Battle of Twinpoints

Seventh and final battle of the Twilight Prince campaign!

2000 points marking the zenith of the entire league, I know fielded most of my available Free Peoples collection. My army had to change their allegiance from Free Peoples to Order: Anvilgard in order to accommodate enough artillery and heroes for it to work, as my collection is based on the old Warhammer Fantasy Empire faction, after all. I got to play against Kuqry's amazind Dispossessed army, except that he also changed his allegiance to a more general level, taking Order: Hammerhal in order to fit in all his models.

So, it was 152 humans against 114 duardin, a total of 266 models on the board. Biggest game I've had in months! We played one of the scenarios in the Nighthaunt Battletome (customised to fit out campaign's theme) in which my Free Peoples march onto the field through a portal, facing a host of mountainfolk that didn't expect our sudden arrival. There were two objectives on the field, one on each end of the board. The rules were simple: if the Free Peoples controlled both of the objectives by the end of the game, they won, but if they controlled neither, they lost. Any other result was a draw, and as a suitably fluffy narrative spice the Dispossessed couldn't use Command Abilities on the first battleround due to, emmm, being surprised.

These two objectives mark the entrance to the dungeon housing the Slaaneshi daemon. Will Fersen and Rosengart be able to defeat the duardin, open the dungeon and defeat the daemon? On with the story!

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After a day's march Breuer's regiment had travelled across the Hyshian plains to arrive at the realmgate that would take them to the daemon's dungeon. With the arcane knowledge of Ernest Rosengart they were able to activate it and traverse into the shadowy Realm of Ulgu, to the Twinpoints, where the scholars assured the goal of their journey would await.

What awaited them was not only the dungeon they were after, but also an entire army of duardin camped right at the gates of the daemon's lair. General Breuer was among the first to ride through the realmgate, appearing at a lightly forested plain right in front of the mountainfolk army. The General couldn't believe his eyes.
"What? Wait, this can't be the location..." the stammered, turning to the rows of lieutenants and sergeants behind him.
"Where's Fersen? I must have words with him. Now."

The officers merely shook their heads, gazing around helplessly. Behind them the rest of the regiment was still marching in, rank after rank of heavily armed freeguilders appearing from the depths of the realmgate. The General saw there was no way to turn them back now.
"We need to rethink the plan. Cease the..."
"You'll do no such thing, General," Gunmaster Fersen interrupted, walking in from among the troops.
"The plan proceeds as we agreed. We need to gain entrance into the dungeon."

"No! There's nothing to 'gain' here, Wolfgang! We can't attack these duardin without reason. We're not at war with them, they're our allies," Breuer insisted, gazing across the wooded fields to see the duardin douse their campfires and gather their weapons warily. They were starting to form a battleline.
"But we have an authorization, general. The Puffington Marshal himself gave clearance to this operation. Who knows, perhaps these duardin are under the influence of the daemon?" Fersen suggested, already loading his repeater pistol's barrels.
"The Marshal didn't know about the duardin. You told us it'd be the servants of the Dark Gods guarding the lair. This is not acceptable!" the General said, still looking at the shieldwall that was forming up steadily in the distance.

"We have no time to go back and ask the marshal, now do we? All we know is that behind these pillars is the daemon we have been tasked with slaying, and these beardy folk stand in our way. They're already readying for battle. What if they indeed are hostile to us, general? We're losing our advantage of surprise as we speak, and this might all end up in a slaughter. Will you risk it?" the Gunmaster asked, cocking the hammer of his gun.
The General was biting his lip. Hesitate now, and the promising attack would fall into disaster. Attack the duardin, who might turn out to be friendly, and they'll all face severe judgement by the Puffington Military Court.

All the while his men were marching out of the gate, forming a battleline of their own. Breuer sighed. His duty was first and foremost to the soldiers who followed him, the men who'd die at his command. Risking their lives with hesitation was not an option. Even if the marshal hadn't been aware of the true nature of the enemy, orders were still orders.

"We attack," General Erhardt Breuer declared.
"Form the lines and advance!"

And so the freeguilders hefted their weapons and marched on, towards the shieldwalls the duardin had formed across the plain. Behind them a swirling pillar of energy marked the goal they were striving for. They had to break the enemy lines and seize the area.

General Breuer rode on with his men. Fersen was left behind to guide the artillery, while Battlemage Rosengart joined the men in the front line. On the far right flank Captain Roland Blauenlaufel urged his men onwards, reciting pompously how these 'treacherous duardin' were standing in the way of the freeguilders' righteous goal.

Then the battle kicked off. Helstorm Rocket Batteries and cannons spewed their deadly payloads into the duardin lines, the rockets tearing apart the formation of Thunderers in the middle. A cannonball hurtled through the ranks of duardin warriors on the left flank, punching a bloody hole into their shieldwall.

Handguns, pistols and blunderbusses barked all across the human lines, their puffs of smoke proceeding the pained grunts and screams from among the ranks of the mountainfolk. The crew of the duardin cannon atop the rocky left flank hill was swept low by a fusillade of arquebus-fire, silencing the enemy artillery for good.

Despite heavy casualties in the opening moments of the battle, the duardin did not falter. They returned fire, unleashing a hail of lead and flames that struck the freeguilders flat on the nose. The first ranks of swordsmen, Greatswords and militia fell dead on their tracks as the mountainfolk showed what it is to stand in the ironsights of an elder race.

The humans didn't flinch either, keeping up their pace and marching steadily over the moaning forms of their fallen brothers. It was as if this place somehow suppressed fear, feelings and thoughts.

A Runepriest rode out of the duardin lines atop a roaring aquadroth, a fearsome beast that displayed its powers by spitting out a freezing jet of water on the swordsmen formation before it. The men raised their shields, but the water doused a good handful of them so badly that they fell to the ground with surprise written all over their blackening, frost-bitten faces. As if that wasn't enough, the aquadroth fell upon them like a predator. Its claws tore men limb from limb, its jaws beheading those who couldn't sidestep in time and its massive tail sending men flying like ragdolls.

All across the plain the battle was joined as the freeguilders grit their teeth and pressed through the withering counter-fire. Many never reached the duardin lines as handgun shots and gouts of alchemical flame left them struggling on the bloody ground, crying for their mothers to help them as they bled out.

The Greatswords disappeared in a storm of fire as the Irondrakes on the right flank directed their flamethrowers right at the advancing men, turning the Puffington Empire's elite into a pile of charred corpses in a matter of seconds. None of the Greatswords ever even saw a duardin up close this day.

Thanks to the covering frie provided by the handgunners on the left flank, the Halberdiers reached the enemy lines in relatively good condition. They voiced their warcries and charged into the warrior shieldwall with a resounding crash, their halberds swinging over the duardin shields to catch their bearers. In return they received a steady flow of axe- and hammerblows, as well as a duo of shield-riding Thanes that made killing humans a race between brothers, with both lords keeping track of the halberdiers they slew.

The Irregulars had lost nearly half their number in the enemy barrage, and their advance had slowed so that the Longbeards marched up against them, charging the human militia while grumbling about how in the olden days enemies could still reach you and there was no need to counter-charge. They hacked away at the panicking militiamen with rune-carved ancestral axes and hammers, shattering ribcages and cleaving limbs with each strike. Only Captain Roland kept the lines in check, shouting out threats and encouragement as he lay about him with a shiny relic blade. Unlike normal weapons, this instrument was up to the quality of duardin equipment, slicing through breastplates and helmets to cause some casualties back at their assailants.

Casualties were horrendous on both sides, but the freeguilders were still not making any progress towards the swirling pillar of energy behind the duardin lines. The backline artillery, guided by the coldly practical commands of Wolfgang Fersen, inflicted terrible casualties upon the enemy. The cannon blast apart its duardin counterpart atop the rocky hill, the rocket battery's salvos decimated the duardin warriors fighting the halberdiers in the middle and well-directed handgun-fire swept another warrior unit from the left flank in one go.

Up close and personal, however, the duardin were triumphant. The two Thanes carved bloody paths through the halberdiers, who were locked in place by the heroism of the duardin shieldwall. The human militia overwhelmed and almost overcame the Longbeards, but the grim duardin elders still held their ground against the innumerable enemy. All the while the Irondrakes spat fire and brimstone at those who made the mistake of coming into their view.

For a moment the battle hung in the balance, with both sides taking heavy casualties and holding the ground they had gained. Then the scales tipped, and they tipped in the favour of the duardin.

The duardin shieldwall in the middle rose up to the call of their duo of lords, rising from behind their shields and overcoming the halberdiers. They were slain to the very last man.

The aquadroth charged the handgunners in the rear, dousing them in freezing water before smashing their lines apart with its massive spiked tail.

The human Irregulars dispatched the remaining Longbeards under the leadership of Captain Roland, but their shouts of triumph soon died out. The Irondrakes opened fire, washing the human masses with rather generous amounts of alchemical fire. Cheers turned into screams and human torches ran off into the woods, while other turned to ashes where they stood.

When the streams of fire finally abated, revealing yet another pile of burned human carcasses, Captain Roland threw down his relic blade and battered shield, raising his hands to the air.
"STOP! We yield! We yield!"

The militiamen dropped their weapons, following their leader's example. The handgunners did likewise, setting their arquebuses slowly to the bloodied ground.
"That's right, umgis, place 'em down, nice an' slow" the Runepriest called down from atop his aquadroth, still brandishimg one of his throwing axes in a raised hand.

The artillery crews stepped away from their weapons and set their tools aside. The crossbowmen threw their weapons into the nearby woods. General Breuer looked around him as his regiment surrendered. He too let his longsword clatter to the ground.
"Come on, Rosengart, follow suit. We've decisively lost here today," he said to the wizard softly. Ernest was still grasping his staff and grimoire.
"No! We cannot abandon the quest now. General, order your men to resume fighting! The key must be delivered to that vortex there!"
"I will not. Drop your weapons, mage, or I'll come and get them from you myself," Erhardt Breuer growled. His eyes were locked on the wizard, daring him to try his luck. Rosengart spat on the ground and placed his book and staff on a nearby rock.

Breuer nodded.
"Master duardin! We're quite done here now, so if you'll accept our surrender I'd be more than happy to talk!" he called out to the shield-riding Thanes. The duardin lords looked at each other, then one of them nodded slowly.

The battle was over.

The freeguilders were rounded up and stripped of their wargear. They were guided to sit in small bundles all across the corpse-strewn battlefield under the stern gazes of angry duardin warriors, but their leaders were brought to the Thanes.

Battlemage Ernest Rosengart, Gunmaster Wolfgang Fersen, General Erhardt Breuer and Captain Roland Blauenlaufel all knelt before the two duardin lords. From atop their shields they eyed the defeated men who had led their regiment against the sons of Grungni in open hostility. Both Thanes leaned on their axes and every now and then exchanged a couple of words in Khazalid. The human fear and uncertainty hanging above the Twinpoints was almost palpable.

Finally one of the duardin lords clambered down from his shield, picked up Roland's decorated relic sword from the ground and walked up to one of the bunches of prisoners. Scared and weary human faces looked up at the Thane who inspected the lowly spearmen and gunners that sat on the ground, defeated. Then he placed the blade in one terrified swordsman's hand and muttered a few words in common tongue.
"Do what is right, lad."

Then the duardin army picked up their gear and walked away into the woods, muttering something about honourless smooth-cheeks and leaving the kneeling human leadership helpess in the middle of the battered remnants of their regiment.
"Good, now we can finally end this farce," General Breuer sighed in relief, smiling warily.
"Give me the sword, good man."
The swordsman took along look at the magical blade in his grasp, and then gazed back at the other men who were slowly rising to their feet from where they had been rounded up by the duardin. They all looked rather angry.

"Come now," Breuer repeated, sensing the growing tension in the air. Rosengart, Blauenlaufel and Fersen noticed it, too.
"We must retain our senses and act like proper gentlemen now. Let us not do anything too harsh..."
The men in their muddy uniforms and bloody rags began shuffling towards the kneeling officers, their eyes burning with sorrow and vengeance. The swordsman gave the relic blade a couple of mock swings in the air, testing out its balance. The weapon's edge emitted short, sharp whizzes as it went.
"You see that pile o' ash o'er there, sir? Some o' that dust used t' be me elder brother," the swordsman spat out in a tone that mocked proper military etiquette. He was pointing at the embers of the Greatswords.

"By the gods..." Breuer gasped as the freeguilders closed in.

Nothing has been heard of Breuer's Regiment since. The regiment that went into Ulgu and never returned.

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Major Victory for the Dispossessed!

Of all those 152 models I placed on the field at the start, only 36 models (~23,67%) survived until the end. What a slaughter! The duardin got a nice double-turn at the start and proceeded to win every initiative roll in the game, thus depleting my numbers badly before I got to bring them to bear.

The mountainfolk skillfully stopped my human horde in its tracks by charging in to meet me, even though they lost their Shieldwall ability for that turn. I never even got close to the objective! And yeah, those Irondrakes are truly terrifying. I've got to get a bunch of those for my own Dispossessed army, too...

This was it, the Twilight Prince campaign! Seven games in total, with a short story in between most of them, and the entire adventure is now wrapped up. It was an enjoyable campaign that allowed for some pretty sweet storytelling, and featured some epic battles!

The progress will be archived in the Campaigns section, as usual. Now some painting and army-building in preparation for the next story-driven campaign!