This is an account of the warband I brought to NEMO, the New England Mordheim Open in May 2025. Part 1 is the text of a zine I brought with me to hand out to my opponents. It’s background lore to explain who my Marauders of chaos are and why they’re in Mordheim. Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4 are a sort of narrative battle report of the three games I played at NEMO.
The journey to Mordheim was long and arduous. They crossed the breadth of the Empire. Travelling only by night, they followed the rivers while avoiding the roads. As a Norscan, Halgrim was used to being stealthy when needed. Sneaking through the wilds and forests to strike at wealthy unsuspecting settlements inland from the sea. It was the villages that felt safest from the northern sea raiders that made the most enticing targets. But though he was accustomed to it, going so long without combat and passing up so many prime targets was starting to grate on him.
Their efforts weren’t completely fruitless. Five weeks into their crossing of the Empire, in Middenheim, they came upon a unit of state troopers running drills in the wild. Halgrim and his warband followed them and watched until nightfall. When they had set up camp, they fell upon them and slew most of them. They took a handful of prisoners including their Captain, and forced them into servitude as guides. They were resistant at first but the Tong are experienced slavers and their barbed whips soon drove all willfulness from the captives.
They proved to be valuable guides. But as they drew closer to their goal, their fear of Mordheim overcame their fear of the lash. When at last they came within sight of the city, the Middenheimers became crazed, turning on their captors who began to slay them. Their captain however, kept a level head, watching the chaos unfold until he saw an opening and took it. While the nearest Tong tribesman was distracted, he struck. Ripping out the marauder’s throat with his teeth and cutting his bonds, he escaped into the woods with a small handful of his men.
“Let them go. We no longer need them,” commanded the Sorcerer.
Halgrim’s blood was hot and he found it difficult not to pursue his enemies, but his pious reverence for one so touched by the gods as the Sorcerer kept him under control.
“I have delivered you to Mordheim as promised, Sorcerer.” Halgrim replied. “Will you tell me now what we’re searching for?”
“There is a place of power within the city. A nexus of violence and carnage where the blood never ceases to flow. There I will draw the eye of the gods and I will gain their favor!”
“In service of our Lord Valkaati.” said Halgrim.
“…As you say,” replied the Sorcerer as he turned to enter the city.
Halgrim eyed him suspiciously before following. He would need to watch the Sorcerer closely. Nothing would stop Halgrim from returning to Valkaati’s camp in triumph, earning her favor and a place in her army.
The outer districts of the city were dead. Even the daylight seemed dimmer, colder, less full of color within the city walls. Halgrim had been aware of a scratching and skittering noise from the moment they entered the city. But as the sun began to set he started to hear something else. Heavier muffled sounds behind them, above them, and within the deeper ruins alongside the empty street they followed. Something man-sized was following them. He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out what it was.
As the last rays of sunlight melted away through the cracks between the ruined buildings, figures burst from the shadows all around them and fell upon them with an unnatural speed. Halgrim was not a sorcerer, he did not have the second sight, but even he could sense that something was wrong about these ambushers.
“Vampires!” spat the Sorcerer, confirming Halgrim’s suspicions. “The breath of the gods resides not within them. Their hearts contain no spark of the masters’ mighty divinity. Dispatch them quickly!”
“Easier said than done,” thought Halgrim. “These bastards are fast.” More than once Halgrim struck out with his sword with what was surely a death blow, only to strike the air. When he regained his balance, his opponent was never where he expected it to be. Even though he barely saw it move. The waste of flesh and muscle was once again behind him with an exultant look on its face. Or was that hunger?
But Halgrim was learning. This time he knew what to expect. He feinted a heavy cleave but rolled it into a wide swing which arced around behind him as he turned. Though he had misjudged where the vampire would be, striking too low, the blade did bite. The tip of his sword ripped through its lower abdomen; a blow that would have gutted a normal man. But the creature was not a normal man. It danced back and then immediately pounced forward onto Halgrim before he could recover from his attack. He was only barely able to get his shield up, using the momentum of his wide swing. He and the vampire fell to the ground together. With a furious look in its eyes, it snapped at his throat over the top of his shield.
Its strength was uncanny! Halgrim thought he was as likely to be crushed as to have his throat torn out. His blood was roaring in his ears. Or was that….skittering? Just then, a tide of rats exploded from the sewers and ruins around them. It broke over them like an errant wave, throwing off the vampire and rolling Halgrim over onto his front. He regained his balance and stood, the river of vermin flowing around his ankles. He looked up to see the vampires all bounding away across the rooftops, silhouetted by the green light of the moon Morsslieb.
“See how the Plague Father sends us aid!” shouted the Sorcerer in triumph, causing the Tong marauders to cheer. Through the haze of the ruins, Halgrim saw other figures emerge. Larger like a man, but still hunched and ratlike, these fresh challengers carried crude weapons and shields.
“I don’t think they are here to help us,” said Halgrim as he hefted his shield into place, preparing to charge.
“No!” commanded the Sorcerer. “We must not let them delay us!”
Halgrim spun to face the Sorcerer, his choler rising. “You would have us run? You would show cowardice in the face of the enemy? Surely the gods would curse-”
“The gods have a more important task for us today than to play rat catcher.”
Halgrim could see that the Tong tribesmen were already following the Sorcerer’s command and retreating down a side street. Seeing that he would be unable to fight these new enemies alone, he spat one final curse at the ratmen and grudgingly turned to follow his warband. But was it truly his warband? The Sorcerer had given them to him, but when it mattered they followed the Sorcerer’s commands, not his. Having risen to chiefdom once before over his own tribe, Halgrim knew a time would come when a challenge would need to be issued.
The Sorcerer was testing Halgrim to assess his worthiness to join the warhost of Valkaati Blacksteel. But Halgrim knew that the only judgement that truly mattered was that of the gods. And they would judge him poorly if he continued to meekly submit to the Sorcerer when he had the strength to challenge him. As they made their way down the darkened alleyways, the Sorcerer eyed Halgrim with a cold and knowing glance.
Kitbash Chaos 
Leave a comment