Recently I was involved in a tournament at my local game store “Meltdown Comics”. The tournament was a 2250 point 2 game, all you can drink affair called “Orktoberfest”. How can any self respecting nerd turn down unlimited beer and the chance to sow terror and carnage? You can’t. It’s like a nerd-aphrodisiac.
Wanting to pit my Beastmen army against overly competitive generals, I felt that my underdog team had something to prove. I felt that with enough guile, tricks, combinations and just reckless maneuvers; I could hold my own against the ‘uber-competitive armies’. Sure enough, the armies that were entered were very competitive: Deamons, Skaven, WoC…and me. The under-goat. (make your own ‘bleating’ sounds here)
Granted, I had no idea what armies would be present at the tournament, so I had to make an “all comers list”. An “all comers list” is an army list where you prepare for any and every army. The idea is that you have a list that can deal with most lists out there and can hold its own. This does not let you tailor your list versus particular armies, but you have to gear up for any and all challenges. I’ve never done this before so it was a BLAST! Below is my army list
2250 ORKTOBERFEST list.
2250 pt list “Ork-toberfest”
Beastlord= HA, Shield & HW, Chalice of dark rain, Crown of command (215)
- Unit is stubborn.
- Chalice of Dark Rain.
Doombull: 340: Axes of Khorgor. Ramhorn Helm, Charmed Shield, Talis-endurance
- Axes: reroll to hit CC
- Ironcurse: 6+ ward vs. warmachines for unit
- Ramhorn helm: any failed attk , make retaliation at basic str.
- Charmed Shield: discount first wound at 2+
- Talisman of End.: 4+ ward
- D3 impact hits
Slugtounge =190 (Death lore)
- Curse of Famine fiend.
- Lore of Death.
- Poisoned attacks.
Bray Shaman lvl 2: Stone of Spite, AHW, Dispel Scroll: 162 BEAST LORE
- Stone of spite: bound 4+
- Dispel Scroll
- Lore Of BEASTS
Wargor= BSB, Banner of the True Beast, HA, Sh, Gnarled Hide = 206
Banner of true beast: unit and model are +1 str.
Gor Herd x 28 AHW, Musician=248
- Primal Fury
- D6 impact hits
Ungor Spearmen x 32 Spears, Musician = 207
- Primal fury.
- Spear ranks
Ungor Raiders x5 Musician= 33
Ungor Raiders x 5 Musician = 33
Harpies x5 scout= 70
Bestigor x 23 Musician, Banner of the Eternal flame = 310
- Flaming attacks
Minotaurs x 3: AHW 177
- 1 impact hit per model.
With this list I was hoping to maximize on a few lessons and ideas.
Impact hits: these paid off huge versus Warriors of chaos. A cheap chariot took out many more elite Chosen. The impact hits drove them into the ground and broke them with a combined frontal charge.
Slugtounge: Curse of the famine fiend. This is the beastmen’s most reliable form of ‘shooting’. No, it’s not shooting, but essentially, it does about as much damage as most cannon batterys do. In previous games I’ve broken whole units and forced panic tests from the get go. Nasty as hell….not sure if it’s nice to do in friendly games…but this is a tournament and I expected every nasty trick thrown at me and I wasn’t going to get caught with my pants down for ‘uber attack #4019.9’ without a similar devious trick.
Minotaurs: Honestly, I don’t like minotaurs in my armies. However, after much recommendations from forums and lists I reconsidered. They have great killing potential, but they seldom make it to the fray near full force…or any force. Realizing that skaven were the new “hot army” and it was a guarantee that someone would have them there, I realized that I needed a brutal meat grinding unit that could just hack through ranks and sow fear and even a few stomp attacks.
Harpies: Again, heavily recommended. I had no harpy models. However, I did have some demon models and a few wings from a bits bin. So at 3 am, the night before the game, I was up converting and applying a base coat to these new creations. The idea is that their flight and scouting could put the hurt on enemy warmachines. A job that I usually reserve for my ungor raiders.
Stone of spite: prior to the tournament, I have yet to use this item. It makes arcane items detonate and causes a truckload of hits on typically weak models.
What would any army be without a backstory? Being a tournament list, and my first one, I felt that I didn’t have a real cohesive vibe in the army…then I thought about Slugtongue.
Oozing Pestilence: The famine Fiend’s blight.
Under every rock and stone, the carrion of the world live off decay. In the rotting feast of nature, the centipedes, the worms, the gastropods and all things foul thrive engorge themselves. The larger rocks shelter and yield larger crops of these teeming swarms of creatures that make men’s skin crawl.
Inevitably, if one was to turn over larger and larger rocks, you would find more impressive specimens of rot-eaters. Rocks to stone, stone to boulders…the creatures grow larger and larger. Swarm into horde, horde into army.
Every army has a general. Every army has a banner, a symbol that embodies them. In the foul dark crags of the world, Slugtounge was spawned as the epitome of rot and decay. Slugtounge was spawned to bring the decay and rot from out under the world and to rampage across the face of the world and see the works of men and all things cultured crumble.
As one, Beastmen fight and die in a frenzied effort to ruin the world, to stamp out all traces civilization. The foul pestilence of Slugtongue has imbued the “Famine Fiend” with a holy status among the Beastmen….a prophet of things to come; a harbinger of ruin. Crops wither before his foul hooves; livestock turn sterile when his scent carries on the wind. His words are dark stains on the air and as ominous omens as a murder of crows. Slugtongue is the rusted blade the beasts yield to cleave mankind’s taint from the world.
The sacred pestilence may be worshiped by the beasts, but among those with less savage emotions, those who work and create; his name is an infamous blight. Works of the “famine fiend” are spoke of with revulsion. Villages and provinces wiped out, with nothing left but gnawed bones and poisoned carrion. Death on the battlefield is something most men can face, but to be laid low by pox and boils is a death that causes even the most proud and brave knight pause.
In the grips of winter, the wretched form of Slugtongue calls upon the herd. Bathed in shadow and disease, the Famine Fiend whispers pestilence and promises ruin. With black words upon the chill air, the rotted spawn of ruin incites the Beast-Herd to war. With savage glee, the herd accepts the holy cause.
In the filth of the ground, in the rotting soil, the carrion and foul insects carry the blighted words of Slugtongue. The cacophony of crows and buzzards wail to the winds the whims of the fiend. Nature herself recoils at the disgusting lyrics of decay.
Rusted blades call.
Loathing hearts and tainted Blood.
Keen ear, heed my call.
Spew from the darkness,
Writhe from the encrusted altar,
Stampede to end all.
Dark Wicked disease,
Arm my herd. Strike down my foes.
Fortitude will fail.
The rusted blade calls
Pestilence wipe clean the world.
Rust. Rot. Ruin. Famine.
The Centigors stampeded through the woods, the words of the fiend turned to lice and parasites on their tongues. Bray Shaman felt the lure of ruin in their bones, drawn to war. Proud and mighty Beast Lords and aspiring warlords bowed their horned heads to the embodiment of decay. Minotaurs hefted cleavers and clubs for the wrath of ruin. The winds of magic shifted as the eye of the storm marched.
Slugtongue is loosed upon the world.
On that note…
LET THE PEW BEGIN!
First game was against Warriors of Chaos.
To the best of my knowledge, his army was as follows.
1 lvl 4 Sorcerer of Tzeentch (ouch…)
1 lvl 2 sorcerer undivided.
5 Chaos Knights.
5 Horsemen Maruader
50 Marauders with flails and Mark of Khorne
1 Warshrine (mark of Tzeentch)
25 Warriors of Chaos
(note: it’s been some time since the tourney…and there was a fair amount of beer involved, so please forgive anything that might not make 100% of sense.)
The Battle lines were drawn. Slugtounge watched as the mortals of chaos lined up. They were fighting for the same lords and gods attention. In their eyes, only the strong deserve rewards. Only the cunning and victorious would receive their blessings. Unknowing of Slugtongue’s potential, the warriors lined up, intent on fighting with noble savagery to earn glory in their god’s eyes.
Their center was anchored by a horde of Maruaders, flanked by the infamous and destructive warriors. The warshrine was to support them. The Lord of Tzeentch clearly meant to hit a flanking blow with his knights and horsemen as the enemy would typically falter on the lines of bloodthirsty knornate marauders.
In omens and visions, Slugtongue guided his generals. The Minotaurs of the herd were to hold the right flank and bear in on any enemy foolish enough to engage the herd. The center of the corrupted herd were the gors and Ungors…even enhanced by the ‘banner of the beast’. The general’s elite unit would form the left flank of the army, with ungor raiders running helter skelter to pepper any enemies with incoming fire. Harpies drawn by the slaughter would harass any enemies foolish enough to stray alone or any targets of opportunity.
When the lines were set, the armies staring each other across the battlefield, Slugtongue showed them why he is known as ‘the famine fiend’. Using the curse of the famine fiend, Slugtongue unleashed blighted havoc on the enemy. The toll was high, battle hardened troops fell to boils and puss. Armored killers sank to their knees.
Death toll of the Famine Fiend:
- 3 of 5 Maruader horsemen.
- 3 of 4 (or 4 of 5?) wounds on the war-shrine
- 3 Warriors of Chaos
- 4 Marauders
- 1 Hellcannon crew member
- 2 warhounds
The scent of death and decay on the air, the Warherd let out a triumphant roar and lunged forward.
Black wings bore the harpies to the decimated horsemen, harrying their flanks and denying them their full gallop. Ungor Raiders ran for the shelter of the woods and let loose an ineffective barrage on the horsemen. Ungor herd and Gor herd surged forward, eager for blood and battle. The elite Bestigors were restrained, they marched to the forests edge and anticipated the Chaos Knights’ charge into their brethren. Happy to sacrifice those weaker than them, the bestigors and the general were willing to let blood be spilled so that they could cleave and hack down the vaunted knights.
Minotaurs and chariots moved into the shelter of the temple ruins. The enemy Hellcannon could not rain down it’s destructive fire there. Ungor raiders moved along their flanks to send more ineffective arrows into the air.
Though promising, the winds of magic were only strong enough to allow Wyssan’s Wildform to go off without the near omnipotent dispelling of the Chaos lord.
The Tzeentch lord sent his minions into battle. The Marauders marched forward, flanked by the Warriors of Chaos…who, like the bestigors, used their brethren as bait. The Horsmen moved to the bestigors, while the knights moved slowly through the terrain. Hounds loped down the flanks, intent on becoming the next meal for the bloodthirsty minotaurs.
The flames of Tzeentch ate at the gor herd, but did little to stop the stampede.
Ungors threw themselves on the ranks of Marauders, eager for blood. The gor herd, joined by the weak raiders, charged the crippled war-shrine, smashing it into the ground and with the taste of victory on their tusks, faced the marauder’s ranks. The ungors fought with fury and strength, but died in droves. The marauders were winning this fight, but had yet to feel the wrath of the gor herd.
On the flank, the bestigors charged and hacked down the horsemen. Men and animal were cleaved in pieces as the frenzied bestigors over-ran them and were lost in battle thirst.
The minotaurs held their frenzy in check as they moved in the shadows of the temple. The chariot moved forward, setting it’s charge up. The minotaurs knew that the warriors of chaos were near. Their fight would decide the battle….or so the warriors thought….as the hounds fed the minotaurs and only whet their appetite.
The center of the battle swayed as more ungors fell to the marauders. Strength in numbers… and their lines held, for now. The Warriors of Chaos waited for the minotaurs…none too eager to engage the beasts. Even the hellcannon had little effect as all it’s shots sailed wide. Earth was split asunder and rained down upon the battle as the armies hacked and slashed with less finesse than rage.
From the throne of changes and magic, Tzeentch blessed his lord with the powers of magic and the winds shaped before him. Fires and ruin were hurled into the gors herd. Still drunk on the destruction of the vaunted warmachine, the gors cared little for the numbers that fell to the lord of change’s servant.
Enhanced by Wyssan’s wildform and the Beast Banner, the ungor herd held on to combat long enough for the trap to close. The chariot that lingered on the right flank slammed home into the lines of the Marauders, joined on the opposite flank by the reckless Gor Herd. Throwing men in initial the impact and the tuskagors, the chariot drove deep into the lines of men. The Gor Herd hacked and slashed violently at the exposed flanks of the khornate marauders.
The center of the battlefield was a malestrom of blood and violence. The storm had reached its crescendo and when the slaughter gave way for just a moment, the marauders realized that the battle had turned against them. They were surrounded..they were in peril…they must run!!
Seeing their enemy turn and run, the Gor herd gave chase and hacked the exposed cowards to bloody ribbons. The center of the battlefield was now the domain of the beast.
Seeing their chance, the Minotaurs ran into the fray and smashed into the lines of Warriors that were using the marauders as bait. The poacher was now caught by an unwanted predator….clever girl…
Though the most feared warriors in the lands, the mortals of chaos could not stand strong in the face of a stampeding herd of gluttonous minotaurs. Five warriors died to the inital impact of the minotaurs and four more died to the Doombull’s relentless attacks. Shards of chaos armor flew into the air, mingled with the blood of the former owners as the axes of Khorgor rent armor and cleaved bone, flesh and spirit.
The bestigors, eager to see the battle done, closed in on the flank of the chaos knights and their lord. Seeing the tide of war against him, the Lord of Tzeentch rallied his guard and fled the field, to fight again another day. After all, dying senselessly did not serve his lord….or him for that matter. He was just a pawn in Tzeentch’s eternal game, yet he could not help but to feel the mortal sting of defeat.