The ineffability of Tzeentch

Bruchvir lay in the dust and the dark, coughing blood, racked by mortal agony.

It had started perfectly. The information from the spiteful leatherworker had been correct and Bruchvir had led his followers into their meeting place and slaughtered the vile followers of decay. Then they had waited in the shadows for the true target of their Master's ire - a be-tentacled Champion of Nurgle and his small band. The trap had been sprung, Tzeentch's fire had sprung from the Being within his blade, the enemy champion had himself fallen. Victory! And yet....

Bruchvir coughed again, weakly this time but the pain coursed through him from the wound in his side nonetheless. His mind ranged rapidly, images flickering and fading before him. He was Bruen again, sculptor's apprentice, happy at his work. The first man he had killed. The look on Adrienne's face as she turned his proposal down. Running through the forest. Taking over the warband from that fool who had begun to gibber and ooze. The old man from the university who had seen him rejected and offered his help. His joy at the screams from Adrienne's wedding to, to... no, the name was gone. Being chased from the city, accused of witchcraft, devilry. Weeping as he watched families gathering for the Spring festival, knowing he could never join them, marked by Tzeentch. A boy again. 

The next cough did not hurt at all, peace was coming. Bruchvir was Bruen again and he would have peace.

Then he felt/heard the Voice. If his blade had sung, this was every creature that ever lived in a choir that could not be unheard.

"Not. Yet."


My RoC warband saw its first two outings on Saturday in our long-awaited gaming day. The first game saw loads of rulebook flicking and I'm sure we got a couple of things "wrong", but it was still a hugely enjoyable game to break my 3rd Ed. duck with.

Tzeentch (me)

Bruchvir Daemonblade
   - level 10 human hero
   - heavy armour
   - Rapid Regeneration
   - two-handed sword containing a Lord of Change with nine spells

Beastmen x4
   - hand weapon
   - light armour

Bruchvir Daemonblade's warband at the start of the day...

Nurgle (antipixi)

Some guy with tentacles, a spell, and a crossbow
4 pestigors

We rolled 26 for our scenario, so I had my band laying in wait for the rotten bunch in an underground cultist cavern needing to steal away the Scroll (containing a greater daemon of Nurgle!!!). He had to escape with said scroll. He lined up his force as a single unit near the altar in the centre of the cavern, I lined mine up similarly to block the single entrance/exit.

Turn 1
Nurgle - Didn't move, shot his crossbow (and missed), and cast Assault of Stone, causing 1 wound on a beastman.
Tzeentch - Bruchvir and his warriors bravely advance towards the ugly miscreants, a Firestorm of Tzeentch erupting from Bruchvir's daemon-blade which enveloped a pestigor, slaying it in a gout of purple-tinged flame.

Turn 2
Nurgle - Remained in place, shot his crossbow (and missed again), and cast Assault of Stone, causing a further wound and slaying a beastman.
Tzeentch - Bruchvir and his warriors bravely advance towards the ugly miscreants, while a Pink Horror shimmered into existence above the still burning body of the slain pestigor and directly in contact with the Nurgle Champion, and promptly slaying the representative of the Pestilential Prince (Hurrah!). To follow this up, the daemon sword engulfed a further pestigor with eldritch fire, Transforming him by the power of Tzeentch into a slobbering pile of feathers, claws and pinky-blue protoplasmic gloop. The remaining pestigors fled...

Turns 3 and 4
Nurgle - run away!!!
Tzeentch - chase and engage in hand-to-hand. The pestigors proved quite adept in combat, slaying Bruchvir (whose Rapid Regeneration failed every time), before being cut down completely.

Post game
Nurgle - the champ and one pestigor came back, having only been knocked unconscious. The death from Transformation of Tzeentch was permanent, so he was one pestigor down in numbers.
Tzeentch - viewers of a partisan feeling may wish to look away now. I rolled 92 and 95 as my recovery rolls. So both of my casualties died permanently. Yes, I had won, but I had lost a beastman and my champion. *insert rude words here* But this was not quite the end - the next two dice rolls ensure that Tzeentch was not done with this champion's service yet, so he remained (along with his weapon, phew!) as an undead champion. I though Malc was going to wet himself as these dice were rolled and the full extent of my "victory" became clear....


The beastmen drew closer together as they realised that their leader was dead. Then, driven either by demonic inspiration, or by loyalty to his dead leader, or by sheer naked ambition, Dankpelt Goretusk pushed the other two aside and strode across to the slain champion of Nurgle. He reached down and snatched the scroll from one its myriad apparently lifeless tentacles and held it high, bellowing victory. A blue nimbus formed around the scroll and the beastman stepped awkwardly, a cheap marionette, towards the fallen Bruchvir. He touched it to the chest of the dead warrior, then staggered backwards.

Bruchvir stood. The blood no longer flowed from his wound, no longer flowed at all. Anyone who had cared to touch would have found his skin cold and his gaze lifeless, except for a tiny flicker of what looked like the certain and lasting knowledge of damnation...

The glow around the scroll spread, writhing and coiling around Dankpelt. His snout stretched and enlarged, large fangs sprouting and sharpening as his two fellows watched in awe, dropping to their knees. Bruchvir, or what had once been Bruchvir, did not even turn to look but stood impassive. Bruchvir howled his victory once more, snatching up a staff from the ground and impaling the scroll upon it, allowing it to unfurl. He held it aloft, his banner, gifted him by his Master and roared again, "Dankpelt! Dankpelt! Tzeeeeeeentch!"

A new Champion was born...