Jornath: Operation Gray Jewel

With the year drawing to a close, Imperial commanders were eager for a shift in the tide. Operation Gray Jewel hopefully represented the beginning of that shift. Combining huge numbers of Imperial Guard assets, the Mechanicus and the Astartes, the sole purpose of the operation would be to smash open the Ork encirclement of Fort Behras, and roll through the concentrations of aliens there driving onward into the northern mountains once more, stranding orks between the heart of the counter-attacks avenue of advance, and the eastern coast. 

Tactical Brief

Mendorus Grove is one of three railyards sitting in the area of influence under H-906 (Fort. Behras)  These railyards provide logistical depots to the fortress as well as acting as servicing stations for commercial transportation from central Kula into the mountains. Mendorus Grove primarily works as a repair facility for industrial trains carrying material to and from Usamljen Heights.  It is spread over several kilometers of open ground and it is for this openness that Tactica Command has chosen this position for our breakthrough. The northern avenues to the Fortress through the Ctre Valley have been rendered inaccessible to our vehicles from heavy bombardment, as well the majority of the Ork presence has encamped there. The east, with Saine Yeltsville and the suburban areas, collapsed two months ago under severe Xenos pressure, leaving the only viable avenue there for armored counter assault firmly in opposition control.

Therefore the flat ground, around the railyard has been chosen to maximize the capabilities of our armored vehicles and allow Infantry units to make full use of range to neutralize the Orks before they can close to close quarters. The primary objective of the attack will be the seizure of an Ork forward operating base built into the repair yards of the 3rd transit hub.  It is likely that the local tribal leaders are positioned here, alongside a bulk of ammunition and xenos heavy equipment.

The offensive will be preceded by scheduled artillery fire from Fort Behras onto positions to the south of the ork FOB to aid Pioneer units in clearing minefields in preparation for 1st wave assets.

Game Overview

5000 points per side.

1 “Superheavy Class or Gargantuan” option per side.

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Deployment will be 12’’ off from Long Table Edges

Each team is allowed 15 minutes for planning and 15 minutes for deployment. Any units not deployed within the allotted time period are to be placed into reserve. Deployment will be in the pre-8th edition style, with Imperial forces deploying first.  First turn will be decided by roll-off.

The board will have 3 territorial objectives placed evenly across the middle of the table in No Man’s Land that will allot victory points on turn 3 and on turn 6 to the side that has more Wounds, inside or within 3’’ of these objectives.

Maglev Repair Hanger - This repair hanger has been retrofitted by the greenskins into a Mek Workshop of terrifying proportion, the position is heavily fortified, and bolstered. Much of the facilities repair machinery is located in its underground substructure.  This is a Vital Objective, worth 4 VP on turn 3 and 6VP on turn 6.

Cargo Yard- The material storage area for cargo going out from the railyard, and for spare parts used by the repair hangers. This objective is worth 2 VP on turn 3 and  3 VP on turn 6.

Comptoria Gantry- The control tower for the railway, this facility guides the function of the whole of Mendorus Grove while it’s complicated auspices, sensory arrays and servo-slaves are of little interest to the Orks. The destruction of the massive glyphs and WAAAGGH banners adorning the Gantry would likely heavily demoralize Ork warbands battling in the pathway of the Offensive. This objective is worth 2 VP on turn 3 and 3 VP on turn 6.

Imperial Stratagems

Strategic Reserve (2CP)- When a unit of Imperial Guard Infantry you control is completely destroyed. You may expend this stratagem, to bring a fresh unit with identical upgrades to that unit’s starting profile onto the field on your next movement phase as though from Reserve.

Mobile Bastions (2CP)- When an Infantry unit would become the target of attacks from ranged weaponry, if that unit has a model within 3’’ of any Imperial vehicle, then it may instead differ those attacks to that vehicle instead.

Death from the Skies (3CP)- During your shooting phase you may select 3 enemy units within line of sight of any platoon or company commanders. Roll a D3, the result will be the unit selected to receive an attack following this profile  ( 1xD6 - Strength: 7  AP: -1   Damage: 1)

Angels of War (2CP)- When an Imperial Guard unit would fail a battleshock test, if the unit is within 9’’ of a unit with keyword <Space Marine> then the test, will instead pass successfully. If an Imperial Guard unit chose to fallback from combat, but are within 9’’ of a Space Marine unit they may act as normal this turn, rather than suffering the penalties for withdraw

Surgical Operators (3CP)- If a unit with keywords <Space Marine> or <Tempestus Scion>  are within the Maglev Repair Hanger, you may expend this stratagem. The unit chosen will not suffer the penalties for moving and shooting with a heavy weapon, advancing and shooting with an assault weapon, and may choose to fire twice with rapid fire weapons on this turn, at targets also within the Maglev Repair Hanger.

   ORK Stratagems

Get Lootin’ Ladz! ( 3CP): If a unit of infantry is in close combat with a vehicle that has less than 3  wounds remaining, they may attempt to seize control of the vehicle themselves. If the orks deal more wounds to the vehicle that are dealt to their own unit (this includes wounds dealt by other units in the same combat) then the infantry unit will remove 3 models from its number and the opposing vehicle will be under the control of that units’ player until it is destroyed. The vehicle will be restored to D3+2 wounds.

Kunninly Brootal ( 3CP): Select an armored container, Ork trukk, Warbuggy, Wartrakk or a similarly sized piece of battlefield terrain, All units within 6’’ of this terrain piece or vehicle suffer D6 Strength 7, AP -1, Damage 1 hits.  Remove the terrain piece or unit from play for the rest of this game.

Da Roost (2 CP):  After deployment but before first turn, you may expend the CP for this stratagem and place a unit of Stormboyz, Lootas or Flash Gits on the Comptoria Gantry.

Mob Up Yer Runts! (2CP) : If a unit of Ork Boyz or Gretchin you control is completely destroyed. You may expend this stratagem, and place a new unit of the same type onto the board from your deployment zone at the beginning of your next movement phase, with 4xD6 members, and either 1 Nob or 1 Runtherder depending on unit type.

Propa WAAAGGH!!! (2CP): Used on a unit that you control who possess the “Waaggh” special rule in its profile. For the duration of this turn the range of that power will double to 12’’ and will effect units from allied player’s armies as well as your own.

Theme Set Stories

Put out one a day in preparation for the Apocalypse game

The weather had turned cool finally. The soft winds of early autumn rolled across the lush green hills in Northern Kula's wine country. Cohort Praefector Hildegras breathed in deeply, from the pulpit of his Leman Russ, and thought back to his days as a stripling lad chasing girls and causing a ruckus in the local alehouses. The warm glow of the sun on his face giving the perfect compliment to the breezes nip. It let him forget... to push the distant chattering of stubbers through the filter of his own nostalgia until they were festival firecrackers or Clatterbirds. To equate the bustle of the gathering might of the Imperium's armies around him to just market noise. To forget the dread of his own likely demise looming over those hills for just a little while longer...

Sergeant Aeneas sat onto the hard cot within the spartan drop-barracks that represented his squad's operations center on this planet. A throng of chapter serfs shuffling around him with a veritable library of data slates showing ammunition counts, intelligence on Ork troop movements around the squad's target area and other vital operations information. It was one of the few things that brought him enjoyment in his life. It let him focus on tasks, exert his mind without risking the lives of others. Major operations were particularly enjoyable. Especially against a foe like the Orks, an infestation of the greenskins was good to take the mind of the worsening galactic situation. He almost envied the defense force soldiers outside, they would spend their short lives only knowing the ork, able to focus on this conventional barbaric horde while elsewhere unspeakable nightmares waited to devour mankind. He pushed such gloom aside as a serf handed him Astra Militarum figures for zone 6, and he set his mind back into a happy focus.

Fusilier Vano bumped up and down in the back of the Helstannon troop carrier. The old coastal roads down from the mountains were far from ideal, but the greenskins held the paved ones since the Necs Pledge Cohort routed two months ago. The journey was filled with mixed emotions for the cohort, some of his comrades were jovial for a change in scenery. The mud-slicked depot that had been their home for the past few months was a cratered ruin, littered with the bodies of aliens and friends. But others sat in sullen silence or rocked with nervous ticks, anticipating the coming mighty offensive. Vano took out his cohort primer, hoping to take his mind off things. Just as he opened the booklet to a section on proper footwear maintenance, a deafening crack echoed out across the convoy. He dropped the book, startled by the sudden noise, which was soon followed by another and another.

"UP DAMN YOU! GET YER GUNS UP YA SKAGS!" Screamed Master Fusilier Chebzch from a few vehicles over.

Vano's heart started beating frantically. scrabbling around in a pile of equipment on the flatbed to get his lasgun. He grabbed ahold of the weapon, only for it to be knocked out of his hands by the body of Fusilier Cyril slamming against him. He tumbled to the bed of the vehicle, the rattle of Ork weapons and snap-pop of the cohorts lasguns roaring around him. A hand grasped him by the collar and yanked him off the back of the flatbed, onto the stony ground.

"Shoot the Orks you coward!" yelled a Sergeant he did not recognize from above him.

Pulling himself to his feet Vano scrabbled across the road looking for any kind of protection. Finding an autopistol on the ground he turned towards the sound of the shooting. Peering out from behind the helstannon, he could see a half dozen Gretchin withdrawing back into the coastal marshes, firing autoguns wildly back towards the convoy. The bellow of their Ork minders carried from further off into the tall reeds and scrub.The firing had not even subsided before the call came down the line from the Master Fusilier.

"Right! Mount Up, we've got to win the bloody war and get these crates the army lads. Pick up the wounded and treat 'em in the carriers. MOVE!"

Vano returned to the back of the flatbed and hauled himself up. He turned to help up some injured, laying them as carefully as possible around the scattered equipment and Cyril's body. He sat back down roughly into his seat, numb to the world.

The convoy kicked back into motion, ork rounds still smashing against the vehicles as they bucked down the roads into central Kula

Click Here to read more about the Fusiliers

The Valkyrie bucked from turbulence as the aircraft crossed over the coastline of Kula province. Samn leaned over a little to look out at the landscape coming into view he'd seen Kula from the air plenty of times through training drops and a handful of raids, but there was something impulsive about the act of looking that he chose to consistently indulge. He turned his attention back to cleaning his hellgun as another gunship in the formations blocked the view out the door gunners nest.

In a few hours time, the Valkyrie was touching down amidst a vast field of prefabricated shelters, armored vehicles of every shape and size. Samn polished off the cohort badge of his beret, donning the hat and getting to his feet.

"Sergeant, order the formation to parade ready deployment, would you," he spoke over his shoulder thumbing the rune of opening on the Valkyries assault ramp. The heavy slab of adamantine dropped almost noiselessly to the soft grass below. beyond the end of the ramp across a few meters of open ground denoting the landing area stood a fierce taciturn looking off-worlder in the accouterments of a lord commissar. Samn put on his best diplomatic smile and made sure to put a swagger in his step on approach to demonstrate his confidence and status as a cohort commander.

"Lord Commissar Gralin "Gladius" It is auspiciously met. I am Samn, son of Crocren of the Isle of Precpia, leader of the Royal Guard of that Islands most noble and hon..."

"Shut the hell up! You Jornathii and your introductions, I swear to him on earth. I have three questions commander you will answer them with brevity. growled the Lord Commissar.

"W..W...well very well then..." stammered Samn, very much deflated and not a little bit angered at having been spoken to in such a manner in front of his cohort.

"Do Sub-sector logistical figures of your cohorts strength and armament match the truth." spoke the Lord Commissar, with the same menacing growl from before.

"It does my lord, 9,000 Souls. Grenadiers. Specialist Airborne Assault Infantry according to standard specifications."

"How many engagements have your forces participated in?"

"2 Raids my lord. One on Valeri Pesh, the other a Manor house to rescue a nobleman's family."

The lord commissar seemed puzzled at this but spoke nothing in direct reply to it.

"Does your cohort have outstanding social, economic or political grievances with any unit currently serving under the 1st Army Group?"

"No my lord we are Precpian, not Manfredi"

A look of mild exasperation this time.

"It is the decision of the command staff of this army group that your cohort shall be broken into three divisions to hit key locations in the operations area. Your men will have the immense honor of securing tier 1 objectives alongside the emperors avenging angels. Fail in this and I swear to you now I will personally execute you for embarrassing this army." Said the Lord Commissar with poison behind every word.

With the meeting done the Lord Commissar turned and stormed off into the heart of the camp. The certainly don't call him the Mordian bulldog for no reason he thought to himself. He stood an absolute stew of emotions, if he was successful here he might go down in sector history as a hero, and to battle alongside Astartes, was an honor he had never hoped to attain in his professional life. But there was also so much at stake...

He turned around to his cohort.

"COMPANY COMMANDERS TO ME!" he bellowed

Jornath: Vengence of Medusa

This is the third in a series of narrative battle reports following the actions of the Sons of Medusa as they hunt down the Ork Warboss/Mek known as Oilymaw. for the first story click HERE and for the second click HERE



Corporis wiped the blood out of his eyes that was flowing out of the recent cut on his face, his helmet lost in the marshy streets of the Ork scrap cities. He took a deep breath of the chill coastal air, it smelled of salt and gunpowder. The rest of the strike force was beginning to rally around him now, save for a handful that had stayed behind to aid the Mechanicus's exfiltration from the target area, the distant sound of which still drifted across the city.

They had used the Skitarii as a diversion, drawing more of the Ork population away from them while they gave chase after Oilymaw and his bodyguard. The scrap city proved to be extremely hostile even with this distraction, however as throngs of scattered Orks rallied to Nobz and warriors sporting particularly extravagant firearms appeared to harray them. The fact that they were Astartes seemed to compound the issue, the aliens love a hard fight and the reputation of the Space Marines was such amongst these creatures that many eagerly threw themselves into battle.

Many brothers were wounded in both the initial attack on the observatory, and in the chase to cut the target off from escape. But failure now would only build Oilymaw's reputation to insane heights...he must die.


Looking up, Corporis could see the hundreds of bounding greenskin soldiers a few blocks away.

"Brother-Captain. I have arrived." boomed the voice of Ancient Castellax over the vox network. The mighty pounding feet of the venerable war-walker could be heard coming down the craggy defilade on the other side of the clearing, the other members of the reserve teams fanning out before it to meet the onrushing aliens.

Brother Tullus pulled back the control stick, banking his Thunderhawk Gunship steeply to the right, to avoid a trio of Ork dumb-fire rockets. He turned to see that the last Stormtalon had finished offloading the remainder of the strike force's reserve teams. As the craft ascended into a high orbit of the operations area, Tullus toggled the strike force vox net. "All teams are landed Brother-Captain.  Aliens are within 400 and closing to your location."

Corporis acknowledged the reports and immediately set about giving his final adjustments to the defense. "Pugno and Aerea neutralize the flanks of the retinue. Rubro you and your Hellblasters must find good choke points in the buildings. If you see the target, obliterate it with overwhelming fire. 

Rubro cautiously moved through the facility. a crisscross of broken hallways, pipework and a latticed canopy of electrical wiring lit in an array of vibrant hues by the sunset and iridescent blue glow of his squad's plasma guns. The cracks of the flanking squads' fire echoed at odd angles through the shattered complex.  But under the noise, Rubro could hear something else.

In the stories above his squad, he saw just the faintest amount of movement.  

"GRETCHIN!" he voxed to his squad.

Moments later accurate fire rained down from the pipes, ducts. Sparks and pieces of shrapnel exploded off the armor of the Hellblasters. The squads return fire, however, was exponentially more violent. A dozen bolts of star gas seared through the pipework into the gretchin's firing positions.  molten plastcrete dripped down from on high and the room fell back to quiet once more

Rubro lowered his plasma pistol and looked around to check the safety of his squad. The haze of gunsmoke and steam was only barely clearing, but through it, all of his brothers still stood. slowly becoming more at ease after the sudden assault. Outside the intensity of the firing picked up. 

Suddenly the blast door along the opposite side of the building was smashed open, flooding the smoke-filled interior with a wash of sound and light. Nearly three dozen Ork warriors poured through the new opening.  They didn't immediately see Rubro and his squad through the dim light and heavy smoke, but the Astartes could see them plainly. Almost half the beasts were incinerated with ultra hot plasma in seconds, many of the remainders fled back outside. Leaving only a handful of others, brutish massive creatures silhouetted in the dying light, their glowering yellow eyes piercing in the darkness.  

The tallest bellowed a horrendous guttural scream and came thundering toward Rubro. "Focus your fire!" he commanded.  The warboss was engulfed in plasma fire, igniting its body in a stupendous conflagration as its legs and lower torso liquified into a bloody puddle under it. The battlecry turned to one of unbearable agony, before falling silent.

Pugno was knocked back by the sheer weight of bodies rushing over the pipeline. He emptied his magazine into the broad front of the greenskins and pulled out a combat blade, parrying a blow from one Ork with the armor of his right wrist, and ramming the knife into the beast's throat. Ancient Castellax, turned his servo's protesting loudly due to the damage they had sustained in the fighting. The vox on his front barking to life. 

"Down Brother!" 

A hail of bolter rounds roared out of the Onslaught cannons affixed to the Dreadnaughts blessed hull. The fire scythed down the alien's latest charge. But still more milled around on the outskirts of buildings, gathering their courage before they attempted another try. Pugno quickly gathered himself to his feet and looked around to his brothers. Many in the squad were severely injured, Pumark, however, laid motionless beneath a duo of greenskins.  His suit's vitals still reading faintly on the squad leader's telemetry.  Pugno ran over to his fallen brother, pulling him out from under the dead aliens.  A muffled grunt came through Pumark's vox grill,  he started to ask the marine if he could still stand when he was interrupted by the strike force vox bursting to life.

"HVT eliminated Brother-Captain. Squad Rubro is withdrawing to exfiltration point."

"Understood. All Squads withdraw. Thunderhawks will provide cover for the breakaway."

Pugno and Aueternus, lifted the stricken Pumark into the back of the Thunderhawk as a hailstorm of boltfire poured into the buildings behind them. Orks were still milling around the area, but they had done what they'd come for. 

As the gunship lifted into the air the strike force vox opened once more.

"Brothers, you have all done well this day. But I must ask more of you. The force's defending the Fortress Behras are calling for priority reinforcement. No other assets may be brought to bear, therefore it falls to us to stymie the green tide."

Pugno looked around at his squad, their armor was pockmarked with the craters from hundreds of munitions impacts, the luminous green of their heraldry smeared almost black with Ork blood, ash, and mud.  He said a silent prayer to the Emperor, and set the squad looking for any ammunition that might still be stored in the gunships hold.

Oilymaw laid in the darkness of the ruined factory. Looking skyward into the nest of pipes and cables, his entire being was pain. A particularly unfortunate side effect of his species immense constitution was that it took many minutes to die from blood loss.  Groggily he attempted to look around the room, to move his arms or legs. but was unable.  

He heard a distant rattle, but couldn't concentrate his thoughts enough to understand what was making it or from where it came. His own bull-headed struggle to do so rocketed his mind back into unconsciousness.

The gentle clicking of hundreds of bones heralded the arrival of the Weirdboy and his throng of snakebites. He breathed in deeply.

"Dis one is blessed by Gorkamorka. Hunted by da mega umies he has past frew da green. Into da black"

leaning hard on a staff made of Imperial chainswords, the shaman bent over the burnt form of Oilymaw. His flesh charred, his limbs annihilated into cauterized stumps. He softly began to chant. The words spreading across the rest of the nearby orks. 

"Into da Black"

From beneath the bodies of the many slain Orks a green fog appeared, clinging low to the ground like a blanket of etheral snow. As the fog built in density so too did the feverish chanting of the gathered aliens, until it had reached a manic climax. The fog began to crackle and pop with arcing electricity. Gathering thick around the body of Oilymaw. 

In a sharp sudden instant the chanting stopped, the lightning ended and the fog disappeared. 

Oilymaw's eyes shot open, his chest heaved violently as life poured back into him.  Above him stood an Ork covered in furs and dozens of lanyards of fetishes and trinkets. Its eyes thickly outlined in tar and blood.

"Wez welcome uz back. Oilymaw Da Black!" the weirdboy cackled.

"Ur pick up da boss. Wez got to go see Da painboyz"

A massive greenskin beast moved over to Oilymaw with a grunt. and hoisted him out of the puddle of his own flesh, lashing him quickly to his chest with bits of electrical wiring from the nearby wall. Ur grunted the completion of his task, and the throng of Orks began on their way.

Jornath: Assault on Gate S-2 (Evening)

This is the concluding stage of the Assault on Gate S-2, to see the first part click Here

After only a handful of hours after Bazbrag's initial assault on the walls, his Warband renewed its attack. This time the Orks had decided to withhold their heaviest equipment, their knight-titan equivalencies and dreadnaught walkers took severe losses from the Sons of Medusa's counter-assault. While the greenskins are often thought to be without number, not even the Ork can afford to waste that much heavy equipment on a consistent basis. However, where there once were machines there now were hundreds of alien warriors.  Bazbrag had ordered forward the Ded Burnin' Troop,  a division of his Warband, under the direction of a firey Ork Psyker (referred to as Weirdboyz in the tongue of the Xenos) The Ded Burnin' Troop numbered around 500 primarily foot mobile infantry as it launched its attack on the Walls around Gate S-2 at 9:30pm.

Behras Garrison Cohort II Company after its earlier losses was diminished down to a paltry 56 men, including all officers. However it was now freshly bolstered by reserve elements from the Garrisons internal QRF, returning assets from the 11KCC, and a few hundred conscripted civilians armed with anything the defensive force could find to hand. With Commander Souza slain in the initial attack on the Gate, overall command of the defensive sector fell to his immediate subordinate Confrater Galton. Normally Galton was involved in working with the Ecclesiarchy and the administrative sections of the Behras Vineyards Bottling Corporation, to provide alms of wine, grape by-product, and recycled industrial waste to needy areas of society. Which is to say that he essentially has little to no military experience beyond his essential training with the Cohort. Despite this, he does have a particular penchant for oratory, in the style of the Minstorum. 

Taking advice from the 11KCC detachment commander, Galton ordered II company and the reinforcing elements back off the wall, and created a secondary killzone just behind the wall, on the opposite side of the arterial causeway that ran behind the curtain wall.

The defense would be a simple plan, the QRF would hold the gate for as long as possible to force the greenskin's to take the much more exposed approach over the wall. Where the tankers would blast the aliens to pieces with massed firepower.  Should the gate fall, or the orks get over the wall a massed fusillade of rifle fire from the conscripted workers will act as the last line of resistance. 

Commander Galton set up his field command in the cemetery at the intersection of the arterial causeways. The location was wrapped in a large wrought iron fence, and the rows of mausoleums provided good cover from the ground. It was for the poetry of the place that Galton chose it as his CP for the battle however, he liked to imagine that the Imperium's honored dead might aid him in some way. 

As the bootfalls of hundreds of aliens descended on the wall, and the thud of localized mortars disturbed the relative quiet of the night air. The guards and conscripts of II company sat in formation, clutching prayer books, cleaning kit, or taking swigs of wine from the cellars, a thousand little comforts to ease the nerves. Between the lines, walked the robed figures of the Ministroum holding aloft swinging orange lanterns and loudly singing joyous hymnals. The priests and other members of the ordos had been withdrawn to the heart of the defense early in the Siege, to protect what High Command referred to as "vital spiritual and medical assets". Galton called in some old favors though, feeling that a fair bit of spirituality might do the company good. 

The call to arms came suddenly as the first trip-flare shot up into the skies from outside the wall. Officers and NCO's shouted loudly to gather equipment. The tank engines roared into life and begin to advance toward the wall with guns leading. 

As forces advanced something strange happened, a cloud of glowing green smoke drifted over the wall. Men began clamoring for their respirators, fearing a gas attack. As the smoke drifted above the causeway a deafening throaty drone blanketed the area and the cloud began to arc with electricity. The drone broke immediately, only to be followed hastily by that familiar Ork battle cry 

"WAAAAGGGHHHH!!!"

From the cloud over two dozen Orks charged the nearest KCC vehicle, firing wildly with oversized automatic weapons and waving crude axes. Stick Grenades detonated against the hull, blowing open hatches and crumpling the armor. The greenskins began to climb across the beleaguered Leman Russ, attempting to find a way to the crew within.

The initial surprise wore off soon enough, as every nearby unit unloaded a torrent of fire into the aliens, wiping out the greenskins before they could eliminate the vehicle. A mound of goreslick dead rested next to the vehicle. 

Outside the wall a harassing element from the 20th Chonn Firebrands, a Feral worlder regiment of rough riders, responsible for counter-assault and recon. Plunged headlong into the body of the Ork advance searing the aliens commander with superheated melta fire. Only to be dragged down on their attempted escape by the weight of numbers.

The Orks finally made it to the gate, pouring through and firing large caliber pistols at the men of the QRF. A frenetic short-range firefight took place as the mechanized infantry charged back.

With the gate heavily engaged Confrater Galton and the priests marshaled the conscripted workers towards their firing positions. 

The Gate was awash with combat now, as hundreds of Orks and men hacked at one another with bayonets, axes or digging tools. Automatic weapons fire from short range digging into the mass of bodies, killing scores with indiscriminate fire. 

The majority of the Orks had broken in, but a third of the QRF's infantry was able to successfully withdraw to the lines of vehicles and conscripts. The whole of the defense force formed a vee on the gate Killzone, and poured volleys of rifle fire into the onrushing Orks. 

The majority of the aliens were scythed down before they could get into contact. 

Outside the walls, the rest of the Ded Burnin' Troop started to question entering into the gate. In the face of stiff resistance, and with the force's leadership slain by the Chonn Firebrands. The remainder of the Ork forces withdrew back to their staging positions. 

After the Assault on Gate S-2, Bazbrag pulled back his warband to midtown in Saine Yeltsville, rejoining the rest of the encircling alien forces. The Walls of Fort Behras had held for another day, but as was the situation all across the fortress, men and material were desperately low. By the time of Bazbrag's assault, Tactica Command Jornath estimated that Behras would only be able to hold for another 7 months if combat levels were to maintain at their current ebb. A relief effort had been in the works for the majority of the year, to hopefully break the siege of the fortress, but reports like the attack on S-2 began to paint an ever-worsening picture of the situation, instigating a massive increase to the timetable of the counter-attack.

Named Operation Gray Jewel, the breakthrough attempt would see some of the heaviest fighting of the entire war up to this point with the deployment of new and terrifying weapons.The Battle for Jornath moved into its 3rd and potentially bloodiest year.

Thanks for reading! If you've been enjoying the Jornath setting then be sure to stay tuned. For a full list of all posts pertaining to the setting from all bloggers you can click the "Jornath [40k]" tab in the bar at the top of the page. 

-Your Favorite Madman-