Fictionalized Battle Report - The Shadowsword goes forth

[Warsmith Aznable]

The Shadowsword super-heavy assault gun churned forward with cautious urgency. The burned out frames of high-rises were less frequent; the smaller piles of rubble and foundations meant they were entering the suburban outskirts. The enemy would be near.

Captain Mann sat low in his command hatch with one eye on his tactical displays and another scanning for the signs of near ambush as his gargantuan machine rolled down the narrow street. The stakes were too high and the danger too real for the vainglorious posturing many super-heavy commanders indulged in. That morning his crew had assisted in destroying a group of renegade Imperial Knights who had wandered unsupported into this very area. His gut told him it had merely been a scouting party, and super-heavy walkers did not scout for anything lesser than other super-heavies. A combination of fear and excitement ran through him as he considered the prospect of laying his gun on Titan-class war engines.

“Atkins, stop us between these two tall buildings.” Captain Mann calmly ordered. To his forward right was a shrine tower. A small group of yellow armoured space marines was hastily making the rear facing base secure. Mann did not know of what importance the structure was, but it was the only building in several blocks that remained intact, which the regimental chaplain would surely have claimed was a miracle if he had not taken shrapnel through his skull just two days ago.

To his left Mann glimpsed the angelic Seraphim of the Sisters of Battle, and despite his habitual grim cynicism the sight of their shining yellow armour and flowing white robes filled him with an irrational surge of momentary confidence. They were moving through the ruins of a large office building, complete grace and deadly professionalism in their fluid strides. Between the two buildings his gun had a broad view across the suburban wasteland before him. His tactical display, interlinked with the Ecclessiarchy’s command and control network, showed an Exorcist missile tank was in a masked position forward on his far right flank, and an Immolator assault vehicle moving forward on his far left flank. Somewhere to his immediate front right on the other side of the shrine tower was a squad of Sisters of Battle and a Dreadnought walker, which was probably attached to the space marines he had eyes on. The icons onscreen indicated only the Exorcist was in place, but the Ecclessiarchy had also decided, probably because of the shrine tower, that the block immediately on the far side of said shrine tower was the line to hold against whatever was coming for them today.

Captain Mann considered the situation. He reached for the leather pouch where he kept his pipe and tobacco. It was a little ritual of his, and one of the few indulgences he allowed himself. Life was no guarantee in the Regiment, so before a battle he had a smoke, or a sugary snack, or a very small drink (only enough just for the flavour.) When life could end at any moment, he believed it was important to remind himself of the little reasons that life was so good to begin with. He was lighting the pipe with furtive puffs when his CVC net suddenly erupted with chatter.

“CONTACT! Three knight-class war engines, 12 o’clock, moving toward us, 3000 meters. Identified and engage-able.”

“Breach locked, shell hot, GUN UP!”

“They’ve got tracks on their flanks...”

Mann clenched his pipe in his teeth. He could just now see the tops of the three Knights over the ruins. He judged by the way the carapaces were swaying that they were moving fast. Probably, he thought, they are coming for revenge. Knights, renegade or loyal, were a proud lot. Mann calmly dropped down and closed the hatch, then tapped the screen of his tactical display to highlight the squadron of Lemann Russ tanks trailing the walkers, then hit send on a support request.

“Bryant,” Mann looked over at his gunner. Sergeant Bryant was staring intently into his targeting display, hands gripping the fire controls tightly, teeth bared in an excited grimace. Mann knew that look; Bryant hungered for the kill. “Target the lead, bring me thunder.”

+++

Sister Miriya couldn’t see a damned thing. The Immolator moved with haste down the narrow side streets, but despite the added height of the multi-melta turret she could not see over the ruins surrounding her. She knew from the tactical display that Knights were moving toward the shrine tower, and she knew that she wanted side or rear shots on them. But she also knew her vehicle was out of position and on the wrong side of the phase line. She shouldn’t have been racing down a side street, she should have been hull down amongst the rubble, laying in wait for a close shot. She knew this, and swore with frustration.

The Immolator steered around a corner and Miriya’s field of fire opened wide. Her heart leapt with joyful aggression as the forms of the war engines ranged into her targeting sight. Still too far for an optimal shot, but the walkers did not seem to have noticed her.

“Miriya! Action left!” Sister Aslinn, her driver, called out in a panic over the vehicle net.

Miriya swore and tracked her turret toward the squadron of Leman Russ tanks that were suddenly to her left. As she brought her multi-meltas to bear the sudden braking of the Immolator caused her guns to dip off target as the over-stressed suspension shifted everything forward and down. As the target sights rocked back upward Miriya knew it was too late.

“Ave Imperator.” Miriya pulled and held the trigger, though she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Her vision was already filled with red from the multitude of tracers streaming in her Immolator’s direction, and brilliant white sparks and flashes from the far too many that were finding their mark against the front glacis and turret. The flashes were so brilliant that momentarily the auto-senses in her helmet shut her lenses off and everything went black . Or maybe she passed out briefly, she couldn’t tell. The world seemed upside down to her for the briefest period of time.

Sister Miriya tore at her helmet and gulped in the fresh air as it came off and rolled on the street next to her. Her lungs felt like they were on fire and she had difficulty breathing. She tasted blood in her mouth, and the ringing in her ears was the only thing she could hear.

She tried to sit up and was only able to get as far as her elbows. Miriya was confused for a moment, wondering why she was laying on the street behind her Immolator, but her jumbled thoughts slowly regained coherency and she realized that her assault vehicle was now nothing but a flaming wreck. Orange flames sputtered angrily through holes, tears, and gashes all over the vehicle, intensified by the escaping gases from the multi-melta’s fuel canisters. Heavy black smoke billowed from the smashed and peeled-open front section. The first noise that Miriya was able to hear over the ringing in her ears was the irregular staccato of the boxes of spare bolter rounds cooking off in the rear compartment.

Miriya reached for her Chaplet Ecclessiastus, her shaking hand numbly fumbling at the robes near her waist. When she didn’t feel it hanging in its usual place, she gritted her teeth and grunted at the pain as she pushed herself upright to try and see it.

The sight of her chaplet’s steel beads scattered loosely all over her scorched, blood spattered robes and the filthy street was even more upsetting to her than the distant realization that her legs were gone from the knees down. Panicked, she rolled onto her side and frantically searched for the blessed chaplet. Her hands finally felt it under her thigh, and she clutched it to her heart.

“Ave Imperator.” Sister Miriya whispered with a raw, pained voice. Her armour’s internal support systems were already activated, injecting her with pain killers and blood clotters, reacting to her erratic bio-signs by sending out a distress call through the local emergency network.

Her faith concentrated on the steel chaplet clutched in her hands, and with morphine coursing through her veins, Sister Miriya allowed her mind to drift into the blessed peace of unconsciousness.

+++

Captain Mann swore. When he ran out of foul words in his own language he began going through every angry foreign phrase he had picked up throughout his many years of travelling the galaxy, including a handful of clumsily pronounced Eldar oaths he had learned while seconded to the Ordo Xenos.

“I’m getting them on-target, Captain,” Sergeant Bryant growled and sent another shell downrange only to watch the monstrous Knight shrug off the explosion and continue marching. “Once the shell hits the target it’s in the Emperor’s hands, not mine.”

“Where in the Warp is our air cover?” Mann chewed the stem of his pipe. Earlier, when the space marine’s drop pod had landed right behind the enemy tanks he had sucked in a confident draw of the sweet smoke. It was rare to get support so quickly and accurately, and he had been well pleased. From his vantage point he had not seen exactly what had gone wrong, but only one of the tanks was sending up black smoke while the other two were trundling in his direction again. When it had become apparent the enemy tanks had dealt with the space marine strike force, Mann had cracked the stem of his pipe between his teeth in frustration. The Exorcist on his right flank was failing to handle the pair of Hydra flak tanks that needed to be knocked out before the air support did arrive.

Mann swore some more. He could not be expected to take on the walkers effectively unless their support were neutralised.

The Lamenters space marines had busied themselves with some esoteric task involving the shrine tower. They were only five anyway. Their Dreadnought was destroyed early, attempting to get among the Knights with its multi-melta, ultimately being destroyed by their enormous chainswords. It was either valiant or stupid, but Captain Mann knew better than to speculate.

Mann watched the remnant of the Battle Sisters squad, a lone survivor stumbling down the street toward his Shadowsword. She held her meltagun loosely in her hands and moved without purpose. It was obvious to Mann that the blast from the Thermal Cannon that had wiped out her squad had jarred her brain. She was alive, but probably not even conscious of what was going on around her. He spared a moment to hope that she managed to get clear of this and live, trying not to be angry about losing the meltagun she carried ineffectually in her hands.

His attention was drawn to the sky as the Hydra flak tanks began to fill the sky with green tracers.

Captain Mann hoped that the air support wasn’t too late, shifting his attention to the Knight who was bearing down on his position.

“Captain?” Atkins nervously asked.

“Driver, make ready to reverse!” Mann ordered. “Gunner, put a round where it hurts or we’re done!”

+++

Veteran Sister Ariel eased up to the window and risked another quick look out. She was annoyed at not being in the fight, but disciplined enough not to complain about it.

“The Lamenters report it is finished.” Ariel informed her squad mates when she saw the prayer flags were pulled in from the second floor of the shrine tower, the prearranged signal that the space marines had accomplished their task. She looked to Melody, the de facto leader since the Sister Superior was not with them. “What’s our next move?”

All five of the Seraphim looked up as the ack-ack-ack of the enemy Hydras began to fill the sky with green tracers. A bright yellow Stormraven streaked down toward the Hydras, banking at just the right angle for the troops on the ground to see the design of black and white cheques surrounding a red bleeding heart painted on the wings. Following close in behind it was a smaller Stormtalon escort fighter. One of the hydra tanks turned into a fireball as the aircraft returned fire, but the second kept tracking the flyers as their bank slowed significantly and their altitude dropped.

“We join the fight.” Veteran Sister Melody unholstered her bolt pistols and headed up a nearby staircase.

Ariel drew her melta pistols and pounded up the stairs after her. A large section of wall was blown out and the third floor was partially collapsed in the area they emerged onto. Ariel followed melody in running though the large gap and off the edge, activating her jump pack at the last second, their three other Seraphim Sisters following right behind.

The squad soared through the air, and Ariel had a brief moment to survey the situation and make a course correction. What she saw looked grim enough, but not without hope. The Stormtalon plunged into the street before the Hydra, bathing the area in flames and wreckage. The Stormraven unleashed a flurry of multimelta and lascannon shots that slagged armour and caused eruptions on one of the enemy Knights. Another enemy Knight was immediately before them, between the shrine tower and their previous cover. She watched as it raked its enormous chainsword down one side of the Shadowsword’s thick armour as the assault gun began reversing down a side street behind the office building. The Lamenters valiantly put themselves between the Knight and the retreating Shadowsword, paying for precious seconds of its escape with their lives.

And then she was on the ground and running, her view of the battlefield narrowed and ground level again.

“Take that thing down!”

Ariel wasn’t sure which of her sisters had issued the command, but the decisiveness of it counted more than any concepts of seniority or even prudence. The enemy walker had its rear to them, and Ariel was close enough to use her melta pistols to their full effect.

The world seemed to slow down for Ariel. Waves of heat washed over her body, rendering everything in her vision in hazy shimmers. Her own flashing melta pistols and the Knight’s crackling void shield further added to the distortion. She scored several hits in succession, each one a blossoming flower of rent metal and flame dropping from the towering Knight’s rear undercarriage. In the corner of her vision she saw red tracers stitching through her squad from behind as the Knight’s partner tried to shoot them off, and then a single missile streaked overhead and punched through the hole in the armour Ariel’s melta pistols had opened up.

The world seemed to stop for Ariel, and then return in full force in an assault of noise, light, and heat as the Knight disappeared in a titanic explosion. She pushed herself up off the ground, though she didn’t recall throwing herself prone. She didn’t recall losing her helmet, either, and she wiped the stinging sweat from her eyes with the back of one hand. She noted grimly that the four other women in her squad remained prostrate. She found a well of courage and faith deep within her, and checking the fuel canister on her remaining melta pistol she looked for her next target.

She was surprised to see a Stormraven hovering nearby. Ariel could make out the pilot frantically pulling at the controls to regain altitude as another renegade Knight pounded forward and rattled off shots with its heavy stubber. It was obvious the assault ship was not going to take off in time. The hopelessness of the pilot’s situation angered Ariel, and she bounded forward to meet the monstrous machine, her melta pistol raised in defiance.

Standing before the fifteen meter tall walker she knew she should feel helpless, but she was a Seraphim, and like her sisters she would fight until the Emperor called her home.

“Ave Imperator,” she prayed, lifting the melta pistol in bloody, trembling fingers.

A deep rumbling shook the ground beneath her feet, and a large chunk of metal the size of a tank rocketed straight up into the air from behind a building on the right flank of the battlefield. Ariel didn’t have time to understand what she was seeing, though. Long green flashes of light began zipping past her from behind the Knight that was before her, popping and cracking as the projectiles broke the sound barrier.

A sudden bright flash nearly blinded her and Ariel threw her non-pistol arm across her eyes. She felt as if she had been punched in the gut, and saw flashes of light behind her closed eyelids as several impacts opened bloody gashes in her head.

Her world was spinning and she felt nauseous. She reached for her head with both hands and felt the hot, sticky blood. The Knight was now out of sight on the other side of the shrine tower, and the Stormraven was a crumpled wreck. Ariel was sitting down, and when she tried to stand the dizziness caused her to stumble and fall again to her knees. Dark forms loomed near, backlit by flame and smoke.

“I will fight you, daemons!” Ariel snarled and pulled her combat knife free and held it before her.

“Calm yourself, sister.” The Assault Terminator sergeant knelt beside her. “You were shot by the Hydra’s autocannons and have a concussion.”

“Where is it?” Ariel tried to wipe the hot sweat from her eyes but only succeeded in smearing sticky blood across her face. “I still have krak grenades.”

“We are evacuating the area.” The sergeant informed her. He handed his thunder hammer to a subordinate and grasped Ariel’s power pack, lifting her to a standing position. “There is no time for that.”

The Leman Russ tanks that the Terminators had destroyed emitted a billowing wall of black smoke. The Lamenters used it for concealment as they shepherded the confused and wounded Seraphim toward the cover of the shrine tower.

+++

“I got it! Did I get it? Dammit I can’t see!” Sergeant Bryant cursed as he operated the Shadowsword’s targeter. “Slow down!”

“Slow down?” Atkin’s voice crackled over the CVC.

“NO!” Captain Mann shouted, holding his helmet’s mic close to his mouth for emphasis.

“I can’t SEE!” Bryant was panicked and channeling his fear into irrational anger. The Shadowsword had taken a beating from the Knight’s chainsword but they were still rolling. The Lamenters sergeant had given them precious distance, but the sight of the Emperor’s own champions being ground to a messy red pulp under the feet of the Knight had unnerved everyone who had seen it. There had been an enormous explosion following that, but the assault gun had reversed too far down the side street to confirm what exactly had happened.

“I’ve got the gun.” Mann tried to sound calm and assertive as he toggled the targeting control to his own station. He chewed on the splintered bits of his pipe stem, idly worrying about one of the crew below stepping on the bowl before he could find where it had dropped to.

“Target!” Atkins called out. “Dead ahead!”

“I’ve got it!” Bryant screamed in frustration. “Give me the shot! Give me the shot!”

A different Knight emerged onto the same side street, but far down on the right flank of the battlefield. Mann recalled that the Exorcist was supposed to be over there and guessed that it had been destroyed by this walker. This walker also had a different colour scheme and was festooned with elaborate banners and tokens. This is their leader, Mann excitedly thought, I want him.

“Firing!” Captain Mann grimaced as he depressed the firing stud. The volcano cannon roared and the shell streaked down range. The hazy blue static of the Knight’s shield crackled for a split second and flashed. For an agonising heartbeat Mann believed his shot had been absorbed, then the Knight’s chest burst apart in a spectacular explosion. A large chunk of the carapace with a piece of exhaust stack spiraled straight up, trailing smoke as it spun. Whoops of relief and joy filled the crew compartment of the Shadowsword as the Knight slowly toppled, upper torso wreathed in billowing smoke.

Mann watched the burning wreckage with relief and satisfaction, then consternation as it swung sharply off his targeting screen.

“What the hell are you doing, Atkins?” Mann screamed into the CVC.

Atkins swore loudly without answering. In his excitement at the Knight’s destruction he had lost control of the control bar, causing the assault gun to track to the right as it reversed. The Shadowsword was now driving backward in the direction of the enemy along the street that ran on the far side of the office building on the block opposite of their original position. Atkins jammed the control bar to its extreme left, nearly vertical, causing the super-heavy assault gun to stop and pivot on the spot.

The crew of the Shadowsword swore or yelped as the sudden momentum change slammed everyone to the right. The long barrel of the Volcano Cannon crashed through the wall of the office building causing parts of the ruin to tumble onto the upper deck of the vehicle.

“Dammit Atkins!” Captain Mann screamed.

“Target! Target!” Sergeant Bryant exclaimed excitedly. “Walker, 12 o’clock, stationary, 500 meters!”

“:cuss!” Captain Mann reflexively fired the cannon. The shell went high and caromed off the Knight’s carapace, taking a chunk out of its armour as it did so.

“Give me the gun, Captain, I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” Bryant pleaded as he tracked the Knight, keeping the crosshairs dead center as the walker turned to move away.

“Go! Go!” Captain Mann flipped the toggle that gave control of the Volcano Cannon back to the gunner, but the Knight had already disappeared behind the shrine tower. “Crap! He’s coming around to follow us!”

“I’m on it!” Atkins pivoted the Shadowsword back to the right then drove straight through the corner of the office building then swung the assault gun back to the left to aim down the street.

+++

Ariel stopped at the bodies of her Seraphim squad mates. Her thoughts came into focus when her eyes found Sister Amelia’s melta pistols sitting neatly in the middle of the street as if they had been placed there just for Ariel to find.

The ground trembled with the footsteps of the renegade Knight. It had stomped to the far side of the shrine tower and they had believed it would continue deeper into the city, but it turned and fired its Battle Cannon down a side street toward a target that Ariel couldn’t see. The sound of grinding gears, clattering tracks, and crashing rubble told her what it was. The Shadowsword had not yet retreated back into the city, but was standing to fight. By the Emperor, Ariel swore, I will stand with it!

“For the Emperor!” Sister Ariel scooped up Amelia’s melta pistols and ignited her jump pack. The Lamenters Assault Terminators, seeing her intent, charged after her but could not hope to keep pace.

+++

“Firing!” Sergeant Bryant could not see clearly through the smoke and dust that filled the street, but was confident that given the size of his target, the narrow confines of the street, and the relatively short distance involved that he was bound to score. He saw a flash of light and felt through the armour of his vehicle the shockwave of a Volcano Cannon shell detonating. “Hit!”

All eyes in the assault gun peered through vision blocks or at displays, trying to confirm the hit. The whirl of smoke and dust spiraled and lifted with the explosion, only to reveal the form of the Knight stepping toward them. The crew began talking at once.

“Reloading!”

“Captain!”

“Keep tracking!”

“Breach locked!”

“What should we do?”

“Shell hot!”

“Do you have a shot?”

“GUN UP!”

“INCOMING!”

The Shadowsword rocked back on its suspension as two Battle Cannon shells hit the front glacis. One exploded there, fire and shrapnel rolling up and over the deck of the assault gun, while the next shot skipped up and hit the gun housing directly before exploding. The crew compartment was filled with terrific noise and acrid smoke, but no secondary explosions followed. That Captain Mann was alive to realise that fact told him that the old girl was still intact for the moment, though the personnel monitor buzzed harshly, alerting him to the loss of bio-signs from several of the forward crew, Atkins included.

With his driver likely dead, and no time to get someone up there to replace him, there would be no more maneuvering against this foe. If Bryant’s next shot didn’t knock the walker out then it would be too late.

Captain Mann’s tactical screen was knocked out, so he threw open the hatch and stood up to see. The enemy walker was preparing to charge the distance, the deadly teeth of its chainblade slowly beginning to pick up speed as it revved the weapon’s motor. It was now or never.

“Shoot, Bryant! Shoot!” Mann commanded, fear gripping him.

“I.. give me a second!” Sergeant Bryant replied, sounding concerned but unhurried.

Captain Mann was torn between jumping off the Shadowsword and dropping back down into the command deck to push Bryant out of the way and pull the trigger himself. His pride deadlocked with his fear, and he could only stand and stare as the Knight shifted its stance to begin its fatal charge.

As terror corkscrewed up his spine and the fragments of his pipe stem tumbled from his open mouth, a heavenly light appeared downrange. A lone Seraphim descended on a plume of heat and smoke, blazing away at the side under-armour of the Knight. She landed with supreme grace, snarling in beatific anger at the enemy war engine as her melta pistol shots were rewarded with secondary explosions and the void shields failing.

The Knight hesitated, stumbling slightly. Its charge was momentarily delayed, and Captain Mann nearly jumped straight out of the hatch as he pounded on the upper deck of the gun housing. “NOW! SHOOT IT NOW!”

“Firing.” Sergeant Bryant calmly replied.

The Volcano Cannon shell covered the distance in a fraction of a second. It entered the torso of the Knight just under where the head-like main sensor apparatus was mounted, punching a neat hole cleanly into the interior. A beat later flames shot out of that same hole, and then the entire power plant of the war engine blew out of the back and tumbled down the street spewing white hot streams of plasma before exploding. The force of the power plant blowing out the backside propelled the Knight face first into the street, the jagged and torn armour of the carapace tore great chunks from the asphalt and threw the pieces meters in every direction.

Captain Mann watched in paralysed fascination as the roiling curtain of fire from the falling Knight washed over the Seraphim. She was there one heartbeat, and then gone the next. In the chaos and wreckage he lost her completely.

The hatch across the gun housing popped open, and Mann turned to see Bryant emerge grinning ear to ear. The gunner roared triumphantly, fists raised above his head.

“Did you see that shot!” Bryant pumped his arms and laughed. “Through the vision blocks, Cap! Through the fugging VISION BLOCKS! No targeter! No display! Just an X drawn on the vision block with a grease pencil!”

“You stopped to draw crosshairs on the vision block?” Mann stared, unbelieving. “THAT is what took you so Warp damned long?”

Sergeant Bryant excitedly jumped out onto the deck from his hatch. Laughing, he walked over to the Volcano Cannon and dropped down to straddle it. He then pantomimed an extremely rude gesture that assumed the cannon was a part of his anatomy, cackling with unseemly glee.

“THROUGH! THE! VISION BLOCKS!”

+++

“Does she live?”

“I do not know,” The Terminator Sergeant knelt and regarded the Seraphim. At that moment he sincerely wished he knew her name. “We will retrieve her regardless. Help me with my shield.”

The Lamenters laid the maiden on the sergeant’s long storm shield. Despite her power armour and jump pack she seemed light. Her once shining yellow plate was blistered and peeled black, and her once flowing white robes were scorched and bloodstained tatters. Her short hair, bleached white before the battle, was singed to the bloody scalp. The mouth that had so recently screamed violent prayers to the Emperor was slack, the lips cracked and bloody like the rest of her face.

The sergeant laid her melta pistols on the shield beside her, then watched as two of his men raised the shield to their shoulders. The five Terminators then set off down the street toward the interior of the city. There would be more of the war tomorrow.

[Warsmith Aznable]

This is a story form battle report of a game I played yesterday. It was the first night I used my super-heavy tank, and I played two battles against a force that centered on three Imperial Knights.

 

I played a mixed Imperial force of Sisters of Battle, Lamenters, and the Shadowsword. The Shadowsword and crew are the center of the story and were the object of my opponent's desire for most of the game, so I posted the battle report story here.

The only picture I have is from the game that preceded this one, unfortunately. I won the first engagement in turn 3, knocking out his three Knights before his space marine reserves could arrive. In the second game (told of above) he switched up his list and replaced the space marines with IG tanks and started everything on the board. I ended up with a Shadowsword, five Assault Terminators, and a single Seraphim left alive on the board, and he had a single Hyrda flak tank left. He achieved a lot more Tactical Objectives than I did, though, so I lost the second match. I felt it was a moral victory, however, since I managed to knock out all of his Knights and kept my Shadowsword alive.

[markham82]

Excellent.

[lionofjudah]

That's a fantastic story max!!! I appreciated the voice given to the tanks crew and the experience held in the lone sisters last stand. Sounds like a great game...and some good dice rolling;)

[WarriorFish]

This makes me want to start on my Shadowsword... but the ETL comes first :P Definitely sounds like you won that battle in principle, though it may mean your Shadowsword gets even more attention next time.

[Warsmith Aznable]

It was definitely a hard fought game. I love 7th edition!

 

Looking on the 40k wiki, a Volcano Cannon is a laser weapon apparently. The battle drill of firing a projectile weapon is more fun for a story, though.

[TredHed]

As the one on the receiving end of that particular Volcano Cannon, makes me want to get my Baneblade/Shadowsword chassis built. I still dont get why people complain about the Knights being overpowered, I have lost as many games as I have won with them.