You're all familiar with my ongoing Iron Grudge campaign by now. It's the mother of all background stories, a great overarching story line into which most of my Narrative Battle Reports are tied in one way or another. Now this massive campaign has experienced yet another fresh event!
High King Ungrim Ironhelm has led his duardin legions on a crusade against the ever-present threat of Waaagh! Urgokh, and was last seen leading his forces through forested lowlands after clearing a tribe of grots from the Sneakpass. Ungrim has sent out forage parties, scouts and vanguards to keep an eye out on their surroundings as they march, but now a different kind of plan has come to fruition...
The lighting on the pics is a bit off, so sorry about that. Without further ado, let's get to it!
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"I hopes ya chokes on yer tongue, ya no-gud squig farmer..." Wolfboss Elgar muttered under his breath while listening to the orruk's endless boasting.
"...And den I bashed 'im wiv 'is own... wait, wut did ya say, runt?" Boarboss Smaka asked, ceasing his colourful storytelling to turn and look at Elgar.
"Oooh nuffink, nuffink! I's just thinkin' t'meself dat ya must be da greatest boss around 'ere! So much bashin'!" the grot leader replied, not wanting to cause any trouble.
His tribe of nomad grots had been sent an urgent message some days ago, to join the main Waaagh! immediately. The duardin were on the march in the region and had recently defeated Urzy da Sneaky 'Un and his grots guarding the Sneakpass. The message had been a call to war. Elgar, however, had grown tired of being pushed around by Big Bossy Warboss Urgokh. The endless war the dumb brute was waging on the duardin kingdom was dragging out, and while any self-respecting greenskin should enjoy this opportunity of endless warfare, Elgar was getting tired of it.
Not because fighting wasn't fun, oh no! He loved fighting. What he disliked in Urgokh's Waaagh! was the enemy. Once, his tribe had lived a joyful live in the foothills just west of here. They had ridden across the endless plains in their chariots and astride their beloved wolves, sacking human towns and raiding caravans. Success after success. After being forcibly added to the ranks of the Waaagh! the tribe had known very little fair fighting and even less spoils of war. Standing in a howling greenskin battleline while getting pounded from afar by duardin boom-tubes was not fun, not at all.
He had began dreaming of a return to the tribe's roots, back to the days of easy spoils and carefully picked victories.
"Hey! Runt! Was ya not listenin'?!"
What an intolerable idiot, thought Elgar.
"Of course I dids! Very gud bashy stories ya have," he managed, partially through clenched teeth. All around them his grots marched along, some on wolves and others on foot. They had been postponing the arrival at the Waaagh!'s camp at Bochenfels by several days now, zigzagging their way across the forested lowlands. Elgar still had no intention to arrive any time soon.
A mob of orruks had been sent to hurry him on his way. Boarboss Smaka had ridden to them in his rattling chariot, accompanied by a retinue of both Arrerboyz and Boarboyz, and began pushing grots around. For all of Smaka's efforts to speed up the tribe's journey, they didn't seem to come any closer to the Waaagh!. Elgar knew this land better than any orruk, so he could drive his tribe in circles again and again without the Boarboss noticing anything. He was in fact starting to enjoy this little game.
"There's more of them than we anticipated, master Dorinsson," one of the rangers to his left blurted out.
"Ah, humbug! There's just the right amount fer our trap, beardling! Any less and this ambush wouldn't even be worth doing," Burlok replied, laughing heartily.
His warriors seemed to gain some confidence from that. Good. The enemy numbered at least twice as much as he would've liked.
"Prime yer guns and wind yer crossbows, lads. This is it," he commanded, picking up his own crossbow from where it was leaning against a stonewall. Whispers and gestures were passed down the lines and along the flanks. Everything was set.
"No they's not. Lotsa ruins around 'ere in dese lands. Trust me, oh hairiest of boarlords!" Elgar answered flatteringly, suppressing a sneer. This was exactly the place they'd visited not too long ago.
"No! Ya's lyin', runt! Dat roight dere is me dung-tree from da camp!" Smaka roared as he pointed at one of the trees they were passing by. Things were getting heated up.
"Errr..." the Wolfboss hesitated.
"Ya know, I can's exp---," he began, but was suddenly interrupted. A bolt had whistled past his pointy ear.
Then the ruins erupted in a barrage of bolts and bullets. A punishingly long series of bow-twangs and gun-booms sounded from all around the greenskins, and a hail of missiles swept into their ranks like a downpour. Nearly half the Wolf Riders trotting in the forefront toppled from their saddles or came down with their mounts, riddled with protruding bolts and bullet-holes.
Before the initial shock had even passed, a roaring line of duardin Warriors charged from the cloud of gunpowder-smoke, ramming into the Wolf Riders and hacking them to pieces with vicious axework. Grots died in droves and only a couple of wolves managed to lash back at the attackers, biting into necks before getting chopped down in turn. It was a bloody massacre.
Boarboss Smaka was already screaming commands, urging his Boarboyz to advance while lashing his whip at the Arrowboys to spur them into action. Soon a cloud of crooked shafts flew out to meet the charging duardin, several of which tumbled on the run with arrows in their mail hauberks.
Back at the main column Elgar regained his own senses and kicked some courage into his infantry. The cloaked speargits screamed out, their voices trembling with fear and hatred in equal measure, and they engaged the Warriors standing among a sea of Wolf Rider carcasses. Spears and axes exchanged blows in quick succession. Bearded folk were ran through even as they were still separating green heads with their swings.
While a whirling melee was still going on between the speargrots and the Warriors, a mob of arrer-grots dared to approach the duardin Thunderers priming their handguns behind a length of wall. They stepped closer and unleashed a volley from their shortbows, a rain of little arrows that made a couple of peeking duardin faces disappear from behind the wall.
Elgar was still shouting out commands to his grots struggling with the enemy. The numbers of his spearmob had dwindled a little too fast for his liking, and the duardin seemed to enjoy the carnage a little too much.
"Wuz goin' on 'ere?" came a high-pitched voice from behind the Wolfboss. Elgar spun around in the saddle to see the tribe's Shaman trotting by. The grot wizard came to a halt beside his leader, eyeing the battlefield.
"Dis better be gud. I had's to walk all da way from da back t' da front."
"Ya been eatin'g 'shrooms again? I told's ya dey're fer bash-time, not no-bash-time!" Elgar chastised his rather obviously shroomed mage.
"No matter. I needz ya t' help a bit 'ere. We's getting stuffed."
Loud cracks and booms of gunfire resumed. The Thunderers had finished reloading their weapons. The grot archers who had crept closer took the brunt of it, over half of them falling to the volley like a scythe had swept across theit formation.
"Wut wus it again..."
"Hurry ups, Dribbles, we's getting chopped up!" Elgar advised. The thin line of speargrots between him and the duardin was almost non-existent already, with only two grots facing overwhelming numbers surrounding them.
The Boarboyz were down to a single rider, and Smaka's chariot had taken quite the pounding. Axes were stuck to its wooden frame, the driver was missing an arm and one of the boars had been taken down, but still the Boarboss kept thrusting his spear into the press of enemies. A duardin warrior grabbed the chariot's side, attempting to pull himself up for a hammerswing, but Smaka's fist was faster and the duardin was sent sprawling.
"A-ha! Now I has it!" Shaman Dribbles exclaimed suddenly. The delved into the depths of his dark cloak, drew out a handful of small mushrooms and stuffed them into his nostrils while chanting some nonsense. Elgar watched the duardin decapitate the last two grots before turning to look at him. They were only some paces away.
The Shaman's chanting intesified as he drew back his head, raised his hands and shot forth a blast of bright-green Waaagh! energy. The magical projectile smashed into the duardin, sending smouldering warrior corpses rolling across the grass.
"Dat gud enuf?" the Shaman asked his liege.
"Real gud, yas, but we' gotta get outta here," Elgar nodded and turned his wolf away from the enemy.
"Wait, wut?" Shaman Dribbles asked, raising his skirts and setting out after the Wolfboss. They ran for the relative safety of the orruk Arrowboyz, who stopped in their tracks and sent a volley at the duardin giving chase. Caught in the open, the Warriors suffered horrible casualties.
As if this wasn't enough, the remaning grot archers saw an opportunity for easy prey and charged the two remaining duardin with their rusty daggers.
The two Warriors were easily overrun by the grots. Brewmaster Dorinsson saw this from his perch, standing on top of the stonewall and overseeing the events. One boar rider, one chariot, a couple of lonely grots and the leaders hiding in the mob of orruks. Lovely.
"Up and at 'em, lads! Let's show these beasts whose lands they're trespassing!" he roared, and his rangers replied as one.
"Khazuk! Khazuk! Khazuk!"
From behind the ruins and lengths of walls, the ambushing duardin strode forth. Thunderers marched in from the flank while Dorinsson's own rangers approached from the front. It was time to finish this dirty business.
The handguns boomed, and grots fell. The crossbows sang, and the orruks fell. The grot and orruk archers were both annihilated by a deluge of iron bolts and lead shot.
Even the remaining duardin Warriors gained a new burst of energy and tore into the orruks they had been struggling with the entire time. The chariot was down to Boarboss Smaka himself, with the boars and the driver already bleeding out on the grass.
"Come an' get sum!" Smaka raged defiantly as the plunged his spear into yet another duardin's guts.
As the last of the orruks let out an "örgh" and fell to the ground with a trio of bolts in his chest, Elgar turned to his Shaman with his eyes wide in fear.
"I fink we's done fer. Dere's nuffink for us 'ere. I says we runs fer it."
"And we leaves da orruks t' get stomped by da stunties?" the Shaman asked in puzzlement while holding a hand to his bleeding side, from which a bolt was sticking out.
"Dat's da best buggin' fing I've 'eard ya say in a bit. Wonder we didn't do dat sooner..."
Exhausted by their prolonged struggle with the orruks, the Warriors finally drew back to let their rangers finish the work. Smaka was still standing in his stationary chariot wreck, swinging about with his spear and yelling profanities at the enemy. His last remaining Boarboy pulled himself up from the ground, from beneath the carcass of his slain mount.
Crossbows thrummed in unison and both greenskins were filled with bolts.
As the rangers lowered their weapons and warriors began searching the bodies for signs of life, the Brewmaster raised a hand to shadow his eyes in order to see across the field. Wolfboss Elgar pulled the Shaman to the saddle and both of the grot leaders raced off into the forests.
Dorinsson sighed. The target got away.
After sweeping the field for survivors, fallen kinsmen and further enemies, the duardin gathered around the Brewmaster.
"Not bad for a bunch of beardlings like you! We decimated the greenskin nomads quite efficiently, eh? Too bad their boss got away, but that's what those slippery grots tend to do. Well get him next time!" he said, thrusting his tankard towards the skies to draw cheers from his audience. Luckily he went nowhere without it.
"Gather up our blessedly few fallen and let's get back to Ungrim. He'll want to hear this, I wager!"
Taking their dead with them and leaving the enemy corpses to rot in the sun, the victorious ambushers of Brewmaster Burlok Dorinsson headed back to the main army to report the news.
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A crushing victory for the duardin!
Even with less points to use, the ambushers were in a very strong position to begin with. My opponent got a double turn right after the initial ambush, however, turning the tide momentarily. Luckily my Warriors held their ground long enough for my missile troops to clean up the table.
We still had turns left in the game when we called it a day, and both Elgar and the Shaman were still on the field. As per the rules no model can leave the table during a battle by walking off the table edge, but my opponent made a suggestion I couldn't refuse... As the Wolfboss and his companion would probably have died anyway, my opponent surrendered with them still alive and we agreed that this rebellious grot leader would try something suicidal.
In game terms, my opponent exchanged his character's life for a promise that the character would try to cause mischief in his army. In terms of the story, Wolfboss Elgar managed to slip away and is now headed to the Waaagh! encampment with his treacherous thoughts.
Greenskin infighting inbound!
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