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Here's another narrative style report. Approximate forces are as follows:
Warboss, power klaw, bioniks, attack squig, twin linked shoota, boss pole
Battlewagon, deff rolla, armour plates, RPJ, big shoota, grot riggers
12 Burnaboyz, 1 Mek
25 Shoota boyz, Nob, powerklaw, bosspole
25 Slugga boyz, Nob, powerklaw, bosspole
4 Long Fangs, Hvy bolter, lascannon, plasma cannon
15ish Blood Claws
10ish Grey Hunters
The battlefield was part of a larger campaign, and was an abandoned airfield. A few forests around the outskirts, a ruined Administratum building in one corner (guess where the Long Fangs deployed), and large open runway areas in the middle of the battlefield. The Objective was table quarters, and was a gamma mission.
'Ere We Go!
The day was drawing to a close, and Doktor Orktavius and his ladz were advancing on Air Station 31 Epsilon, an abandoned airfield far from the front lines. The Dok was planning to use the airfield to launch squadron after squadron of fighta-bommaz and devastate the enemy once the fragment had been located. As he and his boyz emerged from the trees onto the tarmac, they saw across from them a small contingent of Space Wolves. Baring his yellow stained teef and howling with joy, he ordered his boyz forward for the attack. He watched with pride as Dakka Jonz’ Ladz surged forward with their shootas in hand, and Mezog’s Boyz keeping up with them on the left flank. Da Kroosada, a battle wagon carrying Torchwort’s Burnaz, tried to make the best use of limited cover while at the same time positioning itself for that coveted opportunity to mow down some Marine boyz with the deff rolla recently installed in front.
The Space Wolf Rune Priest had forseen the attack of the ungainly Orkish horde, and prepared his forces accordingly. Above, in the ruins of the Air Station’s Administratum, a detachment of Long Fangs took careful aim at the green tide advancing on them. The company’s Venerable Dreadnought flexed its power fist and spun the assault cannon barrels in a final functionality check. The Grey Hunters and Blood Claws were standing by to unleash hell upon the vile xenos. Minimal adjustment was needed to their positions, so the Rune Priest ordered the attack. The Grey Hunter squad fired on the orks carrying what they termed ‘shootas,’ killing one. The Venerable Dreadnought fired at the same group, and felled several more with his cannon. The Rune Priest, momentarily directing the field of fire, could not maintain his concentration, and failed to shroud his battle brothers in a protective psychic storm. The lascannon aimed by a Long Fang shot wide, and the behemoth battle wagon continued forward.
The boyz continued, unabashed by the loss of a few of their mates. One Marine fell to concentrated shoota fire, and the Venerable Dreadnought was shaken by rokkit attacks from the other mob. There was still a lot of ground to cover, but the boyz were getting closer.
Steely resolve gripped the Space Marines, as they redoubled their efforts to thin the tide approaching their lines. The Long Fang hadn’t calibrated his lascannon for the incredible speed with which the battle wagon was approaching, and so missed again. Dakka Jonz and his ladz were not as fortunate, as the Space Wolves found their marks and eight more boyz met violently explosive deaths from the business ends of boltguns. The Rune Priest managed to concentrate now that the squads under his command had their orders, and succeeded in providing his unit the benefit of being in cover.
Doktor Orktavius was fuming – the pansy marine boyz were standing there shootin, not charging in for a real fight! He unleashed a mighty WAAAAGH!!! and the boyz surged forward to get to grips with the enemy. Both mobz assaulted the Dreadnought, as they saw it as an opportunity to fight the biggest, nastiest thing on the battlefield. Mezog bellowed out mightily and unleashed all of his fury on the Dreadnought, ripping through the armored sarcophagus like paper and connecting with the powerplant clean through the other side! The resulting explosion kills several marines and several more orks, but stunted the momentum just enough so that neither mob could engage the Blood Claws just behind the wreckage of the Dreadnought. Meanwhile, Dok Ork was engaging the Grey Hunters and the Rune Priest, but the Marine hero was too fast, and felled him before he could even rev up his Power Klaw.
The Rune Priest allowed himself some small measure of satisfaction as he glanced down at the still form of the Ork Warboss at his feet. He derived a greater pleasure watching the plasma blast from the Long Fangs reduce more Orks to green goo. Without hesitation, he ordered the charge. Caught flatfooted, the Orks were no match for the Space Marine ferocity, and both were cut down as they fled.
Not to be left out of the fight, the Burnaboyz hopped out of Da Kroosada and unleashed the contents of two of their promethium tanks on the nearby Blood Claws. The rest of the ladz piled in, switching their burnas from “fireball” to “kuttin’ stuff.” Unfortunately, they did their job a little too well, and the smoking carcasses of Blood Claws weren’t suitable cover since their battle wagon had gone off to crush two Grey Hunters.
The Long Fangs watched with dismay as their junior brethren were slaughtered by the pyromaniac orks, and exacted a heavy toll of vengeance in the form of heavy bolter and plasma cannon shots. The lascannon wielder was still having issues with his sights, as yet another shot at the battle wagon went wide of his mark. The Rune Priest finished the job the Long Fangs had started by assaulting and mauling the remaining Burnas.
There wasn’t much the Orks could do at this point, so the driver and the gunner of Da Kroosada looked at each other, shrugged, and tore like bloody hell through the ranks of the Grey Hunters again, mowing one down in a sickening crunch of blood and gore.
Having been reduced to fewer than half of the Grey Hunters he had started with, the Rune Priest howled with rage and ordered an assault on the murderous vehicle. Fortunately, Doktor Orktavius had ordered extra armor plates to be installed for just that reason, and though the gunner was slightly dazed by the attack, the driver was still cognizant enough to speed of into the gathering dusk.
With night falling quickly, the Space Wolves made one last ditch effort to destroy the battle wagon prowling on the edge of the forest, but with no success. It was a day of mixed results – though the Orks had been prevented from taking the air station, the Rune Priest knew that he didn’t have enough of a tactical advantage to say his forces controlled it either. He knew that this would only prolong the war, and reported back to his headquarters the mixed news.
Meanwhile, Doktor Orktavius came back to consciousness and slinked off into the dark to gather more boyz for the next time he fought the marine boyz. There would be another battle, and he’d make sure he smashed that Roon Preest sumthin’ good.
SW: 715 victory points, own table quarter
Orks: 676 victory points, adjacent table quarter
blood for the blood god - yay!
I'm not a fan of RPesque batreps, but you managed to maintain actual losses and what was happening in a concise but entertaining manner. Kudos.
"War does not determine who is right - only who is left" Bertrand Russell
We bring only death, and leave only carrion. It is a message even a Human can understand.