Test of Heroes
Epic Battle
Weary yet unbowed, the column snaked through the boulder-strewn lowlands towards Bernhof. A carnival of triumphant horns, excited chatter and snapping black-on-white banners, the levity of the column belied the desperate fight the column had fought barely a fortnight ago. Men had been lost but honour regained before the pearlescent stones of the arcane tower, as the relentless foe had been turned back from their dread purpose.
It had been a close-run thing, and the levity and banter of the veterans of the column belied how close they had come to their end. For the fresh troops sent from the garrison at Heideck to reinforce the column, victory was victory, and a good a reason as any to feel that the tide of the war had turned in their favour at last. As they caroused and passed around the victory wine, the veterans could not grudge them their simple pleasure in the taste of victory. In truth it refreshed the hardened warriors of the column to see such brash enthusiasm.
Yet not all the faces reflected the buoyant mood. A rider, passing back along the column flanked by a pair of battle-scarred attendants, wore a face that might as well have been carved from stone. His once-black armour was scored and dented in two dozen places, the gilded scrollwork along its edges twisted and rent from the glancing blows of blade and bolt. The man’s face was likewise abused: a bloodstained cloth wrapping the man’s brow barely concealing a vicious wound that still leaked blood in a slow rivulet that traced a path down the left side of the scarred and pitted face and into the man’s ash-flecked stubble.
As the rider passed down the column, men saluted with weapon, banner and drink, yet the man’s face was unmoved by the riot of cheering that his presence inspired. His tattered cape, ragged at the edges from the fires of battle, snapped proudly in the stiff wind echoing the standards dipped in his honour. The only response the man gave came when a rider, galloping along the column from the opposite direction on a foaming steed slicked with the stress of hard riding, approached and dismounted before him.
The man glanced down at the messenger, who saluted and pressed a roll of parchment sealed with blue wax into his gauntlet. Reading the message, the man’s head snapped up. Turning in the saddle, he shot a determined gaze to the east, and hailed his nearest attendant in a voice that his men had seldom heard since the fight at the Phoenix Tower.
“The Panther calls for aid. Send my commanders to me.” The attendant spurred his grey-black steed and rode back from whence they had come. The cheering died down, and the faces of the warriors raised up to their lord, expectant and eager. The man’s gaze swept about the ranks of men about him, as if aware them for the first time. “Men of Morr!” he cried, in a voice swelling to the moment like a wave crashing on the shore “My brothers! The Knights Panther calls for heroes to aid them in their hour of need. I go to lend them my blade. Who will follow the Black Raven once again into the flames?” A forest of blades swept from scabbards and thrust skywards, and cheers accompanied them as the men of the column swept forward to surround their hero.
It had been a close-run thing, and the levity and banter of the veterans of the column belied how close they had come to their end. For the fresh troops sent from the garrison at Heideck to reinforce the column, victory was victory, and a good a reason as any to feel that the tide of the war had turned in their favour at last. As they caroused and passed around the victory wine, the veterans could not grudge them their simple pleasure in the taste of victory. In truth it refreshed the hardened warriors of the column to see such brash enthusiasm.
Yet not all the faces reflected the buoyant mood. A rider, passing back along the column flanked by a pair of battle-scarred attendants, wore a face that might as well have been carved from stone. His once-black armour was scored and dented in two dozen places, the gilded scrollwork along its edges twisted and rent from the glancing blows of blade and bolt. The man’s face was likewise abused: a bloodstained cloth wrapping the man’s brow barely concealing a vicious wound that still leaked blood in a slow rivulet that traced a path down the left side of the scarred and pitted face and into the man’s ash-flecked stubble.
As the rider passed down the column, men saluted with weapon, banner and drink, yet the man’s face was unmoved by the riot of cheering that his presence inspired. His tattered cape, ragged at the edges from the fires of battle, snapped proudly in the stiff wind echoing the standards dipped in his honour. The only response the man gave came when a rider, galloping along the column from the opposite direction on a foaming steed slicked with the stress of hard riding, approached and dismounted before him.
The man glanced down at the messenger, who saluted and pressed a roll of parchment sealed with blue wax into his gauntlet. Reading the message, the man’s head snapped up. Turning in the saddle, he shot a determined gaze to the east, and hailed his nearest attendant in a voice that his men had seldom heard since the fight at the Phoenix Tower.
“The Panther calls for aid. Send my commanders to me.” The attendant spurred his grey-black steed and rode back from whence they had come. The cheering died down, and the faces of the warriors raised up to their lord, expectant and eager. The man’s gaze swept about the ranks of men about him, as if aware them for the first time. “Men of Morr!” he cried, in a voice swelling to the moment like a wave crashing on the shore “My brothers! The Knights Panther calls for heroes to aid them in their hour of need. I go to lend them my blade. Who will follow the Black Raven once again into the flames?” A forest of blades swept from scabbards and thrust skywards, and cheers accompanied them as the men of the column swept forward to surround their hero.
Jonas gagged as the stench of blood and sweat filled his nose and throat. Even the air in the dank cellar seemed crimson from the dark work taking place within. Jonas’ hand, which had strayed to his hammer totem upon entering the chamber, again gripped the sacred object tight as he forced himself not to look away. To do so would to show weakness in the face of the enemy, and whilst that in itself was not to be brooked, to do so before the towering Witch Hunter invited pain and punishment that was not worth imagining. Jonas tried not to do so, but the evidence of the scene before him made picturing anything else impossible.
The man was a giant. His massively muscled torso, smeared red with blood and warpaint was splayed across the massive oak wheel. Heavy ironed spikes hammered through his palms and ankles leaked rivulets of dark blood as the man twisted and strained against the steel, further ripping his ragged flesh. Yet these were not even close to the worst of his wounds. The ‘Hunters jagged blade had carved strip upon strip of the warrior’s flesh from his heavily thewed frame, as he had put the warrior to the question.
“Who is your lord, heretic?”
“Where does he march?”
“What is his strength?”
Thus far, the questions had met with nothing but curses uttered in the man’s guttural northern tongue. Jonas wondered at the strength of the man to resist so much pain and remain defiant. The thought that he might one day have to face such a goliath on the field of battle made him grip his talisman even tighter. The Witch Hunter plunged the blade in again.
“Who is your lord? What is his strength? Where does he march?”
The man again snarled, and spat a gobbet of blood into the Hunter’s face. It cost him several of his brutally filed teeth. Leopold Weiss wiped the back of his heavy leather gauntlet across his lips to wipe the blood and spittle from his face. He grunted and turned back to a low oak table at his back. If it were possible, the implements laid out there were more brutal than the dripping blade in the Witch Hunter’s hand. Jonas swallowed hard, and stole a glance at the veteran sergeant sharing the guard duty. The man’s grizzled face was pale.
Selecting what resembled a razor sharp steel pear, the Witch Hunter turned back to his work.
“We have as long as it takes, heretic. And you will beg for death once I know your secrets. Now . . .” As he made to use the device, a heavy rap on the cellar door interrupted his work. Weiss nodded to Jonas, and he released the grip on his talisman to open the door.
Markus Gelt, one of Weiss’ cadre of commanders entered, a sheaf of unrolled parchment in his hand. Gelt passed the message to his Lord, and Jonas saw a broken blue seal stuck to the reverse side. Weiss scanned the paper briefly, and dismissed his second with a curt nod. He turned back to the crucified man, a rictus grin on his face.
“Your resistance has been wasted, heretic fool. Our time is at an end. Your gods have failed, and your lord will fall. Sigmar prevails” weiss' blade bit deep beneath the man’s ribs, yet he did not flinch. “And you are damned”, whispered the Warrior Priest.
With a tearing sound hideous to hear, the man exploded into action. Suddenly, impossibly, he had torn one of the steel spikes from the wheel and stabbed it towards the Witch Hunter. Weiss took the blow on his armoured shoulder, yet still reeled from the force of the blow. The Veteran Sergeant lunged forward even as Jonas fumbled for his blade, and in a second the brute had ripped one of his feet and his other hand free.
Catching the sergeant's swinging blade with the flesh of his ravaged palm, the hulking figure rammed the spike through the warrior’s helm, slaying him instantly. Jonas backed away, out of the reach of the still-pinned giant as he tried to tear free his remaining limb. Agonisingly, the final spike was coming loose, and Jonas knew he was doomed. His sword clattered to the stones, and he whimpered a prayer to Sigmar.
a shot roared out, deafeningly loud in the tiny stone room, and a hunk of metal blasted through the heretic, carving a massive wound into his chest. Weiss rose, his heavy pistol smoking. even now the man would not go down. Clutching the oak frame, the giant leaned forward, still pinned at the ankle, and raised his massive hand, the steel spike still rammed through the flesh of the palm. he glowered at the warrior priest.
“My race was damned ‘ere we set foot in this world, little man. I will live in glory for ever,” he snarled at Weiss. Jonas blinked. The giant reared back onto the wheel.
“BLOOD! FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” he roared, And rammed the spike into his own throat and out through the top of his skull.
The man was a giant. His massively muscled torso, smeared red with blood and warpaint was splayed across the massive oak wheel. Heavy ironed spikes hammered through his palms and ankles leaked rivulets of dark blood as the man twisted and strained against the steel, further ripping his ragged flesh. Yet these were not even close to the worst of his wounds. The ‘Hunters jagged blade had carved strip upon strip of the warrior’s flesh from his heavily thewed frame, as he had put the warrior to the question.
“Who is your lord, heretic?”
“Where does he march?”
“What is his strength?”
Thus far, the questions had met with nothing but curses uttered in the man’s guttural northern tongue. Jonas wondered at the strength of the man to resist so much pain and remain defiant. The thought that he might one day have to face such a goliath on the field of battle made him grip his talisman even tighter. The Witch Hunter plunged the blade in again.
“Who is your lord? What is his strength? Where does he march?”
The man again snarled, and spat a gobbet of blood into the Hunter’s face. It cost him several of his brutally filed teeth. Leopold Weiss wiped the back of his heavy leather gauntlet across his lips to wipe the blood and spittle from his face. He grunted and turned back to a low oak table at his back. If it were possible, the implements laid out there were more brutal than the dripping blade in the Witch Hunter’s hand. Jonas swallowed hard, and stole a glance at the veteran sergeant sharing the guard duty. The man’s grizzled face was pale.
Selecting what resembled a razor sharp steel pear, the Witch Hunter turned back to his work.
“We have as long as it takes, heretic. And you will beg for death once I know your secrets. Now . . .” As he made to use the device, a heavy rap on the cellar door interrupted his work. Weiss nodded to Jonas, and he released the grip on his talisman to open the door.
Markus Gelt, one of Weiss’ cadre of commanders entered, a sheaf of unrolled parchment in his hand. Gelt passed the message to his Lord, and Jonas saw a broken blue seal stuck to the reverse side. Weiss scanned the paper briefly, and dismissed his second with a curt nod. He turned back to the crucified man, a rictus grin on his face.
“Your resistance has been wasted, heretic fool. Our time is at an end. Your gods have failed, and your lord will fall. Sigmar prevails” weiss' blade bit deep beneath the man’s ribs, yet he did not flinch. “And you are damned”, whispered the Warrior Priest.
With a tearing sound hideous to hear, the man exploded into action. Suddenly, impossibly, he had torn one of the steel spikes from the wheel and stabbed it towards the Witch Hunter. Weiss took the blow on his armoured shoulder, yet still reeled from the force of the blow. The Veteran Sergeant lunged forward even as Jonas fumbled for his blade, and in a second the brute had ripped one of his feet and his other hand free.
Catching the sergeant's swinging blade with the flesh of his ravaged palm, the hulking figure rammed the spike through the warrior’s helm, slaying him instantly. Jonas backed away, out of the reach of the still-pinned giant as he tried to tear free his remaining limb. Agonisingly, the final spike was coming loose, and Jonas knew he was doomed. His sword clattered to the stones, and he whimpered a prayer to Sigmar.
a shot roared out, deafeningly loud in the tiny stone room, and a hunk of metal blasted through the heretic, carving a massive wound into his chest. Weiss rose, his heavy pistol smoking. even now the man would not go down. Clutching the oak frame, the giant leaned forward, still pinned at the ankle, and raised his massive hand, the steel spike still rammed through the flesh of the palm. he glowered at the warrior priest.
“My race was damned ‘ere we set foot in this world, little man. I will live in glory for ever,” he snarled at Weiss. Jonas blinked. The giant reared back onto the wheel.
“BLOOD! FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” he roared, And rammed the spike into his own throat and out through the top of his skull.
from its vantage point soaring over the rocky wilderness, the carrion bird's hungry eye scanned the terrain below for its next feed. the Land below was green and Grey, with spars of rock jutting through the untamed grasslands of this part of the empire. a ragged strip of brown, draped over the landscape showed the bird where the best meal was like to be found: a winding road carved to ease the passage of goods and trade between the hamlets dotting the landscape.
a glint of light stabbed upwards from a point in the road, catching the bird's eye. it wheeled down, drawn by the prospect of a fresh carcass upon which to sate its constant hunger. and sure enough, its curiosity was rewarded. a man lay sprawled face down upon the road. his armour, from which the morning sunlight had reflected, was sprayed with a patina of mud and dust, a sign of long travel. two bolts of steel Protruded through the backplate Indicating what had felled the travelling soldier.
The bird perched upon the dead man's arm and pecked at the Exposed flesh of his hand. the motion dislodged a blue-sealed roll of parchment in the man's nerveless fingers,and it rolled into the mud unnoticed. the bird pecked again, then raised its head as remote caws signalled the arrival of fellow predators. two broad black birds swooped down, and the bird flapped away in deference to its larger fellows. it alighted on a wooden post scrawled with white paint, and watched for an opening to get at the corpse once more.
The sign read "Morrstadt - 2 Miles"
a glint of light stabbed upwards from a point in the road, catching the bird's eye. it wheeled down, drawn by the prospect of a fresh carcass upon which to sate its constant hunger. and sure enough, its curiosity was rewarded. a man lay sprawled face down upon the road. his armour, from which the morning sunlight had reflected, was sprayed with a patina of mud and dust, a sign of long travel. two bolts of steel Protruded through the backplate Indicating what had felled the travelling soldier.
The bird perched upon the dead man's arm and pecked at the Exposed flesh of his hand. the motion dislodged a blue-sealed roll of parchment in the man's nerveless fingers,and it rolled into the mud unnoticed. the bird pecked again, then raised its head as remote caws signalled the arrival of fellow predators. two broad black birds swooped down, and the bird flapped away in deference to its larger fellows. it alighted on a wooden post scrawled with white paint, and watched for an opening to get at the corpse once more.
The sign read "Morrstadt - 2 Miles"
With their fastness in Bernhof rapidly becoming untenable, the Knights Panther begin fortifying the ancient keep of Sigmar’s Tor in the hills overlooking the Frostwood. But mere days after the Panthers mobilise, a massive pincer attack descends upon them. Raging berserkers from Avondorf sweep through the Frostwood to the south, while from the north the musk-clad decadents of Slaanesh sweep past Darius’ forces at Morrstadt unchecked, and approach the keep.
The Panther Cub, Eirik Fangsteiger immediately sends out riders to summon his allies to aid him in the fight. Leopold Weiss, already en route to Bernhof to deal with Darius’ treachery, swiftly gathers his forces and marches for the Tor. A day out of Bernhof he meets another force: Black Steffan and his warriors returning triumphant from their victory at Phoenix Tower. Together, they arrive in support of the Panther Cub and prepare to resist the latest push. From Morrstadt no response comes.
As the Empire forces marshal for battle, another force arrives. Glutted on their adventures in the south, the Mountain Breaker Tribe have come north through Black Fire Pass and found their services in need. Tyrant loq-Tli, having intercepted the message bound for Anselm in the south, offers his services: at the usual price!
Battlefield
The battlefield is the lands surrounding the fastness of Sigmar’s Tor. The terrain is rocky and wild, with the expanse of the Frostwood bordering it to the south, and the road from Bernhof stretching away west. Sharp rises offer commanding views of the field, and it is control of these that will determine the outcome of this conflict.
Armies
Each force consists of 10000 points, plus their general for free.
The forces of the Empire and their mercenary Ogre allies are 2500 points each (four armies). Due to the mistrust sewn by Darius’ actions, none of the Empire forces quite trust the other, and so each must use its own General and BSB. The Ogre Mercenaries are a force unto themselves, and will likewise use their own General and BSB.
The forces of Chaos are 5000 points each (two armies). Because of the rival nature of Khorne and Slaanesh, and the collapse of the alliance of their Daemonic champions, each Chaos force likewise must use its own General and BSB.
Each army need not include the points for their Army General, who they receive for free. For the Empire these will be Leopold Weiss, Eirik Fangsteiger and Black Steffan Ravenschwartz. For the Ogres this will be (name). For Chaos, the Daemon Princes Haakon D’Shar and Helganeth lead the attack.
Deployment
The battle is fought across the table, with each side’s deployment zone 18” from their table edge, but no closer than 12” to the flanking edges. Each army must choose the way they want to deploy prior to the battle. These are:
Regardless, of what choice is made, the Panther force must deploy a single infantry regiment within Sigmar’s Tor at the outset of the game. This regiment may be accompanied by a single combat character to lead the defense of the outpost.
Order of Deployment
In Turn 2, deployment is conducted in the following order:
When multiple forces from the same faction arrive in the same turn (ie. two allied forces both Force March), each force rolls a D6, deploying in that order (highest roll to lowest).
An army deploys its entire contingent at once.
Each army has 10 minutes ONLY to deploy its contingent. Units not deployed in this time, roll as if they were Forced Marching in subsequent turns.
First Turn
If only one side uses Forced March, they can decide who receives the first turn. If both sides use Forced March, then roll off as normal, with the winner deciding who places their entire army first. This army’s side then has the first turn.
If no side picks Forced March, then dice off in Turn 2 for who goes first, the side deploying first again receiving the first turn.
Game Length
The game lasts for 8 turns (this includes a turn if neither side Forced Marches, in which case Turn 1 is lost).
Magic
As with all epic battles, 3D6 are rolled to determine power dice each magic phase, with the highest and lowest counting dispel dice. the maximum power dice is raised to 18.
Victory Conditions
The player who achieves the most number of Objective Points in the game wins. There are two types of Objective Points: all are worth a single point.
Deploying Objectives: Before sides are chosen, each player is given a random token numbered 1-6, which is the order in which objectives are deployed. Each player then places a marker (randomly numbered 1-6, which is hidden from all players) representing one objective no closer than 18” from the table edge, no closer than 12” to another objective marker. Once placed, and after sides have been chosen, each player replaces the marker corresponding to their number, with their own objective marker. This is then their own objective for the game.
Special Rules
General’s Honour
In order to seize the objectives, it is important for individual armies to move separately to each other. At the beginning each turn, each general rolls against his compatriots to see who has the Honour for that turn. The player who has the highest roll has the honour for that turn, the player second has the second and so forth (ties are settled by who has the most Battlefield Objective, and then by re-roll). Honour has the following effects:
The breakdown in the cohesion of each of the warring sides has meant that in this battle every army is guarded about its strategy for fear of betrayal. For this reason, players are not permitted to discuss any strategy before the game beyond indicating to their allies the manner of their deployment (after the choice has been made, that is!).
Should the players wish to discuss strategy during the game, they must announce that they wish to do so, and then each pass a Leadership test on their general’s leadership. Should their general be slain, they are no longer permitted to discuss strategy. BSB rerolls cannot be used for this, as it is not a matter of battlefield morale!
Should a player discuss strategy without using the above rules, then they are penalized by their BSB being unavailable for rerolls for the remainder of the (player) turn.
Order of casting spells is exempt from this rule (ie. Players may discuss spell targets freely and distribution of dice), however shooting is not.
Reward Cards
Reward Cards can be used during this battle.
The Panther Cub, Eirik Fangsteiger immediately sends out riders to summon his allies to aid him in the fight. Leopold Weiss, already en route to Bernhof to deal with Darius’ treachery, swiftly gathers his forces and marches for the Tor. A day out of Bernhof he meets another force: Black Steffan and his warriors returning triumphant from their victory at Phoenix Tower. Together, they arrive in support of the Panther Cub and prepare to resist the latest push. From Morrstadt no response comes.
As the Empire forces marshal for battle, another force arrives. Glutted on their adventures in the south, the Mountain Breaker Tribe have come north through Black Fire Pass and found their services in need. Tyrant loq-Tli, having intercepted the message bound for Anselm in the south, offers his services: at the usual price!
Battlefield
The battlefield is the lands surrounding the fastness of Sigmar’s Tor. The terrain is rocky and wild, with the expanse of the Frostwood bordering it to the south, and the road from Bernhof stretching away west. Sharp rises offer commanding views of the field, and it is control of these that will determine the outcome of this conflict.
Armies
Each force consists of 10000 points, plus their general for free.
The forces of the Empire and their mercenary Ogre allies are 2500 points each (four armies). Due to the mistrust sewn by Darius’ actions, none of the Empire forces quite trust the other, and so each must use its own General and BSB. The Ogre Mercenaries are a force unto themselves, and will likewise use their own General and BSB.
The forces of Chaos are 5000 points each (two armies). Because of the rival nature of Khorne and Slaanesh, and the collapse of the alliance of their Daemonic champions, each Chaos force likewise must use its own General and BSB.
Each army need not include the points for their Army General, who they receive for free. For the Empire these will be Leopold Weiss, Eirik Fangsteiger and Black Steffan Ravenschwartz. For the Ogres this will be (name). For Chaos, the Daemon Princes Haakon D’Shar and Helganeth lead the attack.
Deployment
The battle is fought across the table, with each side’s deployment zone 18” from their table edge, but no closer than 12” to the flanking edges. Each army must choose the way they want to deploy prior to the battle. These are:
- Forced March: The general of this force decides to push their troops to get to the high ground first. This force may deploy half their army up to 12” from their own table edge in the Deployment Phase. Scouts, if selected in the Forced March, deploy as per the Scouting rules. The remainder of the army rolls a D6 for each unit from turn 2 onwards. On a 3+ the unit deploys in that turn, arriving on their table edge. These units cannot charge in this turn, nor may war machines fire.
- Disciplined March: The general forms an orderly battle line and deploys in formation. Whilst not quick, this has the advantage of getting the whole force onto the field in good order. At the beginning of Turn 2, the entire army deploys within 12” of its own table edge, and may march and charge in this turn, and war machines may fire. Scouts deploy as normal (ie. Deploy prior to Turn 1 as per the normal rules)
- Flank Attack: The general dispatches a flanking force to skirt the enemy forces, whilst marching the remainder of his strength in good order onto the field. The force may designate up to half their army as a flanking force, and the remainder as their main force. The main force deploys in Turn 2 within 6" of their own table edge, and may march but cannot charge in this turn. war machines may not fire. Each unit in the flanking force rolls a D6 from Turn 3 onwards, arriving on either their own table edge, or one of the flanking edges in the opponent’s half of the table on a roll of 3+. Units arriving in this manner may neither march nor charge, unless they are Cavalry Units (not Monstrous Cavalry), who may declare a Charge as normal (befitting their suitability for this roll).
Regardless, of what choice is made, the Panther force must deploy a single infantry regiment within Sigmar’s Tor at the outset of the game. This regiment may be accompanied by a single combat character to lead the defense of the outpost.
Order of Deployment
In Turn 2, deployment is conducted in the following order:
- Forced March
- Disciplined March
- Flank March
- Forced March
- Flank March
When multiple forces from the same faction arrive in the same turn (ie. two allied forces both Force March), each force rolls a D6, deploying in that order (highest roll to lowest).
An army deploys its entire contingent at once.
Each army has 10 minutes ONLY to deploy its contingent. Units not deployed in this time, roll as if they were Forced Marching in subsequent turns.
First Turn
If only one side uses Forced March, they can decide who receives the first turn. If both sides use Forced March, then roll off as normal, with the winner deciding who places their entire army first. This army’s side then has the first turn.
If no side picks Forced March, then dice off in Turn 2 for who goes first, the side deploying first again receiving the first turn.
Game Length
The game lasts for 8 turns (this includes a turn if neither side Forced Marches, in which case Turn 1 is lost).
Magic
As with all epic battles, 3D6 are rolled to determine power dice each magic phase, with the highest and lowest counting dispel dice. the maximum power dice is raised to 18.
Victory Conditions
The player who achieves the most number of Objective Points in the game wins. There are two types of Objective Points: all are worth a single point.
- Battlefield Objectives: there are 6 objective points on the battlefield. At the end of each turn, the side that has the nearest unit (NOT character) within 12” of the objective counts as holding that objective. If this nearest unit is engaged in combat, then the combat itself counts as the closest unit, and the Objective counts as contested.
Deploying Objectives: Before sides are chosen, each player is given a random token numbered 1-6, which is the order in which objectives are deployed. Each player then places a marker (randomly numbered 1-6, which is hidden from all players) representing one objective no closer than 18” from the table edge, no closer than 12” to another objective marker. Once placed, and after sides have been chosen, each player replaces the marker corresponding to their number, with their own objective marker. This is then their own objective for the game.
- Test of Heroes: each army’s general contains a heroic figure whose ego and desire for victory is put to the test in this battle. Each of these generals is given a character sheet that lists 3 objectives that they might want to achieve. Prior to the battle, each player selects ONE of these objectives in secret (tick the sheet). Revealed at the end of the game, add these to the Objective Points for the game to determine the winner.
Special Rules
General’s Honour
In order to seize the objectives, it is important for individual armies to move separately to each other. At the beginning each turn, each general rolls against his compatriots to see who has the Honour for that turn. The player who has the highest roll has the honour for that turn, the player second has the second and so forth (ties are settled by who has the most Battlefield Objective, and then by re-roll). Honour has the following effects:
- Movement in the Remaining Moves phase is conducted strictly in order of Honour. Note that this is the only time having the second/third/fourth honour etc. is used)
- The general with the Honour decides the order of combats.
- The general with the Honour has the right to cast the first spell (can be waived)
- The general with the Honour can choose to make a Challenge before the other forces.
- The General with the Honour can claim a captured standard in a combat where multiple forces are fighting (e.g. in a combat in which two or more different friendly units are fighting and a flee and pursuit takes place, the Honoured general can claim the standard over the top of his allies).
The breakdown in the cohesion of each of the warring sides has meant that in this battle every army is guarded about its strategy for fear of betrayal. For this reason, players are not permitted to discuss any strategy before the game beyond indicating to their allies the manner of their deployment (after the choice has been made, that is!).
Should the players wish to discuss strategy during the game, they must announce that they wish to do so, and then each pass a Leadership test on their general’s leadership. Should their general be slain, they are no longer permitted to discuss strategy. BSB rerolls cannot be used for this, as it is not a matter of battlefield morale!
Should a player discuss strategy without using the above rules, then they are penalized by their BSB being unavailable for rerolls for the remainder of the (player) turn.
Order of casting spells is exempt from this rule (ie. Players may discuss spell targets freely and distribution of dice), however shooting is not.
Reward Cards
Reward Cards can be used during this battle.