So the Low Bar was closed for renovation. Rebuilding, really, if you wanted to be accurate, since the Saints of Detritus had redistributed most of the place across a half a hive dome. Anyone who wanted a hit of Wild Snake had to stand in line outside Father von Kurtz's Communion Kitchen and say a prayer for their soul. Nobody was happy about it, but unhappiness doesn't get you drunk, so muttering a Throne Hail seemed better than nothing.
The Delaque weren't taking it lying down, of course. The shifty S.O.B.s threw a few credits around, paid people to look elsewhere, and as soon as the line cleared, they started shooting.
Back to the Hive - five games left before our Campaign is done, and I'm 800 credits behind my Cawdor rivals. I also have fewer kills and less territory, my reputation is shot and to cap it all, my entire gang is suffering from severe male pattern baldness.
Time to stab someone in the back.
It's my turn to challenge. We're using some modified encounter tables, courtesy of the nice folks at Goonhammer, and I've rolled The Trap. Which means my lot (or at least those not resting up after our last drubbing) are hitting the Cawdor in their home turf. Sounds like a great plan, right?
At least there's a chance I can get my boozer back if I win. All I need to do is kill more of his lot than he does of mine. Obligingly, because Cawdor swarm like flies, there are more targets for me. We'd usually get six each, but the faithful have an extra ganger and two extra juves tonight.
What I get is a ton of tactics cards - two random and four then carefully picked from the Delaque list. I'll need them!
The set up favours the attacker, sort of. Bubonicus sets his gang up in groups of two, with the first stuck in the centre of the board. I then pick an edge and take careful aim from it. After that, he rolls for each other group, and on a 6, he can deploy where he likes as long as it's 6" from me.
This happens for none of his lot, which means they're also within 6" of the centre. Singing a nice psalm together, I expect. It also means I get priority automatically, plus any of his lot have to pass a Cool check in round one or lose an action. Quick, kick them while they're down!
You're Barred
The rest of the Cawdor mill about, repositioning, hiding and moving away from my Nachtgul, who has a reputation.
I've got a plan for my attack, and I start setting it up. The plan is this - get my Psygheist, Mumm, to focus his powers through his Psychoteric Wyrm, then have it lurk round the front line providing a big bubble of psychic slowdown to the enemy. He hangs back, the others pick off targets as they can.
It's a good plan, but it requires the Psygheist to not stuff up his mental power, which he does. The rest of my gang move up to back him, which they immediately regret when Blessed Brother Baldrick slaps an inaccurate frag crossbow bolt right into my leader and his pal Schtum, flesh wounding the latter and knocking them both over. How he gets those shots to curl round corners, we'll never know.
Then Brother Rollo, a greatsword-wielding whack job with some history fighting Nachtguls, comes barrelling in and starts slashing. Tyst loses a wound and can't hit back thanks to the sword's long reach. Who exactly is ambushing who here?
Bard Target
If that first turn didn't quite go my way, the second turn does nothing to help me. Although I steal priority, I get off to a terrible start when Tyst the Nachtgul tries to charge Rollo.
See, Rollo has hideous scars. In fact, he got them fighting Tyst in a previous game, and it means that I need to pass a Cool check to charge him. Tyst has also suffered various head wounds in the past (Rollo really hates him), and presumably when Rollo starts shouting "You made me like this!" and pointing to his deformed face, Tyst has a bit of a moment.
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| This is a picture from slightly later, after my leader has psychically hurled Rollo to the floor |
Rollo's fanboi, Initiate Korlus, comes charging in to help his pal, but fluffs his attacks. Luckily, Tyst fluffs back, so there's a stalemate there for now.
Trying to break this, I send a lasgun ganger, Sylenz, to snipe at the Cawdor flank on the opposite side. It's a miss and an ammo check. Hurrah for lasguns, at least!
Having lost the momentum, I then get charged. Sylenz gets hit by one Brother Stoker, another greatsworder. Luckily I escape with a flesh wound, and Quietus quickly repositions and fries the guy with his plasma.
Next, I get my plan from round one into operation - a group activation from my leader to get out of bolt range, then the Psygheist powers up his Utterance power. The Wyrm is in position, and I could just leave it there, slowing down Rollo and Korlus so they can't keep charging me.
But no, I get greedy! The Wyrm charges in, trying to catch Korlus in its champing jaws. Alas, I totally fail to connect, and then the skinny beggar clobbers it with his flail. No! My clever plan ruined, and only myself to blame!
Worse - Brother Heckler, the bomb rat expert, starts sending his remote rodents in our direction...
Bar Humbug
...Which doesn't quite work out like he wants. The rat goes wild, heading in roughly the right direction, but in such a way as to bottleneck half the Cawdor in a key avenue of attack.
Baldrick has repositioned, and starts hurling krak bolts in my general direction, but can't hit anything. Quietus, on the other flank, is faced with Deacon Frost, newly recovered alcoholic and chainsaw monster. I can hit him, that's no problem! Over the next couple of turns, the crazy cleric soaks up six plasma gun hits, two on his ablative cherub and the rest when I forget how to roll higher than two.
The Nachtgul goes down to a swinging hit from Rollo, but before he and Korlus can get away, the Psygheist is on them with his paralysis bubble. Just to really rub it in, my leader knocks Rollo down on his back, so there's no chance he's doing anything to escape. Schtum rounds the corner and trains a pair of pistols on him - the damn swordsman is clearly made of steel, I can't get a single wounding hit in!
Both of us, in fact, have a pretty dismal couple of turns. Heckler sends inaccurate bomb rats in a variety of useless directions, nobody can hit or hurt anyone, and we all look very incompetent indeed.
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| A typical moment - my wounded guy is surrounded by fanatics who can neither hit nor fry him, but he |
Eventually, of course, the Cawdor numbers start to tell. Quietus is rounded up and penned in with flamethrowers, his useless hairdryer of a plasma gun failing to help at all.
One of those stray bombs rats eventually heads in the right direction, dropping on to my leader's head and knocking off most of his wounds.
And Rollo takes an absolute age to take down! He breakfasts on buckshot and shits slugs, it seems. Three turns of concentrated fire is required to finally sit him down for good.
But by that time, my goose is cooked - I'm bottling, surrounded and increasingly on fire. I do manage to hold on long enough for my last ganger to cop a krak bolt to the noggin, and that's all I wrote!
Barney Do
What a mess - I curse myself repeatedly for stuffing up that Wyrm play. If I'd just put it sensibly nearby and kept the power going, the Nachtgul would have survived and feasibly taken that flank out. Although my dice would probably have other ideas, in fairness!
At least the injuries aren't too bad. My leader picks up Impressive Scars, and although Schtum has to be taken to our resident Rogue Doc, he survives the operation unscathed. The Cawdor aren't quite as lucky, picking up a couple of nasty scrapes. Korlus is also under the knife, and although they save him, he seems to have lost a lot of flesh in the process (losing a point of Strength and Toughness, ouch!).
I didn't get the bar back, true. But House Delaque send me a free ganger to help out, I finally afford a sniper rifle for Sylenz, my specialist, and Schtum picks up a second boost to his toughness from experience.
The Cawdor mostly save their money. All that surgery was expensive! So now I'm just waiting for their next move...
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| Walk towards the light, Brethren! |
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