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The Blood Deserts of Auros IX Intro <> 2 Player Rules <> Multiplayer Rules <> Alternate Scenario <> Battle Summaries The Blood Deserts
of Auros IX: Battle Summaries (Battles #10 and #11)
Battle
#10: "Nuttin' fancy: just 'urt 'em bad"
(2000
points per side)
Not because of how the invasion was going. Though the Tigers had enjoyed some success, victory was still a long way off, and the last mission had been particularly galling. On that mission, the Tigers had inflicted massive casualties on the Orks but had nevertheless failed when they had discovered that their objective--a captured Rhino--had been booby-trapped against them. To accomplish their mission and destroy the Rhino--and the Ork Warboss' plan to use the Tigers' communication system--they would have had to first disarm the crude Ork grenades tied to the outside of the hull. And there had been no time for that. No, he was not pleased about that. Nor was he pleased at how many Marines the war had cost already, or how tenaciously the Orks were resisting. But what did please him this morning was the stark, savage beauty of this world, so different from Veda. He liked its stony red soil and its green, spiky cacti, its deep, empty riverbeds and silent canyons. He liked how he could see his breath in the chilly air and how it had not rained once in all the weeks he had been here. For a moment he found himself envious of the miners and the settlers who would come after him and spend the rest of their lives here, exploring and taming this wild and truly beautiful world. He halted his bike atop a high ridge and, taking the monocular from his saddlebag, looked down on the thousands of advancing Orks that were still miles away. The reports from the Tigers of Puchan had been correct, of course: the greenskins, flush with success, were attempting to break through the Tiger cordon again. No doubt their Warboss intended to link up with the Orks outside the cordon and launch a massive offensive against the Space Marines from Veda. Poor fool, Raja Shamshir thought. He wondered if the Ork Warboss had any idea how few followers he had left outside the cordon. The Tigers had been content to contain him and what was left of his army for the last few weeks while they hunted down and exterminated the scattered, disorganized mobs cut off from their Warboss. Or, more accurately, while the Tigers hunted down and exterminated the Orks that hadn't already killed each other fighting for supremacy now that their Warboss didn't have them under his iron boot. Raja Shamshir watched them for a long time--how long, he didn't know--until he heard the rasping whine of Scout bikes. A squad of them, female Tigers of Puchan in white and brown armor, approached. The Scout Sergeant dismounted and bowed low before him. "Greetings, Raja Shamshir. Your advisor, Talwar Chakram, is distressed that you have not responded to her repeated attempts to contact you. May I ask if your communication equipment is in working order?" "It is in working order. I merely wished to be alone for a time." He took another look at the Orks through the monocular. "I take it she disapproves of my venturing out into the desert alone and wishes me to return to base at once." "The Raja is as wise as he is formidable," the Scout Sergeant answered. "Tell Talwar Chakram that I will return by and by." "Forgive me, mighty Raja, but she instructed me not to return without you." "Perhaps I shall have to remind Talwar Chakram that I answer to only three people in the galaxy: my counterpart, Raja Khandar; our Founder, Maharaja Shiva; and the Bhraman, the Sleeping Emperor whose dreams shape the universe." He replaced the monocular in his saddlebag. "Nevertheless, I have finished here. Let us return to base and prepare our attack."
Battle
#11: "Get 'em!"
(2000 points
per side)
Nevertheless, his Boyz were tired and wounded. Some mobs had been whittled down to just a few Orks. Some changes would have to be made if they were going to kick those Tigers off their planet. “Boss! Boss!” yelled Sprokkits the Mekboy, his bare, flat feet flapping over the blood-red gravel as he ran. “Not now. I’m busy,” Sho-T growled. He stopped in front of Gordreg, the Stikk Bommas’ Nob, and scowled. “Suck in dat gut! Eyes front! Wipe dat smirk off ya face, ya mook. Youze a piss-poor example to da udder Nobz.” “But Boss,” Sprokkits panted, coming to a halt—well outside arm’s length—near Sho-T. “Lookee what I found.” Sho-T looked back at the gaggle of Gretchin behind Sprokkits. They were struggling along, dragging several large pieces of scrap. As they came closer, Sho-T saw that they had scavenged several parts from some Tigerwagons. “Whatchu got dere, Sprokkits?” “Dese parts is gonna make some really ‘ooge guns, Boss. Big boomas. Real zappa like.” Sho-T cocked his shoota and stuck it in Sprokkit’s face. “None of dat nookleer stuff again. I’ve warned yoo about dat….” Despite the cool, dry air, Sprokkits managed to break into an immediate sweat. “No Boss, nothing like dat. Good old-fashioned Orky blasta stuff. You’ll see.” Sho-T grinned. It was all coming together. “Dat's okay den. Sprokkits, lad, yoo build as many of dose new blasta guns as yoo want. Meantime, me and da boyz will have a lil talk ‘bout kickin’ dem Tigerz right in dere stripey tails.”
The Blood
Deserts of Auros IX
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