1000 pts Space Wolves vs Space Marines

Rune Priest Svald Grimbold muttered under his breath, cursing his pox-ridden luck for being assigned to the inter-Chapter training drill with the Imperial Fists. “Arse of Russ!” Svald swore, hating every moment of what was happening. Svald was being punished by his Wolf Lord Jorgmundarsson for leading the Great Company onto Serpentine’s World, only to find that the Imperial Fists had already destroyed the main forces of the Arch Enemy. Svald’s liege lord had promptly ordered the rest of the Great Company to depart for the nearby Tyranid-threatened world of Hydraponus IV. Svald would join them only after upholding their honour as the Wolves of Fenris by defeating the Imperial Fists in a mock battle.

Svald Grimbold had three Grey Hunter Packs at his command; Snorrisson, Lupinesson and Rjieksson. These Grey Hunters were led by Wolf Guards assigned to his personal command by the Wolf Lord himself who strained to get stuck in a melee with the Imperial Fists. Svald’s marines detested this inane combat drill, knowing that every moment could be spent cleansing the stars of xenos taint. Their pent-up frustration led them to clamour to rush forward in their Rhinos and get within bolter and chainsword range. Yet, bound by ancient oaths of fealty and honour, they had no choice but to follow Svald’s words as though they were their liege lord’s very own. The crew of Thundercrasher; the pugnacious Vindicator that was assigned to them for this sorry excuse of a battle, revved their engines and prepared their demolisher cannon for action. The Wolf Scouts, ever taciturn, accepted their duty without comment, without visible remonstrations.

Svald deployed his forces in a single battle line, just beyond the ridge of the huge crater that divided the two sides. The Grey Hunters in the Rhinos would utilise the thick jungle growth for cover, blocking any heavy weapon attack the Imperial Fists could bring to bear. Thundercrasher would be in the open, daring any to come to them. His Wolf Scouts would be held in reserve and used to outflank any Imperial Fist forces. Svald shook his head, unhappy at this. He was a Son of Fenris, not some fortifications-obsessed fool who waited for his enemy to approach. This was exactly the kind of tactics his opponents would favour. Yet this was his penance. This would absolve him of his shame.

And so, battle commenced.

Thundercrasher’s cannon launched a Kraken-pattern demolisher shell towards the lines of the Imperial Fists. It scattered slightly, but took down a few of the scouts. Peering into the darkness, Svald realised that if the Scouts were in the open, they were surely attempting to plant a teleport homer. No Space Marine commander would deploy Scouts in plain sight without a good reason. Besides, Svald could not sense the presence of any other Imperial Fists, save a faint trace of a Rhino’s smoke exhausts wafting through the air. To Skald, this meant that the Imperial Fists would have reserved the bulk of their forces.

As Thundercrasher kept up a steady pace of firing upon the Scouts, the crews of the Rhino added the weight of their Storm Bolters as well. In a miscalculation, one of the Grey Hunters in Pack Snorrisson had grabbed his plasma gun and fired without uttering the correct rites taught by the Iron Priests of the Chapter. Svald groaned as his force took their first casualty. Irritated, he gathered the powers of the storm to him, calling down Living Lightning upon the Imperial Fists exposed in the open. To his great dismay and further frustration, the Fists had escaped every single strike in an amazing display of nimbleness. Yet, it was not enough to prevent them from falling to the combined power of multiple bolter rounds and Thundercrasher.

“Rune Priest, the Imperial Fist Captain is attempting to charge our battle line.” voxed the crew of Thundercrasher to Svald. Svald grinned, his fangs glinting sinisterly. Now that was a surprise. Imperial Fists were not known for such zealot charges. That sort of action fell to more melee-oriented Chapters like their successors the Black Templars or others like the Blood Angels and the Space Wolves themselves.

The Captain was advancing at a quick pace, several bolter shots pattering harmlessly off his armour and his Iron Halo dealing with the rest. He energised his twin lightning claws, clearly anticipating ripping a bloody swathe through the ranks of the Wolves to teach them who was clearly the master.

Svald realised at that point that the Captain was not on a suicidal charge for glory! He was going to link up with the reserves who would be deep striking behind his lines to catch his marines from a vulnerable position! Svald voxed to the Wolf Guard leading the Wolf Scouts to launch a flanking counterattack, to punish the idling Rhino that sat on one of the objectives the Wolves were aiming to claim for honour. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, they ended up further away from the Rhino than expected.

Snarling, Svald ordered all guns to fire upon the Captain, hoping to eliminate that fell-looking warrior-master before he could bring his deadly skill to the fray. By the skin of the teeth of Morkai, they did it. All that remained for them was to deal with whatever the Fists had put into reserves. Svald drew upon inner wells of power. Gritting his teeth, he resisted the call of the Warp and casted Tempest’s Wrath, rocking the ground with tremendous quaking and turned the gentle breeze into howling gales that promised bloody vengeance.

The Imperial Fists teleported a squad of Terminators and deep striked a full squad of Assault Space Marines. The vagaries of the Warp had kept them out of the battle so far and they were determined to wreak havoc to regain a chance at victory. A shrieking krak missile flew from the Imperial Fist Rhino and slammed home into Thundercrasher, heralding the start of their assault. Thundercrasher stood firm, its front armour merely blackened. The Terminators and the Assault Space Marines rallied and attempted to charge Svald’s Rhinos but were quickly felled by the weight of bolter rounds that took a heavy toll.

The Wolves were victorious and by Russ, Svald’s shame expunged by defeating the Fists who had triumphed over the enemies they were supposed to fight on Serpertine’s World. Ale casks were broken out from the Rhinos and the cousins from both Chapters drank deep to symbolise that no grudge was held between the two strike forces.