Race Through The Silver Tower, The Trinity And The Traitor Round 1
Today marks the second part of our Silver Tower Campaign but the first for the evil team. This will be exclusive to the Blog! Two teams of 4 will race through the Silver Tower. The first team is the Company of Sigmar who will be trying to slay the Gaunt Summoner, the second team is The Trinity and The Traitor who will be trying to get a powerful favour from the Gaunt Summoner. Both of the teams will be measured by how many attempts or rounds they have to play before they complete all of the missions and gather all of the Amulet pieces.
The mission order for this tournament will be as follows; Mission One - Hysh, Mission Two - Ghyran, Mission Three - Chamon, Mission Four - Ulgu, Mission Five - Shyish. At this point the team will need to have all 5 amulet pieces before they can attempt Mission Six - Azyr, Mission Seven - Aqshy and Mission Eight - Ghur. Any missing pieces will have to be collected by replaying the failed mission. The first team to gather all 8 amulet pieces will have won the race but will still need to defeat the Gaunt Summoner to become true legends. so without any delay The Trinity and The Traitor are ready, on your marks, get set, go!
Team Name: The Trinity and the Traitor
Team:
Butch the Darkoath Chieftain
Red the Slaughterpriest
Pox Riddle the Lord of Plagues
Malphikk the Chaos Sorcerer Lord
Round: One
Mission: One - Hysh
The Trinity and The Traitor.
The fragment of Hysh.
Part 1:
The Trinity.
As the figure vanished so too did the clawing fog. It lifted like a grey veil from Malphikk’s sight and he suddenly saw the dizzying height he had reached. The blackened earth at the foot of the slope was a distant black spot, and the lifeless panorama that surrounded Mount Uhlimpus appeared only to be a small circumference. It soon gave way to forests and settlements and in the far distance Malphikk could glimpse the Glass Sea and guessed that it would have been two maybe three hundred leagues from here. The worshippers of Chaos despise such things as beauty and tranquillity. But the one scrap of humanity within Malphikk marvelled at the vast breath taking expanse he could see. The rest of him however, wanted to burn it all to nothingness. But that distant shimmer of the Glass Sea in the birthing light of the day made him think he would spare it…for now at least.
His awe and quiet adoration of the outstretched view suddenly subsided as a fetid and stagnant smell shattered the quiet calm. Malphikk had savoured the scent of death and knew it well and at first that smell which filled his senses was like the warm and welcome greeting of an old friend. But soon that sickly sweet scent gave way to that of festering waste and putrid diseased flesh. The sour tang of rot suddenly became even too much for Malphikk to stomach and he lifted a hand involuntarily to his mouth. He turned to locate the origin of the odour and was confronted with the enormous shape of a bloated figure. The mist continued to roll away from the slope of the mountain and as it dissipated into the dawn a lumbering giant came into view in the form of an engorged man perched clumsily on a rock. He sat mostly still bar the slight, almost indistinguishable movement of his bloated rump shuffling for purchase on the small rock that could barely support it. The figure sat uncomfortably with its elbows rested on its knees, hunched forward staring into the ground through a blackened closed helmet. Every inch of the man was covered head to toe in crude black armour that was chewed and corroded with rust or eaten away by acid. The frayed armour looked like it would offer no protection at all, in fact pockets of putrid flesh protruded here and there amongst its wasted surface. The rotten skin Malphikk could see had long since lost its rosy pink blush and instead it was a sickly green dotted with dark brown blotches and purple pustules. The filthy flesh ran and dripped in a constant trickle of pus from weeping sores and danced with the wriggling and writhing shapes of maggots that crawled beneath the skins fetid surface.
This mortal man was truly a chosen of Nurgle, the Chaos God of plague and disease. Before, this man would have been Malphikk’s bitter enemy, their deities have had an eternal, furious rivalry and hatred of each other, and indeed Malphikk had led his forces against Nurgle’s followers many, many times at his Master’s command. But, Tzeentch was Malphikk’s master no longer and this meant that Tzeentch’s enemies were no longer Malphikk’s enemies, they were his allies. As Malphikk stood, beholding the foul man, preparing to speak, he realised that he truly had become the Traitor of Tzeentch.
“Well met Brother,” Malphikk spoke, fighting back the last spasms of disgust and repulsion for this man that still dwelt within him. The man of Nurgle lifted his head, and through the blackened visor of his helm Malphikk saw a single eye stare back, the black pupil was surrounded by a feverish yellow iris. The rest of the diseased eye was an angry and bloodshot pinkish hue and where his left eye should have been instead there was a huge bladed horn that jutted out from his skull, another blessing from his esteemed, diseased deity.
“I am Malphikk,” He began grandly, “I believe you have been sent to aid me?” The man of Nurgle nodded slowly, and then with a great crack of bone and squelch of moist flesh he rose from his seat. As he rose Malphikk saw he was as round as he was tall and when he finally stood upright he looked like an armoured boulder. The man stooped and scraped his massive shield from the floor, which was nothing more than a crude chunk of metal as thick as a fortress door, and with minimal effort he slung it over his shoulder. He stared at Malphikk for a while longer and as Malphikk opened his mouth to speak again, the man of Nurgle rested a festering hand on the pommel of his sword and nodded again to silence him.
The two stood in an unbearable awkward silence for what seemed like an eon, nothing but the light whistle of the wind encircling the mountain slope cut the eternal quiet. Just as Malphikk was about to attempt another clumsy conversation a suave voice slithered through the air.
“Do not mind him friend,” It spoke, “Our esteemed companion here does not talk much…if at all.” The voice was accompanied by the patter of footsteps and out of the rolling mist the statuesque form of a man appeared. He was adorned in the thick furs of many wild and exotic animals, however his bare chest was exposed to the elements, and it was nothing but a slab of chiselled flesh, stuffed full of toned muscle. An array of axes hung on his belt that served no other real purpose as the only clothing that the man wore below his waist was a loin cloth. Upon seeing him Malphikk almost had to do a double take, the voice that had spoken rang with the cool air of brilliance and clinical intelligence and yet the man who was approaching him was none other than a Darkoath Chieftain. These men were nothing more than savage barbarians, whose conversations consisted of grunts, shouts and flying fists yet this one spoke with the eloquence and charisma of a statesman. Most men asked the Gods for power and strength. It appeared Slaanesh had bought this man’s service with something far simpler; the power of speech and language.
“It is a relief to finally meet you Malphikk,” He continued, “We’ve been waiting here for days.” The Chieftain was casually tossing his broadsword between his hands as if the massive weapon were as light as a toothpick. He slung it across the back of his neck resting his arms on the blade and stood casually before Malphikk even as the blood began to well and trickle from his shoulders as the blade bit into his flesh.
“My name is Butch,” He began. Malphikk stifled a laugh.
“Butch?” He replied, “A strange name for a savage,”
“Yes,” The Cheiftain smiled, unsurprised by Malphikk’s disbelief, “They used to call me The Butcher of Malgarroth. But that was before I was enlightened by Slaanesh. Once he blessed me I figured being called ‘butcher’ was a little beneath my new found status, so I settled for Butch. A little less savage don’t you think?”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Malphikk smiled broadly and Butch took a further step towards him.
“Slaanesh has commanded I lend you my sword and so you have it.” With a smile Butch slung the blade from his shoulders and planted it in the ground before him. “I am in your service Malphikk, you’ll forgive me if I won’t kneel however.”
“I will,” Malphikk replied, and he extended his sword arm to Butch. The Chieftain took it and grabbed his forearm tightly in a warrior’s handshake. “Thank you Brother,”
“We are all in your service, until you have your revenge on Tzeentch and we have our rewards,” A cool smile spread cross Butch’s face and he flicked a long bang of silver hair from his face, “The silent one over there, Nurgle’s man? That’s Pox. Pox Riddle they call him. I’m sure he would call himself that if he ever spoke.” Pox gave another slow silent nod and also, drawing his sword from its rusted, decomposed scabbard, thrust it into the ground before him, in a symbol of solidarity. Malphikk favoured him with a nod of approval.
“Thank you Pox,” He said coolly.
“And Khorne’s man is over there…” Butch flung his head over his shoulder and Malphikk followed his gaze. Hunched over on his knees, stooped so low to the ground that Malphikk could barely see him over the jagged rocks that covered the slopes surface, was the silent form of a hulking man. His back and chest were bare, the flesh was so touched with a deep red blush of blood that it appeared almost crimson; the heat radiating off of his body smoked and steamed in the cool air. The man sat in silence holding his out stretched palms before him staring into his hands, lost deep in some quiet prayer. Even from a half glimpse past Butch’s shoulder Malphikk could see that the man was a Slaughterpriest, a devoted worshipper, zealot and preacher of the Blood God Khorne.
“That’s Red,” Butch said softly.
“That is not my name,” The man spoke suddenly in a vicious snarl and he suddenly rose to his feet, unfurling like a great banner until he stood tall towering over all of them like some demi god.
“Then tell us your name,” Butch replied unfazed by the sheer size of the man.
“Only Khorne may know my true name,” The man replied, and Butch rolled his eyes.
“Well then, Red it is…Red,” Butch sneered. The Slaughterpriest growled fiercely again but returned to staring back into his palms again, resuming his quiet reflection. Butch smiled at Malphikk. “You see why I was so eager for your company? All this time spent alone up here with these two. Have you ever tried to make conversation with a mute and a zealot? One speaks of nothing, and the other speaks of nothing else,” Butch flung his head backwards in a roar of laughter. This bellow of joy disturbed Red’s prayer once more and the mammoth man flung his hands from his face in frustration.
“You are fortunate, sorcerer, that Khorne in his bloody wisdom has chosen to help you in your quest. For if it were not his bidding for me to aid you and these others whom have been chosen, I would happily rip the throat out of your barbarous friend there,”
“Perhaps you will get your wish,” Butch announced proudly, “Once our task is complete and our bond is broken. I’ll happily let you try,” Red let a soft trickle of laughter escape from the darkness of his helm.
“Well then in that case we should get started. The sooner we start, the sooner we can finish and the sooner we finish the sooner I can add your skull to Khorne’s throne,” Butch licked his lips at the thought of the challenge and even placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, but Malphikk gripped his arm with a will of steel.
“Let’s keep things friendly,” Malphikk pleaded and stared into his eyes, a wild and furious glimmer had appeared in Butch’s lustrous purple irises.
“For now at least,” Butch agreed with a soft, disappointed smile, loosening his grip on his sword. But he still shot a cocky leer at Red the Slaughterpriest that confirmed their business was not concluded.
“Well then Sorcerer,” Red boomed in his deep baritone voice, “Shall we begin?” Malphikk nodded with a smile.
“How do we get there?” Butch questioned, and this only made Malphikk’s smile broaden.
“All followers of Tzeentch know how to reach the Silver Tower,” Malphikk began, “It is an ancient spell that is taught to us on our very first initiation into his order.” The sorcerer began to whisper softly into the air, and his staff suddenly burst into flames in his hands, the fires built in size and intensity until it was a blinding pillar of fire. The Trinity of warriors each recoiled slightly at the sight of the bizarre blue blaze that began to spill from the icon on his staff setting the ground around them ablaze. “I promise,” Malphikk continued. “That this won’t hurt,” The fire began to encircle the warriors slowly, the fires growing steadily until they became a towering wall that enclosed them all. Each one of them backed away from the searing heat of the fire, until they stood with their backs pressed against each other. “Not for long at least!” Malphikk roared with a peel of cruel laughter and as the final words of his incantation passed his lips the fires leapt forward and swallowed the company whole in a dizzying inferno.
When the strange blue and purple fire vanished, the mountain slope was empty, the Trinity and Traitor had vanished, leaving behind nothing more than a patch of scorched earth.
Battle Report:
The very first dice roll of the game resulted in all of our Destiny dice being taken off us! But this team wasn't exactly expecting many favours from the Dice Gods! The first enemies that we encountered were a couple of Blue Horrors and Acolytes, naturally Red was feeling angry and immediately crushed a Horror with his Wrath-hammer, Malphikk tried to blast an enemy from a safe distance but after a storm of bright lights he had only caused a single wound! Pox Riddle sensed an easy kill and he arrogantly strode up to his victim and missed multiple times with his Nurgle's Rot attack. This left Butch stranded behind the hulking warriors of Khorne and Nurgle, unable to go anywhere or do anything. The enemies were equally as unfortunate and only caused one wound. It did not take much longer to clear the room and we found some treasure and suitably Red discovered the Wrath Blood, which would make him even more mad!
Further on up the road we found The Way Divides which annoyingly split our area cards but also gave us a chance to spy on a couple of them and see what we were heading for. We deduced which path the final room lay upon and made our minds up that we needed more treasure and skills cards before attempting to take on anything too tough. After we had picked our first path of the split we came straight across the Librarian who would surely give us an advantage later on, Pox was first on the scene and did some massive damage to the beast but could not finish it off. Butch was determined to prove himself and get a kill, he ran 9 spaces, spent 3 dice moving, struck the beast and removed it's final two wounds, risk meant nothing to this champion of Slaanesh! The next room was dangerous and if we rolled poorly while in there we could end up suffering several wounds, the room contained yet another Pink Horror and we decided that Malphikk would take it out at range. The Chaos Sorcerer rolled up a powerful spell that could cause 2D6 wounds, we held our breath, he rolled a 3, just three! This meant that someone would have to go into the room, Pox took up the call. The Lord of Plagues slew the Pink Horror and the first of its spawnlings but once again Butch the Darkoath Chieftain was determined to make his name and ran unannounced into the room, cleaned up what was left and got out of there with a smug grin on his face! Just as he got out an unexpected event occurred and dragged everybody back into the danger room. Thankfully we got out relatively unscathed. But it was a case of out of the pan and into fire, the next obstacle was a balance test, fail the test and lose a wound. We lost 3 wounds!
Onto the final room, it seemed busy but we managed to squeeze in. It did not start well. Pox tried to do us a favour by casting Nurgle's Rot which hits every enemy in the room, somehow he managed to miss all 7! Then Butch suffered 2 wounds caused by the Blue Horrors and tried his treasure card the Sorcerer Shield but instead of protecting him it turned to dust! Pox had another go at Nurgle's Rot and missed everyone again, that made it 13 times in a row! All he needed was a 5+! Red was getting sick of this farce and so he used his Wrathblood and his Amulet of Fury treasure cards to give him a serous boost. This boost gave Red the strength he needed to completely destroy both a Pink Horror and a Blue Horror, which was enough to earn him a skill card! We felt as though the tide was beginning to turn at this point, until some of the dreaded Tzaangors turned up. For some reason Pox tried Nurgle's rot again, there were 10 enemies in the room, Pox missed the first 9 which brought his failing streak to 22! However just as the room began to laugh at him he hit with his last attempt and actually got a kill!
We were still massively outnumbered so we changed tactic and began to pick on the remaining Horrors, we butchered 3 Blue Horrors and 3 Elementals to even the odds. Our next problem though was the Tzaangors, despite frying them with the Searing Beams from the chamber, they were still very dangerous, especially with their beaks but somehow we were making our save rolls. Having a string of luck with saving rolls plus the Slaughterpriests ability to heal the party we were still looking quite strong. Eventually Malphikk realised his spells weren't doing enough damage and he joined the room, he cracked open his treasure card, Basilisks Tongue and turned two Acolytes to stone. With a bit more space on the board, Pox had room to manoeuvre into position to catch Tweek the Familiar who had been causing us a minor headache for a while now. After a real hard slog of a fight we finished off our enemies and healed our wounds. We were all out of treasure cards as we waited for the final boss. A weakened version of the Gaunt Summoner popped up and put 6 stun markers on our group, despite this he wasn't so tough and Red the Slaughtpriest got the final kill along with the first piece of Amulet, frustratingly he was only a single square away from earning another skill.
The Trinity and The Traitor
The fragment of Hysh.
Part 2:
The Traitor.
The golden statue cracked open like some bizarre egg, the thick solid gold flaking away like thin eggshell. The blue light that permeated from the cracks littering its surface were unmistakable to Malphikk and as his company of warriors stood dumbfounded at the sight; Malphikk was ready to face his dread foe his sword drawn and his staff already glowing with raw energy. The statue exploded in a roar of colourful flame and the plinth it had stood on blazed with a blinding inferno. The fires subsided and from the heat haze emerged the Guant Summoner. His freakish blue body stood elongated and proud before them, his horned head adorned with a maddening array of red and yellow eyes, each staring down at the warriors with malice. But the main two glittering obsidian eyes of the Gaunt Summoner were fixed on Malphikk a cool and pulsating hatred radiated from their blank stare. The two sorcerers stared at each other for what seemed like an age, and in that bitter glare the loyalist and the traitor of Tzeentch exchanged a silent war of words, each one waiting to see if the other would blink first.
Both Sorcerers held their nerve however, and their bitter glare was interrupted by a great and furious roar from Red. He leapt forward in a huge stride the dizzying whir of his wrath hammer swinging in his hand cutting through the silent chamber. He swung his weapon in a flash of metal and as it connected to the Summoner, the demon vanished in a puff of blue smoke. Red had barely time to register his confusion before the fell sorcerer appeared again before him with a bizarre cracking sound. The Slaughterpriest growled and was about to raise his crude Hackblade when the Summoner touched the tip of his staff to his chest and sent Red flying across the room with a confused scream. The hulking frame of the Slaughterpriest flew past Malphikk in a red blur before he crashed into the chamber wall with a deafening snap of bone and clatter of metal.
In an immediate response Pox lowered his head and charged at the Summoner like a rhino; his bladed horn protruding before him. Pox gave a low roar as he rumbled across the chamber, but the Summoner merely watched him approach, and just at the moment his horn would have pierced the sorcerers heart the Summoner raised one of his four hands in a cool and calm gesture of ‘stop’. The Lord of Plagues head suddenly snapped back so fiercely that Malphikk thought it had been detached from his body. Pox stumbled backwards and the Summoner swung his bizarre staff at him. It connected with the Lord of Plagues head and with a blinding flash of blue light Pox was sent sprawling across the floor, his body now illuminated with searing white flames.
Butch held his broadsword before him and circled the Sorcerer. He gave Malphikk a slow and steady nod and Malphikk understood his meaning. When Butch let out a fearsome battle cry that echoed around the room, Malphikk hissed into the air and set the icon on his staff ablaze. The Summoner turned to face Butch whose sword was in both hands raised so high above his head it was almost scraping the stony ceiling that hung high above their heads. As soon as his back was turned Malphikk thrust his staff forward and an arcane bolt of fire loosed from its tip. The fiery arrow soared through the air and just as it was about to connect with the back of the sorcerers head, he vanished again with nothing more than a wisp of smoke. The magic bolt continued however, and where the Summoner had stood previously, Butch was now in his place, still running with that battle cry ripping from his throat. The fireball struck Butch across his left eye, lashing the Chieftain’s head fiercely to the left and sending him somersaulting through the air, he clattered to the floor and landed in a heap of flesh and furs.
Malphikk stood alone in the chamber with his company littered around him, he span and wheeled around the darkened room waiting for the sorcerer to re appear. But it did not, the silence in the room began to build to a deafening crescendo, the eerie quiet enclosing around Malphikk’s throat suffocating his heart with tension and paranoia. As the panic began to set in, so too did the desperation and now Malphikk drew his sword. He loosed more arcane missiles from his staff around the chamber. They splattered against the chamber walls hitting nothing but stone and air. His breath started to rip from his throat in hurried rasps, he suddenly felt like screaming, demanding the Summoner show himself. He contained himself however; but only just. However, he suddenly became aware he hadn’t looked behind himself for a moment now, and he wheeled around with a scream flinging his sword before him. But again, he hit nothing but the clawing air of the chamber and cut through nothing but darkness. Perhaps the sorcerer truly had vanished. Perhaps he had merely revealed himself to demonstrate his power to Malphikk, to torture him with his arcane prowess. His heart lifted when he thought that perhaps it was over.
But when the soft trickle of laughter filtered into Malphikk’s ears his heart sank deeply into his chest. The laughter echoed around the room, but Malphikk could immediately locate the source of the cruel taunt. With a sigh he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Hanging above him, his limbs clinging to the ceiling like some horrific blue spider, the Gaunt Summoner stared down with numerous eyes, his mouth flicked upward in a cruel smirk, parted just enough to allow the laughter to leak from its lips. It scurried across the stone roof, with a dizzying speed, before dropping down before Malphikk landing with a whoosh of air.
Malphikk saw the Summoner’s staff moving towards him and he just managed to parry the incoming hit with his sword. The Summoner drew his curved blade from its sheath and with a shriek flung it towards Malphikk. Again he parried the blow, this time with a swing of his staff, but as the staff connected with the blade, it exploded in a searing blaze of red fire. Malphikk’s hand burned so hot it went instantly numb, but not before it sent a bolt of pain digging into his temple. His staff fell from his hand and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air. He snarled in pain and his crippled limb fell limp at his side. The Summoner smiled, and as Malphikk stumbled backwards lifting his smouldering hand to his chest, it whispered a cruel spell into the air. It’s weird, arcane staff wriggled in its hands, and Malphikk was suddenly lifted into the air, his feet wheeled beneath him, scrambling for purchase but it was no use, soon he was floating in the air before the Summoner helplessly dangling on an invisible thread. Malphikk writhed, desperate to try and escape the Summoner’s invisible grasp, but it was futile. With a flick of his hand Malphikk was sent hurtling into the roof. His back lashed into the stone with a crack and the impact ripped his sword from his hand. Stunned and dazed Malphikk saw what happened next through blurred and darkening vision.
As the Summoner prepared to fling Malphikk’s helpless form again. A huge red blur appeared from seemingly no-where. With a scream Red launched himself at the Summoner, his Wrath Hammer swung before him. This time it connected with his quarry who was so mezmerised with torturing Malphikk it had not seen the Slaughterpriest pick himself up off of the floor. The Summoner shrieked and fell forward, landing ungracefully on its knees. The incantation pinning Malphikk to ceiling was broken and he tumbled back to the chamber floor, landing with a crash that wracked his body with pain. His own cry of pain however was echoed by a torrid scream of agony.
At first Malphikk assumed it must be that of Red, who had foolishly tried to tackle the Summoner alone. With great effort Malphikk lifted his head from his battered body and saw the form of the Gaunt Summoner sprawled on the floor, and with confusion realised that it was the fell sorcerer who was screaming. Red was standing over the Summoners body, whose limbs were squirreling wildly on the floor, scratching at the stone in a desperate attempt to escape as the Slaughterpriest planted a heavy boot square between the Summoners shoulders. Red slowly and with great pleasure, looped the chain of his Wrath Hammer over both his hands, and pulled the crude chain taut in his grip. He fed the chain under the Summoners chin, which was still agape and permeating its deafening cry, and with a heave of muscle, Red wrenched the chain across the demons throat. The wailing shriek of the Summoner become a gargled choke, that spluttered painfully from its enclosed throat, its many eyes bulged suddenly, and a look of desperate panic glazed over each one of them. Its head was wrenched backwards in Red’s grip and now the creatures limbs scurried before it with desperate and futile speed. Red pulled on the chain with all of his might, his chest heaved, pulling the skin painfully tight over the bulk of his straining muscles. The tendons in his neck stood out like sharp wires, and his flesh began to glow red and hot, as the veins that wormed their way to the surface, bulging with hot blood under the strain, began to burst and bruise beneath the flesh.
The Demons head was pulled back and back and back, the blue flesh of its neck consuming more and more of the chain as it cut into the ethereal skin there. The gargled chokes disappeared as the Summoners mouth was closed by a gateway of sharp teeth that now knitted together and were gritted in an unholy agony. The numerous eyes began to roll upwards in their sockets as glittering purple gore seeped from the Summoner’s throat where the chain had begun to bite and tear at the flesh. Red gave a fierce and furious roar as he wrenched his hands upwards in one last mighty effort, the chain now drawing blood on his own palms, where the cruel metal now began to bite. But it was enough. There was a gory spurt of blood from the Demons throat and just as the demons head was severed from its shoulders with a horrid rip, the Summoner’s body suddenly exploded in a shower of blue glass. Red gave a cry of relief as his arms fell to his sides, the Wrath Hammer hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Only the sound of Red’s exhausted pants filled the chamber now and Malphikk watched as the Slaughterpriest lowered his head to the shattered glass that littered the floor beneath him. He stooped suddenly and sifting through the glass retrieved a piece of metal from the floor. He examined it and Malphikk could see an arcane symbol on the shard that Red was holding. It was the symbol of Hysh and immediately Malphikk knew they had found the first piece of the amulet. Red suddenly fixed his gaze on Malphikk, who still lay weakly on the floor. He strode to him in two great strides until he stood over him, the shard of the amulet still in his hand. Malphikk raised a hand to his comrade.
“Give me that,” He said, but Red merely watched him. Malphikk was about to repeat his order when Red silently slipped the amulet into a pouch on his heavy metal belt.
“You aren’t strong enough,” Red spoke, in a low rumble of words. Malphikk felt a snarl touch his lips.
“Give me it!” He hissed. But Red was defiant.
“That was but an illusion,” Red continued, “That was but a fraction of the Summoner’s true power, nothing but a fragment of his true self.” The Slaughterpriest lowered himself down, hunching on his knees to draw himself level with Malphikk who still could not find the strength to pick himself up off the floor. “You could not defeat him even when he is nothing but smoke and mirrors Malphikk.” He hissed, “How do you expect to stand before him in his true form?” Malphikk opened his mouth to speak but was silenced when Red muttered angrily. “We brought you here to defeat him. YOU. Not us. I shouldn’t be doing your work Traitor. We may be your guardians but we are NOT your servants. We won’t complete the task that you were sent here to do. You would do well to remember that the next time the Summoner uses you as his play thing.” With that Red stood and turned his back in disgust leaving Malphikk to savour the bitter flavour of his warning.
Post Game:
Result: Victory through attrition, wiser tactics would be needed if we were going to progress.
Analysis: The Trinity and The Traitor have some very heavy hitting warriors. Pox can deal out a lot of damage IF he can actually land a hit, luckily with his good save and ability to always recuperate on a 1+ he will be able to hold his own at the front of the pack. Keeping Red alive will be key to success, so long as he can roll high enough to use his wrath hammer and his blood bind to score plenty of wounds in order to heal. Malphikk will serve the group well with his missile attacks so long as he can score plenty of hits and utilize his Power of Chaos especially by rolling a 6 when he scores D6 wounds! Butch is able to score plenty of wounds, and will be best used as a 'mopping up' kind of warrior, either wounding multiple enemies for others finish off, or killing off a room of wounded enemies especially with his Deathblow ability. Either way The Trinity and The Traitor look like they will be relying on the luck and favour of the Dice Gods for the most part! And already they have shown themselves to dislike these unlucky followers of chaos...
Outcome:
Malphikk
Treasure: None
Skills: None
Red
Treasure: None
Skills: Unstoppable
Amulet Pieces: Hysh
Pox riddle
Treasure: None
Skills: Battlewrath
Butch
Treasure: None
Skills: One Step Ahead
Current Score:
Company of Sigmar:
Rounds played: 1
Amulet pieces: 1
The Trinity and the Traitor:
Rounds played: 1
Amulet pieces: 1
Please comment below with your Silver Tower experiences, let us know how many rounds you gathered all 8 amulet pieces in and whether or not you defeated the Gaunt Summoner! Which characters are best to use in teams of four? Would you use a themed team or a hyped up team? We would love to hear from you! Happy Wargaming!
