Warlord Gildag fights Clan Skallagad
Greenskins versus Skaven, 2500 points. Home rules terrain set up.
“I could crush any foe with this lot,” boasted War Boss Gildag to his chariot riding Big Boss. “Look at ‘em - you got eyes. There’s nowt could stand against ‘em! Not little ratmen, that’s for sure!”
Surveying his force, Gildag meant what he said - this was no empty boast nor self-deception to make him feel better about his chances - he truly believed it. He had two companies of Boar Riders, two Boar Chariots, a Giant, three war machines, two big regiments of Orc Warriors, umpteen Orc and Goblin archers, Goblin Wolf Riders and two Shamans. Top all this off with his own magical axe and kickin’ boots and he reckoned any enemy was doomed.
“This is gonna be a good day for killing,” he mused, philosophically (for an orc).
Once the Big Boss had trundled off in his massive chariot, Gildag surveyed the field of battle ahead. Like everywhere in the Badlands it was a barren and unforgiving place, but even so he’d turned the lie of the land to his advantage. He had the higher ground on his right, and the enemy had rough ground and a huge rock messing up with their advance. Gildag’s only problem would be arraying his warriors so that they could all get stuck in.
He sent his archers to make a show of it on the right, with the goblin wolf riders out the farthest just in case the enemy tries some trickery and comes around the side. He reckoned that lot could hold their own while he concentrated all his strong units together, like the bunched fingers of Gork’s fist ready to punch the enemy’s face in. He kept his two Orc Boyz regiments together, leading one himself, and ordered the Big Boss to sort the chariots and Boar Riders and the half-cut Giant out on his left. Some goblins meandered out in front on that flank, but to be honest Gildag failed to notice. It was easy to forget about goblins, until they got in your way. The war machines he simply expected to fit in where they could, and prove themselves worthy of their supper.
He was satisfied, pretty much, with the line. When he saw the goblins to his left he laughed, thinking that they looked a little comical out there, faffing about with their short bows and looking busy - as if they could contribute anything to the fight! When he looked forwards, however, and saw the enemy line advancing, the smile left his face. There were a lot of them, and they had plenty of their damnable gunpowder and warpstone machines with them (and he knew full well how potent they could be).
“Better get in quick,” he thought to himself, satisfied that this must be a good plan what with him being a military genius and everything.
The Skaven clan Skallagad managed a much neater array than the Greenskins opposite them - almost exactly precisely lined up. Gildag was not wrong when he reckoned they had plenty of machines of war - they had two units of nine Jezzails, four Ratling guns, two War Lightning Cannons and two Warplock Engineers. All this as well as three huge spear armed Clanrat regiments, a big block of armoured Stormvermin and a body of Plague Monks out on their far left and facing the Arrer Boyz and Gobbos.
“More to kill than we thought,” shouted Gildag for his boyz to hear. “We’re gonna enjoy this, lads, eh?”
A cry went up from the orcs at the back, the ones who could not really see the foe properly: “Kill, kill, kill!” But at the front the orcs just silently mouthed the words whilst staring at the enemy and trying to do a bit of counting. None could count that high.
It was the Skaven who made the first move, and it was their machines that they chose to deploy. While the Warp Lightning cannon and Jezzails crept along the far right flank, to get around the huge rock in their way, the four Ratling teams bravely strolled out ahead of their regiments and began to warm up their weapons. The Rat Ogres positioned themselves on the near side of the rock, as if readying to deliver a flank charge at anything that might come to the front of the Skaven centre.
The Jezzails at the rear stayed put - they could already see the enemy and reckoned they were in range. When the first blast of magic and shot came it wasn’t that impressive, what with so many machines having busied themselves with moving. The Engineers failed to harm the chariots but the Jezzails killed one of the Doom Diver crew goblins, as well as damaging the machine itself.
As the Orcs started their own advance, they could see the grinning faces and large front teeth of the Ratling gun crews. They really looked like they were enjoying themselves, and their advance showed a cocky confidence that unnerved a number of the Greenskins.
It turned out that the goblin archers did get in the way, for just as the giant and the chariots were wanting to get up quick before being riddled with warpstone pellets and lightning, they found themselves somewhat blocked. One chariot bit the bullet (!) and headed off towards the far left flank, hoping to hit the Jezzails before being shot to pieces and thus chase them off the field. Meanwhile the rest of the force advanced as best they could. The boars outstripped the foot warriors, and came on quick on the left, some keen to put the rock between them and the enemy’s deadly guns.
One Ratling team was crushed by the magical Foot of Gork, the orc shaman responsible proudly and flamboyantly bowing after his spell was cast. None of the warriors noticed - they’d long since made a point of ignoring his antics. The Doom Diver killed three Jezzails and sent the others running in panic, a site which some of the orcs did notice - though they would never cheer goblins and so pretended not to see. The Plague Monks, however, proved made of strong stuff - for when twenty eight arrows in total flew at them, from Orcs and Wolf Riders, none were harmed. While the Goblin archers on the far right were busy squabbling, which meant the goblin shaman wasn’t doing what he should be doing either, the other goblin archers and the Bolt Throwers did shoot, but they could no bring down any of the Ratlings.
Both units of Boars were snorting and stomping, keen to throw themselves at the foe and start gouging and trampling, but they were not there yet!
Meanwhile the goblin wolf riders stared with disbelief at the unscratched Plague Monks, while one of them mumbled: “They got armour under them rags?”
The reply he got was the usual, “Dunno!”
The real shooting was about to begin.