Case: Sky-Port

Rough linen footwraps rustled on the cobblestones as the Brotherhood of the Absent Flame approached their destination. A dozen or so streetlamps fought moonlight for the dominance of the empty streets, their light painting the cobbles gold and silver. Shadows had grown long already, and none but the gong farmers and corpse-carts were moving in the alleys.

Investigator Roderick Usher had received a hint from one of his contacts in the Oldentown Sky-Port that an unregistered shipment had arrived just this evening. Brought in by an unremarkable duardin zeppelin and carried away by paid-off dockhands, the cargo was now waiting for its buyer outside the import dock warehouses. Unregistered, untolled and unguarded, the shipment was an excellent target for Usher's Unofficials. They needed tools to ply their trade, and rumour had it that the shipment contained weapons and black powder.

Too bad the Sky-Port warehouses were located in a night-time restricted area, guarded by City Watch patrols.

"We're close now, and the patrol won't be back for a moment," Father Eli Darenport whispered to Usher beside him as they turned yet another corner.
"The shipment should be here somewhere, outside warehouse thirteen... or eighteen. Hard to say," Roderick replied, turning the piece of parchment around in his hand and squinting.
"Michael's not especially good at handwriting. Might be why he's working at the Sky-Port docks to begin with."

They were accompaned by five Brothers this evening: Owen with his greathammer, Nash with his arquebus, Reece with his polearm, Ashton with his javelins and Adrian with his flail. It was the largest operation Usher's Investigation office had ever pulled off. They would need this shipment of weapons to arm the new fanatic followers Father Eli brought into the Brotherhood each week.

The import docks of the Sky-Port. The objective lies in the bottom left quarter of the map, surrounded by a 18"x18"  Safe Area inside which the models cannot be caught by the City Watch. Any models outside the Safe Area at the end of battle round 3 suffer D3 mortal wounds.

The streets of Oldentown Sky-Port's import dock district. The area is restricted and guarded at night-time.

A stash of weapons, ammunition and other rather useful wares left unguarded for the night.

"There!" Brother Reece blurted suddenly, pointing his polearm to their left.
"That's the shipment!"
A duardin cart, two reinforced chests and a dismountable repeater's strongbox were lying in a pile, in the shadow of the warehouse veranda.
"Indeed it is. Yet this is warehouse sixteen. Remind me never to ask Michael write anything down anymore," Usher sighed, stuffing the parchment under his belt.
"Right, let's just...."

CLANG, chip chip chip.

"What's that?" Father Eli asked, spinning around. The Brothers around him gripped their weapons harder and spread out in different directions.
"Where did that come from? What is it? The guards?" Roderick demanded, but the others stayed silent.

They were not alone anymore.

The alleys were dark around them, for the sputtering light of the streetlamps did not reach here. This place was not meant for night-time use.

"Reece, you have the torch. Go and see what's out there," Usher ordered. His hand was resting on the holster of his baroque pistol.
"Aye, sir," the Brother replied, hefting his polearm and taking a couple of steps towards the darkness.

Then suddenly a cacophony of hisses and roars exploded from the shadows. Out of the dark charged an entire pack of ghouls... and a gigantic Crypt Horror.

Brother Ashton raised his hand to toss a javelin, but the monster struck him down with a giant club right where he stood. Father Eli roared in fanatical fury and swung at the beast with his sigmarite hammer, but the weapon merely glanced off the creature's thick hide. Brother Nash stood further down the street, firing his arquebus in the general direction of the enemy. Needless to say he missed – aiming is difficult without eyesight.

At the same time the Ghoul King, the largest of the breed, ran straight into Reece. The Brother's polearm sank deep into the creature's chest, but the Ghoul King merely ignored the wound and picked Reece up by the neck with one clawed hand. Slowly, as it savouring it, the King pressed its longsword through the man's belly, twisting it, and tossing the writhing body away to the side.

Roderick stared at the scene, his mouth wide open in disbelief.

Quickly, the Brotherhood organized a counter-attack. Adrian the Prophet and Usher himself confronted the Ghoul King, whereas Father Eli fought the Crypt Horror one-on-one. Brother Nash stood a bit to the side, his sightless eyes gazing skywards whilst he reloaded his gun.

Usher charged the Ghoul King and slashed his silver greatsword across the beast's torso, sending it sprawling on the cobbles. Adrian had raised his flail for a strike too, but the King did not rise again.

Father Eli smacked his hammer on the kneecap of the Horror, gaining its attention. Another strike to the monster's side even drew a grunt from it's ugly lips, and Eli had to dive away from under the swinging club that came his way.

Brother Owen ran at the three ghouls sneaking up to the shipment, descending upon them like an incarnation of Sigmar's wrath. His heavy sledgehammer struck the street, fracturing flagstones, as the creatures of the night danced away from his swing. Before he got a chance for another blow, the creatures jumped on him. Bone shivs and rusty cleavers drove the muscled man to the ground, bleeding.

There were sounds coming from the streets behind them. The City Watch! Everyone had to get to the shadowy alleyways of the warehouse or risk being caught!

This was easier said than done, however, as the Crypt Horror pushed its way in between Eli, Nash and the shadows, stranding them out in the open light of the streetlamps.
"Oh you wily little bastard, come here!" Father Eli challenged, setting upon the monster once more with his hammer.
"Nash! Do not fire that gun no matter what, or we'll all get arrested!"
"Gotcha, Father. No guns," the blind Brother replied, staring off into the night.

The ghouls at the shipment left Owen struggling with his wounds and ran for Usher and Adrian, circling them in with their superior numbers. Things were starting to look grim for the Unofficials...

Father Eli smashed his hammer into the Horror, fracturing something inside its chest. Yet to his amazement he saw that the strikes he had dealt earlier had all been healed. The monster's bones had come together and its skin had re-knit itself.
"Huh, peculiar..." the priest mumbled, just before the Horror's club struck him square in the chest, sending him flying out into the light of the streets behind him.

"Hey, you two! What in Sigmar's name are you doing here?! This is restricted area!"
An angry shout came from the streets. The patrol was there. Father Eli was laying on the street, bleeding and barely breathing. Brother Nash stood still beside the priest.
"Evening, guardsman! We... ehh... we're a bit lost on our way! Would you mind escorting us to Tumult Street?" the blind man called back at the patrol.
"You're both under arrest! Now pick your friend up and follow us, we're taking you into custody," the guards ordered.
Brother Nash fumbled for Father Eli's prone form and began dragging him to the patrol. They were both out of the operation for now.

While the Unofficials lost half their current number to the City Watch, Adrian the Prophet was overrun by the stabbing and shanking ghouls, leaving Roderick alone with the beast pack. He struck down one of the creatures as it leapt at him, but there were still four of them in total. They all looked at him with hungry, gleaming eyes. 

But Usher would not give up the fight so easily. He spun his greatblade about, cutting down two ghouls that were coming for him. The third one came at him with a rusty meat cleaver, but Roderick dodged the swings and kicked the ghoul back.

The Crypt Horror came rushing at him, and Usher managed to block the incoming club just barely. The monster turned about for another swing, and the last ghoul lurked behind him. Two against one.

Roderick made a decision. He stepped back, lashing out with his sword to catch the sneaking ghoul from his rear. The blade cut deep into the creature's neck, leaving it writhing on the bloody cobbles.

Yet this decision came with a price. The Horror's club smashed into his back, knocking him prone. A giant fist followed, but Usher rolled to the side, hearing cobbles shatter beside his right ear. He wrestled himself up from the ground, only to receive a kick to his belly that sent him sprawling again. The Crypt Horror loomed over him, snarling. It raised its club for the killing blow.

Usher snatched out his pistol.

Click-BLAM!

For a moment it seemed like time had stopped, the monster still at the ready to bring down its club. A dark spot had appeared beneath its chin.

The club fell on the cobbles with a clatter. The Horror gurgled and tilted forward. Then it slumped down on the street beside Usher. Stone dead.

Roderick exhaled loudly, lowering his pistol. For what had felt like an eternity he had been sure this would be his end. Yet he had survived, saved by his trusty firearm.

Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position. His back felt like it was on fire, spears of pain shooting out across his entire body. He looked around at the scene of battle, his badly wounded subordinates crawling around in pain or having passed out entirely. A couple of ghouls were limping off into the dark, while some yet remained where they had fallen. Taking a deep breath, Roderick rose up.

He slid his spent pistol back into its holster and limped up to the shipment by warehouse sixteen. Weapons, firearms and ammunition. What a great addition to the office arsenal!

Carving his sigil on the support beam of the veranda with his knife, Usher marked the area as theirs. A small and subtle sign, but the gangs would notice. Then he set off to help his employees.

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Check out the campaign progress at: Streets of Oldentown

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