Encounter in the Woods

First battle of the Twilight Prince campaign!

My 40 renown Freeguild warband got paired against Ironjaws in the Skirmish Battleplan "Clash at Dawn". The aim is to kill over half of the models in the enemy warband while the ranges of missiles and abilities start off short and get longer each round. The first warband to reduce the enemy force below half strength by the end of any battle round is declared victorious.

On with the story!

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A pair of timid footsteps was audible in the silence of the woods, the sound of twigs and tussocks crumbling underfoot muffled by the veil of fog covering the land. Two freeguilders made their way through the landscape, ascending a steep hill to take a better look around them. All they saw was the fog.
"I don't like this, Eamond," said the one carrying a handgun, his young features rigid with fear. His movements were quick and shaky as he wiped the aiming monocle over his right eye clean with his palm.
"I don't think we ever should've slept on duty. T'was not worth this!"
"I hear ya, Calvin. I don't like this either, but what can we do? At least this ain't lavatory duty!" The older man sneered, placing his sword temporarily under his armpit to free a hand for scratching his golden beard. The pistol in his other hand pointed at the sky, loaded and ready.



Guardsman Calvin let his gaze sweep the fog around them.
"No trace of the officers. They said they'd scout ahead while we checked these hills, where are they now? How far are they going to range in this unknown territory?"
"Hard to say, I'm not them," the other shrugged.
"They said there seemed to be ruins ahead. Maybe that's what's taking them to long?"
"The lieutenant has never been a realmologist to my eye..." Eamond replied through gritted teeth. The younger man was getting on his nerves.
"What do you mean? You think they got lost? You think they're even alive anymore? What should we do now, Eamond? When—"
"Shut up already, will ya?!" Eamond rounded on his brother-in-arms, holding his index finger right in front of Calvin's widened eyes.
"I'm sick of your blabbering, mate. I know this is all new to you but listen, I have served five years in the guard already, okay? I've served my bit and gotten back to my life already, this trip to the woods with Breuer's regiment is just a refresher for me. I'm a militiaman, not a regular, and I get to go back to my wife right when this is all over, alright? So quit your shit and let's find the lieutenant, I'm sick of this place and it's high time we got back!"

This sudden outburst of the older soldier left Calvin reeling, his mind struggling to grasp everything that had been said. The flash of fear he'd caught passing in Eamond's eyes during the outburst unnerved him to no end.
"A-a-alright. Let's find 'em. Sorry."
"Shut up."

The guardsmen started down the hillside, selecting their footholds carefully to avoid twisting an ankle. Their descend came to a sudden stop as they heard splashing of water ahead of them in the fog.
"What's that?" Calvin gasped, bringing up his rifle to his eye-level. Eamond had stopped too.
"Calvin, get back. Back to the hilltop, now!"

They both clambered up the hillside again, reaching the top and turning towards the source of the splashing. The men looked at each other, pale in the face.
"Could that be the officers?" offered Calvin.
"Taking a bath in a misty swamp in mysterious woods? Sounds like Scholz alright," replied Eamond, searching the nothingness of the fog.
"Only one way to find out."

Eamond holstered his pistol and sheathed his sword, cupping his hands around his mouth. Casting a sideways glance at Calvin, he could see the younger man aiming down the barrel of his gun, pointing at the splashing sounds.
"Oi, Lieutenant! It's us, guardsmen Calvin and Eamond! Scholz, is that you?!

The splashing halted, then started again, this time towards the men. The sounds were more discernible this time.
"Two humanoid creatures, alright, but they sound... heavier, than our dear officers," Eamond gulped, looking at Calvin. The men nodded to each other, a small soldier's gesture to acknowledge that this might be the end for either or both of them. Eamond drew his weapons once more.

"Anything up there?" Scholz shouted up to the tower of skulls, its heights lost in the fog.
"Only a throne of some kind, not any culture I'd recognise without further study," came down the reply.
"No time for studies, Gunmaster. We must move on to the next ruin if we want to keep up any respectable pace."

The lieutenant looked around him. This cursed fog made everything much harder than it had to be. He wondered if the guardsmen had already deserted with nobody to watch over them. Just then faint shouting could be heard in the distance, but any words were impossible to single out.
"You hear that, Wolfgang? Our boys seem to miss us already," Scholz quipped, knowing perfectly well that the shout had a frightened edge to it. Were the men in trouble?
"Get down here, scholar, so we can go sing them a lullaby! They're alone and I want to catch them before they rethink their involvement in this journey."

The guardsmen stared at the fog, pointing their weapon at two dark silhouettes that began taking shape as they closed in.
"No, no, no, NO! Orruks!" Calvin gasped, his gun's aim faltering as he lost control of his hands.
"Calvin, don't do this to me! Don't you panic on me now, mate!" Eamond cried, taking a step towards the orruks with his pistol hand outstretched.
"BACK! GET BACK! WE'RE AN AVERGUARD PATROL KEEPING ORDER! WE'RE NOT ENEMIES!" he bellowed at the greenskins at the top of his lungs.

The larger of the orruks grinned, its red eyes shining through the fog. Both creatures picked up their pace and started running towards the men. Eamond pulled the trigger. A lousy puff of smoke coughed from the pistol's flintlock, but the weapon didn't fire. The powder was too wet.

"Wha—" was all Eamond managed before the Megaboss grabbed his head in one great green palm, lifted him up in the air on the run and brought him down on the ground, neck first. A wet snap and crunch told Calvin his mate was gone, only heartbeats before the towering orruk's axe swung around to open his guts from flank to flank. As his guts spilled on the hilltop grass, Calvin dropped his rifle and collapsed, his face a mask of terror and surprise.

Lieutenant Scholz strode in the fog with his weapon ready in both hands. He had a vague idea of the direction of the shouts, but after a second shout everything had been silent. Further back behind him the Gunmaster was starting to climb down the skull tower, his laboured huffs and puffs audible to where Scholz was standing.

"Boys, you there?" he called out into the fog. Something moved ahead.
"Oh, you're not one of my lads, are you? Army rations don't help growing shoulders like that!" He said once the silhouette before him took shape and revealed itself to be more heavily built than a human.

A roar went up as the iron-clad orruk spun around, alerted to the presence of a foe. The creature was too slow, however, and Leopold Scholz was on him in three determined strides. The Ironjaw's axe shot out, but the lieutenant ducked under the swing and rammed his greatsword tip-first in between the battered gut-plates of the orruk. Blood spurted out from the wound as Scholz drove his blade in up to the hilt and straightened his back, now eye-to-eye with the greenskin. Twisting his blade in the wound, the officer grinned.
"Enjoying this? I know your kind likes to fight. But how does dying feel?"
The orruk tried to laugh, but only coughed blood and fell on its back, sliding off the greatsword stone-dead.
"Thought so," Leopold blurted as the heavy carcass hit the ground.
"Wolfgang, We've got company!"

Further ahead the lieutenant could discern another armoured form, facing away from him. Picking up his pace, Scholz closed the distance in a matter of heartbeats and swung his greatblade diagonally across the orruk's back. The castle-forged steel bit through the rough iron plates protecting the creature, slashing open a gaping wound from the spine all the way through the left flank. The orruks swung its maces uselessly in the air as strength escaped it, before Scholz gave it a kick in the back that sent it face-first into the muddy pond.

Satisfied to see his foe slowly drown as it couldn't get back up again, the lieutenant cast a quick look around him. What he saw wiped the triumphant smile off his face.

Hand of Gork (or possibly Mork) at work

The towering form of the Megaboss was hurtling towards him like a comet of doom, the ground shaking beneath its monstrous stride. Scholz turned and ran, carrying his sword by the blade as he hurried over to the Gunmaster.
"Wolfgang! There's a bit of a situtation going on here, care to lend a hand?!" He called out as he jogged towards the skull tower.
The Gunmaster already had his repeater pistol at the ready as he approached the scene warily.
"By Sigmar, that thing moves fast for its size! Interesting how those muscles—"
"Cut that scholarly bullshit Wolfgang, shoot it down!" the lieutenant yelled as he was pulling something from his belt on the run.

The orruk approached with terrifying speed. Scholz turned around, using his thumb to flip off the stopper from the bottle he'd retrieved from his belt. In one gulp he drank the contents, immediately feeling his senses sharpen and his muscles tense. Quicksilver potions didn't necessarily taste good, but they were always incredibly effective.

As the Megaboss thundered at him, ready to swing its enormous axe, the lieutenant  moved in with the speed of a lunging viper and struck first. His greatsword crashed agaist the flank-plates of the orruk's armour, cutting loose some leather straps and making one of the plates clatter to the ground. His second swing struck this exposed spot, cutting deep into the dark flesh of the orruk and resulting in a generous flow of blood.

As the lieutenant drew is sword back for a third swing, the Megaboss' fist struck him in the chest with the force of a battering ram. Scholz was knocked three steps back and out of breath, his breastplate badly dented and his lungs empty. He managed to keep his footing, but when he finally managed to force some air into his lungs he felt a stab of pain inside his chest. Something had rattled loose inside. The Megaboss was already bringing its axe down on him, but a burst of three shots drummed into the orruk's back, messing its aim and buying Scholz time to step away from the swing. The huge axe sailed past mere inches from his face.

The Megaboss spun around and only now spotted the Gunmaster, who was revolving the array of barrels in his repeater to bring the next three loaded shots in alignment with the weapon's wheellock. Scholz stepped in and thrust his blade into the orruks flank to turn its attention away from Wolfgang. The orruk roared in pain once more and smacked a backhand strike across the lieutenant's face as it turned back towards him.

Scholz's vision blurred momentarily from the force of impact. His broken nose bled all over his mouth, bringing with it the bitter taste of copper. Taking steps back to keep distance while recovering, Leopold spat out the blood in his mouth only to feel a tooth go along.
"That all you got?" he mumbled through swelling lips.
The Megaboss stepped in and swung its axe, but Scholz spun aside and brought his greatsword down on the creature's right arm as it sailed past. The blade bit into the thick iron plates covering the arm and stuck there, not coming loose even when the orruk's free fist struck into the lieutenant's face again.

Devoid of his weapon, there was little Leopold could do when the Megaboss set upon him like a giant pit fighter. A headbutt drove the lieutenant to his knees, a knee to the stomach knocked him over on his back. On the ground the orruk's fist came down once more, crashing onto his breastplate and caving the steel into a crater. At this point Scholz was not conscious anymore.

"WAAAAAAGH!" the Megaboss declared, standing over the beaten form of the freeguild officer with its arms high up in the air. The creature was breathing heavily, yet its recent triumph seemed to make it forget the wounds it had sustained.

Three more shots rang into its armoured back, this time one of them finding purchase and punching through flesh and iron.
"I's gettin' sick of yer boomstick, 'umie. Come 'ere an' I'll shove it up yer —"
One more shot clanged into its chestplate as it turned around.

With a bellow the orruk set after the Gunmaster, both of them running off into the mists in a merry chase.

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Damn! A victory for the Ironjaws.

The game started quite bad for me as I lost 50% of my models in the first turn of the first battleround, but luckily my Freeguild General evened the odds with his Greatsword. My opponent kept the remaining 'Ardboy out of my reach so as not to hand me an easy victory, so I had two heroes to fight his 7-Wound Megaboss with.

He managed to get the charge on my General, but the Quicksilver Potion gave me a head start in the combat (that stuff is good!) and a chance to take down his leader. Unfortunately I only got in 3 Wounds, but the fight continued to the next combat phase as I managed to save everything the Megaboss dealt back to my General.

The moments that followed decided the game. I shot him to no effect, but dealt 3 more Wounds on him, reducing the Megaboss to 1 Wound! He dealt 4 Wounds back to my General, leaving me at  2W (I had +1W from Command Traits). Then we rolled for who took the first turn of the next battleround.

My opponent did.

He struck my General down, and recovered 1 Wound with his Warscroll Ability, bringing the Megaboss back to 2W. At this point we checked the scenario rules: over half the models in the enemy warband had to be killed by the end of the battleround. My warband was already below half strength, but I still had one turn to go, so my only chance was to use the Gunmaster to shoot the Megaboss to death and score a draw instead of defeat. I fired 4 shots, 3 from a Repeater Pistol and 1 from an Artisan Pistol, yet managed to inflict only 1 Wound.

The Megaboss' ability to heal after killing a Hero cost me the game!

The match was very satisfying and a lot of fun, as it all came down to the last few dice rolls. Had I inflicted one more Wound I could've scored a draw and brought home more campaign points but alas, that was not to be. The next battle will be 60 renown Skirmish, so I'll get a chance for a comeback next week!