lauantai 28. tammikuuta 2017

Local League: Bloody Glory

Hi everyone!

Last week I joined an Age of Sigmar league in my local gaming store and began posting about my Aelf warband's progress. Well, yesterday we played the second 500p game in the league and I got paired with my regular greenskin opponent who you're all familiar with from many of my Narrative Battle Reports.

I also want to make a correction to my previous post: major victories are indeed 3 League Points each, while minor victories are worth 2 League Points (rather than just 1 which is what I told you previously).

Before delving further into the game itself I'd like to show you the list I used!

The pic is a bit grainy and unfocused, I was in a bit of a hurry while taking it. So this time around my list consisted of:

1x Loremaster
10x Spireguard
5x Reavers
1x Repeater Bolt Thrower

And as you can see I've got two units fully painted already, the Spireguard and the Reavers! More closer pics on them at the end of this post, now it is time to see how this warband fared against the many perils of the league!

The scenario we played was Blood and Glory and my opponent's army consisted of Savage Orruk Arrowboys, Orruks with shields, Orruk Boarboys, an Orruk Warboss and a Grot Shaman. I got the first turn and the game began!
By Grungni, that Bolt Thrower is good when a Loremaster casts the Hand of Glory upon it! The main events of the first two rounds were the total annihilation of the Boarboys on the first turn and the 70% casualties of the Arrowboys on the second, both caused by the ridiculously accurate volleys of ithilmar bolts! My Reavers also managed to take 3 Wounds off the enemy Shaman, leaving him hiding behind that ruined building with only 1 Wound remaining.
At the start of the third battleround everything seemed to be going well for the Aelves, their enemy's two most useful units had been pretty much decimated and their wizard was in his death throes. But what happened next was nothing short of pure tactical brilliance (and a good bit of orrukish luck)...
The Orruks, the Warboss and the Shaman were all hiding in the ruined building as my Aelves rained arrows and bolts upon them, while the three remaining Arrowboys took shelter behind the huge rock that looked like one of the orruk deities. All their heroes buffed the 10 Orruks to the max, giving them extra attacks, +1 To Hit and a Mystic Shield before sending them to charge my Spireguard. Their Arrowboys creeped closer and in an uncharacteristically accurate feat of marksmanship shot down one of my Bolt Thrower's crew, halving the efficiency of the warmachine.

My Spireguard naturally took a good beating as the Orruks-on-steroids rolled into them like the fist of Gork (or possibly Mork) himself, but they held and thanks to the presence of the Bolt Thrower I managed to maintain the control of the objective they were sitting on. The rest of the game was a grinding melee for the possession of that same objective, my Spireguard suffering heavy casualties under the pressure from both the Arrowboys and the Orruks but always taking enough enemies with them to the afterlife that I never lost the objective. My Reavers managed to take one of the enemy objectives and kill the Shaman before the Warboss slaughtered them, and the Arrowboys finally shot down my warmachine's last crew member, rendering it useless.

Then it all came down to the two objectives in my deployment zone...

There was still a possibility of a Greenskin major victory if they managed to claim all four objectives as the fighting of the final battleround took place in my end of the table. I had lost my chance for such a glorious achievement many rounds ago so I merely focused on keeping him from crushing me utterly.
Their Warboss charged into my Loremaster guarding one of my objectives alone, managing to wound him but not killing the brave Aelf. The Spireguard were fighting the remnants of both the Arrowboys and the Orruks, both of which finally lost their buffs and bonuses as they expired and the heroes giving them were dead or too far away. Each time an Aelf fell he took an Orruk with him, keeping me one model ahead of the attackers.

The champion of the Spireguard got named Watch Master Imladrik after his considerable feat of almost surviving three melee attacks (each powerful enough to slay him twice over) from Stormfiends in the last game, rolling 6, 6 and a 5 with his 6+ Save before getting ground to dust. This time I rolled his dice separately to track his performance, and I couldn't have been more surprised. While the regular Spireguard struggled to stay alive and not killing anyone in the combat phase, Imladrik danced into the fray with his sword flowing like quicksilver, felling Arrowboys and Orruks each turn!
As the combat in the final battleround began, he heroically slew the last remaining Arrowboy and scored me their points while his two remaining underlings just managed to keep themselves from dying. The objective was secure!

Then all eyes turned to the duel between the Warboss and the Loremaster, a final round of combat that would decide who took the objective. We were the last league players to still have our game unfinished, and this final duel gathered a great audience.
The Warboss drunk his Battlebrew to gain +2 to both Hit and Wound rolls and yelled a Waaagh! on himself, projecting 7 auto-hitting auto-wounding Rend attacks into my Loremaster hanging on 3 wounds. My Loremaster stood in cover which negated the effects of his Rend, so I carried on to roll those 4+ Saves...

And I failed only a single one! The Loremaster wove a web of steel around him with his greatsword, saving 6 and only taking that one damage! The boar and the retaliation from the Aelf did nothing so the game ended with both of us still controlling two objectives. We calculated the points and we were even.

It was a draw, so the league organizer gave us both 1 League Point. Yay!

So my Aelves have now earned their first League Point and I think I'm starting to get a hang of how the army plays. Many units like the Bolt Thrower are good but squishy, and I hope that in the bigger games I can spare a unit to protect them which in 500p games was quite difficult.
Imladrik is earning himself a fair reputation and I'm considering dubbing him Imladrik Beastbane for his succesful encounters with orruks and giant rats, perhaps even decorating his base with some bloody heads...
The next game will be a 1000p Border War so I need to get planning my army list options for Wednesday. The currently leading player (Skaven) has 5 League points in total so I have some spurting to do.

Here are the unit pics I promised, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy following this warband's rise to fame!


keskiviikko 18. tammikuuta 2017

Local League: Baptism by Fire


After the recent megabattle I decided to start small again and joined a league at my local game store with my newly acquired Aelves.

We play once a week: two 500p games, three 1000p games and finally a single 2000p for a total of six games, of which the four most successful will count towards the League Point total. Each major victory is worth 3 League Points, while a minor victory is 1 League Point. The scenarios are the Matched Play ones from the General's Handbook, with Escalation replaced by the final 2000p game which will be a special scenario.

We played the first games today and my 500p list looked like this:

1x Archmage
10x Spireguard
5x Reavers
2x Warhawk Riders

The scenario we played was Take and Hold and I got paired with Clan Skryre Skaven, confronting an Arch-Warlock, 5 Skryre Acolytes and 3 Stormfiends.

The Skaven player got to start the first battleround and advanced relentlessly with his Warlock and Stormfiends. Lets just say that his armoured fist of heavily armed rat brutes brushed aside my Spireguard and the Archmage, while my Reavers managed to take two Wounds off his Warlock.
My Reavers then shot and charged the Warlock, meaning to kill him and start running circles around the Stormfiends, but the pesky rat-hero was left on 1 Wound and promptly slaughtered my Reavers with his melee attacks and a one-use warpflame spew. Ouch.
The Warhawk Riders did better as they shot down one of the Acolytes, making three more run away in fear. By then they were my only unit on the table and they shot the enemy Warlock to death before charging and skewering the lonely Acolyte.
We ended the game at the halfway mark of battleround 4 as the Stormfiends could not hope catch me and I simply could not kill them all before the game would have ended on round 5. None of us controlled the objectives on the board so the end result was decided by enemy units destroyed: 200 points for me, 400 points for my opponent. He scored 1 League Point with this minor victory and my Aelves got their baptism by fire under the heavy fusillade of warpshot and -flame!

The board as the game drew to its conclusion
Next week we are playing the Blood and Glory scenario with 500p lists, let us hope that my Aelves will fare better then. Here are a few more pics on my army's theme, I currently have 4 models painted and many more to go (I'm aiming to finish this army by the time of that 2000p final game!) :

torstai 12. tammikuuta 2017

Siege of Bochenfels

Greetings to everyone!

Today I come before you with something big. Something really, really big. So big it's humongous. So humongous it's gigantic. So gigantic it's colossal.

A 400+ models mega-game depicting the siege of a large Free People city!

You read me right, me and my regular greenskin opponent have spent the last months planning and building stuff for this grand occasion. The game was played in a living room of an empty house, with worksite lamps to provide the necessary lighting. Here are some details of the game:
- a total of 421 models took part in this enormous battle
- the game took us eleven and a half hours to complete over two days
- the attacking force consisted of 260 Destruction models with troggoths, gargants, giant spiders, orruks of all flavors, grots of all flavors and some snotlings
- the defending force had 161 Order models with men, duardin and artillery
- majority of the models on the board were painted!

This is how we planned the battle to play out: there are 6 objectives in the city, spread out through three zones. Objectives are captured by having more models within 6" of them than your opponent. At the end of the game objectives 1-3 give the controller 1p each, objectives 4 and 5 give 2p each, while objective 6 grants 3p. The attackers could negate enemy points by destroying buildings in the city (10 Wounds, no save) which affects the defender point total by -1. The defenders could do the same by destroying or maiming enemy siege equipment with the attacker suffering -1 for having their bomb unused in the end and -2 for the loss of their battering ram (15 Wounds, 4+ Save).

Complicated, but very simple and straightforward in the end. Breach the city, bash the garrison.
Now let us carry on into the narrative battle report itself...


Bells rang alarm all across the city. Civilians were being directed to the safety of the citadel and other fortified holdouts spread throughout the districts while the garrison rushed to the main gates, some still strapping boots or sword belts on the run. The enemy had arrived sooner than anyone had expected.

Atop the battlements of the gatehouse two figures stood side by side gazing out into the fields beyond, one almost twice taller than the other.
"How long do we have?" asked Count Warwick Lemming, the governor of the city.
His considerably shorter but more muscular companion stood silent for a while, leaning on his double-bladed battleaxe and searching the horizon.
"No more than an hour, I reckon," replied Thane Morek Furrowbrow, captain of the Iron Company duardin in Bochenfels.
"Those buggers can keep up a good pace if their leaders push 'em hard enough."

Warwick sighed. Reports of the enemy approach had arrived only days ago, leaving no time to call in more reinforcements or arrange a mustering. The outposts at the river dozens of miles away should have reported a huge horde like this coming for the city, but there had been only silence. Now the plumes of dust in the horizon were growing in size each passing moment, heralding the doom to come.
"We could face them on the field," the Count suggested. " I have knights."
"Don't be stupid, umgi. Yer knights would be cut down like candles in a thunderstorm."
The duardin drew his pipe from his belt, a sight that the Count had already become familiar with; Thane Furrowbrow was thinking.
"Ye just stay behind these walls and ye'll be fine," the duardin reassured him, filling the air with thick, strangely scented smoke.
"Besides, ye've got my Longbeards and Thunderers to help defendin' yer fair city."

That was true. A contingent of Iron Company mercenaries had happened to be passing through the city when the word of enemy presence had arrived. Fortune was on Warwick's side when he had discovered that the duardin were returning from a job they had finished, so he immediately emptied his personal treasuries to strike a contract with these veteran warriors.
A sudden light caught Lemming's eye. The runes struck into the Thane's axe were glowing now.
"It's thirsty," Morek uttered in a low, rough voice.
"Dreng Baraz. The presence of a hated foe makes it ring with vengeance."
The Count raised an eyebrow.
"Promise of Death, umgi, it's the name of me axe," Morek Furrowbrow said, lifting the weapon to his shoulder. "Now let's get back inside, I can already smell those beasts and I'd rather save myself from such an ordeal..."
Warwick tapped the scabbard of his enchanted longsword at his side for luck before following the duardin down the stony steps behind them.

The plumes of dust covered half the sky when the first ranks of the enemy appeared on he horizon. A dark sea of howling brutes and cackling maniacs that stretched over the land. There was no end to it.
Even huge monsters like Gargant and Arachnarok Spider lumbered amidst the ocean of violence, a giggling Shaman reciting terrifying spells atop the latter.

The men on the walls stared pale-faced at Waaagh! Urgokh that had come to bring destruction and slaughter to their city. The courage of some individuals faltered and they instinctively took steps away from the battlements, but the prospect of seeing their beloved city burn kept every soldier in line. They had to overcome their fear in order to protect their homes.

The defense of the city had been arranged into three lines. The solid stone walls were defended by Archers, Handgunners and duardin Thunderers aided by Lemming's two court wizards: Heavens Wizard Abigail stood on the right tower of the gatehouse, Grey Wizard Emmerich on the left.
Behind them in the courtyard were the massed ranks of Freeguild Guard and Longbeards led by Count Warwick Lemming himself, while further back towards the citadel were the artillery and elite reserves: Helblaster Volley Gun, Mortar and a Great Cannon protected by the valiant Bochenfels Knights and the grim-faced Greatswords, Count's personal bodyguard.

Morek watched the ancestral enemies of his race approach in an endless tide of reckless violence. He gripped the handle of his axe hard, making the leather creak under his armoured palms. The runes struck into the metal were glowing brightly in anticipation of bloodshed. He didn't need to spare a gaze behind him to make sure his Longbeards were ready. He knew they were. His Thunderers had already loaded their handguns with fresh gunpowder and were testing their aim at the incoming horde.
This day would be a day of vengeance for the sons of Grungni.

Warwick looked around him to make sure his garrison was ready. Soldiers stood at their posts, some shifting their weight from one leg to another or making small adjustments to their hats and helmets. Many more were holding amulets and lucky charms of different size and shape, praying silently for deliverance. The men were nervous.
And they had every right to be. A numberless horde of beasts was descending upon their home, eager to see them dead and mutilated. Warwick could feel the weight of his title upon him, the weight of a whole city and all the thousands of souls that made up its inhabitants.
"I will not see my city fall this foul day..." he muttered to himself, straining to look confident and tranquil in the eyes of those who trusted him. He drew his sword and thrust it towards the heavens with a defiant cry on his lips.

"Stand firm, sons of Sigmar! We'll hold these walls until the end of time! Nock your arrows and prime your weapons, for today we shall make the foe bleed out on Bochenfels soil!"

As the Count's warcry was taken up by the whole garrison, echoing throughout the streets and battlements, the invading horde broke into a run. The thundering bellow of joy, anticipation and frustration that erupted from the tide of greenskins easily drowned the defiant cheering from the city defenders, washing over the walls like an ethereal billow.

Warboss Urgokh da Choppa had a wide grin on his scarred green face. His horde had finally reached its target and the actions of his grots had kept his approach a secret until the very last moment. Now he was throwing all his might against this helpless human bastion with mountains of loot and plunder waiting on the other side of those walls.
But it was not food, metals or shiny stuff that he had come for. Unlike most members of his peculiar race, Urgokh had greater plans for this place he could barely pronounce the name of. Plans that he had kept to himself all this time so that none of his incompetent underlings could ruin them like they most often did.

All around him his Waaagh! was running heedlessly towards the walls, eager to start "da big scrap" they had all been promised. At the very head of the assault the Gorkaram was being labored into position by a mob of orruks, a monstrous battering ram infused with curses and spells by Urgokh's many shaman to batter down any gate in a matter of heartbeats. Beside the siege engine a dark sea of hooded creatures scuttled onward, Moonclan Grots carrying the army's second secret weapon: the Morkabomb. A rusty metal sphere filled with stolen black powder and explosive mushrooms, hammered together by the strongest of orruks and blessed with green magic.
With these deadly tools Urgokh had decided to take the city from the pink-skinned weaklings and their stunted helpers.

For a moment there was only the sound of pounding feet as the mass of greenskins closed the distance, but then the reality seemed to explode. The city walls erupted suddenly as Handgunners and Thunderers opened fire, the power behind their shots so great that even orruks were stopped dead in their tracks, blasted from their feet as the bullets rained upon them like hammers from the sky. The Archers joined the carnage by sending clouds of shafts arcing down on the foe, their arrows piercing eyes and hearts of Grots and pin-cushioning their arachnid mounts even as a shell from the Mortar landed amid the Spider Riders, sending bloody green bits flying in all directions.

Having weathered the opening salvo of the city's defenders, the Waaagh! pressed onward undaunted. Even as more shots and shafts poured upon them the orruks put their backs to work and pushed the Gorkaram in front of the city gate despite their losses. Beside them the Moonclan Grots ran face-first into the stone walls, carrying the hulking form of Morkabomb on their backs. Many grots fell as the duardin on the walls strove to put down the carriers of an obviously dangerous siege tool with their terrifyingly accurate gunfire, but there were always more willing hoodlings to take the places of the fallen.

As they jogged into range, the grots and orruks carrying bows put up a rain of death of their own, lobbing innumerable shafts at the men on the walls. Although the crenelations provided excellent cover to those on the battlements, there was no stopping that many missiles sent in one direction. Many Archers and Handgunners fell onto the ramparts, gurgling blood, with crudely crafted arrows protruding from necks and eye sockets.

The Gorkaram was pushed into place, the giant log inside the hide-covered roof was drawn back by strong orruk arms and then let loose with eager warcries speeding its way. Glowing with the power of the twin greenskin gods, the ram contacted with the reinforced gate and blew it to splinters in a resonating wave of magical force. Both sides stood dazzled for an eyeblink, staring at the swift destruction of the city gate in awe before getting back to their senses. Grinning wickedly, the orruks bellowed a mighty "WAAAGH!" and surged into the gap.

The enemy had barely reached the walls and the gate was already down! Handguns and bows were readied once more and brought to bear against the foe, the fusillade of arrows and bullets tearing vast holes into the ranks of the greenskins. Mortar lobbed yet another shell in the air and the citadel's Great Cannon arced a shot into the sea of foes, explosions tearing apart the eager invaders.
Heavens Wizard Abigail wove complicated patterns in the air with his fingers, gathering power for his next spell. With his eyes glowing bright blue, Abigail extended his arms to send crackling whips of chain lightning arcing toward the foe. The bolts hit with the might of gods, spreading the destruction by leaping from orruk to grot and back again while boiling brains, scorching flesh and melting eyes.

As the gate fell and the orruks surged in, the Helblaster Volley Gun on the courtyard opened fire, pouring three barrel-decks' worth of bullets into the green mass. In a shower of gore and sundered shields the orruks were pushed back, the most eager of their number now lying before the gatehouse with fist-sized holes in their corpses.
The Freeguild Guard took action immediately after, running to the gate to form a defensive semicircle that would deny enemy access into the city.

Urgokh da Choppa with his Arboyz bodyguard on the bottom left
Urgokh hung back with his Ardboyz bodyguard and the other elite mobs. He was content to let the innumerable hordes of regular orruks and grots wear down the enemy before he would send his real fighters into the fray.
The defenders were making a decent job in slaughtering his worthless underlings, though, that much the Warboss had to admit. As yet another volley of shafts from the walls cut down a swathe of orruk archers in front of him, causing several others to skulk away from the battlefield in terror, Urgokh turned his gaze to the Morkabomb being set against the walls by his grots. The first real punch was about to be dealt.

A giant shockwave shot forth from the walls, followed by a thick cloud of green-black smoke. Chunks of stone, grot and duardin rained from the sky like downpour. As the dust settled the real devastation was revealed: the Morkabomb had blown away a whole section of the city walls along with many Grots, Thunderers and Freeguild Swordsmen! A ragged cry of exhilaration went up from the dry throats of the greenskins, drowning the desperate moans and wails of the terror-struck garrison as they watched their defenses fall.

Heavens Wizard Abigail stood on top of the tower nearest to the explosion. The power of the blast blew away parts of the tower and threw Abigail into the furthest corner, half his ribs broken, an eye blinded and his right arm displaced.
Thane Morek Furrowbrow picked himself up from the ramparts, shaking dust off his ornate armour. He was intact but his troops were definitely not: nearly half his Thunderers had disappeared with the collapsing wall, lost in smoke and rubble. As he gazed down into the breach the could see some of them stirring and rising from the debris, although too many lay there unmoving.
"Get up lads! There's no time fer respite now that the real killin' starts. Hold the breach!"

Hurrying to obey their Thane's commands without hesitation, the surviving Thunderers picked themselves up from the rubble and formed ranks in the breach, sporting their weapons towards any who dared take even a single step closer from outside the city. The Moonclan Grots took up the challenge and ran into the gap, screaming on the top of their little lungs as they plunged into the thin duardin line.

At the main gate the orruks had recovered from the punishing storm of lead unleashed by the Helblaster and flooded in with renewed vigor. Grey Wizard Emmerich muttered his incantations atop the tower to summon a purplish fog around the gatehouse. The mysterious fog descended onto the charging orruks who to their disbelief found the strength sapped from their arms, the spell slowly but surely numbing their battle skills.
This did nothing to halt the charge whatsoever, and the green fist slammed into the awaiting shieldwall. Spears snapped, shields splintered and skulls cracked as the two tight formations vied to break each other and trample the opposition to the ground.

The walls of Bochenfels had already been breached in two places, thus far defended valiantly by the desperate defenders. But how long could they hold out with ever more foes streaming into the fray from the corpse-strewn fields outside the city?

The orruks had charged through the gate only to impale themselves on the bristling wall of spears and blades waiting for them inside. With the eagerness and lack of self-defense typical for their race the green beasts leaped into the enemy ranks with all their weight, bending but not yet breaking the shieldwall. Heavy choppas and mauls whirled in the air, cracking open human helms and the skulls they protected while disciplined spear and sword strokes thinned the numbers of the orruks at an alarming speed.

The Thunderers in the breach were getting overwhelmed by the mobs of grots set against them. One by one they fell to the constant stabbing of crooked spears, each duardin death clearing the way into the city beyond.
Morek glided down the pile of rubble, descending from the walls to stand in the breach.
"Longbeards, to me!" he bellowed above the din of battle that raged on around them.
The veteran warriors responded instantly and ran to their liege lord, each duardin locking his shield with the clansman on each shoulder to form an impenetrable wall of gromril shields. Right behind the Longbeards a group of Freeguild Pistoliers rode into position, ready to pour pistol-fire at anything trying to break through the duardin line.

When the last of the Thunderers succumbed to his wounds and toppled into the rubble, the ranks of the Moonclan Grots parted to reveal yet another secret weapon. Four Fanatics burst forth, screaming like the mushroom-fed maniacs they were, spinning enormous iron balls attached to a length of chain. Whirling across the breach the Fanatics crushed into the Longbeards, breaking shields and sending bloodied warriors to the ground. Yet this was not the first time these veteran duardin had fought such an enemy and soon the shieldwall parted, funneling the Fanatics into gromril-clad alleys where they were swiftly bludgeoned to a gory pulp.
"Hold formation! Let's show 'ese buggers what it means to fight a regiment of proper duardin!" Thane Furrowbrow declared with his axe held high, drawing nods and grunts of approval from the Longbeards around him.

At the gate the Freeguild Guard pushed forward in unison, driving the greenskins back and cutting them down rank after rank. Soon all that was left of the orruk assault was a heap of bleeding corpses strewn under the shadow of the gatehouse and a Savage Orruk Boss driven against the wall of the tower.
Before they had time to cheer their small victory, however, a mighty bellow echoed through the streets. As the tired soldiers turned their heads, their gazes fell on the Gargant clambering over the castle walls. The giant monster landed sure-footed on the marble street, lifting its club for the first strike. The sweeping tree trunk this Gargant used as his primary weapon sent Longbeards flying in the air like ragdolls, with his enormous feet claiming even more duardin lives as they fell on the armoured regiment, crushing proud warriors to mere gory stains.

The constant exchange of shafts and bullets in the airspace of the city had left vast lengths of the battlements unmanned, with many soldiers slain and the rest concentrated to where support was needed most. The Archers on the walls sent arrows at the approaching Arachnarok Spider, managing to wound the creature badly despite many of their shots merely turn aside by the chitinous shell. Before they had time to loose another volley a mob of howling orruks ran straight into them from the side, having climbed up the walls in an abandoned wall section. Their heavy weapons cut down several of the knife-armed archers swiftly but the humans put up a good fight despite the surprise.

Down on the fields of death Ugrokh had advanced closer to the walls with his bodyguard, anticipating an eventual breakthrough that would mark the charge of his elites. Deep in his thoughts the Warboss strode over slain greenskins, some pierced by shafts, others by bullets and several blackened by blasts from the city's artillery, the Ardboyz around him keeping an eye out for anyone trying to come and harm their boss.
What none of them saw coming was the final defiant acts of Heavens Wizard Abigail. Coughing blood, Abigail rose from the floor of the broken tower top to behold the green tide below him. With his remaining strength he gathered about him the necessary energies for one final spell. Through broken lips and clenched teeth he spoke the words of power, sending a bunch of lighting bolts at the Boarboyz making their way for the main gate.

The chain lightning struck the riders, making one of them scream in agony, the electricity merely dancing upon the crude shields and armour of the others to leap into the mob next to them... led by Urgokh himself.
The pain was like a dozen spears driven into his skull. His world turned from white to red to black, the painful roar of the Warboss echoing throughout the battlefield. Urgokh brought his gnarled hands to his face, and when he lowered them again, a fresh, wide red scar ran across his grimacing face.
"This... the 'umies will pay for!" lifting his giant axe above his head, da Choppa urged his Waaagh! to hasten their work.
"Take 'em down! Crush their walls! Break their backs! Grind their bones!" he kept howling into the tumult of war, secretly worried inside his thick head that his muscle-rippled arm didn't rise quite as high as it used to.

The Cannon on the battlements of the citadel deeper in the city took aim and fired. An echoing boom heralded the beginning of the cannonball's flight, a wet splash the end of it. The Gargant roared as the iron ball punched into its chest before exploding magnificently, showering the Pistoliers beneath with gore and splinters of bone. Tormented by blinding pain the monster stumbled over the Longbeards, crushing duardin like ants beneath its feet.

Savage Big Boss Oggar stood alone at the broken gates, back against the tower wall. All around him the freeguilders were trying to edge closer to land a killing blow, and only the wide sweeps of his axe kept the humans at bay. He was already bleeding from several deep cuts the Swordsmen had inflicted on him, each wound wearing down even his mighty strength. With a bloodcurdling howl he lashed out, his great axe carving apart two fools who had lunged forth thinking they could best Big Boss Oggar!

The combat on the walls went on, the last Archers left on the battlements fighting for their lives. They plunged knives into green throats, toppling some of their assailants dead on the ramparts while many of their own got chopped to pieces or kicked from the walls. The deadly fusillade that had been poured upon the invaders from the very start had now dwindled into a few stray shots loosed by the remaining humans on the walls, with Handgunners and Thunderers all shot down or slaughtered in short bloody melees all across the length of the defenses. Now with even the last section of the battlements contested, the Arachnarok Spider could climb over the city walls undisturbed.

Boarboyz and a Chariot thundered through the gate and into the lines of the Freeguild Guard, their momentum and monstrous tusks crashing through spears and shields, goring several soldiers and trampling them into the stained marble street.
From the breach a sea of foes washed into the Longbeard shieldwall: vomit-spewing Troggoths, gackling Grots and wayward Squig Hoppers. Thane Morek watched this motley horde running headlong at him and hefted the glowing Dreng Baraz in his hands.
"Khazuk!" he roared, slashing the first leaping Squig in twain with a single blow.
"Khazuk! Khazuk! Khazuk!" his warriors answered in perfect unison, their voices like a physical barrier against which the charge would break.
These numerous foes clashed steel with the duardin, trying to break through and gain access into the city and its immense riches. All this time the warcry of the Longbeards rang clear above the clash of arms, a single word that told their mortal enemies that there would be no backward step. One word in which all their hatred and murderous intent was summarized.


The superior skills and gear of the Longbeards were evident as they felled row after row of grots and squigs with measured strokes of their axes and hammers. Had it not been for the Gargant the duardin could have easily held the breach for many hours, but as the Gargant trampled across the unit it kicked and crushed and swept aside many a warrior, leaving Thane Morek and his followers spread thinly before the vast green sea that poured into them.

The Pistoliers realized their allies' peril and emptied their barrels into the monster's back, their leaden shots piercing through the creature's sun-baked skin deep into the organs. With one final roar the Gargant fell over, displacing a rider's shoulder and flattening more duardin as it hit the ground in an impact that shook the buildings nearby.

The momentum of the Boarboyz and the Chariot began to tell as the human lines faltered. The great Arachnarok Spider at their backs impaled men on its legs and sunk its venomous fangs into those who didn't manage to escape. Two regiments of Freeguild Guard withered quickly under pressure from two sides, the pure-white ground filling with human bodies.
The Moonclan Grots, inspired by the mayhem caused by the Gargant, piled in to overwhelm the last remaining Longbeards under a wave of dark hoods and crooked spears.
Only Furrowbrow stood defiant against the tide, hewing down enemies with mighty swings of his axe. A Troggoth trotted to him, probably thinking the lonely duardin for easy supper, but the dim-witted creature could not have been more wrong. As it extended is clawed arm Morek slashed at it viciously, Dreng Baraz cleaving the limb in twain in a flash of orange light. The Troggoth stared at the stump of its hand that refused to regenerate due to the searing runes on Morek's axe, getting cut down in the next instant as the weapon split its head with the returning blow.

With the Arachnarok Spider wreaking havoc in the back ranks of the Freeguild Guards the first defender reserves were put to use. Bochenfels Knights lowered their lances and began a thundering charge through the main street, closing the distance to the monster swiftly. Like an armoured fist the riders punched into the overgrown arachnid, their lances breaking the carapace and sinking into the soft flesh beneath.
Its form transfixed by half a dozen steel-tipped lances the Arachnarok Spider fell flat on the ground, sending the Shaman riding it straight into the knights to be trampled by the hooves of their mounts.

Two monsters had gained access into the city, and two monsters had been slain by the defenders. The Freeguild Guard at the gate were very few and weary, still exchanging blows with the boar riders even as more grots poured into the streets next to them, the Longbeard lines having been completely wiped away. Only the Pistoliers had ran to the aid of Thane Morek, discharging their pistols into the enemy mass one after another.
Count Warwick galloped to the corner of the nearby street, signalling his Greatswords to join the fray and push the invaders back.

Outside one more mortar shell landed amidst the Savage Orruk Morboys, blowing apart one tattooed screamer. Behind them were orruks carrying giant flint-tipped spears, ready to break the last resistance once the time was ripe.
Grey Wizard Emmerich hurled a shadowy bolt of dark energy into the devices from atop his tower, blasting two spears and their carriers into the corpse-strewn meadow.

Heavens Wizard Abigail stared at his handiwork. The orruk Warboss was still reeling from the spell he had unleashed. A pained smile spread across his face even as he saw a mob of Savage Orruk Arrowboyz taking aim at him in revenge. He had fought well in the defense of his home, scorching many of the invaders as they charged across the fields and even wounding their leader. Stone-tipped arrows clattered on the crenelations around him before eventually three shafts found their marks at the wizard's throat, sending him on his back at the top of the ruined tower.

Seeing it was finally time for the final push, Urgokh roared his orders.
"Get in ya gits! Morboys through the gate, Arboyz wiv me..." he gestured, starting towards the breach in the wall.
Accompanied by howls of joy the Morboys charged under the gatehouse, crashing into the flank of the Bochenfels Knights while the Warboss led his personal retinue into the clash between the Troggoths and the Pistoliers.

Two Squig Hoppers lunged at Morek, the first struck aside by his axe and the second stopped by an armoured fist into the rider's green face. He brought his axe around for another swing, carving deep into the riderless beast's skull before kicking the carcass off his bloody blade. More Troggoths lumbered into the fight under the constant pistol-fire, re-knitting bones and regenerating flesh after each hole blown into their slimy skins.

The arrival of the Morboys supported by the orruk mob descending from the unmanned walls was the end of the brave Freeguild Guard, their last isles of resistance torn apart by the newcomers and the wrath of Big Boss Oggar. Even the Knights struggled to hold these enemies at bay, with nearly half their number getting battered off their mounts by a rain of blows from stone weapons.
A narrow stream of Moonclan Grots managed to slip past the crumbling defenders and waddled towards Count Lemming himself while the Boarboyz raced past the fighting to start breaking the buildings around them.

As the Knights were getting bogged down the Greatswords charged into the grots on the clearing, whirling into their ranks with their shining zweihanders. Lemming himself led his mount into the Morboys, intent on punishing those who would see his city ruined.

Big Boss Oggar, having finished off the last Swordsmen, started towards the freshly arrived Greatswords. Suddenly a shout rang from behind him, stopping him in his tracks.
"Oi, ye big ugly one! Come 'ere an' have taste o' Dreng Baraz!"
Oggar whirled around to see who would be dumb enough to insult him so. His eyes fixed upon a gromril-clad duardin striding towards him from the breach, hefting a battle axe two-handed.
A grin spread across his ugly features as he lifted his own crude axe and ran to meet the challenger. The weapons collided twice in quick succession before the final blow sent Oggar's weapon clattering on the marble in three separate pieces. The runes on the stuntie's axe were glowing almost blindingly bright as the Thane raised his weapon above his head for a killing blow. Oggar surged forward in an attempt to take down his adversary but the duardin was faster. In one clean strike the runic axe clove apart the Big Boss's body from shoulder to waist, leaving the bleeding carcass gliding on the street before coming to a halt.

In mere heartbeats the Greatswords had sliced through the Moonclan Grots, their mangled little corpses dotting the courtyard behind the gatehouse as the soldiers proceeded to engage the Morboys surrounding the Count.

Warwick slashed his longsword across the face of a roaring orruk, his warhorse kicking down another attacker trying to get behind him. No matter how hard he worked, he couldn't land enough blows through the thicket of stone choppas that battered him from all sides. A gnarled hand grasped his pauldron, trying to yank him off his mount. Before he managed to twist himself free yet more hands emerged to catch his reins or armour. He lost the grip on his blade as he was pulled down from his horse, his vision filling with heavy clubs and axes rising and falling, rising and falling.
Count Warwick Lemming, the First Governor of Bochenfels, never lived to see his city fall.

Together the Knights and the Greatswords slaughtered the orruks infesting the courtyard, pressing them in between armoured warhorses and swinging zweihanders. The death of the Count had made them redouble their efforts despite over half of both regiments already lying lifeless on the marble streets.

At the breach only Thane Morek stood between the hordes and the city, hacking at the last Troggoth that kept coming back relentlessly. Many times had Furrowbrow struck the creature to the ground but as many times had the monstrosity picked itself up, regenerating the wounds slowly but surely even with the magic of the runes to hinder such effects. The beast unleashed a stream of vomit at the lonely warrior who only managed to dance aside partially, taking a gobbet of the corrosive substance on his left arm.
"Grimnir's beard, you're a tough brute!" Morek spat as the vomit ate its way onto his flesh, leaving permanent scars on his left arm even beneath the now rapidly dissolving armour.

Urgokh could smell the fall of the city already. He could smell victory. Confident, he charged into the breach himself, the Ardboyz struggling to keep pace with him as they trampled over the grot corpses that spotted the ground at the foot of the walls.

All of a sudden a great crash resounded across the city, clearly audible even above the din of battle and the cries of the dying. The Boarboyz had stormed into the Bochenfels Bazaar, tearing at the support beams until the whole building came down in a shower of timber, stone and smoke!
The crew of the nearby warmachines stared dumb-founded at the careless destruction caused by these maniacs, making themselves easy targets for the grot archers that had climbed the walls and were now manning the ramparts. A volley of arrows flew from the battlements, cutting down all artillerymen save for one and silencing the battery for good.

Morek saw that the situation was hopeless. Along with him and the last human spellcaster on the tower only a handful of Knights and Greatswords remained, with ever more invaders flooding into the city from the breach in the walls.
"Alright umgi, 'tis time to take our leave!" he shouted over to the soldiers while dodging a blow from the Troggoth's club.
"The city's been breached and we don't have the numbers to hold them. We retreat in good order and buy time for the inhabitants to make their escape."
The soldiers nodded grimly to the cold facts stated by the Thane. There was nothing to be done about the city but the civilians could yet be saved if they bought them time.

So it was that the remainder of the garrison made a fighting retreat towards the centre of the city, slowing down the enemy advance on the narrow streets enough to let the inhabitants escape through back gates and postern doors. All artillery had to be left behind, the last artillerymen sabotaging their machines to render them useless to the foe.

Thane Morek Furrowbrow led the maneuver, masterfully directing the diminished forces at his command to use them most efficiently. As he led the surviving soldiers out of the city after the last of the civilians had escaped, Morek cast one more glance over his shoulder. In the settling dusk the once-proud city of Bochenfels burned, left to the cruel attentions of its new masters. The flames consuming this flower of civilization cast red and orange hues to the gathering clouds above, marking the triumph of mayhem over law and order.


This game was the longest, the largest and most epic I've ever played!

In the end the final result hung on the balance, the scores showing exactly 5-5 halfway down the last player turn. What tipped the scales was the very last combat phase where the last three dice rolled marked the destruction of the Bazaar as the Boarboyz hacked away at the building with wild abandon. The whole mega-battle being decided on the last roll of the last dice. Whoa!

As the game drew to a close and we started packing stuff away, we counted the models left on the table.
Yes, of all those 421 models that stood proudly on the board at the start, only 66 survived to the end. That's what I call a brutal battle!

Some honourable mentions on both sides:

Thunderers did some really good work at holding the breach when the walls came down. They stood their ground the whole greenskin turn to let the Longbeards behind them move into position on their own turn when they finally died to a man duardin and the enemies rushed in. How valiant of them!

Thane Morek Furrowbrow was as heroic as a hero can get, slaying droves of Grots, Fanatics, Squig Hoppers, Troggoths and eventually even Big Boss Oggar, all the while holding the breach mainly on his own as other defenders died around him! Being alive to lead the fighting retreat was just a bonus after this impressive list of feats performed during the battle itself.

Aleguzzler Gargant started it slow but picked up the pace as his death drew near, being responsible for the majority of Longbeard casualties and thus clearing the way for the Grots who would otherwise have struggled to get past those re-rollable 4+ Saves!

Moonclan Grots numbered 60 models at the start of the game, carrying the Morkabomb that devastated the city walls during the battle. They soaked up tons of shots from the city's artillery, taking several hits from the Cannon and the Mortar that sometimes claimed even 9 lives at a time, with more running away each time as their bravery dropped for each ten models lost. They battled with the Thunderers for the control of the breach before flooding in to fight the Longbeards, taking horrendous casualties but still fighting on to the streets of Bochenfels where they finally met their doom at the hands of the Greatswords. These nasty buggers played a vital role in creating and clearing the breach that allowed the Waaagh!'s superior numbers to be used against the defiant defenders!

This battle was amazing and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed playing and writing it. I'll be back with some painting projects and perhaps another Narrative Battle Report in the near future.

Until then!