The fighting at Little Barringdon is far from over! This week’s Loremachine takes us back to the ruined Cygnaran town, where the Orgoth invasion has left a trail of destruction and the defenders are fighting to hold their ground. With the story returning for the Grand Narrative at Lock & Load US this weekend, there’s never been a better time to find out what’s at stake.

If you missed the action at Lock & Load EU, now’s your chance to save (or take) Little Barringdon. Our Grand Narrative event, custom-designed by Warmachine Loremaster Sherwin Matthews, brings the battle to life across a huge 20ft-long play area. Expect ruined buildings, sandbag defences and craters, with a train running straight through the middle of it all. Will you help the Cygnarans secure its escape, or join the Orgoth in making sure it never gets out?

All you need to take part is a 50-point Warmachine army. But before the dice start rolling, there’s a story to tell. Little Barringdon is just one small market town caught in the path of the Orgoth invasion, but the battle taking place on its streets is part of a much larger conflict. What happens here could have consequences far beyond its ruined walls…

Excerpt from The Fall of Little Barringdon

The train shook suddenly as it passed over a piece of uneven track, violently jolting the flatcar and the soldiers sitting atop it. A couple of them cursed, and made a pantomime of rubbing their arses. At the back the youngest member of the unit, a particularly green rookie named Hobbs, awoke and starred about in bleary-eyed confusion for a moment, earning a good-natured chuckle from the assembled soldiers.

“So, what’s so important about this tiny hamlet, anyways? Not like the reds don’t have better things to worry about than marching around in the Gnarls.” Smith’s voice was unmistakable. Gruff and coarse, each word was stained with tar as his jaw worked at the chewing tobacco in his mouth. He managed a hacking cough at the end rather than punctuation, crudely spitting it over the side along with a lump of the foul substance.

If there was ever a dissenting voice raised, Ratcliffe knew, it would belong to Smith. A long time career soldier, first in the Long Gunners, and then the Trencher Corps, Smith had long since given up on both pleasantries and caring for what anyone else thought of him. It was a trait that hadn’t served him particularly well. He’d been passed up for any sort of promotion, and posted out on the fringes of just about every war he’d been in, far from where the fighting needed dedicated and disciplined men and women, and not a gutter-mouthed bully.

Actually, Ratcliffe reflected, perhaps it had served Smith very well after all.

“This supply hub is called Little Barringdon—and it’s not Khadoran troops that our orders are concerned with. Plenty more dangers around the Gnarls, and the brass wants us to ensure that the town is secure.”

Smith snorted. “Still haven’t told me what makes this place so special.”

“It’s one of the only settlements out this far that has rail going to it, and without that, we’d be forced to walk to Ceryl and Fort Balton.” Ratcliffe raised an eyebrow. “Unless of course, you’d like blisters on your feet and having to requisition new socks because the old ones are worn down to threads. We’re to resupply and relieve the garrisons up there, while the officers get a status report.”

“And then?”

“And then, private,” Ratcliffe leant into the final word, hoping it might reintroduce the chain of command back into the conversation. “We get told whether we’re staying put or moving out again.”

Smith shock his head. “Waste of bloody time. Still, beats facing down the Orgoth. I’ve heard they’re worse than the Infernals and skorne put together. I heard they even eat the flesh of the dead.” He leant over the edge of the car again and spat out another mouthful of tobacco juice.

Ready to join the fight?

Want to get a head start before the battle begins? You can read the full story of The Fall of Little Barringdon and discover what brought the fighting to the town.