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Two clans clash over...over....well over whatever they want to. Do they need a reason?
Warlord - Warp agumented weapon, 4+ armor (i think) and Foul pendant (5+ ward)
Plague Priest - Plague Censor, and...erm....what was that thing that didn't do anything again?
20x Clanrats - full command, spears, shields
poison wind mortar
20x Clanrats - full command, hand weapons, shields
20x Plague Monks - full command
2 rat ogres, 1 packmaster
as you can see he took the IOB set abd added a box of monks.
Chieftain - BSB, foul pendant
Assassin - weeping blade
50x Skavenslaves - musician
30x Clanrats - musician
20x Stormvermin - banner
20x Plague Monks
He had more equpiment, i had more numbers. We rolled basic battleline scenario. (I rolled a 1 as my first dice roll of the day, things were looking good.)
I will say i feel as though i didn't deploy as best i could. On top of that, I put my grey seer in my vermin unit. I wanted to split my chars up, and for whatever reason, i put the BSB with the clanrats, and the seer in the vermin. Maybe i got a contact high when i walked by the smelly alley way earlier?
There was a whopping 5 pieces of terrain rolled. The only noticeable pieces were the small house and two forests that funneled our troops toward each other. (we didn't use any special terrain, just plain old dull trees and a house with an angry farmer inside.)
On with the Fluffy (and possibly horrible) write up and pictures!
Keep in mind this game was weeks ago, my memory is a little foggy in this respect, so the write up might be a little out of whack.
Deployment: (and his first movement)Grey Seer Gahstol Pattercast Looked out over the green field before him. Small cottages and thickets of trees dotted the hills. It made him sick. It was too green. Too peaceful. Too bright. He had mobilized a small contingent of Clan Skrabs forces to come up from the under empire to plunder this town. It should have been an easy loot, eat, and run, but forward gutter runners had reported seeing another clan on the horizon, heading for the cottages themselves. Gahstol could just see them now, the banners flying just beyond the hills. His forces had already marched into battle line formations. He had no idea which rival clan was marching toward his catch, but he wasn’t about to let them take what was rightfully his, to stomp out this disgusting little town in the name of the Great Horned Rat.
He stood with his loyal Stormvermin entourage. They would die for him at a moment’s notice, if only out of fear that the great horned one would torture them for eternity if they did not. To his right Chieftain Sourkrot Twitterknaw stood with a contingent of Clanrats, His banner hoisted high, a dwarven head hung garishly from the top. Between them stood the numerous slaves. They would be pushed into combat, rats to the slaughter. Nothing more but a literal meat shield for the real fighting force. His left was shrouded in a thick green fog. The unit of plague monks that had accompanied him on this raid. They stood ripe with disease, squeaking and chittering loudly when the first signs of the foe began to rise. Somewhere among his troops ranks or lurking in the shadows was Diskreet Quickwhisper, an assassin and right paw rat to both himself and Warlord Skrot.
He waved all his troops forward, sending the slaves out in front for their inevitable doom. The rival clans troops had already began marching toward his lines. He saw the warlord of the clan himself marching with a contingent of clanrats. He raised his hand toward the group, squeaked a few words, and prepared himself for the massacre that would be the warlord’s entourage. The magical energies began to build. He thrust his hand forward and…Nothing. A few sparks that would not even singe the wings off a fly. He spotted the source of this annoyance, a disgusting excuse for a wizard, a Plague Priest, covered in puss and rot. He raised his paw again toward the warlord, gathering even more energy than before. His squeaks grew louder; his fingertips began to glow with hot green energy. The winds of magic fully opened themselves too him, and the power was unreal. Magical green bolts erupted from his fingertips, hurdling themselves toward the rats. The bolts pierced the light armor of the clanrats, frying and burning several rats into nothing more than smoldering carcasses. As soon as the spell was unleashed, excess magical energy surrounding the Seer combined and detonated, frying several of his Stormvermin around him. A small price to pay, he thought.
The rival clans forces continued to march ever closer. It was time to get his fodder into place. Gahstol ordered the slaves pushed forward. They charged the warlord’s block of clanrats, forced into battle. He also waved his contingent of plague monks forward, ready to get into the thick of it. He held back with Sourkrot, ready to sling spells at any targets the presented themselves.
A squeaky battle cry rang out from his left, his monks had joined battle, far sooner than he had expected, with none other than the rival clans own Plague monks. The Plague priest was with them, swinging a nasty flail dripping venom and disease. The priest harnessed the winds of magic, unleashing a plague upon the enemy monks, as well as a devastating explosion from sapping too much energy from the winds. As if the explosion of energy hadn’t caused enough casualties to both sides, the plague swept through the monks and came right at Gahstol, who had the essence of mind to cover his snout with his robe. Most of his guards followed suit, but some fell to the toxic fumes. The Plague then swept out of control, and blew straight into another contingent of clanrats of the priests own clan. As if that weren’t enough, a poison wind globe launched wildly from a mortar also crashed into this unit, emitting screams from the hapless rats.
Sourkrot Twitterknaw heard the cries of death, and followed the tainted trail of plague toward the screams. There he saw another contingent of clanrats marching around the side of a small forest, clearly trying to take his flank by surprise. He called out the commands to his rats, which reformed to take this new threat. Gahstol noticed his hasty maneuver, and similarly reformed his Stormvermin to face this new threat. He called upon the winds of magic yet again, and thrust his paws to the ground. A huge crack formed as the earth tore itself apart, and headed straight for the beaten rats. Several fell into the chasm to their death, while other leapt out of harm’s way.
Diskreet Quickwhisker saw his target. The Warlord stood in the front ranks, hacking and slashing away slaves with abandon. He erupted from his cover, launching himself at the giant of a rat. The warlord was quicker then Diskreet thought, and his attack failed. The warlord Howled with rage and a circle formed around the two. They squared off, Diskreet striking out first, his blades weeping poison. Most of his attacks bounced off the warlord’s heavy armor, but one attack struck home at a crease between the plats, poisons pumping into the wound. The Lord counter attacked with a weapon that was obviously enhanced by warpstone. Diskreet was quick enough to dodge most of the attacks, but also earned a slash along is shoulder.
The two units of monks hacked away at each other with a frenzy neither side could overcome. Monks died in droves, but soon the tide turned in favor of the priest. His unit pushed on by his Squeaking and the sacred plague censor, His unit eventually broke the other monks, and cut them down as they tried to flee. Gahstol saw this, and as Sourkrot charged the other contingent of clanrats the tried to outflank them, he reformed his own unit to face off against the now free plague monks. He hadn’t expected them to fail so miserably.
Seeing Gahstol leaving him on his own, Sourkrot pushed his clanrats on. He noticed two rat ogres moving to his flank, surly they would charge if given the chance. He doubled his efforts, spurring his rats on, he broke the already battered unit of clanrats, they turned to flee, and his own rats wanted to run them down, but he held them back. He called for them to reform, facing off against the rat ogres that were getting ready to charge him.
Diskreet landed another blow. The warlord was in pain. His swings were sluggish. Diskreet did not even have to try to dodge, the warlords attacks all missed, as if he were trying to hit the air around the assassin instead of the assassin himself. The battle raged on. The Priest and his monks reformed and readied themselves for a charge from the stormvermin unit. The priest unleashed a tide of rats at the seer, the vermin dragging down a few of his guards, and spilling past them into his own rat ogres, who had marched straight past Sourkrot and his rats in favor of attacking the weekend Grey seers unit.
Then Gahstol heard the screams. The squeaking dyeing screams. He saw a flash of black, Diskreet, favoring to live another day, fled the battlefield. But the slaves he was hiding in did not fare so well. They were broken, their losses became too great, and the frightened weaklings broke down. The warlords unit attempted to pursue. The slaves, seeing themselves as slaughtered anyway, began to go berserk. Scratching, biting, clawing, and hacking at anything that came close. They destroyed themselves, as well as a few of the lord’s clanrats.
Gahstols shield had broken. His unit was severely battered. Sourkrot was too far away to help him now. He saw but one chance. He summoned what magical energies he could, focusing all of it into one mighty spell. Suddenly, the fabric of reality torn asunder above the battered priest and his monks. They looked up, and it was as if the Great Horned one himself had come forth to greet them. They cried as their bones began to break, the skin fell from their muscles, spilled forth. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, they stood up, taking up discarded spears and shields, ready to serve their new lord. Grey Seer Gahstol.
The warlord, outraged, charged the Seers unit, hacking down what stormvermin were left. Gahstol had the frame of mind to run, tripping up whatever vermin were following him, to better serve him as speed bumps to the enemy as he made his escape.
His stray unit of clanrats and warpfire thrower never rallied, and my grey seer was killed, buuuut i left him alive for fluffy reasons. That was about it at this point. I'll recap the more intresting points...
The assassin and warlord were in a challenge for three rounds. They traded blows the first, i wounded the second as he fluked ALL of his to hit rolls. All. Not a one hit. I laughed. Hard. The third round saw the slaves break, and along with them went my assassin. Even steadfast with general and BSB nearby, they failed. *sigh*
His unit of clanrats on the right flank got hit by himself fairly hard. I was able to pass his plague onto them, and then was allowed to choose them as the mortars target when it misfired. My BSB and clanrats broke them in one round of combat.
After his priest miscast in the middle of combat and ran down my monks, my slaves broken and gone, I decided to throw everything i had. The thirteenth spell went off (without a miscast) and fully transformed his rats...into...well..rats. Yay me! After his warlord and ogres charged and killed the last of the vermin, My seer was clearly going to run, unless i rolled ones. What did i roll? Ones. Yes for some reason my weak gray seer wearing nothing but thin robes and a dull little dagger thought it prudent enough to stick around for another round of fighting with a couple giant ogers and a scary lord staring him in the face. Nice time for a Skaven to have some courage.
All in all it was a fun game. We figured it was either a draw or a minor victory for me. The awesome randomness of the Skaven and tendency for killing themselves shone through yet again. Next time i'll be sure to take more pictures, and try not to wait weeks after to do a writeup.
Last edited by Meatfoot9; November 8th, 2010 at 15:15.
The legions of Palos[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]