Blood Tide at Hive Sorrow

Hive Sorrow is a name I gave a 6x4 of cork and baking soda because I refuse to keep calling it “the brown table.” Mike brought Guard. I brought the red tide. We both had kids’ bedtimes in the back of our heads, so the clocks were real.

I deployed Angron behind a ruin spine and shoved both Rhinos up the center with Berzerkers packed like sardines. Jakhals screened the left. The Forgefiend sat on a hill I promised myself I would finish painting “this weekend.” It is still primer and a slapchop of Khorne Red. From three feet it reads. That is the whole hobby philosophy of this site.

Turn one was artillery weather. The Dorn clipped a Rhino, the Forgefiend ate two lascannon wounds and lived on a feel-no-pain that made Mike swear. I Blessing-rolled into extra AP and sent the Exalted Eightbound through a gap that should not have existed. They tagged the Kasrkin and deleted the unit. Blood Tithe ticked. The table started to smell like it always does when World Eaters are working: like you are about to do something unwise.

Turn two I charged Angron at the Tank Commander because I am not a patient man. He made it. The Russ died in one activation. Khârn’s Berzerkers spilled from the second Rhino into Shock Troops and overran an objective. Mike’s return fire deleted the Helbrute and put Angron on three wounds. Fair. The Blood God does not do tidy.

The game ended 78–61 on primary and a pile of secondary that I only remembered because I wrote them on painter’s tape. Victory, but the kind you feel in your knees. After pack-up I still had forty minutes to glue magnets into a Land Raider conversion before the house went quiet. Box to tabletop. That is the job.