The Price of Honor (Post-Battle)

Agea’s Drake Hunt (Dweghom) vs. Campaign Albion (Hundred Kingdoms)


Post-Battle Narrative.

Artur opens his eyes. Above him, angry, dark clouds deliver a torrent of dust and water, the sedimentary seeping into the Wasteland. The drops are cold, harsh, chilling him to the bone. He kneels atop a deep altar made of steel and flesh, the pieces of those who paid the price for his honor. And paid until the last drop of blood so their King wouldn’t lie there with them.But a small part of him will forever rest here with their noble sacrifice.
Artur takes his favored poleaxe, removing the tip but keeping the blade, and begins to dull the edge by striking it upon the savannah earth. Deeper and wider, with progress made primarily due to the rain softening the soil, Artur prepares the burial for these young men and women – his peers, some even he recognizes from his time in the War College – who will never see their home again.
A deep voice grumbles at him. The Prince thinks it was a man, at first, until he turns to glance at the speaker – a Dweghom with brown hair and a relatively smooth complexion compared to the males he had met on occasion. ”It will be Remembered,” starts the female Elder, her eyes grim yet focused on the survivor before her as she speaks in an older dialect of the human tongue, “that a team of humans refused to remove themselves from the path of War. It will be Remembered that, for their insolence, many were slain, the rest scattered, and Aghm claimed from the weak in the form of rare ivory. One human lives to bear witness and Memory for the defeated.”
  ”Where is your Aghm, human?”
  “…My weight is in the crest over my heart: the emblem of Albion Hold, shield of Clan Drakequill. I am a Thane.”
Her eyes ignite with blue flame for a moment at the mention of the word, before then scoffing.
“A Thane? Is that all that will be Remembered of you? Hah! Hiding behind trinkets and Clan – how little Aghm your name holds, that you should claim the strong title Thane yet shame yourself, manling!”

Artur grips his makeshift shovel and furiously glares at the Sorceress. ”What do I care about your Memories?! You want a name to ‘Remember’? Fine! Artur Drakequill!”
”A name that bears with it so little weight, it might as well be helium. But, at least, some Aghm is better than none. And so it will be Remembered, Artur Drakequill, the naive manling Thane.”
Artur clenches his teeth, pulling back his arm, and striking the earth once more. Unfortunately, in the time that he had taken to converse with his enemy, the hole had mostly been inundated with muddy water and more sedimentary.
At this point, his rage-fueled energy has expired, and the exhausted Prince sinks to his knees, head lowered, wallowing. After a moment, he feels a warmth somewhere behind him. He turns, wondering how there can be warmth while the rain had yet to relent its downpour, and cries out in dismay. The bodies are burning. Flesh and steel becoming ash by the second as a pyre of blue-white flames consume the bodies. The rain only causes the hungry fire-beast to hiss in annoyance, for nothing will stop it from its purpose while fuel is nearby to feed it.
Artur watches as the remains of the Drakenguard – heirlooms, banners, and all – are erased. For a moment, a dark thought entertained his mind: what if he brought their families to the Conclave, and held them accountable for their son or daughter’s cowardice in the expedition? Sixteen different families, all sued for the price of honor, would surely sustain Albion in her darkest hour…
  ”No! Artur screams, pounding the muddy ground, ”No! No, Theos damn you! How could you think that way?! Your peers, your comrades, your friends? Is it really that much easier to make their families suffer, rather than tell them the truth?!”
The rain slowly ceases, and the fire dies without fuel. The Tempered Sorceress is long gone, taking with her a map to what would have been his next expedition to a rumored dragon’s cove by the southern coast.

The surviving troops will eventually regroup that night and find their Prince back at the camp securing the remaining loot – mostly salts, W’adrhun crafts, and a big, hidden chest full of cinnamon from a thieving soldier. When asked about the events that transpired, or the fate of the Drakengard, the usually serious young man was unusually quiet and uncharacteristically detached. All he would say was, “The expedition’s time has expired. Let’s go home”.
Something had changed in him. The court whispers that the Prince is now a King, having lost his naivety in the expedition. But those from the expedition claim something else, that Artur had faced down Death itself, and no longer feared. The truth is only know to the man himself, who no longer wore his crests openly, and would rather that everyone know him as Artur before his own lineage is said.
Thus starts the next chapter of Artur’s life as The Lion of Cammuravi, having tasted sweet victory and bitter defeat, in equal measure, in the alma mater of his career.

The Price of Honor (Pre-Battle)

Agea’s Drake Hunt (Dweghom) vs. Campaign Albion (Hundred Kingdoms)


Pre-Battle Narrative.

Artur opens his eyes. Above him, soft, white clouds, laden with water from the southwestern sea, float slowly over the Wasteland. They promise rain, and shelter from the oppressive heat surrounding him. He’s kneeling before a small altar made of stone, praying before it, refocusing the imperfect man. The same man that had given in to his inner demons.

It’s been a month since he had captured the rival sovereign of the nomadic hill-tribe. And what a profitable month it has been. Just the first week saw the initial investment repaid, from the travel to the supplies, and even the third-party sponsors of the expedition. The Mint was paid with the second week’s tributes, and the third and fourth week were almost all directly sent to Albion. Some of the men were sent back to make sure the money was filling the coffers correctly, and Gravin was assigned to lead the changers in this endeavor.

It’s all going surprisingly well. Maybe he can finally relax for once…

A loud crash shakes him from his ennui. The Prince stands quickly, rushing out of his personal tent, one that was fashioned in the way of the W’adrhun (but fit for a human, rather than their prodigious bulk). The crash comes again. Before him is a decently sized clay prison. It was originally made of wood and tied together by dried fibers with an open ceiling above, but taking compassion for the sweating Queen the Prince had ordered his men to put plaster over the wood, and even form a makeshift roof. For his efforts, Artur was met with silence. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, this sudden vitriol against her prison.

  “Stop! Cease and desist!” Artur shouts, drawing his side-blade, and eyeing the growing bulge of a soon-to-be hole on the side of the prison. “I had thought that we reached an understanding, that you would be a compliant prisoner of war until your ransom was paid, Matriarch! Are you turning back on your word? Are you turning back on your honor?!”

  “Peace, please! Peace!” Artur feels a strong pull on his desert scarf around his neck, the motion nearly choking him, but spinning him around well enough until he faced a W’adrhun girl whose height reaches his chin. She has bright, brown eyes, similar to that of the Queen, but where the Matriarch would merely gaze at you with a presence that simply deserved respect, this girl’s eyes were ones that gleamed with curiosity first and regal steel second. Apparently, she was only nine-years old.

  “Can you not hear it, Chief Drakequill?” the nameless girl whispers in fear, her hands cupping the sides of the Prince’s head, her fingers pulling on his ears as if trying to open them further. “That rhythm, that awful rhythm… of War’s Disciples?” Her lips purse and her face scrunches as she tries to imitate whatever sound she heard, without using the strange but sometimes beautiful intonations that come from deep within their throats. Her sound, instead, comes from the stomach.

…It beats. Like a heart, it beats. But at a rhythm which quickens the blood, incites action. Artur once asked his mentor if he had ever lost a battle. Colonel Ector nodded slowly, then, and uttered only one word, the same that echoed with the maddening rhythm.


And then, the sound doesn’t just come from the W’adrhun girl. The sandy ground holds a beat, and it seems to grow ever stronger. Artur shouts for his men to ready themselves, everyone scrambling to equip for the coming battle beneath the roiling storm-clouds, heralding terrible omens as streaks of fury and light ripple between heaven and earth.

The Dweghom crest the dunes. Their purpose, an enigma for now… but perhaps seeking to settle a Memory with his prisoner. Or with his lineage for some forgotten slight.

In the chaos, the Prince places a dagger to the girl’s palm. He looks into her eyes, saying, “Go! Take your Queen! We’ll meet the foe here. Tell her to pay the price of honor… when we meet again.”

The Predator and the Prey (Post-Battle)

The Silent Foe (W’adrhun) vs. Campaign: Albion (Hundred Kingdoms)


Post-Battle Narrative.

Regal. Unbowed. Unbroken. The Prince of Albion stands atop the fallen monster which was the Matriarch Queen’s chosen steed, his glaive pointing at her throat while she gazed back, measured and unafraid, even though her leg is trapped under the wounded beast. He notes the lack of perspiration from his foe; in contrast, his armor itched from chaffing against his body, the applied oils already evaporated in the midday sun. His face is moist, his breath ragged, as he fights the urge to commit regicide.
Fall. So this is a true battle.
  “So you must be the Matriarch of the tribe beyond the hill,” Artur says, swallowing his saliva first and managing to control his shaky voice. “Let’s get straight to business. You’re a Queen, and me? I’m a King. You’re my prison as of this moment. And by right of conquest, I will demand of your people everything that I see fit to own.”
She opens her mouth. For a brief moment, Artur feels somewhat relieved: finally, some diplomacy with these people! His hopes are dashed – she spits at his boot, soiling it with mucus.
The next moments blur for the young, hot-blooded prince. He recalls his fists and boot whirling about, his heartbeat pumping loudly in his ears, trying to feel petty vindication at inflicting pain but only hurting himself in the process. And feeling a dark seed fester like a parasite inside his heart.
When Artur finally returns to himself, Gilead has him grappled on the ground while Gravin is shouting at the Shield Templar to release him or, “So help me, Theos, I will-!” The Prince taps at Gilead’s arm and shakes the other at Gravin, calling for appeasement from both of his agent and his Armsmaster. Gently, Gilead releases him and Gravin shoves the templar aside to check on Artur.
  “I-I’m alright…” Artur coughs. He smiles weakly at his guard before looking around in alarm for the Matriarch Queen. “T-the prisoner, where is she? Did I… Did I kill her…?”
  “No, milord,” the Armsmaster shakes his head, partly in disappointment, “Were it any other woman or man, surely your righteous strikes would have slain the fool. She is beaten badly, but otherwise still alive, by Theos.”
Artur nods. He looks around the battlefield, noting his veteran guard already fulfilling their task by taking charge, commanding the volunteers to care first for the wounded and the fallen heroes while they capture those who accepted surrender, and gave a merciful end to those who won’t. One man, in particular, managed to stand and began running for the hill, screeching something horrible. Three longbows put an arrow in his eye, throat, and heart almost in one shot.
So. This is true battle…
Artur rises and immediately takes command. First, he calls upon his men and praises them for their service. To the survivors, he promised an increased twelve-percentage of the spoils of war to be divvied up among them all – this causes a great cheer throughout the small expedition. Second, he calls upon the prisoners, explaining to them their situation as prisoners of war and the conditions for their release. To one of their uninjured javelin-throwers, he gives the simple task of returning to their tribe to relay the circumstance, along with a single cart for which he was to return bearing the first of many tributes of cinnamon barks, unrefined salts, and especially fine ivories.
Thirdly, he has the Matriarch bound like a boar on his own, unbladed polearm, to parade and keep her immobilized while the ransom is paid over time. Her own size alone almost makes the task impossible, but they make do. Had there been other ways to carry a royal prisoner, Drakequill would undoubtedly be using it; however, the expedition hadn’t planned on earning a Queen’s Ransom in the first place.
But a Queen he did defeat. And a prize, he will receive. He meets the defiant Matriarch’s gaze with his own, unflinching as he relishes in his first sovereign victory.

The Predator and the Prey (Pre-Battle)

The Silent Foe (W’adrhun) vs. Campaign: Albion (Hundred Kingdoms)


Pre-Battle Narrative.

  “Artur, my sixth sense has been ringing alarms for a while. It’s getting really strong now – can I suggest we just head for the hills and fight another day?”
  The prince of Albion continues looking at the leather village tents not too far away from the strategic mound his scouts had suggested he view the W’adrhun from. They reported seeing them harvest cinnamon bark, saltpeter, and even ivory from the various random bounties of this Theos-forsaken Wasteland. An industrious folk, to be sure, though strangely silent.
  Perhaps they’re keeping a tradition where they mourn in silence for their dead matriarch? The Prince admittedly has almost no experiences with the savages, but even he knows they’re uncharacteristically quiet for a musically-blessed people. Still, he hasn’t seen signs of the prodigious female anywhere.
  Artur lowers his spyglass and turns to the Shield Templar beside him. He keeps his face stoic, but his tone firm. “Time is of the essence, Gilead. Albion’s already invested a small fortune to sanction this expedition with the Mint, and I’ve cashed in many favors so we can pass through the Russ and the Orders. We’ve got to come back with something to show for it. We have to.”
  He walks down the hill, the light desert clothing billowing from a cool, north wind. He passes by his warriors who are resting by the shade of a few craggy bluffs, dreading the hour when the sun hits its zenith and comes down in force. They look miserable – sweating, bored, and anxious for action to distract them from the heat.
  The Prince squints in the distance, spotting another mound. Wasn’t this the only hill in the area? Where did that come from?
  “Gravin, I need your spyglass,” Artur urges the Armsmaster of his personal retainers, the Drakengard, a force loyal only to the Drakequill House.
Receiving the object in question, the Prince glances through the tube only to put it down ten seconds after.
  “Rally, men!”

Campaign: Albion (Introduction)

A narrative-introduction for a Hundred Kingdoms army in the 2023 Slow-Growth Narrative League.


  Artur paces about his office, the oil lamp burning brightly. Four times already, he replaced the fuel for the light, each time glancing passively out the window. The sun is already beginning to rise, a new day bringing with it new problems. And another sleepless night for a tired, worried prince.
  He knew that royal duties would be difficult. But, oh, how the pressures of boring Academic studies pale in comparison to the suffocating collar he wears now. The Nord raiding season, the grudge of three neighboring kingdoms, and the endless internal issues what with his predecessor and father, Uthor the Usurper, having centralized the kingdom’s powers so tightly… if the “energy-boosting” medicines his dubious physician keeps giving him would cease their miracles, Artur was certain he might just die the moment he finally sets his head down to rest.
  Money. That’s his biggest concern right now. Tyrant though the previous king might have been, the projects he had moved forward and personally financed were surprisingly reasonable and logically sound. But they were expensive to initiate, and even more expensive to sustain. The White Walls of Albion, for one, would be near impossible to cease funding now. No, he wouldn’t be able to justify removing them – not to the pompous nobles of his court, not to the commoners who stood by him during the royal civil war, and most definitely not to his own stubborn pride.
  The easy way to solve this is to tax the land. But what ruler would do something so unpopular not long after reclaiming the throne? Artur recalls a kingdom or two which were no longer run by “kings” per se because of an unpopular tax increase. He would not add Albion to that list. There had to be another way…
  A campaign. A military campaign. Of course. If the treasury lacks funding… Albion must survive, engorging herself in blood and loot. Artur’s eyes meets the mirror, the Prince staring at a future King.

Southampton Sluggaz Summer Slaughter – A Conquest Tournament

Event Review.

Well it finally happened! Last Saturday, After 18 months of sitting idle during the Pandemic we finally managed to gather a bunch of players for a Conquest Tournament. The event was held at our usual Club Venue in Southampton and consisted of 3 games at 1250 points. The scenarios were all objective based, with 2 games being variations of the ones you find in the official Parabellum Tournament pack, and another of my own devising.

We had 10 attendees in total for the event, some experienced, some not, and some that had literally had a demo game with me a few weeks prior and were borrowing forces (which is a compliment to the game, that people are so excited after a single game to give up their time for a whole day event!)

The factions were broken down as follows:

6 x Hundred Kingdoms
3 x Dweghom
1 x Nords

Whilst our club does have Spires and Wadhrun players, they were either unable to attend or in the case of the Wadhrun not assembled in time (Paul had to borrow my Dweghom instead of shoving Orcs everywhere– poor thing!)

The lists were all a little different from each other. I’ve collated the armies into the table below. It shows the total number of stands present, though in some cases they may be spread amongst multiple regiments:

The first game scenario had two objectives spaced evenly across the middle of the table. The players swiftly got into the swing of things with all but one of the games being finished within the 2 hour time slot. Two of the players scored a maximum 12 victory point win to head into an early lead.

Game 2 was a scenario of my own devising with 3 objectives running up the middle of the table. Players would not score anything for the one nearest them, 1 vp for the middle objective and 2vps for the furthest away. Obviously the enemy would be aiming for the one nearest them, so they still had to work to deny it to their opponent.

The hundred Kingdoms Clash!

James and his Hundred Kingdoms continued their rampage with another 12 vp win, which was more impressive because he was against Mike H, whos Dweghom had also scored maximum points on the previous game. Ian also managed a fine win with his infantry based Hundred Kingdoms whilst Vaughan slowly crept up the table with a close win against Toby (Literally a few different dice rolls would have seen the Nords defeated). Poor old Paul was really regretting not having his Wadhrun finished at this point, though it looked like the awesome Wooden Spoon trophy was within his grasp!

Game 3 saw James and Ian face off at the top Table whilst Vaughans Nords squared up against yet more Hundred Kingdoms. The final scenario had a central objective. plus 4 other objectives in the middle of each table quarter. Players would score 1vp for holding BOTH their nearest objectives, and a VP for each of the other ones.

Unstoppable force versus Immovable object!

James and Ian slogged the hell out of each other, in what was a really close match. Eventually James gained the upper hand and managed yet ANOTHER 12vp win! The first prize was most definitely his!

The Nords embarked on a massively one sided slaughter of their opponents to secure a 2nd place finish, whilst Ian clung on to the 3rd place despite losing to James in the final game.

Down at the foot of the table Paul grimly claimed his Wooden Spoon prize, and vowed never to borrow any of my stuff ever again (probably)

The top 3 players each walked away with a victory mug, with First and second place also receiving a regiment box of their choice (James got Longbowmen, Vaughan got more Trolls – which we all hate him for). There was also a “side quest” of killing the most number of enemy Characters. Ian was our Assassin of the day, killing 8 characters across 3 games. As his prize he got a character box of his choice and went for an Imperial Officer.

Crimson Tower Knights showing no mercy to innocent dweghom. probably.

I’ll leave you with a lovely little piece from our winner James regarding the thought process behind his list.


“So I attended a tournament of Conquest: TLoK, and while I intended to try to offer a fun but challenging experience to my opponents, I did not imagine I would actually win, and with maximum points per game, too! The event was semi-competitive; yes there was a prize and trophy that incentivised an element of competition, but the main aim was to enjoy a day of just playing the game and if you happened to walk away with something then that was just a bonus. It was this ethos that I designed my list, to hopefully offer a force that wasn’t spamming ridiculous units but was challenging to face ad against which my opponents had to think about what they were going to do.

The list I took was:


The Hundred Kingdoms – 1245/1250
Novum Equestrum

Noble Lord [150]: Tier 3, Tier 2, Tier 1, Armor of Dominion, Powerful Physique

– Household Guard (5) [315]: Armsmaster, Standard Bearer

– Mercenary Crossbowmen (4) [140]

Priory Commander (Ord. Crimson Tower) [125]: Select as Warlord

– Order of the Crimson Tower (3) [215]: Standard Bearer

Chapter Mage [130]: Tier 1, Magus, Olefant’s Roar, Fire Dart

– Men at Arms (4) [170]: Seasoned Veteran


I would like to put a disclaimer that I know very little about proper list building. I do not do “mathshammer” or statistics or anything like and this list includes everything I wanted to play with on the day – overall, if you don’t actually enjoy playing with the models and force you use then what’s the point?

I made the list to not only be a fun force to play, but it has a theme as well. Like many 100 Kingdom players, I’m sure, I have imagined a kingdom within Ea and based my collection around this. For me, my kingdom or called Novum Equestrum – hence the name of the list. The name means “new Horsemen”. It is a city-region that specialises in equine breeding and trade, and also provides the best horses to a nearby Crimson Tower Priory. The kingdom also has a treaty and trade with an established Nordic settlement within its land, and incorporates Nord warriors into its military – much like Rome and her allies and auxiliary forces. Likewise, Nordic culture has also seeped into the kingdom and influenced style and art. The ruling houses, in acts of support and friendship with the Priory, rejects the Church, and so does not house any priests, but does have mage advisors. This then was the theme I wanted for the army.

I have converted some Household Knights with some Huscarl models to create my household squires. I was originally going to include these into my list instead of the Crimson Tower Knights, but while it meant the squires could run up the field and mean any medium units could be entering the board almost half way up, I chose Crimson Tower simply for the joy it brings me when they get their charge off and inflict all those impact hits and the idea of just heavy cavalry smashing into their poor targets! With the Crimson Towers knights, I’m not fussed about if they get to fight the turn they charge, but getting that charge off, so will (more often than not after failing a 2” charge before – even with a banner) move and then charge – often the same turn enacting the supremacy of the Priory Commander who is usually my Warlord. I also often tell this to my opponents, explaining especially the Unstoppable Charge special rule if they haven’t encountered it before.

I also like to take credit for our little local gaming community in Southampton often taking a mage with Olefant’s Roar. I tried it once and never went back. I usually give the mage Fire Dart, and with Olefant’s Roar giving her Seize the Day, it means I can activate her Men at Arms regiment, have them activate bastion in doing so, move, and either volley (to allow the mage even extra range damage) or move again – it effectively means she can immediately have better protection through bastion, and turns her 16” range on her spell into 26”. This alongside Magus and Magic Tier 1, meant that Fire Dart was very often hitting 4 or 5 times reliably, and in one of the games, made her more deadly than the knights! In hindsight, this may have been a bit too OP, but certainly wasn’t a conscious attempt at power-gaming.

For the Noble Lord and Household Guard: the Guard are just fantastic models and they look amazing when ranked up, and the Noble Lord compliments them so well, especially when they’re given Arms Master. I did think about taking Regalia of the Empire for that extra +1 Clash, but it would have meant I had to either abandon the Crimson knights, or reduce the stands of either the MaA or Crossbowmen which I didn’t want to do – and Inspired Clash 4 is still nothing to snort at! The remaining points I put into the combat Tiers for the Lord, who also had Amour of Dominion; the armour was always going to be taken as negating cleave for 40pts was worth it, especially when seeing Dragon Slayers entering the board during one of my games. The Crossbowmen also just offered some range threats and having an extra stand just meant a little more reliability of not necessarily deleting units, but knocking off a few wounds here or there – especially in the late game when regiments may already be pretty worn down.

Overall, the list offered options for defensive play, offense, and worked well to support  each regiment. The list also had a few sources for AP, Cleave and of course the Brutal Impact 2 of the knights, all of which I hoped would make the opponent think rather than just running down the centre of the board. The list then was to be fun but demand pause for tactical thought – which is what I expected and received from my opponents’ lists, too!”


The Southampton Sluggaz Gaming club will be hosting more tournaments in the future and hopefully we will see numbers increasing as the player base develops. We run friendly informal events with a relaxed atmosphere. We welcome players from the wider community so if you ever want to visit us for one of our events then get in touch and we will always try to accommodate you.