“Where is Inquisitor Luthor?” Inquisitor Delenthos, Grandmaster of the Ordos Historicus Veritus scowled out of his ancient suit of battle armor. Dozens of strange devices were attached to it, lights blinking and strange life support devices wheezing as they kept his ancient body operating. The Locust, as he was known, had a long history of escaping death, and he prided himself on his skills in that matter, and had pride in all that the ancient battle armor could do.

“I…am not sure m’lord.” The Head Warden of Avitas, a man so beneath him that Delenthos could not even remember the man’s name, bobbed his head in apology. The two of them stood at the entrance to the sprawling quarters that Inquisitor Luthor Dominatus, Fifth Seeker of the Burning Secrets, Warrior of the Ordos Hereticus and his retinue had been occupying on the frozen ice prison world of Avitas. Now those quarters were empty, cleared of every last vestige of his colleague.

“He has shifted loyalties…” Delenthos whispered half to himself as he considered the room. “He was always more focused on the dangers of Chaos than that of the Xenos…the mind witch got to him.”

“I fail to understand your meaning-“ began the Head Warden, unctuously trying to seem helpful. Delenthos spun on him, a hand sheathed in powered ceremite clamping down on his jaw, grinding the bines together painfully as he glared at the man with eyes filled with angry fervor.

“The Host!”

“M’lord, what?” The Warden whined.

“The Immortal Host, was Azamerac here, was one of his lackspittle agents?”

“Yes, M’lord, a regular transfer just the other day, prisoners from-“

“Damn their eyes, they are going to help the xenos witch destroy it all!” Delenthos tossed the man aside, growling under his breath as he turned and stormed down the hallway, the servos of his battle suit snarling, small vents hissing as the internal generators went to work stabilizing his overactive choler. He keyed open a secure vox channel to one of his retinue upon his warship. “Prepare Operation Hidden Blade.”

“Sir, is that wise?”

“It is the only way, they may break a few things in the process, but they will keep the door open, and we can always reclaim the prize from the remains of the dead.”

=====================================

Harry Paget cursed the vagaries of fate again as he walked along in the wake of Inquisitor Luthor and the towering figure of the Immortal Host Captain. Harry and his men had narrowly escaped a Dark Eldar attack upon Avitas, and had managed to get back to the prison at the exact perfect time – mere moments after the Dark Eldar had attacked, butchered nearly half the soldiers on guard duty, and had escaped with the Farseer prisoner. All well and good, as far as Harry was concerned.

But that was when the Inquisitor had called for him, asking him about the attack, conversing cryptically about vague plans, and then, when the Immortal Host had arrived, suddenly Harry had been needed…or, rather, Commander ‘Flash’ Paget and his clearance codes had been needed. It had started with a nightmare journey to the Forge World of Iunden to pick up certain unnamed supplies, and then Harry had been asked to help pave the way for a rather strange secret exodus to head towards the strange spatial warp known as The Dragon’s Eye. The Inquisitor and the few Immortal Host agents with him had led them with uncanny accuracy towards the distortion, a path that Harry at first been happy enough with as it led away from the nightmare that had been Iunden, but then had grow increasingly uncertain of as they had grown closer and the hairs on the back of his palms began to itch, assuring him that danger lay ahead. Still, against all logic they had found here…a world, a habitable world hidden from all detection. One moment they had been looking into the vastness of space and the horrors of that strange warp distortion, and the next there was a small planetoid in front of them.

More Immortal Host ships had started to arrive shortly thereafter, and strange sleek, blade nosed xenos ships as well, archaic, ancient, and predatory looking. Like tiny piranhas swimming amongst the sedate whales of the Imperial ships.

Harry had hoped that as things grew in scope that he might be allowed to quietly slip off and get lost amongst the teeming forces of the Immortal Host, but such secure anonymity was difficult to be found amongst the tightly knit menial clans in service to the chapter, and so the Inquisitorial retainers found him easily enough, and dragged him into the middle of one of those meetings that he truly wished he wasn’t at.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to miss this,” confided Nero Jaxx, one of the insane Inquisition agents. Next to Harry was his aide-de-camp, Linda Eppledorfer, whose commitment to the fiery fury of The God Emperor was as large as her ample bosom, and whose sense of self-preservation was about as alert as her danger sense: aka – not at all. Around him stood the other Inquisitorial agents; Nero, the gunslinger, the pale mind-witch noblewoman whose strange icy eyes always seemed unfocused, a burly man wearing the robes of a priest and carrying a book of prayer and a massive blade, a grim faced woman who wore an Arbites honor badge, a silent man in the ancient warrior garb of a crusader order, and many others. Around the room were arrayed Immortal Host warriors, Raven Guard Agents, and, most oddly of all, representatives of the Eldar.

“Master Azamerac,” a Raven Guard agent was speaking, “I bring greetings from Shadow Captain Lachlann, he regrets that he cannot send more aide but his forces are needed in the aftermath of the assault on Iunden.” Azamerac nodded, grim faced, not that Harry knew why the man looked so stoic. Unlike Harry he hadn’t been stuck in the middle of that gruesome attack, the waves upon waves of screaming greenskins rolling forward in a never-ending mob…Harry shook his head, trying to banish the memories. “Lachlann also sends particular greetings to High Warden Kilij of the 1st Company, and bade me to present him with this honor blade, forged by Shadow Captain Lachlann himself from smelted ores from a piece of Spear of Vengeance that had been embedded in his side from an explosion (If you missed that tale, relive the bloody battle here – Continuity Custodian – Ed.), he offers his thanks for the bravery of you and your battle brothers for standing with us, and wishes you to know that the blood is remembered.”

“The honor of the Captain and his gift are both held in equally high esteem by me,” intoned Kilij gravely as he took the massive blade, drawing it forth to admire the fine work with a small nod of appreciation. He discarded his own combat knife to an adjutant and placed the gift on his belt. “I shall wear, and wield, it with gratitude. What news does your Shadow Captain have for us?”

“He wishes me to warn you, we intercepted a transmission, an un-encoded frequency, broadcasting information that appears to reveal information about your troop deployments and the location of this planetoid to the Death Guard.”

“Delenthos,” growled Azamerac softly, “he will regret this day.” So saying he drew forth his own combat blade and slit his palm, repeating the words again as his blood dribbled to the floor. The other Immortal Host present all nodded in agreement, many of them repeating the action themselves.

“Chaos will come,” said Diyneer, her odd lilting voice heavily accented as she spoke otherwise flawless High Gothic, her esoteric wargear and xenos bodyguards slightly looking idiosyncratic as she held a plain, guardsman green, recaff mug in her hand. “I must be allowed time to finish the ritual though, or all of this system, and many more like it, will become a place of suffering, torment, and the eternal madness of Chaos. I will go down to the temple with the Thrakul, but I will need protection, there will need to be chosen champions, a small and elite force, to watch over me. We must consider with care whom they shall be.”

She took a sip of the recaff in her hand, though she seemed displeased with the mix. Harry didn’t blame her, the Immortal Host menials might be drilled to perfection in their duties, but not a one of them knew how to brew anything better than a motor oil like sludge that they chose to call recaff. Frankly, if not for that saucy strawberry-blonde who cleaned his quarters Harry would have been of the opinion that none of the menials knew how to do anything except drill and battle routines, but she definitely knew some acrobatic moves, and how she could howl when Harry put the ol’ faith of The Emperor to-

“-which is why I think Commander Paget would be integral to the mission,” finished Diyneer. Harry blinked, coming back to his senses with a grim surety that he had just had some grox droppings splattered on his soul. Lieutenant Eppledorfer was tugging at his shirt sleeve and trembling with glee.

“Isn’t this grand, Commander Paget?” She beamed like the madwoman she was. “You and I, taking part of the primary mission?”

“I’m really more of a large battle sort of fellow,” he joked, hoping maybe he could bluff them into giving him a spot in the rear guard somewhere. “I’m not a commando at heart.”

“I would not turn you away if you wished to stand with me and mine,” offered Azamerac with a shrug, “we will take battle positions against whatever army Chaos brings to bear near the entrance to the temple, guarding all within with our very lives by defending the access gates.”

“Yes,” agreed Harry as he quickly did some consideration about maybe being in a place guarded by a bunch of psychotic supermen, or being on the frontlines with said soldiers who often tended to forget that not everyone happened to be a psychotic superman. “Though, thinking about it, I doubt I would aid your battle orders much, probably just get in the way, really. Perhaps the commando mission is best, whot?”

He was going to die here, Harry was certain of it.

The Pyres of Petod

The mission will be played between two teams of two players each.
The board setup will be two tables, one player from each side will be in charge of each table representing their forces.

TABLE 1: The Waystones

2,000 points per side
Build using standard rules, Battleforged or Unbound lists are acceptable

6x4 table.
The battlefield will represent a wasteland.
There are three special building/markers that represent Eldar Webway devices.
Vanguard Strike deployment.
1 Objective will be placed in each deployment area by the player deploying in that area, and a third will be placed at the direct center of the board.
Dice off for first turn as normal.

The goal of the mission is to hold onto as many of the Webway devices as possible for as long as possible, as it will affect the battle on Table 2.
Each side earns 1 point for every turn they hold an objective.
First Blood, Linebreaker, and Kill the Warlord is in effect.

===========================
TABLE 2: The Ritual

Necromunda mission with two custom forces.
One force will represent the assembled heroes of the Eldar, Dark Eldar, Immortal Host, and Imperial elements in support of the mission.
The Chaos force will be a smaller group, set on the idea of ending the ritual and claiming the Thrakul for themselves.

4x4 table.
The battlefield represents the entryway into the Webway being created by the Elendil Thrakul.
There are two objectives, the Elendil Thrakul, and Farseer Diyneer.
Divide the table into quarters, the Thrakul is placed in the center of one quarter by the Imperial player, and Diyneer in the center of the other.

The Imperial deployment will be within 12" of either the Thrakul or Diyneer.
The Chaotic deployment will be anywhere 12" of either the Thrakul or Diyneer.
First turn and setup will be decided by the dice off on Table 1.

Special rules:
Diyneer is immobile. She has access to all of her psychic prowess, but can never leave her position for any reason nor participate in the shooting phase. She is also immune to shooting attacks due to her psychic shields. She may participate in assault normally except that she can still never move.

The Elendil Thrakul is treated as an objective.
On any of their turn's shooting phases where the Imperials or Chaos hold the Elendil Thrakul they may force a Perils check on a unit on Table 1. This is resolved normally per the rulebook. If targeting a unit of more than 1 model then the owning player may select the targeted model.
[We totally forgot to do this the entire game!]

Each turn besides their first Chaos rolls 1d6 for reserves, w. +1 to the die roll for each of the three Webway devices they hold
1. 1d4 Plaguebearers/Daemonettes/Pink Horrors
2. 1d4+2 Plaguebearers/Daemonettes/Pink Horrors
3. 1d4+2 Plaguebearers/Daemonettes/Pink Horrors 1 of them will be a Herald.
4. 1d4+2 Plaguebearers/Daemonettes/Pink Horrors 1 of them will be a Herald w. 20 points of upgrades.
5. 1d3 Beasts of Nurgle/Fiends of Slaanesh/Screamers
6. 1 Daemon Prince w. 1 Greater Gift
7. 1 Daemon Prince w. 2 Greater Gifts
8. 1d4+2 Plaguebearers/Daemonettes/Pink Horrors 1 of them will be a Herald w. 20 points of upgrades, 1d3 Beasts of Nurgle/Fiends of Slaanesh/Screamers, 1 Daemon Prince w. 1 Greater Gift.
9. Great Unclean One/Keeper of Secrets/Lord of Change
Daemonic Reserves may arrive via Deepstrike or walk on from either of two opposing corners.
There is a 12" zone of Deepstrike denial around the Elendil Thrakul and Farseer Diyneer
The Daemon reserve units will operate as units, moving, shooting, and assaulting together. They may be joined by ICs normally.

TURNS: Both games will be played concurrently - Table 2 will play 2 turns for every 1 turn Table 1 plays.

RESOLUTION: At Table 2, the battle will be decided on the end of Turn 8.

If the Imperials hold both the Thrakul and Diyneer is alive: Crushing victory! All of the surviving heroes have all their wounds healed and are deepstruck onto the main board at the start of the Imperium's next turn. This deep strike is impossible to scatter with, and the models arrive as one conjoined unit that may break apart when and as they wish per normal IC rules.

If Chaos holds the Thrakul and Diyneer is dead: Crushing Defeat! At the start of Chaos' next turn on Table 1 place a model to represent one of the Apocalypse Daemons onto the board via a non scattering deep strike - the Ruinous powers laugh!
Diyneer lives and Chaos holds the Thrakul: Pyrrhic Victory... Diyneer will use the last of her life energies to seal the Thrakul anyway, the effort will kill her. All of the remaining Imperial heroes are teleported down to Table 1, but with no healing, and also each comes separately and scatters from deep strike normally. Chaos may then Deep strike all the survivors from its forces as well, grouping them into units as it sees fit. They also scatter normally.

If Diyneer dies but the Imperium holds the Thrakul: Brute Force Solutions - one of the survivors (probably a Space Marine, let's be honest) decides, 'aw...screw it!' and breaks the Thrakul. All of the Surviving Imperial Heroes take 1d3 wounds (invulnerable saves allowed) and are then ported down to the battle as one unit that scatters normally.

================
Final Victory is decided based on Victory Points from Table 1.

The Immortal Host Running as Dark Angels, I believe




I have no good grasp of this army. But here is what I am aware of;
Belial
Librarian on Bike
Bike Squad
Multiple Termie Squads
Gray Knight Termies
Some Tactical Squads.


The Death Guard and Orks Allies in Green


Lord on Bike w. Spawn
3x Oblit squads
2x Heldrakes
Ork Warboss on bike w. Bike squad
Some zombies
2x Grot squads
2x Trukks w. Tankbustas

=========================
And on the Kill Team Table
=========================

Chaos’ Agents

The powerful Yhtlif Mucs , one of Gentukama’s finest warrior/sorcerer lords will lead the mission. (counts as Typhus)


With him is a brace of plague zombies.


The Slaanesh swordsmaster, Ssecxe the Ever Murder is also on hand. (counts as Lucius)


Miore’ the Calvacade will also aid the forces of Slaanesh (counts as Masque)


They also get Fulgrim!...kidding, but I wanted to feature a nice closeup of the model. They will get a lot of summoned in daemon support though, and perhaps a Fulgrim model counting as a Slaanesh Prince?

The Eldar/Human Alliance aka The Eldar/Mon’keigh Alliance or the Human/Filthy Xenos Alliance


Commander Harry ‘Flash’ Paget, Lieutenant Linda Eppledorfer, and Techpriest Armin Staahl represent the Allied 1st Mechanicum.


High Warden Kilij of the 1st Company, arrayed in full Terminator armor and wielding some of the most fearsome war relics of his chapter will lead the Immortal Host defenders. (Counts as Lysander)


Librarian Teth Angelus stands with him.


As does one of the Chaplains of the Host, intent on making sure no heresy happens from treacherous xenos allies.


Marcus just wanted to make sure I featured his styling cloak.


As extra insurance, the Immortal Host arranged for an assassin to be on hand…also to guard against xenos treachery.


Ghul’katcha Maerrett, the Frozen Rain, 1st Daughter of the House of Maerrett, has elected to personally attend the ritual. Alongside her are her Incubus bodyguard, Zak Phaer’irr, and her younger sister, Brizelya Maerrett, 2nd Daughter and Thunderhead of the Cerulean Storm.


Lady Aine, the Radient Scorpion, Gilgard, and Lothfalas will all serve as bodyguards to Farseer Diyneer as she attempts to complete the ritual.


I forgot my Luthor model, so here is Luthor…looking a bit Immortal Host-y Inquisitor


His retinue is ready for work though. From left to right;
Theolonius Dolorous – Crusader of the Knights of Gules
Pontius Fleak – Tech Adept wielding dual flamers.
Lady Ecatarina DuBray – noblewoman and telepath owing a debt to the Inquisition.
Nero Jaxx – Gunslinger and Hiver who masquerades as a nobleman and protects Lady DuBray.
Spring Hassig – Ex-Arbirtes and now Inquisitorial Adept.
Dolan Harnar – towering Imperial Priest who lives for battle and cleansing the unclean.
Rueben of House Cawdor – Former Hive Ganger, and resolute warrior.

Let us first consider Table 1, where the three elder webway devices serve as lynchpins in the defense of the hidden fortress where the ritual is taking place. The force that can hold the devices will be able to either maintain or bring down the wards protecting the ritual from daemonic interference.



Meanwhile, the ancient Eldar fortress is not what it once was, but still will be where the final fate of the Elendil Thrakul, and indeed the entire sector, is decided.

Yhtlif Mucs, Prophet of Plague, and chosen of Gentukama, bridled at the presence of the Slaanesh agents who had appeared with him as he had breached the barriers surrounding the Elendil Thrakul. The creatures tittered, as was their wont, and assured him they were only there for the souls of the Eldar….but where Slaanesh scampered, could their ally of Tzeentch be far behind? Yhtlif didn’t like that idea much, still, he had a purpose to fulfill. Hefting his rust coated blade he began striding forward through the decaying and crumbling Eldar fortress, he would find the farseer, rip her head from her shoulders, and bathe the Thrakul with her blood as he wedged the access gate open.

Then…then the true fun would begin.


Yhtlif stalks forward, some of his plague zombies in tow.


But in the shadows lurks an Imperial Assassin, the Callidus readying her weapons as she considers the foe.


Inquisitor Luthor and his retinue arrange themselves around the Elendil Thrakul, supported by the Immortal Host Chaplain and The Allied 1st Mechanicus agents.


“You’ll be safe in here,” Nero helped Ecatarina bunker down in the lee of a massive sculpture as he drew his guns. “Just keep your head down and leave the rest to us.”

“None of us are safe,” she offered in a soft whisper, her pale eyes seeming to gleam with an inner light, “and the danger is already here.”


“Danger, you don’t say?”
Harry decides that the whole ‘hiding behind a large piece of stone’ plan isn’t a shabby one.


Farseer Diyneer falls into a trance as around her the Eldar and Space Marines take up defensive positions.


Ghul’katcha and the Dark Kin take a more…oblique defensive posture.


Miore’ and another batch of plague zombies appear, heading towards the Farseer and her defenders.


In a surprise move, Ssecxe and his plague zombies appear betwixt and between the two positions, eagerly looking for blood.


Back on the hidden planet, Ork and Chaos forces arrive en masse, swarming over the elder webway devices as they prepare for the coming of their daemonic support.


The Death Guard, once again, are using Ork mercenaries to bolster their attack.


“Dig on in ladz, we’re gunna be ‘ere fer a’while!” The boyz take up position by the Webway device.


The Immortal Host, led by multiple librarians and their Chapter Master, arrive even as a group of plague zombies are heading towards the final webway device.

“Two squads, stand and hold here, the rest, let’s cleanse these hills of Chaos taint!”


The zombies seem unafraid of the threat of the approaching Imperials.

The moment seems to stretch out, as though the universe itself is taking a breath of readiness...and then all hell breaks loose.

Ssecxe lurches forward, the plague zombies at his heels.
“Incoming threat!” Arbites Hassig shouts out a warning to her fellow acolytes as she begins firing, her solid slug pistol seeming to do no more than amuse the oncoming Chaos champion. Next to her the Cawdor ganger lets out loud bellows with his boltgun as he shouts out catechisms to The Emperor to guide his aim.


“The Great Enemy is here!” Gilgard’s voice is calmer than he feels as he announces his sighting of the enemy. He raises his rifle, “fight well, Lothfalas.”

“Battle with honor, Gilgard,” his friend replies, drawing his dire sword, “I am pleased to have you at my side in this matter.”


Ssecxe springs forward on his slithery coils, his sword flashing as he engages the two Inquisitorial agents.


His blade finds an easy hole in the defense of the Cawdor ganger, and the zombies do their job in beating down the ex-Arbirtes. Already two defenders have fallen.


“Gilgard, beware!” Lothfalas elbowed his friend aside as Mirore’ came at them. Gilgard watched as his friend crossed blades with the deadly dancer once, twice, but on the third pass she cut him down, her blades tearing through his armor.

“Lothfalas!”

“…protect…farseer…till last…” Lothfalas fell, his soul stone twinkling as Mirore’ cackled in glee and reached for it.


“You shall not profane his stone,” stated Lady Aine as she drew her blade and rushed forward, appearing from the shadows behind her came the Dark Eldar, the Incubus grim and focused, the two sisters laughing in glee.

“For the Emperor!” Kilij advanced as well, though his steps were befuddled by the twisting gyrations of the Slaanesh daemon.

“This time, she is mine,” announced Aine as she gestured for Zak to stand back. The Incubus nodded as the Radiant Scorpion challenged the Dancer. “I shall send you back to the Warp in pieces!”

“Such sweet promises, and this only our second date,” Mirore’ laughed as she sprang to the attack.
Her amusement was to be short lived, however, as Lady Aine mercilessly cut her down, crushing her skull in the vise-like grip of her scorpion’s claw in revenge for the fallen Dire Avenger Exarch.


“Kill the daemon! The Emperor knows no pity, no remorse, no mercy!”
“Aye!” The Imperial Priest almost seemed thrilled at the Chaplain’s every word, “aye, let the red blood be spilt to sanctify this beast!”
It was unclear if the others shared their companion’s zeal, but all of them advanced, their blades gleaming as they overwhelmed Ssecxe by sheer weight of numbers, the Chaplain striking the final blow.

“I purge you in death, may you know no peace, and never bask in His radiance, but instead suffer a thousand deaths for every heretical second of your countless lifetimes!”


The Imperial Assassin strikes! She tore into Yhtlif’s flank in a surprise attack, gunning down some zombies before engaging him with her Phase Sword.


On the planet the Chaotic forces continue their advance.


Terminators and Tactical squads gun down the plague zombies around the webway device.


But Chaotic forces still hold the midfield.


Terminators drop in along the rear hill, looking to disrupt Chaos’ lines.


Others prepare to lay waste to the Ork supporters.


The zombies of Nurgle prove resilient even as their Ork allies move in to join the fun.


A scope of how many Terminators teleported into the Chaos lines.


The Obliterator’s view – ample target saturation!


Despite Chaos’ excellent effort in holding multiple Webways, only a small squad of daemons manage to pierce the wards around the fortress, those belonging to Tzeentch, the Great Deceiver clearly has designs on the Elendil Thrakul still as well. The Horrors quickly began chanting, widening the rift and summoning through more of their kind.


“Ah, it is good to hunt again.” Ghul’katcha’s cheeks are ever so lightly flushed with color as she sprinted along the walkway and sprang off the balcony to land down in the gardens, having spotted the motion of the Callidus’ assault on Yhtlif. Her huskblade crackled with foul energies as she advanced into the melee, a cold smile on her face.


“Daemons!”
Inquisitor Luthor advanced, spraying flame from his ancient rifle into the infested building. Pontius moved up alongside him, adding more fuel to the fire as other agents fired their weapons through the windows, trying to down any daemon they could see.


“Guns at da ready, fire when ya can see da whites of dere eyes, or da grey of dere armor, or, really, just fire at whatever, let’s dakka da lot!”


And that’s how Grots dakka!


The Grots put up a surprisingly impressive fight, their small arms fire finding a way to punch through even the sturdy Tactical Dreadnaught Armor of the Immortal Host. (I predict more glowing crystal slag bases in Marcus’ future )


Heldrakes appear, unleashing gouts of flame across the hills, doing massive damage to the Immortal Host defenders as they roasted inside their own battle armor.


“Hold the line, we cannot let the xenos tech fall to Chaos! We are Unforgiven and we shall never falter again!”


The advancing bikers duck their heads low, counting on speed to see them through the walls of fire rising up across the battlefield.


“Pardon me, fair lady,” Paget squeezed into the small hiding place with Lady Ecatarina, “but…ah, with Mr. Jaxx gone perhaps it would be safest for you if I stood vigil here a while.” And, he mused, safer for me as well, not to mention, maybe the dear lady might look fondly upon a gruff broad shouldered fellow with fine whiskers, ah, Harry m’boy, you’re a clever one!


Theolonious nurses his wounds, he had engaged the Slaanesh champion in a duel, and though his skill with sword and shield had protected his companions, it had left him wounded. Dolan, the Priest, clapped him on the shoulder as they fell into defensive positions again. “Fear not, I am sure that was all Chaos had in them!”


“One at a time, or both together, I’ll kill you all!”
“The only way I’m going to die is if you get me to laugh myself to death at your belief you have any chance at all.” Ghul’katcha sprang into the air, landing lightly on Yhtlif’s back before sinking her huskblade down between the joint in his armor where the backplate met his neck. The Chaos Champion howled as he stumbled to one knee and then fell to the ground. Ghul’katcha smirked as she raised her soul trap to claim his essence for further pleasures, but the sorcerer had clearly prepared for this eventuality and his soul escaped her. “Annoying,” she hissed, offended that a plaything had eluded her grasp.


Another rift opened, this time releasing some Screamers of Tzeentch into the complex.


“Oi, there are no tanks ta krump!”
“Let’s shoot dem beakies den, dey are wearin’ enuff armor to sorta be, like, y’know, armored tanks or sumfink!”
The Tankbustas unleash a wave of rokkits into the nearby Terminator squad, the questionable quality of the weapons is alleviated by the sheer numbers, and many Terminators fall.


Ork warbikes rush forward, firing upon other Terminators, defending their hold of the central webway device.


“We’re ‘ere ta rokk and to stomp face, and me speakers just broke when I threw dem at yer face!”


The Immortal Host bikes move up to support their comrades.


1st Company Terminators secure the hill and hold this webway device against all comers.


Obliterators occupying the high ground unleash punishing fire down on the battlefield, ensuring Chaos has fire superiority.


The Ork warboss and his biker mob appear to have secured the center point.


But there are more terminators still on their way, weapons at the ready.


The Gray Knights advance, firing upon the bikers.


Firing flamers into the truck, the Immortal Host follows up by ripping I to pieces with their power fists, leaving the few surviving tankbustas a little bewildered.


The Marine Bikers charge into the weakened bike mob, in a vicious battle they barely manage to overcome the weakened warboss.


A job well done, but there are still many Chaos threats on the table.


“Beware!” The Inquisition acolytes dive for cover as the Screamers rip through their position, trying to tear them apart.


Brizelya has been off on her own, hunting down Pink Horrors and ripping them to pieces.


“Stick together,” Luthor orders his men in a steely tone of voice, “we can overcome this.”
“I shall sing of the Emperor’s Hatred more,” bellowed the Chaplain as he led the charge in to deal with the Screamers, “that will show us the way!”


The Screamers are torn to pieces and the Elendil Thrakul remains protected as they once more spread out to secure it.


What Chaos effort could pierce these lines?


*Vorp!*
Good answer, Chaos, good answer.


Harry eyeballs the appearing daemon prince and tries very hard not to mewl like a girl in front of the ladies.


Nero spins around, readying his splinter pistols but is caught by blasts of witchfire from a hidden squad of Pink Horrors. He snarls in pain and falls to the ground, motionless.


The Commissork and his grots have cleaned off the hill on their end of the battlefield, and the Chaos Lord and his Spawn gambol past them, hunting down other threats.


The Cultists still hold the center point.


But the bikes and Gray Knights threaten that position.


The Chaos Lord’s focus, however, is on the squad of Terminators ripping apart the Ork tankbustas.


Sensing a weakness in the defenses, a large hole is torn, more Screamers and Horrors appear, as well as a towering figure in the panoply of the Emperor’s Children. Lieutenant Eppledorfer screamed in a mixture of bewilderment and terror at the sight of him, and even the Towering Donal, Priest of the Imperial creed found his hyms catching in his throat.


More Horrors appear on the field.


Screamers hiss through the air, babbling madness.


“Bugger my life,” sighed Harry as he raised his laspistol. Like all the others, he was scared spitless, but, unlike them, he’d had a lot more practice with the condition, and he always figured it didn’t hurt to t least shoot at the oncoming death a bit to see if, maybe, that would work. His shot didn’t even mar the polish on the fine purple armor, but it did catch everyone’s attention.


“Yes! Commander Paget shows the way, to arms, to battle!” The Chaplain roared as he fired his plasma pistol as well, and soon all of the warband was firing upon the figure. Rushing up out of the shadows came the Callidus assassin and Ghul’katcha Maerett, their lades at the ready as they moved in to help.


Brizelya continued hunting through the warrens of the ruined fortress, finding more Pink Horrors to play with, laughing in glee as she tore them to pieces.


The battle is joined as they attempt to overcome their foe via strength in numbers.


Meanwhile the Chaos Lord on bike destroys more of the Immortal Host, his power growing with every champion he fells as his body mutates with the blessings of Chaos. The spawn-star is going to town.


That seems like a potential problem, oh, let’s toss some of the bike star into the Grey Knight Termie squad. Hey, daemons, try not to wet yourselves in terror.


The Heldrakes withdraw to the safety of their lines.


The Imperium is pressing their advantage, threatening the second objective.


The Grey Knights advance alone, and unafraid.


The Chaos Lord shouts out threats.


More Pink Horrors appear, though they are now having a harder time activating their powers, Brizelya’s hunting operation having culled their numbers.


The Fulgrim daemon rips the assassin apart as the others continue to battle him the first daemon prince leaps into the fray as well. Dolan Harner, Priest of the Imperial Church meets the charge headlong, singing hymns of defense he manages to singlehandedly hold the daemon at bay.

“We need everyone in that battle,” notes Ecatarina. Harry Paget darkly noted that she wasn’t exactly leaping to join the fray herself…though he supposed in her defense she didn’t even have a laspistol. He saw the crazed female Dark Eldar approaching on her sky surfboard device, and also the Inquisitor engaged in mortal battle and figured…screw that for a box of peaches! He couldn’t retreat bback, as that way was infested with daemons, and he couldn’t cut towards the Farseer, because doubtless the daemons would be dealing with that next. No, the only possible exit was straight ahead, if he could get around the scrum fighting around the daemon prince he could manage to make his way back to the portal, doubtless with a brave and sad story about the last defense, and then be allowed to withdraw with the Immortal Host when they were forced to leave the planet behind.

Harry gripped his laspistol tightly, drew his chainsword, and dashed forward, shouting incoherent Imperial jibber-jabber and firing his pistol in the air. It was a perfect plan, all he had to do was look like he was attacking, slip around the outer edge of the combat, and then he’d be home free!


As one of the daemon princes was battering Luthor the Inquisitor down it turned suddenly, hurling the Inquisitor aside like a ragdoll and sending the man and all his heavy armor and wargear smashing into Harry, knocking him senseless. With a grunt he was tossed free of the combat to sprawl on the ground.

“Puny mon’keigh lackspittles, let me show you how to kill a god!” Brizelya charged in, her glaive piercing deep into the body of one of the daemons. The daemon howled in pain and Brizelya roared in glee from the orgasmic rush of his agony. “We shall see who feasts on what this day, wretch,” she laughed.

“Harry!” Linda Eppledorfer gripped her power maul with both hands and turned on the Fulgrim creature. “In the Emperor’s name, you shall pay for that!” Sure of her faith and her fury, she did what she always did, and charged, smashing the creature hard in the face even as Ghul’katcha was stabbing it with her huskblade. With a roar Fulgrim erupted in flames, his shape melting away to reveal a daemon prince of Tzeentch before he disappeared in a flash of smoke.

The wounded and dead lay sprawled around the battlefield.


“You, girl, you fight with the true spirit of The Emperor,” announced the Chaplain.
“Aye, that you do,” Ghul’katcha sneered coldly, “come between me and my prey like that again though, and I will allow you to discover what true agony is about.”
“Bah! Sister, if you allow a callow dog like that to steal your kill, you are deserving of no fear at all,” Brizelya bawled in humor as her sister’s glare turned murderously icy.


The uneasy alliance holding for now, those who can still stand take up defensive positions around the Elendil Thrakul once more.


“It…is finished.”
Diyneer’s voice was weak, but her words firm. Flashes of light spread from her hands and the impossible fractals of the Thrakul began to spin and oscillate.
“What have you done?” Kilij glanced uneasily around him as the very fortress seemed to start to collapse in on itself.
“I have sealed this doorway with the Thrakul on the inside, meaning the key is once more safe from the predations of Chaos.” Diyneer turned to face him. “The only casualty is this structure, for the space it occupies will soon cease to even exist in a manner your mind can comprehend.
“That seems unwise while we stand here,” noted Kilij quickly.
“Then perhaps we should stand elsewhere,” Diyneer’s eyes flared.


The victors appeared back at their starting point, by the ancient Webway devices.


The Obliterators groan out warnings to their fellows as the Chaos forces sense their loss. The very air seems to thicken as the vast Dragon’s Eye warp distortion begins to slowly close, sapping the strength from the Chaotic warriors.


The Grey Knights and Immortal Host push their advantage as the enemy flees before them.

The forces of Chaos withdraw in disarray.

The Imperium and Eldar win!

Immortal Host/Eldar MVP
The Librarian on Bike got a lot of attention, doing a solid job in sucking away Nurgle and Ork toughness to allow his fellows to shoot apart the enemy easier and bouncing around between squads to avoid being glibbed.

Brizelya might also deserve a shout out, as I think of any model in the game she had the most kills, wiping out easily around 15 Pink Horrors by herself, not to mention scoring a big assisted kill on a daemon prince.

Immortal Host/Eldar WTF
My big vote would be Marcus’ Termie saves…which from what I understand were pretty embarrassing for a few turns. He did specifically wish to call out the Deathwing, who basically accomplished nothing and then died to Grots – y’know, as the finest warriors in a Chapter are wont to do!

Potential follow up was me letting a big load of my points sit guarding Diyneer while the rest of my army was being chewed to pieces fighting daemons they could barely oppose. Thankfully the DE showing up helped out a lot, but my desire to place the models with a ‘fluff concept’ made some sense…but I should have had a heavier hitter over by the Thrakul. I was just worried that Diyneer would be the easier win option for Chaos and guarded her overly so – so much that Chaos decided not to even bother with her.


Chaos/Ork MVP

Probably that Ork Warboss and his bikers, they did some serious work and really controlled their section of the board, which paired with how bad things went or the DSing Termies, basically locked down the Imperium for the bulk of the game. Also, though his dice overall were quite terrible, the saves done by the Fulgrim model (a counts as Tzeentch Prince with re-rollable saves in actuality) were out of control. I was certain I could kill him in the initial rush and probably handed him an odd ten wounds to save. He made every single one.

Chaos/Ork WTF

I’d have to toss this at the reserve rolls for the Kill Team table. During the most vital part of the game, with a +2 to his roll consistently, he managed a result of 3, 4, and 5 for the first three reserve rolls. Great for me, terrible for him. Yes, he did eventually get some good rolls, but by that point the tide was strongly in my favor as he had lost almost everything and was just having to hurl stuff at me and hope as opposed to being able to support an ongoing assault. The extra time I had to react to his princes really saved my bacon as I was able to overwhelm them by raw number of attacks without worrying about any other support elements helping them out.

“Huh, whuzzit?”

Harry Paget woke up with his vision filled by an expansive treasure trove of bountiful flesh squeezed into a top that was barely holding it together. If this was the afterlife he supposed he shouldn’t have worried so much about keeping his skin intact all these years! He paused a bit, considering, now that he thought about it, that he hadn’t expected to have such a headache in the afterlife. This thought led him to the depressing realization that this wasn’t the afterlife, but paired with an elation that, well, this wasn’t the afterlife.

“Sir Paget, you’re awake!” The bountiful flesh mounds shifted as Linda Eppledorfer leaned down, her bright and cherubic face stained with soot and splattered with blood. She smiled. “The Emperor sees fit to protect his servants in all things, praise his name!”

“Yes, quite,” Harry smiled as he sat up and peered around. There appeared to be…a bit of a celebration going on. “It’s over…we…won?”

“Of course we won, for the hate and power of the Emperor filled us with the fury to smite our foes!” Linda squealed in glee, and nearby a towering Chaplain nodded his head sagely at her conclusions. Buggered fanatics all, thought Harry with a sigh as he wormed his way to his feet. He didn’t mind having his adjutant squirm all over him, but suspected that her religious zeal wouldn’t manage to translate into the type of zeal he rather preferred after surviving another madcap suicide mission that he, through no fault of his own, had been forced to endure.

The party was an odd thing to be certain. The Immortal Host stood around, looking as grim and impassive as only the genetically transformed warrior-monks could look. It made Harry fairly certain that the rumors he had heard about their meat and veggies had to be true. The Inquisitorial warband was doing it more in style, having broken out the drinks and toasting to their survival whilst mourning those who had been lost. The Eldar were a mixed bag, the ones in the jauntily colored armor all seemed happy, but with tinges of sadness and control to their celebrations. Conversely, the ones in the dark and spikey armor appeared to just be warming up and were already starting to do things that Harry was fairly certain were illegal even on the most rowdy pleasure worlds he had visited.

“There he is!” Luthor Dominatus approached, the wizened Inquisitor’s normally stern face bearing a look of mixed pain from his wounds, and pleasure at the victory. Trailing along in his wake came Nero Jaxx, his middle wrapped in bandages from the brutal wounds he had received, the thin slip of a girl, Ecatarina, walking alongside of him to provide support. Harry sighed wistfully at the looks the pale beauty tossed Nero’s way when he wasn’t looking, some idiot buggers get all the luck, he supposed. “Commander Paget, I must say I am surprised!”

“Surprised, sir?” Harry swallowed nervously.

“Aye, in our travels together I had begun to suspect that you were little more than an inflated rumor. A gadfly and coward propped up by hearsay and his own false braggadocio. In fact,” Luthor’s wrinkled and blood spattered face twisted up in an obscene grimace that it took Harry a moment to realize was supposed to be a friendly smile and a wink, “I was almost planning to have you summarily executed upon the completion of the mission.”

“You-“ Harry gulped for air.

“Ha!” Luthor slapped his shoulder, “but that was before I heard about how, when the daemon was about to rip me to shreds, you leapt into the battle and single handedly tore me from his grasp, saving my life. For a man armed only with a laspistol and a chainsword to engage a daemon prince? No, no, this is not a coward, it is I who owe you, not just my life, but an apology for ever doubting your bravery. Those stories? Hah! They likely fail to live up to half of the truth, eh?”

“Well…” Harry considered the options in front of him which, as far as he could tell, equaled execution or attending a rather interesting party. “Really it’s the lads who I couldn’t save that need the remembering, I reckon, all I did is what any one of them would have done.” That was the way, Harry smiled softly and tried to look shy about the praise, you just try to downplay yourself, and they’ll build the story ever higher. By the time word reached the fleet, he would have slain half a dozen daemons as he waded through the melee to smite a daemon prince or two to save the Inquisitor.

“You are one of the good ones,” Luthor nodded sagely and offered that horrid wink again. “Well, drink lad, eat and be merry, there will be enough work for us in the days to come, but at this point we can celebrate a task well accomplished.” He handed Harry a glass of some sparkling beverage and raised his own glass. “To Commander Harry Paget, a True Hero of The Imperium!”

“Here, here!” More glasses were raised. Harry managed to meet the eyes of that little wiry strawberry blonde ship menial as well, and she blushed as she met his gaze.

“Here, here,” said Harry quietly as he smiled to himself. After all, what point being a hero if you didn’t get to appreciate some of the nice side benefits now and again?

===========================


Inquisitor Delenthos, Grandmaster of the Ordos Historicus Veritus glanced up at a small light on the wall of his chambers, drooping eyebrows nettling in unease. The light, and an alarm, was to be triggered as a warning of any breach of the defenses of his hidden headquarters. For half a moment he had thought he had seen the light flicker. He tapped his communicator and was answered immediately by one of his aides on the bridge.

“Is anything strange happening?” Delenthos’ ship had been making full burn to escape the Talf asteroid belt so that they could jump out of system. He was fairly certain his tracks had been covered, but it was best not to act too certain of that.

“We did just receive a message from the Astropaths, it was directed to you and…was rather short.”

“Send it through.” A few lights flickered on his desk’s control panel, and a spindle began dancing over a spool of paper as it printed out the message. He tore off the small slip that it produced and frowned as he read it.

It was from Chapter Master Azamerac of the Immortal Host.
It was four words long.
‘The Compact is Over.’

Delenthos read the words a few time, and then frowned as he glanced up at the warning light that he was so sure had flickered. He stood up, exhaust pots on his life support armor wheezing as he stomped out into his main chambers and over to his weapons locker. The chamber was inky dark, but he knew his way well enough to open the locker and draw forth a deadly needle gun.

“I can’t imagine you’ll need that.”

The words had been spoken in the Eldar tongue, which Delenthos knew well enough. He spun around. There, lounging on one of the luxurious couches in his room was an elegant Eldar female. Her skin was pale and unnatural, her features perfect and timeless, though holding of a sharp edged undertone that left them more frightening than beautiful. Her robes and gown were of the finest manufacture, and included elegant pieces of battle armor worked into them so artistically that it took him a moment to realize she was dressed for war, not for sitting casually upon a satin divan sipping wine, as she was currently doing.

He raised the needle gun.

“Zak?” The woman spoke the word softly. A darkly armored figure wearing a grinning rictus skull mask stepped forth from the shadows, his weapon snapping through the air in a blur, the needle gun was split in twain. As it clattered to the floor the skull faced killer stepped back quietly to his position guarding the door.

“Who are you that dares to do this?” His question snarled out of his throat as he clenched his fists tightly. The woman looked bored as she glanced over her shoulder to a shape skulking in the shadows.

“Well?”

“His eyes are boring.” The shape spoke in an odd lilting voice, seeming almost child-like, as though lost in a dream world of her own making. The voice belonged to a horrid sight though, an Eldar who had clearly had strange operations performed upon her. Extra limbs of flesh had been grafted to her spine, one of her arms had been replaced by a massive metallic limb bristling with blades and injection devices. Her shadowed eyesockets betrayed no clue of what she was looking at, but she shrugged at him. “He bores me, give him to Brizelya.”

“Now, now,” the cold faced woman shook her finger, “I received the distinct impression from Azamerac that if he had wanted someone like Brizelya to handle it then he wouldn’t have talked to us.”

“Azamerac?” Delenthos stepped forward, “whatever that befuddled fool offered you, I will triple it!”

The strange bald one simply shrugged as though that was an even more boring thought. But the elegant cold one’s lavender eyes flickered as she considered him, her lips pulling up into a wicked smile. “He promised me the name of the man who had arranged the capture and detention of Diyneer, and whose actions led to the death of the Dire Avenger Lothfalas.”

“What?”

“He also seemed to consider you rather guilty of getting many of his men slain, and causing widespread suffering and death across this sub-sector. I don’t recall how many mon’keigh he claimed died, but he seemed quite focused on the number for some reason. Do you recall, Kirst?” She glanced at the bald female who was currently exploring a book she had plucked off one of Delenthos’ bookshelves detailing some of the most horrid and banned tortures of the Inquisition. She was giggling at it and didn’t seem to hear the question. “No, I didn’t think so,” the elegant one shrugged a shoulder demurely as she lifted her empty wineglass slightly, an armored warrior slipping out of the shadows to quickly refill her glass. “But I do remember the one dead Eldar. He was a fool, a noble and deluded shell of what the True Kin are, just a Craftworld scum, really.”

“But he was Eldarith,” said a grim voice as two more figures stepped forward. Both wore the armor of the Craftworld sect of Eldar, one a female, the other a male. “He was also my friend,” finished the male as he pointed at Delenthos, “and you caused his death.”

“More than that,” offered the female in farseer garb, “you toyed with matters beyond your comprehension. Your greed for the Thrakul and the access to the gate it offered blinded you to the actions you took where you almost let it fall to the hands of the Great Enemy.”

“And we never would have even known it was you,” snarled the male, “if not for Azamerac.”

“Indeed,” laughed the cold female as she took a long draught of her wine, “he was almost insistant on letting us know your name…and location.”

“Please,” Delenthos smiled amicably, “I admit and apologize for my wrong doing, but I am certain we can come to a mutually acceptable agreement that will benefit us both. I am in a position of high power, and-“

“No,” The Farseer’s voice was filled with quiet outrage. “You have no remorse in your soul. I just needed to see that.” She turned away, the male Craftworlder following her. “He is all yours,” she announced to the other Eldar in the room as the two of them walked away.

“As though there was ever any doubt,” smirked the elegant woman. She glanced at the bald one again, “I am sure that you could at least do something interesting with the suit, I understand he wishes to prolong his life and it serves to do as such.”

“A prolonged life? Prolonged. Prolonged to such a degree that madness can set in, the mon’keigh soul, so fragile, it is unaware of the price of eternity. I have seen them, they try to stretch it out, stretch until it snaps, it is funny in a way, and sad in another, and that makes it funny again.” The bald woman’s voice remained monotone, but she seemed to be looking at him again, suddenly her thin lips quirked slightly in the smallest of smiles. “He is afraid, it makes his little boring eyes come alive. Alive eyes, it is a good joke. I want him now.”

“As though there was ever any doubt,” offered the elegant one as she stood up again. “Zak, let Brizelya know she can play with the rest of the ship, but bring the Inquisitor with us. He so wished to walk the Webway, I suspect he will enjoy the chance to see its grandest city.”

“Oh,” sighed the bald one, “that is worrisome, sometimes after they see it they try to claw their eyes out, it ruins them.” She frowned slightly but then shrugged. “We simply must do something about the hands on the way there, this is true.”

Delenthos screamed.

This just seemed to please his captors.