Wood Elves vs Bretonnians 600 pts battle story

warhammer fantasy story report :-

"Oblivious to his men’s death the Paladin slammed into the Elves like a thunder bolt! He swung his sword fiercely and cut 3 elves down, while his stallion (Fred) trampled an elf." [Fred ?! Lol - Ed.]

(One of a series of battle stories following the exploits of the Bretonnian hero Sir Giles de Mer)

source : warhammer.org.uk

credit : Dark Haven

15-Apr-2009

Battle 2 "Arrows of the Asrai"

Enemy: Wood elves
Points: 600

Bretonnia Army

Paladin (Giles de Mer) = 100
w/ Lance, Shield, Barded Warhorse, Sword of Might

Paladin (Jacques du Payen) = 129
w/ BSB, Sword, Heavy Armor, Barded Warhorse, Warbanner, Virtue of Duty

5x Knights Errant = 121
w/ Lances, Heavy armor, Shield, Swords, Full Command

5x Knights of the Realm = 144
w/ Lances, Shields, Swords, Heavy Armor, Full Command

14x Archers = 103
w/ Longbows, daggers, skirmishers, music

Wood Elves Army

Spellsinger (Lora Forestdancer)
w/ Level 2, Deep Wood sphere, Longbow, Sword. (Casts tree singing twice a turn)

6x Wardancers
w/ Dancer Leader

12x Dryads
w/ Branch Nymph

10x Glade Guard
w/ Longbows, Light Armor, Swords

Seeing the Elf witch disappear into the woods, Giles summoned his bugler, who promptly trumpeted 3 great blaring notes. Forming into the Lance formation, the Bretonnians and their peasant archers regrouped and then sped after the Elf. As they cleared the forest, the saw the Elf witch again, only this time she had reinforcements.


Turns 1-3

Once more upon seeing the enemy, Giles commanded his men to stop and pray for guidance and protection from the Lady. After their recent defeat, the Wood Elves had no mercy left and immediately attacked. Their war dancers and Dryads charged forwards shrieking terrible war cries. Lora smiled benignly as she cast treesinging on the peasant archers hiding in the forest. With a loud crunch four of them were ripped apart by the animated tree limbs causing the rest to flee. The archers fired their arrows into the peasants and killed another two with lethal accuracy. After witnessing the ferocity of the Asrai attack, Giles roared his peasants to stand their ground (After looking his big sword, they gulped and immediately got back into formation.) Seeing the encroaching mass of Dryads and frenzied Elf warriors, Giles carefully moved his cavalry into position to spring a trap on the elves.

Once more the Dryads and wardancers ran forward, this time Lora joined the wardancers and continued to cast treesinging without ceasing. The archers fired again into the Knights of the Realm and shot Sir Glorin in the head. Roaring his battle cry Giles lowered his lance and charged the surprised Wardancers who had thought themselves safe. With a massive yell the Knights slammed into the wardancers and a great spray of blood erupted into the air as five of the six were gored with lances. Quaking in fear at the wrathful knights, the wardancer and Lora fled only to be cut down by a sword. Seeking more glory, young Sir Giles overran forward towards the hill where a squad of cloaked elven archers were pouring arrows into them.


Turns 4-6

With the loss of their leader and their shock troops the Dryads seemed momentarily shocked and merely shuffled around a bit. The archers, seeking revenge, shot at the Knight of Realm and were rewarded with another head shot. Now eager for combat, the Errants led by Sir Jacques slowly picked their way through the difficult terrain in order to engage the Dryads. Once again Sir Giles lowered his lance and his knights charged into the Archers who bravely held their ground and let off a final hasty volley that dropped all the knights except Sir Giles. Oblivious to his men’s death the Paladin slammed into the Elves like a thunder bolt! He swung his sword fiercely and cut 3 elves down, while his stallion (Fred) trampled an elf. Beset by the berserker fury of the paladin, the archers broke and were all cut down by Sir Giles. Following this, the Dryads charged into the Knights Errant and killed 1.

The Errants responded by slaying 2, but the Dryads broke and fled. After rallying, they later charged the lonely figure of sir Giles thinking him to be easy sprt. They were to be sadly mistaken. Even surrounded by a sea of whirling tree branches and nettles, Giles fought on as his armor was heavily dented as it protected him from a relentless volley of attacks. “Landuin and the Lady!” Sir Giles bellowed as he cut down 3 dryads; faced with such ferocity the Dryads fled from blood spattered Paladin only to be run down by him. With that, the Wood elves were wiped out.

Result: Bretonnian Victory!

Sir Giles slid off his saddle to the cheering of his men. “We have victory!” he yelled in jubilation. All around him knight and peasant alike were roaring their triumph. Their Baron had led them to not one, but two victories in a single day. Their cheering stopped abruptly when then realized they were now silently surrounded by dozens of cloaked elves. Each with a longbow nocked with an arrow.

Orcs and Goblins vs Dark Elves 2250 pt battle story

warhammer fantasy battle report narrative :-

"Finally it was time! Grashkul raised his axe and with a mighty WAARGH! he ordered his army to throw caution to the wind and charge..."

(a superb humourous and characterful short story - I loved it)

source : druchii.net

credit : Blackfel

07-Apr-2009

Grashkul Throatrippa gripped his magical axe tightly in a clawed fist and clouted his boar on the head with the flat of his blade for good measure. The beast wasn’t doing anything particularly wrong, but the boar had been too quiet for too long and Grashkul wanted him to be ready for battle when the time came. The boar responded with a toss of his head and an angry squeal, and then began eagerly pawing at the ground as if he had been waiting for the blow to signal the right moment. Once he was certain that the boar had been properly motivated for the upcoming fight, the Black Orc Warboss checked the condition of his troops. He was surrounded by a large unit of Black Orcs, who were just as eager as he was to come to grips with the pointy-headed gits that waited for them across the field. On his right, five trolls meandered about aimlessly, scratching themselves idly and picking fights with each other. Grashkul bellowed angrily at them, and the trolls responded by lining up in a semblance of something that might be considered a formation, but only because he was in a generous mood. Beside the trolls stood Harumph, a pale-skinned giant that had shown up the previous evening looking for a fight. He grinned at the giant, for he knew just how much havoc the giant could cause in his enemy’s ranks.

To his left stood a large unit of Big’uns, led by his trusty standard bearer Wozzlut. Wozzlut was a relatively trustworthy type, and could be counted on to keep his boyz in line when the killin’ began. Unfortunately, a second boar-mounted figure was in Wozzlut’s unit, but unlike the standard bearer this one couldn’t be counted on. Grashkul hated shamans with a passion, because they were so notoriously unreliable even for orcs. Nikpik had been with him for a while, but he still refused to trust him. To the left of the Big’uns was a large unit of Boar Boyz Big’uns. Their boars had heard the squeal from their leader’s mount and were responding enthusiastically with excited squeals of their own. Finally, Grashkul spared a glance for three small units of gobbos: two units of Wolf Riders and a largish group of Night Gobbos led by a shaman. He didn’t expect much from them, especially considering how drunk they were from the previous evening’s festivities, but it wasn’t like he could keep them away from the fighting. Who knew? With some luck they might be able to distract the enemy long enough for the Orcs to do some serious killin.

With his final inspection complete, Grashkul raised his axe over his head and waved it forward, bellowing to his troops to move out. To his surprise, the army seemed to move forward at a relatively good clip, and his battle line remained intact. Normally he could count on at least one unit to squabble amongst themselves, but it seemed like today the army was keeping it’s eye on the prize. To his right, the Wolf Riders raced forward and fired their bows, and Grashkul chuckled when several Pointy Heads fell to the rain of arrows. He expected the elves to run like the cowards they were, but to his disappointment they merely closed ranks and prepared to return fire.

The elves readied their weapons and moved forward to meet the Horde, though they were still too far away to charge. A huge, many-headed creature raced to the front of the army, directly opposite the unit of trolls, followed by two elves with barbed whips to keep the monster in line. The unit of crossbowmen that had taken fire from the Wolf Riders fired back, and several of the gobbos dropped from their saddles, riddled with tiny bolts. The second unit of Wolf Riders came under fire from a large group of black-clad horsemen, and Grashkul snorted in amusement as every one of the gobbos dropped dead on the spot. Useless gits.

Across from him the Elf lines began to shift, as units chose their targets and prepared for the coming assault. The elf general, riding some kind of lizard thing and holding a large red halberd ordered his men forward, and his unit responded by marching forward at a slow pace, keeping some distance between the two armies. Beside them another heavily armed unit of elves carrying huge swords who were led by another lizard-riding officer changed their formation and lined themselves up opposite the Boar Boyz. The monster with several heads come close enough that the Black Orcs felt a wave of dread wash over them, but not one of them succumbed to the feeling of terror that the monster evoked.

Finally it was time! Grashkul raised his axe and with a mighty WAARGH! he ordered his army to throw caution to the wind and charge. The results were less than spectacular. The Boar Boys meandered forward a couple of feet, as did his own unit of Black Orcs, but the worst was Wozzlut’s unit of Big’uns…they immediately turned on each other in anger and four orcs died in the ensuing squabble. The Boar Boyz lowered their spears and prepared to charge into the sword wielding elves, but they lost their nerve when the lizard mount the elf commander was riding bared his fangs at them and hissed. Thankfully, the Trolls managed to make it into combat with the many-headed thing, but despite their enthusiasm they lost the combat as one of the trolls was ripped to shreds by the monster, but not without losing a single head in return.

The elves, emboldened by the indecisiveness of the Orc forces, saw their chance and attacked en masse. A unit of elves armed with spears charged into Harumph, and one elf armed with two swords seemed to appear out of the shadows and joined in the fight with the spearmen. The giant reached for the elf, but took two serious gashes on the hand for his trouble. The Boar Boyz fared little better, as the greatsword wielding elves crashed into them and broke them completely. The Boar Boyz tried to run, but the elves were too fast for them and pulled them down from behind. Grashkul felt himself getting angrier and angrier, but then a stroke of good fortune occurred. In their enthusiasm to butcher the Boar Boyz, the elves came into range of the Gobbos, and with an excited shout the little gitz threw three fanatics into them. The ensuing carnage decimated the elf unit, though they held their ground.

Finally it was the Black Orcs’ turn to fight. The elf general pointed at him and screamed a challenge, and Grashkul thanked Gork for the opportunity to finally wet his axe with elf blood. The elf struck first, swinging his glowing red halberd in wide arc faster than Grashkul could react, and the magical weapon bit deeply into his shoulder and chest. The wounds were grave, but not fatal, and Grashkul grabbed the halberd before the elf could withdraw it and pulled him close. With a mighty swing of his axe, Grashkul separated the elf from his head, and laughed mightily as the headless body crashed to the ground. The elves didn’t lose heart at the loss of their leader, however, and the battle continued on. Beside them, three elf women pushing a cauldron of all things charged into the Big’uns, and caused a disproportionate amount of damage, though not enough to break the unit.

The gobbos struck again as the shaman let loose a magical barrage at the elf swordsmen and killed all but four of them, though again their discipline kept them from running. The giant and the trolls were slowly losing ground to their opponents, but there was nothing he could do to help them. The giant must have realized that he needed to do something fast or else, because he began jumping up and down on the unit of spearmen with bloodthirsty enthusiasm. With a cry of terror the spearmen broke, but managed to outrun the giant. His own unit’s fight remained stalemated for some time until the elf Halberdiers finally lost their nerve and ran away. Grashkul ordered his soldiers to follow, but they weren’t quite fast enough to catch the fleeing elves. With two large units of infantry broken he thought that the battle was all but over, but a series of catastrophic events happened all at once. The trolls finally lost to the many headed monster, the gobbos were charged and destroyed by the remaining swordsmen, and the Big’uns couldn’t defeat the three elf women with the big bubbling pot. Even worse, the elves they were chasing regained their nerve and turned to face him again, daring him to charge. He was just about to oblige the impudent elves when a rain of arrows took his unit from behind. The elf crossbowmen killed a few of his Black Orcs, as did the black-cloaked horsemen.

Grashkul watched as the last of his army died away under the relentless blades of the elves. In desperation, he ordered his Black Orcs to charge into the halberdiers one more time, but despite killing many of them, the elves held their ground. He realized his mistake when no less than three units crashed into the side and rear of his sole remaining unit, and the Black Orcs followed their brothers into the darkness.

The last thing Grashkul ever saw was his own headless body toppling from his boar’s saddle as the sword-wielding elf who had fought so well against Harumph avenged his general’s death with a single swing of his sword.

High Elves vs Ogre Kingdoms 2000pt battle story

warhammer fantasy narrative battle report :-

"The tyrant bellows his war cry (“Dinnertime!”) and charges my white lions."

(a well detailed story report that makes up for a lack of photos/maps)

source : warhammer.org.uk

credit : Silas7

1-Mar-2009

High Elves 2000 point army list

Elendriel – Archmage, lvl 4, annulian crystal, dispel scroll, ring of fury
Farendil – Mage, lvl 2, jewel of the dusk
Mithrandel – Noble, army standard bearer, dragon armor, shield, barded steed, helm of fortune, sword of might

10 archers
20 spearmen: full command, lion standard
15 phoenix guard: full command, war banner
14 white lions: full command, standard of balance
6 dragon princes: champion, musician, amulet of light
Lion chariot
2 phoenix claw bolt throwers
2 eagles

Ogre Kingdoms 2000 point army list

Tyrant: heavy armor, handguns
(kin–eater, siegebreaker, daemon killer scars)
Bruiser: ASB, heavy armor, rag banner
Butcher: bang stick, fistful of laurels
Butcher: dispel scroll
3 units of 3 bulls: light armor
20 gnoblars
8 gnoblar trappers
4 iron guts: standard, war banner
4 iron guts: standard
3 iron guts: standard
3 leadbelchers,
2 maneaters: cathayan longswords


Scenario: Pitched Battle

Bonus objectives: kill the enemy general, seize an enemy table quarter, posses an army standard (yours or your opponents), bonus point for netting all objectives.

My trusty camera battery died, so this report is text only. Our table had a ziggurat (hill) in the left corner of John’s deployment zone, and a spawning pool near the center. He deployed leadbelchers, bulls with a butcher, and his gnoblars back here. In front of them was a forest. He dropped his war banner iron guts with tyrant, and the other big iron gut unit beside it. He places his bruiser behind them in a unit of bulls. Near the middle of the table were two pieces of wall and on their right he deployed his small iron gut unit with butcher, and his last bull unit. His trappers deploy in the trees near his deployment zone.

I deployed an eagle on either flank. My white lions deployed in the center, with phoenix guard w/Mithrandel to their left, then spears with Elendriel to their left, and the lion chariot to their left. To the right of my lions were my bolt throwers and archers, and the dragon princes sat on the right flank. Farendil hung out with a bolt thrower crew for most of this game.


Turn 1:

The ogres surge forward, leadbelchers marching around the far side of the forest, gnoblars and bulls making for the gap between the forest and the pool. Elendriel suppresses the ogre magic phase. My white lions and phoenix guard advance, while the lion chariot maneuvered for a flank charge. A combination of my ring, fury of khaine, dark hand of death, and missile fire killed two of the tyrant’s bodyguards, but the ogres pressed on. The dragon princes road forward to face the ogres, one eagle flew to support him, the other flew back to march block his bulls, gnoblars, and leadbelchers.


Turn 2:

The tyrant bellows his war cry (“Dinnertime!”) and charges my white lions. While I brought the standard of balance to deal with undead and daemons, it would serve me well here too. His iron guts and bruiser/bull unit move to support the tyrant. The leadbelchers advance more cautiously; the gnoblars bicker and generally annoy the butcher behind them. The trappers hurl a handful of scrap at the lion chariot, nearly destroying it! On the very left the bulls back up a bit, looking nervous about facing the new and improved dragon princes. The white lions strike with great speed and kill an iron gut, but the survivor and tyrant kill several lions in return. The lions hold the line!

The dragon princes do charge the bulls, slaying one and sorely wounding a second, and run them down. My eagle had flown to divert the charge from his butcher/iron guts, but they panicked when the bulls were run down! The lion chariot slams into the last iron gut and kills him, and is then sundered in turn by the tyrant. It’s not enough to tip the scale of the combat, and the tyrant panics and is run down by the vicious white lions! Most of my magic is countered, but Elendriel’s ring fries two of the bruiser’s bulls.


Turn 3:

The leadbelchers finally clear the trees and see the rear of the spears. His trappers scuttle out of the forest, pulling out fistfuls of sharp scrap metal. The bruiser’s bulls and the iron guts tandem charge the white lions, who must receive the charge. The butcher and iron guts on the right flank rally, while the bulls keep lumbering away in a panic. On the left the butcher’s bulls move by the gnoblars and make for the spears.

Magic is uneventful, but shooting is thunderous as the leadbelchers kill five spearmen! The battle is fierce and bloody, and while a few iron guts die, many more white lions do, the last few stubbornly, stoically, refuse to run.

Elendriel gestures to her left, and the spears turn in precise ranks to face the oncoming bulls. The phoenix guard leaps forward to assist the white lions, but they remain tantalizing out of reach. My leftmost eagle charges after the fleeing bulls and routs t hem from the field. The dragon princes charge into the iron guts, killing one of them but losing twice that number. Overcome by fear (or shame at their lackluster performance) they flee the combat and the battlefield entirely. A hail of bolts slays a leadbelcher. The white lions are cut down at last, but the bulls and iron guts are both at half strength now.


Turn 4:

The bulls with butcher charge the spearmen, with the trappers piling in on the side. The bulls get hung up in the forest, so their charge is a trifle short. The gnoblars, to their horror, have run in on their own! The bruiser’s bulls and the iron guts both charge the phoenix guard. His leftmost butcher uses toothcracker to shatter every bone in the eagle’s body, killing it. The leadbelchers reload. The gnoblars are cut to pieces and chased down by the uncharacteristically bloodthirsty spears. The phoenix guard absorbs the charge from both units, cutting down an iron gut and a bull, and handily winning the combat. Both ogre units are cut down as they turn to run.

At this point, I take a moment to remember my objectives. The general is dead, and I have a battle standard on my side. I need to hold an enemy table quarter to score full points. The right quarter is held by the butcher and iron guts, and I have nothing left to even reach them. The left quarter has gnoblars and bulls in it. My phoenix guard turn and start moving to the left, while my spear elves swing closer to the leadbelchers.


Turn 5:

The butcher’s bulls turn and face the oncoming phoenix guard. The leadbelchers throw caution to the wind and charge the spearmen. One is punctured by the spears, and the survivor runs for it, Elendriel’s spears in hot pursuit.

The phoenix guard charge into the butchers’ bulls and do just that: butcher them. Elendriel orders the spears forward so he can unleash khaine’s fury on the gnoblars. Seven gnoblars die, and they panic. A bolt thrower brings down the the fleeing leadbelcher.


Turn 6:

With no ogres around to tell them what to do, the gnoblars make a dash for freedom and flee the field. Elendriel marches the spears forward and secures the table quarter for the Asur.

Victory for the High Elves ! 12/12 pts

John was a great opponent, with a nicely balanced army. He got a little unlucky with some die rolls and a few charges. Ogres do struggle against high elves with all of our attacks and their weak armor. I was also shielded from fear due to my army construction.

Ragnar and Jim finished their games early, so we stepped out for subs. I broke open the wine (it was past noon, after all) and got ready for my next match of the day.

Bretonnians vs Wood Elves 500 points

warhammer fantasy battle story :-

"Giles ordered the army to pray for the Lady’s blessing"
(excellent writing style. part of a series - more on the way)

source : warhammer.org.uk

credit : Dark Haven

11-Feb-2009

War Journal of Sir Giles de Mer

After assembling my shiny new 1000 point army, my paladin has set off on a quest to restore honor to his land in the troubled dukedom of Mousillon. Many years ago Mousillon shone like a light in the dark and was the epitomy of knighthood. Alas, it has faded.

My army will try to restore its glory and redeem it in the eyes of the lady, by fighting 100 battles on a personal campaign. Hope you all here at the Round Table enjoy this thread as it covers the epic tale of Giles, a young baron from Mousillon, seeking to return the glory that Landuin had brought to Mousillon. You will witness it all, from the most glorious vicotires and the crushing defeats. I now bring you the war journal of Sir Giles de Mer, last heir of Landuin's House.

Malentour was a small oasis in a desert of evil. It was a tiny land, only 40 acres of swamp and dark forests with a small castle in the middle of lake to defend it. There dwelled one of the last true knightly families of Mousillon. They had resisted the evil of Maldred and fought against the tides of undead, but slowly they were pushed back into this little castle at the edge of the wild. Here was born Giles of the Mer family, who are related through marriage to the bloodline of Landuin, Mousillon’s greatest hero. After obtaining his spurs on his errantry quest, Giles was formally given the position of Lord over his small domain. Realizing that his country men would not send aide to him in Mousillon. Giles decided to embark on a quest to drive out all that was foul and unclean from Mousillon and reclaim its lost lands from the other provinces. So that it could once again join the ranks of the noble dukedoms of Bretonnia. His troops were few, but determined and they had the blessing of the lady as well. For as Giles was about to depart on his quest, a damsel of the Lady joined his retinue and gave him visions from the Lady as well as practical advice on being a ruler.

The quest begins, but at the end of the 100 battles will Mousillon be reborn or have its last hope consumed by the darkness within?"

Battle 1 "Showdown in the Wetlands" (vs Wood Elves 500 pts)

Bretonnia Army List

Paladin (Giles de Mer) = 80
w/ Lance, Shield, Barded Warhorse, Sword

Paladin (Jacques du Payen) = 72
w/ BSB, Sword, Heavy Armor, Barded Warhorse

5x Knights Errant = 121
w/ Lances, Heavy armor, Shield, Swords, Full Command

5x Knights of the Realm = 144
w/ Lances, Shields, Swords, Heavy Armor, Full Command

11x Archers = 82
w/ Longbows, daggers, skirmishers, music

Wood Elves Army List

Spellsinger (Lora Forestdancer)
w/ Level 2, wooden sphere. (Casts tree singing twice a turn)

6x Wardancers

8x Dryads

10x Glade Guard
w/ Longbows, Light Armor, Swords

Shortly after leaving Malentour, Giles saw smoke in the distance. A village was burning. Seeking to save the lives of his countrymen and to test his mettle for the long road ahead, Giles ordered the attack. The bandits would pay!


Turns 1-3

Seeing nothing but the burning village, Giles ordered the army to pray for the Lady’s blessing. While this happened the trees began to move as a beautiful voice sang on the wind. With a sharp hiss the cloaked elves let off a volley of arrows but bounced off the armour of the knights. Seeing the group of cloaked elves and hunched tree minions, Giles ordered the archers to attack. With astonishing accuracy (long range, skirmishers) the peasants shot three of the six wardancers down. “Animals.” muttered Lora.

The dryads hide in the trees whilst slowly being moved up the field by treesinging. Again the glad guard unleashed their bows, but this time they shot down three peasants with arrows to the head. Yelling in rage, the peasants fired a volley while spitting curses at the elves. Their volley was deadly, killing all the remaining wardancers.


Turns 4-6

After witnessing the accuracy of the peasants, the elf forces quickly zoomed the field to take the fight to the Bretonnians. Again and again the spellsinger cast treesinging causing the Dryads in their cover to advance further up the field. The ranks of the glade guard silently stalked forward before bringing their bows to bear on the knights, but killing none. Sensing that the time was now, Giles slammed his visor down and lead his knights forward. His friend Jacques unfurled the beautiful banner of Malentour, its rich tapestry of color snapping in the gloom wind. “For Landuin and the Lady, CHARGE!” with that, the Errants slammed into the glade guard and slaughtered four of them for no losses.

Giles led the charge straight into the Dryads and smote 3 of the abominations down while passing a horde of armor saves in reply. After witnessing the awesome martial prowess of the knights, both the glade guard and the dryads broke and were run to ground. With only Lora left, the battle was over as she retreated deeper into the forest.

Result: Bretonnian victory!

On a hilltop overlooking the battlefield and buring village, the Damsel smiled as she saw the young knights raise his lance in triumph. “Perhaps the Lady is right, and Mousillon is not lost.

Bretonnians vs Dogs of War 750 pts

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.”

*******************

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]

Dwarfs vs The Empire 2000 points

warhammer fantasy campaign report :-

"Conrad had started to think that the artillery could win the battle for him on their own! "
(superb reporting, good terrain and great painting)

source : marienburgcampaign.com

credit : Conrad Gelburtz (Padre)

31-Jan-2009

Having received his first orders from Avermarshall Konig von Kuttenbach of Averland, Conrad Gelburtz gathered up his force from the taverns and inns of Suiddock and led them out of the city early in the morning despite their aching heads. Breakfast was ale and bread, taken in the few rests on the march.

They were heading towards the village of Melik, just north of Westen Kasteel, where there was intelligence of a Sigmarite allied mercenary Dwarfen army moving towards the city itself. The mercenaries were led by a young Lord whose name was unknown to Conrad, but he cared little, for he was confident the fellow would be dead by nightfall.



Ahead lay the battlefield and the village. The latter was empty, as the villagers had heard the blaring of horns and beating of drums and knew full well what was about to happen. They had been expecting trouble what with Westen Kasteel's occupation by the invading Sigmarite armies, and had already been raided twice. All had now fled towards Klessen to hide and await the outcome. The road stretched north-south from one side of the battlefield to the other, with an area of fenland to the west and the village to the east.



Conrad commanded the Tilean Pike regiment, and ordered the Averland Halberdiers to stay on his left flank. Both these regiments moved south across the open fields to the west of the road. The two Handgunner companies were to form the wings of this main body, with one leading the way down the road ahead of Bertrand and the Free Company.

Spotting the hill about the same time as he saw the dwarfen vanguard, Conrad ordered both his cannons to deploy there. Meanwhile he sent his skirmishers through the town – they would spring any traps and then come round on the left flank to support the main attack. The Ogres were instructed to trail behind the two main regiments, ready to deploy on their right flank when there was space.

The dwarfs had brought a lot of firepower – 20 Handgunners, a cannon, 20 Quarrellers and two Bolt Throwers. Conrad cursed himself for not bringing more handgunners (he’d left several companies to guard his fleet). The Dwarfs deployed their strength opposite Conrad’s strong centre, with a regiment of Warriors backed up by a regiment of Hammerers. A company of the dreaded Slayers blocked the road, while the missile troops formed four bodies in a long line, with the war machines spread along it too.





As the Duellists made their cautious way through the village, with the Estalians lagging behind, the cannons both opened fire. Incredibly one of them scored a direct hit on the dwarfen cannon with it’s first shot, destroying it and ensuring that the two main regiments would not have to face the horror of advancing direct towards it’s muzzle.

The army moved forwards as one, with Handgunners and Detachments acting bravely as screens for the main regiments. Conrad had promised the survivors of those companies that received the first enemy shot a double share of the plunder and loot, and with dwarfen handguns and pistols for the taking they were keen.



The Duellists emerged from the village to report that it seemed empty. Old Gisbech, still amongst them, now decided he would enter the house next to him and make his way to the upper storey – from the safety of a window he intended to rain forked lightning down on the foe.

Meanwhile the dwarfs opened fire, though some had moved instead. Their first dose of missiles slew some of the Handgunners on the road and nearly wiped out a detachment. The bolt throwers achieved nothing.



In return the Marienburgers reloaded and fired once more. The two cannons chose to play into the Hammerers and luck smiled on them a second time – in fact they couldn’t believe it. They scored a direct hit on the dwarfen general, and his old warrior guard were too slow to pull him away. The very heart of the dwarfen force, it’s commander, lay dead – and not a sword had yet been drawn!

Notice the hole in the Hammerers?


As the main regiments drew ever closer – both sides, it has to be admitted, moving cautiously, both trying to cover their flanks, both perhaps at heart afraid of the enemies’ firepower – the dwarfs let fly another withering volley. This time they took down an Irongut and more Handgunners. But yet again their bolt throwers merely ploughed their missiles into the soggy ground!

The two skirmishing companies now moved forwards, thought the Estalians still preferred the concealment of the houses and moved parallel to the Duellists but staying with the lane in the village.



Old Gisbech slew three of the Slayers with his magic, and enjoyed the cheer that went up from the boys in the street below – they always loved his firework displays. If only the presence of all those dwarfs wasn’t clouding his thoughts. The cannons thought to join in the fun once again, but this time could only wing the Hammerers. By now the Handgunners on the right flank, in the fen below the hill upon which the artillery stood, had taken shelter among the reeds and bogwort and begun firing out of it at the dwarfen crossbows upon the other side.

Yet again, however, the fighting regiments hesitated, as if both sides were uncertain yet if they had inflicted enough damage on the enemy with their firepower. Conrad had started to think that the artillery could win the battle for him on their own!

When the dwarfs third bout of missile fire was unleashed, Conrad started to realise he needed to get his lads stuck in. Another two Ironguts fell to bolt throwers and crossbows, leaving the lone survivor to break and run in panic!



Now that their protective shield of detachments had been shattered, the halberdiers started to fall to crossbow bolts – and their desperate cry to advance was heard by Conrad and understood. The two armies were now beginning to draw very close …



With a cheer, the Free Company and the Duellists both charged simultaneously into the Slayers – surely their numbers and skill would outmatch the legendary bravery of the crazy dwarfs? While they threw themselves into the battle, the Estalians finally emerged from the village, only to cower behind a stone wall when they saw the Thunderers waiting there on the right flank of the enemy!



As one cannon lobbed a ball into the midst of the dwarfen warriors, the other – its barrel growing hot and it’s crew nervous – misfired. Meanwhile on the road Bertrand was slain and fell in the first moment of the fight, and two more warriors fell from each side. But numbers won out, and the fight went on – favouring Conrad’s brave sailors.

The dwarfs now seemed hesitant, and both their Warriors and their Hammerers started falling backwards – they didn’t want to receive the enemies charge, but yearned somehow to deliver one themselves. Their prayers would not be answered! Meanwhile their Thunderers, Quarrellers and Bolt Throwers started tearing great ragged holes in Conrad’s two main regiments.

Enough was enough, Conrad ordered the charge. Both regiments just made it to the foe and combat was joined.



While they began their fight, the Slayers and Free Company tore into each other, but both sides stood their ground. The Ogre, thinking of his double share and how he would lose it if he fled, decided that he ought to stay after all. He turned around and was soon off to join the Handgunners in the fen were he felt he might be able to sit out the rest of the battle in safety!

The Estalians, suddenly terrified they might be shot at, decided to try their luck against the dwarfen Thunderers. They ran in, taking casualties in the counter-fire, and then conducted themselves as Conrad had seen on many occasions before – they broke and fled. But the left flank was still looking good for the Marienburgers as their Free Company Slew the Dragon Slayer and his last Slayer. In the centre, the Pike got caught up in a bloody, drawn out brawl with the Hammerers while the Halberdiers broke the Dwarfen warriors almost immediately, ran them down and crashed into the Quarrellers behind.

Then, and Conrad cursed for he should have seen it coming, the surviving Quarellers on the left flank of the dwarfs charged into the side of his Pike.



Moments before, on the Marienburgers’ left, the Thunderers fired into the Duellists who were trying to order themselves after the fight against the Slayers. The sudden loss of four comrades struck them hard, and they ran. Realising moment’s later that there was safety in the village, they turned to follow the Estalians in flight down the little lane to the east.



The Free Company tried to reach the same Thunderers before they suffered a similar fate, but their charge failed. Dreading the thought of the Bolt Thrower to their immediate right ripping them in two, they found spirit enough to cheer as a cannon ball bounced up and into the machine, creating a veritable cloud of splinters!

They now stood, bemused (and tired) and wondered it they'd done enough to satisfy their commander.



By now the dwarfs knew the game was up. Even though Conrad himself was wounded, the Pike had held their own against the Hammerers and although they almost broke twice, Conrad’s bravery was just enough to keep them battling.

It was growing dark, and the battle was clearly won. The surviving dwarfs fled the field, Conrad happy to let them fall back unmolested. Victor he might be, but his men were not fit to push on and prolong this fight. And besides, he could hear the thunderous sound of artillery to the south firing at and from the great castle. His men were not ready to join the fray there, yet, at least not now immediately after a battle.

Conrad ordered his army to return to the city. There he would repair and recruit. He needed more soldiers.

SOLID VICTORY for the Marienburg Alliance, in the Westen Kasteel area.

May the gods save Emperor Philip! May Marienburg prosper!

Orcs and Goblins vs Dwarfs 2000 points

warhammer fantasy battle report :-

"The nearby Dwarven cannoneers looked on with some bemusement: surely this ramshackle device belonged back in the museum, and not here on the battlefield!"

(superb battle maps and very amusing narrative. Look out an appearance by "Grom")

source : giltwar.wordpress.com

credit : the scribe

22-Jan-2009

Following the crushing defeat of the allied army, and the retreat of the devastated Bretonnian Army to Castle Calhew, Glarsnot Bloodcurdle found more and more greenskin tribes rallying to his bloody and victorious banner. What had started as a dispute over gold mining rights, and escalated into a clash with Karak Kadrin, had now become a fullscale Waaagh, stretching from the the northern Badlands, through the Border Princedoms and Black Mountains, and north to the World’s Edge.

While this presented new opportunities for loot and conquest, it also presented new challenges. Finally, after many entreaties, the reluctant Border Princes finally began to provide substantial material support to the embattled Calhews. Elsewhere, previously unengaged Dwarven holds mobilized their forces to confront the growing Greenskin challenge.

Indeed, soon enough, news soon reached the Orcish commander of a Dwarven force marching towards Mad Dog Pass–possibly to besiege the Orcish garrison at Black Crag, or possibly even to seize the pass itself. Perhaps more ominous still was the news that the army carried with it an ancient Dwarven device: one of the fearsome Goblin Hewers constructed decades ago by the famed (if rather deranged) Malakai Makaisson. Obtained years earlier as scrap parts by Master Engineer Ironthighs Ian of Karaz-a-Karak, it had been loving restored by his son, Curator Thesmith of the of the Dwarven Museum of Rocks, Technology, and Still More Rocks. With a band of specially recruited crew of graduate student Slayers, Curator Thesmith Son-of-Ian clearly hoped the museum piece would turn the tide against the Greenskin invasion…

DEPLOYMENT



The Goblin Hewer is indeed a fearsome device: 48″ range, usually hits, never misfires, and does D3 S4 hits per rank. It is, in my view, a seriously overpowered item…

Nonetheless, my opponent had a brand new (and newly-painted) one, so we wanted to use it. I had no intention of going up against it frontally. Instead, I would snipe at it with war-engines, and envelop from the flanks. My Black Orcs, supported by Night Goblin Spears and two small units of Spider-Riders, would take the west flank. The Orc Boys, supported by Spiders and a Troll, would take the east flank. Snotlings would advance through up the centre to draw fire.

TURN 1



Seeing the greenskin deployment, Dwarf-Lord Grevious Rustyblade immediately ordered the deployment of his reserves to the flanks, the reinforce them against the expected double envelopment. Elsewhere, the Rangers advanced to the edge of woods–much to the surprise of the advancing greenskins, who had not expected to find them there.

Meanwhile, Curator Thesmith Son-of-Ian, looking oddly out of place in a tweed jacket and pipe, removed the dustcover from the reconditioned Goblin-hewer, and gave the signal to start up its engine. Furiously, his graduate students started to pedal.

The nearby Dwarven cannoneers looked on with some bemusement: surely this ramshackle device belonged back in the museum, and not here on the battlefield!

The Goblin-Hewer clattered and hummed (and the furiously pedaling slayer/graduate students huffed and puffed) as the machine spun up to speed. The gunners guffawed one last time, turned to their own tried-and-tested weapons, and sighted the cannons upon the foe.

“Fire one!” With crash, a huge iron ball flew across the field, narrowly missing the Night Goblins.

“Fire two!” With an even larger crash, Dwarven cannoners flew in the air as the weapon exploded in a catastrophic misfire.

The Curator paid little attention as bits of iron, wood, and dwarven beard fell around him. Instead he leaned forward, and pressed the large red button marked “Press Me.” With a clatter, axes were hurled into the distance–and, his graduate students cheered as three of the Night Goblins fell dead. He could hardly wait to tell his fellow scholars back the the Museum’s Department of Arcane Devices (and Rocks) of his success.

Curators Thesmith’s fearsome demonstration did little to deter the brave Snotlings of the 787th and 788th Snotling Regiment, however, as they advanced towards the guns. A few wondered why there were so many Snotling Regiments, and why they were rarely heard of after their first battle. However, most of the Snotlings–being Snotlings–were more focused on making squeaky noises, picking their noses, and rushing towards their foe (a major reason, of course, why the life expectancy of Snotling Regiments is so regrettably short.) On the flanks, the bulk of the Army advanced too, urged on by an early waagh by Glarsnot Bloodcurdle that resulted in all of three units advancing an extra 1″ each…

Meanwhile, Mork (or, possibly, Gork) looked on from a distance, his oddly husky-like eyes glowing green with the lust of impending battle (or, possibly, dropped popcorn).




TURN 2



The Dwarves continued to march Warriors to their flanks as reinforcements, as their warmachines and shooters fired into the advancing Greenskins. For their part, Orcish shock troops advanced on each flank, supported by their Goblin allies.

Yepme Goboom, the wolf-mounted Goblin hero, clutched his Brimstone Bauble in his hand and spurred his mount along the edge of Cutting Copse, until he was just in sight of that infernal axe-throwing machine. If he could just get a clear charge at it…


TURN 3



Curator Thesmith Son-of-Ian looked up from his well-thumbed library copy of Globule’s Guide to Hurling long enough to see a lone Goblin near Cutting Copse. He calmly twirled a dial, prodded a graduate student to pedal faster, and pulled some lever. In the distance, the gobbo fell to the ground, three axes impaled in his little green head. The Curator puffed contently on his pipe: By Jove, this was a lovely device!

In the centre of the battlefield, the Thunderers and Quarrelers poured fire into the advancing Snotlings. Soon the once-proud (if unsurprisingly short-lived) 787th and 788th regiments were no more. Somewhere, a greenskin recruiter sighed, and accosted young, naive snotlings with tales of the exiting life one could lead in the soon-to-be-established 789th regiment.

Seeing the weakness in the greenskin centre, the Ironbreakers began to advance, hoping to either engage the Yella Moonz Night Goblins, or to outflank the flanking Black Orcs by circling around the now spider-infested Cutting Copse.

On the east flank of the battle, Glarsnot Bloodcurdle drew his Akrit Axe, and charged straight towards the Longbeard Rangers, his standard-bearer at his side. As he did so, Slarkfug Boarmuncher (astride, as usual, his Ironback Boar) led the Silentdeath Spiders through the woods and into the flank of the Dwarves. The fighting was fierce, but brief: the Longbeards lost the combat, turned, and were cut down.


TURN 4



Dwarf-Lord Grevious Rustyblade raised his hand to halt the column of Dwarven Warriors that had been steadily marching to strengthen his army’s eastern flank. With the Rangers gone, and the Orc Boyz advancing on the Quarellers, there was a real risk that he would simply be reinforcing failure. With a heavy heart, he signaled the Dwarves to turn around, and head back to the main body of the army. The eastern flank was on its own.

Indeed, as the Dwarven General feared, guttural war-cries could soon be heard as Glarsnot Bloodcurdle, Biggaboots Sicklifta, the Orc Boyz and the Dreadspinner Spiders all slammed into the Quarellers and both Grudge Throwers. Although they fought valiantly, the Dwarves were overcome. Only young Thane Karbon Ironsmelter, the battle standard bearer, survived the melee, and immediately rushed after the departing warriors as fast as his short little Dwarf legs would carry him.

On the west flank something of a standoff had developed. Neither the Blue Moonz Night Goblins nor the Greyweb Spiders were willing to charge into the Warriors, fearing they might either lose the fray or be subsequently shot to pieces by the Goblin Hewer. The Black Orcs too were reluctant to exit from behind the shelter of Cutting Copse, for fear of being cut down by the Curator’s contraption. Perhaps it was safer to just hold in position, and hope that the Goblin artillery–which had thus far done very little damage–might destroy the war-machine.


TURN 5



The standoff continued, as the two sides made minor adjustments to their line. Most significant of all, the Ironbreakers continued to circle around the woods, and the Black Orcs turned to face them, while the Darkvenom Spiders readied to charge the Ironbreaker’s flank.

The uncharacteristic Greenskin caution seemed fully vindicated when Curator Thesmith Son-of-Ian once more turned his weapon at the Yella Moonz Night Goblins, killing five of the double-ranked speargobbos in a single flurry of deadly axes.


TURN 6



The Ironbreakers continued to advance, their movement slowed by the need to negotiate around the woods, and their ranks thinned by several hits from the Spear Chukkas. The Black Orcs, with a Banner of Butchery and Spider allies waiting to pounce, stood luring the Dwarves deeper into a trap..

It was not to be, however. Night fell before the incredibly slow stunties could reach the Orcs. The battle had ended, with two Dwarven banners captured, and a marginal victory to the greenskins


EPILOGUE

This was one very odd game. My army crushed the Dwarves on my right, but once having achieved this victory I was unwilling to risk throwing it away by pressing on in the face of massed Dwarven gunfire and endless numbers of hurled axes. Indeed, the entire battle had been shaped by that cursed device: the Dwarves defending it, and me avoiding it.

Had the game gone on, the Ironbreakers were one turn away from being crushed–probably. Although they would have been flanked, and outnumbered, their gromril armour always makes them annoyingly difficult to kill.

Dark Elves vs Tomb Kings 2000 points

Warhammer Fantasy Battle Report summary:-

"Then they saw him--an undead lord atop a flaming chariot !"
(good battle report interspersed with some great narrative)

source : druchii.net

credit : The Griefbringer

15-Jan-2009

Thasia yawned as the fat human screamed, his flesh a webwork of razor thin cuts and rivulets of blood. Her torturers had been working over the self-styled 'Pasha of the Golden Coast' for almost an hour now in the hopes that the bloated toad's blubbering would cheer her, but the torture had become a wholly pedestrian affair. She directed them to a bowl of briny water standing in the corner. "Try the sea salt--see if that wakes him up any. I swear by Khaine if this wretch faints one more time..."

"He will not, mistress, we promise!" The lead torturer assured her, bowing. Thasia took at least some comfort in the fact that the druchii was trembling before her disinterest. It pleased her to know she was frightening to those feared most by her victims.

The expedition Thasia had led from the Spire of Splendid Agony to the so-called 'Golden Coast' had turned out to be an almost total waste of resources. The wretched huts and pathetic settlements along this stretch of coast were anything but golden, and their raids had brought the Lord Griefbringer nothing but slaves. Even here, in the so-called 'Shining City', they had found little but adobe and yellow paint, even after sacking it and raiding every home in the place. Here, at the center of it all, Thasia found herself sitting in a palace no more finely appointed with riches than her cabin aboard ship. She sighed--that was what one got raiding humans. Their idea of 'finery' was wearing hides and having a roof over their heads. Still, Duskwalker's Shades had *insisted* this city had been awash in gold bars no more than a month before their arrival, and more recent scouting reports from her own Riders (whom she trusted much more than any feral scout in the employ of some semi-mad sorceress) had confirmed several active gold mines no more than a few leagues from where she stood. There had to be gold *somewhere.*

Thasia was jolted from her musings by the blood-curdling screams of the Pasha. Thasia turned to him and looked in his piggish, beady eyes. "Have you never wondered, Pasha, where the old saying 'to rub salt in the wound' comes from?"

"A...a thousand curses on you, hell-witch!" The Pasha moaned.

Thasia nodded to the torturers. "Give him a more vigorous rubbing, please. The Pasha seems sleepy again."

The Pasha's screams doubled in volume.

When the torturer's stopped, Thasia squeezed the Pasha's fleshy cheeks in one gloved hand. "Tell me where the gold is, and this will all end. I know it was here--you are causing yourself nothing but pain by denying it to me."

"The gold...is...gone...gone forever...you cannot have it..."

"There is nothing the druchii cannot have, you sow. I have taken everything from you--your family, your subjects, your weapons, your land, your city. All that remains to you is your wretched life."

The Pasha's eyes were dull with terror. Suddenly, Thasia realized, it was not terror of *her* at all. He feared something else. "Then kill me." He hissed.

Thasia smiled. "Kill you? My darling, no! I never said I'd kill you--if you refuse me, I will keep you alive. You will live for a very, very long time. Whoever you fear can do nothing worse to you than my friends here can, I promise you. Before the end, you will beg for your death."

More salt was massaged into the thousand little cuts that crisscrossed the Pasha's body, and his screams contorted his body into unnatural positions. "It is beyond my power! The gold is given to the Great Prince Ahtshep, He Who Dwells In the Valley of Skulls!"

Thasia leaned forward. "Another human prince? You are a fool to have held out this long."

"He is no mere Prince. He is the Lord of Death, Scion of Immortal Settra. If you travel the south road, you will find only dust and death, and no gold."

Thasia raised one eyebrow. "Thank you for your concern for our safety, darling."

The Pasha began to laugh in a rattling, hoarse voice. "Not for you. We are His vassals, whom He, in His wisdom, has seen fit to spare, so long as we pay Him tribute and guard the approaches to His realm. If you pass the Gates of Raman-Ata, he will visit a plague upon us that will blacken the sun for a thousand days. So it was in the time of my forefathers, and so it will be again."

Silence fell over the room for a moment, and then spontaneous laughter began to spread among the druchii present. Thasia joined in, shaking her head in disbelief. "Poor, poor ignorant wretch! Plague? Fool! The plague is here; the plague is us, and we will never let you see the sun again."

Thasia rose and strode out of the room. Her lieutenants fell in at her side. "We march down the south road, send our scouts ahead. We will strip this land bare, or the Lord Griefbringer will have our hides."

"Mistress," Lekith the Reaver asked, "What of this Pasha?"

Thasia smiled. "See to it he is tortured. Make certain he lasts for one-thousand and one days."

So, in the quest to find Fraley a fantasy army that he'll want to pursue, we set up a 2000 point match against the Tomb Kings. I let him borrow the book and meditate on the list for a while, and do a little research. He came up with a list he had gotten online and a better grasp of the game than before.

The Heralds of Grief

Thasia Helltamer: DE Master (Mistress, in this case) w/Heavy Armor, Sea Dragon Cloak, Whip of Agony, Enchanted Shield, General with Serpent Corsairs (Dark Purple)

Guarael Blackwing: DE Master on Dark Pegasus w/Heavy Armor, Sea Dragon Cloak, Lance, Shield, Seal of Ghrond (Dark Blue)

Ithis Duskwalker: Lv 2 Sorceress, Dispel Scroll, Focus Familiar, Dark Lore w/Chillwind, Bladewind (Black lone model)

Helio Deathsong: Lv 2 Sorceress, Power Stone, Darkstar Cloak, Lore of Fire w/Fireball and The Burning Head (in Light Purple Corsairs)

The Black Orchid: Assassin w/Extra Hand Weapon, Rune of Khaine, Manbane (with Light Purple Corsairs)

14 Corsairs w/Full Command, Sea Serpent Standard (Dark Purple)
14 Corsairs w/Full Command, Warbanner (Light Purple)
6 Harpies (Purple-Red Skirmishers)
5 Dark Riders, RxBs + Musician (Black Cavalry)
5 Dark Riders, RxBs + Musician (Black Cavalry)
6 Cold One Knights w/Dread Knight, Banner w/Standard of Slaughter (Purple Cavalry)
6 Shades w/Xtra Hand Weapons (Black Skirmishers)
Hydra (Blue-green monster)


The Vanguard of Prince Ahtshep

Prince Ahtshep: Tomb Prince, General in Chariot w/Great Weapon, Chariot of Fire (w/Chariots)
High Liche Priest: Heirophant w/Cloak of Dunes, Staff of Ravening (Light Blue lone model)
Liche Priest: Dispel Scroll (w/Green Skeletons)

25 Skeletons w/sword and shield, Standard (Cream)
25 Skeletons w/Sword and Shield, Standard (Green)
16 Skeleton Archers (Light Blue Infantry)
3 Skeleton Chariots w/Standard (Turquoise)
5 Heavy Skeleton Cavalry (Blue Green)
3 Ushabti (Maroon)
3 Carrion (Orange)
2 Screaming Skull Catapults (Yellow)


Terrain and Deployment

The board featured an oasis in the NE quarter of the board, a mountain (big, multi-level hill) along the southern side, a small forest along the west edge, and a small hill in the NW corner. Finally, a pair of statues (gray blocks in the map) represented the border into the Tomb Prince's realm (just for fun).

I deployed Thasia's corsairs in position to pass defiantly through the statues, and Helio's corsairs flanked him to the east. East of that, at board center, went the Knights, and the Dark Riders got a good view of the battlefield atop thier steeds on the mountainside. In the west, the shades scouted up to the small forest, the harpies behind them, along with Ithis and Guarael. The Hydra squeezed between Thasia's unit and the harpies/Ithis, ready to zoom through the forest and chomp stuff up.

The TK castled in the NW corner around the hill on their side. The two catapults went on the hill, obviously, with the archers in front of them, who were meant to act as a screen for the Ushabti, who stood behind them. The two skeleton blocks formed the TK center, with the horsemen and then chariots forming their east flank. The Heirophant hid behind the cream-colored skeleton unit, with the Carrion behind him, ready to zoom out to cause trouble where needed or chase down fleeing units.

The Board after Deployment:



Turn 1

Despite my bonus for having fewer units, Fraley still won the roll to go first. He began by wheeling his line to face a southeasterly direction, expecting to recieve charges, no doubt, from the Knights and corsairs amassing on that flank. Curiously, he backed his Chariots up, taking a very defensive posture with what I think is a very offensive unit, but no matter. His magic/shooting phase made me feel the pain, anyway. As this was my first game actually playing against the Tomb Kings, I suddenly realized just how devastating their magic could be when Fraley was able to take a ranging shot with one catapult, missing the Knights but giving him a good idea of what to do in the shooting phase that followed. Then, the next two shots in the shooting phase felled a pair of Cold One Knights and they, gesturing wildly at their contracts that stated they were in no way obligated to tolerate bombardment by flaming skulls, ran for the hills. Elsewhere, the skeleton archers took shots at Thasia's unit, killing a corsair (a casualty I neglected to reflect in the map; I beg the reader's forebearance).

Top of Turn 1:



Master Guarael Blackwing, tasked as commander of the flanking force meant to surprise the enemy through the small copse of palms and rough undergrowth, steadied his mount, Omen, as Ithis Duskwalker came nearby. "What do you want, witch?"

"I have an offer for you, Blackwing." She said, her voice echoing as much inside his skull as through the arid desert air.

"Speak. I've no time for posturing."

Ithis nodded. "The Lord Griefbringer misplaces his trust in Thasia Helltamer. This I have known for some time, and I know you agree. Our noble lord grows impatient--he needs more troops to finally sieze the prize he has sought these many decades. Helltamer has promised him great prizes from this adventure. If she were to fail...

Guarael nodded, pensive. "I understand. You wish to...retire from the field early? There would be reports, would their not?"

"With only my Shades and the Beastmasters to observe? The Beastmasters will be too busy with the Hydra to notice, and the Shades, well," Ithis grinned, "I find it unlikely they shall live to tell anyone anything."

Guarael snorted. "See to it, or I will report your treachery myself."

"We will meet here later in the battle to solidify our alibis. None will be the wiser."

"We have an accord, witch. Now, begone--Helltamer is ordering the advance." Guarael said and, digging his spurs into Omen's black flanks, he surged into the air.

In the bottom of the first turn, I order the advance. Fraley is at once taken aback by the speed my army has at its disposal, and its ability to neatly bypass the barrier represented by the small forest on his west flank. Guarael leaps over the forest, screened by the harpies, while the shades and Hydra surge to the front of the woods. Ithis follows, but lacks sufficient movement to make it to the safety of the forest. Elsewhere, the Cold Ones complete their disgrace by failing to rally and running straight off the board, the bums. The Dark Riders gallop down the hill and pour crossbow bolts into the skeletal cavalry, killing several. This is coupled with a fireball from Helio's corsairs, knocking them down to one or two horses (I think it was one, actually--again the map is less than accurate). Thasia confindently marches her corsairs through the gates of Raman-Ata, while Helio's corsairs cover her flank, hanging back a bit. Finally, Ithis manages to get off a bladewind that kills off the crew of the closest skull catapult.

Bottom of Turn 1:



Turn 2

Fraley starts turn 2 with a problem on his west flank. Though the map doesn't *quite* show it, the skeletal archers were blocking the Ushabti's ability to charge anything, and the archers would be unable to successfully charge the harpies if they fled, which would leave them useless. He had intended them as a screen, but with Guarael able to fly over this screen and start destroying catapults, the screen wasn't so much helping him and helping myself. He decided to reform the skeletons to face and shoot the harpies, which they did in both the magic and shooting phases, killing only 2, but it was enough to make them run away. Nothing was going to charge or stop Guarael, though, so he took the time to heal the crew on one chariot and used the Carrion to block a charge to the other, keeping his precious catapults from being as easily destroyed. Then, in my backfield, the tomb scorpion dug itself up between the cursed gates and, seeing a lonely and vulnerable Ithis nearby, charged her. I failed my fear check and the sorceress ran straight off the board. Awesome.[sarcasm]

The rest of Fraley's line continued to reform and re-organize itself, getting ready to recieve my attack from the east.

Top of Turn 2 (Harpies are not shown as running off, but they did):



Sammaria and Khesthel rode like the wind from the mountain ridge where they had witnessed the dusty army of bone-soldiers emerge from the sands to challenge the druchii raid. They laughed in delight as their crossbow bolts crumbled undead horseman after undead horseman, and called to each other to greater feats of accuracy.

Then they saw him--an undead lord atop a flaming chariot, a mighty bronze sword held high over his head, his body armored in gold and emeralds. He, with a host of other undead chariots, rode towards the dark elf riders with ghostly steadiness, their pennants and banners barely flowing in the harsh desert wind. Sammaria pointed him out to Khesthel, "Hark! That must be prince something-or-other!"

"Ahtshep!" Khesthel offered, loading his crossbow as he guided his steed with his knees alone.

"Khesthel, I'm alarmed you remembered the name of a long-dead human!" Sammaria chided, putting a crossbow bolt through another skeletal horseman.

"I try to remember the names of those I intend to humiliate. Why do you think I learned yours, Sammaria?" Khesthel shot back, grinning.

"I claim his helmet." Sammaria said, spurring her horse faster.

"Not if I get there first!" Khesthel called, and rode right after her.

In my half of the turn, my plan became (or rather, continued to be) to keep the chariots busy with my dark riders, who would ride circles around them, peppering them liberally with barbed, black-fletched quarrells. Therefore, I moved one group of riders in position to flank the chariots while the other stayed put. I then used their shooting to both finish off the remainder of the heavy skeletal horsemen and to gun down a whole chariot's worth of wounds in Prince Ahtshep's unit (let's hear it for armor piercing!). In the center, both corsair units moved up, but the magic phase was a bust, thanks to Ithis's early departure. Guarael, meanwhile, failed his leadership test to charge the Skull Catapults, leading me to question his loyalty and leading *him* to sit there on his butt and watch the battle go by without him. The Hyrda and the shades, however, had a much better turn, charging into the skeleton archers and ravaging them horribly with a LOAD of wounds (I killed something like 12-13 of the 16 present) and overrunning. The Shades wound up hitting the Ushabti and the Hydra hit the flank of a skeleton block, and the Hydra rampage had begun.

Bottom of Turn 2:



Turn 3

Fraley began the Tomb King turn by charging the Carrion at Guarael who failed his fear test *again* and fled like the unbelievable wuss he is. His angle of flight, however, was just long enough to keep him from fleeing the board entirely, though he was seriously hugging the edge. The screaming skull catapults tried to lob shots at the Dark Riders, but they were too nimble for the ponderous warmachines, and very little damage was done. The Chariots backed off *again*, while the Heirophant flew away from being behind the skeleton block about to have not only a Hydra in the side but a unit of corsairs in the front. The Ushabti recieved the Incantation of Urgency from the Hierophant in question, allowing them to chop down 3 shades in the magic phase (should have saved my dispel dice to stop that one, but I didn't see it coming). Then, in the ensuing close combat phase, they killed the remaining shades for only one wound done in return. The Hydra, however, continued its rampage, killing a load of skeletons and wiping out a bunch more in combat resolution, for a grand total of 16 skeletons dead (!).

Top of Turn 3:



Thasia laughed as she slammed into the ranked pack of animated bones that stood between her and victory. They were slow, slower even than humans, and they were no match for her. She knew mere mortals and Asur would quake in terror in the face of the living dead, but she was druchii, and there was nothing that could stop her. She heard the roars of the war hydra as it tore through the skeletal ranks from the flank and soon, before she had even worked up a sweat, the whole block had melted before her. She ran on, seeking new foes. "Who dares stand before us! Who will challenge me!"

She did not see the ghostly chariots wheeling to her right, nor the baleful glare of the ancient prince who rode at their center.

In my half of the turn, Thasia's frenzied corsairs smacked into the front of the skeletons, but the Hydra still did most of the heavy lifting. The whole block crumbled in short order and Thasia's unit overran into the Tomb King backfield. Expecting a counter-charge on the Hydra from Ushabti and possibly Carrion, I wheeled Helio's unit to be in a position to charge the overrunning Ushabti, should they win, and also so I could get LOS to the tomb scorpion and the Liche Priest hiding in the other unit of skeletons. My fireball at the scorpion was ineffectual, but the burning head I tossed at the liche priest and unit actually went off. However, though he failed his 'Look Out Sir' roll, I rolled a 2 to wound him, so he survived. This is only fair, I suppose, since in my last game against Fraley (who was using Dwarves), a failed 'Look Out Sir' for Thasia led to her being unwounded by a grudge thrower stone. I killed another couple skeletons in the unit, but the casualties were largely inconsequential. Also inconsequential was the shooting of the Dark Riders, who only manage to do one wound to the chariots. Finally, Guarael rallied and turned to face the tomb scorpion, who was no doubt coming to visit next turn.

Bottom of Turn 3:



Turn 4

Several charges go off at the start of turn 4. First off, the Tomb Scorpion rams into Guarael, trying to pin him to the ground with a killing blow. They do one wound to each other and remain locked in combat. The other charge featured an ushabti charge to the rear of the Hydra (the map doesn't quite show the right angles, but it was a rear) and a flank charge by the Carrion. In a horrifying display of destructive fortitude, the Hydra shrugs off all the incoming hits and, with the help of the beastmasters, wipes out all the Ushabti and does enough combat res to crumble the remaining carrion. When the dust cleared from that one, both Fraley and I exchanged 'Wows'.

Now, for a bit of map-correcting: There was a third charge this turn, but I forgot it happened this turn when making the maps, so you guys will need to pretend. Spinning around in the movement phase, magic from the Liche Priest catapulted the Chariots into the flank of Thasia's corsairs (I tried dispelling, but rolled double ones). The ensuing combat killed 4-ish corsairs and won the chariots the combat by 5. They didn't outnumber, though, so I got a test on a 4. I rolled and, for the first time that game, a leadership test went my way--4 on the nose. The corsairs stuck, and the game suddenly changed. To make things even worse for fraley, he flew his heirophant out from cover to pelt the dark riders closing on him with the staff of ravening and two invocations of vengeance, but when the smoke cleared only 2 DRs had dropped, and they held, as well. Bad news for the Tomb Kings all around.

An erroneous map of the top of turn 4:



Guarael landed Omen in the clearing where he was to meet Ithis, but the place was deserted. Smelling treachery, he dismounted, drawing his sword. Then, skitting over the sandy earth with unnatural speed, a horrid amalgam of bone, bronze, and stone assaulted him, seeking to crush him with its massive claws or spear him with its spiked tail. He was knocked down by the force of its charge but, with its bulk above him, he thrust his blade deep into its body until rivers of silt began to pour from its enchanted innards. The thing hissed with phantasmal rage and dropped its bulk, attempting to crush him, but Guarael rolled away too quickly.

Standing now, his blade and shield ready, Guarael circled the scorpion-creature, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Well then, beast, let us dance..."

With the Chariots pinned in place, the Hydra discovered it had enough space to charge in support of the corsairs. Again, it proved its worth, crushing the ancient warmachines beneath its taloned feet. Though the tomb prince did slay another two corsairs, the rest of his minions failed him, and combat resolution caused him to crumble away. His curse, however, was sufficient to do one wound to the Hydra--the only wound it would take all game. Elsewhere, with the Heirophant exposed, the Dark Riders charged him, cutting him down easily and trampling his sun-dried bones beneath the hooves of their black-hearted steeds. Finally, Guarael was speared by the Tomb Scorpion's tail, killing him, and his steed broke and ran, escaping the board.

Bottom of Turn 4:



Turn 5

With their general and Heirophant gone, the two catapults crumbled immediately, though the other TK units remained. However, with only one block of skeletons left, and they with a Hydra which had overrun into their rear (again, the angles resulted in this last turn--the map doesn't quite do it), Fraley surrendered.

Sammaria and Khesthel let their mounts rest on the hill where, until a few minutes before, the undead warmachines had been raining skulls upon them. They cheered as the mighty Hydra tore the remaining skeletons apart with gleeful ferocity and, when it was over, there was scarely a sign that any army of the dead had ever existed.

"A grand victory today, eh, Khesthel?"

"My only regret is that the wretched prince's golden effects are now the property of our Mistress."

"You know perfectly well it couldn't have ended any other way."

"Cannot a druchii dream, Sammaria?"

"Not when they dream like that, they can't."

Khesthel didn't answer, but spurred his horse down to meet Mistress Thasia and her corsairs, and see if there would be any good pickings left among the dust and bones


Post Mortem

Well, I really have one thing I want to say first, before all others: HYDRA RAMPAGE CANNOT BE STOPPED!

Holy moley, that thing tore a giant hole through the undead and there was absolutely nothing Fraley had that could stop it. His only chance would have been to pelt it with catapult shots on turn 2--the one turn it was exposed before it hit combat--but even that wouldn't have been a guarantee. Beyond that, however, my victory was secured in two places: One, my opponent underestimated the efficacy of druchii fast cavalry and two, that leadership test on a 4 in turn 4. If Fraley takes down the Hydra with catapults, I do not win this game anywhere near as easily. If he deploys in order to shoot down the DR, I am stuck with nothing to stop the chariots. If my general's unit breaks, bad things follow. Woulda-shoulda-coulda, I know, but still, this game was closer than it looked.

I had a lot of fun and have a newly earned respect for the TK magic phase. Even though he was relatively inexperienced with its use, Fraley kept my dispel dice stretched, especially after Ithis ran away (the traitorous wench!). Had he made better deployment decision and had we remembered that Chariots have bows (we forgot), things likely would have been ugly for me.

In any case, the game was great fun and I look forward to the next one. Thanks for reading, and thanks, as always, to my opponent!