Battle Report: The Bridge Over the River Chai - Turn 2

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Turn 2 (you are here)

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Epilogue

 Turn 2

In the last episode, we watched as the dark elves were pounded into the floor by the remorseless war engines of the dwarves, whilst the Orcs & Goblins imploded on themselves with animosity.

In turn 2, things are a bit more...straightforward.

Straightforward in that some of soldiers were afforded the opportunity to let the enemy know exactly how they felt about things and to clear the air a bit - discuss their differences, if you will.

With weapons.

The turn starts like this

Movement Phase

Only two units failed animosity checks this turn, giving Thantsants some modicum of control over his army this turn. Not one to waste opportunities like that, Thantsants directed Rogaine to hurl himself at the chariot! Not only that, but Master B'tor and the recently appointed Seaman Sprayes, filled with the hatred of a thousand years, climbed the hill before them at pace to introduce themselves to the wood elves at the top.

Airbornegrove, not to be outdone, responded by sending his brave commander to apply some discipline to the witch elves. The witch elves, always keen on disciplinarians, responded to the charge by holding.

With such an exciting set of opening moves, the remaining moves seemed positively mundane. Everyone else moved closer to everyone else. Of note, perhaps, would be dwarven left electing to step into the icy cold River Chai as they start trying to find their way across.

As with grand slam tennis (always a favourite with the orcs when they have the time), an observer would note the perfect unison with which Rogaine's Lamentable Regiment of Boworcs moved their heads as they watched the gyrocopted clatter overhead. As one, they slowly turned around, beady eyes firmly locked on the amazing flying machine, so dedicated to their new purpose that they hadn't noticed they were not facing the dwarven line anymore...

Actions

GM:

WL

Moved forward 8"

GF

Suffers animosity @ RGH, moved forward 3.5"

KYP

Suffers animosity @ SBB, wheeled right 3.5"

Airbornegrove:

KBP2

Shot @ MB, wounded 0

LTK

Charged @ WoP

I

Moved forward 3"

F

Moved forward 3"

S

Moved forward 3"

MF

Moved forward 3"

A2C

Moved forward 1.5" @ difficult ground

MO

Moved forward 3" @ difficult ground

TT

Flyed @ level +10, accl. 8", current speed 16"

Thantsants:

WoP

Holds

SOC

Charged @ KBP2

MB

Charged @ KBP2

RGH

Charged @ WL

W

Moved forward 5" @ RGH right flank

RLR

Turned around

K3C

Moved forward 3.5"

CGC

Changed formation to 6 files, moved forward 0.5"

SBB

Turned left

***

Meedy Ochre loved his job. He knew that other giants were employed in construction, or milling, or other intensive labour roles. Other giants were almost feral, just wandering around the mountains eating raw food and sleeping in caves.

For his part, he felt he had it pretty good: he'd had beer for breakfast, a small beer top up for tea just before the battle and he was looking forward to some beer for dinner. As a job, he got to mangle little people and eat anything he found. Nico Teehn was good to him.

In fact, the only part he didn't like was the complex business Nico referred to as the rules of engagement. The rules of engagement were dictated to all of Nico's chaps, but Nico always took Meedy through the rules again afterwards, just to make sure.

This battle's rules were complex. Just thinking about them made his head hurt. Scrunching his forehead in concentration, he rested up against a tree as he recalled what Nico had said earlier that morning.

***

"Got that, Meedy? Yeah? Okay - now you tell me what the rules are."

Meedy nodded slowly. He lifted his massive leg to make sure that Nico could see his knee. Pointing at the knobbly appendage, he said: "anyone lower than this gets crumped."

Nico smiled as he shook his head. "No, not quite. Try again."

Meedy, still holding his knee up, scratched his eyebrow and strained to recall the rules. A long silence followed. The giant swayed dangerously as his eyes explored the surrounding scenery, his brain furiously scrounging for any applicable fact that might satisfy Nico. Eventually, his gaze settled on Nico, quiet desperation evident all over his unshaven countenance.

Nico patted the big fellow. "Go on, buddy. Put the leg down. Both feet on the floor, then try again."

Meedy dropped the knee, his boat-like foot slamming into the ground. The impact seemed to jog his memory. Relief washed over his face.

"Ur," he grunted. This time he bent down and pointed to his knee. "Anyone lower than this gets crumped?"

Nico clapped. "Brilliant! That's not quite right, but we're getting there. Anyone lower than this - " Nico tapped Meedy's knee, " - is bad... unless?"

Meedy blinked, the question quite unexpected. "Ur," he speculated. "Unless... they're green?"

Nico winced and shook his head.

"No? Ur. No - wait. Lower than this" - he pointed at his knee again - "and not green, is, ur... dwarves.   This time, dwarves good. Yeah?"

Meedy grinned as Nico clapped. "Yes - that's right. No killing dwarves! Lower than the knee and green - bad, okay?"

"Ur. Yeah! Gottit!"

"Okay, so what else?"

Meedy's face collapsed like a felled tree. "Oh? S'more, is there?"

Nico nodded. "C'mon, big fella - you can do it!"

The giant explored his chin with his hand as he consulted his overstretched brain. He looked hopefully at the beer barrel behind Nico.

Nico raised an eyebrow and wagged a finger at the straining giant. "Not until we got the rules clear. What else?"

"Aww, Nico..." Meedy whined.

"What else?"

"Gimme a clue, man!"

Nico thought for a second. "What about enemy higher than your knee?"

The giant stared at the sky as he chewed a nail. despair clouding his features. He shrugged.

"Okay, okay - what about ears?"

The giant snapped his fingers in delight, the connection made! "Yes - that's it! Okay, so if yer taller higher than this" - he pointed at his knee again - "an you got ears, you gets crumped!"

"I got ears and I'm higher than your knee. You gonna crump me?" Frustration seeped into Nico's tone.

"Gosh no! Not you or any of the others. Course not!" Meedy squinted as his memory dragged a fact to the present from the distant past. "Well, not on purpose, anyway!"

"Meedy! We need to get this right! Pointy ears - tell me about the pointy ears!"

Slowly, realisation dawned on the hulking giant. "Why didn't you say? Pointy ears is on our side!"

Nico breathed out slowly. I suppose I should take what I can get, he thought. "Unless?"

Unless? The giant was crestfallen. "Can't you just point like we did the last time?"

Nico patted the poor giant. "I know it's hard. I'm sorry - but we have to get this right. Remember the last time? They wanted a refund 'cos of that, so we need to get this right, okay? It's the last rule, you're nearly there!"

"Ur. Okay," muttered the sullen giant.

"So, pointy ears that are taller than your knee and..."

"Is it a colour thing?"

Nico nodded excitedly. "Go on..."

"Is it that purpley ones are bad and greeny ones are good?"

"High five!" yelled Nico, before instantly regretting it as he flew through the air...

***

Shooting Phase

Thrilled at the opportunity to see their warriors beat the stuffing out of the enemy, it appears that none of the heavy hitting stone throwers were able to find their mark. Still, in spite of that, the dwarves still caused the deaths of nine greenskins.

This was partly achieved by the dwarves taking a chance and firing through the mystic mist. The dwarves, having both long memories and what could only be described as 'a target rich environment', are able to broadly recall the rough direction of the large horde of orcs on the other side of the river, and place a cannon ball squarely into a unit of goblins.

Elves are renowned in classic fantasy for their shooting skills. This being a classic game of warhammer, you are right to expect the same of the elves fielded here - as, no doubt, did their respective commanders. But in a rare display of bilateralism, it appears that neither wood elf nor dark elf could bring themselves to slay their opposites. Perhaps we really are entering the age of forgiveness?

And last, but not least, the gyrocopter pilot, having already caused more confusion in the orc line, produces a bomb and a light. Unquenchable gravity, the erstwhile friend of the common orc, combined with said bomb and light to produce an explosive outcome for the orc archers!

Actions

Airbornegrove:

KBP1

Shot @ SQC, wounded 0

A1C

Shot @ K3C, wounded 4

MF

Shot @ W (spider), wounded 0

TT

Dropped bomb @ RLR, wounded 3

C

Shot @ RLR deviated @ CGC, wounded 2, +1 heat point

BT

Shot @ RLR deviated @ RLR, wounded 0

E

Shot @ RLR deviated, missed

Thantsants:

SQC

Shot @ KBP1, wounded 0

RLR

Shot @ TT, wounded 0

CGC

Shot @ TT, wounded 0

SC

Shot @ TT, wounded 0

MM

Shot @ E deviated, missed

Combat Phase

Something not often mentioned in warhammer canon from 4th edition onwards is the awful stench of the cold ones. So great is it that the Dark Elves kill their olfactory nerves with drugs in order to put up with the creatures.

I mention this because, of course, the Wood Elves have not had occasion (or desire) to do the same. Presented, as they were, with Master B'tor and his overexcited cold one, they were overwhelmed by the  terrifying odour of the thing. Despite being pushed back by the slightest of margins, the Wood Elves fled in horror, only to be cut down by the brutal sea captain. Even Seaman Sprayes managed to stab a Wood Elf in the back!

Rogaine snatched potential victory from the Dwarves and Wood Elves by snatching the Percolator from the war wain in a daring high speed robbery - the ultimate outcome leading to the demise of the chariot and the separation of the chariot from its horses. Dwarven infantry, experienced in the unfathomable savagery of horses, watched with suspicion and no small level of discomfort as they realised the bloody creatures were on the loose again!

The Wood Elf captain cut a a heroic silhouette atop the hill as he skillfully defended it against the Witch Elves, pushing them tumbling back down the rocks they had climbed!

Actions

LTK vs WoP

Round 1

Modifiers

LTK

charged, higher ground

WoP

hatred

Attacks

A1 I8

LTK -> DE1 (1W)

A2 I7

LTK -> DE2 (1W)

Results

LTK

+1 (charged) +2 (wounds) = 3

WoP

0

MB vs KBP2

Round 1

Modifiers

MB

charged, hatred

KBP2

none

Attacks

A1 I10

MB -> WE2

A2 I9

MB -> WE2

A3 I8

MB -> WE3

A4 I7

MB -> WE3 (1W)

A1 I6

MB's mount <- WE2

Results

MB

+1 (charged) +1 (wounds) = 2

KBP2

+1 (ranks) = 1

SOC vs KBP2

Round 1

Modifiers

MB

charged, hatred

KBP2

none

Attacks

A1 I6

Seaman Sprayes -> WE4

A1 I6

Seaman Sprayes <- WE4

A1 I6

Seaman Sprayes <- WE5

A4 I5

Seaman Sprayes -> WE5

Results

MB

+1 (charged) = 1

KBP2

+1 (ranks) = 1

RGH vs WL

Round 1

Modifiers

RGH

charged

WL

none

Attacks

A1 I3

War Boar1 -> WL (1W)

A1 I3

War Boar2 -> WL (1W)

A1 I3

War Boar4 -> WL (1W)

A1 I2

Orc1 -> WL (1W)

A1 I2

Orc2 -> WL (1W)

A1 I2

Orc4 -> WL

Results

RGH

+1 (charged) +5 (wounds) = 6

WL

0

Round 2

Modifiers

RGH

none

WL

none

Attacks

A1 I3

War Boar1 -> WL (1W)

A1 I3

War Boar2 -> WL

A1 I3

War Boar4 -> WL

A1 I2

Orc1 -> WL

A1 I2

Orc2 -> WL

A1 I2

Orc4 -> WL (1W)

Results

RGH

+2 (wounds) = 2

WL

0

***

Strikneen looked over his shoulder. "No way, boss! No way we should take that!" His gaze settled on the positively vile Fireguts and their antagonistic leader, Gaversconne. "Did you hear what he jes' called us?"

He looked back at Rogaine to see what he planned to do about it. Rogaine seemed to have other things on his mind.

"Rogaine? Rogaine! Did you hear him? He called you a-"

"CHARGE!" Rogaine roared.

"No, he didn't call you a char... oh. Right, okay.  You meant charge, as in charge at the elves, okay." Strikneen issued a savage kick to his boar as Rogaine and his boar riders thundered ahead of him in a cacophony of whoops, squeals and grunts.

***

Sebbast Iyanvettl grimaced as he watched the orcs issue chase. "Ready yourselves!" he yelled to the rest of the crew. Cracking the whip just above the rump of the desperate horses, he screeched the secret elven words he'd learned from his horse whispering master.

"Gerronwivit! Oritztheglufac toreeferya!"

Hooves pounded.

Heels kicked.

Whips cracked.

Riders whooped.

In the end, even the secret words of power were not enough to escape the wrath of the orcs as they descended on the hapless chariot.

***

Rogaine grinned at his elven counterpart as eye contact was made. Rogaine loved the chase. The only thing better was a high speed fight. He waved his sword in challenge and drew up next to the chariot.

***

How inelegant these creatures are, thought Sebbast, as he watched the silly bouncing of the massive orc on the squealing boar. How the gods tolerate these very stains on our existence I will never know...

***

Rogaine feigned a lunge with his sword, causing Sebbast to lean backwards, hanging onto the reigns to keep his balance. The effect was enough to slow the horses, giving Rogaine and his boys enough time to encircle the chariot, raining blow after blow on elf and chariot alike.

Suddenly, there was a gap in the elven defenses. Rogaine's eyes narrowed as he perceived the little chest bouncing cheerfully on the floor of the racing chariot. Pulling his boar right up to the chariot, inches away from its thundering wheel, he elbowed Sebbast out of the way, scooping the little box up into the air with the flat of his blade. Both the elf and the orc watched as the box arced up into the air.

Time slowed as a gnarled, dirty orc hand unfolded beneath the box. As it unfolded, a small flat piece of wood cracked against Rogaine's bare palm.

The pain was excrutiating. Whipping his hand back, Rogaine roared in rage as the box dropped back into the chariot.

But the elf, having slapped Rogaine's palm, was not done. He continued the downward motion, slapping the wood against the rump of Rogaine's boar. The creature started in fright, heaving straight into the chariot before falling beneath the wheel, taking Rogaine with it!

***

Sebbast sneered as he slammed his wooden ruler into the open palm of the brute. Years of being a school teacher had uniquely equipped him with the ability to deliver a critical strike to an unsuspecting hand, stopping mischief both in the school room and now on the battlefield. He grinned as he watched the shock spread across the giant orc's face: nothing that small had the right to hurt so much! They all have the same expression, he thought. Kids and orcs alike.

His undoing was capitalising on the next opportunity: as the orc leaned back, Sebbast carried his precision strike down to the boar, slapping its rump with a resounding crack. The boar pushed into the chariot, causing the orc to bash against the rail, before both rider and boar vanished from sight.

Now a chariot at high speed running into a stone, say, the size of a mouse, would cause a significant jolt to machine and crew. Were the stone a little larger, perhaps something like a load of bread, the wheel and chariot might lurch into the air - assuming the wheel survived the impact.

A chariot rolling over a rabid pig and his twenty-two stone master is a whole different kettle of fish. The entire chariot launched itself into the air, both wheels spinning freely. Casual observers would later remark that the chariot would have cleared four and a half feet at the highest point of its short flight.

***

Time ground to a halt as Rogaine perceived the sudden silence. Above him, a chariot flew. There was motion, but it was slow - so slow. The wheels turned slightly. There was a slow creak. Spraying sand and tufts of grass floated in his vision. From somewhere behind or below him there came an almost indignant squawk - was that Piggles? A semi-circle of slobber hovered in the air. Something glinted above him. Was it Percolator? He watched his bleeding knuckles slowly - ponderously - claw into the air.

His hand came away with a silver metal object.

***

Sebbast knew that the orc had gone under the chariot. That much was evident by the four foot leap the chariot had taken. His concern wasn't for the chariot landing; it was a good elven chariot and had been built from the boughs from one thousand year old silver oaks - it would be fine. His concerns were twofold: one - no part of his body was touching the chariot, and two - no part of the little box Percolator was in was touching the chariot. As his body tipped forwards, he realised that he would be fortunate - the chariot was underneath him and he'd land, painfully, back in it.

But as he tumbled, he perceived the box through his flailing legs. It floated gracefully backwards, its trajectory carrying it neatly to the orc leader, still rolling after being spat out from under the chariot.

***

Gripping the metal tightly, Rogaine rolled once more, this time reaching his hand out to steady his landing, meaning that he should stop on he's knees. He felt the jolt in his shoulder as his hand carried the impact of the hit straight through his massive frame. But he was upright.

His quick eyes caught sight of the elegant little box driving through the air towards him. Instinct kicked in. He'd played fullback on the tribes bugry team for years, and knew better than any other how to keep cool when catching a ball under pressure. Rising up from his knees and into the air in one swift motion, he caught the box squarely in his arms, hugging it to his chest before the thudded back into the ground.

***

Sebbast cursed. As he belly flopped into the chariot's base, he caught sight of the orc catching the Percolator. He registered the confusion on the orcs face as it held up a long silver object. Sebbast's eyes focussed on it - that looked strangely like a-

The air was rent with the sound of a splintering snap.

-like a locking bolt. For the axle. Where'd he get that from?

***

Rogaine, still clutching the box, squinted at the long bolt in his hands. Not the Percolator, then. Looking past the bolt, he made eye contact with Sebbast, lying as he was on his belly in the chariot. Just before the chariot flipped, Rogaine learned an elven expletive:

"Oh Faaaaaaaarrk!"

***

Reserves Phase

The reserves phase was everything you hoped it would be: troops in reserve moved.

Again, curiously, both Wood Elves and Goblins turned their backs on the fighting lines as they faced threats (real and potential) to their rears.

Oh, and two drug-addled, adrenaline fuelled, over-zealous goblin fanatics lurched forth from their containing unit as it moved into range of the Dwarf right flank. Each managed to add one entry to the obituaries in The Daily Chainmail.

Actions

GM:

WL

Skidded forward 3" @ rock

WLH

Moved 8" @ left bridge

Airbornegrove:

KBP1

Wheeled from the center 2" (complex manoeuvre)

I

Moved forward 3", changed formation to 5 files, failed 2nd manoeuvre

F

Moved forward 3"

S

Moved forward 3"

Thantsants:

F1

Moved forward 8" @ S, wounded 1

F2

Moved forward 9" @ S, wounded 1

W

Moved forward 5" @ RGH

K3C

Moved forward 2.5", halted within 4" of enemy

CGC

Turned around

Magic Phase

With the Mystic Mist still in place, Wineghum called on his darkest knowledge and summoned forth the  dead to serve him. Unfickle sorcery cares not for its candidates, as the flesh shrived off the bodies of Wood and Dark Elves alike. The deceased float, crawl and run across the field to stand to attention before their new master...

And the dwarves shoot a fireball.

C'mon - its fantasy. There's gotta be a fireball, right? The dwarven left flank reveals its magic standard, but unfortunately, fails to inflict any casualties on the Orc cavalry.

Actions

Airbornegrove:

F

Shot fireball @ RGH, wounded 0

Thantsants:

W

Summoned 13 skeletons, 26 MP remaining

Well there you have it. Combat! Objectives being met! High speed chariot stunts! The dead raised! And all in turn 2!

Turn 3 promises to be explosive!

Battle Navigator

Prologue
Meet The Contestants
Rules and Deployment
Turn 1
Turn 2 (you are here)
Turn 3
Turn 4
Turn 5
Turn 6
Turn 7
Turn 8
Turn 9
Turn 10
Epilogue