Crown of Aeschere Campaign - End of Turn Zero

 

The Battle for Zhar

Grimgrot Grotsnapper

Mad Shaggaz slipped down from his war boar.  His choppa slapped against his leg as he stumped over to Grimgrot Grotsnappper. 
'Hold deeze hillz,' Shaggaz said.  'I go down to the planez.  I find big ax I dreamd uv.'
Grimgrot nodded.  He was a monster of an orc: broad as a ogre, ugly as a ogre, and as angry as a rhinox.  He didn't like being left behind to hold the rear.  He made that clear as he chewed the leg of a goblin who had made a joke about Grimgot that morning.
'I cum bak with ax make yu big chief!'
Grimgrot nodded.  You go and when you come back I cut your throat and take big axe you dreamed of. 
 
Mad Shaggaz left as the snow was starting to fall.  Grimgrot pulled his manskin cloak about him.  Not enough fat on these men, he thought.  All he had were some boar boyz and trollz who had found a mountain lake and were busy wallowing in the mud and eating all the fish. 
His mood cheered up when some stragglers came along.  A party of Stoneaxes who stood naked as the day they were spawned, chewing thier bones and scratching at their warpaint, and some wolf riders who had gone off raiding and only just caught up with the rest.
Grimgrot killed the biggest of them to show them all a lesson.  He was about to kill the next biggest when one of the boar boyz came up.
'Stunties!' he said.  'Clambering up the slopz behind us!  Got stunty machines!'
Grimgrot dropped the gobbo and as the thing sprawled on the floor and gasped for breath he bent over it.  'Fight good or I'll feed you to your warg!' Grimgrot told him. 
At that moment a giant stomped down from the mountainside. 
Grimgrot had no idea if it was on his side or not, but he waved his battleaxe, and shouted - 'Dey iz over dere!'
The giant turned and saw the dwarves.  A demon headed giant was coming up the hill.  It seemed as though they knew each other.   Both giants let out a great roar and charged. 
Behind him Grimgrot joined the Stoneaxes, blew his warhorn and led his forces forward. 
 
Bat rep:

Orc battlelines charge
 
 

Sam had his Infernal Guard about 4 ranks deep, with a warmachine either side, and a giant on his right wing. 
I lined up opposite him, with boar boys and trolls on the right, two chariots in the middle, the giant on the left, with the wolf riders, and my general with 30 savage orcs coming up the middle. 
The giants were the first to meet and they had 3 rounds of combat, in which I looked like loosing straight off, when my giant was hit by the siege giant's club, and he took 5 wounds in the first round.  In return, he took a great swing, which Sam's giant sidestepped.  This fight continued for three rounds of combat: Sam's giant kept sidestepping the club, and in the end my giant headbutted the other, meaning he couldn't attack next turn.  And stunned and bleeding, the headbutted giant was easy prey for a thump with the club, which killed him straight off.
Unfortunately, he fell onto my giant and killed him.
 
Meanwhile Sam's warmachines had panicked my wolf riders off the table. 
My boar boys and chariots and savage orcs all survived the shooting, and kept moving onwards.  One chariot got a charge off on the Dreadquake mortar, and killed the crew.  The other was destroyed by the flames of the hellcanon. 
 
The boar boyz failed their animosity roll and charged into the front of the infernal guard, and fluffed their wound rolls.  Fluffing wound rolls felt like the story of the game. 
My trolls followed and were run down.  And finally my savage orcs - who combined their charge with a chariot into the side of the infernal guard.  But to wound rolls did not go well, and lost the first round of combat, and unfrenzied were unable to hold their own.

I managed to cut down the dwarf sorcerer in the last turn, but failed my break test and Grimgrot Grotsnapper fled off table to eat goblins and worry about Mad Shaggaz being angry when he returned.  Or, if he returned. 
 
Afterthoughts: was eager to get into combat asap in order to stop being shot at.  Under appreciated how tough the infernal guard were with their save and 6+ ward.  Very rusty on rules, so forgot to call Waaagh, which may well have tipped some of the tighter combats in my favour. 
 
Should have delayed the trolls another round so they could have gone into the infernal guard with the savage orcs.  Also the critical point was my boar boys failing animosity and charging into the front of the dwarves, rather than sweeping through the warmachines and allowing both chariots to charge the dwarves.  But not entirely sure, how badly they were rolling their wounds, they wound have done enough. 
 
Should also have upped the Savage orc horde to 40, and stuck in a mage with the shrunken head.  Felt the lack of a magic phase and shooting phase: so will be fixing this next time.
 
Thoughts on Chaos Dwarves: tough and solid as non chaos dwarves, with the addition of magic and very effective warmachines. 
 

Battle Report: Ogres vs Chaos Warriors

The land was cold, bleak – the jagged stone mountains cut into the overcast clouds like teeth and hither and tither small rays of light broke through to shine on the sparkling snow that lay deep enough for a man to sink up  to the knees in. Men, such as those that dwelt in the weakling Empire of Man would die within an hour in such conditions. Sven Orffson felt nothing except the fires of his own fury which seemed to manifest in the foggy breaths that vented from the grille of his skull-faced helm.

He had travelled to this place, not so different from the regions where he was bred, in search of the prize that had intruded, unbidden, into his dreams. He recalled the visions he had had in his sleep; a pair of cruel, hooked axes cast of black meteoric metal. The aura the blades exuded was unmistakable: limitless power, unending glory, and the strength to carve out a kingdom that spanned the world as surely as Sven could tear a man in two with his bare hands.

Others he had spoken to had had similar visions but the prize was always different; a wand, a horned crown, a massive black shield, even a crow with eyes filled with balefire. But all of them made the same unspoken promises.

Sven looked down into the valley. This was the trail, the trail that lead to his destiny. He had seen others treading it from afar. Grand hosts and small raiding parties, but something told him they all moved with the same purpose of finding the prize. He was not great leader, not yet. The group of crimson armoured Chaos warriors that followed him did so because he was the strongest, the most brutal, the spirit of murder made flesh. Now below him, he spied a group of ogres.

The grunting bipedal beasts hawed and spat into the wilderness as they trudged along. Silently,  Sven hefted his axe and began to march down the hillside and without a word, his warriors followed him.

***

A standstill – the ogres had formed up in uncharacteristic patience behind a treacherously frozen lake while a huge cannon fired great balls of steel at Sven’s warriors. A group of goblin-like things grinned evilly at the Chaos warriors and Sven knew that but a few feet away, the ground was laden with traps that would maim his small force if they were foolhardy enough. Bit by bit, the wild Norscans that had joined Sven’s company, mounted on their swift steeds, charged towards the ogres’ lines and hurled their axes, cutting down the gnoblars and showing great restraint not to sate their battle lust and engage the ogres in combat.

Sven knew that time was against him. The rhinox-drawn cannon had thus far drawn a petty toll on his warriors but it could not last forever. Eventually his warriors would feel the sting of the ogres’ firepower.

Then he cursed. The marauders had finally succumb to Khorne’s call and charged the cannon. The beast reared fiercely but before it could dash the marauders to pieces, their hefty flails beat it to the ground and left it for dead with its skull crushed in. They overran it, fresh from their victory and Sven thought they would be butchered by the ogres, only to see the ogres turn tail and flee.

Victory! And so soon…! Seizing on it, Sven charged after his marauders, only to find the ogres turn about face suddenly. A feint! The ogres came charging down and smashed into Sven and his warriors. Their champion met the ogre bruiser face to face but was crushed in a single blow from a giant hammer. Sven himself hacked and hewed at the ogres but could not kill more than one at a time, for their bulk was astounding. A half-dozen blows from the ogres’ great weapons came down with the force of an avalanche but Sven dodged all but one. He brought his shield up with lightning reflexes but the enormous club smashed through it and shattered his arm. The blow almost carried through to compact his entire skeleton into the rocky ground but just at that moment, the old amulet he had worn around his neck since he was a boy flared brightly and the force of the blow dissipated until it was no more than a mighty thud that knocked the wind out of him.

As Sven got back his footing he looked around. His warriors had slashed and cut at the ogres but all around him his warriors were being massacred. The ground was sodden with blood, brains and cracked breastplates. He tried to shout for them to hold but the lungs in his battered chest merely heaved in protest. The rout was impossible to stop and the battle was over.

Sven did not swear vengeance that day, for he had been bested and was glad of the lesson. He merely swore that he would not be defeated again by any creature that walked on two legs, no matter how big it might be.