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Fiction The Beginning
- Thread starter Fhanados
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Terradon
Fhanados
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Thanks for the support everyone! I hit some technical snags and lost a whole chapter of work, so here's a little something I threw together to keep the momentum going until my blood pressure returns to normal!
Glimmer of Hope
As the delegation from Karak Izor marched out the city gates of Munditlazan back to their Dwarven hold in the Black Mountains General Zpakatax reflected on their meeting and the events that led up to it. Of course he had not revealed the incident with the Council to the Dwarves, he had merely moved the location of their engagement to one of the lesser pyramids that had a completed temple hall. The Munditecah knew nothing about the ways of the First – to them it mattered not that their meeting happened in the very same hall where others of their kind had been sacrificed to Sotek in the early days of the colony. What were they to know?
Nothing… They knew nothing. Nothing of their place in the world. Nothing of their role in the Great Plan of their creators. That they knew nothing of the Old Ones themselves was a display of ignorance that was insulting to him. Zpakatax had contained his frustration, but for the Dwarves to show not even a glimmer of recognition when the names of the Old Ones were spoken was bordering on malefic! More than once he had the urge to strike them down where they stood and enforce the Great Plan by the sword as he had always done, but without new soldiers from Lustria this alliance with the Dwarves was crucial. And thus a pact was made.
It was settled that the Greenskins must be wiped off the blasted realms of the Badlands. It was not a difficult thing to agree upon for the Dwarven race as a whole has had a deep hatred of Orc kind since before the rise of the humans, and the beastly greenskins were invaders of this world with no part in the Old Ones’ plans. Hence, the only option was to kill them all. The difficulty came with the execution of this quest for neither force had the raw power to eradicate the Orcs. The Lizardmen’s earlier attempts to destabilise the Orc tribes by assassinating their leaders worked well at first, but now the disparate bands of greenskin raiders had come together under a few strong leaders that had thus far eluded the poisoned darts of Chameleon Skink assassins. The initial chaos had seen thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands or Orcs and Goblins killed but it was not enough.
The dull tedium of Dwarven diplomacy quickly wore on Zpakatax’ patience. After several days of battle plans frequently interrupted by arduous discussions on trade routes, mining rights, ancestral claims to wealth and muttering complaints about the lack of strong ale very little had been accomplished. So it was that the mighty general of the Lizardmen resorted to petty bribery, he offered the Dwarves something they could not possibly resist – gold. Lots and lots of gold. It was well known that Lustria was rich with the yellow metal the young races coveted so much, and Dwarvenkind in particular had a weakness for it. Zpakatax, against the insistence of his advisors, had promised the Dwarves every skerrick of the stuff in Munditlazan. He had vowed that he would personally pluck it from the walls of every temple, shrine, and forge in the city and that every Lustrian on the continent would hand over any piece of weapon, armour or ornament that had the smallest ounce of gold in it. Of course it was a ludicrous promise and one he could not possibly carry out but the greed that ran through the veins of the stout warmbloods clouded their better judgement.
The offer was made to all Munditecah, and their own convoluted system of honour, grudges and obscure ancestral ties compelled them to spread the word to other nearby holds. The inevitable delays were infuriating, but the prospect of a greater Dwarf force to combat the Orcs and Goblins of the wastelands was one that could not be ignored. As much as it galled him to send away some of his more faithful servants, Zpakatax had dispatched a small envoy with the Dwarfen emissaries, each group destined for Karak Hirn, Karaz-A-Karak and the mighty sea port of Barak Varr. He had also made sure word of the gold offered to the Dwarves reached the ears of Tilean and Estalian nobility and the petty princedoms that dotted the land south of the Black Mountains. The more warmbloods he could muster to his cause the better and gold was an easy thing to give.
This campaign would be a success, it had to be. His actions in the court would be justified in the eyes of the First, his position among his peers solidified and the young races would be introduced to the enormity of their importance in the Great Plan of the Old Ones. They would be enlightened.
Glimmer of Hope
As the delegation from Karak Izor marched out the city gates of Munditlazan back to their Dwarven hold in the Black Mountains General Zpakatax reflected on their meeting and the events that led up to it. Of course he had not revealed the incident with the Council to the Dwarves, he had merely moved the location of their engagement to one of the lesser pyramids that had a completed temple hall. The Munditecah knew nothing about the ways of the First – to them it mattered not that their meeting happened in the very same hall where others of their kind had been sacrificed to Sotek in the early days of the colony. What were they to know?
Nothing… They knew nothing. Nothing of their place in the world. Nothing of their role in the Great Plan of their creators. That they knew nothing of the Old Ones themselves was a display of ignorance that was insulting to him. Zpakatax had contained his frustration, but for the Dwarves to show not even a glimmer of recognition when the names of the Old Ones were spoken was bordering on malefic! More than once he had the urge to strike them down where they stood and enforce the Great Plan by the sword as he had always done, but without new soldiers from Lustria this alliance with the Dwarves was crucial. And thus a pact was made.
It was settled that the Greenskins must be wiped off the blasted realms of the Badlands. It was not a difficult thing to agree upon for the Dwarven race as a whole has had a deep hatred of Orc kind since before the rise of the humans, and the beastly greenskins were invaders of this world with no part in the Old Ones’ plans. Hence, the only option was to kill them all. The difficulty came with the execution of this quest for neither force had the raw power to eradicate the Orcs. The Lizardmen’s earlier attempts to destabilise the Orc tribes by assassinating their leaders worked well at first, but now the disparate bands of greenskin raiders had come together under a few strong leaders that had thus far eluded the poisoned darts of Chameleon Skink assassins. The initial chaos had seen thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands or Orcs and Goblins killed but it was not enough.
The dull tedium of Dwarven diplomacy quickly wore on Zpakatax’ patience. After several days of battle plans frequently interrupted by arduous discussions on trade routes, mining rights, ancestral claims to wealth and muttering complaints about the lack of strong ale very little had been accomplished. So it was that the mighty general of the Lizardmen resorted to petty bribery, he offered the Dwarves something they could not possibly resist – gold. Lots and lots of gold. It was well known that Lustria was rich with the yellow metal the young races coveted so much, and Dwarvenkind in particular had a weakness for it. Zpakatax, against the insistence of his advisors, had promised the Dwarves every skerrick of the stuff in Munditlazan. He had vowed that he would personally pluck it from the walls of every temple, shrine, and forge in the city and that every Lustrian on the continent would hand over any piece of weapon, armour or ornament that had the smallest ounce of gold in it. Of course it was a ludicrous promise and one he could not possibly carry out but the greed that ran through the veins of the stout warmbloods clouded their better judgement.
The offer was made to all Munditecah, and their own convoluted system of honour, grudges and obscure ancestral ties compelled them to spread the word to other nearby holds. The inevitable delays were infuriating, but the prospect of a greater Dwarf force to combat the Orcs and Goblins of the wastelands was one that could not be ignored. As much as it galled him to send away some of his more faithful servants, Zpakatax had dispatched a small envoy with the Dwarfen emissaries, each group destined for Karak Hirn, Karaz-A-Karak and the mighty sea port of Barak Varr. He had also made sure word of the gold offered to the Dwarves reached the ears of Tilean and Estalian nobility and the petty princedoms that dotted the land south of the Black Mountains. The more warmbloods he could muster to his cause the better and gold was an easy thing to give.
This campaign would be a success, it had to be. His actions in the court would be justified in the eyes of the First, his position among his peers solidified and the young races would be introduced to the enormity of their importance in the Great Plan of the Old Ones. They would be enlightened.
Scar-Veteran
spawning of Bob
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You dishonoUr me by thinking me 'murican? Do you hope to placate me with this petty offering?
It worked.
I don't think there is a single character on L-O who is as unlikeable as Zpakatax. It makes me worry that he is your "author avatar". (Mine is more exotic. He has an eggshell to go with his personality defects)
I love the way you can get away with waving away hundreds of thousands of orc deaths as a distraction to the main plot. It must be because the main plot is just so intriguing.
Hope you don't have a stroke the next time you hit "delete" instead of "send".
It worked.
I don't think there is a single character on L-O who is as unlikeable as Zpakatax. It makes me worry that he is your "author avatar". (Mine is more exotic. He has an eggshell to go with his personality defects)
I love the way you can get away with waving away hundreds of thousands of orc deaths as a distraction to the main plot. It must be because the main plot is just so intriguing.
Hope you don't have a stroke the next time you hit "delete" instead of "send".
Terradon
Fhanados
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Hahaha I try to avoid having author avatars as even idealised versions of myself tend to be rather boring characters. Szeratops is kind of my AA for this, but I'm making a concious effort to try and undo that and make him his own character. I just love the Eternity Warden model so much that it's hard to avoid making him a total badass.
I draw my inspiration for Zpakatax from Garithos (aka "the racist paladin") from Warcraft 3. I think the insular and single minded nature of the Lizardmen lends itself to this kind of portrayal really well.
I draw my inspiration for Zpakatax from Garithos (aka "the racist paladin") from Warcraft 3. I think the insular and single minded nature of the Lizardmen lends itself to this kind of portrayal really well.
Terradon
Fhanados
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Do I have any fans left? I certainly hope so...
Origins and Endings
Mosaics comprised of tiny coloured tiles lined the walls of the circular chamber, depicting many events of Lizardmen history. There were stylised depictions of the Old Ones and their shaping of this world, followed by the creation of the mortal races, the collapse of the polar gateways and the ensuing conflict. More recent events were also evident, including the rise of Sotek and the fall of several Temple Cities. Set into alcoves of varying size were plaques. Some massive and ancient slabs of stone inscribed with intricate detail, some fragments the size of a Skink’s palm. One was a hexagonal crystal the size of a human head that had inscriptions both on the surface and within the crystal itself. There were a little over twenty such alcoves in total and each was being meticulously studied by groups of priests, shamans, administrators and academics.
Biqicuatectzin eyed off the studious skinks jealously from his position next to Aki-Pterixx. They stood at the edge of a great golden sun-disc at the centre of the chamber. Unlike Hexoatl’s great temple chamber there were no seats or tables. All negotiations were done standing on the outer ring of this massive gold circle inset into the floor. Choloq had told Biqi that the custom helped to see everyone’s true intention – that those who were lazy or fidgety and therefore untrustworthy would be quickly revealed and the discussions made were more transparent for it. Biqi understood the reasoning but found it odd that any of the First would consider another dishonest. Lizardmen did not lie, at least not to their own kind. Information could be tactically withheld or used to advantage, but outright deceit was unheard of to him!
The council had only been convened less than an hour before, but Biqi was eager for it to end. His leg, broken as he had suspected, caused him considerable pain. Coupled with his longing to study the plaques surrounding him and practice his new skills with Fire magic and Aki-Pterixx’s frustrating aloofness the High Priest had little interest in continuing the talks. There was only so much an aide could do if the diplomat himself refused to speak!
“So far you’ve failed to convince me Son of Tepok,” Choloq said. Biqi noticed the exasperated tone creeping into the pyromancer’s voice. Glancing sidwards at a still unresponsive Aki-Pterixx he could sympathise. “Other than the vague goal of going on a ‘crusade’ to set the Old One’s Plan in motion, what are your goals? What do you hope to achieve? And most importantly, why should the Spitting Serpent aid you?”
The Skink aide made motion to reply but nearly jumped out of his scales when he was unexpectedly interrupted by the feathered Saurus.
“Death walks among the living and Daemons swarm from the Gates. Lustria must march or it will burn. The First Children of the Old Ones are in ascendancy while our younger brothers and their Gods wither and die in the flames.”
The silence that followed was stunned and confused. Choloq spoke, slowly and deliberately.
“You speak of Prophecy. This is the domain of Priests and the Slann, not you.”
“It is my purpose. I AM prophecy,” replied Aki-Pterixx flatly.
“Your words appear on no Plaque, no stelae or inscription. Foretelling of these events has never been spoken by a Slann or divined from the stars,” the pyromancer pointed his blackened obsidian staff at the feathered Saurus. “You are a false prophet, a Son of Lies, not of Destiny. My people will never follow you!”
Aki-Pterixx growled threateningly at the slander and the room grew dark. Biqicuatectzin was terrified! The same fate that befell the Amazons on the mainland would happen here. Biqi did not think that Aki-Pterixx would intend to kill him, but he did not trust the detached Saurus to differentiate him from the other Skinks in the room, who even now raised their javelins and shields ready to defend themselves.
Desperately he glanced around the room for salvation. Surely there was something here that would help save the situation? Anything? Nothing.
His hopes dashed, desperation gave way to despair. Despair gave way to an overwhelming sense of nihilism. What was the point of all of this? What was the point of being the High Priest of the most powerful Temple City aside from Itza if everybody just solved their problems by killing them? Nihilism became anger.
“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Biqicuatectzin’s shrill voice became domineering and commanding in an instant. “As the High Priest of Hexoatl, Second only to the Slann themselves I say ENOUGH! You will NOT fight one another.”
With these words the darkness in the room was immediately vanquished. Radiant tendrils of bright blue and brilliant gold snaked in the air surrounding the High Priest.
“We will not devolve into the mad violence that claims the rest of our world. Would the Old Ones fight one another like this? Are there any Plaques or Prophecies where Tepok and Chotec attack one another? As someone who has studied such things for my entire life I can tell you NO! There is not.”
He first turned his gaze to Aki-Pterixx, eyes burning with pure white light. “You – you may be spawned for greatness, marked by Tepok himself but by the laws of our people and the decree of the Slann I outrank you. Mazdamundi assigned me as your aide in this venture, and aid you I shall, but do not forget that I am the High Priest of your spawn-city. You serve me. You may head this expedition by providence of your spawn-gift but you are a Saurus Warrior. You have not even earned your scars! By my grace I permit you to lead, but you will defer to me for all negotiations from now on. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, WARRIOR?”
Impassively, the Saurus bowed his head and made a salute. If the Priest’s words had stirred anything in him it did not show.
Wheeling to face Choloq his furious tirade continued. “I am the High Priest of Hexoatl, City of the Sun, Holy Temple of Chotec. I respect your people, your customs and your Island. It is blessed by the Sun and Fire, the Old Ones smile on this place. But you forget your rank pyromancer. You rule here by Chotec’s grace but I am His most revered and senior priest in Lustria. You might think me some young naïve tadpole, but I was born during the coming of Sotek. I was a novice when Tehehaiun still rallied his army against the Skaven in retribution for their foul acts on our lands. I have seen prophecies that others deemed heresy come to life before my very eyes.”
He let out a sigh and the light faded from his eyes. “Please brothers, we must come together. I see in the stars that old gods are stirring. If we do not act now this world will suffer a fate worse than the Old Ones have ever written of.”
Choloq stepped forward and gestured for his Skink bodyguard to lower their weapons. His crest was lowered in shame and his colour pale. He spoke softly and reverently.
“What must we do brother, how do we avert catastrophe? How do we save the world?”
Biqi turned away, not willing to look his fellow priest in the eye. The truth… it was not meant for them. But it must be told.
“We do not.”
As always comments and criticism are very welcome. This kinda went at a huge tangent from my original intent while I was still writing so please tell me if something seems rambling or nonsensical!
Origins and Endings
Mosaics comprised of tiny coloured tiles lined the walls of the circular chamber, depicting many events of Lizardmen history. There were stylised depictions of the Old Ones and their shaping of this world, followed by the creation of the mortal races, the collapse of the polar gateways and the ensuing conflict. More recent events were also evident, including the rise of Sotek and the fall of several Temple Cities. Set into alcoves of varying size were plaques. Some massive and ancient slabs of stone inscribed with intricate detail, some fragments the size of a Skink’s palm. One was a hexagonal crystal the size of a human head that had inscriptions both on the surface and within the crystal itself. There were a little over twenty such alcoves in total and each was being meticulously studied by groups of priests, shamans, administrators and academics.
Biqicuatectzin eyed off the studious skinks jealously from his position next to Aki-Pterixx. They stood at the edge of a great golden sun-disc at the centre of the chamber. Unlike Hexoatl’s great temple chamber there were no seats or tables. All negotiations were done standing on the outer ring of this massive gold circle inset into the floor. Choloq had told Biqi that the custom helped to see everyone’s true intention – that those who were lazy or fidgety and therefore untrustworthy would be quickly revealed and the discussions made were more transparent for it. Biqi understood the reasoning but found it odd that any of the First would consider another dishonest. Lizardmen did not lie, at least not to their own kind. Information could be tactically withheld or used to advantage, but outright deceit was unheard of to him!
The council had only been convened less than an hour before, but Biqi was eager for it to end. His leg, broken as he had suspected, caused him considerable pain. Coupled with his longing to study the plaques surrounding him and practice his new skills with Fire magic and Aki-Pterixx’s frustrating aloofness the High Priest had little interest in continuing the talks. There was only so much an aide could do if the diplomat himself refused to speak!
“So far you’ve failed to convince me Son of Tepok,” Choloq said. Biqi noticed the exasperated tone creeping into the pyromancer’s voice. Glancing sidwards at a still unresponsive Aki-Pterixx he could sympathise. “Other than the vague goal of going on a ‘crusade’ to set the Old One’s Plan in motion, what are your goals? What do you hope to achieve? And most importantly, why should the Spitting Serpent aid you?”
The Skink aide made motion to reply but nearly jumped out of his scales when he was unexpectedly interrupted by the feathered Saurus.
“Death walks among the living and Daemons swarm from the Gates. Lustria must march or it will burn. The First Children of the Old Ones are in ascendancy while our younger brothers and their Gods wither and die in the flames.”
The silence that followed was stunned and confused. Choloq spoke, slowly and deliberately.
“You speak of Prophecy. This is the domain of Priests and the Slann, not you.”
“It is my purpose. I AM prophecy,” replied Aki-Pterixx flatly.
“Your words appear on no Plaque, no stelae or inscription. Foretelling of these events has never been spoken by a Slann or divined from the stars,” the pyromancer pointed his blackened obsidian staff at the feathered Saurus. “You are a false prophet, a Son of Lies, not of Destiny. My people will never follow you!”
Aki-Pterixx growled threateningly at the slander and the room grew dark. Biqicuatectzin was terrified! The same fate that befell the Amazons on the mainland would happen here. Biqi did not think that Aki-Pterixx would intend to kill him, but he did not trust the detached Saurus to differentiate him from the other Skinks in the room, who even now raised their javelins and shields ready to defend themselves.
Desperately he glanced around the room for salvation. Surely there was something here that would help save the situation? Anything? Nothing.
His hopes dashed, desperation gave way to despair. Despair gave way to an overwhelming sense of nihilism. What was the point of all of this? What was the point of being the High Priest of the most powerful Temple City aside from Itza if everybody just solved their problems by killing them? Nihilism became anger.
“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Biqicuatectzin’s shrill voice became domineering and commanding in an instant. “As the High Priest of Hexoatl, Second only to the Slann themselves I say ENOUGH! You will NOT fight one another.”
With these words the darkness in the room was immediately vanquished. Radiant tendrils of bright blue and brilliant gold snaked in the air surrounding the High Priest.
“We will not devolve into the mad violence that claims the rest of our world. Would the Old Ones fight one another like this? Are there any Plaques or Prophecies where Tepok and Chotec attack one another? As someone who has studied such things for my entire life I can tell you NO! There is not.”
He first turned his gaze to Aki-Pterixx, eyes burning with pure white light. “You – you may be spawned for greatness, marked by Tepok himself but by the laws of our people and the decree of the Slann I outrank you. Mazdamundi assigned me as your aide in this venture, and aid you I shall, but do not forget that I am the High Priest of your spawn-city. You serve me. You may head this expedition by providence of your spawn-gift but you are a Saurus Warrior. You have not even earned your scars! By my grace I permit you to lead, but you will defer to me for all negotiations from now on. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, WARRIOR?”
Impassively, the Saurus bowed his head and made a salute. If the Priest’s words had stirred anything in him it did not show.
Wheeling to face Choloq his furious tirade continued. “I am the High Priest of Hexoatl, City of the Sun, Holy Temple of Chotec. I respect your people, your customs and your Island. It is blessed by the Sun and Fire, the Old Ones smile on this place. But you forget your rank pyromancer. You rule here by Chotec’s grace but I am His most revered and senior priest in Lustria. You might think me some young naïve tadpole, but I was born during the coming of Sotek. I was a novice when Tehehaiun still rallied his army against the Skaven in retribution for their foul acts on our lands. I have seen prophecies that others deemed heresy come to life before my very eyes.”
He let out a sigh and the light faded from his eyes. “Please brothers, we must come together. I see in the stars that old gods are stirring. If we do not act now this world will suffer a fate worse than the Old Ones have ever written of.”
Choloq stepped forward and gestured for his Skink bodyguard to lower their weapons. His crest was lowered in shame and his colour pale. He spoke softly and reverently.
“What must we do brother, how do we avert catastrophe? How do we save the world?”
Biqi turned away, not willing to look his fellow priest in the eye. The truth… it was not meant for them. But it must be told.
“We do not.”
As always comments and criticism are very welcome. This kinda went at a huge tangent from my original intent while I was still writing so please tell me if something seems rambling or nonsensical!
Last edited:
Terradon
Fhanados
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I made some alterations to Biqi's dialogue to Choloq towards the end. It seemed a bit messy and the word "Chotek" was used far too many times for one paragraph! I think it flows a bit better now, but criticism from my fells is still welcome.
Tagging @spawning of Bob and @Scalenex - I'm sure you guys have been waiting for this one!
Tagging @spawning of Bob and @Scalenex - I'm sure you guys have been waiting for this one!
Scar-Veteran
spawning of Bob
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Biqi steps up. I thought you had enough powerful characters already, but jamming Biqi in Aki's face really raises the tension.
Just one thing. The last line about the First not saving the world is wrong. They actually will save the world AND rescue the princesses.
Just one thing. The last line about the First not saving the world is wrong. They actually will save the world AND rescue the princesses.
Slann
Bowser
Third Spawning
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Oh no they won't. I have airships and lava and thousands of troops that can not only walk left and right, some of them can fly up and down. They'll never guess which one of the 8 castles that I have labelled numerically the princess is in.
Terradon
Fhanados
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The story lives on! I've been pretty time poor and uninspired lately, but the bits and bobs I've written up for my 40k background has got the juices flowing once more. Also a friend of mine started his own Seraphon army with the amazing new carnosaur kit (I still have the old metal/finecast one so I'm pretty jealous) which has made me want to do something lizard related. So here it is! @spawning of Bob , @Scalenex and @Bowser I hope I don't disappoint!
The Gate Unlocked
Szeratops found himself fighting in a landscape that resembled what most mortal races would associate with the worst imaginable afterlife. Jagged black cliffs remained but the icy mountainside was no more, replaced by a fiery hellscape. Things that should not burn were engulfed in crimson flames and the heavy red bloodmist was now up to the waist of the Saurus warriors, leaving a sticky red film of vile hot fluid on all it touched. The injured Eternity Warden braced himself for a renewed assault as the howls of Chaos worshippers grew nearer.
Another violent mob of frenzied marauders emerged from the haze and threw themselves forward. The remaining Saurus warriors lowered their spears and raised their shields. With precision that could only be natural to creatures bred for the purpose of war they slew the foremost barbarians, piercing unprotected flesh in vital points and killing them swiftly. The ravening horde was too numerous for the casualties to blunt the attack entirely and frenzied humans pressed past the dead and dying even before they slumped to the ground to batter the Saurus shieldwall.
Szeratops discarded yet another broken spear and called for a new weapon. A Skink quickly passed him a spear of Druchii make, one of the few remaining weapons that they had scavenged in the brief reprieve after the Furies had fled south. He ignored the pain that wracked his body and lunged forwards within striking range of the foes. These madmen were the polar opposite of what the Old Ones had intended for humanity and they must be slain! He jabbed the barbed spearhead into the unprotected neck of one attacker, and before the man even realised he had been injured the spear was ripped out and swung to the side, catching another in the side of the head with one of the bladed spikes.
Szeratops tried to push forward into the warrior behind his second victim but over extended himself, stumbling forwards and almost falling from behind the safety of the shieldwall. It was only the quick reaction of one of the frontline Saurus warriors that saved him. The hulking Lizardman had roughly shouldered the Eternity Warden, shoving him back and to the side. In return for saving his leader the Saurus was hit heavily in the snout by a wild flail strike, audibly breaking the reptile’s skull in several places. The blow was not lethal and the Saurus fought on, but it was no small injury and would surely claim the warrior’s life before long.
Uttering a warrior’s curse Szeratops stepped back away from the front line. He glared savagely at the humans and for a moment he felt as though his predatory urge to tear them apart with fang and claw would overcome him. No, that would doom them all. Giving in to the wild aspects of being a Saurus was not how he became an Eternity Warden and it would achieve nothing here. Reluctantly he turned his back on the battle and limped as quickly as he could manage to the Glyphgate.
Assembled here were all the Skink Priests. Their magical powers had been rendered useless for combating the Khornate warriors by the blessing of their Dark God and the oppressive hold he exerted on the battlefield so now they focussed their efforts on the mysterious portal.
“Eternity Warden. We are no closer than before,” one of the Priests spoke. “The Blood God loathes sorcery and the winds of magic are not in our favour.”
Szeratops nodded in response. This was what he had expected. From all his experience fighting the forces of Chaos he had known that the power of Khorne would impede their progress and was likely to nullify their power entirely given time. He did not anticipate it would happen so quickly though.
“There is more,” the same Priest chirped. “We have… lost Hexoatl. We cannot feel its presence.”
“It has fallen?”
“No, we do not think so. We have lost our connection to the Slann and the Geomantic Web. All Priests can sense it, even if we cannot tap into it. It is through the Web that we can sense the presence of the Slann and they can use it to command us if they so choose. I have felt it all my life until now.”
“What does that mean to us? How does that affect our situation now?” Szeratops growled.
“We don’t know. This has never happened. The Geomantic Web cannot be destroyed, otherwise the entire planet would be sundered apart.”
“Good. Then we persist,” the Eternity Warden turned to re-join the battle raging on behind them.
“There is something else though, something that the Web was overpowering. Szeratops…” the Skink used the general’s name for the first time. “We MUST open this gate.”
Szeratops cracked his neck and flexed his claws. He hunched forward and shook like a beast shaking water from its hide, taking note of every ache and pain, every muscle that seized, every swollen joint, every stab, scratch, bite and tear that punctured his flesh. He rose to his full height again and looked down at the Skinks, who had all turned their eyes to him. He was ready.
“You shall have all the time you need. I will hold this pass for eternity alone if I must.” His gaze turned to some of the Skink skirmishers who had taken up the role of scavenging weapons. “You – fetch me armour and a shield.”
The Skinks glanced at the wounded Saurus leader with concern but done as they were told. They dismantled several lightweight Druchii chainmail suits to create a patchwork shirt and bound it to their General with leather straps. Over this a bloodstained black iron breastplate taken from a fallen Chaos follower was painfully beaten into place. Bit by bit they affixed scraps of armour to their leader until a truly sinister figure stood before them.
“Form Cohorts,” he spoke to the Skinks in the Saurus battle-tongue. “Defend the Priests.”
Szeratops rejoined the Saurus regiments defending the pass. They had been forced backwards several steps and several had fallen, including his erstwhile saviour. He pushed his way to the front and took up position next to the Spawn-Leader. Watching the next frenzied mass crest the hill and charge towards the pass he thought of the lost potential of mankind. They were worse than the Wayward, reduced to degenerate slaves of the ultimate enemy. Fury rose within him. Unlike the unbridled rage of the Blood God, his own wrath was focussed and with purpose.
Raising his shield above his head he bellowed a command that had not been heard since before the Cataclysm. A command of utter destruction. A guttural cry to the Gods that had brought nothing short of genocide upon entire species. Translated into any of the mortal tongues it meant “extinction”, but to the Lizardmen it meant so much more.
The Saurus joined him in the call for annihilation and it stirred in them an aggression seldom unleashed. The barbarian hordes grew nearer but this time the Saurus did not wait for them to crash upon the shieldwall. Ferocious beasts of muscle and sinew leapt forwards into the frenzied mob, hacking them apart with blades, caving in skulls with the edge of shields, tearing out throats with claw and fang alike. The predatory fighters tore apart ten times their number in moments and turned their focus to the hillcrest, hungry for more.
Atop the hill now stood three lone figures. One sat astride a mutated horse, bearing aloft a blood stained banner that flapped violently in the hot air. Next to him a mighty champion bedecked in black and crimson plate mounted a beast forged of iron and brass, a foul Juggernaut of Khorne. The third figure was unarmoured and unmounted, garbed in a tattered and bloodied robe. He would have looked out of place with his fellows had his stature not been so enormous and the axe he carried less massive.
Szeratops knew that they would not be the overall leaders of the Horde, but they were certainly champions of Khorne. If there was to be any chance of surviving then they had to be bested. He crouched down and tore a greataxe from the grasp of a dead man, hefting it in one hand he pointed it towards the trio and bellowed a challenge. He couldn’t speak the tongue of man, nor the Dark Tongue of Chaos followers, but the call of combat was universal.
The trio charged down the hill towards him, weapons poised to strike. Szeratops raised his shield and prepared to take the charge while his warriors solidified their position behind him to defend the pass. The horseman peeled off to the side and rode towards the Saurus warriors, obviously leaving the challenge for the armoured champion. The unarmoured giant of a man similarly moved to the other flank, almost matching the speed of his mounted companions. The Juggernaut bore down on the Eternity Warden, its rider levelling a jagged lance at the Saurus’ throat.
Szeratops stepped deftly to the side, using his experience facing down Stegadons to avoid the furious rush from the metal beast. The lance landed a solid blow on his chest but the layers of armour deflected the blow. He swung the huge Khornate axe in a wide arc, burying it in the daemonic beast’s rump. It roared in fury and began bucking, spraying molten brass blood from the wound. The enraged thrashing tore the axe from Szeratop’s hand but the Chaos warrior was too preoccupied with controlling it’s mount to notice. He quickly picked a flail from the ground and swung it at the creature, striking it again and again. The weapon barely dinted the beast but it further stoked the fires of its rage and it became more and more frenzied.
Szeratops was struck again by the lance, this time in the shoulder dangerously close to his neck. The warrior still struggled with his charge but had taken an opportunistic strike at the Saurus. The lance thrust forwards again and this time Szeratops deflected it with his shield. Before the Khorne champion could draw the weapon back for another strike the Eternity Warden grabbed the weapon’s shaft and twisted hard. The armoured warrior was blessed by the gifts of his Gods but he was still human and greatly outmatched in terms of raw strength. This coupled with the ongoing rampage of his uncontrollable beast saw him unsaddled, falling ungraciously from his steed and disappearing in the red mist.
Now armed with the bladed lance Szeratops stepped back and took a defensive stance waiting for the Chaos warrior to emerge from the mist. When the enemy stood he held an axe in each hand. Before moving to attack the Saurus General the Chaos Warrior turned his gaze upon the Juggernaut. The beast turned to face its master and bellowed, a sound akin to a forge’s furnace. With one swift movement the champion brought down his axe and the creatures head fell from its shoulders. Even as the Daemonic creature disintegrated into a pool of molten brass the Chaos Warrior rounded on Szeratops and renewed his attack.
Again and again the axes rose and fell, hammering the Saurus warrior’s shield and armour and occasionally biting into flesh. With the Juggernaut destroyed Szeratops should have the advantage over the human, but the battle had taken its toll and he was becoming slow and his blows soft. A few times he had managed a glancing hit on the thick metal armour, but not once had he managed to draw blood. Another blow landed, striking him in the chest. Pain from pre-existing wounds shot through his body and caused him to flinch just as the second axe came down and bit into his arm. Szeratops lost his grip on the lance and his arm went limp. The axe had cut several tendons and now he couldn’t move that arm no matter how strong his will.
The Chaos champion saw his weakness and laughed. The tainted human’s stance became relaxed. Complacent. He strolled towards the Eternity warden lazily spinning his axes. Still laughing. Szeratops staggered to his feet and growled, the warrior responded by striking him down, raining a hail of strikes down upon his shield side. Weakened by blood loss, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. The laughing resumed.
From his prone position he could only see the red mist, a haze of blood conjured by Khorne’s army. In the mist faces and bodies formed, victims of the Blood God’s host. Humans, Elves, Lizardmen and Orks alike swirled in the miasma. The mist parted and an armoured boot stopped mere inches from his face. He turned his vision upwards and saw a shadow looming over him above the fog. He knew it was only the Chaos Warrior but it may as well have been death itself. Resigned to his fate he closed his eyes and waited for the axe to fall.
He relaxed his grip on the shield and it fell away, releving a great burden from his still-working arm. Unclenhing his hand, he felt his fingertips brush against something. A spear tip from a ruined Druchii weapon. Somewhere one of his warriors howled in pain and the din of battle suddenly became clear. His warrior instincts kicked in, his soldiers were dying. They were outmatched. They needed their leader. Grasping the blade in his good hand he struck out at the armoured leg, digging the metal between the plates below its knee and the human’s laughing became screaming. A second later the Chaos warrior fell into the mists, joining his attacker in the red haze. Szeratops mustered what little energy he had left and threw himself on top of his fallen enemy. He desperately clawed at the human’s neck, trying to pry the horned helmet away while the warrior’s arms flailed, landing clumsy blows on the Saurus’ back and hide. Finally the helmet came away, the wild yellow eyes of the snarling champion met his own. For a moment both of them were still, gazing intently, furiously, hatefully into one another’s eyes.
“Blood for the Blood God!” were the last words the man spoke, and the Eternity Warden tore his throat out with his teeth before the world around him turned dark.
The Gate Unlocked
Szeratops found himself fighting in a landscape that resembled what most mortal races would associate with the worst imaginable afterlife. Jagged black cliffs remained but the icy mountainside was no more, replaced by a fiery hellscape. Things that should not burn were engulfed in crimson flames and the heavy red bloodmist was now up to the waist of the Saurus warriors, leaving a sticky red film of vile hot fluid on all it touched. The injured Eternity Warden braced himself for a renewed assault as the howls of Chaos worshippers grew nearer.
Another violent mob of frenzied marauders emerged from the haze and threw themselves forward. The remaining Saurus warriors lowered their spears and raised their shields. With precision that could only be natural to creatures bred for the purpose of war they slew the foremost barbarians, piercing unprotected flesh in vital points and killing them swiftly. The ravening horde was too numerous for the casualties to blunt the attack entirely and frenzied humans pressed past the dead and dying even before they slumped to the ground to batter the Saurus shieldwall.
Szeratops discarded yet another broken spear and called for a new weapon. A Skink quickly passed him a spear of Druchii make, one of the few remaining weapons that they had scavenged in the brief reprieve after the Furies had fled south. He ignored the pain that wracked his body and lunged forwards within striking range of the foes. These madmen were the polar opposite of what the Old Ones had intended for humanity and they must be slain! He jabbed the barbed spearhead into the unprotected neck of one attacker, and before the man even realised he had been injured the spear was ripped out and swung to the side, catching another in the side of the head with one of the bladed spikes.
Szeratops tried to push forward into the warrior behind his second victim but over extended himself, stumbling forwards and almost falling from behind the safety of the shieldwall. It was only the quick reaction of one of the frontline Saurus warriors that saved him. The hulking Lizardman had roughly shouldered the Eternity Warden, shoving him back and to the side. In return for saving his leader the Saurus was hit heavily in the snout by a wild flail strike, audibly breaking the reptile’s skull in several places. The blow was not lethal and the Saurus fought on, but it was no small injury and would surely claim the warrior’s life before long.
Uttering a warrior’s curse Szeratops stepped back away from the front line. He glared savagely at the humans and for a moment he felt as though his predatory urge to tear them apart with fang and claw would overcome him. No, that would doom them all. Giving in to the wild aspects of being a Saurus was not how he became an Eternity Warden and it would achieve nothing here. Reluctantly he turned his back on the battle and limped as quickly as he could manage to the Glyphgate.
Assembled here were all the Skink Priests. Their magical powers had been rendered useless for combating the Khornate warriors by the blessing of their Dark God and the oppressive hold he exerted on the battlefield so now they focussed their efforts on the mysterious portal.
“Eternity Warden. We are no closer than before,” one of the Priests spoke. “The Blood God loathes sorcery and the winds of magic are not in our favour.”
Szeratops nodded in response. This was what he had expected. From all his experience fighting the forces of Chaos he had known that the power of Khorne would impede their progress and was likely to nullify their power entirely given time. He did not anticipate it would happen so quickly though.
“There is more,” the same Priest chirped. “We have… lost Hexoatl. We cannot feel its presence.”
“It has fallen?”
“No, we do not think so. We have lost our connection to the Slann and the Geomantic Web. All Priests can sense it, even if we cannot tap into it. It is through the Web that we can sense the presence of the Slann and they can use it to command us if they so choose. I have felt it all my life until now.”
“What does that mean to us? How does that affect our situation now?” Szeratops growled.
“We don’t know. This has never happened. The Geomantic Web cannot be destroyed, otherwise the entire planet would be sundered apart.”
“Good. Then we persist,” the Eternity Warden turned to re-join the battle raging on behind them.
“There is something else though, something that the Web was overpowering. Szeratops…” the Skink used the general’s name for the first time. “We MUST open this gate.”
Szeratops cracked his neck and flexed his claws. He hunched forward and shook like a beast shaking water from its hide, taking note of every ache and pain, every muscle that seized, every swollen joint, every stab, scratch, bite and tear that punctured his flesh. He rose to his full height again and looked down at the Skinks, who had all turned their eyes to him. He was ready.
“You shall have all the time you need. I will hold this pass for eternity alone if I must.” His gaze turned to some of the Skink skirmishers who had taken up the role of scavenging weapons. “You – fetch me armour and a shield.”
The Skinks glanced at the wounded Saurus leader with concern but done as they were told. They dismantled several lightweight Druchii chainmail suits to create a patchwork shirt and bound it to their General with leather straps. Over this a bloodstained black iron breastplate taken from a fallen Chaos follower was painfully beaten into place. Bit by bit they affixed scraps of armour to their leader until a truly sinister figure stood before them.
“Form Cohorts,” he spoke to the Skinks in the Saurus battle-tongue. “Defend the Priests.”
Szeratops rejoined the Saurus regiments defending the pass. They had been forced backwards several steps and several had fallen, including his erstwhile saviour. He pushed his way to the front and took up position next to the Spawn-Leader. Watching the next frenzied mass crest the hill and charge towards the pass he thought of the lost potential of mankind. They were worse than the Wayward, reduced to degenerate slaves of the ultimate enemy. Fury rose within him. Unlike the unbridled rage of the Blood God, his own wrath was focussed and with purpose.
Raising his shield above his head he bellowed a command that had not been heard since before the Cataclysm. A command of utter destruction. A guttural cry to the Gods that had brought nothing short of genocide upon entire species. Translated into any of the mortal tongues it meant “extinction”, but to the Lizardmen it meant so much more.
The Saurus joined him in the call for annihilation and it stirred in them an aggression seldom unleashed. The barbarian hordes grew nearer but this time the Saurus did not wait for them to crash upon the shieldwall. Ferocious beasts of muscle and sinew leapt forwards into the frenzied mob, hacking them apart with blades, caving in skulls with the edge of shields, tearing out throats with claw and fang alike. The predatory fighters tore apart ten times their number in moments and turned their focus to the hillcrest, hungry for more.
Atop the hill now stood three lone figures. One sat astride a mutated horse, bearing aloft a blood stained banner that flapped violently in the hot air. Next to him a mighty champion bedecked in black and crimson plate mounted a beast forged of iron and brass, a foul Juggernaut of Khorne. The third figure was unarmoured and unmounted, garbed in a tattered and bloodied robe. He would have looked out of place with his fellows had his stature not been so enormous and the axe he carried less massive.
Szeratops knew that they would not be the overall leaders of the Horde, but they were certainly champions of Khorne. If there was to be any chance of surviving then they had to be bested. He crouched down and tore a greataxe from the grasp of a dead man, hefting it in one hand he pointed it towards the trio and bellowed a challenge. He couldn’t speak the tongue of man, nor the Dark Tongue of Chaos followers, but the call of combat was universal.
The trio charged down the hill towards him, weapons poised to strike. Szeratops raised his shield and prepared to take the charge while his warriors solidified their position behind him to defend the pass. The horseman peeled off to the side and rode towards the Saurus warriors, obviously leaving the challenge for the armoured champion. The unarmoured giant of a man similarly moved to the other flank, almost matching the speed of his mounted companions. The Juggernaut bore down on the Eternity Warden, its rider levelling a jagged lance at the Saurus’ throat.
Szeratops stepped deftly to the side, using his experience facing down Stegadons to avoid the furious rush from the metal beast. The lance landed a solid blow on his chest but the layers of armour deflected the blow. He swung the huge Khornate axe in a wide arc, burying it in the daemonic beast’s rump. It roared in fury and began bucking, spraying molten brass blood from the wound. The enraged thrashing tore the axe from Szeratop’s hand but the Chaos warrior was too preoccupied with controlling it’s mount to notice. He quickly picked a flail from the ground and swung it at the creature, striking it again and again. The weapon barely dinted the beast but it further stoked the fires of its rage and it became more and more frenzied.
Szeratops was struck again by the lance, this time in the shoulder dangerously close to his neck. The warrior still struggled with his charge but had taken an opportunistic strike at the Saurus. The lance thrust forwards again and this time Szeratops deflected it with his shield. Before the Khorne champion could draw the weapon back for another strike the Eternity Warden grabbed the weapon’s shaft and twisted hard. The armoured warrior was blessed by the gifts of his Gods but he was still human and greatly outmatched in terms of raw strength. This coupled with the ongoing rampage of his uncontrollable beast saw him unsaddled, falling ungraciously from his steed and disappearing in the red mist.
Now armed with the bladed lance Szeratops stepped back and took a defensive stance waiting for the Chaos warrior to emerge from the mist. When the enemy stood he held an axe in each hand. Before moving to attack the Saurus General the Chaos Warrior turned his gaze upon the Juggernaut. The beast turned to face its master and bellowed, a sound akin to a forge’s furnace. With one swift movement the champion brought down his axe and the creatures head fell from its shoulders. Even as the Daemonic creature disintegrated into a pool of molten brass the Chaos Warrior rounded on Szeratops and renewed his attack.
Again and again the axes rose and fell, hammering the Saurus warrior’s shield and armour and occasionally biting into flesh. With the Juggernaut destroyed Szeratops should have the advantage over the human, but the battle had taken its toll and he was becoming slow and his blows soft. A few times he had managed a glancing hit on the thick metal armour, but not once had he managed to draw blood. Another blow landed, striking him in the chest. Pain from pre-existing wounds shot through his body and caused him to flinch just as the second axe came down and bit into his arm. Szeratops lost his grip on the lance and his arm went limp. The axe had cut several tendons and now he couldn’t move that arm no matter how strong his will.
The Chaos champion saw his weakness and laughed. The tainted human’s stance became relaxed. Complacent. He strolled towards the Eternity warden lazily spinning his axes. Still laughing. Szeratops staggered to his feet and growled, the warrior responded by striking him down, raining a hail of strikes down upon his shield side. Weakened by blood loss, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. The laughing resumed.
From his prone position he could only see the red mist, a haze of blood conjured by Khorne’s army. In the mist faces and bodies formed, victims of the Blood God’s host. Humans, Elves, Lizardmen and Orks alike swirled in the miasma. The mist parted and an armoured boot stopped mere inches from his face. He turned his vision upwards and saw a shadow looming over him above the fog. He knew it was only the Chaos Warrior but it may as well have been death itself. Resigned to his fate he closed his eyes and waited for the axe to fall.
He relaxed his grip on the shield and it fell away, releving a great burden from his still-working arm. Unclenhing his hand, he felt his fingertips brush against something. A spear tip from a ruined Druchii weapon. Somewhere one of his warriors howled in pain and the din of battle suddenly became clear. His warrior instincts kicked in, his soldiers were dying. They were outmatched. They needed their leader. Grasping the blade in his good hand he struck out at the armoured leg, digging the metal between the plates below its knee and the human’s laughing became screaming. A second later the Chaos warrior fell into the mists, joining his attacker in the red haze. Szeratops mustered what little energy he had left and threw himself on top of his fallen enemy. He desperately clawed at the human’s neck, trying to pry the horned helmet away while the warrior’s arms flailed, landing clumsy blows on the Saurus’ back and hide. Finally the helmet came away, the wild yellow eyes of the snarling champion met his own. For a moment both of them were still, gazing intently, furiously, hatefully into one another’s eyes.
“Blood for the Blood God!” were the last words the man spoke, and the Eternity Warden tore his throat out with his teeth before the world around him turned dark.
Scar-Veteran
spawning of Bob
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There is no keeping a good warden down. If I could have liked him twice, I would have.
And Fhanados, you have completely disproven my assertion that battles aren't all that interesting. Raise the stakes, keep it personal, raise the stakes again, make it seem hopeless. Taking notes right now.
And Fhanados, you have completely disproven my assertion that battles aren't all that interesting. Raise the stakes, keep it personal, raise the stakes again, make it seem hopeless. Taking notes right now.
Terradon
Fhanados
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Thanks! Battles are hard... they're such a key part of any Warhammer setting (I think it has something to do with the "War" in "Warhammer") but they're so easy to make boring and monotonous. I had something very different in my head but once I had it written down it just seemed like a repeat of the previous few chapters so I took it in a different direction. Honestly I feel like I've left out too much but it was starting to ramble so I cut it short.
Now I've got to figure out what the heck to do with Zpakatax...
Now I've got to figure out what the heck to do with Zpakatax...
Terradon
Fhanados
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Ok so it's been over 2 months since I posted last... which isn't as bad as I thought but still pretty terrible. No new chapters to post today (although Zpakatax will be making another appearance very soon!) but I feel like a rant and I don't want to start a new thread or ruin someone elses posts so here's as good a place as any!
This past year has been TERRIBLE for my hobby mojo. I've probably got more new stuff than I have in a long time thanks to birthday presents, but living in my wife's Grandma's apartment has taken its toll. There is NO space for me to set up even a permanent table to eat off, let alone a hobby corner. It's such an effort even to access my models the prospect of having to set up somewhere to paint, then get my models out of their incredibly inconvenient storage spot only to get in 20-30mins of painting has completely put me off it.
Not being able to paint has put a dampener on my gaming as well. Currently I only play 40k but I really need to paint a lot of stuff to get my army up to a semi-competitive level, so without new toys I was getting regularly thrashed. Also going to competitive events where I'm one of few people with a majority unpainted army was a major downer. I take a lot of pride in my army and having to field something that looks like trash just to compete (and still get curb stomped) really stings.
Living under someone else's (relatively space restricted) roof also means I can't invite friends over for a game. There just isn't the space for it, and if I was to set up a gaming table it would be imposing on the shared space which really isn't fair for anyone in the house. I could go to a friend's place or a store, but the travel time from where we are now makes having a single game an all-day ordeal which can be incredibly draining.
I've suffered a major case of "legion-wobbles" with my Chaos army. I've never really LOVED the Word Bearers as a legion. Yeah, they're cool and I really enjoy the depth of their background but the army was conceived as part of a partnership with a Daemons player who left the game several years ago. To me, it will never be whole. So for a long time I've juggled between the idea of Iron Warriors (tanks and easy paint scheme), Sons of Horus (thanks a lot Black Legion supplement!), staying Word Bearers or some kind of mish-mash of whatever springs to mind at the time.
A combination of all the above has not been kind to my creativity. While I don't actively play AoS or work on my Seraphon army, other aspects of hobbying have kept my imagination going. As my modelling and gaming dried up, so did a lot of my enthusiasm... until now!
The most significant thing is that my wife and I have bought a house! It's nothing special (stupid housing crisis...) but it will have enough space for me to store my things in a way that is accessible, and we have a back yard where I can get out the airbrush or strip the paint off models. Most importantly I'll be able to invite people round for gaming days/nights and set up a table somewhere that won't disturb my wife or wake up my daughter!
The recent leaks of Magnus the Red have given me a new and very solid direction in terms of colour scheme, background and general hobby for my Chaos Space Marines (which I won't bore you with here), which is fantastic! This combined with the Traitors Hate campaign book has given new life to a pretty limp dick of an army. I have plans. Big plans. Exciting plans!
Financially it's going to be a while before these plans kick off, but it has started my mojo flowing again. And flowing mojo means more story!
So thank you for reading my rambling mind-spew and allowing me to indulge in a little selfish wallowing. Watch this space next week for your reward. This tale has much more yet to be told!
This past year has been TERRIBLE for my hobby mojo. I've probably got more new stuff than I have in a long time thanks to birthday presents, but living in my wife's Grandma's apartment has taken its toll. There is NO space for me to set up even a permanent table to eat off, let alone a hobby corner. It's such an effort even to access my models the prospect of having to set up somewhere to paint, then get my models out of their incredibly inconvenient storage spot only to get in 20-30mins of painting has completely put me off it.
Not being able to paint has put a dampener on my gaming as well. Currently I only play 40k but I really need to paint a lot of stuff to get my army up to a semi-competitive level, so without new toys I was getting regularly thrashed. Also going to competitive events where I'm one of few people with a majority unpainted army was a major downer. I take a lot of pride in my army and having to field something that looks like trash just to compete (and still get curb stomped) really stings.
Living under someone else's (relatively space restricted) roof also means I can't invite friends over for a game. There just isn't the space for it, and if I was to set up a gaming table it would be imposing on the shared space which really isn't fair for anyone in the house. I could go to a friend's place or a store, but the travel time from where we are now makes having a single game an all-day ordeal which can be incredibly draining.
I've suffered a major case of "legion-wobbles" with my Chaos army. I've never really LOVED the Word Bearers as a legion. Yeah, they're cool and I really enjoy the depth of their background but the army was conceived as part of a partnership with a Daemons player who left the game several years ago. To me, it will never be whole. So for a long time I've juggled between the idea of Iron Warriors (tanks and easy paint scheme), Sons of Horus (thanks a lot Black Legion supplement!), staying Word Bearers or some kind of mish-mash of whatever springs to mind at the time.
A combination of all the above has not been kind to my creativity. While I don't actively play AoS or work on my Seraphon army, other aspects of hobbying have kept my imagination going. As my modelling and gaming dried up, so did a lot of my enthusiasm... until now!
The most significant thing is that my wife and I have bought a house! It's nothing special (stupid housing crisis...) but it will have enough space for me to store my things in a way that is accessible, and we have a back yard where I can get out the airbrush or strip the paint off models. Most importantly I'll be able to invite people round for gaming days/nights and set up a table somewhere that won't disturb my wife or wake up my daughter!
The recent leaks of Magnus the Red have given me a new and very solid direction in terms of colour scheme, background and general hobby for my Chaos Space Marines (which I won't bore you with here), which is fantastic! This combined with the Traitors Hate campaign book has given new life to a pretty limp dick of an army. I have plans. Big plans. Exciting plans!
Financially it's going to be a while before these plans kick off, but it has started my mojo flowing again. And flowing mojo means more story!
So thank you for reading my rambling mind-spew and allowing me to indulge in a little selfish wallowing. Watch this space next week for your reward. This tale has much more yet to be told!
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tom ndege
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I feel with you, man! Having no appropriate place for painting sucks! Had to paint standing in front of my racks the last months... Horrible! But hey, you get a house and I got a new flat so things can only improve! 
... And now go write this story!
... And now go write this story!
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spawning of Bob
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That is "had to paint standing in front of my Wracks" you Dark Eldar Scum!