Post by winstonsmith on Apr 16, 2014 18:17:27 GMT
Yesterday I managed to get a 750 point game against Damon's Dwarves. It was the first time my Chaos Warriors had been used and a good opportunity to try them out before the campaign. So here it is, an encounter at Serpent's Vale...
The dwarven general watched the setting sun through the jungle canopy and sighed. He missed the raw rugged landscape of home, perhaps more so now that he might never gaze upon its carved stone halls again. His enigmatic smile brought strange looks from his kinsmen but he had got them this far and they trusted him without question. With grim resignation the dwarves drew up their battle line for the final time, a wall of iron and stone against a sea of unimaginable hate. In the fading light it would not be easy to see the creeping corruption that always heralded the murderous onslaught of the enemy. Their pursuit had been unrelenting and now the end had come.
There was no warning. Slavering warhounds leapt from the shadows with feral speed to fall upon unready thunderers as warriors of chaos and a blood soaked chariot crashed through the recoiling undergrowth. Above, the reassuring rumble of a gyrocopter steadied the dwarven line a little as several hounds fell to its hiss of blistering steam. Undaunted, the beasts came on regardless. Leaving the thunderers to settle their own fate, doomed slayers raised their great axes with the growl of a mountain storm. The fated warriors sought a worthier opponent, but their bold advance fell short of the monstrous chariot and they could only watch with muted rage as the warmachine crashed into their ranks. Seeing the dwarven line disintegrating about him the thane charged into the very heart of darkness. Before him stood his hated adversary and with the last light fading there would be a reckoning. With unnatural speed the chaos champion swung his screaming blade down upon the dwarf but his murderous blows were turned by ancient runic armour. Unforgotten grudges now burned bright and the dwarven axe was sure and true, tearing through the tainted breastplate and chainmail of the enemy to shatter flesh and bone beneath. The warrior fell with a single blow but it was not enough to turn the tide of battle. About him his loyal kinsmen were falling and against such violent hate even stone may break. And so it was that the bravery of the dwarves was undone. As the sun surrendered its throne to shadow a silence descended upon the field of battle, a silence broken only by the retreating rumble of a gyrocopter fated to carry home a tale of sorrow and defeat.
Well that's how I remembered it anyway!
The dwarven general watched the setting sun through the jungle canopy and sighed. He missed the raw rugged landscape of home, perhaps more so now that he might never gaze upon its carved stone halls again. His enigmatic smile brought strange looks from his kinsmen but he had got them this far and they trusted him without question. With grim resignation the dwarves drew up their battle line for the final time, a wall of iron and stone against a sea of unimaginable hate. In the fading light it would not be easy to see the creeping corruption that always heralded the murderous onslaught of the enemy. Their pursuit had been unrelenting and now the end had come.
There was no warning. Slavering warhounds leapt from the shadows with feral speed to fall upon unready thunderers as warriors of chaos and a blood soaked chariot crashed through the recoiling undergrowth. Above, the reassuring rumble of a gyrocopter steadied the dwarven line a little as several hounds fell to its hiss of blistering steam. Undaunted, the beasts came on regardless. Leaving the thunderers to settle their own fate, doomed slayers raised their great axes with the growl of a mountain storm. The fated warriors sought a worthier opponent, but their bold advance fell short of the monstrous chariot and they could only watch with muted rage as the warmachine crashed into their ranks. Seeing the dwarven line disintegrating about him the thane charged into the very heart of darkness. Before him stood his hated adversary and with the last light fading there would be a reckoning. With unnatural speed the chaos champion swung his screaming blade down upon the dwarf but his murderous blows were turned by ancient runic armour. Unforgotten grudges now burned bright and the dwarven axe was sure and true, tearing through the tainted breastplate and chainmail of the enemy to shatter flesh and bone beneath. The warrior fell with a single blow but it was not enough to turn the tide of battle. About him his loyal kinsmen were falling and against such violent hate even stone may break. And so it was that the bravery of the dwarves was undone. As the sun surrendered its throne to shadow a silence descended upon the field of battle, a silence broken only by the retreating rumble of a gyrocopter fated to carry home a tale of sorrow and defeat.
Well that's how I remembered it anyway!
