Game 2:

Five players today, two guards, two Tyranid players and a small Demon hunter army.  Inquisitor Craig has just rolled the dice and now we are playing annihilation, Pitched battle.  We (The tyranids) are abit screwed.  To keep with the theme, both of us have taken 'without number' gaunts.

The Hall

Deep in the warp a drinking hall was alive with revelry. Think oak beams and bronze braziers filled the round hall and the air was thick with smoke and sound of bravado. For here the brave and the mighty drank. They drank for the honoured dead and the honour to come. They drank for the glory of battle and the spoils of war. They drank for the brotherhood of the wolf.

The battle brothers of the Sons of Fenris gathered here to listen to there great wolf, Hiemdall Oaken-Staff, speak of great deeds of bravery to come. The rumour that the Tyranids have been spotted spread like wildfire and the blood was up. As Hiemdall entered the hall the dull roar of the brotherhood erupted in cheers and calls of battle. The young blood claws screamed for the need to show there worth in battle. The stoic long fangs muttered and grumped among themselves, but they too wished to unleash death and pain on the alien scum. Only the mighty frames of the dreadnaughts stood still and silent. Vast war machines driven by the husk of the once great but the now mighty brothers from before. The great wolf stood before his brothers in silence. His twin cyber wolves growled and flanked the mighty warrior. Slowly the crowd stilled and the silence was broken only with the sound of the flagons being quaffed. But still the wolf lord stood silent. From the back an impetus blood claw (only 56 springs of age) shouted out if they would have to save the poor weak guardsmen. Another declared that all such men where mere boys and old men compared the might of the battle brother. A few more agreed that there was no honour in fighting beside such poor warriors and the brotherhood should shun them and fight alone. At this the wolf lord stirred.

‘You say that we have honour?’ he declared at the cheers of the assembled warriors.

‘You are mighty and honourable warriors and heroes all!’ This drove the crowd wild.

‘Are we not stronger than ten men naked in the snow? With our armour and gear of war we are worth a battalion of the guard, are we not?’ The cries of agreement rattled the beams. Only the older souls in the room looked at the wolf lord with wry anticipation. He was a great hero but a greater orator.

‘We fight for honour and the glory of the fight. We stand before the strong and cast them aside for the name of Russ. We know no fear and watch as lesser men cower in the mud afraid of the dark!’ He cried.

As the din died down he murmured softly ‘aye, we are strong and mighty. Are weapons keen and ready and we look to war for our sport and honour. We look at these men and curse there weakness. What do they fight for? Honour? Glory? Survival? ‘The crowd was straining to listen.

‘Old men and boys fighting the nightmares from beyond do not do so for glory and the saga. No, they fight and die for there wives and daughters, friends and parents. They are weak and feeble armed with little more than toys and sticks. And yet they fight. Hope has fled there hearts. And yet they fight. The long seconds of there torment stretch out and end in terror and anguish. And yet they fight. What greater honour is that? I say to you there is none! We are heroes and strong, yet I am humbled by the honour and bravery of these old men and boys.’ His voice trailed off. Grendal the eldest dreadnought stirred, his vox cracked into life. ‘My lord, we are humbled by your words.’ This was all he said.

Hiemdall looked up at the brotherhood. ‘What say you my brothers, shall we fight with these men of honour? Shall we learn from the weak the true meaning of strength? Brothers I say to you that the woman and children look to the skies and see only black and void! I say we fight! They cry out hopeless! I say we answer! We will not allow these men of honour to fall unmarked! We are to battle!’

The ship shock with the sound of the brotherhood cheering.

Game I: River Bow Holding Action

The River Bow Holding Action

Game: 1000pt each player, two teams of two players
Result: Draw (Imperials hold half of the defences)
Factions:
- Hive Fleet Geiger
- Hive Fleet Behemoth
- Mordians
- Local PDF

Game Photos in order:

Campaign Rules

Introduction
The goal of the campaign for the Harmony Sector is:

• To keep the book keeping to a minimum;
• to have a definitive end in a reasonable space of time;
• provide a framework to tie games into a narrative whole.

Victory Conditions
the first player to Reach a total of 8 victory points.

Factions
This campaign contains the following factions:

• Hive Fleet Geiger
• Space Wolves
• Imperial Guard (PDF)
• Eldar

All factions except Tyranids may form alliances. All alliance members gain the VP' s and Cp's for a game played where they had figures on the field.

Victory Points
Gain One victory point per game where the player was on the winning side.

Campaign Points
For each game played a player may accumulate CP's based on the result of the game. CP's can be redeemed for Veteran Skills or points bonuses in a single game.

• Win = 2 CP's
• Draw =1 CP's
• Loss = 0 CP's

Redeeming Campaign Points
CP's can be used to buy a roll on the Veteran Skills table at the following rate:

• 1CP = Preliminary Bombardment
• 4CP = 1 Random Veteran Skill (Roll once on the veteran skills table E5:p263 and add it to the army list)
• 6CP = 15 % points bonus for one game

Army lists
Games must be played with a valid army list and you must have it available for inspection by your opponent at time of play.

An army list may be changed at any time during the course of the campaign with no detrimental effects.

Using veteran skills
Veteran Skills are gained by a player for their faction by spending CP's. Roll once on the veteran skills table E5:p263 and add it to the army list.

The veteran skill can be applied to any legal unit in the army for a game.

The unit carrying the Veteran Skill must be declared to the opposition at the begining of the game or it cannot be used for that game.

If a unit carrying a veteran skill is completely destroyed (or the vehicle explodes) during a game then the Veteran Skill is permanently lost and is removed from the players faction.

Death of a Bio-ship

+++Once we had called out to our sisters daring each other to swim into the deep warp. Ever deeper we swam, laughing as we went, calling back to our sisters to follow+++

+++Silence+++

+++Regeret+++

+++Oh! The great mother had called to us with warnings, but we had not listened, The Deep warp is a treacherous thing, filled with many dangers. One had seen us and risen from the deep. Its claws had gouged our flanks, its Fangs had bitten through our hide, its breath had warped our very Genes, We struggled, for many ages upwards, ever upwards towards the materium, wile the Dragon fought to take us down to feast+++

+++Alone+++

+++The Dragon let us go, laughing as we fought into the calm shallows of the Warp. Echos of the Dragons laughter still rang though the Warp even as it slipped back into the oily depths. Pain racked our frame, plasma leaked from the canyons carved through our flesh. Then we saw. We saw with a sorrow that rang through our soul. We we alone. The comforting siren song of the Great mother was gone. The Hive mind was gone. we were alone+++

+++Silence+++



+++Pain+++

+++Whispers+++

+++Whispers in the Darkness, whispers in the Materium above. We see a world in the rippling sunlight above, A prey planet, we are tired, the Pain is too much, No longer can we roam the wilderness searching for the great mother. At prey planet we can rest. At a prey Planet we can Whelp. At a prey planet we can die+++

The hilside was silent and dark. A gentle zepher swept around the crest of the hill, playing with the tall grass and shrubs that grew there. A rodent sat on its haunches scanning the overcast sky for threats as it chewed on a nutritious root it had discovered there.
It started when the boom rolled over it. Above it the low hanging canopy of clouds were rent apart as a stupendous claw glowing red hot, emerged. It was quickly followed by the bulk of the Hive Ship. Fragments of flesh and chittin the size of mountains, trailing fire surrounded the dying hive ship in a halo of shooting stars.

The Rodent started for the protection of its burrow seeking shelter from the horror bearing down on it, but nothing could protect it from the impact as the hive ship ploughed into the earth destroying the hill; burrow; and rodent in the same firery instant.

Quiet slowly returned to the new valley where once there had been a Hillside a deep scar had been cut for miles in the black earth. At the head lay a monstrous heap of steaming blackened meat. Ropes of intestines large enough to channel rivers lay in coils arouns a split in its side. The dying corpse of the Hive ship shuddered and lay still for the last time. Down near the base of the great beast deep in a recess between cittn slabs that had once held vaccuum at bay, a sphincter relaxed and slid open. Liquid gushed from the opening in a torrent, carrying with it misshapen leathery sacks, quickly abaiting to a trickle. First one, then another, then more of these orifices fell slack and discharged their cargo of Tyrainits onto the soil of a new world. Soon the feeding would begin.

Of gods and monsters.

‘Easy brother. Our lord is in a dark humour’ The gold armoured Space Marine veteran warned his battle-brother as he ran into the Wolf Lords anti chamber.
‘But brother, I have news of battle! I know it will cheer him!’ The marine stood with a parchment in his massive gauntleted hand. With a wry smile the veteran stood aside and the marine entered the anti chamber.
On the walls of this round vaulted room were the trophies from innumerable conflicts throughout the galaxy. Standards and banners of legions both foul and alien lay in heaps next to broken weapons and armour of equal design and condition. Honours and awards displayed in gold and steel cases adorn the opposite wall. But around the door to the inner chamber were by far the most telling trophies.
Skulls. Thousands of skulls piled and nailed to the walls and door frame. Some were alien, some were shattered and split, and some were human. But all were evidence of the violent power of the occupant.
The inner chamber was smaller and more informal. The far wall was dominated with a vast throne covered in fur and hide upon which the Wolf Lord sat. At his feet were his four bionicly enhanced wolves, each the size of a man and as they slept there vast muscles rippled under their grey fur. In the chamber stood the five figures of the towering terminator armoured honour guard, also there stood the Master of the Fleet and the Iron Priest. The Wolf Lord was indeed in a dark humour.
‘Lord, the repairs to the tanks will take more resources than we have on board. Grendal and Wardam slumber yet but it will be a short time before the sword-urge is on them again and no amount of rituals will assuage that terrible thirst.’ The tone was matter of fact and the Iron Priest stood squarely in the foul glare of the Wolf Lord. A pause filled the room and only the sound of the wolves sleeping could be heard.
‘How long till we land Master Brinnus?’ The Wolf Lord growled at length.
‘The warp is foul here and hard to judge. My best guess is 4 months.’ The Master of the Fleet ventured via his helmet vox.
‘4…months.’ The Wolf Lord strung out the words. ‘Cooped in this iron box like cattle! 4 months is too long for the proud and the brave to endure!’ At this he was on his feet and the wolves began to stir.
Both the Master and the Priest nodded in solemn agreement. This was not a rebuke but a fact understood by all present. From the doorway the marine stepped forward and fell to one knee in deference to his lord.
‘Stand brother and tell us your views of 4 months confinement in this cage!’ the lord gestured to the marine and turned to face the wall behind the throne. There lay none but a simple bracket and his mighty Frost Blade axe.
‘I feel the 4 months is indeed too long a time lord (at this murmurs of agreement came from the assembled marines), which is why I have brought you this transmission we have intercepted!’ The room turned its attention to the parchment and the Lord turned slowly and strode to the marine.
‘What is this? A distress call from a sector I have not heard of?’ He paused as his bright blue eyes scanned the script. A smile spread across the scared face of the Lord. The smile turned to laughter.
‘Brothers, the Tyranid have attacked this Harmony Sector and we are blessed by Russ himself! He heard our cries of boredom and sent a worthy foe! Master Brinnus, maximum speed to this location! Priest, wake the dreadnoughts and tell them it is time to feast on violence once more!’
As the rest of the Battle Barge was summoned to hear the glorious news, far away the people of Harmony saw not glorious battle and worthy foes but blood and terror before them. Space Marines may be the gods of death but the Tyranid were truly the monsters of the darkest fear made flesh and claw.

'and so it began...'

‘What do you mean the sky is violet, trooper?’ The senior officer bellowed at the scanner operator. In the dim green light of the screen the trooper scrutinized the data again and half turned to face his commander.
‘The sky is filled with some type of particulate matter that is causing the light to refract, well, violet sir.’ There was hesitation in his voice.
The commander straightened up and glared around the tiny operations bunker. In front of four other screens sat equally perplexed troopers. Comms have been down for 36 hours now and the small PDF fortress was on high alert. Since the order to increase to tier one of defence readiness the fortress was a hive of activity but in the ops bunker all was dim green and cogitator chirps.
‘Sir! I have intercepted comms traffic from central command and fort 125!’ The shout was tinged with fear.
‘On load speaker trooper, NOW!’ Commander and five operators strained to listen to the static filled comms transmission. Screams and pleading for help was punctuated with clam orders to give a situation report. As it ended so did the hope of the commander for reinforcements. Despite the garbled nature he recognised the sound of troops being left to die. Slowly he turned to face the door of the bunker and stalked out slamming it behind him.
A violet sky greeted him and he looked up to the heavens for some sign of salvation. Did the Emperor see this far from Terra? Could he hear his single prayer for deliverance amongst the deluge he receives every second?
He did see something fall from the sky. But it was not deliverance. Not at all.
‘Trooper, send a distress signal. ‘The simple order was the last act of the commander’s last breath. The next sound he made was a wet rending shriek.


The Lictor turned with an unnatural grace and faded into the wall as the bunker door opened.