Sharpe’s Duty - A 40k Narative Skirmish

Lieutenant Richard Sharpe 

Lieutenant Richard Sharpe of the 95th Praetorian Rifles, Imperial Guard, stood at attention in Major-General (Margrave) Chretzo Sigenandus’ command tent. The young lieutenant faced the old stern general seated at his desk, while Colonel Ackland stood casually off to the side interjecting from time to time with remarks that were more whimsical than of any strategical importance. Sharpe looked taken back on receiving his mission. “He specially requested me?” uttered Sharpe with genuine surprise. Ackland chuckled mostly to himself while twisting the end of his moustache “Yes my dear boy, Major Sutherland - you know, tall grumpy chap, big scar down the right cheek. He requested you lead the escort.”
“Aye sir, I know em” replied Sharpe, “It was me that gave em the scar!”
“Arrr yes” continued Ackland looking off thoughtfully, “And a dammed ungentlemanly blow too I must say. Well Sharpy, all I can say is if I were cut off 30 miles behind the line surrounded by angry Green Skins I’d want the dirtiest fighter in this man’s army to come rescue me too, ha ha!”

Major-General Sigenandus

The General shifted in his chair and grumbled, giving off the feeling that he wished he was somewhere else. “Hmmm errr, well Sharpe, you have your orders, if there are no questions you are dismissed.”
“Aye sir” the young Lieutenant saluted and about faced to leave when the general added “Oh and Sharpe remember I need the intelligence that Major Sutherland has so do not go starting any foolhardy duels on the trip back. Sutherland’s from the ‘old school’ and cannot be expected to mind his manners with a commoner raised from the ranks, so make sure you mind yours.” Sharpe stopped but did not turn to face the old general. “Don’t worry Sir,” he replied gruffly, “I’ll do my duty.” 

Lieutenant Sharpe exited the tent with such disquietude that he cannoned straight into a ‘tin belly’ cavalry officer who was about to enter. The large Brimlock heavy dragoon was an immovable object and Sharpe staggered clumsily to the side. “Wow, steady there… arr, Sharpe isn’t it?” The Brimlock officer queried. “Who’s asking” Sharpe replied finding his feet. The officer persisted, “I wonder if I might I give you some advice - lieutenant to lieutenant?” Before Sharpe could reply the officer continued shrewdly “Soap. By the Emperor’s holly name you stink horribly man - it is quite ungentlemanly.” Sharpe gave a half grin “Nar, don’t use it. The Green Skins can smell a rosy officer a mile off, me however; I have ta tap em on the shoulder before they know I’m coming. I’ll sleep in the dirt and stay alive.” The Brimlock officer looked appalled and then laughed shaking his cuirassier breastplate “I’d rather be dead, ho ho!” With that, the Brimlock officer past Sharpe and entered he command tent. “Be careful what you wish for tin man” Sharpe muttered to himself as he went to find his men.  Sharpe knew he had many failings as an officer and a gentleman, but he was good at leading his men and killing Orks and that was all his duty ever required.

Militarum Equester - A play through of the new supplement!

For those that have not been following this, I have been working on miniatures and rules for a Rough Rider Army for some time now -The Macharian Thunder Guard! Today was the proud day when I finally got them onto the table and trialled my unofficial supplement codex rules with fellow gamer and blogger Liam (aka Frothing Muppet). Here is a few sneak preview shots of my home brewed codex.

The Defence of Complex 23

 

The Marine Commander swung his oversized Relic Blade up around his head and out in an attempt to decapitate Commissar-General Marwood. The old Commissar clumsily ducked and brought his Power Fist up to block the strike. There was a loud crack of energy discharge and the smell of ozone as the blade ricocheted off of his fist. In a fluid sweeping motion the Commander continued the flight of his blade around and down toward the Commissar. Marwood leaped backwards falling on his wrinkled rump and gasped as the sparking blade split the ground between his legs – narrowly avoiding a battlefield castration. Appearing from the blur of combat around them, Primaris Azzopardi swung his mighty Force Axe at the Commanders flank. In a display of mastery footwork and swordsmanship the Commander swiftly moved, parring the strike and followed with a series of quick slashes. As the Primaris defended with his large axe, Marwood was granted the few seconded that he needed. His hand disappeared into his coat pocket and reappeared grasping a glass vile of Fury. In a single well-practiced motion he thumbed off the cork stopper and drove the opening into the external stim port of his power fist. He instantly felt the strength, he felt the power, he felt the Fury. With agility thought to be long lost in his youth the old Commissar rolled to his feed. As the Commander swung his Relic Blade in a wide strike, Marwood, using his momentum stepped inside the swing. With unexpected speed, Marwood forcefully thrust his crackling power fist into the right side of the Commander’s back fracturing his elegant artificer armour. The Commander curled his torso like a school boy receiving his first kidney punch while his aslant continued the frenzied assault. With speed, Marwood punched high uppercutting the Commander’s helmeted chin, then across and down in a backfist, followed by an almighty forward punch square on his helmet fount. As the Commander’s head rebounded of the fist, Marwood saw parts of shattered eye lens and fragments of crushed vent explode outward from the blow. The commander’s body limply fell backwards collapsing into the dirt.

Revitalising my hobby: Part 1 Rules for a Campaign

The thing about having regular gaming buddies is that they requires you to game with them regularly.  It is very easy to keep putting other things first and continuously put games off. If you keep doing this eventually you find yourself with no gaming partners. Of course you can pop down to your local GW or club and try and get a game in, but A) there is no certainty that you will find someone and B) that someone may or may not be a person that will give you the sort of fun game that you are looking for. So I have decided that even though things are very busy right now, I will specifically put time aside to game and seek out other gamers like me who like fluffy battles and fun games rather then tournament uber-list building and two dimensional battles.

Troths (Homo Sapien Verdantus) – Troopers of the Imperial Garden

The Troth, also known as Homo Sapien Verdantus, are an officially recognized strain of Abhuman within the Imperium, endemic on the world of Verdant (Warhammer 40,000 6th Edition Rulebook pg.405).

As their name suggests, they have pledged an oath of fidelity to the Emperor and fulfil their duty to the Imperium whenever called.  Verdant was originally classified as a Death World, but through the tireless work of the Troths it now serves the Imperium as an Agri-World and Pleasure World (or Garden World). With a world of outstanding natural beauty, many Troths have dedicated their lives to pampering the important Imperial visitors they often receive. These are frequently members of major noble houses, members of the Navis Nobilite, Planetary Governors, important Ecclesiarchy officials like Confessors and Cardinals, Imperial Commanders, Rogue Traders and wealthy Chartist Captains. Other Troths pay the Imperial tithes by tending huge jungle crops or farms of edible fungus. Finally, like many colonised worlds and other abhuman races, the Troths also maintain a tithe of men to fight in the Imperial Guard, (or as humans jokingly refer to it, the Troth Imperial Garden).