Your reporter has seen many strange things in his long years in the business. And not all of them of the result of a blood sausage that Papa Nurgle himself would take two sniffs at to check it was OK. No, these reporter's jaded, old eyes have seen many marvelous sights in his wanderings across the galaxy.
The flickering green balefire of the undead as they march in their ragged ranks through the Drakwald forest. The Jokaero weaponsmiths who are more like furry mannequins than filthy xenos. Eldar. The list goes on. But never did your reporter expect to see what transpired today.
Orks working to a plan that, with the help of Mork (or maybe Gork), led to an incredible result. But this reporter is getting ahead of himself. For when the day started, he was many, many miles away, having had an unexpected week off. When the frigate Shield of Truth made planetfall above the latest battlefield, it was to find the vagaries of the Immaterium had meant your reporter had arrived before he had set off.
This paradox threatened to upset your reporter's delicate mental faculties, but the presence of a well-stocked hostelry provided a most beneficial distraction. And it was from one grimy window that your reporter espied a small, black craft as it plummeted to the ground. Sensing a possible story afoot, your reporter took only what was required for a day in the country. And if you have glanced at his previous missive on what a roving reporter requires, you'll be fully aware of what that is.
Pausing only briefly to cook some sausages and onions, and then some small cakes, your reporter eventually reached the area where a keen sense of intrigue quickly identified where the strange craft had landed. And yes, after some scouting about, this reporter discovered more spy beacons. Now, given that where these beacons are placed, a battle inevitably follows, your reporter decided to return to the hostelry, where the innkeeper had promised a nice, plump bird for the evening.
Only four days later, and with this reporter's appetites almost sated, the unmistakable sound of Orks could be heard in the far distance. Grabbing his pict-grabber, lunch, two breakfasts and several medicinal snifters, your reporter made his way to the scene of the battle.
 |
| The Space Wolves took to the field first and quickly arranged themselves for the conflict. Confidence was supreme, but these are the Emperor's Wolves, and anything less would be unthinkable. |
 |
| The Deffdread pilot cunningly hid his great red, smoke-belching, stomping machine behind a low stone wall. This survivor of many conflicts had just been repaired following the last encounter with the Space Wolves, when it survived mostly in one piece. |
 |
| The grotz, under the watchful, single eye of Old Bazdak. His grot prod hardly ever needs to be used nowadays. We shall come back to these little fellers later... |
 |
| Led by their Wolfguard, the Grey Hunters prepare to begin the battle. Fully three squads of marines were fielded by the Space Wolves. |
 |
| Lone Wolf Ralph, with his lupine companions. Did you know there used to be no wolves on Fenris? Though there seem to be plenty knocking about nowadays. |
 |
| Meanwhile, the Orks took up their positions. Here the Tankbustas employ probably the most cunning of Ork stealth tactics - hiding behind a wall. |
 |
| The battle started, the Deffdread pilot looked down to select a gear, and the machine was struck by the Living Lightning of the Wolves' Rune Priest. With a thunderous explosion, the machine was completely destroyed. |
 |
| A slightly shocked Rune Priest, just after unleashing his Living Lightning. One shot, one kill. Could this be a good day to fight? The after effect of the psychic power caused this reporter's hands to shake somewhat. |
 |
| Shrugging off everything the Orks fired at it, the Rhino brought its deadly cargo closer to the Ork lines. |
 |
| With the Deffdread dealt with at the very first time of asking, the left flank of the Wolves moved forward to control the Inquisition spy beacons. |
 |
| The Tankbustas spring their surprise on the Dreadnought. And miss. |
 |
| Advancing behind the Rhino, the Grey Hunters are unable to target the Orks. |
 |
| Set loose by the Tankbustas, two of the bomb squigs race towards the Dreadnought. But out of the explosion of dust and debris and bits of squig, the Dreadnought emerges unscathed. |
 |
| However, the third bomb squig hares off towards the battlewagon. A very large explosion is heard. |
 |
| Wrecked! The Ork warlord's pride and joy is blown into tiny pieces. The squig was, incredibly, only singed. It was knocked unconscious though. |
 |
| The Tankbustas have a vigorous discussion on who was to blame for the training of the third squig. So intent on this argument, they forget about the enemy. |
 |
| And with the enemy being a dreadnought with a still working heavy flamer, the Tankbustas were very soon invited to dance the burny dance. |
 |
| Lone Wolf Ralph gets stuck into the Ork Warboss and his nobz. The terminator armour and storm shield proved incredibly difficult to land even a glancing blow on. |
 |
| Your reporter is advised by the Space Wolves to stand aside and watch them cut the threads of the Emperor's foes. |
 |
| The Grey Hunters engage the Lootas with bolter and plasma fire. |
 |
| The Lootas prove incredibly susceptible to the aforementioned bolter and plasma fire. |
 |
| Disembarking from the Rhino, the third squad of marines have very little left to do. |
 |
| Immobilised and disarmed. Every Evil Sunz nightmare. Especially the immobilised part. |
 |
| Sven the Slightly Unbalanced proved more than a match for the Tankbustas, despite being hit several times. The ancient sarcophagus was impervious to the rokkit on a pole tactic so successfully employed last time. |
 |
| And then the unthinkable happened! Lone Wolf Ralph dies at the hands of the Ork Warboss. Elsewhere, another marine is shot and killed. Two marines dead, as Orks lie bleeding and broken across the battlefield. |
 |
| The Warbodd considers his options, then sees the dreadnought and all sensible thoughts pack their bags and leave his tiny brain. Waaaaaaaaagh!!! |
 |
| The Wolves suddenly realise that despite securing the flank, the battle is in danger of being lost. None of the spy beacons are easily recoverable. And if atmospheric conditions worsen, the battle may end early. |
 |
| The gretchin stream out to secure a spy beacon. Well, one is sent out on a sacrificial basis on the off-chance the battle will end early. |
 |
| The Space Wolves are left disconsolate. Despite killing all before them, the Orks secure a tactical victory by controlling 2 spy beacons to the Wolves' 0. What was an absolute walk-over became a lesson in over-confidence. |
 |
| Whilst looking for some mementos of the battle, the bomb squig chose an unfortunate moment to recover consciousness... |
And so the battle ended early, with atmospheric conditions forcing the two sides apart. Despite 50% losses, the Orks won the day with a 2-0 scoreline in controlled spy beacons. Somehow. Though, if truth be told, and this reporter believes in always telling the truth, the Space Wolves threw away victory. Their performance in battle could not be faulted. But their tactical decisions cost them dear. Even the loss of two marines and two wolves, incredibly light casualties in the circumstances, left them tasting the bitterness of defeat.
This reporter was amazed, gentle readers, and will not forget what happened in a hurry.
Stay healthy, loyal readers, and keep tuned to this channel. This reporter shall return.
