​Welcome friends, I hope this post finds you staying warm.

Winter has finally arrived down here in Texas and with the holidays coming up, this seems like an appropriate time to take a holiday break.

As far as the Persephone story line goes, we will very likely give that a rest and explore something else. I have been chomping at the bit to return to my Templars and Elysians, whilst Gar continues to develop his Tau into a most fearsome Apocalypse level force all the while beginning to dabble with Genestealer Cults. Mo has managed to get his hands on some Demiurge (Squats), so there are some interesting potential dynamics between them and the Tau as allies. Jefe is...well, what "can" one say about the Inquisition for certain other than they are ever present and ever powerful.

So we shall see.

In the mean time, I'll be huddling up with family and close friends, wrestling with that most insidious of opponents, Christmas Calories, and reflecting back on how thankful I am for all that I've been blessed with.

Here's wishing you all a Merry Christmas <cue Burl Ives> and a Happy New Year!

Au revoir!

Honda out

​Pre-Game Show:

So, Gar and I scheduled a couple of story point games, designed to advance the narrative. In general, we wanted to reflect the Tau's resurgence on Persephone and the continued growth of the "Children of the Dragon".

To that effect we wanted to see how many 2000 point games we could get in on Black Friday at one of our favorite places to play, Fat Ogre's.

This was my problem. Most of my army is made out of guys running in bed sheets. Most of Gar's army could be made up of 3+, jet pack bearing, burst cannon toting, guys with no noses. There was never any doubt as to whether or not I have more bodies than he has bullets. I don't.

Accepting that, I needed to be able to interrupt his game plan with the tools I had at my disposal. Pulling out all the Siege of Vraks books, I started formulating an idea of trying to pin the Tau between two bad choices. I wanted the Tau to not be able to just sit back and blow me off the table and at the same time, since a lot of Gar's suits could deep strike or infiltrate, I didn't want him getting up close and personal either. 

​You know how it goes.
 
There's the finished film that editors spend untold hours over to get just right and then there's what happens on the set.
 
People aren't perfect. Neither are Space Marines.
 
So I was able to get my hands on some previously unseen cuts from the unedited version of "The Burning of Prospero". I hope you enjoy.

The room stank of desperation and decay.
 
Located near the river in an abandoned warehouse, the multitude enclosed by the decrepit walls, were down on their knees, bowing towards a figure at the head of the room. A smaller group of figures, standing back in the shadows behind their leader, stood guard in a loose semi-circle around the focus of the gathering's attention.
 
The whispered chanting of vague, unrecognizable syllables could be heard hissing from their foul breathed mouths.
 
The object of the crowd's attention, a lone figure standing with arms upraised, faced the gathering, as if drawing something intangible from their efforts. Eyes rolled back into his sockets, head tilted back, the figure opened his mouth as if to deeply inhale.
 
As the chanting increased in tempo and volume, soft wisps of light began to slowly flow from the mouths of the worshipping crowd and drift towards the figure, circling his mouth like moths to a flame, only to eventually disappear into his mouth. As more of the wisps entered his gullet, a faint flickering light began to emanate from his chest.
 
Just as the chanting began to turn into a ragged chorus of shouts and wails, the doors at the back of the warehouse exploded inward, the remains of the entryway open to the dark night as two figures stood in a corona of smoke.
 
The first figure, bearing a helm that covered most of his face and a staff of writhing metal stared out at the gathered throng and nodded as if to indicate "inside". Then the second figure, standing slightly behind him, armless and wearing a helm with a glowing orb for a face, began shuffling towards the front of large room.
 
Almost immediately, the worshipping throng turned and stood to face the lone advancing figure, faces crazed from the act of worship. Much like a school of fish, acting as if of one mind, the crowd flowed towards the solitary intruder.
 
In an instant, a flash of lightning issued from the helm of the second figure, striking several of the closest members of the cult, causing them to ignite in great bursts of flame accompanied by the horrendous sound of their screams. Yet even this display of might could not sway their passions as the crowd continued to close. It would be their second mistake that night, only superseded by the poor choice of being at the wrong place and at the wrong time.
 
The armless figure continued to advance into the crowd, lightning flashing out, clearing a path to the front of the room. Sensing the futility of continuing their attack, the mob parted before him like water before a prophet of olden times. Even the most battle crazed, faced with the burning remains of multiple members, parted to let the figure through scrambling towards the long walls on either side in an attempt to flee his flaming wrath. As the lightning bearer moved closer to the front, another group emerged.
 
The body guard, smaller in number, but heavily armed, let loose with a multitude of shots as they sought to prevent the armless intruder from its inferred target. All through this next phase of the fight, the cult leader stood still with his arms upraised. Despite a heavy outpouring of projectiles, the armless figure continued its advance untouched. The bullets seemed to turn into sparks, whose flashing light only added to the unnerving image of the shambling figure's implacable advance. In the end, the body guards did not fare any better than the worshipping throng. Flashes of lightning issued from its face and turned the body guard into a ring of burning fire circling their leader.
 
It was at this point that the cult leader appeared to become aware of the threat to his person. He tilted his head forward, eyes looking out, and from his mouth vomited a fiery blast of translucent flame that completely enveloped the armless assassin. For several seconds the flames engulfed the figure as it stood motionless before the onslaught.
 
Satisfied, that the intruder had been dealt with, the cult leader slowly closed his mouth and the stream of flames ceased. It was then in horror that he realized that the assassin remained untouched. This would be the last thought that he would carry with him to his death, for the response to his flaming attack was another flash of lightning which caused his spontaneous ignition.
 
When the cult leader's screams had ended, the assassin turned to face the helmed figure still standing in the entrance of the warehouse. The survivors also turned their attention to the figure, unsure what was to happen next.
 
Looking out at the silent throng, the helmed figure spoke with a dry, ageless voice.
 
"Unity has come. The Dragon has need of you."
 
Confused, the cult members looked between themselves, unsure of what to do next.
 
It was then that the chittering horde of scarabs rained down from the ceiling, each hungrily seeking a host.
 
Totality and Morpheus drifted back into the darkness to a backdrop of wounded screams.

 [In last week's episode, the Imperium deployed significant forces around a mysterious archeotech device of unknown origin...at least by the Imperium. As Inquisitorial assets performed various rituals of analysis, significant elements of the Astartes Chapter, November Warriors and the Grey Knights patrolled the immediate area, enforcing the strict information protocols required by the Ordo Hereticus and Ordo Malleus leadership. Although the initial phases of the operation were successful, the Imperial forces quickly found themselves engaged in an Eldar envelopment. The Eldar appeared out of nowhere and struck forcefully at the flanks of the Imperials in an attempt to quickly dislodge the screening forces and destroy the device which had breached the planet's surface. It was imperative that the activation protocols of the Obsidian Engine, inadvertently triggered by the Imperials, were shut down as quickly as possible before the consequences of an awakened device became manifest. As it was, the device had begun to develop into an new aspect that posed serious dangers to any living force within the immediate area.]
​

​- Bielanna Faerelle, "Fairest light of distant suns", Farseer, Biel-Tan Craftworld, "Lords of Mars", McNeill

Prelude - 

​by Jeraldo Revara (posthumous)

​Yes, my pretties, it is bug time again.
 
For this episode I would like you to consider what is very likely the most ferocious predator in the insect kingdom, the giant centipede.

​When it comes to 40K, there's different kinds of smarts, right?
 
For instance, there are people who figure out how to work list, almost with Machiavellian skill, then there are those who can look at a handful of spare bits from ten different kits and create a masterpiece.
 
And then there are people who aren't like that at all <raises hand>. I would consider myself rather pragmatic, a kind of "out of the box" thinker in day-to-day endeavors, but I'd like to think that I have a healthy dose of common sense. When I see a set of circumstances, I think more times than not, I will quickly evaluate the situation and then come to the conclusion that "that ain't right" (Texas technical phrase).
 
So what kind of person are you? Do you have the ability to evaluate a set of 40K circumstances and make the right decision?
 
Let's proceed shall we?