Battle for Sporehollows

Greetings!

Once more the Firestorm Campaign gets a narrative battle report, this time telling the legend of a battle recently fought between Sunsplitterz and the Ghosts of the Crimson Path.

As a friendly reminder, there's an entire post called Factions of the Firestorm that introduces the forces currently battling it out in the Flamescar Plateau.

The battle took place in the Sporehollows, a region where neither orruks nor the undead could get any reinforcements from their garrisons. The battleplan was drawn from the Open War deck, dictating that one objective would be placed in he middle of the table and could be carried around by units. As a little twist to the game there was a Storm of Magic raging amidst the clouds above the armies, boosting all spellcasting to a terrifying extent.

On with the story!


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"Find da glowrock, find it now!" Prophet Wozoc Squinteye bellowed at his dim-witted retinue that was rummaging the area.
"I needz... I means, WE needz dat glowrock fer da big door! 'Tis da only way we get our hands on 'em yummy-spores!"

All around the crumbled battlements of an ancient holdfast, the Sunsplitterz were running amok. They had been seeking to enter the Sporehollows beneath the mountain range of the Flamescar Plateau, but the only entrance they found had been sealed shut by an enormous rune-etched stone door. There was a spot in the door that apparently required a keystone of some kind, and after figuring this out Prophet Wozoc had lost his temper and started kicking his boyz around. They needed to find the rune-carved keystone to gain entrance beneath the mountains.

The holdfast had already been cleared and the orruks were moving outwards to scour the nearby lands in hopes of discovering the damn thing. Just as Big Boss Grom the Punch and Wardokk Durbag had led a portion of the army across the nearby river, a chill wind blew strongly across the snow-patched landscape.

"Wut is it dis time...?" Squinteye muttered as he made his way across the holdfast courtyard to peer out of the open gate. What he saw didn't please him at all.

An army of ghosts and skeletons appeared, marching slowly and silently out of the thin mist that had suddenly covered the entirety of the other side of the river. Ranks of human remains, clad in rusty sets of armour and grasping faintly glowing weapons, marched alongside hosts of malign spirits and ethereal horsemen.
"No... NO! Not da dead 'umies again!" Wozoc shrieked, slapping his orange palm across his eyes to shield them from the view.
"Not again..."

Big Boss Grom and Wardokk Durbag spotted the newly arrived enemy too, and rallied the surrounding boyz to ready for a scrap. Just as they began approaching the enemy, running at the ghostly army while waving their weapons in the air, one of the orruks caught a glimpse of something shiny in the dirt. The warrior ran to the shiny thing, dug up several handfuls of frosty soil from the riverbank and realized it was the corner of a hidden chest.

Triumphantly the orruk let out a deafening roar as it wrenched the chest from the ground, lifting it high above its head even as snow and soil came raining down on its orange scalp. Something rattled inside the chest. Could it be the coveted keystone? The ghosts across the river certainly seemed to take great interest in it.

That was more than enough reason to fight for it.

The Sunsplitterz rallied around the newly discovered chest, determined to hold it against the onslaught of the dead. The ethereal cavalry charged across the river, crossing it effortlessly even though the ice-cold current raged right beneath the hooves of their steeds. Everywhere these undead horsemen touched the water the surface froze momentarily, a grim reminder of the chill of the grave that awaited these foolish orruks.

Even as the cavalry rumbled past, a cohort of armoured skeletons stepped on the bridge. Their bony feet thumped on the stone with an unnaturally accurate rhythm, and a hosts of spirits breezed over their heads to crash into the Big Stabbas on the far bank.

The ensuing crash was a bloody affair, but by no means equal to both sides in suffering. Nearly half the boyz protecting the chest were slain instantly, their muscled forms trampled under weight of steeds or ran through with rusty lances. Even the orruk spear-carriers stood little chance against these unnatural foes, and an entire team was overwhelmed by stabbing and slashing ghosts, their jagged blades flashing in and out, drawing blood.

Prophet Wozoc was still reeling from the sudden appearance of the enemy when a cloud of spirits rushed into the ruined gateway of the holdfast. The orruk hunters on the battlements tried to shoot down the ghosts and, failing that, resorted to lashing out at the bypassing spirits with their fists. One of the ghosts was bigger than the rest, a boss-ghost, Wozoc thought. His speculations proved correct when the apparition's faintly glowing longsword chopped a chunk of flesh from his shoulder. His pet squig jumped at the boss-ghost and tried to bite it, but only caught itself a mouthful of damp air.

Across the river the rest of the Sunsplitterz were still locked down fighting the larger portion of the foe. A grim spirit floated in amidst the boyz, holding a scythe in both hands. The skeletal cohort also picked up some speed and charged the Big Stabbas who were still trying to poke at the spirits circling about them.

It was a slaughter. The skeletal warriors tore into the spear-carriers with their finely crafted weapons, the orruks' skin blackening under their touch. Even though the Big Stabbas were slain to the last, they managed to toss their weapons at their tormentors. If the skeletons even noticed some of their comrades getting crushed under the weight of giant spears, they showed no signs of it. Instead some of them strode to the nearby Wardokk Durbag and contemptuously lopped his chanting head off.

The scythe-ghost went on a similarly cold-blooded killing spree by weaving about it with its peculiar weapon, severing arms and splitting heads all around it. When the spirit ceased its weaving the surrounding orruks lay dead, the blood-splattered chest lying on the ground with a still-twitching hand grasping its corner.

Big Boss Grom the Punch of the Shifty Mountain was alone, his Wardokk and all of his boyz now littering the snowy ground before him. With a defiant roar he charged the foe, dissolving the scythe-ghost in one great swing of his weepwood choppa. As the spirit faded away into nothing and its scythe clattered to the ground, the empty eye sockets of the surrounding horsemen turned their attentions to this fool of a warrior.

Prophet Wozoc saw this foolish lunge, his second-in-command and the brawn-to-his-brain facing down almost a dozen undead all by himself. How typical of him, thought Wozoc. He wove a protective spell around his companion, hoping it would be enough to save the poor git, before turning his attention back to the spirits constantly jabbing at him with rusty kitchen knives. How rude.

Then an explosion of pain shot through Squinteye's entire body. The tip of the boss-ghost's longsword was sticking out of his belly, hissing as its ice-old steel contacted with the Prophet's blood. Wozoc screamed in agony as the phantom twisted the blade and leaned closer, its expressionless iron mask hovering right next to the orruk's ear. A chilling whisper emanated from behind it.
"Death comes to all... and you've cheated it long enough."
"Wut?" Squinteye managed to blurt out before the spirit pushed him away violently. He slid off the length of the bloodied longsword and rolled down the riverbank to splash into the icy current.

Big Boss Grom saw his Prophet floating away face-down in the water, the pet squig jumping along the shore barking and trying catch up with its motionless master. Roaring with fury, the orruk chieftain laid about him with his choppa. The carved weepwood blade merely passed through the immaterial cavalrymen tightening their circle around their prey.

Lances shot forth, transfixing the flailing warchief. As Grom fell to his knees and the horsemen turned their gazes towards the ruined holdfast, the remaining orruks made a run for it. No way they wanted to face a tide of spirits that merely walked over their finest warriors and heroes so effortlessly! Let the dead 'umies keep their glowrocks.

As the orruk hunters jumped down from the battlements and retreated the way their Prophet had drifted, the Ghosts of the Crimson Path stood silent. Only when the enemy had disappeared behind the horizon did the dead turn their attention to the chest lying on the ground amidst a mound of corpses.

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A crushing defeat to the Sunsplitterz!

The orruks stood no chance against the onslaught of the undead, their weapons ineffective and their warpaints insufficient to battle a supernatural foe like that. It's been some time since I added units to the army, and now it seems my forces could do with some added mobility and damage output. We ended the game before the last battlerounds as I only had my Arrowboyz left and the Hexwraiths could just grab the objective and fly across the board, impossible for me to catch up with. The Bonesplitterz also seem to struggle against non-monster multi-wound armies, their damage output simply falling miles short of any real results. The regular Savage Orruks are two-wound models themselves and sport a 5+ Save that cannot be lowered below 6+ (which also works against mortal wounds), but each of them brandishes only one (1) Attack worth one (1) Damage that doesn't Rend. They can take a punch, but their killing capabilities equal those of a torn napkin.

I'm planning to add a hefty unit of Boarboyz to bring some speed and charge bonuses to the army, along with a unit or two of Morboys. The two separate melee weapon stats of the Morboys (along with the Kopp Rukk Battalion which they form with Wardokks) should achieve pretty decent results when combined with
A) the Prophets ability to make them fight more than once per turn
B) the Big Boss' ability to give their attacks a fair chance to create even more attacks.

But first they all have to be painted. Sigh. Oh well, just whistle while you work!