It was only within the last thirty standard solar years that the planet Tondar had been discovered, seized (violently), and settled by Imperial forces. Two years ago, this world had been overwhelmed by a massive Ork Waaagh!, and only within the last few months had the Greenskins been driven from it by the Space Wolves, led by the ancient Dreadnought Ferin Ironhammer.
Before a proper force of Astra Militarum could be sent to secure the planet, the Wolves had been ordered to another warzone, and in that vacuum, the forces of Chaos had struck, drawn to the Warpstone—crystalline hunks of solidified Warp energy—found on Tondar.
Should the Traitors acquire the Warpstones, their power might be nigh-unlimited. But while the Wolves were gone, the planet was not undefended….
My pal Patrick Eibel turns 55 (!) today, and seeing as how he has achieved this milestone birthday, I thought I’d tell you some more about him and post a public “thank you” for all the things he’s done for me and this site over the years.
In this series, we showcase armies used by your humble Jungle Guides. By detailing how the army was collected, how the background and color schemes were developed, and how the army is used on the battlefield, we hope that this series will provide inspiration for those interested in collecting similar armies.
by Patrick Eibel
When you have been playing and collecting for as long as I have, you may find yourself too many figures, figures you got for army ideas never-built, or just want to create another army to fight against your current armies. This is somewhat how my (now rather large) Chaos force came about.
Huron Blackheart strode from the hastily constructed shanty he was using as a headquarters, and joined the Master of Executions, who was standing in the shadows of the fuel dispensary. The two made a grotesque pair, one disfigured in a long-ago explosion that left his face hideously scarred, the other encased in the skull armor of his station. They surveyed the Red Corsair warband making preparations for battle throughout the bivouac.
“It will be soon,” rasped Huron, “that our old friends the Fighting Tigers will be in the area. No doubt, they intend, like us, to use these abandoned fueling stations to supply their ships.”
The Master of Executions grunted. “The men are not ready. We are too few to wage a full battle as yet.” His voice was flat, dead, the creak of a coffin lid.
“I agree.” If the leader of the Red Corsair warband took any affront to his lieutenant’s lack of deference, he showed no concern.
A dull hum could be heard off in the distance, and Huron turned to watch as a plume of dust approached, kicked up by a rapidly moving vehicle. “That is why I have made other arrangements.” He waved to the others in the warband to let the vehicle approach.
With a loud rumble, a ramshackle bike-like vehicle skidded into the encampment. A large, green Ork disembarked, and, spewing a string of profanity, made his way to the two Red Corsair leaders.