The Agelian Campaign: The Wars of the 21st Emperor's Saggitarrian Rifles

[Awilla the Hun]

First: an apology.

This evening, I went to my GW (High Wycombe, by the way) with the firm intention of playing a game involving Glorious Comrade von Stahl's Red Guards facing down the enemies of the Revolution once more. True, I have not as yet painted more men, but it is my firm intention to do so; as far as I know, I won't be getting that many new men for the new codex. And yes, I brought along the Imperial Guard just in case, and even some stuff to paint. However, I wanted to unleash the wave of propaganda, cold steel and hot fire arrows in another epic battle report.

However, this will not be the case tonight. I looked at the gaming tables of the store, and thought to myself:

Why not give the Guards a last hurrah? One more game before the codex arrives, and all is changed?

And besides, I don't like playing 700 point games.

So, I met with my habitual Grey Knights opponent, got to my habitual table (a Lord of the Rings one with marshes, crags, trees and a nice statue in the middle), and we got gaming. The mission was Annihilate, the deployment Spearhead.

----

Armies.

(Now, any match involving Daemonhunters may seem one sided, but I beg to differ in this case for reasons that will soon become clear.)

The Reconnissance Force of Inquisitor James

Inquisitor James (psychic powers, psycannon)

Brother Captain in Terminator Armour (and if he's a Termie sergeant in disguise, I apologise.)
Ten Grey Knight Terminators

Ten Grey Knights with Incinerator
Ten Grey Knights with Incinerator
(About) Ten Stormtroopers with Inquisitor accompanying them

-----

The 21st Emperor's Saggitarrian Rifles

Doctrines: Close Order Drill
Iron Discipline
Rough Riders

(Yes, it's that guard codex.)

Colonel His Grace the Duke Lawford ((only just made an aristo.)) Power fist, refractor field, storm bolter.
Company standard
Master vox= 146

Foot Artillery (Command Platoon): 3 lascannon = 110 pts
Mortar Battery= 80 pts


Major Sharpe: power sword, bolt pistol, honorifica imperialis

Grenade Launcher X2
Vox= 92

3 Squads: Grenade Launcher, Vox= 73 each (219.)

Lt Rostov: Power Sword, Bolter

Autocannon
Grenade Launcher
Vox= 74

2 Squads Missile, Grenade Launcher, Vox= 88 each (176.)

Dismounted Dragoons (once Armoured Fist, now part of Rostov's platoon): meltagun, vox=75

Total=972
And that's it.

Because I had to carry my Bretonnians, even my big carrying case struggled with two horde armies. The result was that I cut out all the tanks, and then all the horses (so no Horse Artillery.) I was also slightly out of practice with warhammer (I hadn't turned up to the shop for a couple of weeks), and was playing with the Imperial Guard, an army well known for its weakness with Kill Points. Nevertheless, the men prepared themselves.

More to come, but I don't want to delete anything!

[Awilla the Hun]

----

Praetan Evinco

Today is the anniversary of the defeat of the great tyrant, Governor Praetan of the Saggatarian System. The men were given the traditional double rations, and we endeavoured to imitate our saluting of the Cathedral Imperialis Dominatus as best we could; our mere Regimental Standard had to suffice. But, nevertheless, we still recalled with pride our desparate struggle, when Saggatarix V stood alone against a system of foes, and the extreme valour shown by our soldiers. Major Sharpe's Command Squad were eager to tell of their exploits, although I daresay that they were somewhat exaggerated; I failed to believe for one moment that even such a grim soldier as Major Sharpe could have personally defeated a Greater Daemon in single combat with his sword, although I admit that I could entirely comprehend where the missapprehension may arise. He is without a doubt one of the finest fighting soldiers I have ever had the honour of serving alongside, and taking him from that Veteran Hospital was one of the finest decisions I have ever made. It is a shame about poor Bolkonsky; he died well.

(I have taken the liberty of including a number of files relating to our previous campaigns, and our prior engagements with the brute Agelian. If you wish to be elucidated, pray click here http://warseer.com/forums/showthread...=173727&page=5 )

But, after some hours, we shouldered our arms once more, and returned to cold reality; for Ferosia is without a doubt one of the great hell holes of the galaxy. It is a rare world that gets muddy and dreary without months of trench warfare, but I have found it here.

By the Emperor, but how the wind blows. It is deeply unfortunate that it is also raining.

After two hours of march, we have once more pitched camp. We are still on schedule, and shall rendezvous with our mounted elements-our horsemen and tanks-in two days time. They have been sent on a reconnissance mission. As I write, I can swear that I can hear the thunder of guns in the distance. Let us hope that they have found their foe, and that they are doing their duty.

But wait.

Sergeant Dolokhov of the Dragoons is coming. Doubtless another of his petty complaints about demotion, and the Chimera getting stuck. I shall see to it, of course, and then doubtless wish that I still had Commissar Vortus at my side. Alas.

(The journal is cut off by the crackle of storm bolter fire, and the sound of a bugle blowing.)

---------

I won for deployment, and for table quarters. My table quarter was flanked by two handy piles of stones, and had generally good line of sight across the 4 by 4 foot battlefield. Two clumps of (roughly equidistant-about 18 inches apart)) trees were in the middle, with a statue in between them marking the very centre of the table. On the other side, my opponent had a more barren zone, with some ruins in it where he planted his storm troopers.

I also let him deploy first. His storm troopers and Inquisitor hunkered down in the ruins, and his squads formed up (from my left to my right) Grey Knights, Grey Knights, Terminators.

Then I deployed. With little other options, I crammed the deployment zone with guardsmen. The lascannons went on the right hand rock pile, with the mortars behind them, a green squad to their right and the Dragoons to their front. To the left of them went Sharpe's Command, with a Missile toting squad to their front, and a mass of green armoured infantry around them. Another red squad went on the left hand rock pile, and Rostov went just behind that, guns readied. Finally, His Grace the Duke Lawford went just behind them all, banner flapping in the night sky.

I tried to seize the initiative, failed, and the battle was on!

(More to come, but I don't want any accidents.)

[Awilla the Hun]

Turn 1

The Grey Knights commence a general advance, with a roar of "Burn, Heretic!" All squads walk forwards in a line, with the Terminators going around the right hand trees.

The Grey Knight storm boltery opens up, and casualties are light for now. The Lascannon Squad are destroyed in a volley from one Grey Knight Squad, and the Terminators kill five men in the squad standing in front of them in front of what had once been the lascannon battery.) The Duke muttered an elegant curse at having a sizeable amount of his precision anti power armour weapons swept away, before turning to see light casualties amongst the infantry from the rest of the storm bolters. (I can't remember exactly what. I think the missile squad on the left lost quite a bit.)

And with that came my turn. No units fled from the shooting. The battered green squad on my right flank withdrew, the Dragoons just to their left watching nervously.

"Prepare to fire!" His Grace barked through the Master Vox, readying his own Storm Bolter as he did so, whilst wishing for the new training of which so much had been said, but so little seen; something about firing lasguns in volleys, and suchlike. Well, he appreciated close order as well as any man, so that would have to suffice for now.

First came the great mortar battery. They blasted a great volley of shells at the Stormtroopers, killing several (two or three), and (most importantly) pinning them! The Inquisitor muttered about cowardice, but showed a remarkable skill at diving for cover himself. A Grey Knight from the squad to their left was also killed.

That, however, was a high point of the shooting. "Fire, you dogs, fire!" the Duke called, with Sharpe muttering under his breath, and Rostov looking somewhat folorn, as the gigantic volley of lasgun shots, frag grenades, and frag missiles directed at their enemies did hardly any damage (I think it was just one or two Grey Knights from the middle squad.) Muttering, Rostov ordered his own autocannon team to open up at the Terminators. The great gun spoke its growling, snarling voice, and one of the armoured giants staggered, and fell, a shell blasting through his armour, and a cheer being raised from the ranks.

And with that, the first turn ended.

Turn 2

The Grey Knights continued their advance (whilst looking somewhat scornfully at the Inquisitor lying beside them.)

More storm bolters were readied, and more shots were fired. Six of Dolokhov's Dragoons, including the Sergeant himself, were gunned down in one great volley. Another Green Squad also suffered heavy (most of their men, apart from one solitary Grenade Launcher trooper) casualties. ((I again must apologise for the lack of precision; but I do not have a great short term memory, and I didn't write any of this down.) And the left Red Squad suffered again, with only three men left alive now.

But still the line held, and not a man fled.

"Keep ranks! Close up! Mark your targets! Sustain fire!" Lawford said, his own storm bolter ablaze. The remenants of Dolokhov's Dragoons fixed bayonets and ran at the middle Grey Knight Squad, their meltagun ready; and more lasguns were brought to bear, and more frag grenades, missiles, and mortar bombs.

There was a brief silence for a moment as men squinted down wooden barrels, and rammed missiles into weapons. Then: "Fire!"

And, in exact unison, the men obeyed. With a great hail of lasfire, the entirety of the middle Grey Knight Squad were mown down, and another Terminator was killed. Inquisitor James, clambering to his feet, could only stare in disbelief, as his proud Grey Knights were swept away by the gunnery.

Lawford cheered.

And then the screaming began.

Turn 3

It was now the turn of the Grey Knights to start killing. They had advanced across open ground, under a constant volley of lasfire and frag shots, watching their comrades die to these scum of the galaxy who faced them, these mere humans, these pieces of vermin, and they had no desire to let their deaths go unavenged. For now they were closing with the Imperial Lines. Just one last push, and they would be through, into the ranks of men with their halberds raised.

Grimly, they marched on, with more shots. The Dragoons were wiped out by the Stormtroopers and Inquisitor. (More deaths to gunfire-I forget exactly what, but it was pretty severe. The left hand red squad was obliterated.)

The Guardsmen returned fire as best they could, but only one or two Grey Knights actually succumbed to the volleys (about five left.) Both the Squad and the Terminators were in fine condition (although a couple more Stormtroopers died, convincing the rest to flee, Inquisitor James leading them, shrapnel having chipped at his armour and ruining the beautiful paintwork.) But the halberds would now descend upon them.

"Prepare to recieve infantry!" the Duke ordered, and then made the sign of the Aquila.

----

Turn 4

The Grey Knights advanced six long paces. An incinerator was levelled, and fired. A Green Squad suffered two casualties, as did the red squad behind them; and Lawford himself flinched as his Master Vox Caster screamed his last, foul cry as he was hit. But that was all the shooting.

The Grey Knights swept into their foes. The Terminators on the right flank crashed into both the Mortar Squad and the remains of the green squad that had pecked at them for so long. With a roared challenge, their Brother Captain killed three guardsmen on his own, his Brothers joining in with relish. The infantry were wiped out, and the Mortars fled, before being ran down. The Terminators consolidated to behind the rocks, out of reach of the guns of the Guardsmen.

Rostov looked out at the Grey Knights bearing down on him, and then drew his sword. "Fix Bayonets, and Form Line! Closely, damn your eyes!" he said. His men hurried to obey, eyes wide with fear, the stink of blood and s%^t and terror in the air as the Knights charged at them.

The bayonets met them.

Both Rostov's Squad and the remains of the Green Squad, numbering eleven men in total, met the Grey Knights. An Autocannoneer was impaled as he scrabbled for his trench knife, and three Guardsmen were decapitated as the blades swung at them. But they fought hard, and true.

Rostov parried the massive halberd that swung at him, before sweeping his more wieldy power sword away and stabbing his enemy through the breastplate. His guardsmen followed his example; one Grey Knight was shot through the heart at point blank range from the Autocannon, even as he attempted to attack the other gunner. Another was tripped up by a brave soldier, and then set upon; the bayonets rammed into his throat, his elbows, anywhere where they could find purchase, and the lasguns behind them blazed, until the great figure finally ceased struggling.

The guardsmen lost combat, but the banner fluttered before them. The line held.
-----

"Now's your time, Major Sharpe! Now's your time, Sergeant Antonin! Up, men of Saggatarix! Up, guardsmen, and at them!"

(Actually, I just cried "CHARGE!" so loudly that my enemy asked me to stop, but never mind that now.)

And with that speech, the Duke himself raised his power fist and charged into battle, every man in his army (eight men of the last surviving red squad, Major Sharpe's command, the lone Grenade Launcher trooper, and the Duke's command squad) fitted bayonets, drew swords, chanted prayers, and charged the Grey Knights.

Thanks to his close order drill, Sharpe shouted a challenge, and lunged with the power sword; but he was parried by the Justicar, who turned and shot a guardsman from Sharpe's Command with his storm bolter. The Incinerator trooper snarled and crashed his gun butt down, caving in a man's skull. Sharp bayonets reached out, lasguns snapped in close quarters, and chainswords screeched as they glanced off power armour, but only the Incinerator trooper was killed.

"Stand aside, gentlemen," said the Duke (perhaps somewhat pointlessly, as the Justicar had just succeeded in throwing Sharpe aside bodily, and looked eager for more killing.) He adjusted his great coat, raised his power fist, and took a step forward. "There will be no fire in this contest," he said. "Just steel."

And with that, he ducked the halberd swing, stood up, and punched the Justicar in the face. The great armoured body swayed for a moment, and collapsed.

There was another brief silence, only broken by the cries of the wounded...

-----

Turn 5

Inquisitor James continued to withdraw himself from the fight (despite having rallied), and his stormtroopers followed-cowards to a man! (And kill points deniers, too.)

The guardsmen were still cheering when a volley of storm bolter shots rang out. The terminators had appeared from behind the rocks, and wished to avenge their dead. Sharpe was left standing with just a lone grenade launcher trooper left in his command squad.

Fire was returned as best as possible, as guardsmen desperately ran to firing positions and blasted out another volley. Only the men of the red squad, three of green squad, Sharpe and his grenade launcher trooper, another grenade launcher trooper, Rostov, his autocannon crewman, and his grenadier, and the Duke of Lawford's reduced command squad remained now. All now fought, blasting las shot, bolt and autocannon shell, and frag grenade and missile at the Terminators. Another one fell.

And with that, the Grey Knights withdrew into the night, their presence as mysterious as when they returned.

"Damn you, Agelian," the Duke muttered, before turning to his tired command, and ordering the medical tents to be set up.

-----

Kill Points: 2 IG, 5 Grey Knights. (Grey Knight victory! But about a draw in Victory Points terms.)

The last hurrah of the Imperial Guard, and what a hurrah! Carnage, blood, and my constant gaming partner to contend with. It proved my faith in masses of frag shots from everything being better than a few krak shots, even though it occasionally wavered in this game; I had some pretty poor rolls. And I could probably have deployed with far more finesse than I did (a mob readying their guns and praying, pretty much. But the deployment zone was very small.) That said, I think that, had my opponent closed the distance more quickly, he could have done far more damage (he is good at multiple assaults.)

I'm sorry for the many mistakes and innaccuracies that doubtless fill this report. But what do you think?

[Toe Cutter]

Well the battle itself was pretty basic. Proper set them up and knock them down stuff a la 4th edition rules. The battle report was most entertaining however. You made five turns of grey knights advancing slowly into a gunline sound like a very tense, nervy affair with plenty of character driven moments. The back story was pretty entertaining too.

Thumbs up. Thanks for the read.

[Awilla the Hun]

And, to me, it was a tense and nervy affair. The fact is, there were many turns when my guns refused to do anything apart from kill a couple of Grey Knights. I had no heavy anti power armour firepower, no Ordnance lobbing tanks or basilisks. Just a line of oh so vulnerable infantry that dwindled even as the enemy advanced towards it. And I knew full well what Grey Knights could do in close quarters to mere guardsmen...

[Droofus]

I think the Grey Knight player may have been overpointed... by a lot.

20 Grey Knights and 10 Grey Knight Terminators alone are over 1000 points...

[Awilla the Hun]

And I still spat out enough fire to get a draw! What does this show?

Anyway, he didn't exactly have much to support them with. Inquisitor James is probably shooting his stormtroopers even now...

[Lord of Nonsensical Crap]

Great battle report! We demand more!

[Awilla the Hun]

More will come, Load of Innaccurate Name! I will try to alternate between the Red Guards and the E.S.R (next week E.S.R, week after Red Guards; I will have finished them by them.) There will be more gunfire, more bayonets, more horses, more of general coolness; but now with a new codex.

For the Emperor!

[SevenSins]

fine stuff, although the empires finest (and GK are at least the best looking) shouldn't footslog into a gunline, even one made up of all infantry guard. Well written, and looking forward to more both Red Guard and ESR

[Awilla the Hun]

The Red Guards will march again, fear not!

But now for a light interlude.

---

Some New Arrivals;

Concerning the Entrance of More Soldiers into the Regiment, both expected and less so; a Hotel, and abilities of gaining entry; and an unwelcome announcement.

One of the finest things about running a regiment in which cavalry plays a major role is that the hotels of whatever world one is campaigning on suddenly become open to you.

A Valkyrie, say, is all very well and good for making swift arrivals, but only so many hotels have orinthropads atop their roofs, which means that one has to make the last few miles of one's journey on foot-an immensely tiresome process, I am sure you'll agree-and motor transport has a habit of getting stuck in traffic (or, with heavier vehicles, creating it.) Whereas the man on horseback has the immeasurable advantages of swiftness, of avoiding other vehicles with comparativ ease, and (it must be added) looking so much more imposing with his lance, armour and sabre than grubby tank leathers, a pasty complexion, and a mere pistol at his side.

It was after the taking of Voroshilograd, therefore, that I was extremely pleased to find that Denisov had fulfilled his role to perfection.

I dismounted form my own steed, stared around me for a moment at Voroshilo-Prime (the capital, which had once been such a great cultist stronghold before meeting with the Vestreyvast paratroops under Colonel Blucher, and my own fine platoons of foot and horse storming the outer trenches), and turned once more to behold the Hotel Imperial. A few hours ago, it had been held by Cultist troops. But, as every man had been taken to the front lines in a desperate attempt to hold off His Majesty's Forces (many becoming stopped en route by the Vestreyvastite troops), much of the inner city was left intact, and the Hotel Imperiale (or Hotel Saggatarique, as it had hastily been renamed) was running in something close to a normal manner.

The only difference was that the drinks were bein served for free in the bar. Denisov was there to greet me, a broad smile on his slightly moustached face. "Welcome to Victory, your Grace!" said he, raising his sacra in a toast. The barman, along with what appeared to be all the staff, were smiling extremely broadly at their liberation.

I nodded to Captain Denisov, and took another moment to stare around the place. Opulent, I thought. Exceptionally opulent. Gilt and mirrors everywhere. There were several plinths and markings on the walls where there had once been busks and portraits; I shuddered to think what had happened to those, for cultists take great delight in defiling such things. "I trust, Captain, that your losses were not great?"

Denisov shook his head, and gestured to the full squad of cavalrymen around him. "Lance Corporal Waleigh took a las shot in the chest, but his armour was quite wesilient enough for him. We then strung the rogue up as an example."

"Excellent."

"After using him for tent pegging practice, of course."

I nodded again, even more enthusiastically. It never ceases to amaze me how inventive a soldier can be in coming up with ways of hurting his enemies. "Very good. The Emperor smiles not upon his foes, but upon his followers. And what followers he has; you were not unduly harmed by the traitorous scum?"

This last comment was to the small army of various staff bustling around with mops, buckets, and books of scripture (which they riffled through, trying to find more inspiration.) Their manager shook his head sadly.

"It was a dark time," he said, looking sadly at his torn shirt. "Many died."

I made a sober expression. "But no one was tainted?"

The manager suddenly looked extremely sheepish, and his face reddened. "No one," he muttered. "No one."

I turned to my staff officers, who had just came in after stabling my horse and fetching some fodder. "Gentlemen," said I, loudly. "You have it on my authority to fire upon anyone unduly suspicious, is that understood? They are believed to be heretics."

They all nodded, grimly. Signal Officer Tindall's hand closed around the stock of his lasgun.

"No! No!" the manager said, flapping his hands desperately. "There are a few-"

"Your Grace," I said pointedly. No hotel manager wants guardsmen to shoot anyone who even looks remotely suspicious, and a city held for this long couldn't fail to have a few conversions, even if they were forced.

"I recall a few, your grace," he said.

"Then pray fetch them, sir. Signal Officer Tindall, get on the line to Commissar Vortus, and tell him to come here fast." If he could be dragged out of the brothels, that is. "There are a few matters which need his attention." Tindall nodded, and ran to the exit; his vox set had been left in the staff car.

"Now." I sat on one of the bar stools, and removed my great coat. "A glass of your finest, if you please." The barman nodded. "If I am to be found gibbering to myself, it is undoubtably this gentleman's fault."

The barman laughed nervously, and jumped to the drinks cabinet with a remarkable alacrity.

---

Over the next few hours, the regiment arrived. Vortus came first, red faced, plasma pistol drawn, and demanded the presence of the heretics; they came and, judging from the scorch marks found in the cellar, disposed of. Denisov greeted "Wostov" with a gleeful hug, followed by a steadier handshake (his lisp is an unfortunate infliction, but those who mock him-and there are many, believe you me-soon sober up when he draws his sabre and demands satisfaction.) His platoon, tired but gleeful, soon followed their officer into the bar, and were scarcely seen again all evening. Sharpe's Riflemen followed an hour later, sadly depleted, but marching under a captured cultist banner, burning even as the old tune was heard: "Through the warp and far away!" (They didn't look anything like as fine as Denisov's dashing horsemen; but few would after bayoneting one's way through an enemy entrenchment.) And, moments after that, our motorised column arrived, artillerymen in tow.

The finest moment about that, I suppose, was the arrival of the extraodinary form of Captain Tushin (who I had thought dead or hospitalised for some months after a shell impact.) He clambered out of the Thunder Child and waved down at us all. "Your Grace!" he cried. "It is a veritable pleasure, sir!"

I stared for a moment, and he understood me perfectly. "My compliments to the cogboys at Saint Asten's," he said, bionics humming. "I had to draw on the Terrentshire estates a fair bit for the capital, but it all got through in the end."

"Indeed so, Captain." For his legs were now of brass and wood, his right arm of steel, and his left-

"They knew that I was an artilleryman at heart," he said. "So I couldn't deny the offer they made. And I have a more conventional one also."

"Ah." His left arm was a gigantic brass howitzer. (Some regiments, I understand, have a so called "Master of Ordnance" to direct artillery fire; with this new development, I considered the introduction of one into our troops as entirely unneccessary.) ((He is my Master of Ordnance, by the way.))

"So," said he, clambering down as the armoured column generally dismounted and wondered towards the ever more crowded bar, "what news?"

The sky was now beginning to darken, and the city lights- military searchlights for now, until the tech priests figured out the power- were flickering on. I could just about hear lasfire in the distance. Heretical scum, I thought. "I regret that I am not entirely abrest of the situation," I said apologetically, offering my arm and guiding him into the hotel. (He was still not entirely sure on his feet, poor man.) "However, should Mister Tindall be sufficiently sober, he could easily provide us with an update."

"Ah, yes. Tindall's still going then? I thought he'd have copped it months ago!"

"Indeed. But I have hope for the lad." I raised my voice. "Mister Tindall!"

To my immense surprise, he was completely and utterly sober, with a straight uniform and every button and badge polished till it gleamed silver. His salute was perfect, and his vox set even more so.

"Our casualties have been light, only fourty men killed in total. The city is now completely under Imperial Control, save for the executions of heretics-that must be the lasfire we heard earlier, Your Grace-, and Lord General Quaio-Zhe intends to form a Council of War in two days time to plan our next move. He sends his compliments to you, Your Grace."

"And I shall send mine to him in return. Anything else, Mister Tindall?"

"Well, yes. Our requisitions at the motor pool are going to be red in a few weeks. The new pattern vehicles we requested shall be heading our way in a maximum of six months, according to Quartermaster General Fulorious."

"Excellent."

"And one more thing: a shuttle is headed for the landing pad a couple of streets away, requesting your presence."

"A shuttle?"

"An Inquisitorial Shuttle, Your Grace." This was said almost apologetically.

My blood ran cold. "Agelian?"

"I couldn't say, Your Grace."

I straightened, and called for my greatcoat to be fetched, and my staff to be gathered. "You shall observe the goings on here, Tushin. We shall deal with this... gentleman with all due dispatch."

Tushin saluted, and marched away.

-----

((More to come in this purely fluffy vein.))

[SevenSins]

excellent background interlude, you sir have some writing skill! (to bad the same can't always be said for my pupils.... )

[Awilla the Hun]

We were surprised to discover that we were not the first party of soldiers to be outside the landing pad a few streets away. We were even more surprised to discover the identity of these soldiers, who were here on behalf of Cadia, or Joura, or Krieg, or any other of those great martial worlds, but of the Saggitarrian Workers and Peasants Party.

"You are Comrade Colonel the Duke of Lawford?" their leader asked, the hammer and sabre flag fluttering in a sudden wind above their heads.

"I shall tell you my name, goodman, when you tell me-" I stopped, staring even more (a difficult feat for a man with a single organic eye to his face), when I recognised the face of Thaddeus Cluarch. "What in the name of the Emperor are you doing here?"

((It's a long story; I'm writing a novel (or two), and I had a sudden urge to (approximately) reproduce my characters in warhammer form. I don't think that they're so very poorly written, but never mind. In the novel, Cluarch leads a hapless regiment of conscripts (either penal legion or veterans-I wanted to give them some oomph) against all sorts of elven, magic using, and aristocratic villains trying to invade The People's Most Democratic Republic of Rakarskia, whilst under the watchful eye of Inquisitor Kazmarov, represented in game by a Commissar Lord.)))

The former leader of the Party nodded stiffly. "We are here, Comrade Colonel, on behalf of the workers and peasants of Saggatarix. It is our firm belief that if some of our number are to be seen fighting in the name of the Emperor, then we shall be recognised as a movement worthy of the attention of our masters." He stood, middle height and proud, thin moustache and rigid hair parting making him seem like nothing more than a bank manager in ill fitting uniform. "And you are the Duke, are you not?"

"A more pertinent question," said another voice, "is how this gentleman managed to obtain firearms"-I saw lasguns amongst the grey coated mob (for there was a veritable mob of them-at least ten, probably more), and something that looked like a Flamer- "on Saggatarix V despite such implements being limited to the propertied classes. But no matter." Another man stepped forward. "I am Inquisitor Kazmarov," he said.

And before any missapprehensions are caused, I must point out that Saggatarix V has its very own Inquisition, designed to keep scum like Cluarch from every getting urges beyond offering his life and soul to the Emperor. These men not only function as a secret police, but form a PDF Commissariat of sorts. I am told that they are heavily observed by the Imperial Inquisition, but that is another matter entirely.

"Yes." I offered my hand.

"My presence is apparently of great use to these... gentlemen, as well as to the wellbeing of Saggatarix V's Governor, long may he reign. Cluarch considers an Inquisitor of Saggatarix being here demonstrating that he isn't out to harm the Imperium with promises of a twelve hour working day and a six day working week. And I gather, Your Grace, that you should look to your Estates around Heidelbergen more often; your serfs appear to be getting riotious of late."

"Ah. I shall inform my Regent as soon as possible. His rogues shall deal with it." Trust an Inquisitor to have this sort of knowledge. He merely adjusted his greatcoat, and watched me from somewhere between his collar and the peak of his cap.

"Bloody aristos," I heard someone mutter; who, I do not know, and I never did need to find out, for there was the sudden sound of a fist smacking into flesh.

"I consider myself of greater lineage and worth than any man of yours, and I shall prove it if needs be," said a voice with which I had a terrible familiarity.

"Emperor's Teeth," I muttered, for it was that of Arbuthnot Lighter. ((Another character; gambler, soldier, steampunk inventor, lover, man of fashion and now aristocrat.))

"You owe me five hundred thousand credits, Your Grace," said he, elbowing his way through Cluarch's merry men and removing his tricorne. I recognised this gesture, even as he swept a hand through his blonde hair. He would soon throw it to the ground and call me out over the damned thing.

"Are you considering assaulting an officer of His Majesty's Imperial Guard?" I asked.

"Come come, sir, it is well known that you raised the 21st to escape my purse. Do you dare sully the honour of the Lawfords, Your Grace?"

I gave him my best sneer. "I have fought, My Lord Lighter, on many hundreds of the bloodiest battlefields, against many thousands of the most dreadful of foes. I have faced down the wrath of a renegade Inquisitor, and have fought hand in hand with his most dreadful minions." It was not worth mentioning that they were Grey Knights; the wily little bastard would of course use that against me. "I have seen Eldar Pirates tear a man asunder with their bare hands, and have not flinched."

"We all multiply our battles, Your Grace," said he. "And I shall add another one to my list unless you offer credit."

"You know damn well that I have nothing save for a few hundred thousand acres and the damned house! Do you dare duel me over such trifles?" Had I my power fist (with attached storm bolter, of course), I daresay that I would have shot him at that moment, were it not for a sudden humming noise.

Every man of use turned with a start. A servo skull was hovering right by us, pale and shocking in the dark, like the Nightbringer I had once glimpsed on Dantan VIII. More than a few lasguns jerked up amongst Cluarch's mob, and Lighter reached for his sword.

"The Inquisitor will see you now, sirs," it spoke in a hollow, mechanical voice. "Pray follow."

And with that, it turned, and buzzed into the inky darkness of an unlit building.

Triggering our luminators, we followed; myself feeling naked with just my laspistol, Cluarch's men stumbling along blindly (for they had seen the I, and had no desire to risk denying it), and Lighter striding forth.

Kazmarov, though, just smiled.

((More to come!))

[Awilla the Hun]

"What now then?" Tindall asked, his voice making everyone jump in the darkness. "Your Grace?" he added.

Our luminators flickered around once more, for the servo skull seemed to be moving no further. All we could see was darkness, punctuated by the occasional pool of white light. And all was slient, save for the small noises of men breathing in the blackness.

(Before I resume this, I must point out another misconception: a Guardsman does not use his lasgun as a luminator, nor his luminator as a lasgun. Both are entirely separate implements, and should be referred to as such.)

"You there," said I to the skull. "Is there anywhere further that you can lead us?"

Nothing. The machine simply hovered, dull red eye unblinking.

"Any further instructions?"

"Negative," it replied.

"Very well." I put one hand to the hilt of my laspistol, and continued to stare out into the luminator's beams. "Gentlemen. It would seem that we are to wait."

There was a brief silence. Then: "I won't have thought that we'd be meeting below ground, comrades."

"Below ground?" Colour Sergeant Hoxton turned to try and spot the speaker. "What is the meaning of this, fellow?"

"Let him speak," came the cool, quiet voice that I had recognised as that of Kazmarov. "Low born privates have saved high born officers before now, Sergeant. This ought to be remembered more often."

"Well," said the man (who turned out to have been one of Cluarch's Grey Coated rabble), "I worked in the promethium mines before being called up by Comrade Cluarch."

"Promethium mines?" I thought for a moment. "I have it! Were those on the Lawford estates?"

"Possibly, your Grace, but I don't recall the exact name." I could imagine the feet shuffling and hand reaching to forelock.

"Did I not once have a certain promethium miner expelled for counter Imperial rabble rousing?"

"Indeed, Your Grace," said Kazmarov. "But that is far from relevant to the matter in hand."

"Thanks," I heard someone muttering, and then continuing on; "Well, that lift we went on went downwards about fifty metres, and I was under the impression that shuttle pads are usually on top floors."

"And where is the exit to this room?" Lighter asked. His face looked pale in the luminator light, but I would not recon it to be of fear (for he had, to give credit where it is due, been a considerable soldier of fortune some years ago), but of face powder being applied.

Another silence.

"Right. Luminators ready, gentlemen, but on half strength; we wish to preserve power. Comrade Cluarch, how much have you trained your soldiers?" I spun on my booted heels, and looked down at him in my finest military manner.

"Target shooting, bayonetting sacks of straw." He adjusted his mousatche. "You don't think that there could be an ambush, Comrade Colonel?"

I can't die! I've only just got here, to do my bit and win glory! I had seen a thousand men like him, and I had seen a half thousand of such men die on the wire, or be eviscerated by Dark Eldar Wyches, or be flayed alive by Necron Flayers.

"We must be careful," I said. "In all likelihood, this damned machine hasn't had the consecrations done correctly. But we must be sure. Divide your men into four equally sized groups; Mister Tindall here shall take the first, Mister Hoxton the second, Mister Rafel-" our medic- "the third, and Mister Gort"-one of our veterans- "the fourth. They will conduct a sweep so as we can find our way back out again." Each group had a trained, veteran soldier, and each group had a man who knew of Agelian's plans against us. "Are you armed?"

"As long as I have a coat pocket, Comrade Colonel, I have a weapon." He pulled out a pair of duelling laspistols, and checked them with shaking hands.

A few months ago, I would have had no person with whom I would trust my life to a lesser extent than Thaddeus Cluarch, the political enemy of all aristocrats; save perhaps Arbuthnot Lighter, to whom I owed a vast sum of money, and I knew to have a habit of duelling all his debtors to the death. The thought of having both by my side was far from a reassuring one, especially as I saw Lighter producing an impossibly ornate autopistol-the sort unique to Saggatarix, that has multiple barrels instead of a magazine-and cocking it with every sign of professionalism. The Inquisitor did the same with a simlar weapon, although far larger-a bolt pistol, perhaps.

"We shall form a fifth group," said I, drawing my own laspistol. "Is everyone quite prepared?"

After about a minute, we were.

"Very well," I said. "To work!"

And, as the boots tramped on hard, stone floor, and lasguns poked into corners, someone laughed.

"You soldiers sure are predictable."

"Who said that?" I snapped, before, a moment later, realising that the voice was not male at all. "Cluarch, are there any women in your party?"

"None that I know of, Comrade Colonel."

"Very well." I turned, luminator beam dancing around the room. "Show yourself! We are armed, and I can call upon the firepower of a regiment in a moment's notice."

"Sure as Throne you cannot. This room's got jammers around it." Another long, echoing laugh.

My blood ran cold. If Agelian wanted to stop us, he had a perfect place in which to do so. And if anything Chaotic still dwelt here, it had a group of isolated victims.

And then the whole room rang with the sound of a shot.

Kazmarov's bolt pistol banged, clicked round, and banged again. "In the name of the Saggitarrian Inquisition," he cried, "I demand that you show yourself!"

I saw the tiniest flicker in the luminator light. The Inquisitor must have good eyes to see that, I thought, and then a whole volley of lasshots rang out, red beams slashing wildly through the room. "Keep the power low!" I ordered, readying my own laspistol. "I want it alive."

"Joke's over then," said the voice in a tone of serene confidence, and I heard a sudden, sharp crack.

"In the name of the Inquisition," a voice said, "I demand that you cease fire."

And then the lights came on.

((More to come!))

[Awilla the Hun]

No man who has found Drop Pods raining on his encampment and has lived to tell the tale can ever claim to have had an unpleasant surprise again. As a result, it was only a minor oddity to me that a lady in blue power armour was standing before us.

"Must I call you "Your Grace"?" she asked, her accent dramatically different to the voice that had so startled us earlier. "'Cos the boss tells us to be polite."

"You are an Inquisitor?" I asked, first to recover. Cluarch was looking somewhere between startled and relieved that a daemon wasn't about to eat him. Lighter had his eyes at first between her neck and her stomach. ((Well, in the novel, he's never been one to deny himself his pleasures, even if he doesn't openly state it; it's his memoirs, after all.))

And Kazmarov, as I expected, buried his head even further into the shadow of hat and collar, and (I imagine) smiled to himself.

((He does a lot of enigmatic things in his part in his novel. Well, he gets a proper Inquisitor hat there. I tried to give his model one, but I gave up after finding that I couldn't clipper it off the Witch Hunter Inquisitor.))

"Just an emmissary," she said, smoothing her head dress. "The boss likes a captive audience to his plans, with emphasis on captive." She shrugged apologetically, power armour whirring away. "Sister Vasileyva, Hospitalier to the Inquisitor."

((Note: I do not have a Witch Hunter Codex, so the many fluff errors are all mine. I got the pack for the hat, but will probably get the Codex anyway. No IG Army can do without an Inquisitor somewhere. No, that's not right. I can't do without a model with a Sugar Loaf Hat.))

"Your servant, Ma'm," I replied, bowing. Lighter did the same a moment later, rather hastily, in an exceptionally gallant manner.

"Literally, of course."

"Indeed." I straightened. "May I have the honour to present-"

"Signals Officer Tindall, Colour Sergeant Hoxton, Lieutenant Gort, Surgeon Rafel, Saggitarrian Inquisitor Kazmarov-"

Kazmarov nodded, perhaps considering a kindred spirit in the department of disturbingly encyclopedic knowledge.

-"Lord Arbuthnot Lighter, Comrade Major Thaddeus Cluarch, and that's where my data ran out." Another apologetic shrug. "The boss likes to keep us informed."

"The 'Boss' is not, I suppose, to grace us with a visit of his own?" I asked.

"Nope." And that was that. No explanation. Just a held up rosette as proof.

"Is the Boss to honour us with his name?"

"Why would it be a 'he'?"

"But surely," said Arbuthnot Lighter, in one of his many well affected tones, "you know the gender of the Inquisitor?"

"Nope." And, again, that was that. "Personally," Sister Vasilyevna added, "I think it could be a she. But It just chills around in a hooded cloak all the time, and none of us dares ask. Sure isn't that freak Agelian though."

"Ah."

"Could you put the metalware away, by the way? Or woodwork, in your case?" She nodded towards our (mostly wooden) guns, which were still unwaveringly pointed in her direction. "One of them boys there might get nervous."

Cluarch looked as if he was about to say something, but stopped himself. We lowered our weapons, some slower than others to do so.

"Oh-kay. So, to business." I had never seen anyone in power armour trying to rub their hands assertively, but I would advise my readers not to try to do so, for it will only ever make the most abominable screeching noise. "I don't usually wear this strait-coat," she said, "but the Boss doesn't like henchmen dying from stray lasbolts from hick town miners." She smiled at the increasingly obvious displeasure on Cluarch's face. "Anyway, here's what happened just now. Little Sanguinius here-" she poked the skull fondly- "led you all down here, and stopped. Then I got teleported in. The Boss got a Captive Audience, and you'll get to hear of the plans. Simple."

"Which are?" Kazmarov asked pointedly.

"Getting there, Inquisi-junior."

"I, by the authority of the Holy Governor of Saggatarix V, long may he reign, command you to hasten this activity." ((In the novel, he also provides a lot of the black humour. Another digression, but still.))

It was my turn to hide a smile. It would be interesting to watch how those two got on, both minor Inquisitors in their own way.

"Sure thing, 'Boss'." She tried to do make a strange gesture which, in power armour, failed. "Shall we get outta here first? I don't like crawling through cellars."

"Only after you give us an explanation," said I.

"Right." She took a breath. "The High Lords have got to Agelian, Emperor knows how." She made the sign of the Aquila reflexively.

"Took them long enough," Tindall whispered. I nodded, and turned back to Vasilyevna.

"The sent the Boss in to track him down, and our plan is this. I'll be blunt: we'll use your men as bait. March around somewhere isolated, and watch the drop pods fall."

I flinched rexlexively.

"Then the Boss'll send in everything we can scrape together and wipe Agelian out once and for all. I've heard worse and, who knows, maybe a couplea companies with black fatigues will be left standing."

There was a brief silence.

"How dare you?" Lighter spat.

"Regiments, even of the 21st's calibre, are everywhere. Rogue Inquisitors aren't."

"Sending one thousand good men to their deaths for one Inquisitor?"

"Welcome to the Imperium, Lighter. You oughta picked this up by now: 'Die for the Emperor' means, at best, get your head cut off whilst defending a Basilica in a Glorious Last Stand. At least it's clean."

"I have known war, Sister," he said coldly.

"You will be accompanying us, Your Lordship," I added to Lighter.

"I will?" He blinked.

"Why, of course. I cannot presume that you came here just to reclaim an old gambling debt, when Cluarch has taken all the time and effort to get across the galaxy to join his brothers in arms. Besides, you are such an expert on military matters, and have even brought your gun with you." I smiled. Something to brighten my evening up, at least.

"Great!" Vasilyevna tried to rub her hands again. "One more lasgun to the ranks." There was almost an apologetic look in her eyes, but it swiftly vanished. "I'll be accompanying your men, Colonel. Liason, as you'd say."

"Very well. Sister, can you heal? If so, Surgeon Rafel would be glad to have your services." And, more to the point, keep her by my command squad where I could keep an eye on her. That's the best method of dealing with the Inquisition, I've always found, or else they start finding "heretics seeing visions" when they've been drinking too much anti freeze, and that does get a trifle awkward.

She nodded.

And led us back to the hotel.

------

Infantry drill began the next day, and I confess to being much impressed by the latest Tactica Imperium instructions: volley fire, in particular, has been much refined of late. But the mood amongst our officers was sour. Even Major Sharpe, always the first man to discover women on campaigns that were attracted to his rough charm, soon darkened when he discovered the exact reason for her presence. We didn't tell the ranks, either.

Five days later, we were on a troop ship. Two weeks after that, we marched again, this time to Perlion Gamma.

[Awilla the Hun]

First, another apology. This week's Battle Report really isn't worth going into much detail about, because A) it didn't last very long (we only got fifty minutes), B) it involved the same Grey Knight opponent as last time, and C) it involved much the same tactics as last time, only with me throwing more firepower about (volley fire from a giant green platoon, Captain Tushin's arm mounted howitzer, and lots of heavy weapons) and having less success.

So, armies:

-Grey Knights same as last time.

-ESR same, but with Dolokhov's Dragoons in their chimera (and replaced by Thaddeus Cluarch; I loved the paintscheme, and they had all the right weapons), Captain Tushin, a Master of Ordnance, and Denisov's Lancers.

I get first turn. A fairly clear battlefield. Deploy in a line, with Sharpe's Rifles forming a line of one rank in front of everyone else.

First turn, only Tushin is in range of the hordes. He fires, misses.

Grey Knights advance. Following a pattern that will continue, they blast away at Sharpe's Rifles, who get down and suffer a lot.

Second turn. Sharpe's Rifles get up, and commence volley fire at the storm troopers, killing all but two. Rest of shooting is inneffective (shrouding was disturbingly effective.)

Grey Knights kill more Rifles. Lascannon squad is hit hard, loses all but one gunner.

Third Turn. Rifles have to run back into coherency, thus denying me more volley fire. More shots are fired, with little effect.

Game Ends. It was dull. Too dull for His Grace to bother to record it.

However, the previous game of the Grey Knights was far more eventful, so I will say a little about that instead.

1500 points meant an Inquisitor Lord with lots of gun toting assistants, an Orbital Strike, and maybe something else too. Anyway, it was the one with one objective per deployment zone, and deployment was Dawn of War.

Presumably, this is when Agelian's minions had to keep up a pretence of being loyal to the Emperor, for they fought magnificently.

Yes, the enemy was an Eldar Army with a big squad of Wraithguards as troops providing a meatshield, and Eldrad Ulthran leading a large quantity of Warlocks into battle. (Along with some Storm Guardians, Guardians with a starcannon, Vibro Cannon, Striking Scorpions, and some Fire Dragons.)

Anyhow, the game begins. First turn, Striking Scorpions infiltrate, but meet a messy end between a weakened Grey Knights Squad (from shooting), and a big Grey Knights squad with Inquisitor James (who is killed by their Exarch's power fist.) On the left, they generally advance towards an Eldar held objective.

On the centre, the Wraithguards stomp forth, Eldrad cowering behind them as the prayers of his enemies fell silent, and their guns were loaded. A squad of Grey Knights walks into their path with (unknown to them) the famous "Blue Grey Knight" Terminators, led by a Grand Master. The Inquisitor Lord ((Agelian, as I like to think he is)) watches impassively, his Gun Servitors taking pot shots at them, and the Storm Troopers hold the objective.)

Grey Knights in the centre charge the Wraithguards, kill three, but lose combat. They then get Counter Charged by Eldrad, and get their faces stamped on. Horribly.

At this point, I turned to the Grey Knights player. My thoughts were that he'd lost this one. Hideously. The much vaunted Eldrad/Seer Council combination was on the march, and he was doomed. For a moment, I had seen hope in his Incinerators stopping their invulnerable saves from ever working, but he never fired such a weapon at them. Yes, his left flank was going pretty well (despite a comically inneffective Lance Strike.) But he would lose. Obviously.

It was thus with great surprise that I watched him charge his Grey Knight Terminators into the depleted Wraithguards. "They're tougher," he said.

Damn right they were, for they managed to stomp straight through the Wraithguards without losing a man. They then take a few steps back and make ready to receive the Seer Council.

"Come get a taste, Mother f-)(*&r," I like to think the Grand Master said.

First, they try to Doom them. This is dispelled by the Aegis. They try to repeatedly Mind War the Grand Master over several turns, but this doesn't work. Then they try to Destructor the Terminators, but this fails. Trusting in their Fortune, they charge in.

Over the next few rounds, a massive brawl ensues, which ends about four rounds later with just the Grand Master standing, surrounded by several Warlocks and Eldrad.

He shrugs, casts Hammerhand, and goes for it.

The Eldar player recieves a couple of wounds, decides nochalantly to take them on Eldrad's 3+ invulnerable. He fails, then re rolls.

The Grand Master, roaring his defiance, picked up Eldrad, showed him that he's a dick according to 4 Chan, broke his spine over his knee, and then ate him. Or something like that.

At this point, I believe the Eldar player may have said a bad word.

An outraged squad of fire dragons march towards them, and get mown down by the Inquisitor Lord's Servitors. Over the next few turns, the Grand Master beats the hell out of the Warlocks, and they run away. Perhaps tired, he runs after them, gets recharged, and unleashes hell.

The Grey Knights player almost won. Almost. Were it not for his Grey Knights being held up for one turn too long, and were it not for his stormtroopers legging it from their objective, they would have kicked the crud out of the Eldar. As it was, it looked an extremely hollow draw for the (mostly unbeaten) Eldar player.

As a spectator said, "He pwned you." With so called "underpowered" Grey Knights. Against the ludicrously powerful engine of death that is Eldrad Ulthran.

Later, I showed this same spectator Sly Marbo in the new IG Codex. (He just happened to be the Tzeentch Player from the Red Guard series.) He stared, looked up the Hit and Run rule, backed away slowly, and said that he was "broken".

(Here he is http://warseer.com/forums/showthread.php?t=191378 )

Cheshire Cat doesn't even describe the result that was on my face.

On Saturday, an Infantry Company of the ESR will be marching to apocalypse. And there shall be a lot about the Red Guards next Thursday.

[Awilla the Hun]

The Battle of Perlion Gamma: An Apocalypse Game

((Force organisation was bring 500 points or an apocalypse formation. I chose the latter, thankfully.))

Forces of Order:

Infantry Company of the Emperor's Saggitarrian Rifles, consisting of

Emperor’s Fist Infantry Company (150 plus models.)

Colonel the Duke Lawford Power fist, refractor field, bolter.
Regimental standard
Master of Ordnance (Captain Tushin)
2 Bodyguards (Cluarch and Kazmarov)
Medic (Kerensky)
Astropath (Tyhaldis)
Master of the Fleet (Brigglesworth)
Vox (Tindall)= 252

Green Platoon

Platoon Command Squad:

Major Sharpe-power sword, bolt pistol, 2 grenade launchers, vox= 57

Squad 1-Grenade Launcher, power weapon =65
Squad 2-Grenade Launcher, power weapon, bolt pistol =67
Squad 3-Grenade Launcher, Vox, power weapon, Commissar (Plasma pistol and power sword) =125


Red Platoon

Captain Rostov-Power Sword, Bolter, Autocannon, Vox, Grenade Launcher= 62

Squad 1-Grenade Launcher, Missile Launcher, Vox =75
Squad 2-Grenade Launcher, Missile Launcher, Vox=75
Squad 3-Heavy Bolter, Vox= 65

Horse Artillery (3 lascannons)= 105
Foot Artillery (3 lascannons)= 105
Howtizer Battery (3 Moratrs)= 60

Blue Platoon

Captain Mainwaring- Bolter, Power Sword, Vox, Flamer, Flamer, Grenade Launcher= 62

Squad 1-Plasma Gun, Vox= 70
Squad 2-Plasma Gun, Vox= 70
Squad 3-Grenade Launcher, Vox= 60

Dragoons

Meltagun, Vox= 65

Chimera=55

Special Weapons Squad

Squad 1-3 Flamers= 50

Total= 1695

With Defence Lines, Scheduled Bombardment, On My Coordinates!

Daemonslayer, a Hellhammer with Hunter Killer Missile under the command of Tank Commander Ben (my little brother!)

Dark Angels Contingent: Vindicator, 5 Assault Terminators, Dreadnought, Attack Bike

Aspect Assault Wave in 5 Wave Serpents under our Team Captain

Support from the Cadian Foot (plasma toting special weapons squad, Basilisk, 20 man platoon, Command Squad)

Support from the Perlion Gamma PDF: Basilisk, infantry squad, 2 Heavy Bolter Squads, Valkyrie

White and Blue Space Marines Contingent: Dreadnought, Predator, Whirlwind, Land Raider, Terminators, Tactical Squad

Eldar Contingent: Farseer, Dire Avengers, Vypers

Baneblade

(Assets: Precision Strike, Scheduled Bombardment, Disruption Beacon (me), others that I can't remember. There may also be innaccuracies in unit dispositions, because I have a limited memory and photographic evidence.)

-------

Forces of Disorder

DOOMSDAY DEVICE!!!!!!!

Stompa

Big squad of Genestealers with Broodlord

20 Khorne Bezerkers led by Chaos Lord

INQUISITOR AGELIAN (designated as such by me, not by the enemy) and his Stormtroopers

Waagh! Minimalist: Killer Kan, 3 Deth Koptas,

Bloodthirster, leading ten bloodletters

90 Chaos Terminators (yes, 90.)

(Assets: Orbital Bombardment, some others.)

-----------

((I apologise for the imprecision of the assets, but I didn't know better.))

This appears imbalanced in the Imperial Favour, but it didn't feel like that to us, with the sheer destructive capacity of the Doomsday Device helping the enemy.

Terrain was a largely urban western flank, with an objective in the midst of some buildings. In the middle was a few buildings, in which I made my redoubt of defence lines, which overlooked a largely clear field of fire (and a nearby objective.) Slightly to the right (and to the opposite) was a landing pad, on which the Doomsday device was placed, and an objective positioned. Apart from some hills further to the right, the terrain was largely clear here too.

I'll put this down before I delete it or anything stupid happens.

[Awilla the Hun]

Deployment: we bid four minutes in a desparate bid to get first. The disorder commanders, however, bid just one minute. They also gave us jammers.

They were able to put their Stompa on the landing pad, defending the doomsday device. Behind it lurked the Genestealers. Then time ran out.

Our forces were then deployed. A grand armoured column headed by the Wave Serpents formed up in the centre of the table, ready to sweep forth. The White Space Marines formed slightly to their left, as did the Dragoons (covering the left hand objective), a red infantry squad, and a couple of Cadian Squads. The redoubt was filled with my own heavy weapons: Horse Artillery on the right, Foot Artillery on the left, Howitzers on the left, Stanhope and the Heavy Bolter Squads in a building on the right, and the Duke Lawford's Command taking up the central position. To the right of this came Major Sharpe's Command, his platoon sadly not having enough time to come on, looking suspiciously at the Dire Avengers and Farseer deployed alongside him. The Dark Angels deployed along with the Eldar Armoured Column. Both Baneblades were deployed just outside the Urbanised Western Flank, looking towards the Stompa's position above the Doomsday device.

With no more time, the game began. The forces of Disorder came first.

--------

"Gentlemen." I stared out over the battlefield. "Your opinion on our dispositions?"

"They seem sound," said Cluarch, trying his best to sound professional. "Sound enough, Comrade Colonel."

"Decent," said Kazmarov. "Our great guns are well emplaced."

"Very well. Our platoons?"

"Held up, Your Grace. Major Sharpe informs me that he's making his way over as quickly as possible, as does Captain Mainwaring along with some of Cluarch's men."

"Very well. And those... scum to our front?" I made a disdainful gesture towards the xenos skimmers preparing to attack.

"I have them covered, your Grace," said Captain Tushin, patting his new arm.

"Indeed. I have been in direct conference with our fellow Guard officers, and the Perlion PDF, and they seem sound enough. The Astartes are ready to give their lives for this world, of course." I looked up for a moment at the gigantic Ork Machine atop the landing pad, so close to us. ((About 48 inches, actually.)) "Captain Tushin, are your guns readied?"

"They are, your grace." He nodded towards the lascannons, and the emplaced mortars. "And Stanhope says he has that monstrosity covered, as well."

"Stanhope." I thought for a moment. "Ah. Rostov's down with a fever, is he not? Very well. Dolokhov is prepared?"

"Insamuch as ever he can be." Dolokhov was never one of my best soldiers, always bad tempered. And, inevitably, his pessimism was proved correct.

"Indeed." I looked towards the Astropath, and then to Brigglesworth. "Your... associates are active?"

Both men nodded.

"Very well." I was just about to make a speech, all dramatic and full of fire and brimstone, when a sudden rattling roar of shots rang out.

The battle for Perlion Gamma had began.

[Awilla the Hun]

Movement amongst the Forces of Disorder was simple. The Stompa stayed still to rain fire down upon the mass of troops around it, whilst the Genestealers made their first, hissing dash forth, to just behind the Stompa.

Then came shooting. ((First, I had to buy apocalypse templates, because no one had bought them! One of them-the barrage template- broke as it was wrenched out of the ridiculous packaging, so the shooting phase had to be postponed.))The Stompa opened fire, killing three of Stanhope's command despite their building protection, before turning its fire on the Horse Artillery to the left-only to jam, as the crude Ork Weapon ground to a halt for all game! However, their Defence Lines kept them safe from harm. The giant Death Kannon also spoke, just once, and smashed into its target: right on top of the Duke's Command Squad. Cluarch and Kazmarov were blown away instantly, as was a lascannon from the Foot Artillery.

The Duke turned, gasping at the deaths of his comrades-only to hear a strange crackle. With an insane cackle that was audiable to all ((even the players)), the Doomsday Device was triggered. Happily, the coruscating arcs of lightning ((3 Apocalypse barrages this time)) did little to the Forces of Order, blasting off the Baneblade's main gun.

The Forces of Order lost no time in taking advantage of the apparent lack of evil troops to oppose them. Major Sharpe led his men forward, the Dire Avengers and Farseer following in their Wave Serpent, all too conscious that the Genestealers were bearing down on him. He glanced up at a strange humming; the Vypers swept overheard, bearing down on the Objective by the landing pad. This was mirrored in the centre, as Wave Serpents flew towards the landing pad themselves, Aspect Warriors ready to capture it for the Craftworld. A mass of troops followed more slowly, leaving the Banelbades, the Dragoons (and infantry squad), a squad of the Perlion PDF, the Cadian Platoon, and the White and Blue Marines guarding the quiet Western Flank. ((I forgot: there was another Guard Infantry Squad, from either the Cadians or the PDF in reserve.))

All was quiet for a moment, save for the hum of grav drives, the tramp of boots, and the grinding of tracks. Then the Duke picked himself up, dusted his greatcoat down, turned to Tindall, and said the word:

"Fire!"

And, with great enthusiasm, the army obeyed.

Stanhope's Autocannon blew a Genestealer away, as did Sharpe's Grenade Launchers. The Lascannon batteries, helped by the "Bring it Down!" Orders, shot a volley at the Stompa, but failed to hurt the great steel beast. Tushin's gun fired, but the shell fell wide. Tushin's Mortars, however, made up for this somewhat, as they rained shells on the Genestealers, killing several. The Broodlord hissed angrily, but could only watch in despair as more shots blasted up at it.

The Stompa, however, took the brunt of the Order shooting. Bright Lances slached out from the Wave Serpents, and guns blazed up at it. By the end of the phase, it had lost its Death Cannon (deriving it of all firepower now!), and losing half its movement. The Dark Angels commander voxed the Duke to inform him that their Battle Barge had its guns locked on the landing pad. His Grace replied that he had ordered a battery of artillery to fire at the same place. ((Actually, we told each other in enthusiastic tones.))

------

Turn 2

With a Waaaagh! the Ork contingent rushed to the aid of their Stompa (the Disruptor beacon preventing them from deploying where they had intended: in the Imperial Redoubt.) More sinisterly, Inquisitor Agelian, resplendant in his golden armour, arrived to claim the objective by the landing pad in a flash of teleportation, guarded by a squad of crack Storm Troopers. A mass of Khorne Bezerkers tried the same trick, but were also denied; they ended up safe on the North East, far away from any action. Or so it was thought. The Genestealers continued their rush forwards, bearing down on the Attack Bike and nearby Wave Serpent.

Another volley crashed out from Disorder, somewhat muted by the lack of weaponry at their disposal; only the Doomsday device could fire. To make up, it wreaked havoc, incinerating Stanhope's squad, the Heavy Bolter squad below it, and the entire building that they were standing in. The mortars also lost two guns, leaving a solitary piece (much to Tushin's consternation) still ready to fire.

With a mighty hiss, the Genestealers and Broodlord crashed into the Wave Serpent ((not the Attack Bike adjacent to it, much to the Dark Angel Commander's Relief.)) The vehicle was torn out of the sky and exploded, killing one more Genestealer, the Dire Avenger Exarch, and a Dire Avenger. They passed their pinning test, however.

With a cheer, the Green Platoon charged onto the board, formed into well ordered firing lines. Sharpe turned, brandished his sword, and began to move towards the landing pad objective, eyes fixed on Agelian. "Traitor!" he cried. "Traitorous scum!" Vox Officer Hagman muttered the urgent news to the Duke. (More reserves arrived, and the Aspect Assault force dismounted and their Wave Serpents swept towards the landing pad, as the Dark Angel Assault Terminators planted their banner firmly atop the Doomsday device. A Valkyrie full of storm troopers arrived behind Agelian's men, too.)

"Tindall!" he snapped. "The heretic has landed. Have we any assets capable of reaching him?"

Tindall muttered that the Perlion PDF had a Basilisk capable of targeting them, despite the Landing Pad in the way.

"Then pray present my compliments to their commander, and communicate the need of placing a shell on these co ordinates." His Grace scribbled down a note, and handed it to Tindall, who nodded, and passed the message on.

The Order guns spoke again, this time with immense vigour. A shell from the Perlion PDF Basilisk landed right on Agelian's band, just as a brace of Frag Grenades from Sharpe's Command Squad reached it. Sharpe, doubtless annoyed at being denied his prey, could only watch as they were blasted to pieces by the shell. (The renegade Inquisitor, it must be observed, was not found, and neither was his body.) Naval gunnery rained down upon the Stompa, wounding the beast further.

More guns blazed. The lascannons fired once more at the Stompa, and once more it resisted their efforts, along with Tushin's shell. But the Eldar bright lances were not to be denied. With a distinctive shriek, the energy weapons mounted on the Wave Serpents fired. The Stompa seemed to stagger as it was hit. For a moment, it seemed that it was intact; but suddenly, a great chain reaction ripped through it, blasting it, and the entire Ork Army behind it, to ashes.

"Platoon! Halt!" Commissar Vortus, leading the Green Platoon, saluted his sabre at the Dire Avengers, and turned to his men. "These xenos scum, soldiers, have requested our aid; and we are to provide it to them. Present arms!" A long line of lasguns were raised to shoulders. All was quiet, as the Dire Avengers readied their Shruiken Catapaults, and the Attack Bike's heavy bolter was turned on its pintle.

"Fire by Ranks!" The Commissar swept his sabre down, and the entire platoon poured their short ranged volley into the Genestealers, the Dire Avengers and Attack Bike joining in moments later. The tyranids were hurled back by the sudden hail of shots which pounded them. Only the Broodlord still stood, dripping ichor. It hissed, and stumbled forward for a last, final attack, claws raised-

A sergeant drew his bolt pistol, fired, and the beast was no more.

With a cheer, the Forces of Order charged, for their enemy was no more! Save for a rabble of Bezerkers in the corner, they were utterly vanquished!

((At the moment, all is well! Only twenty Khorne Bezerkers and a Captured Doomsday device are left to oppose the invincible armies of the Emperor of Mankind, and the Eldar Craftworlds! Long live the Emperor of Mankind!))

And then the sky darkened.

Turn 3

Drop Pods ((not real pods, but never mind)) rained down on the Western Flank. The Disruption Beacon did its best, but could do little to prevent the phalanx of over Ninety Chaos Terminators crashing into the city, dangerously close to an objective, supported by a host of Bloodletters and a mighty Bloodthirster. Dolokhov gulped, and then ordered his men to get down. A Blue and White Tactical Squad was suddenly surrounded by Terminators, doubtless pleased to have a chance at slaughtering their loyal cousins.

Worse still, the Doomsday device activated in the shooting phase, killing the Dark Angels guarding it, before melting a squad of PDF Infantry (and their building ) on the Western Flank. The Terminators obliterated the Dragoons, the Chimera falling to a combi melta, and the Tactical Marines suffered a similar fate. Tindall, grim faced, read out an ever increasing list of combat statistics to the Duke, who only nodded.

"Mainwaring," he muttered into his microbead. "Are your men ready?"

"We are, your Grace." The Duke looked sadly over to Cluarch's dying, crimson covered body. "I pray that his are," he muttered.

"Send them in. Every man to the Western Flank! Every reserve! Mainwaring, now's your time." He gritted his teeth as he said it, for flanking the Terminators was tantamount to a death sentence. But they had to buy time.

"Yes, Your Grace." He could imagine Mainwaring voxing his orders to his troops, and for a moment considered ordering them back. But the die was cast now. There was no turning back. "Tank Commander Ben! Your Hellhammer is in position?"

"Yes, sir! The gunners are waiting at my command."

"Then pray use them, sir."

The Imperial Turn began with a frantic confusion of orders, as the army struggled to decide what to do. Sharpe's men advanced towards the objective by the landing pad, only to find that the Eldar Aspect Warrior Wave were withdrawing from it, hurtling towards the Western Flank as quickly as possible. Two red armoured squads belatedly arrived in the redoubt, and were ordered onto the objective in the centre, only to discover a squad of Cadians already standing there, along with some Dire Avengers. Troops were ordered forth to the Doomsday device to try and retake it, but none came. The guns in the redoubt moved as quickly as possible to firing positions where death could be brought to the Terminators. And troops flooded towards the Terminator horde on the left.

Including Mainwaring's entire Blue Platoon and the Special Weapons Squad, who marched in on the South Western Corner, bravely facing off against a mass of armour and daemons, lasguns readied.

Shooting was now desparate. The entirety of Blue Platoon and Special Weapons Squads poured fire, including a massed lasgun volley, into the Terminators facing them, but only killed a handful (two or three.) Tushin's gun spoke, killing another. The Hellhammer killed another two, and more guns fired-but despite sheer weight of fire, only a total of eight Terminators fell dead.

Mainwaring gulped, and ordered bayonets to be fixed, as a Dreanought crashed into a Terminator Squad ((I forgot about that)) and held them off.

Turn 4

Now chaos reigned on the battlefield. Daemons and terminators surged forward, trying to hurl the Forces of Order back before they could summon sufficient reinforcements to kill them, in one grand, sweeping charge. Daemons and Terminators marched towards blue platoon, whilst another big squad seized the objective. Three main thrusts were made: to the North West, where a mass bore down on Cadians and Blue and White Marines; to the centre West, where the objective was held, and to the South West, where the Blue Platoon faced their foes.

Shooting came, and was fairly light. Three of the red armoured infantrymen facing the objective were killed by combi bolter fire. The entirety of first the Special Weapons squad, then Mainwaring's Command Squad, were mown down by shooting, and heavy casualties were inflicted to the North also. The Doomsday Device inflicted light casualties again-almost as if it was building up to something...

With an enraged howl, the Bloodletters and Bloodthirster crashed into the remains of Blue Platoon, and slaughtered their way straight through it, losing only two of their number to desparate bayonet lunges. They rampaged on, looking for more slaughter to inflict. The Dreadnought was charged by power fist wielding Terminators, and this time it was destroyed.

The Imperial Counter attack, however, had began.

Wave Serpents flew straight in, Aspect Warriors (Avengers and a squad of Fire Dragons) jumping elegantly out to assist the Mon Keigh in their battle. The battery of Horse Artillery limbered up, just as the Foot Lascannons were prepared for firing. To the east, the Green Platoon continued to advance towards the objective, readying their weapons to fire upon the rapidly closing Bezerkers.

The shooting phase was opened with a pair of well placed shots from the lascannon battery wounding the Bloodthirster The Baneblade, with its repaired gun, fired into the mass of Terminators, as did the Hellhammer, massed Bladestorms from the Dire Avengers, and even a Scheduled Bombardment from the Battle Barge of the Dark Angels. Tushin fired his gun, but missed. Volleys of bolter fire shook the Terminators too. The small guns of the Hellhammer (a lascannon and two heavy bolters) were turned on the Daemons, wounding the Bloodthirster twice more. The Terminators were also entirely blasted off the objective, with Aspect Warriors preparing to move in for the kill. To the East, a few Grenade Launchers were fired at long range at the Bezerkers, killing one of them. The Valkyire, which had flew to the west, fired at the Bloodletters, killing three of them.

Turn 5

The Bloodthirster took off as it sped towards the Hellhammer, axe raised; whilst the Bloodletters ran towards a hapless squad of Dire Avengers, hellblades raised menacingly. The Terminators generally continued to advance, weapons blazing and axes raised.

The doomsday device fired at the Baneblade, but did little to halt the giant war engine.

The assault phase came, and was bloody indeed. The Terimnators charged various aspect warrior squads and the Cadian platoon, and slaughtered them. A single Exarch managed to hold up the Bloodletters who had butchered his squad, his elegant swordsmanship put against brutal butchery. But, most spectacular of all, the Bloodthirster charged into the Hellhammer, and ripped it to pieces in one giant blow! The resulting detonation killed the daemon, and a single Guardsman from the red infantry next to it. ((The Bloodthirster player and Hellhammer Commander know each other well, so I expect that they'll make many jokes about this one later.))

The Forces of Order continued to be at the throats of their enemies to the Western Flank.

Sharpe ordered his platoon forth towards the objective by the landing pad and, with a cheer, they managed to claim it! Now all they had to do was defend it from the Bezerkers who, with the help of nearby Eldar, looked in a good position to finish them off.

The line, somehow, managed to hold, as men continued to grapple with the Terminators. Fire from the squads on the centre objective brought down a couple, as did lasgunnery from the red infantry. The Baneblade brought down another clutch of Terminators with its massed guns, as did the Wave Serpents and Mortar. By the Western Objective, the Dire Avengers, their blade storm shot, attempted to take it by force with drawn swords, but neither side were capable of moving, killing one each.

To the West, the Eldar (Vypers, Dire Avengers, Farseer) and Attack bike fired a massive volley, killing all bar the Chaos Lord. Sharpe ordered a massive lasgun volley-almost thirty lasguns against the solitary lord-but found that the treacherous Eldar had killed so many Bezerkers that he was out of range! A trio of Krak Grenades managed to wound the Lord, leaving him with just one wound; and a nearby Killa Kan was destroyed with a rapid plasma volley from a nearby Cadian Special Weapons Squad. With a cheer, the Guardsmen surged forwards, bayonets fixed and swords drawn!

And then the Doomsday Device Fired.

Turn 6

With a great crash of lightning, the Doomsday Device blazed white fire. For some reason, the Blue and White Marines saw fit to withdraw ((their commander had to go.)) The situation was rapidly deteriorating for the Forces of Order.

The surviving Terminators continued their attack on the West, now walking virtually unhindered save for a few Wave Serpents, a squad of Infantry, and a melee over an objective. Bolter fire reduced the Infantry squad to once Guardsman, who ran away.

But the worst damage was with the Doomsday device. With a flash, it fired no less then five S 10 AP 1 10 inch Blast Templates. The tightly packed Green Platoon was targeted, along with virtually everything nearby.

With complaints ringing loud in everyone's ears, Sharpe's Command, twenty eight guardsmen, the Vypers, all the Eastern Dire Avengers bar one man and a Farseer, and the Attack Bike were slaughtered, as were two Cadians from the Special Weaopns Squad. On the centre objective, all bar a Perlion Vox Officer and a pair of Saggitarrian Missile Launcher Teams were annihilated.

All the Chaos Lord now had to do was to enact one final push, and take the objective. He began it by charging the Farseer and Dire Avenger. Both tried, and both were slaughtered.

With a manic cackle, the Chaos Commander rolled his consolidation.

One. Just enough.

The Duke saw the explosion, and looked around helplessly. Nothing could be alive there, surely. Any guardsmen would probably be running, and he couldn't blame them. He could see the Valkyrie screaming in for an attack run, could see a few heads turning, but it wasn't enough. The objective would be in the hands of Chaos. "Captain Tushin! Order every man in. Every man! We must defend this world. Can those Horse Drawn Guns ride quickly enough? No? Well, get galloping! We must stop the heretics at all costs!" He readied his power fist. "Gentlemen, to arms!"

Then his mircobead crackled. He touched a button. "Who's there?"

"The Sacred Emperor has decreed, that you shall not take a step backwards!"

The voice was familiar, and yet, impossible. "Commissar Vortus?"

"The very same, sir. We are not to give up an inch of sacred Imperial Soil! We will fight to the last drop of Imperial Blood! We shall give up our lives, if we are to protect this world!"

Vortus was alive.

"Charge!" Vortus bawled. His coat was singed off his back, and he has lost his pistol, but he still had his sabre, which he drew and brandished. "To the objective!"

He, and the two surviving guardsmen, ran forth to claim the objective. The Cadian Special Weapons Squad took calm, dead aim, and poured a volley into the Chaos Lord, and killed it at last. The Perlion PDF ordered their infantry onto the Doomsday, in the knowledge that all would soon die, along with the Dark Angel Vindicator.

And with that, the game was on, two objectives for the Forces of Order. Two contested by both sides.

Any comments?

[SevenSins]

very impressive! pure chaos from the get go. good work making a battle of this size followable whitout pics

90 terminators? I drool at the thought