Battle Story: The Clash at Daemonhyde

[KiltedMarine]

Hey, brothers- I had the chance to test out an 1850 list on Tuesday night against a buddy's Chaos army. I'm not much of a hand at the usual battle report, and in this case I didn't take good enough notes to write one accurately, but I can write a good story, and I remember what happened, just not entirely in detail. So, here's my crack at describing the action a la William King or Dan Abnett...

 

DEPLOYMENT

 

Diarmid mac Faolc looked down into the valley of M'havey, his helm cradled under his left arm, his wolf claws powered down. Ochre dust blew in waves over the scene, and far-off he could hear the faintest thudding, fading in and out as the gusting breezes shifted.

 

"I hate walkers." The comment earned him no response from the black-armored brother standing at his left. "Fleet says they've got a Vindicator, as well. I hope we brought enough lascannons to deal with them all." That earned him a grunt. For one of the Bardii, Duncan Stormcrow spoke little. Diarmid suspected it was a conscious tactic- radiating authority was easier if you didn't yammer- but he had to admit that the older man's charisma was palpable.

 

The traitors had to be stopped before they could link up with the forces already fighting the rest of Third Company outside the walls of Arecaceae Wells, the major urbanization on the continent. The traitor force was known to include elements from the warband of the former Thousand Son "Lord Arachnis," as well as a detachment of the Flawless Legion sent most likely as an escort. Diarmid caught the first, weakest whiff of corruption on the wind, and his hearts began to beat faster. Arachnis's head would make a fine trophy in the feast hall.

 

As if hearing his thoughts, Stormcrow spoke, his voice low and even. "Enough lascannons or not, the Vindicator and their cursed daemon-engine must be destroyed. Our brothers are counting on us to do it. Besides," Diarmid heard a fanged grin enter the Bard's tone, and felt himself smiling the same way, "that's what meltabombs are for."

 

Diarmid turned, and the two Astartes shared a look. To the Wolf Guard, it felt as though the Bard's cold grey eyes were looking into the depths of his skull, and reading what was written on the back wall. Despite his own century in the service of the Emperor and Pwyll, the searching look sent a shiver through him. He held the Bard's gaze, though, and after a moment the older man placed a sable-gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "Prove yourself to our Chieftain by accomplishing this deed. I stand with you, and I will sing the tale proudly before the Swifthand. He gave you the aid of two of our Cauldron-brawdi, and named you rig-fennid of this band. He has confidence." Diarmid nodded, the looked past the Bard toward the assembled fian, a hundred yards distant. The Brothers of the Fire Dragon and the Stone Bear, both hardened packs of experienced warriors, milled about their rhinos, trading barbs with each other. The Raven-Brothers, with their Razorback, sang together, and Diarmid realized after a moment's listening that they sang his saga. The realization made his chest swell at the same time it humbled him- their own pack leader Owain had a saga nearly as long himself. The grizzled veterans of the Thunder-Brawdi cleaned their heavy weapons whilst arguing good-naturedly over where they ought to set up on the battle site. Duncan apCawdor and Liam the Deathless stood with the preternatural stillness that only a dreadnought could, and finally Diarmid's eyes rested on the Wolf-brawdi, the youngest pack, the ones still trying to earn battle-names. It looked like Gwalchmei Bloodhawk, himself a youngster amongst the Company's Wolf Guard, was reinforcing his authority over the pups by thrashing his most recent challenger in a wrestling match. By his laughter and the broad grin on his face, he was loving every moment of it.

 

My fian. My men. As Diarmid strode back toward them, his grin gradually widened. Yes, if they used them right, they did have enough lascannons...

[old git]

Have you recently finished reading the Arthurian saga by Stephen Lawhead?

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Hmm... I'm going to use my masterful powers of observation to guess that your space wolf force is based on the Irish. Just a guess.

 

Well written, I could understand it because of my research into the cultures and histories of Ireland and England, but there are those who aren't so I would suggest putting up an army list with the normal SW codex names beside the ones you have invented.

 

Now, where's the actual battle? I want to see some skull-taking here!

[KiltedMarine]

Old Git- no, I haven't actually read Lawhead's take on the legend. Sounds like I'll enjoy it, though...

 

Jonas- I see you managed to piece together my subtle hints. :) The force is supposed to be Irish/Welsh/Scottish in flavor. The Irish influence is the most easily-identified strain.

 

So here's the list:

 

HQ: Diarmid Mac Faolc- WGBL, paired WCs, WtN, SotWB

 

HQ: Duncan Stormcrow- WP, WtN

 

Elite: Liam the Deathless- Dreadnought, Plasma Cannon, ex. armor

 

Elite: Duncan apCawdor- Dreadnought, twin lascannon, ex. armor

 

Elite: Wolf Guard Pack Leaders (4), named with their squads

 

Troops: Stone Bear Brawdi ("brothers" in mangled Welsh)- 9 Grey Hunters, plasmagun, PF, Rhino

Led by Liam Coldeyes, combi-plasma and PW

 

Troops: Fire Dragon Brawdi- 9 GHs, meltagun, PW, MotW, Rhino

Led by Fionn Dragon's-breath, combi-melta, PF

 

Troops: Raven Brawdi- 5 GHs, plasmagun, plasma pistol, PW, Razorback w/twin Hvy Bolters

Led by Owain Ice-moon, PW

 

Troops: Wolf Brawdi- 9 Blood Claws, meltagun, PW

Led by Gwalchmei Bloodhawk, PW

 

Heavy: Thunder-Brawdi- 5 Long Fangs- 2x HB, LasC, PlasmaC, Razorback w/twin LasC

 

Heavy: Nuada's Chariot- Land Raider Crusader, extra armor

 

My opponent fielded:

 

HQ: Lord Arachnis- Chaos Lord, Bike, Mark of Tzeentch, Tzeentch Daemon Weapon

 

HQ: Fabius Bile

 

???: Greater Daemon

 

Elite: Chaos Dreadnought w/ML

 

Elite: Chaos Dreadnought w/ML

 

Elite: Chaos Dreadnought w/ML

 

Troops: 8 Chaos Marines, Asp. Champ. w/PW, Mark of Slaanesh, Rhino (Bile as a ride-along)

 

Troops: 9 Chaos Marines, Asp. Champ. w/PW, Mark of Slaanesh, Rhino

 

NOTE: Both Troops units had been "upgraded" by Bile- The smaller unit got a 6 at start, gaining +2S, and lost one Marine at the end of each of his turns. The larger unit got merely +1S for the game.

 

Fast Attack: 4 Chaos Marine Bikers, meltagun, Mark of Tzeentch.

 

Heavy: Defiler w/twin LasC

 

Heavy: Chaos Vindicator

 

Seeing he only had two troops choices, I hoped for an objective-based game. Alas, he rolled a 5 and got "Annihilation." :( Fortunately, I then rolled table quarters as the deployment format- don't remember the actual title. Terrain on the table, heavy on tall rocky ridges we agreed would be largely impassable, would allow me to at least focus him in a bit of a bottleneck, if I played it right. If I played it wrong, of course, he'd be able to do the same to me...

 

By the grace of Russ and the Emperor, I won the roll to take first turn, and he deployed.

[KiltedMarine]

DEPLOYMENT, FINALIZED

 

As a dust-laden breeze moaned through the valley around them, a pack of five grizzled Astartes loped with long, easy strides from the hatch of their Razorback toward a tall rock outcrop. They carried as much firepower between them as a company of Guardsmen might, and bore the weight of the heavy weapons with no sign of burden or significant effort. Their leader, Donn of the Nine Wounds, urged them along to a position just below the crest of the rise, and scanned the horizon as his packmates set up their firing positions. He shook his head and took the Emperor's name seriously in vain. Beside him, his brother Bran apGoch looked up from the status readout of his lascannon. "It can't be that bad, brawd."

 

"Oh, aye, it can. The Swifthand sent us out here to :mellow: all nowhere to kill a thrice- Defiler and a Vindicator. He didn't say :cuss -all about any :cuss ing dreadnoughts." Bran didn't question his pack leader's assessment- they had fought together for close to two centuries, and if 'Niner said he saw dreadnoughts, Bran trusted his eyes. Instead, he laughed, and turned to the rest of the pack.

 

"Good news, boys- 'Niner says we're spoiled for targets!"

 

* * *

 

Standing in the pintle hatch of Nuada's Chariot, Diarmid focused his armor's autosenses on the front line of the approaching traitor convoy. The Defiler, a spindly-limbed arachnoid monstrosity of tarnished bronze, loomed over the rest of the Chaos force. Out ahead of the vehicles, a trio of dreadnoughts had apparently spotted Diarmid's own forces, as they ran forward in a clanking, smoking mockery of a living man's berserkergang. Just behind them, apparently intending to use the dreadnoughts as a stalking horse, Diarmid spotted a squadron of... spiders? The Wolf Guard's lip curled back in a snarl as he saw the twisted form of the former Thousand Son Lord Arachnis, his lower body replaced by the glistening iridescent body and spindly, taloned legs of a huge spider. The Chaos lord scuttled forward at the head of five traitors mounted on similarly overgrown spiders, moving with unnatural speed over the broken ground. Behind them, the Vindicator and two Rhinos lumbered forward, kicking up clouds of tawny dust. Diarmid's snarl broadened into a feral grin, and he growled orders to his fian over the comm-net.

 

++Owain, swing right- move 'round from that side to cover the Thunder-Brawdi's flank. Duncan and Liam, provide support on that side. Put pressure on them to push them into the gap. Stone Bears and Fire Dragons, with me up the middle. Pump all the fire you've got into the war machines.++ He stifled a chuckle. ++After they're taken care of, we can get to the fun part of cutting these traitors into crow-feed.++ A roar of assent came up from within the Land Raider below him- the Wolf-Brawdi were nearly foaming at the mouth.

 

Stormcrow cut in on the channel. ++Remember beloved Cymru of the green hills; remember the names of your fathers and uncles; remember the sacrifice of the Emperor for us all. Together, brawdi, for Him on Terra and all Humanity- Faugh A Ballagh!!!++

 

The war-cry echoed across the wind-swept plain, and the Hounds of Arawn rushed forward to battle, the Saga of Diarmid the wolf's-son ringing from a score of throats.

[KiltedMarine]

TURN ONE

 

Within the armored shell of the Boar Spear, Padraig of the Winter Hunt listened to the singing of his brothers and cursed his luck. Had he rolled even three points higher the night before, it would be Leod sitting here, cooped up behind armor plate. Well, I'll just have to do something to show the rest of 'em up, then, won't I?

 

He swung the Razorback's twin lascannons into position, ignoring the dreadnoughts setting the crosshairs dead center at the root of the cannon barrel on the Vindicator. His finger hovered on the trigger, and he called over the pack's comm line- +Vindicator, 200 meters- firing!+ He heard 'Niner snarl an oath at him- something about who the :cuss ing pack leader was- and fired. A pair of blue-white lines of searing light flashed across the valley, and touched the front glacis of the Vindicator's armor. The soot- and blood-stained metal vaporized instantly with a ringing clap like metallic thunder, and the blue light-spear punched through the hole that opened into the vehicle's ammunition store. The rounds within detonated with a second, ground-shaking explosion, and the vehicle disappeared in a flash of flame and a roiling cloud of oily black smoke.

 

The rest of his pack, as if to try to save face, opened fire in the next instant. Colin's plasmacannon struck one of the Rhinos, scorching its armor and causing its driver to slew, and Bran's lascannon struck one of the dreadnoughts a blow to the arm, but the machine kept coming, the traitor entombed within screaming for blood.

 

On the Long Fangs' right, the Deathless replied with his own howl, and loosed a gout of plasma at the spider-riding traitors. Arachnis and his coterie leaped aside, and the roiling energy only cratered the floor of the valley. Duncan apCawdor focused his ire on the Defiler, and struck the daemon-engine athwart its midsection, eliciting a roar of inchoate rage. The Raven-Brawdi came up behind the two dreadnoughts, and poured fire from their Razorback's heavy bolters into the spider riders, blowing one of the Warp-bloated creatures apart.

 

The traitor dreadnoughts responded with fire of their own at the Long Fangs. Leod swore as one of their krak missiles detonated scant centimeters from his head. He turned to Bran, a few feet away. "I'll gladly keep the buggy ones off you, if you can be troubled to please KILL THOSE POXY DREADS!" The lascannoneer shot him a hurt look.

 

"Just because you decided to bring that great tupping popgun instead of a real weapon is no reason to yell. I'm working on it, Pwyll be praised!" They, and their packmates, all instinctively ducked as another krak missile flew past, then again when a frag shell from a havoc launcher exploded, sending shards of hot metal clanging against their armor. To their left, the main body of the fian surged forward, past the Boar Spear and into the open ground in the center of the valley.

 

The spider riders rushed toward the rhinos and Nuada's Chariot, and two gouts of melta fire belched forth. The Land Raider's armor proved too thick for the weapons to have any effect, and the Hounds within bayed for blood.

 

Summary- LFs killed Chaos Vindicator, stunned one dreadnought, shook one Rhino. Dreadnoughts shook Defiler. GHs killed one biker. Enemy forces got nothing.

 

Score: Hounds 1, Chaos 0

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Nicely written so far. One thing though, does he really have spider-centaur thingies for bikers, or is that just artistic license? 'Cause if he has 'em I want pics.

[KiltedMarine]

Lord Arachnis is actually a spider-centaur. The "bikers" are (or are planned to be, at any rate) Chaos Marines standing on the backs of giant spiders and holding reins. He only has one of them constructed. Alas, I have no pics. In point of fact, the vast majority of his army is unbuilt at present- he played with a LOT of proxies.

[KiltedMarine]

TURN TWO

 

The Stormcrow's deep, sonorous baritone carried over the squad comm-channel, and many of the Wolf-Brawdi joined in, their own voices audible over their voxcasters. They were singing the Roxxen Saga, specifically Diarmid's own tale from that campaign, and the sound of it filled the Wolf Guard with pride. He stood facing the assault ramp, watching the battle through the vehicle's external sensors via the command link in his helmet, and his hearts pounded in his ears.

 

+-Stood Diarmid 'midst the slaughter

bright blade held high, he howled the cry

that called the brawdi onward

 

+Lumbering came the Xeno beast

and bellowed dreadful thunder

Diarmid glared, his fangs he bared,

and its claws he rent asunder+

 

The spider-riders flashed past the front of the Land Raider, and Diarmid watched their melta weapons flare. He ordered the driver to halt, punched the release on the assault hatch with the back of his hand, and split the squad comm-channel with a piercing howl. The sudden stop half flung him out the still-falling ramp, and as the blazing sunlight fell over his armor, he felt the full battle-joy take him. Behind, the Wolf-Brawdi followed him in a chorus of war-cries, and with the Stormcrow still singing, the Hounds of Arawn fell on Arachnis and his spider-riders with all the bloodthirsty enthusiasm of their namesakes.

 

The traitors turned to face this new threat, rearing their steeds to strike with claw and fang. They fell in a blur of ichor as the Hounds' chainswords bit deep into chitin and corrupted ceramite alike. The Wolf's Son swept the head off of one traitor as he ran toward his true target- the mutant form of Arachnis himself. The Chaos Lord's eight eyes flared with purple and blue balefire, and he swept a burning glaive before him with his two remaining human limbs. Diarmid heard the traitor's voice in his own head, sibilant and reedy. Come, then, mongrel, and receive the death you so clearly crave. Too caught up in the rush of combat to speak, Diarmid merely laughed, and leapt claws-first at his foe.

 

The flickering daemon-light around Arachnis' weapon spread from the blade over the haft, and it met the crackling blades of Diarmid's claws with a resounding crack. Arachnis swung the weapon down overhand in a vicious arc, but found no target- Diarmid stepped aside, still laughing, and stepped inside the Chaos Lord's reach, severing one of Arachnis' blue-black legs with one claw and plunging the other deep into his abdomen. Yellow-green ichor fountained from the wounds, and the former Thousand Son screamed in agony, calling out in an alien tongue for the aid of his fickle master. As he lunged at the Loyalist hero, the balefire spread over his own hands, then up his arms. Taken aback by this sorcery, Diarmid stepped away and took up a guard position, only to realize that Arachnis was still screaming. The flames blackened his armor, and cracked the exoskeleton of his spidery lower body. Seeing his opening, and that the Lord of Change might just deny him a kill, Diarmid plunged his claws through the front of Arachnis' helmet. The screams ceased instantly. Diarmid ripped the head free of the body, and turned back to the squad. The traitors all lay dead, and the ground had been churned into foul greenish mud by the slaughter of the spiders. He grinned at the sight. +Nice start, lads- form up, and we'll move on those Rhinos next.+

 

* * *

 

Liam the Deathless watched his kinsman lead the charge, and vented his envy by blasting the nearest traitor dreadnought with his plasmacannon. The Chaos scum staggered, then buckled and fell under the lascannon blast fired by Duncan, off to his left. ++I'd say nice shot, brawd, but I know it would only make your head swell.++ Static crackled on the comm line, the electronic analogue of laughter, and Duncan replied ++You softenend him up for me.++ More static crackled along the connection, and the two living ancestors of the Chapter reveled for a moment in being brother-warriors again.

 

* * *

 

More to come... turn's not over yet, but at the start of bottom of two, Arachnis was dead (by his own daemon weapon- bad time to roll a "1") along with the bikers. One dread shaken, one destroyed, and the Defiler shaken.

 

Kill Points total: Hounds 4/Chaos 0

[Leardinal]

Your writing is great, I am enjoying reading it. Keep it up! :o

 

Edit: Grammar

[Jonas Stromclaw]

Lord Arachnis is actually a spider-centaur. The "bikers" are (or are planned to be, at any rate) Chaos Marines standing on the backs of giant spiders and holding reins. He only has one of them constructed. Alas, I have no pics. In point of fact, the vast majority of his army is unbuilt at present- he played with a LOT of proxies.

Hmm, well thats vexing. I always found it annoying to play against proxies, especially vehicle/bike ones, the dimensions are never right. Seriously though, I want pics, those models sound like an absolute laugh.

 

Well written, have you taken a look in the short stories sub forum? You should write something for in there.

[Wolf Guard Dan]

Good writing. Good battling!!! Keep it up!

 

Once this battle report is over, make sure to have another battle soon! Maybe against DA or Eldar!

[KiltedMarine]

@Jonas- where is the short story sub-forum? If I could find it, I'd set up a mead-hall and take up residence!

 

TURN TWO, SECOND HALF

 

+Form up, pups- looks like the traitor bastards are going to give us a little exercise!+ Hatches had swung open on the Chaos Rhinos, and the first of the Flawless Host marines had stepped out. Their champion stepped out with languid grace and lifted his gleaming power sword to Diarmid in a gesture of challenge. Behind him, Slaanesh cult marines poured from both transports, pale pink armor gleaming in the sun, the smell of perfume mingling with the stench of rot that all traitors exuded. As the Wolf-Brawdi moved to meet these foes, Diarmid felt unease stir in his belly; there was something wrong here, beyond just the wrongness of the traitors...

 

+On the right!+ Gwalchmei Bloodhawk's warning came an instant too late. Diarmid looked away from the aspiring champion, whose armor seemed... bloated, somehow... and saw a figure from the depths of myth striding out of the right-hand Rhino toward the Hounds. Armor cloaked in a robe of stitched flesh, sallow face punctured by two sunken, burning eyes lit with madness, and with a spidery armature of dripping surgical tools waving over his head, there was only one man who could be leading these traitors. Diarmid's cry of rage and horror was echoed by the Stormcrow and Gwalchmei alike, but before they could act, the traitors were on them.

 

The champion moved with inhuman swiftness- even Diarmid couldn't catch him. The glittering saber swept out, snakelike, and crackled angrily against Diarmid's parry. The cultist's face was swollen, the eyes bloodshot and blazing feverishly. The traitor's blows struck with impossible force. Fabius Bile- here? Diarmid snarled, blocked another thunderous blow from the champion, and resolved to send the daemon-chirurgeon on to his final reward as soon as he figured out how to cut this daemon-wannabe into multiple small pieces.

 

* * *

 

"Remember- maim, don't kill. Geneseed deteriorates very quickly; I want to be able to examine their genetic quirks at leisure, and I'll need lots of samples." Bile gave this order in a conversational tone, the Stormcrow noted, as if sitting in a leisurely planning briefing. One almost couldn't tell he was fighting three of the Wolf Brawdi. The young marines fell with howls of agony to the chirurgeon's darts, or else staggered under the ringing, impossibly strong blows of the cultists' chainswords. Duncan crushed the helmet of one traitor with the crackling head of his powermace, and steeled himself to rush the chirurgeon, when a broken, electronic roar exploded on his right, and he turned to see one of the traitor dreadnoughts bearing down on him, its massive shrieking buzzsaw-arm upraised. Spitting a curse, he dropped the burda and grabbed a meltabomb from the back of his armored belt. Over the comm-net, he began chanting the Emperor's Lorica:

 

+I bind unto myself this day

by power of faith, the Emperor's incarnation;

His holy cause in the unification of Humanity;

His sacrifice above Holy Terra for our salvation;

His entombment in the Golden Throne;

His ascension and unity with the Astronomican.+

 

The clanking, smoking, tarnished bronze behemoth bellowed again, and loomed now over Stormcrow's head. He clutched the meltabomb to his chest and dove beneath the beast's legs.

[Leardinal]

It is a sub-forum of the Librarium forum.

[KiltedMarine]

Gwalchmei Bloodhawk stepped aside of a traitor's frenzied swing, and plunged the crackling point of his powersword up and into the Slaanesh-cultist's neck. The blade passed through the enemy's throat, and Gwalchmei howled in satisfaction as the traitor fell headless to the blood-soaked sand. The howl died almost immediately, for the Bloodhawk's personal victory was hollow.

 

The traitors had fallen on them too quickly, and with Bile's augmentative fluids pumping through their veins, these marines of the Flawless Host could cut an armored Astartes from neck to navel. Too many of the Wolf-Brawdi had fallen, and not enough of the Chaos renegades. The Bloodhawk saw his rig fennid still locked in combat with the chaos Aspiring Champion, and the Stormcrow ducking beneath the huge blade of the Chaos dreadnought, his burda discarded for a meltabomb. In his helmet, he heard the Bard reciting an ancient prayer:

 

+Emperor behind me, Emperor before me,

Emperor above me, Emperor below me,

Emperor at my right hand, Emperor at my left hand,

Emperor to comfort and restore me.+

 

At the intonation of the last line, the Bard lunged, hand outstretched, the meltabomb blinking crimson. In the same instant, Bile raised his pistol, and a venomous dart punched its way into the Bard's neck. The Stormcrow twitched, his nerves overcome by the daemon-chirurgeon's venom, and faltered, the bomb falling from his nerveless fingers. Gwalchmei watched in frozen horror as the dreadnought's blade fell, and struck the Stormcrow in a fountain of gore. The Bard fell, nearly split asunder, and moved no more.

 

A blistering rage welled from the deepest part of the Bloodhawk's being, and he flung himself at the nearest traitor, exulting in the shock that ran up his arm as the Chaos marine's chainsword met his own powersword, then parted before the energy field surrounding the weapon. He bellowed over the comm-net, his shout half a rallying cry, half a lament: +FAUGH A BALLAGH! Fight, brawdi! For Llugh, Cymru, and the Emperor, FIGHT! FAUGH A BALLAGH!!!+ He swung again at the traitor before him, heard his pack take up the cry, and let his rage take hold.

 

* * *

 

Within his armored sarcophagus, Duncan apCawdor felt what remained of his Astartes body wrench in agony as the traitor dreadnought killed the Stormcrow. He wanted to crush the smoking bronze abomination himself, wanted to punch lascannon bolts through its carapace, tear free whatever traitorous flesh lay entombed within, and rip the body into tatters. Finn had been his pack brother a century before, had spoken the Litany of Rebirth for him when he'd been too wounded to fight on, and had been the first brother to greet him when he awoke within the sarcophagus that had been his body ever since. But vengeance could not be his, not while the enemy was out of reach and locked in combat with the rest of the Wolf-Brawdi- he couldn't risk hitting one of the young ones. Instead, he brought crosshairs to bear on the Defiler, and prayed to the Emperor for revenge. On his right, Liam the Deathless shrugged off a glancing strike from the engine's lascannons.

 

* * *

 

During the bottom of Turn Two, the traitors killed Finn Stormcrow and savaged the Blood Claw pack horribly. Fire from his dreadnought and the Rhinos did nothing, and the Defiler's lascannons struck Liam the Deathless but failed to even glance.

 

Kill Points total: Hounds 4/Chaos 1