Chaotic Cattle

Third battle of the Twilight Prince campaign!

Lieutenant Scholz's Freeguilders have been pumped up to 80 renown points for this final Skirmish scenario before the standard battles begin. The scenario was Treasure Hunt from the Age of Sigmar Skirmish booklet, in which the players try to control 5 middle-field objectives, some of which may turn out to be treasures over the course of the game.

I got paired with Beasts of Chaos, a faction recently boosted with their very own Battletome. My Freeguilders were green with envy.

On to the story!

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"Lieutenant... we are close. I... am most certain," Rosengart reported in his usual slow manner. The freeguilders had been walking for the better part of the day already, and the landscape was once more showing signs of ruins as trees got sparse.
"Magnificent!" claimed Scholz, raising his hand sharply to halt the marching formation.
"Spread out. Gunners front, halberds rear. Greatswords with me."

The men of Averbury spread out into the given formation, all the while creeping slowly towards the grassy opening ahead.
"This... is it. There... are five places of arcane power here on this site, each with very similar auras," the Battlemage pondered as he took his place in the front line.
"Someone... or something... has been meddling with the artefact we're looking for. It... has been multiplied and hidden among false copies."
Gunmaster Fersen rolled his eyes.
"Of course! It would've been far too easy for us to just find it here. Of course there has to be a twist to it..."
"And it gets even better, Wolfgang. My guts tell me we're not alone here in these ruins," Scholz pointed out, holding his greatsword at the ready."

"I take the middle one with the elite lads here, and hold the intruders back. Fersen, take to the left, while Rosengart checks the right."
All men nodded in acknowledgement. The orders were clear enough.

From beyond an ancient graveyard ahead, a herd of beastmen strode to view. Each of them carried huge rusty axes and savage clubs, while two were armed with bows, riding sentient daemon-discs. The entire mob seemed like they were spoiling for carnage.
"Sentinels or pillagers, this lot?" Wolfgang asked, letting his gaze sweep across the enemy ranks.
"Sentinels, most likely," replied Scholz.
"If these are the same big baddy that gave the Bloodbound a run for their skulls, then they're most likely tasked with the protection of these artefacts. Prime your weapons, spread out, and MOVE!"

With that, the men sprinted off to their pre-determined directions, ready to claim the artefact hoards.

Arrows whirred past the freeguilders as the enemy Skyfires beat them to the hoards, their magical discs granting them surprisingly rapid movement. The men of Averbury responded in kind, their arquebuses cracking off loud shots that took down one of the distant beastmen and wounded the flying ones badly.

After the salvo the lieutenant charged the enemy, followed by his Greatswords. All across the glade weapons clashed, as halberd and sword met horn and daemon-steel. Further handgun shots saw to another beastman taken down on the right, the creature's fierce braying coming to a sudden halt as its rigcage got punctured by a lead ball.

As both sides were exchanging the first blows of the engagement, Rosengart paused to examine the hoard he had managed to reach on the right flank. Partially buried in the ground was a beautifully carved blue strongbox, the content of which seemed to radiate magical power. Just as he was reaching for it, he sensed another similar energy signature coming from the middle of the glade, where Scholz was fighting one of the Skyfires. How could it be possible to tell these apart, let alone in the middle of a battle?

The fighting continued around the treasure hoards, with the handgunners keeping the distant enemy at bay by popping shots at them as fast as they could reload. Seeing one of the Greatswords on the right in danger of being overwhelmed by two beastmen, Ernest raised his gaze skywards.

With a litany of mumbled words, the air around his began sparkling with electricity. When he eventually snapped out his staff towards the enemy, a forked lightning licked out incinerate one of the creatures. Rosengart nodded to himself. The Greatsword could at least get a fair fight now.

The odds seemed to be turning in humans' favour. The lone halberdier on the left toppled the nearby Skyfire by running it through with his weapon's spike, while in the middle Scholz himself cut apart the daemon-disc and sliced its rider in twain. On the right, the beastmen were so stunned by the sudden display of magical power that the soldier had no trouble felling the Gor opposing him.
"Hah! That's how you put stray cattle back in order!" Scholz declared as he kicked the Tzaangor's mutilated corpse away.

But then the battle took a sudden turn.

The beastmen utilized some sorcerous powers of their own, and a Brayshaman strode into view from behind its lesser kin. Harnessing the corrupting powers of chaos, the creature flung a bolt of hissing energy straight at the lieutenant, who was checking up his wounds after the encounter with the Skyfire. The bolt struck him square in the chest.

Leopold flew unto his back on the hard-packed ground, air escaping his lungs. The Greatswords around him rushed to his aid.

A great bellow rose from the throats of the beastmen accompanying the shaman as they charged in, towards the stunned freeguiders. At their head ran a huge horned beast, its hulking form dwarfing those of its kin around it. Scholz was already up on his knees when he saw the monster approaching. Snatching a vial from his belt, the lieutenant up-ended its Quicksilver contents into his mouth. He could feel his muscles tense and his senses sharpen once again.

The Beastlord's initial swing sailed past as Leopold sprung up from the ground, raising his own sword for a downwards strike. The monster didn't bother waiting for its axe's return blow, but instead rammed its free hand around Scholz's throat and lifted him up. With his feet draping in the air, the lieutenant lost the grip on his weapon as he struggled for breath.

Suddenly the ground came up to meet Leopold as the monster slammed him down, face-first. Before Scholz could regain his senses, the giant axe came down on the back of his neck. The three Greatswords nearby all gasped in horror as a severed head rolled across the dusty ground. The Beastlord scooped it up in a clawed hand and raised the lieutenant's head for all its kin to see, roaring deafeningly in triumph.

As the rest of the herd echoed its warcry, one of the Greatswords cryed out in anguish and ran for the Beastlord with tears in his eyes. The monster barely registered the soldier, striking the man aside with a dismissive swing from its axe.

The other two Greatswords redoubled their efforts at the middle hoard, cutting down one of the beastmen but failing to even scratch their towering leader. The incessant gunfire of the handgunners had driven a bunch of beasts out of the clearing by now, but the death of the lieutenant was too much for them and two gunners fled the field.

Yet despite the small victories across the site, Scholz's death was a dire turning point for the freeguilders. The shaman on the right caved in a Greatsword's skull with its rusty axe, while the Beastlord tore another limb-from-limb at the central hoard. Things were starting to look grim for the men of Averbury.

Ernest stood by the hoard on the right flank. He was holding an intricate key in his hands, the only thing he had found inside the strongbox. He let his gaze follow the developments of the field's fighting, pondering feverishly. Was this the right key? If they retreated now they could save more lives. But what if this wasn't the correct one? Remaining here would mean more casualties, but a higher chance to check out some of the other artefacts.

They would have to remain, Ernest decided. Meeting Wolfgang's worried gaze from across the field where the Gunmaster was hastily reloading his repeater, Rosengart nodded towards the middle hoard. They needed to remain here, and reach it.

An arquebuse shot tore into the Beastlord's flank, drawing blood. Using this small diversion, a halberdier ran to the middle hoard to help the lonely Greatsword there. The elite soldier didn't seem to need any, however, as he spectacularly severed a beastman's arm and leg with one drilled swing from his zweihander. The halberdier's presence was also very short-lived, as the towering chieftain stepped in to carve the man in two with its axe.

The last remaining Greatsword as piecemeal for the Beastlord. Another step, another swing and the Averburian was nothing but a bleeding heap on the ground. With even this final push for the central hoard ending in utter failure, Wolfgang and the remaining halberdier made a run for it.
"Rosengart, run! The day is lost, we must save what we still can!" the Gunmaster called out to his friend as he was jogging for the distant treeline.
"But... what if this isn't the correct one?!" the Battlemage yelled back, turning the ornate key around unsurely in his hand.

"Sir, I believe we should go now," the arquebusier in front of him suggested, keeping his gun pointed at the beastmen ahead. Ernest ignored the man, still deep in thought.
"Sir! Sir I suggest w—"
The man's second plea was cut off by the axe that sunk into his side. Rosengart raised his gaze from the key, seeing the beastman shaman tear its weapon from the dying gunner.
"You..." he hissed, tucking the key away into his robes and stepping towards the creature.

He swung his staff at the foe, scoring a glancing hit to he shaman's shoulder. Seemingly far from dangerous, that strike was made potent by Ernest's magics. A stab of shocking electricity passed on from the point of impact, causing the beastman to shake violently and scorching a patch of fur. Rosengart parried the shaman's axe with his staff but the sudden head-butt caught him unawares, knocking off his hat and leaving an ugly mark on the forehead.

Backing away from his foe, Ernest whispered hasty words of power and raised his staff, causing a bright flash of light to daze the opposition. Picking up his hat from the ground, Rosengart decided this key would have to do and stalked off after the fleeing freeguilders.

The beastmen were left victorious on a corpse-strewn battlefield with the remaining four artefacts.

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Major Victory for the Beasts of Chaos!

This game began quite okay (luck-wise), continued decreasingly well and ended up in a disaster. Surprisingly many of the treasure hoards turned out to be scorable objectives, all of which unfortunately ended up in beastmen paws.

This battlereport also became the scene of Scholz's death. It was gut-wrenchingly painful to see him go, as I had grown to like him over the course of the campaign thus far. Such a brutal death in the very last scenario of the Skirmishes, after which I would have retired him in favour of other commanders for the larger games? Truly dramatic.

Luckily Fersen and Rosengart survived, so they can assemble a mightier force and avenge the lieutenant's death!