The Final Map and Campaign Results

 
And so it ends. With the dust settling on the final siege, the dwarves eventually proved victorious and cast out the liche and his forces from the old ogre capital. With the undead denied clear victory, who emerges as the ruler of the Sundered Isles? The final results tell us the awful truth:

So, after a two year campaign, the vampire counts and the dwarves carve up the isles and establish a border between the two realms. Nestled in the new dwarven lands are the remnants of the Bretonnian kingdom, and far to the East the forces of chaos cling on. In the undead lands nothing remains but empty keeps and blasted lands, the people fled or enslaved.

We began the campaign with nine players, and generally things went pretty smoothly. A dedicated GM (thanks Tom) and regular map updates (thanks me) were a huge help. The ability to roll off battles when folks couldn't play was a big plus, and later on we used Universal Battle to play online if we couldn't meet face to face. Next time, and we already have six players signed up, we will probably put a cap on the amount of years the game lasts. Five would probably be enough. The Blood in the Badlands rules are quite good too, so we might give that a shot.

This blog is a pretty good record of our exploits, so if anyone out there finds it of use for their own campaigns then all is good. Campaignhammer 2 is already in discussion.

Finally, a parting shot from the old liche.

High in the towers of the old Elven capital which rose from the cliffs of the Northern coast of Kinsblood isle, Morbius stood  over a large table covered in maps of the isles. He had fled from the dwarven assault on the keep on Kanesdue, and the dwarves had wasted no time in re-fortifying it and anchoring their Southern borders around the new docks built there. Thomas had never returned, and Morbius surmised that he had met his final end on the walls of the ogre keep.

Over the following months the dwarves had established  a tenuous border, their ironclads patrolling the seas off Kinsblood and the isle of mists. They dared not venture too close, as the ghost hulks of his new fleets were always waiting for a stray ship to lag behind. 

Morbius looked up from his musings at the hammering above him. Human workers laboured to finish re-roofing the main hall of the elven fortress. Many had been taken from the villages to the North, as precious few elves still lived on the island. It was not the graceful and flowing wood work of the Asur, but it was sturdy and it would keep the rain off. Skeletal drudges toiled alongside the humans, neither tiring or complaining. They were less exacting in their trade, but they served. Soon enough the keep would be restored and the real work could begin. There were tens of thousands of corpses mouldering in the earth or rotting at the bottom of the ocean the length and breath of the isles after the war, and Morbius hated to waste a good corpse.

With a cheery chuckle, he returned to his maps.