Tactical Review: Massacre in the Narrows

Tim:

Well this game went very well for me from start to finish.

My wife, Gill, and I had played an almost duplicate game in the Narrows on pretty much the same board layout. In that game I took massive losses to shooting early on but managed to use the terrain to limit her ability to win by concentrating my dwindled forces on one part of her army at a time.

Recalling this, I laboured to recreate the same conditions... minus the loss to shooting.

I held back initially, hoping she would close, lowering her shooting accuracy then closed in as she approached. With stand and shoot Strength 5 Bolters, I had my work cut out for me but I managed to get my Exalted Bloodthirster, Prospertine, into combat on turn 2. After that he worked his way in from the right while my Bloodletters dished out the armour slashing attacks front and left.

Redeploying my entire fast left flank (Screamers and Seekers) so that she spent three turns in a traffic jam was also a game-winning move.

All in all there isn't anything I would have done differently.

Though it did look very dicey for a minute in the mid-game when the dice turned against me for a while.

Massacre in the Narrows

Tim (Daemons) vs Gill (Space Marines) 

The Men of Stone had forged south before into the Narrows and been repulsed.by the Daemons of the Pernicious Gate but they knew no fear. Lead by their brave lord, Felix Wulf, they pushed south immediately following their withdrawal.

Their determination to break through to the Pernicious Gate was without compromise.

But again they were caught in the hemmed-in defiles of the Narrows. And immediately the force of Daemons that came to meet them withdrew on the left flank, redeploying their faster elements elsewhere and leaving the mighty warriors and their fire sticks with no targets.

Prospertine crashed through the foliage, a towering Exalted Bloodthirster, and ripped apart the greater knights of Ebon Scar with his huge halberd.

Ploughing through them he struck the second line of warriors and ripped them apart as well, barely breaking stride.

The monstrous beasts that the Men of Stone held in thrall lumbered forward, goaded by the strange magics of the dark and silent warriors as Raptor Riders swept up alongside them, but Bloodletters bounded forward and hacked the Raptor Riders down.

And a Soulgrinder used its lethal claws to tear chunks from the mammoth that led the counter attack.

One of the Triceranoughts smashed into the Bloodletters, impaling several daemons on its horns, but the rest brought it down, Skulltaker himself hacking the gigantic head from its shoulders.

The Bloodletters pushed forward, attacking the second Triceranought but what they had done to one they could do to the next. It fell too as Prospertine led the daemons that had devastated the right flank and centre towards the last remaining knight.

The last knight fell, fighting valiantly, but he could not stand against such powerful adversaries on their home ground.

The daemons had used the terrain to their advantage and now, once again, they had thrown the Men of Stone back from the Narrows.

This time however their army was scattered, all elements of it thrown to the winds.

This land belonged to the Daemons!

Battle for the Narrows

Tim (Daemons of Chaos) vs Gill (Men of Stone) 

Deep in the Blood Wood, there is a place where the trees twine and thrust around dense and close-set rock formations - the perfect place for an ambush, and it was here the mighty knights of the Men of Stone set one.

Exactly as their whispering scouts had told the knightly lords, the burgeoning and chittering forces of the Daemons of the Pernicious Gate were flowing northward here in this cramped location.

The Men of Stone were ready.

Ranked in efficient gun lines they let fire at the striding behemoths, bringing down a Soul Grinder and a greater daemon before the soulless creatures even knew they were lying in wait. A shoal of Screamers fell next under a fusillade of mystical fire spat from the strange weapons the Knights of Ebon Scar carried.

Reacting quickly, the Horrors and Flamers fled east, concentrating their forces on the left flank of the Men of Stone.

But it wasn't going to save them.

The mighty dinosaurs that the Men of Stone's enchantments had coerced crashed into the oncoming Daemonic horde, crushing the second Soul Grinder, even as its death throes tore the beating heart from the Triceratops.

Then Bloodletters led by the indefatigable fiend Skulltaker sprinted int from the east, slaying first the Mammoth, then the Knights waiting beyond. And then the general and his bodyguard waiting beyond them!

They took casualties but they kept on coming, even though all had seemed lost.

Meanwhile, fully half of the mystically armoured  warriors were trapped between the narrow rock formations, struggling to redeploy into a useful position. And as they struggled they were picked off by searing flame and sorcery, hurled at them from lurking Horrors and Flamers of the dark god Tzeentch.

Where once an army had stood, smugly tearing down the daemonic advance, now, only a few Knights of Ebon Scar remained.

The daemons were unstoppable!

On the Painting Table: Men of Stone Space Marines!

Well the mighty Men of Stone are looking nice.

I've embellished them with shoulder pads from Scibor's SF range and love the way they look ranked up for games of Warhammer.

Incidentally, I'm planning to use these guys as Sternguard Veterans in my conventional 40k Space Marine army (though I may repaint them first with my new Crimson Blade colours).

I have a game with these guys coming up in the next three games so they should demonstrate their worth on the tabletop before you know it.

Vengeance of the Men of Stone

Men of Stone (Tim) vs Wood Elves (Gill) 

The Men of Stone had been ambushed and defeated in deep woods by a cowardly attack from both sides by the Wood Elves of Linwe.

But this time they controlled the theatre of battle. This time they determined the location and moment of attack.

This time they would utterly annihilate their enemies.

The Knights of Ebon Scar and their monstrous lizards caught the Wood Elves in the open and cracked the mass of their forces hard into the centre of the Elven phalanx, even a, far to the west, the Orcs did the same thing. 

 It didn't matter that the slim creatures fought hard, or that they took casualties themselves.

This was a battle that the Knights of Ebon Scar refused to lose.

 

With their huge Terminator knights crashing into the flailing claws of the Bloodwood Drakes, glistening magical blades brought down the great beasts.

The Knights were unstoppable and the Wood Elves of Linwe came to understand their folly in facing them. 

Massacre of the Men of Stone

Wood Elves (Gill) vs Men of Stone (Tim) 

 

Deep within Bloodroot Forest, Felix Wulf led his Men of Stone to war.

Down an ancient track through the trees the towering lizards moved slowly, the most powerful of the strange otherworldly knights marching steadily with them. They did not speak or pause for rest, but marched continuously, never breaking stride, utterly composed and focused.

Felix Wulf signalled the Sorcerer coming on behind that he would streak ahead to scout the path and ensure their safety then he and the mighty tyrannosaur disappeared in the gloom of the close forest path.

No sooner was he out of sight and earshot when the foliage broke as a massive Wood Elf contingent broke cover on both sides of the lane and attacked in sudden and deadly ambush; not one, but two of the frightening Bloodwood Drakes in their ranks. 

Confounded by the sudden onslaught, the Men of Stone turned about to attack but the Wood Elves were too swift and far too bitter from their previous defeat. Warhawks swept in from hidden branches and slew one of the lumbering creatures as flurries of bowfire brought down the second. 

The Men of Stone Sorcerer tried to conjure fell magics of the Sky Gods but fickle chance fumbled his incantations and a terrible explosion was unleashed in his very midst, slaying his own warriors.

The massive Terminator knights charged into the fray but their armour meant nought to the mighty dragons and they were slaughtered by tooth and claw. As the warriors fell the Wood Elves closed in further, wiping out a scouting party as they tried to relieve their comrades.

 The Sorcerer fell, his armour split and filled now with dark blood and the Knights of Ebon Scar were cut down until only one remained. He fought on against impossible odds and then he too, finally was slain.

Immediately, the Wood Elves melted from sight and fifteen minutes later, when Felix Wulf returned, all he found were the corpses.

The entire contingent had been massacred.

The Tale of the Knights of Ebon Scar - PART FOUR

The Raptor Riders of Ebon Scar

 
Each day, long range scouting parties returned to the Fell Bastion of Ebon Scar with further news of the lands beyond the mountain rim of the Vale of Embers. Slipping through the crack between the realm of the mighty Ogryns and the hellish Valley of the Skulls, they had spied another realm; this one ruled by humans: the triumphant Knights of Tempest Falls in the queendom of Tempestria.

Felix Wulf, knightly captain within Ebon Scar, received the news calmly, but did not send out envoys to broker alliance. Nor, however, did he seem to plan immediately for war. The Ogryns, Daemons and fey folk of the Bloodroot Forest were enemies enough for now and closer to hand; but he barked orders anew.

From the wreckage of their arrival on this world, some of his knights yet worked on the esoteric mechanical steeds they had brought with them: miraculous beasts without heads that roared still in rage when coaxed to action. But many of these beasts it seemed, had died in the great meteor's impact and Wulf ordered their riders to go now; to seek out new mounts from the terrible lizards of the Vale of Embers, such that, when the time came, they could meet these knights of Tempestria on their own terms.

The riders caught and captured smaller reptilian beasts, that elsewhere in the world were known as Cold Ones. These were sleek and vicious killers, every one, and the magical artifacts pressed into their skulls by the sorcerers of the Men of Stone did little to quell their aggression; though much to enhance their frenzy.

Taking up great shields and halberds and helmed in great plumed helmets, these Raptor Riders rode forth, quickly mastering these terrible beasts and becoming cavalry unsurpassed either near or far.

Their mechanical steeds were faster; but they had no jaws and no claws with which to rake flesh, and in these qualities, the raptors excelled.

The days were coming closer and closer now to war, as preparations reached fruition. Little remained now to be done before the outer world would learn of the terrible wrath of the Sky Gods.

Of the Knights of Ebon Scar.

Of the Men of Stone.

The Tale of the Knights of Ebon Scar - PART THREE

Terrible Lizards 

From out of the dank interior of the Fell Bastion, which now lay buried under a thick coating of ash, armoured warriors emerged carrying strange devices. These knights were huge, far bigger than the scouting parties, dressed in massive clunking suits of armour the colour of stone. Again, without word, they fanned out, cluster after cluster, seeking out the powerful lizards that populated the Vale of Embers.

Herding the mighty beasts with flame and lightning, the Knights of Ebon Scar drew many of them closer, setting up enclosures and trapping the beasts there. As soon as they were captured, other warriors began to study the creatures, experimenting on them with more of their strange contraptions.

All this was overseen by a great warrior never yet seen; a bald headed man dressed in pure white armour. Unlike the others who kept silent or only whispered, this one barked out orders in a strange tongue unknown within the lands of the Empire. It showed traits of the Tilian tongue but even that was alien to it. This warrior's name was Felix Wulf and he oversaw this strange new process as the warriors began to prod and goad the monsters, drilling esoteric cabinets to the sides of their heads.

The foes about them were many and the daemonic legions of the Pernicious Gate were especially threatening; but clearly the strength of the Men of Stone had been diminished by their turbulent entry into this world.

They recognised the strength of these terrible lizards and they planned to add it to their own.

As his men worked, Felix Wulf took up his Quake Clubs and ventured out into the wilds of the Vale of Embers, alone. Without fear he journeyed up into the forests and there faced the apex predator, the most powerful creature within the Border Princes, the dreaded Tyrannosaur.

Enraged in blood frenzy, the Tyrannosaur brought him to battle but such was the power of Wulf's strength at arms; such was the magic in his gigantic clubs; that he brought his attacker down.

Then he sat and waited for it to wake up.

When it did he departed, letting it follow his trail and again they came to battle. Again it was defeated. And again Felix waited.

The third time the beast attacked, its fury was like the tempest. It fought harder than any foe he had ever met and almost defeated him. Both warrior and dinosaur tumbled down a rocky slope, still fighting, still trying to kill. Trees were felled. Birds and animals fled. Still they fought.The sounds of battle could be heard at the Scar where the rest of the warriors continued to work, and then finally the cacophony ceased.

Days went by, and finally, as the work of the warriors came to an end, Felix Wulf returned to the camp, the great Tyrannosaur at his heel. Neither one had broken. Neither one had submitted. But a deep respect or predator to predator had been formed. Joined forever as twin-souled warriors were dinosaur and man.

And now the work was completed.

The terrible creatures of the Vale of Embers had been tamed by the magics of the Men of Stone, the strange cases attached to their skulls alternately making them docile and then, when needed, overcome by murderous fury.

With armoured shins and coils of razored blades around their ankles, the dinosaurs roared at the call of their powerful masters.

 It was almost time to go to war!

The Tale of the Knights of Ebon Scar - PART TWO

The Whisperers

The Knights of Ebon Scar went forth, encircling their strange bastion and then pushing outwards, clearing the land there of life and foes. In their arms they carried weapons that spat fire and flame, mystical and frightening devices never before seen, at least outside of distant Cathay. The huge lumbering reptiles fell back from this onslaught, realising quickly that these new inhabitants of the Vale of Embers were dangerous. 

Soon a camp was erected, the settlement of Ebon Scar fortified, the knights standing guard as strange sounds issued from the Fell Bastion. And all the time the gigantic warriors moved silently, never speaking out loud though somehow still knowing the mind of their masters behind their death masks. 

Then from the dark confines of the Fell Bastion, six more knights came, though these seemed not of the same ilk as their brethren. Though muscular and lean by the standards of the men of the Empire, these six did not adorn themselves in the thick armour of the other knights. Keeping light and mobile, they crept into the undergrowth at the edge of the still smouldering scar and crept away. 

Where the other knights had kept silent, this scouting party whispered; and though the words were far too quiet to be heard by their compatriots, somehow the meaning was again transferred as they slipped through the rocky undergrowth and slowly set out to explore this new realm.

There was no human life anywhere within the valley; only the huge and terrible lizards that existed here as, up until now, the undisputed rulers of this narrow land. The scouting party widened their search, heading up to the foothills and into the mountains themselves that hemmed in the vale. Their leader whispered into the tiny bead at his mouth and within the hour, miles away in the valley floor, other scouting parties left the Fell Bastion and slipped away in other directions. Soon, to every angle of the compass, scouting parties went forth to test the lands about for peril and opportunity, stealthily moving so they disturbed nothing, only eliminating beats they came across by necessity to clear a path. 

In time they reached the peaks and looked beyond the Vale of Embers into the adjoining valleys. To the north, the first scouting party looked out across the wide lands of the Empire. With eyes that were eagle sharp and esoteric devices of scrying that they placed to their eyes, they saw the tilled fields and tumbledown civilisation of mankind. With cold stares they assessed the threat these farmers posed and whispered again into the tiny beads at their throats. 

To the west the mountains grew tall, dense and snow-capped, but the whisperers pressed on undeterred. Bloodroot Forest crept up the sheer sides of the cliffs here and in the boughs and shadowed interior of the trees, the scouting party picked out flitting movement and watching eyes with their keen senses. However when the scouts moved in to investigate further, the shadowy cloaked figures withdrew. 

The scouting party whispered again into the beads at their lips then moved on. 

To the east, the furtive scouting parties spied huge lumbering creatures, bald-headed, heavily muscled Ogres that gave them pause but did not shock them as much as it might. Clearly, the scouts had seen such creatures before, far off in the mystical realm from whence they’d come. They remained hidden, whispering news of these observations again into their magic beads. Then quietly, for now, they slipped away. 

It was to the south east that the scouting parties fell silent suddenly, perhaps for the first time showing trepidation, if not outright fear. 

For the valley they beheld was corrupted beyond anything they had hitherto seen, the land itself blackened and distorted; mutated into an otherworldly hell of blood and screams of torment. The trees and rocks and creatures had been totally consumed by the power of chaos and cavorting and screeching daemons held sway here in total domination. 

The scouts looked at one another grimly. 

Despite the peril of their arrival on this world, they had thought themselves at least free from the power of Chaos. It was a foe they had faced all too many times and one they took no relish in meeting again. Though it was an enemy they would not shirk from.

Once again the scouting party whispered into the enchanted beads at their mouths and then cocked their heads as though listening, though no one was there to speak to them. Perhaps, somehow, they listened to the spirits for guidance for surely such powerful warriors must be in league with powers beyond mortal ken. 

After a moment they glanced once more down into the tainted valleys, then training their enchanted weapons on their back-trail, they slowly withdrew.

The Men of Stone had thought at first to remain in their Vale of Embers to await the time of their departure, to have little impact on this world. But there was Chaos here, a dark root of corruption that could not be ignored and would have to be exorcised without mercy or care. 

There was nothing for it. 

The Knights of Ebon Scar were going to war!

The Tale of the Knights of Ebon Scar - PART ONE

War in the Sky 

Come one and come all to listen to a legend, spoken of only in fear by the peasants of the Devil’s Pathway; of mighty warriors, dark portents and mighty battle. Come hear tell of the Men of Stone; the indomitable warriors; the powerful Knights of Ebon Scar. 

Deep in the heart of the Black Mountains lies a secluded valley cut off from the flow of time where huge reptilian creatures wander still, where once, in eons past, they might have wandered far. It is a place ne’er visited by man, for the fell lizards do not welcome visitors except with clashing jaws or crushing charges. It is a valley, known to the few who now remember it, as the Vale of Embers; so called because of the vats of volcanic embers that disgorge, at all times, drifting flakes of smouldering earth rock.

Despite the inevitable rumours of hidden riches, through the centuries, no one travelled to the Vale of Embers and no one made it their home.

That is, until the Night of Blazing Portent.

On this night, in coldest November, omens such as had never been recorded by human hands were seen in the night sky. Above the Border Princes, the stars were diminished by the flicker and flash of mystical light in the heavens. Like the fireworks of Nuln only infinitely brighter and far more foreboding, the outbreaks of light crashed and sundered the night along with peals like the deadliest of thunder.

Two thousand years before, a twin-tailed comet heralded the comic of Sigmar, greatest warrior of the known world, but now another comet came. Fearful peasants gazed up at it as it issued from the heart of the most spectacular and final flash of fell light in the sky. Surely this comet was portent of ill tidings. Surely it foretold of doom. 

 

Shutters were snapped; doors bolted. Charms were caressed and prayers made to Sigmar, Morr and other darker gods. But still the comet came.

And this time it did not pass in the night, vanishing like a shooting star. It grew and it grew; brighter and hotter, bigger and closer, until the night sky above the Border Princes was blazing on fire with its approach.

And then it fell, soaring over the Black Mountains. For one awful moment there was blackness, as it plunged into the Vale of Embers, and then the night was lit once more by a mighty explosion.

The smoke from it filled the Border Princes from the Black Mountains to the sea and all through the land, the people, animals and darker things, burrowed deep into their homes in terror. As far away as the Southlands and stout Kislev, the impact was heard and felt but none knew of the reason for this dread omen, save perhaps the silent Slaan in their far off ziggurats of stone. They knew what this portended and they shuddered with fear for the long awaited final phase of their plan was therefore soon to come as well. In their darkened chambers they started to initiate their scheme.

For weeks the smoke filled the sky; and in the Vale of Embers, those mighty lizards who had not perished in the blast gazed with uncomprehending eyes into the place of devastation where the comet had struck. It was a huge scar on the land; an ebon scar; that ran fully two miles before the trail of the comet reached its end. There, a huge glowing fortress lay upon its side as though flung down from the heavens; a mighty edifice of steel, fashioned by lore unknown and skills undreamt of. 

From where the mighty bastion had come, no one knew or could guess but clearly, it issued from some far flung mystical realm; some harbour of fell warriors who came now to take this land for their own.

For five days, the Bastion of Ebon Scar remained still and silent as the ash of its arrival slowly settled over it, cloaking the metal beneath layers of white. No sound was heard from within and no light issued from its doors.Until finally, on the sixth day, under the dark moon Morrslieb’s baleful glare, the drawbridge fell and illumination and steam came from within.

Striding from the smokey innards came warriors, never before seen on that great continent: armoured knights of such girth and strength; such indomitable armour; that no man could oppose them. 

The Knights of Ebon Scar paused at the foot of their drawbridge, silently turning their heads from one way to the next, looking out upon this Vale of Embers that was now their home. No speech came from their lips, but as though an inner voice instructed them on this quest, they all stepped into motion synchronistically. 

They strode off into the mists to establish this lands as theirs, and following them came many others. 

The Knights of Ebon Scar had come to the Old World. 

The Men of Stone had arrived.