Blood Eagle - The Fateful Bridge

Wulfestan ran his finger along the edge of his axe, flinching at the sudden sharp pain.

"It's been over a week Sigered, what do you mean the pagans are still here?"

Sigered looked across at his Thegn.

"They have sent raiding parties far and wide. I don't believe they intend to leave soon".

"Hmm" grumbled Wulfestan, "and what of those we sent back across the marshes?"

The priest shuffled his feet...

"They remain there. It is said a mighty warrior now guards the bridge."

The Thegn scowled.

"Send some spears. Let's see how mighty the pagan is when skewered like a Michaelmas hog!"

"They have been sent..."

The Thegn put down his axe and squinted at the holy man.

"And?"

"They have not returned."

 

 

On the far side of the forest stood a bridge. Beyond the bridge lay a dank and noisome marsh. Upon the bridge stood a man. Clad in mail and wielding an axe, the man looked towards the forest, ever vigilant.

 

 

The man's name was Vandil. On either side of the bridge lay the bodies of Saxon warriors. Their shields sundered and their bodies hacked.

 

 

Johan and the rest of his men sat atop a low hill. Their armour and weapons lay about them.

Alongside Ox and the veteran Kalf, Johan was joined by two novices, eager for battle.

Refusing to sit, Ulf the berserker twitched.

"Be calm Ulf" said the Jarl in a soft voice.

"The Saxons sit praying to their one God. They send mere boys to face the mighty Vandil."

 

 

Wulfestan and his warband emerged from the trees. The day had come when these Viking Raiders would be sent back across the sea for good.

 

 

The Thegn was accompanied by Sigered the priest and the beast slaying Huscarle hero, Alric. Alongside them marched three Spearmen and two sling armed Skirmishers.

 

 

Wulfestan sent a warrior to his right and two warriors and Skirmishers to his left. Ahead stood the bridge.

 

 

Vandil watched as the Saxons advanced.

 

 

One of the Skirmishers turned to his companion.

"Can you swim?"

 

 

"This honour is mine" exclaimed Alric.

"So be it" said Wulfestan

 

 

As the two great warriors approached each other, Sigered stepped forward and started to chant blessings.

 

 

The pagans watched as the two warriors exchanged blows upon the bridge. The Huscarle took aim and attempted to break his opponant's shield. But the blow was deflected.

"Time to lend a hand" said Johan.

The Vikings reached for their armour.

 

 

"Wait Ulf!" Shouted Johan.

 

 

Johan and his men carefully chose their path through the marshes and moved towards the bridge.

 

 

The two Skirmishers ran to the river and with a yell one jumped into the torrent.

"But can you swim?!" shouted his companion.

Without responding, the Saxon sank beneath the surface.

 

 

Seeing the half naked berserker charge onto the bridge, the remaining Skirmisher let loose with a volley of stones. But his aim was wide.

 

 

Meanwhile on the bridge, the two warriors continued to exchange blows. Behind the Saxon his priest continued to chant blessings.

 

 

As the berserker raced across the bridge, the Saxon warriors took aim and let fly their spears. But Ulf moved like the wind and the spears flew wide of their mark.

 

 

The two warriors on the bridge continued to exchange blows, but each refused to yield.

 

 

Another Saxon threw himself into the raging waters...

 

 

... and was never seen again!

 

 

As Johan raced to support Vandil, the Saxon Huscarle suddenly lunged forwards and brought his axe down upon the veteran Viking. Vandil staggered and dropped to his knees.

 

 

But heroically, he clambered back to his feet and pushed Alric back.

[a single hero point was enough to save the day for the Vikings!]

 

 

"Enough!" cried Wulfestan "Fall back!"

The Saxons withdrew from the bridge and eyed their foe.

[six turns had elapsed and the Saxons had failed to cross the bridge]

 

 

The Norsemen gathered around Vandil, slapping him on the back.

"Let's rid ourselves of these biting flies and return to our ship" cried Johan.

As his adversary disappeared into the mist that blanketed the marsh Wulfestan turned to Sigered.

"Fear not priest, there is more than one path across the marsh."

Get to the Ships!

 

Blood Eagle - Thoughts on the Campaign System

Having now played a couple of games, we've decided to make a few tweaks to the campaign system in Blood Eagle.

Although the game isn't really designed to allow character development between games (other than permitted figures earning Hero points), we felt that some display of progress would help in the telling of a good Saga.

So, where a figure type is permitted the appropriate options we've decided to allow Traits and Magical Powers to be purchased between linked games (one per figure per game interlude). Ideally, such Traits will be reflected by what happens during the game - but we'll leave this to player discretion. Once added to a figure the abilities cannot be removed though, so careful choices must be made.

In campaigns, players have a pool of 400 reputation points and are permitted to field 250 points worth of figures per battle. You don't get many heroes for 250 points though... Since using our modification some characters may improve as the campaign develops we felt it only right to increase the number of points available. We've played 250 points for our first two battles, but will increase the allowance to 275 points for our next game (The Fateful Bridge), and then to 300 points for the fourth game (Get to the Ships!). Not only will this allow larger warbands to be fielded as the campaign develops, but it also gives a little breathing space should a player only want to develop individual characters.

Of course this does also mean that a loss of reputation will become more serious as the campaign develops and we may have to consider increasing the initial pool (say from 400 to 500). But we'll see how things go.

 

Making off with the Spoils

Wulfestan emerged from the Church and looked at the distant forest.

"They'll not move quickly. There is time yet."

Sigered the priest put his hand on Wulfestan's shoulder.

"Word has been sent. Ailred's brothers have been summoned. They will be comforted that he fell a hero. But I suspect that may not be enough..."

In the fading light Wulfestan reached for his axe.

"Follow me!"

 

Johan drew his sword and prodded the old woman.

"Pull the cart wench!

 

 

The Norsemen stood before the forest. Their success with the raid and timely departure had given them a head start on the Saxons and they had chosen their path through the forest well. But Johan was no fool. He knew that despite the fading light the Saxons would quickly mount a pursuit.

 

 

The Norsemen were heavily loaded, would they get through the forest before the Saxons caught them?

 

 

The Saxon Thegn and his men eased their way through the undergrowth.

 

 

Meanwhile a warrior and two Huscarles who called the fallen Ailred kin appeared across the glade. Their hearts were set on vengeance for their fallen brother.

 

 

It was time for the Norsemen to make their move.

 

 

The Saxons watched as the pagans picked their way through the forest glade. Suddenly they heard a loud bellowing and through strained eyes the Saxons saw a large shape loom out of the mist.

 

 

"Wulfestan!" Whispered the Priest, "That bull. Nobody leads it, yet it moves with purpose."

 

 

Moving with as much stealth as their weapons and armour allowed, the Saxons started to close their trap.

 

 

Johan felt uneasy. The trees in the distance were starting to thin, but the forest had fallen quiet. Much too quiet.

 

 

The trap is sprung! Saxon warriors rush from either side of the glade, forming a Shieldwall.

 

 

 

Will the Vikings abandon their load and break through the trap, or hold onto their spoils and make a fight of it?

 

 

From the trees emerges Alric, one of Ailred's brothers. Before him stands a mighty bull, the likes of which he has never seen. The earth trembles and the bull paws the ground. In disbelief the Saxon watches as the horns of the bull start to glow with a firey red light.

In an astonished voice Alric exclaims "What devilry is this?!"

 

 

Suddenly Alric screams in pain as he is engulfed in flames, the force of the blast knocking him off his feet. The bull drops its head and charges.

Alric feels the ground shudder as the bull approaches but, gathering his wits, pulls himself to his feet. Before him stands the bellowing beast. Alric swings with his axe and strikes the bull. It's legs fold and the bull crashes to the ground.

 

 

Alric looks in awe and wonder. Before him lies not a beast, but a man!

 

 

The Saxons are determined that none will pass.

 

 

Wulfestan lunges forwards hoping to catch the berserker unawares.

 

 

But Ulf steps back leaving the Saxon Thegn to swing his mighty axe at thin air. The Saxon warriors move forwards hoping to skewer one of the veteran Vikings.

 

 

The warriors lunge with their spears and the Pagan falls!

 

 

Meanwhile a Norse warrior, still clutching his spoils, weaves his way through the throng to attack the Huscarle who still stares in wonder at Ox.

 

 

Kalf, one of the veteran Viking warriors, was down but not beaten. He drags himself to his feet just as Vandil, his brother in arms, swings his axe and fells one of the Saxons.

 

 

Alric looks up at the charging Norse warrior and swings his axe. The warrior falls, his helm and the skull within cloven.

 

 

But the tide is turning. Roaring with animal rage, the berserker throws himself at the Saxon warriors, hacking at one where he lies. In desperation Wulfestan raises his axe. Sigered raises his hand to bless his Thegn. The berserker turns from his fallen foe and swings his axe at the Saxon Thegn standing before him. The berserker strikes hard. Wulfestan's fate will be decided by God.

 

 

[whenever a dice is rolled a blessed figures rolls two dice and chooses the highest...]

 

 

Wulfestan is swept off his feet.

 

 

But before Ulf can finish him, Wulfestan rises and strikes back.

 

 

In a cry of surprise and pain, the berserker falls to the ground.

 

 

Aldwyn had watched as his brother Alric felled the great beast. Anticipating that the pagans may abandon their spoils and make a break for the edge of the forest, he had quietly moved through the woods to head off their escape. But the Norsemen were making a fight of it and two of their most experienced warriors were hewing at the Shieldwall before them.

Aldwyn moves into support and strikes with his axe. The pagan before him steps aside and returns the blow. Aldwyn feels a sharp pain and looks down at the Viking axe embedded in his chest.

 

 

Seeing the Huscarle fall, a Saxon warrior thrusts his spear forward and a veteran Viking slumps to the ground.

 

 

The Shieldwall reforms and pushes against the remaining pagan. Seeing his flight thwarted, Johan pushes the Saxon woman away from the cart and charges the remaining Huscarle.

 

 

Behind him Johan hears a mighty thud as Wulfestan and his warriors hack down the only other Norseman still standing. If Johan could only fell the Saxon before him his path would be clear to flee into the woods and disappear into the night.

 

 

But Alric doesn't move. Using the butt of his axe he jabs at the Norseman hitting him between the eyes. For Johan, the world suddenly goes very dark...

 

 

Victorious, Wulfestan surveys the scene about him.

"Sigered, who still lives?"

The priest moves from body to body.

"A pagan is dead, but the others may yet fetch ransom".

"What of Aldwyn?" Asks the Thegn.

The priest kneels at the side of the fallen Huscarle and looks up at Wulfestan.

"May God rest his soul".

 

The Fateful Bridge