The Second Battle at the Farm
Part II: Alarm in the Night
The shriek of the alarm shattered the silence.
Floodlights blazed to life around the abandoned farmhouse
as signal flares arced overhead, turning the orchard into a landscape of harsh
shadows and dancing light. The Blood Axe Kommandos had lost the advantage of
surprise.
Now they intended to win through violence.
The first volley was directed at Veteran Sergeant Diego Navarro, who had inadvertently wandered to within a few paces of an entire mob of Orks. Slugs ricocheted from his armor as the greenskins poured fire into him from almost point-blank range.
Fortunately for Navarro, years of experience had taught
him that a good conversion field generator was worth its weight in adamantium.
Every shot was turned aside.
Apparently the Emperor was watching over him...
...or perhaps He simply wasn't finished laughing yet.
Elsewhere, the Blood Axe Nob and his plasma-armed
accomplice stepped from cover and unleashed blasts of superheated energy into
the Mac-Guphin Engine. The experimental machine groaned under the punishment
but stubbornly refused to die, suffering only a single wound before the plasma
weapons overheated and required time to recharge.
The remaining Kommandos concentrated their fire on the Scouts occupying the farmhouse.
From the hillside, the hidden heavy stubber gunner joined in, raking Navarro's position with heavy fire.
The Veteran Sergeant simply refused to cooperate with the
Orks' plans.
Again, every hit was absorbed by his crackling power
field.
With the defenders finally alerted, the Crimson Fists
sprang into action.
Reinforcements were called.
Three warriors answered.
Unfortunately for the defenders, fate had one final joke
prepared.
The Heavy Bolter Scout, the Sniper Scout, and the
Chaplain all entered from the southern table edge... the one furthest from the
fighting.
The Heavy Bolter Scout immediately set up a firing position while the Chaplain and Sniper advanced cautiously through the darkness, trying to close the distance before the battle was decided without them.
Navarro withdrew from the encroaching mob, raised his
boltgun, and prepared to exact a measure of revenge.
Above him, the Scouts on the second floor hurried into proper firing positions at last.
The Crimson Fists unleashed a disciplined volley.
When the smoke cleared...
Not a single Ork had fallen.
 |
| YOU GO BOYS! |
The Blood Axes, delighted with this unexpected turn of events, wasted no time pressing their advantage.
The plasma gunners ducked into cover to allow their weapons to cool while the Kommando Kaptain charged directly toward the Mac-Guphin Engine, his massive power fist crackling with destructive energy.
It was a remarkably un-Orky thing to do.
The firefight continued to rage, but it was in close
combat that the battle reached its turning point.
Veteran Sergeant Diego Navarro had become almost
impossible to kill at range. His conversion field flashed again and again as it
absorbed every shot the Blood Axes directed his way.
Then the Orks stopped shooting.
Two Kommandos charged.
Navarro fought with the determination expected of a Crimson Fist veteran, but even he could not prevail forever. When the melee ended, the Sergeant had fallen and the surviving Kommando stumbled away, undoubtedly wondering if every Space Marine was that difficult to kill.
Moments later came the decisive blow.
With a single thunderous strike of his power fist, the
Blood Axe Kaptain smashed the Mac-Guphin Engine into a heap of twisted, smoking
wreckage.
The mission had been accomplished.
At that point, there was no longer any path to outright victory for the Crimson Fists.
Neither of us, however, had any interest in ending such
an entertaining game.
Borrowing from the Necromunda rules, we agreed on a new
objective. If the Marines could inflict enough casualties to force the Orks to
bottle out before they escaped the table, we would declare the battle a draw.
Upstairs in the farmhouse, the surviving Scouts charged the Kommando who had murdered their brother moments before. After a desperate struggle, another Scout fell, but the remaining Crimson Fist finally struck the greenskin down.
Outside, every available Marine opened fire.
The farmhouse erupted in flashes of muzzle fire.
Bolts screamed through the night.
The Heavy Bolter roared.
The Sniper fired.
The Chaplain added his own bolt pistol to the chorus.
According to the law of averages...
...someone should have hit.
The law of averages apparently serves Gork and Mork.
Every single shot missed.
We blamed the emotional trauma of losing the Mac-Guphin
Engine.
Meanwhile, the Blood Axes decided that discretion was the better part of victory. Most of the surviving Kommandos sprinted for their own table edge, disappearing into the darkness with the objective accomplished.
Only three remained behind.
The Nob.
The Kaptain.
One stubborn Kommando.
As they reached the shelter of the orchard, we checked the casualty count.
Amazingly, the Marines needed to kill just one more Ork
to force a bottle test.
Every available gun immediately targeted the Blood Axe
Nob carrying the plasma gun... the very greenskin whose opening shots had
crippled the Mac-Guphin Engine and set the night's disaster in motion.
Bolts flew into the trees.
Most disappeared harmlessly into branches and leaves.
Then one Scout, carrying nothing more exotic than a
standard boltgun, stepped into short range.
One hit.
One wound.
One failed save.
The Nob collapsed.
Everything now depended on a single dice roll.
My son gathered the dice for the bottle test.
The Kaptain needed to hold.
He rolled.
Seven.
The Blood Axe Kaptain barked an order, and under both the
Necromunda gang rules and our hybrid 40K interpretation, his successful
leadership kept the remaining Kommando in the fight.
Or rather...
...in full retreat.
The Kaptain and his last surviving companion vanished
into the darkness, mission accomplished.
We both agreed that somewhere between the orchard and the extraction point, the Kaptain almost certainly turned, waved something profoundly offensive at the Crimson Fists, and disappeared into the night laughing.
Result: Ork Victory
The Mac-Guphin Engine was destroyed.
The farm was lost.
The Blood Axes escaped.
But somewhere on Rynn's World, another small band of
Crimson Fists survivors had written a new chapter in the long, desperate
defense of their dying home.
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The First battle for Rynn's world can be found here
The second battle for Rynns's world can be found here
