Brink of Doom: Warriors of Chaos vs Warriors of Chaos

Prologue

"I'm afraid, Morag," Phlothos said. 

"Good," she replied. A rocking mound of shuddering, mouldering blubber, her gape-faced head was level with his own despite the height advantage of his palanquin. Why she had transformed was obvious, her path to power was ahead of his own. The many gifts of Papa Nurgle had culminated in her horrific rebirth as a monstrous Daemon Princess. 

And yet her voice was little changed, the same mucoid hiss it had always been. Her mannerisms, her tender care for his own crapulent body, these too stayed with her. It felt odd to be nursed by such vile blasphemy against nature, but not unpleasantly so. Even now, she prepared a syringe to drain the worst of the excretions from his lungs.

He couldn't walk at all now. The strength in his legs was gone, replaced by spikes of agony. His lungs were plugged solid with a grey substance a little like decaying rubber. And yet his hatred remained powerful. With Morag's ministrations, he felt he had the best possible chance of enacting his vengeance. All the same, the pitiful state of his body left him feeling anxious. 

"Will we make it in time?" he asked Morag for the eighth time that night. 

"Oh yes, my sweet," drooled the daemon. "We'll be at the river soon. It marks the edge of the plains. Once we're over that, it's but a few short days to Karaz-a-Karak."

"A bridge?"

"Yes, ancient and strong. Marked with old magics, but quite safe now."

"A bridge," Phlothos said. "I don't like bridges. Ah, well. If you say it's safe, I believe you. To a quick and easy crossing, then!"

Morag grinned her hideous agreement, and then plunged the heavy bronze syringe into his chest. 

Put my head on a spike!
It's All-Skype Fight Night!

That time again already? Surely not! And yet here I am, General Kraken, typing away in standard font. 

Tonight, prepare yourselves for the thrill of a pair of Warriors of Chaos armies clashing over the lone crossing of a deadly ravine. Nurgle's homeboy Phlothos Orgmeier on one bank, hoping to make it over so he can settle a Dwarven grudge. 

And in the pink corner, golden hair tossing about like a Timotei commercial, Sigvald the Magnificent and the pretty young things of Slaanesh! (hair and make-up by General Stylus)

Our usual rules - a standard fight with 1600 points on either side, Blind deployment, Secret Boasts in play and a bunch of swamps on the table. 

But wait a minute, what's this....?

Armies

Warriors of Chaos - Nurgle

Morag, a Daemon Prince of Nurgle - Wizard Level 4 (Lore of Nurgle), Soul Feeder, Poisonous Slime, Dragonbane Gem, Sword of Striking

• Miasma
• Pestilent Blades
• Curse of the Leper
• Fleshy Abundance

Phlothos Orgmeier, an Exalted Hero of Nurgle - Mark of Nurgle, Scaled Skin, Shield, Filth Mace, Palanquin

Two Chariots of Chaos

18 Chaos Warriors - Mark of Nurgle, Full Command, Banner of Discipline, Shields

Big Wurm, a Chaos Giant of Nurgle

A Warshrine of Nurgle

After previously being killed when a malfunctioning spell sucked her into the Realm of Chaos, I decided Morag could be legitimately fielded with the fairly significant upgrade of Daemon Princehood. A lot of decrepit eggs in one basket, true, but the kind of basket you can smash whole blocks of troops to pieces with. Especially with the safe knowledge that my opponent has the same brief shooting phase that I do. 

Otherwise, an increasingly familiar lineup that sees power-hitter Pholothos commanding a big block of troops with a Warshine nearby to boost both him and them, and some nasty flanking power in the form of a Giant and two chariots. 

Warshrine and Chaos Warriors, with Phlothos ensconced.

Flankers.

Morag. She brings her own lunch.

Warriors of Chaos - Slaanesh

• Sigvald the Magnificent - Shield, Silverslash, Auric Armour
• Lascivious, Chaos Sorcerer - Lv 2, Hand Weapon, Chaos Armour, Mark of Slaanesh, Chaos Familiar, Dispel Scroll, Seed of Rebirth
• Acquiescence, Hysterical Frenzy, Phantasmagoria
• Wulfrik the Wanderer - Sword, Chaos Armour, Shield
• 16 x Chaos Warriors - Hand Weapons, Chaos Armour, Shield. Mark of Slaanesh. Full Command. Gleaming Pennant.
• 14 x Chaos Marauders - Flails. Mark of Slaanesh. Full Command.
• 5 x Hellstriders - Hellscourges, Shields. Musician.
• 1 x Chimera - Flaming Breath, Regenerating Flesh

My first run-out with the Ruinous Powers, and I'll freely admit to getting carried away once I started reading through the rulebook (ahh, the lure...). Being fluffy of heart, I knew I was going monogod - Tzeentch is the more natural antagonist to Nurgle, but I knew Kraken couldn't stand Slaanesh, so that was my pick.

Warriors and Hellstriders

Chaos Warriors were a given. I took a small unit of Marauders to escort Wulfrik and ambush with him. The Hellstriders were taken for theme, rather than effectiveness (I love their movement, but they'll be unlikely to dent so much as a chariot - I even ditched the more-useful spears because I wanted to try hellscourges).

Chimera

It was a shame I could only afford a Lv2 Sorcerer, so I added a Chaos Familiar just to give me more a play with the Slaanesh spells (again, Shadow would probably have been better, but I didn't want to waste the chance to try out a new deck). And the Chimera ... well, who doesn't want a Chimera?

Wulfric and his Merry Men

Picking one special character is unusual for me, much less two, but I realised I was spending wildly among the magic items and mutations for the characters, so I may as well get some special rules too. I was dubious about how effective Wulfrik would be against such a hard army, but he may be able to draw out a wizard in a challenge and the ambushing factor would give me some mobility.

Sigvald
Hang on ... an preening narcissist who is a deadly duellist and rendered stupid by his own self-image - am I just fielding my WFRP character?

Sigvald I was relying on mostly for his Stubborn and general survivability (although 7 ASP attacks isn't bad either). I was planning to keep my unit of Chaos Warriors as an anvil and let all my faster moving element destroy or delay his support units until we could all converge.

At least that was the plan. My secret boast was Assassinate, as I was hoping Wulfrick and the crew of the Seafang could sneak in and do the business.

Terrain

Because I was sick of my own bloody swamps For a bit of extra tactical challenge, I pulled out a map split diagonally by an impassable ravine. A bridge spans the centre, with various buildings and forests around for cover. And the hills at either end of the bridge also possess magical statues.

After some debate (we wanted flavour, but nothing likely to randomly swing the battle in one side's favour), Stylus and I decided that the statues would be shifting between two states. Rolling at the start of each turn would either see them both being Bane Stones (+1 to wound rolls for units within 6") or Magic Circles (MR (2) to units within 6").

And we remembered to roll for them more than 50% of the time, which was better than hoped. And I do believe they made not a jot of impact on the game (although in fairness, we generally rolled MR - which was rendered useless as we were both mostly packing buffs and hexes).

Terrain

Given that we were both deploying blind, and that you could deploy on either side of the chasm, you'd have to decide whether to hold one side solidly or split your forces. Which would depend on what your opponent might do, and where you thought he might do it...

Deployment

Sigvald idly tweaked the nipples of his breastplate. He hoped this Nurgle chap would show himself soon. The morning mist was starting to affect the bounce and shine of his hair.

"Beauteous lord?" the depraved Sorcerer Lascivious was bending a knee to him. "The diseased ones approach. I regret that your fair eyes will have to endure the foul sight of them."

"This entire realm is an affront to my fair eyes" Sigvald yawned. "Pray tell me: is Phlothos amongst them?"

"He is, oh Scion of Slaanesh. He has not yet crossed the canyon, although his allies have: chariots, a giant and ... something far more terrible."

"No matter. Wulfrik and his salt-stinking crew can deal with Phlothos as they planned. Whatever is on this side of the divide is mine to claim."

Sigvald gave the tiniest flick of the Silverslash. At this demonstration of this prowess, the entourage of Warriors broke into enthusiastic applause.

Taken for a signal to advance, the Hellstriders whipped their mounts forward. Sigvald nodded in approval at such expert whipping. "And push Gertie across the canyon too," he instructed the sorcerer, indication the great  Chimera to their left. "Phlothos has become formidable, and our Norse ally may need some aid."

Sigvald stifled a yawn. The world was collapsing under the might of the dark gods, and yet he was sent here, to deliver some stinking assassin against a renegade champion. He knew not why, but the Prince of Pleasure could keep his secrets. Sigvald was resourceful enough to find his own amusement once battle began.

Slaanesh Deploys

"Lords," came the voice of a scout. 

"What is it, Bloathe?" Phlothos asked. 

"I've returned from the road ahead. A warband. Enemies. Servants of the Joy Lord. They hold the other side of the bridge."

"They'll get no pleasure from us," Phlothos chuckled, dragging himself upright in the throne. "Morag, take Wurm and the chariots. Get ahead of us and over the bridge fast before the sun's up. Once we start to cross, the enemy will try to stop us. Hit them in the side hard. Then we march on to the Karak!"

Final Deployment

Final Deployment in Real Life. Or, you know, a 28mm fantasy representation of it. Whatever! Look, I didn't have time to scratch build an impassable chasm, so I used a scarf. Sue me.

Slaanesh Turn 1

At an urging from its masters, the Chimera swept back its wings and soared across the canyon. It cleared the flank of the Warriors and Warshrine, all three heads baying for carnage.

On the other flank, with such a speed that they too might have been flying, the Hellstriders surged forward and arrived on the flank of the furthest chariot, taunting them with little flicks of their whips.

"My two arms have gone out to my brethren," Sigvald mused into his mirror shield. "Ready to enfold them into my tender embrace." He nodded to the Sorcerer. "Get the party started."

Lascivious called forth rapturous visions upon the Warriors, sending them into an Hysterical Frenzy of ecstasy. The Lord of Pleasure was smiling upon them, and none were injured by this gift.

"Now let them come to me."

Nurgle Turn 1

A Chimera!

Phlothos hadn't killed one of those since they'd left the Northern Wastes. Good. He could use something to limber up, his shoulders were feeling pretty tight after so much sitting in the chair. And it would be one in the handsome blue eye of that Slaaneshi Lord, too. Thinking he could bully them off the bridge with a mere Chimera.

The surging nurglings beneath his throne instantly trotted to obey his unspoken command. Pulling ahead from the Warrior pack, the palanquin lurched towards the triple-headed beast with a series of farting burbling noises, perhaps somewhat less dramatically imposing that the impression Phlothos wanted to give.

On the other side of the bridge, Morag pushed her way into a stand of trees, heading for the Slaaneshi Warriors. Behind her, Big Wurm had clearly decided to try and kill some of the writhing daemon steeds riding towards their rear. He'd never catch them, but Morag was happy to let him try. Between her and the chariots, she was confident the enemy would be easy meat.

She began drawing power to her, ready to unleash it. A gift of endless regrowth for the giant, that was easy enough. Then a simple plague of leprosy for the shrieking sado-masochists ahead. Being unable to feel the agony of a lash because your flesh was stone dead and rotting would be certain to take the thrill out of it.

Slaanesh Turn 2

Sigvald laughed as the Hellstriders danced around that lumbering giant. They could keep this up all day and the stupid brute would never lay a rotting finger on them.

Wulfrik had also made a timely appearance, his Seafang crew linking up with the Chimera to take Phlothos in the rear. He wouldn't have thought Wulfrik would be into that sort of thing. 

Despite these promising signs, Sigvald scratched with irriation at a tiny blemish on his skin, a residue of the Nurgle spell that had left his entourage weak as a newly-flensed slave. "Is this permanent?" he demanded.

"Oh no, my succulent sire," Lascivious cringed, "their magic is no match for your unearthly demeanour."

"Well, I'm not going into combat in this state. We hold here until my complexion is restored. Get rid of that frenzy and cast no further spells until I say so. I want all your attention on me."

"How could it be elsewhere, oh dazzling one. But not even a little spell?"

"No!"

Nurgle Turn 2

Where the putrecent hells had those Marauders come from? And was that... yes! He knew that banner, as he knew the trophy-racked warrior who tramped beneath it. Wulfrik the Wanderer, of all people. They'd met before, once, a long time ago. 

Phlothos sneezed commands and his Warriors twisted round to face the new foes, making way for his rusting throne as the nurglings squeezed their way back into the midst of the ranks. A Chimera alone was one thing, but backed by the threat of Wulfric he wasn't taking any chances. 

Morag broke out of the trees and ran to the far side of the bridge. The gnarled statues, little more than weather-beaten stubs of limestone now, pulsed with fell energy as though to welcome her. Or warn her away? She couldn't tell. Nothing that could harm her, at any rate. The chariots were also round the forest, behind which she could hear Big Wurm thumping about and yelling, although she doubted he was actually connecting with anything. 

There - in the pack of fit, good-looking Warriors was a sorceror. No matter, a mere stripling with a bare streak of power in his frame. Nothing to worry her. Coughing up a huge, puissant and stinking bezoar, Morag leavened it with spells of blessed disease and hurled it towards Phlothos, her beloved champion. 

The sorceror lanced the putrid clump with a slender blue streak of energy mere seconds after it left her hand. Scowling, she turned back to face him. He waved and blew her a kiss. 

Slaanesh Turn 3

Springing forward with a roar of terror, the Chimera charged at Phlothos' Warriors. At the mere sight of the beast, the Nurgle Warriors broke and fled.

Sigvald smoothed his perfectly-shaped eyebrows with satisfaction. These lesser disciples had no staying-power, lacking the enchanted visions of the Dark Prince to keep them steady in battle.

Wulfrik's crew also charged the Warriors, forcing them to flee once again towards the precipice of the canyon. One of the bloated creatures toppled in, falling far to his doom.

And then, unbelievably, they let Phlothos get away. Both Chimera and Marauders gave up the chase and instead smashed into the closer target of the Warshrine. Sigvald was agape at such incompetence - he'd be dusting off the manacles tonight.

"Do we advance, my flawless prince?" the aspiring champion asked.

"No. I wish to chastise something. Fetch me the bucket of soapy frogs."

At least the Hellstriders were sticking to the plan, scooting their deamonic mounts past the giant and to within spitting distance of the two chariots.

Finally permitted to cast something, Lascivious sent a flurry of sparkling clouds at the advancing Daemon Princess, causing her to drift into daydreams.

Adding to the confusion, the Sorcerer conjured up a Phantasmagoria of sprites to confuse and bewilder the Nurgle Warriors as they teetered on the edge of oblivion.

On the far side of the canyon, Wulfrik made short work of the Warshrine, with the Chimera running down what remained. Noneless Sigvald was unsatisfied at such base incompetance: Phlothos lived!

Nurgle Turn 3

"Stop! STOP!" Phlothos bellowed. 

The headlong rush away from the malevolent screams of the Chimera abated, but only just. And less because of his shouted orders, which he suspected none of his helmeted warriors had even heard, but because another of them had been shoved over the edge of the ravine and was even now drowning noisily in the rapids below. 

There was relative silence for a moment. Something in his chest popped unpleasantly. 

"Form up," he growled. "This will not stand!"

Reluctantly, the Warriors of Nurgle turned back to face the foe. Silvery laughter carried across the ravine to Phlothos's ears. Sigwald was laughing at them. 

Morag's vision reeled and swayed. She could hear the rumblings of the chariots nearby, and the mocking hoots of the Hellstriders as they kited Big Wurm round the battlefield. But there were bigger fish to flay. There was the Chimera! No, there! Both of them! It was beckoning her with that snake-fanged tail. It wanted to talk. She'd show it. She'd give it what for. 

Stumbling through a pink fog, she swung and slashed at phasms. 

Slaanesh Turn 4

The Hellstriders spun on their hooves and dashed back around the Giant, laughing all the way.

Having aroused its appetite on a Warshrine, the Chimera raced across the battlefield and took up position beside a ruined tower, ready to pounce on any prey than came in sight of its six eyes.

By contrast, Wulfrik seemed to have lost all sense of urgency and just held fast with his crew, taunting the Nurgle Warriors in a dozen tongues.

"Very well," Sigvald yawned. "I suppose we had better show them how it is done."

Treading lighting over the muddy battlefield, to avoid any stain on his armour, the Geld Prince tool his entourage out to face the two chariots.

Lascivious once again called upon them visions of Hysterical Frenzy until one Warrior could endure it no longer, ripping his own flesh apart in a mad ecstasy.

"This pleases me," Sigvald purred. "This pleases me greatly."

Nurgle Turn 4

"Charge them!" Phlothos ordered. Or tried to, at least. Mostly, he just spluttered and snorted and tried to avoid drowning on his own mucus. 

Confused, the Warriors broke into a gentle trot, then slowed. Should they attack or not? Were these spasms the sign of some imminent transformation? Should they bow and worship their decaying master as he began his final ascent? 

Morag shook off the last strands of hynotic illusion in time to realise she was about to charge at an entirely imaginary Chimera. That damned sorcerer, he'd mazed her right to the very edge of the chasm! There was nothing to fight here. 

Turning, she saw the two chariots crack their whips and leap forward, smashing headlong into the Slaaneshi scum. A couple of the less nimble fighters were run down in seconds, but the rest simple dodged out of the way. 

All except their leader. With an effortless-seeming skip, Sigwald sprang into the air, landing directly on the harness of the first chariot. Dancing down it, sword slashing gaily to either side, he left jetting gouts of blood in the air from the team. And with a quick aerial somersault, he landed boot-first on the driver's face, slicing his companion's arm off with an equally quick slash. As the driver fell sideways with a cry, he dragged the reins with him. 

Sigwald vaulted clear, rolled and sprang upright with a graceful bow as the chariot jack-knifed, flipped and crashed, his own easy poise counterpointed beautifully by the mess of the broken warmachine. 

The second chariot skidded and turned, trying to get away from the overwhelming unit of warriors before they could finish it. Morag smiled as their manouver clipped the Slaaneshi sorceror, knocking him over temporarily, but it was a brief smile. 

Big Wurm was chasing after the Chimera, her champion had yet to even cross the bridge. She'd have to deal with this puffed-up show-off herself.

Slaanesh Turn 5

The moment was nigh. All that remained was to deliver the final stroke.

"Everyone charge!" Sigvald's fair voice rang out of the battlefield.

Every soul pledged to Slaanesh did their best to obey. And that's where it all went wrong.

Before the Warriors could charge the fleeing chariot, the Hellstriders beat them to it. The chariot sped away to safety and the Slaaneshi cavalry skidded to a halt right in front of the Warriors, who now could charge no-one!

Sigvald ground his perfect teeth. Enemies all around and he could reach none of the because of the eagerness of those Hellstriders!

Over the canyon, Wulfrik's crew had finally found their courage and smashed into Phlothos' Warriors, although perhaps they had bitten off more than they could chew. In anticipation of that, Sigvald gestured at the Chimera to stop teasing the Giant and occupy the bridge, so at least their flank would be secure.

Eager to please the infuriated Scion of Slaanesh, Lascivious drank deeply from the winds of magic, hoping to aid the Marauders in their fight. The magic tapped was too great to control however, and though the Seafang crew were imbued with a mad frenzy of pleasure, the resulting backlash drained Lascivious of all power and knowledge.

The Sorcerer cuddled his Familiar, hoping its one spell would help maintain the illusion that he was still a spellcaster. He would hate to think what Sigvald would do if he were to be considered expendable.

As the spell took hold, several of the Marauders died instantly, unable to cope with such frenzied delights. More still died to the swords of the Nurgle Warriors, their superior skill and armour easily outmatching the Marauders' wild, flailing attacks.

Standing in the very centre of his crew, Wulfrik called out Phlothos by his true name, knowing he would be unable to resist answering the challenge. The Eternal Challenger struck first, taking first blood from the bloated form. In reply, Phlothos leaned over his palanquin and struck down his enemy with a crashing blow from his mace.

With calls of "protect the capt'n!" the surviving crew of the Seafang grabbed hold of Wulfrik's fallen body and fed back to their ship. The Warriors let them escape, reforming to cross the bridge and seek worthier fores.

Sigvald's gleaming pauldron lifted slightly as he gave a slight shrug. If he lived, Wulfrik would have to answer for his failure. But there was still plenty of sport left to make his own offering to the Prince of Chaos.

Nurgle Turn 5

Now! Now while their blood was up, Phlothos pressed his men forward again. If they'd been daunted by the Chimera before, they'd forgotten it now. They hammered forward, weapons ready and shields up.

Morag took a running leap into the flank of the Slaaneshi cohort. Wading through the insignificant mortals around her, she called her challenge. Seeing her lone onslaught, the fleeing chariot hit the brakes hard and turned for another pass.

She threw out a last few blessings as she shouted. Phlothos could deal with the monster easily enough, but the men at his side were less capable. A plethora of protective tumours would ease any blow the monster could deal. And then a second great queasy surge of power, and she'd surrounded herself with a stinking pall of gas. Slaaneshi warriors staggered away from her, puking and screaming.

Sigwald slipped through his recoiling ranks, saluting her with his whip-like sword as he accepted the challenge.

Then the fight began in earnest. Sigwald was on her in an instant, fluidly moving from one strike to the next with an almost admirable ease. Almost, because Morag found it quite hard to admire anyone sticking a length of mercury-bright steel into the middle of some of her favourite sores. Pus flowed slickly in all directions.

Try as she might, she couldn't swat the gnat-like fencer. She settled instead for slamming the ground with both feet hard enough that Sigwald was bowled over by the shockwave. Before he could rise, she tried to stamp on him, but the speed he moved at beggared belief. This was going to take longer than she thought.

As the Warriors closed with the Chimera, a roaring torrent of fire rushed to greet them. Phlothos's palanquin turned away, a few straggling nurglings bursting into oddly fungal shapes under the wash of heat, like mouldering popcorn. If the swerve took him out of mace-striking range, at least it had saved his hide.

Practised at dealing with such creatures, his men merely sheltered behind their shields until the fire breath subsided, then ran in, hacking and slashing. The Chimera gave as good as it got, crushing one Warrior under its claws and tearing another in half between two of its heads. But his men were too disciplined to let it focus, keeping it at bay with a shield ring and cutting the tendons in one of its back legs. It wouldn't last long.

Slaanesh Turn 6

The Seafang Marauders turned around to watch the contest, but felt no obligation to hazard themselves to save Sigvald's flawless skin.

For the Hellstriders, however, there could be no more running. Aghast at having comprised their lord's battle plan, they threw their steeds into the path of the Giant, offering their own lives to spare his.

Lascivious pulled together his last shreds of will, trying to force his Familiar's spell onto the Nurgle Warriors, slowing them down enough to give the Chimera a chance to strike. But his effort was foiled and the beast crashed to the ground under the weight of attacks from Phlothos and the Warriors. Even locked in single combat, this Daemon Prince was more than a match for his sorcery.

Sigvald breathed hard, the rush of blood bringing an attractive pinkish hue to his cheeks. This creature was a foe worthy of the battle. She may even prove to be a superior prize to Phlothos himself. Sigvald darted forward, once again spilling the poisonous ichor that ran through its veins as blood.

When the creature struck back, it took all of Sigvald's skill and luck, not to mention the impenetrable Auric Armour, to avoid injury. But he was most blessed of Slaanesh, and would fall to no Nurgle spawn. The Geld Prince spread his arms wide in a gesture of defiance. The Daemon Prince raised up one massive foot directly above him...

Nurgle Turn 6

Finally, Big Wurm caught up with the Hellstriders. Cackling hugely with ugly glee, he threw his club in the air, brought his headlong charge to a surprisingly well-timed halt and span round, doubling over.

The scornful cultists lashed at his buttocks with their whips, but they didn't know what the giant had planned. With a terrible ripping noise, the giant voided his bowels violently over the perfumed riders.

Outraged, befouled, they reeled. But held, too horrified to flee or even fight back. Rocking with laughter, the giant sat in front of them clutching his sides.

Phlothos slammed forward, swinging his filthy mace in joyous battle. A swipe terminated in the crown of some glitter-bedecked princeling, mashing his head into ruin. A second left long septic tears in the chest of another. Morag needed help, he could see. Her enemy might be wounded, but by Nurgle's bubbling boils he was fast!

Around him, his warrior band hacked and chopped at their jaded opponents. It was a worthy display of prowess, armoured champion on armoured champion. But the Warriors of Nurgle held the edge, the enemy falling back slightly as though unwilling to dirty their blades.

The remaining chariot ploughed across the back line of the Slaaneshites, snapping legs and arms. Halberds slammed into shoulders, rusted goads slapped at eyes. He was nearly through! Nearly at Morag's side, ready to fight alongside her.

Morag fell.

The shining silver of Sigwald's shield was spattered with muck and gore. The Lord himself was panting, his perfect coiffure plastered to his face and his breastplate bearing a three-toed dent where Morag had stood on him.

But his horribly flexible sword was wrapped round Morag's neck, locked there, and he had his knee jammed into the Daemon's back. Before Phlothos could even shout in dismay, the fine edge of the sword tore clean through Morag's flabby neck.

His revenge was going to be taken from him after all.

Result

796 (Nurgle) vs 806 (Slaanesh)

...and then we remembered our Boasts! We'd both played Assassinate. Oh, Morag.

796 (Nurgle) vs 906 (Slaanesh)

That's an 11:9 victory to the fiends in lavender.

Analysis

What a splendid fight! And settled by a climactic duel in the very last round of the fight, no less.

I made it hard for myself to make it as close as it was, mind you. No BSB is a nasty risk for WoC in my experience, and swapping one of Morag's levels for a banner for Phlothos would have prevented my expensive troops running headlong into the ditch. This seemed even worse at the time it happened than it was, because I thought running into impassable terrain got you wiped out. Thankfully that's a well-nerfed rule in 8th ed.

Why oh why oh why do I persist in trying to do anything about fast cavalry? The Giant, had he stuck with the chariots, would have made it into combat with the Slaaneshi Warriors at the same time. But no, I had to go faffing about in the woods with the tit-horses.

Charging the warrior block without a bit more aid made it a rather slim prospect (I was hoping to damage them badly rather than win), and whiffing my impact hits made it pretty one-sided. I look (askance) at Sigwald with a certain respect, he's sure built for combat. Just too Slaaneshi for my taste.

Magically, I got a swap in my choices and I think I should have picked Rancid Visitations rather than Fleshy Abundance in hindsight. A bit of shooting could probably have dealt with the Hellstriders, for example. As it was, it made for a very entertaining Hex-off, with some very tense decisions on what to cast and in what order.

Oh, I do like Chaos. I don't think I've played a battle where I've made two massive errors and still managed to squeak a win. That's clearly a dark power looking after me. I wonder if painting up a wee Slaaneshi-themed army would be a sufficient offering to them...

Massive Error 1: having had the extraordinary luck to have the warriors flee my Chimera, why did I not just compete the charge and destroy them? Instead I got all fancy-fancy with charging again with the Marauders (because, at the time, I also thought that impassible terrain meant instant deletion for fleeing units), then redirecting into the Warshrine. In my defence, I couldn't see just how close the Chimera was - I'd assumed I was going to fail the charge, rather than make the overrun with ease.

Massive Error 2: another snafu with charges and redirections that resulted in my Hellstriders going nose-to-nose with the Warriors and neither going anywhere. I knew as soon as I started the process of charging that I'd got it wrong: what I wanted to do was charge Warriors into Chariot > redirect into Giant, which Sigvald was sure to kill and then re-charge the Chariot with the Hellstriders. Having got it backwards, I left myself in a right pickle. Still, it's all a learning curve.

Speaking of the Hellstriders, apart from that slip, they did a fine job of delaying Kraken's left flank (there was a moment when he'd used the Giant and two Chariots to try and box them in, before realising that was insane). I still maintain they weren't much good against this type of army, but for superfast march-blocking and redirecting, there are worse ways to spend 100pts.

Yeah. Looking at them, none of the the stuff they were dancing round was really under any remote threat from them, poisonous steed attacks aside. I should have just ignored them totally.

I liked the lore of Slaanesh too - shame I didn't get any direct damage spells, but I managed to hang on during the magic phases (despite a paltry 3-dice phase on two occasions!)

Wulfrik and co. weren't up to much, but this wasn't the best battle for him - there were only two characters and both were out of his league. At least the ambushers kept the Warriors busy on the wrong side of the canyon.

But a great battle - lots of swings and some extreme luck (Kraken whiffed a lot of attacks that should have pulverised my troops and I got very lucky with armour and parry saves in the final challenge). In summary, there was only one reason I won:

Sigvald. Was. Magnificent.

Epilogue

Sigvald whipped Silverslash back and forth, shaking from it the last drops of daemon blood. Such an invigorating combat, a shame he'd had to kill his opponent. She had been able to inflict pain with such medical precision, he'd have welcomed her into his entourage.

"Oh fairest of them all," the Sorcerer fawned his way forward. "The field is ours. The Chimera has been roused and the thumbscrews applied to the deviant Hellstriders."

"I see nothing on their thumbs."

"The instruments have not been attached to their hands, oh gracious one."

"Very good. And Phlothos?"

"Has left the battle in good condition," Lascious sniffed with contempt. "Or at least, the same condition as when he arrived."

Sigvald cared not. He had turned the bloated one aside, and given his Dark Master the soul of a Deamon Prince into the bargain. He would play no further role in the story of Phlothos Orgmeier. his destiny lay to the North, where great deeds awaited great men. With great hair.