Bargain Basement End Times (Part III: Finale)

We left our previous instalment as the infantry of both sides were poised to clash in the centre of the field. The Dwarves (in defiance of conventional logic) have managed to charge both units of chaos warriors: One caught unexpectedly by pursuit of fleeing skirmishers, the other held in place by magic for the perfect counter-blow.

The Rune of Slowness borne by the hammerers barely prevents my warriors from charging, allowing the Dwarves to seize the initiative. Things start to fall apart for the Hordes of Chaos

Seeing the foe caught by the magic of his bodyguards' runic standard, Baldrick Bravelegs sounded the charge. As the chaos warriors and stout dwarves smote each other with mighty blows, the standard bearer of the chaos host shouted a barely coherent challenge and began to swing a large flail over his head. Trusting in the runes carved by his ancestors, Baldrick indicated to his bearers to meet this braggart. The warrior advanced confidently, sure that his superhuman reflexes would better any dwarf and was had just enough time to say "Oh, fiddlesticks" before Baldrick's hammer, with rune of swiftness gleaming in unearthly light, struck him down. 

The melee raged on, the warriors of chaos each fighting with grim determination and the experience of lifetimes, but they could not match the numbers and leadership of the dwarves, and all were slain. Across the rapidly emptying battlefield, King Barldrick caught sight of Heckled Allbrass, leader of the chaos host, goading a group of trolls to advance.

Ironbreakers charge both knights and chariot, overrunning all in their path.

Urist the Unit Champion was running out of puff. Fighting against mounted knights was one thing, but all this running after them was exhausting. Nonetheless, he was glad to have caught the chariot at  a standstill, its scythed wheels still and its horses kept in place by their yoke. He was glad he was not fighting the chaos warriors to his right, who despite their ever dwindling numbers still hacked with their terrible halberds at their foes. They died where they stood, each facing their end with a disturbing ennui, dulled as they were to the horrors of the world.

The Knights finally get into a charging position, while the grudge thrower lands a rock on top of my general.

Sword arm drenched in blood up to the elbow, Sir Rupert looked around for a fresh group of dwarves to slaughter. Spying a regiment on the other side of the hill, he called to his musician:"Sound the reform, face left!" His second leaned over and broke the bad news, "I'm afraid we don't have one, sir. We decided to save on 10 points, not knowing that we'd be unable to swift reform, and perform a move after turning on completion of a successful leadership test.*" "Curse!" Cried de Poncy, aghast at the delay. He turned to his troops, and began to organise the bloodthirsty warriors back into formation.

The charge was slow and fraught with peril. Though unmolested by dwarven missiles, one of the riders caught his immaculately coiffured hair in the branches of a tree and worse, broke a nail attempting to  untangle it. Sir Rupert, ever the compassionate leader, allowed his man to retire to camp to fix himself at once.** 

They reached the ranks of another regiment of Dwarven warriors and fell upon them like steel wolves. Not even the presence of the noted Runesmith Marek Thunderbelt was enough to steady their ranks and withstand the murderous onslaught. Their loss was not in vain however, for when the knights had finished their blood frenzy, they were formed neatly in front of the Dwarves' Organ Gun.

When the smoke cleared, Sir Rupert was left with but two of his knights. Rather put out by this distressing turn of events, he suggested to his men, "I'm sure our comrades can clear the battlefield of riff-raff unaided, what say we pillage the enemy baggage?" "Huzzah!" his troops concurred, and off they rode into the sunset. 

The dice indicate the number of hits scored. Suffice to say, the knights routed.

Lord Allbrass was not feeling his best. A large stone, engraved with his various crimes against the hold, had struck him on the helm and only his supernatural resilience saved him from death. He saw that the battle went ill, and it was with a heavy heart that he goaded his monstrous companions to charge the Dwarven King and his bodyguard, indicating to Duke Rollo's spearmen to join him and turn the flank. Great and terrible was the battle between the trolls, dwarfs and men, and mighty blows were exchanged on either side, and were turened aside on stout armour or grew whole in moments. The two great champions of their peoples exchanged mighty blows, and they would have been evenly matched had the Chaos Warrior not been so injured. 

As it was he fell beneath his foe's hammer, the last fleeting vision of his helm showing him enthroned on the burning cities of the old world, crowned by the Dark Gods themselves...

The last two Chaos units are routed, the spearmen caught and killed by pursuit.

Snorri had never felt worse, what had he drunk last night to give him such a splitting pain in his head? He groaned feebly and stirred, trying to shake the headache away. Gradually, he became aware of voices calling his name, and remembered the battle. Jerking himself alert, he opened his eyes to survey the field before him. Where once had stood a terrible host of dark warriors now lay only corpses and broken shields. The last remaining warriors were routing in panic in the face of such a crushing defeat. "We won, then?" he asked one of his fellows, who solemnly nodded as he sponged at the nasty-looking wound Snorri bore on his crown. "I hope I get danger pay for this, It's the last time I set foot above ground in a long while!" 

The only unit still on the table. This is probably the most crushing defeat ever.

So there you have it. The forces of order are victorious, the Old World lives on, and no-one has to play Age of Sigmar at all. Not all bad then.

Paul: The man with the winning battle-plan.

*Again, I must confess I did not take this epiphany with good grace

**As you can see, I don't think much of the difficult terrain rules in 8th edition.

I'll get you next time!

Sorry it took so blasted long to get this written, but in the time I've not been blogging I've been painting, and there are some fun things to show you all...