BATTLE REPORT

HIGH ELVES VS DARK ELVES

DARK CHARM

The High Elves have sailed across the Great Ocean to the bleak and rugged land of Naggaroth. This is the realm of the elves' twisted cousins, the Dark Elves, and here one of the relics can be found. It is a risky venture, for if Menethal is unable to beat the Druchii host and win the artefact; chances are it will be lost forever…

SCENARIO STATISTICS

Points:

2000

Participants:

High Elves

(Stuart Nichols)

Dark Elves

(Mark Wilson)

Scenario:

Pitched Battle

Location:

Off the east coast of Naggaroth

Timeline: 2522 (Empire Calendar)

THE ARMIES

High Elves:

Prince Menethal's Expeditionary Force

General:

Prince Menethal

Dark Elves:

Unnamed Dark Elf army

General:

Unnamed Dark Elf general

THE STORY SO FAR…

The High Elves of Prince Menethal's expeditioners have recovered one of the ancient relics belonging to the line of Dramalliel of Caledor. It is a great victory, and after returning to Ulthuan for a brief celebration, the army soon sets out north, to Naggaroth. Their next lead lies with a certain Dark Elf warband, who have recently been ostentatiously flaunting a talisman that once belonged to the ancestors of Dramalliel. By using its somewhat limited powers they have compromised their ability to keep it a secret. If Menethal can engage and beat the Dark Elf host, and wrench the talisman from their vile clutches, it will be appreciated massively by Dramalliel, and a huge victory in the ongoing war against the Druchii. But if the attack fails and the talisman is lost to the Dark Elves, there may never be another chance to reclaim it. Who knows what vile sorcery the Druchii will use upon it then, to twist and warp it for their own, evil schemes? What was once a minor relic could soon be an artefact to be used in the eternal Druchii war against the civilised races…

TURNS 1-6

The hated enemies had gathered on the blasted plains. A light breeze whipped up from the north, stirring the robes of Druchii and High kin alike. The skies overhead were a dull grey, storm clouds gathering on the horizon. This was yet another chapter of blood in the ages long feud between Light and Dark. It was another battle, another clash, another hate-fuelled bout of bitterness that echoed with the shadows of regret and pain.

Seeing no reason to hold back, the Dark Elf commander ordered the attack.

'Advance!' Dark Lord Kallegar roared, his voice sounding slightly metallic from beneath his dark iron helm. His narrow eyes flickered. The Reapers on the hills fired, their bolts slicing through the air like striking hawks. A single enemy rider was felled, a Silver Helm warrior pitched from the saddle as the bolt slammed into his breastplate. Another bolt cut down a crewman from the Eagle's Claw battery. Kallegar smiled. It proved their superiority over the High Elves' machines.

'Engage! Let not the Druchii win this fight! We need that talisman!' Prince Menethal gripped the reins of his horse tightly. The relic was so close. All they needed to do was beat this army and claim it in the name of Dramalliel. It was what should rightfully be, the prince thought. Once it was theirs, that would be two artefacts reclaimed, and their honour intact.

Sea Company opened fire, whittling down the Druchii spearelves as they approached. A whole rank of the spearelves was felled, along with two of the hated repeater crossbowmen. Two vile witch elves, twirling their polished blades, also went down to the Shadow Warriors. But it wasn't enough. Menethal could see that it would be a hard fought battle this day.

As the two armies advanced on each other across the rugged plain, one could almost feel the immaterial hate filling the air. Menethal ordered his cavalry forward, feeling the loss of each High Elf keenly. Already one of his Silver Helms had fallen: such a price would be repaid in blood upon the Druchii scum. He hated the Reapers, knowing what a vulnerable position he was in. As if to testify to his line of thought, he heard the telltale whistling of more bolts descending through the darkening skies. Ducking instinctively, he gritted his teeth in anger as three more Silver Helms were punched from their steeds.

'No…Druchii bastards!'

It was time for vengeance.

'Charge!'

The remaining Silver Helms, led by their prince, thundered into the Druchii spearelves. Blades flashed like lightning bolts and black shields were raised against the god-like charge.

'You will die for your existence!' Menethal scythed down a Druchii warrior as the riders smashed into the dark elves. His horse reared up and brought its silver-shod hooves cracking down on another's skull, caving it in with little resistance. The glittering lances of the Silver Helms impaled two more, and the thick of combat ensued. Through the fighting Menethal spied the Druchii general, mounted on his great, scaly beast.

'Coward! Face me and hand over the talisman!'

'Never, vile one of Ulthuan! It's mine now, mine!' Kallegar's voice was filled with spite. 'And death to anyone who retreats! Kill the Ulthuan scum!'

Sapphire Company crashed into the dark elf chariot, rendering it useless as they struck out at it with their long-shafted weapons. Commander Mithrean was amongst them. He hacked with his sword, slaying the first crewman with a blow to the gorget, slicing through armour, flesh and bone. The second elf came at him, but he dodged beneath the wild swing and slashed up into the warrior's heart. As the cold ones were butchered by the spearelves around him, he shouted his encouragement and Sapphire Company surged forwards into the Executioners, shining scales glinting and speartips stabbing like serpents.

The winds of magic began to howl, slowly at first, but stronger. The High Mage closed his eyes and focussed his mind. This relic was his. If he were to reclaim it, he would need to assist Menethal's army and use his formidable powers. He was eager to exact revenge on the Druchii filth. A furrow formed in his forehead as he tapped into the magical winds and gathered the power he required.

A burst of flames sprang from Dramalliel's palm and engulfed the Executioners. Three mailed warriors ignited, bright sparks against the drab surroundings of the rocky terrain.

As the howling Witch Elves rushed towards Sapphire Company, their swords gleaming, the Reapers fired again. The deathly rain fell, killing two proud Dragon Princes as they moved to support their Ulthuan comrades. The Shore Riders also suffered five casualties, victims to the lethal fire of the Druchii crossbowmen. As the last of their number suicidally charged his foes, the Druchii levelled their repeater crossbows and took aim.

Menethal hacked and cut all around him. He and his remaining knights were being surrounded by the press of dark elf bodies. They would soon be cut off, and the grinning Kallegar was still clutching the talisman about his throat. If he died here, the talisman would forever be in Druchii hands.

'Retreat!' As the High Elf prince spurred his steed to leap over the heads of his foes, followed by the Silver Helm captain, the other knight was pulled from his steed and stabbed. Trying to ignore the death of another comrade, Menethal and his captain galloped away, pursued by the hated Druchii. Then the Dragon Princes crashed into the Druchii flank.

'Die, Ulthuan traitor!' The Dark Elf Assassin was suddenly amongst the High Elf ranks, ripping through bodies and staining the ground with the blood of his victims. Then Mithrean fought his way through the spearelves towards the black-cloaked elf. He parried the coming blow, then swept his blade up through the assassin's guard.

'Now its time for you to die,' he spat, taking off the assassin's head. Blood spurted onto his armour but a victorious smile spread across his face. As the battle increased in its ferocity, spearelves falling to the huge blades of the Executioners and the ripping talons of the Witch Elves, Mithrean sprang into the ranks of the Druchii. He was a whirlwind of death, cutting about him and driving them away in a panicked retreat. The witch elves held firm though, and their evil cackling filled the air with dread as they fought on.

Dramalliel gestured at the Cold One Knights. Weaving his hand in a complex symbol, he cast a Curse of Arrow Attraction upon them. The Shadow Warriors' fire then threw two of the Druchii riders from the saddle, just as the Eagle's Claws opened fire. Another Druchii knight was killed, and a single crossbowman fell, his ribcage skewered by an accurate shot.

'And now its your turn, crones,' Mithrean snarled, hacking his way through the witch elves. Around him Sapphire Company slashed and stabbed a bloody path, chasing down their foes and trampling them into the dust. The Cold One Knights were ahead, and taking the impetus of the elves' victory, Mithrean directed his elves into the loathsome knights.

Mithrean spotted Kallegar, and the talisman. Without a second's thought he challenged the enemy general to a duel.

'Fight me, and hand over that charm!'

'Only if you can take it from me, scum!'

The ring of blades split the air as both sides parted to make way for their leaders. Neither could best the other, they were so evenly matched in skill. Both hated the other openly, and sparks flew from the contact of their swords. The battlefield reverberated with the favourite sound of war: the clash of steel on steel as mighty heroes fought.

As the constant rain of ithilmar continued, killing the crew of a Reaper and cutting into the crossbows, Menethal reined in his steed and prepared for a re-charge. It was time to turn the tide again.

'Charge!' The Silver Helms rumbled into the Druchii spears again and this time the Druchii couldn't stand against them. Menethal's yelling sword killed any who stood in his way. With the spearelves eradicated, the prince overran up the hill and into the crossbows.

The Druchii blade bit deep into Mithrean's shoulder. Gritting his teeth in agony as Kallegar wrenched free his sword, he watched as the dark elf raised his weapon again.

'Time to die, Ulthuan filth.' The sword hilt came crashing down to knock the commander unconscious. Sapphire Company was locked in ferocious battle against the Cold One knights. Soon, they took bloody revenge and drove their foes back. Kallegar was forced to retreat.

'You may have won this battle, but the talisman is MINE!' He laughed as he fled.

The Executioners held their ground against the triumphant spearelves but Menethal sliced down the last of the crossbows. The battle was won, but the relic was lost.

A RELIC FALLS INTO DRUCHII HANDS

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