Dark Depths Campaign

Round 3
The Legendary Lifters call out the Saviours for the Narco Den
The Reign in Blood call out Backdraught for the Fighting Pit
The Sons of Samus call out the Venom Sirens for the Stinger Mold Sprawl



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Cawdor out to a very healthy lead. dominating the territories, credits and rep. No difference to the triumphs. The Escher still the leading slaughterer. 2 new gangs entering the campaign.. Enforcers and the some genestealer corrupted Orlocks!
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Game 3 CGC vs Van Saar.
Scenario: Forgotten riches
Bounty: Fighting pits

Dasnak's Pit

Soundtrack to Scene:


Some loose garbage breaks Expendable Youths fall.

“Shhhh what the hell are you doing man... They will hear us!”

Initiates, Dead Skin Mask, Silent Scream, and Expendable Youth sift their way through the garbage compactor slowly.

Silent Scream makes his way to the door and wipes clean a dirty name tag below a dull flickering lamp.

“Slavers Bay” he begins to try pry the locked door open.


All three initiates immediately freeze and turn to the long bellowing moan.

Some of the garbage moves as a slippery looking tentacle retracts back in into the unknown.

“f**k that shit! Open the god damn door man!!”

heavily motivated, the three work together to brute force the door as quickly as they can and collapse through it into the claustrophobic tunnels of Slavers Bay.

They sneak around the low-lit network scouting for anything of value.

Dead Skin Mask leans on a wall and it gives way as he tumbles over embracing the desiccated remains of a corpse. He promptly erects himself and dusts himself off.

One of the corpses eyes covered by a patch, it grasps at a casket of clear importance.

He pulls it gently away from the skeleton’s clutches.

“Thanks, One Eye Willy”

The other two also drag over some ornate looking crates.

Expendable Youth pipes up “looks like we scored fellas, who’s going to open one?”

The other two look straight at him.

“Aww c’mon its always me!. Damn!”

He crouches on a knee and starts to tinker with the locking mechanism.


“Crap!! We’re sprung!!”

An eager Van Saar Neotek seizes the opportunity to crash the party. He slides up on his grav cutter with pilot light lit ready to barbecue the three initiates with one fell swoop.

Thud thud thud thud thud…… huuunnnnggggghhhhh…

Expendable Youth whips his head round to the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and cops a boot on his back and one to the face.

Compressing his spine like a springboard, Flesh Storm launches himself from the initiates frame into the air connecting with the Neotek.

The force of the giant’s momentum knocking the Neotek clean from his steed. The horns from his helmet gouged firmly into the Neoteks chest.

As he comes to land the sound of freshly greased Butchers cleavers fire up in a cacophony of whirring and grinding as the Neotek meets his gory demise.

The SS3 had arrived.

Seeing his drug addled and enraged brother being lined up by some trailing Van Saar, War Ensemble lashes out with his Saw knocking another Neotek back into a wall. His saw buried in the Neoteks leg, crushing it, and fighting the resistance of the tissue.

Fleshstorm slowly stands proud and blindly fearless as if the great one was reaching out and touching his soul in a union of bliss and acceptance.

His blood drenched stare isn’t enough to deter an armored Van Saar champ that begins to line him up with some heavy ordinance.

Ready to meet his maker he accepts the incoming barrage.

Tink ….

A las shot deflects off his amour from the side.

An eager Van Saar juve gets in first allowing the mighty Fleshstorm to snap out of his lustful haze giving him enough time to slink to the floor and some much-needed cover.

The shot never comes and the tactical whispers and hand waves retreat.

Fleshstorm saunters back past the initiates to his liege.

As he passes Expendable Youth he quips.

“Thanks for the Assist”

The SS3 treat this area like a long-lost brother. The fighting pits they were sold to…. to rot in.

Angel confronts them.

“looks like the guilders haven’t bothered to restaff Slavers Bay after my last visit”

She saunters past the cells and holding bays running her fingers along the greasy walls clearing a singular smeared line.

“A mighty arena like this deserves a worthy title my liege” Seven Faces respectfully comments.

As she reaches the final cell she hears a shuffle.

A horribly disfigured Kroot lifts his head to greet her. Scars all over his body and face.

She cracks the cell and offers it some fresh meat and it snaps at the offer hungrily devouring all it can in desperation.

“Well looks like it speaks our language”

After it’s done it stands and reaches out a finger pointing to the room where the initiates came from.

In a deep raspy voice it speaks.

“Daaaaasnak…. Staaaaay oouuta”


“Dasnak’s Pit it is then”​
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Story 4 – Billy (Goliath vs Cawdor)

Chuck arrived outside of the Narco Den later than he expected. He had a prior engagement with some local settlement people and he’d given his Forge Boss’s orders to fight the Cawdor while he was away. As he rounded the corner, he saw two of his gangers hit the concrete from above, ‘Thud……. Thud…’. Lying on the ground was Joe Exotic and TPT (The Pain Train) both rubbing their heads after falling seven meters.

“Yeah… um…. Boss… uh… it… uh.. hasn’t gone well…” said Billy, also rubbing his head. “What!? What happened to you?”, questioned Chuck. Sheepishly Billy replied ‘I…. I fell too…”. Incredulously, Chuck stared at Billy deducing, that his gang had lost the fight. “Ok Billy, explain it to me while we get back to the rig”. The gang slowly walked back, and Billy regaled the story.

“It was that damn Cawdor Crossbowman!... we just got shot and shot and shot and shot at… then the guys got blown off the cat-walk and fell… then I tripped and fell too!”. Listening to the tale, Chuck stopped, “What, boss?... What?”. Chuck took in a deep breath and bust out laughing “Bwhahahahhahahahahha”, tears coming to his eyes he wiped them away, Chuck continued, “come on boys, Big Bubbas should have something to help drown your sorrows after that train wreck of a fight. Maybe we’ll do better next time, you fucking lead balloons…”.

As they continued to the stronghold, Chuck muttered to himself “You’d think they’d know their way around heights, considering they live on a fucking sump-rig….”.
Origins of the totally normal biker enthusiasts:

They say a cockroach on Terra can live three weeks with its head cut off, before it starves to death. A house gang is no different. The mighty House Orlock might be the toughest cockroaches in hive Primus, but sooner or later, being cut off from the house will always result in snake eyes.

“The Sump Hulk they call it, A place that the Clan Families want to plunder. It's ripe for the pickin's and y'all the crew picked for the task. Get in, set up a road and the families will make you richer than the emperor. They got your back.“

Lafontaine Broussard, Former Roadboss of the Creole Cajuns chuckled through the corner of his mouth. It was a wet and ugly sound, whistling through the tears in his cheek where the great ones Purestrain gift had punctured through. He clacked a clawed hand on the desk, as he thought back to that conversation, so many years ago. He had bought the lie hook line and sinker.

If only he hadn’t.

At first it had been like taking candy from a baby. The zone truly was ripe for the picking. Limited gang activity, a lot of wealth and no law to speak of. It was a road crews wet dream.

Until it wasn't .

When the collapse came, it came hard. The roadways they'd come to rely on collapsed in on themselves and cut the crew off from their supply lines To the upper hive. First one to show signs of nerves was Dirty Geech. He had family in sector 7. An old lady, depending on his cut to avoid starvation, and a little boy he barely knew. The thought of not being able to get back to them was enough to get him questioning the orders. LaFontaine beat him to death where he stood, choking him on his own teeth, shattered jaw and gouts of blood. It was a statement to the rest of the crew: No second chances, follow the boss or die.

It was another two months before LaFontaine started to realise maybe Dirty Geech was smarter than he looked. Help ain't coming, and we’s on our own. It was enough to make any boss despair. Without the patronage of the clan families, he didn't think that last another month. The ammo supplies were low the food stocks even worse. House Orlock lives and dies with its control of the supply lines. That's why they were called road crews; control the road, control the zone, trust the families to bail you out and keep the dual directional flow of wealth. But, For the first time in his life, LaFontaine was starting to realise what happens when the road is cut off, and more importantly, which way the wealth truly flows.

It was A couple of days later, when he first heard the voice. It was a whisper in the secret stash of despair he was fostering in his mind.

“We can help you survive. We can help you dominate. The strain is all.”

The same three sentences. Over and over again. At first there were whispers. Before long ,they were a crescendo; all he could think about. When he ate -if he ate, he heard them. On patrol he heard them. During dust ups, he heard them. When he slept, they screamed.

The moment he knew he had to search them out, was when he heard Cuckold Will, his trusted Arms Master whispering them to himself late one night in the camp. When he whispered them back, half the crew looked up from what they were doing and, as one, said “ The strain is All”. They left that night.

In the end, it weren’t that hard to find. After all, it had been calling to the crew for weeks. An unsuspecting sewer pipe, and a shadowy turn through sump vats, and he came face to face with the owner of the voice. It stared down at him, with soul piercing yellow orbs. It unclenched two gigantic claws and lifted Lafontaine up like a rag doll, bringing his face level with its open maw. An inhuman voice boomed in his mind, tearing him down to his fundamentals.

“dO yOu FoRsAkE AnD sUbMiT?”

Lafontaine Stared back, and said

“The strain is all.”

After that, the crew rebranded. They couldn’t be The Creole Cajuns no more. That crew had history and people who may come lookin. No they needed to be more discrete. “The Blackwell Biker Enthusiast”; non-descript, non-threatening, barely worth turning your head to consider. A spiders web of appearances of weakness and an easy target, and one that far too many gangs looking to expand got caught in over the following years. After all, The Strain Was All.

For 6 generations the crew went about their new God’s work, slowly warping into hybrid mirrors of their benefactors image. Brother Gumbo was the first to grow an additional arm, and by the end, also the most unrecognizable. -But each had their tell. After a few years, none could risk being seen in the lumin strips of day, but that’s what the new “recruits” were for… and they were legion.

It had been one week since the recon juves had brought news back of the quakes opening up the old roadways. 7 days since the Bikers had found out that their well justified revenge for abandonment and condemnation by the clan could finally be sought. But that no longer mattered to “The Master”, or Lafontaine Broussard, as he had formally been known. He wasn’t concerned with petty revenge, only expansion, control and ultimately, DOMINANCE.

He clicked his claw once more, and let out a final wet chuckle

“The Strain is all. Time to go to work.”
// Happy to take comments and criticisms on my writing as well! Probably in PM/Direct messages so as to not clog the thread //
// The local Reach citizenry decide enough is enough, and make their own band of Enforcers - ready to kick the ne'er-do-wells out this quiet peaceful part of the hulk! //

“This cog’s stubbed, Top. Throne damn it.” Colux announced matter-of-factly to the group, frustration only expressed in word choice alone. He stood up from behind the cog-locked box, and started brushing it. There was a sense of duty in the cleaning, as if removing a layer of dust, grime, rust and detritus would suddenly rouse the machine spirit in the cogitator to life. Ventarion sighed internally, he didn’t want to express his frustration audibly to the rest of the group – one person complaining was enough.

He stood akimbo, staring at the crate for a moment, knowing full well what was about to happen next, yet hoping it wouldn’t have come to this. “Avikus,” Ventarion said with some feigned curiousity “You’re up.” They swapped places, Ventarion taking watch in the threshold while Avikus slipped passed him, unshouldering a bag. He endeavoured to place it down gently, but the Rock saw and power pack still clanged loudly against the floor. Colux got out of his way and stood next to Ventarion, watching the other direction. He was there for every what and why, yet he still wasn’t sure exactly how they found themselves in this position. He needed reassurance, so he asked Ventarion. “How exactly did we end up here?”

“Helis, bless the youth, found the access hatch in Hab Block 17C, we crawled through Helmwar’s intestines, ran through those darkened arcades with Throne knows what chasing us, Mectus guided us through the Precinct’s maintenance hatch to the armoury. Now Telio is watching that hatch with his brick to make sure no one followed us… Solabus and Scaras are at the end of this hallway in long-security, see the glow-globe there? You and me are here on short-security, and Avikus is about to piss off Helmwar with a Rock saw.”

Ventarion knew this wasn’t what Colux meant, but he had hoped he wouldn’t get into that conversation right now

“That’s not what I meant, Top.”
Colux quipped back, he only used ‘Top’ to refer to Ventarion when he was frustrated… Which seemed to be all the time, now that Ventarion thought about it. This time ‘Top’ did sigh out loud, but still didn’t turn to face each other. Tarion was the groups leader, and if he was about to break his watch to have a conversation, that’s a dangerous precedent to set.

“You’ve seen what they did to the Reach.”
“Yeah, I K-“ Colux began, only to be interrupted.
“You saw what happened to our people.”
“Top, I-“ Colux tried again…
“We felt the quake, saw The Path open and suddenly we all had hope again, Col.”
“I ge-” Colux persisted.
“No.” Ventarion said sternly, this time facing Colux. “You don’t, because if you really got it, you wouldn’t ask…” Ventarion thrusted his words like bayonets. “This can’t go on, we can’t let that scum have Reach – any one of those bottom feeding abhumans! Throne curse them for what they’ve done in such a short amount of time. The Reach was safe!”
“But how did it end up being us?” Colux turned to face Ventarion, unable to shoulder the burning stare into his back. His voice still low, slightly wavering at the realisation that they were actually beyond the point of no return… As if it was news to him.

“If not us, then who? Duty beckoned from somewhere within each of us. If we don’t answer, then what are we? Cowards? Traitors? Without duty, we’re nothing – we’re worse than those skinwearing freaks out there, or the juiced up abhumans, at least they are pure of purpose and willing to fulfill it. We chose to step forward and keep Reach safe. That’s how we ended up here.” Ventarion was pontificating, yet he could see Colux’s resolve steel behind his eyes.

Before either one of them could say any more, the power pack glow filled the room as it chimed to life. “Going loud.” Avikus barked, the rock saw tore itself to life. The argument switched from Ventarion and Colux, to a Rock saw, and a locked box of equipment.

The Sump hulk Scourers had made their presence known. Now they had to reclaim The Reach.

// Sometime after //

“Av?” Ventarion said as Avikus crossed entered into the precinct. The tone included everything that Ventarion thought. *Where the hell were you? Being late sets a bad example, and what the hell was more important?*

“Yeah Vent, I know.” Av’s words fell out of his mouth like trash falls out of your pocket, carelessly, absentmindedly, and without regard to its portents. Ventarion took a sharp inhale, but knew better than to argue with Av. His trusted man was reliable down to his last breath, fiercely loyal, and piously tight lipped – his only drawback was that he was of singular purpose, and was purely outcomes driven.

Ventarion followed him as they tracked through the dim walls of the abandoned precinct. Painted lines that dictated paths, colour coded to different destinations, could still be seen on the walls – underneath eons of rust and grime. Every light either flickered, or was so dim it didn’t count. Their footsteps echoed off the walls and low ceiling, and as if some titan of war wanted to reply, reports of stubguns echoed back.

“Gave the pups teeth?” Avikus joked. Ventarion chuckled, and replied “They lack confidence in themselves, what they’re doing, and the team – giving them firepower will make them feel stronger, and it’s skill we can give them quickly.” Avikus simply raised an eyebrow… Ventarion chalked it up to curiosity. “You’re the boss, Vent.”

After a few minutes of silence gearing up in the armoury, they walked into the firing range. They cleaned the armour and weapons as best they could when they first busted open the equipment lockers. They looked odd against the dilapidated precinct, and seeing them gathered in it’s walls make the team look like gemstones in a muckpile.

Scaras was leading a weapons familiarity drill for the greenest brick, Sanctum 3-3: Telio, Mectus and Helis. “Cease fire!” Scaras called as the door ground open, with Ventarion and Av walking in. Ventarion nodded upwards at Scaras, who knew the question.

“Not yet, but they will be – give me time. Giving Helis the conc’ is the right call – precision isn’t his strong suit.” Scaras called across the firing booths, with Sanctum 3-3 between them. Helis leant back and looked at Scaras, then Vent in return. His helmet was blank, but everyone could see the insult leaking out of the suit. Credit to Helis, he kept his weapon pointed down range and mouth shut. You can’t ask more from a recruit.

“Webbing’s loose, Helis.” Avikus said, disappointedly. Helis wasn’t wearing webbing, yet he still looked down to check it. Ventarion knew what Avikus was up to.

“We’re not your priority either.” Ventarion said sternly. Helis was doubly confused, and kept looking between Avikus and Ventarion. Scaras couldn’t take it, and explained it to him.

“Throne curse you Helis, watch your sector!” He raised his voice, and stomped towards him. Helis was now staring at him, and they were almost helmet to helmet. Scaras could see his eyes through both sets of lenses, fear shining through them. Scaras grabbed his helmet across the face, and yanked it down the firing range.

“THAT! Is your sector! That impious ganger out there is the one trying to kill you! You know you’re not wearing webbing, why are you checking it? Pay attention, or you’ll get Telio fragged! Telio doesn’t want to be fragged!”

Ventarion looked at Avikus during this exchange, and said “They’ll be ready Av.” As he slipped on his helmet. Avikus didn’t even look, just clenched his jaw in reply and put his helmet on.

They both knew Ventarion was saying that to reassure himself.

// Gang moot Casual to follow! //
// Gang moot rumble in the steel jungle //

“They won’t buy it, you’ll get fragged, and I’ll have to drag your corpse out of here. They only understand violence, and power.” Avikus said, his words steeped in venom.

Ventarion dropped the mag on his bolter, dumping it into a mag pouch. He did a brass check to ensure he had one in the chamber, and flicked on his safety. “You don’t know that Avikus, ultimately they are God-Emperor fearing Citizens, we just have to remind them.” Ventarion replied.

Ventarion, Avikus, Helis and Mectus were gathered near Astartes Plaza, huddled under an outcrop of a hab-block, strategizing. Avikus turned to Helis, and asked him “Helis, what’s the plan?”

“Sanctum 2-1 and 3-3 take cover here on this side of the walkway, on overwatch. Sanctum 3-2 takes elevation bearing 270 from here taking medium security. Sanctum 1-1 crosses walkway to Astartes Plaza – err Waypoint 1 – and engages the Citizenry with a move on notice… If the situation evolves into the kinetic kind, I, Sanctum 3-3, regroup with 3-2 on the high ground and maintain flank and long security. You, Sanctum 2-1 will regroup with 1-1 and fall back to here. Then we fight a peeling retreat.”

Helis said confidently, he wasn’t wrong for once. “That’ll do. Move to ready positions.” Avikus barked. Mectus climbed the ladder, and shouldered his way through a hab. Shock Baton charged but off, stubgun holstered. Helis took cover behind a barrel and readied his sidearm, Avikus drew his stub and baton, and took cover behind a pillar.

Ventarion took his helmet off, and clipped it to his belt. He left the vox clipped in he started the trek across the walkway.

“Stupid, Boss. No mag, no Helmet.” Avikus quipped on the private channel. Ventarion ignored him as he looked down, a sludge riverbed had mostly dried up. In front of him was a plaza, an intersection of concrete barricades and a weak glowglobe on a post. In the distance a statue of an Astartes reached for the heavens, covered in the same filth the rest of the place was. To the left and up high was a walkway, and Ventarion pointed at it.

“Seen, eyes on.” Mectus replied through the vox. Ventarion spotted a rotting Ridge Runner under a sheet, tyres slashed and suspension rusted solid. He vaulted on top, and waited for the parasites to come. It didn’t take long, and they started doing a headcount. Less than half those they invited arrived, except they gained one group they hadn’t seen before.

“Who invited the shorties?” Helis joked, Avikus replied “Unknown. Popular party.” Ventarion surveyed the leaders, getting stuck on the one to his left… he couldn’t pick the material of the skirt, then paled and looked away once he realised what it was… Skin. He couldn’t even picture the rest of what they were wearing, his mind refusing to accept the information. He decided he needed to speak before his spine turned to jelly, and fled him.

“Blackwell Reach was a quiet, safe, community. Before the quake. Once the path opened, we invited you, who we thought were our long lost brethren, into our homes with open arms. Emperor praise us we were welcoming.” Ventarion shouted across the plaza “And you took us for spineless xeno. Claiming territory, kidnapping our people, and spreading violence and bloodshed across the streets…” Now his words were laced with hatred, and he threatened: “We’re the Scourers. Blackwell Reach belongs to us, and now it’s time for you to leave.”

The fleshcult witch to his left screamed, and made a move at the muscle mountain to his right. Ventarion clicked off his safety, shouldered, aimed, and fired his boltgun within a second of her moving. The entire plaza paused, something deep and distant in the hulk groaned and there was just enough time for Ventarion to think *The Titan of War calls.*

Then it went kinetic. The witch leapt over a barricade, swords and claws flashing. Ventarion dropped to the roof of the Runner and rolled off, slamming a magazine and charging his boltgun once he hit the ground. He shot up, and fired indiscriminately into the evolving melee.

Helis bolted after Ventarion’s shot rang out, scrambling up the ladder “MOVING!” he bellowed into his vox, barely able to breath from the adrenaline dump strangling his vocal chords.

“Advancing!” Avikus roared into his vox, dashing across the bridge as fast as he could go. There wasn’t any cover on that bridge, and Ventarion needed back up – who was still pumping round after round into the melee. Soon, another ganger popped up from a nearby rooftop and adding their fusillade of fire into the clash of flesh, steel, bone and might. Avikus caught up and decelerated violently by slamming into the vehicle. His Stub gun barking as he sought cover.

“This is going about as well as that ti-“ Avikus started.
“I KNOW!” Ventarion yelled over his boltgun.

Helis got to the top of the ladder and bounded through the hab. He stopped himself by crashing into a threshold, and spun out with his stubgun pointed at the walkway Ventarion pointed at minutes ago. Mectus was just in front of him, seemingly unaware at what was happening. A flash erupted from an opening on the walkway, and Helis, remembering his training, spoke first.

“Contact front!” firing wildly at the muzzle flash. Mectus now seemed alert, and yelled back “I see him! Engaging”

Mectus tore through a sheet draped in a threshold, and with a swing from the hips, caught the stout, armoured and armed ‘citizen’ across the back of the legs. He roared like an animal as he pummelled him, the sheer violence of action overpowering any counter blows. Mectus rain blows with his baton down on the figure below him.

Ventarion and Avikus were up and leaning against the Runner, dumping their mags when a sudden shock smacked them both in the back. Sparks flew as rounds ricocheted off their flak armour, followed by spurts of blood from shallow flesh wounds in the soft underlay. Curses followed suit as they both dove to the ground, with Avikus yelling. “Contact rear!”

Ventarion was on his stomach and he rolled over onto his back, lightning bolts of pain shot through him and he pushed himself up against the car. Blood smearing up the side of the door as he forced his legs to work, the pain gave him tunnel vision and he scanned to try and break it – cycling his half empty mag for a full mag, that’s when he caught the scum covering behind some heavy equipment. Ventarion flicked his fun switch to full-auto, and sprayed the agri-mover. “Covering!” he barked at Avikus, who leapt to his feet and was ready to pounce, instead he gestured cease fire at Ventarion – there was a large pool of blood, and the master paintwork of flesh that was signature of a bolt round catching meat. The pause let them both feel the blood oozing out of their own wounds – albeit superficial, they needed them sealed sooner rather than later. The clash of swords nearby reminded them that they weren’t safe, they looked over the bonnet of the vehicle and another one of those flesh wearers screamed passed, diving into the melee.

Helis yelled over the comms to Mectus “Magnacles!” Mectus heard him, holstered his stub gun and slapped the restraints on the figure with ease. Helis jogged up to them, and without breaking stride, kicked the figure across the face. He stopped at the other side of the room, and the two rookies looked at each other a moment – both covered in blood and a few teeth, none of which was theirs. The boltgun below snapped them out of it, and the threw themselves at nearby openings, pouring fire down below. There was no addressee, the rounds were simply marked “To whom it may concern.”

Ventarion spotted another giant across the plaza break out of cover and about to throw into the melee, he levelled his boltgun and double tapped the figure. Almost like a crude composition, the double report of the boltgun was met by a double report of the rounds detonating deep within.

Avikus leapt over the vehicle and a barricade, hurling himself at the last giants of men still in the plaza. You better remember our deal. He thought to himself. Av kept his shock baton off, keeping his end of the bargain, flanked around so Ventarion couldn’t see him, and swung at these Goliaths – yet he pulled his blows, trying not to cause injury.

The retaliation, Avikus reckoned, was definitely a pulled punch. It crumpled him like a bag of starch-plants, his ears rung as he slid across the floor and his breath went for a walk. He stayed motionless, not just because that was what was agreed… but he genuinely feared what a real blow would feel like. He tried to remain conscious as the last two charged Ventarion, but his vision narrowed to a tiny circle, and consciousness failed him.

Sanctum 1-1 levelled his bolter again, firing controlled pairs. The rounds ricocheted off the front plate of this hulking monstrosity that tore towards him. One round hit the ground and kicked up dirt, the other ricocheted a few more times, trailing white smoke, before the delayed impact fuse detonated the round mid air. A death firework.

Ventarion’s mind fractured in two. He suddenly felt he was watching himself from somewhere nearby. He continued to pump round after round at this creature that barrelled towards him, his body on fight-or-flight autopilot instincts. This other part of him knew he wasn’t long for this world. He didn’t feel the impact, not at that moment.

// a quiet nap later //

“Top?” Ventarion heard from somewhere far away, followed by a sound of metal raking stones. The sound occurred a few more times, when a dull ache in his chest bloomed to intense pain, and his back felt it had been stabbed dozens of times. He snapped back to reality, and found himself being dragged in the dried up sludge bed. He looked up, Mectus had him by the armpits, and when he looked right, Telis was carrying Avikus. How?

// some time after the gang moot //

“How is this not a betrayal, Av?” Ventarion spat, clutching his chest while Col checked the bandages across his back.
“Because we’re alive. It was a stupid plan, Boss.” Av replied matter of factly.
“What gave you the right to make a deal?” Ventarion rasped, as blood rose in his throat. He coughed it out, Avikus patiently waiting for silence to respond.
“Simple Ventarion. I couldn’t let us die out there. We didn’t stand a chance.”
“He’s not wrong, Top… You weren’t exactly listening.” Col added.

Ventarion hated them both. They were right, yet they were also so wrong. If one of his own was willing to deal with them, and pay them… They weren’t any better. The filter between his brain and mouth failed.

“Then we aren’t any better.” Ventarion was back to preaching.
“We are boss. We ain’t kidnapping, killing, or wearing skin. They’re bad guys, we put them down. If we’re dead, that’s more bad guys doing more bad stuff. I saw a lot of them put down out there, cost me a few creds is all. Seems black and white to me.” Avikus spoke about morality like it was arithmetic, just add it up. No one spoke for a moment, and Col finished reapplying he bandages to Ventarion, he walked across to Avikus to start on him, but got caught halfway.

“Avikus is onto something here.” Col mused out loud, still stationery. “We can pit them against each other – if we’re fighting all of them at once, we lose. That’s a straight sum… What if we take from the strong and give to the weak – take a bit off the top. We can keep them fighting each other, and as we get bigger, push them out of Reach. One at a time.”

Ventarion’s hatred boiled inside him, because they were right.

They were too weak, and if he grandstanded on ideology, they would get cut down effortlessly by all gangs. There had to be a line…

“No innocents.” Ventarion said as he deflated.

“Never.” Col replied.

“There aren’t any.” Avikus pontificated.

We decided to have a 5 player Gang Moot scenario to introduce "The Sumphulk Scourers" who are Blackwell Reachs makeshift enforcers. They almost quelled the fight but the Venators broke the deal and made their life difficult. By the time they had dispatched some justice the Goliath leader had proved to be an incarnation of the real Chuck Norris and just couldnt be taken down by anyone.





Round 4

Territory Revealed

Scourers (enforcer template) call out the Legendary Lifters (goliath) Mine Workings
Blackwell Biker enthusiats (orlock/gsc) call out Venom sirens (escher) Drinking Hole
Sons of Samus (delaque) call out the Saviours (Cawdor) Tunnels

Legendary lifters (goliath) call out the Reign in Blood (cgc) Gambling Den
Backdraught (vsaar) call out Venom Sirens (escher) Genatorium
Reign in Blood (cgc) call out the Blackwell Biker Enthusiasts (orlock/gsc) Corpse Farm

Venom Sirens (escher) call out the Scourers (enforcer template) Settlement
The Saviours (cawdor) call out Backdraught (vsaar) Rogue Doc Shop

Full results to come when all the games have been played.
*"I don't get it.. What am i looking at?" *

*"Wait for it...." *
Angel crouches beside Seven Faces at their vantage point as they survey the terrain below them.

A winding river cuts two slimy banks of waste. A moaning ferrous bridge connects the lands and leads down to a dockland where a factory pumps plumes of waste gases into the air.

A weighted boom door temporarily swings open like dam doors. The pressure of rotten cadaver wastage and blood stained brown water too much to hold as they release down a chute into the flowing river.

Moments later the sound of burbling road hogs can be heard and bike headlights begin to span the decrepit bridge.

"My Liege we must act now"

"Patience Seven Faces" She motions to below the bridge pointing out several of the cults initiates who are quietly climbing up the bridge abutments already...


Toll Bridge scenario

Soundtrack to scene:

The bikes engines cut.

Plumes of red smoke engulf the south side of the bridge.

Aside from the slow churn of a hydropower turbine from the dockside farm an eerie silence fills the gap.


A rapid lick of flame bursts from the smoke lighting up an eager biker making a run for the middle of the bridge.


In return fire a grenade bounces around in the smoke just tipping itself off the edge of the bridge before detonating and throwing Spirit in Black onto the floor behind the railings.

Out of the smoke a tazered bull charges with its horns down spearheading the assault. Fleshstorms hunger starting to become so insatiable it would be only a matter of time that he would leave himself open for a savvy counter and meet his maker. He was the blunt instrument Angel needed though.

Angel signals up the full force of the lodge. The Corpse farm now locked in her sights. Appearing with absolute determination she knows she must never show any signs of despair to the cult. She does her best to push aside the fear of in-fighting and starvation if they fail.

Expendable youth eagerly leading on Angel to the centre of the bridge.

“We have this We have this almighty great one!” he begins to celebrate prematurely, completely oblivious to the incoming airborne projectile.

Angel braces behind the initiate who is forcibly blasted out from his feet and metres off the bridges edge with a sharp Wilhelm scream.

Survival of the fittest.


Silent Scream providing cover fire from a vantage point almost parallel to the bridge. A biker drops, and her gun jams. It was once a gun of excellent quality. Sadly she would never have the tools to maintain it properly or return it to its former glory, but she was resourceful enough to make it work. Another shot another target drops. No one the wiser to this scrappy sniper.


Fleshsorms bullcharge finally connects with a biker and removes his consciousness from the bridge. He then gets directly hit by an overcharged plasma bolt and a blasting charge. He crumbles back on the staircase balustrade bleeding from multiple sites. Just as he steadies his feet to impetuously push on some rifle fire unsteadies him again and he falls from the bridge knocking himself out cold.

Dead Skin Mask and Spirit in Black barely cling to the bridge in another blasting charge assault. shrapnel ripping at their exposed flesh and the blast mildly concussing them.

Spirit in Black on his back about to pass out.
A blurry silhouette of Angels facemask enters his vision as she lifts him up. Caring for his wellbeing a false veil from a figurehead that’s now devoid of empathy.

War Ensemble reaches the other side. His heavy boot making a statement as it slams to the mainland. His hulking frame and the ice-cold stare from his reflective metallic helmet enough to turn the bikers to retreat. The lone teardrop forged into his helmet a chilling insight of a past life of sorrow.


Great models and scenery to go with a fun battle report. But…. What heresy is this?!? An unpainted model?!? And it’s successful?!?
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Great models and scenery to go with a fun battle report. But…. What heresy is this?!? An unpainted model?!? And it’s successful?!?
I know right! The real heresy right there. Pains me on a level for sure.. sadly this campaign is going the same as the last one.. all of us playing with incomplete minis and terrain.. it doesn’t help that I have been super lucky with my settlement rolls. irl always seems to get in the way these days. My bet is we get everything finished right at the end like the last campaign 😂
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// Sometime after the gangmoot, the Scourer's set out for revenge... And the first actual campaign game! //

“Legendary Lifters, you sure?” Ventarion asked Colux with some disbelief. “Colux’s report matches my contact.” Avikus said, staring at the crate they were using for a table and not meeting anyone’s gaze. Telios looked around at everyone trying to get a read of the situation – this was the first official briefing of the ‘head of the precinct.’ Avikus and Telios were there as Brick Leaders, Sanctum 2-1 and 3-1 respectively. Colux was there as 1-2, deputy commander, and Ventarion, of course, as Sanctum 1-1 or Sanctum Actual.

“Mectus is still at the Observation Post.” Colux added, as if it added clarity. Ventarion paused a moment, and decided to use this as a learning opportunity. “Alright Telios, what’s the play?”

Telios looked at him, at the other two, then looked at the map they had laid out. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly, and let the plan formulate out loud.

“We catch them here, on this street… We’ve got elevation both sides. Hit the front and back simultaneously with concussion carbines to bottle them up, and go kinetic from there… We’ll have to be careful of the crossfire. Especially if they counter attack.”

“When,” Ventarion interjected, Telios had come a long way. He had a halfway decent plan that would work, there were a few flaws, but they were readily teachable: “Not a bad read – however they will counter attack, right through these entrances. We’ll be point blank, bottled in a tight space against then, and we’ve proven they don’t go down easy. Avikus, how would you do it?”


“Speed and Violence of Action. The moment those carbines hit, double time it.” Avikus said on his local channel as he drew his stub, and charged his shock baton. He was crouched behind a MechLifter they parked in the middle of the street, he looked to his left at Scaras behind a dumpster, press checking his shotgun, who nodded in reply. He looked to his right, and Telios was behind another MechLifter, and he nodded back.

Avikus activated his vox.

“Sanctum 2-1 to Sanctum 1-1: Hammer is ready.” Ventarion clicked his vox in reply. Mectus had confirmed a party of lifters was heading their way, and they laid in ambush.He was sat against the balustrade on the roof of a building, he visually checked in with his element. Helis and Solabus were next to him, confirming their concussion carbines were loaded, for the fortieth time – he understood the need though. He looked to his left, further across the roof and saw Colux with his rifle resting on a crate. Colux was near the middle of the roof, so his muzzle didn’t stick out over the edge and become a flag that catches the eye.

Ventarion spun into a crouch, and went to eyeball defilade. Their 2 story building was nestled in one of the corners of a T junction, and he looked ahead at the cross of the T. He could see high-dens-habs across the road to his left, the garage to his front down the cross of the T, and to his right and below was Sanctum 2-1 in Hammer Formation, hiding amongst the detritus.

The intersection itself had become a breeding pit of rubble, every time he looked back yet another hole or piece of cover seemed to materialise. Even with their height advantage, there were still a couple of places to hide. It was a better spot to lay a trap than up the road by the garage. There were dozens of entries to that building right next to the street, and if the Lifters wanted to fight, Sanctum would be bottled in the building fighting in close quarters.

Top squinted at the thought, then sat back down. He waited until they Colux said he had eyes on.


“Sanctum 2-1 to all on this vox, I have visual… 4 foot mobiles, 3-4 unaccounted for.” Colux said, as if reciting a grocery list.

“Stand-to.” Ventarion jabbed through the vox, and he could feel the muscles tense through the air of the Scourers next to him. Their hearts pounding loud enough that all of Reach could set their Chrono’s to it. They were all crouched under the balustrade, Ventarion poking just his eyes over.

“Check your targets, watch the crossfire. Big ones up the back, he’s yours Col. Confirm distance and impact fuses on your carbines now… On my mark.” Sanctum 1-1 rattled off through the vox, he was starting to mimic his boltgun – controlled bursts at all times.

He heard the carbines to his left and right click and whirr as the safety catches were removed, and the charges became alive. They were all huddled against their cover, peaking over, waiting for the callsign. Ventarion only counted four, about half of Mectus’ report. He chalked up that they were heading another way… He weighed up his options, and decided he couldn’t pass on this.

The group of Lifters entered the intersection and seemed to pause for a moment. Ventarion levelled his bolter, then called on his vox, and let slip the beasts of revenge.

“Fury. Fury. Fury.”

Both carbines went off at the same time, there was a fwoomp mixed in with a capacitor discharging as the rounds sailed through the air. They detonated straight in the middle, throwing lifters left and right. Their teeth slammed together as Colux fired his rifle, the shockwave of the muzzle blast kicking dust off their armour. The giant Lifter took the round in the back and was thrown against a wall, crumpling against the floor. The impact threw sparks, rubble and blood in a small shower around the sight.

“Target down.” Colux called as his single spent casing chimed off the crates nearby. Ventarion saw one still standing, and fired off a burst. The bolt shells impacted hard, detonating a moment later and sending the youthful Lifter bleeding into the muck.
Avikus was up and over when he saw the carbines firing, his armoured boots kicking up clouds of grime and filth as he charged forward. He was sprinting as fast as he could, he needed to get on top of them before they regrouped. Somehow, Scaras out paced him. A few meters to Av’s left he could see and hear Scaras tearing up the street, arms pumping as they held on to his shotgun.

Scaras’ vox was off, and Avikus could still hear a deluge of insults being roared through the helmet. Avikus was gasping for air when he slammed into a wall for cover, a few meters short of the Lifter’s position. Through the filter, mask and distance he could almost taste the hatred that flowed from Scaras.

The shotgunner bounded over some cover and slowed his pace slightly, mid stride he levelled his shotgun and began firing at a lifter in cover… Scaras was now laughing uncontrollably… He used the recoil to help him pump the action, even consumed by a combat high, his surgical shotgun performance shone through. As the last round of his magazine barked out of the muzzle, he threw something at the Lifter in cover. Avikus was confused at this sight – they only found a cache of smoke grenades in their hunt so far.

Scaras yelled “I’ve got a present for you!” a flash grenade went off, and Scaras ducked to avoid it’s blast. Avikus couldn’t watch anymore as the wall he was hiding behind began kicking up rock and dust – a Lifter was up and returning fire. He dove for cover, feeling the impacts through the wall and his armour. Avikus was only temporarily safe. He looked around for a way to change his situation.

Telios was behind him and to his right, he hopped over the forks of a MechLifter and stopped by a RockCrete barricade. He fired at the Lifter, and they both drove each other quiet.

Avikus pulled himself to his feet, Scaras and Telios too preoccupied to respond to any orders. Sanctum 2-1 checked his weapons, and threw himself around the corner, ready to pummel the bleeding Lifters.

“Cease fire! Stand down!” Ventarion bellowed across the vox. Avikus stood in the street and watched as could see pools of blood growing. Lifters dozens of meters away dragging their fallen comrades out of there.

Scaras was hyperventilating, head darting around, making sure the sectors were clear. Meanwhile, his arms were loading his shotgun, and Avikus could see that dissociation between his rational cognitive brain, the adrenaline fuelled beast, and the muscle memory all vying for control. All were losing.

“Sanctum 2-2” Avikus shot at Scaras, who didn’t quite register. He walked over and shoved him in the shoulder. “Sanctum 2-2! Stand down!” he said louder, trying to combat the auditory exclusion. Scaras came to and took a few deep breaths, looked down as he suddenly felt tremors in his arms rising ever so slowly. Telios regrouped with them, and nodded for them to head back to Ventarion.


“We had the beasts dead. They wouldn’t do the same.” Avikus said flatly, Colux nodded. Ventarion sighed, and replied as best as he could.

“We set out to prove a point, and it was made. We showed them that they can’t beat us down for free, and we’ll bring Righteous Vengeance down on anyone who gets in the way of peace.”

Colux scoffed “Simplest way is putting them down, be a lot quieter out here without them.”

“We’re not murders, Col.” Ventarion spat, hating the comparison Col drew between mindless hounds and fellow humans, no matter how grotesque.

“But they are, Ventarion – they know it, and they’ll make sure you know it. You might not have the stomach for it, but they do, and so do I.” Avikus said, as if reciting an Emperor’s Litany. Practiced, rehearsed, and just enough passion so you can believe it.

The vox in the corner sparked to life, it was Mectus. “Sanctum 3-2 to Sanctum Actual.”

Ventarion activated the vox “Go ahead 3-2.”

“They’re still here sir, and people are listening to them. These streets are theirs now. Please advise.”

Avikus’ faced said it all, and Col simply got up and left the room.

“Bring it in 3-2. We’re done here.”

// Lifters won by sneaking off the board edge on Ambush, got lucky with the deployment rolls! Oh well, onto the next one... Maybe we can fair better against the dreaded Venom Sirens!
// Sometime after the Ambush on Lifting Avenue //

“Now you’re getting the hang of this, Top.” Avikus said with a little cheer in his voice. They had a date with the Venom Sirens, and Ventarion learned his lesson. He knew they weren’t going to talk, and he knew they weren’t going to back down. It was going to be a blood bath. They needed professional help.

“So what do I call him?” Ventarion said, nursing his drink at a bar. Avikus’ face dropped, and he said back with frustration in his voice. “Come on, Top. No names. Goes by Grave this time. You prattle on about Vox-Cols, and here you’re asking the mans name. That’s not how this works.”

Ventarion frowned at his drink, wondering what precisely it was distilled from. He decided not to think about it much longer.

“We think about the things quite differently. Remind me, what was it that you did before you became a Scourer?” Ventarion prodded.

“I never told you, Top.” Avikus said as he scanned the bar, deflecting the interaction completely.

“Never will either, I suspect.” Ventarion mused out loud. “So what’s your contact capable of then?”

This time Avikus met his gaze.

“How much can we pay him?”


“Scaras, take Mectus and Telios and secure the right flank – there’s a path in there I don’t like.” Ventarion snapped as the three broke off, with Scaras leading from the front.

“Col and I will set a base of fire here-“ gesturing to the cover nearby “Avikus, take Grave, Helis and Solabu, take and hold that cat walk up there. Once set on security, we’ll bound passed you, call set. Carry on till we’ve cleared the area.”

His voice was controlled bursts. As the Scourer’s started moving out, Avikus called out short and sharp over the vox

“Contact front!”

Everyone dove for cover, Ventarion and Col began scanning front – only seeing the occasional movement, no solid targets. Helis was watching as well, a little further up ahead near a stair case.

“Eyes on, moving to engage!” He spat as he shot up, bounding up the stairs reading his concussion carbine. Once he got to the top, he placed a perfect blast near the Siren, and threw him to the ground.

Then all warp broke loose.

Helis was sprayed by gun fire they didn’t recognise, he grunted and hit the deck. Solabus tore up the staircase and he spotted a few Sirens up high raining fire down on them, he lobbed a blast grenade at them and drove a few of them back. Ventarion leapt over his cover and bounded up the stairs, boltgun kicking in his hands as he got to their platform.

“Helis!” He roared at the shape near his feet, over the gunfire. Avikus and Grave advanced while they interacted on a small platform

“I’m fine, throne that hurts, I’m up!” Helis coughed from the ground.


Scaras lead the group further right through the passage.

“Door” Mectus called, and Telios gestured for them to stack on it. They went 2-1. Mectus hit the panel and they went guns first – an empty room, with another door. They stacked on that one, and same drill. They opened the door to find a large cavernous door already open, wondering who had been there before.
They blinked, and suddenly a Siren was on them. Scaras, of all people, didn’t even have time to pull the trigger, he was too busy wailing and bucking as skin and flesh was being flayed off of him through his armour.

“DOOR!” Telios roared at Mectus, Scaras managed to find a breather in the onslaught and began unloading his shotgun. The first fearsome Siren began to retreat, and a second raced at them. Scaras walked backwards, letting the shotgun recoil push him backwards as his strength waned. The door slammed shut as the younger siren was peppered with Shredder rounds, they just managed to avoid being cut in half, as they bled out in the room.

“What in thrones name was that thing?” Mectus bumbled, the fear in his voice dripping through the helmet’s cracks.

Scaras panted, each breath squeezed more blood out of him.

“It hates shotgun as much as the next.” Scaras could barely stand, he stumbled over the passed out Siren as he approached the door. “Stack on the door.”

Mectus and Telios looked at each other than back at Scaras.

“You want that thing cutting down rest of Sanctum? This is it. Right here. Us, or our friends. What’ll it be?” Scaras coughed, and blood came out splattering his helmet. It leaked out from under it, he leant against the wall, pointed his shotgun at the door, and nodded for them to open it. Telios lead the way.


“Get ready to pay me!” Grave called back, he bounded up the ladder with frightening speed and clash swords with a smaller Siren. He had the upperhand, but couldn’t cut them down.

Ventarion swore as Grave was blocking their shots, and there were a lot of sirens on the upper ground. They were still in a raging firefight with some Sirens on high ground, Colux’s rifle acting as a metronome to the orchestra of ballistics. Ventarion was about to call a fallback to a better position, he turned to Solabus just to see a round go clean through his breastplate.

“SOL!” Ventarion roared, he grabbed him and raced down the stairs, ignoring all protocol. All he could hear was Helis’ carbine on every up beat, with Col’s rifle on every downbeat. He got to the bottom of the stairs and watched over Solabus, who was unconscious. Ventarion swore and swore, and slowly found himself going deaf.

It isn’t worth this. It’s not worth any of it.

Solabus was still breathing, and Ventarion snapped back into it. He turned around in time to see Grave cut down by the lead Venom Siren. Avikus was thrown against a bulkhead from a shotgun blast. The Venom Siren leader was coming for them next. He knew that it was over.

“All Sanctum Callsigns, fall back!”

Ventarion charged forward and took cover by the stairs, and began emptying magazine after magazine from his boltgun. Helis crumpled down the stairs. No controlled bursts, no honed anger – only an unyielding sense of panic gripped him as they fought a retreat.


“Telios’ arm snapped in a few places Top, and most of Avikus’ ribs were fractured – they’ll be okay, we’ve got the supplies to look after them – sit them out the next one though.” Colux said in a concerned yet encouraging voice.

“And the others?” Ventarion asked, fearing the answer.

“Armour saved them. A few cuts and bruises, they’ll be fine. Scaras was all capillary bleeding, once we replaced it he was back up.” Colux replied. He wanted to chastise and dissect the mistakes, but he knew Ventarion was bleeding worse than Scaras was. Avikus wasn’t as compassionate.

“Top…” He wheezed “You figured it out yet? Us or them. You keep doing this, us will either be dead. Or gone.”

Ventarion looked him dead in the eyes, he could feel the weight of responsibility tightening around his skull.

“I know, Avikus.”

// Settlement lost in a Stand-off against the Venom Sirens! //
Game 5: Reign in Blood vs Legendary Lifters

Scenario: Murder Cyborg

Soundtrack to Scene:

“Dead Skin Mask, I want you to trek back to our encampment and ask our Liegemen for another offering. Prepare them for a feast to celebrate our spoils”

“We are almost done here, we’ll meet you there tomorrow. I trust you with this task. You have proven yourself loyal to the cause.”

He nods slowly and gathers his sundries.

Seven Faces paints the gangs distinctive callsign on the side of the factories doors and erects its new name plate “Butchers Bay”

The morning light threatens and Dead skin Mask bursts into the doorway

“Come quickly... Follow me! Bring everyone! Come now!!, I found it I found it!!”

He runs off.

Angel makes a snap decision and rapidly mobilises the Lodge into action in an effort to keep up with the eager initiate.

“Quick down here!”

The whole lodge scutters down a ladder delving into the underground tunnel network of what looks like a once grand multistorey building. The ruins of it protruding like willowy boughs.






No signs of value yet. Just remnants of what looks to be a manufacturing facility buried deep under the building. What was she missing?

They pass a sign.

Angel Stops to read it for clues to the urgency of Dead Skin Masks claim.

Cyberdyne sub level 5

Intuition kicks in.

She hand signals to a few of her foot soldiers to take a right flank covering their exit whilst the rest of the Lodge remain on Dead Skin Masks tail.


The sound of rapidly discharged plasma blasts and the familiar whir of Fleshstorms cleavers immediately justify her decision.



Two Goliath burst out from a doorway. One hurls a grenade over to Scarstruck blowing him into a wall slumping him out cold.

War Zone kicks into action unleashing his Boltgun. Sparks fly as the pipes and structures of the tunnels light up from the multiple stray bolt shells. He refuses to release the trigger and he struggles to maintain its recoil but a round finds its mark in one of the Goliaths.

“War Zone STOP!!”

Angel attempts to restrain the inexperienced initiate who’s only wasting their valuable ammunition now.


Dead Skin Masks makes a risky move to an open doorway amongst the bolter fire. The pilot light to his flamer illuminating four goliaths sneaking up on the other flank. He dispatches some hot fury and catches two of them alight.


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The door opens again and an even bigger goliath runs in slinging his stub cannon over his shoulder for the preference of a fist fight.

A blow connects and the Goliaths arm seems to buckle. Dead Skin Mask remains strangely immovable and slowly turns to face the Goliath bruiser.


War Zone attempts to swing his out of control bolter towards the Goliath brute and a shot connects knocking him down and at the mercy of his target.

Dead Skin Mask acting oddly starts to slowly reach down to the Goliath.


A perfectly placed Krak grenade from out of know where connects with the grubby initiate. The blast is so blinding everyone present averts their gaze and shields their face from the promise of the incoming gib.

It never comes. When their gaze returns a smouldering metallic skeleton remains. Burning flesh clinging to what lies beneath.

“Infiltrator!!” Someone yells

It stands to attention surveying its targets.



Sparks flying from a nearby control console hint at collateral damage. Thermal steam venting from pierced pipes. The full clip of bolt shells and the krag grenade causing critical harm to the cooling system of the powerplant of this strange place.

The Goliath slowly crawls away to his gang that have long since left him. The machine now possibly damaged pauses for a moment. Reviewing its objectives. It brings up its weapons and pins Expendable Youth in retreat fire as it begins to leave the area also.

Had this machine killed one of her most trusted soldiers?

She had to know.

Opening fire, they continue to try take it down.

War Ensemble flings his saw at it and it connects with an almighty blow knocking it back through a doorway.


Angel hurdles over the pinned Expendable Youth and makes her way through the doorway just in time to make a seemingly killing blow to the machine.


The surrounding structure becoming extremely unstable now. Fire starting to spread around them from the burst earlier.

She stands over it. Flames lashing around her.

She twists its neck clean around.

“There are 215 bones in the human body… That’s one! Now don’t move!”

Parts of the roof start caving in and the floor begins to become unsteady.

The Cyborg slowly starts to careen its neck back around and twists its torso back into place correcting its alignment.

Angel flips up her knife by the pommel grabbing it in a dagger position for another attempt at a killing blow. But she’s pulled off the metallic skeleton.

War Ensemble grabbing at her shoulder breaking her blood lusted focus and alerting her to the surrounding dangers she had become oblivious to.

“We have to go……. NOOOOWWWW!”

They scrappily regroup and run back the way they came narrowly avoiding entombment in this strange facility.


They return to the Tree of Woe empty handed and Dead Skin Mask gets up from the firepit to greet them with the new offering to the Lodge.

“My Liege where have you been? I have initiated the offering already and he has pledged his allegiance to the great one.”

“All that’s left…..”

In one fluid motion and without hesitation Angel whips her knife right up and brings it down deep within the new initiates forehead to the hilt.

He falters to his knees bleeding out form his mouth

In passing Angel stops directly beside Dead Skin Mask without looking at him

“Don’t be so careless next time”

She strides up to her quarters.

“Dinners served”
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Story 5 – Stubbs (Goliath vs Enforcers)

“Boss I see the Sump-rig in the distance we’re nearly there,” Stubbs called out from the back of the group. “Yes, I see it too, good job Stubbs. You hold back with Billy, TPT, and Lucy while we go on ahead.” Replied Chuck. The rest of the gang moved on; Stubbs held position in some ruins.

As the gang disappeared past some old buildings, Stubbs surveyed the rest of the buildings nearby. There was a shine in a window and unexpectedly everything went quiet. The distinct sound of a metal canister hit the ground near Stubbs and with two flashes of light, he and his group were thrown to the ground.

Another flash. Stubbs managed to hold on and swiftly got up. “Boys, we’ve been ambushed, boys come on. Get Up!”. Billy groggily stood while TPT was bleeding from a grievous injury to his body. Lucy was out cold next to another section of ruins. The pounding of feet caught the ears of Stubbs and he turned to see an enforcer charging but falling short. “Boom”, Stubbs stub-cannon returned fire, missing, and taking a huge chunk of concrete out of a wall next to the enforcer's head.

A bellow across the vox shouted “Cease fire! Stand down!” and the enforcer lowered his weapon and stood where he was. Stubbs stared at him while he picked up the bleeding Pain Train and Billy dragged Lucy away. They were lucky this time. By only by a fraction of a sump-croc scale. He better report back to the boss.

Story 6 – Curls & Reps (Goliath vs Corpse Grinders)

With a recent find of the Iron Deeps of Hive Primus (Mine Workings), Curls and Reps had been instructed to give it to the local Goliath gang to work and restore to it former glory. They arrived at some tunnels near a sump entrance and found the Legendary Lifters searching the area for more scrap and metals. Announcing his presence and confidently walking up he greeted the Leader.

“Hello Forge Tyrant Chuck, a local patron has offered our services to you free of charge as well as a Mine Workings located here, all you need to do is work it and pass on a percentage of takings to the patron as rental of the mine.”. Curls pointed at a crudely drawn map. Chuck studied the fully kitted juves and considered them. He nodded his head “Welcome aboard boys… come help me with my current situation”.

Having been quickly briefed, Curls, Chef Ainsley, Billy, and Lucy were tasked to search the western quadrant of the sump tunnels. With the mission to look out for an old relic, some kind of mechanical man, they rummaged through fallen scrap and looked in all the big cracks in the floor.

With Curls moving West, Reps and another group moved North searching the scrap and cracks for this strange mechanical beast. They entered a new room and there standing on the other side was Corpse Grinder initiate looking bewildered as well. Reps instinctively reached from his Molotov Grenade and threw it at the ugly initiate. The explosion pinned the man, but he did not catch fire.

Another initiate sprinted past Reps with a flame thrower and managed to pin Curls and his group as they entered the same room. They caught alight. Chef Ainsley managed to retaliate but missed with his combat shotgun. Stubbs then charged, failing to take out the flamer initiate with unarmed attacks. Finally, with a distinct ‘krak’, Chains’ the goliath specialist hit the initiate. As the initiate fell, his skin peeled open like an over-ripened corpse revealing metallic arms, legs, head, and torso.

A mechanical voice started to speak “<<Mission: Preservation Protocol>>…….<<Return to master>>…..<<Engage only when required>>…..<<Continue west-ward >>”. The cyborg started moving west. More initiates appeared and Chuck and Joe Exotic took rifle shots to their bodies, both learning some valuable lessons. As Chuck lay on the ground he bellowed at the top of his lungs “I think it’s time to go boys and girls. Fall back! DOUBLE TIME!”. The Legendary Lifters left quickly leaving the mechanical man to the fate of The Corpse Grinders.

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