Friday, 12 February 2016

Everything Has It's Price

40K may be an expensive hobby to some or a "sink hole" as it has been referred to by friends.  I have to say I dismissed it for years.  As a teen I bought some figures and had some bought for me but I really didn't play at all.  I spent money and badly painted some figures.

Now as an adult I have discovered the brilliance of it.  The rather luck-fest of a battle system allows for light but delightfully unpredictable combat.  Each battle unfolding a story, developing the narrative with each conflict... or maybe that is just me.

I look forward to facing many different armies and learning how they work.  Adding their conflicts to my forces history.  What foes will they face?  Who will crush them? How will they achieve victory?

Below are some pictures of my latest game that Keith and Ed were pleased to run at Marquee Models.  It was Mia using Keith's Dark Angels vs my Canis Aureus.  She trounced me 14-5 with some reckless tactics that pulled the tide of victory in her favour from the start.  You can read my fiction below.

The reckless rhinos that claimed 4 victory points early on.

Her Indestructible Terminators also did a fine job of
laying my forces to waste.

Everything Has It's Price

The dust settled softly and daintily on the blood splattered ground. There was silence. The screaming and gunfire had come to an end. Now the clock was ticking. Grendel knew he shouldn't have done it but he needed the trophy. No, the pack needed it. It had taken some planning, but they had hunted down the inquisitor responsible for the manhunt that had been launched against them.

She had the presence of someone of her station but her body was weak. He used Ferenus to lead a front-on assault against the compound so he could breach his way through with little opposition. Ripping doors from their hinges with his servo arms and laser cutting and blasting his way through walls, it was easy to reach the escape pod before the Inquisitor.  As she burst into the room he took out her legs with two shots from his bolt rifle. Quickly cauterizing the wounds, he carried her out onto the now silent battlefield. They had no immediate escape but their message had been sent.

Grendel could see the Dark Angels coming. A strong assault force was advancing, led by a seasoned Chaplain. They had already claimed most of the compound before the first shots were fired. Recklessly, the rhinos stormed through the fortifications as their land speeder flew into the temporary command station, removing any hope of backup arriving sooner.

Certain that death was imminent, Ferenus ordered his Aureus packs to advance. The Night Jackals flew into combat, leaping and thrashing at the incoming landspeeder.  In an instant what was left of the pack was sent hurling backwards as the rest were vaporised. Karael had been too keen to decimate the land speeder. With a well aimed hit from his lascannon he had vaporised the crew and the fuel unit sending both his own brothers and their Night Jackals diving for cover.  He gloated, silently entombed in his mighty and ancient frame.

Cuyler had not seen a plasma cannon like the one he held before. It was beyond ancient, a relic of a time long passed by. It was the only heavy weaponry that  the pack had brought with them from the warp. Today was the first time one had been used by the pack for thousands of years. It was his honour. Cuyler pulled the trigger and saw a Terminator marine collapse in the distance, entombed in glowing liquid. Ignoring the fizzing and shuddering of the weapon, he pulled the trigger again with great satisfaction.

The Dark Angels’ Terminators advanced, their storm bolter blasts hitting with shocking accuracy. Witnessing a large explosion of plasma erupting in the distance they pushed forward. Incinerating the remains of the Jackals, they charged into the trenches and clashed with Ferenus' squad head on.  Twisted cries came from Hadlig and Jontas, as bolter rounds exploded in their torsos giving their Warlord’s armour a new Crimson hue. Cursing, Ferenus ordered his remaining guard to engage. Pouncing onto his larger opponent, the space marine Warlord slashed at the terminator in front of him, tearing deep into the walking fortress.  Digging his claws into his assailants flesh he roared in agony. Falling backwards and leaving his claw deep within his foes chest, Fenris tried to quickly stem the flow of blood that erupted from where his arm once was.

Popping the writhing Psycher's head in his mighty grasp, the Terminator Leader looked down at the pitiful corrupt Warlord at his feet. Lifting his leg high he knew he would get rewarded for his efforts. Stamping out this poor excuse of a marine would give his squad yet another huge victory on the field. With the thought still on his mind he was crushed into the nearby battlement. Honodrious roared, lifting the Chaplain high above his shell and brought him back down again, reducing him to a pile of metal, bone and flesh beside the impacted Captain.  Bubbling with rage, Honodrious had once again given into chaos. He threw his terrifying form into the tactical squad in front of him, their grenades failing to penetrate his bulky frame. One by one he tore them apart in hideous glee.

On the other side of the battlefield Karael charged the remaining assault squad, inspired by his Elders fury. As he approached one grenade cracked his armour, sending an unpleasant creaking sound throughout the less fleshy parts of his body. Ignoring the searing pains in his side and face he continued to punch his way through the marines in front of him.

By the time back up arrived Grendel had prevented his Warmaster from bleeding out. He had managed to patch his arm and pump the blood and oil from his bionic lungs. Ferenus growled his appreciation in the form of tactless sarcasm and remained prone as their brothers carried him into the shuttle. Grendel knew that what he had arranged had come at a high price. Many good marines had been lost today. Their biggest loss since they had left the warp, but also their largest achievement.  They had claimed the inquisitor that had tarnished their name and honour. Now for as long as Grendel lived, the inquisitor would be sure to serve and suffer for her sins. He would make sure to keep her soul alive but he intended to cripple her spirit.

Waiting for the dreadnoughts to enter the ship he surveyed his fallen comrades and foes.  They still awaited the rest of their brothers to return from the warp. Until the day of their return they had no weaponry aside from bolters, bolt pistols and a handful of plasma weaponry. He called out Daggfin and gave him the Missile launcher, which had fragmented his brother Croben and his once mystical body across the battlefield. Daggfin accepted the gift knowing that it would further the pack.

Once he had salvaged some more useful weaponry and equipment Grendel made his way back to the now active inquisitor that was desperately trying to crawl to safety.  Dragging her kicking, cursing and screaming he walked into the ship and muttered prayers for his fallen comrades.

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