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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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.

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.

Stratagems

Twists

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.

Revenge for Konor

Yesterday myself and Jamie dealt with the wrath that was the Ultramarines.  Jack fielded a particularly cheesy list including a grand total of 16 las cannons across 2 devastator squads, a predator and two storm talons. Also in the fray was Guilliman himself, a primaris librarian, a squad of primaris marines a lieutenant and a Knight Errant. 

Even with all of the firepower, it looked like we had a solid victory in our hands until Jack scored two big objectives on turn 4. It was an intense game that ended in 11-10. Not prepared for such a nasty list, I was happy with our survival and performance rate.

My knight also survived until turn 4 saving almost all of the lascannon shots that impacted on his frame. 

Below is some fiction depicting the events of the game.

Revenge for Konor

Vengeance was inevitable. Before the dawn had risen, the forces had arrived. Interrupting the battle with a hail of lascannon fire, the Ultramarines descended. Veterans alongside a handful of new Primaris Astartes deployed with haste, raining fire down upon the forces of both the Pax'nera and the Canis Aureus. Their might and prowess was unlike anything either side had faced before. From out of the haze of battle came the colossal figure of a knight. It's blue armour catching the new dawns rays, illuminating the walker in a holy aura. Making a swift and silent agreement both forces stopped their advances on each other and turned their fire to the new and far greater threat. Still sore from Damocles the Pax'nera Sept wanted to reap vengeance on the Imperium more than quench their rivalry with the Jackals. The Aureus in turn wanted to reap the blood of those who had betrayed them many years ago. Despite being outmatched on the field, both T'au and Heretic fought side by side against the Primarch and his entourage. Gottfried knew he must act quickly. Throwing himself into combat with the enemy knight, he was certain this would be his final battle. Clashing his blade upon it's carapace, the knight reeled from the blows, falling backward sparking and thrashing. From below the Tau firing line punched through its hull into the pilot within. As it's systems failed the towering giant collapsed to the ground, a threat no more. From the south he emerged; furious and wanting vengance for both the Jackal's and T'au's assault of Konor. Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines charged into the T'au forces, raining the Emperor's vengeance down upon them. Shrugging off the hail of firepower, psychic aggression and the payload of bombs from above, the Primarch made his way through the sea of battle flattening all in his path. As the battle raged on Tallen witnessed the glory and prowess of the god on the battlefield. Weakened but raging with unmatched fury, the Son of the Emperor cleared the T'au deployment zone. Furious at the staggering losses his troops had suffered. In a valiant effort the T'au Commander Steadstrike had flown towards them, with the fallen Gottfried in his arms. The pilots torso had taken deep trauma and still retained a large shard of metal that impaled his chest. "Your Lord is no more but I have saved your most honourable warrior from destruction," spoke the Steadstrike on landing. "You can come with me or die here to the dogs of the Imperium. Those are your only options." In awe at the sight of the mighty warrior holding the Freeblade's pilot, Tallet looked to the commander. "We already have a subterranean escape route planned. The demo charges will seal us in and they won't be able to follow us. Well not with nine men and a flyer anyway, even if one is built like a god!" Grateful for the grunts forward thinking, Steadstrike followed the militia into the depths below. Both forces had lost the battle but Stead'strike knew that they had dealt a heavy blow to the Imperium of man. It was a sacrifice worthy of so much death.