Brotherhood of the Yellow King: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13: The Yellow King:

It was a  vast impenetrable darkness, unfathomable and unyielding. But in that void, a voice. Weak, faint. A whisper. A sigh.  

Caaaarn…..

Then silence, only all-encompassing  darkness once again. Until, so ethereal and insubstantial that it was as mist or a wisp of smoke…

Caaaarn…. Alistaaaeeee….

The voice was dying, he could tell, the last utterances of a fragment of a soul irrevocably sundered. Of a remnant drained. Carn himself felt insubstantial, he had no feeling, his body was absent. He had no sense of physicality, only the insistent fading echoes of that voice.

If he had eyes he could not open them. If he had a mouth he knew not how to use it to speak. He did not hear the words as much as feel them. He had no sense of time, no grounding. In this vacuum of reality the voice eventually spoke one final time.

This… is the end my…. friend…..

As Larkarsky’s voice faded reality reasserted itself. Not with a rush but with a slow increase, marked mainly by pain. Lots of pain. Carn quickly decided that he had preferred no feeling at all as now he was in burning agony. He tried to move but was utterly immobile, his body broken, shattered and wracked with pain. His eyes didn’t hurt so he opened them. It made no difference. Everything was black, he could not see a thing and had no idea if he was blind or if it was just THAT dark. But however dark it was it was not silent. He heard shuffling, grunting, breathing and a soft hissing. It was getting closer, inexorably drawing nearer and coming from all around.  Carn couldn’t even turn his head, couldn’t even lift an arm. His breathing was ragged and wet, his scalp was sticky and as his senses returned there was a strong smell of copper mingled with the chemical tang of ore and mineral. His legs were crushed, covered with rock, stone and chunks of ore, he could not feel them but was aware of the weight of the rock pinning him to the floor. There was a sharp pain in his hand, though it took him a while to isolate it from the general agonies he was experiencing.

Yes, there was something in his fist, dug deep into his palm, slick with blood. It was sharp, angular. He knew it’s shape, it’s weight, the way it felt. He wept.

The sound was getting closer. Shuffling, snorting, the scraping of claws on stone. Grunting became audible with accompanying hissed instructions. There were no lights. Whatever these things were they were able to see at least a little in absolute darkness. Heavy objects were lifted, inspected and dropped. They fell with a dull thud, Carn realised they were bodies, they were looking for him.

And there was nothing he could do, he could only lie there, utterly helpless. He awaited the inevitable, it was intolerable, staring into the inky blackness (though he thought now that he could pick out some semblance of form above him) unable to act, move. More thuds, more grunts and shuffling, getting closer, ever closer. Soon the noises were right next to him, he could hear breathing and soft snarling, it was coming from his right, though there was sound still all around. Then, a boot beside his head. A triumphant hiss. A claw reached down and grasped the front of his stolen mining suit. It pulled and Carn fought back a scream as his body was strained. A grunt from his molester plus a hiss slightly further away and then he could feel rocks being moved away from his lower body. Another hiss and again he felt himself being pulled. The remaining loose rocks and stones tumbled away as he was dragged away and up. It was still dark but he could just about see a shape in front of him. Every nerve in his body screamed, no that wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel below his waist. That wasn’t good. The creature that had hoisted him up grunted in satisfaction and without warning and in one swift smooth motion tossed Carn over his shoulder. Now Carn did scream, just for a  split second before he passed into blissful and peaceful unconsciousness. 

He knew not how long it was before he finally came round but he was being dragged roughly across a stone floor which passed beneath him as he opened his eyes. He was being gripped by the shoulders, which screamed in pain the moment he came to, along with the rest of his tortured body. There was a cultist either size of him, he managed to turn his head slightly, though it was agony to do so, to behold his captor. It was not as hulking or bestial as some but far from human, featuring chitinous plate on its arm and clawed hands. It’s head was bowed and the creatures gaze downcast. It looked reverent, almost fearful. Amidst the various pains shooting through his body Carn began to feel a deep dread as he noticed many other similarly bowed heads around. There were hundreds, many hundreds of cultists all around him and all had their heads bowed, arms, be it two or three, crossed in front of their chests.

Inch by agonising inch Carn raised his head to see his destination, his nerves screamed their protestations but he had to know.  His vision was still slightly blurred but ahead he could make something large out. Large and yellow, actually many yellow things. As he was dragged closer the objects came into sharp and terrifying focus one at a time, each more horrifying than the last. Ganvan Seris was there, looking quite recovered. He was flanked by two large broad shouldered cultists. further the Magus’ right were actual monsters, bipedal let utterly alien, some had enlarged claws or extra arms, come carried strange looking weapons, some had tentacles for arms, some even had a tentacle mouth, yet for that they stood upright and were of humanoid proportion, It was an amalgamation most foul and repellent . Carn felt bile rise in his throat as he beheld the repulsive creatures. As he got ever closer Carn could see that Ganvan Seris was smiling evilly. The sight repulsed and petrified him even more than the alien creatures had. To the Magus’s left was a space,. A noticeable space that unnerved Carn greatly for it was obviously deliberate. Beyond the gap in the menagerie of horrors was another singular figure, more ostentatiously garbed, though he still wore the mining suit, clearly he was some kind of leader or more important member of the cult. Next to him were a variety of cultists, generally of the more mutated form.

And yet, for all the gallery of inhuman horrors about and before him it was the space that horrified Carn the most. It was foreboding and ominous. Beyond it yawned darkness, a recess that Carn could not judge the depth of. It seemed as a yawning pit threatening to swallow Carn whole.  As his terror began to rise there was a noise, a rumbling and scraping. Something started to emerged from the darkness. Carn was roughly shoved to his knees. He was thankful beyond measure that his legs erupted with pain as he hit the floor. The scraping grew louder and closer. A giant obsidian throne started to emerge from the darkness, and in that throne…..

The sight unmanned Carn entirely, he began to gibber uncontrollably and then laugh the laugh of a mind frayed and hysterical. One of the cultists backhanded him, snapping him back to lucidity and he stared in wide eyed terror at the Yellow King.

It was monstrous, a gargantuan creature in yellow chitin and purple flesh, it leaned forward in its throne, resting its chin on one clawed hand in a monstrous parody of The Ruminator, an ancient statue from the mists of Terra’s ancient past. Two other arms with slightly more human hands lent on the baroque carved arms of the throne and a fourth on the creature’s knee, brutal looking claws flexing. It’s cranium was swollen and enlarged and a prominent bony crest rose from it’s forehead. It’s eyes flashed green and simmered with a sinister alien intelligence. The creature looked monstrously strong, sinews and muscle rippled beneath its chitinous armour. A tail looped down in front of the throne where it crouched, a wicked looking spine at its tip. The monster regarded its captive coldly and Carn felt tendrils of thought penetrate his mind. He shuddered, fresh agonies roaring through his frame from the movement. He looked about him desperately. All around him the cultists were now staring at their Yellow King, their faces rapt. But it wasn’t fear or any kind of obeisance that Carn observed. It was devotion, pure unfiltered love. A reverence and adoration never more true. It was the love a child shows for a father. With a chill Carn realised that this was indeed the case, the creature WAS their father, their patriarch. The patriarch for the entire cult and they loved it unconditionally and would die to protect it, every single one of them, without hesitation. THIS monstrous alien was the nexus, the core, the very  heart of the entire cult.

The Patriarch leaned back, it’s cursory inspection of Carn over. It raised its four yellow arms to the sky and barked out a series of guttural syllables. The congregation bayed its approval. Their Yellow King lowered its arms and the noise abated, it extended one taloned claw and beckoned for Carn to be bought closer. His guards gripped him by the arms and dragged him on his knees in front of the throne. Carn knelt there, utterly subdued and pliant. The guards stepped back and the Patriarch reached forward and scooped Carn up in its grasp. Its claws closed around Carn’s torso and his shattered ribs ground together making him roar in pain as he was lifted bodily into the air. It hoisted him up and held him in front of its face, as if inspecting some morsel. Carn knew this was without a doubt the end and that his life was about to finish and he was going to journey to the Emperor’s side. But he wasn’t dying without one last gesture of defiance. He spat bloodily into the Yellow King’s face, crimson expectorate spraying across it’s snout. The Patriarch recoiled slightly and then started convulsing, making strange snorting soft bellows. It took Carn a second to realise that it was laughing. It stopped abruptly and stared at Carn with primitive belligerence, a pointed tongue snaked out and licked the bloody spittle from its face. The Yellow King grinned evilly, malice glittering in its alien eyes. It pulled the helpless Prefect forward and Carn closed his eyes and gripped the Aquila charm tightly as the Patriarch opened its fanged maw wide. At long last, after struggles and trials immeasurable, Alistae Carn finally knew peace.

*****************************************************

The investigation team was only three days out. That was all Ralscon could think of as  he idly dismissed another alert from the outermost relay station. There was still a lot to do, things to hide, trails to remove, blame to shift. He'd tried to lessen his use of Emperor's Caress in order to improve his productivity but not using the narcotic for prolonged periods resulted in significant pain. No, it was much better to continue using it and escape the pain and reality. Problem was that it was unlikely that the imperial agents heading his way would feel the same. Therefore it was essential that some semblance of normality was presented. He'd already deleted some incriminating records, and files that seemed unimportant to him but had pleased the tentacles to eradicate. 

Now with the team only days away he had decided that the pace needed to step up. He barked orders at his subordinates, directing them to various tasks. Even as they scurried off to enact his instructions he palmed another pill and swallowed it, feeling the tentacles presence increase straight away. The bliss enveloped him and he sat back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Everything would be ok, he would ensure it. The investigation team would arrive, carry out their probing and leave.  He would kill them, he reflected, but he had not the means to do so. Besides, it would result only in more arriving. No, let them come, poke about, he would make sure they left empty handed. None the wiser, nothing would happen. . 

He was cresting a wave of ecstasy when a light started to flash on the console in front of him. He was about to dismiss it as per usual when a twinge in his temple told him that he should answer. He moved his finger over to the receive rune and duly depressed it.  A brief screen appeared showing that the message was coming from Endomaw and then faded as the screen transitioned to video. 

A tall man appeared, garbed in a yellow robe. He had some kind of contusion to his head and carried an ornate staff topped with a four armed figure. For reasons that he could not explain Ralscon felt very comforted by the figurehead. 

"Supervisor Ralscon, forgive my interruption of your important work but there is something that you need to know" Ganvan Seris spoke smoothly and smiled with warmth.  "There has been a development, somewhat surprising but far from unwelcome. We would have contacted you earlier but we wanted to wait until, well, you will see in a moment." He unfurled his free hand, splaying the fingers. "i cannot deny that we have had a few problems here at Endomaw mine, things have not been going.... smoothly. However, I am pleased to report that all is well now and that we expect to be back at full production quotas soon" He beamed. "Now there is someone else who wishes to speak to you." He stepped to one side and off screen. 

Ralscon's jaw dropped,. Agape, he stared at the figure on the screen that had been behind the man in yellow. He was severely injured, that was plain but he too was smiling serenely. Even with the bandages and scorched skin there was no denying it. It was Alistae Carn. The Prefect raised a hand in acknowledgement. 

"Ralscon, damn you but by the Emperor it is good to see you", Carn spoke slowly, hesitantly, in an unfocused manner. If Ralscon hadn't known better he would have thought that Carn was under the influence of Emperor's Caress. He decided that it was much more likely to be painkillers, Carn looked like hell, no doubt he was hurting considerably. 

"Carn", he replied, "You're meant to be dead, the accident....They said..."

"I was lucky, survived the crash, I was in a bad way though, managed to crawl from the wreckage and they found me in the ash wastes." Ralscon nodded dumbly. "They've been fixing me up for the last week. I still feel like hell mind you," he admitted wincing, rubbing the back of his neck. It's been interesting to say the least. While I've been here I've been doing some investigation of my own. About Larkarsky," As he said the Adept's name his expression darkened and from his sleeve he produced a small charm, it glinted in the light and he toyed with it as he continued "It turns out that he had been poisoned, exposed to a hallucinogen from gas that is a byproduct of the mining process. The miners here are unaffected, long term exposure over time I suppose has built up a resistance. Larkarsky had no such luck. Significant levels of exposure straight away unbalanced him, sent him crazy. Poor bastard. They didn't realise till it was too late." He continued to twist the charm as he spoke.  The light flashed off it intermittently. It was irritating to Ralscon but a small matter compared to the disorientation that he was feeling. He put it down equally to the effects of the Emperors Caress and the revelations of the last few minutes. He started to gather his thoughts. 

"Well it's good to see you Carn" he said, an insincere smile on his face. "You know, there's an investigation team on the way here now to look into the accident, now you can tell them direct that there is no need for concern. When can you get back here?" This was perfect, maybe he could even turn the team around. Ralscon felt the tentacles smooth his worries away. everything was going to work out fine. 

"'I'm going to be staying here for a while", Carn said, dashing his hopes "I'm still weak and not really in any fit state to travel. Besides, I still need to compile the report that Larkarsky should have made. Regulations must be followed after all." 

"Maybe I can send them to you", Ralscon said, though as he did so he got the feeling that the tentacles would rater he didn't. He was starting to get a headache, that was usually a bad sign. 

"No! " Carn exclaimed. "it's alright they are just going to get in the way", he smiled beatifically. "Great things are going on here at Endomaw, you have no idea, really. It's going to change things on Worth, perhaps the entire Celias system. It will be truly glorious. Show them a recording of this message, that will have to suffice. I'll be here another couple of weeks I suspect and then I shall return". His demeanour became serious. "I'll have some cargo with me that i'm bringing back to Narthley, samples in large containers.  It is imperative that they not be disturbed. If all goes well the whole system will soon be aware. This could really be the chance to put Worth on the map Ralscon and if we are smart we can all share in the glory." 

Glory sounded good to Ralscon, very good indeed. "Well it's about time you did something useful rather than being a pain in my arse" he retorted. I'll look forward to your full report. I'll hold the investigation team off here, no fear. It's just a matter of protocol i'm sure. Once they see you are alive and well they will be satisfied. The sooner they are out of the way the sooner we can get back to normal and make preparations for your arrival. It sounds like there is nothing untoward at the mine so i'm sure i can just show them the operation here and get rid of them. Everything is going to be fine. As you say, great things are coming." 

Carn smiled, his manner was still somewhat languid, slowed, "Yes", he said, still absentmindedly spinning the small Aquilla charm in his fingers. "Everything is going to be exactly as it should be, you have no idea of the magnificence that awaits us, no idea at all" 

The Brotherhood of the Yellow King: Chapter Twelve.

12: One final hope.

A loud shrill bought Ralscon out of his high. Irritably he fumbled for the acknowledgement rune to stop the alert. Realising too late that it was a vid-call. The screen snapped into life and Ralscon sighed with relief when he saw that it was just one of his subordinates and not anybody of real import. Ralscon knew that he looked a state, he had been using the Emperor' Caress a little too much recently, blaming the stress of the incoming inspection crew. Dirty, bleary eyed, with dilated pupils (and losing weight rapidly, though he had plenty to lose) he was starting to resemble the wretches that skulked in the dank dark holes of Narthley, the very dregs of society. His work was suffering too, urgent communiques and updates lay unattended, important missives and instructions disregarded.

Still, he wasn’t alone, Emperor's Caress usage was becoming more and more prevalent, he knew that many of his own staff indulged for a fact. Indeed, it seemed most of Narthley was using the narcotic, productivity was grinding to a halt and there were rumours that even the Arbites, the very hall of Imperator Lex Lawgivers was riddled with the drug. The end product was that Narthley was mostly very content and pliant but not very productive or effective. Worth was effectively paralysed, Narthley being the biggest recognised city on the planet by far. Given Adept Larkarsky’s reports however, in the past few years Endomaw City had outperformed it and indeed surpassed it in size and capability. That it had done so unnoticed would have surely given Ralscon pause for thought, had he been capable of rational thought. At the moment his drug addled brain was barely capable of remembering his name, let alone the name of the person on the screen in front of him.

"Yes?", he slurred, more than one syllable at a time beyond him at the moment. "What is it?" He blinked slowly, twice. It made no difference, his higher brain functions were wrapped in yellow silken tentacles, piercing his cerebellum, probing his knowledge, his memories, though he was blissfully unaware of it. The same was happening all over, the narcotic was establishing a network all over and at the heart of that network someone was getting a lot of information.

The dark face on the screen frowned slightly, she was not a user, not one of them. Ralscon felt an instant dislike of her. She would need to experience the Emperor's Caress she would be made one with them all.

"Sir", she said, using the honorific almost as an insult, with dripping sarcasm and veiled distaste. "I thought you should know that we have detected a surge of activity in Endomaw. There appears to be a mass mobilisation of infantry and armour, it looks like an army… what action would you have us take?, We should report this, shall I take care of it?"

Ralscon frowned, this was an irritation, an unwelcome complication. He knew he should take action but the very thought made the tentacles squeeze on his brain unpleasantly. He didn’t like that, no not at all.

"Well, he began hesitantly, have you asked them what they are doing?" He affected an imposing bearing though his head was still clouded and his mind enshrouded, "It could be any...," his mind struggled as extra syllables were needed "...thing", he finished lamely, rather damaging the image of authority he was trying to portray. 

It hardly seemed possible but the look of disdain on the screen increased still further, "We have requested an explanation from the Governor there and he has said that it is simply drills, exercises for their defence force, but there are a LOT of them sir. Perhaps I should contact someone else if you are BUSY", the tone in the final word was positively vitriolic. 

The tentacles squeezed, "NO!" he strove to re-establish some control. "Note it in the log and mark it as handled,. I will take care of it personally and follow up the entry." The tentacles massaged his brain increasing his mental capacity just enough. As far as Ralscon was concerned though it was just the end of his high, coming back down to Worth with a sickening sense of inevitability. "That will be all," he added, his eyes focusing on the screen once more. He tried to project authority into his tone, brooking no argument.

The face looked less than convinced but ceded nonetheless. "As you will it sir. The Emperor Protects." Without another word she signed off and Ralscon was gratified to see the entry marked a moment later,. The tentacles seemed pleased and serotonin levels increased, barely perceptible to Ralscon. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the small packet, only a couple of pills remained, thankfully he had many stashed away, having established a barter and favour system in exchange for a regular supply. A request filed here, an alert lost there, a requisition order rerouted, simple and easy things when measured against that wonderful euphoria that the Emperor's Caress bought. He would do anything to continue to feel like that, no matter the consequences. 

**************

Carn was feeling far from euphoric, he was strung out and weary and nervous. The stimms had long since worn off and his injuries were becoming burdensome. Thankfully, none of this was immediately obvious apart from a pronounced limp that he tried to disguise with a shuffling gait. He exchanged nothing more than brief nods and grunts with the other cultists as he passed and only his stolen mining suit kept him from detection.

At the end of the chute he had come to an opening where carts suspended on cables emptied onto the chute before turning round and returning empty across the chasms ahead. He had had the good fortune to discover here, a small locker containing a worn but serviceable mining suit the same as worn by the other miners/cultists. Donning the apparel he had done his best to make himself look as much like his pursuers as possible, he had one chance and it meant being in their midst. Thankfully his scorched scalp was now hairless, his hair burnt off in the explosion in the tunnels. His face was filthy and streaked with blood sweat and dirt and a pair of mining goggles and a rebreather obscured enough of his face that at first glance he passed for one of the Brotherhood. Thus attired he had climbed into one of the emptied carts and waited till he was carried to the other side of the large chamber. Once safely across he had disembarked and attained his bearings. His memory of Larkarsky’s detailed map of this part of Endomaw had told him that he needed to go up, indeed he could see the shaft from which the elevator had descended. He had started his ascent. Acutely aware of the danger around him and that he was conspicuously unarmed.

Now he neared his destination. He had navigated the tunnels as best as he could, making only one wrong turn, and now he was back in the complex proper. He needed to find a transmission terminal, a way of getting the message out. Carn knew he wouldn’t be able to escape, that he would die here in Endomaw, and his soul was at peace with that. To die doing the Emperor’s work was all that a loyal servant of the Imperium could ask for after all and his was a holy task indeed. He followed the directions he had memorised from reviewing Larkarsky’s reports and made his way down the light grey corridors, cautiously pausing every now and then to make sure he was heading in the correct destination. Likely all other terminals would be locked out, but he was sure that Ganvan Seris would have a working transmitter, secured, yes but he could bypass security whereas the remote terminals he had encountered thus far were all dead. Lingering around them to try to reactivate the devices would be suspicious to the extreme, this was his only chance.

He kept his head down, giving brief nods to cultists he passed. One guard stopped him, thrusting his lasgun into his chest. The cultist hissed at him belligerently.

"Your weapon, where isss it?" a pointed tongue and sharp teeth betrayed what seemed to be an otherwise human face, though as Carn looked closer he saw faint ridges on the Cultist's forehead. indeed the being's pallor and features were more bestial and alien the longer they were observed.

"Jammed, broken" he replied, effecting a rasping hiss himself, though it was a little muffled through the respirator, "going for another" He stayed stooped, shadowed, his disguise would not bear close scrutiny. Carn tensed, ready to make a move, but with the lasgun pointed straight at his chest his chances of survival were infinitesimal.

The guard's eyes narrowed, "Weaponsss that way", he hissed, gesturing with his lasgun behind Carn, the barrel moved away from his chest just a fraction but it was enough. Carn moved without thinking, he twisted to the side, bringing his arm up to knock the rifle aside. But he was too slow, injury and weariness had dulled his reactions. Fire burned in his flesh as the lasgun blast took him in the shoulder. knocking him to the floor. Even as he was hit point blank he managed to knock the lasgun from his assailants grasp, sending it spinning away. He hit the floor hard, the air ripped from his lungs in a pained gasp. He had no chance to rise though before the cultist was upon him, grasping for his neck, tearing the respirator aside.

Carn desperately tried to throw the cultist off, calling upon his last vestiges of strength. He managed to roll to the side, landing a few weak blows on the cultist but his attacker swiftly regained the upper hand. Astride Carn, he smashed him in the face and then fastened his gnarled hands around the Prefect's throat and started to squeeze, snarling bestially as he choked the life from his enemy.

Carn felt his vision darken, he was so weak. So very tired. He scrabbled ineffectively at his foe, grasping at arms that felt like iron bars. He could not move them, this was it, this was the end. He had failed. Everything slowed, he calmed, his mind fogged. So tired. Time to sleep, time to die. Then reality froze, the moment stretched into eternity. Light beckoned.

Then he was free. He sat up gasping, shaking his head slowly in an attempt to clear the fog. Through a grey haze he saw the cultist on the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle and clearly broken. But how? His head hurt, he couldn't think. He felt impossibly weary but got to his feet nonetheless, impelled by a voice in the back of his mind. In a daze he staggered down the corridor, passing the fallen lasgun. It occurred to him to take the weapon but his body wouldn't respond. He stumbled on, his body somehow knowing where to go. His head was drooped, his eyes half closed. Events seemed to occur as if he was observing them, not performing them, a captive in his own body.

A hundred yards down the corridor he was confronted by five cultists. Without even thinking, he wearily stretched an arm out and the guards were flung aside into the wall with sickening wet impacts. they slid down the wall in chunks of bloody viscera, unidentifiable as humanoid forms. Carn continued to walk unsteadily but unerringly down the corridor, another few corners and another dispatched larger patrol and he was in front of his destination. His eyes were closed by this point but he could see the door regardless, in fact he could see more than the door, he could see eddies, swirls, everything was overexposed, highlighted, more than real life. The door crumpled in slow motion, the thick plasteel crinkling and creasing, before simply ceasing to exist. Carn strode through the open portal, though he didn't know it. Suddenly consciousness reasserted itself, painfully, with a loud 'pop'.

Carn sank to his knees. Blood streamed from his ears and nose. He shuddered, his body was wracked with convulsions and he remained there a moment on his hands and knees, dry heaving and shaking. Finally he regained some control and rose to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. He looked about him. He was in Ganvan Seris's office, this much he established. On one wall behind a large elegant desk was a comms terminal. He walked over to it, fishing the precious data crystal from it's pouch. His head was still fogged, his vision blurred but almost by instinct he prised open the data panel and inserted the crystal. He broke and made connections, moving more rapidly than he had ever thought possible. Security bypassed, the terminal sprang to life. His fingers danced across the keypad, depressing runes in a combination that broadcast on the widest frequency, he just had to transmit on a wide beam and hope that someone picked up the signal.

"This is second prefect Alistae Carn, personnel number one-four-five-alpha-kappa-iota-six-nine-beta- beta-nine. In the Emperor's name I am transmitting this signal to unearth the heresy and corruption at Endomaw mine. I will never leave this place but it must be cleansed. I am sending testimony from Adept First Class Pallas Larkarsky, it will support wha..... " he threw himself to one side, depressing the transmit rune as he did so. As he sprang away from the console a blast of etheric power hit it. The machine crackled for a second, the machine spirit within screaming as it was consumed by warp power, then it exploded. Shrapnel ripped into Carn but he barely felt it. He had no way of knowing if the signal had got out. His mind whirled, his actions were not his own. Once again he was just experiencing things from within.

Ganvan Seris strode through the ruin of the door frame, his staff outstretched, Psychic power crackling around the figurehead on top. The same violet fire burned in his eyes. Carn was suddenly frozen in place, even as he observed the event from inside his own body. He saw, rather than felt, his body pushed up against the wall next to the smoking terminal. Observed, rather than experienced, the hypnotising effect of Seris's gaze. He was powerless to act, but he wasn't the one acting. He saw his arms come up, tear through an invisible field. The force was suddenly gone, he saw himself hurl the yellow robed psyker to the side, though he sensed that his own manifestation of power was weakening. All of a sudden his reality was pierced, the bubble effect he had been experiencing ceasing with a roar of pressure and pain. He was back in control.

Carn staggered past, the Magus made a shaky grab for him as he went past but was still groggy from the pschyic blow he had suffered. he flailed impotently.

“The Yellow Kiiing” Ganvan Seris managed. “The Yellow King has a use for you… come back….”

Carn himself, the apparent dealer of that blow, was faring little better. Blood flowed freely from his facial orifices and there was a slackness to his expression that suggested something inside had snapped. Mentally Carn was a storm of emotions and thoughts as he struggled to reconcile recent events. He’d had no previous inclination that he was a Psyker. None of the mandatory testing had indicated anything! Then again the same had been for Larkarsky and he had proven himself psychically capable in the extreme, maybe the tests were insufficient. If not a Psyker then what else? Was he possessed? Could it be the Emperor acting through him? Carn wasn’t vain enough to think that he was important enough to be an instrument of the Emperor's Divine will in that way but he WAS on a holy task. No, surely not. What then?

He WAS acutely aware that he now had no power at all, stumbling along like an intoxicated vagrant his head clearing far too slowly. Carn nearly tripped over the splattered remains of the cultists that he, if indeed it had truly been him, had dispatched earlier on his way to the terminal. The message! Had it sent? He suspected not, at least not in it’s entirety, not the data packet anyway. His words may have been received but likely not Larkarsky’s full account, and there was no proof! Now there never would be. He was battered, exhausted, on the ragged edge of endurance. He had performed his task but now it was time to rest. No! Blazed a thought in his mind. Continue, endure! Bring the Emperor’s light to this nest of Serpents! He balked at the admonishment, starting to wonder if his own psyche was fracturing under the stress. Still, the voice in his mind spurred him on, one foot in front of the other, as quickly as stability would allow. There was but one chance of escape. The elevator up to the surface.

The floor squelched as Carn proceeded down the now dark (the lights had been snuffed out by the psychic forces released) corridor. He tried not to think too much about the visceral consistency underfoot. Thus far there was no sign of any resistance although he was sure that he heard shuffling not far behind him. Through a door and the ground underfoot turned to hard rock and dust. The voice spurred him on; onward, onward! To escape. To freedom. To the surface! To the Emperor's light! Eventually he emerged from the darkness of the tunnels into the merely gloomy mining chamber. A short slope awaited and at the top of that, salvation.

Carn was beyond limits of all endurance and fell at the foot of the slope, weary beyond measure.He began to crawl, to pull himself up inch by inch toward the elevator and escape. He had made it barely ten feet before he heard a sibilant yet mellifluous voice behind him. He turned back to look the way he had come, though he knew in his heart what he would behold.

“You, you shall not leave, the Yellow King demands it.”

Ganvan Seris was there, supported by a hulking brute of a cultist who made no pretence at humanity, rippling muscle and a massive frame were accompanied by gnarled taloned hands and chitinous plates jutted from ripped clothing and torn flesh. The creature's face was bestial yet an alien cunning showed though it's savage features. Carn saw more shadows behind moving and writing in the gloom. He tried to carry on up the slope, he only had a few dozen feet to go! He was so close! He could see the faded red frame of the elevator, the control panel, the cables leading up to the surface, the criss-cross of pulleys and carts in the air above, like a lattice of wires or a steel spiders web. So close! He continued to edge up backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on Ganvan.

The Magus looked weak, spent. A lurid bruise patterned most of his scalp and his eyes were unfocused. He stood only by virtue of the lumbering behemoth at his side. He lifted his head and fixed Carn with a faltering yet piercing gaze.

“You, you will serve the Brotherhood, you will serve the Yellow King. You have drawn too much attention to us. You endanger the brotherhood! The arrival of the Star Children! You DARE to disrupt our holy work?

Ganvan shook as he spoke, though from exertion or apoplectic rage Carn couldn’t be sure. He was continuing to surreptitiously creep up the slope. Under eight foot to the entrance of the elevator, he could make a run for it, he could…

Just as he went to turn and launch himself up the slope Ganvan held up a hand, Carn was transfixed. The Magus’s eyes burned with an unearthly luminescence, glowing brightly from their sockets.

"You. Shall. Not. Leave.." the flesh pulsed under his cranium and the bruise spread, vivid patches of sub dermal blood pooling beneath the skin. A violet substance flowed wetly from one nostril. "You. Shall. Serve. Us." Each word was spoken in a low monotonous hiss, it was pleasant though, compelling. Carn bought his arm up and flung it out in desperation, nothing happened. He tried to focus, to imagine hurling the Magus away. Nothing. He was frozen in place, immobile as a stalagmite.  The Magus continued; "To Resist is Futile. The Yellow King is Truth. The Yellow King is All…. "

Carn desperately tried to move, to turn and hurl himself up the slope into the elevator and escape, but it was no use. He was frozen, like prey before a predator. He couldn’t look away from that hypnotic gaze. The Magus stepped forward, still supported by his bodyguard. More grotesque figures followed, Some were beast like, others retained a semblance of humanity. all of them crouched and hissed, glaring with unbridled hate at the escaping Prefect. They spread protectively around Seris.

"The Yellow King is all..."

Yellow....Yellow.....Yellow.... YELLOW!!

With a ragged scream the voice broke through the Magus’s hold. Carn started as if slapped in the face. He was free. For a moment shock and surprise held him as much a prisoner as the Psychic power of the Magus had.

MOVE!!!

That one word, one impulse, spurred Carn into action. He knew, knew now who was inside his head, where the psychic assaults had come from. Even as he knew it was only a shadow, a remnant, an impression rather than a full presence. Larkarsky had managed to impart a piece of himself and his power in Carn’s psyche and was aiding him even as the imprint faded. Carn knew not how or when, he was only immeasurably grateful. Tears streamed down his face as he threw himself up the slope and into the steel cage of the elevator. He slammed a hand on the activation rune and breathlessly stood at the rear of the conveyance as the railing slid down and it started to ascend. He saw well the expression of shock and outrage on the face of the Magus and the bestial screams on the cultists as they hurtled up the slope after him. some launched themselves at the elevator as it rose and clung to the bottom, he could see them through the grille in the floor. They started to climb, clawing their way round to the side of the elevator. Others were clambering up the walls, extra limbs aiding their locomotion. Joining them, streaming from subterranean tunnels as the elevator passed, were forms totally devoid of any human form at all, six limbed and all teeth and claws. They scuttled across vertical rock frighteningly fast, swiftly outpacing their brethren as they headed for the small opening in the rock above. 

Others were hurling themselves from the caverns walls in an attempt to reach the elevator, most failed and yet uttered not a sound as the fell into the inky oblivion below. A scant few made the leap and impacted on the roof or sides of the elevator, making it rock violently. 

I'm sorry Alistae, I tried, but i'm so tired, fading, not much left... i'm sorry

Carn couldn't describe the way the message was imparted, it was less than words, more than a feeling. Thought, distinct and coherent, straight into his mind, into his being, into his soul. 

"We're not done yet" he growled, pulling Emperor's Fury from his belt and blasting the nearest cultist from the elevator with a pair of precision shots. "While I live I fight!" He roared, firing another burst of shots at other figures creeping round the steel cage. Sparks flew and the figures fell from the cage, tumbling away into the fathomless depths. "For the Emperor!" he screamed, again and again, firing until the clip was exhausted. Even then he used the pistol as a cudgel, smashing interlopers off the elevator's frame as they got too close. Clawed hands grasped for him through gaps in the walls, scrabbling for purchase as he desperately evaded them, dealing them blows even as he was overwhelmed. One of the cultists threw itself at the mechanism in an effort to stop the ascent. It died silently as it's body snarled and jammed the mechanism with gore and flesh. The elevator shuddered to a halt. Carn was trapped. 

Alistae Carn knew this was the end. The end of his journey of his path. He was tired. He backed up against the front of the elevator which swung gently as more bodies landed on it. Despite the situation he was calm, at peace. Part of this was due to exhaustion but he genuinely felt at ease even as more cultists and their accompanying creatures ripped their way into the stalled elevator. He swung one leg over the railing, noting with a strange delirium that this was the same railing that Larkarsky had felt he was going to be thrown from so long ago.

"I spit on your Yellow King" he said simply and toppled back over the edge. 

As he fell he felt claws grasp at him, but they were too late. Then one talon hooked over the charm round his wrist, for one split second the chain strained, and then it broke. Horrified, Carn made a desperate grab for the golden Aquilla as he fell into the eternal depths. 

Conclave of Har Game Review. Adeptus Titanicus

The wait for Adeptus Titanicus has seemed as long as a Warlord Titan is tall (36.7 m in case you were wondering). Of course ever since it was first announced it has had a number of delays. First the scale change, making the models 25% bigger than their Epic 40k counterparts and then the entirely sensible move to change the medium to plastic rather than solely resin. This was a pretty good move as Adeptus Titanicus is pretty expensive as it is and Resin prices may have made the entire thing nonviable I suspect GW realised this and that is why everything was changed.

Of course the cost of Titanicus has led to much wailing and gnashing of teeth regardless, and not all entirely unjustified. However, I believe that it is not purely the expense of the models but rather how the game has been marketed and presented that has caused the main problem and have a few ideas about what I would have done differently.

First of all, I did not buy the Grandmaster box set. I could have, I had the opportunity to, but in my opinion it is actually one of the worst sets GW has ever done, contrary to their claims. For one thing it is an exact duplication of forces. Ok the sprues come with parts to make ‘traitor’ titans (just different iconography essentially) but you are still looking at exactly the same loadout on each side, a real buzz kill. Imagine if Dark Imperium just came with identical forces. This makes reflection of the value quite poor. Of course it sold out anyway but in my opinion it was FAR from the perfect set. It’s not even the best way to experience the game. A long was from it in fact, giving you one admittedly impressive but slow and ponderous Warlord class Titan and three tiny weak but very fast knights each (assuming you take it as a two player starter). I would go as far as to say it is the most boring way to play Titanicus I can imagine. More on that in a bit.

So what would I have done differently? Well, for a start I would have NOT have included the Warlord in the starter kit. A Warlord is something you build up to, not what you start with. Maybe they were trying to mimic Renegade with its two knights, I’m not sure, but a MUCH more enticing way to do the box (again in my own humble opinion) would be.

2 Reavers  (2 Kits = 70quid) (or one Warlord effectively)

2 Warhounds 1 Kit  (guessing 40 for a pair though prices aren’t released just yet)

6 Knights (2 Kits £40)

And then the scenery and rules and stuff. Which comes in at about 55 quid

By a complete coincidence (honest) this happens to be what Matt and I used to play a game the other night and you know what? It was a lot of fun.  Not only did we have different weapon loadouts but there was a lot of movement and tactics and more units for things to happen to. I’ll give a brief breakdown of the game later on in this article but I think it was a lot better than the tit for tat games I have seen from the GM box thus far. And oddly enough the price of the contents would be less than the GM so you would be able to market it at a lower and more attractive price (that you don’t need to keep hidden till the week before release) Say £130 which would still represent a substantial saving (your Reavers for free) Make them exclusive and produce plenty (the Reavers being a month later and the Warhounds two –presumably) and they’ll fly out of the door. A PROPER two player starter that you could build on, say with another couple of small titans and THEN a proper Warlord kit with ALL the weapon options. But then, what do I know? It sold out regardless.

Me? I don’t want a warlord yet. Certainly not till other weapon options are available. So I just grabbed the rules and a box of knights. I’m going to review those right now quickly before I get to the game we played.

Knights:

Intricate would be the word I would use to describe these. Not only do they look like their much larger 40k counterparts they are also BUILT broadly similar. You only get one sprue but it is PACKED with very very small bits and there is bundles of detail with even the railings on the carapace being present. They are an excellent miniature. Each one comes in by my reckoning 22 pieces which is staggering when you consider the size of them and you can get a fair bit of posing in the upper part at least (the legs are a little static)

They also go together with ease and you could dispense with the instructions if you really needed to though they do have set let combinations ( I messed that up on purpose and just about got away with it. – I had to trim the banner and cables to fit)) By their very nature they are quite fiddly (even the tilting shield and heavy stubber are separate!) and require a bit more patience than a standard kit but the mould lines are more or less non-existent and they are a triumph of engineering. This kind of thing would not have been possible five years ago. The pinnacle of plastic miniature technology. A triumph. They are certainly easier to assemble than the Naggaroth Nightmares for Blood Bowl (what sadistic SOB makes the THUMB separate on a miniature?? )

Value wise, they don’t come off too well, 20 quid for three terminator sized models is a hefty bill, but when you consider the amount of work that has gone into them, the amount of parts, and the achievement and engineering involved, I think you have to give them a pass. Congrats to ** the designer. It also comes with a teeny tiny transfer sheet but I took one look at that and chucked it,. At that size my freehand work will be passable.

That was the only models I got. The other purchase was the rules. This was nearly double the cost of the knights but really does come with a lot of stuff in it’s own right. It’s also presented VERY nicely. The rulebook nestles in a plastic tray above all the other gaming paraphernalia that you need. Looking at the book it’s a beautiful tome indeed though at a shade under 100 pages far from hefty. The presentation is really nice though reminiscent of the large black leather Horus Heresy books which is of course intentional. This means you will get the full colour spreads of the Titans and diagrams and all sorts. They really are nice and if you look carefully you’ll see a couple of models that aren’t released yet.

Some more fluff would have been nice, and maybe a bit more on iconography but the book is full of highlights and well worth a read rather than just a flick through for reference. Top quality stuff. It’s all very packed and skewed towards the experienced gamer too. It’s nothing like the big rulebooks for the two main core games, no assembly or painting guides and no pictures of young acceptably diverse people playing the game.

There are two detailed cheat sheets containing a lot of information. They are invaluable for while playing the game with a variety of tables and special rule explanations. They are nice and glossy but a bit flimsy, I’ll be laminating mine for sure.

There are two sprues in the compact box too, One is the templates. These are basically the hard plastic templates that departed from 40k. It’s nice they found a use for them again, this time cast up in a nice bright blue.

The other sprue is the beefy one and contains all the other plastic you need to play. All your battlefield assets are here in two or three pieces each, so are your turning templates. In addition all the tokens and counters you need for your command terminals are here too. There is even a wrecked titan head you can use as an objective.

Underneath all this you have your command terminals. Two each for the Warlord, Reavers, Warhounds, and Knight Banners. Plenty for most maniples you could wish to field. These contain all the stats for your titan and also allow you to track damage and reactor level for your war engine. 

There is also a deck of stratagem cards and a separate deck of weapon cards. You will need more weapon cards if you ever hope to field dual options on anything but the Warlord (you get FOUR Bellicosa cannon cards) The weapon cards are double sided with a red side to show they are disabled and the roll needed to repair.  

And lastly the dice, these are really nice and there are a lot of them,. 10 D6, 2 D10s, a location dice, a scatter dice, a reactor dice and six command dice.

So that’s the rules box and it really does contain everything you need to play. Very impressive all very high quality and premium and in my humble option worth the 35 quid they ask. Call it 15 for the rulebook, tenner for your cards and terminals a tenner for your dice and a tenner for your plastic and that all comes out at pretty good value in my opinion. But how does it PLAY?

Well Matt and I played a proxy game. A knight banner each a Warhounds (Ad Mech robot) each and a Reaver each (Armigers) A simple kill each other mission with the basic rules (so no orders) and away we went.

Positioning is key in AT (hey that rhymes!) and if you win initiative you can choose to go first or hand over the Opus Titanica (which also comes on that nice chunky sprue and acts as a first player marker) and go second. Going first is a bit of a double edged sword, you get to fire first but you also have to move first so your actions can be reacted to.  Such it was for me and I was caught out of position and lost two of my knights to the Warhound which was agile enough to get the drop on them. Knights work like a very basic kind of titan, with stats that change dependant on how many are left in the banner. My one remaining knight was unlikely to have much of an impact in the game.

Knights also can’t repair in the repair phase. Titans can though and void shields were regenerated. Turn two saw me push my titan’s reactor to get more manoeuvrability and I had to roll a dice to see what happened, thankfully it came up blank and I didn’t anger the machine spirit or damage the reactor. Matt was not so lucky and his rector level went up. 

It went up even more as I smashed his Warhound with my Reavers guns, seriously damaging its leg and body after stripping its voids with my Warhound. (voids are represented as a saving throw,. If you make it all well and good but if you fail you lose the void making future rolls harder)  Matt’s fire back from his titans only did moderate damage. My brave knight pilot had sacrificed himself and engaged Matt’s banner but his knights all fluffed their shots! Unsurprisingly so did my lone knight, still it had served amply as a distraction

Turn Three saw Matt retreat his damaged Warhound behind a building to spare it my fury. It failed to repair though and was left with a reactor on the verge of going critical. Meanwhile my Warhound and Reaver were coming up on either side of Matts Reaver . My Warhound hit the Reaver a few times but my Reaver missed or failed to damage with pretty much everything,. Matt’s Reaver tried to target mine with its apocalypse missile launchers (the only thing with a 360 fire arc) but missed. They did however scatter right onto my last knight, destroying the plucky survivor.

Turn 4 saw Matt’s Warhound go silent, and fall over its noble machine spirit finally overcome by the damage it had taken as the reactor failed. Not the most exciting of demises but it was gone now.  Matt’s Reaver advanced on my Warhound. Flanked by two titans it chose to take the weakest and exposed its rear armour to my Reaver, A risky gambit but he didn’t have much left and he had a good chance of destroying my Warhound.  His knights had taken a casualty as well and he was trying to bring his thermal lance to bear on my Reaver. His Reaver ripped into my Warhound at close range, bypassing it’s void shields. His chain fist heavily damaged my Scout titan’s head (melee weapons can choose a target) whilst his plasma blast gun disabled my gun of the same name. He failed to kill it though and at close range from behind my Reaver critically wounded it in revenge.

We called it there, quite satisfied for a first game.  I do feel that we could have easily got away with using Orders even if they are part of the ‘advanced rules’ ( I don’t think they need to be there) and they would have afforded a MUCH more tactically varied game. For example. Matt could have engaged repair orders on his Warhound behind the building, improving it’s chances of survival. He could also have charged with his Reaver, granting it an extra hit in combat. I think it is telling however even without the orders that we had a fun and fast paced game. The fact we were taking different loadouts really helped. I completely eschewed the combat weapons in favour of more guns. And I almost paid the price when I got too close to Matt’s Reaver at the end.

I can only imagine how dull playing with the grandmaster box with ‘Basic’ rules would be!  Two IDENTICALLY armed forces slugging away at each other till one falls over.  The game we played was a lot of fun and nothing at any stage convinced me that the warlord is the essential Titan to use. Indeed, I’m going to wait until at least some weapon packs are released until I pick one up.  Of course the problem for this is that the kit will then end up being a lot more expensive dependant on how much the weapons are. Surely it would have made more sense to increase the cost by a tenner and then have a sprue of weapons? There are also more knight variants to look forward to and these are just as critical in my opinion to providing a decent game as a banner of three knights is VERY quickly destroyed.

Overall I think James Hewitt has crafted a really good little game here, keeping track of you command terminals is a lot of fun and the locations (carried over from the old game) add another tactical level, you can target a damaged location but it will be harder to hit (unless you are using a melee weapon that is) The reactor mechanic is also very cool and atmospheric.

So in summary I think Adeptus Titanicus is an excellent game and one that I am looking forward to playing a lot as I build my forces (Legio Questriatus – The Deathstalkers) It certainly offers a very different gameplay experience from any of the other available games and from that perspective alone is well worth your time. I do have to say however that the way they have marketed and released it is surely the most unattractive and ineffective way possible. The scope and depth of the game rendered inert by a dull and unvaried box.

Final opinion,

Adeptus Titanicus great. Seniores Princeps

Grand master box, neither Grand nor Masterful. Engine death