Lucas and I played an 8th ed game recently, where the scenario and army lists were all written by Jack. It was a fun game with a lot of poor animosity rolls on the greenskin side, but ultimately a very close game. Both sides were given a secret objective in the days leading up to the game which really made it interesting.
Shep-ket surveyed the lightly forested valley before him. From his vantage on the southern hills he could see the entire length of the valley and the small greenskin encampment perched halfway up the other side. He still couldn’t believe how anyone could still be this primitive, over 3000 years after the fall of the greatest civilisation. These beasts did not deserve to live if they couldn’t pull themselves out of the dirt.
Pulling his mind back from distraction he sent it scrying out over this valley, and as expected he felt the presence of several sacred artifacts. It seems Nettentep was right, this was the tribe that had stolen so many precious artifacts from them.
Seeing the village was quiet and almost uninhabited Shep-ket gave the order to strike.
The element of surprise was never going to be their strongest stratagem to employ in this battle, for the monstrous footsteps of the animated constructs of the Necrosphinx or warsphinx could be felt miles away. As it was, speed was the key, with the chariots of the lesser king, Merhathor, great great grandnephew to the almighty Heck-amn-Raaket, at their head.
A small band of the diminutive goblins rushed out from their dwellings at the arrival of the Nehekarans in the valley. Forming up rough lines they soon broke down into a squabbling mess. The spear wielding goblins on the eastern flank, angry about something unintelligible, started hurling insults, rocks and other fouler things at the archers in the centre who responded with their bows, leaving 10 goblins dead. This squabbling allowed the constructs to get closer, and when the goblins finally stopped, they hastily pushed their fanatics out into the paths of the marble monsters.
On the western flank, the goblin shaman inadvertently set off the elaborate scarab pendant he was holding. The resultant release of power forming itself into a whirling storm of skulls that sped its way south. This storm passed straight through the kings chariot unit and when it cleared two of their number had been brought down. However, the king, now seeing the location of one of their prized possessions, sped his chargers further on towards the goblin lines. While at full gallop, his charioteers drew their bows and fired on the lone fanatic cackling and shrieking in both madness and terror towards them. With the goddess Asaph lending them accuracy, the fanatic fell, pierced by two Nehekaran arrows.
Back in the centre, the goblin units continued their argument. This time urging themselves into a frenzy they charged towards the Nehekaran constructs. One unit of goblins with spears fell upon the warsphinx with one goblin managing to inflict a wound to the statue. The resultant fury from the beast and the riders saw many goblins squashed. This burst their bubble of heroism and they turned tail and fled, with the warsphinx catching the terrified greenskins. The other unit of spear wielding goblins, charged the necrosphinx, battering their way through three fanatics in their haste. Not to be outdone, their rivals, the goblin archers also charged, though they avoided the fanatics. The result was decided quickly with the fanatics killing more goblins than the statue did. In the end the spear goblins were wiped out, while the archers survived enough to run away.
As if from some unseen order, the necrosphinx, turned its serene stone face towards the goblin shaman in the building, with a soundless leap it crashed into the crude stone bulwark and tore the goblin in half, recovering the Scarab Pendant for its master. Turning its gaze northwards it sped off after the orc shaman, hoping to reclaim another artifact.
With the goblin army either fleeing or dead, Merhathor set his men to redress the lines, no sooner had he given the order though than horns were heard to the west.
Dust and the stomp of heavy metal shod feet announced the arrival of the orc horde. At its head was an enourmous orc mounted on muscled boar. Alongside him marched a unit of black orcs, more muscle and iron than anything else. Either side was a unit of orc boyz and to the south, staring down the casket of souls was a giant.
As the giant lumbered up the hill, the skeleton archers fired flight after flight of enchanted arrows with none finding purchase in the tough skin. With a crash the giant swung his club at the skeletons scattering bones across the hill top. The skeletons managed to inflict more pain with their swords than with their bows however once the skeletons were dealt with the lumbering brute charged forwards and headbutted the casket, causing a massive split in the golden case.
With a coordinated charge, the chariots crashed into the black orcs whilst Prince Shepsekhaf attempted to hold the boar boyz in place long enough for his king to flank them. Giving aid to the chariots, Heirophant Shep-ket hexed the black orcs, causing their strength and fortitude to falter long enough for the chariots charge to crash home. The hex proved the difference as 13 orcs fell with the remaining choppping two chariots to splinters. The impetus of the charge and the mounds of dead orcs around them convinced the surviving Black Orcs to turn and flee. The chariots were hot on their heels and slammed into the waiting orc boyz behind. They repeated the process against these orcs, driving them away with the shear brutality of their charge.
On the left of Tomb King Merhathor, his Prince was doing his duty and holding against the Boar Boyz and Warboss. With spears set, the orcs piled into the undead. The giant warboss, itching for a fight started to make his way towards the Prince. Swinging his mighty Ogre blade he came up against the champion of the skeletons, who managed to turn the Ogre Blade on his shield. This heroic action from his champion bought the tomb king a little time to try and de-boar some of the orcs, his blade however could not pierce their thick armour and skin. With the skeletons slowly crumbling around him and his charges, the two priests of Ualatep, coming closer and closer to danger, the Prince stood up to the mountain of muscle and dueled him. The duel was forced to a standstill for a time, but eventually the ferocity of the orc overcame Shepsekhaf and he collapsed into dust. The orc bellowed at his victory, but only had a few moments to relish in it before Merhathor's chariots came thundering into his flank. Again, the weight of the chariot charge was enough to crush many orcs and hopefully swing the combat back into the undead’s favour.
Seeing the king, resplendent in his crimson armour, Lucknark Blackhand barged his way through skeleton and orc alike to seek this new opponent. The duel was brutal, with both combatants scoring telling hits on each other in the first assault. Stepping away to reassess and set his guard, Mehathor felt a warmth flow through his desicated body. A warmth he had not felt in generations.
Unbeknownst to the combatants around him, Shep-ket had felt the return of several artifacts, one of which, the Scarab Pendant, had a vast amounts of ancient power stored within it. With the skeletons holding around him, he chanted the great spell of reawakening, drawing on the power of the casket, the recovered artifacts, and reading from one of Neferra’s Scrolls of Mighty Incantations. With an explosion of power that sent skeletons and orcs reeling, Shep-ket restored the feeling of life to the undead around him.
With what felt like a return to the golden age Merhathor stepped back in to engage the Blackhand. As the orc saw the king begin the next assault he took a great swig from the fungus brew potion at his belt. With his new found strength the orc battered through Merhathor’s defences and stuck him a mortal blow. As the king died and his tired, tortured and aged soul left his body it cursed the giant orc aging him in seconds. With their warboss defeated the remaining orcs fled, and the tomb kings began their unending march south to Zandri.
Shep-ket felt a sense of calm over him as he marched alongside his army through day and night to the deserts of his ancestors. He had recovered most of the artifacts he had been tasked to find. One managed to escape his hands this time, but he had not the army left to chase. With the death of two noble figures, the near fatal wounds to Nettentep, and severe damage to the holy casket of lost souls, Shep-ket felt he had perhaps won a victory in the valley of ash. He just hoped almighty Usirian valued the weight of those artifacts over the weight of souls lost.