warhammer battle fiction :-
"And the massive unit of warriors carrying axes that seemed bigger than the dwarves themselves did look rather menacing, the ogres would deal with those he decided."(a nice bit of Warhammer humour. Brets vs Dogs of War with Dwarf "allies")
| source : asrai.org | credit : Upyr | 6-Feb-2009 |
Iron Shovels and Golden Guns
The Captain surveyed the field. His runners had been right, drunk though they had been upon swaggering back to the ship. The two towers where here, just as the map had promised. So the golden guns must be here as well he thought to himself and grinned. Ah what he couldn’t do with those magical guns, outshoot any pirate on the high seas was what he could! And being enchanted and all, he could drink all the grog he could drink and still use them with awesome effect. Thoughts like these filled his heart with almost as much warmth as the sight of his recent recruits.
Four massive ogres with huge iron shovels as weapons, they would dig up those guns in no time, and crush anyone trying to stop them with impunity. And the Maneater of course, even though he distrusted those hungry eyes he knew that he could hold his own in battle, and that would be needed here.
For the runners had reported something else as well, foes where about. Dwarves to be precise, and even though he disliked the thought of having to fight on land against these sturdy adversaries, he had faith in his ogres, and his own regiment of crazy dwarven slayers led by the infamous Long Drong himself, ah it would be a good scrap. Oh and the deckhands, but they where mainly there to die anyway. The ogres he could fool, and the deckhands he had no interest in sharing the loot with, only Drong knew what kind of treasure he was searching for and only Drong posed any real threat.
How fitting then that he would see the heaviest fighting, the captain thought and smiled wickedly to himself. Sharing a knowing glance with his first mate, he ordered the advance over the hill.
Taking a stance on the left side of the massive hill he ordered his crew to take up positions. The ironguts in front of him and eight deckhands in front of those. His first mate would advance in the cover of the tattooed dwarven flesh of the Slayer pirates who took up the middle in front of the hill. And on the right flank he sent the rest of his deckhands and the maneater.
In the distance to the north he could see the dwarves, they had already taken up a defensive position on two hills. He saw a warmachine that reminded him of a bunch of small cannons tied together standing on a small hill, and a regiment of quarrellers on the ground in front of it. On the bigger hill further away he could make out a regiment of thunderers as well. And the massive unit of warriors carrying axes that seemed bigger than the dwarves themselves did look rather menacing, the ogres would deal with those he decided. And finally he could make out the enemy commander, moving alone and holding up a bluishly glowing axe in challenge to the pirates.
“Come then” the captain whispered grimly. For those guns he would take on any foe…
Then he took a look at what he was there for. The two towers that allegedly held the Golden Guns of Sartosa. One of them was situated in front of a large forest that took up the mid section to the north. The other was in the middle of the field with a long wall protecting it to the east. For no apparent reason though, the east of the field was a blur of hills forests and hedges, nothing to worry about really.
Then he gave the order; “We take the middle, secure the tower and slaughter (those damned dwarves) the enemy!” he corrected himself in the last second, casting a wary glance at Long Drong and his band. He bellowed again: “Now move it you mangy dogs, attack!”
The pirates advanced against the tower and where met by a hail of crossbows, but the deckhand where to dexterous (or drunk and swaggering?) to be hit by them, only one of them fell, a bolt protruding from his shoulder. And the captains mocking thoughts about the cannon seemed to have been correct as it only sizzled harmlessly. But that was just the first salvo.
As they reached the tower another hail of crossbows was unleashed along with the boom of the cannon, and he could see the maneater being riddled with small cannonballs, tearing great gushing wounds into his flesh. He seemed unaffected though, only raising the volume of his roaring. Still the captain saw the wisdom of protecting his investment and sent some deckhands to screen him from the fire. The left unit of deckhands came under another rain of bolts but this time they surprised the dwarves, breaking into a run and charging them. The dwarves hurriedly tossed down the crossbows and took up their axes, but being thus surprised they only managed to just defend themselves against the pirate attack rather than actively trying to kill them. And so the battle continued.
The thunderers on the far away hill had for some reason wheeled to the right, shooting at some unseen target and the captain thought gleefully that they all must have gone mad, hah! Things were going his way, his deckhands were surprisingly holding their own against the quarrellers and now his ogres were close enough. Charge! He heard his first mate bellow, and charge they did. Tearing down upon the dwarves with a vengeance, their warcries was even enough to send the quarrellers packing, but they where to panicked for the deckhands weary legs to catch up with them. The warriors on the other hand held against the ferocious charge, despite a number of them being crushed and maimed by the brutes. Striking back they only managed to enfuriate the ogres further, and the battle seemed to be lost for them.
The captain was satisfied, until he saw that the dwarven thane had started to run. He must have gone mad along with his thunderers he thought, he surely could not hope to stand against the dwarfcrushing ogres himself! But then he saw the strangely glowing axe severing the head of an ogre clean off, sending them panicking from this insane adversary and his magic axe. Fury filled him and he growled “Do I have to do everything by myself!” and ordered the surviving deckhands on the left flank, along with his first mate, to follow him as he advanced against the thane. Break the leader - break the army. If history was any sign this was a great tactic, and now he would put it to the test.
Long Drong and his dwarves had been staying behind far to much for comfort, but he couldn’t worry about that now. The right side of his battleline was in disarray and the warriors where advancing against his ironguts who had only just gathered themselves but he was to focused to mind.
As the thane defiantly advanced against the superior numbers the organ gun tried again to even out the odds, again it sizzled meaninglessly and the thane seemed for a second to look almost hesitant, then he steadied and lifted his axe high as the pirates charged him with raised cutlasses. The thane coolly pointed a finger from his free hand against the first mate, the captain was stunned! How dares he mock me, am I not a worthy enough foe! The captain thought fiercly. Then he realised that the first mate would be seen as a betrayer of his kin, what with being a dwarf and all. That explained things. But cursed be the Rules of Engagement, now all he could do was watch as the two combatants circled eachother and prepared for the duel.
The two dwarves clashed with fierce fiery anger, axes clinging and blood drawing from both. Yet the first mate was the madder one, and the thane saw his impending doom in those glowing groggy eyes. He started backing, fighting off the ceaseless attacks with his axe as he did so, but the retreat was obvious and the pirates all knew what that meant. The duel was over. They where all over him like a pack of dogs, not even his mother would have recognized his face after the onslaught.
Meanwhile behind him, the warriors charged the ironguts who fled from the onslaught, but the dwarven pursuit was stopped in its tracks by the sturdy frames of Long Drong and his band, now battle was joined in earnest!
The thunderers where still shooting but now the captain was in position to see past the forest, and what he saw filled his heart with dread.
Bretonnian knights! Here, impossible! Well. It was bretonnian land, but they had no business here, no one should know about his treasure hunt, obviously the burly dwarves had advanced carelessly and drawn attention to themselves. He roared out in anger, cursing the dwarves for ruining is quest. Then he ordered his ragtag unit towards the northern forest, this battle was over, for him at least.
The battle between the warriors and the Slayers was being watched by the wounded maneater, the decimated ironguts, and the remaining deckhands. No one was helping them, they all had their orders. But the joy of watching the battle swing to and fro was shattered as all of a sudden the sound of a mighty battle horn sounded behind the great wall to their right flank.
Then the impossible happened. A mighty unit of Bretonnian knights charged straight THROUGH the wall! Fred, leader of the deckhands, had to prick his foot with the top of his cutlass to see that he wasn’t hallucinating due to all the opium. Somehow the very solid knights and their equally solid horses had managed to pass straight through the extremely solid-looking stone walls. Strange magic was at work here, and Fred was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Yet the ogres around him only roared louder, to them it looked as more food just rode in, and their confidence strengthened his. The knights crashed into the rear of the warriors, crashing into them with hoof and lance, breaking their spirit and sending them running straight by the slayers. But Fred let them pass, the knights were a far more pressing matter. He was the highest ranking pirate around so he, with a somewhat shaky voice, ordered the charge. He wasn’t supposed to help Drong but his orders seemed less and less important the more he compared the speed of those horses to his own running skills. So in they went, and the real slaughter began, all over the battlefield.
In the north the unit of knights crashed into the surviving crossbowmen, crushing most of them and riding onward straight past the thunderers and the dwarven cannon-thing into the forested meadow. Now, having no other target than the fleeing pirate captain, his first mate and the few surviving deckhands - the dwarves took vengeance with grimness. Lead shot shredded flesh from bones and cannonballs the size of heads crushed just that, heads. Not one of the cowardly pirates remained on this side of the field and Kredrak, the gunner of the organ gun, was mighty satisfied that the infernal machine had finally decided to work.
His satisfaction lessened as the knights returned from their pursuit. Their swords, already soaked in dwarven blood, drew even more as they rode down both the thunderers and the organ gun, Kredrak tried to explode the cannon just as a lance pierced his heart from the back, he saw the tip coming out of his chest and sighed softly “Shiny..” and died.
To the south, things where looking much the same. Slayers where dying in droves, and even the mighty shovels of the ogres where unable to hurt the heavily armoured bretonnian knights much. The maneater bit a head clean off, but the unit only fought harder. Long Drong and the Paladin flying the Battle Standard of the bretonnian force where fighting in the middle of the chaotic battle. Guns blazed and blood floated from great gashes in the paladins armour, but blood also flowed from numerous cuts on Drongs body, yet neither fighter gave any ground.
Fred watched as the foolish ogres along with his fellow crewmembers pointlessly attacked the knights and himself started slashing at the legs of the horses, he may have been a pirate but he was no fool! As he proudly bragged about himself to himself in his head, aforementioned head was caved in by a hoof, and Fred felt unconsciousness welcome him into the darkness.
The bretonnians sent all the pirates fleeing and killed the slayers to a man, to Drong to be exact. The knights left the duellers to their business and started running down the fleeing pirates. Fred was carried by his friends and they managed to just break the crest of the hill as the ogres held the pursuing knights at bay. Unknowingly saving the lives of the few deckhands, the last survivors of the pirate force of Captain Jones.
Long Drong refused to give ground, fighting bravely and fiercly against the mounted superiority of the Paladin. Being an honourable man, the Paladin recognized and appreciated the bravery of the dwarf, and offered him his life, lowering his sword and shield and waited for the dwarfs response.
Drong coolly nodded. Then, with equal cool, raised both his pistols and shot the Paladins head clean off. The body fell to the ground and the horse reared in panic. The knights around the dwarf where shocked and stunned by this behaviour, it was against everything they believed in! With the few precious seconds of time he had. Long Drong acted with undwarfish speed. He drew a rope hanging from the Paladins horse´s saddle under the howls of the knights who had now started to ride back against him “That horse will never accept you, you murderer! Surrender now in the name of the Lady!”. Drong hardly heard them. Placing himself on the dead paladins big polished shield and placing a lead shot in the arse of the horse, he surfed away at an awesome speed. Somehow keeping his balance by grasping the rope in a vice like grip.
Despite being hardly able to breathe he managed to mutter under his breath, to the horse: “Who said anything about riding. Now giddy up! I´ve got a ship to commandeer.”
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More like humour than a very serious report. Some things are obviusly not 100% true to the battle but all the important events are, and IIRC most of the non-important to. Fred actually survived, yay. If the knights-moving-through-the-wall moment seems wierd, remember their magic banner. (Drong was actually still alive as the battle ended, he really didnt wanna leave those guns lying )
Sorry for bumping up this long dead topic, but I´m actually a little proud of this non-epic pure-for-fun report, and with the battle in question as well. Eventhough the Bretonnian player did get a little of a walking win. Me and the Dwarven player are what you would call arch-enemies so neither of us could fight the urge to just mush eachother as much as we could before he arrived with his force, glory before tactic is the motto for captains drunk on grog and the though of golden guns.
What I was trying to say with the above rant was that I felt this deserved to be read by some more people before returning to oblivion again.
[Ed. I really enjoyed that. It's "chalked up" as Bretonnian victory]
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