Monday, 11 December 2017

The Arrival of the Archdaemon


For my birthday this year I was bought the archdaemon of Nurgle. I green-stuffed a couple of extra horns onto him, as both me and my pal Jack picked ours up at the same time.

He was a joy to paint and now all I need to do is base him before my birthday event on the 17th of the month. The fluff for him is below. 

The Arrival of an Archdaemon


"To me, to my house, you shall all come after your deaths,” spoke the gutteral phlegm-filled whisper on the wind.

Having seized the Charadon Sector with the help of the Deathguard and the greenskins, the Aureus held their territory. Enough sacrifice had been made in the name of Nurgle to win the favour of the Plague Lord.
The forgotten chapter had lost many great warriors on all fronts. Ancients that had served them for thousands of years. But now with the support of the immortal, ancient and twisted beings, hopefully the Jackals would be able to advance even further. Over the coming months the opposition had been intense and the astartes had suffered even greater internal division. Jostien and Asger had started to aid the cause of the greater good against Tyranid invasion, while the renegade forces, under the lead of Fenerus, struck at any force within reach, proving their might and prowess.

Too many Lords sought to prove themselves by going off on their own, dividing the chapter further. Honour dictated that not one would turn their blade on the other, although the old scripture also encouraged warriors to prove themselves through actions not words.
Some fought to restore the good name of their Chapter among the people, while the damned fought for vengeance and the annihilation of the Imperium of man. Each warrior had a following of both sworn brothers and allies new.
Now the Wolf Mother’s plans were coming to fruition. Rognvaldr Pa Veg and Med Leen had guided the Aureus in finding allies and bringing worlds to decay. In doing so, the bargain had been completed and in two months Donn Hel would be released from his eternal prison. Unlike the rest of his kin, Donn was selfish and nihilistic in his approach. Many ancient societies had names for him Donn, The Eater of Men, The Fly-Blown Reaper, Hel and many more. He was a god of death in the eyes of many past. He fed on their souls and revelled in their worship, spouting hate, spreading decay and ending the lives of millions wherever he went.


Twisted by Tzeench a millennia ago, Donn Hel is far from what a Great Unclean One represents but also possesses a much darker lust and power. After having slain and digested hundreds of his own kin within the warp, Nurgle banished him to his eternal prison. Here he has waited and plotted for fifty-thousand years, longing to taste the flesh of his own kind once again. Another rejected daemon fit for the service of the Wolf Mother, a believer of nothing who only wants to see the universe crumble into darkness.

Friday, 8 December 2017

St. Nic's Return


Instead of attending the Christmas event this year at my local games shop (As it was another apocalypse game) I decided to just deploy St. Nic in a normal game of 40k later that week. Daemons and a handful of Marines vs Jack's Tyranids.  Two games in a week, both of which were great fun. The first wolves and T'au vs tyranids and the second Chaos vs Tyranids.



In both games Jack generated plenty of tyranids without paying reinforcement points (an honest mistake made by us all), both with the stratagems and the tervigon, adding up to at least an extra 50 bodies (200+ pts a game). Therefore we decided to void the results of both games.

Regardless they were amazing games and much fun was had.



Here is my silly poem for the holiday season.

St. Nic's Return

The alliance with the T'au,
Had been awfully strong,
But Jostien did not prevail,
The tyranid too stong.

They fell back to the skies,
Greater good, not today,
Asger roared in defeat,
The Aureus way.

A day or two later,
The bells could be heard,
Of the wolves and the deer,
Tyranids knew not a word.

St. Nic came to the aid,
Summoning allies in his wake,
The two great daemons came,
Much trouble to make.

Throwing down his axe,
Rognavaldr knew,
Cleaving the broodlord in half,
Ended his life, synapse too.

Pa Veg and Med Leen, 
Prefered human prey,
But on St. Nic's call, 
Dived into the fray.

The twin-headed bird,
Released a psychic force,
Decimating all in their way,
Except St. Nic of course!

For the Saint had much power,
Innocence long lost,
Neither chaos nor Imperial,
He mastered the frost.

The objective, a bomb,
The termegants overran,
The timer couldn't be set,
Not part of the plan.

Over seconds,
Many tyranids birthed,
St. Nic aimed,
Empty of mirth.

As the warriors cut deep,
His body in two,
A shot rang out,
It's aim so true.

Impacting on the bomb,
It sent the ground asunder,
Everything evaporated,
In a cloud much thunder.

Greater daemons and their kin,
Were sent back to their mother,
St. Nic reformed,
His plane as another.

The battle was over,
A war neither lost nor won,
St. Nic would return,
With a much bigger gun.

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

An Apocolapse


Last Saturday I attended my first ever apocalypse game of 40k. It was 3000 points a person with the intention that everyone would bring a battle forged force.  I brought along ten dreadnoughts and two lords of war across 6000 points, split between me and my pal Alex.  


The forces were Canis Aureus and Eldar vs Tau, more Tau, Guard and Salamanders.

We were outgunned and the opposing team gained first turn. During turn one we lost both lords of war and a few dreadnoughts. Pitting us against three lords of war (Two stormsurges and a shadowsword) and four Tau forgeworld flyers. At this point the game was pretty much decided but we carried on for two more rounds.




David's Eldar versus the T'au/Marine coalition did well, but down on the heavier side of the table it was cleaned pretty quickly.

The only positive of the event was that the enemies warlord never deployed so technically was killed in orbit, whereas Vlees was on the battlefield and also survived (Unlike 80% of my forces).




It was a painfully slow game, each turn taking almost an hour. 

The Imperiam-T'au coalition fended off the forces of the Aureus in one strong push, crippling their advance. Vlees once again lived to see another day, along with his terminator bodyguard, but lost many valuable renegades in the process.

Saturday, 18 November 2017

The Coming of the Iron Hide


Today the Canis Aureus faced Ron and his Vostroyan Guard. The first game he drew no useful objectives and rolled pretty badly and the second did not fall to his favour either. The jackals held their territory and Cleaver the Choppa managed to fell a Russ in both games.





The Coming of the Iron Hide

A spinning vortex of a sickly yellow haze clouded the sky at least two-hundred kilometres in diameter. It held its position unerringly above the battle front. It's power and force so great it had held the Aureus forces on the T'au planet and subjected them to a foul barrage of their own creation. The jackal's forces were held on the ground, a large percentage had taken casualties from the plague storms. Those that had not been swept away or mired, began to pull back to their lines, making the headway they could in the dreadful conditions. many units, most of them astartes and light infantry, were cut off by the plague hordes generated by the widespread miasma of the Plague Lord.

No one, not even Cutter the Choppa could make progress through the maelstrom. While the rest of the Aureus forces were claiming land in the name of the Wolf Mother, the forces of fury and blood were stuck and unable to further the cause. It wasn't until they saw the first of the Vostroyan regiments appeared passing through the thick storm clouds, that the demented Chaos Lord was happy he had been trapped.  

Filled with titanic fury, almost pure and undiluted with thought or other emotions, he mounted his nearby rhino and became locked in combat. After chopping down two of his own renegades in blind rage he punctured the Leman Russ's hide as it came through the dense miasma.  Fuel tanks exploding it threw off the renegades, tearing the pack of Jackals to shreds. Witnessing the Vostroyan's fall back he gritted his teeth and bellowed insults into the wind, before calling on more renegades to enter the fray.


* * * * *

With bitter resentment, Quadir pulled the Endless Cacophany back from the edges of the ruin and into the nearby rhino.  he could tell from this position they would be outgunned on the Vostoyan's return. A quick vox exchange led them to the East flank where they deployed as their transport was hit by the advancing Vostroyan gun line.  

Fell picked up on the faint sound of the Commissar's shouting amongst the bombardment. Honing in on it he directed the rest of his squad to open fire. The howls that erupted tore through the structure and through the mortals behind it. Flesh was parted from bone and their screams suppressed by the audial bombardment. As the Commissar advanced to the edge of the building the Cacophony hit him with a vicious blast as two of the astartes fell to the Vostran's deadly aim. Steadying himself on his feet the Commissar fount his footing as Quadir impacted with the officer, tearing his head from his shoulders with one solid punch.

Explosions crackled through the plague infested ruins in the direction of the plaguebearers advance. The Noise Jackal watched in disgust as they shambled into the scout walkers, preventing them from being a threat.  Just behind the fray he could also make out the form of Cleaver holding a leg into the air and whooping with glee as the Vostroyan's retreated. They had held the territory against the forces of the Imperium, but to what end? There was no merit in them holing this fetid landscape, all was dead, all was lost, their job had been done. 

Quadir longed to be under the command of Salazar once more instead of the brutish oaf that was Cleaver.  Turning the amp up on his weapon he faced the advancing, mindless plague horde. 

"Where the hell are the Deathguard? Isn't it their job to control this mindless scum?" He yelled blasting the flesh from the amassing assailants before him.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

A Mighty Victory

A few weekends ago Jamie, Mia and Me went to the Dice Saloon in Brighton. It is one of our favourite venues despite being quite a trek away from where we all live. While we were there we played one large game, followed by a smaller game. It was the first time seeing a Tiger Shark on the field and the potential of that beast is certainly scary.


Once the games were done we relaxed with some food, drinks and a handful of board games. Below is the fluff from the games.


With trepidation the greater daemon had launched his assault on the heart of the Pax’nera’s home world. The avian ancient knew that this was the path he must take despite the inevitable defeat. Not one but two of the tiger sharks were above them. The first fell to the blast of the macro-ectoplasmic cannon and then the second, but not before the Mother’s Cannon had been crippled. Leaking phosphorus neon liquid it sizzled and spat, until it internally ruptured and split under the fire of the enemy. The twisted beast had taken many months to build and it’s loss would not be taken lightly among the renegade Astartes. På Veg craned around to see the loathing emitting from Vlees. His sockets brimming with internal fluids as he swung his axe in the air, gesticulating for his deredeos to take down the opposing forces. The twin-headed daemon Lord hoped this grinding stalemate would be enough to draw the t’au’s attention from the Charadon sector. He could not foretell their fate, but he knew in time the forces here would be defeated and only Vlees and the horrors under his command would escape.


* * *
Crashing into the landscape below, Cleaver the Choppa was full of confidence. Despite the overwhelming odds that he knew that his forces were about to face, he showed no hesitation. Beneath his helmet his face was twisted with glee. The Lord knew at this very moment a heavy bombardment and assault was taking place on the Pax’nera’s home world. A force not large enough to take the planet but strong enough to be a distraction. No hero’s faced them today. Only a force of nameless officers and a solitary commander greeted them. He recognised the landing craft of the Bay’be Sept’s Ethereal. She had pursued them at a distance and had clearly warned of the incoming threat. Cleaver cared not. He welcomed the challenge. Diving out of his rhino as it caught fire, the crazed Lord cleaved his way into the transport craft before him. Rushing forward his entourage shot and hacked into the breacher team. As the blue bodies fell, the Pax’nera firing line took aim. The six berserkers and their champion all fell to the gunfire and the explosion of the nearby transport tore their corpses apart. Cleaver in his fury had failed to spot the concealed payload of explosives. As his axe impacted into its core, armour, flesh and bone were torn from his frame. Out of the machine span a whirlpool of flame and fire that tore at everything around it. T’au and heretic burnt alike in the supernova that was born from the wreck. Rising from the ash, parts of his skull and rib cage exposed, Choppa pressed on. The defiler given to him by the Deathguard, ate, burnt and shot its way through the main body of the t’au, while the bloat drone tore across the landscape, burning everything in it’s wake. Hooking up to the central air filtration system the drone emptied its fetid fluids and life force into the air filters and pump system. Plaguebearers shambled and threw themselves off of the railings and into the water tanks below. Alarms sounded. Within days this section of the planet would be covered in plague and disease. He hoped it would be enough to claim at least a quarter of the planets population. Perhaps then the Plague Lord would release the arch-daemon from his eternal prison, so that the Aureus could get the answers that they needed. Drinking from the soiled water, Cleaver felt the disease and corruption eat into his injuries. Rage and knowledge were his, he hoped this would bring him the protection that the Plague Father has promised him. Protection that had allowed his rival Gurth to survive such crippling defeats.

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

The Landraider with the Power of a Titan


Still on a creative high from our trip to Warhammer World, myself and Jack decided to have a hobby day today. My first project was to fit a Warhound Titan's gun into a landraider. Originally, Jack said he would give me the gun if I could fit it into a russ but the gun was just too big!  

After a fair bit of sawing and some careful snipping, I managed to secure the gun into the main hull. Due to the lack of stability at first I green stuffed it and put in a fair amount of super-glue. Once it had been held firm I coated the top of the raider and all the green stuff with half a sprue of skulls.  

As you can see in the first picture above, I was also inspired by one of the landraiders in the main display at Warhammer World. Instead of its standard heavy bolters they had replaced them with forgefiend plasma cannons. As this is a proxy for the Cerberus heavy tank destroyer I thought it only fitting that it had two animalistic type heads along with the main gun.

Overall I feel it is getting there, but it still needs a lot of work.

Myself and Jack also both bought the Arch Daemon of Nurgle from Forgeworld, therefore I thought I should make mine look a little different. Instead of three horns mine now has five.

After our day of being creative, we set up Jack's freshly delivered scenery and took to the table. Wolves vs Deathguard. I won, almost tabling by the end of turn three so we called the game there.



The Landraider with the Power of a Titan

It was in the Pax'nera's interests to support Jostien. He was the only ally of great sway that the t'au forces had outside of their own race. It was clear that the Aureus were becoming as feared as the absent Black Legion. A force that could unite the sprawling bands of chaos and command them was not to be ignored. 

After many months of work it had been completed. The shell of a landraider, with the raw power of a supremacy suit's generator and the weapon of a titan were forced onto the thrashing daemon entity.  Contained within it's Ion prison the beast fused with the energy of the generator and, when provoked, created the energy needed to harness the re-purposed, titan-class weaponry.   Witnessing the devastation of the pre-battle testing procedure, Steadstrike was certain of his choice despite some of the others protests. He knew one day the might of this weapon would be turned against them, but he hoped by then they would be prepared. Signalling his crew to leave he bid farewell to Jostien.

Still in the process of regrowing his organs, Jostien was hunched. His tubes and servitors were feeding him with everything his vast form needed to be fighting fit again within the next few days.

"I thank you for your efforts Steadstrike, you have aided us well," said Jostien to the bronze clad giant leaving the disembarkation deck. "We will deal a blow to the Deathguard that they will not recover from."

* * * * *

Landing on the planets surface did not go to plan. Kai had drifted off target and had become wedged into the nearby dilapidated tower block. The battle had already begun and he had cursed himself for missing the start of it. Licking his bloated, daemonic lips he fired his ectoplasmic barrage into the Great Unclean One in front of him, popping the already damaged greater daemon like an overripe fruit. 

"Good work Kai," spoke Jostein from his position to the Ancient's right. The Captain was propped up against the wall of the ruin, his body fairly useless after the tyranid onslaught that he had narrowly escaped only a few days before. Signalling the two deredeos in the building he filled them with calm, making each of their barrages more deadly than the last. 

The blasts from the experimental tanks shook the battlefield, wrecking the Deathguard's Typhon heavy siege tank in two shots.

Within mere minutes the battle had been won. Those of the enemy still alive were put to death, while the daemons were banished back to the warp.

Jostein knew this attack would enrage members of his Chapter but he cared not. He would bring his Chapter's name back to the records of history, not through vengeance and terror but hope in the darkest of times. For the greater good.


Monday, 30 October 2017

The Guardian of Donn Hel


My good friend Jack often acquires job lots of 40k armies. In one of his old batches he received an old sad deredeo. This poor soul had been put together in a rush and sprayed badly. Being the decent gent he is rather than bin it or try to sell it on the cheap, he gave it to me.  It was given to me on the condition that I "Chaosed it up" and made something unique out of it. 

As I already had one deredeo I wanted this one to be equipped with something different. On our trip to Warhammer World both Jamie and Jack encouraged me to buy him some new weapons. After much debate I settled on the plasma weaponry.

The next day i took to building him. First I constructed the basic deredeo then attached the guns and stuck on a skull. 

Soon after I got carried away with the green stuff and had sculpted something quite unique.


Demens was pretty terrifying but Kai is really something else.






The Guardian of Donn Hel

Long fused into his armour, Kai no longer knew where his body ended and the machine began, the daemon had blended with his flesh and fused him into the machine. He cared not for his old form, he knew his father loved him, he knew his father cared about him and would always protect him against harm, a truth he had never felt as an astartes under the command of the Imperium.  The beast had stood and waited, guarding the prison of his master. The Imperium had forsaken him as the Dark Gods had forsaken his Master. Sometimes he wept from his beady black eyes deep within his huge seemingly barren eye sockets, but most of the time he laughed, laughed in the knowledge of knowing his master was soon to wake.

In return for his service, the Canis Aureus had promised to release his master and break the shackles that held him deep within his tomb. He knew that this would be no easy task and swiftly pledged his allegiance to their cause. In time he would make his master's father pay. The Plague God would have no power over this system once his forces met Kai on the fields of battle. Warming up his ectoplasmic generators he made his way to the surface, singing in the tongues of his master.

Sunday, 29 October 2017

My Second Trip to Warhammer World


This weekend me, Jamie and Jack all took a trip down to Warhammer World. All of us were pretty hyper having ordered Forgeworld goodies. Neither of the other two had been before so I was keen to see their reaction.

After the two and a half hour journey up there we were pretty hungry but we didn't stop for food. We pressed on straight into the museum. For those of you that haven't been I shall not ruin what awaits you but below are a couple of collages of some small highlights.




This first one is four nicely painted Chaos leaders that were within the cabinets.




Here are some classic dioramas from the late 80's. 

I won't spoil the sheer gravity of the huge displays but the new Blood Angels vs necron diorama was beautiful. If you have not seen it I implore you to check it out. 



On the Saturday it was also the armies on parade display. Here there were many armies on show, all of which had clearly had a lot of effort put into them. Each had been lovingly thought out and arranged into their dioramas. It inspired me to have a go at my own next year.

The day was brilliant and ended in a Deathguard and Aureus alliance against the forces of the Pax'nera Sept. The t'au suffered a brutal 17-2 loss but it was an amazing game for all involved. Jack got to field his new Great Unclean One, I got to see Rog shine and Jamie set out his entire t'au army onto the field.


Saturday, 28 October 2017

A Grand Victory in Tournament 2

Four armies gathered for the fight over one mighty planet full of rich resources valuable to all. The Aureus were keen to claim the planet for themselves. Two of these armies were forces of the Deathguard, one Eldar and the other the Canis Aureus. 

The tournament was three games per army, the warlord with the most victory points winning the tournament. Each force had to be battleforged and 750 points or under. 

Canis Aureus
x1 Chaos Lord (Choppa) with combi-bolter and poweraxe
x5 Chaos Marines
x9 Khorne Berserkers (Sgt with power fist)
x1 Rhino with x2 combi-bolters
x1 Deredeo Dreadnought, Butcher cannon array, a greater havoc launcher and two heavy bolters.


The Aureus were victorious and won all three games. The first was against the Deathguard and was also the closest game. Coming down to one final save on my deredeo with one hit point remaining. 


The second game was against David's Eldar. It was a brutal first two turns which made for a decisive victory, the deredeo removing ten models in his first round of shooting. After this battle came the final fight against the other Deathguard army that was tabled by the end of turn four. 

In claiming the planet the Canis Aureus have once again proven their might and I won some goodies as a result of that.

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.