FtW Bloggers Group

Friday, February 8, 2019

Kill Team Narrative Campaign: The Raid

Carl sat in front of the reader savant, going though the pict capture stream from his duty helmet frame by frame. Suddenly he stopped and leaned forward to get a better look at the imagery. He zoomed in on the image of a cultist carrying an autorifle. There! A short search of records later and his suspicions had been confirmed-these were military grade rifles that had been provided to the PDF. This particular one was not in a lot that had been reported as stolen. He traced that shipment back to the armory it was allegedly delivered to. That armory was only a deci-block from where the ambush had taken place. "Got you heretic bastards," he thought as he grabbed up the records and printouts and walk swiftly and with purpose (Carl did not run unless exercising or under fire) to the Proctor's office.

In the long-since infiltrated PDF armory, Melkir Skorn walked nervously around the planning chamber. Could the Arbites who had laid Ghaskin low track them here? He could not be sure. "Double the watch and keep fresh eyes on the Arbites sub-precinct," he barked to the nearest Neophyte. He would not let the trust Ghaskin had placed in him be squandered to complacency.

The Repressor tanks idled loudly as the ten men climbed aboard. Servo skull conducting recon flights at the target site had reported back with imagery of what was clearly cultists going in and out of the site. The men inside conducted a final review of their gear as the machines chewed a path down the claustrophobic streets towards their target. Piles of rubbish and homeless shanties were crushed or tossed aside by the powerful machines.

Meanwhile, on the rooftops, semi-human eyes watched the procession head towards its inevitable goal. A handheld vox and a code phrase was spoken. "Unscheduled Worship".

The Repressors slewed to a stop and the hatches opened up. The driver, Trooper Rosko P. Koltrane looked on with envy as the rushed out; listening in on the vox is the closest he would get to this action. With well-rehearsed precision the men lined up for breaching operations. The com experted keyed in the proper sequence and the front door opened. Stun grenades were tossed in and flashed. Through the smoke the men rushed to find the entrance chamber empty....

From the side a door opened and cultists rushed forward. Somewhere around the corner another door opened and out poured more cultists. From an underground tunnel erupted Groust Seifer, one of the heralds of the ascension and the cells chosen son to deal with the more heavily armed non-believers. An Arbites who had proceeded too far into the room tried to get a shot off at him but he lept.

Grounst charged the closest Arbites and injured him but the human was neither down nor out. His cousin Jethrim rushed forward and tore into the trooper in front of him.
Carl opened up on a cultist but surprisingly failed to connect.


The judge rushed forward to take out Groust

But was quickly cut down. Grounst turned to his companion who, seeing that discretion was the better part of valor, ran away leaving Groust in the open. From around the corner the aberrant, Kallliak charged Carl, his Power Pick cutting him down-Ghaskin was avenged!

The Arbites opened fire on Groust, cutting him down. The cultist had lost their most potent weapon against armored troops. All around the the room the troopers shots rang true.

The Arbites shots were coming home and cultist blood was splattered everywhere. Somehow the beasts kept moving but it was clear that this mission was all but over.

In the Repressor, Rosko's heart raced as the troops calls came in, reporting cultists down. He looked forward to walking the scene afterwards and reconstructing it in his head. This would be one for the textbooks.

And then it all changed. The mining laser hit home, cutting down one trooper. Gillan Sond with his flamer, finally lined up a trooper and blazed away. An autogun finally penetrated a chink in a troopers armor.

Rosko hear the confident reports turn into screams of trooper down. Their leader was down. Carl was down. Panic set in. It was going to be a slaughter. Desperation filled Rosko and suddenly the only realistic option occurred to him. He gunned the Repressor and rammed into the building, blow a hole in the side. He trigger the smoke dispensers into the hole. The shock of it seemed to rally the shaken Arbites and they quickly started falling back towards the hole as the Repressor backed up. Soldiers dragged the wounded, spraying wild shots to keep the cultists' heads down.

Confused and stunned, Melkir tried to rally his men but there was too much smoke and dust in the air. The building rumbled as the train of Repressors sped away. Cautiously he walked over to Groust and pushed the body with his boot. It hissed the moaned. Good. It would not do to lose such a favored son. The heathens had been repulsed but their stronhold had been discovered. It was time to do what his people did best; drift away into the hidden places.

Author's Note: This was written closer to the event but I still probably lost some detail in passing. We used the Rogue Trade rules and board and they were a blast. With the next installment we will be jacking up the points further and maybe including Commanders. After that, it may be time to graduate to small 40K games. I also got to use some terrain I've had for years and have been dying to use in an actual game. Ryan to his credit worked his butt off getting his Arbites ready for both games so proud of his hustle.

Saturday, February 2, 2019

Kill Team Narrative Campaign: Search and Rescue

Favra heard movement all around him. He did his best to control his breath despite pain shooting through him. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. He knew he was being hunted, but by whom?
Ghaskin clenched the vox handset and spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't care who you send! Send them now! This failure will not go unpunished!" Little did the cultist on the other end know that Ghaskin was referring to himself. He would, however, be more than willing to share in his failure.

The door slammed open and in rushed the surviving members of the Arbites patrol sent to investigate the generatorum. Mac looked at scribner Jessen and Louk. "You two-come with me." They looked at each other confused. "NOW!" he screamed. The flinched then shot up and followed him. Rabbit came in dragging adept Gajen from motor pool where he had been conducting layman approved maintenance on the Rhino. Behind them walked Osiren, the senior laymen of the two. It was still out of commission until a tech priest could be called in. He leg go of the lad and walked over to a weapons locker, keying in the sacred release canticle on the pad. It opened revealing some laspistols. He thrust them into the hands of three young men. He also found a flamer. Excellent.

"Not enough," Carl declared and walked into the back room. In the holding cell were two men. One was large, half dressed with bulging muscles. He sat on his bunk, arms crossed looking angry. The other was bearded with a knit hat and heavier weight clothes. This one was distinctly hung over. Carl was pretty sure that one, if not both, were deathmarked. He didn't care. He kicked the cage with his steel toed boot quickly getting their attention. "Here's the deal," he said.

Rabbit waved impatiently for the newly deputized men to go. Louk, paused, "One moment!" he said and reached into his desk. He pulled out his treasured combat knife. Today was going to be the best day ever!

Both groups spilled into the buildings next to the generatorum. The area was a series of abandoned habs ruins with some ancient munitorum containers rusting away. Ghaskin scrambled up on top of the high ruins in the middle to better direct the search. His men were spreading out to his left and right when he movement caught his eye. The Arbites were back! This was his chance at redemption.

Jiock shook his buzzing head to clear it and cursed his luck. He creeped up the left flank with the overeager Vox scribe Louk in tow. The kid sprinted past him to a container where this downed arbites might be hiding.

On the right flank, Scribner Jessen nervously moved next to Fabius. He hoped the larger man with his lasrifle would draw fire. Rabbit sprinted past them to investigate a space between two crates.

Carl held back and let the two laymen, Osiren with his flamer, and Gajen, shakily holding the laspistol, move forward to a corner in the ruins where an Arbites might hide. Right behind them was Mac. Stood next to a large pile of trash and scanned the scene. Sure enough he caught a flash of movement!

Groust with his inhuman speed rushed forward and into the face of Mac who was unable to react. Behind him a cultist ran into the ruins, beating Gajen and Osiren.

The cultist with the heavy stubber opened fire on Rabbit. The shots went wide and he shot back, missing. However, the cultist with a flamer opened up, the pile of barrels offering him no protection and the flames surrounded him.

On the other side, two cultists with rifle traded shots with Louk but the lad was unscathed. Gajen snapped a shot at the cultist in the building in front of him but missed. Osiren attempted to bathe the heretic in flame but his miner armor protected him although it was clear it had been wounded. The fiend returned fire, injuring the young man but he was still fighting. Another cultist with an autogun hit Osiren. The round dug into his unarmored flesh and he too was injured not down.

Mac was not as lucky-the acid maw of the genestealer tore through his armor and he was down. The creature sprinted towards Carl.

Carl, looked to his right and suddenly there was Favra! Carl was about to greet his teammage when a purple blur of claws tackled Favra. The arbites got a shot off, striking the foul thing but its unnatural armor protected it!

The cultist Jessen shot at rushed him! He tried to got a shot off but missed.

The cultist with the flamer moved forward cautiously. Seeing what the flamer had done to a more armored foe, Jessen and Fabius shifted back but still traded shots while dodging heavy stubber fire.

Ghaskin moved forward along the roof top. He knew the man with the flamer would try to take him out so he fought fire with fire and opened up with his hand flamer. The flames met flesh and the man was down. Truly the Star Gods were with him!

Louk, filled with the righteous glory of the God Emperor's will climbed on top of the munitorum container. A cultist was shooting at him from a ruined balcony and Jiock yelled for him to take cover while trading fire with another cultist armed with an autogun. Louk ignored him as his attention was drawn to the multi-armed thing on top of the ruins that had just flamed his friend, well, valued co-worker! He lined up his pistol and took the shot.

Ghaskin screamed out in pain as the las round hit him in the gut. Slipping in his own blood he fell and lost consciousness. The cultists' leader was down!

Enraged, Groust tore into Arbites that had escaped him previously and the man's armor was not sufficient protection for the acid he spat forth. A second Arbites was down. Two to go.

Meanwhile, Gajen and the cultist flailed at each other. Jessen screamed, "Not the face!" as the cultist, distracted by his leader's seeming demise was unable to connect.

Carl, seeing what happened to Favra shifted back and the genestealer fell short.

Louk, starting looking over to the xenos filth rushing the Arbites and decided there was more glory there. Jiock, moved back towards the corner for his own reasons.

Fabian and Jessen both took wounds and one after another succomed to panic as the cultists closed in.

The cutist facing Gajen shot him with his pistol, laying him low. Meanwhile, the cultist with the mining laser, lining up the device, spotted Jiock through a narrow break in the ruins. It was an almost impossible shot but he fired-striking the man center mass and killing him!

Carl looked around and saw that the young scribe with the really big knife was the only other man standing. The pragmatist, he knew there was no turning this around. Someone had to get work back. It was going to be him. He grabbed the young man by the scruff of the neck and tossed a frag grenade into the open to distract the others and fled.

Ghasken awakened to pain. The medico standing over him looked him up and down once, admiring his own work then backed off, bowing to an unseen figure.

From the shadows the Magus stepped forth. Fear clenched Ghasken's stomach but the Magus smiled. "You have redeemed yourself. All but one of the Arbites has been captured or killed. Even now their leader is being inducted into our numbers. Rest."

Author's Note: The second of our narrative Kill Team campaing and it was a blast. I must apologize for the lousy picures. Being new to using this phone to post pictures I did not realize that iPhone's stupid Live feature would jack it up so badly. I have found out how to disable it so I'm hoping the next game's pictures turn out better. Again, I am putting this battle report together several days after the fact so events may have changed to fit my memory. Young Louk, however, did in fact take out the leader with his pistol. I am wondering if we will be seeing more of the lad.

Kill Team Narrative Campaign: Ambush at the Generatorium

Ghaskin Tarnright prostrated himself before the Magus in appropriate supplication to the chosen son of the Star Gods, "You ss-ummoned my masster?'
The Magus bid him rise, "I have a task for you. So far our attempts to induct members of the Arbites to our family have been...rebuffed. The hour of Ascension draws nearer day by day. Although we are not ready yet to rise up, more direct action must be taken. This is what I command of you..."

Ghaskin listened intently for to fail was to fail the gods themselves.

Precinct Sub-Fortress 12. 440 District. 1532 hours.

Communications Scribe Louk scribbled furiously with his autoquil as the voice on the other end of the autofone described perfidity against the holy law of the Imperium. Someone had entered a remote confession booth to report a crime.

"Okay, the generator station you said? Tonight at 2200? Okay. Do you know how many? Can I get your name? Okay mister 'Goody Naybor' I'll pass that on to the judges and thank you for your service to the Emperor.

Normally the booth would lock them in for further questioning but this one seemed to have malfunctioned. He made a note at the end of his report. Saboteurs! The thought simultaneously filled him with disgust and excitement. Family legend stated his great great great great great great x10 grandfather had been one of the Astra Militarum guardsmen that had settled this planet after purging it of foul xenos. In his desk he kept his prized family heirloom, said to be the actual issue knife his father carried.
He opened his drawer and gazed at it longingly, dreaming of plunging it into the heart of a mutant or heretic or jaywalker or something. Alas, as a lowly com-scribe, the tenth in his family line, such glories were not for him. He sighed, then closed the drawer and rushed down the hall to the watch captain.

Generator Station 0143Sigma. 440 District. 2248 hours.

Proctor Arcot "Thorny" Ramathorn surveyed the scene in front of him. The Generatorum hummed as it powered the the hive sector around it. It abutted against retainment wall structure 457 and was surrounded on three other sides but typical burnt out hive sprawl buildings. His men had approached tactically with professionalism he was sure rivaled the Astartes, if such giants of legend were indeed real. Sure enough, they found the body of a tech adept that had been recently murdered with signs of a struggle. They moved in and began sweeping the structure. Oddly there were no other signs of struggle.

Trooper Marcius "Mac" Womack swept the upper deck with his shot gun finally clearing the area where the power stack met the retainment wall. Nothing. He looked over to his tac partner, Robute "Rabbit" Roto. Roto covered Mac's rear sector, barrel going where his head faced. Mac to detect a slight wheeze to Roto's breathing. He suspected his partner had been hitting the corpse starch donuts a little to heavily recently but had not felt like it was an issue before now.

A voice broke the tense silence on their vox beads. "Nothing over here," reported Rodus "Rod" Favre. "You see anything Carl?"

Carle was Carl Foster. Carl had no nickname. Troopers got nicknames for funny things about their names or stupid things they had done. Carl was neither funny nor, within memory of anyone at the sub-precinct, had ever done anything stupid. Ice ran through his veins.

"Negative. Not liking this. Wait-movement on the permimeter!"

A stab of fear shot into Proctor Ramathorn as he raised his bolt pistol to the ready. He had led his men into a trap!

Shots rang out from the burnt out bell tower across the street.

The mining laser and heavy machine gun opened up on Favra, wounding him slightly.

"Breakout!" Thorny screamed into the the com bead and his men, with reflexes born of years of training knew what to do. This had all the hallmarks of an ambush and as even the ancients had know, the only way out of an ambush was to push through it. He dove off the top of the genratorum and snaped off a shot at his would-be murderers.

Rabbit and Womack also scrambled off the roof and ran for the plasma conduits for cover. Not ideal, but the best they could do under the circumstances. Mac made it furthest but Roto struggled to reach cover. One of the attackers, looked to Thorny like he was wearing mining gear, ran forward with a flame thrower. Flames bathed him but his army stood firm; he just took a minor injury. He was hurt, but still in action. Farva fired off a frag grenade at the source of fire on top of the building across the street. He couldn't tell if the shot was effective or not.

Carl, as emotionless as a servitor, lept off of the building and with contemptuous ease, blew away the ganger that had been shooting at him from behind some old crates. As the scum fell to the ground, Carl noted his weapon was a military grade autorifle. He filed the detail away for further reference.

Farva took a cue from Carl and lept off of the geratorium and sprinted for the plasma pipes in front of him Another stream of coherent light from the mining laser struck him and he tumbled to the ground. Dazed, he groaned from the pain of the impact. He was out of the fight but his instincts took over and he crawled towards a pile of trash near by. If he could not find cover, he would find concealment and hopefully not bleed out in the process.

Thorny charged the ganger with the flamer and miraculously charged through unharmed. "The Emperor Protects", he thought as he prepared to bring justice to this hive scum with his shock maul. Absently he noted that there did not seem to be many of these gangers around which was odd. This was far too few a number to ambush an arbites patrol with. Only the bravest, or most drug fueled pack try to pull this off. Of the perps he had seen so far, those did not seem to be much in display. His maul made short work of the the flamer bearer. Justice. Served. Behind the building in front of him, something lurked.

Ghaskin could feel the battle slipping away! Only one of the arbites was down-he needed more. It was time to step in personally.

With the power of an enraged grox Carl smashed into the ground floor of the building in front of him. All he had to do was make it out the other side and across the alley and he would be home free. He heard the footsteps of the gangers above him moving around.

Thorny sprinted towards the cover of the balcony of the building in front of him. Here he should be safe from the fire coming from overhead. Mac and Rabbit sprinted ahead, offering ineffectual shots at the forms on the rooftop above them. In the back of his min Thorny was still trying to figure out what was behind this attack when his questions were answered. Groust Seifer, fifth son of the fifth son, harbinger of the Ascension and purestrain genstealer erputed forth, his claws shredding the Proctor's armor. Simultaneously, Ghaskin charged into Mac in a flury of blades and claws. Not looking behind, Rabbit sprinted past these things and to safety. Mac successfully dodged the abomination and with centimeters to spare, ducked past it to safety.

Ghaskin howled in frustration. Although the Proctor, no small prize, lay at Groust's feet three of the arbites had outright escaped. Of the fourth, there was no sign. He would have to report his failure to the Magus.

Trailing blood and panting, Favra crawled down a side alley. He wasn't safe, not by a long shot. He had, despite being injured, gotten a good look at what had attacked them. This was no gang trying to prove itself. This was something much, much worse. He activated his emergency salvation beacon and with the limited assets he had, laid low and tended to his wounds.

Author's notes: First, apologies for the images. This crap about taking short movies rather than actual pictures needs to end. Hopefully it does not affect your view of the battle too much. The description does probably differ from actual events due to time passed and for dramatic effect but is still close enough. The battle was fought using Kill Team rules with the Arbites being counts-as Astra Militarum with some minor changes in weapons and load outs. As narrative games go it was a blast to play and we have already fought the sequel. Report to follow. We are still debating if we want it to take place on Vigilus as is the all the rage or our own setting.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

The Photopocalypse and Recovery

I have succeeded in saving my Photobucket images and will eventually backfill the old posts, starting with the ones that people actually looked at more than once.

Until then, lets do a quick recap of what I have been up to so far.

Year of the Bug is finally started (or ripped out of the chest of the host to take our an entire crew in less than 24 hours). All of the assembled and primed models are painted. I have a couple of squads of acolytes to do but I have something special in mind with them which will blend them in with my existing AM forces.

Still getting used to using Google so I humbly request your patience while I get this all figured out.

Until then-happy painting.

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Thank You Photobucket (Sarcasm)

I fully understand their need to make money-clearly being a free hosting service has not worked for them.

I would have been happy to pay a reasonable price for third party hosting but $400 is off the charts.

The blog will be temporarily on hold until I can shift to an alternate source and get things moving again. Which is unfortunate as I have been really busy recently.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

The Rotting Underbelly

Second to last mix of old and new are the familiars; odd creatures that congregate around the cult's psykers.

 photo 648726DD-7F74-4369-9AA9-52D277B83CFB_zpsewm3ndg3.jpg

The Aberrant are a strange mix of sickly and powerful, mutant and evolution. Even the cult which takes all comers lookes upon them with disdain. However that does not stop then from forcing them to do hard labor by day and as shock troops when the cult rises up.

 photo 970B7D92-C9EB-4C01-A8F6-AFAF689B4E98_zpswvmlykhj.jpg

The Favored Sons are the grunts of the cult. They fill all tiers of the settlement, seemingly hard workers who toil away for the good of the settlement.

 photo 92D70551-1771-48B7-BB0D-368DE74322D3_zps3ldcqnuq.jpg

Friday, June 16, 2017

The Cult Rises

I have at last started work on my Genestealer Cult. Technically this is the second cult I've owned. Though not my original figures, the first group dates back to this era.

This first group is a mix of the original lead (!) cultists, some plastic bodies I traded Ryan for, and leftover arms from a long gone project that looked suitable exotic on this figures.

I call these the Deplorables. They are scum of the cult. They live in the ash wastes and on the lowest levels of the hive. They are the eyes and ears amongst the lowest levels of Imperial society.

 photo 3F5451A7-6103-45DD-BB93-4555F044987B_zpsvajbjgd2.jpg

These figures are the first born. They are made from the original plastic hybrids. I did, however, decide that the original heads were just too derpy so I swapped them out with some leftover purestrain heads from the literally dozens I have sitting unassembled. With the Deplorables, these are a mix of old and new bits to include some easily recognizable parts and some that have not seen production in at least a decade, maybe two.

 photo 5D233D90-AD99-4E24-9946-F2AEBF4D8613_zpsrjs8mvi5.jpg

Next up will be the familiars which will be a mix of old and new as well, then on to the new figures.