Part 1: "Broken, But Breathing" // A Narrative Battle Report

Orcs & Goblins ⚔︎ Empire

The battle had been long and hard-fought, but the warband was ultimately shattered. Ugag and his mob had descended upon a small village in the foothills of the Grey Mountains when another host arrived. However, these humans were not the shiny boyz previously encountered. They were mercenaries from Reikland, likely under the service of a local Baron who received news of their latest pillaging. Not only did the mercenaries have more bodies on the field; they also had black powder. Ugag had broken off on his own, again, to charge directly into a group of fanatical rabble. Gruuma knew the mob wasn't worth their time. The sound option was to ride along the flank and take these new challengers from the rear. A handful of potbellied halflings hid in the woodline. Red-shafted arrows whizzed past their heads as the boars gained momentum. The halflings tried to turn and scamper up the boughs of gnarled oak and elm, but it was too late. Tusk and tooth shredded through the feeble bowline, and the woods rang with the high-pitched, jovial squeals of the boars as they feasted on flesh and bone. From his vantage point Gruuma took a moment to survey the situation. Ugag was out of sight. He knew it would be up to him to salvage whatever victory he could.

Halfling archers moments before impact

In the center of the field, Krekka the mad shaman and his mob of spears advanced toward the center formation of swordsmen. Gruuma could hear their battle cries as a company of quarrelers behind them let loose a volley of bolts. They missed the goblins, and in return Krekka gave the order to release the rabid fanatics hidden amongst the company. With ease the hooded freaks swung iron ball and chain, sweeping a path through the densely packed swordsmen and into the quarrelers. Gruuma saw the panic as the mercenaries sought to close the gaps made in their formation, and sprang to action. He broke from the trees and swept through the backline to aid the shaman.

The sound of black powder rang across the field. From his saddle he could see a group of outriders break the mob of boyz that held the warband's right flank. Boyz fled towards the woods, and the outriders made sport of it. They rode down the slowest lads, and wasted no time shooting them point blank. Ugag was nowhere to be seen, and the rabble that had originally been chasing emerged. In a tidal wave of fervor and hatred, they descended on the goblins. They wielded farm tools and crude weapons as if they were great-swords and battle axes. It didn't take long before the goblins broke and ran off into the woods too.

Ugag had led them over the mountains months ago, carving out the cave warren as a base to raid the region beyond. Now they retreated to it broken, boars lathered and blowing hard, the smell of blood and powder still thick in their nostrils. It was not the victory Gruuma wanted, but a warband that still breathed.

Ugag charging solo (again)

Enemies all around, luckily the goblin fanatics could be deployed

Swordsmen v Night Goblins

Campbell's classic Empire army

+ /+/ +

Summer has been full swing. It's taken me a while to write up this battle report (happened back in April). This 500 pt game took 6 full rounds and Empire packed quite the punch. The objective was simple: destroy your enemy. I made some errors (again) using my warboss solo which led to his early demise. Fanatics did a lot of work, but it wasn't enough. The Empire flagellants were crazy strong too, putting out a ton of hits and being relentless on the battlefield.

A lot more stuff has been painted since this battle report; and I'm hoping to be done soon. My poor playing has helped form a narrative for my warband that I'll expand on in Part 2. Battle March has recently came out and the crowd here is pretty hyped for the format. Looking forward to playing more TOW in the coming months!

- Mike

"Gork (Or Maybe Mork) Smiles" // First Game of the Old World

“Form up, youz squig-shits!” roared Ugag as he yanked the reins of his massive war-boar.

He smelled them before he saw them, and he was glad.

For three moons, his lads had pillaged the countryside, leaving nothing and no one standing. Ugag had grown frustrated. The only “opposition” they’d faced were rabble— peasants in roughspun tunics; men with too much gray in their beards, and boys barely able to lift a pitchfork.

It wasn’t until Gruuma, boss nob of his boar riders, suggested they leave survivors to spread the word.

Why survivors? Ugag had thought. Less carnage. Less fun.

Still, Gruuma had always been a shrewd one. At times, Ugag suspected the nob had goblin in him.

And truth be told, there was little sport left in killing farmers. His lads were getting bored. Soon they’d turn on each other… or worse, start squabbling with the goblins that had joined them.

These were not the same goblins that toiled in the warcamp. These were night goblins, led by Krekka da Red Whispa, a cunning shaman who never showed his face. They gorged on mushrooms that drove them into frenzies, and slicked their blades with ooze said to have withered Thrakka’s limbs to twigs.

Ugag snarled at the thought of ending up like Thrakka— all because the shiny gitz never showed.

So he had begrudgingly agreed with Gruuma.

The air shimmered as they crested the grassy knoll.

To their right, an old watchtower lay in ruin. To their left, a lazy creek wound downhill. In the center stood a small shrine and house dedicated to a god that was neither Gork nor Mork.

It was destined to burn.

That’s when Ugag saw them.

The high sun gleamed off polished armor. Colorful banners snapped in the breeze. The scent of horseflesh and sweat hit the back of Ugag's tongue.

Around him, shrill cries and deep bellows rose from the warband.

“Dak-ka! Dak-ka! Dak-ka!”

They drummed blades against crude shields and stomped their feet. Ugag felt his blood boil as the chant built to a crescendo, his vision reddening...

“WAAAAAAGH!”

He drove his heels into the flanks of his war-boar and charged straight for the Bretonnian line.

He expected Gruuma and the boar boyz to follow.

They didn’t.

Ugag bared his tusks. He would deal with Gruuma later.

He thundered into the field, great axe gripped in both hands. A sortie of shiny gitz rode to meet him, the ground trembling beneath their charge.

From the sortie, a group of knights peeled away in the direction of the watchtower.

Ahead, leading the remaining knights, was one rider.

He was young with a mane of golden hair. Green and white heraldry. A black serpent coiled across his shield.

Ugag roared and leaned into the charge.

The knight lowered his lance.

Its tip was shaped like a serpent’s head, its mouth open, a steel tongue thrust forward.

Ugag was too slow.

The serpent struck true.

The world became a crash of steel, splintering wood, and thunderous hooves as the knights rode him down, not even slowing as they passed.

Pinned beneath his war-boar, barely conscious, Ugag glimpsed the chaos unfolding.

The serpent knight slammed into the line of boyz as they descended from the knoll, failing, or perhaps choosing not, to see the goblins sweeping in on their flank.

From the goblin ranks came madness.

Two whirling shapes—torn linen and iron—hurtled forward like living missiles.

It was the fanatics.

They smashed into the knights' flank.

The crunch of steel. The snap of bone.

They tore through the formation of both men and greenskin without slowing.

Amid the carnage, Krekka danced with his totem-staff raised, voice shrieking. A halo of red energy flared above the mob of greenskins, forming a grimacing sun. The red-light gleamed across their blades.

The boyz surged forward, hacking with renewed fury.

The knights broke.

Seeing the charge had failed, they wheeled in panic and rode straight into the goblins closing on their flank.

From the old watchtower came the sound of hooves and screams.

A handful of knights returned, far fewer than had ridden out.

Behind them came Gruuma and his boar boyz, cackling as they ran the survivors down to the last man.

Ugag’s vision dimmed.

Arrows thudded into the dirt around him. A feeble volley gone wide.

Horn blasts sounded.

Hooves thundered past, fading toward the shrine.

“Dak-ka! Dak-ka!”

The chant swelled once more.

Then… another sound.

The jingle of spurs.

Heavy footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

Gruuma stepped into view, looming over him.

Not hurried. Not searching. Certain.

He crouched and took hold of Ugag’s harness, dragging him just enough from the mud to meet his gaze.

Their eyes locked.

In the nob’s expression… something like triumph. Something colder than victory.

Understanding.

As if this had always been the way of it.

Reflected in those fiery red pupils, Ugag saw a grin. Wide. Brutal.

Gork.

Or maybe Mork.

And then…

Blackness.

+/+/+

At my core, I’ll always choose fantasy over sci-fi, so it was a great pleasure to play my first game of the Old World with Sam (@realmofniembro). We’d been talking about running a (very) slow-grow narrative series. No pressure, no league, just playing games and letting the dice tell the story while we learn a new ruleset... Excuse the lack of paint as I work through these mob of gitz. 

Sam did an excellent job painting the terrain, and Forest helped ref the game as we worked our way through the rules. Definitely check out Sam’s write-up on his blog here, covering the same battle from the perspective of his knights.

There was a lot of interest at the shop to see neither AoS or 40k being played. A couple observers mentioned that they had fantasy armies at home and that they would be up for a game.

Anyway, we'll see what happens between Ugag and Gruuma in the next game.

- Mike

Rebirth & Revival - Updates A Year Later

Hey everyone!

It’s been over a year since I last updated this blog, and a lot has happened. In March of last year, I packed up all my stuff, got into my GTI, and drove from DC to Central Oregon with my girlfriend and dog. After three and a half days, we arrived safely at our new home. There were some beautiful stretches—Utah and Idaho especially—while other parts, like Iowa and Nebraska, were mental torture.

Why Central Oregon? My girlfriend’s stepdad is big into mountain biking and invited us on a trip out here in 2021. Being from the East Coast, I had never once considered visiting Oregon. It might as well have been another flyover state, but we were on the other side of the pandemic and wanted to get out of DC, so we tagged along. Bend is huge for outdoor recreation, with plenty to do year-round. It sounds cliché, but when I arrived, something clicked. Instantly, I knew this was where I wanted to be. Dry heat in the summer, friendly people, access to beautiful forests, a clean river to float on, and over 50 independent breweries—those are just a few of the perks.

Anyway, one major career change later, I had the flexibility to move where I wanted. So I chose Bend, Oregon. Now every day feels like a mini vacation.

My biggest barrier to the hobby has been… being outside. Which isn’t a bad thing. With so much to do, it’s hard to want to stay cooped up indoors. Aside from that, I’ve spent a lot of time working with my girlfriend to get the house put together, and thankfully we’re now in a good place.

Why Exquisite Brutality? 

In the Obelisk’s Shadow was never meant to be permanent. Back in DC, my apartment had a direct view of the Washington Monument, so it fit at the time. Exquisite Brutality is a reference to an old White Dwarf article (WD 192) that left a lasting impression on me as a teenager. TL;DR: the legendary Blanche talks about how the imagery of the Warhammer setting comes together; his thought process, influences, and approach. For two weeks, I waited in an empty house for the movers to arrive, rereading old White Dwarfs and codexes, itching to get my hands back on a paintbrush. The name felt like a fitting nod to something that inspired me all those years ago.

Bend is a small city, but it has a surprisingly lively hobby scene. The local store, Modern Games, has a great atmosphere, and I’ve managed to find a solid group of gamers who share a similar approach to the hobby. I even threw a Bash // Bash event in October to introduce Flames of Orion to the local crowd. 

Beyond Bend, there’s also an amazing contingent of talented and passionate gamers up in Portland. The drive is only about three hours through beautiful, scenic Oregon, which makes the time fly by... easily 10x better than three hours on I-95.

I plan  to post more frequently, and hope you plan on sticking around!

Mike

In October I held the first BASH//BASH to highlight Flames of Orion @ Modern Games, Bend.

Green Lakes

Canyon Creek Meadows

Campsite Cafe Bustelo 

Beyond the Mortavus Rift: A Recap

 

Participants of the Beyond the Mortavus Rift narrative event
gather for a group photo.
 

On February 16th, 2025, players gathered at the Union Gang clubhouse for Beyond the Mortavus Rift, an Inq28 event co-hosted by the District of the Damned Wargaming Club and Union Gang. Originally planned for December, the event was rescheduled to February. If you missed it, you can read more about the setting here.

This post showcases warband shots, in-game photos, and highlights from the finale.

The event featured three rounds and a climactic finale, each played on unique scenario-driven boards. The finale unfolded aboard the Eden Gate terraforming station, a warp-corrupted void station adrift between two dying stars. There, the Archmagos had moved the Astral Conduit to exploit the veil’s thinning between the immaterium and materium, furthering his research into the artifact’s secrets.

If you’d like to run these scenarios yourself, you can find all materials and a PDF of the event handbook here. Below are just some photos, but a better selection please feel free to check out the album.

All participants received a handbook for the event, which summarized aspects of the rounds, 
lore, and tables to roll on.

The Empyreal Talons of House Harkonides, a
corrupted Navigator house by Benet (holyfirethem).

The Doomed Retinue of Aris du Khrat, a Rogue Trader gone rogue 
by Landlines aka Chris.

The Purificators of the Divine Flesh, of Ordo Hereticus
by JerZ aka Chris.

Prosecution Squad of Lexwright Doltan Vey, a retinue of Squats
executing their "legal claim" to areas of the Mortavus subsector by Nate.

The Retinue of Inquisitor Ducat of the Ordo Malleus Novo, by 
Eric (bone.spoon).

The Mutant Host, by Kassie.

The Retinue of Inquisitor Iago van Ghyldr, by
Mike (cosmic.kraken).

The Gilded Saint Flotilla, a Rogue Trader retinue, by
Doug (sleepykamistudios).

The Gabagools, a space scummers warband, by
Gabby.

The Church of the Third Specimen, a religious cult seeking to bring
the growth virus to the Imperium, by Martin (martin.mccoy.art).

Martin's WIP transport for the Church of the Third Specimen.

Archmagos Passen Xingh, Leader of the Omnissiah's Promise expeditionary fleet, 
kitbashed by Adam (doom and apathy)

After witnessing his Inquisitor and retinue slaughtered by the Church of the Third Specimen, hired gun Ratfrid scrambled onto the crumbling Administratum rooftop, hoping to intercept the Captain on his way to the transport vessel. However, a missed shot sealed his fate—he was swiftly devoured by Ingrid the Blessed.

Members of the Gilded Saint and the Persecution Squad clash for control of the enigmatic archeovault, hidden deep within the slums of Hive Vortem.

Eden Gate Terraforming station. Warp-tinged flora has sprouted throughout the station, as well as

fractures in the materium. Players had the ability to interact with these fractures, rolling 1d6

to determine which one they'd emerge from. On a 1 they'd be vaporized within the warp.

Dharmat Harkonides emerges from a warp tear unscathed, and embolden to press on in search of the Astral Conduit.

Deep within the Eden Gate, the Archmagos presides over the Astral Conduit, relentless in the pursuit of its deepest mysteries.

After attempting to Mind Spike the Astral Conduit, Dharmat Harkonides left his mind exposed to the relic’s corruptive power, unwittingly opening the gateway for Daemon Prince Gorvulax the Gorged Tyrant to manifest through his very soul. 

The warp energies within the Eden Gate accelerated the growth virus of the Church of the Third Specimen, further empowering the Captain. Martin's Captain fought off all assailants and attempted to seize the Astral Conduit. As the Conduit's volatility increased, the warp clouds closed in on the central chamber, consuming the Conduit, the Captain, and Gorvulax the Gorged before triggering the void station’s catastrophic implosion.

It was a privilege to run this event, and I hope everyone who took part had a blast. I’ll miss rolling dice with these freaks, but I’m glad I got to make this happen for them. Huge thanks to everyone who showed up and to those who helped in the months leading up to it—couldn’t have done it without you.

Be sure to check out the other pictures in the album.

If you have any questions, drop them in the comments or feel free to reach out to me on Instagram.

CK // Mike