Jorin and Bort both snap out of the effects of the mental blast at roughly the same time. Shaddar watches with humor as they take in the blood-soaked alleyway in disbelief. Their costumes and faces are speckled with dots of blood, as the bodies of the constables lie scattered around them in a rough circle.
Bort at once loses control of himself and vomits messily on the ground. Jorin’s head snaps from one dead man to the next, his mouth working soundlessly at first, but then he begins to talk in loud exclamations.
“Mist demons! What happened? Look at all the blood…”
Bort drags a sleeve across his face while muttering, “Something happened to their heads. Their heads, by all the gods!”
Shaddar decides that he must be careful with these fragile and innocent fools or he will lose them as pawns.
He steps gingerly around the corpses and guides both humans from the scene while saying, “It was horrible. Horrible. Some people from the Guild came and… well, I am too much of a gentleman – I can not say what then took place.”
“What?!”
“The Guild of Villains did this?” Both men stop moving and stare at Shaddar with utter disbelief clearly written on both their features and in their thoughts.
Shaddar turns back to wave one hand languidly at the grisly scene. “What other guild could I be referring to?”
Jorin’s instant thought is very interesting: “The Guild of Heroes I suppose, but they would never do something like this. Why would they?” Shaddar tucks this information away for later.
Bort mumbles while fearfully looking at the slowly expanding pools of red, “But they’ve never done anything like this before…”
Shaddar gently touches their minds, causing them to feel trust and calmness as he speaks. “It appears that their methods have coarsened. There is only one thing to do, fellows.” Both men turn their faces back to his. “We will form our own Guild to oppose them. We shall be the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues! You will be the first of our members and we will directly oppose the Guild of Villains.”
The sudden flare of pure cowardice that goes through both of the human’s faces turns Shaddar’s stomach, but he continues in the same tone, “And as founding members, you will get… five percent.” The fear in their expressions is now tingled with glints of avarice. Shaddar is amazed at the greed of these weak humans – as if wealth is the center of their entire world. He resolves to test another aspect of the greed humanity shares as a common character flaw. He quickly gives the minotaur a mental command.
Toothsnatcher steps forward and enters the conversation as instructed. With a deep, horrible voice he says, “Three.”
Shaddar nods briskly, “Ah, yes. I meant to say three. Three percent!”
The humans instantly respond to this challenge of their offered windfall by haggling. Jorin puffs his checks out and furrows his brow as he bellows, “Four! I demand it!”
Shaddar puts a calming hand on the minotaur’s burly arm and asks, “What do you think? Is this reasonable?” More mental instructions tell the thrall how to respond and he does so at once.
With a dissatisfied grunt the beast mutters, “Fine. Four.”
The delight at having ‘won’ the business deal is instant. Both humans look slyly at one another and Shaddar marvels at how easy they are to manipulate. “Are all humans this simple?” he wonders. It certainly appears to be so from the minds he has sampled thus far in the city.
“These fools do not even know the context for their arrangement with me!” he thinks with humor, “Four percent of what?” For a brief moment he imagines dropping a sticky mass of brains onto a table in front of these two. “Here you are! Four percent! What’s the matter? Don’t you like it? It’s your agreed upon winnings!”
He discards these idle thoughts and returns to the current situation. “Come! We must find a quiet place where we can discuss our future plans.” As he begins to walk towards what looks like a larger street, the two men stop him.
“Oh, not that way!”
“Them’s the streets. We should, you know, stick to the border zones.”
“What do you mean?” Shaddar asks.
“Well,” Jorin begins, “The streets are under the control of the constables and other proper folk. And the slums are where the Guild holds sway. In-between – where we are right now – that’s the border zones and a free spirit can make a decent living from both sides. Not as many eyes watching you here in the border.”
Interesting. Shaddar wonders who is actually in control of these people. How is such rigid order maintained here?
“Very well,” he says, “Perhaps you know of a suitable place?”
“Indeed I do,” Jorin says with a slight bow, “Follow us, sirs!”
The group leaves sight of the side-street. Left behind is a horrible scene of blood and gore as five bodies (sans their brains) are left lying in the alleyway in a massive pool of blood. Shaddar is glad that one of the constables escaped. The grim scene of death combined with the terrified report will serve to upset the balance of power in the city. A fine opening move – sure to upset and expose the players, whomever they are. “And to let them all know that things are about to change,” he thinks with malice.
As they walk, Shaddar feels almost uncomfortably full. Too many brains in too short a period of time. “I must pace myself or I will become as fat as the slave-warden, Baliforn. If he still lives.” Shaddar pushes that thought from his mind. Whether his native city is still populated or not, without the elder brain it will be a hollow place where he is the least powerful. Here in this new land, filled with easy brains and the promise of power, he can rule and grow his own personal talents unfettered.
Soon they arrive at a tavern. The sign outside names it as “The Jester and Hawk Meadhall”. At no time during their journey does Shaddar see any of the ruin or filth that he expects from a human city. He takes this as a further sign of someone having an iron-like grip of control on the humans who live here. Surely, left to their own devices, such simpletons would be choking on their own wastes!
There are only three other men inside the building, but they quickly leave after taking in the monstrous appearance of Shaddar and his minions. His tentacles make motions of amusement as they hurry off.
“Ho, there, Hawke! We need six pints!” Jorin calls out once they are seated. A man with white, sightless eyes nods and busies himself at the bar.
“Hawke is a good sort. Doesn’t say much and since he’s blind, he can always say that he’s not seen us for years.” Jorin confides to Shaddar in a low voice.
“Excellent. I can see that your contacts and talents will be very valuable to our endeavor. Exactly the kinds of… associates we need.” Shaddar almost used the word partners, but that would be elevating these idiots far above their proper station. Still, the praise hits the mark and both men look quite happy.
Shaddar introduces his thralls to the men, “This is Cutt, Toothsnatcher and Loolipo. You have already introduced yourselves as Jorin and Bort, of course.”
“And your name is?” Bort asks with a raised eyebrow.
“You may call me ‘The Boss’,” Shaddar replies smoothly, “It would not do for my real name to get out. A hidden leader will cause our competition to respect all of us the more.” Before they can question this he continues in a brisk tone, “ The first order of business is that of uniforms. I have admired your fine outfits – where did you get them?”
Bort fingers the outlandish paper mustache now on the table, “We made them ourselves.”
“Yeah, you can tell from their quality,” puts in Jorin.
“I can tell from their quality,” agrees Shadder amiably. “You must make or obtain outfits for my entourage that match your own. To be a new guild, we must all look alike – well, all of you must. As the leader of our band, I will retain a unique appearance, suitable for diplomacy. But they must look as you do – clothing, boots, and all of the accessories as well.”
The gnome is disgusted, glaring at the shoddy workmanship of the cheap-looking outfits. “I don’t want to look like them,” he complains in a weedy voice. The kuo-toa frowns and lets out an indignant squawk.
“Hairy lip not good for me,” Toothsnatcher grumbles. The minotaur is clearly annoyed at the idea of having to wear a curly mustache under his fine bovine snout.
Shaddar slaps one palm to the table with a crack. “Silence!”
His thralls stop their complaints at once, each of them nods once and they say nothing more.
Jorin and Bort look from the thralls to Shaddar with amazement that slowly dawns into high respect. From their thoughts, the muggers take the immediate obedience on the part of the thralls as a sign of how they should behave. This is not an unintended consequence of the conversation and Shaddar is pleased that the lesson has been taught as he wished.
“This organization will mask my activities in Big City,” Shaddar thinks. “Excellent.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 5 Chapter 7 >
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Crossover - Chapter 5
Shaddar throws open the sewer grate and lets it hit the ground with a bang. It is obvious to his mental senses that there are no other thinking beings in the near vicinity and besides – he is feeling extremely confident.
The minotaur sticks his head up to test the scents in the air and snorts heavily. The beast is the least nervous of the three thralls, but the strange smells have him angrier than usual. All of them are showing signs of nervousness.
“I’ve never been in the sun!” whines the gray gnome, Cutt. “I don’t want to go!” The kuo-toa seconds the gnome’s statement with wet, unhappy gurgles. The bug-eyed, amphibian biped in particular is not happy about coming up into the bright sunlight that she has never actually experienced before.
“Come, come,” he broadcasts to his thralls who wait below, “At once.” With his firm mental command, the thralls move. Shaddar turns from them with his hands on his hips to inspect his new surroundings.
Shaddar has never actually been in any city other than his home, deep underground, so he is not sure if what he sees is normal or not, but he doubts it. He has, of course, read and studied a great deal and knows that all other races wallow in their own filth. Those who are not of the race are surrounded by trash and vermin by their own preferences.
This alleyway is not like that.
It is clean, with no trace of dirt or litter. There are no mars or damaged sections on the walls, either. If it was not daylight it would be quite dark, with no place for torches or lamps, but it is by no means what he expected.
Snorting in disregard, Shaddar motions for his thralls to secure the area. Quickly the doors at the corners of the alley intersection are found to be locked. They are alone.
Faint sounds of voices drift from one direction and Shaddar can sense mental activity as well. Imperiously he leads the way, his tentacles slowly writhing in the excitement of this new adventure. The alley opens onto a small street.
The sight that greets his eyes is unexpected.
Two men stand on the corner. Both are wearing frilly, open-throated shirts with voluminous fabric puffs on their shoulders and sleeves. Leather boots reach high onto their legs followed by brightly colored hose. Both men wear an eye-patch, but it is plain that neither of them have a need – their eyes are fine. Most ridiculous of all, however, are the huge paper mustaches that each man has strung under their noses with thread.
The shorter of the two costumed men stands five feet in front of the other with a sign-board hanging over his chest that reads, “Mugging Service” in bold red letters. Beneath this in smaller letters, the sign continues, “Entertain your friends and show your bravery!”
“What is this?” Shaddar thinks with disbelief.
“Right. You’re next folks.” The man with the sign waves forward a group of five people from a line that goes around the corner and out of Shaddar’s sight.
The group that walks forward consists of an older, gray-haired couple and what can only be their almost grown children. They are dressed in very fine clothes and it is clear from skimming their thoughts that the patriarch is not thrilled with the entertainment his family is participating in.
The second mustachioed man lunges at the group brandishing what looks like a pewter butterknife.
“This is a mugging!” he yells to the excited titters of the dowager and her daughters, “Your money or your life!”
“This is an outrage, sir!” sputters the gentleman, “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Not only do I not know who you are,” The mugger curls his lip dramatically as he replies with a theatrical pause, “I don’t care.” The man’s wife looks like she is about to swoon. The gentleman’s face turns blotchy red and his teenage children gasp in shock.
“Now hand over your coin!” The mugger flashes the dull blade in the air in a parody of menace.
Stoically, the red-faced gentleman hands over a bulging purse. Shaddar shakes his head in amazement as the mugger digs through the purse contents, withdraws a single coin and tosses the rest back!
“Now begone! Next time, you’ll not be so lucky!” With a indignant sound, the fine gentleman hurries away, angrily chastising his family for the experience. The man’s daughters begin to laugh and the man’s wife tut-tuts him as they go.
“Next!” the shorter mugger hollers and pushes forward a young couple who, from their thoughts, are not yet wed. Shaddar watches as the young man pushes the girl behind him in a show of chivalry.
As before, the mugger with the butterknife lunges towards them.
“Your money or your life! This is a mugging!”
“I’m not afraid of you,” the young man says while tilting his head back, “I don’t believe you are a villain at all. Just playacting as one.” The girl’s mocking eyes agree as they peek over her beau’s shoulder.
The mugger’s ears turn red. “Not a villain, you say? Watch yourself, boy, or I’ll… I’ll hurt ya.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And what would you say if I took advantage of your lady-friend, eh?”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, no?” And the mugger shoves the young man from his date and steals a quick kiss. The woman faints with a terrified squeak and her fellow barely manages to catch her.
“You horrible person! You villain!” The young man is stricken as he tries to revive his sweetheart from her ordeal.
Cackling with real satisfaction, the mugger snatches the young man’s purse and withdraws two coins. Holding them where the young man can see he snarls, “That lip of yours just cost you double, lad! Now get lost!”
Shaddar watches the young couple scamper off with amusement clearly flowing across his tentacles motions. How droll. With a toss of his head to his thralls, he walks around the corner and gets in line. Many of the others in line take one look at him and quickly leave, but others are far too busy watching the show that the ‘muggers’ are putting on to even notice him.
Slowly drumming his fingers on his crossed arms, Shaddar and his entourage wait.
And then it is their turn. The short man is frozen with uncertainty as he sees who is next in line, but Shaddar brushes past him. The man with the dull blade jumps out of the shadows.
“This is a mugging! Your money or yer…” the mugger’s voice trails off into an inarticulate noise, staring with disgust and shock at the slowly-udalating, tentacled face before him. Shaddar puts his hands on his hips.
“How about your money or your life?” he asks with menace.
“Err… What?”
Shaddar makes a gesture in the direction of the mugger’s pouch. “All of those little coins you’ve been collecting?” He holds out his clawed hand, “Right here. Right now.”
“Now look, I’m working this corner. We don’t want any trouble, sir.”
“And yet you have some… Unfortunate.”
The mugger licks his lips and glances around, but all the other customers and people are gone. In a almost whisper he asks, “Are you Guild?”
“Well, no. We are new here,” Shaddar answers with less ice in his tone.
The mugger grins hugely at this reply and speaks loudly, “Oh, ho! Not Guild are we?”
Shaddar is thinking quickly. This simpleton may be just what he needs. He begins using tones of reconciliation. “No. We wish to be villains in your fine city, as you are. Pray – tell us how this works.”
The man stands up straighter and foolish pride lights his features and his thoughts. “Ah! Heard of Jorin and Bort have you? Came to learn from the best have we?” He laughs and looks over at his partner, “How about that, eh, Bort?” Bort manages a flicker of a half-smile before returning his fearful stare at Shaddar and his monsters.
Jorin smirks at them, “First of all, your costumes are… a little vulgar.”
“We’re more for shock value.”
“I can see that,” mutters Bort.
Jorin ignores his friend’s comment. “Well, a very minor portion of the populace will appreciate your… er…”
Shaddar’s eyes narrow, “Yes?”
“Aura,” Jorin finishes lamely. He shudders and continues, “It is impressive, but it’s just not going to pay. And the more flamboyant you are, the more likely it is you’ll attract the attention of the Guild.”
“Tell me about the Guild.”
“Well, you know… The Guild! The Guild of Villains? Everyone has heard of them!”
Shaddar finds it difficult not the laugh at this, but manages. He asks in a serious tone, matching that of the human, “And are you part of the Guild?”
“Nah!” Jorin waves the question down with a sneer, “They’d always be wanting a cut of everything and telling us what to do. No, me and Bort are free spirits!”
Shaddar nods in complete understanding, “And this is why we are not going to be part of the Guild. We are starting our own Guild.”
“Ah…”
“You think they will stop us, perhaps? How? Will they ask us for our money or our lives?” Shaddar tips his head back and laughs at the thought. The minotaur somehow also gets the joke and begins a snorting, bellowing laugh in chorus with the mind flayer’s that sounds unholy and brutal.
Jorin and Bort both look like they have been pinched at this and begin to gather their things and cast fearful glances around the side-street. Jorin is talking quickly as they move slowly away, “Well! That’s very interesting. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time with that. Very exciting and all… Oh! Look at that – it’s three bells already? Must be off, lads!”
Bort nods vigorously, “Yeah, you can’t stay in one place for too long or the constabulary will catch you!”
“Right you are, Bort! That’s a good tip – and a free one for you lot on your road to villainy,” Jorin says over one shoulder as he and his partner quickly move down the street, “Never want to tangle with the constables. They’re nothing but trouble!”
As he speaks, a group of six men in dark blue uniforms round the corner at a run. The one at the head of the group points a think club at the two muggers who have frozen in the middle of the street.
“Jorin and Bort! I might have known! When will you two learn that we don’t tolerate unlicensed villainy in Big City? Get ‘em men!” At this, the five men in uniform tackle the two muggers and wrestle them to the ground amidst cursing and hollers.
Shaddar shakes his head in disbelief. How pathetic these humans are! And the slavish nobility to “the law” that he sees in the minds of the constables and especially the sergeant of this group is doubly so. Their laws are meaningless – as are their lives. Only the goals of the illithid race can have any meaning in the universe. Their silly notions of right and wrong are folly. With a step forward, he resolves to instruct them…
“Muggings! Muggings here! Step right up! Your money or your life! Just get in line please – no pushing is required!” Shaddar shouts loudly. The constables and the two humans on the ground all look over at him in confusion. The sergeant straightens his coat and walks over boldly.
He jerks a fat thumb over his shoulder at the two men pinned on the ground, “I know these two jokers, but I’ve never seen you fellows before.” He looks around the street in insure that no one will overhear, then asks, “Are you proper villains, sir? Or do you just look like ones?”
Shaddar’s anger grows at the impertinent thoughts running through this human’s mind. The lesson that he was going to teach has been changed – it will now be a permanently lasting one.
With slime beginning to drip from his tentacles Shaddar hisses, “Your money or your life…”
“I don’t understan-“
Shaddar walks quickly towards the man, closing the distance as he rapidly and angrily speaks, “It is quite simple. A transaction is required. Your laws do not matter. Nor does your false authority. It is thus: you give me the money that you value so much or the remainder of your lifespan. It is a simple enough concept.”
“Ah…” Shaddar’s furious tone seems to deflate the sergeant and he takes a step backwards.
“And since you have made no motion to give me your money, I can only conclude that you wish to pay me in only the other form of currency that you possess.”
“Huh?” At this point Shaddar looms over the sergeant, his tentacles twitching with emotion and excitement.
“I can sense that it is no vast currency, so you will not be bothered at its loss.”
With relish, Shaddar releases a powerful blast from his mind, instantly stunning every one of the humans before him with the exception of the constable farthest away from him. The sergeant sinks to his knees and Shaddar’s tentacles wrap around the man’s head.
A hideous slurping sound echoes down the street and then the sergeant hits the cobblestones like his strings have been cut.
Blood dripping from his tentacles, Shaddar muses, “Or not.”
He quickly walks to the pile of constables and rips another man’s head open, keeping his eyes firmly upon the one man who still has his wits about him. The constable's face is totally white and he begins to gibber at the horrific sight before him.
“Am I a proper villain now?” Shaddar says in a harsh and phlegmy whisper.
Another man dies with casual indifference. “How about now?”
The unstunned constable flees the scene, screaming as if he has lost his mind.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 4 Chapter 6 >
The minotaur sticks his head up to test the scents in the air and snorts heavily. The beast is the least nervous of the three thralls, but the strange smells have him angrier than usual. All of them are showing signs of nervousness.
“I’ve never been in the sun!” whines the gray gnome, Cutt. “I don’t want to go!” The kuo-toa seconds the gnome’s statement with wet, unhappy gurgles. The bug-eyed, amphibian biped in particular is not happy about coming up into the bright sunlight that she has never actually experienced before.
“Come, come,” he broadcasts to his thralls who wait below, “At once.” With his firm mental command, the thralls move. Shaddar turns from them with his hands on his hips to inspect his new surroundings.
Shaddar has never actually been in any city other than his home, deep underground, so he is not sure if what he sees is normal or not, but he doubts it. He has, of course, read and studied a great deal and knows that all other races wallow in their own filth. Those who are not of the race are surrounded by trash and vermin by their own preferences.
This alleyway is not like that.
It is clean, with no trace of dirt or litter. There are no mars or damaged sections on the walls, either. If it was not daylight it would be quite dark, with no place for torches or lamps, but it is by no means what he expected.
Snorting in disregard, Shaddar motions for his thralls to secure the area. Quickly the doors at the corners of the alley intersection are found to be locked. They are alone.
Faint sounds of voices drift from one direction and Shaddar can sense mental activity as well. Imperiously he leads the way, his tentacles slowly writhing in the excitement of this new adventure. The alley opens onto a small street.
The sight that greets his eyes is unexpected.
Two men stand on the corner. Both are wearing frilly, open-throated shirts with voluminous fabric puffs on their shoulders and sleeves. Leather boots reach high onto their legs followed by brightly colored hose. Both men wear an eye-patch, but it is plain that neither of them have a need – their eyes are fine. Most ridiculous of all, however, are the huge paper mustaches that each man has strung under their noses with thread.
The shorter of the two costumed men stands five feet in front of the other with a sign-board hanging over his chest that reads, “Mugging Service” in bold red letters. Beneath this in smaller letters, the sign continues, “Entertain your friends and show your bravery!”
“What is this?” Shaddar thinks with disbelief.
“Right. You’re next folks.” The man with the sign waves forward a group of five people from a line that goes around the corner and out of Shaddar’s sight.
The group that walks forward consists of an older, gray-haired couple and what can only be their almost grown children. They are dressed in very fine clothes and it is clear from skimming their thoughts that the patriarch is not thrilled with the entertainment his family is participating in.
The second mustachioed man lunges at the group brandishing what looks like a pewter butterknife.
“This is a mugging!” he yells to the excited titters of the dowager and her daughters, “Your money or your life!”
“This is an outrage, sir!” sputters the gentleman, “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Not only do I not know who you are,” The mugger curls his lip dramatically as he replies with a theatrical pause, “I don’t care.” The man’s wife looks like she is about to swoon. The gentleman’s face turns blotchy red and his teenage children gasp in shock.
“Now hand over your coin!” The mugger flashes the dull blade in the air in a parody of menace.
Stoically, the red-faced gentleman hands over a bulging purse. Shaddar shakes his head in amazement as the mugger digs through the purse contents, withdraws a single coin and tosses the rest back!
“Now begone! Next time, you’ll not be so lucky!” With a indignant sound, the fine gentleman hurries away, angrily chastising his family for the experience. The man’s daughters begin to laugh and the man’s wife tut-tuts him as they go.
“Next!” the shorter mugger hollers and pushes forward a young couple who, from their thoughts, are not yet wed. Shaddar watches as the young man pushes the girl behind him in a show of chivalry.
As before, the mugger with the butterknife lunges towards them.
“Your money or your life! This is a mugging!”
“I’m not afraid of you,” the young man says while tilting his head back, “I don’t believe you are a villain at all. Just playacting as one.” The girl’s mocking eyes agree as they peek over her beau’s shoulder.
The mugger’s ears turn red. “Not a villain, you say? Watch yourself, boy, or I’ll… I’ll hurt ya.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And what would you say if I took advantage of your lady-friend, eh?”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, no?” And the mugger shoves the young man from his date and steals a quick kiss. The woman faints with a terrified squeak and her fellow barely manages to catch her.
“You horrible person! You villain!” The young man is stricken as he tries to revive his sweetheart from her ordeal.
Cackling with real satisfaction, the mugger snatches the young man’s purse and withdraws two coins. Holding them where the young man can see he snarls, “That lip of yours just cost you double, lad! Now get lost!”
Shaddar watches the young couple scamper off with amusement clearly flowing across his tentacles motions. How droll. With a toss of his head to his thralls, he walks around the corner and gets in line. Many of the others in line take one look at him and quickly leave, but others are far too busy watching the show that the ‘muggers’ are putting on to even notice him.
Slowly drumming his fingers on his crossed arms, Shaddar and his entourage wait.
And then it is their turn. The short man is frozen with uncertainty as he sees who is next in line, but Shaddar brushes past him. The man with the dull blade jumps out of the shadows.
“This is a mugging! Your money or yer…” the mugger’s voice trails off into an inarticulate noise, staring with disgust and shock at the slowly-udalating, tentacled face before him. Shaddar puts his hands on his hips.
“How about your money or your life?” he asks with menace.
“Err… What?”
Shaddar makes a gesture in the direction of the mugger’s pouch. “All of those little coins you’ve been collecting?” He holds out his clawed hand, “Right here. Right now.”
“Now look, I’m working this corner. We don’t want any trouble, sir.”
“And yet you have some… Unfortunate.”
The mugger licks his lips and glances around, but all the other customers and people are gone. In a almost whisper he asks, “Are you Guild?”
“Well, no. We are new here,” Shaddar answers with less ice in his tone.
The mugger grins hugely at this reply and speaks loudly, “Oh, ho! Not Guild are we?”
Shaddar is thinking quickly. This simpleton may be just what he needs. He begins using tones of reconciliation. “No. We wish to be villains in your fine city, as you are. Pray – tell us how this works.”
The man stands up straighter and foolish pride lights his features and his thoughts. “Ah! Heard of Jorin and Bort have you? Came to learn from the best have we?” He laughs and looks over at his partner, “How about that, eh, Bort?” Bort manages a flicker of a half-smile before returning his fearful stare at Shaddar and his monsters.
Jorin smirks at them, “First of all, your costumes are… a little vulgar.”
“We’re more for shock value.”
“I can see that,” mutters Bort.
Jorin ignores his friend’s comment. “Well, a very minor portion of the populace will appreciate your… er…”
Shaddar’s eyes narrow, “Yes?”
“Aura,” Jorin finishes lamely. He shudders and continues, “It is impressive, but it’s just not going to pay. And the more flamboyant you are, the more likely it is you’ll attract the attention of the Guild.”
“Tell me about the Guild.”
“Well, you know… The Guild! The Guild of Villains? Everyone has heard of them!”
Shaddar finds it difficult not the laugh at this, but manages. He asks in a serious tone, matching that of the human, “And are you part of the Guild?”
“Nah!” Jorin waves the question down with a sneer, “They’d always be wanting a cut of everything and telling us what to do. No, me and Bort are free spirits!”
Shaddar nods in complete understanding, “And this is why we are not going to be part of the Guild. We are starting our own Guild.”
“Ah…”
“You think they will stop us, perhaps? How? Will they ask us for our money or our lives?” Shaddar tips his head back and laughs at the thought. The minotaur somehow also gets the joke and begins a snorting, bellowing laugh in chorus with the mind flayer’s that sounds unholy and brutal.
Jorin and Bort both look like they have been pinched at this and begin to gather their things and cast fearful glances around the side-street. Jorin is talking quickly as they move slowly away, “Well! That’s very interesting. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time with that. Very exciting and all… Oh! Look at that – it’s three bells already? Must be off, lads!”
Bort nods vigorously, “Yeah, you can’t stay in one place for too long or the constabulary will catch you!”
“Right you are, Bort! That’s a good tip – and a free one for you lot on your road to villainy,” Jorin says over one shoulder as he and his partner quickly move down the street, “Never want to tangle with the constables. They’re nothing but trouble!”
As he speaks, a group of six men in dark blue uniforms round the corner at a run. The one at the head of the group points a think club at the two muggers who have frozen in the middle of the street.
“Jorin and Bort! I might have known! When will you two learn that we don’t tolerate unlicensed villainy in Big City? Get ‘em men!” At this, the five men in uniform tackle the two muggers and wrestle them to the ground amidst cursing and hollers.
Shaddar shakes his head in disbelief. How pathetic these humans are! And the slavish nobility to “the law” that he sees in the minds of the constables and especially the sergeant of this group is doubly so. Their laws are meaningless – as are their lives. Only the goals of the illithid race can have any meaning in the universe. Their silly notions of right and wrong are folly. With a step forward, he resolves to instruct them…
“Muggings! Muggings here! Step right up! Your money or your life! Just get in line please – no pushing is required!” Shaddar shouts loudly. The constables and the two humans on the ground all look over at him in confusion. The sergeant straightens his coat and walks over boldly.
He jerks a fat thumb over his shoulder at the two men pinned on the ground, “I know these two jokers, but I’ve never seen you fellows before.” He looks around the street in insure that no one will overhear, then asks, “Are you proper villains, sir? Or do you just look like ones?”
Shaddar’s anger grows at the impertinent thoughts running through this human’s mind. The lesson that he was going to teach has been changed – it will now be a permanently lasting one.
With slime beginning to drip from his tentacles Shaddar hisses, “Your money or your life…”
“I don’t understan-“
Shaddar walks quickly towards the man, closing the distance as he rapidly and angrily speaks, “It is quite simple. A transaction is required. Your laws do not matter. Nor does your false authority. It is thus: you give me the money that you value so much or the remainder of your lifespan. It is a simple enough concept.”
“Ah…” Shaddar’s furious tone seems to deflate the sergeant and he takes a step backwards.
“And since you have made no motion to give me your money, I can only conclude that you wish to pay me in only the other form of currency that you possess.”
“Huh?” At this point Shaddar looms over the sergeant, his tentacles twitching with emotion and excitement.
“I can sense that it is no vast currency, so you will not be bothered at its loss.”
With relish, Shaddar releases a powerful blast from his mind, instantly stunning every one of the humans before him with the exception of the constable farthest away from him. The sergeant sinks to his knees and Shaddar’s tentacles wrap around the man’s head.
A hideous slurping sound echoes down the street and then the sergeant hits the cobblestones like his strings have been cut.
Blood dripping from his tentacles, Shaddar muses, “Or not.”
He quickly walks to the pile of constables and rips another man’s head open, keeping his eyes firmly upon the one man who still has his wits about him. The constable's face is totally white and he begins to gibber at the horrific sight before him.
“Am I a proper villain now?” Shaddar says in a harsh and phlegmy whisper.
Another man dies with casual indifference. “How about now?”
The unstunned constable flees the scene, screaming as if he has lost his mind.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 4 Chapter 6 >
Saturday, September 15, 2012
AAR: September 3, 2012 - Recon FOB Zeta
Izak's HeadSplitterz:
HQ - Warboss
Elites - 15x Kommandoz with Boss Blackgutz (2x Rokkit)
Troops - 19x Boyz (Nob with power claw, Rokkit)
Troops - 19x Shoota Boyz (Nob, Rokkit)
Heavy Support - 3 Lobba gunz (6x Extra crew, Runtherd, 3x Ammo runts)
Heavy Support - Battlewagon ('ard case, Deff rolla, Armor plates, 2x Big shoota)
Heavy Support - Deff Dread (2x Extra power claws)
"We gonna' chop youse ta bitz!"
Joe Recon
HQ - Captain
Elites - Dreadnought (Power fist, Multi-melta)
Elites - 5x Terminators (Power fists)
Troops - 10x Tactical Marines (Flamer, Missile launcher) with Sgt. (Metla bombs)
Troops - 10x Tactical Marines (Melta, Heavy bolter) with Sgt. (Plasma pistol, Power fist)
Fast Attack - 5x Marine Biker with Sgt. (Plasma pistol)
"Xenos must be purged."
The large tactical squad 2, the terminators, and the captain hold the middle.
Tactical squad 4 and the biker squad protect the entrance itself. Some of those bikers look a little funny... Hmm...
The first mob of boyz is at the far west end of the table, formed up as neatly as the exasperated nob can get them.
The middle group of boyz is lead by the warboss Izak. They surround the battlewagon and have taken cover in the trees to hopefully withstand the initial Space Marine onslaught.
The final collection of Orks is the lobba crew who crouch behind the rocks on the eastern end of the battlefield. The deffdread guard the artillery and it's motor growls menacingly.
"Forward, battle-brothers! Cut the greenskin filth down, like the plague that they are!"
- Tactical squad 1 and the dreadnought shoot at mob1. Several trees blow up as the heavy bolter fire hits them instead of the ork hiding behind them, but the multi-melta on the dreadnought vaporizes the lad that the beam hits.
- The bikers, terminators, and tactical squad 3 shoot at mob2. The terminators are just out of range and the other fire kills 2 orks.
Mob1 moves forward, shooting as they go.
The deffdread moves forward with a engine noise that sounds like a wounded lion.
- The gretchin fire their lobbaz at tactical squad 4. A single space marine falls out as his leg is blown off.
- Inside the battlewagon, the crowded conditions only allow a single boy to shoot, but his dodgy-looking rocket miraculously strikes a space marine and punches right through his armor.
- Mob1 shoots their crude pistols at the dreadnought, but none of their pitiful firepower damages it in the least.
- The deffdread slams into the biker squad and chops one of the motorcycles to bits as if it was an industrial cross-cut shredder. (Which it pretty much is...) As the other members of the squad wheel their bikes around, the metal horror lunges forward and rips all of the rear tires to pieces! All of the bikes are out of the battle!
Tactical squads 2 and 4 move forward to gain good fields of fire.
The terminator squad lead by the captain moves at a run toward the deffdread to distract the giant walker from the biker riders who are seeking cover from the whirling blades.
- Tactical squad 4 shoots their meltagun at the side of the battlewagon, but are disappointed as the beam misses its target.
- All other space marines take aim at the rushing and howling group of orks in mob1. The missiles, heavy bolter fire, and the beam of the multi-melta slaughter 5 ladz. This enrages the orks and they just keep running.
Mob1 turns towards the closer and "softa-lookin'" men in tactical squad 4.
The deffdread charges into the midst of tactical squad 3, huge power claws snapping greedily.
The battlewagon slams it's deff rolla into and over the captain's squad of terminators. The veterans leap out of the path of the onrushing tank with a sneer of contempt. Once it comes to a stop, Warboss Izak leads his unruly mob outside.
- Mob2 blasts away at tactical squad 4, but the space marines power armor deflects every unholy slug of miscast metal.
- The lobba gunz target tactical squad 3, but fail to even come close to their intended target. The runtherd plys his whip in anger and the grot shriek that they will do better next time.
- The kommandoz open fire on the dreadnought and manage to jam something. The dreadnought will be immobile next turn.
- The deffdread butchers all of the marines in tactical squad 4, making a hideous noise as blades rend through plates of armor and scatter bits of the men underneath all around.
- Tactical squad 1 opens up the heavy bolter into the kommando ranks and 5 of them detonate as they are hit with the explosive bolter rounds.
- Tactical squad 3 shoots at mob2 and kills 4 of them.
- The terminator squad tries to get close enough to the cruising battlewagon to destroy it, but all they manage to do is shake the crew so badly that they will not be able to fire any weapons next turn.
- Tactical squad 2 unleashes a gout of white-hot flame into the ork ranks while peppering the group with bolter fire. A total of seven orks are burned alive - screaming in frustration that they couldn't attack their foe. Then the brave marines slam into those that survived. Each side kills one of the other. The attack was so harsh that the ladz in mob1 think about running away. The nob notices their indecision and cuts the head of one of the potential deserters to help the rest understand why they should stay facing the enemy!
The deffdread turns its attentions to the terminator squad that is trying to blow up the battlewagon.
The battlewagon driver is quite alarmed by the terminators banging on the side armor. He hits the accellerator and plows into and over the space marines. One terminators is crushed to death and even the captain is injured.
The orks bellow their warcry of "WAAAGH!" and sprint towards the enemy that they can see in front of them.
- The lobbaz fire at tactical squad 3 and their shoots are all over the battlefield - none of the shells come close to drawing blood. The runtherd is literally hopping mad - luckily gretchin are fairly tough and suffer nothing more than extreme bruising as their vile master jumps on them.
- The kommandoz shoot at the immobilized dreadnought and manage to blow it's multi-melta off. Then they surround it and begin to hack and tear at it with their crude weapons. Since the war walker can't dodge a lucky blow disconnects the powertrain and it slumps to one side - out of the battle.
- Mob1 continues to duke it out with tactical squad 2. The nob uses his power claw to snip off limbs and heads from the marines which roasted so many of his boys - all of the marines are out of the fight or dead. The orkz lose another boy and the nob gets too close to a chainsword during the conflict.
- The deffdread strides into close quarters combat with the captain and his terminator squad. The terminators confuse the ork pilot so badly with their formations that he will lose an attack until his next turn.
- Warboss Izak and mob1 charge into tactical squad 3 adn slaughter 4 of the marines. Only the marine with the missile launcher survives - he retreats to a safe distance and then turns to aim his weapon at the ork kommandoz who are hooting excitedly around the frozen dreadnought.
Attacks this turn are:
- The lone marine in tactical squad 3 fires his missile into the kommandoz. 4 of them are blown apart by the explosion in the middle of their ranks.
- Tactical squad 1 shoots their boltguns and the heavy bolter at mob2 to try and winnow the disgusting group down. Three of the boyz are ripped in half by the concentrated fire and even the nob takes a serious wound.
- The terminator squad and captain valiantly fight against the mechanical horror that looms over them. One of the terminators gets too close to a power claw and is crushed, but their combined efforts cause the deffdread pilot to begin spinning in circles, in an attempt to keep them in sight. It will have but a single attack until it's next turn!
Mob 2 stomps towards the sole survivor of tactical squad 3 with blood in their eyes.
The battlewagon driver is breathing a huge sigh of relief to be pulling away from the scary-looking power fists sported by the terminators.
- The battlewagon fires it's two big shootas at the last marine of tactical squad 3, but the slugs do not penetrate.
- Then mob2 opens fire. A hail of barely aimed steel and explosives cover the marine in sparks and impact. He survives all of them except for the rokkit with hits his own ammo pack of missile. The ammunition cook-off is spectacular as the marine lights up like a fireworks display.
- The deffdread only manages to wave its arms around in a pseudo-threatening manner. The terminators try to close with the clanking nightmare, but fail to get past it's formidable armor.
Their weapons speak eloquently:
- Tactical squad 1 rapid fires at the kommandoz, but only manage to permanently disable 2 of them.
- The on-going grudge-match between the deffdread and the terminators continues. The captain takes another wound, but the deffdread is still up and roaring curses over his scratchy-sounding loudspeakers.
Their bloodlust is an almost tangible thing - filling the air with hate and the joy of battle.
- All of the other orks blast the surrounded tactical squad 1. Amazingly, only three of the super-human space marines are disabled by the prodigious amount of firepower leveled at their squad, but then the orks move in for the kill and they are all put down in a howling melee of foaming orkz.
- The deffdread pilot bellows in outrage as the "runty 'umies" continue to evade and confuse him.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Mek Lab - Custom Painboy
"De orderz 're pilin' up faster dan a grot runz from a hungry nob. Since dis lab needz Mek Gearsnik ta heal up faster, we gonna construkt a Painboy. Dis completed Doc will staple Gearsnik's hide back onta hiz bones much betta dan me 'nd our grot crew 'ere have done. I hope so anyway... 'cause hiz sreamin' 'nd beggin fer deff iz gettin' on me nerves."
Custom Painboy
Friday, September 7, 2012
Mek Lab - Rocky Hills
One of Warboss Chainsawz fine ork technicians has agreed to share with us his secrets to building great-looking rocky hills. As a part of this process, the scraps will be turned into fine, standalone rocky bitz as well.
Without further ado, please welcome Mek Gearsnik!
"Right. First off, don't blame me if yer kreationz don't look like mine. It wouldna be proppa if dey did, anyhow. Next you'll need yer own grot crew fer 'ard labour, test pilotin', crash-test-dummiez, 'nd de like. Lastwise, letz look at yer tools and gubbinz. Afta' all dat, mebbe you'll be ready ta build sumfin' in me lab. Mebbe you like ta try me New 'nd Improofed Bulletproof Vest later, eh? ... Why ya lookin' at me like dat?"
Follow these easy step-by-step instructions to learn how to build your own great terrain pieces! Sure to please any warrior who wants to hold the high ground!
Without further ado, please welcome Mek Gearsnik!"Right. First off, don't blame me if yer kreationz don't look like mine. It wouldna be proppa if dey did, anyhow. Next you'll need yer own grot crew fer 'ard labour, test pilotin', crash-test-dummiez, 'nd de like. Lastwise, letz look at yer tools and gubbinz. Afta' all dat, mebbe you'll be ready ta build sumfin' in me lab. Mebbe you like ta try me New 'nd Improofed Bulletproof Vest later, eh? ... Why ya lookin' at me like dat?"
Rocky Hills
Thursday, September 6, 2012
AAR: September 1, 2012 - Ork Incursion
Any flat surface that models can stand on are considered open terrain. The trees and fences are difficult terrain. It is agreed that any fence that is passed through by a vehicle will destroy that section of the fence.
Both sides of the table have a small weak bunker (8 models can fit inside - A12) and a larger, tougher bunker (20 models can fit inside - A13).
Chainsawz Ladz:
HQ - Warboss
HQ - Zzaphead (Ol' Boomy)
Elites - 15x Kommandoz with Boss Blackgutz (2x Burna)
Troops - 19x Shoota Boyz (Nob with power claw, Big shoota)
Troops - 23x Boyz (Nob, Big shoota)
Troops - 12x Gretchin (Runtherd)
Troops - 12x Gretchin (Runtherd)
Troops - 5x Nobz (Big choppa, 'eavy armor, Painboy)
Heavy Support - 3 Lobba gunz (1x Extra crew, Runtherd, 3x Ammo runts)
Heavy Support - Battlewagon ('ard case, Deff rolla, Armor plates, 2x Big shoota)
Heavy Support - Deff Dread (2x Extra power claws)
"Fresh meatz? Fur us? We luvs fresh meatz!"
The Fighting 357th
HQ - Colonel Yitz
HQ - Librarian
Elites - Dreadnought (Power fist, Multi-melta)
Elites - 10x Terminators (2x Cyclone missile launchers, 2x Chain-fists, Power fists)
Troops - 10x Tactical Marines (Flamer, Missile launcher)
Troops - 10x Tactical Marines (Melta, Heavy bolter)
Troops - 6x Sniper Scouts with Sgt. Immortus (Missile launcher)
Fast Attack - 1x Marine Biker
"Pride cometh before the fall... Our pride - your fall!"
They establish the gretchin in hiding places worthy of their cowardice, while the ladz mob up in the center and around the statue of the Emperor. The warboss orders that sticky spray paint be passed around "so de ladz can make dere mark on dis 'umie boss".
The battlewagon and the deffdread sandwich the nob mob. The nobz, seeing the vandalism happening at the Emperor's statue, content themselves with making rude gestures and mooning the foe.
"Soon you vill 'ave your revenge, brothers!" he promises in his heavy Russian accent.
Two squads of tactical marines are buttoned down in bunkers, the other two guard the settlement entrance. The terminators are also split into squads, one with the Colonel, and one with the librarian.
The dreadnought and biker are close to the fenceline, reving their powerful engines and double-checking weapon loadouts....
"That filthy 'umie wif da funny name! We rips hiz eyelidz off!"
The librarian accesses the power of the warp to teleport himself and terminator squad 1 into the middle of the battlefield.
- Tactical squad 2 shoots at the bare-bummed nobz. A nob is not quite quick enough at pulling his behind out of the line of fire and takes a wound.
- Tactical squad 1 fires a missile from the bunker at the battlewagon, but cobwebs covering the firing slit cause the marine to badly misjudge the range. He misses completely..
- The terminators fire a hail of missiles at the deffdread and the engine takes a direct hit! With a squeal of grinding gears, it falls flat on it's face. The space marines of the 357th let out a roar of approval at the sight! The warboss makes a mental note to viciously torture the Mek that built the engine housing later...
The mob led by the warboss charge towards the terminators, intent on ending the cascade of missiles.
Ol' Boomy, his eyes blazing with purple light, jumps into the battlewagon with his group of deranged madboyz. He attempts to use the power of the warp, but bellows in rage as the librarian denies him access via his physic hood. The madboy nob licks the doorway to verify that the tank tastes right. "Itz a good 'un!" Once they are all aboard, the battlewagon surges forward, splintering trees as it goes.
The nobz also move forward, using the mass of the tank as cover from the terminator squad 1.
- From within the tank, the insane shoota boyz attack tactical squad 2 with no lasting results.
- The lobba gunz open fire at tactical squad 2. They kill 2 of the marines and pin the rest as they dive for cover from the screaming shells.
- The nob squad shoots at the biker, but the bike's armor has been toughened up since it last saw use and the heavy slugs fail to penetrate.
Colonel Yitz and his terminators also move forward. "Kill dem all, brothers!"
- Tactical squad 3 shoots at the nobz, but they shrug off the minor wounds.
- Tactical squad 1, the dreadnought, and the biker all fire into the mob of boyz led by Chainsaw to absolutely no effect on the enraged and charging ladz.
- When the terminators open fire on the mob of orks before them it is a different matter. They really can't miss at such point-blank range and they don't. A whopping 12 boyz are mowed down, with the warboss taking a wound as well.
- Seeing the alien charge begin to falter as their numbers are badly depleted, the terminators wade into close quarters combat with them. 6 more orcs are killed and the warboss is put out of action with both his legs broken. Sadly this carnage comes at a cost - 4 terminators are downed in the melee and the librarian is hurt.
Ol' Boomy can feel the power of the battle feeding his link into the warp. As he begins to release the energy that he is addicted to, the librarian attempts to impose the Emperor's will and block the alien psyker. Unfortunately for the human, the power of the bloodlust around Ol' Boomy produces a feedback of power through the warp that causes the librarian's eyes to literally explode! Without even a moment's pause, Ol' Boomy hollers "'Ere we go, ladz!" and teleports every member of his excited band directly into the heart of the space marine lines!
- The shoota boyz find themselves in a target rich environment! They open up into the backs of terminator squad 1. The terminator armor shrugs off almost all of the attack, however as only a single space marine falls.
- The lobbaz adjust their gunz and open fire on tactical squad 2. Two of the tactical marines die.
- The nobz squad opens fire with their twin-linked shootas and nail 2 of the men in tactical squad 3.
- The ongoing assault in the middle of the battlefield continued as the screaming and blinded librarian is quickly dispatched. A single boy dies.
The biker bravely drives his ride along the side of the now empty battlewagon, keying it as he goes by.
Tactical squads 2 and 3 move in to annihilate the shoota boyz who have suddenly appeared in their midst.
The snipers squad, led by Sgt. Immortus arrives! They wisely appear on the high ground overlooking the gretchin big gunz and set up their rifles...
- The assault with the orks in the middle of the battlefield is finally concluded. The last human is swarmed and is finished. Two boyz go down with him - one in each hand of the fallen space marine terminator.
- The terminator squad 2 and tactical squads 2, 3, and 4 all unload their weapons into the tightly packed mob of madboyz led by Ol' Boomy. It's murder in there! 9 boyz die and the nob takes a wound, to boot.
- The biker and tactical squad 1 attack the nob squad. The wounded nob falters, then falls out of rank.
- The dreadnought attacks the battlewagon's front armor, counting on the close range to cut through the strongest part of the alien tank. His calculation proves quite correct as the tank explodes into thousands of pieces.
- The lone marine left in tactical squad 2 attacks the shoota boyz and is killed for his valor.
- Then Colonel Yitz and his terminator squad 2 attack them. Nine boyz are butchered, power fists disintegrating whatever unprotected orkish flesh they come into contact with. The madboy nob is ripped apart as well, leaving only Ol' Boomy left alive. He takes off like a hungry squig for the group of nobz he can see through the rubble.
The very small force of boyz in the middle of the battle field moves to assault the dreadnought that just smoked their battlewagon.
- The lobbaz swing their gunz quickly to the snipers who are already drawing down on them. Their hasty fire is very accurate, killing 4 of the 6 snipers. Unfortunately Sgt. Immortus is still alive...
- The mob of ladz attack the dreadnought, but neither side does any significant damage to the other.
The terminator squad led by Colonel Yitz moves in order to get line-of-sight on the nobz.
The attacks by the Space Marines are as follows:
- Sergeant Immortus puts a high caliber round right between the eyes of the big gunz runtherd and pandemonium ensues! The gretchin think about running, but decide instead to go ahead and try to kill the last two snipers later.
- Tactical squads 1, 3, and the terminators all shoot at the nobz now led by Ol' Boomy. Their attacks are futile as the tough as stone orks either shrug off the damage or are quickly "seen to, propa-like" by the painboy.
- The biker assaults the mob of ladz, crashing his bike into the nob. The nob is wounded, but the bike is then cut in half with a roar of the power claw the nob wields.
- The dreadnought picks up a shrieking ork lad in his power claw and crushes him into a pulp.
The orkish assault continues:
- The lobba crew attempt to kill the snipers on the hill, but without the runtherd giving them direction, every grot thinks they know how to adjust the weapons. The result is that the snipers are completely safe.
- The nobz shoot at tactical squad 3 and manage to take down a marine.
- The only remaining ork fighting the dreadnought hoots gleefully as the nob manages to slice something vital. The dreadnought explodes in a shower of multi-colored sparks. He is completely unharmed by the pyrotechnics and instead revels in the glory of victory. The nob of this mob is wild with the passion of battle - "I iz unstop'ble!"
Feeling that they are missing out and might be needed, tactical squad 4 disembarks from their bunker so as to better support the Colonel.
The space marines concentrate their fire:
- The snipers shoot the big gunz emplacement once again, killing 4 of their crew. The grot have had enough of this and flee!
- Tactical squads 1, 3, 4, and the terminators all shoot at the nobz. this hail of fire does absolutely nothing and the greenskins mock their foes mercilessly.
The surviving orks are encouraged by the arrival of reinforcements and release a mighty "WAAAGH!" battlecry which empowers all of the ladz! The nobz see some humans in front of them that look weak and charge!
- The sole survivor of the main ork mob charges into the bunker that protects tactical squad 1 and rips it to shreds with his power claw. The marines are forced to exit the collapsing building!
- The nobz slam into the two marines left in tactical squad 3 and hack them both to bits.
- The kommandoz charge right by tactical squad 4 to slam into the terminators. One terminator dies and Colonel Yitz takes a wound, but they lose 4 kommandoz.
All other space marine forces are otherwise occupied.
- Tactical squad 1 shoots a missile at the nobz and manages to finally injure one of them.
- The snipers try to put down the howling nob that just cracked open the bunker. They hit him, but he shrugs off the wounds like they are mere insect bites!
- Then tactical squad 4 and the terminators led by Colonel Yitz sandwich the Kommandoz in a grim contest of blades versus chainswords. Eight of the orks are killed, while only a single space marine falls. This bravery causes the orks to break from combat and flee for their own corner!
Ol' Boomy gets so excited that he infuses the orks with another burst of WAAAGH! power. This feels great, but has no tactical value this turn.
"Who cares? WAAAGH!"
- The kommandoz attack tactical squad 1 with sluggasz and a couple of burnas. A space marine is burned alive.
- The nobz shoot at tactical squad 4, but their fire bounces off the power armor, ruining the paint job of several, but doing nothing more.
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