The Scrutator Semper Chronicles 15

Chapter Two: The Brown Land

Part Five: The Burnished Throne

It is hard to know in advance the exact point when a man’s patience will reach its limit. For some it is when the last on a heap of disappointments is dropped onto them, and they finally hit a turning point from which there is no return. It is rarely a dignified sight; the result is never something the man would do in his right mind. A wise man once told me that patience is all that separates men from the animals. That and folding clothes.

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles 14

Chapter Two: The Brown Land

Part Four: Those Hooded Hordes Swarming

The Menites were beaten, but not defeated! Their first foray into the Darkfen was treacherously deflected by the trollkin led by Calandra Truthsayer. Now forewarned of the trollkin presence, High Executioner Servath Reznik leads a force of Cleansers and warjacks who intend to blow an important village to smithereens. However, when they arrive, they find the village deserted. An unwary warjack springs a trap, and suddenly the stone huts are swarming with pygmies armed with rifles, and the Menites realise they are surrounded.

The second game of The Brown Land campaign saw Reznik facing off against the Hunters Grim and their warband of ambushing, bombarding, bushwhacking banditos. Under the Halfaug campaign rules, the Thumper Crews lose their greatest weakness…their Light Artillery attribute. Now armed with two ranged slamming moveable weapons platforms, Stu was pretty well placed to bombard the crap out of me. Will the High Executioner triumph or run off with his enormous sword between his legs? Read on and find out!

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles 13

Chapter Two: The Brown Land

Part Three: Nothing With Nothing

“They knew we were coming.”

Grand Scrutator Alphonse Severius’ voice was tight with fury as he stood with his fists pressing down on Scrutator Semper’s enormous desk. He had just stormed in fresh from battle, his robes torn and bloodied. Both men still wore their masks, so Severius’ expression was one of haughty burnished indifference. But his eyes threw sparks. Semper stayed sitting behind the desk, his own eyes unreadable.

“It was a pagan site, they could have been investigating it to see what hellish energies they could consume.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence, Victus. When everything gets covered in shit, I start looking for the arsehole that did it. Those mercenaries were paid extra to be discrete, so that leaves-”

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles 12

Chapter Two: The Brown Land
Part Two: At The Violet Hour

It was time for the first game of the Brown Land campaign, and Stu and I had chosen a 50 point list from our monstrous 160 point reserve to fight over the contested territory of the Darkfen. The idea for this game is that Grand Scrutator Severius’ first foray into the swamp accompanied by a force composed mostly of mercenary elements is intercepted by a warband from the United Kriels, who have arrived to defend the natives. We used the Halfaug region of the Arctic Anomaly, which has a dangerous pitfall. As a Purist player, Stu could use the edges of the structure to gain cover, but could not advance into it for fear of death. As an Opportunist player, I could freely enter and move across the structure to launch surprise attacks. Any model left within the Descent would die a swampy death. We decided this was an ancient shrine to the Devourer Wurm, where fell magics were still strong.

EDIT: Photos are now up!

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles 11

Chapter Two: The Brown Land

Part One: Where The Dead Men Lost Their Bones

In which Scrutator Semper assembles his pawns for a grand scheme

Victus Semper, Scrutator Overseeing the Governance, Distribution, Justification, Flagellation and Sewage of Merwynn, cracked his knuckles and rose from the chair behind the desk where he spent most of his days. He strode – he always strode, he was not a man for hesitant steps – to the doors of his office and turned the key in the lock. Thus satisfied with the inviolability of his sanctum he returned to the desk and doffed the burnished mask which offered the world the haughty visage of a Sul-Menite Scrutator. The face beneath was if anything even haughtier, his thin-lipped mouth was ever downturned, his eyes could strike sparks, his nose was aquiline and pronounced.

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles – Chapter 2 Introduction

Welcome to Chapter Two of the Scrutator Semper Chronicles, an ongoing account of campaigns I have played against various opponents using the ANNIHILATION campaign system for Warmachine and Hordes devised by Owen Conlan. This time around I will be playing against Overload Online’s very own Stuart and his Trollbloods. The story of the campaign is that Scrutator Semper, lord and master of the city of Merwynn in war-torn Llael, plans to raze the wild lands to the north of Merwynn. In their place he will construct the Great Works, a sewage works/temple complex which will venerate Menoth and provide clean drinking water to the populace of Merwynn. His plans will incidentally destroy the homeland of many thousand of non-humans, which is not such a concern for him. Nevertheless the warlocks of the United Kriels have heard the call of distress and rally to fight the Menites. They will war over THE BROWN LAND in this chapter.

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles IX

Chapter One: The Relics of Saint Malathric

Part Nine: Endgame Showdown Faceoff

“”My tabard is red
Yours is blue
I’m a godsworn knight
And so are you.”

High Exemplar Gavram Kreoss crumpled up the latest attempt and threw it onto the debris in the corner of his tent. Words were so meaningless in the face of such feeling. Even now, when the battle would soon be joined, he was unable to think, unable to speak. His dreams were haunted by her face, even the look of scorn she had poured on him as he fell before her spear.

He had been captured by her after their skirmish, in more ways than one. Yes, there had been literal manacles on his hands and feet, but her coppery hair and haughty visage had chained his heart. Not since childhood had he felt such emotion. The Exemplinarium – that famed academy which drills all sympathy and humanity out of initiates to the strong arm order of the Protectorate – had had no room for weakness. Continue reading

The Scrutator Semper Chronicles VII

Chapter One: The Relics of Saint Malathric

Part Seven: Following the Trail

“‘Stop! Here; this is the place.’

Grand Scrutator Alphonse Severius pointed a gloved finger at a nearby copse of trees. His troops watched while the workmen they had brought with them hefted shovels, picks and other tools and went to regard the situation. After a short while, their foreman returned. The morning sun glinted off his bald head as he rubbed his jaw.

‘My lord, how far down would you say these items are buried? We may need most of the day if we have to uproot a tree or two.’

Severius waved his hands to dismiss the man. ‘Then begin now! It will take as long as it takes, no service is too great or small in the service of the Lawgiver. This is the spot, mark my words!’

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles V

Chapter One: The Relics of Saint Malathric

Part Five: It’s Strong, And It’s Sudden, And It’s Cruel Sometimes…

The field guns thundered, and the Menite camp was sundered by concussive blasts. The gun crews paused as their officer sighted down a telescope. There were still pavilions left standing, even as others were consumed in flames. He raised a hand, and the gun crews went about their work, priming the huge cannons and loading them, soon ready to fire again. He dropped his hand, and the volley roared forth. To the west of the artillery in the foothills that surrounded Tighrael there was a rustle of undergrowth and the sound of boots moving quickly. This strikeforce of Exemplars, led by High Exemplar Gavram Kreoss, had left their camp under cover of darkness, leaving most of the tents still standing but empty as a prime target for the enemy guns.

The Exemplars sally forth!

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The Scrutator Semper Chronicles III

Chapter One: The Relics of Saint Malathric

Part Three: The Standoff at Tighrael

“The weak winter sun reached its zenith as the Errant phalanx moved into position behind the abandoned shell of the clocktower. They were the forerunners for the small exploratory force, sent to see how far the Cygnarans had taken control of the town, known as Tighrael in ages before. Now it was nothing, just a collection of ramshackle buildings that even the rats had abandoned. Grass grew waist-high in the streets, heavy with frost, and the Errants took full advantage. Their white armour and chainmail belied their ability to move in silence and blend in to their surroundings. They hunkered down against a collapsed wall and waited.

After a few minutes’ wait the forward scout of these forerunners returned to his brothers-in-arms. He emerged from a clump of grass running and bent almost double, keeping his head below any windows that might give him away. He stopped beside the phalanx leader, and whispered urgently into her ear. She risked a glance over a nearby window sill, off to the southwest. Sure enough, a faraway flash of blue confirmed the report, and soon the telltale clank-clank-hiss of a warjack carried on the afternoon air. The Cygnarans were on their way.

She swept her hand back towards the north, the way they had come, and the phalanx was on the move once more. Keeping the clocktower between them and any keen-eyed Cygnarans, they hit the tall grasses on a near rise and disappeared from sight.”

The Menites surge into Tighrael to find the sacred relics.

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