++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Get turned to goo
Get burned alive
Get torn in two
Or three, or five!
My missing leg
I wonder why
If I ever get
Back home again
That recruiter's gonna die!
Adamson smiled to himself at his handiwork. The poem was painted brightly in white paint intended for marking mines upon the wall of the old mess hall. All newly landed recruits would surely see it on their patrols. Eventually some stuffy Inquisitor or Chaplain would hear of it and have the 'heresy' purged and destroyed. Humor had no place on the deadly surface of Xhorik Prime.
He smirked one final time at his own wit and turned back into the icy cold of late night mine sweeping. It was one of the lowest and least desired positions in the legion due to the risk of encounter with orks or genestealers and the blistering chill, but it gave a man the privacy to work his art. The lyrical displays he crafted across the North and West Sectors gave him and countless other terrified guardsmen a moment of mirth during an unforgiving and often short deployment on the war-torn planet.
The fighting had been intensive all across the Zone. Orks, who were normally ill-equipped to contend
with Imperial weapons, suddenly launched a reckless assault aided by explosives somehow within their barbaric possession. Although the "missiles" were often nothing more than warheads used as thrown weapons or attached to poles to create super-javelins, the effect was devastating. Self-inflicted ork casualties were high, but human were greater and the loss of heavy armor and weapons could not be ignored.
Adamson's company was only one of nearly a hundred brought in years ago to hold the city and ensure the mining economy's success. Orks were more of an oddity or amusement to the confident guardsmen posted upon the ramparts in those early days. The remnants of some ancient Waaagh! that fell apart due to lack of leadership, the savage Orks mostly screamed empty threats from a distance and threw stones. The last drop of fuel and the last bullet were spent long ago, leaving the once-proud warriors mired in stagnation.
However, new life had been breathed into the Klan. The surge of destructive violence was their
declaration of renewed ambition, as was the deep desire of all ork hearts. Blinded with their sense of
invincibility, the green hulks hurled themselves at the Imperial defenders with reckless fervor. The orks had a belief forged from generations of being downtrodden; any ork that kills a human goes to paradise with Gork and Mork in the afterlife. Clutching frag missiles in their hands, countless ork warriors dove into bunkers and down tank hatches to the deaths of everyone inside.
The face of war had changed. What was once literal target practice had turned into a fighting retreat.
Human morale was dangerously low. It was only the fear of being killed by your superiors that kept the men in line and on the walls. The common belief was: Orks will kill you, but the Inquisitor will torture you, then kill you. The only relief to be had was the hope that eventually the orks would run out of bodies to throw in the meat grinder.
Adamson shivered so hard, it hurt his back. The planet was cold enough when the sun was up. At
night, it was only his heat-chems that kept him alive. Some members of his squad foolishly gambled with the life-saving orange pills, but Adamson treasured and horded his. The little tablets increased his natural internal metabolism, bringing his body temperature up to a balmy 105 degrees but protected his brain from damage from fever. It meant he had to double his rations before a mission to fuel his overclocked body, but it was a welcome excuse to eat. Additionally, a layer of anti-freeze cream protected his exposed face and neck.
The dark was consuming and the silence defening, but no one dared make a sound lest they draw in
Lictors and Kommandos from the surrounding gloom. To his right, Adamson saw Shaw, shaking his
head with mock disapproval at the poem he had just discovered. No doubt he would have something to say back at the bunk house. It was risky to continue the defiant displays but it was all that kept
Adamson’s soul from sinking into despair.
Several hours passed without incident, the team spotting and marking mines left by the Orks to keep
the guardsmen penned in their city. The work was boring, boring enough to allow Adamson a chance to create his next verse in his head. In spite of the harsh and grim task appointed to him, he could not keep from smiling.
Once had a friend
Since we were ten
Went in the base
But not out again
We heard him scream
We heard him cry
His only sin
Was asking “Why?”
If I ever get
Back home again
That recruiter’s gonna die!
The area around him was amply filled with short ruins unsuitable to host one of his creations, so
Adamson cast his vision all around to detect a suitable canvas. Not more than a few hundred feet away was a mostly intact silo, rising boldly amid the ruins like a silver Colossus. So far from base, only his brother and sister mine sweepers would see it but perhaps that was best to ensure its longevity, considering the especially blasphemous subject matter. No officer would venture so far into contested territory to object to the art. Adamson quietly regarded his personal liability and the punishment that awaited him for a moment but steeled himself with the thought that his life would shine more brightly than that of the average cannon fodder grunt.
Careful to scan ahead of where he stepped, Adamson hurried eagerly toward the ancient monolith, the excitement of his work urging him onward. A hundred thousand beasts with great powers to destroy existed just out of sight but only he had the power of creation . With great sweeping motions of his arm, he wrote out the rebellious verse across the side of the silo, a wide grin twisting his mouth into a shape unfamiliar to humans in the 41st Millennium. Each letter sent his soul soaring to new heights. The frustrations of a million dead men came to life on his silver canvas.
“Soldier! Cease immediately!” a booming voice thundered. Adamson spun around to see the face of his sergeant, red with fury. He was dressed in chameleon camo and had revealed his face to create the image of a ghostly head floating menacingly in the dark.
“Doing surprise inspections...” Adamson thought to himself. The Serge often did check up on his
subordinates while veiled in invisibility and the risk of being caught misbehaving always hung over them all. Those caught idle during work duties were denied rations for 2 days. Those caught misusing Imperial property were denied rations for 3 days. He didn’t dare to speculate what awaited those engaged in active insubordination.
“You... You... will come with me for an interrogation!” the Sergeant stuttered with rage. “We will see
how deep your traitorous thoughts go!” He brought his arm out from under his cloak to reveal the inferno pistol in his grip. The weapon clattered loudly in his trembling hand. The other mine sweepers watched in silence, frozen like statues.
Adamson looked back over his shoulder at what was to be his final poem, pride and dread fighting for control of his heart.
Suddenly, the sergeant’s head and body shuttered violently and separated, ropes of hot blood spurting
into the freezing night from his rent neck, thick clouds of steam filling the air. His mouth screamed
silently, eyes staring in disbelief, as the weapon in his hand thudded into the snow. A huge mirage lurked behind him, a form twice the height as a man and impossibly silent, shadowy claws turning the head thoughtfully as tentacles probed. No one among the guardsmen stirred or allowed a sound to escape their lips. Adamson stood silent, his head turned away from the carnage. The sergeant’s body dropped to its knees and forward onto its chest, a wash of hot red covering the artist’s legs and boots.
The Lictor continued about its brutal task, extracting information from the human leader’s brain through direct consumption of the brain matter. The sergeant’s face twisted and stretched horrifically as the interior of the skull was invaded and emptied. Adamson eyed the inferno pistol in the snow next to the expanding pool emptying from his former superior. He knew if he attempted to reach it, the Tyranid hunter would cut him in half before he could blink. His only hope was to appear so pathetic as to not be worth acknowledging or confronting.
With knees shaking from a combination of fear and cold, the artist took his first steps backward. His
visor highlighted the nearby mines and he could see that the Lictor was standing among several.
Perhaps he could stand with a mine between himself and the monster and lure it in to its explosive
demise. He moved agonizingly slowly, breath coming in ragged inhalations, trying to remain as
nonthreatening as possible. The distant field beyond was laden with mines. Finally, his path chosen,
Adamson bolted into the minefield at full sprint. The tyranid snapped to attention, spiking the empty skull into the ground and dashing forward with the speed and lethality of a predator making a killing blow. Adamson ran with panic hot in his veins, zigzagging between mines, eyes darting left and right. He prayed to hear the welcome sound of the monster’s fragmentation behind him.
Finally, a barely audible *click* followed by a massive explosion rocked the silent night air. Thrown
forward onto his astonished face, Adamson hurried to cover his head and curl into a desperate ball. The vibration of the overpowered ork mine sent thunderous tremors through the ground, detonating the nearby mines in a ring of horrendous force and noise. A huge ball of fire and shrapnel filled the sky. Shaw and majority of Adamson’s squadmates were liquefied by the ordeal, torn into red mist. The chain reaction of detonating mines expanded ever outwards, banging like the guns of hell. Sound waves rocked through the once-tranquil night in all directions. The artist himself was blasted with dragon’s breath but endured, rising after a few moments to survey the carnage. What had begun as such a pleasant night had truly fallen apart.
He could still hear the reverberations echoing into the distance. The night eventually returned to its
former silence, Adamson trembling with surprise and exhaustion. He was still alive.
Far off on the horizon, sirens whined to life and blared, search lights crisscrossing the dark sky. The
local legion was being roused. They feared an attack and would immediately mobilize for battle. Within moments, Valkyries screamed through the sky, searching for the enemy responsible for the commotion. All their searchlights could detect were dozens of smoldering holes and a single guardsman, waving meekly.
Adamson’s earpiece crackled loudly before producing a very stern voice, “Soldier, explain this
immediately!” The artist stammered to speak but his voice was gone from shock. “Nevermind. I will
perform an inspection personally!” the furious voice declared before logging off. Within moments, a
column of Imperial vehicles descended upon Adamson’s position, stopping just outside the minefield.
Dozens of troopers clamored out of their APCs and filled the field in a wave of well-drilled bodies. Finally, the Commander himself strode proudly onto the field, surrounded by armored heavy infantry.
"This carelessness is unacceptable!” the officer spat. “Minesweeper mortality has been only 10% since I took command of this company and I will not have some clumsy backwater planet ape ruining my numbers! You killed your entire squad! I’m going to have to file a report about...”
The Commander’s scornful monologue was cut short by a distant sound. His anger turned to fear
instantly. Engines, crude and loud, bellowed from far away. From beyond the horizon, the ear-breaking cacophony of smoke-belching steel began to build. Powerful gunshots and a chorus of deep, violent warcries began to fill the freezing air. Adamson felt his stomach churn in the throes of panic. What had begun as such a pleasant night had indeed fallen to pieces. It was still too soon to consider the night survived. In fact, the odds of his continued existence seemed to be ever diminishing.
The sight of ramshackle ork vehicles came quickly into view. They were crude but far beyond what
anyone had seen greenskins utilize before. The orks themselves were painted bright red and showed
boundless enthusiasm for carnage, blasting flame and gunfire in all directions while howling viciously in their awful tongue.
“Men! Form ranks! We are under attack!” the Commander cried, his voice rising above the savage
wave of noise and smoke crashing upon the Imperials. With only seconds to spare, the guardsmen organized themselves to counter attack, with Adamson scrambling into place among the other humans.
Get burned alive
Get torn in two
Or three, or five!
My missing leg
I wonder why
If I ever get
Back home again
That recruiter's gonna die!
Adamson smiled to himself at his handiwork. The poem was painted brightly in white paint intended for marking mines upon the wall of the old mess hall. All newly landed recruits would surely see it on their patrols. Eventually some stuffy Inquisitor or Chaplain would hear of it and have the 'heresy' purged and destroyed. Humor had no place on the deadly surface of Xhorik Prime.
He smirked one final time at his own wit and turned back into the icy cold of late night mine sweeping. It was one of the lowest and least desired positions in the legion due to the risk of encounter with orks or genestealers and the blistering chill, but it gave a man the privacy to work his art. The lyrical displays he crafted across the North and West Sectors gave him and countless other terrified guardsmen a moment of mirth during an unforgiving and often short deployment on the war-torn planet.
The fighting had been intensive all across the Zone. Orks, who were normally ill-equipped to contend
with Imperial weapons, suddenly launched a reckless assault aided by explosives somehow within their barbaric possession. Although the "missiles" were often nothing more than warheads used as thrown weapons or attached to poles to create super-javelins, the effect was devastating. Self-inflicted ork casualties were high, but human were greater and the loss of heavy armor and weapons could not be ignored.
Adamson's company was only one of nearly a hundred brought in years ago to hold the city and ensure the mining economy's success. Orks were more of an oddity or amusement to the confident guardsmen posted upon the ramparts in those early days. The remnants of some ancient Waaagh! that fell apart due to lack of leadership, the savage Orks mostly screamed empty threats from a distance and threw stones. The last drop of fuel and the last bullet were spent long ago, leaving the once-proud warriors mired in stagnation.
However, new life had been breathed into the Klan. The surge of destructive violence was their
declaration of renewed ambition, as was the deep desire of all ork hearts. Blinded with their sense of
invincibility, the green hulks hurled themselves at the Imperial defenders with reckless fervor. The orks had a belief forged from generations of being downtrodden; any ork that kills a human goes to paradise with Gork and Mork in the afterlife. Clutching frag missiles in their hands, countless ork warriors dove into bunkers and down tank hatches to the deaths of everyone inside.
The face of war had changed. What was once literal target practice had turned into a fighting retreat.
Human morale was dangerously low. It was only the fear of being killed by your superiors that kept the men in line and on the walls. The common belief was: Orks will kill you, but the Inquisitor will torture you, then kill you. The only relief to be had was the hope that eventually the orks would run out of bodies to throw in the meat grinder.
Adamson shivered so hard, it hurt his back. The planet was cold enough when the sun was up. At
night, it was only his heat-chems that kept him alive. Some members of his squad foolishly gambled with the life-saving orange pills, but Adamson treasured and horded his. The little tablets increased his natural internal metabolism, bringing his body temperature up to a balmy 105 degrees but protected his brain from damage from fever. It meant he had to double his rations before a mission to fuel his overclocked body, but it was a welcome excuse to eat. Additionally, a layer of anti-freeze cream protected his exposed face and neck.
The dark was consuming and the silence defening, but no one dared make a sound lest they draw in
Lictors and Kommandos from the surrounding gloom. To his right, Adamson saw Shaw, shaking his
head with mock disapproval at the poem he had just discovered. No doubt he would have something to say back at the bunk house. It was risky to continue the defiant displays but it was all that kept
Adamson’s soul from sinking into despair.
Several hours passed without incident, the team spotting and marking mines left by the Orks to keep
the guardsmen penned in their city. The work was boring, boring enough to allow Adamson a chance to create his next verse in his head. In spite of the harsh and grim task appointed to him, he could not keep from smiling.
Once had a friend
Since we were ten
Went in the base
But not out again
We heard him scream
We heard him cry
His only sin
Was asking “Why?”
If I ever get
Back home again
That recruiter’s gonna die!
The area around him was amply filled with short ruins unsuitable to host one of his creations, so
Adamson cast his vision all around to detect a suitable canvas. Not more than a few hundred feet away was a mostly intact silo, rising boldly amid the ruins like a silver Colossus. So far from base, only his brother and sister mine sweepers would see it but perhaps that was best to ensure its longevity, considering the especially blasphemous subject matter. No officer would venture so far into contested territory to object to the art. Adamson quietly regarded his personal liability and the punishment that awaited him for a moment but steeled himself with the thought that his life would shine more brightly than that of the average cannon fodder grunt.
Careful to scan ahead of where he stepped, Adamson hurried eagerly toward the ancient monolith, the excitement of his work urging him onward. A hundred thousand beasts with great powers to destroy existed just out of sight but only he had the power of creation . With great sweeping motions of his arm, he wrote out the rebellious verse across the side of the silo, a wide grin twisting his mouth into a shape unfamiliar to humans in the 41st Millennium. Each letter sent his soul soaring to new heights. The frustrations of a million dead men came to life on his silver canvas.
“Soldier! Cease immediately!” a booming voice thundered. Adamson spun around to see the face of his sergeant, red with fury. He was dressed in chameleon camo and had revealed his face to create the image of a ghostly head floating menacingly in the dark.
“Doing surprise inspections...” Adamson thought to himself. The Serge often did check up on his
subordinates while veiled in invisibility and the risk of being caught misbehaving always hung over them all. Those caught idle during work duties were denied rations for 2 days. Those caught misusing Imperial property were denied rations for 3 days. He didn’t dare to speculate what awaited those engaged in active insubordination.
“You... You... will come with me for an interrogation!” the Sergeant stuttered with rage. “We will see
how deep your traitorous thoughts go!” He brought his arm out from under his cloak to reveal the inferno pistol in his grip. The weapon clattered loudly in his trembling hand. The other mine sweepers watched in silence, frozen like statues.
Adamson looked back over his shoulder at what was to be his final poem, pride and dread fighting for control of his heart.
Suddenly, the sergeant’s head and body shuttered violently and separated, ropes of hot blood spurting
into the freezing night from his rent neck, thick clouds of steam filling the air. His mouth screamed
silently, eyes staring in disbelief, as the weapon in his hand thudded into the snow. A huge mirage lurked behind him, a form twice the height as a man and impossibly silent, shadowy claws turning the head thoughtfully as tentacles probed. No one among the guardsmen stirred or allowed a sound to escape their lips. Adamson stood silent, his head turned away from the carnage. The sergeant’s body dropped to its knees and forward onto its chest, a wash of hot red covering the artist’s legs and boots.
The Lictor continued about its brutal task, extracting information from the human leader’s brain through direct consumption of the brain matter. The sergeant’s face twisted and stretched horrifically as the interior of the skull was invaded and emptied. Adamson eyed the inferno pistol in the snow next to the expanding pool emptying from his former superior. He knew if he attempted to reach it, the Tyranid hunter would cut him in half before he could blink. His only hope was to appear so pathetic as to not be worth acknowledging or confronting.
With knees shaking from a combination of fear and cold, the artist took his first steps backward. His
visor highlighted the nearby mines and he could see that the Lictor was standing among several.
Perhaps he could stand with a mine between himself and the monster and lure it in to its explosive
demise. He moved agonizingly slowly, breath coming in ragged inhalations, trying to remain as
nonthreatening as possible. The distant field beyond was laden with mines. Finally, his path chosen,
Adamson bolted into the minefield at full sprint. The tyranid snapped to attention, spiking the empty skull into the ground and dashing forward with the speed and lethality of a predator making a killing blow. Adamson ran with panic hot in his veins, zigzagging between mines, eyes darting left and right. He prayed to hear the welcome sound of the monster’s fragmentation behind him.
Finally, a barely audible *click* followed by a massive explosion rocked the silent night air. Thrown
forward onto his astonished face, Adamson hurried to cover his head and curl into a desperate ball. The vibration of the overpowered ork mine sent thunderous tremors through the ground, detonating the nearby mines in a ring of horrendous force and noise. A huge ball of fire and shrapnel filled the sky. Shaw and majority of Adamson’s squadmates were liquefied by the ordeal, torn into red mist. The chain reaction of detonating mines expanded ever outwards, banging like the guns of hell. Sound waves rocked through the once-tranquil night in all directions. The artist himself was blasted with dragon’s breath but endured, rising after a few moments to survey the carnage. What had begun as such a pleasant night had truly fallen apart.
He could still hear the reverberations echoing into the distance. The night eventually returned to its
former silence, Adamson trembling with surprise and exhaustion. He was still alive.
Far off on the horizon, sirens whined to life and blared, search lights crisscrossing the dark sky. The
local legion was being roused. They feared an attack and would immediately mobilize for battle. Within moments, Valkyries screamed through the sky, searching for the enemy responsible for the commotion. All their searchlights could detect were dozens of smoldering holes and a single guardsman, waving meekly.
Adamson’s earpiece crackled loudly before producing a very stern voice, “Soldier, explain this
immediately!” The artist stammered to speak but his voice was gone from shock. “Nevermind. I will
perform an inspection personally!” the furious voice declared before logging off. Within moments, a
column of Imperial vehicles descended upon Adamson’s position, stopping just outside the minefield.
Dozens of troopers clamored out of their APCs and filled the field in a wave of well-drilled bodies. Finally, the Commander himself strode proudly onto the field, surrounded by armored heavy infantry.
"This carelessness is unacceptable!” the officer spat. “Minesweeper mortality has been only 10% since I took command of this company and I will not have some clumsy backwater planet ape ruining my numbers! You killed your entire squad! I’m going to have to file a report about...”
The Commander’s scornful monologue was cut short by a distant sound. His anger turned to fear
instantly. Engines, crude and loud, bellowed from far away. From beyond the horizon, the ear-breaking cacophony of smoke-belching steel began to build. Powerful gunshots and a chorus of deep, violent warcries began to fill the freezing air. Adamson felt his stomach churn in the throes of panic. What had begun as such a pleasant night had indeed fallen to pieces. It was still too soon to consider the night survived. In fact, the odds of his continued existence seemed to be ever diminishing.
The sight of ramshackle ork vehicles came quickly into view. They were crude but far beyond what
anyone had seen greenskins utilize before. The orks themselves were painted bright red and showed
boundless enthusiasm for carnage, blasting flame and gunfire in all directions while howling viciously in their awful tongue.
“Men! Form ranks! We are under attack!” the Commander cried, his voice rising above the savage
wave of noise and smoke crashing upon the Imperials. With only seconds to spare, the guardsmen organized themselves to counter attack, with Adamson scrambling into place among the other humans.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
ARMY SELECTION: 1450 Points
Orks: Da Blitzdreg Boys - Bill
- Warboss Filgakk Skullsplitta: 'Eavy armor, shoota, power klaw
- Weirdboy: Mastery Level 2 with Warpath, Da Krunch, Frazzle
- 2 Meks with kustom mega blastas
- 3 x Meganobz with killsaw and bosspole
- 19 x Boyz with nob with klaw and boss pole
- 14 x Boyz with shootas, 1 x rokkit launcha, and nob with boss pole
- 17 x Grotz with Runtherd with squighound
- 10 x Kommandos with burna, nob with klaw and boss pole
- 11 x 'Ard Boyz with nob with klaw and boss pole
- Trukk with rokkit launcha
- 7 x Tankbustas with nob with boss pole
- Trukk with rokkit launcha
- 7 x Warbikes with nob with klaw and boss pole
- Warbuggy with twin-linked rokkit launcha
- Skorcha Trakk
- Killa Kan with rokkit launcha
Imperials: Xhorik 87th Drop Troops and Army of House Harkhathe
Land Forces - Pete (Horus Heresy Imperial Auxilia Rules)
- Force Commander Xhaer: Iron Halo, familiar, plasma pistol, power weapon
- House Harkhathe, The Hero Hammers: 15 Grenadiers with lascarbines and 2 plasma guns. Sergeant with augmented weapon
- Xhorik 87th, 2nd Company, Veteran Squad: 12 Grenadiers with 2 rotor cannons
- Xhorik 87th, 2nd Company, Recon Squad Gamma: 5 Recon Auxiliaries with sniper rifles and cameoline
- House Harkhathe: Support squad with 2 missile launcher teams and 3 lascannon teams
- Ordnance Battery: Medusa with 4 crew
Airborne Reserves - Phil (6th Edition Drop Troopers Rules)
- 2nd Company, 3rd Platoon
- Platoon command squad: Lieutenant Gjoka, vox operator, medic, 3 troopers
- 1st Infantry squad: 10 troopers with grenade launcher
- 2nd Infantry squad: 10 troopers with melta gun, vox
- 1st Special weapons squad: 6 troopers with 3 melta guns
- 2nd Special weapons squad: 6 troopers with 3 melta guns
- 2 x Drop Sentinels with multi-lasers
- Valkyrie Iliria with heavy bolter sponsons, multi-laser, rocket pods
- Tauros with grenade launcher
- 3 x Tarantulas with twin-linked lascannon
The mission is Pillage from the Battle Missions book. Gain 1 VP for each objective you hold at the start of your turn as your forces pillage or salvage the valuable equipment throughout the battle. This represents the Orks continually looting and destroying the objectives and the Imperials continually salvaging usable gear. Both sides must grab what they can before a massive rad-dust storm hits and drives both forces back (random game length). Secondary objectives: Slay the Warlord (d3 VP) and Annihilation (d3 VP).
The battlefield is a partially ruined and abandoned outpost, but some key facilities still have functional tech. The objectives are an ammo stockpipe, a water treatment plant, a communications tower and a hatch leading to an underground missile silo. The armies would be approaching the battlefield from opposite corners on a 5 ft x 8 ft table.
The battlefield is a partially ruined and abandoned outpost, but some key facilities still have functional tech. The objectives are an ammo stockpipe, a water treatment plant, a communications tower and a hatch leading to an underground missile silo. The armies would be approaching the battlefield from opposite corners on a 5 ft x 8 ft table.
Orks Pre-Game Comments:
Bill: I would be taking the tumultuous reins of the Orks, an army with which I had zero experience but nonetheless felt comfortable with. Perhaps it was the similarity to Tyranids that made greenskins so appealing to take as an army. Preference for close combat, swarm style of army, some highly mobile elites, and resistance to break tests. Yup, everything feels like home.
The mission was an objective grab set up over the largest dang game table ever hauled into a dining room! The scale of it was massive, with several distinct mini-battlefields; the ruined city, the highway, the central facilities, and the open wasteland. Each had an objective that would yield a VP at the start of your turn. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation as I considered all the speedy units revving their engines in my force. Tyranids had the legendary genestealer for early game pouncing but that was about it. Phil's Orks had so many ways to cover the battlefield, it seemed like the oversized board was just made to let the speed freaks show off.
Let's go over that roster: two trukks with elite units on board, two light vehicles, the warbikes, and the infiltrating kommandos. That's six fast units to spread over just four objectives. Seems like the Imperials won't be able compete with that, especially when half their army is in reserve. For the first couple turns, at least, the board will be mine and I can rake in victory points.The threat of deep strikers and a flyer with tons of guns is intimidating but I knew I'd win the game if I stayed focused and dealt with the droop troops when the time came.
The footslogging core of my army would march up the middle and try not to die of starvation or boredom before reaching the action. I decided to let a nob, painboy, and weirdboy form the core of the infantry swarm to free up the warboss to get a little wind in his hair (er, squig). A side group of shoota boys would take a separate path to sit on the bunker objective in the open plains area. I decided to break tradition and deploy the meganobs on foot and not in their oversized trukk, preferring to keep them close to discourage to any deep strikers later in the game. I knew that their diving boot wearing asses wouldn't ever see combat and it seemed like a waste of points but their real job was to create a radius of intimidation in which Phil would fear to drop units.
The warboss himself either knew that sometimes you have to sacrifice the queen to checkmate the king or he just really wanted a good piece of the action because he jumped merrily into the lead trukk with the tankbustaz and threw himself into Pete's heavy weapons. The 'ard boys loaded up in to the second ramshackle transport, putting a lot of heavy hitters on wheels (and next to the highway) to turn up the heat so high on those first couple turns, Pete couldn't afford to stop me from sending fast units to the farthest reaches of the board. I knew the warboss was a bit of a glass cannon and his death would net the Imperial not one but D3 VPs but it was a gamble I was willing to make. The guardsmen's CO, ironically, was only about a foot away from mine but I didn't recognize him. Being tempted to kill him would have distracted from my master plan so I was glad of my ignorance.
After deployment, I infiltrated the kommandos near the pump station objective but eighteen inches away from imperials. Pete set his snipers out of sight directly on the ammo container in the ruins to immediately begin getting VPs on his first turn. I mistakenly thought VPs were scored at the end of the turn and was already savoring the flavor of my first point when I realized I was down zero to one! In retrospect, I may have been able to squeeze my entire squad of burly ninjas behind the terrain to deploy within twelve inches but on the objective to get that first turn VP.
My general plan was to send the warbikes forward at maximum speed with the shoota boys in their wake up the left flank and the suicide diversion up the right with a solid enough core to respond to Phil's inevitable invasion up the middle. The weirdboy would be the sole psyker and had rolled the strongerst Ork power; Stomp (aka, foot of Gork)! It could be used indirectly, meaning my warp user could drop strength 2D6 large blast markers anywhere in range even without LoS. I felt ready for anything and was confident I'd have the Imperials reacting to my actions throughout the game. Time to start the action!
'ERE WE GO! WAAAAAGGHH!
The mission was an objective grab set up over the largest dang game table ever hauled into a dining room! The scale of it was massive, with several distinct mini-battlefields; the ruined city, the highway, the central facilities, and the open wasteland. Each had an objective that would yield a VP at the start of your turn. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation as I considered all the speedy units revving their engines in my force. Tyranids had the legendary genestealer for early game pouncing but that was about it. Phil's Orks had so many ways to cover the battlefield, it seemed like the oversized board was just made to let the speed freaks show off.
Let's go over that roster: two trukks with elite units on board, two light vehicles, the warbikes, and the infiltrating kommandos. That's six fast units to spread over just four objectives. Seems like the Imperials won't be able compete with that, especially when half their army is in reserve. For the first couple turns, at least, the board will be mine and I can rake in victory points.The threat of deep strikers and a flyer with tons of guns is intimidating but I knew I'd win the game if I stayed focused and dealt with the droop troops when the time came.
The footslogging core of my army would march up the middle and try not to die of starvation or boredom before reaching the action. I decided to let a nob, painboy, and weirdboy form the core of the infantry swarm to free up the warboss to get a little wind in his hair (er, squig). A side group of shoota boys would take a separate path to sit on the bunker objective in the open plains area. I decided to break tradition and deploy the meganobs on foot and not in their oversized trukk, preferring to keep them close to discourage to any deep strikers later in the game. I knew that their diving boot wearing asses wouldn't ever see combat and it seemed like a waste of points but their real job was to create a radius of intimidation in which Phil would fear to drop units.
The warboss himself either knew that sometimes you have to sacrifice the queen to checkmate the king or he just really wanted a good piece of the action because he jumped merrily into the lead trukk with the tankbustaz and threw himself into Pete's heavy weapons. The 'ard boys loaded up in to the second ramshackle transport, putting a lot of heavy hitters on wheels (and next to the highway) to turn up the heat so high on those first couple turns, Pete couldn't afford to stop me from sending fast units to the farthest reaches of the board. I knew the warboss was a bit of a glass cannon and his death would net the Imperial not one but D3 VPs but it was a gamble I was willing to make. The guardsmen's CO, ironically, was only about a foot away from mine but I didn't recognize him. Being tempted to kill him would have distracted from my master plan so I was glad of my ignorance.
After deployment, I infiltrated the kommandos near the pump station objective but eighteen inches away from imperials. Pete set his snipers out of sight directly on the ammo container in the ruins to immediately begin getting VPs on his first turn. I mistakenly thought VPs were scored at the end of the turn and was already savoring the flavor of my first point when I realized I was down zero to one! In retrospect, I may have been able to squeeze my entire squad of burly ninjas behind the terrain to deploy within twelve inches but on the objective to get that first turn VP.
My general plan was to send the warbikes forward at maximum speed with the shoota boys in their wake up the left flank and the suicide diversion up the right with a solid enough core to respond to Phil's inevitable invasion up the middle. The weirdboy would be the sole psyker and had rolled the strongerst Ork power; Stomp (aka, foot of Gork)! It could be used indirectly, meaning my warp user could drop strength 2D6 large blast markers anywhere in range even without LoS. I felt ready for anything and was confident I'd have the Imperials reacting to my actions throughout the game. Time to start the action!
'ERE WE GO! WAAAAAGGHH!
Imperium Pre-Game Comments:
Phil: Creating the army list was easy: we used all the painted Imperial Guard forces we had! The army composition was really based around the idea of a land force in a desperate situation with airborne forces arriving to relieve their hard-pressed brothers-in-arms. It also made for a nice, natural division in the control of the army with Pete taking the land force and me commanding the Drop Troopers. So the decision of what to start on the table and what to start in reserve was more based on this story for the army than around the specific tactics of this battle.
Our plan was to setup the Medusa in a central position where it could pound most of the board. The heavy weapons would take an elevated position in the ruins with a good view of the road. Captain Xhaer and his grenadiers would press up the left flank to support the infiltrating recon squad in an attempt to hold the ammo objective for the entire game, the easiest for us to grab and the farthest from the orks. Finally, Pete placed our bunker and the second grenadier squad on our right flank to protect our gun line against a sweeping strike by the fast ork vehicles, the famous Gorkamorka tactic, which is one of my favorites when I play as the greenskins. This would give the Imperium a classic Refused Flank strategy where we would hold the center with the bunker and the artillery while pushing north along the ruins on the western edge of the battlefield, preventing the Orks from being able to leverage their greater numbers to surround our smaller advance force.
We planned to use the Valkyrie as a gunship providing firepower rather than as a transport and kitted it out with a multilaser, rocket pods and heavy bolter door gunners. With 9 shots at strength 5 or 6 and two 5" pie plates per turn, I thought its best role would be to zoom around mowing down orks and allowing our squishy troopers to keep their distance and then grab the objectives after the xenos were wiped out or sent fleeing. Having a large platoon of 37 troopers and two sentinels with the ability to strike anywhere would allow us the flexibility to respond to whatever opening the orks gave us.
With the table and the armies set, it was time to (finally!) commence our first ever battle of Orks vs Imperial Guard!
Our plan was to setup the Medusa in a central position where it could pound most of the board. The heavy weapons would take an elevated position in the ruins with a good view of the road. Captain Xhaer and his grenadiers would press up the left flank to support the infiltrating recon squad in an attempt to hold the ammo objective for the entire game, the easiest for us to grab and the farthest from the orks. Finally, Pete placed our bunker and the second grenadier squad on our right flank to protect our gun line against a sweeping strike by the fast ork vehicles, the famous Gorkamorka tactic, which is one of my favorites when I play as the greenskins. This would give the Imperium a classic Refused Flank strategy where we would hold the center with the bunker and the artillery while pushing north along the ruins on the western edge of the battlefield, preventing the Orks from being able to leverage their greater numbers to surround our smaller advance force.
We planned to use the Valkyrie as a gunship providing firepower rather than as a transport and kitted it out with a multilaser, rocket pods and heavy bolter door gunners. With 9 shots at strength 5 or 6 and two 5" pie plates per turn, I thought its best role would be to zoom around mowing down orks and allowing our squishy troopers to keep their distance and then grab the objectives after the xenos were wiped out or sent fleeing. Having a large platoon of 37 troopers and two sentinels with the ability to strike anywhere would allow us the flexibility to respond to whatever opening the orks gave us.
With the table and the armies set, it was time to (finally!) commence our first ever battle of Orks vs Imperial Guard!
BATTLE:
Pillage / Salvage!
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| The battlefield from the west, ripe for the pillaging. An industrial outpost, decimated by artillery, sits along a highway in a desolate and rocky wilderness. Amazingly, the water treatment station and comm tower are still functional. |
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| Heavy gunners of House Harkhathe take up positions in a ruined building overlooking the highway, ready to give supporting fire. |
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| Commander Xhaer leads his grenadiers, The Hero Hammers, into the ruins to support Recon Squad Gamma and recover a store of precious ammo. |
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| Xhorik veterans with rotor cannons occupy a ferrocrete bunker to protect the Imperial right flank. |
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| The Xhorik Planetary Defense Force wheels in a piece of heavy artillery to pound the orks from a distance. |
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| Recon Squad Gamma creeps forward through the ruined outpost to try to salvage as much precious ammo as possible. |
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| From the north comes a huge mass of greenskins and smoke-belching vehicles, intent on looting everything they can gab. |
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| A killa kan stomps alongside a huge mob of boyz, eager to get their hands on the loot. |
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| Their ragtag trukks and buggies head for the highway and the increased speed it allows. |
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| The mighty Warboss Filgakk Skullsplitta rides in the megatrukk along with a mob of tankbusta boyz. A mob of 'Ard Boyz takes the second trukk. |
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| Giant, clanking meganobz anchor the center of the Ork line while grotz squabble and cower among the rocks. |
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| Shoota boyz and warbikers prepare to speed down the ork left flank to loot the underground supply bunker on the southeastern hill. |
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| Kommandos creep forward under the cover of toxic steam billowing from the waste pond. Their target is the valuable technology of the water treatment station. |
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| The Imperials are heavily outnumbered but reserves are on the way. The first to arrive is a Valkyrie screaming down out of the blue. |
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| The crew of the Iliria quickly size up the enemy threats and focus their fire on the warbikers, but the orks' dust and speed prove too much for the gunners and the shots mostly miss. |
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| Xhaer leads his men through a break in the ruins to reach Recon Squad Gamma, which is busy salvaging ammo before the orks can reach it. |
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| The warbikers gleefully race through the hail of fire from the Valkyrie and quickly reach the entrance to the underground missile silo. |
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| The missile silo below ground has valuable targeting and control components, that will be critical to both sides maintaining their warmachines. |
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| The skorcha trakk races to the comm tower where they set to work pillaging valuable communications equipment. The meganobz slowly stomp forward in the background. |
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| Meanwhile, the kommandos slink forward to the water treatment station |
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| With a thunderous roar and a cloud of oily, black smoke, the Ork vehicles race down the highway at full speed, straight toward the Imperial lines. |
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| Warboss Filgakk leads the charge from his giant, red megatrukk while the mob of boyz runs along behind. |
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| The opening of the battle sees the Orks surge forward across the front claiming three objectives they can start looting. |
Imperium: 1 (Ammo crates)
Turn 4 Victory Points:
POST-GAME:
Orks: 0
Turn 2 Victory Points:
Turn 3 Victory Points:
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| The Valkyrie Iliria banks sharply and dives toward the ork vehicle column, striking the ork trukks with its rockets. |
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| Ork drivers push their shuddering vehicles to full speed as they try to avoid the fire of the Valkyrie making a strafing run. |
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| Additional reserves start to arrive for the Imperials. A Valkyrie soars overhead and drops three Taranatula sentry guns right on target at the front lines. The automated weapon systems immediately respond to their sensors and start firing on the nearest enemy threat, destroying a warbuggy. |
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| A Tauros assault vehicle also joins the fight, racing in from the south and sending krak grenades into the oncoming ork vehicles. |
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| The Ork vehicles are such an immediate threat that the Imperials are forced to focus all of their fire on them to slow them down. Despite their ragtag appearance, the trukks are surprisingly durable and require multiple hits to disable each of them. |
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| Commander Xhaer and the House Harkhathe grenadiers meet up with the Xhorik PDF recon squad amidst the ruins. |
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| The Hero Hammers and Recon Squad Gamma combine their fire on the orks who are forced to dismount from their wrecked trukks. They mange to bring down a few of the heavily-armored 'Ard Boyz. |
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| With the shoota boyz now busily looting the missile silo bunker, the warbikers take off to find a good scrap. |
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| The warbikers race ahead in a flanking attack, ready to smash into the heart of the Imperial forces. |
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| The Ork center surges forward under the shadow of the strafing Valkyrie. |
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| Early Battle Overview: The Orks surge forward and quickly capture three objectives. The Imperials hold one objective and focus their efforts on destroying the Ork vehicle column before it can reach their lines. |
Turn 2 Victory Points:
Imperium: 1 + 1 = 2 (Ammo crates)
Orks: 0 + 3 = 3 (Water plant, comm tower, missile silo hatch)
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| Filgakk and his few surviving lads charge forward out of the burning mega trukk just as the Third Platoon of Second Company makes their drop onto the battlefield. |
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| Despite Third Platoon arriving and pouring all of their fire into Filagakk, they cannot bring down the giant Ork warrior. The Imperials are forced to use the Medusa to destroy the warboss before he can charge their lines. The crew skillfully lobs a shell dead on target and Filgakk is out of the fight. But he absorbed all the Imperial firepower, leaving the kommandos unharmed and able to continue their looting. |
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| The Ork left flank is finally destroyed, except for the Killa Kan. The walker is still a huge threat as it would be unstoppable if it reached melee combat with the Imperials. |
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| The rest of Third Platoon, Drop Sentinels and two squads of melta gunners, drops behind enemy lines on the north end of the road. The Sentinels destroy the Ork skorcha trakk, but the explosion of flaming promethium kills two drop troopers in the melta gun squad. |
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| The melta gunners fire on the Killa Kan, trying to stop the metal monstrosity before it reaches Commander Xhaer and his men, but they only manage to destroy the klaw. |
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| The grotz joyfully loot the comm tower while the meganobz slowly advance. |
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| The warbikers continue their sweeping flank attack, swerving through a mass of enemy fire from the bunker. |
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| The highway is littered with burning ork vehicles but the greenskins continue to loot three objectives while the Imperials have only been able to salvage one. |
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| The Orks keep the pressure on the Imperials with their advance, pinning them pinned back away from the vital objectives. |
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| The Imperial airborne reserves have finally arrived and punished the Ork right flank, but the Orks control most of the battlefield. |
Turn 3 Victory Points:
Imperium: 2 + 3 = 5 (Ammo crates + Slay the Warlord)
Orks: 3 + 3 = 6 (Water plant, comm tower, missile silo hatch)
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| The Iliria circles the battlefield and comes back for another run. This time her targets are the Ork kommandos looting the water plant and she obliterates them with a hail of rocket fire, finally clearing the objective of greenskins.... but another large mob is closing in. |
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| The Killa Kan stomps into the ruins to threaten the Imperials salvaging ammo. If it engages them in melee, the humans will be doomed with no way to penetrate its armor. |
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| The plasma guns fire and then it all comes down to Commander Xhaer's plasma pistol. He takes careful aim and disables the walker with a perfectly-placed shot, saving his men and any chance of winning the battle! |
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| Heavy weapons roar, vaporizing two Ork Warbikers as they close in on the Imperial lines. |
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| The remaining Warbikers head for the deadly artillery. |
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| Amid the smoking wreckage of Ork vehicles, the Drop Troopers and sentinels move toward the water plant. |
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| Drop Troopers fire lasguns as they advance on the water plant, now that the kommandos have been driven off. But the large mob of Orks gets there first. |
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| The remaining Ork boyz push forward and re-take the water plant before the Imperials. Their Weirdboy kills a few guardsmen with psychic energy, his powers bolstered by all the Waaagh! energy of the surrounding Orks. |
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| Meganobz and a mek move away from the objectives to engage the Drop Sentinels. |
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| The Ork Weirdboyz burns with raw Waaagh! energy from all the Orks around him. He clutches his grampy bone and begins to hop and shout madly in an attempt to release the building energy before it tears him apart. He brings down a giant manifestation of the foot of Gork and stomps the humans, crushing three drop troopers like they were bugs and damaging one of the sentinels. |
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| Mid Battle Overview: 3rd Drop Platoon arrives and helps finish off the Ork right flank. The Orks push forward and control the center of the battlefield and most of the objectives. |
Turn 4 Victory Points:
Imperium: 5 + 1 = 6 (Ammo crates)
Orks: 6 + 2 = 8 (Comm tower, missile silo hatch)
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| Drop Troppers push forward toward the water treatment plant, bringing down a few Orks with disciplined lasgun fire. |
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| More orks are killed by another massive shell from the Medusa siege gun. The Iliria drives off the grotz with deadly firepower and ends their looting of the comm tower. |
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| The last of the Ork Warbikers weave between Imperial units to attack their target: the mighty Medusa that has proven so deadly to the Ork forces. |
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| The ferocious warbikers slaughter the crew and destroy the artillery piece as Imperial troopers close in from both sides. |
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| The remaining Ork boyz loot the water plant while Drop Troopers close in from all directions. The warbikers finally finish their sweeping maneuver and neutralize the Imperial big gun. |
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| Away from the action, the shoota boyz continue to loot the underground missile silo and gather valuable equipment for the Ork meks. |
Turn 5 Victory Points:
Imperium: 6 + 1 = 7 (Ammo crates)
Orks: 8 + 2 = 10 (Water plant, missile silo hatch)
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| The Imperial forces encircle the Orks at the water plant from all directions and pour enough fire into them to cause them to fall back from the objective. |
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| Commander Xhaer and his grenadiers march forward, but they can see their men are not going to reach the water plant in time to salvage anything useful before the next rad-dust storm hits, forcing both sides to abandon the field. |
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| The Drop Troopers converge from all directions, desperate to reach the water plant and start salvaging the critical filtration equipment their forces need to keep up the war effort in the harsh environment. |
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| Their main objective of taking out the artillery accomplished, the Warbikers gleefully prepare to cut down the human infantry, thoroughly enjoying themselves now. |
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| The warbikers charge and cut down a few grenadiers before they can salvage anything from the water plant. |
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| Late Battle Overview: The Ork Warbikers strike the Imperial back line and destroy the deadly artillery. The Imperials drive hard from the west and clear the Orks from the water plant and the comm tower, but they are too late to salvage anything useful before the rad-dust storm hits. |
RESULT:
Imperium: 7 + 3 = 10 (Ammo crates + Annihilation)
Orks: 10 + 1 = 11 (Missile silo hatch)
Ork Victory!
Orks: 10 + 1 = 11 (Missile silo hatch)
Ork Victory!
POST-GAME:
Orks Post Game Comments:
Bill: A little closer than I might have liked but a victory nonetheless. My master plan that I call "pacifist orks" went off almost flawlessly. Surely it was against orks' violent nature to refrain from combat in favor of stripping useful components from buildings and hauling up supplies from the bunker but they obeyed their orders. Three VPs a turn for nearly the entire game versus the Imperial's one proved to be more than their combat rewards could match. What am I saying? The HUMANS got slay the warlord AND annihilation?? Surely Gork is shaking his head. Perhaps Mork is stroking his chin and nodding approvingly.
The most import moment of the game was Phil choosing to drop (most of) his deep strike units in his own deployment zone, meaning that the majority of the board was unquestionably under ork control. With no more surprises up their sleeves, the guardsmen were locked in place in their table quarter. Only the flyer, which did rob me of a VP by scattering the grots, remained to move about freely but it wasn't as troublesome as I had feared as it swooped around the battlefield. My plan had been to ignore it for the entire game.
Besides the obvious attention magnets that the warboss, his tankbustaz, and the 'ard boys were, the killa kan deserves a nod in recognition of it's ability to totally terrify Pete and keep his focus on destroying my "threatening" units while leaving the objectives uncontested. Never had a grot been so feared. Or so loved.
The shoota boys never even caught sight of an enemy but neverless would be strong contenders for MVP. They calmly and efficiently scored for 5 turns straight and were too tough for Phil's flimsy drop troopers to displace so he didn't bother "wasting" his precious units. They won by using the oldest rule of warfare: "If you are too strong to be attacked, you have already won". Thankfully, they resisted their crude instincts to hurry towards the sounds of combat.
For completely different reasons, the warboss could also be the MVP. His dominating presence kept all eyes on him and even sucked in the majority of Phil's drop troopers. The game could have been very different if Phil had decided to leave Pete's units to their fate and instead surround the bunker objective. Additionally, if those units had simply deployed as normal among Pete's, they would have had two extra turns of shooting against my trukk force. Instead, they flew in circles only to descend in their own territory. With a torrent of lasgun and meltagun fire added to the fusillade from Pete's heavies those first two turns, my warboss would have surely perished more quickly.
The bikes also performed excellently, scoring for turn 2 and then traversing the daunting distance that was the length of the board to finally destroy the troublesome siege gun while being literally showered with lasgun fire. Their toughness is becoming legendary. They wade with impunity like terminators through enemy fire, the nob's klaw hitting hard. I suppose they are only so effective because of the large size of the squad, a normal squad being 3-5 models. All in all, I think ork bikes are one of the best things about warhammer. I'm eager to some day take the helm of the white scars plasma bikes and jetbikes. That's like orks leveled up.
The only stinkers in the game were the meganobz, though they couldn't really fail since their only job was to exist and look scary. I foolishly moved them away from the comm tower and lost a VP when the grots fled. They should have just stayed put and kept the objective safe instead of stomping off toward sentinels that didn't threaten any vital troops or objectives. It's a good example of doing something unwise because doing nothing feels dumb. They had to immediately turn on their heels and lumber back up the way they came. If I had lost, I would have been majorly kicking myself for that.
The lost VP from the grots breaking and the missed one from not putting the kommandos directly on the pump station objective are the only two kinks in an otherwise flawless plan. I feel great about the battle and had a royal time throughout. The battlefield is just the best and the armies were great! Thanks, Phil!
The most import moment of the game was Phil choosing to drop (most of) his deep strike units in his own deployment zone, meaning that the majority of the board was unquestionably under ork control. With no more surprises up their sleeves, the guardsmen were locked in place in their table quarter. Only the flyer, which did rob me of a VP by scattering the grots, remained to move about freely but it wasn't as troublesome as I had feared as it swooped around the battlefield. My plan had been to ignore it for the entire game.
Besides the obvious attention magnets that the warboss, his tankbustaz, and the 'ard boys were, the killa kan deserves a nod in recognition of it's ability to totally terrify Pete and keep his focus on destroying my "threatening" units while leaving the objectives uncontested. Never had a grot been so feared. Or so loved.
The shoota boys never even caught sight of an enemy but neverless would be strong contenders for MVP. They calmly and efficiently scored for 5 turns straight and were too tough for Phil's flimsy drop troopers to displace so he didn't bother "wasting" his precious units. They won by using the oldest rule of warfare: "If you are too strong to be attacked, you have already won". Thankfully, they resisted their crude instincts to hurry towards the sounds of combat.
For completely different reasons, the warboss could also be the MVP. His dominating presence kept all eyes on him and even sucked in the majority of Phil's drop troopers. The game could have been very different if Phil had decided to leave Pete's units to their fate and instead surround the bunker objective. Additionally, if those units had simply deployed as normal among Pete's, they would have had two extra turns of shooting against my trukk force. Instead, they flew in circles only to descend in their own territory. With a torrent of lasgun and meltagun fire added to the fusillade from Pete's heavies those first two turns, my warboss would have surely perished more quickly.
The bikes also performed excellently, scoring for turn 2 and then traversing the daunting distance that was the length of the board to finally destroy the troublesome siege gun while being literally showered with lasgun fire. Their toughness is becoming legendary. They wade with impunity like terminators through enemy fire, the nob's klaw hitting hard. I suppose they are only so effective because of the large size of the squad, a normal squad being 3-5 models. All in all, I think ork bikes are one of the best things about warhammer. I'm eager to some day take the helm of the white scars plasma bikes and jetbikes. That's like orks leveled up.
The only stinkers in the game were the meganobz, though they couldn't really fail since their only job was to exist and look scary. I foolishly moved them away from the comm tower and lost a VP when the grots fled. They should have just stayed put and kept the objective safe instead of stomping off toward sentinels that didn't threaten any vital troops or objectives. It's a good example of doing something unwise because doing nothing feels dumb. They had to immediately turn on their heels and lumber back up the way they came. If I had lost, I would have been majorly kicking myself for that.
The lost VP from the grots breaking and the missed one from not putting the kommandos directly on the pump station objective are the only two kinks in an otherwise flawless plan. I feel great about the battle and had a royal time throughout. The battlefield is just the best and the armies were great! Thanks, Phil!
Imperium Post Game Comments:
Phil: We have been playing WH40k, off and on, for around 25 years and this battle was one of the highlights. Anytime that all three of us can get in a game together is fantastic. And this being the first time we have ever played that classic matchup of Imperial Guard vs Orks added something extra. Then add a giant table and great variety of terrain, as well as a fun and dynamic scenario, and it makes for an unforgettable game.
Pete: That. Was. Awesome! As said before, truly a highlight of this hobby we’ve shared for a majority of our lives. Professional quality terrain, game board, scenario, models, etc. And to have the three bros all enjoying the battle together? Ah, Warhammer just as it should be!
The game was exciting, but the humans just could not kill the orks fast enough to take the objectives. Bill throwing his vehicles straight at us right out of the gate was a great move that put Pete and I on the back foot early, forcing us to deflect that blow before we could challenge him for the objectives. As much as I wanted to drop a platoon near one of the Ork objectives, the opportunity just wasn't there this time. The hatch objective with the shoota boyz was tempting, except those warbikers were right nearby and they would have obliterated the poor squishy humans while lasguns just don't scare anyone. Plus, the melta guns were best suited for destroying vehicles, not mobs. Even with us focusing all of our firepower on a small part of the Ork army, it took a few turns of concentrated firepower just to fully break that flank. Turn 3 was especially painful when we had four or five units fire at the Warboss and his last few boyz but they couldn't bring him down so we ended up needing to use the big Medusa to take his last wound instead of scattering the kommandos from the pump station objective like we had planned. It didn't help that the platoon, the majority of our reserve force, didn't arrive until Turn 3 but that is a risk when you are banking on a single roll for the entire platoon.
Our most effective units were the Medusa and the Valkyrie. They inflicted most of the damage and kept us in the game. Although the most exciting single moment was when Captain Xhaer dropped the Killa Kan with his plasma pistol after everything else had fired it still had one hull point remaining. That is how a Captain should be: cool and reliable in tight spot. We just needed a few more rolls to go our way and we could have snatched a win. I will really need to get back to painting a few more Orks so we can continue the escalation between the greenskins and the drop troopers!
Our most effective units were the Medusa and the Valkyrie. They inflicted most of the damage and kept us in the game. Although the most exciting single moment was when Captain Xhaer dropped the Killa Kan with his plasma pistol after everything else had fired it still had one hull point remaining. That is how a Captain should be: cool and reliable in tight spot. We just needed a few more rolls to go our way and we could have snatched a win. I will really need to get back to painting a few more Orks so we can continue the escalation between the greenskins and the drop troopers!
Pete: That. Was. Awesome! As said before, truly a highlight of this hobby we’ve shared for a majority of our lives. Professional quality terrain, game board, scenario, models, etc. And to have the three bros all enjoying the battle together? Ah, Warhammer just as it should be!
Pre-battle, I was worried that the Imperial Guard vs. Orks would be a really tough go for the ‘umies. An ideal roster build for a competitive Imperial Guard army would include a handful of tanks, maybe even a half dozen or so in a game this size! That level of mobility and firepower would give the Orks fits as their only real threat to take them out would be close combat with power fists. But alas, Phil and I were forced to field an Imperial Guard army with ZERO heavy tanks vs. a rampaging mob of hulking orks in trucks and on bikes. But, then again, “even a man who has nothing can still offer his life.”
Bill’s strategy was strong, and after witnessing that carnage, I’m as surprised as he is that the final score was only a 1 VP difference. I’ve been on this end of an ork onslaught more times than I can count, so I’m well aware of the power of a fast moving Waagghh vs. a shooty army intent on remaining out of CC at all costs. And then include numerous objectives all over the battlefield that our shooty army needs to go take and hold? Aw Fuck…
I’m eager to play another game of Orks vs. Guardsmen in the future, but perhaps next time we’ll do it
with some rolling thunder! But Bill, we’ve got to get you down here to Houston before next February!
It's definitely enjoyable to relive that epic battle. Some really great pics like the shoota boys watching the battle from afar and one raising his hands as if saying "come on!". Also, the dancing voodoo man with his 'grampy bone'. Do orks have grampies? I liked the dust clouds from the bikes too. The warboss getting obliterated by a Medusa shell is quite a sight as well. Very exciting! That editing program is the tits. It has taken me all evening to read all the blog. Great work!
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