Ambush at Splitstone Mines

Evening everyone!

I'm back with a new battle report up my sleeve, so the story of me and my friend's armies is getting a sequel!

We played the game at our local club, as always, and it was great fun, as always :) This time both of us had very interesting armies set up on the table which resulted in some EPIC clashes between our models!

In this scenario my Duardin will have to get at least one model walk off the table by any table edge while my opponent's greenskins will try to hold my army on the board until Orc reinforcements arrive. Time limit for this game was two hours.

Without any further introduction, read on to find out what happened. I hope you like some lengthy posts!

Runepriest Largs Brokksson and his group of survivors had arrived at Splitstone Mines, another outpost of the Iron Company, on a sunny morning four days after the Battle of the Hollow Hill. Largs and the unit of Thunderers had managed to regroup the fleeing warriors on the way and were now resting at the quarters the garrison commander of the Mines had appointed to them.

The very same evening a sentry at the top of the mine entrance signaled an alarm. The greenskins had come. Despite their recent long march and only a few hours of rest, the Duardin spilled out of the mines to take positions on the yard.

Runepriest Brokksson eyed the enemy lines.
"We're surrounded," he said finally. "Those bastards left us no route to retreat by. Didn't think they'd be that smart."
"Aye, but this is goblin cunning. They'd do everything at their disposal to tip the scales to their favor before engaging us," replied the mine's Engineer, Borek Gadrinsnev. 
"No matter, though, our good ol' Gold Mouth here will give 'em a lesson," the Engineer continued, pointing at the Flame Cannon that was being prepared for battle by its crew of three Dwarves.
"I'll take the command of the Miners on the yard. Remember, our only purpose is to get at least someone out of here to warn Ironhelm and the main army, not to win the fight!" Largs said and walked away, his runestaff and forgehammer already beginning to glow bright as if they were fresh-forged.
"Will do," Borek the Engineer mumbled, loading a missile into his very own invention, the Rocket-Blunderbuss.

The Duardin warriors, those who fled the Hollow Hill and those of the Splitstone garrison combined, formed a shieldwall between the mine and the old staircase, while the Miners along with Largs Brokksson poured out on to the yard.
The mine's low wall was manned by the Thunderers and the Flame Cannon, guided by Engineer Borek Gadrinsnev himself. 
A lone figure took position next to the ruins of the old storehouse, a figure with bright orange hair, eyes locked on the Giant that was stomping its way towards the mine. He was Smakki the Scarred, a wandering Dragonslayer who had also happened to rest at the Splitstone Mines this fateful day it came under attack. There was a promise of a glorious death in the air, a promise as clear as the stinging smell of a Giant's foul breath in the gentle evening wind...

From behind the surrounding hills came the sound of small thumping feet, and soon the horizon was filled with the shafts of crooked spears. The enormous form of Fum the Drunken One also came into view, a Giant with an infernal thirst for fine Dwarven ale!

Goblins riding their wolf and spider mounts surrounded the mine from all directions, coordinated by the screamed commands of Azgar Swiftgit. Now riding to battle upon his ferocious white wolf, Azgar had spent half the day trying to get his warband to understand their positions on the landscape and their targets in the battle. After bashing together a few green heads, he had finally got what he wanted. This act of slaughter was now ready to be played out.

Deciding that the Goblin spearwall was the easiest route out of the mines, Engineer Borek directed the Flame Cannon crew to aim at the oncoming black-hooded horde. Mere seconds later the Gold Mouth spoke out, spitting burning substance in a high arc to fall upon the Goblins whose terrified screams filled the field. Many fell and many turned tail and ran, preferring to keep their pitiful lives at least a day longer.

Borek aimed his Rocket-Blunderbuss at Azgar and his Wolf Riders and pulled the trigger. One of the Goblin riders vanished from its saddle in a gory explosion, but the wolf kept pace with the others.
"Grimnir's beard! I should've blasted the wolf!" the Engineer cursed under his breath while reloading his weapon.

Smakki the Scarred payed little attention to the battle. All he could see was the Giant, all he could think of was the Giant, and all he wanted to do was to kill the Giant or die gloriously in the attempt. He raised his axes in the air and let out a wordless warcry, letting the world hear his insatiable thirst for battle.
Smakki broke into a run, dodging the enormous club that thumped into the ground next to him. He ran in between the Giant's legs and slashed out with his gleaming axes, drawing blood. Fum the Drunken One roared and fell on his knees, leaving his club stuck in the ground as he tried to catch the Slayer with two clumsy hands.
Dissatisfied with the lack of challenge in this fight, Smakki leaped onto the back of the Giant, burying his axes deep into exposed flesh. Another roar of pain echoed across the hills that surrounded the Splitstone Mines.

At the mines the battle was just about to begin. Azgar Swiftgit led his Wolf Riders against the Duardin shieldwall, Goblins racing towards it at full speed while firing arrows from their shortbows. Colourful shields deflected the poorly crafted arrows with ease, while their  bearers braced themselves to receive the impact of the charge.

Elsewhere the Miners moved out to face the Goblin spearwall, determined to hack their way right through it to reach freedom. Runepriest Brokksson's blessings granted each of the Miners a glowing light sphere around them for extra protection.

Meanwhile Fum the Drunken One almost managed to catch Smakki, but the Dragonslayer had already jumped down from the Giants back when the slow hand came reaching for him. Running circles around the Giant, Smakki hacked at his foe while looking for a chance to land the killing blow.
Goblin Wolf Riders on the nearby hill saw that their beloved monster was under dire threat and spurred their wolves towards the fight between a Dwarf and a Giant. Unleashing a volley of arrows from their bows, the Riders hoped to affect the outcome of this clash. As the arrows arced down from the skies it was evident that Gork (or possibly Mork) had granted the Goblins their wish.
One arrow found its mark in the Dragonslayer's thigh, slowing him down momentarily just enough for the Giant to get a hold on this orange nuisance.
As Fum the Drunken One lifted the Slayer up to his eye-level and opened his giant mouth, Smakki the Scarred laughed out loud. Finally, after all these decades, he had finally found what he had been looking for since his disgrace at the hold of Karaz-a-Karak. A glorious death in the hands of a terrifying monster. Letting his axes fall to the ground, he opened his arms and embraced the darkness that delivered him to the halls of his ancestors to feast for all eternity. 
Fum the Drunken One chewed and swallowed.

Azgar's Wolf Riders lowered their spears and charged in, crashing into the Duardin shieldwall like a tide crashes against coastal rocks. The shieldwall held firm, catching all the wolves and their riders and absorbing their momentum, except for one.
Azgar Swiftgit lived up to his name as his white wolf carried him over the thin enemy line in a magnificent leap. From there behind the backs of the fighting Duardin he begun to lay waste with his rusty but trusty sword, Git-Cutta.

Before the Flame Cannon had time to fire another time, it came under attack by the Spider Riders that had crawled over the mine. Engineer Borek and the Thunderers had no time to react as the overgrown spiders and their undergrown riders swarmed over the crew, silencing the warmachine for good.

Night Goblins broke from their spearwall to charge the Miners in an attempt to stop them from escaping and a furious hack-and-slash of close combat begun.

None of the Duardin had yet made it out of the mine's perimeter and the greenskins were closing in from all sides. Things were starting to look very grim...

Pickaxes cracked shields and skulls in equal measure while spears struck through soft spots in chainmail hauberks to spill hot red blood on the green grass. Although the blessing of the Ancestors protected Miners from majority of the enemy blows and pokes, many fell and the way to freedom still remained closed.

While the Wolf Riders kept the Duardin shieldwall busy from the front, Azgar severed heads and sank his sword into the backs of his hated enemies one after another while his wolf bit off arms and legs with its slavering jaws. The shieldwall did not give way, though, and the Goblins suffered casualties too as Dwarven steel bit deep through wooden shields.

Seeing the Giant survive its fight with the Slayer and recover its club from the ground, the Wolf Riders turned their mounts back towards the Mines. The Thunderers were waiting for them, however, and suddenly a thundering volley of handgun shots swept over the Riders. Leaving mangled bodies of both wolves and Goblins in their wake, the Wolf Riders still rode forward. All across the mines battle still raged on furiously.

The Miners were getting the upper hand in their combat against the Night Goblins, powered by the presence and blessings of Largs the Runepriest. Goblins fell swiftly under the desperate blows from the mining tools which resulted in even more routing greenskins.

The warriors were not so lucky, however, as Azgar's Riders slew them one by one until only the garrison commander of the Splitstone Mines remained. Seeing no chance for survival if he stayed and fought, the commander turned tail and ran, hoping to perhaps make it out of the mines alive. Before the commander had taken no more than a dozen steps he was ridden down by Azgar Swiftgit, whose Git-Cutta severed the Dwarf's head from his shoulders in one casual ride-by slash.

With the shieldwall down and the Flame Cannon crew being feasted upon by the giant spiders, the rest of the defenders decided it was time to leave.
The Thunderers hopped over the low wall and started jogging towards the hills, firing their handguns at the nearby Wolf Riders as they went.
Engineer Borek Gadrinsnev followed the example, scrambling over the rocks to run into a different direction, while Runepriest Largs also spotted a gap in the fighting and made a run for it.
In three separate places the greenskin circle had been breached, while the Miners were still locked in mortal combat with the Night Goblins.

 Pickaxes rose and fell, while Goblins fell but never rose. The Miners were close to being free, so close they redoubled their efforts to chop down the remaining greenskins. The thinning ranks of Night Goblins could hold the Miner onslaught no longer.

Wolf Riders suffered casualties under heavy handgun-fire and some fled the battle as the Thunderers made a run for their lives. Would they be the first to escape this ambush?

With Largs and Borek growing their distance to the site of ambush each passing moment, the Thunderers thundering their way past the Wolf Riders and Miners cleaving through the last of the Night Goblins, the tide of battle seemed to favor the Duardin for the first time. Someone had to get out to warn the others.

The Miners' advance was soon halted, though. A lone Night Goblin standard bearer refused to die, deflecting every blow that came its way. No doubt this particularly brave individual had the blessing of Mork (or possibly Gork), for this small delay granted Fum the Drunken One enough time to rejoin the fighting by storming into the Miners' rear.

Fortune did not favor the Duardin for long. Spider Riders closed in on the Thunderers who fired all around them with their handguns, while Engineer Borek was being chased by Azgar's Wolf Riders.
Azgar Swiftgit himself raced after Largs Brokksson to prevent his adversary's escape and to get those shiny weapons and trinkets the Dwarf was carrying around.

Soon all the Dwarves were tied up by the greenskins and forced to fight for their lives...

Greenskin cavalry ran over the Thunderers, wiping them from existence, mounts of those Goblins that got blown apart by handgun-shots doing the majority of killing in their bloodied frenzy. As the sounds of blackpowder shots came less frequent and finally stopped altogether, Largs knew that none of his troops had escaped that way.

Fum the Giant rammed into the Miners, stomping Dwarfs to bloody mess with his feet while swinging his massive club and sending the rest of the Miners sprawling across the bloodied grass. 
To the amazement of all who beheld, from the piles of Duardin and Goblin corpses rose a single figure holding aloft the Crooked Moon standard. The Night Goblin standard bearer had survived both the destruction of the Miners and his own unit, and thus would later on gain immeasurable respect from his kin as the one and only, Gromgob Moongit.

Engineer Borek Gadrinsev was caught by the Wolf Riders just before he reached the treeline of a forest where he would have been able to lose his pursuers. A spear was thrust clean through his shoulder, and when Borek fell to the ground the wolves charged on him with hungry gleaming eyes.
Soon there was a loud bang as one of the wolves had bitten through the Engineer's blackpowder pouch. The dwarf's blackened form with a dark cloud hovering above it did not intrigue the wolves anymore, so their riders took them to where the Duardin shieldwall had been. There would be plenty of fresh meat to feast upon.

Wolf Boss Azgar Swiftgit reached Runepriest Largs Brokksson with a few long leaps of his great white wolf, screaming "Aaazzgaaar Swiiiiftgiiit!" at the top of his lungs. He rode past the Runepriest, slashing a gaping wound on the Dwarf's shoulder with his Git-Cutta.
Largs stumbled, but did not fall, instead bracing himself as Azgar turned his wolf around and charged again. With words of power mumbled under his breath, Largs created a glowing light sphere around him.
When the Wolf Boss came upon him again, Largs moved aside at the last possible second, thrusting his glowing runestaff into the legs of the white beast while swinging his forgehammer at the rider. His hammer was parried by a rusty sword but the wolf lost its footing and fell, sending the Goblin rolling on the grass. The Runepriest walked up to his opponent who was lying on his back, staring at the Dwarf with gleaming yellow eyes. Blood-covered Git-Cutta was flat on the ground several paces away, too far to be of any use.

"It was a mistake to come after us. Now you will pay for it!" Largs bellowed, lifting his hammer for a killing blow. 
"You's the one making a mistake 'ere, shiny stuntie," the Wolf Boss grinned.
Before the hammer descended, a long dirk had appeared in Azgar's hand. A heartbeat later the Goblin stood in front the Runepriest, driving the dirk up the Dwarf's throat through his thick beard.
"Say hello to me very first blade, Git-Stabba!" Azgar whispered in Brokksson's ear with a malicious voice as the forgehammer and the runestaff slipped from dying hands and thumped on the ground.
"I's Azgar Swiftgit, and I's comin' to bring deff and deshtruktoon to yer kind!"
The Runepriest tried to bring his hands up to staunch the bleeding from his throat where the dirk was still buried, but his limbs had no strength left in them. Azgar gave his dirk one last push, sinking it even deeper.
The Dwarf's eyes rolled, turning white, and he fell heavily to the ground.

Azgar Swiftgit sheathed his dirk and retrieved his Git-Cutta as his wolf walked up to him.
"Did the stunty hurt me favvorite wullof? Good fing 'es dead now," he said as he let his beast lick the blood from his hands.
"Com' now, we has plenty o' stunty fings to plunda!"
In the Splitstone Mines the Greenskins were already looting everything valuable off the dead, and Fum the Drunken One was sitting in the yard holding a keg of ale he had found somewhere. Azgar picked up Runepriest Largs Brokksson's weapons, neither of them glowing anymore, and packed them in his wolf's saddle bags.
He then rode back to the mines to join the victory celebrations.

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What a game! The winner was revealed only in the last minute, as our leaders battered each other on the edge of the gaming board, with the winner taking it all. That was some hectic dice rolling!

I can't stop wondering the effectiveness and flexibility of Goblin cavalry units, namely Wolf Riders and Spider Riders. With a Wolf Boss nearby to give them +1 Bravery and +1 Attack with his command ability that lot are complete killers!

The one thing missing for my Duardin was a general with an actual command ability. I only had the Engineer and the Runepriest as I made my list more story-wise than game-wise.

Oh, and of course, I had the Dragonslayer! That chap is a monster-killer, as is only proper, as that is what he's meant to do. The Giant lost 8 wounds on the first round of combat while my Dragonslayer lost only one! Too bad the Wolf Riders took a wound off him too, so that the Giant's "Stuff 'em in me bag" -ability was able to trigger due to my opponent rolling godly results. Well, at least the Dragonslayer got what he had come for :)

Flaming Cannon with an Engineer standing next to it is a lovely piece of artillery. 24" range, causing D6 mortal wounds with an additional D6 mortal wounds if you roll 4+ after the first roll. Damn that thing fried up those hooded little bastards, eleven on the first battle round! Too bad it didn't get to fire a second time...

The game, as I already said, was a really close call. Many of my units got out of the greenskin circle but those fast-moving cavalry units caught every single one of them. Still the winner was decided on the one last final combat between the Runepriest and the Wolf Boss!

The story will continue as we play more games, but while you're waiting for the future battle reports you might want to take a look at my friend's writings at:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11521997/1/

He writes about our common story from the viewpoint of his Orcs&Goblins, while I mainly focus on my Dwarves. I recommend you make use of this chance to familiarize yourselves with the other side of the coin, too :P

One last thing: Marius Leitdorf arrived at last! I'll assemble and paint him as soon as I get the Trollslayer command group out of the way.

Until next time!

The Battle of the Hollow Hill

Hi there!

It is time for my first battle report in this blog! It was a small-ish game I played against a friend of mine at our local gaming club. His Orruks&Grotts are the archenemies of my Duardin army, and now these ancient rivals met each other once again upon a field of battle. The last few games between us ended up with his hordes invading a fortified outpost belonging to my army, and so this was a chance to avenge the fate of those Duardin who bravely held the outpost against impossible odds!

In this post I'll try using the new word "Duardin" for my Dwarves as I try to get used to it :) For the greenskins, I'll just keep calling them orcs and goblins for the sake of their Warscroll names... I just don't think "Black Orruks" sounds near as intimidating as "Black Orcs". Not yet, at least. It just sounds silly. 
I'll start using the words Orruk and Grott some day in the future, I just need some time :P Enough with that new-vs-old rumbling for now, our story belongs to the World-That-Was, after all!

Thane Gorek Stonehammer stood upon a field of snow and ice. This tundra was soon to become a site for a battle between two centuries-old enemies. He eyed the horizon suspiciously. 
As soon as his forward scouts had reported a greenskin warband roaming ahead and closing in fast, Gorek had drawn his weary patrol into a loose battleline. His warriors were determined but few in number, and Gorek knew the upcoming fight would be hard and costly.
The task given to him by Ungrim Ironhelm, the leader and founder of the Iron Company, had been simple enough; to patrol the areas around the main army's encampment and ensure that no enemy would take the main army unawares as it made preparations for an attack to reclaim the coastal outpost.
He reached to his belt pouch and took out a spyglass. Gorek scanned the horizon again, hoping to catch any indication of an approaching enemy. All he could see was newly-fallen snow and grey, hard-frozen ground. With a deep sigh he put away the device as a bare-chested Slayer walked up to him.
"We're more than ready. You think they've got trolls?" the warrior asked, nodding towards the enemy's supposed direction while drawing his thick finger along the glinting blade of his battleaxe.
"Might be this group is too small to upkeep any. They eat quite a lot, after all, and there's nothing here to eat," Gorek replied as he pulled on his leather gloves.
"Shame," the Slayer blurted out and turned to walk away. 
As Thane Gorek had been leaving the army camp with his patrol of thirty-odd Duardin warriors about a week ago, a group of Slayers had offered to join in. They claimed to have a bad feeling about this trip, so they wanted to come along. Perhaps they'd finally find the glorious deaths they seek ever so enthusiastically. Gorek had had nothing against the thought that his patrol would be enforced by a number of fearless and savage killers so he had approved.

He let his gaze fly over the ordered ranks of his warriors and a formation of Thunderers on the far end of the battleline. The centre he had given to the Slayers, knowing that they longed to be in the middle of the action once the fighting started. Suddenly there was a shout.
"Thane Stonehammer! Enemy sighted!" Runepriest Largs bellowed, signaling towards the hill in front of them with his runic staff. Largs Brokksson was the Runepriest assigned to join this patrol under Gorek's command, to suppress enemy magic should they ever face such trickery upon their trip.

Out in the distance they could see the hated enemy approaching.
"Ready... Lock shields!" Stonehammer barked an order to his warriors. In a matter of seconds, the Duardin formed a solid shieldwall, ready to receive anything that would be thrown against them. The Slayers were hefting their weapons anxiously, eager to get to grips with the foe, while Thunderers reloaded their weapons with dry gunpowder.
"Not a even single troll!" Gorek heard one of the Slayers complain.
"Good", he thought to himself. He was better off without any regenerating nuisances stomping their way across the battlefield.
Now Gorek could see the enemy warband entirely. A speed-oriented one, it seemed, with so many spider and wolf riding goblins, their negligible courage backed up by a unit of towering Black Orcs. There also seemed to be a Pump Wagon rattling its way across the field with a cackling crew of Snotlings hanging on to the makeshift structure of the machine. A huge Orc Warboss and a Savage Orc Shaman goaded their forces towards the Duardin with threats, curses and some strange shamany gibberish.

Without losing any more time, Stonehammer ordered his battleline to advance. The Slayers broke into a run, closing the distance to the enemy fast, their stunted feet carrying them towards the inevitable clash. Warriors advanced in a formation with their shields locked together, while Thunderers took careful steps on the icy ground to keep their aim. Runepriest Largs mumbled some ancient words and stomped the ground twice with his runestaff, and suddenly the running Slayers each had a faint circle of shimmering light around them. Gorek unslung his warhammer from his belt and followed his troops across the pure white patches of snow that dotted the scene.

With a blood-chilling roar the orcs ran to meet their hated enemies, waving their heavy weapons in the air as effortlessly as children would wave wooden sticks. Goblin cavalry followed the orcs' brutal example and spurred their mounts to get within bow's range of the Duardin, crying out "Waaagh!" and other similar greenskin warcries at the top of their high-pitched voices.

The wolf riders unleashed a volley of crudely crafted arrows at the running Slayers, toppling a couple even as the shimmering light spheres deflected many of the missiles. This however did nothing to slow down the orange tide, and soon the Slayers crashed into the roaring mass of Black Orcs with teeth-shattering force.
Duardin warriors weathered a volley of arrows from the Spider Riders before sallying out from their shield wall to attack their shooters. Gorek slowed his pace for one more moment to get a good look on the unfolding events before joining the whirling melee. So far the battle was tied and no side held the upper hand. He saw that the Runepriest had joined the Slayers' charge into the orcs, perhaps to get closer to the greenskin Shaman that was hopping from one leg to the other behind the enemy lines while mumbling some diiga-boo-boo.

The fight between the Spider Riders and Duardin warriors turned out to be a bloody one. The warriors had charged in and used their momentum to cut down a few riders and their disgusting mounts, but it was not enough. The spiders piled upon the Duardin, hammering their shields with their multiple legs while the maniacally laughing goblins eagerly stabbed in every possible direction with their crooked spears. The Dwarven line held, but many warriors succumbed to the venom that the spiders managed to slip into their flesh from gaps in their steel armouring.
Slayers took down a good fifth of their opposition in one swift sweep, their axes striking clouds of sparks and blood from the dark armour and flesh of the monstrous orcs. The Black Orcs in turn got many of their mighty blows dodged or parried by the unarmoured and thus more agile Dwarves, although a few Slayers ended up as red ruins on the ground, their hot blood hissing its way through the pure white snow.

The orc Shaman raised its filthy green hands towards the skies and locked its gaze on the Slayers while chanting in a low voice. As the greenskin gestured downward, a large bolt of green energy descended from the clouds, shaped like a giant foot. It struck down in the midst of the fighting between the Slayers and the Black Orcs, instantly turning several orange mohawks into as many piles of black dust. 
Largs the Runepriest gritted his teeth. His efforts of countering the destructive spell had come too late, as he had been too caught up in the fighting to properly direct his powers to deflecting the enemy spell. All lives lost to that greenskin trick were his to bear until the end of his days...

The horror of dying in violent spasms after getting struck by the malevolent spider venom was too much for the youngest of the Duardin warriors, so a group of five turned tail and ran, shaming themselves and their ancestors. The captain of the Thunderers saw this and decided to intervene the flow of the battle. He ordered his unit to take careful aim and bring down a score of the heavily armoured Black Orcs. 
Alas, the fighting proved to be far too fierce, with Slayers and orcs leaping, spinning and wrestling about while hacking at each other with various tools of war. A few daring shots were made, only to bounce off thick hides and armour plates.

Seeing the desperation of his warriors in the fight against the spiders, Gorek charged in to turn the tide. Swinging his hammer left and right he caved in goblin skulls and cracked open the chitinous carapaces of their mounts. Emboldened by the presence of their commander, the Duardin warriors redoubled their efforts and started to push forward in a shieldwall. Despite their renewed courage and burning hatred for their ancient enemies, the ranks of the warriors got thinner and thinner every passing moment as spiders dragged them down and goblin spears pierced the links of their chainmails.
The Slayers had cut a bloody path through the orcs and were climbing over the mutilated corpses of their much larger enemies to seize their tattered banner when the sky above them darkened. All of a sudden a hail of crooked arrows swept over these orange-haired warriors, turning them into pin-cushions and felling them to the frozen ground to lay dead among friend and foe alike. 

The orc Warboss let out a thundering "WAAAGH!!!" and charged at Gorek Stonehammer like a rolling boulder. Thanks to the forewarning warcry, Gorek heard his rival come and managed to turn around just in time to absorb the first strike of the orc warlord's massive axe into his shield. He then returned the favor by smashing his hammer into the face of the Warboss. Hearing his enemy's ugly green nose break, Gorek smiled and prepared for a duel that would only end when one of them slew the other. Despite already bleeding from several wounds after his involvement in the fight between his Warriors and the Spider Riders, Thane Stonehammer was determined to sell his life as dearly as possible.

In the centre of the field where the Slayers had been granted their glorious deaths, Runepriest Largs Brokksson was facing the remaining two of the towering Black Orcs all alone. With the runes of his weapons glowing brightly, he buried his forgehammer in the middle of a roaring Black Orc's forehead, leaving nothing but a bloody mess where the head had once been. Parrying the swing of the other orc's giant axe with his runestaff, Largs then drove his hammer into his opponent's chest to hear a satisfying sound of breaking ribs. By then the remaining Black Orc had had enough, starting a limping retreat towards the Pump Wagon that was pumping its way up the hill to join the battle.

Once the last warrior in the Duardin shieldwall fell under the onslaught of the eight-legged monstrosities, the Spider Riders rushed in to join the duel between the two generals. Realizing his commander's peril, Largs the Runepriest whispered a prayer to his ancestors and charged in with his glowing weapons.

The second swing from the orc warlord's heavy axe split Gorek's shield in half and bit deep into his left arm even through his gromril bracers. Knowing his time in this world was at an end, Gorek gathered the last ounces of his strength and slammed his hammer spike-first into the orc's shoulder. He could feel the crude orcish armour giving way to Dwarf-forged gromril and left the weapon in place as the giant orc recoiled, dark blood pouring from the wound. Before Gorek could reach for a secondary weapon to keep on fighting, he felt spider fangs drilling on his back and a goblin spear finding a soft spot through the armour in his flank. His fate was sealed. Thane Gorek Stonehammer of Karak Izor was no more.

Largs Brokksson saw that there was nothing he could do and the battle was lost. Lifting his runestaff high up in the air and releasing a bright flash of light to blind any possible pursuers, the Runepriest led the Thunderers off the site of battle, to find the surviving warriors and return to the main army's encampment.


The greenskins, momentarily blinded by both the Runepriest's trick and the amount of loot laid out before them did not give chase, preferring to scavenge the battlefield for Dwarven meat and metal. 
In the desolate frozen tundra a great feast was had, while Thane Stonehammer's severed head found its place upon a spike on Warboss Gorlag Stuntiedoom's trophy rack.


A sound victory for the greenskins this time but I find it suitable to use this old saying: they may have won the battle, but not the war!

I really liked playing with the Slayers, a bit squishy unit but deadly all the same. The Spider Riders are as nasty as ever, I will have to shoot them down the next time I face them on field, that much I've learned by now!

Oh, and Runepriests kick ass. They may only have two "blessings" to choose from but they're easy to cast (roll 2+ on a D6) and quite nice buffs to any unit. In addition to being decent fighters in combat (compared to other factions' casters at least) Runepriests can also unbound enemy spells as if they were wizards!

I hope to be able to fight against this army again next week so we'll see if the story gets yet another sequel.

Until next time!