We’re two weeks into our Path to Glory map campaign – rules are here.

Each alliance has their own secret mission to fulfill as well as trying to conquer as much of the territory as they can in 12 campaign rounds. However, should any one alliance claim at least 50% of the map, the campaign immediately ends in their victory.

We’ve finished our first campaign round. The Grand Alliances are currently plotting their next moves….

BREAKING: The Heavens Roar, the Swamp Burbles, and the Horses Have Fangs

As the curtain falls on the first two weeks of conflict in the Path to Glory campaign, one truth emerges: war is messy, swampy, and occasionally feverish.

At Fort Atherin, Stormcast forces of the Argent Convent clashed with a coven of Tzeentch in a battle that looked less like a fair fight and more like Sigmar himself decided to send a very loud message. The Disciples of Tzeentch, led by a Gaunt Summoner likely regretting every single spell he ever cast, found their schemes unraveling. While the Tzaangor line bravely attempted to slow the onslaught, it was ultimately the Prosecutors that shredded the backline like celestial blenders. Victory was not just achieved; it was ascended. Fort Atherin is now securely in Sigmarite hands, purified of corruption, and possibly scented with divine pine.

Meanwhile, in a place called the Rotwood, a much grittier tale unfolded. Stormcast mercenaries, led by a fearless Knight-Zephos, engaged the Kruleboyz of Gollok Swampcrawla in a fog-choked meatgrinder of a battle. Gollok himself nearly secured a heroic swampy victory before being pummeled into an unrecognisable smear by very angry hammers. Witnesses claim Gollok’s body vanished, either spirited away by his loyal boyz or absorbed by the swamp who is said to have opinions. Though bloodied, the Stormcast held the field. The swamp, predictably, remains horrid.

Elsewhere, the Cities of Sigmar force known as the Troglodyte Hunt attempted diplomacy with squigs using the traditional method of charging. Initial success was followed by chaos, including a tragic moment where squigs treated a Hurricanum like a chew toy. Nonetheless, Marshal Growlholt’s cavalry once again saved the day, ensuring that the Gloomspite menace retreated back to whatever dank warren they oozed from. Growlholt now reportedly refuses to speak to anyone who uses the word “bounce.”

And then there’s the incident now known as the Great Flattening of The Wyld Plains, where the Sons of Behemat demonstrated that sprinting downhill is, in fact, a valid strategy. The Maggotkin of Nurgle, who had shown up expecting a grim melee of decay and rot, were instead introduced to the experience of becoming speed bumps. Two giants, no tactics, zero mercy. The land has now been forcibly named The Wyld Plains by the victors, who have constructed a crude music camp and spend their days chasing fang-toothed horses. Teddurak, one of the giants, is currently recovering from a bout of Realmpox. We wish him a speedy recovery and fewer tambourine solos.

ADDENDUM: “Just As Planned,” Says Tzeentchian Leader, After Being Used As Blunt Instrument

A late report has surfaced from the war-scarred lowlands, where a band of Tzeentchian cultists attempted to outwit a warband of Sons of Behemat, apparently under the impression that arcane manipulation could overcome raw, continent-shattering force. It could not.

Witnesses report that the battle began (and mostly ended) with the thunderous cry of “ZOKUL SMASH!” as the mega-gargant in question began enthusiastically turning the battlefield into a meat blender. One unfortunate Tzaangor was flung like a living javelin into a unit of Enlightened, which scattered like particularly smug confetti. A massive club followed shortly thereafter, sweeping aside dozens of cultists in a single heaving arc.

The smaller gargants, meanwhile, showed their usual refined battlefield etiquette, namely, kicking, punching, and headbutting everything that smelled like bird, chaos, or magic. Tzaangors were launched into nearby trees, the ground, and occasionally each other. Disks of Tzeentch, who moments earlier had been gliding ominously, retreated, riders in various states of regret.

The battle lasted approximately nine minutes, a fact the gargants would later attempt to turn into a drinking game.

Eighty-one minutes later, Tzeentchian commander Kazem awoke in the mud, bones creaking and pride thoroughly pulverised. His disk lay wounded beside him, possibly contemplating unemployment. Around him, the handful of surviving Tzaangors staggered upright like extras in a tragicomedy. Kazem, bleeding and broken, allowed himself a single sigh of bitter reflection.

“Just as planned,” he whispered before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Sources confirm the gargants have not noticed they were even in a battle.

Strategic Overview: Alliances Prepare for Round Two

With territory claimed, blood spilled, and questionable music echoing across the lowlands, the Grand Alliances are drawing up battle plans for the next wave of conquest.

The brutish hordes of Destruction are stampeding west, eager to claim The Maw and the delightfully dreary Swamp of Bones as their own. Meanwhile, the forces of Order, ever the strategists, are focusing their efforts on securing the chilly island of Vesterburrow up north because nothing says civilization like a windswept rock in the sea.

Chaos, never ones to miss a chance to ruin a good time, are spreading south like a bad rash and eyeing the Wyld Plains, The Maw and the oh-so-welcoming Isles of the Damned. Not to be outdone, the legions of Death are shambling toward the Bay of Bones, eager to pry it back from Chaos’ grubby claws, all while making sure they don’t get boxed in like last week’s corpses.

And then there are the Mercenaries trying to scoop up the remaining northern isles while sneakily pushing eastward to see what loot (or victims) they can find.

Stay tuned for next week’s special feature: “Is It Still a Siege if They Just Run Through the Wall?”. A tactical deep-dive with people who should know better.

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