Savage Orcs vs Dwarves: The Fate of Gazarkhame

Big Pikkle blew gently on the slow match, bringing the burning tip to a bright orange glow. "How long before the charges detonate?" Little Pikkle asked him.

"Grungi alone knows," said Big Pikkle. The dwarven expedition had fought hard to get to the depths of Gazarkhame, suffering many defeats on the way.

Already the warp-spawned daemons controlled the upper levels, having beaten off every other contender. But if the dwarves could seal the entrance to this accursed hold, then their work would be done. It was only a matter of time.

"Holy greenskins!" shouted Little Pikkle. "Orcs!"

"Thrice-cursed savages!" Big Pikkle tore at his beard. The bitterest of their foes had chosen a fine moment to offer battle. He picked up his axe. "I shall lead out the hammerers to delay them. Our war machines will cover us. You must stay and defend the mining tower. Keep out the Grobi until the fuses blow, no matter what."

The Dwarves girded themselves for the final battle. Even at the cost of their lives, Gazarkhame must be buried.

Savage Orcs vs Warriors of Chaos: No Guts, No Glory

Bonekrunk scratched at the stitches around his neck. That stunty treasure couldn't be far off now, and yet another army had turned up to contest for it. In the dank caverns beneath the earth, his Waaagh! had been confronted by...

... well, he didn't know what they were. There was a bit of everything in this army. Marauder horsemen, dragon ogres, armoured warriors, chaos hounds and ogre bulls. No point in trying anything fancy, he decided. Just get stuck in and thump whatever's in front of you.

The chariot and giant both raced forward, eager to start fighting. But Ramgut's lads were dragging their feet again, arguing the toss over something or other. Bonekrunk was having doubts about his shaman's reliability, a feeling that wasn't assuaged when the Shaman suddenly bodged his spell and wounded himself with his own magical feedback.

Savage Orcs vs Skaven: Challenging Times

"Rats," spat Bonekrunk Stonesplitter.

"Wot's da matter?" asked Ramgut, eyeing his warboss for a sign of weakness.

"Rats," Bonekrunk pointed to the far end of the cavern. Two regiments of Skaven had emerged from the side tunnels of the Gazarkhame, almost as if they had been waiting for them.

One of the units was unusually well-ordered and clad in good armour, more like 'ooman soldiers than ratmen. Lumbering out before both troops was a disgusting mass of warped flesh - an Abomination from the dreaded Hell Pit.

"Scared, boss?" Shaman Ramgut was wondering if, once again, he would need to take charge of the Waaagh!

"Stoopid runt!" Bonekrunk clouted the shaman accross the head. "I ain't scared a' no squeaky warpstone-chewers! Now git over to Da Brave 'Arts and hold da flank. I'm taking da lads down the middle."

Savage Orcs vs Wood Elves: Gork Steps In

They must be getting close to the stunty treasure now, Shaman Ramgut thought, because the pointy eared tree-huggers had come out to play. He could see the puny units of archers and tree-people flitting around on the other side of the battlefield.

To his left, Bonekrunk Stonesplitter clattered forward, accompanied by the chariot and the giant, eager to get close. But after the disastrous start to their Waaagh!, Ramgut wasn't going to trust their bone-headed boss to do anything right. If they were going to win this battle, he would have to take charge.

Calling upon the power of Mork, he sought out the pointy-eared spellsinger who led the Wood Elf army. Ramgut saw the elf's surprise as crackling Waaagh! energy appeared in front of her and formed the shape of a grinning orc's head.

Daemons vs Warriors

K'zak, fresh from the glorious battle and massacre of the orcs, was feeling confident and marched the horde into the centre of the field again.

The cannon and Bloodcrushers took one flank, although the crushers were poised to head towards the ogres in the centre of the line, rather than around the outside.

The small unit of heavily-armoured warriors, led by their sorcerer lord, made station behind a wooden fence; the dragon ogres hid behind a forest; the ogres snarled and faced off against the horde; and on the right wing, war hounds and horsemen skipped forward uncontested.

Savage Orcs vs Daemons: the Skull Swapmeet

The horde of red daemons spread from one one end of the hill to the other. Next to it, a bizarre cannon appeared to be cruising around on the back on a weird chariot. On the far flank, three massive juggernauts pawed at the ground.

Bonekrunk Stonespitter licked his lips. His tribe were used to krumping tribes of nomadic humans in the dustlands of their home. This looked to be an altogether tougher prospect.

"Maybe give this one a miss, boss?" asked Grunt, the standard bearer of his Big 'Uns.

"Yer cowardly, git!" Bonekrunk spat back, adding a tap with his axe for good measure. "Dey is nuffik but a load of pansy imps! And we ain't missing out on that stunty bonanza!"

Unexpected Guests

For what it's worth, my army selection for the Woffboot would have gone as follows.

The U.N.

Command           

Baeloth the Unadorned 

Level 2 Chaos Sorceror with the Lore of Death, mounted on a Gorebeast Chariot and equipped with a Talisman of Endurance and Chaos Familiar- 330

Core                      

The Undaunted 

20 Chaos Warriors with shields, full command and a Gleaming (if Black) Pennant - 335

The Doom of Gazarkhame

Gorri Slatebreak set his heavy pack down and mopped his sweating brow with a blood-stained gauntlet. Behind him, the rest of the Ironbreakers moved into position, their grim faces crowded with determination. They were close now. Too close to give in to failure. 

They were exhausted, whittled down to a few survivors. The eerie stands of stone trees that sprouted everywhere in the dim caverns of Gazarkhame had taken their toll. Gorri had seen Dwarves turn into prancing, poetry-spouting lunatics, hugging the granite boles of the carvings as they capered. Those who'd managed to keep their brains from melting had been ambushed by Skaven, set upon by orc savages and stalked by lurking horrors from beyond. 

Those who were left were a vicious elite, determined to see their job done. And now they were here, finally, in the very deepest foundations of the hold. He glanced over across the the final cavern, a stony expanse of shadowy, tree-lined rock that could hide any number of foes. The two great foundation pillars stood proud in the centre, both carved with heart-sickening root and leaf emblems that spiralled upwards to the basements of the hold above. At least the stones at the base gave them a bit of cover, even if they'd been carved to look like roots and ferns.

The other engineer team was in position. What was left of their other forces were scattered through the cavern, hurriedly finding ambush positions or setting traps. There wasn't much time. 

Gorri knelt by his pack, adjusting the straps and quickly checking the contents. Fifteen sealed packets of the finest black powder, linked by fuses and primed with blasting caps. It was good to go, he just hoped he had enough time to set the packets into position. If they could destroy even one pillar, Gazarkhame would perish.

They would be too, of course. It was a suicide mission. But they'd all known that before they came. Gazarkhame had to be destroyed at any cost.

"Here they come!" hissed Duthri, grabbing his crossbow pointing out into the darkness. Gorri looked up - sure enough, shadowy forms were flitting from tree to tree in the outer limits of the cavern. "Gods, they're all round us! They're in the trees!"

Gorri narrowed his eyes, ground his teeth and then hefted the pack. Trees. Drong damn them, he'd see them all shattered or die trying. 

"Bring 'em all down!" he yelled, and scrambled into the thicket of stone roots.

The Doom of Gazarkhame is a Warhammer Narrative Battle Scenario for 2 or more players. 

New! 

Exciting! 

Completely Unplaytested!