The Odyssey of the Penal Company. Chapter 3

"All I'm saying is, like it or not, I am your second in command. You could try giving me some responsibility."

Vyet's face appeared more serpentine after each battle. The city must be mutating him somehow. Darza himself felt the familiar humming of chaos within his bones. He’d nearly forgotten, but now it felt like a breeze, where it used to feel to him like a furnace. Vyet’s skin seemed to be green and dry, and Darza could swear he was seeing a forked tongue in the man's mouth. "You are no more my second in command than that thing." He pointed to a zombie which had been chained to a tree in order to protect the living from the wrath of their vampire commander. "You have done nothing. My last second, Graeykl, was a beast in man's skin. Give me a reason and I will give you respect."

Vyet leaned in close. "There are rumors of more greenskins coming in through the East gate. It may be an easy win. All we have to do is drive them off. Make them want to go in through another entrance. It could help our local reputation."

"Information is still nothing. Make me respect you. Though I'll seize this opportunity. We move."

The greenskins were slowly advancing on the city gate. A handful at most. Easy prey. He had his men spread out to intercept. Staggering zombies and the like. Vyet positioned himself in a ruined temple and gave Darza an evil glare. Darza figured he'd pay for that one later. He positioned himself in the floor of the temple, alongside Ned. The orcs made their move, and were met with resistance. A giant orc with a boar tusk helmet roared and charged through the gate, followed by another massive orc with a two-handed axe. Good, enough to satiate his thirst. He heard Vyet mumbling some words as the orcs advanced. Suddenly, there was a blast of black smoke from the earth and a thousand skeletal hands reached up, dragging the helmeted orc into a shallow grave. The orc howled in defiance as he was pulled asunder. The other orc seemed nonchalant about his commander's fate and plunged into combat, engaging Darza. The tagalong goblin seemed to give Darza some added fervor, and he managed to kick the goblin in its bulbous nose while his shield intercepted the massive orc's charging blow, before putting his full weight on the tiny beast’s chest, crushing it to death, while his rusted steel raked across the orc's face. It grabbed at its face with one hand and swung its ax at the air wildly in defiance before the greenskin dropped to its knees. It looked up with one eye, its other gushing blood, and with a casual swing of his ancient shield, Darza sent it down without hope of it getting back up soon. Darza would come for this one later. He hadn’t fed in some time, and it was clearly larger than the other orcs. It was worthy.

Outside of the building, Buford was left alone with a zombie to try and break the orcs that came to his position.. He'd been affectionately calling this one Maggot. Maggot had apparently been a privateer. And not too long ago. He'd maybe been stewing in the river for a month or so. Been nibbled on by all kinds of critters before Vyet had gotten to him, he reckoned. Either way, Buford felt more secure having someone next to him...even if Maggot would kill him without thought, given the order. He awaited the orc host and heard them coming. Some kind of large red thing, with a mouth full of teeth half-bounced, half-waddled around the corner. It had two legs, but they both ended in long claws. A goblin followed it, and a second...thing...followed the goblin closely. All three of them charged the man. He was confident, even though his leg still had painful pangs rolling through it. The things both hit at once, and he saw the world go black beneath the beast...

Darza heard a high-pitched scream and went outside to see two squigs atop Burford. That man needed to be whipped into shape. Literally whipped. Darza would see the “army” he was given rise to greatness, even if that meant he had to remove the cancerous bits himself. In fact, he preferred it that way. Fear was the most powerful motivator he’d ever known. The vampire leaped out of the building through one of the long-abandoned broken windows, landing nearby and charging the goblin. Darza skewered the beast between the ribs, raising it up to eye level, that he could see all of the useless life flee the thing's fragile body. Its head lolled over dumbly. Pitiful creature. Not at all a good design for a warrior. And yet, it bested his man...sickening. He looked out to see another orc with a bloody weapon advancing into the city, and called his men to flee. They'd spilt blood this day, but not enough to break the resolve of the greenskins. He motioned for his men to move out, and the undead fled the field, happy with their loss thus far.

After the orcs had come back and dragged off their dead and wounded, Darza did a tally. All the zombies were present. The only one missing was Clovis. He found the body behind a tree. There were so many pieces that he was actually impressed with the orc who did the deed. And it had made an affort to mix the pieces with one of his zombies, as if that would have stopped him from raising whatever it would turn out to be. Buford's arm was mangled and needed a bit of time to heal. The greenskins’ beasts were good at eating, judging by the ripped flesh of the man’s arm. If that man spent as much time training as he did healing, maybe he wouldn't be wounded so much, Darza mused. Vyet was rather confident that he could stitch the dead man back together, and make a zombie of him. That was one way to solve his mental issues. The vampire chuckled over that one. Ned seemed disheartened about the whole affair, and Darza realized that he needed his men in ship shape. After all, with Buford spending more time in the infirmary than the field, and Clovis having far more surface area than ever a man should have, he needed his men in good mental condition. That meant that they didn't need to fear future service after their tour of duty officially "ends." 

"Dig a hole. Let it rest."

He did need to replace the man though, but wasn’t worried. It wouldn't be hard to find an incompetent moron in this city. Ned picked up a shovel, with the intention of digging the hole, but Darza stopped him. "No. I need you to find his replacement. Take some coins. Find me a criminal. Someone who won't be missed. Someone cheap. Don't tell them what its for. You. Dig the hole."

He pointed a steel-encased fist at Vyet, who had a shocked look on his face. "But...I'm a man of learning, not...not some kind of...l-laborer!"

Darza tilted his helmeted head back a bit. The kind of tilt that implied horrid consequences if conditions are not met. Vyet reluctantly grabbed the shovel and stabbed it weakly into the dirt. Darza began to walk away, but stopped and turned. "Vyet the Necretard. You have done well this day. But not THAT well."

Space Marine: A Video Game Review

So, I found myself having a lot of time lately, and having only a handful of things to do in a day, I decided to get a new game. At Gamestop this game, which was $60 around Christmas, was down to $20. I heard it flopped, but I figured that people couldn't get into the backstory because there's a lot of content in that universe. There's a lot that a space marine can and should do for a cool video game, and I figured that with as much money as Games Workshop brings in (from me, mostly), they should have a pretty solid game.

Now comes review time. My vengeance!

Ok, so first off, I was expecting something maybe a bit more tactical. Like, maybe you could take cover behind things, or order your guys around some, because that's the kind of thing that people who live through wars tend to do. No. You can't. And, in fact, cover will catch your bullets if you want to shoot over it. Even when you miss it. Or maybe you could jump. And I know that armor looks like it weighs a ton, but those guys are supposed to be genetically engineered for maximum size and strength. They're supposed to be like, seven feet tall each. Also, that suit looks like it has a teeny-tiny rocket pack that might allow that. But no, you can't jump. They give you a rocket pack for one level (so far), but the rocket pack is confusing, doesn't work right, and is unnecessary for that level. It ended with me shooting in any direction, screaming "FLY ****ING STRAIGHT OR DON'T FLY AT ALL!" to my television while people hacked at my ankles.

You have a lot of health, and damage is a set amount, but they mob you with orks, which is cool, because that's a legitimate ork tactic. In fact, its really the ONLY ork tactic. And that gets old after ten minutes. I mean, the enemies are aggressive as hell, but they only do one of four things: shoot you, chop you, move closer TO chop you, or throw grenades. That's it. They have some beefy enemies, like the nobs (I assume they're nobs) which you can only kill by grenades, special kills (which are a huge pain in the ass), or by using enough bullets to shoot five guys in half. But with so damn many enemies in the game, you'd think they'd give you a variety. And I guess you get to shoot chaos space marines later on. Lazy damn developers.

You have a set limit of health, which sits in the middle of the screen, and some health that regenerates over time, but never much. And you can regain health by going into Fury mode, which is something no 40K content I've read has ever mentioned, so I think they made that shit up for the game. That's probably why it seems tacked on and (to be perfectly honest) poorly conceived. You can also gain health by executing people, but the executions aren't as cool as they make them out to be, because there's only one that I've seen per melee weapon, and the first time you feel like a bad ass, but after the fourth time, its like "Oh, that again." And they take time, and while you're performing the execution, you'll be choppd into ribbons by his friends. So health regeneration is a huge waste of time, unless its literally the last guy. That time could be spent better by hacking and slashing, which is really the only thing this game has in abundance. There are an assload of enemies to kill, regenerating your health is not worth your time, and you'll run out of ammo quickly because you don't get as much as you need and each of the billions of orks that somehow fit on these really small ships requires about four to down...provided they're not special in any way, because then they take like, minimum twenty bullets.

Right now, I'm entirely stuck on a train level, because there is some kind of ship flying around, shooting at me, that drops WAY more guys than it could EVER realistically hold, takes way too many plasma caster rounds for easy mode (I don't do first-person shooters...but I'll play through them if the plot is even remotely interesting), hides behind cover, and has a tendency to fly RIGHT ON TOP OF ME when I'm hiding and then shoots me to death. Every time. And if that doesn't work, it drops a dozen ax-wielding orks who hack me to bits while I try to drop my non-responsive gun that has shitty damage in melee. They gave me a pair of friends, but they have as much personality as linoleum and somehow do LESS damage. I think one of their names is Sidonus, which I remember because its the exact same name used in Mass Effect 2, which came out a couple years ago.

The plot is...a thing...I guess. You're a space marine and you have to prevent orks from looting some giant mech, because that makes more sense than just turning the damn thing on remotely or whatever. I mean, heaven forbid your weapon of absolute superiority is unavailable because there isn't someone RIGHT THERE WITH IT. There's some imperial guardsmen, which are just normal human soldiers, but I'm incapable of caring about the furniture in the room. I mean, they have a lot of "wounded" guys, but they're white noise in the background. When I can, I make an effort to walk on them so they know just how pathetic the game perceives them to be. None of them says anything, none of them can die, and none of them even have a damn name tag. For that matter, what's my guy's name? I think my two side-kicks said it a few times, but I made a point to actively ignore them once I realized that their more realistic names would be "Vanillian" and "Beardicus." My guy's just a guy who has a handgun, heavy weapon (a rocket launcher in this case), machine gun, sniper rifle, and melee weapon, just like any character from any first person shooter ever made. Wouldn't you know it? Same weapon set-up as Mass Effect 2, except that Mass Effect also has a shotgun.

Also, no co-op multiplayer. What do I have to do to make that happen in games again? That was what made games worth getting.

Warning: EXTREMELY accurate.

The game rewards the guy who chooses to hide like a coward and punishes the face-kicking space marine who plays like a space marine is supposed to...by kicking faces off. The controls are mushy, the story is lame (so far), the gameplay is weak, my allies have less personality than their armor, the enemies are generic and WAY too hard to kill, the gore is cool, but lack of diversity makes it old hat really fast, there is zero openness to it, so it probably has virtually no replay-ability, there is no character customization in campaign mode (so far), and the enemies are aggressive and literally nothing else. They're not even interesting. At least Kill Team (the ten dollar XBOX download) was fun at times. This one felt like a worse version of Kill Team that had better graphics, cost me more money, and somehow was a huge downgrade.

The Odyssey of the Penal Company. Chapter 2.

Morning. His men had been retrieved and were being tended to by Vyet who was...maybe not as much a doctor as he was a tailor. Darza heard the diagnosis with an apathetic expression dominating his face. "The ugly one is physically fine. Maybe a bit touched in the head. He hasn't spoken a word to anyone yet. He'd make a decent zombie. The other one is damaged. I recommend sleeping, or he'll be feeding the zombies by nightfall. Uh, also, I replaced our dead zombie. And one of the Middenheimers was good enough to die too, so I raised him also."

Ugh. Darza needed soldiers, not these...things. On the plus side, he'd seen Ned hanging about the outskirts of camp, practicing with his weapon. He was good now. It was evident that the rats had scared him into training himself. He would spar with the Buford until the man would wear out, then he would find something blunt and light and attack one of the zombies at random.  Darza also noticed Vyet pacing in circles, talking to himself. Occasionally referencing some book he'd brought. HA! Darza needed no books. Books didn't teach him to wield a blade. Books never saved a man from death. Books didn't make him what he is today. Stupid little man. He was unnecessary. Claiming to have power but being completely unable to show it. Pitiful. He had followed the humans, hoping to poach a bit off of them, as they did from him. Give and take is a dangerous game though. He kept his camp far away, and lit no fires. He heard whines coming from the living at first, but they quickly subsided. Raw food? Be a man. When the humans gathered their things and were off, he followed them, into a vast glade. He figured it would be wiser to emerge further down, that they wouldn't suspect him of treachery...though that is exactly what happened.

He emerged from the buildings into what must have been a park. Trees, hills, some towers and ruined buildings. Residential zone? Bah. The whole place reeks of the living. He noticed that this area must have been popular. Beastmen emerged from the city straight across from him. Orcs to his left, and...more undead to his direct right. He motioned with his sword that he sought a truce and the female vampire acknowledged it. The humans emerged across from his allies. This was going to be bad.

Darza's men were in position, and the orcs took position on a cliff, and drew their bows. Clovis screamed like a madman and charged the nearest foe he could see. A minotaur. He had a single zombie following his lead, with the rest of the zombies providing a shield from the greenskin's arrows. With an inhuman roar and a casual sweep of his weapon, both Clovis and the zombie went flying.

The greenskins seemed averse to attacking the beastmen, so some kind of sub-truce must have been made. Under normal circumstances he would have openly allied with the beastmen, but Darza was continually reminded of his switched banner. The orcs fletched his zombies, and they slowly began to go down. One of them, a goblin, of all things, decided to sprint into the zombie horde, and was followed by his beastman allies. Darza charged one of them; some kind of lesser beastmen, and with a small motion, flipped the thing on its back before plunging a sword in his back. He suddenly realized that he'd been so preoccupied with his situation that he'd forgotten any sort of tactics. His allies still far off, and his men being double-teamed. He looked at Ned, who'd been at his side the entire time. The gravity of the situation suddenly hit him. This would be another loss. He looked to the sky and shouted "FLEEEEE!!!"

Painting: An Easy How-To From a Lazy Painter.

Ok, lots of minis games involve painting. Its not mandatory at all. I have an entire dwarf army (the secret slipped) that's still pewter, and no one cares, even a little bit. I've played games that involved all pewter unpainted models and boxes on a kitchen table for terrain. It was as legitimate as any other game, but I personally don't feel as into the game when my stuff isn't painted. SO, that's why I'm going over this. This assumes that you've already got them glued together and they're dry. Also, this is just how I do it, and there's as many ways as there are people.

Supplies:
+A small lamp
+LOTS of brushes
+Paints
+A cup for water
+Toothpicks
+Various colors of ink
+Toilet paper or something similar
+Elmer's glue
+Superglue (in case you break a model)
+Sand
+Somewhere to paint that won't be disturbed for a while

Ok, here's the why of it all now. The lamp is nice because you can see what you're doing, and you can catch details that you may otherwise miss. You'll need lots of paintbrushes because eventually you'll start specializing them (if you're like me). Also some of them will die and need to be replaced if you're not very gentle, which I am not. Paints depend entirely on the painter and what's being painted. I prefer Citadel, but that's only because its what I know. Others are probably just as good, if not better. I HATE painting with oil-based paint though. Its messy, cleaning is even messier, and you don't get much forgiveness out of oil-based paint. And I LOVE having multiple shades of the same earthy-tone colors. I think I have three greens and 5 kinds of brown-esque earth colors. I like having so many shades because lots of people have leather straps and such. Horses are earth colors, BUT they have leather on them, and it looks better when the leather is a different color. Additionally, if you're using any sort of cavalry, making horses of different colors is nice for realism's sake. And I've found that you can make convincing rust with only two different browns. Beyond that, having a single shade of each basic color isn't a terrible idea, until you decide what colors you specifically need for your army. Having one of each is also nice because you can mix them, but I've found that I only mix for colors I don't plan on using much of.

*Our subject for this part is the Ogrun Bokur. He looks pretty sweet, he's useful, and I wouldn't mind having a pretty one anyway.  Time to get painting then, eh?*

I prime mine with the cheap fast-dry spray paint from Walmart. Its a buck a can and it doesn't go super far, but it also doesn't eat the models. You want a decent coat when you spray. Enough to get most of the models, but not so much that you start filling in details. I find that a good 5 second wave per side per model is adequate. You CAN use white or gray or anything for priming, but it'll change the shade of the paint you put on top, and my models tend to be darker, just because I assume the soldiers would all be filthy from being outside for days. Do NOT dip them in paint. It ensures that the model will need an overnight bath in acetone, and that will probably cost you a new base for the model.

After priming them, look each model over carefully. I think think a lot of people skip this step, and its important. Plan out a little bit of what you want. I find that if I have an idea of color scheme, i put a dab of each color where it goes, just to see if it all looks good. And if so, I paint the whole thing like that. The key concept here is to BE CAREFUL. If you take a second or two to plan what you're going to do, you're less likely to smudge. Smudges happen to the best of us, and you can go back and fix them. I ALWAYS go back and fix any smudges, just because i'm a perfectionist. Also I assume that if I paint them right the first time, I won't have to paint them again. It IS a mind-numbing job, but with the tv on, its so much easier. Also, when painting, take breaks when you feel you need them. It takes a lot out of your back, neck, and mind. Give you a break, you're working hard.

I always paint the bits deepest down first. If the model is wearing a vest over a shirt, paint the shirt first, THEN paint the vest, because the vest is a raised surface, so smudges will be light. Also, I've noticed that most people use way more paint than they need to, which makes the models look blobby and the details look muted or even disappear. In my opinion, its best to do a couple coats of a thinner paint than one coat of thick paint. BUT, keep at it! You'll make a lot of progress if you keep at it. I always keep toothpicks on-hand for small stuff, like teeth, eyes, rivets, writing, and any other extremely detailed work. It takes a lot of work to do those bits, and they're not at ALL required. And afterward you'll likely have to do some touching up, but its easy, and it makes the model look so much more impressive.

This took only about two hours, with the tv, and several breaks. However, I missed several patches. *sigh*

Then you need your inks. I prefer brown ink, though black ink has its place, as does red ink, and any other color. I don't use the other colors (anything but black, brown, and red) enough to justify the purchase. Brown is nice because it can fake weathering, dirt, grime, grease, tarnish, and adds depth. On skeletons, brown ink is absolutely ESSENTIAL because it fills in the cracks between the bones, making it look like both shadow and clinging dirt. On creatures with fur, it can add the look of layering and make the animal look natural. There's a reason brown ink is colloquially called "skill in a can." It makes the most mediocre models look gorgeous. I use black ink on things that are supposed to be burnt or especially mechanical, and red ink makes for the best blood I've ever seen. If you want to make one of your guys look hardcore, a dab of red ink around an "injury" will do it. Cut him across the chest with an exacto knife (if the model is plastic) and administer a tiny bit of red ink for a warrior who's mortally wounded but fighting on. And using it is as easy as this process gets. Its pretty thin and flows really nice, so you paint over the entire model everywhere. The ink settles into the cracks and dries, putting dark colors in the nooks and crannies, so the model looks like it has some shadows where shadows naturally are. And more experience makes one better. I recently used brown ink to provide depth to blond hair by making the stuff on the bottom a tad darker.

A lot of people highlight after ward, which uses a process called drybrushing to add more contrast to the figure. Your model should be sufficiently dark now, yeah? Highlighting takes the same colors you previously used on the guy, and on the parts that would be exposed to light, like the head, shoulders, cape, back, and whatever else you can think of. You take one color at a time, apply it to the brush, and brush a piece of paper until there's almost no color when you brush. Then you brush the model with the color on the appropriate color, so it looks like some of it is exposed to light and other parts look like they're in the dark. I personally don't do this with anything, but I love the darker look. Highlighting implies direct overhead light, so its your call.

This is after some inking and some light highlighting over his belly plate, weapon head, and the white portion of his shield. 

The last step in our model is basing. Basing isn't necessary, but then again, any step listed is entirely optional. I have a small container of sand. I use it to stabilize models' position while the glue holding them together while drying. However, its also essential in basing, in my opinion. I got the sand from a sandbox at a playground. Then I ran it through a strainer to take out the gravel and larger sand grains. For basing, you take the model, apply Elmer's glue to the top of the base. Spread it around. Don't worry if you get some on the model's feet. It looks totally normal. Then (again with the optional steps) it looks pretty good to paint the sand a natural earth color, then drybrush over it, just like you're highlighting, except that if you screw up, even LESS people will notice. Sometimes people will flock the base, to make it look nicer, which involves putting a bit more Elmer's on it, then adding something that looks like tiny foliage, which Citadel sells to look like all kinds of grasses, grains, flowers, shrubs, undergrowth, etc, however, the train set stuff by hobby lobby works too. I've been using plain old crushed leaves lately. Crush them into teeny tiny pieces, and apply them to the bases just like you would with the other stuff, except that you paint lightly over the leave litter with brown ink because it gives them more cohesion, so they stick together, and it also adds shadows, which all piles of leaf litter have.

The white lines are to denote front arc and back arc, for playing purposes. However, that sand is as good as its going to get until I determine what specifically I want to do. 

Now you should have a lovely model that's ready for the last step: GET YOUR GAME ON.

The Odyssey of the Penal Company. Chapter 1.

This is not my terrain at all. This is terrain that makes me think less of my own.

One of his dregs got wind of a horde of stone on his trip into town. The rumor was the only thing sparing his life, as he also came in smelling of beer. Darza was no fool, but they took advantage of his…disability, and indulged themselves when they went to town, buying food and drink for themselves with their pay. They needed food, Darza remembered that, but he did not give them permission. It was his own tactic, starving the men for a few days, then giving them as much meat as they could eat, carved from the flesh of their enemies. It built a sense of hierarchy and respect for authority. Your lord giveth and your lord can taketh away. This would need to be dealt with, though he had no memory of which one had disobeyed. With the same weapons and armor, they all looked the same to him. Fancied themselves fighters, but they hadn't the faintest idea how to kill a tree, much less a man, much less a troll, dragon, or giant. An ax did not a god make. And the necromancer, with his fancy robes, could keep these pitiful man-bits together, which was his only actual use. He was fragile, and this caused the black bile within Darza to unsettle. This pathetic man could be put in the grave with a single firm hand, he mused. And if he proved truly pathetic, he very well may.

The group mobilized toward the horde, at a slow pace because of the zombies. The pace, while aggravating, had its moments of relaxation. Darza had given Vyet the job of cartographer as punishment. Also, the city was abandoned, which meant that no one else would be after these petty black rocks. They reached the pool and saw the still water. It was red. Darza felt his thirst welling up within him. But he wasn't certain if he needed to feed or kill. Either way, something was going to die. He hadn’t felt the life drain from a man by blade or fang since his first act of insubordination while still a fledgeling vampire in the service of his creator. His thoughts were broken as Darza saw shadows emerging from the mist. Humans. Massive burly men, with all kind of stupid contraption. He would feast. He knew this would be easy. However, more shadows emerged from his left. Little rats-things. Lots of them. Too many for even a bloodthirsty chaos knight vampire to take. And they appeared to have some kind of spellcaster. How did that even work? Darza's only thought was that without these stupid zombies, he could have raided the pool and been back at camp already. He looked his team down. He could taste their fear. From all save the zombies, but they had as much fear as ability. They wouldn't swing this battle at all. Pep talk time. "Blitz the pool! Don't come back until you have rocks! Flee without one, and I swear you will flee yourself onto my blade!"

The three dregs feared battle, but they feared their captain more. Buford, Clovis, and Ned raced toward the pool, each sure that their leader would punish the last man into the crimson water. Vyet attempted to advance, but was held back by Darza's arm. "Not you."

The zombies shambled forward. They wouldn't even be involved in this fight, Darza thought with disgust. He advanced in his heavy armor, with his chaos sword and shield, both heavily worn down by age and the slow spread of rust across unholy steel. They had all been re-gifted to him by his "judge" after spending the last twenty years sitting on some skeleton. All so his captor could get some laughs. Twenty years of rust and cracked leather straps. Nothing felt right anymore. His plates sagged in all the wrong places, and his helmet strap had been torn out, making it jiggle on his head when he moved. He felt his rage well up and charged into combat. Whoever these beings were, they would be gifted the punishment he could not give to his creator. The dregs were in the pool, sifting wildly. The humans were advancing, as were the rats-things, though the rat-things were faster. One of the dregs, Ned, whooped in triumph and sprinted back toward Darza, who was to cover their retreat. Buford and Clovis were wasting precious seconds, and the armor was slowing the vampire down. He wouldn't get there in time to hold ground while they searched.. As the two turned to follow Ned, the ratmen descended upon them. Darza could hear their terrified screams. Cowards. He looked to the leader of the humans and gave a slight nod of the head. The human returned the nod, scowl still on his face. This day, living and dead would fight an enemy that ate you regardless of your state of decomposition. He charged into the throng of rats, swinging wildly. His men had stopped their screams, but mostly because the ratmen had pried the stones off the boys. This is the best the men donated to him could do. Darza could only pull so much weight. The men weren't soldiers.

He heard a frightened yell behind him and saw Vyet, who was shooting his bow at some of the pathetic mice that had somehow flanked them. The zombies plowed into them, but they weren't doing much. A flesh wall, protecting a real asset. An incompetent one, but one all the same. Sword and shield were the arms of the monster in the combat. One of the rats struck him, sinking a dagger deep into an area where a plate had shifted due to the aged strapping. He was suddenly overwhelmed by frustration at his own gifted impotence when he heard a terrible explosion. Off to his right, one of the humans stood, holding some kind of smoking stick. Several ratmen lay on the ground, clawing at smoking wounds. So, they brought a sorcerer, eh? He too would meet his end. The pincer closed, and the humans crashed violently with the beasts, as Darza’s own forces closed in from the opposite side. 

Darza eyed the captain, knowing his own weakness, and the humans' penchant for greed, and stuck his sword deep into one of the last skaven to consider jumping so powerful a creature. He backed away, knowing a loss when he saw it. His two men were down, but he could pick the field for them later. At least humans didn’t eat their own. He made his hasty exit from the field, guiding Ned away. Suddenly, with a shriek, the ratman caster charged the pair and Darza threw himself in front of the Dreg. His shield absorbed the rampaging animal and for its trouble, it received a vicious swing of Darza’s own massive rust-covered shield, and the beast sprawled on its back. He needed to remind himself to sharpen his sword. This was unacceptable. The thing glared at Ned powerfully, and the terrified man gave a yell and hacked at the thing until it stopped moving. Behind him, his zombies were collecting throwing knives with their flesh. Darza looked around at the carnage and saw no hope of victory.

"RETREAT!!"

He looked back at the human captain, who gave a sinister smile and a nod of the head. Darza felt his lips curl into a sneer...

The Cryx scare the piss out of me. I wish I could play their style, so badly, but they're fragile and seem perpetually outnumbered in all the games I've seen them in. Maybe the Cryx can play a game of numbers, I know I just don't like their infantry. Either way, that's a sexy looking giant evil assassin steampunk robot, and that's a rare thing...

The Odyssey of the Penal Company. Prologue.

*One of the things I loved about Mordheim was the ability to make a backstory, and since your heroes started out without names, you got to name them. And since it was campaign-based and they leveled up occasionally, you really got a sense that you were playing a very narrow-minded adventuring party and the mooks that hang out with them. And with injuries gained from going down in combat, its easy to get attached to your guys. Even more so if you painted them yourself. Personally, I got really into the fluff of the world, as its so vibrant. The following is the first bit of my fan fiction, set in Albion, in the City of the Damned: Mordheim. I'll probably update it sporadically. Hope you enjoy!*

Darza looked through the bars of the jail-wagon. The skeletal horses pulling the wagon were galloping in sync. It was unsettling. He considered escape, using his considerable force to try prying a corner open. The hunched figure on top of the coach was undoubtedly dead. Its ankles had flaps of desiccated skin showing beneath the thin pants. Darza the Bloodletter, they called him, over twenty years ago, when he was alive. For twenty years, he'd been without purpose. A unique thrall to some low-life vampire. In life, Darza had been a chaos knight, leading a small group of marauders to map and plunder. He was hoping they'd find some obscure mountain pass that would lead them straight to a vulnerable target. He'd taken his thirty or so men and wandered the land, moving from farm to homestead and back, putting the torch to everything it would reach. When they crossed the border into Sylvania, they were ambushed and Darza was not killed instantly. He became the plaything of his master. When his master was politically outmaneuvered by a rival, Darza was put on trial. He had no idea what a trial was. The men of the North only engage in trials of flesh. This was a trial of words. He was sat down in a chair and was told that he was guilty of politics and was being punished by banishment. To some human city. It was already destroyed, he only had to collect some rocks. Sounded stupid. Sounded easy. He was assigned a team.

*sigh* The team. He looked at the others in the wagon. Vyet the Necretard, he was called by his new captor before being sent off. Vyet had tried to raise a host of corpses, and he succeeded. But they turned on each other, and Vyet. His master was, unfortunately, present, and was assaulted. He'd been given quite a scar, so this was to be his redemption. Then there was Buford. Some kind of bum, found living in a crypt, but not eating anything. He simply had nowhere else to go. He should have been skinned alive, crucified, and left outside the crypt. If his kind were unwanted, why was he not made to be an example to others? Ugh. And Clovis. Some kind of political malcontent, but of such low breeding that his blood was unworthy of consumption, and it pleased his captor slightly more to send him on a petty quest a thousand miles from home than to stab and re-animate him. Lastly, Ned. Apparently he kidnapped some protected merchant's daughter for some reason. If the merchant's master couldn't protect his spawn from one ugly living man, he should find a new master...

The city loomed in the mist before him. He saw a massive stone wall which, while old, did not seem necessarily abandoned. In fact, it looked like there may have been movement on the parapets. The cart stopped and the back door dropped, releasing the prisoners. The five men piled out, and stood there. Darza walked to the front of the cart. The skeletal horses must have been some kind of temporary undead. As he watched the pair, the jawbone dropped off the nearest one, hitting the cobblestone streets with a spray of tooth-shards. Khorne-forbid he could get a mount like a true knight of chaos. He turned to his "team" and took off his helmet, revealing an empty eye socket and a massive gaping wound on the lower jaw, like a second smile. "You. Follow me. Obey or die. I care not for any of you."

He spit on the ground, a wad of black liquid, to emphasize his point. Good pep talk. As they entered the city, they passed by the dried corpses of several people amidst the abandoned houses. Each looked to have died a horrible death by unknown hands, wielding unknowable weapons. He looked back at the dead eyes of the driver. "Bring him too." The pathetic necromancer gestured and did some kind of foul incantation and four corpses trudged behind the group. He looked at the necromancer and put his helmet back on. "I find them guilty. Of weak will. The conquest of the Penal Company begins now..."

Darza chuckled and entered the city gate.