A recent challenge I made to another local WotR league player who has a very goblin-centric misty mountain force.
Kin-strife at Mount Gundabad
It was a cold, starless night atop Mt. Gundabad where even above the clouds the stars would not shed their light on this ancient evil foundation of Angband of Old.
The goblin patrol returned home carrying a package wrapped in silver linen to Bolg, the Goblin King. Bolg opened his prize and started drooling, the bright glimmer of the package reflecting off of the spittle running down his chin.
From the shadows many goblins stared in wonder at Bolg, wishing they could have but a taste of the morsel he was about to eat. The shaman thought it was time to make his move and as a show of authority would claim the prize for himself as well as the Crown of Gundabad from the old King's brow.
The shaman cried aloud foul words of black-speech and with vile rancor, summoned a group of spiders to drop from the ceiling to land atop the King's fur covered stone seat. The king drew his sword and commanded his goblin and troll guards to put the shaman on a spit for the rest to eat. The king forgot the prize in his alarmed hatred and the sliver linen package fell to the ground and was swept up by the spiders who retreated back to the dark corners of the cavern ceiling.
The shaman quickly fled the chambers, calling forth the rock to grow to cover his tracks and block the path of his pursuers. With a soft long moan, he called his warg to his side and strode into the night to claim his prize after the failed attempt for the crown.
Torchlight burned bright this night as the goblins and trolls pursued.
Cries of war with the wilderness could be heard as bonfire were set to gather goblins to the call of killing their former allies.
The shaman sat on a snow bank beneath an outcropping of rock, listening to goblins scuttle past as he opened the silver parcel. He delighted that such a savory and delicate morsel would be his to delight over while his kin sought him.
War has now come to the mountains of Gundabad. All for greed to taste an elven maiden's single severed foot...
Are you going to let this insult stand without punishment? Or do you go back to your caves hiding so that the fauna of Gundabad do not erupt around your kin and consume you all? Already there are whispers among the others who think you have shown just enough weakness to be challenged again....
Terms of Battle:
850ish pts. from the Misty Mountain bestiary
unit upgrades such as captains, etc. are encouraged.
Limited Epic Heroes:
You take Durburz
I take Druzhag
Winner takes (or keeps) the Crown of Mt. Gundabad.
Done. I will call to the deep for aid in quenching my fury. Shame blood will flow for this insult... That was MY foot!
And so it goes...
Objective: The High Ground (Sacrifice Stone)
Deployment: Maelstrom of Battle
1x4 company formation of gundabad blackshields
1x4 company formation of moria prowlers
1x6 company formation of goblin archers
1 cave troll
2x6 company formations of wargs (1 with warg chieftain)
1 cave troll
1 dragon of ancient times with spellcasting ability
Midnight's crisp chill and stifling silence was broken as the Goblin King Bolg strode towards the Sacrifice Stone with his Black-shield guard of Gundabad. A place where many enslaved elves met their demise on the the Stone which was once part of Morgoth's stronghold, the black iron precipice of Angband before Beleriand was sundered.
As was the tradition amongst the Goblins, open challenges would always be met here so that any foul deed witnessed by the Stone would someday call forth their Dark Lord from the Pits of Utumno where they believed he now lay not knowing his true fate. Here would be where Bolg either lost or maintained his rule over the fell creatures in the peaks.
Bolg ordered much of his goblins to an early days trek and approach from the south side of the slope as that is where he believed would be the direction in which the shaman to be hiding, while he and the unchained Balrog of ancient Angband would approach from the north to await the the shamans challenge. His power over this mighty fell creature maintained by the crown of Gundabad. An artifact to whom it would only serve.
True to his plans, the shaman and many of his wargs did approach from the south. But not before Scorba the Red was roused from slumber and goaded into attacking the prowling scouts Bolg sent forth. The prowlers heard a loud hissing from far above as if water was being thrown on the hearth stone. The minimal warning they were given was not enough as the dragon rained molten death upon them and nearly killed every last scout now remaining.
Upon hearing the demise of his brethren, Bolg ordered the Black-shields through the snow to guard the Sacrifice Stone and for the Balrog to engage the foe surely coming from the south where the newly formed fog arose from the immolation. The prowlers however were not alone and were shortly joined by a phalanx of archers who would deter the approach of any foe so foolhardy to dare the Goblin King's rule. Loose they let their arrows upon the dragon and a roar was heard throughout the peaks as Scorba was wounded in the eye.
Enraged, Scorba began a black chant as he flew to met the threat sidelong. His invocation causing the slope to tremble and swallow many goblins in a landslide after engulfing them in gouts of magic-born flame.
The shaman thinking the path to the Stone now cleared, approached the new-born fog and was met headlong by the snowclad archers. Realizing his folly, the shaman called to the creatures that lay hidden in the trees, but few of Ungoliant's children heeded the summons... The archers alarmed by the woods becoming alive with activity fired and pushed back the advancing wargs. Victorious, they ran to meet the wargs with hooks and blades. Fear of losing the initiative, the shaman cursed the wargs and spurred them on the charge the archers headlong.
Arising from the mists came forth the Balrog, the thunder of his whip revealing his approach. Turning from this meager fare, the dragon flew towards this more worthy opponent and they clashed with dark sorcery of ruin, causing the mountain to erupt in flames and to tremble beneath the battle sending both reeling from deep wounds. Scorba then let loose a hoary breathe of evil, immolating the Balrog before they could engage with teeth and sword. The dragon's flight giving it the advantage, it was able to crash into the Balrog and crush its throat with a mighty snap of its jaws. But alas, the Balrog being an elder evil not of Morgoth's creation but of the original Song of the Ainur, struck back in its death throws and impaled Scorba to the hilt of his flaming blade of iron. Quenching its fire in the heart of the dragon.
Unbeknownst to the creatures atop Mount Gundabad, the elves would sense these great evil spirits leaving Arda and would sing a joyous yet short respite the next day in hopes that good may yet be victorious in Morgoth's Ring, where all life of Iluvatar's dream dwelt.
Fangs gleaming in the starlight, the shaman's wargs chewed their way through the archers but the archers held their ground and killed the demon-spider's progeny as well as many wargs before reforming their ranks. Disheartened, the shaman made one last call to the spirit of Ungoliant for succor and was answered by more meager fare. The ancient fell powers that once ruled middle earth did not look favorably upon the shaman's cries this night and he was killed as he advanced for another charge by bowfire. His pleas for surrender unheard. The archers in turn were ambushed by the spiders and though many wounds were received they killed the spiders with reckless hatred.
To the north side of the slope, Bolg's plan of ordering the black-shields to guard the Stone proved fruitful, though he knew not the fate of his challenger. A large pack of wargs approached the circle and dared to charge the Goblin king and his entourage. Enraged at this affront to his authority, he challenged the pack leader to a duel and summarily executed the warg chieftain and many of the wargs as the warg charge was met.
Bolg's keen hearing sensed the approach of a troll from behind. Cursing his own troll for not guarding his rear, they reformed to met both charges head on. The shaman's troll was too wounded to charge so the blackshields slew what had remained of the warg pack and awaited the troll with a eager grin. Tonight they would feast on fresh meat instead of rotten gristle.
Bolg approached the wounded troll and dispatched it with a quick strike across its neck, the head tumbling in the snow, now red from battle. Bolg howled in triumph and laughed in nervous mockery at how his challenge was barely met. With a full belly that night, he would sleep deeply without fear of another challenge within his ranks. No goblin would again dare after this display of might. Or so he hoped...
And thus ends this conflict with Wes winning and me losing.
Regardless, it was one of the most fun battles I have ever had playing WotR due to a mutually agreed upon list we felt was fairly balanced and fun.
I am quite grateful that the rules have enough holes in it that it forces players to not be too competitive. I think this love affair with WotR will last as long as I have an opponent to play and perhaps even beyond that.