Shaddar gives his thralls a few more basic instructions before ordering them to carry out their orders.
“Return sometime around nightfall and report,” he broadcasts. The thralls stand and leave the pub.
Shaddar also stands, but he moves to the bar and takes a stool, setting the tankard of ale he has been slowly sipping during the meeting with Jorin and Bort and then the interrogation of Constable Snook down on the bar. Hawke nods in his direction as he hears him arrive.
Shaddar has picked up enough mental comments from the blind and quiet barkeep to know that the man is much more perceptive than he appears. He has been looking forward to questioning the man.
“Hawke is it?” Nod. “You look like a man who knows things about this town. Tell me: what do you know about the Lords of the city?”
“Don’t know much about that,” Hawke replies in curt tones, clearly designed to indicate his reluctance to talk at all. His thoughts are much more verbose: “Lots of folk talk about the Lords of the city, using their names in vain and all, but not many of them know who they really are or have ever seen them, I warrant!”
“Do you know who they are?”
Hawke lifts his head up towards Shaddar with a funny look. “I just said I don’t know, sir.”
“What’s the matter with this fellow? Does he think that if he asks me more than once, that he’ll get more information?” Hawke thinks.
Shaddar finds this hilarious. “That’s exactly what I think, yes…”
The bartop is glistening and Shaddar can not see a stain or even a speck of dirt. The cleanliness and sterility of this place, whether it has been the city, alleys, or even the interior of the pub, is disturbing in its universality. It is impossible for a city to not have refuse somewhere! Where is it? Who has tidied it away?
Shaddar decides to ask. “Your fair city is so clean! As is this establishment! Tell me: who handles your sanitation?”
“I keep a clean shop, sir. And at night, those whose duty it is come and clean up.” Thinking: “Filthy palehairs and lumpys! I don’t see why we should pay any taxes at all to give them food, clothing, shelter… They should be happy to live in and under the gutter! They collect enough trash to eat well enough. I can’t stand to be near their filthy hides! All around me they are… I can’t live in the streets and I’m banished from the slums so I must live here where I can smell the reek from their vermin-infested hovels!”
“So who is it exactly that comes and clean the streets?” Shaddar asks.
“You know. Palehairs. Lumpys.” Shaddar can taste the vitriol of disgust and racism in the man’s thoughts.
“I don’t know these names. I’m foreign. Can you help me out a bit?”
“They go by lots of different names. Call ‘em what you like, sir. Lumpys are short, but strong. Brown or green, with foul, lumpy skin.” His thoughts clarify the issue for Shaddar, “They like folks to call them by their ‘proper name’, but I’ll wander in the Mist before I’ll call ‘em hobgoblins!”
“It’s unlikely you’ll see any lumpys. They stay out of sight as is proper. Palehairs, though? Might see them out in the streets at night if you squint.” The man then thinks, “Those scrawny, pointy-eared freaks. Never met a single dark elf that was worth the spit they deserve to have in their eye. I’m almost glad I’m blind so I don’t have to see their ugly faces anymore!”
“But where do they all live? Do they have their own quarter or part of town?”
“They live here. All those locked doors? That’s them.” As Hawke washes an empty tankard busily, his mind carries on the conversation, “All of us who no ‘proper’ citizen wants to see are kept in the border zone. Every building wall is lined with lead so they won’t be able to peek out at proper folks with their wicked palehair sorceries!”
Shaddar find this quite fascinating. “Locked doors? Which side is locked, I wonder? Are they houses or prisons? Hmmm… I’m glad to see that there is a dark underbelly to this pristine utopia. I can work with a dark underbelly.” He is glad to know about the lead lining the walls also. It indicates a level of paranoia that is quite illuminating. And of course, the lead is also blocking his ability to see the thoughts of the inhabitants, and that explains why the border zone has seemed so lifeless to him.
“Well. What about the Guild of Villains and the Guild of Heroes? I am new to town and must confess I am less aware of the nature of these groups than I should be.”
Shrug. “Too bad. Can’t help ya. Haven’t seen much of either one of ‘em.” A stream of curses in the man’s mind is followed by more coherent thoughts, “Villains don’t show up in my shop! Oh, no! I’m not ritzy enough for them! They’ve got their own pubs and clubs. Sure, as soon as I lost my eyesight they said, ‘Get lost, old man! You’re no good to us anymore!’ But I had my revenge! They didn’t realize how well I studied – I stole so much gold off the top of their profits! Ha! That’s how I was able to buy this place and have a decent retirement. Well. It would be decent if I didn’t have to deal with such sulking pules like Jorin, Bort, and now their country-bumpkin friends… And the Heroes? Ugh! They come in here all high-and-mighty and order a glass of milk… or water! Pompous! They act like they know what they are doing, but they are totally incompetent!”
Shaddar is very pleased to hear this! “Perfect. Incompetent opposition is the best kind.”
“Thank you, sir! You have been very helpful.” He knows the man will not believe him and this is nothing but an advantage.
An eyebrow is raised and a slight headshake in disbelief. As Shaddar expected.
Shaddar sets off into the city, looking to find his way into the slums in order to take a gander at them. He has seen, from a distance at any rate, the streets. He has walked in the border zones quite a bit, but he wants to see the part of the city that is controlled by the Guild of Villains that he is working on antagonizing.
Shaddar is sure he will find the slums if he just keeps walking. According to the minds he has read so far, the border zone is like a filament running down the center of the city, filled with small branches and avenues that reach every part of the city easily, with streets on one side and slums on the other.
Even though he doesn’t know his way, he is fearless and confident of handling any challenge. “It’s not like anyone will try to mug me!” he thinks with humor.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 8 Chapter 10 >
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Crossover - Chapter 8
Now that Shaddar has learned a few last pieces of information from Jorin and Bort that he felt he was lacking, he is ready to give his minions their orders.
Jorin and Bort are informed that they will be in charge of the new guild’s gossip operation since they have all the contacts needed. This seems to please them greatly.
“Visit all of your free-spirited friends and your gossip patrons to spread the word about the violent turn the Guild of Villains has taken. The Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues is against such uncouth actions! We will pull down these usurpers of the natural order and replace them. This is a time for cultured, charismatic villains – not brutal, iron-fisted ones!”
“Oh, we can do that, Boss!” Jorin says eagerly.
“Yeah, that’s some good dirt!” Bort adds.
“Good. For your information, Toothsnatcher will now be in charge of the Guild’s mugging operation. Cutt will handle the business of delivering insults to other people’s enemies. And Loolipo will take charge of the practice of spreading slanders as a form of revenge.” The men look a bit startled and are thinking of questioning this sudden change in their usual routine, but Shaddar waves them away.
“You must be about the work I have assigned, gentleman! I expect to see you back here by nightfall, at which time I will dispense your first payment as founding members. Remember, we agreed upon 4%, wasn’t it?”
Jorin stands quickly while talking fast, “Yeah, that’s right! Let’s go, Bort! We can just make it Murriel’s before she closes up shop for tea-time!”
Once the humans are gone, Shaddar instructs his thralls as to how they will ‘improve’ on the business models of Jorin and Bort, “Begin all of your transactions as you have heard Jorin and Bort explain – this is what the people of this city have come to expect. In all cases, stay inside the border zone alleyways – do not enter the streets or the slums. In addition, you will insure that your victims and clients know that you are members of the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues.“
“This statement, combined with the matching outfits, will be clues, hopefully sufficient to lead the curious and powerful right into my clutches,” Shaddar thinks with morbid glee.
He turns his eyes to Toothsnatcher and mentally gives him his orders, “You will perform actual muggings. No deaths if you can help it, but collect every last possession from your victims, down to their small-clothes. Do not stay in one place, but circulate freely to bring in the largest number of marks.” The minotaur is pleased with the assignment and cracks his knuckles in anticipation while chuckling nastily.
Shaddar next mentally addresses Cutt, “You will insult people as viciously as you are able, as loudly and as painfully as you can. The sensibilities of the populace seem quite fragile here; therefore your standard insults should be sufficient to render most of your victims and those around them who hear you into a state of apoplexy. This is your goal.” The gnome is delighted – he is sure that such activities will please the evil, mole-headed god that he reveres.
Loolipo is the last the hear his mental commands, “You will only spread salacious slanders that will make people want to hunt you down and challenge you to a duel to restore their good names. Should it come to that, disarm or disable the humans and flee. I leave it to you to come up with suitably horrible slanders.” Shaddar is amused that the kuo-toa is not happy about the assignment at all. She dislikes the idea of running from a fight that she could win and isn’t hopeful that she can figure out what kinds of things the humans will find disturbingly rude.
Shaddar is about to give her some further ideas when the door opens and in walks a tough-looking constable. He is obviously of a higher rank than any in the group that Shaddar killed earlier, but it is very likely that he is here in response to that very event.
The man swaggers over to the barkeep and Hawke asks, “Who’s that? I don’t recognize the sound of your boots.”
“Constable Snook, sir. Chief Sergeant Liam Snook. I’m looking for two of your wormy boarders. I know they still live here and I need to question them. Again.”
“And who might they be?”
“Jorin and Bort.”
“Haven’t seen them for years.”
The constable has clearly heard this line before and has no patience for it! He reaches across the bar, grabs the man by his shirt, and shakes him roughly.
“Don’t give me that, you rodent!”
“Ah! They left a few minutes ago! Why don’t you go ask their friends over there where they went?”
“Friends, eh?” He drops the barkeep and turns to see Shaddar and his thralls.
Shaddar’s tentacles twitch as he listens to Constable Snook’s thoughts, “Ugh. How far those lads have fallen… If these are their new friends…”
The Chief Sergeant strides over to their table and points a finger at Shaddar. “Well? Jorin and Bort? Where are they?”
Shaddar attempts to use his most friendly voice as he replies, “The barkeep is correct. You just missed them, I’m afraid. They said they had to leave in a hurry. Something about they had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. They said that they barely escaped alive when the Guild of Villains murdered some constables.”
“What?!”
“You don’t know? Oh, my.” Shaddar leans forward and places his fingertips together.
“Yes, yes. I have heard about the Murder-Most-Foul. But what’s this foolish prattle about the Guild?”
“Jorin and Bort were in hiding from the Guild. Some sort of friction, I gather. They were in the process of fleeing when a group of thugs surrounded them. Jorin and Bort assured me that they thought their days were at last ended! But then, a group of constables rounded the corner! When the brave constables tried to step in to save them, the Guild reacted quite violently… It sounded horrible! I dare not repeat what Jorin and Bort described to me!”
“Yes. I wasn’t there myself, nor have I seen the bodies, but the stories going around are quite fanciful. Haven’t heard a credible report yet that I can believe. One supposed eyewitness to the crime, a young constable only four months on the force, reportedly said the most outlandish stuff! But by the time I got to him he had stopped talking. Now he just stares into space without blinking – refuses to look at you, talk, eat, or drink. Odd behavior – I think he knows something, but either can’t or won’t talk anymore. The bottom line is I’ve got five dead constables and the only thing that’s for certain is that they weren’t killed by undead.”
“It’s tragic!”
The barkeep has a strange expression on his face. Shaddar takes a moment to listen in on Hawke’s thinking: “This new pal of Jorin and Bort’s is a smooth one. Can’t figure him out at all. I wonder what his angle really is? His story doesn’t hold water with everything I have heard here today. I’d think he’s capable of being a Guildmaster if he wasn’t so obviously unaccustomed to our city life and so taken by the skills of Jorin and Bort! But still… Murder-Most-Foul, is it? I wonder…” Shaddar renews his goal to speak to this interesting and thoughtful man.
“Hmm. So you say the Guild of Villains did it?” the Chief Sergeant probes.
“I didn’t see it myself, but if Jorin and Bort say so – it must be true! I’ve known them for long enough to know that you can take them at their very stout word!”
“Hmm. Yes.” Shaddar returns his mental eavesdropping to the man just in time to hear, “These sods are even dumber than Jorin and Bort! And that’s saying something!”
Snook puts both hands behind his back and rocks back and forth on his heels. “If Jorin and Bort witnessed this crime, it is imperative that I speak with them. Where are they?”
“I don’t know. They told me that they would have to go into hiding. The Guild knows that they witnessed their heinous deed. I think they’ve gone to ground and won’t return until they think it’s safe.”
“Just like those two cowards… Fine. I assume that you are some of their carnival-freak friends?”
Shaddar looks aghast and horrified as he responds, “Please! That’s very rude! Carnival-specialist friends, if you please!”
The Constable continues speaking as if has not heard, “If you see them, let them know that the constabulary can offer them protection from the Guild – if what you’re saying is true. By the way, why are you lads still in costume? You’re not working right now are you?”
“Oh, we’re always working. You never know what kind of swine is going to come through the door and request a performance!” The man gives Shaddar a rough look with a raised eyebrow.
“Just be sure to tell ‘em,“ Constable Snook says gruffly as he turns away.
As he stomps towards the door Shaddar hears him thinking, “Has the world gone mad? There is no way the Guild did this thing. But there’s no way that a freak that’s sucking scum off the bottom rung of society would dare to insult me either and that just happened… Why are these types even tolerated by the Lords of the city?” The door slams as he exits the building.
“Lords of the city?” Shaddar thinks, his tentacles curling over one another absently, “That sounds… promising.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 7 Chapter 9 >
Jorin and Bort are informed that they will be in charge of the new guild’s gossip operation since they have all the contacts needed. This seems to please them greatly.
“Visit all of your free-spirited friends and your gossip patrons to spread the word about the violent turn the Guild of Villains has taken. The Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues is against such uncouth actions! We will pull down these usurpers of the natural order and replace them. This is a time for cultured, charismatic villains – not brutal, iron-fisted ones!”
“Oh, we can do that, Boss!” Jorin says eagerly.
“Yeah, that’s some good dirt!” Bort adds.
“Good. For your information, Toothsnatcher will now be in charge of the Guild’s mugging operation. Cutt will handle the business of delivering insults to other people’s enemies. And Loolipo will take charge of the practice of spreading slanders as a form of revenge.” The men look a bit startled and are thinking of questioning this sudden change in their usual routine, but Shaddar waves them away.
“You must be about the work I have assigned, gentleman! I expect to see you back here by nightfall, at which time I will dispense your first payment as founding members. Remember, we agreed upon 4%, wasn’t it?”
Jorin stands quickly while talking fast, “Yeah, that’s right! Let’s go, Bort! We can just make it Murriel’s before she closes up shop for tea-time!”
Once the humans are gone, Shaddar instructs his thralls as to how they will ‘improve’ on the business models of Jorin and Bort, “Begin all of your transactions as you have heard Jorin and Bort explain – this is what the people of this city have come to expect. In all cases, stay inside the border zone alleyways – do not enter the streets or the slums. In addition, you will insure that your victims and clients know that you are members of the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues.“
“This statement, combined with the matching outfits, will be clues, hopefully sufficient to lead the curious and powerful right into my clutches,” Shaddar thinks with morbid glee.
He turns his eyes to Toothsnatcher and mentally gives him his orders, “You will perform actual muggings. No deaths if you can help it, but collect every last possession from your victims, down to their small-clothes. Do not stay in one place, but circulate freely to bring in the largest number of marks.” The minotaur is pleased with the assignment and cracks his knuckles in anticipation while chuckling nastily.
Shaddar next mentally addresses Cutt, “You will insult people as viciously as you are able, as loudly and as painfully as you can. The sensibilities of the populace seem quite fragile here; therefore your standard insults should be sufficient to render most of your victims and those around them who hear you into a state of apoplexy. This is your goal.” The gnome is delighted – he is sure that such activities will please the evil, mole-headed god that he reveres.
Loolipo is the last the hear his mental commands, “You will only spread salacious slanders that will make people want to hunt you down and challenge you to a duel to restore their good names. Should it come to that, disarm or disable the humans and flee. I leave it to you to come up with suitably horrible slanders.” Shaddar is amused that the kuo-toa is not happy about the assignment at all. She dislikes the idea of running from a fight that she could win and isn’t hopeful that she can figure out what kinds of things the humans will find disturbingly rude.
Shaddar is about to give her some further ideas when the door opens and in walks a tough-looking constable. He is obviously of a higher rank than any in the group that Shaddar killed earlier, but it is very likely that he is here in response to that very event.
The man swaggers over to the barkeep and Hawke asks, “Who’s that? I don’t recognize the sound of your boots.”
“Constable Snook, sir. Chief Sergeant Liam Snook. I’m looking for two of your wormy boarders. I know they still live here and I need to question them. Again.”
“And who might they be?”
“Jorin and Bort.”
“Haven’t seen them for years.”
The constable has clearly heard this line before and has no patience for it! He reaches across the bar, grabs the man by his shirt, and shakes him roughly.
“Don’t give me that, you rodent!”
“Ah! They left a few minutes ago! Why don’t you go ask their friends over there where they went?”
“Friends, eh?” He drops the barkeep and turns to see Shaddar and his thralls.
Shaddar’s tentacles twitch as he listens to Constable Snook’s thoughts, “Ugh. How far those lads have fallen… If these are their new friends…”
The Chief Sergeant strides over to their table and points a finger at Shaddar. “Well? Jorin and Bort? Where are they?”
Shaddar attempts to use his most friendly voice as he replies, “The barkeep is correct. You just missed them, I’m afraid. They said they had to leave in a hurry. Something about they had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. They said that they barely escaped alive when the Guild of Villains murdered some constables.”
“What?!”
“You don’t know? Oh, my.” Shaddar leans forward and places his fingertips together.
“Yes, yes. I have heard about the Murder-Most-Foul. But what’s this foolish prattle about the Guild?”
“Jorin and Bort were in hiding from the Guild. Some sort of friction, I gather. They were in the process of fleeing when a group of thugs surrounded them. Jorin and Bort assured me that they thought their days were at last ended! But then, a group of constables rounded the corner! When the brave constables tried to step in to save them, the Guild reacted quite violently… It sounded horrible! I dare not repeat what Jorin and Bort described to me!”
“Yes. I wasn’t there myself, nor have I seen the bodies, but the stories going around are quite fanciful. Haven’t heard a credible report yet that I can believe. One supposed eyewitness to the crime, a young constable only four months on the force, reportedly said the most outlandish stuff! But by the time I got to him he had stopped talking. Now he just stares into space without blinking – refuses to look at you, talk, eat, or drink. Odd behavior – I think he knows something, but either can’t or won’t talk anymore. The bottom line is I’ve got five dead constables and the only thing that’s for certain is that they weren’t killed by undead.”
“It’s tragic!”
The barkeep has a strange expression on his face. Shaddar takes a moment to listen in on Hawke’s thinking: “This new pal of Jorin and Bort’s is a smooth one. Can’t figure him out at all. I wonder what his angle really is? His story doesn’t hold water with everything I have heard here today. I’d think he’s capable of being a Guildmaster if he wasn’t so obviously unaccustomed to our city life and so taken by the skills of Jorin and Bort! But still… Murder-Most-Foul, is it? I wonder…” Shaddar renews his goal to speak to this interesting and thoughtful man.
“Hmm. So you say the Guild of Villains did it?” the Chief Sergeant probes.
“I didn’t see it myself, but if Jorin and Bort say so – it must be true! I’ve known them for long enough to know that you can take them at their very stout word!”
“Hmm. Yes.” Shaddar returns his mental eavesdropping to the man just in time to hear, “These sods are even dumber than Jorin and Bort! And that’s saying something!”
Snook puts both hands behind his back and rocks back and forth on his heels. “If Jorin and Bort witnessed this crime, it is imperative that I speak with them. Where are they?”
“I don’t know. They told me that they would have to go into hiding. The Guild knows that they witnessed their heinous deed. I think they’ve gone to ground and won’t return until they think it’s safe.”
“Just like those two cowards… Fine. I assume that you are some of their carnival-freak friends?”
Shaddar looks aghast and horrified as he responds, “Please! That’s very rude! Carnival-specialist friends, if you please!”
The Constable continues speaking as if has not heard, “If you see them, let them know that the constabulary can offer them protection from the Guild – if what you’re saying is true. By the way, why are you lads still in costume? You’re not working right now are you?”
“Oh, we’re always working. You never know what kind of swine is going to come through the door and request a performance!” The man gives Shaddar a rough look with a raised eyebrow.
“Just be sure to tell ‘em,“ Constable Snook says gruffly as he turns away.
As he stomps towards the door Shaddar hears him thinking, “Has the world gone mad? There is no way the Guild did this thing. But there’s no way that a freak that’s sucking scum off the bottom rung of society would dare to insult me either and that just happened… Why are these types even tolerated by the Lords of the city?” The door slams as he exits the building.
“Lords of the city?” Shaddar thinks, his tentacles curling over one another absently, “That sounds… promising.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 7 Chapter 9 >
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Crossover - Chapter 7
“Bort!” Jorin says with a grin. “Why don’t you go up to our room and bring down the materials to make some uniforms while we talk? We don’t want to keep The Boss waiting, now, do we?”
Bort is unable to completely mask his concern. “No. No, we wouldn’t want that.” He quickly leaves to go running up some stairs. Shaddar’s tentacles twitch in amusement and satisfaction at the fearful thoughts running through Bort’s mind.
Jorin tips back his ale and drinks noisily. When he sets the tankard down he leans in close to the gnome and says, “You’ll be very impressed with Bort’s handiwork. He’s really quite good with a needle and thread. Well, once I’ve given him all the design ideas he needs, of course!”
“Oh, of course,” sneers Cutt. Jorin is oblivious to the bite in the gnome’s reply and grins hugely.
It is clear to Shaddar that Jorin is dumber than Bort, yet he seems to be the leader. As is often the case with lower life forms, Jorin’s qualifications to being in charge seems to be a loud voice and a slightly more extroverted personality. Backwards from the proper illithid ways.
“How do these beings even function in groups at all?” Shaddar thinks. "They are so clueless as to how things actually work that it is a wonder that they are able to keep the city running." Shaddar peers at the frothy, dark ale in his tankard and wonders if perhaps the liquid was not carefully brewed, but merely formed accidentally via being left out in the sun by the cretins who live in this city.
Bort returns with his arms loaded with bolts of cloth, thread, and other materials. He immediately sets about taking measurements from the surly and unexcited thralls. While this is slightly amusing, Shaddar has pressing needs and begins to question the two humans to determine what kind of fish he has caught in his net. It is critical to know how connected these two are to the rest of the city before his plans can be finalized.
The conversation is frustrating, as the humans seem unable to grasp his desires and wander off onto meaningless tangents – bragging about their exploits and skills. They are such pompous, self-important, blowhards that it is difficult to know the truth of any of their statements. Unfortunately, almost every mind he has peeked into in this city has revealed similar thoughts of baseless superiority.
Shaddar is frustrated at such strange and foolish human customs! Their simplistic methods of showing prestige and power have clearly resulted in a city where everyone has the outward trappings of power, effectively masking those who really have it. Such things are crystal clear in an illithid city, but here? Bah! Shaddar wonders if this subterfuge is by design or if it is just an unintended consequence of the primates bumbling about in the dark, mimicking one another like the simians that they are.
Shaddar reins in his temper and puts on a show of outward patience.
“All very interesting, gentlemen! However, I must know who the leaders in the city are in order to properly bring our suit before them. Tell me, who is the most powerful person in your circle of acquaintances?”
Jorin looks slightly embarrassed, and it is Bort who answers, “We haven’t gotten around that much, really. I mean, Big City is, well, big.”
“That’s true. And we don’t exactly travel in high circles,” Jorin adds with a lazy wave of one hand.
Bort mutters, “We don’t travel in low circles either…” Jorin kicks him under the table to shut him up. Shaddar closes his eyes to mask the fact that they are rolling up into his head.
“These men are ignoramuses. But they are active ones – thus they must know others of equal, if low-grade, quality,” he thinks. Quickly he asks them about others like themselves, who live and work outside of either the streets or the slums.
Jorin and Bort begin naming off a rattle of people, becoming confused and repeating themselves many times. However it is a simple matter for Shaddar to keep track. They have 27 peers that they know how to contact. He is pleased – in order to form his own guild, he will need many more members like these two small-minded fools. He will draw these others into his sphere soon enough.
“How is it that the constables know you by name? You must have quite a reputation in the city! What kinds of activities do you normally do?” Shaddar asks.
“Oh, yeah. Constable Rydal worked this area and he bumped into us all the time,” Bort says with a slight frown.
Jorin immediately begins to explain that the two men make their living by doing muggings, trading gossip, spreading slanders, and delivering insult-o-grams. It is clear that both of them are very pleased with themselves, but Shaddar can mentally ‘hear’ that the barkeep/owner of the pub is not impressed with the muggers ‘accomplishments’.
“Losers,” Hawke thinks, “Picking up the scraps the Guild of Villains leaves behind and thinking they are masters of their fate? Ha! They don’t have any idea of what the Guild really is all about!” Shaddar is amazed as he listens in to the bartender’s thoughts. The man is clearly the most intelligent human he has met thus far in the city. He resolves to have a private conversation with the man later.
Jorin and Bort talk about activities that are illegal in the well-to-do part of the city: the streets. (“They have to keep up appearances, but they’re all such filthy hypocrites – they just come to the border zones or the slums to do the same things that we do”) Drinking, clubs, dancing, drugs, gluttony, and every type of vice are all banned in the streets. Pubs like the Jester and Hawk Meadhall that they sit in can be found in the border zones, but the ‘hard stuff’ is only found in the slums.
Jorin leans into the center of the table and says in a low voice, “In the slums they even have places with,” he voice goes an octave lower, “painted ladies in them.”
Bort, blushing furiously, sputters, “Jorin! How can you speak of such things? It’s not right.”
“Ah, you’re such an innocent, Bort!” he laughs while slapping his friend heartily on the back. But Jorin’s thoughts are not quite in line with his bluff manner: “Not that I’d even step foot in such a vile place. Bort’s got that true enough – it’s not right.”
Shaddar’s reaction to this interplay is quite justified, he feels. “I just threw up a little in my beak… Gah.”
Bort looks at the tabletop in sadness. “You know, it’s funny, but I’m going to miss that stuffy git, Constable Rydal. I can’t believe that he’s dead.”
“It still doesn’t seem real to me either, Bort,” Jorin confesses, “I mean it’s just so unlike the Guild to… to kill. Oh, sure! There’s rumors that sometimes constables will die: like when undead attack the town, but never this! What’s it called? What’s that term? Bort, you know? The legal term for when someone kills somebody else?” Bort shrugs.
Shaddar is amazed. These people don’t even have the vocabulary to discuss a murder? This is proof enough that such things are exceedingly rare in this city. A fact that, once again, causes Shaddar to wonder just how such tight societal control is possible. No matter. For the time being he has his answer regarding the social status of his two pawns: These two men are essentially bottom-feeders without contacts in either high or low society. They hope that they can make a living without attracting the attention of any authorities: lawful or villainous. Clearly, Jorin and Bort have no contact with the kinds of people who run the ‘vile’ facilities in the slums.
"This is a bit disappointing, but it still can work for me,” Shaddar thinks. “I must put together an organization that will act as a catalyst (either as legitimate competition or as a perceived threat) to bring the true power centers in this place into the open. Once they are identified, I can make specific plans on how best to use them or neutralize each one in a nasty illithid trap...”
Bort snips off the last bit of thread and smiles as he says, “All done! Let’s see how these outfits fit, shall we? We’ll need to buy you some boots tomorrow, because I can’t make them, but the shirts and mustaches are ready!”
Once the three thralls have gotten the new clothes on the effect is just what Shaddar had hoped for. They are hastily cobbled together and ill-fitting. The thralls put them on without verbal complaint, but it is obvious that they are not happy. Cutt is particularly livid – a constant litany of curses and insults is running through his mind. Loolipo has a sad, puppy-dog look on her face as she suffers yet another indignity at the hands of the illithids. Her mustache looks like it was designed to hide the frill of catfish-like whiskers that surround her mouth. It looks awful. The minotaur has a huge paper mustache (“So it balances your horns, sir”) and he keeps batting at it with his hands in annoyance and obvious anger.
Bort raises a critical eyebrow and clicks his tongue as he looks them over. “They don’t look very good do they? Maybe I can take them back, work on them for a day or two, and try to clean it up a bit.”
Shaddar tosses his head negatively. “Nonsense. They are perfect,” he turns to the thralls and commands, “All three of you: tell Bort how much you love your new outfits.”
Toothsnatcher grits his teeth and grinds them together audibly as he spits out, “I loves it. A lot.”
His upper lip twitching and jerking like a dying spider, Cutt responds, “It is simply glorious to be so clearly identified with the two of you. Now everyone who sees me will know that we are together as a group. I will be able to bask in the reputation that you have so richly earned and so selflessly shared. It is an unbelievable gift. I will never forget this, I promise you. Never.”
Loolipo, with her mournful, unblinking eyes, blubbers, “I’ve never been so happy.”
Bort is beginning to catch on that the obedience of the thralls is not quite natural. His nervousness and fear cause him to mentally resolve not to ever get on The Boss' bad side. Shaddar is pleased. Jorin is completely clueless and accepts the praise as his due – even though he did nothing to make the outfits.
Their personal feelings are irrelevant. Shaddar has heard enough and has formed a plan.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 6 Chapter 8 >
Bort is unable to completely mask his concern. “No. No, we wouldn’t want that.” He quickly leaves to go running up some stairs. Shaddar’s tentacles twitch in amusement and satisfaction at the fearful thoughts running through Bort’s mind.
Jorin tips back his ale and drinks noisily. When he sets the tankard down he leans in close to the gnome and says, “You’ll be very impressed with Bort’s handiwork. He’s really quite good with a needle and thread. Well, once I’ve given him all the design ideas he needs, of course!”
“Oh, of course,” sneers Cutt. Jorin is oblivious to the bite in the gnome’s reply and grins hugely.
It is clear to Shaddar that Jorin is dumber than Bort, yet he seems to be the leader. As is often the case with lower life forms, Jorin’s qualifications to being in charge seems to be a loud voice and a slightly more extroverted personality. Backwards from the proper illithid ways.
“How do these beings even function in groups at all?” Shaddar thinks. "They are so clueless as to how things actually work that it is a wonder that they are able to keep the city running." Shaddar peers at the frothy, dark ale in his tankard and wonders if perhaps the liquid was not carefully brewed, but merely formed accidentally via being left out in the sun by the cretins who live in this city.
Bort returns with his arms loaded with bolts of cloth, thread, and other materials. He immediately sets about taking measurements from the surly and unexcited thralls. While this is slightly amusing, Shaddar has pressing needs and begins to question the two humans to determine what kind of fish he has caught in his net. It is critical to know how connected these two are to the rest of the city before his plans can be finalized.
The conversation is frustrating, as the humans seem unable to grasp his desires and wander off onto meaningless tangents – bragging about their exploits and skills. They are such pompous, self-important, blowhards that it is difficult to know the truth of any of their statements. Unfortunately, almost every mind he has peeked into in this city has revealed similar thoughts of baseless superiority.
Shaddar is frustrated at such strange and foolish human customs! Their simplistic methods of showing prestige and power have clearly resulted in a city where everyone has the outward trappings of power, effectively masking those who really have it. Such things are crystal clear in an illithid city, but here? Bah! Shaddar wonders if this subterfuge is by design or if it is just an unintended consequence of the primates bumbling about in the dark, mimicking one another like the simians that they are.
Shaddar reins in his temper and puts on a show of outward patience.
“All very interesting, gentlemen! However, I must know who the leaders in the city are in order to properly bring our suit before them. Tell me, who is the most powerful person in your circle of acquaintances?”
Jorin looks slightly embarrassed, and it is Bort who answers, “We haven’t gotten around that much, really. I mean, Big City is, well, big.”
“That’s true. And we don’t exactly travel in high circles,” Jorin adds with a lazy wave of one hand.
Bort mutters, “We don’t travel in low circles either…” Jorin kicks him under the table to shut him up. Shaddar closes his eyes to mask the fact that they are rolling up into his head.
“These men are ignoramuses. But they are active ones – thus they must know others of equal, if low-grade, quality,” he thinks. Quickly he asks them about others like themselves, who live and work outside of either the streets or the slums.
Jorin and Bort begin naming off a rattle of people, becoming confused and repeating themselves many times. However it is a simple matter for Shaddar to keep track. They have 27 peers that they know how to contact. He is pleased – in order to form his own guild, he will need many more members like these two small-minded fools. He will draw these others into his sphere soon enough.
“How is it that the constables know you by name? You must have quite a reputation in the city! What kinds of activities do you normally do?” Shaddar asks.
“Oh, yeah. Constable Rydal worked this area and he bumped into us all the time,” Bort says with a slight frown.
Jorin immediately begins to explain that the two men make their living by doing muggings, trading gossip, spreading slanders, and delivering insult-o-grams. It is clear that both of them are very pleased with themselves, but Shaddar can mentally ‘hear’ that the barkeep/owner of the pub is not impressed with the muggers ‘accomplishments’.
“Losers,” Hawke thinks, “Picking up the scraps the Guild of Villains leaves behind and thinking they are masters of their fate? Ha! They don’t have any idea of what the Guild really is all about!” Shaddar is amazed as he listens in to the bartender’s thoughts. The man is clearly the most intelligent human he has met thus far in the city. He resolves to have a private conversation with the man later.
Jorin and Bort talk about activities that are illegal in the well-to-do part of the city: the streets. (“They have to keep up appearances, but they’re all such filthy hypocrites – they just come to the border zones or the slums to do the same things that we do”) Drinking, clubs, dancing, drugs, gluttony, and every type of vice are all banned in the streets. Pubs like the Jester and Hawk Meadhall that they sit in can be found in the border zones, but the ‘hard stuff’ is only found in the slums.
Jorin leans into the center of the table and says in a low voice, “In the slums they even have places with,” he voice goes an octave lower, “painted ladies in them.”
Bort, blushing furiously, sputters, “Jorin! How can you speak of such things? It’s not right.”
“Ah, you’re such an innocent, Bort!” he laughs while slapping his friend heartily on the back. But Jorin’s thoughts are not quite in line with his bluff manner: “Not that I’d even step foot in such a vile place. Bort’s got that true enough – it’s not right.”
Shaddar’s reaction to this interplay is quite justified, he feels. “I just threw up a little in my beak… Gah.”
Bort looks at the tabletop in sadness. “You know, it’s funny, but I’m going to miss that stuffy git, Constable Rydal. I can’t believe that he’s dead.”
“It still doesn’t seem real to me either, Bort,” Jorin confesses, “I mean it’s just so unlike the Guild to… to kill. Oh, sure! There’s rumors that sometimes constables will die: like when undead attack the town, but never this! What’s it called? What’s that term? Bort, you know? The legal term for when someone kills somebody else?” Bort shrugs.
Shaddar is amazed. These people don’t even have the vocabulary to discuss a murder? This is proof enough that such things are exceedingly rare in this city. A fact that, once again, causes Shaddar to wonder just how such tight societal control is possible. No matter. For the time being he has his answer regarding the social status of his two pawns: These two men are essentially bottom-feeders without contacts in either high or low society. They hope that they can make a living without attracting the attention of any authorities: lawful or villainous. Clearly, Jorin and Bort have no contact with the kinds of people who run the ‘vile’ facilities in the slums.
"This is a bit disappointing, but it still can work for me,” Shaddar thinks. “I must put together an organization that will act as a catalyst (either as legitimate competition or as a perceived threat) to bring the true power centers in this place into the open. Once they are identified, I can make specific plans on how best to use them or neutralize each one in a nasty illithid trap...”
Bort snips off the last bit of thread and smiles as he says, “All done! Let’s see how these outfits fit, shall we? We’ll need to buy you some boots tomorrow, because I can’t make them, but the shirts and mustaches are ready!”
Once the three thralls have gotten the new clothes on the effect is just what Shaddar had hoped for. They are hastily cobbled together and ill-fitting. The thralls put them on without verbal complaint, but it is obvious that they are not happy. Cutt is particularly livid – a constant litany of curses and insults is running through his mind. Loolipo has a sad, puppy-dog look on her face as she suffers yet another indignity at the hands of the illithids. Her mustache looks like it was designed to hide the frill of catfish-like whiskers that surround her mouth. It looks awful. The minotaur has a huge paper mustache (“So it balances your horns, sir”) and he keeps batting at it with his hands in annoyance and obvious anger.
Bort raises a critical eyebrow and clicks his tongue as he looks them over. “They don’t look very good do they? Maybe I can take them back, work on them for a day or two, and try to clean it up a bit.”
Shaddar tosses his head negatively. “Nonsense. They are perfect,” he turns to the thralls and commands, “All three of you: tell Bort how much you love your new outfits.”
Toothsnatcher grits his teeth and grinds them together audibly as he spits out, “I loves it. A lot.”
His upper lip twitching and jerking like a dying spider, Cutt responds, “It is simply glorious to be so clearly identified with the two of you. Now everyone who sees me will know that we are together as a group. I will be able to bask in the reputation that you have so richly earned and so selflessly shared. It is an unbelievable gift. I will never forget this, I promise you. Never.”
Loolipo, with her mournful, unblinking eyes, blubbers, “I’ve never been so happy.”
Bort is beginning to catch on that the obedience of the thralls is not quite natural. His nervousness and fear cause him to mentally resolve not to ever get on The Boss' bad side. Shaddar is pleased. Jorin is completely clueless and accepts the praise as his due – even though he did nothing to make the outfits.
Their personal feelings are irrelevant. Shaddar has heard enough and has formed a plan.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 6 Chapter 8 >
Friday, October 12, 2012
AAR: September 29, 2012 - Sudden Threat
Low rock walls can be climbed by models as difficult terrain, but once on the flat surfaces the rocks are treated as normal terrain.
There is no cover in the form of vegetation - only hills, rocks, and the statues themselves are available to hide behind.
Chainsawz Ladz:
HQ - Warboss
HQ - Big Mek (Shokk attack gun)
Elites - 15x Kommandoz (Nob with power claw, 2x Rokkit)
Troops - Deff Dread (2x Kustom mega-blasta)
Troops - 30x Boyz (Nob with power claw)
Troops - 30x Boyz (Nob with power claw)
Fast Attack - 2x Deffkopptas (Twin-linked rokkits)
Heavy Support - 3x Lobba gunz (6x Extra crew, Runtherd, 3x Ammo runts)
Heavy Support - 10x Flash Gitz (Kaptain Krunktoof, Painboy, Cyborks, Blastas, Shootier)
"You putz sta'chews in moosee'em? Dat so dum! We blow dem all up - dat a betta plan!"
Dark Purifiers
HQ - Captain (Transport: Drop pod)
HQ - Librarian (Gate of infinity, Vortex of doom)
Elites - Dreadnought (Transport: Drop pod; 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)
Heavy Support - Land Raider Redeemer (Multi-metla)
"Gotta catch 'em all!"
The dawn of war game type means that almost all forces will be kept in reserve - only 2 Troops units and 1 HQ unit may be placed during setup.
Tactical squad 3 is placed near the lone statue to the south, with some units holding the high ground.
Chainsaw's favorite deffdread takes a lonely watch near the north statue. It will have to hold until relieved...
Tactical squad 1 moves towards the ork-held northern statue.
- Tactical squad 3, the captain, and the drop pod all attack mob1. Only 2 boyz die, but they were both picking snot-grubs out of their noses, so they were obviously not the brightest of stars... "Good rid'ence ta bad rubbish!" laughs the warboss.
The huge groups of orks that belong to mob1 swarm around both sides of the drop pod and surround the captain. The warboss chortles evilly the entire time.
- The deffdread tries to kill some space marines in tactical squad 1, but misses.
- Mob1 shoots at the captain as they close with him, but his impressive armor stops every attack.
- Seeing this, the orks break out their chainaxes and start chopping! The captain takes two wounds.
The terminators also try to respond to the call for aid, unfortunately as they begin to materialize on the battlefield their failsafes activate - their target is off! The teleport is aborted which is much better than being merged with a rock. They return to the reserves.
The librarian accesses the infinity gate and steps through the fabric of space itself!
- Tactical squad 1 shoots a krak missile at the deffdread. The armor-piercing warhead blasts right through the front armor and blows a huge assortment of gears and chains out of the back of the machine! Strangely, this is not a serious detriment to the walker at all. "No!" screams the pilot, "Not me spare gear collection! Youse rotten 'umies! Me been savin' dat fer weeks!"
- The assault between the captain and mob1 continues. There are just too many enemies all around the beleaguered captain - he falls!
Mob1 has their blood up and charge into tactical squad 3 with horrible slavering jaws gaping wide.
The deffdread moves away from the rocks in order to range in on the librarian.
- The deffdread fires his mega-blastas at the librarian and cuts the man right in half.
- The deffkoptas open fire at the drop pod and transform it into smoking wreckage.
- Mob1 shoots at tactical squad 3, killing 2 of the marines. Then they "get ta gripz wif 'em". The remaining space marines are butchered, struggling in vain to bring down a single foe.
The snipers double-time into the battle as well, smiling grimly at the men in tactical squad 2 as they pass them.
The land raider growls effortlessly up the hill and turns it's weapon systems towards the celebrating orks of mob1 below.
- The dreadnought opens fire at near point-blank range at the deffdread, but is sorely disappointed as the shot goes right between the war-walker's legs.
- The twin-linked assault cannons of the land raider open up into the midst of mob1 and 4 orcs are shredded by the staccato of explosive rounds.
Mob1 hurries to get out of the whirlwind of death that the tank has brought to them.
The deffdread closes with horrid shrieks with the dreadnought, "Watch where youse aimmin' at, ya clanker!"
- The deffdread lands a lucky shot and the dreadnought's gyroscope system is vaporized. The war machine quickly falls over, it's limbs thrashing helplessly.
- The kommandoz fire two rokkits at the land raider, but both of them spiral off into the distance.
- The deffkoptas unload a rack of rokkits at the tank as well and this time they hit! Or did they? Well, if the pilot's squint, they can just make out where the paint has been dulled from the impacts. "How we kill dat ting?"
- The Big Mek charges up his shokk attack gun with a mad cackle. A snotling is sucked into the intake and is hurled through the Warp! The raving mad snotling/projectile emerges from null-space two feet from the tank's side armor, traveling at over 100KPH. The resulting explosion against the armor is not very effective, although quite spectacular in it's goriness. A small squeegee on the tank's view-port wipes back and forth, removing the ooze from the armored glass...
The land raider driver snorts in amusement, "These xenos can't outrun me!" He drives to the other side of the hill and again points the weapons down at mob1.
The snipers move into position on top of a small hill and break out their long rifles.
Tactical squad 1 has some trouble with the crumbling rocky ledge that borders the lava flow, but they manage to get on top where it is flat.
- Terminator squad 1 shoots krak missiles at the deffdread and black smoke pours from the engine. The primary oil pump is gone, but while they watch a secondary motor sputters to life! It will only be immobilized for a short time.
- Terminator squad 2 pours all their considerable firepower up the hill at the big mek and his unnatural-looking weapon. The ork leader is quickly cut to small bits from the onslaught.
- The land raider uses one of it's heavy flamestorm cannons and roasts 5 ladz from mob1. Their tortured cries are sweet music to those who have pledged to never leave an alien alive.
The kommandos move forward even as mob1 falls back from the lethal weapons of the land raider tank.
- The deffkoptas send a stream of rokkits at the tank. All of them hit, but none of them manage to penetrate the super-tough vehicle.
- Even though it is immobile, the deffdread pilot can still pull a trigger. It tries to hit the drop pod, but the lack of mobility hinders its aim and it misses.
- The huge group of mob2 shoots at terminator squad 2, killing two of them even before they get into close-combat range. Once the hand-to-hand melee is started 2 more terminators fall, leaving only one man alive in a sea of greenskins. Two orks are killed by the space marines in this action, so the battle will continue to rage next turn.
Tactical squad 1 runs along the edge of the lava pool with no fear. Their plan is to secure the second northern statue and it seems to be working fine so far.
Terminator squad 1 rounds the rockpile that the lobbaz have hidden behind and prepares to kick their toy guns over...
- The snipers take careful aim at the deffdread and blow the secondary oil pump out. The engine seizes at once and the machine shudders to a stop.
- The drop pod's automatic stormbolter gun shoots at the lobbaz, but there is no effect.
- The land raider shoots a hail of rounds into the annoying deffkoptas, and damage one of them, but they are both still in the air - dodging the attack madly.
- Terminator squad 1 opens fire on the grot who are setting up their gunz, killing 3 of them. Then they close with them and rip all their little heads off! The blood-splattered lobbaz are left behind, with no one to fire them...
- The lone terminator from squad 2 bravely tries to kill some of mob2 in close quarters combat. He fails as the sheer weight of enemy numbers pulls him down.
Mob2 weave around the forlorn lobba gunz on their way to settle accounts with terminator squad 1.
Mob1 moves behind the cover of the statue as the kommandoz move towards the tank. The warboss moves to join the kommandoz instead of the mob he has sent to hide.
The deffkoptas move to get a better shot at the tank and close the gap around the wreck of the drop pod.
- The deffkoptas rokkits flare into the tank once again. This time a rokkit penetrates the armor, but the rokkit turns out to be a dud. "Wot a gyp! Me no can be'leaf it!"
- The kommandoz shoot their own rokkits at the tank, but the armor protects it from any damage.
- The flash gitz open fire with their dangerously radioactive weapons at tactical squad 1. The painboy is kept busy for a few moments as he slaps on skin-grafts (ripped from very unwilling grot-donors as he goes), and no lasting damage is done by the guns to their owners. The same can not be said for the weapon's targets. The over-powered energy bolts tear through the space marines power armor as if it wasn't there. None of them survive the unbelievable over-kill.
- Mob2 slams into terminator squad 1. The terminators stand strong and not a single fellow goes down. Five of the orks are pulped by the space marines deadly power fists. This only seems to anger the remaining ladz...
The driver of the land raider isn't sure, but he knows one thing he can do - send his tank roaring across the bodies of greenskin filth!
The land raider tank shocks the kommandoz!
The warboss sees the huge tank speeding towards him and spits a fungal-goober into the dirt. As his proud army watches, he charges towards the tank, even as the rest of the kommandoz are diving out of the way.
With his power claw snapping impatiently, he tries to cut the treads in half as it draws near. It will take split-second timing... Can he do it?
NO!!! With a horrible >CRUNCH!< the warboss is flattened by the rumbling tank! A small squeegee wipes back and forth over the view-port, clearing away the resulting 'warboss juice' as best as it can...
The land raider scatters the rest of the kommandoz and they flee in dismay, trying to escape the same horrible fate as their brave, but foolish leader. The tank comes to a stop just short of the statue, thus denying the orks the objective! The score is now 1 to 0 in the space marines favor!
- The land raider unloads it's flamestorm cannons into mob1 and incinerates 4 more boys.
- The snipers try to kill some of the flash gitz, but can't seem to hurt them.
- The drop pod shoots into the flash gitz as well and it manages to injure one of them. This annoys the highly-trained snipers to no end: an automatic system did more damage then they did? Pffft.
- The battle between terminator squad 1 and mob2 continues as 3 terminators die for the return of only a single ork falling out of ranks. The last terminator is disgusted at the way this fight has gone for him and his proud battle-brothers.
The kommadoz turn about and charge towards the tank, swearing to rip it apart. Mob1 also comes out from hiding to do their fallen warboss proud by a final, desperate assault.
The flash gitz stroll over to the drop pod while making obscene hand gestures towards the fuming and impotent snipers.
- The deffkoptas and kommandos fire rokkits from all directions at the land raider, but nothing seems to dent the thing!
- The flash gitz shoot at the drop pod and when it fails to blow up, they slam their virbo-axes into it. The drop pod explodes!
- Mob2 finally kills the last terminator from squad 1 and consolodate their ranks towards the statue. They are in range and capture the objective! The score is now tied: 1 all!
- Mob1 charges into the idling tank. The driver is confident that their puny weapons can't damage his mighty vehicle. But the nob's power claw slices through the internal promethium feed tank - AND THE INTERIOR TURNS INTO AN INFERNO! The crew of the tank die horribly, much to the orks profound satisfaction! The tank's internal ammunition stores cooks off almost instantly and the tank goes up like a bomb! Mob1 reclaims the southern objective with the removal of the hated tank, making the score 2 to 1 in their favor!
Thursday, October 11, 2012
AAR: September 22, 2012 - Relic Battle
Chainsawz Ladz:
HQ - Warboss
HQ - Ol' Boomy
Elites - 15x Kommandoz with Boss Blackgutz (2x Burna)
Elites - 15x Kommandoz (Nob with power claw, 2x Rokkit)
Troops - 12x Boyz (Nob with power claw, Rokkit)
Troops - 12x Boyz (Nob with power claw, Rokkit)
Troops - 12x Boyz (Nob, Rokkit)
Troops - 12x Boyz (Nob, Rokkit)
Troops - 12x Boyz (Nob, Rokkit)
Troops - 17x Gretchin (Runtherd with grot-prod)
Fast Attack - 3x Deffkopptas (Twin-linked rokkits)
Heavy Support - 3x Lobba gunz (6x Extra crew, Runtherd, 3x Ammo runts)
Heavy Support - Deff Dread (2x Kustom mega-blasta)
"Dat shiny is gonna be Morks!"
Dark Purifiers
HQ - Captain
HQ - Chapter Master
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)
Heavy Support -Land Raider Redeemer (Multi-metla)
"I love the smell of promethium in the morning. Smells like... victory."
He selects the red long edge and Dark Purist is forced to accept the blue side.
Three small mobs of boyz take the north of the field. The deffdread and deffkoptas are in the center with another small mob of boyz on their flank.
The lobbaz cower like the grot they are behind the southern rocks. Some kommandoz take position on the top of the hill.
With Boss Blackgutz, a small mob of boyz, and a large gaggle of gretchin held in reserve, Warboss Chainsaw calls his forces ready for action!
Tactical marines in squads 1, 2, and 3 hold and protect the center.
The dreadnought and tactical squad 4 are at the south end of the battlefield.
The snipers find cover at the top of the opposite hill from the ork kommandoz and take careful aim at the hated xenos.
Those that do not run, position themselves to attack and then unleash a hail of hasty, loud, and quite inaccurate fire...
- The deffkoptas shoot their rokkits at the snipers and manage to kill one of them.
- The deffdread shoots at the terminator squad with its powerful kustom mega-blastas, but misses completely.
- The lobbaz bombard the snipers and kill one of them, pinning the rest.
- The kommandoz shoot at tactical squad 1 with their rokkits, but fail to hit anything.
The land raider cruises to the middle of the map while the terminators move towards the mobs coming around the hill.
Tactical squad 2 moves so they can stand on top of the rock bridge, giving them an excellent field of fire.
- The dreadnought and tactical squad 2 open fire at the polluting deffkoptas. Two of the offensive machines come crashing out of the sky.
- Tactical squads 1 and 3 shoot their heavy weapons at the kommandoz. 3 of the camouflaged orks die.
- The terminators unleash their fearsome weapons into mob2 and 8 boyz are splattered all over the hillside!
The pitiful remnants of mob2 takes a position on the crest of the north hill.
Mobs 1, 3, and 5 all move towards the marines that stand between them and the shiny 'no wotz that they lust after.
The deffdread positions itself to shoot through the cave at the tank.
The sole surviving deffkopta buzzes over the top of the dreadnought and swings its rokkits at the vulnerable bits on the walker's rear, with a savage and wild yell from the pilot.
Boss Blackgutz arrives from an unexpected quarter! They leap behind tactical squad 4 and make menacing noises...
- Mob1 and the deffdread shoot their heavy weapons at the land raider tank, but they all miss.
- The merger orks in mob2 shoot at tactical squad1 and also miss.
- The deffkopta rokkits miss completely as the wild-eyed pilot muffs his one chance at glory.
- The kommandoz shoot at the snipers, but every slug is a miss. The orkish 'marksmanship' is stunning in it's suckyness!
- The lobbaz pound the snipers, killing a sniper and a marine from tactical squad2 who was too close. None of the marines are pinned by the attack, however.
- Boss Blackgutz and his ladz rips through tactical squad 4 in a spray of crimson. None of the space marines survive their brutal attack.
The terminators charge into mob1.
The dreadnought moves swiftly to avenge the fallen battle-brothers in tactical squad 4.
The land raider moves as close as it can to the cave entrance where it has a clear line of fire to the grinding deffdread.
- Tactical squad 3 fires a krak missile at the last deffkopta and blows it out of the sky.
- Tactical squads 1 and 2 join their firepower to that of the snipers who all blaze away at mob4. The orks prove quite resilient to the attack as only two boyz die. Sgt. Immortus puts a huge hole in the nob, but somehow the beast stays on its feet.
- The land raider shoots the deffdread with it's melta and blows the clanking horror into greasy scraps. The assault cannon also speaks to the kommandoz above it, wasting 2 of them.
- The chapter master communicates via the vox to an orbiting spacecraft and a bombardment of epic proportions falls on the hapless heads of the lobbz! All of the kannonz are wrecked or explode and three of their crew are vaporized by the kinetic blast!
- The dreadnought hits Boss Balckgutz men with his weapons and his power claw. A total of 4 orkz die.
- The terminators pour their weapon fire into mob1 and eradicate all of the orks. The warboss also is wounded and looks around in anger as he sees that he is leading a squad of corpses. He does not have long to stew about it, as the terminators swarm him and pummel him to death. He only manages to take a single terminator down with him as his indignant cries turn into mewling gurgles.
All of the ork mobs rush towards their foes in an attempt to prove that they are the "tuffiz one" and should lead the rest of this warband.
Some gretchin arrive from reserves to watch after the shrine.
- With an unearthly howl, Ol' Boomy points a finger at the space marine captain. For a brief moment, nothing happens as the two heroes pit their willpower against each other - then the captain falls to the ground with a gasp of pain! Before the horrified eyes of his men, the captain is polymorphed into a huge pink swine! Ol' Boomy does a little jig in his fiendish delight at having afflicted his enemy with such a fearsome curse.
- Mob2 and the kommandoz shoot at the terminator squad. The only result is that the captain/pig is knocked out due to the blast of a concussive rokkit.
- Boss Blackgutz and his men try to take down the dreadnought to no avail.
- Mob 4 tangles with the snipers, but neither side can get enough soldiers into the fight to damage the other.
- Mob 3 slam into the terminators with high hopes, but they are quickly dashed. The terminator sergeant is taken down, but at the cost of ALL the rest of the orks! Owch!
- Mob 2 tries to stop the relentless terminator marines and are brutalized into the blood-soaked grass for their insolence! Double owch!!
- The kommandoz also try to stop the terminators and they do manage to kill one of them, but them the rest of the marines rip them to chunks in revenge. All of them are wiped out! This is horrible for the orks! Triple owch!!!
Tactical squads 1 and 3 move back to create some strategic depth as the land raider tank moves to cover their retreat.
Tactical squad 2 moves to support the terminators.
- The terminators charge into mob5 with all their weapons blazing. 6 of the orkz are cut down before they close, then a single terminator falls, but then vindication! All of mob5 is wiped out, their bodies tossed onto the moldering piles of xeno-trash already reaped by the valiant of the Emperor.
- The dreadnought also finishes his bloody work by ripping apart the remainder of Boss Blackgutz force.
- The snipers are not nearly as adept at close quarters combat and manage to hold even with mob 4. Two orkz die as do a pair of snipers.
Wild with religious fervor, the gretchin guarding the shrine to Mork foolishly charge into the blood-splattered terminators.
The lobba crew are ruthlessly driven to form a meat-shield between the shrine and the dreadnought by the gunz runtherd.
- The gretchin fire their rusty blastas at the terminator armor, but it's an insult to think that they did any damage. When they slam into close-combat range, they wish that they hadn't - they are thrown around like little, ugly, and fragile dolls. There are no survivors from the results of their pious assault...
- The combat between the snipers and mob4 is finally resolves at the last sniper falls, his knife killing his own murderer as he dies.
The dreadnought gladly moves to intercept the lobba crew, while the terminators secure the evil shrine to the orkish demon, Mork.
"Rig that abomonation for demolition, brothers."
"Right away, sir!"
All other space marines train their weapons on Mob 4, who foolishly crest the rock pile to stare into a thicket of widely-gaping boltgun bores...
"Duh... Oppz!?"
- The dreadnought stomps the lobba crew into the ground, taking great care to insure that not one of them survives to flee.
- The land raider uses it's heavy flamer and 3 orkz do the burny dance!
- Tactical squads 1, 2, and 3 rapid fire their boltguns and rip a series of new orifices into each of the aliens who dared to resist their well-earned eradication. The nob is the last to die, his torso a charred hole courtesy of a melta blast at point-blank range.
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