Escape to Reality: Thousand Sons vs Chaos Daemons

The Hunt for Ahriman campaign concludes tonight! Does that slippery little Exile have one more trick up his sleeve?

Free!

Ahriman fell into a spiralling hell of colour and noise as he fell through the warp rift. For several seconds, neither time nor space had meaning. Everything was mutable - distance, physics, his own identity, the eventual destiny of the galaxy, everything. 

But he had been here before. Giving into this malleability would make everything that came before meaningless. A few hastily spoken wards stabilised him as he needed himself, and allowed a moment of reflection. 

Merely by having a will to express, he was already shaping the warpstuff around him. Whatever its true form, it was focussing itself into locations, physical places that his mind could understand. Fragments of a broken empire, hanging in space. Much like the reality he knew lay beyond, and also like that, his for the taking. No, that temptation wasn't worth giving in to. He had too much staked in reality. Hurriedly, he moved on.

As he moved, he searched. And before long, he found what he was looking for - a way out. A hanging oval, spinning around a point disconcertingly off-centre, with a hazy vista of broken rock and asphalt barely visible. Whatever benighted planet it was on, it would be safer than here. 

Moving towards it, he could hear the hoots and shrieks that justified his haste. He was not alone. Perhaps some of the denizens of the warp would serve him, for a time. But not all would be aligned with his goals, nor his expressed allegiance. 

Time to escape. 

The Prisoner of Azkriman: Thousand Sons vs Space Wolves & Adeptus Mechanicus

Our Hunt for Ahriman narrative campaign continues. And like Rocky and Star Trek before us, we're pulling out all the stops for part IV

Conscious thought returned. 

Ahriman opened his eyes. Hard light blared into them. It was cold and harsh, painful. An irregular crackling noise, half whine, half static, assaulted his ears. 

He was suspended in a sphere, inlaid with a knotwork of cables, pipes and dials. Skulls stared emptily down on him from each intersection of the elaborate maze. He squinted against the hail of light and sound, trying to make sense of it. Where was he?

0010101100 Come All Ye Faithful: Thousand Sons vs Adeptus Mechanicus

The narrative campaign continues: The Hunt for Ahriman, Part III

Plasma streaked towards him over the dusty ground. There was nowhere to hide from it, no time to protect himself. Ahriman extended his will and with a terrible effort, tore apart the fabric of reality around him. 

The warp opened, and he fell in. 

Old Scores: Space Wolves vs Thousand Sons

This is the big one! The Hunt for Ahriman Part II just kicked up a notch!

Were you #TeamKraken or #TeamStylus?

I was #TeamKraken until I saw Bjorn's stats. Is it too late to change?

Knife Guys Finish Last: Space Wolves vs Thousand Sons

"Where is Ahriman?" 

The voice of the Demon Prince echoed through the Warden's room. The trio of sorcerers knelt around him, each at the cardinal point of a septagraphic diagram, etched into the floor with consecrated acids. It was a courtesy more than anything, a ward that bent reality but a little, allowing the tides of the warp to flow more easily in the room and making it more comfortable for their visitor. Not that the creature seemed to have noticed, nor returned the courtesy. The atmosphere in the echoing chamber was distinctly strained.

"We do not know, Prince Fravash," the first sorcerer said. "He left us here weeks ago."

"And you call yourself bodyguards, Traducio?" the Demon sneered. "I came here to speak with your master. I am disappointed he thinks he can elude me. It is rude. He is rude. I am offended. Would that I could take issue with him in person. As it is, you three will have to do."

Fravash was a champion of the Changer of Ways. His turquoise armour was nearly transparent, an shimmering opal shell behind which you could just see shifting organs, mouths opening in silent screams and the flitting eyes of warp predators. He looked strong enough to rip open a tank, to speak nothing of the coruscating aura of arcane power billowing around him. The three sorcerers carefully avoided meeting his unblinking, red-rimmed gaze. 

The Demon Prince was clearly angry. One wrong word now could easily spell their doom.