Race Through The Silver Tower, The Trinity And The Traitor Round 2
Team Name: The Trinity and The Traitor
Round: Two
Mission: Two - Ghyran
Team: Butch the Darkoath Chieftain Red the Slaughterpriest Pox Riddle the Lord of Plagues Malphikk the Chaos Sorcerer Lord
The Fragment of Ghyran
Part 1:
The First Doubts of the Trinity.
Malphikk watched the small amulet piece rise and fall on Red’s chest. The intricate fragment was lost in amongst the huge backdrop of Red’s behemoth muscle so much so it was almost invisible. The Slaughterpriest had tied the fragment around his neck with a frayed cord and the fragment danced on his flesh as he walked. The Sorcerer Lord couldn’t help but feel the bitter taste of envy on his lips as he watched that fragment tease and taunt him, dancing in the possession of another. It should be his, he thought as he eyed it greedily, this was his task, his trial set by the Gods themselves. If anyone should be holding the amulet pieces, it was him. He felt his fists clench tightly shut, and a snarl flick upward on his lip as he continued his longing stare. But, when Red glanced in his direction, Malphikk snapped his eyes back forward instantly. He did not want the Slaughterpriest to see his covetous envy.
“How much further?” The Slaughtpriest demanded, and Malphikk felt that jealousy churn in his stomach once more, “We’ve been walking for so long the blood on my blade is almost dry,”
“Not far now,” Malphikk responded plainly. The truth was he didn’t know how much further they would have to go until the next trial revealed itself. This fact was reiterated when Butch shouted from the back of the group:
“We’ve been here before,” Malphikk winced at hearing the words, it was true, they had been here before, and not just once. He was hoping the group would not notice, memories and senses are hard to keep track of in the Silver Tower.
“The Sorcerer is lost,” Red spat.
“Not lost,” Malphikk hissed, “Not lost. Just waiting,”
“Waiting?” Butch asked.
“You don’t find places in this labyrinth,” Malphikk began to explain already knowing that the conversation may well be completely forgotten once they passed into the next chamber, “You don’t find them, they find you. We’re not walking, we’re waiting, and we’re not waiting to find something, we’re waiting to be found.”
Pox gave a bemused grunt. A rare and understated outburst that vocalized the entire group’s scepticism. From the corner of his eye Malphikk saw Red and Butch exchange a doubtful glare and he felt more distain rising in his chest. He eyed the fragment of Hysh once more. He was supposed to be the leader here, they were his servants, and already he could feel a dread pall of mutiny hanging in the air. The Chaos Sorcerer quietly thought to himself that he would have to do something to help keep this unruly mob in check. There was a hierarchy here that needed to be reinstated.
And soon.
Battle Report:
Watching the Company of Sigmar had given The Trinity and The Traitor some fire in their bellies! All the team members were capable of dealing decent amounts of damage with ranged support coming from the Sorcerer and hopefully some healing coming from Red the Slaughterpriest. The downside of this team was that most of them only had a 5+ save so things were bound to get hairy at some points. This Chaos team was raring to go and there was no way we were going to get in their way! In a solid start Red went first and rolled 3 sixes and a five for his hero roll, he burst into a room containing some Acolytes and a Pink Horror, he got an early kill and did some good damage. Next up was Butch the Darkoath Chieftain, he clattered into the room and wounded anything that moved, he left himself dangerously exposed but caused a massive total of 9 wounds! Pox the Lord of Plagues was up next and took out the Pink Horror, he was quickly followed up by the Sorcerer who bagged himself a couple of kills and completed probably the bloodiest first turn we had ever seen! There was a single Acolyte left who managed to get some revenge by causing two wounds on Butch and thus summoning another Pink Horror who nearly finishes off the Chieftain. We eventually cut through these enemies and Malphikk came out on top as he was only one kill away from earning his first skill, and this was only the first room!
In the next room we stumbled on 8 Grot Scuttlings, after another bloodbath the tired gang of Chaos were ambushed by more Scuttlings and all of us suffered a stun marker, it turned out to be only a lone Scuttling who was promptly squashed by Red! Further on into the tower and the team come across a wizards statue which offered a challenge, Butch was the first to accept, he did quite well and caught up with the others on the Fate board. A couple of quick fights later and we came upon a fleshy creature which stole a piece of treasure from each member of the team, this cost us some very useful items but hopefully we could find more soon. But soon was not to be. After quickly clearing out a chamber which modified our Hero Dice we came upon the final room, we knew from experience that it was a lot easier to win if you had more treasure and skills under your belt but the Trinity and the Traitor aren't afraid of much!
We agreed to try and draw the enemy out of the fungus room to stop them being healed by the mushrooms. The Tzaangors were doing a lot of damage but it was the Ogroid Thaumaturge who took down the Red the Slaughterpriest and Malphikk in the same turn. Pox Riddle had a Phoenix Heart which he used to bring back Red because it was deemed that his priestly abilities would be more useful. Things did not improve for the Chaos because in the next turn Butch was killed by a gang of Tzaangors. We thought we had made a mistake in avoiding the Ogroid, after all it was his shooting attacks that were causing the most problems. With this in mind Pox the Lord of Plagues ran up close to the Thaumaturge but was quickly punched to death! This left Red on his lonesome and here followed an extraordinary turn of events and cruel mind tricks from the Dice Gods! After a few combats Red the Slaughterpriest was in a position where he needed to cause a single wound (needing only a 2+) to get a kill which would let him heal D3 wounds and get a skill card which was going to be a healing power. He rolled a one! But he clung on, somehow passing a host of 5+ saves. Next up he had 2 dice in which he had to avoid rolling a four to get some Destiny Dice back. He rolled double 4! This bad luck was followed by insane good luck, as all 5 Destiny Dice were taken from him which allowed him to recover D3 wounds, hurray! But once again he rolled a one! Still clinging on by his gory finger nails, Red got some more good luck and didn't even have to make a single save as all of his enemies attacks missed! This put Red back in the position he started in, only needing a 2+ and once again he rolled a one! But this time he did die and the mission ended in failure, meaning at some point in the future this mission would need to be played again, we would lose all our Treasure and all but one of our Skill cards per person.
Result: Defeat
Analysis: The biggest blunder in this game was of course not heading into the final chamber and taking the Tzaangors and Ogroid on. Drawing the enemies out away from the healing powers of the fungus made them easier to kill, but the sheer volume of enemies caused a roadblock that meant that the Ogroid was attacking with his ranged attack every turn that was dealing out way too much damage. By the time our error was realised it was too late, there were too many enemies to get to the Ogroid to force him to use his less effect (but still meaty) close combat attacks. By the time the Tzaangors were dead, everyone was heavily wounded and Ogroid finished them off easy. The group also had some very good and powerful treasure that was not utilized effectively which also led to the Trinity and the Traitor suffering their first defeat! They can only hope the Company of Sigmar begin to come under some pressure, or they risk falling further behind...
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: 2 Amulet pieces: 2
The Trinity and The Traitor: Rounds played: 2 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 bulked up team? We would love to hear from you! Happy Wargaming!
The Fragment of Ghyran.
Part 2.
The First Death of the Traitor.
“Stand!” Malphikk roared, even as more Tzaangors began to pour from the portal before him.
Butch gave an ear splitting roar as he brought his broadsword down across the chest of another avian beast; sending its bloodied carcass cartwheeling to the floor.
“We can’t stay here!” Butch screamed over the cacophony of shrieking beasts and clacking beaks. “We have to move!”
“Stand!” Malphikk bellowed as he loosed another fiery bolt from his staff. It connected with a bird-like face on the other side of the chamber, searing its features to a bloodied, blackened crater. Butch eyed him furiously, his lips peeling back revealing his glimmering white teeth.
“Malphikk!” He howled just as a Tzaangor lunged at him, two twisted daggers perched in its talons. Butch parried the first blow with a hefty swing from his sword but the second was buried into his shoulder and he growled furiously. A great gout of red erupted from the wound, and the Darkoath Chieftain just managed to wrench his axe from his belt and bury it into his attacker’s neck, before the beast could bury the knife to the hilt. The Tzaangor slipped to the ground taking the knife with it allowing a glistening flow of crimson to pour over Butch’s torso. “We have to move!” He reiterated through gritted teeth.
“I say we stand and so we shall stand!” Malphikk bellowed defiantly, sending another great gout of arcane fire rolling cross the chamber. It flew over the feathered heads of their adversaries who squalled as it passed, ducking and diving for cover. Red drove his Hackblade into the gut of another beast and in one swift movement brought his heavy boot down hard on the head of another cowering Tzanngor, the deafening crack of its beak shattering on the stone floor was stomach churning. He turned and strode towards Malphikk even amongst the heat of battle, grabbing the Sorcerers robes in his meaty fist and drawing him close to his helm.
“What are you doing?” He demanded, his breath was hot on Malphikk’s cheeks as his words slithered from the darkness of his enclosed helm. “We cannot hold out here much longer.”
“You will hold,” Malphikk hissed wrapping his hand around Red’s that clutched him tightly, “You will hold and you will remember your place.” The Sorcerer wrenched himself free of Red’s grip. “You will do well to remember who was put in charge here servant,” He pushed Red from him with a forceful hand. “Now stand!” He roared. Red shook his hefty head and growled like a rabid beast. He turned and drawing his Hackblade high he rushed back into the fray slashing left and right sending puffs of blood and feathers spouting into the air. Malphikk watched as the Trinity of warriors before him stood at the fore of the fighting, even as more and more Tzanngors emerged from the portal before them. It was true. They couldn’t hold out here much longer. But Malphikk would not be disobeyed, he would not yield and he would not make himself look weak. He thought this even as he began to see the Trinity become overwhelmed and the dawning reality of his mistake washed over him.
Butch was the first to fall.
Even over the thrall of battle, Malphikk could hear Butch’s weakening breaths. His furious cries lost their lustre and the once furious growls and hisses as he slew his enemies, became rasping and torrid wheezes. His chest was glistening with blood that was still pouring down his frame from the gory tear in his shoulder and with each swing of his sword his legs seemed to buckle beneath the weight of his strikes. He was tottering back and forth like a tree swaying in a gale, when with a vicious squawk a Tzaangor thew himself at the weakening Cheiftain. The force was enough to send him reeling backwards and the two of them crashed to the floor before Malphikk.
Malphikk whipped his sword from its scabbard and wheeled the blade back to strike, but it was already too late. With a hideous squelch the Tzaangor buried its beak deep into Butches throat and ripped a great chunk of flesh from the Cheiftain’s neck. The beast was showered in crimson and Butch lay still. Malphikk roared and swung the blade with all the force he could muster, it buried itself into the beast’s cheek and as it squealed in pain, the bloodied chunk of meat fell from its glistening beak. Malphikk wrenched the blade free and raising his staff high into the air, he brought the sharp, bladed base of the staff down through his opponent’s chest. The beast was skewered and its body contorted involuntarily as the staff bore a path through its heart. The Tzaangor slipped from atop of Butch’s body and the two lay still beside each other on the chamber floor. Malphikk studied Butch only for a moment, a moment was all that was needed. The Chieftain stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and glistening like glass; his throat open in a wide and bloodied grin.
Malphikk felt his heart kick furiously in his chest, he lifted his eyes and saw that still rivers of avian bodies were pouring into the room, Red and Pox now stood at each other’s side. Their once precise and martial strikes were now nothing more than desperate hacks and slashes about them as they were harried from all sides.
There was a great clatter of metal as suddenly Pox’s shield dropped from his arm. Malphikk saw the head of a great axe buried deep into Pox’s shoulder and the Plague Lord’s arm hung limply at his side, running in a sickening mixture of blood and puss. Pox swung his sword arm about him as best he could, fending off the attacker’s, but a long twisted spear shot out from the endless ranks and punched through his plating on his gut. Even as he fell the Plague Lord made no sound, his great black armoured mass simply slipped from sight, disappearing beneath the blue mass of feathers and blades.
Malphikk raised his staff high and with a great roar he poured flame forth. The Tzaangors shrieked as the flames licked and seared their feathers and the mass was pushed back enough to allow Red to retreat back to Malphikk’s side. As the beasts sheltered behind one another Malphikk could just glimpse the lifeless form of Pox sprawled on the floor beneath them; his massive helmeted head detached from his body.
From the portal with a great bellow emerged an adversary Malphikk knew well. Indeed he had led these gargantuan creatures into battle and knew their power all too well. The Ogroid Thaumaturge stood proudly with his coven about him. These creatures came in a multitude of colours, and this beast was a huge mass of red flesh, the symbols that were etched into his skin glowed with a yellow light so bright that it appeared almost golden. It produced a deafening roar and the Tzanngors about him suddenly fell silent. The Ogroid strode to the front of the pack, his subjects parting as he walked. Malphikk stood in silent awe as the huge creature approached. Red however, who had no doubt faced such creatures before gave a furious grunt before swinging his Wrath Hammer in his hand. The hefty metal ball whistled through the air as he charged towards the beast. The Ogroid however did not even pause for thought and didn’t even break stride as it thrust its crude arcane staff towards the Slaughterpriest. A great torrent of boiling liquid emerged from the smoking skull atop his staff, and the jet stream pierced straight though Red’s heaving chest. The smell of searing flesh rose into the air as the liquid burst through Red’s shoulder blades leaving nothing but a burnt and gory hole in its wake. The Wrath Hamer fell still and silent instantly, and the Slaughterpriest’s huge frame imploded on itself, landing in a crumpled heap where he stood.
Malphikk stood alone before the hulking red monster. Even now Tzaangors were still filing into the room, their eyes glistening, their tongues licking at their beaks with anticipation. All those jet black stares were fixed on Malphikk and he could feel the collective hatred brewing in all of those glares.
The Ogroid fixed the Chaos Sorcerer with a cool look however, the huge beast’s monstrous stature and appearance belied the intelligence that glittered in those eyes. Malphikk felt the cold reality of his situation and his failure fall over him like a blanket of snow. The Trinity lay dead all about him and here he stood alone before one Tzeentch’s most powerful servants.
But if he were to fall, he would go down fighting.
Malphikk suddenly let out a furious battle cry and lifted his sword and staff high into the air. He charged headlong towards the beast loosing bolts of fire before him his blade shining still wet with blood.
The Ogriod however did not flinch, nor even acknowledge the defiance. Instead he merely lifted his crude staff towards Malphikk and with his face still fixed in the cool look of calmness and with a hiss of gruff words; he enchanted his weapon with some arcane spell. A billowing black smoke emerged from the hollow eyes of the mammoth skull perched atop his staff. The smoke was as dark as night yet shimmered with flecks of silver and as Malphikk was swallowed by the smoke he saw, only for an instant, entire galaxies in that foul mist. It would have been beautiful and in fact it was; until the smoke washed over him and began to strip the flesh from his bones. He gave a sharp gasp as pain as he felt his lips dry, crack and melt away from his teeth and as the smoke filtered into his lungs he felt his body ignited by a white flash of agony.
Malphikks sword and staff slipped from his grasp as the muscles wasted away revealing the gory sight of bloodied bone. The Traitor slipped to his knees as his robes began to burn away his screams of agony became gargling, crimson chokes as his lungs melted away into soup. He had kept his eyes closed once he had felt the burning, but now as his eyelids vanished his eyeballs began to run like liquid in their sockets.
But those galaxies never left his sight, even as he was blinded, he could still see into the endless void of space. Even as his body was stripped away he could still feel it floating beneath him. Even as he choked, and bled the final blackness of death never came. Instead he felt himself floating in some purgatory, surrounded by endless stars, he found himself perched on the fringes of death but not allowed to disappear. Something was holding him back, something was holding him in the mortal realm.
And Malphikk knew all too well what that something, or rather who that someone was.
As he felt himself drift back down through the eternal blackness like a stone sinking slowly to the bottom of some dark water; he felt his body return to him. He could feel his flesh wrap around his bones, and feel cool air rush back into his lungs. He felt the life return to him, and as his sight returned to his restored eyes he found himself standing in a very familiar chamber.
It appeared Tzeentch was not finished with him yet.
