"What is it?"
The man was disgusting. Heavyset, tiny piggish eyes, his bald head covered in liver spots, and the pungent stench of unwashed folds of flesh was overwhelming.
"It looks like some kind of cavern, sir. Doesn't look natural, and it doesn't contain the same mineral composition as the surrounding rock."
He leaned in close to the screen, the clerk's shoulder pushing deep into the distended gut of the obese man, and placed his cold and sweaty hand on the back of the clerks neck. He turned his head to the side and spat a thick stream of mucus to the floor.
"I can see that much, do we know more?"
"It's old, sir. Older than the rest of the mountain, its like it was here and the mountain grew up around it." The clerk focused on not heaving, breathing through his mouth wasn't helping as he just tasted the foul man instead of smelling him
The heavy man stood, coughed a horrible wracking cough, spitting once again on the floor. He turned and retreated mumbling to himself. "Could it be here...?"
Legions Maxximus has concluded and it was a success! I ran a narrative event and after a smattering of drops and re-entries we ended up with 8 players. I decided to write this article to highlight a number of things, the story, the event itself, some of the games and missions, and a little "How to Narrative". It's not going to have the competitive feel to it that most of my other posts have and will focus on the story aspect and running narrative events. This was not a big event, and as this would be the first type of narrative based event I have run, I was perfectly fine with it only being 8 players. I started off with a short story to set the stage...
In the depths of the mining hive city Callax IV, a dark secret was found. A structure deep within a mountain, stumbled across during excavation. As exploration of the structure began, mouths whispered their secrets and Chaos answered. The city had little defence and was quickly overrun, and the worshippers of the dark gods began their rituals slaughtering the city dwellers in the thousands. There is hope, a distress call was flung to the void of space in desperation. The question is, who will answer, and will it be in time?
I wanted to keep this event fairly relaxed and focused on themed missions and tables I spent days designing. For this reason I decided to use Power Level for the army building, and limit the lists to 50PL and 2 detachments with no LOWs. I allowed players to swap out weaponry as they see fit, as long as the models were WYSIWYG, and allowed them to swap a single unit in their army for another for 1CP. I realised after the event, that as easy as it is to build a list using Power Level, it is not the ideal method. While this was a narrative event, I still wanted the players to have an even army but, with power level, it turned out that several armies would out point others when it was said and done. Ad Mech getting the shortest end of the stick coming in almost 400 points lower that the highest list, which was Eldar, I think.
I split the players into 2 teams (Order and Disorder), and with that, the narrative grew. The Disorder side consisted of Eldar(x2), Nurgle Daemons, and Death Guard while the Order side was made up of Blood Angels(x2), Ad Mech, and Astra Militarum.
Now knowing who was going to be playing in the event, I could tweak the story a little to suit the armies.
"Could it be here? How? It's got to be a mistake...but why else was I sent here?" The fat man muttered to himself as he waddled down the hallway to his private quarters. "Leave me." He said at the entrance and the servitors turned to perform other duties.
He manoeuvred himself through the crowded room, full of furniture and adornments, none of them new or clean, or even well cared for. Things were heaped in piles, broken or torn, strewn about the floor, stepped on and covered in filth. In fact everything in this space looked old and dirty a thick odour of mold and rot hung in the air and clung to the skin like a film. It permeated everything yet the disgusting bulk of a man seemed not to notice.
He trampled his way through the refuse til he came to blank panel of wall, spat a phlemy wad of mucus into the palm of his hand and smacked it to wall. There was a click and the panel slid open to reveal a hidden room. He stepped inside and the panel slid shut behind him, blanketing him in darkness.
A match flared to life and the acrid smell of sulphur filled the small room. A bundle of rags on the floor flinched and began to shake and whimper.
"Please...what do you...want from me...?" The eyes of the man pleaded, full of fear and the unknown reasons for which he was here. He reached up and quickly withdrew with a gasp as pain wracked his emaciated body, grabbing his bulging distended stomach. "What did...you do to me?"
"I prepared you for this..." grabbing the emaciated man by the throat he raised him up and slashed across the gut with a knife that seemed to materialise from nowhere. Guts spilling to the floor, the vessel gurgled and died, hanging limply, entrails tangling form the wound. Something moved, the bulge in the victims gut writhed and from the gaping wound a face appeared, bloated and pockmarked.
The lips parted to reveal pointed yellow teeth and emitted a strangled voice, "The gateway is here! Grandfather would be proud. Open it you must! Open! Open! Open! Hehehehehehehehe! But beware the sweet meat. Let them help you, they want the gate open too. To rescue the princess HAHAHA!. Papa loves his princess, let them come. Let them help. Sweeeeet meeeeeaaaat." With those words echoing in the small chamber the face disappeared.
The idea now morphed into the structure that was found is a gateway into Nurgle's garden. The Eldar armies were here to try and gain access to it to regain their captured goddess Isha. If they could somehow manage to free her from Nurgle's grasp she would be able to escape, and that would be well worth their lives if they had to be sacrificed.
I also encouraged other players to write a short narrative for their army or warlord. Why were they there? What was their ambition? Nothing huge, a paragraph or so. I offered up some bonus points for it and I got a couple. Most notably from an Astra Militarum player named Mike. Mike has been playing Warhammer a LONG time and has had his Guard army from the start. He has pages and pages of narrative for the 4th Danika Imperial Guard Regiment. Mike has stories he has written inspired by games he has played, novellas and longer pieces inspired by models he has painted, and even write ups on the units and characters. I highly recommend you take a look and peruse some of his writing. Here is the story he wrote for the event.
Somewhere in the desert waste near Callax IV
Senekal cursed and finally put his haversack atop his head, wedging it between the top of his skull and the hard metal of the compartment roof. While he was no giant of a man, in the low ceilinged troop box of a Buffalo transport, even his own six feet was enough to cause a headache if one didn’t slouch or sit hunched. Piling in and out of the rear doors of the compartment was equally challenging, requiring a hunched stance but helped by a few welded handles on the roof. Handles which also caused a certain amount of ‘noggin’ knocking’.
Across from him, Father Joaquim Halpern sat slouched very low in his chair, reading from one of his codices by the wan light the armorglass windows allowed in. “If you sat lower, Colonel, it wouldn’t be quite so hard on your head.”
“I know, Father, I know,” he grumbled. “We both know these things were built for troop units where everyone wore helmets.”
“Unlike the Bloodcoats,” Halpern grinned.
“We used to, you know.” Wulfgang von den Loewen chimed in. “Wear helmets I mean. I still have mine somewhere.” He grinned as the Buffalo bounced again, compressing the Colonel’s spine a bit although the pack saved him from another lump. Wulf’s balding pate simply bounced harmlessly off the thick roll of the Regimental standard which he’d secured to tie downs keeping it behind and above his head. The fact that he was a fair bit shorter than Senekal and Halpern also helped.
“Think I can get one Wulfy?” The higher pitched voice once would have annoyed the Danikans but they had grown used to it over the last couple of years. Pyra – formerly a ganger from the hive world of Lodi – was the only woman who had ever served in the Bloodcoats. Senekal had originally thought of her as ‘that annoying girl’ but her skill, dedication and talent with the huge flamethrower she toted around had long since dispelled his Danikan tendencies of misogyny masquerading as chivalry. Pyra had earned her place in the Bloodcoats and if you could make it in the Colonel’s elite bodyguard, you had everyone’s respect in the regiment.
Wulf winced. He hated ‘Wulfy’ and only Pyra could get away with it. “I suppose if you can find one for your tiny head off someone who got capped, maybe. We haven’t gotten new helmets from Danika in years and you’re not exactly a standard size.” The two continued in that vein, ribbing each other in that way that only those who had saved each other’s lives countless times could. Senekal tuned them out as he flipped on the map slate on his lap. Noting that they were near their goal he took hold of a grab rail and swung through the tight quarters to the back of the compartment, throwing open the top hatch. He had to grab his hat in the blast of wind, dust and ash that was the lovely atmosphere here near the Callax IV mining hive.
Planetary winds, in this case, weren’t the reason for the huge gust that caused the canvas cover on the autocannon mount to snap like a whip. That came from the huge Aquila transport setting down less than 20 meters away. As the ventral jets spooled down, the passenger compartment of the aircraft lowered to rest on the rocky ground. The Colonel did his level best to look bored as a handful of people disembarked and walked toward the Buffalo.
“Milord Inquisitor” he said with a casualness he didn’t feel. Arcturan Senekal didn’t actually mind this particular Inquisitor. They’d worked together before and, while he could be a bit of a martinet and a stickler for some things he wasn’t murderous and his heart seemed generally in the proper place. Even so, anyone who had the authority to extinguish all life on a planet with a word was not someone most would feel overly comfortable around. Anton Coriolis had a far higher calling than the safety of any one individual or even any one city or planet full of individuals. In the hell days of the Cicatrix Maladictum the importance of that job was even greater.
The Inquisitor looked serious and purposeful. The Guard colonel had literally never seen any other expression on his face. Not in the heat of battle, not when eating, not even while grievously wounded on the field. His faced moved just fine – it was like he wasn’t capable of any other emotion.
Or so Senekal thought – the flash of hatred across those implacable features was vanishingly quick, but unmistakable. Keeping his own cool a bit better, the guardsman let his right eyebrow climb toward the visor of his officer’s cap. That’s new, he thought.
“He is here.”
“Based on the distress call we were re-routed because of – I expect a lot of people are here. Including a great many very bad people. And some things that aren’t even people.
“Accursed Xenos” one of the Inquisitor’s acolytes, a man in deep blue Arbites armour spat.
“Well yeah, those too. I was more thinking of the Death Guard and the daemons. As deadly as the Aeldari can be, they are nothing to the corruption of raw chaos. There is clearly something in that vault under Callax IV that the puss pocked scum want. We were in the neighborhood and asked nicely – well ordered really – to come and tell them to go play in a warp rift. Not that I expect them to listen if we ask nicely or anything.”
The flash of hate crossed the Inquisitor Lord’s face again. “I would be here, with the archenemy presence regardless – this is more than that.
“Heft is here.”
That did take the Colonel aback a bit. “Edvardus Heft? Your fellow member of the Emperor’s Holy Order of the Inquisition?”
The hate came back and this time it stayed for a bit. “Do NOT call him that? He is filth! Excommunicate Traitorus! He consorts with the powers of the warp!”
Senekal snorted, not liking at all where this was going. “Umm, yeah. Did you bother to mention that to the Grey Knight Daemon Hunters that were hanging around with him last time?” He didn’t wait for a reply but went straight on, “Look milord, I don’t like the slippery bastard either and we both know he is not a nice man. I’ve punched a couple of his daemon buddy things in the face a few times as you well know. But if the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Malleus is running around supporting him – well that’s starting to get into Inquisitorial infighting and I’d prefer to have no part of that.”
“I have my own contacts with the Grey Knights, Colonel. These things are more – complex – than you know.” Despite the cold tone Senekal could tell he’d hit a nerve. This wasn’t something that sat well with Coriolis either.
As he was wont to do when feeling pressured or taking risks, the guardsman went for cheeky. “Yeah? So where are they? Picnic on Io? I don’t see any here.”
He could almost hear the Inquisitor grind his teeth in frustration. It actually took twenty seconds for the normally implacable Inquisitor to get control of himself. When he finally spoke his voice was not his usual imperious tone but something a bit more sincere. Senekal even wondered for a moment if he’d suddenly remembered that he was technically a member of the human race.
“Colonel, we both know I could simply order you to serve, I have that authority.”
Senekal sighed. “True, milord.”
“We also know two other things.”
Curious now he replied, “And those are?”
“First, we both know you would never work for or consort with Edvardus Heft.”
“Well – mostly true I guess. I wouldn’t mind introducing him to my power fist though. Turned on. And the second thing?”
“We also both know that whatever Heft is up to here, it’s no good. It’s bad for the Imperium. That’s my concern. Probably very bad if I am to be honest with you. But in addition to that, it’s bad for the people – those ordinary, everyday members of Imperial society who live out their lives here, trying raise their children, provide food and clothing for their families, look after their loved ones and the like.
“I know you think me cold. Uncaring. You think ‘What right has a man to condemn billions of souls – a whole world – to a harsh violent death. What you do not understand, cannot understand – is that such action is not something I or any decent member of the Ordos relishes. For us the truth is simple. It is not what right have we to condemn those souls to their terrible end – the question to us is – ‘what right have we NOT to?
He sighed and again his face twisted into unfamiliar planes. He looked sad, wistful. “You cannot know what we see, Colonel. What we of the Ordos face. We are the Guardians at the Gates of Hell. Sometimes, quite literally. When we condemn it is because we have no other choice. Billions must die that untold trillions may live. And, every day, we live with those choices that we make. The souls of those whose worlds burned at your command never leave you. They hate you. They despise you but, more than anything else they tell you – make my death mean something!
“You, sir, have the luxury of thinking of the little people. So I ask you Colonel – I do not order, I ask – help me save this world. Help me save these people so that the souls who await me at the Emperor’s table in the warp are not added to.
“I do not order. But I must ask.”
Senekal was silent. This was new – unexpected. Not at all the man he had worked with before. Changed in meaningful and tragic ways. The Colonel didn’t know what had happened – but something had.
“Well, shit milord.”
The Inquisitor didn’t register the comment at all but those in his retinue looked taken aback. “When you ask like that – well we both know I cannot really say no, can I?
“I’ve commitments from Sector Command. I expect you want me to break those?”
“No, Colonel.”
“NO?”
“No. It’s quite possible Heft will know that I am here if you break those commitments. This must be done carefully and quietly or he will perform his evil and slip away yet again. That cannot happen.
“No,” he continued, clearly thinking hard. “No this will have to be smaller than that. Careful. You and your men here will have to stay with me. There’s a chance Heft’s agents could discover me if they were to say or even think the wrong thing without shielding. We need a small group. A platoon or two and some support. Not enough of your regiment that their absence will be noted. Perhaps some infantry, artillery and a few tanks?”
Senekal nodded, thinking hard on how best to handle this. Finally he answered. “Yes, milord. I think I can manage that. Maybe even a bit of psychic shielding for those we bring along, would that be wise?”
“I think so. What have you got in mind?”
“One of our Adepts. Primaris Psyker Ackles. If I assign him the Blood Rats he may be able to keep them shielded. Might even prevent them from knowing what’s actually going on. Can’t be a bad thing. As to the rest, Miguel Castillo and Merry Thanos. You’ve worked with both of them before.”
“I have, good men.”
“Very well, milord. You’ve got yourself a crew.” Senekal had to pause as the Aquila lifted off with a thundering roar and raced upward, quickly disappearing into the darkening sky. Pyra opened the rear doors for the tall Inquisitor who lead the way for his staff – and promptly banged his head on the low ceiling of the Buffalo troop compartment.
“See, Outie?” Pyra chimed in from her seat, using the slang her old gang used for those who had not grown up in the Underhive. She had no particular fear or respect for the Inquisition. “Helmets – they’re a thing!”
The Nurgle Daemon player, Homer, wrote this story about his Warlord...
Nixx was deep in concentration, but suddenly he sensed something, and that something caught his attention. It smelled sweet and delicious and he was thinking it would be a perfect addition for the garden. It was so close, but what to do, what would Papa want? A devilish smile cut across his face, it didn't matter what Papa wanted, he wasn't here, but Nixx was and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. So he quickly gathered up any minions that were close to him and he proceeded to force his was into reality. All fresh should were waiting for him and the forged loved fresh ingredients.
"Forward HO!" he commanded his minions, "There's work to be done and it's not doing itself."
Perhaps he could earn some favour with Papa is he did a good hob. As the tear opened into reality, he casually strolled into it and said "I am here to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and I'm all out of bubblegum."
Yeah, a little cheesy I know, but we can't all be poets right? Anyway, this was the write up that got me thinking of calling the Eldar sweet meat and folds in with the idea of the Garden being an important plot hook in the story. Unfortunately those were the only stories I got, so not a ton to work on.
Now for the actual gaming part of it. How was I going to determine who would play who? Well, since the Disorder team's armies have actually arrived on location first and were technically the defenders in this ordeal, they were going to go through the tables and the missions and choose where they wanted to play. This gave them the ability to choose what mission and table set up would play to their armies strengths. The Order team would then look over the tables and missions and opponent and determine who they would face.
I've mentioned the tables and missions and how I laboured long and hard on them, so lets do a quick rundown on them. There were 5 tables and each one had a theme that I used to plan what the mission would be and how the terrain would be laid out. I used a couple decks of the Open War cards to create the missions and used the Ruse and Twist cards to help set the theme and the Sudden Death cards were added to create a secondary objective (these did not automatically end the game). I was not entirely focused on balance but more on story.
For example, the first table was the main gate to the city. The mission on this table was an objective in each deployment zone, the Disorder one was the gate itself, while the Order player could place one anywhere in his deployment zone and the twist was Orbital Debris which represented each side firing ordinance at each other. The Order player got the Kill Order Sudden Death card and the Tactical Reserves Ruse card while the Disorder player got the Blunt Sudden Death card and the Dug In Ruse Card.
The gate is the key. You can infiltrate, drop troops behind it, breach a wall, but that will only allow a trickle of forces beyond. It is the weakest point in any wall, and thus the most heavily defended. The defenders are prepared with fortifications, but the invaders will expend extra resources and lives in order to break their way through, ordinance and heavy weapons pounding each side killing hundreds. Once the gate is breached the invaders will be able to assault the city en masse with heavy tanks and cumbersome monsters too large to drop in or sneak through the sewers. The gate is the key.
This was one of the couple tables that actually changed as the rounds changed. The first round was the Order players attacking the gate, the second round was the Order player having broken through the gate and are flooding into the city. The terrain had to be moved around to represent this. It wasn't a big deal as only 2 of the tables had this kind of involvement required.
Another table was set up with minimal terrain to represent the Order team's backfield, the area that would potentially get counter attacked by Disorder forces trying to disrupt supply lines and the command structure.
Invaders need a continuous train of supplies supporting the front. The supply vessels can’t be too close to the front less they get targeted, thus the landing site must be a safe distance away and the supplies carted to the front where they are needed. This leaves them vulnerable to attack. Especially if the defenders assumed an attack and left forces out side of the city to perform hit and run strikes to disrupt the supply chain.
I'm not going to run down every table, and I didn't pay enough attention to the actual games to know exactly how things played out, but I took a handful of pictures which I will now messily dump right here...
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So with pictures being a thousand words, that should be more than enough on the games themselves. After it was all said and done, the Disorder team managed to edge out a win by a single point!
The Disorder team won some Dice bags full of neat little nick nacks, pins, objectives, and a bunch of the stratagem cards from the Konor campaign for their own narrative games at home. We also had a couple individual prizes.
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| The Master of Mayhem was the player with the most battle points. |
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| Fan Favourite was a combination of 2 votes, first was favourite opponent, second was favourite team mate. I encouraged players to communicate with each other before, during, and after games, this was a team event after all. I have played Shaun a number of times, and I can honestly say that he is very deserving of this award. |
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| Hobby Hero was a combination of a vote for the best looking army and the bonus points for the story. Homer was the Nurgle Daemon player and has a very good looking army with some very unconventional models and conversions. |
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| The Clutch Player was the player who did not win a single game, but scored the most tertiary points. For that, Mark was awarded the Sly Marbo model, the most clutch character in the 40K universe. |
There it is. I would like to thank everyone who participated and I would very much like to see you all again next year.
Until next time, keep them dice rollin.
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