There Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked

So, I’m off to Warhammer World again with a traitor Imperial Guard list. It’s the same list as before as I am already running late and wanted to get my army list completely written up with the fluff and all the extra bits. The army list is the same, but the fluff extract is quite obviously different. May seem rushed because… Well, it is. I need to be on my way as I’m expected at Warhammer World in a matter of minutes!

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Sorceress Ezarine let out a soft groan as she slumped against the wall, lho-stick burning slowly between her lips. She had been tasked to take care of the clean-up of the area, though she had not had time to rest since the battle. She peered over the battlements, watching the warband getting organised and prepared to hunt down the remaining Tyranid presence.

She sighed and turned back, facing the rear of the bunker and exhaling a large cloud of smoke. She could still feel the presence of the Hive Mind, but at that moment she did not want to think about it, which was tough as she felt the constant whispers in her mind.

“I hate battlefields,” she murmured, inhaling once more through the lho-stick, “it’s dirty and lacks basic comforts.” Her micro-bead beeped with life. She considered disconnecting it, though she did not want to think about what would happen should Tyllanius find out that she shirked on her duties. Reluctantly, she pressed it into life.

“Sorceress, we’ve identified a large force of Tyranids in the nearby area; it’s far larger than our original projections,” came a voice over the micro-bead. She pressed a hand to her forehead wearily.

“And? Burn them out. You have your orders from our benefactors, so take care of them!” she replied, her voice harsh and intolerant.

“We would, Sorceress, though there is another alien force nearby. Our groups have already been ambushed by battlesuits that appeared out of nowhere,” the voice responded, the tone shaky and hesitant.

“Are you such a coward? Do your job and gain the favour of the Dark Gods!” she answered, shaking her head and standing up, lho-stick between her fingers.

“I-… Yes, Sorceress. Proce-” The voice was interrupted by what sounded like a hail of gunfire.

“Hey. Hey! Are you still there?” she asked. No response. The feed went dead. She let out an aggravated groan, activating her micro-bead once more as she switched frequency.

“Command. Take up defensive positions again. More wish to test our devotion to the Dark Gods this day.” She turned to see the Chaos Space Marines returning as well; she assumed that they had run into the same problems that her forward groups had.

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1800pts Traitor Deredian Warband

HQ

Cult Command – 70pts

Company Command Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Regimental Standard – 15pts

Sorceress Ezarine – 70pts

Primaris Psyker – 70pts

Elites

Troops

Heavy Platoon – 560pts

Heavy Command – 50pts

Platoon Command Squad – 30pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad One – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Two – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Three – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Four – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Five – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

The Rain – 60pts

Heavy Weapons Squad – 60pts

Mortar – 0pts

Mortar – 0pts

Mortar – 0pts

Destruction – 75pts

Heavy Support Squad – 60pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Forward Platoon – 265pts

Forward Command – 35pts

Platoon Command Squad – 30pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Forward Squad One – 60pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Flamer – 5pts

Forward Squad Two – 60pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Flamer – 5pts

Forward Squad Three – 60pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Flamer – 5pts

Doomgivers – 50pts

Special Weapons Squad – 35pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Cult’s Eyes – 115pts

Veteran Squad – 70pts

Forward Sentries – 30pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Fast Attack

Ruin – 40pts

Scout Sentinel – 35pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Heavy Reconnaissance – 40pts

Scout Sentinel – 35pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Storm – 40pts

Scout Sentinel – 35pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Heavy Support

Corrupted Sentry Battery One – 30pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Corrupted Sentry Battery Two – 30pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Corrupted Sentry Battery Three – 30pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Crimson Conquerors Warband

HQ

Sorceror Tyllanius – 140pts

Sorceror – 60pts

Mastery Level +1 – 25pts

Mastery Level +1 – 25pts

Mark of Slaanesh – 15pts

Spell familiar – 15pts

Elites

Troops

Slaves to Sensation – 145pts

Chaos Space Marine Squad – 75pts

+3 Chaos Space Marines – 39pts

Mark of Slaanesh – 16pts

Plasma gun – 15pts

Fast Attack

Heavy Support

Fortifications

Firestorm Redoubt – 230pts

Wall of Martyrs Firestorm Redoubt – 200pts

Quad Icarus lascannons – 0pts

Quad Icarus lascannons – 0pts

Magos Machine Spirit – 30pts

Grand Total – 1795pts

Traitors Clash with the Hive Mind

The traitor Imperial Guard took up forward positions within the ruins of the city. They had taken the time through the night to take up positions near the Tyranid positions under the cover of dark. Ezarine smiled as she made her way to one of the forward positions, climbing to the top of one of the ruins to meet one of the infantry squads. She peered over the edge to see soldiers of the Iron Warriors legion lined up behind a defensive barricade. She had already seen the majority of the Iron Warriors warband alongside the Crimson Conquerors on the other side of the battlefield, though they had deployed a small section near her position. She shivered, either due to cold or fear of the encroaching creatures.

“Sorceress, mortar and autocannon squads report Chaos Space Marines on their position. With their help, we should be able to hold our position,” the vox-operator relayed to Ezarine.

“Excellent. Our exalted allies have said that they will head down the other flank. We are to hold our position he-” she replied, though she was quickly cut off by the sound of skittering and the explusion of bio-weapons.

“Incoming!” she heard a scream from the Chaos lines. Heightened senses were an incredibly useful asset.

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So, we did all of our rolling. My Warlord got the warlord trait on the strategic table that enabled me to choose if night fighting would be in effect. Considering the Tyranids all had shrouded anyway from the Venomthropes, we chose to have night fighting in effect, an odd choice for Imperial Guard and shooty Chaos Space Marines against Tyranids. We won the roll off for first turn, but decided to go second. They deployed their entire army behind an Aegis Defence Line with a Tyranid Prime manning the quad gun. All of their monstrous creatures deployed on one side, so we answered by placing the Obliterators and a lot of Chaos units on the same flank. The Guardsmen deployed at the front of our deployment zone, every single squad taking cover in ruins, with the heavy weapons and Havocs setting up in the bunker (we had a firestorm redoubt to counter air units) and the Company Command Squad deployed with one infantry squad in a forest behind the ruin where the Iron Warriors set up behind their Aegis. Four of the Tarantula Sentry Guns set up near the bunker with the other two setting up next to the Iron Warriors on the Guardsmen’s flank. The Heldrake, a single Chaos Space Marine unit and the three Scout Sentinels stayed in reserve. The Iron Warrior Chaos Lord rolled a gift of mutation and gained +1 Strength, and the Raptor Aspiring Champion rolled one and gained Shrouded. So a Raptor unit with a Chaos Lord at Strength 7 and with a 2+ cover save in ruins. A great combination as we found out in the game.

The game was Crusade and the deployment type was Vanguard Strike. We dumped one objective by the Firestorm Redoubt and one by the forward position. The Tyranids placed one of their objectives way out of the way in the opposite corner and placed one in a more central location. Our game plan was to camp our objectives, score first blood, gain linebreaker with outflankers and the Iron Warrior Heldrake and perhaps get slay the warlord with huge amounts of heavy weapons fire or the Iron Warriors Chaos Lord in close combat.

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The Guardsmen dived behind broken walls and trees, seeking refuge from the Tyranid bombardment. Bio-acid splattered against walls, small projectile creatures impacted with trees and ricocheted off. When the volley had ended, a handful of Guardsmen had died across the battlefield, though for the most part, they were untouched.

“Men, return fire. Focus on thinning the faster ones!” came the orders over the vox from the command squad. Ezarine smiled, shrouding her position even further with psychic illusions. The Chaos Space Marines seemed to go about their own business, Iron Warriors moving up the flank under cover of their Obliterators. The Crimson Conquerors followed them up cautiously as lascannons tore into the night, impacting with walls and monstrous creatures alike, a tirade of bullets accompanying the lasers and felling one Carnifex beast through the night. The traitorous humans opened fire, missiles and grenades launching into the night, heavy bolters chattering into the encroaching horde and massed las fire impacting with the wave that advanced. The death throes of Tyranid beasts was music to Ezarine’s ears.

“Sir, there’s an odd cloud emanating in the darkness,” the sergeant of the far infantry squad, situated near to the Iron Warriors position, relayed down to the junior officer on the floor below. He paused for a moment, looking down at his laspistol.

“Fire a krak missile at the source. We need to bring the creature down,” he replied, gesturing out into the night.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant responded, turning to the missile team. “You two, krak missile into the cloud of gas over there. I want you to punch one right down the centre,” he ordered, pointing at the cloud. The team loaded one into the missile launcher, aimed towards the cloud and fired. There was a loud whoosh as the missile flew through the air and a muffled explosion as it impacted with something. The Guardsmen looked on in anticipation. As the echo of the explosion died out, the cloud started to dissipate and the Guardsmen caught sight of the creatures coming towards them. There was still a lot of work to do, but fortunately, they had plenty of ammo.

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First turn went well for us. The Tyranids shot a lot of shots into Guardsmen squads, but the 2+ cover save denied any real kills, taking out a handful of Guardsmen. The traitors returned fire with their guns, scoring a hail mary krak missile kill on one of the two Venomthropes, denying the monstrous creature flank of Shrouded for following turns as well as scoring first blood. We managed to drop a Carnifex with sniper rifles from the traitor Guardsmen and the lascannons and assault cannons from the Obliterators. Not much else happened as a lot was still out of 36 inches.

As the traitors continued their advance, Tyranid monsters burst out of the ground, a Mawloc appearing just in front of the Iron Warrior Raptor unit and the Chaos Lord that flew with them, and a Trygon Prime appearing right in front of the bunker, firing into one of the forward Guardsmen squads and killing the crew on the missile launcher, reducing the gun to a ruined pile of metal. The Tyranids opened up again, a brood of Carnifexes firing a ridiculous a tirade of fire into one of the forward Guard positions.

“Hit the dirt!” yelled the squad sergeant, though only him and two other members dived behind the rubble, the rest of the squad caught by projectile Tyranid organisms that ate away at their nervous systems. More guns slammed into the traitorous lines, felling one of the Iron Warriors below Ezarine’s position, though again, the traitors largely hid behind the walls of the ruins where they had taken up position. There were Tyranid organisms everywhere and they were enclosing on the traitors’ positions.

“They die just as easily as any others who oppose the will of the Dark Gods. I want disciplined volleys of las fire to bring them down!” the commander yelled over the vox-caster, spurring the traitorous humans into action. The traitors took up positions in the front of the ruins, taking up firing positions at the encroaching horde. The Iron Warriors reinforcements turned up, the Heldrake flying into the fray and killing another Carnifex by flying through it, blades cutting it cleanly in half. The Chaos Space Marines and the gun turrets both on and near to the bunker complex opened fire upon the newly arrived Trygon, felling it in a hail of lascannon and bolter fire. The Iron Warriors moved up again, the Iron Warriors Chaos Lord grinning beneath his helmet as his unit dropped next to the Mawloc. He was ready to cleave at it with his daemon axe. Sorceror Tyllanius smirked, calling upon the powers of the Warp to strike out at the Mawloc, dulling its senses in a barrage of sensory assaults. He also stimulated the Raptor unit, driving them and their leader into a frenzy as they landed.

Then the weapons opened up. Sentinels flanked from both sides, firing autocannon shots into the synapse creatures; mortars rained down alongside the explosions of grenades and missiles; ranks of lasgun fire opened up alongside gouts of flame from the Heldrake and traitor Guard squads; sniper rifle shots found their marks beneath the carapaces of monstrous creatures and lascannons punched into the final Carnifex from one brood, bringing it down and leaving only two left standing. Sorceress Ezarine arced a band of lightning towards a nearby squad of Termagants, though they seemed largely unaffected by the onslaught of psychic lightning. When the smoke cleared, large amounts of Tyranid creatures had been brought down, the horde of gaunts a shadow of their former presence.

The Iron Warrior Chaos Lord grinned as he and his unit threw grenades and barrelled into close combat with the Mawloc. The giant creature still reeled from the overload on its senses caused by Sorceror Tyllanius, though the Chaos Lord did not need the assistance, gunning his jump pack into life and diving onto the Mawloc’s head. He raised his daemon weapon in two hands, the axe writhing and calling out for blood. With one powerful sweep, he brought it down upon the creature’s head, carving it cleanly in two and causing the creature to slump down into the ruins lifelessly, the rest of the Iron Warrior Raptors unable to do anything except watch their leader in action.

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Turn two was full of action. Firstly, a daring attempt to deep strike the Trygon ended with a mishap that allowed us to place it. We placed it directly in front of our bunker and planned to destroy it in our turn. The Mawloc scattered off the Raptor squad and landed on the other side of a ruin to them. The Carnifexes shot at a squad of traitor Guardsmen and killed most of the unit, but otherwise there was very little shooting that caused casualties. Another Chaos Marine was felled from the squad by the Aegis as well as a handful of Guardsmen from the various squads that were littered across the table.

In our turn two we managed to flatten most of the Gaunt squads with las fire and blast templates from mortars, grenade launchers and missile launchers. The Iron Warriors brought down about five monstrous creatures with the inclusion of four wounds from a vector strike on the Carnifexes along side the bolters, lascannons, various Obliterator weapons and Chaos Lord in close combat. All of our reserves came on and the Tyranid force started to look very thin. They considered conceding, though they decided to try for turn three.

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The Tyranids pressed on with their remaining forces trying to bear down on the traitors’ positions with the organisms that remained. They opened fire again, felling a couple of traitor Guardsmen and one of the Iron Warriors Obliterators, though their firepower was diminishing fast. The remaining Hormagaunts leapt into the flamer equipped traitor Guard squad, though five of the remaining seven were caught in the panicked outburst of las fire and ignited promethium. One of the remaining two was caught by the squad sergeant’s chainsword as it tried to clear the wall and the other was caught on the end of three bayonets. The Tyranids turned and withdrew from the ruins of the city.

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After their turn three the Tyranids conceded. They opened fire, though they did not manage to do anything apart from strip a hull point from the Heldrake and gain a crew stunned result, though the Iron Warrior player managed to roll a 1 on the 2+ to ignore it. They felled another handful of Guardsmen, a Chaos Space Marine from behind the Aegis again and one of the Obliterators. In the assault phase the Hormagaunts charged into one of the Guardsmen squads, though the overwatch killed all apart from two of them with rapid fire lasguns and a flamer. The Tyranid player just removed them because the Guardsmen were striking first and it was ten versus two.

The deployment of the Tyranids was questionable. They placed all of their monstrous creatures apart from one walking Tyrant on one flank, which meant that we could just counter deploy our heavy guns on the same flank. We deployed our forces very far forward, prioritising getting the Guardsmen into cover over keeping the Tyranids at long range. As a result we could get a lot of lasgun shots into the horde from turn one, whilst having over 100 models with a 4+ cover save. They also took no flyers, which I questioned as they usually take flyers and this was the first game where I took my Firestorm Redoubt (or any dedicated anti-air for that matter). Call me paranoid, but I can’t help but think that there was an element of list tailoring there.

Our deployment paid off as it meant that the Guardsmen were the only viable squads for the Tyranids to direct their attacks towards. When it’s a unit with a 4+ save for 5 points per model, it turns into a very tough amount to chew through. They killed a decent number of Guardsmen, killing about twenty models or so, though when there are about 90 left on the table, it doesn’t seem like much. Without the 2+ cover in the first turn and 4+ in subsequent turns, I would have lost a hell of a lot more men to incoming fire.

This meant that the Iron Warriors could largely operate however they wished, unloading heavy weapons and advancing all the Chaos Space Marines along the monstrous creature flank pretty much unmolested. If they had concentrated down the flank with the Aegis Defence Line and Primaris Psyker, they would have perhaps made more ground as we were relatively thin on that side.

The Mawloc deep struck in a bad position. If it had appeared in the forest with the Company Command Squad, they could have gotten slay the warlord as a Mawloc’s large blast template is more than enough to kill off an entire command squad. Their advance could have been faster in my opinion, and of course we got some lucky rolls (such as the krak missile killing the Venomthrope in the first turn on a failed 2+ cover save). However, equally there were times when our luck turned sour, such as 4 hits from 16 rapid fire lasguns or about 5 successful 3+ cover saves out of 12. However, that’s just how the game went. We’ll see how it goes if they come back for a rematch!

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Sorceress Ezarine descended from her position in the ruins, frying a remaining Termagant in psychic lightning with a sadistic grin as it screamed its death throes. It was not a pleasant sound, though she seemed to revel in the cacophony of it. She shot a grin to the command squad that was taking in casualty numbers and organising a scouring of the area, ensuring that no Tyranid spores remained this close to the Chaos fortification. She made her way back to the bunker to see the Iron Warriors Chaos Lord and Sorcerer Tyllanius conversing, the Chaos Lord was covered from head to toe in Tyranid ichor and his axe seemed to whisper into her mind. She shut it out as she clambered onto the battlements, the Chaos Lord gunning his jump pack into life and taking off, moving to join up with his own warband. Sorcerer Tyllanius turned to face the woman, his eyes still alive with Warp energies.

“The battle has ended, my Lord. We are organising a sweep of the area to make sure that no Tyranid spores or creatures remain at this location,” Sorceress Ezarine reported, kneeling before the armoured Sorcerer.

“Excellent. We will not pursue the surviving Tyranid organisms beyond our own borders here,” the Sorcerer replied, turning to face off the battlements.

“But, my Lord,” Ezarine started, a mild amount of frustration in her voice, “we have the manpower to pursue and crush them beneath our boots.”

“We do, Sorceress,” the Sorcerer responded dryly, “though the Hive Mind will think twice about sending its organisms here again. Any survivors will continue to undermine our enemies on this planet and even if we did crush every last organism, the Hive Mind will just spawn more to take their place.” He paused, turning to face the sorceress who was still kneeling before him. “We are not here to expand, only to undermine and sabotage. We do not wish to draw the attention of the Inquisition or remaining Eldar forces on the planet,” he continued, walking past the Sorceress. “Rise, Sorceress. You have done well. Continue to serve me and the Dark Gods and you will be rewarded in kind.” He dropped from the top of the bunker, regrouping with his squad of Chaos Space Marines and starting to move off.

“Thank you, my Lord. I shall not fail you,” she replied, turning to look out on the battlefield once more. The battle had gone well indeed.

The Traitors Mobilise – 1800pts Traitor Imperial Guard + Chaos Space Marines Army List

So, I’m going down to Warhammer World tomorrow to play a game where I will be fighting alongside a friend’s Chaos Space Marines. As a result, I have written up an army list of traitorous Imperial Guard and Chaos Space Marines. I will be using the models I use for my loyalist Space Marines as well as my loyal Guardsmen, because the Crimson Sentinels and the Deredian regiments were both ripped apart by heresy within. As a result, there are two separate factions of them. Here is a little flavour for the not-so-righteous side.

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Ezarine smiled as she gazed out across the lands beyond from her position on the battlements. She saw troops lined up, heavy weapons facing outwards whilst her cult leaders gave out orders to the men. Unlike most cultist groups, her warband had been recruited from the ranks of the Imperial Guard, trained men and women who were willing to give their lives for a cause; a cause that she had warped.

She felt the wind against her skin, whipping her hair about her face. She smiled as she felt each strand that caressed her cheeks, each nerve ending touched by the delicate threads that swung out from under her hood. She heard the sound of boots marching, boots of her warband as well as boots of power armoured individuals, and creatures scuttling in the far distance. She sensed the presence of the Tyranid Hive Mind.

“Daydreaming, Sorceress?” came a gritty voice from behind her. She smiled, turning to face the source of the voice and kneeling before the entity that stood before her. It was a Space Marine, clad in crimson armour, carrying a large, ornate sword and a bolt pistol around the size of Ezarine’s torso.

“I could not help but take in the atmosphere, my Lord,” she started, the same smile on her face though her eyes were shut as she bowed her head. “The sensations, the exhilaration and anticipation of the coming battle, it courses through my body like a drug.” The Space Marine chuckled at the response, an eerie laugh grating through his vox-grill.

“Excellent, Sorceress. The Dark Prince will be most pleased with your efforts. We will send him a worthy offering in the upcoming battle,” he replied, walking up to the battlements next to her. “Rise, Sorceress. You have done well in this task.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she responded as she got back to her feet, turning to face the Sorcerer in his new position, “the Tyranids encroach upon our position. Losing our position here would be detrimental to our efforts on the planet.”

“I understand this. That is why we will personally bolster your force here,” the Sorcerer answered, his tone calm as he set his gaze upon the army below, “and we will work with the other agents of the Dark Gods on this planet to ensure success. Our eyes shall be upon you at all times, Sorceress. Do not fail us.”

Ezarine grinned to herself. “All times, my Lord?” she whispered under her breath with a quiet chuckle, a sly grin spread across her face. The Space Marine turned his gaze upon her, his eyes alive with warp energies as he stared her down.

“All times.” His voice lacked any sense of joviality as he spoke the words, sending a shiver down Ezarine’s spine. As he turned and walked away, she shivered, gripping herself in a loose embrace. She wondered if it was the Inquisition and former comrades in arms that she feared more, having sensed the presence of the loyalist Crimson Sentinels and their Deredian Imperial Guard forces, or indeed if it was the encroaching Tyranid horde. In truth, it was none of these things. What she feared most, were her superiors and their patron deities. The price of failure.

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1800pts Traitor Deredian Warband

HQ

Cult Command – 70pts

Company Command Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Regimental Standard – 15pts

Sorceress Ezarine – 70pts

Primaris Psyker – 70pts

Elites

Troops

Heavy Platoon – 560pts

Heavy Command – 50pts

Platoon Command Squad – 30pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad One – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Two – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Three – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Four – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

Heavy Squad Five – 75pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Grenade launcher – 5pts

Missile launcher – 15pts

The Rain – 60pts

Heavy Weapons Squad – 60pts

Mortar – 0pts

Mortar – 0pts

Mortar – 0pts

Destruction – 75pts

Heavy Support Squad – 60pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Forward Platoon – 265pts

Forward Command – 35pts

Platoon Command Squad – 30pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Forward Squad One – 60pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Flamer – 5pts

Forward Squad Two – 60pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Flamer – 5pts

Forward Squad Three – 60pts

Infantry Squad – 50pts

Vox-caster – 5pts

Flamer – 5pts

Doomgivers – 50pts

Special Weapons Squad – 35pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Cult’s Eyes – 115pts

Veteran Squad – 70pts

Forward Sentries – 30pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Sniper rifle – 5pts

Fast Attack

Ruin – 40pts

Scout Sentinel – 35pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Heavy Reconnaissance – 40pts

Scout Sentinel – 35pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Storm – 40pts

Scout Sentinel – 35pts

Autocannon – 5pts

Heavy Support

Corrupted Sentry Battery One – 30pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Corrupted Sentry Battery Two – 30pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Corrupted Sentry Battery Three – 30pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Tarantula Sentry Gun – 15pts

Twin-linked heavy bolters – 0pts

Crimson Conquerors Warband

HQ

Sorceror Tyllanius – 140pts

Sorceror – 60pts

Mastery Level +1 – 25pts

Mastery Level +1 – 25pts

Mark of Slaanesh – 15pts

Spell familiar – 15pts

Elites

Troops

Slaves to Sensation – 145pts

Chaos Space Marine Squad – 75pts

+3 Chaos Space Marines – 39pts

Mark of Slaanesh – 16pts

Plasma gun – 15pts

Fast Attack

Heavy Support

Fortifications

Firestorm Redoubt – 230pts

Wall of Martyrs Firestorm Redoubt – 200pts

Quad Icarus lascannons – 0pts

Quad Icarus lascannons – 0pts

Magos Machine Spirit – 30pts

Grand Total – 1795pts

The Eldar Strike Force Changes Tactics

The Wave Serpents darted between trees, circling around and regrouping deeper in their territory. Farseer Lireia had watched Thalinia throughout the whole journey, though she said nothing. The Autarch was breathing quickly and her wounds remained unattended to, but every attempt at communication was met with a shake of her head.

The Wave Serpent came to a stop in an opening where Warlocks were still searching for signs of the psychic beacon. The Dire Avengers filed out, leaving Lireia and her wounded sister in the back. As the door closed, Thalinia glared daggers at Lireia, her eyes full of frustration, yet her expression remained one of agony.

“We need the help of the Mon-keigh, huh?” Thalinia started, her tone chiding of the younger Farseer, “if we had not formed up alongside them, we could have ambushed a smaller Tyranid force, attacked a weaker link in the chain. All the Mon-keigh did was attract more Tyranids and alert them to our presence with their booming guns and bravado.”

“Sister, I had a vision, I followed it,” Lireia answered, though Thalinia opened the door to the Wave Serpent and limped out. “Sister, I respect your experience in matters of war. What would you advise?” she asked, following the Autarch out with ease as she lacked even a scratch, whereas her sister was far more worse for wear. Thalinia turned around, staring at Lireia with a soft expression this time.

“You want my honest opinion? This planet is infested with both the Great Enemy and the Tyranid horror. Imperial and Tau forces are also making it a nightmare for us to move around.” She glanced off at the Warlocks momentarily, before looking back at her sister. “Our current strike force is not equipped to deal with all out warfare. They assigned us very few Aspect Warriors, very little support,” she trailed off at the end, sighing and shaking her head, placing a hand on the Farseer’s shoulder, “and assigned an inexperienced Farseer to lead the campaign.”

Farseer Lireia looked around, sighing. “You’re right, sister. Our initial instructions outlined that we were not to engage the enemy, only that we destroyed the beacon and left,” she admitted, casting a rune into the air. “We will remain with a token force to defend the Seer Council. We cannot fight all of our enemies here, so we shall remain in the shadows and continue our search without direct confrontation,” she continued, the rune orbiting her body with a blue glow.

“Then what would you have me do?” Thalinia asked, still gritting her teeth through the pain. “If you believe that we can do so, I will trust in your vision, what-”

“I want you to take the majority of our Aspect Warriors and armoured support back to the Craftworld,” she glanced at the still bleeding Autarch, who at this point was pale and faint from blood loss, “and get yourself patched up. I will direct our efforts here.”

Thalinia smiled, though it was a weak smile. She did not like the idea of leaving her younger, inexperienced sister to command the force alone, but she could see that the young Farseer was not incompetent after her command in the clash with the Tyranids. “Ok, sister. Though I do not promise that I will not return to the battlefield once my wounds are patched up. Someone has to babysit you.”

Lireia smiled back, nodding. “You always were the stubborn one,” she responded before Thalinia made her way back to the Wave Serpent. The engine hummed with energy and the Dire Avengers piled back in, along with the newly arrived survivor from the downed squad. When all the Eldar Aspect Warriors had boarded their transports, they made their way to the space port to begin a mass exodus of the planet.

Farseer Lireia also made her way to the space port. She felt the presence drawing ever closer, this familiar presence that she had felt before going into combat with the Tyranids. The presence was not alone, however. This time, there were multiple presences. Thousands? No, millions, perhaps billions. A new player had entered the arena of war. Lireia stared at the ground in despair. She knew that they were not reinforcements from the Craftworld, or she would have been informed. Then there was the familiarity. It was a strange sensation that crawled up her spine.

“Losing your head, Eldar?” came a voice from behind her. Lireia cast her runes up and pulled her singing spear around, facing the source of the voice. She narrowed her eyes. Before her stood a human woman, clad in expertly crafted black mesh armour and a mesh coat. Her hair was dark brown and swept into a messy ponytail. The woman bore an Inquisitorial seal and appeared to carry one of the humans’ crude force weapons. The woman may be a psyker, but her powers paled in comparison to the Farseer’s, allowing Lireia to covertly read the woman’s surface thoughts. The woman was not hostile, though her presence was unwelcome nonetheless.

“Inquisitor,” Lireia responded, still holding her singing spear in one hand, her runes still swirling around her. “The fact that you have not tried to kill me must mean that you recognise the greater threat on this planet,” she started dryly, still peering suspiciously at the woman.

“There are greater threats to the Imperium on this planet than a small, withdrawing Eldar strike force,” the Inquisitor responded, “plus, pointlessly shedding blood when this planet teems with heretics, traitors and overgrown pests seems excessive when the latter mentioned are far more willing to die.”

Lireia paused for a moment, contemplating her next course of action. She could fry this human’s brain in an instant. She could decapitate her with her spear. This human was foolishly alone, but Lireia saw an opportunity.

“I carry the authority to extend to you a proposition. If you will hear it?” the Inquisitor inquired casually, “though my superior, Inquisitor Lord Tyzell Chaylen can overrule my orders, I believe he will see things my way on matters of the alien.”

“I’m listening.”

“I have studied your kind, Eldar. I know that you have a reason for being here. I know that it is reason enough to spend your already dwindling population to achieve.” The Inquisitor paused for a moment. “We know that you have already struck a bargain with local Imperial forces and wish to extend to you a similar offer. You are on your own, but as long as you stay out of our way, we will stay out of yours.”

“And what makes you think that we will acquiesce to your request?” Lireia challenged, still gripping her spear tightly, despite the Inquisitor’s neutral attitude.

“Because we have roughly two companies of the Emperor’s Adeptus Astartes, as well as hundreds of thousands of trained Imperial Guardsmen at our disposal. We also have the capacity to perform Exterminatus on this planet if necessary. Pooling our resources is better than wasting manpower against each other when Tyranids and heretics infest this planet.” The Inquisitor spoke dryly with a to-the-point tone and, though Lireia did not like it, the human had a point. The humans would wage their wars against the others, the Eldar sweeping through in their wake searching for the beacon.

“Very well, Inquisitor,” Lireia started, turning to walk away from the Inquisitor, “but do not count on the Eldar to help you fight your battles.”

The Inquisitor smiled, nodding her head, “of course, Eldar,” she replied, still smiling as she turned to walk away as well, pulling her hood up to cover her head.

Lireia exited the space port where the last Eldar ships were taking off, preparing to join up with the main fleet to travel through the Webway. She had retained a small standing force of Guardians, Rangers, light vehicles and a handful of Aspect Warriors at her disposal, though she was reliant on the newly arrived Imperials to provide ample distraction whilst she led her Warlocks to find the beacon. The reports from the departing Eldar ships described an imposing fleet entering orbit bearing the iconography of Deredia.

Deredia. The planet’s name answered all of Lireia’s questions about why the presence was so familiar.

The Tyranid Swarm Encroaches!

This is from the viewpoint of the Eldar, hence there isn’t that much detailed coverage of what happened to the Imperial Guard. We were largely separate, so I didn’t catch what was going on on his side of the board. He did, however, get rather victimised by the Tyranid forces as my units were incredibly hard to kill.

Also, of course the writing favours my Eldar. It’s from their perspective and they didn’t exactly perform poorly.

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Having contacted the Imperial Guard, Farseer Lireia led a small strike force of Aspect Warriors to the battlefield. The Imperial Guard had already rolled their tanks up and had taken position in a far building, their infantry forming ranks beneath banners. Lireia bit her lip, this was not the force that she had anticipated, though it would have to suffice. She could feel the presence of the Hive Mind closing in. Casting her gaze to the distance, she could see wave upon wave of Tyranid organisms. She looked over at the human forces briefly. They seemed to be preparing to move, though the Tyranids surged forwards, advancing in waves. Clambering back into her Wave Serpent transport, she prepared to give her orders.

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So, the mission was the Scouring, we deployed terrain and objectives accordingly, before deploying our forces accordingly. We won the roll off and decided to go second, not seizing the initiative. The Tyranid forces consisted of two 1500pts lists, as did our army, deploying well over 100 Termagants with Venomthrope cover saves and a good amount of synapse from the walking hive tyrant, which rolled the synaptic linchpin warlord trait, a few Zoanthrope broods and Warriors. They kept large amounts of their army in reserve, flying monstrous creatures mostly, as well as deep striking rippers. Multiple Biovores were deployed in cover with a commanding view of the battlefield.

On our side we had three Wave Serpents and three War Walkers deployed in the far corner, with the Imperial Guard forces, consisting of a small infantry platoon and a squad of veterans, spread across the table, a Leman Russ Vanquisher next to my vehicles and a battle tank on the other side of the board, flanking a Command Squad led by none other than Creed. The Dire Avengers stayed in the Wave Serpents with Swooping Hawks and Warp Spiders, led by Autarch Thalinia, also in reserve.

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The Tyranid horde swept forwards out of the forests, opening up with Biovores, stranglethorn cannons and a few venom cannons, catching Guardsmen in the open and sending a handful of their numbers in deadly bio-acid. Farseer Lireia’s strike force remained untouched and so she moved her Wave Serpents forwards, giving them instructions on which organisms to fire upon first. With a heavy jolt, the three vehicles fired their weapons forwards, though the combined firepower did little, a lot less than she had predicted. The thunder of guns from the human lines blew Gaunts into small pieces, though many of the larger beasts remained untouched.

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Just before the first turn, a large brood of Lictors burst out of a forest near the Guard lines, firing into the Platoon Command squad. The rest of the horde moved up, keeping synapse fields overlapping with the Hive Tyrant in the middle. Their shooting opened up, killing a handful of guardsmen and causing a wound to the lascannon heavy weapons team. Largely a successful turn for the Eldar and Imperial Guard, but we both knew that it would only get worse the closer they got.

The Eldar and Imperial Guard lines opened up, killing a Venomthrope and stripping a wound off the other with discharged serpent shields. The War Walkers opened up with scatter lasers, the Guard with heavy ordnance and lasguns, though it was largely ineffective, killing some Gaunts, but not much more.

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The Tyranid guns spoke again, largely leaving the Eldar force alone once more, though Lireia felt a the psychic reverberations of death echo from the other side of the battlefield. The guns spoke out, Tyranid creatures charged headlong into squads of humans, silencing large portions of the Imperial battle lines as a Mawloc burst through the ground.

“This is Asurmen’s Wrath,” came a voice over the Wave Serpent’s communications, “our transport has been destroyed and we are proceeding out of the wreckage.” Lireia cursed under her breath, this was not what she needed. She heard spore mines landing nearby, as well as multiple sounds of Tyranid bio weapons nearby. The Dire Avengers of Asurmen’s Wrath reduced in number significantly.

“Fire again, target priority of the Hive Guard,” Lireia called to her forces, spurring the Wave Serpents into movement again, the guns of the Eldar lines returning into the Tyranids, though the sound of Imperial firepower was significantly lower. She felt the presence of Thalinia arrive with the Warp Spiders, as well as the Swooping Hawks dropping in behind the Tyranid lines. The thunder of grenades, the light patter of laser fire slamming into the Tyranid lines, wiping out two of the Zoanthropes, both Hive Guard and all bar one lone Tyranid Warrior. Lireia smiled to herself, though it would not last.

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Second turn was devastating for the Imperial Guard forces. Although the Storm Troopers, Valkyrie and Sentinel came in, they lost almost all of their infantry, minus Creed’s Command Squad. The Tyranid reserves were stifled by the Officer of the Fleet, though enough appeared to wipe out most of the Imperial Guard infantry, sparing all bar four men from the second infantry squad next to the Vanquisher. One of the Wave Serpents was downed by three penetrating hits from cover-ignoring Hive Guard, following in half of the unit dying to Biovore and Termagant fire.

In the Imperial and Eldar turn, all of our reserves came in. Warp Spiders moved on from the board edge and the Swooping Hawks deep struck. Storm Troopers deep struck and took three wounds from the Exocrene, though other than that, there was not much damage done. The Swooping Hawks took two wounds from the Warriors and killed a few Gaunts with the grenade pack, before opening up with lasblaster fire, killing all apart from the last Warrior in the squad. The Warp Spiders hit some more Gaunts, though their cover save kept many alive. Combined fire from the remaining Wave Serpents and the War Walkers removed the Hive Guard and a Zoanthrope brood from the board.

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Without the humans to keep the Tyranids distracted, they turned their attentions upon the Eldar. Flying monstrous creatures dropped from the skies overhead and the horde shifted towards the small Eldar force. The organisms opened up again, spore mines largely exploding over the hulls of the Wave Serpents, though Lireia could feel the presence of the Swooping Hawks disappearing. Thalinia and her Warp Spiders came under heavy fire from the descending creatures, felling about half of their number, though the Eldar lines stood against the bombardment.

The Imperial elite were not so lucky. The humans who dropped in via grav-chute were surrounded and systematically wiped out by the Tyranid horde, the battle tank near their commanding officer was torn open by a winged Hive Tyrant and the Sentinel was brought down by a Tyranid Warrior ambush. Lireia felt the Imperial resolve waver, sending pangs of doubt through her mind as well. A handful of Eldar Aspect Warriors stood against around five times their number and her current position was being encroached upon.

“Khaine guide you, brothers and sisters,” she called to the War Walker operators and the Dire Avengers of Asurmen’s Wrath who remained near the wreckage of their transport, collecting up the soul stones of the fallen as they fired. They knew what had to be done.

The two remaining Wave Serpents flew over the encroaching Tyranid horde, Warp Spiders teleporting shortly behind them, landing behind in an opening as the Swooping Hawks darted back to the skies. Their guns chattered, clipping one of the Biovore creatures, though otherwise little was done. The War Walkers covered the remaining Dire Avengers, hurling bolts of laser energy into the Biovores, wounding them further though they yet remained. The Imperial air support fired upon the encroaching Termagants, though the mist emitted by the remaining Venomthrope obscured their presence before the plasma sponsons of the Vanquisher tank turned it into a fleshy mess on the floor. Lireia enacted her final gambit to try and win the field.

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Turn three hurt again, the Imperials being reduced to a single tank, a single flyer and a Command Squad. Half of the Swooping Hawks and Warp Spiders were blown away by the combination of Biovores, Termagants and a flying Hive Tyrant. The Eldar initiated a counter attack, sending most of their remaining units over the Tyranids, moving all their tanks flat out and using the Warp Spiders’ mobility get behind them. Very little damage was done by either side, so things mostly just moved up and shifted position. The Tyranids started swamping the objectives with the many remaining Gaunts and the Eldar moved up for a round of shooting the following turn.

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Lireia felt her forces dwindling as yet more fire erupted from the Tyranid lines. The Mawloc beast claimed another Warp Spider as it burrowed beneath them, though thankfully, Autarch Thalinia teleported out of the way. Expecting repercussions, she steeled herself, but the Mawloc did not emerge, burrowing back around to an empty part of the battlefield. She sighed with relief, though her relief was short lived as she felt the last of the Warp Spiders being brought down by Tyranid shooting, as well as her sister’s pain. She felt the Wave Serpent to her right shake, but the fire glanced off the serpent shield that enveloped the hull, though her thoughts were momentarily distracted by the pain of her sister. The flame of the Autarch’s life flickered, though remained. Her vision was clouded, but she called out to her remaining forces.

“Walkers. I want the Tyrant dead,” she called, turning to the Dire Avengers who sat within the Wave Serpent with her. Before she could speak, the door opened and Autarch Thalinia barrelled in, fastening herself in place before resting her head against the wraithbone interior. She dripped fine streams of crimson blood down the seat, her chest moved up and down at an accelerated rate. Lireia paused momentarily, though she did not have the time to check on her sister’s wounds. “Everyone, out!” she yelled, tossing her runes about her, specks of blue orbiting her as she reached into her reserves, guiding her forces through complex divinations as the Swooping Hawks returned, dropping grenades once more upon the smaller Tyranid beasts and finishing off a wounded Biovore that skulked in the forest.

The line of Aspect Warriors sprinted out of both tanks, surrounding a small, manageable portion of the Tyranid horde. The guns of the Wave Serpents covered their advance towards the vulnerable creatures at the rear of the Tyranid force, felling the Exocrene with discharges of serpent shield energy, scatter lasers, bright lances and shuriken fire. Farseer Lireia attempted to throw the Hive Tyrant off balance, casting the runes about her and arcing psychic power around towards it, though it seemed largely unaffected by her efforts; her concentration was hard pressed through incessant whispers in her mind. The Hive Tyrant roared in defiance, turning to face her. She had foreseen her death here. She readied her singing spear and prepared to face her fate as the Dire Avengers around her systematically destroyed the Zoanthropes, Biovores and Tyranid Warriors that held their position near the back. The Hive Tyrant remained standing, taking a powerful stride towards her position.

With no warning, an eruption of laser fire slammed into the Hive Tyrant from across the battlefield. The War Walkers had turned their guns and fired at the behemoth, blasting apart its carapace and spraying ichor across the trees that stood next to it. It roared defiantly, before crumpling, a steaming cadaver leaning against the base of a tree.

Lireia smiled, though she could see the devastation. The Imperials had lost all of their foot troops apart from the commander and were cutting their losses, retreating their remaining units. She would not needlessly throw the lives of her Aspect Warriors away fighting a losing battle. The Tyranid horde still encroached upon her position en masse, though she had bought her forces time. A large group of Termagants behind her seemed hesitant with the lack of synapse creatures nearby and her vision was clearer once again.

“Skylance, gather the soulstones of the lost and depart to the skies. The rest of you, back into the transports! We cannot control this battlefield alone,” she called to her forces, running them back to their transports. In the few seconds in which the Termagant creatures wandered aimlessly, the Swooping Hawks flew over to where the Warp Spiders had fallen, sweeping up their soul stones before departing to the skies. The War Walkers covered the lone remaining Dire Avenger on the other side of the battlefield as he did the same, hopping onto the leg support of the nearest War Walker once he was done. As quickly as they had emerged, the Eldar strike force had retreated, abandoning the battlefield to the horror of the Tyranid swarm.

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We conceded at the end of turn four. There was not very much left on the board for my ally and large chunks of the Tyranid force remained at large. I made one final push against the Tyranids and managed to slay one of their warlords through stupid amounts of scatter laser fire power, as well as large chunks of synapse coverage and Biovores (those things are a pain!). We weathered the Tyranid shooting well, though he lost the last two Guardsmen who, to their credit, stood their ground to the bitter end, surrounded by Ripper swarms, a flying Hive Tyrant, about twenty eight Termagants and a Hive Crone. Truly warriors worthy of the Emperor!

The Tyranids played well and played to their strengths, pushing numbers over our positions and just overwhelming us with a sheer volume of bodies. I felt really bad for the Imperial Guard player, as the Tyranids massively surged his position early, leaving him with very few forces to use in the later game. The Biovores, in my opinion, were the unit of the match for their side, accounting for heavy Guardsman losses as well as a relatively large amount of Eldar losses (though relative is the operative term, having not lost too many models as they all remained in transports until the final turn). For our side, I’m calling it on the War Walkers. Those three models can put up a nasty number of wounds, even mustering enough fire power to kill a Hive Tyrant in one volley. I would recommend them to any Eldar player, those two scatter lasers are punishing to infantry and monstrous creatures alike! Special mention goes out to the Storm Troopers though, casting aside their fear of death and dropping right into the heart of the Tyranid lines to put three wounds on the Exocrene was quite the sight to behold. They then put a wound on a Warrior when overwatching, but were overwhelmed as expected. A good, enjoyable game though; I will write up some more later (as in, fluff bits to cover what happened after the Eldar retreated) but that’s all for now.

My Belated Valentine’s Day Post

No judging me here, I’ve just finished watching the 1996 screen adaptation of Romeo and Juliet with a sizeable portion of budget Neapolitan ice cream. Happy Valentine’s Day to you all, even if you are single and drowning sorrows in ice cream and amaretto like I am. As such, I am feeling in the mood to write something romantic (albeit short), so let’s get down to it! The premise is an idea for a character that I’ve had. It’s actually a character that I originally made for the Black Crusade 40k campaign that I am in (not to be confused with the tabletop 40k campaign) where I play a cultist of Slaanesh. That is just as bad as it sounds, but I find the character interesting, so naturally, I will make her into a proper character for one of my own universes. This, however, may or may not be actual canon in my own universe, I just felt like writing something romantic. I’m just going to let the sugar and alcohol speak. Note: I am currently two pages into this and… Well, I have to début this type of writing at some point, right? If you are a child, I’m waggling my finger and shaking my head right now. This is not child-friendly!

Double note: I know this is late. I finished it really late last night and did not want to post it until this morning.

Triple note: Where the bloody hell did all my formatting go! Argh! Reformatted the whole thing and corrected a few parts.

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The upper echelons of the social ladder knew how to throw a traditional masquerade ball. Cassie watched the guests, her elaborate silver mask covering the upper half of her face, small gemstones sparkling in the light as she took a delicate sip from her drink. There was a thick sense of superiority amongst the guests, palpable snobbery that clung to her like an unwanted odour. She felt out of place, a thorn amongst roses, coarse linen thrown into the same basket as the most delicate silks. The imagery swirling in her head caused her to smile, taking another sip from her drink. She had not been born into the upper class society, nor had she been bred and inducted from birth; she was born to the lowest class, living in the underground of Old London, educating herself and often killing to survive. Yet, here she stood; slender figure wrapped in a graceful, red ball gown, striking features hidden behind the masquerade mask that allowed her chocolate eyes to pierce through, full red lips contrasting her fair skin. Her dark brown hair was worn in a neat bun, held in place by a pair of black, metallic sticks. Her appearance did not show her upbringing, nor did her posture, standing tall and proud amongst the corporate big shots and aristocrats.

She glanced around at the security. There was a generous security detail, men with assault rifles that she assumed were at least partially cybernetic, housing all manner of nasty surprises for a rowdy guest. She also assumed that there was a number of undercover agents in the guest list, hired by the Kacen conglomerate to watch over their social gathering. Her smile broadened as she took another small sip from her drink. She relished the challenge. If the hunt was too easy, the satisfaction was minor, after all. There were plenty of fresh-faced young men at the party to choose from, many of them looked new to the company, shaking hands with the older officials with false smiles and pleasantries. She finished her current drink and started to gaze out of the window next to her. The party’s venue was situated in the upper floors of Kacen conglomerate’s glass tower. She could see for miles, tiny dots zooming about in the night as London’s night life shifted.

She looked back to the guests. Many had shifted to the dance floor, men and their partners guiding their feet over the dance floor slowly, hands clasped as they held onto each other. She noticed a young man across the room, locking eyes with him. He was young, mid twenties she thought, his features largely hidden behind a mask that covered from his forehead down to the end of his nose. He made his way slowly through the crowd until he found his way to her side, not once breaking eye contact. His eyes were a deep blue, piercing through the black mask, and his hair was dark and cleanly cut. His suit was incredibly well pressed, dark grey with a blue shirt underneath, unbuttoned at the top.

“Good evening, madam,” he spoke softly, yet politely, a smile across his face, “may I request this dance?”

The question lingered in Cassie’s mind. She was honestly lost for words. Unwary prey had just walked up to the predator and asked to be consumed. She returned the smile as he waited patiently. “Of course, sir,” she responded, holding her hand out which he took gently, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. She took his hand in hers and placed the other on his shoulder as he placed one by her hip. She had never been formally taught how to dance, though it was not hard and she had picked it up with experience, following his steps with perfect execution.

“Might I ask your name, madam?” he asked as the two danced through the crowd, their steps perfectly in sync, their form flawless.

“Cassandra Winters,” she replied, tone as soft as her steps, “and you, kind sir? What might I call you?”

“Oliver Kacen.” Cassie could not believe her luck. She had managed to bag a son of the Kacen clan. She knew her aristocracies, she knew he was the fourth son of the clan. Not the most important, but a worthy catch nonetheless. “Winters, eh? I have not heard of your family name,” he continued, twirling her on the spot.

“You might say that I’m a self made woman,” she responded as the two locked positions once more, their feet gliding gracefully between the other dancers. “I guess it would be a fool’s errand to ask you the same, Mr. Kacen.”

He smiled at the notion, shaking his head. “Perhaps, though does the name make the person, or the person make the name, Miss. Winters?” he asked, flashing a sly grin.

Cassie giggled quietly. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, Mr. Kacen. As you have implied, my family name is of low import, yet you still wish to continue this dance.”

“Would any of the other guests, with their important family names, sport such beauty and grace as the one I see before me?” he inquired rhetorically, causing Cassie to miss a step in the dance. The compliment hit her like an amphetamine crash. This man was so forward and direct it took her completely off guard. She slipped back into step after a split second, though Oliver had noticed, grinning at her. “Surprised, Miss. Winters?”

“No,” she immediately replied, though after two more steps, she continued. “Well. Yes, I am actually.”

“Why so? The fact that I speak the truth is surprising?” he asked, twirling her around once more.

“Most guests here, with names of lower import than your own, would not even consider conversing with one such as I. I find it hard to believe that the fourth son of the Kacen clan would take an interest in me.”

“They lose their feelings in the world of business, whether this is desired or enforced by employers changes from clan to clan,” he replied factually, his expression assuming one of neutrality. “Some of them are no better than robots, placing social status over the feelings that have been removed from their minds.”

“And what of you?” she asked hastily, “what of the Kacen clan? You’re not going to take me into a back room and suck my emotions out, are you?”

He smiled again. The music came to its finishing point and the two pressed against each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured before planting his lips upon hers, their hands still locked in position from the dance as their tongues continued the dance. She closed her eyes, squeezing his hand slightly as the two remained locked together, his hand sliding around from her hip to her back. The two parted lips, Cassie opening her eyes only to be met by Oliver’s gaze once more. She smiled and took a step backwards, still holding onto his hand. She noticed him follow her step, also not letting go of her hand, and continued to walk, leading him off the dance floor, past the windows and into a small corridor just off from the main hall.

The lighting was different here, a yellow hue given off from the bland, beige paint. The carpet was green and there were doors up to the end where the corridor forked in both directions. He pulled her to him once more, locking her in a more intense kiss than the courteous, reserved one on the dance floor, sliding a hand around her backside. She placed her hands on his chest, worming her way beneath his suit jacket as the two embraced one another. She could feel his physique under his shirt; chiselled features easily identifiable to her fingertips. The two switched positions as he pressed her against a wall, working his way down her neck with his lips, hands around her body. Her cheeks flushed a mild red as she gripped him tightly, her breathing increasing. She looked briefly at the door that they had entered from, pressing her hands against his chest and gently pushing him away a little.

“Not here,” she whispered, gesturing towards the door. He nodded with a smile, took her hand and started to lead her down the hall, left at the fork, then down a few more doors before placing his thumb onto the identification lock of one of the doors on the end. With a click, the door unlocked and he pulled her through the door with him, the door closing and locking automatically as the two barrelled in. The two locked tongues once more, Cassie slipping her hands under Oliver’s suit jacket to slide it off his shoulders and down his arms, Oliver reaching around to pull at the neatly tied lace at the back of Cassie’s ball gown. The pair rarely parted as they systematically de-robed each other, smiling and giggling with each removed piece of clothing. As they were stripped down to their undergarments, the two collapsed onto the bed, still fixed in each other’s embrace. He pinned her down to the mattress, evoking a mischievous grin from Cassie as she gazed up into his eyes again.

“You’re far more forward than I thought,” she smiled up at him, removing the two metallic sticks from her now out of place bun and placing them on the bedside table.

“A common misconception. We’re not all mindless automatons,” he replied with a grin, planting his lips upon hers once more as he placed himself inside of her. She gave out a moan, both hands on his back as she felt him, cheeks flushing red with a tone that largely matched her lip colour.

“So I see,” she uttered as he slid himself back and forth between her legs, both her breathing and his speeding up. She planted her lips upon his once more, grabbing hold of him with a tight grip. She could feel his heart racing as he could with hers. She pushed him aside, switching positions with him, forcing him to lie with his back against the mattress. She reached down to his crotch as she straddled him, rubbing his cock and putting him inside, before moving her hands up his chest, coming to rest beside him as he thrust into her, faster and faster. With a load groan, he reached orgasm, his face contorting with the pang of pleasure. She smiled, allowing her breathing to normalise a little, leaning down to plant another kiss upon his lips as he slid out.

“Definitely not an automaton, Mr. Kacen,” she giggled, holding him as she allowed herself to topple to the side. She continued to gaze into his eyes. He was different to the others, his eyes were still filled with the same feelings as when they first met, opposed to the others who seemed empty after the act of intercourse. She felt differently about him as well. She looked at the two metal sticks that she had previously used to hold her hair into a neat bun for a brief moment, though she did not feel the compulsion to reach for them. He smiled at her.

“If I were an automaton, I would be incapable of feeling this way about you, Miss. Winters,” he replied, moving some of her hair from her face with his upward facing arm. She smiled, looking down at his body, then back to his eyes. She could not but help feeling this way for him. At every turn, he surprised her. She expected to find just another rich aristocrat with no ability to care about an unknown with a lowly family name.

“Please, call me Cassie,” she smiled at him, drawing out a quiet laugh from him.

“Only if you promise to call me Oliver,” he answered, stroking her cheek affectionately. “I ho-” his speech was interrupted as the door was busted open. Two armed men in full tactical gear burst into the room, rifles pointed into the room. Cassie rolled out of the bed, crouching behind it as Oliver looked at the members of the security team with a perplexed expression, covering himself with the duvet.

“Mr. Kacen, sir, thank goodness you’re alive,” the security team leader said with a sigh of relief.

“What are you talking about, soldier?” he inquired, a confused tone mirroring his expression, looking back at Cassie who was crouching behind the bed.

“Sir, we have reason to believe that Miss. Cassandra Winters is a harlot and a murderer who preys upon the rich, such as yourself. An underworld type,” the leader explained, moving around the bed cautiously with his rifle pointed just past Oliver.

As he cleared the bed, Cassie sprung out, grabbing his rifle and twisting out of the way as he pulled the trigger, sending a spray of bullets against the opposite wall. She grabbed his pistol from its holster and, in one fluid motion, shot a 9mm bullet straight through his neck, turning to engage the other security officer. He let out a burst of shots at her, catching her in the calf. She let out a yell in pain, crumpling to the floor, though she let of two shots from the side-arm, catching him in the arm with the first shot, the second going through the goggles of his helmet. She pulled herself up, using the bed as support as she looked down at her bloody leg. There was a hole where the bullet entered, as well as an exit wound on the back of her leg.

“Shit,” she muttered, limping over to her discarded clothing. She began to dress frantically, though she looked around at Oliver, who was still on the bed, completely dumbstruck as he contemplated what just happened. She slipped into her underwear, then her dress, doing her best to tie a makeshift knot in the lacing so that it did not just fall down. She gripped the pistol and limped over to the door.

“What was I to you?” Oliver asked, still just sitting, immobile with indecision. He was not sure what the best course of action was. On one hand, he thought about picking up the assault rifle of the dead security captain and shooting her. One the other hand, he considered apprehending her.

“I’m sorry,” she answered, “you weren’t like the rest, Oliver. I-” she trailed off, hearing activity down the corridor. “If you were, I would have killed you by now. I’m just… I’m sorry.” Before he could reply, she limped out of the room, using the wall to support her as she made her way towards the stairs. Blood dripped down her leg and onto the green carpet, darkening little dots into the bland design. Her head span. She felt like passing out. She could hear guards down the corridor. She could hear guards coming up the stairs. She glanced at a nearby waste disposal unit. A smile crept across her face as she shook her head.

“From the trash, back down with the trash, huh?” she muttered, clambering slowly into the chute and allowing herself to slide down. By the time Oliver had gotten enough clothes on to look decent and left the room to chase after her, she was long gone.

Deep in the lower levels of Old London, a slender figure in a grimy, yet showy ball gown impacted messily with a pile of trash, flopping like a ragdoll against old rubbish with a 9mm side-arm still gripped tightly in her hand.

The War for Amarah Prime – 1500pts Craftworld Ithyl-Loc Strikeforce

So, I’ve decided to write a load of fiction and narrative for a 40k campaign that I am currently taking part in. I will be providing battle reports with a heavy narrative focus in the near future, as well as my army list at each bracket we play. At the time of writing this post I am undefeated at 6 – 0 wins to losses, thus the Eldar are in very good shape to win the campaign at the moment. With some new additions, I have been paired with the Imperial Guard player, an absolutely wonderful synergy of armies coming out. The way I write army lists is I write the list, but I write the background fluff beforehand. This one is a bit longer, due to the fact that I have been lax and have not written anything up for the 600, 800, 1000 and 1200 point bracket games. Also, note that I am inexperienced when it comes to writing 40k fluff, even less so when it comes to Eldar, a very hard race to really get into the mindset of. I find the Imperial Guard and Inquisition far easier to write for 🙂

Without further delay, here is my 1500pts Eldar list, complete with the narrative.

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Rain. Poor weather conditions had set in over the north western territories of the planet Amarah Prime and the skies were dark with clouds, Tyranid spore clusters and great naval fleets doing battle in orbit. The cloaked Eldar fleet continued to covertly supply the warhost with weapons and supplies, slipping between enemy positions like an invisible river. Their campaign on the planet’s surface was going well, far better than Autarch Thalinia had expected. Autarch Thalinia was a lithe individual, her form surrounded by the bulky warp jump generator typically used by the warriors of the Warp Spider aspect shrine. The rain ran down her striking features as she stared into the distance.

Her gaze shifted to the foliage to her left, the plant-life relatively thick in the unmolested Eldar territories in the north-west. She placed a hand on her sleek power sword, her gaze narrowing at the source of the disturbance, ready to kick her warp jump generator into life to ambush any potential attacker. It was mostly inconceivable that anything could get into the Eldar territory without being detected by one of the many shrouded outposts that they had set up across their territory and borders; however, complacency was not in the Autarch’s nature. A split second later, an Eldar ranger emerged from the undergrowth, his long rifle in his hands, cameleoline cloak trailing slightly behind him.

“Autarch, we have completed our sweep of the area. We can arrive at the Capital in a few days, though the Tyranid horde encroaches,” he reported to the Autarch.

“Excellent,” Thalinia started, though her gaze shifted to the distance again, “how does the Seer Council’s search for the beacon progress?” she asked after a brief moment of silence.

“They have yet to find it.”

“I see.”

“Farseer Lireia has also requested an audience with you.”

Thalinia went silent for a moment once more, still staring into the distance. “Would you like me to deliver a message?” the ranger asked, though Thalinia held her hand up and shook her head.

“No. I shall speak with her. If we are to start a push into areas infested with Tyranid spores, I want us to have a firm plan of attack,” she replied, nodding to the ranger, “return to your duties, Ranger. I shall discuss our next course of action with the Seer Council.”

With that, she turned at made her way back through the forest. She had set up a war camp nearby, her forces completing their retrieval of the soul stones from those lost in the previous engagement with the loyalist Space Marines. When she arrived, she took inventory of all the soul stones before ordering her forces into their Wave Serpent and Falcon transports.

“Where are we needed, Autarch?” the driver asked as she clambered into the back of the Falcon, her bulky warp jump generator taking up almost double the space that she normally would.

“Take me to Farseer Lireia’s position,” she responded assertively, cradling her Reaper launcher across her lap. She did not like taking up so much space within the confines of a Falcon grav-tank, though she was alone this time.

“We will be there swiftly,” the Falcon’s pilot responded, relaying the orders to the rest of the warhost before gunning the anti-grav generators into life, skimming over the planet’s surface towards the Seer Council’s current position deep in their territory.

The Falcon came to a stop near to a group of Warlocks who were scouring the area, eliminating wayward Tyranid spores and trying to track down the psychic emanations that were drawing the Tyranids to the planet. Thalinia departed her position in the Falcon, making her way over to Farseer Lireia, recognising her with ease through the Warlocks and Guardians who were defending them. Thalinia found her in the middle, floating a few feet above the ground, runes dancing about her with a blue glow. She slung her Reaper launcher to behind her warp jump generator, folding her arms patiently.

After a short time, Lireia floated gently to the ground, collecting the runes from the air before turning around to face the Autarch. She reached out with her mind, calling her singing spear to her hand through keen telekinetics.

“Sister,” Lireia beamed, making her way swiftly towards Thalinia, though a stern look from her older sibling caused her to stop in her tracks.

“Lireia, you wanted to talk about our next move on the planet,” Thalinia replied, her arms still folded with a stern expression on her face. She was a little sour that the Craftworld’s senior Seer Council had assigned her, an Autarch with a score of military conquests to her name, as a subordinate to an inexperienced Farseer. It was doubly testing of her patience that the inexperienced Farseer was her younger sibling.

Lireia stopped in her tracks, nodding and adopting a similarly serious expression. “It is simple, Sister. We do not have the numbers for this campaign,” she uttered, ushering Thalinia to follow her. The two figures walked to the side of another Falcon grav-tank before Lireia continued speaking, “we do, however, have an alternative.”

“And that is?”

“I have extended an offer to a local regiment of Mon-keigh. They would provide ample bodies-”

“We do not need the Mon-keigh,” Thalinia interjected, a frown across her face, “you wouldn’t notice from your position behind the battle lines, but we have been doing perfectly fine without the aid of others.”

“Sister,” Lireia started, though she went quiet for a moment. “If that is the case, then I shall take to the battlefield and direct the warhost from the front. What would you advise?”

“We have our position here, though we should use our speed to lock down more area of the planet,” Thalinia started, though she sighed, “if we are to work with the Mon-keigh, then we may afford to spread our influence further. We will let our enemies bleed over the Capital and strike once their forces are weary from the fight.”

“Trust in my vision, Sister,” Lireia cut in, sensing Thalinia’s doubt in the partnership between the humans and their forces. “They will not strike against us. Your work directing our Craftworld’s warhost has garnered us a reputation. We have defeated the Great Enemy. We have defeated the ravenous Tyranid horde. We have bested the naïve Tau aggression. We have even triumphed over these Mon-keigh’s warrior idols, the Space Marines. They will not strike against us, and we will not strike against them.” Lireia paused for a moment. “It is pointless to clash with the massed forces of the Mon-keigh. The other factions vying for the planet are making allegiences and we cannot stand alone amongst them. We have a job to do, and very few warriors with which to do it, so avoiding a pointless bloodbath is in our best interest and-”

Lireia paused, glancing to the side monetarily.

“And?” Thalinia inquired in the pause.

“This planet has earned the Mon-keigh Inquisition’s attention.”

“Do you think that they will burn the planet?”

“I am not sure. The presence of so many Tyranid organisms clouds my vision, though I feel a sense of familiarity of with our impending company,” Lireia hesitantly answered, “though I shall try to make contact once we have established who this agent of the Inquisition is. We need to discern whether they are here to destroy the entire planet, in which case we will be forced to withdraw from the planet’s surface.”

Thalinia nodded, glancing back over to her Falcon transport.

“I trust in your vision, Sister,” she responded, “we shall make contact with the Mon-keigh and attempt to establish a more secure hold over our territories. I shall see you on the battlefield.”

“May Khaine guide our blades,” Lireia concluded, returning to her Warlocks as Thalinia departed to rally the Aspect Warriors and prepare the warhost for battle. Their enemies would not wait, so the Craftworld would bring them the death that they sought.

1500pts Ithyl-Loc Strikeforce

HQ

Farseer Lireia – 105pts

Farseer – 100pts

Singing spear – 5pts

Autarch Thalinia – 125pts

Autarch – 70pts

Warp jump generator – 15pts

Power weapon – 15pts

Reaper launcher with starswarm missiles – 25pts

Elites

Troops

Asurmen’s Wrath – 249pts

8 Dire Avengers – 104pts

Wave Serpent – 115pts

Twin-linked scatter lasers – 5pts

Shuriken cannon – 10pts

Holo-fields – 15pts

A Thousand Blades – 249pts

8 Dire Avengers – 104pts

Wave Serpent – 115pts

Twin-linked scatter lasers – 5pts

Shuriken cannon – 10pts

Holo-fields – 15pts

Storm of Blades – 239pts

8 Dire Avengers – 104pts

Wave Serpent – 115pts

Twin-linked bright lances – 5pts

Holo-fields – 15pts

Fast Attack

Sentinels of the Infinity Matrix – 152pts

8 Warp Spiders – 152pts

The Skylance – 160pts

10 Swooping Hawks – 160pts

Heavy Support

Murehketh Bein Hekhita – 70pts

War Walker – 60pts

Scatter laser – 5pts

Scatter laser – 5pts

Murehketh Bein Hekhita – 70pts

War Walker – 60pts

Scatter laser – 5pts

Scatter laser – 5pts

Murehketh Bein Hekhita – 70pts

War Walker – 60pts

Scatter laser – 5pts

Scatter laser – 5pts

Total – 1489pts

Inquisitorial Liaison

Total – 0pts

Fortifications

Total – 0pts

Grand Total – 1489pts

Chapter 1 – Because I don’t know what to call the book yet.

Right. I’m going to post up a book that I started work on recently (yes, it’s another one) chapter by chapter. These will not be regular, but that’s just the way writing whilst in my last year of University whilst preparing to take the American SATs works; I sometimes just have too much stuff on my plate!

Regardless, I present chapter 1 of a book that I don’t know the name of yet. Names are hard. 😦 Feedback is welcomed as usual, as is pointing out grammatical slips!

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The morning sun pierced through the windows, illuminating the small room with natural light. It was basically furnished, two faux wood desks pushed against the wall by the window, an empty faux wood bookshelf against the opposite wall and a large built in wardrobe opposite the entrance. A metal framed bed was pushed up in the corner by the door, separating the wall from the desks by the window, with a second on the other side of the desk. The simple blue carpet and plain, white walls gave off the feeling of new, modern affordability.

Roseanne sat on the bed near the door, her coat across her lap as she twiddled her thumbs nervously, staring intently at the opposite, unoccupied bed through black, thick-rimmed glasses. She was young, eighteen years old with shoulder length, vibrant blonde hair, a fair skin tone and bright blue eyes. She was about average height, a toned physique beneath a pair of fitted denim jeans and grey blouse with red Converse high tops adorning a pair of small, well-proportioned feet. She was a mildly attractive individual, though her slight lack of care pierced through her poorly attended features. Her hair was pulled into a simple, yet practical pony tail and her makeup was simply applied, a light dusting of eye shadow surrounding a pencil thin line of eyeliner.

She wondered what her room mate would be like. How would she react to Roseanne’s presence? Would she be friendly? Every plausible question that she could think of swirled around Roseanne’s mind like a hyperactive goldfish in a bowl. She took a moment to look at her suitcase which remained sealed by the bedside. She had to unpack, though she was too racked with nerves to consider it. Massachusetts was far from her home in Tennessee. It was notably colder this far north, the mentality of people was wildly different and the urban surroundings of the university accommodation contrasted the ambience of the family farm almost totally.

Her gaze snapped around to the door as the silence that flooded the room was broken by the sound of the door opening. A woman peered into the room with a rather large suitcase in tow. She had bright red hair, though otherwise her colouring was similar to that of Roseanne. She was wearing a brown coat, dark, denim jeans and a matching grey, woollen hat and pair of gloves. For a moment, Roseanne just stared awkwardly, though her expression quickly shifted to that of a friendly smile.

“Hey there,” Roseanne announced, waving a hand.

“Hello,” the woman answered, a questioning expression on her face as she entered the room. She took a seat on the other bed on the opposite side of the room, dumping her suitcase by the end. “I take it that you’re my room mate?” she asked, looking upon Roseanne with a quizzical expression. Her accent sounded more foreign than Roseanne’s, much to her surprise.

“Yep,” Roseanne replied happily, her smile remaining on her face, “name’s Roseanne. Roseanne Jackson, but you can call me Rose if you want.”

“Leila De Fiore, pleasure to meet you,” Leila responded as she removed her hat and gloves, leaving a rather messy head of hair behind as the wool clung to red strands. She rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out a hairbrush and a small container of powder-based foundation, flipping it open and tending to her, now unkempt, hair.

“Likewise,” Roseanne said, though her concentration was elsewhere for the moment. She pondered the red-headed woman curiously for a moment. “Say, Leila? Could I be so bold as to ask where you”re from? If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t sound American.”

Leila grinned, turning to face Roseanne with a wry smile. “Syracuse, New York,” she revealed, still grinning as she turned her attention back to her mirror, brushing her hair carefully. Roseanne opened her mouth to speak, though she was cut off as Leila chuckled, shaking her head. “Sorry for the guilt trip, Rose. I grew up in Milan, Italy, but moved here when my father’s work brought us over. I’ve only been in America for a few years.”

“Ah,” Roseanne responded, her view shifting to the floor for a moment as an awkward silence coated the room.

“So what about you?” Leila questioned, still looking into the mirror, though she had now deposited the hairbrush back into her bag.

“Me? I grew up on a farm out in the sticks. Born and raised in Tennessee.” Leila grinned once again, though it was hard to tell if it was due to something in the mirror or Roseanne’s words. Roseanne could not help but notice that her room mate was incredibly vain; a trait that Roseanne did not share.

“So, Rose. You doing anything later? Some of the students in the opposite block are having a party.”

“Huh? Are we invited?”

“Well, I am. Therefore, by extension, so are you.”

“I am not so sure,” Roseanne started, though Leila shut her foundation case with a loud snap.

“Listen, Rose, this is just how college works. I’m invited, so my room mate is invited,” Leila replied, placing the foundation case back in her bag before looking back over to Roseanne with a confident smile. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. A chance to get to know everyone we’re going to be living near, plus I need a reliable wingman.”

“Oh, fine. How can I resist such an invitation,” Roseanne confessed, shaking her head with a chuckle, “but you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you, deal?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leila replied with a grin, “the cowgirl and the city girl. We’re going to be one hell of a team.”

Minutes of conversation turned to hours. The pair of newly acquainted room mates had lunch in a nearby café whilst they discussed differences and similarities, what degrees they were studying and such topics. Leila, as it turned out, was studying political science. By the time they got back to their accommodation, it was almost time to head across to the party, leading to the pair frantically changing clothes and decorating themselves with hastily applied makeup and unpacked jewellery. They eventually settled on their appearances, Leila taking a significant amount of time longer than Roseanne, and made their way to the party.

Creative Writing – 13/02/2014

First (and only, because I’m not posting my “bad sex scene”) thing that I managed to write this week was a “tragic romance”. It’s not like other things I may post here, as it’s something that I had to write in a matter of a few minutes, but I said that I would post everything (well… Almost everything) that I do in my University’s Creative Writing society. It’s the only society I really go to and I love it, but I digress, this is what I managed this week:

————————

I sit up on the mattress and reach for the pack of cheap cigarettes on the smooth metal cabinet to my left. Still got three left, which should last me until I can get to a merchant. I light one up and place it between my lips, drawing the air through the slow combustion of tobacco. Looking towards the open door, I notice a dim light and the sound of water running. He’s been in there for a few minutes now. I did not think that I would be capable of loving one of his clan, and yet, here I am; sitting on the bed with a cigarette between my lips after a long and, to my shame, enjoyable night of excess and passion.

Is it love? Do I really love him? Or is this just another object of lust? The questions circle around my head as I blow a thin cloud of smoke into the room. He walks back out of the bathroom, still naked. I can’t help but fix my gaze to his figure as he walks up beside me, pushes some of my hair back and kisses me on the cheek with a smile. How did I get into this situation? Loving him is just out of the question, it is forbidden, so why do I feel this way? Why now?

“Are you okay?” he asks me as I stare blankly at the opposite wall, cigarette poised between my fingers, as I try to reason with the situation and come to a logical conclusion. I look him in the eyes. I have never felt this way about someone before. I thought that it could just be lust speaking, but this is different. I can’t put my finger on it.

I smile weakly as I place my free hand on his cheek. Better not to think, better to just follow instructions. I feel the hidden, retractable blades beneath my nails sliding out of their position. I close my eyes and a tear rolls down my cheek, smile dissipating as quickly as his blood ran down my hand, then arm, then drips onto the mattress.

—————————

That’s all I got this week. I tend to get too wrapped up in conversations and, as I said, I’m not posting up my bad sex scene that I wrote. It’s something that I’ve been trying to improve, so I do not want the first sex scene that I post up to be really bad! 🙂

I’m going to be working on something for Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I plan on going to Tesco to buy ice cream and chocolate so I can really get into the feel of being a single writer on Valentine’s Day. Now all I need to do is find a collection of romance films…

Plumbing Hate

((The reason I did this is to get my mindset into both a character and a setting that I have in my mind. Thought I’d post it up as I quite like how it turned out. I think I will make this into a thing (called Scribbles) where I just post up little exercises I set myself.

This piece does contain foul language, so if you’re a minor and reading this, imagine me waggling my finger and shaking my head))

————

Drip. Drip. Drip. I can’t stand the fucking dripping. Sergeant Chase’s pitiful attempts at interrogation are nothing in comparison to the god damned dripping. It lasts all day and all night. I can’t sleep.

I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The white paint is cracked and peeling in places. Probably due to the damp. They need to sort their fucking plumbing out. I tilt my head to look at who is on guard duty. Private Morris. A waster of a soldier, if these pigs can even be called that. No, they are just bullies in uniform. The whole world goes to shit and some self-important fuck up will manage to assert his or her ideas of democracy and freedom, when all they do is create Nazi fucking Germany.

Old Jim starts to sing some hillbilly trash, though Private Morris quickly walks up and silences him by clattering his baton against the bars and barking orders at him. I wish Old Jim would shut up. Sure, he’s probably here for some ridiculous reason, but he’s really annoying me with his constant one man karaoke attempts. He shuts up every time whoever is on guard duty intervenes, which is usually pretty quick, but sometimes it happens when I’m trying to sleep; sometimes it even happens when I finally manage to get to sleep through this fucking dripping!

I need to get out of here. I am going to lose my mind in this god damned cell. I stand up and start pacing, running my fingers against the old, rusty metal bars that stand between me and my freedom. I could trick Private Morris into coming close and then strangle him through the bars. I look down at my hands, then over to Private Morris. I’m about to call over to him when Sergeant Chase enters and approaches him.

The two of them begin talking in a whisper. I try to listen in, but they start to walk down the corridor towards the end of the cells. Perhaps this is my chance? Nobody is around to guard the cells, so I quickly start to examine the lock that binds my cell door shut. It looks easy enough to break. Perhaps I could even force it open?

Private Morris enters again before I am able to do anything, snuffing out any hope I had of escape at this time. Oh well. I will just have to bide my time until someone fucks up. I lie back down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. The dripping is really pissing me off. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. I’m tired anyway, I’ll plan possible escapes when I wake up. It must be getting late, but nobody can tell as this jail has no fucking windows and no way of telling the time. But with this fucking dripping even thinking about sleeping is optimistic.

I hate the fucking dripping…

Suddenly a clatter against the bars on my cell.

‘The fuck?’ I shout at Morris, pissed that he woke me when I finally managed to get to sleep.

‘Visitor.’ The words uttered so simply cause my mind to turn on its side. Visitor? Nobody fucking cares enough. I stare at Morris with a confused, yet still pissed expression. ‘Your lover… Or something,’ Morris elaborates before stepping away from the bars, standing against the far wall. The door at the end of the corridor opens and shuts with a loud clang. Many people appear to have taken position near the bars of their cells and Sergeant Chase seems to be suppressing them. It’s not surprising, some of these men probably haven’t seen a woman in years. I stand up from my bed, curiously walking to the front of my cell to get a better look.

Blue summer dress, long, golden blonde hair, woven, wide-rimmed hat concealing the upper half of her face as she looks at the floor, heels clattering against the stone floor as she walks. The way she carries herself rings out a dissonance with the messy, dirty surroundings of the prison. She carries a brown leather bag, hooked over her shoulder and held just under her armpit. She is no lover of mine. I have never been so lucky to attract such beauty.

As she reaches my cell, Sergeant Chase seems to gesture at me, receiving a nod from the woman before walking back down the corridor. Is she really a lover of mine? How fucked up on drugs and alcohol was I that night as to not remember such luck? Maybe I really do need to give that shit up. She turns to Private Morris and whispers something quietly. He just seems to nod and walks a few paces further down the corridor.

She turns to me, bright blue eyes behind black, thick-rimmed glasses locked with mine.

‘Baby, I’ve been so worried,’ she starts, walking closer to the bars. Her voice was silken and thick with concern, a heavy southern accent seemed so out of place this far north. Who is she? I walk up to the bars to meet her. I briefly look down as I feel her hands locking with mine. Her hands are smooth to the touch, almost impossibly so for a wastelander. I notice Private Morris staring at us from across the room. I should have expected it, really. I look back into her eyes and stare longingly. Though longing is not the only reason.

Her expression had shifted dramatically into a sly grin. Her smile radiated both comfort and a level of confidence beyond perception.

‘Who are you?’ I ask her curiously, my voice a mere whisper, ‘I do not remember you. Was I fucked on amphetamines or something?’ I continue to question. Her grin widens.

‘I am here to offer you a job, mister Moore,’ she utters quietly, her tone quick and to the point, ‘my employer wishes to make use of your skills for a job.’ Of course. I accumulated quite the reputation as a hired gun before I got captured. Robert Moore: the man who could get anything done. My reputation as a wasteland bad-ass was certainly something that I abused on many occasions to get into a women’s pants. Fuck, I miss that lifestyle.

But this woman… She seems different to the low-lives and whores that I’m used to fucking on a drug-hazed lust spree. I don’t think she would fall for my cheap tricks and reputation bragging. But shit, she is so fucking beautiful.

‘Yeah, well in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m stuck in a fucking cell,’ I respond, my eyes still locked with hers, ‘and you didn’t answer my question. Are you my lover? Where did we-‘

‘Perhaps my employer was wrong about you,’ she interjects quietly, a frown spreading across her brow, ‘but since you’re not thinking with your brain, I’ll enlighten you. No, we have never met. I am here to extend a job offer and an opportunity to you. Nothing more.’ She pauses for a moment. ‘Meet me in Scrape’s Bar in the nearby settlement when you get out. I will only be there for a week, so that’s your time limit.’

‘What makes you think that I can get out of here?’

She grins once again.

‘That’s for you to work out. Consider this the start of your formal interview.’ Before I can start speaking, she plants her lips upon mine. Like her hands, they are impossibly soft for a wastelander. I slide my hand around her hips to her backside as we kiss, though she is quickly pulled away by Private Morris.

‘Right, that’s enough you two. Visiting time is over,’ he barks as he drags her away.

‘I’ll always love you!’ she calls over to me as she is dragged away, her voice back to mimicking concern. As she is dragged out, I feel something lingering on my tongue. I look around at the other prisoners who seem more intent on staring at the woman as she is escorted out. Opening my mouth, I reach in and pull out a pair of hair pins. I make my way casually back to my bed and place the clips within my mattress, using one of the many splits in the fabric to slot them in and conceal them. As I hear someone re-enter the corridor I stand up again and decide to take a look.

‘We’re going to have to search you,’ Sergeant Chase says with frustration as hereaches my cell, unlocking the door and making his way in, Morris standing outside with his rifle in hand. I just stand there as they search me for any extra items, suppressing a grin beneath a tired expression. Idiots.

‘He’s clear,’ Chase informs Morris as he leaves the cell and locks it back up. I can almost feel his disappointment as he walks away. The bastard just loves a good excuse to beat prisoners.

For now though, I need to sleep. If I am going to escape, I can’t do so when I am suffering from sleep deprivation.

I hate the fucking plumbing.