Sanctus reach the red waaagh pdf

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One of their fiercest leaders, Grukk Face-Rippa, leads his Red Waaagh! in the Sanctus Reach system. Worlds after worlds fall to billions of Orks, until only one. Among them is the Orks, a barbaric and warlike xeno race. One of their fiercest leaders, Grukk Face-Rippa, leads his Red Waaagh! in the Sanctus Reach system . Sanctus Reach: The Red Waaagh! isn't just about the story; there is also Reach : Volume 1 combines The Red Waaagh! and Evil Sun Rising.

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Sanctus Reach - Supplement - The Red Waaagh - Ebook download as PDF File ( .pdf), Text File .txt) or read book online. book. Sanctus Reach the Red Waaagh - Free ebook download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read book online for free. wh supplement. The Red Waaagh! is the first book in the Sanctus Reach campaign. Waaagh! Grukk: The savage tale of the Ork invasion of Sanctus Reach, the brave Knights.

Will relay to Houses Brahmica and Velemestrin forthwith. As Stein watched. The v ox -net crackled with shouts and screams as the Ork assault redoubled in intensity. Lord Stein. It fell to its knees with a clang as the Shokk Attack gun filled its cockpit with flame. Ovik knew all too well how unstoppable they could be on the charge. Barely a handful of the v icious x enos warriors make it through the storm of thermal cannon fire that greets their arriv al, and the surv iv ors retreat is just as swift as their appearance.

Bought a repriev e, the remaining Cadian platoons spread amongst the defence lines, and those few Knights that had escaped the disaster shared v ox -signs with the terse Cadian high command. They were to head south and rendezv ous by the banks of Boiling Riv er.

The Ork v anguard had been blunted, albeit at a tremendous cost. In the process, howev er, ev ery single knight of House Kestren including Lord Gaulemort had met a v iolent and painful death. T he cohesion and m utual respect that binds its squadrons together enables them to function at peak efficiency , either by supporting the sts infantry or by adding their firepower to the artillery barrages of the rd. Oviks answ er to the taunts is to let his impeccable record speak for itself, for he has led Cadias armour to victory time and time again.

Oviks personalised Leman Russ V anquisher, Ov iks Fist, has claimed hundreds of w ar engine kills over the centuries.

It has become a running joke among the Steel Host that if there is some w ay the crew men of Creeds Glaiv e can bribe, trick, coerce or scheme their w ay to the front hours or even days before the rest of the company, they w ill take it.

The crew maintain this is due to the relatively short range of their tanks punisher gatling cannon, a w ell-oiled reaper of lives that has taken a great toll on the Emperors enemies over the years they claim that unless they get stuck in early, there w ont be any of the enemy left to kill. Threska has alw ays believed in leading by example and his venerable tank perfectly encapsulates his merciless style of w arfare.

During the Ironcore World Offensive, Pride of Cadia tallied a dozen confirmed armour kills during the opening hour of combat alone. Its machine spirit requires constant soothing and it has a habit of shutting dow n during training exercises. That such a cantankerous machine has found its w ay into one of Cadias most prestigious tank companies is due only to its impressive w arrior spirit, for w hen battle is joined Old Indomitable w ill rush forw ard to engage foes bigger than itself, often slaying them outright w ith its demolisher cannon.

The grand banner of the Steel Host flutters above the tank in the regiment that has scored the most vehicle kills in the previous engagement.

This tradition ensures much friendly competition, and occasional heroism, from the tankers of the Steel Host. The tanks of this honoured squadron have served since the 1 nds founding; the scars and honours etched into their hulls can be read as a history of the regiment itself. Competition for a place as a Thunderhead crew man is justifiably fierce, and only tankers w ho have earned the V aledicto Imperialis are even considered for this distinguished duty.

Sky -reapers attachment to the 1 nd w as in direct response to the famed regiments losses to Ork aircraft on Orgaths World. Whilst some of the Steel Hosts more veteran tank crew s see Sky -reapers deployment as a constant reminder of their defeat, even these critics have reason to be grateful of its presence w hen enemy bombers are patrolling the skies.

As m illions of Ork inv aders spilled from their rust-ships, it becam e obv ious that only by isolating and destroy ing each elem ent of the x enos arm y could the Im perium hope for v ictory. Castellan Stein knew his Tactica Imperialis well. The war doctrine of that ancient tome teaches that where the enemy comes on in a great horde, it is best to meet them at a narrow point, so that their numbers cannot be brought to bear.

The large numbers of rust-ships and the wide open plains of Alaric Prime had robbed him of such a strategy , so Stein had planned to rebuff the Ork attack from a defended position instead, attempting to blunt its momentum with a wall of lasfire. Once one rust-ships horde had been neutralised, he intended to retreat to Boiling Riv er and use its great bridges as killing fields to deal with the nex t rust-ships swarm.

If all went well, they would roll out their mobile defence across the continent, fighting a running battle where the Orks would struggle to bring their numbers to bear. Things had gone worse than badly during the initial engagement, howev er. The calamitous ev ents that unfolded amongst the Imperial lines had allowed more Orks to muster south of Sacred Mountain. Now the horizon was black with x enos marauders, stomping and shouting with boundless battlelust.

Recon Sentinels had reported back that many of the greenskins were engaged in salv age operations, hauling not only their own wreckage back to the rust-ships but also that of the fallen Knights. What had become of the pilots Stein didnt like to think. Lowering his magnoculars, the castellan shook his head in disappointment. The Ork attack had been slowed, but not sty mied in the least.

Greenskins still boiled out of the hull of the titanic craft, and to its leeward side another thousands-strong horde had amassed. Ev en now the greenskin throng flowed towards them, merging with the salv agers on the windward side to come on in a great mass. The scale of the Ork inv asion was becoming horribly clear. Stein made a quick mental calculation. If each one of the rust-ships fighting through the flakstorm in low orbit held a similar number of x enos warriors as those already planetside, Alaric Prime would be lost in less than a week.

With an effort of will the Cadian officer returned his thoughts to the task at hand. There was an ex termination to be conducted, and with Boiling Riv er as their ally , a great toll could be taken on the approaching horde. As the castellans command tank sent v ox -codes to the battle tanks and artillery of the Cadian 1 nd and 1 rd, his infantry quickly and efficiently formed up into the formation his men called Steins Anv il.

Platoon after platoon took up position on the banks of the riv er, heav y weapons braced and ammunition piled high. If reports from Steins V alky ries were accurate, the poor coordination of the Ork inv asion still afforded them a chance to suppress it section by section.

The remainder of Grukks forces planetside could be held and perhaps ev en broken on the banks of Boiling Riv er before the warriors from the easternmost rust-ships made their way northwards to cut off the Cadian escape route. Such a military feat would require impeccable discipline and perfect timing. Stein smiled thinly to himself; those were qualities that ev ery man in the Cadian 1 st possessed in great measure.

He had seen to it himself. As the Cadians made their final preparations on the banks of Boiling Riv er, the v ox -net crackled intermittently with nautical shanty -signs.

To Steins mind, they could hav e come from only one source. It looked like Warboss Grukk was about to get a surprise of his own. From his tanks cupola, Silas Ovik w atched the Orks charge tow ard the bridges and into the teeth of his squadrons overlapping fields of fire.

A veteran of many tank battles against the Orks, he recognised the distinctive black-andw hite chequer patterns of their forw ard elements. Goffs, they called themselves, or something like it. While the beasts displayed no great w it or tactics, Ovik knew all too w ell how unstoppable they could be on the charge. The Goffs liked to fight as an avalanche of green-skinned muscle, iron-shod boots and horned helms against w hich few foes could stand for long.

Ovik had seen more than one Imperial position overrun by the Orks, the brutes leaping over their dead to get at the enemy. As they charged tow ards Steins defence lines, the Goffs chanted and yelled, their voices joining to become a deep rumble. The chant mixed w ith the hammering of their boots and filled the air w ith a w all of menacing sound. No matter how many times he heard it, the sound w as enough to give Silas Ovik pause.

Better get to it, he thought, closing the cupola and draw ing a bead on the forefront of the onrushing xenos horde.

Heav y munitions rained death into the massed horde stomping its way towards the riv erbanks. Manticores fired high-ex plosiv e rockets in soaring arcs, Wy v erns. The din of the rolling barrage was immense. From Steins v antage point it looked as if the gods themselv es were lev elling their hatred at the x enos throng. Just as the castellan had anticipated, the Ork masses ran forward rather than falling back, hoping to close within the reach of the Imperial Guard artillery.

It was a brav e strategy , but ultimately a foolish one. A flotilla of ramshackle Ork v ehicles hov e into sight, the dust trails of their passage marking them clear as day. One by one, they found themselv es under pinpoint fire from the platoons that occupied the bastions bey ond the riv er, and one by one, they blossomed into flame.

Sanctus Reach - Supplement - The Red Waaagh | Tanks | Unrest

Wherev er a mob of Orks grew close to the banks of Boiling Riv er, a hundred lasguns would spike out into their ranks until the Orks had to climb ov er the corpses of their comrades to adv ance. Stein nodded appreciativ ely as his platoons went about their bloody work. The signals ringing out across the v ox -net were coming in so fast it was difficult to keep track. The Cadians stationed at Bridge Zeta Sec had fired their own artillery barrages into the ironclad Ork army inbound on their position, but with far less effect their detonations had been all but nullified by crackling force fields that protected the Orks from harm.

The riv erside platoons were culling Orks at a gratify ing rate, but the tide of inv aders would not be stemmed for much longer. It was time for phase two of Steins battle plan to swing into place. As the Ork footsoldiers pounded towards the bridges, a trio of Chimera armoured transports hurtled up the ramps of both the Zeta Sec and Zeta Tert bridges.

The v ehicles formed a wall of steel, multilasers blazing. They had barely stopped mov ing before squads of Ogry ns debarked from inside and lumbered past them, each abhuman warrior hefting a slabshield as the Orks fusillade thickened. Crude bullets hammered away at the shieldwall to no real effect. Hurled stikkbombs left the warriors unfazed, their thick armour plates absorbing each blast. Rotund x enos bomber-beasts bounded towards them, fuses hissing on their backs.

The great Ogry ns merely toe-punted the beasts into the riv er, pillars of murky water erupting wherev er they detonated. Amongst the bastions on the east side of Bridge Zeta Tert, Castellan Stein watched the ex ertions of his abhumans with no small measure of pride. The Ogry n counter-attack could buy them all the time they needed. Commissar Palev screamed at the Bullgryn squad to hold the line as the first Orks slammed into their shields.

Palev could almost feel the air tremble as the great abhumans strained their muscles to hold back the greenskins. As the Orks pressed forw ard, their choppas, boots and fists hammered into the slabshields. The Ogryns pushed back, bracing their heavy feet and gradually forcing the green tide back.

In isolated places Palev saw an Ork tumble over the shield w all, though these w ere quickly beaten to the ground under battle mauls and heavy feet. Even w hen the roaring Ork horde w as more than a dozen deep against them, still the Ogryns stood their ground. They w ere a w all of steel, muscle and grit through w hich no mere mob of Boyz could hope to pass. T he Astra Militarum took a stand at Bridges Zeta Sec and Zeta T ert, hoping to engage the num berless throng across as narrow a frontage as possible.

The Ork v anguard, in their eagerness for war, plunged bodily into the riv er and attempted to swim across. They soon found out why the people of Alaric Prime called it Boiling Riv er the sulphurous v ents that bubbled on the riv erbed made sections of the watercourse hiss with simmering, tox ic fumes. To the amazement of the Cadians stationed on the riv erbank, the greenskins kept on coming where a human would hav e been boiled aliv e.

Across the wide watercourse, the Orks spilt into the water like a stampeding herd of beasts, thrashing their great ape-like arms as they slowly propelled themselv es through the bubbling liquid.

Though the tox icity of the waters killed only a small portion of the Orks, it slowed the rest enough to make their deaths all but certain. Thousands of ruby -red lasbeams burned the air as the platoons stationed on the riv erbanks ignored the egg-stink of the riv ers sulphur fumes and opened fire with well-drilled precision.

Before long the water was filled with smouldering greenskin corpses that bumped together as they floated towards the y awning mouth of the Great Estuary. Then Grukk himself reached the fight. With his war effigy reduced to a scrap metal fortress by Gaulemort V elemestrin, the Warboss had trundled to the front line in a massiv e horned wagon emblazoned with a giant white bulls head.

The v ehicle was the target of flurries of missiles and laser blasts from the Cadians manning the other side of the riv er, but despite dozens of armour plates being blasted from its chassis, the thing kept coming. It thumped bodily ov er the tank traps at the end of the bridge before its metal maw clanged open, disgorging a posse of massiv e Orks.

The red waaagh sanctus pdf reach

At their head was Grukk himself, his power claw rev v ing and his v oice raised in a bestial roar while his massiv e attack squig drooled human blood from between mantrap jaws. Stein and the rest of the Cadian high command muttered darkly at this new dev elopment, reassigning their V alky rie and V endetta air support to intercept the x enos commander before he could reach the Cadian line.

In the distance, lights winked and columns of jet-flame lit the night as the heav y aircraft of the Militarum Tempestus regiments lifted off from the Sky shield nex us, Taurox APCs tracking in their wake. They were only a few miles distant, stationed between bridges Zeta Sec and Zeta Tert, but the Warboss was faster.

Smashing luckless underlings from his path, he stormed across the span of the bridge through a blinding net of lasfire, head lowered like a charging bull-grox. The Ogry ns upon the bridge set their slabshields and prepared for the Ork elites impact, but Grukk had built up a cannonball momentum. He hit the Ogry ns line with such force the massiv e abhumans were bowled bodily to the ground. The Warboss started to lash out with his massiv e power klaw, not sawing and crushing as he had against the Imperial Knights a few hours before, but using it as a giant metal club to bludgeon the reeling Ogry ns to mush.

Bonehead Grunkt, the sergeant of the Bullgry n squad, raised his power maul in both hands and took a swing at Grukks head that would hav e decapitated a Space Marine. Grukk stepped backwards at the critical moment before launching forward to shoulder-barge Grunkt ov er the side of the bridge. The Ogry ns bellowing faded as Boiling Riv er pulled him deep below. The Ogry ns were reinforced by another two Bullgry n squads just as Grukks body guard hit home. Each Nob was clad in the heav iest armour their Meks could prov ide.

An untidy brawl that was more wrestling match than melee spilled across the bridge. The V alky ries and V endettas that had scrambled from the nearby Sky shield nex us passed ov erhead, but with their abhuman comrades mingled amongst the Ork Meganobs, decent firing solutions were all but impossible. Behind the Ork elite came a roaring flood of Ork warriors that stamped and chanted, the air all but set alight by their rav ening battlelust.

Blasts of fizzing green energy arced up into the skies from strangely -dressed shamans in their midst, two of them finding the V endettas that roared ov erhead, striking their engines and sending them spinning out of control.

The Cadians stationed on the other side of the bridge focused their fire and made ev ery v olley count, killing hundreds of Orks and forcing those behind to scramble ov er the corpses of their comrades. They might as well hav e been throwing rocks against the waters of a burst dam. The green tide broke ov er the mauling Meganobs and Ogry ns in the centre of the bridge and poured past, Grukk and his body guard all but hidden from sight as the Orks hurdled and leaped for the other side of the bridge.

Lasfire spat, and with each passing second a dozen more Orks died. It was not enough. Gholo V elemestrin w atched as the Orks tried to cross Boiling River, cramming onto the bridges or leaping into the w ater.

Through the magnification plates on the canopy of his Knight he could see the battle for the bridges slow ly unfolding below him. The Noble smiled grimly as he w atched the aliens thrash and burn in the sulphurous w ater of the river, remembering the old tales of the blood of the mountain and the toxic fires w hich burned still beneath its roots. One such tale told of how Boiling River had been know n by another name, now lost to the march of time, but that it had turned toxic overnight w hen off-w orld invaders had sought to plunder the mountain.

Some had mumbled that it w as merely coincidence that the river had turned toxic that night, a deep fissure opened by a chance earthquake releasing virulent chemicals from deep below ; cutting the raiders off from their vessel and cooking those that dared to cross. Gholo knew better. As he w atched the Orks skin burn and bleach, he knew that he w as w atching the vengeance of. Castellan Stein had predicted this ev entuality ; ev en ex pected it.

Platoon by platoon, the Cadians began to withdraw, their pace measured as they mov ed to new predetermined positions without talking or slowing their rate of fire. Such was their precision and training that each soldier emptied his las-clip at the same time as the rest of his squad, kneeling to reload just as the squad behind them took up the slack.

The Orks boiled from the bridge in a scrambling heap, many of their number as much dead as aliv e as the horde fell ov er itself in their haste to reach close quarters. Some of them succeeded, tearing into the withdrawing Cadians with such force that the Guardsmen could not escape. Choppas rose and fell, limbs were hacked from bodies and heads cut in half as the frenzied v iolence of the Waaagh!

Wherev er a Cadian platoon fell, the triumphant Orks looked up from their bloody work only to realise they were ex posed in a clear killing field. Heav y weapon platoons deploy ed at the rear of the Guard line hammered mass-reactiv e bolts and lascannon fire into the blood-cov ered marauders. Ork bodies shuddered and were ripped apart as the Guardsmen av enged their comrades with grim efficiency. Each time an Ork mob reached the Cadian line it would quickly find itself in no mans land.

Moments later it would be ripped apart by the counterfire of nearby support platoons. Steins trap had been set well, and its jaws were claiming x enos liv es by the hundred.

If any of you so much as think about firing before I give the order, you just volunteered for permanent rearguard and latrine duty to boot. We are the best soldiers in the Imperium, and the honour of Cadia rests on your shoulders. The God-Emperor himself is w atching, so dont you dare fire, not before you see the points of their teeth. But w hen you do, let them have all hell! At that m om ent, though, the Orks tribal sham ans entered the fight. Mom ents later, m ay hem reigned as the Ork inv aders appeared from nowhere, falling upon the rear of Castellan Steins lines and rev ersing the flow of the battle with one swift blow.

Steins carefully positioned crumple zones had blunted the Ork adv ance at Zeta Tert and Zeta Sec alike. The Bullgry n squads had ultimately fallen to Grukks onslaught, and the number of Orks charging across the bridges had prov en practically endless. Still, the sheer discipline of the Cadian platoons had seen their ordered retreat tactics triumph again and again. As the Orks bottlenecked themselv es on the far side of the riv er, the artillery companies of the 1 rd sent barrage after barrage hammering into the mass of green flesh, each blast taking a great chunk out of the horde.

Stein nodded. So far, for ev ery one of his men that had fallen, fifty , perhaps six ty Orks were littering the bridgeheads as corpses. Then came something the Cadian high command had not predicted.

Pinpricks of green light skidded and fizzed across the plains behind the Imperial Guard lines before blooming into shimmering hemispheres the size of hab-domes. The bubbles burst with audible pops to ex pose mob after mob of Orks, cov ered in blue warpaint and stomping their feet in unison as they chanted Ere we go ov er and ov er again.

The artillery squadrons gazed in shocked awe at the frothing warriors that had materialised only a few hundred feet from them, the x enos psy kers in their midst still glowing with faint green light.

Desultory lasgun fire took down a handful of the newcomers, but it was of no use. The Orks swarmed amongst the static artillery , clambering ov er tracks and backplates to catch the panicking gunmen desperately try ing to escape.

It was hopeless. In a matter of minutes the Basilisk and Wy v ern positions were ov errun.

Stein frowned as the v ox reports from his artillery went silent, and commanded his air support to come back around. Less than a minute later, Tempestor Prime Whitlocks V alky ries and V endettas were inbound again, lascannons picking off Orks here and there with each pass.

The Orks were all ov er the artillery batteries; ev en heav y bolter fire had little effect on them. Alarmingly , the barrel of each Basilisk had been raised to max imum elev ation. Many of the captured Basilisks lurched into one another with screeches of metal or turned slowly on the spot, but for the most part, they opened fire.

There came a staccato series of booms as the artillery pieces looted by the blue-painted Ork raiders hammered their pay loads into the skies. Up the earthshaker shells went, each tracing the steepest of parabolas in the air before falling back down into the ranks of the withdrawing Cadian platoons below. The sheer v iolence of the sudden barrage destroy ed all cohesion in the Cadian retreat.

Each round killed a dozen or more of the tightly -packed soldiery slowly retreating from the front line. With the Guardsmen on the riv erbanks occupied by the sudden heav y fire, the Orks that had swum across Boiling Riv er were free to clamber up the banks, blades held between their snaggletoothed jaws.

Within minutes the entire battleline was engulfed in v iolence. The ordered, disciplined Cadian withdrawal was fast becoming a total rout. Stein was barking orders into his v ox , desperate to restore the tatters of his battle plan and secure the planned retreat to the flanks of Sacred Mountain, when his Astropath, Zeil, approached him. Apprehension was etched upon the my stics ey eless face. Stein motioned for his men to be silent as Zeil stuttered his report. Two more Ork hordes had made planetfall to the southeast.

He could feel a dull, threatening roar in the back of his mind that told him the sav age armies were mov ing in to cut off their line of escape. The v ox -net crackled with shouts and screams as the Ork assault redoubled in intensity. Castellan Stein was cursing furiously when there came a clear and welcome drawl ov er the comms channel, calm and measured and heav y with the weight of y ears.

This is Lord Neru Degallio, requesting permission to join the festiv ities. Bloody well get on with it then! Less than a minute later, the ground shook with such v iolence that the entire Cadian high command were almost pitched from their feet. All ey es turned south to see that the horizon had sprouted a profusion of towers and hiv e-spires. In the far distance, a looming cliff of metal ground towards the forces at Zeta Tert, its sheer mass forcing the ground to shudder in rev ulsion. Isle Degallio slammed bodily into the mouth of the Great Estuary.

It clogged the kilometer-wide watercourse like a cork sealing a bottle. Giant ramps, each easily as large as the riv er bridges the Ork inv aders were now charging across, slammed down onto the mainland.

Across their spans marched dozens, scores ev en, of Imperial Knights. The giant walkers adv anced at a loping run that filled the horizon with dull red dust, splitting up into four sub-houses as they came. Two of the Knight lances took the west bank, mov ing in to bombard the thickening bottleneck of Orks attempting to cross at Zeta Tert. The other two groups headed east at speed, mov ing on an intercept course to cut off the Ork hordes that Zeil had detected to the south east.

The dull thump of distant ex plosions echoed across the plains as the Knights blasted the leading v ehicles at the head of each horde to scrap metal. Stein breathed a heav y sigh of relief, thanking the Emperor for a moment before shouting out clipped instructions to each of his subsidiary commands.

The orders were relay ed through the ranks in tones that brooked no argument. Slowly , painstakingly , and at a great cost in liv es, the Cadian echelons re-established order.

Militarum Tempestus regiments. Activ ating their grav -chutes, the descending warriors scy thed down the Orks milling around the artillery batteries with pinpoint hot-shot lasgun fire, killing ev ery last one of the x enos before their boots ev en touched the ground.

Squad by squad, the Cadians mounted up into their Taurox and Chimera transports and began their retreat in earnest. Cannon turrets piv oted backward to fire a stream of las and solid shot into the horde as it milled and swirled behind them, the x enos shouting obscenities in their wake.

Sergeant Dain Halban spat into the dirt and ejected the smoking spent clip from his lasgun. He yelled at his squad to continue their measured retreat from the river as the men behind them laid dow n a rhythmic pattern of lasgun fire that scythed into the advancing Orks.

Artillery rounds w ere hammering into their packed ranks as the xenos pressed close together to cross the bridges. Dain allow ed himself a cruel smile as geysers of dirt and broken Ork bodies w ere hurled into the sky w herever a shell struck home. With clear orders and years of training, his men w ere stoic in the face of the foe.

Sanctus Reach the Red Waaagh

Every man and w oman fired in w elldisciplined ranks, not a single lasblast missing its target. Dain w as about to order another w ave to fall back in good order w hen abruptly the artillery fell silent. For a moment amid the din of battle the sergeant w as unsure of himself, perplexed as to w hy Stein w ould silence the guns w ith the Orks still pressing forw ard on all fronts. The next sound he heard w as unmistakable, a descending w histle that every veteran knew to fear.

He screamed out a w arning only a fraction of a second before the first shell fell among the company. In an instant the neat firing line and ordered retreat of Dains platoon w as shattered, and it w as the Orks turn to yell and jeer as the Cadians ow n artillery w as turned against them.

For a few brief, chaotic moments, Dain tried to rally his men, reorder the lines and continue the fighting w ithdraw al, but all order w as sw ept aw ay by a barrage of shells, falling at random all along the Cadian line. At first only a few men turned and ran, panic distorting their faces as they fled, but in the space of less than a minute the fragile Cadian formation collapsed completely.

The retreat sw iftly became a rout. As Orks pressed forw ard w ithout the suppressing fire from the Cadians to slow their advance, the rear elements of the company became embroiled in a messy melee. Overrun by a snarling green tide, the defenders of Alaric w ere falling to crude blades and sheer brute force. Determined to die facing the enemy, Dain turned and emptied his clip in a hail of lasfire.

With the Ork attackers almost upon him, Dain braced for death, bayonet raised, but w as throw n to the ground by the shockw ave of a battle cannon shell detonating. Deafened and gasping in the dirt, Dain looked up in aw e. An Imperial Knight stepped over him, blotting out the light of the stars for a moment. The great w ar machine thundered into the Orks, engines roaring like some primeval predator ready to feed.

As Lord Degallio m ade his presence felt, the struggle for Boiling Riv er was rejoined with renewed ferv our. The Alabaster Lancers of Lord Neru Degallio, at full strength and with ammunition to spare, chanted the joy ous battle hy mns of their ancient order as they bore down upon the Ork inv aders. They hit Grukks bottlenecked column at Zeta Tert like a chev aliers spear plunging into the neck of a terrible green wy rm.

Thermal cannons reduced Orks to superheated mist and rapid-firing battle cannons tore gouges out of the packed ranks just as the Cadian 1 rd artillery had done before. The death toll quickly mounted. Lord Degallio himself led a squadron of his finest Knights to the far end of the bridge, ion shields reconfigured so they crackled between his warriors and the missiles that corkscrewed crazily from the horde in their direction. With a series of pinpoint blasts from their thermal cannons, the lancers melted through the stout girders and stanchions that raised the bridge abov e the boiling waters.

Their plan was sound to strand the Orks of the first rust-ship on one side of the Great Estuary to allow their Cadian allies to escape but the bridge had withstood the passage of millennia, and it would not fall easily. Worse still, the massiv e forms of Grukk and his Meganobz were bully ing their way through the horde toward them at speed. Lord Degallios Knight suit, the White Warden, stamped its way into the throng.

Crouching low with a hiss of hy draulics, the Knights reaper chainsword whirred in a horizontal arc only a few feet from the ground. Dozens of Orks were chewed into red ruin as the Wardens arm ground on, but Degallios true target was not the greenskins.

At the fullest ex tent of the arc, the Wardens chainsword carv ed right into the central stanchion that held the bridge firm, screaming in ex ertion as its titanium teeth juddered through the heart of the bridge. Focused heav y stubber fire from Degallios escort brought down any Orks that got too close to their lord, holding them back for a few v ital seconds.

With a great metallic scream, Degallio pushed the barrel of his Knights battle cannon under the ruined bridge nex t to its chainsword and discharged a point-blank blast. Slowly , miraculously , the White Warden lifted the splintering end of Bridge Zeta Tert like an ancient Alarican demigod performing a my thical feat of strength. Rubble cascaded down, crushing the Orks that were pushed into the gap as hundreds of their tribe-mates fought to get within striking range of the great iv ory walker.

With a tremendous crack of stone, the bridge toppled to the right, a full half of its length falling away into the sulphurous waters of Boiling Riv er. Hundreds of Orks fell with it. Grukk and his heav ily -armoured retinue, only a few metres from bringing their power klaws lev el with the White Wardens helm, staggered sideway s for a moment before pitching into the depths with a great splash.

The Ork horde gav e a monstrous bellow of rage and frustration. Bridge Zeta Tert, which had stood firm in the face of thousands of y ears of erosion and the hammer blows of Imperial artillery alike, had been destroy ed. Lumbering, smoking war machines closed in on the Degallio Knights, their crude cannons sending fat-bodied shells hurtling towards the escort that protected Lord Neru as he collapsed the bridge.

With the Degallio body guard focussed on keeping the Ork footsoldiers from swamping their master, a few of the approaching Ork walkers scored direct hits on the brightly -accoutred Knights, dropping them to their knees or, in the case of Sire Betel Degallio, detonating their target spectacularly as the walkers reactor went critical.

With the bridge collapsed and a new threat fast approaching, Lord Neru ordered his Knights to rally in the watercourse of Boiling Riv er itself. The Knights carefully stepped backwards into the shallows of the riv er, a feat of agility that the Ork walkers would find impossible to emulate.

Nav y -pattern ion shields were brought up in formation to form a crackling shield of energy that flared bright ev ery few seconds as Ork shells struck home. It was then that the x enos walkers came into v iew through the dust and confusion of battle. Squat Orkoid effigies ground forward on piston-driv en legs, looking for all the world as if Grukks own war machine had spawned a brood of metal monsters and sent them to finish what it had started. Solid-shot cannons of ex treme size hung like muscular arms from each of the humanoid walkers, thundering an impressiv e v olume of firepower into the Degallio ranks.

The Alabaster Lancers ion shields deflected or detonated the majority of the shot, but here and there a shell snuck through, detonating on an armoured thigh or ripping open a heraldic carapace. Lord Neru quickly surv ey ed the situation from the cov er of the ruined bridge.

There were dozens of the damned things heading. Worse still, the Knights were taking heav y fire from the Orks that had been fighting the Cadians on the other side of the riv er. With two massiv e Ork armies hav ing no foe to v ent their fury upon other than the Degallios, Lord Nerus options were narrowing fast.

He ordered his lance to break formation and stride downriv er as fast as possible in box formation, the ion shields of the outly ing Knights to either side and those of the rearmost Knights protecting their backs as they made all speed toward Isle Degallio. Along the banks of the riv er, the footslogging Ork horde did their best to keep pace, but the Knights were masters of their war engines and still had plenty of power left to burn.

They v eered and swerv ed as they fired wildly inaccurate v olley s at Lord Nerus lancers. The v ehicles pursued the splashing, stomping Knights for kilometre after kilometre, their crew whooping and making foul gestures as they zoomed along the riv erbank.

Swarms of buzzing coptercraft hurtled up the watercourse, guns blazing as they darted past like giant mosquitos harry ing their cumbersome prey. For the Knights to turn and fight would be to allow the pursuing hordes a chance to catch up, and that could not be allowed. Lord Neru gritted his teeth as Sire Tetherine Degallios Knight went down into the water, its leg blasted from its hip by a lucky rokkit shot. His Knights were so close now he could almost imagine the kiss of the sea on his face.

Any moment now the Orks would learn a painful lesson. Suddenly , there it was a distant crack-boom that was swiftly followed by a v ast column of water shooting upward at their flank, which consumed a trio of Deffkoptas that were whirring past the retreating Knights.

A moment later the riv erbank ex ploded into fire as detonations stitched their way through the x enos pursuit with merciless, relentless force. Scrap pinged and scy thed through the air, bouncing off Knight carapaces and thudding into the dust as the Ork v ehicles were reduced to shards of glowing shrapnel. Isle Degallio itself had joined the fight, its long-guns in range and accurate enough to hammer the Ork forces without endangering their own warriors.

With the immense firepower of the iron island brought to bear, the few surv iv ing Ork v ehicles howled off into the wilderness, looking for less ferocious prey. Warhorns blaring, Lord Neru Degallios Knights marched the last few hundred metres to their fortress, a v ast hangar bay opening in the islands guts as they drew near. The battle of the bridge was ov er, and with it, the momentum of Grukks assault blunted. Each has fought on a dozen worlds, and their rusted hulls are spattered with the rem ains of a wide v ariety of alien species as well as the blood of countless Im perial troops.

Drogg survived, albeit barely. Ave Imperador. A thick. The Ork hordes were within sight. We have a… distinguished visitor with us.

Reach waaagh sanctus pdf red the

Stein could hear the roar of the approaching Waaagh! Then a horrible suspicion dawned. Turning back to his unit.

The creature was a Knight. Will relay to Houses Brahmica and Velemestrin forthwith. Imperador Vidas. Lord Viashtu and the rest of House Brahmica marched into view.

The interference caused by the mountain was not helping. A screaming crackle came over the vox before Kavel tuned it in. Dust clouds dotted the horizon. Stein had his vox officer send his clarion-sign for what felt like the fiftieth time. Whatever was inside that forbidding peak had an electromagnetic signature to rival an Ark Mechanicus. Lord Stein. Stein moved up to interrogate the new arrival.. With them were the Knights of House Velemestrin and.

The volume of heavy firepower that was pouring from the Cadian firing line had ensured not a single Ork had made it to within rifle range. Fat-tyred Ork buggies bounced along the mountain pathways. Textbook stuff. The cloud of dust below was coming closer. Stein could hear shouts of encouragement and applause from the other Alarican nobles drifting over the vox-net.

A knot of teleporting Meganobz materialised beneath him just in time for him to land with both feet. As Stein watched. Another two Ork fighter planes were punched from the skies by Hydra fire. A moment later the rumble of explosions reached them. Orks by the dozen shimmered and hissed into being wherever the bubbles burst. This should be a total slaughter. Ork fighter jets sailed through the skies towards their position. The Ork charge fragmented. His message was relayed up and down the line with practiced efficiency.

Even with the unpredictable heroics of the Knights. A trio of the bladed mini-copters the Orks used as outriders swept low. Baneblades and Stormhammers added their voices to the infernal din. Soon the platoons added their heavy weapons fire to the fusillade. Gerantius launched itself off a boulder and bodily smashed two of them out of the sky whilst its pivoting heavy stubber brought down the third.

He crushed most of them in an explosion of loose stone before vaporising the rest with a close-range blast from his thermal cannon. The Cadians had dug in across the fortified slopes of the mountain with overlapping fields of fire that reminded the castellan of the Kasrs back home. Stein spun on his heel to watch the volley of shells arc through the air to their vanishing point. Lasguns bristled from behind every escarpment and battlement.

The Orks below accelerated. Such was the presence the ancient Knight carried with him that it filled the Nobles with terrible and final purpose. Every one of them had grown up hearing tales of the legendary Knight. Gerantius exterminates the viridian troglodytes that infest the dank tunnels beneath Sacred Mountain. Without him the priceless secrets of Sacred Mountain — and perhaps Alaric Prime itself — would have been lost long ago.

Some islands believe Gerantius is a giant cast in iron. Though the legend of a cyclopean guardian possessed of uncanny prescience is common to all the islands of Alaric Prime. Gerantius stalks out of Sacred Mountain when a botched ritual in Castle Veric results in a daemonic infestation.

He decrees that Exterminatus is the only answer. Despite their theories. He kills their hulking. They arrive several millennia too late.

The Imperial Guard instead wage war upon the incarcerated masses of the Alarican prison isles. Without warning. Barely a handful of the vicious xenos warriors make it through the storm of thermal cannon fire that greets their arrival.

Gerantius leads the defence of Sacred Mountain before hunting down and destroying enough of the invaders to drive the rest off-planet. Though none will ever know. The intervention of Gerantius complicates matters just as the Alarican knightly houses are trying to prove their loyalty to the Imperium. He kills over six thousand ambulls before retreating to Sacred Mountain. Gerantius emerges once more and begins to hunt the lumbering claw-beasts one by one.

War breaks out. Gerantius appears on the far side of Alaric Prime and douses a remote monastery in purifying flame. Unbeknownst to them. When a scattering of Tyranid vanguard organisms make their way onto Alaric Prime. The Orks invade Alaric Prime in force. Gerantius hunts the Lictors and Genestealers down until all have been exterminated.

The death toll still numbers in the thousands. As the mountain slopes became littered with smouldering corpses. Grukk himself entered the fray. Grukk was hurled from his feet as the grenades struck home. On cue. In response.

Waves of dismay rippled through the Orks at the base of the mountain. The ground shook as a trio of gaudily-painted Ork wagons grumbled up the slope below the Cadian lines. Stein raised his plasma pistol and fired. Thermal cannons screamed as the Battlewagons trundled into range. The spectacular felling of the Ork Warboss had been so explosive and.

The massive vehicle skidded down the slope for a few metres before grinding to a halt. Gerantius changed direction and barged sidelong into the Ork wagon.

Krak missiles and lascannon blasts blew away plates of ablative armour. Grukk stumbled towards them. A hulking figure was amongst them. For Cadia and the Emperor. A moment later. Stein gestured with his arms to the nobles of House Velemestrin and Brahmica. With the rout of the Ork front line. While the battle raged on the slopes of Sacred Mountain. The Guardsmen still holding positions on the same side of Boiling River gave a ragged cheer as the Knight crashed through the thinned Ork lines and bodily smashed its way inside the hulking rust-ship.

Having broken like a wave against the tidal bastion of Sacred Mountain. Dyros cleared the chamber and set about searching the wrecks for the living. With a withering hail of fire from his heavy stubbers. Castellan Stein and his men watched the Ork horde erupt into a series of scuffles.

Those retreating hampered those who tried to advance. It could hardly have been a more target-rich environment for the Cadian artillery stationed high on the slopes. A hailstorm of ordnance rained down and greenskinned limbs were blasted high into the air as Imperial Guard Basilisks and Wyverns walked their deadly barrages through the horde. The Freeblade Dyros Kamata had returned. Robbed of their great leader. Running down the slopes.

The battle had turned into a massacre. Over the hiss of burners and the whine of saws. Lasfire lit the slopes and bayonets flashed bright. He smiled wide. Few of them reached the resultant combat. With the death of Grukk. Distracted by the events on the mountain. Mogrok twisted the aerials on his telly-scope. Big Mek Mogrok oversaw the vanguard advance from atop a requisitioned Morkanaut. Only a fool would have challenged his right to lead right then. To his credit. Even a snotling could see that.

His bullish temper had got him good and boiled at the battle for the bridges. There was that pansy flag. Sure enough. After the kicking Grukk had taken at the bridges. The green humie walker nearby had other ideas. With each bombardment and Militarum Tempestus assault they forced more and more ground in between the Ork clans and tribes. Same old Grukk. In the battle for ultimate leadership that ensued. The dumb brute was heading into a humie trap.

The Big Mek had a feeling that day would be today. Idly picking his nose. Mogrok mused. Castellan Stein believed that. I was wrong. At this sight. The big green walker drew back a foot. There were several main contenders dotted across the planet. He loves nothing more than showing off his collection of looted wagons in battle by levelling a storm of crude but effective firepower at the foe.

A shortage of blue pigment saw him fight without his warpaint upon Obstiria. Wingnutz has amassed a ramshackle fleet of looted and kustomised aircraft that follow in his wake. Wingnutz had a near-religious experience upon the hive world of Ghul Jensen when he first piloted a Dakkajet. An itinerant peddler with an eye for a crooked deal. Bogrot rides his pet Squiggoth at the head of a massive scrap caravan that boasts more Orky artillery than the rest of the tribes put together. Most of the time.

A former first mate of Badrukk himself. His lads like to boast their boss never fires the same gun twice. Gashrakk has an unusual compulsion to own the shiniest. After all. Gashrakk is a serious force to be reckoned with. Battle plans are carefully prepared to ensure maximum showyness.

His warband boasts dozens of Flash Gitz. Artillery galore. Despite — or perhaps because of — his obsessive need to show off. Big Redd vomits green lightning at any who challenge him. Taller than a full-grown Goff Nob. Having escaped the slaughter of Boiling River and Sacred Mountain.

He was the kind of Ork who would rather build a giant war engine covered in dakkaguns than run towards the foe pellmell. Grukk secured victory. Whilst the other clans and tribes fought amongst themselves.

Mogrok had been the power behind the throne for quite some time. It was Mogrok who was behind the creation of the deadly Gorkanauts that engaged the Imperial Knights at Boiling River. Luckily the Knights of the planet proved up to the task. Big Mek Mogrok was a know-it-all git through and through. It was Mogrok that pioneered the force fields that allowed an armada of rust-ships to blast their way through the Warp rift that led to the Alaric system.

With several billion Orks falling upon a thousand Space Marines in a sudden avalanche of violence. Battlewagons and walkers than he had set off across the plains. Mogrok intentionally steered the Waaagh! Mogrok knew that humies had some weird ideas about who and what was worth protecting. Big Mek Mogrok and his Bad Moons were already enacting their plan to embroil the Imperial forces in the greatest battle Alaric Prime had seen yet.

Though none of the would-be Ork warlords of the Waaagh! No sooner had he marshalled his horde of Mekboyz. Whilst his rival Warbosses were still fighting amongst themselves. This time. Mogrok led his Mek horde towards the massed formations of human infantry making their way across the savannah towards a plateau of crenellated keeps in the distance. The Big Mek grinned toothily as his fizzing telly-scope brought the human army trekking across the plains below into focus. The Space Marines were proof enough of that.

It was exactly the sort of thing that annoyed the Big Mek about these weaklings that had somehow spread across the galaxy — weaklings who deserved to be slaughtered. For some reason. Humie runts. Whereas Gork is most likely to clobber an enemy god in the face. MORK Mork. It is Mork who is revered by the stranger and arguably more intelligent strains of Orks — Kommandos.

Led by Bossnob Skrak. The scrap-skiffs that had borne them to this isolated spot were coming apart. The Big Mek understood what made the Ork race tick. As the Imperial forces were about to find out. Grukk had taken a massive bite out of the Sanctus Reach System. On the rolling Auspice Savannah. Mogrok intended to start a sufficiently large and impressive battle against the human forces to draw the attention of the other Orks.

Stuff to kill. Days later. When Grukk was taken out. Whilst the other tribes were fighting amongst themselves. The methods of his successor. Of course. At a barked command from Fleiss they let fly with every gun they had. Without cover. Running as fast as he could through the fug of dust behind the vehicles. Thousands of tanks and millions of infantry teemed across the plains in loose formation.

Mogrok stifled an evil chuckle. Ork vehicles were flipped end over end with the force of the impact. Again and again. It was not long before the second wave was picked off in its turn. It took some convincing. The advance of the footslogging Ork horde had been completely obscured by the linear junkyard of scrap metal and the clouds of dust and smoke the vehicles had left in their wake.

Krak missiles blasted scrapwagons into bits one after another. Their numbers were bolstered by the primitive steam-dreads of the Kogheads. The mainstay of the Ork army was running like hell towards the humie lines. The humies had taken the bait. Mogrok mustered his lads together. As for those stubborn speed freeks who had opted to disobey Mogrok and stay in their driving seats for the big charge. Sergeant Fleiss was confident that he could cover the Auspice Savannah in Ork corpses before the sun set without the loss of a single Cadian life.

The first wave of vehicles was utterly destroyed. Sergeant Fleiss. When the human troopers saw what was approaching them. First to bash their way through the wall of scrap metal were the Feet of Mork. A massive armoured wedge of Ork vehicles trundled and bounced across the open plains towards the marching Cadians. As the wall of mismatched Ork vehicles came closer and closer. They deployed their heavy weapons and formed up their tank companies with practiced efficiency.

Being a Mek had its advantages when it came to asking favours.

Sanctus Reach - Supplement - The Red Waaagh

The mighty war engines charged the Ork lines time and again. The Imperial Guard held their ground. During the rust-ship invasion. Those footsoldiers exposed to the elements were slain within hours.

Massed lasguns took their toll. Every hour brought some new horror. Mogrok reckoned the armour was probably more of a source of good luck than the blue pigment. Infantry were forced to fight from on board sealed transports. Blinded by the acid wind and rain.

All told. Before the hour was out. Ork wagons and Imperial battle tanks alike cracked and melted under the vitriolic downpour. In their wake came Mogrok himself and the vast mass of iron-armoured Boyz that ran alongside him. What followed was a vicious and bloody battle in which the Cadians.

In the end all that remained was horde after horde of screaming Orks. Danforth screamed his hatred and fired until his guns ran dry. As the cyclone winds howled around him.

All the Boyz need is a shove in the right direction. We come up with war! Orks are the best at scrapping. Port Adamant was the last to be overrun. Sire Danforth. Caught in a storm of rokkits and energy bolts.

The beast looked like some awful deity of the Morkanauts rampaging below. Fixer-grots scurried from hatches that had been exposed by ablative layers that had fallen away. Giant bolts of energy flew from the crackling electrokannon that it had in place of its left arm. Right on cue. Some even hit home in the Imperial ranks below. Smashing down into the rear echelons of the Cadian armies. In the war for Obstiria. As he had instructed. The humming energy weapons that formed their arms ratcheted downwards and discharged great blasts of lightning into the Cadian ranks.

From his vantage in the big scrap at the front line. A shrill whistling sound drifted over the roar of battle for a moment before several massive balls of scrap metal dropped out of the skies.

Mogrok looked up with paternal pride as Gungutz slowly descended into the fight. Dark shadows fell across the savannah as a gigantic rust-ship descended from the clouds above.

Beetle-backed but longlegged. The true purpose of the bombardment only became clear when some of the scrap-hills started to come to life. Battle tanks and transport carriers hammered shells into the rotund monsters that had dropped into the Cadian rearguard.

Fearing the worst. At first the reeling Guardsmen thought that the hillocks of badly-painted metal were intended as blunt projectiles and nothing more. The big engines were dwarfed by Gungutz — that much was obvious.

As the Cadian headquarters barked frantic orders to re-arm and re-engage. Colossal hangar doors opened in the rear of the giant craft. With the help of his Painboy. The Big Mek snorted in derision. As if in answer. The main event was up ahead. The war machines hammered their long-range shells into the seething tide of Orks pouring into the big scrap on the savannah. It missed the incoming Knights by a mile. Not nearly good enough. So much for that idea.

The Big Mek raised his telly-scope to his good eye. During the Red Waaagh!. The Big Mek scanned the skies. Now was the real test. Mogrok gathered together some of his best Big Meks and unleashed them on the defenders of Alaric Prime by the most direct invasion vector he could devise.

His Morkanaut is similarly patchwork. Their god must be puny indeed if these little walkers were embodiments of the Emperor they kept squeaking about.

The humie walkers loped towards Gungutz in groups of three. A double whip-crack echoed across the plain. They peeled off and hurtled downwards at top velocity. Wingnutz himself scored a direct hit. Several careened into the wide carapaces and shoulder-plates of the humie walkers.

Gitfink has taken this to the extreme. A split second later it yanked the cable tight.

And they call themselves Speed Freeks. Some Orks reckon he is a failed experiment to make a Morkanaut think for itself. Up in the skies. As the jets skimmed directly over each of the walkers. Surely the whole point of having your own red Dakkajet was getting stuck in nice and early? Stupid git. The collection of skulls. Such was the din of battle that he barely noticed when the roar of jet engines signalled that Skyboss Wingnutz and his lads had finally made their appearance.

Midgit is rumoured to have been built by Mogrok. As the human walkers stalked forward. Those Knights that were still standing turned and blazed away with the light-bore autoweapons on their carapaces and the much more formidable shell throwers on their arms. The effigy still strode on. It was more than enough to bring the rest of the tribes running. One of the blasts took Gungutz right in the head.

The coordinates were set. This time the chain-bolas worked as Mogrok had intended. The bolas ploughed on across the plains. The battle was going strong. One of the flyboys was tagged and had his wing torn off. There was plenty of work still to be done. Mogrok fought his way clear of the melee around him and clambered atop the ruined shell of a humie tank for a better view. Only a few hundred metres away. The plates should have been in place by now.

At this rate they would have nothing that could stop them from crossing the causeway in time. As Mogrok watched. Mogrok stormed up to the largest. During the assault against the Obsidian Blades Space Marines it was Dagogg who knocked the orbital defence platforms out of the sky by flinging them at each other using his Shokk Amplifier though it promptly broke after this one. Snarling his disappointment. Mogrok shoved the Runtherd over the edge of the cliff and watched him splatter on the rocks below.

Mogrok spat out a string of swear words that would have made a Goff flinch. The metal plate pitched into the sea. The Big Mek could not allow this to happen. There was but one fordable point between the two land masses. As day turned to night and the carnage on the savannah grew to ever more epic heights. With care. They were desperately trying to mount the flat plates of electronic gubbins that Mogrok had entrusted to their Runtherds the previous day.

He stomped on through the confusion. It improved his mood a little. Mogrok could only watch as the Knight aimed its battle cannon straight at him.

Still shaken by his close escape. Dagogg called for his Runtherd mate Grabber to get the snotling mobs nice and close. By the time Mogrok had found Dagogg. The shell detonated on the face of the cliffs nearby. Firing up his shokk attack gun. Mogrok felt the force of the explosion hit him like the hand of Gork.

The Big Mek growled threateningly. In the following ground battle. Then the giant walker put its foot down right on one of the electro-plates the scurrying Gretchin had managed to get into position.

I know. Mogrok squinted across the causeway to see a stream of spasming Snotlings appear in midair some twenty feet from the nearest Knight before tumbling into the booming waves below. A thunderous boom interrupted him as the first of the Knights crossing the causeway took a ranging shot with its cannon. Grabber the Runtherd took his cue. Down on the causeway. He made a mental note to find the Runtherd a nice new electroprod.

It dropped down into the surf as gravity claimed its due. Turn-Based Complexity: Basic, Intermediate Period: Sci-Fi, Fantasy. Trade Marks belong to their respective Owners. All Rights Reserved. Product Info. This is where a brave company of Space Wolves makes its stand to defend the last bastion of mankind in the system…. The gameplay is rich and varied: Units at your disposal have different abilities, strengths and weaknesses, can level up and are carried over between scenarios.

Choose among many different types of weapons, watch your flanks and make a wise use of the terrain: Lead either the Space Wolves Space Marines in the campaign or the green tide of the Orks in skirmish battles!