The Siege of Fort Trollengerschpanken;
A Drunken Dwarves VS. Avaricious Imperials battle report.

The armies:
Gunther's Gatecrashers.

General Gunther Striche (General of the Empire): 174 Points.
Hammer of Judgement, Holy relic, Plate armour, Shield.

Grand Master Ludwig Von Flasche (Knight grand master): 240 Points.
Sword of Power, Laurels of Victory.

Ulrik Louenbrow (Battle standard bearer): 155 Points.
Griffon Banner, Plated armour, Barded warhorse.

Rudi the Unruly (Captain): 146 points.
Sword of battle, Enchanted shield, Plate armour, Pistol, Grappling hook, Pegasus.

Boris the Pious (Warrior priest): 179 points.
Great hammer, armour of meteoric iron.

Fritz Von Schpitzenschparkzen (Master engineer): 100 points.
Pigeon Bombs, Repeater pistol.

24 Swordsmen: 184 Points, +100 point siege tower.
Full command, three ladders.

53 Haldardiers: 312 points.
Full command, war banner.

19 Great swords, 235 Points + 100 point siege tower.
Full command, three ladders.

9 Inner circle knights: 324 points.
Full command, Banner of the destroyer.

10 Hand gunners: 110 points.
Marksman with Repeater handgun, mantlets.

10 Crossbowmen: 95 points.
Marksman, Mantlets.

3 Great cannons: 300 points.

Steam tank: 300 points.

Ironfoundersenn's Convoy:

'Stout' Olaf'Stout' Olaf Ironfoundersenn (Dwarf Thane): 137 Points.
Shield, Rune of Fury, Rune of Cleaving, Master Rune of Gromril.

The Magnificent Sven (Rune smith): 149 Points.
Great weapon, spell eater rune, spell breaker rune.

Grymm Knurdsenn (Master engineer): 105 points.
Handgun, Rune of dismay.

The Sign of the Brynn Grong (19 Warriors): 215 Points
Full command, Shields.

10 Thunderers: 140 points.

10 Thunderers: 140 points.

The Khazalid Temperance Society The Khazalid Temperance Society (20 Slayers): 283 Points.
Includes 3 giant slayers.

The Voice of Grimnir (Cannon): 100 points.
Rune of Reloading.

The Keg Thrower (Grudge Thrower): 100 Points.
Engineer with handgun.

The New-fangled contraption (Organ Gun): 120 points.

The battle:

The rosy rays of the dawn sun flooded down from the distant mountains to bathe the plain in their welcome light. 'Stout' Olaf Ironfoundersenn for one was glad of a little light. Although his Dwarven sense of sight was attuned to the gloom of the underway he had lived almost his whole life above ground at the family brewery in the Moot. Now in the faint radiance from the east he could make out a great dark shape ahead. It was his target, the tumble-down old human fort of Trollengerschpanken where he and his precious convoy would be able to make a stand against the avaricious imperial forces who had been worrying at them hoping to hi-jack their fine ale.
“Not far now lads!” He bellowed, waving the convoy forwards.

The rosy light brought no such pleasure the Rudi the Unruly as he flew his pegasus high over the convoy. Clearly the Dwarves would reach the old fort before his commander, General Striche could bring his full force to bear. It looked like they were in for a siege as the thirsty imperials tried to batter their way into the old fort and capture the sweetest of prizes; dwarf ale. Rudi's mouth was suddenly very wet at the thought of those cooling draughts, and his stout imperial heart filled with rage at the Dwarves who had point blank refused to have their ale commandeered as taxes by the elector count. He wheeled his pegasus back towards the main column of empirial state troops to report the position to his commander.

The battle begins!It was noon by the time the Imperial column reached Fort Trollengerschpanken, by which time the Dwarves were well prepared. They had unpacked their compact portable war machines and hoisted them through sheer brute strength to the tops of the towers. They had re-enforced the old gates and now their hand gunners lined the walls while their infantry waited below to repulse any who reached the walls. General Striche barked his orders, dispatching Fritz Von Schpitzenschparkzen with his three cannon to a low hill over-looking the fort while he deployed his troops; the halbardiers with Ulrik Louenbrow and the crossbowmen to the west of the old fort, while he concentrated the rest of his forces to the north. With a wave of his hand he ordered his men to advance.

The Imperial cannon roared, and the Dwarves noted with great amusement that one of them misfired, causing great consternation amongst the Imperial crews. The other balls however crashed into the west wall leaving it badly shaken. “Shoddy human workmanship that,” muttered Sven as the dust settled. Above him in the north-west tower, the organ gun thundered it's deadly load at Rudy the Unruly who had foolishly flown his pegasus too close. Three balls struck the Captain, but his strong armour saved him. His pegasus was not so fortunate, as seven balls, intricately carved with curses and runes converted it from a proud white charger to an ignoble red mist and Rudy found himself falling to earth. From the South West tower the Keg-thrower sent a barrel of mis-fermented beer at the halbardiers. It struck, spreading awful, stinking and acidic muck over the unit, bringing down many of the proud state troops. Around the battlements hand guns thundered, and crossbows twanged but had little effect, although the Thunderers on the Western battlements were slowly being eroded by heavy fire.

The proud steam tank nosed it's ponderous way towards the gate, brining it's cannon to bear. With a tremendous gout of high-pressure steam it hurled it's missile at the gates, cracking them. In reply, Grymm Knurdsenn aligned his own cannon on the hissing tank and fired. The heavy shell slammed into the imperial tank, it's rune-encrusted warhead, specially designed to pierce armour, cleaving the tank and smashing into the boilers. The imperial machine disappeared into a hissing cloud of steam and debris, crippled.
“Shoddy human armour that,” Muttered Grymm.

Meanwhile, Von Schpitzenschparkzen ordered his cannons to fire again. His aim proved true and the western parapet was blown down, showering Sven and his thunderers with rubble. Pulling himself out of the rubble, muttering about cheap human stone-masonry, Sven was just in time to see the human engineer launch what appeared to be a small bird, which flew towards the fort, then changing it's mind, flew back to the engineer. Von Schpitzenschparkzen turned to run, but the bird slammed into his back and... exploded.
“By Grimnir, what foolishness is this?” asked Sven as he brushed the dust from his armour.

Slowly, slowly the fire from the handguns and crossbows on both sides began to take it's toll. A few thunderers fell, but their numbers were matched by the long swords and halbardiers who were shot in return.

Somewhat shaken by his encounter with the explosive pigeon, Von Schpitzenschparkzen aimed his cannons once more, and in their thunderous discharge saw the west wall breached! His cannon crew cheered mightily, as he turned to them “Come on lads! Tis but a matter of time now!”

The empire approaches Meantime, the two siege towers approached them walls pushed forwards by the swordsmen and great swords. Grymm Knurdsenn rubbed his hands together with the glee of a master craftsman about to see his work put to fine use. “Snorri! Load the cannister!” He cried. Snorri Broadback bent to the ammunition case and drew out a squat ugly metal canister which he loaded into the cannon. Grymm pulled the firing lanyard and a lethal spray of shrapnel and small bullets vomited from the cannon's barrel reducing the fighting platform of the siege tower to matchwood and flailing the swordsmen below like wheat in a strong wind. The swordsmen panicked and fled from this terrible new threat.

From the South-west tower the keg thrower was relentlessly hurling barrels of bad beer into the halbardiers and the terrible missiles, combined with the fire of the thunderers from the ramparts were taking their terrible toll. As the brave state troops advanced, their ground behind was strewn with their fallen comrades, some of whom were now hopelessly drunk on the puddles of bad ale left from exploding kegs.

The Organ gun too was not silent, hammering shot after shot into the Great swords and their siege tower. Much to the dismay of the crew however, the Imperial troop's armour proved all but impregnable, and but a few of them fell.

As the Siege tower of the Great swords came inexorably closer to the walls, Grymm Knurdsenn pulled out his ancestral amulet and fingered the rune inscribed thereon. Pulling out a small hammer, he delicately struck the rune and suddenly the empirial army didn't feel so confident. The great swords faltered, allowing the Organ gun time to fire upon them again. Much to the dismay of it's crew it failed to fire – the firing mechanism had been jammed by fine grit thrown up by the bombardment of the ramparts.

Meantime the Thunderers on the North wall blazed away with a will, striking down two proud knights of the inner circle.

'Phutt!' Even as they were firing, the Imperial great cannons spoke again. Unfortunately,while one said 'Boom' it said it rather too loudly, blowing itself to shreds. The other said only 'phutt' as it refused to fire, much to the amusement of the Dwarves.
“Buy yourself a Knurdsenn & Knurdsenn” came the cries from the ramparts “Warranted never to fail!”

Their exultation was short lived as the imperial gun crews quickly righted the fault in their weapon and used it to blow the west wall down! Unfortunately, the Halbardiers were a little to close and were struck by falling debris. The Magnificent Sven hauled himself from the debris, unharmed and with the last surviving thunderer charged into the halbardiers roaring terrible Khazalid oaths. His brave and noble last stand was to little avail as the state troops easily slapped him aside and strode forwards.

The Great swords shoved their tower to last few yards into contact with the walls and poured up it. The Thunderers manning the ramparts put up a stalwart defence, but proved no match for the Imperials, aided by Boris the Pious and his holy hammer. Great swords poured out of the tower, seizing the ramparts.

Again the Organ gun thundered, and again two Knights fell. With the walls attacked, and no artillery able to fire upon the gates, the noblemen began to think they would never make it into the castle – not unless they could teach their steeds to climb ladders.

The temperance society charges! The Slayers, seeing the Great swords on the ramparts rampaged forwards, driven beyond the brink of insanity by abstinence from the life-giving dwarven ale, these crazed killing machines swung their ancestral axes in the hopes of atoning for that greatest of sins – spilling a pint. The Great swords put up a stiff resistance, and two giant slayers found their glorious end.

Rudy the Unruly, who had been taking pot-shots at the Organ gun with his pistol, and showing off just how poor a shot he was, finally gave up and ran over to join the halbardiers as the Dwarf warriors charged over the destroyed wall and slammed into them. Stout Olaf himself lead the charge, bellowing theThe Magnificent Sven emerges from the rubble ancient war cry of Ironfoundersenn “Protect the Ale! Protect the Ale!” With his mighty rune-axe he laid about him, cutting a bloody swathe through the imperial troops as his stout warriors got set in to a bit of Umgi slaying. The Imperials, bolstered by the magical powers of their Battle Standard and Unit standard would not be defeated, and in a terribly uncharacteristic moment of poor morale, the Dwarves fled, only to be caught and destroyed by the jubilant imperials. Later historians would put the Dwarves uncharacteristic performance down to not having drunk any ale during the siege, which by this time had lasted over four hours.

Again, explosive ladden pigeons flew o'er the field of battle, but this time the bird found it's mark, and detonated on the Organ Gun, killing two crewmen. This did not prevent the last crewman firing it at the knights, and slaying three of their number.

On the other tower the cannon belched cannister again, reducing yet more swordsmen to a bloody smear on the landscape.

As the Halbardiers rampaged into the courtyard and began the tricky manoeuvre of turning so as to charge the slayers, the Dwarf war machines turned inwards. While the cannon's efforts were not all they could have been, the Keg thrower landed a deadly barrel of bad brew which felled a further seven of the imperial troops.

Meantime, the Slayers and Great swords continued their epic combat, the great swords slowly taking down the slayers, but loosing their own men faster.

The Halbardiers charge home! The Halbardiers managed to get themselves in position, and charged into the rear of the Slayers whooping exultantly at the thought of all the ale which would soon be theirs. The swordsmen, lead by Gunther Striche himself charged up the stairs towards the cannon which had been such a terrible thorn in their side, but met with stiff resistance. The General himself was wounded when Grymm Knurdsenn hit him in the head with a hurled breach-block.

General Striche accepts the surrender.
The great swords, heartened by the arrival of the halbardiers set to with a will, and despite their ferocity and undoubted skill, the weight of numbers was against the slayers. Soon, the last blue-headed lunatic found his glorious end in combat, and the castle belonged to the Empire. Seeing this, Grymm Knurdsenn offered his no. 2 riveting hammer in surrender to the Imperial General, who accepted it. In all, the Dwarves had only their keg-thrower fully operational, and none of their infantry units remained.

The spoils of war! As the last rays of the sun played on the bloodied stones of Fort Trollengerschpanken, Gunther's men hitched the Dwarven steam-wagon (which refused to start) to their battered tank, and, followed by the pony-drawn beer wagon set off homewards. Gunther Striche surveyed his victorious column as he raised a stein of cold Dwarf ale to his lips. By Sigmar it was good!