Heres a short story written from a take and hold battle report between myself and a friend I put together recently. At this point its not intended to be part of a larger campaign but I enjoyed fluffing the fight up a bit to make it more about the backround of the game than the dice that decide the fates of the miniatures on the tabletop. Enjoy
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Boss Snikrot slid silently through the ruins, oozing from shadow to shadow as naturally as the shifts in the light as the sun occasionally broke through the thick banks of smoke that had brought a false dusk to the razed city. This invasion had been a risk, but Grakka's pay had been good. Teef were not an issue, his pay had been a promise. A promise of good hunting, challenging targets, the freely flowing blood of enemies and a great WAAAGH not seen since The Prophet set the galaxy on fire.
The sound of a small rock being kicked by a steel toed boot and skittering away broke Snikrots revelry. He rolled his eyes in exasperation. His current Kommando mob was good, but new. The lot was a right bit sneakier then your average lads, but to a seasoned killer like Snikrot they sounded like a herd of elephants blundering through the ruins of the small town.
"Wouldn't last a minute versus dem Catachans on Armageddon" he thought. Discipline would come later. Maybe his knives would do the talking if they didn't find any suitable prey.
>
Captain Philonius Marlowe of the 22nd Rochestian Infantry rubbed his eyes wearily at the green flashing display in front of him. He was a tall handsome man in his mid 30's with a regulation short cropped haircut prematurely greying at the temples. His uniform was the light green and black Camo of his regiment, covered with dark blue Flak armor. The only nod to his rank were the double Eagle epaulettes on his shoulders and the lack of regulation helmet required for the enlisted men.
He had spent the better part of the last 18 hours sitting at the cramped tactical display in the back of his command chimera. Marlowe brought up his rostor for what seemed like to 10th time that day to burn the available forces ito his memory. Besides his small command squad he was currently leading three Regular infantry units, a Mortar team, and two mounted veteran infantry squads. Courtesy of the 110th Elmiran armored Division were two Leman russ battle tanks, a Demolisher and a Hellhound for which Marlowe was thankful. His platoon had not seen any action since planetfall, but they were the steadfast veterans of several brutal campaigns. He knew the Orks they fought here relied heavily on motorized vehciles and without the Elmiran Armor his detachment would be quickly overwhelmed.
Also skulking about was a large man who called himself Marbo. Marlowe wasent sure if this was his real name, but he had been assigned as a Catachan attache to his command. Marbo didn't appear to have a unit of his own and his lack of respect for authority would have made any commisar within 10 kilometers spontaniously combust. He claimed he was hunting for someone. Farther attempts at prodding for information met only with a blank stare. Shortly after rolling into town, Marbo detached from the rest of the formation and dissapeared into the ruins, much to the relief of the men.
Captain Marlowe's Platoon had been assigned to defend a small city called "Contact Point". Legend stated that one of the many hills in the surrounding area was the place where long ago the Emperors Leigons first made contact during the glory days of Imperial expansion. The actual location has been lost to the march of time and as a result small shrines had grown on every local mountain, hill and noll within 5 klicks of the center of town. Due to reigonal politics over the last several generations the town had transformed into more of a campy tourist attraction then a holy site, causing the area to suffer ecomomic decline. The city was now home to approxmiately 22,000 inhabitants, living in mid to low income pre-Imperial design row homes with tithes paid by the failing tourism industry and the low grade promethium processing plants several kilometers to the South.
Typically it wouldn't have been assigned any tactical signifigance except that the mayor - an ex Guard colonel - had fed the local PDF reports of Ork activity building in the area. After several weeks of being passed around in circles ("delegation" according to the PDF) the information finally made it to Colonel Thom of the Rochestian 22nd who rushed Marlowe's men to the town to assess the threat and begin preparations for a larger Guard element in the city.
When Marlowes convoy rolled into the suburbs of the city 2 days hard riding later they found it had already been sacked. Nearly everything flammable had been set alight recently. Hundreds of civilian and several Ork corpses lay where they fell. The fires that had raged during the invasion had already burned themselves out, leaving the blackened shells of buildings standing like silent sentinels down the main boulevard. random habs had burned out to the point of collapse, choking the roads with debris that made navigation treacherous.
It was obvious that the Orks had been victorious. All of the Greenskin corpses checked had been robbed of their equipment and teeth. Few of the civilian bodies still had heads. The town had also been stripped of nearly every useful piece of scrap. The personal vehicles (too small and finicky for an Ork to be driven off outright) were drained of fuel, smashed, looted, then burned. Marlowe began to order his sentries back to begin a pull out when frantic reports began to come in from scout teams in the North.
The Ork advance could be heard before they even appeared on long range auspex scans. The cacophony of motorized vehicles, and more suprisingly still - the vocal and bestial shouts could be heard seconds before the black cloud of exhaust could be seen rising above the rows of empty houses on the far North side of town. Wether it was a clever trap or simply blind luck, a horde of Greenskins had come back for another fight. There was no pulling out now
Marlowe called up a tactical map of the area. The map, constantly updated as the recon teams picked through the rubble swam lazily into view. The city comprised of 2 main intersecting boulevards, with neat block shaped side streets branching off. The center of town comprised of a large grassy area, approxmitely 6 blocks in size. The undeveloped area - possibly a park in better days - was hemmed in on all sides by ruined structures, and commanded by a large barren hill in the center. The Southwest corner appeared to be the home of a small PDF bunker station. The Imperial forces would anchor on that station and fan out amongst the southern ruins for cover and await the Orks there. Marlowe only hoped that they could hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
WAAAAGH Grakka
The path of destruction now known as WAAAAGH Grakka started with the stagnation of the Armageddon War. After nearly two decades the battle still ground on, however it had transformed into an ugly trench war. The days of the mighty charges were nearly over and as a result many of the Warbosses that had pledged their alliegence to The Prophet began to look for other, easier ways to start trouble. In many ways the splintering of the Ork Waagh against the Imperial Anvil was worse then the now infamous war itself. Like Cockroaches after the light comes on, The Orks began to scatter in all directions seeking the next big scrap. Many of these splinters were easily contained by Imperial fleet, but it was impossible to stop them all and many local clusters were now suffering from constant raids. One of these splinters slowly began to gather momentum moving towards the galactic core. An old Warlord called Grakka Da Crakka began gathering all comers. Building vehicles, gargants and ships at a rate only achieveable by a swarm of motivated Orks.
Grakka, a devout disciple of the Kult of speed spent several years streaking from world to world, looting and pilliaging. Seeding the worlds for ork uprisings for generations to come, then dissapearing just as quickly. Within 20 years the horde had reached critical mass and the raids went from small border settlements and deathworld outposts to entire planets. As cunning and elusive as he was brutally efficient, no-one could seem to pinpoint where the next strike would come.
A break finally came when Grakka's fleet literally crashed into a small patrol of Cobra destroyers in the Garubba system. The Imperial ships were quickly overrun, but not before the signal was sent and a large fleet was quickly dispatched to try and cut off Grakka's rampage before it turned into a proper WAAAGH!
After several near misses and false leads generated by the sheer number of random Ork raids in the area, Grakka's hulk "Da Galaktic Curbstomppa" was sighted over the planet Garubba 4, a temperate, medium sized production and Imperial recruiting world with a population of approxmately 2 billion at the last census. The surface sparkled from orbit. Each Star was a small city, completely unaware of the carnage about to be unleashed. In 023.M42 Grakkas ladz swarmed the planet, followed several weeks later by the advance regiments of the Imperial Guard, including the 22nd, 44th and 73rd Rochestian and the 9th, 52nd and 110th Elmiran Armored divisions.
1
Captain Marlowe's line of battle was in place with barely minutes to spare. The bunker had been secured from a small band of unruly gretchin and after half an hour with a shovel and a hose the emplacement was ready to be filled with anything that needed to be secured. Infantry Leiutenant Musser and Leiutenant Dunlav of the Armored elements reported dug in and ready
Marlowe was just about to step outside of the Command Chimera for one last puff when his Vox man, Urdan Ferrel, came rushing around the support tank, nearly knocking Marlowe off his feet
"Sir! we have a call on the Vox sir, PDF channel"
"PDF? Is it regionall"?
"No sir, local! They were afraid to speak up until now sir". Typical of most PDF, it appeared the Garubbans spent a criminally small amount of their budget on defense. Each platoon may carry as little as single vox set, and unauthorized use was likely met with capitol punishment.
"FETHERS"! Marlowe hollered to the sky "The're going to get us all killed, Im guessing they need assistance"?
"Its a group of cadets sir, unarmed. The're requesting an extraction sir" Ferral continued
Marlowe pinched his temples, sighed and took the Vox from Ferrel. "Musser - Marlowe. I assume you've been listining to this. There's a structure at ....section 4 Charlie. Small unit of cadets. Zero defensibility, is there any chance of getting in and out before we're all meat"?
Musser's reply came through several seconds later "Yes sir, we relish the chance to get into the action, just dont pulp us while we're out there -Musser out- ".
This little distraction might compromise the integrity of the line, but before Marlowe could second guess his decision, the noise of the Ork advance reached a crescendo and a line of rickety vehicles could be seen clearing the buildings on the other side of the park. The battle had begun.
2
Warlord Grakka, Terror of Garubba rode out of the rubble into the park and smiled a huge ugly grin. This place was perfect. A clear unobstructed field to tear about in, and a load of squishy guardsmen to boot. His retinue of Nobz rolled their Warbikes up, positioning slightly behind their warleader, revving the powerful engines of their custom built hogs in anticipation. Grakka waited for the Trukks full of Ladz to break into the field, pointed towards the Imperial line with the wicked powerklaw he had claimed from a Chaos Dreadnaught in single combat and signaled for the attack to begin.
Marbo of Catachan bellied slowly through the long grass of the open field. keying his Vox to the defense channel on the far side of the field. "Firing solution, stationary target, sector Bravo nine. Indirect fire, fire at will".
At Grakka's staging point the ground erupted as the earth all around seemed to vaporize and fall into a large crater. To his left, the nob Daz seemed to evaporate into a green mist as large calibur shells and mortar rounds peppered the area. Smoke and debris filled the air and soon even the drone of engines was drowned out by the ferocity of the barrage.
To the east the 5 strong mob of Trukks surged forwards. The first to clear the ruins took a Demolisher shell that blew out the front end of the vehicle and sent it kareening into the ruins to the east where it exploded. A second Trukk was struck with a glancing hit from a battlecannon that shredded its tyres and left its cago of Boyz with no ride. The mob within took off on foot determined not to miss the scrap, leaving the driver and gunner with their stricken vehicle.
On the flanks of the field 2 Deffcoptas streaked ahead of the swarm, Power Klaws clamping expectantly, shrugging off the small arms fire from the entrenched Imperial troopers. A cheer went up the line as one of the Koptas began to trail smoke and fly erratically. The cheer however was short lived when, as if by the hand of some malevolent god the flying contraption managed to smash into the hellhound sitting hull down behind the bunker on the left flank, stunning the crew.
The right side of the line fared little better this early in the engagement. The speed of the Ork advance made targetting difficult, with large calibur shells flying wide of their intended targets, managing only to disable another one of the open topped Trukks. Just as the gunner in Lt. Dunlav's Russ "Hand of woe" keyed in on another target a great bang like the gong a huge steel bell resounded within the tank. Temporarily stunned with blood trickling from his left ear, Dunlav checked out through his scope and saw the second reported Kopta had somehow managed to reach the lines unmolested, and was now trying to break into his tank.
In the center Musser and his small detechment had been moving at speed in an attempt to reach the Cadets, who were now behind enemy lines. The initial barrage turned the middle of the field into a smoking ruin. Confident that nothing could have survived the combined attempts of 2 MBTs and a mortar team, the Chimera containing Mussers Stormtroopers and their escort Russ surged as fast as possible towards their target. A groan of dismay from the Chimera driver and a vox from the spotter aboard the escorting "Hand of Vengence" however seemed to indicate the impossible....
>
Grakka had rarely been more angry. The Imperial shelling had pinned his mob, but by Mork...or Gorks cunnin they had been able to hide in the crater that had vaporized Daz and took cover from the remainder of the shelling. Pulling out of their refuge the Bikers saw what could only be a gift from Gork... or Mork. Wasting no time Grakka ordered his remaining Nobz - Senri, Zerk, Gaz and Betch to kill the oncoming Leman russ, while he found out what da humiez kept in those fancy Chimeras.
Charging as fast as possible, Da Nobz reached their target first and with practiced familiarily forced the hatches on the Hand of Vengence and lobbed enough grenades inside to garuntee that whatever was left inside probably wasen't going to be edible when the looting came.
The lighter Chimera proved to be far more elusive. Despite his best efforts Grakka failed to make a telling blow on the transport. In less then 10 minutes Grakka had been pinned and now couldn't seem to break eggs if he dropped them off a cliff. He knew that if he didn't do something right killy soon, that his boyz might loose the unshakeable loyalty that came only with clubs to the head and the resulting string of challenges would stop the WAAAAGH in its tracks. In his desperation an epiphany came to Grakka like a bolt round to the skull. The idea was quickly forgotten, but then Grakka recalled a dirty trick his first Warboss had used to lure a Baneblade out for a kill long ago.
Slamming his foot into the earth Grakka slew his bike around in a perfect 180 degree turn, and zipped out several dozen meters directly into the Imperial tanks path, Cut his engine, flailed his arms for effect, and waited.
Back in the Chimera, the Driver looked to his gunner with a puzzled expression "What the Gak is he doing"? The gunner shrugged and rattled away a grouping of Heavy Bolter rounds that cut up the earth around the Monsterous stationary Ork. Swearing loudly, the gunner turned back to the driver and exclaimed "Feth it, run the bastard over"
Grakkas eyes twinkled with malice as the Chimera took the bait. Grakka deftly kicked his engine back to Idle and waited... waited until the Tank had come within barely 3 bike lengths. Grakka floored the powerful motor of his hog and slewed to the side of the oncoming tank, extending and igniting the Power Klaw and thrust it into the side of the Chimera, raking it from Stem to Stern as it passed, resulting in a series of muted booms as something critical inside the tank exploded. The tank ground to a halt and the rear hatch fell open releasing a volume of thick black smoke. The survivors of the Storm trooper squad stumbled out and took cover with professional ease. Now comes the fun part, thought Grakka as the huge ugly grin returned and he rumbled his bike into the obscuring smoke.
To the southwest of Mussers entanglement with Grakka, things at the bunker on the left of the Imperial lines had been realitively quiet since the fight began. The Imperials clutched their weapons tightly and stared hard had the large bank of smoke that obscured the far side of the field, waiting for something to come through.
Snikrot licked his big lips in anticipation. This was truely the best part of any hunt. His Thirteen strong Kommando mob lined up next to him, just out of arms reach and waited for the call. With with a nod from Snik and a mighty roar the Kommandos swept from behind the Imperial formation, overrunning them with astonishing speed. Several of the Boyz who couldn't make it into the main melee overran the waiting Hellhound and managed to disable its engines and weapons before the suprised crew could react. In less then a minute the Kommandos had secured the bunker and consolidated, setting the next target as the Imperial Mortar teams positioned merely yards away.
>
Marlowe watched in horror as the mass of Orks swarmed the bunker. They were a breed he had never seen before. Huge brutes with long knives and pistols let by a huge brute. They appeared to be wearing dark colored uniforms which that had been clumsily decorated with detritus and ash from the burned city. If they had been sitting still in the ruins one might have walked right by and never noticed the mob sitting right under their noses.
As the Kommandos swarmed over and dispatched the unfortunate Mortar teams Marlowe and his squad left the deathtrap of their command Chimera and made a seemingly suicidal run to the melee. Marlowes honor guard ignited their flamers and waited for as many of the retreating Imperials to get clear as possible before washing the Orks with cleansing flame. The screams were unholy, and after only a few seconds of sustained flame along with support from the Chimera all of the Kommandos lay dead and burning. The left flank was gone but the Bunker was still in Imperial hands. Marlowe coundn't spot the body of the huge knife wielding butcher that led the incursion, but there was no way anything could have survived the conflagration ..could there?
In the middle of the field Musser and his surviving men held cover next to their burning Chimera. There would be no reaching the cadets now. The smoke brought visibility to within 10 meters, and something was stalking them. The smoke seemed to catch and bounce the sound of the Bikes engine around as to make pinpointing its origin untraceable. Every now and then a shadow could be glimpsed but would dissapear again just as quickly.
Musser keyed his personal Vox "Easy boys, hold your fire. Dont let the bastard spook you. Wait for him to come to us, and lay down Melta fire when he commits. We're not going to loose anyone else today".
After what seemed like an eternity the Ork finally made his move. He was a massive brute. Bigger even then the Astartes Tactical Dreadnaught armored giants that Musser had once seen on Armageddon. He appeared to be riding something that looked like a Jet Engine with wheels positioned to the front and back like a charicture of a motorcycle. He wore huge Black boots, dark blue pants and a pink shirt nearly covered by the scrap armor and shoulder pads common amongst Ork Warriors. His right arm was hidden by a giant Power Klaw nearly as long as the Ork was tall.
A searing beam of light blazed across Musser's vision, leaving an after image that would take hours to fully clear. In the moments it took to register the monsters visage, it took an even shorter amount of time for the Melta shot to disintigrate the bike from under him. The giant Ork tumbled forward like a 600 pound rag doll, bouncing between two suprised Stormtroopers and dissapearing in the bank of smoke behind them.
Musser gave a thumbs up to the trooper who had shot down the Ork and looked back to the bike, now a burning pile of slag
"Do we hunt down the bastard sir"? Asked one of the troopers.
"No" replied Musser "This operation is over, we need to get back to Imperial lines and let them know whats coming"
With that, the remaining troopers crouched low and began their withdrawal into the ruins in the west.
>
Back at the ruins on the Ork side of the field, Zamag was having a bad day. It had taken him a full year of looting and mouth punching to get enough teef for this trukk, and in a second it was gone. A Leman russ shell had exploded right next to him at the start of the fight and shredded just about everything that made the Trukk go, gaining him the enmity of the Boyz he was transporting. The heavy staccato sound of the pintle mounted Big gun drew his attention to the only remaining crew member, Zamags pod mate and gunner, Arrgh. Arrgh was light in the brain department, even by Ork standards, but he loved going fast and his gunnery skills were uncanny. He was currently amusing himself by lacing the nearby wreck of another truck with automatic fire, and cackling gleefully as it melted away like a tin can being hit by buckshot.
The view on this side of the field was wide open due to a wind that had picked up from the east, keeping most of the worst of the smoke blowing away from this side of the field. Suddenly, Zamag heard Arrgh hoot and point towards a lone figure that simply wasent there just a moment ago. It was a big humie, and it had its back turned to the stricken Trukk. He lit something with a cigarette and tossed it out in front of him. Zamag couldn't see what the mans target was, but it ceased to matter as Arrgh unleashed a torrent of bullets towards whoever it was that dared to ignore them.
>
Morbo smiled. A motion indicated by the brief upward curling of the left side of his lips. He was too far away to confirm that Snikrot was dead, but at least he could help slow down the advance here. He infiltrated behind a large mob of Orks and lit his det charge. Tossing it hard enough to land just in front of the charging Orks, who promptly ran over the explosive and were consumed by a catastrophic explosion. There were no survivors. Marbo surveyed for his next target when suddenly a tracer round whipped past his ear close enough to melt the hair on the left side of his head. Before he could react he took hits to the meat of his leg and shoulder, blowing him forward several meters and landing him face first on the ground. Staying low and calm, Morbo wrenched open a pocket on his vest with his good arm and injected himself with several shots of a coagulant and painkiller he had "borrowed" from a medicae before leaving base. Hee then began to slowly crawl through to the cover of the eastern ruins. His part in the battle was over. He only hoped he had provided just enough distraction for the right flank to hold.
Lt. Dunla cursed again. No-one could seem to silence the infernal Deffkopta that had been harassing the Hand of Woe. The flying machine couldn't seem to penetrate the Leman Russ' thick armor, but the power field of its Claw knocked out all power as it struck another glancing blow to the tanks power plant. Dunla knew things were going badly. He had stopped getting reports from the Demolisher Hand of Grace and assumed that one of the large explosions earlier may have been its magazine detonating. As of last report the Hellhound was crippled and he had heard the Hand of Vengence's death call minutes earlier. A garbled transmission about the hatches being compromised before the line went dead. Marlowe was MIA and Dunlav could feel the situation was becoming dire. The last hit had temporarily knocked out the weapons systems, but he could still move the stricken tank. The Hand of Woe slowly began to reverse into the realitive safely of the Southern ruins. There at least he could make life difficult for the Kopta, get his guns back on line and help support the seemingly inevitiable retreat.
Marlowe was in the fight of his life. Everything had seemed to slow down to a snails crawl. Shouts were muffled slurrs in his ears and he saw the men in the infantry squad in front of him cut apart like animals. Apparently the squad of Biker Nobz who had just come from killing Mussers advance were now carving towards the PDF bunker. To his right Marlowe saw more Ork foot soldiers. Large menacing brutes, pile out of the two remaining Ramshackle transports and begin to cut into the remaining infantry, including the stormtroopers and thier transport. Casualties were horrendous on both sides, but while the Imperial line began to crumble, the Orks seemed to regard their own dead as a mere roadblock to the next combat.
He saw no other choice. Calling Ferrel over, Marlowe opened a Vox to command informing them of the severity of the Ork presence, and then switched to the local channel, ordering whoever was left to break off when possible and rendevous at the citys major crossroads where several transports stood waiting to extract. Barely half of them would roll out with soldiers inside. Marlowe and his squad moved around the field as best they could, supressing the Orks with flame while the remaining troopers broke and moved as quickly as possible to the extraction point.
Aftermath
Grakka sat up and rubbed his head. he looked in dismay and saw that his Klaw had been severed. It would cost alot of someone else's teef to get a Mek to fix it up with the non explosive variety of repairs. As he got to his feet he heard the low growl of a bike come up behind him. Senri and the nobz rolled up and sat around Grakka in a Semi circle, much too close then was normally thought safe.
Senri smiled an evil grin "Looks like yo huffin it Boss". The rest of the Nobz chortled
"Me and da Boyz have been finkin, dat a Boss wiffout a ride, iz no Boss at all. We was finkin dat me, bein da Biggest an Da strongest should be da Boss no-"
Senri was cut off by a Bolt round to his face, blowing out the back of his head in an impressive display.
Grakka lowered his smoking weapon, his features twisted into a dissapointed frown. "I didnt fink Senri 'ad dat much in dat fick skull" Grakka then fixed his glare on the remaining Nobz "Anyone else care to find sumfin ta say"?
The rest of the Nobz shifted in their saddles uncomfortably. Senri's challenge was considered bad form in Ork society. The fact that his intended victim was crippled and bikeless mattered slightly less than the knowledge that while the challenge resolved itself, the scrubs were looting all the good stuff. However Grakka blowing him away with a ranged weapon without so much as an insult about Senri's hypothetical mother was just as unsettling. To the Ork mind, 2 wrongs made a right and after several tense moments Gaz, being the next biggest and strongest shook his head nd said "No Boss"
Without another word, Grakka strode forwards, unceremoniously pulled the headless lump that was Senri from the saddle and took the bike for himself.
"Lets go boyz. We got lots of killin to do yet. ERE
WE GO"!
And with that Grakka and his remaining Nobz rode towards the swarm of Orks milling about after the departure of the Imperials to make sure none of the good loot dissapeared before they could get dibs.
Several klicks to the South, Marlowe rode at the head of the retreating column. They had gotten word out to Command who deemed to city too dangerous now to simply blitz, and plans were being drawn to contain and slowly squeeze the life out of the city. Whether the Orks would stay and fight, or simply roll out before the city could be enveloped was still to be determined. Lt. Musser and Dunlav had made contact and joined the convoy shortly after it left town. Having at least 1 MBT operational would give the remaining Imperials a fighting chance of making it back to the advance elements of the true invasion force.
Marbo had been found several kilometers down the road, he had lost a lot of blood but nothing was life threatining. He accepted no additional treatment from the combat medics, having sutured the wounds himself, but seemed almost greatful for the contraband Iho stick he was offered as he joined the troopers in the back of the last transport truck in line.
Boss Snikrot slinked through the ruins. He had been bayonetted and nearly incinerated, but fared much better then those slackers he had charged in with. This fight was over but Snik's bloodlust was not nearly sated. He resolved to allow his Orkish metabolism handle the wounds and moved southward by himself. There were reports coming in that a large number of refugees from Contact point had fled the city in that direction during the initial invasion, and they would provide sport for weeks to come.
To be continued..maybe. ...
