The Final Score (The boring bit).
So while the final battle was finished, so too was the final round up of points. As it was the end of the whole Phase Strategic Objectives such as the flags gained from Bastians and from Manufactorum were added alongside the points for holding the Shard Keys.
|A bit out of date, will update soon.|
The final scores stand as the following.
- 1st Place: Rory and his Black Scorpions
- 2nd Place: Eivind and his Tyranids
- 3rd Place: Chris and his Dark Eldar (with side order of chaos)
Unexpectedly, the overall victor points wise was the nigh unbeatable Black Scorpions Chapter, dominating the territories of most worlds and seizing the majority of the planets key points. Next came Eivinds elusive Tyranids. Beginning being largely ignored in favour of other nemesis opponents, the Tyranid swarms took the rest of them by surprise. 3rd came the Dark Eldar of Chris, Ozzy the Archon has been a celebrity and comic genius during this campaign, offering gratify and sheer anarchic mayhem.
Magnus shared in the glory of the Bringers of Fire earlier on only to be left to fend for his own. Interestingly enough, in the finale, they had stuck to their allegiance to the Necrons with their former Space Marine allies, much to the hatred of Thomas' Imperial Guard.
William, a new player to 40k at the offset, suffered tremendous losses from the start, but as the campaign continued adapted tactics and produced the most new figures for his growing Craftworld. Near the end, he was seen as the greatest threat to Rory next to Eivind, sadly time ran out, and not enough ground could be retook.
Thomas, or Lucky as he would be known, came to enjoy an almost bizarre streak of bad luck with plasma. Seriously. It was weird. Having the hardest losses in the campaign, his personal moral and spirit to continue the fight despite the casualties was only paralleled by his in game Preacher, who became a thorn in the side of the Black Scorpions. Even going so far as to bring in rogue elements from the questionable chapter, further straining their mutually held hatred.
In the end, the biggest game maker was sadly Real-Life, as games ground to a minimum in the last few months. But more on that later.
|Tis but a scratch!|
Aftermath Narrative (The fun bit).There was so much history built up from this campaign (which was the initial point, screw the scores!) something to form new games from. Old grudges to take us to new places and old. The key points are below, but I will add new stuff if immediately relevant!
Of the White Hand and the fall of Ozzy.
The Iybraesil Craftworld was in morning. Songs and laments called in every spire and crystal garden as the dead were counted and the spirit stones set in the Infinity Matrix. More Wraith Bone suits would be needed to mount the increase in dead warriors.
Though their goals had been accomplished, the campaign had been a trial of fire for the warriors of the white hand of Iybraesil. The mystery of Rust, the dead crone world had finally been solved to a point, though in pushing their Dark Kin, had they set the coarse for the Archon's fall to chaos? Had their actions caused their undoing? Rust was still occupied by the Druchi of Ozzy, an insult that would have to be answered. Eventually.
Though for now, the predictions of this new Necron threat to the Galaxy had been proven, and prevented.
The ancestors had been right to fear this sector. The Necrons had been there, just as they had feared. Their plan unknown, but undoubtedly too evil to speak of. For months, the Eldar had battled the Necrons' unwitting allies, clinging to any glimmer of hope that the Necrons plan might be uncovered. There had been few victories and much death. The losses to Craftworld Iybraesil insurmountable. Time and time again their hopes and lives had been extinguished.
Luckily, in the end some idiot Mon'Keigh pointed his stupidly large gun at something he knew nothing about and accidentally stopped the Necrons entire plan.
Iyanna Stormrunner stepped into the cavernous chamber. The enormous metal statue loomed over her. She had failed her Craftworld, but her life would not be for nought. She would be the Young King, sacrificing herself to wake the Avatar. Her life for the survival of her Craftworld. Even as she fell, a warm glow emanated from the midst of the towering statue. The stench of burning blood filling the air...
|I love my job.|
Meanwhile, Ozzy, Archon of the fallen Kabal was having far too much fun. Whole planets under his domain, slaves beyond counting, ancient artefacts from the war on heaven? If he could only rid himself of these voices in his head, of these annoyingly playful daemons that danced in his mind or the predations of Lucious the Eternal (who by the way was a hoot at orgies), maybe he could get back to Commoragh and kick Vect out of that chair?
Then again, maybe these Emperors Brats could be useful?
Of the Scorpion and the Priest.
In the aftermath of the death of Solemnum, the Faustian Conflict took on a new shape as the fighting forces adapted and changed interests.
The Black Scorpions, victorious at little cost, took the machine works of Nolan, the survivors evacuated from Warrens End and the spoils of the many territories and withdrew in good order. Enemies awoke to find the neighbouring sectors completely bereft of the giant marines, their fast void ships making quick work of blockades and leaving the sector for their home in the Helios Sector.
They had been called back. Word of their actions in the Faustian Schism had reached unsympathetic ears and both the angered Adeptus Mechanicus, who had been horrified by the Space Marines blasphemous theft of Mechanicum property, and the Inquisition who had heard tales of witch craft and mutation demanded investigation. The whole Chapter, which had been under fearful eyes before, would come under attack. First by trial, then maybe, if things did not go well, by the Imperium itself.
However, with the spoils of war and the Black Scorpions own reputation for survivalism, the Helios Sector was heavily fortified to the point of paranoia. Could the Imperium afford a repeat of the folly of the Astral Claws?
Only time would tell...
Link to Rottimus' account. for more details on that!
Regiments at odds.
Trooper 23/3345 looked at the new markings on the starship wall. The bulkhead had been decorated in the numbers of the dead. It read like a maddening formula for most, but for him he saw people. To a point. Each one an act of redemption. His gaze though, unburdened of his gas mask for once, was staring at the golden mount. "The Last Duty", the Stormsword super heavy battle tank was engraved their with her crew. Certainly the cog heads would mourn the loss of the tank, but the act would be remembered.
He stared at his hands, bandaged. Like many of the plasma troopers. He had been informed that sabotage was likely. The why was still beyond them. It wasn't his job to think about such things, but he did wonder. The Inquisition? There had reportedly been a traitor working for the aliens. The Mechanicum? They hadn't been much help. The Officers were petitioning the Ecclesiarchy and the Munitorium already, regarding the Black Scorpions. Someone knew something. Maybe Inquisitor Dormenghast.
Trooper 23/3345 clenched his hands and fed off the honest pain. Kreig lived of pain and loss, it was pure. He just needed a new enemy to fight.
|The map says that way!|
Not in Kansas any more.
Brother Cyras feeled his way into the dark, The Duat as it had been called was impossible. It had taken everything he had to find an area with gravity and light. After he had emptied an entire clip of bolt rounds on the portal crystal, he had blanked out from a wash of green lightning. His armour was burned, blackened and dusted in charcoal. The systems were flickering angrily as the machine spirit ached, but that wasn't the problem. his battery power was running low. Hunger and thirst were not the immediate problem. Air was. This place varied so much in its atmosphere...
He checked his bolt gun, stroking it and soothing the spirit within. 3 times he had encountered the Guardian. A giant of immense power. He had seen it move through walls, seeking him. It had fought with something else, equally big. And it had recently lost. He was not alone.
As if summoned by the thought, the hairs on his neck stood, cracking with static.
"Tell me all you desire, and I will give it. Tell me all you will give, and I will desire it..."
A shadow loomed over him consuming the last of the light.
Next time, I'll be doing a bit of a review of our own campaign. Any questions, throw them down below and I'll be sure to answer them!
Thanks for reading!