Marshall Melthas stood in the meeting hall and watched the humans scamper about, screaming, shouting, crying, and it filled him with wroth. Next to him stood Captain Darnath Lysander of the Imperial Fist 3rd Company, whom had helped him in some of the recent battles upon Pingtass Prime. The capital world was a planet in turmoil at the moment. It had been infested by Chaos Cults of the heretical Nyx belief system, which worshipped the warp anomaly in the sky as the heralding of the coming of their debased goddess. The planet had also been the target of piratical Eldar raiders, who had assassinated the planetary governor and stolen sector secrets from the palace. Finally, there were the Orks…there were always the Orks.

“It is a simple request he offers, a paltry thing!” The overweight nobleman waddled about, waving his arms to silence the rest of the planetary leaders in the room. “The Orks request naught but earth and water, surely we can give them that.”

“They didn’t say earth and water, you buffoon,” snapped an elderly woman, wreathed in an archaic life support chair, her voice clicking out mechanically in wheezes as the chair pumped air through her lungs. “The Orks said ‘death and slaughter’ all that they request from us is death and slaughter.”

The fat nobleman went pale and stumbled as he sank into his seat, “but…this is madness.”

“Madness? No, this is Orkdom.” The old woman’s chair rotated around as she turned to Lord Marshall Lucan Raglan, a feeble old oaf who was the erstwhile leader of the Allied 1st Mechanicus and supreme military commander of the assembled Imperial Guard forces in the sector. “Lord Raglan, the Orks are coming, this is a certainty, what are our chances of mounting a defense?”

“A defense, Ma’am, well, Orks, y’know, bloody nuisance they are, hee-haw!” The simple-minded poltroon tried to just bluster and wave away the Vice-Governor’s question. Still, if there was one thing Melthas admired about Vice-Governor Florentina Kriek, and the more he interacted with her the more things he found admirable, was that she was not one to allow bluster to be an answer.

“What are our specific chances of holding out against the coming army?” She turned, casting a steel-eyed glare at the tactical map. The orderly symbols of the capital spires of Pingtass Prime looked like a small thing compared to the vast swathe of green advancing from the north, like a sandcastle on a beach in front of the incoming tide…

“Well…Ma’am…y’know, the lads will do their duty, whot!”

“I see,” offered Vice-Governor Florentina. The static of her vox-amplifier still easily conveying a sarcastic drawl. She moved one thin, claw-like, hand on a remote attached to her armrest and turned back to the table at large. “I take it to mean that we have no chance? Would you agree with that assessment,” this last she asked across the room, to Melthas directly. He lifted his head in mild surprise as Lysander smirked at him slightly.

“Your defenses are lacking, the military forces here have been foolishly spread across the sector without concern for the defense of this planet nor her people, and the Orks have been allowed to reach a fever pitch in size.” Melthas frowned as he stepped forward, the humans scattering before the towering Black Templar as he walked forward to eye the map. His robes were still stained with dirt and blood from his last mission battling the Orks, and he would leave directly from this meeting to return to the fray once more. “Even if you pulled every able bodied soul from the city and assigned them to fortification work and issued each of them a lasgun you still wouldn’t have the time to make your defenses worth anything before the Orks arrived.”

“The idea sickens me, but we could perhaps arrange for a mass evacuation,” offered Florentina, the other nobles began to protest but she simply increased the volume of her vox amplifier to drown them out, “perhaps sap and mine the palace in our wake and try to butcher as many of the xenos vermin as we can?”

“Again, you have no time. Unless…” Melthas frowned as he eyed the map.

“Speak your mind, Marshall, I would hear your thoughts.”

“Here.” Melthas tapped his finger on the map, indicating a narrow pass, part of the Helsmouth range that divided the unordered mountains in the north from the civilized plains of the settled south. “This pass is a natural choke point, a ‘Gate’ if you will. If it can be held for a week, even a few days, it could gain you the time needed to hold against the Orks until additional relief forces arrive.”

“The Helsmouth Pass!?!” Lord Raglan chuffed uncertainly. “What sort of bloody fool would accept an assignment there? Whoever went in likely wouldn’t come out again, the entire might of that Ork Waaagh is about to churn through there and stomp anything in their path to paste beneath their boots!”

“Which is exactly why you should not go,” noted Florentina darkly.

“Agreed,” said Melthas, dropping to one knee in front of her. “Please allow dispensation for me to select a detachment of my forces. We shall travel to the pass and hold the Orks there for as long as possible.

“Nor shall he go alone,” Lysander took step forward. “My forces are not under your control, Madame Vice-Governor, we would march with our battle brothers."

“We also.” Sub-Commander Kilij of the Immortal Host 1st Company lifted his head. “It would do poorly to our honor if the Host failed to walk where the Templar and Fist had chosen to stand.”

=====================================

Marshall Melthas stood now in the gates at Helsmouth, the narrow valley was all he could have hoped for. Raven Guard ambushers and the already treacherous winds and landscape of the Helsmouth had assured that any Ork attack would need to come through this point. Orks, being Orks, were unlikely to shy away from a fight either.

Behind him stood his personal guard, their terminator army gleaming softly in the light of early dawn. Nearby stood the small detachment of Imperial Fists, their bright yellows and deep crimson marking out the First Founding Chapter with pride. Further back, along the ridgeline, the early morning mist skirled about, half concealing the greys and bruised purples of the Immortal Host. Somewhere in the darkness a Dreadnaught stomped into position while a battle brother issued an oath of moment to one of his squad mates.

In the distance to the north could be heard the howlings and grunts of the xenos. The roar of their mighty warmachines echoed through the canyon, and the acrid stink of exhaust choked the air. The very ground seemed to tremble as the Orks approached, a tide of green, unending, unstoppable, with only this thin line of brotherhood standing in its way.

To the south were the distant lights of the capital. The beacon of The Emperor’s Word, and the bastion of Imperial teaching and law in this sector.

Marshall Melthas knew I was time. He drew out his power blade, stepping in front of his unit as he turned to eye them. All of the other marines present paused, turning to hear his words. But, Melthas was not a man for speeches. He simply lowered his blade and drew a line in the sand there, then looked back at all of them and nodded. As one, the other Space Marines nodded back.

It was time to prepare for glory.

For this mission I decided to go with a game idea that excited Jake and I. Basically the capital world of Pingtass Prime, overlooked by the Chaos invasions of the rest of the sector, has been declared prime lootin' by the Arch-killa, Captain Zog'dakka Squatstompa. As such, a bunch of the ladz have been making planetfall in ever increasing numbers, and now a proper Ork Waaagh is descending down from the mountains in an attempt to stomp da umies propah!
The Imperium, their resources stretched thin, have to scramble to mount a proper defense, since they expected the battle to happen elsewhere and were unprepared for the threat to their back yard. Thankfully, the Space Marines are here to, as usual, try to sort everything out. A collection of 1st company Terminators (300 of them? ) have gone to make a stand against the onrushing Ork hordes and hold them up in a valley, hopefully long enough to prevent the Orks from getting through until the capital's defenses are in place.
-The Battlefield
6x4 table - the battlefield should resemble some sort of valley (though, the valley could be anything from an actual valley, to a lava river crossing, to a narrow gap between impossing Imperial fortification edifices - 'valley-like' is the main goal). The Orks have one short edge as their deployment zone - their edge should be relatively free of any obstructions.
The Imperium deployment zone is the other short board edge and 2/3 of the table (basically it should be about up to the edge of the valley.
They can have a few minor defense points, like barricades, Aegis lines, a small grove of trees, ect.
There should also be an area to represent a hidden path behind the Imperial Lines...not that this could possibly be used against them.

The Armies
Some of us will take the part of the 1st Company holding the (fething) line. Our builds are as follows;

No FoC.
No vehicles of any sort besides Dreadnaughts.
No HQ not in Terminator Armour.
No Infantry not in Terminator Armor.
No nothing else not in Terminator Armor

So, basically unless it's in Tactical Dreadnaught Armor or is, in fact, a Dreadnaught, it shouldn't be there.
Fortifications do seem reasonable though if people wish to bring those.

The size of the Imperial team will be based on who is playing for them and their Termies available.
One Imperial HQ is to be designated as 'Leonidus' (or, as GW would call him, Astra Leonidus) Leonidus is the Warlord.
Leonidus has FNP 4+ versus all enemies except for wounds cause by Z'Orkses.
Leonidus has It Will Not Die versus all wounds except for wounds cause by Z'Orkses.
Leonidus has Hatred (Orks) and grants the rule to his entire unit.
Leonidus has Armorbane on all his close combat attacks.


All Imperial units automatically rally.
The Terminators are so well trained that they do not provide cover saves to enemy units for firing through other Imperial units (so a Termie squad firing at Orks from behind an Assault Termie squad would not grant Orks being fired at a cover save)

Others of us will play as the Orks. Our builds are as follows;

Their army size is identical in points to the Imperial force, whatever that may be.
Yes, FoC
No Super Heavies/Lords of War/whatever - just Orks from the base Ork codex (changed to allow for the Dreadmob List).
No Fortifications.
Flyers are allowed.
Any Ork Deepstrikers or Kommandoes have to be able to enter play within 6" of another Ork unit if Deep striking or entering any other way than from their own board edge.

The following unit types will be given the 'Endless Waaaagh!' mission special rule - Ork Boyz, 'Ard Boyz, Gretchin, Nobz, Burnas, Tankbustas, Stormboyz, Ork Trukks (no Battlewagons) purchased as Dedicated Transports to any of the aforementioned unis. Looted Wagons that are open topped and used to transport any of the aforementioned units may be considered ‘dedicated’ for them and also gain the rule.

Endless Waaagh! - When this unit is totally destroyed *or* when it is below 25% the Ork Player may elect to remove it from play and immediately bring it into play on his next (or current) movement phase. As a side effect of this, every single Ork unit, regardless of type and regardless of if they have this rule, *MUST* attempt to move forward every turn if at all possible. Immobilized vehicles are, naturally, exempt from this, but any passengers better get out and be properly Orky by continuing the assault.

'Ere we Go! - The Ork Board edge is always considered to be six inches behind it's furthest back non-immobilized unit.

The Ork Player also has two special units;

Z'Orkses the Great! - The Ork Warboss in charge of this operation. Z'Orkses is a Warboss that is built however the Ork Player(s) wish with whatever upgrades they like. He is to be joined by a squad of his Im-mork-tals, a squad of 10 Ork Nobz (or 8 Mega Nobz, if Z'Orkses wears Mega-Armor). The Nobz may be equipped however the player likes. The entire unit is placed into an open topped battlewagon - the entire unit is received for free and does not cost the Ork player at all, he does count as an HQ slot in the FoC though). He must be held in reserve and does not enter play until Turn 5

Ephilates da Really Sneaky (counts as Snikrott) - A really cunnin' Ork, he is provided to the Ork army for free but must be held in reserve. He will automatically enter play on Turn 4, and may be joined by up to 2 units of Ork Infantry (to clarify this – no vehicles may use the pass). He, and the units, enter play from the hidden pass, or as close to the hidden pass as they legally can (no sneaky Imperial blocking up of the pass allowed, sorry!) Once he has entered the board, on any subsequent turns Ork units may treat the secret path as part of their board edge for the purpose of any units entering from reserve still taking into account the vehicle limitation.


Deployment - The Imperium deploys first, anywhere within the valley, nothing may be held in reserve. The Orks deploy second, up to 12" in from their board edge. The Orks get first turn, assaults are not allowed for them this turn.

Other Rules - The cliffs around the valley are forcing the Ork army to come this way for a reason, either due to AA fire, or dangerous weather, or small fuzzy bunnies that hop up and bite your head off. Any Ork Fliers within the valley that are not in hover mode take an automatic Str 8, AP 2 hit on their side armor every turn. Any Ork fliers that pass over the 'cliff' terrain take an automatic Str 10, AP 1 hit whenever they do so. Jink saves are allowed against these hits.

Victory? - The game is planned for 10 turns. It is expected that the Imperium shall lose. After all, they are only trying to hold the line. Still, did they hold it well enough?

If the Imperium still has any models in play on Turn 10 they receive a crushing victory as Imperial reserves arrive and gut the Ork force while it is trapped in the valley.


If the game is called prior to that, or if the Orks table the Imperium, then the following scores are used;
Orks get +1 point for every full unit of Terminators or Dread they destroyed.
The Imperium gets +1 point for every 15 Orks killed (multiple wound models give 1 point per wound. Walkers count as 5 Orks if Kans or 10 if a Dredd, Battlewagons as 10, and Trukks and Looted Wagons as 5, Gretchin count as .5)
The Orks get +5 points if Ephilates da Really Sneaky is in play. (reserve does not count)
The Orks get +5 points if Z'Orkses the Great! is in play (reserve does not count)
The Imperium gets +5 points if Leonidus is in play.
The Imperium or Orks get +10 points if Leonidus or Z'Orkses kill the other one in a challenge, it is possible for both to get this award if it happens on the same initiative step.

The Imperial Fists


Captain Lysander
Librarian in Terminator Armor (took Biomancy and ended up with Hemorrhage and Enfeeble)
Chaplain in Terminator Armor
8x Assault Terminators (Hammer and Claw mix)
10x Terminators (w. Cyclones)
2x Venerable Dreads (Riflemen)
1x Ironclad

The Immortal Host (‘counts as’ Space Wolves)

Logan Grimnar
Njal Stormcaller
Bjorn the Fell Handed
Rune Priest in Termie Armor
Wolf Lord in Termie Armor
Venerable Dread w. autocannons
Big squad of Termies w. Cyclones and Arjac Rockfist
Big Squad of Termies w. Hammers
Another Assault Termie Squad
Another Shooty Termie Squad


I may not recall his composition, but his army was pretty.

The Black Templar

Tricked out Chapter Master (Astra Leonidus)
2x Big Assaulty Termie Squads
1x Termie squad all with Chainfists
1x Shooty Termie squad w. Plasma and Cyclones
2x Venerable Dreads kitted for assault
1x Ironclad

Total Termie Count in the Game: 119!

WAAAGH! Z’Orkses


Oh wow…so…the Orks; there were a lot of Orks.

Ghaz in a Battlewagon w. kitted Nobz
Zagstrukk and Stormboyz
Snikkrott and Kommandos
15 man Tankbusta squads in Looted Wagons
Big Mek Junka
2x Boom Wagons
Dakkajet
KFF Big Mek & Shoota boys in a Battlewagon
Mega Armored Warboss and Shootas in Battlewagon
Warboss and Sluggas in Battlewagon
5-6x 5 man Deffcopta Squads w. various loadouts
3x 3 Killa Kanz w. rokkits
Deff Dread
2x 20 man Shoota mob
2x 3 Rokkit Buggies
6x Trukks w. Shoota/Slugga Boyz
Maybe some other stuff. It was a right proppa Waaagh!


This here sneaky git is Ephilates da Reely Sneaky!


An’ over dere is Z’Orkses Da Great! An’ da Im’Mork’tals. Dey run dis show, cause dey are da biggest!


Oi! Beakie! C’mere, lemme give ya a hug!

The Helsmouth Gap is a barren passage.


An optimal place to set our scene.


The Orks have first turn, free of any fear of seizing, so they happily clog up their deployment zone with the ladz in the faster vehicles, since they likely got there first.

Z’Orkses also approves of letting cannon fodder soak up the ‘early shootin’ grubbinz’ with their faces.


This is but the tip of the iceberg.


Looted wagons, battlewagons, trukks, and more all prepare to rush forward into the Imperial lines, what sort of force could possibly stand in their way!?


…good answer, beakie.


Oi! Dat looks right intimidatin’, is whot dat is!

What ‘dat’ is - is 115 Terminators, packing heat and not knowing what fear is.


A wall of Dreadnaughts obligingly lines up across from the wall of Kans.


A view from the Ork lines.


Fire support and secondary assault lines in the rear.


Lysander and Melthas (nominated as Astra Leonidus) hold the front defensive line.

It is likely to be a thankless and deadly assignment.

“All right you lot, gather ye round and hear now the words and tactiks of da Great Z’Orkses da Great!” The messenger undid the scroll of squig skin and unfurled it as he cleared his throat and spat out a bit of phlegm onto a passing grot (who, incidentally, brewed a half decent pint from it). “In da face of our enemies, and wiv all dese Termies looking ta stop us, mark ye well the following strategy…” The messenger peered at the assembled Orks, making sure they were ready to hear the Warboss’ great plan. “’Ere we go, ‘ere we go! Krump ‘em!”

The other Orks considered this for a moment, and then cheered. “Waaaagh! KRUMP ‘EM!!!”

The battle plan was underway…


The Orks move forward. Using scout moves to try and create a wall of deffcoptas to screen the ladz from being charged by the Termies.


“Our dakka, will blot out da sun!”
The first casualty of the battle, one of the Templars staggers and falls. One down, one-hundred and fourteen to go…
Incidentally, this was from the blast of a Shokk Attack Gun.


“Waaaagh! Aim fer da whites of ‘dere eyes, or ‘dere helmets…or really, just aim fer anyfink dat moves an’ it oughta sort itself out!”


Wave after wave of rokkits slew through the sky, slamming and exploding against one of the venerated Black Templar Dreadnaughts until the mighty machine finally collapses under the onslaught.


More Dakka than can be imagined (ranging from tanks, big shootas on vehicles, and multiple squads of 20 Shoota boyz) pour dakka into the Imperial Fist Assault Terminators, felling seven warriors from that great host, though leaving the command elements still standing…and angry.


“Primarch-Progenitor, to your glory and the glory of him on earth!”
“No Pity, No Remorse!”


The Space Marine players do a quick huddle.
“We’re playing a defensive action,” Notes one.
“I agree…let’s attack,” is the reasoned rebuttal.
The Terminator lines advance.


The Terminators form up battle lines in front of the oncoming Ork horde. Marshall Melthas raised his sword in signal, and gestured to the deffkoptas. Behind him the finest warriors of three chapters knew their mission – to open a path…


An Imperial Fist Dread finds a path of its own, looking to make some scrap metal out of the Killa Kans.


“I consider it a fair fight…”


The Terminators prove their bolters (and some helpful enfeeble and auto and assault cannon work) are up to the task, and Ork air power takes a sudden turn for the smaller. The hope here is to manage a disordered charge against multiple battlewagons, wrecking them all and causing massive deaths as the cramped Ork lines prevent or hinder disembarkation.


An Orbital bombardment is launched, taking out one of the battlewagons early.


Unfortunately, Termies are not known for their fancy footwork (though they are known to backflip off Landraiders they are riding…just saying) and the assault is failed. The Orks cackle in glee as they pump more shots into their foes.


Black Templar Termies and an Imperial Fist Dread make first contact with the enemy, smashing apart some Kans and killing more Deffcoptas.


The Dread is felled, but the Black Templar stand firm, brandishing their weapons at the oncoming tide.


“For the Emperor!”


The growing pile of the fallen… 11 Termies down, 104 to go…


The right flank, some trukks went down, some Kans were smashed, deffkoptas wiped…and yet so much more awaits.


“Stomp ‘em flat, ladz!” The Ork tide continues forward, can nothing stop its unending force?


The Orks eye the large mass of hammernators, Marshall Melthas, a Librarian, and Lysander that hold the center line, and they vow to krump them propa!


Twelve to twenty thousand odds? Seems legit.


The Ork left flank.


Its shokk attack gun blasted apart by one of the riflemen, the Ork Mekboy Junka roars forward, its deff’rolla smashing all before it. The Immortal Host choose to spring out of the way, wishing no part of the deadly device. The Templar…being Templar…refuse to yield!


“Suffer not the badly built xenos vehicle to live!”
A Black Templar smashes his chain fist into the onrushing vehicle, shredding it apart and destroying it. The thunderous heap of metal grinds to a halt as the Templar roar in victory.


The Deff Dredd, its arms waving about akimbo in glee, stomps forward to take part in the assault.


Though one Looted Wagon decides to press dat which is never to be pressed, the others move along in a more orderly manner, some tankbustas even leaping from their ride and readying their rokkits.


The Orks ready themselves around their target.


“It’s pretty bright out, here’s some more shade, beakie!” The Ork firepower is again felt as waves of firepower rattle across the valley, churning up the very earth and splintering rocks due to the sheer amount of shots fired.


Ork Shootas and Sluggas fire from a range even they cannot miss at. The Librarian falls under the barrage.


Ork kommandos appear from hiding, unleashing a wave of flame from their skorchas into the Templar.


Then the Orks charge, hurling nearly sixty lads and two warbosses against the staggered unit.


The Imperials meet the charge head on, ceramite and powered hammers versus choppas and sinewy muscle.


Orks come from all directions, trying to drown the Terminators in sheer weight of numbers.


A lone Terminator is left facing off against the Deff Dredd, and promptly smashes it.
“Hammernators! What is your profession!?!”


Marshall Melthas lashes about him with huge sweeps of his blade, felling dozens of Ork Warriors before he is dragged down by sheer weight of numbers and the agony of earlier wounds from shooting. Astra Leonidus is down! Lysander still stands however, and this battle is not done yet.


From the end Ork objective, the valley almost seems peaceful, though the massive snarl of Orks at the far end is visible.


The Terminator line still holds, the Orks are just barely beginning to breach into the mouth of the valley.


The Immortal Host stands firm against the mass of Orks assailing them.


Orks and Kans assault the Templars on the right flank, only their Chaplain withstands the onslaught as he fells Orks left and right.


More Orks appear, surging forward, pressing against the backs of their fellows, eager to get to the fight.


Templars advance forward to offer support to the beleaguered front line.


The Imperial Fists advance in parade formation as well, reloading their bolters and chanting invocations of vengeance.


A titanic explosion rocks the field as a Looted Wagon is destroyed, scattering its occupants and sening a huge blast ripping across the Ork lines, claiming dozens of greenskins. All courtesy of the dakka Dread.


Not to be outdone, the Imperial Fist Terminators fire as well, exploding a Trukk and also sawing meaty holes in multiple nearby Ork squads.


Firepower is poured into the advancing Green Tide, shattering metal and rending flesh.


Then, with a howl of anger, the Templar spring to the attack.


“Face me, xenos scum!”
Lysander challenges the Mega-boss, who promptly just shoves a foolish Nob forward instead. Lysander smashes apart his foolish challenger and curses the Ork’s cowardice.


The Orks perform well (or…perhaps Marcus’ rolls perform badly…?) and the Immortal Host are cut down.


The battle is a furious one. Dozens of Orks fall, and quaver as the Terminators press their advantage.
“Leg it!” The Warbosses call for a retreat, but once they approach the mass of the other advancing Orks their men and they recover their bravery, after all, there’s just so many ladz, how can they lose?


Battlewagons surge forward as the Orks advance again, while Lysander and the remaining Templar form up and prepare to undergo more shooting.


The Ork forces muscle forward, trying to force their way through the valley by sheer weight of numbers.


“We’s the Orks, an’ we wuz made fer fightin’ an’ fer winnin’!”


The initial line is broken, as Ork forces finally enter the valley and bellow in glee.


Almost every part of the horde that can fires upon Lysander and the Templars, and the 3rd Captain goes down! Already too many heroes are too wounded to continue, can an Ork victory be far behind?


The Black Templar refuse to leave the side of their wounded progenitor chapter mate.


Bjorn the Fell Handed, staggered by Ork shooting, seeks a safe respite to recover.


“Hey…beakie! How many rokkits does it take ta get to da center of a Chapter Captain?”
“Damn you xenos!”
“Nah, da answer was lotsy-lots, good try though, hur-hur-hur!”


The Orks advance in force.


“Oi! Let’s kill da bananananay ones! (most Orks love to spell banana…they just don’t know when to end it)”


The Imperial Fists stand firm before the Ork charge, cutting down almost half of them in overwatch, and defeating the rest in hand to hand combat. The Black Templar from the first line are also assaulted, one of them falling leaving a lone warrior standing his ground.

Ghaz’s snazzy red battlewagon finds an opening and zooms forward, bringing one of the toughest Orks towards the front.

“Fall back, all units withdraw to the secondary line.


Ghaz and lads are forced from their ride by dint of the Imperials wrecking the red ‘urty wagon – which was not propah!


“We copy, we are ordered to withdraw to secondary line…”
The Templar advance.


In the assault the Black Templar do some damage, putting Ghaz within one wound of death and felling some of his bully boyz.


“Zog off, ‘umie!”


The Orks reply by…sending in more ladz! A Warboss and Nobz get out to deal with the ‘purty yella beakies’ whilst two other Warbosses and their mauled mobs pile in to aid Ghaz in dealing with the problematic Templar.


When in doubt, send in more boyz.


The third line and final gun emplacements ready themselves, soon they will be doing more than offering fire support.


It is also at this point that a group of Orks appears from out of a hidden mountain trail! Ephilates Da Reely Sneaky and his kunnin’ rokkit gits are here! The Orks laugh as they begin firing wildly at all available targets.


Heedless of the dangers of the valley, Blu Thunda reports for duty (he was sorta late what on account of drinking from the fuel lines and getting a little lost) he promptly adds some more dakka to the Ork forces.


The Fists withstand an impressive amount of shooting with no casualties, so the Nobz decided to go kick their heads in the old fashioned way.


The Orks are getting closer…and closer…


The lone Templar of the first defensive line finally succumbs to the ever pressing Ork hordes.


The Imperial Fists account for themselves well, felling many of the Nobz and actually winning the combat, though the Orks decide to stay stuck in.


The Nobz and Warboss are taken down, though the last Imperial Fists fall in the attempt.


Bjorn advances from his nook, attacking the Ork secondary ranks, his flamer burning down swarms of Orks as he advances on the Killa Kans.


“Come at us, xenos.”


Imperial shooting destroys Ephilates and his ladz, while other firepower continues to tear apart other priority targets, damaging and immobilizing vehicles left and right.


The Ork advance is suffering, as their ladz are starting to be bogged down trying to get around all the wrecked Battlewagons and tanks littering the battlefield. Blu Thunda decides “aw…Zog it!” and flies into the valley…unfortunately, there is a reason they didn’t just fly past the mountains, and he is blasted from the sky.


“Me only regret, is da big smokin’ hole in my fighta.”


The secondary line, aided by shattered Ork vehicle remains, is managing to hold. More firepower is unleashed at the Orks, picking apart bits and pieces and cluttering the battlefield even more.


The second line prepares itself for potential assault.


Despite the howls of the Warbosses, the Ork offense is faltering, as the Orks struggle to get to the foe.


Even Ghaz is forced to circle around damaged battlewagons, fearful of the Imperial firepower ahead.


Back at the entrance to the valley, Ork infantry streams around and between tanks and warmachines trying to roll forward, all clogging each other up.


“Whot is dis!?!


Z’Orkses Da Great fumes in frustration as he and the Im’Mork’Tals (or is that Im’Gork’Tals…?) arrive, but find themselves trapped back by the board edge, a disorganized and demoralized Ork horde milling about before them.


The Ork midfield.

At this point, the game is called, ending with 5 completed turns.


The Imperial graveyard is…rather crowded.


Just calling out with pride that I had to finish this guy up for the game, these things continue to be good painting motivation!

Even if he was pretty useless…

The Orks succeeded in killing 14 units (numbering 6 Dreads, multiple Chaplins, a Chapter Master, Lysander, a Librarian, and multiple squads of Termies) They also have Z’Orkses on the board, for a bonus 5 VPs.

Orks point total = 19!

The Imperium responds with having claimed via the kill tally – 303 Ork kills.

Imperium point total = 20.2!

THE IMPERIUM WINS!

The game was definitely interesting in that it had multiple moments where I think each side felt doomed. Which is usually a sign of a good game.

Imperium MVP

I think there are a number of good call outs here. My Termie squad did a silly amount of damage (destroying multiple vehicles, killing squads of Orks via bolter drill, and even winning a round of combat versus a fully loaded Nob Squad). There are also odd little heroes, like Bjorn killing off a bunch of Kans, and then using his Ven. Re-roll to ensure that he blew up on the Nobz destroying him. Or the Templar cyclone unit that provided massive fire support, wiping out multiple Ork mobz and killing Ephilates.

The generally agreed upon winner is the double autocannon Dread though, who exploded a Looted wagon creating a chain reaction that killed around 15 Orks off that alone. It also wounded Ghaz, helped down a battlewagon, and put a wound on the Ork Fighta.

Imperium WTF

There was some sadness for Astra Leonidus going down like he did, as well as some Immortal Host squads suddenly folding. And, so, the true WTF award goes to…the number one (and Marcus kind of wanted to claim this one himself) but, basically, all three Termie players really learned to hate the ones on their dice, and every one rolled was like a slap, and sometimes it went well (like with Lysander, who absorbed…a lot) but sometimes it was ‘four wounds, roll saves…I rolled four ones…derf!’

Ork MVP

I think the Deffkoptas. They managed to inflict a surprising amount of damage, and were always a threat but were hard to find the time to target and execute. They dealt with multiple Dreads, and certainly helped in whittling down multiple Termies, and every one of them that wasn’t part of the suicidal Turn 1 charge deny line more than made their points back over the course of the game. The other option is the Boom Gun Looted Wagons which…oddly, never rolled a ‘Don’t Press Dat’ (all the transport ones did, natch, it is John’s rolling…) and really did a solid number blasting apart tightly packed Termies.

Ork WTF

Basically…the battlewagons. Yeah. The Orks were actually doing pretty well against us, and after about Turn 2 they were just pressing forward and steamrolling everything in their way, and then…then we immobilized and destroyed some battlewagons and formed a big burning wall of Ork machine in the middle of the field, and suddenly Termies were safe because Orks couldn’t see them to dakka them to death, and Orks couldn’t get around the hunks easily to get off charges, and…well, frankly, it bought the Termies time to regroup and finally hoot down some other threats and take off a lot of pressure as Orks started to dribble in instead of managing to keep up constant pressure. Big life saver for us.

The Imperial Guard squadrons had commenced carpet bombing the valley once the Raven Guard Scouts had declared it a free fire zone. Marshall Melthas stood quietly, refusing to sit, but allowing the Apothecary to work over him and see to his wounds.

They had done it. The price had been high, and he felt a grim pain for every brother who had fallen in that furious melee in the cramped valley, but he and his fellow battle brothers had held, and had bought enough time for the reserves to arrive, though just barely at that. The Orks had still reached a critical mass, and even now he could see the Imperial fliers coming under attack from hidden Ork ack-ack arrays. No, this had been a victory, but a narrow one at best, and the war was far from over.

===========================

Gilgard had to admit he had probably drunk too much of the heady wine. Nearby Lothfalas sat quietly in a meditative pose, eyes closed, and a look of calm on his face, and that just annoyed Gilgard more as he took another swallow of the spiced and potent beverage.

Their Dark Eldar hosts had rescued them and patched up their wounds, and had even dragged him and Lothfalas along on a rather daring, if foul-hearted, raid to learn the fate of their kidnapped Farseer Diyneer. It galled Gilgard that they were counting on Dark Eldar to see to the safe return of Diyneer when both he and Lothfalas had been sworn to see to her security. Now, here they were, in some barren backwater of a planet, a frozen wasteland, crouching in the pleasure pavilions that the Dark Eldar had erected for themselves while they waged a strange terror war on the mon’keigh inhabitants, assuring them that it would see to Diyneer’s rescue.

“I grow sick of waiting,” he snarled. When Lothfalas didn’t respond Gilgard tossed the golden goblet across the tent. “I said I grow sick of waiting!”

“I heard you, and agree,” said Lothfalas softly, his bright blue eyes peeking open.

“So what do you suggest we do about it?”

“What can we do? You and I are not going to be able to rescue her alone, we need the Dark Eldar.”

“I don’t trust them.”

“I hear and agree, but,” Lothfalas shrugged, “what other option is there?”

“There are always other options than trusting the Eldarith Ynneas,” came an icy cold voice from the shadows in the corner. Gilgard jerked in surprise, grabbing out his shuriken pistol and pointing it at the shadows as a figure stepped forth from them. She was a slim Eldar, with dark kohl around her gleaming serious eyes set in a slim and smooth face. The delicate line of her jaw and soft skin jarred in sight against the hard green and angular armor marked with yellow and black banding, armor designed to indicate her role as an apex predator.

“Lady Aine,” Lothfalas rose quickly to his feet and bowed, casting a worried glance at Gilgard who took a moment to put it all into perspective and join Lothfalas in his bow.

Lady Aine, the Radiant Scorpion, Exarch of the Hidden Sting Shrine. If the Craftworld had awoken her and entreated to send her on a mission to find them it could mean only one thing. Lady Aine was not sent as a common messenger. The Radiant Scorpion did not deign to walk on a world for pleasure or amusement. If it had been agreed to let her out, it meant that the Council had met, and that the time that Diyneer had argued for had been declared enough, and that concern over the fate of the Elendil Thrakul had reached a fever pitch.

The songs were being sung.
The ancient bells had tolled.
The Eldar were going to war.