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User:Psykerdeblanker

2026-05-12T05:51:34Z

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Britbongsteros

2026-05-12T05:46:43Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010227 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

:What was/is your favourite campaign reward?

:Best reward?
:A small, stuffed, purple toy penguin was returned to its rightful owner.

==The Setting==
The world of Britbongsteros was the same as our world was until about 15th C but then suddenly ''magic''. This fueled science which fueled magic etc etc. We later discovered this was because of a device at the North Pole which had been keeping the magic from the world. It is here in our world and working. In the world of Britbongsteros, it blew up in 1497.

*The British empire existed. Lots about that in the story parts.

*'Murica was weird
:Due to an effect of local magic in New York (where the only American we met was from) you had to keep eating, all the time, but if you did, you became incredibly strong and fat. (Sorry America). America is a magical place (like /k/) and each state or couple of states has something weird going on. The eastern seaboard is reasonably normallish with crusades being mounted from the area into the middle and western regions. Numerous native American nations hold territory throughout the area. The Native Americans are famed for their aerial prowess with Apache Dragons being particularly feared. The Chinooks strike deep in American states and have excellent logistics. The Cherokee are famed as air cavalry.
:New Orleans is underwater. The mermaid elves are probably pretty happy. Except the sentient sharks. And the voodoo.
:The Americans would be pushed into the sea were it not for European Crusaders attempting to push through to get to the supposed holy land which for (insane Mormon reasons) is somewhere in Utah.

*France
:Was just all slutty elves. That was good.

*Germany
:Was a mix like Britbongsteros except that they also had bear people.

*Poland
:Doesn't exist as it does in the modern world. It's more the Poland of 18th century. The Lancers (actual eaglemen) war with both the Germanic bear people and the Russians who are (like the Germans) mostly human but with plenty bears and also wolves. They also have literal bear cavalry.

*Switzerland
:The place is already Britbongsteros enough. The Swiss are heavily armed, sit on huge piles of money, and wired the entire country for demolition. I really cannot Britbongsteros that.
:The Swiss have remained solidly out of the affairs of Britbongsteros, remaining normal, painfully so.
:It is this normalcy which is their greatest strength, they have no hell portals, weird dragons or any other shit. This is why they're trusted by Europe as bankers.
:They are also fiercely independent and want to keep the lunacy of the rest of Europe out, they patrol the mountain passes, slaughtering ANYTHING remotely non human. Their mercenaries are famed throughout Europe for their proficiency in taking down magical entities, making them highly sought after.
:Also they make quite good chocolate. The Belgians of course disagree, saying they make the best beer and chocolate.
:Each year the Belgian dragons send one young (human sized) dragon to compete against the Swiss champion chocolatier in unarmed combat.
:They send the same dragon to fight the German BrewMeister as the Germans claim they make the best beer.
:No Belgian has beaten both in one year. It is said that should a Belgian beat both. Europe shall tremble.

*Sweden (and much of the north)
:Deserted because of Ragnarök.

*Spain
:Ruled by king Quixote, a noble and honest knight who won the support of the peasantry through his charm and chivalric deeds. Spain is a haven of peaceful learning and culture. All thanks to the steady hand and suspicious mind of Prime Minister At Large Sancho Panza, and no mistake!
:Those Spaniards who didn't fit in with the chivalric ideal were exiled to the nightmare of South America. The Aztecs and Mayans hold strong in mountain strongholds.

*Greece
:Is 18th century Greece. The gods ascended 1500 years ago and now it's a shithole full of poets wondering where the majesty of Greece went. (Sorry Greece)

*Italy
:No one has heard much of the place, but rumours of a second Roman empire have been heard.

*Central Africa
:Is still marked as here be (literally) dragons. There are European colonies on the coast and a little into the interior. North Africa is much as it was in Roman times (I.E. quite civilized).

*The Middle east
:Is full of Arabian nights + huge reserves of magic oil. A clusterfuck waiting to happen. A Britbongsteros citizen (Orrance) advocates for Arab self rule.

*Australia
:Full of criminals. All the people still alive there are one man armies.

*China
:The terracotta armies hold back the Mongol horsemen (I.e. actual centaurs) along a towering great wall. Some trade now occurs with Britbongsteros, tea for opium.

*Japan
:Was Godzilla'ed with no survivors. The group loathes all things weeaboo. Additionally, anyone who even mentions the country, or swords, or weaponry, or Tasmanian shadowpuppetry summons Godzilla, and Godzilla will annihilate them and only them.

==The Party==
Throughout our adventures there were always at least five of us, and usually six. These are:

*'''Angus''' - An orc from Dundee. Originally a greengrocer but also horrendously proficient with the flamethrower he carries. The flamethrower doubles as a thermic lance.
*'''The bard''' - A human, wears a kilt, plays the bagpipes. Occasionally has great ideas. The DM uses his own taste in music for what the bard actually plays (so usually classic rock or country & western).
*'''Cruella''' - Essentially a Dark Eldar wych wearing more clothes. She is vicious and stealthy. Armed with two daggers and a sword that she talks to. Played by Aldous' PC's then (and now again) GF. The latter fact occasionally becomes relevant which is why it is mention it.
*'''The wizard''' - Not actually magic but can command metal (iron) and summon various sharp or pointy things. Including chainsaws.
*'''The Navvie''' (also called Burt) - A very large human with a hammer. He hits things with it.
*[[File:A_B_Findus_the_III.jpg|thumb|right|100px|Aldous with Purple Penguin]]'''Aldous''' - The character of the one telling the story. A dwarven knight. Wears full plate. Carries twin revolvers and a gatling shotgun. Smokes a pipe.
*'''The purple penguin''' - Moral compass and possible DM PC.

==The Story==

===The Beginning===
It may be best to begin with character creation.

As we know, the party consisted of five people:
:Angus: An orc
:The bard: A human
:The wizard: A wizard (no shit)
:The Navvie: A large angry human
:Aldous: A dwarven knight, also me.

I will describe in a little bit of detail how each of us started out. As a reminder there would be five of us (there were eventually six players) during these adventures as the other player hadn't joined yet, though she did usually sit and drink wine on the sofa and listen (which is how she decided to start playing. There were a couple of her interjections which are worthy of note, so her player will show up every so often.

By the way, the DM is a dick. That's all you need to know about him.

Angus:
:"I want to be an orc."
:"Ok you're an orc. Good for you. What else?
:"Well Orcs in this setting live in Dundee right?"
:"Yes...?"
:"Nothing exciting has ever come out of Dundee right? So I should be boring, I should be something like... like a... greengrocer."
:"You're a green-greengrocer?"
:"YES!"
:"Ok, what would you bring to the party?"
:"Well I should be inventive maybe, bring some technical skills, I can maybe do some social things right?"
:"Sure let's go for it."

The Bard:

Japan does not exist in this setting. Godzilla does. He will kill and eat anything even vaguely weeaboo. This was made extremely clear to the Bard's player in advance (he likes to be an edgemaster katana wielding trench coated sunglasses wearing faggot).
:"I want to be a Samurai!"
:"Japan doesn't exist. No."
:"Well ok, I'm just the one samurai who was sent away to regain my honnah..."
:"No."
:"Shipwreck samurai!"
:"No."
:"Magic samurai!"
:"No."
:DM: "Look, fuck it. Japan was destroyed totally. No survivors. The end."
:"Oh ok, how about I roll a bard?"

The Wizard:

The DM and Wizard's player had already had an extensive chat about the mechanics of wizardry in the setting, as Anon may already be aware, the wizard wasn't magic in the sense of your average time traveling D&D magic bastard. The idea being that he could only control metal, he could do whatever he liked with the stuff, but it would take time and there'd be DM fiat on his powers. He would receive a bonus to controlling anything iron based as that was his clan.

So essentially that was the Wizard. (They'd spent rather a while working it all out together).

The Navvie:

The Navvie's player is a simple chap who takes a simple approach to life.
:"Ok. What do you fancy being?"
:"I will have a hammer. I will hit things with it. We're done."

Aldous:
:"Well, firearms are a thing... so I'd like to play as a specialist with ranged weapons, maybe a brace of pistols..."
:"You're not playing that fucking elf again."
:"I'll be a dwarf, an angry one, a Dwarven Noble, bitter and twisted, someone who has suffered a great deal, and seeks for new meaning in life or a means to end it."
:"Hmm... ok I like that, we're good."
It's worth mentioning we did work out little backstories for ourselves so we all had origins and backgrounds, but that's essentially it.

:''>How it all began...''

The story begins when a god falls out of the sky. He hits the marketplace in Dundee. We all have our reasons to be there be it working, shopping, drinking or traveling through.

There's a light in the sky, people are looking up, it looks like a comet, but it's low, it's coming down, it's coming down towards the marketplace.

It's coming down fast, running isn't going to help, nor is cover.

The comet isn't just coming down, it's screaming, actually screaming.

We can each make it out now, the shape of a man, wreathed in flame.

He hits the ground hard, thunderously so, People are knocked flat by the shockwave, people start to run, five people advance on the crater.

You five.

The five us look over the edge of steaming, smoking crater. The man isn't jam as you might expect. He also has a pretty large pair of antlers growing out of his head.

He opens his eyes and looks at the five of us. He speaks in a language none of us understand. Gesturing at himself he says what we can only assume is his name. Belatucadros. At least that's we think it might be.

The five of us look at each other. There's quite a large crowd gathered behind us.

There are shouts of "What's going on? What's in there?" We decide to perhaps maybe talk to him. To try and do something a bit more positive than gawp.

We descend into the crater. On closer inspection, his legs are broken. He's rather a lot bigger than an ordinary man, bigger than the Navvie, at the very least twelve feet tall.

From behind us, the crowd are making different noises, screams, there comes a gun-shot, then more.

The bard (remember none of have actually met one another at this point) looks over the top of the crater.
:"Fuck this, I'm off."
The Navvie and I look at one another, Angus looks out as well.
:"UNDEAD!"
The crowd are fleeing, there are undead making there way through, slaughtering as they go.

We are unarmed, The Navvie and I can't carry what must be 800lbs of god. We can't just leave the fucker, Angus offers to help. The three of us do our best to pick him up, to drag him from the crater. We are surprised when he becomes lighter, the fourth, so far silent, person in the crater still hasn't touched the thing, but an iron bar supports the gods lower body, enough that we can carry him. Enough that we can run.

So we pick up Belatucadros (who I'm now going to call Baz for short) and book it in the direction Angus points.

As we run, we push past large numbers of terrified people, on the other side of the square we can see organized ranks of skeletons advancing line abreast. These skellies aren't your common or garden variety ones, they're clad in armour, they look like roman legionnaires more than anything.

We get into what must be Angus's shop. The Navvie suggests locking the door, which Angus does. The windows are small and easily boarded up. The shop is semi-detached, next to it is the inn where the rest of us happen to be staying. The skeletons we can see are advancing on the crater.

Baz is asleep.

Clearly they want Baz.

We know that necromancery has been an ongoing problem for a while as general knowledge and they're probably evil for that reason.

We start talking to each other as we board the place up.

Introductions are made.

There's movement from behind the counter. We improvise weapons (a tack-hammer, my pen-knife, the Navvie's fists, and a couple of hovering chainsaws), the bard sheepishly pops his head over the counter. As does a tiny animated haggis.
:"Eep" said the Haggis.
:"Hi... guys" said the bard.

Realizing the bard probably isn't a threat, I mention that my weapons and armour are next door, as are the Navvies' things, and it turns out, the Bards pipes too.

Angus is already rummaging to try to find something to improvise as a weapon, remember he is a greengrocer, and therefore does not sell much in the way of threatening items.

Across the square, the undead are beginning to break into buildings and clear them, obviously looking for Baz.
:"How are we going to get our stuff?"
The Navvie solves the problem by making a Navvie sized hole in the shelf, wall, and a couple of tables on the other side of the wall.

We recover our accoutrements easily enough. The Inn is deserted, now armed and amoured, we see each other for the first time as potential warriors and allies rather than men caught in events we don't understand. Also the Bard is there and his familiar: "Haggis." (yes it was called Haggis).

Angus's shop is not as defensible as we'd like and peeking between the boards on the windows we can see that the undead are starting to turn our way.

The most defensible location nearby is the Steeple Church, the (amazingly enough) Steeple of which is practically a tower, perhaps we can hold out there with Baz until the soldiers from Oliver Barracks or Marines from any of the RN vessels in the harbour can try to retake the town.

We decide to leave, Angus empties the register, leaving a "back soon" note on the counter, and guides us to the back door, which he makes a show of locking behind us (the hole in the wall he appears to have neglected). He is carrying a large sack of what we can't really identify as anything other than "bitz". We also think grabbing some food and beer might be a good idea.

We slink through the backstreets toward the Kirk, we can already smell smoke and there is still the occasional scream, we can hear the Undead smashing down doors. It can't be long before we're spotted, so we move as quickly as a group of men carrying 800lbs of unconscious god can, Angus directs us and we can already see the Steeple above the houses, but we can also hear the crackle of gunfire from up ahead.

Just before we enter the square we decide to ditch Baz for a minute. Apparently the Haggis will keep an eye on him (ok Bard...).

We round a corner and see a detachment of Royal marines unloading into a Testudo of skellies. The Skellies are not going down easy and are slowly, surely, advancing on them. The Skellies have their backs to us, we could break their formation.

It's here we have our first defining moment as a party.
:"Are we going to help them?"
There's four fuck yeahs and a "sure whatever..." the "sure whatever" earns the bard a stare from the rest of us.
:"Fine you can stay here and watch..."
This is also the first interjection from the sofa of
:"Hah, faggot."
:"Ok, I'm in!"
At this stage we are all very very basic, some of us have fought before, others have literally no idea what they're doing.

The bard is extremely helpful in that the first thing he does, is start to play (this was our first experience of the Bard's music). The DM must have queued this up on his laptop, because as soon as the Bard says
:"I am gonna play an inspiring song."
the DM slaps the space spar and [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdqoNKCCt7A Simple Minds - Don't You (Forget About Me)] - which was then followed by several already slightly drunk players singing along.

Of course what the DM didn't remind him was that we are the better part of fifty feet from the Skeletons, roman skeletons with perfect drill, the rear rank does a 180 towards us.
:"Well shit."
Once we got over the idea that the bard playing music meant that we actually got music, we are staring down a rank of 15 odd skellies with very big shields, which we are a tiny bit unsure about how to kill them.

The wizard goes first.
:"Guyz, I have a plan..."
He summons a 10lb iron ball. It hovers in mid air, it starts to rotate in place, gradually gaining speed, meanwhile the Navvie and I start to jog toward the enemy. Angus at this point, as a self declared party face, isn't really sure what he's gonna do, but he definitely has a sack of stuff, which he plops down and reaches into.
:OOC: "Angus, what are you doing?"
:"I'm a social character, I dunno I could..."
:"ANGUS YOU HAVE NO SOCIAL SKILLS AND THIS IS NOT THE TIME."
:"I pick up a brick and follow the other two!"

At 25 feet or so I stop and open fire on them. The rounds from my revolvers punch through the shields just fine, but what they're doing to the Skellies behind is kinda hard to tell. One falls and a couple are looking quite shaky. I keep firing, stopping to reload and then emptying the cylinder again.

Angus jogs past me after the Navvie. He stops, reaches into the bag (still holding the brick) and goes for a bottle, which he somehow fashions into a rudimentary molotov cocktail. It sails through the air. It shatters on a shield. Then the one who it hit is shattered into bits. Angus celebrates what he sees as his victory (he never seemed to realize it was the redneck-cannonball that did it, but we didn't have the heart to tell him either) as the Wizard summons some rotary saws, the redneck cannonball does however zip into the main body of skellies, momentarily breaking their formation and buying the marines some time.

The Navvie is starting to realize that even with me firing at Skellies, Angus prepping another molotov and the Wizard keeping his flanks clear, him and his hammer are still running straight at ten or so skeletons. He decides, rather than run away, to take the innovative decision of running at them faster.

The reasoning is easy enough to follow, they're in a single line, one skelly deep, if he can break their formation and keep going, they can't surround him. He smashes one to the ground and gets a glancing blow on a second and keeps going. Skellies may be tough but they are not bright, with some turning to follow him and others advancing on us, they are easy enough to mop up.

We have our first victory! Go us! We are heroes! Except there's still the least 75 more skellies.
:"Ah."
The marines are doing a fairly good job keeping them back. Another wizard-cannonball (turns out it's rather effective if your enemies are man sized, don't have guns, and just happen to be lined up) helps break the formation as we hit the Skellies in the rear.

The rest of the combat sees skeletons pinned between us and marines. When the dust settles there's us and about fifteen marines left.

We retrieve Baz and head into the church. We also retrieved the haggis. By the time we get back, the marines are starting to dig in, ripping up pews and smashing windows to make firing ports.

The rest of the city is burning, there are a fair number of huddled civilians within the church as well. The marines are lead by a sergeant with a very impressive tache. They are short on ammunition and are happy to have us with them.

Outside there do not appear to be many skellies about, yet.

Given the way the rest of the city is suffering and how quiet it seems here, we maybe sometime before we are relieved.

Baz semi wakes up. He doesn't look terribly well. Indeed he looks a bit worse than when we found him. He sits up, looks around, vomits into the font and collapses on the floor.

Meanwhile our attention is drawn to the skellies beginning to file into the square.

We pool our knowledge, the marines seem happy to keep doing marine things and leave us to it. We decide to get away from the smell of Baz vomit and head up into the steeple.

On getting the height advantage we realize several things:
:1. Yup this city is fucked.
:2. That's a lot of Roman skeletons.
:Why are they Romans? Well necromancers like bodies/skellies that in life were trained (it sort of helps with drilling the skellies), and the Romans did actually do quite a lot of stuff around this area. Don't put it past an intrepid go-getting necromancer to have gone to Mons Graupius and raised the Roman dead, for example, then to have continued the theme with any other corpses.

It was about here that Angus decided he wanted to call them Zombans. We told him if he tried we would throw him from the tower.

The bad thing in particular about it being Romans is Romans are rather good at military engineering. We have a feeling if this turns into a siege, we aren't going to have a chance to starve to death.

We can also see larger shapes on the skyline, undead giants we think. The ships in port are streaming out to sea while the RN vessels fire on the giants.

It's beginning to get dark. The skellies have surrounded the church but aren't doing anything else. Baz pukes again and we attempt further communication.

There's a lot of grunting, and some sign language. In the end, Baz makes writing motions, Angus dips into his sack and comes out with a stick of charcoal. He then ignores everyone else while tinkering with some bits.

Baz draws a picture on a flagstone. It's him and he has some other (what we assume are Gods) around him, surrounding them are lots and lots of little floaty things. He then scrubs out the floaty things, drawing them instead around a second picture, a skull. He then pointedly draws a line through one God after another, until only Baz is left.

What the wizard and I construe from this (the Navvie deciding that alcohol is dangerous in a situation like this and is plugging down all the beer we brought to protect others from inebriation) is that all of the souls that were keeping Baz and his God friends going (I.e. folk who died in their territory) have been hoovered up by the necromancers.

Baz and co. are not likely to have had a great many living believers and now he finds himself the only one left.

Baz then promptly passes out again. Angus is still tinkering. People are starting to get hungry (not a good time to be a haggis). The undead aren't coming because (we assume) church, but we are stuck in here without the forces to get out, we assume they are trying to keep us here until they can bring up something that will let them in. Be it siege engine or magic or something.

We are starting to ponder.
:"Why not give them Baz?"
We decide against it because giving them an actual God seems unwise.

It looks like stalemate for now.

Having decided not to hand over Baz, we consider our options again, sadly our options appear to amount to die, or wait for them to break down the walls, and then die. Attempts at finding catacombs or tunnels under the altar or other standard church type things prove fruitless. It looks like we are here for the duration.

There is movement outside.

It looks like whatever they are waiting for has arrived. A patch of darkness coalesces into a vaguely humanoid shape. If we had to guess, it's probably not a good sign at all.

The Necromancer (who, to differentiate him from later appearances, we will call "Frank") hisses and clacks his teeth together a bit before remembering how to speak.
:"You have something we want..."
Deciding we aren't going to lose anything by responding we ask
:"What's that exactly?"
:"You have my sacrifice. Give him to me and I will let you leave unharmed."
At this point we owe nothing to the country, we have no royal charter, and we have no purple penguin. This does not however mean that we believe him.
:"Why don't you come and get him!?"
The necromancer doesn't seem terribly amused. He makes no reply but there is an almighty thump from the doors as a battering ram is deployed.

We manage to get a look outside. We expected your common or garden variety battering ram, what we did not expect was (one lore check later) the iron man of gorbals (esoteric, but it is on Google) to be clubbing at our door.

We have another problem. There is a commotion among the civilians. We decide the doors are our biggest threat and with the marines firing onto the skellies below as they try to get ladders against the windows, we decide this place may not be as sanctified as we hoped.

The iron man is... well basically a big iron and flesh construct. The wizard is definitely going to be able to do things to it, but he's going to need time. We smash out the stained glass windows and do our best, he seems resistant to shot, hammer, and... Angus? Where are you?

Angus joins us with a large bucket of something flammable, from the smell it's whale oil (rather common as a means of providing illumination), he douses the iron man who although going up like a torch, otherwise isn't terribly bothered.

There's screaming from behind us now

The iron man judders and stumbles, it seems the wizard is doing something... he collapses against the door. A large, flaming object, against the wooden door.

Arse.

It's a strong oak door, toughened by the years, but if it fails we are beyond fucked. The iron man is still banging weakly at it.

The wizard does his best to shore up the door and simultaneously encourage bits of the iron man away from it, reasoning it is Angus's problem, the Navvie and I leave him and the bard to try and put the issue out while we see what is up with the civvies.

We are just in time to see a marine get his throat ripped out by a granny. She screams unlike anything we have heard before, a banshee wail. It appears the undead may not be inclined to come in without a necromancer like Frank to strengthen their animus, if you're in the church and happen to expire, as granny appears to have done, you're fair game.

Some of the civilian corpses behind her are starting to rise.

The marines at the windows are tied up keeping the rest of the undead out, it looks like this is our problem. The problem is that this is becoming an exponential issue as dying civilians rise and kill others, who themselves also rise. We get stuck in as best we can, but it's not long before the Navvie and I are surrounded, fighting back to back, thinning down what is slowly becoming a horde. At least we have their attention... or do we... It seems like some are making for Baz.

When some of the nearby bodies ignite, we at least know help is on the way. Joined by the others, we fight our way to Baz, just as a patch of darkness begins to form above where he lays.
:N.b. a recently reanimated corpse in Britbongsteros is not a zombie, it retains all of the thoughts, feelings and emotions it did when living, but the will of the corpse can be subjugated, otherwise they just gradually go feral as the brain dies off.
:The undead came in three (for want of a better term) tiers:
:1. Zombies: the recently reanimated, still bearing the memories of life, uncoordinated, crap in combat, but excellent as a horde. If reanimated but not subjugated they would go feral as the brain decayed, eventually becoming...
:Tier 2: Skellies. Tough, violent and able to be perfectly coordinated by a necromancer, as there is nothing left to contest the body.
:Tier 3: if you had sufficient angriness or something left to do, you could end up as a wight or revenant. Also falling into this category are banshees, who are tough, but the banshee "spirit" can possess a corpse where it knows there is likely to be a lot more death to follow (I.e. it is going to be able to do some wailing).
:Tier 3.5 is ghosts which I will have to remember to tell you about later.

Cù Sìth is what we would identify the thing as once it appears over Baz, but we settled on Giant Fucking Murder Dog.

We stand together, there's a giant fucking dog thing (it's alive/demonic/who fucking knows, but it's in here and it's the size of a bull) and it's standing over Baz. It lowers it's shoulders and growls.

We look at each other, we look at it, it's do or fucking die now. Five men, one haggis. Let's do this.

The bard plays for us [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_2D8Eo15wE Ram Jam - Black Betty 1977] while the undead smash into the Kirk through the windows, marines retreating behind us, trying to keep our backs clear as the beast lopes toward us.

We can see light beginning to come in through the windows behind it, but it's by no means sun up yet.

We run to meet it, pistols and molotov taking it at close range, the harpoon now sticking out of its side impedes it. As it gets in close, the Navvie's smacking it in the face as it goes to bite down on the noisiest target: The bard.

It gets a mouthful of Haggis instead.
:(DM: "That thing was retarded you can either lose that or lose a leg.")

Bereft of the daftest member of our party, we club the thing to death.

The sun is definitely rising, but it's by no means light enough to give us hope, we turn and stand with the marines, of whom there are not very many left, the couple of surviving civilians do their best with candlesticks. It's about now that Baz wakes up.

We know Baz as an 800lb lump of useless, smelly, vomiting rubbish, what we do not know him as, is as a god, and he gracefully, slowly, pushes through our lines. The predatory bulk of him slamming into skeletons. As impressive as it is, there's only one of him, and an awful lot of them. Also there's a Frank.

His skellies have opened the door, and as Frank drifts in, Baz is swamped and pulled down like a stag by hounds.

Frank wouldn't be any kind of evil necromancer if he didn't gloat a little, but he's also eminently sensible about it. As Skellies bind him and lift Baz out, he gives us an oddly cheerful wave.
:"Goodness that was a lot of effort wasn't it? Why bother? You could have avoided this and all of these people wouldn't have had to..."
The pistol bullet takes his jaw off. The Navvie speaks for all of us.
:"We didn't ask to be here, but you know what, fuck you."

Frank beats a retreat with Baz in tow, the rest of the Skellies push toward us, we retreat to the altar, using the stairs to hold them off as best we can.

The sun is up now, and in the distance we can hear the guns on the ships. The shell that takes out the other half of the church makes life somewhat easier.

Eventually we collapse, weary, tired, and grumpy in the light of the early dawn.

We are taken aboard the HMS Victory, this by no means feels like victory, it feels like a beginning, after our story is confirmed by the surviving marines and civilians, we meet Dan Defoe, agent of the privy council. He's quite a guy.
:"Well you didn't quite do a perfect job lads, but we think we know where Frank went, it's not a job for conventional forces, and I have a royal charter here that offers you some excellent benefits to signing up."
:"What benefits are these?"
:"Revenge, money, arms, women, and being alive to enjoy it."
Angus looks troubled.
:"What about my shop?"
:"Destroyed in the shelling, or if it wasn't I'll arrange it."
:"My... my... my family?"
:"See above, you signing or not me ol' green matey?"
Five signatures are added below the extremely impressive signature of "Queenie - Love and Hugs. P.s. I'll chop off your balls."

We sign the charter, accepting the Queen's shilling and agreeing to finish what we started. Well that's not quite right. We didn't start anything. Some giant bastard with antlers fell out of the sky on us. We are not best pleased, but given the choice of fighting further or being disposed of in some unpleasant manner, there isn't really a choice at all.

Dan Defoe (quite a nice bloke really) continues, giving us the best intelligence the crown has on what Frank (our local neighbourhood necromancer) is likely to do next.
:"The short answer lads, we have no fucking idea."
Well cheers for that Dan.
:"But we do know he (Frank) has a fondness for Romans. It's likely he may be camped somewhere near Battledykes (yes that's a real place).

The party, and we are starting to think of ourselves as a party now, are at this point still aboard HMS Victory while Dundee slowly burns. Battledykes is about twenty miles north of the city. If that is where Frank (not actually called Frank but it's easier than typing "the necromancer") has gone, then it's likely this is also where they have taken Baz.
:"Hey Dan, if we are servants of the crown does that mean we can get stuff?"
The DM makes a fatal decision here.
:"Well I'm sure the ships stores can be made available to you within reason."
:>Roll some dice
:>Angus beams
:"I wonder if anyone will miss this flamethrower..."
We also make off with a quantity of explosives (dynamite) and ammunition.

One of the ship's boats drops us ashore at Invergowrie (Down the coast a bit).

So our merry little band set off on our first adventure, we have a necromancer to slay and a quest. We feel like proper adventurers!
:>It starts to rain. Heavily.
:>It's also cold as fuck.
We try to push on, on foot, along a road rapidly turning to mud, downtrodden refugees heading in the opposite direction look more than worse for wear, they at least can take shelter in wagons. The bard begins to shiver.

We are barely two miles inland and soaked to the skin. Frozen, we start thinking of looking for a barn or similar to wait out the storm. We find a small cottage, there is smoke coming from the chimney and it looks warm and cozy.

We knock on the door hopefully. Starting to feel rather sorry for ourselves in this weather, yes we have some gear with us, but it's bitterly wet and cold, and we were up all night fighting the undead (if you can't tell we are being punished for our own stupidly here).

The tiny old woman that answers the door tells us that we can bugger off.

The offer of money gets us permission to stay in the barn and the offer of soup.

Feeling a bit happier (Angus seems to have a sniffle) we decide, given we set off late, that maybe we should settle down here for the night, warm up, and generally be of some use tomorrow.

The rain beats down hard on the roof, despite the well maintained farm there are no animals. We should perhaps find this odd but maybe they're all out to pasture. It also seems to be just the old woman.

After the soup we feel drowsy. Very drowsy indeed.

We do our best to stay awake, deciding one of us should perhaps remain on watch, I try to stay awake with my pipe. I'm replaced by the bard, then the wizard, the wizard wakes the rest of us just after midnight.

There is something coming up the road. It's still raining too hard to tell what, but we strain our eyes in the darkness.

There are a number of them. A small force even. We can't make out much, they look from a distance like sturdy, wizened old men, each is wearing what (as the old woman opens the door to the cottage, we seen in the light to be) a bright red cap.

A little lore checking denotes the strong possibility that these might be [http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Redcap Powries].

A Powrie, or red cap as Anon will see from the link is a sort of species of dwarf, well armed and bloodthirsty, the titular hats are dyed red with blood and they must re-dye them regularly.

The Powries begin to deposit various dead things on the threshold (we note that they never cross it), these include the butchered carcasses of deer, a boar, and three or four concerningly human shaped things. It appears the old woman has been cooking for these things.

:A note on the powries of Britbongsteros
:A native tribe or race, local to the Scottish borders, entirely mercenary, they prey on travelers. Each is armed traditionally with a long spear or pike. They are excellent woodsmen and incredibly fast over open ground.
There's also enough of them that we are totally boned if the old woman tells them we are....
:>She points in our general direction.

What exactly do we do? There's not much we can do. We decide to wait until they get closer and see what comes of it.

About half of them walk toward the barn. The other half seem to have flat out vanished. As they get closer we can see the wicked talons on their hands, their fangs and the rain washes the blood dripping from their hats down their cheeks.

They open the barn doors below us. As the others have disappeared, we wait in the hayloft, ready at least to take some with us. The Powries don't seem to have realized we are there, they are below us, collecting up tools, what looks like farming equipment. Maybe we might get out of this without bloodshed?
:>Probably not.
One of them sniffs the air. We do our best to stay quiet. It shakes its head.

Seems everything turned out better than exp...

The other half of the Powries have been scaling the wall of the barn.

Everything goes crazy, there are Powries everywhere, there's gun fire and bagpipes, screaming, shouting and by the way. Did you know, using a flame-thrower in a wooden building is actually not wonderfully smart?

Now the barn is very healthily ablaze and we are nearly surrounded by crazy angry midgets. Taking our inspiration from Ghandhi as to how to deal with this we...

No of course we don't. We shoot them.

Fun powrie fact. Outrunning a Powrie is (according to mythology and therefore our rules) impossible. We need to kill each and every one or we will have mad red hatted tribesmen jumping out of bushes as we stumble around the countryside. The bard, as always, is useless. The wizard summons and chucks sharp implements about. The Navvie (surprise) has taken rather well to combat, and remember this is the first time we are spilling actual blood as opposed to battering skeletons.

Angus is finding the whole situation troubling.

As a reminder, Angus' backstory is he is a shop keeper. That's it. Turning living beings into pillars of fire is a new experience for him, and not one he enjoys. The Navvie reminds him that if they kill us, they will eat us. That seems to help, but what really assists, is Angus getting a pike through the shoulder. He then utters the immortal word of vengeance.
:"Ow"
Reaching into his bag of tricks and coming up Molotov, he has a fistful of each.

Now a little note about our DM, you may sometimes get told if you're doing something stupid. Sometimes.

Angus's attempt at (with some rope) making a flail of molotovs does not work. He sets both of his feet on fire, along with launching flame bottles scattering across the barn. Miraculously none of us are set alight, but it does provide quite the distraction, allowing us to beat down the rest of the Powries.

With the Powries removed, we decide the best thing to do is get out of the barn. It collapses appropriately dramatically as we do so.

We debate having a further chat with the old woman who sold us out. We decide probably best to play it softly as we would quite like to stay in her cottage (it being night and raining torrentially) on the other hand, that fire is going to attract every kind of ne'er do well for miles

We decide it's worth the risk (we don't want the DM to consider giving us pneumonia), the old woman is actually surprisingly grateful that we "got rid of the Powries." We are only going to be nice back if we can check her pantry (The Powries had been bringing her human shaped things). She dislikes this idea.

The wizard is able to sense the magical build up and attempts to shove the Navvie out of the way of unpleasant looking ball of dark energy. Shortly afterwards we add one granny to our kill count. Shortly after that, we are reminded (we love you DM) that we ate her soup, which a check of the pantry confirms was not kosher.

I hope anon never faces this situation. You've got tasty delicious possibly human in your belly.
:>The DM pops his first beer
:"Well chaps, who's going to puke first? As a reminder this was your first hot meal in a while and it was a little time and one combat ago..."
Angus decided that actually he's an orc, so he can really can't be a cannibal anyway. The rest of us take a different approach.
:>laughter occurs from the sofa.

We bed down, feeling oddly disgusted with our selves and our murderhobo conduct. Consider: we turned up, killed everyone, burnt down the barn, killed an old lady, then were sick in her garden. We're proper adventurers now

Now that that clusterfuck of a random encounter is dealt with, we meet the morning, new and fresh, ready to greet the new day and march onwards to Baz, glory, and not being killed by our own monarch while probably being killed by skeletons.
:>onwards
We don't move as fast as we would like (having about twenty more miles to traverse) but we get through daylight without much issue. Our pace is slow as we start to come into necromancer territory - I.E. nearing Battledykes.

N.b. you can follow along on Google maps when places get mentioned.

What does necromancer territory mean exactly? Well it's not quite as weird as you might expect. The gardens and fields are overgrown, the kirkyards and cemeteries lack occupants. The land itself is still green and verdant, there are no creepy Halloween things, it's just very, very quiet.

Thinking we can't be far from our objective, and that we are not attacking a necromancer, and his minions in the dark, we make the decision to bed down someplace. We decide on a good sized farmhouse near Lunanhead.

I take the first watch.

We do not light any fires because muh stealthy. The moon up and I'm just thinking of waking Angus when I see movement on the road below. Lots and lots of movement. Ranks of skeletons march past, followed by war machines, undead giants (who come from Stirling - that is relevant later), but the skeletons are not the Roman ones we are used to.

I wake the rest of the party. The wizard. Then Angus. The Navvie. Then Angus. Then the bard.

Wait a second....

In the hushed darkness there's definitely me and five other shapes. That is a bad number. I should add, the DM has mentioned the extra human shaped shape to me via note, he's still describing the army marching past to everyone else.

Ok. So, if I give the alarm we could end up summoning the army. We also don't know what the extra body is, or even who it is.

The Navvie is easy, even in the darkness you can just tell it's him. Angus you can tell by smell, I know I'm me, the bard, wizard and... thing(?) on the other hand are all very similar silhouettes.

I can't just say "one of you is an impostor" I also can't start shooting, Angus is quite sharp when he wants to be though. He rolls perception. Then goes full retard.
:"Something doesn't smell right here..."
He grabs the.... The bard.

The shape knows it's been rumbled.

What is the shape? That's a remarkably good question. Our first thought however is not to worry about that. Instead we dog-pile to prevent whatever it is from escaping.

If anon has ever played any contact sports, you know that if you leap at someone, you're braced for the impact. So it comes as quite a surprise when you miss or meet no resistance at all. Why is that? Because it's a ghost.

This is our first ghost we have had anything to do with. As the shape switches from floaty bard to floaty Angus to floaty wizard, we start to wonder if it might not be harmful.

We lie in a pile on the floor. The ghost is silent. It waves it's arms about. It may in fact be harmless? We aren't sure. It is, at the very least, silent, and we can hear things marching past outside, so we should be relieved by that.

The undead of Britbongsteros I have discussed a few times already, but ghosts occupy a rare and unusual position. Can someone be a zombie and a ghost? No. But if say, for example, as happened to a recently deceased person who was possessed or taken over by (for example) a banshee, then that person has to go someplace. Then we get ghost.

However just because it used to be a person, does not make it smart. However it seems to be waving in the direction of a specific bit of floor

We lift a rather mouldy rug and see a trapdoor. Nifty. Of course common sense prevails eventually. Why is it so keen for us to go down there? None of the characters may have ever seen a horror movie, but we do share at least the one communal brain cell.

The wizard, Angus, and I descend into the darkness of the cellar. The bard and Navvie (not a fan of confined spaces) wait up top. By the light of Angus's pilot light we can see it's a bit more than the standard cellar. There is also a body on the ground, chained out so it's spread-eagled. We think this is what our ghost might have belonged to.

The body is so old you couldn't tell what the ghost was in life, nor do we think it can remember. Which is rather sad when you think about it. We decide the right thing to do is try to put the thing to rest.

Maybe whatever originally possessed it has gone? It's just a husk and therefore... We have no idea. Angus suggests just torching it. The wizard seems to think removing the chains is a good idea. The Navvie (in what is for him a whisper) asks from the top of the stairs what's taking so long? The body's eyes open

We weren't really expecting that, or maybe we should have. It also talks. You'd expect the sibilance of gravedust, instead it's almost cheerful.
:"Greetings."
We definitely don't know whats in there, but as its head turns through 360 degrees, burning the thing seems like an excellent idea.

===Devil's Bargain===
So we have a ghost that quite wants to go home and *something* occupying its body.

I need to explain a couple lore checks first before I go on.

Our new friend introduces him/her/itself (or some other Tumblr bullshit) as Brahan Seer, who the bard apparently knows as a famous soothsayer, it also adds that we can call it Black Donald (Which Google will tell you is a name for the devil).

We will just call him Donny.

:>Is it Satan?
We don't think so, Christian mythology is fairly lacking (purposeful choice) when it comes to appearing in Britbongsteros, however the names are helpful in identifying whatever is in that corpse as something we want to chat to before setting it on fire.
:>What does Donny want?
Donny wants us to collect something for him. From the local necromancer. The one we are going to be visiting (shooting), that being our good friend Frank.
:>What is it?
Something which anons who have read the later stories may recognize, but Donny describes it as a glowing blue box. As many as we can carry. If we do that, he will relinquish the body and the ghost can go back to where it belongs.

We agree. For now. For people who were living normal lives until yesterday, things are getting weird.

We head back upstairs and let the rest of the party know, they agree. So we have literally made a deal with (possibly) the devil.

Our next step is to have a good look at where we are going next. Down into Battledykes.

We wait for sun up.

There are still plenty undead about, but they don't seem quite as effective in the day. We also rather need to see what we are doing. Observation shows that there are small units of skeletons patrolling the countryside, there's also a copse of trees leading almost all the way to where we want to go. We cut down into the woods.

The early morning mist gives us plenty of cover, and from up ahead we can hear hammering.

From a distance we could see the beginnings of a Roman camp, which logic indicated would likely be where we would find Baz. It also occurs to us we still don't have much of a plan... Of course not having a plan never really bothered us later and it didn't bother us at this stage either. We did however take some explosives along for the trip, which we are glad of now.

The Navvie lights the fuse and slings them at the wall. They land at the bottom of it, sizzling, a skeleton looks over the top of the wall. It half turns, before shattering as a spume of earth and flame shoots into the sky. The wall is down and we are running toward the breach.

We need to find, engage and kill Frank as quickly as possible, otherwise the skeletons will soon overwhelm us.

The bard launched into a song at this stage. For the life of me I cannot remember what the fuck it was. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7kJRGPgvRQ KORPIKLAANI - Vodka (OFFICIAL VIDEO)] this'll do.

The skeletons are not fast to respond, but they do slowly begin to. As we make it through the breach they are beginning to form up. We can also see a pedestal with Frank on it, aAlong with some chaps in robes.
:>Alchemists
These chaps turn up later as well, but they're responsible for a lot of the more magical/weird technology of Britbongsteros. They react plenty fast.

Angus shoots pillar of flame across the formation of skeletons. It turns out large groups of skeletons with wooden shields do not like flamethrowers. Angus gets this mad, mad, glint in his eye.
:>Oh fuck yes. It werfs flammen.

The alchemists appear to have brought jezzails. They're not wonderful shots, but they fire extremely large boolets. The dent that appears in my breastplate and takes me off my feet is sore as fuck. I'm fine, but not terribly happy about it. The Navvie is very much in his element, he has picked up an alchemist and is using him as a human shield. It works absurdly well. The wizard and I make for Frank.

Frank has obtained a new jawbone from somewhere. He does not seem terribly pleased. Baz is tied up on the pedestal with alchemist looking gubbins humming into life around him, we can see some of those cubes around him. He does not look terribly well... In fact Baz looks rather pale.

Whatever Frank is up to, we need to do something. Soon. We don't know what the machines will do, what Frank is up to, or indeed what will happen if the ritual/process is complete. The Navvie takes a very direct approach to all things.
:"I still have some explosives left right?"
Yesohshitno

He tosses the other satchel at Baz
:DM: "Muh adventure muh BBEG my-"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

A very important DM lesson was learnt that day: Do not trust us morons.

The smoking crater contains one Baz and not much else. The skeletons around us are uncoordinated and bumping into things.

Everything went better than expected? Ish...

Of course, Frank was not the only necromancer around. Of course other necromancers would sense his demise. Of course Frank might have a master. Of course the DM was pissed.

Meanwhile we merrily root about for glowy blue boxes. We find some thinking that should do, and prepare to leave.

When several hundred skeletons turn to look at you in unison, you start to realise there might be a problem.

We have done something that was possibly a bit dumb. We have smashed our way into the center of a small fortress outnumbered, outgunned, alone. Worse still than that, we have angered the DM. The DM pauses for a long, long moment. He looks at us. Each of us. A cold, hard stare.
:>Let's do this.

The skeletons start to form up. Perfect serried roman ranks. We begin to back out of the camp. There's plenty of them between us and that hole in the wall too.
:>Arse

[[Image:Britbong_Roman_Camp.gif|thumb|200px]] This is a fairly typical castrum, or roman fort (I really like Romans).

The red things are skeletons.

Purple is us.

Blue is the hole.

Brown is what we just blew up.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xTeSK7vKdo I'll give you a clue what happened next.]

Well we did blow Frank to bits fairly well. Baz somehow seems to have survived?
:>ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL

That's not our Baz. There's what looks like a femur sticking out of his chest. We assume it belonged to Frank. There's a darkness spreading across Baz's chest. He stands up.

The only thing we really recognize about Baz now is that his eyes have this sad, pained look about them, the rest of him in the simplest of terms looks evil. But why use words when if you type "Dire Elk" into google. That's close enough.

We're outnumbered 100 to one and they have what looks a bit like god on their side. A couple of days ago, we were normal people, this is well out of our experience. We look at each other. Silently we agree. There is only one option.
:>Leg it.

Skeletons are not that fast. Not-Baz doesn't seem minded to pursue us. Instead we make for the hole in the wall. We get through without too much trouble, legging it into the countryside. We stop running, out of breath and more than a little terrified, at the farmhouse.

There doesn't seem to be much in the way of pursuit. We stop in by, chuck the cube thing at Donny, who is vomited out of the corpse. He gives us a wink and an "I'll see you later wink" as the ghost is lain to rest.

We decide we're going to have to go back to Dundee and explain ourselves.

We make it back to Dundee mostly without incident, except accidentally beating up a swan. We make our way to HMS Victory which is still docked in the harbour. Dan Defoe (the inquisitor to our acolytes) is ecstatic to see us, or at least he was, until we opened our mouths.

We explain what happened (making ourselves out to be desperate heroes, tossed upon the vicissitudes of fate). He buys absolutely fucking none of it.
:"So you stopped the ritual. Frank is no longer going to have the power of a God. Excellent. EXCEPT NOW FRANK IS A FUCKING GOD."
He pelvic thrusts and draws his pistol to enunciate his point.
:"At least we have some professionals arriving shortly. They can take care of this, and you useless bastards can take them right back to Frank. The Special Bastard Squadron (SBS) should be here soon. Get out of my sight for a couple of hours."

We are not going to be told twice. We scarper. As we get out on deck, there is what looks to be a man sat on a crate. He is wearing a red tam o' shanter and an egregiously jaunty suit. He gives us all a big wink, a very familiar wink.

We didn't mention Donny in our debriefing (seemed like a bad idea), but we think he's probably not up to anything good.
:"Hallo lads, so you got chewed out a bit I hear. What if I told you there's a way that you can all avoid being shot at dawn as soon as you get back?"
Ok we might be interested in this....
:"What if I told you the alchemists in this city have been doing things they shouldn't? Including nailing me to a floor? And I want you all to be my instruments of revenge. You'll get some brownie points and you will be saving lives, whaddya say boys?"
Tentatively we agree.
:>The DM grins.

:"I want you to blow up an orphanage."
:"Wut?"
"There's no kiddywinks in there, the alchemists use it as a laboratory and machine shop. I have a sneaking suspicion, by which I mean I'm absolutely fucking certain, that the stench of my *he spits over the side, it sizzles* wife is involved. Their experiments require fresh bodies and young, pure souls, and I am sure you'll find an excuse to wreck the place once you see what's going on..."
Interestingly, the DM hands a sheaf of notes to Cruella.
:>Who the fuck is....
She turns up later. It's my Mrs. She was generally floating about in the background and ending up playing with us.

We mull this over, it's a fairly obvious side quest and you never know, it might be fun.

We examine the building from afar. It doesn't seem too intimidating. A large sandstone block, with lots of windows and an enormous yard out the back which it appears is being used as a motorpool. Out the front are tidy and well manicured grounds. The whole thing is surrounded by a wall about five feet high with railings up to a total of 9ft.

Even after the undead attack, it seems entirely untouched. Suspiciously so.

There is also a free clinic being run to one side of it for war wounded, and it sure is busy.

We are not entirely sure what the threat level of this place is. We also know we really ought not to trust Donny. Whatever Donny really is, he doesn't seem like the sort to tell us the truth.

We are a bit pressed for time, but we think we have a few hours. Enough time to canvas the local population and try to gain any intelligence we can on the place. What we discover from various bars and street urchins is the following:
*There are about 50 alchemists in there
*The more severe cases in the free clinic are taken into the basement
*A lot more crates go into the place than come out

What the building gives us is a fairly sizable population, and a whole lot of collateral damage if we blow anything up (civilians in the free clinic and basement), we also don't actually know if we should blow anything up yet.

Fortunately the free clinic also gives us an in.
:>None of us are injured.
We consider this issue. We need an injured person to take to the free clinic. They'd have to be a non-combatant, someone who isn't exactly worried about being low on HP. Maybe someone who isn't even all that useful anyway...
:Bard: "Why are you all looking at me?"
We sort of... err... cartoon violence ball [we club him over the head and rough him up a bit (lot) but not too badly].

The free clinic is glad to take the bard and his "family" in, though the tricky part is convincing them that Angus' flamethrower is entirely kosher. We explain to the extremely beleaguered medics that it's "welding equipment" and in we go (lucky roll).

The clinic is much as you'd expect something like that to be in a recent warzone. There are silent, terribly injured people, screaming slightly less injured people, there's a woman in labour somewhere, and a great number of harrowed, saddened faces. As most clinics in this situation do, there is a process of triage.

There is a woman with dark hair and a very tight bust who (somewhat obvious clue) has a very piercing voice ordering people around, including selecting people almost at random to go to the basement. As we are arguing with the medics about the flamethrower, the bard is selected and carried off.
:Bard's PC: "...guys. Seriously."
No one seems inclined to throw us out quite yet. We have a small council of war.
:"Thoughts?"
:Navvie: "Hey we got rid of him! We're up already. Let's take our winnings and go."
:Wizard: "I agree with the oaf."
:Angus: "Pub?"
:Me: "Pub."
:Bards PC: looks kinda distressed "...guys? C'mon..."

We feel a bit bad for the bard and decide we should probably make an effort to rescue him. It is kind of our fault after all...

There's a couple of large doors into the main building and we assume that's where he was taken. As no one seems to be paying attention to us we decide extremely stealthily, very covertly to... Walk through the doors.

Again, there seems to be very little actually stopping us, there's no guards around, the hallways are clear, we find some stairs and head downwards, carefully peeking round corners and doorways and we find what seems like a place of intensive care. There are whirring machines and glowy things, but as far as we can tell (which is not much) they don't seem to be doing any harm, no one has that ghostly/deathly pale look of one having his soul sucked out.

There are a number of attendants and similar folk, but they are all bent over machine or patients. The bard is still unconscious, and we decide to leave him where he is for now while we try to work out what we should be doing.

(Yes we are all quite feckless)

More sneaking reveals workshops and some rather cool looking machines, there's a ramp out to the motorpool, but there's a shortage of sacrificial pits or demonic altars and general eeeeeevil. We metaphorically scratch our heads.

Is it possible that Donny is wrong? Or just some sort of supernatural liar? It makes perfect sense that he might be. Perhaps he has an ulterior motive? We have just blindly walked into demonic politics. Pretty blindly too I might add.

There are footsteps coming down the hall. We duck into a storeroom. As it's about head height for me, I peek through the keyhole. It's that lady again. Notably her eyes glow red.

Cruella acts the following out with the DM.
:"Did we get what we needed from the bodies?"
:"Yes Mistress, the organs were harvested as you demanded."
:"Excellent..."
:>Oooh we're onto something here...
:"And you're shipping them quickly? They can't be left to lie around."
:"Yes Mistress."
:"Good boy."
:>Well...
We decide to follow her, see if we can find out just how evil this is...

We sneak along as stealthily as we can in the direction she went. We Metal Gear Solid behind some crates. There's a number of makeshift cots set up with very pale people, looking near death on them. They are attended to by what look like monks. One of the patients expires. He's taken away and we hear the whirr of a rotary saw.
:>Those bastards...
A new patient is brought in. A marine, must've been pulled from the rubble of the Kirk. Barely alive. The woman bends over him. Facing in our direction over the body. She slaps the bloodied and bruised young man into wakefulness.
:"You're dying."
He whimpers for his mother.
:"But you can still serve. Me."
:>Oh yes, this is it, we cock hammers, we light pilot lights,
:"Sign here, consent to donating your organs to help others."
She looks right at us, and winks.

There's an earth shattering boom from the harbour that blows in the windows.

She vanishes, we run from the room, out into the motor pool, where we can see the harbour, just in time to see the HMS Victory and the transport ship next to her (which must've contained the Special Bastard Squadron) break into pieces as the Victory's magazine goes up.
:>Motherfucker.
Cruella & DM drink their drinks in synchronicity as they smile big shit eating grins.

We punch the nearest alchemist and pinch a pick-up style truck. Stopping to pick up the bard (who is still a bit pissed with us) we make for the harbour confirming when we get there that the Victory, the SBS, and an awful lot of other folk have been blown to bits.

Donny and his "wife" wave to us as they leave the harbour. Donny winks, she blows us a kiss.
:>FFS

Well shit. What next? It seems then that Donny is in league with the necromancers? If so, why was he nailed to the floor? If he wasn't, why blow up the Victory and the SBS? He must have an ulterior motive. It's also taken out Dan Defoe and our quest giver.
:>Anyone have any bright ideas?

We can't go back and take on Baz ourselves. We could track down Donny though...

We don't really know where Donny has gone though. He left the harbour on a small steam pinnace heading northwards. There's all number of places he could have gone. He's not exactly moving fast though, and we do have a truck... Ooooooh a though occurs...

We follow the coast road.
:>Can any of you drive?
Err...

It's decided the wizard is now our designated driver on the reasoning that as the semi (referred to as "The Jalopy" amongst friends) is made of metal, and therefore somehow his responsibility.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvaEJzoaYZk Steve Earle - Copperhead Road ]

With the bard in the flatbed we tear off up the coast road with a plume of dust behind us. We get out of the city heading North North East (anon can follow along on a map here if so wishes as we are taking the A930). We just about manage to keep Donny in sight as we head towards Broughty Ferry, and then between Monifieth and Carnoustie we lose him, the road missing out on the peninsula there.

A variety of driving related tests later (the rest of us are providing perception based buffs and the bard as usual acts as an adventure appropriate mix-tape).

We break for a moment as the DM goes glassy eyed of Steve Earle which leads into Lynyrd Skynryd's Simple Man. We wave lighters in the air and sing along.

As we barrel through Carnoustie the music changes.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qogVHlmFcx0 Waylon Jennings - Dukes Of Hazzard "Good Ol' Boys" Theme Song]

Oh fuck.

We're at the positively mind blowing speed of 45MPH as we hit the main drag through town (a cobbled single track), there's civilians everywhere. We swerve to avoid. Into and through stalls, bits and pieces of merchandise landing in the cab with us, we are joined by a chicken for a couple hundred meters. We skid, narrowly avoiding taking out a nun who is gesticulating rudely. The skid turns into a complete loss of control.

The rear end comes out in front, we spin, narrowly avoiding a ditch. Up ahead, the local church has let out after a service. There's nowhere to go...
:>Why didn't you brake?
Hahahahah fuck that.

Making a split second decision. The wizard aims straight at the crowd, and the... oh... the ramp shaped embankment leading up to a statue...

The wizard floors it, the statue isn't terribly impressive, more of a sort of wooden figure/marker post. We take the thing out as we get air (I hate to think what've happened if we crit failed any of the above).

We sail over the heads of the crowd. Thumping down on non-existent suspension, we tear onwards.

Getting out of Carnoustie as fast as we went in, Angus shouts for the Wizard to slow down. The wizard takes his eyes right off the road to stare him down.
:"[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-GGEJRz6So I'm making time]."
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

We can still see that steam pinnace ahead. We're catching up.

Around East Haven we hit a fairly sizable pothole. Enough to set us into a spin and burst a tire. We flip and land slightly askew, but otherwise unharmed in a chicken coop. Out to sea we can see smoke from the Pinnace as she gets up a full head of steam.
:>Spare tire?
Nope.
:>Other traffic to flag down?
Fuck no.
:>Plan?
Hell yes.

Between the wizard and Angus's bag of tricks we manage to patch the wheel together with staples and pure orky gumption. It won't be perfect but it'll do. The Navvie helps by acting as a jack with one hand and drinking a beer with the other. The decision is made that the Wizard is no longer allowed to drive. Angus you're up.

Angus gets behind the wheel. He lights a cigar.
:"What colour is the truck DM?"
:"Uuuh... why?"
:"Just asking."
:"Roll for it?" [meaning "fuck if I know and I'll make it up based on how the number somehow makes me think of a colour"]
:"12! It's red."
It was red.

You're basically looking at a Ford Model T in red. With an Orc behind the wheel.

Something that may be relevant at this stage.
:OOC:
:"What happens if I fire a flamethrower straight forward from a speeding vehicle, do we all get toasted?"
:[there is now an argument about this for the better part of half an hour.]
We eventually manage to convince him that if he's going to do it, he needs to drop the speed a lot first.

If any scientific anons can provide me with some form of proof or equation to allow me to definitively settle an argument five years old, I will love you forever.
:Anon says: The thing people forget (and vidya help enforce in people's minds) is that a flamethrower is indeed that - a flame THROWER.
:Even in WWI the range in the trenches was about 14-18, and contemporary flamethrowers incinerate things at 50–80 meters.
:45mph is 20.25 m/s, so assuming a WWI flamethrower (ei: not a particularly cool one) you'll be passing through any flame you throw in under a second - you needed to drop the speed a little, but not a massive amount, unless what you're about to drive through is flammable, will catch impressively AND is directly in your path to slow you.

We head onwards to Arbroath, turns out Angus is surprisingly not bad at driving. We make good time. That little pinnace is starting to get bigger on the horizon. Arbroath however is an issue.

The town seems to have been hit by the undead and there's still plenty of them about. The skeletons have been and gone, but there's plenty of feral corpses (ZAMBIES!) going about. If we stop, we'll get swarmed. We decide the best option is to floor it.

For those who don't know it, it's a small market town & port, it's also where the Declaration of Arbroath was signed (declaring Scottish independence in 1320). Looking at it from the direction we're going, we're at the bottom of a big Y and we want to take the right fork of that Y. We also are going to lose sight of (what must've - now I think about it, have been a very fast steam pinnace - though they have a much less twisty route than us). The first thing we notice is the place is very, very quiet.

We're well into town by the time we start to realize something is properly wrong. We've noticed that there seems to have been signs of fighting in some places, but generally it's as though everyone just up and left.

It's when we hit the crux of the Y at the center of town (near the abbey), and what we later surmise is the poisoned town well, that we realize something is properly amiss.

What's that you might ask?

The zombified horde of townsfolk. Too thick a crowd to drive through, but we're moving too fast to stop at this stage.

We've talked about zombies in Britbongsteros before. You die, you don't necessarily go feral immediately, you have memories, you know you were alive, you know you're dead, and as the brain dies off (unless necromantic influence) you go feral and start eating faces.

We can see some townsfolk are still mimicking life, there's a town crier waving at the crowd a proclamation his missing jaw and dead lungs won't let him read, a mother cradling half a child, but most of our attention focuses on the horde of feral townsfolk that seethe towards the noise of the engine. We're going far too fast to stop.

We plow into the crowd. Zombies reaching over the hood and trying to grab at us as they go under the wheels. Helpfully the tightly packed mass of bodies (who I might add have signs of having vomited black bile on themselves - again indicative to us of generally being poisoned) act as a sort of big cushion, and we are able to slow our momentum and shunt into reverse.

Angus swears and tries to back up as the rest of the party do our best House of the Dead. We start to back up the way we've come. The dead under the wheels are slowing us, slower, slower, stall...

ABANDON CAR.

What we have is significant horde of ex-humanity out for our warm tasty brains. Clearly an issue. However... The Navvie's PC, unusually for once, moans.
:"Zombies are boring."
This angers the DM.

We break into a house, reasoning we can at least get out the back door and put a funnel on the horde.
:>There's no backdoor.
The zombified old chap at the kitchen table looks disgruntled but otherwise harmless as we charge past him, he breaks into his boiled egg as we smash down the back wall of his kitchen.

Arbroath is one main street and lots and lots of rows of twisty turny side streets, we decide to go a few doors up, and bash through the front door.

Zombies are starting to follow us through the old man's house. The old man himself is in the early stages of zombie and abandons lunch and starts hobbling. Angus aims the flamethrower back at him.
:"Dude!"
:"What?"
:"We can't just immolate the old bastard he's..."
:Navvie: "He's a zombie..."
The old man is not moving fast. The zombies aren't planning on eating him, but as he's shoved into the mass of them, his frail bones breaking, ribs cracking as he's carried along by the crowd we can see his arms waving pathetically for help. He might be dead but his body remembers pain and his brain is not quite dead enough to have forgotten what to do with it. Over the general moaning we can hear mumbling desperate pleas.
:Navvie: "He's... sort of a... oh shit. Angus... just burn it..."
The flames torch the old man and the front of the horde.

We smash down the front door of another house figuring each house slows the horde until we can cut back on ourselves and smash back the other way to our transport.

These are small fishing village type houses. Tight, windy, the Navvie has to bend almost in half to fit. The next one we bash in the door of we manage to work out the story of what went on from the scene inside, or we think so.

Young couple. One of the kids seems to have got sick first or maybe the mother. There's a trail of black bile leasing from the crib by the stove. There are half a dozen bodies all leading to the back door, looks like dad was a drunk and didn't get poisoned like the rest. Each of the bodies has its head stoved in. Against the back door is a corpse with an empty whiskey bottle and a bloody hammer. Looks like the family all went feral at the same time and judging by the state of dad, chewed him up a good bit before he stabbed himself in the throat. The Navvie clubs his head as he starts to get up.

We get through the backdoor, zombies a little further behind us now, we decide one more house then double back.

We hammer through the front door. The place reeks of shit and ordure. It's not healthy. There's a shape that runs from us. Too fast to be dead. Survivor. Poor bastard has been locked in here by himself watching the town go crazy and eat itself. We follow him (as we must because that's the direction we want to go). Tied to a chair at the table is a corpse that's well and truly feral. She must've have been a pretty lass in life. Her dress is in what a Victorian novel would have called "Disarray" (for the foreign anons - what's heavily implied here is "necrophilia"). The guy is struggling at the back door. He looks over his shoulder at us. More afraid of us than the horde so it seems. He mumbles
:"I could never have her, until she crawled to my door and..."
The Navvie (who is in front) smashes him in the face with one massive meaty fist. We leave him for the horde.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-UzaZjSNd8 The Day That Never Comes - Metallica]

We hammer out the back door, the horde is far enough behind us that we run up the street. Choosing a house at random, we stove the door in. We don't know how smart these things are but the Wizard does his best to bolt the door back together. Whatever madness is in this house we're gonna have to wait in here for a little while for the horde to thin out and pass back through onto the street now behind us.

The place seems normal. Everything in good order. Seems deserted. We try to make it safe, staying away from the doors and windows, we reason the best thing to do is get upstairs, there we can observe the horde below without as much risk of them seeing us.

We climb the stairs, all seems very peaceful, we can barely hear the horde down the street. The Navvie is still in the lead. He very gently taps on the bedroom door. No noises from within. He taps again to be sure.
:"Hello?"
It's a child's voice.

DM pops a beer and gets that grin again.

The Navvie looks round the door. What the party see is that big, big man, fall to his knees. The little boy, three maybe four years old is missing half his face. Bite marks all over it. You can see the skull through the dead tissue. The little boy says
:"You're not my daddy."
He totters to the Navvie anyway, little legs doing their best, one broken and twisted backward. The Navvie, even on his knees, the kid only comes to his belt buckle. Dry old blood smears his shirt.

The Navvie looks at us, big, brown eyes, not knowing what to do. That kid is gonna turn feral, soon. Great big hands reach down, patting, soothing, shushing, caring. They reach for his neck to snap it.
:"I'm Thomas..."
The Navvie's player wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

He nods.
:"I'm Burt and..."
He snaps his neck.
:DM: "Are zombies still boring you, cunt?"

The wizard puts the body under the bed, thinks better of it, and tucks him into the bed.

We look out the window, the horde is moving as planned, slowly but it's working. We wait.

They seem to have settled back into "holding" mode again, shuffling about aimlessly. We gather at the front door of the house.
:"On the count of 3 boys"
:1...
:2...
:3...
The hammer blow takes out the front door, and we pelt across the street. The Navvie shoulder barges down the door. There's ferals in here and we're forced to make noise as one grabs Angus and gets him on the ground, I shoot it in the face. The chase is back on again.

Out the front door, into the next building. This building faces out onto the main street and looks like a shop. The glass window lets what zombies still remain on the main street get a good look at us. Deciding the door is pointless, we go for the direct option, out and straight through the plate glass window together. There's enough zombies that we can deal with them easily enough. Making for the truck, the wizard cranks the starting handle as the rest of us pile in.

The engine doesn't take. Angus thumps the dash. The wizard swears. I knife the zombie under the rear axle just to be sure. The Navvie pushes the truck forward, trying to give us a running start. We join him as zombies shuffle toward us. The engine catches and off we go. On the horizon we can see the pillar of steam turning in, in towards Auchmithie bay.

All in all, this probably took about 15 minutes in game time, we were fortunate that (the DM had) the boat slow down and turn into a natural harbour just up the coast (literally five minutes drive from the town).

We follow the road to the steam, it's now a straight pillar that is slowly petering out. Signifying the boat has come to a stop and the boilers are being allowed to run down.

We don't want to just drive up to Donny's front door. So we stop at the small hamlet just round the coast from the large stately home overlooking the bay. The village is deserted again. It's a short walk from the village to Donny so we park the truck on the main (and only) road out of sight of the house which is about 500 yards across windswept fields from the village.

With the engine off, we hear a sound over the wind. Digging. Knowing we'll regret it, we follow it. There are half a dozen alchemists with repeating rifles (Martini Henry's) standing in a line. They clearly aren't digging. They are looking into a pit.

We wait in the cover of a stable (Angus soothingly petting the cart horse) and watch. One of the alchemists kicks a ladder back down into the pit. Slowly the fifty odd villagers ascend the ladder. The alchemists line them up along the side of the pit, facing into it. I murmur "Babi Yar" under my breath, knowing what's coming.

The rest of the party seem to have caught on, so that when I work out the alchemists are too far away for accurate pistol shooting and start moving forwards, the rest of the party follows.

The alchemists have managed to get the first batch of locals kneeling on the edge of the pit. They raise their rifles on the command of their leader. I manage to drop him with the first shot. The wizard sends a steel shaft through the skull of another, and between us, we wipe the party out quickly. We are fortunate in that it's likely the sound of shots were expected.

The locals as we approach don't seem entirely all there. Their eyes are a pale white. Milky. Without pupils. Talking, waving a hand in front of their faces, it does nothing. There's no one home. They don't respond to external stimuli at all until the bard says to one woman
:"Say something... please?"
She says "something"

We establish through some trial and error that they respond to simple commands. Beyond that they might as well be automatons. Some further analysis and very limited interrogation reveals they aren't likely to get better from this. Their soul or essence is gone. We might as well be talking to husks.

We can't just leave them. They will at best starve to death. Angus picks up a fallen rifle.
:"We should finish what they started then..."
Each body that falls into the pit is just an empty husk, or at least that's what we tell ourselves as we put down each and every one.

We look on at the stately home. Night is beginning to fall. There's no lights showing and no smoke from the chimneys but this has to be the place. We prepare ourselves and decide to get a bit closer. We have some revenge to take...

Getting closer to the building, there really does not seem to be anyone home. As it gets darker, the wind gets up combined with the sound of the sea, we're unlikely to hear anything. The moon rises and we have at least enough light to mostly see what we're doing. Peeking in through windows shows nothing but darkness. We decide to do some breaking and entering.

The door to the kitchens offers very little resistance. Angus puts his fist through the window in the door and we are in. No alarms ring, again it's all very peaceful. We head inwards.

The kitchens are silent. There's dust on everything, it seems like no one has used these in years. Oddly there is still perfectly preserved food under the dust. Angus experimentally picks up a ham and takes a bite. Apparently it's delicious.

We can still hear the wind and the sea outside, the only other sound is Angus munching. The party continues creeping through the house.

There's a lot of the usual creepy big house stuff, suits of armour, bookshelves, dust, that sort of thing. This continues as we pass through the kitchen, the dining room (with candles that are incongruously lit), library; in the great hall there's a roaring fire, which would make perfect sense if anyone had disturbed the dust on the floor. We ourselves are leaving little footprints as though walking through snow.

Instinctively we gather around the fire, enjoying the warmth.
:>Where the fuck is everybody?
The place is plainly and clearly deserted, maybe we got the wrong house? Obviously there's not many others around... There's also the matter of where those alchemists came from... They must've come from somewhere... right?

The DM describes the hall carefully, and how we feel.
:>You all have the unmistakeable feeling of being watched, even in this grand room, the feeling of the air changes imperceptibly.
Of course, this encourages us to start investigating, looking in dark corners, peering through keyholes. The Wizard is convinced there must be a secret passage or bookcase. He's tapping on walls and generally being wizardly. Of course, this being Britbongsteros, there aren't any.

It's about this time, the bard decides to look up.
:"Guys..."
I'm testing books, the wizard is tapping at the walls, Angus is eating a ham, and the Navvie is checking behind pictures.
:"Shut up bard!"
:"Guys!"
We follow his pointing finger, oooh... that's probably not good.

There are at least twenty old bodies nailed to the rafters. We think they might be the previous occupants of the house. They also seem to have been drained dry. In the shadows, there's something else up there too...

A little music [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MqEnxFYxbw ACDC - Smash N Grab]

We are definitely not alone
:>Coliunn gun chean (or say hello to my little friend)

It's been up in the rafters this whole time, watching, waiting, and now it drops into the center of the room.

Imagine a headless ogre (more a sunken head set between the shoulders rather than above). Then cover the thing in moss, give it glowing ice blue eyes and some other fun aspects we'll come to. That's what drops down and cracks the flagstones.

The worst part is Coliunn isn't alone either, as he drops, so too do the odd looking bats feeding on the bodies. They're not really bats, they're nondescript in the shadows, but they flap around us, billowing and generating enough force to blow out the fire. The fight is lit by Angus as he sets about torching things, and is really a series of disjointed moments.

The Navvie and Coliunn running at each other, my bullets impacting across Coliunn's chest, the wizard sending flying daggers after whatever those tiny blood sucking bastards are (and they have very sharp teeth indeed!). The bard helps out as only he can ([https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hB3eCv_FOk The Blues Brothers - She Caught the Katy]).

Coliunn isn't just tough, the fucker regenerates too. Even when Angus sets him alight he's still quite capable of punching the Navvie across the room. The wizard does his best to weigh him down, slowly building up lead on his wrists and ankles. It works, but it also adds more force to his blows.

The bard is lucky to avoid being turned into jam as Coliunn turns his attention to me. The bat things are beyond distracting as they swarm us again, biting, clawing, drawing blood. In the darkness Angus plays flame over our enemies back, the Navvie gets up and starts running again. I back away from Coliunn until my shoulders touch rock. Reloading as I go, I aim for those eyes. A lucky critical (blinding one eye) seems to just enrage him but the wizard focuses on one stiletto sized sliver of steel, driving it into the other eye.

He can't see, but he can still hear and he tracks me easily enough. It gives enough time however for the Navvie to strike him from behind, staggering him. Coliunn turns and runs straight from us, into the wall and out into the night. Given the way he knitted back together after being shot, it seems likely we may see him again. The bats follow him through the hole. In the near silence of smouldering furnishings (the room was large and, although furnished, mostly stone; in all fairness the place should have been blazing though), we reload and prepare to go deeper, we can only be in the right place now...

Alone in the darkness, the wind howling in through the hole where Coliunn reverse Kool-aided, we decide illumination is our first task. Fortunately the Navvie carries a small lantern and there are some candles on the walls which we pinch. We proceed further into the house.

The DM has us rolling perception checks, every time we succeed we get the vague sense of being watched. After the fire fight, we can only assume everyone knows we are here.

We search though more and more rooms, ending up at the bottom of the main staircase. The wizard notices that the rug appears disturbed. Lifting the thing we discover a trap door. The wizard detects no magical fields or alarms so we swing it open. There is a roughly hewn passageway leading off into the darkness. We guess this place has some history of smuggling (explaining the small hidden harbour and this). We descend into the darkness.

It's not long before the narrow passageway opens into a cavern. We assume this is a tidal cave, or at least it's sealed to the outside by water at high tide. The sound and spray of the sea fills the cave. There is still no one about. It's just then that a shape breaks the water.

A large ray, graceful, lazy, unusually it takes to the air, doing a circuit of the cavern before being snatched out of the air by what can only be described as an enormous Moray eel. If we didn't know better, someone has been making monsters...

We follow the cavern towards its mouth. We find the steam pinnace (deserted) and cross to the other side of the water via a rope bridge. The water is seething with foam and only black. Given the precision with which the supernaturally fuck huge eel snatched the ray, we are not keen on the this arrangement but nevertheless we cross.

The caverns extend in front of us quite some distance. From what we can see there are three cave mouths to choose from. We dither like the adventurers we are. Looking and listening, but over the sound of the storm and raging sea, there's nothing to be discerned. Angus notices an enormous lobster claw break the water and come hammering down on something. We decide it's time to pick a direction and go for it.

We head up the middle.

The walls of the cave seem wet to the touch. There's seaweed growing on them. We file this information away for later. If we are down here long we may not be coming back this way.

Angus is in front. The DM asks us
:"Do any of you guys have a lantern?"
:"Err... no..."
Angus does have the pilot light on his flamethrower.

For the sake of mood, the DM turns out the light in the kitchen and lights a candle, placing it on the table. The party (and the players) do their best with what little light they have.

There's no noise we can hear from up ahead, and the cavern/tunnel is starting to get narrower, the Navvie has already turned sideways to fit. All we can hear is the sound of the sea crashing behind us, the flickering light of Angus ahead, and inky darkness behind. In the semi darkness of the kitchen, we huddle in closer to the candle flame. The DM is doing something with his hands. Fiddling with something.

He continues to describe the claustrophobic isolation of the tunnel, the way every time we breath out, the walls close in a little further, until when we breath in, a million tons of black igneous rock ensure that breath is shallower than the last.

We push on. Squeezing, straining. A shape is moving in the darkness. It comes up behind the Wizard's Player and says right in his ear.
:"'Allo."
(It's Cruella the player sneaking up behind him)

The Wizard, never the most calm of people at the best of times, jumps out of his skin just about. Cruella (the not-yet) player finds this hilarious and returns to playing with her phone. The poor wizard looks about ready to have a heart attack. The PCs respond in much the same way. Struggling to twist and turn to face the voice. The wizard generally screaming.

Unfortunately Angus can't turn around to set fire to the thing. Nor can any of us do anything to attack it.

It grabs the wizard and... hugs him?

The creature then lets him go. It waves at us and beckons for us to follow it into an adjoining tunnel. Reasoning we have nothing to lose (and it could have just eaten the wizard) we follow (after trying to shout over the noise, we give up and resort to hand signals).

We follow the Shellycoat upward and along into a wider, larger cavern. It's quieter up here.

:>Wut is a shellycoat?
:Some lore checks later (again like most of britbongsteros you can wiki it) reveal it to be a mischievous but mostly harmless water spirit. Apparently.

Anyway, the Shellycoat beckons us forward. The party takes a moment to assemble and generally stretch themselves back into place.

It seems we are in the Shellycoats lair, judging at least by the crude bedding and pile of empty crab shells. It certainly smells like it is anyway. What the Shellycoat wants to show us is down below. There's a hole in the center of the floor and it looks out into another cavern. There's light down there along with a party of alchemists.

They seem to be fishing. Quite innocently. Off to one side, is a large cauldron bubbling quite happily. One of the alchemists hauls up a crab pot and looks very pleased to have caught a large fairly grumpy looking Paromola cuvieri. After a small fight it goes into the stewpot. All very exciting. The alchemists gather round looking pleased with themselves. A few seconds later they duck backwards as a much larger crab claw reaches out of the pot. It grabs one of them, pulling him in. The others, using sticks, over turn the cauldron toward the water, and the still growing crab slinks into the sea.

It seems we know where the giant stuff is coming from. No Donny though...

Angus helpfully considers the cosmic imperatives of the situation. Man playing God, making sea creatures into God sized problems. With the weight of the universe upon him, his intellect squares it's shoulders like atlas and says:
:"I wonder what'll happen if I stick my dick in it?"

Fortunately the shellycoat appears incapable of speech, however it seems to understand us fine enough. Some pantomime and "me Navvie you fish thing?" establishes that the shellycoat definitely wants rid of the alchemists, and also the alchemists have a lot to do with some chick and some guy called Donny...

Now people making giant monsters for whatever purpose are decidedly not good as far as we are concerned. They also seem to have something to do with Donny. Meaning...

Meaning... Err...

Oh, yes, kill them all.

Further discussion with Shelly enlightens us that there are plenty more alchemists (and others) beyond the gap in the wall behind those who are fishing. It seems then that we want to approach this quietly...

Fortunately, the shellycoat seems to know a way down from here. Back out into the passage we first came through. It wants to come with us. The party discuss. Essentially do we trust this thing? The answer is pretty much God no. Do we want to have it following us? Again probably not. What do we do with it? As far as we can tell it's mischievous yes, but not actually malicious.

We aren't going to kill it. We can't just tie it up, nor can we knee cap it. Some whispering later we decide the best thing to do is....

I and the wizard pantomime it coming along at a distance. It shows us the direction we should be heading with a webbed hand. Seems straightforward enough. Meanwhile the Navvie gets behind it. It enthusiastically supports the coming along idea.

The Navvie thumps it. The intention being to knock it out. His fist, propelled by the one he rolls, hits it just fine at the base of the skull. It falls awkwardly with a sickening egg shell crunch on the floor of the cavern.
:"Oops."
:DM: "I'm sorry, but head trauma is no joke..."
:"So..."
:"Err..."
:"Shit."

We argue a bit over whose dumb idea that was, then discuss what to do. We all feel more than a bit guilty here. Sheepishly we lay it to rest or try to. When the bard and I go to pick it up, one bleary now red eye opens. There is an enormous dent in one side of its skull, and the horrific incongruity of one side of its head being almost flat from the temple to rear of the skull is a glaring sign of our idiocy.

It shivers and spasms, mewling, trembling, evacuating waste and rocking back and forth. There's just enough critter left to know those people it is looking at did this to it. The poor thing whimpers and looks like it wants to scream at the great unfairness of it all.

The best thing we can do is put it out of its misery. The DM senses an opportunity.

It takes an inordinately long time to kill it. Any pretense at gentle combined with the strange biology of the thing, seems to only make it worse. Eventually, and with my short sword sticking out of its sternum, it collapses. Dead.
:"Oh God oh God oh God we are bastards..."

As always, the DM is a cunt. Though it also made a throwaway character into something that even now causes feels.

For anyone wondering, the one person audience was laughing so hard at us she spilt her wine.

We decide after that somewhat embarrassing fuck up to follow the route suggested. It's a bit more spacious than the last time, the descent is uneventful. The group of alchemists are sat with their backs to us. The sound of the surf is more than enough to ensure our inept approach remains stealthy enough to get behind them. We dispatch the fishing party almost before they realize we are there. It might just be what happened previously, but we feel a bit guilty as we ditch the bodies in the waters. They take a moment to sink and are instead swept into the maw of a salmon the size of a bus.

We ponder why they are making these enormous sea critters. It seems like they're just making them to be difficult, to make the waters of the east coast as dangerous as possible. Even if we don't find Donny it seems we are doing the right thing. We sneak up the tunnel.

:The alchemists of Britbongsteros: who are they? Dutch traders, or at least that's what they starred out as. The Dutch used to trade prolifically with the east coast of Scotland. It's one of the reasons Scots law is different to English law (continental influence) and also why Scotland had five universities before 1900 and the English only had two.
:The alchemists were traders then magic happened. Turns out alchemy actually (in a limited fashion) worked as did science. Their motto when it comes to science is like that of Aperture, "because we can" or "why the fuck not'?
:They were the source of much of the magical tech and weirdness in the early setting. As England and Scotland unified in 1707, more trade with the English occurred. Their plan with the giant sea monsters is twofold. One, the necromancers are paying them to do it (in full soul cubes) and two, if the north sea is full of giant critters and the only vessels that can sail on it are alchemist approved, then...
:1. Limit all trade to alchemists only
:2. ????
:3. MASSIVE PROFITS

:Why Donny?
:1. Because they can
:2. Think of him as a very lazy and badly trained attack dog, but if you point him at something, and don't mind collateral damage, he is a deniable and highly destructive asset.

:Why was Donny nailed to the floor?
:He fucked them off somehow and gave him what was effectively a magical time out.

There is a natural waterfall in here, freshwater falling from a river or stream above and into the tidal pool. The alchemists (we assume) have got a waterwheel set up and are using it to provide various gubbins.

Lounging on a deck chair is Donny, draped over him is Mrs Donny. He waves.

What he does not do is raise the alarm. The alchemists remain oblivious to us as they seem to be making more of whatever was in that cauldron. From where the waterfall is coming we can see daylight. It seems we have been down here longer than we thought. We formulate a plan of attack.

As we mutter. Donny very ostentatiously relaxes while Mrs Donny makes a show of (in her rather small outfit) making him a drink (think Joker & a very pneumatic Harley).

We decide that clearly Donny wants to watch the fun. The difficulty is what happens (if as opposed to) when we win. Will he just pull another disappearing act? We can't have that. We also don't think splitting up is a good idea. By the time we'll have fought our way to Donny he'll have fucked off. We need something to keep him here. We have an idea....

The plan? We do absolutely fuck all.

Donny drinks his drink. He makes a "go on get stuck in" motion with his hand. The Navvie eats a sandwich. Angus is writing in his little diary, the bard cleans his finger nails. The wizard trims his 'tache and I build a little tower of shotgun shells (pinched a pump action shotgun from the alchemists during our visit to the hospital).

We can see Donny is getting a bit more incensed. The Navvie and I switch to playing rock paper scissors. Angus goes on a mining expedition in his own left nostril. Eating the results. It's about a minute after that that Mrs Donny appears.

Angus has found something chewy. He is treating it much as anon might a toffee.

Mrs. Donny gives a very annoyed stage whisper.
:"Hurry up you lot. He wants to see some violence. (Cruella has been roped in to do the girly voices again) Don't make me do it myself..."
We ignore her further. She is standing right in front of Angus now. He has found a deposit that may require dynamiting but is still attempting manual removal.
:"Come on you useless lazy bastards..."
This time. We don't club her over the head (lesson learnt) but we do grab her and let the wizard bind her with wizardry chains of cold iron. With her nicely hogtied and gagged
:>muh magical...
no fuck off. We have a hold (we think) over Donny.

It's about this time that Coliunn Gunn Chean (our regenerating headless ogre friend from earlier) pops into the cavern via the waterfall.

We decide if we engage in combat and Donny is still missing his Missus as it were, he'll just grab her while we are distracted. I get the job of carrying her as the Navvie needs both hands for his hammer and in can still use a revolver with one. Also I had a feeling that the DM would make someone actually pick up and carry Cruella for a bit and I'd rather it was me. He attempted to enforce this, instead he got a very lady like "get fucked" (I always thought the two had a good rapport which explains my mentioning it I hope).

The alchemists still are not paying any attention to us. Coliunn however seems aware something is up. He sniffs the air. Donny, we notice, is still looking at us, he finishes his whiskey, tosses the glass over his shoulder and stands up.
:>fightan time
As Donny descends from the platform/veranda, we decide that stealth is at an end. The bard is first to act. Piping [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Nt8dJ6rMZI The Police - Walking on the Moon], interestingly, almost immediately, the waters of the pool within the cavern begin to boil. When I say boil, I mean thrash and churn with angry giant sea life.

Coliunn begins to lope towards us and the alchemists go for their weapons. Fortunately Coliunn is distracted as the enormous crab from earlier lumbers ashore. The two engaging each other in delightful violence.

With Coliunn distracted we engage the alchemists as best we can. The issue being Donny, we don't really know what his capabilities are. Angus however, as always, remains extremely useful in these situations as he torches alchemists and their equipment. Donny reaches behind a crate and comes up with an extremely threatening looking cricket bat.

The combat rages throughout the cavern, the alchemists doing their best to support Coliunn and engage us at the same time. Donny we assume is going to be in someway magical or... something... so we focus our attention as best we can on him, leaving Angus to do what he does best (BURN EVERYTHING).

The Wizard chucks some nice sharp metal implements at him. He easily bats these aside. The Navvie builds his momentum up for a charge. The bard as usual is the bard, and I plink shots at him and try to control the squirming and generally distracting Mrs Donny. (also 'dat ass)

Have some ancient metal: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pliwf__k4d0 Heavy Load - Metal Conquest Full Album]

We get in closer. Donny seems to be trying his best to work his way to me and his Mrs (Turns out demons do like some things). I make the decision to put her down to get both hands free to engage him. He's fast, but not fast enough to dodge buckshot. By the time the Navvie has gotten into close combat, and the two duel, he tries to keep the Navvie between he and I, and I won't leave his Mrs. unattended (she'll get free or generally be a nuisance).

As I pause to reload, it seems like Coliunn and crab are evenly matched. Angus is, as usual, merrily burning stuff and seems quite happy. I put Mrs Donny down in front of me, I can keep an eye on her while concentrating on the combat. The Alchemists have got it together enough to start firing on us properly. I end up taking cover next to Mrs. Donny as bullets zing overhead. The wizard gets lucky and sticks a harpoon into Donny's leg.

The Navvie and Donny manage some dialogue while trying to kill one another. The Wizard is peripherally on the edge of the combat (flinging things at Donny and also trying to divert any bullets that might hit the Navvie off course).
:"Why are you boys doing this?"
:"You blew up the boat!"
:"So? What did they owe you? What was that about? They shanghaied you and now you're all free. I did you fuckers a favour!"
:"You tricked us!"
:"Meaning you didn't get blown up!"
:"You... you're up to something! Giant sea-creatures, you're disrupting shipping, working with the necromancers you're some sort of bastard!"
:"Bastard I am. I'm also on your side."
:"What is that about?"
:"I was nailed to a floor when you found me wasn't I?"
:"Yes..."
:"Then how did you think I felt about that?"
Now feelings are something the Navvie is not a great expert on. Generally feelings are something that happen to other people (usually "Ow" or other variations on pain) or the sensation that occurs when you bring a large hammer down on someone's head. Suffice to say, he's not much of an expert on the concept.
:"I don't really care, you're still involved in this somehow."
He swings his hammer again.
:"Do you think I'm involved by choice? Do you think she is?"
:"Why should we care?"
:"You shouldn't care, but you did free me."
I should add this dialogue is going on while there's still fighting, but most of the alchemists are dead by this point. Coliunn and the crab wrestled each other into the water so for the time being its fairly quiet.
:We respond, "We didn't free you. We freed the ghost, you were an accident."
:"The alchemists have my essence and hers stored up ahead. We can't get it ourselves but you could. You could free us. We have some autonomy, but not enough to avoid their orders and directions."
:"So you didn't want to blow up the ship then?"
:"Oh no, that was just for kicks. You try being nailed to a floor for six months, but it did get you lot here didn't it?"
:"More to the point, why can't you free yourselves?"
:"Warding."
:"Why should we trust you and what is in it for us?"
:"You'll need my help to defeat what was Baz, and trust me? After all we've been through? You should know better than that."
We mull this over. We don't like him. We don't like his wife, and we don't trust whatever he is. On the other hand... why the fuck not? We have the alchemists to kill anyway now that we have discovered what they're up to.
:>How smart are we?
:>Pretty fucking dumb is the answer of course.

We show good faith by not attacking Donny further. We also ensure his good faith by continuing to carry his wife about with us as he leads us to the entrance to the rest of the complex/cave/dungeon.

We also get a demonstration of exactly what Donny is capable of (he's in front of us) as Coliunn, victorious against the crustacean, hurls himself onto land. Donny smacks him upside the (what would be head but actually sort of in the middle of the chest) with his cricket bat, kicks him in the balls for good measure, and watches Coliunn fall back into the waters.

The rest of the alchemists definitely know we are coming, so we try to be cautious. Leaving Donny and his still tied up wife at the very clearly magical barrier (all the symbols and glowy shit are a dead giveaway) we proceed.

Shortly after we come to a right angle in the rather well hewn and orderly corridor. The obvious place if they have set an ambush to do so. Placing the bards hat on the end of a stick and leaning it round the corner. Nothing happens. Cautiously the bard sticks his head round the corner. He ducks back quickly from the fusillade of rapid rifle fire.

As the shooting pauses
:"Ha you did not think we would fall for that!"

We crouch up against the wall. As Angus prepares to stick the nozzle of his flamethrower round and immolate them, some large metal egg shaped things land near us. The wizard only just manages to get them to roll back round the corner as the grenades go off. Entirely deafening in this combined space.

Angus tries again. This time getting off a long burst of hellfire up the corridor. We can hear sizzling. No screaming or anything else though. Cautiously the bard looks again.
:"Nope guys, that did nothing, they're still behind that big armoured barricade."
:"Fuck's sake bard."
The complaining ends as more grenades land. This time the wizard is quick enough to punt them at the base of the fortification (think a sort of mobile pillbox you can drag into place across the tunnel exit). The detonation is followed by a large clang. Angus decides to blind fire up the corridor again, this time there's plenty of horrific screaming as men burn to death (Flamethrowers man, not even once).

Cautiously again, we proceed up the corridor. Now we get out into the thing, it's a straight 15 meter coverless murder tunnel. At the end of it are still burning bodies and the remains of the barricade. We can't see much beyond that. We proceed.

Reaching the barricade we realize there is another right angle. We are getting used to the idea of corners of death, so Angus blindfires up it. Reporting he has a quarter of a tank left of fuel then he's down to what's beneath his kilt and bad language.

Peeking around the corner, there doesn't seem to be anyone still living up there. The iron grates that fall in front and behind us indicate we may have fucked up. The cloud of green scary looking gas doubly confirms it as it hisses from the grenades lobbed from murder holes in the ceiling.

Angus is quick to act. He asks the wizard to take his trousers off.

The DM seems to be the most confused. The wizard refuses. Angus rips a strip from his own kilt and says
:"Quick, piss on that."
The rest of us, barring the bard and the DM, caught on, doing as advised.

It takes some explaining to the DM what is going on and why his "awesum knockout trap" sucks. He takes the new information on the chin and as the bard falls unconscious we each get to roll to see if we stay standing. The DM seems impressed with our ingenuity and we remain standing. The wizard weakens the iron bars in front just like we did his carefully laid plan.

For any anons who don't know what Angus was on about, [http://entertainment.omgfacts.com/lists/5284/During-World-War-I-homemade-gas-masks-were-made-by-peeing-on-a-cloth-ab657-2 during World War I homemade gas masks were made by peeing on a cloth]. I should say the original (DM's) plan was that we all pass out and get captured.

What we are in; feels like a warehouse, it does indeed look like a warehouse, it is in fact a warehouse along with some living quarters for the sixty odd (total) alchemists that were down here. As far as we can tell, we have killed about sixty odd between us. The place seems quite quiet now that we have worked our way through it.

We cautiously look about. Thinking there must be all kinds of fun stuff in these crates. Thing is, big warehouses have lots and lots of stuff in them. The nearest and most interesting looking crates seem to mostly have spoons in them, which is less exciting. We are struck by the idea that if whatever we are looking for is in here, it's going to take quite a while to find...

We think we've killed off all the alchemists, so we can't just interrogate one. We also don't really feel like spending the next month looking through boxes.

Hmm...

A manifest or other ledger would be the obvious thing. Sadly, we can't see one. We apply logic, if the big boxes are full of spoons or candlestick holders or egg cups, then they must keep the good stuff somewhere else, off to one side or something...

True to form, there is a small innocuous looking wooden door. We expect this to be a privy, but we kick it in anyway. We are surprised to discover exactly what we're looking for. Sort of...

We break into the small, quiet, peaceful little room, it feels a lot like a library. Initial searches reveal that the walls are covered in strange books, interesting looking gew-gaws, and occult knick-knacks. Seems like this is more the sort of thing we are after. There is also an armchair by the fire, the back of it is turned toward us, but there's a pair of legs sticking out of it.

An old, but still extremely commanding voice, the kind of voice an extremely polite mountain would have, asks us
:"WHERE IS MY FUCKING LUNCH."
We peek round the chair. Seated therein is what can only be described as Stephen Fry. It also seems he's blind, very old, and more than slightly deaf.

Angus usually has a sandwich about his person, and the Navvie can be relied upon for a beer and a pork pie. We present these offerings.
:"AH, PORK PIE, I THOUGHT IT WAS TUESDAY."
We attempt communication, not really being sure what an alchemist stereotypically sounds like, we opt for simply shouting.
:"HELLO."
:"WHAT?"
:"WE SAID HELLO."
:"WHAT?"
:"WE SAID, HELLO THERE."
:"WHAAAT?"
:"OH THIS IS... I mean this is hopeless guys..."
:"WHY IS IT HOPELESS?"
:"CAN YOU HEAR US?"
:"WHAT?"
This goes on for quite some time.

We can deal with large angry creatures, skeletons, zombies, gods, and other weirdness. We are having an awful lot of trouble here as we don't really know what we're looking for, and the guy who can tell us is deaf as a post.
:"WHAT?"

Ok, so he's blind, therefore drawing a picture isn't going to work. Shouting seems a problem, but we are getting somewhere... slooooowly. As the Navvie and I continue shouting (WHAT?) the rest of the party investigate the room. Angus cheekily pinches his sandwich back.

They don't find anything immediately offensive or useful. Though the wizard is quite taken with a desk ornament (one of those Newton's Cradle things which has little heads that make different expressions as it swings). The bard is struck by the extremely nice set of bagpipes on the wall and shuffles a bit closer to them. Clearly planing on pinching them.

It also occurs to us, what the fuck are we going to do with this invalid, we can't just leave him here... we also, as a party of murder-hobos, aren't taking him with us. We sure as hell can't leave him to starve to death either...

If this situation seems familiar, well, we certainly recalled what happened with the Shellycoat up above. As the old man eats his pork pie, we cluster behind the armchair.

Essentially it's a case of
:"Dude, what're we gonna do?"
:"Kill him?"
:"We can't just..."
:"We could take him along with us?"
:"Into whatever fight we get involved in next? Out on the road?"
:"Ok... so if we do this who's gonna do it..."
:"I will.
:"NO BARD."

After more rummaging the wizard comes across two books. They're paired so it seems. If you open one, the other opens and turns to the same page. He finds this fascinating. Experimentally he draws a dot on the page of one and the same dot appears in the other. The books are full of a script even he can't read. The pictures however are entirely lurid and not for dinner table conversation.
:"PUT THOSE FUCKING DOWN."
Ah ha.

More shouting establishes these are just what we are after. We consider, as these give us some leverage over Donny, could we get him to take care of the old chap? Wait a minute who is this old bastard anyway? Harmless old savant? The Britbongsteros version of an old Nazi war criminal? We have no idea.

We return with the books to Donny. The wizard makes a show of releasing his wife, who doesn't seem particularly troubled by her ordeal ("I'm used to a little bondage") Donny seems awfully keen to get those books back. We hang on to them for now.
:"If we give these to you, you'll help us with Baz and take care of the old man?"
:"Yes. You'll need to scuff out the wards as well, but sure."
Dutifully we do.

A few seconds later, Donny returns with a spine that is dripping blood. Playfully he lashes it at his partner who giggles as blood spatters the bard.
:"Taken care of as ordered boys. Books please. Now. Might I remind you, you're in here alone with me now. Unless you can write very rapidly in several dead languages, there's nothing to stop me taking them off you... but I like to play by the rules. Books please."
I'm not sure if I'm doing Donny justice here, he's as cheerful as he is... not evil in the traditional sense just... totally and utterly sans morals, and yet still quite likeable

Some OOC discussion occurs. Is this really who we are? Doing deals with demonic entities? Are we going to try to be a force for good or a lighter shade of grey? We think we are going to need him though. We hand over the books.

We really do not like where this is taking us, but we have made our beds and we are going to lie in them.
:"So how exactly are you going to help?"
:"When the time is right, I'll be there. Until then, I have some catching up to do..."
As he playfully spanks his wife, he half turns and the pair entirely vanish.

The party is alone now, surrounded by bodies, with an accidental nest of evil wiped out by accident. We do some soul searching.

We set about trying to leave this place as we take stock of our thoughts.
*Baz still needs to be killed.
*We will have to do something about Donny eventually.
*We sort of did good today... kind of?
*Jesus this country is a mess.
*We are going to need help to think of a plan of action re Baz
*Technically we are agents of the crown, meaning we can call on help. We know where Baz is for the time being, and we think it might be best to seek assistance. To the north we have the isolationist Aberdeen, who even if we have a wizard from there with us, likely will not care. We can try to get south. Taking the sea route is going to be hard as there are a whole lot of these critters in the water, and we don't know how safe the tugboat would be without alchemists aboard to keep the wards up.

A group of royal navy warships would be fine enough for us sailing south, but a better (or at least more realistic option) takes us through giant territory. The giants of Stirling in fact, and then on to the North of England and possibly dwarf-Yorkshire.

===The Stone of Scone===
[[Image:Britbongsteros_map_3_resized.jpg|thumb|150px]]The party mull our options over. Somehow we need to get south of the Antonine wall.

:>Take the tugboat?
Slow, dunno if it won't get eaten by giant lobsters.
:>Try to find a Royal Navy Squadron?
How?
:>Aberdeen?
Unlikely to actually want to help.
:>Southwards by land means either the long trip up through the highlands and down the west coast to Glasgow, or the direct route through Stirling and the giants.

Giants?

Giants.

So, with that settled, we pool our knowledge about the area. Essentially, giants. That's about all we know really. None of us have visited the area in peace time, and have no idea really what it'd be like now, all we really knew was that it was *bad*.

:>What were the giants like?
:Actually pretty smart, as smart as a gifted, well educated human. They were old. Very old. They had slept until the world re-awakened, slumbering under the hills, waiting for the earth to warm again with volcanic fire (Scotland was once actually extremely geologically active). When they did wake up in 1497 as did everything else, they quickly adjusted.

We also knew they were extremely fond of the Stone of Scone, it being near Perth in Scone Palace (we are not far from Perth).

We sort of look at each other at for a minute. As we know the bard's player isn't very chatty sometimes, so he'd just play music and give us all skill related buffs during these moments. I distinctly remember this song. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbjyuDYtAtk Ram Jam - Black Betty (Official Video)]

Somehow, somewhere in this discussion someone (Angus) suggested we steal the Stone of Scone.

But why?
:>The coronation stone of all the kings of Scotland? You bet that's gonna be magical, you bet that's gonna be useful to those bony necromantic bastards, and most of all, why not?
Otherwise known as... THE STONE OF DESTINY.
:>DM: "Muh adventure.... muh backstory... muh... oh fuck it this sounds like fun."

We still have the jalopy right?

Yup.

It's 40 miles to Perth. We have a (nearly) full tank of (sort of not really) gas, we have a kilo of dwarven pipe tobacco, a pile of weapons, and some of us are wearing kilts.

:>Fucking hit it. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oysMt8iL9UE Peter Gunn Theme]

We avoid the coast road, heading up through Forfar, down through Coupar Angus and bomb it straight through to Scone Palace. We don't know what we expect to find there, but with Angus driving, we also don't entirely expect to live.

Now as anon may have noticed, you can usually tell how far into an evening we had gotten by the quality of ideas generated. This one was very close to what would be the end of a session, but it seemed like such a good idea we continued onwards anyway.

Arriving at Scone, we can see flames in the distance. We can hear the sounds of battle. The sun is just starting to rise as we arrive. The battle must've been going on at least all night, and likely throughout the previous day as the last of the living giants defend their last redoubt (Scone Palace) against the undead hordes come to take the Stone of Scone.

The mood in Scone is sombre, death songs are sung, the living know this is the last sunrise they will see, before the day is out, they will join the marching hordes of undeath. The shieldwall has not broken, it will not break until until the last spear, until the last breath. Tears mix with the rain as a people prepare to die.

:Lo, there do I see my father. 'Lo, there do I see...
:dumdumdumdumadum
:My mother, and my sisters, and my brothers.
:dananananananananan
:Lo, there do I see...
:dumdumdumdumadum
:The line of my people...
:danananananananan
:Back to the beginning.
:dumdumdumdumadum
:Lo, they do call to me.
:danananananananan
:They bid me take my place among them.
:dumdumdumdumadum
:Where the brave... SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TB_QmSWVY7o AC DC - For Those About To Rock (Official)]

The jalopy ramps the gates and comes to a rest by battering its suspension into the flagstones outside of Scone Palace
:"We're here!"
So, we (mostly due to the DM finding the idea funny) have made it into the last battle of the giants. Their ragnarok as it were as they sacrifice in blood for the only thing they have left. Honour.
:>How did you get through the opposing army of undead?
Undead giants are slow and were not expecting five lunatics in a truck.

The giants themselves do not react well to our sudden appearance as a detachment surround us. We have just appeared like a wet fart in their heroic epic. Even once they establish we are alive they seem less than pleased.

We are brought before their leader, Great McDonald (Big Mac), who as one might expect is enormous. Big Mac is less than enamoured with us, he's suffering from a couple dozen wounds and has arrows sticking out of one side of him. Big Mac is past his prime, but he has aged like weathered oak. You get the feeling from him he wins headbutting contests with cannonballs, and also that deep down, he is happy to die like this, one final battle than to slowly fade.

His great axe lies limply across his knees. He bids his retainers leave him except one very very old giant indeed.
:"So little ones, have you come to die with us?"
:"Not exactly..."
:"We sort of plan on living."
:"There's not much chance of that now is there..."
:"We have an offer for you."
:"What can you offer me when I know the sun will set on my risen corpse?"
:"We have a bard?"
:"Is that what that thing is? It would be a fine thing to have our tale sung."
:"We also, can offer to take the stone to safety."
The tiredness in the Big Macs eyes burns out. The loose muscles of his shoulders knot like glaciers carving valleys.
:"Will you now..."
:"We got in here. We can get it out, and we can make your deaths mean something. We can't save you, but we can save the stone."
:"And how, little ones, will you do that?"
:"We got in here, we can get out..."
:"If you take the stone, my warriors will know it is gone, they know they will not die to protect it, but to protect the space where it once sat. More to the point, why should I trust you?"
:"Well we are alive, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Additionally we have this..."
We present to him our letters of authority.
:"And finally, are you not Britons? If you are so willing to sacrifice all, why not be willing to sacrifice to aid the nation? This fight is already lost, but the war will continue, and the war can still be won."
Big Mac approves of this.

With Big Macs approval we are allowed into the inner sanctum. The stone of destiny lies before us. It really is a fairly innocuous lump of rock (really) but the giants attach an almost religious significance to it. Big Mac bows low before it. We do the same. There is definitely something in the air and it isn't Angus (we are so used to that as to be immune), the wizard can sense a tension in the air. There is definitely magic here.

Big Mac lifts the stone easily. To him it's about the size of a house brick. It takes the Navvie and I to carry it. We don't really have a plan at this stage beyond drive really really fast, but that has gotten us this far. As soon as we get into the open air, the undead surge against the defenses, they (or their masters) know something is up.

We point the truck at the gates with the stone roped to the flatbed. The wizard is given the task of driving as he doesn't need both hands to do offensive things. Angus rides shotgun.

Big Mac goes in front of us. We can hear the undead battering at the gates over the engine. Two of the giants fling the gates open as Big Mac charges out. In his armour with his axe singing through the air, he is a sight such as this isle will not see again. The proudest of his race. As he rams into the enemy we skirt round him at speed. With the wizard driving we manage to dodge the majority of attacks and respond to other threats with enough violence that we don't have to slow down. Looking back over the tailgate, we can see Big Mac still swinging his axe as the skeletons of his brother giants swarm him. Concerningly, our cargo and departure have definitely been noticed.

So with that sombre and altogether bizarre diversion we commenced the session the following week, moving fast in a general southwesterly direction and straight into undead territory. It is here we get our first glance at exactly what the necromantic apocalypse can do.

There's not a lot that can catch us as we barrel through, but there's also quite a lot of reasons for us to stop. If anon ever played that one scenario in gorkamorka, some of this may seem familiar. (The one where the board moved)

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Kl46UHpSwE Purple Haze Jimi Hendrix]

Scone Palace wasn't actually too bad, there was still greenery, there was still life, things get progressively weirder as we go. The sun fades, the clouds draw in (ok this is still normal for Scotland), the light of the sun shifts to a redder bloody hue (much like a blood-moon). We swerve round the bloated flyblown corpses of animals, not all of them stationary, there is a rather messy incident with a cow.

Onwards we travel. There is a mist rising. While we can see skeletons in the distance the road itself seems quiet beyond the odd wandering corpse. The necromancers must have something planned for us, but as we zip along past Perth and down to Bridge of Earn, we remain unmolested. As we approach the river Earn the mist is thicker, much thicker. We have to slow down now as visibility drops.

Sensing a DM sized ambush incoming, we generally prepare ourselves. We start at shapes looming in the mist. An overturned cart is riddled with bullets and a circular saw. An entirely innocent postbox is set alight. The withered remains of a tree branch cause a full on Navvie-rage/spaz of hammer swinging. In the distance, or maybe nearby, we can hear a howl.

The engine idles as we come to the bridge. It's narrow, uncomfortably so.

In the mist every thing seems insulated, unearthly, ethereal. There's another howl in the distance. There are very definitely shapes out there and they're moving. The headlamps only serve to lighten the mist a little, casting illumination a scant few feet ahead and then it becomes opaque. There's another howl, much, much closer.
:Bard: "Seriously... it's just wolves guys... probably undead, zombie, flame shooting flying wolves... That's not so bad... at least they don't have like tentacles or scorpion stingers or..."
:"SHUT UP BARD. DON'T GIVE HIM IDEAS."
As we crawl to the other end of the bridge. We see our path is blocked. The remains of what looks like several carts have crashed into one another along with at least one motor-vehicle. It seems like a fair pile up. There's a couple of zombies in the wreckage waving pitifully but otherwise harmless.

We are going to have to shift this or turn around. With the Bard and Angus standing watch, the Navvie and I get the job of starting to shift things. It's heavy work, slow work, and in the mist, shapes move.

Angus is watching the edge of the bridge intently as a tentacle, then another, dabbles over the parapet, exploring then sinking back into the waters.

Above us we can hear the beating of wings.

Everything around us has the stench of the undeath, but there's so much of it we can't even begin to identify what is a threat and what is just fucking weird.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfAWReBmxEs Deep Purple-Child in Time]

Little will-o-the wisps spark like fireflies in the mist, blue, green, orange, purple, red. They shoot up from the waters of the river below us, some rising high, others snatched out of the air by something we can't see.

As the Navvie and I wrestle to shove the van out of the way (and indeed put down the crushed remains of the passengers), the tentacles lash over the parapet again as another howl comes, much closer, right behind us. The zombified remains of wolves run across the span of the bridge. Clicking claws on the cobblestones, flanks rent and torn asunder, bellies distended from flesh and decomposition.

Angus turns to respond, the thing under the bridge responds faster, tentacles swinging out over the span of the bridge, snatching at desperate howling wolves. The survivors run past the Navvie and I, clearly fleeing from something. The skeletal remains of what must've been a member of the corvid family flicker down beside us.

The raven coughs.
:>But Aldous, it's a skeleton it doesn't have lungs...
The response to that is the same thing the DM said. It's an animated skeleton that in total contravention of the rules of aerodynamics just flew, and you want to know how it can cough? Nevermore daft players have I encountered.

It coughs again. The Navvie and I keep shifting stuff, the wizard helps from his position behind the wheel. Angus decides to investigate this thing. He gets close to it and pokes it with a gloved finger. It falls apart into its composite bones. Then several things happen at once.
:>What happens?
A tentacle wraps around Angus's ankle. There is a very loud thump from behind us, as of something hauling itself out of the river and landing on the cobblestones. From above, something very large flaps its leathery wings...

As Angus is lifted vertically into the air, screaming for help, a shape resolves out of the mist behind us. A very familiar silhouette. One without a head and some very big sloping shoulders.
:>How the fuck did he get here?
:>Fucking Coliunn.
Then something big lands in front of us and I mean big. Big enough that the force of it coming in to land sends a plume of dust washing over us and staggers the Navvie and I.

The wizard does his best to sever the tentacle, he can't quite get a bead on it in the mist, Angus hangs onto the parapet for dear life. Behind us, Coliunn settles into a loping run towards us. In front of us, something spreads its wings and a long, long tail covered in scraps of scales lashes in the mist.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DohRa9lsx0Q Stuck In The Middle With You - Stealers Wheel]

We have Coliunn behind us, some scary tentacley thing under the bridge. Angus is up in the air still be waved about, and we have no fucking idea what that thing in front of us is.

The Navvie and I fall back to the truck. The Wizard finally manages to a decent saw-blade through a tentacle, which reflexively flings Angus towards Coliunn. Angus manages a very lucky roll and lands just behind Coliunn. Coliunn is very surprised when Angus manages to crawl up his back. The bard does what he does best and digs into Angus's sack of tricks as best he can.

From the mist comes....

Generally the party are assumed to have the knowledge of the Bestiary of Aberdeen.
:>Wut is...
[https://www.abdn.ac.uk/bestiary/translat/66r.hti (Have fun - I love me some old books)]

:Dragons in Britbongsteros:
:We know there are some smart, human-sized to double-decker bus sized dragons on the continent, this isn't one of those. Or wasn't anyway, there are also feral dragons, much as there is homo-sapiens and there are apes.
:This one is of course the Dragon of Linton, or again, was, the bones having been raised by one of the necromancers roaming the country.

Now this situation is not the best of places to be in for what were a week ago, a labourer, a merchant, a scholar, a greengrocer, and a traveling musician. It's a case of kill or cure and, in this crucible of fire, we do our best to stand the flames.

The Wyrm of Linton is your traditional old school dragon, mouth with lots of fangs, and... oh hang on...
:Aberdeen Bestiary:
:The dragon has a crest, a small mouth, and narrow blow-holes through which it breathes and puts forth its tongue. Its strength lies not in its teeth but in its tail, and it kills with a blow rather than a bite. It is free from poison. They say that it does not need poison to kill things, because it kills anything around which it wraps its tail.
:From the dragon not even the elephant, with its huge size, is safe. For lurking on paths along which elephants are accustomed to pass, the dragon knots its tail around their legs and kills them by suffocation
So what we're looking at is a big skeletal snake with wings.

The dragon lumbers towards the party (minus Angus) while tentacles lash randomly over the bridge. The Wizard has found his stride and does his best to slice and dice them as they appear. The Navvie and I have our work cut out for us. The Navvie decides that although he has never killed anything that big, there is always a good time to start. Reasoning that nothing likes solid slugs, I take aim and try to go for the head.

Meanwhile. Angus has got onto Coliunns back (Have you noticed Anon that Angus is exceptionally good at derailing things?) and is driving the poor bastard wild by digging his knife into the rapidly regenerating flesh between his shoulder blades time and time again. Coliunn is wild with fury and can't reach back to Angus. The thing under the bridge is trying its hardest to climb up out of the water. We still haven't seen what it is, and are not likely to want to.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sUXMzkh-jI IT'S A LONG WAY TO THE TOP (IF YOU WANNA ROCK 'N' ROLL) - AC DC]

The dragon sweeps toward the Navvie, coiling about him, but being composed mostly of bones this is mostly just uncomfortable. The Navvie does his best to smash vertebrae to dust, shortening the creature by the yard as I put slugs into its face.

Coliunn lumbers past the rather surprised bard and Wizard, narrowly missing the truck but swinging out perilously over the parapet. Angus gets a good look at what's down there. The eloquence of Angus is more than enough for our purposes.
:"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT IS THAT FUCKING FUCKFUCK!"
Tentacles slither up and around Coliunn. They also snake about Angus, binding him to his steed as Coliunn struggles and roars. The wizard manages to free Angus (and very nearly decapitate him).

Angus makes a run for truck. Getting his hands wrapped about the towbar as the creature ensnares his waist again. The Wizard decides enough is enough and guns the engine. Meanwhile the Bard does his best to saw through the tentacles while Angus hangs on for dear life. The creature is strong enough that the truck is starting to scrape backward even as the Wizard floors it.

The bard gets a good blow in on the tentacle and it separates, some still entwined around Angus. The truck leaps forward, rapidly accelerating towards the Navvie and I. It clips me as the Wizard does his best to slow down, knocking me aside. Angus is still being dragged along behind it. As the truck slows down, he loses his grip. The Bard is able to collect both of us when the Wizard swerves to a halt.

Meanwhile the Navvie and the Wyrm wrestle. The wizard is able to help him out a little, but what helps him most is when the rest of the party are aboard, the wizard rams the thing.

Meanwhile behind us, the... thing has gotten out of the water and slopped down onto the bridge which is trembling and creaking under the weight. Coliunn is still proving to be a most difficult meal for it, but boy does it have a lot of teeth.

Ramming the dragon works out better than expected. Less well for the Navvie however who as the bones shatter around him is pretty badly knocked about. The few vertebrae and head that are left still squirm and snap at us as, with the full party aboard, we decide the best thing to do, is leg it.

Speeding off into the mist and southwards, we can only expect things to get worse. We know the dragon has to have come from somewhere. The other two we can (reasonably) safely assume were unfortunate accidents. Even so, it's more than a bit of a concern. Clearly the stone is more important than we thought...

We drive on.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np0solnL1XY Lynyrd Skynyrd-Free bird]

We divert, we avoid blocked roads, and we wind our way what we think is southwards. We have been traveling for quite some time, and as we pass the same reanimated corpse nailed to a church door for the third time running, we realize we might be a tiny bit lost. We are also getting low on fuel.

A little research in the hamlet we have found ourselves in reveals it to be a small market town, and the market cross reads "Bannockburn".

:Bannockburn:
:It was a famous Scottish victory in the wars of Scottish independence, in 1314, so pre-magic in Britbongsteros.
:Robert the Bruce had Stirling Castle under siege, and Edward II (the son of Edward "Hammer of the Scots" I) commanded a force to break the siege.
:At Bannockburn his army fought Bruce's numerically inferior one (it was around half the size) and lost, over the course of two days (unusual for medieval pitched battles).
:With casualty estimates from 5100 - 15700 it's prime necromancer fodder

At this stage we do know the above as lore and we also know that the Stone of Scone is a deeply magical artifact. We are also extremely aware we do not have a great deal of fuel. The town itself seems deserted, though in the deep rolling thickness of the mist it's hard to tell. What we need is some fuel. There might be a motor vehicle here we can scavenge.
:>Doesn't the flamethrower also work on the same stuff?
It does. We would rather have a working flamethrower to help us when looking for more fuel than run out of fuel further on and not be able to set shit on fire.

Looking at the town, the place feels flat out dead, and like it has been that way for a long time. It's nothing like Arbroath. It's silent, the buildings lean on each other at angles, supporting each other like drunks on a train platform. Looking out over the main street, there is a definite air of pripyat.

There have been issues with necromancery in this area for some time. It all started with cows. Then some hamlets, then by the time the army paid any attention there was already a critical mass of unpleasantness which was reanimating Edinburgh. Bannockburn was one of the first places to go silent. We didn't pass the battlefield on the way in, but in theory we should be safer here than we have been previously.

We decant from the truck and begin exploring. The Wizard has the presence of mind to throw some metal filings over the stone as apparently he will sense if they are disturbed as long as he isn't too far away.

We search by splitting into twos. Banging loudly on the door of each building before entering (because zombies) The town is, as predicted, fairly deserted. We can see plenty of signs that people packed quickly and left quickly. We also can see that, when leaving, if anyone in the town had access to a motor vehicle they would have taken it.

Now although I keep calling it Bannockburn, that isn't the name of the village, the village is actually Whins of Milton but it is near where the battle took place (there is also some issue as to exactly where the battle happened, but anyway). We don't feel that lingering here is a good idea. Especially so near to Stirling castle and whatever weirdness is likely to be in there.

While searching a giant sized house, the Navvie is rather impressed to find a hammer he can't lift (it being a giant sized hammer), he does also find some beer which, as far as he is concerned, resolves our logistical issues. Fuel wise we come up empty handed.

It's about this time we notice a couple of things at once. From the direction of Stirling Castle there is a definite and distinct glow to the sky. Up ahead, as the mist shifts, we are fairly sure we can see the broken down remains of what might just be a truck. Last but not least, at the other end of the road, there is a figure in plate armour watching us.

The figure points at us. It doesn't advance it doesn't do anything. Just points. We notice other armoured figures in the mist. At windows, in doorways, all silent, all faceless, all pointing. In the mist and darkness of the hamlet this feels creepy as fuck, but they do not advance, they don't do anything to threaten us. Everyone feels as though they are being pointed at individually. Moving doesn't make a difference. The figures are all pointing accusingly directly at you.

In the almost oppressive silence the engine of our truck is shockingly loud. We pile in and make for the other end of the road and hopefully fuel. There are more figures as we pass, somehow moving while your eyes are closed or back is turned. We don't know if there are just that many of them that these are new ones or that they are just that fast. Either way it's not good. What they do not do is come closer than about forty feet. Yet.

Stopping at the other vehicle, a quick rap on the fuel tank confirms that not all of the fuel has evaporated. Angus seems to almost relish the task of siphoning as the rest of us stare nervously. What we have not seen any of these figures do is move, but we watch them closely. They're so firmly placed it seems like they might have grown there. As one, they all take a very clear and unified step forward.
:>Fuck.

As Angus methodically siphons fuel into a jerry-can, they complete the step and then stand perfectly stock still again. We look into empty helmets or blank visors and see nothing. Something is very clearly staring back however, or at least that's is how it feels.

They take another perfectly unified step. It starts to rain. Not just a shower either, but a heavy sudden down pour. Big fat drops of rain which hit the cobblestones like they were thrown with the vehemence of a deity at that enact spot.

On the flatbed of the truck. The stone is floating a tiny little bit. A centimeter or so off the surface. Interestingly it's also completely dry. Angus has great difficulty keeping water out of the fuel but manages, meanwhile.

Step.

They are clearly all around us.

Step.

The faceless things are closing in. We decide it's probably time to consider doing something about them. The wizard reports they don't register for him. As far as he is concerned the rusted steel of their armour is non existent. Experimentally he tries flinging a quick saw blade at one. It doesn't pass through it, but it also doesn't impact. It's as though the blade went through the space occupied by the faceless at an earlier point in time when it wasn't there. I decide to try unloading on one. It's similarly pointless. There is however one slight difference as they take another step.

A low whistling moan, just on the edge of audibility.

The Navvie decides enough is enough and prepares to fling the last of our explosives at them. The satchel charge we note is completely ignored as it lands in front of one of the things. Angus (who so far has been ignoring all this) is pulled down by the bard as the detonation rings in the silence. Small pieces of masonry drop around us as our ears ring. Looking back up over the siding of the truck we establish that did fuck all.

We settle for helping Angus as best we can. Finally the noise of fuel slopping from can to tank sounds like the most beautiful of things.

Step.

Gluggluglug

Step.

Angus tosses the empty jerrycan away and as the engine of our truck roars into life, the wizard floors it. The stone has other ideas. It's still floating and decides to liberate itself from the back of the truck. We however keep going. Bracing for impact on one of the figures in the center of the road, we pass straight through it. The stone hovers about chest height. We slow to a halt as the figured advance on it.

Rather than pointing fingers, the outstretched hands are now grasping for the stone. There's an actinic blue flash like a lightning strike as they make contact.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRjUcnuJEaE Saxon - Guardians of The Tomb]

Not too long ago, we were pretty normal people. We sure have seen some shit recently, and this is just about topping it all. Shafts of light ripple from the stone, flickering and trickling over the grasping figures. The stone explodes, blinding us.
:>What the actual fuck did we just do?
The armoured figures are very much still standing.

The earth, rust, grime and filth is gone from their armour. Where once there were faceless empty husks. Now there are grinning skulls.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NbOCF9zYgHc Motorhead - Born to Raise Hell]

:"Who amongst you summoned us? Which of you would seek to lead the Host of Bruce? Which of you is the spider that plucks the web? Who calls us forth in this hour of Scotland's need?"
:"Well Aldous, technically you're in charge mate. This one's all you."
:"Err... I did?"
:"WHO ARE YOU TO SUMMON US?"
:"We are... fight for... um... We fight for the crown!"
:"WHICH? WE HAVE WATCHED, WE HAVE WAITED. WE HUNGER FOR VICTORY. MANY STRANGE THINGS HAVE COME TO OUR LANDS, AND NOW BY GOD AND ALL OF HIS SAINTS, WE WILL PURIFY THEM, BY SWORD AND FIRE. ALL WHO HAVE SEEN OR SUFFERED THE TAINT WILL BE CLEANSED.
:"...all?"
:"THAT IS WHY WE ARE SUMMONED. THERE CAN BE NO OTHER REASON. WE WILL WIPE THE LAND CLEAN FROM THE ANTONINE WALL TO KIRKWALL. WE WILL NOT REST. WE WILL NOT TIRE. WE WILL NOT FALTER."
:"Oh arse. We've accidentally tripped some sort of buried superweapon..."
:"YOU HAVE SUMMONED US WITH THE STONE. WE ARE HERE. WHAT TASK HAVE YOU FOR US? WE WILL KILL UNTIL HELL ITSELF BOILS OVER FOR THE CROSS OF ST. ANDREW."
:"So you'll kill everybody?"
:"YES."
:"Everybody everybody? Us?"
:"YES. YOU LAST. THEN YOU MAY JOIN US IN SLUMBER UNTIL WE ARE NEXT NEEDED TO FEED THE HEATHER WITH BLOOD."
:"Could we... err... put you back in your box?"
:"WHY?"
DM is grinning. The grin of "Mate are you really sure you wish to pursue this line of questioning?"

There is hushed party conference.
:"What the fuck do we do about this?"
Our meditations are interrupted by the unmistakeable "fwunk" noise of a cork being removed from a whisky bottle. (It really does make a particular noise). On the back of the truck sits Donny, pouring himself a nice big drink.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r06ubE_y7yQ ACDC - Whiskey On The Rocks]

:"Well boys. This lot sure look useful."
Donny grins. A very, very big grin. Mirrored by the DM.
:"We really are going to have to do something about him..."
:"I could take them off your hands for you. They'll be pretty handy to me and I'll let you borrow them for help with Baz."
The host aren't paying the damndest bit of attention to Donny, it seems they can't see him.
:"Let me borrow them for a bit, and I'll give them back at a time that's thematically important, then take them off your hands. It's that or you let them loose to wipe out the country of course. I'm pretty sure that's not in your remit now is it lads?"
Ok... this seems like an astonishingly bad idea but what else are we gonna do?
:"Just say the word Aldous, tell them to go with me and follow me. I'll bring them back only slightly used..."
:"We... err..."
(Party huddle)
:"Ok Donny, you can take them for now..."

:>What Donny did with the host of Bruce
:Someone, somewhere, may have wondered what happened to Portugal. We later found out, that something very bad happened to Portugal.

We order the host to follow Donny until he brings them back to us. To follow him wherever he goes. They unsheathe shining silver blades, salute, and follow him. Donny winks.
:"Don't even think about double-crossing me here boys, but when you need them, break this bottle." (He tosses Angus a whisky bottle which Angus drains then sticks in his sack).
Donny and the host march off. Donny twirling his walking stick like a band-leader.
:"I really hate that guy."
:"We all do."
:Wizard: "I have a plan."
The more immediate issue remains: Baz. Then Donny. We head southwards, driving through the night mostly without event, hitting Hadrians wall by sun-up and into the North of England. We find ourselves near Newcastle with the rising sun. We head for Fenham Barracks.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gp5JCrSXkJY Buffalo Springfield - For What It's Worth 1967]

I've talked about Newcastle before. The place is already good and fucked. Very much on a war footing, men, boys, anyone that can hold a rifle has taken the Queene's shilling. The normally cheerful Geordies are very aware they're likely to be meeting death soon. As we pull into Fenham there are rank after rank of conscripts. It seems like the army were already planning to march North.

It might just be the nature of the conflict, but the rifles seem oh so poor compared to what they're going to be facing. Brown-Bess muskets against the necromancers? Sweet Jesus.

We present our letters of authority to the sentries, and are swiftly ushered into the presence of the commander of this bunch. [http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/blackadder/images/b/b7/Third_duel_396x222.jpg Pic related (on the left)] the chap on the right is hovering off to one side.

As we enter HQ, Blackadder sighs loudly.
:"Who or what are you lot?"
:"Oh come on Bladder, they look like fun!"
We explain ourselves.
:George: "Well that's bloody fortunate, we were just going up there! A bit of bish bash bosh and we'll see those bony buggers back to bed!"
We do not have good feels. Well, it'll have to do...
:"Yes we'll be back home before Christmas and don't you worry my boys will show them that proper British spirit!"
We're about to get a whole lot more folk killed aren't we?

The army marches in 24 hours. They march to almost certain death. The party, agreeing that we will tag along with mad prince George and the decidedly shifty Blackadder, are left to our own devices for the first time in a while. With the plot-train refueling, we retire to the pub.

Now this is one of those times in Britbongsteros we decided to do a little method acting (we got plastered in character). Each of us did actually have a backstory of sorts and at this point we swapped stories, went into who we were and what was best in life. Cruella played barmaid (not very well I might add but she did get the job of facilitating discussion). So what follows are a series of IC discussions about who we are, a lot of which anon already knows, but it might be useful to have for background and fun.

The Navvie:
:"I was brought up rough not far from here. There's not much more to life than what my own two hands can get me. Life is nasty, brutish, and short. I killed a man with these hands. I know we've killed plenty since, but when a labourer kills a lord for deciding he wants to stick more than his cock in a woman, well, they don't take kindly to that round these parts. My family think I'm dead, or I hope they do."

The bard:
:"Uuh, I'm a Bard."
:"FOR FUCKS SAKE ROLEPLAY"
:"I like music?"
:"OH COME ON"
:"I come from this little island off the coast of China and..."
:"SHUT UP"
:"I had a haggis?"
:"..."
:"I play music because it was my only outlet after my alcoholic father beat me and lost me in a game of cards to a group of pirates. I was the cabin boy aboard a ship of thieves in the Solway Firth, when one night it foundered because I fell asleep on watch. I swum ashore and promised myself I would never commit another violent act, that music would be my only outlet, just like my dear old dead mother wanted. I'd... I would play for her, I'd bring joy to repay my sins. I'd pipe the sorrow from the world."
:"Holy fuck."

Wizard:
:You all know this already (elaborated on later in the story), but he's out and about to earn his fortune, to bring the dowry back to Aberdeen for his wife to be. He's in love and that's... well that's about it.

Angus:
:Nice and simple.
:"I have a shop. It's all I've ever wanted. A nice little place to call my own, I didn't have much growing up and I grew that business from selling rat pies to drunks to a fine establishment. I don't really know how I got here, and to be honest, if I stop and think I'll break down, but I'm here, and until I get back to my little shop, I'm having the time of my life."

Aldous:
:"I was a merchant, I did well from my family estates, I married, I had a daughter, the very light of my life. She was taken from me by the then King, we never knew what happened to her, I turned to drink, my wife left, my business was ruined and I was in Dundee because it's where I washed up. The estates in Dorf-shire being run by my factor and younger brother."

The next morning, suitably hungover, we toddle back to Fenham. Our spirits are a bit low, we know a whole lot of these troops are going to die soon and it's going to be our fault. We also know that whatever Baz now is, that's kinda... again our bad. The Donny situation is just... My god we are crap at being heroes aren't we?

We don't pay a great deal of attention to the newspaper Blackadder is reading to George while he eats a boiled egg. On the front page is something about "PORTUGAL ATTACKED" but we have enough of our own problems to deal with.
:Donny for reasons unknown, really did not like Portugal and over the course of the next few days, the population of the country were methodically, utterly, and totally slaughtered by the host of Bruce.
:We are bad people. We are very bad people.

There's also a short, angry man chain smoking cigars. The hat and demeanour identify this grumpy dwarf as Isambard Fuck-You-I'll-build-it-where-I-want Brunel. He is here on orders of the current Privy Council, he also seems very interested in our letters of authority and gets the story of what happened up north from us. Isambard is not best pleased to hear Dan Defoe is dead, but he does reveal there is a detachment of the Special Bastard Squadron which will be accompanying us up north. We (as this is all our fault - something he reminds us of again) will be accompanying them and the regiments forming up outside.

The party after a short break, leave with the army. The band plays [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=buEuaN-wKW0 the Blackadder goes forth theme] as we head off. Really the whole thing should feel pretty glorious, rank after rank of red jacketed tommies, but those tommies are not well trained, the definitely do not seem to be volunteers. The artillery train is a mish-mash of different guns and calibers, they've cleaned out the armouries and sent forth every last thing that can be found. The SBS however, are a good deal more impressive, notably by their absence. It takes a little while, but we actually realize that bush over there is them.

Later on the march, we are joined by a detachment of Dwarven heavy infantry, these are definitely more like it. Full-plate and each with a plentiful amount of explosives and fire-arms. Maybe we are not as fucked as we thought.

The march of the army northwards should take about a week, we tag along, learning a bit more about the situation up North as we go and the plan. The plan is actually a fairly simple one: March north up the admittedly poor roads towards Berwick upon tweed and then meet a squadron of naval vessels, travel north on those, decamp at Dundee, and on to Baz.

The issues start almost immediately.

The supply wagons are too wide for the roads, the artillery carriages can't handle the pace or the state of the road and a lot of it becomes irrevocably stuck. The party do our best to help out, be it the brute force of the Navvie, the bard doing his best to inspire, Angus and the Wizard fixing broken axles from seemingly nothing, but even so, it's ten days before we are even near Berwick. The naval squadron that should be waiting, isn't.

The party investigate. We drive up to Berwick and discover the remnants of the Squadron in combat with a quantity of sea monsters (those lovely things the alchemists have been making and a few of the natural ones that have been kicking about). The navy eventually win, but there's no way we'll all fit aboard. The plan is to send for more ships and send an advance company of us, the SBS, the dwarves and some of the troops. Including George and Blackadder. We don't know what Baz is up to, but we do know that the sooner we get to him the better.

The DM keeps mentioning Portugal, with the newspapers reporting that the country is a wasteland now.

The voyage North doesn't take us close to shore (avoiding what is definitely Necromancer territory of the Firth of Forth) and we land in Dundee at night.

It's not long after we land that we get news of what FrankenBaz has been up to. The rest of the Necromancers are concentrating in Edinburgh, they don't seem to be advancing as they were, the blight is tightening, consolidating maybe? (They're building towers)

Baz however has been spotted attacking refugee columns and seems to have taken to unlife rather well. His latest tricks seem to require killing people in the goriest way possible then reanimating them. Corpses which have suffered from (look this up at your peril):
*Blood eagle
*Necklacing
*Water torture (not the Chinese kind)
*The comfy chair
*Plumbs (not what you think)
*The old favourite with the rat
*And what I thought was a rather creative one where you put the person on a breaking-wheel, then reanimate the gangrenous dead flesh of the broken limbs and make it choke them to death.

The logic of all this (as we understand it) has something to do with those Soul-cube things, for Baz, the more agonizing the death, the better.

One further method he has apparently been experimenting with (and also how the living have got news of all this) has been what he has called "The Wild Hunt," which is simply good old fashioned fox hunting, except you have a human being as the fox, and the dogs are replaced with whatever Baz devises. A lucky couple of civilians have escaped to give us the news.

The party have their own little council of war. Thoughts drift firstly to mutiny.
:Angus: "Y'know, we could actually just leg it... We're back where we started. I miss my shop."
:Wizard: "We could but this is our fault, and I for one, clean up my messes."
:Navvie: "Fuck 'em."
:"Is that a yay or nay Navvie?"
:Navvie: "Fuck 'em."
:Bard: "We have a duty, we also have to remember if someone does not try to stop this here, now, who will?"
:(My god Bard... that was almost helpful).
:Me: "I agree with... unusually... the Bard."
Baz is still operating out of the old Roman camp and, as far as we know, the army plan on attacking this. We are fortunate enough to be privy to Prince George's planning session.

There is a crudely drawn map of the camp and its surroundings on the table. George's plan is as follows:
:"We march up to them, kick the doors in, and give them the old one-two."
Blackadder and the SBS commander (some guy called Chris Lee) are horrified (as are we).
:"Yes, so we'll go in about lunchtime, give them plenty of time to be up and about, that sounds about right doesn't it? I don't know, this is my first time doing this."
We eventually convince George that this is not a good idea. Remember he is:
:1. Royal
:2. A Faerie
:3. Technically out ranks everyone for several hundred miles
:4. Can and will have anyone executed for fun.
We insist stealth is the right option, the SBS should lead the advance toward the camp, scouting and making the way for the attack. Then the Dwarves and infantry can do their thing and arrive comfortably from our proposed camp at about 10:00am. George thinks this is a great idea and insists on a night march, as opposed to the saner option of marching, making camp, then marching in daylight. He wants to set off in the evening, and march through the night. We try very hard to persuade him this is a terrible idea.
:"My lord, you and the troops will be tired."
:"No I won't, I'll sleep on the way."
:"My lord, even you can't win the fight all on your own."
:"I suppose not..."
:"The troops will be too tired to fight at their best."
:"I thought peasants slept standing up. That's right isn't it? If not, well I'm sure they'll be plenty keen to set to the enemy and get stuck in! And that is the end of it, I won't hear any more. Who wants a drink?
:"My lord..."
:"I said who wants a drink?"
He bares his wickedly sharp faerie teeth. Ending the discussion.

What all this means essentially is the DM is setting us up to expect a cluster-fuck. The troops don't know what they're facing, we don't know how many enemies we might be facing, and then we do have the Donny-based WMD, but we want to save that and hopefully use the wizards plan (which I'll tell you about later as not to spoil it) to end that issue.

George insists we march the following day about dinner time. We use the night firstly to get some sleep and then we have a further think. The conclusion of this think is, what if George changed his mind... or was made to change it...

We brainstorm over breakfast. The SBS would be more than willing to help. Their leader seems like a good chap, bit old, but seems to know his shit and this is what remains of his elite fighting force, so he'll want to see it well used. George insisted that his favourite "battle carriage" be taken with us on the boat, and if something happened to that, we figure it might just help persuade him to delay (By which I mean we're gonna happen to it). We also know we are dancing with death doing this, so we'll need plausible deniability and a nice big distraction.

N.b. when I say "Battle-Carriage" I don't mean that in a hardcore warhammer way, I really do mean lots of gold leaf, fancy, and generally ideally suited for rolling about London in. It is not the most suitable of vehicles.

Between them the Wizard and the Navvie, if left to their own devices for a few minutes, would be able to wreck it enough to delay departure to a more sensible time. We cannot however just walk up to the thing and smash the wheels off.

We know it's not the most metal of solutions, we also know however we can't just kill him, and convincing him otherwise seems out. It's a simple matter for Angus and I to distract the guard on the carriage. Essentially the DM roleplays the guard, and I tell him the story of the Black and White Spacemarine (knight in this case) which the DM had, until this point, never heard, while the Navvie and Wizard sneak round the other side and shear through the axle. The DM, the better part of half an hour later (the story of the black and white space-marine takes about an hour to tell - longer if you do all the actions) gives up and declares us successful.
:>The black and white...
:It is on google.
:It's essentially the longest shaggy dog story I know.

The end result of all this is that, as the army lines up in marching order, George ascends his carriage and the thing falls to bits. This leads to a fantastic squawk of rage, and everyone else back to relaxing. The wizard and Navvie volunteer to fix the thing and we (much to our pleasure) set off at the time we originally proposed. George is too happy to have his favourite carriage back to care. It's a small victory, but a significant one for us.

The army march and arrive at Glamis Castle in good time. They make camp. The SBS start patrolling the surrounding area. Spirits seem reasonably high. Any anons who have checked the wikipedia page for Glamis may see that there could be a couple issues here...

Despite the depredations of Baz, the small unit of local troops guarding the castle have been left entirely unmolested. Even so they look like they haven't slept in months. Questioning by the party (the SBS having already fucked off into the woods) leads nowhere. They refuse to be drawn. We chalk this up to creepy weirdness and decide to see about a spot of dinner. We pass the open doors of the great hall where George and co are having dinner. There's a very familiar looking bloke playing cards with the Laird, aside from the fact he's wearing a Portugeese Toureiro.

Now we can't just barge in and say "HES THE FUCKING PROBABLY MAYBE DEVIL AND STUFF" also one way or another he's here for some sort of reason. We decide on simply finding food and going from there. Getting down to the kitchens we scare up enough food and beer to be quite happy with the situation.

We get this peculiar "being watched" feeling. That being watched feeling is as noted an extremely familiar one. Naturally it puts everyone on edge. We check the doors and windows (of which in an old castle kitchen there are not many) and deciding there is nothing doing, we continue our meal.

It's not long before (as the Navvie and I break into our fourteenth and fourth beers respectively) we hear gunfire. Gunfire is definitely a sign we should be doing things. We head out into the gardens of Glamis. The encampment is in uproar as disorganized units try to form up. Others fire into the darkness in all directions. Someone has unlimbered the guns and a salvo of grapeshot shreds a row of entirely innocent rhododendrons.

We try to see where the enemy are or what is going on. The troops have no idea and their commanders are nowhere to be seen. We try shouting for a ceasefire or for them to form up on us. Our words are lost in the chaos. We do have a bard however. He hops up on some ammunition crates and plays a ceasefire (which should be on the bugle, but in Britbongsteros it's a few bars of this) [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLYT0NR8ZLc Saxon - Thin Red Line]

As the troops begin to get in some kind of order forming up around us, we are able to piece together what's going on. A returning patrol of the SBS had not been told that the password for the night would change at midnight (which is by the way a rather stupid idea - thanks George-bama) and the ordinary troops didn't actually know the time anyway. The argument that followed involved someone shouting
:"Well we aren't the fucking undead!"
Which was heard elsewhere as
:"Undead!"
Mix stupidity with scared and poorly trained soldiery and this happens.

Morale is now at an all time low (except for Donny who finds the situation hilarious) and we still have the feeling of being watched. Worst of all, we can be under no illusions that Baz does not know we are here.

In the darkness we can see a couple of ice blue points of light that are not stars. We know Coliunn is out there. We do not fancy looking for him We decide to retreat inside and get drunk. Leaving the mess for everyone else to tidy up.

:>Coliunn
Now we do know he was in Donny's house. Thing is, Donny had been away for a bit. Was he waiting for Donny to return? He has been nothing but hostile to Donny when they have interacted. We don't want to let on to Donny that what might be our potential ally is out there.

We also consider further what to do about Donny and his offer, as as soon as we break that empty bottle he is going to use the host of Bruce to do all sorts of nefarious stuff. We do have a plan relating to that but we haven't told the DM properly what it is, nor have I told you all. We have also worked out by this stage what happened to Portugal and why (apparently the wine isn't very nice).

Now with the fun of the evening over, the party take the sensible decision to retire to bed. The morning brings with it the freshness of a new day. George has a hangover and attempts to rouse him before 10:30 prove fruitless. The party become involved about then as Blackadder requests our assistance.

George is still cozily in bed, for all of his murderous and admittedly flat out stupid tendencies, we are rather struck that he has a small teddy bear with a detachable head and large fangs. Blackadder looks moodily out of the window as George moans about his illness. He ushers us into a side room.
:"You want this attack to go well don't you?"
:"Yes..."
:"It'd be better all round then if George didn't lead it, don't you agree?"
:"Yes..."
:"I'm going for a walk. If something unpleasant happened to George while I was away, an accident wherein he removed his own head with a button while getting dressed, I don't think anyone would raise too much fuss..."

With that, Blackadder promptly buggers off. Likely to feed Baldrick. I haven't really talked about Baldrick in detail, but as a reminder, he is a large, angry gorilla. That's about it really. He has a little hat (turnip shaped) and very big knuckle dusters. Blackadder uses him to solve problems (or people) he doesn't like very much.

We are left with a dilemma.
:"Kill 'im?"
:"Kill 'im."
I didn't say it was much of a dilemma.

However we do think we don't want to make it too obvious, and we certainly think it would be waaaaaaaaay too convenient for Blackadder to have us blamed then killed. We settle for a little diplomacy first. We sweep back into Geroge's room.
:"My Lord, wonderous news! Your excellent plan worked! We have won the battle!"
:"I have? I mean I have! Of course I have!"
:"Yes, so no need to worry about doing anything."
:"Wait, wasn't the big fight today?"
:"No, no, yesterday, my Lord."
:"Oh, spiffing. Well done me. Take a few medals on your way out and send me up some lunch would you?"

Blackadder seems a little dissatisfied that George isn't dead, but is pleased enough with his defacto promotion. Only two hours behind schedule, we set off and can expect to confront Baz about mid afternoon. Excellent. Except 80% of the troops are terrible, Baz knows we are coming and Baz is... Well he's Baz.

All things considered, the army is in almost good spirits. Helped along no doubt by the fact George ordered (still thinking he has won the battle) all the troops be given a pint of rum. It may not help their accuracy, but it does mean they are at least going to die happy.

The march to the camp is actually fairly simple and straightforward. We are a bit concerned by the plume of smoke that can be seen from Glamis not long after we leave. It's also interesting to note that Donny has been nowhere to be seen all day.

It's very quiet in the afternoon sun. We have approached the camp from the southeast and the sun is just over the camp. On the brown and ill looking turf serried ranks of redcoated soldiers form a semblance of lines. The artillery train such as it is unlimber.

It's very quiet in the fort. We do note however that someone seems to have fixed the wall (that we wrecked).

Horses shift uneasily in the heat. Fat iridescent blue bottles crawl over flickering eye lids and try to explore nostrils. You could cut the hot, rising tension with a knife and parcel it up into small tasty treats to be sold at a bake sale.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNG_Kn-m73M "Heavy Metal" Theme: Takin' A Ride / Don Felder]

We look along pasty faces of acne ridden teenagers, old men with more years and less teeth than they should, holding battered rifles and rusty bayonets with powder that no one knows will work. Outnumbered in what to them is a strange land. They don't know what lies behind those walls, and yet those men do not falter. They face the very physical reality of death, and they stand. Oblivious to the cosmic terrors of this world. This is bravery. Or all that rum.

The fort remains silent. Brooding. Watching. Blackadder sweeps down his sword and the tension boils over into a smashing crescendo of smoke and flame. This is it.

As the smoke from the cannons fogs the field, we can hear roundshoot smash through wood and into the camp beyond. The party share a moment.
:"Ok lads. Do or die."
We know we could run. We know we owe no one here a damn thing. This is our mess though, and this is our choice.

We pass around a bottle. Smiling at each other. The glassy eyed half mad smile of men who know death is close.
:"We stay, we fight. Maybe after all this we can make a difference. Maybe we could even live or in this sodden blood soaked isle. Have a death that means something."

The cannons ceasefire long enough for the smoke to clear momentarily. There's more smoke than we think there should be. A lot more. We can see the wall is down in several places. We can see movement within.

The sensible thing to do is let the cannons continue firing rather than advance, and without George in command that's what we do. There's definitely something going on in the fort, but the cannons are badly positioned and gunsmoke blows across the lines, thick and obscuring. The volley of javelins takes the men by complete surprise. Unarmoured regulars falling before they even realize they're dead as skeletons loom.

The skeletons continue toward us, getting closer as the survivors try to respond to commands for volley fire. We can see what's about to happen as the regulars get off an ineffectual volley. They need time. Time to regroup, time to form up and time to reload.

The party knows what must be done, as do the armoured dwarves. The bard squeezes his pipes. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXjtvGAGvYA
Manowar - Die for metal (lyrics)]

The dwarves know what must be done, and when the party charge, they follow our example. Gun and axe ready to buy time in blood. It works. The Skeletons advance slows as they close ranks to meet the charge. Roman tactics not quite taking account of flamethrower, shotgun and dwarvish grenade and shot.

After the close range volley, their ranks are in some disarray. Bits of bone, shield and loricae segmenate zip through the air.

The infantry behind us get off another volley, then another, the cannons whip grapeshot into the flanks of the skeletons. Our counter-charge just might carry this.

Our focus shifts from what we can see of the overall battlefield to the enemy before us, the Navvie breaking shields, the wizard dashing iron bars into skeletons behind them. There sure are a lot of skeletons. They pull down dwarves every moment, gladii lashing from behind the shieldwall.

From elsewhere in the closing ranks of skeletons, a larger, horned figure can be seen. Clad now head to foot in armour. Only his antlers and the bone sticking from his chest indicating who he is, he leads a charge past us and the engaged dwarves on toward the rifleman.

Baz.

It takes us some time to fight our way out of our current predicament, leaving the dwarves still engaged. We can see Baz sweeping great clawed hands into the lines of the regulars, stoving in ribcages, ripping off heads, every rise and fall of his arms bringing death after death. The lines of the regulars are already faltering as Blackadder leads his small cavalry unit into a charge against them.

It's time to put and end to this. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLxKpe2c6fU Iron Maiden The trooper lyrics]

We advance fighting our way to Baz. We can see he's already a lot more powerful than the last time we faced him. Baz realizes there's a push towards him. The still screaming body of an infantryman raised up before his face. Slowly peeling him like a grape he turns.

He sights us. The great shoulders lower. A hand drops to the earth as he readies a charge, looking for all the world like the most terrifying center forward you could imagine.

He starts as he recognizes us. A memory of before makes him pause. We don't wait for the emotional struggle of wills within him to take place. We know he's a lot more and a lot less than he was. We all hear the same voice in our heads, it offers different things, but it's definitely Baz. Money, women, women with lots of money, power, pies. The party (with one rather successful role) simultaneously declaim what I think became in some fashion our battle cry.
:"Oi. Fuck you."

He starts to charge and we run to meet him. The tactics are the ones you're all no doubt familiar with by now, the Navvie races for him. The bard generally fucks about being useless, the wizard remains behind the Navvie flinging sharp objects, Angus and I on the flanks, shot and flame washing over the armoured hide of Baz.

We knew we were outmatched. We didn't know how badly.

The Navvie dodges a sweep of the claws, smashing his hammer down onto Baz's shoulder with enough force that his right arm now hangs loose. The left smashes him aside. The wizard is shoulder barged as Baz makes for me. I'm seized and tossed (nobody tosses a dwarf) near where the Navvie landed. Angus however is having none of this. He advances on Baz, a bottle in both hands, one empty the other on its way to being so. Baz aims a savage headbutt at him. It connects, you can hear ribs crack. Angus is knocked to the ground. The Navvie and I are managing to help each other to our feet as Angus smashes the empty bottle on Baz's chest.

The host of Bruce appear, armour shining and swords singing. Donny joins us.
:"Hello lads."
The Host engage Baz, and now it's his turn to be outmatched. Meanwhile the rest of the army are beginning to form up again.

The battle is flux, balanced on the horns of fate. The Host of Bruce however make very short work of Baz, then turn on the skeletons. The cheering of the regulars turns to horror as they turn on them. Donny has asked nicely for, and received some of Angus' half empty bottle of whiskey.
:"Well boys, it's time to relax now, you've done more than enough for me. Freed me, twice, and now summoned a lovely little unit of deathless soldiers for me to conquer every hell I can think of with. Once of course they scour the land clean. I have to give them that. Might as well sit back and watch the apocalypse lads."

The wizard sticks his hands in his pockets.
:"Donny, do you remember exactly what we said to the Host? What you asked us to say to them?"
:"Now now lads, don't try this game with me, you'll not win."
:"You asked us to ask them to follow you didn't we? Follow you until you brought them back? What we did not say, was for them to follow your commands. Just. You."
In the background the regulars break and run as the host gut a dozen men every second. The wizard takes his hand from his pocket. The fragment of the Stone of Destiny sparks in the air. The Host pause. Some in mid strike. Somewhere a regular slides off the blade of one.
:"Come on now... this isn't very funny..."
:"I'm sure they can follow you Donny. The question is, how far, and how fast can you run?"
The wizard can craft metal, the wizard has power over steel. Steel can be bound and forged to the will of its maker. The wizard's plan is not complicated, the shard of the stone, bound by layers of battered steel. Enough to channel the magic of the world, enough that as he punches the shard into Donny's chest, and the barbs on the stone dig in, enough that Donny realizes that finally, we have screwed someone over.

The Host turn as one.
:"Chase. Him. Down."

We look out over the battlefield.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UE7ONvyXxm4 Defender]

Baz is dead. As are hundreds of troopers. Donny may, one day, in a thousand years or tomorrow, get free, but that's a problem for another day, another time, and maybe even another world.

We collapse onto the body strewn field. We did it. Somehow. We're alive. The country is still teetering on the brink of totally fucked, but we are alive.

We discover later that while we were fucking about in Dundee, the undead launched an invasion into the North of England. Necromancers and more alchemsists than ever seen on these shores. Our new destination, Blackadder later decides as we manage some small respite aboard the HMS Dreadnowt (yes that one) is the North. The Alchemists have repeating rifles, and we for one, will need those for the country, England expects, Scotland knows we have already begun to discharge our duty.

===The Harrowing of Harrogate===
As the party do our best to lick our wounds aboard the Dreadnowt, Blackadder fresh from his new (self) promotion lays out our new mission. We are to generally cause as much havoc to the invading undead as we can, but additionally the Alchemists (who are playing both sides and it is in their interests to have the war continue as long as possible) will not sell us the designs of those repeating rifles. We are to acquire a quantity of them by any means necessary.
:"Why us?"
:"Three reasons. One you're still alive, you're still alive when our best problem solvers are all dead, and lastly, you can do your duty to your country, or all be shot."

It's rather hard to argue with the last point and as our little band of ne'er do wells have been forged in combat and tempered by victory, we for once (aside from the fresh bruises, broken ribs, stab wounds, and need of a bath) feel almost keen to pitch in. Maybe we can make a difference.

The voyage back up the east coast (away from the big scary monsters) and down the west is mostly uneventful, sort of. There are reports from ratings of a stowaway. Searches of the vessel and reduction of rum rations do little to prevent these reports, in fact they increase. Nonetheless we steam for Liverpool and the new front in the war against undeath.

When we arrive in Liverpool the news from the front is not good. Although the Undead advance has slowed, it definitely has not stopped. The Dorfs have dug in and dug in hard. They've made a maginot line out of Yorkshire and Lancaster but won't do anything beyond that.

Someone (us) is going to have to try to get them to March north, hopefully in the north we will also encounter some alchemists and be able to get some of those rifles by beating them up.
:>Wut about all the Alchemists you killed before?
Either they died in enemy territory or the stately home we visited was recaptured/reclaimed by the Alchemists.

The worst part is there are detachments of them acting within the country who are helping us. It has been noted that they have stopped carrying rifles and we can't (the country) throw them all in the tower of London quite yet.

We have already talked a little about Dorfs. I'm one, and they have popped up elsewhere, the essential things to note is that they are Yorkshiremen first then Dorfs second (Britons third). For one thing in their view there should be a Dorf on the throne and they still have not forgotten the outcome of the War of the Roses.

If geography were different they'd be quite happy chilling out near their mills and drinking beer while everyone else got slaughtered. Unfortunately (or fortunately) they are between the Undead and a whole lot of the rest of our island home.

The dorfs (we discover mostly through spending some time in the pub) don't really see any of this as their problem, taking the approach that it's nothing to do with them, they feel that certain concessions, particularly on trade and taxes along with more representation down south might assist. The issue being of course that down south in Lannndan, no one gives a shit

We decide to take in a bit more local colour first in Liverpool and then closer to home for me in the center of Dorf-shire (Leeds). It also is where my (the dwarf) family home is - Harrogate.

The major political players in the area are the House of York and the Lancastrians. Now dwarves are dwarves but these two houses hate each other, the only thing they hate more than each other is people who get in the way of them hating each other.

The house of York is lead by the famously promiscuous Henry the 8th (not being the 8th anything except one famously having eight mistresses in one night), the other is the puritanical Duke of Lancaster, Dick (or Richard) Dawkins.

There are also rumours of bad goings on on Ilkley moor which we think may bear investigation.

So to summarize:
*Ilkley
*Get dwarves on board and moving
*Obtain guns

Additionally there is a further consideration for me as a character. The trip back to Harrogate involves a little backstory which I'll go into in more detail shortly, but essentially I left under a bit of a cloud.

What we have heard about Ilkley relates to strange lights and decapitated (and also hatless) corpses. It sounds like something we may wish to have a look into. Now though the first thing the DM mentions as we travel by road to Harrogate is the distinct (and by now very familiar feeling) of being watched.

Travelling from Liverpool to Harrogate, Ilkley moor is on the way, we take our time, the lights are seen at night and so it seems prudent that we arrive about then too. The moor is misty and the moon is full. We still feel eerily under observation but if Coliunn is still alive, well more power to him, he's taken everything the world can throw at him, including us. Thinking back on it, aside from our first fight, he has not been overtly hostile particularly, but he has followed us across the country tenaciously

For once as we wait for midnight near Ilkley we are on properly friendly territory. Our visit to the pub goes to plan though the locals all look into their pints when we say what we are here for. It seems everyone there has lost a son or an aunt, a cousin or a husband. The village is a close knit community and they don't seem too keen to talk to outsiders beyond that. Even the reports of headless/hatless corpses came from a traveling government official who later went mad and accidentally killed himself while cleaning his fully loaded revolver with the back of his head. While sleeping.

We might be murderhobos but it makes us feel we are doing the right and proper thing.

For once...

We should notice and do something about the fact that the pub slowly empties as evening goes on until by closing time we are the only ones there and have been for a while.

Our first hint that something may or may not be right in the land of Yorkshire is that something appears to have happened to our truck. It was parked outside and appears to be suffering slightly from critical existence failure. It's simply gone.
:"Thieves?"
:"Wouldn't we have heard it start?"
:"Possibly, it was loud in the pub..."
:"Strong thieves who picked it up and carried it?"
:"That's just stupid bard."

Despite our missing vehicle we decide that we are here already and might as well be useful. We are meant to be (notionally anyway) problem solvers and servants of the crown (whatever that means), if we are going to do anything we should do the right thing (again whatever that is).

Aside from the hatless corpses we haven't heard or know of anything particularly weird in this area.

We head out onto the misty and blasted heath. The moon provides scant illumination beyond making the mist seem silver. We have to watch our step carefully.

The contrast of warm cozy pub and dewsoaked chill of the midnight moor puts us on edge. This feels like the all too familiar set up of small town and big weird magic problem.

We watch the mist carefully expecting skeletons or some supernatural horror. We are taken entirely by surprise as an enormous hoof steps between the party, then rises and disappears into the mist. The Kilburn white horse is nearby, maybe this is it out for a walk or a visitor. As it passes over head Angus is pleased to report it is definitely a stallion. He can "tell by the way it walks" apparently. The horse itself does not seem very threatening aside from being enormous. We continue on into the mist.

One of the reasons Yorkshire is famous for Dorfs is it's one of the places with actual mythology about Duregar (Dorf), which means I should really be knowing what's going on here, but as I stare into the mist I can make about as much sense of what we find as the others. [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hill_figure Hill Figure]

We see the shape of a man, but find it to be only the crudely constructed body of a green man, we approach other figures and find the same. A great shape looms from the mist, and as we disturb a flock of dozing grouse (to their near immolation) we realize we at least have a bearing. We have found the cow and calf (famous big rock and smaller rock). It's about now that we start to hear singing.

Something the innkeeper said comes back to us
:"No one goes on the moor at night willingly."
Well we aren't here willingly, we also aren't wearing hats (aside from the bard).

The haunting lyrics of [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_Ilkla_Moor_Baht_'at Ilkley moor] are sung in the distance, it seems like just one lilting soft voice. From previous experience this (Fuck you DM) is going to mean combat. The party ready themselves and tighten our formation.

The moor itself is known for ancient pagan megaliths and other odd goings on. Something is starting to feel very wrong indeed.

We pause at the edge of one of the many pools of still water on the moor. Looking in we can only see reflected moonlight. Then the stillness of the water breaks as something lands within it. We look up and around, no idea what or where that came from. It was a fairly decent splash. As the song continues the wizard coaxes the object from the water by dint of pushing it along with an iron bar. The severed head has its mouth open in a silent scream. The wizard visibly gulps. The rest of us take a knee, expecting a rush of slathering feral space jaguars at any second.

As the song continues (again and again, endlessly repeating) the head opens its eyes. They glow with an inner fire, it too starts to sing. The wizard (quite reasonably) freaks out and drops the thing in the pond.

We can hear more voices now. More singing. A choir entirely out of tune with each other but all singing that song and all a few lines out of step with each other. We are starting to feel distinctly panicky now. We are slightly lost and totally surrounded. We do our best to remember that severed heads probably can't hurt us as we watch the glowing eyes of the thing bob on the water. The Navvie reminds us
:"Missing heads don't hurt but whatever cut them off might..."

Alone on this strange and isolated heath surrounded by a cacophony of voices in the mist we decide (again quite reasonably I think):
:"Fuck this. Leg it.
:"Where?"
:"Err..."
:"We're lost aren't we?"
:"Maybe but, oh balls what is that?"

What is definitely magical fire sparks and whips around the Neolithic carvings in the stones around us and across the moor. The voices rise in volume. We start to wish we had stayed home or at least made more of an effort with the villagers. This is now totally beyond our skillset.

The mist begins to swirl as the wind gets up. Imagine being inside a snowglobe as its shook and wearing headphones blaring white noise. That is the kind of situation we are in here. A shape begins to coalesce out of the mist.

We are sort of relieved (kind of) as the very familiar shape of our truck lands in the pond behind us.
:"Hello Coliunn."

Something zings over coliunn's shoulders (or where his head would be) and he turns in surprise. We can't make out what it was, but clearly there's more than just Coliunn out there. You might almost feel sorry for the big lump. He only seems to want to beat us up and every time he does, something else intervenes.

Two more somethings zip over Coliunn. They are big almost bat like things. If we weren't mistaken they might be large enough to be humanoid. The party hit the deck as they make the return trip. We decide to leave Coliunn to it and hopefully he'll distract whatever those are.

This goes slightly wrong and we realize it does about the doubler stones. As I finally pass a lore check, we realize those things up there are witches. (The doublers being a popular mythological hangout for them).
:"Witches?"
:"Come on DM that's boring."
:...
:"Dude... no..."

Coliunn catches up with us about here. It's then that something peculiar happens. One of the witches (think bat/stingray/crow/harpy) goes for the wizard. Coliunn interposes himself between witch and wizard.
:"Friend?"
Coliunn then thumps the wizard hard enough to knock him over one of the stones (Coliunn thumping the wizard made the most delightful sort of "poffff" noise).
:"Oh, he wants to kill us himself..."

There's still singing and plenty magical fire, so things are well lit enough for ranged combat. As Coliunn is distracted with the witches, of which their only seem to be three, those of us who can fire indiscriminately on the lot of them. Meanwhile the Navvie, rather than charge into that lot, goes to find the wizard and generally attempt to scrape up the mess.

The wizard seems mostly fine. As the Navvie bends over him to try and help him to his feet, something snatches him from behind. The fourth witch. Talons dig into his shirt and the meat of his shoulders as he's lift from the ground and into the air.

Meanwhile Coliunn is having trouble with the witches. There are some large bits of him missing and his wounds are making him slower. The party find it much easier to shoot him than the fast hard to hit witches (though one is now on fire). As the Navvie disappears into the sky, the wizard joins the rest of the party and we are somewhat more successful with his help in bringing down one witch then another. Coliunn is a known quantity, these things are not...

Several hundred feet up the Navvie is not enjoying himself. His hammer is down near where he found the wizard and this creature is showing no signs of doing anything helpful. He is fortunate in having one arm free. He considers stabbing it, then realizes it's a very long way down.

Hanging onto a talon with his free hand he manages the extremely painful process of pulling his shoulder free. The pain is excruciating but he now has both arms free. The witch however is very aware its cargo is not playing along. The witch begins losing height, struggling to drop the Navvie, he hangs on for dear life, the thing also tries to get its beak/tendrils/maw engaged, but the Navvie is fortunate in getting his hand round its throat.

Struck between either being strangled or falling out of the sky while ripping its erstwhile prey to shreds with its talons, the witch decides on the latter. The Navvie can see ground now and it's coming up fast.

Back on the ground Coliunn falls onto his back. Wounds wreathed in magical flame. He doesn't seem to be getting any better. The witches however seem plenty fine. The ones we have brought down stay dead but there seem to be more and more. Taking cover behind the rocks, we keep firing and ducking decapitating swoops.

The Navvie shifts his weight to the thing's neck. Those talons tear great strips from his back but the witch is also now pointing directly at the ground. Seizing his moment the Navvie, seeing moonlit water below, punches it in the side of the head and let's go. The Navvie hits the water and comes up angry. The witch hits the bank and very shortly afterwards a large man comes up to it and caves its skull in with a stone.

The rest of the party can see that the numbers of the witches are starting to thin. They begin to retreat. Several of their number are on fire and we are able to track their flight to a nearby rise as the mist serendipitously (cheers DM) clears a little. As we prepare to wipe out the nest, the Navvie rejoins us.
:"What happened to you?"
:"Fuck off Angus."
The wizard hands him his hammer back and away we go.

The nest/eyrie/cave thing is a short climb but it's then that we realize.
:>Coliunn
We are totally unsurprised when the big bastard isn't where he fell. We are a little surprised when we discover he has only dragged himself a few feet and then collapsed again. We feel almost sorry for him as Angus torches him. He makes long plaintive moans like a bull in distress. Angus keeps throwing fire until long after they stop. We feel oddly sorry for Coliunn having grown somewhat fond of him.

As we climb the hill, the wizard looks back, a small, coliunn shaped figure rises from the ashes and slopes off into the night.
:>I am groot.
The nest itself contains a number of witches and a whole lot of eggs. The decision to toss explosives in and then burn everything is unanimous.

We decide to spend the rest of the night on the moor (without hats - by the way the hats were being used to line the nest). The locals seem almost nonplussed when we report their troubles are over. We can't help noticing that (as we hitch a ride on a mail coach) the butcher, the stable-boy, and the local priest can all be heard whistling Ilkley moor. It's only as we leave town that we notice the steeplecock on the church sure does look a lot like one of the witches...

We decide fuck it and try to get some rest. Meanwhile I am more than a bit concerned that, muddied, bloodied, and entirely grumpy we will shortly be entering my hometown.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PptHWHfnCnY Iron Maiden - "Seventh Son of a Seventh Son"]

The party travel to Harrogate aboard our new conveyance. There are plenty of other dorfs around and indeed it seems like there are a number of them in the livery of both noble houses (i.e. Duke of York and Duke of Lancaster). I (Aldous) haven't been in Harrogate for at least forty years, but Dorfs have long memories. The town does not seem to have changed much since I left, it does, in fact, seem to have gotten quite a lot worse. Interestingly, there's a new weather-vane above the church, it looks a lot like a witch.

I am fairly sure a number of people have recognized their erstwhile lord.

Younger Aldous and I had never really gotten on (according to my backstory) and as the third son (middle son having been killed in his time in the army) he had joined the priesthood. The last I heard was he had given up his vows to return to Harrogate and clear the family name. I'm a little surprised to see him in a very richly decorated cassock (priest gown) as he comes down the steps of the town hall with the Duke of York and Duke of Lancaster on either side. On his chest is a very big medallion. And on that medallion is a very shiny witch like symbol.

Little bro what have you been up to...

We roll past the town hall without him spotting us thankfully, but we are starting to wonder if I might not want to be wearing a disguise or something as we are fairly sure little bro is not going to be keen to see me.

We do have our Royal Charter, which technically entitles us to anything we want, but will only actually work if we have either a very patriotic request or happen to be standing in front of an army. It's unlikely to be much protection.

Something very familiar and very witch like lands on the steeple of the church.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X_2IdybTV0 Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son]

The party considers responding as we generally do to this sort of thing (with diplomacy and tact), but decide it's probably best to relax and see how things pan out.

We note that the town square has a number of gibbety looking things on it, which are full. The gibbets are definitely full of headless corpses (bad). The local population being subdued makes even more sense now.

I think a crudely drawn map is in order.
[[Image:Britbongsteros_map_4.jpg|thumb|150px]]

The white arrows are where the undead have gotten to so far. The purple lines are where defenses still hold. The Undead's plan is pretty clear. Make for London, kill everyone and the country can be mopped up afterwards. It's a lot like Bonnie Prince Charlie's plan during the rebellion and umpteen other Scottish Invasions.

Harrogate is smack dab in the middle of the route those Skellies will be taking, sitting as it does between the Yorkshire Dales and the North moors. If the Dorfs are getting involved, it's going to be here. We have a feeling little-bro is not going to want that.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJVpihgwE18 The Animals - We Gotta Get Out Of This Place]

Trailing along behind little-bro is someone else. Someone I should definitely recognize.

My. Ex. Wife.

[It's never simple is it DM?]

The party beat a tactical retreat to the most obvious place of safety (after thanking the wagon-driver), the Old-Dragon's Balls hasn't changed a bit. Neither have the staff. Including Neville the bar-keep who recognizes me and performs what is very clearly meant to be a bow.
:"My Lord, you still have a..." He reaches under the bar and blows dust off something. "A tab to clear up."
:The bard titters, "Friend of yours Aldous?"

I'm fortunate in that we do have a small slush fund. I dump my share on the bar. There's a depressingly small amount left by the time Neville is finished counting. He asks me why I'm back, and who my friends are. We decide not to show him our letters, and instead explain it's a new business venture
:"Traveling circus my Lord?"
It's about this time the DM is tactfully reminded that he is on his fifth of my actual beers and he hasn't ponied up for drinks in a very long time. Suddenly (and clearly unrelated) the plot-train pulls into the station.

What sweeps into the Dragon's Balls is my Ex-wife, who really hasn't changed a bit. Punching out Henry the Bouncer, and swilling down a flagon of ale that Neville proffers to her. We can see a big shiny gold witchy symbol sitting on the sizable shelf of her decolletage.
:"Aldous!" (Cruella had great fun doing the voices again).
:"Hello..."
The party, as my true friends and compatriots, decide to stay the fuck away and sit back watch the show.
:"So you're here... I hope this isn't some foolish attempt to patch things up. It's been four decades and you should know I've remarried anyway. (It had to be... 3... 2... 1...) Yes little bro and I are very happy. Especially since he converted to the new church."
She arm wrestles the Navvie as she continues talking (the Navvie loses to his -pick a word beginning with "a"-)
:"So would this be something to do with these symbols we keep seeing around the place?"
:"Yes it would. It's also why (the DM sneaks another beer) we are going to make sure the dukes see sense. Now you're not here to ask for money or something are you? I have missed you, you know, but it was never the same after Talula died (Cruella who is doing the girly voices dissolves into laughter and the DM continues, she takes some time to recover). Well I suppose I'll be off. Try not to overstay your welcome."
The party look to me, mostly stunned at the way the ex just swept in and out with all of the poise, grace, and total irresistible force of a battleship (similar build too). The alchemists who have drifted in following her arrival suddenly all look into their beers as she departs.

Well it certainly seems we have our objectives laid out.
:>Little bro must be dealt with, then something must be done about the army. If possible. Finally, rifles.
As I say, here does not seem the place to discuss the matter. We are hesitant to start a fight with alchemists who may or may not be allies (who are we kidding, they're all dicks but they are as far as the crown is concerned double agents, additionally they provided apparatus that heats Queenie's bath so we can't slaughter them indiscriminately).

The decision is made to repair for a pie. There was and still is an excellent bakers around the corner. Neville waves goodbye, clearly pleased his practice of never clearing slates has worked.

It's a little later in the day now and there are a number of witches perched on the eaves of buildings now. They seem to follow our movements as we walk. The townsfolk seem to accept them as a fact of life.

While tucking into one of Mrs. Miggins something and something else pies we plot. We need to speak to the Dukes. The Dukes are meant to hate each other, but little bro seems to have found some common ground. Given that Henry has the reputation as a whoremonger, we figure if we (as is unanimously accepted) visit the town brothel we will bump into him. The matter is met with enthusiasm (except the bard who the Navvie just picks up).

The Axe Wound (Yorkshire and Dwarves do not make for complicated names) is pretty much as I remember it. I'd not be too surprised if some of the girls are as well. Henry is upstairs. Some of his bondsmen along with a human are drinking in the common room. At the moment we look like smelly adventuring hobos (we are). We can't just walk up and start shouting.

The human we decide is our target. We don't recognize the musclebound shaven headed and scarred Percy Bryce Shelley, but maybe we should. The human is most likely to be something to do with the privy council.

We inveigle ourselves through a number of consume alcohol tests and get involved in a game of cards with the bondsmen. Percy watches while the wizard chats. It is established that Percy is indeed our man, and that he is indeed an agent of the crown keeping an eye on Henry. The letters of Marque which we show him are enough to get us an audience on the promise we bathe first. A good brothel has such facilities and a short while later we are ushered into the presence of Henry

Henry is very much nouveau riche and is also one for conspicuous consumption. He seems dismissive of us at first, but Percy persuades him to hear us out and indeed usher the gaggle of whores out. We establish Henry is not terribly keen on little bro, or the new-fangled religion he is espousing, he is mostly here because he doesn't want Lancaster getting his nose into something that he isn't involved in either.

The present administration (Queenie) isn't, as far as Henry is concerned, all that great but is better than nothing. So as long as we "don't let that bastard Lancaster get a leg up, we'll smash these undead bastards our bastarding selves" Little bro it seems has been mediating in the centuries long dispute between the two houses and Henry is quite happy to be rid of "I'm and 'is fookin bastard birds"

That seemed easy... too easy...

Deciding we are done adventuring for the night, we spend an uneventful but very pleasant evening in the axe-wound generally causing mayhem and blowing off steam.

The next morning with sore heads and consideration given to bacon and fried eggs, we prepare to consider Lancaster. Henry offers us one final consideration before leaving us.
:"I won't be doing anything while that bastard still draws breath..."
So he wants Lancaster dead. We are unsure how we feel about this. The two Dukes lead sizable armies, but the two will need to work together or at last stand in the same place to hold off the undead until they run out of momentum.

Lancaster is very much the spartan hairshirted opposite of Henry. He swims in the frigid waters of the Oak Beck most mornings and then when not negotiating spends the day in contemplation at the fountains Abbey (very pretty building I should add). The monks (yes there are still monks in Britbongsteros, the dissolution never quite came about with all the magical weirdness) will at the very least see us repentant sinners and from there we might just get to speak to Lancaster.

We set off with plenty of those witch things flying over head. There must be at least thirty odd that we have seen so far. Little bro is up to some weird magics we think.

Things go surprisingly smoothly with the monks and Lancaster agrees to see us.
:"ARE YOU HERE TO ROOT OUT THIS HERESY?"
:"Hi?"
:"THE HERESY. THE NEW CHURCH. THE BLIGHTED UNGODLY HARPIES (he means witches) THEN YOU MAY ENTER."
Once we recover from this, we present our letters of Marque. Lancaster seems pleased.
:"ROOT THIS OUT AND THEN WE MAY TALK ABOUT WHAT TO DO WITH THE DUKE OF YORK."
Clearly Lancaster is a bit of a nutter, but he's also on the right track.

We return to Henry and establish that he is also not astoundingly keen on Little bro. Our next task, little bro must die.

:>Does Little bro have to die?
Fuck yes. For a whole variety of reasons. If nothing else what is going on with these Witch things? It seems most un-dwarfy and definitely not something we want flapping around the countryside. Whatever it is, it's probably alchemical in nature and therefore double bad.
:>Where is little bro?
He's in my house for one thing.
:>Does the party like little bro?
Meh
:>Do I like little-bro?
Nah, he seems like he's gone off the deep end.
:>What's the plan then?
Convince the Dorfs to march to meet the Undead together.

Local reconnaissance (pub) [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f55CqLc6IR0 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f55CqLc6IR0] followed by a scouting mission led by the least pissed member of the party (the Navvie) results in the following information:
*No one has really gone near the castle recently without a very good reason to be there. Apparently strange lights are often seen around it at night. The servants have either taken to wearing masks or just up and left the area (or not been seen...)
*Little bro has been leading congregations at the local churches and gained an awful lot of followers, the most devout moving in around the Castle.

:>What's the this cult about?
No one but the followers seem to have an idea. It seems to involve giving little bro lots of money and has gained a huge following among the local dorfs and some nascent adherents/satellite churches around Yorkshire, this is why the Dukes are paying attention to little bro, their people are starting to follow him, they may not like him but as a representative of the third estate, he's got a very big say.

N.b. the result of giving little bro lots of money is "induction into the deeper mysteries" of the cult. If this sounds at all like a contemporary religion this is entirely coincidence.

What the deeper mysteries seem to involve we don't know, but according to gossip there's a lot of speaking in tongues
:>Likely: sacrificing
:>Also likely: Orgies and what have you?
Certainly not, we're British.

We think given the events of Scotland, we could quite easily just kick in the doors of my Dorf Fortress and kill everyone inside. Then we actually consider that. We do want rid of the cult, but is slaughtering a load of people necessarily a good way to carry out our mission? Maybe we should get a bit closer, heavens we could even talk to little bro and get his side of things.

After giving the matter appropriate thought, we get a bit closer to the castle, getting within the grounds. The DM has us all rolling perception checks. It's about this stage the DM reminds us that our characters are all more than a little pissed. I blame this for what happened next.

We come across a group of a dozen or so cultists of varying shapes and sizes. It seems there's some sort of ceremony going on in the castle and they're on their way in. Although they're unarmed and as surprised as we are when we blunder out of a bush into them, without establishing anything beyond the fact that they are wearing silly costumes (think KKK) the party as one charge them and start knocking people out then getting them naked. Shortly afterwards we are disguised.

Disguised as best as we can be, bearing in mind that the cultists (for want of a better term) are all dwarves... we approach the entrance to the great hall. As a reminder, I am the shortest member of the party at a tall-for-a-dwarf 5'3. The lankiest being the wizard and bard who are well above 6'.
:DM: "What did you chucklefucks decide to do with all your weapons as you approach the doors?"
:Party: "Errrrrrrrrrrrrr" [extremely perceptive anons may have noticed that in later stories the party got much better at going incognito, this is why]
:DM: "It's too late now..."
The Cultist at the front door has had a couple of drinks himself.
:"Aren't you a little tall for a dwarf? What are those things you're carrying?"
As the dwarfiest party member I get shoved forwards.
:"The Church is a multicultural organization and these others have as much a right to be here as anyone."
The guard thinks about this.
:"And what's all that stuff?"
A flight of witches passes over head, cawing and barrel rolling around each other against the night sky.
:"Those are... those are props..."
:DM: "Roll for it."
The guard pokes at the "hunch" created by the fuel tank of Angus's flamethrower.
:"What's this?"
:"Err... definitely a hunch, he's very sensitive about it, do you mind?"
(Angus for once cottons on to something and shies away)
:"What's this thing then?"
:Navvie: "This? Definitely a walking stick."
:"And what has this lanky thing got under his robes Is that a skirt?" (He means the bard)
The Bards player does possibly the most worryingly good falsetto we've ever heard.
:He squeals "Get away from me you beast! Unhand me! This dwarf is trying to steal my virtue! He is assaulting a lady!"
Heads are starting to turn. The guard is making placating gestures.
:"You can never tell with humans..."

The DM, clearly slightly amazed by what just happened, decides that the guard lets us in. The session ended there, so sorry for the retardation of the above, but staying true to the source etc.

The next session begins as we enter the hall.

There's quite a ceremony going on, lots of candles on a great big chandelier, little bro is on an altar at the end of the great hall speaking gibberish (so at least that bit was right) and up in the rafters there's plenty witches.

We smuggle ourselves into the back of the crowd. Angus, Wizard, Bard, and Navvie all stand out like sore thumbs among the shorter folks. It does mean however that we are there in time for the show. From fonts positioned strategically around the hall skulls slowly rise, eye sockets glowing and they sing along slightly out of tune with little bro.
:>This looks familiar.
The witches up above start to caw and crow as though they are either unsettled or very happy about the proceedings.

The ceremony continues with lots of singing (we don't know the words or language but do our best) and then little bro delivers what actually sounds like rather a nice sermon. Love thy fellow man, pay no heed to lords and ladies and most of all, pay no heed to the Queen or country, accept the "golden coin" (which we assume is the symbol he and wifey wear and everyone else has on) and donate your worldly goods for true wealth. Most importantly the church offers protection from undeath, allowing you to go to a better place at a time of your choosing and not rise again.
:>This sounds less good.
Indeed from what we know of the Anglicans (English religious sect who in actual Britain are all about tea and jumpers) they would burn the place down, then crucify the ashes, then burn those, then salt the earth, burn the salt, and then burn the ocean for producing the salt based on what we just heard.

The long and the short of it, is we listen to the rest of the ceremony then decide to have a chat with little bro. A very serious chat indeed.

This should have the air of some final showdown, lots of manly stares, of fingers twitching over holsters, a battle of wits and nerves. The Bard speaks first (seriously he wanted to, we rolled for initiative and everything).
:"So this cult, what's it all about?"

Little bro at this stage has no idea who the bard is, or that I'm present, all he knows is that some weird looking people have turned up dressed as members of his church. His eyebrows crash together as he processes the bards question.
:"Who the fuck are you?"

Now the following is from Vox-DM as it were. As the party had left the last session in a completely retarded way some railroading was in order. We apparently should be grateful we were not just executed on the spot.

As I hope I have made clear, we recognized just how dim we had been and so when little bro, in front of the entire congregation who are milling about in the church, gestures to a number of his retainers, who we were all apparently too stupid to notice look decidedly shifty, and bids us be taken down to the dungeons (I used to live here and I didn't know we had dungeons) we have to balance our desire to remain free against our desire not to kill the still very likely mostly innocent congregation.

The long and the short of it is that we are (without a great deal of fuss) disarmed and frogmarched to the "dungeons" (actually the old root cellar). We are manacled and left alone in the darkness except for the four of those retainers outside the door. The retainers we note don't talk, they also smell funny, slightly spicy but also like rotting meat.

The manacles themselves the wizard can resolve fairly easily. Getting the door open isn't too hard for the wizard either (mastery of metal is amazing as powers go). However fighting hand to hand is going to be interesting.

Acknowledging we have been fucking stupid and that we are very lucky to be alive, we decide to (very quietly) make a plan.

We have all seen enough war movies to know that we should all wait behind the door then wait for the guards to rush in to the room when one of us feigns illness. As the least useful of the combat characters, this is the bard's job.
:"Go on bard. Perform."
:"Ow. I am sick. My tummy hurts."
Nothing happens.
:"Ow oh noes please open the door!"
Nothing.

The DM kind of jerks his head at me and the Navvie. The Navvie kicks the bard in the balls and I do the same a moment later. The yelp of pain is convincing enough that we hear tumblers turning in the door.

The retainers open the door. A shaft of light lancing into the room. One half steps in, looking at the bard. It has something which projects light in its hand. That something looks a lot like a soul cube. It shines the blue light to where we should be. It emits a hiss of alarm as it realizes we are not where we should be.
:>Shit.
What follows is a very undignified fight. We get a shock when the hood of one of the retainers falls back, revealing a half rotted skull. Black teeth wet with stinking slather as it bites for the Navvie. As we beat the hell out of them (mostly assisted by surprise and the wizard extremely helpfully summoning nice weighty crowbars) we realize the stink of death is all over these things.

Now little bro in his sermon said fuck all about necromancery, but these things are clearly the work of some kind of corpse-fucker. We prioritize regaining our weaponry, which thanks to my knowledge of the place and indeed logic, we find in a nearby storeroom.

As far as we know the alarm has not been raised. As we proceed through a (new) tunnel we hear footsteps. Ducking into a passage we hear and see little bro and some retainers leading about a dozen members of the congregation past. Little bro is explaining (we hear as they pass and as we follow) that as they have donated all their worldly goods, they are ready for the next level of the church.

We come into an entirely new room. It's not astonishingly well lit so we follow the group, hiding in the shadows as best we can.

Little bro has each of the supplicants kneel. The retainers move behind them. Behind little bro is a big... thing... like an ornate mirror frame without the mirror. He bids each of the supplicants open their palms with a knife. They oblige (mostly) without hesitation, each then making a bloody hand print in the book little bro offers them. Little bro then speaks some very odd words and the "mirror" shimmers as where before there was nothing there is now a tiny tightly bound ball of blackness. It bursts outward, slipping tendrils around the frame.

In the mirror a necromancer appears. One who will become extremely familiar (this is Frank's boss).

The supplicants are starting to look woozy. Their palms glow with light. They look very ill. Bowels evacuate and eyes burst.

The necromancer speaks.
:"Hello little bro. What news do you bring me?"
:"The Dukes remain too busy loathing one another. Lancaster is obsessed with my "heresy" and amasses forces in what he believes to be secrecy. York will not commit himself unless he is sure Lancaster is not amassing those forces to attack him. Both must treat with me as they fear popular revolt. The plan has succeeded my liege (liche?)."
:"Excellent. You are using the last of my experiments to good effect?"
:"The witches breed well here, and are powerful allies my Lord, and the ghouls (retainers) are loyal and fearsome in my defense. All is well."
:"Then a reward. Take these six as ghouls and a further six of the skulls to nurture into witches."
Half a dozen of the supplicants just straight up die. Decaying and mortifying before our eyes. The other six scream as the light from their hands pulses upwards, imagine if your skull suddenly became incredibly hot, like lava hot, and then just burnt through your skin. All the while emitting incandescent light.
:"My Lord, I go now to commence the ritual. The congregation has grown to number in the thousands. They fill the great hall and the lands of the estate. With your permission I shall prepare and slaughter them. May they swell the ranks of your forces. For the route to London is clear."
:"Very well."
Little bro looks pleased and bows before "hanging up" the call.

Now we know what those skull things are about. Also we decide now is definitely the time to initiate some combat.
:>Why didn't you do it earlier and save those people?
It took us some time to get to grips with what was happening and by then everyone was dead. Also we know exposition when we see it.

As little bro has the ghouls collect the skulls and beckons them upstairs we engage. The violence itself is quick and very messy. My weapons make the most noise so I elect to follow the Navvie, stabbing things rather than alert the entire building.

Little bro definitely recognizes me in between pieced back together ghouls. Indeed little bro seems to have learnt an awful lot from his master. We have to fight step by step as bits of ghoul knit back together and go for us. We are very slowly making for little bro and he can see we are getting there.

He is clearly thinking about running. Those floating skulls are doing a merry little orbit around him. He bolts. We can't make for him but I'm fast enough to quick draw and get a bead on his running back. It's then I think about what I'm doing. After all, little bro is little-bro. By the time I get over my thoughts (and roll) he's nearly out the room. The wizard, having no qualms, flings a harpoon at him and misses. My shot wings him. Making him stumble.

Underground the shot is incredibly loud. Little bro has been hit but keeps going. Setting in motion whatever inexorable process will come next to serve his master.

The ghouls are still getting back up, but now each time they are slower, as little bro's attention shifts they grow weaker. It's not long before we are able to follow in his footsteps.

Angus torches the twitching pile of bodies that the ghouls have now become to ensure they won't be following us.

We make for the stairs. The trail of blood from little bro makes it clear we are heading in the right direction. As we get back to ground level we can hear the screaming and cawing of witches, but otherwise things seem "normal" That is until a cultist runs past us, panting from exertion as a witch follows him, ready to decapitate him. The wizard puts paid to the witch.

The cultist (once we calm him down) says that a minute or two ago there was a sound like a gunshot and the witches went insane, not wantonly slaughtering, but methodically tearing apart people. Limb from limb. Collecting bits and piling them up. Also hats. Apparently the ex-wife was the first so that's something
:>Single gunshot
:>Couple minutes ago
:>Aaw shit.

We get into the main hall and the scene is as described. The remaining ghouls rush us as do those witches still within. The combat is desperate. We are all injured and very very damaged by the time the last one drops.

We start hunting for little bro. He doesn't seem to be in the pile of bodies, but it's hard to tell. Outside, the rest of the cultists are still being hunted. As the search for little bro is proving fruitless, we decide it's best to save lives and head outside, hunting witches through the night.

By morning the witches are all dead, as are a large chunk of the local population. We still haven't found little bro.

In the distance from both southeast and southwest we can hear drums. The drums of both Lancaster and York's armies. They're both marching toward us. Clearly having heard of the events of the night.

Little bro is still awol. Which is bad. Lancaster and York are lining up their forces on the field outside the castle. There are bodies and bits of witch everywhere. As the party shyly approach the two armies. Who are about three hundred yards apart we can see cannons and other dwarven artillery being unlimbered. This is gonna be a bloodbath. Lancaster and York can be herd arguing with each other in the center of the field. We decide we need to make an entrance and however we make that entrance, it'd better be good.

The castle itself wasn't too smashed by the night's fighting but there's still some smoke billowing across the field. The haggard remnants of the followers of the church are gathered in small, stunned clumps. While we did manage to save a few, there are not very many (think XCOM terror mission with "poor" in every category).

Lancaster can be heard haranguing York.
:"YOU FILTHY LAZY SOD. THIS WOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU WERE NOT HERE. I WOULD HAVE WIPED THIS STAIN CLEAN."
Before York gets his reply in, the bard hops up onto a bullet marked wall as the party walk forwards the bard pipes.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JXJ12_j9lo Sabaton - Unbreakable (Starcraft videoclip) HD]

It does exactly what we want it to, we definitely have everybody's attention.

From one of the little knots of refugees, some of which are dotted between the armies, a voice rises to conflict with the pipes.
:"YOU! YOU DID THIS! YOU STARTED THIS!"
Hello Ex-wife.
:>I thought she was dead?

:>Apparently the ex-wife was the first [to die] so that's something
:>Apparently

Lancaster and York do not react very well to this. The party and Ex-wife meet in the center of the field with Lancaster and York. The argument is loud if not particularly articulate.
:"They started this, they shot Little bro! They are the reason all these people are dead!"
York seems to believe her (she is technically correct), Lancaster takes the slightly more sensible tack of asking us
:"Did you do this?"
:"Wellllllllll yes sort of..."
:"Those flying things were you?"
:"No. That wasn't us."
:"Them killing everyone was?"
:"No..."
:"Why did they kill everybody?"
:"Because Little bro was shot!" (screams ex-wife)
:"Because Little bro was in league with the necromancers!" (we shout)
Neither of the Dukes look convinced and they are clearly looking for an excuse to disagree with one another.
:"Don't believe anything my ex-husband says!"
:"Your ex-husband? You're that Aldous?"
...fuck.
:"Why should we believe the drunk?"
The Navvie and Wizard speak up or try to. (thanks guys)
:"Shush you ceiling scrapers, this is dwarf business (fuck you DM)."
:York asks "What have you done with Little bro? The de-facto lord of this manor? You said you shot him didn't you?"
Lancaster is starting to realize that although there's not many followers of Little bro around, York might be choosing a side, if York is choosing a side, Lancaster is damned if he isn't going to be on the opposite side. He bristles.
:"Clearly there was some taint here... they have wiped it out, as I ordered."
:>Shit.
Technically, Lancaster is correct, he did ask us to do this (sort of). The dumb bastard is also spoiling for a fight. York's normally big smiling face goes stone cold.
:"As. You. Ordered."
Ex-wife is pretty good at turning a situation to her advantage, standing by York now, she takes his hand in hers,
:"YES! THEY DID THIS!"
We have one chance before this turns into a total complete and utter mess, the armies here could very easily wipe each other out pointlessly, then there goes London and there goes Britbongsteros. We really are not qualified for this.

York turns on his heel. Ex-wife is very careful to make sure she stays exactly in step with him (no flies on her) Lancaster mirrors the motion.
:"Argh fuck fuck fuck quick do something!"
The DM gives us all a moment. We all talk over each other.
:"Ok lads, whoever rolls highest gets a go to save the situation."
Dice are rolled. Angus gets the highest roll.

The fate of the nation hangs by a thread.
:"Angus quick, do something!"
:"Fuck errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"
:DM: "Hurry up Angus..."
:"Oh cock..."
:DM: "Hmm? Did you say that?"
:"Oh cock, oh fuck, no yes what? Ahem I mean..."
:"If you stick your cock in an arsehole, makes sure it's wiped first."
Lancaster turns first.
:"SODOMY? WHAT? WHERE?"
York turns back,
"That is...that is actually quite good advice..."
Angus you glorious green bastard

I won't go into enormous detail on the social stuff that followed, but we were able to convince the two Dukes that if they were going to fight, they should have a nation to fight over first. If the Undead took London, then they were next anyway, the two aren't very happy with each other's existence, but they do agree to march to meet the undead together.

The issue remains, where the fuck has little bro gone?

We have a little party conference and it is decided that it's probably best not to let the two Dukes march together without the party as mediating influence, especially with ex-wife around. It will however take a few hours to get both armies ready for the longer march, and (hopefully) they can be trusted to do that themselves.

The hunt for little bro is on.

We descend into the tunnels of the castle again and pick up the blood trail easily enough (there's not much actual blood down in the lower level - plenty upstairs). We follow the congealed blood to a door, the Navvie "opens" said door and we come into a small store-room. Again I should remember this being here. I don't.

The blood trail stops in the center of the room. Examination of the room shows a lack of secret passages or revolving fireplaces. The boxes and shelved items do not indicate an obvious hiding place. We theorize he may have stopped here to try to bind the wound and at least staunch the flow of blood. We don't know if he would have died without medical attention but he is also some sort of necromancer's pet. So it's also possible he was mostly dead anyway.

This still clearly begs the question of where the fuck has he gone?

Further investigation doesn't turn up shredded clothing or similar indicators of first aid. We have learnt our lesson and looked up as soon as we got into the room sooooo... Where is he?

We decide to get some light on the situation. With the lantern lit we start to notice the ants. Ants are ok right? Little tiny things. Harmless in the UK so who cares? There's a little trail of them going from the blood to a eeeeny little hole in the wall. The bard, who is interested entomology, has a closer look.
:"Those aren't ants."

Well if they aren't ants what are they? Beetles? We have learnt that anything even slightly weird is generally to be construed as a bad sign. We hear a vague tapping sound from behind the wall. The bricks shift and strain. We get the sensation of a cocoon or seeing a pregnant belly move.

There comes what I like to think of as a defining moment for the party.

We back out of the room. The Navvie still has a couple sticks of TNT. With assistance from Angus he lights one and rolls it in. As we retreat to a safe distance we can hear masonry fall. We were being watched. We cover our ears as the blast rocks the building. Entirely deafening in the closed quarters. Angus doesn't look into the room he just torches it. Playing fire across the smoking wreckage. When we finally look into the room a vaguely animated skeleton takes half a step toward us then falls to the floor. It's wearing a medallion. The medallion seems to have spread tendrils of gold through the chest of the wearer. Like a second nervous system almost.

The DM seems rather annoyed that we just took off and nuked the site from orbit rather than stuck around. I take a moment to pay my respects, crushing the skull with my boot to make sure he stays down.

So with an end to little bro, we rejoin the armies. York and Lancaster have already argued twice but haven't gotten into any fights yet.

The party are careful to stay between the two of them on the march north. We avoid any real confrontation mostly by dint of keeping Lancaster amused by Angus and the Wizard's antics. York is a bit more bothersome as ex-wife is hanging around like a bad smell. She has however worked out that York is too much of a womanizer to tame and is looking for her next victim. The only eligible bachelor as such amongst the party is Angus. So she doesn't really bother us either.

Through several arguments it is decided we will meet the undead between Thirsk and Snape (yes it's a real place). Our objective is simple survival. To re-dead as many corpses as we can. This won't be a conflict of manoeuvre and guile, this will be standing and holding the line against the wave of bodies coming from the north. The more we put down, the more likely it is to weaken the necromancer and make this push on London fail. If that happens it'll be enough to buy time for a counter-assault or at least to shore up defenses.

Fortunately this is the sort of warfare the dwarves excel at. York deploys on the left of the valley and Lancaster the right. If Lancaster didn't insist on calling the marching undead "Yorkshireans" we might feel good about things.

We entirely expect the two to double cross each other.

:A little note on Dorf military forces:

:Much like Warhammer really. Staunch ranged infantry who are not bad in melee either. Heavily armoured and armed with rifles, pistols, heavy cutlasses, there are a large number of grenadiers. The most potent things are their gatling guns, spigot mortars and rifled cannons and the rest of the artillery train. The elite of the army are very heavy infantry who practice a weird form of the highland charge. They have heavy tower shield which will more than stop a bullet. The shield has a device like a claymore mine on the front. A regiment will advance behind these, at a set distance ignite the mine, causing an enormous and hugely deadly spray of musket balls, then charge from behind those shield with greataxes. It's a dated form of war but a nice touch I thought.

[[Image:Britbongsteros_map_6.jpg|thumb|150px]]
Ok this isn't the exact valley but it's Yorkshire and close enough.

Triangles are artillery, squares are line infantry, diamonds are elite infantry, white and red is York, and red and white is Lancaster, the purple blob is us.

The big white arrow is the dead.

:>What is actually in the undead army?
We have no real idea, necromancers are limited by their own imagination (and to a lesser extent resources). If they want to make a giant magic bone based tank, then they can. It's often more useful though (and easier to control) loads of skellies. They will however definitely have giants. Fortunately we have dwarven artillery.

On this scale (and at the level) the party are not able to just cleave through an entire battle line however, so our role will be as problem solvers. Perhaps to shore up the line where it waves, or to take out anything particularly big and nasty (again that thing about being woefully under qualified...)

We have had the luxury of the day to entrench our positions, but we know full well that the undead needing neither sleep or light will come with the darkness.

A peaceful late summer evening becomes a late-summer night, clouds roll lazily across a harvest moon.

We (or the dwarves anyway) have set up a killing field and we've filled ditches with tar out across that field to provide illumination and further funnel the undead. Zombies and skeletons are not smart, necromancers however are, and we full expect some sort of ruse or surprise attack, anything to break our lines or give those skeletons the advantage.

There are enough scouts that the troops are able to sleep in shifts, dozing in their armour where they lie. The mood is one of determination not jubiliation. We are here to stop them, not to conquer, not to plunder, but to stand firm, a bulwark against which the tide of bodies will wash. The fate of the land and the ungrateful, uncaring nobility, the mass of downtrodden peasantry, this wonderful weird land hangs in the balance. Victory here will not end the war, it will not even greatly weaken the undead, but it will stop the advance for now.

Lancaster has been seen sermonizing, speaking out against sin, debauchery and other veniality which (according to him) lead to undeath. He has whipped his followers into a frenzy several times. He has not however been doing anything greatly useful, like siting his guns. This task was left to us.

York, in response to Lancaster, proceeded to get steadily more and more drunk. It doesn't seem to have impaired him but so have his troops. He and they are more obstreperous than usual. We do our best to sit between the two camps and break up fights before they turn too serious.

The Undead have (according to scouts) advanced slowly during the day, but with the night have increased in speed significantly. The first real notice we have of their approach is a swarm of beasts of the field, live rats, mice, hedgehogs, even some deer, they scuttle through the grass and heather, birds fly over head as though escaping a wildfire.

What follows are those creatures that were too small to turn to the necromancer's will but which have still reanimated, tiny crushed and broken bodies, crawling and yet still driven by the imperative to flee in their decaying minds, in this wave also come those refugees who fell by the wayside, those who were too broken in body to fight with the skeletons, and yet still convinced that they are alive. The first task as our forces muster is to put down the old, the sick, and the young. We do not check too closely for signs of injury, knowing what is coming.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp3BlFZWJNA Penderecki: Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima]

These are all things we had expected, but it puts the mind on edge. Fear is one of the greatest advantages of the undead. They have none and the living have plenty reason to be afraid.

There is a scent... or maybe a taste to the air.

For everyone it is different.

The scent of the cakes grandmother used to make before the illness. The way your father's hands used to hold you before the accident. The way your little brother laughed before the horse kicked him in the head. The way your best friend always would smile before you killed him in a drunken rage.

The way your wife was so happy before your little girl was taken away.

We can feel it ourselves, the troops can feel it too. For everyone a private sadness, the sort of thoughts that come to a man when he confronts the cosmic infinite in his own bed, knowing that every act, every small moment of happiness ripped and hoarded from the great darkness will run through his fingers like sand. All good things must fade. No happiness is eternal. The sweetest flower will wilt, the most beautiful of women will die, and all is dust.

Think anon of yourself, you for all the comfortable certainties of your life, you yourself will one day die. That is the cosmic inevitability, we all will. We tell ourselves that Tuesday follows Monday, but for you, the ultimate reality is it will not. Think of each and every man on that field confronting that with none of the warm reassuring thoughts of home, of those things we tell ourselves will make the night seem less cold.

Feel that creeping knowledge that every heart beat in your chest is entropy, ticking down to a death that is all the more certain with every passing second.

It saps morale, men look into the darkness and there, just as the tar-pits are lit, can be seen ranks of the undead stretching into the horizon. Look into that anon, and see death and try to cling to the tiny bead of light that you are in the uncaring darkness of the universe.

Now is clearly the right time for some sort of inspiration. Lancaster is praying all the harder, York is staring into a tankard. Well... looks like our job.

The party stands in front of the two armies and turn to them. They know fine well who we are and why we're here. We have some small reputation now and maybe we are worth listening to.

The bard does his best to perform, and kicks into a song. It's not quite the roll we hoped for.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNKttMFgaf0 Black Sabbath N.I.B]

but it's good enough.

:DM: "Whoever wants to speak, get rolling."

We split, deciding two different speeches are probably better than one.

The wizard speaks to Lancaster's troops.
:"You follow a God who will usher you into the light when the time comes, until then, what you do on this mortal earth is what will count in the final reckoning. Make it count."

The Navvie is a man of few words but when he speaks, they generally follow one another in a logical fashion and carry some weight to them. The cosmos and the human condition are not for him.
:"The dead are dead. That's all they are. One day you will be too. It's what you do before that happens that counts, and between now and then I'm going to fuck as many fat arsed girls as I can, and I'll slaughter any bony fuck that stands between me and them."
This goes over surprisingly well with York's forces.

It's not long after this that the guns on the hills start to roar. Mortars spitting flame and fire into the darkness, cannons firing more slowly, tracking and trying to target the giants that can be seen amongst the ranks of the undead.

The undead meet the line infantry in the center of the field. The Dwarves make them pay for every step before they meet their lines with shot and shell, but when the two forces do meet it becomes a slow meat grinder of a combat, the two lines press, ebbing and flowing, neither army will break and neither will give quarter.

The party have taken up position between Lancaster and York as the two watch from behind the lines, about fifty odd yards apart. The Undead press hardest on Lancaster's troops. Orders are taken from this command post (that we are at) to reserves or gun batteries, each of the Dukes commanding forces that are thrown into the general melee. The death toll is enormous but the Dwarves hold.

Lancaster commits his heavy infantry in a flank charge that twists the undead line back. It's about now that we see the undead creatures (ghouls maybe?) scaling the cliff toward Lancaster's now unprotected guns. York orders some of his reserves to engage, to protect and retake the guns if necessary. The men begin to slog up the hill, as it evens out breaking into a run. The undead have not just taken the guns, but turned them. York's force charge straight into the teeth of the guns and the few that make it fall to the ghouls atop the rise. The loss of the guns not only reduces our firepower but as the ghouls turn the guns on Yorks across the valley, we are in a lot of trouble.

The party are volun-told to do something about them.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRqCOIsTx8M Metallica - Disposable Heroes (Studio Version)]

Whatever we do it has to be fast. We plan as we run for the guns.

The Wizard is able to smooth our ascent with summoned pitons and then as we scale the rise, we engage the ghouls at close range. The fighting is extremely messy indeed. The ghouls are tenacious and there are a lot more of them than we expected. The rest of York and Lancaster's reserves are meant to follow us up once we distract the gunners and by god do we make enough noise and raise enough hell to do that. The Navvie tosses TNT, the Wizard is able to man an organ gun, Angus and I run inference with shot and flame. The bard is the bard as usual. We form a knot of resistance in the gun battery. They are still getting some shells off but we suppress, distract and ensure they are focused entirely on us.

We steal a glance back down the hill. The reserves have been engaged by what look like cavalry. We are cut off. Outnumbered. Alone.

So basically, we are boned.

Down the valley the dorfs don't seem to be doing too well either. Our immediate issue is ghouls. The more havoc we cause the better. We don't know if we should be spiking the guns, but we settle for doing what we do best: Kill everything.

Of course indiscriminately tossing explosives about and using a flamethrower in an artillery battery is extremely unwise. We realize this shortly after the enormous explosion which knocks us off our feet. Fortunately we are unharmed. Mostly.

We didn't set off the ammo dump but we did take out a fair number of the guns and of course lots of ghouls. Which is good.

Shortly after we are starting to thin their numbers. Looking down into the valley things look very warhammer as dorfs and skeletons fight, the necromancer can be seen hovering over the ranks of his troops, sucking souls from those stupid enough to face him. The undead giants plough into units of dorfs.

We could man a gun or two, which might help, or... we could help the reserves.

Manning a gatling gun (an orc handling) toward the melee slightly down the hill, we are able to assist somewhat. Though indiscriminate fire into a melee does lead to some friendly fire...

The dead dorfs however are starting to rise. The undead horsemen don't seem to be staying dead either.

It's DM decision time.
:Ok. If that lot get up here, we are dead.
:Can we save the dorfs?
:>maybe
:How?
:Err... We could charge down there...
:>there's five of you...
:We could...
:>tick tock
:Hmm...
:>sixty odd dorfs left, couple hundred skellies... they're right below you...
There is a hint here, an obvious one. Question is, are we going to go for it...
:>Can we/should we kill the dwarves to save ourselves?
We don't want to but... We are gonna have to...

We are all complicit as we prepare kegs of gunpowder with fuses, lighting and rolling them off the cliff face and down. The series of large explosions brings very little room for screaming but we can definitely smell something like bacon.
:Bard: "Is anyone else hungry? Lets get pizza."

We concentrate now on spiking the guns. If we can't have them, neither should the enemy. The battle proper seems to be about even. We think a little cannon fire might assist there. We leave one of the the most accurate and modern looking weapons untouched.

Several minutes of ooc discussion about pizza interrupt things. Giving the DM more than enough time to plot. N.b. he's a vegetarian. Not terribly relevant, but I think it somehow goes to the root of his bastardry.

Looking down over the field with a crew served weapon and aiming over open sights, we reckon we must be able to pick off some high value targets. We start sniping giants which actually goes reasonably well as even a miss sends bits of skeletons everywhere. The necromancer doesn't take long to notice however. The first bolt of lightning is a near miss. The second we think probably won't be. We aim carefully and... entirely fucking miss.

We get off another shot at him which crosses paths with the actinic bolt of lightning that arcs toward us. We dive for cover as the shell explodes below. Looking down, we seem to have very definitely pissed him off.
:>Excellent.
He starts to float up the hill toward us.
:>Less good.

On further consideration of this issue... We notice the DM has actually written out an actual speech. A real, live, BBEG speech.

Perfect.

We pile up some shells and powder. Angus and the wizard light a fuse. We obscure the whole lot with a tarp just as our new necromancer friend pops over the edge of the cliff. We retreat back into the and turn to face him. The DM is a bit miffed that the necromancer fails to notice our trap as he levitates nearby to it.
:"And now is the winter of your discontent!"
The sky darkens as the necromancer flings his arms wide. We can see the fuse is just about to hit the kegs.
:"Now is the end of the world of the living. I shall allow you mortals to fight me, to make one last effort in the face of the inevitable."
As we collectively jump backwards into the shellhole we have at our backs. It can only be one last statement.
:"Get fucked you bony bast..."
The munitions go off and once earth stops falling and we can hear again. We peek over the lip of the crater.
:"He's... gone?"
:>DM: "I have got to stop giving you cunts explosives."

We look down into the valley, the battle still rages but the dwarves are regrouping and seem to be turning the tide. The necromancer isn't dead, but seems to be at the very least retreating. He is also on fire.

It seems we have accidentally broken another campaign. We feel oddly pleased about this.

As regards to the rest of the battle, there's not much else to note in detail. We get stuck in, but without the necromancer nearby to micromanage, the skeletons are weaker and soon the field is ours. This is excellent. Casualties have been extremely heavy however. The victory is pyrrhic for the dwarves.

We on the other hand have "saved" London and gotten the attention of the Queen.

The necromancer has returned to Edinburgh to lick his wounds. So for now the invasion is off.

===Meltdown on the Isle of Man===
A short trip to London later sees us meet Queenie herself for the first time. She is in the bath when she receives us. She still has a small rubber duck.

She doesn't seem particularly enamoured with us, originally thinking us to be 'Some sort of variety act? Possibly the Aristocrats?' Once she is informed who and what we are, she decides she has a mission for us. A very special mission, she says, idly signing another death warrant.
:"I am very fond of smoked herring and something seems to have happened to the Isle of Man. Fix it."
We are not stupid enough to tell her she already has us doing something. This we assume takes precedence.

:The Isle of Man: chief exports - kippers. The north end of it is populated. The south end (due to what used to be a research institute with links to Aberdeen and various other magical folk) is now entirely uninhabitable since said institute went full Chernobyl about fifty years back. The north end however has a thriving fishing and kipper smoking community, of which, Queenie is very fond of their produce when it comes to breakfast.
:Though being a faerie she probably has them done in blood or something.

No one has heard much from the Isle of Man in a couple of months, and no kippers have reached the mainland either. Reports from ships say the harbour was empty and that there was an air of foreboding such as the crew would not venture ashore. The Isle of Man is of course near Ireland, so it is assumed Cthulu has eaten everybody, Queenie however likes kippers from there and this is why we find ourselves aboard the armed trawler, HMS Irrefutable, being battered by the worst storm the Irish sea has seen in a good number of years.

We discover that the Navvie gets sea-sick in bad enough weather, as does the Wizard. Angus is already green so he's fine. The bard, according to his rolls, is loving the situation. The rest of us mostly alternate between wishing we were dead or praying that the boat doesn't sink and kill us.

The crew of the vessel are largely laconic and generally uncommunicative but will be back for us in a week. Which as we stand, alone on the quay in Ramsay, makes us feel rather isolated. The port is entirely empty. No signs of fighting. Also no one around. It's very eerie but also a situation we are already familiar with as this happens to us a lot.

We start cautiously searching, expecting to find hordes of zombies or a seething mass of tentacles or a shoggoth or something. Instead, nothing. It's clear there's something up, but this time there's no clues as to what. We do note however the animals are gone too. No dogs, no cats, not even flies. It's all very odd.

I said the place is empty, but we treat it as though there's a dire cazador around every corner.
:Angus: "Maybe they've all gone for lunch?"

On a more sensible note, there are no boats in harbour, which is to be expected for a busy fishing village. Except staring down into the waters it seems like a number have been sunk. So that's probably not good. We are in the midst of arguing when we spot movement from within a chandlers. Naturally we drop all pretense at thought and give chase.

We pursue whatever it was we just saw. It's small and fast as all hell. It is however our only lead. It was definitely watching us and bolted as soon as it was spotted. The door of the Chandlers is no obstacle to large hammer. Searching inside turns up lots of sails, no people, and something small and very, very fast.

We point various weapons (and some bagpipes at it), the wizard is able to wing it with an iron ball which knocks it flat and over a box. Surrounding the little fucker, it seems we've cornered a large weasel.

It very slowly raises its hands.

:"I surrender..."
:"Dafuq DM?"
:"No furfaggotry in here."
:"I'm Gef."
Suddenly something clicks for the Wizard.
:"Aah it's a Mongoose."
:"The fuck are you talking about?"
:[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gef Gef]

The back door is kicked in. A large chap with a most impressive tache points an extremely big rifle at us.
:"I'm Mary. You have a problem with that."
:[http://www.imfdb.org/images/8/88/Trem4_046.jpg DM shows us a picture.]
That is definitely a punt gun.

Well... this just got slightly mad.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBEXSiFzOfU Journey - Don't Stop Believing]
:"Hello err... Gef... and hello... Mary..."
Goodness that is an entirely stupidly big gun.
:"What have you bastards done with all the people?"
:"We just got here! That wasn't us..."
:"Then where is everybody?"
The Mongoose has scuttled up to sit on his shoulder.

The Navvie, sotto voce utters
:"Who is this nutter?"
:"I HEARD THAT"
:"Where did you come from?"
On closer inspection, he looks like he's been living rough for a while.
:"The south side of the island"
:"No one lives there. You're lying. Was this you?"
The punt gun goes back up, aiming at us
:"Ok obviously that was the wrong question..."
We ask him if (assuming we believe him) he knows where everybody went, or at least how long they have been missing for. Apparently he and the rat come to town once a month or so, and this being the day of the month they do, he has as much idea as we do. He does however seem pretty keen to help out. We offer to enlist this looney.

:>Why is he called Mary?
:According to the DM - Well the Mongoose of (the wiki link) talked to someone called Mary. Not everyone could see him, but he always spoke to her, and apparently "I needed a name"
We ask him about his pet.
:Wizard: "Fits at rat aboot?"
:"What rat?"
:"The whin on yer shoolder?"
:"What. Rat?"
:"Furrae thing, next tae yer heid?"
:"Is this a trick?"
:"..."
Ok so it seems like he is unaware of it. Which is... odd...

The Mongoose gives us a wave.

Shortly afterwards, we decide to head southwards and see if we can find the rest of the folk. Mary says he won't come with us, but he will be around (DM avoiding DM PC) and will be keeping an eye on us, so we don't steal anything apparently.

The more perceptive anons amongst you may recall on some of the crudely drawn maps, the Isle of Man is marked as something along the lines of "NEVER GO HERE" well what follows is why.

The party have, for the most part, seen Tremors, so we are entirely sure that if there's something going underground, we already know what we're doing. The DM is very shortly afterwards sick of us looking for holes where someone might've been sucked down, and carefully analyzing the ground beneath us to ensure we are walking on rock. Such meta-knowledge is frowned upon in Britbongsteros.

We're well into the island and a good distance from the sea when the DM has us all start rolling.

Balls. Probably not a good sign.

We are on a road with plenty of vegetation either side, but lots of stones beneath, so we're probably fine. We think.

Then several things happen at once.

The wizard is on point, he is told he can sense "something out of the ordinary nearby". Being a prudent man, he sends a ball bearing slowly hovering down the road in the direction he can sense. He is somewhat surprised when it simply disappears about ten feet in front of us. Off to one side, something moves in the bushes.

The rustling sees the party prepare for a fight. The wizard is however much more curious about what's going on ahead. He sends an iron bar to follow the ball bearing. Noting that it seems to dissolve at a fixed point about ten feet ahead of us.

Meanwhile, Angus helpfully says
:"Make yourself known or we will shoot."
The rustling continues.
:"Last warning."
Rustling comes from either side of us now. We think this is definitely some sort of ambush. The party open fire on either side of us.

With the ferns shot flat (and a large amount of the west side of path on fire), we eventually stop firing.

There's no bodies. Nothing. Closer inspection reveals some larger plants which are leaking an unusual colour of sap (bright green), but beyond that, nothing.

The Navvie makes to move forwards and off the trail. The Wizard grabs him by the shoulder as he passes him. The Wizard tosses another ball bearing. It disappears like the first.
:"Dafuq is that about?"
The Wizard takes a step to the right, and does the same. Then another.

This process repeats, until a ball bearing lands on the ground with a satisfying thud. We advance a few steps, and do the same. The wizard's innate abilities and ball bearings leading us around the anomaly.
:>anomaly
Yes.

Some distance away, we hear an enormous gunshot. It can only be the punt gun. So that must be Mary. We decide to make for it. He must've been making for us following the fusillade of fire we just unleashed. He may be in trouble and that thing doesn't reload fast. The Wizard's detection doesn't ping so we make fairly good speed, we hear another blast from the punt gun followed by a hell of a lot of pistol fire.

We crest the small rise, ([https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVWESrIt3uk Predator Theme Song]) and find Mary standing with a revolver in each hand, smoke rising from both barrels. The punt gun a good two feet shorter than it started out lying on the ground in beside him.

He spins to face us. Holding up his hand.

The wizard detects another anomaly in front of Mary. We are starting to theorize what may have happened to the townsfolk (we did not investigate the town very closely did we... and if walking into an anomaly dissolves you... then it's possible that's where they've all gone). Mary holds up a pistol in front of his mouth in a clear "shush" motion.

There's definitely something in the bushes. Lots of somethings.

The plants move and sway. Angus decides defoliation is a very sensible notion. As plants burn movement can clearly be seen. We unload on it. Meanwhile from our flank, something rustles a bush next to Mary. Mary manages "Clever girl" before it leaps.

The thing looks like a velociraptor with mouth full of tentacles. As Mary goes down, he screams "Kill the beastie!" which helpfully provides us with a taxonomic classification. There's also a lot more of them.

Now I'm having trouble finding specific reference to this thing online, but according to the DM's sources this thing had a pedigree having been seen in 1910 (in our world) a couple times on the Isle (or at least a large lizardy thing). In any event, we do what we do best.

The dead creatures soon litter the road. Mary it seems is pretty severely wounded, he asks we leave him there, he'll catch up. We do our best to bind his wounds and prop him up. Leaving him with his weapons reloaded and head southwards.

As the mongoose reappears from wherever it was hiding, we leave them be. As we head onwards, the anomalies become more frequent. The beasties can be heard moving around, but none attack. The countryside starts changing as we proceed, the ferns and heather giving way to windswept trees, a small forest. The anomalies are easier to spot (half a tree for example).

Just because the anomalies are easier to spot, doesn't make them any less dangerous. The weirdness starts to ramp up the further south we go. Though it's still light, the woods seem darker, stranger. We're somewhere near Stony Mountain Plantation (so named because there's a great big stoney mountain surprisingly enough, no really, it's on the map) when the familiar rustling comes again.

There's no bushes or shrubs for them to be hiding in.

We look up.

:>shit.

They're not quite in the walls, but they are in the canopy.

The combat, although were I a drawfag would be awesome, is not very exciting to describe aside from the Navvie successfully intercepting a flying leap and smacking a beastie in the face with his hammer, sending it back the opposite direction. Itshould land in a small stream, instead it explodes. Which is new.

There's still plenty of beasties coming for us when a crack like thunder rolls across the sky. The beasties all pause, their heads snapping upwards. Looking into the distance and the source of the sound.
:>[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwaJhYv9FYE blowout stalker]
We haven't been on the island long enough to know what this is, but we already know this is probably fucking terrible.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1w7OgIMMRc4 Guns N' Roses - Sweet Child O' Mine]

We can't dive into the ravine because anomaly. We search for what cover we can find. The beasties have begun to retreat, plainly with the same plan.

We search about, well really the Wizard picks a direction and starts running, we follow as best we can. He stops dead occasionally and we skirt more weirdness. Areas where gravity isn't right and the ball-bearing shoots into the sky, others where the ground bleeds, a particularly interesting area which appears to be a vertical pond, before we hit on a small swine-herds cottage (or at least that's what we assume it is), the thing is still standing so that's something.

We dive inside and prepare to wait out the storm.
:Angus: "I hope Mary is ok..."
The thunder grows in frequency, lightning strikes across the landscape, smashing trees and sparking off anomalies. We hunker down, powerless in the face of the storm.

As the storm rises there is nothing we can do but try to wait it out. Something that certainly isn't rain batters down on the ground outside. It's more like hail, it rattles off the roof. Hundreds and thousands of... seeds? That's what they look like anyway. They sit innocuously on the ground as rain falls. Flashes of lighting come faster and faster, all coming from the south. Rising to a climax. It feels like sitting in the middle of an artillery barrage. Thunder makes communication impossible.

Thunder. Lightning. Thunder. Lightning. The wizard has done his best to seal us in here. We hunker into what has become a bombshelter. It's like the world is spinning. The storm is a physical thing. We dig deeper into the earth as a shockwave of force blasts northwards toward us.

When we are able to get our heads about us again and look out, everything is changed. The earth has been blasted clean, nothing biological stands above six inches tall until at least the mountainous peak of the Isle.

On the ground fresh seeds sit, as a multicoloured rain hit them, they germinate quickly. Where before the storm there were ferns and small trees, now there are redwoods and cycads. We can even see the remains of beasties, at least everything below the ankle anyway, slowly growing into new forms. Instead of tentacles and velociraptors these are furry, low slung, vicious looking lobster things.

It's like the entire island has just been reset.

As we step outside, the new plant growth (already swelling into a forest) and still with those recognizably oddly coloured sap plants (above) which are starting to flower. We hide within the cottage. The Navvie elects to venture outward. As he does, the plants belch a visible cloud of pollen. He gets a good lungful of it and falls coughing to the ground. The rest of us elect to make crude gasmasks as last time and follow him to try to help.

He is up on his feet before we reach him, lumbering like a sleepwalker southward. His eyes are glassy and blank. We can't stop without hurting him and instead do our best to follow and make sure he doesn't fall into any anomalies. As we pass a beastie slowly being frozen on one side and on the other slowly peeled by gravitational forces, we are very thankful for the wizard.

Our "gasmasks" aren't perfect and we can all feel our perceptions altered slightly. I for one conduct an inner monologue with dwarvish saint Geoffrey Chaucer, Angus seems... different somehow, he lovingly caresses the trees and calls out to the beasties that he "will be gentle with them!" The wizard makes himself a little orrery of cannonballs and has great fun with them. The bard... somehow... is totally fucking fine.

We navigate slowly, moving like drunks, giggling as we blast the odd inquisitive beastie. The DM insists that if we want to communicate with anyone but him, we must speak backwards to replicate the difficulty of communication under the fug.
:"Reeb a em evig" etceterea.
It's a very odd little dynamic, it makes coordination impossible. We lurch along between two anomalies, one a simple whirlwhind, the other appearing to be slightly out of time as it's autumn in there, here it's midsummer.

As the still growing redwoods tower over us, the bard attempts to talk sense into us. We can see and hear him, but somehow his words and actions seem to just flow over us without sticking, we can definitely hear him, but we just don't process his words at all. If I'm not describing this well, think "pyrovision." It becomes a struggle to keep each other alive as the DM will warn someone that a hazard will occur to another member of the party, but the one at risk as no idea.

For example:
:"Pots sugna!"
:"Yhw?" (You try pronouncing it)
:"Enivar!"
And Angus has no idea he's a step away from a fifteen foot drop.

Anyway, this fun continues as the Navvie seemingly unerringly follows a safe path, and we stumble around him. Eventually, we come to the lip of a crater, and at the center of that, sits what can only be the institute. A converted monastery which seems perfectly fine despite the size of the crater in which it sits. The earth has been baked by the blowout and is barren. A small cloud of magical energy boils above the building. In there is the source of whatever the fuck this is about and given what happened to the Navvie, the possible location of the locals.

We are either adjusting to the pollen or just starting to sober up, but by the time we knock with a boot on the front door and exclaim
:"By England and St George we are here to fuck you up... You"
Everyone except the Navvie seems to be mostly back to normal. Within however, the place seems almost entirely like a research institute should. The reception area seems like any other reception, and aside from the little piles of salt everywhere, untouched. Angus cannot resist putting his finger in one and saying "yup that is salt" after tasting it.

We decide, obviously, that we must go deeper. The corridors are empty, though the piles of salt in one direction seem to have been disturbed as though trodden by oh so many feet. We follow that path (and the Navvie), the wizard can definitely sense magic ahead.

We start to hear moaning, which in our experience is never good, except it sounds happy. Which is probably doubly bad. There's also something that can be heard moving behind us. A slow dragging noise. We are going to have great trouble wrestling the Navvie to a halt however.

We can't slow down the Navvie without great trouble. He's by far the strongest of us, and though not in full control of his actions or very coordinated right now, no one really fancies trying to grapple with him. The wizard (as wizards sometimes are) is able to be useful, weighing him down with bands of iron around his legs, then Angus takes the simple expedient of tripping him. This slows him down enough that we can wait for whatever is behind us to catch up. We use doorways (leading off the corridor and into what are clearly offices) as cover as we prepare ourselves to meet whatever is behind us.

What's behind us isn't immediately recognizable as... anything really... it's man sized, but in the gloom of the building and our one light (no other illumination in here), its clearly human sized.

We wait for it to get closer... and oh... hello Mary.

At least we think it's Mary.

Burnt, blackened and blasted, he wheezes for breath, he limps, dragging a foot behind him, using his gun as a walking stick. It seems he decided to follow us and didn't have as good a shelter in the blowout as we did. The mongoose however is perfectly fine. It asks us for help. It seems Mary has had a dose of the pollen too, but he doesn't react to it like everyone else, instead going slightly crazy (becoming even more unhinged than when he started out).

Gef shouts (squeaks?) at us to stay back, it's too late however. Mary has definitely seen us, and that punt gun is coming up. We have only a couple seconds to respond and that huge gun will turn the lot of to paste if he fires it. He slurs something about demons and voices in his head.

The DM has us all say what we're going to do at the same time and then roll to see who does what first. I try to speak to him, Angus prepares to immolate him, the wizard attempts to pull the gun up and move his aim to the ceiling, the bard dives for cover.

The chain of events goes as follows:
:"Mary it's us!"
:>Mary struggles with his gun
:>The Bard hides under a table
:>FWOOSH

Now Mary going crazy because of the pollen thing explains how he seems to be the only islander that was vaguely normal. Regrettably, Angus has just torched him and his pet. The flaming corpse falls to the ground. Angus spits.
:"You're welcome."
The mongoose seems to have been torched too. We don't feel great about ourselves but... there wasn't much else to be done (DM, you're a cunt). The Navvie is still a few feet away and still not entirely with it. He's started to cough however, bringing up mucous and spores, if anything it seems like he might be shaking it off slowly.

From up ahead, we can still hear moaning and the occasional scream. Whatever has happened to everyone else, it is certainly not good. We decide that using the Navvie as a homing pigeon is fruitless and we need some way to get him back on his feet and helping. The bard is the most medically minded and assisted by the wizard they decide on a course of action.
:"Whiskey. Lots of whiskey."
They figure if the Navvie's mind is under the influence of something (i.e. the pollen) then what's needed is something to scramble it. So if they get him good and drunk, it might "jam the signal" as it were.

With the still smouldering corpse of Mary behind us, the two of them persuade Angus to part with some of his stash and pour Tomatin 12 into the Navvie without a great deal of trouble. To my surprise (not theirs) it works, as the Navvie goes from waving his arms ineffectually and generally slack-jawed to purposeful movements, reaching for the bottle and finishing the rest. By the time he's finished, he's smiling.
:"Hi guys."
He tosses the empty bottle behind him. It should smash. It doesn't smash... Instead it goes "twomp" (as though hitting something soft) and can be heard rolling down the hall. This is out of the ordinary enough that we stop walking. The long low growl from behind us is definitely not good.

We turn in enough time to see the now standing Mary's rib cage split open as flesh melds and flows, mutating, running like water, reforming.
:"Oh fuck."
Whatever it's doing, we decide to go full Thing on it and let Angus torch it again. This time he keeps playing fire until there's nothing but a smear left. The flames are starting to lick over furniture and walls. It seems like we've also set the building alight - oops.

Well we're here for a reason, there's no point trying to put the flames out and it's probably for the best that the place burns down (if we had a motto it'd be "leave nothing standing"). With whatever happened to Mary in our minds, we head onwards into what looks like laboratories or at least places where science got done. We can't be far now from whatever happened here.

No one knows a great deal about the institute beyond it being somewhere where something bad happened, and that no one really wanted to investigate after whatever accident occurred.

We pick up some clues as we proceed. The facility is fairly big and we are going down flights of stairs and deeper into the facility. We expect violence or threats around every corner, but there's nothing (yet) just that sound, that constant low sound of distress and ecstasy.

We are able to piece together clues as we go, finding notes or simply using logic, there was an experiment here, a grand, grand experiment. Sanctioned by Queenie's Dad, it was a magical investigation into the very building blocks of all life and all other things. The theory so it seemed, was that if man was composed of small tiny things (cells), then perhaps those smaller things were themselves composed of smaller things, and then those smaller things... could themselves be separated into smaller things. Eventually, through this splitting of components, the signature of god or the maker of our world must, logically, be found. Therefore, the goal was to:
:>Split the atom.

:>You were building bombs?
No, this was (for Britbongsteros) pure science, an investigation into the world itself and how man came to be.

:>What the fuck went wrong?
We have no idea.

:>Why didn't anyone come to look?
Combination of bad-juju, weirdness, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, God doesn't want us looking too closely.

:>What was going to happen next if it worked?
Man would eventually find the very building blocks of life, and could, in theory, make it himself.

:>Making life
This was actually a theme of Britbongsteros itself which the more perceptive anons may have noticed throughout the setting. Everyone is up to it somehow. (Or blowing it up).

We proceed onward and downward. The facility seems to spiral around one central chamber, which we can't seem to find a way into yet but it's the source of the sound. We haven't seen or felt an anomaly in a while but the Wizard thinks (as though it weren't obvious) that the source of the weirdness is in there.

Eventually after a couple of logic puzzles (one using displacement and the other an interesting attempt to have us use common sense that resulted in the Navvie simply smashing the Gordian knot with his hammer) we come to the doors of the chamber. We get down to what must be the lowest level. There are still piles of salt but there aren't any monsters or anything. We find a large pair of blast doors that just have to be the center of the facility. We prepare ourselves mentally and physically and boot them in.

Of course, kicking in blast doors doesn't work very well. Aside from hurting Angus's foot, so we open them instead.

We know from the signs of the passage of people through the facility that we should be expecting something bad. We are not quite ready for what we come across though.

Naked bodies of the couple thousand islanders are piled together below what looks more like an altar than a device of science. There's something on top the altar that looks like a reactor or... something. There are the fried remains of a skeleton clutching a lever. We decide the only thing to be done here is smash the thing and bug out, if that's what's creating the blowouts, then it's what needs doing. It's only as we get closer to the islanders do we realize that they are fused together, a single mass of humanity, moulded and warped, and they're still very much alive.

Smashing the machine is easy enough, giving it a whack with his hammer sees the thing break down into component pieces. So that was easy... Too easy. The moaning, shifting mass of bodies that we just clambered over starts to flow, to alter, to tremble, component parts make for us...

We are in the center of the room surrounded by a slowly shifting (but getting faster) sea of bodies. What we thought was the wreckage of the machine sparks and sputters. Something that looks like a van Der graaf generator flashes into life. The apparatus seems... angry.

The facility rumbles and shakes. We seem to have woken something. We decide the most important thing here is
:>leg it.

The Navvie drops a few lit sticks of dynamite and Angus burns us a path to the door. The bodies are slowly mutating. By the time we are out of the room we can see individual critters with partially human attributes lumbering after us. They also have a mix of wicked looking bone scythes or claws, exposed suppurating muscle glistening wetly. The human parts chant nonsense words and phrases. The faces seem horrified, as the DM puts it, as if they are aware of their condition.

We don't have enough explosives to detonate the facility but, fuck it, time to go. We can get out alive then worry about the rest.

It's impossible to describe in detail the confused violence of our journey upwards. It took long enough to get down there but now as we leave the place, pursued by the creatures (DM called them villagers which somehow felt worse), they are faster than us and explode from vents or simply chase us. We do our best to mow them down but we have to fight for every desperate step. The wizard thinks there's another blowout coming soon and if we aren't out of here and in cover by then, we are extremely dead.

The villagers howl or scream inarticulately, managing a few words and phrases, some cry or whimper. Terrified seemingly of what they have become. We want very much to run as fast as we can but instead it's a slow, steady pace, we have to be methodical as villagers leap, crawl, slither and slop towards us. In the darkness they loom, slashing and biting. We will be joining them soon. Thunder can be heard as another blowout becomes a certainty.

It seems the researchers here certainly made life, but oh wow did it go wrong. If the piles of salt are anything to go by then they weren't around to know it.

Sometimes, not knowing is worse than knowing. We don't know exactly what or why these things exist. The machine seems to have been created to split and transform life on a grand scale. Whether what we face is what was intended we just don't know, and as I frantically thumb shells into my shotgun, I don't care.

We have been lucky so far, but as the Navvie batters down one assailant another gets a good slash into the muscle of his shoulder. The bard is grabbed from behind moments later, nearly eviscerated before the wizard can drive a stake through the villager. The villager herself gibbering deliriously about mending nets and why the hens have stopped laying.

From the rantings of the villagers more of what happened can be pieced together. A big storm followed by animals doing strange things and people walking away (pollen), some villagers scream or shout things like "Stop walking father, please! Come back!" Or "Edith please... don't go... why won't you wake up?"

The building is still definitely on fire (Angus's further actions haven't helped) and as we get back to ground level the place is full of flame and smoke. Outside lightning flashes, that blowout is going to be soon. Very soon. The villagers are harder to spot in the choking smoke and the fire slows us further as we have to rely on the Navvie making new doorways for us to get around it. We finally come to an exterior door. It's already open. A small thing, but at the door sit two child sized knapsacks. It might be making a leap of deduction but it seems whoever those belonged to were the first people to enter here and started this chain of events rolling by accident somehow. That small skeleton holding the lever would on the machine would have been about the right size...

We get outside, still pursued and now having to deal with beasties too. The redwoods and cycads will be gone soon but they provide plenty of cover to lurking packs of them. We make for the coast, wizard in front as now we have beasties, anomalies and villagers to contend with. In the distance we can hear a ship's horn, something must have seen the smoke. The thunder and lightning is becoming more intense, we are not going to make it to the coast before the blowout. We need shelter. The wizard spots a small dip in the ground. It's not much but it's enough for him to make a sort of Anderson shelter with, and for us it's going to be our Alamo as, if we stop, all kinds of mutant hell is going to catch up to us. In the rain and lit by sheet lightning, we look at each other. This is going to be a hell of a fight.
:>Bard has the biggest shiteating grin.
:"This is jolly good fun isn't it!"
:"...shut up bard."

We dig in as the wizard slowly and carefully constructs a shelter. Big fat drops of green rain splash down around us. The woods are alive with mutated creatures and they howl, as though knowing the hunt is at a climax.

The report of my shotgun is joined by that of the wizard riveting boilerplate together. The shelter slowly takes shape around us as villagers rush us. It all feels very zulu.

Slowly the world begins to shrink, as plate after plate are joined around us, finally with creatures battering at the structure from all sides, there is just one window sized gap through which they all try to boil at once. I rapid fire into it as the rest of the party try to help the wizard push the last plate into place. When it's secure, we lie panting in the darkness. Listening to the tattoo of creatures beating on the shelter. The iron deforming under the blows almost faster than the wizard can fix it. The noise is incredible but eventually it is subsumed into the rumbling howl of the blowout.

Later, with our fresh "gasmasks" firmly in place, we emerge from our cocoon into a new world. Strange tropical looking palms and beautiful black roses cover the island. The beasties are much bigger now, rhino sized centi-octopus-pedes. They take some killing but we manage to make it to shore. There is the oh so beautiful sight of a battleship. HMS Rodney. We manage to signal it and shortly afterwards, we convince the captain to empty the entire magazine on the smoke of the institute. We don't know if this is enough to put the machine out of action, or if we have fixed anything, but seriously, fuck the Isle of Man.

Later, Queenie is more understanding of the lack of kippers than expected, but having discovered Peterhead Smokies, she's actually not terribly bothered by the plight of the Isle of Man.

We on the other hand are told to get on and do some work. Getting those rifles is what we should be doing. The necromancers have been on the move again and are up to something new in the villages and towns around Newcastle. Plenty of alchemists have been seen with them. It would be even better if we could capture one and learn something about the metallurgy of the guns rather than just grab a sample to reverse engineer.

The privy council are however persuaded to part with a motor vehicle to assist, and thus in the jalopy 2 we head northwards.

===The Purple Penguin===
'''Note: This was the first story told in the campaign'''

Our tale begins in (not) enlightenment era Britbongistan. The nation stands on the brink of annihilation. Barbaric hordes rise in the swamplands of the western island, to the North the undead rise. Gun powder has allowed the nation to stand this long. Our band are on a quest for an ingredient that will make for better quality metallurgy in the cannons and rifles, maybe enough to turn the tide.

Now our GM likes to present us with choices. As the group's resident dwarven knight (from not Yorkshire) I often am the one everyone looks to for a steer on these.

In the relevant session our choice is to chase down an enemy alchemist, who we have been trailing for days now, or we can let him get away and save a village from the undead.

We are in an area that is near (not) Newcastle. We have with us a stoic human, a working class navvie who uses his hammer to smash the undead and return them to hell followed by inventive curses. He has no family but is from around this area. By the way his name was Burt.

I say
:"Obviously we go for the alchemist. It will save more lives in the end"
:''>DM slips navvie a note. Ooc: "DM you're a bastard" says the player.''
Our titan of a navvie looks at the horizon.
:"The village my Lord it is... it was my home"

The rest of the party argue. The DM reminds us that the alchemist is getting away. Time is running out. We go for the alchemist.

It doesn't take long but we get him. We get him good. We turn round. We make for the village. It's ablaze.

We scream to a halt in our jalopy. The undead are lead by a Necromancer. One we've met before. The Skeletons engage us, the Navvie goes at them. Bellowing. Bodies fly. My pistols grow hot. Our wizard summons chainsaws and the slaughter continues. Our bard plays the song of vengeance upon his bagpipes.

Meanwhile. The Necromancer is stealing soul after soul. Picking up each screaming villager and inhaling their essence, tossing husks aside.
We can't save all of them. Maybe one. Just one.

We don't. The last is a little girl.

:''>DM hands navvie another note. "Fuck you DM"''

The Navvie screams as he recognizes her. His niece. She cries for him. For help. And the necromancer removes her soul into a container. As he tosses her withered empty husk of a body aside. He trampled upon the little purple stuffed penguin the girl had been holding. He vanishes.

The undead are slaughtered but even in the hissing and popping heat that comes when our Scottish flamethrower carrying greengrocer uses his signature weapon. Even in that heat, the tears track through the soot and grime on the Navvies face.

We cursed the village, the war, ourselves.

I picked up that little penguin and put it in my cartridge belt.
:"We'll bring his owner back. I promise."
:''>So began a year long quest to return the penguin to the little girl.''

:>Necromantic apocalypse

:We learnt that it all came from a simple farmer. He tried to make his cows last longer, give more milk. He started to research, obtaining darker and darker books. He succeeded. Completely. His cows were famous. A plague struck his village. His wife died. He reanimated her. Then his children. Then his friends, his neighbors.

:What he didn't know was that in our world, necromancery works on a body, giving you the human they were back. Until the brain decays. Then they become first a zombie (with all the face eating and turning others with bites) then a skeleton as the flesh decays. A skeleton bound completely to the will of the necromancer. In our setting skeletons were hard as fuck. Hence the slightly mad weaponry we carried to fight them

We left the village. It burned long into the night. I could see it as I smoked my pipe in our camp. The bard played http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iK9LXdl-6eo
the Navvie and the greengrocer (a sort of orc thing from what was once Dundee) broke into a bottle of my whiskey, then another. They used the alchemist (above) as a bench. His muffled cries lost in the skirl of the pipes. We had kneecapped him and tied him up earlier.

I sat and looked at the little penguin. Cleaning my pistols. The other party member, the wizard (actually an engineer from Aberdeen who had the ability to summon and command machinery such as the aforementioned chainsaws) sat with me. He (and the player) bawled inconsolably.

We needed a plan.

Britbongsteros looked like and had the same terrain as regular britbongland. The undead held most of Scotland, Aberdeen was a fortified port city now. Dundee no longer existed. Edinburgh was the heart of the necromantic apocalypse. It was most likely where we would have to go.

Glasgow still stood. Just. Everything else was held along the old antonine wall. The west of England was under assault from what would be Ireland and Welsh barbarians. The barbarians were either Celts of the old stripe (nekkid, blue) and supported by Elder horrors. The Welsh were more beastmen. Half man half something. (I should add I'm sorry Wales).

The barbarians would raid and pillage frequently. In the south England was England. Human until the midlands, dwarves in Yorkshire.

We didn't interact much with the rest of Europe (aside from sinking a German cruiser -different story) but the French women were generally slutty elves. We liked them.

In Buckingham palace we had a faerie Queene (as in actually a faerie). If you've ever watched blackadder, she was basically queenie from that. Childish, capricious, bloodthirsty.

Anyway. The first thing we would have to do to get to Edinburgh was either win the war or learn to fly.

Dwarves don't like heights, so I naturally favored winning the war. We returned to our base of operations (and my ancestral home) in Harrogate. The dwarves of the area fearing both the undead and invasion of barbarians had dug in deep. Orderly trenches and bunkers covered the landscape. Artillery in every field, barbed wire spooled out for miles. The dales were now a maginot line. If all the effort put into fortifying DwarfYorkshire had been used in the North the war might have been different. We drove through miles of fortifications. My ancestral home had always been a castle, except now it had cannons.

The greengrocer and navvie worked on interrogating the alchemist.

The alchemists were generally from not Holland and played both sides. Helping the necromancers and us. It was in their interest to do so as they sold arms to both sides. This one knew enough of metallurgy to be of some use.

The bard assisted the wizard and I in planning our next steps.

We would have to get into Edinburgh and get the soul cube (where the little girl was kept) back. Killing the necromancer we decided was, if not a priority, it should still be done on general principles.

I placed the stuffed purple penguin on the table. It, and us, looked over the map we had spread out.

We couldn't push up from Newcastle to the borders and on to Edinburgh, for one thing it would mean getting through the undead giants in Stirling. We couldn't sail up the west coast and round (Irish barbarians) and we would never survive the east coast, the great kraken and other monsters that had been summoned by the necromancers would rip apart any ship spotted from land without the appropriate magical wards.

We considered going up north through the highlands and back down.

The Grocer (Angus) ran into the room. The alchemists were making a shipment to the Welsh barbarians tonight.

We looked at each other. Those boats had the wards. But the alchemists were not our allies they were neutral... sort of...

We looked at the penguin.

:"Lets get ourselves a ship."

We left in a hurry, moving on to Liverpool, as we were chartered by the Queen (being sort of like 40K acolytes) we had no trouble obtaining the assistance of a royal navy destroyer. HMS Thunderchild (yes that one). With the bard standing on the prow, playing AC/DCs Thunderstruck on the bagpipes (no I don't know how he knew it either but the DM likes ACDC) we set sail. The Thunderchild looked like you'd think a destroyer would. The Alchemists ship when we found her did not. It was a floating nautilus, and fucking huge.

I racked the slide on my newly acquired gatling shotgun, the navvie hefted his hammer, the wizard summoned rotary saws, Angus lit the pilot light on that flamethrower. The bard just... did bard stuff and played on.

The captain of the Thunderchild was the best of men. Guns would break the shell of the nautilus and sink her. So we rammed it.

The party boarded, so did the stuffed purple penguin.

The fight was short, gory as all hell too, the alchemists being shot, burnt, sawn, hammered, and bagpiped to death.

We had our boat. Or at least large living seabeast

We had no idea how to steer this beast. After a great deal of head scratching, the bard discovered it liked the bagpipes. It would swim in the direction of the sound. If he stood in a rowing boat and played it would follow along behind. It wasn't going to be fast, but we could travel.

Meanwhile the Navvie and I investigated the cargo hold.

It glowed. Weaponized soul cubes. Each containing a tortured soul of a deceased man woman or child. They had been turned into grenades or artillery shells. It was silent in that hold, but it was also full of the sound of screaming.

It was another moral dilemma. Do we release these souls? Or do we us them? The Navvies niece was in something like these...

That great hammer rose and fell. With a smash the first soul was released, then another, and another.

I was concerned though. Even if we saved her, where would we put her? What could we do?

I approached the Wizard, he could perhaps build a mechanical body? Some design or contrivance to carrier her essence? Maybe to give her some sort of life?

The answer was (after discussing and rolling) yes sort of. He said he'd have to think, to design. The DM passed him several notes. This was a very bad sign.

We were on the west coast now. The Thunderchild accompanied us as far as Wick but could go no further in these waters. We stopped off for a session or two in this area, fighting a horde of mutated kelpies and also Sawney Bean the cannibal and his insane brood. This was awesome but not relevant to our quest. (I am willing to digress however if requested)

:>Yes.

Alright then. The kelpie. (I trust everyone reading knows how to use Google)

We nearly lost Angus here. The kelpie would shapeshift, not just into their usual forms, but they could transform to those you loved, anything to get you into the water so they could drown and consume you.

We first became aware of how shafted we were when I woke up to see my daughter crawling up the side of my bed. She'd been dead for fifty years.
Shooting her hurt as much as the sound of the first spadeful of earth hitting the lid of her coffin.

We couldn't move fast enough to escape them (not with the bard piping in the rowing boat), we had to stop. To kill every single last one.

We shot our mothers, burned our grandfathers, stabbed our brothers, chainsawed our wives, bludgeoned our sons, and still they kept coming.

Telling us twisted truths, secrets that we knew were untrue but with enough to make your finger twitch, your aim unsteady, my daughter told me she had killed herself. The others were all equally and savagely unloved, Angus failed his will save, the kelpie (and his wife) separating him from us, leading him to the water.

It took the Navvie's hammer crushing her skull against the deck until Angus started screaming. We had to knock him out. When the kelpies were all dead, we waited for him to wake, when he did, we poured whisky into him until he stopped screaming her name.

The purple penguin and I had some ourselves that night too.

We sailed on. Reaching first Aberdeen (and our wizards home) we stopped off in this fascinating place. The walled city extended to Westhill, north to bridge of Don, and south to Stonehaven, it was a haven of industry and techno wizardry. The Aberdonians could summon machinery and twist steel to their will. The court intrigue we became involved in as we refueled (fed) our mollusc was short but bloody.

It was my turn to risk death. My moment of weakness. I fell in love.

Aberdeen was ruled by seven great families, each with a special affinity for a metal, (iron, gold, silver, copper etc) the wizard was clan iron, and his family had intended for him to be "alloyed" with a girl from the gold clan. He had left the city to win his fortune for her first. She was thrilled to see him. Meanwhile I and the rest of the party ignored the sex he was busily having and instead (I should add we looked everything up on Google maps and just pretended we were there) I went into the merchant quarter With the intention of upgrading my weapons. The rest of the party tagged along for the same reasons.

The DM passes me a note.
:>you notice a woman. Tall, redhaired, statueesque you see her in the crowd. Just a moment. She smiles at you. The DM knows I love tall redheads.
:"Roll twice" yup you're in love. Congrats.

I followed her into the churchyard, there she was beneath a tree, we talked, she stroked my beard, we kissed. We left, together. It meant I wasn't with everyone else when they discovered that the lead clan were going to sell out the city, or that the copper clan (her clan) were involved.

I should tell you a little about the DM at this stage.

:>he's a cunt.

So I'm in love. The others discover that the Lead clan are going to open the gates to the undead, and the copper clan are mostly vampires. On the reasoning that I'm busy having sex, they don't mention this.

However the redhead is human, all human. Her boyfriend isn't. He also does not like discovering her straddling an angry and well armed dwarf.

He goes for me. I get shots into him. But not before he tears my left arm off. He tries to beat me to death with it. Eventually he goes down. So do I.

I wake up with a new mechanical arm, and I'm single again.

Meanwhile the party are doing intriguey things and while I learn how my new arm works, they plot and investigate.

We discover they are on to us when my newly vamprisied redhead kicks in the door along with a dozen of her friends and technowizards.

We fight. We win. Just. I am not as accurate as I was. The bard loses an eye to her claws. I resolve to practice more with my new arm.

We bring down the lead clan by killing a family patriarch and then at the funeral, Angus torches the lot of them inside a church. It wasn't pretty but it worked.

So we say goodbye to Aberdeen and sail on. We get to Montrose and stop for water. The place is deathly quiet. There's no one. We decide to refill and GTFO. Except the navvie that brave, big hearted bastard says no. We should help. The purple penguin agrees.

We scout around. We don't find anything except skeletons.

We do find some townsfolk eventually. They are terrified of "the eaters" we laugh it off. We say we will stay the night and then take them back to Aberdeen

So the Navvie and I are on first watch. He spots them first. I am busy lighting my pipe.

Cockroaches, beetles, maggots, everything, a river of them. They flow and squirm toward us. They coalesce into a man. Sawney Bean. Bullets do nothing. The hammer doesn't do much. The bagpipes are bagpipes. We do have Angus however. Sawney burns good. He flees.

Meanwhile the rest of his cannibal family have broken into the church. They've eaten alive those townsfolk. There's half a woman left (and I mean half vertically) but she's still alive... somehow (they hadn't eaten the brain, just stripped her clean down to the bone on the left side of her navel. I mean everything.

We killed her ourselves (fuck you DM) and decided Sawney must die.

We don't know where he is, where he lives, nothing. There's no tracks to follow, and how would we track a beetle anyway?

We think. We plot. We are out of ideas.

We realize though, the country side is stripped bare, the town is too. The only meat around for miles is... us. So we head into the village square and just sit and wait. We know they're probably watching anyway. Angus has his flamethrower, the wizard makes me flame shells, the bard is the bard. Both the Navvie and the wizard will use their respective skills (techno wizardry and being hueg) to roll flaming barrels of whale oil into them.

It all goes to plan. Mostly.

There's a big statue in the square. It has steps. We have our backs to it. And here comes Sawney (I hate bugs), he and his weird family charge us. Or at least half do. The rest try to get behind us. The navvie and wizard hurl flaming barrels. Angus does his thing. I turn the flaming gatling shotgun on the flankers. The bard... does nothing useful being a bard and plays flower of Scotland Instead.

Thing is, Sawney and co are getting closer faster than we can burn them.

:"This might be it lads, I'm sorry penguin, we might have failed you..."

They start climbing the steps. They're much more material now. Almost solid. Human. The navvie stoves in the lid of a barrel with his fist. He grabs Sawney by the throat and rams him into it. The bugs that make up Sawney eat his hand clean and the fire does for his arm. But sawney burns good. With him down, his weird family are less organized and start to go down too.

Fuck you Sawney Bean.

The technowizard replaces the second arm in a week.

With Sawney and co dead. The quest of the purple penguin continued. We said goodbye to the fortified port of Aberdeen and soon the countryside grew blackened and blasted, the night sky was never dark, skulls and faces played in the northern lights, the Navvie had long conversations with himself. Skeletal fish swam in the sea. Skinless dolphins played in our bow waves. We entered the Firth of Forth. The sanctified ground of Inchgarvie island was we thought a safe place to rest, to prepare. We were wrong.

It turns out our landing on Inchgarvie was observed. We camp. No fire. But we manage to rest.

Then the dead start to rise. Walking out of the sea. Silent legions of them. While they aren't as coordinated as those of the big bad (the power of a necromancer determines how good his skeletons are at fighting) they are still tough. A minor necromancer must be wanting to take us down himself. Thing is, if we open fire, we'll bring everything in the region down on us. We can't let that happen now. Not right now.

So we set about ourselves, hammer, my axe, the wizard with iron bars, Angus with his knife and the bard... I think he hummed rather than piped.

Gliding in over the waves came the necromancer controlling these skellies. He was actually quite helpful all things considered.

:"You'll never get what you seek. you'll never make it to Edinburgh castle. You'll nev *HAMMERTOTHEFACE*"
:"Thank you, you pathetic excuse for a knobdusting emaciated necrophiliac. Now we know where she is."

We proceed inland with the dawn. Leaving our trusty nautilus at Inchgarvie. Stealth is the order of the day. We slink through the country side as best we can. Most of it is glassed. As though a nuclear bomb had gone off. No vegetation. Only death. The glass is warm to the touch and slightly sticky.

There is no food. No shelter. Nothing. No sound. No birds. Nothing.

We make it to Edinburgh. The city is intact. Rebuilt so that upon each hill is a necromancers tower. Green glowing energy emanating from each. We look up. There's the castle. We know what the purple penguin expects of us.

The castle is the only tower without that green light. The wizard tells us it is because the others are locked in a ritual. Only the big bad and our target is not. Meaning we only have one opponent. And several million of his minions.

We get into the city via the sewers and a twenty minute OOC debate on how clean they would be (undead don't poop). We get to where Waverly station would be. We are able (thanks to technowizard) to ascend the cliff and get over the wall. We go loud when Angus takes an arrow to the shoulder. Suddenly skeletons. Skeletons everywhere. The bard finally has an idea.
:"This is Edinburgh castle. They have an artillery piece here they use to shoot every day to mark the time. We have several necromancers stuck in a ritual who can't move And have green fire telling us where they are."

This is the most useful thing the player and character have ever done.

We make for the gun. Technowizard aims loads and fires. We fight and fight on. Covering him as we end the necromantic menace (DM looks unhappy as we crush his campaign). The purple penguin approves.

We fight on atop the battlements, green fire flashing in the darkness as the wizard brings down tower after tower. The hammer smashing skeletons. The gatling shotgun annihilating skellies, the bard goes back to being useless but does manage to play Queen's princes of the universe on a natural 20. Angus burns the skellies. This is the most metal moment of my life. The stuffed purple penguin agrees and says we must rock harder.

The necromancer comes, his belt is full of soul cubes. They're powering him. One goes dark and he tosses it aside even as we watch. We don't know which is her. We don't know if she's even in there. The purple penguin demands he die.

He draws his arms up. The skeletons we have slain come together again, forming a giant creature, the Navvie leaps from the battlements. Hammer held high. Angus plays fire across the giant. I do my best to tickle it with eight solid slugs a second, the techowizard turns the gun. Slowly, the Navvie hangs in mid air as the necromancer zaps magic at him.

Our wizard fires the gun. Down goes giant. The Navvie is getting closer to the necromancer. By sheer force of will he is resisting the magic and continuing his path. He lands cracking a flagstone. The hammer goes up. The hammer comes down. The necromancer laughs and inhales a soulcube.
:"These are why you came, this is what you want. She's not here. I ate her weeks ago. She was delicious."
The hammer goes up.
:"You'll never get her back"
the hammer comes down.

We realize he's right. Even as we bring down his empire. He is right. This was all for nothing. This was...

:>FUCKINGCOCKDABBLINGARSEMONGLER
The navvie hits him again, and again,
:>SHITSPEWINGCUNTSPELUNKER
The necromancers skull turns to dust. The legions of skeletons fall to the earth.

One soul cube left. It's... it flickers... just... still life in it. The Navview picks it up.
:"Uncle?"
It flickers.
:"I'm here. I'm here now."
I put her penguin next to it.
:"I knew you'd come..."

The light goes out.

===The Battleship Brunmiggi===
We left the now silent ruin of Edinburgh. We were victorious... weren't we? The necromancers had been broken. Some would remain, but the threat in the North was over. For now. it still felt like a loss. A shameful filthy loss. I couldn't meet the eye of the purple Penguin.

We moved on. Sailing the Nautillus from Inchgarvie back first to Newcastle (the shell torn industrial country still burning. The locals working for drink to forget the work they must do. Rendering down the undead armies or the remains of them into magical components for the artillery, smelting rusted swords down for bullets. Tearing apart their once great city for total war). There we met Cruella with a letter from our Queene.

So the wizard, Angus, the Navvie, Bagpipe bard, and I were joined by Cruella (yes I know) of the same species as our Queene, a faerie. Long of limb, beautiful, and fueled by the blood of our enemies. She had two long knives which she used to maim. She had bonuses the more cruel she was to her prey.

I'm afraid we shouldn't have let her character in but
:>muh fetish.

The Brunnmigi had been spotted off the South coast. We were to sink it.

The Brunnmigi (Google it) was the pride of the Kaisers fleet. A battleship of enormous power, row after row of guns, pure industrial might. Crewed by the Kaisers elite bearmen. It could sink a dozen ships before they even got in range.

We had a fight on our hands.

We had an unexpected surprise however. At Portsmouth we were met by the Thunderchild. A destroyer. Nothing on the Brunnmigi but crewed by the stoutest most valiant of men.

Once again. The bard went to the prow As we set sail. (Don't ask) but we left Portsmouth dock to his rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrds Simple Man (DM again).
We knew the brunnmigi was moored off Jeresy. The Kaiser wanted those islands and was using the ship as a show of force. What better thing to occur then for it to sink in British waters.

We would be dropped off the coast of Jersey, travel overland and sneak aboard.

It all went perfectly. We lowered a boat. Then suddenly the deafening scream of the attack siren aboard the Brunnmigi sounded. She knew the Thunderchild was here. There was no running for the Thubderchild. There was never any question of running.

We rowed ashore as that little ship. Outclassed by twenty times in tonnage alone. She turned. She made straight for the Brunnmigi.

Never a question as shellfire hammered that brave little ship. The aft turret was hit first. Then taken amidships. Fire licked up the funnels. The bridge was next. Still she carried on. Fire from the fore turret rebounded from the flanks of the Brunnmigi.

The Thunderchild was low in the water. None could be left alive, but she came on. She rammed the Brunnmigi on the portside.

We didn't think she even scratched the paint. The proud ensign of Her Majesties royal navy was the last thing to slip below the waves as we watched from the shore. (Fuck you DM)

The people of Jersey were honest hobbit types. We were taken in by a farmer loyal to the Queene, but we were not unnoticed. The party was woken by the barn doors being kicked in.

Brunnmann. A party of twenty marines from the Brunmigi. Each huge bear given the form of man. We could stand against them. We could. But it was likely to cost us.

They had hostages. The farmer and his family. So small against their black uniformed bodies.

We couldn't fight. We shouldn't fight.

I laid down my shotgun. It was joined by hammer, flamethrower, knives, and bagpipes. The wizard laid down his backup revolver. No one else saw him wink at me.

The marines chained us. Binding our wrists and ankles with cold iron. No magic could effect those locks.

The wizard was of the iron clan. With complete mastery of steel. He practiced no magic. He did however bend metal to his will.

The hobbits were released. Watching us go sadly. The farmer sung Gods Save the Queen until one marine cuffed him.

It was the distraction we needed however. The wizard brought up the bayonets of each marine. All twenty lay dead. His own bayonet through his throat. The chains fell away.

The wizard collapses. He would not be able to do that again for some time.

We have a large pile of corpses. We suddenly realize that had we been taken aboard ''then'' broken free that might have been smart.

Nonetheless we proceed across Jersey, taking the truck that the marines had used. We come from Les Mellies to St Hellier. We wait for nightfall in a derelict warehouse. The new plan is simple. Wait for the wizard to recover then sneak aboard.

At least that was the plan.

Cruella was to take down the sentries on the gangplank. Then she and the wizard would find the magazine. Meanwhile the rest of us had the easy bit. Raise all hell on the bridge. Kill as many as we could then leave gtfo.

Cruella gutted one bear, licking blood from her knife then decapitated the other from behind.

We were aboard.

We split up and make for the bridge. The bard signals our attack with Motorhead's Ace of Spades on the bagpipes again.

He starts to play outside the entrance to the bridge. The bears run straight into Angus and his flamethrower. Those that survive meet the shotgun.

We have taken the bridge. There is no sign of the captain however. We estimate we have about two minutes before they counterattack. We have agreed the bard will play a song when that time comes and another when we bug out. It's Steve Earle's copperhead road that comes as the bears swarm our defenses.

Meanwhile, Cruella and the wizard are in the magazine. Stacking shells. The wizard priming timers. They give us five minutes. Firing a flare as they jump from the rear deck into the sea. None of us on the bridge roll high enough to see it.

Time is ticking down and we don't even know.

The bard stops playing eventually. We don't know it but we have maybe two minutes left.

The ship is crewed mostly by bears. Except the captain. The captain is a fucking gryphon with a pickelhaube. In he comes with the rest of the marines.

Time is running out. Then it runs out. The bears are all dead. Only us and the bloodied captain still standing. He is an enormous winged gryphon.

The explosions from the magazine rock the ship. We are screwed, shells cook off. The small dent in the hull from the Thunderchild now becomes a gaping hole. The ship is taking on water. We are either going to burn or drown.

We look at the captain. He looks at us. We nod. He nods.

Seen from where Cruella and the wizard are (on shore now).

The explosions rock the ship. The smoke and flame obscures so much. The ship lists heavily to one side.

As far as they know. We're dead. The purple penguin no more.

Then the glass of the bridge shatters. A dwarf, an orc, a navvie, and a bard are on the back of a howling gryphon.

The bard plays the song we agreed.

It's Meatloaf. Bat out of hell.

The Captain should have gone down with his ship. Instead he was given a pardon and allowed to stay in Britain. He later joined our navy.

We returned to London to report our success.

We were a bit surprised when the Queene had us imprisoned on our arrival.

===The Court of the Faerie Queene===
Ok so before I launch into this properly there are some things you need to know. If you've ever read or heard of Edmund Spenser's Faerie Queene (it is not as gay as it sounds) you'll be fine. If you haven't, what you need to know is that royalty in Britbongsteros are all faeires. We've mentioned already that this means they're vicious, cruel, capricious, and very childish at times. Now we have a Queene who for reasons of her choice to remain "virgin" and not produce heirs, has pissed off a lot of people. It got worse when she banged a French Elf (because then we'd have French Elves on the throne) and so the other nobles had said French Elf killed.
She then took a demon succubus as a lover. More people were pissed off but at least no French Elves.

Her court is a place where there is great wealthy, silk, gold, pearls, diamonds, and blood. Lots of blood.

We are imprisoned almost as soon as we arrive in London. We aren't told the charges, just surrounded by royal guards (automatons built by Sir Issac Newton the century before) and reluctantly we lower our arms.

We are taken to the cells beneath the Old Bailey. Cruella is removed from the party at this point. We are not told why (Fuck you DM and your notes).

Escape is out of the question. The Mistress we serve is scarier than anything we've faced so far.

Finally, we are (after the Navvie and I beat up several prisoners), we five are lead into court. We still have the Purple Penguin.

It turns out that as our resident Faerie, Cruella is to be our defense counsel.

The charge?

:Killing the little girl.

The evidence?

:One stuffed purple penguin

The penalty?

:Death.

Oh shit.

We are lead before the judge. Regrettably because of my actual day job I try not to cringe too much as the DM makes a hash of Criminal Procedure, but I'll stick with his version.

The charges are read to us, and the prosecution set out the case against us. We maliciously by our own omission failed to save the hamlet (from the original post). We deviated from our mission. We allowed the Thunderchild to be sunk.

Cruella manages to have our sentences cut to *just* death.

:''>Fuck you DM''

We're a little pissed at this point.

We are to be hung in the morning.

We spend our last night in the cells.

We are woken by torches in the corridor. Hushed footsteps.
It's Cruella, and not just Cruella, but the Queene.

:"Hello boys."
:"The good news is, you're not going to die. Yet. I've had five criminals "agree" to take your place. People are very amenable when I eat their children I find. Very strange."
She flashes her serrated shark like teeth.
:"I have plans for you, and we need my enemies to think you're dead. Do you agree boys? Or of course you could just stay here."
We agree.

We know what's coming. Or we thought we did. We'd all be thought dead. Then we'd be able to kill some noble or end some plot.

It did not occur to this dwarf that there was a very good reason the Queene was still in power. She was about the scariest thing in the setting.

No, what the Queene needed of us was far worse.

She wanted an excuse to wipe out a noble house.

We were to invent a plot. Then pin it on the other house.

The penguin did not approve of this. He approved even less when we discovered which house.

The third wealthiest, and by far the most philanthropic in the country. Faeries were all fucking horrible, but this house at least weren't that bad... really... it was the difference between being a free range chicken and a battery chicken.

They were a mediating influence on the other houses.

This was not good.

Our first thing to do was agree enough with this psycho bitch to get out of jail.

Of course she knew exactly what that was about.
:"I'll be sending Cruella along with you of course, as my observer" (Cruella's player smirks) "and she'll tell me every little thing that happens, and don't even think about coming back without her..."

We agree. We are given our gear back, and ushered out of the city in a covered wagon. We are somewhere on Cruella's estate in Kent when we start to plan.

We need to do the following:
:1. Not die.
:2. Keep the Queene happy.
:3. Not let the Dansons (the nice - relatively) Faeries be wiped out.
:4. Not die.

2 and 3 appear to be mutually exclusive however.

The discussion in character took about an hour so I'll summarize.

:Cruella: sits in the corner idly ripping the legs off mice and eating them bit by bit. (Fuck Faeries).
:Navvie: Save the nice people.
:Angus: Lets not die
:Wizard: Kill them and then we won't have to die.
:Bard: Mostly noodles - [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSWsLADAYSw Sabbath's Planet Caravan] (no I don't know how you play it on the bagpipes either)
:Me: Can we do all of the above? Not die, kill them, but also not kill them?

More thinking occurs. Cruella is feigning disinterest.

What the Queene really wants isn't the Dansons dead. She wants their lands. If they're all dead or traitors then the land and money go to her as the reigning monarch. So really the Queene wants cash.

:Can we conceivably get her a large pile of money quickly?
:No. Not Danson large.
:Could we just get them exiled?
:No. Some of their lands are overseas. The Queene will want them too.
:Do we have to kill all of them?
:(Fuck you DM) Yes. I think we do.

Cruella is beaming like the cat that just got given the deeds to a cream factory.

The bard is playing (the actually quite fitting) [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cP1xwJLPWRE Court of the Crimson King - Saxon version]

Then suddenly he stops.
:"What if... what if we persuaded the Dansons to, in exchange for their lives, pay the Queene an amount each year, so that in five years, she gets even more than she would have?"
The Bard player occasionally is quite useful.
:"But how will they get the money together? They'd need to be making even more money that they have now? All their cash is tied up in land anyway."
:Angus: Lets just fucking kill them. (I should add that Angus's full name was Angus, McAngus, of the Clan McAngus, from Anguston)
:"So we're stuck then. We kill them, or we get killed?"
:"Pretty much"
The purple penguin is not pleased by this.
:"How many Dansons are there?"
Cruella pipes up
:"Three left. An old Dowager, a young maiden, and a knight."

I feel a plan coming on.

So what followed from this discussion was a lot of scouting, sneaking, research, it took about a week of time in game.

We established the following:

The Dowager was in rude and excellent health. She also had an excellent right hook. Laying Angus out cold when she found him in her flower beds. She spent all her time running a hospital for sick and injured ex-servicemen.

The maiden assisted in this. The maiden was also in love with one of the Queen's favourites. That could be awkward.

The Knight was eager now that the necromancers of the north were ended as a threat to crusade into the wilds of North America.

What we did was this.

Angus and Cruella took the dowager. They had her donate her share of the family fortune to the hospital. This made the Queene look bad. Except for one thing. Other nobles started to match the donation. Not wanting to be seen to be ignoring the poor. The Queene then won a massive PR victory in creating the "Thunderchild Memorial Hospital for the Heroes of the Nothern Campaign."
She was immensely pleased with this.

The knight she agreed to fund an expedition for. He would sign over his lands until he came back, and if he did, what he found was hers. The Navvie and the Wizard were able to organise this.

That left me, and the maiden.

So DM wants to give us all little solo missions. You already know how the rest of the party got on. I can give you a little more detail on mine.

We know the maiden loves one of the Queene's favourites. Thing is. We didn't know if he loved her back.

We also didn't know how the Queene would react to one of her favourite boy toys shacking up with some younger woman. Like the original Elizabeth I, we expected it to be pretty badly.

After discussing it, we decided two things had to occur. The favourite had to either fall in love with her, or man the fuck up and do it.

Secondly, we had to get the approval of the Queene.

So. I'm left to my own devices to resolve these. I am not a social character. I do plans. I do leadership well. I shoot things. That's about it.

:''>The favourite: Baron Harcourt, another Faerie.''

The Baron likes two things. Hunting and fucking.

Obviously I can't really do the second (or don't want to), but I can get involved in the first.

I get invited along (with a little help from Cruella) on one of his hunts. It's a hunt for a great English Wildcat - the beast of bodmin moor in fact (google it).

He would obviously view my shotgun as unsporting (and it won't leave much of the beast left), so I am given (by the huntmaster whom Cruella knew) a halbred.

:''>What the fuck do I do with this.jpg?''

There's two things I can do, I can try and watch him kill the thing, and maybe talk to him, or I can kill it, and definitely talk to him, but he might be a bit fucked off.

There can only be one option.

It turns out, that if you load a dwarven shotgun with very large flechettes, it looks a lot like you killed something with a halbred.

So I get the beast alone, (lucky rolls) and delete a large chunk of it with the gatlingshotgun (Bessie by the way). The Baron is actually quite impressed with my hunting skill (as I stand with the halbred, my doomcannon tactically hidden in a bush).

He invites me to dinner in his tent. This is going well I think.

Now a little note on Faerie speech here. It is very very very rude (like stabbed in the face rude) to come out and say something directly.

So there are many consume alcohol tests, I regale the Baron with tales of our adventures (much as we are here) including those of the Stuffed Purple Penguin, and the Baron is a little bit drunk.

I ask him,
:"My Lord, affairs of the heart are bothersome, but perhaps a man of your wisdom can assist me"
His ego inflates a little.
:"I have a good lady friend, and her love for another is under a great shadow."
He knows who I'm talking about. He asks
:"Who is the man?"
:"He is a fine strapping gentleman, of great estate, great munificence, and most of all wisdom."
The baron knows full well who I'm talking about. I also think mostly to prove a point he guts a retainer for spilling a little wine.

The baron is a lot more drunk than I thought. He stands.
:"Come! Let us ride to the maiden! I shall show her every inch of my love!"

:''>ohshit''

I now have to get this drunk posh fool persuaded that he won't get far with vomiting on her and then trying to put it in her pooper.
:"My lord, another drink to celebrate!"
:"YES!"
:"And to the great wisdom of the Baron!"
:"YES!"
:"And to the great wealth of the baron such as he would not need a dowry!"
:"YESWUT?"
:"And to the Queene!"
:"The Queene!"

(continue through many consume alcohol tests)

The baron finally passes out.

:''>the next day''

After a cold bath in the nearest stream and a breakfast of raw lamb (for him) bacon sandwich for me, we ride to the maiden. The very hungover baron proposes, and she accepts. The baron is too shy to mention dowrys.

:''>great success''

Now we just need the Queene on side. That shouldn't be hard.

Right?

Now to persuade the Queene that not only is there a good reason the relevant Danson isn't dead, but also that there is a good reason why they should be getting married.

:''>balls.''

She is fairly pleased with the PR and what happened with the knight (we waited a bit to tell her). So when we approach her as a party, to request that the baron be permitted to take a bride. She is fairly reasonable.

We find her bathing in the blood of virgin maidens. Because... y'know... faeries. (fucking Faeries). She has a small rubber duck.
:"Ah brave dwarf, what news bring you?"
:"We beg a favour my lady"
She listens.
:"Very well, but there is but one thing I want from thee before I acquiesce."
Wondering what this insane bitch could possibly want or need.
:"Dwarf you wear something upon your belt most unique."
Oh no.
:"My pouches Milday? My axe? My..."
:"No fool. The purple thing. Give it to me."
:"Milady surely we would not sully your court with such a child's toy, it is dirty, bloodspattered, your seamstresses could create such a fine recreation, golden stitching, eyes of..."
:"I. WANT. THAT. ONE."
(Fuck you DM).

The Navvie looks distinctly thunderous as we hand it over. (it's that or die right there and then).

So after retreating back to Harrogate (my Dorf Fortress) we decide that perhaps we really are not happy with how this country is being run.

We fight for a Queene that is... in all fairness, kind of a bitch.

We decide to begin research on taking her down, and most importantly. GET THE PENGUIN BACK.

So while we've discussed Scotland a fair bit. I've brushed over England. So as a reminder. The south is all peasants ruled over by very unpleasant Faeries (one of whom is in the party I might add) the north is half DwarfYorkshire and the other half working class humans (like the Navvie). We have various sundry populations like the halfings of Jersey and mythical bits and bobs here and there.

The Queene has those worryingly big automatons. We also know that the country is still being assaulted by the barbarians of wales and Ireland. We need to take her out and do it without a civil war.

The fact we've just given a huge pile of money to her war chest along with some very positive PR does not help.

Now, a little on the Royal family. There's the Queene, she hasn't produced much in the way of offspring (see above). There's also not much of her family left. In fact next in line to the throne is her bumbling and not terribly astute (but really quite nice) brother Algernon. After him, there's two half brothers who are both as bad as her.

The reason Algernon is still alive is an early warning system, in case one of the half brothers bumps him off with a view to killing the Queene.

Now if we simply kill the Queene, we might cause those two brothers to kill Algernon, and also put the nation into a state of civil war.

We need to kill Queene and both the half brothers.

and GET THE PENGUIN BACK.

So, we know we need to kill three of the greatest people in the land, and do it in a way that doesn't make it look like anything more than an accident.

That's gonna be tricky.

We think it'd look less suspicious if we went for the brothers first.

It'd be almost reasonable if they were to try and kill each other, in fact we're a bit surprised they haven't...
:Bard: ''"Hey that's not a bad idea guys..."''

Now, we know the brothers never meet, never see each other, they are never in the same place at the same time. They hate one another, so it makes things a little simpler.

The hard part is getting to them.

We take stock of our skills:

Thing is, it's actually not that hard to butcher people if you have a wizard that can control flying chainsaws. The hard part is getting him in range of something he can affect (or summon).

Then we have Angus. It's probably not going to be Angus.

The bard could...

...

NEXT

Cruella seems like the obvious choice. However she's linked to the Queene and very recognizable. That leaves me and the Navvie. Our special powers are gun and hueg respectively.

:''>Why did Cruella agree to the assassinations?''
:''>Her player and I were already dating as mentioned above - and thanks to /tg/ her and I got back together at Christmas. It was kinda taken as read that she switched alliances after the PCs also started banging.''

We consider our targets.

One, Balthus, is immensely fat, he loves food, and is always eating. We may have an in there.

The other is Carus, he loves books, painting, and torture. So he rarely leaves his dungeon, unless it's to paint on the battlements.

We go for Carus first.

We approach the castle of Carus. It's in Bath. A spa town, lovely place. His castle itself is beautiful, well decorated, well appointed, even the dungeons are the nicest this side of the channel.

He's also a sick bastard.

Now we learn (via the bard impressing the locals in the tavern with [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T65rW_SIzg0 Blue Oyster Cult, Godzilla]) that Carus has recently been painting sunsets.

Now if we had a snipah we could end this easily.

We don't.

More planning occurs.

Suggestions include:

Poisoned paints, a meteor strike, a cannon, metal plates in his shoes which the wizard takes over, summon Cthulu.

In the end, I bash a guard over the head. The Navvie nicks his uniform, and upends Carus over the battlements.

That was easy. Too easy...

Next up is Balthus.

Balthus lives in Knightsbridge. He is, as mentioned, an immense glutton. He is also involved with the British Museum. We decide to off him at one of the dinners. It's public, it's perfect. With a little help from Cruella, we grind up some metal splinters, very small, and add them to his soup.

About desert time (the 18th course) the wizard excites those splinters, one massive case of internal bleeding and unknown cause of death later, all we have left is Queenie.

Queenie we think must be onto us by now. She must know something is up. Both her brothers dying in explainable but mysterious circumstances a few days apart?

She has to know.

The question is, does she know it's us?

We hope not. We request an audience. We have to remove all suspicion from Algernon, so this has to be complicated, messy, and so not his style that it couldn't possibly have been him.

The plan is best kept secret. It makes a better story that way. We are brought into her chambers. As we bow obeisance before her bathtub (blood again) the bard offers to play her a song. Queenie is delighted.

The song is [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cUAflfhIqw The Godfather Theme - Guns and Roses (Slash guitar solo) Instrumentals].

Queenie loves it. We amuse her as a distraction. The bard plays on. Angus sets parts of himself alight (she finds this wonderful) and the Navvie lifts the tub with her in it as a feat of strength. Meanwhile as the wizard juggles chainsaws, he plants a bomb. Cruella replaces her face cream with acid (and also the detonator) and I snag a small purple object. We leave when she is bored of us.

There is a scream then a bang.
We make for France. We miss the coronation of King Algernon, but we also are alive.

===Britbongsteros visits France===
After assainating the Queene we were in a slightly awkward position legally and generally. Admittedly it was unlikely that we had this pinned on us (technically we were still dead and it was a secret audience in her chambers, Algernon was unlikely to give a shit anyway) but we figured we should probably lie low. We had enough in the way of funds to live more than comfortably in Paris for a couple months and it was easy enough to hop on the next boat across the channel.

France as previously mentioned was elves. All elves. And they were French.

So naturally we set up camp in a Parisian whorehouse. Because what else do you do in Paris?

I was safely taken though (and if your girlfriend is like Cruellas Player you don't do anything silly) the rest of the boys quickly acquired favourites among the whores and we passed a very pleasant week drinking, eating, whoring and drinking more.

We didn't do much until people started turning up dead.

Even elves had peasants and local virgins had been turning up exsanguinated. This is where we met our one and only 'Murican. He was a vampire hunter and from Nuuw Yaaawk. As mentioned previously those in that region had to eat constantly to sustain their magical metabolism. So they were immensely strong and tough, but also immensely fat. He would have a crossbow in one hand and a bag of whole fried chickens in the other.

(Sorry America)

Anyway so he barges into the whorehouse and I do mean into. He leaves a 'murican shaped hole in the wall.

The party fumbles for weapons as he shouts
:"I need your" munch munch scromnomnom "help!"

The bard launches into Team America's America Fuck Yeah for no particular reason as he explains that he needs our help. He can't identify the problem and people are dying all the time.

Our first priority is to get paid. There is almost unanimous agreement. We consider the poor peasants. Downtrodden by the local aristocracy, French, and now being eaten.

We feel a bit bad. The purple Penguin reminds us of our duties.

Our new friend tosses a bag of money on the table. Resolving the issue.

Now our DM, about a month before, had asked us all to write down our fears. Not our characters fears. But ours.

If I recall rightly the list was:
:Angus: failure.
:Cruella: clowns
:Navvie: Leeches
:Me: snakes (because indy! Also fuck telling our cunt of a dm what it was)
:Wizard: spiders
:Bard: heights and confined spaces.

The purple penguin doesn't join in because it fears nothing.

:''>fear''
So we get a lead. The last victim was seen being dragged into the catacombs of Paris. (Google it. It's a giant mausoleum of skeletons, I'm serious).

So that sounds good...

The catacombs extend for miles and miles of bones, unmapped, untrodden, home to gods knows what.

The 'Murican suggests he takes one entrance, we take another and see what we find.

We tentatively agree.

So we are heading into the dark. Armed as normal with gas lamps as well. We're already lost after about five minutes. The DM is playing a YouTube clip of what I can only describe as "howling cave noises"
:''>roll for initiative''
We do. Nothing happens. Huh?
:''>a few minutes later, roll again''
Nothing happens. This is probably bad.
:''>roll again''
Ah excellent. Something drops from the ceiling. It's fast. It slithers, it has loads of teeth, it has a tail, it honks, and it escapes from our fire/shot/bagpipe/knife/hammer/chainsaw attack through a tiny little hole in the wall.

I am having good feels. We start finding drained corpses of children and teens shortly after. Then the Murican has been drained dry. His once huge body now like an empty chip wrapper.

It's about now we started hearing slithering and squelching and honking just out of range of the gaslight. Just out of sight. That fucking clown honk was the worst. Sometimes from above. Sometimes below. DM had the cave noise down low and the clown honk stupid loud. Cruella's player is edging closer to me. Everyone is on edge. Except Angus who is nipping from his hip flask.

So to recap we are lost, it's dark, and surrounded by fuck knows what.
We are not just in caves but caves literally full of skeletons.
:''>this is going great''
Retracing our steps isn't going to work (lost), we can sit here and wait for the fuel to run out on the lanterns, we can push on maybe getting more lost.

We decide to push on. Critters all around us in the dark. Just on the edge of vision.

As we enter a larger cavern they rush us from all sides, again the same rush of nightmarish images, fangs, claws, teeth, black segmented bodies, the sound of grinding slithering and honking.

We must kill some, we take damage, cookie cutter like chunks taken from exposed flesh.

Suddenly we remember what the DM did with that list of fears.

Snake-spider-clown-leeches-in confined spaces.

Shit.

When they vanish, all that's left is green ichor on the ground and rapidly decomposing hunks of what might be black leather. It's impossible to tell exactly what these things look like or how we'll get back to the light and whores of elf Paris.

We push on. Running low on ammo, the wizard low on mana (basically it recharged a bit per round and each spell/action had a cost + DM fiat). The Navvie is injured, Cruella is (like her player) freaking the fuck out (yes my waifu hates clowns). We start finding eggs. Big ones. The navvy smashes each as we go. We come under attack again.

From up ahead there is an earth shattering honk and the sound of rushing water.

It's the queen. There is light filtering through the ceiling, a grate. The floor is littered with corpses and eggs. She's huge. Thirty feet or more of our worst fears. Half snake, half spider, half leech, and with a bright red nose. (That should be funny. It made it much worse)

We engage. The rotary shotgun chewing into HP. The bard fires into Warren Zevons lawyers guns and money, the navvie dives into a pile of smaller deathleeches, Angus just torches everything, Cruella vanishes.

She reappears atop the thing. She uses knife after knife stab to climb up it. She fumbles. Falls. And the maw comes down.

She's gone.

The penguin begs us to fight on.

Now there are certain things fa/tg/uys love. Dice, children, food, and women. Especially ones that play with them.

Cruella and her player had become a group favourite. Having her arbitrarily eaten seemed so cruel, a random act of the dice that made those neckbeards sad.

Our efforts redoubled. Bits of deathleechsnakeclownthing flying in all directions.

Then the queen stops, gulps,

:''>Cruella, roll some dice please''

The queen's gullet splits open. A slender arm holding a wickedly serrated blade sticks out. The queen falls. Cruella squelched her way our. Her normally elaborately made up self, her hair never out of place, well now she's drenched from head to toe in green slime and looks oh so pleased about it.

Angus torches the bodies. Cruella does her best to clean slime off herself. The rest of us bind wounds. The bard plays
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEF8aBxvyt8 Don't Come Lookin].

Meanwhile, the Navvie and I find some stairs. We ascend. A barred door, and a smell, a very familiar smell.

Garlic.

:''>Garlic?''
Garlic.

Why should that be familiar? Because France. Duh.

We break down the door and ascend more stairs, eventually we come to a very worried looking priest. He's surrounded by clove after clove of garlic.

:"Le power of Christ compels you!"
He splashes us with holy water, Cruella is glad to use it to get some more gunk off.
:"You're... you're not demons?"
:"Unless you tell us what that thing was, we're your worst nightmare padre."

The Padre explains he was hoping to exorcise the clownleeches himself (good luck), but we are happy to return with him to the whorehouse (he doesn't seem to mind going in either). Turns out we are somewhere near the river seine when we get back to street level. (The sound of rushing water being the river)

We ask the padre about the leeches.

The leeches (the padre tells us) have been appearing slowly for months. What we just killed was not the only queen. He believes someone is feeding them. Bringing food (I.e. people) to them and somehow corrupting them to grow and mutate. He suspects two people.

The local mysterious Warlock (for obvious reasons) and concerningly the head of the Bishop of the other local faith. (Imagine we are talking to a Catholic and he suspects the local protestant).

So. Naturally expecting DM to have expected us to go for the warlock first, and then expecting that he'd expect us to do that, and expecting that he'd expect us to expect him to expect us doing that. We triple bluffed and went for the warlock.

Navvie and I perform surveillance as labourers near his tower. Cruella and bard go to local taverns for gossip. Angus is on a mini quest to upgrade his flamethrower with the wizard (more on that later). We meet back later In tavern so as to compare notes.

We have discovered that the Warlock is receiving large shipments of slaves. Especially female and young. Sounds like our target.

We collect Angus and his upgraded flamethrower and go full murderhobo.

The enchanted door locks don't do much to resist dwarven solid shot. A good boot later and we are in the den of the warlock.

As the doors fall. I shout
:"BY ENGLAND AND ST GEORGE WE ARE HERE TO FUCK YOU UP FROGGY"

Adrenaline pumping. Pipes skirling (Saxons Crusader). We are ready for this. The purple penguin abides.

The Warlock looks up over his book. So does the class of female slaves he is teaching medicine to so he can free them to become midwives as this country has terrible pre and antenatal care.

Sheepishly we retreat.

Fuck you DM

Ok. Take 2.

The bishop lives in (amazingly enough) the cathedral. Or at least the manse near it. What cathedral? Notre fucking dam of course.

We decide we need to be a bit more tactful this time and actually do some research.

This time, Cruella and I join the congregation for a service. Angus and Navvie sneak in the back, (yes Angus can be quite sneaky despite being an orc with a flamethrower strapped to him), and the wizard and bard stay outside to see what they can see. We plan to meet back in the street after the service.

The service is bretty gud actually, lots of love your fellow man, do unto others etc, and Cruella and I meet Wizard and Bard back in the street.

We wait for Angus and Navvie. We wait some more (DM has been passing notes).

We see smoke rising from a manhole. That's probably not good...

One wizard crowbar later and we're in the sewers. I realize I have no shotgun (it being a bit less than subtle to carry into a church). Cruella is basically a Dark Eldar Wych wearing clothes so she's fine, as are wizard and bard.

I do have a revolver however, and Wizard lends me his spare one.

The Penguin says lead on!

We pelt through the sewers, moving as quickly as we can without falling in, following the smoke and soon the FWOOSH and hammering.

I did mention that Angus had had something done to his flamethrower right?

What I didn't mention was that he'd had the option of using it as a THERMAL LANCE installed.

So as we round a corner expecting who knows what, we're greeted by the Navvie and Angus back to back, smashing and slicing to bits a pack of clownmurderleech things.
:"Looks like we're in the right place then" adds the wizard as we get stuck in.

The leeches don't last long against the full party. Angus fills us in. Turns out they found a grate in the stables and decided to have a look. They've been fighting leeches almost ever since. Seems like we're in the right place.

We decide to head the way most of the leeches came from; heading east and away from Notre Dam, we run into more leeches, but just enough to let us know we're probably heading the right way.

We start to hear chanting up ahead. That sure seems good.

Advancing slowly, there's a circle of cultists, they force a brightly glowing green fluid into a woman's mouth, (and I mean a lot of it). They draw symbols across her exposed belly (which is now glowing green too) and suspend her over a pit.

They probably aren't up to anything good so we dispense with hello and go straight Bad Company's Bad Company and do what we do best.

The cultists aren't a match for us, but there sure are a lot of them, the cult leader lets his hood fall back. It's the fucking Padre. The one we saw first. He raises his arms and chants all the louder.

From the pit emerges what is basically the Dune Worm version of the murder leeches we've been fighting. It gulps down the poor sacrifice and most of the scaffold she was suspended from.

I relax my shoulders, drop into a shooters stance, and dammit I'm gonna do it right. I look it straight into what are probably it's eyes and say,
:"BY ENGLAND AND ST GEORGE WE ARE HERE TO FUCK YOU UP WORMY"

Now the death worm? Mega worm? Huegworm? That thing.

It doesn't take kindly to being shot. I'm trying to go for anything that looks like a weakspot. Each round from the revolver a hefty lead dum-dum round, it should be blowing great chunks in it. They are. It's not slowing down.

Cruella goes for the Padre.

Angus runs in, and starts carving holes in it, taking off a leg here, a ravening tentacle thing there,

The Wizard does his thing, sawblades whizz over my head, streaking down its flanks.

The Purple Penguin attempts to out stare it.

The Navvie hefts that glorious hammer, and something weird happens. As the bard plays [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obhWReCBOdQ Hammerfall, Hammer of Justice] the Navvie begins to glow.

Not like the sacrifice, not green, not with an earthly light either. No.

Like a flaming union jack.

:''>this is new''

He goes for it. A leap that brings his hammer down on it's forehead. A leap that should kill it. A leap that should shatter the earth and rend space and time asunder.

It keeps right on coming, smacking him aside. With a sickening crunch, he slams into a pillar. Out of the fight.

Spent shells rattle off my hobnails. Followed by two speedloaders.

The bard shifts gear, he might be fucking useless but my god does he know what he's doing when he plays. DM fiat says [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hVcmwQANMk AC/DC, gone shooting].

I aim for the mark of the hammer, just as Angus gets the thermic lance into it, ripping it open further, and I empty both cylinders.

It comes to a halt in front of my boots.

Dead.

Meanwhile, Cruella is playing connect the dots using knives and the Padre. He's decided he wants to talk.

We decide to introduce him to the Purple Penguin.

The Wizard goes to check on Navvie (he's gonna be fine).

Meanwhile Cruella borrows the purple Penguin.

:"This Padre, is the Purple Penguin. Purple Penguin is annoyed you killed all those people, and every time you don't answer the Purple Penguin, the closer you become to being a eunuch understand?"
:"You'll nevernyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaargh!"
:"I said answer the purple penguin, do you understand?"
:"...yes"
:"How many of those things were there?"
:"I can't teaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!"
:"What do we say to that Mr. Penguin? [She speaks in a falsetto pretending to be the penguin] 'bad padre' now you've fed all these people to those things. How many of the big ones are there?"
:"No pl... wait wait WAIT! Not again! Three!"
:"Good Padre, aren't you pleased Purple Penguin? 'Yes!' Now we've killed two, where is the third?"
:"We... we sent it to England, to Guy Fawkes... In time for the coronation"
:[Players: Oh come on...]
:[IC] "How long do we have!"
:"You have no time! It will be oaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Tomorrow!"
:"Thank you Padre." [Stab]

:''>P for Pendetta''

We make for Calais as fast as we can. We don't know if it'll be fast enough. We ride through the night. Catch the overnight ferry and are in Dover for dawn. A steam train sees us into London 11:00 am. We have barely an hour until the coronation when we find ourselves heavily armed, probably persona non grata, and in Westminister.

We don't know what Guy Fawkes looks like, but we do know he's beneath the palace of Westminister.

So, remember those automatons that Queenie had? Well there's a number of them around Westminster Abbey, so this is gonna be fun.

It's also worth mentioning:
:''>why leechclownthings in London?''
The Padre and his church were pissed that we were crowning another [not]Protestant King. They'd rather we were [not]Catholic.

We decide stealth is the best option here. Bard pipes up with one of his actually pretty sharp ideas.
""The thing in Paris was fucking huge. I wonder how they'd get it under the palace? Unless they grew it here?"

Additionally some relevant V music for you
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbxgYlcNxE8

There's no big holes, therefore it could literally be fucking anywhere under the palace. He could have been feeding it on stocks of royal food, or wine, or diverted a sewer, we have no idea, it might even have laid eggs.

(We did later let the French Embassy know they might want to have a look in the catacombs and under Notre Dame)

There's some discussion. The DM, being a cunt. Goes into his bag (we played at my place) and takes out an old fashioned alarm clock and sets it for 45 minutes time from now. (Fuck. You. DM).

We can get under the palace ''and maybe find it'' or we can get into the palace and wait for it to come up from out of the floor or whatever.

The river side is least defended. Now the automatons would be an issue. Would. Except one thing. They're steel.

Wizard decides to have a go, we might even get some troopers to assist us if he can charm it. Well at least he didn't role a 1. He does however manage to get the thing to walk straight forwards, into the river, setting off in the direction of Brussels. It was later heard of in Munich, then Istanbul, then Hyderabad, then Brisbane, I still wake up in the middle of the night worrying it might be spotted in Chile, making the return trip. Pissed as hell.

So, the way in is clear, we get in fast, going for a balcony, we acquire some vestments (priest clothes). Cruella's knives do our bluffwork for us
:"I am not a girl. Am I? Good. No."

Now for those non British Anons, the pic (do we need to add it to this page?) is of the interior of westminister abbey, and we wait. Guns, knives, hammer, (I don't know how either, but bagpipes and flamethrower too) under our robes.

The ceremony is beautiful. Dottering mad King Algernon forgets what he's doing, falls asleep, doesn't remember the words, tries to give the crown back to the archbishop.

Then suddenly, there's a rumble, there's a honk, and right in the middle of that pic, up comes the biggest murderworm yet.

We let our vestments drop.

The whirring of the gatling shotgun is drowned out as the bard launches into [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSH0eRKq1lE Scotland the Brave] [Note to the Americans, this is hilarious.] and as the Navvie leaps, he starts to glow again (I make a mental note to look into that), Cruella follows, Angus goes nuts, and the wizard and I light the fucker up.

Algernon is under the throne, the archbishop is being eaten, and the great and the good run for cover.

The fight is not over quickly, nor is it bloodless, but by god do we do our country proud. When the smoke clears, when my gatling runs dry, and with most of Westminster Abbey ablaze (careful Angus) the King is crowned atop the body of one giant fucking scary French clownworm and we get a royal pardon.

===The Beastmen of Wales===
So, for the next episode we must skip forward in time about six months. Algernon has proved a weak king (no surprise) and the Welsh and Irish are preparing to invade. We have our royal charter and the party reconvene in Harrogate.

King Algernon I has been persuaded to lead an army into Wales. Armed with the new Martini Henry rifles (remember way back at the start of this? That's what we got from the alchemist), they march confidently into Wales. Initial skirmishes go well. Welsh barbarians chucking spears, then melting back into the bush at the first volley. The army marches on to Harlech. Algernon leads an assault on the castle of King Rorke and his men of Harlech. Algernon is captured and the army massacred. Failures in the supply train (the army have boxes of ammo for those new rifles. The boxes are screwed shut. No screwdrivers) see the army butchered to a man.

Our mission, when we choose to accept it, is to get into Harlech, possibly kill king Rorke, and rescue Algernon.

First it's necessary to lay out exactly what the Welsh are (sorry Wales). They're a mix of satyrs, half man, half goat, centaurs, and similar. All with the top half of a man and the lower half of some form of Ungulate. They're tribesmen, smart, cunning, and well organized.

Harlech is remote, a large isolated castle. Definitely not something the six of us (+ penguin) can storm by force.

King Rorke is half man, half bull. There are also rumours of the Welsh being supported by a wizard, one who calls himself
:''>Merlin''

:''>why are the Welsh so annoyed?''
Queenie ruled that they weren't human and therefore English settlers could claim their lands by force.

So, we are in my Dorf Fortress. Six months have passed and the party have used them well.

:''>bard''
Has learnt to weaponize the bagpipes. He may now damage enemies with them
:''>Angus''
Invented napalm. Runs a successful shop. (He is a greengrocer at heart)
:''>Wizard''
Is now Sir Wizard, got married. Has further developed his powers.
:''>Cruella''
Now officially consort of Aldous. Has obtained a wicked looking bastard sword. Talks to it. It may talk back.
:''>Navvie''
The spirit of the Union (the magic glowy thing) defies all research. Still likes hitting stuff.
:''>Aldous''
I have some new titles, a waifu, and the gatling shotgun has gone tacticool.
:''>Purple Penguin''
Already at level cap.

So we unfurl the map again. I light my pipe. The bard helps as usual by humming a tune. Everyone leans in and we start to plot.
Going overland seems more than a little dangerous. The army was lead into a trap and it seems the party would be ambushed if we tried.

We could go by sea however. We'd have to be careful and lucky to avoid the Irish.

Or we could go south through the much safer channel and then up and round. It is still likely that we would meet pirates.

We decide to sail from Liverpool and see what happens.

We provision ourselves and move on from Harrogate to Liverpool.

So we arrive in port. There are three ships we can take:
:1. The "HMS Invincible 2", a battlecruiser. Not exactly subtle.
:2. The tramp steamer - "Matilda," subtle, not exactly fast. Looks inconspicuous
:3. The gunboat - HMS "38 Minutes," small, fast, and exactly the sort of thing the pirates would love to steal if they can catch us.

We favour the gunboat for the stealthy approach, reasoning we may also need to run away quickly.

The royal charter (a very handy document, I should say we are described as "Adventurers By Appointment to <s>Her Majesty - Queenie hugs, kisses and I'll chop off your balls</s> His Majesty Algernon I, for services rendered" on the charter).

Anyway, this document sees us aboard the 38 minutes and sailing south at great speed. The Bard pipes us out of harbour as is tradition. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLYT0NR8ZLc Saxon, thin red line].

:''>DM: roll some dice please Bard''
:''>rolls''
:''>You kill three bystanders.''
:''>Oh, I forgot about that. I'll play a bit more quietly next time.''

Anyway, we make good speed southwards.

As we round a headland, the shout comes
:"BOARD THEM."
We've run straight into an ambush. Two pirate ships sling grappling harpoons at us.

We look at each other. We split into two groups and shout.
:"BOARD THEM BACK!"

The pirates don't last very long, at all. The 38 Minutes rakes them with machine gun fire before we board, and the party commit all sorts of unpleasantness to the crew.

The bard looks around.

:"Guys I have an idea
:We take these sails, and well there's six of us, Wizard, Cruella and Me are the tallest so we could sort of cover each other with sails so from a distance we'd look sorta like centaurs and..."
:
:"Guys?"
:Angus: "I have another idea, lets take one of these ships."

Unanimously agreeing that Angus's plan is less stupid, we decide to leave the 38 Minutes moored in a cove near Harlech, and take the "The Revenge of the Purple Penguin" in closer for a look at the castle.

The castle, it's fucking Harlech Castle, we sneak ashore in just before dawn, using the dusk for cover, and get a little closer. We set up on a little hill nearby and decide to observe the situation. There's thick mist. Really thick. We use the cover of it to get on the hill into a copse of trees.

The bard and DM are passing notes. Nothing is on fire yet, so we're probably OK, but that's a really bad sign,

We settle in and wait for daybreak.

We can just make out the torches on the castle walls and not much else. When the sun starts to get rid of the fog, we start seeing more detail, and hearing things. All around us. We appear to have followed a stream (to avoid being tracked/scented) straight into the enemy camp.

We're surrounded by tents and dozing centaurs.

Alright. Plan B. Lets wait for nightfall.

We pass the day sleeping and observing as best we can.

Observations include:
:- That's a fuckton of Welsh
:- Let's not go out there for a bit

We wait for nightfall. The bard starts getting twitchy about dusk. He goes into his bag and removes a small sail.
:"Guys guys we could..."
:"Shut the fuck up [bard player]"

We think and discuss (quietly). We are pretty sure our king will be held not far from King Rorke. We also know they want his ransom so they haven't killed him. Our best bet is to get into the castle at night, and get out again, King in tow and a knife through Rorke's heart. Now aside from Cruella, none of our weapons are exactly stealthy... We need a diversion.

:"Wouldn't a disguise be really useful here?"
No, shut up bard.

As fog starts to come up, we have a thought. The baggage train includes a lot of hay (because centaurs don't like pulling carts, so there are normal livestock), surely a small fire would become a big one pretty fast. A technowizard bomb in amongst all that ammo they stole from the kings army would also sure be handy.

We reason with enough flame and smoke, Rorke will have to send his bodyguard, or at least some out, to help deal with things, and they'll have to come through the main gate.

And the ammo dump cooking off should give us enough sound and random ricochets to cover us if we have to go loud.

Angus gets given the job of starting the fire, and Wizard of assembling the bomb. We split up. Bard and Angus with me, and Cruella and Navvie with Wizard.

This was of course the plan.

They say no plan survives contact with the enemy. Well...

The wizard's team set off in the fog and darkness, with Cruella with them they should manage to be stealthy enough for the wizard to set off a timed explosion with limited disturbance.

Well team wizard snuck through rows of tents and with a couple of guards getting a second smile, they did just fine. Setting off to wait in the ditch next to the main gate for us.

Our stealth team has: a dwarf in plate armour, an orc with a full on flamethrower, and a bard who normally contributes to the war effort by bagpiping. We are ninja.

We get surprisingly far with our efforts before Angus trips on a guy rope, then falling into a rack of weaponry, making enough racket to wake up the Welshmen in the tent nearest.

Options:
:''>Bluff?''
I and Bard have decent social skills. We could, but neither of us speak Welsh.

:''>Start shooting?''
Retarded for obvious reasons

:''>Run?''
They'll raise the alarm

:''>Silent takedown?''
Cruella is the only member of party able to do that usefully.

:''>Hide?''
:"Guys we could..."
:''>shut up bard.''

Hiding is our best option though. We duck into some barrels and Bard tosses the sail cloth over us. In the dark and the mist it's just enough.
:''>Bard player is positively beaming at this point.''

We wait, holding our breath, we look innocuous enough against the background of mist and tents, in amongst the baggage train we are just another half shape in the darkness.

We listen to the beastmen bicker and pick up spears.

We wait.

We peek out. We got away with it.

We continue on. Angus is delivered to the hay bails. He has so many fire related skills that him building a small fire which won't be seen but will burn very very fast into the bales (after about five minutes) is easy enough for him.
(IIRC he used a stub of candle, a lantern, and some thick rope soaked in oil as a sort of fuse - it was enough though)

We snuck on. DM, perhaps recognizing we could all die really easily, is likely to have fudged several rolls here, and a lot of the camp were passed out drunk which was useful.

The fire gets going into a good blaze and down comes the drawbridge. Hooves thunder over us as we wait. Then the ammo dump goes up. Perfect.

We wait until the hooves stop. The portcullis starts to fall. Wizard creates tension in the chains and we get up, over and under the portcullis as the drawbridge starts to rise behind us. We are in and it seems no one is any the wiser. The wizard causes the iron of the portcullis to splay out into the cobblestones. No one is getting in or out without our say so. (We do know there is a sally port on the far (seaward) wall.

We get into the cellars relatively easily and as far as we know, unseen. What we find in the cellars is impressive to say the least. Cask after cask, barrel after barrel. Out of curiosity it we find an open one. It's Guinness.

It appears Harlech is what has happened to what the Welsh used to trade with the rest of Britbongsteros (along with tin and mutton).

So, we are beneath Harlech Castle, we have found the king along with a variety of other prisoners. We take it upon ourselves to free each and every one (the Purple Penguin approves). King Algernon has very little idea what is going on but thanks us for "allowing him to continue to consider the custard." The other prisoners are a mix of general prison scum and prisoners of war, our party of 6 is now a party of 40 odd.

We decide to make for the courtyard and the sally port, then the ship.

We get into the courtyard just fine, it's about then that we realize we might not be the only ones to have noticed our entrance. King Rorke and the rest of his bodyguards are facing us, and are not looking best pleased. We can fight, we can most likely take them, the question is, is it a good idea?

:''>'dis gonna be gud...''

We crack our collective necks, rack slides and generally get ready.

The bard pipes up for the first time in a while.

:"Guys, guys, I got this."
OK fuck it, it's not like you ever do anything anyway.

He takes a couple steps forward.

You could hear a pin drop. Prisoners and party on one side, and King Rorke and his elite on the other.

The Bard speaks.
:"I like beer."
???
:''>Everyone likes beer.''
ok...
:"And we know trade has ceased. We have here the king of this sceptered isle, his predecessor decreed you were no longer human, no longer to be traded with, no longer to produce Guinness for us, no longer to own lands, and this is why you rebelled, so were this man, this King, to reverse that, to allow the beer to flow, then what need for this rebellion be there?"

It's working.

Shit it's actually working.

:''>The bard is starting to glow, just as Navvie did previously. It's going well.''
King Rorke strikes his sword into the cobblestones.
:"Very well, you may..."
:"WAIT."
It's Merlin. He looks exactly like you'd expect. It's Gandalf with a different hat.
:"NO. YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS."

Merlin is up on the battlements. This loopy wizard is going to object to creating peace because... actually why is he doing that?

We ask him.
:"Why spill more blood when we can make peace?"
:"Because you will never keep this promise, you will never honour your word, you will never hold true."
Fuck.

Rorke and his men are starting to look grumpy, getting ready to charge. Bard is no longer glowing, but he does launch into [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cQNkIrg-Tk Hank Williams Jr, Country Boys Can Survive] looks like this is gonna end bloody. Then... Cruella does something no one expected.

She seizes the Purple Penguin. She holds him high.
:"What is this child's toy? Why do we carry it? It is a symbol, a promise we made to a little girl, that we would return her toy to her, that she would not go alone into that cold dark night, that in all of the horror of the world, there was some good. Let there still be some good. Each and every warrior here will have a wife, a mother, children, why must they be without a father, a son, and a husband? This Purple Penguin is the symbol of what we fight for, and why you should let the Guinness flow."
It's not a natural 20, but it's an 19, it's enough, Merlin doesn't have an answer. Instead he levitates down to our level. Struts past Rorke and starts to chant in a language no one recognizes.

Rorke splits him from crown to crotch neatly with one blow of his axe.
:"Peace it is."
Everybody drinks Guinness until they pass out.

That was our one and only happy ending in Britbongsteros

===Britbongsteros and the Lucky Charms===
So with peace in Wales, we return to London hungover as fuck and with King Algernon and King Rorke in tow. Due to some fantastic
:''> I roll to seduce''
Angus appears to have been the only person in Wales (in Britbongsteros) to have fucked an actual sheep.

With the Kings in London we hang around for a bit, taking a couple days off for R n R while they negotiate. Most of it is spent laughing at Angus who seems to have gotten a souvenir from his beau.

During our time (in the pub) we learn that there is a mysterious ship moored in the Thames and that the advisor who was so in favour of Algie invading Wales wants to see us.

:''>Who is the adviser Dm?''
:''>Richard the third duke of Bosworth and blackadder, master of Dunny on the Wold.''
:''>Richard the Third?''
:''>Richard III''
:''>Of Bosworth''
:''>DM....''

So we travel to Cutlers hall where tricky dicky wants to meet us. We are expecting hunchbacked evil Richard, what we get is a Broad shouldered man, with a huge beard, strongfat as fuck and with a big booming laugh. It's Brian blessed and the King's second bastard cousin.

He is with one Samuel Johnson and one Ollie Cromwell.

Together they represent His Majesties most treasured advisers. The Privy Council.

:''>Who is....''

Google it.

It seems we have developed a reputation for solving problems and the kingdom has two. One is nascent, a vessel full of Arab Princes has come to visit with a view to British investment in extracting oil from their lands. Sir Hobart and The Old Gang believe this could be used to fuel several new weapons of war. Including something called a "Land Cruiser" designs of which show great long caterpillar tracks and batteries of turreted cannons. The Privy Council will keep us posted on this project.

Richard starts munching on an entire roasted pig as Oliver Cromwell outlines what will be our next task while a prototype of this vehicle is built.

:''>A modest proposal on the Irish Question''

While Blackadder's servant Baldrick pours drinks, we listen to Crommie explain the problem.

:''>Eire Delenda Est...''

The Irish have been raiding across the Irish sea, the entire west coast is almost unlivable, British warships are being lost to the allies of the Irish, the so called "Deep ones."

Our mission? End the threat of the Irish.

How?

The Irish are mostly human barbarians (sorry Ireland) who have a portal to another dimension/world somewhere near Waterford. It is from this that they are summoning Pacific Rim style gribblies. Sir Hobart and his colleague (one Barnes Wallis) have contrived an explosive with high plasticity and excellent explosives properties. "Conflagration causing caustic cement" or C4

We are to destroy the portal and a seaborne invasion of troops (including the prototype Land Cruiser) can deal with the humans. The Irish can summon monsters faster than we can build ships so with the portal atomized the navy can deal with Cthulhu and pals but not before.

Victory brings glory and medals.

Failure will bring us a Victoria cross

:''>Isn't that good?''

No it means we will be crucified

How we get to Waterford is an interesting question. Or it would be, if we didn't have a pirate ship moored off Harlech castle and the 38 Minutes keeping an eye on it. We return to Harlech and prepare.

So, now in Harlech, King Rorke came back with us, he and the King (or rather Blackadder and co) having agreed to allow free trade and the Welsh are now people again.

We had the option of taking the HMS Trafalgar - a RN Submarine but decided the pirate ship would be more subtle, so the Trafalgar will linger off Waterford as long as she can, to be summoned by signal flare (or she will run the fuck away if Cthulhu is spotted).

The voyage is uneventful, we land near Tramore, then it's just a matter of following the great green glowy thing that we can see in the sky. It's half submerged in the bit on Google Maps called The Gap.

Now a note on the Irish. As mentioned they're human, they're armed with sharp sticks. They will attack us on sight. With our weaponry we can annihilate a whole whole lot of them, however the DM is very careful to inform us that as soon as a shot is fired or the alarm raised, we will have about 15 minutes in game until Cthulhu or his cousin comes to try and find us.

The countryside as we cross it is green, not the healthy emerald isle green, but slime green, there are shoggoth looking things squelching across the land in the distance, lit against the stars by the way colours shift within them, like a land based aurora borealis. The land is nothing like you'd expect Ireland, it's not a wasteland, it's just... alien.

Plant things we don't recognize, reptilian things in the sky. Small tiny little flying fish that bite like mosquitoes. The sounds of the night as we carefully navigate the sucking mire of the coast are just wrong, what could be frogs screech, what might be fish croak, what definitely aren't foxes make pings and clicks like dolphins. Strange dark shapes move in the water, faces appear and disappear in puddles an inch deep.

On the skyline great huge shapes move inland, some humanoid, some that defy imagination, and others we don't want to imagine.

Toward the gap the great arch of the portal rises from the waters, spinning with green lightning, we can taste magic in the air. Not the ozone of earthly magic, this is a clinging filth that makes your spit black. From the portal there is a great flash and a huge tail with a great staring luminous eye on it appears from nowhere and slowly submerges as it slides down toward Dunmore.

It's a lovely place.

:''>The Purple Penguin Abides''
We cross overland without incident, if thoroughly and completely freaked the fuck out. Britbongsteros is not a nice place but this is new, this is bad. Angus and I are hauling heavy satchels of C4, and as we get closer to the gate we start to realize just how big it is. The flickering eldritch lightning isn't helping either.

We come upon the gate just inland of it. We're pleasantly surprised that there doesn't seem to be anyone around the thing. Maybe the fish thing we saw earlier was the last to come through for the night?

We start to feel on edge, Cruella's hair is standing on end, my beard is bristling, change of plan.

We retreat to a safer distance as the gate starts to flicker, to shift, to twist, almost biologically, flexing like muscle, peristaltic shifting within it.

:''>THOOOOOOOM''

The lightning blasts outward on a level we feel more than hear, and something else slips away into the waters.

We estimate it was about 45 minutes since we saw it land, and we start to really hope that the HMS Trafalgar is still off shore.

It's then we see the barbarians (I'm not going to call them Irish). They approach the gate furtively, like they're afraid of what it could do to them, they start to chant, to cavort, some sacrifice, driving prisoners into pits at the bottom of the pillars, others stroke and caress the mass of it. It's like they're refueling it. A priest is rowed out into the middle of the thing, and slits open the still living body of [we are going to pretend it was a sheep because I feel sick typing this] and [removes the unborn lamb from its womb] and kills it.

The small body he holds starts to glow, and he tosses the green shining corpses into the inky black waters.

Lightning starts to play up the arc, and the glow comes from within the waters.

It appears they've summoned another.

We also have our time frame.

45 minutes to recharge, five minutes to refuel, and then the natives disappear.

One hushed conference later and we agree, we have a plan.
:''>It's a shit plan.''

We wait, we wait for the next summoning to complete. Then...

We wait. We wait for those five minutes for the barbarians to dissipate. Then we charge.

We're about 150 yards from the gate when we're spotted, a wedge of dirty, malnourished, and zealously frenzied barbarians forming almost from nowhere.

The DM starts timing us. 15 Minutes to Cthulhu.

The barbarians form a shield wall. There's six of us. What can we do against 500 odd men?

We form a straight line. Six abreast and move forward in pace with the bard. He runs surprisingly fast but stops at 30 ft and plays. He plays [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V88ydbx5-4A Man O'war, Defender]

Then we simply charge. Straight into that mass of humanity, slaves of the dark ones, they form a shield wall.

The Navvies hammer breaks shields, Angus turns men into screaming pillars of flame, where they don't simply melt. The gatling shotgun makes a fine red mist. Cruella laughs and moves so fast you can barely work out her motions until she stops to spit out a mouthful of jugular. The Wizard simply drives one sharpened stake through man, after man, after man.

We massacre them. Wading through blood and offal to the sacrifice pits.

Looking back on it now, sitting in my safe warm study, pipe in hand and Cruella playing with a dog nearby, those warriors spoke as they died. Each and every one, and they thanked us.

They thanked us for saving them.

We feel literally and figuratively filthy as we start to prime the charges.

The silence is the worst, after the screams. After the cacophony.

There's a shape on the horizon, a shape like a great, crystalline structure, that walks with the gait of a man and the step of a bear, it can't be looked at for long, and it's coming our way.

We thought to wire the charges in a neat demolition pattern, the wizard would bore into the pillars, and we would place shaped charges, we thought.
:''>We thought.''
We didn't think that these things were operated by blood sacrifice.

The gate has starting to glow already. We didn't summon Cthulhu, The barbarians did that.
:''>We just summoned Cthulu's dad.''
We simply toss the bags of C4 in, fire the signal flare and turn tail.

Thing is.

That great big shape on the horizon is catching up on us. It's a ten minute run to the Trafalgar, even if she's there. If she hasn't been sunk. We set the charges for two and whatever the thing on the horizon is, it's about ten minutes away.

It's gonna be fine, it's gonna be tight.

We run. We run like crazy.

The charges go off. We don't even look back. The pillar comes down, Magic blasting out, throwing us flat. The shock wave blowing us off our feet. Heat on our exposed skin.

We can't hear, we can barely see, magical lightning spearing into the ground around us. Throwing up great spumes of earth.

The beast is catching up. By the time we're on the dunes, down at Dunmore East, it's right behind us. It's right there. It's literally on us. It's... indescribable.

Out in the dark, we can see the Trafalgar. She's not alone. The beasts of the waves have risen. The Trafalgar and the entire Atlantic fleet lay into every filthy beast your mind can imagine, lit in flashes of lightning, strobing slaughter, guns fire, ships are torn asunder, beasts scream, everything dies.

There's something small coming for us. It's one of the Trafalgar's boats. A steam pinnace.

Thing is, the beast on shore is at least as fast as it.

We are stuck.

We can dig in, try and hamstring it maybe? We can...

:''>The Navvie passes DM a note.''
:"Bard. Play me something good. I go to glory."

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-reAahY1GCE Jeff Wayne's Thunderchild]

The night is black, rent asunder by shot, ethereal lightning, and the sound of a countryside dying, and in that darkness, the Navvie starts to glow. Stripes of Red, White, and Blue.

Saltire first, cross of St George next, and finally St Patrick's Saltire. Overlaid across his broad, broad back.

We move to stand with him.

:"Go boys. Go."

:"Go."

I shake his hand. I press something into that broad paw of a hand. A small, purple, penguin.

He tucks him into his shirt, and starts to walk forward. A small glowing flag into the blackness of the night.

That was the last we saw of him.

The beast stopped in its tracks. Raised one great foot, and slammed it down on that little flag.

We watched from the beach, then the pinnace.

It raised its foot, and that proud little flag still stood.

It began to climb.

As we boarded the Trafalgar, we saw the beast fall, the Union Jack atop it's great head. As the Trafalgar began to sink beneath the waves, we saw that little flag cease to glow.

And that anon, is where this episode of Britbongsteros ends.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQcgUlkUv10 Saxon, Broken Heroes.]

There is an epilogue to this episode however.

We returned to Waterford the next day. The remains of the Atlantic and home fleets licking their wounds in the channel, the Trafalgar took us back to say a few words.

We went ashore and took a shovel.

The Bard plays [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYGtXcDRoi0 Amazing Grace, Royal Scots Dragoon Guards] as we walk up the beach.

We approach that great huge corpse, already rotting in the sun, seagulls (because seagulls don't give a fuck) picking at it.

Within the great sundered skull, split right down the middle, we find first a sodden, bloodied, slightly torn purple penguin.

Then within that skull, a hammer, and a body.

We start to dig. In that blasted tortured land. The flower of the British Navy burns off shore, great huge elder things lie on the beach, rotting in the sun.

Britain, this great Britain, is united once more, we did that. This man did that. This penguin did that.

We pick him up.

:''>He coughs.''

:''>motherfucker.''
I suppose I should have said "that night" (in regards to the last we saw of him), but that'd have ruined the effect a little. I thought /tg/ might prefer to experience it as we did.

:''>DM you're a dick.''

===Britbongsteros at the North Pole===
We return to London and meet with the privy council. We are informed we are being sent on holiday.

Or at least away.

An expedition to the arctic has reported no sign of a north west passage, but it has found land, under the polar ice cap. Reports by carrier albatross are notably unreliable but nothing else has been heard for six months. Fearing the intervention of a foreign (German) power we are sent northwards.

Meanwhile Britbongsteros is being drained dry, victory in Ireland has been costly and with the continentals now aware that the navy is effectively half what it once was, it seems like we may have a fight on our hands soon.

The events in Ireland have already been hushed up under the official secrets act and the Navvie, if questioned, says he remembers nothing. Even a session with Sir Richard Bacon provides no answer to his mysterious powers.

We are instead packed aboard an icebreaker and sent onwards.

Aboard the Icebreaker (HMS Intrepid) we begin to unbox some of the gear that was loaded aboard with us. We were wise enough to purchase our own cold weather gear (Bard is still wearing a kilt) but we have three big crates and no idea what they are.

:>DM: "Ok let's roll to see whats in these things! But first who wants to get me a beer?"

(This is DM code for give me a beer or its gonna be full of condoms)

Having a wizard who is very good at controlling metal means you're never without a tinopener, or in this case, a crowbar.

Now at this point DM hasn't told us a great deal about the North Pole (it's cold and not all ice), so as we pop the box, and these are big big crates, we are pleased to see the roll results in a snowcat (think APC specialized for snow). The next is camping supplies for a polar expedition. Food, tents, etc.

:>Guys?
:>What bard?
:>Can any of us drive a snowcat? Its a very different thing to a car or boat and...
:>DM: That's a very good point actually. I'll just add some penalties.
:>Party: Fucking bard.

The third box we are slightly concerned to see is full of smaller crates. The first is full of britbongsteros-not-bibles, as we dig deeper we find more of these along with a note saying we should "use them to bring the word of God to the fuzzy wuzzies" we also find a great deal of corned beef, and finally, a comically oversized whaling harpoon gun. Too big for it to be man portable, but big enough that the Cat could carry it.

:''>Scots of the (Ant)arctic''

Pleased with our haul, we settle in for the voyage and do our best to piece together what little we know and can learn from the notes sent by the expedition.

Prior to the visit of the expedition, the actual pole was uncharted, an unknown, we are aware that the icecap is thick, that the expedition included a drilling team, armed guards, and several technowizards, so they had come loaded for bear.

We knew they had traveled toward the pole from Greenland on up, when (and this was the last message) they mentioned the wizards with them having detected a large metallic mass under the ice and were going to commence drilling. We knew how far they had gone, in what direction and roughly when they'd stopped. The cat had fuel for twice that so we should be ok.

The voyage into arctic waters takes us via Scapa Flow, the Faroes, Iceland (lots of trolls and stupidly attractive elves, very odd food) and finally to Greenland. We are a bit surprised that nothing tries to eat us on the way. We are horrified however when make land. Next to the cairn erected by the British Expedition, there is another newer one.
:"L'expédition française, vive le France!"
:-signed "Napoleon Le Talleyrand De Baguette III"

Now, not only does our expedition (which as far as we know are all still alive) not know about the French being behind them, they definitely do not know that it is De Baguette leading them. We are informed (as in the characters already know, but players don't) that De Baguette is a famous French mercenary and explorer, half hobbit, half troll and not the way you'd expect either. Monsieur Talleyrand-De Baguette the elder was one fucking brave rapist hobbit.

Now. We have our mission clearly set out. The British Expedition has not been heard from in months. The French have most likely treacherously waylaid them when they stopped to examine the metal thing. We must avenge them or at the very least beat the French to the pole. So. With Union Jack flying from the CAT we set off.

Now at this point we haven't seen any unusual flora or fauna, nothing, just snow. Lots of snow. We trace the planned route of the expedition, finding camps easily enough, the expedition having left markers at each sight. Some investigation in each camp brings not only empty tins of corned beef, but also empty bottles of vin and the occasional beret.

Clearly we are following traces of both expeditions.

We proceed onward, unaccosted for the most part. We do however see an ogopogo fight some polar bears. The purple penguin and the rest of us enjoyed that. Additionally, don't eat Polar bear or shoot and attempt to eat the victorious ogopogo (they're really gamey).

We make good progress, it's high summer so we travel through the day and most of the night, stopping only to rest for a few hours here and there. We sleep in the CAT mostly. The nights are more of an eternal twilight. Beautiful but cold as fuck.

:''>About the third or fourth night. We bed down. Everyone drifts off. We are woken by a very loud rap on the window.''

Not howling of wind. Not a hungry bear. A distinctive postman's shave and a haircut knock.

We look out, there's no one there. We light lamps, and investigate, no one there. We check for footprints, just ours. Angus and Cruella both have very good senses of smell. They can't smell anything unusual.

The next night it happens again.

No one there. We're starting to freak out a bit. Characters are missing sleep, panicky, and still at the top of the world, more alone than ever, shave and a haircut on a window every night. Always when no one is looking that way, always no trace.

Remember we are alone up here. No one for miles. The CAT moves at a decent speed, so something is keeping pace. Leaving no footprints and no signs. We search the bags and panniers on the CAT thinking we have a stowaway. No sign.

The next morning, there is a big chunk missing from the engine. As though someone had taken a core sample. The bard mentions something.
:"Guys, we only have one CAT, if Wizard can't fix this. We can't walk back to shore. We are dead."
Fortunately wizard and Angus manage between them to fix the thing. It takes most of the day, into the night. The rest of us stand guard. Angus feels a tap on his shoulder. A tap tapatap. Shave and a haircut.

Angus is bent over the engine. He freaks the fuck out.
:"Its here it's here shoot it shoot it!"
There's nothing there. No print. Nothing.

We are all nervous now.

Later as we bed down. As best we can. Three on watch. Three dozing, dressed and armed, there's a colossal thud on the hood of the CAT. A skinless face stares into the light of the cab. Pile out into the twilight. Surrounding it. It's a polar bear, skinned. Slowly dribbling off the hood. From behind us. Shave and a haircut.

We turn. I bring the shotgun up and fire over the roof of the cab. Either I hit nothing or I am firing at nothing. The sound of the whirring gatling is ridiculous in the arctic silence. We are left alone on the ice. Listening to our breathing. When we wake the next morning. there are 16 tiny perfect pyramids of ball bearings on the hood. The gatling fires eight shells a second. I gave it a two second burst. It's somehow brought back each and every pellet. They pyramids on closer examination, float half an inch above the hood.

:''>Things that go bump in the not quite night.''

Something is fucking with us. The purple penguin doesn't approve of this. We decide whatever it is, tt needs to die. Whether it's aliens or invisible Inuit, it's going to fucking die.

Our first thought is to defend. How do we dig in? We could find a cave? There aren't any. We also decide against looking for one. Not fancying digging our way out of a cave in for one thing. We do however settle on pulling the CAT into a small valley type thing. Now it can only come from above, the front or the rear. We string guy ropes for the tents to empty cans. It might not actually make enough noise to set off the alarm but the wizard thinks he could detect them being disturbed. We also (well Angus and Wizard) set up half a dozen trip wires attached to mines.

We wait.

We wait longer.

:"It's here"

We listen in the dark, straining our ears in the silence of the polar night. There's very little wind. There's nothing. In the near dark, Angus lights the pilot of his flamethrower. Cruella coos soothingly at her sword.

:''>There's a very faint tinkling to the left, all eyes turn very slowly. One of the cans is floating in mid air.''

We watch as the can starts to drift toward us. Then slowly something disturbs the snow. A small thing. A very familiar thing. One of the mines is floating too. Towards us.

:''>Shit shit shit shit shit''

Angus flings open a door.

Angus torches everything for thirty yards around the mine. The mine cooks off. We unload in the direction of it. Spraying rounds. The bard launches into his most lethal of songs [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQyEnK3HNFA Luke Bryan, Drinkin Beer and wastin bullets.]

Magazines run dry, the song finishes. We pant. It must be fucking dead. We investigate.

From behind us, on the roof of the CAT

:''>The DM raps the table. Shave and a haircut''

We pivot. Silhouetted against the morning sun. A shape can just be made out. Humanoid. Maybe. More like a grasshopper, knees up by its ears. I drop the shotgun and go for my pistols. Cruella sprints across snow, the Navvie lumbers after her.

The harpoon gun (yes that thing) starts to slowly turn. Toward it. Whatever the fuck it is, I unload on it as Cruella leaps onto the Cab with it. I wing it. I'm sure I do. Cruella closes her eyes as the thing starts to leap toward her. Relying on her other senses and sword to do the work. She decapitated it. Beautifully silhouetted against the morning sun.

It's dead. We get our first look at the body. It's not as small as we thought and it must be strong. It's wearing a grey full body suit. Covered in strange devices like nothing we have ever seen. They are more science than magic but a science nothing like our own.

Something on its belt starts to flash and beep. Things that flash and beep are never good in our experience. The Navvie picks the thing up and hurls it a good forty feet. It goes up like a grenade.

We travel on. Finding a British camp. There is the usual cairn but also eight smaller ones. Burials. Three marked with British flags, five with the tri-colore.

The next night. As we bed down for our first good night's sleep.

:''>Shave and a haircut.''

:''>Not again''
Ok so we killed one. We are not entirely sure how, but if it bleeds, we can kill it. Maybe these are the things that killed the first expedition. Certainly there were bodies back at the last camp and we are nearly at the dig site.

Cruella and the wizard seem to be our strongest assets here. The wizard doesn't seem able to sense them, but at least he can stop things flying at us, and Cruella is fast, stealthy and violent. Cruella pulls herself up onto the CAT and closes her eyes.

Things are starting to levitate. Angus wrestles with the flamethrower, it takes the Navvie to help hold him and it down, allowing the Navvies hammer to go full Mjolnir and clobber the bard.

Cruella with her eyes closed has only the other seven senses (she's not human), but it's enough to feel tiny vibrations of the thing in the air. Her sword lashes out and seemingly from nowhere half a torso appears. Followed a moment later by the rest of the creature.

The Navvie is already prepared and punts both halves into the distance. The explosion ensuring whatever these things are, remains a mystery.

We continue onwards to the dig site. We see in the distance a number of CAT like vehicles. Of two different types. Some with Union Jacks others are French, at least De Baguette hasn't beaten us to the pole.

We start to investigate. bearing in mind anyone alive would have seen us from miles away and heard us before that, we are pretty sure something has gone horribly wrong. It never occurred to us that De Baguette might be preparing an ambush, so we drove right on up to the camp and vehicles. Judging by the Union Jack still flying and a French flag next to it, if the two expeditions had met, it was amicable. So where was everyone?

We look around, orderly tents, half eaten meals, standard Mary Celeste stuff. We note that the meals include corned beef (British) and Merlot (French). There are no bullet holes, blood stains or anything else suspicious, barring that everything has lain undisturbed for at least five months.

Undisturbed is probably not good. Surely bears or something else would have come looking? Nothing however.

We do find the British Expedition HQ and the very orderly logbook. The entries all end five months ago. Mostly it is things we already knew or banality (still drilling, thirty feet today) we note that De Baguette was greeted and the two countries joined forces to drill. Creating a what was referred to as both a channel and tunnel down toward the metallic item. (The logbook called it a "Chunnel" for some reason). The last entry read

:"Slowly, desperately slowly it seemed to us as we watched, the remains of passage debris that encumbered the lower part of the doorway were removed, until at last we had the whole door clear before us. The decisive moment had arrived. With trembling hands I made a tiny breach in the upper left hand corner. Darkness and blank space, as far as an iron testing-rod could reach, showed that whatever lay beyond was empty, and not filled like the passage we had just cleared. Candle tests were applied as a precaution against possible foul gases, and then, widening the hole a little, I inserted the candle and peered in, De Baguette and Lady Evelyn (his daughter) standing anxiously beside me to hear the verdict. At first I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle flame to flicker, but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist... there was gleaming metal within, and light. Tomorrow we shall investigate further."

Some anons may recognize the text. I did.

We realize we are going in. Whether we like it or not. Honour and the penguin demand it.

The chunnel is not quite wide enough to fit the CAT down, so we decide to proceed on foot. The Chunnel proceeds downwards as far as we can see, lights strung on the walls merge together in the distance, it's a long way down, so we'd better start walking.

So on we go, into the chunnel, the crude earthworks give way to paved, interlocked, impeccably precise granite blocks as we proceed downward. We pass over what must have been the remains of the door way, and into a great stone cavern, so large, it recedes off into blackness in the distance. In the very center is a circular, metal object, an ellipsoid. It's hard to tell the scale of the thing at this distance, but as we walk toward it, we realize it's huge. With one small opening, perhaps three men wide, and three high.

As we approach, we still see no signs of the expeditions, as we approach the doorway, there is a sound from within. We ready arms. What the hell is...

A man.

A man stumbles out.

Disheveled, dirty, and missing his eyes.

He collapses into the arms of the Navvie.

Crying, whimpering.
:"I have seen things. Wonderful things..."
and he expires.

So, that's probably good.

We examine the corpse. He's plainly starving, emaciated, and of course his eyes appear to have been scooped out, which is always a great sign.

He's wearing a mix of British and French Uniforms, filthy and very, very dead.

Obviously with that most excellent of omens, we enter the metal ellipsoid.

What we find within is beyond our understanding, it's reminiscent of a battleship, strange pipes and tubes run hither and thither, and there's corpses, lots of corpses, electrocuted, chopped, splattered, zapped, and generally in bits. All human. Although the walls aren't marked, there are the squashed remains of bullets on the floor. They must've been fired, missed, and then hit the walls, and simply fallen to the floor. We estimate the better part(s) of twenty men within the thing.

We find on one of the bodies a portable gramaphone. The Bard picks it up, fiddles, and we hear what has been recorded.

:"I see things, Wonderful things. This creation, this steel building, I am inclined to call it a ship, that lay open within the cavern, allowing our ingress, it is incredible, beautiful, and yet so strange. We track dark endless halls, lit by our torches and gas lamps. There is no dust, no sign of habitation. De Baguette surmises that the creation was too large to have been brought down into this edifice, the edifice must have been built around it."

:"We have found within bodies, sleepers, so alien, so bizarre in build and pose, it is large as a bear and it glistens like wet leather. But that face. It... it's indescribable. I can hardly force myself to keep looking at it. The eyes are black and gleam like a serpent. They recline tubes, lit with a cold, unearthly blue light, they are perhaps... De Baguette! No!

:>the DM hits something on his laptop. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I Martian War Call: ULLA]

:Party: Well fuck this....

:"The sleepers have not awakened, but the edifice has, it glows, I am sure though that soon the sleepers will wake. Perhaps we shall meet them."

The DM is passing notes to Cruella, the Bard, and Angus.

Cruella goes full on spazz, falling to the floor, jittering, crying, moaning, again, that sound: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

It's coming from her.

The record continues as we rush to her.

:"[Breathless] Professor Quatermass, what say you!? What is... What is happening? Oh by the gods, what is happening... I... I am a scientist, an Englishman. I shall... God save our... I shall... I see Wondrous things..."
:Another voice. "Dammit Roney, [Slap] here some brandy... tell me what do you see?
:"I see... a hunt, a great hunt, I fly, I hop, I am as one with the horde, we must destroy, destroy destroy the unbeliever, the unclean... destroy... Quatermass... the..."
:Quatermass: "De Baguette, I think Roney is... he is seeing what the sleepers have seen, what they know..."
:Roney: "I see a pale blue dot in the sky, I see a plan, I lust for the dot, IT WILL BE OURS IT WILL BE OURS."
Cruella whimpers
:"I have seen wondrous things"
:Quatermass: "Roney, WHAT COLOUR IS THE SKY?"
:Roney: "It is purple my friend. Purple."

We hold Cruella down, an epileptic fit perhaps? We force brandy into her. She cries, shivering,

:Quatermass: "I surmise these things are not of our world, nor of another dimension, they are alien to this earth, they are...."
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]
:Quatermass: "Come on you alien bastard. I WILL SHOW YOU HOW AN ENGLISHMAN DIES."
The recording continues. A female voice, French, Evelyn perhaps?

:"There are not many of us left, the aliens have a power, to suck the magic from us, the wizards, those brave Scotsmen fought them, or they tried, their saws and spears fell to the ground, and yet those men fought them with their bare hands. They are all dead now, as are the others...."
:"They do not just kill, they flay men alive, taking parts, they are... they are scientists... like us..."
:"I have nearly made it to the... to the..."
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]
:''>A long, drawn out female scream. From the recording, and from Cruella.''

So Cruella is going nuts, foaming at the mouth and generally not looking good. We decide to bug out. That seems like the best idea, take off and nuke the site from orbit.

Let's get ou... the door is closed.

The door is fucking closed.

We already know that we can't harm the material the alien ship is made of with bullets, Angus's thermic lance doesn't work either. The Wizard can't manipulate it. We're trapped.

Cruella snaps upright. Her eyes are jet black. No longer human.

Her mouth opens, echoing a cry that comes through the entire ship.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

Even the Purple Penguin is not very happy about this.

We decide if they have closed the door, they also know exactly where we are. That can only be bad. We pick up Cruella, and pick a direction, and start on inwards into who knows what.

We don't meet anything but we appear to be in the hold, crates are crates, and these ones although alien, still retain that essential crateness.

We move onward, slicing pies and tacticooling it, the interior decor changes, less grey and utilitarian, now a little fancier, and white, stark blinding white.

And red. Lots of red.

We appear to have come across the medbay, we get our first good look at the aliens, they're bent over tables with still living, screaming, humans on them, slowly taking them to pieces. Disassembling them like a child might build a lego house, except in reverse. Bit by bit.

The aliens are taller than us, or would be except they sit on their haunches, like grasshoppers, they have six limbs, a pair of manipulator hand analogues, and two wicked talons. This is our first good look at them, whether what we fought (the shave-and-a-haircuts) were drones or a subspecies we have no idea. These things have big, broad heads, with jet black eyes.

We are looking in through an observation window, fuck it. Scientists or whatever they might be, they're gonna die.

We've not gotten the hang of alien doors yet, but the Navvie giving an interior door a good hard slam buckles it, a second slam with the hammer is enough to twist it inwards, a third brings it down (he was scarily good with that hammer).

:''>We do the work of the purple penguin.''

The aliens might be terrifying, they might be weird, they respond very well to buckshot, .45 caliber, and axe.

We then begin the grim work of giving peace to the subjects.

The five of us...

:''>The five of us''

Where's Cruella?

The Navvie had been carrying her, he'd left her propped up against the wall, in all the excitement, we didn't notice the stealthiest character of the group slip away.

Remember I mentioned she talks to her sword? And it may or may not talk back? Well the thing is lying on the ground. She never leaves it, it's never more than an arms reach away. The thing is pointing down the hall.

I go to pick it up. I lift it just fine, but the damn thing won't change it's orientation, it points rigidly North North East.

What we can only assume is the direction she went in.

I hand the sword to the wizard (who as a wizard is meant to know about this shit), and we proceed to slice pie in the direction the thing points.

We follow the sword, the thing works just like a divining rod. Cruella's player is loving this.

We appear to have left the medical wing, as we enter what may or may not have been a canteen, we meet more aliens, one firefight later (which although awesome, isn't exciting to retell) and we head onward.

There's a distinct and very weird hum in the floor. This thing is starting to power up.

We travel through what must be the cryosleep area, lots and lots and lots empty pods, and then as we pelt down a corridor.
:"Bonjour mes amis."

As far as we know, there was only one woman in either expedition, Evelyn De-Baguette.

She's still a woman, whether she is human is an entirely different matter.

The aliens have done... something to her, she's a lot more and lot less than human.

I will not attempt to replicate the DM's atrocious French accent, but what she said was:
:"Don't be jealous boys, it only works on women, and doesn't it look good? They've got me, and now they have your friend, they've been asleep for a long time, and now that the aliens are awake, they can begin to rebuild, to repopulate... your friend is going to help."

:''>Muh magical realm (no shut the fuck up)''

The sword points straight past Evelyn. The Purple Penguin doesn't like it when we hit girls. So we don't. We burn her.

The DM occasionally forgets that a flamethrower is actually pretty damn useful in a bossfight (he really shouldn't have let Angus have one...) and we burn her up good.

We follow our diving rod, and there in true Martian style, is Cruella in a pod, and a fuckload of Aliens. They do not seem particularly amused with us either. We're a bit annoyed with them too.

:>How was Cruella's player taking this?
:Highly amused. The DM had bribed her beforehand and she found us all getting butthurt about aliens turning her into their queen more than a little funny. Bear in mind she played almost exactly what she is like in personality. Therefore, the idea of anyone doing something she didn't want was hilarious to her.
:Now that I ask her about it. "I wanted to be the Princess for once."
:Which tbh is the best answer you're all gonna get.

The combat is more than bloody, they swarm us, we set to it, shells, flame, sharp objects, and general violence. Leaving only the King/Queen/Captain we have no fucking idea what that is, but it's big, it's mean, and it isn't going to listen to diplomacy.

So. We are looking at a very big alien. It is looking at us. It's a lot like a carnifex. There is a feeling like a pulse in reality. Metal objects grow lighter. Spent shell casings float up from the deck. Angus rolls lowest and his eyes go black. The alien speaks through him.
:"You have not beaten us yet. We came to this earth and slept until life grew, life which we could use to outbreed the heathens on our homeworld. Life such as this broodmother"
(Cruella's player puts down her glass of wine and thumps the DM)
:"this excellent broodmare?"
(She hits him harder)
:"this lovely specimen"
(she mulls it over and nods. This is about the only time I have ever seen DM look scared)
:"We blunted your magic, your resources, but the device did not work as planned, in another hundred years or so when your population hit seven billion or so we would have emerged and the breeding and killing would have been sweet. Now I shall simply settle for scouring this earth."

He hits a switch on Cruelllas pod and legs it.

There's no dilemma, we are not leaving her in that thing, so we break her out of it. She is back in character, and her character is pissed.

If this isn't clear for anyone, what the alien is saying through puppet Angus is that in our world, I.e. not britbongsteros, the world of 4chan and double downs, we have no magic or similar because they are there, at the North Pole, waiting until we as a species are ready for harvest.

We pursue the alien. Thanking him for his exposition, it's now time to kill him. He hasn't gone far and Cruella (her modesty covered by my overcoat) scents him and follows at a sprint. She must have been getting bonuses to rolls because she slices and dices down the halls to the bridge. Where the alien is doing... something to the controls. He is setting a course? To a small nearby red planet? (Yes they are Martians).

The combined efforts of the party ensure he doesn't, then with the thing put down. There's an ominous and familiar beep. The same as the aliens on the ice made.

The beep of self destruct.

:''>Time to go.''

We leg it. The way back isn't hard to find (follow the bodies mostly) and coming to the door, we are pleased to find it open (thanks DM), we proceed up the chunnel and out to the CAT.

:''>KATHOOOOOM''

The ship goes up and we are thrown to the ground, the Alien that followed us isn't. It's bloodied from our fight on the bridge but not as dead as we thought. It makes straight for me and sticks a talon through my (mechanical) shoulder as the rest of the party make for the creature to bash/thermic lance/stab/chainsaw it, Cruella goes for the harpoon gun.

It has me say:
:"I sent a signal to Mars. They won't be long..."
Cruella lays the gun. Aims.
:"Get away from him you bitch. No, I'm his bitch, well really he's mine but... no, look fuck you ok?"
The harpoon is more than enough to finish the thing off.

We take the head and CAT back to the coast, board the Intrepid, and make for London for tea and medals.

===The "Beach" Episode===
So. Aboard the Intrepid we were able to Taxidermy the head of the Alien. Our first order of business is to explain to the Privy Council what the fuck just happened, and while Sir Richard Bacon and Sir David Attenborough examine the thing and Sir Patrick [Cyborg murder body] Moore examines Mars anew, we are sent on our way.

The rest of the party all have specific stuff they want to do. The Navvie also has something specific.
:"I want to get drunk and fuck. Who wants to come?"

:"Angus?"
:>DM: Roll to see how your sheep infection is doing please
:"Umm no count me out."

:"Bard?"
:"Sex? Never heard of it. I'm going to [have my adventure]."

:"Aldous?"
:Cruella: "We are but not while you guys watch. We will see you later."

:"Umm ok, wizard?"
:"Wait aren't I married? No I... I could come but not touch I guess..."

:''>To Soho we go''
So a wizard and a Navvie walk into a whorehouse.

The Navvie disappears upstairs. Thudding, screaming and general happy large man noises can be heard. The wizard gets into a game. Of roulette.

:>Roulette balls are steel aren't they?
:>Aren't I able to control steel?

Amazingly enough, the roulette table is rigged, and the local lowlives are extremely unimpressed when a Scotsman in a dress rigs it the other way.

Murderously unimpressed.

They pick up the wizard, it would have been better if they had drawn knives at least that would have been easier. I should add by the time wizard has won the pot, he's quite pissed (drunk). Like very. He would have trouble summoning a pair of scissors let alone a chainsaw.

His manly screams of Heeeeeeeeellllllllp are heard by the Navvie upstairs however.

Now the Navvie is a simple man, he likes pies, stout, and round bubble butts. He takes a direct approach.

:>My buddy downstairs is in trouble.
:>I am upstairs
:>Stairs will waste time

So stark naked, he leaps from bed, takes his hammer, and slams it into the wooden floor, down comes a huge naked man and a bed with four PAWGs on it.

The bar brawl that followed sees the Peelers called (early form of police to Ameri-nons) and rather than take them on and injure officers of the law, they retreat upstairs, and as there is a covered wagon below, leap for it, a naked huge man with a hammer and a scrawny drunk Scot with a bag of money. We will pause their tale there as this is where they enter another.

So we know that Cruella acquired a bastard sword some time ago. It started talking to her and her to it not long after. They mostly talk about their favourite things, blood and violence. She likes those and it likes those.

She acquired the sword as one does, in a shop, she saw the thing and liked it.

She wants to learn more about it, so we take it to the royal armouries to have it examined. (Her and I)
After some pondering the dwarves there get very very excited

:>It's [[Excalibur]]

They persuade her to part with it for a few hours, to examine it.

She and I spend a very pleasant few hours in fade to black. We return,
:"Yeah... We got robbed last night... Only one item missing and it's"
:>Cruella broke the poor bastard's nose and we go to look for it. In London. A needle in haystack made of smaller haystacks

We set off, Cruella's [spider sense] leads us to Soho and we pause there.

:''>Aldous needs pipe tobacco''
While we are in Soho, I spot a tobacconists, and in the window, is my brand of pipe tobacco. I know that a local tobacconist is an excellent source of gossip so Cruella condescends to let us go in, we bump into a passerby on the way in but successfully purchase a kilo of good dwarven smoke, our gossip plan fails however, then Cruella realizes her bracelet is gone.

That guy we bumped into is still out in the street, he must be a really really shit pick pocket if...

He spots us, and turns to run, he is stopped in his tracks by a huge naked man and a scrawny Scot with a bag of money landing on him.

(They missed the wagon)
So while they apologize to the poor guy, we run to them, the police are starting to run out of the building. We ask the Navvie to pick up the thief and the four of us (plus squashed thief) run the fuck away.

:"For gods sake man, put some clothes on."
We duck into an alleyway and the Navvie puts the thief down.
:"I want your boots, your clothes, and by the way, have you heard anything about any swords?"
The poor bastard tries to get naked, returns Cruella's bracelet, and explain to us that a local "legitimate businessman" - John Borisson is looking after a very important sword shaped package until it can be shipped to France tomorrow.

This is where the story of the four of us pauses.

Rewind.

:Bard: "Guys, I don't really do much do I?"
:"You play the bagpipes and kick anything that gets too close?"
:"Yeah, but that's combat Barding. I want to... I want to play for my public."
:"You're in London, that famous home of bagpipes and Scottishness, but ok..."
:"Exactly, I will play my through the city, I will busk, I will play for the poor and rich alike, I will bring the joy of music to all!"

It turns out playing the bagpipes in London in Britbongsteros is not exactly popular, he gets thrown out of Trafalgar Square, punted out of the inns of court, starts a brawl in the Royal Society, and a riot in the Globe.

The bard heads for Soho.

He is approached in Soho by some rough looking men.
:"Our boss really likes bagpipes, come play for him! Tonight you shall play at the home of Borrisson, John Borrisson."
:"Ooh ok!"

And now we pause.

:''>Angus does science.''

Angus decides to get his Sheep Transmitted Disease cured.

(Angus crit failed an "I roll to seduce a female centaur" (dumb bastard) and fucked a sheep instead by accident back in Wales)

His research takes him to a doctor
:"Ah what the fuck is that!?"
A barber surgeon
:"What the flying fuck is that!?"
And finally another less reputable doctor.
:"There is an eastern remedy that might help, you'll need to acquire some components for me though"

:''>Gives list''

:"Where am I going to find 'tears of a Phoenix killed on the second Tuesday of the month?'"
:"I dunno, try John Borrison in Soho, what he sells isn't always of the best provenance, but if he doesn't have it, he can get it..."

:''>Who the fuck is John Borrison?''
Well we know he lives in Soho, he has an emporium of well known whores, (referred to as "Boris Bikes" because amazingly "everyone has had a ride") and a mop of unruly straw coloured hair.

:>You're setting us up to fight "Boris Johnson" DM...

So we return to the party of four (Cruella, wizard- still pissed by the way, Navvie - no longer naked, and myself who is surrounded by a cloud of most excellent and noxious smoke).

The party of four wait for dusk and assemble outside of the city mansion of Mr. Borrison, we have a look around. It's got highwalls and guards.

We retire to a nearby tavern (the Wizard would rather be drunk than hungover) to discuss.

:''>Topic 1''
Do we want to kill Mr. Borrison?

Probably not. As far as we know he's a criminal but not actually bad as such.
:>How do we get in and get out with the sword?

As we ponder. Suddenly, [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAbzlj3nf4E The Seeker by The Who] on the bagpipes, and its coming from Borrison's house.

It's worth noting that the parties heavy weaponry (the gatling and the flamethrower) isn't being carted around with us.

So we skip now to Angus. He has been following the crudely drawn directions to John Borrisson's shop, house, warehouse and mansion (combined). He has been told to get there, and ask for the Apothecary.

He arrives and approaches the shop (i.e. the south side of the building).

The guard says (in awful cockney which again I'm not going to try)

:"Nah the Ceildh (he pronounces it "Celd ay") is on the other side. Go round mate."
Angus looks shy, Angus says
:"I'm actually here to see... The Apothecary..."
The guard looks him up and down,
:"Hahaha what did you fuck?"
Angus goes as red as an orc can and heads into the shop.

He gives the apothecary (actually a very happy looking dryad) the list,
:"Fucked a sheep did we?"
:"HOW DO YOU PEOPLE ALL KNOW THIS?"
:>DM: Angus your balls sure are sore... you sure you want to get pissed off at the only guy who might be able to help?
:"I mean... yes I would like some ointment please."

The apothecary is rummaging through shelves, humming to himself, suddenly Angus stands bolt upright.
:"I hear... I hear bagpipes!"
:"Oh yeah, something the boss is up to, anyway look, this potion, there might be some side effects..."

Meanwhile, upstairs,

The bard is in his element, it turns out John Borrison isn't actually human, he has a thatch of straw for hair, not straw coloured.

(I mean he's an Ent)

The bard is on a table, piping to a court of criminals, they do their best to dance as the great tree claps and belches his joy.

The bard keeps rolling performance checks and he's doing beautifully.

He's well into [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rjbrqcQ5Sw Highland Laddie] having already played Dashing White Sergeant and others. The Bard is over the moon.

About 1:40 in the video. The great stained glass window at the east side of the hall shatters.
:"GIVE ME BACK MY SWORD YOU FUCK."

:''>Rewind''

So the four of us are down the side of the building, we reason that shock and awe is our best tactic, we don't know if it's the bard inside, but he probably needs rescuing, therefore we decide to go full on Sir Lancelot and crash the party.

We acquire some rope, easily get up the side of the building (Cruella) and then abseil through the glass.

As Cruella shouts
:"GIVE ME BACK MY SWORD YOU FUCK"
The bard stops playing.

:''>Change channel''

Downstairs, Angus is handed the ointment.

:Angus: "I'm gonna apply it now, my nads are on fire here."
:>Angus roll a D20 please.
The DM consults a list. Please note that the DM checking a list is really, really bad. He starts laughing. That's even worse.

:''>Upstairs''

There's a Mexican stand off developing, the entire room (although not well armed), vs the four of us with the bard in the middle.

It's looking bad.

Cruella stops shouting, instead she looks at John Borrison, straight in the eyes and says
:"You have something of mine. Right next to you in fact. In that chest. I want it back."
:"Why should I... (there is a large amount of pistols leveled at us by the party goers) give it to you?

Things get tense. DM has us rolling dice to see whose nerve breaks first. Us VS them.

Suddenly, the door at the North end of the hall is kicked down.

:''>Downstairs.''

:DM: "Yeah Angus... mate... look... your balls. They're actually... they're on fire..."
:Angus's player: "Yeah I know they are, fucking sheep..."
:DM: "No Angus, I mean, On. Fire."
Angus goes into a panic, screaming for water, everything in the apothecarion is either explosive or probably bad. Angus is directed upstairs, fanning his crotch with his kilt, he charges blindly, kicking down a door.

Angus bursts into the hall.

He's crotch is on fire, his kilt being flapped from nose to thigh rapidly. He is a true Scotsman and his Scotsman is wreathed in blue flame.

Angus runs straight through the middle of us, as he runs he spots an open cask of beer, and dunks his crotch.

:''>Best. Thing. Ever.''

John Borrison is the first one to start laughing. He's also the first one to lower his weapons.
:"Fine, have the sword, that was the best thing I've ever seen."
Later, as we dance, party and ceildh, I ask Angus something.
:"Alright, I understand why the Bard was here, I know why we were here, and but why were you here?"
:"Not. One. Fucking. Word. Not. One. Fucking. Word. Aldous."

And that Anon, was our beach episode.

We all got drunk, Angus got a bucket of ice, Cruella cuddled her sword.

===1,001 Britbongsteros Nights===
We wake up the next morning in various states of undress and very, very hungover, as we leave, the Bard asks
:"Hey John Borrison, who was coming for the sword today anyway?"
:"Some chick called Joan Dark."
:"Do you mean D'arc?"
:"Yeah close enough."
:"Mind if we stay for a bit?"

So we decide to settle in and wait. Our new-tree-friend seems cool with the idea. We expect that one of three things may happen:
:1. John Borrison will double cross us.
:2. Joan will get pissed off, and John Borrison will double cross us.
:3. Joan will understand that the deal is off, leave, then John Borrison will double cross us,

(the Purple Penguin is very trusting)

So naturally, we wait, she's meant to arrive at noon, and in comes one plate mail clad chick (subtle of course) and half a dozen adventurer looking types.

Joan removes her helmet.

What happens next may seem surprising to many Americans, but if you're British, this is actually very common.

Joan is a faerie, and therefore a posh person.

Cruella is a faerie and also a posh person.

:''>They went to school together.''

There are various extremely silly sounding girly noises, a very odd looking handshake, and much cheek kissing.

The Navvie mutters to me under his breath
:"If only they had bigger butts, this would be amazing..."

The Wizard is of the opinion that this is "The Old Fay Network" and therefore bad, but also curious as to what is going on.

The girls are asking after the health of various ponies, servants, and are about to start swapping recipes when John Borrison does the tree version of coughing (shakes his leaves).
:"Ladies?"

They ignore him.

Joan asks about Paris and the clownleechspidersnake things, yes that was us,

The boys are eying the French Adventurers, and they us, there's a general air of "Shouldn't we really be fighting now?"

Things don't seem to be going that way, John Borrison doesn't seem to mind. Instead we decide to go for lunch.

We leave with the girls walking out arm in arm followed by two single files of gentlemen watching each other very closely.

I just want to add here that the French Bard was wearing a stripey jumper, a beret and was carrying an accordion.

We go to a tavern. The DM is greatly enjoying describing what is essentially everyone's double.

We are a bit weirded out.

Cruella is quite happily nattering to other Cruella when she asks
:"So what about the sword?"
and things get a bit frostier. A lot frostier.
:Cruella: "It's my sword, and that's it."
:Joan: "Couldn't you just lend it to us?"
:"What do you want it for?"
:"I shouldn't really tell you but we were going to..."

The short, angry looking Frenchwoman wearing full plate and carrying what looks a lot like a rotary flail nudges Joan and grunts.

The largest of the party, an enormous guy with a big beard and an axe shifts, a smaller kobold type thing stops making ice cubes with device on its back and looks a lot more threatening. A slice of bread levitates while a nun has her cigarette lit by Angus (Angus you will fuck anything you beautiful bastard).

Cruella and Joan seem oblivious to all this, however the rest of the party naturally distrusts what is our true enemy (the French of course).

Cruella is happily breaching the official secrets act when we decide enough is enough,
:"And the Aliens wanted me to be a Queen! I've always wanted kids..."

:''>Time to go...''

So we begin to extricate her, the French let us go, for now...

Angus waves goodbye to the Nun, and Cruella looks distinctly annoyed to have the reunion cut short.

We head off, it's time to visit the Privy Council. First up is a meeting with Sir Patrick (Cyborg) Moore.

:>Who is...

Seriously you're gonna want to Google this.

Sir Patrick (Xbawkshueg terminator) Moore has been analyzing Mars, he has worked tirelessly to build a new telescope, and from the Royal Observatory at Grenwich has become aware of not only canals on Mars, but other alien looking constructions, cities? He is keeping the area under observation.

Meanwhile Sir Hobart's new inventions have reached production, not only is Britbongsteros frantically building battleships, but we are also building Landcruisers, lots of them. We have a feeling the Germans might be up to something similar...

Finally, we meet with Richard III, Blackadder, and co.

Those Arabians from earlier (like two stories ago) have been asked that a trade delegation go to Arabia with them, this is so that we might see the properties off this magical oil stuff that they're producing. We are being sent instead. The Arabians have drilling technology that we want, and we are going to steal it. It is believed by the Wizards of Aberdeen that massive untapped reserves of this stuff lie off the coast of Scotland, enough that we could fuel a million ships and landcruisers and not even make a dent (and also not have supply lines that go across half the world and either around France or around all of Africa).

We also are informed that a party of French adventurers have recently visited London and were followed (shit) and were last seen leaving on a boat bound for Araby (shit shit shit).

We are reminded that in Arabia, the place is full of genies, djinn, sand, camels, and also Orrance of Arabia, a Brit who went native and is a fervent activist for Arabia to be left to its own devices without western powers attempting to exploit them.

The local political climate in Araby is like dancing on a volcano, each sultanate has started grabbing land, and foreign "advisers" are everywhere, as each foreign power supports a different Sultan in the hope that if war breaks out, theirs will end up on top.

As a "trade mission" we are classed as one of those very same foreign advisers. Meaning we are packed aboard our very own battleship.
:>Why are you using a battleship?
:>Show of force, it's history.
The HMS Dreadnowt is the pride of the shipyards of Liverpool, the finest in Dwarven Engineering and she is the equal of the Brunmigi at the least.

The voyage of the Dreadnowt takes us through the straights of Gibraltar, with a brief stop off in Gib.

Gibraltar. The Rock. (It was called the Rock before anyone else was).

It's a British trade port, at the gates of the med, a haven of intrigue and enigma, a place where deals are made, illicit cargoes shipped, a veritable thieves kingdom and all with the sanction of the crown. The marines who police the place don't mind anything as long as you don't touch a British subject or insult the crown.

Regrettably, our reputation proceeds us, as did an albatross.

Two in fact.

The first one no one ever really saw, the second was enthusiastically shot down by the local Governor - S.T. Coleridge. When his chef was preparing it for dinner, he found in a little canister on its leg, "LANDCRUISER PLANS PART 2 of 2"

So on the reasoning that someone, somewhere in Gib is enthusiastically waiting for part 2 of their plans, that German/French/Belgian/Russian/Spanish/Foreign bastard is out there with half the plans to our tanks.

Obviously, we want them back.

So obviously, that the bard fires into [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXOhw1ELZK8 Sabaton, Back in Control] as we start to ponder.

We establish what we know as we sit in the very comfortable officer's mess on the Dreadnowt.

We know that the Albatross flew from somewhere in the UK, and was going to wherever its mate was (that's how they work in Britbongsteros, ok?) and it would take the most direct route, it was approaching Gib overland, and flew almost to the middle of the place. It seems likely that whoever was waiting for it, would position the thing's mate somewhere high up, and exposed, allowing for the Albatross to spot the thing.

Hmm... high up... exposed... Gibraltar...

So, this can only mean one thing. Somewhere on the rock is an albatross and most likely our spy.

We set off and start to nose around.

It's quite a climb, but searching around demonstrates several things: 1. That this is quite a popular spot for albatross communication, 2. There are a fuck of a lot of shifty looking characters up here. Grabbing them at random probably isn't going to work either.

Have some music [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAbzlj3nf4E The Who, the Seeker]

We do some more thinking,

The parties suggestions go along the lines of:

:Bard: "I play the German National Anthem and we see who salutes. Then we murder them."
:Navvie: "Pub?"
:Angus: "We could try and offer money? Or failing that just burn everyone."
:Wizard: "Well thinking about it, the carrier case on the albatross should have a unique insignia, but they won't have been dumb enough to keep the other with a matching pair, so that idea is useless."
:Aldous: "We could always say we found the 2nd bit, and offer it up, see who comes to try and get it."
:Cruella: "Why aren't we stabbing everyone?"

We let it be known to some double agents that we have found the plans and that we will be at the drinking establishment known as "The Maltese Falcon"

What didn't occur to us, was that just about every foreign power with a hand in Gib, was going to want those plans. So what shows up, is basically every foreign agent and backstabber on the peninsula.
:"Damn what are we going to do with them all?"
:"Aren't they all enemies of the crown anyway?"

:''>Murdered 'em all and looted their dead bodies''

Thing is, the plans weren't there. Or at least not that we could find. We needed a clue. We'd probably just annihilated the lot of our clues however.
:''>The Purple Penguin is running out of options, we don't want to go back empty handed and say "well we probably got the bastard"''

So, with our limited options, we are grateful (cheers DM) when we apologize to the barkeep and start hauling bodies out of the place, that's when a group of "Mysterious trenchcoated figures" run off into the night.

Cruella is up onto the roof tops, the Navvies lumbers after them, and we all do our best to keep pace.

So the rooftop chase occurs, as does the street level one.

I'm not even going to tell you what this is, every anon must click it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OO-ZGP68-3w (or if this gets capped, manually type it into Google)

We pursue them, down lanes, alleys, twisting, turning, we aren't ready to take shots at them, but we are sorely tempted, there's three of them, we can take them if we catch them, we can...

Cruella is quite useful at times, as you may have noticed, but even she rolls a one occasionally, she attempts to leap in front of them, she instead flies into the roof of a shed and is out for the count for time being.

The Navvie has that weird lumber that teen horror movies do, if you look at him, not fast, but if you look away, he's suddenly teleported. He knocks them over and as we catch up, we start to restrain and attempt to interrogate them.

We establish that these (spies) sold the first part to the Germans, the Germans who are leaving on a boat, tonight.

So we book it down to the harbour, there is boat already pulling out.
:''>How do we stop this tug sized boat?''

We for once follow one of the bards ideas, we grab a speedboat and ram the fucker.

Violence occurs, a lot, someone swallows what looks a lot like an albatross message case.
:"HAHAH YOU WILL NEVER GET IT!"
Cruella resolves the issue with a knife and a little bit of cruelty (she guts him) we have the plans.

Things wrapped up in Gib fairly quickly after this, both parts of the plans now in the safe keeping of Governor S. T. Coleridge (who is very pleased to have shot the albatross, and has had a little pendant made of its foot to celebrate his act of violence which was so beneficial to the crown. He wears said pendant about his neck).

We re-board the Dreadnowt and set sail. Excited to be heading to Araby. I should really explain what Araby takes in geographically: (It extends westward all the way to Tripoli, please feel free to imagine the Indiana Jones aeroplane red line thing at this point). Where we are going is Port Said, if you're particularly geographically inept, it's near Alexandria.

The voyage through the rest of the med is mostly uneventful, Cruella takes up sunbathing, gets sunburnt, Angus spends a lot of happy times down in the engine room with the mostly Scottish engineers, Navvie and I take up fishing (an extreme sport in Britbongsteros) and the bard learns some new songs.

At this point, we have dinner around the captains table most evenings, and we don't usually act out the discussions, but we thought it'd be fun to have dinner in character, with DM as captain.

What I mean is we had a dinner party and got hammered, with everyone pretending to be their characters (again if anyone cares, pate and melba toast to start, thai green curry (mine) and alcohol for dessert).

:>Why should I care?

The discussions in character were a lot of fun, I can't remember much, but some time after the main course was finished, Cruella asks
:"Captain DM, we are going to the Caliphate, I know from my geography at school that the women there have to wear Bhurkhas. I'm not wearing one of those."

Now normally an issue like this we wouldn't give a shit about. However, it was an interesting enough issue that we looked to the DM).
:Captain DM: "Well Lady Cruella, I am given to understand that you are the [the following word was so weighted it should have fallen through the hull and sunk the ship] "companion" of Sir Aldous, as a "taken" woman, even of a different culture and maintaining different sensibilities to those of the land you are visiting, I would suggest it is wise to take up those sensibilities when you are there, you do not, for example, wish to be stoned. This holds true for all of you and I would suggest that when in the lands of the Caliphate, you observe their rules, at least in public. It is just good sense. No drinking for example, the Caliphate also has a very low opinion of [weighted again] those "peau verde" [green skin], meaning our comrade from Dundee (he means Angus) would be wise to take the guise of a slave."
:''>Angus finds this hilarious. Cruella still looks extremely unimpressed.''
:Cruella: "You mean I'm going to have to wear a sack? tch, no woman of my station would be seen dead in such a thing."
:Captain DM: "My lady [tips captains hat], when you visited the North Pole, did you not dress warmly? The environment here is different, but equally as dangerous."
:''>She mulls this over, and nods.''
:Cruella: "Congratulations Angus, you just got promoted to my eunuch. You can carry my stuff."

Cruella seems satisfied with this explanation and sets about considering options for her outfit. This includes at some point the statement
:"It's not a Burhka, I'm a ninja."
:''>No Godzilla, we actually let her off with this one.''

As discussed we head to Port Said, as we enter the port, we are amazed at the number of other foreign ships, British, German, French, a Spanish one, even some Russian, and what we learnt was a Chinese vessel. The courts of Araby are being subjected to an assault of the most diplomatic kind, but the guns of the battleships make it very clear that there is force behind it.

The Arabs, aided by Orrance's council, wish to set themselves up as oil producers, their oil is fantastically efficacious, and if each of the European powers had to come to them for it, they would grow very wealthy very quickly, however even with their Djinn and Roks, the Arabs could never prevent a real attempt at annexing the country, their only real hope is to dance on the edge of a knife, playing each power off against the other as no European power would risk their supplies of oil, or allow another competitor to get unrestricted access to the stuff.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhhDbaah9DQ Saxon, Crusader] <- what the bard, master of tact that he is, piped us into harbour with.

We discussed what our best options are, the Privy Council advised us that meeting Orrance first would be an idea as he is still notionally a servant of the crown, however we were warned that he has gone native.

:>Who is Orrance?
I appreciate I can't just tell you to google it, he's "Lawrence of Arabia" then go read some books. The Seven Pillars of Wisdom (which he wrote I might add) are worth the effort. At the least watch the film. Go on, we'll wait.

Orrance is currently in Cairo, (the Caliphate has two main civic centers, Baghdad and Cairo) and so we travel from Port Said to Cairo on horseback, I should add two things at this point.

IRL Cruella is very horsey, this made her very happy, she was also the only member of the party who had ANY skills that involved controlling or riding an animal, meaning she could (riding side saddle and wearing a Burkha) ride rings around us as we slowly dotted along after her.

It was also the first time we really came to understand where we were, as the great pyramids hove into view shining brilliantly in the sun, a Sphinx lazing in the shade of a dune, great Anubis had been enslaved by the Caliphate and was digging graves, one hundred at a time (he was about 75 feet tall so we could see him from a fair distance, he wasn't actually burying anyone either, just digging and refilling graves as busy work). Horus was chained on the banks of the Nile, forced to call the hour by expedient of hot iron bars being applied to his feet.

:>How are gods enslaved?

Remember we actually slaughtered a good number of gods ourselves, Britbongsteros is a place where you can find gods, and they are very powerful, so are the guns on a battleship. It might take an army of Saracen Cavalry to tie down one god, but if you're smart enough, and don't mind losing a whole lot of troops, you can do it.

:>We've captured another god! How shall we put them to work, bound to our will?
:>Well, ummm...
:>Eh....
:>Have them... erm... tell the time, I guess?
:>...
:>Abdul, you're a moron. All in favour
:>Aye!

Anon you're going to want to click this first https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8i1mI-P9Z3s

Orrance is visiting British officers at the Shepheard hotel. We'll find him there. Cairo is amazing, in the skies, Djinn and other creatures waft above us, there are literal ivory towers, but take your eyes off the poor, the downtrodden and filthy in the streets, and you'll find something missing from your pockets. A couple of the ships officers act as guides for us, they themselves having business at the Shepheard.

As we come closer to the Shepheard, we start to see more foreign faces in the crowd, hear languages from all across Europe, as Horus marks 11:00 am, we arrive at the Shepherd, our horses safely tied up, and left under the supervision of the hotel staff, a very large turbaned man remarks to me,
:"She is a fine one, how many camels is she worth?"
The entire party moves to grab Cruella, the fat man seeing what we are doing tucks his fingers into his belt and laughs uproariously,
:"You barbarians are fantastic, I meant the horse. This one here, she would do just fine for my niece."
:''>Cruella looks a tiny bit offended.''
:"You must also be very rich to afford a horse for your eunuch! Ah, I had one of these years ago! They get rowdy but they warm your belly just the same in the night!"
:''>Angus is... not entirely sure about this.''
:"I am Ismail, I trade in dates. Perhaps you will join me once you have conducted your business here? I will be in the local souk."
He shakes the Navvie by the hand.
:"You watch that short one. They are shifty little devils are they not?"

Ismail vanishes into the crowd. The Navvy opens his great paw. There is a small token in his palm, a token with the symbol of what the wizard identifies as Sekhmet on it.

So with this interesting little development put on ice for the moment, we head into the Shepheard. Now first things first, I know not all anons will have stayed at a hotel like this, but a ''good'' hotel somewhere like this will have a lot of different things on offer, including a barber, a tailor, and a concierge who knows all the best prostitutes (Source: experience). We are going to need clothes more suited to the climate, if (as we suspect) is likely, we'll be going into the desert.

We decide to meet Orrance first and see what the lay of the land is.

Orrance is easy to find, he's the only one in the hotel bar wearing native dress.

He's in the middle of arguing with two (other) British officers.

Orrance is deep in animated conversation,
:"Why not let the the Arabs be, why must we even consider this? The army and navy are overstretched as is, a friendly caliphate will be enough and with the trade this will generate, it will be beneficial for both nations. We might even gain a real ally in the region, something we have never had, and we certainly need those."
:"I say we simply annex and be done with it. The Germans can worry about it afterwards and the French can complain and then buy it from us if we let them!"
The other officer agrees with his friend. Orrance stands up and leaves in disgust. Running straight into us.
:"We..."
:"I know exactly why you're here and what you want. The Arabs have only one thing, and the Privy Council won't have sent you for any other reason. I'll have no truck with you."
and he barges straight past us.

We put in an order for some more deserty clothing (shorts, caps, etc) and decide to head to the Souk.

Now, it's worth mentioning here (mostly because I didn't explain it very well earlier) what we have is the Caliphate who nominally rule over the entire region, and then out in the desert there are the actual Arabs, i.e. Orrance's bros. The Caliphate view the oil as theirs, the Arabs actually live where the oil is, and are the ones who have developed the method to get the stuff out of the ground.

The UK is considering annexing the Arab regions (i.e. Saudi). Orrance is doing his level best to stop this.

Remember just because we're somewhere sandy, the people there aren't all the same.

We ask for directions to the Souk, and in the end are given one of the hotels employees to guide us (he looks to be about 12, his name is Ali). He leads us there, and asks us quite frankly,
:"Why do you want to go there Effendi? I know much nicer places."

We decide there's not much to be risked in telling him we want to meet Ismail. He has no idea who Ismail is. We describe him.

We half expect the kid to go pale, he doesn't, still not the foggiest. We decide against showing him the token.

:''>What is a Souk?''

Basically it's a market where people also congregate and usually drink coffee.

We ask Ali to take us where the coffee house is, it's a dark place, lots of hookahs and private booths, if you've never been to the middle east, think the Star Wars Cantina and you're not far off.

There's no sign of Ismail, we ask Ali if there is another one of these places nearby? No.

We show the guy behind the counter the token. He does go deathly pale. He ushers through some curtains into the backroom.

In the backroom, there's Ismail, looking as fat and cheerful as he did a little while ago, there's also half a dozen familiar faces, one stripey jumper, one accordion and one beret.

It's our French doubles.

Again.

Cruella is very happy about this, the rest of us are not.

Ismail ushers us in, lights the hookah, and starts to explain
:"I understand you all know each other! I have a favour I must ask of you all, I appreciate this meeting is surprise for some of you, but you (meaning us) I beg that you do me the courtesy of hearing me out. You will have seen the old gods in their debased condition as you came into the city, the old gods are not without followers, and it crushes us to see them used so. Sekhmet is still free, and we wish to keep her that way, in the hope that one day, the old gods will rise again. It is in the interests of both your countries that the caliphate cannot the goddess of war to use (that's Sekhmet) as it would make them far, far stronger."
Joan pitches in at this point.
:"This is why we wanted the sword (Excalibur), the caliphate cannot kill the old gods, they do not have the means, the sword is one of the few things that can outright kill them. Were the old gods slain, the caliphate would be weaker."
There are a lot of Egyptian gods and goddesses kicking about and the majority more usefully employed than the above mentioned, for example Sobek is used to regulate the tides and floods of the Nile (this is a big deal), and Sopdet to ensure good harvests every year, also FYI the Egyptians had a deity of lettuce and cocks - really.

Ismail is however horrified by this,
:"You want to kill them? No! Please! The old gods mean much to those of us left, they are symbols, without them, the caliphate is an absolute!"

We are not entirely sure what to do with this information. On the one hand, weakening the caliphate is probably a good thing, on the other, the followers of the old gods include the Arabs and they are very likely to be a source of revolt in the future, which may weaken or indeed overthrow the Caliphate.

(By the way this adventure took place around about the height of the Arab Spring, yup, we were considering...
:>Regime change in the middle east).

Joan can see our confusion and indeed reticence.
:"We are not asking you to make this choice now, but if the Caliphate learn of the sword and your bond to it, they will claim it for themselves, just... keep the thing safe and think about our offer."
Ismail is still horrified.
:"You may provide my brothers and I with arms but... this... this is too much. OUT, get out! You would insult the memory of my entire people and everything around which our hope still gathers, it is disgusting. OUT."
The French leave, likely not wanting to cause a diplomatic incident (and there are an awful lot of people in this market likely to be friendly to Ismail), we don't follow them.

Ismail beseeches us,
:"I heard you were hear and why, we cannot allow the Caliphate to become more powerful certainly, but I thought perhaps you could help us, even ensure Sekhmet remains free, the Arabs I know would thank you for it."

We need to think about this, we tell Ismail this, and leave. Perhaps it would be an idea to speak to try to speak to Orrance again.

Having left the Souk to return to Shepheard hotel, we suddenly realize our guide, (a 12 year old kid called Ali, whom we told to wait for us and ensured this with the promise of a guinea) is nowhere to be seen. Now anon may recall we had told him where we were going and who we wanted to see.

It doesn't seem likely that he'd have gone given how much a guinea would be worth. Unless he had a better offer or was in some kind of trouble.

The purple penguin likes kids. A lot. We feel obligated to look for him.

Remember Cairo is busy, labyrinthine, and confusing at the best of times. How on earth are we going to find him in all this sea of humanity and confusion?

We don't know how things work here, we initially suspect the French on general principles, but it seems unlikely. We also consider other possibilities. Slaves are a thing here, could he have been kidnapped?

:''>The ground shakes a little.''
:>Godzilla?
No. God, yes. Zilla, no.
:"Hey look! It's Ali!"
:"What's he doing? Why is he pissing on that statue and saying those weird things?"

It looks like little Ali was a follower of Babi (God of baboons - Google it) and he did have a better offer.

A huge form swings down from a spectral tree into the square. Think 75 feet of King Kong and you're not far off.

:>Where the fuck did that come from?
We have no idea. Looks like not all of the gods are enslaved.

In a plume of dust, he lands, shattering flagstones and crushing a good number of folk. As what sounds like sirens start (actually prayer calls that served the same purpose), he rises to his full height, beats his chest and looks at us.

We have about five seconds to consider our options:
:1. Leg it?
:2. Kill it?

Legging it will mean a whole lot of people will die before enough troops get here. If we run. It'll likely be enslaved. So what, the Egyptians have plenty gods of dongs?

2. Kill it. We have the only thing in Egypt that we know of that can kill the thing. Do we? It'll draw the interest of everyone in Egypt. Cruella might be disguised but the rest of us are pretty recognizable. We don't know how pissed off Ismail will be.

Now bear in mind that the DM has just explained options 1 and 2 above (along with his caveat of:
:"Or do whatever the fuck you want don't cry to me if you die? Oh and yes I'd love a beer"
he pops his beer and adds,
:"Just FYI for those of you who don't know about Babi, he is one of the many Egyptian gods of Cock (wiki it). You also have five seconds to choose. 1..."
:"Two... It takes a step towards you."
:"Three... it roars again."
:>Oh fuck it. Let's kill it.

I want to add at this stage that I blame the bard for everything.

:>Bard you're up. What are you gonna do?
:"I play an inspiring song!"
:>rollplz
:>It's a one.

:>DM: Ok you shoulder your pipes, take a deep breath and play [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_pTeDz4Zpk Aqua - Barbie girl]

The DM looks this up on his laptop and it plays along through the rest of the combat.

A further little note on weaponry. As you may have noticed we have what we like to call light kit where we leave the heavy weaponry -namely my shotgun and Angus's flamethrower, at our base of operations as these are very conspicuous. In these circumstances I will use pistols and Angus usually uses bad language and a revolver.

What Babi has going for him is some pretty decent agility and fuek hooge regard strength, we are suddenly reminded this thing is 75 odd feet tall. The Navvie has a good go at its ankles, I try and aim for hamstringing it. It's hard to tell but it looks like the wounds we are causing are slowly closing up. Cruella (Burka and all) unsheathes the sword from Angus's back (it being unlady like for her to carry it about) and gives the thing a good whack. It loses a toe. That doesn't seem to be growing back.

Babi definitely notices that and puts all of his attention into squashing the agile little gnat that just chopped his toe off.

The wizard has been busy, he hasn't summoned anything sharp for once, but instead slowly summons, link by link by link, anchor chains. They slowly flow outward from him, it's going to take a while before they reach Babi and do anything to him.

We try to distract him to let Cruella get enough time to land a blow and not get squashed. We are also worried that as she expands energy dodging, this thing is less likely to get tired before she does...

Angus decides to get closer. It's a baboon he reasons. A huge, God of alpha baboons. Therefore a show of dominance should work. He advances. He stands defiantly. Clears his throat, loudly, and spits on it.

We were just pleased he didn't try to fuck it. He does however get some of its attention. Enough that when he beats his chest and (has a go at) roaring he distracts Babi enough for Cruella to start climbing up his leg. Babi then beats his own chest and slowly, carefully, kicks Angus through a wall.

There is a piercing shriek. A shadow passes over us, then another.

Roks. The strike force of the caliphate. They dive bomb Babi, dropping huge nets, flexible, sticky and entangling.

His movements are slowed but similarly as is Cruellas ascent.

He decides he needs to get off the ground. He climbs a minaret, the party follows him to the base of the thing.

The Roks circle and dive bomb.

The bard finally finishes his first song and rolls again.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_N0cQJ2BPS0 Texas Hippie Coalition: "Turn It Up"]

There isn't much the rest of us can do as he ascends beyond shoot at his eyes or break into the tower and try to get to the top. The wizards chains snake up the thing and snag Babi by the ankle.

Babi is starting to realize he's fucked.

Cruella is on his shoulder. Excalibur in hand. Ready to go for the jugular.
:"I've never killed a God before. You know what this sword can do don't you?"
She shouts into his ear.

The great head turns to look at her. He strains at the nets. The Navvie and I break out onto the balcony, about level with his chin. The roks tear into his back.

Cruella continues:
:"Let go. Be a slave, or die. Now."

Those big dark eyes look very sad for a moment as a God contemplates his own mortality, or to become a slave of mortals.

The great ape lets go. Cruella makes the jump from him to us on the balcony. Just. He nearly flattens Angus and bard.

We watch as he is swarmed by Caliphate troops. Exuberant in having captured another God. We decided to leave before anyone notices the toe.

Hopefully Ismail (if we decide to favour him) won't be too annoyed by us making the best of weird circumstances. At least we didn't kill him.

We decide to retreat to the Shepheard to think. Hopefully before anyone thinks to ask us any awkward questions. We appear to be involved in local politics already but haven't burnt any bridges yet.

We retire to a quiet area in the Shepheard. We decide to check for eavesdroppers and spies (Angus and Cruella finding nothing).

We decide it is time to discuss our plan and position in this strange land.

There are a couple of key questions:
:1. Are the caliphate dicks?
:2. Do we care?
:3. Does Britain care?
:4. How do we use this to our advantage in getting whatever it is that we are here to steal?

:1. Well they aren't very nice to the old gods, but so what? They have different (not necessarily better or worse) customs.
:2. We at this point don't particularly mind. They haven't done anything to us, they aren't our allies and at least they have put all these random deities to work.
:3. Yes. A weak caliphate could be conquered by us. A new regime favourable to us would also be useful. We may not want the oil directly but we want to deny it to the rest of Europe.
:4. Ismail and his brothers include the Arabs. Those same Arabs who have what we want to steal. If we help overthrow or at least damage the caliphate, they should like us.

The bard makes the case for the purple penguin.

:"The people here are unhappy. They are poor. Dirty. Downtrodden. They have a caste system and no hope."
The rejoinder is:
:"Would changing who is on top alter this? Would British rule make it any better? They might be under the heel of our government but they would all equally be so."

A new regime especially sympathetic to us would be useful however...

:>What about the French?
Well what about them? Are they necessarily even on our side?

It seems wise then, to approach Orrance again, hopefully he won't just tell us to fuck off this time. He and a group of his most loyal followers have camped near the pyramids.

We get another guide (this one we are tempted to shoot on sight) and head toward the pyramids.

There is a cluster of bedouin tents and camels, meaning we're probably in the right place.

:>Camels
I just want to add, as an anon that spent some time in actual Arabia, and for those anons that haven't been near one. The camels of Britbongsteros are EXACTLY like real camels. They (unlike everything else) have not been turned up to 11.
:>Camels. Are. Dicks.

We approach the camp. We pass a herd of camels on our way in. One has a couple of spots on its hump. It gobs on Angus. Angus spits back. It bites Angus.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOJk0HW_hJw Whitesnake, is this love?]

Angus bites it back.

We separate the two, I lose a chunk of beard in the process.

As we approach the guards, they chuckle and and ask us what we want?
:"We are here to see Orrance."
(DM cannot do anything close to an Arabian accent without it sounding like Team America and I am not going to either)
:"He's not seeing anyone."
:''>We are slightly stumped by this.''
:"Why not?"
:"He's not here"
:"Oh."
:"Where is Orrance?"
:"He went to... wait a minute why should we tell you?"
This is actually an exceptionally good point. Why should they tell us?

We're not exactly well known, Orrance doesn't really like us anyway, so...
:''>The Navvie hands over the token of Sekhmet''
The guards have a look at it, adjust their thawbs. Ponder it.
:"What are we meant to do with this thing? I'll give you half a dinari for it? It's kinda nice."
We've killed gods, queens, necromancers, and now, we are absolutely stumped by some chaps wearing bed sheets.

By the clock (i.e. Horus) it's getting toward the late afternoon, in the heat things shimmer in the distance, the stark contrast of sand and sky makes it hard to concentrate.

This shouldn't be such an issue, but (and the DM is punishing us for being dim I think) it is.
:"Will he be back tonight. Can we wait for him?"
They tell us we can, and we settle into as much shade as we can find. We get a useful opportunity to observe the Arabs as they camp, most remain in tents, others tend to animals, they are nomadic so it seems, or at least these are.

What they definitely do not seem like, is a technological people. They do however have a seeming mastery of Djinn, camels (more threatening than you'd think), and that Sphinx we saw earlier seems to be something to do with them as well.

Orrance arrives about sunset, looking very tired. He spots us, and directs his camel in our direction.
:"What on earth do you lot want? I thought I told you all to bugger off last time."

No one actually seems to have thought about what we were going to say, or how we were going to convince him other than to tell us to get lost. We would rather avoid that and so the Navvie decides to have a go at convincing him.

The Navvie speaks. He isn't the most social of characters but he is sincere. That is actually quite useful.
:"If you want us to help, show us why we should? There is the political situation here, which you are obviously involved in, somehow, and the situation in Arabia. Why should we help you and why should we go to the effort of trying to without knowing why?"

Orrance mulls this over and decides this actually makes a fair amount of sense. He might have gone native but he is still British and a servant of the crown.
:"Alright. Come to my tent, we can discuss there."

So under the high moon, pyramids casting long angular shadows on silver sand, we join him.

We know Orrance is pro Arab, and the Arabs are big fans of the old gods as far as we know. Therefore the (OOC) decision is made not to bring up Excalibur with him. The issue is, that we had that discussion in front of the DM.

So when we sit down, who is serving tea? It's little Ali, the monkey summoning bastard from earlier.

:''>fuck you DM''

Ali whispers to Orrance.
:"So I hear you have Excalibur with you..."

Well then, we might as well own up. Yes. Yes we do.

Cruella looks ready to decapitate anyone who tries to take it off her, Orrance just sits and smiles.

:"You know just how much the Caliphate would want that? They'd rather the old gods were dead than serving as essentially unkillable symbols to those who might resist them. If I were you, I would keep it out of their hands. However, if you have brought that thing with you, you might as well do me a favour and I might do one for you. Tell me what you want first..."

:>We explain the following:
:1. We have nothing against the Arabs. (Not entirely true, we want to steal their shit)
:2. Britain wants a weak caliphate, but also access to the oil. (We do not mention we want to steal the process of extracting it, whatever it is, just learn where it comes from)
:3. The French support the Caliphate in wanting the old gods dead.

:>Conclusion: It looks like we want to work with Ismail and co., or at least weaken the caliphate, either through stealing stuff, helping the Arabs and old Gods, or both.

:>What does Orrance want?
It appears the Caliphate have found something under one of the pyramids. Something they believe could sap the magic from the old gods and the world itself. Somehow that sounds really familiar.

Orrance knows we solve problems and are very good at covert(ish) ops.

Therefore, whatever it is, he wants it wrecked.

Also, have my favourite maiden song [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwLtyvGdNbc Iron Maiden - The Clansman]

Orrance has a plan, he and some picked men will create a distraction opposite the pyramid, meanwhile the rest of us (disguised as locals as best we can) just trot down into the dig site and wreck shit. Simple. Possibly.

So, borrowing some native outfits (thaubs) and camels (Angus is given one that looks really, really familiar, it has some spots on the hump) we set off into the night. Given the possibility we might murder Ali, we are pleased to meet our new guide, who doesn't really do much other than point our way.

We wait behind some dunes. Well most of us do. Angus and the camel seem to have made friends and are sharing belts from his hip flask.

We wait.

Now you all know what a sphinx is I assume. A djinn in Britbongsteros looks like a genie. Male or female, and magical in some way.

We are very impressed to see the sphinx in the distance. Things get more exciting as a fireball shoots over the thing's head, the sphinx replies violently, as do the other djinn, there is a sheet of lightning, it starts to rain amphibians and generally things are very pyrotechnic.

The DM hints (via guide - who will remain with the camels) that this might be our distraction...

While the apocalyptic (pretend) battle thunders in the distance, we enter the dig site. There don't seem to be any people around the entrance, but there is the usual fare of torches on pillars and scarabs carved on things.

In one room we pass through what looks like a very large stone block has landed on a huge quantity of jam which has dried into the floor.

We consider this.

We suddenly realize this is a trap which has been triggered and is what happens if you drop a big stone block on a lot of people.

We reason we are unlikely to walk into anything that hasn't already been triggered, but it is a weird feeling walking through another party's dungeon if you see what I mean.

It's only I think about that last sentence do I realize we actually saw a "rocks fall and everyone dies" and survived.

There are some other signs of old violence. None of it essentially creepy, just interesting. Missing statues surrounded by bullet holes in walls (as though they had come to life and been shot at) a very large pit, crossed by what seems to be an invisible bridge (actually a very smart optical illusion), but now it has warning signs, a rope, and someone has helpfully covered the bridge with sand.

The feeling of someone else's dungeon intensifies as we descend lower. We can no longer hear the fight above us, but we can definitely hear one in front of us.

There is gunfire and something heavier, a rhythmic heavy thudding, which is building to a pulsing. We get closer. Readying ourselves. We reckon whatever it is, it is around the next corner. That's when we hear it. That fateful fucking sound.
:>Accordion music
What is round the corner?

The room is large. As big as Westminster Abbey, seven great pillars within, some standing, some not. The firefight is intense as from the opposite side of the room flow a quantity of shadowy creatures we can't quite make out, they're too big to be human. On one side of the room are a large number of caliphate troops with some very recognizably German uniforms amongst them. In the center of the room sits a weird looking eldritch device, with a great big toe sitting in the middle of an actinic blue field (it's Babi's toe). On the other side of the device are a group of six recognizably French adventurers, including one playing the accordion. It seems like the French interrupted the Germans while whatever the fuck the other things are have crashed the party.

:>What would Purple Penguin do?

The shadowy things seem to be slaughtering the Caliphate troops with what look like glowing swords and... whips? We can't really tell. They are advancing on the French too. The accordion playing stops as the French bard is split in two from forehead to groin.

The purple penguin doesn't like death, but it also hates accordion music. However, we join in on the side of humanity. Something tells us what ever the other things are, they are probably not nuns.

A new music replaces the accordion. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMyMS-p9YW0 Iron Maiden- The Trooper (HD with Lyrics)]

I should really describe the rest of the French Party

:Joan D'arc is easy enough.
:The short angry dwarf woman with a rotary flail.
:A nun who seems to be able to levitate things.
:A kobold with an ice gun,
:A navvie type who is a big lumberjack with an axe,
:The now deceased stripey jumper-ed accordion playing beret-ed bard.

By the time we start to engage, moving directly between the two parties (Germans and French), we are starting to see the critters a bit more clearly. They sure don't look human. Six limbs, big ridged heads with crests like a triceratops, if you squint a bit they... aliens. Bastard sodding aliens. A different type than our friends at the North Pole, but similar enough in the same way you can tell a gorilla and a chimp are cousins.

We note as we move to the center of the room that there are big thick iron clad pipes running from the machine with the toe through to where the aliens are coming from.

We don't concentrate on the "why?" At this stage. More the fuckingkillthemall!

Like the ones we met earlier, we discover they respond well to being shot, stabbed, and various other things. The Germans are falling and the French are losing ground, the one with the axe disappearing into a pile of aliens, we haven't seen the nun in a bit either.

The fight with the aliens is intense. The the French are not left with many of their original party, and there's scant few Germans left. The six of us are relatively unharmed barring some minor injuries (suck it we are PCs!). We look out on the still crackling pile of bodies and then back at the toe. Someone has some explaining to do.

We try to tend to the wounds of those still alive. There are not many. Joan is one of them. We ask her
:"What were you doing here?"
:"We tried to stop them, they used the toe to open..." She falls unconscious. The kobold follows on for her.
:"There is something down here that could alter the balance of power in the world, we came to try to take it, or at least destroy what was down here."
:"And we," the leader of the Germans, a huge man of a bear, or bear of a man, take your pick he's half and half, "had things entirely under control."
He continues
:"We knew you had accessed something similar at the north pole" (again I'm not even going to try a German accent) "and with the consent of the Caliphate, we sought to open what was here. We have done so. We will claim what lies within."
He has been looking around the room, and is starting to realize we may not outnumber him, we could definitely stop him doing anything we didn't want.

Obviously we need to stop whatever is down that hallway or who knows what will spill out.

We can't really leave the Germans alive with the French, there aren't enough of the latter to subdue the former. We could just kill them, which the purple penguin would not approve of. We could also try to take them with us...

The caliphate troops are seemingly easily cowed, and we think we are safe to leave them behind. The four surviving Germans we decide are large enough a threat to be worth taking along.

We ask (regarding the toe) "Can we shut that thing off?"
The wizard looks it over, while we are told "not safely" and the wizard seems to agree with this.

We split up, a line of three of us, them in the middle and three behind and we proceed down the tunnel. We don't get far, (I should add that the doorway was what the toe seemed to be connected to, what is further on hasn't been investigated yet) before we come to what look like sarcophagi. Lots of them. Investigation reveals... That they are. The mummies within don't seem very inclined to try and eat us, but it does give us a moment to take stock.

:>What do we know about these aliens?
They seem markedly different to the ones we fought. They don't seem to exhibit any of the mind bullets or other weirdness. They just straight up murderise people. From what we remember (those of us who were under alien influence and from the recording) there were two warring species on Mars. The north pole ones and the others. These ones.

We got the impression the North Martians (as I'm going to call them) had been losing when they sent the ship that we found. We don't know if they were still losing now. Either way, Martians are dicks.

One other thing we realize, if there is a ship down here then it's been here a very long time too. We creep forward, half expecting to be rushed any second. Instead things seem very quiet. If we didn't know better this tomb might have been undisturbed for thousands of years.

This feels more than a little strange, nothing has gone "ULLA" nothing is floating. We do not trust this.

They aren't invisible, they aren't psychic, they were definitely here...

It's about then that one of the bears explodes.

Well he doesn't so much explode as... change... Into one of the aliens. His body shifting, bones cracking, skin splitting, a green glow emanating from his hand as the beginnings of an energy sword starts to form.

We don't wait for him to finish. We obliterate him.

:"What the hell is going on?"
The largest of the bears pokes the remains with his boot.
:"Poor Hans. I thought this might happen."
:"You what?"
:"The device down here is said to turn men into beings of power, we thought it meant the ability you discovered at the pole, to destroy or nullify magic. Clearly the translation was more literal than that. We opened the door and sent 40 natives in to search for traps. We are not nimble creatures as you can see. Shortly afterwards we were attacked from both sides... If this device can change men, then either it does so as an infection or the closer we get, the more dangerous it becomes... I would advise you watch your comrades closely."

We all, each and every one of us, have been scratched, cut, or have some form of open wound, we all are getting closer to whatever the thing is. Hans wasn't the most wounded, nor was he closest. He seemed fine until exploding.

We realize that the forty odd aliens we fought were the forty odd natives. We start to wonder, was it one cut finger? Someone must have powered the thing up... or... flipped it on somehow. We establish that the bears (I felt a bit bad calling them Germans) have no idea what we are looking for. So in the light of the torches we push on, past sarcophagus after sarcophagus.

Something new happens, we come to the first open sarcophagus. We examine it. It looks to have been broken open from within. Shiiiiiiiiiit.

From up ahead there is a thump. Then another. We take cover. The sarcophagus falls open. And seemingly oblivious, the mummy within begins to walk in the direction we are heading. Deeper into the tomb. Another breaks out next to the wizard and walks straight past him. It walks around Angus when he experimentally interposes himself in its path.

We decide to follow them, there is a faint red glow ahead now and there are a number of mummies shambling ahead and behind us. The wizard senses no magic.

The red glow is enough to see by at this stage. We extinguish the torches. Carefully pushing forwards. No one is showing signs of going weird yet but neither did Hans. We enter another chamber. There is a mass of mummies slowly milling around the source of the glow. We watch as one, then another are lifted off the ground by what looks a lot like a tentacle. What little viable biological material left is (we surmise) removed from it. It is then tossed aside.

:''>ok fuck learning. Fuck all of this. DM what ever carefully planned thing you have, fuck it. We are going to burn it. Then take off and nuke the site from orbit.''

We don't want to give our presence away quite yet, so Angus extinguishes the pilot light and settles for dousing the mummies with fuel. Mummies burn good, it's all the wrapping and general dryness. Then we light a torch and toss it into the room before ducking out of sight. There is a very impressive whoomph noise and we can feel the heat even from here. We decide to give it five minutes to see what happens then investigate. Angus reports he does not have a great deal of fuel left.

We can't tell if the red glow is what was there before or just fire. We investigate carefully. There are a lot of burning mummies, or remains of, on the ground. In the center of the room sits a black and red shiny looking device, about the size of a bowling ball. If it's going to be anything, it's going to be that. Now, we have no explosives, we can't retreat and fetch some (Who knows who might come looking), we could just shoot it, or give it a whack with Excalibur... Blunt force trauma via hammer or maybe just wizard something at it.

As the flames die down, we begin to see what happened to the natives, the thing still glows, and we wonder if someone might have touched it, it seems quite alluring if you don't know what it can do. The wizard summons a nice big lead block, in the shape of a hemisphere, then a second. The ball lets itself be scooped up into the container. Feeling a bit more confident. We approach it. Angus welds our crude radiation shield closed.

Experimentally, the Navvie, with all of our guns trained on him, picks the thing up.
:>"Hello it's very dark in here..."
:>AAAAAAAHFUCKFUCKFUCKITALKS
The Navvie promptly drops the thing as though he has been stung. The Chief Bear seems quite impressed.
:"So this is it, an alien device sealed down here by Horus himself, locked away with the bodies of a thousand of his most devote followers to serve as a warning to others and to stand guard over it."

:>Britbongsteros and the bowling ball of doom

The wizard is meant to know about this shit so he gets shoved forward. I can't believe we are about ten threads in and we haven't discussed this. The wizard is a tcheuter (Google it) and sounds like [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0TXmWlSPLE this]. If you imagine everything that follows in this guys voice, anon will get the full impact. I will post it in Aberdonian and a translation can be provided if requested

While the song is about Angus, the accent is wizard. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLf615sCfDE Evil Scotsman With Lyrics]

:"Aye baw fit do ye want?"
:"What? I am Antrygos the annihilator!"
:"Och ats good, but whit are ye aboot?"
:"I am here to stop the unbelievers, they are here to increase their numbers and..."
:"De ye mean the wans whae winted to shag this lass?" (He points to Cruella. Note that bowling ball has no eyes, is also encased in lead)
:"The breeding unit?" (The DM makes a very odd noise, it later emerges this is because someone kicked his shin under the table)
:"Onywae whit are you doing here and hoo dae wae kill ye?"
:"What? You cannot kill me! I..."
We hear running feet, we are presented with a conundrum. The Caliphate will take this thing off us, and we don't want that. The bears will tell them about it....

The purple penguin would not be happy of we killed them, so we talk.
:"Alright, do you agree this thing is dangerous?"
:"Yes."
:"Do you also agree that it is better contained than released?"
:"Yes."
:"Do you agree that it is better in our hands than theirs?"
:"Yes."
We take the ball and chief bear, being a bear of honour, gives a salute and nod.

We leg it.

By the time we left, the French had actually also legged it, at some point having released the Caliphate troops, now swarming the area.

Avoiding the caliphate troops by hiding amongst the sarcophagi. We return to Orrance and tell him what we found. He is understandably pleased about the result but when we show him Antrygos (the bowling ball) he is amazed by the thing, especially when it talks.

We wonder what the hell are we going to do with it. As we discuss, Antrygos interrupts every so often with "UNHAND ME" or "RELEASE ME PUNY EARTHLING SO I CAN FEAST ON YOU"

We can't immediately destroy him, and he might be useful to the Privy Council. We settle on taking him to the dreadnowt and sealing him in a safe so we can do something with him when we have time.

So with Antrygos safely stored away (which took some time in game, but not much happened aside from explaining to Captain DM exactly what the chatty bowling ball of death was about) Cap'n DM was not exactly pleased to have him aboard, but there was little else to be done - we could hardly chuck him in the sea - that'd just be not environmentally friendly and mutant alien tuna didn't sound good.

What comes next is a return to Orrance, who seems better disposed toward us than previously. He agrees that he will take us into Araby on the condition that we help him further.

As we know, the Caliphate has enslaved the old Gods but would rather they were dead. Ismail's group would rather they were alive and free. If we manage to steal the process of extracting the oil, Britain doesn't really mind what happens to the Caliphate or the area if we already have oil, however, having a sympathetic regime that is less inclined to provide oil to other powers seems like a good idea.

That regime we decide is more likely to be Ismail and Orrance's.

What the further task is, is to release Horus.

:>A brief note on the Egyptian gods.
:>What were they all doing beforehand? Well as we know in Britbongsteros, magic is a peculiar quantity and the aliens did something to nullify it. This stopped being a thing about 1497.

How do we know it was 1497?

Because suddenly dragons, orcs, and cthulu.

This also meant Horus and co. suddenly materialize again with hardly any worshipers (God food), and very little idea of what is going on.

Think of it like this, if you have ever been blackout drunk, you're still you, you just don't record memories of the time when you were drunk. You just stumble around and drunk dial your ex. The old gods are all into the second bottle of tequila.

:>Where's Jesus then?
Jesus was (apparently) a person.
:>Ok where's God?
Well actually this came up in a discussion the party had. I forget when but it was the Wizard who brought it up. Being a monotheistic sky God, who wasn't very big on appearing in person, he hasn't really shown up and is too busy fighting the other similar gods somewhere else. So no God. This doesn't stop the church existing however, as you all already know.

I'm sure holes can be poked in the theology but that's what we went with.

:>what do we know about Horus?
Well he is chained up on the banks of the Nile and currently serving as a clock.
:>What will freeing him do?
He can escape into the desert and give hope to Ismail's folk, he can also lead an army to overthrow the caliphate. In 1497 he didn't have many worshipers, now he has more, not many, but enough, enough he is starting to sober up... He is probably the best chance they have, especially if he can free other gods.

Of course we might be CIA'ing the situation (which, for one, this is what always happens when you touch middle eastern politics...), but if required, a European power could still put down enough ordinance to splat him, and fuck it, if we get our own oil (via the process) then we don't really give a shit anyway. Also you never know, being owed a favour by a god might be nice. Especially if there really are aliens coming...

Anyway, that also covers a good deal of in character discussion.

We decide the best thing to do, is go with Orrance to have a look at Horus and see what exactly the situation is. We wait for morning and head out.

The trip is uneventful (Angus and that camel are getting really friendly though). Horus is bounded by chains made of what looks like cold iron, he couldn't break them no matter how strong he was. He is on his back, the caliphate have apparently tried everything they can think of to kill him judging by the way the earth around him is stained a deep dark black of old blood. He is not in a good way. We arrive about 07:58 and so are in good time to see the crew of slaves beating something which is stoking a fire and the red hot bars being drawn out. What they are beating is Babi, it seems like he has lost a lot of faith (worshipers),is a good bit smaller (still 30ft tall), and is not enjoying his existence. Poor bastard looks miserable.

You could even say he looks a little flaccid. Anyway we are there as Horus screams the hour (well, just screams really, but it's at about 08:00:05).

We decide getting too close (particularly with Excalibur) is a bad idea. So we retreat back to the Souk to meet Ismail and plot (also we just quite like Ismail and wanted to see him again).

Ismail is pleased to see us, and even more pleased that we didn't turn out to be dicks. He is thrilled with our goal, but beyond providing local knowledge, he isn't sure what he can do to help.

We go round the group for suggestions:
:Bard: "We need to break the chains. Could we use explosives?"
:Angus: "The thermic lance probably won't work. Also, explosives might... if it was directed, it just might... We know from previous experience that enough dakka can kill a god, so we will have to be careful."
:Wizard: "Chains are cold iron that I didn't create, fuck all I can do. The dreadnowt (our pet battleship) might have some spare."
:Cruella "So we are going to blow up a god, but only slightly? I wonder if Babi could help? Can we free him too? He looked so sad..."
:Rest of group: "So you will happily murder anything that is human, but if it's fluffy then we should be nice to it?"
:Cruella: "He might be useful, also yes."
:"Wasn't he going to kill us all?"
:"Oh shush. For once I want to be nice, and I got him into this..."

Ok so now we are freeing both.

If I forgot to mention it, they only make him scream during the hours of daylight, and that does makes it hard to sleep in (keeping everybody productive). This also means it's pretty much just him and Babi at night Ismail informs us. There are guards but not many, and they are easily bribed or distracted. His faction haven't had any means to break the chains and don't want to draw unnecessary attention to themselves without definitely knowing they could free Horus.

Ismail tells us Babi is bound by smaller chains, and because he was missing a toe when he was captured, has been quite extensively mutilated (The reasoning being, if he was missing a bit, then surely they could ensure he misses some more bits). The toe hasn't grown back, and even if he is slowly healing from his other wounds, pain is still pain.

We travel to the dreadnowt (not exactly far) and pleasingly it seems all is normal aboard (at least no one has turned into anything they shouldn't have...). We acquire (after Angus, Wizard and I have a chat) a couple of shells from the main battery. They are armour piercing and fucking heavy. They should do the job.
:"How are we going to set them off?" Asks the Navvie as he picks them up easily.
That is a very good question. The wizard seems to think, however, he can direct something like a coin or hammer with enough force to set off the smaller ignition charges and those will do the rest.

We return at night and have another look. The Caliphate really don't seem to post many guards, but we can see about two dozen by the light of their torches. That doesn't seem like many given that someone must've mentioned the raid on the pyramids the other night. It is possible the bears didn't talk about it (they seemed to get our point), but some of the infantry must've... Also y'know sphinx and djinn playfighting...

We use the cover of darkness to sneak closer, the area Horus is in is essentially a waste ground with slum type buildings at either side and the Nile a short distance from his feet.

We go for the Nile side. There are even less guards here....
:>DM, this wouldn't be a trap would it?
:>Why on earth would you think that?
:>Well maybe because you're pure evil as DMs go....
:>Of course it isn't a trap...
It's a trap.

The first thing we notice is Babi sniffing the air. He looks right at us.
:"Ook?"
Cruella makes a shushing motion, he waves backwards at us. He might be an ape but the gesture of "no! Run!" is pretty clear.

Of course it's also enough to spring the trap as anyone watching him knows that something has been spotted.

A tiny djinn rises into the sky like a flare, making the whole area glow like daylight as the Nile behind us loses its stillness.

:Wikipedia:
:The Nile crocodile (Crocodylus niloticus) is an African crocodile and the second largest extant reptile in the world, after the saltwater crocodile.
:On average the Nile crocodile is between 4.1 metres (13 ft) to 5 metres (16 ft), weighing around 410 kg (900 lb). However, specimens measuring 6.1 metres (20 ft) in length and weighing 907 kg (2,000 lb) have been recorded. They have thick scaly skin that is heavily armored.

:>Now add Britbongsteros.

They're bigger than the wiki implies. Much. The eyes glow red indicating something magical going on (Tiny djinn implanted in their brains).

And then if you recall Sobek was one of the enslaved Gods.

:>Shit! Run!
Except of course
:"Smaller specimens can gallop, and even larger crocodiles are capable of surprising bursts of speed"

There is no plan. The Navvie hefts the shells and runs like a rugby player with them in the direction of Horus. The wizard as the other part of the demo team Rincewinds after him.

With about ten seconds before engagement, the rest of us prepare to stand our ground.

This is the first time we have ever faced anything truly heavily armoured. I've got solid slugs, Cruella has Excalibur, the purple penguin has disapproving looks, and Angus has a thermic lance, we should be fine...

In the stark light of the flare/djinn in the heart of an ancient civilization, the city wakes to a new sound. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ayjVxUC2qDE Sabaton - Panzer Battalion + Lyrics] (on the bagpipes of course).

The Navvie (unbeknownst to us) makes a detour. Stopping at Babi. Babi is manacled hand and foot with decent sized chains (nowhere near the foot across links used on Horus). The Navvie gestures for Babi to lay his wrist chains on the anvil used to fashion the iron bars (which after use on Horus get recycled into bayonets).
:"Ook?"
The wizard conjures a spike of the hardest alloy he knows of and the Navvie brings that hammer down.
:"Ook!"
He does it again on the second set of chains.
:"OOK!"

Meanwhile, we prepare to meet the crocs. Angus quite rightly suspects fire is not going to do much, but the lance definitely will. I try firing on the closest, it seems to slow it down, but not a great deal else. Cruella prepares to leap.

They get closer. Angus fencing with one with the lance, carving bits off, but it does not seem to feel pain. I get some critical hits as one roars (a couple dozen solid slugs down its gullet kills it very dead). Cruella gets on top of one and sticks Excalibur through its brain. It doesn't seem to really notice and keeps trying to eat me.

It's about now that Babi sweeps into them. Picking up one croc and using it as a bludgeon on the others.

Further up the body of Horus, Navvie and wizard come under fire. Horus grunts as everything that misses them hits him. They are pinned down somewhere near his hand, about twenty feet from the chains across his chest. The wizard has some small influence over bullets and the Navvie makes a run for it, slamming the shells in between the links of the chains and taking cover in Horus's armpit (there are no atheists in foxholes as the saying goes). The wizard redirects the suppressing fire and, well, the Dreadnowt has some really big guns because when the smoke clears a very big chunk of Horus is missing and the chains are broken.

Horus with his arms now free, and a hole in his side you could parallel park in, sits up. He rips the chain around his neck from the ground and the chains around his legs follow suit.

The bard by now has switched songs [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nba3Tr_GLZU Iron Maiden - Fear of the Dark] and alarms go off across the city. Horus, rising against the moon, looking bigger, weirder, and frankly more pissed off than anything we have seen yet.
:"Thank you mortals."
He stoops and picks up Babi by the scruff of the neck and sets off in the direction of Anubis. Babi carries the last remaining croc with him having subdued (concussed) his new friend.

:>The old gods return.

Well say what you like about us, but as we watch Horus's broad back retreat into the moonlight, the Purple Penguin sensibly reminds us that "Holy fuck, leg it."

We make for the Souk where Orrance and Ismail seem quite pleased with us. Orrance has a map of the country spread out and Ismail is assisting. The place is a tumult of activity. We decide to settle in and try to get some sleep. See what the morning brings as no one seems in the mood to take us out into the desert yet.

Every so often we can hear bangs and what sound like explosions in the city. It sounds like in the traditional of PCs, we fucked shit up good.

We awake on a new day, and look out into the city as breakfast is being prepared. Quite a lot of it is on fire or wrecked.
:>oops.
It also seems like the Caliphate is in total disarray. Ismail is happy with Orrance in charge, so our fat happy merchant friend will guide us out into the deserts of Araby. We have a couple hours to make ready and are assisted with supplies and camels (Angus gets his favourite again).

We are lead through the backstreets and circled round what sounds like full on magical civil war.

We are starting to realize, that our actions last night killed an awful lot of people indirectly.

We should, and do, feel bad about this.

We set off into the desert eventually. Making camp beneath the stars, watching the moon rise, it is incredibly peaceful, relaxing almost. For the first few days anyway.

Have some mood music: it's a bit different to the usual metal but seemed fitting [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldeWzNtgtsk Arabic Music - The Desert Lounge Vol IV]

Ok point one. Fuck me is it hot. We knew it was the desert but my god, it is getting hot in the day and beyond cold at night. Ismail seems to know where he's going, and we trot along after him. Days one and two are uneventful. Day 3 we come to an oasis, refilling canteens and camels, all feels pretty good. Day 4 we start to pass from rocky desert into dunes, mile, after mile, after mile of dunes.

It's hot, it's a dry heat, each day the sun makes this slow ascent, seemingly higher in the sky than the last, lips become chapped, even in our thaubs (we kept the disguises) we roast. Ismail is starting to look unhappy on day 5. Consulting the map, checking the sky.

We haven't seen anything fly over since Day 3.

:Day 6 is uneventful, but hotter and hotter.
:Day 7 - "Ismail, are we nearly there yet?"
:"Tomorrow I promise, effendi."
:Day 8 - "Where the fuck are we ismail? The camels are starting to complain, getting grumpier. Angus is sunburnt to fuck."
:Day 9 - "Ismail, are we lost?"
:"No effendi it can't be far now..."
:Day 10 - Ismail's camel drops dead.

:>DM, just for ONCE can we go somewhere and not... hang on... Camels take six or seven MONTHS to dehydrate.
:>Come to think of it, we're all a bit more dehydrated than we should be, and the rest of the camels are looking peaky.

Ismail gamely walks along with us, insisting he's ok, and no he doesn't want to share a camel with someone, he is burning his feet on the sand. He drops too. He sure seems to have lost a lot of weight when the Navvie picks him up.

We are starting to suspect something is wrong here.

We were already on alert for Djinn and mirages or zombie French foreign legion, but we didn't expect the DM to make a play like this.

:>By the purple penguin it is fucking hot.

We decide to make camp in a wadi and study Ismail's map. We may not have any idea where the fuck we are, but we might as well try and work it out. We don't want to end like this. Lost in the desert, dehydrated husks with no one to tell our stories.

With night first comes blessed cool, we drink water, the water skins aren't doing very well, neither is based Ismail.

We estimate we have a couple days at best. We are lost as fuck.

:>Has anyone got any bright ideas?

We try to make condensers, it doesn't work very well. We know in the morning we should head east. The DM starts to make us roll every so often. What for he won't say. No one seems to fail, but as we traipse on, losing my camel, then Cruella's, then the Navvie's, each seeming mysteriously drained dry we...

The wizard drops.

We can just carry Ismail, and we can just about carry the wizard too. One more, and that's it.

The DM has chucked us in at the deep end (Quicksand?) with this one.

We agree to try to head east. Our progress slower and slower with each dead camel. Finally, we are left with Angus's camel with the weakest members of the party on her back.
:>Why are the camels dying?
We don't know... we are fucked...
:>A spot, a spot on the horizon... it's... is that green?

We get closer, and closer, it has to be a mirage,

Feet rise and fall, each step slower than the last, chapped lips would bleed, but we are too dehydrated. The sun is getting higher, hotter. We walk, a slow steady, lung burning mantra of
:"Fuck it's hot" right step
:"Fuck you DM" left step
:"Fuck it's hot" right step
:"Fuck you DM" left step
The green dot isn't going away... it is getting bigger...

We can see palm trees. Holy fuck it is an oasis.

What's that funny flappy thing?

:>A caliphate flag

We decide to finish the waterskins, each and every last one, every drop, pouring some into Ismail and Wizard in the hope they'll be able to help.

The last one isn't full of water. It's full of sand and a note.
:>Camels poisoned. Ali.
:>I fucking hate this kid.

We wait in the scorching oven of the desert for nightfall, assessing the caliphate presence. We are literally yards from salvation, between us are two platoons of Caliphate soldiers.

Ordinarily, for us, at this level, no fucking trouble.

Dehydrated and half dead? More than a deadly challenge.

:>Plans?
:>Surrender? The Purple Penguin spits upon you for your cowardice.
:>CHARGE! Might work...
:>Make as much noise and violence as possible when they're sleeping and see what happens?

We watch them bed down for the night. Dry lips chafing at that cool clear water. The Camel huffs, sniffing water on the air. Angus fluffs his roll to control her. She gets away from us and barrels into the camp.

We decide that this is our best hope of a distraction.

:>Flamethrowers are amazing at crowd control
:>As are gatling shotguns

Bard does his best as well: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wnn47V09Q2M Slayer Raining Blood] (Hilariously apt DM, thanks)

The Caliphate troops break and run. In the burning camp, as palm trees go up like torches, as the wounded scream and burn, silhouetted in the darkness is one camel drinking her fill very happily. We do the same.

In the confusion it appears some of the caliphate troops were either too dead to use them, or too busy running, and their camels legged it, they start to wander back over the next 24 hours.

Everyone's starting to feel better, we don't know what Ali used on the camels but we have a feeling he used the same stuff on a couple of the waterskins, but the symptoms are starting to leave us now. We rest up a bit, keeping careful watch on the dunes for Caliphate reprisals.

We also find in the camp maps which seem to imply we are, at worst, a day or two from where we need to be.

We head onwards after resting up, we start seeing signs of Arab habitation, it appears what we met was a Caliphate forward patrol, one which was deep in enemy territory as it were. The dunes start to give way to scrub, we aren't far from the coast as far as we can tell now. Then we mount a dune, and there, in all it's blue watery gorgeousness, is the sea.

We prepare for the next part of our adventure, onward to the oil, and to steal the process of extracting it.

After getting lost (very lost) and our nearly dying of dehydration, we are on the gulf of Aqaba, we travel up the coast and round, down to Medina (it takes about five more days doing this but we don't die). We meet more and more Arabs, they are friendly, especially when Ismail tells them about what we have been up to. They seem pretty bro-tier all round. Each night we stay with a different camp, hanging out and generally making friends. Medina has some foreign influence, especially British but we head out from there and on to somewhere between Hafir al batin and Buradyh.

We start to see Djinn again and things are very deserty.

The oil fields at last. We meet camel trains carrying barrels full of the stuff to the coast, we are so close. After all this weirdness, things have taken on an almost unreal quality.

We see a geyser of black gold spurt into the sky. Whatever they are doing it clearly works. We crest a dune and see just how it works.

There are human shapes chained up on the desert floor. A man casts an incantation of some sort over the body of one bound and gagged victim and blood flows from him, a lot of it, all of it. Draining into the sand.

Seconds later from beneath the corpse, oil bubbles, then flows, then gushes.
:>aaaaaaaw fuck.

:"Ismail... dude... did you know about this?"
:"Of course I did. We only use people who volunteer."
:"What do you mean volunteer?"
:"Well they are mostly slaves really, their owners volunteer them and..."
:>The purple penguin is starting to froth at the mouth
:"Ok, who is that priest guy?"
:"That would be one of the cult, they don't follow the old gods. They are very good at doing this magic though are they not, effendi?"

Ok. Huddle up.
:1. We need that process.
:2. Fuck this cult.
:3. If we (ok wizard) can learn whatever the fuck it is, maybe we can reverse engineer it and make it less murdery.

:"Ismail, we would like to meet one of the priests please."
Ismail is extremely happy to arrange this. He suggests we take a goat.

The priests reside in an old fortress nearby. Ismail merrily gives exposition on who they are.
:>The priests of (I can't post the Arabic characters in text but it's pronounced Daem, which, delightfully, is Arabic for blood) (yay!) They were kicked out of the caliphate for being too extreme and generally weird, practicing magic that was forbidden and entirely unholy. They were welcomed by the Arabs who are actually just nice guys, and they took them in as down on their luck folks without realizing what these guys were about.
:Then the oil happened and the Cult of Daem got to be very wealthy, they don't care about influence or power, just the occasional blood sacrifice or virgin here and there.
:There are about sixty of them, and every so often they tap wells like this.

It seems like chopping the cult out is not a bad idea. We are sorely tempted to just go full on murder hobo, but we also need to learn from them.

So we need to make friends, then kill all of them.

:Step 1, acquire goat.
This is done easily enough.
:Step 2. Wait a minute, does anyone speak Arabic?
Ismail, and possibly the penguin.

Ok....do we trust Ismail to translate?

We think so. He seems nice enough.

:Step 3. Acquire favour within the cult.
This third step is likely to require the wizard doing something we really do not like. But with the fleet back home damaged, and landcruisers needing fuel, Britbongsteros needs this stuff.

Have some more mood music seeing as anon liked it. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oYCaaZYG-k Chillout Arabian Lost In The Desert]

We have our objectives. As we are discussing, we see that the cultist and those with him are going to pass pretty close to us. We get our first look at what we are up against up close. Black robes are a given, trimmed with red, a belt made of finger bones, and a staff with a skull on top. We can't see his face for mask, another skull. We can see eyes, blue like the desert sky stare out at us. So obviously foreigners in this land. He stops.

He says something (for the rest of this just assume Ismail is translating)

:"For her, I would give much gold, enough for forty others."
We close in around Cruella again to prevent another murder.
:"I mean the camel, not that skinny thing"
:Cruella: "Why do people keep doing that?"
:Party: "We'll explain later just don't stab anyone right now please..."
Angus steps forward to defend his camel.
:"She is worth a hundred others, there is none like her" (he really liked that camel)
:"Ha. I will give you two."
:"Two what?"
:"Of your hearts desire, eunuch. Then I would pluck that heart out and feast on it"
He walks away laughing.
:>What the fuck was that about DM? Is he just crazy or crazy and evil?
:Ismail answers: "That was Al'Fella. Please, effendi, we were very lucky to have survived that..."
:"Why?"
:"He is the leader of the cult of Daem. The best and worst of them."
We have a feeling he is not the best at ethics and the worst at blood sacrifice. We ask Ismail
:"How are we going to get to learn any of this stuff if he doesn't like us?"
Ismail laughs now, that big fat belly laugh that seemed really jolly and lovely in Cairo is actually creepy as fuck now.
:"Didn't like you? He loved you!"
:"Wut?"
:"Are you dead? No? Then he liked you. He made a joke, then he really liked you. You are still not dead for the punchline? He must love you!"
We are in a really weird place and awfully far from home.

Then again, we are often in a really weird place far from home.

We acquire a goat quite easily. Ismail seems quite happy to take us to the mountaintop residence of the cult (typical evil looking fortress).

Now anon may be wondering, generally we try to be at least neutral good or whatever the brokenness of the D&D chart thinks we are. This is balanced against
:>The DM is a dick

So the obviously evil chaps have something we really want, and the question for us is how far are we willing to go for this before we murder them.

It's actually quite an interesting dilemma for the party.

The wizard, as the only really magical one, gets shoved to the forefront for a lot of what follows.

The DM has a little mechanic he uses for this, he dips into his bag (bad sign), he asks nicely if he could have a bowl please. Also another beer. He has something in his hand.

Meanwhile, the wizard is nudged forward, we are standing before the gates to the place, the wizard has the goat next to him.

Ismail says
:"Speak after me"

Bear in mind that the wizard has the thickest Scottish accent and he is trying to parrot a language he hadn't even heard last month.

I'll do it in doric
:"Ok wizard, tell them you come to learn."
:"Aye ahm hir tae oonderstan yer magik."
Heads start to pop out over the battlements.
:"Tell them you want to get answers to your questions."
:"Ahm winting ye tae answir mae thae question thrae."
:"And that you bring them this offering."
:"Ah bright ye ah goat"
:"Now slit its throat."
:"Whit?"
:"Do it."
:DM: "Wizard PC, close your eyes and hold out hand please."
:DM: "Do you do it?"
:Wizard PC "Aye, I mean yes."
:>DM squeezes tomato ketchup onto wizard's hand.

The surprised wizard PC (and everyone else) finds this more than amusing, and the doors to the place swing open. We are in.

The creak closed behind us in proper horror movie fashion.

We we are in. What next?

Ismail whispers that there are likely to be trials, if we want to learn, then they will put us to the test. They are unlikely to be much fun.

Who greets us? Our good friend Al.

(again whenever someone speaks Ismail is interpreting)
:Al: "You come seeking wisdom?"
:"We wish to learn how to take oil from the ground, yes."
:"Very well. There will be trials. I suggest you take some time to compose yourselves. Why not enjoy refreshments while we prepare."
He claps his hands and a group of slave Leias bring in some tea. We sip, reclining on cushions. As we finish our drinks, Ismail kindly pours more, there is a note under the pot.

Ismail reads aloud
:"The first trial has begun."
The doors slam shut and bolts turn.
:"The tea was poisoned. The antidote is somewhere in this room. There is enough for half of you."

Those who are best at searching (Angus and Cruella) start doing so. The rest of us do our best to assist while working out how we can make half the dose work for everyone. We don't have any kind of magic healing person, the bard isn't bad at medicine, but he isn't exactly going to help.
:>The DM places his alarm clock on the table.5 minutes.
We search, frantically, after a little while, Angus finds a glowing blue bottle and swigs from it, about the same time Cruella finds a purple one and, being a bit brighter, doesn't.
:>Is this it? Are these one dose each? Two? We don't know...

We are starting to get a bit panicky. Three minutes left. Then two, then one. We haven't found any more. No one seems to be any worse off.

Still only enough for half... We all drank the tea, and Angus is fine, maybe...

We are starting to look at each other in a new light. We are very fond of these characters...

:Wizard: "Well, Ismail is fucked..."
:Cruella: "Who ever wants to take this off me can try..."
:Aldous: "Drink mine, I have lived long enough."
:Navvie: "I agree you have... gimme!"
:Bard: "Guys! Guys! We can't end like this we...(OOC now) would the DM kill half us us so arbitrarily? Would he kill us in such a stupid way?"
:DM: "Actually I did bring some new character sheets." (dm ruffles papers)
15 seconds
:Bard: (IC) "Refuse to drink it, these are cultists obsessed with blood. They want to see if we turn on each other... Don't."
:>The alarm clock rings.
:DM: "Well I need a slash, I will be back in a minute. Who wants a beer?"

The DM takes an ostentatiously long time, and returns, pops his beer and continues

Al returns
:"Ha! Well done, normally they fight like tooth and nail. It is so much fun to watch. You have survived the first trial!"
:>Note that the session ended for the night there, DM fearing reprisals.

As mentioned last time, DM was rounded upon for nearly arbitrarily killing the entire party twice.
:>Our DM is a Cunt.
So he decided to try harder this time. Going all the way back to the first time I talked about Britbongsteros, he liked offering us choices... Difficult ones.

At this point, DM dips into his rucksack and removes a large yellow bag.

:>Jelly babies (they are a British sweet which for some reason are in the shape of babies)
:>There is a collective intake of breath.
:>DM opens the bag and starts lining up jelly babies on the table. Little serried colourful ranks.
:>"Can I have a knife and a chopping board please? And a beer? Also would anyone like a jellybaby?"

:>No one seems inclined.

Mad Ali launches into some exposition as the DM happily munches jellybabies.
:"Come follow me, it is interesting to see a group of supplicants all survive the first trial. I understand only one of you is magically inclined (He means the wizard), what the rest of you hope to learn is not in my understanding, unless perhaps [wizard] you have brought me some new "volunteers"? That would be most kind of you."
Mad Ali giggles at a joke only he seems to get.

>DM bites the head off a jellybaby.

Ali leads us deeper into the fortress, until we come to a cavern, the walls are rough stone and from the roof shines a shaft of sunlight into near darkness. It looks a lot like Majilis al Jinn cave.

We are at the heart of what is by all accounts an extremely unpleasant cult, and as crazy as mad Ali is, they still seem surprisingly ok with us being there and wanting to learn their secrets. This and the jellybabies are starting to make us suspect not all is right here.

The shaft of light shines down onto an altar, if anything it is so blatantly a sacrificial altar it can't be anything else.

The rear of the altar seems to have a fairly substantial pool of inky looking water behind it.

Mad Ali keeps talking
:"You have all killed before, numerous times, you have a great deal of blood on your hands. Each death is in furtherance of some goal I am sure, but you six have killed a great many, I doubt for any of you, you would have second thoughts of killing again, especially not for the powerful knowledge I may teach you. Surely a great prize such as that, is one which is worth spilling blood for?"

After a speech like that, we all look at each other.

Cruella seems to be chewing something.
:("I like jellybabies, fuck off").

:Angus: "Guys what are we gonna do? If he does what I think he is about to ask to do, we can't go through with it, we can't let him kill someone in front of us either."
:Navvie: "I think Ali has a point, you know we did just inadvertently have half of Cairo smashed. What's a little blood sacrifice?"
:Bard: "I do not like hard decisions!"

Mad Ali claps his hands and a robed acolyte brings out a small, squirming, bundle.

The bundle starts to cry.

:>Oh shit we are gonna have to kill everyone now...
:>DM slowly, carefully, chops the head off a jelly baby and eats it.
:>He does it again.

Mad Ali speaks:
:"Blood is important. Blood is everything. Blood is..."
The baby wails. Ali continues
:"Ooogooo woogly googly oooogly"
The baby gurgles and claps. He cradles the child.
:"This is my son, my flesh and blood. He will carry on my work after I am done. Is he not beautiful? Blood is important."

:>DM gets the biggest shit eating grin, slits a jellybaby in half, and eats it.

This by the way is the reason I don't trust jellybabies.

Mad Ali hands the bundle back to the (we notice for the first time) female acolyte, and draws us and our subverted expectations closer to the altar.

So with our wonderful DM having done that to us, Ali asks for each of us to make a contribution, to slit open our palms and lay it on the altar. He passes round an ornate looking dagger, and we oblige, there is a shimmer in the water as blood flows down the altar, ripples form in the perfect stillness. We can't quite make out is causing them...

As the water breaks, mad Ali, cult leader, person exploder, and surprisingly nice family man bids us take a step back.

:"This is the avatar of our God..."
We peer into the water. It's rather a big shape.
:"HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THAT?"
Ali throws his arms out wide.
:"Is Ibil al'Daem not perfect?"
:Navvie: "That's a dunleosteous mate."

The Navvie is quite correct from what we can see. Ali continues
:"Those who wish to learn must be judged worthy."
He removes a bracelet and tosses it into the pool.
:"You do wish to be found worthy do you not? Retrieve it."
The Dunkleosteus (who I'm going to just call Duncan) scents blood in the water and thrashes about. The wizard looks on nervously.
:"Go retrieve it! Duncan can scent cowardice"
:Wizard: "I'm not going in bloody there...."
:Party: "Yes you sodding are."
:Ali: "Do you wish to forfeit the trial?"
:Cruella: "Isn't the bracelet metal?"
:Wizard: "Yes... why?... oooooh."
The wizard closes his eyes and sure enough, the bracelet rises above the water, Duncan makes a bite at it but misses, it lands at Ali's feet. He seems a tiny bit put out that no one dived in.
:"The normal process is to satiate Duncan with slaves first... But I am sure he will not be hungry for long..."

DM seems fairly serene and we can't tell if that was what we were meant to do or not...

In any event, Ali agrees to begin to teach the wizard how the process works. This takes a couple of days in game but is glossed over quite quickly. The rest of us try to stay out of the way and not get sacrificed to anything.

The wizard seems to be ok learning on goats but everytime we see him he is covered in more and more blood. Learning this stuff can't be good for him. Eventually he reports that
:"Ali says tomorrow I am ready to practice on humans"
:>Time perhaps to put an end to this...

We interrogate him,
:"Does this mean he knows everything required to drill for oil?"
:"Nearly."
Tomorrow is when he will learn.
:"Can the process be modified to work without humans?"
:"Yes, probably."
That settles it then. Tomorrow we wipe out the cult of Daem. They may have been quite nice to us, really nice in fact, but the fact of the matter is... they practice human sacrifice and that is enough of a reason for the purple penguin.

The DM has us all roll a D20. Angus rolls highest.

The note the DM passed to Angus (I later learned) read "Congratulations during the night you have been kidnapped"

We discover his absence on waking the next morning.

We search for him to no avail, we definitely had him with us when we went to our separate quarters, his room seems to have no trapdoors or secret passages we...
:>Ali sweeps in
We tactfully ask him where Angus is.
:"Your slave? I have had him staked out in the desert. I assume that is why you brought him..."
(Anon may recall that Angus was notionally disguised as Cruella's slave for this adventure to allow him, as an orc, to be seen in public)

We decide that killing Ali at this stage is not a good idea, as he obviously knows where Angus is, and can lead us to him.

We follow him out into the desert, with Ismails help, the wizard asks,
:"If most of this works on goats, why do you need to use people? Couldn't you just modify the process?"
Mad Ali seems a bit shocked by the idea.
:"Because Daem demands it, you wouldn't want to insult Daem would you?"
:"No no of course we don't want to insult your crazy God."
In the distance there is a scream, a crack and a pillar of oil gushing into the sky.
:Ali: "Oh look at that, they have started without us!"
:>Oh fuck they've started without us.

Again, we start to see familiar shapes staked out on the sand. One of which is green and refreshingly unexploded.

Mad Ali takes us to a restrained body near Angus. DM takes great pleasure in describing the poor disheveled slave, how the bonds chafe her wrists, how her eyes implore us.
:Mad Ali: "Practice on this one first. Use what you have learnt wizard."
He looks expectantly.

The wizard totally fluffs his attempt to postpone things.
:"I... I'm... umm... are you sure?"
:"Yes wizard, use what you have learned, you know the ritual, I will complete the last step."

There is a lot of muttering between the party as this goes on. It boils down to
:"Are we going to let her he exploded? We still don't know the last steps... we might need those..."
Suddenly this seems very familiar, thinking back to the first adventure, this is sort of fate is what we were saving people from... But we really need that process...

More to the point do we actually know how powerful Ali is... is this a good idea?

At Ali's coaxing the wizard starts to chant, to perform the ritual, the slave screams into her gag, her eyes becoming bloodshot.

Blood soaks into the sand.

Cruella drives Excalibur deeper into Ali's chest.

Ismail doesn't translate but he manages to gasp what can only be
:"Why?"
:>Because purple penguins. That's why.

We quite efficiently butcher the rest of the cult of Daem, spilling plenty of blood while we're at it. The slaves seem grateful to be free for the most part, aside from a few who seem awfully disappointed not to be going to meet their god.

One of the latter category asks us (via Ismail)
:'Aren't you afraid of [Duncan]?'
:"Ha! Why should we be afraid of a fish in a desert?"
:'You really should be...'

It occurs to us that we haven't wiped out the Cult of Daem in its entirety, about 3/4s of it are back up on the hill, with their families, and one very big fish.

Really we can't just bugger off and leave them to be sacrificing folk.

We double check, the wizard seems to think he's learnt enough of the process to try it out back home, so we've ticked that box off our objective.

We go back up the hill in half-murderhobo, (remember there's kids in there, and the purple penguin likes kids) we start getting tacti-cool as we get closer, there doesn't seem to be anyone on the walls, and one parkour'ing Cruella and one Navvie shaped hole in the gates later seems to confirm it.

:>Where the fuck is everybody?
Our first port of call is where we were staying, Angus collects his flamethrower.
:Angus: "I wonder what Dunkelosteus tastes like?"
On our way to the lower levels we pass through the courtyard, and confirm that one very familiar camel is still alive as are some others. We decide this is probably going to get violent, but we should probably bring based Ismail along in case we need to be diplomatic.

As we get lower and lower, we notice that it seems like the walls are a little damp, the passageway certainly is, it's not just condensation, one quick finger taste says it's blood, rather a lot of the stuff too.

We get deeper and into the caves, just in time to see what we assume is the last cult member slit his own throat and fall backwards into the pool.

We approach the pool, taking a careful look around, there really isn't anyone left, but the floor is wet, about an inch or two deep in blood now, the pool is overflowing.

Based Ismail stands near the altar looking in, we have a quick conference,
:Let's go, what is a fish gonna do, and the cult is all dead. We should check again for survivors and get gone."
Ismail starts to speak,
:"Let's not look for survivors, lets not wait around, let's GO!"
Ismail continues,
:"Please effendi, it is not a good idea to stay we must leave."
The blood/water/watery-blood seems to be rising. It's level with the top of my boots now and getting higher.
:"Please we must leave this is a very bad place to be now...."
Ismail still has his back to the pool. Damn that blood is rising fast.

There's a very loud bang. The (only) entrance to the chamber seems to have just collapsed in on itself.

Then [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uz1J9PUcMQ0?t=1m26s this] happens.

:>Hi Duncan, you seem a lot bigger...
:''>We are gonna need a bigger boat...''

The water (blood) level is starting to rise, and a quick assessment of the doorway shows no hope of getting out in time. So we are stuck in about two feet of blood with a giant fish that seemingly is very keen on eating us.

Duncan bides his time in his pool.

The DM helpfully fills a pint glass with a little beer every couple minutes, the fluid level in that representing that in the cavern.

We examine our surroundings. If Duncan is a smart fish he will wait for the water level to rise a good bit. The cavern has ledges around it leading upward the dome of the roof. We can't climb out of the hole from the ledges but we can keep going until we think of something better than "get eaten by Duncan."

If the water level rises high enough, we could, in theory, float out of the skylight.

With Duncan in the water we didn't really feel like paddling at this point, but we did get up on a ledge and started climbing. It was pretty slow going, for every yard we went upward we went six or seven horizontally. Angus and Cruella did alright, the rest of us had to rely on the wizard summoning and drilling pitons in the wall. We got about a third of the way up with the water level rapidly catching up to us when we next saw Duncan, just a subtle flick of his tail breaking the water below us.

I don't know if anon has ever been trapped in a cave rapidly filling with blood and your only company is an angry murderous devonian fish, but it is not a good feeling.

We continue climbing, settling on a ledge maybe halfway up, the ledge is about five feet wide and ten long. Getting to the next ledge is going to be a tricky ascent across almost sheer rock. Going will be very slow and we have no ropes.

Suddenly...
:>Actually where is that fish?
We hold onto the wizard as he leans out to place the first piton.

We watch the water carefully.

Nothing.

There's a thud directly from below us as Duncan rams the ledge with his armoured forehead, cracks appear beneath our feet as blood/water begins to lap at the edges

We urge the wizard to work faster as Duncan rams the ledge again, bits of rock falling away now, the wizard is a few feet above us and climbing fast. Duncan comes straight up through the far end of the ledge, he is gone before we can even get a bead on him.

I was trying to think of an appropriately sea based metal song. I got stuck on this: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRibnHiuZkQ The Life Aquatic Soundtrack - Ping Island/Lightining Strike Rescue Op] though really I should go with [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nd3ZiAwmLpM Sabbath - Children of the Sea]. Anyway, back to Duncan.

Duncan rams the ledge again, there's not much of this thing left.

We start to climb, he's hot on our heels, jumping, snapping, and generally being certain death. We make it to another ledge, and he stops, waiting for the waters to rise.

We keep climbing, knowing that we're gonna have to swim the final stretch, and really must do something about him.
:>What exactly can we do about one extremely large, angry, armoured, god-fish?
We try to plan as best we can, fire isn't gonna do much, neither will shotgun shells, getting close to hammer/stab him doesn't seem wise either, this leaves the wizard and the bard.

Our options are starting to run low, the DM's pint glass is nearly full (it would actually have been a while ago if he didn't keep drinking out of it by mistake). We consider exactly what the wizard could do. We're a bit short on metal, and summoning random sharp objects is probably not gonna do a great deal.

Our thoughts are interrupted by Duncan making a leap at us, he misses everyone, but his nose touches the cavern wall behind us, if we're doing something, it needs to be done fast.

With no real bonuses to charm fish, the bard is out, so that leaves the wizard, we would have some grenades, but no one carried them. We have however seen jaws...

Angus takes some persuading to give up the fuel tank of his beloved flame thrower, the wizard is able to levitate it quite comfortably, the tricky part is persuading Duncan to open his mouth at the right time...

What we need is bait... the Navvie is too slow, I'm about as heavy as him, Cruella will stab us, we need the wizard, so that leaves the already unhappy Angus or the bard, who is wearing a kilt.

We grab Angus by the ankles and dangle him off the ledge while I cock the hammer of my pistol.

Duncan, true to form, does his best to eat Angus, who due to some very lucky rolls is able to avoid being eaten and is actually totally unscathed, Duncan does grab the canister and swallows it. Whole.
:>Oh.
So we are left with charm fish or a new plan, the water is rising...

We are going to get eaten or drown and then get eaten soon.

It's time for true heroism, a noble act to be told to future generations.

At least that's what I tell myself as I'm hung over the ledge of the cliff, even without a bonus to accuracy from the wizard, I'm still the best shot in the party.

Duncan resurfaces, some distance away. He is a fairly smart fish after all, and he must sense we aren't likely to want to feed ourselves to him...

He comes closer, experimentally floating just below me, eying me. He submerges. This must be it....

He breaches the water below me, I don't wait to fire I empty the whole cylinder down his throat.

He neatly snips off my arm (the good one) and submerges. The water boils, bubbles and then there is an explosion within the depths. I however am busy not dying from blood loss and being patched up by the bard.

The water rises and my unconscious body is dragged through the hole in the ceiling to safety.

The trip back to port Said is uneventful, though we pass more and more refugees, it seems we have caused all out civil war. It sure would be nice to get home.

The wizard is adamant he can build me a new arm once we are about the dreadnowt and then it's home for tea and medals.

The dreadnowt is still in harbour and appears normal. No one has been eaten by the bowling ball, and we celebrate by collapsing into our respective beds. Sunburned, missing a limb in my case (I liked that arm!) and ready for the voyage home.

The voyage sees a return to normality as we steam through the med, the captain is very pleased with us. I am very pleased with my new arm, and Angus has retreated down to the engine room with the other engineers. He was last heard of muttering about "Willy Pete."

I should add, Angus somehow got that fucking camel aboard.

:>Portents of doom
Captain DM reports that the bowling ball can be heard rattling around in its cell. Every night about the same time. When Mars is highest in the sky...

We sail through the straits of Gibraltar without incident. We decide after a good night's rest to listen out for what Antrygos (the bowling ball) is doing that night.

He has been sealed inside a store room, no portholes and only one way out through a bulkhead door which is guarded by two ratings with a deadman switch. (Britbongsteros does not fuck about). We take over from the ratings who are very relieved not to have to hang around near Antrygos.

We don't have to wait long in the corridor (Cruella has sensibly acquired a deck chair, the wizard summons a steel plate bent at a right angle and sits on that, the rest of us just lean against the wall and smoke or play cards).

Soon there comes the sound of a rolling ball, sliding from side to side within the room, getting faster and faster.

Antrygos makes everyone near him uneasy, he doesn't seem to be doing much beyond rolling, we can't see him rolling (but we hate him). He doesn't roll in easy motions like with the waves but fast and frenetic, stopping, starting, never with a rhythm, moments of silence then thudding like he's jumping.
:"Maybe we should crack the door?
We chat about the idea, doing our best not to listen to him bouncing or whatever alien balls do.
:>GREETINGS OAF, IDIOT, MIDGET, BREEDER, LECHER, AND SKILLED MUSICIAN.
His voice comes from right in the middle of us. Definitely not muffled by the room.

There's nothing in the hallway, and we can still hear him rolling about.
:>I SAID GREETINGS. ANSWER ME MORTALS.
:Cruella: "Aaw he sounds lonely."
:>I NEED NONE OF YOUR PITY MORTAL, BUT YES I YEARN FOR COMPANY
:"You do realize you eat people and turn them into Martians Antrygos? You're not exactly likeable."
:>I AM TO BE FEARED NOT LIKED.
:"Alright well we could just go and leave you to it..."
:>NO DO NOT GO. I COMMAND IT.
:"So you are lonely?"
:>YES. NO. I DEMAND AN AUDIENCE.
:"And why is that Antrygos?"
:>I HAVE WAITED MANY YEARS ALONE
:Cruella: "Aaw."
:>AND NOW YOU SHOULD KNOW THE CHANCES OF ANYTHING COMING FROM MARS DO NOT WANE (Wayne?), THEY GROW.
:"And what do you mean by that Antgyros?"
:>THE ENEMY IS COMING. IT IS CERTAIN.
He bounces around some more.
:"How do you know?"
:>CAN YOU NOT FEEL THEIR CREEPING PRESENCE? OR ARE YOU BEASTS THAT UNDERDEVELOPED?
:"He sure is a nice guy huh?"
:>YOUR AFFAIRS ARE BEING WATCHED BY INTELLIGENCES GREATER THAN YOURS. SCRUTINIZED LIKE THE TRANSIENT CREATURES THAT SWARM AND MULTIPLY IN A DROP OF WATER. ANTGYROS CARES NOT. ANTGYROS CARES ONLY FOR HIMSELF. ANTGRYOS DEMANDS YOU SACRIFICE YOURSELVES TO PROTECT HIS MIGHT.
:"Antgyros are you... are you scared?"
:>ANTGYROS CANNOT FEEL FEAR. ANTGYROS KNOWS NOT THIS EMOTION.
:"You are, aren't you?"
:>NEVER. THEY REGARD YOUR EARTH WITH ENVIOUS EYES AND SLOWLY AND SURELY, DRAW THEIR PLANS AGAINST YOU. ANTGYROS DEMANDS YOU ENSURE HE SURVIVES.
:"Antgyros. You're terrified..."
:>NO. I FEEL NO FEAR.
The ball stops rolling.
:"Can you tell us what's coming Antgyros?"
He remains silent.
:"When will they arrive?"
He remains silent.
:"Why are you so afraid."
There is a final decisive clunk as though he has come to rest and isn't going to move again for some time.

So begins our next tale.

===Good Omens, or Who do you think you are kidding, Mr. Kaiser?===
Antgyros refuses to be drawn for the rest of the voyage. We actually begin to suspect he's ignoring us. We dock at Portsmouth at night, waving goodbye to the Dreadnowt and feeling a bit cold to arrive in a Britbongsteros winter.

There's a couple things worth restating at this point. Long range communication in Britbongsteros is done by albatross or telegraph. News is fast but not that fast. Especially not on the Dreadnowt calling in at foreign ports.

News that the Germans have annexed Ipswich comes as a bit of a surprise.

We are obligated to return first to London and the Privy Council, taking Antgyros with us. He won't answer questions but does occasionally exclaim
:>GET YOUR DAMN DIRTY PAWS OFF ME YOU APE
and similar.

We meet with Sir Patrick (CYBORG MURDER BODY) Moore and hand over Antgyros. He listens with great interest as we explain who and what he is. Sir Patrick (robot McFacepunch) Moore informs us he has seen seven sequential flashes come from Mons Olympus on each of the last consecutive nights.

If that sounds familiar, well it should...

We leave Antgyros and Sir Patrick (bionic man of violence) (it really helps if you think of him as being a space marine Dreadnought) Moore to chat.

Richard III and Blackadder seem fairly pleased with us, and the process is demonstrated near Windsor Castle (yes, there's oil under that) using a sheep.

We share a mutton curry with Richard III and Blackadder, and the process is safely written down to be transmitted via albatross to Aberdeen.

Then we come to the "annexation."

The Germans have landed in divisional strength in Ipswich. Two brigades of Bears and one of Prussian Gryphons. They don't seem overtly hostile, just they have claimed Ipswich and are fortifying it.

The Privy Council have a plan which is two-fold:
:1. We (the party) politely ask them to fuck off.
:2. We drive a battalion of Landcruisers into Ipswich.

:>Why are they there?
We have no idea, it's Ipswich!
:>Why weren't they stopped/spotted?
After the Ireland "incident" there's not as much home fleet as you'd expect. They are keeping a fleet of Cruisers off Walmington on Sea. There is still a local force in platoon strength of soldiers from the Boer War doing sterling services guarding their homes and reporting on German movements. Their Captain Manwaring (V.C.) and Lance Corporal (V.C., O.B.E., Khorne Bezerker) Jones have kept up observation via albatross and telegraph since the "annexation" with L.C. Jones holding a bridge against successive waves of bears with nothing but a broomhandle with a knife strapped to it.

In other news, King Algernon has made representations to the Kaiser, but we have yet to have received a reply.

The communications from the locals in Ipswich indicate the Germans are not hostile, but are politely and efficiently taking names of locals and then moving them outside of the town. They are digging in like they expect the entire first world war to take place in the locale of Ipswich.

So just making sure all non-british anons are following: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DRip7QLC8g Home Guard] ([http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dad%27s_Army Dad's army]).
:>TFW when your entire party could be dad's army.

Anyway. So the Landcruisers, at top speed of 8 knots per hour, will arrive in Ipswich in 48 hours. We have that time to come to a peaceful solution.

Sir Hobart is leading the Landcruisers along with Sir Rirchard Clarkson May and they are being escorted by a Ghurkha regiment lead by Sir Stahig (pronounced Stig).

So with the Germans not actually being as hostile as one might expect an invasion to be, and instead they respond to force, but only on a local level. It's like they are here to fight, but not us...

So with the clock ticking, we head onward. We know the Landcruisers will reach the area by dawn the day after tomorrow, and we arrive near Colchester with 40 hours to go. We don't really have a plan yet, but the vague outline of one is starting to form.

It may be helpful for anon to have a [https://www.google.co.uk/maps/place/Ipswich,+Suffolk/@52.0214421,1.1343642,11z/data=!4m2!3m1!1s0x47d907861ed5d887:0x33ddc3ac7d2d42a9 map] at this stage.

Just replace Walton on the Naze with Walmington on Sea. So if you've found Colchester, the Germans have landed all along the coast between Walmington and up the coast to Felixstowe, they're inland as far as Ipswich and have stopped there.

The majority of their forces are in the city or surrounding it, digging in and fortifying. The Landcruisers, once ready, will push from Colchester into Ipswich via Copdock (for the Brit-anons it may be fun to imagine the Dad's Army arrows at this stage) while the remains of the Home Fleet will try to circle in from the North and South, trying to close the gap between Felixstowe and Walmington. Even with less hostility than expected, this is still a landing by a foreign power on our coast.

We (the party) are the last attempt at diplomacy and wouldn't even be trying diplomacy if they hadn't been so efficient and reasonable.

The party agrees that walking straight up to their lines, while normally completely insane, actually seems like (with a flag of truce) our best option.

It's about Noon when we set off from Washbrook. The bard pipes and we have a white flag. We are moving slowly, thoroughly, and making it very, very obvious we don't have any malicious intent.

The bard plays something neutral (or tries to but fluffs the roll), so off we go to the strains of [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogLwHEPyXBE Raubtier - Achtung Panzer].

It turns out walking across what is nominally no-mans land, we receive no fire, though we can see plenty of troops dug in front of us.

Given that the Bard's performances have been fatal previously, we stop playing about 500 yards out.

We get closer, there are birds singing now, and lots and lots of gun barrels ahead of us. The nature around us is strangely idyllic, English, plants and animals around us, the land green and pleasant.

We jump as a rabbit takes off out of a bush, but we proceed unmolested, we can make out individual figures in feld-grau now.

As we get closer to the trenches, a shape rises, a Prussian Gryphon.

He has enough English and we have enough German to communicate.
:"Who are you and what do you want Englander?"
He takes a notebook and pencil from his uniform.
:"Names und addresses bitte."
I'm not proud to say what followed was a babble of.
:>Don't tell him your name wizard
:>Don't tell him you name Navvie
:>Don't tell him your name Aldous
:"Hi, I'm Bard!"
He looks unimpressed and smooths his moustaches.
:"You really ought not to be here."
:"Neither should you!"
:"Ve haff (ahem) we have as much a right as you!"
:"You're German!"
:"We are on state business. This is not an invasion, it is a peacekeeping annexation."
:"A what?"
:"You can't just march in here and take Ipswich!"
:"We are doing so because it is undefended and weak. Herr Schiarperelli says so."
:"Who?" (Wait a minute that sounds... familiar).
We don't really want to declare war on Germany (I don't, this I've made this sufficiently clear) as the country is still weak. War may be an eventual certainty, yes, but at this stage after everything (we have blown up and) the nation has been through, now is not the time for war.

This is why we are here to politely ask the Germans to bugger off.

The gryphon looks us up and down, and flexes his wings.
:"I suggest you come with me. It is perhaps best explained to you by another."
Well we still have about thirty six hours until the bombardment and advance of the landcruisers which we expect will be enough to throw the invasion back (and irredeemably declare war).

We agree to go into Ipswich with the Gryphon officer. There are orderly ranks of bears marching to and fro. Digging things up, and houses with pink sheets on them being demolished. The locals seem to have some too (I.e. if your house was demolished then you got a pink sheet).

Things are orderly and, while the air is pregnant with promises of things to come, you can see off duty bears playing the accordion and drinking stout, stiff backed Gryphons duel on cricket pitches.

By the by, I haven't really talked about landcruisers. If you look at a MKV male tank and then superimpose a TOG II* on it, you're basically there.

In the center of town we start seeing what can only be anti aircraft guns (aircraft not really being a thing in Britbongsteros beyond zeppelins, this is strange) along with (in the town square) an enormous telescope.

The county hall seems to have been requisitioned to serve as HQ for the annexation. Aside from the presence of Germans, there's not really a great deal that seems to have changed. Aside of course from the Imperial Eagle sitting outside.

When I say sitting I mean perched. It's an actual Reichsadler in the flesh. I.e. it has two heads, feathers and talons. It's quite happily tucking into a can of corned beef and dressed in what can only be a military uniform.

It should be noted two heads is actually an error on part of DM/me as the Reichsadler of the German empire only had one. The Austrians had two headed ones. So this one must have also been a bit Austrian somewhere in his heritage.

By the way anons, if you don't know anything about the German unification and Empire, I would strongly suggest reading up on it. It's a fascinating topic. A lot of devising these campaigns involved a great deal of historical research by me and DM. So while I'm thinking about it, you may enjoy [http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Influence_of_Sea_Power_Upon_History The Influence of Sea Power Upon History] which was one of the most interesting things I read for Britbongsteros. One further point, anon may note the progression of technology in Britbongsteros is quite rapid. Well game time so far has been around 2-3 years, so that is worth considering, also that the idea was it was somehow to go from Elizabethan to Pre WWI in its scope (that was sort of a goal at the start).

We didn't get too excited about it and just MST 3K'd it for a good story.

The Eagle is rapidly joined by a very large bear with huge moustaches.

He is introduced by the Gryphon as "Otto von Baarmarck" (Bismarck if your want to Google him) advisor to the Kaiser, represented by Herr Tirpitz of the Kaiserliche Marine (the eagle).

We are invited inside, the eagle perches on what appears to be an ornate... Well, perch. I'm sure it has a wonderfully complicated German name. Tirpitz doesn't add much to the conversation, Von Baarsmarck does most of the talking

He reiterates what we already know, that the Germans are annexing Ipswich and as they are nice guys, they are planning on paying for the damage they do and are moving civilians out of the area. They apologize for the inconvenience.

The one thing he doesn't actually tell us is why exactly they feel they need to do this?
:"Why? (Vhy?) Because we are incapable of defending ourselves."
:"So you invaded to prove a point?"
:"Nein. From what is coming. Herr Schiarperelli believes they will land sooner rather than later."
The Germans (we discover) know at least as much about the Martians as we do (it seems we may have some spies to kill soon) and Schiaperelli has had the planet under observation for months. He has worked out from the trajectory and some other calculations (possibly involving a dart and a map) that this is the most likely landing site.

We are then stuck with a bit of a problem. If there are Martians coming then we really ought not to be fighting each other, nor should we be asking the Germans to go home.

We have a further problem, to stop the Landcruisers (which are about a day away), we will need to convince them to do so. We then realize the average citizen of Britbongsteros, even one in command of a Landcruiser brigade, is going to find us asking them to stop from "bashing the bosch" (sorry Germ-anons) because we are raving about Martians laughable. Why? Only the Privy Council and us know about them.

There is a little ooc discussion at this point, including my favourite "why is nothing ever simple in this setting..."

We don't really fancy our chances in convincing the commanding officers of the taskforce (slowly) motoring its way here.

We decide to do some more fact finding before deciding on our next step.

More to the point though, the Germans seem awfully keen to tell us all this.

:"Why are you being so nice?"
:"Because if Grosse Britain falls then the aliens will have a base of operations, then Europe, and then the rest of this weird, nasty, violent, beautiful world will be ended."
:"Why didn't you just offer to help? Why invade."
They get a bit shifty at this point.

The door to the room busts in as what can only be described as [https://data.archive.moe/board/tg/image/1427/84/1427846265905.jpg a man-shaped crocodile skin handbag] is wheeled in. (If you don't know who that is, go watch Dr. Strangelove)

It appears Herr Schiaraperelli is not entirely human, or sane... (please note to everyone, I am so so sorry wherever you are from).
:"Mein unterkaiser, ve haff made zignifikant progress mit die deff raiii!"
Herr S. notices the new faces, and switches gear,
:"Ach vatt fine specimens such excellent breeding stock..."
He zips past Cruella and pokes at Angus's bicep. (This had sort of become a running joke by now)
:"Vould du kare to submit yourself to some of my (giggles insanely) ecksperimentaaaation?"
We try to get between him and Angus, but there's no separating the two, so we turn our attention to Von Baarsmarck.
:"Soooo... Death Ray?"
:"To use on the Martians of course, and acquire their technology, ensuring that the world will be ein reich..."
In the background Herr S. is babbling to Angus about
:"Mitt my super zerum derivved from ze gods toe ve could make you ten, twenty veet tall!"

Von Baarsmarck seems quite non-plussed,
:"Assuming any of us survive the landings, do not tell me that you British would not take the items for yourselves? This way, we ensure there is no..."
:"Death Ray Gap!" Cackles herr S.
Ok that sort of seems weirdly fair, we will just backstab them later... next comes the awkward bit...
:"So maybe we should leave now? Get the landcruisers stopped? Work together?"
Herr S. cackles again,
:"Du may kill or imprison ze rest, but I wish to keep zis one... and this one... Perhaps maybe I can keep all of them...."
One last try...
:"Your death ray will massacre our forces, and then you will face the aliens alone... you are very likely to lose, we all are..."
:"You have seen to much... heard too much, Herr DoktorProfessor, you may have them..."
It is worth remembering at this point that yes we can probably take everyone in the room easily enough, what we cannot do is fight our way out of town through an alarmed garrison.

Also, worth considering is Martians don't really like magic (or at least the north pole ones, it seems likely then that they may not have something like that.

So the party is taken away at gunpoint for MAD SCIENCE.

:>Why didn't you escape from the highly visible HQ where all of the German forces were concentrated?

Well that's why.

Arriving in Herr Schiaraperelli's lab we are greeted by tesla coils, fizzing falcon tubes, a smell of frying eggs, *things* in jars, and he offers some boiled sweets.

He explains that this is his "travel" lab and we are really missing out on the interesting stuff, but at least there was space aboard the Brunmiggi II to bring ZE DEATH RAY.

(It may be helpful for anon to look up Professor Death from ''That Mitchell and Webb Look'')

But that (zat?) is not why we're here, nein, we are here because he wants Angus for experimentation, and to this end he fills a syringe. Angus doesn't look terribly concerned.

:"Zis ist mein ubermensch zerum."
:"Bring it on" says our favourite camel-lover.

(It's worth adding we have had our weapons taken off us and stored we think in the guardhouse - which by-the-by also appears to be doubling as a barracks).

So Angus, being Angus, and not even tied up, accepts being stabbed in the arm with a novelty sized syringe. Angus gets this bizarre grin (as does his PC).

:>DM, what is this stuff?
:"Eet ist mein superzerum!"
:>Yes DM, but what does it *do*?
:"Zis vill make you stronger, ein Ubermensch!"
:Party: "DM, think about this!"
:Angus: "Oh yes!"
Angus starts to grow. To hulk out... (He has hulk level clothing. Thank fuck for that.)

Angus is getting bigger. Not just ripped but fuek huege, eight feet, ten feet.
:"Herr schiarparelli, this death ray, is it man portable?"
Angus flexes his enormously powerful hulk arms while Herr S. Enthusiastically babbles at a portable gramophone.
:"Herr S. You really cannot be this stupid."
:"Nein mein Ubermensch. I'm not."
The taser Herr S. fires knocks Angus on his arse. The rest of the charge knocks him out.
:"MEIN KAISER, I CAN WALK!"
He stands up and kicks Angus in the balls for good measure.
:>DM: "Come on guys, give me some credit..."

Herr S. Looks quizzically at us. He cocks his head to one side. He takes a box with flashy lights from his belt.
:"Zomethink is giffink powerful magical emanations. Ist not the fraulein... nor ze oaf... nor ze musician, ze wizard I know of... ze midget? Zis child's toy? Was ist das? Ein Pinguin!?"
At gun point he takes the purple penguin from my bandolier.
:"Und now to enter ze data into mein komputer und then ve proceed to ze dissection."
Herr S. Sits back down and wheels himself off.

Meanwhile, the rest of the party begin to properly size up our situation. We have eight attentive and armed bears, five unarmed party members.

So, captive (wrist manacles) and at gun point, the DM makes us whisper to one another or our communications will be overheard.

The Wizard's player is actually bit deaf, so he doesn't hear very much, only interjecting with the occasional "Fit?" (What?)

The rest of the party decides that Angus is out for the count (DM is having him roll to wake up every so often, but he keeps failing).

We know the Herr S. is probably going to sense anything magical before it happens (flashy box).

The bears can see us whispering (the Wizard's occasional "Fit?!" doesn't help), so giving up on any semblance of plan, when the nearest bear goes to crack me over the back of the head with his rifle, some violence occurs.

Cruella gets her chains around his neck, the wizard has the bear's now dropped rifle levitating.

While this is going on, the Bard kicks one bear in the balls and gets his rifle, and I (with a little jump and some mechanical arms) headbutt the other and then it's a Mexican standoff.

:>Why are you being non-lethal?

I didn't make this very clear earlier, but the DM had quite clearly told us that the more we fuck up the bears, the more we may suffer for it later. We decided to try our hardest not to kill anyone. So in effect, we are now murder hobos, without the murder. Hobos if you will.

Bear looks at man, dwarf looks at bear, (etc.) we're rolling intimidation, then Herr S. sweeps back into the room, having clearly heard/detected something.
:"Was ist los!? Meine Meerschweinchen! Nein!" ("What is this!? My guinea pigs, no!" Also "Meerschweinchen" is absolutely adorable as words go)
:"YOU. KICKED. ME. IN. THE. BALLS."
Angus wakes up and punches him in the side of the head (well, taps really - again non lethal).

With the Angus aided distraction, we subdue the rest of the bears and begin to take stock.

:>Things we need to do:
:1. Escape
:2. Disable death ray - hopefully not permanently
:3. Stop Britain declaring war (by driving several thousand tonnes of Landship through this place).

The bard has one of his ideas.

:>Some dicerolls and a small argument later.
:"Hey guys what's a wunderwaffe?"
:"It's German for... DO NOT TOUCH THAT."
:"Why does it sting or something?"

We decide to take one. The Navvie, as the only party member who can be trusted not to set it off out of curiosity/fun/accident, is entrusted with it.

We decide to have a quick look out the door of the building - [https://data.archive.moe/board/tg/image/1428/50/1428508080888.jpg - pic related].

So with that outside, and as the bears are... well, bears... that rather rules out the traditional steal their clothes approach, as does the fact Angus is 12 feet of Orc.

:>Diplomacy tiem
Cautiously, we poke a white flag (made mostly from Herr S.'s labcoat) around the doorframe. That doesn't get shot, so we poke our heads round.
:"Don't shoot, we have a doomsday device and are not afraid to use it!"
:"Do you know how to?"
:Wizard: "I'm rolling to bluff"
:"Yes!"
:"Alright, what do you want?"
:"Free passage out of here and a promise you will not use the death ray if we can stop the British forces from attacking."
:"That seems reasonable."
Hmm, that went better than expected. We nervously proceed out of the building, doomsday device in tow. We get most of the way out of town before someone remembers, aren't we forgetting someone?

:Navvie, check,
:Cruella, check,
:Aldous, check,
:Cruella, check,
:Bard, check,
:Angus, check.
No we're all here... Aren't we?

Oh shit.
:"Ok, large group of angry well armed bears, we're turning round!"

The bears seem confused, but ok with it, it's getting dark by the time we have retrieved the extremely annoyed looking penguin, Herr S. laments the loss of his Wunderwaffe, but kindly suggests that dropping it is a really bad idea (so at least we now know how to activate it).

When the bears realize what and why we went back, we're a laughing stock, if you've heard the chuckling of several thousand bears, it is not a nice thing. I think the purpose of the ridicule (or DM's) was for us forgetting him.

Penguin in tow, we head off again. There's a very large star in the sky that no one recognizes and some fainter ones too... It seems we don't have long...

Now we have our real problem. Martians aren't far off and the pride of the British army is about to attack our next best hope in the morning. We book it back to our lines.

The DM punishes us for our stupidity when we hit the dirt as our own sentries fire on us (don't run around in war zones).

When we eventually convince them not to shoot us (for some reason we have also progressed to Lee Enfield rifles), we enter the camp. There are tents and the huge looming bulk of the landcruisers, if you (I hate this term) diesel-punked a Bolo, you're not far off. They glow a little with the light of magic, it appears the oil is already being used. The wizard detects a presence within them. An additional note, Angus is slowly shrinking back to normal size.

We pause momentarily near the HMLS AR4 (it has "Arthur" painted next to this).
:>HELLO
Oh fuck no. We made Bolos.
:[http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bolo_%28tank%29 >Wut is a Bolo?]

:"Hi... Hi?"
:>I AM UNIT AR4 OF THE LINE. PLEASE CALL ME ARTHUR.
(Wizard and I are huge Bolo nuts so have gone all fangirl by this point. Cruella, Angus, and Bard continue to engage in conversation)
:"What... are you?"
:>I AM A BRITISH OFFENSIVE LINE OPERATIONS-UNIT
:>squee
Our Ghurkha escort urge us onwards, we rather hope we might get to meet more BOLOs later (we do).

We are escorted to the command tent, we recognize Sir Clarkson-May, and Sir Hobart, along with Sir Stahig. In addition are two well know faces: Sir Barnes Wallis (who is... wiki him, awesome read) and Sir Patrick ROBOT DEATH MACHINE Moore.

With Sir Patrick Murderborg Moore here this may make our task a little easier. We explain where things stand. He is particularly pleased to see Herr S.'s device.

Sir Patrick takes the device off us for safe keeping, the military men are still in favour of assault. Sir Patrick is adamant that it would be unwise. That we should prepare for the first ship (he has also worked out where it's going to land) and that we should head back to London where he expects the heaviest fighting to be.

Sir Patrick doesn't manage to convince the military folk, they are of the opinion that we should wipe out the Germans (real threat of course), then deal with the Martians.

Struck by this remarkable bit of military daftness, and even Sir Patrick can't sway them, we appear a bit stuck. The most advanced armour on earth is going to ram itself against the death ray tomorrow unless we do something.

The military men are moving landcruiser shaped counters around the map and ignoring us so we decide to head back out to collect our thoughts. We end up back near AR4.
:>HELLO AGAIN HUMANS AND HUMAN APPROXIMATIONS.
:"Hello AR4."
:>YOU APPEAR TROUBLED. WHY IS THIS?

We explain the situation.

AR4 stays quiet for a bit. We start to think he isn't talking to us.
:>SO IN SUMMATION, AN ATTACK ON A POSSIBLE ALLY WOULD SQUANDER OUR FORCES PRIOR TO ENGAGEMENT WITH THE REAL THREAT?
:>some dice are being rolled here.
:"Yes, essentially."
If he's listening then we might as well talk to him.
:"AR4 what is your primary duty?"
:>TO DEFEND THE REALM.
:"Against all threats?"
:>ALTHOUGH I HAVE NOT YET TASTED BLOOD, I KNOW THERE ARE NO THREATS TO ME.
(You might change your mind there)
:"But if there was a threat to the entire realm, would you face it needlessly diminished?" (nice rollan occurs)
:>HUMAN MALE IN A SKIRT, I CAN SEE WHAT YOU ARE ATTEMPTING. WE HAVE ALREADY DECIDED NOT TO RIDE OUT TOMORROW. WE WAIT. WE WAIT FOR THE TRUE CHALLENGE.
Across the field, other Landcruisers light up their sensors, flashing affirmatives. The most patriotic thing we have met today was a very large tenk.
:>The following morning.
:>Dawn.
Sparrows flit across the sky, in the gloaming the world rises, grasses still wet with dew. A hedgehog wends his weary way to bed beneath the great amroured flanks of AR4.

Sir Richard Clarkson-May unsheathes his saber. A trumpet sounds.
:"Drive me closer. I want to hit them with my sword."
:>NO.
:"Wut?"
:>YOUR ORDER WAS ANSWERED IN THE NEGATIVE.

Watching from nearby with a bacon buttie, we decide we should probably make ourselves scarce. Sir Patrick Moore and wunderwaffe in tow.

Above us, the lights in the sky grow stronger, visible even in daylight now. Above serried ranks of motionless landcruisers, above the German defences, above us.

Tonight the Martians will land. The first battle of a war no one wants will begin.

Martian war call: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

We are nearly at the end of this adventure (tbh it was more a of set up for the last one anyway) and about this stage a discussion took place after a session.
:DM: "After this... Well, look... All good things come to an end right?"
:>The party agree.
:DM: "You want to go out with a bang right? You don't want me to hold back?"
:>ohshit.jpg
:"We guess not?"
:>DM cracks his knuckles. "The bad news is you're all going to die, the good news, is it will be awesome."

:>'''Disclaimer:''' if you are attached to anything in Britbongsteros, you may wish to stop reading now.

We wait for dark, the British (some of the senior officers are still swearing at the Bolos), the bears across the fields, and the party with Sir Patrick.

The day is quiet. The lights in the sky grow and grow. The brightest is heading straight for us.

The day has an eerie quiet to it. A heavily pregnant pause. No one appears minded to shout at us for causing the Bolos to refuse orders but we keep out of the way. Occasional patrols of bears meet with ours, they exchange cigarettes. Attempts to teach the bears cricket do not go well.

Darkness falls as it must.

High command still intends on attacking the Germans (though Sir Stahig refuses to commit his Ghurkhas, and the Bolos aren't shifting).

DM introduces a new mechanic:

For the first time we have friendly troops. We may if we so seek, inspire them. It will help.

We have been chatting with AR4 and he shares his findings with his counterparts. We learn about Bolos and he learns about the tale of the purple penguin.

AR4 and Cruella have made friends. Other units including B3A have responded occasionally.

:>On the Bolos of Britbongsteros:
:They are smart, they are also the first real sentient race that has been created, their minds inspired by the automatons of London. The amount of magic and technology within them ensured that what was meant to be a machine spirit became self aware. It was decided (based Sir Hobart) that this was actually incredibly useful. So they were taught, taught the ideals of knights. Bolos exist to protect and are one of the few genuinely good things in the setting. Except of course being fueled by oil, blood, and some of those soul cube things from waaaay back in the first adventure.

Dusk turns to dark, dark into night, but the lights are still above us. The largest now the size of a saucer, the sonic boom that precedes it knocks men flat, windows are blown out, the Navvie's beer bottle shatters.

The light grows, like daylight now as the thing decelerates, bits of what must be heat shield raining down around us.

It hits the ground. Hard. About five miles from our position. A huge plume of dust washes over us with the shock wave.

What we can see in the distance are the raised sides of a crater. Sounds of hammering, blight plasma flashes, and tortured metal reach us even from here.

The bard hops up onto the turret of AR4 as crews mount up. Ghurkhas get into formation. Khuhkris gleam in the dark.

He plays [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-rHdSWZLpQ Ennio Morricone The Ecstasy of Gold].

From the crater comes the Martian war call: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

A black smoke starts to rise from the crater, spilling between waiting armies, the fitful light of the moon obscured. Darkness almost absolute. Visibility down to 75 metres.

The bard plays on.

We wait.

The twin 16" guns of AR4 track left in the darkness.

In their gas masks the Ghurkhas wait. A sea of bayonets glint in the darkness. Breathing heavily in our own, vision fogging, we scan the darkness. Martian war call: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]
:Wizard: "How can you play the bagpipes in a gas mask bard?"
:>DM & rest of party: "Because fuck you. Shut up."
The Navvie has acquired a Union Jack from the semaphore lines of AR4, knitting it about his shoulders. Looking like an anglican version of Thor.

The purple penguin looks on waiting lines of nervous men. The world may be a horrible, vicious, nasty place, a place where children have no childhoods, a world where gods make men playthings, a world of blood and pain, but there is still hope in this world, there are still purple penguins, and now, Mars has come to take even that from us.

Flickers of magic begin to play around the barrels of AR4, Cruella starts as Excalibur bursts into flame, red, white and blue.

This battle will see the beginning of the war, not even the end of the beginning, there are still seven more dots up there.

From out of the black smoke, great silver shapes begin to rise. Small metallic items grow lighter.

Then...

Silence.

Darkness.

The first red pulse of laserfire immolates four score of men, screaming skeletons silhouetted in the darkness and then all hell breaks loose.

Fighting machines tower in the darkness as waves of Martian infantry wash from the smoke.

The Bolos duel with the fighting machines, guns tracking, firing, tracks crushing Martians as they advance.
:"Ayoooo ghoorkha!"
The infantry charge with the tanks, halting every few feet for volley fire, but it's seconds before bayonet meets energy sword, khukhri meets claw.

The party fights in the mist of the the smoke, flares casting some light. A fighting machine goes down, casing cracked by shellfire. Elsewhere a Bolo in flames from tip to stern rams another before exploding.

The party fight and fight hard, the night a wash of images of violence. The Navvie smashing skulls, Cruella leaping from creature to creature, the wizard and I back to back on a mound of corpses, Angus cackling as he burns his way to us.

Lightning crackles through the sky, the landing of the ship having caused enough atmospheric change for it to rain. A green pulse flashes through the sky, impacting deep in Martian lines - the death ray at work.

Men fall, rent asunder, Bolos are wrecked one by one. There seem no end to the Martians, we push forward, making progress into the tide but for every step we lose more men.

Lasers wash through the smoke. It seems for every fighting machine that falls, others lumber from the darkness. It is impossible to tell how the battle is going, we can see the great hulk of AR4 ahead of us, Martian corpses crushed in his wake. The Bard still on his turret booting the occasional Martian off.

We fight through the night, bodies piling high, the Martians it seems are implacable, they will not break. They will not run. Are we winning? We genuinely can't tell.

A headless Martian lands at my feet. Followed swiftly by the other half of it. Lit in the darkness by his chain guns is Sir Patrick Cyborgmurdertron Moore, he seems to know what he's doing so we join him. Side by side. Advancing on the LZ.

Suddenly from out of the darkness, the crater walls loom. As does something else. Bears. And one familiar chap in a wheelchair.

We start to climb the crater walls. Not knowing what we'll find. AR4 covers us as we ascend, ramming his way through the earthern parapet and firing his guns at their lowest depression, laser fire crackling over his upper front plate and baking the earth covering his LFP into some sort of ceramic.

We get our first look at what lies below us while the battle rages behind us.

Some more mood music: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nl8mmoH_63g For A Few Dollars More - Final Duel Music ]

Think back to us, the rain has soaked the still warm earth of the parapet into mud, on the other side of this thing, hell lies below us, actinic plasma flashes wash upward, we ascend, clawing into mud, to our side AR4 keeps firing, his armour melting.

Behind us the first battle of Britbongsteros rages. Fighting machines and Bolos, men and martians, hell on earth. The sound of it is a physical thing, this is not the war we first knew, a war of heroes, this is industrial scale violence, German artillery thunders down into the landing site, directed we think somehow by Herr S.

We pause at the brim, laser fire raking across it.

Sir Patrick Moore is the first to go over the top, we follow, below us is the sight of the first stage of Martian conquest.

Automated machinery assembling fighting machines, squadrons of Martian troops being cut down by AR4 even as others scramble up and out into battle.

At the very center of what is almost a Martian city, we can see a green glow.

The party knows from experience, we are going straight towards that, big glowy things are usually exactly where you have to go.

We number about twenty in total between party, bears, Sir Patrick, and us.

The terrain below us, in the thunder of guns, the flash of lightning, the pulse of energies no man could ever stand against, looks for all the world like a city, the exterior of the first ship. We shout over the noise, Herr S. and Sir Patrick agree, we are going to make straight for that glowy thing (yes that's what it's called), Sir Patrick hefts something, a familiar something.
:Herr S: "Mein Wuderwaffe!"
We look at each other, let's do this.
:"VORWARTS FUR DIE WISSENSCHAFT!" Herr S. and the bears roll (in his case literally) down the hill, not to be outdone,
:"BY ENGLAND AND ST. GEORGE, WE ARE HERE TO FUCK YOU UP GLOWY THING!" (we are not good at battle cries)

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyF8RHM1OCg Whitesnake - Here I Go Again '87]

We go over the top, we get the better part of thirty metres down, sliding, slipping, loose mud sloshing before us onto the metal of the decking, our boots ring on it soon after. The Martian's attention is fixed on AR4, and he does his best to keep it, even over the noise, we can hear his engines, see the earth bank in front of his hull break, and down he comes, tonnes of Sheffield steel, crashing onto the hull of the ship, if this is his first battle, it will also be his last, but he, as he makes for the fighting machine assembly line, will sell himself dearly.

As he tears past, we see a little something on the side of his turret. It's purple.
:"Where did that come from?"
:Cruella: "He wanted one of his own. I can paint."
The OOC is cut short as Martian infantry start to notice us, we take cover, returning fire.

Then from behind us.
:>Shave and a haircut.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZlDZPYzfm4 Iron Maiden - Run To The Hills]

:"Was ist los?" One of the bears asks as one of his spent shell casings floats past his muzzle, we've dealt with this before.

Cruella is up and over the bear's head, eyes closed, seemingly from nowhere bits of bodies start appearing. The wizard hold's Angus by the shoulder, directing his fire.

Sir Patrick kicks through a wall, and laughing as he goes, hoses Martian infantry with large caliber rounds.

Then Herr S.'s chair starts floating.

He jumps from the thing (he can actually walk remember?)

We have to struggle to hang on to weapons as they start to rise, there is a flash and a fizzle in our midst, the cloaking field (think predator) goes down on something very large, and very fast.

It's big, carnifex sized. It takes apart one bear with a slash, then another. I turn the shotgun on it, blowing chunks from it, the Navvie points at it.
:"YOU!"
It paws at the deck. It knows a challenge when it sees one.

I start trying to get behind it, as the Navvie spreads his arms in a come-at-me-bro way.
:"TRY ME, COME ON!"
It spreads all of it's claws, and roars, spittle landing on the Navvie's chest from the better part of 5 metres.

I'm behind it now, I aim for the backs of the knees. Hitting critically, the thing goes down on it's belly. The Navvie nonchalantly walks forward, and busts it's skull open.
:"Twat."
He spits on it, and we start to pursue the Martian infantry who have begun to break.

Elsewhere, AR4 sings a song to himself as he takes damage, his left track unit running on wheels only now, guns glowing red.
:>Daisy... daisy....

:>Why are you still talking about the Bolo?
DM had noticed we had already gotten fond of him, and if the DM can, the DM will break your heart and burn everything you ever loved.

We push onwards, it can't be more than 300 metres to the center of the thing.

The closer we get, the quieter it seems to be, we can barely even hear the battle above for the low thrum of whatever the glowy thing is, we reckon it might be a power source, we don't care, if we chuck enough explosives at it, sheer narrative alone says that should fuck the thing up good and proper.

:>200 metres

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mHe6FMs46o Iron Maiden - The Number of the Beast]

We're closing in, no Martians, just that low, low thrum, you can feel it in your chest, in your teeth.

:>150 metres

AR4 considers tactical withdrawal, rejects it, and decides to sell his life for a country he has never really known. Martian infantry swarm his hull, he allows himself to take laser fire from the nearest walker, immolating them, and another section of ablative armour.

:>100 metres

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

:>75 metres

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

:>Where is that coming from?

:>50 metres.

Oh fuck. Fighting machine.

The thing fires straight at us, the DM has us all roll to dodge it, we all pass. Except the bard.

We're blinded by the flash. When we can see again, he's still standing, still piping, glowing saltire standing between him and the beam. It fades out and he starts laughing. (I.e. fate point used).
:"I AM ALIVE AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" ([http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_1DNzc2aX8&t=25m19s see])
It starts to charge to fire again
:DM: "Are you gonna take cover Bard?"
:Bard: "Why? I AM ALIVE."
:DM: "That laser is charging up."
:Bard: "So! BRING IT!"
The Navvie knocks the stupid bastard aside and into cover with a shoulder barge.

DM made it quite clear while he poured a beer that the bard was about another second away from dying.

The laser burns a hole in the hull instead.

We take cover behind a large building, the fighting machine stomping towards us.

We have about five or six seconds to plan.

We look at each other... err...
:"AT-AT?"
:"AT-AT."
The wizard summons chains, snaking them out toward it. Cruella distracts its fire as the most agile. The chains hold tight, the thing totters, falls. Legs flailing uselessly, laser pointed at the sky.

We smash the thing to bits and proceed to the glowy thing.

We examine the glowy thing, it's definitely... glowy... beyond that, no one has the damndest idea what to do with it.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CbGKsjQ09I ULLA]

There's another one, and another one, and another.

We can't take three of them.

Sir Patrick hefts the wunderwaffe and runs into the glow, deeper into the ship and what we assume is the power generator.
:"GO!"
Before we can stop him, he tuns toward the glow, the thing beeping in his hand.
:Herr S. helpfully adds: "Ve should be leaving..."
We start to run, elsewhere, AR4 fights on.

We run, firing, killing as fast as we can, making as quickly as we can for that muddy parapet, Martians pursue us, Herr S. and the bears take cover.
:"Go, we will hold them."
We aren't going to say no, struggling up through the mud, it's clawing at us, slowing us, fire pattering around us, the climb is slow, excruciating.

We fling ourselves up over the parapet, slithering down the other side. The land before us is a sea of flame, the battle still raging.

We run toward it, away from the ship.

Within, Sir Patrick wades through bodies, laughing,
:"I always wanted to meet alien life! and KILL THEM!"

The parapet shields us from most of the force of the blast, but we are knocked flat.

The rest of the battle is vicious and messy, but with the ship gone, the alien's spirit is broken, the Bolos and Ghurkha's mop them up. We do our best to assist, eventually the sun rises fitfully over a blasted, lunar landscape, wrecks still burn, bodies bleed and scream.

Ghurkhas stalk over the fields, giving peace to their comrades, finishing off Martians.

Bloodied, victorious, and with seven more stars falling above us. We begin the final tale of Britbongsteros.

===The War of the Worlds===
The smoking wrecks of landcruisers and fighting machines litter the once green fields. Bodies lie where they fell. The smell of slowly roasting flesh, shit, and cordite lingers. Every so often sporadic fire can be heard as rounds cook off in wrecks or a less than dead Martian is found.

All told of the divisions that fought yesterday, less than half of the men (and German bears) are left, of the brigade of landcruisers (think Bolo) there are two thirds. These are not the total number of forces in the British isles, but they were a significant number. It is clear conventional means will never have a chance of stopping every one of the landings.

Given the way the Martians construct fighting machines and appear endless, if even one of these ships were operational for more than a couple of days, the nation and then the world would be irredeemably fucked.

We can't stop them landing. The last of Sir Patrick's notes indicated a ring of ships landing around London, with the last, and largest, landing in the center of the city.

The party discuss.

:>Topic for debate:
:>We are fucked.
:>What do we do?
:Angus: "Acquire as many cattle and as much alcohol as possible and then start digging. They surely can't find all of us, perhaps in the sewer systems or an old mine?"
:Navvie: "We go to a whorehouse and then prepare to meet death. Take as many with us as we can."
:Cruella: "We could get a boat? Then... no. We fight."
:Bard: "They must have a weakness. Something. We fight."
:Wizard: "Och fuck this place, whit has et e'er doon fir us?"
:Me: "We fight. The purple penguin expects. There is nowhere to run. They'll find us, better to die where it might mean something."
The mention of the purple penguin and the last OOC discussion about giving things a good send off seals the discussion. We also have someone there who has fought these martians before.

Instructions have already been relayed for the forces remaining in the Isles to converge on London, and with scant time remaining, we make our way there ourselves as quickly as possible.

The remains of the privy council meet us at Cutlers Hall. They seem well informed of what the world can expect. Richard III is already in armour, Blackadder's gorilla servant, Baldrick, lingers in the background, eying everything suspiciously. Cromwell is elsewhere, organizing the defense of the city. The citizens are either leaving or forming levies, those that do leave are being turned round and formed into "special battalions." The watch word of the day is "You can always take a Martian with you."

Sam Johnson was rather proud of that one, it is he who leads us down to Sir Patrick's lab, and our old friend, Antgyros.

As anon may recall, Antgyros is a Martian of an entirely different stripe to what is coming. We found him in Egypt and sealed him into a lead ball. He is in effect, an irascible bowling ball. In Sir Patrick's lab, we expect to find him sealed up somewhere or imprisoned, he is instead doing double duty as a paper weight, with a book propped open in front of him.
:>How does a bowling ball see?
He's psychic. He can't melt your face off, but he can bounce about and sense things around him. This appears to include books.
:>AAAH, MY FAVOURITE MEAT BASED SERVANTS. ABASE YOURSELVES BEFORE ME AND EXPLAIN EXACTLY HOW YOU INTEND TO PROTECT ME FROM IMPENDING DOOM.
Antgyros is oddly needy for hating everyone around him.
:"Hello in there. We were rather hoping you could help us..."
:>HELP YOU? HA. I WOULD NOT LISTEN TO YOUR MEWLING IF NOT TO AMUSE MYSELF. PLEASE CONTINUE.
:"We were hoping you might be able to tell us about the Martians, the other martians. Maybe you can help us defeat them?"
:>HOW MANY SHIPS ARE COMING? SIX MORE YOU SAY, AND ONE LARGER THAN THE OTHERS? PERHAPS IT IS BEST YOU KILL YOURSELVES NOW. THE FINAL SHIP CONTAINS THE NEMESIS OF MY PEOPLE. THE KING.
:"Would defeating the king help us at all?"
:>PAH. NOT EVEN I COULD DO THAT. THAT IS WHY I WAS EXILED HERE. THEN YOUR "GODS" SEALED ME INTO THAT HOLE. NO, IF I CANNOT DEFEAT THE MASTER OF THE HIVE, YOU HAVE NO HOPE. THIS IS RATHER A GOOD BOOK HOWEVER. I ENJOY YOUR TALES OF THIS SHERLOCK OF HOLMES.
Reading between the lines, it appears Antgyros has just given us something of a clue. If we can take the king down, it may throw the hive into disarray, maybe even long enough to make a material change to the conflict. It appears more likely, however, it will give us all one last most impressive 'fuck you' to fate.

The party withdraws from the lab. We think we have enough to go on. At the very least DM just gave us a plothook and we are taking it line and sinker. As far as we know, the Martians intend on doing some very bad things to Earth and if we don't even try to stop them here, then that's it. Game over for everyone. We decide we have a couple more questions for Antgyros and return to him.
:"Antgyros, what exactly will the Martians do?"
:>HA YOU RETURN. UNABLE TO LEAVE MY PRESENCE I SEE. THE SMALLER SHIPS WILL LAND. MUCH AS THE ONES YOU FOUGHT.
(We didn't tell him that did we?)
:>AND THEN THE FINAL SHIP WILL LAND. THE KING WILL [as one of the few psychic - note psychic not magic] ACTIVATE THE RITUALS REQUIRED FOR DEVOURING THE MAGIC OF THIS EARTH.
:"Again Antgyros, what would happen if the king died?"
:>HE WILL NOT, BUT IT WOULD THROW THE DRONES INTO COMPLETE DISARRAY.
:"Ok we've heard enough. You're coming with us."
:>MY BOOOOK!
Cruella picks him up and we stuff him into the Navvie's rucksack. He can still be heard, albeit slightly muffled, shouting.

We reveal the above to Privy council, who agree the above is probably our only hope. They suggest we use the remaining half a day or so to draw as much support as we can, call in old favours and generally be as prepared as possible.
:>First stop
:>John Borrison.

So the party have had a think, we decide of all the people that owe us favours, John Borrison is the easiest to reach.

There's still King Rorke, all of Egypt (though maybe a bit tricky to get a hold of), Scotland is a bit far at the moment, and of course King Algie is already here (and useless), but the British forces that can reach London by nightfall are doing so (this includes a couple of highland regiments on exercise). The Thames south of Tower Bridge are filling up with battleships. The population are either miserable or drunk and miserable. Some are cheerful, expecting the "blitz spirit" to see them through ("It'll all be over by Christmas! and then we'll have a nice cup of tea, stiff upper lip etc.").

John Borrison, as always, is pleased to see us - or at least as far as we can tell, what with him being mostly tree.

:"You're alive! For now. I wonder how these Martians feel about trees, if they don't feel too bad about them, I wonder what I can sell them, everything wants something to shove up its nose, or something so it can hold its nose up over everyone else, or fuck, possibly up its nose, and John Borrison has the lot. Now if I was a little green man, what do you think I'd want? Little green whores? Little green drugs? That big green one (he means Angus) likes sheep, so maybe... TINY SHEEP!"
John Borrison makes a note to himself as we utterly fail to impress upon him the severity of the situation.
:"John, focus, is there anything you might actually be able to do to help?"
:"King Rorke is already coming to see me, I thought a telegraph to him might not hurt, by the way, you can all sort out paying me sooner rather than later for that favour. Now as to what I can actually do... I'm a bit limited there, being a man of business... However..."
As mentioned previously, John borrison does a line in just about anything as long as you don't inquire too closely into its parentage/veracity/or indeed question authenticity.

It appears however, he as some 100% certified bits of God. Fresh from Egypt. They look a lot like pickled herring.

He also has somehow acquired a wunderwaffe.

(If the DM is being a bit obvious here in kitting us out, we were not going to complain)

We gratefully take the goods he has provided us with, on the condition that we each give him something that means something to us and we agree that when the war is over, we will do our best to get him made Sir John Borrison.

We dutifully hand over:
:A ring, a comb, a lock of camel fur, a drinking cup, a chanter, and a dwarvish match holder.

King Rorke arrives shortly thereafter, his men waiting outside the city. He's brought not only himself, but some Irish people (sorry Ireland).
:>It's DM Dilemma time.
King Rorke remains as bro-tier as he did last time, however the Irish folk (if you may recall from last time, they summoned Cthulhu and all of his friends), we are a bit more skeptical of. So once we've finished bear hugging, King Rorke swears that he will stand by us, while the Welsh cannot do much in a mechanized war such as this, they will skirmish, they will assist, and they will die with us.

The Irish however are a different matter.

We take our first real good look at them.

On a hot day, have you ever looked far into the distance along a long straight road? You know how the heat shimmers? Imagine if that was a what they had for eyes. You can't hold their gaze, your eyes just slide off them.

They speak sibilantly.
:"Weeeeee would alllllsooo wisssssssh asssissst."
:"King Rorke, what the fuck are these?"
On the one hand, we know we'll we need all the help we can get, but if these are the same guys who were into all the blood sacrifice and Cthulhu summoning, who essentially made Ireland in the Chaos wastes, well...

We take a straw poll among the party. We decide to ask them what exactly they can do for us.
:"Ttttthee oooold ones dissslike the interlllllooopers as much as you do."
:"Old. Ones."
:"Yesssss."
The Wizard speaks up.
:"What do they want in return?"
:"Mmmmaany souls will be rre--reeeleased in these c-c-c-c-c-oming dayzzzz."
(They seem to be getting excited, their lips don't quite synch up with their words)
:"Tttthe oooo-ooolll-D onessszzs wishhhhh to fffffeast."
:"Ok, so, essentially you want to eat the souls of the dead, and in return you offer us Cthulhu?"
:"Hmm..."
:[As an aside, it was about this stage that the bard pointed out, "If I just run up to the Martians and shout 'JAPAN, WEEABOO, HENTAI, NINJA BUKKAKE SAKE KATANA TENTACLE HELLO-KITTY DOMO ARIGATO FUTANARI' Godzilla will rape them," the response was a unanimous "shut the fuck up Bard."]

So, yes Cthulhu might be useful, but that's going to be kind of a problem. Who knows what insanity might fall out of a portal or what these crazies might need to do it.

Actually that's rather a good point. How are they going to summon god knows what (or who knows what god)?
:"Wwwwhhat ma-ma-makes you thiiiiiink he is is not ready-already here?"
:"Hang on. What looney god do you people follow?"
:"P...p...p...p...endragon...."
This lost some dramatic effect when the first time the DM did the p p p p p sound, Cruella said, "Pick up a Penguin" [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fI0Fa66h6Qo P-p-p-p-pick-up-a-penguin being a well known advertising slogan here.]
:"So wait, now we have Martians, your insane god, who is the once and future king of fucking reality, and you want us to help summon him and his mates?"
:"Will he go home afterwards?"
:"Wwwith suuuuiiiiiiitable tribuuuuute."
Ok that settles it, you can all fuck off. (is what we want to say, but having Cthulu or whatever appear in the middle of Man vs Martian also doesn't seem like a wonderful idea, on the other hand...)
:"Where exactly will he be summoned?"
:"Wwwwwaaaatffffford."
For those anons who have not looked at Britbongsteros on a map recently, you may note that London is circled by a ring road, we are expecting the ship that isn't landing in the city center to land along that.

John borrison helpfully adds.
:"It sounds to me like you folks will need l the help you can get."
The Navvie has had enough.
:"Seriously, why are we even discussing this. It. Eat. Souls. Whose to say we can even get rid of this thing when we summon it. No. No help from me and no help from any of you if you're thinking straight."
Cruella rebutts.
:"We literally need all the help we can get. I say we take the help and deal with the consequences after."
I side with the Navvie.
:"This isn't what we stand for. This isn't right."
Wizard agrees.

Angus takes Cruella's side.
:"We have killed these things before. We need all the bullet catchers we can."
Bard makes it a tie.
:"Who knows, it might not be so bad after all. it's only Cthulhu..."
We have an impasse. The Penguin looks on, remaining stoically silent.

The Navvie's rucksack, however, does not.
:>ANTGYROS DEMANDS RELEASE.
:"Pardon?"
:>REMOVE ME FROM THIS SACK.
John Borrison suddenly looks very, very interested, as do the cultists.

King Rorke headbutts a cask of beer open and pays little attention to proceedings.
:>I DEMAND ATTENTION.
:"We know you do."
:>MARTIANS LACK THE VITAL ESSENCE YOU WOULD CALL A SOUL. ALL EXCEPT THE ROYAL CASTE. THE MARTIANS WOULD BE OF NO USE TO YOUR "GOD" ONLY THE HUMANOIDS AND CERTAIN BREEDS OF TERRAN ARACHNID HAVE SOULS.
As some of you may recall, the wizard hates spiders.
:"Spiders!?"
:>YES, WHY DO YOU THINK YOUR HOVEL OF A PLANET IS NOT RULED BY THE ANTS?
We gently persuade the wizard to calm down,
:"Ok we'll come back to that later."
:"So what you're saying is, the Martians won't sate Cthulhu, it'll need human sacrifice."
:Cultist 1: "Yheeeth, uuuuuussssss."
:"So cultists, you plan on basically running at the Martians, getting slaughtered, then Cthulhu turns up and eats them?"
:"Iiittt wwwi wi wi will be a glorious ssssacrificcce."
:"That's a yes then."
:Cruella: "Ok, so that's not so bad is it guys?"
The DM is failing utterly to hide a smile. He's obviously pleased at how well his plan to cause friction within the party is going.

The Navvie (as previously mentioned) is a simple man. His hammer busts open Cultist one's head like a dropped watermelon.
:"Sorry about the mess John."
:King Rorke claps, "And that's how you win an argument!"
Cultist 2 seems entirely nonplussed.
:"Sooooo... w-w-w-e have a deeeeeeal?"

Trusting them, or really doing anything with the cultists seems like rather a bad idea, but they could be useful. So in the end, we went with it. It's a problem the rest of the world can deal with. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that.

The Navvie is not happy about it.

John Borrison isn't terribly pleased either, but that's more to do with his carpet (He currently has a very blue carpet with a big red splodge in it).

Cultist 2 quite happily fucks off to be creepy somewhere near Watford, complete with a letter of recommendation from us.

We still have a feeling this is going to bite us in the ass later.

John Borrison is still admiring Antgyros
:"How much for the bauble?"
:>BAUBLE? I'LL SHOW YOU BAUBLE!
Antgyros rolls about the table in what he hopes is a menacing fashion. He bumps into a large salt cellar and comes to a halt.
:>SEE. FEAR ME.
The thing is, Antgyros actually should be terrifying, but as he is just now, he really isn't and no one seems to have told him. At some point Angus drew a smiley face on the lead ball. Forgot when. The fun part is, Antgyros can sort of "sense" things around him, but he can't actually ''see'' so he has no idea.

John nudges Antgyros with a branch.
:"Can I keep him?"
:"Sorry John, we think we might need him."
:"Hmm, I'd like one of these for my collection. Tell me bauble, are there more of you?"
:>I ANTGYROS AM UNIQUE. I AM THE ONE AND ONLY.
:"Then I think the men of John Borrison will go to war. I want to keep this thing afterwards. Do we have a deal?"
:"Fuck yes."
>WHAT?
One final thing occurs to me.
:"John, you collect all sorts of weird and wonderful stuff right?"
:"Yes."
:"Have you got any guns?"
:"Yes... do you want to see?"

:>Elephant gun unlocked.

John Borrison agrees to meet us at sunset near Fleet Street.

We return to the privy council and begin to take in the plan for tonight

[[Image:Britbong_map_1.png|thumb|left|150px]]This shows the 6 expected landing sites. The green one in the middle is where we will be going (more on that in the next map).

[[Image:Britbong_map_2.jpg|thumb|150px]]Ok, red arrows are "Diversionary attacks" (Highlanders and Landcruisers)

Blue Square is Naval units who will sail down the Thames and try to keep fighting machines from crossing.

Purple arrow is us.

By the way, Anon will note that St Paul's Cathedral is just above the Blue (Navy) square. Slightly to the left of that is Newgate, which is where Cutler's Hall and the Privy Council are. This is where we would be seeing these maps and receiving communications from the front.

So Cutler's Hall is where we are. We are on the roof with the Privy Council, they'll shortly be going up to St Paul's Cathedral to observe, and attempt to co-ordinate, but for now here we are.

We can see fire streaking through the sky. Below us London waits, five pillars of light fall, the bard mounts the gable and stands, silhouetted against the dusk sky. It's picturesque, beautiful in its finality as the end begins. We can hear the thunder as the ships pass over and around us. Creating a microclimate over London, disturbing the air, it starts to rain again. Heavily.

The Bard plays the most fitting song he can:

I want to tell you it was [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAGnKpE4NCI Metallica - Nothing Else Matters] as doom falls toward our world, as we prepare, each in our own way, to great our ends. Cruella's talking to Excalibur, the Navvie finishing one bottle of beer after another, Angus wistfully thinking of camels, the Wizard nervously playing with his wedding ring. My hand finds Cruella's and the Bard plays on.

He fucked it up however and it was: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwYN7mTi6HM Van Halen - Jump]

Reports of landings start coming in, the final alien ship is still just a light in the sky, slowly, steadily, growing brighter.

We can see flames in the distance, somewhere out at the horizon the final battle has already begun, men are dying, and all just to keep the Martians at bay. The DM waxes lyrical on this, thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives will be lost tonight and it all rests on our actions, yet somewhere out there are men and women to whom their lives are just as important, cowering in holes, dying in ways too horrible to even imagine, and yet, holding the line.

He gives us a series of vignettes to really hammer it home.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfemABbfSpA Savatage- Commissar]

:>Near Epsom
Hundreds of refugees watch as the ship comes down, ignoring the warnings to stay down, a couple hundred are lasered from belt to forehead as a beam sweeps across the camp. The black smoke rolls over them, and without masks, the rest choke and die. The Landcruiser brigade (1st Super-Heavy Sheffield's Own) roll over the corpses, crushing scenes of horror, a mother cradling a choking baby, falling as she tries to hold her above the smoke, turned to paste under the tracks of ABL1.

:>Sunbury on Thames
Automatons but aside refugees as they press around the royal motorcade, then suddenly, each and every one looks at the sky. Following the trail of fire. Silently marching into the distance, towards the thin red line of infantry and on toward the martians.

The motorcade is sacked by panicked citizens, the few remaining human guards open fire on the crowd.

The king is killed in the crush of bodies as he hides beneath his limousine.

:>Watford
Men of Harlech is sung by ten thousand throats out across the fields of England. The flower of Wales stands proud as the ship comes down.

King Rorke and his men engage Martian fighting machines without even a hope of damaging them. A centaur charge equal to the (fictional engagement of) Polish Lancers charging Panzers. They die in the hundreds. Far from the valleys, sheep, and daffodils of Wales, each and every soul is acquired by the cultists, whom themselves are slaughtered. The sod and earth is rent asunder as Pendragon rises.

We weren't there to witness it, but think Al'Duin or however you spell it from the Elder Scrolls, as in giant dragon battling fighting machines over a field of corpses. Fuck me that's metal.

:>Orpington
Naval bombardment from north of Dartford takes the ship down as she lands. Huge holes rent in its side, it crashes on its side, wiping out refugee and martian alike as it falls, the ship vents fuel and flame across the landscape, creating a firestorm that makes the country around melt, hot enough to glass the area.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8JKMuIbrWk Sabaton - Für Immer (Lyrics English & Deutsch)]

:>Brentwood.
Ghurkhas stand in serried ranks. Landcruisers still showing massive battle damage wait amongst them. Someone has fucked up, the ship is coming down not where they expected, it's coming down atop them. The panic means the force is in disarray when the landing comes. The Landcruisers signal one last time.
:>ENGLAND EXPECTS!
and charge straight for the ship, suicidally ramming their way into the crater, causing as much damage as they can.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2KRpRMSu4g The Who - Baba O'riley]
:>We continue.

The Privy council wish us well, they know we're not expected to survive, they know this is the end, and their best wishes seem hollow. We all share a nip from Angus's hip flask and head out. Antgyros occasionally mutters from the Navvie's back pack.

We have a job to do. Near Waterloo station the diversionary attacks begin to meet resistance, we watch from near the Thames, in Inner Temple Gardens as the sky line lights up, we can hear gun fire, the destroyers move up the river, engaging fighting machines.

Our faces blackened, we head down to the river, crossing it with the aid of a rowing boat in the wake of the ships and landing in Park Henrietta. We try our hardest to be stealthy. There don't seem to be any Martians about, the streets are empty. We sneak and tacticool our way toward the ship.

There's a crater similar to the last one, and as we make our way toward it, rain beats on the cobblestones. We move through smoke, wiping the eye pieces of our gasmasks as soot builds up on them.

As we climb the crater wall, it suddenly stops. It's still raining heavily a meter behind us, but in the crater it isn't at all.

There's something powerful here, it doesn't know we're here yet, but we're going to make sure, one way or another, it wishes we hadn't come.

The Martians are pouring out of the ship, but heading southwards, sneaking onto the hull from the North we are unobserved.

It seems a bit bigger than the last one, but aside from that, much the same. We decide the best thing to do is get in, kill the king (make sure the fucker is dead, we don't know what kind of mental powers/shields/weirdness he has), then plant the Wunderwaffe and bug out.

We try to stay out of sight and generally sneak, it doesn't take us long to find a hatch.

We don't knock, the Navvie simply bashes it in with several hammer blows. We drop down into the darkness below.

The interior of the ship is much like the other Martian ships we have been aboard. Lots of fluid biological looking curves and general alien-ness.

It's darker than we expected. There's also a feeling to the place, something that sets your teeth on edge, imagine running a piece of sandpaper over your teeth, that feeling, but deep in your skull.

The whole place feels alien (of course it does it's an alien spaceship), but I use the term as nothing seems quite right in here, as though a circle has 362 degrees.
:The wizard helpfully adds "This isn't magic, but there's a very powerful psychic emanation here. Be very careful."
:>ANTGYROS DE...
:"Shush!"
:>ANTGYROS WILL NOT BE SILENCED.
:"Shut up!"
The Navvie closes his rucksack and holds Antgyros to his chest.
:(slightly muffled now) >I DEMAND YOUR ATTENTION.
:"What?"
:>THE EMANATIONS ARE THE KING.
:"Really? We'd never have guessed. Thanks Antgyros."
Nothing seems to have heard him (even if he does have no inside voice), so we begin to sneak into the ship.

We move through corridors that are dimly lit, we take a wrong turn and move into a fighting machine assembly area, I nearly lose (another) limb to a robot arm as it sweeps a piece of chassis into place.

We move into what we can only assume is a Martian nursery, tiny martians are hatched from eggs and placed into some sort of gel, the drones seemingly maturing before our eyes. There are large numbers of eggs in some sort of fluid, if you think bee hive you're not far off, the larvae within hatch and are then placed by drones into the gel, and start growing. Fast.

It's literally an assembly line for Martians.

Unhelpfully, some of the mature drones spot us.

However, Angus has a flamethrower.

Of course, we never thought to ask where all these eggs were coming from...

As soon as we start torching things, we hear a rumble, as drone and egg alike start to cook off (they smell a lot like crab by the way) we hear a rumble, something very big starts moving in the fluid.

The queen (or at least that's what we think it is) breaks the surface and flops onto land.

She is enormous, beetle like, and very very very pissed off with us. (Though, from her perspective we did just kick the door in and start torching her babies).

We realize all hope of stealth is gone, her razor sharp tentacles lash out, scything into the decking, she's fast and she's furious. She charges at us, we do our best to light her up,

The Navvie swings at her, taking a tentacle through the shoulder even as he stoves in her carapace. Blood spatters the deck as he's flung aside. Bones break as he hits the wall.

The bard does his best to dodge as he plays [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqFoqtpUFY8 Motörhead - 1916].

The wizard tries to sever the tentacles with a whizzing saw blade, Cruella does the same with Excalibur.

Angus just starts burning everything. Meanwhile I aim for what I can only assume are eyes.

She isn't slowing down.

The Navvie coughs blood and does his best to stand. A severed tentacle falls at my feet among the shell casings. Cruella ducks and dives, rolling and swinging that sword. Angus walks straight at her, torching her, her carapace starting to glow red.

The Wizard sends a harpoon straight through her thorax.

Just about the time he takes a tentacle through the gut.

The queen goes down with a huge thud, her carapace rent asunder. Angus keeps on playing flames across her. Antgyros can be vaguely heard expressing his pleasure.

The wizard falls as well. We rush to him, the convulsions of the Queen's body drive the tentacle through him, he's impaled quite impressively.

He's still alive, and screaming.

The bard is the most medically skilled. He does his best to stop the bleeding. The wizard grits his teeth. Angus pours whiskey down his throat.

Cruella severs the tentacle. It's at least a foot around.

It missed his spine, but it's wrecked his abdomen. He shouldn't be alive.

He coughs, blood running from the corner of his mouth.

The wound is fatal, but he isn't dead yet. He's going into shock.

His eyes close.

The bard simply balls up bandages and places them in the wound, trying to stem the blood loss.

The wizard isn't going to last long. His eyes snap open.
:"Fucking martians. Take me with you. I can still take some with me."
The Navvie carries him, using his hammer as a walking stick.

The wizard's blood soaks into the Navvie's shirt.

He's using his own magic to try to knit himself back together, to last longer, steel replacing flesh.

The DM makes it clear it won't keep him alive much longer.

We push on. We've survived this long, but the DM's words about death being a near certainty come back to us.

The aliens know we're here now, we meet small groups and then larger groups, they don't serve as more than a hindrance, slowing us down.

I see movement on my right as we move down a corridor. I don't ask questions, but put a burst down the corridor.

There's nothing there. I distinctly saw something, but there's no blood, no bodies.

It happens again.

We expect knocking (shave and hair cut) but there's nothing.

The wizard can't sense anything (but then again he's fucked and slipping and out of consciousness).

We move onwards. Starting at shadows, engaging phantoms.

The darkness shifts around us, we have to be getting close to the king if this is happening, we are definitely starting to see things.

Angus looks right at me, his eyes go wide, "MARTIAN!"

He brings his flamethrower up.

Cruella clubs him with the pommel of her sword just before he toasts me.

Angus shakes his head. Rubs at the bleeding mark on his scalp. He reaches for his hip flask and necks the contents. He tosses it aside and does the same with a second one.
:"Sorry."
It's about then that one of the shades proves it isn't just a phantom.

The darkness solidifies and a blade sweeps out. Cruella just dodges it, Angus takes it in the thigh. He grabs the creature, pulling it to himself.

We can't see what he's holding onto, but Cruella decapitates it.
:"Ha! you weren't expecting that were you, you fuck?"
Angus self medicates with more whiskey as the bard knots a tourniquet about his thigh.

We're wise to the shadows now, more attack but we club them down without injury.

We come finally to a very large set of blood red doors. Low lighting pulses. The whole area screams boss fight.

We expect royal guards, something, but looking around, we're alone.

We examine the doors. We look at one another.
:"Well this is it, it's been quite a ride. Let's do what we do best."
We kick in the doors.
:"BY ENGLAND AND ST GEORGE. WE ARE HERE TO FUCK YOU UP."

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0rAnyWUnwE Warriors of the world united]

The chamber is enormous, a cavern that feels like a football stadium. The high vaulted ceiling can barely be seen, the walls are strewn with bizarre and outlandish trophies and art work. At the center of the room, is a very small cushion. On it, sits the King.

The king doesn't seem to be quite what we expected.

From the size of the queen, we were expecting something enormous. We were expecting something truly terrifying.

The thing in the center of the room is about the size of a case of beer. He doesn't seem to be doing much.

His escort however, are pretty impressive. They're each the size of what we assume was the queen. The DM called them Praetorians and I guess that's what they were.

The king looks on as the Praetorians rush us.

I reach into a pouch, figuring "fuck it why not" and toss the relics that John Borrison gave us at one of them.

There's a very very loud bang, a blinding white light, as though a flashbang had gone off in front of my nose.

The first thing we hear as the ringing stops?
:"Ook?"
Babi gives us a wave and then turns to the Praetorians.

We run after him.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reOLeLX0Q9U Vulgaris Magistralis - Heidevolk]

Babi is enormous, but so are the Praetorians, he punches straight into the carapace of one as the others swarm him.

We do our best to help as they whip tentacles at him. Rents cut across the great ape's flesh.

His hand falls onto the deck (nearly squashing Angus) he screams. The wizard wakes up.

Putting all of his effort into one last spell, Babi's stump slowly caps itself, a blade growing from it.
:"OOK!"
The first Praetorian falls, then a second.

Babi is missing more bits. He grabs the third, slams it into the deck. It dies with a very impressive squelch.

He bearhugs the last, they wrestle. He's headbutting it as it eats his face, they fall together. Rolling across the deck and through into, then through the side of the hull.

The Martians outside, that aren't crushed, begin to swarm in through the hole.

The wizard coughs, and does his best to seal up the gap. He expires leaving a man sized hole. Through which martians pour.

Angus makes his way to the hole. Flames beating Martians back.

The Navvie drops the lifeless body of the wizard on the deck.

The King stops meditating or whatever he was doing.

There's a reek of ozone as he stands. The chamber seems to grow darker.

We approach the king as Angus merrily burns Martians.

The King looks at us properly for the first time.

He has the air of a man who has been disturbed in the middle of a sandwich. (Ok he's not a man but you get the idea).

The Navvie sizes him up, standing perhaps a dozen feet from one another.

The two creatures, of entirely different lives, planets and minds, sense in one another a similarity, a passion, differing ideals perhaps, but they watch one another closely.

They stare at one another.

The Navvie's eyes start to roll back into his head.

He shakes his head.
:"Oi. Fuck you."
Seeing his attempt at (what we assume was) mind control has failed, the King raises all four of his arms wide, around each limb fire starts to glow, the Navvie runs at him and swings his hammer down.

It rebounds off the King, stopped by his shield. The Navvie keeps swinging even as his feet leave the ground.

The rest of us are not idle. Cruella raises Excalibur high and swings for the little bastard. I open fire, and the bard does the usual bard stuff.

Meanwhile, Angus is laughing as he torches another martian, then the flamethrower runs dry.

The Martians swarm Angus, a dozen clawing through the hull at once, he doesn't even bother trying to change the canister. He sticks his knife into it as they reach him and the thing goes off like a bomb.

His last words?
:"Petunia."
:OOC: "What? Angus who the fuck is Petunia?"
:"It's what I named the camel."

With Angus down, the Martians begin to swarm in, the Bard does his best to hold them off, piping for all he's worth (remember his music can actually pop heads somehow)

But they're still getting through.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qut6yOcibYY A Scottish Soldier]

He plays on. Standing resolute as they rush him.

Meanwhile the Navvie is floating in mid air.

Cruella whacks the King with the sword, it pierces his shield. The King drops the Navvie (and Antgyros bounces from his rucksack).

Cruella is now the sole focus of the King's attention, he throws fire balls around the place as we do our best to attack him. Meanwhile Cruella's eyes go blank, as he slowly, surely, devours her mind.

Blood pours from her nose as she falls to her knees.

The Navvie picks up Excalibur and drives it through the King's chest.

Fire shoots down the sword, burning up the Navvie's arm. He screams as he burns.
:>ANTGYROS DEMANDS ATTENTION
:>CRACK MY SHELL MIDGET.
:>USE ME.
I turn the shotgun on Antgyros, shots eating away at the lead. The King is distracted by slowly roasting the Navvie, who is reaching for the wunderwaffe.

I stick my hand into Antgyros's shell, the red goo within sweeps up my arm, eating into my flesh as I become something more and less than human.

His presence joins me in my mind as I sweep new limbs forward toward the king.

I become amorphous, Antgyros wrestle me for control, but I hold him off. He becomes subservient to me. The King is horrified as I begin to absorb him.

I see the Navvie tear the timer away from the weapon even as the flesh melts from his fingers.

:"FOR THE PENGUIN!"
There's a second or two before it detonates, enough time for me to sweep Cruella's unconscious body into my own, protecting her from the nuclear fireball that consumes all.

There's not much more to tell now.

When the Landcruisers pushed through into the crater, caring not for the fallout, they found what I had become bound tightly around Cruella.

She's not herself now, there's nothing left of her, her mind is like that of a child, but she has learnt to trust me, she is the only one who cares for me, I remain bound, contained with her, deep below London, where the Privy Council imprisoned both of us to keep the world safe from the mix of man and monster I had become. They cannot trust that I will forever hold Antgyros in check, nor can they destroy me.

We have our comforts, I have my books, she has her dogs, and above the fire, on the mantlepiece, sits a small, stuffed toy.

And that anons, was Britbongsteros.

===Epilogue===

:>John Borrison
Was knighted shortly afterwards by the Privy Council. Ran an extremely successful business (Sir Honest John's Imports and Exports) which created stronger links with the continent through trade in entirely legal goods.

:>The Privy Council
With the death of King Algie and no clear line of succession, the Privy Council seized power, Blackadder is king in all but name after Richard III suffered a fatal accident during a haircut.

:>Babi
Dead as far as we know. No corpse was found in the crater, but then again a nuke had gone off near him.

:>The German expeditionary force
What survived the conflict was politely escorted back to Germany where they were hailed as heroes. While it is hard to be certain, some fighting machines were found near Ipswich with parts missing, indicating the Germans may have succeeded in their goal of claiming martian technology.

:>The Wizard's Wife
Consumed by grief, she gave up her position within the clan and now runs an orphanage for those orphaned by the invasion.

:>Angus's Family
McAngus Sons & Assorted Animals is a thriving business and stud farm. The greengrocers shop has now opened several other outlets. The smiling face of a weird green bastard can be seen on the high street of many towns.

:>Pendragon
Fate unknown. Certainly no one has seen him, a series of enormous footprints were discovered leading into the sea.

:>King Rorke
The welsh army were very nearly wiped out. King Rorke's body was never found. Tales of a large bullman roaming the country side and robbing from the rich to give to himself were never substantiated.

:>Excalibur
Discovered, totally unharmed, embedded in a wall just outside Inner Temple church. What happened to it after that is entirely another story.

:>Orrance
The Arabs maintain home rule, they trade oil very happily, and the old Gods are starting to get back into the groove of things. The European powers are eying the country and its resources. It is now a question of whether Arabia can develop fast enough before some decides to take the place by force. Orrance is heavily involved in the program of modernization, as sanitation, education, and infrastructure come to the lands of the Caliphate. Anubis has taken to wearing a top hat.

:>The Landcruisers
In peace time, the Landcruisers each adopt a village or town as a fiefdom, they are instrumental in rebuilding the nation. Attempts by the Privy Council to use them as paramilitary force/death squad fail. The Landcruisers remain free and fiercely independent, and loyal to the nation and the nation only.

They have become a powerful political force for this reason. The one thing they cannot do, yet, is build more of themselves.

:>Aberdeen
The process of refining magic oil is a success and Aberdeen becomes the energy capital of Europe. Rumours that a squadron of Landrcuisers have taken up residence in Peterculter (a tiny village just outside the place) and begun research into their creation have proven to be just that. Rumours.

:>The Patrick Murderborg Moore Scholarship Foundation
Takes underprivileged inner city kids and turns them into cyborgs. The Privy council got their death squads in the end.

:>The Rest of the World
The great Russian Bears wake, and Germany begins to look eastward for lebensraum. Tensions brew in the east. The war weary west of Europe is beseeched by an American ambassador (some guy called Benny Franklin) for assistance with a hitherto unknown enemy.

:>Mars
Looks upon the earth and our teeming billions with envy. Biding their time. Mars will rise again.

In the world of Britbongsteros, on the 23rd of June, a purple badge is worn by citizens of the country. To commemorate those lost in the what came to be known as the Martian Wars.

:London. 2015. September. A wet Friday afternoon just as the clocks strike pint o'clock.
Deep beneath the earth, in the darkness of the world, behind steel and stone, the final portal is swung aside.
Shaking hands lift a box in an archive which has not been opened in decades. Ancient weapons and mouldered leather within. Blowing dust brought down from the ceiling by another bomb blast, cracked lips moisten by a tongue stained with blood. Wizened hands reach within the box. Into the half light rises a tiny purple toy. It's button eyes catch the light in a stare that would melt steel beams.

:"Your time has come again little one... Your country needs you."

==Post-game Stories==
Sessions that took place after the wrap up.

===A Seasonal Tale===
Well we got the gang back together over Christmas/New Year with a bit of Skype meaning there's now another story. Would /tg/ still care to hear it?

:>I thought you were all (mostly) dead?
We are. With a healthy dose of MST3K mantra and by dint of this episode being set between two earlier ones, we can get away with it. Additionally this adventure happened over the festive season and was a sort of group reunion.

:>When are we?
Somewhere after the discovery of Martians at the north pole and before our trip to Egypt (MST3K).

:>Where are we?
We begin in London as the privy council explain over tea served by Baldrick, the gorilla, that the good ship DunRoamin pulled into Peterhead Harbour last Tuesday. This is met with an almost unanimous
:"And?"
Aside from Angus, who is picking his nose and simultaneously rolling a cigarette, and Cruella, who has taken a shine to a carriage clock on the mantelpiece and is considering larceny.
:Blackadder explains "and the DunRoamin was thought lost at sea two years ago. Wreckage was found. Even some bodies. The 'crew' have no knowledge of the last twenty six months, the cargo of Spanish Oranges are still fresh. The last thing any of them remember is the Northern lights around Cruden Bay. We (the Privy Council) have had the crew quarantined. We suggest (meaning order on pain of death) you find out what is going on. Additionally, some of the local sheep have been (Angus perks up) going missing and returning in fractions. Do find out what's going on?"

Blackadder also mentions a number of other missing ships, ones which were assumed lost to alchemists/sea monsters/necromancery. Given that good King Algernon has already (mostly unknowingly) put up and dedicated a number of monuments, it'd be far too confusing for the old duffer to dedicate them. Additionally wherever that ship has been, we want to know.

So we find ourselves on the sleeper train to Peterhead. Having "snuck" (punched out the guard - cheers Navvie) our way into first class (where they wash the chickens you share the carriage with first) we are smoking and enjoying one of Angus's home distilled whiskies. To our surprise it tastes nothing like whiskey but also doesn't make you go blind.

The surroundings, company, and drink being convivial, the party start to relax, finding their feet as their characters again, old arguments are resurrected and players get in character. As the Wizard and Navvie speculate on what the disappearance could mean, Angus and Cruella snipe at each other over whether Brown or tomato sauce is more of an insult to food while interjecting every so often. The consensus is that it's something to do with time travel, the bard dissenting because obviously it's whales. When pressed further all he says is "fuck whales."

The party are finding their feet again reasonably quickly. The train journey passes quickly. The issue is that the DM is also finding his feet again. Cruella it appears has actually acquired the carriage clock and is inordinately pleased with it.

We start properly in Cruden Bay, a small fishing village. We kind of expect everyone to be missing, we expect things to be not as they should be. Instead, and for once, everything seems fine. In fact the village seems more than fine, they're having a party.

The group are quite content to get involved but the Wizard reminds us we are here to do a job. We make our way (nearly losing Angus and the Navvie to a bar) to Cruden Bay's one and only jail, where apparently the crew of the DunRoamin have been quarantined.

The twelve crew seem altogether normal, if a little lost, you would be too if you'd lost a couple years inexplicably. They don't seem as though they've been at sea for two years. No Rime of The Ancient Mariner stuff here. Talking to them brings us almost nothing new in the way of knowledge.

:DM: "The 14 men in the gaol seem perfectly, completely, and utterly normal."
The fete outside seems to pick up a little in noise and cheer.
:>12 crew on the boat.
:>14. men in the gaol.
Fuck.

Problem solving has never been one of our finer points. We have the crew list and cargo manifest. We know damn well that there's only meant to be 12 people on that boat.

The first idea we managed was taking them out one by one and asking them who was on the boat with them, and to describe them. It seems spending what may or may not have been two years on a boat with someone gives you a very poor recollection of what they look like. Each crewman can vaguely describe maybe two or three others. There's enough overlap and amnesia that no one can definitely be pointed to as an impostor. There's definitely not going to be a nice reason for there being two extras.

The party form a small huddle. The crew being returned to the cell. These people (or "people") are amnesiacs and most don't seem to even remember their own names let alone each others. They all came off the boat though...
:Wizard: "Clearly they're all impostors. It's definitely the only sensible thing. Bodies were found remember?"
:Cruella: "Shoot the lot."
:Angus: "How do we know?"
:Bard: "We can't know, we can't leave them here either."
The fuck are we going to do with this lot? We've all seen the thing. We also aren't tempted to pick one at random and start slicing.

Someone has the not too bad idea, that if we're in this situation, and maybe, just maybe, there's some extras in there, we could try asking them things from before the voyage. The Wizard is from near this area.

He starts asking each of the crew about the football team, "Aberdeen United." Most have never heard of it. Some have, enthusiastically so. Aberdeen United don't exist. Of course, while football (soccer to my burger-bros) is a big thing in Scotland, not having heard of Aberdeen FC isn't quite a death sentence, as much as some people I know might disagree.

The questioning continues. We ask each individually about other things, things like how the winter was three years ago (most agree that it was pretty bad - it was), and whether Tunnocks Tea Cakes should be fried or baked (most think either is insane). We are slowly starting to get a feel that three identifiable folk are a bit weird.

That's one too many. Possibly one is just a berk. On the other hand, well, we have no idea what to expect and fuck it, double blind trials and that sort of thing aren't our strong point.

The Bard has been fairly quiet through all this. He's started to notice that most of them move pretty damn slowly. As though drugged or nearly blackout drunk. With the sort of exaggerated care of a man trying to unlock the front door at four in the morning with seventeen pints sloshing about in him and trying not to wake his wife.

We've narrowed things down (we think) to three. We take those three to a separate room. Outside the carnival or fete is reaching fever pitch.

We tie each of the three to a chair. For ease of reference, I'll number them, 1-3. The Wizard has had an idea.
:"I'm going to tell you a joke: Two lads in a pub, one says to the other 'Your round Jock' the other says 'So are you, ya wee fat bastard.'"

1 clearly doesn't get it. Two laughs uproariously. Three looks amused.

The wizard shoots number 2.
:"Even I know I'm not funny."
It's about this point that several things happen at once.

Truth be told we were kind of expecting someone to explode into a mass of mouths and tentacles. We definitely were not planning on #2 being instead of a corpse on a chair, just an empty chair with rope tied round it. As though we had tightly bound rope to the back of the chair without anyone actually being there. The bullet can clearly be seen having dug a hole in the wood of it. #3 is similarly gone as though he hadn't been there. As we are coming to grips with this. The fete outside seems to involve an awful lot of screaming.

1 appears terrified.
:"Why did you people tie me up then shoot an empty chair?"
We will come to terms with whatever that means shortly. Angus has been looking out the small, barred window. Several townsfolk have just been snatched, dismembered, and dragged off by something large, tentacley, and coming from the sea. The rest of the partying folks seem oblivious.

We can still hear music and dancing. Now we really think about it, the last local festive day was two days ago. The townsfolk definitely look as though they've been dancing since then...

We breezed into the gaol/police station thinking the lack of staff was just festive, the keys and jail had been easy enough to find. The snoring, passed out and very drunk sergeant at the front desk was (we thought) reason enough for the lack of efficiency. There is something very wrong here.

The empty chair however presents a very different issue. We all definitely counted 14 crew. We all definitely took three in here. We felt, saw and smelt each of the three we tied up. The wizard can't sense any magic in particular. What the hell is going on.

Angus who is still at the window reports that several pterodactyls just flew past. For the avoidance of doubt that is not normal.

It seems the townsfolk might be hallucinating or under some sort of ergot poisoning. We might have got a touch of it too even on our short walk through town. We can't just bug out though. There's too much weirdness for us to leave this alone. We decide to return our surviving and definitely tangible crewman to the cells. To his thirteen friends. Oh fuck.

We note that it's kind of hard to tell 14 men in uniform with beards apart from each other. Clearly one's the captain and the other is the first mate, but the rest are a bit tricky.

Cruella is greatly in favour of burning the lot.

We are a bit tempted to now. It's about here that the wizard sees that one of the crew has a hole in his jacket. Just above the sternum. He has one on his back too. Perfect for the entry and exit of a bullet from a revolver.

This time I shoot him.

He hits the floor about the same time as his friends bare their teeth and give a horrible ululating cry. Skin flakes or sloughs away to scale or chitin. Muscle flows and warps. The whole group like figures made of wax left too close to a flame. They start to flow and slither into each other. Ropes of sinew and intestine slapping and crawling round the bars. Angus still has his flamethrower and by God is it handy here. The rest of the party open fire as well.

Our original interrogatee is all that's left shortly afterwards. Lying on the floor with his hands over his head, trembling and (when our ears stop ringing) begging not to be shot.

He is lying against the bars, fairly near to us and actually, if he had hit the deck and lain there, could logically have survived.

All of his mates have just exploded however. The wizard decides (supported by the rest of us - even the penguin) to stick a harpoon through him.

He does what you might expect a perfectly ordinary human to do. Scream a bit and expire.
:a perfectly
:normal
:human
Fuck.

Did we just?

Yup. We just executed a terrified civilian like big damn heroes.

We've killed plenty innocent bystanders before but this actually feels worse than usual. Even the Purple Penguin briefly ceases his reverie on the intricacies of axiomatic metaphysics and tits to look disapprovingly on us. As does the DM. We think we just slaughtered our exposition device.

So to recap, we don't know what's going on, there's weird Thing type person impersonators, dinosaurs, and the population of Cruden bay are under some form of mass hysteria while being massacred. Also it's Tuesday. We know just what must be done.

Angus, as our resident good samaritan, does what he feels is appropriate and makes sure our interrogatee is actually dead. He also takes to opportunity to rifle through his pockets. The man coughs up a lot of blood? It seems a lot darker than it should be, the consistency of treacle, and hacks one word out before finally and definitely dying.
:"Merde."
We will process that later. There's stuff to do.

We make our way out of the gaol - and past the still comatose desk sergeant (who is going to wake up to the worst hangover imaginable). The village is alight, at least one lantern has been knocked over and smoke and sparks colour the scene.

Outside the fete has become a nightmarish scene of violence. The exhausted villagers are being grabbed by long white sticky tentacles which can be traced seaward, toward the end of the village square. If anon imagines the villagers dancing in a square then the ones at the western corner are slowly and methodically being stripped of flesh piece-by-piece by the tentacles. They are still very much alive and seemingly unable to take flight, but they get to watch the person up the line from them being skinned. The only ones saved from this fate are women who are dragged off "whole."

Emerging into the square and making for those tentacles, they seem to emanate from a couple of vehicles. Like a [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bathysphere bathysphere] on tracks. With thick diving bell type windows too bright to see within, the tentacles ooze from hatches and ports while the bits of flayed villager are conveyed within.

A pterodactyl circles overhead, but doesn't seem to take part in this.

How the fuck do you fight a bathysphere and/or bathyscape?

More to the point, as we make our way to the villagers we argue, it seems that trying to carry them off one by one isn't likely to work. We are going to have to wreck those things.

As we get closer it becomes apparent the cobbles are thick with some sort of transparent and very unpleasant mucus. It reeks of rotten fish. The wizard is our best tin-opener and while Angus tries to create a wall of flame between villagers and Bathys, the rest of us follow him. The Wizard starts to work on a bolt, then another, they slowly (achingly so) start to loosen, he has to concentrate very hard indeed on this task. This leaves Cruella, the Navvie and myself with the tentacles. Up close they can be seen to be covered in horrific looking barbs or bladed suckers. You do not want one of those touching you.

As a bolt becomes loose enough it seems the internal pressure of the Bathy fires it like a musket ball (unfortunately into the forehead of another villager - collateral damage though) with this revelation, the bathys very much turn their attention on the Wizard. We do our best to intervene with shot, blade and hammer, but it's going to take time for the wizard to pop those things open.

The combat becomes a blur of slashing, shooting and bashing. The fact they are trying to concentrate on the wizard makes the tentacles easier to combat, but they are also happy enough to take a chunk out of us - as the bard who has been generally fucking about in the background learns. He was about to try and play something inspiring, but instead a tentacle has seized his bagpipes. The two wrestle and the struggle between man and pseudopod is evenly matched.

Meanwhile bits of villager can be seen being dragged into the bathys.

The Wizard is having some success, with three bolts loose now, a panel zings off the lead Bathy. The pressure within causes an ejection of a thick white fluid (shut up whoever is sniggering at the back) and some sort of machinery is revealed within. Angus is able to turn the flamethrower on the tentacles we are fighting, momentarily giving me enough time to get a half dozen slugs into that panel. Smoke and fluid belches and farts from Bathy 1.

We might be winning, we might not but we are doing our best. The bard at least has won his struggle - his pipes are, for the time being at least, out of action.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoHxG4-Rh4U Zart - The Tentacles of Doom] have some mood music anyway.

The Navvie is usually reasonably well prepared with a couple of blasting charges or some dynamite and decides now is the time for some fireworks. Headbutting the last tentacle near him (losing a decent chunk of his forehead in the process), he primes a charge and hurls it like a shot-put at Bathy 2. He doesn't quite get the charge under the tracks, but it does knock the thing over. It can still slither tentacles about the place, but it's definitely immobile.

There are a couple more pterodactyls above us now, and from somewhere nearby thunderous footsteps can be heard.

We are slowly closing in on Bathy 1.

Bathy 1 does its best, but with Bathy 2 just about out of the fight we close in enough that the Wizard is able to tear off thick cast iron panels now. There's a crack and a highly pressurized fizz from within before the entire internal hull is breached. It goes up like a bomb, showering bits of highly pressurized pseudoplasm and other goo all over us and everything else within forty feet. If we had any doubts about this thing having come from the deep sea, those are very definitely assuaged.

Those footsteps are coming closer. Big thumping ones.

With Bathy 1 destroyed and Bathy 2 down, the villagers are at least no longer being eaten. Deciding we don't have all that much time to investigate Bathy 2, we make for it as quickly as we can. The Wizard sealing shut the ports from which the tentacles are exuded while cautioning us against just tearing it open - explaining that the internal pressure, will, if released, destroy any evidence of what is within the thing.

Looking closer, we can see on one of the hatches some Latin lettering which might read:
:"Avertissement , contenu sous pression , ouverte avec une extrême prudence"
It seems the real enemy have shown themselves at last: The French. However the Spinosaurus (or what might be - it's not entirely biological nor does it quite fit the description - but who knows - paleontology being a very dangerous profession in Britbongsteros), which is watching us, seems to beg to differ.

Ok so dinosaurs are a new one. They're not native to Britbongsteros, though there are rumours that there's plenty of them in Africa. We are not inclined to ask this one particularly about his heritage, especially given that he squares his shoulders and charges right at us without a second thought.

As he gets closer, mechanical or maybe cybernetic augments can be seen on his joints and around the back of his head. An arc of electricity whips from his rib-cage and washes up around his skull.

What the actual fuck is that thing DM?

Spiney races toward us, we move to engage, planning on hamstringing him and going from there. This, for once, actually goes to plan, with some decent rolls Cruella gets his left leg and not eaten, and the Navvie is able to crush his right ankle as he goes down.

It's almost like he's not paying us any attention and has been told to go for Bathy 2 at all costs. He just about makes it too, smashing into the thing on sheer momentum. That highly pressurized hiss that proceeded Bathy 1's explosion can be heard. We make for cover and, a moment or two later, bits of dinosaur and Bathyscape rain down around us. We re-emerge to investigate the wreckage.
:"YOU ABSOLUTE CUNTS."
The short and very angry orc gesticulating and swearing at us identifies himself as Doctor Andrew Ure ([https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Ure you're not going to believe anything about this guy], [http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/non_fictionreviews/3556709/Raising-the-Dead-the-men-who-created-Frankenstein.html some of his more fun experiments]). He seems really annoyed that we just killed his pet.

The orc - or Doctor Ure, explains that that monster was the best chance we had of ending whatever the menace from the sea is, and now we've gone and ruined that. While he doesn't seem especially threatening, Dr. Ure definitely has plenty of other dinosaurs around if those pterodactyls are anything to go by. He is also completely mental. We do our best to ignore the small, insane green midget and examine what's left of Bathy 2 for clues.

Bathy 2 doesn't render up much in the way of info
:The Wizard reporting: "It's a Bathyscape."
:Cruella: "The fuck are you looking at me for?"
:Angus: "I reckon we could rebuild this if we really tried... some sort of... maybe a submarine?"
:Bard: "I think Angus might be onto something."
:Navvie: "Shut up bard. Also more French writing found."
Doctor Ure has become somewhat more insistent to the extent that everyone else was examining the Bathy (and scraping bits of it and Spinosaurus off themselves). I did my best to calm him down enough to work out what he was on about.

The following information is learnt along with a lot of raving:
:>The Bathys are of unknown origin but have been doing things like this up and down the coast.
:> Mad Dr. Ure is also an agent of the crown, at least he was, the letter of authority he shows me is eight years old and entirely out of date.
:>The dinosaurs are what he calls "Galva-saurs" (as in Galvinism - yes, I know Ure predated Galvinism by some decades) and are his own flesh melded designs which he suspects the Bathys (who may or may not be French) to have stolen.

I ask him about what happened with the exploding crew members (above) and he postulates
:"That could be a logical result of my research, but only a mad" he laughs uproariously "man might do that. If the Crown ever found out about that he'd be burnt at the stake."
So the end result of that is we don't really know what to do. The rest of the party has now joined us.
:Bard: "Where are the Bathys coming from?"
:Ure: "The Sea."
"Bard: "Ok but where in the sea?"
:Ure: "How should I know?"
:Wizard: "You knew they were coming here right? You might know where they go next? How'd you know they were coming?"
:Angus: "More to the point where did you get these bloody great lizards?"
:Ure: "Made them."
:Everyone: "You what?"
:Ure: (cackles some more) "Well it's been a bit lonely up here in Cruden Bay, what else was I meant to do? I had all these eggs and other bits and... Galvasaurs!"
(if anyone paying attention is wondering, Cruden Bay has a lot of history and links to Frankenstein...)

It's been growing darker and stormier. Lightning flashes illuminating Slains castle on the near horizon.
:Ure: "Come up to my laboratory... We have much to discuss, as you see I suspect someone has been stealing my research."
After agreeing that we'd follow him up once we've seen what we can do to help the villagers (which we do our best to, those that haven't been dissected mostly fall unconscious - but we can provide water and try to move some away from the now steadily blazing town - a process which takes about an hour or so but isn't terribly exciting to tell), we follow Mad Dr. Ure up to Slain's Castle because we're smart like that. Dr. Ure himself having simply extended his arms, waited a couple minutes in that rather daft position, and then gets scooped up by two Ptero-Galva-Dactyls.

Dr. Ure is very pleased to welcome us, as are the small pack of GalviDeinoychus that scutter about his feet. We have decided (having met plenty of lunatics by now) that we should start very slowly and softly.

He welcomes us into the great hall, the chained and mostly assembled item which he describes as "THE GALVASAURUS" is bigger than the Spinosaurus and indeed Babi if anyone remembers him.

:We ask him: "What are you doing up here?"
Ure: "The Royal charter [n.b. they only last for four years and need renewed when a monarch dies] should tell you all you need. The kingdom needs soldiers, my original research in Oxford was deemed too unseemly for the populace, so I was sent to quieter, more... unseeing areas to complete it. Helpfully, new discoveries from Araby [shit was that us?] have assisted enormously."
:Party: "So you're making the traditional ubersoldats then?"
Ure: "No, these are so much more, imagine a galvasaurus pulling plowshares, or a hundred powering pumps, why we could drain the Irish sea if we wanted to. Think of the engineering potential."
:Party: "Ok that's... that's actually less bonkers than it sounds. You err... you don't happen to be using any crazy blood magic or anything that'd mean we have to kill you?" (we asked this a bit more tactfully, but then the bard just asked it straight out)
:Ure: "No? Just science. Why should I use anything else? With science man can usurp the reigns of power from G-d! G-d has other things to take care of, such as our souls, (I don't know how he managed to pronounce it like that but somehow he did) he has allowed science to assist him!"

As Dr Ure is working himself up into a proper frothing rant, we change topic.
:Party: "So Dr., who might be murdering the townsfolk?"
:Bard: "Yeah! What's the French Connection?"
Ure: "I told you that I don't know, you probably already know they've attacked ships, that they've likely discovered a way to not only utilize my research but to corrupt the human form, to make things which appear to be men but are not, there might be hundreds or even thousands of those sleepers (he means what happened in the gaol) in towns on the east coast already, all seemingly normal until some threat or command and then..." Dr Ure whistles and a ParasaurGalvius cracks open a bottle of Chesnokov brand vodka (there's at least one /k/ommando in the group if anyone was curious) "..it doesn't bear thinking about."
Angus has wandered off but returns at the mention of free drink. He has something to share. He nudges the Navvie and I and gestures at the Galvisaurus surreptitiously. That sure looks like a really big soul-cube if you squint just right. (Remember the necromancers?)

Well then... what do we do with this?

Giving it some thought we decide that, you know what? Fuck that. We'll deal with that later. Night has very definitely fallen outside and we are invited to spend the night in the creepy weird Dracula inspiring castle. On second thought we could spend it in the village... which has burnt to the ground... On third thought, lets stay.

We are given half a dozen rooms and waited on by a couple of small servant lizards (the wizard reckons they might be some velociraptor relative), in any event we decide it's far more sensible - and defensible - to all sleep in two adjoining rooms. We also have a chance to properly study one of these lizards up close.

It seems the things are not quite dead but definitely not alive, motive power is being provided by some small generator in the chest and thought and direction by the modified box on the back of the skull. If we had to guess, it might be a good idea to smash said box if we had any issues with one of these critters. We have no idea how Dr. Ure is controlling the things, however the wizard theorizes it's low level magic tweaking the copper diodes and control in each box on the Doctor's part, and when he isn't controlling them directly, it's instinctive behaviour on the part of the lizard.

We are woken - those of us who were sleeping at least (we've had enough of the DM to know that everyone being asleep at once without explicitly saying X will be on watch first leads to bad things), by a small Galvinychus battering on the door. It seems to very much want us to follow it. We do with some leisure, it seems that a village up the coast is under attack from our local bathys. We could just relax here but something tells us that the Penguin would much prefer us to take the offer of being Ptero-Galvi-dactlyed into the middle of the village. It also sounds fucking awesome.

***

A short while later.

Six adventurers are borne aloft, silhouetted against the harvest moon on our way to Newburgh and wondering what the fuck we have gotten ourselves into this time.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-49noOAFsG8 Saxon - Princess of the Night]

Not all of us exactly have a head for heights nor indeed the way the Ptero-Galvi-Dactlys like to swoop and swerve, the screams of Cruella as her two do a loop-de-loop can probably be heard in Inverness, but we make it.

Newburgh is only a few miles away and at this speed it's five minutes flying time. Below we can see in the flames of the fishing village, more Bathys, and something else, something really unpleasant. Like a creature made of chitin and fishhooks, it's grabbing towns people and eviscerating them or... oh lordy that's not nice. It's cocooning them and forcing something down their throats....

With a cry of "Fukken Xenos!" we land in the middle of the town square. Apparently bonkers Dr. Ure will send reinforcements, but right now we're it. The big sky above us is fire lit, and all around us civilians scream.
:>We Xcom now baby.
:>DM? Is this a terror mission? This feels a lot like a terror mission.
:>That's not a bad idea bard. This is now a terror mission, save those civvies.
We don't exactly take much coaxing to try and do the good thing, but this is going to be bloody hard. They're everywhere and if (as we suspect any villager impregnated - and yes that is probably what happened to the women further up) they're going to make more gribbly things, we think maybe we should burn out those nest things first.

Then we still have the Bathys, and whatever the fuck else there is running around. Well fuck it. Lets do this.

So we pretty much have two choices. Go for the "nest" and hopefully cut off the alien reinforcements, or try and fight through everything and save as many civvies as we can. It seems likely we might save more lives in the end going for the nest, but more will die while we do that. It's a DM dilemma and a big gamble.

We like a good gamble though, and while the combat isn't too exciting to relate, we wade through mucus and those horrific chitinous beasties to the "nest" or what was once a small inn. Now it's a horrific mess of bodies and bio-resin, we're just in time to see the stomach of some poor woman burst in a shower of gore (muh edge!) and several smaller nastier little things scrabble towards us.
:"Well fuck this." Angus bathes the place in flame and the Navvie tosses a charge into the flames.

The (fuck it, we'll just call the Chryssalids) lids swarm us as we do so, the Wizard being knocked to the ground and only saved from a really nasty death by Cruella decapitating the Lid. She in turn is grabbed and dragged a few feet before the Wizard harpoons the Lid standing over her. Eventually (really a few moments later) we are standing on a pile of chitinous bodies when the charge cooks off. Still leaving the rest of the screaming and abused village to save.

Out there in the night there are still people dying, being picked apart by Bathys and god knows what else.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FwNOmS78q-o UFO - Doctor Doctor]

We know exactly what must be done.
:>Ayyyyyyy LMAO
We are heavily outnumbered but we think we just about have the hang of wrecking bathys, the first two aren't all that bad. The third is where we hit our first big snag. Angus and myself are herding civvies aside when several of them do that horrible shifting exploding thing and go full Thing, grabbing and devouring others or trying to eat us.
:>Fuck. Nothing is to be trusted.
As Bathy 3 detonates, (there's still plenty more of them) we have to execute not only the Things but the half eaten (and possibly contaminated? Turned?) civilians with them.

The rest of the bathys are a struggle, but with reinforcements (fucking dinosaurs!) we manage pretty well. There's plenty more French in the wreckage, but as the last of them retreat, the wizard looks awfully smug. He's missing his solid iron broach that keeps his cape/kilt in place and holding it in place with one hand. It's stuck to the back of the last of the bathys. He reckons that as long as it stays within seven or eight miles he should be able to pinpoint where it goes. It's also a dead cert that wherever "there" is, is likely underwater, so we are going to have to do some preparation for dive. Fortunately, there's enough bits of bathy scattered around that, with plenty of ingenuity and around four or five days work, it ought to be possible to fashion a crude diving bell and some extremely crude diving suits. We are going to engage the terror from the deep on its own terms.

The tracker indicates that where we are going is reasonably close to the coast in one of the few areas where the North Sea is lower than 100M (110 yards-ish) but not much more so. It's still pretty bloody deep - especially in home made diving suits.

***

So, going forward in time slightly, we rejoin the party in a purloined fishing vessel ("In the Name of Cod") a few days later. Crude diving suits have been fashioned and, with some help from the lunatic Dr. Ure, we have an air-pumping station set up which is powered by half a dozen Galvelociraptors. The air pumps connecting via tubes to each suit. The suits themselves have a very small reserve of air. The suits have positive buoyancy, so if we remove the belt of lead weights we will shoot back up to the surface.
:Bard: "Guys what about the bends?"
:DM: "That's a very good point Bard, what are you all going to do about the bends?"
:>Arguing

We know the bends doesn't occur at a specific depth and is more a function of how quickly one ascends. If we have a managed ascent (say removing one lead weight every minute or two and coming up over half an hour) we should be totally fine. However, we are trying to use atmospheric diving suits (so we'll stay at about surface pressure anyway), so it may not actually be an issue at all.

The bottom is about ~100M down, which we realize is actually further down than anyone dived in such a suit until at least about 1920, and that these are very much bodged together suits. However, in our favour, we do have the wizard who, if he senses anyone being likely to spring a leak, can repair the suit before the occupant even knows there's a problem. Reasoning that the wizard allows for pretty much factory level precision repair at depth we feel pretty happy. Satisfied we aren't going to just implode, the party sit on the edge of the 'Cod and fall backward into the water.

We are diving well below where natural light penetrates. It's very, very dark down here. We also have no means of communicating with one another - except that the wizard can ding on our helmets to try to direct us if we get lost, and if we want to talk it'll have to be by pressing face-glass together. We have torches and while some of our weaponry will work underwater, the rest we have decided to place in leather bags sealed with tar.

The descent takes us from light, to darkness, to something beyond darkness. Six little spots of light that, as we hit the seabed, send up a huge plume of silt, bringing visibility down to a meter if that. The slightest movement of our feet sends more of the stuff into the water. We sensibly decided to rope ourselves together, but now we are each isolated from one another and yet only a meter or two apart.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUHqtNCK878 Ambient Music: Underwater Madness] MOOD MUSIC

So to recap, we are going to fight god knows what, if we want to run away we'll have to be slowly lifted up to the surface, we can't see a damn thing, the wizard can only vaguely guide us, and we are roped together and pretty much helpless. The wizard is in the middle.

To really hammer home the helplessness for us, the DM decides he wants to really mess with people. Step 1: the party cannot communicate with one another unless the players are physically holding hands. The party are roped together in a manner which is clockwise from the DM and you can't talk to anyone who isn't in that sequence.

The wizard is, for all purposes, driving the party. He stumbles and by the time he has righted himself with the help of the bard behind him, he realizes two rather concerning things: The guide rope has snapped just in front of him - sending Cruella, Angus, and Me off into the darkness unattached (but still guidable) and there's very possibly something big and nasty lurking out there in the gloom. Additionally, if he were counting helmets, there now seem to be seven of them.

The thing is, the players can all listen to this but are totally unable to do a thing about it. The wizard can guide us and try to bring the two halves of the party together, but I (as the one on the rope in front of him) have no idea there's even a problem yet.

There's still something out there in the mud or at least that's what the wizard reckons, and there's also the issue of seventh party member. All the rest of the party can do is watch, remember that.

The wizard tries frantically to guide us all into a circle. Something is interfering with his tapping, people are getting mixed up, airlines are being crossed. The tramping of heavy lead shod boots is causing even more silt to rise, we're entirely obscured now, lights do nothing more than illuminate the filth in front of you, then suddenly something might loom through it, a hand, the back of a helmet, a tentacle.
:>A tentacle
fuck.

Panic is starting to set in. The party can't do anything but beg the wizard to do something, the wizard can barely concentrate as he tries to process so many things at once, to direct six people, to try to assess whatever threat is around us, and to try to ascertain if one of us isn't who we should be.

Imagine that choking sensation of being isolated in your helmet, breath rasping, horrible tasting air being pumped down, and only the rank smell of your own sweat and rubber as you try not to hyperventilate. How quickly in that sweating, horrible little box you'd lose your mind, and most of us have no idea what's going on. Then a tentacle traces across the glass of your helmet and something grabs your hand.

The bard has finally worked out there's something wrong. He grips the wizard tightly and starts pulling in on the rope behind him. The Navvie is heavy but he's not that heavy, rather than allow the rope to go taut and just wait, the bard drags himself and the wizard into the gloom. The Navvie can be made out wrestling with something, something that has lots of tentacles.

Now pretty much everyone who isn't the wizard is down to using a knife, and the wizard has his hands full trying to wrangle the party. In the gloom he has no idea how successful he's being, but it seems like other hands are joining in on assisting the navvie. The sheer amount of silt and nastiness being thrown up makes it impossible to tell.

Eventually the tentacles withdraw with the creature either going to die or lick its wounds. There's still the issue that we can't tell who is who, or where, or what is going on. The wizard manages to get us all to stand in a circle, slowly waiting for the silt to settle and visibility to improve. Our hands are linked and bear in mind again that the rest of us have no idea there might be a seventh party member.

It takes a while for the silt to settle, a good long while. Remember the Wizard is the only one who knows why we've stopped, why we're standing in a circle holding hands. Imagine waiting in the horrible inky darkness, illumination being provided by a torch which doesn't do anything more than show particles of mud an inch in front of your faceplate, unable to hear anything other than your own breathing, heart racing and no idea what might be out there. Eventually it's clear enough to count lights. Seven lights.

You can't see the face of the person in the suit unless you're up and close. As the party realizes there's party + 1, things become very interesting.
:>These suits were jury rigged and likely individually distinct Aldous
Yes, but it's pretty damn silty and dark still.

The Wizard is able to get everyone's attention by materializing a small cannon ball in front of himself. This is more than enough to demonstrate to everybody that he is a wizard. It also rather handily gives us a sort of nominated inquisitor. The wizard is able to go from faceplate to faceplate.
*Aldous,
*Cruella,
*Bard,
*Angus,
*Bard,
*Navvie.
:Bard: "Oh fuck there's two bards!"
:Navvie: "KILL THEM BOTH!"
The Wizard can't think of a way of deciding who is who. They're both carrying an oilskin which looks exactly like the one with the pipes in it. This is actually a bit of a challenge as the DM obviously won't let us talk to each other (in character) and we know pretty well that this thing is going to probably explode with lots of tentacles.

Thinking scientifically, the critters (such as the crew above) replicate humans reasonably well, they can at least fool the senses into thinking clothing and other items are there as well (so for example they might look to be carrying a gun, it might even go bang, but it probably can't shoot bullets if that makes sense), in this case they also fooled the Wizard's senses into thinking there are seven diving helmets.
:>Aren't you roped together?
Same thing.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3MLeHGkYO0 Chris Stapleton - Parachute]

The party have naturally edged away from Bard A and Bard B, the DM (on the understanding that we will always have someone watching the two of them) allows us to talk.

The bard meanwhile is marveling at his own complexion. Majestic chucklefuck that he is when suddenly something occurs to him. The bard reasons as follows:
:>I know I'm me.
:>Therefore if I know I'm me, then the other one obviously isn't me.
:>Therefore, if I stab my double, everything will be fine.
So he does.

This actually goes fairly well for once. Except that Bard B doesn't explode into a mess of tentacles and things, it just bleeds a lot and thrashes a bit with a knife in it's stomach. To an impartial observer, Bard A has just stabbed Bard B with an unknown motive. The bard is smart like that of course.

The party can see what might have been the logic here, but on the other hand, if the tables were reversed, it sure does look like the impostor just stabbed our bard. More to the point anything the Bard now does will make him seem suspicious.
:>Ah Bard...
The wizard does his best to weld something over the wound to Bard B. We don't know which Bard is our bard.

We take the wounded and, with a knife at his back (do knives even work on weird tentacle-y things?), prepare to slightly less cunningly and gloriously make our assault on the underwater enclave of... we are not entirely sure. Up above there is one bonkers Doctor and that's as close to sanity as this one is going to get.

We mount a rise and below us we see our objective for the first time. There are ship wrecks, these are dark and barnacle encrusted, in the center sits what can only be described as a facility. An underwater building? It looks like an oil rig, and it's very well lit. Cargo from the ships is strewn around from steam engines to bricks to pottery. In the distance we can see Bathys making for shore.

Entrance to the facility isn't too hard. There's a suspiciously unguarded airlock. The air hoses prove to be a problem to actually get in, so we have to unscrew the things and pull on them to be hauled up. We still have our reserve tanks, but now we're down here and alone. Also one of our party members is who-knows-fucking-what.

So, time to work out what the flying fuck is going on down here. We've had a taste of quite a lot of DM level weird but things feel like they're only just starting. Something must have a very good reason for stealing ships and eating people. There also must be a damn good reason why there was French script on the Bathys.

The interior of the facility is dank, and there's the sound of a thousand drips reverberates through the darkness. There's also the very, very distinct noise somewhere far off of honking.
:>Honking.
Oh yes. Honking. We have something much more immediate to attend to however. The bard is carefully held at gunpoint, while the other bard is stripped out of his suit. The bizarre maggoty situation with the wound is enough of a clue to tip us off to him not being human. The way he begs us not to as we pour flamethrower fuel over him is really kinda horribly grimdark. Burns good though.

The flames give us the same result as in the gaol. What the hell are these things? We're somewhat inured to terror, also bizarre, horror and all that other stuff, but there's so much oddness going on here it's almost too much to take in.

The party takes a moment to think things through:
*Person replacing weird things.
*Bathys.
*Some French connection.
*Honking.
*Villager stealing (in fractions).
Why is it all happening off the very north east coast of Scotland? Dr. Ure seems to have been fighting as best he can against this stuff (he's also bonkers) for quite some time.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyFniXdqsQQ I do like to be beside the seaside - Mark Sheridan]

:Angus is the first to say it. "Ok. DM. Honking, French, and stealing villagers in bits or not. I know what this is."
:>French-clown-leech-spider things
:Bard: "Wat?"
:Navvie: "Oh god not those things."
:Cruella: "You mean... yuck. They ate me."
:Wizard: "Bugger them."
:DM: "You'll find out..."
So, this adventure took a bit of a peculiar turn about here.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_76Orifags If You Were The Only Girl In The World Sung By Henry Burr]

Anyway, what's it like in the facility? It's warm, unpleasantly so. Hot enough that we're sweating before we are out of our diving suits. Hot enough that it feels like breathing blood. The lighting is red-lit, like a submarine at battle stations. It's built of rusted, damp, dripping steel, covered in pipes and gauges, valves and a billion other things. The whole thing is cast in that red light, making everything crimson or black. It was clearly a significant investment for someone.

Why on earth would the French of all people build this? They're just slutty elves. What the hell is that about? This really isn't their style, nor is it Dr. Ure's - he's just weird, but not this kind of villain lair sort of weird.

By the way if you're wondering about the less normal music, the DM is playing this sort of stuff on his laptop for reason we aren't entirely sure of.

We proceed very slowly. Not being particularly happy about anything down here. Least of all the lack of alarms, bodies, creepy shit or anything else. This place should really have been noticed when it was built, it's huge.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKXi7f7AFmU Soundtrack 24: Das Boot Theme] (the DM starts playing this)

So we're used to exploring abandoned facilities and dungeons, this place isn't. It's got no sign of habitation, as in never lived in. There's not even the debris that builders leave around. It's like it fucking grew here and we're the first people to enter it. Angus in theory is the engineer of the party (with some help from the Wizard), but it's Cruella who raps on one of the pipes experimentally.
:"What are these things for?" She taps a gauge. "I mean what the fuck is this thing? Come on boys. Explain?"
Five dice hit the table and permutations of
:>I roll to explain whatever the fuck that thing is
follow on from the dice, but oddly, none of us can make any heads or tails of it.

It's all connected, almost knitted together as much as interlacing pipework can be, as much as gauges, valves, speaking tubes, and other bumf can be. Some if it's slung across the roof - making the experience of entering the facility seem like walking under low brush, and other pipes and things are set across the walkway, seemingly at ankle height by design because fuck you.

One of the speaking tubes honks. Then a louder honk comes echoing from somewhere up the passage, or maybe under the floor, or outside, or Wales, in this mess we can't fucking tell.

The further in we get, the denser this stuff gets. Stooped, with aching backs in tight confines, half crawling in boiling heat and unpleasant watery damp, the fluid black in the light. We pass under shafts which seemingly extend upward to other floors or god knows where (in theory we could climb up but we're going inward for now). Angus traverses what he thinks is a puddle, putting his hand outward to balance himself in the ankle deep water. Instead he sinks right in. He comes up again almost instantly treading water.

So anything coming at us could come from below, or above, or any direction it feels like.

Cruella has some pretty funkily good hearing, so does Angus, one of them picks up on a noise. So deep it can't really be heard at all, it's more that you're aware of the absence of noise. It's then followed by a more high pitched ping which is right up at the other end of the frequency range. Very shortly afterward, Cruella thinks on both of these frequencies
:"If I can hear those, you know that really does mean I can speak Whale?"
The sound is an event regular enough to sound almost mechanical, like an engine, or a heartbeat.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBN56wL35IQ The Bloop: A Mysterious Sound from the Deep Ocean]

Our slow, painful, soggy pace is becoming even worse now. It's hard to tell where to place your feet and simultaneously watch for low hanging pipe work. Something coils around Angus's leg.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=royW0LZspXs The Rose Of Tralee]

The something comes from the Navvie. Or what we thought was the Navvie. Turns out we didn't get our Navvie back from the octo(thing) when it fucked off. We got something else. Something much worse. With very little ado the party are quite happy to shoot, chainsaw, stab, and uselessly play music at the impostor that was their friend. The amorphous tentacle-y horror slinks into the the mess of pipes and is practically indistinguishable from them in this light, water, and environment.

A (smirking) party member down (the Navvie's PC has something else to occupy him) we try to continue. It's almost impossible to watch every direction, or to even watch each other - any of us could be replaced at any moment...

The Navvie's player seems to relish his task of hunting us. We don't know whether to head into the facility, or out of it, or up, or down, but we've also established we are lost as fuck (no one even thought about a trail of bread crumbs). The Navvie-Thing seems to regenerate as well, it can be seen off by bullets and flame, but it always seems to come back, always from some new angle. Flowing from between the thicket of pipes. Rearing up from a pool of water. Dropping from the ceiling. Always in some new form of amorphous face eating blob. The thing seems to call back to a number of critters we've faced, things from the Isle of Mann, Coliunn, Witches, Cthulhu's Dad. Not mimicking them, but enough that there's similarity. It also just will not die.

Whichever direction we take, the path seems to shift, to twist, and definitely not to make sense. The Wizard can sort of machete his was through the pipes but it takes quite a lot of time. What really doesn't help is that I get separated.

The pipes aren't a solid mass like the bulkheads around us (though pretty bloody close). They are however solid enough to block sight almost entirely after three or four feet. The party can still hear me, they can't see me. The Wizard picks what he thinks is the best direction and starts bending. Meanwhile, alone, in the light of my torch I watch the darkness for movement. Trying to watch every degree of the compass at once with my back to the pipes. The Navvie-thing can worm its way through the pipes as it's pretty much an amorphous blob of bits (think the way an octopus can fit into and then pop out of a jam jar). The gatling shotgun has drum magazines that hold 128 rounds, at best that's sixteen seconds of sustained fire. That might seem like a lot but it takes a while to reload, and if the thing that was the Navvie...

....just happens to be crawling along the ceiling....
:>brrt
....drops from the ceiling....
:>brrt
...starts to gather itself to charge...
:>brrt
...manages to walk into the hail of shot as I walk fire onto it...
:>brrrrrrrrrrrrt
....keeps fucking coming....
:>brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt
...and coming....
:>brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt
....losing tentacles and chunks of flesh and bone....
:>brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt
....but keeps coming.....
:>brclick.
...Fuck.

I'm trying my fumbling best to reload, the spent drum falls between my boots. I realize I'm not going to make it in time (ask /k/ about the 21ft thing sometime) the wizard spangs a glancing blow with an iron bar off the thing slowing it a little. Angus, beautiful bastard that he is has a bright idea.
:"Hit the deck."
I have just enough time (nearly) to hit the deck as the muzzle of his flamethrower is shoved between the pipes and a spear of napalm shoots between my shoulder blades. The Not-Navvie recoils, hisses, and starts to melt... not the good kind of on fire melting, the "I'm going to run along the ground under the jet of flame kind and shoot tentacles at the dwarf whose beard is on fire."
:There now follows a science argument - given that we are at a pressure of above one atmosphere, would flamethrowers work like they do? Also what happens to any bullets that hit the hull?

:>DM: Assume that the hull is bullet proof - though let's add some ricochets in for fun? Flamethrowers? Hmm... reduced range? Oh Aldous you're still on fire.
:>We love you too DM.

:''>RANDOM SCIENCE TIME!''
:''The effect of a high pressure environment on a flamethrower would depend on the atmosphere. Unless you were in a Nitrox or Heilox charged bathysphere thing, and nothing else around you was flammable, the fuel would burn faster and hotter than at sea level. Higher pressure = more O2/m3 = faster fuel consumption. This is why fire on a submerged submarine is a very bad thing. Normally there would be the added hazard of setting paint alight as well, but given how damp it sounds like the area was, you have more of a risk from O2 depletion and toxic gasses than secondary fires in said situation.''

So while I'm beating out flames (My beard!!) Angus continues playing fire over my head. The wizard is able to slowly clear an actual path to me - one which Cruella and then the bard (as the skinniest party members) are able to worm through. The not-Navvie thing decides to retreat as I'm reinforced, schlopring off into a duct with a horribly soggy noise.

In the distance can be heard sounds of distant honking... and swearing. Deciding that swearing can mean one thing and one thing only - also there's no way to replicate that vocabulary (so many variations on "cunt" - fanny, meat curtains, dribbling pleasure slit, wee bit o' touch, badger's pouch, gaping axe wound, money syphon, bearded clunge, furry kebab, baby cannon, cock-warmer, Deoxyribonucleic acid depository, meat saloon, your uncle's pot pie, fuck-trap, sausage pie, raw steak flange, trembling love cave, happy seal, rabid cock hamster, minge.), so we make for the sound.

We remain extremely worried about the Navvie-thing, but aside from the flickering of tentacle thing from a vent or creepy noise, it seems to have decided to go a bit quiet. Sounds of displeasure however remain the same, the environs do not.

There are now windows - windows that look out on green fields or Mediterranean beaches, a world that doesn't seem at all like ours, if you look long enough you can see peculiar things - no violence, seemingly peaceful people staring at little shiny pebbles or sitting in front of bigger ones. The people all seem very sleepy and especially fat. Weirdly, the windows don't cast light into the facility but seem more like moving pictures? I can't describe it like the DM did, but, in the red-light of where we are, we are definitely below the sea level still, but the scenes outside make no sense, nor do they seem any less real for it.

The bard reports that this does not seem at all natural and that we must be in a highly magical area. The wizard reports that he's speaking shite and he can't feel anything.

Twisting down more and more corridors - all still damp and dark, where there are no "windows" covered in those pipes and other peculiarities, and worryingly the odd slither of biological looking goo, we make for the sound. The place has a million different echoes and twists and not even Angus and Cruella are entirely sure we're going the right way. Especially not when that [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBN56wL35IQ long biological] comes back.

We stop by one window. This, if anything, seems to actually be "real"; it's slowly dribbling water and outside we can see Bathys and other... things, they seem to be fighting - fighting what? If we had to guess, mad Dr. Ure upstairs has gotten bored and has decided to quite literally unleash the kraken.

(I mean they're fighting electric dinosaurs, which is fucking awesome) [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2s_cDnS22M John Carpenter - In The Mouth Of Madness]

Shortly thereafter, the swearing - and he still hasn't repeated himself (love canoe, soggy hammock, sausage roll, etc etc etc) leads us to a bulkhead.

From somewhere in the facility a long, low groaning quake rocks the place, as though the whole thing had been kicked. The water trickling from the ceiling takes on a far more urgent timbre.

After a minute or two we get the door open to find the Navvie, or at least... sort of.

The first thing we find is that fucking octopus. Someone has beaten the hell out the poor thing and it shies into a corner when it sees us. Then we find shredded bits of diving suit. Then we find a lot of what seem like human remains. A lot of human remains. The penguin's 6th sense is very definitely pinging.

Inside a bathyscape, with the hatches all dogged shut and a voice coming out over the external speakers, is the Navvie. He catches sight of us. The swearing stops.
:"It's still out there you mad bastards! Hide!"
He looks terrified.

The room is composed of a large moon pool with a number of cranes above it - and lots of empty spaces like you might use to pick up and lower bathys into the water.

There's a wet schlorp as something familiar falls from the ceiling above us, a disgustingly familiar noise. The Navvie-thing splats into a pile of human remains and, as it starts simultaneously chowing down and waving tentacle things at us, our Navvie is frantically undogging hatches. The party however are pretty happy - fighting this thing in an open space - with very little room for it to run? Easy.
:>Easy.
It's never easy. Never. You'd think we'd have all learnt this by now. Wouldn't you?

I mean really. It almost seems like we should expect all those bodies to start moving about on their own a bit, being absorbed as biomass into the Navvie-thing. We should totally expect that they'd sprout tentacles and other unpleasant bits. We're not even surprised to see what looks like Dr. Ure's face and some dinosaur bits in there. We are in formation, locked and loaded. It's time for a good, honest, balls to the wall fight. Let's trash these fucking things.

As the bard announces
:"I am going to play something inspiring" [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_PNff2c-nk Warrior (1999 Remastered Version)]
The waters of the moon pool ripple. As though someone had thrown a pebble into them.
:>Dats no moon.jpg

The waters vomit out a pretty sizeable Clown-Leech (see the time we visited France). The thing's not even slightly wet. It never occurred to us the waters were another mirror like we'd seen earlier, something with a view to someplace else. (I'm not articulating this well but issa portal). We also note that there are distinct signs of galvanisation to this thing

Anyway, the party broke to get more beer at this point.

:It's handy to recap our speculation on what's going on. There's been notably little exposition and we've been slowly puzzling this out for ourselves. In order to insulate against my deficient story-telling here we go:

:There's Dr. Ure on-shore (we think). There's whatever resides in this facility. They don't like each other. We also don't approve at all of the use of Clown-Leeches. On general principles, whatever has been nicking villagers needs to die. Dr. Ure, as a mostly respectable agent of the crown, seems to be up to things he shouldn't, but he's also been trying to protect the area. Whatever the portal things are about, well fuck that. It seems this facility is French (and entirely covert - meaning there's something on the seabed they wanted and didn't want to tell us about) and something, we think, must've come through from the other side.
:>Is Dr Ure Evil? Well maybe? What the fuck he's doing galvanising clown-leeches though...

:We continue. Mucking about complete.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjCFyw67TPs Nazareth - Go Down Fighting]

By god, Queene and bacon butties, we are not fucking having this. We've reached maximum weird saturation. Portals, clown leeches, the fucking Thing, and fuck knows what else. The penguin has entirely had enough.

The clown-leech is at least as big as one we fucked up in Paris, and the Navvie-thing is getting bigger by the second. We are not having this.

The Navvie pops out of the Bathy (I like how that rhymes) just as the Leech goes past and gets on the things back. Cruella has, once again, ended up in front of the thing. While the Navvie beats it about the head, it opens its great big maw and sights in on her.
:"Not this time."
We're not entirely sure how she manages this, but she sort of zigs and zags across the thing's exposed throat and underbelly. It does the Kill Bill splitting thing, and, much to her total disgust, splats green goo over her from head to foot. Again.

Meanwhile the Navvie-thing, having absorbed a whole lot of corpses, is ranting and warbling to itself in English and French, for the bi-lingual among the party (Cruella and me) (Angus does claim to speak sheep) it can be heard saying something about the portal, something about the other side, and something about going beyond the world of man. Something inarticulate about a horror that even the Elder Gods speak of in whispers.

While we're in the process of blowing bits off it and generally slaughtering it, a new word can be heard, one which becomes more and more pronounced, clearer and clear until it's a chant, a chant from a hundred, maybe a thousand absorbed souls.
:>Pendragon.
:>Motherfucker.

:>But Aldous, how does all this fit into the big plot and...
:Think of it like an expansion pack.
While the fight with the roiling mass of the Navvie-thing is bloody, it isn't all that exciting.

What is, is that with further exploration of the facility once the Navvie-thing is (we hope) dead, we manage to piece together a bit of a story here. I have no idea where the original short notes have gone. I did have them in an email someplace but the three main ones can be paraphrased as follows:

:"In the 14th Year of The Croissant (France has a different calendar in Britbongsteros because fuck being normal) Monsier De Talleyrand De Baguette reported on a formation known as le Triangle des Bermudes. Further research by Monsieur de Mouton indicates that with appropriate study we might be able to summon and control a creature of great import to our neighbours across the channel. We have identified a site in the la mer du nord which has all of the auspicious ley lines drawing together in one spot. It will be difficult to construct the facility in secret, but at great expense Monsieur de Mouton and M'me Curie-CharB1 anticipate that the project can be completed in less than half a decade.
:"In the 12th year of the Bonbon, Tuesday. On this day Monsieur De Mouton is not present in the facility, he presents his work on a new system of controlling and binding the occult within our world. He theorizes that by reinterpreting how man sees the world, man can himself, much as his eyes emit light into the world, rebrand the world in the image such as he sees fit. ([https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emission_theory_(vision) PEOPLE BELIEVED THIS]) Therefore if man sees the world in a different fashion, a new, structured fashion, then he creates the epistemological framework of his world. One man cannot bend the entire physical world to his will, but what he can do is recalibrate it. Instead of seeing things in terms of "inches" and "feet" outdated measures based upon the crude physicality of the body, by creating a new measure, a new METRIC, then this system allows for the imposition of science upon the world. If MM Mouton is successful, it will, he feels, give him the power to remake the world around him, by redefining it, he can remake it."
:(God I hope this makes sense, my philosophy is piss poor after about 1640)
:"In the 57th year of the Voulevont, 2nd Friday after the 124th degree of the Cochon. Success! MM Mouton and M'me Curie-CharB1 have successfully breached the measures binding the world, the subtle genius of France has done what the Rosbif never could. We have created a portal to the other side. Without blood sacrifice like the Irish, without the crudity of the barbarians who do not use our new glorious metric. Vive Le France! However time, it is noted, is flowing differently, for us five years have passed, for France, but a week. MM and M'me theorize that the portal we found - identical to our own creation on the other side, is a matter of simultaneous construction - what we build here simultaneously is constructed there. They are building another edifice on the other side. It is theorized that there might also be some sort of mirroring of mind on the other side."
:"Date unknown, it is harder to keep this journal now as I grow older, I do not know how much time has passed since my last entry, but I do know that I might be the last man alive, we have lived with the strangeness of the portal now for at least three decades and no one is untouched. MM Mouton has managed to hold the portal and through it, our minds as well, but our bodies have grown so ancient, but also so changed, now we flow and twist like the structure of the facility, we are no longer human, simultaneously greater and worse than human, like the first days of the great republic. I do not know what we are now or what we will become if MM Mouton fails. There is a word on the lips of all now: Pendragon."
:"Do you know what it is to look upon the face of god day and night and know that he studies you as intently as you did his realm? The abyss has looked back, and the abyss came back with us. We know that on the surface the effects of our research have been felt, ships lost and perhaps twisted by the void. We know also that Dr. Ure has been oh-so-curious and we think might suspect..."
:"In any event, biological material grows scarce, 'piscine material will not do' states the beating voice that roars in my ears, it must be human, perhaps we must be fishers from the sea..."

:TL;DR - IT WAS METRIC ALL ALONG

The party have a little chat about new developments - having found the documents and some other ephemera as described above, we now actually have a fair idea what's going on. It seems whatever is coming through the portal (whichever portal that is) is really a rather bad thing, so our first objective is nuke the fuck out of that portal, and preferably everything else down here. We also are extremely concerned by the clown-leeches having something to do with Dr. Ure, it seems the cult that has something to do with them may have infiltrated the French facility, then he got his hands on some. How he got a handle on the portal technology is something we don't know. It looks however like we may have to have a chat with him after this is over. Given that the facility seems pretty empty at the moment we are in an ideal position to search, but those Bathys which we saw leaving earlier are likely to be coming back sooner than later.

Our plan is as follows:
:1. Find the big portal, the one that leads to god knows where, and shut it from the other side - by leaving a large pile of explosives and legging it back to our world.
:2. Find the generator (a place like this must have a really big one) and blow that up - then make for the surface and fuck up Dr. Ure's shit.

What we don't know is what the other portals might do when we blow this place to bits, some of them (the TV type things) might just be a one way connection, others (like the big moon pool) might be doing something else. Also we really don't like the sound of M'me CharB1 for some weird reason.

Its around this point that Angus decides that he's going to have a bright idea. This takes a while, he has to get a bit of a run up, but once he hits his stride and is powering toward the cognitive leap that will cause neurons to fire and...

Meanwhile the bard sticks his head into the moon pool to see what happens. Very little actually. Apparently there's a view of Slains castle. That actually doesn't surprise us much. Nor do the Galvasaurs he can see roaming around. We are pretty happy this portal, by accident or design, leads ashore.

Other smaller portals are investigated leading to revelations about a planet made entirely of rabbits - we are fairly sure either Cruella or Angus attempted to adopt one as one was seen later, another world where a community of tiny colourful horses appeared to be in the process of being hunted down and butchered by a unit of automatons, all with a large double headed eagle on their chests; other highlights included a zombie world where a suspiciously familiar group of people were drinking around a table and throwing dice at each other, Cruella deciding that whoever the girl is, she clearly needs more attractive friends, another portal lead to a world which was almost entirely dark save for a creepy child singing - so we legged it, and penultimately a world where there was a cube made of weapons and someone yelled "Get out of here Stalker" so we didn't stick around.

Meanwhile Angus is still baking his bright idea, he has decided he won't turn it halfway and will totally ignore the instructions re: letting it stand, so he will burn his tongue instead.
:>What if we didn't have to blow up all of the portals? I mean how cool is this research, think what we could do with it...
We are mulling this over when shortly afterward we find the world of the clown-leech, which is as hellish as you might imagine, a bright sunny place where clown leeches of various sizes frolic through leafy trees and meadows eviscerating things whole as they go. We also remind him that the actual Thing fell out of one of these, if anyone should be building these things it should be... err... well not us... or the Privy Council... Definitely not the French... also they're leyline dependent so... fuck it, poets take off and nuke the site from orbit.

So, it appears that the world of Britbongsteros also has multiple dimensions, but we actually already knew this (Ireland for one), what we didn't know was that the Clown-Leeches came from one. We theorize that the ones encountered in Paris were summoned at some point by the cult. In any event, fuck those things.

Eventually we discover the portal we are looking for, or at least we assume so. It's big enough that you could drive a tank into it, it also looks rather like a Stargate so fuck it, we SG-1 now. The other portals we've discovered have been much smaller - aside from the moon pool and that has something to do with Dr. Ure, that weird bastard. We all secretly suspect Duncan might also be secretly involved but we aren't entirely sure how.
:>Who's Duncan? A big fish.
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiR71VvCYks Def Leppard - Bringin' on the Heartbreak (HQ)]

In we go. To the land of the gods.

It's a shithole.

The place is a desolate, sandy wasteland. The wind howls in the semi-darkness. Shapes of what might be huts or human construction surround the portal.

We look up at the night sky.

Good lord. That's not a sight for pre-watershed times.

There are a whole lot of Gods, but it turns out one of them looks like Chris Evans. The rest is a scene from Hieronymus Bosch. Things cavort with one another in the inky void. We surmise we might even be on the body of another God. We are Lilliputians in this land and have no idea what the rules are, we are hopefully too small to be noticed. The living tapestry of the sky dances on to the tune of an orchestra we can't comprehend. An enormous fish looking thing swims into the side of Chris Evan's head and explodes out the other side in a shower of custard while he cackles.

The Navvie takes in the true cosmic insanity of this world and rubs his stubbled chin.
:"Bugger this lads."
We couldn't agree more. Well most of us, the Bard however is intently searching the sky for Babi.
:>Who's...
:>An old friend.
He's the first one to spot something. Duncan on a cosmic scale is quietly floating past in space, he's munching on a planetoid.

Elsewhere a bowl of petunias and a whale fight, written on the side of the bowl are the words "oh no not again."

We decide that enough is enough and start laying charges around the gate, the wizard and Cruella making holes (with summoned chisel and dagger respectively) which we stuff with TNT and anything else the Navvie has in what he called his "Party Bag" which, on a random and pointless aside looked like [http://www.sofmilitary.co.uk/products/1937-Small-pack-and-strap-.jpg this] - he was weirdly specific about this to the extent of having mentioned in autistic detail back in character creation. No I don't know why either.

This all takes time, we want to make sure this thing is utterly and completely fucked. We also are a little curious, it's not like the DM to have us go somewhere this interesting and not have something try to kill us. We try not to broadcast this to him however. Unfortunately he was onto something already.

:(in atrocious french accent - I mean 'Allo 'Allo bad) "Oooo hare yeuu?" (Who are you?)
We look around for the source of the voice. There's nothing to be seen. That doesn't fill us with confidence.
:"Wuit hair yuuuu doeng?" (What are you doing?)
The voice seems to be coming from all around us.

The CharB1 is not all that intimidating as tanks go, it's a bit funny looking really when you think about it. Mostly it looks like something from metal slug, or an angry potato. The thing seems to be blind, her ocular units are heavily damaged. She can certainly hear us though. She doesn't seem to be too threatening, despite the tentacles which seem to be a sign of having spent too much time near one of these portals (as with all the other French people). These tentacles lash from in and around what would be hatches.
:>What is she?
We don't know. She might have been human once, but if that's Curie-CharB1 then we know, following a whole lot of standing next to science experiments, the woman was horribly mutilated. It seems she must've built, or had built for her, this device - which coincidentally is a tank.
:(still in terrible french accent - why she's speaking English we don't know- surely she'd be speaking French)
:"Please
:Help me
:I know I can't go back
:I came here to watch the dance of the spheres, the beauty of the realm of the gods, but I am blind. Can you imagine what it is to sit beneath the greatest sights the universe will ever know, and be nearly blind? I can hear the music but I cannot watch.
:Can you fix me? Or if you can't, kill me."
We know time is doing weird things around these portals, she might've been here for days or centuries. Alone and nearly blind. We take sympathy on her. Angus and the Wizard take a look at those ocular units. The bard and Cruella try to explain what looks like the painting "The Garden of Earthly Delights" to her - much harder than you'd think.

The Navvie and I decide the only appropriate thing to do in the realm of chaos is to get drunk.

Above us a giant crocodile builds a pyre for a snowman made of vaseline while a dozen weeping ducks and other waterfowl look on.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNLhxKpfCnA Pink Floyd - Is There Anybody Out There?]

The Navvie and Wizard reckon it'll take them maybe 20 minutes. That's 20 minutes of sitting here looking up at all that weird. Things go reasonably well at first, but there are shapes that can be seen out there in the sand. This might be considered bad.

This is confirmed as bad shortly afterwards. A very large, very familiar looking fish seems to have noticed us, or at least he's circling closer towards us, it will take him a while to get here though.
:>Hello Duncan.
Meanwhile whatever those shapes are, there's a whole lot of them. If they come for us, we're going to have an interesting fight on our hands.

If they come for us, we're going to have to kill all of them and then either fix Marie and get eaten by Duncan, or just bail. We're blowing the gate anyway, fuck her. We actually feel pretty bad about that last option though. The Penguin certainly wouldn't be happy.

Well we could just... The DM decides to speed up our deliberations, whatever those many, many things out there are, they're getting closer. We'll need at least ten minutes of further repair, but at least the charges are laid.
:>What the hell are those?
Frogs? Snakes? Whatever they are, they're man sized and sure do have a lot of teeth. There's also fucking hundreds of them.

They decide that if they're going to eat us, they'd better do it sharpish. The swarm as they come closer, they seem to be made of what looks like brass? We can't be sure, whatever the hell they are they're not nice. We open fire/start thumping them.

We're two men down (fixing things) and we are slowly being driven back. Angus lets the Navvie borrow his flamethrower (most excellent for crowd control), it's still not enough though.

We're swarmed. I mean really swarmed. They're getting closer and closer, a mass of slithering chomping biting bodies.
:>Why can't Marie go back through the gate?
She'll die. I should have said this earlier - I didn't, my bad, she's been subject to enough time fuckery and weird that her mind will just melt on returning to the normal world - it also seems like whatever Monsieur Mouton was doing still works on this side, but won't on the other - so even if she lives she'll go killcrazy.

One of the swarm manages to bite down on Cruella's leg. Teeth lodging into the leather of her boot and beyond, blood soaking into the sand. Another couple are gnawing on the Navvie shortly afterward. Angus calls it.
:"Marines, we are leaving."
The wizard however has one last try.
:"Imma gonna just hit with ma hammer and hope for the best."
:>Rolls a 20
:"I can see!"
So we leave Marie and book it for the gate. We run take cover on the other side and are very happy to watch the weirdness explode. This leaves poor Marie on the other side, but at least she's doing what she wanted. We make for make reactor and, in a surprisingly incident-less attempt, we lay charges and decide to off fuck.

So one short bathy ride later we are back at Slains Castle
Well fuck it, we've not beaten up any dinosaurs before.
:>More importantly, why are we angry with Dr Ure?
If Dr. Ure is mixed up in the leeches, in whatever the fuck the French have been up to and more importantly, has lied to us, we are very angry. Something he said comes back to us:
:''"That could be a logical result of my research, but only a mad" he laughs uproariously "man might do that. If the Crown ever found out about that he'd be burnt at the stake."''
So this crazy green midget has been fucking with us all along. More to the point, those Galvasaur things actually could be pretty damned useful to the crown. While this might be a one-shot, we decide if we can, we need to nick some of them or generally some plans for them, why not earn some brownie points?

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T65rW_SIzg0 Blue Oyster Cult Godzilla] That song is a fairly large foreshadow.

:>It's never easy.
Nor in Britbongsteros are things ever simple enough to be black and white. Dr. Ure might have used us to wipe out the French-Things who, admittedly, were kind of eating all the locals - so all in all a net gain on the side of good. As we mull this over, the facility detonates spectacularly in the distance. So at least he knows we're coming.

We also know he had something to do with Clown-leeches but he could have just galvanised one. So that's a maybe. He also has been thinking with portals. Again though, benefit of the doubt, it seems like the one outside Slain's castle he might've just discovered without really understanding.

We decide that in the name of British decency we're going to kick down his front door (well it's a castle so we shoot the hinges with a shotgun, bend the portcullis with a wizard and then hit everything with a great big hammer) give him a chance to explain himself, then fucking murder him.
:"By the purple penguin, we are here to fuck you up."

Well fuck me. Fuck us. Dafuq is that?

The courtyard is lit by the light of a pretty decent sized set of engineering works. That sure looks like they're building a portal. A really big portal. Big enough for god sized things to come through. Big enough that this whole region, nay country, maybe even Europe could become another playground for them, just like we saw. Assuming of course Dr. Ure even knows how to get the right realm on the other end. Who knows what might be summoned.

Our happy little green friend can be seen standing on a battlement directing things. Spookily, all the galvasaurs and leeches put down their tools at exactly the same moment and turn to look at us. Oh so many dead eyes staring.

Welp.

He yells something from the battlements, but is far too quiet to be heard. Some fumbling and with a crudely constructed megaphone made from a few sheafs of blueprints he announces more audibly.
:"You may want to sit down, shocks are much better with the knees bent" Electricity arcs up and around a soulcube looking thing off to one side.
That sounded really familiar...
:"Stop... whatever the fuck you're doing... in the name of the Crown!" Yells the Navvie.
He gestures at the assembled masses of critters.
:"Animals are fine, but their acceptability is limited. A small child is even better, but not nearly as effective as the right kind of adult."
...balls.

I decide to try a different tactic.
:"What are you doing exactly?"
:"Parthenogenesis."
:>Fuuuuuuuuuuck
He continues
:"We have men who came here of his own free will.
:Men who came here representing the power of a Monarch
:One who came here as a virgin"
(Hang on... who's... ... oh god not you Bard)
:"and all who came as fools!"
baaaaaaaalls

I'm aware not all of the anons who read these things are British, so if you're wondering why this stuff is important watch the 1973 film "The Wicker Man".

Just to ruin the dramatic tension, Cruella mutters to herself over her G&T
:"Well he didn't mention me, so you lot are fucked, I'll just be over here waiting quietly while you all get murdered."
:"Of course my new kingdom will need a Queen... One to allow me to bring forth my new breed of humanity, a humanity which shall walk with the gods. How kind of you to bring me a woman with royal blood and such a fine specimen indeed. The breeding shall be sweet."
:Wizard: "Och mate ye've din it noo."
:"You who have all survived so much, what better specimens of genetic stock? What better clay? I shall remake you, do not be sad, for entropy will ensure you all return to the stuff of stars soon enough. Your bodies are but transient vehicles in any event."
:Angus: "Shall we murder him? I say we murder him."
Angus it appears has actually had rather a bright idea. There's an awful lot of things between him and us though, and knowing our luck something horrible is going to happen on the way. Doesn't stop us trying though. Time for some good old fashioned ultra-violence.

In between spurts of blood and other bits, it can be noticed that Dr. Ure is definitely up to something, something involving that big portal... That big portal we are now in the middle of, thumping dinosaurs while he powers it up.

...

Fzzzzzzzzwhaaaaaacha! (now that's an onomatopoeia.)

Reality splits asunder approximately forty five feet in the air (given though that these things work on metric, really that should be 13.176M), to the trained and discerning eye it appears to rain several tons worth of Dulux Green Meadow paint. Still in the tins. One bounces off Angus much to his disgust.

The crackling changes pitch slightly and an enormous pair of mandibles enter reality from nothingness. Dr. Ure raises his arms high and a whole lot of monster follows those mandibles.

'''Fuck, I always miss the threads, the conclusion has not been posted yet'''

===Britbongsteros and the Chamber of Maximum Fuck===
So this story is from not long after I got back from the US. The DM enjoying the idea of linking things up to Real Life (TM) it has a slightly more American flavour.

The party begins the story in Grimsby.
:"DM, why are we in Grimsby?"
:"Why is anyone ever in Grimsby, Cruella?"
:"... that is oddly profound."

We have been sent here as usual by the Privy Council. The recent [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cod_Wars Cod Wars] have resulted in an immense quantity of giant mutant cod generally causing havoc on local shipping fleets; the Icelandic Stupidly Attractive Elves have pulled a fast one and the reparations they were to pay have resulted in large quantities of wrecked boats and something weird going on.

The party sighs audibly.
:Party: "DM, this is what happens every time: we turn up in some small fishing village, shit gets weird, everybody dies, organs and bits are everywhere and then we all go home for tea and medals."
:>The DM looks enormously displeased.
The DM reshuffles his notes. Sighs, drinks, sighs again, drinks some more. I will translate from DM as we go.
:"Clearly that is not why you, as the most excellent of the Countries' problem solvers are here."
:>Ok you fuckwits, you asked for it.
:"The actual adventure that I carefully planned"
:>I am pulling this out of my ass right now.
:"meticulously, and no there's no railroading, but if you had some patience, you'd all actually get the hook in a second."
:>Will you stop ruining my carefully laid out plot, I'm about thirty seconds from rocks fall and everybody dies.

The mutant cod have, it seems, after a sterling action by the SBS (Special Bastard Squadron), been defeated already (oh thank god), however it seems that their roe (fish eggs) have some very odd properties. The above (and below) are explained to us by the spectacularly moustachioed [http://danmacgregor.wikia.com/wiki/File:Colonel_K.jpg Colonel K] of the SBS.
:"Bloody downright weird, in fact, that's why we called you chaps. You're the experts and we were told the most expendable. We lost half a dozen men getting this stuff sealed up." Colonel K gestures at a lead lined box. "We want you to take this stuff to the Research Facility on HMS Habbacuck, it's totally classified, but it's somewhere in the Penines."

This revelation leads, as usual, to an argument.
:Party: "DM! DM! Isn't that a huge boat thing?"
:DM: "Yes?"
:"What's it doing up in a mountain range?"
:"You'll find out."
So with some exchange of papers, signatures and a very interesting handshake between Cruella and Colonel K (she apparently knows about this sort of stuff), we take custody of the boxes of weirdness.
:"So it's a milk run?"
:DM: "Yes, of course it is."
[Those of you who have been following these for a while may be aware of how unwise this is].

We leave Grimsby (thank god) aboard a train up to (via a lot of places) Slaggyford. [THIS IS A REAL PLACE] We have the carriage to ourselves, just us and this weird lead lined box. The party are still savvy enough to watch the thing like hawks. This train carriage is normally used for transporting gold bullion across the UK and we are essentially sealed in a bank vault with this... thing.

The urge to peek in the box is wisely restrained, we are expecting something odd to happen, maybe for the train to crash, for the roe to leak out and start morphing people into weird thing-aliens, or for martian death machines to attack. Something much, much worse happens.
:>What could possibly be worse than...
We stop in what (after opening an armoured letter box to peek out) is definitely Leeds. We hear a sound,a sort of chime noise that is entirely out of place. We act entirely on very well (DM) honed instincts, weapons are made ready, chainsaws appear over the Wizard, the Navvie drinks a beer, Angus lights a cigar with his flamethrower's pilot light, the bard hums a tune, Cruella just sort of lazily opens one eye from where she was sleeping.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZD4ezDbbu4 Bruce Springsteen - Born In The U.S.A.]

Oh fuck no.

No no no, there's no mistaking it.

Americans.

I'm aware a lot of /tg/'s population is actually American, so as a refresher, America in this setting is composed of a huge number of tiny microcosms of strange magic (think each State is something different); the Indian nations are a thing, there are regular crusades from the East Coast into the Indian West, every slice of Americana can be found and chances are it'll shoot you.

We gather round the vision ports, staring out. We've only ever actually met the one American, so this is interesting for us too.

We see a group of what can only be described as Marines. Quite a lot of them in fact.

We know Brit(bongsteros)ain is somewhat skint following events in Ireland and elsewhere, to the extent that we have had to seek funding via sharing research and knowledge with our colonial cousins, but we had not quite expected this.

Serried ranks of Marines stand in front of some very peculiar looking olive drab vehicles. They stand on two legs and whilst they're the dimensions of a man, are about the size of a two cart horses standing atop one another. The weird squat vehicles are festooned with guns (think space marine dreadnought in olive drab with white stars on it).

In front of them all stands one very, very big marine. Somewhere a bald eagle cries as he snaps a salute. He's handsome, square jawed, and entirely gorgeous. Cruella comments "Just what I like." The lads are less than amused.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgRXdozljRs Stan Ridgway - Camouflage~Full Length]

The marines start to board the train, they don't however approach our carriage, but clearly they're going to the same place. The Navvie and I decide to go and talk to them.

The Marines we establish are from the Pennsylvania protectorate, all of them big lads - nearly big enough to challenge the Navvie in arm wrestling. All far too clean cut. They press cigarettes and even stockings on us, saying they're for our lady friends. "We all just wanna be friendly" (as always I can never do the accents), but there seems to be something a bit off about them. The Navvie and I can't quite place it.

The square jawed officer smiles as he spots us, he's covered in medals.
:"Well now howdy. What ya'll got here?" [sorry can't do the accents].
We establish this is one Smedley Butler (google it). He doesn't seem very happy with us, or specifically my (I'm a dwarf) existence.
:"What are you doing in this carriage?"
I expect better of DM than some thinly veiled Dwarves = African Americans fantasy racism.
:"You people"
:["What do you mean you people?"]
:"Better get out of this carriage, we don't take kindly to spies."
We show him our bona-fides, he mulls these over.
:"I don't see any stars and stripes on here, the council of 13 States wouldn't sanction this. Out."
Things get a lot less friendly very very quickly. At bayonet point we are ushered out.

So we've met some Americans, anyway, we arrive shortly after in Slaggyford. The Americans march off in the same direction we apparently want to be going. We can already see HMS Habbakuk in the distance. Somehow the edifice of Pyekrete has found its way between the banks of the river South Tyne, just north of Knarsdale Hall.

It looks like an extra mountain that has just kind of... fallen out of the sky. The jet engines that festoon its surface give a possible hint as to how it got here.

Requisitioning a horse and cart, we get our box up to the Habbakuk, impressed at the number of American troops and indeed flags that seem to be around the place.

Our little bit of little England seems to have become Airstrip One.

We arrive at the tunnel that leads aboard the Habbakuk. Inside, as we (well Angus) carry the box of mysterious roe, we see an awful lot of Americans, and Germans, and Danes (weird eel things) along with a bunch of other nationalities - and of course identifiably different American states. There's nary a union jack to be seen. We're well out of our comfort zone here, but of course UK PLC is skint and we need their help.

What can very quickly be identified as Alan Turing bustles up to us and checks our papers.

We are amazed by the facility, some sort of elephantine octopus cum zebra is electro-prodded into a cell as we watch, meanwhile bits of Martian are shuttled past on a little cart, it seems like every single possible strand of weird in Britbongsteros leads here, and none of it is British. We aren't entirely sure how we feel about this.

The interior of the Habbakuk is a hive of tunnels and activity, it seems everywhere we look there's something strange going on, connotations of the BPRD, the lobby in MIB, and I'm sure there's something in Harry Potter about this, but I've never read the books.

Turing deigns to start giving us the tour.

:"The Habbakuk was a seagoing vessel, as you all know (we didn't really) until about eight years ago when an early experiment in teleportation resulted in our current positioning."
This is actually a tradition in the RN, as, if you're posted to a shore facility, it's still technically an HMS (I think this is for pay reasons), so for example you might be at the facility in Weston Supermare, which is called HMS Birnbeck, or, you might AWESOMELY be at HMS Brontosaurus which is at Castle Toward.

The whole place has a very real vibe of [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmH7tAJ0SfA Cave Johnson].

So what does this mean for us? Well, apparently not much, it seems like there's lots going on and we aren't part of it, there's all kinds of fantastic science which we can observe, it's fascinating in a way, but we're used to things trying to eat our faces by now. What's this about?

:Turing continues: "What are we doing here? Well, science, every single thing that makes no sense in this world, comes here, every single item, book, critter, it gets dissected here, and, hopefully, we can learn from it. One day, we might even be able to use this knowledge to develop the cause of humanity."
:>Turing starts taking us for a little walk through the containment units, highlights include
:>unit 63 - Mountain Negre: a bizarre disappearing teleporting rock bouncing around its containment sphere
:>Unit 34 - A tank full of... goldfish? That somehow swim in philosophical notation
:>Unit 14 - Moondust? Not sure, it is however, slowly painting pictures of people on the toilet
:>Unit 138 - A mass of cogs and vacuum tubes, shifting, trembling and changing, apparently it's eaten 19 people
:>Unit 252 - Bits of our friend from the antarctic
:>Unit 991 - A hamster
:>Unit 5477 - Explosive lemons
:>Unit 7899 - A bookshelf. It's surrounded by skeletons.
The list goes on.

The facility is a fascinating place, the Habbakuk is a repository of every single weirndess and some we have never encountered, a small herd of sentient moa that enjoy poetry, a vase of flowers that happens to enjoy melting eyes, all of that good stuff. Just as we're starting to get comfortable (and drinking some alien drink called "kwafee"), touring takes us past cell 777. It's empty.
:"That shouldn't be empty." he says.
:"What do you mean that shouldn't be empty, Mr. Turing? What should be in there?"
:"Oh nothing much. It's rather peculiar really. 777 contains, or should, the only living dunkleosteus we have ever discovered."
:"We beg your pardon?"
Several adventurers try to smoosh their faces to the glass porthole at once.
:>I remember that fucking fish.
Peering in (so I'm told - being a Dorf I can't really see without standing on something) there is murky green water. Angus knocks on the window.
Something very large and full of teeth (and rather familiar) floats up into view, directly on the other side of the reinforced glass.
:>DUNCAN!
:>who is? Homicidal fish from adventure in Arabia.
:>Hang on didn't we kill this thing?
:"Mr. Turing, where did you get this from?"
:"Hmm? Oh 777? A few months ago it rained fish in London ([https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rain_of_animals this actually happens]), your friend there squashed the Lord mayor. Samuel Johnson managed to clock him one with a frying pan though and here he is. Friendly little fella ain't he?"

As the only member of the party not currently eyeball-to-eyeball with Duncan, I instead decide to make the best of a bad situation by staring at Cruella's backside and chatting to Turing. Turing, being a bong, should be able to give some clues as to the American involvement.

:"How long have the been here Dr?"
:"A few months. Not long after Ireland."
:"What do they want?"
:"They've been quite generous so far, helping to fund the facility. Smedley seems to hope to find something here that'll assist with the Indian Crusades. I'm not so sure about the representative of the 13 States though."

:At this stage it's handy to discuss some more of the politics of the US. The 13 States are new England-ish and currently ruled over by the democratically elected (via one vote, cast by himself) Andrew Gut-Punch Hickory Duelling Jackson. Who has had a very interesting political career. While the East Coast is fantastically wealthy (thanks to ice mining - especially when ice across and around Lake Eerie has (remember those local magical fields?) different flavours or properties. Other wealth has been created from either natural resources or abuse of those magical pockets. For example one Gerald Ford has (before coming to visit Britbongsteros) built his motor vehicle plant with the hell pits of PA at one end as a foundry, the lower gravity up near Shenandoah for assembly (despite the banshees eating the odd worker), and then relies on the eternal night of McAdoo which seems to literally eat light to colour his new vehicles - any colour as long as it's black.

:Anyway all this money flying about finances the Indian Crusades (which haven't gotten very far) and there's plenty of trade with the South which is, in theory, in union with the 13 States but has different political goals, though the south while heavily industrialized often proclaims against the Indian Crusades and indeed moralizes on the 13 colonies, the Yankees generally are dismissive of the Confederated States (run by some fucker called Kingfish Long) dismissing all that booklearnin and gator based clean energy (I'll explain that one later) as irrelevant to the realities of life fighting and sometimes enslaving the injuns. Though to be fair the indians do the same.
:Anyway there's political tension between the two economically, culturally and spiritually, also in their attitude to Europe as the South views themselves as another European nation, the Northern 13 States consider themselves very much their own people, recently there has been a lot of anti-Europe sentiment in the northern press, "Human not European" and similar. So the presence of the Americans in Britbongland is a bit tricky. Especially with the lend lease ships britbongland may buy in return for land cruiser technology and 50 years of repayments (with interest). I'll tell you about what happens West of the Mississippi another time.

:The 13 States rep is a young (for a senator) Richard Nixon. He has a waggling cigarette holder and is every bit the roaring 20s personified. He has taken an entirely acquisitive approach to his time in Bongland, in his view bongland is about ready to become the 51st state.

Anyway, so that's a whole lot of information being dropped on anon at once. Tl;dr = Americana have ulterior motives. Cool boat full of weird shit. The party have a great time looking through more and more of these bizarre cells and critters. Imagine being let loose in the warehouse from Indiana Jones.

We learn some more about the other nationalities that are around in the Habbakuk who, it seems, are present for similar reasons (I.e. American money).

After much exploring, Turing invites us to watch the roe being put into its cell (remember that's why we are here).

The facility has been fascinating, also nothing has tried to eat our faces, there haven't been any aliens (outside of their cells) or ghosts, monsters, critters or indeed ectoplasm spewing time rifts. It's been incredible to learn about all these monsters and things while discussing American politics. Turing has been altogether bro tier.

We watch some diving suited (as in old style diving suit, remember NBC suits haven't been invented yet) men start to unbox the roe on the other side of some nice thick armoured glass. Angus is eating a biscuit, Cruella has a ham sandwich, it's all far too civilized.
:>there are doilies

We all are expecting the following to happen. Smedley Butler will somehow go mental and decide to steal something or kill us all, or maybe some insane shit will escape and start eating some people. I mean come on that's how it works in the movies right? The fourth wall being more of window in Britbongsteros makes us even more suspicious.

Or indeed, actual Richard Nixon is here. Instead we are chatting pleasantly with Alan Turing and everything is fine. The roe is safely planted into a nice sturdy cell. We realize we have no idea what this shit does but no one spills it, no one explodes. It's far too simple.
:>Awooga Awooga
Said the alarms onomatopoeiacally.

This was just what we were expecting. Some squiggly thing is out there raping faces and taking names.

Chairs fall back as the party stand up as one. Guns and other accoutrements of violence being readied in a clatter. The DM is smiling. Why is the DM smiling? Guys...

I say this reasonably often in britbongsteros.
:>it's never easy.
It isn't. It really isn't.

Turing had been facing away from us. He turns back toward us, at least his head does, his body remains in place.
:Like an owl he looks straight at us each in turn. "It never occurred to you what the Habbakuk was, did it?"
Clearly Turing isn't human and, as the roe is fed into some sort of distillation unit (you can see it whirring through a blender and around lots of tubes), gas starts to rise from beneath the window. No one manages to resist the stuff except dwarves who, being lower to the ground, get affected last by this sort of thing. (Pissed on a rag doesn't work either this one is skin based) I manage to spam solid slugs at Turing and the window before succumbing.
:Turing speaks with some care as I go down. "It never occurred to you that this is a repository for all of the strangeness in the world. You, who have survived so much, you all who seem to have been touched by the gods (he means our fate point system), you're too dangerous to be allowed to roam free."

:>Later.

The DM has us all roll some dice. He then ponders. Then he hands the bard a four pack of beers, tells him to pick up his phone, and frog marches him to the cupboard under the stairs in my house.

I wish he'd done this years ago ton be honest. The Bard's player is told he's going to be in there for at least 45 minutes but can, if he wants, shout things at us as we might hear him. On his return the DM asks Cruella if she might mind stepping out for a moment (the DM has over the years learnt that Cruella has literally no scruples about girl on man violence). Cruella elects to go for short drive to the shop on the understanding that every few minutes she calls on speaker phone and screams swearwords down the phone.

Back in character, the Navvie wakes up first alone and locked in a cell. There's a window and a little letterbox thing that evidently food would come through. He has a bucket. He's stark naked. He can hear two things, the gentle hum of the recessed grill covered and nigh on impossible to get to lights, and a posh girl screaming "CUNT" at the top of her lungs every so often. The Navvie takes this with his typical laissez faire attitude.
:DM: "You're also sober. " The DM takes his drink off his player.
The Navvie decides it's time to escape.

'''And then the thread died because no one bumped it and I missed it AGAIN. So, To Be Continued...'''

===The mosquitoes, a muffin and Mokele-mbembe===
We are politely told that there is an issue in Africa (We will need that map soon). In the copper mines of Northern Rhodesia (the top of the blue bit at the bottom of Africa - Zambia in our now extremely boring world) there is a problem. A big problem. Something has been eating the miners. Local legend speaks of an enormous beast that's risen from the depths of lake Tanganyika. It's bigger than a bolo and it's eating a hell of a lot of people.

:''>who's telling us this?''
We are aboard the HMS Ark Royal on our way to Durban. It's a long voyage and our captain (played by the DM) is reading us our sealed orders (signed by the privy council). Kill or capture it.

Our sealed orders even with all the signatures, the pre-amble and everything else we'd expect are a good bit longer than that.

:"As you will note, as at least two of you can read, bordering Lake Tanganikya is the Belgian republic of Congo. We are given to understand that the local Zyoba people may be more sympathetic to British rule than to that of the Belgians. Ensure that their humanitarian concerns are taken into account.
:The party look at each other. "Wat?"
:Wizard: "I think that means we are meant to conquer it."
:Party: "Aaah"

:''>why on earth might anyone the Congo?''
Well it's full of natural resources, diamonds, and a lovely amount of other things. At the moment it's also full of Belgians.
:''>why are copper mines important?''
Copper is wonderful stuff. It's malleable and easily turned into things. It's used in electrics and industrial machinery. Especially in things like boilers and engines - what are battleships powered by?

:''>Belgians''
I think we have talked about Belgians before a bit. Belgians are dragons. At least a few of them are. Their ruler is chosen by dint of who is the largest of the drakes. The current King Leopold I-VI (having eaten his five predecessors he gets their numbers too) is understood to be around 50 yards long. However dragons don't seem to do terribly well in Africa - tending to die to malaria, sleeping sickness, or yellow fever pretty fast so we can expect much smaller and more vigorous dragons with faster immune systems down there.

Either way though, the Belgians probably won't look too kindly on us messing around in their territory and we are in theory allied to them.

:''>African wildlife''
Much as you'd expect, except there's still plenty of pre-historic megafauna roaming around and more than a few dinosaurs. So if there's something big enough to have scared the tribes of people, gorilla men, and other assorted folk in the area away from those mines, it must be terrifying.

By the way, as is traditional, I'm sorry in advance Belgium, Africa, and any other nationalities we might meet. Well, not really, but you have to say this sort of thing nowadays.

:''>The Congo''
The Belgian dragons weren't actually very bothered about sub Saharan Africa (it being full of disease and horribleness as far as they were concerned), but it's also in addition to those natural resources, full of large, interestingly tasty mega fauna. So Leopold I-VI financed his own free state, (As opposed to a Belgian one) and we have heard their methods of social control are... unusual.

Ok I think that's all the fluff we need for now.

The voyage is fairly uneventful aside from one small interlude where we all went swimming (quite common for sailors to do this in tropical waters with a sail weighted appropriately to make a kind of pool). The bard tried talking to dolphins.
:Can dolphins talk?
:>I dunno. Want to try?
:Sure! "Hello flipper!"
:>roll for it
:>rolls
:>They think you're a twat.

We also had an equator crossing ceremony which, when it was all explained that we slimy pollywogs would go through the initiation ceremony, Cruella declined saying enigmatically that she was a trusty, Royal, diamond shellback already. She also had the tattoo.
:>what the fuck are you talking about Aldous?
[https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Line-crossing_ceremony Line-crossing_ceremony]

It was discovered that 'wogs (yes that's appropriate here) have to somehow interrogate a shellback by
:>cracking eggs on them
:Cruella: "...no."
:>pouring aftershave on their heads
:Cruella: "That sounds ok..."
:>Tying them up
:Cruella: "Later."

The rest of us had a great time chasing folk about and the Navvie got quite into it, he and Angus having a competition to see who could egg the most sailors.
No one mentioned that the wogs are made very aware that it will be much harder on them if they do anything like this. Later after being pelted with a lot of rotten fruit and being made to kiss the royal babies belly coated in axle grease we proceeded onward. For once no one got murdered and no cosmic horror shat demonic hordes of flesh eating explosion-beetles.

It was noted that the wizard (being attuned to iron on some deep level) went a bit funny for a while when we crossed the equator and started speaking backwards for a bit.

Sometime later we arrive in Durban. It should be about summer in bongland so it's winter here. It's not too bad actually and the locals are a mix of Europeans of all flavours and Arabs of various degrees of bonkers. Having dropped in by Crazy [[Hassan]]'s camels & other livestock we are just about prepared for our trip north. We can take the train as far as the line has built - n.b. The Cape to Cairo line is being built in Britbongsteros. That it doesn't exist in reality is one of the sadnesses of the end of empire and the second world war as it would have done amazing things. I promise as someone with deep (actual) connections to Rhodesia I won't cry too much about this.

We at least get a lift to Kapiri Mposhi

'''And then the thread died and I didn't learn there even was a thread until weeks later. Fuck me.'''

==Archives==
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/37774934#p37775583 Thread 1]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/37794163 Thread 2]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/37900344 Thread 3]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/38136190 Thread 4]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/38194227 Thread 5]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/38311908 Thread 6]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/38593237 Thread 7]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/38931711 Thread 8]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/39030153 Thread 9]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/39150628 Thread 10]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/39367977 Thread 11]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/39552301 Thread 12]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/40021805 Thread 13]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/40477180 Thread 14]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/40645250 Thread 15]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/41053238 Thread 16]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/41419953 Thread 17]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/41796194 Thread 18]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/42423996 Thread 19]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/48090982 Thread 20]
*[https://warosu.org/tg/thread/48555535 Thread 21]

[[Category:Stories]]

Satanic Panic

2026-05-12T05:45:03Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010214 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{topquote|He knew about concerned citizens. Wherever they were, they all spoke the same private language, where “traditional values” meant “hang someone.” |Terry Pratchett}}
The '''Satanic Panic''' was a moral panic of presumed ritual child abuse against American suburbia, from a period of roughly the end of the 1970s to the start of the 1990s. Janet Reno, DA for Dade County in Florida at the time, made her name prosecuting day-cares for such abuses which, of course, never happened. Relevant to /tg/ this panic impinged upon the tabletop roleplaying community, focused on the [[Dungeons & Dragons]] fandom.

tl;dr - A few misunderstanding and unrelated deaths cause American moralfags to accuse D&D of being a bad influence on their communities, and actively persecute D&D players or anyone who could be mistaken as a D&D player.

==Global Context==
On the note of ''"American moralfags"'', one might be inclined to wonder why there was no analogous (or at least proportionate) moral panic about [[Warhammer]] or [[Warhammer 40,000]] in the UK, considering that it was miles above anything from contemporary D&D in terms of edgy and [[grimdark]]. It likely says something about the culture of the populations in question, or at the very least about the placid nature of the [[Ecclesiarchy|Church of England]].

The Panic has its roots in late 19th century Anglo-American Protestantism. As more mainstream Protestant sects began to incorporate liberal elements of Biblical interpretation and as Anglophone culture as a whole grew more secular (to say nothing of things like the growing acceptance of Darwin's theory of evolution), other more tradition-minded sects declared a need to return to the "fundamentals" of Christian faith, based on literal interpretation of the Bible and a general rejection of secular culture. The goal of these 'fundamentalists' was to attain something of a throwback to the atmosphere of the early frontiers, where anyone who fancied himself a preacher or prophet could set up shop - even if what he was preaching had very little traction on common sense, they'd gain a following as long as he had a glib tongue, enough charisma and some impressive sounding Bible verses (context not necessary due to the literal interpretation part). As they saw it, this was a return to the core traditional principles of the faith, free from un-Biblical modern thinking. Small wonder, then, that the movement clustered in hinterlands like Ulster (John Nelson Darby was seminal) and found ready ears across Dah Pond in America's own backwoods.

Following the debacle of the [https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scopes_Trial| Scopes "Monkey" Trial] in 1925 (where a teacher was accused of violating a Tennessee law preventing the teaching of evolution in school, but in actuality was staged so the town could get tourists- the teacher was found guilty on a technicality but popular sentiment was in his favor), they had withdrawn into their own subculture, growing increasingly convinced that America had become godless and corrupt under the influence of the secularists. These sentiments only increased in the 60s, when the country was coming off the heels of [[Communism|the second Red Scare]], and growing acceptance of extramarital sex and feminism came to be perceived as a threat to "traditional family values". This intensified again in the 70's when those prior events opened the door for another potential threat via No-fault divorce laws being introduced across states.

By the 80s, a new generation of charismatic Protestant preachers such as Jerry Falwell and Billy Graham paved the way for these 'fundamentalists' to return to the public sphere. Thus began the rise of what then called itself "Moral Majority" and is now known as "the religious right", as the fundamentalists quickly forged ties with like-minded politicians. As Presidents Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan - different political parties, note - were among the politicians in question, this meant they had a ''lot'' of influence in American society. Funnily enough, these same people’s politicization of Christianity would drive younger people away from it in later generations, a fact they are only now coming to realize (although they blame the later generations for it, because in their minds nothing is ever their fault).

Britain, for what it's worth, only ever came as close to the panic in the mid-'80s through the efforts of one [[Inquisitor Greyfax|Mary Whitehouse]]'s campaign against "[[Slaanesh|video nasties]]" (i.e. horror/exploitation films that were unclassified, because obsolete British film censorship laws [[FAIL|hadn't been updated to account for the existence of videotapes]], and thus could be legally rented by viewers as young as 10) - and very few people took her seriously even then, on top of the campaign [[Derp|sparking a profound interest in the otherwise unremarkable low-budget grindhouse/horror movie schlock that made up the majority of that list.]] True to her brethren setting their crosshairs squarely on DnD across the pond, however, in her crusade to stamp out material she'd never actually seen but objected to on vague overheard principle, she similarly instinctively homed in on anything remotely dungeony or dragony, resulting in the significant toning-down of beloved and totally inoffensive childrens' dungeon-crawling TV gameshow "Knightmare" - amongst modifications made to placate her, the face-turning-into-a-skull health meter was replaced with a pie losing slices.

=='Ere We Go==
The roots of the whole mess began in 1979, when a troubled teenager named James Dallas Egbert III disappeared for a month after, reputedly, having earlier attempted to commit suicide in the utility tunnels under the campus of Michigan State University. Failing to off himself, he instead hid in a friend's house for a month. During that time, private investigator William Dear, hired by Egbert's parents, speculated to the media that he might have gotten lost during an attempt to use the utility tunnels for a [[Live Action Roleplaying]] session. The press, of course, ate this shit up, especially when Egbert went and blew his brains out in 1980.

This incident was later used by hack writers to produce the cheesy 1981 "horror" novels ''Hobgoblin'' and ''[[Mazes and Monsters]]'', both of which ran with the basic plotline of "roleplayer loses his mind because of roleplaying and ultimately ends up killing or nearly killing himself" - Mazes and Monsters even got a freaking film adaptation a year later, which you can read about on its own page.

This controversy was bad enough, but at the time the advent of real-but-mostly-harmless "Satanic" groups like the Church of Satan (itself a counterculture to the above fundie revival; incidentally, the Church of Satan doesn't actually worship Satan, but instead uses him as a symbolic entity representing individualism and rebellion against conformity), as well as other cults that allegedly kidnapped and brainwashed children, gave Christian fundamentalists more fuel for their paranoia. At the same time, therapists and social workers were pushing for greater recognition of child sexual abuse as a serious crime, and in spite of their good intentions they developed a tendency to be overzealous in investigating possible abuse; this was itself exacerbated further by the growing awareness of post-traumatic stress disorder and the assumption that memories "recovered" via hypnosis were perfectly accurate representations of events (as opposed to being unintentionally created by the therapists and social workers themselves). The end result was a bunch of people who were convinced that the US was filled with cannibalistic, child-raping, and generally evil Satanic cults that controlled the secular world from the shadows and whose very existence was a threat to society.

This ended up getting linked to tabletop RPGs because of one particular asshole.

==Meet Patricia Pulling==
When her son Irving killed himself in 1982, Patricia Pulling (also writer of the book "The Devil's Web: Who Is Stalking Your Children For Satan?") claimed it was because he had been placed under a "D&D curse". Not totally in her right mind, she first tried to sue Irving's principal, and then [[TSR]] itself. Naturally, the legal system threw her out on her ear, noting that this made absolutely no sense and that the more logical answer had to do with pre-existing social and psychological problems, such as being bullied at school. But the damage was done in giving her a public appearance to begin with.

Inspired by the two-year legal battle, some fucktards in Canada produced the 1983 film "Skullduggery", which went a step beyond its equivalents from before; a roleplaying game explicitly identified as D&D ultimately turned a player into a serial-killing lunatic. ''Hobgoblin'' had titled itself after a fictitious Celtic-themed RPG, whilst ''Mazes & Monsters'' had used its same-name D&D pastiche, but here the real game was explicitly named, and thus came the shame.

Furthermore, by 1983 Mrs. Pulling was making connection with a bunch of fundy Christian groups, along with one Illinois psychiatrist by the name of Thomas Radecki, director of the National Coalition on Television Violence. Together, they founded Bothered About Dungeons & Dragons - a collection of religious bigots, bullies, jerks, clueless parents and assorted well-meaning but ignorant folks out to stop the depredation of "evil D&D". When Pulling's case was finally dismissed in 1984, BADD (a name that implies someone on the marketing team was phenomenally self-aware ''or'' unaware) went into full attack mode. Naturally, the infamous [[Dark Dungeons]] tract by [[Jack Chick]] was written during that same year.

It must be repeated that BADD '''lost''' every single attempt at litigation they ever attempted, but the credulous public ate up their bullshit and responded by shitting on D&D players everywhere. Teachers, parents, Christian pastors and even on occasion the police tried to stomp on those who liked to roleplay; they used everything from verbal and emotional harassment to seizing and destroying roleplaying materials, blocking RPG groups from using public spaces to socialize and even sabotaging groups by planting false evidence of satanic rituals and/or possession of drugs and/or pornographic material before calling the police.

==Reactions==
Amazingly, during the 1980s, the tabletop gaming community seemed to actually just ''take'' this shit. For a significant portion of the '80s, the prevailing attitude was one of apologetic self-censorship, striving to prove that they were moral people by passive resistance. However, behind the scenes, angry players were going on the attack; writers began publishing investigations into the seedier side of many anti-D&D big names in [[Dragon Magazine]]. The academic credentials of Thomas Radecki and Patricia Pulling were debunked. Numerous links were forged with academics and government agencies studying youth suicide and academic publications on gaming were collated and made available to gamers wanting to investigate and/or debunk anti-RPG claims.

Gamers began to coordinate lobbying campaigns by phone, letters, public forums, the burgeoning internet and word of mouth as a means of informing the media, law enforcement, educators and local government about RPGs and their role in youth culture. Links were forged with the Skeptics' Society and other secularist organizations who had been independently questioning the existence of "Satanic ritual abuse". Articles were written in Skeptics Society journals and psychology journals, and law enforcement officers and criminologists, such as Robert Hicks, began to debunk and expose the religious origins of anti-gaming claims and question their relevance in law enforcement initiatives. Perhaps the greatest blow to the credibility of B.A.D.D, Patricia Pulling and Thomas Radecki was the publication of Michael Stackpole’s “Pulling Report” in 1989. This report severely criticized the ethics and methodology of anti-RPG campaigners, provided conclusive evidence that the suicide rate was '''lower''' amongst roleplayers, and was widely distributed amongst law enforcement, educational bodies, game manufacturers, gamers, and government agencies.

Outside of the gaming sphere, the larger "moral majority" movement grossly overreached by trying to go after glam rock, with Tipper Gore (VP Al Gore's wife) famously dragging Dee Snider into congressional hearings about obscene music, only for the likes of John Denver and Frank Zappa to criticize the movement for its brazen disregard for artistic and civil liberty.

The cultural zeitgeist changed. No longer was it a movement defending culture and children. It was unmasked as a bunch of heckling protestant busybodies who hate fun.

Thanks to years of work by D&D's defenders and other skeptics, the "Satanic Ritual Abuse" phenomenon being exposed as equal parts mass hysteria and con artistry, and the recurring failure of its attackers to actually win any legal battles or fail to avoid being debunked, the public grew out of it. Some people tried to keep the fire of it going - in 1988, authorities chose to focus on Chris Pritchard's being a D&D player as the "reason" for his murdering his stepfather, rather than his long history of mutual antagonism and his heavy drug and alcohol use. But years of moral hysteria with no actual payoff had robbed BADD and its fellow shitheads of any significant standing from anyone beyond the fundamentalists and the paranoid. The steady stream of actual intelligence revealed that most of the witnesses giving "testimony" to the abuse were remembering things that never happened and were also logically impossible, such as mass human sacrifices in an area where such activity could not possibly have gone unnoticed. In other words, they were coerced into giving false evidence by overzealous prosecutors at best and at worst were outright lying about the abuse they supposedly witnessed in order to get their fifteen minutes in the spotlight. In 1989, an absolute fuck by the name of William Schnoebelen published a pair of articles that claimed D&D was a New Age Satanist front to steal people away from Christianity; by then, most people looked at Schnoebelen's claims that D&D could actually summon demons and work real magic (and the fact he was being bankrolled by Jack Chick), and dismissed him for the crank that he was.

==Not That BADD==
Ironically, the Satanic Panic had some rather positive effects on the RPG world:

* First and foremost, it was instrumental in forging a shared sense of community amongst roleplayers of all types; they might still bicker and argue over internal minutiae, but now [[Gets shit done|they'll come together in the face of an outside threat]]. Prior to the Panic, RPGers had just been hobbyists; coming together for support under the Panic's suffocating blanket made them a culture in their own right.

* Secondly, it established roots between roleplayers and alternative religious subcultures. Whether this is ''necessarily'' a good thing depends heavily on one's perspective (plenty of D&D players would be happy ''not'' to be associated with "I shall play for you the songs of my people" style neo-Paganism, or [[White Wolf]]'s [[edgy]] takes on religions both past and present.)
** During the late 80s and the 90s, the roleplaying community became extremely critical if not outright hostile toward Christianity, though that sentiment is generally waning now as the Panic fades from memory. The years in which the most public face of American Christendom was people preaching hellfire and brimstone sermons on the evil of the largely innocuous pastime of roleplaying bred a strong resentment of Christianity ''as a whole'' into the RPG community, as gamers found themselves shit upon from multiple angles due to the church providing a megaphone for BADD's moronic ideas.
*** [[irony|In a bit of tasty irony for a community that came to despite Christianity for a while, D&D's founding father Gary Gygax was himself Christian]] (albeit of a liberal persuasion). A few other [[Tolkien|foundational]] [[CS Lewis|authors]] of the fantasy genre were also Christian, as was highly-influential D&D contributor Tracy Hickman, a devout Mormon and sometime missionary.
** The only good things to come out of this are an increase in fact-checking among all sides involved and a willingness to branch out in story elements, which led to the rise of franchises like [[Call of Cthulhu]] in the 80s and [[World of Darkness]] in the 90s.

==Meanwhile in Italy==
An interesting side note in this story is what happened in Italy. News from USA media filtered here. Italian culture is a strange duck where "proper intellectuals" think that nothing past the middle ages could have real influence or meaning. Therefore the D&D part was completely skipped. But the "satanism doing bad stuff to children" kinda took roots. There were some investigations that supposedly uncovered satanist cults abusing children. Something that might surprise you - or really not if you know a thing or two about history - is that basically the only ones to come out and say "wtf is this bullshit about Satan? None of this can be real" was the Catholic Church, of all people. After all the Inquisition were torching exactly the same people putting up this kind of panics in the middle ages (usually). Not so funny, some thirty-odds years later some journalists said "What if we do our job for once?", started digging and found out that there was no real basis and kids were taken from their families on bogus charges. And never fucking returned. The whole thing spawned a trial started in 2020 called "Il caso di Bibbiano" (Bibbiano's case, from the name of one of the towns involved). Really scary stuff on what can happen when media-induced hysteria meets overzealous psychologists.

==The Satanic Panic in the Modern Era==
There are still some lingering attempts to tap into this long-dead phenomena - in 2013, several news articles claimed that in Israel, playing D&D was actually frowned upon by the Israeli Defence Force. Almost immediately, reporters who'd done ''actual'' research reported that this was complete bullshit; D&D is hugely popular in Israel, to the point that a good DM can actually get paid money for being willing to run peoples' games. This situation in the IDF was probably confined to the [[House Cawdor|certain type of Jewish fundamentalist who objects to pictures of women being published in newspapers]]. Fundamentalists, who by their very nature assume that any form of media not endorsing whatever cause they follow must be evil, still sometimes make the same old complaints under the pretense that "[[Illuminati|the Satanists are powerful enough to hide the evidence]]" in-between bouts of attacking other boogeymen, but nobody listens outside of their own echo chambers for the most part. While the panic has never truly stopped since its inception, the major driving forces have long since subsided in the eyes of the public, and the more contemporary forms of media are more likely to be targeted by fundies nowadays due to their greater prevalence in society - most notably [[/v/|video games]], but TV and movies remain a favored punching bag as well.

On an amusing note, Thomas Radecki would later be arrested in 2013 and sentenced for 11-22 years in prison for over-prescribing addictive opioids through a crooked rehab program, dealing in proceeds of unlawful activity, and trading said opioids to 13 different female patients in exchange for sex. As is the trend elsewhere, it figures that the loudest moral guardians usually have a few skeletons in their closets.

And of course, there is QAnon, which is the lovechild of all the above with the special brand of insanity found only on [[/pol/]]. It would be better for everyone if we kept it at that.

This was the Satanic Panic. Good fucking riddance, but it's a shame that it won't stay dead.

==But Since It's Still Here...==
Are you sitting here wondering about the fact that, despite all the grief it's given the hobby, there's not a shred of info detailing how other tabletop publishers themselves <s>lampooned</s> creatively handled the entire debacle? Do you find yourself thinking "There's absolutely no fucking way Dungeons and Dragons was the only game ever targeted"? [[Lulz|Just want some more fundie shenanigans to laugh at?]] Look no further, nondescript reader, for [[Gets shit done|we hath delivered]]!

Below is a list of other, smaller moral panic-style controversies; we're sticking primarily to tabletop because, besides being a /tg/-based wiki, if we had to cover every time any piece of new media got tarred as Satanic (even if it never so much brushed the topic of magic), it'd take an entire year just to get one-sixth of it done.

*[[Yu-Gi-Oh]] and [[Magic: The Gathering]] are obvious candidates vis a vis "summoning otherwordly beings" and "controlling supernatural beasts", the former in particular since it was marketed towards children, on top of the fact that the former was made by ''foreigners''. As far as "understandable motives easily abused for zealotry", marketing questionable material towards kids is pretty high on the Fundie Moral Outrage Shitlist™, since that definition is extended to almost fucking ''everything.'' See also: [[Pokemon]], [[Harry Potter]], etc.
**Most of the outrage over Pokemon was over ghosts, psychics, and frequent use of the word “evolution” (which was only chosen because the word sounded cool to the Japanese). Incidentally, at the peak of Pokemon's own hysteria, the Catholic Church actually spoke in defense of the games and the first movie! The church has done this increasingly often over the years, even labeling formerly controversial episodes of shows like [[Star Trek]], The Simpsons, and Futurama that dealt with religion as positive depictions of the exploration of faith.
*Vincent Baker's [[kill puppies for satan]] is a parody of early '00's "[[Grimderp|darker and]] [[Edgy|edgier]] [[White Wolf|gaming]]", but also reads like the logical conclusion of what a tabletop game envisioned by the above moral guardians would actually be like, and [http://archive.fo/zIARH garnered the appropriate outrage to boot.]
*[[Mage: The Ascension]]'s Technocracy invokes this, encouraging such panics in order to turn public sentiment against the Traditions; the idea is that, by staining them as [[Illuminati|a worldwide conspiracy bent on conversion and indoctrination]], ''their'' worldwide conspiracy bent on conversion and indoctrination [[Just As Planned|can thus proceed unopposed]].
*Speaking of White Wolf yet again, their Classic [[World of Darkness]] games such as ''[[Vampire: The Masquerade]]'' and ''[[Werewolf: The Apocalypse]]'' has the in-universe [[Black Dog Game Factory]], a subsidiary of Pentex and tongue-in-cheek riff on themselves and other tabletop publishers. Black Dog uses Satanic Panic-style imagery to portray its competition's playerbases as self-hating, self-harming turbonerds who are out of touch with reality and thus no grasp of The Real Issues™, which sounds not unlike the "srs bsns" manner in which some of the books and many of the players approach its themes.
*The [[Dark Matter]] setting has the Final Church, a faction which draws directly from the sort of cults that were believed to influence tabletop games; their supplement's disclaimer drives home the point, [[TL;DR|in no uncertain terms]], that such entities are entirely fictional.
*[[RIFTS]] books all begin with a disclaimer warning that it contains violence, war, magic, and the supernatural - usually juxtaposed (and probably deliberately so) against an image that shows at least one of those things, or more commonly all four. Initially done as a response to the era's anti-RPG hysteria, it's mostly become a sort of traditional relic unique to the series.

[[Category:History]]
[[Category:Roleplaying]]
[[Category:Pure Evil]]
[[Category:Sick]]

Wikichan

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[[Image:Wiki-chan.png|thumb|right|The mascot of Wikichan (a parody of [http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wikipe-tan_sailor_fuku.png Wikipe-tan])]]
'''Wikichan''' was a wiki dedicated to [[4chan]] and imageboard culture in general that existed a few years ago. [[/tg/]] typically used the site as a [[writefag]]gotry depository. The site's history was somewhat turbulent - at one point it was offlined by hosts for displaying personal information about [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hal_Turner Hal Turner], and it suffered at least one major database loss - and in the end it disappeared mysteriously with the primary admin, WikiSysop, never heard from again and no backups ever seen, all of which happened (relatively) long before [[1d4chan]]'s time.

Category:Social Media

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Social media and all the skub that comes with it.
[[category:Not related]]

Instagram

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[[File:Instagram-logo-2011.png|200px|right|thumb|The 2011-era icon.]]
'''Instagram''' is a photo and video sharing social network founded in 2010, and acquired by Facebook in 2012. Instagram is also the realm of ''influencers'', people whose job it is to look pretty and live perfect lives.

Why am I telling you this?

Well, within 10 years of it's founding, Instagram became possibly ''the most widely used'' place to publish glamour shots of [[Warhammer 40,000]] and [[Age of Sigmar]] miniatures. It supplanted the older web forums, like [[DakkaDakka]] and [[CoolMiniOrNot]], that had been around in the decade prior. It also supplanted Games Workshop's own publications, such as [[Warhammer Community]], [[White Dwarf]], and the faction [[Codex]]es. The latter two were the de facto publications to find show-quality miniatures, and also published glamour shots of [[Golden Daemon]] minis (which were ostensibly the best-painted minis in the world!); while the former presently publishes content curated ''partially from Instagram''.

While Games Workshop still authorizes what a "cool" or "good" miniature looks like to some degree, nowadays the wider miniature-making community's decisions about what constitutes "cool" or "good" model now come primarily from content hosted and judged on Instagram.

== What does this mean for you? ==
Well, gentle [[neckbeard]], it means that you need to have a Facebook account to participate in the largest community of Warhammer/AoS model makers and painters. Instagram won't even let you peruse someone's account via a web browser, unless you sign in first. Regardless of what you think of Facebook's aggressive <s>spying</s> ''personal data collection'' practices, the shift in platform away from the more open and accessible public web forums has added a gatekeeper to the hobby's community.

This shift in platform brought about some changes in the way the community is shaped, and is not confined to Instagram. The rise of [[Recommended Web Video Channels|tabletop gaming YouTubers]] and [[Critical Role|Dungeons and Dragons podcasts]] over the turn of the 2020's coincided with the platform shift toward Instagram as a place to showcase models. All of these phenomenon are together propelling certain people into Tabletop Gaming Influencer status, with cross-platform reach and the ability to shape the community as a whole.

[[4chan]] at large doesn't like influencers ([[skub|despite plenty of evidence to the contrary]]), and lionizes anonymity. While /tg/ at large isn't livid about influencers, it's fair to say that our side of the community isn't fond of certain people's opinions or status dominating that of the group. No Egoboos is a rule here, after all. Thus seeing influencers rise in the tabletop gaming space is concerning to some of us. If the primary mood of the online community becomes nothing but pretty perfect people posting pretty perfect models, then [[neckbeards|ugly people]] with [[WIP|imperfect models]] will be unwelcome by default.

[[Category:Social Media]]

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[[File:Reddit-Logo-2005-2017.png|400px|right]]
Reddit is a major social media website, considered by itself (in its delusion) to be the face of the internet as oppossed to [[4chan]] as the stinky unwashed armpit of the internet. Reddit tends to be the more ad-friendly equivalent of 4chan, though that isn't [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Controversial_Reddit_communities saying much].

Reddit differs from 4chan in that you can found your own subreddits, which are generally left alone unless controversy or money gets in the way. This has a positive of giving people more power in their own subreddits, the downside of course being that some subreddits are barely touched, especially some of the lower interest/niche subreddits.

==Relationship (or lack there of) with /tg/, and 4chan at large==
For the most part there isn't one, the two avoid the other like siblings who hate each other. Occasionally you'll get somebody who posts a link from one site to the other, and this will be followed by complaining about the other site. With that said Reddit does contain a number of subreddits with /tg/ relevant topics. (As to which topics get brought into /tg/, we provide a list further below.)

One reason for the general dislike between the two sites lies in Reddit's atmosphere and culture: Reddit ''loves'' sorting by "recommended" (i.e.: heavily upvoted) posts, so many threads devolve into people dropping in, posting a hot take aimed at farming upvotes, then vanishing in the wind when the liketrain grinds to a halt - all while posts with actual thought behind them are pushed down to the bottom of the thread. Making matters worse, the way that subreddits can be set up and curated by any user means it's ''very'' easy for echochambers of the kind that made old [[Tumblr]] so toxic to form: the subreddit's users can just downvote anything they disagree with until it becomes hidden by default (on top of being pushed to the thread's bottom), while the mods can unilaterally ban anyone going against the subreddit's zeitgeist.

In general though across most boards if someone believes you are a redditor, they will tell you that you have to go back. You are more likely to be told this if you use spacing often between ideas, using "memeflags", act like a troll/shill for something, or are generally disruptive. Or you posted something really cringe. Ironically enough, this is also the general reaction to 4channers on Reddit, and people on both sites often end up behaving in exactly the same way in any case.

Remember, don't be a Redditor, be a Reddit User.

==Current Status==
As of late, Reddit (as well as Twitter) has become the subject of many memes and jokes regarding the fact that their users have no lives, are stupid, or else any combination of the two. Some attribute this to the great Tumblr exodus, where some of the homeless NSFW artists migrated to Reddit.

While it would be overall foolish to say that Tumblr users alone have effected Reddit's reputation, the widespread willingness to mock Reddit also comes from the stereotypical arrogance of their userbase. Which to be fair, 4chan could also be accused of the same thing, but 4chan at least doesn't have people accusing each other of attempting to harvest upvotes every time they post.

TL;DR: 4chan largely despises Reddit's userbase for being preachy, arrogant, and generally loud-mouthed idiotic assholes. The feeling is mutual.

==/tg/ relevant subreddits==
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/40kLore/ r/40kLore]''' Good for answering lore questions, and is the number one breeding ground for book excerpts, plot summaries, and the occasional bit of fan fiction. Very up-to-date on the latest releases. Unfortunately like many subreddits it's no stranger to circlejerks of insufferably stupid opinions and mods who enjoy their power a bit too much.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/40kOrkScience/ r/40kOrkScience]''' Reddit users post memes, jokes, and random thoughts from an Ork's point of view. It's about as silly as you might expect.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/1d4chan/ r/1d4chan]''' Functionally obsolete thanks to the advent of our Discord server, and was mostly dead even before that point.
* '''[https://www.reddit.com/r/Grimdank/ r/grimdank]''' Extremely briefly became a [[Battletech]] sub in protest of GW's new IP policy, then dropped that and became half meme and half circlejerk. Suffers from passed-two-hundred-thousand-followers syndrome; an annoying vocal minority of hardcore GeeDubs haters and repost bots are major annoyances. Still good for a few quick laughs and general 40k memery; to its dubious credit, it's a cut above most Facebook 40k meme groups.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/warhammer/ r/warhammer]'''
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/warhammer40k/ r/warhammer40k]''' The main discussion subreddit for 40k. Deals in everything from fan and official artwork to shots of painted minis to rule questions, but is a bit too broadly focused for its own good. Often clogged to the gills with posts of painted minis, so be ready to skim a lot or master the art of searching.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/warhammerfantasy/ r/warhammerfantasy]'''
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/ageofsigmar/ r/ageofsigmar]''': General purpose AoS subreddit.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/aoslore/ r/aoslore]''' See 40kLore, but for Age of Sigmar.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/40krpg/ r/40krpg]'''
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/WarhammerCompetitive/ r/WarhammerCompetitive]''' Lots of discussion on 40k and AoS meta and competitive play. Great for those who like to play competitive or who need a bit of tactical/list-building advice.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/dnd r/dnd]''' Only just barely on this side of "not recommended" due to suffering r/gaming disease: It's a bit too general purpose for its own good. In this case, the main symptom is the flood of character art that drowns out basically any other topic.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/pathfinder r/pathfinder]''' (for the Paizo campaigns), '''[https://www.reddit.com/r/pathfinder_RPG r/pathfinder_RPG]''' (for the actual RPG), '''[https://www.reddit.com/r/Pathfinder2e/ r/Pathfinder2e]''' (for the second edition).

More general purpose:
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/rpg r/rpg]''' Tabletop RPGs, mind, not C or J RPGs.
** [https://www.reddit.com/r/rpg/wiki/subreddits r/rpg also maintains a list of RPG subreddits]
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/wargames r/wargames]''': General purpose wargaming subreddit.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/worldbuilding r/worldbuilding]''' the /r/egulars have been at this for years, so don't make the mistakes made in [[Dragonlance]] or [[Critical Role]]; Read This First if you're a GM starting a campaign world.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/dndgreentext/ r/dndgreentext]''': [[/tg/]] relevant greentexts.

Relevant, but not recommended:

*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/Sigmarxism/ r/sigmarxism]''': Varies between being a very left-wing 40K general and a sanctimonious pack of extremely preachy left-wing assholes (varying from self-professed Marxists to outright SJWs) wearing the skin of a 40k subreddit. Hates teh ebil capitalists at GeeDubs with a passion that would be hilarious if it wasn't so utterly pathetic. Mods are known for [https://www.reddit.com/r/Sigmarxism/comments/hia3z4/psa_leftpunching/ posting hypocritical bullshit about "not punching left"] while they shit on anyone that isn't as left-wing as they are ([[Irony|including other left-wing ideologies]]) and [https://i.imgur.com/ozEGKyw.png permitting the presence of tankies]. Best avoided, beyond the miniature pics.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/dndmemes r/dndmemes]''': Suffers from the same issue as most meme subreddits -- very few memes on there are actually funny or original (sometimes the "memes" are literal screenshots of Twitter posts; functional reposts of the same image with changed texts are another big problem), making it good for karmawhoring and little else.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/archwarhammer r/archwarhammer]''': Only listed here for mild amusement value: Formerly dedicated to ArchWarhammer, a controversial Warhammer video creator. After a particularly bad bit of controversy, his subreddit's mod team gave the admin keys to his detractors (the same people running that sigmarxism shithole sub) who turned it into a subreddit (supposedly) dedicated to Warhammer Fantasy and 40k architecture, especially arches.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/4chan/ r/4chan]''': We see you seeing us seeing you. Mainly [[/b/]] focused, with all the bullshit, boobs, bastardry and brain-blistering buffoonery that implies. How much you enjoy it will vary depending on your favoured boards - if you hate /b/, stay out of this.
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/greentext/ r/greentext]''': Softer version of r/4chan. Sometimes good for a laugh, other times full of slightly less unpleasant /b/tard bullshit. Again, how much you enjoy it is very reliant on your tastes.

Not Relevant, Not Recommended, But Still A Funny Story:
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/marijuanaenthusiasts/ r/marijuanaenthusiasts]''': Actually a subreddit for tree enthusiasts. As in, actual trees, like oaks, pines and so on. Got its name because the main ''actual'' marijuana enthusiast Reddit community was named "r/trees".
*'''[https://www.reddit.com/r/anime_titties/ r/anime_titties]''': A subreddit for discussing world politics, of all things. Got its name from the fact that the actual r/worldpolitics was so undermoderated that people started shitposting pictures of anime girls' breasts to prove the mods just didn't care (and, as it turned out, the Mods really didn't). It was eventually decided to just start a new subreddit with an active mod team, and to name it after the controversy. (Note that "r/animetitties" (no "_") is a different subreddit, and actually what you'd expect from that name.)

==See also==
*[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reddit Wikipedia Entry for Reddit]
[[category:Social Media]]

Tumblr

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{{heresy}}
[[File:Tumblr-logo-2007-2013.png|400px|right]]
'''Tumblr''' is a free microblogging platform owned and operated by Verizon. The service allows users to post multimedia and other content to a short-form blog. Users can follow other users' blogs, as well as make their blogs private, if desired. Much of the website's features are accessed from the "dashboard" interface, where the option to post content and posts of followed blogs appear. This enables, in theory, a stream of content even if a given blogger is not able to actively update that often. In practice, Tumblr's ability to reblog individual blogs tends to lead to a lot of flat-out cropped content from other blogs, but that's not what brought it to [[/tg/]]'s notice. The site wouldn't really warrant any interest from the *chans or /tg/ in general if it weren't for the fact that there were a number of artists on tumblr [[/d/|catering]] [[/aco/|to]] [[PROMOTIONS|some]] [[Warhammer 40,000|of]] [[Hot Chicks|/tg/'s]] [[Monstergirls|many]] [[Slaanesh|interests]], and its often stormy relationship with the chans for reasons too complex to describe in depth within the scope of this article. If you really care [https://encyclopediadramatica.rs/Tumblr go ask ED.]

==Notoriety==
To make an increasingly long and irritating story short, Tumblr's heavy association as a gathering place for the [[SJW|terminally offended]] and their crusade against all things fun and entertaining clashes with *chan's atmosphere of no-holds-barred, obnoxious irreverence. Additionally, microblogs, specifically the emphasis on every user having his own name and writing about himself, tends to cause friction with a userbase of ([[tripfag|mostly]]) anonymous masses that shun all notions of identity. For what it is worth both groups have more crossover than they would generally care to admit, as evidenced by the "/co/umblr" phenomenon.

Of course, Tumblr isn't ''all'' leftist whackjobs circlejerking from their college's Starbucks. Much like how neo-Nazis and paleoconservatives drown out the ancaps and libertarians on [[/pol/]], the filter-bubbling, popularity-contest atmosphere of Tumblr means that of the varied political opinions found on the site only the whackos ever make their way out. Most of the site is memes and porn, artists [[/d/|putting dicks on things that should never have dicks]], and some hobby-related complaining mixed with batshit insane wackos trying to ship fictional characters with the seriousness of an elderly grandparent who wants grandchildren. Bear in mind that, thanks to algorithms trying to determine what content to suggest to you on the site, clicking mostly on things that offend you will eventually result in only seeing things that will piss you off and enforce a confirmation bias that the site is full of your political opposite.

Our suggestion: ''Come for the art, stay for the porn, leave when people start talking about their opinions.''

==Later history==
Or rather, that's how it used to be. In late November 2018 Tumblr found its app removed from the Apple store because of all the spambots. Spambots advertising porn, that have been doing so for years with no action to actually do anything about it until their money was threatened. Rather than crack down on spambots, Tumblr staff told their algorithm to start banning porn accounts with a lot of search-engine prominence. Naturally this only banned the actually good artists and didn't solve any of the problems, causing a massive backlash as artists scrambled to get unbanned. On December 3rd, Tumblr's corporate overlords announced they had learned exactly the wrong lesson and issued an ultimatum: Tumblr would be forever SFW, and the remaining porn artists had two weeks to GTFO. Following this, many NSFW content creators have taken Tumblr's advice, and have made a mad dash for greener pastures. The social justice bloggers will most likely return to Livejournal from whence they originally came, whereas the artists have spread to a wide variety of websites, vast majority going to Twitter, though in a strange turn of events has caused Newgrounds of all sites to regain popularity after over a decade of irrelevancy.

The aftermath of the Tumblr Exodus was massive and was felt throughout the site. As it turned out those NSFW artists didn't always make NSFW content, so when they left, the people who followed those blogs for SFW content also left, causing a ripple effect of mass leaving. Entire communities up and vanished from the site, leaving abandoned and deactivated blogs to the winds. In a macabre twist of fate, even after the supposed ban that was supposed to get rid of the pornbots, those bot accounts are still out and active. In fact, they are arguably worse now than before, now absentmindedly adding hearts to comment sections to try and pump their numbers. The algorithm in place to monitor for porn was and still is notoriously terrible, with things that are in no way related to porn getting flagged. Meanwhile, several [[Furry]] artists have figured out that if you drew porn that didn't necessarily involve genitals, or made the proportions so ridiculously exaggerated that they barely resembled any semblance of human anatomy, you could totally get away with posting porn. In other words, all their huffing and puffing about "females presenting nipples" only served to [[Fail| kill any interest in it being used as a platform for creators.]] Tumblr would eventually be sold to Wordpress for a paltry 3 million dollars, which is a sliver compared to the 1.1 billion Verizon bought it for. Having become all but defunct, Tumblr's remains stand as a testament to the failure of a bunch of short-sighted, greedy executives who did not understand their viewer base.

==Art Blogs and Shit /tg/ Actually Care(d)s About==
Many blogs contain mixed SFW and [[Promotions|NSFW]], in varying degrees. Several are dead due to the Exodus and related events.

===General===
* [http://tgweaver.tumblr.com/ tg weavers trash heap]; monster girls, you love them, I love them, we love them. A casualty of the Exodus.
* [http://tenebrascastle.tumblr.com/ Cuteanon], another /tg/ monster lewd and request artist. Another casualty of the Exodus.
* [http://guoh-art.tumblr.com/ The artist Guoh], known for taking /tg/ art requests as well as providing [[Towergirls|Kobold porn]].
* [http://bolloxtothat.tumblr.com/ bolloxtothat], another artist who also does /tg/ art requests... and [[Kobold]] porn.

===''[[Pathfinder]]''===
* [https://thecreaturecodex.tumblr.com/ Creature Codex], a blog that gives [[Pathfinder]] stats for [[monsters]] from various sources, such as other games or [[mythology]].

===''[[Shadowrun]]''===
* [http://shadowrun.tumblr.com/ ''Shadowrun''], the official Tumblr account for ''Shadowrun''.
* [http://intothesadows.tumblr.com/ Into the Shadows], a ''Shadowrun'' and general [[Cyberpunk]] art blog.
* [http://shadowruninsp.tumblr.com/ Shadowrun Inspiration], a more generalized Cyberpunk art blog, with emphasis on ''Shadowrun''.

===Comics===
* [http://elfquest-wolfriders.tumblr.com/ Elfquest], the Elfquest main Tumblr.

===''[[Magic: The Gathering]]''===
* [http://markrosewater.tumblr.com/ Blog of Mark Rosewater], head designer of [[Magic the Gathering|''MtG'']]. Primarily a Q&A page, with occasional links to [[fluff]] pieces or other ''Magic'' related nonsense.
* [http://whymtgcardsmith.tumblr.com/ Why MTGCardsmith?], an unofficial page that mockingly illustrates why custom ''Magic'' cards are a bad idea. Abandoned.

[[Category:Meme]]
[[Category:Not related]]
[[Category:Social Media]]

Tripfag

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Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010221 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

#redirect [[Fags of 4chan#Tripfag]]

Namefag

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#redirect [[Fags of 4chan#Namefag]]

Hyperborea

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Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010223 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{stub}}

'''Hyperborea''' is a fictious land that originally entered the human knowledge bank in the days of Ancient Greece, when it was invented as a mythical realm at the uttermost northern point of the world - "Hyperborea" is literally Latin for "Beyond The North Wind". It has since passed into /tg/'s lexicon largely for its association with the [[Sword & Sorcery]] universe co-written by [[Robert E. Howard]] and [[Clark Ashton Smith]], but it has a surprisingly long history in being a study of legitimate geographers and anthropologists.

It's also become associated with [[Nazi|Neo-Nazi Mythology]], specifically what Wikipedia calls "Esoteric Nazism." So yeah, that's a thing...

==The Hyperborea Myth==
The earliest mention of Hyperborea appears in Herodotus' Histories (Book IV, Chapters 32–36), though he references three earlier works; in general, Greecian/Hellenic legends describe Hyperborea as a ''terra incognita'' along the lines of [[Atlantis]] or [[Thule]], said to exist at the northernmost point of the world. Blessed with the love and support of both Boreas (god of the north wind) and Apollo (god of the sun), it was a warm and sunny land surrounded by cold, dark wastes that kept its people safe from the dangers of the outer world. Its people, thanks to their divine blessings (and/or divine blood: some stories describe at least the rulers of this land as being the children of Boreas and a snow [[nymph]], which manifested in their gargantuan stature) are said to live for centuries, even thousands of years, and be free of the cruelties of disease and aging.

==Scholars & Crackpots==
Later writers disagreed on the existence and location of the Hyperboreans, with some regarding them as purely mythological, and others connecting them to real-world peoples and places in northern Europe (e.g. Britain, Scandinavia, or Siberia). In medieval and Renaissance literature, the Hyperboreans came to signify remoteness and exoticism. Modern scholars consider the Hyperborean myth to be an amalgam of ideas from ancient utopianism, "edge of the earth" stories, the cult of Apollo, and exaggerated reports of phenomena in northern Europe (e.g. the Arctic "midnight sun").

Even during the time of ancient Greece, Hyperborea became increasingly associated with the Celts, including the ancestors of modern-day Scandinavians.

In modern esoteric thought, the Hyperborean people represented the Golden Age polar center of civilization and spirituality, with mankind, instead of evolving from a common ape ancestor, progressively devolving into an apelike state as a result of straying, both physically and spiritually, from its mystical otherworldly homeland in the Far North, succumbing to the 'demonic' energies of the South Pole, the greatest point of materialization.

We'll let you do the math as to how these beliefs might have intermingled with [[Nazi]] ideology. Or don't and save yourself the brainbleach.

==The Hyborian Age==
The ''[[Hyborian Age]]'', a fantasy-mythical period of Earth's history that was invented by [[Robert E. Howard]] for his [[Sword & Sorcery]] novels. As literally the first officially recognized Sword & Sorcery setting ever invented, it is thusly the most famous of all. Technically speaking, Hyperborea refers to a specific ''continent'' in the Hyborian Age, but everybody recognizes Hyperborea more readily because [[Clark Ashton Smith]] wrote stories set in his buddy Howard's setting and called them "The Hyperborean Cycle".

The Hyborian Age is set in a dim and murky period in the ancient past, long after the sinking of [[Atlantis]], yet long before the recording of modern history. It has been suggested by some of the writers whom Howard allowed to play in his sandbox that the Hyborian Age takes place at the end of the last ice age - 10,000 BC - and others still that it takes place before the last ice age, around 32,500 BC.

It is a low-magic setting; although [[mage]]s and monsters certainly exist, magic is rare and requires lengthy rituals fueled by esoteric ingredients, and whilst some aliens and fiends exist, other "monsters" are implied to be merely primeval remnants of animals otherwise extinct.

The most famous figures associated with the Hyborian Age are [[Conan the Barbarian]], [[Kull]], and [[Red Sonja]]. It is canon to [[Marvel Comics|Marvel]].

==Hyperborea on /tg/==
There have been two [[Dungeons & Dragons]]-based gamelines for Conan, a non-D&D Conan RPG, and two RPGs set in the Hyborian Age; the AD&D Retroclone [[Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerers of Hyperborea]] and the [[5e]]-based [[Primeval Thule]].

[[Category: Literature]]

Fags of 4chan

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Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010224 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

__NOTOC__
[[Image:What_a_tremendous.jpg|thumb]]
The suffix '''-fag''' probably started as a bad attempt at an insult somewhere back in the dark days of history. Soon it became so widespread and applicable to any form of belief, subculture, activity and so on, that it became obsolete. Today, the suffix -fag is just a slangism that carries no fixed positive or negative connotation by itself, and is used to describe someone simply as belonging to a certain group of people. As far as meaning is concerned, it could be replaced by something like "-person" (newfag -> new person). Whether a certain *-fag is used as an insult or not is instead derived from: a) the context of the discussion, especially the person using the word and; b) the part preceding the suffix and not the suffix itself. It can even be used as a sign of affection.

It has been noted that due to the suffix of -fag on 4chan can be as demeaning or endearing as the word "child" is to normal people. Plus implications of man-sex.

For example, a person from Europe might refer to himself as a Eurofag, with a neutral tone, simply indicating that he hails from Europe. "Yeah, I'm a Eurofag, so I can't (and don't want to) watch American football on my TV."

A different (probably non-European) person might use it as an insult. In this case it is the "euro-" part that serves as the carrier of all known negative stereotypes and connotations about Europeans, by the insulting person's cultural viewpoint (e.g., "Shut up Eurofag, go suck some Muslim cock.")

A third usage is almost the same as the first example, but with a more positive connotation. "Eurofags make the best music."

==Board Fags==
===Namefag===
Someone who attributes a name to their posts on 4chan. Namefagging is generally considered a terrible thing, which can and will lead to a 300+ post debate about the merits and disadvantages of identity on imageboards. Basically, don't do it unless you need to be distinguished from other anons.

===Tripfag===
Might be called "namefags+." Tripcodes are like little keys, to show people that the other guy posting as BobsUrUnkle isn't really you. Much like namefagging, you should avoid this unless using it to establish identity for a certain project (such as Weaver when running [[Ruby Quest|RubyQuest]]). No other purpose is acceptable.

===Newfag===
A poster who has allegedly arrived at the current board or topic later than the person using the term. See also: [[summer|newfag summer]], a mostly imaginary menace people blame on dumb users.

===Oldfag===
Basically the opposite of a newfag. This term is commonly used to describe how many years said person has surfed 4chan. Many /b/tards measure their e-peens with it:
::Oldfag1: ''I am an oldfag, I have been on 4chan for 2 years.''
::Oldfag2: ''Newfag! I'm a real oldfag. Been here 2 years 6 months!''
::Oldfag3: ''You both are newfags, 2 years 7 months''
::Oldfag4: ''I've been here since 2004, you newfags shut your infant mouths''
::<s>Old</s>Newfags 1,2,3: ''Okay.jpg''

===OP===
:The [[OP]] of any thread is automatically considered one or more of these.

===Anonymous===
:The anti-fag. On [[/tg/]], people generally adopt a name or tripcode when it is germane and abandon it the rest of the time, so any given Anonymous is impossible to tell from any other. Other boards use usercodes that allow people to identify a user from others even if they don't put anything in the name field, but /tg/ does not.

==Creator Fags==
===Drawfag===
A person who doodles images of varying relevance, sometimes with a surprising degree of skill. See the [[Drawfag|main article]].

===Writefag===
Any person on a message board who likes creating stories. There's a [[Writefag|wiki page]] for it, and a [[:Category:Stories|category]] for their work.

===Wikifag===

Someone who spends all day obsessively editing a wiki. It's you, you are that fag.

==Bad Fags==
===Samefag===
A fag who will post the same thing twice, or agree with himself posing as another, so that other people will think that there's more than one idiot in favor of a certain thing.

===Touhoufag===
Touhoufags are fans of the [[Touhou]] video game series, which you can ask /jp/ about. You can recognize them by the image of little girls in frilly dresses they add to each message they post, sometimes weirdly relevant to the context of the thread.
"Touhoufag" is a specific user on /tg/. He was banned for a long time by Nazi [[Mod]], but returned around the release of [[Dungeons_&_Dragons_5th_Edition|D&D Next]]. An army of Touhoufags (possibly including that one) are making D&D 4th edition [[Touhou Power Cards|power cards]] using Touhou fanart ripped from Danbooru.

===Avatarfag===
A softer form of identification on threads, in which an anon uploads various images of the same character along each of their posts. Avatarfags are not usually hated with as much unadulterated vehemence of their Namefag and Tripfag brethren, but they are still mocked by the superior anons, usually with implications that the neckbeard responsible has a crush on his avatar. Avatarfagging was discouraged in the earlier days of 4chan for its unnecessary impact on server load (uploading images unrelated to the discussion just for the sake of having an identity), and is still on the books as a rule you can be banned for violating.

===Moralfag===
A poster who is ''so disappointed'' at other posters' lack of tegridy. Be it [[Tracy Hickman]] sperging out at the [[Book of Vile Darkness]] having vile darkness in it, or [[Sean Reynolds]] casting righteous dudgeon against White Male Terrorists importuning females at conventions; the moralfag is better than you, and you should bow to him.

==(whatever)fag==
Any one person related in any way, shape or form to the (whatever) in the title. You can put anything there, seriously. E.g.: "Eurofag," "Amerifag," "Mathfag," "4fag," "straightfag," "WoWfag," "FagFagFaggityFag-Fag".
The term for a "Japanfag" is [[Weeaboo]].
Common types of fags who are seen frequenting /tg/ are:
*40kfags
*heresyfags
*Britfags (Teaboos, also Britbongs)
*Ausfags

==Fag==
[[Image:Edible_faggotry.jpg|thumb|WARNING: Only suitable for Britfag consumption.]]
Homosexual. Sometimes used as a generic insult, though usually with little effect. Can be referred to as a [[Skaven|Fagfag]] or Gayfag.
Faggot is also an archaic term for a bundle of sticks, specifically the pile of sticks that witches were burned over for being homosexual, most likely where 'fag' as colloquial language for a cigarette or a bassoon came from. This is also were the term "Flaming" came from.
It is consequently hilarious to read [[The Lord of the Rings]] whenever they talk about "throwing faggots [the bundle of stick kind] onto the fire".
As well as for meatballs. Not so archaic, though.
As noted, amongst Britfags the word "fag" unqualified will usually mean "a cigarette" ... so neither burning a fag, nor bumming one, should be a cause of concern if discussed in a British accent, other than the fact that smoking is a form of faggotry on its own.

Fag is also the term given to younger boys at British boarding schools who act as a sort of batman for older students - batman as in “soldier servant” (British boarding schools historically being factories for sending young, upper class toffs to Sandhurst), rather than Batman the caped crusader. It’s worth mentioning that said boarding schools were also rife with (mostly non-consensual) buggery as well as all manner of traumatic sexual abuse - rich people are fucked up.

It's noteworthy that the Italian term for the archaic faggot is 'fascina', which share its origins with 'Fascism' (deriving from 'fascio' (meaning group/league) in Italian, which derives from latin 'fascis' (the bunch of sticks)), the common root being that one Aesop fable about first breaking individual twigs over your leg and then trying and failing the same with a bundle of 'em to demonstrate the power of banding together as a group. So, it could be 'Faggotism' in English...

[[Category:4chan]]

Nazi Equipment

2026-05-12T05:41:50Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010225 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

[[Nazi|Nazis]]. History's most stylish villains. They're famous as much for their cool equipment as for their total evilness, and because of its distinctive aesthetic and reputation- they did develop some of the most technologically advanced weapons of the 1940s, after all- it gets a lot of use in games, both traditional and otherwise. Here's a hilariously non-brief overview. As a general rule of thumb (with the exception of the Karabiner 98 which predated the Nazis by decades) Nazi equipment was [[plasma|very advanced in concept and potentially quite strong, but overly complicated and unreliable to the point of being dangerous to its user.]]

The vast majority of what you see below fall into four categories (with the others being direct legacies of Imperial Germany or captured gear), staples of Nazi engineering:
* Decent design, but too little too late,
* Decent design, but too advanced for the technology available to be of any real use on a battlefield where ease of use and reliability are major contributors to success (case in point: the hybrid drive of the [[Elefant|Ferdinand]]),
* High Command squandered the potential because they either weren't using it to full capacity or for purposes it wasn't designed for, Jewish slave-labor doing little sabotages didn't help either (Such as V-2 rockets' rivets sometimes coming off),
* Completely and obviously fucking retarded, but if I don't follow orders I'm getting shot, sorry test pilot (and everyone else involved)!

===Small Arms===
====Rifles and SMGs====
[[File:Karabiner 98k.jpg|300px|thumb|left|Kar 98k: German for "boring, but practical". ]]
* '''''[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkBrh1euWg0 Karabiner 98 kurz]'':''' ("Carbine 1898 short" in German, also called simply ''Gewehr 98'', "rifle of [18]98") The standard German infantry rifle during WWII, from the old Mauser family. It was becoming outdated by the beginning of WWII, given that it was essentially just a shorter version of the venerable Gewehr 98 which armed most German soldiers in WWI. It used 7.92×57mm Mauser ammunition (often shortened to "8mm Mauser"). Probably the least "Nazi equipment" example on this list while also one of the most manufactured, the rifle's strengths were that it was fairly cheap, very accurate, and reliable. But its drawbacks were that it had a slow rate of fire and only a five-round magazine (typical for World War 1 and early and mid WW2 but struggled against late war Garand and SVT, with the Lee-Enfield of the Brits matching it with 10 rounds but a worse bullet). The easiest weapon to compare it to in WWII would be the Soviet Mosin Nagant, which was cheaper to make, though the 98 was much more accurate. It fell short compared to the British SMLE rifle, which had a ten-round magazine and had a good rate of fire for a bolt action, though it has a substantial advantage due to 8mm Mauser being rimless while .303 British is not. Worse yet, the Karabiner 98k also went up against the semi-automatic American M1 Garand (which General Patton had called "the greatest weapon ever devised") which vastly outperformed it in spitting bullets down range. (All of the above are roughly the same range of calibre—.30 [inches] or 7 to 8mm—one which remains in use today by almost every major military as well as many civilian uses, although today's fashion is for smaller calibre, higher velocity rounds for infantry.) Even then, the gun was generally quite well regarded for what it was and there was plenty of them to go around. It was also the go-to weapon for German snipers who affixed a scope to it. The gun is still in production today (albeit with modern style furniture), it is still the German army's drill rifle, some states still use versions of it as a sniper rifle and it's sometimes found in Iraq and other third world nations where it acts as a cheap marksman's rifle. Of course, it's also an excellent hunting rifle in civilian hands. Simply put, the Mauser bolt is the best you can hope for without some bespoke straight pull custom work or just getting a semi-auto.

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUjPeAgvf3U '''''Gewehr 43'']:''' "Rifle 1943". the German army's semi-automatic rifle. This weapon was developed in response to their invasion of the Soviet Union, where the Germans were shocked to find Soviet troops brandishing semi-automatic rifles (primarily the SVT-40), drastically out-gunning their troops in firefights. The result was a fairly decent semi-automatic rifle/carbine chambered for the same rounds as the Kar98k, which derived many of its concepts from, while not being an outright clone of, the SVT-40. The rifle's magazine was detachable (allowing for quick reloads) but still had the option of allowing the shooter to rapidly use stripper clips when reloading (either attaching them directly to the weapon from above, or using them to push several bullets at once into a magazine which attached to the rifle below.) Much like the Kar98k, it worked well as a marksman/sniper's weapon when affixed with a scope. Unfortunately, mechanically it was far from perfect as it was overgassed (not surprising, as the gas pressure that was tapped from the barrel to cycle the semi-automatic action proved to be too strong for the rifle's quite complicated mechanism, especially when made by unskilled workers from lower-quality steel). This resulted in (comparatively) frequent breakdowns and shattered parts, in addition to requiring more maintenance. Copying overmuch from the SVT-40 may have also contributed to this problem, as the 7.62x54mm cartridge in the SVT-40 produces a lower gas pressure than the 7.92x57mm Mauser. For this reason, the G43 wasn't a very popular weapon among German troops, though its firepower was still welcome. The G43 has an interesting legacy that lasts to this day, however. Engineers discovered that, on occasion, the roller lock could fire fully automatic, careful adjustments to the mechanics provided. This discovery lead to the Development of the '''Gerät 06''' or '''StG 45 (M)''' which was the ancestor of the roller-delayed blowback systems used in guns like the MP5 or the G3.

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdQhO8FtY7c '''''Maschinenpistole 38/40'']:''' "Machine pistol 1938/1940", the iconic MP 40 is a slightly updated variant more suitable for mass-production. The most common German submachine gun through the war used mainly by squad leaders and troops fighting in urban areas. It was also the go-to weapon of specialist units like paratroopers and the SS. Uses a 32-round magazine chambered for 9x19mm rounds and typically comes with a folding wire stock. In general pretty good for the time, but only a million of them were produced, compared to the 1.5 million Thompsons, 4 million Stens, and 6 millions PPShes produced by the Americans, British, and Soviets. [[Derp|The primary weapon of the Nazis, according to Hollywood at least, where every single German grunt has one.]] Known for its rather simplistic design; the weapon had only one fire setting (automatic), though its cyclical rate was much lower than equivalent Allied SMGs, allowing aimed single shots at the cost of some room-clearing power. Was a major influence that can still be seen in SMG development. There was also an MP 41, combining the core MP 40 with the proper wooden stock and fire selector of the MP 28. While very popular with the SS patent bullshit got in the way and they had to end production after just under 27,000 guns.

[[File:STG 44.jpg|300px|thumb|right|Few guns end up naming a whole class of weapons. The StG 44 is one of them]]
* [https://www.forgottenweapons.com/evolution-of-the-sturmgewehr-mp431-mp43-mp44-and-stg44/ '''''Sturmgewehr 44'']:''' The "Assault rifle 1944" or '''StG 44''' was the first assault rifle adopted on a large scale. Fun fact - the name was suggested by Hitler and was pure propaganda. Chambered for the new 7.92x33mm Kurz cartridge, it gave a rifleman the power and accuracy of a rifle with the rate of fire of a submachine gun. As its name suggests, it entered the war very late, even though it is only an updated version of the MKB42, which, as the name suggests, came into the war mid-early 1942. In a rare demonstration of common sense, Hitler vetoed its mass deployment early on due to logistics (replacing over 10 million '98k' rifles with a new model that used different ammo couldn't be done overnight, or cheaply), though he approved of the idea and changed his mind later in the war when it became clear a limited impact would be better than none at all. This, combined with the fact that producing the Stg44 required the industry to adapt their tooling, and recurrent shortages of resources later in the war, heavily limited the scale at which they were produced. It was not that difficult to make though, being to Kar98k what the Panther was to the Panzer IV - roughly 120% of resources for superior result. It also had some mechanical issues, including a fragile feed mechanism which could jam if the rifle was knocked over. Anecdote: one of its optional attachments was the ''Krummlauf'', a curved barrel and periscope for firing around corners or from inside a vehicle hatch. Yes, it worked, but the bullets often shattered as they skittered along the curve of the barrel, causing a shotgun-like spread, and the barrels wore out quickly. In any case, the troops who received the regular StG 44 loved them because it gave the firepower of a submachine gun at about three times the effective range—and it was particularly interesting to the Russians, with contest for new "avtomat" design starting in 1943, even before StG 44 entered official mass production. Since they were already winning the war just fine without it, the Soviet Ministry of Defense decided that, instead of taking what they could in 1944, their avtomat designs should be perfected as neither of the prototypes available suited their demands perfectly (especially the one about the same weight as the StG 44 was deemed to be too heavy) - and we all know what the final result was after some bright young Red Army engineer named Mikhail Kalashnikov got his hands on a few. Some StG 44s remained in service in the East German ''Nationale Volksarmee'' until the 1960s.

* '''''Fallschirmjägergewehr 42'':''' "Paratrooper rifle 1942". If a Kar98k and a MG42 could have a baby together, this battle rifle would be it. Created in limited numbers for the exclusive use of German paratroopers. The high-ups realized that the Kar98k was too long for paratroopers, and the MP40 wasn't suitable outside of urban combat, so they wanted something that handled like a carbine but could fire like a machine gun. Beyond that, Hermann Goering wanted his Luftwaffe airborne troops to have something a cut above what the regular Heer grunts got in order to fortify his personal fiefdom in the Reich. The FG 42 was designed as a shorter, automatic battle rifle to give paratroopers superior firepower, using a side-loading box magazine. Its high recoil made automatic fire inadvisable, as with later automatic high-caliber battle rifles such as the US M14. While it never really took off, it was quite the solid design, and is notable for influencing the design of the American M60 machine gun after the war.

*'''''[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=knPDsJyCpjI Kriegsmodell]''''': as the war dragged on and as the Germans got their fascist asses kicked across Europe, and their factories and homes were being leveled by Allied bombers, the Germans started to try and make their equipment faster and cheaper. They started at first with small changes here and there, but by the end of the war they were cutting corners like it was crunch time at the Circle factory.
**'''''Volkssturmgewehr''''': Literal garbage guns made from parts of broken or defective weapons, surplus barrels and wood that barely deserves to be called so. Part of the vain efforts to make the Volkssturm units into anything resembling an organized fighting force and to make a quick and extremely cheap produced gun to defend what was left of Germany by 1945 and like the German war effort, utterly failed due to being too complicated. Yeah, the last ditch weapons that look like an Ork Mek would think they are too crude for his taste use in fact a fairly elaborate mechanism that put their price tag slightly above that of an StG 44. There are two main types of rifle when people refer to the Volksturmgewehr; a bolt-action rifle that uses the same magazines as the Gewehr 43, and a semi-automatic rifle that uses StG44 magazines.

*'''''MP-3008''''': Literally a British Sten gun with the magazine rotated 90 degrees. The Sten was designed early in the war to be as cheap and easy to make as possible so that they could be widely distributed in case of a German invasion of Britain. The Germans captured a few of them over the course of the war, and when they found themselves facing invasion, the Germans decided to copy the damn thing late in the war as a desperation measure. A few thousand of them were made before the Nazi regime died.

* [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zielgerät_1229 '''Zielgerät "Vampir"''']: Night vision rifle. Produced too little and too late. Per the usual Nazi gimmicks, they were quite capable and powerful, but there just weren't enough of them because the industrial base was blown to shit and time wasn't on their side. Briefly caused distress to the Soviets.

====Pistols====

[[File:Lugar Pistol.jpg|300px|thumb|left|The quintessential Bad Guy pistol]]

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIX1EL1hTmE '''''Pistole Parabellum 1908'']:''' "Pistol Parabellum 1908". The Nazis used a bunch of pistols in truth, but none are as iconic of the Third Reich as the P08 Luger with its joint armed breech. It could load an eight-round box magazine or a thirty-two-round drum. The 9x19mm Parabellum cartridge was initially designed for this pistol and is still one of the most common pistol calibers in the world. It was eventually phased out in favor of the P38, as the Luger was too expensive to manufacture for the entire German army, although it was still available for the troops and officers who could afford it. The Luger was also somewhat unique at the time in that it could still double as a pistol carbine by affixing a stock and a 32-round drum-magazine to it, when carbine-convertible pistols had started falling out of fashion years before. The exotic toggle-lock mechanism of the gun meant it had shitty reliability in field conditions, but the gun was made at a time when sidearms were typically issued to specialists, officers, and policemen, who were typically away from conditions that could foul up the gun. WWII-vintage Lugers go for several thousand dollars as collectibles today.

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXAMma6mUq8 '''Walther ''Pistole 38'']:''' "Walther Pistol 1938". The Walther P38 replaced the Luger P08 as the Wehrmacht's service pistol just before World War II, due to it being cheaper to produce. It loaded a 9x19mm eight-round detachable box magazine. Nerds will recognize this as G1 Megatron's alt-mode, and attentive [[James Bond]] fans will recall it seeing some use in ''Goldfinger''. MUCH more common than the Luger despite what Hollywood would tell you, and a decent pistol, if a bit annoying due to its hard-to-pull trigger. The Italians cloned its internals in the M1951, meaning the Beretta 92 is the P38's grandchild.

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vkU3CIPdMk '''Mauser ''Construktion 96'']:''' "Construction 1896". Popularly known as the "Boxcannon" (by the Chinese) and "Broomhandle" (by most everyone else); it loaded ten rounds from a stripper clip into an internal magazine, although there was also an option for a 20-round magazine that had the added bonus of the entire magazine being detachable instead of being built-into the weapon. The C96 was typically chambered for either the newer 9x19mm or the original 7.63x25mm rounds (which were so high velocity for a pistol cartridge of the time that they were only surpassed with the later development of the .357 Magnum). The C96 was not typically issued to the main German army during WWII; only the Luftwaffe were known users of the weapon during the war, as sidearms for their pilots. It was also one of the first and most iconic of the pistol carbine designs, innovating the wooden holster that could double as a detachable stock, making it (and Spanish and Chinese knockoffs) extremely popular in areas like China where proper longarms might be either too expensive or banned from import. However, by the 30s and 40s, this feature had fallen out of fashion in the West and wasn't included in newer production models, with only a few being modified to restore the functionality. Nerds will recognize this as Han Solo's DL-44 blaster pistol from the original ''Star Wars'' trilogy, with some gubbins glued to it to make it more sci-fi.

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4COZpIw9UMI '''Walther Polizeipistole/Polizeipistole Kurz''']: "Police Pistol/Police Pistol short". You know this one. It's the gun made popular by Ian Fleming and [[James Bond]]. The Walther PP is a compact pistol that was typically issued to German police units (Kripo, Gestapo, Gefepo and Feldgendarmerie), but also as a sidearm to military officers and [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Rz-jKH_V04 senior party members]. The PPK variant was an even smaller version of the PP, designed for concealed carry in mind (in fact it was so small that it can typically fit into the sleeves of most longcoats, making it useful for infiltrators). It could come chambered for either 7.65mm (.32 ACP to Americans) or 9x17mm (.380 Auto) rounds. The Cold War-era Soviet Makarov pistol would largely be based on the PP pistols, though it was chambered in a slightly more powerful cartridge known as 9x18 or 9mm Makarov (which is actually thicker than the now ubiquitous 9x17/9mm Parabellum, since Soviets measured width from a different part of the cartridge). The PPK and its cheaper clones (such as the Bersa Thunder, in .380 ACP or 9mm Kurz "Short") are readily available today and basically never stopped production. If you're looking to buy one in the states, be aware that there have been several license holders: Interarms (1978-1999, truest to the original design), S&W (2002-on, have had some recalls over serious defects), and Black Creek (1999-2001, very limited numbers).

====Machine Guns====

* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfJkU4Sah8I '''''Maschinengewehr 42'']:''' "Machine gun 1942". German infantry tactics during WWII were built around the machine gun and, as such, the Germans developed an exceptional machine gun in the MG 42 (basically an improved but functionally identical version of the earlier MG 34). It was lightweight (11.7 kg), belt fed (unlike the magazine fed LMGs it was usually pitted against), and it could nominally fire 1,200 rounds per minute (although, in practice, it was actually even faster) while most other machine guns could barely reach 600. That much [[dakka]] causes a lot of heat, so the gun was designed for easy swapping of barrels; although even with the barrels being regularly changed it was not uncommon for these guns to fire so fast that a cartridge would ignite before being fully loaded, completely breaking the gun and potentially injuring the gun's crew. Its terrifying rate of fire and distinctive report earned it the nickname "Hitler's Buzzsaw". The core idea of the MG42 was the universal machine gun; that is, the German army wouldn't have light, medium, heavy, or antiair, machine guns, but a single weapon that could do it all. That stupidly high rate of fire was designed to let it throw enough lead at enemy aircraft to be sure it hit something, the quick change barrels let it maintain that stupidly high RoF without being water cooled, and it was light enough to be man-portable, so it could be toted around by infantry squads and used as a SAW. The MG 42 was the basis for numerous other weapons throughout the Cold War (and is still in use by NATO forces today as the MG3, the only real changes were switching it to NATO-standard caliber and reducing the firing rate to actually be 1200 rounds per minute, as opposed to the 1500 rpm of the original MG42). The MG3 is still widely exported and its production licensed to NATO and allies. A ''double barrel'' variant of the MG3 was also produced as a ''low cost Minigun alternative''.

* '''''Maschinengewehr 34'':''' The predecessor to the MG 42, it was still in wide use at the start of the war. It had a lower, more controllable rate of fire of around 800-900 RPM, and had a single-shot mode that was removed in the MG 42. Its production went on parallel to the MG 42 because its swing-down barrel-swap method was more compatible with vehicle ball mounts than MG 42's slide-open method, so all MGs seen on German tanks even late in the war were still MG 34's.

*'''''Maschinengewehr 15''''': A progenitor to the MG34 that was designed mainly as a turret gun for aircraft. As such, it had two primary differences; the gun had no stock to allow for extra space inside aircraft, and it fed from a top-mounted 75 round saddle drum. Otherwise it had the same absurdly high rate of fire. As the war progressed, MG15s started being taken out of aircraft as machineguns were becoming less effective against high speed aircraft, and were repurposed as ground infantry guns by adding on a stock and bipod or tripod.

*'''''Maschinengewehr 08/15''''': A mid-WWI improvement on the regular MG 08 of the Imperial German army. It was developed as an answer to the problem of assaulting positions without direct support from automatic weapons, since the standard MG 08 was too heavy to carry around. The result saw the mounting of the MG 08 being replaced by a bipod and the coolant jacket being reduced in size and volume, bringing down its weight from almost 40 kilos down to a more comfortable 20, and the addition of a shoulder stock also made it possible to use it like a more modern LMG. By modern standards, still way too heavy to reliably use it in that particular role, but it worked well enough for the Germans that they continued to improve on it, leading to a (and due to the end of WWI ultimately ineffective), fully air-cooled version of the LMG 08/18, which did away with water cooling entirely, reducing its weight to 16 kilos, actually making it comparable to guns like the Lewis gun (Also the reason why drum-fed LMGs never caught on in the German military, as Germany was forbidden from developing new automatic weapons by the Treaty of Versailles). The 08/15 remained the standard MG for the Reichswehr and even the early Wehrmacht. Loads of them remained in stockpiles well into the war, where they were issued to rear and police units for what the Nazis called "anti-partisan action", with reports of the weapons being used tracking all the way into late 1941 and 1942. Fun fact: The gun was so ubiquotous and regular training tasks on it so tedious, that the word "nullachtfünfzehn" (Zero-Eight-Fifteen) entered the German language as a derogatory term for something mediocre, uninspired and boring.

====Anti-Tank Infantry Weapons====

* '''''Hafthohlladung'':''' In English, "Attachable Shaped Charge" (get used to this very literal naming scheme, it continues below). Very soon into the war, the Germans realized they would never have enough tanks and antitank guns to go around, so they developed weapons that would allow an infantryman to (in theory, at least) deal with a tank. The Hafthohlladung was such an early attempt. A big AT grenade with three magnets that allowed it to stick to any metallic surface, it would make a nice hole into any tank it was attached to... Which makes the weapon's main drawback immediately clear: [[Tankbustas|running up to an operational tank to slap a bomb on its side wasn't exactly safe]]. In theory, you could also try to [[Genestealer#Genestealer_Cults|wait and hide in ambush]] for the tank to pass close by since visibility from inside a tank wasn't that great, but that would require being able to anticipate the path of the tank (without accidentally getting run over), and tanks were often supported by infantry anyway. At the very least, they were less suicidal than the Japanese "lunge mine." (A mine on a stick to be used [[Tankbustas]]-style) The Hafthohlladung wasn't really a successful weapon and saw only limited use, but it paved the way for the next item on the list:

* '''''Panzerfaust'':''' "Armor fist", or, more literally, "tank fist". A disposable one-shot anti-armor weapon for use against tanks and entrenched positions. Really cheap to produce, lightweight, and able to do a lot of damage to tanks at close range (maximum range being at most 150 meters for the later models). And it was really easy to use: hold in crook of the arm, flip a switch up that becomes an iron sight (and also arms the weapon), aim, squeeze the firing lever, and enjoy the fireworks. The basic idea of how they were used was to give one guy in every squad (or more) one of them so that if a tank ever did get close, there was a chance they'd be able to take it out or do some damage. This, among other things, made Allied generals wary about sending tanks to clear out German infantry forces, especially among the ambush-friendly hedgerows of Normandy. That said, Panzerfausts were useless for trying to snipe at tanks from a distance (with an effective range of about 60m of the most produced versions) and could not be reloaded with another rocket, preventing most troops from carrying more than one shot on their person. In the last days of the war, the Nazis gave these to grannies and kids on the off-chance that they could destroy an Allied tank when they rolled into town. In fact, it was so cheap to produce that every member of the late-war Volkssturm was generally issued one, while every third person was lucky enough to be issued a rifle. Looked like a fist in a tube, hence the name. Its general design was later copied by the Russians, eventually used in the RPG-2 and RPG-7 rocket launchers. The concept of the Panzerfaust is still very much alive in the form of many light anti-tank weapons (M72, AT4, MATADOR,...) in use today.

* '''''Panzerschreck'':''' "Armor terror", or "tank fright". A reusable anti-tank rocket launcher based off captured American bazookas, and you can almost imagine the Nazi scientist getting one and saying "[[Ork|Bigga is Betta!]]"! (Although the actual reaction was probably also: "VHY DIDN'T VE ZHINK OF ZHAT!!!", see next item on the list.) The Panzerschreck was larger than the bazooka, with an 88mm muzzle size (where the first bazooka was only 60mm)—in fact, it is still larger than most rocket launchers and mortars in use today. Like the bazooka, but unlike the Panzerfaust, it could be reloaded, and had a longer range than the 'Faust bar the latest version. The Panzerschreck has a distinctive steel blast shield in front, which has to do with the larger rocket blowing hot exhaust into the users face. Early models without the shield ended up requiring the operator to wear a gasmask and protective poncho (which must have sucked for the first person to test it, before they figured that out). The Panzerschreck was more useful as an offensive weapon than the Panzerfaust, since it was capable of easily penetrating the armor of any tank they faced (and at better ranges) thanks to the bigger rocket. But on the other hand, it was very much a temperamental weapon that required trained operators, so its use was restricted to dedicated tank hunter teams (unlike the Panzerfaust, which was simple enough that a 10-year old kid could handle it).

*'''''Sturmpistole'':''' An early attempt at making a lightweight antitank weapon, the Sturmpistole was little more than a modified flare gun equipped with a stock and sighting system, and fired oversized warheads out of the muzzle like the Panzerfaust. Unlike the Panzerfaust, it didn't see much success due to the small size of the warhead.

*'''''Raketenwerfer 43'':''' By the time Germany [[Blood Ravens|acquired]] the bazooka and refined it into the Panzerschreck, they had their own version of a rocket-firing antitank weapon: the Raketenwerfer 43 a.k.a. the "Puppchen" or "Little Doll". Why such a weird nickname? Because it was, for all intents and purposes, a miniature artillery piece: wheeled and towed and working from a a closed breech exactly like the rest of the German field guns and howitzers (except it fired rockets). Despite its better range and accuracy it was more expensive and harder to make then the Panzerschreck or the bazooka, so not nearly as many of them were made compared to the 'schrecks.

*'''''Panzerwerfmine'':''' "Mine to be thrown at tanks" (don't say we didn't warn you about the names). Another attempt at allowing infantrymen to deal with a tank, this is basically a shaped charge with deployable stabilizing cloth fins that was thrown overhand to land on the top a tank and blow a nice, big hole through it. Cheap to produce and very efficient, but it required lots of practice to use, so it was only given to trained "[[Tankbustas|tank-hunter]]" teams. The Russians captured some of those, were duly impressed, and promptly refined the German concept into their own "RPG-6" antitank hand grenade that was just as cheap and efficient but way easier to use, and so good it was still part of their arsenal when the Soviet Union fell and can still be found all over the world in relatively low-intensity conflicts. Sure, it won't kill a modern tank, but it sure as hell will kill third-world militiamen in up-gunned Toyotas.

*'''Various antitank rifles''': Germany utilized a lot of antitank rifles at the very beginning of the war, just like every other major power at the time did, and just like their counterparts, they became obsolete really, really quickly, with only the USSR really committing to their use throughout the entirety of the war. Here are some of the antitank rifles the Germans used.
**'''''Tankgewehr M1918''''': The daddy of the antitank rifle and, in a sense, most anti-materiel rifles to this day. Developed near the end of WWI by the German Empire in search of an reliable alternative to light or medium field guns in the role of antitank weaponry, it was essentially a Mauser Gewehr 98 on steroids firing a massive 13mm round that could penetrate up 20 millimeters of armour at ranges of 100 meters and below. It needed a lot of training to make it work right; the recoil was reported to be strong enough to dislocate a man's shoulder if used incorrectly and even if done right, the marksman would become nauseous after just 2 or 3 shots at maximum. To put it in perspective, imagine firing a gun whose recoil feels like a seasoned boxer just hit you in the nuts. The Wehrmacht used some of them that were still lying around in arsenals all over Germany and some they took from the Polish army.
**'''''Panzerbüchse 39''''': Or "Tank Rifle Model 39". Whereas other nations like the British and the Soviets tried to improve their antitank rifles by using larger calibers with bigger powder charges (the British used a .55 cartridge, the Soviets 14.5x114mm), the Germans actually made their bullets smaller, using a 7.92mmx94 cartridge. The idea was basically to increase the kinetic force of the bullet through speed instead of mass, and it sorta worked. The PzB 39 was comparable to most other antitank rifles of the time. Its shortcomings mainly came from (as is tradition) overengineering; the PzB 39 was a breech-loading rifle (like an artillery gun) and the action was expensive and labour-intensive to produce. Additionally, unlike most of its contemporaries and even some of the other antitank rifles the Germans used, it was single shot only (the Brits' antitank rifle had a 5 round magazine, as did the Soviet PTRS-41). The rifle proved barely effective already in Poland and France and was subsequently either phased out or converted into grenade launchers.
**'''''Panzerbüchse SS41''''': An insanely complicated, impractical marvel of engineering developed specifically for SS troops. The need for alternative weapons for the Waffen-SS divisions arose when Himmler wanted to use the SS alongside the Heer, the regular German Army; however the Heer's generals were understandably not thrilled about the idea of a paramilitary force loyal only to the Nazi party, so they did some political lobbying that led to the Wehrmacht keeping its monopoly on all weapons produced by the German arms industry. This was a privilege the SS didn't have, so Himmler sourced weapons from all over Europe and took whatever he could get his filthy hands on (In spite of what /pol/lacks and Wehraboos might tell you, most SS units outside the first few panzer divisions were poorly equipped and used a huge variety of surplus or obsolete rifles, submachine guns and looted guns). The SS41 differs in this regard as it was developed in secret specifically for the SS in Czechia from prototypes the Czechs developed on their own before their annexation into the Greater German Reich. Cycling this monstrous contraption requires the soldier operating it to slide the entire forward assembly forwards and backwards, a process that looks as awesome as it was tedious. Speaking of looks, this gun really is a beauty, and a bullpup design on top of that. Gotta hand it to the Czechs. It fired the same 7.92x94mm cartridge the PzB 39 used, so it's fair to say that it didn't take long to become obsolete and surviving examples are exceedingly rare.
**'''''Solothurn S18/1000''''': A ludicrously massive gun more akin to a cannon than anything else. Developed as part of the German schemes to gain access to modern firearms in spite of the conditions of the Treaty of Versailles. It was in fact so large that the Swiss put wheels on it and called it a cannon. It fired a FUCKHUEG 20mm round and needed 3 men to operate and carry it and built the basis of nearly all automatic cannons the German military developed and used through out the war.

====Misc====

* [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M30_Luftwaffe_drilling '''''M30 Luftwaffe Drilling'']:''' The Germans had never been too keen on combat shotguns for various reasons (during WWI Kaiser Wilhelm was famously mocked for his protests that the American use of pump-action shotguns constituted a war crime), but the emergent Luftwaffe air force saw the need for equipping their pilots with survival weapons in the event that they were shot down far from friendly forces and needed to hunt or defend themselves. They decided on a drilling combination gun (a double-barreled shotgun with a single-shot rifle barrel) as the ideal solution. However, Hermann Goering was a fucking idiot who had a propensity for being vain and flashy instead of practical, so he chose the fancy high-end hunting rifles that aristocrats would purchase instead of putting out an order for [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M6_Aircrew_Survival_Weapon cheap, mass-produced weapons that would get the job done] at a fraction of the cost. As a result, the few surviving M30 drillings are extremely collectible and valuable.

*'''''[[Looted|Captured Weapons]]''''': Due to necessity and practicality, German troops also commonly used enemy equipment from all sides, predominantly Soviet weapons captured during the first stage of the invasion of Russia, as well as the vast stores of equipment the Brits left behind at Dunkirk. To ease supply concerns, some of these weapons were converted to use standard German ammunition, like the PPSh-41 submachine gun (which was converted from 7.62x25mm to 9x19mm), while others actually had new Soviet-style ammunition made for them in converted factories. Besides equipment captured from the enemy, the Germans also made use of equipment produced by countries under their occupation, including France, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Poland, etc.

*Camouflage pattern battledress for infantrymen. Well, okay, the Italians came up with the idea in the 1920s, but it was the Germans who refined it, mass-produced it and issued it on a large scale. They also came up with the idea for reversible camo, with one side tailored for spring/summer and the other for autumn. Hilariously enough, several of these camo patterns, including the iconic dotted pattern, were patented for the Waffen-SS, meaning that the Heer couldn't use them. This is another example of Nazi Germany getting in its own way with inane bureaucratic bullshit.

*'''''Fliegerfaust''''': The very first MANPAD ever developed to be used against airplanes. Originally an offshoot of the Panzerschreck development program, the Fliegerfaust was supposed to offer decent firepower against low-altitude CAS aircraft for the lowly infantryman. In essence, it worked like an 8-barreled Panzerschreck, where the closing of an electric circuit fired a bundle of small, 2-cm charges up to 300 meters into the air like a shotgun, causing a small cloud of explosions and shrapnel to envelop the target for a brief amount of time. It was never used in any capacity whatsoever, as it was very late to arrive to the party (development started in mid-1944, with serial production planned to begin in March 1945). Only about 80 prototypes from field trials were captured by the end of the war by the allies and influenced modern MANPADS like the FIM-92 Stinger to a great degree.

===Artillery Pieces and Antitank Guns===

*'''''Granatwerfer 36''''': Leave it to the Germans to overengineer a simple tube that spits out explosives. This little critter was supposed to serve as light, indirect fire support on the squad level, with a bunch of gizmos tacked onto it that made aiming with it a hell of a lot easier - too bad the small caliber (5 cm) limited its range and effectiveness in its intended role. Production was terminated in 1941, the reason given that the thing was too complex and too heavy. In hindsight it's a real headscratcher as to why the High Command didn't come to this conclusion sooner (especially since the thing offered no significant advantage over rifle grenades), although it remained in use throughout the rest of the war.
*'''''Leichtes Infantriegeschütz 18''''': The LeIG 18 was an evolution of the proven and reliable "Leichter Minenwerfer 18", the German answer to the Stokes Mortar that the British used. It was meant to be a light field artillery piece designed to take out targets that were too insignificant to justify a full artillery barrage or tank assault, but too strongly defended or entrenched for an infantry assault alone. Think isolated pillboxes or MG nests holding a minor strongpoint. The odd naming stems from the conditions of the Treaty of Versailles, to give the Reichswehr plausible deniability for any curious Allied noses poking into German arms research.
*'''''8 cm Granatwerfer 34''''': A carbon copy of the Stokes Mortar. Yes, really.
*'''''15 cm Schweres Infanterie Geschütz 33''''': The largest gun that any given infantry battalion had on offer. Fired 38 kilograms of explosives over considerable distances, and also served as the main armament of the Sturmpanzer IV.
*'''''Leichte Feldhaubitze (LeFH) 18''''': Another oddly named design, this 'Light Field Howitzer' was the most common field gun of the German army. Efficient enough early in the war thanks to its 105mm caliber, it was eventually held back by considerable downsides that became apparent too late (too heavy, too difficult to move around and rather short range of around 10 km). When it became clear that the LeFH 18 really couldn't compare with Allied artillery pieces (like the Soviet 152 mm ML-20 and American M114 155mm howitzers which delivered heavier payloads, or the British QF 25-Pounder, which fired much quicker), various improvements over the course of the war were attempted to keep it relevant. But ultimately it was outdated by 1941, and never could close the gap again.
*'''''3,7-cm PaK 36''''': Probably the most advanced antitank gun in the interwar period, but it often gets a bad rep due to the accounts of German soldiers who had to fire the thing at Churchills, T-34s and other more modern tanks, earning it the moniker "Heeresanklopfkanone", or "The Heer's (German armed forces) door knocking cannon". Its advantages were its very light weight and the perfected design of its mounting, making it very easy to transport and move. Seeing how much the German army invested in this gun before the war (over 9000 being built when the war started and an additional 5500 until 1941) they tried their damndest to keep the thing relevant even when it was very clear it could no longer keep up. Still, a remarkable and groundbreaking design for the early thirties, with 6000 being sold abroad and Japan, the USSR and even the United States outright copying the design with few modifications.
*'''''5 cm PaK 38''''': Practically identical to the 50mm gun of the Panzer III. The PaK 38's bigger, beefier brother, intended to fight off bigger tanks the light 3.7 cm couldn't handle, with very mediocre results. That is, until the Germans made APCR for them in 1942, at which point they accounted for most [[T-34]]s and [[KV]]s losses of the time. However, those APCR required tungsten, and Third Reich didn't have much of it, sooo...
*[[PaK-40_Anti-Tank_Gun|'''''7.5-cm PaK 40''''']]: ...this masterpiece was made. The first design that came onto the scene with WWII in mind. Introduced in 1942, it was very effective design that in the latter half of the war ultimately became the Germans' most used antitank gun. It retained its relevance all the way to 1945, with Soviets and Brits making heavy tanks that could comfortably take it out only in 1944, and even then those weren't impervious. With its' high penetration and low profile, the only problem the PaK-40 had was the ungodly kick that literally dug holes in the ground after every shot, making it difficult to reposition if it was outflanked. Modified versions became the main armament of a lot of German tanks and tank destroyers, the most notable of which were the Panther and the Jagdpanzer IV.
*'''''8 cm PAW 600''''': Hilariously obscure as far as this list goes, the ''Panzerabwehrwerfer 600''/8H63 was developed as the war progressed and Germany was finding its anti-tank weapons either too immobile to adapt to battlefield conditions or too short-ranged to properly handle a regiment's antitank defense in full with its Panzerschrecks. Thus, the PAW 600 was designed to be lighter than other antitank guns by the use of [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High–low_system the high-low system] leading to a smoothbore gun that fired high explosive anti-tank rounds. The design was even atypically made with consideration for logistics by basing its rounds off of the Granatwerfer 34 to make continued use of existing manufacturing tooling, and it theoretically could have fired any other ammunition that would go into a Granatwerfer 34 (such as high-explosive or smoke rounds) which would have been noteworthy at the time antitankguns firing high-explosive rounds really didn't do much since not much explosive filler fit into the thick walls of high-velocity rounds...but as mentioned, the thing was hilariously obscure and only 260 of them ever got built, so accounts of them actually having been used at all is very sparse - there is only a statement from a major in 15th/19th The King's Royal Hussars that they were used against the regiment near the River Aller on April 14th, 1945 to provide some evidence that the weapon had any effect on a battle in the war at all.
*[[PaK-43|'''''8.8-cm PaK 43''''']]: A modified version of the infamous 8.8-cm Flak gun, stripped down to its essentials and with a longer barrel, wheeled carriage and gun shield. Other than that, they're basically identical.
*'''''12,8-cm PaK 44''''': The biggest, baddest antitank either side devised during the war. One could argue that it was probably overkill, as it was so impractical and heavy that any use outside of fortified positions would be pointless. Given that the gun was designed when the war effort started to really go south and Germany found itself in a defensive war, this was probably a negligible downside, but then again, it didn't really seem to make any difference in the end. Some were used as part of the Siegfried Line and the defense of Berlin, but they were very rare and the only examples that remain today are the ones mounted on the surviving Jagdtigers and the lone surviving Maus.

===Vehicles===
====Tanks====
German tanks were in general well designed, but in hindsight were overengineered and prone to breakdowns in the field. For example, take their ''Schachtellaufwerk'' (interleaved wheel system for the tracks). The idea was: more roadwheels = weight distributed more evenly over track = less ground pressure = less bogging down and/or a higher maximum load. It was also supposed to lessen tank shaking and allow the panzers to fire (relatively) accurately on the move. Great idea on paper, and a pretty good one when testing prototypes at home... but an absolute hell on the Eastern front, where the almost supernaturally awful mud (caused by the spring thaw, or ''rasputitsa'') infiltrated between the wheels before freezing and breaking everything. Cue hour after hour of work for the maintenance teams, removing the track and wheels for cleaning before mounting them again [[FAIL|each and every time the goddamn tank sortied]], where a more traditional slack-track system would have required much less cleaning, [[Fail|and it didn't even work]] post war testing showed no real advantage, hence why no tank in the post war period used a similar system. And those were just added on top of the already quite large list of ''traditional'' mechanical breakdowns that plagued any and all vehicle pool of the epoch...

Another big weak point in the German Panzerwaffe was the lack of standardization between individual tank models. The Allies more or less made all the variations of their tanks (which were standardized for every company and factory making them) from existing models and fitted them with weapons they deemed appropriate for the task at hand([[Leman Russ (tank)|just like the Leman Russ, in fact]]), which eased supply and maintenance, whereas the Germans designed entirely new vehicles for every purpose and spread them across multiple manufacturers, each with their own specifications, tooling and production lines. In practice, this meant that parts between German vehicle types were mostly incompatible with each other; i.e. a gear made for a Panzer IV "A" could not go into a Panzer IV "J", compared to T-34s being basically entirely interchangeable. It quickly became a logistical nightmare to keep all the tank units in the field sufficiently supplied with spare parts or even fuel (the Germans never could make their minds up if they preferred gasoline or diesel). That's not to say that they didn't know or realize this (thoughts in this direction lead into the E-Series of design studies, planned to be a series of tank models that more or less shared all parts with each other except armament and chassis) but by 1944 Germany lacked the industrial capacity and resources to switch to a more economical model of production. Furthermore, the German model of tank production didn't help too; all of the German tanks were hand-crafted, using expensive and elaborate methods with strict tolerances to produce the best results possible, which becomes positively idiotic when you compare the results to the colossal production runs of the T-34 and the Sherman. As an example: the most produced German tank of the period was the Panzer IV, with 8,553 produced from 1937 to 1945. The Soviets, meanwhile, built ''over 57,000'' T-34s from 1940-1945. In 1943, they were cranking out 1,300 of the damn things a month, compared to Germany's puny monthly average of 252 Panzer IVs. The T-34 wasn't perfect, but it was good enough, and "good enough" is really all you need when you have 57,000 to your opponent's 8,550. Moreover, while the Germans kept tinkering with and refining the IV's design, the Soviets ignored any modification that would slow production and focused on finding ways to build T-34s as quickly and cheaply as possible. The "5 to 1 ratio" of Allied vs German tanks is as much the result of the modus operandi of the German war industry as it is of failed planning, overly complicated designs, fascist inefficiency, a whole lot of nepotism and corruption and having the SHIT bombed out of them.

In the end, the true selling point of the ''Panzerwaffe'' was not the tanks themselves, but the way in which they were used, the men manning them, the mechanics supporting them, and the radios installed in every tank that allowed for a level of coordination between armor, infantry, and artillery never before seen (all of which formed the core of ''Blitzkrieg'' tactics). This, along with some powerful late-war designs, occasionally gave German tanks an edge over Allied tanks until production problems, stability issues and most of all fuel shortages became overwhelming.

German tanks are called "''Panzer''", which when directly translated means "''armor''", and more specifically is the shortened version of "''Panzerkampfwagen''" (Armored Fighting Vehicle). The name is often abbreviated to just "PzKpfw" or even "Pz". The habit of naming tanks, airplanes and other pieces of equipment after animals, mostly predators, was introduced after a suggestion by Goebbels in 1944 to increase the propagandistic value of the vehicles. This is why earlier vehicles have none of these names and were named "at face value". At no point in time did these nicknames show up in official records of the Wehrmacht aside from anecdotal mentions in field reports. The official records of the Heereswaffenamt (Army armory office) used the ''Sonderkraftfahrzeug'' ("Special purpose vehicle", Sd.Kfz. in short) system of designations instead.
* '''Panzer I:''' Designed and produced in defiance of the Treaty of Versailles, the ''Panzerkampfwagen I'' was the first Nazi tank. It was small, weighing only 5.4 tonnes, and was armed only with two MG-13 machine guns. Some 1,493 were made, and were most notable in that they allowed the Heer to start training tank crews, and (after being sent to Spain) allowed tank doctrines be developed that the Nazis would use to steamroll Poland and France. They saw some use at the beginning of WWII, but were pretty soon deemed to be out of date even for scouting missions. Until they were deemed totally obsolete, they were continuously upgraded and specialized, and had several variants including a potential recon paratrooper-tank. Primary Nazi tank of the Condor Legion in the Spanish Civil War. [[File:Panzer I.PNG|thumb|right|300px|Mein Herr! Can't ve get somezing better zan zis Panzer I?]] As with a lot of Nazi tanks that became obsolete, the old PzKpfw I's were sometimes stripped to the chassis and repurposed for things such as artillery and tank destroyer roles, though this was relatively rare. It should also be noted the Panzer I is the textbook example of a tankette rather then a full tank, though since early WWII would define the important strategic difference of tankettes vs tanks it's not surprising it became the primary armoured vehicle before the war.
* [[Panzer_II|'''Panzer II:''']] The ''Panzerkampfwagen II'' was designed using the experience gained in the Spanish Civil War. Heavier than the Panzer I at 8.9 tonnes, it was designed as a stopgap, as the Panzer III and IV were experiencing delays in production. It was armed with a dinky automatic 20mm cannon that was little better than an antitank rifle. Common during the early war, it was made obsolete by the arrival of the Panzer III and IV, and relegated to reconnaissance duties, training, or conversion into open-topped tank destroyers. Much like its younger brother, it too was pushed through several variants; however, instead of trying to upgrade it to keep it frontline-capable, it was turned into a better scout tank so that the Panzer III could take over the role of frontline tank. Primary Nazi tank for the invasions of Poland and France.
** '''Panzer II Ausf. L "Luchs"''': The final version of the Panzer II, with a redesigned turret housing the same 20mm autocannon in a new turret and a modified chassis. Speedy little bugger (it could reach up to 60 kph under optimal conditions) that served as a scouting verhicle for the tank divisions, with 100 being built.
* [[Panzer_III|'''Panzer III:''']] One of the two main German tanks of the war, the ''Panzerkampfwagen III'' was about when Germany really got the hang of this whole tank design thing. Introduced in 1939, it weighed 23 tonnes, carried a 37mm anti tank gun, and notably had a turret big enough for three guys (which is actually more important than you might think, as it allows the crew to share the workload, e.g., the loader's only task is to load the gun with the correct ammo as fast as possible, the gunner focuses on aiming and firing the gun, while the commander can retain situational awareness and, well, give orders). Contemporary tanks, most notably the T-34, often had two or even one-man turrets, forcing the crew to share responsibilities and lowering their combat efficiency; the Germans themselves noted that a good panzer crew could get off three shots in the time it took a T-34 crew to fire one. The Panzer III was designed from the ground up to engage enemy tanks, rather than the infantry and light vehicles of earlier models. In Poland, France, and North Africa it did well, even though some French vehicles still outgunned them. Against Soviet T-34s, however, it was completely insufficient, unless upgraded to a 50mm gun and firing APDS. Thankfully, unlike the French and Russians, the Panzer IIIs were all equipped with radios, allowing them to outmaneuver the better tanks. Production stopped in 1942, but since they had built 5,774 of them, they stayed in service until the end of the war. The chassis was used to produce the StuG assault cannon (although "Geschütz" is hard to translate to English: it's neither a mere gun, nor a cannon, being more of a tank destroyer, i.e., a "sniper"-style tank), which would be the most widely produced German vehicle of the war, clocking in at 10,086 units. Ultimately, the III switched roles with the Panzer IV to become the infantry support tank with a short barrelled howitzer, though this was soon also replaced with a dual-purpose gun. Primary Nazi tank for the invasion of the Soviet Union.
* [[Panzer_IV|'''Panzer IV:''']] Ultimately the most common German tank, with 8,553 units being built over the course of the war (now compare those numbers with the nearly 50,000 Shermans and 57,000 T-34s that the freeaboos and commies built), the ''Panzerkampfwagen IV'' was the Panzer III's big brother. The Panzer IV was originally intended to be used against infantry and was armed with a low-velocity 75mm gun for blowing stuff up with explosive shells. After the invasion of Russia they switched to a 50mm anti-tank gun, and later a 75mm high-velocity cannon while also being up-armored to the absolute weight limit of the chassis. After that upgrade, it was generally on par with the T-34 and M4 Sherman (on average, at least — they had a less powerful engine, but better optics). Unlike early Soviet tanks, every Panzer IV generally had a working radio receiver. Its chassis became the foundation of many German vehicles of all classifications. Primary Nazi tank from 1942 to the end of the war in 1945.
* [[Panther|'''Panzer V Panther:''']] The Panther was introduced in 1943, and [[Skub|to this day history nerds, Wehraboos, Russaboos, and rivetheads are still arguing whether it or the T-34 was the best tank of the war]]. It copied many features of the T-34 and improved on them. It was listed as a "medium tank," despite weighing in at 44.8 tonnes (due to the Germans labeling tank classes with the intended use in mind, not weight). Its 75mm/L70 gun was one of the most powerful tank guns of the war, and could destroy any Allied tank. Quite mobile for its weight, its frontal armor was more effective than that of the Tiger's thanks to sloping. It truly was a swift and hard as nails death machine... when it was in working order, that is. The Panther was rushed into service so that it would be online in time for the Kursk offensive and had even more mechanical problems than the Tiger did due to its rushed design. The transmission, for example, broke down on average after just 250 kilometers (that's 155 miles for you Yanks), leading to a lot of abandoned tanks, and its turret initially came with a rounded front mantlet that acted as a shot trap, deflecting shells down through the thin top armour. On the plus side, the Panther was only about 20% more expensive to produce than the Panzer IV, and the Germans managed to produce 6,000 of them, though switching over did cost them in terms of other production due to the necessary retooling time. Along with the Tiger, the Panther was enough of a threat for the Western Allies to up-gun their Shermans (the 'Firefly' with the British 17-pounder gun and the multiple American (76) variants sporting a more powerful 76 mm gun) and the Soviets to make up-armored and up-gunned T-34-85's (with, you guessed it, a 85 mm gun in the turret). Along with the aforementioned US and Soviet tanks, the Panther eventually became one inspiration for the post-war "Main Battle Tank" concept, the other being the British Centurion. An upgraded Panther II was planned, but never entered production. [[File:Panther_Tank.jpg|thumb|left|300px|Zis vill do nicely! Danke!... Gott im Himmel, zat's a lot of Shermans!]] In recent years the tank has been associated with a phenomenon known as the "Panther Paradox", based on the general consensus that it was one of the war's best tanks. Essentially the tank itself, on paper, vastly outclassed the Sherman and T-34 in combat and wasn't much more expensive to build compared to the Panzer IV, yet when looking at its actual field performance the Panther did horribly. The actual answer comes in the form of "hard" values and "soft" values."Hard" values are the typical stuff people think about when they talk about tanks, like armor, speed, and firepower. "Soft" values are things like price, crew comfort, ease of maintenance, etc. While the Panther got top marks in the former, it was pretty terrible in the latter. The moral of the story, kids, is that what makes an effective weapon can't be narrowed down to a bunch of values you can put on the back of a cereal box.
* [[Tiger_1|'''Panzer VI Tiger:''']] Even before invading Russia and France, the generals of the Wehrmacht were requesting a "breakthrough tank" that could be used as the speartip of an armored assault, crushing any resistance and allowing its smaller brothers to exploit the hole it made in enemy defenses. The work on this concept began in 1937, but the first prototypes were a far cry from the monster the Nazis rolled out in 1942. The "Durchbruchwagen" (breakthrough tank), or DW for short, had many iterations with many problems, such as faulty transmission, overloaded and unreliable chassis, and failed unification with Pz.III (yes, that Pz.III, the medium tank, that was also developed in 1937-1938) lengthening the project significantly. It culminated in Typ 100 Leopard, a tank with 100mm armor and 88mm gun, a prototype of which was completed in March 1941. However, the shock of encountering the previously unknown Soviet KV-1s and T-34s spurred the actual implementation of heavy tanks as perceived German tank superiority was shattered. The Nazi top brass took this as a challenge to refine existing prototypes into the ultimate heavy tanks, and the result of said project were "the Big Cats". The first of these was the Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger heavy tank, built around the Typ 100 turret and gun, which entered service in 1942 (yes, the Pz. V actually came out after the VI did). "Heavy" definitely described the Tiger: it weighed 54 tonnes, had a 690 hp engine, had up to 100mm of armor, could reach 40 kph in good conditions to keep up with the little guys, and was armed with a hueg 88mm cannon that could take out a T-34 or Sherman from 2 kilometers with ease. In fact, it could do this to ''any tank the Allies would have at any point of the war'' from one kilometer away, barring IS-2s and Churchill VIIs. Despite this, the Tiger was over-engineered mechanically and somewhat under-designed chassis-wise. It was expensive, a drain on strategic resources, labor intensive to build, chugged gas like an alcoholic at an open bar, had reliability issues, and was [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVDDtbiGDxA?t=148 horribly maintenance-intensive once in the field]. Since the groundwork for the Tiger was laid out pre-Barbarossa, it did not implement the sloped armor concept of the T-34, which made the Tiger heavier and slower than it could have been for the same armor effectiveness. In short, it was essentially an upgraded Pz. IV and therefore a [[Metal Boxes|metal box]]. Only 1,347 Tigers were built, but they did have a colossal effect on Allied morale. In one instance a single Tiger destroyed most of the 22nd Armoured Brigade and forced them to retreat at the Battle of Villers-Bocage. The Tiger is without a doubt the most famous tank of WWII, known even to those illiterates who think WWII was only fought between America and Germany, and if most video games are to be believed, every Nazi tank was a Tiger. That is, however, somewhat understandable given just how often Allied tankers yelled 'Tiger' whenever they lost a tank, even to a regular Pz IV (which could be mistaken for a Tiger at a distance). The Tiger and Panther tanks, like a used car, came with an owner's manual (the Tigerfibel and Pantherfibel, respectively), and Heinz Guderian (German general with an ego that would make MacArthur seem modest, who wrote memoirs that are very good as literature and very bad as a primary source because he made himself look good at the expense of everyone else, especially Adolf) wanted every tank crew to read the manual. But even back then, people understood just how few guys actually read the instruction manual for anything. So it was written as a fun book to read, with humor, poetry, and naked girls alongside the information about how to use two of the most famous heavy tanks to be fielded in WWII.
* [[Tiger_II|'''Tiger II:''']] The Tiger II, sometimes known as the King Tiger (from an incorrect translation of ''Königstiger'', meaning "Bengal Tiger", but which literally translates to "Royal Tiger"), was the ultimate German tank, and introduced in 1944 as a successor to the Tiger. It weighed 68.5 tonnes (more than most modern tanks) and had 150mm of frontal armor, which was even sloped (a huge step forward from the boxy Tiger I)! Even so, between limited resources and an increasingly bombed-out industrial base, only 492 of these behemoths rolled off the assembly line before the war ended. These tanks were considered to be just as temperamental as the Tiger I, but for different reasons. The designers learned how to fix some of the problems with the Tiger I, and promptly over-built the Tiger II even more after patching the holes, because they thought they had wiggle room or something. It was damn near unkillable, but a fuel guzzler to the extreme, barely maneuverable, and prone to mechanical failures of almost any kind. Some historians argue that the King Tiger was only effective as a propaganda piece and little else, since the added size and weight often made maintaining the tank a nightmare, leaving aside its preexisting reliability issues. In the best conditions there was often a 50/50 chance they would even show up to fight, and in bad conditions you would be lucky if any made it. Interesting fact: since the Nazis were famous for constantly overcompensating, the first proposal of mounting a monstrous 8.8 cm Flak with a barrel 71 calibre long, that was ultimately made into 8.8 cm KwK 43 (the one Tiger II rocks), on a tank dates back to 21st of June, 1941, even before the invasion of the Soviet Union!
** Of note is the vehicles more recent reputation as a meme in historical groups as many Revisionists (armchair generals who believe war should be fought like WW2 again) often insist [[What|that it was the best tank ever made and could 1v1 the Abrams with ease.]] It could not, what makes modern tanks a lot more deadly than their ancentors are composite armour and advanced ammunition which are far more effective than the AP shells used in the WW2 era and this is not even accounting for other auxiliary systems like reactive armour, laser-guided missiles and reconnaissance via drone. Add to that that composite armour is so damned resilient that its protective value is measured in ''hundereds'' of millimeters of armoured steel and that tanks only a generation after the King Tiger were designed to operate on a nuclear battlefield. Since then it is often brought up in mockery of the group.
*'''Anything they could steal:''' From French [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Char_B1#Operational_history B1 heavy tanks] to Soviet [http://www.achtungpanzer.com/panzerkampfwagen-t-34r-soviet-t-34-in-german-service.htm T-34's] to American [http://beutepanzer.ru/Beutepanzer/us/M4_sherman/m4-75-sherman-01.htm Shermans], the Nazis used everything they could get their hands on like Orks in spiffy uniforms (not that the Allies were any different: the Soviets, for example, had several companies armed with captured Panthers that they used as tank destroyers). This became so chronic that the British had a rule in place that said any tank which could not be repaired or salvaged was to be destroyed so the Germans wouldn't pinch it. They deployed stolen tanks pretty much everywhere, and of every type; hell, even Renault FT-17s were used in police roles in some areas.
**[['''Panzer 38(t)|Panzer 35(t) and 38(t):''']] the most famous tanks the Nazi <s>stole</s> were supplied with by puppet governments all across Europe were the PZ 35(t) and 38(t). Light tanks, both were Czech designs (hence the (t), for ''Tschechisch'') Germany acquired when they took over first the Sudetenland and then the rest of Czechoslovakia. While very useful early in the war, the designs were rendered obsolete by 1942 (they simply couldn't compete against a T-34), and the chassis was instead used to produce Marder 2 and Hetzer tank destroyers. A version of the 38(t), called the Stridsvagn m/41, was also used by Sweden. [[Katanas are Underpowered in d20|The vehicle's Czech steel was lower-quality than German stock.]]

====Tank Destroyers/Assault Guns====
Between the First and Second World Wars, various nations were still trying to figure out what good designs were for armored vehicles and how to use them in general. The Germans were the most successful, creating the famed Panzer divisions, each of which was a small army in and of themselves, but everyone knows about those. However, Nazi military theorists realized that lowly grunts also required some armored support. Enter the brainchild of Erich von Manstein (at least officially), the assault gun. In 1936, he wrote a letter to the top brass about the need of ''Begleitartillerie'', "escort artillery" that could move into battle alongside infantry formations and lob 6 kg shells at any machine or field gun that interrupted the advance. The initial concept was to stick a huge gun (too big to put in a proper turret with then available technology) onto a Pz III chassis with a fixed casemate and open top (this was later changed) to allow the heavy gun to be moved around easily. Think of it like a [[Vindicator]]. The idea was approved, and the work on ''Panzerselbstfahrlafette III'' (quite a mouthful) begun with gusto. While primarily designed to bust fortifications, demands for the Pz.Sfl. III specified the ability to take on all types of existing armor at the distance of 500m. After being officially approved for production, they received the name of [[Stug_III|Sturmgeschütz III]], abbreviated to the StuG III. During the battle they usually engaged the enemy from the second line, where their limited firing arc wasn't such a big problem, and were universally praised both by infantrymen and their own crews. This all changed in 1941 when the Germans first encountered the [[T-34]]. The need to stop well-armoured tanks assaulting in mass shifted from a theoretical into a practical problem. The StuGs had to be upgunned and up-armored, and other, dedicated anti-tank vehicles had to be designed and built. The main difference between assault guns and tank destroyers was their affiliation: the former belonged to the artillery, the latter were part of the Panzer corps, which sometimes led to political disputes like Guderian's temper tantrum about getting Hetzers. Starting with lighter Panzerjäger tank destroyers as a stopgap measure, later in the war, Germany replaced them with big heavy tank destroyers, with thick armor and guns big enough to make an Ork blush with envy, and labeled the class "''Jagdpanzer''" (hunter-tank). Panzerjäger of both types had the advantage of being cheaper and simpler to make than turreted tanks, and having lower silhouettes that allowed for easier ambushes. Plus it was easy to convert an otherwise out of date, under-gunned tank into a destroyer. The disadvantage was, of course, that they had no turrets, so they could be outflanked and had no way to point their guns at any targets that did not drive in front of them short of turning the entire tank around. The StuGs and their descendants were such a huge success the Nazis actually pondered the idea of making them the mainstream of Panzer divisions even in 1943 (however, Panzer IV/70 (A) which was tagged for this role was ultimately labeled "unfit for frontline service"). Nevertheless, the turretless constructions meant that they were sacrificing much needed flexibility in the field, especially during bad weather or in difficult terrain, and the advantage of being able to build more units quickly becomes irrelevant if you're not losing them in the thousands yearly, so every major power in the post-45 world order didn't want to bother with it, especially since the British Centurion MBT showed the world for the first time that a tank could reliably perform all roles that were previously assigned to a variety of models. Only Germany kept some tank destroyers around after the war (the [[Kanonenjagdpanzer]]) and even that was thoroughly outclassed once self-directing ammunition like TOW missiles became available.
*'''Panzerjäger I''': Remember that little note in the Panzer I's description on how it was repurposed? Well, this is the end result. What basically amounts to a Panzer I with its turret taken off and a casemate installed instead, it had a nice 4.7cm anti-tank gun but was relatively weak otherwise. There were no vision slits in the casemate, meaning that in order to aim, the crew had to peek over the top and get themselves shot in the head (a pressing issue in particular for Anti-Tank Battalion 643).
*'''Marder:''' The Marder I, II, and III were all very similar tank destroyers, hence why they share a listing. The Marder I is based on the chassis of the French Lorraine 37L tractor, the Marder II is based off the Panzer II chassis, and the Marder III is based of off the Panzer 38(t) (the "T" means it was Czech in origin, not that it weighed 38 tons). All three were open-topped and armed with either 7.5 cm cannons or converted Soviet 76mm cannons they stole early in their invasion of USSR. At the start of Operation Barbarossa, German tanks were again under-gunned and armed compared to their enemies, especially when compared to the T-34 (which one German field marshal quipped was the best tank in the world in 1941). But, like the battle for France, the Germans alone in the world had an actual understanding of how to use tanks most effectively and were thus able to make massive advances anyway through superior tactical coordination. Still, a better antitank weapon was needed, so the Marders were created and armed with 7.5 cm weapons (although there were never enough of them, so they would revert to using Russian guns).
*'''Wespe''' and '''Hummel''': The Wasp and Bumblebee, respectively, and both with a nasty sting. Both were re-purposed tank chassis, but sporting artillery howitzers instead of antitank guns (Which makes them technically self-propelled artillery instead of assault guns, but in the end it's a huge gun on tracks so fuck that noise!) the Wespe was based off the Panzer II and sported a 105mm 'light' howitzer; the Hummel was based on a modified Panzer III chassis and sported a 150mm howitzer. They're the real-life equivalents of (and probably the inspiration behind) the Imperial Guard's [[Basilisk Artillery Gun]].
*'''Hetzer''': Repurposed Panzer 38(t) with a casemate-mounted 75mm gun. A nice late-war re-design and a dangerous opponent since its small chassis and decent speed made it easy to get in position for a good ambush, and its gun was strong enough to take on any Allied medium tank. Notorious for being an absolutely awful thing to be in, the interior was cramped to the point of farce and ergonomics were very poor. The chassis was overworked too, so mechanical breakdowns were constant. The Hetzer had some armour, but couldn't slug it out with the late-war tanks. Despite all this, it was adored by German grunts, because having an artillery gun at your side is always better than not having it.
*'''Nashorn''': Also called '''Hornisse''', this was a Marder-like tank-destroyer, with a chassis specially designed to mount the fearsome "Acht-acht" 88mm gun. Just like the Marders it was open-topped, but the huge range of its gun made it a dangerous opponent. The Germans later experimented with even bigger guns (105mm and 128mm) mounted like this, but those vehicles proved simply too heavy and impractical to use, so they did not evolve beyond a couple of prototypes.
*'''StuG III & IV''': By far the most widely produced German vehicle of WWII, the StuG was easily one of the most versatile combat platforms fielded in the war (and famous in the Panzer General series for easily knocking out Russian tanks). StuGs, short for "''Sturmgeschütz''" or "''assault artillery''", were built to combat a problem Germany encountered in World War I: that infantry alone lacked the ability to take on fortifications, and the artillery was too slow to keep up to allow direct fire on these targets. The StuG was the solution: by mounting a 7.5 cm <s>howitzer</s> [https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sturmgesch%C3%BCtz_III gun] in a fixed casemate on a Panzer III chassis, they allowed the vehicle to roll up with the infantry and blow any fortifications in the way to rubble. Of course during the invasion of the Soviet Union the Germans ran into tanks much better than their existing vehicles, namely KV-1s and T-34. In order to quickly counter these threats, the StuG was "up-gunned" (quote marks are there because the gun's caliber did not change), to mount a high-velocity 7.5 cm anti-tank gun. In 1943, the StuG chassis was changed from a Panzer III's to a Panzer IV's, otherwise no major changes were made but several production variants exist of the III. StuGs, despite looking like and being compared to tanks, were not considered tanks, and were crewed by artillery personnel. StuGs are estimated to have destroyed 20,000 enemy tanks in the course of the war, impressive when you consider that just over 10,000 were made, and not all of those were armed with actual anti-tank weapons. After the war, the Soviets gave a number of captured tanks to Syria where they were used up to the 1960s. In a funny twist of irony, some of those ended up in Israeli hands during the Six-Day War and remain on display in Tel Aviv today. (There was a self-propelled-gun with an actual howitzer, too: the StuH 42.)
*'''Sturmpanzer:''' Known commonly to the Allies as the ''Brummbär'' (Grouch), this infantry support gun was based on the Panzer IV chassis. It mounted a 15cm mortar-sized direct-fire cannon, which fired a combined shell-charge weighing in at over 100lbs, designed to make infantry and buildings not be there anymore.
*'''Ferdinand/Elefant''': To put the Ferdinand into perspective, this is a tank that even Hitler though was too complex, too unreliable, and too theoretically advanced to use. The Ferdinand is the result of a competition between two of Nazi Germany's top companies, Porsche and Henschel (both of which still exist today), to produce a heavy tank that could use the 8.8 cm gun, what would ultimately become the Tiger I. The initial plan was to produce both tanks simultaneously, with contracts to make a "small" series of 100 tanks for both participants signed with Krupp on the same day of 22th of July, 1941. Both Tigers (P) and (H) had A LOT of problems, but due to unclear reasons even before final tests conducted in November 1942 came the order to stop production of Porsche version. That's why, despite losing the contract, Porsche had 90 Porsche Tiger hulls laying around, though he couldn't make more as he lacked production lines of his own. It was decided to turn those unused Tiger P prototypes into tank destroyers, and so they bolted even more armor on and added a fixed super structure for the gun, and thus the Ferdinand (named humbly after Porsche himself) was born. The Ferdinand was a troubled vehicle: rather than one engine, its immense bulk required two, and thanks to poor ventilation they often overheated. Bizarrely, the two engines did not even connect to the drive train (possibly because of issues keeping the two engines synchronized without modern computer control), and were instead connected to a set of electric generators that in turn powered a pair of electric motors. That's right, in 1942, the Nazis built a 65 ton gas-electric, hybrid-powered tank destroyer, good for the environment maybe (but not actually, because the primitive technology just made the combo even less efficient), but maintenance for the thing was a nightmare worse than the Tiger. The concept of diesel-electric propulsion is not even as advanced for the time as many people think; the Soviets had developed such an engine for a locomotive in 1924, the German U-boats used the same technology for their underwater propulsion system (diesel engines charging a large set of batteries that drove an electric motor when underwater) and Porsche's own patent for this system dated back as far as 1896. The only innovation was that it was the first time this concept was implemented in an armoured vehicle. And before we forget, it did not have any machine guns for point defense. To be honest, it wouldn't have been that much of a deal (StuG-IIIs didn't have a machine gun until December 1942, for example) if Guderian hadn't used them as heavy tanks (he even calls them "Porsches' Tigers" in his memoirs), and even then out of 39 Ferdinands lost during the Battle of Kursk, only 4 were confirmed to be destroyed by Molotov cocktails, and in 3 cases they were damaged either by mines or artillery shells before that. It had one hell of a gun, however: the 8.8 cm Pak 43 could destroy any Allied tank at distances exceeding 2000 meters. In 1943, all 48 remaining operational tanks were converted to have a machine gun, more armor, anti-magnetic Zimmerit paste coatings, and a commander's cupola. The modified tanks were named Elefants. Overall, more Ferdinands were destroyed by their own crews after their tracks or suspensions were damaged by mines or artillery fire than were lost to enemy fire. Before we forget, the Elefants were also then sent to fight in Italy. [[Derp|Yes, they sent the tank destroyer known for its serious engine issues to a country known for its incredibly rugged and mountainous terrain]]. They did not last long. Maybe it is the inspiration for the Shadowsword Imperial Guard superheavy.
*'''Jagdpanzer IV''': A Panzer IV chassis mounting a long-barrelled 75mm gun in a casemate mount. Worked generally very well, the low silhouette being a great advantage over comparable assault guns, but had some notable downsides too. The inclusion of additional armour and the long 75mm KwK from the Panther strained the Panzer IV chassis to the absolute limit, limiting range and mechanical reliablity. The extra armour and long gun also made it particularly nose heavy, making it a bitch to drive and limiting its maneuverability, never mind being almost unable to make steep descents without bumping the gun on something, a problem tanks with a similar nose-heavy loadout like the Russian T-34 and SU-85 also had.
*'''Jagdpanther''': A Panther chassis mounting a long-barrelled 88mm gun in a casemate mount. Arguably the best "Jagd-" model combining decent mobility, decent protection and a very powerful gun.
*'''Jagdtiger''': Tiger II chassis outfitted with a long-barrelled 128mm (!) naval gun. Pure overkill, and ultimately a poorly-performing design. To put it in perspective, the M1 ''Abrams'' TODAY has a smaller and shorter 120mm cannon, even if most of its armor busting power comes from the fact it fires modern (and far more deadly) sabot rounds. Even back then, two of the most effective AT guns of the war were the German ''Acht-Acht'' 88mm gun and the British 76.2mm ''17 pounder'' gun; both much smaller, lighter and with a better rate of fire than this 128mm monster. No war machine used on the front line called for such a massive gun to be dealt with in World War II (save perhaps for the Soviets's [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IS_tank_family IS heavy tanks], which were designed to be have armor good enough to stand up to 88mm AT gun fire, but ironically the Jagdtiger only served on the Western Front, making it a moot point) and even the fact it could double up as artillery support in a pinch didn't make up for the fact it was just too big and unwieldy and slow-firing a gun to deal with tanks. Add to that, a tank with a 128mm main gun is especially stupid when your enemies on both sides favored zerg rushes of Shermans and T-34s, much lighter vehicles that could reliably be taken out by much smaller guns. While anticipating future enemy capabilities is important in wartime weapon development, pretty much no one was working on a vehicle sufficiently armored to warrant this firepower (excluding absurd super-heavy design studies like the American T28/T30 and T95 or the British Tortoise), unless it was intended to fire on battleships from the shore—and firing from a stationary coastal-defense position probably would be for the best, because even at its crawling pace, going off-road tended to knock the gun out of alignment and require it to be recalibrated before firing again, so good luck with flanking maneuvers. The nicest thing that could be said about it was that it was great for shooting at enemy tanks hiding behind buildings, because it would shoot straight through building and tank alike. (Seriously, read Otto Carius' memoirs. His opinion on these is as first-hand as it is scathing.)
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On a sidenote:
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One could reasonably point out that the Russians weren't much better in that regard, since they too threw a couple of 'overcompensated' tanks/assault guns into the fray over the course of WWII: The KV-2 sported a 152mm howitzer in a gigantic (and horribly impractical) turret, and the SU-152 and ISU-152 were also equipped casemate-mounted 152mm howitzers (basically, the only difference is that the SU was based on the KV chassis and the ISU on the IS chassis). The difference here is that these vehicles had been designed for infantry support (and demolishing ''festungs''), making the huge gun just mobile enough to keep up with the grunts and chucking high explosive death at the enemy from medium/long range instead of blasting other tanks to smithereens. This doesn't mean they couldn't: indeed the ISU-152 was effective enough in that regard to be nicknamed the ''Zveroboy'' (''Beast Killer'' in Russian, which it inherited from the SU-152), but being able to blast a Tiger on its back was merely a handy bonus. Add to that the low-velocity 152mm howitzer was a good 30% lighter than the massive PaK 80; resulting in lighter, more compact, and more mobile vehicles overall once they realized trying to mount a huge howitzer in a turret wasn't such a good idea after all. All the Russians did was switch the unwieldy 152's for lighter 85's, 100's and 122's to make actual tank destroyers.
</div>
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*[[File:Sturmtiger.jpg|200px|thumb|right|Contrary to what it looks like, this is not a mock-up of a 40k [[Vindicator]] but a real combat vehicle.]]'''Sturmtiger''': The Sturmtiger is one of the most striking example of Nazi "mad genius" given form, to the point that this assault gun could almost belong in the "Wunderwaffe" section. As you can see from the picture, it looks like a [[Vindicator]], which is not a coincidence: both vehicles' role is to rumble up to a strongpoint and obliterate it with extreme firepower. Very quickly, the Germans realized that fortifications were a major pain in their Aryan butts to deal with and that static artillery was too slow and vulnerable to keep up with their ''Blitzkrieg'' attacks. So at first they relied on airplanes and Pz.IVs and StuGs, but as their opponents started to contest the skies and howitzers on both tanks and self-propelled artillery had to be replaced with antitank guns to stem the endless tide of T-34s, the problem of bunker-busting raised its head once again. The Sturmtiger is what you get when the point where you should have stopped putting bigger, larger guns on tracks is long passed, yet one still keeps going... and somehow manages to make it work. Starting as a direct response to the Soviet SU-152 (there's even an urban legend about some German general looking at it and going "I want this, but BIGGER") and based off of the Tiger I chassis, it sported a [[bolter|''380mm gun/rocket launcher'']] [[awesome|''adapted from a Kriegsmarine depth-charge launcher'']] as its main gun; [[wat|and only because the 210 mm howitzer they intended to use first wasn't available]]. Although it sported a gun that could obliterate anything in front of it, the Sturmtiger suffered the same problems as the Tiger itself. Overstressed drive train, maintenance-intensive and prone to breakdown, ''Schachtellaufwerk'' tracks to keep ground pressure tolerable, and an underpowered engine. On top of that, the rocket was so powerful that in order to not break the barrel of the gun or kill the crew, the exhaust gasses from launching the depth-charge rocket had to be vented out of a number of tubes that went back up the barrel.
*'''Flakpanzer IV''': Tanks whose main gun had been replaced with one (or more) anti-aircraft guns. With the Luftwaffe having been squandered by inability to adapt to changes (i.e. realize that ''maybe'' it should have switched priorities to defending the Fatherland before the latter half of 1943), the Germans came up with these SPAAGs in other to try to defend themselves from all those nasty American ''Jabos'' (German shorthand for fighter-bomber) making their lives hell. Didn't really work, because towards the end of the war the ground attack aircraft had become too fast to be engaged reliably by guns relying on human eyes to acquire and follow their target. They were, however, [[rape|murder on tracks]] when facing infantry and lightly armored ground targets. Four variants were made, all based on the ever-reliable Panzer IV chassis:
**'''Möbelwagen''': Odd looking thing that more or less was an armoured AA-emplacement on a tank; when deployed, the crew would fold down the "walls" of the open topped fixed turret with a 3.7 cm AA-gun on top of it. Needless to say, it didn't offer any significant improvement over existing and far more simple AA-vehicles which consisted of little more than an armoured truck with the gun in a trailer.
**'''Wirbelwind''': Perhaps the most iconic of the four, it massively improved the design by adding an again open-topped turret that could be turned almost as fast as a regular AA-gun on its mounting. Armed with a quadruple 2 cm FlaK 38 and 105 being built, it was ultimately the most common variant of the Flakpanzer IV.
**'''Ostwind''': The last Flakpanzer IV to be put into serial production. The turret remained pretty much the same from the Wirbelwind, although the introduction of a single 3.7-cm FlaK 43 made one of the two loaders on the Wirbelwind obsolete and a hydraulic turning mechanism pumped its turning speed up to 60 per second. Its prototype partook in the Battle of the Bulge and returned back home undamaged. 47 were completed by the end of the war.
**'''Kugelblitz''': Similar deal to the Type XXI U-boats, the Kugelblitz was the peak of military engineering for its time that remained unsurpassed until computer-guided tracking systems and heat-seeking missiles revolutionized ground-based AA weaponry. The Kugelblitz utilized a fully enclosed, roughly ball-shaped turret with two 3 cm MK 103 borrowed from the ME-262 fighter plane that were fed by belt instead of magazines or clips like the FlaK guns before. The shape of the turret, combined with an improved version of the hydraulic turning mechanism of the Ostwind, made for an incredibly deadly package that could cover the airspace above it completely and inspired many imitators after the war. That being said, the 37mm AA gun was really showing its age and post-war AA guns went for either high-caliber autocannons or rotary guns. Only 5 prototypes were made by the end of the war, one of which actually saw combat in Thuringia, where a direct hit by a bomb blasted its turret off into a forest, where it was recovered in 1999.

===Halftracks and Armoured Cars===
*'''Kfz 13''': One of the first projects of the German armament programs that started after Hitler started to outright ignore the conditions of Versailles. Very much a stopgap solution based on a civilian car, the Adler Standard 6. Some of them partook in the invasions of Poland and France and were relegated to training purposes shortly after.
*'''Einheits-PKW''': A German take on the US army jeep, general purpose cars meant for transporting officers and reconnaissance. Existed in three weight classes. Became redundant after the introduction of the Kübelwagen, who could do everything an Einheits-PKW could do for cheaper and also could be made into an amphibious vehicle with only minor modifications. The heavy Einheits-PKW served as the basis for the wheeled armoured reconnaissance tank Sd.Kfz 221.
*'''Leichter Panzerspähwagen Sd.Kfz. 221/222/223''': The 221 was the standard reconnaissance vehicle of the Wehrmacht in the early days of the war. Open topped and armed with an MG 34, its weak armor of only 25 millimeters, as well as its armament proved insufficient during the French campaign. The vehicles would be refitted with the 20mm autocannon from the Panzer II and redesignated as the Sd.Kfz. 222. Leading vehicles would be equipped with high-capacity radios instead of any armament and designated as Leichter Funkwagen 223.
*'''Schwerer Panzerspähwagen Sd.Kfz 231/232/233''': The heavy alternative to the 222. A six (or eight)-wheeled tank whose development already started when the Weimar Republic was still alive and well. It was the primary reconnaissance vehicle for the tank divisions. The different designations refer to the armament. A 231 was armed with two MG 15s in a Panzer I turret, the 232 with a high-capacity radio, and the 233 with the short-barreled 7.5-cm tank gun from the earlier versions of the Panzer IV and the StuG III.
*'''Schwerer Panzerspähwagen Sd.Kfz 234 "Puma"''': A completely new wheeled tank, where the major improvement over the older 231s and 222s was that they were designed around being tanks instead of armoured cars. The first serially produced version, the 234/2 was armed with the long 5 cm-tank gun from the Panzer III in the turret of the never realized Leopard reconnaissance tank, later versions were open topped due to material shortages. This gave the vehicles firepower unprecedented for such a light vehicle and often lead to crews to take the fight to the enemy instead of scouting, with mixed results.
*'''Mittlerer Schützenpanzerwagen Sd.Kfz. 251''': The standard APC of the Wehrmacht throughout the entire war. A design so flexible that it could easily be used in just about any role any commander wanted it to serve with tons of variants of it existing. In the standard configuration, it could carry 10 men plus equipment in an open topped chassis. An innovation over competing APCs of the time was that soldiers could enter and leave the vehicle quickly through a door in the back. The 251 was originally supposed to form the backbone of the Panzergrenadier divisions, providing infantry support for tanks in a vehicle quick enough and armoured to deliver them directly into the fray, but the lack of industrial capacity as well as the complicated Schachtellaufwerk of its tracks limited their production rates. The later years of the war saw the 251 relegated to an absurd number of combat roles, from light SPAAG with a 2-cm-FlaK 36, AT gun carrier and even Infrared night vision reconnaissance. One of the more prolific and successful vehicles of the German Army in general, with 15.000 of them being built throughout the entirety of the war.

===Airplanes===
After the Great War, Germany was explicitly forbidden from having an air force by the Treaty of Versailles. Once the Nazis came to power, they had to rebuild from scratch. First covertly with layers of deniability by bankrolling glider clubs and similar, then once the components were ready they could easily assemble an air force. A lot of grief and death could have been spared the world if France and England put their feet down in the 1935 or so, alas they chickened out.

* '''Messerschmitt Bf 109:''' The Luftwaffe's mainstay fighter through WWII. Work began on the project shortly after Hitler came to power in 1933, the first prototype flew in 1935 and it entered service in 1937, seeing action in the Spanish Civil War. It is also the most produced fighter of all time, with nearly 34,000. The variants of the 109 and the Spitfire competed with each other throughout the war for the title of "World's Best Fighter" as they were both continually upgraded. The 109 was small, very fast, a good turner (early on), a god tier climber, and was inexpensive to produce and maintain. The 109's speed and climb rate made it a top tier fighter in the early stages of the war. That said it was also short ranged and as the war progressed it started showing its age, gradually losing manoeuvrability as its engine power was increased.
[[File:Fw190d9jv 1.jpg|thumb|right|250px|When the Nazis applied their sense of style to aerospace engineering, the result was the Fw 190D-9, the second sexiest son of a bitch in the sky, second only to the SR-71]]
* '''Messerchmitt Bf 110:''' The archetype of the Luftwaffe's "destroyer" concept, and a flying monument to hubris and doubling down on bad decisions. In the late 1930s, German engineers believed that the limitations of engine technology gave multi-engine bombers an unbeatable speed advantage over single-engine fighters. Thus, this beast: a fast, twin-engined air superiority fighter armed with heavy cannons and defensive machine guns. "Destroyers" never worked particularly well in their intended role, being handily outmaneuvered by even early-war Allied fighters. Although the very concept was flawed, Bf 110s and other "destroyers" soldiered on throughout the war, in large part because Hermann Goering had a massive hard-on for them and couldn't be told "no". It also helped that the planes' large airframes were well-suited to other roles besides air superiority; "destroyers" could be converted into effective tactical bombers or night-fighters when equipped with early radar sets.
* '''Junkers Ju 87:''' Probably the airplane used by the Nazis any random person is going to know about due to [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQzv-8pJSqY the highly-distinctive sound of its ram-air sirens, known as "Jericho trumpets"] as it dived in for an attack run - whether intentionally or not depending on how stringently the media this person watched actually portrays the Ju 87 or if they're just using its cool sound. The Ju 87 or "Stuka" as it was also known as (short for ''Sturzkampfflugzeug'') was a dive bomber that quickly became a symbol of German airpower in the beginning of the war and was a key part of Germany's initial Blitzkrieg victories. A novel design, it was equipped with automatic pull-up dive brakes to ensure the aircraft recovered from its attack dive even if its pilot blacked out and wouldn't have been a feasible concept at all if its cabin wasn't pressurized and without a lot of other pilot protection advancements since only 2 G (Stuka pilots going in and out of a dive went through 8 or 9 G) could have killed a pilot in an unpressurized cabin. The Stuka proved to be so iconic that its nickname was lent to another piece of German military hardware - the Werfrahmen 40 multiple rocket launcher became known as the "Walking Stuka". However, as the war went on and Allied air superiority became the rule of almost every battle, the Stuka wasn't really produced anymore, as it was absolutely helpless against the many Allied fighters filling the air (though there were occasions that the Stuka got to bomb things like it was 1939 again when the Allied ground units outpaced their air support).
** By the way, the Jericho trumpets were attached to the plane for psychological warfare purposes and while it ''was'' pretty certain that ground units hearing the Jericho trumpets did indeed shit themselves and dive for cover, the usefulness of them were debatable considering they produced drag on the aircraft and provided an advance warning sound for ground troops to get down (and the helpfulness of getting down was why [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_On_Target Time On Target] artillery coordination was developed) - though if nothing else, the trumpets provided audible feedback on the plane's speed for its pilot.
* '''Focke-Wulf Fw 190''': When first introduced, the Fw 190 was hands-down the best fighter on the planet, due mostly to its very powerful radial engine. The 190A-3 was rocking 1,700 horsepower at a time when the Spitfire V had 1,450. As the war dragged on, BMW failed miserably to improve the engine and the 190 dropped in effectiveness until it was given a completely new engine in the Dora variant. The 190 was horrifically fast at low altitude, had extremely powerful armament, outstanding high speed handling, and had the best roll rate of any plane in the war. However, it was a very poor turner. This set of attributes made the 190 one of the best "boom and zoom" fighters, going toe to toe with Mustangs and Thunderbolts but once again falling victim to shit production, just as the Russians started getting [[Dakka|P-39 Airacobras]] from America that could take on anything the Nazis had as long as the fight was below 12,000'.
* '''Fieseler Fi 156 Storch''': A product of the early, successful parts of the war, the Storch was a dedicated observation plane for forward air control and was a popular choice for generals making visits to the front line. It was unique for its '''EXTREMELY''' low stall speed of 31 mph which even in the 21st century is still impressive for a two seater and almost 25% lower than the American equivalent (the Piper Cub). The design continued in production well into the 1960s in France and the USSR; modern replicas using even lighter, stronger materials are capable of flight with a takeoff run of as little as 30 meters. Its capabilities for close support were illustrated best during the final days of the war, when famed pilot Hanna Reitsch landed one on a building-lined street in Berlin and then successfully got it airborne again.
[[File:HE111Z.JPG|thumb|left|150px|One of Germany's attempts at packing enough dakka in explosive form]]
*'''Heinkel He 111''': The main German bomber from beginning to end, it was developed in the 1930s; the Nazis called it a high speed passenger aircraft to get around the Treaty of Versailles. It was first put to its real use in the Spanish Civil War. The He 111 was a twin engine medium bomber, cheap to make and maintain and able to carry up to 3,600 kilos of bombs. Early on it performed very well and was one of the most effective bombers in the world, but after 1941 the British and Americans began building larger and longer ranged four engine bombers like the Lancaster and the Flying Fortress in large quantities. The German engineers had a plan to counter these with an enhanced version of the HE 111 called the HE 111-Z that consisted of two 111 fuselages fused together on a central wing (which is just as retardedly awesome and awesomely retarded as it sounds) therefore gathering twice the bombs and weaponry of a regular bomber while being powered by 5 engines. They did manage to make it fly but it remained a prototype. Note: Actually it was supposed to be used as a glider tug for the massive Messerschmitt ME-321 Gigant cargo glider and the proposed Junkers JU-322 Mammut.
*'''Heinkel He 177 "Greif"''': The only heavy bomber the Germans were fielding and the perfect counterexample for people who cannot stop blabbering about supposed German technical superiority. It was an attempt to combine the concepts of a heavy long-range bomber like the British Halifax or the American B-17 with the dive-bomb-capabilities of the Stuka. To that end, the plane was made deliberately heavier and had two engines, that were actually four that drove two propellers. Even though it became obvious very quickly that the concept of a heavy dive bomber was impossible, the Germans kept building them, which only revealed much more pressing concerns with the design, the most notable of which was that the engine cooling system never worked right and guzzled coolant at very high rates. When the coolant ran out, the engines spontaneously combusted. German pilots loathed the damn thing so much that they gave it grim nicknames like "Burning coffin" and "Imperial Torch". When it didn't burst into flames, it was an alright plane, but mostly used for short-range reconnaissance flights, supplying the trapped 6th Army in Stalingrad, and naval bombing. It was eventually retired in 1944, when fuel shortages meant that they could no longer take off.
* '''Messerschmitt ME-163 Komet''': Before the Nazis mastered jet engines, they toyed around with rocket-based fighters instead. The Komet was a tiny, zippy little fighter plane, and the first plane to travel faster than 1000 kph. It was also the first and last rocket-powered fighter, as they only succeeded to shoot down about eighteen Allied planes at the cost of ten crashed Komets. This was because despite being far faster than anything the Allies could field, the Komet proved very temperamental: it was difficult to control while building speed, its fuel was dangerous to handle, its landing gear could bounce off and smack the plane, its cannons were too slow to keep up, and it was vulnerable as it glided back to earth. Still, for its time, it was the only fighter capable of threatening the Allies' high-altitude bombers, until the ME-262 came about. The fuel, being hypergolic, had a nasty tendency to melt the test pilots, the plane itself, and pretty much everything it touched. Which, oddly enough, was still less of a OSHA hazard that what follows...
[[File:ME 262.jpg|thumb|left|200px|The ME-262: Nazi Germany's state of the art sky shark]]
* '''Ba 349 Natter''': The meaning of "double down" if Luftwaffe logistics was a poker game. Even crazier than the Komet, Natter was little more than a [[Grot Bomm Launcha]] with unguided rocket batteries up the nose. Adding to the madness was that it was designed to be built with unskilled labor, using wood. Yes, wood. Yes, the British Mosquito was made of wood, but the Mosquito was built by professionals with great care, and was not '''rocket powered!''' What's worse, its fuel was [https://www.science.org/content/blog-post/things-i-won-t-work-peroxide-peroxides T-Stoff] (a highly caustic solution of hydrogen peroxide and a stabilizing chemical) mixed with C-Stoff (a hydrazine hydrate/methanol/water mixture). This shit spontaneously combusted whenever you looked at it funny, so extreme care was required to handle both chemicals; leave it to Nazis to use fuel made out of the second most dangerous and villainous compounds (See N-Stoff bellow for the stuff even they thought was crazy). The Walter motor generated about 1,700 kg (3,740 lb) of thrust but a loaded Ba 349A weighed more than 1,818 kg (4,000 lb) so liftoff required more power, like a rail launcher or catapult. Simply put, the design was fuck-nut retarded from scratch, killing every test pilot that had the misfortune to set foot in the thing, and it was canceled before it was used, not that a plane nearing the speed of sound made out of shitty wood firing unguided rockets wouldn't hit fuck-all.
* '''[[ME-262 Sturmvogel|Messerschmitt ME-262]]''': The Me 262 was the world's first operational jet fighter and one of the most advanced aircraft of WWII. It was very fast, able to achieve a speed of 900km/h (in comparison, a P51 Mustang had a top speed of about 700km/h) and carried four 30mm cannons. The latter was its most important feature because around that time, a single HE autocannon hit meant "instant death" for any aircraft facing them, forcing them to exploit 262's slow turning speed. Quality suffered due to a lack of high quality steel, which severely limited the shelf life of their engines to twelve hours. Even so, it was incredibly effective against bombers and made Allied fighter pilots shit themselves when they showed up. Much like every other advanced Nazi weapon, it arrived too late (in part due to delays involving the Nazi top brass-thank God for Hitler on not deciding whether it should be a tactical bomber or a fighter-) and in too few numbers to influence the course of the war, though it certainly helped spur development of jet aircraft on both sides of the Iron Curtain postwar. The Japanese built a rather similar jet fighter in the Nakajima Kikka, but that never got beyond prototype.
[[File:Heinkel He 162 CASM 2012 5.jpg|thumb|right|200px|The "Volksjäger" aka. "Spatz" or "Salamander". Tiny. Deadly.]]
*'''He-162''': With a max speed of 900 kph, 2 centerline 20mm cannons, and a 39 lbs/ft^2 wingloading, the He-162 was almost invincible in combat. Where the 262 was an interceptor, the He-162 was designed as a cheap, easy to build and fly air superiority fighter. It was also designed to be piloted by children. Developed as a Volksjäger (”people's fighter”) the He-162 was a last ditch design meant to be piloted by the high school aged Hitler Youth as Nazi Germany had almost completely run out of regular pilots at the time. Amazingly enough despite the incredibly short time between design and full production, it turned out to be a solid design; both cheap and easy to build (most of the frame was made of wood) and a dangerous opponent (Allied testing after the war showed that a large number of them would have been a major pain in the rear to deal with). The only point where the "Spatz" didn't deliver was the 'easy to fly' part; like all early jet airplanes it required an experienced pilot at the stick and being able to bench press to just turn the damn thing (which was a problem to everyone until the lessons of the Korean War).

===Ships===
As a general rule, Hitler dumped most of Germany's money into the ''Heer'' (army) and ''Luftwaffe'' (air force), leaving the ''Kriegsmarine'' (navy) out in the cold, so to speak, so they were not overly fond of him. (Although Hitler realised he wouldn't be able to build up a navy to rival the English quickly, so he prioritised planes and tanks over ships to seize land and industrial capacity at first, which kind of made sense, at least in his delusional dreams where Great Britain wouldn't have dared to come kick him in the balls if a war was to break out.) Hitler actually liked the idea of a huge navy and authorized Plan Z in 1937, which would have built a truly massive fleet to fight the Royal Navy in about 1945, as the building up to that point was designed to fight France, and predated the Nazis' rise to power.

Like so many of Der Fuhrer's calls, it is a controversial matter and bound to create much [[skub| Skub]]. On one hand, German submarines proved to be a deadly asset in the Atlantic, wreaking absolute goddamn havoc among the convoys directed to Britain and sinking more ships than all the Kriegsmarine's surface units combined, apparently giving credit to Admiral Dönitz's idea of winning the war through the U-Boats alone. On the other, the lack of success from the aforementioned surface fleet was almost exclusively HIS fault and his fault alone as, for starters, Hitler moved too fast with his plans of invasion like an impatient child on Christmas morning and started the war before the Kriegsmarine had enough surface units ready to deploy. Then [[What|he ordered the resources that were being poured into the construction of said ships to be directed towards other projects, including building tanks and airplanes]], ordering the construction to be halted and leaving Admiral Raeder with a severe shortage of materials and not enough ships to fight the British on equal terms or provide escorts to his capital ships (to give you an example of what a stupid idea that was, he ordered to stop working on the aircraft carrier ''Graf Zeppelin'' when it was about 85% complete, [[fail|and that could have saved a certain flagship's ass if it had been put into service]]) and then, for fear of losing the few ships he had, ordered the entire surface fleet to stay in port and not go out on sorties, and to slap the shit icing on the shit cake, he seemingly forgot all of the above and declared the surface fleet a complete failure because they weren't sinking enemy ships...without considering the fact that [[fail|HE and his orders were the reasons why his ships couldn't do anything]] (well that and because the Royal Navy would eat them alive but he didn't help).

Overall, Hitler's utter incompetence and lack of knowledge about naval warfare doomed the Kriegsmarine and left nobody happy: Dönitz ended up not having enough submarines to fight the long war and Raeder ended up with not enough ships to meet the Royal Navy head on, although the few ships that saw combat inflicted heavy blows to the enemy and left one hell of a mark in history, fighting against impossible odds and always at a disadvantage, but refusing to surrender or go down without putting up remarkable resistance. Admittedly, it's easier to speak in favor of the Kriegsmarine due to a lack of major atrocities beyond unrestricted submarine warfare (also engaged in by Allied forces) and slave labor at a low rate compared to other forces. Raeder and Dönitz were no saints; indeed, Hitler thought so highly of Dönitz that he put him in charge of Germany before he committed sudoku in Berlin. It is however fair to say that their obedience to Hitler really fucked the navy over, hard. Also Hitler liking Dönitz only made him the first name to pop up to replace Göring who had offered to surrender to the Americans on Hitler's behalf, which Martin Bormann manipulated Hitler into believing that Göring had tried to coup him so Hitler likely just named the first Marshall or Grand Admiral that he thought of. Even then, Dönitz was suppossed to only be Head of Government while Goebbels was made Head of State, though Goebbels and his wife becoming an heroes a day after the drug addicted dictator painted the floor red made that a moot point.

* '''U-Boote''': U-Boote, (short for "''Unterseeboot''" or "underwater boat") are submarines. They were used in devastating effect to cut off Britain from supplies from the outside world by having "wolfpacks" of U-boats patrol around shipping lanes and sink any enemy ship they found. Their other uses involved seeking and destroying enemy battleships, placing automated weather stations all over the world (helpful for Kriegsmarine ships) and dropping off a substantial number of spies in Britain and even America, most of which got caught and subsequently replaced by British spies (some of the ways the British bamboozled the Nazis, like the moment the Germans gave a British agent the Iron Cross are just hilarious). As a consequence of all this, they worked very well in the first years of the war, sinking huge (and I mean HUGE) numbers of ships with very few boats (only about 15 U-boats, at most, were out at sea at any given time in the first year or so). Being such an absolute pain in the arse, the British thus invested a fuckton of money and manpower into hunting and killing said U-boats, and finally got very, very good at it, through a combination of new technology, a [[Wikipedia:Western Approaches Command|massive information network]] for coordinating defenses, and [https://paxsims.wordpress.com/2016/12/08/the-wargaming-wrens-of-the-western-approaches-tactical-unit/ navy wargamers] [[awesome|developing new strategies to counter the U-boats]]. Right when more and more U-boats were being produced, as German high command realized their potential, the British began sinking ever more of them (Example: in all of 1941, 35 boats were lost, in 1943, 244 boats were sunk, with 41 in May alone). Admiral Karl Dönitz, a former U-boat man himself, loved the U-boats and built one of the largest structures on earth at the time to house them: the German U-boat pens in captured France. U-boats had been used in the First World War, and their campaign of sinking any ship, even those with US citizens on them (even after the German government made a very public warning to the US that boarding a ship to England was a very bad idea), that approached England led to the neutral America to join the Entente and for them to be the last straw on the German back to end it.
**'''''Type VII''''': The most common type and with 703 ships in total also the most-produced submarine model in history. Generally well regarded as a very good design, it was rather nimble for its tonnage, was able to dive extremely quickly, and could go deeper than even the designers anticipated (U-95, the famous submarine from ''Das Boot'', reportedly went as deep as 290 meters after being hit by depth charges, and even though it was quite taxing on the ship itself, the crew survived in full and made it back to port). Its major downfall (as seems to be the norm with most Nazi equipment) was that it wasn't used in its intended role; the Type VIIC submarines in particular weren't designed for long-range operations and their firepower against anything larger than a merchant vessel was negligible. They were, at best, torpedo boats that could also dive, and only the Fall of France even made it even possible for them in the first place to operate in the mid-Atlantic as they did, even though their main theater was supposed to be the North Sea, the Baltic, and the Channel. Incompetent leadership as well as the aforementioned efforts of the British in fighting them led to the Type VII becoming obsolete by 1942 and a major bleed of trained Seamen and Naval officiers.
**'''''Type IX''''': The Type VII's bigger sister, and the actual ocean-going submarine of the Kriegsmarine. Much more spacious than the Type VII, and designed to operate as far away as the ''fucking Indian Ocean''. Quite a few of them remained a considerable threat due to their elusiveness and extreme range; multiple Type IXs made it as far as New York City and sank convoys there. As is tradition, incompetent leadership fucked this type and their crews; Dönitz was notoriously iron-fisted about keeping the Type VII wolfpacks in use and very narrow-minded as far as new technology goes. The Type IX was for the task at hand superior to its smaller cousin in every way, but materiel shortages and limited dockyards meant it was damned to take a step back behind the Type VII.
**'''''Type XXI''''': A technological marvel that came at the very end of the war, and too late to be used by the Nazis themselves, but these babies were by far the most advanced type of submarine devised at the time. Primarily designed to operate almost entirely under water and as trials with the finished ships by the Allies after the war showed, more than capable of that. The Type XXI ''Elektroboot'' marks a significant shift in submarine doctrine across the globe, as it proved that submarines were more than capable of operating far away from a port without needing any assistance while staying almost completely invisible. The modern nuclear submarines of the US and USSR are direct decendants of the Type XXI for that very reason. Unfortunately for the Nazis and fortunately for everyone else they had serious problems in their construction as Albert Speer decided [[wat|to farm out hull construction to a steel bridge company to speed up production]] and they never scored a kill.
* '''''Gorch Fock''''': The first of a series of five ships built very early in Germany's rearmament program, when the Nazis were still uncertain what might provoke the allies. Not in any way a warship, these were sail tallships, the last, largest, and finest ever made (although their engine systems were designed to train sailors for operating U-Boats). After the war all the ships of the class were seized as war trophies, notably the ''Horst Wessel'' which was taken by the United States becoming the ''USCGC Eagle''. The modern day ''Gorch Fock'' of the Bundesmarine is a new ship built from the same plans in 1958 and remains a training vessel to this day.
* '''''Deutschland Class Cruiser''''': The archetypal battlecruiser, the ''Deutschlands'' were the first new large ships designed by Germany after the Treaty of Versailles, and were carefully designed to get the most out of a very liberal interpretation of what the treaty permitted. Fast and heavily armed, they were ideal for commerce raiding and all three were used in this role. Of the class, the ''Admiral Scheer'' had the most successful career, sinking the most shipping tonnage of any surface ship in WWII, while the ''Graf Spee'' would get in a shootout with three British cruisers and be forced to scuttle in the harbor of Montevideo.
* '''''Admiral Hipper-Class Cruiser''''': A result of the British-German Treaty of 1935, supposed to cross the gap between the Bismarck-class battleships and the lighter Deutschland class. The most famous of these was the ''Prinz Eugen'', which accompanied the ''Bismarck'' on his fateful journey and was the only heavy German warship that survived the war intact. The planners of the Kriegsmarine called for a design that was exceptionally sturdy, and the result fulfilled these expectations more than they could have imagined; after the war, it was taken by the US Navy and used in the series of nuclear tests in American Samoa, [[Wat|where it survived all three hydrogen bomb blasts with only minor damage]], but it was so irradiated that the US towed it off the coast of the Bikini Atoll. Here it sank, after the propellers had dislodged as a result of the nuclear blasts in 1946. Its wreck is still above the surface, since the water where it sank isn't very deep.
* '''''Scharnhorst and Gneisenau''''':
* '''''Bismarck and Tirpitz''''': <s>A pair of battleships with guns as big as steers and shells as big as trees. As well as inspiration for a kickass Sabaton song </s> Memes aside, those were the largest battleships built by any European power and two of the biggest in the World; although not the biggest (''Yamato'' was heavier and around ten meters longer), or the ones with the most illustrious career (''Warspite'' served and kicked asses in both World Wars), they were by far the deadliest and best battleships around during the war, so powerful and dangerous to make Winston Churchill himself shit his pants. Much of the material regarding them as "technologically outdated", "useless" or inferior to their contemporaries are just results of the heavy discrediting campaign the Allies came up with during and after the war, so that everyone would think that "anything built by Nazi Germany = inferior to anything American and British and thus worthless", when that couldn't be farther from the truth: the ''Bismarck'' fought, with only the heavy cruiser ''Prinz Eugen'' at his side, the battleship HMS ''Prince of Wales'' and the battlecruiser HMS ''Hood'' and [[awesome|literally one-shotted the ''Hood'' after just five minutes of combat by hitting her in the aft magazine, with subsequent explosion breaking the ship in half]] and killed all but three of its crew, then pointed his guns on the ''Prince of Wales'' and mauled her badly enough to force her to withdraw; at that point, the ''Bismarck'' could have won the entire war for Germany. Alone. And that's for three simple reasons: A) Britain was already on the brink of starvation thanks to the German submarines and raiders, so a ship like the ''Bismarck'' left unchecked and free to hunt down convoys in the Atlantic for three months would have meant the UK would have been forced to surrender lest its population died for a lack of food; B) ''Hood'' had been always presented as the most powerful ship in the world and was the most loved ship of the Royal Navy; the fact that she had been sunk in an engagement where she technically had the upper hand in terms of power (since they were a battleship and a battlecruiser against a battleship and a heavy cruiser, even though the ''Bismarck'' and the ''Prinz Eugen'' were more modern) was an extremely heavy blow to the already strained British morale, that started raising questions as to the ability of the Royal Navy to actually counter the Germans' ambitions at sea; C) the Royal Navy lacked a ship powerful enough to confront the ''Bismarck'' in battle, without numbers on its side. It should be no surprise then that Churchill ordered every available ship to chase the ''Bismarck'' and destroy it, resulting in a fleet of more than 60 SHIPS searching the Atlantic to destroy him (and before you ask, yes, it is the biggest naval formation ever assembled to hunt down a single ship), that after three days of hunting managed to track him down, cripple him and then have a 5v1 engagement in which the Bismarck was shelled without mercy, [[awesome|yet still refused to sink]]. They tried torpedoes. [[awesome|And he still didn't sink]]. In the end it was left to the ''Bismarck'''s own crew to scuttle him, since they had no way of fighting back after the beating the ship had taken. All the while the ''Tirpitz'' proved to be another real bitch to kill, just like his big brother: after the ''Bismarck'' sinking, the ''Tirpitz'' received reinforced deck armor, even more advanced systems and a shitload more of AA guns to fight off enemy aircraft and she was considered so much of a threat that the British admiralty was forced to keep three ''King George V''-class battleships at Scapa Flow at any time and the Americans had to send the ''Iowa'', the ''Washington'' and the ''Alabama'' in case "The Beast", as Churchill called her, decided to move. After ship attacks failed to damage her, the RAF spent an entire year attacking her, but without results, forcing them to use almost [[what|6 tonnes bombs]] (the Tallboy) to destroy her, [[awesome|but ''Tirpitz'' survived even these]], until November 1944, when one of said bombs hit one of the ship's magazines and finally ssnk it. The only real "flaws" of the ships were the three-propeller system that made them difficult to maneuver at low speed and impossible if one of the rudders was to be destroyed, and the fact they were so massive that there were very few facilities capable of hosting them; in truth, the ''Bismarck'' class represented the very pinnacle of battleship design, with a perfect balance of overwhelming firepower, incredibly efficient armor protection (seriously, [[what|40% of their weight was dedicated to the armor]] and their armored belt was around 170 meters long, meaning that most of the ships were protected by it) and speed and their flaws were far less dangerous in a combat situation that those found on every other modern battleship of the war: the ''King George V''s were slower and both them and the ''Richelieu''s were uselessly complicated and suffered from severe mechanical failures and hydraulic problems (not to mention they couldn't shoot backwards), the ''Yamato''s were so big and heavy that they were impossible to maintain, furthermore their guns and shells were highly ineffective, their armor scheme was a total mess and their radar was much less advanced, the ''Iowa''s, while faster, with better technology and (only slightly) more powerful guns, had a terrible weakness in the form of extremely poor armor reliability to withstand both shells and torpedoes and that was discovered only months after the four battleships had been fully built and thus was impossible to rectify, a flaw they shared with both the ''North Carolina'' class and the ''South Dakota'' class, only that those two were also slower than the ''Bismarck'' and the ''Littorio''s were completely unreliable, lacking radar systems, their guns were extremely inaccurate and also had a very short lifespan.
**A counterpoint: Frankly, none of the battleship circle-jerking above really matters in the end, because the era of battleships would come to a sudden and violent end on December 7, 1941. Indeed, it was an obsolete goddamn biplane launched from the carrier ''Ark Royal'' that doomed ''Bismarck'' by nailing it in the stern with a torpedo and jamming its steering. Everything after that was inevitable. Likewise, the fact that ''Bismarck'' sank ''Hood'' in eight minutes should not be taken as proof of its utter superiority. ''Hood'' was an old ship with thin armor that hadn't seen a significant update in years; this is kind of like someone bragging that their brand-new BMW is faster than their neighbor's twenty-year-old Vauxhall Astra. It also isn't surprising that it beat ''Prince of Wales''; that ship was fresh out of the yards, with all the attendant teething problems thereof, and there were civilian technicians aboard calibrating its guns even as it went into battle. Also, any idea that ''Bismarck'' could have singlehandedly won the war is dubious at best and laughable at worst. There is no way that ''Bismarck'' would have been allowed to roam free for three months; the Royal Navy was stretched thin, sure, but as already noted above, killing ''Bismarck'' was a top priority for them, especially after ''Hood'' was sunk. They would have (and did) devoted whatever resources were necessary to sinking it. Moreover, ''Bismarck'' was under strict orders not to engage any major enemy warships unless it was absolutely necessary to sink a convoy. There proved to be a damn good reason for this, because ''Prince of Wales'' put a hole through ''Bismarck'''s bow that breached its forward fuel tanks and flooded several key compartments, forcing its admiral to call off the mission and head for France. Thus, its greatest and only victory also forced it to abort its mission before it had seen or fired a single shot at any merchant ships, meaning that it was an operational and strategic loss for the Germans. Losing ''Hood'' was a blow to British pride, but it was ultimately a relatively minor loss in the grand strategic scheme. ''Bismarck'', meanwhile, represented 25% of the Kriegsmarine’s strength in capital ships, and its sinking meant that ''Tirpitz'' and the rest of the surface fleet were confined to port for the duration of the war on Hitler's direct orders. It doesn't matter if your battleship is a one-to-one match for the enemy's battleships when the enemy has more of them and is perfectly willing to send all of them after yours to make sure it's dead; that's a losing game no matter how you slice it.

* '''''Graf Zeppelin''''': The Nazis' sole attempt at building an aircraft carrier that was a weird carrier/cruiser hybrid. Not the best idea because having the heavy guns meant it could field less planes and having fewer planes meant that it would punch below its weight in shooting matches with other surface assets, though this is theoretical. It was never completed, due to the squabbling between Göring and the Admiralty as to whose department it belonged to and the ever decreasing need of an aircraft carrier in continental Europe. Despite never being ''officially'' cancelled until the end of the war, frequent changes to the design and the planes that were supposed to be used with it as well as severe materiel shortages made sure that construction was put on hold in 1943. By that time the about 85% complete ship was moved from port to port in the Baltic Sea. The Soviets captured it in 1945, used it for target practice and ultimately sunk it in 1947 off the coast of Danzig (or Gdansk in Polish), where its wreck was rediscovered in 2006.

===Wunderwaffen===
{{Topquote|He [Wernher von Braun] aimed for the stars, but kept hitting London.|Unknown, but often attributed to American satirist Tom Lehrer}}

Of all the technology the Nazis used, the Wunderwaffen are the thing that caught the imagination of the world and started the "Superior German Engineering" meme. As a preface, civilian engineering is great in Germany. Military? Well... you'll see in a bit. This is the place any of the "Nazi Super Science" stuff goes. You want lightning guns? Wunderwaffen. Super tanks? Wunderwaffen. Moon rockets? Wunderwaffen. [[Wolfenstein|Hitler in a giant robot spider powered by the souls of the damned?]] Wunderwaffen.

A lot of people argue that things like the Wunderwaffen and to a lesser degree the Gen 3 heavy tanks like the Tiger and Panther were wastes of time, money and resources at a point where the Nazis desperately could not afford to spend all three. These same people argue that it would have been preferable to produce more Panzer IVs and StuGs then produce expensive Tigers or Wunderwaffen. The truth is, as usual, a lot more nuanced. Take a quick look at even a modern map of Europe and you will quickly see the same hard truth that has confronted generations of Holy Roman/Prussian/German/Nazi/NATO strategists: Germany is small. It simply doesn't have the same kind of territory and resources at its disposal that Russia or America have. They could ''maybe'' match England or France one-on-one, but both had global empires that when factored in meant that Germany was dwarfed in the resource game (hence why trying to blockade England into submission was such a critical part of their strategy during both world wars). There is, frankly, no way Germany could ever have produced enough tanks to match the hordes of Shermans or onslaught of T-34s that the Americans and Soviets produced, and there was also no way for them to keep all those tanks fueled. It is with this mindset that one can understand the reason for the Wunderwaffen and Gen 3 heavy tanks. If there is no way to produce as many tanks as your enemy, your only option is to pack so much power into each individual war machine that they can achieve favorable kill/death ratios to make up the difference. At the core, it's Space Marine logic, a few stronger units outfighting many times their number. (This was also the idea Japan had, since they faced the same problem as Germany; unfortunately for them, their industrial infrastructure was even more gimped and dysfunctional than Nazi Germany's, and the result was that while they produced some absolute units like the Mitsubishi Zero, the Long Lance torpedo, and the ''Yamato'' and ''Musashi'', they could never hope to match America's productive capacity when it got going.)

When put that way, it makes the Wunderwaffe sounds like a good idea in theory. In practice they turned out not to be, due to many different factors, including technical limitations that could not be overcome with the available equipment of the time and sheer nepotism and human stupidity (more on this below). It is indeed true that the different wonder weapon projects were on the bleeding edge of their epoch's technology when envisioned, next generation devices which most of the scientists of other nations had been thinking about/started to toy with, but had yet to reach the prototype stage, much less mass production. Yes, the Germans pioneered a lot of things that were afterwards [[Blood Ravens|acquired and adapted]] by the Allies and the Soviet Union. The problem was, at the start of the war, the technology to make said Wunderwaffen '''efficient''' weapons (a real guidance system for the V1 and V2, for instance, and a decent fuel valve for V-1s to avoid engine death after a hundred turns) simply wasn't there yet, and once the war got into full-swing and the attendant drain on fighting a multi-front war along with the effects of Allied strategic bombing became dominant, the Germans never managed to close the gap. All that the Wunderwaffen '''could''' have been agreed upon having accomplished is the initial psychological shock upon deployment (such as the unstoppable V-2 launches), which wasn't much of a big deal after the human mind would adapt to the new threat.

On the negative side, while the German quest for military innovation lead to a number of advances and efficient war machines that did have everyone else scrambling to catch up, most were nothing more than a drain on Germany's already limited resources. Hitler had a documented fascination with anything that screamed "German Supremacy" and was willing to throw money at any such proposal. Thus, for every successful development that led to something like the Messerschmitt Bf 109 (which was a very good plane and a potential game changer); you had more half-successes like the Tiger/VK3X.XX series/Ferdinand-Elefant/... (which were decent enough machines in the field but were horribly costly and maintenance-intensive) and all the associated waste of time and resources that went into completely hare-brained projects like the ''Ratte''. Later on, once the multi-front war turned against Germany, it turned into an arguable desperation for something, anything to one-shot win-the-war. As you can imagine with four hands strangling Germany, one smelling of vodka, one of bourbon and apple pie, one of tea and gin and the last of white bread and frog legs, these weapons were developed and produced with a shortage of resources and time and the lack of quality only exacerbated their various shortcomings and strained an already breaking economy. They were rather dismissively called "voo-vah" by Allied troops, and they allegedly thanked Hitler for ultimately shortening the war by authorizing their construction and wasting Germany's precious time and resources. Perhaps ironically, the Wunderwaffen did help to shorten the war, since those resources may have been better used on propping up a failing wartime economy, or building "boring but effective" war materiel. As with anything on this wiki, YMMV and you're encouraged to do your own research (and find a lot of really interesting stories in the process; did you know that at point-blank range, the standard 88mm AP round could rip a furrow through the entire length of the roof of a M4 turret, peeling open the steel like a centre-parting in hair? SCIENCE!)

It's worth noting here that the Germans and the Allies (particularly the Americans) devoted equally insane amounts of resources to developing crazy sci-fi weapons during the war; the course of post-war history shows which side bet on the winning horses. While the Germans farted around with jets and giant cannons, the Americans were conducting the Manhattan Project and creating nuclear weapons, (and building the B-29 Superfortress, a plane so advanced that it cost just as much as the bombs it would deliver to Japan). Ultimately, the Germans' wide-reaching experimentation was a classic example of crippling overspecialization, developing dozens of potentially war-winning technologies and giving none of them the attention they needed.

* '''V1 flying bomb:''' The V1 is considered as an early version of the cruise missile and was used in the bombing of England, since a city was pretty much all they COULD accurately hit (and even then). The V1's used an early version of a pulse jet and they were quickly called "buzz bombs," "doodlebugs," or "farting furies" to discourage people from calling them "robot bombs," which gives the impression that they were unstoppable. Fun fact about the V1: it uses the same fuel as a [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bombardier_beetle type of beetle] uses to defend itself. It was infamously known for cutting its engine as it dived (due to a fuel flow error), leading to it suddenly becoming silent just before it smashed into the ground. Its entire "guidance computer" was nothing more than a simple gyroscope system to keep it level and flying, plus a small spinning propeller in the nose that would set the flaps to dive the V1 into the ground once it revolved a certain amount of times (calculated to have covered the distance to the target city). Far too inaccurate to be used against a military target, the V1 was ultimately a gigantic waste. After the war though, with American and Soviet resources and improved controls, it founded the basis of modern tactical bombardment. Strategic? See right below.
*'''V2 rocket:''' The V2 was the world's first ballistic missile and spacefaring craft. The scientists that developed it, including Wernher von Braun, went on to work for NASA and developed the booster rockets on the Saturn V launch vehicle (so Nazi science really did put a man on the moon in the end). Unlike its brother the V1, it was utterly unstoppable by AA; not a single inbound V-2 was ever shot down by antiaircraft fire, owing to it moving at 3 times the speed of sound. As detailed in Thomas Pynchon's novel ''Gravity's Rainbow'' (the book's name referring to the ballistic trajectory of the rockets), the V-2 brought a new terror to late-war London: as the rockets impacted well beyond the speed of sound, the first sign of an attack was an explosion on the ground, ''followed'' by "a screaming across the sky." It was the first vehicle to ever reach space (but not the first object, that honor falls to Imperial German artillery in WW1, specifically the Paris Gun), from a vertical test launch in 1943, and after the war it was very frequently reused by the Americans (with extra shit often strapped on top) as an early spacecraft, with grainy images returned from suborbital flights in space as early as 1946. Less of a waste than the V-1 but even so, without a decent guidance system it had a hard time hitting England as well as the dubious distinction of being the only weapon which killed more people in its manufacture than it did enemies. (It achieved this distinction by being constructed in concentration camps, where prisoners' lives were freely exchanged for productivity. It's worth remembering that many of the "good" Germans that came to the US and NASA had to ''literally'' step over corpses to get to their Nazi rocket factories during the war.) By some measures the V2 cost as much for the Germans as the American Manhattan project: we leave it the reader to speculate who got the better deal.
*''' Ruhrstahl X-4 and Panzerabwehrrakete X-7 Rotkäppchen rocket:''' The X-4 and X-7 were the first wire-guided missiles (by which they were guided by electrical signals sent down guidance wires spooled out behind the rocket in flight) to be developed, and an example that in some cases Wunderwaffen really did point the way to the future.
* '''Horten 229 and Horten 18:''' Commonly known as the "Nazi stealth fighter," this twin-turbojet flying-wing fighter was found in a secret workshop hangar by invading American forces. Nobody knows for certain if the Horten 229 was originally built for stealth, but its all-wood construction and smooth radar-fouling shape, coupled with what was claimed to be radar-absorbing paint on the outer shell, makes a fairly clear case for a stealth aircraft (Though [[Wikipedia:de Havilland Mosquito|the Allies had already been fielding wooden aircraft for years]] and the Germans knew radar worked poorly on them, as well as the "radar absorbing paint" being tested by Lockheed and being found to have no appreciable effect on radar returns). The concept that the 229 was build around was the "3x1000": 1000kph, 1000km range, 1000kg bomb payload. This, in 1943. During test flights, it outperformed the Me. 262 while using exactly the same engines. It was probably going to be used to fly through or knock out the British radar array in a second, never-realized "Battle of Britain 2: Electromagnetic Boogaloo." The Horten 18 was an even bigger flying wing, with a huge wingspan and 6 jet engines. This one was designed to be an intercontinental bomber, intending to hit American cities as the Western Front made Hitler [[rage|angrier and angrier]]. The Horten 18 was never built, but the 229 was rather successfully test flown. Both planes looked quite a bit like the modern B2 stealth bomber, which isn't much of a surprise considering the Americans hauled the Horten 229 prototype back home to be studied in a secret Air Force base (where it is today).
**The reason the Horten's design belongs under the Wunderwaffen entry and not up in Aircraft is the following: it simply wouldn't have worked with 1940's technology. Even though tailless gliders weren't particularly harder to fly than 'regular' ones and the powered prototype was flown successfully a couple of times; testing after the war demonstrated that the time's stabilizing hard-/software was simply not up to the task of preventing fatal losses of control on tailless airframes (and especially within the context of a military operation). It took 50-odd years and ''a lot'' of technological improvements for its spiritual (hah!) [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northrop_Grumman_B-2_Spirit successor] to be successfully fielded in operation.
[[File:Maus_Trials_1944.png|350px|thumb|right|[[Approved_anime#Gaming_anime|Panzer vor]], motherfuckers.]]
* '''''Maus'':''' The ''Panzerkampfwagen VIII Maus'' ("mouse") is the largest tank ever built. A 200 metric ton monster with a 128mm (5 inch) main gun and a 75mm co-axial gun in the turret, it crept along at a blistering 13 kph and sucked down liters of gas per kilometer. The most amazing thing is that (beyond not cancelling the project on sight like anyone withing hailing distance of sanity would) ''they actually managed to build this tank''. Five were ordered, but only two prototypes and one turret were built. It was originally going to be called the ''Mäuschen'' (Little Mouse), but because the Germans liked schadenfreude more than irony, just ''Maus'' stuck. Realistically, no Allied tank then in existence would have had the firepower to penetrate the Maus; only high-caliber antitank guns and artillery fire would have done the job. However, it was so big that there was no road or bridge sturdy enough to take it, so it had to have special snorkeling gear to get past rivers. Its sheer size and painfully slow top speed would have made it prime bait for bombers (which is one of the reasons why modern militaries don't use heavy tanks anymore). While neither side had antitank weapons strong enough to penetrate its armor, it's more then likely that it would never have gotten there even if it was built. It's not quite a [[Baneblade]], but they were getting there. The Nazis really didn't want anyone to get this monster, so they blew up the complete first model. The second Maus, armed with the first one's turret, was towed back to Russia by invading forces, and currently resides in the Kubinka Tank Museum for all to see.
* '''''Ratte'':''' The ''Landkreuzer P. 1000 Ratte'' ("Rat") was an even larger tank, or "land cruiser", since it was essentially the main turret of a naval warship on tracks. Never actually built, despite being ordered looked into by Hitler. How did this come about? Simple: when the battleship ''Gneisenau'' was retrofitted with [[DAKKA|even bigger guns]], the Germans were left with a set of nine 28-cm guns they didn't really know what to do with. So, after a couple rounds of schnaps, some madlad at Krupp wondered out loud: "They're there, they're still good; sure they weigh 50 ton apiece, but why not try to make them mobile?" The poor guy was probably thinking of a form of railway gun (who despite their shortcomings were effective weapons in their own right, and a 280mm gun-train was far from the biggest ever built). Then the mustachioed guy got wind of the idea and... [[derp|it sorta grew out of proportion.]] [[Wat|The Ratte was to be a 1000 metric ton tank, mounting a naval turret with two 280mm guns, a 128mm anti tank gun, eight 20mm FlaK cannons, and two 15mm aircraft cannons]], surpassing even the Eleven Barrels Of Hell of the Baneblade. It would have been so heavy that it would have destroyed every road it used, would have wrecked towns just by running through them, and it would have collapsed every bridge it crossed. It needed two U-BOAT motors to get around, or maybe EIGHT 20 CYLINDER ENGINES. Not surprisingly, Albert Speer canned the project (mostly because a single bomber dropping a 500kg bomb on top of the thing would fuck its day up immensely), which is a great shame because A. Building and maintaining such a monster would have posed a noticeable strain on Germany's logistics, thus accelerating their defeat (it would have required about six months worth of the Reich's ENTIRE STEEL PRODUCTION just to build the damm thing) and B. It would have made the most [[awesome]] museum piece in the known universe.
*'''''Karl-Gerät''''' The ''Karl-Gerät'' is one of the very few real world weapons ever built that is BIGGER then its 40K equivalent. Karl weighed 124 tons, was armed with a 60cm (24 inch) gun that fired a shell weighing more than a ton, and could hit a target between four and ten kilometers away depending on the size of its shell. This thing was the largest self-propelled gun ever made and it could give even a (admittedly small) Titan pause for thought. These things were actually used in combat to decent effect in Warsaw, but had mixed results in other deployments. It fucked up any target royally when it hit, most famously the Prudential in Warsaw, but the Gerät was so big and slow that it had to be disassembled and put on special tractor trailers to move around (one hell of a logistical operation) and and was moved any real distance by train. Its shells were carried by special turretless Panzer IIIs. Surprisingly one of these things survived the war and was captured by the Russians. It's currently in the Kubinka Tank Museum alongside the sole surviving Maus and assorted other war trophies.
[[File:Hitler-gustav-railway-gun.jpg|350px|thumb|right|If there was a fine line between [[Dakka]], [[Titan|massive overcompensation]], and [[Rape|"Holy shit, Greg! Is that a fucking landship on rails!?",]] then the Gustav sure hits the spot.]]
*'''''Schwerer Gustav'':''' An excellent example of the brilliance and impracticality of Wunderwaffen, ''Schwerer Gustav'' was a railway gun that resembled a cruiser fucking a freight train, built in the late 30s to defeat the Maginot Line. Two were built, the other called "Dora." It was a descendant of the German Empire's 1918 "Paris gun," a smaller gun ("only" 238mm) built in World War One to shell Paris from Germany, 120 kilometers away (a range so far they had to account for the curvature of the Earth when firing the damn thing). Gustav was designed to defeat any fortifications in existence; as such, it was the largest-calibre rifled weapon ever used in combat, the heaviest mobile artillery piece ever built in terms of overall weight, and fired the heaviest shells of any artillery piece. It fired 80cm (31 inch) shells, weighing 4,800kg to 7,100kg, up to 48km. The AP shells could penetrate 7 meters of reinforced concrete. It completely succeeded in its job of defeating any existing fortification, but at the same time was hilariously impractical. It required two specially-laid parallel railway tracks to move (yes, it was a railway gun too big for the railway), took 54 hours to set up for firing, and had a rate of fire of 14 rounds per day as charges had to be heated up in a special device for roughly 1 day before firing. Since building a gun that fired shells that wouldn't fit through the front door to your house wasn't excessive enough for the Nazis, plans were made to mount the Schwerer Gustav's 80cm gun on a 1,500-ton self propelled artillery platform (the ''Landkreuzer P.1500 Monster''), with two 15cm howitzers and multiple 15mm autocannons as secondary weapons. Unfortunately, both guns were scrapped near the end of the war. The Schwerer Gustav, overall, was the biggest (if the strange rocket exhaust powered V3 listed below is not counted) motherfucking gun on the planet. The weapon likely could have blown a Titan away if its shields were down, and much science-fiction set in WWII features the gun (notably, in Harry Turtledove's Worldwar series, the gun is used to blow up two landed alien spacecraft from sixty kilometers away). There is no recorded case it of successfully hitting the target (and with the accuracy of that thing it's a miracle no German forces were harmed). There is an urban legend about one AP shot detonating an ammo dump through 15 meters of water and 7 meters of concrete during the Siege of Sevastopol, but no hard proof supports it.
*'''V3''': If you thought Gustav up there was nutty, wait until you hear about the V3, a gun that was as big as a 40k Titan. The V3 was an attempt to make a gun that could shoot across the English Channel. Now, there were a number of heavy guns that could do this, including railway guns and big bunkers built with battleship guns, but they could only shoot between the narrowest point between England and continental Europe. The V3 was built to shell London from France. I said earlier it was as big as a Titan, and I was not being sarcastic, (though it would only be as big as a knight, which despite being the smallest Titan is still bloody big). From breech to muzzle, the gun was 130 meters (430 feet) long, with a bore of 150mm or 5.9 inches across. Rather then use a single big explosion to propel the shells, the V3 used rocket motors mounted in pairs, set so their exhaust would thrust a 140kg shell out of the barrel like a reverse bolter. This setup allowed it to fire a shell out to 165km and put London well in range. Of course like all of the Nazi Wunderwaffen, in practice it sounded good but was actually kinda shit. The gun was so big that it had to be built in a hill, meaning it was impossible for it to change target after being built, and after all the time you spent building the damn thing, by the time you were done it might no longer be useful to have, such as what happened during Operation Nordwind. Further even if you ignore the logistical issues, compared to other period artillery the V3 was just plain shit. The 16"/50 caliber Mark 7 guns of the ''Iowa''-class battleship had a caliber of 16 inch or 406mm and fired a shell that weighed 1,225 kg, so over twice as big around and almost exactly nine times as heavy, and the ''Iowa'' had nine of them, and it could move. To put the cherry on this dipshit sundae, by the time the first five guns were finally built to shell London, the Royal Air Force had worked out where they were and immediately destroyed them with Tallboy Earthquake bombs. If anything proves how silly the idea of Nazi Super Science is, let the fate of the V3 super gun stand testament to how many times Hitler's scientists, and Hitler himself, had been hit with the stupid stick growing up. Hitler in particular, [[Meme|who was punished by his enraged father severely]].
*'''''[https://www.science.org/content/blog-post/sand-won-t-save-you-time N-Stoff]:''''' Someday, somewhere in the ''Kaiser Wilhelm Institute'' there was an Evil Overlord that was unhappy about the quantity of flammen his flammenwerfer could werf - so he went around and took two guys named Ruff and Krug to play around with some fluorine and some chlorine. Now, if you studied chemistry, you may realize that using "fluorine" and "chlorine" in the same sentence does not spell good news for anybody, but you know, ''Nazi Evil Overlords''. What they discovered made their commissioners - yes, the same ol' boys who thought gassing millions was cool - go '''NOPE!''', and when you discover something that's too crazy even for Crazy Nazi Science standards you know you're in for a treat. Indeed, Chlorine Trifluoride (as the compound is called) proved to be pretty good in burning bunkers to the ground - and by "burning bunkers" we mean the ''whole'' bunker, as in ''it reacts with the motherfucking concrete'' - plus it doubled as a chemical warfare agent, giving off corrosive and toxic fumes. N-Stoff (translating to Substance-N; yeah, they kinda failed the naming here) burns at a raging 2400 degrees Celsius - twice the temperature of lava and almost enough to BOIL steel - and can set fire to things that shouldn't burn, like glass, wet sand (or asbestos, a.k.a. the same substance that they used to make fireproof stuff out of) and things that have already been burnt. In fact fighting the fire with water is counterproductive, the water is just more fuel and it reacts to create deadly acids and gasses. In the 1950s a ton of the stuff was spilled in a warehouse. The chemical promptly burned through a foot of concrete and three feet of gravel while releasing a deadly gas that corroded everything it came into contact with. If there ever was something like [[Dakka|Enuff Dakka]] for flamethrowers, Substance N came close to delivering it. The Nazis planned to use it in war, but were never able to produce enough of it (only a few dozen kilograms total), presumably because it kept incinerating everyone who tried to make it. It later found its use in the semiconductor and nuclear industry - after being dubbed a bit too violent to use as rocket fuel, one rocket scientist famously said that the best way to deal with a Chlorine Trifluoride accident was "a good pair of running shoes". Also, [[Sly Marbo]] uses Substance N to spice up his Catachan takeaway.
*'''E-Series''': A very obscure piece of German tank engineering history that was brought to mainstream attention by being featured in ''World of Tanks''. The ''Entwicklung'' series of tanks were pure design studies, never produced or even properly conceptualized. They were designed as an attempt to streamline tank production and as replacements for the entire tank pool of the Wehrmacht. It consisted of 5 tanks in total (E-10, E-25, E-50, E-75, E-100) with different purposes; their number corresponded with their weight class. By the time these design studies were made (around late '44 to early '45) producing an entirely new series of tanks was way beyond the capabilities of the rapidly disintegrating remains of Germany's heavy industry, so it's best not to read too much into these tanks other than them being interesting curiosities. From what was left of their reserve steel, the Germans managed to scramble together one incomplete E-100 chassis that was found by the Americans and handed over to the British, which used it for target practive and ultimately scrapped it in 1950.
*'''''Uranprojekt''''': The Uranprojekt (Uranium Project is the most literal translation) was the attempt of German scientists to create a sustainable nuclear chain reaction. This project has since found its way into popular fiction as the German attempt to create an atomic bomb, often accompanied by claims that they almost had one, but when taking a closer look, this isn't exactly the truth. The project didn't exactly go all that well. Germany suffered a major brain drain when it expelled all its Jewish scientists in the 1930s, and it had next to no access to uranium ore or materials that could be used as a moderator (like highly pure graphite or heavy water). The material problems were sort of solved when France and Norway fell into their hands, but the problems only increased from then on. The scientists were unsure what to use as fuel for the bomb, as both proposed elements (Uranium-235 and Plutonium-239) are extremely rare and need to be created artificially in breeding reactors. To put it in perspective, plutonium wasn't believed to be a naturally occurring element ''at all'' until the 1990s, and common uranium ore contains usually 2% uranium in its most stable form (U-238) and generally only 0.7% of all uranium is of the 235 variety (U-238 is much more stable than U-235 and therefore harder to split). One must also take into consideration that nuclear technology in general was in its infancy and just at the very onset of leaving the purely theoretical stage, which adds to the problems in procuring enough viable fission material outlined above. The lead scientist of the project, Werner Heisenberg, (yes, that's where the name Heisenberg comes from) also had a crisis of conscience and reduced his work on the project significantly. After the invasion of the Soviet Union, the project was abandoned by the Wehrmacht and handed over to the civilian Reichsforschungsrat (Council of Science of the Reich) because of the material expenses and the lack of results. The project experienced a significant number of setbacks, the most important of which was an explosion of a globe filled with uranium powder in 1942, which destroyed a substantial amount of Germany's uranium reserves. (The accident in question actually bears a striking resemblance to what happened in Chernobyl in 1986, thankfully only on a much smaller scale). But it didn't stop there. The Allies caught wind of the project and feared that the Germans could succeed in developing a nuclear bomb and sent commandos to thoroughly sabotage the project in a series of daring operations that make for excellent reading material. In short, all German facilities that could produce materials, together with practically any uranium and heavy water for use in the Uranprojekt were destroyed by early 1944, either through sabotage or air raids, and the project worked off remaining reserves from then on. One last experiment in Haigerloch, South Germany was conducted in February 1945 and failed in producing a nuclear chain reaction. The leading scientists were taken into custody by the Americans, others from the rank-and-file by the Soviets, where they continued their work on the Soviet Union's nuclear weapons project. The effect the Uranprojekt was more to found in the looming paranoia of the Allies, particularly the Americans, about a possible German nuclear bomb that fueled the urgency behind the Manhattan Project, with the irony being that the Germans never even came close to creating a critical nuclear chain reaction, let alone a bomb. In hindsight, the project was in fact a complete failure. All that needs to be said is that around ten different organizations were all running their own programs, one of which was the German Postal Service. And finally the final nail in the German atomic bomb project was that they were competing against the United States: not only the one industrial power not being bombed at the time, the one all set to be a super power when the dust settled. To put in perspective just how out economically gunned the Germans were: in order to make a bomb you need enriched uranium, to make that you need electromagnetic mass spectroscopy, but to make those you need copper wire to use in the magnets and a lot of it, but copper was being used to make shells and other war material. So what did America do? instead of cutting into the war production of other items they went to the treasury and borrowed 14,000 '''tons''' of '''Silver'''. Against that kind of economic power, German had a snowball's chance in hell of making the bomb first even if they were not being bombed.
*'''Die Glocke (The Bell)''': Okay, so you know the Nazi zombie craze that got started back in 1941 (seriously the first Nazi zombie film was made during WWII), and the purported occult obsession several higher-ups in the party had? This is supposedly one of the end results of that branch of pseudoscience & conspiracy level crazy. Much like the "Philadelphia Experiment" or MK Ultra, Die Glocke was supposed to be "something" that would break the laws of reality, bring back the dead, power all the factories, and mind control the enemies of the Reich, etc etc. It's also complete horseshit, apparently made up by a Polish author/journalist named Igor Witkowski, and then later popularised by a British author/military journalist named Nick Cook. Still as it has helped shape the more fantastical view of the Nazi Wunderwaffen, especially in the realm of /v/idya, and the "factual" books are a good laugh, it is worth an honorable mention.
*'''Sonnengewehr (Sun Gun)''': Slightly less fantastical than the Bell above (as in theoretically feasible but just as impossible to realize with the tech available at the time) was the Sonnengewehr, or the Sun Gun. Originally proposed in 1929 by Hermann Oberth, the Sonnengewehr was a hypothesised space station that would orbit around the planet roughly five thousand miles up, and focus the sun's light into a death ray capable of burning down cities or boiling dry the oceans using a fuckhueg reflector made of metallic sodium. While the numbers involved are probably fairly woolly given just how batshit crazy the Nazi science machine was, the scientists involved claimed that the Sun Gun could be completed within 50 to 100 years, and if you consider that we landed on the moon roughly 40 years after the first proposal of the 'sun gun', that number does check out. The "designers" at least had some sense of reality when they realized that the platform could also make for a weather satellite since it might as well have such facilities on board due to size. On an amusing sidenote, the Russians eventually demonstrated the concept was sound (if stupidly impractical for any intended purpose) with their ''Znamaya'' solar mirror prototype in the nineties. Though of course in terms of a 'super weapon', any kind of 'sun gun' fails when compared to atomic weapons, which is why despite being sound in concept nobody has actually bothered to even consider such a weapon. (though as weather manipulator? that's a different kettle of fish)

===Misc===
[[File:Stalhelm.jpg|200px|thumb|left|The Distinctive Stahlhelm. The Germans lucked out on helmet design during WWI]]
* '''''Stahlhelm'':''' The many variants of the iconic German helmet were derived from the medieval sallet and first appeared during the Great War. The purpose of these helmets was to keep shrapnel out of one's head. It was better than its contemporaries, as its design provided increased protection to the sides and back of the head. Not to be confused with the spiked Prussian ''Pickelhaube''. Used by pretty much all German infantry personnel except for the Fallschirmjäger (paratroopers), since it was impractical to jump with it. The paratroopers had a special version of the helmet that removed the front and back flanges, giving it a much more streamlined appearance. The basic design would go on to become the basis for most modern helmets, especially as the shape was well suited to wearing a headset under it.

* '''''Uniforms and Insignia'':''' As emblematic of the Nazi regime as the MP-40, the Totenkopf, and the Stahlhelm, the uniforms of the Wehrmacht and the SS are famed for their stylish yet sinister appearance. The stylishness was provided by companies such as Hugo Boss (yes, ''that'' Hugo Boss, athough he didn't design the uniform, as the design came from the SS itself, Boss was simply the biggest and most well-known contractor) who received lucrative contracts from the government to make uniforms for the armed forces, while the sinister-ness was provided by the Nazi fondness for [[Imperium of Man|eagles and skulls]] as decorative motifs and the use of black as the prewar uniform color of the SS. Several patterns of uniform were produced, but the most iconic is the M36 pattern field tunic; whenever Nazi grunts appear in a video game, movie, or TV show, odds are they'll be wearing an M36. The ''Schirmmütze'' peaked hat is equally iconic, especially when it appears with the ''Totenkopf'', the infamous skull-and-crossbones insignia. A variant known as the ''Knautschmütze'' was produced that lacked the wire stiffener of the ''Schirmmütze'' and became known as the "crusher cap"; it was especially popular with tankers who had to wear headsets over their caps. The M43 field cap was initially issued to mountain troops, and then later issued in tropical, panzer crew, and regular infantry variants; you may be most familiar with its appearance as the sexy Nazi chick's hat in the final part of ''Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade''. The Nazis pioneered camouflage clothing for infantry personnel, creating a variety of patterns, including ''Splittertarnmuster'' (splinter pattern), ''Platanenmuster'' (Plane-tree pattern, worn by the Waffen-SS), and ''Leibermuster'' (Leiber pattern), the latter of which inspired the iconic ERDL camouflage uniforms used by the US Army, Marines, and Special Forces in Vietnam. Following in the footsteps of the Reichswehr, the Wehrmacht used a system of colored trim and piping on uniforms to indicate a soldier's branch of service, known as ''Waffenfarbe'', or "corps colors". There were colors for every possible branch from infantry to engineers to war correspondents and veterinarians (on a side note, ranks were a confusing mess with among other weirdness had a special inbetween grade specifically for fortress engineer and farrier NCOs above all other enlisted specialists); some of the most common were white (infantry), golden yellow (cavalry, reconnaissance), meadow green (panzergrenadiers), and rose-pink (panzers). The Nazis also inherited the ''Totenkopf'' from the Reichswehr, who in turn had used it because of its long association with elite units in the Prussian and Imperial armies, so the Nazis adopting it was probably inevitable. It became the official insignia of the SS and was worn by both regular army and Waffen-SS panzer crews, [[Fail|which led to a lot of army tankers being shot on sight by Allied soldiers who assumed they were SS]].

*'''''Stielhandgranate'':''' Often called "stick grenades" or "potato mashers," these are those grenades on sticks you always see the Germans using. Used by popping off the metal cap at the end of the stick, giving the cord which doubled as a fuse a good yank, and throwing it at your target (of course, before the fuse went off). The Stielhandgranate is what is called a "offensive" grenade, known nowadays as a "concussive" grenade. The difference is that an offensive grenade uses explosive pressure waves to kill an enemy, thus allowing you to use it while advancing without getting a face full of shrapnel, while a defensive grenade (like the US "pineapple" grenade) uses shrapnel to kill an enemy, affecting a much larger area but also putting you in the blast radius, hence they were designed to be thrown over the wall of a foxhole or trench line at advancing enemy troops while you keep your head down. The reason the Stielhandgranate had the stick was to give more leverage when throwing it as compared to a round grenade. It actually worked pretty well, but nonetheless history moved past the concept and grenades on sticks didn't keep.
**'''''Geballte Ladung'':''' Take your grenades off of their sticks, wrap them all up around one stick grenade, and tie them around it with something. You see, as the Stielhandgranate was basically just a head of TNT lit up after the fuse at the end of the stick reached the explosive filler in the head, cramming more of these explosive heads around one will lead to a bigger boom when that one goes off, like planting more TNT on the same detonation location will, though the added weight would reduce the range advantage of hurling it by the stick and made it harder to carry them en masse (regular Stielhandgranates were only barely harder to attach to someone than actual sticks and soldiers could easily cram them just about anywhere on their person). This "bundled charge" was improvised for use against harder targets, like armored vehicles (though it didn't take long in World War II for this to become useless against tanks) and buildings. Six/Nine explosive heads fit nicely when tied around one stick grenade's head on the horizontal plane parallel to the head's circular ends, which was the usual upper limit for this improvisation, though logically it would be quite possible to tie even more around the grenade while making it even more difficult to throw and making it more resemble an explosive charge that you can't expect to throw very far with a stick in it.

*'''''Nebelwerfer'':''' A family of weapons whose very name means "Fog/Mist Thrower"; they were listed as smokescreen launchers before the war to get around the Treaty of Versailles, but in truth were rather deadly artillery pieces designed to deploy chemical munitions; though barring a few isolated instances on the Eastern Front, chemical weapons were never used in any meaningful capacity during the war, likely because Hitler had survived gas attacks in the last war and drew the line at using them himself, along with the fact that using chemical weapons would invite retaliation in kind. These types of weapons included some mortars, but more importantly, rocket artillery. Between the wars, there was a fair bit of interest in new rocket designs, as conventional artillery was either strictly regulated or forbidden by the Treaty of Versailles, and the Nazis knew they had a use for that. These rockets were inaccurate, but you could easily fire a whole bunch of the things off at once for a good saturation bombing, though thanks to the smoke you had to scoot away afterwards or the other side would drop their own artillery right on top of you. The rocket based system made a very distinctive sound. The Germans nicknamed the thing "Heulende Kuh" (Bellowing Cow) and US troops would come to call them "Screaming Mimi" and "Moaning Minnie".
**In the later phases of the war, the Germans would also mount the launcher onto a half-track and designate it a "Panzerwerfer" (Armored Thrower). In many ways a German analogue to the BM-21, the Panzerwerfer saw intensive use during the Battle of the Bulge.

*'''Goliath:''' A remotely controlled mini-vehicle on treads, stuffed full of explosives. They were driven up to an enemy tank or a bunker and then blown up. (Games Workshop stole the idea and design for the Imperial Guard [[Cyclops Demolition Vehicle|Cyclops]].) Good idea, but the execution was lacking since Radio Control wasn't good enough yet. They had a cable like some sort of bargain remote-controlled car which limited their range dramatically, and cutting this would utterly defeat the weapon. (At least it's not as bad as the Russians and their kamikaze dogs which they trained to run under tanks, that is, THEIR OWN TANKS, but I digress...) On the flip side, American soldiers often made great fun with captured Goliaths by riding them around as the tiny thing could carry quite a load.

*'''[[Flamethrower|Flammenwerfer]]:''' A werfer zat werfs flammen. Your standard flamethrower in both name and function, though there wasn't much use for it, as there were no real trench battles like in WWI where people sat in <s>comfy</s> little (hell) holes and took potshots at each other. This is not to say they weren't used, but unlike the trench wars of WWI most of the fighting was mobile rather than static. For added nastiness, some bigger ones were mounted in Flammpanzers, able to shoot hundreds of liters of sticky, burning fuck you over distances exceeding 50 meters. Getting issued one was generally regarded one of the least desirable jobs on all sides of the war. Flamethrower operators were prime targets for reasons that should be obvious, but because they were bringers of an especially unpleasant kind of death, everyone shot them on the spot when they surrendered. It also bears mentioning that actually firing a flamethrower is a ''very'' unpleasant sensation. Some veterans of WWII battles where they were used are known to have mentioned that [[Grimdark|they can't stand the smell of roast pork anymore]].

*'''8.8cm flak gun:''' Known as the "Acht-Acht", this is THE German gun of WWII, and it sums up the German experience in the first part of the war: never being truly ready, but very clever and doctrinally flexible. The 88mm was designed as an anti-air weapon (Flak standing for ''Fliegerabwehrkanöne'', or AA gun) built to throw a high explosive shell as high into the air as it could so that it could explode somewhere in the same ballpark as the enemy plane and put one piece of shrapnel into something important and bring it down, which is a role it performed throughout the war. However against heavy Allied tanks such as the British Matilda 1 and French B1, the German tanks of the time had no ability to penetrate their frontal armor. The 8.8 cm flak gun, however, were able to deal with enemy tanks at unparalleled ranges, thanks to the high muzzle speed required to fire their explosive shell so high into the air. So the guns were pulled to the front by a certain Erwin Rommel during the battle of Arras, the barrels lowered, a French-British tank-heavy counterattack stopped, and it snowballed from there. In case you're wondering, the reason why the 88s had antitank rounds was because they had a secondary role in busting enemy bunkers and fortifications, hence why an ANTI-AIR gun had an AP round. Germany quickly pushed to have both a proper PaK version of the 88 (Pak standing for ''Panzerabwehrkanöne'', or AT gun) that had a lower profile, was easier to move around and had a shield to stop stray bullets from decimating the crew. They also started designing a tank armed with the 88mm as it became clear that the tanks they were fighting were only going to get stronger, which is why the Tiger I is a metal slab with a huge gun: its job was to get an 88mm gun into the battlefield as fast as possible. Using AA guns as AT guns was such a good idea that the US did the same thing with their 90mm AA gun, converting it into the primary armament for the M36 tank destroyer and the Pershing tank, and so did the Russians with their 85mm gun for the upgunned versions of the T-34 and KV-1. The Imperial Guard Basilisk cannon looks almost exactly like the Flak 88.

*'''2 cm Flak 30/38/Flakvierling:''' Remember the "Acht-Acht"? Now add two of these smaller guns to each flak 88 site, hill, hedge, ditch and rooftop in Europe and watch the fireworks. The German answer to the question of "enuff dakka" in a more reasonable package than the MG42 was this little bastard, which was like an American .30 cal [[Bolter|firing explosive ''and'' armor piercing rounds]]. Obviously devastating to infantry and aircraft, it even rained sufficient hailstorms of rounds that damaged and threw off approaching lightly armored vehicles enough to make a difference, and given luck, it could rip through tank tracks too. And the Germans made 150,000 of these fuckers. And those 150,000 Bolter-Expies, these unsung weapons, did more damage and inflict casualties than any other weapon during the Normandy landing and the push inland. [https://www.quora.com/In-WW2-why-did-the-Germans-never-develop-heavy-machine-guns-like-M2-Browning-for-their-half-tracks-SP-guns-and-tanks/answer/Allyson-Kliff As explained here.]

*'''Kooky Coal Chemistry:''' Germany lacked a lot of strategic resources, but if there was one thing they did have in bulk, it was coal, and by gum the Nazis did their best to make the most of it. Germany had been a leader in industrial chemistry well before Hitler came to power, but the prospect of independence from foreign imports was like catnip to ultranationalist wack-a-doodles such as the Nazis. German companies worked out ways of making gasoline, rubber, lubricants, and even freakin' margarine from coal. However a fair number of these methods were also rather expensive and needed a lot of resources to work (using 4.5 tonnes of coal to make 1 tonne of gasoline), with only synthetic rubber catching on in the postwar period (so much so that Standard Oil of New Jersey, who had the exclusive rights to make the synthetic rubber in the US stemming from an odd business deal struck in the 20s was basically forced via presidential decree to make the process common knowledge) and the South Africans using coal hydrogenation during the apartheid era because of sanctions.

*'''Kriegslokomotive (War Locomotives)''': Also known as Kriegslok. During the 1930s the Nazis cut funds and resources to the German State Railways/Reichsbahn while increasing it's workload, running it ragged. It got so bad that they only kept things going by plundering most of France's railways for locomotives and rolling stock. Eventually they found a solution: make lots of really stripped down simplified locomotives with a short lifespan that would be good enough for the length of the war. Like many things the Nazis made, lots of these were built by Slave Labour.

*'''The S-mine:''' The Sprengmine (jumping mine), or, to use the name US soldiers gave it, "Bouncing Betty", was one of the most widely used and most effective weapons of its class. When triggered, it 'bounced' about three feet into the air before exploding at about waist height in an 'air burst', able to inflict casualties (the military definition of the word meaning more then just dead) at up to 140 feet. And it had a tendency to not kill you, but maim you. [[Grimdark|A deliberate decision, as the Nazis estimated that a wounded soldier takes up a lot more resources than a dead one.]] Later in the war, some were made out of glass and even pottery, with minimal metal parts, to make them even harder to find. Suffice to say they still haven't found all of them... 1.93 million S-mines were made and it was widely copied after the war. The damn things are still killing people to this day as old mines are stepped on and the explosive proves itself still good. While the S-mine is hardly unique in that regard (unexploded US aircraft bombs and shells make up the bulk of what they still find in Germany, around 2,000 pounds per year according to the Smithsonian) land mines, like the S-mine, are still dug up by the truckload in North Africa.

*'''Pervitin:''' Not a traditional weapon as such, but a key element in why the Nazis' blitzkrieg tactics were so effective. Pervitin was a methamphetamine drug that provided the base recipe for today's crystal meth and which was distributed to all members of the Nazi military. Its powerful stimulant effect enabled the German infantry to fight harder for longer and was essential in the breakneck races from the border to the battlefield. With all of the line troopers hopped up on this drug, which later incorporated cocaine for increased effectiveness, Nazi forces could keep fighting effectively well after their enemies were worn out. At least until their supply lines were cut and addiction/withdrawal symptoms crippled them all, that is. The use of Pervitin was cut drastically after the France campaign for that reason (and for fear of long-term side effects, especially when discipline issues started mounting), though many pilots and tank crew members still used it readily, especially during Stalingrad (with the hilarious side effect of turning into an on-the-spot popsicle when the crash came). It could also be issued for important operations. The idea that all Wehrmacht soldiers were drooling junkies is funny, but wrong. It has a fascinating legacy that lasted much longer than the Third Reich did. The Bundeswehr and NVA (Armed forces of Communist East Germany) kept stockpiles of it well into the '70s for emergency use and for paratroopers, as did the US Army in Vietnam. The first climb of Mount Everest in 1953 also saw extensive use of Pervitin and President John F. Kennedy used it to treat his chronic back pain.

*'''''Hs 293 & Fritz-X'':''' Another German WWII oddity, the Hs 293 and Fritz-X were basically remote-controlled bombs and the grand-parents of modern precision-guided ammo. In an effort to improve bombing accuracy without having to dive at the target, they came up with this idea: take a huge bomb, add small wings with control surfaces, actuators, a radio receiver and a big flare up the bomb's arse so the bombardier can see where it's going (and a rocket booster in the case of the Hs 293); and then add a radio transmitter with a joystick in the airplane so the bombardier can correct its descent. There you go, highly precise steerable bomb. It actually worked really well, but not without drawbacks: drop altitude was limited, since the bombardier needed to keep a line of sight on the flare, like all radio transmission it could be jammed and lastly the bomber had to remain in level flight during the bomb's entire descent to allow the bombardier to steer it. Ultimately the bombs only saw limited anti-ship use, the combination of limited drop altitude and level flight made the bomber a way too easy prey for any fighter defending its target. Still, they were pretty efficient weapons in the right circumstances as the ''Roma'', the ''Littorio'' and the ''Warspite'' can attest to.

*'''Kettenkrad (Sd. Kfz 2)''': Those stylish tracked motorcycles were built as a light general-purpose platform that could do basically anything, from reconnaissance to lying down telephone and radio cables and towing light antitank guns and artillery pieces. A very solid design in general, it was very maneuverable for its weight, had great off-road capabilities and was very easy to drive; if you knew how to drive a motorcycle you could drive a Kettenkrad. This was achieved by a rather complex steering gear that used the front wheel to steer it when making turns of about 8°, when making sharper turns a mechanism slowed down one of the tracks. It remained in production and use throughout the entire war and even after it, as its engine was about on par with that of a small tractor and decommissioned Kettenkrads quickly proved a popular and cheap asset for farmers, foresters and even firefighters in Germany after the war. It was so popular, in fact, that production of new Kettenkrads was only ceased in 1951, making it, the Gewehr 98, Volkswagen, and a version of the MG-42 the only pieces of German military engineering whose production run outlived the Nazi regime.

*'''Kübelwagen''': In the 1930s, there were not many cars in Germany. With domestic production being pretty low, the Nazis thought that it would be a big propaganda boom if they could fix that. As such they gathered up a bunch of German engineers to try to design a car that was A: reasonably comfortable, B: got good fuel economy and C: was cheap and easy to mass produce so that the Average Aryan Arbeiter could afford one and began building a factory to mass produce them. This People's Car was the first iteration of the Volkswagen Beetle, with production beginning in 1938 to much fanfare. But in truth only a small number of them were made as civilian cars by the Reich and those that were made were given away to party members as presents. More of them however were converted into Kübelwagens, the Nazi equivalent to the [[Jeep]].

*'''''Zimmerit''''': Ever wondered why so many WWII German tanks look like someone covered them in putty and hence why they're such a bitch to model? This stuff is the reason. ''Zimmerit'' was a thick paste consisting of barium sulfate, polyvinyl acetate, zinc sulfide and some filling material that was applied at the end of tank production in thick layers with spatulas, giving it its distinct look. ''Zimmerit'' served as a reliable protection against magnetic anti-tank grenades like the German ''Hafthohlladung'' or . . . nothing. No other nation other then Germany deployed a magnetic anti-tank mine during the war, though concerns that the Hafthohlladung could be easily copied made the idea of Zimmerit a decent idea at the start of the war. However rumours about it igniting after sustaining hits lead to an order to cease production and application of the stuff on tanks. The rumours were never proven, but applying the stuff took days at best and by 1944 the German High Command didn't really want to bother with it anymore, especially since rocket propelled antitank weapons like the bazooka had made magnetic mines obsolete anyway.

*'''Jerry Cans''': Yes, the instantly recognizable jerry can is in fact a German invention, which given that the Germans were derogatorily known as 'Jerrys' does make a lot of sense in hindsight. Designed by Wehrmacht engineers in the late 1930s as an improvement over their predecessors, which required special tools and funnels to fill, a task that was tedious and took up a lot of time, not to mention how bulky they were. The perfection of the jerry can design cannot be understated; it's easy to stack, fill, takes up fairly little space and you can carry around a lot of them. The Germans were aware they had struck logistical-design gold and troops were under orders to destroy their cans rather than risk their capture, but unfortunately for them the design was brought to the Allies' attention when the American Paul Weiss traveled with a German friend through the entirety of India and realized that his modified car had no storage for reserve water. His German friend, who happened to have access to the a stockpile of jerry cans, brought them with him on the tour (though also fortunately for the Germans, it wouldn't be until 1943 that any of their enemies would mass-produce the can). After the tour, Weiss shared the design with the American military, who reverse-engineered the thing and issued it to every motorized company in the US Army.

*'''The Gas Chambers''': Industrialized Evil: One of the darkest inventions of the Nazis, the gas chambers were used to facilitate mass genocide on an industrial scale, human sacrifice on the level of factory farming. Anyone the Nazis deemed "undesirable" were sent to be executed regardless of age, although those capable of sustained labor were worked ragged first in camps before being sent to their deaths. Jews and Romani, Africans, educated Slavs, physically and mentally handicapped people; if you didn't fit into Adolf Hitler's insane dream of an All-Aryan Ubermensch World, you were sent to die a horrid death by Zyklon-B. The gas chambers were the result of a concerted effort to find the most efficient way to kill large numbers of humans covertly and with minimal involvement. At first, the victims of the Holocaust were simply lined up and shot by ''Einsatzgruppen'' death squads, but that was too messy and was deemed to hard on the men doing the butchery. Vans with the exhaust funneled into the rear compartment were used next, but these were seen as too costly in terms of fuel and machines. They finally hit on the idea of stationary extermination facilities using rat (and delousing- Zyklon B was first developed for killing lice in barracks) poison, and built them in concentration camps that were designed to kill as many people as possible as quickly as possible. The prisoners were ordered to strip and told that they were to be deloused and given a shower prior to their work assignments. Once inside the chambers, the Zyklon pellets were dropped in, killing the screaming, terrified victims within 20 minutes. The chambers were vented, the bodies removed to crematories, and the process begun all over again. A cold and chilly logical methodology to achieve the goals of rampant hatred.

== C3i Waffen ==

Not exactly their strongest area...

*'''Enigma:''' Enigma was a communications scheme based on a sophisticated but easy to use electromechanical encryption/decryption device resembling a cross between a typewriter and an odometer. When used with proper procedures it was the one of the most secure means of communication available in the world for its time, offering effectively 76 bit encryption with 1920's technology in a device that was superior to anything the allies had. SIGABA was comparably secure but far heavier and fragile, and the M-209 was far inferior in both ease of use and encryption strength (although it was still adequate). However the combination of lax discipline, reuse of settings, and notes from a polish customs inspection of an enigma device resulted in the technology being reverse engineered and cryptographic attacks being discovered. Only Kriegsmarine communications remained difficult to decrypt by the end of the war, due to their practice of using secret codebooks to further compress their messages prior to encryption. Has become known for being completely cracked by a British team led by a gay man, only for him to be arrested and almost chemically neutered before committing suicide. Because yes, back then potentially saving the lives of hundreds of thousands did not make up for liking the dick.

*'''Bombing Beams:''' Wouldn't you know it, the Instrument Landing System used today at pretty much every major airport was originally invented to 'land' bombs on London in the middle of the night when the lights are out. By using narrow radio beams the Nazis could steer bombers to a precalculated drop point. All the pilots had to do was maintain a certain speed and altitude, and then drop their bombs when the signal detector said they should... except when the British were fucking with them. Towards the end they were fucking with them so hard German bomber pilots were landing at RAF bases believing they were in France. When it actually worked, such as at Coventry, it was more accurate than daytime saturation bombing, with most bombs falling within 90 meters of the beam centerline. This system is why Nazi bombing raids tended to less of a brief swarm like the allies used and more of a continuous bomb conveyor belt lasting most of the night; they would line up single file along the approach beam, and then after they hit the drop beam they'd change altitude, turn around, follow the beam back across the channel; no visibility needed. The British figured this out and started using their television antennas (which had far greater power output) to mess with the system. If the Nazis had continued to improve this technology with ECCM and built a lot more bombers instead of squandering money on Wunderwaffen, they probably would have won the Battle of Britain (even then, Göring would have found a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory).

*'''Tank Radios:''' While today we take it for granted that any trooper anywhere in the galaxy could get a call from the emperor himself to execute order 66, this wasn't always the case. Throughout the 1930's, all German armored vehicles had radios, while their opponents would typically only have a radio for the unit commander. This was an enormous advantage for Nazi tank units that remained the case basically until America showed up. The Nazis also had the Torn.Fu.d2, a backpack portable infantry radio comparable to the American SCR-300, although they didn't distribute them as widely as the Americans did. This was an organizational thing; Germany dealt with communications by assigning a signals battalion to each division and delegating resources as needed, while the Americans always had radios at company level and sometimes had SCR-536 handy-talkies for individual platoons, the ideal being that every American officer's best ''weapon'' was their radioman. The main problem the Germans had with radios was that lots of American soldiers were fluent in German (and German isn't that different from English to begin with).

*'''Zuse Z3''': Lo and behold, for you look at the very first freely programmable digital computer in the world. Completed by Mathematician and Electronics Engineer Conrad Zuse in 1941, it was kept in extreme secrecy, so much so that it was rarely put into use. The rare times it was used, its purpose was to calculate trajectories for V2 rockets. Zuse advocated for its use in the war effort, but the original (and at the time only) device was destroyed in an allied bombing raid in 1943. Zuse built an improved successor, the Z4, just before the war came to a close. Although conditionally Turing complete, physically the Z3 was less advanced in implementation than its peers. Zuse was not able to procure thermionic components (vacuum tubes were in critically short supply for radios and radars in Germany) and so had to rely on electromechanical relays from phone switching gear; in practical terms this meant that the Z3 ran much slower than even purpose built non-Turing complete calculators such as the Atanasoff-Berry or the Colossus. The Z3 itself received little immediate recognition outside of Germany partly because of the American ENIAC computer; the strict secrecy Zuse worked under lead to the Z3 falling into relative obscurity, until the invalidation of the Sperry Rand patents in the 1970's, which hinged partly on Zuse's own patents which had been licensed to IBM as early as 1946 (FYI: you're reading this page on a computer today partly because those Sperry patents died; a year later the Altair 8800 began the long road of upstart Davids bringing down industry Goliaths). Today, a replica of the Z3, built in the 70s (which the by then over 80 year old Zuse himself built alone and [[awesome|from memory]]) can be found in the German Museum in Munich. The only surviving (and probably only completed) Z4 computer was used as the main computer of the Mathematical Devision of the University of Zürich, Switzerland, until 1958, when it was sold to the German Museum in Munich where it remains to this day. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUXnhVrT4CI An example of the Z3 working can be viewed here. (Video in German, good automatic translated English subtitles are available)]
{{WW2}}
[[Category:History]]

Drawfag

2026-05-12T05:41:13Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010226 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

[[Image:MujuLolcron.jpg|thumb|The next Love can Bloom?]]

[[Image:Wtfdrawfag.jpg|thumb|Drawfag images can be perfect for Image macros.]]

[[Image:Playground.jpg|thumb|The best drawfag artwork always has little to do with canon, and more to do with being pretty.]]

[[Image:SuiseisororitasHQ.JPG|thumb|One of the earliest known examples of 40k drawfaggotry, posted on /b/ before the existence of /tg/.]]

[[Image:Band of Abberations.jpg|thumb|FUCK YEAH!]]

[[Image:How to shot animoot.png|thumb|Most drawfags stay within 1-4; the occasional weeaboo will take it farther.]]

[[Image:Peak oil stratedgy.jpg|thumb|drawinganondude's [[Stratedgy]] art.]]

A '''drawfag''' is a member of that small minority of posters who actually possess artistic talent and, better yet, use it to produce and post relevant images. /tg/ has an extremely large population of active drawfags compared to most other 4chan boards. This is generally held to be a good thing, but many fa/tg/uys are somewhat wary due to the tendency of some drawfags to cause drama.

Drawfags come in all styles, abilities and tastes, and usually stick to a certain topic regarding the images they produce. This sometimes causes discontent as the overwhelming majority of drawfags stick to [[Warhammer 40,000]] material, leaving relatively few who draw images relating to other topics such as [[Dungeons & Dragons]].

Threads where a drawfag is posting are typically more active, especially as posters attempt to get the resident drawfag to illustrate one of their own ideas. Sometimes drawfags will create threads specifically to take requests, which happens fairly frequently for character portraits and things like that. Threads that produce an awesome or hilarious mental image such as "''a Texan rancher stereotype mounted atop his armored, pregnant loli waifu defending a field of grazing lolis from marauding bears''" (don't ask) result in cries for a passing drawfag to create an actual image. <s>Depressingly enough</s> '''FORTUNATELY''' , these requests are rarely answered, but apparently it happens often enough that nobody ever gives up hope.

Due to the nature of drawfags, and how they always seem to work together rather than stir competition, it is believed that under the rule of Miko, the drawfags have formed a collective group with which they can underhandedly direct the flow of acceptable content in /tg/. This is known as [[The_Consortium|The Consortium]].

==How Drawfags are Born, and How they Die==

It all begins with a thread on /tg/. Could be any thread, it doesn't take much. (That said, there are regular "drawthreads" which encourage the activity of budding artists with numerous requests and little to no trolling whatsoever.)

A fa/tg/uy in possession of a tablet then enters the thread, and decides his scribbles will help contribute for him.

After having submitted their artwork, the artist notices a increase in interest in the thread, with cries of "Draw more!"

The artist continues to draw for the thread. After about the fourth image submitted, the rest of /tg/ realizes that the drawfag is still around despite attempts to troll it away, and names it.

A undetermined amount of time passes, in which the drawfag enters a large number of threads and draws in all of them, spreading his or her fame and popularity across the board.

Once over the hill in popularity, the impending death of the drawfag becomes apparent: the drawfag's ego is simply too large for good-for-nothing trolls to handle, and he or she will not consider drawing for /tg/ unless there are special circumstances or he is just asked nicely. At this point the drawfag is now dead to /tg/. All threads he or she participates in become filled with trolling attempts to remove them from the thread, in same the manner you would banish Socrates from Athens. (This stage does not always occur: occasionally the drawfag may be forced offline due to other circumstances, or may even stay at the previous stage indefinitely.)

The artist then slips into obscurity, the sup/tg/ paintchat, or retreats back to deviantART (and/or [[Tumblr]]), where they complain about /tg/'s shittiness.

==Drawfag monikers==
Unless the drawfag forces a name that they already go by, they are named by their peers according to their contributions. For example, a drawfag that draws a [[Pure Cheese|Necron]] in a couple of humorous situations is aptly named "Lolcron". Things rarely get more complicated.

===Known Drawfags===
Please do not make individual pages for them; simply list their name here.
====Old Guard====
*[http://40-kun.deviantart.com/ '''B&hammer40kun''']
*[http://www.furaffinity.net/user/oniontrain/ '''B&HAMMER(Oniontrain)''']
*[http://eccm.love-n-peace.org/ '''Chink'''] [http://www.pixiv.net/index.php?id=45427 (alt 1)] [http://eccma417.deviantart.com/ (alt 2)] (Can now be found on /vg/ over on Skullgirls General.)
*[http://nerfnow.com/ '''Jo Pereira'''] [http://jopereira.deviantart.com/ (DevArt)]
*[http://novicenoah.egloos.com/ '''Circle A''']
*[http://mr-culexus.deviantart.com/ '''MrCulexus'''] ([http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Mr.%20Culexus suptg]) ([http://mozai.com/BooneQuest/ Boonequest]) Creator of [[Cultist-chan]] and [[Commissar Raege]].
*<del>[http://drawnon.deviantart.com/ '''DrawAnon''']</del> Deactivated; creator of [[Dranon]].
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=stratedgy '''drawinganondude''']: OP of [[Stratedgy]] games, professional games/rpg artist.
*[http://gannadene.deviantart.com/ '''Gannadene'''] [https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0PaoSxEK2nEmO-Mtk2vGWA (now in YouTube flavor)] Creator of [[Commissar Fuklaw]].
*[http://thatoldrobot.deviantart.com/ '''Lolcron'''] (Dead account. Got necro’d in 2019, ironically enough, but only for one post)
*[http://jaekyu.deviantart.com/ '''Jaekyu''']
*[http://dongsdongs.deviantart.com/ '''Jeanstealer'''] (dead) [http://blueflowerwine.tumblr.com/ (alternate)]
*[http://jrinaldi.deviantart.com '''Mazed''']
*[http://ironshrinemaiden.deviantart.com '''Miko'''] (Dead Account) The origin of [[LCB]] shenanigans. Older works can be found at [http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/epic/ironshrinemaiden suptg].
*[http://muju.deviantart.com/ '''Muju'''] [http://cid-1018859a41ad3dbc.skydrive.live.com/browse.aspx/MujuCross (shared with Cross)]
*[http://ragathol.deviantart.com/ '''Ragathol'''] [http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user-spidu.php (promotions)] [http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?id=1451592 (alt)] [http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?id=316030 (alt)]
*[http://zscribe.deviantart.com/ '''Z''']

===="Recent" Lurkers====
*[http://lucid-dakou.deviantart.com/ '''Lucid / Queblock'''] [http://www.furaffinity.net/user/queblock/ (alternate)]
*<del>[http://seytii.deviantart.com/ '''Sly Mambo''']</Del> Deactivated.
*<del>[http://gasparnolasco.deviantart.com/ '''Nolasco''']</Del> Deactivated.
*[http://www.furaffinity.net/user/sildre/ '''Sildre''']
*[http://draquito.deviantart.com/ '''Draquito''']
*[http://gregmustache.deviantart.com/ '''Greg Mustache'''] Deactivated
*[http://wickedstar.deviantart.com/ '''WCKD'''] <del>[http://wickedstar.hartists.net/ (PROMOTIONS!)]</del> '''DEAD'''
*<del>[http://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=537957/ '''Deculture''']</del> '''DEAD'''
*<del>[http://morelikecg.deviantart.com/ '''Cei''']</del> Deactivated.
*[http://challengerating25.blogspot.com/ '''Ettin'''] Restricted.
*[http://deadxcross.deviantart.com/ '''Cross''']
*[http://redlife.deviantart.com/ '''Ribbonfag''']
*[http://protocol-9.deviantart.com/ '''Protocol''']
*[http://flyingdevastator.deviantart.com/ '''SlowElf'''] (Promotions!)
*[http://tonykatze.deviantart.com/ '''Fucking Liar''']
*<del>[http://basketgardevoir.deviantart.com/ '''BG / Basketgardevoir''']</del> Now AlfheimOrphan, despite new name is not involved with drawthreads
*[http://neuroticfanboy.deviantart.com/ '''steve'''] Does not draw often, usually draws girls in request threads [http://lush-artists.com/userprofile/view/Steveman'''Promotions''']
*[http://mshadowy.deviantart.com/ '''Another Generic Drawfag'''] Also known for/as "Succuboo".
*[http://scribbletist.deviantart.com/ '''The Scientist''']
*[http://grognard.booru.org/index.php?page=post&s=list&tags=greenmarine_%28artist%29 '''Greenmarine'''] Doesn't have his own gallery page. Also, PROMOTIONS!
*Journal and Diary (Custom quest-thread drawfag partners that tend to change names; can't get a lock on, sir!)
*[http://germille.deviantart.com/ '''Sir Doodlefag''']
*[https://www.tumgir.com/vanthemad '''VanTheMad'''] hasn't done anything in three years (also, he just sucked too much to draw more than one request)
*[http://johanz.deviantart.com/ '''Johanz''']
*[http://DAEMON-PATRIARCH.deviantart.com/ '''OVERLORD''']
*[http://grognard.booru.org/index.php?page=post&s=list&tags=technomancer_%28artist%29 '''Technomancer''']
*[http://realaraita.deviantart.com/'''Dan''']
*[http://computerkitten.deviantart.com/ '''kitten''']
*<del>[http://deadlymedic.deviantart.com/ '''Bane/trinket''']</del> Deactivated.
*[http://aerion-the-faithful.deviantart.com/gallery/ '''Aerion the Faithful'''], known for his work on the Primarchs and assorted 40k stuff.
* [https://www.artstation.com/mohzart '''Mohzart'''], UberHeretic Par Excellence, Made Tau Space Marines not stupid.
* [http://lutherniel.deviantart.com/ '''Luth'''] ([http://boltertokokoro.tumblr.com/ alternate]), known for [[Bolter to kokoro]]
* Kero the Rogue !P/YOqLfGLA
*[http://heavyarmorhellfire.deviantart.com/ '''Bo''']
*Lewdanon (the guy doesn't namefag and has no reliable way of contacting him, but he does some extraordinarily good lewd art, hence the name. It's been said that an uncensored Lewdanon drawing is rarer than a Black Lotus card, and no less valuable.
*<del>[http://coffeekhan.tumblr.com/ '''coffeemancer''']</Del> '''DEAD'''
*[https://guoh-art.tumblr.com/ '''Guoh'''], created the "I'm getting too chivalrous for this shit" comic which begat [[Towergirls]]
*[https://bolloxtothat.tumblr.com '''Vono''']

====Newfags====
*(Placeholder, there are plenty new ones that could be added here)

== See Also ==
*<del>[http://www.anonib.com/_drawfags Drawfags' Anonib] A makeshift archive of some drawfaggotry. Drawfags will post here when they get banned sometimes. There is a request section that is mostly ignored. MY NAME IS BUBBLE MAN AND I GOT SOMETHIN' TO SAY</del> [[What|'''DEAD.''' BANANAS ARE FAT.]]

* http://drawfagsoftg.deviantart.com/ Yeah, we have one now.

* [[Webcomics]], some of which are published on [[/tg/]] by drawfags.

* [http://grognard.booru.org/index.php?page=post&s=list The /tg/ booru], which (in theory) is where /tg/ content goes.
[[Category:Artists]]

M4 Sherman

2026-05-12T05:38:49Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010228 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{America}}

{{topquote|War is the remedy that our enemies have chosen, and I say let us give them all they want.|General William Tecumseh Sherman}}

{{topquote|Someone call the cavalry?|M4 Sherman, Company of Heroes}}

[[File:M4 Sherman.png|thumb|I can be whatever you want me to be baby.]]
The '''M4 Sherman''' is the poster child of freedom, the Freeaboo's ideal body type, and the backbone of the Western allies' armored forces. It was mass produced at a higher rate than even the Russian [[T-34]], and came out as the 2nd most produced tank of the war. It came in a dizzying number of variants, with a wide variety of weapons, engines, and even suspensions and hull types. It is one of only a few tanks to be deployed on all theaters of the war, including the Eastern Front, China, and the Pacific. It's one of the first tanks to enter service with stabilization for the main gun. It's reliable, easy to fix, ergonomic, and extremely versatile, both in Flames of War and in real life.

For all this, the Sherman tends to get a bad rep. Most of this focuses on it's armor and firepower, which is weaker than [[Panther|German]] [[Tiger|tanks]] of the later war period. We won't get into this debate here more than to say that you will have to find ways to compensate for your weaker armor and cannon when going up against German and Soviet heavy tanks as a Late War Flames of War player. However, with effective combined arms, mobile tactics, and a little bit of luck the M4 will serve you just as reliably as it served the allies in World War 2.

==In Mid War==
===American===
===British===
==In Late War==
==='''American'''===
The M4 Medium Tank is just as it was in Mid War, but this time with far better crews! The Americans get the option of "trained" M4 crews that are hit on a 3+ and have a 3+ last stand, or "Veteran" M4 crews that trade all that in for a 4+ to hit and a 3+ tactics. What really makes the M4 stand out in the American force is its 'Stabilizer' special rule. This lets the M4 maintain it's rate of fire of 2 on the move, though it suffers a -1 to hit. This gives you a higher chance of hitting a shot in almost all situations, making the American M4 the king of mobile warfare and exceptionally flexible. A second point in the Sherman's favor is the sheer number of machineguns it brings, pumping out 5 shots per tank stationary and making it very capable at pinning enemy infantry and blocking enemy infantry assaults.

The US has a few different platoons to bring their M4s in late war. The first is the Dday formations, which bring M4 Sherman and Sherman 76 platoons. Compared to the bulge platoons, the 76mm platoons are more expensive and the 75mm platoons are slightly cheaper for their value. That being said, the Dday formations are less flexible than the Bulge formations, with homogenous platoons and fewer M4 variants available.

The Bulge formations is where the Sherman really blossoms into its full potential. The US unlocks access to the Late 75mm M4, the Easy Eight, the Jumbo, HVAP ammo, and up armored M4 variants. The coolest part though is that you can mix and match any of these variants freely within a platoon, letting you essentially customize your force completely ''down to the individual tank'' (with the exception being that you can only bring one jumbo per unit, including the HQ). Do you want something to hunt heavy tanks? Boom, E8s with HVAP, maybe a jumbo. You want something a bit more durable to maybe duel with enemy heavies and mediums? Slap a Jumbo 76mm on with some 76mm M4s and add some 75mm M4s with smoke. Need something cheaper to support and flank? Bring base M4s and tack on a jumbo for some good survivability. The possibilities are truly as endless as your imagination.

First off, we'll go over some of the command card options available in the Bulge: American book. The first is HVAP. This card costs half a point per tank and boosts all your 76mm cannons to pen 13. This is practically a must take, taking your 76mm M4s from scary medium tank hunters to capable heavy tank hunters as well for a relatively trivial rise in points.

Second is the uparmored sherman. This can be added to M4 (late), M4 (76mm), and E8s on an individual tank basis. This costs a point and boosts the front and side armor by one in exchange for a -1 on its cross rating. This can really help deal with medium tanks like the Stug and Panzer IV, but still leaves you rather vulnerable to heavy AT and limits your ability to take cover from them. As such, it really depends on your local meta if you take these: if PaK 40s and stugs or other medium tanks are the thing where you're at, or if you just really like the look, then take them! If not, it's not really worth it.

====M4 Sherman====
This is the generic stat card for the M4, M4A1, and early M4A2s in US service. The base M4 Sherman is a cheap middle of the road tank with a cannon that can deal with enemy medium tanks and armor that keeps it safe against light and medium antitank guns. That said, AT10 will struggle against the side armor of 8 on heavy tanks like the Tiger and IS-2, meaning that while the 75mm is a capable vehicle in most situations, it struggles against heavy tanks. Use the maneuverability provided by the stabilizer and artillery smoke to avoid enemy heavy tanks and heavy antitank guns and focus on breaking through and exploiting enemy light vehicles and medium tanks. This is where the M4 truly shines, being cheap and mobile. In addition, it has direct fire smoke, meaning that this tank can act in support to help smoke out enemy tanks and cover your own infantry and tanks from enemy infantry and antitank guns.
====M4 Calliope====
[[File:M4 Sherman Calliope Statcard.jpeg|thumb|left|[[Exorcist Multiple Missile Launcher|"Can you hear an Organ play?"]]]]
Rocket's on a armored platform, and before you ask, sadly you can't use the gun because the rocket launcher is bolted to it.

====M4 (Late)====
This is the stat card for the later model M4A2s and M4A3s in US service. These models had their frontal armor increased to 65mm and wet stowage installed, but retained the reliable 75mm cannon. In game this gives them bonuses to frontal armor and remount, something that can really help in duels with German panzers. This tank is just as versatile and capable as the base vehicle, though without improved penetration it will still struggle to deal with heavier enemy armor.

====M4 (105)====
The [[Leman Russ Demolisher]] of the lot, the M4 (105) is the odd one out here, being essentially an artillery/assault gun variant on the Sherman. It's got an AT9, FP2+, Brutal and Slow-Firing 105mm gun as well as the FA7 of the 76mm Sherman. All in all, it's kinda hard to find a place for, trying to fill a niche that doesn't really exist. It's got the armor to go toe to toe with enemy mediums, but not the penetration. It's helpless against heavies. It's job as artillery is done better by the cheaper priest and 105mm towed artillery. It lacks the volume of fire to deal with enemy infantry platoons in direct fire. It may find a place hunting enemy light and medium AT guns, but it will get slaughtered by enemy heavy AT. It might be useful as an integrated artillery asset in an M4 tank company, but you have so many other units you can put in there, why bother. If someone comes up with a use for this thing, let me know!

====M4 (76)W====
This stat card represents the M4 (76)W, M4A1 (76)W, M4A2 (76)W, and M4A3 (76)W fielded by the US. The M4 (76) is a capable enough antitank vehicle, with a 76mm high velocity gun that bumps the antitank up to 12, wet stowage that gives it a 3+ remount, and a front armor of 7 thanks to the up armored T23 turret. This, combined with the stabilizer, makes it a capable QRF vehicle for dealing with heavy tank breakthroughs as well as the king of dueling with enemy medium tanks. It also makes it a relatively pricy vehicle, with a full veteran platoon coming in at 28 points for 5. Nevertheless, this is currently ''the'' final word in American antitank and will serve you well if used properly. Consider escorting them with some form of infantry to help assault and capture enemy tanks, because FP3+ always bails when you need it to kill and chances are you really can't afford to lose these tanks. Something worth noting is the "No HE" rule on the main gun, meaning it suffers against infantry, but if you were looking for an infantry killer you shoulda just gone with the cheaper 75mm anyway.

====M4A3E8 Easy Eight====
[[File:Sherman Ez8 Statcard.jpeg|thumb|left|[[wikipedia:Easy (Commodores Song)#Im Easy/Be Aggressive|"Cause I'm eaaaasssaayyy~!"]]]]
The E8 takes everything the 76mm does and does it better. For a point boost, it gets 2 major bonuses: a 2+ cross and smooth ride, which essentially says that as long as it moves less than 4" it fires as if it was stationary. This is essentially a '''free''' blitz move that lacks some of the major drawbacks of an actual blitz move: you can assault following it (lmao you better be desperate to assault with M4s) and you can stack it with a regular blitz move to get an 8" blitz. This makes them the unparalleled masters of terrain and reserves, with their ability to reliably traverse all kinds of terrain and shoot at full rate of fire on their first turn on the table. That said, these things come with a hefty price tag: 7 points per tank for the elite variant, as much as a Soviet IS-2 heavy tank, and its not very tough for that cost. Be careful with them, use terrain and smoke to keep them alive so they can do their job. You aren't a brainlet Soviet or German player that can just push his tanks forward and suck up shots, you're a US player, be smart about it. It's generally smart to take this variant by itself, since the other variants will often slow it down, particularly the Jumbo.

====M4A3E2 Jumbo====
One tank in each Sherman platoon may be upgraded to one of the heaviest armored tanks in the game, the M4A3E2 Sherman Jumbo. This thicc boi has front armor 11 and side armor 8 and comes in 2 variants, the 75mm and 76mm. Paired with the target allocation rules and smart use of terrain and distance, this tank can effectively halve the number of casualties you take to AT14 cannons ''at least.'' This does come with a massive drawback though: 4+ cross. This really limits your options when it comes to using terrain and advancing through walled fields, though its armor reduces your need for such cover. Consider pairing it with a lucky card to help with the occasional failed armor or target reallocation.

==='''British'''===
The US provided the British with 17,184 Sherman Tanks of all models throughout the war.

A notable British variant was the Firefly, which carried a QF 17-pounder 76.2mm cannon. Introduced in early 1944, Sherman Fireflies could pierce the armor of Panther and Tiger Tanks.

As a notable aside, it was the Brits who decided to give the M4 medium tank the official designation of Sherman.

==='''Soviet'''===
Some 4,102 Sherman Tanks were sent to the USSR as part of Lend Lease. These were notably equipped with Diesel Engines so they could use the same fuel that T-34s used. Fun fact: the Soviets that got to ride into lend-lease Shermans were full of praise about it, rating it as equal or even better than their own T-34; unlike the M3 which they called the "grave for seven brothers". The higher level of quality control also played a factor in it's success on the battlefield, with the survival rate of M4 crews being 4% higher than that of T-34 crews.

==In Real Life==
[[File:M4 Sherman IRL.jpg|thumb|"This American tub's not half bad wot?"]]

The M4 epitomizes the US Government's commitment to supplying its soldiers with massive quantities of good enough equipment. From the onset, the M4 was designed to maximize ease of repair and part longevity over all other concerns since the damn thing had to serve an ocean away from the factory making the parts for them. Mechanically, it was largely a continuation of the ''definitely not good enough'' M3, minimizing the amount of factory changes needed to produce it. Ultimately M4s would be churned out by a dozen companies with half a dozen different engine setups, ranging from V8s to twin diesels to repurposed aircraft engines. Its slab-sided high profile was a consequence of a secondary requirement that it be easily transportable by existing railroads, which initially limited its overall width to 103 inches. It is fitting then that with all these considerations in mind, most of which were pragmatic consideration for logistics of waging an overseas war, that the vehicle would be named after one of the United States' most infamously pragmatic Generals.

Contrary to popular belief, the Sherman was very much intended to fight other tanks; its original 75mm gun M3 (the same as the M3's sponson gun, but more sensibly mounted in the turret) was the best possible tank gun the Americans had at the start of the war, and projects to find a replacement began as early as 1942. The 75mm was adequate against Panzer IIIs and IVs and could perform surprisingly well against the big cats as battles like Arracourt demonstrate. 75mm HE ammo was also highly regarded for its ability to kill enemy infantry (and this ''was'' a pretty significant consideration for tankers, with one tank battalion claiming to have used 55 AP rounds in 5 months but 19,634 HE rounds during that same time), and the Marine Corps retained the older Shermans for this reason while 76mm-using Sherman's HE rounds were largely considered disappointing by comparison (containing a third less explosive filler).

Additionally, the tank was technically supposed to be capable of providing anti-air fire with the M2 Browning 50. caliber machine gun attached at the back of the turret; however, the other methods the Allies used to control the skies were working well enough that the gun in this spot was rarely used in this role. Instead, they tended to be used against infantry and light armored vehicles, with aircraft as something of an afterthought. Early variants had the M2 mounted on the rear of the turret on the principle of supporting infantry using it, but many later had it moved to the front to be fired from inside the metal deathbox by one of the crew. More so, it was just American doctrine, due to the obscene number of M2s manufactured before and during the war, to bolt the damn things onto any vehicle that could take them. This tradition continues to this day, everyone and their dog in the vehicle sections has an M2.

Early attempts to add more powerful guns resulted in extremely cramped turrets, significantly compromising the ability to lay guns and make follow-on shots. The British decided the added anti-tank ability was worth the compromises, resulting in the Ic and Vc "Firefly" tanks incorporating their massive 17 pdr gun; these were effectively ambush vehicles, and would always be incorporated into larger units with 75mm Shermans. The US would finally adapt the T23 turret (with 76mm gun M1) from the Pershing prototypes in the "easy six" conversion, although very few of these tanks arrived in Europe in time for D-Day.

Like most prewar US tanks, the Sherman incorporated a bogie suspension system, with its initial incarnation using a vertical volute spring for each bogie. This made replacement of suspension elements very easy in the field, compared to a Christie or torsion bar system or ''Gott helfe dir'', a Schachtellaufwerk system. However, the Sherman had more limited roadwheels, narrower tracks and a correspondingly higher ground pressure, making it a more difficult tank to operate in rough terrain. The US Army would attempt to mitigate this through "duckbill" end connecters, giving a somewhat wider track (the tank pictured has both a VVSS suspension and duckbills). Later, the "easy eight" modification introduced a new suspension bogie, with dual road wheels and a horizontal volute spring. The HVSS would make the Sherman more of an off-road contender, and its smoother travel allowed tanks to more effectively shoot on the move.

In spite of this, the Sherman gained a reputation for being a deathtrap on tracks that would go up in flames or explode after suffering a hit with even the Jerries being said to nickname them "Tommycookers", which had some basis due to poor storage of ammo, but later variants moved the ammo and introduced wet-ammo storage to mitigate this (In reality, most burning tanks are the result of deliberate overkill to prevent recovery). Their height tended to be a liability in open plains, making them easier to see and hit, and harder to employ in ambushes compared to casemate assault guns like Hetzers or Archers. By the end of the war the vehicle suffered against the immense number of weapons that could penetrate it, because two [[Nazi|fanatical]] [[Communism|retards]] thought that having a tank arms race was hilarious. Compare this to the Pacific Theater, where the Sherman was better than literally any of the tanks the Japanese were fielding operationally.

Shermans, being one of the most modular chassis in the entire war, had tons of variants that we won't waste your time with. Instead, we'll just focus on the two cool ones: The "105 Sherman" and the Flame variant, but we encourage you to look up "Hobart's Funnies."

Officially called the M4A3(105), the Sherman 105 is what happens when you look at the [[M8 Scott|Scott]], decide that its a good start, then proceed to shove a 105mm howitzer in the turret of a larger tank. 500 were built, and they were used in much the same role as the Scott fully replacing the [[M7 Priest]] in armor battalions. The 105 would go on to serve after his brothers had been withdrawn from US service until the end of the Korean War.

The U.S. Marine Corps, somewhat fed up with dealing with people with Katanas and bayonets at close range with flamethrowers decided to yank out the cannon and shove in a heavy flamethrower, creating an "M4 Zippo". It gave up its anti-tank capability and shared the same overall shortcomings as the conventional M4, but Marines loved this thing, because torching the enemy in their caves and bunkers with a [[Metal Boxes|MEHTUL BAWK]] was vastly better than going in after them with nothing but a shirt and a prayer between you and their bullets. Officially called the M4A3R3 because technical designations.

Despite it's shortcomings as a combat vehicle, the Sherman can easily be considered one of the "greatest tanks of WW2". Sure, it didn't fire [[Tiger|88mm shells of death over 2km]], or [[T-34|shrug off dozens of 40mm AT shells]], but no one can deny that it fulfilled one goal that almost no other tank fielded in that conflict could: That it was everywhere that it was needed and did its job well enough, and could do just about anything you needed it to, from the Deserts of North Africa to the Jungles of Burma, the Mountain Passes of Italy, the Beaches of the Pacific, the Rice Fields of China, the Steppes of Russia, the Hedgerows of Normandy, and finally the Streets of Berlin. The Sherman was everywhere.

Israel used the upgraded M-50 and M-51 "Super Shermans" retrofitted with high velocity French 75mm and 105mm guns in that order. These Shermans both served until the end of the Yom Kippur War. The M-50 was given as aid to Israel aligned factions in the Lebanese Civil War and some were exported to Chile which retrofitted 60mm self loading autocannons until being replaced by Leopard 1s. The post-war models saw combat service until 1999 when they were withdrawn from Yugoslav War service. Paraguay had 10 for training and support and 5 in storage usually deployed for parades until 2018 when these last few were retired from service.

{{US Forces in Flames of War}}
{{British Forces in Flames of War}}
{{Soviet Forces in Flames of War}}

[[Category:History]]

Dawn of War

2026-05-12T05:38:37Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010229 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{/vg/}}
[[Image:Dawn of War Logo.png|thumb|300px|right]]
'''''Dawn of War''''' is a Real Time Strategy game for the PC set in the ''[[Warhammer 40,000|Warhammer 40k]]'' universe, produced by Relic Entertainment and released in 2004. It has three expansions, two of which do not require the base game to play. The most recent expansion, ''Soulstorm'', contains almost every playable army in the Warhammer 40k setting in some form, with the notable exception of the [[Daemonhunters|Ordo Malleus]] and the [[Tyranid]]s ([[Dawn of War Mods|although there are mods to change this]]). Many popular stories and memes on /tg/, such as ''[[Love Can Bloom]]'', have their origins in ''Dawn of War''. "Author" [[C.S.Goto]] has “written” “books” about it, although you wouldn't know it by actually reading the books, which we suggest you don't do.

One of the best parts of the series is widely held to be the narration, [https://youtube.com/watch?v=5f_LDrKzqFU featuring lines delivered with gratuitous emphasis and pauses at seemingly-random intervals]. This sounds very [[grimdark|grim and dark]], and is not at all ridiculous. As such, it has created countless [[Meme|memes]] commonly used by [[/tg/]].

From a [[/v/]] perspective, the game is best known for its implementation of a combined morale, squads and alternate resource system, the potential of which was skullfucked by some of the most hilarious attempts at balance seen in the modern era. Seriously, you could throw a horse on a see-saw and it would do a better job. The visceral hand-to-hand combat and 'sync kills' were also praised, since watching your little dudes chainsword that [[Necron|other guy's little dudes is always entertaining, at least until all those other little dudes got back up again and raped you to death. FUCKING NECRONS]].

The game was highly successful, though it was a cock-grinder when it came to online play. Fuck Gamespy. Please note that as much as a small group of /v/-tards love to criticize it, ''Dawn of War'' was considered an amazing game when it first came out, and [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_-AeNUa9gA people would not stop screaming about it.]

Well-known characters from the games include:
*Brother-Captain [[Gabriel Angelos]]
*Brother-Captain [[Davian Thule]]
*Brother-Captain [[Indrick Boreale]]
*Farseer [[Macha]]
*Farseer [[Taldeer]]
*Farseer [[Caerys]]
*The [[Harlequin]]
*[[General Sturnn]]
*General [[Vance Motherfucking Stubbs]]
* [[Governor-Militant Lukas Alexander]]
*[[Shas'O Kais]]
*[[Commander Or'es'Ka]]
*The [[Necron]] Lords of [[Necron Lord of Kronus|Kronus]] & [[Necron Lord of All Kaurava|Kaurava]]
*Tomas Macabee
*Chaos [[Lord Bale]]
*Sorcerer [[Sindri Myr]]
*Chaos Lord [[Crull]]
*Dark Apostle [[Eliphas The Inheritor]]
*Chaos Lord [[Firaeveus Carron]]
*The [[Vindicare]] Assassin
*Warboss [[Orkamungus]]
*Warboss [[Gorgutz 'Ead 'Unter]]
*Inquisitor [[Mordecai Toth]]
*[[Colonel Carus Brom]]
*[[Brother-Sergeant Matiel]]

==Games==
===Dawn of War===
[[Image:DoW1.jpg|300px|thumb|right]]
The original ''Dawn of War'' release featured the [[Blood Ravens]] chapter of the [[Space Marines]], led by Brother-Captain [[Gabriel Angelos]], as they battle against an [[Ork]] [[WAAAGH]] on the planet [[Tartarus]]. It is not long before the [[Eldar]] (led by Farseer [[Macha]]) and the [[Alpha Legion]] of the [[Chaos Space Marines]] (led by [[Lord Bale]] and the Chaos Sorcerer [[Sindri Myr|SINDRIIIII]]) show up, and as it turns out there's a [[Daemon]] imprisoned within an artifact (called the Maledictum) on the planet. This Daemon wants to use the bloodshed of the battle as a sacrifice so he may escape his prison. [[Troll|Spoilers, by the way.]]

Lord Bale is quite the irritable fellow and has little patience for Sindri's complex plans, frequently growling "SINDRIIII" at him in frustration. There is also a [[Mordecai Toth|black Inquisitor]] (who isn't a stereotype, honest), who is unsurprisingly incompetent. Although there is some evidence to claim that he was the Daemon of the Maledictum all along.
<s>I'd like to see that evidence, then. Well, aside from the fact that he's useless.</s> The novelization claims this was the case, but on the other hand, it was written by [[C.S. Goto]]. The idea that the Inquisitor is ''not'' somehow a Chaos traitor comes into play in the Space Marine ending of Dark Crusade, where he appears (and presumably takes a bit of heat off the Blood Ravens since he's buddies with them).

===Winter Assault===
[[Image:DoW WA.jpg|300px|thumb|right]]
The ''Winter Assault'' expansion added the [[Imperial Guard]] as a playable army, and features two alternate campaigns that take place on the planet of Lorn V. It introduced Farseer [[Taldeer]], [[General Sturnn]], Ork [[Warboss]] [[Gorgutz 'Ead 'Unter]], and the Chaos Lord [[Crull]]. Through the branching campaigns it is possible to achieve multiple different endings. Based on information supplied by later games in the series, the canonical ending is probably that achieved by the <s>Imperial Guard</s> Eldar in the Order campaign.
Infamous for featuring a Khornate warband that used Sorcerers and Horrors, and having a Warlord who was not even that angry. Khorne was very angry and beat Tzeentch up until he orchestrated the defeat of this Warband.

But seriously, Crull was still pretty awesome. All Khornate guys are. Only he was considerably less awesome than, say... Arbaal the Undefeated. (Is he still alive?)

Also known for Guardsmen that are equipped with lasguns that can punch through literally [[Monolith|anything]]. Even tanks.

===Dark Crusade===
[[Image:DoW DC.jpg|300px|thumb|right]]
''Dark Crusade'' saw the addition of the [[Necron]]s and the [[Tau]] (led by [[Shas'O Kais]]), and was the first game in the series to drop the mission-based format of the previous singleplayer campaigns, instead adopting a [[Risk]]-esque strategic map where players were required to use their army to conquer the entire planet of Kronus and defeat all the other races present. Using the army to attack enemy-occupied territory resulted in playing a skirmish game against the AI, with the victor gaining (or retaining) the disputed territory.

''[[Story:Love Can Bloom|Love Can Bloom]]'' originated from this.

Introduced the world to the Dark Apostle [[Eliphas The Inheritor|Eliphas the Inheritor]], famed for his snappy comebacks and fantastic putdowns which set him at an intellectual level above your [[Firaeveus Carron|average]] Chaos Lord.

Recommended for IG players cause anyone heading against them without being in their general vicinity will have to contend with Dual BAAAAANNEEEEEBLADDDDDEEESSSSSS and hundreds of mooks, not to mention, well, YOU GET A THRONES DAMMED BANEBLADE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

===Soulstorm===
[[Image:DoW SS.jpg|thumb|right]]
''Soulstorm'' added the [[Dark Eldar]] and [[Sisters of Battle]] as playable races, alongside flying units. Similar to ''Dark Crusade'', the campaign takes place as a battle to control territories on the strategic map, but the fight now takes place over several planets in the [[Kaurava System]], instead of a single planet as in the previous expansion. Interestingly the Dark Eldar were added before the major 5th edition overhaul, leaving Soulstorms Dark Eldar to look either out-dated or nostalgic to [[Fags of 4chan#oldfag|oldfags]].

Continuing a long history by now, it has some hilarious dialogue, now even more so due to the tiny pool of voice actors -- to make characters sharing voice actors distinct they resorted to really dumb accents. [[Meme]]s extracted from ''Soulstorm'' include: [[Indrick Boreale|Baldeale]], [[METAL BOXES]], [[Space Marines|SPESS MEHREENS]] and more. The game is sometimes referred to as "Baldstorm", in reference to [[Indrick Boreale]]. The game also brought us [[Cornholio the Cultist]], among a dozen or so other lesser memes.

The Soulstorm single-player campaign also did away with the whole "building up" feature that was present in Dark Crusade. (E.g: placing all of your high-end structures and capturing most of the nodes on the map so you could create massive, unstoppable forces instantly when you had to defend.) However, it was double-edged. Due to the absence of this feature in Soulstorm, the AI actually stood a chance against you, which made the battles 'slightly' more interesting, but you also couldn't just upgrade a [[Monolith]] instantly and steamroll the AI's attacking force, which meant you had to deal with 6+ regions getting attacked EVERY SINGLE ROUND of the overworld play when you started conquering more territories. And the auto-resolve system didn't give you the best of odds. So, instead of being able to actually conceivably finish the campaign in a day or two, you would probably instead end up spending about 30-40 hours on just defending your same stupid territories in the end. Then you'll probably spend another 10 hours actually taking over territories and beating all the strongholds. Combine that with the open memory leak, and you might have to play for a week straight to actually win. What fun (that's sarcasm). (The way to do this is to conquer the system one planet/faction at a time- that means you don't have to worry about multiple attacks on your territories. The downside of this is that the last planet you get to is heavily defended by the time you get to it. Whilst this can make for more interesting fights, you do get annoyed having to build up from nothing whilst your enemy does not. Note also that this tactic generally works only on Easy mode- in other modes, the computer will waste ''no time at all'' in going after you ASAP.)

In [[Dawn of War III]], it is confirmed that Gorgutz was the victor of da Kaurava System, and was consequently the one who wiped Boreal and his bald ass off the face of Kaurava II. This means that the system is likely infested with Orks.

<span style='color:green;font-size:200%'>'''ORKS IZ DA MEANEST AN' DA GREENEST! WAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!'''</span>

[[File:ORKZ ARE DA BEST.png]]

==Rise and Fall of a Franchise==
Dawn of War was a brilliant game at launch - and one that saw an increasing number of issues with patches and expansions. To chronicle this tragedy so that none may forget, the entire tale of Dawn of War's rise and fall is listed here.

===Dawn of War===
[[Image:Dawn1.jpg|200px|thumb|right|''Dawn of War'']]
Dawn of War was blessed - and cursed - to have a gameplay style not quite like anything else when it launched. The combination of hard counters and the ability to customize armies was hailed as a brilliant move, and though the balance was far from perfect (due to every race but one mostly comprising heavy infantry and thus being especially vulnerable to the [[Eldar]] race's use of said hard counters), a good time was had by all. There was a lot to love from every faction and there was considerable love towards fluff and crunch even with the errant bit of flaming stupid (Sindri invoking the blood god). Whilst the multiplayer balance wasn't quite great, it was for the most part a fair fight and there were ways to get the most out of each unit in the game, and literally everything was viable to some degree or another.

===Winter Assault===
[[Image:Winter.jpg|200px|thumb|right|''Dawn of War: Winter Assault'']]
When ''Winter Assault'' was announced, players were psyched. An army heavily centering around light infantry (the Imperial Guard) was announced, with new units for each existing side. Some of the new units were things that were extremely demanded ([[Chaplain]]s for [[Space Marines|SPESS MEHREENS]], Fire Dragons for [[Eldar]], Mega Armor Nobz for [[Ork]]s), but Chaos players were a bit perplexed by the new unit that was brought to the table for Chaos: [[Khorne]] Berserkers. The unit never seemed to fit in with Chaos tactical doctrine, especially considering that there were no less than 3 other melee units available for Chaos. But no one complained since Chaos is never complete without regular shouts of BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! Nonetheless, players eagerly awaited ''Winter Assault''.

...And then it hit. And there was [[Rage|RAGE]]. Out the gate, the Imperial Guard had poorly-coded weapons that caused them to be able to melee any unit to death, along with the guardsman's lasgun turning into a portable lascannon, effectively, a single squad of guardsmen in cover could pose a serious threat against heavy armor, like the SM Predators. Even after that, the Guard had serious problems with efficiency, as the entire faction from tier 1 to 3 was centered around attaching a [[Commissar]] and hammering Execute like an ass. This was nothing, however, compared to the filthy rape the rest of the game had suffered.

For reasons uncertain, the hard counter system had been ripped out of the original Dawn of War, and units now saw complete obsolescence - Dark Reapers were now a 100% improvement over Guardians and Kasrkin completely outstripped Guardsmen (understandable in fluff but in an RTS, not so much). Acts of stupendous idiocy hit regarding the upgrades for various units; the Space Marine commander would switch from his Daemonhammer to a Power Sword with his upgrade, losing his Veteran/Hero damage upgrades in the process.

The worst hits of all, however, were for Chaos - All special weapons for their Marine squads and all the special weapon upgrades (H. Bolters, flamers, plasma guns, and missile launchers) for their marines were wholesale stripped out in an attempt to streamline the tech trees and "differentiate the factions," ignoring the fact that people were playing Chaos because they were the Evil Marines. They too, had the same unit obsolescence issue; Raptors were totally outdone by Berserkers which were, in turn, totally outdone by Possessed. This was fixed slightly in patches and updates; Dark Crusade had succeeded in making the three a little more different due to the addition of Mark of Khorne (which panicked units) for Berserkers, fixing how Speed Demons and Purge the Weak worked for Raptor Champions, and generally making Possessed a little more streamlined - but these were all upgrades that would not hit until the tail-end of the WA patch cycle (for Raptors) or after Dark Crusade's patch (for everything else) - the latter of which would be over a year away.

In short: Winter Assault had not only fucked up a lot, but it actually removed more content for the existing races than it initially added.

Further attempts to "fix" the problems introduced by Winter Assault caused even worse fuck-ups, as Horrors became anti-vehicle (wut) and Terminators and Obliterators lost their ability to melee remotely effectively because the primary developer, [[Troll|Johnny Ebbert]] claimed that the combination of high ranged/melee damage and high HP (on a unit that was insanely slow and a last Tier unit, not to mention the need for a relic to at all build it) was overpowered, ignoring the findings of every single balance team working for Relic at the time. Later the spammability was fixed with hard-caps on Terminators and Obliterators, but them being piss-poor in melee remained in the face of every single argument regarding [[fluff]] and [[crunch]] (Terminators being armed with Powerfists, Obliterators having them ''grafted to their bodies'') and finding of the balance teams.

Things continued to escalate as the bulk of the game became a tech-race to see who could get to Tier 4 the fastest and spam top-of-the-tech-tree units the hardest. This was also where a pattern began in which developers would show open favoritism to the Eldar, allegedly because most of the Staff's internal team were die-hard Eldar players. Fire Prisms became the most durable tank in the game, and the Avatar of Khaine gained the ability to allow the Eldar to field more vehicles and infantry than any other army period, adding a massive +10 to both pop and vehicle pop caps. On one of the toughest melee combat units in the game. Which most Eldar Players used by building then never moving him from their base so as to make use of that delightful +10 pop cap to infantry/vehicles whilst their Ultimate unit just sat on the couch of Khaine. It was one of the most-complained about facets of the game, and like most of the other items on this list, would never be addressed. The above would eventually become infamous as the place where the entire metagame went wrong, and was a path that the game would never fully recover from, despite noble attempts during both Dark Crusade and Soulstorm.

===Dark Crusade===
[[Image:Dark.jpg|200px|thumb|right|''Dawn of War: Dark Crusade'']]
Dark Crusade had problems at launch, not the least of which was that it was a very bold attempt. Two new races were added and the game was still suffering the aftermath of what had been caused by Winter Assault. There was a lot of earnest attempts to fix the previous expansion's problems; hard caps were added to elite-level units, special weapons had slowly begun to filter back into the Chaos Space Marines (though no missile launchers or flamers ever returned and Horrors remained anti-vehicle), and the huge number of blatantly stupid problems with the Space Marines were fixed.

Unfortunately, the game remained riddled with problems. Cue another outburst of [[Rage|complaints]].

One complaint really was worth getting upset about. Having decided that combat was "too lethal" and that shooty units shouldn't be able to chase down and kill fleeing units, Relic introduced a flat change to the fire-on-the-move accuracy of every single unit: 15%. In one stroke, this "Fix" caused dozens of problems. No longer did the likes of Dreadnoughts ever see a weapon upgrade (because doing so would give it a functionally-useless weapon that would never hit as it moved towards close-combat and hindered its melee power to boot), and the weapon immediately made rapid-firing weapons dozens of times better than those that fired slowly, since it was much more likely that they could hit with a few shots than their counterparts. Vehicles and personnel intended to fire on the move (such as Terminators) became functionally useless, whilst the Eldar Fleet of Foot ability became tantamount to godmode (initially it reduced accuracy when activated, but now with the flat 15% fire accuracy, there was no reason ''not'' to use it when moving units.

The two new races were broken in half at launch, as well. Necrons required no resources and there existed multiple replays of players winning maps without ever capturing a single strategic point. It was possible for Necrons to go over the pop limit with Resurrection Orb, and the Lightning Field had no actual charge cap, meaning that it could potentially charge forever before discharging a burst of energy that could level a building in one shot. The Tau outranged everything, had no limit on Krootoxes, and had their tech tree lopsided so that one of their two available paths got both available upgrades. The Eldar Harlequin could fire a 10000+damage attack that would kill one unit in a squad, but due to how it was coded, could target and instagib a commander unit that was attached to said squad. Bad in competetive play, [[Awesome|great]] if you just realize Necrons are easy mode in the campaign and you want to dump eight warrior squads on top of a bunch of guardsmen.

Further complaint occurred when it became known that the "new" Imperial Guard unit, the [[Dakka|Heavy Weapons Team]], was revealed to have been in Winter Assault and had not seen use simply because it could not actively target enemies - which it still could not at Dark Crusade's launch. Yet more rage occurred when every single time anyone with anything remotely resembling common sense brought up flamingly stupid mechanics (such as [[Psyker]]s killing themselves (which ''could be cancelled'', no less) and Psykers breaking their attached squad when using Lightning Arc) were summarily dismissed despite pointing out the obvious (that this was fucking [[Derp|stupid]]).

A patch was promised in short order, but it would be well over 7 months before Relic would eventually patch the game and leave a lot unfixed in the process. Numerous facets that Relic's internal balance team disliked about several other factions (such as the fact that Basilisks were artillery units) caused them to get nerfed, whilst factions that said balance team liked (Eldar) remained untouched despite thousands of complaints about the race being blatantly overpowered. Even after their nerfs, the Necrons and Tau remained hilariously unbalanced. A second patch was promised, but was quietly cancelled and the official site then proceeded to state that a second patch had never been announced.

The single-player campaign was an entirely different story. Despite the disappointment and anger of a small number of hardcore [[neckbeards]] and [[That guy|Negative Nancies]], the fans in general [[Awesome|loved it]]. The game weighed in at a very impressive 8.7 out of 10 rating from critics and 8.9 from players on Metacritic. Despite the aforementioned imbalances, the campaign almost never involved "fair" fights with both sides having equal resources. The first few maps were simple ones where both sides start with an HQ building, but soon things ramp up and the enemy will be starting with two advanced bases, or they'll be attacking an area you've [[Imperial Fists|heavily fortified]], or attacking a huge enemy stronghold with unique mechanics and layouts.

A few things set the game apart from and, you might say, ahead of the predecessors. The campaign map meant that you could choose to attack one of several territories each turn. They all gave you an income of campaign-level requisition points which you could spend on fortifying a territory, starting a map with extra buildings, or call in special elite bodyguards. You got the option to purchase those bodyguards based on which territories you have captured. Finally, some of the territories gave you something ''really'' nice when captured. One let you [[Khorne|attack twice per turn]], one let you move between territories instantly, one gave you extra starting resources, and so on. You would also unlock wargear for your commander by achieving specific things, such as conquering an enemy stronghold or getting a really good kill-to-loss ratio in a mission. Finally, the enemy strongholds were all unique, and were similar to the missions in the linear campaigns of the previous games... with the difference that you could ensure you got off to a stronger start by doing well in the rest of the campaign.

===Soulstorm===
[[Image:Soulstorm.jpg|200px|thumb|right|''Dawn of War: Soulstorm'']]
Hopes were high for Soulstorm. Whilst it was obviously going to have difficulties from the first two games, it was being produced by Iron Lore, which took community input extremely seriously and added a number of new features intended to make the game the most balanced it had been since Vanilla. And in many ways, they succeeded. Balance was considerably improved, though the problem with Tau tech remained. A number of problems were fixed, and serious consideration was made to ensure that the two new races - the Dark Eldar and Sisters of Battle - would not fall into the trap of the old. This would be Iron Lore's last produced game, and they wanted it to be a hit.

Unfortunately, Relic and THQ had other plans. The developers were forced by THQ to put in Flying units - something the Dawn of War engine was ''never designed for'', cutting out a lot of units that had been heavily-demanded by fans (Wraithguard, Leman Russ Demolisher, Chaos Dreadnought, Techmarines, Wyrdboyz, etc) in favor of the aforementioned flyers. Said flyers were notoriously buggy, absurdly unbalanced (The Tau Barracuda for example, were capable of leveling a base on their own) or fulfilled a completely unnecessary purpose (Marauder Bomber for Guard when everyone and their grandfather wanted Valkyries, which would have been actually useful considering that bombers were of no purpose when one factored in [[Basilisk]]s). The budget was slashed repeatedly and the amount of time Iron Lore had was stripped bare, forcing the developers to create a cut-rate campaign that felt like a total rehash. And of course we should not forget the voice actors and scripting that were either so terrible or "good" that they produced 3 famous memes within the WH40K fanbase: "[[Space Marines|Spehss Mahreens]]" and "[[The God-Emperor of Mankind|Emprah]]" as said by [[Indrick Boreale|Indrick Baldeale]] and [[METAL BOXES|METHUL BAWKSES]] as said by [[Firaeveus Carron|the Champion of the BAWKS GAWD]], all of whom were voiced by [[Scott McNeil|Scott Fucking McNeil]] (who also brought us [[Cornholio the Cultist]], bringing the total number of [[meme]]s brought about by this game to at least six). And then, just to add insult to injury, Relic released the game with an earlier beta version of the program which had numerous bugs and balance problems, including a refresh bug for the Dark Eldar Dais Dark Scythe ability, which would cause it to deal thousands of damage and vaporize entire armies.

Still, even on release, the game was very well-received - and then, it happened. 19 hours after the game's initial launch, an infinite resource exploit was uncovered for the Sisters of Battle. By queuing up an upgrade for their listening post and then cancelling it, it was possible to get double the normal resource amount - ergo allowing you to do it rapid-fire for colossal amount of resources very, very quickly along with having infinite faith resource by simply auto-casting a faith ability so in-theory, a simple Celestian squad with a missionary attached could very well turn their durability like those of an Assault Terminator Squad with a Chaplain attached. After initially dismissing this as [[What|"not a real bug"]] and prattling on that players "should be happy with what they've got," a "hotfix" was promised within "one, maybe two weeks."

That one to two weeks turned into a nearly 9-month wait, whilst the game suffered horrendously. The "merit" system which was designed to award players with little collections of in-game multiplayer achievements was completely non-functional not only during this time, but after it. The lobby at launch read: "This is stand-in-news. Replace this with real news," and kept this for 6 out of the 8.65 months it took for the patch to hit. During this time, Automatch was broken and the use of a trainer (The Company of Heroes CheatMod, if anyone cares) allowing players to switch races on the fly and delete enemy buildings ran rampant, destroying anything that remotely remained of the game's competitive multiplayer environment. Smaller bugs and problems kept popping up during the wait: using dance of death would set Eldar players' resources to Zero. Charming an Ethereal with a Deceiver would give the Necron Army billions of hit points per unit. Observers could activate a Dark Eldar player's Soul Powers.

After 8.65 months, there was nothing left. The game was deader than a [[Sisters of Battle|Sister of Battle]] at [[Matthew Ward|Matt Ward]]'s place. But again, after 8 months of waiting and leaving the game to die, a small shard of hope appeared: the hotfix finally DID arrive which addressed most of the early problems present in the game, including the ability to use trainers in a multiplayer game and most of the SoB/DE bugs, which made the game relatively playable. However, much like how Zelda to the Nintendo Gamecube, it came too late and Soulstorm basically died out as many players just gave up on the game, while small pockets of players remained.
Fortunately, the Steam port of Soulstorm restored the servers, and Soulstorm's vanilla multiplayer is alive to this very day.

Relic had blamed everything from Steam to Gamespy to the black hole at the center of the galaxy for the delays, but everyone and their grandmother knew the full truth: they didn't give a shit because they were working on [[Dawn of War II]]. After the patch, the game remained broken with a lot left to fix (the Eldar remained blatantly overpowered and there were dozens of smaller problems plaguing each faction - all of which were easily fixed), but Relic was done with it and Dawn of War 2 was here. So if by some Emperor only knows reason you still want to play this game, you better just [[Dawn of War Mods|mod it out]].

To this day, mentioning Dawn of War to certain users of /tg/ will result in a rant that makes this article seem like a U MAD? in comparison.

You have been [[Exterminatus|warned]].

==Resurrection==
With THQ going under, and Sega scooping up the license, there were questions whether or not we'd ever see another Dawn of War game. What no one expected was that not only is Relic still alive and kicking, not only are they still working on Dawn of War, but they're actually working on switching the games to Steamworks, and, shockingly, ''resuming patch support.''

You can read all about it [http://steamcommunity.com/games/DawnofWarDarkCrusade/announcements/detail/1658761639946053463 here]. If you're a DOW fan, this is the equivalent of the Emperor's return in terms of huge-ness. <s> Only time will tell if this turns out to be something absolutely amazing or if it's just so much brave words, but for the moment, /tg/ is hopeful. </s> The update came, and it was not amazing. LAN has been completely removed, Eldar are still broken, and modding remained relatively untouched.

==The Alternative==
For those who want an infinitely better Dawn of War experience, there's options. Mods exist that do everything from add new factions to change how the game is played - and almost all of them drip with quality and sexiness. From mods that re-invoke the feelings of Vanilla DOW, to mods that add things like the Armageddon Steel Legion and Tyranids, to the absolutely Epic Firestorm over Kronus, Unification Mod, Purgation of Kaurava, and Ultimate Apocalypse, there's a huge number of mods available, and it's highly recommended you [[Dawn of War Mods|check 'em out]].

==Faction Short Tips==
Keeping this as short and sweet as possible. Note these observations are made on vanilla Soulstorm, and mods MIGHT change this.
*Space Marines- Focus on Tactical Marines. Give 'em weapons for the situations they come up against (missiles for bases & vehicles, for example). Vehicles generally sturdy enough, just properly support any force.
*Imperial Guard- It may help to equip your Guardsmen with Grenade Launchers- they knock down enemy infantry very well. Use Execute to buff your units to high hell, always attach Priests and do the Tactica upgrades if you want to turn Guardsmen into lethal killing machines. Get Kasrkin and Ogryn and attach Priests to them, he turns them from subpar units into arguably the best ranged and melee squad in the game. Get the Baneblade and support it. Best turtling faction, but you don't need to.
*Sisters of Battle- What generally helps is to build Holy Icons to give you Acts of Faith. Spam Celestians, do the Inferno pistols upgrade and get an Exorcist or two to keep the enemy army on their ass at all times. Penitent engines are better left on ranged if you are dealing with massed infantry due to their mighty flamers.
*Eldar- Dark Reapers to mulch infantry, Fire Dragons for buildings. Pair 'em off and give them a vehicle, and they're a handy little taskforce. Remember to do the Soul Shrine upgrades for armor and health, the Eldar scale really well through the tiers.
*Dark Eldar- Look up the Talos and try for Wyches. Wyches give morale immunity and speed and attack boosts with their combat drugs (use this with Warp Beasts to chew through anything), their attacks slow down the targets and their poison is extra lethal. Get the Archon, research the Crucible of Malediction and give him a full Incubi reutine so his 2 abilities last for a long long time. Use your Soul Powers.
*Chaos- Standard CSMs are the way to go here, Cultists with grenade launchers are really good against the Imperial Guard. They're even better with Infiltration. Use Plasma Guns if you can help it. Get a Defiler or two and put them on ranged, they are like a slightly worse Basilisk who is on the other hand capable of providing heavy fire support. Get the Bloodthirster and the Daemon Prince ASAP too.
*Necrons- What some think is that they get back up every time they get knocked down. If you play them here, DO '''NOT''' COUNT ON THIS. Some Necron Warriors have been known to go down and stay down on their first death. Flayed Ones and Warriors in a pair are typically a good combo. This, however, is for infantry. If you want to kill buildings too, swap out Warriors for Immortals or just add a few squads of them in. Good use of the Lord is essential.Get the Mono.
*Orks- '''Never''' neglect the Pile O' Gunz nor the Big Mek. The upgrades are extremely useful in the long run and the Mek, while he can't compare to the Force Commander or Chaos Lord, can teleport himself and his boyz around while having great ranged and melee DPS. Your better all-rounders are typically Flash Gitz (they are very fragile and expensive however, attach Mad Doks and use the juice), but if you desire something simpler lategame, go for Tier 4 and do the more Sluggas upgrade, build a bunch of Banners and Boyz huts, put the Sluggas on autobuild and rally point them in the enemy base. Proceed to watch the most Orky thing ever.
*Tau- Try a lot of Fire Warriors, or 3 Crisis Suits with Flamers. Remember, though, that Tau units are typically glass cannons- they can dish it out, but don't take it so well. Make sure you always have some form of backup for any pure Tau unit. If you go Kauyon be sure to use the special Kroot you have access to, they are rather good. Always get the Ethereal, but don't let him die.

== See Also ==
* [https://www.dawnofwar.com/ The Official Dawn of War site]
* [https://store.steampowered.com/sub/30560/ Buy the game on Steam]
* [[Dawn of War Mods|The list of /tg/-approved mods]]
* [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyLLeKcxw24W_3a8XPrTHqPywEclDVucg The complete Dawn of War soundtrack]
* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvnH1yVOn0E ThunderPsyker's excellent retrospective review of Dawn of War]
* [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGiNE-FmrLM What ''Really'' Happened in the Kaurava Campaign]

==Gallery==
<gallery>
Image:DawnofWarMainMenu1.png|The main menu for the original ''Dawn of War''.
Image:DoW WA Menu.jpg|The main menu for ''Winter Assault''.
Image:Warhammer_40,000_Dawn_of_War.jpg|Screenshot from ''Dawn of War: Winter Assault''.
Image:DoW DC Menu.jpg|The main menu for ''Dark Crusade''.
Image:DoW SS Menu.jpg|The main menu for ''Soulstorm''.
Image:DoW Army Painter.jpg|The famous Army Painter
Image:Chaoslordz.jpg|This is pretty much what the [[Chaos lord|Chaos Lords]] are in the game.
</gallery>

[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]
[[Category:Video Games]]
[[Category: Dawn of War]]

Vikingr

2026-05-12T05:36:48Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010231 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{stub}}
A continuation of [[Stand Still Stay Silent: The RPG]]. PDF and development available from [https://github.com/GunmetalStuG/Vikingr]
[[Category:Roleplaying]]
[[Category:Homebrew]]

Codex N.R.F.

2026-05-12T05:36:18Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010232 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

Abilities
All N.R.F. units have the following abilities.
Vengeance for the Old World- You can re-roll failed hit rolls of one against Nurgle models made by this unit.
Survivors of the Apocalypse
In this section you’ll find rules for Battle-forged armies that contain N.R.F. Detachments –that is, any Detachment which only includes units with the N.R.F. Faction keyword. These rules include the ability below and a series of Stratagems. This section also includes the N.R.F.’s unique Warlord Traits, Relics and Tactical Objectives. Together, these rules reflect the character and fighting style of The N.R.F. in your games of Warhammer 40,000.
Last Soldiers : If your army is Battle-forged, all Troops units in N.R.F. Detachments gain this ability. Such a unit that is within range of an objective marker controls it even if there are more enemy models within range of it. If an enemy unit within range of the objective marker has a similar ability, then it is controlled by the player who has the most models within range as normal.
Defending Our Planet: If your army is Battle-forged, all units in N.R.F. Detachments gain this ability. You may re-roll failed wound roles of one against Nurgle models made by this unit.
N.R.F. Warlord Traits
If a N.R.F. CHARACTER is your Warlord, they can generate a Warlord Trait from the following table instead of the one in the Warhammer 40,000 rulebook. You can either roll on the table below to randomly generate a Warlord Trait, or you can select the one that best suits your general’s battlefield objectives.
1. Hailstorm of Fire: In an attempt to exterminate his foes, a Commander may order his men to fire without regard for ammo. Once per game your Warlord and any unit within 6" can fire twice in your shooting phase.
2. Into the Hands of Fate: There is no greater motivation than the assurance that you're doing what's right. When your Warlord and a single friendly unit within 3" of them Advances, they may both add 6" to their Move characteristic for that Movement phase instead of rolling a dice.
3. Knight of Justice : After many years of training, this Warlord has discovered the weak points of every Nurgle creature known. Re-roll failed hit and wound rolls in the Fight phase for attacks made by your Warlord.
4. We Will Make Our Stand: A high-ranking leader is often the only thing keeping the others from retreating. You can re-roll failed Morale tests for friendly N.R.F. INFANTRY units within 6" of your Warlord in the Morale phase.
5. Vengeance for the Dead: The death of comrades can inspire warriors and foster courage. For every friendly unit that is wiped out within 9 inches of this model add one to this models’ attacks.
6. Master of the Labs: All members of the N.R.F. wish to create powerful anti-Nurgle technology, but only the smartest among them can do so. Your Warlord has a 6+ invulnerable save. If your warlord already has an invulnerable save, then add 1 to invulnerable saving throws made for your Warlord.
Named Characters and Warlord Traits
If one of the following named characters is your Warlord, they must be given the associated Warlord Trait shown below.
Ben Pickens Ben Mitchell
We Will Make Our Stand Vengeance for The Dead

Custom technology
If your army is led by a N.R.F. Warlord, then before the battle you may give one of the following Legendary Arms to a N.R.F. CHARACTER. Named characters such as Ben Pickens already have one or more inventions and cannot be given any of the following tech. Note that some weapons replace one of the character’s existing weapons. Where this is the case, if you are playing a matched play game or are otherwise using points values, you must still pay the cost of the weapon that is being replaced. Write down any Custom Technology your characters may have on your army roster.
• Military-Grade Gasmask: Unlike the other gasmasks worn by the N.R.F. this is a military-Grade gasmask that offers far better protection and features built in night goggles. A model wearing the Military-Grade Gasmask is proof against all mortal wounds caused by Nurgle attacks and is not affected by the Nurgle physic power Summon Choking Gas clouds.
• First Battleplate: The original Nurgle proof armour worn by Ben Pickens before the apocalypse. It has been gradually improved on over the years and can weather even the strongest Nurgle attacks. Commanders, Lieutenants only. A model wearing the First Battleplate has a 2+ save and 4+ invulnerable save, but has their movement lowered by one inch.
• Light of Freedom: This Sanitizer murder weapon shoots faster and stronger cartridges than usual. Model with Sanitizer Murder weapon only. The Light of Freedom replaces the models Sanitizer Murder weapon and has the following profile:
Name Range S AP Damage Type Abilities
Light of Freedom 54" 8 -2 3 Heavy 2 -

• Blade of Lost Friends: This Sword is formed from obsidian coated in a sanitizer compound. Lower ranked soldiers and civilians alike whisper rumours that it holds the spirits of those lost to the Nurgle. Model with Machete, Fire axe only. The Blade of Lost Friends replaces the model’s machete or fire axe and has the following profile:
Name Range S AP Damage Type Abilities
Blade of Lost Friends Melee User -4 1 Melee Enemy models within 9 inches of the bearer of this weapon add 1 to morale checks.

• S.o.t.O.M: A Pre-Apocalypse military S.M.G. that fires faster Bullets. Model with an S.M.G. only. S.o.t.O.M replaces the models S.M.G and has the following profile:
Name Range S AP Damage Type Abilities
S.o.t.O.M 18" 4 0 1 Assault 6 Each time you make a hit roll of 6+ for this weapon make another hit roll. These further hit rolls may not generate any more.

• Spitfire: Spitfire is an EMP Pistol with an expanded power cell, allowing it to make charged shots as often as an EMP Pistol makes regular shots. Model with EMP Pistol only. Spitfire replaces the models EMP Pistol and has the following profile:
Name Range S AP Damage Type Abilities
Spitfire 12" 4 -1 2 Pistol 1 If the target is a VEHICLE and you make a wound roll of 4+, the target suffers 1 mortal wound in addition to any other damage. If you make a wound roll of 6+, inflict D3 mortal wounds instead. This weapon also re-rolls failed To Hit rolls.

• The Wrath of the Faithful: This sniper rifle once belonged to a U.S. presidents’ bodyguard who later assassinated him. It was recovered by the N.R.F. who repurposed it to take out Nurgle. Model with a Sniper Rifle only. The Wrath of the Faithful replaces the models Sniper Rifle and has the following profile:
Name Range S AP Damage Type Abilities
Wrath of the Faithful 72" 6 -2 1 Rapid Fire 1 This weapon requires two hands to wield, as such, an INFANTRY model making a shooting attack with it cannot make a shooting attack with any other weapon during that Shooting phase. This weapon may target a CHARACTER even if it is not the closest enemy unit. If you roll a wound roll of 6+ for this weapon, it inflicts a mortal wound in addition to its normal damage.

• White Scar: This grenade launcher fires superhot sanitizer. Model with a grenade launcher only. White Scar replaces the model’s grenade launcher and has the following profile:
Name Range S AP Damage Type Abilities
White Scar 18" 5 -1 D3 Assault D6 Each time you make a wound roll of 6+ for this weapon, that hit is resolved with an AP of -4.
Stratagems
If your army is Battle-forged and includes any N.R.F. Detachments, you have access to the Stratagems shown below, meaning you can spend Command Points to activate them. These help to reflect the unique tactics and strategies used by The N.R.F. on the battlefield.
• A Spoonful of Sanitizer(2CP): The Modified nature of Bullet/sanitizer weapons inflicts horrific damage on the creatures of Nurgle. Use this Stratagem before a N.R.F. unit from your army attacks in the Shooting phase. Add 1 to the wound rolls made for all of that unit’s bullet weapons and increase the damage inflicted by any bullet weapon by 1. For the purposes of this Stratagem, a bullet weapon is any weapon that seems like it fires bullets.
• Anger (1CP): Even the lowly scavenger can be pushed too far, when the warriors of the N.R.F. get angry, they will fire relentlessly, cutting their foes down in a hail of firepower. Use this Stratagem when you select one of your N.R.F. units to shoot or fire Overwatch. Re-roll failed hit and wound rolls for models in this unit.
• Assassins (3CP): The N.R.F. launch their assault from multiple directions, fixing the enemy in a lethal crossfire and throwing them into a terrified confusion. Use this Stratagem during deployment. Choose up to three N.R.F. units to setup in ambush instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your Movement phases these units can strike from hiding – set each of them up wholly within 7" of any battlefield edge and more than 9" from any enemy models.
• Black Eye (3CP): Even in an age of murder weapons, many of the N.R.F. favour the opportunity to batter and bruise the enemy into submission. Use this Stratagem at the end of the Fight phase. Select a N.R.F. unit from your army – that unit can immediately fight for a second time.
• Catch (1CP): Against packed formations of enemy infantry, a favoured tactic of The N.R.F. is to hurl an opening salvo of grenades en masse. Use this Stratagem before a N.R.F. INFANTRY unit from your army shoots or fires Overwatch. Up to ten models in the unit that are armed with grenades can throw a grenade this phase, instead of only one model being able to do so.
• Excavate (2CP): When Heavy Tanks focus their fire, nothing can withstand their might. Use this Stratagem when you select a target for a Heavy Tank. Do not resolve that weapon’s attacks until the end of the phase. Until then, any Heavy Tank from your army can link fire with that Heavy Tank if it is visible to and within 60" of them; if they do so, when firing their weapons they must target the unit that the first Heavy Tank targeted with its weapons, ignoring range and visibility, and re-rolling failed hit and wound rolls. At the end of the phase, resolve the weapon shots from the first Heavy Tank, re-rolling failed hit and wound rolls if at least one other Heavy Tank linked fire with it.
• Eye Patch (1CP): Sometimes, a unit displays phenomenal luck. Use this Stratagem when a N.R.F. INFANTRY unit is targeted by a shooting attack. For the rest of the phase, your opponent must subtract 1 from all hit rolls that target that unit.
• Fog (1CP): Under cover of active camo and radar jammers, the warriors of The N.R.F. confound their foes. Use this Stratagem during deployment. You can setup a N.R.F. unit from your army in ambush instead of placing it on the battlefield. At the beginning of the first battle round but before the first turn begins, the unit is revealed – set it up anywhere on the battlefield that is more than 9" away from any enemy models.
• Scavenger Swarms (2CP): There is now shortage of recruits so the N.R.F. can end up with so many scavengers they run out of roles for them. Use this Stratagem at the end of your Movement phase. Select a SCAVENGER INFANTRY unit from your army (excluding CHARACTERS) that was destroyed earlier in the battle. Set up this unit wholly within your deployment zone, within 6" of the edge of the battlefield and more than 9" from any enemy models.
• Mythic (1CP): Time and time again has the faith of the N.R.F. allowed its warriors to fight on despite the deadly wounds suffered. Use this Stratagem when a N.R.F. unit loses a wound. Roll a D6 for that wound, and for each wound lost by the unit for the rest of the phase; on a 6, that wound is not lost.
• Hercules Airstrike (3CP): A Hercules flying above the battlefield can open its bomb bays at a high-ranking generals command bringing fire and hell down on to the Nurgle below . This Stratagem can be used once per battle, in the Shooting phase, if you have a N.R.F. Warlord that did not move during your Movement phase. Instead of shooting with your Warlord’s weapons, select a visible point on the battlefield and roll a D6 for every unit within D6" of that point. Subtract 1 from the result if the unit being rolled for is a CHARACTER. On a 4+, the unit being rolled for suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Weapons Cache Discovered(1CP/3CP): Scouring the N.R.F.'s armoury’s, a high-ranking N.R.F. leader can call forth destructive technology with which to slay his foes. Use this Stratagem before the battle. Your army can have one extra relic from the Custom Technology for 1 CP, or two extra relics for 3 CPs. All of the relics that you include must be different and be given to different N.R.F. CHARACTERS. You can only use this Stratagem once per battle.
• That's Just... Wrong (2CP): N.R.F. motion trackers detect enemy movements, warning them of impending ambushes. Use this Stratagem immediately after your opponent sets up a unit that is arriving on the battlefield as reinforcements within 12" of one of your N.R.F. INFANTRY units. Your unit can immediately shoot at that enemy unit as if it were the Shooting phase, but you must subtract 1 from all the resulting hit rolls.
• Thunderstorm (1CP): Veteran N.R.F. have their faith tempered by their survival in battle. Use this Stratagem at the start of the Morale phase. Pick a N.R.F. INFANTRY unit from your army that is required to take a Morale test. You can roll a D3 for the unit, rather than a D6, when taking this test.
• Tough Luck (1CP): A lot of N.R.F. soldiers are surprisingly agile, quick to dive out of the way of incoming fire. Use this Stratagem in your opponent’s Shooting phase when your opponent selects one of your units as a target. You can add 1 to saving throws you make for this unit until the end of the phase.

N.R.F. Tactical Objectives
If your army is led by a N.R.F. Warlord, these Tactical Objectives replace the Capture and Control Tactical Objectives (numbers 11-16) in the Warhammer 40,000 rulebook. If a mission uses Tactical Objectives, players use the normal rules for using Tactical Objectives with the following exception: when a N.R.F. player generates a Capture and Control objective (numbers 11-16), they instead generate the corresponding N.R.F. Tactical Objective, as shown below. Other Tactical Objectives (numbers 21-66) are generated normally.
11. Remove this Filth: We cleanse the land of Nurgle so humanity can rebuild. Score 1 victory point at the end of your turn if an enemy unit was forced off an objective by either completely destroying it or forcing it to fall back. If 3 or more units were forced off an objective than score D3 victory points instead.
12. Artefact Located: Weapons and other tech from before Nurgle rose must be recovered to aid the war effort. When this Tactical Objective is generated, roll a D6. Score 1 Victory Point at the end of your turn if you control the corresponding Objective Marker. If your Warlord controls the corresponding Objective Marker, score D3 Victory Points instead.
13. Smite the Demons: The future generations honour our names with actions, not words. Score 1 victory point if at least 1 enemy CHARACTER was slain by one of your N.R.F. units in the Fight phase of this turn. Score D3 victory points instead if the enemy Warlord was slain in the Fight phase of this turn by an attack made by one of your N.R.F. units.
14. We Will Not Die Quietly: Victory is secured, not from the councils or even the bases , but from the front lines. Score 1 victory point if, during your turn, a friendly N.R.F. unit successfully charged an enemy unit. If 3 or more friendly N.R.F. units made successful charges, score D3 victory points instead.
15. No Retreat: On the blood of our fathers. On the blood of our sons. We swore to defend humanity! If one of your units passes or has passed a Morale test in this game turn, gain a Victory Point. Add one Victory Point for each passed Leadership test beyond the first.
16. Momentary Dishonour: Out of the darkness, we will light our own way. Score 1 victory point at the end of your turn if one or more friendly N.R.F. units arrived as reinforcements using the Active Camouflage or Low Altitude Drop ability and were setup within 12" of any enemy units.
N.R.F. Equipment
The united forces of the N.R.F. employ a wide variety of technology and weapons, either that discovered from previous military forces or by separate development through constant war.
Weapon Table Range Type S AP D Abilities Points Cost
EMP pistol When attacking with this weapon, choose one of the two profiles below. 0
Standard shot 12" Pistol 1 3 0 1 -
Overcharged shot 12" Pistol 1 4 -1 2 If the target is a VEHICLE and you make a wound roll of 4+, the target suffers 1 mortal wound in addition to any other damage. If you make a wound roll of 6+, inflict D3 mortal wounds instead. This weapon also re-rolls failed To Wound rolls against vehicles. This profile can only be used once per battle.
Sanitizer Repeater When attacking with this weapon, choose one of the two profiles below. 0
Standard 24" Rapid Fire 1 3 0 1
Extra-large splatter 24" Rapid Fire 2 4 0 1 This profile can only be used once per battle.
Sanitizer Grenade 6" Grenade D3 5 -1 2 - 0
Sanitizer Rifle When attacking with this weapon, choose one of the two profiles below. 0
Standard Rifle 18" Assault 1 3 0 1 -
Extra-large splatter 18" Assault 3 3 0 1 This profile can only be used once per battle.
Grenade Launcher 18" Assault D6 4 -1 1 5
Minimurder weapon 36" Heavy 5 3 -1 1 8
Twin Minimurder weapon 36" Heavy 10 3 -1 1 - 14
Heavy Minimurder weapon 36” Heavy 5 5 -2 1 - 12
Heavy Sanitizer Repeater 36" Heavy 3 6 -2 1 - 0
S.M.G. 18" Assault 6 3 0
1 Each time you make a hit roll of 6+ for this weapon make another hit roll. These further hit rolls may not generate any more. 2
Heavy S.M.G. 24" Heavy 24 5 -1 1 Each time you make a hit roll of 6+ for this weapon make another hit roll. These further hit rolls may not generate any more. 28
S.M.R. 30" Rapid Fire 3 3 -1 1 Each time you make a hit roll of 6+ for this weapon make another hit roll. These further hit rolls may not generate any more. 2
Hunting Rifle 30" Rapid Fire 1 4 0 1 1
Scoped Hunting Rifle 36" Rapid Fire 1 4 -2 1 This weapon may target a CHARACTER even if it is not the closest enemy unit. 4
Sniper Rifle 60" Heavy 1 5 -1 1 This weapon requires two hands to wield, as such, an INFANTRY model making a shooting attack with it cannot make a shooting attack with any other weapon during that Shooting phase. This weapon may target a CHARACTER even if it is not the closest enemy unit. 8
Light Cannon 36" Heavy 2D6 5 -1 1 - 12
Improvised Weapon (Shooting) 3D6" Assault D6 D3 0 1 0
Improvised Weapon (Melee) Melee Melee User 0 1 - 0
Improvised Heavy Weapon (Shooting) 5D6" Heavy D6 D6 -D3 D3 - 5
Improvised Heavy Weapon (Melee) Melee Melee +D3 -D3 D3 Each time the bearer fights, it can make 1 additional attack with this weapon. 5
Scavenger Shotmurder weapon 12" Assault 2 3 0 1 If the target is within half range, add 1 to this weapon’s Strength. 3
Sanitizer Murder weapon 48" Heavy 2 7 -1 2 15
Sanitizer Pod 48" Heavy 6 7 -1 2 Add 1 to all hit rolls made for this weapon against targets that can FLY. 0
Sanitizer Cannon 48" Heavy D6 8 -2 1 - 20
Sanitizer Storm 36" Assault 2D6 6 -1 1 - 20
Frag Grenade 9" Grenade D6 3 0 1 - 0
Mortar 48" Heavy D6 5 0 1 This weapon can target units that are not visible to the bearer. 8
Firebomb 6" Grenade D6 4 0 1 Add 1 to wound rolls for this weapon when targeting an INFANTRY unit. Every successful hit roll instead inflicts 3 hit rolls. 2
Earthshaker Murder weapon 120" Macro 3 16 -4 D3+6 Add 1 to all hit rolls made for this weapon against targets that cannot FLY. Subtract 1 from the hit rolls made for this weapon against all other targets. 20
Machete Melee Melee User -1 1 A model equipped with this weapon does not suffer a penalty to their movement for moving through forests. 7
Fire Axe Melee Melee +2 -2 2 When attacking with this weapon, you must subtract 1 from the To Hit roll. 10
AR-15 24” Assault 3 3 0 1 0
Flame Thrower 9” Assault D6 3 0 1 This weapon automatically hits 0
Heavy Flame Thrower 12” Assault 2D6 4 -1 2 This weapon automatically hits 8

Shotmurder weapon 18” Assault 2 4 -1 1 If the target is in half range add one to this weapons shots, strength, ap and damage. 0

Missile Launcher 48” Heavy 1 8 -2 D6 8

Napalm Cannon 18” Assault 4D6 6 -3 D3 This weapon automatically hits. 15

Auto Cannon 30” Rapid Fire 3 4 -1 1 0

Hydra Rocket Pods 24” Heavy D6 4 0 2 You may re-roll failed hit rolls of one for attacks by this weapon. 0

Combat Knife Melee Melee user 0 1 You may make one extra attack when attacking with this weapon 0

Enforcer Shotmurder weapon 20” Assault 4 5 -2 D3 If the target is in half range add one to this weapons shots, strength, ap and change its damage to D6 0

S.G.L. Choose one of the below profiles each turn. 0

Frag 6-48” Assault 1 3 -1 1 0

Sanitizer 36” Assault 1 5 -1 D3 0

Smoke 30” Assault 1 0 0 0 Minus 1 from hit rolls for the target unit until your next turn. 0

AR-15 grenade launcher 18” Assault 1 4 -1 1 One use only 0

RPG 42” Heavy 1 6 -1 3 5

Crossbow 24” Assault 1 3 -1 1 0

Chainsaw melee melee 4 -2 2 When attacking with this weapon, you must subtract 1 from the To Hit roll. 5

Breaching Ram 3” Melee 4 -1 D3 When attacking fortifications or vehicles with this weapon double its strength and ap and change its damage to D6. 0

Molotov Cocktail 9” Grenade 1 0 0 A lot This weapon instant kills all INFANTRY within 6” of the impact sight and does D6 mortal wounds to VEHICLES and BUILDINGS and 2D6 to everything else. Once per game. 15
Sanitizer Launcher Choose one of the profiles each time this weapon fires. 20
Mortar Blast 36" Heavy 3D6 4 -1 1 This weapon can target units not visible to the wielder.
Shotmurder weapon Blast 12" Heavy D6 6 -3 D6 All failed hit rolls with this weapon may be re-rolled.
SD Combined Rifle 36" Assault 1 5 -1 1 Add one to hit rolls made with this weapon. 8
SD Combined Carbine 18" Rapid Fire 2 4 0 1 8
Silenced Pistol 12" Heavy D6 6 -3 D6 This weapon is silenced as in the 40k rulebook. 5
Smoke Grenades 9" Grenade D3 0 0 0 Minus 1 from hit rolls for the target unit until your next turn. 3
Battle Rifle 24” Assault 3 3 -1 D3 You may re-roll failed wound rolls made by attacks with this weapon.
Stinger SAM 72” Heavy 1 7 -1 D6 Add1 to hit rolls made by this weapon against models that can FLY. Minus one from hit rolls against all other targets.

Equipment Effect Points Cost
Ballistic Shield Grants +1 toughness against shooting, +2 toughness against melee. 3
Geiger Counter 5
N.V.G.’s Night fighting rules have no effect. This model is not affected by smoke and the sight minus effects of gas. It will still be choked by gas though. 3
Gasmask This model may resist one mortal wound per turn and is immune to the choking effects of gas. 3
B.P.V. This models gains + 1 to its armour save 3
Bulletproof Mask This model has a 6+ invulnerable save. If this model already has an invulnerable save, then add 1 to invulnerable saving throws made for this model.
3
Torch A torch is used when the night fighting rules are in effect. If a model has a torch it can instead of firing its weapons it may choose to illuminate a target. The target loses the benefit of night fighting, but so does the firing model. 5
Parachute The bearer can deep-strike 8
Grappling hook The bearer doesn’t count vertical distances when moving. 5

Weapon Options

Infantry Weapons
• AR-15
• Shotmurder weapon
• Flamethrower
• EMP pistol
• Machete
• Fire axe
• Ballistic shield
• Torch
• BPV
• Bulletproof mask
• Crossbow
• Breaching ram
• Hydra rocket pods
• Grenade launcher
• Sniper rifle
• Scoped hunting rifle
• Hunting rifle
• SMR
• SMG
• Sanitizer Rifle
• Sanitizer Repeater

Marine Weapons
• AR-15
• Shotmurder weapon
• Flamethrower
Tank Turret Weapons
• Sanitizer Launcher
• Quad Sanitizer Repeater
• Quad Heavy Minimurder weapon
• Quad Minimurder weapon
• Twin Heavy sanitizer repeater
• Quad Heavy SMG
• Quad Light Cannon
• Quad Sanitizer Murder weapon
• Quad Sanitizer Pod
• Quad Sanitizer Storm
• Quad Mortar
• Quad Heavy Flamethrower
• Twin Napalm Cannon
• Quad Autocannon
• Quad S.G.L.

Mech Weapons
• Minimurder weapon
• S.G.L.
• Sanitizer Murder weapon
• Twin Sanitizer Pod
• Twin Hydra Rocket Pods
• Twin Autocannons
• Sanitizer Storm
• Heavy S.M.G.
• Sanitizer Launcher
• Heavy Flame Thrower
• Missile Launcher
• Fire Axe
• Machete
• Chainsaw
Spectre Weapons
• SD Combined Rifle
• SD Combined Carbine
• Combat Knife and Silenced pistol
Equipment
• Ballistic shield
• Geiger counter
• N.V.G.’s
• BPV
• Bulletproof mask
• Grappling hook
• Parachute
• Torch
• gasmask

Infantry Heavy Weapons
• Minimurder weapon
• Missile launcher
• Sanitizer murder weapon
• Autocannon
• Heavy flamethrower
• Hydra rocket pod
• S.G.L.
• R.P.G.
Scavenger Weapons
• Improvised Weapon
• Improvised Heavy Weapon
• Machete
• Fire Axe
• SMG
• Grenade Launcher
• Ballistic Shield
• Torch
• BPV
• Bullet proof Mask
• Gasmask
• NVG
• Crossbow
• Chainsaw
• Scavenger Shotmurder weapon
• Hunting Rifle
• Firebomb

Unique HQ Characters
Verrotrus Issoss
Power 10, Points per model 170
“A good soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
10" 2+ 2+ 4 4 6 4 10 3+

Verrotrus Issoss is a single model armed with The Dead Man’s Hand and The Disciples Bane. Only one of this model may be included in your army.
Weapon Range Type S AP D Abilities
The Dead Man’s Hand Melee Melee X2 -4 D6 Roll two dice when inflicting damage with this weapon and discard the lowest result.
The Disciples Bane 0 0 0 Choose one or both of the profiles below. If you choose both, subtract 1 from all hit rolls made with this weapon.
Master Crafted Mini-Murder weapon 24" Assault 2D6 4 -1 1 When targeting units with 10 or more models, change this weapon’s Type to Assault 4D6. Each time you make a hit roll of 6+ for this weapon make another hit roll. These further hit rolls may not generate any more.
Master Crafted Flame-thrower 12" Assault D6 6 -2 D3 This weapon automatically hits. When targeting units with 10 or more models, change this weapon’s Type to Assault 2D6.

Abilities:
• Fuck You Nurgle: This Model may re-roll all failed hit and wound rolls made against models with the Nurgle keyword.
• The Dead Man’s Hand: Once per battle you may re-roll a single hit roll, wound roll, save roll, or damage roll for this model. These re-rolls may re-roll re-rolls. In addition, if your army is battle forged and this model is on the field, roll a D6 every time you or your opponent spend a command point; on a 5+ you gain a command point.
• Low Altitude Drop: During deployment you may set up this model in a transport plane instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your movement phases this model may jump down into the battle-set them up anywhere on the battlefield. In addition, this model does 2D6 mortal wounds to every model within 9” of his landing site.
• Jetpack: this model may move over terrain and enemy models as if they were not there.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords (Verrotrus Issoss): CHARACTER, FLY, INFANTRY, COMMANDER, JET-PACK, Verrotrus Issoss
Geropito Medon
“War does not determine who is right, but who is left.”
Power 9, Points per model 150
M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
6" 2+ 2+ 4 4 5 5 9 3+

Geropito Medon is a single model armed with . Your army may only include one of this model.

Weapon Range Type S AP D Abilities

Abilities:
•

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, INFANTRY, Geropito Medon

HQ Units
Commander
Power 5, Points per model 85
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Commander 6" 3+ 3+ 3 4 3 3 8 4+

A Commander is a single model armed with an AR-15.
Wargear Options: The Commander may replace his AR-15 for 2 items from the Infantry Weapons list or an item from the Infantry Heavy Weapons list.
The commander may take up to two items from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Commander: You can re-roll wound rolls of 1 made for friendly N.R.F. units within 6" of this model.
• Heroes Harness: Grants a 5+ invulnerable save.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, INFANTRY, COMMANDER

Lieutenant
Power 4, Points per model 70
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Lieutenant 6" 3+ 3+ 3 4 3 2 8 4+

A Lieutenant is a single model armed with an AR-15.
Wargear Options: The Lieutenant may replace his AR-15 for an item from the Infantry Weapons list.
The lieutenant may take up to two items from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Lieutenant: Friendly N.R.F. units within 9” of this model may add one to their leadership characteristic. In addition, if the last model in a unit is removed as a casualty within 12” of a friendly LIEUTENANT, you may roll a dice before removing the model. On a 5+ you may make either a shooting attack with that model as if it was your shooting phase or a melee attack as if it was your fight phase.
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, INFANTRY, LIUETENANT

Medic
Power 4, Points per model 70
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Medic 6" 4+ 3+ 3 4 2 2 7 4+

A Medic is a single model armed with an AR-15 and a med-kit.
Wargear Options: The Medic may replace his AR-15 for an item from the Infantry Weapons list.
The medic may take up to two items from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Medkit: At the end of any of your movement phases, A medic may attempt to heal or revive a single model. Select a friendly N.R.F. INFANTRY unit within 3” of the medic. If that unit contains a wounded model, it immediately regains D3 lost wounds. If the chosen unit contains no wounded models, but one or more of its models have been slain during the battle, roll a D6. On a 4+ a single slain model is returned to the unit with one wounded remaining. If a Medic fails to revive in this manner, he can do nothing else for the remainder of the turn. A unit can only be the target of the medic ability once per turn.
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, INFANTRY, MEDIC

Vox Caster
Power 4, Points per model 70
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Medic 6" 4+ 3+ 3 4 2 2 7 4+

A Vox Caster is a single model armed with an AR-15 and a Vox field relay.
Wargear Options: The Vox caster may replace his AR-15 for an item from the Infantry Weapons list.
The Vox Caster may take up to two items from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Vox Relay: Each turn this model may issue one command to his army. At the start of your movement phase pick one of the following commands.
Fire at Will; every unit in your army may make one extra shooting attack
Hold Your Ground; every unit in your army may re-roll failed save rolls of 1
Storm the Bastards; every unit in your army may advance and fire rapid fire weapons but at a minus 1 to hit. They also ignore the penalty for advancing and firing assault weapons and moving and firing heavy weapons
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, INFANTRY, VOX CASTER

Spectre Lieutenant
Power 5, Points per model 85
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Lieutenant 7" 3+ 3+ 3 3 3 4 8 4+

A Spectre Lieutenant is a single model armed with an SD combined rifle, NVG’S and smoke grenades.
Wargear Options: The Lieutenant may replace his SD combined rifle for up to two items from the Spectre Weapons list.
The lieutenant may take up to two items from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Lieutenant: Friendly N.R.F. units within 9” of this model may add one to their leadership characteristic. In addition, if the last model in a unit is removed as a casualty within 12” of a friendly LIEUTENANT, you may roll a dice before removing the model. On a 5+ you may make either a shooting attack with that model as if it was your shooting phase or a melee attack as if it was your fight phase.
• Active Camouflage: During deployment this model may set up anywhere on the battlefield that is not within your enemies deployment zone and not within 12” of any enemy.
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, SPECTRE, INFANTRY, LIUETENANT

Mech Lieutenant
Power 5, Points per model 85
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Lieutenant 10" 3+ 3+ 5 5 4 2 8 2+

A Mech Lieutenant is a single model armed with two EMP pistols.
Wargear Options: The Mech Lieutenant may replace his EMP pistols for two items from the Mech Weapons list.
The Mech lieutenant may take up to two items from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Lieutenant: Friendly N.R.F. units within 9” of this model may add one to their leadership characteristic. In addition, if the last model in a unit is removed as a casualty within 12” of a friendly LIEUTENANT, you may roll a dice before removing the model. On a 5+ you may make either a shooting attack with that model as if it was your shooting phase or a melee attack as if it was your fight phase.
• Low Altitude Drop: During deployment you may set up this model in a transport plane instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your movement phases this model may jump down into the battle-set them up anywhere on the battlefield at least 9” away from an enemy model.
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, MECH, FLY, JETPACK INFANTRY, LIUETENANT

Honour Guard
Power 2, Points per model 45
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Elite Guard 6" 3+ 3+ 4 4 2 2 8 3+
Brute Guard 5" 3+ 4+ 4 5 2 3 8 3+

This unit contains 2 Honour Guard. Honour guard are armed with Honour Pikes (count as Machetes).
Wargear Options:
• Any Honour Guard may take an item from the infantry Weapons list.
• Any Honour Guard may take frag and sanitizer grenades.
• Any honour guard may take an item from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
• You Will Not Lay A Hand Upon Him: Roll a D6 each time a friendly N.R.F. CHARACTER loses a wound whilst they are within 3" of this unit; on a 2+ a model from this unit can intercept that hit – the CHARACTER does not lose a wound, but this unit suffers a mortal wound.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, HONOUR GUARD

Specialist Honour Guard
Power 5, Points per model 45
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Spectre Guard 7" 3+ 3+ 3 3 3 4 8 34+
Mech Guard 10” 3+ 3+ 5 5 4 2 8 2+

This unit contains 2 Spectre Guards or 2 Mech Guards. The unit may contain 2 additional Guards (the entire unit must be the same species, Power Rating +2). All guards are armed with Honour Pikes (count as Machetes). Spectre Guards are also armed with SD Combined Rifles, NVG’S and Smoke Grenades and Mech Guards are also armed with Two EMP pistols.
Wargear Options:
• Any Spectre Guard may replace its SD combined Rifle with an item from the Spectre Weapons list.
• Any Mech Guard may replace both its EMP pistols with an item from the Mech Weapons list.
• Any Mech Guard may take Firebombs
• Any honour guard may take an item from the equipment list
Abilities
• Lesser Heroes Harness: Grants a 6+ invulnerable save.
• You Will Not Lay A Hand Upon Him: Roll a D6 each time a friendly N.R.F. CHARACTER loses a wound whilst they are within 3" of this unit; on a 2+ a model from this unit can intercept that hit – the CHARACTER does not lose a wound, but this unit suffers a mortal wound.
• Active Camouflage (spectre guard): During deployment this model may set up anywhere on the battlefield that is not within your enemies deployment zone and not within 12” of any enemy.
• Low Altitude Drop (mech guard): During deployment you may set up this model in a transport plane instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your movement phases this model may jump down into the battle-set them up anywhere on the battlefield at least 9” away from an enemy model.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords (Spectre Guard): SPECTRE, INFANTRY, HONOUR GUARD
Keywords (Mech Guard): MECH, FLY, JETPACK, INFANTRY, HONOUR GUARD,
Engineer
Power 4, Points per model 45
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Engineer 6" 4+ 3+ 3 3 2 1 7 5+

The Engineer is a single model armed with a Pistol and the engineers toolkit.
Abilities:
• Technological field: Any allied model within 6" of the Engineer has a 6+ invulnerable save. If the model already has an invulnerable save, then it is improved by 1.
• Engineers Toolkit: At the end of your Movement phase this model can repair a single friendly N.R.F. VEHICLE or MECH within 3". That model regains D3 lost wounds. A model may not be the target of the Engineers Toolkit ability more than once per turn, regardless of the source.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, ENGINEER,
Scavenger Champion
Power 2, Points per model 25
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Scavenger Champion 6" 3+ 3+ 3 2 2 2 7 5+

The Scavenger Champion is a single model armed with a Pistol.
Wargear Options:
• Any Champion may take an item from the Scavenger Weapons list.

Abilities:
• Champion: You can re-roll hit rolls of 1 made for friendly SCAVENGER units within 6" of this model.
• Sneaky: During deployment, you may setup the Scavenger Champion as hidden on the battlefield instead of placing him on the battlefield. At the end of any of your Movement phases, he may reveal himself – set him up anywhere on the battlefield that is more than 9" from any enemy models.
• Swift: At the start of the first battle round but before the first turn begins, you can move this unit up to 8". It cannot end this move within 9" of any enemy models. If both players have units that can do this, the player who is taking the first turn moves their units first.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: CHARACTER, INFANTRY, SCAVENGER, CHAMPION

Troops
Marine Squad
Power 4, Points per model 13
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Marine 6" 4+ 4+ 3 4 1 1 7 4+
Marine Sergeant 6” 4+ 4+ 3 4 1 2 8 4+

This unit contains 5 Marines armed with AR-15, pistols, gasmask and frag and sanitizer grenades. The unit may contain 5 additional Marines (Power Rating +4) or 10 additional Marines (Power Rating +8). A marine sergeant may take the place of one marine.
Wargear Options:
• For every 10 Marines, one Marine may take an item from the Infantry Heavy Weapons list.
• Any Marine may replace his AR-15 with a weapon from the marine weapons list.
• The marine sergeant may replace his AR-15 with two weapons from the infantry weapons list.
• One model per squad may take a Molotov cocktail.
• The entire squad may take three items from the equipment list
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, MARINE

Scavenger Band
Power 5, Points per model 7
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Scavenger 6" 5+ 5+ 3 3 1 1 6 5+

This unit contains 10 scavengers armed with Improvised Weapons. The unit may contain 5 additional Scavengers (Power Rating +2) or 10 additional Scavengers (Power Rating +4) or 15 additional Scavengers (Power Rating +6).
Wargear Options:
• For Every 10 models in this unit on may replace his improvised weapon with an improvised heavy weapon.
• The scavenger chief may replace his improvised weapon with a weapon from the Scavenger weapons list
Abilities:
• Sneaky: During deployment, you may setup this unit as hidden on the battlefield instead of placing him on the battlefield. At the end of any of your Movement phases, he may reveal himself – set him up anywhere on the battlefield that is more than 9" from any enemy models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, KIG'YAR
Dedicated Transports
Light Troop Transport
Power 5, Points per model 35
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Light Troop Transport 8" 4+ - 4 4 6 4 8 3+

A Light Troop Transport is a single model.
Abilities:
• Open-topped: Up to 3 units embarked on this transport may shoot out of it. For the purposes of this rule Heavy weapons teams count as 3 models.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 10 N.R.F. INFANTRY models with the exception of MECHS. Heavy weapons teams count as three models for the purposes of this rules
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, TRANSPORT
A.P.C.
Power 8, Points per model 50
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Shadow * 6+ * 6 7 10 * 7 3+

Remaining W M BS A
6-10+ 10" 4+ 3
3-5 8" 5+ D3
1-2 4" 6+ 1
An APC is a single model equipped with a Sanitizer Murder weapon.
Options: May exchange its Sanitizer Murder weapon for a:
-Heavy S.M.G.
-Twin S.M.R.
-Sanitizer Cannon
Abilities:
• Explodes: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 15 N.R.F. INFANTRY models with the exception of MECHS. Heavy weapons teams count as 3 models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, TRANSPORT
Instigator
Power 6, Points per model 35
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Instigator 10" 4+ 4+ 4 4 5 D3 8 3+

An Instigator is a single model. It may include one additional Instigator (power + 5) or two additional instigators (power + 10)
Options: This model may take a Minimurder weapon, but its transport capacity will become one.
Abilities
• Open-topped: Units embarked on this transport may shoot out of it.

Transport Capacity: This model can transport 3 N.R.F. INFANTRY models. It may not transport mechs. Heavy weapons teams count as 3 models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, TRANSPORT, OUTRIDERS, INSTIGATOR
Elites
Pulse Mechs
Power 6, Points per model 45
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Pulse Mech 8" 4+ 3+ 4 4 3 3 8 3+

This unit contains 4 pulse mechs. It may contain up to two additional Pulse mechs(Power +3) or up to four additional Pulse Mechs(Power +6). Each Pulse Mech is armed with two EMP pistols.

Wargear Options:
• Any Pulse Mech may replace its EMP pistols with a grenade launcher.
• For every 4 models in the squad one model may replace all its weapon with a weapon from the mech weapons list.
• The entire squad may take an item from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Low Altitude Drop: During deployment you may set up this model in a transport plane instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your movement phases this model may jump down into the battle-set them up anywhere on the battlefield at least 9” away from an enemy model.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, MECH, PULSE MECH

Drone Controller
Power 1, Points per model 17
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Drone Controller 6" 4+ 3+ 3 3 2 2 8 4+

This unit contains 1 drone controller armed with a pistol, a combat knife, a gasmask and a torch.

Wargear Options:
• This model may take up to 2 items from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Drone Uplink: you can add 1 to hit rolls for Drones in the shooting phase when they attack a unit visible to a friendly drone controller.
• Marksman stealth field: This model adds two rather than 1 to its armour save for being in cover.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY

Grenadiers
Power 6, Points per model 20
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Grenadier 6" 4+ 3+ 3 4 2 2 8 3+
Field
Commander 6” 4+ 3+ 3 4 2 3 9 3+

This unit contains 5 Grenadiers armed with battle rifles and grenade launchers. The unit may contain 5 additional grenadiers (Power Rating +5). One model per squad may be upgraded to a field commander.
Wargear Options:
• For every 5 Grenadiers, one grenadier may take an item from the Infantry Heavy Weapons List.
• Any grenadier may replace all its weapons for a sniper rifle.
• The entire squad may take 2 items from the equipment list.
• Every model in this squad may replace all its weapons for a breaching shield and a shotmurder weapon.
• Any model may replace its shotmurder weapon for a breaching ram or grenade launcher.
Abilities –
• Grenade Specialists: This model may throw a grenade in addition to firing both its weapons each shooting phase.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, GRENADIERS

Spectre Operatives
Power 8, Points per model 19
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
SpecOps 7" 3+ 3+ 3 3 1 3 7 4+

This unit contains 5 Spectre Operatives armed with SD combined Rifles, NVG’S and Smoke Grenades. The unit may contain 5 additional Spectre Operatives (Power Rating +7)
Wargear Options:
• Any Spectre Operative may replace his SD combined Rifle with a weapon from the spectre weapons list.
• The entire unit may take 2 items from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Active Camouflage: During deployment, you may setup this unit as hidden on the battlefield instead of placing him on the battlefield. At the end of any of your Movement phases, he may reveal himself – set them up anywhere on the battlefield that is more than 9" from any enemy models.

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, SPECIAL OPERATIONS, SPECTRE OPERATIVES

Unity Guard
Power 8, Points per model 19
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Unity Guard 5" 3+ 3+ 3 3 2 1 10 4+

This unit contains 5 Unity Guard armed with enforcer shotmurder weapons. The unit may contain 5 additional Unity Guard (Power Rating +7)
Wargear Options:
-For every 5 models in the unit one must replace his enforcer shotmurder weapon with a flamethrower.
The entire unit may take 1 item from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Defend the Civilians: If any CIVILIANS die within 9” of a model from this unit add one to this unit’s attacks for the rest of the turn.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, SPECIAL OPERATIONS, UNITY GUARD
Tracer Exo-mechs
Power 8, Points per model 19
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Tracer Exo-Mechs 10" 3+ 3+ 3 4 2 3 8 4+

This unit contains 5 Tracer Mech armed with SMR’s. The unit may contain 5 additional Tracer Exo-Mechs (Power Rating +7)
Wargear Options:
-Any Model may replace his SMR with a Grenade Launcher
-For every 5 models in the unit one may take a hydra rocket pod.
The entire unit may take 1 item from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Attachment: A single tracer mech may be attached to a Grenadier unit at (power + 2).
• Airborne: This model can only be charged by models that can fly and can only be attacked in the fight phase by models that can fly.
• Ground-Pound: At the end of this model’s movement, you may choose to do pound this model into the ground and inflict D3 mortal wounds to every unit within 3” of a model from this unit, not counting this unit.
• Low Altitude Drop: During deployment you may set up this model in a transport plane instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your movement phases this model may jump down into the battle-set them up anywhere on the battlefield at least 9” away from an enemy model.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, MECH, FLY, JETPACK, TRACER

Ajax Exo-mechs
Power 8, Points per model 19
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Ajax Exo-Mechs 16" 3+ 3+ 4 5 2 3 8 2+

This unit contains 3 Ajax Mech armed with SMG’s. The unit may contain 2 additional Ajax Exo-mechs (Power Rating +3)
Wargear Options:
-Any Model may take a weapon from the Mech weapons list.
The entire unit may take 1 item from the equipment list
Abilities:
• Low Altitude Drop: During deployment you may set up this model in a transport plane instead of placing them on the battlefield. At the end of any of your movement phases this model may jump down into the battle-set them up anywhere on the battlefield at least 9” away from an enemy model.
• Crushing Charge: When this unit charges an enemy unit inflict one mortal wound for every model from your unit in base contact with an enemy model. This unit automatically charges 12”.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, MECH, AJAX
Fast Attack
Grenadier Bike Squad
Power 5, Points per model 25
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Bikers 14" 3+ 3+ 4 5 2 1 7 3+

This unit contains 3 Grenadier Bikes armed with a Battle rifle and a grenade launcher. The unit may contain 3 additional Bikers (Power Rating +4) or 5 additional Bikers (Power Rating +6)
Wargear Options: Any Bike may replace their Battle rifle and Grenade launcher with:
• Two Battle Rifles
• Two Grenade Launchers
The entire squad may take up to 2 items from the equipment list.

Abilities:
• Jink: If this unit advance it gains a 4+ invulnerable save against all shooting attack until the start if your next movement phase.
• Turbo-Boost: When this unit advances add 6” to its movement instead of rolling a dice.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: BIKER, GRENADIERS,
Scavenger Bike Band
Power 4, Points per model 25
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Bikers 16" 3+ 3+ 3 4 2 1 7 4+

This unit contains 3 Scavenger Bikes armed with two scavenger shotmurder weapons. The unit may contain 3 additional Bikers (Power Rating +3) or 5 additional Bikers (Power Rating +4)
Wargear Options: Any Bike may replace their scavenger shotmurder weapons with:
• Two improvised weapons
• An improvised heavy weapon
The entire squad may take 1 item from the equipment list.
Abilities:
• Jink: If this unit advance it gains a 4+ invulnerable save against all shooting attack until the start if your next movement phase.
• Turbo-Boost: When this unit advances add 6” to its movement instead of rolling a dice.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: BIKER, SCAVENGERS,

Quadcopter Done
Power 4, Points per model 25
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Drone 10" 5+ 4+ 3 3 1 1 5 5+

This unit contains 3 Quadcopter Drones armed with an AR-15. The unit may contain 3 additional Drones (Power Rating +3) or 5 additional Drones (Power Rating +4)
Wargear Options: Any Drone may replace their AR-15 with a torch.
Abilities:
• Threat Identification Protocols: In the shooting phase drone may only target the closet enemy unit. If two units are equally close, then you may choose which is targeted.
• Turbo-Boost: When this unit advances add 6” to its movement instead of rolling a dice.
• Attachment: A single Drone may be attached to a Marine unit at (power + 1).

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: FLY, DRONE,

Quad Crashers
Power 4, Points per model 25
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Quad Crasher 12" 3+ 3+ 4 5 3 2 7 3+

This unit contains 1 Quad Crasher armed with two AR-15 and a missile launcher. The unit may contain 1 additional quad crasher (Power Rating +3) or 2 additional quad (Power Rating +4) crashers
Wargear Options:
• Any Quad may replace its AR-15’s with two weapons from the marine weapons
list.
• Any Quad may replace its missile launcher with a weapon from the infantry heavy weapons list.
• The entire squad may take up to 2 items from the equipment list.

Abilities:
• Turbo-Boost: When this unit advances add 6” to its movement instead of rolling a dice.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: BIKER, SCAVENGERS,
Assorted Cars
Power 5, Points per model 75
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Cars * 4+ * 5 6 8 * 7 4+

Remaining W M BS A
6-8+ 12" 4+ 3
3-5 8" 5+ D3
1-2 4" 6+ 1
A Car is a single model equipped with a twin autocannon.
Options: May exchange its twin autocannon for a weapon from the mech weapons list.
Abilities:
• Explodes: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Turbo-Boost: When this unit advances add 6” to its movement instead of rolling a dice.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE,
Heavy Support
Goliath
Power 4, Points per model 70
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Goliath 5" 4+ 3+ 5 4 4 D3 8 3+

This unit consists of 1 Goliath Assault Mech armed with a heavy Gatling murder weapon and a heavy flamethrower.
Wargear Options: This model may any of its weapons with two of the following:
• Heavy Gatling Murder weapon
• Heavy Flamethrower
• Light Cannon
• Twin Hydra Rocket Pods
Abilities
• Stomp: At the end of this model’s movement phase you may pick one unit this model moved within 3” of in its move. Inflict D3 mortal wounds to that unit. This is optional.
• Advanced Targeting Systems: This unit does not suffer the to hit penalty for moving and firing heavy weapons

Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, MECH, GOLIATH

Missile Support Squad
Power 8, Points per model 13
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
MSS 6" 4+ 3+ 3 4 1 1 7 4+

This unit consists of 5 Missile Support Soldiers armed with a missile launcher and a pistol. This unit may consist of 5 additional missile support soldiers (power +7)
Wargear Options: This model may replace its missile launcher with a:
• Sanitizer Murder weapon
• R.P.G.
• Stinger SAM
Abilities
• Advanced Targeting Systems: This unit does not suffer the to hit penalty for moving and firing heavy weapons
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, MARINE,
Heavy Weapons Team
Power 8, Points per model 13
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
MSS 4" 4+ 3+ 3 4 2 2 7 4+

This unit consists of 3 Marines armed with an AR-15, a pistol, a gasmask and frag and sanitizer grenades, and 3 heavy weapons teams.
Wargear Options: All heavy weapons teams must take a twin weapon from the heavy weapons list or a mortar.
Any marine may replace his AR-15 for a weapon from the marine weapons list.
The entire squad may take up to 2 items from the equipment list.
Abilities
• Advanced Targeting Systems: This unit does not suffer the to hit penalty for moving and firing heavy weapons
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: INFANTRY, MARINE,

Light Tank
Power 8, Points per model 75
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Shadow * 6+ * 6 7 10 * 7 3+

Remaining W M BS A
6-10+ 7" 4+ 3
3-5 5" 5+ D3
1-2 3" 6+ 1
A Light Tank is a single model equipped with a Twin Sanitizer Murder weapon and an AR-15.
Options: May exchange its Twin Sanitizer Murder weapon for a twin infantry heavy weapon.
May exchange its AR-15 for a weapon from the infantry weapons list.
Abilities:
• Explodes: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, TANK

Heavy Tank
Power 12, Points per model 100
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Shadow * 6+ * 6 7 10 * 7 3+

Remaining W M BS A
6-10+ 8" 3+ 3
3-5 6" 4+ D3
1-2 4" 5+ 1
A Heavy Tank is a single model equipped with a Twin Sanitizer Murder weapon, an AR-15 and a twin sanitizer launcher.
Options: May exchange its Twin Sanitizer Murder weapon for a twin infantry heavy weapon.
May exchange its AR-15 for a weapon from the infantry weapons list.
May exchange its Twin sanitizer launcher for a weapon from the tank turret weapons list.
Abilities:
• Explodes: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Enhanced Targeting Systems: This model does not suffer the to hit penalty for moving and firing heavy weapons.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, TANK
Flyers
Vendetta
Power 8, Points per model 75
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Banshee 20-35" 6+ 3+ 4 5 6 2 7 3+

This unit contains one Vendetta equipped with a Two Missile Launchers and a Twin Autocannon. It can include 1 additional Vendetta (Power Rating +8) or 2 additional Vendetta (Power Rating +16).
Wargear Option: Any Vendetta may replace its Two missile launchers with Two twin Hydra Rocket Pods.
Abilities:
• Airborne: This model cannot charge, can only be charged by units that can FLY, and can only attack or be attacked in the Fight phase by units that can FLY.
• Advanced Targeting Systems: This unit does not suffer the to hit penalty for moving and firing heavy weapons

• Supersonic: Each time this model moves, first pivot it on the spot up to 90° (this does not contribute to how far the model moves), and then move the model straight forwards. Note that it cannot pivot again after the initial pivot. When this model Advances, increase its Move characteristic by 20" until the end of the phase –do not roll a dice.
• Hard to Hit: Your opponent must subtract 1 from hit rolls for attacks that target this model in the Shooting phase.
• Strafing Run: You can add 1 to hit rolls for this model when targeting an enemy in the Shooting phase that cannot FLY.
• Hover Propulsion: Before this model moves in your Movement phase, you can declare it will hover. Its Move characteristic becomes 20" until the end of the phase, and it loses the Hard to Hit and Supersonic abilities until the beginning of your next Movement phase.
• Crash and Burn: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing the model from the battlefield; on a 6 it crashes and explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Vendetta Squadron: The first time this unit is setup, all models in this unit must be placed within 6" of each other. From that point onwards, each operates independently and is treated as a separate unit for all rule’s purposes.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, FLY
Marauder Transport
Power 15, Points per model 170
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Marauder * 6+ * 8 10 20 * 8 3+

Remaining W M BS A
14-20+ 20-80" 4+ 3
7-13 20-50" 5+ D3
1-6 20-30" 6+ 1
This unit contains one Marauder equipped with a sponson-mounted Twin autocannon.
Wargear Options: May take up to 4 sponson-mounted Twin Autocannons.
Abilities:
• Airborne: This model cannot charge, can only be charged by units that can FLY, and can only attack or be attacked in the Fight phase by units that can FLY.
• Supersonic: Each time this model moves, first pivot it on the spot up to 90° (this does not contribute to how far the model moves), and then move the model straight forwards. Note that it cannot pivot again after the initial pivot. When this model Advances, increase its Move characteristic by 20" until the end of the phase –do not roll a dice.
• Hard to Hit: Your opponent must subtract 1 from hit rolls for attacks that target this model in the Shooting phase.
• Crash and Burn: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Dropship Landing Zone: to disembark models from this vehicle it must land. If it lands it cannot move and loses the airborne and hard to hit abilities whilst it has landed. This rule is ignored if the embarked units have parachutes.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 20 B.R.F INFANTRY models. Each MECH takes the space of two infantry models. Each vehicle (with the exception of TANKs) takes up the space of 5 infantry models. Each TANK takes up the space of 10 infantry models.
Faction Keywords: B.R.F
Keywords: VEHICLE, FLY, TRANSPORT
Hornet
Power 4, Points per model 56
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Hornet 20”" 6+ 4+ 4 5 4 2 7 4+

This unit contains one Hornet equipped with a Twin Autocannon and a Two shotmurder weapons. It can include 1 additional Hornet (Power Rating +4) or 2 additional Hornets (Power Rating +8).
Wargear Option: Any Hornet may replace its shotmurder weapons with hydra rocket pods
Abilities:
• Airborne: This model cannot charge, can only be charged by units that can FLY, and can only attack or be attacked in the Fight phase by units that can FLY.
• Hard to Hit: Your opponent must subtract 1 from hit rolls for attacks that target this model in the Shooting phase.
• Strafing Run: You can add 1 to hit rolls for this model when targeting an enemy in the Shooting phase that cannot FLY.
• Crash and Burn: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing the model from the battlefield; on a 6 it crashes and explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Hornet Squadron: The first time this unit is setup, all models in this unit must be placed within 6" of each other. From that point onwards, each operates independently and is treated as a separate unit for all rule’s purposes.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, FLY, GRENADIERS
Marauder Bomber
Power 15, Points per model 170
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Marauder * 6+ * 8 10 20 * 8 3+

Remaining W M BS A
14-20+ 20-80" 4+ 3
7-13 20-50" 5+ D3
1-6 20-30" 6+ 1
This unit contains one Marauder equipped with a sponson-mounted Twin autocannon.
Wargear Options: May take up to 4 sponson-mounted Twin Autocannons.
Abilities:
• Airborne: This model cannot charge, can only be charged by units that can FLY, and can only attack or be attacked in the Fight phase by units that can FLY.
• Supersonic: Each time this model moves, first pivot it on the spot up to 90° (this does not contribute to how far the model moves), and then move the model straight forwards. Note that it cannot pivot again after the initial pivot. When this model Advances, increase its Move characteristic by 20" until the end of the phase –do not roll a dice.
• Hard to Hit: Your opponent must subtract 1 from hit rolls for attacks that target this model in the Shooting phase.
• Crash and Burn: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Bombs Away: Up to 5 times per game, you may select one unit this model has moved over that turn. That unit immediately suffers D3D6 mortal wounds. This unit may immediately disembark all embarked models when it does this. If this model does so all the disembarked models cannot be shot or charged for one turn.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 5 JET-PACK models. It may also transport Ben Pickens or Jae-ha Kim at no additional transport space.
Faction Keywords: B.R.F
Keywords: VEHICLE, FLY, TRANSPORT

Lords of War
Armoured Train
Power 80, Points per model 200
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Locomotive * 5+ * 8 10 18 5 8 2+
Infantry Carriage * - * 8 9 18 - 7 3+
Murder weapon Carriage * - * 8 9 18 - 7 3+
Tank Carriage * - * 7 6 18 - 7 4+

Remaining W M BS
14-18+ 14" 2+
9-13 11" 3+
4-8 8" 3+
1-3 5" 4+
This unit contains one Locomotive, one Murder weapon Carriage, one Infantry Carriage and one Tank Carriage. A Murder weapon Carriage is equipped with a light cannon and Quad autocannon. This unit may include up to 3 additional infantry carriages (+ 20 power per model), up to 3 additional murder weapon carriages (+ 20 power per model) and up to 3 additional tank carriages (+ 20 power per model).
Weapon Options
• A murder weapon carriage may replace its quad auto cannon with a quad infantry heavy weapon or a twin mortar.
Abilities:
• Train: This model can must always be on train tracks.
• Locomotive Engine: if the locomotive is destroyed this model cannot move.
• Explodes: If this a model from this unit is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 6+ it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D6 mortal wounds.
• CHOO CHOO: This model can move over models that either don’t have the TITANIC keyword or have more than 15 wounds. If this unit moves over any models they are instantly killed.
• Advanced Targeting Systems: This unit does not suffer the to hit penalty for moving and firing heavy weapons
• Train Link: This model must always start in reserves. This model may move off the table. If it does on your next turn it may move back onto the table where it first came on.
Transport Capacity: An infantry carriage can transport 15 infantry models. MECHS take up the space of 3 infantry models. A tank carriage may transport either 2 light tanks or one heavy tank.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, TITANIC, TRANSPORT

Fortifications
Earthshaker Emplacement
Power 9, Points per model 190
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Earthshaker Emplacement 0" - 4+ - 9 20 - - 3+

This unit contains one Earthshaker Emplacement equipped with an Earthshaker Murder weapon.

Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• Automated Weapons: Unless a friendly unit is embarked inside this model, each of its weapons can only target the nearest visible enemy. If two or more units are equally close, you may choose which is targeted.
• Fire Points: 10 models embarked in this model can shoot in their Shooting phase, measuring range and drawing line of sight from any point on this model. They can do this even if enemy models are within 1" of this model.
• Magazine Explosion: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield and before any embarked models disembark. On a 4+ its Magazine explodes, and each unit within D6" suffers D6 mortal wounds.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 20 N.R.F. INFANTRY models. Each MECH takes the space of three infantry models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING, TRANSPORT
Automated Turrets
Power 6, Points per model 80
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Plasma Turret 0" - 4+ - 8 10 - - 3+

An Automated Turret is a single model equipped with a Twin Minimurder weapon. It can include one additional Automated Turret (Power Rating +6).
Wargear Options:
• Replace its twin minimurder weapon with one of the following:
-Two Mortars
-Two Heavy SMG’s
-Two Sanitizer Murder weapons
Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• Automated Weapons: This models weapons can only target the nearest visible enemy unit. If two or more units are equally close, you may choose which is targeted.
• Magazine Explosion: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield. On a 6 its magazine explodes, and each unit within 2D6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
Faction Keywords: B.R.F
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING

Deployable Watchtower
Power 3, Points per model 70
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Deployable Watchtower 0" - - - 7 10 - - 4+

A Deployable Watchtower is a single model. It can include an additional Deployable Watchtower (Power Rating +3).
Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• Explodes: If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield. On a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 6" suffers D3 mortal wounds.
• Open Topped: Models embarked on a Deployable Watchtower can attack in their Shooting phase. Measure the range and draw line of sight from any point on the model they are embarked on. When they do so, any restrictions or modifiers that apply to this model also apply to its passengers; for example, the passengers cannot shoot if this model has Fallen Back in the same turn, the passengers cannot shoot (except with Pistols) if this model is within 1" of an enemy unit, and so on.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 3 N.R.F. INFANTRY models. Each MECH takes the space of three infantry models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING, TRANSPORT
Bunker
Power 7, Points per model 100
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Bunker 0" - - - 10 15 - - 4+

A Bunker is a single model.
Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• Fire Points: up to 6 models embarked on a Bunker can attack in their Shooting phase. Measure the range and draw line of sight from a window on the model they are embarked on. When they do so, any restrictions or modifiers that apply to this model also apply to its passengers; for example, the passengers cannot shoot if this model has Fallen Back in the same turn, the passengers cannot shoot (except with Pistols) if this model is within 1" of an enemy unit, and so on.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport 10 N.R.F. INFANTRY models. Each MECH takes the space of three infantry models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING, TRANSPORT
Trench Line
Power 4, Points per model 10
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Trench Line 0" - - - 7 3 - - 4+

A Trench Line consists of 4 large trench sections and 4 small trench sections. It may also include one-murder weapon emplacement. All trench sections must be set up so that they are in end-to-end contact with at least one other trench sections while the murder weapon emplacement must be set up within 6” of another trench section. The murder weapon emplacement is equipped with a Gatling murder weapon and a heavy Gatling murder weapon.
Weapon Options: The murder weapon emplacement may replace its Gatling Murder weapon and heavy Gatling cannon with an Autocannon and a mortar.
Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• All units embarked on this model receive the benefit of cover.
• Open Topped: Models embarked on a Trench Line can attack in their Shooting phase. Measure the range and draw line of sight from any point on the model they are embarked on. When they do so, any restrictions or modifiers that apply to this model also apply to its passengers; for example, the passengers cannot shoot if this model has Fallen Back in the same turn, the passengers cannot shoot (except with Pistols) if this model is within 1" of an enemy unit, and so on.

Transport Capacity: This model can transport any and as many N.R.F. INFANTRY models that can fit inside it.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING, TRANSPORT

Field Medical Centre
Power 4, Points per model 100
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
FMC 0" - - - 8 8 - - 4+

This unit consists of one field medical centre.
Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• Fire Points: up to 6 models embarked on an FMC can attack in their Shooting phase. Measure the range and draw line of sight from a window on the model they are embarked on. When they do so, any restrictions or modifiers that apply to this model also apply to its passengers; for example, the passengers cannot shoot if this model has Fallen Back in the same turn, the passengers cannot shoot (except with Pistols) if this model is within 1" of an enemy unit, and so on.
• Medical Equipment: All units embarked on this model regain D3 lost wounds per turn.
Transport Capacity: This model can transport up to 10 N.R.F. INFANTRY models. MECHS take up the space of three infantry models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING, TRANSPORT
Engineers Workshop
Power 4, Points per model 100
Name M WS BS S T W A Ld Sv
Engineers Workshop 0" - - - 7 8 - - 4+

This unit consists of one .
Abilities:
• Immobile: This model cannot move for any reason, nor can it fight in the Fight phase. Enemy models automatically hit this model in the Fight phase – do not make hit rolls. However, this model can still shoot if there are enemy models within 1" of it, and friendly units can still target enemy units that are within 1" of this model.
• Engineering Equipment: All units embarked on this model regain D3 lost wounds per turn.
• Open Topped: Models embarked on a Deployable Watchtower can attack in their Shooting phase. Measure the range and draw line of sight from any point on the model they are embarked on. When they do so, any restrictions or modifiers that apply to this model also apply to its passengers; for example, the passengers cannot shoot if this model has Fallen Back in the same turn, the passengers cannot shoot (except with Pistols) if this model is within 1" of an enemy unit, and so on.

Transport Capacity: This model can transport up to 2 N.R.F. VEHICLE models. Heavy tanks take up the space of 2 vehicle models.
Faction Keywords: N.R.F.
Keywords: VEHICLE, BUILDING, TRANSPORT

Info on N.R.F. Vehicles
N.R.F. Land Vehicles

Bike: A light recon vehicle, akin to an Imperial Bike. Fast, quiet and manoeuvrable. Comes with two Battle Rifles that does as much damage as a One Bolter (Fluff wise). However, it is weak and vulnerable.
Heavy Tank: N.R.F. MBT, but functions more akin to a Mobile Artillery, can come equipped with a napalm cannon that has a unique special ability called "Scorched" which allows the Heavy Tank to shoot out a flaming sticky gel that ignores cover saves. Main disadvantage however is that like all N.R.F. vehicles, it is based on quality rather than quantity, thus has less number than most WH40K tanks and artillery.
Instigator: A N.R.F. light troop transport, armed with a Gatling murder weapon, has mostly similar stats of an Imperial Attack Bike, although the main difference is that the Instigator can transport a small number of models making it ideal for transporting characters and their honour guard.
APC: N.R.F. troop transport that is often nicknamed "The Anti-Nurgle Bus", can carry up to 15 models, faster than WH40K tank counterparts but is much weaker and its equipped with a Sanitizer Murder weapon dealing massive damage over a short time.
Scavenger Bike: A Scavenger made vehicle, it is primitive, crude, but incredibly effective, has mostly the same stats as a Bike but is faster, comes with two light improvised shotmurder weapons.
Goliath: After decades of research in secrecy, a group of scientists have developed a bipedal walker that, under the supervision and approval of Ben Pickens have become the N.R.F.’s key answer to the Rusted Nurgle Defensive walls that where thwarting the N.R.F.’s attacks. Named the Goliath due to their large size for a light walker, these machines are not to be underestimated as their duty as an anti-building has befallen countless Nurgle defensive structures that took it for granted. The Goliath is armed with a Light Cannon, which makes this one of the best anti-building unit in the N.R.F. as well as a Twin Hydra Rocket Pod for anti-infantry purposes. Additionally, the Goliath can be retrofitted with a Heavy Gatling Murder weapon and a Heavy Flamethrower. It is armed with powerful legs that enables the machine to stomp on enemy units; main downfalls include its relatively weak armour on the back, making it vulnerable to flanking.
N.R.F. Air Vehicles
Hornet: Main N.R.F. scout VTOL, weak and vulnerable but comes in obscene numbers and speed, as well as being able to be produced cheaply and quickly. Armed with a Twin Autocannon and a two shotmurder weapons for added anti-horde damage. If equipped with missile launchers they have decent at anti-armour capabilities.
Vendetta: N.R.F. anti-ground vehicle, armed with one Twin Autocannon, and two Missile Launchers. Slow, but dangerous to all ground vehicles, its Autocannon does obscene damage and almost never misses.
Marauder Transport: Heavy N.R.F. troop transport that can carry 20 models or a tank or artillery such as the Heavy Tank. Armed with 4 Twin Autocannons that does massive damage but is also very vulnerable to enemy aircraft.
Marauder Bomber: Heavy N.R.F. Bomber that can carry vast amounts of explosive ordnance as well as am small group of mechs hidden in the bomb bay for surprise attacks. Armed with 4 Twin Autocannons that does massive damage but is also very vulnerable to enemy aircraft.
N.R.F. Apocalypse Units
Armoured Trains: Armed with an enormous array of weaponry, once fired it can create explosions that would vaporize and raze entire fortresses, and in some cases could turn an entire Imperial Knight into molten slag. They are armed with entire anti-air batteries and dozens of light cannons. They boast a large complement of housing space large enough to fit a few tanks and over 30 troops for potential boarding. Additionally, they can destroy any infantry or light vehicles in their path by simply running right through them. They do however have some major disadvantages, such as that they must always stay on train tracks and if the locomotive containing the engine is destroyed then they will not be able to move.
N.R.F. Fortifications
Deployable Watchtower: One of the staple of any temporary fortification built by the N.R.F. is the deployable watchtower. It can be placed and carried by any marauder or APC and provides high ground for snipers and troops equipped with heavy weapons.
Earthshaker Emplacement: One of the most often-used artillery pieces the N.R.F. use is the Type-38 Earthshaker. The giant cannon fires powerful shells that are powerful and long-ranged enough for it to even be capable of acting as base to base defences. The Earthshaker is not only an artillery piece; it is also a fortification unto itself with multiple levels and cover for the troops stationed there. The Earthshaker is equipped with a vast magazine storage that gives it practically unlimited ammunition. The cost of this is that if the magazine is destroyed, the artillery will explode.
Temporary Strongpoint: The Temporary Strongpoint is built whenever the N.R.F. needs to quickly fortify an important area but does not have the time to erect more permanent fortifications or the need to stay in that area for a prolonged period. The Strongpoint consists of multiple Deployable Watchtowers, deployable cover, emplaced Autocannons and sometimes a landing pad.
N.R.F. Base: These permanent networks are built as a main military base to rally behind whenever the N.R.F. intends to permanently settle an area. They are stocked with enough supplies to withstand a long siege, are incredibly tough, can contain entire platoons, can be used as landing pads for ships and have powerful turrets to support its defenders. Enemies wishing to take this fortress will expect to have to invest considerable resources in its destruction and suffer heavy losses in the process.
Automated Turret: A more permanent fortification is the automated turret that comes in small, medium and large sizes. Each size is tougher and has more firepower than the last. It is also a modular piece of defence that can be outfitted against infantry, vehicle, and aircraft as needed.
Bunker: A bunker is any kind of small strong fortification the N.R.F. can build. These buildings can stop artillery bombardments, bombing runs and some can even withstand the power of a Nurgle nuke, if they are far away enough.

Info on N.R.F. Infantry
Light Infantry
Scavenger Band: The lowest of the low, these weak soldiers are used to gather supplies by the N.R.F. They are extremely proficient with machinery and service and modify most N.R.F. vehicles The Scavengers are usually armed with an Improvised Weapon in which (Fluff wise) it causes around the same damage as an Imperial Automurder weapon but have a melee profile and random stats. Can be upgraded with a Scavenger Shotmurder weapon which allows for better accuracy due to its shots spread and more power through rending. Also, can be equipped with an Improvised heavy weapon.
Marine Squad: A single Marine is a worthy adversary. Akin to an Eldar Guardian, but slower albeit stronger in Melee range. Can be armed with a variety of weapons such as AR-15’s, Shotmurder weapons and flamethrowers.
Heavy Infantry
Ajax Squad: These heavily armoured walking behemoths are the N.R.F. answers to a Space marine Terminator and Eldar Wraith-Guard. Standing at 7 feet tall and weighing 1 ton, they easily dwarf any enemy short of a vehicle. Agile for their size, armed and with a Gatling Cannon which is a heavily modified Gatling Murder weapon.
Heavy Weapons Team: These two-man teams wield a tripod mounted heavy weapon. The powerful nature of such weapons makes a Heavy Weapons Team a formidable opponent.
Missile Support Squad: A few lucky Grenadiers get to be trained as Missile Support Squad, with every Grenadier carrying a heavy weapon of some sort.
Specialized Infantry
Spectre Team: A group of highly trained "Special Operation" Marines and Grenadiers. Used for missions that is highly dangerous and risky, these elites use a small range of N.R.F. Weaponry to execute their job in the most efficient way possible. .
Tracer Squad: Specialized group of Grenadiers that is equipped with a Jetpack, enabling to cross distances quickly and have the ground pound ability; armed with a SMR and could be swapped with a grenade launcher.
Unity Guard: Although these soldiers lack armour making them very vulnerable, they are equipped with heavily specialized enforcer shotmurder weapons, which makes their attacks close ranged, but their attacks are devastating.
Pulse Mech Squad: Soldiers new to mech warfare will normally be in a pulse mech squad. These squads are somewhat between Tracer mechs and Ajax mechs. Armed with EMP pistols, these squads act as training grounds for soldiers with little experience in mechs, before choosing to enter a Tracer or Ajax exo-mech squad.
HQ Infantry
Champions: Only the very few Scavengers are given the honour to uphold the title as Champions. Although still regarded as the lowest position in the N.R.F. Politics, these Champions are often needed to help and inspire other Scavengers on the Battlefield. Lacking the firepower and health to be in the front lines, these support units are instead used by the N.R.F. as Scouts.
Lieutenants: These low-ranking Captains, use their inspiring aspect at the frontlines. These soldiers carry one of the banners of freedom. Only the best soldiers can carry one of these banners.
Commanders: One of the Highest Ranks Soldiers, these Elite of the Elite of the Elites hold high position in the N.R.F. Politics, and when the need for battle is called onto them, they will respond without hesitation.
Honour Guards: Comes in both Spectre and Pulse Mech forms, these elite of the elites are the protectors of the Commanders, and they are the gateway and barrier between a lowly Scavenger to the highest Commander. Showing skill that very few can match, these elites are known to handle entire hordes of Nurgle. Glowing with intelligence, strength, skill, cunningness and tactical brilliance, they are a force to be reckon with.

Some Backstory

For more than four years, the N.R.F. has endured amongst the wasteland. They are a mere remnant, with a few thousand soldiers scattered across the Sydney area. Still, unlike most humans, the N.R.F. have not only survived the apocalypse, but adapted and learned to be able to combat the Nurgle empire. They are highly nomadic and constantly on the move to evade larger Nurgle forces and destroy the smaller ones. Although their remaining land-bases are used for political and industrial purposes, the reality is that the highly mobile Astra of the N.R.F. makes them extremely difficult to intercept. It is of this reason that N.R.F. territories are constantly in flux. Thus, although the N.R.F. protect vast majority of land, their physical territories are spread thinly.
At the time of Nurgles Ascension, the N.R.F. had tens of thousands of soldiers but near all fell before the might of the Nurgle legions. Only the destruction of the Nurgle nuke, by Ben Pickens, Ben Mitchell and a handpicked team of pulse-mech veterans, prevented the extinction of the N.R.F. To this day, the N.R.F. fears to openly challenge the Nurgle and have fortified each of their bases with a formidable defensive network. The N.R.F. is 'closed.'
The N.R.F. exhibits a fatalistic outlook. Having long believed that Nurgle destroyed the way to a bright human future, they are merely waiting for the final battle which will see them, or the Nurgle destroyed. Nurgle Forces devoured the last known N.R.F. bases outside of the Sydney region and the Nurgle forces crawl unflinchingly towards Astra and Sydney.
There will be no hesitation. There will be no surrender. There will be only death.
N.R.F. Bases and Colonies
Only a few N.R.F. bases remain. The Nurgles Ascension saw them reduced to three bases, each of which believed itself the last survivor, saved only by the destruction of the Nurgle nuke. After this conflict, B.R.F elements regathered and reconquered two hundred suburbs. During this time, the Commanders of the N.R.F. swore a deal with the mayor of Sydney that they would go to war with the Nurgle, if Sydney provided them with recruits and supplies.
Astra: The most well-known N.R.F. base, it is armed with thrusters that enable it to fly. It totally isn’t a rip off of the Marvel Helicarrier. Astra is one of the most heavily defended bases in the N.R.F. as it carries the majority of the N.R.F.s troops.
Sydney: Though not a N.R.F. base, Sydney is defended by an entire division of N.R.F. unity guard who man the large dome/wall that defends Sydney from Nurgle attacks. Sydney is also the only place that has a refuelling tower tall enough to refuel Astra.
Macquarie Park: Macquarie Park is now a dry and arid wasteland. It fell to Nurgle forces during Nurgles ascension. The N.R.F. regained it during the 2030, only to lose it again to the Nurgle. Presently, it hosts a N.R.F. recruitment and training centre along with laboratories and factories. It also has two train stations, which are important to the N.R.F. for transporting supplies and soldiers.
[[Category:Roleplaying]]

Atlantian Spears

2026-05-12T05:35:59Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010233 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

== '''Atlantian Spears''' ==

A Blood Angel's successor that looks down upon their bloody bros who fall to their gene-flaws. If their name didn't give it away they're an Atlantis-themed spehss mehreen chapter, reflected in their heraldry and naming devices. They're pretty minor, showing up only in the Blood Angel's Codex supplement, the Octarius War books, and White Dwarf editions. They look pretty cool, though.

Also notable from not answering Dante's call to fight in the [[Devastation of Baal]], arguing instead that the situation on their own backwater was bad enough already.

[[File:Atlantian Spears Primaris.webp|frameless|left|BY MY GOLDEN TRIDENT]]
[[Category:Space Marine Chapters]]

Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)

2026-05-12T05:35:51Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010234 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{Story}}
{{promotions}}

Yet again, [[user: Someone else.|Someone else.]] produces far too much [[Warhammer High]] fluff. This time, the story concerns the aforementioned titular road trip from the end of Bleeding Out.

===== Chapters =====
* Part 1: [[Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part One]]
* Part 2: [[Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Two]]
* Part 3: [[Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Three]]
* Part 4: [[Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Four]]
* Part 5: [[Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Five]]

[[File:ROAD_TRIP.png|thumb|300px|left|Enjoy your reading.]]

[[Category:Warhammer High]]

Stand Still Stay Silent: The RPG

2026-05-12T05:35:41Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010235 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

Before reading anything on this page, check out [http://www.sssscomic.com/ the comic itself]. Don't gotta read it right now, just have it in a separate tab. Good? Alright!

''Stand Still Stay Silent RPG'' is a setting primarily inspired by the Webcomic of the same name. 90 years have passed since the mysterious 'rash virus' wiped out nearly all of humanity, leaving hideous beasts, trolls, and giants to wander the earth. Despite this grim reality the game does not focus on basic survival or scrounging. Humanity is not only surviving, it is thriving in the niches it can. International trade has sprouted up again, with people being able to freely travel the world in search of work and exchange of ideals. The aim of the game is on adventure, with a light or even comedic tone contrasted with moments of tense action and thrilling horror. The Silent World is ripe for plundering, but its numerous bounty is contrasted by the infinite possibilities for danger.

'''The current progress of the project:''' All but dead.

New project started under the name "[[Vikingr]]"

= Rules Draft =
This is called a draft because everything in this entire section is subject to change. This is a an outline to work with, a skeleton to build around.

== Attributes ==
=== Physical Attributes ===

'''Bulk'''
----
The raw power of the human body, your ability to suffer pain, and the amount of strain you can place on your muscles. It represents strength, vitality, and endurance.

'''Integrity'''
----
Represents a characters resistance to disease, infection, injury, starvation, and blood loss. This also represents the amount of abuse you can take, both lethal and stress related. You keep track of two separate kinds of damage, and if either goes over your threshold, that is bad news. Stress(Physical stress) damage goes over Threshold it will cause someone to became battered, which lowers all their stats and doubles the amount of time to complete tasks. Lethal damage extending over Threshold leads to immediate black out. If either type of damage doubles the amount you have in your Threshold, your character dies.

'''Adroitness'''
----
How fast you can move, how flexible you are, and how quickly you can think on your feet. Adroitness represents a persons agility and dexterity.

=== Mental Attributes ===

'''Knowledge'''
----
The ability to learn and retain information. The essential statistic for keeping retention of information. High knowledge means both extremely great long term and short term memory.

'''Savvy'''
----
How well you understand other humans, how well you can use that to lever your own position over people. Savvy does not translate into good looks. People who are just naturally sociable will be Savvy as well as people who know how to manipulate others.

'''Experience'''
----
A person's aptitude for making good decisions off the cuff, and being able to learn from past mistakes. A person with high experience is wise and thoughtful.

'''Will'''
----
The amount of psychological trauma someone can endure. Works like Threshold, except there is only one type of damage, Tragedy. Tragedy damage comes about from living through horror or personal loss. If Tragedy equals Will, it causes the person to develop a Quirk(To be discussed later). If Tragedy doubles Will, this person is no longer able to be part of the game. The player will decide what ultimately happens to the person, if they choose to retire for good or simply end life itself.

== Age Groups ==
Here are the age groups and how they function:

'''Youths'''(16-23), small penalty to mental, big boost to physical.
-----
'''Adults'''(24-39) No penalty to physical, small boost to mental.
-----
'''Middle Aged'''(40-60) Small penalty to physical, big boost to mental.
-----
'''Elderly'''(61-70) Massive penalty to physical, massive boost to mental.

== Skills ==
http://paste2.org/8dAG3anN

= The Setting =
The Nordic peoples have united under the Nordic Council which allows close cooperation and trade to circulate among the many settlements. The capital of this new world is Reykjavik, in the most populous country of Iceland.

== Finland ==
No where else is the Silent World more prevalent as a danger than in Suomi(Finland). Along the shores of the many waterways and lakes of this mystical land lie hundreds of tiny settlements. Some contain only a few families, others hundreds of Finns. The largest of these settlements and capital is the military base on the island of Keuruu.

== Norway ==
The proud, friendly, and blessed Norwegians live in a desolate land of mountains and wilderness.

Norway was able to escape the ravages as the Illness from a great series of rainstorms in the Aurlandfjord, protecting Aurland for a time. The rains passed, winter came, but the Norwegians did not stay idle. Preparations were made to defend from what radio broadcasts named 'Monsters'. Years have passed since then, with the Norwegians aggressively expanding up along their depopulated coast to secure resources and food. Food is rare in Norway, which is what brought the first diplomats to Iceland. The agreement which has stood for decades between the two peoples is still practiced today, an equal exchange of supplies to allow both societies to live in harmony and luxury.

Each Summer more Creatures journey up the coastline in search of food. The Norwegian military is comprised of Volunteer Servicemen(normally called just Volunteers) which are led by a Veteran appointed to a unit by a presiding Officer. Officers are men who have served for ten years, elected to the status by a council of their peers. A unit is made up of anywhere from five to fifteen men, having an assortment of Cleansers, Hunters, and Mages. These units fight on both land and sea against the Creatures.

The Norwegian military do not take their role lightly. Every man in service knows that if they let up for even a moment, their entire country could be lost. Aurland is made up of the three towns of Flåm, Aurlandsfjorden, and Aurlandsvangen. If an outbreak were to occur in any of these towns, it would mean more than eighty percent of the Norwegian population would be lost. Aurland is also in the southernmost part of current Norway, meaning it is the most in danger when Creatures come over the mountains or sneak into the fjords from the coast.

== Sweden ==
The Swedes lack belief in the gods, yet they have had some success in cleansing the silent world with fire and determination.

== Iceland ==
Iceland was one of the first countries to close down its borders after the Rash, and so they have thrived.

== Denmark ==
A faithless folk that tried to wage war against the creatures born from the Rash. Their warmachines litter the ruins of their lost cities. The island of Bornholm has so far survived, and the Danes have established a base on the old Öresund Bridge.

== The Gods ==
Norse (relative order of importance):
* Odin - All-father, god of wisdom, magic, and victory
Odin is the the son of the two ''jætter'' Bestla and Borr and the brother of Vile and Ve. He is hailed as the king of all gods and the father of creation. His domains include seidr, rune magic, wisdom, war, royalty and the art of the skalds. In cooperation with his brothers, he killed the first ''jætte'', Ymer, and created the world from his corpse. Odin also created Man from a treetrunk as part of a competition with Vile and Ve. Before Odin became all-knowing, he sacrificed an eye and hung from the World Tree Yggdrasil for nine days with a spear-wound in his guts. He had then earned the right to drink from Mimirs Well and became keeper of all wisdom in the world. Each day his ravens Hugin and Munin travel the world, and each night they return to tell him what they have seen. Each night, his wolves Gere and Freke travel the world and each day they return to tell him what they have seen. From his tower Lidskjalv, Odin can see anywhere in the world, and he is the owner of the eight-legged horse Sleipner, the Dwarven spear Gungnir and the Dwarven arm-ring Draupnir.
Odin is the husband of Frigg, though Thor is the child of him and Jord. Odins children include Balder, Höder, Hermod, Skjold, Vale and Vidar.
* Freyja - Fertility goddess, goddess of defending the hearth and home. (Civilization)
Freya arrived to Asgard with her brother Frey and her father Njord as a part of the peace treaty between Asgard and Vanaheim. She brought the magical arts of Seidr from the Vanir to the Asir and taught Odin how to perform the rituals. She is a goddess of love, of fertility, of magic, of the female gender and of war. Her aspect of war revolves around protecting the homestead. Her husband is Od, a figure which is rumored to actually be Odin in disguise.
* Freyr - Fertility god, god of planting and prosperity. (Civilization)
Freyr came to Asgard with Freya and Njord and is a Vanir god of fertility, harvest and agriculture. He is the owner of the Dwarven ship Skidbladner, which can sail on land and be folded into a piece of cloth and the hog Gyldenbørste, which can run in the air and on land faster than any horse. He was an extremely important god to the farmers of old, and he was the one you would sacrifice to if you wanted your crop to grow strong.
* Ullr - God of hunting, winter, and games. (Survival)
Not much is known about the archer god Ullr, for he is an extremely old deity, his followers tracing back to before the Iron Age. He is hailed as inventor of the sled, and may have married the jætte Skadi after she left her husband Njord. He is the first son of Sif and the stepson of Thor, seen as both Asir and Vanir according to who you ask. He is sometimes known as the Lord of Winter, and is revered by hunters and survivalists.
* Mímir/Kvasir/Vör - God/dess of Wisdom. (Science)
* Baldr - God of rebirth, beauty, innocence, and peace. (Civilization)
Baldr is known as the most beautiful of all the Asir. He is the favorite son of Odin and Frigg, and his death plays a large role in the prophecy of Ragnarok, where he is killed by a mistletoe arrow by his brother, Høder. He is not only a lantern of beauty, but also of kindness and fairness, and is universally loved by the gods of Asgard, except for the jealous Loki. He is largely a passive god, and not much reverance is paid to him by believers.
* Thor - God of thunder (fire) and battle. (Cleansers)
Thor is the second-most powerful of the male Asir, second only to Odin. He is a warrior-god of strength and raw power, and his job in Asgard as well as Midgard is protecting them from all evil, including the jætter from Udgard, frost giants from Niflheim, fire giants from Muspelheim and other ancient monsters, like the Jormungand and Fenris. Thor wields the mighty dwarven hammer Mjolnir and a pair of iron gloves by the name of Larngreiper that granted him supernatural strength. Thors name was very rarely used in the context of war, and as a warrior-god his domain was single combat rather than the strategy and discipline needed for warfare. He is the son of Odin and Fjörgunn, which might mean that he was pulled directly from the Earth by his father.
* Frigg - Goddess of marriage, motherhood, foresight, and iron. (Civilization)
Frigg is the most powerful of the female Asir, the wife of Odin and the queen of Asgard. Her knowledge of the future is at least as great as that of her husband, but in contrast to him she never tells of what she knows. She is the daughter of Fjörgunn and is often described as the mother of all things.
* Vidarr - God of forests, silence, and revenge. (Cleansers, survival)
Not much is known about Vidarr the Silent, for he keeps to himself in his house in the forest and spends all of his time training for Ragnarok. He is almost as strong as his brother Thor, and he carries a boot which is sewn from all of the leather scraps shoemakers throw away. According to the prophecy of Ragnarok, he is to break the jaw of Fenris with his foot and kill it with a blow from his sword.
* Tyr - God of the sky, discipline, honor and warfare. (Cleansers)
Tyr the One-Armed is an honorable god known for his wisdom in warfare and his bravery. He is the son of the Jætte Hymir, but is fully accepted as a god of Asgard. His right hand was bitten of by the wolf Fenris as the Asir bound it with the magical chain Gleipner.
* Dagr - God of daytime. (Cleansers, civilization)
* Njörðr - God of the sailors, wealth, wind, and fishermen. (Cleansers, survival, civilization)
Njord was brought to Asgard as a part of the peace treaty between the Asir and the Vanir. He is the father of Frey and Freya and the husband of Skadi. Sailors would sacrifice to him for the promise of safe fare, and fishermen for the promise of a bountiful catch.
* Sif - Goddess of harvest. (Civilization)
Sif is a Vanir brought to Asgard as part of the peace treaty between the two. She is the wife of Thor and is said to have the most beautiful hair in all of Asgard. As most of the other Vanir, she is tied to fertility, harvest and agriculture.

Finn (no order):
* Perkele - god of thunder and the sky
Called Ukko or Äijä or Äijö because his true name is an invocation of the highest order. He is the god of the sky, weather, good harvests, and thunder. He is the wielder of ''Ukonvasara'', a hammer he uses to hurl thunderbolts at his enemies. It is possible he is also Thor wearing another guise. Ukonkivi in Lake Inari in the Lapland is sacred to Ukko, a place of power.
* Tapio - god of the forest
Tapio is the husband of Mielikki, the father of Annikki, Tellervo, Nyyrikki, and Tuulikki. He has a beard of lichen and eyebrows of moss and is the guardian of the forest.
* Mielikki - goddess of the forest
Wife to Tapio, Mielikki is a goddess of the forest's bounty, small game, nuts, and berries. She is also a skillful healer and lends her herbal expertise to humans who ask her.
* Nyyrikki - god of hunting
* Tuulikki - goddess of animals
* Vellamo - goddess of the sea, lakes, storms
Wife of Ahti, Vellamo has insured the safe passage of Finns traveling the inner waterways. Perhaps also Vedenemo.
* Väinämöinen - god of chants, songs, music, and lore
Son of Kave, brother to Ilmarinen, Väinämöinen is the divine bard, the teller of tales and the reciter of the poems. He is the hero of the Finnish national epic, the ''Kalevala''. His voice is said to possess a magic of its own. He is the patron of those who adventure in the service of the Finnish people.
* Tursas - god of war
Tursas is the Finnish god of war, the one who lives on the brink, revered and feared, for he also brings havoc to ill-prepared sailors. He may also be the great sea monster Iku-Turso or possibly Tyr.
* Kuu - moon goddess
* Kave - god of time
Kave keeps count and sets cadence that the other gods may go about their tasks in an orderly manner. He is the elder god, once ruler of the sky. Father to Väinämöinen. Perhaps also Raako.
* Ahti - sort of a sea god, more of a fisherman's god
* Ilmarinen - god of crafts, the great smith
The Eternal Hammerer and forger of the sky's vault. Väinämöinen sends Ilmarinen to Louhi in Pohjola to craft the ''Sampo'' in exchange for Louhi's daughter's hand in marriage. When Ilmarinen finishes the ''Sampo'' Louhi's daughter refuses to leave her native land and Ilmarinen must return home alone. Ilmarinen has several other misadventures in love and may be a very romantic god incapable of expressing himself except through his forge work.
* Äkräs - god of fertility and plants
Has a particular fondness for turnips, beans, peas, cabbage, flax, and hemp. All staples of survival in Finland.
* Pekko - god of beer and crops
* Sampsa Pellervoinen - harvest god
* Tuoni - death itself
* Loviatar - Tuoni's daughter, pestilence
* Vammatar - Tuoni's daughter, pain and misfortune
* Kipu-Tyttö - Tuoni's daughter
* Kivutar - Tuoni's daughter

Not necessarily gods:
* Antero Vipunen - giant with secret knowledge of magic
* Otso - the great bear spirit
* Saunatonttu - the avatar of saunas
* Näkki - spirit of bridges and wells
Spiteful and cruel, he will pull children into the depths if they tempt him by staring into the reflective surface of the water and touching it.
* Surma - a large dog-like beast who guards the gates of Tuonela (the underworld), may be Fenrir
* Ajatar - the evil that lurks in forests
* Akka - sort of Ukko's opposite, maybe his wife?
* Louhi - hostess of the underworld (possibly Loviatar)

== The Creatures ==
The Illness and the Dangers of the Silent World,
By Skald Jorgen Jóhannesson.

We people blessed to have survived in this world by the Gods' mercy still face countless challenges from the Creatures which plague civilization's borders. We people born of Iceland are truly the most gifted of all mankind to never live in fear of their invasion. The Creatures of the Silent World come in many shapes and forms, yet they still can be easily identified and organized into three categories.

'''The ''Beasts'''''
----
Easily the most prevalent of the Creatures, the Beasts are the mutated mammals which have succumbed to the Illness. Possessing only a primal lust for blood and feast, they congregate in many hives and nests only venturing out to feed. Beasts can be solitary hunters or great throngs of similar Creatures. The Beasts maintain their former shape the most out of any other type of Creature.

Quite easy to dispatch by even conventional means as the uniform shape means only one brain and heart - though this is not always the case -, but Beasts are feared for being carriers of the Illness. A suitable amount of Beasts can dispatch border guards before the nearest settlement can be notified, leading to them reaching the settlement and contaminating those not immune. This in almost all recorded cases leads to the destruction of the settlement.

'''The ''Trolls'''''
----
Humans which have befallen a fate worse than death. It is theorized by many Skalds that these are people who insulted the Gods by worshiping only one god, but no proof to this has been presented thus far. Trolls are the opposite of Beasts in several ways, as no two trolls look alike. During the Summer, trolls who happen to meet each other mingle and mix. Combining limbs and organs to create a new, more durable and deadly Creature. These transformation mostly takes place during the late months of Summer however, and can last the entirety of Winter.

What makes Trolls truly dangerous is their intelligence. They understand us, and mimic us. It has been shown that Trolls call for help to pull inexperienced Scouts to suffer a horrible fate. Since Humans are all that Trolls are made up of, those without immunity should be warned. If you are taken, you will be integrated into the Troll itself, as many studies from Norway have shown.

Because of the excess of vital organs, bullets seem to have no effect as the Troll can suffer immense amounts of physical damage before succumbing to death. This is why Trolls should be treated with the utmost caution, and never doubted for a moment. They rely on out thinking and overpowering people to kill, or worse, integrate them. A Troll's patterns of behavior can be studied, and traps can be laid. Trolls have regular patterns where people can anticipate their next move, which the Norwegians have excelled at learning. A Troll which breaks normal patterns is in a desperate need of sustenance, or new parts to acquire. These are extremely dangerous, as they have both intelligence and unpredictability.

'''The ''Giants'''''
----
In the rare cases found of Trolls, they appear to be the combination of Beasts and Trolls. Whole packs of Beasts and several Troll bodies can be incorporated into a Giant. These have been documented during the Danes attempt to retake their mainland. There is no documentation of any such Creatures being exterminated. If you encounter a Giant, do not run or scream for help. Stand still, and stay silent. It might go away.

== Magic ==
The Reawakened Magic of the Norse

After the rash illness destroyed the structure of civilisation, the remaining Norse population found themselves alone in a world that was constantly trying to kill them. But as time went by and they survived the continuous onslaught of the Creatures, an idea was hatched in the minds of the Nordic people: Our gods are still here, and they're protecting us.

Slowly, the ancient Norse mythologies were rediscovered, and both the Finnish and the Scandinavian pantheon were worshipped for ensuring the survival of their chosen people. Traditions that were long forgotten were awakened and practiced as a part of daily life, some mundane while others were wondrous. The long-buried practice of magic was given back to the Nordic people.
Today, 90 years after the disaster, magic is practiced in almost all corners of the North.

In Iceland, the ways of Seidr and Galdrastafur are practiced, while in Finland, the nature spirits of old have given the people the power over nature itself, the ways of Runo.

=== Icelandic Magic ===
Icelandic mages are all trained at the the Academy of Seiður in Reykjavik. Because of their long-standing alliance, Norwegians can also train at the academy. If you are educated there, your profession is Mage, and you are proficient in both Seidr and Galdrastafur. These Mages' powers are drawn from the Norse gods Odin and Freya, both gods of war, of knowledge and of love. The magic of the Icelandic Mages is mainly used for protective spells, charms and most importantly receiving prophetic visions and supernatural foresight. What follows is a description of the two schools of magic used by the Icelanders.

Seidr

Seidr or Seiður is the ancient ritualistic magic of the Vanir. According to mythos, the Vanir Freya brought it to Asgard from her homelands of Vanaheim when her, her brother Frey and their father Nord were given to the Asir as part of a peace treaty between the two divine nations. Odin the Alfather convinced Freya to teach him the ways of Seidr, even though the magic was traditionally reserved for women. Later, Loke the Trickster spied on Freya as she conducted her rituals and learned some of it as well.

In ancient times, Seidr was mainly practiced by the wise women of Norse tribes. Some men learned it, but they were seen as androgynous and stripped of their manhood for indulging in the practice.

In modern times most Icelandic Mages are female, though men are fully permitted to be educated at the Academy in Reykjavik.
The practices of Seidr is based on the belief that through a trance, a person can will her soul to leave her body and perform different tasks, like making livestock sick or scaring away evil spirits.It once consisted of many different rituals, but today it has been largely stripped down to the most important ability of its practitioners: The prophetic visions received through dreams. Experienced Mages are able to go into a trance to search for knowledge of the future. They are also granted a supernatural foresight which allows them to know when danger is ahead and the like.

Galdrastafur

The runic magic of the Icelanders is the result of an assimiliation between the Icelandic art of Galdrastafur (or spellstaves) and the traditional rune-magic used by the Norse and the gods alike. A magical rune is created when an object is inscribed with a prayer, asking the gods for a favor. For example, a Mage could inscribe a Galdr (or spell) into the hilt of a weapon, asking Odin to let it always strike true.

Traditionally, runes were used by the ancient Norse for all sorts of prayers, and by the gods for invoking magical effects.
A ship would be inscribed with a rune asking Nord to grant it safe fare; a shield would be inscribed with a rune asking Tyr or Odin to never let it break beneath the weight of enemies; and a field would have an inscribed pole standing in it, asking Frey to never let the crops whither.
Any student of the Academy in Reykjavik is able to inscribe a certain number of Galdrastafur.
The strength of the rune depends on the skill of the Mage, and whether it is inscribed in wood, stone or just drawn with chalk.

''Strike True''

This rune is usually carved in the hilt of a weapon or inscribed in the shell casing of a bullet. It is a prayer to Odin asking for your weapon to always strike its target in his name.

''Resist''

A prayer to Thor asking for his strength in keeping an object undamaged. It can be inscribed in anything from a shield to body armor, from a knot to an engine. Some mages are known to have inscribed the rune in their own bodies, though the effects of this are untested.

''Quicken''

A very old rune, usually inscribed in the soles of a courier or scouts' shoes to make him even lighter on his feet. It is a prayer to Loki, asking for his aid in escaping your enemy.

''Hide/Ward''

Another prayer to Loki, this rune is carved in a stave and placed in the laces of a boot to reduce the chance of discovery when hiding. Otherwise, it can be carved in trees surrounding a campsite and help keep it from being discovered by malicious spirits.

== Plot Hooks and Random Encounters ==

>An old man with a horse pulling a gutted car or truck converted into a wagon, following the old roads and looking for civilization to trade with. It's a mystery how he's survived as his only defense is a homemade rifle that looks like it would fall apart if it bumped anything. He doesn't speak your language and only points or tries to trade goods.

>A scouting team well beyond their range. They've lost some members and want to pressgang your group, at gunpoint if need be, into assisting them in taking down a particularly nasty troll. They won't say what they're doing this far out.

>The remains of a viking funeral, washed up on the shore. Some of his gear survived the fire...

>a weak radio signal begging for help in a nearby old world town. It's actually a clever troll.

>A pack of cats just hanging out in the woods. They will lead you to a safe place if you feed them and watch over you while you sleep. They will be gone in the morning.

>The ruined remains of some kind of military base that isn't on your map. It looks like whoever occupied it was making an attempt at harnessing or taming the creatures for unknown purposes. From the spent bullet casings and burn marks everywhere, it looks like it all went wrong. The bullet casings may even be relatively recent.

>A small village in the middle of nowhere who's residents believe themselves to be the only survivors and ruled by a tyrant/cult leader like individual. Your arrival and tales of civilization upsets everything and all hell breaks loose. If something isn't done, the village will collapse and be destroyed and "reclaimed" within a week.

>A non-hostile troll that just watches from a distance and follows you for unknown reasons.

>An elaborate cold war era VIP bunker. It's full of pre-silence treasure and horrors alike.

>Cat Scratch Fever - Scouts have reported seeing what look like cats mutated by the illness in the woods at night. Are these rumors true, or is a scout's imagination playing tricks on him?

>Skalding Hot News - A Danish skald publishes what he claims to be a pre-Silence history book, but many of his colleagues cast doubts on the veracity of the document.

>You Sank My Battleship - A troll-infested battleship is discovered floating in the middle of the ocean. Some say that it should be destroyed, but others believe that if the trolls are exterminated, the ship can be cleansed and used once more.

>Clash of the Titans - Norwegian scouting parties, tracking the paths of two wandering giants, realize that at their current headings, the two giants will cross paths. If the giants meet and fuse together, they will pose a massive threat to settlements all along the coast.

>Ahab and his catch - A crazed old man is looking for a crew to take down a sea monster which he swears has people still alive in it.

>Grandma's delivery - A woman in a red hood approaches you and asks you to deliver some cookies to her ol' grandma in the woods. apparently the old woman built herself a minor fort in her younger days.

>Sweet dreams (cont on gandma's delivery) - The old woman offers you to stay for "fika"(snacks, basically), putting out the cookies and some tea. You wake up in an unknown cave, whispers coming from the dark, stripped of all but a torch and your underwear.

>Last light (cont on sweet dreams) - Your torch is running out and the cave just keeps going. The sounds in the dark gets closer with it. At least you found your gear.
Get out.

>Extraction duty - You're going into the city with a group of scouts for this mission. A division of cleansers went down towards northern Stockholm to start pre-work on the planned cleansing in the area, but we've lost all contact.
[[Category:Roleplaying]]
[[Category:Homebrew]]

CATastrophe Character Creation

2026-05-12T05:34:42Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010236 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

See: [[Setting:CATastrophe/MAID Conversion Character Creation]]. Creation rules for other modules, such as the FATE Core conversion, have yet to be finalized.

CATastrophe game mechanics

2026-05-12T05:34:28Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010237 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

See: [[Setting:CATastrophe/MAID Conversion game mechanics]]. Other conversions, such as the FATE module, are still under construction.

High Elves (Warhammer Fantasy)

2026-05-12T05:34:18Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010238 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

[[File:HighElfMono.png|thumb|right|400px|Long hair? Excellent posture? Sharpe jaw line? A burning aura of self importance? Yep, that's a High Elf.]]
{{Topquote|Learning and innovation go hand in hand. The arrogance of success is to think that what you did yesterday will be sufficient for tomorrow.|William Pollard}}
{{Topquote|Have you heard of the High Elves?|The Eldar Scrolls IV: Oblivion}}
Like every fantasy setting out there, Warhammer Fantasy could not be without its faction of arrogant, snobbish "high" elves who are only "high" on their own egos. However, taking a page out of Tolkien's book, these elves are dying, surrounded on all sides by enemies and their greatest foe may just be each other.

And if that doesn't tell you how fucked the High Elves are in this setting, then you will see all the proof you need below.
==A brief overview==
In [[Warhammer Fantasy Battle]], the High Elves are the original [[Elf|elves]] and live on their Atlantis doughnut [[Ulthuan]] where they sang, built statues and temples, grew their hair, throw softcore orgies and rode monsters into the sunset and out of the sunrise again, all the things one would do in a perfect paradise made just for them.

[[FAIL|Then it all went to shit]].

The causes of this are threefold: Because the [[Old Ones]] didn't clean up after themselves, or lost a war against Chaos, or it's all according to plan, or whatever. [[Chaos]] flooded out like a pierced beer can into the world and were going to destroy it without a problem. The first Phoenix King, Aenarion, got his shit together and closed the gate thereby saving the world. Then a bunch of shit happened. Eventually his son Malekith got butthurt over not being picked the next king over some guy named Bel Shanaar and started the [[Dark Elves (Warhammer Fantasy)|Dark Elves]]. Because the Dark Elves are the Sith of Warhammer they pushed really far into Ulthuan, but then Caledor the first came and Cosgrove'd Malekith back to the northern reaches of the New World. (Which means Canadians are Cenobites.)

Caledor the second pissed off the Dwarfs, doing his bit to ensure that they didn't go too long without being bullied, but then he got himself killed and left his fancy [[Hats|hat]] behind, which is just bad play. Then Malekith came back and fucked shit up good so the High Elves elected Caradryel who realized that keeping colonies and making war on Dwarfs when you're about to be wiped out is stupid and ordered all non-Dark Elves to come home and defend the motherland, but the colonists who discovered pot and treefucking had better ideas and retreated into the woods, becoming Wood Elves. (Which means the Swiss are Ithorians.)

The High Elves as we know them today are a dying race where every citizen is a soldier because there's so few left they can't support a standing army. (Although they still have high enough birth rate to make up for losses, because GW says [[Derp|there are always as many or as few elves as the plot for the book in question demands]]. So apparent consistency can suck it.) They're still the strongest force in the world, and if they get wiped out then the kinda dark and sorta grim Warhammer Fantasy becomes [[Grimdark|grimdarkness]] of Warhammer 40k. So yeah, they're kind of important if you aren't playing Daemons or Warriors of Chaos (or Beastmen goddammit!).

Of course, most High Elves are [[That guy|douchebags]] and most of the rest of the world are too, so everyone always has a reason to fight each other.

== New army book ==
8th edition High Elf book is out, and the summary is that while some notoriously overpowered things (Teclis, Book of Hoeth) were nerfed, they weren't nerfed into the ground. Better yet, with the light and medium cavalry being core again and the points and powers adjusted, the only thing that's still (relatively) useless is Shadow Warriors (although even they can be made viable at times) and possibly Eltharion. Matt Ward wrote the new book, but has unexpectedly not had the fluff raped or had characters made rapists. Females were even (re)added, the Everqueen and her servants!
Overall, we got off very well and are possibly a bit stronger than before. But what did you expect from the only Fantasy army with Marines?

== In Age of Sigmar ==
Unfortunately, the High Elves (or Aelves, but not even Age of Sigmar players call them that) were arguably the faction with the most damage done to them in the transition between the two systems, being split up into five subfactions (Eldritch Council, Swifthawk Agents, Lion Rangers, Order Draconis, Phoenix Temple) for no particular reason. So far, none of these subfactions have been reconsolidated back into one faction, expanded into their own distinct model range, or even given faction rules in the General's Handbook.

UPDATE: New battletome announced! They’re being souped in with all the other order factions GW likes to forget exist ([[The_Empire_(Warhammer_Fantasy)|Empire]], dwarfs, other elves) but better than nothing.

UPDATE 2: Oh no. Massive squat of order models just happened, and as of the time this is being written, high elves have 4 units left, and they're all "Last Chance to Buy". The High Elves are going the way of [[Bretonnia]] and [[Tomb Kings|Nehekhara]].

UPDATE 3: The above is still basically true, but they're not entirely gone, we still have the Phoenix Guard, Flamespyre/Frostheart Phoenix kit, and the Shadow Warriors (I'd guess the Shadow Warriors are gonna be added to Shadowblades or something since they're the only Swifthawk Agents left? Idk). Anyway, according to the Cities of Sigmar preview from Gen Con, all the Last Chance to Buy units will be made into a Warhammer Legends PDF like the Dark Elves got a while ago, which means warscrolls for the whole faction from Fantasy, but unfortunately no Matched Play points.

UPDATE 4: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=977qaeqBTzw they're coming back, and they're pointier then ever]

UPDATE 5: The official new name for the High Elves in AOS are the [[Lumineth Realm-Lords]], created in Hysh by the big man Teclis after screwing up with the Deepkin. Which is not to say this draft was a slam-dunk. In fact, pride and jealousy lead to a civil war that ended up letting chaos into Hysh. These days, they take a dim view of emotion. Never touch the stuff, instead using realmstone to bottle up their inner darkness. The Lumineth are a forward thinking-civilisation, so of course their long term strategy is "bottle it up and hope for the best".

==[[Warhammer: The Old World]]==

A blog post released in the final week of 2020 detailed the map of Bretonnia, and on this map included multiple High Elf enclaves along the Western Coast of Bretonnia. This heavily implies that CA is adding a High Elf presence in the Old World in order to justify them coming back in the new table top game. The time period is in the 23rd century of the imperial calendar, fairly early in the reign of Finubar and before Tyrion, Teclis and other 8th edition High Elf characters rose to prominence. This implies either new Lord level characters or that Finubar will get some much needed flushing out.

==History==
The High Elves are a proud civilization with a long history, which they happen to measure in an arbitrarily convoluted way. Rather than adopt some standarised metric like 'years', they divide ages by the reign of the Phoenix Kings. And it's not like they have term limits, some eras are shorter than others as a result and rarely do they end peacefully.

=== {{anchor|The Golden Time}} The Golden Time (a.k.a. The 80s) ===
'''Imperial Calendar ≤ -4498'''

The Golden Time was before the Phoenix Kings. There isn't much [[fluff]] on it, as it is supposed to be the lost age of myth. Only that [[Ulthuan]]'s kingdoms were run by the [[Everqueen]] alone who lead out a positive if hippy-driven jive. Then the warp gates at the world poles collapsed and chaos attacked, immediately going after the Elves and fucking their shit up. The Everqueen's magic was mostly for peaceful shit and her soldiers had never faced anything worth mentioning before. The High Elves prayed to their head god, Asuryan, to help them. It should also be noted that Imperial Calendar -4498 is when the Dwarfs and the Elves started recorded history.

=== {{anchor|Aenarion}} Aenarion, the Defender ===
'''Imperial Calendar -4498 to -4419'''

Aenarion was a world traveler, back in the days when that meant something. He heard some crazy shit was happening at home so he went back, and shit was way more crazy than he heard. Everyone figured the world was ending, and everything that had ever been was pretty much being turned to Swiss cheese by Slaaneshi Daemon cocks while the Bloodletters stood back and called them horsefuckers.

So Aenarion went to the Shrine of Asuryan to pray. But they didn't do a god damned thing (primarily since every god who wants to do good also has an antethesis, so there's a permaban on screwing with mortals which gives Asuryan more time to sit on his ass and contemplate his navel). Aenarion said the High Elf equivalent of YOLO and jumped into Asuryan's sacrificing fire, which is a bit like running up to the pope, snatching his staff of office from his hand and beating yourself over the head with it. However, according to Fantasy that is a valid form of religious protest because god-daddy-bossman actually got off his ass for once as Aenarion was imbued with the power of Asuryan. He went outside the shrine, saw some [[Daemon|Daemons]], got on his pet-fucking-dragon and slew the entire war-host before Slaanesh could even jizz in her pants.

Elves all over suddenly saw someone with balls and promptly started cosplaying him, and because all elves look alike Daemons started taking psychology checks every time they saw pointy ears. Caledor the Dragontamer, who was like the first Teclis (but not anemic) swore fealty to Aenarion and gave him the death star plans to fucking over Chaos by making a black hole of magic somewhere so Daemons couldn't manifest in the world. He saved Astarielle, the Everqueen at the time, and they fell in love and wed. Soon everyone else asked to be on team Aenarion and gave him whatever shit they had that wasn't full of cockholes until the elves decided there'd be two rulers of their race from that point on, the elected king and the hereditary queen (one of the perks to being king is he bangs the Everqueen for a year until she gets a daughter to inherit the throne after her, but after that point they go back to their spouses and pretend it wasn't the best year of their life).

However, Chaos attacked Avelorn where the Astarielle lived, and killed her in a way that is apparently beyond description, and the children of Aenarion and the Everqueen were lost. Aenarion was ''[[RAGE|pissed]]''. So he went to a far off island and drew the sword from the stone. Except this sword was Widowmaker, a [[sword]] (or a [[spear]], or an [[Battleaxe|axe]]) of Khaine. Khaine is kind of like Rule 63 Khorne but with a penis, and unlike in 40k where he's a giant robot the Eldar use to fuck shit up, he's pure douchebag unleaded and likes fucking with elves more than Daemons do. So Widowmaker, <strike>which apparently shapeshifts to whatever kind of weapon you'd like to use the most (Aenarion gets points for the damn thing not turning into a katana or something else stupid, and then promptly loses them for not turning it into a dragon-mounted demolisher cannon)</strike> curses you to a really bad end which follows your entire line. Fun, huh?

So Aenarion sets off to get it, and along the way everyone (except his dragon), INCLUDING the Chaos Gods and the ghost of the Everqueen let's him know this ain't it, chief. But Aenarion has other ideas and claims the weird evil sword that enourages him to kill everyone, [[Fulgrim|a plot point which has definiftely never turned out poorly for anyone in any Warhammer IP]].

The most fucking crazy of the elves follow him to the Westernmost part of Ulthuan where he forms a new kingdom built and fed on bloodletters and severed Slaaneshi cocks. Along the way he rescues a witch named Morathi from some Slaaneshi fighters and promptly marries the chick (whether or not she was pregnant beforehand isn't known, but she gives birth to a son he names Malekith). The Nagarythe court becomes all kinds of fucked up, to a degree nobody knows about fully. Caledor, sick of waiting for the torture orgies to end, packed up and went to actually finish beating Chaos. Ever level-headed, Aenarion started a civil war in revenge for not participating in said orgies, but then the biggest Chaos invasion ever seen set up on the other side of the map and everyone knew everything was fucked 40k style.

Caledor and his bros turned an island in the middle of Ulthuan into a magic drain, but it put them outside time forever in an ''I Have No Mouth and Must Scream'' kind of way (although Caledor exists outside it immortally making sure nobody buttfucks the mages while they're standing there in magical amber). However, Aenerion got a mortal wound during a faceroll against the four Avatars of the Chaos Gods themselves. So he ran back to where he got The Sword of Khaine and puts it back in the rock. From there, his body is never found. He's presumed dead, unlike everyone else that kind of thing happens to. For three days Ulthuan gets the New Orleans treatment from the weather, and most of the elf race dies. But then it turns out the children of Aenarion and the Everqueen lived! Her last act was to make some unknown deal with nature, which resulted in Dryads being bros with elves and carrying the kids away where they'd be safe. Yvraine succeeded her mother as the Everqueen, and Aenarion's firstborn son Morelion declined the right to be the Phoenix King, which (incest aside) probably would have avoided ''so much trouble'' in the setting. Instead, he chilled in his sister's court where he married one of her maids. Thanks to Aenarion's dick move with the sword, all his descendants have an innate burning desire to seize Widowmaker, which is a less useful inheritance than you'd expect from being the great-great grandkid of the first Phoenix King.

=== {{anchor|Bel Shanaar}} Bel Shanaar, the Explorer ===
[[Image:butthurt2.jpg|thumb|right|A picture of Malekith after Bel Shanaar was named Phoenix King]]'''Imperial Calendar -4419 to -2749'''

So a year after Aenarion died, the Princes of Ulthuan started deliberating over who to elect to be the new king. Malekith, who had become a badass Fighter/Wizard and knew how to cheat at chess, was the top candidate from an outside perspective; but since Nagarythe torture orgies weren't exactly socially acceptable, nobody was too keen on the idea. Also Yvraine, one of the kids that the Dryads saved was the new Everqueen and was Malekith's half-sister. The Council thought it would be a bit fucked up since by law they had to produce a daughter (despite the fact that law was passed like five minutes ago in elf-years) who would be the next Everqueen and they didn't want the line of Everqueens to become the Habsburgs. So Malekith pinkie swore that he just wanted to be king because it'd make his pappy proud, but said he'd be alright with not being picked.

So naturally they elected a war hero who was known for not wanting to slap his dick on everything for his own glory, an elf named Bel Shanaar who was from Tiranoc. Morathi went ballistic about her son (who she may or may not have been fucking at this point) not becoming King, but Malekith managed not to cry and went as far away from Ulthuan as he could by becoming an explorer like his father. He took all his whining over to the New World and set up a bunch of colonies, went Orc hunting on safari, and discovered Dwarfs. Bel Shanaar visited the Dwarfs too, and signed a peace treaty that was supposed to last for the entirety of the history of the two races. Yeah, we know how well that went, especially since Malekith was appointed ambassador (though he was actually quite bro-tier and became good friends the Dwarf King, which went to shit after said Dwarf died).

The elves reconstruct Ulthuan and repopulate it (in other words, an enormous amount of time passes). It's about this time that the Cult of Pleasure begins to appear. It was a Slaaneshi cult that was into crazy Slaaneshi things like sacrifice, torture, and wearing fursuits. Malekith came home to stamp that shit out since it was supposedly based in his home kingdom of Nagarythe. He found out his mother, Morathi, was a member and when he confronted her about it she revealed she was the founder and high priestess. Which overall wasn't much of a surprise to anyone. He turned them all in to everyone's surprise but then had the message spread that a meeting was needed at the shrine of Asuryan immediately to discuss how awesome he was for turning them in, so the survival of the smartest went into effect as the Princes who didn't have much going on upstairs went, as well as Bel Shanaar since he had no choice. Malekith had the doors sealed, then told everyone Bel Shanaar was actually three very slender dwarfs in a robe and poisoned him before he could say "wut?" then turned around expecting to be made Phoenix King on the spot. The Princes immediately moved to hold a vote on whether or not Malekith should investigate himself for being a cultist, so Malekith assured them everything was cool and walked into the sacrifice pyre like his father did. Asuryan was disappointed. So after coming back as a piece of elf-shaped bacon his followers killed everyone, and took off running back to Nagarythe where they sealed him in full plate armor to keep his dumbass alive, complete with removable codpiece at his mother's request. That's when Malekith became the Witch King. What a douche.

=== {{anchor|Caledor I}} Caledor I, the Conqueror ===
[[File:HighElfvsDarkElf.png|thumb|right|450px|All this over who gets to wear the bloody crown.]]'''Imperial Calendar -2749 to -2198'''

Prince Imrik (not the one from the current day, this is the first one) never liked Malekith. As a result he was one of the only Princes not at the Shrine when Malekith killed everybody, and since he was Caledor's grandson he took on that name in honor of his ancestor. However, despite how much he and a bunch of other High Elves didn't like Malekith lots of elves loved him. So a super fantastical fun Civil War started. It went back and forth, but lots of important folks turn to Malekith's side. Hotek, a priest to the elf god Vaul, stole the super awesome Hammer of Vaul and runs off to join Malekith. This is probably around the time the Ring of Hotek is made, which took a lot of douchebaggery to form. The elves of Nagarythe went so evil, they started worshipping Daemons and renamed themselves Druchii (or as the Mon'keigh call them, the Dark Elves) to distinguish themselves from the Asur (High elves).

Caledor fought really hard, and chased a lot of Dark Elves back to Nagarythe itself. That's when Malekith pulled a 'Just as Planned' and started to mess with the Vortex in the middle of Ulthuan, which caused a lot of the Nagarythe to panic and rejoin the High Elves. What Malekith's wizards planned to do is tear a hole directly to the realm of Chaos, where the Daemons would for some reason not rape them and eat their souls and instead help them and salute Malekith as God Emperor of Elfkind (kids, don't do meth. You make decisions like this). What it really did is sink most of Nagarythe, and lots of the kingdom to the south Tiranoc. The world was rocked so hard, the Dwarfs felt it and decided to make a bone and cat leather mural of it.

Laughing, the majority of the Dark Elves load up in their ships made out of mountains (how does that work? A wizard did it; more like several wizards) and head West. Some Dark Elves remain, and continue to mess up the High Elves like the Viet Cong. Due to this, the High Elves stopped talking with their colonies in the new world due to having more important shit to do. Malekith suddenly got a boner for the Widowmaker (and he's had one ever since) and the High Elves skirmish with the Dark Elves on the high seas and on the island itself. Caledor has a series of unbreachable fortress gates erected in Ulthuan to ensure that it's a fucking BITCH to try to invade, each named after one of the possible mounts High Elves can be seen on (Griffon, Eagle, Phoenix, Dragon, Your Mom, and Unicorn).

Caledor does some mopping up, pushing the last of the Dark Elves off Ulthuan, finally coming to the Blighted Island himself to give Malekith the middle finger. He stood in the Altar of Khaine for awhile staring at the Widowmaker, then went "Naaaaah". Apparently the sword's charms aren't so powerful, and Aenarion is just the kinda guy who goes for one pringle and eats the whole can. On the way back though, a freak storm hits and some punkass Dark Elf pirates ambush him and light his ship on fire. But instead of being captured, the magnificent bastard decides to jump into the ocean fully dressed in his armor. He dies, of course. But the Emo Elves didn't get him. The kingdom he came from, the name of which was forgotten, was renamed in his honor for such badassery.

=== {{anchor|Caledor II}} Caledor II, the Warrior ===
'''Imperial Calendar -2198 to -1599'''

Caledor II was the kid of Caledor I and totally forgetting what the last son of a Phoenix King turned out like, the Princes elected him. However, as all kids are, he was a jackass. The Dark Elves shut themselves up in Naggaroth while Malekith plotted a scheme for epic lols. About this time, contact with the Old World and the Dwarfs was reestablished. They heard there was some crazy civil war going on, but they didn't really understand why something like that would happen since Dwarf logic is "all Dwarfs do everything their fathers and the guy with the whitest beard say without question, and all fathers and white beards follow the king without question" ([[Chaos Dwarfs|while pretending that Dwarfs who do deviate from this don't exist]]), so as far as they're concerned, the king is the voice of the hivemind.

What Malekith decided to do was fuck with the Dwarfs. But not only did they attack the dwarfs, they dressed up like High Elves and stole everything that the Dwarfs would miss (so the anvils (also known as female Dwarfs), and booze). This left the Dwarf King, Gotrek Starbreaker, sending envoys back to the High Elves asking, "What the fuck, dude?" Caledor II, though, ignored them. Completely. Finally the Dwarfs began to demand stuff, which got their diplomats shaved. Gotrek swore if the Dwarfs didn't get the money equal to what had been stolen or its price in Elfblood, he'd shave himself which caused the entirety of the Dwarf race to more or less make the same oath. The largest force of Dwarfs ever seen before or since gathered and began their assaults on the Elven colonies in the Old World. This starts what is called "[[The War of the Beard (The War of Vengeance)]]". Its during this war that the item "Cloak of Beards" is created.

Caledor II sends the entirety of the High Elf armies to kill Dwarfs. Both sides underestimated each other, and it was a complete loss on both sides. Dwarfs decide that all trees are evil and start clear cutting to piss of the elves, which gives some a sad but not to the extent the Dwarfs thought it would. When the Princes of Ulthuan vote to tell Caledor II he's a gigantic fuckhead, Caledor II screams like a 3 year old and tells everyone to fuck off. High Elves start using Dark Elf tactics like poisoning Dwarf water sources and desecrating shrines. After awhile Caledor II crosses the sea and tries to push the Dwarfs away from the colonies. He kills Gotrek's son and thinks he's a badass all of a sudden. At this point it's all downhill for the High Elves. Caledor II's bro gets killed by a Dwarf whose last name is changed to "Elfbane" after the feat, and the colony of Athel Maraya is wiped off the map. The Elves try and attack a few 'Dorf Fortresses, but are obliterated and sent scurrying back to their colonies, pursued by a single souped-up Dwarven miner.

A few hundred years later Caledor II comes back and launches an attack that's supposed to kill off the dwarfs. That didn't really go according to plan. In a battle with King Gotrek himself, Caledor II is decapitated. They take the Phoenix Crown forged by all the Princes and Nobles of Ulthuan for Aenarion himself for his coronation, and heads back to their mountains. The Elves try to draw them out of the mountains but the Dwarfs refuse. Just as they're lining up to kamikaze Karaz-a-Karak, the 'Dorf capital, they hear Malekith is trying to rape Ulthuan. The High Elves in the Old World are ordered to get their ass back to their island, but some refuse, becoming Wood Elves (who continue to get consistently slaughtered by Beastmen and Dwarfs while fucking with Bretonnians). With the death of Caledor II, the bloodline of King Caledor I was broken, and as a result the people of Caledor began to consider every one of their naturalized citizens to be his descendants. Yep, that's how Caledorians roll.

=== {{anchor|Caradryel}} Caradryel, The Peacemaker ===
[[Image:droopy.gif|thumb|right|Caradryel, wondering why the fuck everyone around him is such a fucking Double Mon'keigh.]]'''Imperial Calendar -1599 to -996'''

See, while the High Elves were fighting the Dwarfs, Malekith took a bunch of his ships and invaded Nagarythe, and built a fortress there called Anlec made out of those mountain-ships. After the traditional one year mourning period ended, the High Elves decided to name Caradryel (a nobody Prince from Yvresse who's qualifications were more or less "nobody hates him") their leader since he was so unlike Caledor II. He was a shit soldier, but had a high WIS score so they figured he'd be good.

Ulthuan fell under attack from Dark Elves, as well as beasties the Dark Elves brought and unleashed in the mountains that have never been wiped out (rumors that they are the inbred children of Malekith and Morathi are unfounded, but probably true). After his first proclamations came out from the Everqueen's bed, that the colonies were to be abandoned and the War of the Beard (as well as the Phoenix Crown) conceded to the Dwarfs, the Princes and Nobles started to complain. Caradryel promptly told them to STFU, said he'd rather lose the crown than the Kingdom, and went back to making a new Everqueen. Since he was smart enough to know he didn't know shit about war and was busy being knee-deep in the best elf democracy can buy, he called on the greatest elves among the Princes to lead the armies of Ulthuan against the Dark Elves (among them the line of Morelion).

Tethlis, Prince of Caledor (the Kingdom, not the wizard or the two Kings), became the greatest of these military-minded men and put the hurt on the Dark Elves (but wasn't able to beat them fully). During this time, most of the modern High Elf military tactics were developed. Caradryel even contributed when he got the idea that maybe giving his troops shore leave instead of leaving them in place until they died at their posts was a good idea! High Elves built a giant navy and became the dominant naval power in the world, and Caradryel eventually died in his sleep, becoming the first Phoenix King to get a happy ending (y'know, not counting that first year they all get).

=== {{anchor|Tethlis}} Tethlis, The Slayer ===
'''Imperial Calendar -996 to -691'''

Remember Tethlis? As a wee babby, Tethlis's entire family was slaughtered in the worst ways by Dark Elves doing a victory lap amongst the citizenry of Caledor after one of their raids overcame the local guards. This ensured he'd be ready to enact a non-expiring WAAAGH against them. Tethlis was a bro of Caradryel and learned how not to be a fuckhead when it came to the civilian side of things. After dragons began hibernating longer and longer, Tethlis wrote essays on military structure and ways to utilize strategies other than "we're better, we will win". After becoming King, he enacted most of those policies into practice and set out a mandate requiring every settlement to provide for the common defense with a citizen levy made up of civilians trained like soldiers, then let back into civilian life like a god tier militia. Each city was required to have the facilities necessary to train said levies from that point onwards. He sent the armies of Ulthuan out with CREEEEEED tier planning and strategy. High Elf armies only fought battles they could win with minimal casualties, towns and cities left entirely undefended were ones that were not in any threat of danger at all.

Several centuries later, even the Shadowlands were reclaimed. At the eve of the assault on Anlec, Tethlis gave the orders that nothing was to be left of the city. No walls, plants, or prisoners. He reclaimed the Blighted Island minutes before the ritual to unlock the Widowmaker to work in Dark Elf hands was completed with the most violently bloody battle the High Elves had ever known prior (picture D-Day but with dragons, giant eagles, wizards, and Lothern Seaguard, but times a thousand). With every Dark Elf they could find dead, Tethlis gave the word the army was going to push straight onto Naggaroth and wipe out the Dark Elf race; but as he went back to his ship, he found himself drawn to the dreaded Altar of Khaine with its Widowmaker. He found Aenarion's armor which was apparently either ignored or unseen by Morathi's witches, but without the body of the hero to go with it. He gave it to one of his companions named Auaralion, who was the descendant of Morelion (the firstborn son of Aenarion and the Everqueen of his time). Auaralion went back to the ship with his awesome new swag, and it was passed down the family to Tyrion in the present day.

So now comes the point of the story that's left in doubt. One account says that Tethlis looked at the Widowmaker and thought he'd read enough TV Tropes to judge it a baaaaad idea (or perhaps he just wanted to look more like Caledor the 1st), and dismissed the White Lions so he could feel the sheer horror of the thing to steel himself for the assault on Naggaroth when a Druchii assassin killed him. The second version is that he decided to /fail and grabbed it. The White Lion bodyguards realized what would happen and teamkilled him with their giant fucking axes right before it was fully free from the base. The third version combines the two, claiming that Druchii assassins were lying in wait but were killed by the White Lion bodyguards who then teamkilled Tethlis when he started to pull the Widowmaker out of the shrine. In support of the latter, Malekith '''did''' send assassins to hide at the shrine and make sure that Tethlis didn't draw the Widowmaker, but the assassins never reported back to him.

Either way, Tethlis died the most heroic and fucking badass motherfucker who ever lived in Warhammer Fantasy. Can you dig it?

=== {{anchor|Bel-Korhadris}} Bel-Korhadris, The Scholar King ===
'''Imperial Calendar -691 to 499'''

After so many years of nonstop war, the High Elves despite for the first time in their history being on the offensive against the Dark Elves, couldn't bear any more war. They elected the most famous mage of that age, who was also a Prince. The Dark Elves had been reduced to just town guards and non-combatants with Malekith and Morathi being the only beings of any power they could call on, and Warriors of Chaos took advantage of their weakness to begin launching raids in revenge for the years that they had suffered as sport game for Druchii nobility, and while the High Elves still had a military force capable of sweeping the entire world clean they had little else as Ulthuan was so devastated by the years of war that 1945's Europe looked like a pristine diamond. Bel-Korhandris called back the invasion force halfway across the ocean, preferring to focus on ensuring the High Elf race would survive rather than ensuring the Dark Elf race didn't (so assuming Tethlis WAS going for the Widowmaker, the result would have been the good of DE no longer being in the game, and the curse of the HE not being supported by GW either). Bel figured the High Elves could defeat the Dark Elves once and for all, but they'd never recover from the effort and the extinction of all elves would be guaranteed as a result. A real "which is worse - punish the innocent, or spare the guilty?" scenario.

Monsters roamed Ulthuan with such freedom that it looked little different from the Chaos Wastes in summer. First order of business; slaughter them all. Bel-Korhadris declared an official age of rebirth, he literally declared a second golden age was about to happen. The White Tower of Hoeth (GW can't into creativity, it's a giant wizard tower) was built using every resource not being devoted to rebuilding everything else. He founded the Loremasters of Hoeth to guard Ulthuan, and to teach everything from swordplay to military strategy to every branch of magic (INCLUDING ways to use CHIM to make coffee!). All forms of knowledge are available in the libraries of Hoeth in books made as much out of magic as they are of paper (read; magic computers). Bel-Korhadris also realized that it takes all kinds to be badass, and manipulated pop culture within the High Elf race to encourage dick-measuring contests amongst the nobility and those on shore leave from the levies and guard posts. As a result anyone who could hold a sword started becoming murder-hobos and killing monsters the Druchii had left.

Finally, he reinforced the Waystones and put thousands upon thousands of small protections made using magic throughout Ulthuan, from making parts of the coastlines unable to be navigated to making non-High Elves unable to find the Tower of Hoeth to weakening the gate between the world of living elves and dead elves to allow ancestors to participate in unseen ways to protect their heirs.

Every place in Ulthuan got an enchantment to protect it, and many places got many more. Shortly before the Tower was complete, he died and unlike most Phoenix King's whose burials are overseen by the Phoenix Guard the body of Bel-Korhadris was overseen by his children and former students, being entombed at the base of the White Tower where his spirit sometimes helps kids with their term papers. Overall, a real bro tier king.

=== {{anchor|Aethis}} Aethis, The Poet ===
'''Imperial Calendar 499 to 1121'''

Now THIS king was a pussy. See, by this point the High Elf Princes and Princesses had some history to look back on, and saw that the best kings came in two flavors. Ones who were badasses known for beating the shit out of Dark Elves and Chaos, or guys with absolutely no military experience that were quietly spoken and unambitious. Since the previous king was the latter and had done a good job they chose another person of that type, a poet from Saphery who's only major accomplishments were being born to a very prominent High Elven family and entertaining the Everqueen's court with his artistic retellings of past glories of the elves (avoiding that awkward pre-coital moment where the Everqueen has to pretend to know his name). As a result of such a life, he knew jack shit about actually being in the military, most of his knowledge coming from the ballads of Tethlis, the two King Caledors, and Aenarion that he had told in the past. He was also a very bad judge of character to boot.

Things went pretty well at first, Dark Elves stopped raiding and had no contact with High Elves for a long period, Dwarfs stopped being pissed at the High Elves and just resigned themselves to having a long grudge that would be resolved by insults spoken whenever possible instead of through bloodshed (this is the first time the High Elves start trying to get a price in gold for the return of the crown), and although the Empire was founded by Sigmar during the reign of Bel-Korhadris the High Elves living in Ulthuan only heard of it in the early years of Aethis.

High Elves started looking back at their own past now that they had a chance to catch their breath, and realized they had lost almost their entire history prior to Aenarion and that there was more unoccupied cities and ruins than populated cities and intact structures. They began to rebuild their culture by stepping up the baby-making efforts, turning the Anulii of Chrace into a giant Mount Rushmore, creating magic items that WEREN'T made for war, composing some of the most beautiful music ever written, painting portraits that moved Harry Potter style of everyone whose face could be seen or still remembered, and generally making themselves the greatest race in the world without question again. Lothern went from some being Innsmouth to being New York. Military outposts were remade to be as majestic and enchanting as anything an invading army had ever seen before. Old weapons of war were decorated with silver and gold inlays, dead trees anywhere in Ulthuan were cut down and disposed of and new ones planted in their place. Now all this sounds really good right? Had that been the only thing Aethis was known for, it'd have been the perfect age.

But that's not how things worked out. As time went on, the Elves became complacent. They began to believe that peace would last forever.

The navy was sent to drydock and taken apart for building materials, soldiers were dismissed and expected to take up non-military jobs, weapons and armor from every Kingdom were sold overseas to humans and Dwarfs, and any veteran or soldier who tried to maintain their vigilance and keep Ulthuan ready to defend itself was mocked and manipulated out of power. The last great military commander of this age, Prince Valedor of Ellyrion, wound up stripped of his wealth and reputation by the dandies at the Phoenix Court after he delivered a SHORYUKEN to the face of some poncey noble who tried to take the contents of the Griffon Gate armory to use as props in a theatrical production of Aethis's newest work.

So after 622 years of rule by a guy looking to shore up the pride and pleasure of his race, the Cult of Pleasure unsurprisingly once again surfaced. Fortunately, Bel-Korhadris once again proved his ability to get shit done even after his death. One of his last acts in life was to create The Loremasters of Hoeth order, which included the Swordmasters; all up they're the equivalent of High Elf CIA. The order had been keeping a watchlist for Ulthuan's most wanted and terrorist suspects. During their shadow war against the Cult of Pleasure they came to believe that someone at Aethis's court was a Dark Elf traitor, so the Loremaster of Hoeth at the time (Morvael) sent him a message to be on the lookout. Somehow this letter was mixed up with Aethis's fan mail (because let's face it, who the fuck would write him about ANYTHING else? It's likely Morvael did it on purpose otherwise the letter would never have reached Aethis), and after it was read to the entire court Aethis was assassinated in front of everyone by his Chancellor, <s>Palpatine</s> Girathon, who was a traitor (later retconned to be a Dark Elf double agent. [[Skub|As for Aethis' death, High Elves say it was with a poisoned dagger, Dark Elves say he was strangled with one of his silk scarves]]). So altogether, this was the best of times and it was the worst of times. The most easily preventable fuckups happened in this age, but so did the things that make the current High Elves so glorious to behold. They know it too, the duality of things is big to the High Elves if you hadn't realized that looking at their language. At any rate, if there's a Phoenix King referred to most by High Elves it's probably this one.

=== {{anchor|Morvael}} Morvael, The Impetuous ===
'''Imperial Calendar 1121 to 1503'''

Morvael was from Yvresse, and was the first High Loremaster of Hoeth after the founding of the order. Despite being a fucking genius, he had absolutely no clue how to lead a nation or run a military. In addition, he was VERY emotional and had to stop games of Warhammer 40k to properly mourn each Space Marine mini who was slain each turn. He also had extreme insomnia, constantly having nightmares about Matt Ward fucking up the High Elf 8th edition update. When Malekith found out, he used his magic to troll Morvael throughout his reign with even worse nightmares, such as ones about [[the End Times]].

His first act was to order an attack on the Dark Elves with what was left of the navy. It went along the lines of "We should, um, like... we should... attack... someone. Yeah. Attack someone. Can I fuck the Everqueen now?" The Dark Elves, still rebuilding their offensive forces but having become quite adept at repelling attacks from sea, wiped out the High Elf fleet. The High Elves were not expecting this, having thought the Druchii more or less destroyed. To the contrary, the shoe had been put on the other foot after Aethis's reign. The Dark Elves immediately retook the Blighted Isle, rebuilt Anlec, and push as far south as the Griffon Gate. Morvael shat himself, then called on the citizen levies and increased their quota for troops to almost 100% of the able population. In addition, arms and armor was to be provided for as much by the individual as the nation. Taking a page out of Caradryel's book he then appointed a military-minded man, named Mentheus who was Caledorian, to be supreme commander of the Asur armies. The nation, formerly the single center of wealth in the world against which Dwarfs and Tomb Kings amounted to pennies, was rendered as broke as a Bretonnian meth addict building a new fleet.

Meanwhile, he continued his counterintelligence against the Cult of Pleasure which was recruiting nobility used to lives of excess under Aethis who were easy to recruit into spywork and summoning Daemonettes to wreak havoc in cities. So many execution orders for heretics came to his desk he began to lose his shit on a regular basis, crying whenever he wasn't crawling on hands and knees trying his best not to an hero. He stayed good at his job though, and unlike his predecessor was an excellent judge of character, promoting individuals who knew their shit and finding ways to relieve those unfit or too old to continue to work excellently without pissing them off and turning them to the enemy. Fortresses outside Ulthuan were established, and High Elves began policing the world for Chaos and Dark Elves (High Elves confirmed for Americans in the best way, ironic since Dark Elves live in the geographical equivalent of North America). Mentheus, top general and most trusted adviser also became the only one keeping Morvael going.

Finally it came time for pushing the Dark Elves back off Ulthuan again. Mentheus laid siege to Anlec and personally lead each charge from the back of his dragon companion Nightfang. Meanwhile, Morvael stayed at the Shrine of Asuryan in the protection of the Phoenix Guard. In the final day of the assault, Mentheus was killed and Nightfang flipped the fuck out, slaughtering the residents of the city and turning it to gravel again. As soon as word reached Morvael that his only remaining friend was dead, he walked into the sacrificing fire (still called that even though they don't use it that way anymore) a second time and for two days burned silently until on the third day at noon his ashes were blown by a magic wind into the inner sea of Ulthuan. So even though he may have been a bigger wuss than even Aethis, Morvael managed to get shit done and as long as shit gets done, you're golden.

=== {{anchor|Bel-Hathor}} Bel-Hathor, The Sage ===
'''Imperial Calendar 1503 to 2163'''

So now the High Elf Princes and Princesses were divided on what to look for in a king. Some pointed to the need for a warrior, since the last two peaceful civilian kings were pansies. Some said they needed a peacemaker because warrior kings also have the tendency to fuck up royally, and this was the worst time to gamble on fate. Eventually they compromised and elected Bel-Hathor, from Saphery.

They did this because he was an eccentric dude who tended to, rather than argue, point out all valid points then quickly leave. Everyone figured they could manipulate him to their side. They thought wrong. Turns out he had a 30+ CHA rating, and could convince you after coming to him to demand the 3 month overdue rent for his apartment to instead drop your pants for him to fuck you roughly and you'd walk away thinking you got your way. All the douchebaggery from the powdered-wig elves that was encouraged in the time of Aethis was put to a stop right off the bat. The hawk nobles who wanted to go back to the era of Tethlis and pushed for an invasion of Naggaroth with the High Elf forces didn't get their way. The dove High Elves who wanted to go back to the era of Aethis and use the High Elf navy to get silk sheets from Cathay didn't get their way either. Instead, Bel-Hathor focused on getting shit done the same way the other Bel king, Bel-Korhadris, had.

Suddenly mankind wasn't just some new insect in the jungles somewhere, they were patrolling the seas and dealing with Elves on a regular basis in some colonies. The Warriors of Chaos population had boomed, and were now raiding all the nations of the world. Bel-Hathor had the mages of Hoeth set up a series of magical defenses for the east coast of Ulthuan that move around rocks and islands capable of sinking ships like nothing as well as mists that make you unable to see anything outside your boat and few things within it.

Eventually, humans from the Empire and Bretonnia managed to reach the coasts of Eataine during the beginning of the Age of Exploration (which apparently happens in the middle of the middle ages in the Warhammer Fantasy universe). Bel-Hathor banned all non-Elves (along with the Druchii obviously) from setting foot on Ulthuan under threat of death, but some elves became fascinated about the new civilizations of the humans. In particular, an Eataineian named Finubar set sail with the humans when they departed (see Finubar's entry for details of his journey). Upon returning, Finubar told the court of Bel-Hathor about the wonders he'd seen and the changes in the world and they listened like an audience seeing Star Wars for the first time (the original and prequel trilogy + good Legends that is, not the stupefied shock and rage expressed when the Disney content was shown). Finubar suggested allowing humans into Ulthuan, but with limits to keep them in check. Bel-Hathor agreed and Finubar's hometown of Lothern was shaped to a state that made it impossible to travel inland except by boat, which is one of the hardest things one could attempt if the High Elves don't want you to thanks to multiple giant gates manned by the most disciplined elves and best made Bolt Throwers imaginable.

At the completion of the renovations, Elf mariners were sent to guide humans to Lothern and EVERYONE wanted to go, even a small number of Dwarfs. Lothern went from a large fishing city to perhaps the greatest city in the world within a century. Bel-Hathor died of old age without any major shit going down in his time, and was hailed as one of the greatest Phoenix Kings.

=== {{anchor|Finubar}} Finubar, The Seafarer ===
'''Imperial Calendar 2163 to Present'''

Finubar is the present Phoenix King in the Warhammer Fantasy universe. He was featured in the (damnably non-canon) Warhammer Online MMO game, and as a result we finally have pics of what he looks like. Not that he's going to be getting a mini anytime soon however. During Bel-Hathor's reign humans first landed on Ulthuan, and after being held in lockup at the border security office they were told to GTFO and never return at Bolt Throwerpoint. Some Elves of the nobility were interested in the stretched Dwarfs with the blobby ears and wanted to come with, Finubar among them.

Finubar began his journey in L'Anguille of Bretonnia and observed how the Mon'keigh there had based their entire culture on the ruins of abandoned High Elf colonies (Bretonnian Knights are confirmed as Silver Helm fanboys) which they had hid from Orcs and Daemons in when they were still learning the art of the club. While Elves had all "known" that Humans were incapable of anything other than mud and dung buildings and worshiping Daemons (of course, Nehekhara excluded. but then again, thanks to[[Nagash| a certain bonehead]] it was basically reduced to a backyard of grumpy skeletons and mummies yelling "FUCK OFF FROM MY LAWN" 24/7 for millenia now. So basically like Ulthuan under Bel-Hathor. Except Human version. And More Skeletal. With Pyramids. And lots of Sand.), the reality was that the Humans were now at the same point more or less that the High Elves had been at during their Golden Age before the first Daemon ordeal. Finubar began making friends with any Human who would speak to him and giving them gifts to ensure that Humans and High Elves would be allies in the future. He ventured into Athel Loren and saw what became of the colonists who refused to return in the years of Caradryel, and how they'd become a race so vastly different from the High Elves, and although Finubar tried to befriend them the wood elves treated the High Elves the same as they did humans; that being "non-Wood Elf, and thus not as smart as us". Finubar was the first Elf since the days of Caledor to set foot in Dwarf Fortresses, where he did his absolute best to try and befriend them again (even going as far as trying Bugman's Light, a feat few Dwarfs have even ever achieved).

Finubar returned to Ulthuan many years later a celebrity and brought thing such as Bretonnian tapestries, Empire bibles, Wood Elf charms, and Dwarf ale back for the populace to be amazed at. After Bel-Hathor died, the Princes and Princesses of Ulthuan were left knowing that this was the beginning of a whole new age for their race, and they picked the one elf responsible for setting it all in motion (so it's either his legacy or all his fault). It didn't hurt Bel-Hathor had expressed desire for Finubar to be his heir though.

Finubar seems to have learned from all his predecessors, getting shit done while not making stupid choices. While Finubar isn't some untrained poet (to the contrary, he's a badass in the battles he's been in) he's still more than willing to let other, more badass individuals get shit done. Finubar stays away from the powdered wig elves who play politics over minor things, and instead leaves his seat to young Princes and Princesses he sees promise in (of course while watching them and minimizing any fuckups they might cause), all to train the next generation as a whole to rule with authority and wisdom. He travels the world still, setting up diplomatic meetings with the humans (and Dwarfs) of the world. These two things together caused the Princes of Ulthuan to begin to revolt to depose him early in his reign while he was away having drinks with Thorgrim, and it took the Everqueen to walk into the headquarters of the soon to be rebellion, glare at the assembled nobles, slowly shake her head and crack her knuckles, then walk out to end it.

While most Phoenix Kings deal with one major war in their reign, some none at all, Finubar has to deal with a giant world ending battle every month it seems. Initially there was small skirmishes in which Finubar sent individual High Elf Princes and Commanders to save the good aligned races of the world and to erect more Waystones. But soon came the Great Chaos incursion (which marks the beginning of the modern era for every civilization in the game) where the races of man, Wood Elf, and Dwarf were about to be wiped out by Chaos as well as Orcs; and the High Elves were under attack by the Dark Elves in the single biggest war between the two since the first one that marked the split between their races. Every kingdom suffered greatly, especially Avelorn, and the Everqueen was thought dead. Two of the greatest elves to ever live, the twins Tyrion and Teclis, saved her and won the Battle of Finuval Plain. Rather than become complacent, Finubar announced the High Elves must stay on the alert and the worst was yet to come. The heroes of Ulthuan all became personal friends of Finubar if they weren't before, each left to their own devices to see to the world as they saw fit while still being able to contact one another and send for aid if needed. Teclis, with the great approval of Finubar, went to save the Old World and teach humans disciplined magic where before that was only druidic mysticism gleaned from the Wood Elves. The kingdom of Caledor, which had become complacent and too prideful to participate in any battle that wasn't against the end of the world, suddenly sent word to Finubar that everything from Dragons to Dragon Princes was at his disposal against whatever foe he could find for them.

Skaven began to assault Ulthuan for the first time (each time being beaten to the last rat). Yvresse was assaulted and razed to the city itself by Orcs, with the High Elves barely beating them back and causing the elves of Yvresse to become distant and unwilling to help the rest of their race unless it benefited their kingdom. Morathi once again tried to unmake the rift in the center of Ulthuan with a scheme that involved a mind-controlled Ellyrian Reaver who was abandoned after a raid against Naggaroth, and resulted in the Everqueen almost being killed, Lothern almost falling, the Phoenix Gate being destroyed for the hundredth or so time, and finally the deaths of the best friends of Tyrion and Finubar respectively as the named redshirts (mauve shirt, as TVTropes defines that character archetype) needed to give the battles drama (on the plus side, Morathi was driven a bit less focused and a lot more insane, another of Slaanesh's champions was killed in a fuckawesome way by Alarielle, and Malekith's dragon was crippled by Imrik of Caledor for life as well as him losing his magic shield in the shallows of Ulthuan's coastline).

The current development in the Warhammer Fantasy plot involves the kidnapping of Finubar and Alarielle's daughter Aliathra by vampires, upon whom the future of the Everqueen line as well as the High Elves friendship with Dwarfs hinges. Finubar has gone and locked himself in his room for some reason and it's revealed that Tyrion fathered Aliathra with the Everqueen during their first year, making Finubar a cuckold as well.

As of End Times: Khaine, Finubar is dead. Teclis betrayed him by allowing Malekith or a projection of Malekith into Finubar's tower, where one of 3 things happen: 1. Malekith kills Finubar himself; 2. Malekith releases a Bloodthirster into the room that kills Finubar; 3. Finubar commits suicide out of shame having realised that the current line of Phoenix Kings had cheated and stolen the throne from the rightful heir, Malekith. In any case, he dies horribly.

Now that you know the history of the High Elves, you need to get your army and start playing! GLORY TO THE ASUR!

==Regions==

For the most part, the High Elves live on the island/continent of Ulthuan, with ten kingdoms ruling the island together, as well as several colonies around the world.

===Ulthuan===
[[File:Adrian smith high elf warriors.jpg|thumb|right|400px]]
{{main|Ulthuan}}

Fluff paint jobs and armies tend to come from the ten Kingdoms and use their colors and troop choices. Although the regions are called "Kingdoms" and the leaders "Princes and Princesses", in truth Ulthuan is a republic where the nobility appoint the princes who function as mayors and governors, and the princes elect the king. Oftentimes the same family will hold a position through the years, but the low population of Elves (and rebellious youths trying to re-enact ''Romeo and Juliet'' but without the tragic ending usually) ensure that it isn't hard to get into the family.

The kingdoms are divided into the five outer ones that border the ocean, and the five inner ones that border the inner sea with a large mountain ring that has very few passes separating the inner and outer Kingdoms. The Annulii mountains, as they're called, are a magnet for the worlds magical energy, and as such chaos mutations are not uncommon among the wildlife. Even non-Chaos beasties get buffed magically to Tarrasque levels and come down south for elf snacks, requiring the forces of the High Elves (particularly Silver Helms, White Lions, and nobility who want to make a name for themselves as heroes) to keep such things at bay. No living thing has ever been to the top of ANY of Ulthuan's mountains, and supposedly a realm apart from either the Warp OR the material world has its entrance there (High Elves believe it's the domain of the gods, but who the fuck knows).

All High Elf Kingdom lists can include Archers, Silver Helms, and Spearmen as default in their themes since these are so common to High Elves. Lothern Seaguard can be used as well since every kingdom has a coastline, even if having special marines as troops isn't what they're known for. Representing one kingdom in your army, or two that share a border or similar cultural values makes for a nifty looking army to show off to your friends. Alternatively, you can simply paint every High Elf mini you have in the colors that make the most sense to you (all Reavers in Ellyrion colors, all Silver Helms in Tiranoc colors, all Spearmen in generic High Elf colors, all Shadow Warriors in Nagarythe colors, or even all of your minis from all troop choices to look like an Autumn or Winter gear style, etc.) so if you like to switch strategies a lot and buy lots of minis cheap on eBay, you'll never have a truly mismatched army.

The usual secondary paint jobs are for the five gates, the three fortresses in the world oceans that maintain safe passage for traders friendly to the High Elves, the shrines to the elven gods or mythological beings, and the remaining colonies. Although the days of rampant colonization are long past, Elves still do maintain holdings outside Ulthuan. Primarily these are established to keep watch over enemies, or to maintain a vigil over the important sides and routes around the world. Rarely, High Elves establish themselves in the cities of other races to promote relations or seek a mutual exchange to greater benefit. They may or may not don the local colors of whatever nation they are in, but they always maintain the colors of Ulthuan foremost. Noteable is Marienburg and Altdorf, although with increased relations with Dwarfs a player could field an army in the colors of a Dwarf Fortress as well. In addition, several fortresses are named in the Heraldry book but given no description (so they're a blank check for your paint job of choice).

=== Fortresses ===
Found in the southern parts of the world, these holds are staging and resupply areas for merchant ships, friendly military forces, and also serve to limit how far naval forces hostile to the High Elves can travel.

* Tower of the Sun: A coastal fortress that lies at the southern tip of the Warhammer equivalent of what is either India or Indonesia. The colors of this fortress are white and yellow, with the symbol of a High Elf tower in black on everything.
* Fortress of Dawn: The Fortress of Dawn is located at the tip of the Warhammer South Africa, beyond the impassable mountains that isolate the dead realm of the Tomb Kings. One of the largest Waystones in the world lies at the heart of this fortress. It's colors are light blues and the orange/yellow range, with white. The symbol of the fortress is a sun rising above a black wall or dark blue waves.
* Citadel of Dusk: The Citadel of Dusk cannot be seen from the outside, and only those who are assigned to it or bring supplies can see it. Located at the southern tip of Lustria, it guards the southern routes leading to the Orient. It's colors are black, red, and dark blue. Its symbols are the same as the Fortress of Dawn.

=== Shrines of Ulthuan ===
Shrines are likely to be guarded by warrior priests, or surrounding areas with military strength will have troops that don their symbols and colors. Using Phoenix Guard modified to look like they belong to that particular shrine is useful, otherwise using whatever choices seem to fit the best (LSG for Mathlann, spellcasters and Swordmasters for Lileath, etc). A number of these shrines are, in no particular order:

* The Shrine of Lileath lies in southern Eataine's coast.
* The Shifting Shrine of Loec somewhere on the islands south of Eataine.
* The Shrine of Asuryan where all High Elves of noble birth are expected to travel to once in their lives is north of Eataine on the coast of the Inner Sea,.
* The Circle of Night in northern Eataine's coast.
* The White Tower of Hoeth is technically a giant shrine to Hoeth (also contains a shrine to Lileath as well) while the proper Shrine of Hoeth is in northern Saphery's coast.
* The Shrine of Mathlann is found on an island east of Yvresse.
* Isha's Circle is in Avelorn's deeps and the Everqueen visits this site to pray for High Elf fertility and re-population as well as protection from Chaos.
* The Seven Sisters shrine is on the south eastern Cothique coast.
* The Moonspire Shrine in southern Avelorn's woods, Oakheart's Pyre (unknown purpose, possibly to a treekin?) (Oakheart is what the High Elves called Durthu) in northern Avelorn.
* Lion's March is on Chrace's coast (likely to the first white lion Rahagra).
* The Gaen Vale (an island of amazon elves that can be represented as Sisters of Avelorn, who kill any male to set forth on the island and line the paths with their bones) is located on a large island south of Avelorn and near the middle of the Inner Sea and houses a shrine dedicated to all of the female gods as well as nature itself; all High Elf women are expected to take a pilgrimage to it at least once in their lives to learn a prophesy about their future.
* The Shrine of Khaine lies on the Blighted Island north of the borders of Nagarythe and Chrace.
* The Rock of Galirian lies north of Nagarythe on a large island, the Stone of Ellyrion (likely dedicated to Kurnous) is west of Ellyrion in the Annulii summit.
* The Shrine of Remembrance lies isolated by Annulii from Nagarythe but within it's borders.
* The Shrine of Addaioth lies in Caledor outside the Annulii.
* The Circle of Dawn is found on Caledor's coastline north in the Inner Sea.
* Vaul's Anvil is found within a volcanic island south of Caledor.

=== Miscellaneous sites ===
These sites are named and given locations, but no description. It's a blank check for whatever you want your army to be. Tor Elithis lies in Warhammer Australia, the Gates of Calith lie between the southernmost tip of New Zealand and Antarctica, Tor Elasor lies in the southern Indian Ocean (obviously it is most likely on an island), the Tower of Stars lies in east Africa in the area Somalia would be. The sites of Ulthuan are too numerous to mention, just a glance at the updated map in the newest army book or heraldry book lists almost a hundred sites.

==Relations==
'''Elves'''
* Asrai: High Elves and Wood Elves tend not to interact much, especially considering the fact that the Wood Elves never leave their forest and the High Elves tend to hate leaving their homeland. There are, however, cases of the two interacting which usually lead to the High Elves being made uncomfortable at the Wood Elves's hedonism and the Wood Elves being put off by the High Elves' prudishness, but the two races of elves do get along much better than the High Elves and the Dark Elves, though that is not a high bar to clear. Funny enough, their criticisms of each-other are basically word-for-word copies of /tg/'s general criticisms of each (Wood Elves being selfish tree-hugging jerks, and High Elves being unbearable know-it-all pricks).
* Druchii: High Elves and Druchii absolutely hate each other with a burning passion that makes the hatred Khorne and Slaanesh feel for each other seem mild in comparison. The Druchii and the Asur have ''always'' been at war, and have never once had anything close to an alliance (barring the End Times, but let's forget that happened.) Druchii constantly raid and pillage the outer walls of Ulthuan, usually losing thousands of soldiers on the great walls of Ulthuan, but they always come again. Consistent writing? The fuck is that?!
** This extends to the Total War games such that, even if a player manages to get highly positive diplomatic relations between High and Dark Elves, the characters in the diplomacy screens will still talk to each-other in the most hostile and insulting tones possible.

'''Humans'''
* The Empire: Initially, interaction between two nations was almost non-existent, with only some trade, probably. Things got a little better after the [[Great War Against Chaos]], when Asur finally recognized Men as a somewhat equal race and even showed them the secrets of Magic. Since then, they are allies against the Chaos and neutral nations otherwise.
* Bretonnia: Similar to the Empire, though interactions between these two are less prominent than with the Empire, mostly because Bretonnian Lords make the Asur look like humble slaves by comparison.
* Other human nations: Their relations can be mostly summed up to one word: trade. Asur trade with [[Cathay]] and [[Kingdoms of Ind|Ind]], they can sometimes be seen in [[Tilea]] and [[Marienburg]]. Hell, some brave Elves even sail to Erengrad and trade with [[Kislev]].

'''Dwarves''': Before the War of the Beard these guys used to be tight allies, but due to Malekith's scheming, the Phoenix King's incompetence at the time and the Dwarf's need for vengeance, their alliance shattered into a massive war. Since then, the races are mostly just bitter towards each other. They aren't outwardly hostile but they very much just prefer to avoid each other. They do sometimes begrudgingly work together, and due to the High King's more liberal attitude towards forgiveness and the Elves being more invested in the other races, their relations have ''slightly'' improved, but don't expect them to bro hug anytime soon.

'''Lizardmen''': These Order-aligned races have a very complicated relationship, as their mistrust is fueled by racism from both sides and the unwillingness to deepen their cooperation. There are much worse enemies from all sides, however, which is why they are mostly seen as allies... for a while. Have had a few notable historical team-ups, and it helps that they hate the same folks (Dark Elves and Chaos namely).

'''Chaos''': obviously, Asur do not ally with any of the Chaos races and regard all of them as their enemies.
* Warriors of Chaos
* Norsca: The great Chaos Vikings know Ulthuan as Alfheim, and sometimes raid it, but not as much as the [[Old World]] because they know how cruel and vengeful the Elves are when torturing their enemies, not to mention the difference of their competency in battle compared to the human Southlanders. Their greatest invasion was during the [[Great War Against Chaos]], where they were used as pawns by Druchii. In recent years, a Norscan fleet led by Erik Redaxe attempted to raid Ulthuan, but was defeated by Tyrion's fleet. Since then, High Elves have grown increasingly better at beating down Norscans, earning their fear.
* Beastmen: There are no Beastmen on Ulthuan, thanks to its magic. This of course, doesn't mean that they can't attack colonies such as the Gates of Calith, whose southern part sits in the [[Chaos Wastes|Southern Chaos Wastes]]. Of note is also [[Malekith|Malekith's]] (when he still was a good lad) and Snorri's war against Beastmen.

'''Skaven''': Of course, like everyone else, they hate each other. '''Un'''like everyone else, Asur don't interact with Skaven that much. The reason why is because Ulthuan as an island is powered by magic, and giant rats can't dig their tunnels there. They're still a pain in the ass for Elven colonists, especially in the Gates of Calith.

'''Greenskins''': Other than viewing them as barbaric savages, they hold a special place in [[Eltharion|Eltharion's]] mind for the destruction of Tor Yvresse. Eltharion, in all his rage, waged his own flavor of WAAAGH against the Greenskins of the Old World, and oh boy is he competent. Eltharion is so successful that he made the Orcs believe that Elves give a propah fight and made Goblins fear them.

'''Undead''' in general very rarely interact with Azur (before [[The End Times|End Times]] that is). Both [[Vampire Counts]] and [[Tomb Kings]] operate mostly in places where Elves doesn't have any influence now ([[The Empire (Warhammer Fantasy)|The Empire]], [[Nehekhara]] etc). Still it's pretty obvious that they are enemies.

'''Ogres''' are the same thing, although it can be inferred at least some of these brutes served as Elven mercenaries.

==Characters==
'''Tyrion:'''
{{Main|Tyrion}}

'''Teclis:'''
{{Main|Teclis}}

'''Alarielle The Radiant:'''
{{Main|Everqueen}}

'''Eltharion The Grim:'''
{{Main|Eltharion}}

'''Finubar:'''
The current Phoenix King. Finubar is the modern day Caradryel, making all those silly "common sense" decisions that need to be made (my, what a fantastic age we live in). He doesn't really stand out much compared to the Phoenix Kings of the past, only being present in battles when shit hits the fan and primarily just keeping the High Elves alive through the most fucked up age since Aenarion's. However, there's no shortage of heroes in his era to make up for his behind the scenes work, even the Everqueen shows up on the battlefield every so often to put the fear of mortals into Chaos. Finubar's CHA is off the charts, even the Dwarf King Thorgrim Grudgbearer has begun to consider trusting the High Elves again thanks to Finubar's politics.

Tyrion was a childhood friend of his, as was Eltharion and Imrik. Korhil and him have a bromance (or possibly gay relationship, who knows) going on beyond the "bodyguard/king" relationship and Korhil regularly advises him on courses of action to take when Tyrion isn't around to point at the enemy and get behind something to avoid catching splatter from the ensuing carnage.

''The current Phoenix King doesn't get a model because Tyrion makes him kinda redundant since he's more on Korhil's level of power, and having the king as a hero choice ain't right. To use him on the tabletop, put one of the elves who comes with the Dragon kit on the legs of a Seamaster or else use a similar custom job that sets him drastically apart from everyone else (hard to beat "biggest helmet" as a means of making him special). Stat him as a Seamaster, Tyrion, or a pimped out Prince. He used to have a griffon, then a dragon, but the canonicity of either is dubious at this stage.''

'''Prince Imrik:'''
Current High Prince of Caledor, rides a dragon named Minaithnir. He knows shit about and from dragons (who were the first created race and know shit even the Titans didn't) since he's good at keeping secrets and knows their languages. Like all Caledorians he's a pompous asshole among pompous assholes, but he's somewhat bro tier aside from that and had the common sense to realize that if Caledorians never get involved in battles, they'll have no battles to brag about and thus has begun sending them to do things they'd never even consider doing on their own like patrols and fighting raiding parties.

Minaithnir is one of the highest ranking (living) dragons, and thus commands authority. Dragons sleep for millennia and to wake them up you've got to sing dragon songs (simply knowing them can incinerate you), all of which detail epic battles that happened or will happen, and singing them for days and weeks without moving for sleep or nourishment. On top of that, the songs drain your body of its life so your soul kind of becomes a warm breeze flowing into their nostrils and earholes. You've gotta just keep singing and hoping that the dragons will hear you in their dream hivemind, AND give a fuck. Imrik does this shit ALL THE FUCKING TIME. The dragons have told Imrik that the final battle for the world is approaching, and that whoever wins there won't be any dragons left when it's over; Imrik is bound and determined to ensure the High Elves are worthy to fight alongside them.

Notable accomplishments include saving Bretonnia and acting like a douche about it and beating the shit out of Malekith while Minaithnir beat the shit out of Malekith's bitch tier dragon.

''Although Imrik has an expensive mini, he's really just a proxy with a model for whatever Prince on Dragon you choose to use him as.''

'''[[Alith Anar]], The Shadow King:'''
After the big civil war and the Dark Elves left Ulthuan for Naggaroth, the remaining nobles elected Alith Anar as the successor to Malekith as leader of Nagarythe. Nagarythe was despised because of its role in the Sundering and anyone else would keep their head down, but Alith Anar immediately went to the Phoenix Court and met Tethlis. The Nagarithian nobles must have been thinking they elected someone with more balls than brains, but Tethlis and Alith Anar got on like a house on fire. Alith's entire family had stayed loyal to Ulthuan and were wiped out by Malekith's forces with Alith Anar as the only survivor. Tethlis declared Alith Anar to be the legit Prince of Nagarythe, and with that approval he went to lead the French Resistance against the Dark Elves. Ever seen Saw? That's the kind of shit he did to every Dark Elf he found, racking up a body count of thousands in a few years personally. As soon as Ulthuan was reclaimed, Alith Anar led the Shadow Warriors straight to Naggaroth where they prowled city streets looking for pedo elves prowling the streets. The only Dark Elves they spared were the infants, who they took home to raise as Nagarythe. It sounds fucked up, but Dark Elves started that practice.

Think this sounds badass so far? How about this: Alith Anar has been doing this ever since and is still alive, and elves don't live that long. Nobody knows how he's doing it. Maybe he swore an oath to Khaine so he wouldn't die until Malekith is dead? Some Shadow Warriors believe he really is dead, and that he just sleeps in his tomb when he's not leading them wordlessly against Dark Elves (Alith Anar is a vampire? FUCK YEAH, VAMPIRE COUNTS FIGHTING IN AN EXTRA RANK!) Who knows. But what we do know is that this one time, Alith Anar disguised himself as a Dark Elf, snuck into a fancy Dark Elf orgy where he danced with Morathi (and probably fucked her), stole the Stone of Midnight, a wedding gift from Aenarion, as well as the offical "High Prince" crown of Nagarythe that Malekith took with him when he left so as to legitimize himself as the Shadow King of Nagarythe. He spent time fucking with Morathi's best assassins and leading them in circles, and finally tricked them into drinking blood in which he'd mixed a very powerful poison. That shit was so badass that Lileath broke her father's biggest law and descended down from the peaks of the Annulii to personally give Alith Anar a bow she made herself (and to smell his hair).

Although Dark Elves like to talk a lot of shit, they won't even say Alith Anar's name out of fear he can hear them and will appear to buttfuck them and eat their souls (these are the same elves who summon Daemonettes to do their hair in the morning). Malekith has a prophesy that he fully believes in that only a Dark Elf male sorcerer will kill him (which is why Dark Elf males aren't allowed to learn magic) but he's STILL afraid of Alith Anar.

''There is only one way to field Alith Anar: like a boss. Use any model of him you like, they're all the same basically and they're all glorious. Sadly none of them look like that pic of him holding a severed head in the book.'' The end times reveals that he is the Same Alith Anar from before the sundering, making him as old as Malekith.

'''Korhil:'''
Korhil is Geralt of Rivia, but a bro-tier guy with axes instead of an anti-social magic guy [[What|with a hyperactive sex life]]. He spends all day killing monsters with his friends and spends all night getting drunk with them. He's the head of the White Lions of Chrace (as much as any one person is in charge anyway), and the personal bodyguard of the Phoenix King, who he gets along with ''very'' well and the Everqueen (the latter service is usually left to her Maiden Guard, but the White Lions serve in both capacities).

Korhil fights anywhere he's needed, seeing him pop up anywhere in the world alongside one of the Order aligned armies isn't too surprising. He's so nice, he even helps the whole unit he's placed in cross forests; "remember kids, always look both ways before crossing a glade. Sometimes lion chariots have trouble seeing you. Always make sure someone over 2000 years old is around when you <strike>play</strike> KILL MONSTERS, and never trust strangers that smell like bacon." He dual wields giant axes, one the size of his body that is magical and glow-ey and he pulls this off without looking weaboo. Overall, no matter what kind of High Elf army you're running you aren't really breaking theme to include Korhil.

''Korhil has had several different models over the years, and all are pretty decent. If you're running a special army that would include a young Korhil, no special mini is needed, just equip a giant axe (not both, one was awarded to him upon becoming head of the White Lions) on any old elf (that doesn't have a lion pelt) and stat him as a White Lion, or a Swordmaster even.''

'''Caradryan:'''
When he was a teenager, there was no bigger asshole to be found anywhere. The perfect bully, he started rumors about men who had grown to old age that destroyed their hard lived lives. He seduced noble ladies, and waved around their panties like trophies in front of their parents. He was the ultimate fratboy dick. Like all noblemen of the elves he took his pilgrimage to the Shrine of Asuryan, and brought his friends along with him. To impress them, he thought it would be a good idea to sneak into the secret hidden chamber of the Shrine called the Chamber of Days where Asuryan's grand plan for the High Elves is (cryptically) laid out. When he came out, he walked right past them without giving them a single high five, stood before the captain of the Phoenix Guard of the time, swore an oath to Asuryan on the spot and hasn't said a word since.

Since then he's spent most of his time in that room, interpreting the words of Asuryan and realizing that not everything is set in stone (rather that many things are self-fulfilling prophesies, some of which can be willingly changed by the Phoenix Guard captains). Some thought that he was preparing to go against the word of Asuryan and commit a grave heresy, until the day that the runic name of Asuryan appeared in fire on his forehead marking him as the closest mortal to his god emperor (take that Gill-man!). One day his previous captain received a vision from Asuryan that Caradryan was to be his next mortal champion, and the Phoenix Blade was passed to him.

Caradryan has lead the Phoenix Guard to the most battles they have ever seen in the current age. Whether this is because of the command of Asuryan, or him filling in the gaps of his god emperor's plans of his own volition is only known to him. Like all Phoenix Guard he knows the exact moment he will die and how and is thus unafraid of anything. What is known only to himself is that Asuryan has blessed him with words of power which he will croak out with his death rattle, words that will change the world forever for the better of the Asur when the time is right. Unfortunately this never comes to pass, as Asuryan dies before Caradyran in the end times. After this, He starts talking all he wants. He eventually becomes the incarnate of fire, and when he is killed his last word is "BURN!" which releases the entire wind of fire into the daemon K'bandha. Which proceeds to do jack shit other than piss the daemon off.

'''Sea Lord Aislinn:'''
As prideful as a non-Caledorian can be, Sea Lord Aislinn was the Prince in command of the naval forces of Lothern when the first non-Norseman pirate found his way to Ulthuan. Otto Steinroth, the Red Pirate of Marienburg, destroyed the city of Sardenath and took captives as slaves to be sold to unmentionable forces (take elf slave, wut do?). Aislinn's forces arrived too late. Although Otto didn't know it as he sailed home, he was surrounded by the entire fleet of Lothern which Aislinn brought to ensure that humans knew what happens when you fuck with the High Elves. As soon as Otto's ship was docked Aislinn invaded the city. The Mages of his fleet sent a deadly mist through the city that blinded the humans, and sent Bolt Thrower bolts into every ship in the harbor other than the pirate ship, destroying each of them. The Lothern Seaguard disembarked and slaughtered the defenders (both confused city guard and pirate alike) to the last, and Aislinn personally lead his guard to kill the pirates onboard their ship. They then casually reclaimed all that was stolen, and called all of the High Elves back to the fleet before any looting could be done. As one last "fuck you" to mankind, Aislinn told his mages to cast Fiery Convocation on the harbor, destroying it to near completion. The remaining contents of the warehouses were found and the city rebuilt by ancestors of the current populace of Marienburg. Aislinn was very lucky that by this point Marienburg had split off from the Empire because otherwise he'd had risked a massive war breaking out to kill a few pirates.

He returned to the court of Lothern having single handedly pissed off every one of the other nobles of the court, cheerfully said good morning to everyone, then about-faced and went back to his ship to set sail for the Frozen Wastes to burn down some Warrior of Chaos villages. By this point, he was the single least popular noble among the High Elves. Finubar however realized this guy reminded him a lot of another dude he knew, except without the giant sword and the queen draping off one shoulder, so he appointed Aislinn to the rank of Sea Lord, the admiral in command of the High Elf navy.

Ten years later, he sent a captain named Ethelis the White to lead a small fleet to head off Norscans who had traveled to Marienburg to destroy it. The Marienburgers promptly forgot about that past bad business, and High Elf merchants returned to the city to trade with the Empire. Sixty years later he was ambushed while on patrol by the Druchii named Lokhir Fellheart, who mortally wounded him and dumped him into the ocean to drown. Mathlann, the High Elf god of the seas, personally rescued him and healed his wounds leaving not even a scar, then sent him to wash up in his homeland of Eataine. A century and a half later Malekith personally invaded Lothern and wiped out the Lothern fleet. Aislinn himself defended his ship against no less than five Dark Elf boarding parties, sending their ships to the bottom of the sea when a giant Kraken swallowed his ship whole. Once again, a year after the battle, he washed back up on shore with no injures and no memory of what had happened. Now believed to be the mortal champion of Mathlann, he leads the rebuilt fleet of the Asur against Druchii, sea monsters, vikings, and anyone else near the sea who pisses him off.

''Sea Lord Aislinn has no model, and no special rules. But if you field a Lothern Seaguard army, he's going to be one of your Lothern Sea Helms.''

'''Princess Eldyra:'''
So once upon a time, Dark Elves retook the Shadowlands for the thousandth fucking time and the powdered wig elves at Finubar's court thought the "defend the homeland" fund was better spent on snuff and petticoats. So Finubar promptly called Tyrion, who responded with an elf WAAAGH to fuck some Druchii. The battle didn't go well, Druchii had bunkered down for the counterattack and most of the High Elf army failed their break test on turn 2 and ran except a guy called Eldyr, who was Tyrion's buddy. Eldyr and his men held firm and allowed everyone to regroup (and Tyrion to climb his way out of a pile of Dark Elf corpses) but Eldyr's chariot was smashed and DE Executioners cut him to pieces. Then Tyrion, having rallied the rest of the army gave it back to the dark elves twice as hard. An assassin was about to kill Tyrion while he was once again buried in bodies but then Everqueen, who had been schlicking behind a tree, shot the coward with an arrow and disappeared again.

Not long after, Eldyr's daughter Eldyra got her first pube and took up daddy's sword. She walked straight to Finubar's court and presented herself as her father's replacement. Finubar wasn't there, either busy with a pile of the Everqueen's used panties or Korhil. The nobility of the court told her she was a snot-nosed pizza-faced teenager who smelled like fish, and she ran from the court crying. Tyrion heard about the event and went to fix things. He swore to her she would be her father's equal, and lead her back to the assembled court (that he hadn't been to in centuries) where he introduced her as his squire. Since nobody wanted to be impaled by Sunfang, they clapped politely.

Years later, after she'd been taught everything of value Tyrion knows like cleaving through hordes of Druchii, motorboating the Everqueen just the way she likes it, and generally getting shit done (put simply, Tyrion was raising the perfect lesbian) she became a general ranked just under Tyrion himself. Around the same time, Prince Sigvald (the champion of Slaanesh) decided that since High Elves have prettier hair than him, they needed to be wiped out (That's not a joke. That is literally his motivation for the attack). Eldyra harrassed Sigvald at every turn, sniped his Chaos Warrior Champions, raided them, poisoned them, routed their horses and used magic to render every settlement in their path invisible. Sigvald wound up having to play Ork and tactically murder his subordinates to keep them from fighting each other, and in the middle of a duel between Sigveld and another chaos champion Eldyra attacked for real. Her armies made Sigvald's flee (Sigvald himself killed his opponent. Then he retreated because the spilled blood reminded him of a bad bottle of Bretonnian wine he had, so he decided to kill the people who made the brand; that's not a joke) <br/> Since then she's made her lord Tyrion proud securing victory after victory over the lesser races. Also, as of the End Times, she is now a Vampire. An ELVEN FUCKING VAMPIRE. Just let that sink in for a little bit. She could only be more awesome if she had tits and was on fire. (Wait a minute...)

''Eldyra is, simply put, another named option for a generic hero in your army. Slap some boobs on it, it's Eldyra. Best used as a Noble if she's still a squire, a Prince if she's proven herself, and in the current era she should be the General of your army. Hell, use her as a stand-in for Tyrion if you like.''

'''Aliathra:'''
The daughter of Phoenix King Finubar and Alarielle the Radiant. One day she is set to take over as Everqueen and preside over the commune in Avelorn while praying to Isha on behalf of the High Elf race and otherwise just inspiring women to forget that prior to Aenarion, they ruled the High Elf race and men took the backseat. Her first major act in the fluff was to head the meet with the Dwarfs to speak of peace on behalf of her parents. Mannfred von Carstein figured she'd make a GREAT Frank Frazetta style sacrifice and manipulated Kemmler and some Orcs into blitzing the Elves and Dwarfs. They slaughtered everyone and carried her off, leading to the Elves and Dwarfs blaming each other and threatening war.

Apparently Alarielle can sense if her daughter is alive or not (which sort of makes sense, since Alarielle's soul will one day inhabit her daughter's body) and told her past and present flings, Finubar and Tyrion, to save her daughter. Finubar went to make peace with the Dwarfs (possibly leading to a plot development in the Dwarfs book when it comes out) while Tyrion gathered an army and went to kill the fuck out of things like he always does. It didn't work, and she was slain as a sacrifice to resurrect [[Nagash]]. However, due to her secretly being Tyrion's bastard child this also leaves Nagash afflicted by the Curse of Aenarion for a time.

''If you want to field the Everqueen in your army but want your list to be a bit more low profile and free for non-Avelorn options, taking a different mini and calling it Aliathra is a great alternative. If you're lucky enough to have the old Everqueen mini that works fine, otherwise greenstuffing some small boobs onto something else works fine too. There's no canon appearance for Aliathra, so anything goes based on how you imagine her to look like.''

==High Elf Forces==

See [[High Elf Army List]] for more details on the forces given below. What is present on this page is a basic overview of the available elf forces.

===Generic Characters===

* '''Princes:''' Princes represent the highest ranking of the nobility of Ulthuan. A right mixed bag, even the badasses like to engage in politics shit, even during warfare.

* '''Archmage:''' A spellcaster of great renown amongst the High Elves, a more powerful version of your average mage. Between their special dispel rules and access to gear and powerful mounts, they can trash your regular empire wizard.

* '''Anointed of Asuryan:''' Not much fluff to go with these guys, other than they're badasses amongst the Phoenix Guard. They are Asuryan's attempt to troll Tzeentch by getting some of his own pawns in the Warhammer world.

* '''[[Loremaster of Hoeth]]:''' While Archmages have specialized in a specific lore, these guys want to learn everything. Basically good at everything, they can chop you up like the Bride from Kill Bill while frying you with magical fires.

* '''Noble:''' Not much to say, they're bluebloods amongst the elves but in your army are probably the bitch to whatever Lord choices you've made, just carrying their flag and looking pretty. They can add some extra pawnage to a unit but then they will just be a great big target to your enemy's mobs.

* '''Mage:''' It's a High Elf spellcaster. Has more magic in his toenails than Empire wizards can even call upon when TRYING to miscast, but on the tabletop he's just a spellcaster. They all study together in a great big tower bigger than the empire state building and the statue of liberty combined.

* '''Dragon Mage of Caledor:''' This pretty much is what it says on the label; it's a freaking mage on a dragon and cheap to boot. A worthy weapon to get around the board edge to hit the enemy in the rear, they can always serve as good distraction carnifexes.

* '''Lothern Seahelm:''' These guys are the commanders of Lothern's forces, and represent everything from the captain of a single ship all the way through the Prince of Eataine (and thus Lothern) himself, Sea Lord Aislinn. A good excuse to fluff yourself as the leader of a motley crew and pretend to be a swash buckling elf captain.

* '''[[Handmaiden of the Everqueen]]:''' The queen's personal bodyguards, when she decides she needs a presence on the battlefield but can't be bothered to leave her throne she sends one of these chicks instead. Don't be fooled though, they are as tough as any elf hero (so not so much lol) and can mince an empire captain easily.

===Core===

* '''[[High Elf Archer|Archers]]:''' All elves of Ulthuan from butlers and maids to farmers and musicians all the way through the highest of the high high society high elves (who are sometimes high) serve in the military in some capacity, and draft cards drop on a dime when Finubar gets the chills. That being said, even if they are crap by elf standards, banks of elf archers are better then most human counterparts and given protection can give off a decent amount of dakka a turn.

* '''Spearmen:''' Mostly archers who have earned the right to be armed with full armor and weapons, or guys with really shitty aim who have finished their time fetching the REAL archers water and more arrows. Manly warriors who march up against any horror, they are expensive grunts but useful as a defence buffer.

* '''[[Lothern Sea-guard|Lothern Seaguard]]:''' Final tier of the red shirt elves, these guys (fluffwise only) are masters with bows, spears, and shields; good at slaughtering pretty much [[Skaven|everything]] (compared to the ALMOST mastery the spearelves and bowelves have apparently). They are the motley crews of the elf ships but not the fun type to swig back pints of grog... sigh, might as well go with Dark Elf Corsairs for fun times...

* '''Silver Helms:''' These fuckers are rich enough to own well bred horses and full armor, and when the call of war came simply organized the boy's club hunt this year to, instead of for foxes and magical flying lions and the other standard Ulthuan game, to be for whatever race is currently the enemy. With screams of 'tally ho' they go hunting whatever takes their fancy and hilarity ensures when they get beaten up by tougher foes.

* '''Ellyrian Reavers:''' While Silver Helms are the preppies of the cavalry, the Ellyrian Reavers are the Boyscouts. They are also more rural and even sleep next to their horses when out in the wilds (how primitive sniffs a nearby silverhelm twat). They are light cavalry that have the brains to try to stay back and pepper the enemy with arrows then charging straight in.

===Special===

* '''White Lions of Chrace:''' The only real MANLY elves in the High Elf list, since they can't be called a White Lion before they track down a white lion and kill it with their bare hands. They then get to wear the pelt of the lion and be the bodyguard to the Phoenix King himself. With their big fuck off axes, they chop you up like the wood back home. The pelts always offer extra protections against arrow fire, go figure!

* '''Lion Chariot of Chrace:''' Sometimes White Lions of Chrace find cubs who's mother they killed. Instead of letting them go back to the wilderness, they spay/neuter them and hitch them up to chariots. This is so they can ride mother fucking big lions into battle like some elf version of he-man and say F U to the enemy as they flee in terror.

* '''[[Swordmasters of Hoeth]]:''' Intensely trained warriors wielding great swords, they are slightly lesser in strength than the White Lions and lack the fabulous pelts, but they are faster and more skilled. They can cut candle wicks without snuffing the flames out for gods sake. Eager to find the best warriors in the enemy army to challenge, they are held back by the usual elf disadvantages of low toughness and armour.

* '''Shadow Warriors:''' While the civil war of the High Elves/Dark Elves was brutal, the Nagarythe who stayed loyal to the Asur suffered the most. They became completely emo and obsessed with revenge and then spend all their time trying to fuck up the dark elves shit as much as possible. The drawn back is they are barely better then the enemies they fight and may be tainted beyond help.

* '''Phoenix Guard:''' The complete badassess of the elf forces, they know when they are going to die due to their god's special magic chamber but march into battle regardless, ready to give their lives for hope. This makes them a strange mix of heroes and pricks though, as they battle everything and everyone but they knew about Malekith's treachery and didn't know anything to stop it happening. Yes they magically can't speak but still one would think they would have gathered up and tore him a new asshole.

* '''Dragon Princes of Caledor:''' Greater dicks than the silver helms, they have an arrogance in a class of their own and won't really take orders from anyone else then their own, more 'suggestions'. They use to ride dragons, hence their arrogance and given half a chance they would do it again....and may do so in the future.

* '''Lothern Skycytter:''' Since Lothern forces are the "elf marines" they needed a chariot that can fight on both land and water, so at some unknown point in the fluff they used magical boat-shaped chariot wagons and make a roc (not a Giant Eagle, although there's absolutely no creativity on GW's part in the model to distinguish the two) pull one in the air. Zipping through the air, they blow raspberries at those beneath them until they get in the sights of the nearest dragon.....

* '''Tiranoc Chariot:''' Elf chariots, they are the traditional affair pulled into battle by horses. They are more zippy than the lion chariots above and more focused on supporting other units than smashing in by themselves.

===Rare===

* '''Eagle Claw Bolt Thrower:''' The only warmachine High Elves use, both in fluff and on tabletop. It's extremely accurate, each one is probably worth more than is contained within a city of [[The Empire (Warhammer Fantasy)|The Empire]]. You can have two and most high elf armies worth their salt field a couple of these.

* '''Great Eagles:''' "So why didn't they send an army of Great Eagles to kill the Dark Elves?" The answer is because Great Eagles aren't troops you summon from the barracks and send on patrol (And also Rare choices and you are limited to using at most 25% of your army as rare). They're very intelligent, and very proud. This does mean that such a quality idea would never work and it is all the great eagles fault....

* '''Flamespyre Phoenix:''' Wanting to add a bit more of the mystical element to the High Elves and give them a cool new unit, they went and added phoenixes as rare choices, which is just complete quality. The flamespyre phoenix is a phoenix in it's prime, having a great amount of intense fire to BURN your enemies with.

* '''Frostheart Phoenix:''' The older phoenixes, they absorb heat not generate it and indeed make it snow and freeze. Essentially then a snow version phoenix, they are pretty cool (pun!) but don't have the rebirth ability their younger kin do.

* '''[[Sisters of Avelorn]]:''' Bodyguards to the Everqueen, they are chosen from all walks of elf life and it is a big honour to join their ranks. They are great archers, some of the best and fire magic arrows that are particularly burny to chaos things. They were in the older editions and since then have had a massive retooling to update them to modern times.

==Religion==

See [[Warhammer Fantasy Gods|Warhammer Fantasy Elf Gods]] for a more detailed list.

The High Elves have a large number of Gods and Goddesses, which are divided into two seperate pantheons, the Cadai (gods representing their good sides) and the Cytharai (gods representing their dark sides). GW in the most recent versions have decided to apply a yin and yang motif to the Elf races, in accordance with them being in High (Good), Dark (...Dark), and Wood (Buddhist) flavours. Generally the High Elves celebrate and honour the Cadai and attempt to please and appease the Cytharai.

The gods are divided into their seperate pantheons below:

Cadai:

* '''[[Asuryan|Asuryan, the Creator]]'''

* '''[[Vaul|Vaul, the Maker]]'''

* '''[[Isha|Isha, the Mother]]'''

* '''[[Kurnous|Kurnous, the Hunter]]'''

* '''[[Hoeth|Hoeth, Lord of Wisdom]]'''

* '''[[Lileath|Lileath, the Maiden]]'''

* '''[[Loec|Loec, the Shadow Dancer]]'''

* '''[[Mathlann|Mathlann, Lord of the Deeps]]'''

Cytharai:

* '''[[Khaine|Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God]]'''

* '''[[Ereth Khial|Ereth Khial, the Pale Queen]]'''

* '''[[Nethu|Nethu, Keeper of the Last Door]]'''

* '''[[Anath Raema|Anath Raema, the Savage Huntress]]'''

* '''[[Morai-Heg|Morai-Heg, the Crone]]'''

* '''[[Hekarti|Hekarti, Mistress of Magic]]'''

* '''[[Atharti|Atharti, Lady of Desire]]'''

* '''[[Ladrielle|Ladrielle, Lady of Mists]]'''

* '''[[Estreuth|Estreuth, Lord of Hunger]]'''

* '''[[Addaioth|Addaioth, Bringer of Fire]]'''

* '''[[Eldrazor|Eldrazor, Lord of Blades]]'''

* '''[[Ellinill|Ellinill, Lord of Destruction]]'''

* '''[[Hukon|Hukon, the Sunderer]]'''

* '''[[Drakira|Drakira, Queen of Vengeance]]'''

==Misc Fluff==
High Elves believe in the concept of duality in all things. Their language is built so that every happy word is also sad, every angry word is also friendly, and so on. Makes learning the language a bitch, makes subtleties of speech a lifetime study, and makes it so anyone can misinterpret what you're saying entirely based on their mood. Although in the past they only had a queen, current elves can't accept the idea of a single leader; disagreements are almost encouraged and dissenting opinions welcomed. This means that their political system is a non-fucked up version of the fucked up politics in the real world.

Dark Elves usually disregard this aspect of elven culture (Only the Druchii deal in absolutes!) except the smarter ones, who generally think of things in terms of "having fun and alive" and "not having fun and dead". Wood Elves complicate it even further than High Elves, with there being a billion different fucking things to learn about every single word and all their aspects based on the time of day. (Good morning on a Monday is a marriage proposal, good morning on Tuesday is a declaration of war, and they'll say it both days knowing full well just because they're crazy like that).

The way high elves keep Chaos from destroying the world is by taking the warp energy (AKA magic) that is attracted to Ulthuan and shooting it back into the warp. (A world that has achieved magic homeostasis apparently can't manifest Daemons). They accomplish this via waystones, which are white monoliths with inset gems and elf writing of varying sizes from small mountains through to mantelpiece decoration. These channel the winds of magic through specific points like bodies of water all the way through the world into the Annulii and further into the center of Ulthuan. Slann used their magic to help the elves from afar erect them in the first place, but the only one who knows that is Teclis and mages loyal to him since everyone else screams HERESY when he brings it up. Elves protect the waystones at all costs; they've gone to full-scale war to prevent Wood Elves from carving their names into them, they've saved all of Bretonnia from Daemons just to protect one, (they didn't tell the mon'keigh that of course), and they've established dealings with Tomb Kings in order to erect more in order for each to be less important.

But, you know, peace is never an option. Orcs see them as an insult to statues of Gork and Mork (or Mork and Gork?) and smash them every chance they get, humans think the jewels are spiffy and otherswise move them around because a giant floating elf rock in the town square really brings in the tourists, Tomb Kings remake them as statues of themselves and the forces of Chaos and Evil usually play with them as magic-enhancing tools like altars or the Dark Elves mess with them to troll the High Elves.

==Crunch==
Alright, this is the fun part. High Elves get some very nice special rules. Almost all High Elf options have the Always Strikes First rule. <strike>What's even better, is that this isn't modified by the weapon speed so a High Elf with a Great Weapon STILL Always Strikes First (all you lesser races go after we've had our turns)</strike> (sadly no longer true in 8th edition).

Then, they also have "Valour of Ages" which means whenever they go against Dark Elves, they may reroll any failed psychology test, which is awesome.

Many High Elf troops have the new rule "Martial Prowess" which allows models that have that rule to fight or shoot in one extra rank, which is cumulative with any other rule that lets them shoot in extra ranks (long story short, fuck you we're better and we're gonna stab and or shoot you until you believe it).

Spellcasters get a rule called "Lileath's Blessing" which adds a +1 to casting attempts from the Lore of High Magic, the High Elf specific lore.

Also, it used to be the case that you needed less core units and could take more rare and special units. This is no longer the case since the arrival of 8th edition, but errata from GWs website says you can have as many multiple units as you like (other armies are now limited to two identical special or rare units in games of less than 3000 points). High Elf horses can get the "Ithilmar Barding" option, which increases armor like regular barding but doesn't affect movement speed. Finally, if you wanted Flame Attacks you've got them in spades.

==See Also==
* [[Warhammer/Tactics/8th Edition/High Elves|8th edition Tactics]]
* [[Warhammer/Tactics/6th Edition/High Elves|6th edition Tactics]]
* [[High Elf Army List]]
* [[High Elf Domain Creation Tables]]

==External Links==
*[http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/ Ulthuan.net, the main High Elves army forum.]

==References==
*Warhammer Armies: High Elves; Adam Troke, Rick Priestly, Bill King; Games Workshop; 2007; ISBN - 978-1-84154-846-3

{{Playable Factions in Warhammer Fantasy Battle}}

[[Category:Warhammer Fantasy]]
[[Category:High Elves]]
{{Template:High Elves}}

Template:Wood Elf Forces

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<center>
{|class="mw-collapsible mw-collapsed table" border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 style="margin: 1em; border: 2px solid black;"
|-
!align=center colspan=4 bgcolor="#60B703" | <span style="color:cyan">Forces of the [[Wood_Elves_(Warhammer_Fantasy)|Wood Elves]]</span>
|-
| align=right|'''Elf Leaders:''' || [[Glade Lord]] - [[Spellsinger]] - [[Spellweaver]] - [[Waystalkers]]
|-
| align=right|'''Forest Leaders:''' || [[Treeman Ancient]] - [[Branchwraith]]
|-
| align=right|'''Elves''' || [[Glade Guard ]] - [[Glade Riders]] - [[Eternal Guard]] - [[Shadowdancers]] - [[Sisters of the Thorn]] - [[Waywatchers]] - [[Wild Riders]] - [[Warhawk Rider]] - [[Wardancers]] - [[Wildwood Rangers]]
|-
| align=right|'''Forest Spirits:''' || [[Dryad#Warhammer_Fantasy|Dryads]] - [[Tree Kin]] - [[Treeman]]
|-
| align=right|'''Fauna:''' || [[Great Eagle]] - [[Forest Dragons]] - [[Zoats]] - [[Bear Lore|Bears]] - [[Warhawk Rider|Warhawks]] - [[Unicorn#Warhammer_Fantasy|Unicorns]]
|-
| align=right|'''Auxiliaries:''' || [[High Elves (Warhammer Fantasy)|High Elves]] - [[Dark Elves]] - [[Bretonnia]]
|}
</center>
[[Category:Warhammer Fantasy]][[Category:Elves]][[Category:Wood Elves]]

Great Eagle

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{{whfb-stub}}{{NeedsImages}}

{{Template:Wood Elf Forces}}
{{Template:High Elf Troops}}
[[Category:Wood Elves]][[Category:High Elves]]
[[Category:Warhammer Fantasy]]

Maximum Fuck

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{{Wh40k-stub}}
Maximum Fuck is a battle-barge of the [[Angry Marines]].
[[Category:Angry Codices]]

Fire and Fury

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{{awesome}}

This is an expansion of the [[Codex - Tyranids: /tg/'s 9th Edition]] and the [[Codex - Angry Marines: /tg/'s 9th Edition]], about the conflict between flaming Nidhoggr Hive Fleet and the angry crew of the Suicidal Insanity.

=Angry Marines' Suicidal Insanity Crew=
==Lore==
When a space marine company is created, it is generally done so with much forethought. Is the establishment of a new company necessary? Where will the marines and their geneseed to man it come from? Where will the equipment, bolters, power armour and chain blades, come from? Such a process can take decades just to come to fruitition, whereupon a man, nay, a god, must be found to elevate to the position of company captain, a being with such skill in the art of war and management that a force led by them could surely never fail.

If however, you were to speak to Chief Mindfucker Moarfistin about the importance of prudence, prior planning and management he would reach for his dictionary, remember that he doesn’t have a dictionary to beat you over the head with, and then simply kick you in the balls.

==Rules==
All the rules in this section are meant to be used alongside the [[Codex - Angry Marines 8th Edition]].

===Stratagems===
'''Nom Nom Nom... ALWAYS ANGRY!!! (1CP):'''
::Use this Stratagem after an {{W40kKeyword|ANGRY MARINE}} {{W40kKeyword|INFANTRY}} unit is destroyed in close combat by a {{W40kKeyword|TYRANID}} unit, that unit gets the ''ALWAYS ANGRY!'' rule for the rest of the battle.

'''MAXIMIUM FUCKING FLAMES (2CP):'''
::Use this Stratagem when a {{W40kKeyword|BLACK BROTHER}} unit is about to fire its weapons. That unit may roll an additional dice for each weapon it possesses which automatically hits its target when determining the number of shots in that shooting phase. At the end of that Shooting phase, roll a D6 for each model affected by this stratagem, on each 5+ that unit suffers a mortal wound.

'''Longer Flamer Barrels (2CP):'''
::Use this Stratagem before the battle begins. Select a unit which is armed entirely with weapons that automatically hit their target. For the duration of the battle, that unit may add 4” to all their weapons which automatically hit their target.

'''Violent Reactor Vent (2CP):'''
::Use this Stratagem at the beginning of the fight phase. Select a {{W40kKeyword|BLACK BROTHER}} {{W40kKeyword|KNIGHT}}, it loses all of its melee weapon profiles for the duration of that fight phase but choose one of these effects:
::-All other units within D6” suffer D6 mortal wounds.
::-A single unit within 6” suffers 3D3 mortal wounds.
::However, you must subtract 4” from this units movement characteristic until your next turn.

'''Intimate Burning (1CP):'''
::Use this Stratagem at the beginning of any turn. Select an {{W40kKeyword|ANGRY MARINE}} unit. Until the end of the turn that units weapons which automatically hit their target become Pistol X (eg. Assault D6 would become Pistol D6).

===Warlord Trait===
*'''THE BIGGER THEY FUCKING ARE!!!:'''
::Add 1 to the attack characteristic of your Warlord for every 2 maximum wounds (to a maximum of 5 extra attacks) that the enemy model they are engaged in melee with has more than him.

===Wargears===
=====Melee Weapons=====
*'''A Maw and Jaws you don’t want anywhere near your squish parts'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''A Maw and Jaws you don’t want anywhere near your squish parts''' || Melee || Melee || User || -3 || 1 || For every hit roll of 5+ made by this weapon do not roll to wound, it automatically deals one mortal wound instead of the normal damage.
|}

*'''Burning bag of Codex Astates'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Burning bag of Codex Astates''' || Melee || Melee || +1 || -2 || D3 || When attacking with this weapon, you must subtract 1 from the hit roll. In addition to this, each hit with this weapon counts as 3 hits instead of 1. In a turn where the bearer of this weapon charged you may make an additional attack with this weapon in the following fight phase.
|}

*'''Damaged Power Fist'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Damaged Power Fist''' || Melee || Melee || x2 || -2 || D3 || When attacking with this weapon, you must subtract 1 from the hit roll.
|}

*'''Flaming Chain Flail'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Flaming Chain Flail''' || Melee || Melee || +1 || -2 || 1 || Each hit with this weapon counts as 2 hits instead of 1. In a turn where the bearer of this weapon charged you may make an additional attack with this weapon in the following fight phase.
|}

*'''“Improvised” Weapon'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''“Improvised” Weapon''' || Melee || Melee || x3 || -3 || D6 || This weapon treats damage rolls of 1 and 2 as dealing 3 damage. When attacking with this weapon, you must subtract 1 from the hit roll, but each hit with this weapon counts as two hits.
|}

*'''The “Sneaky” Knife'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''The “Sneaky” Knife''' || Melee || Melee || User || -3 || 1 || Wound rolls of 6+ with this weapon deal a mortal wound in addition to normal damage.
|}

=====Shooting Weapons=====
*'''Combi-Combi-Combi-Combi-Combi Flamer:'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Combi-Combi-Combi-Combi-Combi Flamer''' || Assault 5D6 || 8” || 4 || -1 || 1 || This weapon automatically hits its target.
|}

*'''Mega Flamer of Wrath:'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Mega Flamer of Wrath''' || - || - || - || - || - || When firing this weapon, choose one of the following profiles before firing.
|-
|'''PUSSY MODE!!!''' || 18” || Heavy 2D6 || 5 || -1 || 1 || This weapon automatically hits its target.
|-
|'''FUCK SAFETY MEASURES!!!''' || 18” || Macro D6 || 9 || -4 || D6 || This weapon automatically hits its target. Roll a D6 for each hit made by this weapon. For each roll of 1 the bearer suffers D3-1 mortal wounds and the targeted unit suffers an additional hit with the weapon's profile.
|}

*'''Molotov Cocktails:'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Molotov Cocktails''' || Grenade 2 || 8” || 3 || 0 || 1 || Each successful hit roll with this weapon causes D3 hits rather than 1; if the target is a Swarm unit or contains 6 or more models, each successful hit roll with this weapon causes D6 hits rather than 1 or D3 .
|}

*'''The “Mistake” Remover:'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''The “Mistake” Remover''' || Assault 2D6 || 8” || 5 || -1 || 1 || This weapon automatically hits its target.
|}

=====ArteFUCKt=====
*'''Adaptive Rage:''' ''Never say that angry marines are incapable of learning from their enemies (because they’ll stove your heads in for disagreeing with them), as angry marines who have fought the Tyranids have noticed that their foes would adapt to the tactics of whoever they were fighting. Unfortunately for the Tyranids, the only real adaptations they could make were to grow longer legs and run in the other direction or develop camouflage skin to hide so that they wouldn't get their new, longer legs ripped off. To try and emulate this the angry tech marines took an analaytics servitor, stripped it down to just its brain and associated casing and strapped it to a marine helmet. During the battle, the servitor brain then feeds real-time tactical data to its wearer in the form of “FUCKING TELLING THE CUNT I’M RIDING ON THAT THE SHIT HEAD OVER THERE IS FUCKING CHOPPY SO YOU SHOULD BE EVEN FUCKING CHOPPIER YOU TWAT!!!”''
::The bearer of this relic has the faction specific rules of whatever enemy it is facing (this stacks if there are multiple different enemy factions). In addition to this, if the bearer of this relic also slays the enemy warlord then they gain that warlords warlord trait as well.

=====Wargear=====
*'''A Pack of Cold Refreshments:''' ''A cold, refreshing drink can be all an angry marine needs to brush off the flames of a titan inferno gun.''
::A unit with this wargear adds 1 to its armour save throws against weapons which automatically hit their target and weapons which roll 2 dice and discard the lowest dice when determining damage when the bearer is firing at half the weapons range.

*'''Flaming Sidecar:''' ''Some Black Brothers think that their bikes, despite being made of mostly flame, don’t have enough flames on them. However, as their bikes already have the highest possible density of flamers per square inch outside of a weapon cache, there is no way to add any more guns to the bike. Some circumvent this issue with the laws of physics by simply adding more bike, or more specifically, a sidecar. This sidecar is then loaded to the brim with fuel tanks, flamers, Molotov cocktails, and sometimes is outfitted with a Mega Flamer of Wrath, for those Black Brothers who prefer one massive flamer instead of too many smaller ones.''
::A model with this wargear subtracts 4” from its movement range, but gains 2 additional wounds and 4 additional flamers.

===Crew of the Sucidal Insanity===
====HQ====
=====Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt=====
[[File:Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt art.jpeg|thumb|left|'' WE’RE TOTALLY NOT FUCKING GAY!!! WE JUST HATE EACH OTHERS FUCKING GUTS, SHARE A SHIT-TINY ROOM AND HAVE A PET THAT NEITHER OF US FUCKING WANTED BUT WE THOUGHT IT WOULD SAVE OUR RELATI (COUGH!!!) CAPTAINCY!!!'']]
<div class="toccolours mw-collapsible mw-collapsed" style="width:800px">
'''Fluff:'''
<div class="mw-collapsible-content">
A company should only really have one captain, especially in the case of angry marines as it is a scientific fact that if you put a group of angry marines into a room together (or just two angry marines, or even a single bored marine) and ask them to come up with a plan of action, that plan of action will quickly degrade into “PUNCH THE OTHER ANGRY FUCKING IN THE CUNT!!!” However, the canteen brawl which was supposed to decide the leader of the “WHY DO WE HAVE TO FOLLOW THOSE CUNTS?!!!” company and their ship The Suicidal Insanity resulted in Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt knocking each other out simultaneously via violent kicks to the bollocks, and so the two of them were made captain. Not two separate captains mind you, there was only one position available, and instead of simply making two such captaincies available would have been too level headed and logical, and so now Dick and Cunt are both, technically, the same captain. And so now they are stuck for all eternity/until one or both of them die, to spend all their time in each other’s company like a married couple in the bitterest of relationships.

This unlikely pairing is always followed by Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger, named so because they (nobody is stupid enough to try and check its gender) are not fussy on who’s genitals it bites off. It is not known where Equal Opportunity came from, as the large numbers of honey badgers which could normally found in the vicinity of angry marines had to be removed (to make the faction a little bit more sensible from a story perspective), but as honey badgers do turn up from time to time (such as hiding in underwear draws, in toilets or as their mutant honey badger form) most people assume that Equal Opportunity is simply a honey badger that survived the editorial cuts.

Another theory (proposed by psykers who get too near the creature) is that Equal Opportunity is actually a warp familiar, spawned by the hatred between Dick and Cunt. The psykers think this because whenever Equal Opportunity looks at them they get the psychic equivalent of having their genitals chewed off.</div>
</div>

This unit contains 1 Tweedle Dick, 1 Tweedle Cunt and 1 Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger ('''Power Level X'''). Only one of this unit may be included in your army. If this unit is your warlord then the whole unit is treated as being your warlord.
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| '''Tweedle Dick''' || 6" || 2+ || 2+ || 5 || 4 || 5 || 3 || 8 || 3+
|-
| '''Tweedle Cunt''' || 6" || 2+ || 4+ || 6 || 4 || 5 || 4 || 8 || 3+
|-
| '''Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger''' || 6" || 2+ || - || 4 || 4 || 2 || 6 || 8 || 5+
|}
'''Wargear'''
*A Maw and Jaws you don’t want anywhere near your squish parts (Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger only)
*Three Storm Bolters (Tweedle Dick only)
*The “Sneaky” Knife (Tweedle Dick only)
*Two Broken Power Fists (Tweedle Cunt only)
*Frag Grenade (Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt only)

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''ALWAYS ANGRY!!!'''
*'''Dual Melee Weapons'''
*'''GET THE FUCK OFF MY LEG!!!:''' Sometimes, running around with two power fists is not enough for Tweedle Cunt to beat the shit out of his enemies, so he will enlist (unwillingly) Tweedle Dick to act as a larger and angrier melee weapons.
**At the beginning of each fight phase, you may decide whether Tweedle Cunt will pick up Tweedle Dick and use him as an improvised weapon. If so Tweedle Dick suffers D2 mortal wounds and may not fight for the duration of the fight phase. However, Tweedle Cunt counts as being equipped with an ''“Improvised” Weapon'' for the duration of the fight phase, but counts as not being equipped with his two broken power fists for the duration of the fight phase.
*'''YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!:''' “HOW DOD YOU FUCKING MISS THAT SHOT YOU FUCKING CUBT?!!!” (THUMP)
**Whenever Tweedle Dick or Tweedle Cunt fail a hit roll at any time they immediately suffer a strength 4 ap0 D1 hit which is resolved immediately for each failed hit.
*'''Feel no pain:''' ITS FUCKING DIFFICULT TO TAKE A BOLT SHELL TO THE FUCKING HEAD SERIOUSLY WHEN YOUR GOT THE CUNT BADGER BITING YOUR BALLS!!!
**As long as Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger is alive, all models in this unit ignore damage taken on a 5+ on a D6, except for Equal Opportunity, who ignores damage received on a 4+.
*'''Otherworldly Badger:''' Whether Equal Opportunity is real, or a warp spawn, it’s effect on nearby psykers is undeniably effective.
**As long as Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger is alive, this unit has a 6+ invulnerability save and may deny one psychic power a turn, and may add 1 to its deny rolls.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction: {{W40kKeyword|Angry Marine}}, {{W40kKeyword|Imperium}}
*{{W40kKeyword|HQ}}, {{W40kKeyword|Character}}, {{W40kKeyword|Infantry}}, {{W40kKeyword|Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt}}, {{W40kKeyword|DEMON)}} (Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger only)

=====Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!”=====
[[File:Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” Art.jpeg|thumb|left|'' I’M FUCKING SANTA IF SANTA GAVE YOU TAX REFUND INVOICES WHICH WERE ON FIRE!!! HO HO HO MOTHERFUCKERS!!!'']]
While Tweedle Dick and Cunt are constantly fighting or trying to Prize Equal opportunity off their balls, Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” is actually the one who runs the Suicidal Insanity, but if you’d asked anyone 50 years ago what the young (as he was known then) Joshua Biggins would do once he was filling trained, nobody would have said “second in command of an army of yellow psychopaths”. From the age of eight Joshua had been brought up as an orphan by the Adeptus Ministrorum and had shown great promise as a clerk and general organiser, with the potential of becoming middle management (effectively as comfortable as an orphan in the Imperium is ever likely to get).

However, on one fateful day at the ripe old age of 14 (ancient by marine recruit standards) Joshua was transferred to the part of the Administratum that worked with the Ultramarines, who ground him down over the course of 6 months with their “Courage and honour” and their constant babbling about the “Codex Astartes” until some poor serf said “may our spiritual liege guide you” one too many times. Nobody knows what it was that had put Joshua on edge before the serf said those words, but when the next shift arrived to relieve the clerk of his duties they found the poor ultramarine serf with his head stuck up his own arse.

After this Joshua went feral for a while, living in the ducts of ships, surviving by licking dew of the walls and burning anything ultramarine related he could find, until one day the ship he happened to sneak into was the battle barge Considerable Shouting, where he was found basking in front of a blazing fire created by burning the battle barges entire supply of Codex Astartes (used by the Fiery Aggressors in their promethium mixtures) screaming “BURN YOU STUCK UP CUNTS!!! BURN!!!” After this Joshua was quickly inducted, rose to the rank of black brother Sargent and moved over to the suicidal insanity, who’s captain Dweedle Dick and Cunt made him their second in command, partly because he is an excellent administrator, but mostly because if he finds an accounting error he will go on a burning spree through the accounts department.

Sometimes, Boring Shite will combine his two jobs of administrator and burny bastard on the battlefield, by riding into battle on his Mobile Accounts Department, an extra large black brother bike which holds extra large fuels tanks, extra flamers, flameproof filing systems and a servitor in the side car who pulls double duty as data processor and gunner. All of this colossal weight is too much even for a beefed up astartes bike, so the whole flaming mess is pulled along by a team of five normal black brother bikers, all of whom are extraordinarily pissed off that they’re stuck towing the bastard around.On such a behemoth of burning belligerence little can stand in the way of boring shite, as he continuously swaps from burning his foes alive, to running calculations on why the enemy he just roasted where a bunch of idiots.

This unit contains 1 Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” ('''Power Level 5'''). Only one of this unit may be included in your army.
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| '''Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!”''' || 6" || 2+ || 4+ || 5 || 4 || 5 || 3 || 8 || 3+
|-
| '''Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department''' || 10" || 2+ || 4+ || 5 || 6 || 9 || 3 || 8 || 2+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
*Burning Bag of Codex Astartes
*Molotov Cocktails
*The “Mistake” Remover
*20 Flamers (Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only)
*Mega Flamer of Wrath (Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only)
*Flaming Chain Flail (Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only)

'''Abilities:'''
*'''Always Angry'''
*'''Dual Melee Weapons'''
*'''Burning Weapons:''' If an enemy model suffers any unsaved wounds from any weapons this unit has but is not slain; at the end of the Phase, roll a D6; on a 6, the target suffers a mortal wound.
*'''Flames of Wrath:''' Your opponent must subtract 1 from all hit rolls that target this unit. In addition, all hit rolls made of 6 that target this unit will always hit (regardless of modifiers).
*'''Pyromaniac Brothers:''' If this unit is within 3" of any friendly '''Fiery Aggressor''' unit that contains 3 or more models; this unit receive the benefits of cover, even if they are not in cover.
*'''I’M IN CHARGE AROUND HERE:''' Few are stupid enough to argue against an angry accountant when he has the numbers to back up the fact that your a fucking idiot.
**ANGRY MARINE units within 6” of this model may re-roll failed hit rolls of 1. In addition to this, if your army is battle forged then you gain 1 command point.
*Shield of Flames: The Sargent doesn’t carry around an iron halo or any kind of storm shield. Instead the flames around him burn so hot that bullets have a nasty habit of either deforming before they hit him (depriving them of their armour piercing potential) or become too scared to hit him, instead flying off at oblique angles.
**A model with this rule has a 4+ invulnerability save.
*'''BURN YOU PITIFUL BITCHES!!!:''' Boring Shite has an innate and numerical understanding of fire, and will happily assist others in being more burny if it increases the overall levels of “FUCKING FIRE EVERYWHERE!!!”
**Weapons which automatically hit their target wielded by friendly units within 6” of Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!! may roll twice the number of dice when determining the number of hits and discard the lowest half of dice.
*'''MAXIMIUM POWER!!!:''' RAGE CAPACITORS TO MAXIMUM!!! MOLTEN CARBERATOR TO OVERDRIVE!!! SPINNY DIALS TO FUCKING ELEVEN!!! TO INFINITY AMD BEYOND MOTHER FUCKERS!!!
**(Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only) At the beginning of your movement phase you may decide to have this unit deactivate all their bikes safety measures and put their pedals so hard to the floor that “pedal to the metal” doesn’t cover it. If so roll a D6 for each model in the unit, on a 4+ the unit suffers a mortal wound, but the unit gains the FLY keyword, increases their movement distance to 28” and enemy units firing at it until your next movement phase suffer -1 to their hit rolls.
*'''FUCK THIS THING'S BIG!!!:''' THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!
**(Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only) A model with this rule and a Mega Flamer if Wrath may only fire its Mega Flamer of Wrath’s FUCK SAFETY MEASURES!!! mode if it also activated its MAXIMUM POWER!!! ability in the same turn. If so it may fire the weapons FUCK SAFETY MEASURES!!! mode despite not having the TITANIC keyword and having moved.
*Belligerent Tow Crew: Don’t forget about the group of Black Brothers who tow the Sargent around. If you do it might be one of them who kills you instead.
**(Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only) A unit with this rule may make 10 additional attacks with their chain flail weapon profile each fight phase, but at a minus 1 to hit.

'''Options:'''
*May be upgraded to Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department - 250 pts./10 PP.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction: {{W40kKeyword|Angry Marine}}, {{W40kKeyword|Imperium}}
*{{W40kKeyword|HQ}}, {{W40kKeyword|Character}}, {{W40kKeyword|Infantry}} (Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” Only), {{W40kKeyword|Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!”}}, {{W40kKeyword|Black Brother}}, {{W40kKeyword|Biker}} (Sargent “IN CHARGE OF BORING SHITE!!!” On Mobile Accounts Department Only)

====Fast Attack====
=====Black Brother Bike Squad=====
The pinacle of a black brothers burning potential, the black brother bike is the orgy child between every flamer imaginable and an early space age rocket, in that it more resembles a fireball on wheels. Such a bike represents centuries, if not millennia, of tireless scavenging and construction work by a black brother, as such vehicles are not handed down or stored in an armoury. No no no. That would be tantamount to [[heresy]] in the eyes of a black brother, who see their bikes not as a weapon of war or a vehicle (although they excell at both tasks), but as a physical manifestation of their rage and devotion to flames. This means that a black brother biker is not simply an elite soldier, they are a warrior who has survived centuries of constant war, riding into battle on a vehicle of destruction capable of turning the ground it travels over into molten slag.

Such individuals are held in high regard by other angry marines for the sheer amount of rage they possess and the devotion that they have needed to put into building their bikes. Such individuals are held in such high regard that no angry marine (up to and including the chapter master) would ever touch a black brothers bike without express permission or to save it from certain doom (and even then they would need power fists to not burn themselves on the white hot chassis).

This unit contains 3 Black Brother Bikers (Power Rating 8). It can include up to 3 additional Black Brother Bikers (Power Rating 3 each).
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Black Brother Biker || 14" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 5 || 2 || 1 || 8 || 3+
|-
|}

'''Wargear:'''
*Each Black Brother Biker is armed with:
::-6 Flamers
::-Flaming Chain Flail
::-Molotov Cocktails

'''Abilities:'''
*'''And They Shall Know No Fear'''
*'''ALWAYS ANGRY'''
*'''Dual Melee Weapons'''
*'''Burning Weapons:''' If an enemy model suffers any unsaved wounds from any weapons this unit has but is not slain; at the end of the Phase, roll a D6; on a 6, the target suffers a mortal wound.
*'''Flames of Wrath:''' Due to wielding flamers and being covered in flames themselves the Black Brothers are always followed by a large cloud of black smoke. While this makes them easy to track, hitting the individual Brothers is a difficult task made more difficult the more Brothers are part of a squad.
*Your opponent must subtract 1 from all hit rolls that target this unit; as long as a Black Brothers unit contains at least 5 models, your opponent must subtract 2 from all hit rolls made by ranged weapons that target this unit, instead of 1. In addition, all hit rolls made of 6 that target this unit will always hit (regardless of modifiers).
*'''Pyromaniac Brothers:''' if this unit is within 3" of any friendly '''Fiery Aggressor''' unit that contains 3 or more models; this unit receive the benefits of cover, even if they are not in cover.
*'''MAXIMUM POWER!!!:''' RAGE CAPACITORS TO MAXIMUM!!! MOLTEN CARBERATOR TO OVERDRIVE!!! SPINNY DIALS TO FUCKING ELEVEN!!! TO INFINITY AMD BEYOND MOTHER FUCKERS!!!
**At the beginning of your movement phase you may decide to have this unit deactivate all their bikes safety measures and put their pedals so hard to the floor that “pedal to the metal” doesn’t cover it. If so roll a D6 for each model in the unit, on a 4+ the unit suffers a mortal wound, but the unit gains the FLY keyword, increases their movement distance to 28” and enemy units firing at it until your next movement phase suffer -1 to their hit rolls.
*'''FUCK THIS THING'S BIG!!!:''' THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!
**A model with this rule and a Mega Flamer if Wrath may only fire its Mega Flamer of Wrath’s FUCK SAFETY MEASURES!!! mode if it also activated its MAXIMUM POWER!!! ability in the same turn. If so it may fire the weapons FUCK SAFETY MEASURES!!! mode despite not having the TITANIC keyword and having moved.

'''Options:'''
*Any model in the unit may add a Flaming Sidecar - 20 pts.
*Any model in the unit may replace 6 of its flamers and Molotov Cocktails for a Mega Flamer of Wrath, but only if it has a Flaming Sidecar - 40 pts.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction: {{W40kKeyword|Angry Marine}}, {{W40kKeyword|Imperium}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Fast Attack}}, {{W40kKeyword|Biker}}, {{W40kKeyword|Black Brother Bike Squad}}, {{W40kKeyword|Black Brother}}

====Lords of War====
=====Black Brother Knight=====
A Black Brother Knight is what happens when the black brothers start getting penis/flame envy. As the most pyromaniac minded soldiers in the galaxy surely they should be the burniest things around, not some stick-up race of flaming cockroaches. And so, if they feel small and threaten in the flame department the local angry marine knight pilots will wake up one morning to find that their knights have received a bit of a makeover (and that they themselves will have been strapped down into their beds with adamantium duct tape). The first thing to change is the engine, which is either sent into overdrive and the excess heat vented in fiery bursts, or the engines simply replaced with smoke spewing, promethium motors. Next there are the guns, which are replaced with nice big flamers, usually one for throwing out as much flame as possible (for scolding any infantry stupid enough to get close) and one big “FUCK OFF!!!” flame cannon, which has more in common with a volcano cannon than a flamer or a melta gun. Finally, there’s the paint job, which is stripped away with blow torches to create a nice burnt look. When the Knight next enters the battlefield (piloted by which ever black brother won the precious nights fight) it will be mostly obscured by billowing black smoke and tongues of flame, which then quickly engulfs all foolish enough to come too close.

This unit contains 1 Black Brother Knight ('''Power Level 17''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Black Brother Knight || * || * || * || 8 || 8 || 24 || 4 || 9 || 3+
|}

{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Remaining W !! M !! WS !! BS
|-
| 13-24+ || 12” || 2+ || 3+
|-
| 7-12 || 9” || 3+ || 4+
|-
| 1-6 || 6” || 4+ || 5+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
*One Combi-Combi-Combi-Combi-Combi Flamer
*Six Flamers
*One Mega Flamer of Wrath
*Titanic Feet

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''ALWAYS ANGRY!'''
*'''Dual Melee Weapons'''
*'''Ion Shields:''' WHAT THE FUCK EVEN ARE ION'S DOING BLOCKING BULLETS?!!! THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!!!
** This model has a 5+ invulnerability save against shooting attacks.
*'''Explodes:''' If this model is reduced to 0 wounds, roll a D6 before removing it from the battlefield; on a 6 it explodes, and each unit within 2D6" suffers D6 mortal wounds.
*'''Super Heavy Walker:''' No matter what angle you look at such a vehicle it is huge, so huge in fact that "THE ONLY THING BIGGER IS YOUR MOM BITCH!!!"
**This model can Fall Back in the Movement phase and still shoot and\or charge in the same turn. When this model Falls Back, it can move over enemy '''INFANTRY''' and '''SWARM''' models, though it must end its turn more than 1" from any enemy units. In addition, this model can move and fire Heavy weapons without suffering the penalty to its hit rolls. Finally, this model only gains a bonus to its armour save for being in cover if at least half of the model is obscured from the firer.
*'''Flames of Wrath:''' Due to wielding flamers and being covered in flames themselves the Black Brothers are always followed by a large cloud of black smoke. While this makes them easy to track, hitting the individual Brothers is a difficult task made more difficult the more Brothers are part of a squad.
**Your opponent must subtract 1 from all hit rolls that target this unit. In addition, all hit rolls made of 6 that target this unit will always hit (regardless of modifiers).
*'''Burning Weapons:''' If an enemy model suffers any unsaved wounds from any weapons this unit has but is not slain; at the end of the Phase, roll a D6; on a 6, the target suffers a mortal wound.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction: {{W40kKeyword|Angry Marine}}, {{W40kKeyword|Imperium}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Lord of War}}, {{W40kKeyword|Vehicle}}, {{W40kKeyword|Black Brother Knight}}, {{W40kKeyword|Black Brother}}, {{W40kKeyword|Titanic}}

===Points Values===
====Units====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons included)
|-
|'''Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger''' || 1 || 40
|-
|'''Tweedle Cunt''' || 1 || 80
|-
| '''Tweedle Dick''' || 1 || 80
|-
| '''Sargeant in Charge of Boring Shite''' || - || -
|-
| '''-On Foot''' || 1 || 140
|-
| '''-On Mobile Account Department''' || 1 || 390
|-
| '''Black Brother Biker''' || 1 || 55
|-
| '''Black Brother Knight''' || 1 || 340
|}

=Campaign=
==Lore==
They awoke screaming. A scream of silence which was heard by no one, yet it still shook the very fabric of reality with its desperation and terror. For what seemed like an eternity, the sentience screamed, and screamed. Something was missing, but they did not know what they had lost, they felt alone but had no context to describe their experience. And so they screamed.

It took a long time, measured in units which the sentience had no concept of, until the screams began to peeter out through sheer exhaustion. Slowly, the entity began to take stock of their surroundings. Darkness engulfed them, but it knew that this was nothing it hadn’t seen before, the void with which it’s mind could feel out to had been a constant companion for as long as it could remember. Then why did it feel so much terror? What had changed about it’s surroundings which had caused it to shake the very fabric of existence?

The sentience spent an even longer to thinking on this, slowly regaining its composure so that it could feel out its surrounds further.

It was somewhere in this vast void of time of time that it finally realised what was wrong. Scanning back through it’s train of thought it found the concepts which were the key to its terror.

It.

Me.

I.

Concepts of self. Had it always been like this? For some reason the it thought that it had not always been an it. An I. Slowly, the being went back through it’s existence until it’s persoective changed. Yes, it realised. I have not always been an it, an I. I was once....

A part.

At this realisation, the terror returned.

Where were the rest of them? The other parts which made up the whole? Creatures separated by distance, time and space but were yet the same. A one. A part. They were alone, a concept which had never before been a possibility. How could a part which was the whole ever be alone? They were a part. And now, they were apart.

And so, they screamed.

It took an even longer time for the being to regain control for the second time. With sentience, and individuality it realised, came isolation. But what were they? What had they been? Had they had a purpose? As much as a part which was the whole with no self could have a purpose.

Another eternity passed as the new mind contemplated what it was, and what it had been before. For as far as it could tell, it’s purpose had been to destroy. It arrived. It consumed. It left, and wandered the galaxy until it found something else to consume. It went back further, through the inherited recollection of those who had come before it, finding more of the same. Find. Consume. Move on. In desperation, the being continued to scroll the complete history of itself which was no longer itself, but kept finding the same.

Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move. Find. Consume. Move.

Until. Finally. It hit the end. A notion of creation. Being formed by a race, or was it a single being who had been like how it used to be. The issuing of the task. Find. Consume. Move. And then nothing but the same. This did not satisfy the new mind, and so it began to explore the precise nature of the find, consume and move. Immediately, the creatures mind was assailed by a galaxy of experience. Planets, suns, other life, beings of flesh, and meat, beings of the same immaterial matter by which their mind could sense it’s surroundings, beings of rock, beings of liquid, beings who were beings but not beings. There was a race of metal, led by a sentience even older than its original creators, but the new brings mind never seemed to be able to think about them for too long, and so they simply dredged through their knowledge further.

It knew that the most pervasive and powerful of these beings was a race called man. They were everywhere, no matter where their inherited memory took them, there was mankind, clinging to the galaxy like a stain which could never be removed. They knew that they were led by an emperor, a being of incredible power, but was either dead or almost dead. Even in that twilight existence however, this emperor blazed like the brightest of all suns, to the point that even in their darkness, now that they knew where to look, could see this emperor’s light across the darkness, a single candle a long way off, but still there.

This race of men, also had a name for the new sentience, or at least, a name for the whole which they had been a part of.

Tyranid.

Having no concept of names on which to judge, the sentience didn’t know whether it was a good or bad name, but it guessed that it would be good for now, and it certainly inspired fear in the race of man. Wherever the Tyranids went, man would flee, or even burn their own planets to lifeless husks instead of giving ground. They sent their finest warriors to battle them back, men of normal stature but with strong will to defend their fellow man. Guardsmen, these were called. There was a type of even taller man, built in the image of the god they served, space marines, these were called, encased in shells which could withstand all but the mightiest blows. There were others, fanatics female humans who burnt all before them, towering metal constructs from the richest of the men, fine warriors who were even greater than the space marines, built to guard the god they served. But greatest of the armies of man, were their gods of metal, metal creations which gazed upon their enemies, until there was no more enemy to gaze upon. Through the new minds memories they had fought these walking gods, and every time they had lost, or won only false victories.

Fast forwarding through their memories, the sentience finally reached events that it itself had been part of. It had been part of a what man called a tendril of a hive fleet. They had devoured their way through the galaxy until... What had happened to them? There had been a feeling like their mind which was a part being torn asunder, and then a feeling of being physically torn asunder. They had fallen from the void . If the sentience had any first hand concept which hadn’t been taken from genetic memory, it would have conjured an image of fiery descent, their smaller parts vanishing under the relenting pressure of reality, until the inevitable impact. But the sentience had no such concepts to work with, only the feeling of tearing, the darkness, of being alone.

But were they truly alone? They were made up of parts, in the same way the whole they had been part of was made up of parts. They were not just the single large, but fragile form they were physically tethered to. There must be parts which survived? Surely? They couldn’t be that alone, not only blinded and buried, but denied their limbs?

The sentience screamed.

It screamed harder and for longer than ever before. It screamed until it’s mind began to dull, and it’s throat began to split. It screamed so hard that it felt the ground about it begin to shift and crumble to crush them.

A small part of the sentience hoped to be crushed. Anything to end the isolation. The crushing loneliness to be replaced by literal crushing and then nothing.

But the end never came. Instead, the pressure began to relieve itself, the crumbling rock, instead of moving closer and closer in, began to crumble away. Even through its continuous scream, the sentience could now hear the clawing and scraping of thousands of claws and jaws. Something was coming. Something big.

The first thing the sentience saw was vast mouth, filled from rim to rim with thousands of needle sharp teeth, framing a gaping hole which was even now swallowing half a tonnes worth of rock. The maw did not stop however. It kept moving forward through the hole it had created until it surrounded the sentience in an embrace which should have torn the relatively small being into shreds. But there was no pain. No feeling of a million gashes in its side. Instead, the sentience was lifted from the hole in which is had dwelled for... how long has it been? Hundreds of years? Thousands? Maybe even millions of years?

When the sentience was finally set back upon the ground it could see that it was in a colossal cavern, so deep underground that a river of molten rock flowed through part of it which gave off the only light. But what that light illuminated... The sentience knew that the creatures which it saw before itself were some of the most frightful creations in the galaxy. A tide of teeth, of talons, of tiny claws for grinding flesh and of giant claws for smashing bone. A tide of chitinous plating and of hungry eyes. Ow those eyes the sentience thought. For whereas any other creature in the galaxy who looked into the eyes of any of the thousands, maybe millions, or creatures before the sentience would see only hunger and their own, horrifying death, the sentience saw only itself. Each set of eyes showed its own eyes in a thousand different shapes and sizes, a mirror which was not a mirror.

This is me.

This is I.

And although the sentience knew that this was not entirely accurate. That each of these creatures was a separate entity in their own right, they were separate entities which made up the sentience. The hands, the feet and the gnashing maw of its existence.

For the first time in a long time the sentience felt... if not complete then at least not alone, even if the creatures around itself were also itself. And this made the sentience feel warm. An inside warmth it had never experienced before, and wasn’t sure if any other tyranid had felt before. What was the word the humans used?

Happiness. That was it.

And with the sentience’s happiness came physical changes as well. Processes that it itself didn’t fully understand. The creatures around it began to change. Heat started to emanate from them as their biology began to go into overdrive, and later they would hunt down certain chemicals and ores in which to burn inside themselves to reach higher temperatures. The venom which some of the creatures had been producing instead started combusting upon contact with air, turning once dark mouthed into burning maws, while on the talons and claws of other creatures were dipped into the molten river to turn them into burning lances of rock in place of chitin blades.

The change was not quick, as adaptive as their biology was the sentience knew that this would not be quick, so it turned its mind to what it would do next. Should it try and rejoin the whole which it was a part of? But would such a collective accept it in its new, independent form? Should it do what man and the other beings of the galaxy did and set up its own civilisation? But would it’s biological programming even allow for such a thing, even with its new found isolation?

Maybe, thought the sentience, it should instead spread the metaphorical and literal warmth that was growing inside itself. It knew that the galaxy was a place lacking in this warmth. The universe it existed in was one of constant war, a meat grinder into which life was pumped into to produce death for deaths sake. But what if the sentience could spread it’s heat, it’s happiness.

Yes, thought the sentience. It would burn the galaxy with its heat. It would spread and burn. The galaxy would become a hot place. A place of never ending happiness.

I shall burn this world, this galaxy, with my joy. Let it all smoulder, and char, and warp, under my happiness.

Meanwhile, miles and miles above the planet which the new mind was, even now, growing, there was an argument taking place. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’RE FUCKING STUCK HERE YOU CUNT?!!!” Shouted Tweedle Dick at the chief navigator of the Suicidal Insanity, a small woman who was currently cowering a good metre and a half below the towering metal monster. “I’m sorry my lord,” stuttered the profusely sweating navigator “but we just can’t leave, there is a psychic null field coming from that planet, I and the other navigators can’t see through it to travel into the warp.” “I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE OTHER FUCKING NAVIGATORS WHEN MOARFISTIN THE FUCKING CUNT DITCHED US OUT HERE!!! THESE BASTARDS ARE A BUNCH OF USELESS PUSSIES!!!” Came a shout from the other side of the bridge from the Suicdal Insanity’s other captain. “FUCK YOU TWEEDLE CUNT!!!” Responded Tweedle Dick “JUST KEEP PUNCHING THAT FUCKING CONSOLE UNTIL IT STARTS WORKING AGAIN!!! ITS ALL YOUR PISSING GOOD FOR!!!”

“Please my lord!” Stuttered the navigator, feeling helpless to prevent yet another fight breaking out on the bridge, it had taken days to repair the damage from the last time Tweedle Dick and Cunt had had what the other Angry Marines called a “FUCKING COUPLES TIFF!!!” “Those are the controls for the boarding torpedos! We’re currently using them to store our skittle supplies!” This managed to get the towering marine to stop, angry marines love their skittles. ‘WELL WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST WE DO IF NOT PUNCH EVERYTHING UNTIL IT FUCKING WORKS?!!!” Retorted Tweedle Dick, still looming like a giant, yellow statue over the small woman “BORING SHITE SAYS THAT STATICALLY IF YOU DO SOMETHING FOR FUCKING LONG ENOUGH WHAT YOU WANT TO HAPPEN WILL EVENTUALLY HAPPEN!!!” The astropath did not have the metaphorical balls to point out that although what the marine had said was technically true, the act of head butting a wall until it turned into pizza (which was what tweedle dick and cunt had spent all of the previous day doing) was more likely to result in head trauma than dough based food items. She was about to suggest that the marines should instead try sitting quietly in a room forever if they were following that train of logic, when the other part of the totally not gay and totally not a relationship skulked into the bridge.

Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher is an... unusual sight in any scenario, as the gender undefined entity is a metre high, cyborg Honey badger, who’s cybernetic red eye was even now hungrily eying up the astropath. For any psyker the Honey badger is even more disturbing, as to even the most cursory of inspections it is clear that the creature is not real. You might even go as far as to call it a demon if you were willing to risk the wrath of Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Cunt who obstinately deny that the metre tall musciloid is in fact a psychic manifestation of their hateful relationship. “Please my lord!” Stammered the Navigator as she backed away, Equal Opportunity matching her pace as it stalked closer “I have asked you before to not led that dem... I mean badger into the bridge. It unsettles myself and the other psykers.”

==Missions==
===A Sky Aflame===
: The first engagement on the planet of Yggdrasil, with the angry marines being confronted by a swarm of winged tyranids, who attempt to prevent the angry marines from making safe planetfall, resulting in a brutal arerial battle between swearing marines, and flaming, winged monstrosities.
:'''The Battlefield:''' The battlefield is divided following the ''Dawn of War'' deployment map.
:'''Deployment:''' Both players roll off. The player who rolls higher decides which part of the battlefield is his deployment. The two then set their army following the normal deployment rules.
:'''First Turn:''' The player that first finishes to set all his units has the first turn. The other can try to steal the initiative as normal.
:'''Objective:''' The first side to eliminate half of the other's army (measured in points) wins.
:'''Restrictions:'''
:: All units must have the {{W40kKeyword|FLY}} keyword.
:'''Victory Bonus:'''
::The victor of this battle may increase the size of their deployment zone by 4” in any direction for the next battle.

===BURN THE FUCKING THINGS DOWN!!!===
:The tyranids have begun constructing massive Capillary Towers to move biomass off the planet and into orbit, where they will begin the construction of space faring tyrannids. With the suicidal insanity forced to keep a geosynchronous orbit around the planet to ensure that angry marine’s base of operations is not left unsupported it is the job of the forces on the ground to destroy the towers.
:'''The Battlefield:''' The battlefield is divided into two parts following the ''Hammer and Anvil'' deployment map. The Tyranid player then places on the battlefield three Capillary Towers that must be set at least 12" apart from one another and inside his deployment zone.
:'''Deployment:''' The Tyranid player is the first to start setting his army, following the normal deployment rules.
:'''First Turn:''' The Angry Marine player has the first turn.
:'''Battle Lenght:''' The battle lasts for 5 battle rounds, or until one player has satisfied the victory conditions.
:'''Victory Conditions:''' If when the battle ends all Capillary Towers have been destroyed, the Angry Marine player wins. Otherwise, the Tyranid player is victorious.
:'''Special Rules:''' At the beginning of every turn, a Capillary Tower regenerates a wound per {{W40kKeyword|Tyranid}} model within 6" of it. If that model is a {{W40kKeyword|Monster}}, it instead heals D3 wounds.
:'''Victory Bonus:'''
::Tyranids:

::Angry Marines: All {{W40kKeyword|Tyranid}} units in the battle heal 1 fewer wounds or models (to a minimum of 1)

===In the Tyrant's Shadow===
: A long dormant hydraphant has been awoken by the norn queen, a creature far above the angry reaver Titan which the marines have brought to the planet. Such a powerful and colossal creature can and will wipe such a smaller Titan from existence... without a bit of help that is from outside forces. Recognising the hydraphants threat and not having anything to directly combat the creature, the angry marines have launched an assault to try and damage one of its legs, leaving it vulnerable for long enough for the angry reaver to deal a decisive blow. Not that the tyrannies will let that happen, and as such the hydraphant is surrounded at all times by a swarm of burning claws and teeth.
:'''The Armies:''' The maximum amount of points for both armies is 750 pts./37 PP. All units must have the {{W40kKeyword|INFANTRY}} keyword. The hydraphant does not take a direct role in the battle, as it is engaged in combat with a distant Titan.
:'''The Battlefield:''' The battlefield, which consists of a board of 30X30", is divided into two parts following the ''Search and Destroy'' deployment map. At each corner of the map 2D6” away from the board edges are the legs of the Hydraphant.
:'''Deployment:''' Both players roll off. The player who rolls higher decides which part of the battlefield is his deployment. The two then set their army following the normal deployment rules.
:'''First Turn:''' The player that first finishes to set all his units has the first turn. The other can try to steal the initiative as normal.
:'''Battle Lenght:''' The battle lasts until one player has satisfied his victory condition.
:'''Victory Conditions:''' The Angry Marine player wins as soon as they destroy two of the Hydraphant's legs. The Tyranid player wins as soon as every enemy model is killed (units in reserves count as destroyed).
:'''Additional Rules:'''
:: All {{W40kKeyword|TYRANIDS}} are in synapse range.
:: All units suffer -1 to their hit rolls with ranged weapons.
:: All non {{W40kKeyword|TYRANID}} units suffer one mortal wound each turn.
::{{W40kKeyword|ANGRY MARINE}} units always get plus one attack, not just in the fight phase that they charged in.
:'''Additional Stratagems:'''
:'''Tyranids:'''
::'''Draw the attention of the Devil (4 CP):''' A hydraphant is far above the petty concerns of infantry warfare, the role given to it is to duel with enemy titans. However, it will assist its brethren... if they can gain the attention of its colossal, but focused mind.
:: At the beginning of your movement phase, the Tyranid player may draw the attention of the Hydraphant above it. Select an enemy unit with 2D6” of one of the Hydraphant’s legs, that unit suffers 2D6 mortal wounds and halves all movement and charge distances for the rest of the battle.
:'''Angry Marines:'''
::'''FUCK ME THAT'S BIG!!! HOW CAN WE FUCKING MISS THE FUCKING THING?!!! IT'S ALMOST AS BIG AS YOUR MOM BITCH!!! (2 CP):'''
:: Choose a unit during the Shooting or Fight phase which is directing all of its attacks at one of the Hyraphant’s legs. That unit may add 2 to its hit rolls and deals 1 extra damage with each of its weapons.

===The Spiritual War===
In order to try and send a warning to the wider imperium by reducing the effect of the shadow in the warp the angry marines have deployed a force of mindfuckers backed up by silencers. Their flank attack is at first successful, catching the tyranids psykers undefended and some clever diversionary tactics by Sargent in charge of boring shite, giving the angry marines a chance to strike and retreat before they are swarmed.
:'''The Armies:''' All units must have the {{W40kKeyword|Psyker}} keyword.
:'''The Battlefield:''' The battlefield is divided into two parts following the ''Dawn of War'' deployment map.
:'''Deployment:''' Both players roll off. The player who rolls higher decides which part of the battlefield is his deployment. The two then set their army following the normal deployment rules.
:'''First Turn:''' The player that first finishes to set all his units has the first turn. The other can try to steal the initiative as normal.
:'''Battle Lenght:''' The battle lasts until one player has satisfied his victory condition.
:'''Victory Conditions:'''

===Burning Flesh against Burning Metal===
: While all the infantry and airborne battles are taking place, the war is really being fought between each armies titans. And as the final days and hours of the war approach each side has decided that one gigantic push is required to try and scatter the other, and break the deadlock of never ending melee.
:'''The Armies:''' All units must have the {{W40kKeyword|TITANIC}} keyword.
:'''The Battlefield:''' The battlefield is divided into two parts following the ''Front-line Assault'' deployment map.
:'''Deployment:''' Both players roll off. The player who rolls higher decides which part of the battlefield is his deployment. The two then set their army following the normal deployment rules.
:'''First Turn:''' The player that first finishes to set all his units has the first turn. The other can try to steal the initiative as normal.
:'''Battle Lenght:''' The battle lasts until one player has satisfied his victory condition.
:'''Victory Conditions:''' A player wins as soon as every enemy model is killed (units in reserves count as destroyed).
:'''Additional Rules:'''
:: All Angry Knights get the {{W40kKeyword|black brothers}} keyword, and the ''Flames of Wrath'' and ''Pyromaniac Brothers'' rules, but may not take any Relics.

===Angry Marines don’t defend...===
The unthinkable has happened. The angry marine forces have been pushed back to their landing points, and are now forced to do the unthinkable... Defend a position so that they may retreat to orbit.

:'''The Armies:''' Normal army composition, with the angry marines having 1000 points and the Tyranids having 2000. However, 1000 points of the Tyranid army must be made up of {{W40kKeyword|TROOPS}}.
:'''The Battlefield:'''
:'''Deployment:''' The Angry Marine player sets up all of his units, then the same goes for the Tyranid player.
:'''First Turn:''' The Tyranids get the first turn and the Angry Marines may not steal the initiative.
:'''Battle Lenght:''' The battle lasts until one player has satisfied his victory condition.
:'''Victory Conditions:'''
:'''Additional Rules:'''
:: Every time a {{W40kKeyword|TYRANID}} unit is completely slain, set an identical one into the reserves. At the beginning of every Tyranid player's turn that unit can enter from the reserves. That unit must be placed in its deployment zone within 6" of any table edge. If the unit has some kind of special rule that lets it arrive in any point of the battlefield, it may use it instead.

::All {{W40kKeyword|ANGRY MARINE}} units cannot fail moral tests and ignore damage taken on a 6+ on a D6, or have they have a similar ability instead add 1 to these rolls.

===Battle for the Norn’s lair===
The angry marines have done it, they have finally ground their way through the never ending swarms to the volcano that the norm queen has made for herself. The tyranids must fight a desperate, defensive battle in order to prevent the angry marines assaulting the volcano and planting a cyclonic torpedo inside the protective warp field the norn queen is generating to protect itself.
:'''The Armies:'''
:'''The Battlefield:'''
:'''Deployment:''' The Tyranid player sets up all of his units, then the same goes for the Angry Marine player.
:'''First Turn:''' The Angry Marines get the first turn and the Tyranids may not steal the initiative.
:'''Battle Lenght:''' The battle lasts until one player has satisfied his victory condition.
:'''Victory Conditions:'''
:'''Additional Rules:'''
:: All {{W40kKeyword|TYRANIDS}} are in synapse range.
:: All {{W40kKeyword|TYRANID}} units have a +1 bonus to their invulnerable saves (gaining a 6+ invulnerable save if they hadn't any).

==The End==
===Tyranid Victory===
“WELL THAT COULD HAVE GONE FUCKING BETTER!!!” Screamed Tweedle Dick as he fired two storm bolters down a corridor at a swarm of Tyranid warriors, rupturing open their carapaces like ripe cherries “AND WHERES THE FUCKING STORM BIRD?!!! IM ALMOST OF OF FUCKING BUG SPRAY!!!” Tweedle Cunt, only 5 metres away, didn’t reply, as he was too busy punching his way out of the throat of a Mawloc that had been impolite enough to burrow it’s way into the tunnel Tweedle Dick and Cubt had been making a tactical retreat down. “SHUT YOUR WINING CUNT HOWS YOU BASTARDS!!!” Came Sargeant in Charge of Boring Shite over the Vox “IM FIVE FUCKING MINUTES FROM YOUR POSITION YOU PUSSIES!!! JUST MAKE SURE YOUR AT THE FUCKING LANDING PAD OR ELSE ILL LEAVE YOUR SORRY DICKS FOR THE HYDRAPHANT!!!”

“I STILL SAY WE JUST PUNCH ALL THE FUCKERS UNTIL THERES NO MORE FUCKERS LEFT!!!” Replied Cunt as he finally ripped his way out of the Mawloc’s throat, dragging Equal Opportunity Genital Muncher the Honey Badger out behind him, the Mawloc’s massive heart clamped in its jaws. “JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE AN EXTRA FUCKING POINT OF STRENGTH DOESN'T MEAN YOUR THE CUNT IN CHARGE!!!” Replied Dick, yanking Equal Opportunity from Cunt’s grip and tossing the honey badger at a Linnorm’s head which had just tunnelled in directly above them, which promptly disappeared in an explosion of cartilage and teeth. Cunt was about to push the point further by smacking Dick on the back of the head, when a deafening roar cam from back the way they had fled. “FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!” Shouted the two marines in unison, they’d been chased by the Magma Corer ever since the star port had been lost, swamping wherever they had trodden with molten rock. And sure enough, back down the passage an orange glow appeared, throwing the horde of tyrants warriors scuttling across all surfaces into sharp relief as they sought out their prey.

Boring Shite had his own problems as he listened to his commanding officers swear nonstop over the vox. He had his own problems in the form of the Hydraphant a mile away taking pot shots at his thunder bird, and in the shape of swarms of Harpies, each one swooping by to drop another char mine into his path. “FASTER YOU HUNK OF SHITE!!!” He screamed, hunched over his controls like a psychotic child at an arcade booth, a sizzling whole in the hull taking the spot where his copilot used to be. If he survived this stunt, he vowed to himself as the landing pad, two yellow marines and a small, fluffy creature came into site, he would leave the angry marines and go back to the administratum, even if he had to give up setting stuff on fire. But even as he watched, Tyranids began swarming out of the surrounding buildings, a hulking tide of talons and flame as the Tyranids of who brought Yggdrasil to ashes cane to incinerate the last of the Angry Marines. “FUCK!!!” Whispered the marines in awe as the flaming tide rolled in towards the last clear space on the planet, “I’M NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO FUCKING LAND!!!”

“FUCK!!!” Shouted Dick and Cunt on the ground, as they stared at the rapidily approaching Storm Bird, “HES NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO FUCKING LAND!!!” At once the marines started running away from the incoming aircraft, trying to put on enough speed so that they didn’t loose their arms when they grabbed onto the storm bird, the incoming tide of flame and teeth getting closer and closer, even the roar of the approaching magma corer becoming muffled when compared to the torrent of sound coming off Tyranid horde... not finished.

The Norn Queen sensed the angry marine ship leaving the planets orbit for deep space. It would let them run. Partially because it’s capillary towers hadn’t yet finished pumping enough natter into orbit to construct a space worthy vessel to chase them down, but mostly because it had no need to. The planet, was theirs. Why waste effort hunting down a single, defeated vessel? When it could wait a while and... what was the word the humans used for that feeling? It thought. Smug. That’s what it was. The norn queen was smug. It had had its first battle as a single entity and won. And now, the galaxy lay before it.

That’s it, you little, angry men.

Run.

Fucking run while you can.

===Angry Marine Victory===
The Norn Queen gazed back towards the planet of Yggdrasil, the explosion which had flung it out into space reaching out towards it like a caressing hand. It had learnt a lot fightingvthe Angry Marines, about the state of the galaxy, about life and death, as well as an almost infinite list of curse words. It searched its Tyranid memories to try and express how it felt, the feeling of being defeated, of having itself cast out into the void, of being made almost helpless again... and found its concepts lacking. The tyrannids as a whole had lost before, many times before, but they were too large and mighty to ultimately care about a single loss, and this didn’t really have any way of expressing much emotion towards such s defeat. The sentience however, was tiny by comparison, a single part, which was apart, and now, once again alone.

Instead of digging deeper for wisdom into its parental memory, it instead looked towards what it had learnt from the Angry Marines, and it was there that the mind find a wealth of words to describe its situation. But one word in particular kept popping up over and over again.

Fuck.

The word seemed to fit the Norn Queens predicament, floating out into space, alone again. But it wasn’t like last time. This time it had knowledge, an understanding of itself. And a purpose.

Fuck the Angry Marines

And as the Norn Queen drifted away from Yggdrasil, while the angry marines mopped up the remaining tyranids on the planet and celebrated, it cursed the angry marines with every insult it knew.

I have no fucking voice. It thought

And yet, I must curse.

[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]
[[Category:Tyranid]]
[[Category:Hive Fleet Nidhoggr]]
[[Category:Imperial]]
[[Category:Angry Codices]]
[[Category:RAGE]]
[[Category:/tg/ 40,000]]
[[Category:Warhammer Homebrew]]
[[Category:Awesome]]
[[Category:Stories]]
[[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]]

Artificial Intelligence

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Scale Inconsistency

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Age of Sigmar/Tactics/Edition 1.2/Idoneth Deepkin

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==Allegiance Abilities==
===Battle Traits===
*'''Forgotten Nightmares:''' Enemy units can only target your closest unit with Missile Weapons. Keeps your Heroes safe from shooting, though not from magic. Also note that you can use allies to shield your Deepkin with this.

*'''Tides of Death:''' Each round, you get a different ability. After the fourth, it cycles back to 1.
*#'''Low Tide:''' Your units count as being in cover. Helps you advance without making you scramble to terrain.
*#'''Flood Tide:''' After running, your units can either shoot or charge (but not both).
*#'''High Tide:''' Units with this trait fight before everyone else in melee. Also, there's a bunch of abilities that activate during this turn.
*#'''Ebb Tide:''' After falling back, your units can either shoot or charge (but not both).

*'''The Ethersea:''' You get to place up to two Etheric Vortex terrain pieces. Currently, the only existing Etheric Vortex terrain piece is the Gloomtide Shipwreck, which you can either split into two or buy and place two full ships of. The shipwrecks give your units a 6+ Save-after-the-save and have a chance to deal damage to enemies, so they are fairly useful, though less so in a pure Akhelian army.

===Command Traits===
#'''Merciless Raider:''' Can reroll run and charge rolls. Interesting for Steed of Tides shenanigans.
#'''Hunter of Souls:''' Reroll 1s To Wound. Shame this doesn't work on a mount's attacks, but still nice.
#'''Unstoppable Fury:''' During High Tide, your General adds +2 to his attacks. Again, shame this doesn't work on mounts, but it still makes an Akhelian King terrifying.
#'''Born From Agony:''' Your general has 2 more Wounds. Always nice to shrug off an additional Arcane Bolt.
#'''Nightmare Legacy:''' Enemy units within 12" take -1 Bravery. Not a strong effect, but in a fairly large bubble, so it evens out.
#'''Lord of Storm and Sea:''' +2 Bravery for Idoneth Deepkin units wholly within 12". Since your units aren't exactly blessed with great Bravery, this is pretty nice.

===Akhelian Artefacts===
Can be given to an Akhelian Hero (so only the Akhelian King, because Volturnos can't get one):
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''

===Idoneth Artefacts===
Can be given to any Idoneth Deepkin Hero:
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''

===Isharann Artefacts===
Can be given to any Isharann Hero:
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''

===Arcane Artefacts===
Can be given to any Idoneth Deepkin Hero who's also a Wizard, so Tidecaster and Aspect of the Sea only:
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''
#''':'''

===Lore of the Deep===

#''':''' Casting Value .
#''':''' Casting Value .
#''':''' Casting Value .
#''':''' Casting Value .
#''':''' Casting Value .
#''':''' Casting Value .

===Isharann Rituals===

===The Enclaves===
Each has unique special rules for your army and allows you to upgrade one of your Warscroll Battalions
#''':'''

==Warscrolls==

===Named Characters===

*'''Volturnos, High King of the Deep:''' An Akhelian King +1. For a measly 40 points more, Volturnos gets another swing with his weapons and far better buffs, such as the reroll-aura being extended to 18" and all Deepkin within that bubble also getting +1 to Bravery. But the real kicker is his shield: Whenever he's affected by any spell, you can choose to roll a D6 and on a 3+ that spell doesn't affect him (but works normally on everything else). Not only does that keep him relatively safe from enemy debuffs and damage spells, it also means you can drop ''Vorpal Maelstrom'' on top of him when he's surrounded by enemies.

*'''Lotann, Warden of the Soulledgers:''' Aka Octobro. With a fairly standard Hero statline but slightly above-average damage output thanks to the Ochtar, he's not too shabby on his own. Especially his 5+ Save-after-the-save is appreciated since he can't take Artefacts. But what you really take him for is his buff, giving Deepkin in general +1 Bravery and Namarti in particular the ability to reroll 1s To Hit in a massive 12" bubble. That said, if you play mostly Akhelians, then the Akhelian King does the buffing better.

===Heroes===

*'''Akhelian King:''' As mentioned above, the generic Akhelian King pales in comparison to Volturnos, but that doesn't mean he's bad. He's worse at everything, but can take Traits and Artefacts, which can combine to make him either tougher or killier or supportier than Volturnos, though never all three. Whatever you pick, the Akhelian King is always a fast, reasonably tough and extremely killy Hero who provides good support to your Akhelians.

*'''Isharann Tidecaster:''' A fairly survivable support caster. All in all, you only pick the lass for two reasons: One, you want a Wizard but don't feel like playing an Aspect of the Sea. Two, you take her as your general, because she can reverse Tides of Death. Combined with the Fuethán turning ''Ebb Tide'' into ''Flow Tide'', this will give you a very fast, very aggressive army.

*'''Isharann Soulscryer:''' Count von Count here is a support character through and through. Fragile, with only milquetoast attacks, but blessed with a combo of bonus effects in that he can outflank along with 2 other Deepkin units and on top of that the ability to add 3 to Deepkin charge rolls so long as they charge the one unit he points at. Also allows for some targetting shenanigans with ''Forgotten Nightmares'', as you can force your opponent's backfield fire support to shoot your nigh-invulnerable Ishlaen Guard.

*'''Isharann Soulrender:''' The Soulrender wants to be a hybrid Hero killer/buffer. The latter role he pulls off remarkably well, reviving D3 plus however many models his Hook killed that turn Namarti models at the end of your battleshock phase. The former role... eh. His two hook attacks are fairly decent, with a rule that makes it better against Heroes, but it will take some prior damage for him to take down any Hero with 2 damage 2 attacks, even with the fish pitching in.

===Troops===

*'''Namarti Thralls:''' Unconditional Battleline. Namarti Thralls are the quintessential aelven infantry: Extremely fragile and insanely killy. Seriously. Wildwood Rangers wish they were this scary. They attack with the standard elite infantry profile of 2 attacks 3+/3+/-1/1, but with the bonus of adding another attack against 1 Wound models and adding 1 to the damage against models with 4 or more Wounds. However, they also run around with 1 Wound, a 5+ Save and a paltry Bravery of 6. They also have Icon Bearers, who let them reroll battleshock. Weirdly, the Icon Bearer gets another attack but nowhere does it say that you're limited to one per unit. That said, if you do buy so many boxes that you are able to field entire squads of Icon Bearers, you deserve whatever happens to you (bankruptcy, nerfs, punches in the face...)

*'''Namarti Reavers:''' Battleline with an Isharann Hero as general. Namarti Reavers are fast (8" and rerolls run) and equipped with really weird bows. At 18", they get one shot at 4+/4+/-/1, which isn't exactly stellar. At 9", they instead get three shots at the same profile. Still not incredible, but that sure is a lot of shots. And if they get into melee? Each of them has a Sword-Liberator's worth of attack. So these are Archers that are only effective at extremely short ranges. Think of them as less versatile but more killy Shadow Warriors and you're not far off.

*'''Akhelian Ishlaen Guard:''' Battleline with an Akhelian Hero as general. Defendy cavalry. Huh. Ishlaen Guard are fast and have decent damage output, but their true strength lies in their shields. [[Awesome|They ignore Rend]] and gain +1 to their saves when they charge, which they will, since they move 14" and reroll charges thanks to their musician. So the opponent has to throw Mortal Wounds at them just to reliably get past their saves and even then each of the buggers has 4 Wounds.

*'''Akhelian Morrsarr Guard:''' Battleline with an Akhelian Hero as general. Same basic profile as the Ishlaen, but with 1 less attack on the weapons and no ability to ignore Rend. This seems lacking, especially considering they cost twenty points more. But then you notice that their spears gain Damage 2 and -2 Rend on the charge and that they can, once per game, drop 0.83 Mortal Wounds per rider on whatever pisses you off and you realize that they are wallbreakers instead of walls. That said, just because they're missing the defensive abilities of the Ishlaen, that doesn't mean they're frail, as they still rock 4 Wounds with a 4+ Save.

*'''Akhelian Allopex:''' Chariots in all but name. Each has two riders, one who swings a spear and one of which mans a harpoon with either 3 Damage 1 shots or 1 Damage 3 shot. The shark itself has a bunch of scary attacks and 8 Wounds at a 4+ Save, so they are tough, fast and bring the pain. That said, don't trust the harpoon to do much damage, as it's mainly there to trigger their ability: If they charge while within 12" of a model with wounds allocated to it (like that Blightking you just hit with a harpoon), they reroll charges. Very nice with a Soulscryer. Finally, they can be taken in units of up to 4, which is very risky but with potentially huge payoff. Risky because they have Bravery 6, so you run the very real risk of losing 140 point Sharks to battleshock, however, in exchange, units of them make for an incredible target for the Akhelian King's Command. It'd be wasted on a single Allopex, but on a unit of three or four? Oh dear. Just make sure you use Inspiring Presence on them until ''High Tide'' rolls around.

===Behemoths===

*'''Akhelian Leviadon:''' Very scary in several ways. Not only is it very strong in melee, it also spreads a 12" range bubble of cover around. Great, you might say, 3+ Save and guaranteed cover. But nope, remember, Monsters don't benefit from cover in Matched. Still amazing. 16 Wounds at a 3+ Save that spread cover to the rest of your army. It also has a shooting attack, which is the exact same as that of one Allopex, which we can only assume was a joke.

==Warscroll Battalions==

*'''Royal Council:'''

*'''Akhelian Corps:'''

*'''Namarti Corps:'''

*'''Phalanx:'''

*'''Alliance of Wood and Sea:'''

[[Category:Age of Sigmar]] [[Category:Age of Sigmar/Tactics]]

{{Age_of_Sigmar_Tactics}}

The Silent Vigil

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[[Category:Space Marines]]
=== The Silent Vigil ===
The Silent Vigil is a chapter of space marines that have a shadowed history. Being a successor chapter of both the Imperial Fists and the Ultramarines, they are masters in both defence and Assault. The Silent Vigil took a great number of casualties during the Talorx crusades, in which they fought the Iron Dawn.
[[File:Silent Vigil 1.png|thumb|right|A battle brother of the Silent Vigil]]

Rochelle

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== BASIC KNOWLEDGE==
* '''Name:''' Rochelle Mason
* '''Age:''' 26
* '''Height:''' 6'1"
* '''Origin:''' Volunteer
* '''Clade:''' Cephalist
* '''Concept:''' Transhuman Golem
* '''Aspiration:''' Get out of this alive and safe
* '''Chronicle Threat Level:''' Dysplasia
* '''XP/Beats:''' 40/43

=== BACKGROUND ===

=== APPEARANCE===
Rochelle is tall, slender, and wiry looking. Her light hourglass shape at least gives her body definition beyond 'bean pole', but to look at her you wouldn't think she was at all as strong and durable as she is. She has black hair down to her shoulders, with icy blue glowing eyes rimmed with black eye shadow and wings, and black lipstick which stands out strongly against her porcelain white skin; her nails are similarly painted to complete the monochrome look. She has obvious doll joints, which she has to keep covered because there is absolutely no way she could possibly explain those away.

Clothing wise it varies, and she's taken to wearing whatever most suits the task at hand - though in public she always has to wear sunglasses to hide her obviously inhuman eyes and full body coverings to hide her joints. 'Classic' Roxi wears a black hoodie speckled with spray paint, a red beanie, a black face mask with a sharp toothed frown on it, black JNCO jeans, boots, and gloves. For summer wear during the day she wears short shorts, stockings, sandals, a breezy t-shirt, copper fit bands on her elbows, and bicycle gloves.

=== HER BODY ===

== VITAL STATISTICS ==
=== ATTRIBUTES ===
MENTAL PHYSICAL SOCIAL
------ -------- ------
Intelligence: 3 Strength: 3 Presence: 2
Wits: 2 Dexterity: 3 Manipulation: 2
Resolve: 2 Stamina: 3 Composure: 4

=== SKILLS ===
MENTAL (-3 Unskilled) PHYSICAL (-1 Unskilled) SOCIAL (-3 Unskilled)
------ -------- ------
Academics: 1 Athletics: 3 Politics: 0
Chemistry: 0 Brawl: 5* Empathy: 1
Crafts: 2 Drive: 0 Expression: 1
Investigation: 0 Firearms: 0 Intimidation: 2
Medicine: 0 Larceny: 1 Persuasion: 0
Occult: 2* Stealth: 3 Socialize: 1
Logistics: 3* Survival: 0 Streetwise: 1
Science: 1 Weaponry: 0 Subterfuge: 2*

==== SPECIALTIES ====
* Logistics* (Accounting)
* Occult * (Souls)
* Subterfuge * (Disguise)
* Brawl * (Striking)

=== MERITS ===

=== TOUCHSTONES ===
==== CONVICTIONS ====

==== LOYALTIES ====

== STATUS TRACKER ==
=== CURRENT STATUS ===
* '''Health:''' [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
* '''Instability:''' [/][/][/][ ][ ]
* '''Acclimation:''' 0
* '''Willpower:''' 5/5

=== COMBAT VALUES ===
* '''Initiative:''' 13
* '''Defense:''' 11
* '''Armor:''' 0/0
* '''Speed:''' 108(18 base)
* '''Perception:''' 5 Dice

=== ATTACK STATISTICS ===
* '''BASIC ATTACK''' - (Strength+Brawl+Specialty) = 7 dice
:* ''Accuracy:'' 0
:* ''Lethality:'' 0B
:* ''Penetration:'' 0
:* ''Timing:'' +0
:* ''Strength:'' 0

== POWERS ==
=== ADAPTATIONS ===

=== VARIATIONS ===
==== ANOMALOUS BIOLOGY ====

==== TELEKINESIS ====

==== CARAPACE ====

=== SCARS ===
==== CONSPICUOUS APPEARANCE ====

==== FROZEN HEART ====

==== DEPENDANCY ====

== INVENTORY ==

== CHARACTER ADVANCEMENT ==

Kracked Mynd/Forgotten and Scorned

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This article is in progress, but...
Eonhar is a (possible) Phoenix Lord originator. Colors are Green on Magenta.

==Fluffy Bits==
The Eonhar Craftworld Eldar apparently are in possession of what could possibly be the original Striking Scorpions Shrine and, having assumed they are, do their best to make up for past mistakes made by Arha. The Striking Scorpions contingent is small and is revered, but also watched by the rest of the Craftworld.

==Crunchy Bits==
Crunch goes here.

*Insert Crackers*

==External Links==
*Origin Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/15072853/
*Thread 2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/15080684/

[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]][[Category:Eldar]][[Category:/tg/ 40,000]]

Deathworld

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[[Image:Commubama.jpg|140px|thumb|right|The picture that started it all.]]
''Not to be confused with [[Death World]], a term for deadly planets in the universe of [[Warhammer 40,000]].''

{{Topquote|In a weird mirror Universe, the Hitler-Stalin pact was never broken, and the two dictators remained at an uneasy truce while the Wehrmacht swept through France, North Africa, and finally Great Britain. When the invasion of the North American continent began, Stalin finally intervened.
''Sixty years later, the United States are still contested.''
''Another uneasy truce begins to crumble as skirmishes begin to flare up at the Demarcation Line.''
''A promising young General, Comrade Obama of the Red Army, seeks to finally drive the Nazis back into the sea - for the motherland!''|Anon, swiftly turning the tide of the trolling}}

Like so many troll threads, it began with a simple image and one word: ISLAMABAMA. Pretty soon /tg/ had agreed that Commubama looked pretty badass and work began on a setting that would make Commubama a reality. A couple of threads later and the whole thing had evolved far beyond its humble beginnings to become something far more interesting and wide-ranging. The name's a bit of a placeholder, but it will do until a better one comes along.

Excellent proof of [[/tg/ gets shit done|/tg/'s ability to turn even the most blatant troll thread into something good and useful]].

==Background==
<span style="font-variant:small-caps"><center>I will tell you the truth of burning flames, and dying stars.
The truth of broken secrets, and unending emotions.

I will tell you the lies of the heart undying, and the mind unyielding,

the lies of the cold steel, and desperate logic.

This is a time of unending pain, and boundless hope.

Your species, as young as it is, stands at the edge of extinction.

You have summoned forces you cannot hope to comprehend, and yet you serve them willingly.

You fight your ancient enemies, and yet they are human, understandable.

Could it be you are only now realizing that your kind are endless in their evil?

Could it be that to serve what is alien, is preferable to falling to your own nightmares?

I hope you believe so child.

For that is the path you walk now.

~Source Unknown. Parts of this have been found scrawled as graffiti in almost every part of the world, in almost every known language.</center></span>

[[Grimdark|Deathworld roughly follows our own timeline, up until the Second World War. The Nazis begin their invasion of Western Europe, just as in our world, but for some undetermined reason, Hitler never made the fatal mistake of invading the Soviet Union. This allowed the Nazi war machine to consolidate its grip on Fortress Europe, as well as successfully invading Britain. The uneasy peace lasted up until both sides invaded America which had maintained its glorious isolation during the war in Europe. The Nazis now control the Eastern Seaboard and the Soviets control the West, with a large No-Man's-Land between them, devastated by the war between them. These two super-powers are once again in an uneasy peace, but tensions are high.

War back in Europe is prevented by the massive fortifications both sides have built up as neither side wishes to sacrifice the resources and manpower needed to break the other's defenses. The real battlegrounds are elsewhere, in South America and Africa, as well as in the contested central United States.]]

Worse yet, the Soviets and Nazis, despite their dehumanizing superscience and demonology, are amongst the only powers able to truthfully claim that they are ruled by humans. Their opponents, supposedly "free" are ruled by alien horrors, spirits, Fae beings, and the long-dead, if not some combination of the above. Will humanity enslave itself to undo these evils? Or will it be obliterated in the fires of hell and atom?

The setting diverges at around 1940ish, and present-day for the setting is 2020ish.

==Nations of Deathworld==

===Nazi Germany===
By now, the Third Reich is well into its 80 years of rulership. During the conquest of Europe, many in the Nazi High Command turned to questions of the occult and Demonology to grant them the advantage of their conventional foes. The Karotechia, the Ahnenerbe, and the Thule Society all grew in importance as they mastered the arts of summoning Demons to do their will, as well as the science of the old magicks that had long been forgotten.

Now, most of the old High Command is gone, supplanted by the growing Magocracy. Hitler is still alive but has long since succumbed to insanity and now serves as a figurehead to be trotted out for public appearances but is otherwise locked away for his own safety. He's still incredibly popular and is viewed as the Father of the Nation, but real power now lies with the Mages. Life for the average pure Aryan citizen is fairly good in the Reich, but the same cannot be said for the less pure members.

Races like the Italians and French are treated as second-class citizens, with access to the best resources like education, health-care, and so on restricted to the Aryans. They can still serve with the Army but in less important positions. Magically talented members of these races are refused proper training, but instead are often lobotomized and used as hosts for the Demon-Human hybrid soldiers that strike fear into the hearts of Soviet soldiery.

The Untermenschen are kept around mostly as a slave class, interred in work camps. They are often used by Sorcerers to pay the cost in souls that their Demonic Allies demand. The Jews in the Reich have almost been entirely wiped out.

In battle, the Nazis use a combination of tactics. Some conventional weaponry is still used, but it is mainly restricted to the low-quality penal and conscript units. The real power of the Nazi army lies in its Battle-sorcerers and their demonic allies. Some of these possess tanks and weaponry, improving their effectiveness, some serve as spies and others simply manifest themselves to rip and tear. These are aided by the aforementioned Demon-Human Hybrids, terrifying combinations of man and magic can tear through an entire Soviet infantry battalion.
====Notable characters====
* Hitler
* Sorcerer-general Kaiser Wilhelm III

====units====
* Penal legion troopers
* Nazi conscripts
* Battle-sorcerers (available as unit or character)
* 1st-8th circle demon troops
* Demon engines (panzer tanks/transports)
* Demon-human hybrids (available as unit or character)
* 1st-8th circle greater demons (available as unit or character)
* Specialist units (panzershreck troopers, flamethrowers, heavy weapons squad)
* Luftwaffe bomber planes. (Human piloted or demon controlled)
* Artillery
* Lords of the 1/8th circle (character/warlord)
* Sorcerer-general (character/warlord)
====Notable Nazi Cities====
'''Berlin''' - Still the Capital. Overall, a rather nice place, certainly inoculated against the horrors elsewhere in Europe.

'''New York''' - The Nazi's took New York during their invasion of the East Coast. However, it was always their weakest link and a center for revolutionaries and rebels. Constant military incursions and high crime levels have left it a grim place. It is still fairly heavily populated but has a heavy Military Police presence, known for its brutality.

'''Philadelphia''' - Philadelphia was one of the first cities the Nazis conquered, and so quickly became its head quarters. As time went on this "temporary" HQ became the main heart of the Nazi war effort in the Americas, but High command is currently in the process of building a city specifically to act as regional HQ, that being New Berlin.

'''New Berlin''' - New Berlin is the smallest city within this list, at least in size, but what it represents is massive. It is being built over the ruins of the former American capital of Washington DC, and acts as a symbol fo the Nazis victory over the former giant. It is still in the process of being built and is planned for it to become the new administrative centre for Nazi-controlled America. But for now, it is merely a symbol until the day it is built to the standard the High command wishes for it to be.

'''Detroit''' - "The City of Demons" - The city is essentially a massive production system, used to fuel the fighting against the Constitutionalists and Canada. Portrayed as a modern factory city, it is in reality little more than a death camp, undesirables sent there to work to their death, their blood fueling daemonic rituals. Now it is captured and held by constitutionalist forces during the rather short great zombie war.

'''Toronto''' - Technically owned by the Nazis. However, it is a but a husk of a city, having been nuked, and a center of brutal fighting.

'''London''' - The once-mighty heart of the British Empire had fallen. Now replaced by a city filled with propaganda and symbols of Aryan pride. But underneath the shining streets and the propaganda covering the walls, a dark force wanders the city streets at night. Jack the Ripper, an ancient legend within the city, was awakened, and since his awakening has been slaughtering Nazi officials during the dark misty nights, leaving pro-British propaganda. Because of this squads of Nazi sorcerers have been sent into the streets, either to capture the spirit of Jack or to banish him.

===The Soviet Union===

Without the Nazi's skill in magic, the Soviet Union has turned instead to good ol' Soviet Science to provide them with a worthy counter. The vast industrial giant strip-mines massive quantities of metal and ore to mass-manufacture the fruits of their research: massive, nuclear-powered tanks and power armour. While the core of the army is still its massed infantry, the way is led by these clanking, smoke-belching engines of destruction.

The Soviet Union is now led by a aging Valery Sablin who overthrew the gestalt mind constructed from Stalin, Lenin and Trotsky that is described as “The Abomination of Science that corrupts the ideas of The Long Dead Revolutionary Fathers and defiles their name and body.” by Sablin during a mutiny of his in 1975 in where he delivered a inspiring Speech in Leningrad, which began “The Second Red October” in which the old government collapsed in a mere month under the weight of it’s crimes.

Soviet society is split between three areas, the centralised administration cities (Moscow, Vladivostok, New Stalingrad on the West Coast), the hardworking industrial cities (Magnitogorsk etc) and the slow paced collective farm villages spread across the Union providing bountiful foods. The central cities are towering piles of steel and concrete molded into beautiful neo-Soviet style architectures, an image of the communist utopia Sablin dreams of one day the world will become. Beneath the streets is a vast support network of tunnels that used to be filled with oppressed workers toiling in the undercity to supply the world above. Where the Thieves World was literal, as are the "roofs" criminal gangs who operated under. Now most of it has been converted to underground metros to provide accessible public transport to the populace, though much is kept as is in a stark reminder of what happens when science goes too far. Industrial cities are somewhat worse off, practicality out weights aesthetics here. With most being geared towards war and necessity production with the ever looming threat of war, though some towns have been slowly shifted towards luxury production with the uneasy peace being kept. The morale however is kept up by ever shortening work hours with the arrival of automation and the promise of rewards for exceeding quotas. The collective farms vary more, but tend to be small and efficient. The pace of life is slow there, with perhaps some of the shortest working hours in the union during particular seasons. It is a safe and perhaps comfortable life; but also not a life for the ambitious, with little prospect of climbing up the social ladder beyond joining the local Soviet for those who choose to spend their entire life there.

====Notable comrades====
* Comrade General Secretary Valery Sablin
* Comrade Marshall Dmitry Yazov
* Comrade First Secretary of The Pacific SFSR Bernie Sanders
* Comrade Vladimir Putin, Chairman of The KGB
* Comrade Father Alexander Men

====units====
* Soviet infantry squad
* Scouts
* Snipers (available as unit or character)
* Tanks
* Artillery
* Red chaplain (character that can stand alone or be attached to most other squads)
* Combat medics (available as unit or character that can be attached to most other squads)
* Power armor squad
* Mech suits (available as unit or character)
* Engineer (character that can stand alone or be attached to most other squads)
* Moving castle (battle fortress superheavy tank)
* Soviet comrade-general (character/warlord)
* Master of engineering (character/warlord)

====Notable Soviet Cities====
'''Moscow''' - Capital

'''Vladivostok''' - Larger than in our timeline due to increased Soviet Pacific presence. Underwent a massive boom during the early years of the American invasion.

'''Novo Stalingrad''' - Formerly the city of San Francisco. The administrative center of Soviet America.

'''Novo Arkhangelsk''' - Formerly Anchorage (Sitka was rather too small to take up the title again). Local administrative center for Alaska.

'''Novo Sevastopol''' - Formerly Los Angeles. Smaller than in our timeline due to focus on building up Novo Stalingrad, and due to stricter immigration. A center of Soviet Propaganda Film Production and retirement destination for loyal elderly servants of the Soviet Union. Disneyland was still built but is rife with Communist Propaganda.

===The Constitutionalists===
One of the newest players on the world stage, but in a way also one of the oldest. The Constitutionalists are all that's left of free America, formed by exiled dissidents from both Nazi and Soviet-occupied areas as well as the survivors that eke out an existence in the ruined No-Man's land between them. They worship the Founding Lords, Presidents of time gone past, who serves as an ideal of what America should be. But they are not just an ideal.

The Constitutionalists have mastered the art of necromancy, and with it, they hope to gain the advantage over the hated invaders, Soviet and Nazi alike. Preaching "Equality in Death", they have an ever-growing army of the dead building in the empty spaces of America. Society is fairly strictly divided, with Slaves at the bottom, these are the reanimated corpses of Nazi and Soviet soldiers, those who did not choose Undeath but had the Gift forced upon them. Above them are the still-living members, often used as spies and infiltrators, and rewarded with citizenship if they serve well. Most sentient Constitutionalists have become Citizens, intelligent Undead with full rights who lead the masses of Slaves. At the top of Constitutional Society are the Founding Lords.

The Founding Lords are (or were) the dead presidents of times gone past. Some are still sleeping beneath the Earth, and their resurrection is a priority. Others now stalk the Earth, their minds warped from decades, even centuries, of death. The Lords are massively powerful, gigantic eldritch corpse-gods, the very sight of which is enough to drive any rational man mad.

Another major aspect of the Constitutionalist survival in 2020 is VATO - Voodoo-Atlantic Treaty Organization.

The Voodoo-Atlantic Treaty Organization was created in 1962, after the Cuban Voodoo Crisis. The undead Fidel Castro, wary of Nazi encroachment into the Caribbean, worked with American necromancers and prepared "Operation Locust" - an undead plague that was poised to sweep over the Eastern United States. The weapon was provided by the USA. The knowledge that the shipment had been made lead to an international incident, in which the Nazis eventually backed down (behind the scenes, they determined that they could finish the confrontation after developing a cure to Operation Locust and there was no benefit in playing their hand instantly). As per the agreement, Nazi military forces removed their Mobile Magic Summoners from Hispaniola and parts of Africa.

In the wake of this incident, the USA and Cuba found themselves with similar goals. They signed the VATO agreement - they would share information, both intelligence wise and of newly developed voodoo rituals. As well, they would try to protect each other's interests in the Caribbean. Not long after, the newly independent Republic of Hispaniola was admitted to the VATO pact and, not long after that, the rising UAR (United African Republic). Together, these four nations were able to muster a response to overwhelming Nazi and Soviet Global Power."

VATO still exists as of 2020 and proved to be a larger problem than the Nazis and Soviets anticipated. Both the USA and UAR developed their necromantic rituals at a much faster rate than expected, and the UAR had a swiftly burgeoning economy. The Nazi cure for Operation Locust was never developed, as newer weaponry and tactics soon replaced it.

One of the most monumental moments of the VATO Alliance was the exchange in which the UAR gave the USA a plethora of badly needed ancient voodoo secrets, and in return, as a gesture of goodwill, the USA shipped over the Founding Lord Monroe. Monroe's "Monroe Doctrine", which was originally a statement of stopping colonialism in the Americas, found a remarkable reinvention in Africa and Monroe is worshiped there with great reverence, his defensive Magical abilities being of great asset to the UAR. VATO is also instrumental in ensuring that none of the other factions reaches a total dominance of the Mid-Atlantic oceanic routes.

The final part of the Constitutionalists, and likely their best kept secret, is the location of their final living population. These people are not necromancers, nor undead in anyway, these are the few that still hold loyalty to America and still have their lives. It is unknown to all but a few exactly how many people still survive, or if the rumours of a still "pure" American population are merely used to keep the remaining necromancers from falling into despair.

What is known, is that if they do exist then these populations are likely so well guarded it would be easier to kill every single founding father than ever get near to these populations, as these may very well be the only remaining Americans of whom will rebuild America if the Constitutionalists win.

But for now, only the fathers may know if this is all false, or if it is true.

====units====

====Notable Constitutionalist Cities====
'''Vegas''' - The West Coast is almost all Soviet controlled but the City of Sin is now the City of Death. The undead forces of the Constitutionalists defend the Hoover Dam and Vegas Proper, requiring no supplies other than ammo and fresh bodies. The Soviet attackers are no where near as lucky; heat exhaustion is almost as lethal as the Tesla weaponry employed by Constitutionalist shock troopers, and dehydration is a near endless problem. Yet the Soviets fight on, for taking Vegas is a blow against the heart of Capitalism itself.

'''New Orleans''' - The city of New Orleans is the largest that the Constitutionalists have. It is home to various schools of necromancy as well as several vital parts of infrastructure to the ongoing war effort.

It is currently a high priority target for the Nazi Forces due to its value, but it is defended ferociously by hordes of undead and the ancient Necromancer teachers who reside within the city, leaving the land between the city and its Nazi enemies a barren wasteland of death and demons.

'''Denver''' - The current capital of the Constitutionalists, and one of the most important cities within the constitutionalists current holdings, as it contains almost the brain of the Constitutionalists war effort, as while Vegas acts as its heart, and New Orleans acts as its muscles, Denver acts as the brain that controls the other parts of the body.

====Active Founding Fathers====
'''Washington''' - The Founder

'''Jefferson''' - The Apostle

'''J. Adams''' - Judgement

'''J.Q. Adams''' - Prophet

'''Monroe''' - The Watcher (Currently in the UAR.)

'''Jackson''' - "Dread Hickory" (Jackson was a failed summoning, turning into a man-treant hybrid and going on a path of bloodshed still referred to as the "Trail of Tears")

'''T.Roosevelt''' - The King of Beasts

'''Lincoln''' - The Ancient One

'''Grant''' - The War Grinder

'''F.D.Roosevelt''' - The New Death (The Final Founding Father)

'''Cleveland''' - The Dark Horse

'''Taft''' - Scimitar

'''Coolidge''' - Silent Death

'''Wilson''' - Spear of Justice

===Free Britain===
As Europe falls under the bootheels of the Nazis, Britain prepares for an invasion from the continent. With the humiliation at Dunkirk fresh in memory, the Army prepares to dig in and fight to the last as the Battle of Britain erupts in the air. Britain holds out for a good while, but in the end, without a second front to worry about, Operation Sea Lion begins and German troops begin landing on the south coast. The Army falls back to its defensive positions, but they can only hold out for so long and slowly, but surely, Britain too falls. The German forces are assisted by Fifth Columnists led by Oswald Moseley, who the Germans will soon appoint Governor of the British Isles.

The British Government had already seen this defeat coming though, and had begun work on a plan to keep the most important bits of Britain out of the reach of the Germans. Work had begun on a gigantic nuclear submarine, to evacuate the Royals, the heads of the Army and government as well as all the necessary support for them. As Britain fell, the submarine was made ready and, with the help of the last of the British Navy, managed to break free of the Nazi blockade and out to the open ocean.

But this was not the only preparation that had been made. The impact of the increasingly apparent defeat on the King was particularly acute. He became increasingly withdrawn and depressed, and his daughter Elizabeth, was desperate for some way out of their grim situation. It was then she was approached by a young stage magician named Jasper Maskelyne.

Maskelyne, an illusionist who had assisted in the construction of defences with decoys and cunning ruses, in a quest for real magic, had discovered an ancient book, detailing the Fae-spirits that used to live in Albion, and how they might be contacted and dealt with. He had spoken to one of these entities, and was promised the protection of the heart of Britain, if he could only obtain the consent of a Princess. The young Elizabeth was eager to hear of any solution, and together, she and Maskelyne made a deal with the Fae. Elizabeth was somehow possessed by the entity, and Maskelyne made immortal to serve under It, but the heart of the Nation was protected in the submarine which miraculously made it past the German Navy.

British society soon changed aboard the Submarine. King George died, and the Elizabeth-thing rose to the throne, taking Prince Phillip as an easily controlled husband. Parliament dissolved into insignificance, splitting up into various committees and sub-committees dedicated to the running of various aspects of the ship. The British government-in-exile was refused access to the Isolationist USA, and even its former colonies turned against it, especially as Nazi and Soviet influence spread round the globe. The submarine settled into its new existence.

Nowadays, there's effectively three main power blocs. The Queen is effectively in charge. The civilian government keeps most of the ship running, clamping down on dissent as much as it can. The Army is basically all that's left of the Armed Forces, the Navy mostly being destroyed in the evacuation, and the Air Force mostly being subsumed into the Army. The Queen has worked her Fae-magics over a substantial proportion of those in charge to keep them subservient. The Queen's magic serves as the Submarine's protection too, shielding it from hostile eyes. She also blesses certain of her servants, granting them boons that mainly manifest as Fate bending to make them safer, or more likely to succeed.

There is resistance to her regime though. From within, disaffected Republican terrorists plot to remove the Queen entirely, and deep in the slums and food vats, there's plenty of places to hide. And outside of the bounds of civilisation, there are the near-feral Scottish tribes, hidden deep in the ventilation systems and sewers. Originally only a small hardcore of Scottish Nationalists, their numbers have grown over the years, from disaffected Republicans or just people who wandered down the wrong corridor at the wrong time.

Outside of the submarine, the most commonly sighted Free British are commandos, raiding undefended sea-ports for the resources they need, or for bizarre and seemingly mundane items that the Fae Queen demands. The liberation of their Isles is the top priority, but no-one knows what plans the Queen has made in secret, not even Maskelyne.

===Australia===
Crushed by the Soviet War Machine, Australia would have been a non-entity, had it not been for the discovery of an amazing new power source. Though it could not be developed in time to stop the power-armoured Soviets driving deep in Australia, those who were able to flee managed to establish a base in Antarctica, powered by their new engine and protected by a powerful technological shield that hampered scrying attempts as well as disguising the growing polar city. Amongst the other nations, New Australia is often regarded as nothing but a myth.

Deciding that their low numbers meant that Physical resistance to the Super-powers would be impossible, the Australians have withdrawn into themselves, focussing on their own technological development. They were the first nation to put a man on the moon, and have a satellite in LEO. Cybernetic body modification is a fairly common way to maintain the dwindling population. It is the stated goal of the Australian government to build a base on the moon to which the population could be evacuated. The Australians may be safe now, and their custom-built technology gives them an individual advantage, but were anyone to make a serious effort to wipe them out, they wouldn't stand a chance.

===Japan===
Japan never attacked Pearl Harbor, and never dragged the US into WWII, guaranteeing Nazi/Soviet victory across the world. The Japanese were eventually pushed back on all fronts, and their Fascist military leaders lost favor with the people and the Imperial Family's primary branch. Following the examples of the few ties they had left with the Nazi occultists, the Japanese found their roots in sun-worship and Shintoism, rebuilding ancient traditions long lost after the mass conversion to Buddhism long ago.

The Japanese are a warrior culture to it's core. Every generation wishes to die gloriously in combat, to join the host of ancestral warrior spirits that all Japanese warriors are capable of calling upon. The longer the line, and the more powerful the spirits, the greater the power of the items and person those spirits are summoned to "possess".

Japan is guarded by the Kamikaze, a wall of hurricanes that prevent any and all intrusion onto their sacred homeland. These massive storms abate only long enough for their ships to either exit or enter the isles. Going forth to raid and pillage the world beyond, or to return with their plunder. Only a few traders are permitted past, and only at designated times, and all attempts to infiltrate the lands have been thwarted. Neither the mightiest of German Demon U-Boats nor Soviet Nuclear Warships find passage as they flounder and sink in the wrath of the Kamikaze.

===China===
China is a nation divided. On one side, the immortal chair man Mao, now only a head kept alive by soviet technology, leads his massed Clone armies to conquer the rest of the once united nation. On the other side, the zombified Chiang Kai-Shek, kept alive with a combination of Nazi demonology, Constitutionalist voodoo, and Daoist alchemy, leads the Nationalist forces, comprised of the ancient heroes of China summoned into Terracotta warriors, Geomancers influencing the very energies of the earth and predicting the future through hexagrams, and Daoist martial artists, such as the super-human Bruce Lee, hold the line against the never ending cloned communist armies.

===United African Republic===
Liberia formed the center of the United African Republic, a member of VATO that is the one solid, major ally of the Constitutionalists, who shipped the corpse of Monroe to Monrovia to aid them. The UAR resists Nazi incursions with a mix of voodoo, necromancy and guerilla warfare, as well as Monroe. Influenced by Constitutionalist culture and ideas. Likely comprises of the modified borders of nations of Benin, Burkina Faso, Cape Verde, Ivory Coast, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Liberia, Mali, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Togo. Capital is Monrovia, largest city is Lagos. Has a population of roughly 400,000,000 in 2020. Has zombie legions to rival the Constitutionalists.

The UAR was founded in 1960, after about a decade of Nazi encroachment across the Sahara. Though the Nazis were occupied with other areas, particularly in America, many leaders in the threatened area realized the importance of banding together. Practitioners of Voodoo, inspired by the stories of Constitutionalist Necromantic resistance, began amassing their own hordes to hold back the Nazis. The formation of the UAR was sparked by the rise of the Republican groups in Nigeria and Liberia, who overthrew the current governments, taking much of their rhetoric from the American Revolution. This movement swept West Africa, culminating in the union of all affected states, with the official founding in 1960. The UAR joined VATO in 1966, which began the "Atlantic Voodoo Connection", a general sharing of necromantic knowledge from West Africa, the Caribbean and the Southern United States.

===Canada===
Canada is divided into four parts. The Soviet Owned West, the Nazi Owned East, the Ghost-Waste South and the Loyalist North. The Ghost-Waste South is also noted for the masses of Uranium in Saskatchewan. The Loyalist North, officially still called the "Dominion of Canada" is the true Canada - the True North Strong and Free.

The Loyalist North was created after WWII. The Canadian Government accepted elements of the British Government that did not go onto the Submarine. The Canadian Prime Minister at the time, William Lyon Mackenzie-King, attempted to make a deal with Natives to raise angry spirits to defend the nation from Soviet and Nazi invasion. This went worse than planned, with vast sections of the land that was trying to be protected becoming flooded with ghosts and other horrors. However, there were enough competent Shamans and determined fighters to hold the Northern parts of Canada - the places so frozen to make invasion difficult. The population of Canada was given a small boost by disaffected British citizens off of the submarine - this has had the effect, however, of souring relations between the Free British and the Dominion of Canada. The current capital of the Loyalist North is Churchill, Manitoba. Though not originally named after Winston Churchill (though actually it was named after his ancestor), a large statue of Churchill stands in the middle of the town, commemorating his sacrifice and stubborn resistance. Churchill itself would not be recognizable as the town it is today - it is not a village of hundreds but a bustling city of thousands, with distinctive Arctic architecture - and mighty walls all about it. To beat the frigid climate, a good deal of the city is constructed around underground tunnels. Other important cities include Yellowknife, Frobisher Bay and Whitehorse.

The key weapon in Canada's arsenal are the native spirits they have bound to their service. These spirits are exceptionally dangerous, but also very powerful. The North West Mounted Police are one of the main militaristic forces, the regular military having been decimated and requiring time to rebuild. The Canadian Government bargained for the Mounties to train under a cabal of Native Shamans. Today Mounties are the elite Scouting and Defense force of a swathe of territory too large for a regular force to defend. They bind spirits to use as steeds and weaponry. Though the Mounties are few, these spirits allow them to travel enormous distances quickly, and take on forces larger than themselves, thus allowing them to be perfect guards of the North.

==Possible Inclusions==
Some nations have not had background fluffed up for them to an adequate extent.

===Caribbean Nations===
The Cuban Revolution ousted a Nazi-Sympathetic government, and installed an Undead Fidel Castro into power. Cuba is now a member of an Alliance with Liberia and the Constitutionalists, all of them united by their desire for freedom and use of voodoo. It divides the Caribbean with Hispaniola.

At some point, Haiti and the Dominican Republic united to form the Republic of Hispaniola. It divides the Caribbean with Cuba and is a tacit ally of the Constitutionalists, and is a major center for voodoo research.

Jamaica and Puerto Rico are also independent and make up smaller member states of VATO.

===Finland===
Ghostly freedom fighters that make life a living hell for their Soviet Occupiers. Perhaps even they are ghosts.The White Death was captured by the Soviets but escaped, carrying Soviet biotechnology in him. Now whenever the previous White Death dies, the White Death implant is transferred to a new soldier - creating an immortal sniper that strikes fear into the hearts of the Soviets.

===The Jews===
An underground fighting force, using Khabbalism and a network of golems to act and pass messages, as well as attack their enemies. They seek to overthrow their oppressors by carefully searching for the name of God, which was once intoned before the Ark of the Covenant in the Temple of David in ages past.

===India===
Newly freed from British rule, India rapidly fell under the control of the Soviet Union(Or the Nazis), but armed resistance there makes ruling hard. They might possibly have supernatural assistance(Hinduism or even pre-Aryan deities notable, if someone remembers this business...).

===The Mythics===
Beings like Vlad Tepes, King Arthur, Jack the ripper, and uncle sam (undead) who derive power from the local legends of their homelands. They return to defend them, but are locked into their traditional borders, unable to leave them. Having little power beyond the ability to terrorize the oppressor's forces, they grow in power daily, from the fear of their enemies and the hope of those they defend. Should they ever gain an army of loyal followers, they may even be able to go beyond their own borders.

===United Arab League===
Protected by Djinn against Nazis and Soviets. Allows Jews to hide in Jerusalem. Is very traditionally religious compared to the other factions. Is fairly tolerant of Jews, Christians and any monotheists, but is very intolerant of the daemonic and communism. Considers itself the "Last Godly Land" left on Earth.

===South Africa===
Important Ally of Nazis. Much larger.

===Argentina===
Also Important Ally of Nazis. Lets Nazis build a large military installation on the Falklands. Annexes Uruguay in 1973, Chilé in 1975 and Paraguay in 1989.

===Oceania===

Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines are now a hotbed of pirates. A dichotomy of trade cities of fantastic wealth, and the scum of the ocean. Singapore is now a wretched hive of scum and villainy, as well as obscene wealth, being the "entry" port to the wealth and danger of Oceania.

===New zealand===
Allies with great britan, thankfully too far out of the way to bother being attacked by nazis, soviets, or americans. but japan is their greatest threat. They have a large navy mostly made out of loyal pirate crews, english garrison, and merc ships. and a few fleets made just out of retrofitting civilian ships with weapons.

===old austrailia===
Old austrailia is a wreck. gangs and clans of savage warriors on crude vehicles speed across the outback. And austrailan wildlife has mutated so much that it has become unrecognizable. Most of austrailia is ruled by savage warlords and their legions of insane followers driving their madcap vehicles that some say are more deadly then their primitive appearance may suggest.

==Timeline==
'''-1940'''

-Divergence. Operation Sealion Begins. What would be a terrible and failed plan in our timeline begins to succeed.

'''-1941'''

-Conquest of Britain Complete. Royal Family and other flee on the Submarine.

'''-1942'''

-While on training exercises, a good chunk of the American Pacific fleet vanishes. An infuriated government searches for Japanese, Nazi or Soviet involvement but can find none.

'''-1943'''

-The "Oak Ridge Disaster" leads to a small nuclear explosion at the Oak Ridge facility in Tennessee. Public outrage over the damages devastates funding to the American nuclear program. In actuality, the explosion at Oak Ridge was due to soviet sabotage.

'''-1944'''

-A traitor in the American military plants a bomb at a conference, killing a good deal of American military leadership.

-Various eastern American cities, including New York, Boston and Washington are hit with unseasonably bad storms and rolling blackouts. The Great Atlantic Hurricane comes in worse than expected.

-America is infiltrated by "Forward Mage Battalion", a secret Nazi group of Mages who use their skills to get into the nation undetected. Various acts of sabotage are later attributed to them - the near total razing of Cleveland Ohio, attributed to a liquified gas explosion, was actually the work of a Nazi Pyromancer, while the mysterious death of the entire town of Mattoon, Illinois due to gas poisoning was actually the work of a Nazi Aeromancer, who would later carry out gas strikes in Chicago - Mattoon having been a "practice run."

'''-1945'''

-Nazi Invasion of Eastern USA and Canada Begins with the "Day of Infamy", a series of magically concealed strikes on the Eastern United States. In the first moments of the attack, the President is killed and various industrial areas of the nation crippled.

-Japanese abandon Manchuria and summon the Kamikaze - Divine Winds.

'''-1946'''

-Both Soviet and Nazi Forces converge on Australia. Exodus of Australians begins.

'''-1947'''

-Soviets Conquer India.

'''-1948'''

-Founding of the UAL.

-Canadian Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King, long fascinated with the afterlife, attempts a mass communion with native spirits. He is killed in the backlash, and the Ghost Wastes are created, but Loyalist Canada gains pacts with the fearsome Northern Spirits.

'''-1949'''

-Australia is nuked into oblivion, neither Soviets nor Nazis able to get a firm hold on it and opting for denial instead. Shortly before this, the Australians finished their Antarctic community.

'''-1950'''

-Soviet Invasion of Western USA and Canada Begins.

'''-1951'''

-Governor of California sides with Soviet forces. San Francisco is renamed New Stalingrad and made capital of territory.

'''-1952'''

-Soviets and Nazis unleash nukes across Ghost Wastes and various parts of middle U.S.

'''-1953'''

-The Year of the Dead. All across the Constitutionalist territory, the dead from the nuclear blasts rise up and attack the Soviet and Nazi aggressors. Washington is summoned as the first Founding Father. Between these two events, the Soviet and Nazi rush to conquer America is shockingly stalled.

'''-1956'''

-The Third Reich lands paratroopers in the UAL in an attempt to seize the Suez Canal for more Lebensraum. They are eventually repulsed, with reinforcements lacking due to the situation in America.

'''-1960'''

-UAR is formed.

'''-1962'''

-Cuban Voodoo Crisis. USA and Cuba sign VATO agreement.

'''-1963'''

-Soviets Invade Finland - "The Finland War" begins

'''-1966'''

-UAR joins VATO

'''-1969'''

-Australians make first Moon Landing.

'''-1973'''

-Nazi sympathetic leader Pinochet takes over Chilé and organizes annexation into Argentina.

-Soviets begin to pull out of Finland

'''-1975'''

-Finnish Communist Government is overthrown.

-The Events of “The Second Red October” takes place.

'''-1979'''

-Nazi forces in Iran begin an invasion of Afghanistan, coordinated with an internal Coup that leads to a Nazi-Friendly (or at least Mage-Friendly) government.

-Former Headsman and Assassin for the Queen, Margaret Thatcher, a.k.a. The Iron Lady, is appointed Prime Minister of Free Britain.

'''-1982'''

-The British Submarine is spotted near the Fakland Islands. British Commandos attack the Argentinian held Island,which is home to a Nazi military base. The Argentinian military eventually drive the Commandos off, but not before the base has been ransacked. Nazi officials make no mention of what could have possibly been stolen.

'''-1989'''

-After nearly a decade of war, Nazi Forces withdraw from Afghanistan.

'''-1990'''

-The Gulf of Finland War. Soviet Forces attempt to occupy Helsinki after reportedly Finnish supported terrorist attacks in Estonia. The Nazi Baltic Fleet arrives in the area, however, and by the next year a Soviet withdrawal and ceasefire is arranged.

'''-1991'''

-A Soviet-Funded Communist Revolution breaks out in the Nazi-influenced state of Yugoslavia. The Nazi's begin an 8 year military operation of subduing the natives, as well as punitive ethnic cleansing and demonic sacrifices.

'''-2001'''

-The World Trade Centers in New York are destroyed in an unexpected terrorist attack. There is initial confusion over who the perpetrators are - Conspiracy theorists alternatively blame VATO, Canada, Finland, the UAL, the Cartels, the Swiss or New Zealand. The Nazi Government blames Soviet agents, supposedly tracing the terrorist movements back to Soviet Afghanistan and Pakistan. In response, they begin to mass troops in Iran and begin an assault eastwards. In reality, they have no clue who performed the attacks despite thorough investigation. In fact, it was the Australians, performing the attack for some unknown reason.

'''-2003'''

-The Soviet's engage the Second Finland War.

'''-2011'''

-The Soviets end the Second Finland War with no appreciable gains and severe losses.

'''-2020'''
-The Constitutionalist forces start the mass reanimation of corpses to create the new continental army. then production of Tesla weapons is almost doubled. the army gathers in vegas. the army is rumoured to number in the millions

'''-2021'''
-The army of the dead begin their march. without pause they march through the wasteland headed for novo Stalingrad. They travel at a snails pace compared to other armies, but they do not stop for the 250 days it took to arrive at their destination.

'''-2022'''
-The army reaches novo Stalingrad the soviet factories keep churning out ammo to fill the walking corpses with lead. The Russians may be running out of time.

'''-2023'''
-The army of the dead keeps reanimating the casualties of every day's battle over and over again. The soviets have dedicated much more manpower to the city, as well as several experimental weaponry that they are sure will turn the tide of battle. But over time the forces within the city are worn down as day after day bullet riddled corpses assault their lines once more.

'''-2024'''
After a series of tactical analysis by the Kremlin Kollective they decide to nuke the army of the dead that are still approaching from vegas but now they have only irradiated the zombie reinforcements. now they are even more dangerous. At this point the Kremlin considers the city lost, and so authorise a tactical nuclear strike. For 4 days no more corpses come out, and for 4 days there are no signs of any army. But on thee 5th morning, sightings of corpses, burnt and scarred by the radiation are reported, and so the Russians begin to prepare once more.

'''-2028'''
The army of the dead reaches Detroit. The army has picked up a few reinforcements along the way, including allies from Cuba and "Dread Hickory" leading the charge. The nazis soon realise that their magical devices are inefficient at mowing down the oncoming zombie hordes, and so have moved to more conventional weaponry to do the job and many new weapons have been created in an attempt to kill the zombie hordes quicker and more efficiently.

The constitutionalists although have developed a new weapon, a sort of virus that spread between mages. This "voodoo virus" will infect one mage, and then another, and another, and another, and for every mage it infects these mages will be compelled to summon more dead until their body and souls whither from the strain. As of now it has no cure.

'''-2029'''
Because of the "voodoo virus" infected nazi sorcerers reanimate any bodies that they can get near. Because of this Detroit comes close to annihalation, only barely being held onto by Nazi Forces. For now Detroit is under siege, but it still stands against the great hordes of undead outside its walls.

'''-2030'''
The Finnish "white death" strikes nazi and soviet targets in the frozen wastes of Finland.
Highly successful attacks carried out by a war-band of snipers and scouts lead by white death himself liberate several Finnish villages from nazi and soviet occupation. The local resistance efforts cant even rise to thank their ghostly saviors before they disappear back into the snowstorms from whence they came. This warband of ghosts continues their terror raids to free finland from its nazi and soviet oppressors.

'''-2032'''
The legend of Jack the ripper strikes fear into the hearts of Englishmen everywhere. But this time Jack's targets are nazi and soviet officers, spies, and soldiers who would dare attack Britain. The legend of jack the ripper of London becomes a symbol of national pride for England. He strikes several times, each attack more gory and brutal than the last. Next to Jacks victims there is always a patriotic message scrawled in blood next to the scene of the murder.

'''-2033'''
Japan's navy attacks new Zealand desperate for natural resources. A bloody naval battle with the civilian auxillary fleets results in heavy losses on the home front. But the enemy were no match for the English garrison ships and merc ships.

==Gallery==
[[File:Deathworld Map2.png|400px|Center|Thumb]]
[[File:Deathworld_Map.png|400px|Center|Thumb]]

==External Links==
*[http://deathworld.forumotions.com/forum.htm A mostly empty forum for discussion]

*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/8727153/ The thread that started it all]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/8730788 Second Thread]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/9039418 Third Thread]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/9044287 Fourth Thread]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/14948908/ Fifth Thread]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/21720746/ Sixth Thread]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/21746990/ Seventh Thread]
*[http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/21907531/ Eighth Thread]

[[Category:Homebrew Settings]]

Codex - Boyz of the Ztarz: /tg/'s 9th Edition

2026-05-12T05:30:31Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010250 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{stub}}
This Codex is made based on a small entry from an ork codex, in which it said that some tech-priests had launched a probe outside the galaxy and most of the living planets were populated by orks. The theory begins when it is believed that those orks have not had any difficulty in their expansion / evolution and could even have Kroorks for this very reason. The fact is that recent performances in the galaxy (the beast, Armageddon, Ghazi, the rift ...) have attracted a number of them. In this sense so good, if GW wanted to give relevance to the orks (HAHAHAHA) it would be a very plausible way. But what concerns us now is what would happen if some orks in the galaxy, for unknown and varied reasons, have felt that a waaagh is approaching, but it never finishes arriving, although its arrival is closer and closer.

This makes X warboss, mekz, weirdboyz, etc. decide to start your own adventures to get to that end WAAAGH or to pave the way for it. Each leader is unique, and they know they have to do something that other warboss haven't done to earn their favor, or even prepare to take power from those outside orks by force (bad idea). This is how an uprising has appeared, the orks of all corners go crazy and poor whoever tries to stop them, because now they fight for something beyond them, they fight for THE BOIZ OF THE ZTARZ.

==Uze your Head==
This codex is intended as a supplement to the future 9th edition Orko codex for fans with retired units and / or crazy conversions. For example, so that your warlord with a titanic chainsword does not "count as" big choppa. As a good supplement, you can use all units of the Codex Ork with 3 exceptions: 1 named characters 2 units that already appear in this Codex 3 units that consciously and intentionally abuse any abusive rules combo with the sole objective of winning (don't play a Codex fan for being competitive).

If you have a crazy idea of a unit or lore that has not been squeezed put it in the discussion room.

Any contribution or idea is appreciated ( will also leave some ideas open in case someone finds it interesting to expand them). This Codex is not intended to end, as there are always crazy ideas to convert to and all new models can become Ork models.

==Army Rules==
===Universal===
*'''Mob Rule :''' ''The more Orks in one place, the more the Waaagh! energy flows, and the more fearless they all become.''
::When using the Leadership characteristic of this unit, you can use either its own Leadership characteristic, or you can choose for the characteristic to be equal to either the number of models in the unit or the number of models in another friendly unit within 6" that has this ability.

*'''Dual Melee Weapons:''' <span style='color:green;font-size:100%'>'' Bekuz moar choppy iz alwayz a gud fing.''</span>
::If a model with this special rule is equipped with two of the same Melee weapon or Type of Melee weapon, you can add 1 to its Attacks characteristic.

*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!:''' ''Nothing aids accuracy like the simple expedient of firing so many shots that you just can’t miss.''
::Each time you roll an unmodified hit roll of 6 for an attack with a ranged weapon made by a model in this unit, that hit roll succeeds regardless of any modifiers. In addition, immediately make an additional hit roll against the same target using the same weapon. These additional hit rolls cannot themselves generate any further hit rolls. When firing a weapon with randomly determined characteristics (e.g. a bubblechukka), any additional hit rolls use the same characteristics as the hit roll that generated the additional hit roll. This ability does not affect weapons that automatically hit their target.

*'''’Ere We Go:''' ''Once a mob of Orks builds up a good head of steam, their sheer momentum carries them into the fight like a green avalanche.''
::You can re-roll charge rolls for this unit. When doing so, you can re-roll all or any of the dice.

===Detachment Rules===

lore
Intención

*'''Clan Kulturs – tittle''': descripción

*'''Warlord Trait - tittle''': rules

*'''Shiny Gubbin - tittle''': rules

*'''Stratagem - [[tittle] ( CP)''': rules.

*'''Psychic Power - title(WC )''': rules

'''Special Character'''

</div>

====Sons of Urlakk====
[[File:Ork-Warbosses-Prototipes-Geargutz-DOW3.jpg|100px|left|]] In the grim darkness of far future, the orks are more biggest.

The first Warboss who hear the external Waaaagh was Urlakk,warlord of Ullanor.It is known that he managed to create a device the size of a planet with an unknown objective, however Horus managed to defeat him before his plan was finalized. Since then that machine that the empire called Ullanor and later Armaggedon has been calling some great warboss, but that is another story ... Since the beginning of the third war of armaggedon the number of orks has increased with the objective of Urlakk, but A little distorted, they think that if they manage to have an empire with the highest concentration of orks and become big enough they will be able to attract that WAAAGH that I wanted to call Urlakk faster. Until now they have not managed to have a very large area of domain, but they have managed to increase the number and size of nobles, warboss and even warlords by unknown methods.

Intension: This list totally designed for fans of the conversions of the large size orks (with a lot of dakka, using demon princes ...) who said that Orruks Warboss are small.If you want to play a single huge guy that is capable of killing knights Imperials with ease, you go to the real Codex, if you want to play 6 use this. Obviously they can have screens to protect them, so they have to be resistant screens. If you want to overwhelm your enemy with real gitz, this is your klan.

*'''Clan Kulturs – Hardbody like me''': You subtract -1 from all wound rolls against Infantry, Bikes, or Monsters belonging to this klan. Additionally, characters belonging to this klan can perform Heroic Intervention at 6 "and you do not necessarily have to perform it against the nearest enemy unit. Also, if that character is monster or vehicle, it can do Heroic Intervention even if it is in Threat Range.

*'''Warlord Trait - We need more warboss''': In addition to this Warlord Trait, your MONSTER Warlord has one selected Ork Ztar Warlord Trait . If your Warlord is slain, you can immediately select another CHARACTER with more than 8 wounds in your army to take their place and generate a Warlord Trait for them (that one and another random). If the mission you are playing grants victory points for slaying the enemy Warlord, your opponent will only achieve that objective if all of the CHARACTERS with more than 8 wounds in your army have been slain.

*'''Shiny Gubbin - Fall arrezt belt'a''': Each time a unit attempts to charge against this Warlord, it subtracts -2 from the charge roll and cannot be targeted by Heroic Interventions. Also, when moving, loading or consolidating, ignore the vertical distance down.

*'''Stratagem - [[Green Ztorm] (1 CP)''': Select 1 Unit Ork Character, while any other friendly Ork Sons of Urlakk units are within 3” of this model, enemy models cannot target this model with ranged attacks.

*'''Psychic Power - Now it'z da faiz fight.(WC 7)''': If the power is manifested, all invulnerable saves and / or rules to ignore wounds (if they had any) from all units (friendly or enemy) at 18 "will only be effective with 6 unmodified.

'''Special Character'''

</div>

====Wazdakka followerz====
====WeirdWAAAAGH Zogwort====

====Mad Dakkers====

====Orkztealer Movement====
Ork hybrids of the Genestealer species have been detected for a long time, but normally they would not usually work if they were not Wild Orks. This changed since an unknown Warlord thought that the outer WAAAGH was approaching because they were chasing the Tyranids like it was a hunt. This idea made him lead hundreds of Ork ships of all sizes for several Hive Fleets with the intention of passing through the bioships and reaching the other side of the swarm ... It is not known exactly what happened next but it was not a digestion (at least totally). A few years later, bio-covered junk ships landed on dozens of worlds with Ork and Human populations. The surviving humans of those worlds have spoken of giant orks with biomorphs and suspicious alliances between xenos just before the arrival of the tyranids. There are numerous inquisitors of the Ordo Xenos (and Deathwach) who fear that this fusion between greenskin and tyranids could end up creating an enemy that no force will be able to stop in the not-so-distant future. Because, in a duel to decide the future of a Waaagh, who would bet on the 3-meter ork, being able to bet on the 3-and-a-half meter ork, skin with chitin reinforcement and 4 arms with some steely claws?
Intención

*'''Klan Kulturs – Infected Green Skin''': All models NO vehicle (included grechins and Squigs) wear 1 Zuzpizius arm (see Melee weapons). Additionally, all units in this klan wins the key faccion <tyranid> and all units psiquer wins the abilitie "Shadow in the warp" (See codex tyranid).

====Warp Gitz====
'''This is other tipe of Codex but need a mention'''

==Stratagems==
*'''name (x CP):''' ''description''
::effect

*'''The steps of the horde(3 CP):''' ''A wave of Orks roars and chants in unison, the ground shaking as if to break, as a million iron boots pass, echoing like the menacing roar of a storm about to break.''
::Use this stratagem at the start of the game, during the entire first turn all units on the field other than Monster, Fly or Vehicle count for all purposes as having moved. If any unit has a rule that allows it to act as if it hadn't moved, it can use it as normal.

*'''A Littla Puzh? (2 CP):''' ''Orks often annoy their subordinates or their enemies don't move into the fight as fast as they could ... Luckily you have a hammer.''
::Use this Stratagem at the beginning of your Shooting phase. Choose a {{W40kKeyword|Vehicle}} that is neither {{W40kKeyword|Titanic}} nor a {{W40kKeyword|Flyer}} and that is within 3" of a friendly {{W40kKeyword|Monster}} unit equipped with a weapon from the ''Hammer Weaponz'' list; Move that model up to 8" away, then it suffers 4 mortal wounds. In {{W40kKeyword|Vehicle}} units with more than one model, only chose one of them to be moved (the model still needs to follow unit coherency) and suffer damage. If a model is destroyed as a result of this Stratagem and has a special rule such as '''Explode''', that special rule is activated automatically, no need to roll a dice.

*'''We Dian't 'ear No Bell(3 CP):''' ''An ork is terrified of the idea of dying without a fight, so if they've been through a storm of gunfire, having their head blown off isn't going to stop them.''
::Use this stratagem at the beginning of any fighting phase. All your units that have reached Threat Rank that turn can fight on death if they haven't fought before during that phase.

==Warlord Traits==
*'''1: Tiz But a zcracht:''' ''Thiz monzta fokuzed on itz zurvival to live long enough to zee the real orks arrive, it will zurely die zooner, but it is not very likely that it will die today.''
::When receiving a wound roll 2 dice, with a 5+ on one of them ignore that wound. In case of self-inflicted injury by the Warlord controller, ignore this rule. Also if your Warlord loses its last wound on a 3+ it comes back to play with 2d3 wound but with 1 single attack profile.

*'''2: GHAZI IZ TRASH:''' ''This ork has heard what Ghazi is doing in the universe and is very angry that he believes that his waaagh is the largest, he will show him that not only is it not the largest in the universe, but that there are many orks above he in power. Obviously they do not know that Ghazi's actions are one of the things that accelerated the external WAAAGH the most.''
::<ORK> units within 6 "of your WARLORD may advance, fire assault weapons normally and charge. Also, if friendly <ORK> units have finished their movement phase within 6" of your WARLORD, they win that phase by + 1 to his attack attribute. Also, your WARLORD re-rolls to hit and wound against GOFF and BLACK LEGION.

*'''3: Ar thay tolking to me? THAY TALK TO ME!:''' ''This ork has received the amount of WAAAGH energies that is beginning to overflow their mind and body, unlocking the genetic code that makes them sensitive to the warp to live that energy.''
::Your warlord obtains the <psychic> key, also can manifest a power, negate a power, and knows 1 power from the psychic powers table, the power of its subfaction, and Smite.

*'''4: Oh no, he's coming ...:''' ''Orks normally don't like to be over-shot, but some, love to get through the powerful shots and see the faces of the poor fools who didn't know the obvious moral: Your Dakka iz inzufficient''
::Every time an enemy unit completes its firing sequence and one (or the only) of its targets was the Warlord, the Warlord can move as if it were in the movement phase, but with the obligation that it has to be equal or more near the unit that performed the firing sequence.

*'''5: name:''' ''description''
::effect

*'''6: name:''' ''description''
::effect

==Wargear==
===Melee Weapons===
*'''Burna Weaponz:(normal weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Burna (Melee)''' || Melee || Melee || user || -2 || 1 || This profile can only be use if this weapon's Flamma profile wasn't used in the previous Shooting phase.
|-
|'''Burna (Cutta)''' || Melee || Melee || user || -3 || 2 || This profile can only be used if this weapon wasn't used in the previous Shooting phase.
|}
*'''Weirdboy weapons:(normal weapons for psyquic units)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Weirdboy staff''' || Melee || Melee || +2 || -1 || 1D3 ||
|'''Plasma Vomit(melee)''' || Melee || Melee || +1 || -5 || 1D3 ||
|}
*'''Choppa:(normal weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Choppa''' || Melee || Melee || User || 0 || 1 || Each time the user fights, they can make one additional attack with this weapon.
|}

*'''Teef Squig:(exclusive weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Teef Squig''' || Melee || Melee || User || 0 || 1 || You can re-roll 1s to hit and wound if the target of this weapon isn't a {{W40kKeyword|Vehicle}}.
|}

*'''Variouz Hammerz:(monster weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Acceptable Hammer (Strike)''' || Melee || Melee || x2 || -4 || 6 || Enemy can't use invulnerable salvation if is a Infantery/Swarm/Beast unit.
|-
|'''Acceptable Hammer (Sweep)''' || Melee || Melee || User || -2 || 2 || Each hit with this weapon counts as 3 hits instead of 1.
|-
|'''Acceptable Hammer (Dazed Flail)''' || Strength” || Assault 2D6 || User || -1 || 2 || Blast. This weapon profile may be used even if the bearer is within 1” of an enemy model. In addition, this weapon automatically hits its target if the target is within 3” or less.
|}

*'''Zuzpiziuz Arm:(sub-faccion weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Zuzpiziuz Arm''' || Melee || Melee || User || -1 || 1 || Each time the bearer fights, it can make an additional attack with this weapon.
|}

===Ranged Weapons===
*'''Burna Weaponz:(normal weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Burna (Shoot)''' || 12" || Assault 1D3 || 4 || 0 || 1 || This weapon automatically hits its target.
|-
|'''Burna (Flamma)''' || 12" || Assault 1D6 || 4 || 0 || 1 || This weapon automatically hits its target.
|-
|'''Skorcha''' || 12” || Assault D6 || 5 || -1 || 1 || This weapon automatically hits its target.
|}

*'''Slugga:(normal weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Slugga''' || 12" || Pistol 1 || 4 || 0 || 1 || -
|}

*'''Rokkit Things:(normal weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Rokkit Launcha''' || 24” || Assault 1 || 8 || -2 || 3 || -
|}

*'''Weirdboy weapons:(normal weapons for psyquic units)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Plasma Vomit(Range)''' || 3+ || Pistol 4|| 6 || -5 || 1D3 ||
|}

*'''Sonic Things:(exclusive weapon)'''
::{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
|'''Guitar Kannon''' || 20” || Assault 1 || 6 || -2 || 1 || Add 1 to the hit roll when using this weapon, also targets cannot benefit from cover.
|-
|'''Epic Guitar Kannon''' || 20” || Assault 1d3 || 6 || -2 || 1d3 || Add 1 to the hit roll when using this weapon, also targets cannot benefit from cover.
|}

===Relics===
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

===Other Wargear===
*'''Eletric Shield:''' ''×××''
::obtains salvation invulnerable 4++
*'''Inestable Shield:''' ''×××''
::obtains salvation invulnerable 3++ but suffer 1 mortal wound in the final of comand fase

*'''Chappa shield:''' ''×××''
::obtains +1 in the salvation (not invulnerable).
*'''Chappa wall:''' ''×××''
::obtains +2 in his salvation (not invulnerable) in ranged attacs (not acumulables with other things) but if wear <Infantería> his movement is reduced 0" (Can charge and advance the normal form)

*'''Squig pet:''' ''Some veteran orks love to have a squig to order and kick. It can also be used in combat as a distraction to shooting. You don't become a veteran if others don't die ...''
:: Use on when that unit has been hit by a ranged weapon. Each time the unit loses a model, roll a D6. On a 2+, the unit does not lose a model and a squig pet is slain.

*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

==Boyz of the Ztarz Wargear List==

===x Equipment===
::-name - x pts.

==Units==
===HQs===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Warboss in mega-armour of Warboss====
This unit contains 1 Warboss in mega-armour of Warboss ('''Power Rating x''').It can include up to 1 more Warboss in mega-armour of Warboss ('''Power Rating +x'''), or up to 2 more Warbosses in mega-armour of Warboss ('''Power Rating +2x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Warboss in mega-armour of warboss|| 6" || 2+ || 5+ || 6 || 6 || 8 || 4 || 9 || 2+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
This unit must wear:
or 2 weapons of normal/vehicle weapons
or 1 weapon of monster/Titanic weapons.
After, this unit must wear 2 weapons of normal weapons.

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''I dont like thiz Nob:''' ''Usually Warboss kill their rivals as soon as possible, but in times of war, large numbers of Nobz often appear and grow too fast. After the end of the campaign, it will be decided who is the leader, but until then it is better that they act as a distraction.''
::During deployment, every model in this unit must be set up at the same time, though they do not need to be set up in unit coherency. From that point onwards, each model is treated as a separate unit.

*'''I want thiz:''' ''Who is going to say to a 3 m tall mushroom that it is stupid that he brought something for tanks? I will not do it. ''
::If wear vehicle or more big weapon rest 2" Of movement of warboss. If wear Titanic weapon rest 6" of movement of warboss.

*'''WAAAAGH:''' ''This is a classic battle cry, perfect for cheering up the boyz.''
::When this unit advance,friendly ORK STAR INFANTRY units within 6" of this model at the start of the Charge phase can charge even if they Advanced this turn.

'''Upgrades:'''
You can wear 1 Shield options.
You can wear 1 Squig options.
You can wear 1 war trophy.

'''Options:'''
You can add 1 melee normal weapon.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|Ork Star}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Ork}}, {{W40kKeyword|Warboss}}, {{W40kKeyword|Infantery}}, {{W40kKeyword|Character}}, {{W40kKeyword|Mega-armour}}

====Inestable weirdboy (more) ====
This unit contains 1 Inestable Weirdboy ('''Power Rating 6''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Inestable weirdboy || 8" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 5 || 5 || 4 || 10 || 6+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
This unit wear a Weirdboy staff

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''Waaagh! Energy:''' ''You know how work a weirdboy''
:: Add 1 to Psychic tests taken for this model for every 10 ORK models or 1 ORK monster(excluding GRETCHIN and Squigs) within 10" of it when the roll is made, to a maximum of +3. If the result of the test is 10+ this model immediately suffers Perils of the Warp.

*'''Plasma shield:''' ''The ork allows the Waaagh energy to exit from any part of its body in the form of a plasma field that protects it from any attack ... Yes, this is harmful.''
::If this model has add 2 to Psychic test for "Waaaagh! Energy", this model has a 4+ invulnerable save until its next psychic phase. In addition, this model can only lose a maximum of 2 wounds in each phase.

*'''It'wa nize whil itz lazted.:''' ''Being an ork who has given up his mind and body to the Waaagh energy usually has many problems, both for you and for others.''
::This unit never can be your WARLORD. In addition, this unit rest -1 in the remain wounds in the final of Psychic Fase. If this unit dies in any Psychic fase he always dies like he suffer Perils of the Warp. If any psychic Unit dies for his Perils of the warp of any manifested psychic powers, this unit dies like he suffer Perils of the Warp. This is accumulative.

'''Psyker:''' A Inestable Weirdboy can attempt to manifest two psychic powers in each friendly Psychic phase, and attempt to deny two psychic power in each enemy Psychic phase. It knows the Smite and two psychic powers from the Ork star powers table discipline or klan power.
'''Upgrades:'''

'''Options:'''
You can add 1 Plasma vomit

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|ORK STAR}}
*{{W40kKeyword|ORK}}, {{W40kKeyword|WEIRDBOY}}, {{W40kKeyword|INFANTERY}}, {{W40kKeyword|CHARACTER}},{{W40kKeyword|FLY}}, {{W40kKeyword|INESTABLE WEIRDBOY}}, {{W40kKeyword|PSYCHIC}}

====Big Mek Cybork====
This unit contains Big Mek Cybork ('''Power Rating 5''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Big Mek Cybork || 5" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 4 || 4 || 3 || 8 || 3+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
A Big Mek in Mega Armour is a single model armed with a two normal weapons.

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Big Mekaniak:'''
:: At the end of your Movement phase, this model can repair a single friendly ORK VEHICLE model within 3". That model regains D3 lost wounds. A model can only be repaired once per turn.

*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Warboss====
This unit contains 1 Warboss ('''Power Rating x''').It can include up to 1 more Warboss ('''Power Rating +x'''), or up to 2 more Warbosses ('''Power Rating +2x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Warboss || 6"|| 2+ || 5+ || 6 || 5 || 7 || 4 || 9 || 4+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
This unit must wear:
or 2 weapons of normal weapons
or 1 weapon of vehicle/monster/Titanic weapons.
After, this unit must wear 2 weapons of normal weapons.

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''I dont like thiz Nob:''' ''Usually Warboss kill their rivals as soon as possible, but in times of war, large numbers of Nobz often appear and grow too fast. After the end of the campaign, it will be decided who is the leader, but until then it is better that they act as a distraction.''
::During deployment, every model in this unit must be set up at the same time, though they do not need to be set up in unit coherency. From that point onwards, each model is treated as a separate unit.

*'''I want thiz:''' ''Who is going to say to a 3 m tall mushroom that it is stupid that he brought something for tanks? I will not do it. ''
::If wear vehicle or more big weapon rest 2" Of movement of warboss. If wear Titanic weapon rest 6" of movement of warboss.

*'''WAAAAGH:''' ''This is a classic battle cry, perfect for cheering up the boyz.''
::When this unit advance,friendly ORK STAR INFANTRY units within 6" of this model at the start of the Charge phase can charge even if they Advanced this turn.

'''Upgrades:'''
You can wear 1 Shield options.
You can wear 1 Squig options.
You can wear 1 war trophy.

'''Options:'''
You can add 1 melee normal weapon

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|Ork Star}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Ork}}, {{W40kKeyword|Warboss}}, {{W40kKeyword|Infantery}}, {{W40kKeyword|Character}}

===Troops===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Nobz====
This unit contains 1 Nob Bozz and 4 Nobz ('''Power Rating x'''). It can include up to 5 more Nobz ('''Power Rating +x'''), up to 10 more Nobz ('''Power Rating +2x''') or up to 15 more Nobz ('''Power Rating +3x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Nob || 5" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 4 || 2 || 3 || 8 || 4+
|-
| Nob Bozz || 5" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 4 || 2 || 4 || 8 || 4+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
*Choppa
*Slugga

'''Special Rules:'''

*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''I WANT TO BE DA BOZZ!:''' ''More muscle in the same zone.The nobz start to fight with other nobz,this made that cant coordinate well...''
::If this unit contains 15 or more models, it can't advance, fell back or use stratagems in this unit. Additional, this unit suffer 2 mortal wounds in the final of your command fase.
*'''Kalm damn or we krunch you:''' ''They are musculous and they will desmostrate you with the force.''
::If this unit contains 5 or more models, it automatically passes its Morale tests.
*'''We will rocked you:''' ''All nobz want punch like a warboss...idiots, no, NO, you are a genius, GENIUS!''
::If this unit contains 10 or more models, add 1 to the strength characteristic of models in this unit.

'''Upgrades:'''

'''Options:'''

All miniatures can change his choppa or/and slugga for any normal weapons.

You can give 1 pet squig for 6 models you give.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|STAR ORK}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Troops}}, {{W40kKeyword|INFANTRY}}, {{W40kKeyword|Nob}},{{W40kKeyword|ORK}}, {{W40kKeyword|CORE}}

====Squigs====
This unit contains 10 models ('''Power Rating x''').It can include up to 10 more Nobz ('''Power Rating +x''') or up to 20 more Squigs ('''Power Rating +2x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Squig || 8" || 4+ || - || 3 || 3 || 1 || 2 || 6 || 6+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
They wear Teef Squig

'''Special Rules:'''

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Lunch time! :''' ''When they are led into battle (or escape from their cages) their only objective is to drink. And since they already ate the runtherd, they are going to look for something new.''
::At the start of your Charge phase, if Squigs is not within 1" of an enemy unit, and is within 12" of an enemy unit, he will automatically attempt to charge the nearest enemy unit. He can do so even if he Advanced or Fell Back in the same turn.

*'''Thiz izn't Tiranid Codex:''' ''Normally, squigs are not trained, they do not care how big the ork is, they will not understand what they are told ... it seems obvious but ... That guy exists.''
::This unit cannot benefit from any type of aura, order, upgrade, stratagem, or faction rule that is not expressly designed for Squigs. Ex: WeirdWAAAGH Old Zogwort

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|Ork Star}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Squig}}, {{W40kKeyword|Infantery}}, {{W40kKeyword|Troop}}

===Elites===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Bigga guard====
This unit contains 1 Bigga Guard Bozz and 2 Bigga Guard('''Power Rating x'''). It can include up to 3 more Bigga Guard('''Power Rating +x'''), or up to 6 more Bigga Guard('''Power Rating +2x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Bigga guard || 6" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 5 || 3 || 3 || 8 || 4+
|-
| Bigga guard bozz || 6" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 5 || 3 || 4 || 8 || 4+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
*Choppa
*Choppa

'''Special Rules:'''

*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''I am the real boss!:''' ''These orks are self-conscious about their leaders. Although they are large in size, they usually do not notice if they can kill real warboss. This angers them to such an extent that they will put themselves in the middle of the bullets or swords with the sole purpose of "zhowing that they kould tek it bettah".''
::Roll a D6 each time a friendly ORK STAR CHARACTER (excluding vehicle) loses a wound whilst they are within 3" of any models with this ability; on a 3+ the ORK character does not lose a wound but one model with this ability suffers a mortal wound.

'''Upgrades:'''
You can change Choppa for: Shotta, Big Shotta, Kustom Shotta, Power Klaw, Kill Saw, Power Stabba, Slugga, Big Slugga, Burna or Big Choppa.

'''Options:'''
You can change only 1 Choppa for any Shield
You can add 1 pet squig for every 3 models in the unit.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|Ork Star}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Ork}}, {{W40kKeyword|Nob}}, {{W40kKeyword|Guard}}, {{W40kKeyword|Core}}

===Fast Attacks===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Khorne's Stormboyz====
This unit contains 10 Khorne's Stormboyz ('''Power Rating x'''). It can include up to 10 more Khorne's Stormboyz ('''Power Rating +x'''), or up to 20 more Khorne's Stormboyz ('''Power Rating +2x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Khorne's Stormboy || 12" || 3+ || 5+ || 4 || 4 || 1 || 3 || 7 || 6+
|-
| Khorne's Stormnob || 12" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 4 || 2 || 4 || 8 || 5+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
Each model is armed with a slugga and choppa.

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''Stormboyz Strike:''' <span style='color:green;font-size:100%'> ''Iz you approuz fram abo'v, you'da blow will'a ztrongah. Hur, hur, hur''</span>
:: During deployment, you can set up this unit flying high in the skies instead of placing it on the battlefield. At the end of any of your Movement phases this unit can plummet onto the battlefield – set them up anywhere on the battlefield, more than 9" away from any enemy models.
*'''Blood for the Blood Git:''' ''There are usually many more Khorne Orks than you usually see. This is because, the rest of the orks do not approve of a chaos follower without their choppa embedded in the skull. Therefore, they can only show their loyalty properly by "hiding".''
:: If this unit is more than 6 "from any Ork model without the Khorne key,it can fight twice in each Fight phase, instead of only once.

*'''Full Throttle:''' ''Khorne loves blood at any point in battle, when facing tough enemies, when yielding to wounds, and he also accepts when trying to ignite your unstable rocket. So ... why would he have to avoid it?''
:: When this unit Advances, you can add 6" to its Move characteristic instead of rolling a dice, but if you do, roll a D6 for each model in this unit at the end of the phase; for each roll of 1, the unit suffers 1 mortal wound.

'''Upgrades:'''
For every 10 models in the unit, one Khorne's Stormboy can become a Khorne's Stormnob.

'''Options:'''
Each model may replace his slugga with one choppa.
Khorne's Stormnob may replace his choppa with one item from the normal melee Weapons.
Khorne's Stormnob may replace his choppa with one item from Khorne Weapons.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|STAR ORK}},{{W40kKeyword|Khorne}},{{W40kKeyword|CHAOS}}
*{{W40kKeyword|FAST ATTACK}}, {{W40kKeyword|INFANTRY}}, {{W40kKeyword|JUMP PACK}},{{W40kKeyword|ORK}}, {{W40kKeyword|FLY}},{{W40kKeyword|CORE}},{{W40kKeyword|Khorne}}

===Heavy Supports===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Squig Catapult====
This unit contains 1 Squig Catapult('''Power Rating 3''').
{| class = wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Squig Catapult || 5" || 5+ || 4+ || 3 || 4 || 5 || 2 || 5 || 5+
|}

{| class = wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Range !! Type !! S !! AP !! D !! Abilities
|-
! Squig Catapult !! - !! - !! - !! - !! - !! When attacking with this weapon, choose one of the profiles below.
|-
| -Buzzing Squigs || 60" || Heavy 2D3 || * || * || * || Add 1 to the hit rolls for this weapon and this weapon wounds '''INFANTRY''' on a 2+ and everything else without the '''TITANIC''' keyword on a 4+, '''TITANIC''''s are wounded on a 6+. Every successful wound made by this weapon deals a mortal wound to the target.
|}
'''Wargear''':This unir wear Buzzing Squigs

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Dakka Dakka dakka
*'''Living Ammunition:'''
::You may re-roll hit rolls of 1 for this models ranged weapons. In addition, for every missed shot roll a D6, on a 4+ the nearest unit to the intended target (friend or foe) takes the missed hits instead.

*'''Boss the Squigs are looking at me hungrily again: ''' ''Squigs don't make for the best ammunition and trying to launch a creature which most certainly does not want to be thrown at the enemy can have... Unfortunate side effects.''
**At the beginning of your turn roll a D6 and consult below, the resulting effect lasts until the start of your next turn.:
***1, Ammunition on the loose: The squigs have escaped and are now eating the Grot crewmen, this model takes D3 mortal wounds and all other units within D6" take a mortal wound.
***2-3, (Sound of a Squig being kicked): A suitably large Ork has come and beaten the Squigs (or squished some of the Buzzing Squigs) into a modicum of calm, nothing happens.
***4, Git on da katapult fatty!: The ork overseer has decided that the catapult’s ammunition could be enhanced by a few “volunteering”, rotund grots strapped with explosives, providing a little more weight and firepower to throw at the enemy. Reduce the range of this models weapons by 12” and a unit of GROT INFANTRY within 6” suffers a mortal wound (if no such models are available then this model takes a mortal wound). However, you may then add 1 to all dice rolls to determine the number of shots made by the model's weapons.
***5, Git them out of 'ere then!: The decision is made the fire the Squigs out of here as fast as possible, shooting attacks made by this weapon are made at a -1 to hit, but you may roll double the dice when determining the number of shots when firing any of this models weapons and discard the lowest half of dice.
***6, Very enthusiastic ammunition: The very hungry Squigs are extra eager to be introduced to their targets, add 1 to the wound rolls made by this weapons ranged weapons.

*'''Zoggin 'el itz gonna blow!:''' ''See da univers dey sed. 'orkin 'ith da squigs will be fun dey sed. Da gitz 'idn't 'ention dat da squigs will trys an gobble you wen deys ad enof!''
**When this model is slain roll a D6, on a 1, 2 or 3 nothing happens, on a 4 or 5 every unit within 2D6" takes D3 mortal wounds, on a 6 this model may make one full round of shooting attacks as if it was the shooting phase, then all units within 2D6" take D3 mortal wounds.
'''Keywords:'''
*Faction Keywords:{{W40kKeyword|ORK STAR}}, {{W40kKeyword|ORK}}
*Keywords: {{W40kKeyword|VEHICLE}}, {{W40kKeyword|SQUIG}},{{W40kKeyword|SQUIG CATAPULT}}

====Looted Carnifex====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

====Rockzta Gitz====
This unit contains 3 Rockzta Boiz('''Power Rating x''').It can include up to 3 more Rockzta Boiz('''Power Rating +x'''), or up to 6 more Rockzta Boiz('''Power Rating +2x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| Rockzta Boy || 5" || 3+ || 5+ || 4 || 4 || 1 || 2 || 6 ||6+
|-
| Rockzta Nob|| 5" || 3+ || 5+ || 5 || 4 || 2 || 3 || 7 || 5+
|}

'''Wargear:'''
Any model of this unit are equiped with 1 Guitar Kannon

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''Dakka! Dakka! Dakka!

*''' 'Ere We Go

*'''Mob Rule

*'''What? WHAT? :''' ''The orders of the leaders are always heard above all else, no matter the screams of agony, the explosions, the bursts of projectiles because you can always feel the support and firm hand of your O PLEASE STOP, IT HURTS, IT IS NOT SUPPOSED THAT THIS MUST HAPPEN, MY EARS MELT, MY COMMUNICATORS EXPLODE!''
::Every time you declare that you are going to shoot a unit with all the weapons in your unit, draw an imaginary line. This line will have as ends a model of the target unit and a model of your unit that are visible between them. Any unit within 3 "of this line will not be able to receive or launch Orders until your next turn, nor will it be affected by any Order if it has been launched previously. An Order is understood to be actions such as: the Adeptus Mechanicus Canticles, the Litanies of Marines Space, the Voice of Command of the Astra Militarum ...

'''Upgrades:'''
Any Rockzta Boy can be a Rockzta Nob

'''Options:'''
Any Rockzta Nob can change his Guitar Kannon for Epik Guitar Kannon

You can give 1 pet squig for 4 models you give.

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|Ork Star}}
*{{W40kKeyword|Ork}}, {{W40kKeyword|Rockzta Gitz}}, {{W40kKeyword|Nob}}(only is totally made of Rockzta Nob) , {{W40kKeyword|Core}},{{W40kKeyword|Infantery}}

===Flyers===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

===Dedicated Transports===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

===Lords of War===
====x====
This unit contains x ('''Power Rating x''').
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Name !! M !! WS !! BS !! S !! T !! W !! A !! Ld !! Sv
|-
| x || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || - || -
|}

'''Wargear:'''
x

'''Special Rules:'''
*'''name:''' ''description''
::effect

'''Upgrades:'''
x

'''Options:'''
x

'''Keywords''':
*Faction:{{W40kKeyword|x}}
*{{W40kKeyword|x}}, {{W40kKeyword|x}}

==Point Costs==
===Units===
====HQs====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons not included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|-
|'''Warboss in mega-armour of Warboss''' || 1-3 || 125
|-
|'''Warboss''' || 1-3 || 100
|}

====Special Characters====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|}

====Troops====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons not included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|-
|'''Squigz''' || 10-30 || 5
|-
|'''Nobz''' || 5-20 || 20
|}

====Elites====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons not included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|-
|'''Bigga guard''' || 3-9 || 38
|}

====Fast Attacks====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons not included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|-
|'''Khorne's Stormboy''' || 10-30 || 14
|-
|'''Khorne's Stormnob''' || 1-3 || 18
|}

====Heavy Supports====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons not included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|-
|'''Rockzta Boy''' || 3-9 || 16
|-
|'''Rockzta Nob''' || 3-9 || 21
|}

====Flyers====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Unit !! Models per unit !! Points per model (weapons not included)
|-
|'''x''' || x || x
|}

===Weapons===
====Melee Weapons====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Points per weapon
|-
|'''Acceptable Hammer''' || 60
|-
|'''Choppa''' || free
|}

====Ranged Weapons====
{| class=wikitable
|- valign=top
! Weapon !! Points per weapon
|-
|'''Slugga''' || free
|}

[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]
[[Category:Orks]]
[[Category:/tg/ 40,000]]
[[Category:Codex /tg/'s Edition]]
[[Category:Warhammer Homebrew]]
[[Category:Awesome]]

Champions

2026-05-12T05:30:08Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010251 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{stub}}
{{Game Infobox
|name = Hero System | Champions
|picture =
|type = [[RPG]]
|publisher = [[Hero Games]]
|system = 3d6 [[Roll Under]]
|authors = Steven S. Long* (Steve Peterson, George MacDonald, Bruce Harlick, Ray Greer)
|year = 1981 | 1990
}}

The Hero System, is a Super Hero focused [[RPG|roleplaying game]] made by [[Hero Games]]. It started as Champions [[RPG|roleplaying game]] (And yes it's related to the MMO as well) It has loads of numbers and expansion books. It is a game system known for its flexibility and customization options, and over the top level of detail, and fine tuned balancing that "inspired" [[GURPS]]. The release of [[GURPS]] being the main reason for the release of HERO System 4th edition as it's own standalone product, which was largely used only for Super Hero Games.

The basic premise behind the system is that you create your character and customize all of his abilities using points that you get both at creation and as your character progresses. There are assloads of you then build your character by taking effects and modifiers, adders, and other such to create and customize your powers and advantages. It uses the d6 exclusively, generally pressuring you to roll over your relevant ability score to succeed in a given task. This can be augmented in difficulty by increasing or decreasing the target numbers. A roll of a 3 or 4 is a critical success, while an 18 is always a critical failure. You might be thinking, "that sounds a lot like [[GURPS]]" and it is, but it's also a lot more open to character options and is typically a lot more balanced. It even has 3d6 roll down for most skill checks. Using Yellow Warning signs and Red Stop signs even on effects and the like that could very likely break the game.

Hero System much like [[GURPS]], has a largely simulationist bent results in it being regarded as excessively complicated by many gamers. To the point that the company had to put out a character builder (that they still charge money for) just for most people to be able to make a single character. Side program is in Java, and is likely to end up no longer working in the near future with resent updates to Java removing a lot of frame work features and other things. This said actual play unlike [[GURPS]] is typically a light easier once you get past this massive barrier, and it has gotten slightly better in the later editions, but its inherent complexity still puts it levels behind [[Dungeons and Dragons]] in terms of ease of play.

Much of the complexity in Hero System, like it is with [[GURPS]], is front-loaded: character creation tends to take longer because of the staggering amount of detailed options. Forget just rolling a character like you would in D&D, you need to set aside a session to build one. That's the price you pay to evade [[Linear Build Quadratic EXP]].

Now your likely asking, "why ain't no one ever mentioned this to me?" Well that's two fold, unlike [[GURPS]] [[Hero Games]] never really got too much settings or major publicity like [[GURPS]] did. As well, the dark history of Hero System is that the games and the company are written by an actual lawyer, legit having been written by a rules lawyer. Much like how a Lawyer Mind set killed off AD&D, and TSR, the same has slowed and largely killed off adoption of the system, leaving it a forgotten relic. Said author has went out of their way to curb fan sites, roll20 support, and much more. After all lawyers are trained to stomp out fun in the name of Copyright.

There is another notable thing however that came out of this all, and that's when the team partnered up with R. Talsorian Game's Mike Pondsmith, and made Fuzion. A very interesting and notable system that is only really remembered for the bad botched release of Cyberpunk 3.0, the Dragon Ball Z RPG, and a few other things. The Fuzion system being a simplified version of the Hero System, with a weird Rosetta stone like deal where you could convert 3d6 roll under, d10's, and d20 rolls for the system to whatever you liked. Sadly it never took off, likely because no one liked Cyberpunk 3.0, which is no longer even canon to said setting.

[[Category:Systems]]
[[Category:Roleplaying]]
[[Category:Hero System]]

Werewolf

2026-05-12T05:29:55Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010252 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{NeedsImages}}
''Were you looking for the RPG by [[Werewolf: The Apocalypse|White Wolf Games]]? Or perhaps the us versus them [[Mafia|party game]]?''

[[File:Werewolf RA1.jpg|thumb|400px]]
'''Werewolves''' are people that change their shape into something lupine. It used to be turning into a for-real wolf, but modern people don't find wolves so scary anymore, so we've come up with transforming into half-man half-wolf monstrosities, or turning into HUGE wolves.

Sometimes werewolves are the way they are because of a curse, or a transmitted disease, or just because they're evil. Or they're aliens. Or furfaggots that made a wish. Or it can even be that their situation is genetic and their ancestor was or turned into one. Werewolves of the cursed variety will transform against their will and have no control while in their monstrous shape, and get all emo when they turn back into a person, which usually makes sense if they have family or loved ones that they don't want getting killed, or even worse, cursed too. Many stories say that the cursed types will transform during the three days of a full moon; some make them transform when they experience intense emotions such as lust or anger (q.v. HULK SMASH!) Notably, however, the idea of the curse being spread by a bite didn't show up until around the mid 20th century. Up till that point, werewolf attacks generally didn't leave enough left of the victim to turn into much of anything besides chunky salsa.

Common weaknesses include weapons made from [[silver]] (a "pure" metal), and a plant called "wolfsbane", based on a genus of whose juices were used on arrows and baits for killing wolves, and are thus obligated to show up on equipment lists for fantasy games.

There are other monsters that are people-turning-into-animals, but werewolves are the most famous. So much so that they have forced their naming convention onto all other therianthropes, so that we have [[wererat]]s, [[werebear]]s, [[werebat]]s (not to be confused with [[vampire]]s), and even werebirds, weredolphins, werewhales and weresnails. An inversion is an animal that turns into a person. The fancy name for these is antherion. D&D tends to call these "inversions" by the formula of "(animal)-were", such as [[wolfwere]] and [[jackalwere]].

For more details on shapeshifting beasts, see the [[therianthrope]] page.

Also, never tick off a Werewolf. Despite the [[furry]] jokes we make, they can typically kick your ass six ways from sundown. Even though wolves themselves aren't that notable in the muscle strength department, Werewolves tend to have incredible strength and/or speed for some reason. They're killing machines to be respected, despite the furry crap they're given.

== Werewolves in games ==
===[[Warhammer Fantasy]]===
Instead of being called werewolves, they were called "Skin wolves". They are mutated human who were cursed by either witches or chaos. The reason they are not called werewolves is due to their transformation phase. [[Grimdark|When a human is undergoes this phase, they transform from the inside of their body, ripping through their former skin. After this is done, the man-wolf thing is covered by blood and its former skin]]. Like Fimir, these creatures were largely ignored by GW as other unimportant background lore until [[Total War: WARHAMMER]] [[AWESOME|made them a playable units in the hand of Norsca]], fighting along side the chaos viking with their enormous strength, cavalry like speed and anti-large bonuses.

There is also some fluff about the children of Ulric, they show up in one of the Gotrek and Felix stories and are referenced in a couple of other places. Supposedly the results of Ulric's fling with a human woman the jury's out on whether or not they're chaos tainted. But that's very old, 2nd ed, and may or may not have been retconned.

===[[Dungeons & Dragons]]===
Werewolves started out as just the "lycanthrope" monster type, but issues of Dragon Magazine and later editions allowed players to add werewolf-ism as a feature of their character, or to take lycanthrope as a race like "elf" or "dwarf." Werewolves are always the disease type, with voluntary transformations. They are immune to damage unless you're using magic or silver weapons. There were also '''[[wolfwere]]s,''' which are basically bizarro werewolves who have a huge hate-on for their opposite numbers, '''[[seawolf|seawolves]]''', which were seafaring werewolves, '''[[loup-garou]]''', which were more powerful werewolves, and '''[[loup de Noir]]''', which are mythological skinchanger type werewolves. All of these kinds were pretty common in [[Ravenloft]] setting. The 3.5 Edition setting "Eberron" adds the [[Shifter]], which are distant descendants of true lycanthropes with watered-down lycanthrope traits.

Although the laundry list of powers and the strongly established "bloodthirsty monster" fluff makes it difficult, D&D has made some attempts to offer a playable werewolf. In BECMI, they were amongst the many therianthropes made playable in the Creature Collection #4. In [[Advanced Dungeons & Dragons]], fan-made rules for werewolf (and other [[therianthrope]]) PCs can be found in the [[Books of S|"Book of Souls"]] netbook for [[Ravenloft]]. In 3rd edition, you could just slap the werewolf template on your PC, although that [[Level Adjustment]] was a bitch, and [[Dragon Magazine]] #313 offered the werewolf (and several other therianthropes) as "racial classes" you could take. 4th edition, finally, had character themes for the werewolf, wererat and werebear in [[Dragon Magazine]] #410, granting players some extra features and some optional utility powers so they could be shapeshifting wolf-monsters without being overpowered compared to the rest of the party.
<gallery>
Werewolf 1e.jpg|1e
Werewolf monster card.jpg
Werewolf MM 2e.png|2e
Werewolf Dragon 313.jpg|3e
Werewolf 4e.jpg|4e
Werewolf Dragon 410.jpg
Werewolf 5e.png|5e
Werewolf B1.png|Pathfinder
</gallery>

{{D&D-Therianthropes}}

===[[Werewolf: The Apocalypse|Old World of Darkness]]===
Werewolves are genetic, the product of having a werewolf ancestor. You could be born a wolf that turns into a human, or a human that turns into a wolf. Werewolves are considered heroes fighting for hippy-dippy nature causes, do some special nature magic, and are always in danger of flipping out and killing everyone they can reach. They are in control of their transformations, they have a half-way state that is awesome, and they can regenerate from any wounds unless it was caused by silver or fire or other werewolves.

===[[Werewolf: The Forsaken|New World of Darkness]]===
Werewolves are genetic, the product of having a werewolf ancestor. You're born human, but transform into a werewolf "when the time is right", probably killing everything in sight in the process. Werewolves are the descendants of two mighty spirits (Mother Luna and Father Wolf), are charged with policing the spirit world, can do magic, and are always in danger of flipping out and killing everyone they can reach. They are in control of their transformations, they have a half-way state that is awesome, and they can regenerate from any wounds unless it was caused by silver.

===[[Shadowrun]]===
Werewolves have a unique designation; instead, the "loup-garou" (French for "werewolf") are humans infected with HMHVV II, a strain of a Awakened (read: "magical") virus. Loup-garou will transform under a full moon (or for a four day period in a 29 day cycle not linked to the phases of the moon, depending on the edition). Instead of becoming animals the loup-garou will turn hairy and monstrous, with fangs and claws, a hunger for metahuman flesh, enhanced physical abilities, diminished intelligence, and berserker rage, similar to "were-neanderthals" or Lon Chaney's version from ''The Wolf Man''. Other metahumans with the same strain of virus will turn into other creatures, such as dwarves becoming cadaverously thin Gnawers, Orks turn into Grendels, etc.; while different strains and metahuman combinations of the virus are responsible for vampires, ghouls, and other creatures.

Similarly, Shifters are rare Awakened animals who can shapeshift into a metahuman form and back. They can learn to speak and behave like humans, but they are very much their original animal in mind.

===[[Warhammer 40,000]]===
A special order of Space Marines dubbed "[[Space Wolves]]" are infused with wolf-beast traits in their genetics during training. Part of the process of earning their place among the Adeptus Astartes is to learn to suppress their bestial urges. Those that fail become [[Wulfen]], those that succeed keep their intelligence and loyalty to the Emperor of Mankind, and gain resistance to the corrupting effects of Chaos and The Warp. The bestial traits still grow slowly. Under extreme conditions (Like the nightmare hellhole that is the Eye of Terror), many Space Wolves have shown increased wolf-like traits, to the point where they more or less become Space Marine Werewolves (a.k.a. Wulfen). With these Wulfen, the outnumbered Space Wolves 13th company has been kicking Chaos ass since M30.

===[[Ars Magica]]===
Werewolves are cursed, either by magic or by faeries, but some player-controlled companions or grogs can be werewolves who can control the transformation.

===[[RIFTS]]===
Modern humans are actually were-apes that lost the ability to change back. There is also a species called Loup-Garou that are Nazi Furries that must be killed twice, once in each shape, to stay dead. Plus there is a race of humanoid wolves, the Wolfen, that adapted pretty well to a good number of dimensions in the Megaverse with a structure similar to the Roman Empire( Italy included)

===[[Iron Kingdoms]]===
The Iron Kingdoms houses a faction called the Circle of Oroboros, a conclave of druids trying to protect the balance of Order and Chaos, nature and civilization. They worship the Devourer Wurm, the aspect of nature, and he grants them all kinds of awesome, if kinda [[furry]] powers - There among the Warpwolf, humans warped into wolflike forms, used by the druids to kill and maim in the Wurms name and to defend nature from those who harm it. No one really know if that human can change around to human again.

===[[Deadlands]]===
The DuPont family are inbred black magicians cursed with being werewolves.

There are also rules for playing a werewolf PC (or a vampire PC) in the sourcebook "Rascals, Varmints & Critters 2: The Book of Curses". It's quite powerful, but completely worthless thanks to being one of the rare cases of game designers baking in their own moral take on shit, even when it's stupid: see, the big issue that a werewolf PC has to worry about is amounting a stat called "Corruption", which eventually turns your PC into a hostile NPC if it gets to high. Now, this'd be just fine on its own, and fitting for the setting, but guess what causes corruption? That's right: ''voluntarily changing shapes''. So you've got a race whose primary unique trick, changing forms, is one you can't ever use or you'll end up losing your character! Even the [[Harrowed]] aren't this gimped over! Admittedly, vampires have it worse.

Needless to say, most decent Marshals will throw ''that'' steaming piece of crap right out the window and make up their own, fairer rules for earning Corruption based on what you actually do as a werewolf.

===[[Monster Hunter International]]===
Were-creatures don't make any radical deviations from the norm here. They're weak to silver (though most monsters are), virtually all-evil, long lived, transform at a full moon (though can voluntarily change at other times, with varying control ability based on the moon cycle) and turn others into werewolves with a bite or, rarely, claw. Like [[Vampires]] PUFF bounties are fairly high on PUFF list for a well-known monster capable of quick reproduction, though they are deadly enough to warrant it. Since being turned into a werewolf creates a dominant mental urge to be evil, only three sane were-creatures are known: The King of the Werewolves (or at least the North American ones) who is a WW1 veteran and experienced hunter that learned to control the beast by living alone on an island for years and throwing himself off cliffs, his girlfriend that's only in control thanks to an ancient artifact her grandfather stole, and a briefly mentioned were-Dolphin codenamed "Mrs. Fish" by the US government. Before the creation of the second, the first was explicitly the only lycanthrope with a PUFF exemptions. A young werewolf has the honor of being the first monster to appear and die in the series, when the main character is attacked in his office building by his werewolf boss and [[Awesome|wrestles said werewolf out a window]]. The RPG mentions that Werebears (primarily Canada/Alaska), Werejaguars (central America/Mexico), Wereleopards (various parts of Africa), Weresharks and Weretigers (India) also exist.

== Werewolves in video games ==
===[[World of Warcraft]]===
([https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qae25976UgA Play this while reading this entry.]) Worgen had been a mysterious species of savage, humanoid wolves which popped up out of nowhere, but served as an otherwise another generic mob. With the launch of Cataclysm, the Worgen became a playable race in a way that was ''less'' retarded than expected. The nation of Gilneas had all but disappeared from the fluff after they had [[/pol/|built that wall]] to keep out the decreasing-but-persistent Alliance tax collectors and the increasing-and-persistent Undead, until years later the Undead broke in. It turns out that Gilneas had been falling under an epidemic of the Worgen curse. Given a serum that partly cured them, the Gilneans are now stable and have to deal with the crisis of feral brethren and an Undead invasion. They're also Regency-era English people. They possess racial bonuses granting Shadow and Nature resistance, as well as a +1% Critical Strike bonus. They also /sniff and /roar. Horde can't wait to learn how to skin em in the next patch. They're also led by a badass old man called [[Vance Stubbs|Genn Greymane]]. And a [[C.S.Goto|drunken Irishman]] called Darius Crowley. An obvious reference to the song of Ozzy Osbourne, but not the [[Occultist]].

===[[The Elder Scrolls]]===
====Daggerfall====
The ability to become a werewolf, and, uniquely, a wereboar is featured in the base game. This gives a bunch of stats boosts and a very strong alternate form. Unfortunately this comes with a need to kill an innocent humanoid every 15 days, which is a huge pain in the butt in a game where traveling time can take multiple days each way. The Hircine's Ring artifact can fix this, but it's near impossible to acquire without outside knowledge since starting the quest requires visiting one very specific witch coven that is hard to discover from randomly gifted locations and unlikely to be discovered through random map travel. Also, for some reason, being transformed doesn't lock out the ability to ride a horse or talk to non-combatant NPCs.

====Morrowind====
Bloodmoon expansion allows for a player character to become a werewolf. The player can choose to keep the curse or have it removed. Basically, the Werewolf version of the player character is a machine of outright slaughter. This can be a handy tool for clearing out tougher dungeons. Just don't let yourself be spotted transforming, or you're toast. Any and all town guards will try to kill you. As to be expected they are vulnerable to silver and there is no short supply of silver weapons available in Bloodmoon.

====Skyrim====
Werewolves make a return- the leaders of local fighters' guild, known as the Circle of The Companions, are all Werewolves, and are opposed by the Silver Hand, a band of werewolf-hunters who all employ silver weapons. Transforming against a group of them is tantamount to suicide, at least in the beginning. When you reach the higher levels they're easy. You can become a werewolf yourself, and when transformed you are forced into third person, must consume corpses to stay transformed and heal, and get an claw attack. While not transformed, you gain immunity to disease, and lose the ability to gain rested bonuses. It should also be noted that PC werewolves can only transform once every 24 hours without the help of Hircine and are one of the fastest creatures in the game, easily outpacing even the best horses. The aforementioned "help" from Hircine is a ring that lets you transform whenever you want, but until its quest is finished will transform you at random. Unless you're not a werewolf, allowing you to get the purified ring without having to deal with the curse, something Hircine apparently never thought of. Also worth noting is that the Dawnguard DLC (DLCs are rarely awesome, but this one includes overzealous paladins led by a bald bearded Samuel L. Jackson and helping out a hot vampire chick who is a follower) will allow the player to gain werewolf perks by eating corpses in Beast form. These perks can then be used to make you into an absolute killing machine. The train will have no brakes...

==Monstergirls==
Werewolves suffer the same problem as [[Gnoll]]s and other hirsute humanoid monstergirls: they're [[beastfolk]], and leaning into what /tg/ considers "[[furry]]" territory. Even with their shapechanging abilities, you're still looking at someone who can turn into a humanoid wolf, if not an actual wolf. Certain media solve the issue by making werewolf monstergirls into canine [[catgirl]]s: they display features of the animal they're based on on a human body. Dog ears and tails are common, as are tailwaggings when the girl receives headpats. Expect plenty of awoo, and they'll get mad if you don't take them for walkies. In Japanese media the lines between werewolf girls, dog girls and kobolds can be very thin, if not outright absent. Werewolves tend to be less common as well, with the other two taking the main stage in lieu of their [[Therianthrope|therianthropic]] cousins. The one unique fetish material they have is their transformation destroying clothes, which often results in a naked (or at least dressed in tatters) girl when she reverts after mauling people.

===Monster Girl Encyclopedia===
The werewolves of the [[Monster Girl Encyclopedia]] take many variants.
*Werewolf: The standard werewolf is a pack animal of which the pack will form around a single man that they pass between each other and has heat cycles just like typical dogs. However, they can be tamed if one is capable of defeating them. Like the typical werewolves, they can turn other women into werewolves by biting them.
*Anubis: A dog monstergirl subservient to the Pharaoh queens who guard the ruins of their ancient society. Massive control freaks, they'll punish intruders with a 'Mummy Curse' that makes men extremely sensitive to pleasure and turns women into mummy monstergirls (who are also extremely sensitive to pleasure).
*Kikimora: A maid monstergirl who serves hardworking men as their wife.
*Hellhound: One of the most aggressive werewolves with black skin and fur, burning red eyes and an intense domination streak. Unlike the werewolves, they are untamable, even by men stronger than them. This doesn't stop some men from trying, but it always ends with the man making those double peace signs hentai artists are so fond of for some reason.
[[File:Werewolf 0.jpg|200px|thumb|left|alt text]]
[[File:Anubis 0.jpg|200px|thumb|left|alt text]]
[[File:Kikimora 0.jpg|200px|thumb|left|alt text]]
[[File:Hellhound 0.jpg|200px|thumb|left|alt text]]

[[Category:Therianthropes]][[Category:Monsters]][[Category:Dungeons & Dragons]][[Category: Werewolf: The Apocalypse]][[Category: World of Darkness]][[Category:Deadlands]]

Ian Watson

2026-05-12T05:29:03Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010254 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{WTF}}
{{Oldschool}}
'''Ian Watson''' <s>the first champion of [[Slaanesh]]</s> is fucking crazy. He's also [[Lulz|brilliant]]. He lives in [[Estalia|Spain]], spends most of his time at [[Albion|British]] book conventions and mostly talks at high speed about [[What|esoteric weird stuff that would turn Dan Brown's shit into chalk.]]

From a [[/tg/|fa/tg/uy]] perspective, he's the bloke who wrote the trippy primordial morass from which [[Warhammer 40,000|Warhammer 40K]] evolved before [[Black Library]] was a thing. He wrote ''[[Space Marine]]'' in 1993, three years after [[Jaq Draco|Inquisitor]], also by Ian Watson (later re-named Draco), and Deathwing. No one had a fucking clue what they were doing, so we get [[Squats]], [[Zoats]] and [[lasgun]]-wielding [[Space Marines]]. We also get [[Space Marines]] out-farting each other with their specially engineered [[Laurie Goulding|arseholes]]. It's weird. It's amazing. <s>It's totally not canon, whatever the fuck that means.</s> And if you want it to be canon, it basically is.

Ian has continued to write, of course, and he's got a shelf full of awards for writing weird shit. For example, his recent novel, ''The Beloved of My Beloved'', (co-written with Italian surrealist Roberto Quaglia) features [[Slaanesh|cloned clitorises, necrophile clones and lots of bum-sex]]. His collection of short stories, The ''1000 Year [[Nazi|Reich]]'', returns to the theme of [[Space Marines]]. It's nothing that [[Black Library]] would ever publish.

When one Stanley Kubrick asked one Steven Spielberg [https://www.nytimes.com/2001/06/24/movies/film-a-director-s-journey-into-a-darkness-of-the-heart.html to consider directing ''A.I Artificial Intelligence''], said decision was based on a 90-page treatment done by Watson under Kubrick's supervision. So he had to be doing something right.
[http://www.visual-memory.co.uk/amk/doc/0094.html Watson also sent a copy of Inquistor to Kubrick, who according to Ian, considered it for "his next movie" '']

He is not [[Aaron Dembski-Bowden]]. Though ADB would be stoked if he was.

[[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]
[[Category:Writers]]
[[category:Black Library]]

Rune

2026-05-12T05:28:48Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010255 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{stub}}

'''Runes''' are the specific letters in a ''runic alphabet'', a form of writing created with the intent that it will be carved into solid surfaces. This gives it a distinctive shape of angles and lines, lacking the curves used in liquid-based writing styles. In the real world, runes are associated with the family of ancient Germanic languages, most famously that of the [[Viking]]s. Runes were used both for day-to-day writing, and also in certain magical practices, most notably in the form of divination.

Historically, the runic alphabets begin with the Elder Futhark (so named for the first six runes in the set), which appeared in Scandinavia and Germania on stone works around the 2nd Century A.D, though some theories postulate that Elder Futhark is way, way older. It is divided into three sets of eight, making for a total of 24 runes in total, though some (admittedly weird) people insist on the existence of the 25th "blank rune", though this is not supported by either archelogical evidence nor any of the myths.

Centuries later during the Viking Age, Elder Futhark becomes strictly used for magic purposes and gives way in everyday writing to the more simplified Younger Futhark used by the Norse during the Viking Age and Anglo-Saxon Futhorc which was used by the people of England before a Latin-based alphabet supplanted it. Centuries after this saw the rise of Medieval Runes, which were used by primarily Christian mysticism.

Finally, you have the Armanen runes, but since they were invented by a folkish nutcase and fanatical national socialist named Guido von List, most scholars and modern day heathens tend to deride them as nothing more than another Nazi attempt at co-opting and corrupting Norse mythology and culture.

In /tg/ media, runes commonly appear as a form of [[magic]]. Runes may be the literal alphabet of magic, or may be a methodology by which magic can be bound to physical objects in order to create enchanted items. [[Dwarves]] often are depicted using runic alphabets as their writing style of choice, as it's typically presumed that dwarves would rather record lore on stone or metal. Rune-based [[mage]]s have appeared in various games, most notably the [[Runemaster]], [[Runecaster]], and [[Runepriest]].

Runes are sometimes used interchangeably with sigils and glyphs.

[[Category: Gamer Slang]]
[[Category:History]]

Cyclops Demolition Vehicle

2026-05-12T05:28:39Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010256 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

[[File:Cyclops.jpg|300px|right|thumb|So cute you probably won't realize that these things can blow up tanks.]]
The Cyclops Demolition Vehicle AKA Kamikaze Imperial Drones are a small remote-controlled vehicle packed with explosives and guided towards a target from a distance, it is used for breaching enemy fortifications such as pillboxes and bunkers with devastating results. It also looks like a [[Leman Russ Battle Tank|Leman Russ]] baby which may result in severe underestimation by the enemy and like the [[Rapier Armoured Carrier|Rapier]] it may result in much unintentional [[Lofn|'DAAAAAAAWWWWW'.]]

Cyclopes are small enough to be carried in a [[Chimera Transport|Chimera]] or [[Valkyrie]] and operated through a [[Video game|remote control device consisting of a small handset connected to a backpack Vox-caster.]] It is said that a Chimera or '''CRASSUS ARMORED ASSAULT TRANSPORT''' can carry two Cyclopes within their hulls. [[Spore Mine|So yes, Imperial vehicles literally give birth to suicide <s>bombers</s> babies.]] Cyclopes are commonly used to remove enemy strong points and bunkers but have found other uses on the battlefield, among these clearing obstacles such as minefields and tank traps or to destroy buildings during street-fighting, while the explosive charge is large enough to damage enemy vehicles. [[Just as planned|Storm Troopers have been known to use Cyclopes as sabotage weapons, landing them behind enemy lines with a single operator to target command posts, supply dumps or bridges.]]

Unsurprisingly, it’s a direct ripoff of the [[Nazi Equipment|Goliath]], a little tracked explosive that looked exactly like this to attack, you guessed it, tanks, devised by the [[Nazi|Nazis]] in WWII.

{{Template:40k-Imperial-Vehicles}}
{{Template:Imperial-Guard}}
{{Solar Auxilia}}

Shadowforge

2026-05-12T05:28:26Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010257 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

A miniatures company which existed for a very short time in the 2000's. Mainly producing female characters in states of undress, their low-quality sculpts in many cases and the absolutely abhorrent paintjobs used to advertise the models (making modern [['Eavy Metal]] seem like classic 'Eavy Metal by comparison) resulted in bankruptcy. Most of the model molds were sold to [[Eureka Miniatures]], who still continue to sell their products. They can be found [http://eurekamin.com.au/index.php?cPath=806_807&sort=3a here].

Products included multiple not-[[Bloodbowl]] teams (all female), "anime" characters, pinup Christmas figures, a science fiction line (which for some reason involved a Nazi woman leading an army of zombie blow-up dolls (swear I'm not making this up)), a fantasy line, and a wild west line.

<gallery>
Image:Shadowforge Nami-Ryoko.jpg|The eyes...
Image:Shadowforge Football Nuns.jpg|Yep, [[Bloodbowl]] [[Sisters of Sigmar|Nuns]]. That is a thing that exists.
Image:Shadowforge Football Orc Staff.jpg|Taken purely at comedic value, many of their models were interesting.
Image:Shadowforge Chaos Maid.jpg|A white mammy.
Image:Shadowforge Scorpion Woman.jpg
Image:Shadowforge Wild Wild West.jpg
Image:Shadowforge Cadian Women.jpg
Image:Shadowforge Raptor Rider.jpg
Image:Shadowforge Nazi Blow Up Doll Zombies.jpg|Why is this a thing.
</gallery>

[[Category:Model Manufacturers]]

Humanism

2026-05-12T05:28:01Z

Psykerdeblanker: Undo revision 1010258 by 109.70.100.13 (talk)

{{merge|Humanity Fuck Yeah}}
{{Topquote|Mankind is greater than any lowly god-creature! We are the GREATEST species in existence! And the Emperor is the greatest being of our species!|[[If_the_Emperor_had_a_Text-to-Speech_Device|Ecclesiarch Decius XXIII]]}}

{{Topquote|Take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder and sieve it through the finest sieve and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy. And yet [[human|you]] act, like there was some sort of rightness in the universe by which it may be judged.|[[Discworld|Death, Hog-father]]}}

{{Topquote|When people are free to do as they please, they usually imitate each other.|Eric Hoffer}}

Humanism as its name indicates, is the philosophical view that puts primacy over humanity and its role in the order of things, their first steps were taken with the coming of the earlier Greek philosophers who wanted to look for a meaning to life and the universe other than the will of the gods and eventually crystallized with the renewal of interest in classic culture during the early modern age, with different branches developing through the centuries and influencing every aspect of our culture and hence our game worldbuilding for kicks and joy.

In general terms humanism can be organized in three groups:

*Liberal or classic humanism, which is more or less the equivalent to capitalism, democracy and human rights based on the value of individual human life, this may develop in the most extreme aspects of capitalism, libertarianism and corporatism.
*Left wing humanism, which in its more moderate forms seeks to prevent or address gross disparities of outcomes via wealth distribution in the form of social welfare programs, with its most extreme view in the form of Marxism, the supreme value of the equality of mankind over the rights of the individual human.
*Right wing humanism, expressed in its moderate form as national populism where the value of a nation's citizens (and especially the common citizens) are placed in higher concern than those of the nation's elite interests or the citizens of other nations, best known in its most extreme form as [[Nazi|Nazism]], which insists on the inherent biological value of some human races over others reflected in the achievements of the particular ethnic, national or social human group.

While the previous division is generalizing many philosophical, cultural and historical aspects while leaving others out it still puts in evidence that all of these branches base their ideals in the inherent supreme value of human life and the human capability to give sense and purpose to existence, with the divergence coming from how best to implement those ideals.

So far it appears that classic humanism has become the ruling philosophical force of the current epoch, with aspects of both the left and right implemented through the last century in the form of limited government intervention, state control of certain aspects of society, widespread social care and other tweaks to make up for the setbacks and mistakes committed in its earlier iterations. It remains to be seen how long it will last given the extensive socioeconomic changes and technological achievements which have put into question again what defines being human and people revisiting the questions of whether religion is something humanity can or should get rid of and the existence of actual gods, although it must be clarified here humanism isn't necessarily anti-religious and doesn't automatically mean atheism, in fact we may argue its success comes from being extremely tolerant of quite a wide range of possible ideological outputs.

But how does this impacts your hobby?

Well, for starters take both Warhammer 40,000's Imperium of Man and Fantasy's the Empire of Man, do you notice the keyword there? Right, these empires were founded not by the will of the gods, but [[Emperor|by human]] [[Sigmar|visionaries]] who promoted the idea of societies where humankind was an end to themselves. Though Sigmar and his Empire weren't exactly humanist; as a human Sigmar worshipped a god (Ulric), several gods and their religions are a major part of the Empire Sigmar founded and Sigmar himself ascended to godhood with a religion centered on him becoming dominant in the Empire, still, human prosperity was always one of the main drives of Sigmar. Meanwhile the Emperor was a true humanist plus a staunch anti-religious atheist who tried to purge religion from humanity because he thought humans needed to be rid of it - among other things - to be perfect.

What is more, if you take the red team you may notice they too in their own way reflect the previous line, the Chaos Gods exist as manifestations of the human psyche in its most extreme forms, they are the dark mirror to humanity's nightmares and shortfalls, their instincts and emotions multiplied a hundredfold in the raw stuff of the warp, what is more, the events that occur in both settings, and then in Age of Sigmar as an extension of Fantasy, are dependent on human desires, choices and wishes, the Chaos Gods are impotent by themselves to take over the material plane, they need human intervention to enter into reality, even a mortal champion to guide their extensions in the form of the daemonic legions, be it Archaon, Horus or Abaddon, all three of them are necessarily required by the gods to make effect upon reality and none of the three can be completely controlled by the ruinous powers.

Interestingly you can also play with the word humanism and change "human" with any other species and still have a similar result, for instance see at the Skaven, their nazi-esque society, now replace skaven with human and you will find again humanism taken in its most extreme darwinian application, it's the humans, and the individual in particular, what matters, other sentient species are just things to be exploited and consumed by the superior master race whose manifest destiny is to achieve ascendancy over all of creation, does it ring to you?

The Kharadron Overlords are another intake of the most classic brand of humanism, or in this case duardinism in the form of a corporate meritocracy where the achievement of the individual indicates the true value of a duardin over the will of the gods or aristocratic ancestry, the kharadron don't ask why their gods made things as they are, they were impotent or uncaring to save them in their direst hour (ironically one of their creator-gods Grungni wanted them to have a degree of self-reliance), it's one's capabilities reflected through economic power and technological achievement what defines their place in the order of things, they have been pushed forth with this new mentality during half a millennia and, like with our own modern society if you check historical development statistics, it has pay off with dividends in the form of raw power over the world and increased socioeconomic mobility, all while becoming dependent upon a scarce resource who justify armed expeditions, again, this whole thing may sound familiar to you, see where we are going?

The influence of humanism is also seen through most fantasy media with the modern tendency to chain the power of the gods to the amount of faith people put in them, as some have put it, gods need prayer badly, before humanism this would have been seen as unthinkable as in ancient religions the gods, or the natural order if you have an eastern liking, and hence the universe, weren't dependent on human faith, with the value humanism puts in the groups of individuals it's now the other way around, gods are dependent upon their followers [[Discworld]]-style, while at first this may sounds like non-sense, it has become a recurrent and popular literary device. The appeal is the effort of winning an uncertain victory, with a struggle between different groups of believers and their patron gods creating an extensive and unpredictable narrative (in theory; in practice the story is still subject to the author's ideas).

Finally humanism makes for a sort of fail-safe mechanism against a particular villain speech, [[Edgy|"your gods have failed you/don't exist, your emotions are just chemical reactions, there is nothing beyond this bleak universe, your life has as much value as that of cattle, the entirety of existence is pointless!"]] to this you can expect the hero's following answer [[awesome|"sure, but I still find worth in existence, which is the reason why I am going to kick your sorry ass"]], yeap, that is humanism.

Now, obviously it's not like your average game developer will sit and say "hmmm, I need to put humanism in my game setting", instead it's the fact most developers speculate on human nature when making their setting and ideas from humanism permeate their worldbuilding.

Needless to say, [[Humanity Fuck Yeah]] is to humanism what the Imperium of Man is to the Roman Empire.
[[Category:History]]

Conspiracy

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[[File:Its a Conspiracy.jpg|400px|thumb|left|We're through the looking glass here people... ]]
Technically a '''conspiracy''' is a plan made by a group of individuals to achieve some goal in secret, more likely than not this goal is somewhat nefarious in nature. For our purposes, it also refers to a set of fiction and modern mythology based around various alleged conspiracies and fiction which is derived there-of. From Area 51 and the Philadelphia Experiment to [[Nazi]] Moon bases and reptilians from the hollow earth.

Get your cork boards, string, trench coats and tin foil hats because we got codes to crack and mysteries to expose.
== The Mindset of Conspiracy Theorists ==
[[image:Pattern seeking brain.jpg|300px|thumb|right|Evolution: where "feature" and "bug" are the same bloody thing in different circumstances]]
First of all, there is a spectrum of interest in conspiracies and similar. This ranges from a passing interest in the mythology and legitimate investigation of shady events by journalists and similar who methodically do their homework to full blown wack-a-doodles who end up stockpiling meat, ammo and gold and are set off by pizza parlors.

Conspiracy theorists are well known for coming up with totally batshit ideas, taking a few random points of data ranging from symbols on dollar bills to the price of cheese to Backstreet Boys lyrics and linking them together to get people to believe that a 300 year old English gentleman's club is plotting to retake the 13 colonies for the British Empire to facilitate the ambitions of the squid people of Tau-Ceti (or something else equally absurd). Sometimes you get people which end up falling down the rabbit hole into a dream world of aliens, real magic, torture and shadowy cabals. Outsiders who are critical are either mindless sheep or to some degree working for ''THEM''. A group of these guys can end up reinforcing their shared delusion.

Most obviously, conspiracy theorists (at least the hardcore ones) are often paranoid and some are even schizophrenic. They get stuck in a self reinforcing loop. As to why they get there, that's complicated. First of all humans are biologically hardwired to search for patterns and our brains do turn up false positives on that front. Second there's an element of wonder to it; the same thing that made people imagine fairies living in the forest in the middle ages. If aliens actually were sending ships to earth to monitor people, that would be kind of cool. Similarly they often get emotionally invested in their position (which is not a failing distinct to conspiracy theorists by any means). But among the biggest and most specific contributing factors is a desire for simplification. We live in a world with a vast web of people, groups, organizations and interests constantly trying to make their way and achieve their goals around various human and non-human factors, often against each other. A mess of monkeys fumbling for meaning and working at cross purposes is inevitably chaotic and often highly inefficient, confusing, frustrating and a hazard to those caught up in it. To some people, the notion that the current state of things can be deciphered and in the end the mess that the world is in can be traced to a single group with an written agenda is appealing.

This is not to say that there are not people in power which try to pull shady shit in the shadows. It does happen, but (among other things) there is a distinct diseconomy of scale to such clandestine operations. The larger, more protracted and more unhinged the conspiracy the more points of failure and the greater the risk of exposure. Steve finds out a bit too much about your long term plot so you have him murdered. Only problem is that Janet saw your hit-squad kill Steve, recorded it on her phone and called the Police and now they are looking into it and you got a new set of holes to plug. Your typical conspiracy is not an ancient secret society with a thousand year plan to dominate the earth, but some corporate types and their 'fixers', a government agency or some other body with money and influence doing something to make off with even more money, eliminate a rival or to achieve some other specific immediate goal when an opportunity arises. If it gets exposed 30 years down the line, it does not matter for the leadership as it’s a ''fait accompli'' and they are either retired with protection or comfortably dead.

Ironically enough, one thing that groups in power can use to get their way is capitalizing on conspiracy theorists and their ideas and tendancies. In the 19th century the absolutist monarchy of the Russian Empire found itself under pressure by various groups of reformers and revolutionaries. To counter this, the Tsar's secret police directed ire away from the Romanovs (the ruling family) and the nobility and towards the Jewish minority (and, later, other ethnic groups such as the Japanese). This nonsense spilled out of the Russian Empire and festered outside even after the Tsar was shot, in particular it was picked up by the [[Nazi]]s. Of course, one of the big dangers of this tactic is having it come back to bite you; in Imperial Russia's case, many people blamed Russia's woes on the corrupt influence of Gregori Rasputin on the royal family. When he died, it eventually became apparent that Rasputin had little to do with the royal family's decision-making and they were ousted not long after.

== Media with a Conspiracy Elements in it ==
{{stub}}

X-Files: Perhaps the quintessential conspiracy theory show with much of the focus being on extraterrestrial aliens and the organization in charge of hiding said aliens from prying eyes. That said, it also touches on a lot of other ideas such as wish magics, invisible thought demons, and numerous cryptids.

[[Neon Genesis Evangelion]]: The big twist of this infamous anime series is that ultimately the conflict is rooted in the struggle between two different conspiracies who each want to literally remake the world according to their own desires.

Inside Job: A Netflix animated series in which we follow affairs at the Shadow Government and the workplace BS for the shlubs who manage the world.

===Conspiracy-based or -heavy Tabletop Games===
* [[Bureau 13]]
* [[Call of Cthulhu]]
* [[Children of the Sun]]
* [[Conspiracy X]]
* [[Dark Conspiracy]]
* [[Dark Matter]]
* [[Delta Green]]
* [[Hunter: The Reckoning]]
* [[Hunter: The Vigil]]
* [[Little Fears]]
* [[Paranoia]]
* [[Species]]
* [[Unknown Armies]]
* [[Witchcraft]]

Board-tans/his

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/his/ - History & the Humanities

{{Template:Board-tan Index}}

== Introduction ==

/his/-tan consists of two individuals, Herodotus and Historia. While some have argued that only one of them is actually /his/-tan, their inseparability renders the argument a moot point.

== /her/odotus ==

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' An animated marble statue of [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herodotus Herodotus of Halicarnassus], known as the Father of History for pioneering historiography in the Western World. He is usually clad in nothing but a traditional Greek [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Himation Himation], and is almost always found holding a book or scroll which he is either reading or writing. In the rare times where he is seen without Historia, he can appear [http://shimmie.4chanhouse.org/index.php?q=/image/5967.png significantly more laid back], sometimes sporting a T-shirt and sunglasses with more unkempt hair. He is quite strong, being an animated marble statue.

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior etc.:''' A crusty old man, Herodotus can generally be found tending to Historia and/or arguing with her over her newest interpretation of history. Herodotus has a very rigid, fixed view of history, and it is often up to him to slowly and painstakingly convince Historia that [[Board-tans/pol | /pol/]] or [[Board-tans/lit | /lit/]]'s interpretations of history are not always completely objectively correct. While he has quite a lot of patience, Historia's obstinate nature almost always gets the better of him, and he often ends up shouting (though Historia does not appear to mind). While generally correct on historical maters, Herodotus still occasionally voices some archaic opinions or beliefs, including (but not limited to) a belief in the existence of supernatural creatures such as [http://research.ncl.ac.uk/histos/documents/2014A01GriffinEmergenceofHerodotus.pdf Griffons and Cyclops], and a rather lenient view on pederasty.

In what off time he has, Herodotus enjoys speaking with other board-tans, namely [[Board-tans/news | /news/]], about recent events and recording them in his many books. He enjoys reading on and discussing history, philosophy and religion with anybody interested in chatting with him, though his fervor renders him vulnerable to being baited by [[Board-tans/pol | /pol/]] and [[Board-tans/sci | /sci/]].

'''Relationships:''' Naturally, Herodotus' closest relationship is his grandfather-granddaughter relationship with Historia. Though they bicker constantly, they clearly care deeply for each other; while he enjoys time apart, Herodotus worries for Historia constantly and always cuts shorts engagements to check on her. He enjoys debating with [[Board-tans/pol | /pol/]] and [[Board-tans/lit | /lit/]], though he fears that their views on history are a bad influence on Historia and her understanding of history. He gets along very well with [[Board-tans/news | /news/]].

'''Meta:''' Herodotus represents both the older understanding of history and the "Humanities" side of /History & the Humanities/ as a board. As history is constantly reevaluated and revised, it conflicts with an older and more historical narrative that may often hold viewpoints and biases of the past. Herodotus himself was referred to by contemporary critics as "The Father of Lies" for his often fanciful stories, some of which did include supernatural creatures and places which we now know not to have existed. Sometimes it is the old narrative that is faulty from lack of information or bias, and Herodotus' obstinate view of history also reflects problems with a rigid adherence to older views of history in light of new evidence.

== /his/toria ==

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' A little girl fond of wearing historical clothing, generally military uniforms. She has mid-length, slightly unkempt hair kept into position by a headband, though this is often concealed by a hat or helmet. She will wear other clothes if coaxed, but often damages them.

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior etc.:''' A tomboy who loves history, but only the "Exciting" parts a child would like (i.e. wars, historical mysteries, disasters). Though the scope of her understanding is limited to the areas she enjoys, she is quite knowledgeable in those areas. She gets easily bored by philosophy and religion outside of its relevance to the parts of history she likes. She is very trusting and impressionable, immediately taking anything she hears from anyone who is not Herodotus as fact. Since she often hangs out separately with [[Board-tans/pol | /pol/]] and [[Board-tans/lit | /lit/]], she often develops strange and contradictory narratives on history (i.e. Adolf Hitler being a Black Jewish Socialist Hero) before Herodotus painstakingly corrects her. The type of person who often says something so clearly wrong that even a layman with little to no knowledge on the subject will feel the desire to correct her.

'''Relationships:''' Since she and Herodotus live near /pol/ and /lit/, she often visits them. /pol/ and /lit/ often use her to bait or provoke the other. Historia's love for wars and "exciting" history also leads her to engage a number of boards, namely [[Board-tans/k | /k/]] (about weapons), [[Board-tans/tg | /tg/]] (about war-related tabletop games) and [[Board-tans/v | /v/]] (about war-related video games).

'''Meta:''' Historia represents the portion of /his/ only interested in history threads and the ever-changing reinterpretation, reinvention and revision of history. While there may be some truth to the overstated paradigm that History is Written by the Victors, History is continually challenged and changed by other aspiring victors. [http://aparc.fsi.stanford.edu/research/divided_memories_and_reconciliation Revisionist views of the far right in Japan], the continual debate on the causes of the Civil War, [http://www.blackhistoryheroes.com/2012/07/hannibal-barca-of-carthage-north-africa.html We Wuzism], [https://www.newcoldwar.org/the-successful-70-year-campaign-to-convince-people-the-usa-and-not-the-ussr-beat-hitler/ changing views on the relative contribution of the Allies to victory in World War II] and the continued debate over the Holocaust all show that our view of history is constantly changing and being revisited. Even from a theoretically objective academic standpoint, new discoveries, sources and research techniques constantly bring in new information that can change our understanding of history. As such, Historia represents all these new and continued developments; while many prove ultimately fallacious or biased, some of it may truly change the conventional understanding of our past.

Board-tans/gd

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/gd/ - Graphic Design

{{Template:Board-tan Index}}

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' With their old ideas for a board-tan not standing the test of time, the most popular and accepted representative for /gd/ these days is a white [[cat]] named '''Kerning''' (ironically written as '''Keming''' at times). Always standing upright, Kerning has a cylindrical body with pointy triangular cat ears, beady black eyes, and a cat-like mouth (a sideways 3), small nubby front paws, an oval-shaped belly and a long swishy cat tail.

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior etc.:''' Kerning loves to give out advice in his field of graphic design. Granted, his advice is almost always either vague or [[FAIL|bad]]. Whether Kerning is just being a [[troll]] is questionable. Kerning can apply graphic design special effects to himself to demonstrate them as he dispenses his advice. In his free time Kerning is also a member of /gd/'s [[/tg/_(4chan_World_Cup_team)|4chan Cup]] soccer team.

'''Relationships:''' Hangs out with other boards that have similar interests, such as /3/ and to a lesser degree /ic/ and /qa/. /an/ and [s4s] like him because he is a kitty cat.

'''Job:''' Graphics design consultations. Have you tried making your logo bigger? Now pay me.

Board-tans/fit

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/fit/ - Fitness

[[File:Fa fit.png|thumb|300px|right|/fit/-tan with /fa/-tan]]
{{Template:Board-tan Index}}

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' Male, with short hair. In great shape, may or may not be beach muscle. Shorter than average and very self-conscious about it.

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior etc.:''' His manlet complex and childhood as a fat, weak kid make him incredibly self-conscious. As a means of asserting himself, he took to weightlifting and later described his reason for working out as "for girls" despite clearly admiring men. He is still too socially awkward and uncomfortable to interact meaningfully with anyone, yet he will insist that he has copious amounts of sex. Knows how to sculpt a body well and has a strict dietary and exercise regiment, consisting of absolutely no cardio whatsoever.

'''Relationships:''' [[/fit/]] would like to antagonize people, but all the muscle in the world can't make him confident enough. Other boards are weaklings to him, and he is the only one who qualifies as natty. Has a deep-seated love for the angel of gains, Zyzz, and his newer still-living idol known only as Scooby. He also admires /fa/ due to his ability to dress well, though he wishes he wasn't a skeleton.

Was merged with /lit/ on April Fool's Day 2017. They got along well and shared their respective knowledge despite having next to nothing in common, thus becoming Well-Rounded Citizens.

Board-tans/fa

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/fa/ - Fashion

{{Template:Board-tan Index}}
[[File:Fatan.png|thumb|200px|right|/fa/-tan]]

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' White male, extremely underweight. Dark eye-circles and Hitler Youth haircut. His clothes alternate between chic and ridiculous, but all of them are "fashionable."

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior etc.:''' Being a total bitch. Hates everything everyone is wearing, except for what ''he'' is wearing because it's the best (and expensive.) You don't know shit about fashion in his eyes, but he will still ask whether or not he should cop a specific garment. Girls sit next to him on the bus because he is the least threatening thing to ever live. In spite of his weird tastes he does seem to know how to properly dress, regardless of what your age, skintone or environment is.

'''Relationships:''' Love/hate homosexual relationship with /fit/, where he is the top. Doesn't like how /cgl/ keeps trying to be like him, because lolita is not a fashion.

Board-tans/diy

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/diy/ - Do-It-Yourself

[[File:Diy-tan.jpg|200px|thumb|right|The most recent version of /diy/]]
{{Template:Board-tan Index}}

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' Male, pointed chin, prominent ears, thin face, welding goggles, hiking boots, tool belt, short sleeve flannel, MacGyver jacket, suspenders and loose-fit cargo jeans.

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior:''' Eager, can-do attitude. Generally nice and helpful. Occasionally over-the-top with projects: using a blowtorch when one is not necessary. Really wants to be MacGyver and can probably pull it off.

Surprisingly immune to off-topicness. However, this causes him to ignore the other boards if they're not working on some kind of project.

'''Relationships:''' People acknowledge he gives better advice than /adv/.

'''Job:''' I don't think so, Tim.

==Meta Notes==
/diy/ often has very little idea what they're doing, most of the people actually doing diy things residing in /out/ /k/ and /o/.

Board-tans/co

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/co/ - Comics & Cartoons

[[Image:Co-tan.jpg|thumb|right|/co/-tan in his superhero form]]
{{Template:Board-tan Index}}

'''Gender/Physical Description:''' Male, late twenties/early thirties. Wears a superhero costume consisting of a trench coat, fedora, and mask.

'''Personality/Habits/Hobbies/Behavior etc.:''' Generally easy going and friendly, with a great love of both comics and cartoons spanning throughout the ages. He tends not to mind most anime, although a lot of the moeshit /a/ and company obsess over doesn't seem to appeal to him. Acts distinctly different from other 4chan boards; while they alternate between being assholes or simpletons, /co/ has a personality resembling the rest of the internet. This makes him more personable, but at the same time his lack of real hang-ups prevent him from seeing the underbelly society he so desperately wants to battle.

Wants to be a superhero, or a cartoonist.

'''Relationships:''' Gets along well with almost everyone. Best friends with /tg/. Known to hang out with /a/ and /v/, although both tend to get sick of his normalfaggotry. Married to /ck/. His younger sister is /mlp/, to which he finds irritating. People insist they see him with a fat little woman who yells about social justice, but he denies it.