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The cultists ran forwards, weathering the hail of bullets for two turns, miraculously only a few of the brotherhood fell as many of the bullets missed or were miraculously saved.

They charged on the third turn, through the rubble of the ruined city at the assault terminators who had struck in their path. Vraks challenged the cobalt captain and smote his ruin upon the ground before he could swing his thunderhammer.

The Gods of Chaos gestured with contempt and bestowed upon Vraks additional strength. The terminators all fell in the same melee at the same time.

Turn four and the brotherhood immediately charged the next enemy, a tactical squad. Vraks bellowed a challenge and was met in battle by another cobalt champion. The captain swung his powersword thrice times but missed each time. Vraks ducked and plunged his blade between armour segments, piercing the captains hearts. Some brothers fell, bringing their numbers to around 18. The Gods of chaos, amused bestowed upon Vraks an extra attack.

Turn five and the brotherhood were set upon by the Guard allies in the apocalypse game. Lasgun fire spanked off armour and ruin as the cultists charged. Many brothers were mown down by a round of shooting followed by overwatch. Still, Vraks and four others made it to their lines.


Covered in gore with sword raised above his head, Vraks bellowed one more challenge. He was met by the Commissar. They were well matched, the commissar saving blows while Vraks was too quick (or the commisar too clumsy) to be struck. Finally though Vraks struck a fatal blow.

The commissar fell and two dice fell alongside him. The first landed on 6, the second bounced off the terrain, and again, hit some rubble and balanced on a corner before finally.... slowly... coming to rest on... a 6.



The dust spiralled upwards around Vraks as he was lifted into the air. With the sound of a thousand orgasming nerds his form exploded and reformed into a mighty Daemon Prince of Tzeentch. The screams of ecstasy interrupted the tournament in Warhammer World.