The Battle for Londinium Prime - Southern Sector

Didn't know there was one ?

This is a Narrative map based campaign that Chris Catling and I have set up - it involves 8 players, 4 fighting for the Imperium and 4 not. If the campaign goes well and isn't too much work to keep up - we may be recruiting new players sometime next year or potentially re-starting it (so people can switch sides/armies etc) During the life of the campaign I will potentially be looking for other club members to fight one off battles or in multi-player scenarios. If this is something you would be interested in please let me or Chris know.

The fluff for Team Super Bad - Plaudits to Chris "Cat Licker" Catling

In a dimly lit basement room in the outer slums of Hivecity Tertiary on Londinium Prime, three figures sat around a table. One slowly leaned into the sickly yellow light cast by a single failing glow globe and, in a voice that sounded like slime dripping from a rusted pipe, greeted the others. “I’m so glad you could come tonight my brothers. Lord Mortarian could not make it to this gathering, but rest assured I speak with his full authority”. Agrios Loimos, sorcerer of Nurgle, spread a map of the Southern Sector across the table, the paint of which bubbled slightly at his touch. “We all know why we are here, Magos Babbage.” Agrios nodded his head towards the shadowy form to his right, an imposing figure in a long red robe with mechadendrites creeping from various folds; two of which were mid-way through pouring a generous glass of Amasec “He called requesting the aid of the Exhaulted Deathguard in reclaiming a certain… artefact from this sector. My Lord Mortarion requested that I lead this expedition to assist in recovering this item. However when we made planetfall we were unaware of a number of crucial circumstances. One; There is a considerable Imperial presence here, and if I know those corpse worshiping bastards they’re unlikely to let us wander around digging holes. Two; Our brothers in the Dark Mechanicum have no idea where the artefact is beyond ‘somewhere in the southern sector’ and finally three; The Magos apparently brought a drinking buddy of his to the party without bothering to inform us!” With this statement, the figure sitting opposite the sorcerer leaned into the circle of light, the polished sheen of its skull like visage reflecting the glow and its eyes flashing an emerald green. A staccato barrage of what sounded like static emerged from its mouth as it banged its metal fist on the table, breaking a small chunk off in the process. “Lord Khanut the Incinerator of the Omara, states the following:” Slurred the slightly inebriated Magos Babbage, easily translating the machine language shared by the Necron Lord and its Dark Mechanicum ally “He does not imbibe and he is unsure what a ‘buddy’ is, but he feels like it was intended as an insult. Lord Khanut wishes it to be known that the Dynasty of Omara has an interest in recovering the artefact and as such he is prepared to throw his not inconsiderable military force into service to retrieve it.”

“That is good” muttered the sorcerer and then, raising his voice, said “I, or at least the Plague Lords of Deathguard, will now be taking control of the military part of this operation. To this end you two will assist in the campaign, controlling your own forces but reporting to us. What you do in pursuit of this article of particular interest is up to you, but when Mortarian calls I hope you will answer.” Sorcerer Agrios Loimos was clearly hoping for more that the non-committal shrugs he was given by the other two in acquiescence to his speech and he visibly deflated slightly. “I’ll take that as agreement. One more thing gentlemen. To aid us in our glorious fight against the oppressive forces of the withered man on the Golden Throne, I have enlisted the assistance of some unusual allies.” At this point a shadow separated itself from a corner of the room and a gigantic hulking creature slumped into the remaining chair, which creaked and strained to support the monstrous armoured bulk of the Ork Warlord “This is Warboss Utur Buzzklaw, his specialities include smashing things with large sticks and shouting a lot. Buzzclaw has agreed to help us with our Imperial infestation in return for a sizeable amount of alchemical wonders from our stores and the promise of first pick of the battlefield salvage after any and all engagement they are involved in. Isn’t that right Utur?” the sorcerer glanced over and up at the warlord, who was busy picking his teeth with a power sword. “Wot?” the warlord appeared to notice the others for the first time, leaning down and glaring around the table “Yeah, wot ‘e said. Da ladz an me will go crumping for youz and we gets to keeps wot we find. Oh yeah, and your pus monkeys will giv us a load of nasty chemicals I can dip grotz in, right?” The warlord raised an eyebrow in the direction of Agrios. “Yes, Utur, our thrice blessed Biologus Putrifiers will concoct some superb solutions for your ‘Doctors’ experimentations.”
“If we are in agreement then, my brothers, I will leave you to your preparations. Tomorrow at dawn we will march to the field of battle and announce our presence and intentions to these Lapdogs of the appallingly disease free Emperor.” With this the Nurgle sorcerer stood and stalked out of the room, leaving just a lingering scent of decay and vomit in his wake.
Once it was clear there was neither anything to eat or fight in the room, Warboss Utur Buzzklaw stood and stamped out of the room, his gigantic frame widening the doorway slightly. Over his shoulder he grunted back to the other two “See youz later boyz. I gotta rally da Ladz, tell the stinky magic man I won’t be around in da mornin’ I got stuff to do. Leave some umies for us…” Laughing as he went, the massive Ork disappeared from view.

This left the two machine men, who both looked at each other in what could have passed for trepidation had either of them been able to have facial expressions. Talking in machine language Magos Babbage said “Well, this is getting interesting isn’t it? With any luck we can get those two to distract the population of the planet long enough for us to find what we’re looking for. Although I do fear that we are going to have to commit a large amount of military resources to the endeavour.” The Necron Lord was silent for a moment and, after appearing to consider his answer, simply stated “Yes”. If Babbage hadn’t been so sure of the alliance between himself and the ancient machine man he would have been nervous at the lack of detail but they had fought enough battles together for him to know that he could probably trust the Necron. Probably.
Sorcerer Agrios Loimos was pouring over a map of the expected engagement area in his command centre (a central chamber of the hives sewer system; Dark, dank, stinking and infested with rats which were equally infested with a host of diseases. Just how the leprous sorcerer liked it). A shadow fell across the pictslate and he looked up into the visage of a gigantic metal behemoth, nearly as big as the Ork Warboss. Plague Lord Panouklas Pligis was permanently clad in his ancient Cataphractii Terminator armour, which was pitted, scored and rusted from a thousand battlefields. When he spoke it sounded like a heap of rusted metal collapsing into a toxic sump. The sorcerer nodded after the cacophony had abated “Yes, my Lord, all are in agreement. With any luck this planet will fall under Grandfathers control and the population will be enlightened and blessed with the many plagues he brings. But I imagine it will take a little persuasion first. I’ll contact our cult leaders throughout the sector and instruct them to begin paving the way for our glorious advance. Then you may lead out glorious legions and spread the joy.” A screeching sound like rending of tank armour erupted from the helmet of the Plague Lord and he wandered away towards another section of the sewer. Sorcerer Agrios had always understood this to be laughter…

A Battle report from the inaugural Multi-player game by Chris "Catlicker" Catling

Sorcerer Agrios Loimos looked around the battlefield, smoking wrecks of Imperial Guard Leman Russ tanks gently cooled on one horizon and the twisted remains of a number of Penitent Engines creaked in the breeze. “Well we won then.” He muttered to Magos Babbage “That was harder than I expected it to be and frankly I think we got lucky.” The Magos looked up from his dataslate and stared blankly at the sorcerer, a slight smile spread across his face as he said “Nevertheless the forces of freedom and justice have prevailed and we should have a good opportunity to have a bit of a poke around this shithole of a planet and set up some bases before the Imperial dogs manage to rally”. “Are you drunk again?” Asked Loimos, “A little” replied Babbage as he returned to his Dataslate, pouring over battle data from the engagement.

Sorcerer Loimos was still staring across the battlefield, deep in thought, when a bright green flash burst next to him and Lord Khanut, the Incinerator of the Omara stepped onto the scared ground next to him. The Necron Lord approached the other two. Loimos didn’t even look at him as he said “Nice of you to finally show up. I was wondering if we would see you this day… Just so you know your units of warriors held the left flank magnificently, but your Doom Scythes and destroyers on the right seemed, shall we say, distracted? Their shooting was not up to the usual methodically high standard I have come to expect from your mechanical underlings.” The response from the Necron Lord was, as usual, a loud burst of static that Magos Babbage translated without looking up from his battle data. “Lord Khanut, the Incinerator of the Omara wants you to know that his forces today were led by the esteemed Ramotka. Who, whilst both terrifying and an unparalleled bringer of death, can also be slightly overzealous. As she was commanding the forces this day it is likely this overzealousness… infected the forces she commanded. This may go some way to explain their happiness to charge straight at the enemy all guns blazing but also give some reasoning as to why they mostly missed with the shots from said guns. It also might explain why that Doom Scythe that left the field of battle is now engaging a space marine strike cruiser in orbit single handed. We expect to lose contact with the pilot shortly.” Loimos nodded “Infection. That makes sense. I can’t really criticise can I? We won and the disciples of the False God fled so who really cares how we did it?”
The three generals slowly walked back towards the bunker discussing the upcoming occupation of territory and, in the case of Magos Babbage, drinking Amasec. Halfway back a huge black cloud materialised in front of the group. At first appearing to be from a smoking ruin, it was soon apparent that it was a dense cloud of fat plague flies. The group stopped in silence and stared as the flies coalesced into a gigantic hulking form; it had probably once been encased in Cataphractii Terminator armour but this had long since mutated and fused with its vile bloated form, a single horn like spike protruding from the helmets forehead and a massive scythe, its blade dripping with venom that hissed as it hit the dirt, held low at its side. Various fat Nurglings played around the Giants feet, looking ridiculously insignificant as they slithered across his feet. “Bggrrrr” whispered Loimos to his comrades “Now we’re really fkceeed”. Then, loudly addressing the silent figure in front of him, “My Lord Typhus. It is a pleasure and a blessing from Grandfather Nurgle himself to see you here on this backwater planet. As much as my heart swells with pus and gratitude to see you, might I know to what we owe the pleasure of your company?” The giant simply inclined his head to one side, then one of the Nurglings broke away from it capering and approached the sorcerer, when it reached him it vomited a stream of stinking yellow bile all over Loimos’ feet. “Truly I am blessed!” The sorcerer exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye, “But I take your point my Lord. Yes, we should have eradicated those Sheep of the Cursed Shepherd without breaking stride and yes, you are right, this world should already have been brought the majesty of Grandfather’s Garden. And yes, you are right! Losing so many of our blessed Poxwalkers to the accursed First Legion is an affront to all we hold dear. I thank you for your sage advice and your offer of assistance in this matter my Lord Typus. Glory be to Nurgle” at this Typhus turned and walked away, the giggling Nurglings cavorting stickily in his wake.

Later the three generals sat around their table in the bunker and, having been joined by Warboss Utur Buzzklaw, had been drinking heavily for some time. “I don’t really see the problem Loimos old chap” Babbage slurred whilst several of his mechadendrites attempted to untangle themselves from the knot they had got themselves into. “The problem…” muttered the sorcerer, his head face down on the table in a pool of green vomit (his own… probably) “Is that dammed Typus is a morwangler… a warmonongoror… a wossname… Warmonger! All he wants to do is smash and subjugate. There won’t be any subtlety, finesse or subtlety. If we’re gonna find this bloody Artifact we’re gonna really have to work around that giant fool…” “Smash and subjugate? I like the sound a dis guy” chuckled Utur Buzzklaw “Now maybe we can get sum propa killin done? Been too long since da boyz had a propa outtin”

Currently the forces of the Corpse Emperor hold 11 key strategic points whilst those of the forces of Darkness hold 9 and 4 are currently in a state of abandonment.

With the forces of the Orks and the Imperial Guard yet to start their hostilities.