View Full Version : Max the mini-taur vs Orcs in "Even the gods know my name"

18-03-2012, 08:21
Fuff is in bold so you can skip to the actual report if you want. The fluff is pretty tongue in cheek. I greatly discourage anyone from actually trying to befriend a bull, doom or otherwise!

Episode 2 "Even the gods know my name"

Max is pretty small and slim for a Doombull, although that still makes him twice the size of a burly human. He makes up for this by being lighting fast, and a pretty quick thinker (for a talking cow). He's joined by his brother "Big T", A chaos convert beast mage known as the Gimp, and some madmen he'd inadvertently freed.

Although Maximus was quite dismayed that his horde composes more Men than beast, they had taken up gluing, sewing, and in one sad case, trying to nail horn-like objects to their heads. One inventive young lad had set a ornate candle-work on his head and before battle would produce enough candles from gods know where, and light himself aglow before running back and forth around Big T proclaming himself the "Burning Stag of glory" Max had promoted him to head madman on the spot, he deserved it. The fact that Big T (Who had four arms and could snatch up a wardancer mid-step), couldn't snatch up and gobble the little pest, showed that he was in the favor of the gods, at least to Max, also he liked to insult his bigger and often wittier brother when he could.
"Wanna here a joke" whispered a voice in the gloating Minotaur's ear?
"No Gimp" sighed Max.
" I bet you dooo-oooh"
"You lose" Growled Max"
"I wanna hear it" Roared Candle-Head.
"I don't think stags roar" said the doombull who was already regretting the promotion.
"Good lad" cackled The Gimp. What has 80 legs no pants, and loves paint?"
"An artistic Centipede?" Chimed in Big T, who was enjoying this a little too much by Max's reckoning
"Wrong, that waagh of savage orcs bearing down on us." Oiled the Shaman slyly.

The Minotaurs were already well on their way before two shadowy forms stepped out of the shadows, flanking the Shaman on both sides.
"The bargain has been made" chimed in one "A price must be paid" quipped the other.

They were an ancient evil and their names were Shadow and Death.



Doombull, Ramhorn always strike first build.

Shaman feedback scroll, lvl 1 beast

Shaman hex scroll, lvl 1 shadow

shaman herstone shard lvl1 death.

all shamen had thier sig spell

50 spear ungor horde full command

5 raiders

5 raiders




Waagh of the no pants danse macabre

Naked lvl 4 savage shaman.

Almost naked savage warboss +1 attack sword (or something)

40 or so savage orcs

40 or so savage orcs

huge horde of shortbow nightgobbos with fanatics and nets with spiderbanner bsb.

15 or so spider riders

Snotling pumpwagon.

Straight up battle line with only a few hills that really didn't matter.

Set up from left to right for him Savage horde with Shaman, pump wagon, nightgobbo horde with bsb, savage horde with general spider riders.

For the beastmen it was Ghorgon, Doombull in ungor horde, razorgor raiders, razorgor, raiders.

The plan was to string around the frenzied General while sweeping left to right mopping up the shaman Goblins and pump wagon. the plan would only fail if....

1. the spider riders took out my chaff

2. I am a complete idiot (Just wait and see.)

he got the roll to go first and took it.

Turn one Orcs

The Orcs came pouring in-mass and zans pants. Max realizes once again that his "Army" is out muscled, out manned, and surrounded. Orcs weren't the push overs the Scaven had been, and these orcs seemed more battle hungry than the normal lot, Chanting in tune with their own shaman, covered in weirdly glowing paint,and making up for their lack of clothing with an extra huge choppa in the other hand. It was an impressive sight in the dying twilight, and the madmen shuffled, eyeing each other with uneasy glances. Max, for one of the few times in his life was off-put and he took a slight hoof-step back, even Big T was sullen, shoulders slumped and looking grimly ahead.
Suddenly a bright light shone from the center of the Beastmen lines "I am the Burning stag of Glory. Chaos Glory! I will not Bow before these Heathen orcs and their false gods. Nor will I tremble before them, For non are Mightier than the Dark gods, and therefor non are mightier than us their children. March! For victory awaits the strong and glory, the brave. Roar Like the Mighty Stag!" Max didn't know which of the Gods, if any, were known as the Stag god or if any stag had roared, ever. All he knew was that his blood was pounding, his Axes were ready, and the Gods were watching. Most of all though, his belly had started to rumble.

All his units move up, I'm out of short bow range so it's on to magic.
He cast foot of gork on my doombull and friends on 6 dice, and doesn't miscast, I use the feed back scroll and take down the lvl 4. HA! also the foot killed 4 ungor and rolled a 1. I put it on the Warboss bot it scattered and killed 3 Savage orcs.

Beastmen turn 1
All my units move up, shooting misses, redirectors are set, and I miasma the Orc shaman's unit, as I will do every turn from here on out, and buff my ungor with beast sig spell. I also drop my very underwelming herdstone.

Big T Guffawed, not only had the little Candle-pest upstaged his brother, but the orcs has sent a rolling pile of junk with laughably small pointy sticks in the front and the smallest of their kind pumping hard to keep the pile or crud moving. Then Big T became angry, they only send this to me? Do they think so little of a ghorgon? Suddenly the little green child-pests, started to pump faster, glowing in the blue war paint, the pile of wood and nails sped up faster than a razorgor at full charge. Caught completely wrong-footed, the great beastman stumbled over a log, six limbs flailing in what would have been comical under less dire situations. He sat winded and splayed, directly in the path of the pump wagon, whose pointy bits no longer seemed very funny or very small anymore

Orcs turn two
The pumpwagon pumps harder, ending up 1" shy of my ghorgon. I find out the horror of 30 poisoned shots as my mid razorgor is shot down. My first unit of raiders flee a spider rider charge.

Beastmen turn two
I stupidly keep miasma targeted at the Savages with the now dead shaman, holding my ground, fearing fanatics to much to move forward. I regroup my raiders and charge the remaining razorgor at the spider rider's flank, they flee. I also buff my ungor with beast buff. Big T Smashes the pumpwagon and overruns right in front of the Savages......

"The time is almost Nigh" death whispered to the Gimp. "Lift your voice high" Shadow's sibilant hiss added. The Gimp knew now was his time, The gods would grant him power, over the cow men and the two entities he'd bargained with. With a powerful motion he tore asunder the aether, but no daemons bubbled forth to serve his every whelm. Just a hand, thick and meaty, with plenty of digits and way more knuckle joints than needed emerged. "The price is paid." intoned the twin terrors. The gimp was a wily old devil though, and even as his doom pulled him into the next realm, he lashed out, at the two devils that had betrayed him, at the stunned madmen, and also the doombull who lead them. The Orcs saw this as a sign of Gork or mork, and pressed in again. The Nightgoblins giggling madly as mushroom tainted arrows streaked green across the now dark sky, stabbing a razorgor over and over until even the mighty beast fell, to the loud cheering of the diminutive green skins. The beastmen lines were in disarray Max looked around dazed. Something inside had broken, a rib most likely. The magical blast had surly killed the Twisted shaman, That huge glowing pillar he'd magic-ed up is his tomb stone, the old fool, he thought grimly. Half a dozen madmen had been killed in the blast and the rest ran around clutching their heads in pain. Worse still before Bit T could Pick himself up, an thrown choppa slamed into his face, then another struck his chest, and one more hit his belly and sunk deep. The great beast's howl of pain was cut short as savages swarmed all over him, hacking and slashing with cruel barbed axes. Max looked on in horror as his brother was brought down.

Orcs turn Three
The left savages charge My ghorgon, Inflicting 3 wounds while I kill 5, I lose but stick on my stubborn ld. the spider riders rally, and move closer to my raiders. The gobblins fire at my Ungor horde, killing 4 with long range fire, while the Generals unit moves ever closer.

Beastmen turn three
I realize the orcs haven't been rolling animosity, the other players feel bad but I tell him not to worry, these are the get-a-long Orcs. I move both raider units around to threaten the spider riders and set up the razorgor for a flanks should they charge. I forget to declare a charge with my doombull to help out the Ghorgon but I get a no go when I ask if I can go back, oh well. The ghorgon wrecks the Savages, but they hold on snake eyes.

]"I've got to save the big lug, the fool can't do anything without me." Deep down though, Max knew his own hesitance had failed his brother from the start of the night. Again he stopped, He could easily banish the orcs..... but seeing the giant ruined mess of Big T. Not that, not ever. It wasn't a choice he's have to make as the ruined mess lurched up to one knee and hand, the other 4 appendages flailing all around him, scattering crazed orks everywhere.
"You look like hell and smell worse" Max taunted loudly.
"You're being shot, you scatterbrained Idiot!" Shouted Big T over the mouthful of Savage orc he had crammed into his maw." He was right, Max noted, although the weak poison didn't even tingle him or the puny arrows hurt, where they scraped the madmen, who were still shaken by the magical backlash, they left bright welts that led to a foaming, painful looking death. Most had found some cover and few died after the first volley. By all right they should have been dead by now, something or someone was aiding them. Max didn't really care who it was.

Orcs turn four
The Spider riders back away from the razorgor, and the Generals unit gets way too close to my ungor block, More shots pepper my death mage killing him 4. The ghorgon finishes up the savage orcs who flee a get caught despite bloodgreed. He overuns next to the Goblins and will have to keep moving behind them or get shot down, thus taking him out of the game.

Beastmen turn four. Miasma get dispelled Razorgor charges the spider rider's who flee and far right raiders charge them too, and they flee, but not into the general's unit like I wanted. I move the raiders right in front of the generals unit to redirect it, A fatal mistake. I trigger the Fanatics, who to my surprise don't have to target the unit that triggers them. the all end up in front of my doombull and friends pinning them in place :(.

Big T did his best to squash every lil green-pest he could He found himself too far out of the battle to be of any help, and too wounded to care. Off in the distance he saw a fresh unit of the savage orcs skulking close to his brother, who was unaware, pinned down by arrow fire. "Max" he groaned. I gotta help the little wee lad, he's not big and strong like me, they'll kill him. He took one step and collapsed, arms clawing weakly for his young sibling.

Orcs turn 5
The Spider riders fail to rally on a rerollable 9 they hit a fanatic, and lose 3, bouncing through the orc general's unit and landing infront of my doombulls' unit. I think that I have to wheel to face the savage orcs with my raiders since they are skirmishers, making them useless as redirectors, so when they charge, I flee and am run down. He hits my ungor horde, I Tthink it's a front he thinks it's a flank. I lose the 4+ dice roll. I get mauled.My doombull trashes his warboss, but the other orcs attacking him, can't wound him, I was cheering on his to wound rolls, so I don't get any ramhorn attacks. I lose combat by 11 and the few ungor left and my doombull break and flee, getting away by 3" Putting me on the other side of my herdstone, where I'd be safe.

Beastmen turn 5
I rally my ungors, He concedes.

One second, the arrows stopped and the next, green and steel were everywhere. Max sought out the Leader of the green skins, Who lept at the doombull attempting to strangle and throttle him with it's own bare hands. There are every few things a savage orc warboss can't strangle on the mortal plane. A frenzied doombull is one of those select few, even a stunted one like Max. He'd just begun to overpower the brute when steely arms wrapped over his own.
"Oy boss! I got em'. Give him the ole one-two!" The Warboss obliged. Swelling both Max's eyes with one punch and crunching his midsection with another. Pain flared through the Minotaur, whatever was broken in there had company now, and felt like it was poking something very vital. His head slumped and the warboss howled it's victory winding back for the haymaker. Max looked around slowly. The madmen were being slaughtered by the orcs who took great delight in snapping whatever arms legs and necks they could grab. He focused on a small pinpoint of light, that seemed to be swirling around in front of his blurred vision. "C-Candle-head?" He coughed.
"What'd you call me you stinkin git?" asked the warboss. He got his answer though, when the roaring madman leapt onto the back of the Orc champion holding Max. Although he had no hope of harming the massive beast, all three of them found out to their dismay that Orc warpaint was highly flammable.
The Orc, panicking climbed up Max's back. Max, panicking, grabbed at the flaming duo and tossed them at the warboss. The warboss, panicking, caught the living fireball before it hit his face, looked at Max triumphantly, then burst into a roaring inferno. Max picked up the smallest of the three victims, hoped he chose the right one, then stomped on the other two for good measure before he fled, what were left of the madmen straggled far behind him, as the fire spread among the frighted orc horde.
"We won didn't we master?" asked the charred body cradled in one massive arm
"I think so" Max growled. He was never good at last words or goodbyes. Or anything not linked to eating or fighting. "I doubt the goblins, have reason to stay with the warbos dea-" Max toot the time to actually look at the dying man and cut himself short. The candle works had partiality melted into the poor souls head looking like a grotesque mockery of the horns he'd tried to emulate. Eight points, a symbol all worshipers of the dark gods knew well, and somehow the wicks still glowed. The twisted head turned up at him, a pained smile on roasted lips, boiled white eyes shining.
"Even the Gods know our names."

Another lucky win, seeing as orcs can do what beastmen can but better and cheaper.