Dwarven hold escalation campaign

So my friends Mike, Joe, and Luis started up an escalation campaign.  The setting is a dwarven strong hold that has long been held by goblins. The special rules for the campaign is that you have to use the 500 point list you start with in every game, no war machines till after we get to 1500pts, can spend 40%on hero choice for the 500 point list.  The players in our little game are Mike (WoC/goblins) Joe (dwarves) Louis (vampires) Charles (me)(ogres). Now if I remember correctly the 500 point lists were:

Vampire with great weapon
20 skeletons
5 black knights
Zombies for the rest of the points

Slayer with rune of swiftness and a 50 point one I can't remember sorry
26 long beards shields and hand weapons

Sorcerer of tzcench with spell familiar( I didn't see him in combat so I don't know of he had something else)
20 warriors of tzcench with hand weapon shield

Bruiser with sword of swift slaying and giant breaker
8 bulls with full command and additional hand weapons.
16 gnoblars with trappers

The fluff behind each group


Charles

Tribe: Finnir's maw.
Unnamed tyrantBruiser is drom the giantborn. Called such because he lived with the giants for much of his life before finding his true home with the ogres. Taught the ways of the ogres by maggort the crusher of the herd manstopper. Seeking to please the maw and make up for lost time Drom seeks to find the strongest most worthy opponent and feed him to the maw itself. Drom learned of a dwarf hold held by the biggest and toughest greenskins there is from the gnoblar Tik.

Joe

My dwarf clan is named Throng A Yar Lhune (Clan of West Moonlight), and are a clan that believes that their purpose in this world is to find deeper understanding with the night and to keep the forces of darkness at bay. They are also infamously known as "Moon Dwarves" because they do not normally appear for battle in broad daylight. They only appear at night, and it is said that when the moonlight hits their beards, they shine like the moon itself.

Luis

Alexander von Lichten is a master necromancer obssessed with achieving eternal life. He believes the answer is with the Blood Kiss of the vampires, but thinks he can alter the magic behind it to give himse;f more control over his powers, which is why he ever recieved the Kiss itself. In his research he came into contact with a poerful vampire seductress named Elizabeth, who saw great promise in Alexander and decided to break herself off a piece of that action. Not really caring about anything but his research, Alexander agreed to marry her solely for the resources she could give him. However, since his only true passion is necormancy, he neglects his wife, who is now a bomb of rage just waiting to go off. The only reason they have three children is because of the three major breakthroughs in Alexander's research; finding the wooden spike on which Vlad von Carstein was impaled (which produced Lilith), breaking into the library at Castle Drakenhof (which produced Elaine), and finding a single page from one of the Great Necromancer's books (which produced Erik).
Alexander believes that by restoring the von Carstein family -more specifically Vlad and Isabella- they will be able to join minds with Heinrich Kemmler to achieve true eternal life and invulnerability.MEANWHILE Elizabeth is freaking pissed. She married Alexander for his power, yet he only sits in his study and pores through books, sending undead minions out to do the actual hunting of artefacts. She splits her days of solitude between wreaking havoc on nearby towns and cities, making sure the ghouls are properly subjugated, and gettin busay with the captain of her Blood Knights, Kristoph. This affair led to her daughter, Sylvia, who Elizabeth SWEARS is Alexander's child. Their legitimate son, Erik, discovered that his father had been cuckolded, and forever hates him for his ignorance.On the page of the Great Necromancer's book the name of a certain ruined dwarven city was mentioned. With no more leads to go on, Alexander gathered his family and marched on the ruins, hoping to find some magic artefact to bring him closer to his goal of resurrecting the von Carsteins.

Mike

The Crow Brotherhood is a small, but ancient conclave of seers, sorcerers and madmen who have dedicated their lives to the many faceted god of magic, Tzeentch. Their mission obscured and their ways unknowable, their scions have been sighted in all corners of the Old World, sometimes in the form of warriors armed with coruscating blades and gleaming armor, sometimes as mindbreakingly alien daemons spitting blue flame. Regardless of their mission or location, they have always travelled in the service of one of their mysterious masters, the Council of Nine. Terrifyingly powerful and old without measure, the Council of Nine are much like the God they serve – ever changing and constantly scheming against even itself. In fact, most of the Nine have never met all the other members of their order, as the Council has only gathered in its entirety twice since it’s founding – once to tie the oath of the Brotherhood, and once to reluctantly swear allegiance to Archaon the Everchosen. In recent years, there have been more frequent and detailed sightings of the Brotherhood as the Council and their forces frantically comb the Old World for arcane weapons of war and magicks forgotten to the world at large. These they carry to their fortress in the Wastes – a massive, floating crystal tower, held aloft by enslaved daemons bound by runic harness. If one were to walk through the library of magic, he would see the weapons of heroes, the glowering eyes of caged creatures, and mountains of proscribed knowledge, all tenderly cared for by the servants of the Crow Lord.
Among the members of the council, the Sorcerer Vathemar is the least of their number. More inclined to combat than intrigue, his only saving grace is his sorcerous foresight and terrifying skill at arms. Through his séances and daemonic servants, he has learned of the discovery Karak Aldin’s hidden gate. Sensing the promise of malicious power emanating from within, he has taken a cohort of him most trusted warriors and hastily opened a portal outside that forsaken place. There are many secrets inside the darkened walls of the city, and Vathemar will relish turning each and every one of them against his enemies

Precursor to Game 1

By Mike

Ragnaz blinked slowly in the dying sunlight and seized a shoddy spear from the wall as he lazily made his way around the perimeter of the shanty watchtower. Of the eight goblin garrison, he was the only one making any effort to actually survey the surrounding area. The black robed goblin was typically the only one of the “guards” that actually paid attention to anything outside of sleeping, eating, or throwing knucklebones anyway; but it had always been as such and no matter how much they squabbled and screeched, he would likely continue to be the only one. So he continued, stopping occasionally to scratch behind his oversized ears and smack his lips. It’s not like there was even anything to – Wait, wait yes! Just beyond the treeline, Ragnaz saw a steadily growing cloud of dust, kicked up by some distant group. Fishing around in his pocket for a piece of flint, Ragnaz nimbly climbed to the top of the structure, only falling to the floor twice(!) and fumbled to strike the rock and light the signal with his grubby hands. Finally his efforts were rewarded with a rush of flame as the warning signal was lit – within moments the answering beacon was visible. Ragnaz surveyed his work with no small amount of pride, and was about to go lord it over his companions when he heard a thunderous bellow and was sent screeching into the arms of a nearby tree.The tower’s wooden supports groaned and snapped as a particularly broad ogre slammed into them, straining and heaving to the amusement of his fellows. Finally, with a roar of laughter and a thunderous cracking, the tower gave way, hemorrhaging screeching goblins and trinkets everywhere. Maggort Gutsplitter let out a slow breath of relief as he released the tower from his iron grip, letting it crash to the ground in splinters. The other ogres chuckled uproariously and one slapped him on the shoulder, with the largest and most colorful of the six handing him a small bag of coins, tricorn hat only just concealing his glee, “Alright Maggort, ye said ye would do it and ye did it, good work!” The Maneater and sweating champion locked arms as the bag exchanged hands, then they all sat down to eat the remaining guards and outline their plan for the upcoming raid – there was an entire Dwarven city beneath that goblin camp, and no Bull worth his salt was going to let a bunch of filthy gobbos stand between him and wealth