Vadinax Update, Week 8: March 22, 2023

The Vadinax Campaign is Goonhammer’s Global Crusade Campaign for Warhammer 40,000. Each week we’ll explore the major events taking place in the sector and talk about how players are shaping the ongoing story in the sector. 

Another action-packed week down, with a whopping 145 games played, primarily thanks to the narrative day event run on Perplior. And to go wtih this increase in games, their impact has gotten bigger as players play games worth more points. The fighting on Keplon heated up more siginficantly this week as the Imperium defenders learned about the arrival of the Ark of Omen Ten Thousand Lies and rushed to the planet’s defense.

If you missed last week’s update, you can find it here.

Keplon Keplon Keplon

Strike Force Kastiana rushed to Keplon this week, thoroughly defending the planet and eroding the Chaos foothold there. The scattered forces of Chaos are now regrouping and preparing for a new assault as infighting between Imperium forces and between Imperium and Aeldari now leave the planet open to attack.

Khorne is Once Again Ascendant

The Blood God’s followers made their prowess known this week, flexing the blood god back into the top spot of the Great Game with a massive showing from Crimbix and his legions of Khorne. The blood god’s favor is sure to rain down on the warband.



The conflict on the surface of Mordrax has quieted as battles have moved to the planet’s closest moon and the Ark Transport Gloriana, drifting through the void at the edge of the system.

On the moon, Aleph Proxima, Imperial forces and the armies of the Free Peoples have forced their way into the territory once held by The High Magistrate. In the aftermath of these battles, scouts are searching for the destination of the mysterious signal which began emitting from the vaults beneath the Lumina Radwastes several weeks ago. As yet this signal remains mysterious.

On the drifting Ark Transport, boarding parties press further and further into the damaged vessel searching for the archeotech and relics rumoured to be held within…

Farseer Idonel the Indomitable of Craftworld Iyanden watched from the observation dome aboard the “Asuryan’s Blade”. The sheer size of the craft they approached swallowed all light. This behemoth which the Mon-keigh had named “Ark Gloriana”, had haunted his dreams and every casting of the runes. No longer. With a thought he brought his singing-spear to hand and assembled his Wraithguard. It was time to board this “Ark”.

Eldar 21032023




The Ritual of Unmaking

After discovering cryptic markings all around the area of the prison, as well as the sewers beneath, the Tome Keepers made a discovery. Months of study and research into these markings revealed they were heretical runes for a heinous ritual, the purpose of which was a mass mutation, tainting every soul within the prison and remaking them in an image more fitting to the dark gods.  With this knowledge they alerted the Ordo Malleus, the Adeptus Custodes, and the PDF. 

The initial engagement

Taking the fight directly to the enemy, they found the forces of Nurgle and Khorne working side by side on this most unholy day. Their mission was to disrupt the ritual and stop the prison population from being warped into mutant hordes. 

On the west flank the Tome Keepers squared off against the Septet of Sewage, with their droning poems and the chanting of the ritual being blasted over their vox speakers. On the east flank, the Crimson Defenders brought to bear their heaviest tanks against the horde of Daemons of Khorne, with tank commander Cody at the helm of his Shadowsword. In the center, the Custodes strike force “Sol Operis” took point against all three, using their speed to try and pin the armies of Chaos. 

Commander Cody opens fire into a rhino APC of the world eaters, killing most of the squad in the explosion.

With the opening salvos of the Nurgle war machines raining down plague shells, and the World Eaters seemingly blindly charging forward, the pressure was on for the Imperium’s heroes. 

The eastern flank.

As the battle went on, the losses started to pile up on the side of the Imperials. The Crimson Defenders were hit with the full force of the Daemons, their forms seemingly uncaring for the caliber of firepower the guard brought to bear. 

Commander Cody faces down a Bloodthrister.

As the light of the sun fled, the Imperial’s knew they had to make a move and quick. With the forces of Khorne Daemons pushed all the way to the Imperial line, the Shield Captain Virgil made a desperate gambit in the Emperor’s name. 

Shield Captain Virgil faces off with the Plaguecaster Wiltman.

The two champions held nothing back, each fighting with fury unmatched. In the end, they laid each other low, however Virgil was recovered by his Custodes with a heartbeat.

A final poem was heard across the box from Wiltman, which is was transcribed by the Tome Keepers: 

O Contagion! My Contagion!

O Contagion! my Contagion! our fearful trip is done,
The point has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The ship is near, the bells I hear, the Astartes all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the oozing drops of jade,
                               Where on the deck my Contagion lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Contagion! my Contagion! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the banner is flung—for you the nurglings shrill,
For you postules and rotten’d wreaths—for you the objectives a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Contagion! dear Warlord!
                            This arm beneath your head!
                               It is some horror that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Contagion does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My Warlord does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is dock’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the surviving ship comes in with scheming done;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with doleful tread,
                               Walk the marker my Contagion lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

The morale of the Septet in the wake of their loss is not known at this time. 

Shield Captain Janus holds back a Soulgrinder to his last breath. The Emperor knows his name.

In the end, the Imperial forces were unable to stop the ritual in its entirety, however they were able to stop it from taking full effect. Portions of the prison are now being quarantined and purged, as their population has either mutated or been killed by those who did. There were several breakouts, having much to do with the recent siege by the Agrippa Rippers and the damage down to the prison walls as a result. The mutants that have escaped are in hiding, striking out at whoever comes near their nests.



A hive city in peril! Deus Veritas came under fire by the forces of Iásar-Athreith as the Aeldari were guided by a mysterious artifact. What rests at the end of this rainbow?

A moon has appeared in orbit above the planet! Seemingly natural in origin, but further investigation may prove otherwise.

The Git-Punta attempts to impress the Warboss of the Scrapyard, but his efforts are proving in vain. Can he get the recognition he so truly deserves and take over Waagh City?

The Caustic Stampede realizes it has been stranded in Nox Veritas by the rest of it’s hive fleet. How much biomass can they consume in efforts to escape and rejoin the hive?

Vyrkat Thuurk extradited himself to to Perplior as Imperium calls for aid, and promise of coin, reach his ears. Abandoning his holdings for the chance to crush revel in gold.

The taint of Chaos extends its reach across the planet as the traitors and Daemon find new interesting ways to perform rituals for their chosen god. Imperium continue their search for intel as to who in High Command could be sabotaging communications and forces on missions that are wasting resources.

The Caustic Stampede comes in contact with 420th Kriegers to fuel their need for biomatter, Credit: Connor C.




My Warmaster, is it with no small amount of satisfaction that I must report success in our first major campaign upon the world of Tern’s Endeavor. It is as has been foreseen – meager as though this world might be in outward stature, the resonance of it has sung out a death-cry of profound compulsion. Birds of prey descend for the feast, crows and vultures and eagles all the same. Our erstwhile cousins are dissimilar to us in this regard, deny it though they may – call it a noble feast, call it ripe carrion, it is to be dined upon with the same fervor and voracity.

To prolong the metaphor, our hawking shades are ravenous for the glory and plunder, showing an unchecked ferocity which may serve as a worthy example to others in the sector whose gains have been rather droll. They glut themselves upon the fruits of their victory and the steps upon the Crimson Path. Indeed, should their triumphs abound, they may prove worthy, as a whole of more boons than I have it upon me to bestow… so rest assured that only the greatest of this number will be presented, upon the world’s fall, to the higher echelons of favor with the Legion.

For now, we shall see who among these aspirants holds firm to their ambition. The bastion of the corpse-god’s faithful lies shattered, their own hands bringing about its fall when it was clear they could not hold it against us. A beautiful sight, I must admit… but my poetry on the matter ill suits a report as this. No. Valern Citadel lies a broken shell of its former self, ruptured by internal generator overload, punctured by artful splay of orbital lance strikes where they could pierce the fractal veil of its failing shields. Our crows redouble their searches for what treasures they may… and I, for one, delight for news of our goals in the trinkets they may present unto me.

Another step upon the Long War.

-The Marquis of Lilies


Ah, yes. Before I forget. Aleris, was it? I’m certain this communique has not gone unnoticed to you. I must thank you for your prompt attendance to this world, as it has certainly dispelled some of my worries about the present campaign. By all means, peruse our communications. I do so look forward to seeing what your Order thinks to hide upon this dreary rock, and to our future meeting. Though if you could dispense with those droll faithful platitudes, that would be lovely – it was an amusing affectation at first, but the novelty has well worn thin.


(The ruins of Valern Citadel. Image generated via

The Citadel’s Destruction

For the first of my collated reports, allow me to briefly elaborate upon the fall of the Citadel itself. Acting on the order of that Inquisitor who has so kindly arrived in-system – for who else would take such a step? – several Imperial forces conducted a bold strike against us even as their other forces utterly evacuated their final holdings. The goal was clear, it seemed – disabling several shields protecting critical outworks locations from orbital strikes, allowing the Inquisitor’s ship to launch precision attacks on prepared locations, destroying much of the outworks of the Citadel and forcing our final push back, while allowing Imperial control over the last and central bastions.

An audacious ploy, I must admit, and I must commend our enemies for their boldness. For little effect, however – though one of the Imperial strikes proved successful, the resulting blow was not enough to deter our advance. Seeing ruination at hand, our foes made the decision to overload their central generator complex as their final move. It denies us possession of a functional bastion, yes, but the destruction it wrought was hardly complete, nor could any orbital craft with sufficient lance-strike capacity linger long above the Citadel without inviting our reprisal.

Of course, not all Imperial forces were successful in escaping from Valern Citadel before its fall, and the various warbands under our banner have taken particular interest in prolonging our triumph over these unfortunate souls. Of the Xenos filth, there is little sign – it seems that the conclusion of the battle proper marked the end of their attention span. Good riddance, it is said, to bad company.

(Lord Vechmus Thrax leads a spearhead assault to drive The Rhinn Crusade from the ruins of Valern Citadel. Credit: Credit: “Krayon Prince” Darryl)

Unhallowed Graves

With our triumph over the Imperial bastion, the conflict in Tern’s Endeavor once again breaks down into individual expeditions and battles, our warbands seeking plunder and glory before they amass once again for our next offensive. A goal in which we are not alone, it seems – I am informed that some of the wretched Orkoid forms have engaged the local defender’s at Mellar’s Rift. If they are content to slaughter themselves while we gorge ourselves upon the spoils due to us, so much the better.

In their absence, the floating hulk-mass known locally as the “Graves” has garnered some attention from the aspiring warbands who pay respects to our banner. The wretched corpse-worshippers, of course, ever seek to deny us. No matter. As we crushed them at their bastion, so will they be banished from this front, in turn. Mayhaps there may even be spoils among the dead ships that are worth returning to your presence.

(Custodes of the sodality known as The Star, Reversed drive back an explorator force from the Dark Mechanicum. Credit: “Theseus Protocol”)

The Eye Weeps

If there is one cause for hesitancy in our present situation, my Warmaster, it is our comparative lack of force in the orbital volume – while the Imperial forces do not dominate it in its entirety, the fact that the Sentence could operate for so long in a contested position before we forced her disengagement is proof enough of this problem.

Thankfully, this issue has not escaped the aspirants upon Tern’s Endeavor – and without any prodding from myself, I should add, further proof of their laudable ferocity. Operations are underway to claim more of the Empty Eye, which should garner valuable footfold for further orbital operations. That several of the more “sophisticated” Xenos powers seem to be interested in the same is something of a foothold, but I must admit to some excitement at the prospect of Aeldari committing themselves to defending a static location. Not enough to impugn upon my role, of course, but should one of these warbands seek my favor with a banquet of souls so dearly sought by the Youngest…

(Sororitas fallen to the lurid sway of Chaos prowl the corridors of The Empty Eye in search of an orbital craft to commandeer. Credit: Nick H)


I will keep you apprised of further developments, my Warmaster, though through different lines of communication. For this event, I must admit, the allure of an interceptable communique was simply too great, but I will of course defer questions of legitimate strategical merit to appropriately obscure vectors of transmit.





The situation has taken a turn for the bleak for the Imperial forces on Parasbine Secundus. The forces of the Sun’Chur Dynasty have fought Strike Force Gladius to a stalemate at Rally Point Dauntless, allowing the Necrons to successfully awaken some of their heavier war machines. On the other side of the planet, Malioch Soulbinder’s forces have thoroughly thwarted the Sororitas-led effort to liberate the habs of Spall Hill.

Newly awakened Canoptek Wraiths. Photo: Chris W.

The Espern’s Drift Miners have fared much better than the formal Imperial forces, with the Trans-Hyperion Alliance retaking the refinery of Algol VII from Makarios’ Shock Troops. The hardy miners of the Departmento Laborum and their completely normal number of arms have not made an appearance in this fight, perhaps judging it too risky to attempt to leave the heavily patrolled Kephistrone dock complex to reach Algol VII.

Kin from Xathrid’s War Party armed with heavy weapons outflank the Apostles of Rot in Algol VII. Photo: Steven S.

Surely the Dark Gods must approve of how the forces of Chaos have demoralized the Imperials of late, for two of their number have been elevated to daemonhood. Korvash the Bloody, of the Hounds of Perdition, as well as Malioch Soulbinder himself, now stalk the wastes of Parasbine Secundus as daemon princes.




This week, a tale from the front:

Malec’s feet rang loudly down the metal corridor as he ran.  His lasgun slapped his back every few meters, its ammo rune glowing an angry red: empty.  He gripped his holdout auto pistol in one hand, pumping the other, his lungs on fire.  Space Station Pumilian, where Malec had been fighting for gods know how long, was going to kill him.  A station that covers over 4 million square kilometers feels quite small when you are fighting in the heart of it, deck by deck.  The same stale air, the same bulkheads, the same Imperium lap dogs trying to gun him down.  This day, this day would be different.  Malec stumbled over the corpse of one of his brothers, bringing him back to the moment as his face slammed into the metal grille of the corridor floor.

“Warpshit that hurts!”  Malec grunted, as he rolled onto his back, spitting a wad of phlegm and blood to the deck.  The body belonged to Trag, his chest was blown out by a mass reactive bolt.  Trag was supposed to meet Malec at the locked door they had discovered to help him get it open.  “You better have brought a torch with you.” muttered Malec as he flipped the corpse over, relieved to find the equipment in Trag’s webbing.  Discarding his empty lasgun, Malec took the torch and continued his sprint down the corridor praying to whichever god would hear him.

Minutes later, he reached the sealed bulkhead.  Kyn runes were carved around the circular opening, gibberish as far as Malec was concerned.  But anything locked in this vast station normally means important equipment waits behind the obstruction.  Auspex in one hand, torch in the other, Malec went to work.  The bulkhead was surprisingly warm, but he didn’t have time to think about that. He and many of the Cult of the Bloodied Blade had resorted to scavenging the station for all manner of equipment.  In his experience, this door could yield anything from fresh water and ration packs to the remains of the station’s original owners.  It was in the gods’ hands now.  After several minutes of cutting away hinges, Malec was rewarded with a heavy clang and a large flash of bright light as the bulkhead dropped to the deck and fell backwards into the opening.

Lumens flickered on overhead as Malec blinked away the sudden explosion of light and took a cautionary step into the room.  The space was definitively Kyn, resembling a machine shop or repair bay.  Gargantuan rectangular devices covered in alien runes and arcane machinery  were sprawled on the floor and suspended from the ceiling in different levels of assembly or disassembly. Klaxons blared and red lumens began to flash seconds after his intrusion. Despite breaking into many sealed rooms, he had never seen this kind of alarm before.  The reason for the alarm became immediately clear as tendrils of incorporeal aurora light splintered through the torn open entryway, moving at rapid speed to each of the suspended rectangular devices.  It all happened in an instant, the air around the hanging equipment shimmered like it was burning hot, mixing with the tendrils of multicolored light to form swirls in the air.  As the tendrils passed through him, Malec took a trembling step back, his insides twisting and his stomach turning cold; the exact feeling he experienced every time his troop ship had jumped through the warp.

Unbeknownst to Malec, he had stumbled into a Votann warp core repair facility.  Votann warp cores are normally heavily shielded in the hulls of their warships to keep the denizens of the warp away from the sensitive psychic material within.  Tendrils of warp corruption from elsewhere on the station were drawn to this room the moment Malec cut the door and broke the warding seals; feeding off the warp cores like a babe seeking sustenance.  Seconds after the shimmering warp tendrils reached the warp cores, reality tore open, obliterating Malec, his soul immediately consumed by the gods he worshiped so dearly.  Space Station Pumilian is now under siege by the horrors of the warp.

Tune in next week to see more of our regular Perplior updates!

Next Week: Entry into the Joust

That wraps up our look at the Vadinax Campaign results this week but tune in next week when we follow some of the players vying for tournament tickets for the Joust. Until then, if you have any questions or feedback, drop us a note in the comments below or email us at

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