Qipatzli reined in his Cold One, the reptilian beast giving a braying moan before lumbering to a halt. The Scar-veteran stared ahead into the mist, the orange light of the rising sun beginning to make the dense, white fog glow like an amorphous star. Behind him, the dew-dampened long grass was rustling, flaring and retracting blue crests and bird calls the only sign of the score-and-a-half of skinks he had taken from the city as they spread out.

There was an animal snort behind him – he looked round, his yellow eyes focussing on Lotl Botl as his spawning-brother rode forwards, the two Scar-veterans’ bodyguard of Cold One Riders staring ahead into the mists with a stony, impassive gaze.

Qipatzli straightened up in the saddle, making a broad gesture with his left arm towards a cluster of jagged boulders, in which the towering remnants of a pair of ancient statues could be made out through the shreds of fog. Behind them, a ragged patch of the jungle rose, trying to reclaim the pampas plains.

“Take Kroq and move into the trees. Keep the New Ones busy if they try to pass you.”

The grizzled Saurus gave a curt nod, unsheathing his double-handed, stone-toothed sword and swinging his heavy-built mount around with a savage kick of his clawed feet, cantering away through the long grass. A roaring call, indistinguishable from the beasts of the jungle that the New Ones would have been hearing day upon night, summoned Kroq – the grass rustled as the third Saurus warrior strode over towards the woods, following his mounted brother. The lone warrior’s shape seemed to flicker, shifting shadows hinting at some lean, predatory beast overlaying the menacing silhouette of the veteran.

Qipatzli looked straight ahead again. The New Ones were ahead: their leader was intelligent enough to understand that they were being followed, and that their chances of outrunning their pursuers were infinitesimally tiny. Ahead, the ground began to rise towards the Sotek’s Spine mountains – here was where they would make their stand. In the open, as well, outside the dense cover of the trees – the debased elves had had enough of a head start to clear the shadows of the canopy before Qipatzli’s force could reach them. Even so, the scouts had caught their rearguard before they could break the tree-cover – a fanged snarl, the closest his reptilian features could stretch to a grin, broke his face as he looked up at the feathered standard of his riders. As far as he could tell, the elf they had nailed there was still alive, and a New One of some importance. His armour and weaponry had been quite ornate, which was generally how one judged things with the infant races.

The mist was beginning to clear, the heat of the sun clearing it with a treacherous speed. Looking round, Qipatzli gave a bellowed roar, commanding the Stegadon and Kroxigor forwards behind the fanning lines of skinks - riding over to the right flank, he took up position with his riders, his cold gaze sweeping the woods to the left and right as he registered the progress of his spawning-brothers and the skink scouts. The New Ones would learn the price of trespass in Lustria this day…


Sylak looked irritably about, the clinging mist beading in droplets of moisture on his armour as he surveyed the force of Druchii warriors he had arrayed on the hill. A full quarter of his force was missing – and he could swear the foul birds and beasts that infested this land had grown quieter, the eerie silence punctuated only by the dull flapping of his troops’ sodden banners in the breeze. The occasional feral roars that broke the quiet were not reassuring.

His angrily flicking eyes caught sight of the sorceress Maugri, sitting calmly atop a coal-black horse to the right of his infantry on the hill. His cloak billowing out behind him as he wrenched his own steed around, he cantered around in front of the serried ranks of his warriors, glaring at her.
“Where is Varl?” he hissed as he trotted up next to her, keeping his voice down. “He should have been here hours ago.”
“You expect me to know, lord?” questioned the sorceress, her calm, monotone patience infuriating. “I assumed you were in control of the… tactical situation.”
Sylak seethed. Any of his lieutenants, he could, would have had killed for such a comment. As it was, he only had one mage. She was valuable.
“However,” she broke in to his private fury, “I would advise that, if you still intend to continue this venture, you ensure that everything is loaded and sharp and so forth. They are upon us.”
“They have mages? Your sight tells you this?”
“No – ah, I see your warriors have seen it too...”
Sylak whirled round in the saddle – sure enough the ranks of spear-elves were shifting and muttering, the pale eddies of fear playing across their expressions. Something huge was looming through the mists on their right – a vast beast, its huge, crested head studded with three immense horns. Lifting its monstrous beak, it gave a screeching, inhuman roar, the swaying howdah of lizards on its back swinging to one side as its massive neck-muscles tensed, swinging its baleful, animal gaze from side to side. To the thing’s right, a swarm of the lesser lizards were emerging from the grass, javelins and golden shields clutched in their scaled hands, and behind them, great creatures with double-handed axes, twice the height of an elf. Their long, muscled jaws snapped and yawned, white fangs flashing in the dull morning light.

Sylak gave a curse, riding back along the line towards his riders on the left.
“Ready the Reapers!” he called out, catching sight of another line of lizard-daemons emerging from the mist. Six of their warrior-caste, sitting astride Cold Ones – one of them was clearly the leader, a polished bone helm adorning his bestial head. The creature was bellowing orders, another swarm of crested reptiles scurrying into view on the monster’s right as he made a sweeping gesture with his stone-tipped spear. The trees were rustling too, far out on the Druchii left – skinks flitted through the shadows, golden javelin-heads glinting momentarily before vanishing into darkness. The horses were bridling, shaking their heads and rearing in fear as the sudden line of monsters swung nearer, each creature moving at no more than a walk through the fine, swaying strands of yellowed grass.

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the standard of the leader’s mounted bodyguard – beneath the bobbing plume of crimson feathers, a familiar figure was spread-eagled, blood dribbling from where he had been nailed to the wooden face of the totem. It was Varl.
It seems we now know what befell the rearguard… came Maugri’s voice in his head. He had become far too used to the sorceress’ imperious telepathy to be surprised – raising his own jagged lance, he gave the signal to ready for battle. The lizard-beasts would pay threefold in blood for every Druchii they had slain.


I had a map sequence and everything, but suddenly the board willnae let me use it. It never had a problem with picturetrail before... anyhoo, for those interested in the more tactical elements of the battle, open this in a separate window. Start at the bottom, with the key, then work up through the maps. Ignore everything below the big glowing N plaque on the menu - those are other images I store (e.g. the N is the New Post symbol for Rezephua).

The link: http://www.picturetrail.com/gallery/view?p...89492&members=1

(I'm aware the writing's very small on the key - a problem with the host. I can still read it, if you can't you'll have to guess :P )

Dark Elf Turn 1

Sylak shouted a command as the riders on his left began to start forwards, holding them in place around the Reaper they were guarding. He knew his men held the high ground – if he let his forces be tempted forwards, the reptiles would take them apart.
“Aim for the leader!” he called, riding up and down so that both warmachine crews could see him. The riders were unholstering their crossbows too, the elegant repeater designs’ ornate metalwork glimmering. Levelling them as one, they let loose a scything volley at the skinks moving to shield the Cold Ones – golden shields flashed, but one of the crested lizardmen fell, scarlet blood splashing over its bulging throat from where the barbed bolt had impaled its neck. The diminutive lizardmen faltered for a moment – all the Reaper crews needed, as a hissing volley from the deadly mechanisms of the warmachines scythed past them, ripping two of the Saurus riders from their mounts in violent sprays of red. On the far right, the unit of riders he had placed in reserve against any lizard-beasts who might emerge from the woods swung round on his lieutenant Klaus’ order, their own spray of black-fletched bolts going wide of the skinks running in front of the terrifying row of axe-wielding Kroxigor.

Maugri cursed under her breath. Better accuracy than this would be necessary to stop the scaled savages. Seeing the unharmed skinks ahead of her, she rode forwards, bringing her steed to a halt just behind the level of the nearby riders before raising her right hand, a cold, bluish nimbus of light playing around her outstretched fingers. Chanting the words of an incantation, she prepared to unleash sorcerous death upon the line of crested reptiles – as she shrieked the final word, she jerked back in her saddle, the wych-lights around her hand stuttering and fading as a green sigil flared across her vision, leaving its glowing imprint on the underside of her eyelids. Recovering herself, she looked around – clearly the lizard beasts had magical protection of their own, although she could see no mage…

Lizardman Turn 1

Qipatzli looked to his left, signalling the central portion of the line to advance. The skinks and Kroxigor broke into a run, the Stegadon lumbering along beside them as it picked up speed. A greatbow shot whistled over the heads of the waiting Druchii warriors, burying itself in the ground by the Reaper as it overshot horrendously. Turning back to his own men, he shouted for the skinks to form a screen, the little lizards dashing into the way of the Reaper on the Lizardman right as the riders advanced behind them. Qipatzli himself was galloping over to the far right of the line, wrenching his mount round at the end of the run to face the riders who were shielding the bolt thrower, the scouts emerging from the woods and hurrying past him as they made for the light cavalrymen, shielding their leader from the warmachine’s deadly attentions.

Over on the left, Lotl Botl cursed as a babirussa, terrified by the noise of battle, finally found the courage to bolt from the undergrowth, squealing across the clear path he was riding along and sending his mount bounding after it with a roar of glee. Wrenching hard on the reins to keep it away long enough for the pig to escape, he roared in rage as the Cold One reared, snapping its jaws at the cruel rider that was keeping it from its prey. By the time he had brought it under control, Kroq had already vanished into the cover of the trees, slipping fluidly between the low, gnarled branches like liquid shadow. Peering through the spaces, he thought he could see a flash of orange heraldry, of a black horse’s flank – the elven riders were in for a painful surprise if Kroq caught them.


Dark Elf Turn 2

Klaus hissed in sudden alarm as he saw something move on the edge of the forest ahead of him, approaching the flank of the riders under his command – he bellowed a warning and charged as the Saurus seemed to materialise out of nowhere, a great stone-toothed axe in its hands. For a moment, the figure was completely clear, its reptilian head flicking from side to side as it took in the charging noble and the riders, swinging their horses desperately round to attack – deciding that it was decisively outnumbered, the lizard-daemon seemed to blur for a moment before disappearing into the trees. The Druchii horses faltered, then came to a standstill, their target gone.

Maugri cursed as the riders swung away at the thing in the woods, her eyes darting back – she was alone, and the Stegadon was right in front of her, the skinks on the howdah bring the creaking great bow to bear on her torso. The arrow was too large to aim more specifically – knowing it would take too much time to turn around, she spurred her steed into motion, galloping through the gap between the great beast and the axe-wielding monsters to its right, a lone javelin thudding into the ground behind her as the skinks in the howdah reacted far too slowly. Swinging her horse around, she called the dark energies to her once more, both hands flaring with icy light – feeling the strange force that had halted her last time rise in her hindbrain, she unleashed the spell before the savages’ anti-magic could take effect, a scything wind of cold slashing out past the lumbering Kroxigor and into one of the skinks screening them. The diminutive thing gave a crackling scream before it froze solid, slowly toppling over and shattering like a glass statue. On the far flank the crew of the Reaper spotted their chance, swinging their vicious warmachine to bear on its tripod – a volley of heavy bolts split the air, ripping into the flank of one of the looming Kroxigor in sprays of blood. The massive beast gave a moaning roar of pain as it staggered, but stayed upright, the black feathers of the engine’s arrows protruding from its side and shoulder like the quills of some obscene porcupine. The second Reaper swivelled on its bearings, the crew pulling on a lever to rotate the stock and slot a heavy siege bolt into the mechanism. Levelling it at the distant figure of Qipatzli, the marksman gave an atavistic grin and let fly – the man-sized bolt screamed through the air, clipping the stegadon-skull helm of the Scar-veteran and smashing a horn before glancing off, pinwheeling into the air. The splintered bolt thudded against the ground as the Scar-veteran reeled in the saddle, recovering his balance and staring with an animal hatred at the engine on the hill.

Lizardman Turn 2

Maugri out of its field of vision, the Stegadon gave a screeching roar, propelling itself with thundering footsteps towards the Dark Riders who had chased after Kroq. Looking round, the cavalrymen gave strangled cries of fear, Klaus yelling for them to pull back – as the Stegadon crashed through the undergrowth of the jungle’s edge, the riders broke formation and ran, evading the great beast only to reform as it floundered in the tangling shrubs. They nervously checked their crossbows, calling out to Klaus as they saw another Saurus, this time atop a Cold One, emerge from the trees opposite them, facing them with a toothy, predatory grin. Something was moving in the trees again as well, the lizardman they had chased off recovering himself and turning to return to the battle.

Ignoring Maugri, the Kroxigor and their shielding Skinks surged forwards, slowing a little as the skinks tried to take pot-shots at the sorceress – their attempts were futile, as by the time they even drew back their arms they had to run forwards or be trampled by their larger brethren. The Dark Elf smirked, standing complacently still out of the reach of the little creatures’ thrown weapons as they were drawn away.

On the right, Qipatzl felt the shattered stump of his helmet’s bronze-clad horn – with a vindictive snarl, he sent the skinks scurrying forwards, his scouts darting around the riders before him as the riders’ screen made speed towards the second group of elves. Riding up on the very edge of the field, he grinned as he saw the Cold Ones gallop towards the five elven cavalrymen guarding the Reaper – with a shouted cry, the standard bearer lifted their grisly totem, the enchanted banner’s energies crackling like whips of lightning across the hides of their mounts as they were borne forwards on a shadowy tide of ethereal force. The elves tried to bolt, but too late – the blessed of Itzl smashed into them like a blade-studded whirlwind, reptilian jaws tearing the bellies from horses as the beasts’ riders tore the elves atop the steeds to shreds. Surging over the bloody remains as the last horseman fled, the Cold Ones crashed into the Reaper they had been shielding, the war-engine’s crew drawing barbed knives as they resolved to sell their lives dearly…


Dark Elf Turn 3

Sylak looked on in horror as the Reaper vanished under the reptiles’ charge, the crew skewered like pigs as the machine itself was smashed and crippled by the weight of the impact. Lumbering past, the Cold Ones were carried out of sight by their own impetus, Sylak turning to take advantage of the brief reprise and get his troops out of the way.

As the Cold Ones began to turn, the second group of riders charged forwards towards the skinks readying their javelins before them, taking the fastest route away from the monsters that had massacred their brethren. The skinks tried to resist, one managing to dodge under the pounding hooves of the horses and stabbing upwards to gut a dark steed with its javelin before it was crushed by the collapsing beast, but it was to no avail – silvered spears flashed red as the little creatures were broken, scattered and slaughtered by the speeding riders.

Maugri turned her horse to follow the lizardman line as it continued to advance, mustering her energies to unleash another Chillwind, this time against the Kroxigor – again, she ducked under the swelling power of the lizardmen’s magical defence, but the injured beast she directed the blast of chill at seemed not to notice, frost tinkling off its scales. Over to the Sorceress’ left, Klaus turned his steed and bolted back towards the riders, all too aware of the looming presence of the Stegadon. The lizards were getting dangerously close, and apart from the Cold One their ranks were looking dangerously unthinned…

Lizardman Turn 3

With a roar, the champion of the Cold Ones whirled his mount round to bear, the standard’s plumes fluttering out beside him as its bearer turned with the leader. Trotting back onto the field, they began to close on the troops occupying the hill – there was a thunder of claws behind them and Qipatzli joined the pair, the Scar-veteran’s obsinite spear glinting as he ordered the scouts forwards alongside his riders. Obediently, the swarm of frilled amphibians surged up to cover the riders’ flank, fingering their javelins as their bulging, yellow eyes fixed on the trapped form of Sylak…

In the centre, the skinks suddenly sprinted forwards, the Kroxigor pacing up some distance behind them as they hefted their stone axes, glaring at the two Ogre-pulled chariots on the hill. Easier to feed and steer than Cold Ones, the Ogres had as a downside a worrying tendency to charge things when they weren’t ordered to – Maugri looked on from behind as one of the chariots seemed to shake, the captive beast pulling it giving a snarling oath as it was restrained from barrelling into the skinks before it. The Stegadon was still tangled in the brush, but it had drawn level with the line of cautiously advancing Kroxigor, its great bow letting loose a bolt that ripped straight through a spear-warrior’s chest and pinned him to the shield of the one behind with a gurgling scream, blood running from the impaling wound like water from a hose. The elf slumped as his brain realised he was dead, his blood-spattered brother giving a low mewling noise as he shed his shield and backed away from the crimson corpse.


Dark Elf Turn 4

With a frustrated roar, the Ogre on the far left started forwards, lurching into the charge towards the skinks needling him from mere feet away. True to form, the skinks fled, melting away into the long grass as the charge failed, the great brute lumbering a few heavy steps forwards. Seeing six pairs of yellow eyes swing to bear on the chariot, the Dark Riders behind the Lizardman lines swerved and made for the Kroxigor, letting loose a burst of crossbow fire at the fleeing skinks miring the great beasts to try and clear a path for the riders. One fell, blood pulsing horribly from its belly as it gave a high-pitched, mewling scream and landed face-down in the long grass, disappearing from view.

The Reaper crew swung their machine to bear on the Cold Ones once more – a hissing hail of projectiles hammered into the line of scaled riders, gutting the musician and knocking the standard-bearer from the saddle as the bloody figure of Varl was skewered by two of the black-fletched arrows. Only Qipatzli and the champion remained, ignoring the grisly death of their comrades as they levelled their spears to charge against the flank of the exposed chariot – sensing that he could end up involved in the ensuing carnage if he did not act, Sylak charged in against the scouting skinks, their attempts to flee the charging rider foiled as he raced in amongst them, trampling and scattering the infuriating lizards in a chorus of piping screams.

Swinging around, Maugri raised a hand to send a blast of dark energy into the fleeing skinks – tricked twice already, the protective spells of the Lizardmen hit her like a brick, nearly knocking her from the saddle for a second time as blood ran from her nose. She looked around in dazed confusion as the skinks slowed in their flight, sensing an opportunity…

Lizardman Turn 4

In the centre, the first regiment of Kroxigor hefted their axes, charging towards the chariot that was hiding between the two blocks of spear-elves as the Stegadon thrashed its way out of the undergrowth, stampeding towards the spear-elves on the left. Looking from left to right as the beast came crashing out of the beast towards him, the standard bearer gave a strangled scream of fright and dropped his banner, trying to force his way back through the ranks to escape – panic spread like wildfire, the terrorised unit dropping their arms in the mad dash to flee the trumpeting monster. Beside them, the chariot fled too, unsupported on its crucial flank as the Kroxigor lumbered into the charge – even as it disappeared over the crest of the hill, Qipatzli and the remaining rider surged forwards, the chariot whose flank faced them swerving and fleeing from the deadly charge. As one, the encircling Lizardman attack faltered, the distance too great to run down their fleeing foes.

Out on the left, Kroq had regained his position at the edge of the woods – as he emerged, Lotl-Botl gave a bellowing roar and spurred his Cold One forwards across the clearing towards the riders opposite him. Sitting put, the elves reached for their crossbows as calmly as they could, levelling the weapons and letting loose a storm of black arrows. The Scar-veteran’s charge faltered and failed, blood leaking from where a barbed bolt had punctured the tough hide of his shoulder – Klaus unsheathed his draich with a ringing scrape of steel, the Druchii’s gimlet eyes focussing on this vulnerable foe, eager to grasp the opportunity to escape the centre…


Dark Elf Turn Five

Sylak turned and roared a curse as he saw the warriors quit the field, still convinced that the Stegadon was following them. Screaming orders to his remaining troops, he skirted around the conflict, ordering his spear-warriors to turn and face the Lizardman general as he watched his Dark Riders slam into the Kroxigor unit that had been unable to charge, the fleeing skinks obscuring its path – spears ripped across the body of monster that had been struck by the now-shattered Reaper, downing it in a spray of blood as the nimble horsemen leapt over the falling corpse – but the beasts held! A sob of rage contorted his face as the lumbering monsters began to turn to face, holding off the stabbing spear-thrusts, preventing the riders from sweeping into the flank of the second unit, the regiment of beasts that now threatened the flank of his spears…

With a cry, Klaus charged towards the mounted Saurus on the far right, Draich swinging up – the monster’s Cold One, spooked by the volleys of crossbow bolts and the Druchii’s ululating warcry, bolted. Klaus reined his horse in, sneering as the injured Scar-veteran was carried off the field – he suddenly realised that the other one was glaring at him out of the woods, scant feet away. He screamed for his riders to protect him, the cavalry reluctantly spurring their steeds forwards and interposing themselves between the noble and the Saurus.

Maugri, realising that the riders had abandoned her to attack the Kroxigor, sent her steed galloping towards the rallied skinks, drawing a vicious knife from under her robes as she sped toward them, trying to break through and reach Sylak on the other side. Watching her approach, the depleted regiment parted at the last moment, letting her in then swarming back around her as a pair of skinks leapt at her horse’s legs, slowing it enough to attack its rider. One vaulted onto the beast’s rump, scrabbling up with a copper knife in its hand and plunging it into the forearm of the sorceress as she tried to turn to strike it down. With a scream, Maugri shook it off, blood spilling from the agonising wound – she turned her horse and fled, the panicked steed leaping over the heads of her attackers and dashing away. Savage cries of glee piping from their inhuman throats, the skinks sprinted after her, javelins thudding into the ground in her trail. The horse screamed and ran faster as it heard the pained roar of the Stegadon – one of the Reaper’s siege bolts had stuck in its crest, serving no more apparent purpose than to anger it…

Lizardman Turn 5

With a shrieking roar, Kroq threw himself forwards, the golden greataxe whirling around and smashing the legs of two of the Dark Riders’ steeds in two, blood spraying into the air. Before the elves could even react, he was in amongst them, the axe whirling low to gut a horse, high to smash a rider into an unrecognisable pulp. The last horse bolted, carrying its panicked rider away as Kroq chased futilely after him, bellowing for the coward to come back. Klaus could only look on, petrified by the horrific carnage wrought by just one warrior...

His gaze was wrenched away as the free Kroxigor gave vent to a unanimous scream of rage, all three of them thundering into the spear-elves’ flank as Qipatzli and the champion of the Cold Ones smashed into the regiment’s front. Bodies smashed and crumpled, gored warriors flying into the air as others were smashed to reddish pulp by the massive stone axes of the monsters on their flank. Less than half survived to flee, the Cold Ones surging into their midst and hacking them down like babes as the Kroxigor held their ground, the hill’s slope heaped with reddened corpses. Seeing its only target annihilated, the Stegadon swung around, heading back towards Maugri and the riders as one of the two Kroxigor fighting them span around and smashed an elf’s head into scarlet splinters, the horse rearing in panic before the reverse blow tore it in half. The three survivors fought on, their glimmering spears stabbing and striking to no visible effect, darting away from the second beast as it tried to bring its axe to bear.


Dark Elf Turn 6

The Reaper swivelled one last time, the machine’s crew desperately working the mechanism as Kroq’s malevolent gaze turned towards them. A final hissing storm of bolts sped from the machine’s stock, rebounding from armour and thick hide until one struck home, making the Scar-veteran recoil in pain – but against all sense, he did not fall, wrenching the bolt out of his bad shoulder and dropping his two-handed axe, drawing a long, curved sickle blade from his belt in his good hand.

Maugri mustered her courage and turned, shrieking the words of the only battle-spell she knew as she tried to fight off the advancing skinks – again, the sign of Tepok flared across her vision, a force older than her race crushing the words from her mind. With a roar, Klaus wheeled his horse to face and charged into the two Kroxigor still defying the riders, his draich swinging up – the unengaged beast he was hurtling towards turned, catching the downstroke of the evilly barbed weapon and wrenching it aside on the wooden haft of its axe, a single, scissoring snap of its jaws catching Klaus by the throat and lifting him out of the saddle. The Kroxigor shook him like a terrier shakes a rat, the weight of the armoured noble pulling free and sailing up into the air as the red ruin of his throat remained caught in the monster’s teeth. A slamming axe-stroke destroyed the noble’s masterless steed – to the reptile’s right, its brother lifted its weapon and smashed the three Dark Riders from the saddle in a single, sweeping stroke, their spears splintering as they tried to ward off the terrible blow.

Lizardman Turn 6

Kroq launched himself into the last bolt thrower, slaughtering the crewmen in seconds as his one good arm whirled and cut, butchering the elves like children. With a snarl, he kicked a crumpled corpse aside and looked at the complex mechanism of the Reaper before smashing it with a clawed kick, shattering the ammunition box and throwing it over on its side with a crunch of splintering wood. Qipatzli and the riders came back over the crest of the hill, the Kroxigor turning as the Stegadon caught sight of Sylak and changed course, advancing on the lone Druchii.

The sorceress looked around nervously, her horse backing off as the skinks closed in on her. Suddenly, her mount had nowhere else to back off to – looking back, she saw it had backed against one of the fallen monoliths. Before she could turn to run, a gold-headed javelin split the air, smashing into the horse’s sternum and dropping it, screaming to the floor – she leapt from the saddle to avoid being crushed, only for a rain of javelins to descend on her, the skinks surging forwards with savage, piping whoops. Pinned to the earth by thrown spears through her arm and leg, her screams came to a gurgling, hideous halt as the diminutive lizardmen swarmed over her in a mob, copper knives flashing and stabbing in a hideous tableau of democratic murder. No-one noticed the last elf turn and flee, Sylak’s scaled cloak flapping as he disappeared into the trees…



Qipatzli rode sedately back across the field, his impassive gaze sweeping from side to side. Reaching down, he picked up the Totem of Huanchi and handed it to the last surviving Cold One rider, prising off the bloodied body of the Dark Elf with one foot before he did so. The display had made its point, and it wouldn’t do to get too much blood on the totem.

Kroq strode up, walking at a normal pace now – the enchantments of the ancient amulet had sensed the battle was over, and, exhausted, had decided to let the Saurus’ legs do the work. Axe slung across his back, sword back in his belt, the Scar-veteran wrenched the bolt out of his shoulder with a grimace of pain, looking up at Qipatzli. The question was unsaid, but the Saurus general understood it nonetheless. He pointed at the approaching skinks.

There was a rapid, high-pitched chatter as the group stopped for a moment, debating amongst themselves – then one stepped forwards, bearing a saddlebag of violet-dyed leather – it would have looked new if Maugri and her horse had not leaked quite a lot of blood over it. Taking the heavy bag, Qipatzli looked at the catch for a moment in confusion before ripping it open, the leather offering no more resistance to the Saurus warrior than a damp handkerchief. He reached inside and pulled out a stylised mask of gold, the grimacing Slann’s face it depicted inlaid with emeralds and glimmering lapis lazuli.

“Victory,” he hissed.


Lizardmen: 1667pts
Dark Elves: 427pts
MASSACRE

Post-game analysis:

Before I start, I would first like to say this: I’m not trying to get credit, or gloat. On the day we played this battle, we did in fact play three battles. Rasputin won the first two, they were massacres in his favour. Furthermore, as you may have guessed, things really went quite wrong for him with the dice in this game, starting at my turn four – as you’ve seen, he had that nice ‘castled’ formation on the hill, but one failed terror test and suddenly it had all gone to hell. The chariots, in case you were wondering, fled in order to buy him some time: one was going to flee regardless, but the one the Kroxigor had charged fled because they were no longer going to be forced to clip the Dark Elf warriors, due to the cowardly scum legging it. So that one terror test sort of screwed over his plan, which was a bit of a blow. Not to mention that after that he could only pass one of the four fear tests he was required to make.

Secondly, I would also like to say that my mapping system has not been perfect. It was based on my memory, and while it contains all relevant events in chronological order, certain areas have a bit of ‘phase fusion’ where I’ve got things in the wrong order due to the progression of the turns/phases. A specific one, which I couldn’t figure out, but knew happened, was the skirmish between Klaus, his riders, Kroq and Lotl Botl in the forest – I know it looks like Klaus charged the Krox when he couldn’t see them in turn 5, that’s because I somehow lost a turn in all that. Similarly, the Reapers shooting on the Cold Ones has a problem with continuity. So if you see a flaw, don’t pick up on it – it’s the map, not the game. This especially applies to LOS, as Paint doesn’t like rotating things through angles that aren’t multiples of 90, so I’ve only redrawn units at an angle when it’s absolutely necessary.

OK, disclaimers aside, on to the game. As I said, it gets a bit confused due to the luck element, but me and Ras both had a feeling I would have won. Not a massacre, but a win. I would levy a minor criticism of Rasputin’s plan in that when he failed the Terror test, his deployment/movement had left him no realistic way to salvage the situation. Ras often says how he doesn’t like uber-units due the fact that if you screw up with that one unit you’ve lost, but what I identified when I began encircling the hill was that he had grouped most of the high-points elements of his army on that hill, and that if that formation had some bad luck, or was attacked hard enough, he would have no way to come back, just as if he had grouped 500-odd points in a crucial uber-unit. And in the end, all my hitters cause fear/terror, and his general had ended up on the other side of the board, leaving him to test on Ld8. Your chances of failing a leadership 8 check are in the region of 30% (27.8% to be precise), so when we’re talking about crucial checks there was an element of high risk.

My plan was relatively simple: it involved cutting off all the support for that central swarm. I would use the woods on my left to box in his noble/DR flank team there, and then use my skinks, COR and a character to shatter the DR/DR/Reaper flank team as quickly as possible. I reasoned that this would give me a two-angled attack on the hill, from which I could drive along the line, trapping the Dark Elves with nowhere to go but the board edge. This worked quite well, although it could have been a very close-run thing if that terror check had been passed – the Stegadon actually failed its charge due to difficult terrain, so the Krox would have been in there on their own. That being said, if the bloody skinks had just fled a decent distance in the first place from the chariot’s charge, instead of landing up bang in front of the second unit of Krox, then things still would have been pretty rosy from my perspective :)

The one thing in the game that struck me as bizarre (aside from the dice) was Ras charging his sorceress into my rallied skinks. I just thought “why?” – yes, you could probably expect her to kill one, which unfortunately she failed to manage, but overall her chances of scoring an unsaved wound (just calculated) with both her attack and her horse’s attack are 0.592 recurring. Killing two skinks would be rather lucky, so the best she could hope for would really be a draw (outnumbering), especially since the skinks had a similar chance of wounding her back even if one of them died (0.41666666…), which they managed to pull off (well, actually, since none of them died, they had a 0.625 chance, which was a bit easier). Even if she drew, it seemed inevitable to me that the skinks would kill her eventually, and I didn’t notice any support coming. With M9, she could have evaded them quite easily, as she definitely charged from over 3” away… perhaps Rasputin can enlighten us on this one.

Hope you enjoyed the batrep,
LCP

Excellent writing, as always.
Just two things: first, there were some instances in the batrep that I found confusing -- namely, the number of diferent units and where they were. I was confused as to how many units of Dark Riders and Skinks there were, and which was which (you didn't really differentiate between them in your descriptions -- you just stated who they were fighting). Of course, this problem would probably have been rectified if I had looked at the maps (which I neglected to do). Still, actual army lists would have helped immensely.
And second: fluff-wise, didn't Qipatzli die during the Storm of Chaos?

Ah, thou shouldst look at the maps, sirrah. I wrote it on Word, with the intention of interspersing the turns with the maps, but since the site won't let me I had to link to them, which I'll admit could be a tad confusifying. But that should show you where and when with the units, since the Key includes the lists (all equipment and upgrades cited). Still, you can see my list in the Lizardman section and Ras' in the DE section if you wish - we used our conflict armies.

As for Qipatzli: 's not the same Qipatzli :). I modified my old Qipatzli model to get this Scar-vet, and I thought that since the new Rezephua legions would be being built up from spawnings directly after the Storm, the most powerful of the Saurii born would be named after the heroes who had fallen in the battle for the city... hence, Qipatzli returns. What goeth around, cometh around, as the Igors say :D

Firstly this was not the game we agreed to bat rep, *grumble*. I doth Belive we agreed to go for the very first one. *Grumble*. Still you played the best of your three games in this one, so I suppose it was right to report this one. *Grumble*

The reason for the Sorceress charge was I was a utter fool and didn't expect the Skinks to rally. As such I Positioned her nice and close so I could run them down with ease next turn. When they did rally I was buggered. I couldn't march and I couldn't hide. This meant that I was either going to get charged or shot ot death. As such I realised I had to charge and hope to draw/hold untill I could pull up two kills which would give me the win, and with no Gneral around they should break. Basically I cocked up and was trying to make the most of the situation.

As I thought about the game when I had cooled down (Ras got most angry when the luck went bad, and stayed bad), I realised I depoyed badly. I should of stuck to the deployment plan from the other games, weighting all the riders on one flank. Additionally I could of set up better around the Hill. If one Unit stood on the Hill, flanked by a chariot on its right, a RBT on it right followed by a chariot and a warrior unit on the ground, with a noble kicking around I would of had a stronger and more flexible deployment. What is even more annoying is that I could have redeployed. My other thought, which I got to when I came home was that I could have been more cunning. When the RBTs went down it was obvious from my prevoious deployment that I would castle the infantry around the hill and the DRs around the other gun. If I had done it the other way 1-2 of the Kroxie units + the Steg would have been facing off against the riders, which would have been beneficial to say the least. It would have neutralised the danger of such elements as I would play silly buggers with the afore mentioned units untill I had either shot them up of Chili made a mistake and I could get flanks/rears on the said units.

Additionally let us not forget that I forgot to use my shades, which would have allowed me to march block the said units earlier in the game, slowing that flank down. Basically I ballsed up the deployment, and with the Dark Elf army being so unforgiving I would never have pulled it back unless I redeployed in T1. Having said that with luck like that in T4+ it doesn't matter what I could have done, I was going to get creamed. What really irked me was two things. If these two things had happened then it would have been fine, and I should of done them. The first was when my Riders flanked the Kroxie unit I should have done at least one wound. The Kroxies was on one wound, which would of meant no attacks back, I win by three, he breaks (General not in range). Then I over run. All I needed was three inches and I would of hit the flank of the other kroxie unit. I would get mulched, but he couldn't of flanked by warriors who would then be able to turn to face them, on the hill, next turn, which would give me the win. The other thing was if my DEW had either not failed their terror test, but more importantly if they had rallied (Double 6 is what I got). I did make a few silly little tactical mistakes on the hill, but nothing major. If both those two things had happened (Rallying and Causing One wound) then it would not have been a massacre. If my other warrior unit had passed their fear check and charged his Gnerals unit then it likely I could have managed to get a draw. If everything was passed (including Killing the JSOD) then I could of got the drawn, I am alsmost sure of that. Still, it wasn't to be...
Lord: I had three Rider units, Chili had three Skink units, one of which was a scouting unit.

Aye, we did say the first one, but by the time we played three the only one I could hope to remember in detail was the last one.

I know you got turn 1 and all, but you did march block said units from turn 2... the sorceress, remember?

To be fair, it was quite a bit more than that. I can tell simply because a Kroxigor unit is about five inches long, and there was also quite a bit of diagonal distance in there too. The DR move was, to me, an attempt to pull it back from the ensuing massacre, but I didn't feel that you could pull a draw or a win back at that point: even if you'd held up the Kroxigor long enough for your Warriors to turn to face, I would simply have flanked you with Qipatzli and the COR champ. Those guys score 4 kills on average, so they'd lose by 2 and hold, leaving me time to hammer the DR and then charge you in the front in my turn 6. Essentially, any unit fighting a COR champ, a Scar-vet and three Kroxigor is going to break, regardless of the alignment.

That aside, the majority of your assessment is spot on. You didn't deserve to be massacred...

That is, of course, ASSUMING they held: the dice can become quite fickle when it comes to Leadership tests (even when there is cold-bloodedness involved).

Aye. Then again, if they'd legged it they'd have time to rally - and then the Spear-elves would charge the Kroxigor with a rank gone.