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Newsletter November 2001 |
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Newsletter November 2001 |
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Next meeting:
Saturday November 10th 2001, at St. Johns Church Hall, Norrie St., Drury, starting at 9a.m.
Games arranged:
Morning session: 9.30 am to 1.00pm
| Damien Neems vs Peter Colson | WH40K | City Fight |
| Nick Young vs Marcel Scholz | WHFB campaign | 1000 points |
| Wade Mitchel vs Manoj Pasot | WHFB campaign | |
| Paul Kravenko vs Antony Hurdley | WHFB campaign | |
| Kevin Carberry v Arthur Young | WHAB | 2000 points |
| Graham vs Stuart Burton | WH40K | 1500 points |
| Shaun Rosewarne vs Carsten | WH40K | 1000 points |
Afternoon session: 1.30pm to 5.00pm
| Peter Colson vs Manoj Pasot | Inquisitor | |
| Marcel Scholz vs Allan Bell | Inquisitor | |
| Wade Mitchell vs Anthony Hurdley | Inquisitor | |
| Kevin Carberry vs Ken Snow | WHAB | 2000 points |
| Arthur Young vs Brian Osbourne | WHAB | 2000 points |
| Carsten vs Stuart Burton | WH40K | 1500 points |
| Shaun Rosewarne vs Paul Kravenko | WH40K | 1000 points |
| Daniel vs Graham | WH40K | 1500 points |
Copy for the news letter needs to be to me by week before we meet .- Kevin
The Forum!
Alright all, as you are undoubtedly aware by now, this space is almost formal from me, kind of nearing a permanent editorial, and there's a few things I need to get across, so please try to keep posted, I'm not sure how far this information penetrates into our gaming group, but I hope everyone can get a hold of the info that applies or interests them.
Don't forget, submissions can be made and I'll do a write up to stick something of interest from you guys in this publication, either talk to me at Games Club, or send in submissions to colson@xtra.co.nz
Cheers
-Peter
Okay, there's a lot to get through this month, so straight into it seems the best way to start
Rumours
I've seen one or two interesting rumours on the upcoming Skaven, they sound quite fun. I've decided to share, generous as I am |
SKaven Magic looks pretty fun, being able to plague a whole heap o' people, zzzzapp them (and yourself if you aren't careful) with warp-lightning, breath pestilencial breath, or death-frenzy your own troops (painful, very painful. Basically twice the effect of frenzy, but you lose D3 MODELS from the unit, very costly if cast on your frenzied Rat Ogres, grr) |
An interesting change here, Irresistable Force works different for the Skaven, instead of double 6's, Skaven get Irresistable Force if their magic roll totals 13 |
The army gets a whole host of interesting new army-wide special rules. We all know Skaven are so cowardly they make Goblins look brave (I'm expecting a comment from Kevin about goblins here, hehe), and to further emphasis this fact, when Skaven flee, they flee an additional inch over what they roll |
Skaven are the only army in the game allowed to fire into combats involving their own troops, and when this happens, roll a D6 for each shot. On a 4-6 the enemy are hit, but on a 1-3, roll again. This second roll, a 4-6 hits the enemy, but 1-3 hits friendly. |
Then there is the 'Lead From Behind' rule, which allows Skaven Characters to lead units by standing at the back touching the back rank, confering all the usual leadership bonus for characters in units. They're also allowed more leeway with refused challenges |
A couple of units get a little better, namely Skaven Packmasters, Screaming Bell, Poison Wind Globadiers, and Jezzails which now hit with S6! |
Also, there are a couple new toys to play with, such as the Ratling Gun! |
The way this works is it is a short-ranged war machine, carried by a team similar to a warpfire thrower (picture a warpfire thrower team armed with an assault cannon, that's pretty much it) with a range of something like 18" |
When fired, roll a D6, and this is the amount of automatic at S4 -2 Save hits that you make. You may then roll another D6 for more hits, then another, and then another, until you roll a number you have already rolled. When that happens, something has gone wrong |
Then there's the Warp Cannon, which apparently has a few similarities with chariots (destroyed on S7+ hits...) and gives off a blast of energy with both random range and strength |
Certain Core units can be taken so long as these units don't outnumber the number of clanrat units present in the army, as a way to restrict the more specialised troops at disposal to the Skaven that don't quite make it to 'Special' or 'Rare'. I think this should have been applied to the Dark Elves army, as most of the DE army list is contained in the Special and Rare units section of the list |
The Skaven also get a couple new units (night runners among them, like down-scale gutter runners), and some units get new rules to play with, all seem rather interesting and will likely add a lot of flavour to the game |
However, the Doomwheel and Vermin Lord were not spotted on the list, which sort of marks them out to be possible re-releases like the Empire Steamtank |
And a new character, a Clan Moulder Beastmaster, gives bonuses to leadership tests for Clan Moulder units |
Well, that's basically the interesting and useful bits I got, hope you enjoyed that =) |
Now...
The Warhammer Fantasy Campaign
This is going quite well, and we have now welcomed some new players to the fold, these being Manoj with his Dark Elves, Marcelle with the dreaded Chaos Warriors, Nick borrowing my Dwarves, and Paul borrowing my Lizardmen (dear God, ANOTHER Lizardmen player)
For these players, and others with a mere 3 territories, I think I may lift my 'One Game A Month' restriction, as the restriction is only in place to prevent those in power from becoming even more powerful, while those without power get shafted.
Now, for those who may find this information interesting, here is the LADDER OF POWER!
The players here are ranked from most powerful/successful, to least powerful/successful, and beside their place in this ranking system is a number indicating how many territories they have.
Peter-8
Damien-7
Wade, Andrew-5
Anthony, Noel-4
Allan, Glenn, Manoj, Marcelle, Nick, Paul-3
Ye Olde Warhammer Fantasy Tournament!
Okay, the tournament IS going to take place.
Specifically, it will be happening this coming January meeting, coincidentally the same time the club membership fees are due
It will be an all-day event, and it looks to be pretty popular, so I may have to start taking reservations
Now, normally at the club, there is usually space for 6 tables... however, I have an idea of how to squeeze a 7th table in. Bearing in mind that not everyone at the club plays fantasy, or is interested in the tournament, that may mean leaving one table to non-fantasy players. Which means, at best, I can probably fit in 12 players on the 6 tables I can have up
Remembering there is a lot of us who are showing interest, I will be taking down a list of names from those who would like to have their spot in the tournament assured. Booking a spot is completely free, and is the best way to assure I give weight to your argument for being allowed to play in the tournament if we have to turn some people away. I will take bookings as of November's meeting.
The tournament size is set at 1,500 points.
Armies are to follow all the usual restrictions for games of that size, and all restrictions laid out in in respective Army Book
Army lists will be required for close inspection, which I actually WILL DO this time, to make sure nothing is wrong
Alternative army lists, those provided at the back of the Army Books (like the Dwarf Engineers Guild Expedition) are not to be taken unless you ask my permission and I allow it
It goes without saying that you cannot change your army and army list from game to game. Same list for all games.
Stand-in models may be allowed, so long as they are fairly indicative of what they are supposed to represent
A request also, for the sake of speedy gameplay, please, please, PLEASE make some Movement Trays for your troops, this, I'm sure, will be greatly appreciated by everyone. Just a bit of cardboard cut to the right size and there you go
Through the course of the day, each player will play three games.
I will ensure that no-one plays the same player twice, and will try my best to make it so that no player plays on the same table twice, if at all possible
At 9.00am administrative activities, such as confirmation of players, assigning them with a number and a sheet of paper to keep score on (do not lose this piece of paper or you forfeit any and all chance of winning the tournament), and preparing the tables to be played on with terrain and so on, is to take place.
Then, at 9:30, the first round starts.
From 9:30 to 9:45 players make their way to their allotted table, greet their opponent, ask any questions they deem necessary before the game (such as "Do those Dwarves have Heavy Armour, or is it just light?" or "Is this hill steep and difficult terrain, or is it not steep, and poses no movement penalty?" and so on), Deploy their armies, and make idle threats in whatever spare time is left. From 9:45 to 11:15 they play the game, to a maximum of 6 turns.
From 11:15 to 11:30 they work out the victory points and results from the game, and score their opponent on all the aspects they are to be marked on (I will detail this later) and then pack up their models.
From 11:30, we have lunch. It is common courtesy for the winner to shout the loser a pie, but this is not a required part of the day
At 12 noon, the next round starts, again with the 15 minute preperation period, hour-and-a-half playing time, and final 15 minute tallying of points and so on
Then, round three, much as round two and round one, has the 15 minute preperation, hour-and-a-half playing time, and final 15 minute tallying and so on.
Then, all players sheets are returned to me, I put all the scores together, and then announce the winner, second place, and third place, all of which get wonderful and classy certificates to let them know they're better than everyone =)
Oh, and they also get money too
The way you win the tournament is by getting the best score.
Your score is a total of lots of points you get for certain things.
These certain things are as follows:
VICTORY POINTS: each time you play a game, and kill stuff, capture standards, claim table quarters, and so on, you get victory points. These indicate how good you are at playing, kind of.
GAME RESULT: each time you play, the result of the game will either be a Draw, Minor Victory, Solid Victory, or a MASSACRE! The result of the game determines how many extra points I give you at the end of the tournament, obviously if you win a massacre, you will be rewarded more than if you won a minor victory
PAINTING/APPEARANCE: each of your three opponents will fairly judge your painting ability and the general appearance of your army. This score will be added to your total, so the better your army's appearance, the more you will recieve for it
SPORTSMANSHIP: affectionately known as the Brown-Noser Award, your opponents will score you on your sportsmanship, your playing manner. If you are enjoyable to play against and encourage an atmosphere of light-hearted enjoyment you will score well. If you're an absolute bastard to play against, and argue and quibble over everything, and get angry if things don't go as planned, then your mark her will, understandably, not be that helpful
GENERALSHIP: the better a tactician you are, the better you will place here. If you have well thought-out strategies and understand the flow of the battle well, you will score well. If you don't think beyond "move towards him and hit him with sticks" and your success depends on luck more than anything else, then you will score poorly. Be careful in awarding these points, because good luck might be hiding good tactics, if your opponent is lucky it doesn't always mean he's a poor tactician
ARMY COMPOSITION: The more fair and interesting someone's army composition, the better. If you can see a good theme in it, or if it looks balanced, well thought-out, fair, and sensible, then this will be rewarded. If it's a bastard list, or has stupid choices, or was designed to be the meanest, cheesiest piece of crap this side of Pizza The Hut (gotta love Spaceballs) then this will not do wonders for your score. A word of caution, however, PLEASE bear in mind that FAIR does not mean WEAK, just because your opponent takes an effective and competative unit does not make his list 'sad' or 'beardy'. A Dwarf army consisting of two units of Warriors, two units of Thunderers, and a large unit of Ironbreakers to support the thunderers isn't a bad list, however a Chaos Warrior army consisting of two minimial-sized units of Marauders and the rest Chaos Knights and Dragon Ogres IS a rather sad list
If there are other aspects of the hobby/game that you think need taking into consideration, please tell me and I'll consider including them. I think this list fairly represents the important aspects of the hobby, even though I feel like I'm missing something...
I think that's about it for now.
Any feedback, don't hesitate to give me a shout =)
And lastly, Inquisitor!
I've gathered support for the Inquisitor campaign, there is a fair amount of you already interested in it, and many more I hope will decide they'd like to jump in and have a go too
Of course, this also means it's about time we had a bit of background, a world to fight in, so that our guys can have personalities and character, ambitions and goals to drive them onward, and a setting to interact with properly.
THAT means it's time for me to write down the background, so we can group everyone together in a proper, cohesive story with a minimum of inconsistencies. So, without further ado, I present to you:
The Embattled Moon of Cerberus 2!
History
Laying near half-way between Catachan and Atilla, a little to the galactic south, in the inner region of Segmentum Ultima, was the planet of Cerberus.
A bustling hive of black market profiteering hidden behind the veneer of reputable industries, the outward appearance of the planet was that of a loyal planet, an excellent example of what a human global civilisation should be, a moral jewel in the Imperium's crown. Unfortunately, it was the darker side of Cerberus which characterised this planet, it's success, and ultimate downfall.
No secrets, no matter how well hidden, stay secret from the Holy Inquisitors of the Ordos Hereticus, and all doctrinal deviancy within the Imperium is met with harsh, often extreme and unwarrented, reprisal. Thus was the fate of Cerberus. Once the truth of it's success was revealed to the High Lords of Terra, they ordered Cerberus Scoured immediately. Crime is ever present within humanity, but on a planetary scale, being the sole source of prosperity, it is tantamount to heresy. Not a single cell of life stirs on the utterly barren and desolate surface of Cerberus now, a stark reminder that no crime will ever go unpunished.
Cerberus 2
During it's period of prosperity, Cerberus was a vast and awe-inspiring trading community, and it was hardly suprising that the Imperial Merchant Guild would have strong presence there. Wherever trade and credits flow, the Merchant Guild plies trade with authority. The full authority of Imperial Sanction, in fact.
Therefore, one of the premier trading communities in the entire galaxy-spanning Imperium, Cerberus sported a Chapter House of the Imperial Merchant Guild, or rather, it's single, tiny moon did.
A vast and impressive star-port, the satellite circling Cerberus was an important link in all inter-planetary and inter-systemary dealings with relation to Cerberus, yet was under no authority of the inhabitants of Cerberus planet, and thus was overlooked by the High Lords of Terra when ordering the scouring.
This was to prove a grave error of judgement, and the most fortuitous of mistakes, for a community came to rise on the moon, soon known as Cerberus 2, that itself was more wicked and enthusiastically illicit then it's predecessor, Cerberus. The Merchant Guild directors were no fools, and understood where the strength of the Cerberian economy lay, and greed being such a composite part of human nature, the new community followed suit in a more dramatically successful, and damnably wicked, way then before.
It took several decades for their mistake in leniency to become known to the High Lords of Terra, and when they learnt of it, reactions were mixed, but violent. That the cretins would simply carry on in their wickedness, to a greater extent than before, was an insult most terrible, and cries for vengeance were immediate and difficult to silence. However, a minority of the High Lords of Terra opposed the proposal of once more scouring this determined community. This was not enough to stay the execution of the moon, and the opposition would have accounted for nought but for the intervention of the Inquisition. Certain members of the Inquisition have glanced at fate when looking at this unassuming moon, and are aware that it's existence is of great importance to the Imperium. Others are aware of the awesome potential of this moon for their own investigations and purposes. Few are rash enough to believe the moon deserving of Scouring, and so the word of the Emperor's Inquisition stays the vengeful hand of the High Lords of Terra, although this preservation is fragile at best, and all it needs is one foot wrong and the moon will doom itself to the same fate as it's planet.
From distance, Cerberus 2 appears a shining silver gem. The vast open plains, with gentle rolling dune hills, consists of rock and sand, both high in minerals whose combination gives the sands and rocks a grey to icy-white appearance, and reflective properties when struck by the right light. Expanses at the poles of the moon Cerberus 2 are given over to bitterly col ice-rock canyons, a massive warren of paths and caves, and rising spires, and chasms full of razor-sharp stalagmite-like rocky outcrops.
Closer to the equatorial zone are vast lakes, filled with an undrinkable liquid like liquid silver, a grey flowing liquid with a dull, oily sheen. A constant chemical reaction, due to an instability, a weakness, in the component elements of this unidentified substance, causes brilliant corruscations to float and waver over the 'silver water', in a dazzling show of lights, which the original culture that inhabited Cerberus Planet may have worshipped.
All human habitations on Cerberus 2 are found partway between the equatorial lakes and the polar crags, in three vast cities, two north of the lakes, one south. There are rumours also that a number of renegade populations may in fact be hiding in the treacherous confines of the northern crags, although how or even why anyone would live there is beyond understanding to many.
The capital city of Cerberus 2, found in the northern half of the moon, is the vast city of Stykz. Originally the vast space-port of the Merchant Guild, it has grown to a tremendous size from such humble beginnings. Central to the city is the immense palace of the ruling class, the Merchant Directors, all under the absolute leadership of the Merchant-Governor. The Merchant Estate, as the palace is known, is a nigh-impregnable fortress, and the massive structure at it's very centre, the Merchant Palace, even more so.
To the south and south-west is the vast sprawling complex of galactic Star-Ports, an enlargement of the original Starport, with the original Chapter House of the Merchant Guild to the west, although this has grown and changed somewhat into a seperatist community in a number of large and many-functional buildings known only as The Merchant Quarter, where only members of the Merchant Guild, and those who have recieved invitation from such, are welcome. This is enforced with extreem prejudice by the merchant guard.
The neighbourhoods roughly just north of the Merchant Estate is know as the Centre of Commerce, where the more prominent names in buisness and trading make thier deals and transactions, and large corporations wanting representation in the Cerberian market have their business holdings in this area of the city.
Laying between the Centre of Commerce and the Merchant Quarter (vaguely to the northwest of the Merchant Estate) is the shipping terminals, connecting the Centre of Commerce to the Starports further south, and beyond that out of the city and through the equatorial zone to the only city in the southern hemisphere of Cerberus 2; and northwest until leaving the main city, where the shipping courses travel generally west to the last of the population centres on Cerberus 2. The shipping of goods is guarded closely, and protected at the utmost, by the ruling class, for shipping is the lifeblood of Cerberus 2, and all commerce comes from reputation, reputation falls as reliability and safety do.
In the northeast can be found the Merchant's Parade, a huge and impressive boulevard whereupon can be found the state houses of esteemed members of the Merchant Guild and Trade Society, and those rich enough to buy themselves a good name. The street is adorned with great works of art, and has been extensively terraformed to be a virtual paradise for those who must endure this moon yet are rich enough to make that sufferance less. Between the Parade and the Centre of Commerce is the Relay Stations, nexus points for a network of Oxygen and Electrical lines, among other things vital to modern societies.
Just south of the Merchant Parade is the Guard House, headquarters of the powerful Merchant Guard, the closest it comes to law enforcement on Cerberus 2. It goes without saying that the Merchant Guard are almost as corrupt as their Merchant masters. Only the greatest of fools would try anything near the Guard House, or the most suicidal of people, for the Guard House is defended almost as strongly as the Merchant Estate, and the Guards themselves have little reluctance to abuse citizens without reason. In fact, some seem to take every opportunity they can to do so. Just to the east of the Guard House is the Factorum Munitius, the weapons factories, which are among the most successful and reputable of Cerberus' legal revenues, and certainly among the most important.
Just south and east of the Merchant Estate is the Agridome, the preeminent agricultural centre on the entire of Cerberus 2, given over partly to the production of foodstuffs for the inhabitants of Cerberus 2, partly for the fairness of an agricultural paradise for those who are so inclined to spend their time and not fortunate enough to own their own terraformed grounds.
Well, there is much to say, but I would rather not burden the newsletter with such a large body of writing just now, more information shall be serialised through the Forums in the coming months, to give you all a bit more of a feel for the world we'll be fighting in
Tune in next month for the hotspots in the city Stykz, the nature of the beast (the population and demographics), and *DRAMATIC PAUSE!* The Big Three!
Cheers
-Peter Colson, resident slave and freelance editor (and suspected Mutie)
Battle Reports
| Wade (Dark Elves) narrowly defeated Anthony (Lizardmen) |
| The morning before battle, a lithe elven figure enters the lord's tent, seemingly female. |
| The lord Maraka'leith Onyx-blade moves into the shadowy recess of his small hold. |
| "My lord, the vile lizards seem to be here sooner than expected" the figure spoke in a femanine tone. |
| "Well, are our troops ready?!" |
| "They are" the lord was almost entranced by that soft velvety voice. |
| In agitation, the lord replies "Attack the lizards before they attack US!" |
| The flawless figure turns to leave, but before exiting completely, the lord speaks |
| "One more thing, Valanthelasa..... inform me how the battle ends" |
| The graceful elf leaves. |
| A few hours later, the lithe figure enters once more |
| "Victory, my lord, but at great loss" |
| "How great?" Maraka'leith asks calmly |
| "We were left with only ten repeater crossbowmen, and less than half of the nobles and their cold ones" |
| "I see... and captain Korax? The sorceresses?" |
| "They rest under a massive stone from the heavens, my lord" |
| "I knew Korax always had rocks for brains" Maraka'leith mumbled to himself |
| "What was that?" |
| "Nothing..." Maraka'lieth replied, smiling to himself. "...you may leave now" |
| "Yes, my lord" |
| No further details recorded.. |
.
Manoj (Dark Angels) beat Nick (Midnight Marines)
| The Midnight Marines, led by Captain Octavius of the 3rd Company, had just been given their marching orders by Chapter Master Azrael of the Dark Angels. |
| Azrael had just been informed that the Midnight Marines had information regarding a contingent of the Fallen, and prepared an ambush upon the Midnight Marines which would cast no suspiscions on his actions or that of his chapter. |
| So, alas, the unsuspecting Midnight Marines were travelling in standard formation as dictated by Codex Astartes, when suddenly a small, elite force of Dark Angels engaged them, causing horrendous casualties. |
| Octavius then tried to redeploy, but still could not discern who had attacked him and killed his beloved terminators and a whole squad of good marines. |
| Interrogator-Chaplain Ahrimish of the Dark Angels, who had informed Azrael of the information the Midnight Marines held, and Master Be-sol ordered a full frontal assault with all squads emerging from their firing positions and gunning down marines mercilessly. |
| Soon, all that was left on the battlefield was Octavius and his retinue running away to await reinforcements. To stop the word of the Dark Angel's attack from being transmitted, soon Octavius was surrounded and ready for interrogation when he declared a challange to Be-sol. Honourable Be-sol accepted. |
| The titanic battle begins, with Octavius being quickly put onto the defence. Be-sol was starting to enjoy this fight, and was becoming overconfident, and recieved a few minor injuries for his over-extension, but cleaved Octavius' head in two the very instant Octavius' bolt pistol discharged and slew the mighty Dark Angels commander. |
| Now under the command of Ahrimish, the Dark Angels wiped out the remaining Midnight Marines to a man. |
| Even though the Midnight Marines were destroyed, this loss of their Commander meant no information could be gathered on the Fallen. With this insight, Ahrimish pays penance for the loss of Be-sol and 5 Terminators, a land-speeder, vindicator, and the ancient Dreadnought Tor-kal |
| Thought for the day: The Emperor's divine light will
redeem us all.
|
| Peter (Empire) Beat Damien (Vampire Counts) |
| Sitting in the dim candle light in his command pavillion, Karlson fingered the hilt of his ornamental deulling knife, running his finger along the blade, hardly aware of the blood drawn in doing so. |
| Success had come so easily to him thus far. So easily. |
| Already his men had cleared a sizeable portion of the valley of any resistance. Truth be told, he quite probably possessed the largest estate in this entire new land. |
| The lizard beasts were met and run-down, and they had cowered since. As did the elves. Armies had marched from the field at the very sight of his personal banner, the golden skull on black field, and written 'pon scrollwork the old saying, Dulce et Decorum est Pro Patria Mori, 'It is good and honourable to die for your country' |
| He chuckled to himself. That was a lie if ever he heard one, but his men seemed to believe it. Some had even followed it to the letter. Better them than me, the opinion he'd always held. Better yet were those of the enemy who had died for HIS country. It was his, now, this vast land, his for the taking. |
| And take it he does. |
| Word had reached him early that day that the dread vampire Darian Balthor was on the move. That left plenty of time to prepare. An army of corpses takes a lot of time to march. So far that loathesome leech was the only pitiful foe in this entire Gods-forsaken valley who could even approach being a challange to Karlson Leitdorf and his realm... sometimes he considered letting his enemies all live, just so he could have them to entertain him |
| Shaking his head to bring himself back to the present, Karlson became aware of his bleeding finger, and sucked at it agitatedly. Perhaps he would do the same later, just to taunt that over glorified tick Darian |
| He could just show up on the field of battle with his full retinue and frighten the vampire off as he had that beastly lizard-man horde, and the elves who tried to take land the following week. But his men were growing complacent, to comfortable in effortless victory. There might come a time when someone could actually pose a half-decent threat. No, complacency simply will not do |
| So he had swore the scouts to secrecy. Like all good servants, they obeyed without question. Good that, he'd have to kill them otherwise, and good help is so hard to find. |
| So now, with but a mere fraction of his armed forces to defend against 'lord' Darian's assault, he sat impatiently awaiting the warning trumpets that would becry an impending attack |
| Perhaps half an hour passed before the call came, but when it did, the entire encampment sprung to action |
| The handgunners and crossbowmen lined up in firing formation, his personal guard ranking up behind them, flanked on either side by the deullists who he'd been accustomed to fighting on the flanks of his units, and the knights of the White Wolf, and those of the Imperial Order of Averland prepared themselves on the left flank of their deployment, ready to advance around the hill there to perform a flanking action |
| The Undead marched into view, a large unit of zombies holding the centre, flanked by two smaller units of Skeletons, Dire wolves and Black Knights to their right, and three Fell Bats, and a group of ghouls milling around in front of the right-side Skeletons |
| The air rang with the thunderous crack of handguns sending lead bullets ripping into the ghouls and Fell Bats. When the smoke cleared, one of the Fell Bats was gone, and the ghouls were fleeing, but in all, that volley was pitiful |
| The Undead shambled forward, the Fell Bats flying to cower behind the tower just forward of the hill the knights were skirting, the dire wolves racing forward with the Black Knights behind them. The ghouls stopped fleeing soon, and spent some time re-orienting themselves |
| As they advanced, however, the deadly rain of bullets and crossbow bolts started to wear away at their numbers, and the Necromancer accompanying the army was assassinated by one of the marksmen with his trusty Hochland Longrifle. The best purchase the man had ever made. |
| As the undead closed in, the Fell Bats charged a unit of crossbowmen, accompanied by the Bright Wizard Lucas Ferdinand, and drove them from the field, cutting them down as they ran. |
| Unfortunately for lord Darian Balthor, his advance had splintered, with his black knights being engaged by the pious and enraged Knights of the White Wolf, and after a drawn-out combat, were destroyed, just as the ghouls behind them were eradicated by the Knights of the Imperial Order of Averland. |
| As the zombies advanced toward the handgunners, the handgunners fled, revealing the gleaming, polished black-laquered armour of the Greatswords of the Dark Vale Realm, and Captain Karlson Leitdorf, whom the zombies crashed into before they could halt their charge. The brave men of the Empire hewed limbs from bodies left right and centre, and in a short time were done with the zombies, the corpses once more lifeless |
| The Vampire and his guard of Skeletons were greatly reduced by the time they made contact with the enemy, but handgunners cannot stand before the martial prowess of a vampire for long, and were soon fleeing |
| Unfortunately, by this time the battle was over, the only units remaining in the Undead army all severely mauled |
| The vampire Darian Balthor stared in shock as his horde cumbled to dust before his eyes, and noticed he could no longer feel the winds of magic |
| As 8 robed figures stepped forward, realisation dawned on him. 8 men, one for each of the 8 winds of the magic lores, all holding the flows from him. It took all 8 flows to sever someone from magic. He was helpless, held still by the force of iron-willed wizards, and staring down the barrells of nearly 50 handguns and crossbows |
| The leader of the army stepped forward, removing his helmet and his gauntlets, pulling a dagger from his belt, and sliding it across his fingertip, drawing blood. Darian's mouth watered with hunger |
| "Now, leech, I will dictate the terms of your surrender. If you agree to them, we may make... beneficial, accomodations. Fail to meet them, and I will destroy you." |
| That last was stated so matter-of-factly that had Darian warm blood, it would have run cold |
| Karlson's grin was pure evil personified. |
| This land was changing him. He no longer cared. |
The Hit, four-man Inquisitor game between Anthony, Damien, Peter, and Wade
The HitHis chest hurt. Oh God did his chest hurt.
How long had he been running? Three hours? Four? Six hours wouldn’t surprise him, truth be told.
It had been going so well, SO WELL! Until that accursed chief blew EVERYTHING!
The revolutionaries were all in his pocket, every one of them. He was a GOD among them!
Taking the plasma weaponry shipment would give levity to their religious fervour, his force of so many would give him the power to take what he wanted then. The Imperial Government would KNEEL before him and beg to kiss his feet.
Until HE ruined everything.
God this crate was heavy…
He should’ve fixed him when he had the chance, he should’ve squeezed the trigger
Kaylus would be dead. Finished. He would never have to worry about that jealous thorn in the side.
He should’ve done it.
Sh’Kaa stopped running then. Surely the Arbites wouldn’t follow this far into the bad zone? Imperial law has a tentative presence on Cerberus 2 at best, and everyone knows, the Bad Zones are very, very far from ‘best’
He had to get rid of this crate. He’s a marked man if he has a crate of the Holy Imperium’s Plasma Weaponry. He needed to get rid of the crate.
No, what he needed was money. Money and power, and influence. Merchant Governor Qrixus would kiss his ring and bow down. He would.
No, not yet. Not yet. NO-ONE ruins the plans of Sh’Kaa, the Dark Shaman. Kaylus, yes…
Kaylus, the pompous fool. He could have had an army of brainless loyal body shields, with the most potent weaponry in the whole Imperium! If it hadn’t been for cursed Kaylus Crouching Tiger! It was all within his grasp until that brainless oaf opened fire and invited the Arbites into a damned firefight! And HIS men armed only with hand-bows and muskets! By the dark Gods, does one need to be born with such rampant stupidity, or is it a talent acquired through time?
He had to sell this damned crate… all except for his new toy. Mk III plasma core chamber, rifled pistol barrell. Yes, how fitting it would be to dispose of that old fool with the very same weapon he sought for himself. Yes…
* * *
Merchant-Governor Qrixus sat in his throne room in the highest spire of his palace.
Sipping the most delicate red wine money can buy. He examined the black-clad figure standing impatiently before him, his eyes lingering on… certain aspects, of her form. The standard black stealth suit of the devotees of the Cult of the Temple of Shadow left little to the imagination, little to nothing. This was good. Qrixus hated imagination. It clutters the mind and robs it of reality. And he liked to feed his eyes on delicious sights. Delicious sights indeed…
No, focus, keep focus.
"Well now, my dear" the black clad barely moved, but immediately her stance gained an air of hostility.
"It seems, tender girl, that the native coup met with mixed success. I have had reports. It seems that the chief, this ‘Crouching Tiger’, has met with an untimely end, and there is dissension within the ranks of the revolution. What remains, therefore we must assume, is left firmly in the hands of this shaman" he filled that last word with contempt. How he hated these troublesome local customs. That is why he suppressed them so ruthlessly. The natives should be thankful for his granting them a PROPER civilisation.
"Now, my pretty, I will be greatly pleased if you would bring me the head of this shaman. Oh, and if at all possible, bring the crate of Plasma Weaponry back with you. We can’t leave those out there for the industrials to us on our honest, decent, hard-working criminals can we? Now be a dear and run off and bring me the cretin’s head. I’ll await your return, my lovely"
She turned gracefully… with all the grace of a viper about to bite.
Qrixus stared intently at the way the assassin’s body moved underneath the black synth-skin of her stealth suit. Yes, quite delicious.
And flexible too, he imagined, turning back to stare out over his domain
* * *
The shaman walked into the tavern, eyes instantly adjusting to the dark. One of the gifts granted by his patron. He walked slowly and deliberately toward the bald man with a jet black beard covering only his chin, oiled to a point, and reaching up to his bottom lip.
"I have a business proposition, Shark"
"Doesn’t everyone?" the bald man chuckled.
Lenny. Lenny the Shark, a big man in crime here, one of the biggest. Considered by most to be a user-friendly criminal, except those who had tried to cross him. THOSE had difficulty thinking anything, and often as not took their meals through a straw…
"I want to talk to Salvador" Sh’Kaa muttered contemptuously
"Sembrand? YOU?! HA! And why is that, gutterscum? You got an aerodynamic rock you think to be the most powerful weapon in the Imperium? Don’t waste my time, dreamwalker, you’re threadbare AND ugly, you have no business I want. I can’t even whore you out, even if you did something about your stink"
Sh’Kaa drew and cocked his Plasma pistol in one smooth motion
"They say there’s no arguing with the barrell of a gun" Sh’Kaa cursed quietly. The whole tavern was quiet, except for the click the safety lock being taken off a stubber that had seemed to have materialised in the hand of a large and dangerous man standing suddenly next to Sh’Kaa, the gun pressed against his temple. Of course, every man here worked for the Shark.
There was a flicker, and the bright flare of super-heated particles atomising a mans head. Sh’Kaa was now standing behind the corpse of the man who was pointing his gun at where Sh’Kaa’s head WAS.
"You are fast, gutterscum, I’ll give you that. What is that, by the way? Mk II? Mk III? Void Eagle casing. Nice, man, nice. You got any more of this? If so, I might just find it in my heart to contact Salvador for you. For 10 percent of the profit, of course. A man’s gotta eat too ya know"
* * *
Jack Daniels sat on an upturned crate, taking occasional swigs from his hip-flask of whiskey, and polishing his stubber. Staring into the darkness, he waited.
"Maverick?" A cautious voice called out of the darkness. The man knew stealth, it would be impossible to pick out where that voice came from
"I’m alone, friend, come out"
The battle-scarred man emerging from the shadows had a noticeable limp, and his right arm hung loose at his side. It was a testiment to his inate abilities that he could sneak up on Maverick unnoticed. He was always the stealthy one.
"What’s this favour you ask of, old man?" ‘Maverick’ Jack Daniels called
"Old man? I’m only a year older than you, you crazy old fool" the stranger chuckled
"I never denied being an old man, Kaylus" Maverick grinned. No ties, he’d promised, but maybe just this one he could keep. He owed the man that much. "You still haven’t answered me"
Kaylus nodded, his mirth vanishing quickly, replaced with a sombre and serious expression
"Betrayal, Maverick. My kinsmen were used, and I turned on, by the shaman Sh’Kaa-"
"I don’t care about politics" Maverick cut in sharply
"He tried to kill me as I lay unconscious" Kaylus admitted. He never liked admitting when he was helpless.
Maverick took notice of this. For all his grim and gruff exterior, he DID have a sense of honour, and killing a defenceless man, especially one working with you, is an affront to any mans honour
"Okay, Kaylus, without the politics, tell me what you want"
"I want Sh’Kaa killed. He is an evil man, Maverick. I feel it every time I look at him. If he is not stopped, there will be much grief on Cerberus"
"Okay, I’m listening"
"I want you to take him out, Maverick. I would myself, but…" Kaylus indicated his useless arm. "I want you to take him out. He should have with him a box of plasma weaponry. If you can get that, I would like that also, though you may keep anything you want from it…"
Maverick spat. Plasma weapons… inaccurate, unreliable. Disgusting. There was no art to them. He’d sooner stab a man than shoot him with plasma
"…you can loot the corpse. But I want his head"
Maverick nodded as he listened. One favour. One favour, and that was it.
* * *
Sembrand el Salvador, tall, lean, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, leaned patiently against a wall, wondering when the last time he’d visited a decent brothel was.
He turned at the sound of a throat being cleared, and stared at the shaman who could not have been there seconds ago.
"Well met, witch" Salvador flourished a bow and smiled a roguish grin. Sh’Kaa just grunted sourly
"Have you got the crate, my friend? Or were you planning to bargain with horsefeathers? It smells as if you’ve been standing around enough horses’ arses to find one or two feathers, I’ll grant you that" Sembrand’s smile exuded good nature, but his eyes glared disgust.
With a curse, the shaman placed the crate in front of Salvador.
"My, aren’t we the sour one today?" Salvador taunted playfully
"It’s all there, pirate, lets not pretend we’re fond of each other any longer than we have to" Sh’Kaa bit off each word
"It’s all there, EXCEPT for one Mk III Void Eagle pistol, which I notice is currently holstered on your grimy hip, friend"
"You’re not the only wanted man in the Imperium, pirate" Sh’Kaa growled
"Someone wants you? Stupidity is more rampant than I’d supposed. Still, no matter. You promised me the moon and the stars, when all I really need is an asteroid or two" Salvador replied with his winning smile
"The moon is mine, pirate. You’d do well to remember that"
"Are either of you bulletproof?" Sh’Kaa and Salvador froze, not daring to move. Maverick stepped out of the shadows, a pistol in each hand, and murder in his eyes.
"Not sure? I’d advise standing very, very still is you’d rather not find out"
Although Sembrand stood frozen to the spot, his mind raced at a tremendous pace. Who was this guy? What's he doing here? What does he want? How did he know there'd be anyone here? It must be a set-up, he thought. That vile, grotesque native set him up. That's the way I would have done it, Sembrand thought dryly to himself. Accursed shaman, but you have to admire his style
Sh'Kaa's mind was no more indolent than Sembrand's. The manner of speech was familiar, just tickling his memory. His body took on a faint glow, his form becoming misty as he slowly turned. Before he had turned halfway, Maverick had unleashed a salvo of automated fire at the shaman, and stared in wonder as every bullet flew through him, a corrona of light sliding over his body from each shot, before flickering into nothingness as the the bullet that caused each exited the space his body-image occupied. He completed his turn, and stared calculatingly at Maverick's face, recognition slowly dawning on his features, and being rapidly replaced by grim, resolute hatred. All he said was "You are a dead man" before flickering and disappearing.
Maverick cursed, and immediately returned his aim to Sembrand, who had been trying to slink off unnoticed.
"Perhaps we can reach an understanding...?" Sembrand began with a hopeful smile
"I'm holding two loaded pistols, with the safety off, and you are not. Understand?" Maverick replied without a hint of amusement
"Quite. A fan of dry wit, I see. Why is it that someone else's sense of humour is readily accompanied by MY sense of dread?" Sembrand reached down to his belt buckle like lightning, activating a small refractor field as he turned and sprinted away, bullets ricocheting off his field. With expert agility and dexterity, he picked up a discarded pipe, dived through a hole in the ground, and slid down
"This is gonna be a long day" Maverick grumbled. He could really do with a good strong drink right about now.
A dark figure, hidden in shadows, watched with detached interest. New developments...
* * *
Sembrand crouched with his back to the wall, gulping down air and trying to think of a way of of this mess.
It was then that he noticed a shadow some distance to his right moving. He realised just who it was when it started glowing. That damn shaman! In anger he fingered his prized duelling pistol, releasing the safety lock, before remembering how effective shooting the man was when he glowed like that. He contented himself to sit and wait.
Sh'Kaa drifted slowly across the old steel walkway. The low quarter was a home of sorts to him, his mind was better than any map here, he could FEEL this place. Onward, he drifted, ever onward. Movement caught his eye, to his left, in the distance, Maverick, running to cover. He was about to die, and soon after, the man who sent him. Let no man stand in the way of Sh'Kaa and his plans, and live. Drifting past Sembrand, that man was marked already, Sh'Kaa could feel the assassin sneaking up on him, he drifted along another walkway. Simply shooting the bounty hunter wouldn't gaurantee anything, not when the man was hiding behind a foot of plasteel. Sh'Kaa turned his attention to three barrells sitting accross the end of the walkway, a dark and malicious smile blooming on his face. He called his body back to real-space, feeling the weight of reality crash back, almost dragging him down. He always felt so sluggish when he left the warp like that. Aiming his shotgun at the barrel closest to Maverick, he fired, a solid shell screaming through the steel drum, sparking as metal met metal at high speed, the barrel erupting in a huge inferno, the fury of the heat setting both remaining barrels off in similar explosions. The mournful wail that left Maverick's lips seconds before he was engulfed in flame was priceless, a truly beautiful thing. Sh'Kaa was still chuckling maniacally as the wall of flame flashed past him. The daemon in his head roared fury at such ineptitude, and wrested control of the shaman's body as he fell to the floor, his body charred and smoking, the walkway itself melted where the barrels were.
Sembrand leapt to his feet at the sound of a huge explosion, set completely off guard. He had no time to react, or even notice, as a phantasmic green corruscation enveloped him, pressure beating at his head. He turned to see a black clad figure standing in the doorway just a few paces away. With an enraged scream, he let fly with the full clip of his duelling pistol and stubber, the scream dying in his throat as the assassin DODGED BULLETS!
A second explosion, much smaller, rocked the fortified building on which Sembrand stood, as an oxygen canister not far from him exploded, setting his leg on fire. Before he could beat it out, the assassin Shayde was upon him, cutting left and right with her power swords, driving him to the floor. In desperation, Sembrand rolled to the side, dodging the thrust of Shayde's power sword, and blasted Shayde with his stubber. At such close quarters, avoiding the clumsy fire was a simple matter, but one bullet still found it's mark in Shayde's abdomen, and she staggered back, gripping her stomach in agony. Before Sembrand had a chance to capitalise on his good fortune, Shayde levelled her Neural Shredder once more at Sembrand, and squeezed the trigger.
Sembrand panicked as the green light slid over him, feeling pressure welling up between his ears. His mind raced frantically, screaming in silence. I have to get out of here, that crumpet'll kill me! I have to get away...! Go, away... pretty, girl...
The world became black for Sembrand, his mind crushed ruthlessly, his body useless now.
Shayde snorted in contempt for the man. He had no honour, using a firearm in combat. Stepping over his immobile body, she walked around the spire of the building, to the melted platform, to investigate.
Of the bounty hunter 'Maverick', all that remained was a bubbling pool of charred fat and muscle, and melted bone. Of the shaman, there was no trace other than a darker patch in a vaguely human shape on the charred walkway. This didn't go well.
This newsletter is edited by Kevin Carberry so anything you would like included in the newsletter should be sent to me at 48 Beaumonts way, Manurewa, South Auckland. Phone 2670319, kevin@profax.co.nz
Robert "Dictator" Davies is the Club President so any queries, problems, issues or suggestions about the club should go to him at 14 Grebe Street, Manurewa. Phone 2670899.