Knockromundout Grand Final: Chaos Helots vs Corpse Grinders

 

Is it, Jerri? Is it time yet?

It certainly is, Blaargh - Juves and droogs, hold on to your wild snake and shoot those stubbers in the air, let's hear a big Underhive welcome to the first Necromunda Knockout Grand Final. Have we got a battle for you tonight! Let's meet the teams!

King Burger and his team of illegal flesh-eaters became cannibals after discovering the horrible truth about corpse starch in Necromunda. Whisper the fact - not all of the corpses are human! Rather than risk contaminating his precious body with unspecified proteins, KB swore to only ever eat fresh, ethically-sourced free-range hiver, the kind that has at least had a chance to fight back. 

Storming to victory by eating their way through two flavours of genestealer and The Holy Order of Cawdor Knights...

Didn't eating genestealer kind of break his vow?

...hush Blaargh, nobody cares, Murder Meat have munched their way into the grand final. One or two of them occasionally shoot, the rest just charge forwards shrieking incoherently - it's tournament sport at its finest! Backed by Kasfunatu, one of the richest whisper merchants this side of Molten Quays, this deadly pack of carnivores is the bookies' favourite to win because they're too scared of them to back the other team.

Over here these guys got a Helotta bottle - Stairway to Heathennnnn, give 'em a shout! I was down in the dressing rooms asking them how they got into dark rites, but they were all too busy chanting in some weird language to answer. Same way most people do, I reckon, they joined their housing association general meeting and things went downhive from there!

You saw 'em overrun Orlocks, Goliaths and Escher, just through sheer weight of numbers. Guess you can't argue with a ton of sweaty bodies out on the arena floor, 'specially when two of them are big ol' slobbery mutants! Gonna be interesting seeing how they handle the maneaters - they have the firepower and the manpower, sure, but they sure ain't as tough one-on-one. 

JnLk is their sponsor, an out-of-Spire warlord from the far northern wastes from what I hear. Rumour says when he speaks to you, you always hear distant crying in the background. Creepy deepy!

Down on the arena floor, the technicians have just finished welding together something extra-special for the final game. Let's take a look!

 Wobbly boy momma, it's a tiny hive spire!

Tiny in comparison, Blaargh, but a towering monument to the bloodsport we love. A five-level ziggurat, and we've stashed the trophy on the top layer. First team to get up there and bring it back to their deployment zone gets to keep it. 

That's sweet'n'simple, Jarr, the way yours truly likes it best! 

No easy hill to climb, the Trophy Tower is short on stairs and long on legwork. Not much cover once you're up there, either, so our teams will have to decide. Do they rush for the cup and risk being king-konged back down to earth, or do they try something a little more tactical?

Are those computer terminals off to the sides anything to talk about, Jarr?

Who can say, Blaargh? It just might be that enterprising gangers could crack the security codes and maybe activate shortcuts, defense turrets or booby traps, who's to say?

I spent three hours with the user manual and all I got was toothache. 

If you have a strong suit, Blaargh, reading isn't it. I hear the klaxons, the teams are setting up - let's see where they've got to!

That's the Corpse Grinders ready to rock along the southern edge. King Burger has 'em in three groups. Three or four down each side, then he's leading a big bunch straight up the gut with his banner guy Cheese to keep 'em nippy. 

No infiltrating for the Grinders today, but there's a couple ready to turn up later as reserves. 

If they can find their way through the vents, Jarr, it's a real maze out there!

Stairway are doing more or less the same. Three bigger groups, one for each flank and one for the middle. Demagogue Robert Factory is heading down the left side, their Witch is taking the centre and they've got a tag team of Disciple Jon-Paul Bones with his heavy stubber and the monstrous Mothershit roaming right. 

The arena officials are running for cover! 

That's the signal - it's time!

Turn 1

You always know what to expect in these opening moments, Blaargh, and this final match is absolutely true to form.

No shots fired, nobody hacked to death - it's killing my buzz, Jarr!

Plenty of movement out there as both teams pelt towards weapons range. Cheese has planted his banner and sent the entire middle and left flanks hurtling forwards from the Grinders, while the Helots are moving up a little slower. King Burger is leading the charge in the middle there, he seems determined to grab the trophy in person.

Smokes out!

Yes, those Helot guns are already threatening enough at range that the cannibals are covering their advance. That, or they're just hoping to give the meat some flavour - either way, that heavy stubber has nothing to shoot. 

No fair!

It may yet backfire - it's also giving the Mothershit a chance to close in, unscathed by harpoons. Here's hoping!

Turn 2

Shototototots fired! Yeeah!

The cultist disciples are in position, they've got big angry men running straight at them - it's Necromunda 101. Blow them up before they reach you!

Poom! He's head over heels!

Lovely frag grenade action from the helot back line, tossing Filet on to his back. Not hurt, but he won't be charging in, and that always puts a dent in the Grinder plan. Cheese is still chanting away in their rear, sending his compatriots pounding up the decks and nearer the top, but he's made a slight tactical error - by trying to keep both middle and left in range of himself, he's ended up stuck in a cul-de-sac he can't quite climb out of. 

I think that little guy's going for a computer! 

Yes, under the cover of smoke, Onion Ring has climbed up to the left-field terminal, but he's using his vantage point to shoot at Mothershit instead. Hard to tell if it noticed, that was some pretty wayward shooting. 

Still no heavy stubber! Come on, Stairway, Blaargh needs his daily lead fix!

True - the teams are mostly foregoing violence to work themselves into good positions. Both sides have flamers nearly ready to open up on the right, and the middle is swarming with cultists of both flavours. Do the cannibals have the edge for now?

Dunno, Jarr - they're nearer the top, but they're kind of in the open out there. If the Helots get some good shots in, they'll be in trouble!

Turn 3-4

Looks like the Corpse Grinders are springing into action - flames all down the right flank!

Flame grilled! Spa-whooosh!

Too eager to close the distance, the helots are packed in tight. It's cost them! Joe Quarter, the Helot's own flamer operator has caught fire and exploded, leaving two of his teammates cowering on the floor and another running for dear life. 

There's only cheap life in the Underhive, Jarr!

At least there's plenty of it, Blaargh - having so many gangers knocked around in a single shot would certainly rock most teams but not the Helots. It's a drop in the ocean, and their next wave is already moving up, led by Demagogue Robert Factory and Moby Dick, their spawn. Lots of autogun fire in the air, the Corpse Grinders down that side are pinned in position, and it could get ugly fast for them out there.

Not as fast and ugly as that Warp Horror!

My word, no - rolling through the smoke cloud like a tumbleweed of mince, that huge fleshy abomination has piled straight into the Corpse Grinder left flank and is taking names. 

Slap! Whopper must have felt that! 

Incredibly, it hasn't quite toppled the big Cutter. I think he's actually using his own intestines to whip the monster, not to much effect. But he's now being ably assisted by Royale, who's standing on the first step of the ziggurat and poking the big bear with his chain glaive. Not quite sure what he's hoping to achieve there, but it's pretty ballsy!

Zinger Tower and Happy are heading round the right side of the pyramid, straight at the Helots there. I think I smell a firefight coming!

Not if Timmy Grant-Song has something to say about it. Folks, this is a cultist so cocksure of himself he's turned up to the final entirely unarmed, and he's still running towards the enemy like a World Eater at a nudist beach. Will he clog up the firing lines like the Helots seem to be hoping, or just be a brief amuse bouche for the Grinders?

King Burger is nearly at the top! A couple more metres and he's got the cup!

As he struggles up the tower, though, he's giving Jon-Paul Bones plenty of time to get into position, set up his heavy stubber and take careful aim...

Turns 4-5

Carnage? Khornage? I don't know which I like better, but there's a bleep-ton of both out there!

The Mothershit has eaten well, finally flattening Fillet and then bouncing up on Royale too. Amazingly, he's the second Grinder to somehow last more than three seconds against that roiling horror, and he's actually managed to put it down! 

What a turnaround! I'm like a blind man on a train track, Jarr, I never saw it coming!

Little good it's done him, he's still missing most of his skin and clearly a bit dazed, and that's made him easy meat for a quick burst of autopistol fire. Ignominious!

More'n a few of the Grinders are down, Jarr, but they got their reinforcements coming!

In a manner of speaking, Blaargh - not one of those initiates is anywhere useful. The Underhive pipeways never take you where you want, and these two pistol-wielders are out of position as they pop up through hatches in the rear, miles from the action. 

We're not missing a thing from up here, though. Slup! Zinger Tower just carved that Helot like a rotisserie ham!

And he's backed up by harpoon shots, knocking the Helot's witch over before he can bring his aura of madness to bear. That whole side of the ziggurat is an intricate dance of action and counter-reaction, one team trying to goad the other into walking into hails of fire or winkle them out of cover, and I'd say the Helots have just about got the best of it. 

Makes up for their Demagogue!

Ouch, yes, that's a blow. Charging round the corner and attempting to gut Quarter Pounder, the Helot leader has fallen extremely foul of a rotary flensing saw. Not so much a face-off as an entire front half-off. The Helot right flank is starting to fold, and even sending Moby Dick bouncing in might not be enough to plug the gap. 

And the bomber!

Dash Mere has indeed flung a very inaccurate demo charge, aiming for Whopper and instead immolating one of his own comrades, I'm not sure which one and I'm not going to bother finding out, he's just so much paste now. Quite a crowd pleaser, at least!

Death! Death! Blue screen of death!

Onion Ring has finally attempted to boot up one of those terminals, perhaps hoping to find a way to give his boss some extra cover up on the main spire as he reaches for the trophy. But it's not to be, he's just about worked out how to turn the monitor on and nothing else. 

Does that mean it's heavy stubber time?

Jon-Paul has the big gun lined up. All he has to do is steel himself to shoot at the terrifying figure of the Grinder's Butcher, ignore the more tempting target of Whopper just underneath him and then somehow hit - it's a lot to ask of one ganger. 

No it's not! Just shoot him!

His finger's on the trigger, he's squinting through the sight - if this connects, all that climbing could be wiped out in an instant...

Turn 6-7

...And he's flubbed it! He's absolutely flubbed it! 

Noooooo!

Knee-deep in casings, that's an entirely backpack's worth of stub shells spent on decorating the distant ceiling. He's out of ammo and out of time!

Burger's got the cup!

He certainly does, he's jumping back down and handing it to Whopper, who's relaying it down another two levels. The Helots are swarming up the left flank in some numbers, though, they've really broken through there, so the Grinders aren't out of the woods yet. 

Reckon they'd be on the back foot if it wasn't for having the trophy in hand, Jarr, they've kind of struggled with the Helots out there. 

Yes, they're outgunned and outnumbered, and it doesn't matter how many screaming lunatics you throw at a Chaos Spawn, they just don't really notice. This is all about that trophy, though, and as the Helots desperately rush up to intercept, Murder Meat are remarkably switching to a cool passing game, just handing the trophy on to the next man in the line and running it back to their base. 

There's still a chance for Stairway! Wendy Levy-Brakes could still pull off an autopistol interception!

It's a desperate last-minute shot, it could just stop the Grinders getting the touchdown, it's a lot of lead in the air...

Denied! 

That's it, that's all folks, Murder Meat have brought home the bacon! We have a winner!

Jarri, I got some big feelings here.

Blaargh is weeping like only a canker sore can, and I have to tell you, I'm not in great shape emotionally myself. What a ride, what a journey it has been, all the way back from the first eviscerated juve in the opening qualifiers to this free-form free-for-all festival of fighting. The crowd are absolutely beside themselves, punching and kicking as the front of house staff desperately try to close the refunds desk, and I'd say the blood has only just started flowing tonight.

I'm going straight down to the locker rooms to get Burger's reaction.  

You're doing no such thing, Blaargh, we can make out the screaming from here, and it's safe to say he's either extremely pleased or eating the rest of his teammates raw in some kind of unholy frenzy. 

Can we at least go try steal the trophy?

Now you're talking my language. Folks, we're signing off as we embark on a new career as fugitives from cult vengeance. It's been our pleasure to bring you this spectacle - I've been Jarribix Klabbs...

...I'm always going to be Blaarrggh...

And that was the KnockRat! See you out in the wastes, Violence Fans!

Bleeeee-ooooo!

H. Corbu presents
The Mothershit Burger
At participating restaurants near you

Remember - kill it before you eat it