[40k] Skirmish at Station Alpha

Here I am with the very first narrative battle report set in the universe of Warhammer 40k!

Before we get started with the battle itself, let's have a look at some of the competing forces. Both of us have one squad of our chosen Astra Militarum regiment as well as a commander model to lead them.

Guardsmen of the Steel Legion forming a firing line

Breaching into a rebel-occupied building

Scotarian insurgents advancing through the ruins of their capital city

Lookout at his post

We both used sort of leather/khaki -theme on our models, to represent them fighting on the same harsh desert planet, and we even based our models in similar way. The Steel Legion player used orange as a brighter spot colour on his models, whereas I used blue, turquoise and purple.

Here is our glorious battlefield:

The game mat is from DeepCut Studios and the buildings are made of cardboard or packing materials sprayed black to provide quick and varied terrain for an urban conflict.

Here you can see our vision of a battlefield vox-station

The scenario we played was called Operation: Skyfall, where both sides fight for the dominance of a mid-field vox-station that can be used to call strafing runs on the enemy forces. The aim of the game was total annihilation of the foe.

To the story!

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Lieutenant Gregor Streinhart was just about to enjoy battlefield rations with his men when a trooper approached him, holding the mouthpiece of a vox-caster in an outstretched hand. All around them two squads of Steel Legion guardsmen were sitting amidst the ruins of the city, burrowing into their pouches and bags for something to eat.
"Sir, it's from regimental command..." the man explained as Lieutenant put down his untouched dry food and picked up the mouthpiece.
"Platoon Streinhart," he announced. For a moment there was only silence.
"Sir, there is a score of insurgents advancing on an unmanned vox-station near your location," a voice suddenly crackled on the channel.
"The station is capable of long-range communications and it was used to feed coordinates to a squadron of Valkyrie fighters to direct their strafing runs. Should the insurgents get hold of the station there's a risk of our own air support being used against us. Colonel has ordered your platoon to take and hold the location until further orders. Over."
"Understood. Streinhart out," Lieutenant acknowledged, handing the mouthpiece back to the comms-trooper.
"Alright men, no time for supper. We're moving out."

An hour later Streinhart led the first squad into the market district that held the vox-station. Splitting his men into three teams, he gave the order to advance towards the objective under cover.

On the other side of the district the first of the rebels could be seen, grim men native to this planet, determined to take the station and use it to their advantage in the fight for this city sector.

Wasting no time to wait for the insurgents to open fire, the guardsman carrying a missile-launcher took a knee and aimed. Seconds after a trail of smoke cut across the ruined cityscape as the rocket flew, only to explode harmlessly on a length of concrete wall just short of the rebel forces.

Hurried into action by the ear-splitting explosion, the insurgents dashed forward in small groups. Most took cover behind walls and buildings, but one group remained still to allow their heavy weapons be brought to bear. Soon a return missile was spewed at the Imperials from a tube carried by one of the rebels, but the shot went wide and blew apart harmlessly behind the guardsmen.

Undaunted by the explosions echoing through the streets, a trio of Imperial troopers leveled their lasguns and poured a torrent of white-hot las-fire into the closest group of insurgents, cutting down two of the distant figures. The remaining rebel crouched behind the wall, clutching a plasmagun in his shaking hands.
"The Imperials will pay... I'll avenge you, cousin!" he muttered to the chilling body beside him and primed his weapon.

Two insurgents led by their sergeant were making a slow but purposeful crouched advance on the fortified watchtower ahead. On its roof stood a heavy bolter, a weapon with enough firepower to keep the Imperials clear of the vox-station for as long as would be needed. Seeing that missile-launchers and lasguns would have no effect on the covered advance of the rebels, Lieutenant Streinhart called out to a trooper carrying a grenade-launcher.
"Private Luther! Three targets to the right of that tower!"
The man nodded and lifted his weapon pointing upwards. After a moment of silent calculations two shells were lobbed into the air in quick succession, arcing through the air towards the tower.

Both shells landed right behind the wall, the twin blasts tearing apart the insurgents on the run. Spatters of gore that shot into the air from behind the obstacle brought a smile to Lieutenant Gregor's face under his gas-mask.
"Good shot, private!"

Grief-stricken, the rebel beside his fallen cousin sprung up from behind the cover and fired bolts of glowing plasma into the guardsmen in the distance. With no concern for personal safety the man kept firing until his plasmagun overheated and released the scalding exhaust fumes onto his face, slaying him outright.
The trail of plasma-shots hit the guardsmen hard, melting gaping holes into the barricade ahead of them. Two of the men threw themselves flat and avoided painful death, but the other two were not so lucky as gobbets of plasma hit their chests, pulverizing half their bodies before they even hit the ground.

The insurgents had already proved that they could put up a proper fight, and their leader was a living embodiment of that fact. Moving nimbly across the ruins and kneeling behind a low wall, the rebel commander checked his boltgun and set the fire selector to semi-automatic. Rising from behind the wall, he pulled the trigger five times before lowering himself back into cover. The bolts were carefully aimed despite the rebel leader's swift action and two guardsmen were punched from their feet with gaping holes in their chests.

The insurgents continued their covered advance towards the station in small groups, and although they had already suffered punishing casualties a new group entered the district carrying another plasmagun. The rebel heavy weapons team sprinted across the opening to make an attempt at taking the bolter tower, jumping over the corpses of those who had tried the same before them.

The overall situation across the market district seemed to favour the Imperials for now, as they were closer to the station and had taken precious few casualties compared to the battered insurgents who desperately tried to gain a foothold near the centre.

Lieutenant Streinhart walked calmly into the small opening where the station was located. There were insurgents up ahead, ready to fire upon any who strode too boldly in the open, but he was not concerned at all. Behind the Lieutenant two guardsmen clambered into position in the ground level of a ruined building, one of them carrying a missile-launcher on his shoulder.
From the distance a lonely guardsman tried his luck and fired off a burst of las-rounds, one of which cut straight through the eye of an insurgent peeking from behind a length of wall.

Once again Private Luther showed his worth as he caught a glimpse of the rebels running for the tower. His grenade-launcher coughed twice, a sound that was followed by two explosions tearing apart all but one of the hiding foes. The remaining rebel picked up the missile tube from the ground, aimed, cursed out loud and fired.
The rocket plunged past Lieutenant Gregor by a couple of feet before disappearing into the ground floor beyond. One more explosion wracked the field and the ears of those nearby as the Imperial missile-launcher team was obliterated by the enemy missile.

From behind the smoking building a group of three guardsmen appeared, to whom Lieutenant Streinhart gave a nod before running for the vox-station with his bolt pistol held in an outstretched hand. The insurgent commander was doing the same, vaulting himself over the concrete wall and sprinting towards the station. Las-fire from the guardsmen combined with the immense rounds from Gregor's bolt pistol did little to stop the leader despite the grievous wounds that had appeared in the unarmoured parts of his body.
The insurgents were visibly inspired by the heroic actions of their leader and surged forth, pouring shots into the general direction of the vox-station. Gregor ducked, leaving the shots to strike sparks on the walls of the station.

Even more rebels entered the district as fighting around the station reached its climax. Forming up a ragged firing line, the newly arrived rebels rapid-fired at Private Luther and his grenade-launching squad, felling the trio in one great hail of searing las.

Casualties were now mounting on both sides but the rebels kept up the pressure on the Imperials around the station, risking to overrun it if Gregor and his men didn't get reinforced by the remaining squad of his platoon any time soon.

As the enemy las-fire subsided for a moment Streinhart rose from behind the station wall, only to receive a cut across his forearm from the insurgent leader's curved knife.
"You call that a knife...?" Gregor asked, his voice threatening through the gas-mask. Before the abashed rebel had a chance to reply, his head went flying from a swing of a power sword.
"This... is a power sword," the Lieutenant finished, crouching to access the station's control panel.
"Platoon Streinhart needs urgent assistance in the market district. I repeat, Platoon Streinhart needs urgent assistance in the market district. Over."

Almost as soon as he had stopped talking the vox channel crackled back to life.
"Goreclaw Squadron here, reading you loud and clear. Four Valkyries are on their way," a voice replied casually.
"We are under fire at the vox-station Alpha in the middle of the district, surrounded by at least a dozen insurgents south of us," Gregor advised, already hearing the roar of engines in the sky above. The voice on the channel spoke again.
"I'd suggest you duck right about... now, sir."

The first of the fighters descended like an aerial predator, its guns blazing as it cut a fiery path through the rebel lines. Most of the insurgents managed to find some sort of cover but one unlucky individual was pulverized by the strafing run.

While still admiring the work of their air support, Lieutenant's helmet-vox made an announcement.
"Sergeant Cain here, sir. I'm right behind you with half my squad."
Exhaling in relief, Gregor gathered himself before making a reply.
"Already? Just make sure you don't steal my kills, sergeant. There aren't that many of these buggers left..."

The fighter squadron circled back and commenced another strafing run on the same coordinates, this time arriving at an angle that caught the rest of the rebels pressed against the safety of the wall and bunker. At the station Lieutenant himself blew an insurgent from his feet with a carefully placed shot from his bolt pistol, leaving only the rebel sergeant standing alone in the open.

Streinhart vaulted over the station wall and walked up to the man, who in his panicked state couldn't bring his plasma pistol to function after firing shots into the guardsmen in the distance. Just as the weapon had cooled and the sergeant lifted it up, the Imperial Lieutenant was standing right in front of him with a bolt pistol aimed at his head. There they stood, two men of the opposing sides staring down the barrels of each other's small arms, both locked in a staring contest that could only end by the death of the other.
The other remaining rebels had ran closer but now came to an abrupt halt, raising their weapons to aim at the two frozen combatants.
"Do not fire..." one of them murmured to the others. "Ishmael is too badly in the way."

For several seconds that felt like an eternity to all those witnessing this calm in the eye of the storm, neither combatant moved even an inch. The rebel's arm started to shake a bit, just enough for Gregor to notice it, meaning there were muscles being activated for the motion of pulling the trigger. Streinhart did it faster, though, and two simultaneous blasts echoed in the streets.
The insurgent fell first on his knees and then on his back, with half his head blown away. Gregor remained standing but with a still-glowing stripe across his chest where the plasma shot had grazed his longcoat. Still having not blinked, the Lieutenant lowered his pistol and turned his eyes towards the remaining rebels standing ahead of him, staring at them through his blood-stained gas-mask.

There was only silence. No gunshots, no explosions, no shouted commands, only the distant peal of war in the other sectors. The rebels merely stared at the man of steel standing before them. Their dead littered the ground, their leaders lie dead at the feet of this overly manly man who seemed to be all but indestructible.
Slowly, the insurgents backed away and disappeared into the streets behind them.

Gregor's own men, despite having witnessed his heroics before, stood awe-struck amidst the ruins. Only hearing their superior finally speak returned them to their senses.
"Casualty report."
"Nine dead, two lightly wounded. One heavy weapon beyond recovery," Sergeant Cain reported after a brief silence, stepping forward from the recently arrived group of men. "We made count on the way here."
"Acceptable," Streinhart stated, holstering his pistol in one fluid motion. "Secure the area. Inform regimental command that station Alpha has been retaken and needs to be manned. We'll be on our way in seven hours."

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That was... interesting, to say the least!
The battle felt quite balanced and we liked how important cover is with this ruleset, making troopers cling on to any piece of terrain they can. The scenario was a good start for the campaign as it was almost as close to a regular slugfest one can get with this scenario-pack, such is the number of more 'special' and unique operations that we still have on our playlist!

Heroes are quite powerful with these rules, perhaps even too much so. They don't deal a lot of damage but they seem to soak unnatural amounts of it! We'll chat over this with my opponent and we'll see if anything changes before we play the next battle.

A nice change of pace to write one of these. Hope you enjoyed it!

[40K] Scotaria Campaign

Yeah, your eyes are not lying. I have actually began to post Warhammer 40K stuff in my revered duardin stronghold. Why, you might ask? Well, let me explain myself...

My blog started off as dedicated to dwarves, hence the name and theme. Soon I realized that also wanted to make posts involving my other six armies, making me drop the "My Dwarf Collection!" -part out of the blog name and thus making this place dedicated to Age of Sigmar in general.
As all of you know, ExtraBushyBeards has been very much about narratives lately. Narrative battle reports, narrative campaigns, fan-fiction... and the list goes on. Some weeks ago I had this sudden inspiration to start writing narrative battle reports about Warhammer 40K, a game I've only tried one or two times during my many years in the hobby. Not willing to part completely with AoS for my love of that excellent game system, I took it upon myself to transform 40K into this more streamlined ruleset. After weeks of hard work I eventually found myself staring at my laptop screen with this all over the place:

Yup, I made a campaign that is set in the 40K universe and played with slightly modified Age of Sigmar rules and custom Warscrolls!
The best thing is that my brother agreed to play it with me, and we both picked up the forces needed: I acquired a squad of Tallarn Desert Raiders and a Captain, he got himself a Steel Legion squad and a Commander.

With these small forces we will start playing through this casual campaign, adding more units to each side as we see fit. The campaign has no strict structure in place, only a bunch of Battleplans tied together by a grand narrative:

"On the Mining World of Scotaria in the southern Scotaria System an insurgency has overthrown the local authorities and tries to claim the planet for its own purposes. The 177th Steel Legion regiment has been assigned to deal with the threat before it grows too large to contain. The anti-insurgency campaign begun with vast carpet bombings on the rebel regions, disabling many of the insurgents’ largest training camps while the rest of the 177th Regiment established a fortified foothold on the landing site near the planet’s capital, Tedoncar.

The primary objectives of the Imperial Forces are the following: to secure and ”clean” the capital, to secure the various industrial centres scattered around the planet and to quell any rebellious tendencies among the planet’s population.

The insurgency is fighting for its short life under the pressure of the Imperial warmachine, clinging to its hopes of freeing their people from the corrupt imperial authority and to lead the planet to a new age of peace and prosperity. The civil war has divided Scotaria’s population between loyalists and separatists, but even if they will have to wage war against their own brothers and cousins the rebels are willing to risk everything for a better future, free of oppression."

Let us take a closer look on the campaign itself.

The campaign features 13 Operations which can (and will) be played in a totally random order. Each Operation has a piece of narrative to go with it, explaining what is happening and why. The objectives of the Operation are explained, as are 2-3 special rules that aim to make the game more interesting and unique.

Most of the Operations are Battleplans from Age of Sigmar, modified and tailored to fit this particular narrative campaign, whilst others are completely homebrew.

A game need its rules, as do the models that play it out. We use the 4-page Age of Sigmar ruleset with one exception in the rules for battleshock: when a unit fails its battleshock test, we do not remove fleeing models which is how AoS does it, but instead the unit is then Pinned Down. A Pinned Down unit may not move, shoot or charge during its next turn unless the effect is canceled by a friendly Hero using the "Move! Move! Move!" -Command Ability on them. This particular Command Ability is common to all Heroes in the campaign and is somewhat equal to Age of Sigmar's Inspiring Presence.

The custom Warscrolls were made using the Warscroll Designer found on the web. Using some old (probably 5th or 6th ed) 40K Rulebook I wrote down the values using the weapon and model characteristics I found in there.

And lastly, what would a narrative campaign and battle reports be without some casualty markers?

I managed to find a picture of some old Tallarn Desert Raider casualty models so I put them on a textured background to make some casualty markers for the campaign!
I couldn't find any Steel Legion casualties so I took one of the Tallarn pics, erased all the camouflage on the coat and replaced the turban head with a gas-mask cut/pasted from a screenshot of the Steel Legion Squad models. As a finishing touch I gave the corpse a lasgun to go with it, showing that the guardsman fell fighting the enemies of the Imperim of Man!

Once everything was set, all we needed was an urban game mat and some ruined city terrain, which our stockpiles of cardboard and foam lavishly provided.

The campaign rules for curious eyes and minds are available here as a PDF file:

Scotaria Campaign PDF

What? You only want the markers? Here you go then: Scotaria Casualties PDF

We've already played our first Operation in this war for the planet of Scotaria and I will post it up here as a narrative as soon as I finish writing it. It seems ExtraBushyBeards is now dedicated to the narrative side of the wargaming hobby in general!

Campaign: Beginner's Path to Glory v1.3 Update

Hi there!

Just a quick update on the Beginner's Path to Glory -campaign set, containing fixes and factions!

In this update I fixed some problems with how the campaign PDF pages were displayed, overlapping some of the text. I also added faction pages for Fyreslayers and Skaven!

The Skaven faction contains all the major clans on one page: Verminus, Pestilens, Skryre, Moulder and Eshin. Followers and Hero Followers are rolled on their respective tables, with each result having an option for each of the clans; this way I saved a lot of space and time while enabling players to focus on one of the clans or cherry pick their favourites from all five options.

Also included are the Naming Your Heroes -tables for both of these new factions. What will happen to the diminished warrior fyrd of Karain Firehunter on his quest for ancestral glory? Will Tovik Goldslayer be able to fend off the ferocious attacks of Kutx Rotstabber and his verminous horde long enough to complete the construction of the Monolith of Grimnir? Are you clever enough to come up with a reasonable background story for a Skaven Warlord named Lashin Chitterwhisker?

Take this and find out

Until next time!

Raid on Shimmerglade Holdfast

G'morning, everyone!

During this brief pause in between my posts I've not been idle, and here is a Narrative Battle Report to prove it.

The game was played at our local club against a fellow I too rarely face on the battlefield. He had brought his Highborn Aelves to test their mettle against my Slaves to Darkness, and we opted to play a custom scenario we simply called the Barricades.

The aim of the scenario was to get more models inside the wooden walls than your opponent until the time ran out or we reached the bottom of battleround 6. My Slaves to Darkness were the attacking faction so I got a few extra models on the field as we balanced the game roughly using Wounds, to save time.

Let's dive into the narrative, shall we?

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Lord Althran Mournfire was leaning against a rock atop a flat hill with his arms crossed. His long, elegant two-handed sword was standing before him with its tip on the frozen ground, its perfect balance keeping it straight despite the weight of his helmet resting on top of the handle. All around him wooden palisade walls were being erected by his troops, their spears and shields leaning against each other in neat stacks around the construction site. Althran fixed his black oval eyes on a group of aelves hacking the hard-packed ground with picks and shovels, his heart filling with anxiety upon the realization that this enterprise would take many more days to finish.

Lord Mournfire had been one of the many aelven nobles tasked to raise forts and holdfasts in the wilderness surrounding the city of Caleria to protect it from the perils that lurked in every shadow of the Realm of Ghur. Of course it had been him who got the freezing tundras to the north as his charge, where the ground was stone-hard and materials had to be transported many miles since woods were scarce there.

His men had not been happy with the task, but they followed their lord without audible complaint. A regiment of citizen militia to act as muscle, his personal household guard to watch over the construction and a group of mounted Reavers to scout the surrounding lands, that was all he had taken with him as he had left the city two days ago.

A shiver went through Althran's lean body, rattling the lightweight metal plates of his scalemail armour. He didn't envy his men as the first group finished digging the ground and moved aside to sweep sweat from their pale brows, making way for the second group to strike wooden poles into the rummaged soil. Just as Althran was rubbing his gloved hands together to force the cold out of his limbs a mounted scout cantered to him, deftly avoiding the workers and household guards on the way. Even before the horse had halted the rider swept down from the saddle, gracefully taking a knee in the presence of his superior.

"My lord Mournfire, I bring dire tidings from the west..." the scout uttered, panting slightly.

"Report," Althran replied, already picking his helmet from where it rested atop his sword.

"A horde of Chaos followers approaches this site, my lord, foolish mortals led by a warlord that reeks of great dark power," the scout paused briefly as he searched his mind for more details. "They'll be upon us before the sun has set."

Dismissing the scout with the wave of his hand, lord Mournfire gripped the handle of his sword and lifted it in the brisk winter air.

"Gilean!" he called out to the captain of his household guard who was overseeing the workers. "Cease the work for today, we seem to be receiving uninvited visitors soon. Sound the call to arms and wake the mages from their meditations."

The captain bowed and strode off to prepare the men, starting with the twin brothers who accompanied them to provide arcane aid if needed. Two separate lengths of wall had already been finished, and lord Mournfire could only hope that was enough to repel this sudden assault.

With the last rays of sunlight arrived the Chaos host on the horizon. Hordes of barbarians, armoured and bare-chested, marched determinedly towards the partially finished holdfast. All around the surrounding tundra patches of snow glittered in the evening light like piles of crystals, a sight from whence the area drew its name.

Althran had positioned his citizen militia atop the walls, with himself standing in the gap between them along with his household guard and the mages. His mounted Reavers he had tasked to remain outside to harass the approaching enemy with hails of arrows.

Lord Althran Mournfire (in red), surrounded by his loyal household guard

Flanked by the mage brothers on each side, Althran felt relatively secure. His personal guard were among the most skilled warriors in the land, and both of the mages were renowned spellcasters and scholars in Caleria.

"Anything worth noting in this ragtag horde arrayed against us? Any tricks or deceit?" he asked the brother dressed in yellow garments. For a while the mage seemed to focus, his mouth tightening and eyes straining as they scanned the approaching ranks.

"None, my lord, aside from their leaders. The one in armour radiates considerable power, but the other two are minor shaman and priests, nothing the two of us can't handle," the mage replied finally, nodding to his brother at the last statement.

"Wonderful!" Althran exclaimed, with no real joy in his tone.

"Slay the twisted and the unholy! Stand your ground, highborn warriors, and show these brutes what it means to cross our path!" he cried out for all his men to hear. Bolstered by his words, every aelf in the fort resolved not to give any ground to the foe without watering it with their foul blood.

Across the frozen field stood Vladislav the Indestructable, a powerful Chaos lord sworn to Tzeentch. Clad in heavy magical armour he gazed upon the aelves standing behind half-finished barricades and laughed.

"This will be all too easy, Izazel," he uttered in a hollow voice, addressing the sorcerer walking behind him. "Puny aelves behind walls of sticks... their lifeblood will soak the ground by nightfall!"

Izazel the Twisted rolled his eyes. On his quest for power and glory he had need of a strong warlord to lead the tribes of his followers in battle. After finding a suitable youngling from the ruins of an unnamed ancient city he had spent years tutoring him in the ways of warfare and magic. The result of his efforts now walked before him, clad in magical artefacts and wielding a blade that contained a furious daemon...and yet this creation was reckless and foolish.

The reason behind this attack was simple: to test his apprentice's skills, body and mind in battle, and no target was better than a group of shivering pointy-ears trying to build a ring of sticks in the nearby tundra.

If anything, he was grateful for the presence of the Slaughterpriest at least. A huge monster of a man, twisted by the will of Khorne before he fell for the lure of Tzeentch, earning him the name of Sigismund the Betrayer. With a simpleton army of barbarians around him he welcomed the bloodmagic and experience of the man, even though he was far from trustworthy.

Vladislav thrust his pitch-black blade in the air, orange lightning dancing around its edges. With a deafening roar the hordes exploded into motion, running towards the aelven fort with murder in their eyes. Walking calmly behind the mindlessly screaming mobs, Izazel wove protective enchantments upon them as he knew to expect volleys of arrows when fighting this particular race. He was positively surprised to notice that even his apprentice, despite running along with the barbarians in a mad rush, focused enough to grant a protective spell upon a group of warriors. Perhaps there was some hidden calmness in that restless mind, after all...

As Izazel had wisely foreseen, the walls came alive with motion and spat forth clouds of shafts to repel the invaders. Placing their shields and spears leaning on the walls, the aelven militia had unslung bows from their backs and were lobbing arrows faster than a mortal eye could follow. Pure-white shafts punched into eye sockets and throats, stopping many barbarians dead in their tracks as they fell on the run to be trampled by their comrades.

Their ranks greatly thinned by the furious arrowstorm, the followers of Chaos pushed on despite their losses. From their right flank the aelven Reavers galloped in, lobbed three volleys of shafts into the barbarian horde in quick succession and turned around to run out of range once more. Frustrated by the cowardly tactics, the bare-chested warriors shouted insults on the run, only to be silenced by a few more arrows that struck through their open mouths.

Seeing the peril of their footslogging tribesmen, the mounted barbarians readied their throwing spears and went after the retreating Reavers. As the aelven cavalry turned around for another hit-and-run attack, they were greeted by a hail of javelins that punched an aelf from his mount and pierced the arm of another, spilling the first drops of highborn blood on the white snow that dotted the landscape.

Vladislav the Indestructible resolved not to waste more time in the open ground and roared at his men to pick up the pace again. Armoured warriors reached the palisades and begun to clamber up, eager to reach their arrogant foes. A tight formation of heavy barbarian cavalry charged full-tilt into lord Mournfire and his personal guard in an attempt to break their lines and gain access to the unfinished fort.

Sorry for the shaken pic!

Against any lesser race the Chaos assault would have been baneful, but against the valour and skill of the highborn the attack broke like a tidal wave upon a coastal rock. The twin mage brothers had spoken words of power and shielded the aelves with their arcane tricks, protecting them from the brunt of the enemy charge.

The Mournfire household guard lowered their greatswords like pikes before them, forcing the Chaos Knights' mounts to rear as they refused to run headlong into a thicket of ithilmar blades. With their momentum stolen away, the knights were easy prey to the aelven swordsmen who chipped away chunks of hell-forged armour with each graceful strike, even resulting in one of the knights falling off his mount with his head missing from the shoulders. Swinging their crude weapons in blind rage, the remaining barbarians managed to cleave apart the skulls of a few reckless aelves who ventured too close in search of a good striking angle.

Armoured Chaos Warriors reached the top of the palisade in ones and twos, only to be greeted with a wall of spears and shields. The barbarians were pushed down from the battlements before they gained a foothold, some never rising back up as their throats had been pierced by aelven blades.

Using their superior skills of horseback warfare, the Reavers shifted towards the safety of the palisades while releasing a wave of arrows at the barbarian horsemen on the move. Horses whinnied and men screamed as white shafts protruded from their unarmoured chests while they fell off the saddle, dead before they hit the ice-cold ground.

Making no real progress in their assault on the fort, the fortitude of the barbarians began to falter. Yet more armoured forms were pushed off the walls to crash on the ground, followed by swiftly shot arrows to ensure they never rose again. The Chaos Knights were bogged down as if they'd charged into a swamp, one that fought back with greatswords. Half the riders met their doom as elegant blades found gaps in their armour, darting in and out to pierce flesh and rupture organs with astonishing speed. Lord Mournfire himself accounted for one of the kills, his measured slash cutting off an arm and half a head as his blade danced around the edges of the enemy armour to cleave through all the soft spots.

The riderless horses of the slain knights were nothing to be ignored either, as one of Althran's household guards learned the hard way as his ribcage was shattered by a panicked kick from one of the mounts.

Snorting at the failure of those assailing the fort, Sigismund the Betrayer had a different approach to breaking the aelven defense.

"Why keep hitting your head against a wall when you can make those atop it come to you instead...?" the Slaughterpriest muttered to himself so that only the closest few barbarians could hear it. "To me, you lazy curs! Gather around me and I promise you the blood of our enemies!" he roared at those around him, making the barbarians hesitate a moment for leaving the assault on the foe ahead before forming around him.

Sigismund began to pray in an ancient tongue, gazing up at the skies with his hands spread out on either side of him. The men around him were growing restless as arrows thudded into their midst from the nearby palisade and all they did was stand in the open to be shot at.

Suddenly the arrowfire halted and a bloodthirsty cry went up from aelven throats. Their eyes burning red-hot with anger and bloodlust, the citizen militia on the walls abandoned their bows to pick up spears and shields. With no concern for personal safety the aelves stumbled down from the ramparts and charged into the open shouting threats and oaths in their own strange language.

Lord Althran saw the spearmen sally out and cried out in anguish.

"Volthilmar, halt! What in the name of Isha are you doing!?" he shouted desperately but the Warden of the militia unit was just as maddened as his men, running at the barbarians from the safety of the walls while roaring wildly.

"No..." Althran gasped, losing sight of them as the swirling melee around him went on furiously and he had to parry a clumsy swing from a Chaos Knight.

"Go get them, lads!" Sigismund bellowed as he opened his eyes, grinning wickedly. Amazed by the power at the Slaughterpriest's disposal, the barbarians around him howled with joy as they surrounded the blood-grazed militia and set upon them like hungry wolves.

With the remaining barbarians engaging the sallying militia, Vladislav the Indestructible had committed all his available forces to the battle. The fighting on the walls had no end or progress in sight, and even the charge on the gap had bogged down into a bloody maelstrom of maces, swords and limbs that had drained the strength from the Knights of Chaos. The aelven Reavers galloped inside to the safety of the palisade walls as they realized they were unable to help the bewitched citizen militia, seeing it more tactically beneficial to guard the walls now left unmanned.

Vladislav cast a quick look around him, ensuring all his men were giving their best effort in toppling this puny outpost. Satisfied, the lord of Chaos nodded to himself and started jogging towards the walls where his warriors were once again being beaten back from the ramparts. As the distance between him and the walls closed, Vladislav picked up speed that belied his size and the weight of his armour. Like a blazing comet of destruction he bounced into the midst of the foe from atop a snowy rock, crashing down upon the battlements so that the whole construction creaked and shook.

Once more the Warriors of Chaos clambered up, only to be cast down with spears and arrows jutting from the gaps in their armour. Their numbers were so few now that it seemed almost ridiculous that none of the defenders arrayed against them had suffered anything more than some scratches and flesh wounds. However, the arrival of the Indestructible changed everything, his massive form wreathed in protective spells of his own making and a daemon-bound sword raised high in the crisp winter air.

Each swing of the damned sword was terrible to behold, with the malevolent voice of the bound daemon screeching across its edge as the blade cut through the defenders in wide, cleaving blows. Shields, armour, flesh and bone all parted under the unholy touch of the weapon and the unmatched strength of its wielder, resulting in half a dozen mangled militia corpses falling from the ramparts in half as many swings.

The Chaos Knights in the gap were finally overwhelmed by Althran and his personal guard, their perfectly balanced blades cleaving apart one of the riders while lord Mournfire claimed the last. A swift slash cut the reins of the horse, making it rear as the rider lost all control. The second strike was a cruel thrust into the beast's belly, taking it down with a painful scream. Before the battered knight had a chance to pick himself up, Althran leaped gracefully upon him and his third blow separated the barbarian's hairy head from his shoulders, sending it rolling across the patches of now-red snow.

At the foot of the other stretch of palisade wall the forces of Chaos managed to achieve a triumph, led by Sigismund the Betrayer. The spell that had enraged and blinded the aelves wore off and they suddenly realized their peril, starting to form up a defensive circle of spears and shields. Alas, it was too late and the barbarians were already upon them. Horsemen rode straight into the disarrayed ranks of the spearmen, jabbing aelves down with their javelins to be trampled by their foam-mouthed horses. Bare-chested Marauders sprung upon them from the other side, using their body weight to unbalance the militia before sending an axe or flail to crush and cleave skulls and limbs.
By the time Sigismund strode to the scene, the whole group of aelves laid dead on the frozen ground, slain where they had stood.
"Well done..." he admitted in his low, rough voice, kicking aside an elegant helm with a bloody cleft on top.

Izazel the Twisted watched the events of the raid unfold, and even though he smiled at the slaughter of the citizen militia he knew that this test had been a failure. His apprentice and puppet was not yet ready, his reckless feeble-minded tactics resulting in the destruction of the current warband without any visible success. Feeling himself ultimately bored and irritated, he formed a telepathic connection to Vladislav.
"Return to me. You have failed and will suffer the consequences. Fall back."

With a bellow of rage and frustration, Vladislav looked once more around him. He had truly failed. His followers had died in droves while the success they had made was minimal. Ramming his massive shield into the jaws of an approaching spearman to send him flying from the battlements, he finally submitted.
"Yes, master," was the reply he formed in his mind to Izazel, unknowing that the sorcerer had followed through his entire string of thoughts with great interest.

"Fall back! Retreat you dogs, you have failed me and will feel my wrath on the flesh of your backs!" he roared, the warband responding with something akin to relief as they turned on their heels and ran into the vastness of the tundra. Muttering curses under his breath, Vladislav decapitated one more aelf trying to lunge at him before jumping down from the battlements and setting after his troops.

Gripping the handle of his greatsword in front of him with both hands, the blade dripping strings of clotting blood, lord Althran Mournfire watched his enemies vanish into the horizon from whence they had come. Not all of them made it far, though, as the remaining militia on the wall was more than glad to send a few shafts after the barbarians to punch through backs and thighs, cutting their retreat short.
"Gather the dead, tend to the wounded," he ordered his household guard as they arrayed around him, exhausted but triumphant. "And send the Reavers after the foe to harass them for fifty miles, after which they are to return here to speed up the construction work. We still have some daylight left." The warriors saluted and set off to fulfill their lord's command in the warm orange light of the setting sun.

"There was some terrifying dark potential to the armoured giant," said one of the mage brothers as he glided towards Althran on a gentle gust of conjured wind.
"We both sensed it. That one can prove troublesome in the future if it learns to harness that potential."
"I agree and I understand your concern, master mage. But right now we have a holdfast to finish," lord Mournfire replied, his gaze fixed on the setting sun in the distance. All around them aelven warriors took off their helmets and breastplates to ease the sweating now that the adrenaline rush of the battle had worn off, sitting in circles where flagons of springwater passed around and stories of personal feats were exchanged and lost comrades mourned.
"After I've set up this suddenly battle-tested fort I swear to gather an expedition and set after that monster."
"You'd be wise to do so, my lord. There's no better time to extinguish a threat than when it's still nothing more than a fledgling," the mage nodded, content with the verbal oath of a highborn noble.

As the brothers took their leave to regain their powers through meditation, Althran was left standing amidst the cold corpses of the enemy knights. He would let his men rest until the Reavers returned, when it was safe to resume the construction. The powerful Chaos lord was a matter he would have to deal with later on.

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An enjoyable game that ended up in crushing defeat for my Slaves to Darkness!
We had about one and a half hours of time which ran out at the end of the third battleround, resulting in me having no models inside the fort at all. Given some more time I could've been able to breach in, but ultimate victory was far from my grasp as my men died in their dozens at the foot of the makeshift walls...

Although I don't see many Highborn Aelf players around and the Compendium Warscrolls for them seem a bit meh, I was surprised with their performance on the field. Units like Ellyrian Reavers or Lothern Sea Guard were surprisingly effective and durable on the field, more so than what they looked like on paper. This particular battlereport was a joy to write as I got to try my hand at using noble aelves in the narrative. I think delving into aelven mind, manners and ways of war (as background research for this story) has sparked up a desire in me to collect a small force of them for the sake of my narratives. That would be my eight army. Heh. We'll see what happens!