Campaign Battle Reports

"We can build 'im stronga, bigga, fasta!"
"If youz was gunna do all dat, why'd you take all da shiny bitz and leave this rot."
"Uh, er, coz dese bitz is already red an crusty like 'is insides so dey will work betta."

Big Mek Gutwrench jumped into consciousness, he couldn't tell if it was the large clanking thud that had startled him, or whether the weedy arguing voices of his agonized dreams finally annoyed him into waking. Clutching his still spinning head, he rose shakily to his feet and took in his surroundings. The tremors in his vision slowly dissipated, and he immediately recognized his makeshift workshop. A strange mechanical noise caught his attention amongst the din created by the crackling, buzzing and clanking mechanations of the shop, because it was coming from his chest. Examining himself the mek's first thought was not that alarm at the fact a full two thirds of his torso had literally melted away, but rather intense anger at the poor quality of the repairs. Muttering a steady stream of curses aimed at his grot "helpers" he gathered a pack of tools and metal and prepared to make a journey to the local mad doc, figuring not much more could be taken out of him anyways.

Gutwrench squinted in the bright sun, apparently the camp had moved forward while he was on the table, possibly accounting for some of the few organs he felt that he should still have. A large ruined building loomed over the camp; just yesterday the humans had the entire thing entrenched, now bright ork graffiti stood in contrast with the mutilated gaurd corpses strung up for target practice. Gutwrench spotted a shadowy figure picking through the dead, collecting small bits of metal. The Mek shook his head, he'd have to have been a fool to even think the commando warboss Snikrot was truly dead; though from the looks of him a few bolter rounds and some well placed combat knives had helped his faking death act considerably. A large bellow tore through the camp, followed by a larger cheer, with the old warboss dead the tribes' nobs would be fighting it out for the newly opened position. At least one good thing came from that day, Gutwrench thought contemptuously. One sound however, did not fit in with the rest of rowdy camp, a soft humming cause the mek the whirl around in surprise. Standing sentinel, however ineffectually, was a killa kan, snoring away and cradling the tattered remains of the holy power armor worn by the warrior women from the last battle. The empty power armor of a particular warrior woman. Gutwrench spat, and stomped off in search of some gutz, and in the mood to make someone have a sudden excess of them, his last moments of memory roiling in his mind.

The cursed warrior woman casually dispatched two of the kan he had spent days laboring on. A golden haze surrounded her, turning aside the saws and blunting the blades of the of the machines that towered over her. A pair of explosion echoed her final blows, the pair of machines reduced to over sized grenades. Flames and shrapnel engulfed her completely and the Mek was forced the grin, despite, or rather because of the sight of his creations exploding so magnificently, until she burst forth from the flames, on wings of fire, completely unscathed. The golden light burned deep in her eyes as she sank her gruesome weapon in the top of the last kan, pulverizing the pilot. As she stood, the smoking remains of three metal behemoths at her feet, no sense of accomplishment or victory touched her face, only a thin grim line of determination. Directly behind her another explosion rocked the battlefield as a chimera transport exploded violently, but it was all but drowned out by the challenging roar of the hulking ork warboss responsible. The two figures stood on opposite sides of the burning crater, the massive ork seethed with barely contained violence, and gestured for the woman to face him. Calmly, without even acknowledging the monster at her back, the cannoness raised a hand to her throat, and simply turned away as the imperial guns tore into lone ork.

Even as the ork warboss was scythed down by the withering imperial fire, she jumped into the sky, her fiery wings catching her as she fell upon the rest of the ork horde. Throwing herself into the bulk of the ork armor she again began her cool, calculated harvest, crushing another squad of killa kans beneath her boots, until only one remained. The lone can swung it's limp, broken claw in sheer panic, and she set her sites on a new prey, only needing to casually finish off the damaged kan before moving on. Gutwrench all but tore the emergency break out of the cockpit of his battlewagon, and was momentarily pleased with himself for it having passed its first use successfully. His gloating immediately replaced with a steady stream of curses so vile that the indignant Nobz stopped their grunts of outrage and simply cleared his path to the exit. Stomping down into muddy slew of tread churned earth he began to pick through his belongings for tools as he made his way towards the damaged kan. A dozen paces away, he froze, looking towards the scene of the battle, and saw her. The golden light in her eyes lending her gaze the weight of ten millennia worth of fanatical zealotry. Gutwrench's knee's buckled, his arms shook, and his entire body trembled and he lowered his own blood red stare to meet the ground. His satchel fell from his hands, precious tools he'd spent his life collecting spilled out into the slop of the battlefield, and he reached instead for his battle-wrench leaning on it for support. With his eyes locked on the muddy earth by his feet, his entire body shuddered, and slowly, but inevitably, a hideous toothy grin split his face. Taking his wrench in a tow handed grip, Gutwrench roared, and bounded forward, closing the gap between him and his machine, and with all his might swung the wrench into the side of the kan. Green sparks exploded and the impact site, and spread like webs of crackling green energy across the machines surface. Gutwrench peered around the side of machine, his glowing green eyes holding those of the cannoness, just as the last glimpse of gold faded from her gaze.

The symphony of destruction rang out around Gutwrench, as he stood watching the kan shear through the woman with it's powered claw. Explosions resounded in the distance and vengeful Imperial guns barked in retort. The tell-tale whine of charging energy weapons could be heard...from far to close. Gutwrench's gaze was drawn to a pile of vegetation where a team of Imperial veterans clutched glowing hot melta weapons. Gutwrench thought, `Glowing hot? But that means that they already fired. What did they shoot at?` the kan was still standing, and no one else was around. He felt something burning around his feet, only to discover it was the melted section of his torso leaking down his boots. "Dats gonna 'urt tommara." he wheezed, and so fell.

It was my description of the in game effect of Mek tools repairing the damaged dreadnought cc weapon on the kan, just as the cannoness ran out of faith for her invulnerable save.

Good read indeed!

This wasn't a campaign game, but I figured it needed to be done, plus having the word document open made me feel like I might start my essay.

Gutwrench blinked his blood red eyes several times, taking in his surroundings. He was sitting in his traditional seat on the passenger side of his battlewagon da Avalanche. There was no noise, save the roar of the oversized engines, and the hum of energy as his personal forcefield interfaced with his custom made seat, and stomping of restless Nobz in the cargo crew compartment. It was, he thought, entirely to quiet, and the sickly pale green light of the dawning sun did the mood no favors.

“ Uh, boss? Wot’s goin...” from the rear of the vehicle on the Nobz voiced a question on everyones mind, but he never finished the sentence. The battlewagon rocked violently, the metal behemoth creaking and hissing as it lurched over to the side. Gutwrench had just enough time to see the corrosive goo leaking from a massive impact hole before the slime reached the engines and caused a minor meltdown. The whole world seemed to screech like tortured metal, and as his vision filled entirely with fire and shrapnel Gutwrench was inclined to believe that was indeed the case. Throwing himself to the out a door he dove to the earth and plugged his ears. Today was going to be hell.

The fires died down quickly around the crater left by the vehicles carcass, burning through turbo charged fossil fuel rapidly. Gutwrench leapt to his feet, and was relieved to see most of the Nobz squabbling amonst themselves. A good thing, he thought, that the last one in the wagon was smart enough to boot the others out of the door instead of just diving out himself. Taking stock of the battlefield, Gutwrench saw that the rest of his horde had materialised at the far end of the battlefield and even now were getting stuck into the fighting. Gutwrench tracked the fire of eager loota’s across the field to finally get a good look at his foe.

He watched as the heavy shells tore into a towering group of bronze flesh daemons, and smiled as most of their number withered under torrent of metal. He tried to turn, and look at the creature that had damaged his precious vehicle, but found his gaze drawn in the opposite direction. Even across the field of battle he could see her clearly, the thick smoke filling the air seemed to flow around her, not wishing to interrupt her perfection. The daemons flesh flowed like an ever changing sea, the deepest violets promising to grant the most extreme of passions, to the lightest of hues begging to nurture all of a person’s most delicate desires. Her arms shimmered around her, as if not really there, one moment a pair of tender arms reached out for a loving embrace, yet in the same moment they were instead a vicious claw and wicked sword lusting for eternal punishment. The beauty of the creature could be found bare for all to see, yet left everything and anything to the imagination. So entranced was Gutwrench by this being, that he took a single step forward, prepared to spend all eternity in the deep wells of the abyss the daemons gaze promised.

A blur of noise, speed and violence broke the trance that had held him, and a trukk boy yelled out to him with a lunatic grim staple to his face
“Boss! Da fights gone and come found us!” A team of shoota boys leapt out of the trukk and open fired on the remaining bronze giants, cheering when a hit resulted in a splash of molten blood to arc into the sky. Gutwrench and his Nobz piled into the trukk, determined to find the biggest fight to get stuck into. From his vantage point in the trukk, Gutwrench surveyed the whole of the battlefield for the first time. The west flank of the ork horde was alight with a rainbow flames, as a trio of burning wraiths danced mockingly around a rampaging deff dread. The towering machine attempted to match their ethereal procession, but failed to find any purchase in their burning flesh. To his immediate left he glared at the biomechanical monstrosity responsible for destroying his precious wagon. The mek stared with a mix of hate and awe at the demonic machine as a paced in the distance. Even from his distant viewpoint, Gutwrench could hear that his stands bit of massive pistons propelling six spidery legs. The jet black metal pulsed like a ragged heart beat with a sickly green energy that emanated from the multitude of blasphemous runes scarring its legs and pallid flash. The muscles of the daemonic machine writhed under its skin, and from its forearms long, large calibre barrels occasionally burst through the skin. The creature snapped its massive crab like claws together in a movement that looked almost like impatience and raced forward towards a group of trukk boyz, but fell awry of the faulty, or perhaps functioning ork machinations. The spidery monster leapt into the wreckage of the ork trukk it had destroyed moments ago, its massive armoured rear leg piercing a reserve fuel tank that had survived due to some strangely place armour reinforcement. The resulting explosion caused the daemon machine to face plant directly in front of the two remaining orks where a shocked Nob was all too willing to relieve it of its head.

In the distance Snikrot and his kommando’s could be seen fighting a losing battle against a grotesque troupe of rotting daemons who seemed to be immune to his deadly blades. The squeal of rarely used brake clawed at the mek’s ears as the speeding trukk fishtailed to a stop. Before he could even bellow out his question, he saw the answer; a horde of lithe, tempting she-daemons had stepped into existence scant meters away. With a bloodthirsty roar Gutwrench and his Nobz vaulted over the side of the trukk into the thick of the daemons. Cackling like a madman Gutwrench slammed his battlewrench firmly into the earth, opened his metal clad palm towards the enemy, and hit the red button. In an instant the force field generator on his back reversed polarity an a storm of electricity ripped into daemonic ranks. The answering screams sang out of horde like a chorus of pain and ecstasy, but he would not let it unnerve him. The orks charged with a hail of wild slugga fire and a mighty roar, and the agile daemonettes sprang forward in response. The ensuing melee was vicious and fast; even as several Nobz were shredded by wicked claws before that could even swing the other struck with devastating force that shattered the fragile daemons. In a matter of moments the orks had encircled the remaining pair of daemons, a wicked lighting each face. The victory was short lived however, as great shadows materialized over the gloating orks.


In an instant, battle was joined, and Gutwrench, knew he was doomed. The last of the brazen giants charged like a bull into the remaining orks, the massive tribute to its dark master that it carried in on hand seemed not to hinder it at all as it wove a massive fiery blade through the Nobz. Following the lesser creature, a being of pure terror joined the fight. The daemon prince had the appearance of a man, and moved with, a deceptively fast, loping gait. The monster was dressed in a garb of blood slick flesh and pulsing organs, and the pyramid on its head was so harshly angled and a black so deep it seemed as if the creatures’ own damned soul had be used to fashion it. A massive cleaver lashed out from behind it with unstoppable force, devastating the remaining orks, and the true horror had not yet arrived.

A cloudy green crack appeared in thin air, and spread, larger and more jagged until it stood as tall as a building. Suddenly, bulbous, decayed fingers grabbed the edge of the tear, and began to pull it apart. The battle seemed to disappear as the crack spread further with a shattering sound that could not be heard, yet tore at ones’ mind like glass in a wound. Eternity stretched on for a handful of seconds as the crack spread across the air like a noxious web. It shattered. Through the gap in reality a behemoth stumbled across universes with a deep, poisonous laugh. The last remaining orks dropped to their knees, chocking on a cloud of flies and disease, and the towering monstrosity grinned. Gutwrench, even in his terror dazed state, took time to admire the mechanical wonders that decorated this new horror. The creature carried on its back, what could only be described as a factory, which made a disgusting cacophony belches gurgles and hisses, and the ecstatic giggling of lesser being could be heard as they toiled away inside. Attached to this factory, a pipeline of green ooze flowed down the monsters arm, ending in a vicious syringe and Doc would kill to have. The daemon was still grinning, still laughing as it reached down from its ponderous height to grab the body of a Nob, which it cradled like a newborn babe. The daemons’ smile still creased its ugly face as it began to coo softly as it jammed the needle into the corpse, which it began to rock slowly back and forth. Apparently finished he held the now bloated corpse in both hands, and gently tossed it into back into the group of orks. Impacting the ground where a last of the Nobz still stood the corpse exploded with a wet splat, and coating the entire area with thick green ooze. The vile stuff splashed off of Gutwrench’s force field, but the last Nobz were not so lucky; even as agonizing acids bubble their flesh the most potent illnesses chewed away their organs. Gutwrench turned to flee, he had to run anywhere, but he knew nowhere was far enough. He was almost relieved when the remaining daemonette caught him, and with a tender caress, sent a pillar of daemon warped bone straight through his chest.


Gutwrench bolted upward, his eyes snapping open. He was back in his shop, the hum of machines and clank of gears doing little to reassure his frayed psyche. Carefully, he stepped out of his shop, into the eerily silent camp. The other orks either lay sleeping where they had dropped or had begun to, uncharacteristically, ponder the recent events. Gutwrench had no doubt that every single ork in the camp had the same dream. Gutwrench cursed, then spat, then spit out a curse, and then his stomach made itself noticed. Still grumbling Gutwrench stomped off to look for some hapless snotling or squig still fast asleep, still muttering about the strangeness of this planet under his breath. Of course, the sickly pale green light of the dawning sun did the mood no favours.




Side note: I took some creative liberties with the telling of the battle as compared to how it played out on the table, but the long and short of it is Paz tabled me something good.

More! I demand more awesome!

Sorry man, I had to stop halfway when I realized that it had become a longer paper than my essay, I'll definitely finish it later today.

Ugh, double post. I edited the last part installment of the story to include the conclusion.

*tips hat* Great story dude, I really enjoyed it, and was very evocative of the battle. I liked the face-planting soul grinder... pretty much exactly what happened!

Have you ever considered writing sci-fie novels?

You really do have quite a talent for animating every moment of a 40k game; I only hope that your essay is doing as good.

you are really really awsome and i also think you should write scifi

Thanks for the positive feedback guys, I really appreciate it.

Isn't making it a dream cheating?

I kid, I kid. Very good work here man. This kind of stuff breathes life into the background of the games. You have a talent for it.

Haha, I kind of felt the need to make my crushing defeat not a reality, but mostly because the game wasn't a part of the campaign I'm making the story around.