c. Games Workshop
The column inched its way down Furion Road with a ponderous, methodical slowness, looking from a distance like some vast dun-red caterpillar crawling across the wasteland. Rows of red-robed Skitarii marched in unison through the ruins of old outpost towns, their steel-soled feet clanging dully against the centuries-old pavement, marching in perfect, synchronous lockstep. Long-limbed Ironstriders loped around the edges of the column, looking for all the world like the vigilant desert lizards scanning for prey, their gunners swivelling twin-barrelled autocannons against the horizon as their mind-impulse units took in thermal information. At the rear, larger quadrupedal walkers stomped along with a trundling, beetle-like gait, their arrays of weaponry aimed skyward. Hulking robots, their forms squat and bulbous, stomped along on a pre-programmed path, the blank visors covering their dome-like heads flickering every once in a while with an electromagnetic glimmer of mechanical awareness.
c. Bethesda Softworks
Klaxons were blaring angrily all throughout Thule Omega district, accompanied by the customary, servitor-laden warnings for all civilians to stay in their homes. The entire district was going into lockdown, and patrols in the other districts were arming as well. At this rate, the whole bloody hive would be under martial law before long.
Hod’s Anvil: an ugly name for an equally ugly planet, Khyrus Vythorex thought to himself as he looked at the image on the ghostlight sphere at the front of his ship’s bridge. The planet on the viewer was little more than a dull brown ball practically squatting in space, its surface punctured with the grey and gunmetal flecks of forge-complexes, cities and fortress, and its oceans were a similarly faded grey in colour. Only humans could live in a place so squalid and filthy, and it did not surprise Khyrus to learn that Hod’s Anvil was home to a population numbering in the billions. There would be no shortage of captives to drag back to the Kabal, he thought wryly.
This story takes place on Hod’s Anvil, a bastion world responsible for supplying the surrounding sub sector in the absence of support from the main Imperium, and beset on all sides, by the Tau Empire, Hive Fleet Gorgon and Kraken, the corrupting influence of the Hadex Anomaly, and all other manner of foul Xenos scum…
So, recently I have started getting into Kill Team as an alternative to mainstream 40k. This is due to a number of reasons, the primary one being time: my schedule on weekdays is too tight to get a proper 40k game in, and I would much rather not carry my army case with me to and from the office on the TTC. Kill Team, on the other hand, is on so small a scale that I can easily carry a force (or two) with me in my backpack. My leanings towards Kill Team have been further reinforced by the fact that (1) my local game stores have been really getting into it lately, and (2) my girlfriend has expressed an interest in starting a Necron Kill Team.
c. Games Workshop Ltd.
Veteran Sergeant Amadeo leaned down and grabbed Tyrio by the wrist, hauling the Neophyte over the edge of the ruined hab’s second storey. Tyrio was always lagging behind his brothers, Amadeo noted, always falling to the rear in any operation or training session. For some reason, the young Astartes simply lacked the confidence his brothers found so natural, and this was an almost fatal flaw in a Space Marine. Tyrio must have been conscious of his Sergeant’s silent judgement, as Amadeo saw second-long flicker of humiliation cross the young man’s face before he hung his head and hurried over to the edge of the ruined windowsill, taking up an overwatch position on the grey ruins below. The roof to this place had long ago been torn open by Drukhari bombings, and filthy rainwater pattered down on them from the polluted sky above, spattering against Amadeo’s bare head unpleasantly.
Hundreds of miles below the Valkyrie, the surface of planetoid Ixis 37B was a jagged grey tangle of crags, peaks, and canyons, punctuated here and there by the bright orange of a lava flow. It was a low atmosphere rock where little sunlight pierced the perpetual gloom, and little or nothing lived. It wasn’t until you got closer to the surface that you saw stranger sights– rock formations hovering above the ground like strange, floating sculptures, perfectly hemispherical pits stretching for miles across, and strange electromagnetic signals seemingly originating from the planet itself– all of which had attracted the attention of the Adeptus Mechanicus.