Storm of Chaos vs End Times

Greetings fellow wargamers and hobbyists, and welcome to the twilight zone…noo-nee-noo-noo, noo-nee-noo-noo…

A very quick post today, touching on a subject that is big in the Games Workshop/Warhammer news at the moment – The End Times.

I am often inspired to type up a blog post by comments that I hear on the many podcasts I enjoy, and only this morning I was listening to The Dwellers Below discussing The End Times and differences between this and the old Storm of Chaos. They chatted about whether they thought the story being developed in the End Times would stick and officially change the setting of the Warhammer game, or whether it may all just disappear in a few months as if it had never been, just like the Storm of Chaos did.

The thoughts I have had since have been about what makes these two events fundamentally different, and therefore very difficult to compare fairly in a ‘like-for-like’ manner.

VS

Comparison no. 1

The Dwellers commented that the Storm of Chaos mainly existed online and in White Dwarf at the time of the event, whereas The End Times are fully supported by books. This may have been an ‘in-the-moment’ oversight by the Dwellers, who I typically find to be very knowledgeable, but the Storm of Chaos did have its own book, which detailed the build up to the events, new army lists and scenarios to be played. Without knowing more about what the guys meant, it’s hard to be definitive in my conclusion, but I think it’s possible that they may have meant that the Storm of Chaos was not supported by books as it progressed in the way that The End Times has.

Comparison no. 2

Game Rules. The End Times has introduced not only characters and rules for those characters to be used in game – which the Storm of Chaos also did – but much wider reaching additions and alterations to the main game rules, in particular the magic phase, and the degree to which armies have been combined to allow a vast variety of new unit and army combinations. This has allowed some lower tier armies to be combined with units from other force lists which either fill gaps in capability or boost the inherent strengths of the army, and has made some lesser used or underpowered armies far more playable.

Comparison no. 3

Plot arrangement. This aspect is what really clicked in my mind and made me want to address it in a blog post. A while back in one of my ‘Forging the Narrative’ series of posts, I raised the question of how you might arrange the narrative plot when organising a campaign – do you have the entire plot laid out in advance and allow the players to ‘play through’ the pre-determined story, or do you build up the story and then let the players take over from a certain point and determine the path of the conclusion for themselves based on their ‘in-game’ actions – wind it up and let it go?

This is in my opinion the single most profound difference between the Storm of Chaos (which was a worldwide campaign intended to be played to its conclusion by Warhammer Generals across the global community), and The End Times, which is in practice a set of source books which allow players to use rules in their own games set around the End Times events). This is also where the discussion ties back into my earlier Forging the Narrative post.

Games Workshop have seemingly decided to retain control (at least so far) of the plot development, rather than allowing the actions of the Warhammer community to dictate the development. When we compare this to the Storm of Chaos, this is quite possibly the reason that the Storm of Chaos went the way of the Dodo, because the way the story played out wasn’t what Games Workshop planned for or expected, and they had a hard time writing it out in a manner that players could believe and engage with. In other words, the well laid and well set up plan went somewhat awry, because the games that were played sent the campaign in rather a different direction.

I think that this was a good idea on the part of Games Workshop and their talented team of writers, and it’s also what has kept gamers hooked on the story as it has progressed, no matter how fantastical and unexpected the turn of events. With the number of well-known characters that have bitten the proverbial bullet as the story has gone on, and the way in which the relationships between races and nations has changed quite dramatically in some cases, the story so far is for me what I think GW would have wanted the Storm of Chaos to be if things had followed their grand plan, and then some.

Comparison no. 4

I would very much hope that people have already twigged this one, but I suppose that when I remember how many years it is since the Mild Breeze of Chaos blew out, it also reminds me how old I am.

The debate about The Storm of Chaos and The End Times needs to account for one rather significant piece of information, and this is something I mentioned as part of the last comparison:

The End Times is a vast and sprawling narrative with accompanying rules to allow gamers to play out battles using scenarios, special characters and rules all forming part of the release. In essence, although it is ongoing, it is a set of source books. It provides a setting and rules for playing out battles in the setting, or to actually re-fight key battled in the manner of a historical battle. The Storm of Chaos, in stark contrast, was a worldwide campaign, with all the associated implications – the story was built up, and then the gamers themselves were given the tools to go out and play out the action to a conclusion.

These are two very different formats and ways of running an event, particularly in the way the information is controlled by the ‘Games Master’ or Narrator (Games Workshop) and in the impact that the players are allowed to have on the development – in the case of The Storm of Chaos the impact of the players actions was huge (and relinquishing that control to the players is probably where things started to fall apart as far as the story was concerned), in The End Times the impact of the players actions doesn’t extend beyond depleting stocks of the wonderful books and models, and giving headaches to tournament organisers, for whom I have a degree of sympathy trying to deal with all the changes and uncertainty.

Anyway, before this quick post becomes a ramble, those are my brief thoughts about the differences between the two events. If you have any thoughts about the comparisons, or think I have either made too much of some points and not enough of others, feel free to drop me a line.



Thanks for reading…

Necromunda: Welcome to The Placids

Welcome wargamers. My esteemed club compatriot, Nick, over at the Burning Eye blog, is in the process of embarking on a foray into the Underhive on something of a Necromunda revival. Being as these games are outside the club gaming group, I don't feel like I'm trying to take over his bandwagon by posting some fluff I wrote a couple of years ago for the previous club I attended, to give us some context to our games.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Placids...

 

 

The Placids - Necromunda Hive Primus

Underhive Guidebook

The Placids is an area of the Underhive which is well and truly on the borderland between the Underhive and the long dark of the sump. The recent discovery of a number of untapped ore caverns and tech tombs, following a series of minor Hive Quakes in 997. M41, has led to something of a boom for this once shunned zone, as traders, Guilders, guns for hire and worse flock to the Placids in search of their fortune and, ultimately, their ticket to Hive City.

Several new settlements have sprung up, almost overnight it seems, and all the human detritus associated with a frontier town has followed, from the synth bars and brothels, to the workshops and slums, and as the uphive authorities are yet to establish a presence in the area, the law of the gun and the knife still prevail. Lets strap on our armour and flick our safeties off as we head into the Placids to take a closer look. Try not to look anyone dead in the eye, or if you can't help it, make sure you look damn mean! 

Heavenly Heights

‘The Placids' main town and first port of call for newcomers looking to stake a claim on the rich but risky pickings in the area, Heavenly Heights is the longest established and most developed of the Placids various settlements. The many bars, workshops and stores at Heavenly Heights make this town a thriving centre of activity, where someone could easily disappear, either deliberately or by ‘accident'. Gangs find unsuspecting marks on every street corner in Heavenly Heights, as they prey on those freshly arrived in town who have yet to learn who is in charge down here.

'Fresh meat' learn the rules pretty quick out here on the frontier, if they want to survive life in The Placids. Heavenly Heights also boasts the largest fighting pit for leagues in any direction, and some gangs specialise in providing fresh meat to Krank & Son's, who own the arena. Many are the newcomers to Heavenly Heights who have wandered down the wrong alley, only to wake up and find themselves locked in a cell under the pit alongside some truly unsavoury individuals, some more battle-borg than man. 

Sweet Street 

Sweet Street is the most notorious street in Heavenly Heights, and is the preferred hang out of many of the local gangs. This may be because it is the town's main centre of vice, and in Heavenly Heights, that's saying something. Every single building on Sweet Street is either a drinking house, a cat house or a Spook lounge, and some do all three. It is reputed that there is nothing that can't be obtained on Sweet Street, no pleasure that cannot be fulfilled, for the right price. It is even rumoured that the stories of Sweet Street have spread as far as the Spire, high above the Hive City, and that young nobles have paid visits to even the worst reputed holes on Sweet Street, disguised and accompanied by armed guards of course, though there is no evidence to support this and the rumours are strongly refuted by the authorities.

Sweet Street sees some of the worst violence in The Placids, as business owners invest heavily in security, and it's not uncommon for a dissatisfied patron, drunk on Wildsnake and high on Spook, to need to be taught to respect the House Rules. Feuds between businesses owned by rival gangs have seen many gunfights fought across the street and some businesses completely destroyed. This is not a place for anyone with a weak constitution. 

The Emporium 

Heavenly Heights has a large and chaotic trade quarter known as ‘The Emporium', and it is the most disorganised and labyrinthine mess of narrow alleys and multi level buildings of every description that you could possibly imagine. Of all the places in Heavenly Heights, the Emporium is the easiest place for a person to get completely lost unintentionally. Here there are stores of every kind, from guns smiths to food sellers to specialist tech traders to pet stores trading in the most unusual creatures you have ever seen. The centuries of pollution and toxic contamination trickling down through the mighty hive all the way down to the Underhive has given rise to mutated creatures of every description, some all teeth and bad temper which make great ‘guard-tooths', and others which are just downright disgusting.

Anyone who ever needs to obtain something especially rare or prohibited, or equally to get rid of such things, can find the right place somewhere in the Emporium, and for those in the know, the mess and tangle of the winding and criss-crossing ways is a map that can be read by certain signs, and there are treasures hidden in the multitudinous nooks and hidey holes that even their own owners have forgotten about. 

The Slip 

An unstable mountain of scree, metal mulch and general debris, which falls from waste chutes hundreds of meters above which come from the huge industrial sites at the base of the Hive City proper. A lucrative sideline in scrap items retrieved from The Slip has grown up around the mounds of refuse, for those who can find people stupid enough to brave the treacherous slopes to retrieve it for them!

The habit that has developed of gang members throwing enemy gangers off the top of the south side of this treacherous mountain, which is the most dangerous side, and in some areas is just a mass of sharp and twisted metal, has been dubbed ‘Giving someone the Slip', and frequently results in serious and even fatal injuries. 

The Steamers 

Throughout this whole area there are rich harvests of nutritious algae and fungi to be had. Unfortunately, this is due to the warm and moist conditions which prevail thanks to the presence of dozens of large and ancient steam release flues from a huge geothermal power generator below the surface of the ground. One wrong move and a person could be broiled alive by the random release of superheated steam, which no one thinks would be a pleasant way to go. 

Rook's Town 

Rook's Town is the last trade post before the toxic expanse of the Sump. This is where Gangs shop for essentials, where rumours of newly discovered riches are born, and Outlaws from the wrong side of the line conduct their affairs, though they never stay in town long enough to alert the authorities. Maybe just long enough to start some trouble though. The stores are not as grand or comprehensive here as those at Heavenly Heights, but all the important stuff can be found, like guns and ammo and spare parts for O-filters.

Rook's Town is also the place where rare tech finds discovered down below first see the dim light of what passes for day down in The Placids, and so there are many interested eyes in Rook's Town that are on the lookout for something ‘special', trawling the Techmeisters and  Guild Brokers for any jewels in the junk. Needless to say, such establishments are fortified and guarded by hired thugs and vicious guard hounds, so it's either a very foolish or very well armed gang that would try their luck. 

Tumbledown 

The ramshackle settlement of Tumbledown is where those who have reached the bottom rung of the ladder and dropped clean off end up. Only the dispossessed, the mad and the mutated make their homes here, because it's location is highly unstable, and minor tremors are commonplace in Tumbledown, causing the poorly constructed and ill maintained hovels to shake and ‘tumble down'.

The only cause anyone else has to come down here is if they are on the run from the law, from bounty hunters or from the Redemptionists, as a person can usually only be found in alleys and rat runs of Tumbledown if they want to be found. One thing that Tumbledown has accumulated an increasing number of mutants, and it may only be a matter of time before they decide they want to move to somewhere with a better postal code.   

Deadend

Deadend is a small outpost on the edge of a vast pit, and is the home of the Last Chance Saloon. There is nowhere to go after Deadend except down into the depths, where some choose to go, either to escape the law or to explore in search of untapped ore wells or tech tombs. Some of these expeditions actually return, though most empty handed and most do not return at all.

Occasionally a single survivor, ragged and bloody, will stumble from the darkness, raving about some terrible beast that haunts the deep places beyond the frontier, though most know well enough that the noxious fumes in the depths can cause vivid and terrifying hallucinations and the claims are considered nothing more than the fevered ravings of unhinged and dehydrated fools. Despite the bite marks.  

The Underspire

At the centre of the ‘Frying Pan' behind a high wall, defended by armed guards and razor wire, is the Underspire. This is the home of the Guild down here in The Placids. In The Placids, just like everywhere else in the Underhive, the Guild are a very influential part of society, controlling much of the movement of wealth in all its forms, and enforcing it's will with any means necessary. All new clams are, or should, be registered with the Guild, and it is the Guild that controls the movement of money and bulk goods from Hive City proper down into the Underhive and back.

The battle for survival in the Underhive is fought as much against the greed of the Guilders as against the inherent dangers of living in such an inhospitable place, and the fickle and self serving favour of the Guild can decide the fate of a person or a family or even a whole settlement as surely as a bullet. It is a very foolish or a very brave individual that does not pay the Guild it's due.

    

The Frying Pan

The Underspire towers high out of the centre of a waste area known as ‘The Frying Pan'. This area is essentially a plain made up of layers of granular silicate waste, which, due to the surrounding metals and the heavy magnetic properties of hidden ore seams below the surface, is constantly building up a charge of static electricity. This is far more dangerous that a simple snap or a minor shock. Due to the unique properties of The Frying Pan, discharges have been measured in the thousands of volts, and one wrong move out here can see a man blasted to hunks of charred flesh and fused metal in an instant.

The Guild have chosen this natural phenomenon as the location of their Underspire due to the deterrent presented by this formidable defence. The Guilders themselves have nothing to fear, usually anyway, as they travel across the plain aboard specially earthed hover sleds, which are designed to repel the static build up and allow them to cross The Frying Pan unhindered. Many have tried to cross by various means, tempted by the promise of wealth contained within the Underspire, but few have succeeded.

    

Down Below

 

In The Placids, ‘Down Below' means just that. The entire region is on the very edge of the Sump, and is one of the deepest areas of Underhive, and everything below The Placids is a dangerous wasteland that is almost entirely unmapped and unexplored. Old maps and schematics are useless, as Hive Quakes and Tremors cause the terrain to alter, sometimes becoming unrecognisable, and old tunnels and shafts become blocked or flooded.

If The Placids are on the Frontier, then Down Below is the darkness of the unknown void beyond. Some set off on expeditions Down Below in search of wealth or ore seams, but many find nothing but chem pits and mutants. Some do return with riches beyond their wildest dreams, so there are always those greedy or desperate enough to try their luck, but no-one would even consider attempting to settle Down Below, because they are entirely untamed and no one knows what may lurk in the darkness beyond the frontier. Once you're Down Below, you have all the ‘safety' and ‘comforts' of The Placids behind. Let's just hope it's not for good.

  

Daemon Falls

 

High, high above the Underhive, in the uppermost hab areas of the wealthy and powerful, there was an outflow pipe which carried all of the putrid, toxic filth and effluent of the Golden Spire district away and out of the side of the outer wall of Necromunda Hive. One day, Lord Gilderoy of House Ran Lo decided that to have the outflow exit less than one thousand yards away from his pleasure pad was too much to bear, and once his voice was raised in mild annoyance, the voices of all the other nobles of the Golden Spire district were added to his, and over the next five years, and at great expense in both money and the lives of the unfortunate engineers and labourers directed to the task, the entire waste flow was redirected down, down and yet still further down, until it exited somewhere inconsequential.

Unfortunately, that somewhere was at the very edge of The Placids, where a mighty torrent of sludge of a colour and aroma that utterly defy description, thunder down into a lake of excremental insanity. These are known as the Daemon Falls, mainly because of the smell, but also, and unknown to most right thinking citizens of The Placids, because the unique properties of the foul waste matter combined with the life extending regenerative baths that the nobles of the Golden Spire deludedly spend their wealth on, have given birth to something truly vile in the depths of that lake. It is not unknown for the foul sludge to vomit forth plague ridden corpses, which stumble around in a horrid semblance of life, giant mutated beasts, and even the spawn of Father Nurgle himself. No wonder the Daemon Falls aren't on the tour listings. 

 

Titan Station

 

Titan Station. Probably the closest thing The Placids has yet seen by way of civilization. Titan Station is the main arterial transit route between the Underhive areas of The Placids, and the higher regions of Underhive and the Hive City itself, and as such is the bottleneck at which the Law has chosen to exert its authority.

The Enforcers of Hive Necromunda, in conjunction with the Guilders, attempt to control the movement of both goods and people through Titan Station, giving both themselves and the populace a watered down notion of security and Hive authority, and allowing the Guilders to use exorbitant travel taxes to both increase their wealth and prevent those undesirables with insufficient funds from ever leaving the Underhive. In this way, they ensure that the wealth of those who have succeeded in bettering their position in the universe through backbreaking toil in the face of innumerable dangers is channelled up hive and into the hands of the Guild, while the downtrodden masses are kept firmly in the depths where they belong, by the authority of the shot cannon and the suppression maul.

The power of the Law may be almost mythical in the deeper areas of the Underhive, but at Titan Station, flaunt it at your direst peril.

  

Final Few Words

Now that you have been given the grand tour of The Placids, you are almost ready to venture out on your own. Don't forget the Rules of The Underhive. Never start a fight that you can't be sure of winning, never set foot outside the reach of the glow globes, and never drink out of a an unlabeled bottle, because there's no knowing where you might end up, or what you might be missing when and if you wake up! The very best of luck to you - you'll need it!

The Monster & The Giant

The Monster and the Giant – The Invasion of Talos VII

Talos VII Planetary Profile

Designation: Talos VII

Type: Deathworld

Tithe Grade: Tertius – Regimental tithes, Adamantium ore, Chem and Bio weapon research

Location: Talos System, Kharvaria Subsector, Invigila Sector, Ultima Segmentum

Satelites: 2, (Perseus - type 3, Bresais – Type 2)

Est. Population: 4.6 Billion

Status: Loyal

Overview of Talos VII

Some believe that the Imperial world of Talos VII was saved from destruction, that the planet was spared in the name of the Emperor of Mankind. Others believe that the people of Talos VII may yet be damned..............

Talos VII itself is part of a system of eleven giant planets which lies in the Invigila Sector, far to the Galactic East, in the Ultima Segmentum. It is a world of twilight, acrid fog seas, blasted wastelands and voracious continent spanning forests. It is a Deathworld, a world poisoned centuries ago by Xenos spore that writhes in agony and rebels against the corruption within. The people of Talos VII are proud and stoic, strong in both body and spirit, but they are grim of countenance, as though they carry the same pain deep within them that infects the heart of their home world. Talos VII is a world redeemed, saved from the brink, though at a cost which is yet to be fully realised.

Hive Fleet Scylla

In 774.M41, the Talos system was engulfed by a tendril of the Tyranid Hive Fleet designated ‘Scylla’, after the many headed monster of old Terran mythology thought to have been slain by the Emperor Himself.

At the time when the Hive Fleet entered the Talos system, the monitoring stations lying in the systems outer reaches were old and poorly maintained, and many had been abandoned millennia before. No signals were received by the Monitoring Servitors of Talos VII of what approached from the void. The Hive Fleet quickly bypassed the four outer planets, which were a combination of insubstantial gaseous giants or great airless rocks and supported none of the biological life that the Hive Mind craves for sustenance, and Scylla steadily approached the prime system world of Talos VII.

Talos was an isolated world, and few interstellar craft passed through the system, though it was one such vessel, the light transporter ‘Guiding Light’, which first brought word of the approaching Hive Fleet. Her Captain was much travelled, and, understanding the gravity of the situation, reported the dire news directly to Planetary Governor Alexandus himself.

Immediately, the order was given to prepare for war. Every military installation on the planet was brought to alert status, units were re-called from leave, munitions were allocated and oaths were sworn. Just as the final Planetary Defence Volunteers reported to barracks, the long range augars of the orbiting weapons platforms began picking up the incoming fleet, and few though they were, they prepared to commence firing, desperate to destroy as many Tyranid vessels as they could before they made orbit.

The orbital weapons platforms may have been ancient, but unlike the outer monitoring stations they were well maintained and heavily armed, and they destroyed a great number of Hive Ships with high energy beams and immense armour piercing explosive shells, cracking meters thick armoured shells and spilling the ships innards into the icy void. Despite the determination of their crews, the orbital defences were too few by far to halt the Hive Fleet, but, resolved to do their duty and inflict as much damage as they could on the approaching flood of ships, the crews of the defence platforms sealed themselves inside and kept firing until their ammunition was spent and capacitors overloaded. Great armoured Kraken assaulted the defence platforms, crushing them with mighty jaws or piercing their metal skins with razor sharp beaks, disgorging thousands of Tyranid creatures into the stations which overwhelmed the trapped crews within hours.

Slowly the Hive Fleet slipped into orbit above Talos VII, surrounding it with a sea of living vessels. As the transmissions from the orbiting platforms ceased, and the defenders below looked to the skies, the first mycetic spores began to fall, glowing hot as they plummeted ground wards through the atmosphere.

The Tyranid invasion of Talos VII lasted ninety three horrifying days, during which over four fifths of the population was slain and rendered down to feed the Hive Fleet. Tens of millions died in a visceral orgy of primal slaughter. By the thirtieth day, the rolling green grasslands, mist shrouded marshes and continent spanning forests were changed beyond recognition. The ancient fathomless lakes were transformed into bubbling seas of toxic murk, writhing with slashing tentacles and enraged bellows as the lakes ferocious denizens were poisoned by the alien spore infecting their habitats, and battled against ravenous Tyranid creatures in the depths. The year round snow upon the titanic sky scraping mountain ranges began to melt as the temperature rose with the choking of the atmosphere by alien spores and micro organisms, and the vast tracts of equatorial forests exploded in a chemically induced frenzy of growth intended to increase the volume of bio mass available for the Hive Fleet to consume, smothering settlements, arterial vehicular routes and major supply lines.

As the sky darkened and the heavens heaved and rolled with thunder and strangely coloured lightning, the war on the ground was raging. The Planetary Defence Regiments fought bravely, withdrawing to the mighty fortress cities of Talos VII which rose like mountains from the land. Here they could better defend the many thousands of refugees that had made the arduous journey from the rural areas to the cities as the first spores began to fall. Terrified men and women who were judged fit to bear arms were swiftly armed with what weapons were available, many of which were nothing more than converted tools, and pressed into service to bolster the inner defences of the cities. Thousands of street gang members from every territory arrived unbidden at the recruiting stations Their age old blood feuds and ancestral grudges set aside, they sewed service badges onto their clothing and swore binding blood oaths to defend their home cities to their last breath.

The backbone of the Talosian defence was to be the soldiers of six entire regiments of Talosian Light Infantry, and two of Talosian Armour, mustered for service across the stars. None could have foreseen that the blooding of these regiments would take place in the defence of their home world against such a terrible foe.

The vast swarms of Tyranid creatures numbering in the millions which flowed across the changing lands broke upon the huge bastions of Talos VII in endless waves of voracious scythed and clawed beasts. Those that looked out from the great plex-glass viewing occulus high in the fortress towers saw nothing but a tide of chitinous bodies crashing over and around everything, stretching as far as the eye could see, until the hordes were obscured by thick mists.

The gargantuan armoured weapon blisters which studded the kilometres high walls of the fortress cities spat forth enormous explosive shells and searing lasbeams as Macro Cannons and Turbo Lasers opened fire on the enemy. Wide mawed cannons would gout forth blazing chemical fire, scouring the approaches to the walls of enemy creatures, only for the vile Xenos to surge forward in even greater numbers, pouring between the scorched and blasted mounds of their own dead that they used as cover from the torrents of defensive fire.

The defenders of the bastion cities knew that they were trapped, and all contact had been lost with those caught outside the walls. With the huge influx of refugees from the settlements beyond the cities, provisions of food and water soon began to dwindle, and all supply routes had been cut save for the few brave pilots who, with the grace of the Emperor, managed to survive the frantic death runs from the upper landing platforms of one city to the next, dodging great winged Tyranid creatures that filled the skies, and bringing in what meagre supplies their limited holds could carry.

The ancient incoming aqua ducts had been contaminated with Tyranid spores and parasites, and across Talos VII thousands died in agonising convulsions as vile alien creatures exploded from within their wracked bodies before the order was given to seal all incoming pipelines. Even at those cities where the swarms had not besieged the walls, none that ventured out survived for long, as they became prey for roving packs of Tyranid warrior beasts. The limited numbers of armoured units that were far away from the cities at the training fields knew they were doomed, but courageously attacked the swarms where they could, heavy bolters and battle cannons spitting death and blasting gaping holes in the rushing hordes, but the enemies numbers were too great and the tanks ground to a halt amidst the sea of chitinous forms, scythe armed Carnifexes and Trygons tearing through their armoured flanks, and smaller rippers forcing their way through grills and vents to smother and choke the tanks engines with their own scorched bodies, or squeezing into crew compartments where crewmen were so confined that they stood no hope of defending themselves. Many poor crewmen died, choking on engine fumes or burned alive when their vehicles caught fire or were even devoured where they sat strapped into their seats, screaming as their blood and viscera pooled beneath them and showered their stations with gore.

The defenders of Talos truly believed the end had come when the ground vibrations caused by rampaging swarms of Tyranids were joined with a deeper shaking, and from the mists marched Hierodules and Hierophants, towering behemoths of bestial destruction armoured in meter thick armoured chitin shells and as large as the greatest Mechanicus constructs. The hulking Bio Titans strode through the storm of fire issuing from the wall emplacements, some falling to concentrated blasts, but those that reached the citadels struck the walls like living meteors, tearing the gun emplacements from the walls with their immense claws and bringing tonnes of stone and plasteel crashing down on the swarms which clamoured at the walls below. Where the Bio Titans breached the mighty walls, the swarms of assault beasts outside flooded through to slaughter the terrified defenders within. For the people of the cities that fell, it was as though the monsters of their darkest nightmares had come to claim them.

At the breaching of the walls of the northernmost fortress city of Kouris, perched upon a mighty cliff overlooking the broiling ocean, where the approach causeway was carpeted with the blasted carcasses of a million Tyranid creatures, swarms of scythe armed Hormogaunts and serpentine Ravenors flooded the tunnels and access ways, every corridor and every building until they could barely move for the press of chitinous bodies. Where they broke open store rooms and cellars and other makeshift strong points within which the terrified people had taken refuge, the butchery was horrific, and they had nowhere to run. Many went mad with stomach churning terror, and men turned their weapons on their families and then themselves rather than allow them to be taken by the Tyranids.

Far to the south, the ancient citadel, L’Havar, was decimated by a dozen or more Bio Titans which crashed through the plascrete walls and went on a furious rampage, demolishing walls and towers, habs and manufactoria with their titanic bulk, tearing down everything around them until all that was left was a mountain of smoking rubble, tens of thousands of humans and Tyranids alike crushed beneath the mounds of rockcrete and plasteel, or hopelessly trapped in creaking and flooded pockets beneath the ground, effluvia and alien parasites pouring in to devour them.

At the mountain fastness of Heavens Gate, a great many winged Harridans circled above the city, and from their cyst covered underbellies they disgorged great clouds of shrieking Gargoyles which swept down through the ceaseless anti-aircraft fire to smother the city. Though the air defences brought down great swathes of Tyranid monsters, and the blasted bodies of Gargoyles fell like rain and giant Harridans plummeted like chitinous meteors to crash into the buildings below, one by one the defences were silenced, their ammunition hoppers ringing empty or power couplings fused with the continuous fire, until the city was utterly choked with a sea of chittering Gargoyles and membranous wings and was devoured.

At Phyrros, out on the eastern plains, the beleaguered defenders retreated from the outer walls after Tyranid Bio-Titans swept them clear of defenders with great gushing torrents of organo-acids and corrosive bile. Those doused by these vile fluids died where they stood, screaming in agony until their throats sloughed away and their lungs dissolved, their bodies hissing as they burned until their legs gave way and plunged them into the liquid, their bubbling remains carried away with the toxic flow. The survivors retreated to the ancient and impregnable keep at the heart of the city and sealed themselves inside, in their desperation leaving thousands outside when there was no more room, trusting, praying that help would come. When the Imperial Scourging Teams opened up the keep several weeks later, they found a charnel house of horrors. Pict-records showed that broods of Lictors had managed to infiltrate the keep before it was sealed, and trapped in the darkness, terrified and with nowhere to run, the Lictors hunted the people through the narrow corridors and halls and butchered them one by one.

It was at the planetary capital, Talos Invictor, where the fighting was most desperate. Here, the difference between the Planetary Defence troops and the elite of Talosian Light Infantry regiments was plain. The entire strength of six infantry regiments (the 1^st, 5^th, 10^th, 11^th, 18^th, and 24^th) and two armoured regiments (the 3^rd and the 8^th) had dug in around the city in a ring of heavily fortified gun positions. Over twenty five thousand men and nearly 250 tanks all told, including a company of Shadowsword Super Heavy tanks, thus far kept in reserve to defend the Talosian capital, ready to defend the city.

As the assault began, and huge waves of Tyranid assault beasts bounded towards the Imperial lines, the infantry manned heavy weapon emplacements and dug in Leman Russ Battle Tanks opened up, taking a fierce toll on the enemy creatures. Time and again they swept the killing fields clear of shrieking and chittering Tyranid hordes, the pre-prepared crossfires of lasbeams and explosive shells hammering the approaches mercilessly. It was only where Bio-Titans and broods of Carnifexes led the assaults on the walls that the lines were sorely pressed. The Hierophants and Hierodules were engaged by the mighty Defence Laser ‘Spear of Righteousness’, from its housing high up on the Tower of Eternity, and by the Volcano Cannons of the three Shadowswords, and where they pierced the armoured carapaces of the Bio Titans, they cracked and split as their innards were superheated, and many were brought crashing to the ground.

In some places the Tyranids reached the outer defences, and here they were driven back by grim veterans wielding massed flame units. Where the largest assault beasts led the attacks, mighty Tyrgons and Mawlocs bursting up from beneath the cratered ground, and broods of raging Carnifexes crashing into the Talosian positions and scattering helpless Guardsmen like chaff, the line threatened to buckle under the horrific onslaught. Only the actions of noble officers and even individual troopers kept the enemy from tearing great holes in the lines as short ranged but deadly melta and plasma weapons were brought to bear, bringing the creatures down through sheer volume of fire backed by Talosian grit. Many names passed into the annals of regimental legend during those close and desperate engagements, as the brave men of Talos stared death in the face.

The battle for Talos Invictor was to turn at the positions where a concentration of Hive Tyrants led the assault: the approaches to the great western gate. Here the Tyrants led great numbers of Hormogaunts and Genestealers behind an impenetrable wedge of Carnifexes five ranks deep. Though many of the living engines of destruction were felled by concentrated fire from dug in Leman Russ, Demolishers and Vanquishers, they were too many to be halted and they smashed through the lines of tanks in a tide of destruction not yet seen during the battle. They were an unstoppable mass, tearing through tank armour and smashing them aside to continue the charge, driven by the overriding directive of the Hive Mind. The Talosians morale was reaching its limit as this monstrous assault crashed towards the city walls, and the firing intensified as the Tyranids closed in.

It was at this critical point that the volume of defensive fire was abruptly cut in half. Broods of Lictors which had infiltrated the Imperial positions under cover of the attacking Carnifexes and Hive Tyrants sprang from cover to assault the gun emplacements and command posts from the rear and they were powerless to engage this new attack, the Lictors upon them in an instant. With the defensive fire so greatly reduced and the Talosian soldiers embroiled in chaotic short ranged battles against enemies attacking seemingly from every direction, Tyranid creatures began to pour through the breach in the lines and into the outer reaches of the city.

Those defenders that were able retreated within the city walls, under covering fire from defenders within, and those that could not sealed themselves inside rockcrete bunkers as the enemy flowed over and around them, screaming, their hands locked over their ears as the chitinous horde scraped and scratched and battered at the hatches, eager to gain entry and slaughter those locked inside.

Defenders within the city were forced to fight a frantic fighting withdrawal deeper and deeper into the wounded stronghold, using the tight alleys and access ways to funnel the attackers towards one prepared position after another, tenaciously defending every foot of ground until they were overwhelmed or the positions became untenable. They held every street corner, every tunnel, every building, many giving their lives to slow the Tyranid advance and buy precious time for the defenders and civilians deeper within the city.

At the city’s heart, Governor Alexandus had descended with his personal guard ready to stand and face the enemy at the finish. Within the deep catacombs beneath the city where the Ministorum Priests had gathered the faithful, fearful pleas for salvation could be heard, filling the vast underground spaces with prayers to the Emperor of Mankind for deliverance. At the last barricades, and with nowhere else to withdraw to, the Talosians steeled themselves to face the foe. All around them they could hear the shrieking and chittering of the swarms as they built for the final assault.

The Imperial soldiers opened fire one last time as the alien host charged at them across a wide thoroughfare, littered with fallen statues of ancient heroes, wrecked vehicles and falling masonry. Behind the Talosians, the Preachers cried out above the din of battle, and just as the soldiers braced for the assault, and the prayers of the people reached a crescendo, the ground shook and lurched violently. The prayers ceased immediately and the people wept in terror.

Outside the city walls, where the hordes of Tyranid creatures clamoured to enter the city, and Bio Titans prepared to tear down the walls, beams of searing light meters wide lanced down from the heavens, evaporating the discoloured clouds and vaporising great swathes of Xenos, the armoured behemoths buckling before this intense and pinpoint bombardment. From the high towers, the people there saw a sight such as few ever live to see. The sky was alight with hundreds of fiery spears as Imperial troop ships descended from orbit. Darting between the monolithic troop ships were wings of Marauders and Thunderbolts which harried the Tyranid Harridans and Gargoyles that swarmed in the skies, and strafed the swarms on the ground, dropping hundreds of tonnes of high explosive munitions into their midst, tossing broken Tyranid bodies left and right.

Within the heart of Talos Invictor, the Tyranid charge had faltered, and before the Hive Tyrants could reinvigorate the attack, squad upon squad of hulking Terminators in Bone coloured armour materialised before the barricades, blocking the path of the Tyranid swarm, their Storm Bolters and Assault Cannons spitting death, and Heavy Flamers incinerating great masses of aliens, leaving charred mounds of fused Tyranid corpses strewn across the thoroughfare. Even as the Tyranids charged forwards, they were cut down by the Deathwing’s relentless fire, joined now by that of the Talosians, their faith renewed and eager to cleanse their world of the Xenos invaders. The size of the swarm was great, and they yet pressed forwards, but as they did so, Dreadnoughts and Marines of the Dark Angels Chapter, delivered to battle by gunship and drop pod, engaged them from the rear, pouring ever more fire into the Tyranids until, caught between the grim Terminators of the Deathwing before them and the Dreadnoughts and Battle Companies pressing from behind, the swarm disintegrated.  

It transpired that the Imperial Fleet that had been en route to take on board the Talosian regiments before striking for the nearby warzone of Kairis Ultra had found a sight they never expected as they arrived in the Talos system, and, caught unawares, the Hive Fleet in orbit was annihilated by the vessels of the Imperial Navy and the Battle Barges and Strike Cruisers of the Dark Angels force in attendance. The following hours and days were hard fought, and many Imperial servants yet lost their lives before the majority of the Tyranid creatures were finally eradicated from the surface of Talos VII. The halls and passageways of Talos Invictor were scoured with fire and shell, and great numbers of the Tyranid invaders, bereft of their Hive Fleet and many of their leader beasts, succumbed to their inbred survival  instincts and vanished into the wilderness to spread their vile Xenos corruption. Though the tendril of Hive Fleet Scylla that attacked the Talos system was vanquished, the mass of the Hive Fleet, stretched across many light years, continued its journey deeper into the inhabited galaxy, and to this day, more than two centuries later, the people of Talos are watched from the shadows by agents of the Inquisition for signs of Xenos taint or corruption, lest a beacon be lit to draw the Hive Fleets once more.

The soldiers of the Talosian regiments fight in the Emperor’s name across the length and breadth of the Imperium, courageous, loyal and tenacious, they fight to repay their debt to the Emperor for saving their world from annihilation.

What's Your Story?

Greetings wargamers, and welcome once more to my cardboard bunker...

Today's topic is inspired by a post on The Burning Eye blog (please see a link on the right of my page, I recommend a read), which was about the naming of Characters and Units in your army, and by doing so, bringing them and the battles they participate in to life. Not literally of course. That would be weird. Like Toy Story...with Melta Guns. And a two inch tall Vulkan.

I would like to explore fluff from another angle, and that is the creation of the backstory for your army, its history and its place in the setting of the game, whichever game that might happen to be. I guess elements of what I write here can be applied to a variety of games, but my experience is all with GW games, primarily the Warhammer Fantasy and Warhammer 40,000 settings.

Some people might not care about their army background, which is fine, but I feel like I would really be missing out if I didn't tell my own part of the story, and read that of other peoples armies, particularly material written by fans. The setting after all is one of the big draws of Games Workshop games. I mean, look at the vast number of novels you can buy which tell the exact same kind of stories that I would want to be told about my own armies.

In my mind, the story behind my army is very important, and adds immensely to my enjoyment of the hobby. When an army has a story behind it, it stops being a simple collection of playing pieces (no matter how well converted or painted they may be) and becomes a living, breathing entity. There is little difference between reading about a battle fought between the Talosian 3rd Army Group and the Orks of Waaagh Griffnut, and reading about the Battle Of Arnhem Bridge, apart from the fact that one is based on fact and the other a fabricated game setting. A great example of this would be Forge World's Imperial Armour books for 40K, which not only include history, unit details and army lists, but also amazing photos which look incredibly life-like. If you removed all the names from such pieces of text, you might be hard pressed to judge which was the factual history, and which had been made up by a geek (I myself am proud to declare I am at least 40% Geek) on a computer...

When I think about writing background material for an army, I can think of three main ways to approach it, each with varying degrees of work required by you, the narrator of the army's story. First, and easiest, is to simply use existing background material, from a rulebook, army book, campaign book or even a novel based in the same setting as your army.

For example, if you decided to collect an army of Ultramarines for Warhammer 40,000, they are probably the single most comprehensively written about Space Marine Chapter in the history of existence, which is just how Marneus Calgar likes it I'm sure. The point is you can look at their background and simply say 'my army is the Ultramarines 3rd Company', and you already have not only instructions on how to paint them and mark them out as the 3rd Company, but there are probably bits of fluff all over the place that tell you about their history, their famous heroes, homeworld and their part in major events in the history of the Warhammer 40,000 universe.

There are lots of armies that have taken part in specific events in the history of their settings, like the First, Second and Third Wars for Armageddon, The Thirteenth Black Crusade, and, more specific to the Ultramarines, the wars with the Tyranids on the Eastern Fringe (may the Hive Mind envelope the snot nosed Tau and their piddly Empire and reconstitute them all as mindless snot licking toad-things...).

This is great if all you want is to know a bit about the history of your force, and are happy go with what's already there. This is probably typical of Historical Wargames in particular, where battles are often re-fights of great clashes from history, and the troops, commanders and locations are taken straight from the documentary evidence. A variation on this idea is to make your army the followers of a particular Special Character, who all come with their own often extensive histories, and tying your army to their background material. Just don't tie your army to Commissar Yarrick and the Battle for Golgotha. That's where we saw the demise of the Squats after all. I'd love to know how the new Black Library novel 'Chains of Golgotha' spins that one...

The second option is to base your army around an existing force, but make up their battle history, create named personalities to lead them and even design your own insignia and such for them, rather than using pre-fab Special Characters. I could use my Dark Angels force as an example. The army is based around and uses the paint scheme of the Dark Angels 4th Company (the one with the fiddly check patterned design). I didn't want to use the 3rd Company because to me it's an obvious choice, being the first Battle Company, and I chose to avoid the 5th because that's the Company that the Games Workshop studio army is based around (in the last Codex at least), so I went for the 4th Company. I say 'based' around the 4th Company because my collection as a whole, in keeping with the established Dark Angels (and Space Marines generally) background, is part of a larger strike force which includes elements of the 1st Company (Deathwing), 2nd Company (Ravenwing) and 10th Company (the Scout Company).

This army rarely includes any Special Characters, but every squad has a name, as well as every vehicle and character model. The history of the strike force is based loosely around the various major battles I have fought with them in the time I have been collecting Dark Angels, which is getting on for twenty years, so they took part in defending Talos VII from Hive Fleet Scylla, they fought on Armageddon during the Third War, and they joined the rest of the Chapter and the Unforgiven as a whole during the Thirteenth Black Crusade fighting Abbadon's forces and chasing 'The Voice' around the Cadian Gate. The whole time, my strike force commander, Teranius, Master of the 4th Company and Bearer of the Blade, has been responsible for hunting down a prominent Fallen Dark Angel known as 'Kraven'.

By taking this approach, you can base your background around a theme or army that you like, but take the step of adding some additional background flavour to make it more personal if that's what you want, to feel like you have had more of a hand in creating the story that supports the army.

The final option I would like to talk about (and the one I prefer), is that of writing the background for your army pretty much from scratch. It's not quite totally from scratch, because every race has its 'army wide' backgound that your own fluff will tend to agree with in most cases. Imperial Guardsmen are, broadly speaking, grunts with flashlights, no matter what world they're from, they all have traits in common. Orks are all frothing thugs who want nothing more than to bash someone's head in, (preferably yours) regardless of whether the Idol represents Gork or Mork. Tyranids want to suck out your brains regardless of whether they are red, green or puce with lime green polkadots. You get the idea I'm sure. Apart from staying within these fairly broad guidelines (unless you can fabricate a good reason not to), you can go wild.

Writing background from scratch opens up a world of possibilities, literally, because you get to create (almost) everything, including cool stuff like homeworlds, culture, colloquial language references, fighting styles, preferred or specialist combat environments, and of course, names. For this one, I'll use my Imperial Guard as an example. They are the Talosian 24th Light Infantry Regiment. The Talos System is made up of giant planets. I took the name Talos from the bronze giant of Greek Mythology.

Talos VII, the planet that my regiment hails from, is also the world that was fought over in a very early (possibly our first ever) campaign played by the group of gamers I went to school with in the mid nineties. The campaign revolved around an Imperial world being defended by the Guard, which was being invaded by the Tyranids of Hive Fleet Scylla (which became my Tyranid army), and which the Eldar (half our group played Eldar) also had a vested interest in because there were functioning Webway Portals hidden on the planet which they needed to shut down or at least seal, before the Hive Mind gained access to the Webway.

These days, the back story of my Guard talks a bit about their culture before the Tyranid invasion, and a bit about after the Hive Fleet was driven off (by the arrival of the Talosian Fleet, led by my Dark Angels strike force of course), and what has become of them today. At the moment, my Guard are embroiled on the staging world of Barakka Prime, which was invaded at the outset of the Third Armageddon War by my Ork army (led by Warlord Griffnut, tasked with this staging world's destruction by Ghazgkhull himself. I think Ghazgkhull just wanted him out of the way because he's got his eye on the crown), as part of the Orks coordinated effort to strangle the supply network feeding the beleaguered warzone.

As you can see, many of my armies have background that is interlinked, which is another benefit of writing from scratch, because this is relatively easy to accomplish when you have free reign to make things up as you go along. In the case of my Imperial Guard, I used a campaign that we had fought way back in the mists of time as the inspiration for their history, which was nice because it really was their history. The names I chose to give my officers were taken straight from my Secondary School teachers, so the Talosian 24th are led by Colonel Riccarius (Richard) Bailey, with Lieutenants and Captains named after teachers I remember. There is so much you can call on to create your background. Why not delve into real world history for some inspiration? Is there a culture or period of history that sparks your interest? A particular commander perhaps? It doesn't take a genius to work out that Lord Commander Solar Macharius is based on Alexander The Great.

The key thing to remember is that whatever approach you decide to take, you have the chance to make your army background exciting, to give your games context in the sense of your army's wider involvement in the setting. If you expand on the army's background through incorporating battles and even campaigns fought within your local gaming group, then the group as a whole has the chance not only to expand their individual army fluff, but also to build one that connects them all together in an epic shared existence.

One last thing to remember...history is always written by the victor.

Thanks for reading...

Storm of Chaos - Eye of the Storm - Part 3

Greetings all, and welcome on this glorious Monday morning to the final part of my three part 'this is where I think the action should go' fan fiction for playing games following the lifting of the Seige of Middenheim at the climax of the Storm of Chaos Campaign.

I have deliberately saved the most important factions till last, but before I begin, I will try to pre-empt two questions readers may ask, especially those who were there for the campaign itself.

Firstly, I haven't written fluff for every race in the game or that was included in some way in the original campaign. This is because one of the things I dislike about such affairs is when the organisers try and shoe horn every single race and faction into the story and sometimes it just isn't appropriate and doesn't benefit the story in my opinion. Therefore I have only included the races that would be directly involved in the fighting in the Empire, which would make the action more cohesive. Other races could of course play a part, but as bit players and journeymen rather than as main protagonists.

The second is regarding my decision to include the Ogre Kingdoms. The Ogres didn't feature in the original Storm of Chaos campaign, because at the time they weren't even a playable army, but I think my reasoning is sound.

My decision to include the Ogres was twofold: The first reason is the fact that the timeline year is currently one year before the Storm of Chaos took place and the Ogres are now a well established race means that if the campaign were to be re-run, it would be natural for them to be included. The second reason is that the Rulebook background is drawing the Ogres ever closer to the Old World - many Tribes have already arrived - and that Grimgor Ironhide is trying to recruit them to his cause.

This second reason in particular sets the stage for both the Ogres and the Orcs and Goblins to be major players in any post Storm action, and the rest of the factions will be fighting simply for survival if they join their forces to any significant degree.

Without further justification, here are the final four pieces of fluff:

The Ogre Kingdoms

From the northern Dwarf holds of the Worlds Edge Mountains to the rickety watch towers of the Goblin Tribes of Peak Pass and Mount Gunbad, lookouts have spied great columns of dust out across the plains of the Dark Lands. For weeks these clouds of dust have been visible, but their source has been a mystery until now.

First there came great tides of lesser creatures, game animals, and tribes of Goblins, heading west towards the Old World. The frantic Wolf Riders of the Goblins brought with them tales of an immense and insatiable creature from further east, all tusks and grumbling belly, that devoured everything in it’s path, save those who could offer mounds of gold and glimmering trinkets, or else lead it to even more sustenance, and afterwards it would devour those as well! On and on the rumors of the creature came, ever westwards, ever hungry.

It was the Rangers of Clan Elriksson that brought the truth of this creature. Moving fast, well armed, and with great furred beasts of the Mountains of Mourn in tow, a great migration of Ogre tribes were on the move. Far to the east, in the foothills of the Mountains of Mourn, the Rangers witnessed an exchange between a Warband of Orcs, and the Paymasters of Greasus Goldtooth, the Gutlord himself. The Orcs, carrying with them a standard bearing the tribal emblems of Grimgor Ironhide, had driven a team of four hulking Squiggoths across the plains, dragging behind them a huge and ramshakled wooden wagon, plated with rusted iron, and loaded to bursting with gold taken in plunder from all the races of the Old World. The creaking wagon was mounted with sharpened stakes along it’s high sides, each of which impaled the diminutive bodies of Gnoblars, stacked one on top of the other: those who tried, foolishly, to steal the treasure horde of Grimgor, destined for the Lord of all the Ogre Tribes. This spectacular treasure, offered by a muscled and armed Orc Warboss in exchange for marching his warriors west to war in the Old World, was accepted. However, the bargain was not sealed with blood until the Orcs had agreed to also give over the Squiggoths, to bless the feast table of the Goldtooth and his warriors.

Several hours later, after much belching and butting, and Greasus Goldtooth had finished picking the last strings of Orc flesh from between his yellowing tusks, he announced that the bargain was made, they would march west over the Worlds Edge Mountains, to war…

The armies of Manfred von Carstein

Having scattered the remnants of Archaon’s forces at Sokh, Manfred has marched his army east. The naive leaders of the Empire, which had themselves failed to take Sokh after bitter street fighting, believed Manfred’s ‘retreat’ to be due to the defiance of the Grand Theogonist, Volkmar, but in truth, he knew he needed to protect his centre, and the vast power and knowledge stored there, from the encroachment of the hordes of Vardek Crom into Sylvania.

As Manfred turned and rode away from Middenheim, there was in fact an evil grin seeping across his pale visage, for armies under the command of his most trusted lieutenants had already marched across the borders of Sylvania into the eastern Empire States of war ravaged Ostermark, hated Stirland and Talabecland. The humans could never comprehend his great ambitions, for they were short lived and thought in terms of weeks and months, not the years, decades and even centuries his complex plans could encompass. There was one pressing consideration though. With the vast size of his forces, he must have a victory, to reinforce his dominance and keep the Vampires of his horde in order.

Trust among Vampires is a fallacy in purest form though, and whether Manfred is able to retain control of his lieutenants without his direct influence remains to be seen. It has ever been the way with Vampire kind that they rule through fear rather than loyalty, and only the strongest of wills can ensure their continued obedience...

Will the depleted but jubilant forces of an Empire and its allies battered by war be able to counter this new and terrible threat, or will the Empire finally fall to the cold machinations of the Vampire Counts?

The Empire

The Empire was in turmoil. Though the siege of the city of the White Wolf had been broken, and the forces of Archaon forced into retreat, the Warlord himself still lived. He was surrounded within the virtually impregnable fortress of Brass Keep, his greatest surviving warriors gathered about him and the walls of the edifice protected further by vile enchantments. Valten was gone, and none knew for sure where, but those who knew of the manner of his disappearance feared the worst. Some of the nobility with an eye on the throne themselves muttered in muted whispers about how conveniently this challenge to Karl Franz position had so neatly been removed.

Despite the hardships the Imperial forces had suffered, now was not the time to fall to complacency, and Karl Franz had ordered a mustering of the remaining Empire forces, bolstered by reinforcements from the southern States spared the horror of the war thus far. A decisive push must be made to cleanse the land of the forces of Chaos and drive them back to whence they came, or destroy them utterly. Archaon himself must die, so that he would have no chance to reorder his forces and plunge the Empire once more into bitter war. The northern States that had borne the brunt of the fighting were in ruin, and great was the task of rebuilding ahead of them. The roving bands of Beastmen and fur clad Marauders must be hunted down, and any treacherous men of the Empire who, in their darkest hour had thrown their lot in with the forces of the enemy, must be put to the sword as well, lest their taint be allowed to spread.

An army had already been dispatched, heavy with Priests and Witch Hunters, east towards Stirland and far Sylvania. Now that the threat of the Vampire Counts hung once more over their heads, that too must be addressed and ended for all time. Now, while they were on the front foot, the forces of the Empire could be victorious, but it was a hard task to come.

As Karl Franz stood in council around the map table before him and his generals, an outrider entered the tent. He looked worn and short of breath. From within a leather satchel he drew forth a rolled parchment, and kneeling he held it out for the Emperor. Karl Franz took the roll and unfurled it, scanning down the script within. The news was grave. The Orcs were marching south, towards Altdorf...

The Forces of Chaos

Archaon roared in pain. His head swam with terrible images and sounds, and felt as if all the power of Chaos threatened to burst his skull asunder. His body was equally wracked with pain, and it contorted and cracked into unfathomable shapes as the displeasure of the Chaos gods manifest itself. Being the favoured of the four greater deities brought almost limitless power, but it also meant that failure invited punishment from all four as well. His body, verging on the immortal, could withstand far greater physical damage than any simple man, forcing him to endure unimaginable agony while his life force refused to expire. The anger and the will that had brought him so far, down the path of long years, sustained him. It bubbled slowly from deep within him until it began to overcome the pain and the noise.

The malicious deities beyond the veil, a hairs breadth from the material realm, sensed the strength that remained deep within their defeated champion, sensed that, though brought low, the will that had brought him to them endured. It smouldered. They could still achieve their goals through him, though they must commit a portion of their own being to restore their champion...he was not like those champions who had gone before. He was of them, and his hatred burned hotter than the deepest hell.

...Slowly, and with great effort, Archaon, Lord of the End Times rose to his feet. Now he knew how close he had come to oblivion. It did not do to fail the very powers that had given him his chance to have his vengeance on the Empire. He had underestimated his enemy, thought his forces unstoppable. Now he knew better, knew what he faced, knew what waited should he fail once more...now there would be a reckoning. He strode from the chamber...

As always, thanks for reading...

The Storm of Chaos - Eye of the Storm - Part 2

Welcome once more, and may I present to you Part 2 of the fan fiction written for each of the main protagonist races for gaming following the Storm of Chaos campaign.

Last time, I gave my view on where the Orcs, Skaven and Bretonnians may have found themselves after the Seige of Middenheim, and now I present to you the fluff for the Beastmen, Dwarfs, High Elves and Wood Elves. Next time, in the final part, I will present the material for the Empire, Ogre Kingdoms, Manfred's Sylvanians and finally, Archaons Forces.

Beastmen

The insatiable warherds that took part in the great invasion of the hated human Empire, led by the forces of the northman Archaon, took great satisfaction from the enraged bloodletting that saw the northern provinces ravaged. However, the Everchosen proved too weak, underestimating his enemy, and was now at bay, cornered like an animal within the pile of stones the humans called Brass Keep. Who was this Archaon? A mere man, who thought himself the Chosen of Chaos, when it was the Blessed Children of the deepest forests that were the true chosen of Chaos! The herds had been mustered in secret over many months, massing in numbers greater than ever before. The great beasts of the dark places had been roused to anger, and now the Beastmen were ready to finally take back what once was theirs, tearing down the pitiful cities of human kind as they went, in an unstoppable roaring, gnashing tide of destruction that would see the end of men in this world.

The northern Empire had been weakened by Archaon’s assault, and now the time was ripe. The numberless beastherds, joined by rampaging Ghorgons, insane Cygor and horrific Jaberslythe, would sweep across the northern Empire, razing utterly those places that still stood defiant, before they could rebuild their defences and call forth more warriors from the south. After the destruction of the north was complete, they would turn to the destruction of the rest of the Empire, and after that all the nations of men, Dwarfs and Elves beyond the mountains. The time of the Beastmen was here...

Dwarfs

Garagrim Ironfist, heir to the throne of the Slayer Keep, is dead. His Father, Ungrim, beside himself with grief, and torn between his duty to lead his people and his oath as a slayer, has halted after the breaking of the siege of Middenheim, allowing his forces to reorder themselves and re-equip for the fight ahead. They have been joined by hundreds more slayers from the length and breadth of the Worlds Edge Mountains, only now completing long journeys from the south.

There is much debate within the Slayer Kings war council about the direction they should take now that Archaon’s forces have been forced into retreat. Dwarf armies march to defend their holds or to the aid of their human allies across the Empire, lending their skill to the rebuilding or shoring up of shoddy man made fortifications, but rumours have reached the ears of the Slayer King of a might horde of Ogres from far to the east which have crossed the Worlds Edge Mountains to the south, and now threaten the eastern Empire and the Dwarf holds of the region. Confronting such a force would earn many slayers a worthy end indeed, but having amassed such an army of Slayers as had never been seen before, many would have Ungrim march his army to the Eight Peaks, and attempt to regain the ancient city, greatest of Dwarf holds, an endeavour which would also assuredly see many Slayers fulfil their oaths. This course also promises the chance to return the city to Dwarven hands at long last.

Ungrim knows well that whatever the decision he makes, the repercussions will echo down the ages...

High Elves

Throughout the war, small contingents of High Elves lent support against the forces of Archaon where they could. Though they were few in number, their spears were welcome wherever they joined the forces of men and Dwarfs. Perhaps a tale that will be told unto the end of time in the annals of history, the greatest achievement of the High Mage Teclis was the banishment of the host of Daemons led by the Dark Master, Belakor. Not since the first war against Chaos has such power been unleashed in the world. There is no doubt in the minds of some that Middenheim would have fallen had this terrible force reached the walls, and the people of the Empire will always owe a debt to the High Elves for this significant intervention.

As Karl Franz holds council to decide how best to combat the foes that still beset the Empire, and in particular regard to how Archaon himself should be dealt with, surely the sage council of Teclis will prove invaluable. As Teclis himself considers the many paths that the coming months may take, he has become acutely aware of the power that has been unleashed in Sylvania, and the fate that follows Manfred von Carstein, a fate that may see even greater death and horror than that which was unleashed by the Everchosen...could it be that Teclis and the Vampyre must face each other before the end?

Wood Elves

The Summer has passed. Its raging infernos that consumed our forest as beasts burned, rampaged and rutted amongst the ashes is over for now. Though our realms are a withered husk of what they were, we made the tainted invaders pay with rivers of blood for every step they took, every forest despoiled and every one of our own they cut down in battle. The seasons turn, Autumn calls, and with it our last chance to chase them from our lands before we are too weak to defend ourselves. The king and his wild hunt call out to us 'Come drive them before us!', 'Come, let us finally crush the lord of skulls and drive his corrupting presence from our lands!', 'Come, let us rejoice in the slaughter of the unworthy, so their blood may nourish us in spring!’

The Storm of Chaos - Eye of the Storm

Greetings traveller, and welcome to part one of the follow up to my posts on Worldwide Campaigns.

I promised that I would be posting the sections of background that were written by me and other contributors to be used as a jumping off point for playing games of Warhammer after the Seige of Middenheim, which formed the climax of the Storm of Chaos Campaign. This will possibly, at some point, if I ever get round to it, form the nucleus of a Source Book for playing in that setting. Rather than trying to fix some of the glaring mis-steps that were written into the 'official' conclusions to try and fix the various story problems that manifest themselves at the end of the campaign, I have tried to put a twist on them where necessary instead, to give gamers something that we can work with that allows all factions involved to move forward with purpose.

Your comments are welcome, so let me know what you think. I'll start you off with the first few factions:

Storm of Chaos – The Eye of the Storm

The condition and disposition of the various factions following the lifting of the siege of Middenheim
The Orcs of Gimgor Ironhide

Grimgor Ironhide, mightiest Orc Warlord of the age, was seething with rage. Of every promise he ever heard roared across a battlefield, every challenge laid down by the warmongering cries of a mighty champion, every upstart proclaiming himself the doom of all other warriors, Archaon, the supposed Lord of the End Times, top Chaos boy, had been the biggest disappointment.

By the time Grimgor and his Immortulz had hacked their way to the heart of the mighty battle of Middenheim, hewing their way through screaming Flagellants and spiky Chaos boys, their leader was already battered and bruised after a fight with two other humies, but he’d beaten them both, but the fight he offered Grimgor was utterly disheartening.

How did such a weakling ever become the leader of such a vast horde of warriors? Surely the quality of the northern tribes of men must be pretty low for this man to rise so high? Having laid the Everchosen low with a mighty ‘edbut and the flat of Gitsnik’s heavy blade, Grimgor turned his army around and withdrew from this vexing waste of his time. Muttering to himself as his boys hacked and slashed their way clear of the fighting, Grimgor wracked his Orcish brain for the answer to his lifelong question. Where would he ever find a challenge worthy of his blade? Where could he go to find the greatest fighters he could possibly face?

As he finished battering a shrieking Flagellant into the mud with a length of wood he didn’t remember picking up, the spiky end of it caught his gaze. It had human words scratched on it. Wiping away the Flagellants blood he struggled to make out the name on what he now saw was a signpost....Alt-dorf? That was the human boys big city to the south. If they’d managed to beat the Chaos boys here, then the Empire must have even better fighters than the Chaos lot, and they would muster every blade to defend their big important city. Grimgor extended his muscled green arm, and with a roar and the pointing of a dirty claw, turned his army south...

The Skaven

The Council Chamber was in complete uproar. Fur stood on end, and tails swished agitatedly. The Council endorsed plan to utilise Clan Skyre’s super weapon, the lauded ‘Doom Hemisphere’, had failed to annihilate the mountain and the fortified human warren that sat atop it. Instead it had only partially exploded, warping and fusing the tunnels beneath the great rock into labyrinthine new forms. The device itself was now lost somewhere within the newly created maze, though even now, gutter runners of Clan Eshin had been despatched to try and find the device.

The shrieks of treachery and sabotage that had been levelled at Clan Skyre themselves had been defeaning, and it had almost come to bloodshed on several occasions, until the Council had restored order, the Storm Vermin guards brandishing their blades menacingly until the clamour abated. The fact remained that armies of many thousands of Skaven warriors were in place to attack. Beasts of every description had been herded to the underways beneath the city the humans called Middenheim in their hundreds. If they did not attack now, then the vast resources expended gathering so many Skaven and so much support into a single place would be wasted as all sense of order and purpose gave way to infighting and the Councils meticulously laid plans dissolved into nothing. The human Empire above was in turmoil, now was the Skaven’s time. This city would have to be taken the old fashioned way, by sneaking up on the humans from beneath and taking them by suprise. The order would be given. They would attack...

Bretonnia

After battling alongside their human and Dwarf allies in the defence of the Empire from the vast hordes of Archaon, and distinguishing themselves at the Siege of Middenheim, the Knights of Bretonnia are in high spirits, jubilant in their hard won glory, though little of that spirit seems to be present in the peasantry who marched to the Empire’s aid in the wake of their noble masters. They appear as downtrodden and dishevelled as ever. Now that the siege has been lifted and the forces of Archaon forced into retreat, the Knights of Bretonnia seek further challenges to test their metal against.

The chasing down of bandits and the broken remnants of the enemy force beneath their interest, the Bretonnians turn their thoughts instead to the newly emerged threat from Sylvania. Many are the tales of that blighted realm that have found their way to Bretonnian tap rooms over the centuries, and such a challenge as the notorious line of the von Carsteins would indeed be a test worthy of the gallant elite of fair Bretonnia. It is also rumoured that a vast army of Ogres marches from the east, from beyond the Worlds Edge Mountains, and an entire army of such monsters is too much for any true knight of Bretonnia to resist. And so, word has spread amongst the legions of young knights eager to prove themselves in their eyes of both their piers and the Lady of the Lake. Never before will the dank and decrepit province of Sylvania have seen such a muster of splendour as the army of Knights marches to finally free the people of that benighted realm from the curse of the Vampire Counts...

Thanks for reading...