Monday, 13 July 2015


Greetings once again vaqueros - today we continue the adventures of the Squat Heavy Industrialist's Union, as seen on such famous blogs as Leadplague and Lead or Alive.  The Industrialists made planetfall on the outlying resource planet of Cubos IV after brokering a sweet deal from the planetary governor to mine resources in a war-blasted portion of the primary continent in the southern hemisphere. Little did they think they would encounter the likes of orks in their mission to mine, but there are far worse things than orks out there in the galaxy. Prepare yourself for:


For better photos of incredibly painted Genestealers and others, go to Cult of the Four Armed Emperor.

Representative Gundark Rand of the Squat Heavy Industrialist's Union (Punitive Division) looked grim as he straightened his tie and brushed down his dress uniform. Next to him, Great Ancestor Morris Merkin picked his giant nose. The ancient squat looked like he had just rolled out of bed, with his tousled beard and tatty official robes/nightgown. The two of them were seated in Rand's own site-office, and yet he felt nervous. The Ordo Xenos were paying a house call, and they had a reputation for extremism. What did the inquisitors want with their little mining enclave? They were about to find out.

The door opened without a knock and a tall, very bald man wafted into the office. He had not a skerrick of hair on his entire head, not even an eyelash, and his outfit of pink silk and deep blue dunger wool put the word 'gaudy' through it's paces. He made quite an impression. Oh, and there was a toucan on his shoulder. A bionic toucan.

The pleasure is all his. Always.

Ancestor Morris Merkin had seen some pretty strange things in his 800 years of life. This dandy didn't impress him in the slightest. He spat on the carpet, much to Rand's dismay. "What you want then, eh?" the ancient squat growled. Rand elbowed him and attempted to rub the spit glob into the carpet with his boot, but he had trouble reaching it from his chair.

"Ignore him, haha," chuckled Rand nervously, "he's just a bit senile. Please, sit down. How can we help?" A squat is not by definition an alien in the eyes of the Imperium, but after centuries of isolation their race had developed certain ab-human traits which earnt them some amount of suspicion from inquisitorial types. It always payed to be polite, is what he was getting at.

If he was at all perturbed, the visitor gave no sign. "Gentlemen, if you please, my name is Hawthorne Braille, and this is my bionic toucan, Guinness, and we have come to you to request your aid in a matter of urgency. The Ordo Xenos needs you." Braille sat down in the proffered chair, a nice leather highback that Rand usually reserved for himself. The toucan eyed Rand with one beady black eye - the other was a gleaming red bionic implant.

The Union rep gulped. He didn't know a great deal about the inner workings of the inquisition, and didn't want to know. "If it's about the orks, we cleared them out months ago," Rand offered. Instead of replying, Braille just looked at him steadily and evenly, as if processing the information. He reached into a dossier he was holding and pulled out a shiny photographic print. 

"This surveillance image was sent to us in secret by the Adeptus Astartes. The detail is not great but it's enough to confirm our fears. There are clear signs of coven activity in this sector, and we believe this planet is central to their plans."

"The last communication we got from them was OHHH SHIIIIII-"

"Coven activity...?" Rand was puzzled.

"Yes. Those creatures you can see in the surveillance image are clearly examples of Corporaptor Hominii."

"Corporal whosis?"

"Purestrain genestealers, Representative Rand." Braille sat back in his chair and crossed his arms and legs at once in a smooth ballet of silk. "They are the first wave. They will implant the human population with their seed and begin a cycle of infestation which, if left unchecked, can penetrate to the highest levels of office. Once that happens, the planet is open to invasion from the true threat - the Tyranid Hive Fleets." On the man's shoulder, the toucan opened it's beak and croaked.

Rand couldn't suppress his gasp of astonishment. All this talk of covens and jeans meant little to him (though he did own a nice pair of jorts) but every squat knew about Tyranids. Even Morris Merkin had nothing snarky to add. 

Rand stood as tall as he could muster, which wasn't very much. "Just tell me what needs to be done."


An hour later, the motor pool of the Industrialist's HQ was abuzz with activity. Several Rhino APC's were rolling out of the vast hangars to meet with their assigned combat squads, their heavy attack trike escorts zipping between them. Gundark Rand was busy inspecting the partially assembled hull of their Land Raider battle tank. Engineer Orris was deep inside the guts of the engine, tinkering with this and that. Rand was very displeased.

"But will it RUN Orris?" he barked, tired of all the technical jargon the guildmaster was spouting. Rand knew a great deal about civilian engineering but in matters of the military, especially with these ancient patterns, he was something at a loss.

"Not on your Nellie," Orris grunted, twisting a spanner savagely and breaking off a part. "This thing is a wreck. It'll take a lot more spare parts than we have to get it back running again. It's stuffed."

"Then quit messing around in there and suit up - we're wasting time. We'll deploy without it."

Orris shrugged and threw the spanner in his toolbox and the broken part in a bin. "Pity the Predator hasn't arrived yet either," he grumbled, "this mission sounds like a damn fool idea to me."

Rand frowned, but he couldn't refute the statement. He had a bad feeling about this.


"HELL NO you are not bringing that thing in here!"

Engineer Orris had just finished donning his power armour and had returned to the motorpool to find a bunch of filthy ogryns trying to tow a beat-up old MK1 Rhino into his garage!

Ogryns: The Emperor's Thickest.

The lead ogryn stomped over to the tiny yet determined figure and picked him up by his armoured carapace with one swift move. "HEY YOU, SMALL FRY. FILL UP DIS TANK OR I BEAT YA LIKE DRUM."

Orris swore and fumbled for his laspistol. A strident voice cut through the din of the workshop.

"Put him down right now Bork! The Emperor will be very cross if you kill any of his allies, even the small ones!"

Bork, or Sergeant Bone Head Bork to use his full title, twisted his ugly face into a scowl, and leaned his face forwards towards Orris' as if he were about to try and swallow him whole. 'Bork..." the voice repeated, and the ogryn looked pained, as if he suddenly had a headache. A row of studs embedded into his thick cranium began to glow red for a few seconds. The great beast of a creature put the squat down. He stood up straight and looked at the source of the voice. It was Braille.

Engineer Orris had never seen a human as odd looking as Hawthorne Braille. The puffy pink sleeves, the bald head, the TOUCAN?!

It's a BIONIC toucan, thankyou.

"That's better Bork, good boy. Now off you go and wait outside while I talk to the nice gentleman."

Bork shuffled off, rubbing his head. Orris looked at the man incredulously. "How did you do that?"

"Psychoactive Cranial Implants. I devised them myself. Most ogryn sergeants get a chemical augment but I don't want them to be more intelligent - just obedient."

Orris shook his head, wonderingly. 

"I'm Hawthorne by the way, Hawthorne Braille of the Ordo Xenos. Be a good lad and fill that Rhino up will you? I know it doesn't look like much but they are quite fond of it. They won it off some Bloodaxe orks in a game of cards - though I suspect the orks cheated in order to get rid of the damn thing..." Braille chuckled at his little joke.

"Orks? You have dealings with them? But you're Ordo Xenos..."

"My dear boy. Aliens come in many different forms. Some of those forms are... useful. To do my job properly, I will use any tool at my disposal. Good day to you. And fill up the tank." Braille turned on his heel and marched away briskly.


Shoko, The Supreme Holy Pontiff for Life, in service to the Most Reverend Patriarch, was annoyed. He had been annoyed for several days now. Ever since they had tangled with those heretical Space Marines they had found themselves hunted, stymied in their attempts to expand, and had several key supply chains severed. They were running out of the basics - food, ammunition, and toilet paper were all drastically low (and the Patriarch was not one for rationing his bog roll, nor should He have to be). They needed supplies, any way they could get them, because once those last few precious sheets were gone, there was going to be a real stink, and that could be interpreted both figuratively and literally...

There was a low cough behind him in his vestibule. Turning, Shoko beheld David, the Bearer of the Sacred Gonfalon, their most holy icon. "Yes, David?"

"His Reverence requests your presence, O Holy One."

"Very well, I shall come at once."

The hall of the Patriarch was somewhat reduced in these confined barracks, the habitation being a result of the interference of the Adeptus Astartes. It was filled with various trophies, tributes and ornamentation - some might say it was 'cluttered' with them, but not within earshot of the Patriarch. 

The great bulk of His Reverence commanded respect. He was Adam, first of his name, and first of his kind to make planetfall here on Cubos IV. Through him, all the purestrains were linked, and time and experience had made him very powerful indeed. Few could say just how old He was, even Adam himself, for his consciousness dawned only after he and his kin had spent many decades hiding and slaying from the shadows. But he was well aware now. Intensely aware. Trouble was coming.

"Your Reverence," uttered Shoko, bowing low to his four armed Emperor. 

"Sssshoko..." hissed the Patriarch, "We must make ready the brethren. Conflict is almossssst upon us. The minionsssss of the Imperium draw close."

"More space marines my lord?" gasped Shoko. He knew better than to doubt his lord's prescience. He himself was a formidable psyker, but the Patriarch was a supreme being of enormous power and his mind was connected to all his followers intimately. He saw ALL.

"Not marinessssss. Others. Short. Hairy. And the bald one. He will be a problem. We mussssst eradicate."

"Your will be done, your Reverence."

"Ssssshoko...." the Patriarch licked his massive lips with a long ovipostor, "Once you have defeated them and the field is ourssssss.... don't forget to check for toilet paper. I'm down to the lasssssst few squares."

Shoko gulped and turned on his heel. They had to make haste.


Gundark Rand checked the readouts in his armoured carapace as he joined the assembled task force on the tarmac. The lads were nervous, and so was he. Tyranids. Here?

Ancestor Merkin stood by him in his own armour. The two watched as Hawthorne Braille walked over the tarmac towards them, an antique force sword fashioned after a duelling blade rattled in a scabbard at his hip. There was an old but functional channeling hood over his head which would help focus the psychic energy through a cable and into the blade, similar to how Merkin's force rod functioned (though his used the much more advanced psy-fi tech and required no wires). He stood to attention before them a threw a crisp salute, which Rand returned, but Merkin did not. The ancient ancestor frowned at the human psyker. 

"That blade looks even older than me," growled Merkin.

Hawthorne smiled distantly, and tried to pierce the old dwarf's mind with his own. There was a very solid block there. Merkin chuckled. "Trying to read my mind? Don't bother, I've got a hood on."

"I see no hood?" Hawthorne looked puzzled, which made Merkin chuckle more. The old squat tapped his head. "Sub-dermal implant, runs off of my own body's energy. Never needs recharging. Never fails."

Hawthorne smiled once again. "As always, squat technology never fails to impress. I'll be riding with you in the command APC. I hope that won't be a problem?" 

Merkin grunted. "I'll take the other one..."


They made good progress across the rolling green countryside. The area had been decimated by war decades ago, but the foliage had returned to shroud all the craters and disguise most of the ruins. It would have been a nice drive, if it weren't for the sick feeling in his gut.

Hawthorne had been glued to the command console for most of the trip, his eyes roving over various reports. He had triangulated a position on the map as the nexus of genestealer activity, a network of abandoned bunkers with a number of topside fortifications guarding the entrances. It was towards one of these bunkers they were headed.

"Your ogryns are an interesting choice of bodyguard for a man of your... refined tastes?" Rand offered by way of smalltalk. Hawthorne didn't look away from the screens, but replied: "Being psychic has it's advantages, but also, disadvantages. Reading minds can be tiresome, as you can never really turn the power 'off'. Every random thought and emotion fills the air like constant, unending chatter."

Rand nodded sympathetically.

"Ogryns are not blessed with great minds to match their great bodies. They are simple, and think of little save their next meal. Keep them well fed and they basically think about nothing. Empty heads equal peace and quiet."

"I see. I guess they make an ideal choice then."

"Indeed." Hawthorne turned to look at Rand for a moment. "Also I saw one tear off a man's legs once because he made a joke about the Emperor. Their mindless devotion makes them easy to manipulate, and their brute strength and reputation is a marvelous tool in certain circumstances. They get the job done." The psyker turned back to his screens, and Rand waited out the trip in silence.


"We're here," Hawthorne announced. "Tell your troops to get ready."
In the distance, over a small shallow river runoff, a fortification lay dormant and dark.
The squats unhitched the support weapons from the APCs and began the priming sequences. The small squad of heavy weapon specialists headed for the cover of some woods, while another warrior squad occupied a similar position nearby, one of their number hauling a compact autocannon into the scrub. The APC's ground to a halt as their sensor arrays scanned for lifeforms, their escort trikes staying out of sight behind them. The ogryn tank belched black plumes of smoke into the fresh afternoon air as it's long suffering engine struggled to idle. All seemed relatively quiet.

They see ogryns rollin', they hatin'...

The ref calls a penalty on the mole mortar spotter for straying too far from his support weapon.
There is nothing innately suspicious about groups of hairy men skulking around dense woodland bearing large, phallic objects.

"Too quiet," frowned Hawthorne. Something is blocking our sensor arrays. I feel a powerful psychic presence here, maybe one, maybe two magus. Unless..." the man frowned and scanned his readouts again.

"Standby," Rand spoke into his commlink in response to the chatter. Orris and Merkin appeared to be having an argument about the built-in coffee machine over in the other APC. 

"If my readings are correct, then..." Hawthorne looked up at Rand, his eyes hard. "I'm reclassifying this mission immediately. We are no longer conducting a search sweep. There is a powerful enemy psyker in that compound, and we must eradicate it at all costs."

"We're not prepared for a full-scale assault," Rand said in consternation. "We need heavier support! If that bunker has even partially adequate defences we're going to bounce right off them! The cost will be too high!"

"If we leave now they will disappear. We may never have so good a chance as this. I can't do this without you." Hawthorne's toucan squawked for emphasis.

"I've got a real bad feeling about this..."


THE SQUATS: commanded by Captain Crooks
Mission: Witchhunt
*Warlord Gundark Rand - carapace armour, plasma pistol, master crafted boltpistol, conversion field, bionic arm
*Battle Standard Andre - carapace armour, laspistol
*Medic Noomis - carapace armour, chainsword
*Hearthguard Bofor - carapace armour, plasma gun and plasma pistol
*Ancestor Lord Morris Merkin - carapace armour, force rod, Psychic hood, laspistol, bionic leg
*Engineer Guildmaster Orris - power armour, power axe, laspistol and displacer field
*Primaris Psyker Lord Hawthorne Braille - Force sword, bionic toucan.

*Attack Squad #1 - 3 chainswords, power glove
*Attack Squad #2 - boltpistols, axes and a flamer
*Thunderer Squad - 2 heavy plasma guns, 2 heavy bolters, autocannon
*Warrior Squad #1 - 4 bolters, plasma gun
*Warrior Squad #2 - 4 bolters, autocannon
*Ogryn squad with Ripper guns

*3 Heavy Attack Trikes - vehicle cards
*Thudd Gun & 2 Crew
*Mole Mortar & 2 Crew
*3 Rhino APC's

The Right Honorable, Most Reverend Patriarch, Guiding Light of the 41st Millenium, Adam, 1st of his name, forthwith referred to as RHMRPGL41kAdam1

THE GENESTEALER COVEN: commanded by Archaeopteryx
Mission: Guerilla war
*The Right Honorable, Most Reverend Patriarch, Guiding Light of the 41st Millenium, Adam, 1st of his name (Genestealer Patriarch) -  Claws, Chitinous armour, SR1, Psyker lvl 4
*Supreme Holy Pontiff for Life, Shoko 
(Magus)- Flak armour, Displacer field, Psychic hood, Force Rod, Laspistol, SR1, Psyker lvl 4
*Sublime Herald and Bearer of the Sacred Gonfalon, David
(Icon Bearer) - Mesh armour, Autogun, Laspistol, Sword, Icon

*Genestealer brood (6) - Claws, Chitinous armour
*Genestealer brood (6) - Claws, Chitinous armour
*Genestealer brood (6) - Claws, Chitinous armour
*Hybrid brood (8) Mesh armour, Autogun, laspistol, Sword, Missile launcher, Autocannon, Conversion beamer
*Brood brothers (10) Flak armour, Lasgun, Sword, lascannon
*Brood brothers (10) Flak armour, Lasgun, Sword, lascannon
*Brood brothers (10) Flak armour, Lasgun, Sword, autocannon
*Beastmen (10) Axe, Primitive armour, primitive shield
Rhino x 2
Leman Russ battle tank - Heavy Bolter x 2, Lascannon, Battlecannon


In the distance, the air shimmered, and tiny figures began emerging from various fox holes and hiding places, making for a line of makeshift barricades set up along the river.

"They are coming!" barked Gundark Rand into his commlink, "prepare for contact."

Hawthorne closed his eyes and concentrated. "It's definitely coven, I feel their presence. Multiple purestrains. I can hear their psychic communications."

"What are they saying?"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Tyranid."

Pool day was always popular in the Coven. Last one in is a rotten egg!

Once you have genestealers in your garden it's really hard to eradicate them. You need potent insecticides like napalm and nukes.

"The sensors are picking up activity everywhere! The woods are crawling with them!" Rand was not panicky by nature, but no squat likes a Tyranid.
"Remain calm, it is imperative that the purestrains not make it to our lines - they have claws that can tear through a tank and if they make contact, there is the risk of impregnation."

Gundark Rand swallowed hard and gave his orders into the comms.

The Thin Purple Line guard the entrance to the bunker. 

The Spanish Civil War called, they want their limousine back.

Like all good villains, this one stayed well out of sight, almost as if he knew his destruction was the enemy objective, like, through some kind of mind-reading ability.
"There's something else too - readings indicate two modified civilian vehicles, and what appears to be... a tank. They have a tank! Do we have a visual?"

There was a burst of static, and then:

"Leman Russ pattern battle tank confirmed. Shit."


The genestealers won the initiative and got first turn. They made a general advance, the purestrains running as fast as they could through forest and field to close with the enemy and rend them with their fearsome claws.

It's a little known fact that Genestealers have a crippling grass allergy and have to carry a sizeable disk of sheet metal everywhere they go.

The Limousines advanced steadily before the one on their left flank deposited a unit of 10 beastmen, who had never see the inside of a vehicle before and were now worshiping it as some weird, benevolent mother-goddess, rebirthing them into the ripe, green world. 
Later they were found sacrificing dandelions to their benevolent car-mother.

The Leman Russ tank accompanied the beastmen over the river, it's weapon's crew already scanning for targets. The hybrids hunkered on the bunker, while the brood brothers on foot ran up to the barricades along the river to take cover from the inevitable squat heavy weapon onslaught.

 On their right flank, two units of purestrains flanked another limo as it also forded the river, it's occupant brood brothers crammed in tighter than an atomic wedgie.

  The hail of fire began with the bolters on the left flank limo attempting to thin out the squats hiding out in the forest, but the trees proved too thick to penetrate with such small calibre shot - so the Leman Russ stepped up, hosing the woods with high powered explosive rounds, killing three of the squat Thunderers and sending the other two scampering deep into the undergrowth to hide, thoroughly broken. It followed up with a lascannon shot to the front of the ogryn rhino, but the high energy beam was unable to penetrate the scarred slab of armour, causing much jeering from the giant oafs within. 
  Greatly incensed by this, the Leman Russ crew sent a massive battlecannon shell whizzing into the squat support weapon battery, destroying the Thudd gun and it's crew in a titanic explosion that also claimed the life of the mole mortar spotter.

"-oh, you already met..."

  Up on the bunker, the hybrids launched a krak missile at the leftmost Rhino but it glanced right off the tough transport. They followed up with a shot from the unpredictable but deadly conversion beamer - the shot was wide but still managed to disintegrate a large portion of the vehicle's right track assembly, causing it to swerve violently, out of control! Incidentally it also vaporized three of the squats from the warrior squad hiding in a leafy copse - they held their nerve and their position. The Hybrids sent one last volley from their autocannon at the mole mortar but the shots went wide... for now.

 In the psychic phase Shoko the Magus used the power of Displacement to transport the unit of purestrains on their left flank into some bushes, closing the gap between them and the tattered squat flank. Hawthorne Braille focused his mind-beams on the advancing limo, using the power of Assail to disrupt it's crew and send it careening out of control!
  The Patriarch stirred and opened up a channel to his purestrain children, attempting to use the Catalyst power to augment them into even more devastating killing machines, but it was blocked by the upstarts and their interfering ways. The mind-duelling ground to a close but the battle had just begun...

The intercom was awash with chatter from various points across the battlefield. The large WHUMP of a shell detonation had rocked the APC and several squads had taken critical hits. Then the gruff voice of Ancestor Merkin came barking through the speaker: "They hit our bloody tracks, damn tank is outta control. Don't make 'em like they used to, curse the thing!"

Rand looked up at Hawthorne. "The right flank is falling apart, can't you do anything?"

Hawthorne looked up distractedly from his data screens. "What? Fine, give me a minute." He closed his eyes and concentrated...

Brother Hoke hunched over the wheel of the ornate armoured limo, a telltale light on the dashboard blinking to tell him to check the oil, which was annoying because he had filled it up yesterday but Brother Coburn had been sneaking around the garage yesterday and he just knew that he must have siphoned some off for the other limo, and-

With a violent jolt brother Hoke was thrown up and out of his driver's seat by some powerful, unseen force, and dragged back into the now empty transport compartment where he was beaten up and down against the roof and floor like a ragdoll, until he was finally released, flopping into a bruised heap. The limo, driverless, began to wobble and swerve uncontrollably...

Back in the Rhino, Hawthorne opened his eyes again. "How was that? Did the car blow up?" he asked.

"It sort of swerved a bit..."

"Yes. That's what I meant it to do. *ahem* Good."

TURN ONE: Squats

The Rhinos advanced together, two of them in an orderly, controlled method, the one on the right flank speeding out of control into the mob of beastmen.

We brake for rainbows. But not beastmen. Never beastmen.
The nimble mutants dodged out of the way, and as the smoking vehicle came to rest, the hatches and doors flew open and disgorged a very cranky living Ancestor and his retinue of squat warriors. Last to leave was guildmaster Orris, who tutted at the damage to the track and was already mentally going through the steps to repair it - for now though, the APC was stuffed. The squats attempted to arrange themselves in such a way as to avoid the oncoming, out-of-control limo that had been all shook up by Hawthorne just now - and prepared to be assaulted from all sides at once!

It's 7 Squats vs a whole flank of nasty. Hardly seems fair for the coven.
Autocannon shots fired from the remains of the warrior squad hidden in the trees manage to bring down two of the advancing purestrains, but the rest of the beasts kept right on running - panic was not in their vocabulary (they mostly talk in hissing, clicking sounds). Two of the trikes managed to flub their multi-melta shots, one failing to fire completely and the other missing an entire limousine and hitting two genestealers instead. The third shot landed squarely on the Leman Russ, microwaving the driver and the crew manning the battlecannon and the right hand side heavy bolter, leaving the vehicle an immobile turret in the middle of the river.

"I'd like to order one battle tank with extra cheese. Extra-extra!"

The limo driver's contract stipulates that every 10 meters he has to jump over a blazing inferno while electric guitars play.
Ancestor Merkin and his squad opened fire at the beastmen in front of them with bolters, lasguns and plasma fire, killing two of the brutes. The Rhinos all fired their storm bolters at them too, but didn't make much of an impression. The crew of the command Rhino added the weight of their fire to the slaughter, killing two more, and the Rhino full of ogryns popped a number of hatches as the short-ranged but deadly Ripper Guns were brought to bear. A total of 16 shots from the massive, durable weapons were fired without a single jam on any of them. The storm of fire ripped another two beastmen to ribbons, leaving just four of the original ten remaining - but the beastmen held their ground!

Beastmen kebabs coming up!
The remaining mole mortar operator sent an explosive shell whizzing through the soil of the battlefield, where it popped up amongst the Brood brothers at the base of the bunker with an uninspiring popping sound - the round appeared to be a dud though, because it went off with a fizzle and failed to cause a single wound.

Ancestor Morris Merkin looked across the river at the Brothers behind the barricade and spotted a trooper wielding a heavy lascannon. He reached out with his potent old mind and attempted to manipulate the will of the man, urging him to take up his lascannon and fire it at the Leman Russ - but a powerful mental force blocked his connection!
 The Patriarch, summoning a massive amount of psychic power, cast the Catalyst on the purestrains once again, this time using ULTIMATE FORCE. The creatures buzzed with newfound energy as their natural killing ability and defences were increased dramatically. 
  Ancestor Merkin raised his wizened arm and pointed at the distant brood brothers behind their barricade - this time a massive bubble of force sprang up around them, trapping them in a prison of energy!

"You just got DOME'D!"
In response the Magus, Shoko, once again Displaced the unit of purestrains - this time their distance moved allowed them to charge into the unit led by Ancestor Merkin! The surprise attack left the squats stunned - all except the living ancestor, who just spat into his palms and unlimbered his force rod...

When 800 yrs old you reach, you've seen to much to be surprised by a bunch of four-armed aliens appearing from thin air to impregnate you.
In an attempt to silence the stricken Leman Russ, Hawthorne attempted the classic 'Machine Curse' trick, but found that all of a sudden the plug had been pulled on all the psychic energy in the area - the Magus had used ENERGY DRAIN and the phase was abruptly over... all the remaining psychic effects including the force dome and the Catalyst power were instantly nullified...

The hairs on Ancestor Merkin's neck rose as he felt the power of a dangerous mind unfurling. Something was about to happen - the shape of the power was becoming known to him.

"Brace yerselves laddies... it's showtime!" His force-rod crackled with psychic energy as he pulled it from it's sheath, ready to deal some death.

Orris looked around, confused. There were enemies all around them, but none were upon them just yet. 

"What is it Ancestor? What are you-"

With a sudden popping sound, reality opened for a split second, and alien horror poured out. A foul tide of purestrain genestealers fell out of nothingness and were all over the squats like puke on a blanket. Morris Merkin bellowed a wordless challenge to the horrible creatures as several of his bodyguard loudly shit their pants...

The wrath of the Coven had been unleashed!


The out of control limousine ramped across the river and ploughed into the gathered squats and purestrains who were now locked in furious combat - distracted by the alien threat, one poor space dwarf disappeared under the ornate vehicle, blasted apart by the strong hoverjets.

"Didja see that guy? He came outta nowhere!"
 Meanwhile, the horde of genestealers on the right Coven flank swarmed through the ruins and leapt upon the heavy plated sides of the Command Rhino, intent to rend it apart and get to the squishy beings inside. At the entrance to the ruins, the wheeled limo screeched to a halt and disgorged it's contents of brood brothers like clowns ejecting from a clown-car. They took up firing positions to cover the purestrain advance.

This party ain't over 'till everyone is pregnant.
When Brother Archimedes lets one rip he can empty a car in 0.35 seconds.

A more motley crew has not been gathered since that band formed, you know, that one?
 The out of control limousine was pulled back into line by it's battered crew, and circled around the Ancestor Lord and his retinue, cutting off any potential retreat and looking for a target for it's stormbolter armament. It sees one of the squat trikes and fires a burst at it that pings of the lightly armoured sides without harming it.

A beam of high energy light once again lanced out of the stricken Leman Russ' lascannon. The heavy laser hit the ogryn Rhino squarely on it's front armour a second time, burning right through the battered and worn ceramite plates. For a long moment, nothing happened. The ogryns leaning out of every hatch chuckled at the apparently wasted shot, looking to one another and jeering again at the blown out Leman Russ. Then the Rhino engine detonated with a huge fireball that threw shrapnel and chunks of the large humanoids all over. The blazing vehicle careened out of control, and those on board that weren't instantly killed were doomed to burn alive as the potent promethean fuel ignited and turned the APC into a big rolling funeral pyre. The ogryns were toast...

The brood brothers behind the river barricades lit up the squat's right flank with laser fire, killing one of the two remaining warriors from the squad that had been previously converted into explosive matter. The last squaddie kept his beard down but his spirits up, and didn't break.

Some more heavy weapons fire came towards the two remaining  Rhinos, but nothing was able to achieve penetration (much like the majority of my sexual encounters).

The purestrains came at Ancestor Merkin like spider monkeys, all limbs and screeching. The first one to step up traded blows with the old squat almost faster than the eye could follow, and neither was able to harm the other. The second lashed out many times, but each was parried by the ancient one, who could see where the creature was going to strike before it even knew itself. At the last moment, Merkin rammed his rod through the creature's skull, killing it with a solid dose of blunt force trauma (much like the majority of my sexual encounters). A third tried it's luck but was once again unable to get through Merkin's guard, resulting in another drawn combat. Heartened by the old squat's combat prowess, a young squat in his retinue stepped up to have a go at one of the chitinous fiends and was totally shredded for his effort. Bad move kid.

"Pssst... dude... I think there's something behind you..."
 Leaping and chittering in their strange proto-language, the mob of purestrains attacking the command Rhino tore and gouged through plates of solid ceramite, looking for any weakness. One of them managed to jam steely claws into the track mechanism, severing the links and sending the vehicle lurching out of control!

The psychic phase saw Magus Shoko displacing the unoccupied unit of genestealers into an outriding heavy trike, a power which couldn't be nullified by the squat side.

The biggest problem with riding a bike is getting all those bugs up in your grill.
  Ancestor Merkin, stuck in a mortal combat with the genestealers as he was, attempted to seek out a weak mind to Dominate, but was blocked by the psychic might of the Coven. Hawthorne Braille, worried about their prospects once their APC eventually ground to a halt, tried to open up a psychic Gate to let them Benny Hill the F*$% out of there, but he too was denied by the hivemind of the Coven.

Things were looking grim for the Squat forces...

The command Rhino's intercom was blaring with scattered reports, screams and the sound of las-fire, adding to the klaxon alarms going off all over now that their drive systems had been crippled. Rand held onto his harness restraint grimly as Braille sprawled across the bank of instruments, the lurching progress of their wounded transport making it difficult to do much more. Braille had been cursing like a sailor with a stubbed toe ever since he had witnessed the demise of his prized ogryns in glorious technicolour on his viewscreen, and his anger was causing little lights to fly around the compartment. The toucan on his shoulder looked unruffled, strangely.

"Rand, we are LEAVING!" yelled Braille, and the squat general nodded. "Prepare to disembark, everyone, assholes and elbows! I'm opening up a psychic gate to get us over the river. I need to get closer!"

Hawthorne Braille closed his eyes and concentrated on a point somewhere ahead of where the APC was currently careening. If he could just time it right, they could... they could...


A voice, powerful and ancient, filled his head.


"You're not the boss of me!" though Braille back, as hard as he could. But his gate failed to materialise. The mental block facing him was too strong. A deep, ominous chuckle inside his skull sent chills up and down his spine.


TURN TWO: Squats

The burning Rhino full of BBQ ogryn finished it's last great ride by plunging into the river with a huge bubbling hiss, the promethean flames slowly guttering in the scorched wreck. Nothing moved within.

The attempt to spell the phrase 'Livin' la vida loca'  using tanks was stymied when they ran out of tanks... after the first 'L'.
 The command Rhino, also out of control, slewed across the field and skidded to a halt in front of the similarly disabled Leman Russ, and the two tanks sat there and steamed at each other.

"Soooooo this is awkward..."
Gundark Rand and Hawthorne Braille exited the command Rhino, followed by their retinue, including their medic, standard bearer, hearthguard, and Smooth Stenbore, who seemed to have gotten into the wrong Rhino and was now experiencing regrets.

"FORWARDS MEN! Erm... I mean dwarves."
 Splashing across the river, they made it to the relative cover of the barricades, but found themselves facing down a large group of Brood Brothers, one of whom was packing a heavy stubber...

"Sure mate, you go first, we're right behind you... yep."
The greatly reduced Thunderer squad sent a ball of plasma hurling across the river into the barricade brood boys, incinerating three of them in the heat of a small sun. Some autocannon fire from the last remaining warrior on the right flank rattled off the Coven limo in front of him, but it had no discernible effect.

Plasma Volleyball proved to be an unpopular sport.
 The mole mortar managed to knock off one purestrain genestealer that had strayed too close, and the middle trike, despite managing to score a miss, still scattered it's multi-melta template onto two nearby purestrains, evaporating them with an angry hiss.

In combat, the trike that had been displaced upon by purestrains ploughed through the alien monstrosities, the driver pulled shrieking from his saddle and torn to pieces. The gunner managed to pull a knife from his boot and drive it into the neck of a hissing 'stealer, killing it, before he too was overwhelmed and the trike flipped, coming to rest in a tangled heap.

Ancestor Merkin's embattled group fought off the hissing genestealers that were slowly surrounding them, the ancient one blocking and striking, sweat pouring down his ruddy cheeks. He fought one to a standstill, then beat the next one to a stinking pulp, it's chitin crunching with the repeated impact of his rod. A third rose up behind him, slashing at him and cleaving through his carapace, wounding his tough old hide. One of the squats in his retinue flung himself forward, intent to draw attention away from Merkin, and was cut down swiftly.
Engineer Orris came to grips with one of the supernaturally fast aliens, his power axe hewing left and right, but the creature was faster. It's claws struck home, but Orris' personal displacement field activated a split second ahead, teleporting him several yards away onto the top of the immobilised Rhino. The creature stood, confused, as his prey vanished into thin air...

"Yoo hoo! Pretty boy! Over here!"
The psychic phase began with Braille unleashing the power of the Carmine Assassin on Magus Shoko, who failed to nullify it and suffered a wound. In retaliation, the Patriarch unleashed the power of the psychic scream, and that is when Hawthorne Braille played his risky gambit...


Hunkering down in the rusted barricades near the bunker entrance, Rand, Braille and their small retinue waited while las-bolts and stubber fire whizzed and whined around them.

"What are we waiting for, Braille?" shouted Rand over the din of battle

"A sign..." muttered the psyker, his eyes shut, his overlarge brain seemingly pulsating. His toucan croaked and flapped a little to steady herself as a small explosion showered them in grit. Then...

"THERE!" cried Braille. In the minds of all on the battlefield, a terrible psychic scream began to build up, growing in intensity. Several of the squats put their hands to their ears, but it was pointless, the sound was inside their heads.

"I know... where he is..." grunted Braille. "...Come.... Guinness..."

The two of them, the man and the bird, entered a trance-like state. Rand didn't dare touch them.


Hawthorne Braille found himself (or a mental representation of himself) in the darkness of an endless nothing. There were no walls, nor even a floor. It was just... nothing. Guinness the toucan, present in some sort of psychic spirit-form, cawed softly.

Except there was a throne. Had it been there just now? Impossible to say. It was there now. And on it was Adam, First of his Name, The Guiding Light of the 41st Millennium. There also seemed to be a floor now, maybe even the impression of walls. 'Good,' thought Braille, 'that's good, give it form...'

"Ssss.... foolish insssects. Why have you come here?" the deep, sonorous, hissing voice of Adam filled the nothing, filled Braille's mind. He could feel the creature's mind probing his, seeking to find answers, seeking to find weakness.

"So, this is what? Some sort of warp-bubble where you store your consciousness? That's a neat trick..." commented Braille, almost jovially. "Must come in handy for evading unwanted... encounters." The human narrowed his eyes at the great beast. "So... what are ya gonna do, fatty?"

Adam's eyes widened and he roared. Lurching up from his chair, he sent bolts of pure crystallised psychic power hurtling at the upstart human.

"Oh crap..." gasped Braille as he dodged aside, and Guinness the toucan took flight, beating her ethereal wings in the non-air, fluttering out of harm's way.

"Ressssistance isss futile..." hissed Adam, eyeing the human as he struggled back to his feet. "Thisss planet isss oursss. We will rule from now until-"

"Until when? Until the hive fleet comes to consume it, and you as well?"

"What? What nonssssenssse are you sssspouting? What is thissss hive fleet of which you ssspeak?" Adam settled back into his throne warily. He could kill the human at any time, but for now, he would toy with him like the rodent he was.

"Hah, you don't even know do you?" Braille laughed a little breathlessly. His eyes scanned briefly to see where Guinness had gotten to. 'Come on girl,' he thought, 'I can't stall him much longer...'

"Human, your insssolence shall not be tolerated. I will end you, and all your kind. All Humansss will be asssssimilated. There will exissst only the brood."

"Brood? More like food. Your kind exists for one purpose alone, and that is to pave the way for the real monsters... you are nothing to them. You will die, a feast for their lowliest spawn."

Adam stood his full height, his arms raised in fury. In his claws a long spear of hard light appeared, solidified by pure mind energy. He raised it high and aimed it at Hawthorne's heart.

"ENOUGH!" screamed the patriarch.


Above them, Guinness screeched, her bionic eye blazing with a beam of blue energy that lanced down and sliced through the immaterial wall behind Adam. The darkness bulged and burst like an overripe fruit, tearing swiftly as if helped by unseen hands. Adam turned, the human and his pet forgotten as he witnessed the bubble of his safe-haven collapsing about him.

"Time to go girl!" yelled Braille, and he and the toucan fled down a tunnel of solidifying thought that billowed into being around them.

Adam howled, and leapt from his throne, intent to follow, but he was grabbed from behind by small, needling fingers. He swatted at them in a rage, but three more took a grip. Struggling forward, the patriarch pulled at his assailants, but every step was hindered by more and more hands pulling, tugging, wrenching at his armoured body, digging into muscle, tendon, seeking his flesh, his bones, his soul...

The tunnel closed up behind Braille and Guinness as their consciousness returned to their physical bodies. Braille opened his eyes and blinked. Adam was gone.

With one fell swoop, the squats had completed their primary objective, with the patriarch succumbing to a demonic attack. Ancestor Merkin attempted another mental domination, but couldn't get to grips with the corrupted minds of the brood brothers. Magus Shoko's attempts to cast Hellfire were nullified, and Ancestor Merkin, frustrated with everything in general, unleashed the Hammer of  Fury with ULTIMATE FORCE, destroying a genestealer and sending the hover limo out of control once again.


The coven had lost it's leader, but Magus Shoko still maintained the psychic presence needed to maintain the army's command structure. The few remaining beastmen charged a trike, supported by the last surviving purestrain from one of the two units on the right flank.

Two more purestrains ran towards the pesky mole mortar, determined to end it. The brood brothers who had disembarked at the entrance of the ruins heeded their master's call for aid and abandoned their position, running back towards the river.

As she attempted to open fire on the interlopers, the brood sister with an autocannon managed to jam her weapon, effectively taking it out of the game. A storm of frag missile and conversion beamer fire into Rand and Braille's unit saw medic Noomis and hearthguard Bofor killed, and Braille himself suffering a wound. The brood brothers in the unit in front of the squat command opened fire with autoguns, felling hearthguard Bludd, but failing to kill Lambast, who made a lucky flak armour save. 

The stricken Leman Russ tried to blast one of the remaining trikes with it's lascannon but missed. Instead it hosed it down with heavy bolter fire, causing it to fly out of control and flip, crashing into the immobile Rhino.

That's going to leave a mark on the polish.
The remaining shooting came from the brood brothers behind the river barricades - a barrage of las-fire forced the squat guildmaster to displace once again, but failed to wound him.

In the combat phase, one of the purestrains managed to score another wound on the Ancestor lord, who now had one remaining. Filled with righteous fury at the mistreatment of his venerable living ancestor, a squat warrior stepped forth and smote the creature down, ending it's heinous life. Ancestor Merkin, filled with foaming bloodrage, looked about him for more enemies to slay and found one worthy of his challenge - the heavily armoured hover limo. With an incoherent howl the old squat used his consolidation move to charge the limo, which had very slowly crashed into the woods at the start of the turn thanks to Merkin's Hammer of Fury.

 The beastmen and purestrain made short work of the last trike, pulling it's crew out and hoof-stomping them to death.

Mustering his mental energies, Magus Shoko summoned the power of Hellfire once again, and the squats were unable to nullify it. Braille took another wound, leaving him with two, as he tried to beat the flames out of his expensive cape.
Merkin attempted once again to Dominate the lascannon trooper over the river, and this time it wasn't nullified, but the attempt still failed. Shoko then displaced the genestealer that had just finished eating the trike - he appeared right on top of Orris, who would  have nightmares about monsters apparating around him for years, if he managed to survive this...

The Ancestor Lord attempted a Psychic Duel with Shoko, but was unable to best him, and lost his Force Dome psychic power as penance.
Finally, Braille used his powers to cast a Machine Curse on the Leman Russ, disabling it's weapon systems.


With a stirring cry, Rand and Braille lead their much diminished but very brave crew into the heart of the enemy unit, charging forwards into combat. At the back of the battlefield, the surviving squat warriors consolidate back into the woods to make themselves less of a target.

The mole mortar sent a deadly round whizzing through the topsoil, but when it burst amongst the remaining beastmen, it failed to wound any. The Rhino stormbolter also failed to make an impression on the hairy beasts. The single squat armed with his autocannon managed to damage the stormbolter on the coven limo currently under duress from Ancestor Merkin, meaning it would have to roll a 4+ to function from now on.

The inconvenienced Rhino need not have worried about it's turret though, as Merkin took his force-rod and punched several neat holes into it's armour, busted a fuel line, then proceeded to explode it  forcefully, all the while screaming at it (he rolled a triple 6 for the result. Kaboom!). The vehicle hurtled into the woods, burning fiercely, out of control once again.

It's hard to get a cab in this town. The squats keep smashing them.

The recently Displaced genestealer attacked engineer Orris, and his displacer field was unable to stop him getting wounded this time.
Braille and Rand cut a swathe through the brood brothers; Rand shooting them down with his pistols, Braille skewering them with the white-hot tip of his force-sword with swift, efficient stabs and jabs. The squat armed with a powerfist took out another, while Smooth Stenbore struggled to keep up the pace and didn't quite make it into combat...

The heroes consolidated forwards, keen to bring the fight to Shoko, who stood at the end of that alleyway of death, gathering his strength for the final offensive.

This is either a serious battle, or a serious music video in the making.
In the psychic phase, Shoko displaced the beastmen into the woods to deal with the last of the Thunderers lurking there. Merkin tried to Dominate once again but had his power nullified, then tried to use the Hammer of Fury once again, but that was nullified too. He muttered something about being too old for this shit...

'Rumble in the Pine Trees' doesn't quite have the same ring to it...


The coven used their last turn in an all-out assault on all the outlying elements of the squat forces. The remaining couple of purestrains leapt onto the mole mortar and prepared to end it's menace. The beastmen in the woods sized up the squat heavy weapons specialists and got ready to do what they do best.

This is unlikely to end well.
 The as-yet unsullied brood brothers splashed their way down the river, realising all too late that they wouldn't be able to make much of a difference in this fight.

You're all winners just for participating!
 The out of control limo flew into the woods and exploded, killing one of the beastmen. Ancestor Merkin was also caught in the blast, but it failed to wound the tough old squat.

Ancestor Merkin solves part of the beastman problem by throwing burning cars at it...
A storm of las-fire came pouring over the river towards Merkin, their only properly visible target. The lascannon missed entirely, but the hail of smaller shots was impossible to dodge...

Ancestor Morris Merkin was tired - dog tired. His armour was rent in several places from the purestrain attack, and his beard was badly singed from having a car explode in his face. His knees hurt, he had a headache from all the psychic energy being tossed about, and he had missed afternoon teatime. He was getting testy.

Having run out of enemies on this side of the river, he turned his attention to the soldiers hunkering down behind the makeshift barricades over the river.


A powerful blast of laser energy fizzed by, followed by a loud crack. The lascannon shot had missed him.


The riverbank lit up with twinkling bolts of lasgun fire, as blast after blast hit the old squat, and he fell backwards onto the smoking green grass, letting darkness overcome him at last...

In the combat phase, the mole mortar crewman was predictably eviscerated by the purestrains. In the forest, the beastmen took a wound from the heavy plasma gunner, before cutting down the autocannon guy.
The genestealer that had appeared above engineer Orris managed to hit him three times, but the displacer field once again preserved the lucky squat's last remaining wound - he teleported behind the creature, and prepared to charge it one final time!

"I'm seriously getting tired of your shit, squat..."
Rand, Braille and their elite team continued killing their way through the brood brothers to get to Shoko, killing another five between them, Braille scoring 14 hits on his hapless opponent, turning him into a human colander. They were left facing down just two more devoted bretheren, with their secondary goal of killing Shoko tantalisingly close...

The Magus sneered at the bloodied and battered heroes and waved his staff at them, calling upon the power of Lightning Arc using ULTIMATE FORCE...

Shoko sneered at the rag-tag band that were fighting their way towards him, slaughtering bretheren left and right. The human psyker, the squat commander, their standard bearer and several of their warriors halted their advance, two remaining brood brothers squaring off against them warily.
"What chance do you think you have, you stupid worms?" Shoko cried out. "You think you are so clever, but you have not even witnessed the true extent of our power, our influence. And you never will! Your journey ends here!"
With white force crackling in his eyes, Shoko reached out with clawed fingers and a hideous bolt of psychic lightning arced out and struck brave Lambast, killing him where he stood, his body smoking horribly from every orifice. The lightning bolt jumped from his lifeless body and struck Smooth Stenbore, causing him to scream as he fried to death. Hawthorne grabbed Rand's arm and tried haul him back. 

"Look out!" screamed Andre the standard bearer, as he ran forward. As the lightning arc jumped towards him, he stuck the standard into the ground with force, the electricity striking the staff and earthing safely in the ground - he had saved them!

Braille reached out with the Assail power to try and drag Shoko into charging range, but the wily magus nullified it. He then used the power of Displacement on himself, fleeing away behind the bunker complex, out of reach.
Thinking quickly, Braille used the Carmine Assassin power once again, but Shoko used the Destroy Power card to not only nullify, but erase the ability from Braille's mind. 
Finally Shoko played Energy Drain, ending the phase and preventing Braille from using the Gate power, their last chance to catch the Magus and stop his evil.


On the last turn of the game, Engineer Orris charged his purestrain adversary again in a final bid to end the horrible creature. 

The two immobile Rhinos used their storm bolters to lay down some cover fire upon the large mob of approaching brood brothers, felling one of them.

The melee in the pine forest between the beastmen and the Thunderers ground to a halt with neither side causing any wounds. The purestrain scored another three hits on Orris, and one last time his displacer field came through for him, teleporting him away from harm.

Braille and Rand easily dispatched the last two brood brothers in the unit, leaving them to face the ominous sight of David, the Icon Bearer, holding aloft the Sacred Gonfalon in the light of the setting sun.

"You shall not pass. That's literally what this banner says."

In the last psychic phase, a Carmine assassin from Braille fails to end Shoko. Finally, out of frustration, the Psyker of the Ordo Xenos used his Assail power to fling the Coven magus off of the battlefield, breaking the synapse link with the remaining forces, and causing them to withdraw. The Squats held the field and had completed their main objective of removing the patriarch, but the cost in lives had been great, and the Coven had managed to make off with a lot of equipment, which was their primary goal. Worse, the evil Shoko had managed to escape, and who knows what he will do next...?

"I'll get you next time, shortasses!"
Rand surveyed the scene of carnage around them. The coven forces had all withdrawn, and had been seen looting corpses as they fled. Smoking wreckages lay burning on the once pleasant fields, and all around lay the bodies of their kindred.

Braille sheathed his force-sword and looked at Rand grimly. "You did well today, but this fight is far from over. I'll be departing shortly, but you'll be seeing me again." Guinness the toucan flapped her wings and croaked her agreement. Her bionic eye seemed to wink in the dying light.

The man gave one last salute before he trudged off to the ruins of the ogryn Rhino, though goodness knows why he would want to inspect that mess. You could smell the burning ogryn from here...

Rand turned at the sound of Andre's voice. "Sir, come here quickly!"

Rand hurried over to where Andre was stooped over the body of Smooth Stenbore.

"Poor Smooth..." muttered Rand. It had been a horrible way to go, fried by that electric bolt.

"That's just it sir - this isn't Smooth!"


"Look sir, see?" Andre peeled back the blackened goggles of the dead squat. "This isn't Smooth, it's someone else. A close resemblance... maybe a cousin or brother?"

"Well i'll be damned..." murmured Rand. Where the hell was Smooth?


MASSIVE THANKS to Count von Bruno for taking all the in-game oics and all the notes for the battle, and also to Archaeopteryx for being a splendid opponent. Cheers fellas!


  1. Bravo, sir. Bravo. Just what our conflicted community needed right now - a top shelf battle report! Well done that man!

    1. This report was intended to heal the world, but I'll settle for our community at a pinch. Thanks for reading!

  2. Pure awesome - battle reporting of the highest calibre!

    1. It was designed by the most skilled squat mechanics, turned on the finest of literary lathes and fired out of the cannon of community spirit to explode your guts with good times.

  3. You will soon receive the bill from my doctor for the many ribs broken due to extreme laughter.

    1. I'd refer you to my medic but SPOILER ALERT he dies. Sorry mec.

  4. That was excellent dude! Took me right back =)
    Nice Weird Al reference there too!

    1. Ha, thanks! I'm glad you got the reference. *ahem* just to clarify, erm... which bit was the Weird Al reference? I mean obviously I know, haha, I wrote it after all but... which bit? :s

    2. Haha! No worries dude - I don't know why this stuff gets stuck in my head. Under the first photo you quote a line weird Al lifted for his song 'White and nerdy' - the bit about rollin and hatin' =)

      Again, great bat rep - and cool figures!

  5. A truly brilliant battle report, perhaps even better than opening a 1990s White Dwarf to read a 2nd edition 40K report -- Bravo!!!


    1. Praise doesn't get much higher than that. The next battle won't be for a while due to BOYL15 etc but when it lands it's going to knock your socks off ;) That's a promise!

    2. I can wait... looking forward to it :)

      Also, forgot to say, every time I play 2nd edition, I always drive up transport vehicles (from where they were deployed in cover, of course), and dismount the troops ASAP. Too much chance of a total deathtrap leaving them in there for me as happened to the poor Ogryns in this game.


    3. It's not the first time I've lost a bunch of good abhumans to the Rhino deathtrap. They are surprisingly durable up to the point they explode horribly... :s

  6. On my way out the door, saw this and realised that I'll need to sit for bit to digest all it's batrep glory!

    Will do :)

    1. I genuinely hope it's worth the effort :D Let me know what you think!

    2. Just finished reading this awesome "batrep". Actually, it's too well written and lengthy to be considered a mere battle report. It's more like a "short story", a bloody good one!!! On par with the best that WD ever produced, hands down!

      Great job Crooksy :)

  7. Oh man, you really knocked it out of the park with your write up Crooksie- what a read.

    1. I couldn't have done it without your copious notes and brilliant photos buddy :) wait did I remember to credit you??

    2. The Count seeks no credit dude.
      Seriously though, great work...very early-mid 90's White Dwarf.

  8. I had to arrange my timetable around reading this, but it was worth it. That made me laugh numerous times.
    I was rooting for Smooth even before I found out that he un-died.

    Quality output Captain, never change baby!

    1. I never change. I've been wearing the same underpants for 10 yrs. Ripe.

  9. Oh, man. Best. report. Ever. :D
    Made me laugh; seriously, great battle!!

    1. Thanks, you're pretty suber-duper yourself, mwa-ha!

  10. so glad I stumbled across this! So many cinematic moments in true old skool style. Very inspiring!

    1. Good to see you here mate! Thanks for reading, there may be a Deathrace report coming up, though it's been covered on about 12 blogs already from every concievable angle so maybe I'll just compile a list of links, kinda like the blogging equivalent of a 'greatest hits' album... ;)

  11. I came upon this by chance and found it extremely funny I will be following for sure.

    1. Thanks for stopping by! I think I've seen you post on CvB and Asslessman's blogs, which marks you as a person of good taste and discretion - but don't worry, you'll still fit in here, hyuk hyuk ;)

  12. An excellent report!

    I am aghast at the genies' relative failure to kill stumpies in close combat though; the coven needs to be doing fewer bake sales and more claw-sharpening!

  13. The only thing in a squat army capable of holding back a genestealer assault is the Living Ancestor - he is a tiny ball of overpowered rage and beard that can take on pretty much anything. The other squats died if they so much as looked at a purestrain, those things are brutal :s

  14. This party ain't over 'till everyone is pregnant.

    I almost chocked!