Post by scionsofcadaith on Dec 14, 2010 15:37:31 GMT -5
Hi All
A buddy and I are pulling out all the stops for our third 24hr-non-stop Apoc battle this time we are upping the stakes to 13,000 per side
It's going to be Chaos and Deamons vs IG and Blood Angels. This weekend I'll post the lists and some shots of the custom built terrain.
In the meantime here is the beginning of the backstory to our little conflict.
__________________________________
Once again the thunderous bombardment shook the entire ancient, fortress monastery. As the wall trembled with the shuddering aftershocks, Inquisitor Blane peered up at the large flickering screen that churned out up to the second information of the disposition of his forces.
He seemed unaware of the building-sized cyclonic munitions that crashed into the arcane shields of the monastery. The truth of the matter was that Hiram Blane had spent the last hundred and fifty years loitering around death’s door waiting to be given a shove. He was no fatalist, just very clear that serving the Emperor in the constant battles against the Ruinous Powers meant courting certain death. A death which at the very least would be as unpleasant as it would be horribly painful.
He didn’t need his witch-sight to feel the eyes of Lord Commissar Vacht boring into his back. Blane conceded that the Commissar had ample reason to resent the fact that he had all but supplanted his authority in the sector. To his credit, Vacht had not even given the slightest sign of dissent.
The same could not be said for the Imperial Guard Coronel standing on the periphery of his vision waiting impatiently to be noticed. Blane’s patience had been sorely tested by the Mordian commander. On one occasion, soon after his arrival, the inquisitor’s bodyguards were ready to bring the Coronel’s life to a swift end. The only reason the Imperial officer was still alive was that the inquisitor knew that the inflexible hierarchy of the Heavy Tank Company of the XXXth Mordian “Iron Guard” would be devastated if it were decapitated on the eve of such an important battle. The tanks had been crowded beneath the canopy provided by the shield generator. It provided protection that the Ordo agent’s savant and adept had only just managed to get in place mere hours before the bombardment from the Dirge Infernal had began to play its deadly torrent of projectiles over the surface of the tortured planet.
The commander of the blighted battle cruiser in orbit seemed genuinely frustrated by the fact that the ancient shield was holding up to more than thirty minutes of the furious assault from his flagship. Or maybe he was hoping for his dark gods to conjure some weakness in the shieldwall.
Blane reached out to the shadows in the Empyrean that swirled around the Dirge Infernal. He tasted the urgency of the chaos spawn to fall upon the planet. He sensed their heady desire for blood to be spilt in the name of Chaos undivided. Swiftly, he withdrew as the enemy began to sense his presence. A sigh escaped the inquisitor’s dry lips as he returned to awareness in the control room. Agent Mortis stood a couple of meters from him her eyes sweeping the faces at his back daring them to do something stupid. Of course no one would dare provoke a Callidus assassin.
A buddy and I are pulling out all the stops for our third 24hr-non-stop Apoc battle this time we are upping the stakes to 13,000 per side
It's going to be Chaos and Deamons vs IG and Blood Angels. This weekend I'll post the lists and some shots of the custom built terrain.
In the meantime here is the beginning of the backstory to our little conflict.
__________________________________
Once again the thunderous bombardment shook the entire ancient, fortress monastery. As the wall trembled with the shuddering aftershocks, Inquisitor Blane peered up at the large flickering screen that churned out up to the second information of the disposition of his forces.
He seemed unaware of the building-sized cyclonic munitions that crashed into the arcane shields of the monastery. The truth of the matter was that Hiram Blane had spent the last hundred and fifty years loitering around death’s door waiting to be given a shove. He was no fatalist, just very clear that serving the Emperor in the constant battles against the Ruinous Powers meant courting certain death. A death which at the very least would be as unpleasant as it would be horribly painful.
He didn’t need his witch-sight to feel the eyes of Lord Commissar Vacht boring into his back. Blane conceded that the Commissar had ample reason to resent the fact that he had all but supplanted his authority in the sector. To his credit, Vacht had not even given the slightest sign of dissent.
The same could not be said for the Imperial Guard Coronel standing on the periphery of his vision waiting impatiently to be noticed. Blane’s patience had been sorely tested by the Mordian commander. On one occasion, soon after his arrival, the inquisitor’s bodyguards were ready to bring the Coronel’s life to a swift end. The only reason the Imperial officer was still alive was that the inquisitor knew that the inflexible hierarchy of the Heavy Tank Company of the XXXth Mordian “Iron Guard” would be devastated if it were decapitated on the eve of such an important battle. The tanks had been crowded beneath the canopy provided by the shield generator. It provided protection that the Ordo agent’s savant and adept had only just managed to get in place mere hours before the bombardment from the Dirge Infernal had began to play its deadly torrent of projectiles over the surface of the tortured planet.
The commander of the blighted battle cruiser in orbit seemed genuinely frustrated by the fact that the ancient shield was holding up to more than thirty minutes of the furious assault from his flagship. Or maybe he was hoping for his dark gods to conjure some weakness in the shieldwall.
Blane reached out to the shadows in the Empyrean that swirled around the Dirge Infernal. He tasted the urgency of the chaos spawn to fall upon the planet. He sensed their heady desire for blood to be spilt in the name of Chaos undivided. Swiftly, he withdrew as the enemy began to sense his presence. A sigh escaped the inquisitor’s dry lips as he returned to awareness in the control room. Agent Mortis stood a couple of meters from him her eyes sweeping the faces at his back daring them to do something stupid. Of course no one would dare provoke a Callidus assassin.
NICE!
