2003 Toronto Grand Tournament:
I built up an army of Salamanders from the Codex: Armageddon rules, simply because I, a) suck at making armour saves, and b) everyone and their mother claimed that Sallies were the suckiest Marines at the time, due to their rules such as -1I, fall back/pursue 2D6-1, etc...
For the first, (and only), time ever, I'd managed to earn a winning record!
My first game was a massacre vs. an IG army with allied Grey Knights from the (new at the time) Daemonhunters codex, then I proceeded to earn a hard-fought draw in my second game. (should've been a minor victory, but I decided to fail a re-rolled Difficult Terrain check on my Rhino... for the second time that game!
As I was pulling out my army and awaiting my opponent for my 3rd and final game of the first day, low and behold, I look up and standing across the table from me is the reigning UK Staff Champ & studio guest, Phil Kelly with his Ulthwe Eldar army. ('oh shit' is all can manage to say at this point...)
The game scenario has us running about the table, going after 6 markers. Each time a unit comes into contact with a marker, we roll a dice. On a 2-5 it was nothing, on a 6 it was the Objective (whoever holds it at the end wins the game), but on a 1, it was a nasty booby trap! (5" pie-plate/S6/ap- )
The main highlights from this game;
- My Force Commander w/Thunder hammer + Sally Mantle + Iron Halo cracks Phil's Wraithlord across the kneecaps and one-shots it in epic fashion!
He then Sweeping Advances towards the nearby marker... and blows himself up in the most un-epic fashion possible. >.<
- Phil's Wave Serpent full of angry Howling Banshees fails to notice the Multi-melta armed Tactical Marine (cunningly) hiding behind a rock.
A flurry of unlikely 6's wrecks their ride, then my Autocannon/Heavy Bolter Predator (minus the destroyed autocannon), guns down 6 of the Howling Bitches! The two lone survivors leg it for home.
The Multi-melta Marine earns himself a promotion!
The Squad's Sergeant earned himself a dishonourable plasma discharge...
- By the end, the final marker turned out to be the Objective. My Predator rumbled forwards onto it, then tanked a handful of Singing Spears, Missile launchers and a battery of D-cannons. (though he was well and truly Stunned x god-knows-what!)
The game ends, and my Sallies - the so-called 'handi-capped' Marines, claim glorious victory, having seen off the pointy-eared menace!
And I managed to kill almost as many pts of my own stuff as Phil managed to kill...