The Trap 2025-11-05 #3

Fresh off their victory against the Cops, the Red Heads hooted and hollered all the way down to the local drinking hole to celebrate making their first mark on Dread Burrow. Hell, now that the squats had proven their mettle, they’d most likely attempt to follow through on their drunken assertions that the bar should be theirs after all.

But the abhumans were not the only eyes on this bar by a long shot. The Church of the Exalted Wyrm had anticipated a standoff, but the Red Heads’ decision to assault the mines and stop by the trading post first left the cult with more than enough time to prepare a carefully-laid ambush in the drinking hole.

When the squats arrived, something felt off; the bar should have been bursting with scummers looking to get their fix of ale or wild snake but it was almost empty save for a terrified-looking bartender and a certain loudmouthed Orlock ganger. By the time the danger dawned upon them, however, it was too late. The mutant enforcers of the Church emerged from the shadows and atop the walkways surrounding the bar with weapons drawn, eager to spill more than brew on the bar floors that day. But even caught off guard and surrounded, the Red Heads had one trick up their steel sleeves and Alrik Firebeard gave the order: cut the lights. At his word, his champion’s preparations paid off as the lumens in the area snapped off with a crackling report, casting the bar into near-night as the battle commenced.

A far cry from their protracted stalemate against the Cops, the Red Heads’ defense against the cult ambush was, at least for most of the fighters, a quick and savage affair. The aberrants of the Church wasted no time getting up close and personal with the squats in the shadows, reaping a bloody toll on their champions and taking severe injuries in turn. The Church’s sharpshooter, Garus Vehn, was keen to blast away at any targets which revealed themselves in the dark as Alrik Firebeard desperately fended off another aberrant, Shuulgu, and managed to fry it with his meltagun.

That powerful weapon was nearly turned on his own allies by the psychic manifestations of Nathri Malaak but for him slipping on a spilled drink and missing an otherwise certain shot. Fearful of his own power being turned again on his fellows, Alrik fled the bar as both gangs’ will to stay in the fight began to falter for various reasons. With the squats down to a single ganger, Nathri took his leave to plan for the upcoming battle with the Iron Angels, confident that his champion could finish the job with the help of one last well-cooked aberrant. 

But that last Red Head, Brazen Cragdelver, proved himself to be the very exemplar of squat stubbornness. Time and time again, Cragdelver stood from the slick, stained floors to take shots at the still-burning aberrant and the sniper perched high on the walkway before taking a long-las bolt and going down again. No matter how many times this cycle repeated, however, Cragdelver would stand again. Eventually, Garus became fed up with this lone squat in the shadows and took his own leave.

Unbeknownst to him, his final shot had managed to deal a serious injury to Cragdelver. But lo and behold, the squat grit his teeth and stood one last time while the aberrant finally succumbed to his burns and fell unconscious, granting the Red Heads the victory by the slimmest of margins. The bar would be named after the squat who refused to leave it while the Church rushed Shuulgu, critically wounded by Alrik’s meltagun, to a doc. Unfortunately for the cult, the medicae refused to treat such a mutant for any affordable price and they had no choice but to let the aberrant bleed to death.

This second early victory firmly set the Red Heads on a strong foundation for the rest of the gang war to follow, but the Church of the Exalted Wyrm took their tithe in blood from the squats. The lone squat served the first drink at Cragdelver’s Hole to the spectator Orlock who would have quite a tale to tell his fellow gangers upon his return.