In the finale of our narrative campaign, the gangs are keyed into a bounty against invading Orks! Smelling a fortune to be made for whoever kills the Warboss, the gangs ambush the Orks as they try to establish a camp!
Gangs got victory points for slaying Orks. The Fighting was rough until Petra’s Ash Waste gangers shot the Warboss in the back with a missile!
Suddenly, the Gang Leaders were swallowed with white light! They were teleported to an arena!
Last one standing wins!
The fighting was fast and fierce, and the last two opponents were both limping around with flesh wounds!
Finally, Syn Decote, leader of the Field Testers, was triumphant!
Syn Decote wrapped his cloak around his wounds. Only his armoured undersuit had saved him from being blown apart by the Palanite Captain’s lucky bolt rounds. He slammed a painkiller and took a deep breath.
A white column of light appeared in the center of the arena. With no other options, Syn readied his plasma pistol and stepped into the light.
He appeared before the Eldar Farseer that had helped the gangers before, when they had been ambushed by the Imperial Fists. Beside him were the other two Eldar with the slim meltaguns and the fire motif on their armour. Syn narrowed his eyes, but didn’t flinch.
“Greetings, champion of Man.” the Farseer said. “I am Yrthrian Mardawn, Farseer of the Aeldari. Long have I searched for one as you. I beg you, before you leave, hear my plea. I offer a lifetime of glory, luxury, and freedom.”
Syn figured that this alien could have slagged him at any time. He could have also set him rot in that sealed off room. Despite the drills from childhood about how aliens were scum, Syn decided to give the weirdo in the tall hat a chance.
“I’ll listen.” he spat.
The Farseer motioned to the Fire Dragons: “Leave us.” Even behind their tall helmets, Syn could sense thet were confused. They left after a moment, with Syn face to face with the Farseer. He removed his tall helmet, revealing pale skin, delicate features, and pointed ears. He spoke.
“Before I ask of your skills in combat, I must explain why I have searched for you so long. The Aeldari live on ships known as Craftworlds. My Craftworld, Saim-Hann, is ruled by the most dominant family. Many years ago, I received a vision of the future. In this vision, the galaxy was rent in two and the Great Enemy you know as Chaos tore the Human Imperium apart. The Craftworlds of the Aeldari were not spared this wrath. However, under the leadership of my family, Craftworld Saim-Hann survived, and aided the humans to hold back the night.
“My family was not in a position of leadership. Therefore, I challenged the ruling family. It was decided that in ten years’ time, we would choose a champion, and these champions would duel. The winner would bring glory to the family that chose them, and that family would rule.
“I scryed the future once again, and saw this place, this Hive. Within it, I knew I would find a champion capable of the victory I needed. I searched for years, ultimately deciding on the Human known as Bull Gorg. I spirited him away from the Human authorities that hunted him, and they presumed him dead. He accompanied me to Saim-Hann. However, something happened that no one foresaw:
“Bull Gorg and the champion of the opposing family slew each other at the exact same moment. No victor could be decided. So, both families agreed to another competition in ten more years.
“This time, however, I did not search at random. I contacted Rangers who ply the webways to manipulate events. I gave aid to House Ty and fueled their ambitions for dominance. I worked with the Human Inquisitor Von Styr, pitting him against his enemies. I gave false leads to the Astartes, who came in search of their fallen brethren, only to find you. Finally, I used all the resources at my disposal to re-direct an Ork WAAAAGH, but to weaken it so that it could not destroy this place.
“All this, I have done, to turn this Hive into a crucible. To burn away the impurities and find perfection. I believe you are the champion I need to save my world.
“For your services, I will extricate you from this hellish place. I will shower you with riches, and allow you to live on my Craftworld, or on any other planet in the galaxy, barring those belonging to the Exodites. I will even pledge my Craftworld to defend your Imperium from the coming darkness.
“For this, I require you fight for me. It will not be easy. But I believe you are destined to prevail.
“What say you, Champion of man?”
Syn was in awe. This guy had so much power, and all he wanted was a fight?
Syn could fight a guy. He did it all the time.
“You got a deal.” he said, holstering his pistol and extending his hand. The Eldar looked at the hand as if it were a rat three days dead, but then seemed to steel himself and shook Syn’s hand.
“Then, you shall come with us. It is a weeklong trek in the Ash Wastes to the Webway Portal.”
“Whatever.” Syn said.
It was the last word he would speak aloud on Necromunda. He was alright with that.