DISCLAIMER: Yet another battle report, played with unfinished, unpainted and even, unassembled models, totally for fun. I wish I could say that many pointy eared Emo-Eldar were harmed in making this battle report, but…. Not nearly as many as I would have liked. Mistakes were made (mostly by me) but much fun/carnage was had. Now…. To build more narrative….
“There is the Oasis of Hakkhar-Durka, m’lord” Champion Syphilius pointed toward a patch of scraggly palm trees in a depression below.
“About friggin time, poor Buttnugget is getting all dried out and scaly.” The hulking Daemon Prince remarked, peeling some dry skin off of the little Nurgling’s head as it satin his shadow panting. “Is it me…. Or do I smell donuts?”
“It must be the heat, your Grace.” Gravul flexed his mutated left arm proudly as the other two shot him an annoyed glare. The nurgling wagged his finger at the man and cursed him nonsensically, until he farted, then began to giggle. Gravul had been a prison Custodius (albeit a very corrupt one) before the rebellion on the dusty world of BashurpaDur, now he lead a hoard of former prisoners and underhive scum, that just so happened to capture some serious hardware. Their Leman Russ Punisher rumbled along in support of 20 of his lot.
“The Doombull’s nose is never wrong.” Syphilius grumbled. “Why don’t you take your rabble and tank down to the trees in support of Ahnold and Bob. NOW.” The newly mutated Custodian snapped to it and ran down the hill to his men.
“Hmmmmm, Boston crèmes. I love Boston Crèmes” The great beast sniffed, in a slight daze. “It HAS to be a trap. But set by whom? Where’s Sly?”
A bulky figure seemed to rise out of the sand beside him, making the little nurgling start and Syphilius raise his boltgun. The sand covered figure turned his attention to the champion, sneering beneath the horn protruding from his forehead. “Ehhhhh, Yo aaIIIIi Oh ahhhAaa?”
“Ah, there you are.” The Daemon Prince still sniffed the air, drool running down it snout. “Would you be a good man and recon the oasis for me. Something is amiss.”
The figure raised a rusted knife to his temple in salute “Iiiah ain’gonna quit.” He muttered and seemed to vanish into the sands.
“That bastard gives me the creeps.” Syphilius lowered his pistol.
“He has his uses.” Muttered the Beast. “Send the rest into the oasis to find the munitions stash. “ It ordered, setting off down the dunes to the ruins west of the green patch. “You and your men come with me.” It sniffed the air. “Yup, definitely Boston Crèmes.”
Once again, I faced off against the insidious Broodnest. But this time, with his insidious Dark Eldar, who are very…. Insidious. A 2000 point free-for-all over a hidden munitions cache in the oasis of Hakkhar-Durka. At least, that is what had brought the Templars of DOOooom there. The Dark Eldars goals were far more nefarious…. and insidious.
It would be my first experiment with Allies. Along with the Templars, there was a Lord Commissar (Gravul), 2 penal squads a Leman Russ Punisher, with Heavy Bolter sponsons and MAAAaaaRBOOoooo….. or at least a gross, nurgly stand in for him. For other experiments, I tried a new incarnation of the Doombull, 2 units of 10 marines (Squads Syphilius and Pusticlese) with mark of Nurgle, autocannon and Plasmagun, 7 plague marines (with a plasma gun), both defilers and my forgefiend Blinky. Could I had made a better list? Definitely. Did I learn a few things from my mista….er,uhm experiments. Why, yes….yes I did. First and foremost, the Doombull is totally friggin useless in the face of a dozen freshly baked Boston Crèmes. They are vanilla custard filled Kryptonite.
Broodnest’s list was full of pointy eared shenanigans. The Archon with his soul prison and husk blade, and general aloof smugness, was accompanied by 15 witches, who I’m fairly certain he had recent carnal knowledge of. 2 units of 6 jetbikes each with 2 heat lances, 2 ravengers, 2 raiders ,10 trueborn with WAaaayyyy too many shooty panzy weapons, 5 more trueborn with blasters. Since they were Trueborn, they got to ride in the sail barges with jabba. The 10 wracks got to hoof it in the hot sun, while 3 creepy Homunkuleys creeped around, being generally creepy…and insidious.
The munitions crates (the only model on the table besides "Marbo" and the Leman Russ that was fully painted….and the tank was painted for another army, I might add) were placed in the oasis. Deployment was made. I rolled Exalted champion for my Warlord trait, which was absolutely useless since I didn’t have any Boons to roll. While the Archon got Coordinated Assault, which was not absolutely useless to the already fast Eldar raiders. One penal squad got assault 2 lasguns, while the other rolled up the furious-countercharge-fleet package. Always frightening from guardsmen. An attempt to seize the initiative from me failed and the battle at Hakkhar-Durka began.
TURN 1: Will you PLEASE stop buying ammo from the Orks?!?
A sort of general advance, lead by the scouting convicts into the oasis was underway, supported by what seemed to be an overwhelming number of ‘big things with guns’. Doombull was feverishly digging away looking for the donuts on the far left, why I didn’t make him a psyker this game is just… well, stupid. Live and learn. He would end up being largely wasted for the game. BUT…. Those creepy Eldar know how to make a damned tasty Boston crème. The Leman Russ opened up with 29…. Yes 29… heavy bolter shots unto the Witches. Much sandstone was churned into dust, but I only managed to wound 9, 5 of which felt no pain, so I only killed 4. The trend was once again set for my dice. Not-so-smilin’ Bob, laid a battlecannon into the Wracks and killed all but 2 of them along with their Humonklypuss. Of course those 2 happened to be the liquefier gun toting freaks. Ahnold reminded me of why he had been chosen for an overhaul, but did manage to kill 2 bikers. Neither marine squad could hit anything with their autocannons, which leads me to believe they were purchased from the same Ork that sold them the missile launchers in Petrastad. Ahnek Ghul died (from having a twisted frying pan shoved up his..uh, yooohooo by the Doombull) before he could settle up. Damned Bad Moons. They must work for Tzeentch.
The Dark Eldar fusillade to follow was largely concentrated on my heavies. The Ravager on the right immobilized the Leman Russ. Bob a beating, losing his battlecannon and another hull point. Ahnold took several hits, but saved, taking a hull point from a glance. There was a general advance ….. an insidious general advance.
TURN 2: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! NO…seriously, It’s a PLANE!
Ahnold opened up my turn with his battlecannon, killing 4 bikers from the unit he had not shot last turn. The shooty convicts finished off the two remaining bikers in that unit with a hail of lasgun fire. The other convicts, hiding among the palmettos, fired on the Witches and managed to kill one. Bob launched himself at the 5 dismounted Trueborn who had shot up his battlecannon. The Leman Russ crew proved that when you have 26 shots, you can still miss with most of them, but did manage to “shake’ the Ravager that had immobilized them. Bob’s power scourge reduces the Trueborn’s WS by 2, but he fails to land enough of his close combat attacks, only killing one. Their haywire grenades take away another Hull point. “It Will Not Die” rolls are friendly to the Defilers, restoring hull points.
THEN…. In comes the Voidraven. OH…. How I LOATHE the Voidraven. Although, it’s initial appearance was anti-climactic. Having a deep seated hatred for Blinky, my opponent concentrated on her. The Voidraven fired, but failed to hurt her. The Ravager and remaining bikers, however were able to kill my poor Blinky outright. A marine from Squad Syphilius died in the hellfire explosion. The Trueborn on the raider opened up on Squad Syphilius and basically shot the hell out of it. I helped by failing TWELVE …yes, TWELVE armor saves. But at least, the Doombull got to eat his donuts unmolested. The remaining Witches and Archon charged into the melee with Bob, who’s Scourge reduced their WS by 3 this time. 2 more Trueborn died and the collective hail of Haywire grenades reduced Bob to 1 remaining Hull point. But…. He was still kickin’…. And definitely NOT smilin’.
TURN 3: A LOVELY BUNCH OF COCONUTS.
Since the Turret still worked, I decided it’d be a ton of fun to fire 26 shots at the Void Raven. I mean… seriously, how could I NOT get enough ‘6’s to bring it down. Well, apparently, rolling 26 of my dice, is how NOT to get enough ‘6’. I DID manage to score ONE hull point, but missed with 23 of the 26. I can’t imagine there were any coconuts left in the palm trees at the oasis after that mess. My infantry in the center tightened up on the objective, the penal squads killing the last two Wracks and the plague marines taking out another Biker. Ahnold engaged the Ravager and managed to miss, but may have stirred the Doombull into action as he rounded the sandstone to assault the Ravager. I’m assuming that a combination of sweet vanilla crème and intense desert heat didn’t mix well, since he spent his charge attempt barfing up those hard earned donuts in the sand. Bob’s scourge denied the Eldar 3 WS AGAIN…. But the number of haywire grenades robbed him of his last Hull Point before he could strike back. The remaining Witches and Archon consolidated into the trees.
The Void Raven attempted to bomb the plague marines and missed, dropping its bomb down the well and ruining the water supply with a glorious roll to wound of SNAKE EYES. (the one bright moment for me in the Eldar turn…. The rest went to hell in a sh*t filled hand bag) The 10 Trueborn in the raider shot the heck out of the vomiting Doombull causing 11 wounds, 3 of which I failed to save. The Ravager lays into Ahnold with some top notch shooting and he blows up. The two remaining Trueborn from the fight with Bob, shoot the Leman Russ with their blasters and take away its last Hull Point. It explodes, knocking over a couple marines in Squad Pusticlese, but they make their saves. The Witches charge the remaining shooty Convicts who manage to kill 2 with Overwatch fire, before they are ripped to shreds. The Humonkyfus charges into the other convict squad. I manage to wound the creepy bastard with Overwatch fire, but the close combat results in a stalemate thanks to quirky dice rolls on both our parts.
TURN 4: Where’s Marbo?
FINALLY….. FINALLY….. I get my Nurgly Marbo from reserve. Palm fronds in the wrecked grove twitch and a half decayed arm, sand stuck to open wounds lobs a Demo charge disguised as a wedding bouquet into the Witches. Not being able to resist, one of their number catches it, while the others dive for cover and paints the grove red. I managed to hit nearly all of them with the blast template, but only 1 failed her cover save. Pity. The lone surviving member of Squad Syphilius, who had been hiding behind the sand stone, fires his bolter and takes out one of the last 3 jetbikes. Squad Pusticlese just tears apart the last two Trueborn that had taken out the Leman Russ. The close combat between half dozen remaining convicts and the Humunklyman is resolved with them hacking the creepy bastard to pieces with their shanks. Understandably peeved about hoarking up his precious Boston Crèmes, the Doombull plays hulky-smash with the Ravager and ends its insidious reign of terror.
That pesky Voidraven turns around and hits the plague marines with an Implosion missile, killing 4. Then guns down the remaining 2. The Trueborn in the Raider sneak up…. Insidiously, and shoot Gravul in the back. The raider shoots at the Doombull, who winks…complaining… from existence. THEN the true purpose of this whole bloodbath is finally gleaned. The Archon charges the Nurgly Marbo, jams him with the Husk Blade and then opens his Soul Trap. “AAAIiiiiiiiii Aaaaaaiiiiinnn’ Gonnnnnnna Quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit” echoes throughout the shattered palm grove as marbo is sucked into the Archons little treasure box and he laughs….. insidiously, while standing atop the empty boxes of the supposed ‘weapons cache’. Insidious…… Insidious, indeed.
According to the ‘official’ after action report from Champion Pusticlese, the four remaining convicts fought a valiant ‘delaying action’ with the 6 remaining Witches, while the marines slipped away to deliver the report and …uh….collect reinforcements. Yeah…. That’s it. Collect reinforcements.
“Why do you always DO that!?! Can’t you just let me die in battle!?! What will the men think?” The Doombull raged in the bowels of the Bulwark of Despair.
“Oh, there, there, youngling” he disjointed baritone of Bfrapdurpahurr the Overfiend echoed throughout the bubbling sulfur mud and roiling hot geysers, “We could not bear the thought of losing you. We will give you gifts so that you may bring vengeance upon those weaklings that had offended you.”
The mane of greasy hair along the Doombull’s neck and back caught fire. The Beast wailed as Bfrapdurpahurr’s baritone thrummed a chuckle. The fire spread and began to consume him, smoldering through his eye sockets and bellowing from his mouth. As he fell into the boiling sulfur mud, the Doombull stretched his arms and screamed. The flames leapt high from his back and grew…. Into flaming wings. The conflagration continued for what seemed to be an age until the Doombull snapped awake.
He wreaked of death and decay…as usual… and of sulfur, brimstone and burning flesh.
“There. Do you not feel better?” the Daemon asked.
“No” the Doombull gasped. “That friggin’ hurt.”
“Would donuts make it better?” Bfrapdurpahurr the Overfiend, cooed sweetly.
“Donuts make everything better” the Doombull broke the slightest of smiles.