The Battle of Plank Street. Part Two.

AKA 'Reports of my blogging demise have been greatly exaggerated'.

I won't kid anyone that first-time fatherhood is simple, I don't want to jinx this peaceful five minutes I appear to have finagled for myself.

Need to refresh yourself on Part One?

Back to the experience. We managed to meet up online once more and finish our game of WHFB3, this time with added Gaj and rules. From a player's perspective, I am very grateful to have been able to take part, so thanks guys. I managed to avoid any of the difficult, behind the scenes GM work I normally do and was able to just play, which was bliss. I must point out a few technical niggles, purely for honesty's sake so please don't think me ungrateful, but I must also say that playing this way, while not as good as the old fashioned way, has a lot to recommend it and is approximately one million times better than not playing at all.

So, Tokbox sucks. I bought a new microphone and so did Thantsants so all four of us could converse, though rarely at the same time as it turned out. Roll20 is still new and there are bound to be teething problems but it was with some venom that I filled out the Tokbox feedback form I found. By far the more fluid experience was the original game in which only the GM was able to talk to everyone while the players typed a mixture of banter, instructions and rules queries. Though we got into a real groove for much of the second game it was a real blow to lose Erny towards the end, as organiser and GM both he left a big hole as we played out the climactic final chapters. I too had trouble being heard for the first twenty minutes or so which started to really frustrate me, fortunately I got a grip of first myself then the technology.

Other than that it is just the minor tweaks I described in part one that need attention by those at Roll20 to open this up to all tabletop gamers.

I will certainly be pestering the gents to get involved in a sequel to the Battle of Plank Street, if only so I can get my claws on that pesky Cnut.

The story so far...

Grishnack cuffed the Orc to his left and thundered the order to open fire, a big phalanx of stunties was marching towards them as fast as their little legs would allow and that one in the front had mighty expensive looking gear. Could it be that dirty Cnut? He looked hopefully at the amulet for the third time, it was definitely out of 'Shazam' though. That treacherous bloody Witch had only cast half a bleeding spell on it. As the amulet's glow had faded and died the effect could be seen all along the battle line. First of all one of the Trolls had broken off from scoffing the little ginger dwarfs and started flicking through a leather book, Gork knows where that had come from, then the general lack of coordination his lads had all to often demonstrated in the past came flooding back. He was going to have to wade in and start hitting things, as usual. His reverie was shattered by a dwarvish battle-cry, "HATRED, HATRED AND CHARGE!". "Zoggin' 'eck", thought Grisnack "'ow did they creep up so quick, and why aren't youse lot shootin'?" Too late the Arrer boys shook off their torpor and raised their bows, only to get hurled back by the assaulting stunties.

"GRISHNACK! GRISHNACK BLOODAXE! TASTE MY AXE YOU DOG!"

Grisnack turned to see who dared taunt him, it WAS that filthy little Cnut after all!  Grishnack drew his mighty blade, Fingsplitta, and swung it with all the strength his corded Orc muscles had to give. He drew first blood on the Dwarf King but took a nasty cut in return. He hewed once more, again bleeding the Dwarf but again suffering a bite from Cnut's axe in return. He now had a vicious axe wound from Cnut that troubled him deeply. As Grishnack's vision began to blur he caught glimpses through the chaos of his forces being triumphant everywhere, everywhere except here that is. The lads had won, that plan he had nicked off Annibal the Cannibal had really worked, and he hadn't even needed them Oliphaunts. So why hadn't they come back like they was supposed to? They was off looting the baggage or the dead, anything other than circling round the back like they was supposed too in fact. Grisnack never even saw the blow that felled him, after though he could just about make out that he was alone. The arrer boys must have fled, he could see their bows chucked on the ground, and that horrible Cnut had made his escape thanks to the gap he had made in Grishnack's lines. Grishnack felt a shadow fall across his prone form, it was his right hand lieutenant returned from his victory on the right flank. "'Ello Ashnack!" he gasped through his ruined throat. "'Elp me up will ya!". Ashnack the Butcher looked grim, his swinish red eyes bored into Grishnack's skull.

"Sorry Grish', sorry the lads never come back to 'elp, only I told 'em not to see? An' sorry I gotta bash your 'ead in, but I is da boss now see?"

Grishnack blinked stupidly as Ashnack's sword came down hard and caved in his face.

"I is da boss now", Ashnack repeated to himself as he attached 'Fingsplitta' to his belt and looted Grishnack's corpse. "An' I is gonna hunt me down a bit o' Cnut I think, oh yes indeed"...

Thanks for stopping by!