Saturday 17 November 2012

The Eye Opens

And hello again, gentle readers.  It has been some time since there was a battle that was laudable enough to grace these pages.  Some of you may have thought we had gone the way of so many of our rivals.  Who can forget the passing of the Cheddar and Bohemian Evening Post?  This humble reporter had no idea that senior management could burn with such beautiful colours.  It was such a beautiful night, with the smell of burning blog posts carried on the wind along with the frenzied chanting of the mob, and it stirred your reporter to action.  The precise action was to hightail it from the vicinity, whilst the mob were still looking for unburnt offerings.

And so, your host, was forced to make a detour which encompassed several sectors of the galaxy, and an unplanned sojourn in the hinterlands.  In that time, much was quaffed and consumed.  And much was observed.  But more of those later...

To the present, and a skirmish between those fearsome Space Wolves and the forces of heresy.  Emperor bless my boots, but the Wych-Csorda of Haruspex Upuaut were a fearsome bunch.  A former Thousand Sons marine, as he revealed in an exclusive interview (soon to come to this auspicious organ - stay tuned, gentle readers), he commands the loyalty of a cabal of Marines and humans who have sold their souls for the chance of immortality.  With a Helbrute and an ancient Predator in tow, he sought to outwit the Sons of Russ in the hope of securing a number of xenos technologies.

The Wych-Csorda deploys into the edge of the ruined manufactorium district.

The Havocs adopted a strong position and prepared to support the attack.

A job-lot of Thousand Sons Marines.  Alas, they came without warranty and that may explain their inability of their armour to withstand even the gentlest of impacts.

A hive gang.  Perfect fodder for the agents of heresy.

The Predator was feeling peckish.

The helbrute.  Unhealthily fixated on shooting things.

The Space Wolves were not in a party mood.  

The Lone Wolf brought along his loyal friends.  He knew the Thousand Sons were not the best in combat.

The Sky Claws ready for action.

Your reporter was advised to keep a distance and to avoid too many secret-revealing picts...

Such as deployment numbers and dispositions.  In your face, censorship!

The Thousand Sons pepper the Lone Wolf with a fearsome fusillade.

His wolves slain, the Lone Wolf suffers an inconvenient flesh wound.

The Predator was not concerned about the force advancing towards it.  It's weapons were more than sufficient to deal with the threat.

An assault cannon?  What possible damage could that do to a tank?

The Space Wolves advance.

The only casualty from the Space Wolves opening volley.  A plasma gun that got incredibly hot, melting it and the marine holding it.

An overheating plasma cannon on the Helbrute.  Not a day for arcane technology it seemed.  And it made him angry...

It took everything, but the Lone Wolf eventually succumbed to the heretics shooting.

The dreadnought caused glancing hits on the Predator, but nothing to worry about.  Right?

The Sky Claws saw their chance for glory and charged.

One of the few plasma guns that actually worked without injuring the owner.

Your reporter's pic-grabber still doesn't like to be near psykers.  In this case, the Rune Priest unleashes one of his Fenrisian witch powers.

Clearly a rusty batch of Thousand Sons.  Decimated by bolter, plasma and sorcery, only a handul remained.

Sensing the turning tide of battle, the Haruspex led his devoted followers into combat.  An earlier mishap with the warp left him with a slight limp.

An assault cannon did this?  How?  HOW?

The flank secured, the Space Wolves moved to encircle the heretics.

The rune priest attempts to smite the heretics.  He succeeded.  Mostly.  The humans were almost wiped out to a man.  Er mutant.  Er, heretic.

A cunning move left the Haruspex with a line of marines just aching to be Doombolted...  And they were.

The surviving Thousand Sons Marine attempts to control an objective.

Late to the battle, the spawn was very, very angry.

Driven even crazier by the loss of his beloved, plasma cannon, the Helbrute had stood for the entire battle squirting gouts of burning promethium at nothing in particular.  Once again the Dreadnought gunned down a vehicle with the assault cannon.


The surviving Grey Hunter tries to decide between charging and holding an objective.

Dismissed with contemptuous ease by the Dreadnought, the spawn would not be adding any more skulls to Khorne's throne.

Incredibly, the Long Fangs were instrumental in victory and provided an Emperor-blessed supporting fire.  Their opposite numbers amongs the heretics, the Havocs, provided very little in support for their allies.

The Haruspex leads his remaining followers in an attempt to seize an objective.  

Gunned down like a dog.

And so the battle ended in a draw.  The Space Wolves were so close to victory but were denied at the last.  The Haruspex's body was spirited away but the empty shells of the Thousand Sons were bathed in cleansing promethium.  The xenos technology followed suit.  The 

Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads?

Grey Knights?  I'm sure that this reporter's scribbled musings about their disagreement with the Space Wolves are somewhere to hand.  I should post them toot sweet before the Inquisition get involved.

But first, spikes!  And wolves!