The Headtaker - MM25 Marauder Orc (1989)

Got this on eBay, who knows when. It was definitely in a bundle. I am not an Orc lover, to be honest, but this figure looked cool. So when Phil Gregory aka oldmanpaints launched his Old Orc competition for Orctober, this is what I found in my lead pile. Literally, the only Orc there was.

I learned only later that this is a Marauder MM25 Orc, sculpted in 1989 by Aly Morrison and sold in a blister of four. I love the heavy armour that defines Black Orcs, heavy scale hauberk that contrast with the later Middlehammer silly plates with spikes and horns. The shield was missing and I decided to play with a couple of Elf heads taken from the GW Zombies sprue, and so the Headtaker was born.

I had lots of fun painting this, mostly because looking at other painters motivated me to improve and experiment. Besides conversion, which is not so common for me, I tried Blood for the Blood God colour with some interesting results. 

 

The final result is a very brutal-looking Orc, displaying the heads of two Elfs, probably captured scouts, while he wields his bloodied axe and offers a bloodied grin. Glorious.

The Tale of the Black Troll of Colmart, part 2

 

This a battle report, following from Part 1. The rules are again WFB 3rd edition with Mordheim and common sense additions to make skirmishing more interesting.

Unhappy was the court of Marcus, Duke of Gisoreux. Two of their best knights were dead and one shamed, and the Black Troll still haunted the ruins of the village of Colmart. Who would save the honour of the Duke? If only most of the other knights were not already engaged with other quests... but alas, Duke Marcus's call for more valiant knights to fight the Troll had no response.

Truth be said, most of those so-called quests his knights were engaged in were vague at best, but these are details that epic tales like to forget. No one questions the bravery of the knights of Gisoreux without consequences (unless the one questioning is a Black Troll, ca va sans dire).

About that time, two pleaders were admitted to a hearing with the Duke. Fred and Wendel were their names, and they were Dwarf miners from the Mountains to the East. They were as shady as a Dwarf miner can be, so shady that the Duke was tempted to have them kicked out of his palace.

"Harken our words, my lord!" called Fred. "We have heard of the Beast that plagues the eastern marches of your lands, and come to offer our help. Trolls are foul creatures our race is familiar with. We know, in fact, a champion who has made a name by slaying them: his name is Gugnir Trollslayer. We would be honoured to serve you and have you and your subjects freed of the Monster!"

The Duke's attention was picked. Gugnir Trollslayer was a mighty name, so mighty no one would have doubted the warrior's prowess.

"Our kin, however, lives far to the East and we are poor. We ask you no money, but to cover our travelling costs and those of the Trollslayer... and if he succeeds, he would also require a suitable reward."

"Of course!" said, the Duke. "Ask my bailiff for whatever you need, and you shall have it. Bring me the Troll's head and your champion shall have gold aplenty. Go forth and return with mighty Gugnir!"

Dwarfish travelling costs turned out to be significantly higher than Human ones. Especially Gugnir relied on a special diet requiring raw meat from freshly killed livestock, and a single luxury room at every stop. He also needed a private coach, just for him, furbished with suitable materials such as silk, silver plating and a coachman in livery. The bailiff, not wanting to discuss with his Master or to get involved in the preparations, agreed to give the Dwarfs a large bag of gold, leaving the details of the trip to them.

A couple of weeks later, the Dwarfs were approaching Colmart. Gugnir was muttering, as usual. Gugnir the Mad was his real nickname among Dwarfs. He was technically a Trollslayer by vocation, even though he had not yet killed a Troll. But he was a mighty warrior. He was muttering because he was out of alcohol: he had agreed to follow the two miners and be paid in booze. They had travelled on foot and slept in the cheapest inns, sometimes in stables. Gugnir had not once complained about this, but when the wine was finished he always became nervous.

Wendel and Fred are two level 5 heroes, one armed with a two-handed hammer, the other with hand weapon and an arquebus. Gugnir the Mad is a level 10 hero, armed with a two-handed axe of Piercing (reduces armour save by 1). Being a Trollslayer, he is subject to Alcoholism and Frenzy.

The three Dwarf heroes approach Colmart

"Where's this blasted Troll?" asked Gugnir. "Let's kill it and get something to drink."

"It must be here... can't you smell it in the air?"

"I can't smell after that time I got hammered in eastern Kislev. Damn their vodka and those crazy drinking games." 

"Did you compete against Humans?"

"Those kossars are half Goblinoids if you ask me. I won in the end. We all passed out but I was the only one to wake up the following morning. Lost my sense of smell, though, vodka burned my nose nerves... or something."

"I think it is near." said Fred. "You hide behind a house and I shall bait it with my arquebus."

Fred spots the Black Troll, while the other two Dwarfs hide.

"I smell Dwarfs," thought the Black Troll. He had bad memories of Dwarfs. Stringy, dry-meated Dwarfs in the mountains, full of tricks. "Me no like Dwarfs. This time I play trick on them."

The Troll succeeded again in his Stupidity Test and decided to steer clear of the arquebus range and walk behind a house.

The Black Troll is an ambush expert, at least among Trolls.

"I'll distract him," said Fred. "You go the opposite side and take him from the back."

"Hey ho! Stupid brute, look at me!" yelled Fred, his eyes peeking from over a low wall. BLAM! shoot his gun, emitting a puff of smoke. The bullet missed the Troll, who look more puzzled than angry. Was that Dwarf challenging him, or playing some new trick? Meanwhile, Wendel and Gugnir were sneaking behind him.

 

After some consideration (3 on Ld test successful) the Troll decided there was no trick: that Dwarf was challenging him, and so he charged. Just when the two Dwarfs were almost upon him, he sprinted towards Fred!

BLAM! shoot again the Dwarf, and again missed (roll 1). "Take this, you stunty!" yelled the Black Troll, raising his stone axe over his head. Fred tried to hide behind the wall, crouching pitifully and praying to all the Dwarf Gods, but to no avail. With a mighty thump (Thumping attack) the Troll's stone axe reduced the Dwarf miner to a pulp. 

"That'll teach you!" sentenced the Troll, looking with satisfaction at the mess he had made. He stood there in contemplation (Stupidity Test failed) while the other two miners charged him, yelling wildly.

"Die, you bastard!" cried Gugnir. Wielding his mighty two handed axe, whose edge never blunted, he inflicted several deep wounds (2, leaving the Troll at 1W). Wendel, by a wrong decision, had taken a different charging route and was still on the way.

The Black Troll screamed from pain and turned towards the Trollslayer. "I knew it was a trick!". He was so angry it made him sick, so sick he felt the urge to vomit.

"Bleaargh!" went the Troll, and Gugnir was engulfed by the wave of digestive acid from his belly, and fell screaming.

"Shit." was all Wendel thought, finding himself alone and only a few yards away from the Troll. It took a moment for him to turn his heels and run away. Unfortunately for him, the Troll was still angry with Dwarfs (Stupidity Test successful!) and it ran after him. 

No Dwarf can outrun a Troll. Wendel's life passed in front of his eyes in a blink. "If I die, I'd rather die fighting!" he resolved, and so he turned and faced the Beast, who had meanwhile regenerated his wounds. "Take this!" cried the Dwarf, hacking at the Troll's leg (1W). "You take this! And this! And this!" cried the Troll, unleashing a shower of blows on the Dwarf. When he stopped, Wendel's corpse was barely recognisable as a Dwarf, or even a humanoid. 

No one heard of the unfortunate Dwarfs again. But all their leftover gold and Gugnir's ever-sharp axe - being inedible - became part of the Troll's treasure hoard. And the fame of the Black Troll of Colmart grew, and travelled far and wide...

The Tale of the Black Troll of Colmart, part 1

This is a tale from a time long gone. There was a village on the west side of the Grey Mountains, named Colmart. Its inhabitants were farmers and miners. They lived a simple, honest life, until one day the Black Troll arrived.

Some say it came from a cave in the Mountains, some from a bog in the valley. It did not matter: the villagers could not defend themselves from the Beast and only a few escaped with their lives, most being devoured by the monster...

This is a Warhammer battle report. Yes, I'm bored and with Covid-19 there's no one to play with. I am still painting and I want to use my miniatures, so I'm playing short games with just a selection of them. I am using WFB 3rd edition as a base, tweaking the rules with some Mordheim additions to make skirmishing more interesting. Want to see cool picture of metal miniatures and read the ramblings of an Oldhammer is isolation? Scroll on.

The survivors ran to the court of the Duke Marcus in the city of Gisoreux. The Duke summoned his paladins and three of them volunteered to face the Black Troll, and swore to bring his head to their liege. You must understand that in that time wizards were still held in great suspicion and no one would think of bringing one along. Oh no, the people of that time though a valiant man with a shining sword and a trusty steed could solve any problem. Those were different times...

I will be using a Citadel Stone Troll one one side, using standard rules from WFB 3rd edition with two tweaks: one, the Troll has a save of 6 because of his thick skin; two, being along and not distracted by Goblins running around, he is more focused and his Stupidity test is done against a Cl of 6 instead of an Int of 4. Also, he does not need to take Stupidity tests if he is attacked - he will defend himself as long as someone tries to hurt him.

The challengers will be three recently painted Carolingian knights from Artizan Designs. Fine old school metal miniatures, absolutely ok to represent Warhammer knights from a long gone era. They are lvl 5 heroes on horseback, armed with lance.

The names of the three knights were: Ser Folkwin the Brave; Ser Amalfred the Steadfast; and Ser Gaidwald the Fearless. They rode to the eaves of Colmart and started to look for the monster.

Our Black Troll was no common Troll. He was more cunning than others (Stupidity Test successful), and on smelling riders he decided to hide behind a building and wait in ambush.

Our knights, however, were not to be surprised so easily: circumventing the main building of the village, they easily spotted the Troll. "Charge!" cried Ser Folkwin. In spite of the creature's fearsome visage, all three knights fearlessly rode towards it (three Fear tests passed).

The clash was terrible and the Troll was pierced my many blows, but still his thick skin protected him from blows that would have killed a lesser creature (he received 2 W and was left with 1). He waved his great stone axe, trying to defend himself, but the knights were too fast for him.

But lo! two wonders happened in that moment: the wounds of the Troll, by some sorcerous power, started to heal; and the monster, turning to Ser Folkwin, discharged upon him and his steed a river of gastric juices (Vomit attack). The knight miraculously survived the attack (Troll's roll to wound: 1), but so foul was the smell of the Troll's half digested last dinner that the horse could not take it, and bolted away (Ld test failed - not specifically in the rules but it made sense to me to have one).

Meanwhile, the other two knights still lunged their spears at the Troll, eventually felling it. The Beast was defeated... but, wait! 'It is not dead! He is regenerating again, oh Gods protect us!'

The Troll got up, screaming rage, and a hail of blows fell on Ser Gaidwald, who soon lay battered in the sand. "Folkwin!" cried Amalfred, seeing himself lost. Folkwin heard his companions and finally managed to calm his horse (Rally test successful). Turning towards the fight, he screamed a battle cry and rode back.

Too late, he was: the Troll made quick work of Ser Amalfred, and turned to face Folkwin again. The brave knight, finding himself alone against the horrendous monster, attempted a half hearted attack and then fled for his life. The battle was over.

After riding back to his Duke, his weapons blackened by Troll acid, Ser Folkwin reported his defeat and the tragic demise of his companions. He never bore the nickname "the Brave" again. He became Folkwin the Shamed, left the service of the Duke and became a Knight Errant.

Thus ends the first part of the Tale of the Black Troll of Colmart. It continues with Part 2 here.