Darkmaw - The Extraction

 

The Cawdor and Orlock gangs had scoured the area looking for their respective leaders with little to no sign of them.

Both gangs had heard the Escher and Goliaths bragging about the dust up from the Parley between all of the gangs' leaders. Rumour had it that all of the leaders had given as good as they'd got but the Cawdor and Orlock leaders had failed to return.

The two gangs had put aside their differences to search the surrounding area where the gang moot had taken place. Each ganger paired off with their opposite number to ensure that no accident befell anybody should the leaders be found.

It was Ludwig the Fierce who discovered the blood trail. 

"Leave it to a Cawdor to find something in the dirt" mumbled Ironhide. 

The Cawdor Deacon rose to his feet activating his Chainaxe at the barb.

Ironhide reached for his hammer ready to meet the Cawdor head on when both were bathed in light.

Both turned their attention to the recently discovered ruin named Darkmaw. Light flooded from its mouth beckoning them to investigate.

Both reluctantly put their weapons away and followed the light to its source.

"Know what the problem is with you Redemptionists?" Said the Orlock Arms Master.

"I'm sure you're about to tell me." Replied the Cawdor.

"No sense of humour." 

His laughter echoing down the tunnel.

Darkmaw - The Darkness

 

The familiar low growl of Ripley roused the Orlock leader from his unconscious state. Slowly Red reached for his power knife as his Cyber-Mastiff snapped at something close by. The pitch black made it impossible for Red to see what danger lurked in the darkness but he trusted in Ripley's senses. His thumb stroked the activation switch of his knife as the Cyber-Mastiff's growls intensified.

Red felt a faint breeze move across his prone body and quickly activated his power knife, lashing out at the encroaching threat. His target swiftly moved out of range but not before the Orlock leader had seen his 'adversary' from his knife's glow. 

A deep raucous laugh echoed throughout the chamber as light flooded the room. Red leapt to his feet drawing his stubgun at the same time. Before him knelt a Cawdor with a wide grin upon his face illuminated by a candle . Two Cherub Servitors hovered close by each taking it in turn to swoop down and taunt his Cyber-Mastiff.

"You're alive then? Said the Cawdor with a smirk. "I wasn't sure because your damned hound wouldn't let me near." Continued the Priest. 

"He's like that." replied Red looking up at the hole that had consumed them.

"We aren't getting out that way without a power source to activate the elevator" said the priest climbing to his feet.

Red moved towards an old door that dominated the chamber keeping a wary eye on the Cawdor Priest.

"Perhaps a truce until we get out of here? inquired the Cawdor.

Red nodded his agreement before turning his full attention to the door.

"Excellent! Replied the Priest "Allow me to introduce myself" he continued "Abel Cankerson at your service."

"Coyote Red" replied the Orlock as the door opened.

The Search for Festus - Into The Sorcerers Lair

"How much longer, Mo'reau?" Asked Chiron.
The Fleshsmith, lost in his grisly work, had almost forgotten that Chiron was standing there watching his every move.
"Soon...." replied the Fleshsmith without looking up from his administrations, "....providing there are no further interruptions."
Dulcet laughter resonated from behind Chiron's faceplate, causing the Fleshsmith to look up from his gruesome task.
"Ah, forgive me, my young acolyte. I sometimes forget how enthralling the art of flesh crafting can be. Alas, my days of sculpting flesh are behind me Mo'reau, and these poor old limbs are incapable of such dexterity." Continued Chiron as he picked up an inert servitor in his mighty fist.
"Fortunately, these poor old limbs still have their uses, eh Mo'reau?" emphasising the point by crushing the hapless servitor.
"My apologies, Lord Chiron," stammered the Fleshsmith. "I forget myself when I'm immersed in my work....I meant no disrespect."
Mo'reau looked on in horror as Chiron's Multi-melta powered up. The Dreadnought's knowledge of flesh crafting was unsurpassed, but his behaviour since he had been interred was becoming more and more erratic and often proved fatal to those who displeased him.
"Continue with your work Fleshsmith. The Death Guard have come for your patient....I shall see to it personally that you receive no further interruptions!"

Storms of Judgement - The Fall of Voidspan

The bridge of the Shaft of Dominance was a hive of activity as the ship manoeuvred alongside the enormous space station. Squeals of binary code echoed around the chamber adding to the endless reports and orders being issued, creating a cacophony of noise that bordered on chaos. Captain Vane sat silently in his command throne, his attention focussed on the view screen before him. Lights flickered across the screen like fireflies on a balmy summer breeze, dancing to a tune that only he could hear. Two of the lights came together, their embrace momentarily amplifying their brightness before winking out of existence. 

The ballet continued as more of the Assault Torpedoes attempted to close with the space station. The Wolves were suffering horrendous casualties; the Corpus Mundi adding her considerable firepower to the barrage from the other side of the space station, each ship mindful of the others presence, made sure to keep the space station between them.
“And there lay the flaw”, thought Vane to himself. A blind spot that neither the Shaft of Dominance nor the Corpus Mundi, could reach. A corridor that once entered would allow the Wolves’ Assault Boats free run at the space station. Vane continued to watch as the ballet reached its climax. “There!” He said aloud as four Assault Torpedoes punched through the barrage and entered the corridor. All eyes turned to the Captain as he rose from the command throne, his gigantic armoured form throwing shadows that coiled and crept at the edges of vision.
“Open a Comm-link to Nestor and inform Lord Lustheart to expect visitors.”

Storms of Judgement - The Scourge of Voidspan

“You’re sure this scourge cannot be stopped?”
“Not from here, my Lord” replied Janus. “However, I’ve located the source and believe that the parameters can be changed to a more favourable setting.” continued the Warpsmith.
“Parameters?” Inquired Nestor.
“The Scourge operates under predefined protocols when targeting intruders. The Death Guard have locked the internal sensors to emit a wide angled beam that attacks the targets molecular structure. If we reach the coordinates that I am currently uploading to all squads, we can reset the protocol to emit a narrow angled beam. This would allow a quick-witted enough target to avoid the Scourge.”
“How long before the Scourge activates?
“Less than four cycles, my Lord.” Replied Janus.
Nestor opened a comm-link “All units, converge on me. We move out immediately.”

Storms of Judgement - Voidspan fights back

The roaring, thundering presence of the machine-spirit echoed everywhere. Janus slipped through the next layer, and its anger hit him like a tidal wave. It was hot and vibrant, a shocking terrible mass of emotion to come from a machine spirit that had been so quiet for so long. When the Warpsmith had first entered Voidspan's Machine-Spirit he had known it only as a chained storm, its power and the potential energy of its great intellect and knowledge contained in the metal shell of the station. Now it was open and raw, all of its centuries of corruption powering its fury, and its pain. Waves of pure agony hammered off it. Janus forced his mind to conceptualise the machine-spirit as it loomed up from the darkness of the space station's higher systems. The storm clouds were angry red, and they rained blood. Currents of hot, toxic pain flowed around the storm, lashing Janus with black lightning of pain as the machine-spirit raged.

“Tell me!” cried Janus. “Tell me what I must do!”

The emotion that howled on the electronic gale was not human, but it could not be mistaken. Pain, anger and malice mixed into one, battering against the Warpsmith’s mind.

The Station wanted him to die.

Janus wrenched his mind out of the space station's information systems. He snapped back into his body and turned to face Nestor.

“We must hurry my Lord. Defence protocols have re-established themselves, if we don’t reach the inner level to stop it, the outer ring will detach itself and we will be cast adrift.”

As if to emphasise the Warpsmiths point, rivets, the size of a man’s fist tore a section of panel away as the station shook violently.

“Move out!” ordered Nestor.

Storms of Judgement - Assault on Voidspan, Forcing the Breach

Nestor’s steed writhed with pleasure as the metal floor plates vibrated beneath her. Her squeals of delight added to the sound of groaning metal to create a cacophony of sound that the decadent Noise Marines revelled in.
Shock waves assailed all those in the vicinity as the Castigators’ assault torpedoes slammed into the outer bulkheads of Void Span. Klaxons immediately began bleating their monotone song accompanied by amber flashing hazard beacons as Frag launchers scoured the entry points with lethal shrapnel. The blaring noise faded to silence as the stations interior climate evaporated in a plume of gas into the still, blackness of space.

Unperturbed by the commotion, Nestor’s forces stalked silently like spectres into Void Span’s mortuary corridors, mag-locks on their armour shod feet keeping them grounded in the zero gravity. Blips on Nestor’s auspex marked numerous, as yet un-quantified targets in glowing red. Nestor knew the Death Guard would be closing quickly to seal the breach and repel the invaders for the third time.
“Nephran, take Squad Sublime along with Phobos and secure the east flank. N’kari and his children will take the centre.” Ordered Nestor. 
“As it pleases you” replied N’kari.
“Darius, you’re with me.” Continued Nestor as he smashed through the ventilation grill and entered the ducting system.

Building a Zone Mortalis Board

Hey Peeps.

Thought I'd show you how we went about building our Zone Mortalis board.

I liked the look of the Forge World board from the first moment I saw it, but I was unwilling to pay that kind of money for something that might only be used occasionally. I mentally filed it away under 'Future Projects' (I'm sure I'm not the only one who has  a 'future project' list, I have a third of a Daemon army, a third of a Space Wolves army, an old Tyranid and Tau army that are all down to future projects ;-) ) and continued my enjoyment of 5th edition tournament play.

So what changed?

6th edition came along and I realised that I no longer enjoyed 40k as a competitive tournament game. I've invested too much time in 40k and have made too many friends to simply give up on it. So I've gone back to my roots and have concentrated on the hobby side of things like modelling, painting and running campaigns with my old mate Rob.

Our campaign games took on a life of their own and it wasn't long before we started building specific pieces of terrain to enhance our games and help with the story. The Storms of Judgement Campaign moved along and it soon became apparent that we wanted a Zone Mortalis board to fight over.

This is how we set about it.....

Storms of Judgement - Assault on Voidspan

Nestor silently cursed his impetuousness.

In his haste to hunt down the Corpus Mundi, the Castigators’ Terminators had been left behind at Toil’s End. Only Shaithis, captain of the first Cohort, had one of the precious suits available. Because of this, Nestor had given him responsibility to secure a beachhead on the station.
Shaithis had addressed the War Council with his usual arrogance. His attempts at swaying the War Council to his proposals had all the finesse of a World Eater at a tea party. Whilst amusing at first, Nestor was growing tired of his rhetoric and was beginning to regret his decision to give him overall command of the assault.
Shaithis’ ramblings were interrupted by the arrival of Lucian and Janus. Nestor held a hand up and Shaithis fell silent.
“What news do you bring us Janus?”
“The space station is still invisible to our sensors my Lord. The structure defies all known configurations.” replied the Warpsmith.
“So we’ll be going in blind then. Have you awakened Deimos and Phobos from their slumber?
“I have my Lord; they are already secured on the first wave of Boarding Torpedos.”
Nestor turned to face the Chief Sorceror as he took up his customary position alongside him. “What of our allies Lucian?”
“All is ready my Lord. The ritual is complete and N’kari and his children will join the assault in the second wave.”
“Excellent!” interrupted Shaithis. “Consider the beachhead secure my Lord.” 
Shaithis turned to leave the chamber.
“Shaithis!” growled Nestor. 
Shaithis turned to face him.
“You have my permission to leave Captain…..and if you do not secure the Beachhead, then see to it that you do not return.”