Bargain Basement End Times (Part II)

We leave the Chaos Knights in their poorly-positioned slaughter and Lord Heckled Allbrass' confused attempts to goad the trolls into charging distance, and turn to Duke Rollo the Northman and his knights...

The brightly coloured blob near the centre is the Normans charging the Ironbreaker Sheildwall

The wind whipped at the manes of the horses as Duke Rollo's picked knights cantered towards the dwarven battleline. The Duke himself frowned, keenly aware that the only path ahead was held by the Ironbreakers, most stalwart of the dwarfs. No matter, he was committed now, and had to trust in the lances and steeds of his brethren to overcome the foe. He spurred his steed to a gallop.

Battlecries and the scream of horses filled the air as the knights crashed on the Dwarven shieldwall like a wave. They swarmed around the tightly packed formation like steel hornets, felling many brave dwarfs with well-placed thrusts of their lances, but the dwarves held.* Rollo urged his men back for another round, but the force of the charge was lost and the knights were driven off.

Run Away!

Urist the Unit Champion turned to address his warriors with a look of pride: "Well done lads, now we'll just stand here for the rest of the battle and wait for them to charge us again."

"Surely," protested Ivan the Incredulous (incredulously) "it would be more tactically expedient to pursue them, and force them to fight without the benefit of their lance-charges."

The Ironbreakers looked puzzled, unused as they were to the concept of a fluid battlefield, but nonetheless they followed their captain as he led them into the heart of the Chaos Horde.

The Rune of Slowness keeps the Chaos warriors from charging the hammerers...

Things were looking up, thought Bjorn Bennisson as he surveyed the battlefield from the hilltop, bacon sandwich in hand. The cavalry on the right flank had been repulsed, and the Ironbreakers seemed to be pressing them so close that they could not rally for a second charge. The Longbeards to their left were in fine form, complaining that skirmish screens nowadays were not as effective as the ones back in their day as they surged in pursuit, catching the warriors behind on the back foot.

The skirmishers are thrown forward to clear a charge for the Chaos Warriors. In theory.

His gaze moved to the other side of the ruin, where berserk servants of the dark gods hurled themselves at the Dwarven King and his bodyguard. As they approached, something strange happened: their cries became distant and distorted, and their movement slowed, almost as if they were frozen to the spot. The powerful Rune of Slowness carried by the Hammerers was proving its worth against another unwary foe. 

"Right, my head's much better now, drop a ball on those nasty red blokes over there." He ordered, brown sauce dripping as he gestured with his sandwich-arm. The cannon gave a sharp report, flinging a ball of iron to smash a bloody path through the warriors beyond. Bjorn nodded to himself: That was an excellent shot there. 

"Err, Captain, I think I know where that barrel of Bugman's XXXXX went last night." one of the gunners called. The keg he had opened to reload the cannon held somthing far wetter than gunpowder ought to be.

Bjorn sighed, "Back to the baggage train then, we'll have to go and get some more gunpowder then..."

The Marauder Horsemen Champion is gifted by the Dark Gods moments before he flees the field. Curses.

Across the field the swarms of light horsemen gathered themselves and charged toward the miners. Snorri Coal-face read the instructions on his blasting charge: "Light blue torch paper and throw. Do not stick up nose. Right lads, on the count of three!"

The first wave of marauders was lost in a cloud of smoke and fire. Horses screamed, ears rang with the report, and barely a third of the riders came out of the blast alive. The leader of the second squadron, Drognar the Disgusting, saw the disaster and spurred his mouldy, flea bitten steed to the aid of his fellows. He was too late to save the ragged survivors of the blasting charges, but with a terrible cry he levelled his axe at the Fore-dwarf in vengence: "Come test your blade with mine, worthy foe! I must buy revenge for my fellows with your blood!"

Snorri was petrified by the hideous cheif atop his putrid steed. He stammered; "Erm, well I'm afraid union rules allow me only one single combat per financial year-"

But it was too late, as Drognar's axe cleft his helm in twain and he knew no more. A dark and fell wind arose, and clouds briefly covered the sun. From Drognar's right arm a horrible, bloated stinger sprouted forth, the length of a sword and dripping with venom. "The Gods favour us! Onward to glory-oh."

He turned to urge his riders to greater feats of arms and saw they had been slain to a man by the disciplined miners, hewing with their pickaxes like they were working a difficult coal seam. Discretion, it seemed, might be the better part of valour in this case... He turned his horse and fled, an oath of vengeance upon his lips.

The dwarves' pursuit of the skirmish screen leaves them in a perfect position to charge the chaos warriors. Curses!

*This is mostly artistic license: What actually happened was that I caused a few casualties, but the rank bonus of the dwarfs meant the combat was a draw. In these circumstances, if only one of the fighting units has a musician, it counts as winning the combat by one. The Chaos player, who had neglected to pay the points for a seemingly useless upgrade made a very ungentlemanly exclamation at this juncture.