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Apocalypse - 19/3/17


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#1
Brother Sefiel

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Greetings

Here is some opening background for our next Apocalypse game, to be played on Sunday. I will post up more shortly...



Prelude

 

Magnus, master of the Thousand Sons and favoured of Tzeentch frowned as he looked into the mists with a single baleful eye. The vision was fleeting – the auditory component was more memorable. He had certainly glimpsed a red-robed figure, obviously a servant of the machine god, gleaming cybernetics suggesting a centauroid form. The name was teasingly familiar. He bellowed to his servant daemons “Caul? Cowl? Cawl? Coul? Col? Who is this this fool, and why is it part of our future?”

The colourful creatures capered, cringeing as they grinned apologetically, unable to answer their overlord. “Wait,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “who is that?” In a moment the massive form of the daemon rose to its full height; the horrors about him leapt to safety as he raged.

“Bring me my armour and my blade. Gather my legion. Take message to my brethren. This. Must. Be. Stopped.”

 

Busy Times

 

Cawl was hard at work preparing for the next part of his journey. Specialised components had been installed in his latest creation, now being rolled into a large freight shuttle ready for shipping it off-world. Most of his minions were back on board his ship – he was accompanied only by a personal retinue of kataphron gunnery servitors, whose carriages had been used to test a number of his new constructions.

Of course, he would still have to finalise the payment. While his position in the Cult Mechanicus was unparalleled on this world, it would be highly inconsiderate to fail to reward the priests and seers of the Omnissiah that had so readily lent their support to him.

 

It was 12.12. His meeting with the local archmagi was scheduled to be in 52.15 standard minutes. Transport would be arriving in 3.19 minutes. The journey cross-country – well, pollutant-riddled wasteland – would take 32 minutes exactly. A brief segment of pedestrian travel, introductions, and the return, and then he would be on his way to future glories…

 


Things are not always as they seem. Your friend today is your enemy tomorrow.

#2
Captain_Krash

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Can't wait brother sounds epic. Do you have a rundown of list? Or mission being played?

 

Krash


Ad Victoriam


#3
Brother Sefiel

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Hello

It's basically going to be an attempt by Magnus' to assassinate Cawl. Victory points will be an issue if the magos doesn't die, but that's the primary criterion.

Originally there were going to be loads of really big nasty things, but superheavies/gargantuans have been limited to Magnus plus two knights v four knights. A total of 5k per side.
 

Murderous Invasion

 

The chronometer read 17.55. Cawl was surrounded by a cordon of his machine-men. They had fled the wreck of the landcrawler when the first air attacks crippled it four hours previously. Whatever had initiated the assault had brought some serious firepower, and was obviously aligned with the ruinous powers. His transport had been attacked by heldrakes, flying down from skies suddenly alight with weapon exchanges. His binaric links to the comm system had warned him only moments before – the forces of the enemy had arrived by stealth and with great speed.

 

They were currently racing through the corridors of a huge, near-abandoned, experimental facility. Most of its systems were failing, but he had accessed specifications through aetheric connections, and knew that at least some of them were sound. Cawl could hear the approaching skittering of the warp-creatures pursuing them through the passageways, but, more importantly, could feel the thrum of power and sense the machine spirits. Tapping into the systems he gradually approached the section he was looking for, the few skitarii respectfully allowing him through – and locking him in in the hope of delaying the pursuers. Cawl acknowledged their self-sacrifice with respectful binary as he passed them.

Approaching the main reactor core he ordered its guardian, an old (but not nearly as ancient as he) techpriest to prepare the rites of destruction. A reluctant affirmation received, Cawl prepared to meet the enemy in a chamber a few dozen metres ahead. Already the daemons had torn through the previous bulkhead that had been sealed to slow them. Sending his kataphrons into appropriate positions, he lowered the blast door of the chamber, commanding the mono-tasked servitor at the control console to prepare to activate. Moments later the adamantium was being struck by monstrous limbs.

He felt the core destruction sequence activate – one minute until the plasma core overloaded. Shortly after this the venerable techpriest’s signal went offline. Cawl sighed to himself, the brain responsible for his conscience regretting leading the creatures into this bunker – but if he hadn’t they would be roaming around destroying as they pleased elsewhere…

Twenty-seven seconds until detonation, and the first rends became visible. Cawl’s defenders looked on impassively as the daemonic creatures hungry for their flesh became visible, their hulking forms tearing at the ceramite with a plethora of claws. Normal men would have begun firing, panicked, at this point, but the machine-constructs felt no fear – such weaknesses were removed from their brains when they were upgraded for battle.

With fifteen seconds to go Cawl gave the order to fire. Although the vast energies of the torsion cannons would allow the attacking creatures to break in more quickly, it would be irrelevant in the long run. Several huge daemons were sent back to the warp by the energies unleashed at them – but they were numerous and without fear. Eventually they tore enough of the barricade away.

As the first daemon set foot in the chamber the servitor obeyed its orders, activating the teleporter. Cawl’s force faded from view as the reactor countdown reached zero and the entire complex was vapourised. He hoped that the chosen destination – the knight mustering station nearest to the main planetary starport – was still secure...


Things are not always as they seem. Your friend today is your enemy tomorrow.

#4
Brother Sefiel

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Wrong Place, Wrong Time

 

Tigurius sighed. They’d been brought down by shuttle just a few hours ago. His ship was putting in for resupply – but he also had an ulterior motive for being there. A certain archmagos Cawl had touched down scant minutes before him, and the Ultramarines chief librarian had reason to talk to him over certain intriguing prognostications. Now he was holed up in the expanded starport complex, trying to coordinate a desperate defence from a massive daemonic incursion. There had been no warning, no alarm, until hundreds of things from the warp simply appeared. Furthermore enemy ships had suddenly arrived, crazily near to the gravity well of the planet itself, disgorging attack craft and transports.

 

His force was small; two other members of the Librarium accompanied him, protected by honour guard. His faithful centurions raked nearby enemy ground forces, while a stalker guarded the zone from aerial combatants. Three squads of Blood Angels – with more inbound if their transport could make it through the winged horrors in the skies – were the only other marines on the world. Having said that, he could also count on no fewer than four of the planet’s knight garrison, whose emergency rally-point was conveniently nearby. Comms told him a bleak picture of how much worse other areas were suffering, although if they held the starport, there was some degree of hope…

 

...however, hope would have to wait. A large detachment of the enemy were approaching from the grey wasteland outside the city, to the east. He could count half-a-dozen rhino chassis (half were predators) and a land raider speeding in, all in the colours of Khorne. Two daemon princes leapt ahead of the transports, and there were walkers too – helbrutes, a maulerfiend and two knights of their own. A ragged mob of cultists limped behind them. Tigurius was convinced that he had the better force, but it would be a brutal encounter.

 

He also asked himself how Khornates had manipulated the warp to get there so quickly, and didn’t like the answers he was coming up with, especially since the warp felt somehow wrong at this point. He warned his fellow librarians that something big was coming. And hefted his staff, fervently hoping that the psychic powers that had served him so well in the past would hold up against the manic destructiveness of the bloody tide headed towards him.


Things are not always as they seem. Your friend today is your enemy tomorrow.

#5
Brother Sefiel

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Hello

I haven't been able to get hold of any photos of the event yet, unfortunately - hence my lack of writing recently.

Hopefully I'll get more later in the week.

I was surprised at the way the players chose to play, however - did make it a bit more interesting than I thought...


Things are not always as they seem. Your friend today is your enemy tomorrow.




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