Teen-beard continues to try and block, so my friend goes up and warns him that he’s going to get DQ’d if he keeps this up. Teen-beard pouts and removes his hands. 40k Vet has good dice, he rolls to hit, and then rolls to wound. Maximum Damage. The Farseer and other targeted units are obliterated.
Teen-beard just emits a shrieking growl of “UURRRRRRRRRRRRRR” and starts shaking the table, tears starting to flow. My friend finally tells Teen-beard that’s he done, to pack his stuff and leave.
Teen-beard: “Fuck this stupid tournament! You’re all a bunch of cunts!”
40k Vet: “Peace out, neckbeard.”
Teen-beard then smacks one of the gunships, which hits another and sends it off the table, causing it to shatter. 40k Vet looks like his about to strangle the kid.
My friend: “Call your mom.”
My friend: “Either you call your mom, or I call the police.”
Teen-beard goes pale and takes out his phone. After he dials, my friend demands that he speak to her, before Teen-beard can spin the story. After Teen-beard refuses, my friend again threatens to involve the police. He then gets the phone and tells Teen-beard’s mom about his son’s tantrum, while Teen-beard just stares at the floor.
Half an hour later Teen-beard’s mother shows up, and literally grabs him by the collar of his sweat stained shirt, pulling him towards the exit.
Teen-beard: “Wait! Mom, my models!”
Mom: “I don’t care.”
Teen-beard: “My models!”
Mom: “You are DONE with your models.”
Teen-beard: “I want my Warhamm-“
Mom: “I said you’re DONE.” She then yanks him again and Teen-beard follows her, crying. As soon as they are out the door, random players start cheering. 40k vet ended up getting second place, and everyone threw in some money to help cover the cost of a new gunship (two people even offered to paint it). Two people were interested in starting Eldar as a second faction, so they split Teen-beard’s army between themselves.