Recently Rivet Wars has been and is running as a Kick Starter Project at
Here's a little Rivet Wars short story inspired by the Rivet World:
THE TRENCH RAIDER by Carsten Schwartz
Excited Herbert Von Schleichkärl jumped into the enemy trench under cover of the creeping morning fog. Sweat running down his back and the moistness of his adrenalin forced body threatening to disable his vision through the glass of the gasmask. This must be finished fast. Soon my gasmask must be removed to be able to see properly, he reflected, as dew slowly appeared on the inside of the glass of the mask. No problem I'll just sit here in the trench and clean my mask, before I continue. The raider silently passed a corner with an abandoned dugout, surveying the surrounding area, he found it to be a safe spot for the task at hand. After a couple of minutes the he carefully snuck on.
This was for real! He thought excited. Only a few months ago he had been awarded as the best raider trainee in years at the academy, Von Hindenburg himself had personally attended and pressed his hand at the finishing ceremony. After a few quite boring skirmishes he had been selected for this mission to gather intelligence behind the allied lines. After several minutes of hide and sneak he reached a larger bunker complex. Huge concrete walls filled the silent foggy morning landscape. What was that! He could vaguely perceive excited voices nearby. Carefully approaching the bunker he noticed a rusty venting grate. After careful inspection the raider deemed it safe to approach the grate in the damp concrete wall, silently the Herbert slipped though the sandbag and the barbed wire surrounding the small concrete fortress.
"I just got news late last night that a squad of 20 M3's will arrive in a couple of hours to lead the attack this morning", Colonel Brickton smiled as he brought the good news to his staff. Faces all smiling with enthusiasm looked back at him. The colonel paced the main staff room with an inner peace not to betray his joy of this news. The General had come through with his demands after all! He had tried to convince him of the need for a tactical advantage on this section of the front for weeks and here it was. He checked the small opening in the concrete wall to survey the muddy grey terrain covered in the morning fog, was somebody moving out there? Probably the morning patrol, that went along its business this hour.
That was to close for comfort, only moments ago an middle aged face with cunning and experienced eyes had appeared in one of the narrow window slits of the bunker near the vent grate. But no dogs barked and no alarms sounded, the raider considered his options. The M3's where a dangerous move and would surely be a set back if the attack started without a warning. He had to get back faster than a monowheel from hell. Cautiously he slipped of and disappeared into the all engulfing fog.
‘Mad’ Fred Larson strode confident forward guiding his patrol forward as he and his men performed their morning duty in the front line. Fred had recently been appointed leader of the morning patrol and looked forward to carry out his duty in a spotless manner. Somebody must have fallen ahead in the front line trench Fred though as he tugged the leash of patrol mascot Spunk to move him along. Spunk was a marvelous animal wide and muscular the bull dog had helped them out in several pressed situations, the enemy often never expected a wild muscular dog to be an option in combat, and their surprise often cost them dearly. The muscle driven animal appeared to be nervous, something out the ordinary must have caught its attention, Fred thought. The Patrol leader gave the sign of silence to his fellow soldiers and the patrol moved cautiously forward as Spunk started barking uncontrollably.
Just a piece of bad luck, that's all he reflected. It had been almost too easy to move back to the front line of the allied forces, and now the fog had started to disperse endangering his mission. My gas mask is dryer and I can see clearer, it's just a change of conditions that's all. The raider jumped into the front trench and rushed silently towards the point nearest to the Blight lines. But what was that, a patrol and a dog barking. Quick and silently the raider pulled out his newly acquired gas grenade and lopped it at the approaching patrol. A hiss, a bang and the patrol was down coughing their lungs up. Serves them right the allied scum! He thought. Von Schleichkärl slipped overjoyed through the dying allied soldiers, now the road was clear.
It’s strange what Spunk has got scent of in that in that wrinkled face of Fred reflected as the dog started barking more intensely, its eyes two angry lantern behind the glasses of its special design gas mask. As the patrol rounded a corner near a fresh dugout, Fred thought he could hear a vague hissing sound ahead of them, the squad leader started readying his gas mask. The hissing got louder as a hand grenade flew out of the morning fog and exploded amongst the men. But this was no ordinary grenade, white smoke surrounded the squad, and they started screaming and coughing. Fred felt the light disappear in his own private world and his legs go below him as he managed to get the mask on in the cloud of poisonous gas.
Spunk didn't like the loud noise and that his masters had been put down, the bull dog was angry and saliva was dripping out from the gas mask. Pure instinct made the dog jump into the shadow where the hissing sound had first originated. Even through the gas mask the dog's preprogrammed smell of the enemy suddenly became much stronger and its claws stroke home on soft tissue. “The evil that hurt my masters!” was the only message in Spunks ferocious brain as he clawed wildly and swung his spike clad tail at the intruder.
Where did that come from the raider thought as a large, white muscular dog with a gas mask and a vicious spike clad tail, flew out of nowhere attacking the soft unguarded tissue of his left thigh. Quick as a flash he smacked the dog on top of its large muscular head with the butt of his pistol, as it went down the white bundle of violence lashed its spiked tail straight into the right thigh of the raider. With a muffled scream Von Schleichkärl jumped clear and quickly limped silently away from the disabled dog. Damn nobody had informed him of dogs that could survive gas attacks! Slowly but confident the raider nimbly limped towards friendly lines.
Hope some of the other guys have managed to get their masks on Fred thought as he slowly stood up and surveyed the damage, in the distant horizon a shadow with a spiked helmet disappeared into the fog over against the Blight front line. Somebody was in a hurry to get to the enemy lines and taking no chances.
It was a disaster, none of the blokes had even touched their mask they all lay dead with contorted faces that signaled horrible pain and death, blood mixed with white saliva running out of their noses, mouths and eyes. Spunk was whimpering nearby, but the white monstrous animal of a dog was slowly getting up and started barking insanely towards the Blight lines. This was no ordinary soldier who had attacked them this morning, he’d better report this to the section leader. Medic-Medic! He shouted as he moved away from the front line through the narrow communication trench.
I recommend pledging! - You get a great game and a ridiculous lot of minis for the $90 reward or even more for the $150 reward.
But I would also like to know if Dust Tactics can be compared to this?
WFRP v1v2 GM since 91' into writing, sketching, Ju-jitsu , modelling, castingpainting