A very small band of grots have made their way onto the very back-end of the worm now moving between Nasson and Neolotl, and it is time to allow their spiders to weave their nests in order to take root in this new world. But where? Do they descend into the depths, away from the eyes of the Duardin that now fly above the worm, or do they attempt to create a hasty defensive structure, on the underside of one of the worms many spine-like outcroppings?
Where Best to make a Nest?
A spiders nest is something of sublime elegance. But it's also a pain to work out just where to put the damn thing...
Game Master Notes
These notes exist to help you run through the Quest. They are put here by the creator and should give you some direction as to what they had in mind when they created the Quest
This Quest has been made specifically for the Vurm-tai Campaign. If you intend to help resolve it, you’ll automatically be participating in the campaign. I highly recommend that you join our Discord server so you can work with others to accomplish the quest.
Part of participating in this Quest is actually deciding where to lay the nest if that's what you're fighting for. Otherwise, you'll be fighting against the grots, in order to destroy their attempts at making their lovely new home.
- The Weaver -
Rewards
Sometimes a Quest creator will tell you what you get for completing the Quest, depending of the outcome of course. If there is nothing, you can obviously create your own rewards, ahhh… imagine the possibilities…
I mean, you could get yourself a little cosy home on the back of a giant moving worm, what more could you want...?
Have you played through this Quest or Rumour?
If you’ve played through or resolved this in any way, be sure to tell us right here on the Quest page, we’d love to know what happened!
Father Rottingham considered the mewling creatures before him. The blightkings were dragging they’re wounded and dead away from the skirmish, still smoldering from the molten breath of the magmadroths. They whined like over burdened sows, sad of the loss of so many championed warriors. One even sobbed over what was left of his brother, scraps mostly.
It tickled the Great Unclean One to see such rampant despair amongst the followers, as ill timed as it was. They had intercepted the duardin before they made they’re progress over to the Great Worm, and a small battle had ensued that was over almost as quickly as it began. The searing stunted folk crashed into his rank of plaguebearers and slew them in moments.
The corpulent demon was still adjusting to the sickeningly clean air of Ghur and as such was not at his best capabilities. He hawked out a clump of grubs in disappointment, all the excitement of his first true battle in ages ended with him escorting the wimpering Rotbringers back to their hole. The great demon plucked a nurgling from this folds and chomped down upon it like a sweet bean bun.
He watched the Lord of Plagues stomped ahead in silence, deaf to the pleading rotbringers around him. Father Rottingham could tell Lord Kuru was unused to being on the receiving end of the Shattered God’s fury. The corrupted Knight had fought on their side ages ago, and probably still respected their religous zeal. The great one nodded in agreement to his own commment, because he could relate to loving ones father so dearly.
“This won’t happen again.” the rotbringer spoke finally.
“Oh really?” chuckled Father Rottingham “and what will be different next time?”
“Next time we bring the whole clergy.” he responded dourly” I sorely overestimated my abilities and that of my flock.” he looked back upon the demon, torchlight glinting of what little silver was left upon his helm. He raised his axe and cut down the last two survivors of the blightkings. ” and a cull to weed out the weak is in order.”
He stomped off again, Father Rottingham followed along picking up the bodies of the fallen and chucking them into his maw. He roared out a baleful laugh that shook his corpulent form, truly this corrupted Knight would be entertaining to follow for some time.
Pusly looked over to his band brothers, all somewhat shook at the pilgrimage they had just gone one. He hefted his rusted axe over his shoulder and coyly kicked a rock off the cliff path they wandered down
“So are we gonna talk bout what just happened?”
“I don’t really want to, but his you feel you must” Blightlord Toxis sighed.
“Well, its just that we went on this two week excursion and accomplished what exactly?” Pusly asked.
“Papa Nurgle’s will, plain and simple” Brother Soros spoke plainly, heaving his sonorous tocsin higher onto his shoulder. It responded with a familiar deep ring.
“Yea I get that, but how do we serve his will by going up that back of this godbeast and picking at old sores?” Pusly grumbled ” all the good fighting is back down in the tunnels”
The blightlord spun on his heel and pointed a bloated finger at the younger blightking ” We are not some bloodthirsty Khornate wartribe that just throws ourselves blindly at the enemy, we are Rotbringers, masters of patience and faith in our god in all his fetid glory.”
He continued” We take the time that is needed, and do the acts that the other servants of their hasty gods would deem beneath them, we follow orders deemed foolish or suicidal because we are the faithful.”
He turned back and gestured to Ser Oris von Cancrum, who trod ahead of them the mushroom crusted head of the troggoth king in one hand and the bell they dredged out of the thrice blessed swamp in the other.
“He chose us to join him on this holy mission, personally I may add.” the blightlord was close to shouting at this point.
Pusly meekly responded “So were the triplets,”
Toxis sighed “yes they were, and in dying in service to Papa Nurgle, they will languish in the deepest groves of his garden.”
Soros spoke up “It was pretty amusing when the troggboss popped Old Skaktus like an overripe rockfruit”
The three started giggling at the thought.
“Yeah and also when those rockguts clubbed Pusly down into the swamp muck and we had to pull him out!” The blightlord laughing so hard he went into a coughing fit.
“Hey!” protested Pusly ” My helmet still isn’t sitting right.”
The men fell into laughter that echoed of the mountainside, so thoroughly distracted at their various misfortunes that bumped into the harbinger’s flybitten steed.
They stumbled, collecting their composure poorly like a gaggle of school boys stuck on an inside joke. Pusly was the first to speak.
“I’m sorry ~hngk~ my lord ~hngk~ what seems to be the issue?”
Ser Oris silently turned to the blightkings, attaching his Flesh Peeler to rotted horse. He drew his harvestmens scythe, so rusted it seemed it would fall from its haft. Silent as the grave, he repositioned his horse closer to the mountain. He raised his rusted relic,seeing the fear begin to creep into the Rotbringers eyes.
He smiled inward, and swung down the left of the trio and held his scythe there, startling his fellow mortals. They staggered away from the blade, they recently saw put down an ancient troggoth and were not willing to test its edge. Ser Oris chuckled and slowly brought the flat of his weapon closer to the blightkings, motioning them to the mountainside.
Not ones to argue with Lord Kuru’s right hand, the trio obliged and flattened themselves to the wall.
Ser Oris voice came out as a dry cluttered whisper, like a swarm of insects rubbed themselves against each other “Now you will see what our work has done.”
The Rotbringers looked at the Harbinger with almost childish confusion, which became fright as a massive shape sped past them towards from above. They looked up and saw dozens of various troggoths plummeting off the side of the mountain ,some rebounding off the trail with heavenly bonesnapping sounds.
“What the blighted hell is going on?” Soros had to yell just to be heard of the sounds of troggoths colliding with the distant ground.
The harbinger spoke sounding far too pleased with himself “Now that their king is dead, they are lacking in even the most basic common sense and now almost blindly migrate towards they’re next meal.” He pointed out to the Great Worm that has finally made its approach.
Pusly peaked out over the edge and saw the tumbled troggoths resetting bones and attaching limbs at the base of the mountain. “Are they really just so dumb that they walk right off a mou-
A lagging fellwater troggoth crashed onto Pusly, flattening him into a pus-cream smear on the trail. Rolling off the edge, it continued its fall.
“Yes,” answered Ser Oris ” they are.” He kicked his steed back into motion down the trail.
The remaining two looked at each other, shrugged and hurried after the harbinger.
Kurdlydia Rank wood was sorceress of the grand gardener chuckle with glee as she started a ritual to call the great unclean one know as Golphormon the fowl and his legion of lesser Daemons in a crack of lighting Iron Templar had arrived end this ritual at the head of the host was Lord-Celestant Brawen the storm queen. Kurdlydia Rank wood had the numbers on her side but not ferocity and skill of opponents the two army’s smashed into each other the Rot bringers where like the tide of the ocean crashing into the rock wall that was steel redeemers shields might blows with hammer and blades ending their lives with no words spoken the paladins picked out strongest point in enemy lines and got to work smashing aside wrench carving a path for the Lord-Celestant to kill the wizard with one quick stab to the gut stopping the ritual.
storm cast Eternals minor win vs the slaves to darkness
5th Skalfhammer Squadron, Grundstok Co.
Sgt. Amberstock’s Log
Day 8, Nassollotyl Campaign
The gunhauler is up and running again. Command couldn’t spare us a transport, but they did send some balloon boys in with a spare endrin and tools to solve the buoyancy problem. This, however, did nothing for the hull those orruk tore through with that artillery piece. They sent us another problem also: a rampaging lizard with a hard carapace driven to us, likely to tire us out so the cowards could strike again. Bet they thought that shell plating would stop our aethershot, but Gronton repaired one of the skyhooks, so between that and the aethercannon, we took that beastie down. Then the balloon boys got an idea and began peeling off and cleaning down its shell, drilling holes and punching rivets through it. Next thing we see, after the lads and I have ourselves a lizardmeat cookout, they’ve hooked that shell up to the gunhauler upside down and are grinning like grots. It’s hideous, but it flies, so we do our final check-ins for any stragglers from the True Aelf crew or any worm worshippers. They can’t all fit into the already tight compartment, but we take who we can and whomever’s willing to hang off the side. We’re well past the safe weightage, but it flies. Kind of. Balloon boys have to clip themselves on and act as counterbalance as it careens uncertainly.
Day 9, Nassollotyl Campaign
Those damn orruk have been spotted tailing us. Damn beardlings opened fire and wasted ammunition, but Gazel’s tooth I hope it keeps those greenskins spooked.
Day 12, Nassollotyl Campaign
We finally made it to Command’s second set of coordinates on the worm’s tail. We see some of the big ships flying overhead, which sets the lads at ease. Logistician and I exchange notes via drillbeak, formalising hazard pay arrangements. They gave us supplies too, to make up for what was shared with the nomads, and orders to seek and destroy any grots in the vicinity.
Day 13, Nassollotyl Campaign
Scouts found a nest late day. Coordinates are relayed by drillbeak to the other squads. Orders are to converge in the morning for a combined strike.
Of course evening is when those profitless greenskins would show themselves again. The third watch caught some of the yellow ones sneaking in with explosives that looked like they came from an endrin academy rubbish bin, but not before some had been set on one of the supply tents. The explosion heralded the attack, this time led by the large one who had stayed hidden in the mist last time. More yellow grots scrambled through to try snatch away our packs and munitions. No games from them this time. The big one on the beastie did the most damage, followed by those barbed crossbows. We answered in kind, pumping aethershot via volleyguns on the small ones and hooks and cannonshot on the big one like we did before on the shelled lizard. When it was clear we weren’t relinquishing our supply, and right before the gunhauler lifted off the ground, the greenskins withdrew. Doubled the watch, but had to put some lads to counting the casualties too. If we’re lucky, Goldbeard won’t have to write any wergilt, but khemist’s convinced there’s some kind of poison in the wounds.
No matter the count, by morning, we’re for the nest. Gazel’s teeth, I hate these orruk, but the mission comes first, always.
[The Sons of Bugman AEC defend their supplies from the Orruk Kruleboyz, allowing them to support the coalition attack on the grot spider nest.]
Malrukh lent up against a tree and caught his breath. He didn’t remember how he came to be here, his brain felt as though it was full of spider webs. It didn’t matter now, anyway. His warband was all mostly wounded, having fought against some snake-like aelves on their way through the ruins of some temple built atop of the great worm.
As visions of his victory over the aelves washed over him, he barely noticed the roots of the tree as they began wrapping themselves around his leg. As one of the gutrippas yelled in surprise, the very trees themselves seemed to come alive, moving among the Orruks and cutting down those that didn’t react quickly enough. Malrukh barely avoided a scythe from the now visible treekin that assailed him, stumbled backwards over the roots to avoid losing his head.
As the tree loomed over him, it was suddenly grabbed in the mandibles of a gigantic spider, and tossed away – much to the enjoyment of the spider’s Grot riders. Whooping as they swarmed the living trees, the grots made short work of the guardians of this grove.
The shadowy grove of trees – tucked away like a natural oasis on the back of the great worm – would make a perfect nest for the newest generation of spiders, Malrukh though. He couldn’t remember why he cared, however.
(The Kruleboyz & Gloomspite Gitz warbands won two victories, first against a Daughters of Khaine/Splintered Fang alliance, and then against a large group of Sylvaneth. They hope to secure a grove of trees as a good nest!)
Lord Calaec of the Ley-Finders reporting back to the Living City.
After we recovered from our encounter with the Grots in the Forest of Gorch, I boarded an airship to helm an aerial pursuit of the Worm. Not only were there some Grots that deserved our wrath, but Willow-Baroness Adalanthel had informed me of the powerful ley-lines that were disrupted by the Worm’s new migration path and needed to be brought under control before others would abuse their power.
As we approached the Worm, we spotted the Grots that had slipped through our fingers in the Forest. They were in the process of burrowing down into the Worm and forming an underground stronghold for their spiders’ nest. With the pressure on Nassolytl building, we felt this was a threat we could not ignore.
I led my honoured retinue of Wildwood Rangers and the assembled Dryad forces onto the Worm to confront the Grots at their tunnels. Meanwhile, Willow-Baroness Adalanthel and a unit of my finest archers led by High Sister Thelveth remained on our airship, unleashing hell from the skies. We quickly dispatched of the Grot infestation and have since collapsed their mining tunnels.
As the dust now settles, we know we’ll have one less thing to worry about as the Worm reaches Nassolottyl. Though no time to rest. We push forward to aid in the control of the wayward ley-lines before others beat us to it.
(Pictures: https://twitter.com/WH_Narratives/status/1440500457827307523?s=19&fbclid=IwAR39XGiCaozs5Q5pwmfXDhoBTkd-PLJdnikTrhVmXduk2nGVSxGDkMkMLFY)