AND YOU SAID THIS 'WARCLUB' IS PLAYED MOSTLY WITH DICE? Death said, his words not spoken but heard, each syllable weighing my mind down.

"Warhammer," I corrected him politely. "And yes. But to play, you must first choose an army."

I USUALLY PLAY BLACK TO GIVE MY OPPONENT THE FIRST TURN.

"Oh, uh," I chuckled lightly, "Warhammer goes beyond that. There are many factions, each with a set of advantages and unique mechanics. It's more... varied, let's say."

I SEE, Death nodded along.

"Sir... uh, Death, if I may - why the interest?" I questioned carefully.

IT IS CUSTOMARY FOR ME TO PLAY A DEAD SOUL. SHOULD THEY WIN, THEY GET AN... EXTENSION. EVERYONE PICKS CHESS AND, IN THE END, I ALWAYS WIN. IT GETS BORING, YOU SEE? Death explained, the small, blue lights in his empty eye sockets flickering lightly.

"Can't argue with that," I shrugged.

WHAT... 'ARMY' WOULD YOU RECOMMEND FOR ME?

I looked over my collection. I was an avid fan and had at least a solid composition for every faction. My eyes finally settled on a familiar sight.

"I believe Necrons would suit you."

WHY IS THAT?

I blinked slowly and looked at the cold, skeletal faces of my Necron warriors before shifting my gaze to the cold, skeletal face of Death.

"...no reason," I lied.

WHAT ABOUT THESE? Death asked and pointed a skeletal finger towards a group of hardened warriors.

"A great choice," I commended. "You'll need these," I said and slammed a large box on the desk.

ARE ALL THESE DICE? Death asked.

"Yep."

THAT IS AN OBSCENE AMOUNT OF DICE.^(1)

"That's Orks for you. They shoot a lot. They miss a lot. But you're bound to hit with some of the bullets."

Death paused for a moment. YES, he finally said. THIS AMUSES ME.

"Good," I smiled. "Now, if you want to just get into a game quickly, we can do that."

I WOULD LIKE TO EXPERIENCE THIS GAME FULLY IF THAT IS QUITE ALRIGHT.

"Well..." I said and scratched the back of my neck, "to really get into Warhammer, I personally think that you have to start by painting your own army. Really immerse yourself. I got some blank models, but no paints at the moment, I'm afraid."

WILL THESE SUFFICE? Death said and pulled a cluster of glass bottles from his robe, each containing different paint. I picked one up; it was a colour that didn't actually exist. Just looking at it hurt my eyes. I hastily put it back down.

"Yes, these are perfect. Now. Allow me to tell you the first cardinal rule of Warhammer," I said with a stern expression.

YES?

"Always thin your paints," I laughed.^(2)

​

​

​

​

^(1) To give Death credit, it truly was an obscene amount of dice. Each was blessed by Gork - or perhaps Mork - to guarantee that the rolls would be wildly inconsistent to even the most skilled hand.

^(2) Seriously. Always.

Death stared at the two dice. The two dice stared right back at her, a single unblinking dot on each.

"Oh, bad luck," I said. "But that makes up for the double sixes that you rolled last turn."

"So what does this mean?" Death asked.

"You didn't quite make the charge," I explained. "You were three inches away, so you needed to roll a 3 or higher over the two dice.

Death regarded me with baleful eyes. "You told me this was an unfailable charge."

"Almost unfailable," I corrected.

"Hrmph," Death said. "I'm not sure I like this game. It lacks... inevitability."

"It's considered bad form to complain about your dice rolls," I said. "We all meet with bad luck sometimes."

"I have met Luck many times," Death said, "and She is neither good nor bad, but merely perverse. Nevertheless, I shall be having words with Her."

We both regarded the table in silence for a few moments. Then I cleared my throat. "You don't have any command points for a re-roll-"

"Convenient," Death grumbled

"-so it's the end of your turn. And since you went second, then you score at the end of this turn-"

"Another rule?" Death muttered.

"-and you didn't manage to knock me off that objective, so you only score another 5 victory points. So that puts us at a final score of 64 to 63. To me."

"You won by one point?" Death asked.

"Technically I should have an extra ten points for a fully painted army," I said. "But since you're a beginner, I didn't want to unfairly penalize you for playing with gray plastic."

"I see," said Death with awful finality. "You are being magnanimous."

"It was a fun game," I added quickly, "and you did great for somebody who hadn't played before."

I offered her my hand. She looked at it oddly, and then, hesitantly, shook it. To my surprise, the flesh did not fall from my bones, and to my even greater surprise, her hand was warm.

"Let us play again," Death said. "And this time, let us play with 2000 points a piece."

"Strike Force?" I said. "Are you sure? Those games can take a while."

"Were you going somewhere?" she asked.

I looked around, at the endless Halls of the Dead that stretched into darkness. I looked up, past the high vaulted arches to where distant stars and unknown planets twinkled above us. All things considered, it was an appropriately atmospheric setting for a game of Warhammer. There were some players in my gaming club who would have been dying to play in this kind of environment.

"No," I said. "I don't suppose I am. Alright, let's reset the table..."

More stories at /r/jd_rallage

I feel myself come back. From where?

One rectangular shaped piece at a time the inky blackness breaks to light. Someone is unburying me from rubble. Wait, no. Not rubble.

I hear the crumpling of shrinkwrap. I see faint text. That font. I’d recognize it anywhere.

It’s my Warhammer 40k backlog.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the light becomes unbearably bright. I try to groan but my throat is bone dry. My hand is free now. I rub the sleep away from my eyes and open them.

I blink a few times. It’s still there. I squeeze my eyes shut. Prayers I’ve long forgotten begin to rattle in my head until it crescendos into a blaring orchestra of disjointed voices. I open my eyes and it stops.

A long Abaddon Black cloak shimmers in shades of Macragge Blue and Genestealer Purple. Inside the hood was as deep as Black 3.0, sucking the light out of my room. I try to speak again, but an awkward choke is the only thing that escapes.

“You’ll be able to speak soon. Give it time.” The sound of its voice is cool. Soothing.

Two piercing, faceted eyes of Waystone Green appear in the hood. They’re set in a skull seemingly dipped in Skeleton Horde. I would’ve dry brushed.

“You always have questions. Look around and find answers for yourself. It’ll make it much easier once you’re able to speak.”

I look around my office. Everything is as I remember, save for the two bookshelves that have crashed down onto the floor. They carried my entire backlog. There’s dried blood caked into the carpet.

Oh.

I sit on my coffin of cardboard and plastic. The first word is finally free.

“Why?”

“That question always seems so important, doesn’t it?”

Death comes closer.

“Why?” It says.

I think of the most recent army I started collecting. I waited years for my dream faction to finally be playable in the current edition, only for the next edition to be expected in less than a year. I felt my fist clench.

Death was right, nothing did make sense.

Death made its way to the other side of the room in a silent glide. It stopped short of my finished miniatures.

“You have an eye for beauty.”

What? “T-thanks. His name is Be’lakor. He did the rounds on Reddit when I posted him.”

Death doesn’t respond. It continues to scan the shelf.

“Sorry, Reddit is a site where you can po-”

“I know what Reddit is.”

“Sorry.”

Death stops in front of my most completed projects, a handful of combat patrols.

“Which army is your favorite?”

“Oh well that’s so hard to choose, I just love the whole universe. I would probably say I’m most excited to play the Astra Militarum which is basically - okay have you seen Alien?”

“Which is your favorite to play?”

My face goes hot. “Well.. I.. I haven’t exactly gotten to play just yet.”

An almost imperceptible turn of Death’s Head.

“I.. I’ve painted a lot of different armies,” I start to explain. “I tried to get family to play but everyone quits after the first 30 minutes of explaining the rules.. I.. usually forget them and then relearn them when someone shows interest, but no-one really ends up playing. That’s what those small armies are for, loaner armies I guess. The nearest game store is far and I don’t have a full army painted yet.. I just get distracted I guess. I really like painting. I have played all of the games and I'm getting into the lore. I tried playing against myself in a tabletop simulator but I haven’t played with anyone else on account of the social anxiety and-”

“Who are these?” Death stands before my Chaos armies.

“Oh, those are all the forces of Chaos I have. They’re from another plane of existence, kind of like you I guess. There’s a whole lot of gods and demons and-”

“They are nothing like me.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you..”

“They are Legion.”

“Well, kind of. They don’t always get alo-”

“I am the only One.”

It’s quiet in my office. I was torn between sympathy and existential dread.

I try to break the awkward silence. “Well, you never know. There could be more. Warhammer spans 40,000 plus years! New gods and demons appear all the time. Like Slaanesh, Slaanesh was born out of the hedonism of the Aeldari. It’s pretty metal right? I dunno, maybe it can happen in our universe.”

Suddenly Death is facing me.

“Under special circumstance I am able to present a challenge. Life or death. A wager for your soul.”

“Like in that song with the fiddles and playing it hot?”

“Yes. However, the game is traditionally chess.”

“Oh.”

“I would like to make an exception for you. I want you to teach me this Warhammer.”

“Sure.. ok! It’ll take a while to explain and I need to brush back up on the rules though..”

Death holds the rulebook. “You’ve taught it plenty of times. I trust you can teach it again.”

“I also don’t have a full-sized army yet which would be the intended rules I think. We have to at least assemble some and people find that really tedious..”

Death holds a combat patrol box in each hand. “We have plenty.”

“You don’t want to just.. I don’t know, use magic to create them?”

“It wouldn’t be real.”.

“Okaaay.. Painting is a lot though, I guess we can play with unpainted ones or just do a quick coat so they’re at least color coded..”

Death holds a bundle of paints. “I want to do it the way you do it. I want you to show me.”

I blink. “Okay. I guess the first part is choosing an army.”

“These Aeldari, you said they created life?”

“Well- uh I mean that’s not exactly how I would describe it but sure. I figured you would want to play Khorne, he’s the Blood God of Rage an-”

“I want to play the Aeldari.”

I start to feel a flutter in my chest. Is that even possible if you’re dead? I bend down and start sorting out the boxes. I find Death beside me, doing the same. A few minutes later we’re at my desk. The file and snippers are neatly arranged by the bottle of plastic glue. We each sit down after grabbing our first box.

I look over at Death as it runs its bony hand over the back of its box. I can only imagine it’s admiring the variations of paint jobs.

“Those are color schemes that match up with different sub-factions. For the Aeldari it’s different Craftworlds, which are like giant ships they live on. It’s kinda hard to explain because it’s different for every faction. If you want I can grab their codex and we can get into some lore.. But that would probably take up a lot of time..”

“That’s okay. We have plenty of time.”

I smile and rush off to grab it.

"Ok, so now we need to talk about proper consolidation movement and three-point model wrapping," Joshua said to Death.

"When do we actually get to play the game?" Death asked, closely inspecting one of Joshua's precious Iron Warriors. Josh chose to believe Death was admiring his paint job.

"After we learn to play it correctly. I'm a tournament player, so Im not going to teach you wrong on purpose. This shit is serious," said Joshua. He still couldnt stop shaking, but his devotion to the game gave him a focus that saw past the pallor of death that hung around him like a gossamer mist.

"When do I get to pick an army? Is there one best suited for me?" Death asked. He placed down the Iron Warrior and looked at the shelves of miniatures. The shelves and shelves and shelves of miniatures.

"After you learn the rules! Then you can review all of the armies, then we can play a few practice games with some armies you like the look of, then we can play for real...for my soul," said Joshua. The shakes peaked again.

"I am a master strategist," said Death, waving a dismissive hand at the shelves, "choose an army you believe will suite me, and I shall play it."

Joshua, without hesitation, took a box of dusty black space marines from the shelf. "Deathwatch," he said, dropping the box in front of Death.

"An apt choice. They shall be my army in the war for your soul," said Death.

"Good to know!" Said Joshua. He picked up his Hammerhead heavy Tau army case. He was no longer shaking. He was no longer even nervous. This was going to be ugly.

The setting is a quiet suburban town where an ordinary high school student named Yuji has an unusual hobby of collecting Warhammer 40k miniatures. He spends most of his time painting and customizing his figures, and has earned a reputation as the best miniature painter in the area. One day, Yuji receives a strange visitor in his bedroom, and is shocked to find that it is none other than Death himself.

"Yuji, I'm tired of playing chess," Death moans. "Everyone always challenges me, and I always win in the end. I want to mix things up a bit this time." He points to the shelves filled with Yuji's meticulously crafted miniatures. "Let's play a game with these."

Yuji is hesitant at first, but Death offers him a deal. If Yuji wins, he will be granted a wish of his choice. If he loses, Death will take his soul. Yuji accepts the challenge and they begin the game.

As they play, Yuji realizes that this is no ordinary game. The miniatures on the board come to life, and he is suddenly immersed in a bloody and violent battle. The stakes are high, and Death proves to be a formidable opponent, unleashing powerful and deadly moves with ease.

Despite the odds against him, Yuji manages to hold his own, using his strategic mind and clever tactics to turn the tide of the battle. With a final stroke of his brush, he makes a daring move that leaves Death reeling.

Death concedes the game, and Yuji is granted his wish. Overwhelmed by the experience, he wishes to be able to bring his miniatures to life and live in a world where they are real. The wish is granted, and Yuji is transported to a world where he is hailed as a hero, and his miniatures are his companions and fellow warriors.

As he stands among them, he realizes that he has found his true calling. He becomes a master of strategy and tactics, leading his army of miniatures to victory after victory. And with Death by his side as a loyal ally, Yuji knows that he can conquer any challenge that comes his way.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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