Thursday, 19 October 2017

Lord of Khorne: Cutter the Choppa'

After my victory with a proxy Chaos Lord (As I forgot my actual Lord) I decided to make a Lord of Khorne.

I took a primaris body and two ork arms as well as a few chaos bits and made Cutter the Choppa into an actual model. Suitably huge when compared to a standard old marine.

But what is a Khorne Lord without skulls? I hear you say. Well I thought similar, so I decided to give him twenty skulls on his person and seven on his base. The base is a 40mm base which is too big but I think he justifies it.

The same day I painted him and then he was ready for battle.

Last week the might of Cutter the Choppa, clashed with Jamie's Pax'nera T'au Sept.  It was a brutal and brief game. I claimed first turn. Charged from the rhino and ate into the t'au gun line. The retaliation was bloody but it didn't stop my Lord cleaving through the blue-skinned bodies until he claimed victory.

A Servant's Wrath

Removing his helmet their Lord revealed his scarred and pitted visage. Twisted leathery flesh, fused with bone and metal. Like his other warriors, he bore the fresh wounds of self mutilation. Blood poured from his large gnarled hands and wrists into the numerous orifices in his face. His dark eyes stared with glee out into the battlefield before them. Beyond the haze of gore he could see the Pax’nera landing in the ruins opposite starting their advance. Cutter the Choppa clambered into his rhino and called his berserkers forward. Klash began to shiver and chatter as Mauler howled with anticipation. All at once they began the berserkgang. First waves of cold hit them, their joints seizing as they uncontrollably shivered. Moans and roars erupted as their flesh bulged in deep reds and purples. Fever soon bled into rage, chainswords revved into action as the rhino’s hatch was released. Crashing into the t’au battle line the renegade berserkers took the first volley of fire. Bodies riddled with mortal injury they continued to fight on. Amongst his dying warriors Cleaver entered the fray. His huge axe in hand he cut three t’au in half with one blow narrowly missing a fourth. He cared not for his brothers. As six fell down dead the remaining two turned to run. In one swift motion the Chaos Lord cleaved down his own as they attempted to flee, the mighty choppa severing armour, flesh and bone. He was not surprised their fate had been foretold. A precognition had been implanted into his head by På Veg prior to their landing. The mighty greater daemons eyes penetrating his corrupted soul and had foretold his success. Med Leen’s visions had been more grave. They had prophesied his warriors foul fate and the blind rage as he cleaved them down. He knew he would turn from this battle, let the enemy flee, wipe out the tiny horrors in anger at their masters predictions. Recalling the malevolent jeering made his rage boil over. Turning from the enemy he directed his rage towards the warp spawn. Cleaver the Choppa was no ones puppet!

The horror propelled itself onward sullen, chortling and whining. Tears of rage filled its diminutive contorted face. Surrounding him were the six remaining little daemons, laughing and cackling as they simmered and popped. They all knew that they would soon return to their master. Two of the horrors would flee, hide and burn up to nothing, while their blue leader and four other critters would be decimated by the mighty ork weapon. Clambering around the last remaining drones they managed to secure themselves on one and pull it to the ground. Weeping and stamping in a volatile rage, the radiant blue leader slammed his ever-changing form into the dirty below. Unable to focus on their victory he was sealed by the misery of his fate. Turning around he saw the large bulky figure approaching them. “Tell your Lord to get outa my ‘ed!” Yelled Cleaver as he brought down the Choppa, dissipating the horrors into nothing but fire and crackling energy. The Pax’nera had fallen back, the great ones claimed what they wanted and now more of the planet was theirs. Before he had a chance to rejoice, the crackling static and flames seized the Chaos Lord. Sparking and convulsing, his muscles expanded and were filled with a new vigour, a new vigour that would allow him to claim and defend the eldar moon.

Monday, 9 October 2017

Firefights over the Charadon Sector- Fiction

This weekend we had a campaign day down the hut. Nine of us gathered together and formed up to fight plenty of battles. My forces fought alongside the Deathguard against the Nai'Tzeleth Eldar forces and also faced off against the 1st Larissa Watch.  The battles were all at 500pts short but intense.

Firefights over the Charadon Sector

They were late to rendezvous with the allied forces. The warp was playing tricks with them as always, seeking to continually challenge and test their limits. Their anger made them stronger, it made more of them turn from the pull of defeat. They had been bound to fight the Mechanicus and instead ended up with their decaying brothers, fighting the forces of the Eldar. The Deathguard and their Lord were already there, already fighting, already claiming souls in the name of the Plague Lord. The sight of the battle filled their fetid bodies with excitement and anticipation. All at once they took in their surroundings and made their advance towards the xenos forces.

Crazed and tainted by the Jackals' entry, the Fire Dragons belched forth fire in all directions, screaming out in tongues setting fire to friend and foe alike. Quick to silence the tainted the Nai'Tzeleth forces tore down their own in a volley of gunfire, as the Deathguard trudged through the vibrant landscape. The ancient and keen eyed Eldar had no trouble following the path of decay that erupted beneath the Deathguard's tread, the green landscape withering at their feet. 

A stream of razor-sharp projectiles hit the advancing corrupted astartes. Spumes of filth bursting from the marine's ancient and bloated torsos. For a moment they were silent and still, the only sensation a slight vibration as one of the Jackals slumped to the ground. The Pestsjaler let their conscious thoughts drip from their minds, like a tallow of wax from ten-thousand candles in the Wolf Mother's Shrine. They could feel the beating of their bloated and festering primary hearts and the hum of insects from within. Outside the Pestsjaler's enhanced hearing detected the xenos threat readying themselves behind the rocks in the centre of the battlefield.  Without trepidation the plague marines broke their meditative state and bounded around the outcrop of rocks. The eldar within their sight, they opened fire. Well worn weaponry, encrusted in filth and dirt spat hellfire upon the fragile enemy, limbs exploded and torsos were burst asunder. Overhead the plagueburst crawler's fire detonated into the other xenos units forcing them to fall back.  Too slow to give chase, the Deathguard called to halt the advanced. 

Quick to claim their prize the Pestsjaler continued their advance collecting the spirit stones of the fallen for the Wolf Mother's plan. 

Across the Charadon Sector Cleaver sought to make a name for himself in the eyes of the Aureus renegades. He had been outcast even by his own kin, subject to the cure of the Wolves of Russ. It was an imbalance, some speculated a lack of willpower and strength to resist the makings of a true Astartes. With the Deathwatch in sight, Cleaver had led the renegades up through the Deathwatch's main line. Veteran marines guarding a supply drop of great worth.  Their commander stood outside of the cover to meet him and the Deathguard head on. 

"You are nothing but a monster in the skin of a warrior!" Goaded Gregarious Captain of the 1st Larissa watch.

The Aureus Champion lunged and cut only air, as a bolter round punctured his side. The detonation sent shrapnel and meat flying out of him in all directions. The air around him undulated and the realisation that the ground itself had begun to bleed pierced the pain that filled his mind. It ran in thick, crimson rivulets, streaking the chrome plasteel and pooling underfoot. Reality itself began to blink in and out, the faces of snarling slender faced monsters greeting him from a realm not his own. The sight of these xenos females awoke something primal within the wounded wulfen.  He shuddered as he landed two solid blows at the enemy Captain who effortlessly parried his hefty assault. Agony spiked through his body, blades in his skull, daggers in the back of his eyes. There was a crunch as he felt his biceps expand and the muscles and bone twist and crack. Blood poured into his mouth, choking his throat. Sweat broke out across his body as his secondary heart kicked in. 

With a deep, guttural snarl the feral warrior swung axe and claw at his target. Gregarious moved at a speed that his armour belied, dodging and deflecting every attack. Allowing the superior combatant to disengage, Cleaver raised his combi-bolter and spat at the Captain.

"Honour be damned," he roared as he pulled the trigger.

The shots tore through the Deathwatch veterans chest and leg. Falling to the ground he was wracked with rage that his opponent would fall to such underhanded tactics. 

"I should have expected such underhanded tactics from such Chaos scum, wolf. If we can have our supply drop then no one can."

Falling back to his razorback the Captain pulled out, setting off the demolition charges within the building. 

Unable to move Cleaver began to convulse and his skin and armour split, spraying everything with an oily mist of blood. The flesh beneath was discoloured, the pale flesh that came forth was coated in deep scarring that glittered with an oily sheen of blood and sweat. His skeleton snapped as it reformed, the bones in his arms elongating far beyond that of a normal man. Biceps and shoulders burst out from within his original skin, lumps of old muscle and flesh falling off onto the ground in wet, slick motions. From out of the gore and remains emerged a far taller beast than before. The Deathguard had left him some time ago and now he could see the advancing ork forces making their approach. 

"Oi oi gits, look at all dis loot!" said one eagerly as he approached.

"Datz mine zog off. Gork knowz datz mine," spoke another as he belted the first over the head with a large chain.

"I aint letting you 'av anyfink," interrupted another.

"Oi, look dat one still lives!" perked up a fourth

"He's big and naked. We can take him boyz!" Jostled in one eagerly from the back of the pack, waving his big choppa in the air.

Clenching his newly formed fists, Cleaver was keen to find a new and more appropriate weapon to test his new form. Once the greenskin tide had reached him, Cleaver savaged their flesh left and right, his new skin covered in the stink of ork musk and ichor. Dragging the big choppa from the eager ork he slammed the makeshift axe around into the sea of bodies in a blinding arc. The orks burst apart in a fountain of gore. From out of the shower came a face absent of any sane thought and filled with rage. With one swift blow the Chosen was knocked backwards, the choppa falling from his grasp. 

Before Cleaver could right himself a large hand pulled him upright. 

"You did good there. We 'av bigger fings to sort. More loot to grab," said the ork nob pointing to a vague location in the distance.

"I don't want your pity greenskin. Fight me!" Yelled the hulking chaos warrior.

"Keep da choppa he don't need it," said the greenskin gesticulating to the decapitated ork on the floor. "You are git now, wiv big hand and big choppa."

"I'm Cleaver and let you remember that name,"

"Cleaver the Choppa," the Nob said with a bow before leaving with his remaining warriors.

Before he could argue at his new title, Cleaver felt a hand on him again. Through its palm came power and energy. The air around him thick with the smell of burning coals and rancid meat. Turning he saw five xenos women each carrying armour, all from different sources, each one ancient and impressive in it's own right. Behind them leered a gigantic being, a daemon of countless age and experience.

"You did a great job with them shiny tin men boy. Keep it up and you will be rewarded handsomely by the Huntress. If you can stop the Gregory and his Larceny Watch then you will be given great rewards. No one likes thieves especially the ones of mankind." Rasped the daemon in hushed tones, mere centimetres from the Chosen's face.

"I will do as you command my Lord. I am glad I have been deemed worthy of such praise," replied Cleaver as he was adorned and fitted into his new armour by the scantily clad elven warriors, each timeless and blood-soaked.

"Cleaver the Choppa, don't make me regret my decision. Give me blood. Shed it wide and far, let the name Rognavaldr be heard."

As the greater daemon departed, Cleaver tried to decide whether the had been gifted or cursed. Either way he decided he didn't care, bloodshed was all that mattered and he knew some renegades that would be more than happy to help out.

Thursday, 5 October 2017

Clash for the Spirit Stones

The second game of the campaign week was against David's Eldar. The game consisted of two brutal turns of ranged combat and assault, systematically wiping out all three of his main squads. The combination of the noise marines and the plaguebearers close assault made it a swift and harsh defeat. Below is a piece of fiction representing what happened in the second game of the campaign.

Clash for the Spirit Stones

"Ramps ready to drop on your mark,"

"As soon as we are clear we need to join the Acolytes of the Wolf on Ground," Salazar said. He looked back at the writhing, fetid plaguebearers in the back of the hold, soiling his ships surface with layers of rot and filth. 

"I will see you once the battle is done," Quadir, Leader of the Endless Cacophony spoke, his crackling, wavering tones emitting from his vox amplifier.

"With claw and blade," Fell, added. "Her hunt has begun."

As they focused on the task at hand, the agents of the Endless Cacophony  began their hymns. Fell checked over his armour while the five marines opposite sang their death ballad in chorus, making sure his suit was sealed before striking the disembarkation rune with his fist.  It flashed from red to green, there was a thump of mag-locks and a hiss of decompressed air. Releasing the catch on the plaguebearers' containment cell, Salazar charged down the ramp as it fell forward. 

Stanford had been waiting for them. His eyes now adjusted to the truth, flaring with fire and ancient forbidden knowledge.  The xenos were just over the ridge, their spirit stones waiting to be claimed for the wolf mother. Failing to avoid the stream of projectiles that kicked up the stone of the crater around them, Standford and his unit were torn to shreds. Razor-sharp discs cut through bone and flesh with ease. Pulling a cocktail stimulants from backpack, the blood-soaked militia leader punched them into his chest, as he watched his leg roll slowly down the crater's edge.

Slinger's projectiles tore through the advancing plaguebearers like overripe fruit. Milky, yellowed pus burst forth as the shambling, slime-slick daemons marched onward towards their prey. Before the xenos warriors could pull back the plague carriers were on them, tearing through armour and gnawing at the flesh beneath.

Quadir had witnessed similar sights many times, but this was the first time he had fought with the forces of the Plague Lord on his side. With a mixture of disgust and pleasure, he watched the carnage unfold. Despite his senses being dulled to normal combat, the exchange still thrilled him. Most of the Jackals revelled in the sensation of axe and fist splitting flesh and breaking bone, but the agent required far greater chaos in battle.  Their hymn over, the Lord of the Endless Cacophony, turned up his amplifier and released the Howls of the Mother from their psycho-sonic weaponry. Impacting into two of the three squads of guardians. Eldar burst and split as flesh and armour was stripped from bone. Those that survived the blast clawed at their minds as the horrors of the warp filled their vision, before being torn down by bolter rounds from Fell's advancing squad. 

Not only had they secured the corpses they were after, but Quadir had found the drop of xenos supplies and weaponry. Releasing two more waves of sound into the retreating eldar forces, the Cacophony twitched in pleasure while flesh was flayed and their weapons exploded in arcs of flame.  

Salazar was greatly pleased with his warriors. Collecting the spirit stones off of the dead he wondered of the Wolf Mother's intentions. The thought came as quickly as it went. Any moment spent too long dwelling on the Huntress, gave him thick nosebleeds and nausea. He was a soldier not a thinker after all.  Signalling for his crew to finish up, the Champion made his way back to the drop ship.

Sunday, 1 October 2017

Kick Off: Clash with the Mechanicus

Today I played two 500pt games with Ed to Kick off the Battle for the Charadon Sector: Builder Campaign.  He used a small but highly effective force. My outreach team could not deal with the might of his kastelan robots along with his Tech Priest. The 2+ saves and healing was too much to deal with. The first game was close but the second was a crushing defeat. Turn one of the entire campaign and my forces are at the mercy of the Machine God.

Clash with the Mechanicus

His head was still filled with visions of the twisted greater daemon. The two conflicted heads gnawed at his mind and he lacked confidence in his forces. Gurth had heard that his renegades had fought valiantly, but had fallen to the invading forces of the Mechanicus. Leading the counter attack, the shaken Chaos Lord launched his counter assault. 

Within twelve seconds both his force of plague bearers and the Endless Cacophony veterans, had been torn down by a horrendous volley of firepower.  Left in the open Gurth jumped onto the rooftop and attempted to penetrate the giant shells of the kastelan monstrosities before him.  Hate and fear filled his body as he clenched down upon the trigger of his combi-melta, the blast deflected off of its gleaming bodywork, narrowly missing the Lord's own head. Enraged and horrified by the Chaos lords affront, the Tech Priest took aim and fired. Gurth had been erased from existence. 

Across the battlefield a small squad of five renegades swiftly moved into the northern ruin, destroying the evidence of the Wolf Mother's Shrine location. Paperwork and runes were charred and scattered by their frag grenades. Rangers flew from the room covering their retreat, their firepower punched through the marines' armour and tore through their vital organs. 

Stanford witnessed their demise.

"Look Gurth's made his sacrifice, he was spooked and useless. Pull back we need to survive this shit storm. Those metal freaks are too strong. No need to throw our lives away for this lads," spoke the young square jawed militia captain. 

"But sir what about the volkite weaponry?"

"Leave it. Those metal bastards can have it. At least the Astartes scum managed to destroy the evidence of the shrine before re-arming our enemy."

"But sir the Wolf Mother requires blood!"

Eustas Standford cursed. He looked at Farrow, the grunt's eyes were filled with the light of their goddess. Her daemonic visage flickered deep within his sockets. It was clear The Huntress wanted blood, before they left he knew that they had to kill something.  With eager eyes he took to the corner of the large ruin and saw his target. In amongst chaos of the enemy's close assault on their rhino, he could see the solitary ranger.  One man to their five guns.  

"Alright boys!  The Wolf Mother is watching. Kill the skinny bastard and then we can get out of here. There's no point in us being here any longer."

As the tech Priest drove his axe into the rhino with one final swing, he pulled the writhing chaos marine out from within.  Calling an end to the battle the Priest pulled the trigger erasing the Astartes from the material world. Unperturbed Standford charged forward, his remaining militia emptying all of their rounds into the ranger before disappearing into the ruins unseen.

They had lost the sector, but as they ran they could feel their eyes burning and radiating with holy light.  She had blessed them. The Wolf Mother had allowed them to see. Bathing in the Mother's light they knew what they had to do and how the next task had to be carried out.  

Monday, 25 September 2017

Fiction: Eskade - Shrine World of the Wolf Mother

As he scratched at the festering wound in his side, Gurth convulsed before he wretched and delivered another serving of maggots to the rats beneath him.  The Wolf Mother had told him to come here. In doing so he had deserted the rest of his Chapter and travelled to the Charadon Sector along with his war band of Jackals. Months had been spent doing nothing while the rest of the Aureus squabbled and fought across the stars.  The Ancient had heard the tales of valour at Konor and the treachery of the new Primaris created to fight for them. He longed to be back in conflict, to show his chapter the might of Grandfather Nurgle.

“You’re disgusting and small,” rumbled a voice from above the Lord, the waft of breath scented with iron, smoke and charred flesh.

As the Jackal turned to greet his opponent he raised his volkite blaster with unnatural speed, his decaying limb flaking with the rapid motion. High above him towered a greater daemon of Khorne. Bewildered and lost for words Gurth pulled the trigger of his highly sought after firearm. The blasts tore through the beast's thick red skin but failed to penetrate the dense flexed muscle tissue below.

“Why does the Huntress choose such a weak and pathetic leaker to do her bidding? I am not your errand boy tiny man.”

“Ssstop… sssstop it with the insssultsss beassst unlesss you mean to fight me. My new massster has given me a force that will flourisssh in the eternity that is death. My legion of the undying is more than you can handle great one,” Gurth challenged, barely moving his infested facial features, as his clouded, singular cyclopean eye span wildly and without focus.

“I need to go and shed blood. I don’t have time for you or your so-called army. Here are your orders now do your work for the Huntress or I will be back to gut you,” spat the agitated Rögnvaldr’s, nostrils flaring as his temper increased.

With an almighty impact the rune stone hit the ground as the mighty daemon phased back out of reality. Masonry fell from the central shine chamber and the walls began to buckle. Having foreseen this moment many times over in his visions, Gurth grabbed the stone and ran towards the worn and submerged temple doors. Just like in his visions, he passed through the stonework as if it was water and clambered up the giant stone steps before him.

Inside of the temple there was a colossal statue magnificent and vast. A woman with the head of a wolf and the body of a human woman. One arm ended in a huge claw while the other hand held a vast daemonic blade.  The altar that stood before it, elegant and ornate, it’s centre filled with trinkets and scrolls of various sizes and colours. Each scroll simmered and distorted before his eyes. The surrounding walls were covered in scripture and perfect condition written in some ancient and forbidden language. Focusing on any part of the text made even the ancient astartes mind burn and his nose run thick with blood. Before he could investigate his surroundings any further a vast bird head with vibrant red plumage, came from around the corner.

“I have been expecting you Lord of the False Path, Unbeliever of the Truth. You have been chosen to protect this word, reap the reward of the Warp, free the Mother from her shackles and let the greatest hunt of the universe begin,” cackled the vast demented head.

Moving into the centre of the temple towards the altar, Gurth could see the vast bipedal form of the greater daemon before him. He knew he had been blessed or doomed to have been in the presence of two greater daemons within the hour. He began to approach before reeling back in horror as not one but two heads emerged, craning round to look at the astartes from behind.

“Fear is good and fear feeds the Mother of Wolves, bring fear to the system and protect her shrine world. You have been chosen to lead the armies of both humanity and Chaos in the name of the true Goddess of the Warp,” spoke the crimson plumed head, it’s eyes wide and unfocused.

“You have been chosen to die as a distraction for the ritual that is about to take place. Send your pathetic forces of the Grandaddy to death worm and let us feed off of your souls. Prove your worth!” Spat the head with flecks of green plumage.

Gradually it turned to face the Chaos Lord, one hand grabbing a staff and the other a mighty blade that’s surface constantly changed and twisted.

“Kill him now and then we can make a start on the preparations!” Snapped the green plumed head at the red.

“No he needs to be kept alive to defend this planet as the ritual takes place!”

The daemon moved with a grace and speed that Gurth had come to expect from most of the capable and older daemons in the warp. As the sword arm lunged at him, the arm with the staff intercepted. Beaks tore into flesh and feathers. Sword and staff bludgeoned and cut in union. Not able to comprehend what was taking place before him, Gurth left the temple with haste. Inhaling large amounts of the stale atmosphere he collapsed to his knees convulsing and contorting. His mind on fire he knew he had to protect this planet. For better or worse he was going to be part of something great. He had to contact the Deathguard, he needed their power, their protection and most of all their Primarch.

Sunday, 24 September 2017

Battle for the Charadon Sector - Halloween Stratagems and Twists

The Canis Aureus along with nine other forces are fighting in my first ever long winded campaign. Run with narrative and cinematic moments in mind, ten players have assembled to try and conquer the system over a six month period. The idea is to keep the cheesy game play light and the missions story driven.

The map is a work in progress but all will be finalised by the end of the week.

Each month I will also be making fun Stratagems and Twist cards that are optional in battle. Below are the first months Halloween themed stratagems and twists.



Saturday, 23 September 2017

Daemonic Support

Having won with a full daemon army at 1000pts, I decided to go in again with half daemons, half chaos marines at 2000pts. The game was very close only leaving me with two troop units remaining against a fair amount of decent T'au units. Jamie fought well with his Pax'nera Sept, blowing away my most valuable targets.

It was a wonderful game and it has cemented my belief that daemons are a pretty great option in 8th Edition.

Daemonic Support

After wasting much time and slaughtering a number of his own forces, Rögnvaldr finally managed to get a portal opened to meet the Canis Aureus Astartes. They appeared to be heading into battle with the same brassy, blue skins that the greater daemon had just been in conflict with. Releasing a bellow of maniacal laughter, The Lord of the Unquenchable Thirst flew at the largest thing on the battlefield. As he brought his mighty axe down upon the riptide it's warning signals flashed and glared as its pilot was exposed. Far from the small retrieval party he had faced previously, these T'au bit back with extreme force. Rögnvaldr looked down at his perfect barrel of a chest to see his exposed rib cage and beating organs beneath. To die in battle was honour but to fall ineffective was a fate he could not bare to endure again. Launching upward he assisted the Aureus forces by smashing into the centre all tower. Hacking through masonry and plasteel, he eventually connected with the T'au leader's squad beneath. Sending the blue skinned body parts across the battlefield he roared in victory. As he faced off against the female leader he chuckled.

"You puny blue skins with all of your shiny, you think you are tough but I know different. I've shown you now. This is the true might of Rögnvaldr, I am ancient, I am terror, I am..."

"You are an egotistical brute with no honour!" Spat the female commander before charging at the gloating menace.

Her shots seemed to pass through him with little to no effect. Ego bruised, Rögnvaldr picked up the commander and ate her. He bit off her head first off her head before he threw the rest of her down his gullet whole.

Sulking at her accurate remarks, he decided to sit on the objective. Putting his axe down to one side, he jabbed at the machinery with his index finger. The lap dog of chaos never did understand technology. Part of him longed to understand the progress of races such as the T'au but more often than not his rage boiled over and he forgot about these deep thoughts as quickly as they had arrived.. Behind him a hellbrute exploded tearing apart the riptide and an obliterator. He knew the Aureus had prevented the T'au from getting what they needed but was repulsed by their ineffectiveness.

"All armour no sunstance," he said to no one in particular as he watched the T'au withdraw. Recalling the commanders insults a few seconds before he rose up and began to bellow in the direction of the retreat. The remaining crisis and stealth suits unloaded their weaponry into the greater daemon. Shots tore through his spinal column, separating his massive torso from his legs. The battle was over.
Fading out of reality the daemons took the technology back to their realm. Rögnvaldr left the Ta'u with the final image of his demented grin as his massive body phased back to his realm along with the console under his arm.