and he realised the captain was already present - sunlight reflecting from the curved blade of the captain’s ancient war scythe. 

“What news, captain?” Biagino demanded. “How many? And are they coming?”

The captain responded immediately, yet neither by movement nor sound. His answer was without words, for he knew not the modern tongue and had no tongue to speak it. It was contained in a thought, or rather the echo of a thought, which washed through Biagino’s mind with cruel clarity.

They are coming, but it will be some time yet. There are not many, less than a hundred.

“So few?”

The city is almost empty. All the rest have fled.

“Which means I get the slow, the foolish and the unlucky?”

They live.

“Yes,” said Biagino. “At least they are alive. And they must stay that way until they have yielded unto Nagash all that they can – every anguished prayer and fearful misery. I will turn their screams into hymns, their cries into plainsong. Their torment will be delicious as their suffering sates our lord’s hunger.”

He thought of the blood he would take from them in their last moments. It would be a meagre nourishment, like thin gruel, but in great quantity. This in turn stirred in him the ancient hunger, a distraction he refused to yield to.

“It seems we have time on our hands,” he said. “We shall put it to good use and further prepare this temple for its unholy purpose. I will have it made ready before the worshippers arrive.”

Biagino turned to the first of his Disciplinati.

“It is time for your brothers to begin the vapouring,” he declared. Then he looked upon the three Fraternita.

“Bring the tome,” he ordered. One of the red-robed thralls stepped forwards to proffer said book.

Biagino made a sign over the book and gave a short prayer in the classical Reman tongue: “In virtute Nagash, non somnus, non requiem.”

The thrall then opened the book to a page marked by a finger bone and turned it around to allow Biagino to read its ancient text. He did so, aloud, intoning the words with exaggerated expression, an almost mocking tone. Allowing the etheric breeze to penetrate him deeply, to coalesce and swirl through and about his mind, he summoned his Disciplinati.

For a few moments only his shrill voice could be heard, but then another sound joined it, not one but many voices. They were wordless, first groans and moans, then guttural cries and growls. Biagino turned to look at the trees to his left. The others did the same …

… and he cried out, “There! My bambini. See how they run!”

They poured from the catedrale, their pace frantic, their arms outstretched, still part-clothed in the ragged remains of their Morrite robes.

“Ha!” laughed Biagino. “Look at them! They have not forgotten, but now they dance for Nagash!”

The Disciplinati cavorted onwards, forming a long column. Some carried the weapons they had died with …

… while others ran empty handed.

Wild they ran, barely balanced, as if falling ever forwards, each step made just in time to prevent a tumble.

Some wore the red or grey hoods of Morrite flagellants, others were topped with matted, ragged hair, while many were bald and bloody.

As they emerged from behind the trees onto the open space, their course began to alter.

The crazed column began to curve across the front of the catedrale, to commence its circumnavigation of the grounds.

Just as they had done at Ebino, when they hurtled pell-mell around the holy carroccio, they now did the same here, so that their clamourous cavorting might sanctify the catedrale. This time, however, they served a different god.

The Church of Nagash was truly re-born!
Remember, to see the whole campaign, with re-instated pictures, please go to, or to see the WIP (slowly being rebuilt) version, visit my website at


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Re: A Tilean Campaign (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)
« Reply #123 on: October 04, 2017, 01:34:18 PM »
The end of Spring, IC2403

1. A New Scripture for the Enlightened. Chapter 14, The Devoted of Palomtrina

It came to pass in the Spring of that year that the righteous of Palomtrina arose, after the last of the desert men had departed, and this multitude did cry out and promise themselves to Morr, desiring to be holy in his eyes, for they feared the imminent arrival of the undead and the brutes. Vallerius is the name of he who led them, their shepherd. And they did name themselves Morr’s Devoted. And their shepherd commanded them that they offer a sacrifice to the Lord Morr, which they did, putting off all their ornaments, burning and destroying utterly all the dainty works they had amassed, yielding their worldly wealth, offering up every gold and silver bauble they possessed unto the holy church. After which, the people lifted up their voices and wept with joy.

But they knew not that the chief among them, Shepherd Vallerius, was false, and through greed sinned against the Lord Morr, taking what he pleased from that which the Devoted had offered, diminishing its value greatly and concealing that which he had taken. And still his greed was not sated, so he spake unto them and bore false witness, revealing that the Lord Morr had visited his dreams, and he beguiled them with his words, and he revelled in their admiration, and his pride swelled unbounded. He commanded that they slay all those who had tended to the desert men before they departed, be they the innkeepers who had fed them …


… or merely their servants, even the children.

And he commanded them to show no mercy to those men who had traded goods with them …

… and to slay all the women who had known the desert men, then to plunder all that these people possessed, gifting the spoil to the leaders of the Devoted, that they might use it to procure arms and armour for the holy war. In their fury and fervour, the Devoted did shed the blood of the innocent, stoning them with stones and burning them with fire, and utterly destroying them, man and woman, child and infant, not knowing that those things the shepherd had accused the people of were not sins in the eyes of Morr. And their hands were filled with blood. Yet they showed no mercy, despite the pleading of those they slew. And when the righteous priests tried to teach them the error of their ways, and were wroth with them, they did even slay them.

And they did spoil and plunder even as their prey lay dying, taking ox and sheep and ass, and all the goods they had stored, and all that was good in their eyes.

And when they gave thanks their prayers were in earnest, and they cried out for guidance that they might know what they should now do.

Holy Morr looked upon them and knew them to be his Devoted, despite that they were lied to by their false Shepherd. He knew that they had not forsaken him, though they were a trouble unto him. They were made unclean not of themselves, but by he who misled them, yet they could be made clean, ceasing to do all evil. And so Morr visited the shepherd in dreams, and troubled his spirit. And when the sleep broke from him the shepherd knew what must come to pass thereafter, and he was astonied, and at first knew not what to do, for the dream did make him afraid. So Morr took his hand to conduct him whither he was bound, and in turn the shepherd led his congregation to Remas, both he and they in dazed obedience.

Upon the journey the Devoted murmured amongst themselves, for they could see the consternation of their shepherd, and they were troubled by their thoughts, and Morr visited their dreams too that they might grow to suspect their shepherd and know him for what he was. And when they came to Remas they had come to know that Vallerius was a false prophet, and they bound him in fetters and delivered him into the hands of the Admonitor, that he might be judged according to the multitude of his sins, and that they too, in all humility, might be punished for the abominations they had done, for they knew they could not enter Morr’s garden carrying the burden of their sinfulness.

So they did scourge their flesh with flails and whips, the better to tear away their sins through painful subjection to Morr’s will. And for every blow they had struck against the innocent they administered a dozen blows unto their own bodies, in penance, and through this mortification they did purify themselves, and wash away all pride and arrogance, and all sinful thoughts.

And Morr revealed his wrath against the ungodly and unrighteous shepherd to the Admonitor, being the right-hand man of Father Carradalio, and made it known that Shepherd Vallerius must be punished for his iniquities. And the shepherd was taken to the field by the ruins of the Ludus Carracallus, in the company of several brothers of the Disciplinati di Morr, whom the Admonitor had declared to be blessed revengers fit to execute wrath upon him that hath done such evil.

In that place the shepherd knelt, for he could not stand before Morr’s indignation, and he knew full well what he had done and desired that he might be saved by Morr’s mercy. And he was pitiful in the brothers’ eyes. And prayers were said over him as he knelt, that his body might rest peacefully and that such a sinful soul as he would not rise from the grave to commit further wickedness.

While the brothers watched and waited for the appointed time, the shepherd’s vileness did reveal itself for he began to curse them, that they be punished for what they were doing, but they did not revile him in return for they knew from his words that he had been judged righteously, and so took comfort that it was indeed Morr’s will that was to be done.

And when the time came they smote him through his neck, and the blade went out at his throat.

And when an hour had passed, the Devoted were brought to the place of execution. There the Admonitor delivered his admonishment, saying Hear my speech, and hearken to all my words. Your deeds may well have been inspired by Morr, howsoever misinterpreted by Shepherd Vallerius, who in his arrogance feigned an intimacy with Morr he did not possess. I have no doubt that you were driven by an earnest desire to serve Morr Most High, to cleanse both yourselves and the world of all that offends him, and so you sinned in ignorance. It was Vallerius who caused thee to err, but err you did, and you will be judged. What you did was evil in the eyes of Morr and you must pray for forgiveness as you have never prayed before, and you must learn humility in the face of Morr, and bow to the wisdom of those who are closest to him, and who hear his words most clearly.

Holy Morr does not whisper to our Holy Father Carradalio, but speaks loud and clear. You must not presume to know, from your own imaginings and convictions, what is right, nor what must be done, but rather must become fully obedient to the true church and its saints. You must prostrate yourselves before Morr’s altars, humble yourselves before his shrines, and offer yourselves body and soul into his service.

I shall hereby make atonement for your sins, and I will ask that Holy Morr forgive you, so that you may make afresh your covenant with Holy Morr.

And the holiest of books was brought to him that he might read from it and so bless them.

And a priest did intone the necessary prayers before the reading.

Beside him was the Blessed Ravern Standard that the Devoted were to pledge themselves to, as well as several of the most humble and holy priests of Remas …

And the throng of the Devoted did listen unto the words and their hearts were lifted as they knew that they were cleansed of their sins in the eyes of the Lord Morr, and that their hearts were delivered of all tribulations, so that they might now go forth and fight against the vampires and their foul servants until they had gotten the victory over them.

They were given a new Shepherd Marshall to govern them, and to lead them in battle. And the spirit of Morr filled them, until they cried as one, “Thanks be to Morr!”
« Last Edit: October 06, 2017, 03:24:18 PM by padre »