How, he wondered, had it come to this?
Back on Nosebite hill he was well respected, a Shaman with a direct line to the green gods, much feared by the rest if the tribe.
Now here he was, soaked to the skin, battered and bruised, in a land he didn't recognise with only a bunch of poxy Night Goblins and some dimwitted trolls for company. If and when he ever met up with Gruzzkup again, he'd be reminding him whose job it was to get visitations from Gork (or Mork) and demonstrating how even a mighty Warboss ought to keep in well with a Shaman if he knew what was good for him.
Just then his muttering was interrupted. Kint Uckee, the keen sighted leader of Da Blue Moon Archers, was shouting and pointing.
"'Ere, Grizzgit, look. Elvesis, stupid pointy eared Elvesis. In skirts. Can we shoot 'em?"
The shaman turned and bellowed instructions to the rest of the force, urging them into line as he felt the power of the Waaagh rise and green energy begin to flow in his veins. Elves was just what he needed to get everything out of his system!
In the first game of our Warhammer campaign I went to war with a (mostly) Night Goblin army, led by the venerable level 4 Shaman Grizzgit.
Sadly all did not go well for the greenskins.
Outflanked by Reaver knights and terrified by the Griffon, the demise of the Great Shaman on turn one meant for an uphill struggle. By the end there were few Goblins left and lots of High Elves, their clothing unsullied by blood or other beastly stains.
- Lots of the models on both sides remain unpainted - always the danger at the start of a campaign
- My camera is bobbin
- I got carried away and forgot