++ Hexfleet Virules ++ (Nurgle CSM, Daemons, and R&H)

[Lagrath]

CHAPTER ONE: "BLOOD JUNGLE"

 

I've decided to keep going by narrating the whole campaign as our 30 players go through each two-week round. I'll do my best to keep up by publishing a new story to incorporate into the narrative after each one of my games. As hinted at in the prologue, in my first game I played a pure Khorne Daemon army led by An'ggrath the Unbound. I spent quite a bit of time writing and editing this piece, so I hope at least a few people get a kick out of it.

 

Kronis campaign: https://thekroniscrusade.wordpress.com/nick-vs-stefan/

 

“Blood Jungle”

A Hexfleet Virules Short Story

 

 

“What’re you thinkin’ Sarge?”

 

Gowther didn’t answer as he peered through the large rectangular opening where there had once been a window. He glanced upwards at the grey heavens, careful not to get too close to the rain pouring down from all the storm clouds rolling slowly through the sky. At least there wasn’t any wind to blow the rain into their shelter, here up high on the third floor. Not that it really mattered; there was no way to keep dry given the suffocating humidity carpeting the jungle valley.

 

The Vostroyan Sergeant shifted away from the opening, sitting on the floor with his back set against the uncomfortable concrete wall. No one up the chain seemed to know who’d built these twin buildings or how old they were, but clearly they’d been built to last. The core parts of the structures remained strong even after an unknown number of centuries of earthquakes, jungle growth, and rain. The perpendicular edges and windows strongly suggested architecture of human construction and use, but the scale was all wrong…the individual floors seemed way too tall above the ground and again between each of the four levels. They’d used ladders to scale each floor, half the company (the unlucky half) dug in outside and the rest scattered across all the floors of both buildings.

 

Pausing another moment, Gowther turned and looked at his longtime friend. It wasn’t any fun squatting in ruins for days on end in rain that never seemed to stop, but Gowther and Lionel had been through much worse over the years. It was funny that in all that time, his companion’s accent had never improved much from the ganger slang of Vostroya.

 

Lionel pressed again. “You wonderin’ again why they stuck us out here? We’ve been out here for weeks without seeing a damn thing. Only interestin’ things anywhere within grox spit are those stupid rocks the toolbox and the witch keep pokin’ at. You know it, I know it, the boys know it. How long are we gonna sit in the middle of nowhere pokin’ at damn rocks, Sarge? I thought there was an invasion going on.”

 

“Like I always tell you, it’s not our business why,” Gowther finally snapped back. “They told us to hold this location at all costs, and by the Emperor, that’s what we’re going to do.”

 

In truth, Gowther was curious too. Nothing about this mission made sense. Rumor had it that Kronis had some sort of special black monoliths, but the rocks outside were something totally different. At the ground floor of each of the two buildings and all around the courtyard were a total of six crystal boulders, each situated halfway in the earth. They all glowed a strange gradient, shifting eerily between pink, white, and purple hues.

 

When the company had first arrived here at the turn of the moon, they’d immediately cut out a large circular clearing around the two buildings with the help of the four tanks. The infantry squads then took to fortifying both ruins until the core structure were up to bastion strength, capable of withstanding even the heaviest of direct artillery hits. Next, they set up an entrenched quadgun outside each building, so they could repel any flying threats. Lastly, they’d plastered and half-buried debris between the two buildings to form a solid floor for the tanks that wouldn’t leave the vehicles stuck in the mud. In true Guard fashion, razor-wire fencing now linked both buildings.

 

Clearly, they were digging in to defend this area against something. But why here? And what could possibly threaten a fully entrenched company of Vostroyans, all the way out here in the deep wilderness?

 

***

 

Antonius stared again at the dimly-glowing crystal mound. After weeks of effort, neither he nor the Enginseer were any closer to understanding the strange rocks, or more importantly, figuring out how to extract them for off-site examination and isolation. Digging was no help; though no larger than an Ogryn, each mound was so impossibly heavy that their mass defied all mathematical models. Removing the surrounding dirt just caused the crystals to sink deeper into the earth. The psyker almost had the odd feeling that the rocks were intentionally resisting all efforts to separate them from the planet. He didn’t understand how the mounds didn’t just constantly sink deeper and deeper into the ground if they were too heavy for any mechanical lifting, or how they gave off weight measurements that seemed completely implausible. Chipping or cutting them had proven equally fruitless.

 

Though his Mechanicus companion continued to practically convulse with excitement at the inscrutable puzzle, Antonius was growing ever more frantic. Districted by his thoughts, he pulled a slip of silk cloth from inside his midnight-blue robes and wiped the beads of water from his forehead. Though the hood of the robes protected his face from the steady rain out here in the debris-reinforced courtyard, the sheer humidity caused water and sweat to pool ceaselessly right above his eyebrows.

 

He tucked the cloth slip away again to keep it as dry as possible. Antonius knew his absent-minded nervousness was borne from his burden. Of all the men out here, only he knew the true purpose of their mission, handed down directly from an authority best left hidden from the soldiers and other company attachés. The crystal mounds were actually psychic resonance devices of unknown age and origin, likely not directly related to the pylons found elsewhere on the planet. Whether the crystals were meant to amplify or dampen Warp activity was also a mystery thanks to their apparently dormant nature.

 

Peering straight at the crystal, Antonius gave up trying to gleam anything from the mound with his supernatural gifts. But the shifting colors were pleasing enough to keep the eyes on the otherworldly formation. Had it grown darker outside the last few minutes? Not looking away, Antonius again pulled out his slip and dabbed his brow. The moisture compiling on his forehead felt stickier than usual.

 

Antonius pulled his hand down and look at his luxurious silk slip. It was full of blood.

 

***

 

This time Gowther wasn’t avoiding the rain. He was sticking his head right out of the window as far as he could, trying to figure out what in the Throne had changed with the downpour. It was red now and smelled metallic, yet wasn’t burning like the acid rains they’d seen on some other planets. The storm clouds were also much darker now, and thicker. Lionel and the other guardsmen on the floor were murmuring nervously amongst themselves.

 

Lightning suddenly began flashing in the sky, some of the bolts exploding beyond the nearby tree line and even some inside the clearing itself. The thunderclaps were deafening, but they were nothing compared to the horrible sound that began slowly swelling above them. It was as if they were listening to someone ripping apart sheet metal except a thousand times worse. The onyx clouds started to turn like a giant drain in the sky, picking up speed as the sound grew louder and louder. A tropical hurricane this far from the coast?

 

Gowther had seen a lot in his days in the Guard, but what happened next just about dropped his heart from his chest down to his stomach and then right out his rear end. The epicenter of the swirling clouds began puffing and billowing until shapes started to form and push down from the cloud layer. Huge horns, a nose, tusks, braided hair, a face like a bull. Nearby, enormous axes and arms made of clouds pushed out deep from the black ceiling in the sky. The hazy cloud sculpture was the size of a mountain, and even with the imperfect detail, two humongous, hate-filled eyes seemed to star straight down at the clearing, and in it, Gowther.

 

After looking around for a moment, the daemonic sky-leviathan screamed. Gowther’s vision blurred and he thought he felt something pop in one of his ears. The ground shook, and even the reinforced bastion shook with it. When the roar finally ended, it had been replaced with multiple screeching sounds. Resisting all urges to hide or soil himself, the Sergeant dared to peek his head out the window again. The cloud monster was gone but now the sky was an angry red with countless blazing dots streaking towards them. When they finally hit, the meteors exploded with titanic impact. Though only about the size of a tire, they blew huge fountains of earth into the air. One flew directly past Gowther’s window and for a moment he could have sworn it looked like a giant, flaming skull. Nothing made any sense any more.

 

***

 

Antonius pivoted and hopped as fast as his old body would move, desperate to avoid the missiles raining down around him. Most of the soldiers stationed outside had already gone to ground in either the courtyard debris or in the surrounding mud entrenchments. He threw himself under the front end of Leman Russ knowing it would absorb any blows from above. Several of the tanks, including that of the tank commander, were already in flames after sustaining heavy damage from the barrage. Antonius pressed against the tank and closed his eyes. The pain from his otherworldly senses was unbearable. The pressure in his head was worse than the waves buffeting his body from the explosions.

 

Hearing a new rumbling sound, Antonius opened one eye and looked around the clearing. Enormous stone monuments came rising out of the earth like a dagger through a sheet, the arrow-shaped formations clawing their way past dirt and rock. On one side of the clearing, an even larger shape rose through the ground, an edifice to violence and madness; the punishing symbol of Khorne, the Blood God. They were too late. The Ruinous Powers had come to claim their prize.

 

 

The frail psyker cast a panicked glance to the crystal mounds. The impenetrable formations began to liquefy, slowly at first but then rapidly bubbling. They flowed like candles melting to wax ever faster, and as they ran, they changed from their beautiful pink-white gradients to a hateful brass color. Paralyzed with horror, Antonius watched as each mound re-solidified again as a massive disc in symbol of Khorne. Whatever purpose the crystals had once played, they were now forever changed in the image of the Blood God.

 

***

 

 

“Fire at will!”

 

Gowther held on to his men as loosely as he held on to his own sanity. Their only tethers to reality were the muscle memory of repetitively practiced firepower and the simplicity of having an enemy in front of them. The rifts had opened almost directly in front of their entrenchments, making a mockery of the carefully-cleared killing fields prepared between their positions and the tree line. The gaps themselves were horrific black slits surrounded by pulsing, deep red tendrils. Through these holes in reality flowed column after column of red daemonic infantry, charging with terrifying speed to the sound of unearthly brass trumpets. Atop their position high up in the ruin-bastion neither Gowther’s squad nor the Scions could miss hitting a target.

 

 

It didn’t matter. Within seconds the daemons crested over the entrenchments and razorwire fence. Their huge black swords crashed into the courtyard defenders with such force that explosions of bone and blood erupted everywhere below. The violence was so intense even the battle-hardened Sergeant was forced to look away.

 

 

Gowther turned to see a white-faced Lionel staring at him, along with the rest of their squad. The Scions on the other side of the floor continued to fire out the windows with far more discipline. Knowing he quickly had to find some sort of lifeline for the morale of his men, Gowther forced himself to swallow. “Don’t worry lads. There’s no way those beasts can climb these floors, not with the ladders we needed and the reinforcements we’ve added to this tower. The Emperor looked after us today by placing us here up high in these impenetrable walls, all the better to rain down His justice on these abominations. Like a lighthouse in the storm, we will hold and we will cut through the darkness. We are Vostroyans. We are the Guard. We will hold.”

 

It was a better speech than he’d expected to dig up on such short notice. The boys looked at each other nervously. Slowly, they seemed to accept his conviction of safety, then quickly evangelize it. Moments later they believed him absolutely. Drowning men are apt to cling tenaciously the security of a lifeline. Gowther had his squad back. A few faint smiles appeared as they checked their lasguns for charge capacity and prepared to return to the windows.

 

Gowther almost bit his tongue off as the whole building shuddered for a moment. They heard as much as felt the impact. This time even the Scions on the other side of the floor exchanged confused looks – the firestorm from above ended minutes ago? Was it back? Then came another shudder. Silence. And another shudder, louder and more massive each time. It almost reminded Gowther of the titanic steps of the Titans he’d served with. But that was ridiculous; on their bastion, in this jungle valley, they would have seen a Titan coming from at least ten hive-leagues away.

 

The Vostroyan Sergeant reoriented himself and turned to say something – he wasn’t sure what – to his men. A room of paralyzed faces stared back at him. No. Not at him. Something else.

 

Gowther turned around to look back out his window. The view was gone. One enormous, baleful, pupil-less eye stared back at him, a searing white nested in an ocean of red flesh. Whatever it was, it was as tall as the tallest floor in their building.

 

When the roar came this time, it wasn’t from the remote heavens but from a concrete wall away. The sound hit them so hard they flew to the ground with crunching impact. The roar stole all thought from his body as he was filled with a primordial fear of the likes he’d never experienced. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if this was how an animal felt when it encountered the alpha predator of its food chain.

 

Everything else that happened felt like both a dream and a nightmare. Somewhere, massive crashes hit the bastion in quick succession. The room tumbled, the ceiling collapsed, and masonry went flying everywhere. Gowther dimly registered his body flying high through the air as the whole building exploded.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but it couldn’t have been long. He was far across the clearing now, in thick foliage nested against a palm tree. He could barely move anything, which was no surprise. The real surprise was that he wasn’t dead. Gowther felt something odd and cast a painful glance behind him. Lionel’s unmoving eyes stared back. His friend, his dear friend who’d saved Gowther’s life so many times on so many worlds, had accidently saved his Sergeant one last time. Lionel’s dead body had broken Gowther’s landing against the tree. At long last, the former lion of the lower hive gangs was no more.

 

The blood continued to pour down from the black skies faster and thicker than ever before. Gowther turned his blurry eyes back to the clearing to see the end.

 

 

He saw his brothers slaughtered in amidst the courtyard debris.

 

He saw the company’s psyker blast two daemons to ashes before being decapitated by a giant sword.

 

He saw a damaged tank get severed almost in half by a Chimera-sized daemon with a single massive axe.

 

He saw red dogs with fins for ears chase down first-born sons crawling out from collapsed masonry.

 

And he saw a living building with enormous wings cross the whole courtyard in one mighty leap. It landed next to the second bastion before savaging it with twin axes bigger than Basilisk carriages. The other building joined its deceased twin in total ruin.

 

 

 

 

Then Gowther saw no more.

 

***

 

 “Are you sure that’s all?”

 

He squinted again against the bright lights, unable to sort out anything else in the infinite darkness. It was hard for Gowther to sense much of anything. Even with minimal restraints he could barely move a muscle. They must have used substantial drugs to wake him and keep him conscious in spite of his condition. He didn’t know where or when he was, only that his body had struggled heavily to narrate the battle of the blood jungle. With effort, he nodded slowly.

 

“I see. Thank you.”

 

Even in the darkness, Gowther could make out the blue power-up glow of an ornate plasma pistol. This time, it truly was the last thing he ever saw.

 

The lights came back on. The voice stood up and addressed what remained of the dead Vostroyan and his ruined armchair.

 

“Your orders were to hold at all costs.”

 

The man casually holstered his pistol and adjusted his black-and-gold robes. He turned to the interrogation window and addressed the military officers he knew were watching on the other side.

 

“The expeditionary force ventured off-course in the deep jungle. Trapped and lost, they took a direct hit from an intense and fatal weather event. By the time reinforcements found them, the whole company had been lost. They will be remembered for their faithful service in the Emperor’s name.”

 

With that, Inquisitor Olberus turned and briskly left the room. The Great Enemy awaited him.

 

***

 

Morus moved his hands across the screens and panels with deliberate steadiness. Over the centuries all the infinite inputs and outputs had ascended training and become instinct. Once long ago, when he still called himself a man of Krieg, he had been a land commander of considerable gifts. With the passage of time his more experienced and powerful brethren among the Death Guard had taught him how to adapt his talents to the arenas of naval navigation and warfare among the stars. Unlike his Imperial counterparts, he needed no title for his rank. He was simply Morus. Within the rotten Nurgle core that comprised the bulk of the Hexfleet, all hierarchy was understood and discipline was absolute. Morus had commanded the operational side of space engagements and interstellar travel since years now beyond recollection. Even the pilots of the Heretic Astartes obeyed his directions without question. Despite the best of bionics, few Imperial Admirals would ever live long enough to earn such authority. But such mortals did not enjoy the undying blessings of the Grandfather.

 

He read the data without emotion as numbers and images flashed past the green lenses of his long-defunct rebreather mask. Morus did not need to turn around to sense the presence of his leader on the balcony high above the command deck. Their savior, who had rescued them from the flesh-curse and liberated them from a birth-decreed enslavement to the Throne.

 

Morus began immediately. Inefficient ceremony had little place aboard the flagship. “Warp suppression continues to weaken with each successive 12-hour cycle following destruction of the Rubadian Stones. Their lingering effect on sorcery-based protocols is now estimated at less than 5% and will reduce to an effective 0% by the next solar rotation. Only the Blackstone structures themselves continue to compromise Garden-sync potential within their local jurisdictions. Even these nodes are now viable zones for daemon engine deployment.”

 

He switched to a new data array and quickly swiped past hundreds of orbital scans and battle recordings. “Other than our own operation, military efforts by other warlords around the system have generated varied results. Tactical inputs continue to aggregate, but we project that the Imperium will narrowly hold the majority of combat zones. The Weeping Legion and Thousand Sons invasions have breached major defensive strongholds, but many of the other warbands failed to deploy sufficient firepower for displacing the heavily-entrenched Astra Militarum regiments still holding the planet’s key strategic positions.”

 

After a moment, his master finally spoke. The voice was always deceptively handsome and clear. “It is no matter. This is precisely why we resolved to conduct our own operations separately from the rest of the war effort. So long as we are ultimately able establish a beachhead within one of the zones corresponding to the sacred numerology, the Neverborn awaiting our call will be more than sufficient in number for us to execute the extraction stage.”

 

Morus nodded. “My Lord, was it truly right to begin our war by opening the door for the Blood God? Should not the glory of our first planetary engagement have been given to honor the banner of decay?” Morus knew he was free to ask such questions. They related to strategy and piety, both considerations which were encouraged within the Nurgle fulcrum of the Hexfleet.

 

“Let the Unbound serve his purpose. The pact provides for his needs as well as ours. For a rot to take root, it is necessary to first puncture the flesh. For a particularly troublesome hide, this will often require an especially savage blade. From the open wound follows glorious contagion. So our Father has taught me in my dreams.”

 

Morus heard a rustling of feathers and he sensed he was again left to his own devices. The Plaguelich had spoken.

[Lagrath]

New video of my Chaos-themed gaming room and rare book collection! 

 

https://www.facebook.com/hexfleetvirules/videos/2244164108959662/ 

[Lagrath]

My gigantic Chaos commission of the models I spent six years converting and sculpting was completed last night by GMM Studios after six months of non-stop painting. Stay tuned - any time in the next 48 hours we'll suddenly be unveiling the greatest Warhammer 40k Chaos army in the world.

 

[Pearson73]

I am very eagerly awaiting this.

[Kythnos]

I am looking very much forward to this unveiling!

 

And I have just now read your campaign story posted above. That was an excellent read, let me tell you. Do you have more stories from the campaign to tell?

[Lagrath]

I am looking very much forward to this unveiling!

 

And I have just now read your campaign story posted above. That was an excellent read, let me tell you. Do you have more stories from the campaign to tell?

 

Thank you! I think I wrote one or two more chapters, I can go look. Maybe I just had them written in my head.

 

I actually had a narrative arc in mind for the whole campaign. After every campaign I tweaked it (I think I played 8 games for the campaign). I got very busy at that time (I started my Executive MBA on the weekends in mid-August, but am still working full time on top of that, plus newly married). If there's enough demand, even a handful of people, I would finish the whole story. I have a lot of cool characters and twists I was going to introduce.

[Excessus]

I opened the topic and started liking stuff because I haden't liked it apparantely...and then I noticed it was on page 8 and from three years ago and remembered why I stopped pressed like on your old updates...it's just too much awesomeness, I'd had to sit here all day!

 

Keep it coming! :D

[Lagrath]

It's the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. Presenting Hexfleet Virules:

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1002510799941625&type=1&l=b535704afe

Edited December 7, 2018 by Lagrath

[Strazhakov]

Super awesome army, dude. Congratulations!

Edited December 7, 2018 by Strazhakov

[El_Dicko]

Holy hell!!! Everything looks fantastic.

[Kythnos]

What a stunning army! Simply breathtaking. Some close-ups of your painted models in front of a less busy background would be great to look at, too :)

[Khornestar]

Years of waiting worth the payoff. Absolutely badass, dude.

[Excessus]

It looks absolutely stunning mate! Well done!

 

What are you gonna do now then?

[Lagrath]

It looks absolutely stunning mate! Well done!

 

What are you gonna do now then?

 

Great question! Normally I would throw myself into the hobby, both narrative and ITC competitive, now that I finally have a painted army that will return to me after six months of absence! 

 

However, I started my Executive MBA in mid-August, which is every other weekend with lots of work in between. Brutal program that lasts until May 2020. In August I also got married, and February 1st (a week before I head to the Las Vegas Open) I move into a big new house from my current little apartment. Lots going on!

 

Between being newly married and starting my MBA, and of course work being very busy, my time will be limited. However, I plan to become more active with video battle reports and narrative stories and sometimes still a tournament. 

 

Today I set up accounts on Instagram and YouTube! Follow me! 

 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hexfleetvirules/

 

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRHoFOxmDJBw6uUHgWpN3GQ

Edited December 9, 2018 by Lagrath

[Lagrath]

Time for a new short story / battle report! Tested out a new 2,000 point ITC Death Guard list for the Las Vegas Open – despite being tournament prep, it was an incredibly narrative game!
 

***The Dead Sands of Vigilus***

 

 

“Oi! Fasta ya gits! Dey ain’t movin’ so we gotta get to ‘em!”
 

The Evil Sunz Warboss was so loud, Virules could hear him bellowing out of the Battlewagon on the other side of the sand-buried ruins. Or maybe the Orkish ruckus was simply being carried on the powerful desert winds blowing across this forgotten corner of the planet.
 

Virules slowly closed his eyes and shifted his vision to a top-down view of the battlefield, aggregating the inputs of countless diseased flies he’d released into the air upon arrival. The Speedwaaagh had arrived with aggravating but not unpredicted haste; it would have been too much to expect that he’d be able to complete his work on Vigilus un-harassed. As a sorcerer he knew well that everything always came at a price. To enact the Grandfather’s work on the planet before the Warmaster arrived in the system, the price would be blood.
 

The Plaguelich blinked his view back to normal, or what counted for normal after centuries of transformation. His landing strike force was aligned in tight formation, a small force compared to his Hexfleet in orbit. All the better to escape detection by the psychic and technological surveillance scans of the other factions vying for the planet. Regrettably, Orks seemed to have an odd way of sniffing out a fight that surpassed the limits of conventional detection methods.
 

He stared impassively as the Orks barreled closer in ramshackle vehicles, on foot, and in the air. Most commanders would need to worry about the nerves of their troops in the face of such a violent wave. Virules had no such concerns. His lines were arrayed in a long wall of the walking dead, still as the grave. Behind them waited demonically-possessed Plagueburst Crawlers. Virules himself waited in the center of the line. The undead around them pulsed with the blessings of the Warp, soaking in the tolling of the Noxious Blightbringer’s bells, the sacrosanct chanting of the Tallyman, and the sorcerous aura radiating from Virules himself.

 

 

 

One large squad of Orks on foot came to a halt inside the crater-filled ruin at the center of the square, content to dare the Death Guard to come to them rather than facing the fury of the Plagueburst Crawlers and their plaguespitters. Unfortunately, the shelled cathedral was one of the three locations Virules needed to claim. To enact his ritual and bring more Neverborn to the surface, he needed to control a rough triangle of spots in this long-ruined desert town.
 

Unknown to the Orks, and perhaps even to the current Imperial defenders of Vigilus, these three buildings had once made up a triad of Adeptus Sororitas facilities for healing and blessing the sick and the dying. The potency of Grandfather-blessed sorcery depended, as it did so often, on the implications of the underlying Sacred Numerology - symbols, angels, numbers, and other arcane and mathematical items whose interlinked fates were clear to the followers of the Plague God.
 

The two large Battlewagons split off, one to each side of the skeletal remains of the central cathedral. Virules could sense that one wagon contained the Warboss, an Orkish Psyker, and a large retinue of bloodthirsty Nobs. The wagon on the other side of the building had already answered any questions as to its contents. Twenty Tankbustas suddenly stuck their heads and weapons out the windows and roof as their ride came closer. A massive rain of rockets flew out of the Battlewagon, burying the Plagueburst Crawler on the Death Guard’s left flank in such a deluge of firepower that it was instantly taken out of commission despite its unholy wards and unnatural resilience.
 

Lucky or not, the Tankbustas were clearly a dire threat to the Death Guard’s ability to counter superior numbers with anti-infantry armor. Virules had hoped to save his trump card for the Orkish foot infantry and the Warboss’ Nob retinue, but the disease must adapt to conquer the host. He silently sent a psychic signal up to his flagship in orbit.
 

On his opposite flank, Virules sensed the imminent surge of Orkish eldritch energies. Green lightning cracked the air and another huge horde of Orkish infantry burst into being, bellowing and barreling with violent force into a squad of Poxwalkers. The brutes hit hard, quickly reducing one of the shambling hordes to a single survivor. If that word was appropriate to describe a member of the undead.
 

The Plaguelich quietly raised an arm in the direction of the conflict, sending quick mental commands and drawing hexagrammic symbols into the air with one finger. As the sole Poxwalker fell back, two nearby Plagueburst Crawlers moved up and torched almost two-dozen screaming Orks in boiling green flames. As soon as their bodies fell, the green flesh began whitening and falling off like burning paper. Within moments, sorcerous impulses infused a new horde of rotting skeletons, restoring the right flank to full strength as the fallen Orks turned on their remaining kin.
 

A second thunderclap impacted on the left side of the battlefield between the Tankbustas Battlewagon and the furthest away of the three objectives. Ten Blightlord Terminators announced their arrival in a burst of bloated flies and ancient teleporter technology. Moments later a Nurgle-blessed Terminator Sorcerer from an unnamed Legion teleported in behind the safety of the Blightlords. A Death Guard Chaos Lord with horrific green wings landed next to him, swooping down like a concealed bat from his hidden alcove on a nearby roof.

 

 

The result was a foregone conclusion as the Hexfleet forces coordinated with experienced synergy. The left flank Poxwalkers rushed up, pushed forward with unearthly speed by the doling bells of the Noxious Blightbringer. The Foul Blightspawn rushed in behind them, just within maximum range of his horrific arsenal. With the flip of a switch he activated the hose on his side, dousing the Battlewagon with a huge layer of sizzling green chemicals.

 

 

The poorly-constructed transport dissolved almost instantly, a few of the Tankbustas melting to death before they could bail out. As the rest of the mob gathered their bearings, the nearby Blightlords calmly leveled their combi-weapons and shattered all of the surviving greenskins in a shower of plasma and bolter rounds. A few of the Blightlords charged a short distance into the ruins on the far side of the battlefield, easily stomping and kicking the ten hiding Gretchin to death.
 

His left flank and the furthest objective secured, Virules knew that the rest of the battle would hang on his ability to overcome the rest of the Orks without the help of his elite terminators. With another burst of psychic signals and short-distance vox commands, the Plaguelich and his forces surged forward out of their deployment arena. He infused the central squad of Poxwalkers with a wave of hexes and Warp energies, sending them to charge through the middle cathedral at the large squad of Orks hiding in the craters. They quickly overwhelmed the greenskins, eating and clawing most of the Boyz to death and securing the objective with superior numbers.

 

 

Virules looked to the side of the cathedral and saw a huge greenskin with a unique-looking claw jump off the Battlewagon, the Orkish commander shaking the ground and blowing sand everywhere with his landing. The Ork looked around with evil red eyes, brutish cunning appraising the Death Guard momentum carrying the Heretic Astartes to dominance across all key locations in the town.
 

Throwing back his head, the Warboss released a huge roar that shook loose chunks of sand on ruins all around the square. From all angles, hidden Orkish reinforcements burst into the town. Four Deffkoptas roared down from the angry skies, landing next to the cathedral and unleashing a hail of missiles into a Plagueburst Crawler, which luckily fared better than its earlier brother.
 

On the right flank, the Orks who survived the plaguespitters were joined by an unstoppable green tide of new Boyz flooding in from the town’s edge. On the left flank, 10 Stormboyz dropped from the skies and prepared to assault the Renegade Astra Militarum regiments holding the Death Guard rear deployment. Worst of all, an Orkish shaman and numerous massive Nobz with large machetes poured out of the Battlewagon behind the Warboss. One of them carried a huge banner with crude symbols of their false gods.
 

The second wave of greenskin assaults threatened to break Death Guard lines bereft of the Blightlords slowly shambling over from the other end of the battlefield. The Nobz charged the Poxwalkers in the cathedral, which were reduced, like their early brethren on the right flank, to a sole dead warrior. Despite having been restored to full strength earlier, the rotting soldiers on the right were completely wiped out by the crashing reinforcements of thirty Boyz.
 

Virules looked around, the battle now so close that there was little need to rely on his eyes in the sky. The Stormboyz on the left flank fortunately landed too deeply in the sand to charge the traitor mortals. The sorcerer turned away from the struggling xenos – the lasguns and Foul Blightspawn on that flank would be more than enough to eliminate ten trapped Orks.
 

He sent the sole full-strength Poxwalker squad from the left flank into the Nobz in the center building, simultaneously casting more spells to Nurgle so that the other, nearly-gone squad already in the craters would be reinforced by any dead Nobz. Pushing past two Poxwalkers shambling at his side, Virules began a slow cataphractii-armored gait towards the Warboss, holding his scythe straight out in challenge. He had to eliminate the alpha beast if there was any hope of holding the center cathedral and the right flank. So often, Nurgle asks his children to take their fate into their own hands.
 

The Orkish leader duly complied, bellowing in a guttural language and smashing aside zombies to reach the Death Guard warlord. Taking only minor injuries from the host of vicious winged insects Virules sent at the Ork on the charge, the Warboss raised a huge relic claw and landed a half dozen colossal hits. Fortunately, the ancient terminator armor and Virules’ own potent hex-based wards deflected almost all of the hits without damage.

 

 

The Warboss gaped at his claw in stupid confusion; clearly the weapon’s results were typically different. As the Ork reared back to strike again, Virules interrupted and surged forward with Warp-infused speed. The Plaguelich landed a brutal cross, cutting a huge X across the Ork’s chest with a massive scythe said to have been blessed by the Grandfather himself. As the Warboss stood stunned, Virules whirled in a dervish of green feathers and black robes. The sacred third blow ran across the Warboss’ shoulders, cleanly decapitating the massive Ork in one cut.
 

Virules was moving again before the dead Warboss even hit the ground. He cleared the right side of the ruined cathedral and immediately impaled the Nob with the massive banner, holding him high in the air on the scythe for the rest to see before throwing the body into a nearby crater. The four Deffkoptas flew over him, hitting Virules with several crude bombs.

 

 

The primitive contraptions proved more effective than the Warboss, taking large chunks out of the sorcerer’s armor and protective wards. Shrugging off the damage, Virules did a half-turn and thrust an open palm towards the Orkish shaman desperately attempting to siphon power from the rapidly-declining greenskin numbers. Thick clouds of diseased flies again flew out from underneath the Plaguelich’s robes, this time consuming the far inferior Orkish psyker in a thick black swarm of stinging and biting insects.

Distracted, Virules was blindsided as a huge presence crashed into his right side and lifted him into the air despite his bulk and terminator armor. The remaining Battlewagon chose to stop the sorcerer’s rampage by charging with brute force, the massive Deff Rolla carrying the already-wounded warlord straight through one of the cathedral’s remaining walls and trapping him against a pillar with crushing force. As the Battlewagon continued to press into his chest, Virules knew that even his superhuman constitution and thick armor were too damaged to survive being pinned for much longer. He again sent a telepathic missive to his fleet in orbit, quickly fading from the planet as the flagship’s teleporters locked on to the beacon inside his armor.

 

 

 

Despite the Orkish vehicular mayhem, the Hexfleet’s victory had been secured. The Boyz on the right flank were being wiped out by the two remaining Plagueburst Crawlers, Poxwalkers had cleared the Nobz down to a few desperate survivors, the Stormboyz were annihilated where they had landed, and the Blightlord Terminators had almost reached the central cathedral and were pouring combi-fire into the Battlewagon. Nurgle’s chosen clearly held all three objectives, and soon the ritual could commence. Despite the ferocity of the Evil Sunz, at least for now, the sands of Vigilus belonged to the diseased, the damned, and the dead.

[Lagrath]

As a heads up, due to popular demand, I now have my own YouTube channel! Not only will I be filming battle reports with my beautiful army, but I've started a new Chaos focused livestream video podcast called Warp Surge Radio!

 

Please check it out and subscribe! I recommend starting with the second episode because the video and audio quality is much higher, after adjusting some things following my first livestream. 

 

www.youtube.com/hexfleetvirules

 

Episode 1: Shadowspear Leaks: https://youtu.be/aCFezn1c8iA 

 

Episode 2: Playing Chaos Post-LVO: https://youtu.be/9KStktrkQZ0 

Edited March 13, 2019 by Lagrath

[de Selby]

Thanks for the Psychic Awakening Death Guard breakdown.   And great army!

 

I've been playing lots of daemon engines throughout 8th and I don't think I am going to be switching to 20 man plague marine squads, but it's nice that they're trying to make them more effective (with strategems, just like they did with Thousand Sons).   Will probably get good use out of Poxmongers rules, and try out The Harbingers (poxwalker mayhem) and The Wretched (see below) for fun.

 

Three points I noticed:

1. You zoomed past the Warp Toll strategem because it's it's for Blightbringers only, but I think Blightbringers are going to be more common because of Daemon's Toll.   I'll probably take one for the invulnerable saves, and then the chance to really punish a nearby enemy unit if it has to take a morale test could be a great use of a command point.

 

2. The Vominrix actually does twice the average number of hits that a standard Plague sprayer does (7 is the average for two D6's), so it's going to be much better against 1 and 2 wound infantry.   However that's not how I usually use my Plague sprayers, and it's using a relic spot to replace a weapon that's already great and now benefits from a great strategem, so I'd probably only take it for fun if I was allying in Ku'Gath!

 

3. As I read it, The Rotted Veil can be used after your character moves or deep strikes, so could be used to bring in 20 plaguebearers with an instrument of chaos (for example) alongside.   I never usually summon anything because I need to move my characters around, but I will definitely try this out.

[Lagrath]

Thanks for the Psychic Awakening Death Guard breakdown.   And great army!

 

I've been playing lots of daemon engines throughout 8th and I don't think I am going to be switching to 20 man plague marine squads, but it's nice that they're trying to make them more effective (with strategems, just like they did with Thousand Sons).   Will probably get good use out of Poxmongers rules, and try out The Harbingers (poxwalker mayhem) and The Wretched (see below) for fun.

 

Three points I noticed:

1. You zoomed past the Warp Toll strategem because it's it's for Blightbringers only, but I think Blightbringers are going to be more common because of Daemon's Toll.   I'll probably take one for the invulnerable saves, and then the chance to really punish a nearby enemy unit if it has to take a morale test could be a great use of a command point.

 

2. The Vominrix actually does twice the average number of hits that a standard Plague sprayer does (7 is the average for two D6's), so it's going to be much better against 1 and 2 wound infantry.   However that's not how I usually use my Plague sprayers, and it's using a relic spot to replace a weapon that's already great and now benefits from a great strategem, so I'd probably only take it for fun if I was allying in Ku'Gath!

 

3. As I read it, The Rotted Veil can be used after your character moves or deep strikes, so could be used to bring in 20 plaguebearers with an instrument of chaos (for example) alongside.   I never usually summon anything because I need to move my characters around, but I will definitely try this out.

 

Thanks for watching! Make sure to Subscribe on YT and follow on FB. 

 

I think you have a good point about Tallyman being more common if you take infantry. Also, morale might be a lot more important than 9th.

 

Yes, I realize I mis-stated the amount of Blightspawn shots. I do think it has a place, but not worth taking that company for. 

 

I do like Rotted Veil a lot. I wish everyone had access to it. It would be great on a Daemon Prince moving fast.